#think checkered flooring and red booths and stuff

[addisong]

One day I'm going to open a restaurant called 'The Strip Club' and all we sell is chicken strips. Mark my words. You'll see it on the news in 20 years.

[leaderwon]

CHAPTER 02 — chocolate milkshakes and little shifts

wc — 605+

prev — masterlist — next

Later that afternoon, the sun hung low in the sky, painting the sidewalks in gold as you pushed open the door to Riley’s Diner, the same place you’d all been going to since freshman year.

The bell above the door gave its usual cheery jingle, and the familiar scent of vanilla milkshakes and greasy fries hit you like muscle memory. The place hadn’t changed one bit. same checkered floors, same red booths, same slightly sticky menus that probably hadn’t been wiped down properly in months.

Jay was already there, sprawled across the booth like he owned the place, flipping through a menu even though he always ordered the same thing. Jake was beside him, humming along to the soft music playing through the speakers, and Sunghoon sat across from them, absently stirring his water with a straw.

“Wow,” you said, sliding into the booth next to Sunghoon, “I didn’t realize this was a private event.” “You’re late,” Jay announced, like it was a court verdict. “You’re annoying,” you replied sweetly.

Lia appeared behind you, pulling her jacket off as she slid in next to Jake. “Blame her. She spent ten minutes trying to pick an outfit.”

Jake’s eyes lit up with teasing delight. “For me?” You rolled your eyes. “For myself. Not everything is about you.” “Sure, sure,” he said, grinning. “But if it was, I’d be honored.”

You reached over and flicked his forehead. Jay snorted. “You guys flirt like a married couple.” “We’re not flirting,” you and Jake said in unison, before pausing and giving each other a sideways glance.

Sunghoon’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t say anything.

“Can we order?” Lia asked, waving down a server. “I’m starving.”

Once the food arrived, burgers, milkshakes, and fries piled high, it felt like you all fell into that old rhythm again. There was laughter, mock arguments over fry stealing, and ridiculous debates about who would survive a zombie apocalypse (Jay insisted it would be him. everyone else disagreed).

But somewhere in the middle of it, you caught yourself staring. Not at the food. Not at the posters on the wall.

At them.

Jay leaning back with his stupid smug smirk, throwing a fry at Jake’s face. Jake with whipped cream on the tip of his nose, swatting at Jay while giggling like a literal child. Sunghoon quietly sipping his drink but smiling to himself at their antics.

It was one of those rare moments where you saw them not just as classmates or childhood friends, but as them. The trio. The constants in your life. The chaos and comfort all wrapped into one.

And suddenly, that weird feeling from earlier returned. The one you couldn’t name. Like something was shifting, and you were standing right at the edge of it without realizing.

You snapped out of your thoughts when Lia nudged you under the table.

“You okay?” You blinked. “Yeah. Just spaced out.” “Thinking about college stuff?” “Something like that.”

She gave you a knowing look but didn’t press. Lia always knew when to ask and when to just let you breathe.

Across the table, Jake was laughing again, probably at something dumb Jay said and Sunghoon’s gaze flicked toward you for a brief second.

Just a second. Then it was gone.

But something about it stuck with you, like a faint echo in the back of your mind.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was everything.

You didn’t know it yet, but this would be the last time things felt exactly like this, simple, predictable, safe.

Because soon, everything would change. And it would all begin with a box you thought you’d forgotten.

© @leaderwon 2025. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[dachshund-games]

Have your friends read your writing yet?! It's so good, they NEED to! 😭

Girl boss have I posted my writing here????? And yes they have. The guy I used to have a crush on also writes and I've had him read some stuff. I wrote a 7,000 word original about two gay princes but I accidentally deleted it a month or two ago and I cried.

Anyways, here's a creepy thing I wrote

Why do bad things always happen at Waffle Houses?

What is it about the glowing yellow sign that barely lights up the parking lot that’s so scary? Do you have a reason to be scared? Do you think something’s going to come out of the limitless stretch of dark pine trees and get you?

Maybe it’s because you feel a sense of deja-vu? How every single waffle house you’ve been to has seemed the same. The parking lot is always damp with fresh rain and it’s always sparkling in the light that the dingy yellow sign gives off. There’s three other cars in the parking lot besides your own. As you walk to the door your sneakers squeak and scrape against the asphalt, like it’s slippery but not enough to make you fall.

Why are you afraid? You have no reason to be, we promise.

As you step in, the smell of waffles and floor cleaner hits your nose. It’s comforting, something new but also familiar. The air conditioning is up a degree too high and you shiver as you come in from the warm, humid outside air.

You take a place at a booth and feel the chill of the red plastic seat below you slowly seep into your skin. Your spine rests against the back of the bench and hits it in an uncomfortable way, but after a moment the pain fades to a dull ache.

There’s a little bit of spilled sugar on the table, leftovers from the last patron who sat here. You quickly swipe it off the table with your hand, sweeping the granules onto the floor.

There’s only one other customer here, sitting across the restaurant and gazing out of the window with a glazed look in his eye. It’s an old man, looking to be in his early seventies. He’s wearing a blue checkered collared shirt and khaki pants with a phone holder clipped to it. He looks exactly like every grandfather ever. There’s nothing on his table, save for an empty mug of what you assume used to be coffee. 

A waitress comes and takes your order, but something about her seems off. The brown hair under her black and yellow visor is a little too messy and her smile is a little too wide. It’s surely past midnight, how is she so cheerful?

The smell of waffles hits you again as you take in a breath to speak your order. You know it by heart, you get the same thing everytime you come here. A cup of coffee (with two sugars and one cream), one waffle, and double hash browns covered and smothered.

After you order, the waitress takes off, getting to work on making your food. You watch as she works, enraptured in the way she moves with an uncanny gracefulness, going through the motions as if she’s done this a million times. 

She has.

As you wait the chill of the diner works its way down your spine, making your body shiver and shake. Thankfully, your coffee arrives and you add your sugar and cream, taking a test sip to make sure it’s to your liking. It is.

The coffee helps ward off some of the chill, but the bench under you still hasn’t warmed. 

Your food finally arrives, steaming and hot. It makes your mouth water and your stomach growl. There’s nothing better than a good old-fashioned waffle, is there?

The scent of the food wafts into your nose, smelling akin to a dream. It smells sweet, almost too sweet, but you don’t care as you smother it in maple syrup. You grab your utensils and dig in, not caring who might be watching you eat with feral fervor. 

Time seems to fly by as you eat, and soon your waffle and hash browns are long gone. The warmth of the food lingers in your mouth and throat, a memory of the moment of bliss you just experienced. The only indicator that there was ever food is a small smear of syrup on your plate. You can barely resist the urge to take your finger and wipe it off the plate and taste the sweetness one last time.

You give in to the urge.

The waitress comes back with more coffee and your check. The ink on the paper is faded and your order is scribbled in an almost unintelligible scrawl. You suppose it’s ok, the only one who has to read it is the waitress herself. 

You place the cash on the table, making sure to leave a tip for the waitress. But as you slip out of the booth your foot catches on the pole that holds the table up. You falter, trying to scoot out of the booth more frantically than before. The pole won’t let you free, almost as if the diner itself is trying to keep you here. 

You stop and take a deep breath, taking a slow moment to unhook your foot from the table. It comes free and you sigh. Some night it’s been.

As you leave the waitress shouts out a farewell, telling you to come back soon. Her too-wide smile is out again, and you give her a small wave as you push open the door. 

The humid air outside hits you like a wet wall. It seems too warm for after midnight, but you don’t waste too many thoughts on it. What you do spare a thought to however, is how the humidity makes your shirt stick to your back. Your sneakers squeak and scrape against the damp asphalt, just like before.

You get to your car and unlock it, and as you open your door you see the old man still sitting in the window. His glazed gaze is fixated on you, staring you down with unblinking eyes. You hasten your movements, just to get out of that freeze-ray of a stare. 

You start the car and make the turn out of the parking lot, hearing the tires squeal. The trees lining the road seem to stretch on into infinity, and the shadows seem to move as you drive.

Weird things always happen in the woods, however, so why are you afraid?

[starrybumbles]

Home Sweet Home

CHAPTER 1: Riverdale

Sweet Pea x Reader

Canon-Divergence.

Summary: In a world so big, how were you stuck in such a tiny town?

Word Count : 1877

Author’s Note: Hi guys! This is my first piece of writing I’m putting out so hopefully it’s good lol. I’m not even caught up with Riverdale tbh, and that’s bc there’s so little Sweet Pea. Back to the point though, I would love your guys��� review on this (:

           Moving away from California was the last thing you wanted to do. It was your home- your safe place. So many good things happened there and now... it was miles away. The trees blurred into a green blob, right up until you decided to focus on one. Then it seemed to go in slow motion. A sigh escaped your lips, eyes flickering up to the rearview mirror. The backseat- along with the trunk- was filled with your bags. It left little room to actually use the mirror for what it’s meant for. But then again, no one was rushing to stay at the ‘town with pep’. (It was anything but.)

“It’ll be fine.” Your mom’s hand came to rest on your own. “Think of this as a fresh start.”

“I didn’t want a fresh start.” 

There was a pause. The words had flown out faster than you could stop them. They left a bad taste in your mouth- complaining wasn’t something you liked to do. This whole move wasn’t your mom’s fault; people were shit and liked to shit on others. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I know what you’re feeling. But I really do think you’ll be happier here.”  

As another silence hung over you both, you couldn’t help but wonder if that was true. Your life back in California was like a dream. You had a good group of friends, a best friend, and a place where you felt good and safe. It was a scene ripped right from the movie screen. But heading to Riverdale gave you a whole new perspective and you couldn’t say you liked it. 

