#watch me barely scrape a passing grade and drop down to middle set

[valoflunar]

Physics when i catch you physics

[strawberrysoup]

Let’s Review || Chapter 22

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks.

relationship: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character/Bucky Barnes, background Peter Parker/Tony Stark rating: Explicit warnings: Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Bucky Barnes, Dark Tony Stark, Dark Avengers, kidnapping, non-consensual&dark sexual situations, underage Peter Parker, emotional and psychological abuse, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat  additional warnings: open the read more, CTRL + F and search “content warnings” to skip to the additional "spoiler-y" tags for trigger warnings

hey guys! i made a ko-fi! if you enjoy this and have some cash you could spare to help me out with my bills, id really appreciate it! if you follow the link and check out the ‘posts’, there’s a snippet for ch. 4 of posies! 

Their parents had died a few months after her thirteenth birthday and Penny essentially blacked out for the next 8 months. She didn’t remember anything from that school year, although she’d evidently scraped by in all of her classes—actually, Penny was still convinced that little Peter, who was already showing signs of being a tiny genius, had done at least half of her homework. She didn’t remember Hanukkah that year, or the first Christmas she’d ever celebrated with Aunt May and Uncle Ben. She had zero friends coming out of that year, having accidentally pushed everyone away in fits of rage or sadness that she couldn’t even remember. The pain cut just as deep every time she remembered showing up to school the first day of her freshman year only to receive the cold shoulder from half her grade.

That was actually one of the first memories she’d retained after coming out of 7 months and 3 weeks of complete emptiness, how none of her best friends wanted anything to do with her. Everything had been confusing, somehow devastating all over again but… it was less. Her parents were gone and it hurt so much but it was nothing compared to the agony that had beset her form seconds after being informed her mom and dad were dead. When Penny racked her brain she could almost remember Aunt May crouched in front of her while she sat on the couch at home, holding her hands.

Somewhere in her brain, Penny had known that plane crashes were possible. Like, as a concept she understood the idea. The plane that was flying through the air stops doing that, and all the people inside the plane die. But it couldn’t possibly happen to her parents—they were her parents, they were infallible. Plane crashes happened, yeah, but her parents couldn’t be gone. Aunt May had told her several years later that she and Ben had been petrified she would try to kill herself, especially when the state tried to take the young girl away from the Parker’s.

They’d never had the money for therapy and Penny figured she’d never regain the memories from those months but honestly, she didn’t want them. The gaps were reprieves, the missing conversations, the absence of any and all detail. Wasn’t she sad to not remember her eighth-grade graduation? Fuck no, it was a blessing to forget how she’d felt like everyone in existence had their eyes on her—except for the ones she wanted.

There were times she absently wondered how disappointed her parents would be that she didn’t finish college, let alone get an actual high school degree. Her dad had been so smart, a genius in his own right. And her mom… Penny tried not to think of her mom often, not when it hurt so deeply. Mary Parker had been a gentle soul with an IQ of 150 who made Penny feel safe and loved and understood every day of her life. Her mother would’ve been understanding, she would’ve seen the necessity in her dropping out but it would’ve hurt that gentle soul to know the opportunities her baby had missed.

It hurt Penny in a special way that neither of Mary and Richard Parker’s children would be graduating from high school. Neither would attend university. They wouldn’t go on to press the limits of their parent’s knowledge or make an impact on the world. Somehow despite everything she’d sacrificed, Peter would never get the opportunity that he deserved. Her genius baby brother, his potential capped before he had a chance to try. God, it was an agonizing burn in her chest, a searing pain that made her nauseous and light-headed.

Her heart was pounding so hard she wondered if her ribs would crack. The cabin was lovely. Dark wood and an A-frame, a nice deck in the back and lots of windows. It was surrounded by trees, with dark needles or thin pale trunks, the purple mountains of the Rockies a lovely backdrop. It was colder than she’d expect for summer, especially considering the overcast sky and the breeze. The clouds moved so fast at such a high altitude and Penny watched trembling as a shadow passed over the house, chasing the light away before the sun followed its path ravenously once more.

Steve and Bucky were unloading suitcases from the back of the SUV, passing each other calculating looks as Penny stood practically frozen in place. Her shoulders were hunched almost to her ears, arms wrapped gently but tightly around the white kitten in her arms. It was purring quietly, the same way it had been for hours now. The little thing had cried the first few hours after they’d left the tower and subsequently the chubby cheeked orange kitten behind, only settling when Penny laid down across the middle seat in the SUV and let it burrow into the crook of her neck.

If Penny turned around she would’ve recognized the mournful looks on their faces, the pain in the lines of their eyes. The soldiers knew the hurt she felt, to be separated from their most important person—they understood that Peter was the most important person in Penny’s world. This separation was on their heads, but what could they do? They’d worked themselves into a rut, the three of them, wearing such deep treads into their negative behaviors that they couldn’t climb out. A complete shakeup was the only solution.

Both winced when she abruptly folded at the waist, clutching the kitten to her chest, and vomited over the pine needle strewn dirt of the driveway. Her hair fell in heavy, curly curtains around her face as she heaved again, hiding her tear-streaked face from the soldiers’ view. The sound of them setting the bags they held down registered in Penny’s ears but she couldn’t find the strength to collect herself before they converged on her.

“Come ‘ere doll, lemme take you up to the bathroom,” Bucky stated quietly, sweeping her and the cat up into his arms as gently as he could, “you can take a bath while me and Steve get everything unloaded. I think you’ll really like the cabin baby, we… well, we designed it just for you. If there’s anything you want to change, you just tell us. We want it to be perfect for you.”

She mostly caught flashes of green and white and brown, tucking her chin to look at the kitten snuggled into her cleavage. It felt cruel, to have taken the white one and left the orange, but the little chubby-cheeked kitten had taken to her brother so well—better than it had taken to her, even. Peter had named it Malcah and while it still didn’t like being picked up or held, it twined his ankles and meowed at him for love.

“Sit here baby,” the soldier set her carefully on the lid of the toilet, after having climbed a set of stairs and turned multiple blurry corners, “let me run your bath.”

It was all white tile, the toilet built into the wall. The tub was a freestanding clawfoot, with a spray nozzle and high sides. It was surprisingly small, considering how large the tub in the tower had been. Penny idly speculated that only perhaps one of the soldiers would be able to fit at time and it would certainly be a tight squeeze if she was forced in with them. There was a standing shower on the other side, where the roof wasn’t so sharply sloped by the A-framed roof. The nice thing, that Penny would never admit was very nice, was all of the plants. The entire room was predominantly white but there was a long-vined philodendron hanging gracefully over the tub, snake plants sitting on the shelf before the toilet. She could see a rubber plant and another type of vine by the sinks, framing the mirror.

They’d obviously gone to great lengths to make sure it would be something she liked, clearly evidenced by the bathroom alone. There were even candles waiting to be used on the antique, hunter green shelves and bath bombs with lovely scents. If she’d been able to design a personal bathroom, Penny figured it would probably have looked something like this and that made her hate it all the more.

The bastards were so in their heads they could barely see the sunlight. Penny was convinced that they were so distracted orchestrating her nightmare they’d lost the plot. They kept throwing stuff at her; beautiful plants, nice clothing, cute cats, lovely homes—but it didn’t mean a single thing. All of the possessions in the world didn’t make up for the gaping, rotting hole in her chest.

“Alright doll, let’s get you undressed,” Bucky shifted towards her once the water was at the right temperature and filling the tub, a small smile on his stubbled face.

“Do you think I’m debilitated?” She rasped after a moment, rolling her eyes up to stare him in the face before spitting a vomit speckled wad of phlegm onto the rug by her feet and setting the kitten on the shelf next to the snake plants. “Last time I checked I didn’t need to be treated like a baby. Are you gonna keep standing over me like a pervert? Get out.”

The soldier’s eyebrows shot up his forehead, surprised by the calmness behind her cutting tongue. Usually, when Penny got an attitude, it came with fury and fists and resulted in broken bones or bleeding wounds. This was overwhelmingly controlled; a bitchy rebuttal. Her voice was the gravelly tone she usually got after screaming or crying, dark brown eyes nearly black.  When he didn’t move, Penny rolled her eyes and stood, whipping her t-shirt over her head and dropping it to the ground.

“You’re bein’ a little moody, babe,” Bucky watched calmly as she undressed, her clothes piling up on the floor. “Wanna think about reigning it in?”