The sun beat down your back as you pulled the rest of the suitcases out of the trunk. You could already feel the sweat building up on your neck. Even in Riverdale you couldn’t beat Summer’s heat- go figure. With three bags in your left and a suitcase in your right, you stepped back to let your mom shut the trunk. Your eyes wandered over to the park’s sign, dingy from years of standing. 

Sunnyside Trailer Park. Low Rates- No Pets- Swimming Pool.

A painted sun beamed with yellow and red rays right above the words. A line, the same shade of red, ran right through the second set below. 

Many times you’ve been here through the years and you couldn’t say anything has changed. A small smile spread across your face. The outside of the trailers were tinged with dust and dirt. Only one mattered, though, and that one was just a few feet away. A little wooden staircase leads up to the door. Trash bins were lined up on the left, while an isolated box stood on the other. It was familiar- so familiar you already knew what the inside looked like. But it wasn’t home. 

You walked up to the box and lifted a lawn gnome, grimacing at the rust on it. It was such an obvious place to hide a key. Your mother walked up behind you, groaning about how she should have thrown away more shoes. ( “You never know if I need them,” she’d said.) 

You trudged up the stairs and opened the door, settling your luggage to the side. To your right was the living room, set with all the essentials. To the left was the kitchen. You purse your lips before turning. 

“Hey, mom,” you called out. “You think uncle would mind if I munched on something?” 

Her voice echoed from the bathroom. “I don’t think so! Just munch, though. I think we should go to Pop’s and get something.” 

With that, you practically ran towards the kitchen. The cool air of the fridge hit you, a sigh of relief escaping. The feeling quickly fell as you saw nothing in there that would satisfy your hunger. You’d thought the fridge would be stocked considering your cousin was such a foodie. How did he get by like this? You closed the door, puffing out at the disappointment. Guess you’d have to wait for diner food. “So, uh.. when exactly are we going there?”

You watched your mom round the corner. “Soon. Uncle will be here soon.”

And, low and behold, your uncle walked through the door within the next few minutes. He wore a tired grin as he opened his arms toward you. Stepping away from the fridge, you wrapped your arms around him. His stubble scratched the top of your head. You murmured a little hello and your uncle returned it. That smile was still on his face as he greeted your mom. 

“It’s good to see you, Forsythe.” 

“Why don’t you ever use FP?” He groaned, holding her at arm's length. “I hate that name.” 

“Well, it's your name.” She rolled her eyes, patting his shoulder. Your mom was the older one out of the two and she made sure everyone knew. 

Despite the complaints from FP, you knew he wasn’t that bothered by it. Family was everything with you guys, even when you lived across the country. The constant contact with each other over the years kept that bond strong. It made you wish being here was under different circumstances. 

The two adults shared a look before nodding. Your eyes shifted to the half empty coffee pot on the stove, left untouched since the morning. Of course your uncle knew about what happened in California. You figured the talk would happen later- out of earshot for you. A part of you hoped you’d be included, while another didn’t want to talk about it. 

A buzzing noise reached your ears. You fumbled to get your phone from the back of your pocket. The screen lit up, soliciting a smile at the text. B/F Name, your best friend, had been texting you since you left. You missed her a lot. Never have you been so far away. Biting your lip, your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you responded. Maybe you would call her later if she wasn’t busy. 

“Y/n, fix yourself. We’re gonna leave.” 

You nodded without looking up at your mom and moved to the only bathroom in the trailer. The text was sent with a ‘ttyl’. 

Looking in the mirror, you locked eyes with your reflection. Bags hung under your eyes. They weren’t noticeable unless you were trying to spot them. You ran a hand over your face, taking a deep breath. Fresh start- that’s what this was. A new page to write whatever you wanted. You clicked your tongue, then sighed. 

_____________

Make the most of this, you thought, and nodded at your reflection before throwing the door open. 

The smell of burgers hit you as soon as the three of you entered. Despite its years, Pop’s looked as good as ever. The floor was checkered with black and grey, the booths a bright red with silver padding covering the top. On the walls were several decorations, many being old photos. Even the people here fit the fifties-esque aesthetic of the diner. 

At the register, your mom stood with your uncle, waving you over. A smile graced her lips, her hand reaching out to place itself on your back. Behind the metal table was a big man wearing an apron and a hat that had Pop’s Chock’Lit Shoppe printed on both. His smile reflected your mom’s. It took you a second before recognizing him. 

“Well, if it isn’t little Y/n L/n. Look at you all grown up.” His voice was as warm as an apple pie fresh out of the oven. 

You returned his smile, waving at Pop before shoving it back into the pocket of your jeans. “Hi. Been a few years,” you said. 

“It certainly has. I’m glad to see you back.” 

Pop nodded to both you and your mom before ushering you to find a seat. You followed the two adults down the line, feeling a bit awkward as you trailed behind. You could feel stares of other customers as you passed by. You kept your eyes trained ahead. 

Pop had come by to take your orders and within that time, you found that your uncle worked there in his free time. 

“So I’m hearing free milkshakes?” You grinned, eyebrows shooting up. 

Your mom snorted. “Or maybe she could get a job and pay for them.” 

FP nodded, pointing a finger at her. You gave them both accusatory glances. 

“I’d like an extra hand around here.”

“It’s not like I wouldn’t try to get hired, but we just moved here! I need a little time to adjust.” 

You slumped against the seat, and picked up a fry. Working at Pop’s didn’t sound like such a bad thing- you had at least a little experience under your belt. You glanced around the diner again, eyeing the empty tables. It shouldn’t be too hard. Turning towards your uncle, you continued, “I just need to get familiar with the place again. Adjust to life in Riverdale first before diving into being the town’s little go-getter.” 

FP snickered. “Alright, kid.” His eyes flickered to the door as the bell attached to it jingled. “Now’s your time to start getting familiar.” 

At his words, you swiveled around to meet Jughead. He looked a little stunned to see you. A second passed before a grin stretched across his face. You made your way toward him. Your arms wrapped around his middle with a squeeze.

 As you pulled away, a group started to push past the doors and stand behind Jughead. You nudge your cousin, then step to the side.  

“Jug,” you hissed when he didn’t follow suit. You gestured to the group, and when you made eye contact with the tall one you gave a smile. “Sorry for him.”

The one at the head narrowed his eyes at you. He crossed his leather clad arms over his torso, and you noticed that they all had the same jacket on. Jughead took a step back towards them, glancing at the tallest before switching back to you. It was then that you saw the same jacket on him that everyone else had. A small “oh” formed on your mouth as your brain connected the dots. 

“Are you guys having some sort of club meeting?”

Jughead scoffed, shaking his head at your ridiculous question. “No, it’s…” 

As he trailed off, his eyes shifted to something behind you. 

“A.. project.”

Right, you thought. A project for what?

You wanted to ask. It was so obvious that he was lying about whatever this was. Yet your lips didn’t move. And you knew why. There was a lot that happened back in your old town; stuff that you’d rather keep in the dark. Even from Jughead whom you were close with. Maybe this lie was his way of telling you he wanted to keep this to himself. So you’ll let it slide… for now. 

Two of the others looked to Jughead. The third one stared hard at you-- the tall one that you’d consider cute if he didn’t have such a mean mug. To avoid his gaze, you turned your back and waved the little group over. You all squished into a booth in the corner of the diner. Menus were passed around as Jughead grinned. 

“Let’s eat!”

[ask-gotham-city]

Because y’all are uncultured in the food department, me and W made a list of the best food places in Gotham so that you guys can get stuff other than greasy Jokerized fries.

Citytop Snacks/Bat Boba

It’s name is Citytop Snacks but everyone calls it Bat Boba bc their bubble tea comes with bat shaped tapioca pearls

They’ve got smoothies, bubble tea, and other drinks based off our very own vigilantes

I think the Dark Knight smoothie is their best drink but apparently W doesn’t appreciate the greatness that is blackberry and chocolate together😤

Also have some press-toasted sandwiches with little bat symbols!

Good for casual hangouts and study sessions

Punch!

This super weird bright restaurant on Main St.

Walking in will feel like walking into an 80s fever dream

There’s a disco ball and checkered floor, but everything is the brightest color it could be

Lots of neon leather, both on the waiter’s funky uniforms and the booths you sit in

Mainly villain themed foods like Riddler’s Mystery Sandwich, Poison Ivy’s Meatloaf, and The Two Face Cheese Platter, but they also have an ice cream flavor for every villain. (Joker’s is mint birthday cake and it’s so good y’all)

Gotham Sweetery

The more high class place for sweet treats

If you want a cute place for a date this is great for that!

They’ve got lemon cream cheese danishes with the Bat Signal, raspberry bon bons that look like Red Hood’s helmet, blue croissants with chocolate Nightwing silhouettes on top, the good stuff

Super Sushi

Pretty much what it sounds like, except it’s not just Gotham heroes!

All the themed sushis have the hero’s symbol in the middle, and they’re each delicious and unique

The Superman roll comes with this line of sauce on the outside that looks like his speed trail and at the end there’s a little edible Superman and it’s very 🥺

A bit on the spendy side but worth it for a party!

And finally some general things exclusive to Gotham!

We have “Gargoyle” Kit Kat’s. They’ve got a white chocolate coating dyed to look stony, black and grey wafers on the inside, and they taste like lavender. So good. Pick some up if you stop through.

You can order a Bat Signal latte at Starbucks, but don’t unless you really need to. It‘s got so many extra shots you’ll be awake for hours.

A few candy stores sell gummy batarangs and mini gummy grappling guns and they‘re super fun to eat

We have.... bottled rain water. It’s filtered, and it’s more of a tourist thing, but it’s... it’s not good. Our water tastes gross.