Penny’s hair was big and curly around her face, framing the clenched jaw and sneering nose. “What are you gonna do, kill me? Whatever.”

“Penny, what—”

“Peter is a thousand miles away,” Penny’s voice started out sharp but very quickly faded into a tired drawl, “you can’t hurt him from here. And what do I care if you hurt me? So could you either get the fuck out and let me take a bath or fucking drown me in it? Whatever it takes for this interaction to be over.”  

“Are you looking for a punishment right now?” Bucky’s lips pulled down at the corners, eyebrows furrowing, “‘Cause you’re working your way towards one really quick.”

“What’re you gonna do? Kill someone in front of me?” She groaned, reaching up to dig her fingers into the roots of her hair, tugging sharply before dragging it into a tangled, thoughtless bun on the top of her head “Or spank me until I can’t sit? Rape me? Could you just get it over with? I want to be alone, please!”

Bucky was silent for several long seconds before sighing through his nose, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows. “Take your bath, think about your fuckin’ attitude. Steve and I are gonna bring the bags in.”

He left the door open and Penny was further irritated to learn he had too much dignity to stomp down the stairs the way she’d hoped he would. His break in composure had been so good for her it was unbelievable—but there was likely a punishment on the horizon and Steve wasn’t likely to let her off easy once the brunet told him what she’d said. The bastard was stone cold when it came to that shit.

She stared idly at the steaming bath, naked with her clothes piled around her feet—the question was whether she wanted a bath or if she’d been resigned to it? The water was scented, because of course it was. It was even one of her favorite citrusy scents, she noted disdainfully, another thing they had paid so much attention to while keeping her locked up in a tower like fucking Rapunzel. Now in a cabin, she figured she was a Jewish Goldilocks surrounded by hungry bears.

But it smelled nice and her body ached from the long car ride, it had already been run so why not hop in? Besides, it would keep her busy while the soldier’s fucked around and she wouldn’t have to see them for a bit. They were shuffling around and she could hear the sounds of bags being placed around the cabin. The door banged off the walls several times, always accompanied by a groan or a curse, one of which she recognized as a Yiddish swear—which she refused to find endearing. The kitten meowed at her from its position on the shelf, looking put out to be so far away but Penny shushed it quietly.

“You won’t like the water, just stay there,” she murmured quietly at the distraught little creature, picking up a washcloth and dunking it into the perfumed water. “If I come get you I’ll make a huge mess.”

She ignored the kitten as it continued to communicate with her, chittering in annoyance and pawing the edge of the ledge for several minutes before evidently surrendering and lying down with its little paws draped over the edge. Penny smiled to herself, the cat’s tail was roughly the size of its body and when it curled the fluffy mass of fur around itself it became unrecognizable as a cat. The orange one would’ve continued to complain until Penny let it down, would’ve just barely given her ankles a rub before running off to hide somewhere.

That’s why she decided to leave Malcah with Peter; the orange cat didn’t run from or scratch him. She twined his ankles, sat next to his thigh on the couch, kneaded her little paws against him. Peter had decided both kittens were female, based on the very reasonable basis that he wanted them to be. Penny wasn’t sure, didn’t quite care. The only thing she ever referred to the cats as was Chatul—which literally meant cat in Hebrew. She’d shortened it to Tuly for the white kitten, for the sake of ease, but refused to say it in front of the soldiers. The cat was hers, she didn’t have to share it with them.

The sounds of the soldiers were becoming more consistent throughout the cabin and Penny figured they must’ve brought in all of the bags and were focused on unpacking. She could hear someone down in the kitchen, unloading the masses of groceries they’d brought up the mountain while the other was in the bedroom. Penny rubbed the washcloth over her skin lightly, the oils from the fragrance making her skin soft and slippery.

She didn’t hear him come in, she felt Steve come in. The blond’s presence was just as overwhelming as Tony Stark’s, an aura bigger than his body that filled the room. She could feel the disappointed stare, even as she continued to wipe herself down with the washcloth. Her teeth ground together as he watched in silence, just waiting.

“Bucky said you’ve caught an attitude, baby doll.”

“Caught an attitude?” She rolled her eyes. “Wow, if only I hadn’t become desensitized to living in constant terror—you never would’ve realized I’ve had an attitude the whole time!”