Various chocolate gadgets you can buy at Wal Mart and Safeway around Valentine’s Day

Now you have no excuse. If you visit Gotham, eat fun food, eat good fun food. And y’know, hit me and W up if you stop by.

[echeronsink]

Mothbones Preview (for mobile)

Mothbones is a modern fantasy YA story set in an alternate universe where every creature of myth, folklore, and legend are very, very real and hiding right under the noses of the rest of the world’s population. It is told from two perspectives: One man who must live with his past misdeeds forever, and another who is still haunted by the arson killing of 13 people. Their paths cross with Maux; a girl with budding prophetic abilities and a target on her back. For Phesec, it’s one last job before he can try to break away from his reputation. For Pepper, it’s a chance to prove himself.

Playlist | Concept Board

If you aren’t on mobile, please read the chapters here.

CHAPTER ONE

"I don't think fortune cookies work if you steal them."

Pepper looked down at the bedraggled girl seated in front of him, sliding into the booth and setting down the crinkly plastic bag unceremoniously. The corner of his mouth curled into a lazy smile. "Maybe. Could be they just plain don't work."

Maux gave him a tired, argumentative look, scrunching up her nose and chewing her lip in a way he'd learned meant she was considering starting a debate.

A shape moved in his peripheral, drawing his attention as Maux diverted her gaze to the checkered floor.

"Do you need another minute to decide?" the waitress asked, tapping the end of her pen against her notepad expectantly. She didn't seem to be aware that her bun had gotten loose and drooped over onto its side like a deflated balloon.

"Ah, just a milkshake, please. Chocolate." He straightened up and smiled politely. Then, noticing her attention lingering on the bag of cookies, added, "Kid's got a big game coming up tomorrow. Gotta rack up the luck a little."

Satisfied with his explanation, she nodded and promised to have the drink ready shortly before walking away.

"You're such a liar," Maux stated once she was out of earshot.

"'s not such a bad skill to have," he replied, popping open the bag and dumping out the contents. Plucking one from the pile, he tore that open as well. "Besides, she's probably relieved. I'd bet she's seen a whole lot worse than a bulk bag of fortune cookies, working in a twenty-four-hour Diner."

She scowled more, curling up against the back of the booth and tugging her thin sweater over her hands. "Why are we even here? You always just steal food."

"Because," he continued absently, cracking the cookie open and pulling out the little slip of paper. "It's been a long week, and you look like you need something good to eat. Or drink."

"I'm lactose intolerant."

"That didn't seem to stop you from eating an entire package of mini donuts the other day. Or anything else, really."

Appearing to be temporarily out of arguments, Maux only sat forward and grabbed a cookie from the pile. The waitress returned and placed the shake on the table before walking away again after he thanked her.

"What'd ya get?" he inquired as she cracked the shell and tugged the slip of paper free.

"Let me read." She looked over the printed letters at least four times before tentatively replying. "'Take the chance while you still have the choice.'"

"Foreboding," he deadpanned, cracking open another cookie and popping half into his mouth with a loud crunch. "And maybe a little late."

She furrowed her brow and smoothed the slip out over the table, pulling the shake closer and taking a sip as she played with the condensation.

"You should at least read them," she said after watching him add a fourth slip of paper to the pile of wrappers without so much as a glance.

Again, he cracked a wry smile. "There's nothing to 'em, kiddo. It's all just a bunch of superstitious fun."

"Monsters are supposed to be a bunch of superstitious fun, too. So is magic," she countered, slouching over the glass.

A frown tugged at his lips, his attention halting for a moment as he glanced over his shoulder before looking at her fully. "No, kid. Monsters and magic...those are myths."

"They're real. You saw them. I saw you use magic."

He sat back in his seat, abandoning his dinner. "You did."

Maux grit her teeth, rising to sit on one leg. "Then why are you calling them myths?"

"Myths," he exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly, "are real. You've seen as much. Gods, monsters, the whole lot of it." Selecting a slip of paper from the pile of trash, he held it up. "Superstitions are different, they're wives' tales for people like me, like saying going out in the rain without a coat will give you a cold. There's exceptions, sure, for some things involving the Fair Folk and a few others, but they're different."

A faint ribbon of smoke rose from the paper, turned greenish-orange by the Diner's lighting. A moment later the paper curled in on itself and turned to ash as a thin line of orange flame ate away at the edges.

"Stuff like this, though...It's all just people. Normal, unsuspecting people having a little fun with the idea of luck or fortune or whatever they want to call it."

She pursed her lips, holding the glass with both hands and tapping her short nails against it as she stared at the straw blankly.

"There's nothing to worry about," he added softly.

"There's all kinds of things to worry about," she replied, barely above a whisper. "There's monsters and crazy people and magic all over the place and now they're after me. Jesus Christ, I haven't been home in a week. I can't even call my parents and I might never see them again."

He slumped back, shaking his head. "Well...the magic and monsters aren’t really anything new. I can handle any of that fine."

Silence hung over the booth tensely for a moment before anything happened.

A small hiccup escaped her, followed by another. She brought a hand up over her face to hide the miserable smile spreading across her face. "Oh, great. My knight in shining armor."

He let out an exasperated sigh. "Glad I can put your mind at ease."

She nodded, unsuccessfully trying to hold back more hiccups as she stirred the milkshake. After dropping her fortune into the pile of wrappers, she looked back up at him with a tired, wavering smile. "You really need to work on your comforting skills."

He rolled his eyes. "We’ll focus on getting you swearing properly first."

CHAPTER TWO

Blue and red weren't quite opposites. Sure, they looked different enough, but the space between them had become perilously narrow in the blink of an eye. Now that he stared at the divide with sobered eyes, he recognized the preface in the color blue.

No matter how hard he tried, blue would lead to red so long as he stood within it.

"You get quieter and quieter with old age." The familiar voice brought Phesec’s mouth into a tight line.

"Oraxes. Always a pleasure to see you." He turned to face the woman standing in the neon blue light with him.

"Have you grown philosophical already?” she inquired, her lips tugging up into a cruel smirk. “What mysteries does someone who's seen the flip side of the coin ponder?"

A heavy sigh escaped him. “If you’re so determined to annoy me, could you at least try to be original about it?”

The golden lattice of leaves above her left ear glinted with the tilt of her shaved head. “Right. How inconsiderate of me. You’re probably tired of hearing the same jokes after so many decades. So, which ones do you hate the most: The undead jokes, or the criminal ones we all have to hear?”

“Do you want something from me, or does Pegasus just pay you to sit around?”

“Please. You’re the last person I’d need anything from,” she scoffed, waving a hand.

“I’d almost think you’ve been missing me.” He pushed a loose strand of long hair out of his face, tugging at the sleeves of his jacket and shivering. He glanced up to the glaring exit sign. “What’s got him worried? He hasn’t moved shop in a long time.”

“Pegasus seems to be more interested in security lately. Not that you’d know, always running off to hole up somewhere while the rest of us work.”

“He doesn’t seem interested in keeping me close. I come to get the job, I do it, I get paid and then I go home…Still. I wouldn’t expect him to move shop to somewhere so…” He looked around the room, observing the grimy cement walls plastered in outdated flyers and the decomposing litter jammed into every crack and corner. The scent of cigarettes and booze hung heavily in the air, along with a few other less recognizable things. “Disgusting.”

She shrugged. “Don’t know. He’s probably just tired of the same old places. Or maybe he needed it for an expansion.”

“Of course.” He nodded, leaning against the steel door frame. “Lapdogs don’t usually ask a lot of questions.”

Her eyes narrowed as she took a step closer, parting her lips to speak through grit teeth. “I’m not-”

“Castillo,” a deep, smooth voice slipped from beyond the doorway. “Please, come in.”

Glancing from the red corridor back to Oraxes, who had seemingly been frozen in place by the voice, he flashed the slightest hint of a smile before turning and stepping over the threshold, trading out the neon blue light of the exit sign for a vivid shade of red.

His stomach rose further as he neared the end of the hall, and then again as he realized the lack of a door. By the time he stepped into the polished office his heart was already beginning to beat against his ribs with renewed life.

“Castillo,” the voice repeated, this time more tied down to the man sitting behind the ornate wooden desk in the center of the room. “It’s good to see that time still hasn’t caught up to you.”

“Please, don’t bother with the formalities,” he replied, crossing the space and taking a seat in one of the plush velvet chairs in front of him. He immediately scooted forward to sit on the edge, perhaps out of worry that the furniture might swallow him if he got too comfortable. “We’re still on a first name basis, aren’t we?”

Pegasus smiled, the wrinkly lines around his current form’s eyes deepening. His lips moved again, though his voice seemed to come from the air around him rather than his mouth, as usual. “Of course. Though I must say, your absences have been worrying me lately.”

“I’m sure you don’t have anything to be concerned about. You have plenty of reliable people working for you,” he reasoned cautiously, glancing at the backs of the dusty metal picture frames on the far ends of the desk.

“Plenty of people, yes, but not very many reliable ones. Youth doesn’t often breed maturity or trustworthiness.” He leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on the dark surface and clasping his hands together as he peered over the wire rim of his glasses. “It would be wise to hold onto the old friends I have left.”

He held his breath, waiting out the silence for a few seconds before forcing a smile. “Well, if I’ve started acting my age, I think we’re going to run into some problems. I may start reminiscing whenever the wind blows.”

Pegasus laughed, sounding far less human with each note until he broke into a fit of coughing.

Phesec winced at the sickly rattling sound of the man’s breaths, a familiar bitterness phantoming its way onto his tongue.

He pulled a tissue from his pocket as the fit ended, wiping his mouth and grumbling irritably. “I’ll never understand how bad organs manage to find their way out of a photograph.”

“An interesting question,” he agreed weakly, watching the tissue fall into the trash before looking back up to Pegasus’s face.

After adjusting the collar of his suit, he leaned against the desk once again. “All of that aside, I trust you know why I asked you here?”

“A job,” he said quickly, relieved to be asked a question with a simple answer. One that he knew.

“Yes.” He nodded, glancing up at the doorway. “Unfortunately I must ask a favor of you.”

Polite smile fading, he waited in silence.

“You have voiced your wishes to abstain from these kinds of jobs before, however…-”

“Sir,” he interrupted sharply, earning a raised hand in a bid for silence.

“However,” he repeated. “It is important that I can rely on you for this. There is no one else that I feel could be trusted with such an important task.”

“We’ve been over this, please. No kids.”

“I won’t ask the impossible of you, Phesec, and I do not take this lightly. You are a valuable friend to me.” He paused, layering an icy edge over his words. “If you would hear me out, I believe that you would not be as opposed to the idea of making an exception for me, just this once.”

He turned his gaze to the carpet, nodding tensely after a moment.

“I would not ask you to bring harm to a child. Instead, I’d like you to find one for me and bring her into our care.”

“Kidnapping.”

A harsh frown carved itself into Pegasus’s dark skin, deep channels springing up on his forehead. “She is already far from home. This is for her own protection, I assure you.”

“She should be taken back, then.”

He shook his head grimly, rising from his chair. “Nothing would be able to protect her from the dangers she faces now, even if she were to feign ignorance about mythos.”

He stared as Pegasus strode across the room, twisting a knob on the wall. The frilled lights tucked up against the high ceiling dimmed.

“There are places for young mythos, sir. Places founded to raise and prepare them for their own survival and independence.”

He turned to face him, one hand on the deep bronze railing of the spiral staircase behind him. “It doesn’t take much attention to notice your drifting, Phesec. You are absent more often than not, and people are beginning to talk. You are an old and trusted friend. One that I would not like to see turned to ash on the part of your own defiance.”

His throat felt constricted as he swallowed, letting his gaze drop to his feet. “I can’t take the job, Pegasus.”

He was met with stony silence, followed by the sharp tap of rings on metal that made him flinch.

“Very well. Leave me.”

His legs shook as he stood, stepping back towards the doorway. An apology clung stubbornly to his tongue, refusing to be spoken. He managed a stiff nod before turning into the red corridor.

The slight vacuum of air tugged at his clothing as the doorway vanished behind him. He didn’t even spare Oraxes a glance as he stepped out into the blue again.

“What the hell happened to you? You look like you just ran into a Bureau officer.”

He failed to respond, looking to the sign again. Somehow, it looked a little more teal.

[70ships-moved]

time | honeymoon suite

summary: as puck’s birthday approaches, they begin to have second thoughts on their plans (it’s my birthday and i’m making it malcolm’s problem)

words: 1.3k 

notes: mentions of food and eating

It’s late. It’s not like I ever go to bed on time but right now, I’d be sleeping but I have plans. Well, I’m gonna have plans once I talk it out with Malcolm. We’ve been busy. Me with college and him with work but when we had the time, we’d discuss it. The first part of the plan was him picking me up and I have yet to come up with what we’re going to do next. I don’t care what it is as long as he’s here but this is what I asked for. Since we don’t have a thought-out plan, we can’t go anywhere but we (mainly Malcolm) were hungry and we were lucky enough to find a diner open this late. It’s kind of cute, all 50s themed complete with red seats and checkered floors. Malcolm finishes up telling me something he deems important but I’ve been tuning out. He’s cute when he goes on his little rambles. 

“...And that’s why you should evade your taxes,” Malcolm concludes. “Any questions?”

“No. You’re cute when you’re telling me how to do illegal stuff.”

He blushes and it just adds to the cuteness. “You weren’t listening, were you?”

I moved my hand that rested on my cheek and move the strand of hair that had fallen in his face while he was talking. “You lost me at ‘There’s a good chance you might get arrested for this but here me out.’”

“So, the beginning?”

“Pretty much.”

He laughs as his eyes drop down to the dog tags dangling down my chest, squinting his eyes as he reads them. “Who’s James Barnes?”

I pop a french fry into my mouth. “Someone. You don’t know him.”

“That’s why I’m asking,” Malcolm leans back into the booth. “But I do know that you don’t know anyone in the army.”

I lean back into the booth too. “Maybe I do. My grandpa was in the army, y’know.”

“He’s fictional, isn’t he?”

“My grandpa is very real, Malcolm. Don’t be surprised when I leave you for a fictional character.”

Malcolm smiles. He reaches for what appears to be a sugar packet and rips it open, “Have you thought about where you wanna go?” The question makes my heart sink. I look down and twiddle my thumbs. It doesn’t matter where I go as long as he’s here but right now, that’s not an answer.

“Uh. Disneyland?” I say, unsure.

“That’s doable. I think you’d like California. I’ve always wanted to meet Mickey Mouse.” He dumps the “sugar” on his tongue and his face twists in disgust. I try to suppress a smile but fail miserably. It takes the spotlight off me for a bit and eases my nerves. He should be stupid more often.

“Salt?” I ask as I hand him a napkin.

“Coffee creamer. Ugh, since when did they make it a powder?”.

“Since like, the beginning of coffee.” I watch as he frantically wipes the creamer off his tongue. “Why California?”

“Well, you haven’t thought of anything. And California, LA specifically, is very...you.”

I go back to twiddling my fingers. He’s right, I should be thinking of something. God, I’m so unprepared. “Really? I’ve always wanted to go there.”

“You and every other dreamer in the world. You’ll love it, I promise.”

I appreciate his suggestion but California’s too far. The reason why we’re out is that I just want to get out of this place. This town, my house, all of it. My home life isn’t terrible but it can be improved. The improvement begins with me leaving. I knew the only person I could come to for this was Malcolm and now, here we are. I hadn’t thought further than leaving the house. I wanted that most and right now, I don’t know what to do. Every time I think about what I’ve done so far, my heart sinks into my stomach. I’m out of the house for good and now I fear I can’t come back. I know I don’t want to but once we pull out of this diner and go wherever I don’t know what’s going to happen and I hate it so much. 

Sometimes I wish I was a fortune-teller. 

---

We’re out of the diner now, sitting on the trunk of Malcolm’s thunderbird. We’re alone in the parking lot except for a few stars above us. We haven’t been able to stargaze together for a while and it’s nice to see Malcolm get excited about the different constellations again. I think he’s telling me about Capricornus or something- I can’t help but zone out again. 

A poke to the side of my stomach snaps me out of it. Malcolm turns to me and points at his watch. It’s 11:55. “5 more minutes until your birthday, love.” He sounds more excited than I am.

“Looks like it.” I smile but Malcolm can sense that it isn’t genuine. His smile drops to a look of concern. Don’t ask what’s wrong. Please, don’t ask what’s wrong.

“What’s wrong?” Fuck.

“I don’t know,” Yes I do. “Do you think I’m doing the right thing? And don’t sugarcoat to make me feel better.”

“All you ever talk about is wanting to leave. This is what you want, right?”

“That’s not what I asked to hear.” He puts his hand on my thigh, sighing.

“No, I don’t think you’re doing the right thing. But if you feel like this would make you happy, I want to help as much as I can.”

I rest my head on his shoulder, pouting. “That’s sugarcoating.”

“I don’t think you’ve thought this out well enough. Do you think that no one from back home is going to care that you’re gone?” I hadn’t thought about that at all. I mean, I don’t have many friends, but I’ve never been away from my family for even a week. Part of me wants to believe that they could move on without me but they’re too close-knit. I don’t feel that closeness though. “You could be doing this alone, you know. What if you were?”

“I’d be at home.” I wouldn’t even make it out the door.

“Well, you aren’t. We don’t have to leave tonight or tomorrow. We have time.” His watch beeps and he checks the time. “Happy birthday by the way.” This is quite the kickoff.

“Thanks,” I bury my face in his neck, sighing. “What’re we gonna do?”

He kisses my forehead and rests his chin on my head, “Let’s not do anything rash. We can go to the casino and-”

“That’s way too far of a drive. Think of something else.” He laughs. Like I said earlier, if I didn’t want this, I’d be sleeping. Preferably right now.

“Fine. We can find a hotel and weigh out our options. We have time Puck. Plenty.” I move my head from his shoulder and kiss his cheek. 

“Thanks. Eh, we’ve got 24 hours until my birthday ends. If we can find a hotel with a couple of shops and a sushi place nearby, we’ll be set.”

“We can do better than just sushi for your birthday.”

I cock an eyebrow, “I’m sorry, who’s birthday is it again? Didn’t yours pass? Aquarius season’s been over for a few months now, love.” He puts his hands up in defeat.

“Alright, alright. Anything the birthday person wants.” He slides off the car and holds his hand out for me. I take it and do the same. I look up at the sky and notice the moon. It’s a crescent. I was hoping for a full moon on my birthday. It’ll do. The stars will make up for it. Malcolm notices me looking and looks up too, smiling.

“We’ll get to the moon too. That I can assure you.”

[pftones3482]

Oceans Away

Also posted on my AO3 and Fanfiction accounts. Under a cut for length

~~~~~

“I cannot believe that you guys got me this gig!” Lance squealed, punching Hunk repeatedly in the arm as they waited for Pidge to talk to the bouncer. “Seriously, how awesome are you guys?”

“I’d be more awesome if I left with my arm intact, buddy.”

Lance grinned sheepishly and pulled his hand away, fiddling with the end of his shirt instead. “Sorry, Hunk. How do you and Pidge know about this place, anyway? I’ve never heard of-“ he squinted at the neon rainbow sign above them “-the ‘Voltron Lions’ before. It’s not a strip club, is it?”

“Lance, if this was a strip club, do you think I’d be wearing this?”

Hunk and Lance glanced up to see Pidge standing there, her brother Matt alongside her with an amused smile on his face. His arms were crossed over a plain black t-shirt that said “Hey Bartender” along the back, and he was wearing a pair of jeans and converse. Really, if Lance was being honest, the only sexy thing about the outfit was the way Matt’s biceps strained at the sleeves. “Dude, there are some people who would pay you to wear that for them. Got the whole ‘dark and dangerous’ look down.”

Matt rolled his eyes, having put up with Lance’s commentary since he was pre-pubescent. “Whatever. You want that gig or not? I convinced Allura that you were a good singer, and she’s taking my word on it. I don’t want to be out of a job if-”

“Hell yeah I’m up for it!” Lance yelped, leaning down and scrabbling with his guitar case. Hunk adjusted his grip on the cart that was tugging their equipment and they followed Matt and Pidge inside, nodding to the mustached bouncer as they passed. He gave Lance a smile, eyes twinkling almost dangerously, and Lance decided it was probably best not to tease the guy about his facial hair.

“Allura’s over there,” Matt said, pointing to the stage. A dark skinned young woman was bent over something, platinum white hair pulled back into a ponytail and hands clenched around a pair of pliers. “Our mic stand keeps slipping, so she’s trying to fix it.”

“I’ll go help her,” Pidge offered, darting away before anyone could argue.

Lance glanced around the room curiously while Matt led them to the back room that was used to store the band’s equipment when they had live music.

It was very clearly a nightclub that you had to hear about to get in, as there weren’t all that many people there yet. Granted it was only about 9:30, but still. The dance floor was checkered with red, black, and white tiles, and the floor was lit with yellow, blue, and green lights that flashed in time with the music. A couple of people hovered around the edges, like they wanted to dance but weren’t quite sure if it was socially acceptable yet.

The main dining area, or at least, the area with the most tables and booths, was decorated in a futuristic chrome-y way, strips of pink and pale orange running up and down the booths and the chairs decorated with the same colors over white fabric.

Lions were all over the place; stuffed lions, photos of lions, sculptures, statues, female, male. A few patrons that passed Lance held glasses with roaring lion heads etched into them.

“What’s with the lion theme?” Lance found himself asking.

Matt chuckled. “Allura’s father, who owned the place before her, was super into lions and lion conservation. He was a zookeeper before he opened here, if you’d believe that. Actually, all of our tips we get go to zoos that preserve the lion population.”

“That’s really cool,” Hunk noted. “So like, Asiatic lions, or-?”

Lance tuned them out, finding the bar in the center of the room and running his eyes appreciatively over the body of the other bartender there, his arms bulging even more than Matt’s and his low slung jeans clinging to a nicely sculpted-

“Lance?”

Lance whipped his head back to Matt, trying to pretend like he hadn’t just been glossing over his coworker. “Yeah?”

Matt gave a smirk, as if he knew exactly what Lance had been doing. “Here’s the room. Only Coran and Allura and I have keys to it, so your stuff will totally be safe.”

He followed Hunk into the room, stopping and glancing back at Matt as the man grabbed his elbow. “Shiro’s straight, by the way,” he whispered, his tone teasing. “Married to Allura, actually. Trust me, I tried that.”

Lance was certain he was the color of a tomato, but before he could protest, Matt continued. “His brother, though? Totally hot. Totally gay.”

He left at that, leaving Lance to nearly fall over at his sudden escape. Flushed, he stepped into the room and helped Hunk unload the cart of the things that they needed, namely the amp and his guitar.

“What was that about?” Hunk asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Lance scowled and punched Hunk again, ignoring his protests. “Nothing, loser. Help me get this stuff to the stage.”

Hunk chuckled but left it alone, and they grabbed their stuff and followed the signs backstage until the came out through the curtains, in time to see Allura high five Pidge triumphantly. “Nice work, Pidge!”

“It was just a loosened bolt,” the girl said with a modest shrug but a proud smile on her face. “Just needed replacing. Oh, there you guys are. Allura, this is Lance and Hunk.”

Allura stood and dusted off her jeans, thin golden bracelets jangling as she held out a hand. “Pleasure to meet you,” she said cheerfully, shaking Hunk’s hand first. “Pidge and Matt have spoken highly of you.”

“I doubt that,” Lance laughed, gripping her hand and jolting when her grasp was stronger than he had anticipated.

Allura laughed. “Well, maybe most of the time. But I’m pleased you wanted to sing here. The customers always enjoy live music. Your set runs until midnight, and as long as you and your crew are of age-” she shot a pointed look at Pidge on that “-you are granted two free drinks per hour.”

They dug out their IDs while Pidge pouted and, after getting the go-ahead from Allura, started setting up their equipment. “It’s dumb that I do just as much as you guys and can’t get a lousy hard cider,” Pidge muttered.

Lance chuckled, ruffling her hair even while she squawked in protest. “Two more years, Pidgeot. Two more years.”

“Lame. Whatever. I’ll finish setting up while you guys go get food. Your set doesn’t start until 10.”

They thanked her and hopped off stage, mingling through the crowd to the bar and grabbing menus from the stand on the edge of it. “We should probably just get appetizers,” Lance noted. “Or at least, I should. Don’t want to like…puke on stage.”

Hunk glanced sideways at him. “Are you nervous, dude?”

Lance pursed his lips and his fingers tightened on the menu, eyes staying locked on the food options. “No way!”

Hunk raised an eyebrow and set his menu down, crossing his arms. Lance huffed. “Fine, maybe a little. I just…this is my first actual gig, Hunk. One that isn’t for a dumb birthday party or sorority event. Forgive me if I’m a little anxious.”

“If you sing as good as you look, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Lance froze and turned to look at the guy next to him, eyes wide. The guy clearly hadn’t intended to say that out loud, because as Lance watched, his face turned beet red. “P-Pardon?”

The guy swallowed, resigned to the fact that he had unintentionally flirted with a random singer, and glanced up with a sheepish smile. “Sorry. That was um…kinda rude. I just couldn’t help but overhear, and I’m just saying, I’m sure you’ll be good.”

A slow grin slid up Lance’s face. “Because I’m good looking.”

The beet turned to a cherry and Lance could see both Hunk and the bartenders getting a kick out of the spectacle. “Shut up,” the guy muttered, burying his head into his hands.

Lance laughed, all nerves gone, and nudged the guy. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take it as a compliment, coming from someone as hot as you.”

Okay, the cherry had turned into a fire, and Lance glanced away to give the man a second to compose himself. Matt had turned to help another patron, so he settled his eyes on the sexy bartender and winked. “Two of whatever he’s having. Hunk?”

Hunk ordered a Sprite (Lance made fun of him until he was reminded that Hunk was the designated driver and couldn’t very well work sound equipment if he was inebriated) and the bartender came back in a few moments with a drink that was startlingly purple, sliding one in front of Lance in the other in front of the embarrassed guy.

He leaned a metal arm on the counter, which honestly surprised Lance for a moment, and raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. “Juniberry Jamba. Don’t go getting my brother drunk, now.”

He sauntered away to Lance’s jaw drop and the other guy’s spluttered protest of, “SHIRO!”

Hunk snorted, picked up his Sprite, and walked back to the stage, probably to help Pidge with the rest of set up, and Lance turned back to the guy, who was stirring the drink with a hard set to his face. “Sorry about that,” he muttered. “He’s…over protective.”

Lance worried at his lip for a second before shrugging and taking a drink and damn, that was fruity. “Not a problem.”

He took a second to caress the guy’s form, realizing that this was definitely the guy Matt had been talking about. He could see the resemblance, in the nose and the hair and the eyes and very much in the ass. This guy was hot, but-

“How the hell do you get away with a mullet?”

Lance bit back the words the moment they were out, watching as the guy turned to him in what could only be described as slow motion. “Excuse me?” he managed, looking like he had gotten it before.

Lance swallowed a drink and tried again. “I…sorry. That came out wrong. I just…I’ve never seen a guy pull off a mullet attractively.”

All he received in response was a stare, and after a beat it was too stifling, so he thrust a hand out with a weak grin. “I’m Lance. Uh….Sanchez.”

“Had to think about that, did you?”

The smirk the guy gave him was sly, and Lance found himself smiling more easily as his hand was taken. “Oh yeah. Forget my name all the time.”

The guy laughed. “Keith Kogane. Shiro’s my half-brother, so like…free drinks.”

He said it with a shrug, lighthearted, and Lance felt something clench in his chest. “Um���yeah. That’s cool. I’m just…playing a set.”

Keith lifted an eyebrow. “So I heard. I meant it, by the way.”

“Meant…?”

“You’ll do great. And even if you don’t, no one will care.”

Lance snorted, lifting his glass to his lips and looking at Keith over top of it. “Why’s that?”

“They’ll be too busy staring at your ass.”

He nearly spit his drink out, freezing at the last second and practically choking it on the way down. “What?” he croaked out.

Keith was laughing, lithe fingers tapping the edge of his glass as he waited for Lance to settle down. “You heard me. Staring. At. Your. Ass. I should know. I’ve been doing it.”

He really should not have tried taking another sip to wash down the first. Matt and Shiro were both looking at him in amused concern, and while he’d love to have one of them perform CPR on him, just so he could say he’d been kissed by gods (or devils, if you believed in the temptation route) he was more focused on the incredibly attractive man in front of him. “Is that a…a hint?” he coughed.

Keith smirked and leaned on one elbow, looking up at the clock pointedly. Ten minutes before his set. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”

Lance finally managed to collect himself, taking one last, long swig of the obnoxiously purple drink, and gave Keith what he hoped was a suggestive smile. “Like I’d let you leave.”

The smile grew. “Gonna stop me, pretty boy?”

He almost keeled over at that. “Count on it.”

Needless to say, his set went perfectly.

~~~~~

Six Months Later

“I did not!”

“Did so!”

Keith laughed as Lance tackled him, shoving the water balloon he had been holding down onto his boyfriend’s head, whooping triumphantly as the liquid spilled all down his hair and back. Keith snorted and grabbed Lance by the wrists, flipping him onto the grass. “Admit it,” he teased. “You can’t prove I hit you and not Hunk or Pidge.”

Lance stuck his tongue out, water rolling down his temples to the ground below them. “Fight me, Mullet.”

“Nah.”

He leaned over and kissed him instead, sweat and water and the odd taste of rubber invading their senses.

Seconds later, they were soaked to the bone and shrieking, spinning to find Pidge flinging the garden hose at Hunk and sprinting into Keith’s house, laughing her ass off.

Keith grinned at Lance. “Gang up on Pidge?”

He snickered and shut the hose off, picking up three water balloons in one hand. “Count on it. Hunk, come on!”

Hunk obliged happily.

~~~~~

One Year Later

“I did it!”

Keith glanced up from his astronomy text book as Lance burst into the apartment, face nearly split in two from the grin on his lips. It was contagious, and Keith found himself starting to smile. “Did what, exactly? Win the lottery?”

Lance scoffed and darted over to the couch, waving a manila folder in Keith’s face. “NO, loser! Better! Altean Studios signed me!”

Keith’s smile grew. “That’s great, babe!”

Lance kissed him excitedly before flopping back against the sofa and clutching the envelope to his chest. “Dude. This is the beginning to everything for me. For us.”

Keith chuckled, thumbing at the pages of his book and leaning on Lance’s shoulder. “How ‘us?’ I don’t do anything for the band.”

The sound Lance made in response to that comment was not remotely human, and while Keith was trying to figure out how vocal cords could produce such a noise, Lance jumped to his feet and straddled Keith, tossing the envelope to the couch and pressing his hands to either side of Keith’s face. He squished them in, forcing Keith to make a duck face, and set his eyebrows in a furrow.

“You,” he said very seriously, “are our biggest fan. You come to every rehearsal, every gig, every damn event, and you’re always there for me here, too.”

Keith tried to snort and pull back but Lance just held tighter, leaning down until their foreheads were touching and staring into his eyes. “I couldn’t do this without you,” he whispered. “I need you.”

Keith finally nodded and Lance lightened up on his squishing, kissing him again and then swinging his leg back to the ground. “This Rockstar has to go shower because he is gnarly,” Lance declared, shooting Keith a grin as he picked up his folder. “Feel free to join me.”

“Nah. I’ll be here, studying for my exam, like a good student.” He paused, watching as Lance sauntered towards their room with more swing in his hips than necessary, and then shot a sly smile at his boyfriend’s back. “Or maybe I’ll be in our room. Waiting.”

Lance glanced over his shoulder with an evil smirk on his face. “That a promise?”

“Count on it.”

~~~~~

Two Months Later

“Keith? You okay?”

Keith glanced over to find Lance watching him, propped up on one elbow in bed with a curious look on his face. Keith smiled thinly and padded back over to him, leaning across the sheets and kissing him gently. “Yeah. Just…nervous. I have one year left, Lance.”

“I know. You’ll do amazing, babe.”

“But after I’m done with this program, I can apply to teach almost anywhere, Lance.”

Lance’s nose wrinkled. “Is that a bad thing?”

Keith slid back into bed and curled away from Lance. He didn’t flinch when the tanned arm slid around his waist and tugged him back against a bare chest. “No,” he admitted. “It’s just…I never thought I’d get this far.”

His voice broke and Lance kissed the back of his neck gently. “Hey. You’re amazing, you know that?”

Keith rolled over, linking an ankle with Lance’s and lifting a hand to drift over his lips. “I couldn’t have gotten through this without you. I wouldn’t even have passed last semester if you hadn’t helped me. I know you’re busy a lot now, but I really appreciate-”

“Hey. Get some rest. I know. It’s okay. I love you. I’ll be here when you wake up, and we’ll keep talking then, okay?”

Keith smiled thinly, pressing his lips to Lance’s nose. “That a promise, Pretty?” he yawned.

Lance laughed and pulled the covers up over them, tucking his head under Keith’s chin. “Count on it.”

~~~~~~

Six Months Later

“Do you want to go on a double dinner date with Shiro and Allura this Saturday?” Keith asked, looking up from his texting and following Lance as he paced the room, tossing things into a backpack.

Lance paused for a second, tongue peeking from his mouth, and then groaned. “Shit, I can’t. Rolo, Nyma, Hunk, and I have to be at the bar by eight for set up. We probably wouldn’t be done in time.”

Keith pursed his lips, glancing back down at his phone. “We could do brunch too, if that’s better. But Shiro and Allura work the day shift Saturday, so it couldn’t be later than eleven.”

“I have a gig running late Friday night, I’ll be exhausted.”

Keith slumped a little. He hadn’t seen Shiro in almost two weeks, and he missed him more than he cared to admit. Ever since Lance had started playing more than just the Voltron Lions club, he had been with his sibling less and less.

Lance faltered and put his bag down, kneeling on the bed next to Keith and kissing his temple gently. “I’m sorry babe. I really am.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

He took Hunk with him to brunch.

~~~~~

Three Months Later

“Europe?” Keith snapped. “You’re going to Europe?”

Lance, misunderstanding his irritation for excitement, grinned. “Yeah, isn’t it awesome? Hunk and Pidge are both coming too. I wish you could come babe, but Altean studios doesn’t-”

“Pay for significant others, I know,” Keith growled.

Lance finally seemed to realize that Keith was mad and his smile fell. “What’s wrong?”

Keith swallowed and ran a tense hand over his jaw, struggling to stay calm. “You’re missing everything, Lance. My birthday, Christmas, New Year’s, my graduation. Do you even care?”

He looked like a fish out of water in that moment, mouth opening and closing, and then Lance’s disbelief slowly turned to anger. “This is my first international tour, and you’re worried about New Year’s?”

“That’s not the point, Lance!”

“Then what is the point?”

“I don’t see you anymore!” Keith shouted, clenching his hands at his sides and fighting not to shake. “You care more about your stupid music than you care about me, you always have!”

“Stupid?” Lance shrieked in outrage. “Fuck you! God, Keith, I have the chance of a lifetime! I knew you couldn’t afford to come, so I was going to Skype you every night, call you all the time, text every day. But apparently I’m supposed to drop every chance I get because someone has abandonment issues from when his mother left his sorry ass!”

Keith froze and Lance took a huge step back, a look akin to shame falling over his features. “Keith, I-”

“I think we should take a break.”

The words were soft but certain, and Keith looked away as he said them, fingers trembling. Lance winced, moved a hand out, and then pulled back. “I…if that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

“Okay.”

“…okay.”

Lance picked up his bag slowly, watching Keith with cautious eyes, and shouldered it, heading to the door. He paused, hand on the frame, and bit his lip. “I’ll uh…I’ll see you around.”

“Yup.”

It took every ounce of self-control for Keith to let him leave.

~~~~~

Two Months Later

“Voltron Lions, Takashi Shirogane speaking. How may I help you?” Shiro answered the phone, pressing it between his shoulder and cheek as he wiped down the counter.

“Hey Shiro. How are you?”

Shiro let a grin split his face. “Pidge! It’s great to hear from you! How’s Europe? We miss you here, even if Matt won’t admit it.”

Matt, wiping down the other side of the bar, flipped him off. Shiro returned the gesture and switched ears, leaning back on the granite behind him.

“I’m doing all right. I’ve picked up bits and pieces of tons of languages. But that’s not why I’m calling.”

Shiro frowned. “Is everything okay?”

Matt glanced over his shoulder, forehead wrinkled in worry.

“Oh yeah, no, I’m fine,” Pidge assured him. Shiro waved off Matt’s concern as she continued. “It’s actually about…um…could you and Keith get out here? Like…for the next concert? In London?”

Shiro nearly choked on his own saliva. “Pidge, that’s in like…two days!”

“I know, but it’s really important. Please. Hunk and I will pay for you guys. It’s…it’s Lance. I um…he hasn’t been so hot. Please just get here as soon as you can. I’ll transfer you the money, okay?”

“I…okay. Okay, we’ll be there.”

Shiro hung up the phone and ran his prosthetic down his face, flinging his towel at Matt’s back. “What is wrong with your sister?”

~~~~~

“I still don’t see why you dragged me to London,” Keith complained, crossing his arms as they waited to go inside the venue. “He doesn’t want to see me.”

“You don’t know that,” Shiro protested, handing their tickets to the person up front and leading Keith inside. “Besides, you’ve never been to London, and neither have I. Might as well see the sights while we’re here.”

“Right. That’s why you dragged me along.”

In reality, Keith wasn’t mad at Shiro for bringing him. He had been severely depressed the last few months. He had dropped his major and eventually been kicked out of college, going to work part time for Allura during the week instead. His astronomy books were collecting dust in the back of his closet, and every time he looked at them something nasty twisted in his gut. So he stopped looking.

When Shiro had abruptly pulled him from work and tossed him a suitcase and a change of clothes, saying they had a flight to London that evening, Keith had been certain he was going insane. But no, Shiro was very much telling the truth, and within six hours of the suitcase being thrown at his chest, they were tucked into a plane directly between a snoring old guy and a lady with a case of the sniffles.

Keith hated flying for the people alone.

When they had landed, it had been four am, but Keith’s body was telling him that it was barely 8 in the evening, so he and Shiro had found an all-night sandwich shop and gotten coffee and a couple of subs before finding their hotel and forcing themselves to sleep for the whole day.

And now he was at Lance’s concert.

He hadn’t talked to Lance since their fight, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been keeping tabs on his tour, watching his aired performances begrudgingly and tracking where he was going next. Hunk had kept in touch, texting every now and then to check up on him, and so had Pidge, and he appreciated it. He usually didn’t respond, or if he did it was a one word answer, but he was grateful that they still seemed to care.

The crowd around them was deafening as the opening act played, some band Keith had never heard of that honestly made him think music was a mistake. Shiro seemed a bit perturbed at all of the leather and cursing, which was amusing in and of itself.

“What if he doesn’t want me here?” he found himself asking again.

Shiro glanced down at him, looking relieved to have something to focus on other than the screaming punks on stage. “I told you, I’m sure he does. If he didn’t, he-”

“Shiro? Keith?”

They turned to find Hunk there, wearing a t-shirt that said “SECURITY” and holding a flashlight. His face lit up when he saw that he was correct, and the next thing Keith knew he was being swept into a crushing hug, one that, he would admit, made him feel a little lighter.

“I can’t believe you guys came!” he cried as he let go. “Pidge wasn’t sure you would!”

His eyes flickered over Keith and he frowned. “Dude, you okay?”

“Nervous,” Shiro offered.

Hunk nodded knowingly and waved as he was called away. The screamo band finally got off stage and Keith watched as Nyma and Rolo replaced them, Nyma on guitar and Rolo settling at the drums. He knew Pidge was backstage with a keyboard; she hated being on stage, plus backstage she could make all kinds of cool sound effects.

And then…

Lance.

When he strolled onto stage, the crowd started shrieking, and Keith was suddenly startled to realize just how many people were there to see him.

To see him.

God, he had missed seeing him.

He was wearing black skinny jeans and dark blue converse, a matching blue button down thrown over top of a white tee. His nails were painted red.

Red was Keith’s favorite color.

His breathing hitched as Lance greeted the crowd, voice smoother than he remembered it being, and he felt Shiro settle a hand on his shoulder. He leaned into his brother’s touch, shutting his eyes and nodding gratefully as the music started.

The total show was about two hours, during which Lance played mostly original music, with a few covers and a lot of bad jokes tossed in here and there. Keith didn’t even realize they had reached the end until Lance glanced ever so subtly off stage and then winked at the crowd.

“They’re booting me in a hot sec, y’all. So um…I just…I wrote this last song about a month ago, and I haven’t shared it yet because it’s…it’s personal. And there’s someone…someone I hope hears it tonight.”

The crowd quieted as Lance set his guitar down, letting Nyma take control of the chords and focusing his whole attention on the microphone in front of him, fingers curling around the base and eyes shutting for just a moment as he breathed.

“I never let my guard go down.

But you messed me up when you came around.

When the high wore off, know you needed space

But I don’t wanna wait, I don’t want a mistake.

Few thousand miles, and an ocean away

But I see the sunrise, oh, just like the other day.

Picture your eyes as I fall asleep, tell myself it’s all right

Oh-oh, as the tears roll by.

Ooh, I wish I could feel your face

Oooh, I’m helpless when I’m oceans away.”

At some point while Lance was singing, his eyes lifted and settled on Keith. He could see the exact moment Lance realized it was him, the way his voice trembled over the words, how his hands tightened around the mic, his body froze up. He kept singing, stare never leaving Keith.

“I learned to fake a smile as the time runs out,

I don’t wanna wait, I don’t want a mistake.

Few thousand miles and an ocean away

But I see the sunrise, oh, just like the other day.

Picture your eyes as I fall asleep

Tell myself it’s all right, oh, as the tears roll by.”

Keith swallowed and gave a weak smile, vision blurred by tears, and after a minute he worked up the nerve to push away from Shiro, through the crowd to the walkway. Lance kept his gaze trained on him as the song slowed, and Keith knew it was nearing the end.

He broke into a sprint, vaguely aware of Hunk holding back a security guard and murmuring something to him, and, as the crowd cheered, he vaulted up the steps to the stage three at a time, coming to a screeching halt in front of Lance and dragging him in for the longest, most violent kiss he could muster.

Shrieks of delight resonated from the audience as Lance laughed against his lips, lifting his hands to swipe his thumbs over Keith’s cheeks, wiping away the stinging tears that had finally fallen.

“I’m so-”

Lance cut him off, pressing a much gentler kiss to his mouth and then leaning their foreheads together. “Me too. How did you-?”

“Pidge.”

He chuckled again, taking a breath. “Of course. I should have known, that little shit.”

Keith’s eyes darted around Lance’s face and his resolve crumbled. “You wrote that…for…?”

“For you, you dummy.”

He wrapped Lance in a tight hug, pressing his face into his shoulder and probably getting tears all over his outfit. He couldn’t care less, especially when Lance lifted his hands to hug back. The roar of the crowd was faint, just a small reminder that they were not, in fact, having this moment in private, and then Keith stepped back, squeezing his hands. “I’ll be here when you’re done,” he promised.

Lance’s face split into a grin. “Like I’d let you leave.”

A smile played on Keith’s lips. “What, gonna stop me, pretty boy?”

Lance winked, causing another shriek to start, and curled his hand around the mic again. “Count on it.”

[jinkisbelly]

Colors - 1/?

I’m still on hiatus but I’ve been working on this for the last couple weeks and I finally finished the first chapter so I wanted to share.

Pairing: Jongyu, father/son Ontae

Rating: mm pg? pg-13 maybe for the age gap in it?

Warning: Age gap, but everyone is legal and its consensual. Jinki’s 44 and Jonghyun is almost 24.

w/c: around 2.7k

Jinki happens across a small period diner with a flirty, young waiter who is full of color.

Stepping into the small hole in the wall diner was much like a flashback to when he was a little boy in the late 70’s going to the one by his mama’s small apartment on 4th street. The checkered tile floor, the neon lights, and red and black leather, padded booths. The place was empty of customers he noted as he followed the sign at the front of the diner to find a seat. As he slipped into a booth near the jukebox in the back he took note that it looked authentic enough. Once his jacket was pulled off and laid on the booth next to him he picked up a menu pushed by the salt and pepper shakers. He was debating whether to get a burger and fries or a club sandwich when the sound of skates pushing off the tile flooring caught his ear.

“Hello, I’m Jonghyun and I’ll be taking care of you tonight,” The young waiter was petite in his uniform of tight black pants and a white t-shirt. There was a pink stripe straight up the side of his pant legs, and the pocket of his shirt was also a pale pink.“What can I get for you to drink Handsome?”

Words were forgotten as he blinked up at the man, “Excuse me?”

The smile on Jonghyun’s face fell, “Oh I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable!”

He flashed a little smile and waved his worries off, “It just took me by surprise.” With a little laugh, he looked at the man’s nametag, “I haven’t been called handsome in some time, mm Jonghyun.”

“You still didn’t answer my question,” When he looked up at Jonghyun the man smiled, “Handsome.”

He tried to ignore the warmth of his cheeks as he coughed, “Mm just a cherry coke. Thanks.”

“Be right back.” His notepad was put back into his shirt pocket along with his pen, and he pushed off toward the counter.

                               ——

The little notepad was pulled from his pocket as soon as the drink was pushed onto the table, “What’s your name handsome?”

Caught mid drink Jinki coughed a little, but once recovered he answered, “Jinki.”

“Nice to meet you Jinki,” Jonghyun’s hair was the same shade of pink as the laces on his skates. “What can I get for you?”

“I can’t seem to choose between the club sandwich and the hamburger.” Jinki smiled up at him, “How about you choose for me?”

Jonghyun’s eyes visibly raked up and down Jinki’s form, a sly smile on his face. “Coming right up Handsome.”

Jinki sipped his drink and tried to not let being called Handsome get to his head.

                                       —–

The following day he was sitting in his office about to eat the lunch he packed the night before when the phone on the desk began to ring. With a raised eyebrow he pushed the top white button that was blinking, “Yes Minho?”

“Your wife is on line 2.”

“Ex-wife,” He gently corrected him before running a hand over his face, “Alright put her through.”

“Sure thing Boss.”

A moment later and the phone still hadn’t switched over Jinki asked, “Anything else Minho?”

“Oh um, sorry,” The young man coughed, “About the whole not remembering the ex part.”

“That’s okay, you’ll get it.”

“Putting her through now,” The call clicked over and Jinki mentally prepared himself for 5 seconds before picking the phone up, and holding it between his ear and shoulder.

He barely had the thought to say hello before she was shooting off on a rant, “Why don’t you ever answer your damn phone for yourself? Always having that poor boy do your dirty work.”

“Yuna that’s his job, to answer my phone at work,” He laid his chin against his palm and stared across the room at the glass wall he shared with the hall, “I answer my personal phone myself.”

She hummed softly before asking, “Are you going to help Taemin move into his new place?”

“I told him I would,” Jinki squinted for a moment before moving to push around his probably cold rice now.

“I was just making sure,” She explained, and he could hear the sound of traffic through the receiver. “He’s looking forward to it.”

“I wouldn’t forget something I promised him I’d do Yuna.”

She grunted, “Sure.”

With a sigh, he asked, “Anything else besides keeping tabs on me?”

“Just be here at 5.” The call was ended, and after the phone was put back down he ran his fingers through his hair. He might have failed in a lot of things during their marriage, but being a good father wasn’t one of them.

                                                                ….. 

When he pulled up in his old driveway his son was stepping through the front door holding a big box. A big smile bloomed on Taemin’s face when he noticed his dad’s car. The box was pushed into the back seat of the open cr-v, and the young man was quickly pulling Jinki into a hug. “Not so hard you’ll break me.”

“Dad, you’re stronger than me.”

“You could take me.” Taemin smiled big, a little laugh leaving his lips as he threw an arm over his Dad’s shoulders. After a moment Jinki nudged him with his elbow as they made it into the house.“So, excited to be on your own finally?”

“To be honest it’s gonna be really great to not be between you and Ma.”

Jinki frowned as he took the last step to the second floor. “I’m sorry you’ve felt that way.”

Taemin flashes a little smile as he plops on his unmade bed. “Ma isn’t so keen on you being Gay, and she keeps trying to make me think that way too.”

“How do you feel about it, though?” He softly asked as he picked up a snow globe on the desk and a piece of newspaper to wrap it.

“Being gay isn’t something abnormal, it’s who you are,” Taemin stopped fussing with the box next to him and smiled up at his Dad, “And Ma is just…. Bitter. She thinks she turned you gay or something.”

“That’s not possible.”

“I know, I told her that.”

The sound of the top step creaking stopped their conversation as the said woman appeared in the hallway. She glanced at Jinki before smiling at her son, “How’s it going?”

“Just catching up,” Taemin was beaming, his happiness to be with his Dad washing from him in waves. “Dad was telling me how he was gonna let me drive his car.”

With a raised eyebrow Jinki asked, “Was I?”

“Mhmm, something about it’s safer for you to drive mine full of stuff with all the blocked line of sights.”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, that's… lovely dear.” She smiled tightly at her son before going to rummage through the box on the bed. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? You know you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need.”

“Ma I’m 24,” Taemin leaned forward to pull the box from her. “I think it’s time I get my own place.” He turned toward his Dad, “Don’t you agree?”

Jinki smiled down at the box he was finishing packing as he softly said, “Be sympathetic Taem. Your Ma isn’t used to having an empty nest.”

“You could have had more kids.”

The man’s nose was scrunched in disgust as he tapped a box close and lifted it from the desk, “I think you’re just enough.”

“I’m more than enough what you talking about Dad?” Taemin quipped with a cheeky grin.

“Come on Squirt.”

                                           —-

Jinki helped balance the box Taemin was carrying as the young man tried to get his key into the lock. Once the door was kicked open  Taemin smiled wide over at him, “Home sweet home.”

Once the boxes they were carrying were pushed on the kitchen counter they both headed back down. A few dozen trips later and all the boxes were finally in the apartment. Jinki looked around it, “I’m guessing the furniture we order hasn’t come in yet.”

“It would be,” Taemin began as he turned a box around to figure out what room it went into. “But Ma needed to see what we chose before it was completely processed to approve it or something.”

Jinki groaned heavily, “She should have just came with us then.”

“That just makes too much sense,” Taemin made a face as he opened a box labeled kitchen to find CDs. “This is most definitely not kitchen things.”

With a snort Jinki pushed a box into his arms, “This is, go start unloading it. I’m going to call the furniture place. It should never be this empty.”

                                            —–

By the time he was done with unpacking and helping Taemin put things away, most places to eat were closed. He thought about the diner he was at the night before and figured it was better than nothing. Maybe he would try the club sandwich this time around.

When he pulled into the parking lot the neon lights of the place were bright and colorful. He leaned against the outside of his car and brought a cigarette from the pack in his pocket up to his lips. As soon as the first puff was inhaled the tension and stress of dealing with his ex-wife just melted off of him. Even when they were split up, she still managed to second guess his decisions. He tapped the end of the cigarette with his finger, knocking the excess ash on the tip to flutter to the damp ground, and it was then he heard a voice to his right. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

Leaning against the diner was his waiter from the night before, Jonghyun, all pretty in pink, his skates still on his feet. A light jacket was pulled over his shoulders. “Most places are closed. Plus, I need to try that club sandwich remember?”

A slow smile pulled at the young man’s face, “Ah, yes. That’s right.”

“Want one?” Jinki asked a moment later as he gestured to the cigarette held between his fingers.

“No thanks.” Jonghyun shook his head. “I don’t smoke.”

Jinki squinted at him slightly, curiosity nipping at his heels, “Then why are you out here?”

“The moon is very pretty tonight,” Jonghyun shuffled a little, his hands moving to shove into the jacket’s pockets. “I come out here to see it on nights I work.”

“Ah, it is.” Jinki softly said as he gazed up at the sky, smoke blowing from his lips. He flicked the ash off the tip before putting the cigarette out and tossing it into the designated holder by the door. He then noticed Jonghyun had pushed off the wall to follow him in. With a smile, he opened the door for him, and Jonghyun bowed his head in thanks, but the shy smile on his face was still noticed.

“Just take a seat and I’ll have your order out,” Jonghyun’s voice was warm as he pushed past him. “Still want Cherry Coke?”

“Yes, thank you.” It made his chest a little warm knowing the man had remembered.

                                                              —–

For some reason, Jinki felt pulled toward that diner. Over the next couple weeks, he was in there at least once a week. Tired after a long shift at work, the case loads heavy during the big divorce season, and before he knew it he was pulling his car into the small parking lot. It seemed like as soon as he stepped into those neon glowing doors that all the stress of his ex-wife and his job just… melted off of him. He couldn’t quite explain it, but he didn’t want the feeling to go away. He took his seat and gazed at the menu until he heard the now familiar voice, “Well hello again.”

When he looked up Jonghyun’s hair was a soft lavender, bright and colorful. “You changed your hair, it looks good.”

Jonghyun’s cheeks were a little pink as he ran his fingers through the colored strands, “Ah ah, Thank you~ It was time for a change.”

“It’s a good change.” Jinki softly said as his fingers tapped on the back of the menu.

“Stop it,” Jonghyun huffed, “And tell me your drink order Handsome.”

“Mm, you pick for me,” Jinki put his arm up on the top of the booth and turned a little so that his leg came up onto the seat cushion, “Surprise me.”

Jonghyun grinned, “Coming right up.”

When Jonghyun brought his drink there was another on the tray and Jinki rose his eyebrow being as he was the only customer in the place. “I was wondering if you minded if I joined you tonight.”

Jinki was surprised and slightly flustered, “Oh, uh, no, I don’t mind.” He flashed a smile and gestured to the other side of the booth. “Sit.”

Jonghyun leaned his tray on the wall as he slid into the other booth with a big smile. His skate accidentally hit Jinki’s foot, “Sorry!”

“Barely felt it.” Jinki smiled warmly over at him, heart beating faster than it probably should and he wasn’t sure why. “How come I have your company more, mm, intimately tonight?”

“I wanted to get to know you more,” Jonghyun confessed. “You intrigued me so much, Handsome.”

“Ah,” Jinki breathed out, embarrassed, “I’m nothing much.”

“I beg to differ,” Jonghyun ran his fingers through his hair before leaning his head on his palm, his elbow against the tabletop, as he gazed over at Jinki. “You come in here in designer 3 piece suits, but you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of serving. Nothing like the Suits I usually get. Makes me wonder where you come from.”

Jinki scratched the back of his neck as his head was dipped down to hide the warmth from his cheeks. “Oh.. I’m just a simple divorce lawyer. I’m nothing special. I worked as a waiter through college.”

“Ooh, a lawyer.” Jonghyun hummed, interested, “This… might sound strange to you but-” His voice was cut off by the small bell being rung that the food was ready. The man flashed a smile, “Be right back.”

When he returned two plates were placed on the table, one with a chicken sandwich and the other with a fish sandwich. The chicken was placed before Jinki and Jonghyun smiled as the man picked it up and hesitantly took a bite from it. When pleased noises came Jonghyun was almost vibrating. “Good choice,” Jinki’s voice was muffled as he chewed behind his hand. “Thank you.”

“It’s one of my favorites.” Jonghyun softly added as he spread tarter sauce on the bun of his sandwich. His voice was quiet as he mumbled, “Junho always forgets the extra sauce.”

“You were saying?”

“Hmm?”

“Before the bell rang you were saying something about being strange or something.”

“Oh,” Jonghyun swallowed thickly before putting his sandwich down and wiping off his hands. “I told you that I wanted to get to know you better, but the reason is… Is because I like you Jinki.”

“I like you too Jonghyun that’s not-”

Jonghyun reached over to gently touch Jinki’s hand with his fingertips. “No Jinki… I mean more than just…this.”

“Oh.. Oh,” Jinki ran his tongue over his suddenly dry lips as he frantically tried to organize his thoughts. He couldn’t even manage to move his hand away because if he was honest with himself he liked it. “I’m not… I could be your father with our age difference. I’m a 44 year old divorcee who lives alone with a fat cat. I couldn’t… you have so much life in you.”

“But I want to know about how you feel about your divorce and I want to know that fat cat’s name and everything else that makes you who you are Jinki.” Jonghyun’s voice was warm and dripping with his emotions. “I know there are 20 years between us, but just give me a chance. One date and if you’re uncomfortable we’ll end it there and I’ll understand.”

After a moment Jinki finally said, “Okay,… okay. Where are we going?”

The smile spread across Jonghyun’s face was so bright Jinki could say he was finally starting to see colors in the gray muck of life he was moving through.

                                                                      —-

next