“We’re supposed to be turning a new page, Pen.”

“Turning a—” Penny scoffed, face appalled as she abruptly stood from the bath and ignored the water going everywhere, “we’re not turning a new page—You burnt the fucking book!”

The blond’s eyes widened; Penny had gotten angry in the past, furious even. She’d broken things, broken skin, broken bones and it was always accompanied by outraged screaming. But Penny didn’t make unnervingly straight eye contact while she did it. She was barely coherent at the best of times, mostly she screamed to the room at large before flying into a violent frenzy—it was different. It was startling, the light in her eyes and the way her voice cracked.

“There is no page turning, there’s no fucking­—fucking reconciliation here, Steve,” she snatched a towel from the rack behind the tub, wrapping the light green fabric around her chest tightly, “I can’t believe after, fuck, how long has it been? A month and a half? Two months? What fucking day is it?”

“…It’s July 2nd,” he found himself choking out, still feeling shell shocked as she stepped out of the tub.

“A month and a half,” Penny’s face twitched, just barely concealing the distraught look he could see she wanted to make and she started shifting past him, “Jesus Christ after a month and a half you guys still don’t get it—you know what, never mind. After a month and a half, I should’ve been smart enough to realize what dumbasses you both are.”

“Penny—”

“God, fuck!” She shouted up at the ceiling, stopping in place halfway out the door. “I have listened to you two talk at length for what’s apparently been a month and a half! I have tried to listen to your stupid fucking rules, I put in the fucking effort and you still decided to take away the one thing I care about! I’m sick and tired of you saying my name in that fucking tone, I’m tired of constantly internalizing and I’m tired of being fucking walked on! So I’ll tell you what I told Bucky—either kill me or leave me alone, but for fucks’ sake just give me space!”

A low mew followed her statement and Penny made an abrupt about face, stomping past him to snatch up the kitten from where it had been sitting on the ledge and storming past him again. It was like getting brushed by a wildfire and Steve fought the urge to take a step back when her wet hair whipped against him.

She dug through one of the bags that held her belongings angrily, kitten on her shoulder, knowing that the blond continued to watch her from the bathroom doorway. Shorts, underwear, a sports bra, a t-shirt, and a hoodie over that. She would’ve put on socks but she knew it bothered Steve when she went barefoot.

“Come downstairs, precious,” he sighed after watching her dress, gesturing towards the stairs, “we’ve got to talk.”

“We’ve always got to talk,” Penny snorted derisively but started down the stairs anyway, Tuly back in her arms, “but it’s usually just you two telling me what I can and can’t do. Stop bossing me around.”

Steve followed after her, aghast and confused—Penny had always been brave in the situations she was forced into, whether it was taking custody of her fourteen year old brother or dealing with being kidnapped from her apartment by a billionaire criminal, but she hadn’t ever antagonized before. She’d talked back, got irritated, snapped, but she hadn’t ever just been flat out bitchy.

On the main floor, Bucky had already put away all of the groceries and was folding up the cloth shopping bags to tuck away for next time. The brunet’s eyes locked on Penny for several long calculating seconds and her hackles raised; whatever was coming was going to be annoying. She refused to be afraid though, not when there wasn’t anything to lose. Not anymore.

“Sit on the couch, let’s talk,” Steve directed, watching as she seemed to contemplate following the direction before doing so, “things are obviously going to be different here, precious.”

“The cabin is equipped with the same AI as the tower but its restricted to monitoring and safety protocols,” Bucky explained, gesturing to the open layout of the main floor, “you’ll be able to go outside so long as you ask first, there’s plenty to do out there. When Steve bought it there was an overgrown vegetable garden out there, we had it cleaned up for you and the shed fixed up and stocked. A lot of good hiking around here too.”

“I can’t talk to JARVIS?” She asked, eyes tracking the way the soldier’s exchanged glances. “Of course not. Then I would have some sort of interaction beyond the pair of you. Damaging to your plan, huh?”

“Penny, the rules didn’t end just because we’re out of the tower,” Steve had one hand braced on his hip while the other rubbed over his forehead, “be—”

“If you say Be Sweet I’ll find a way to kill myself,” Penny intoned, a dry look on her face. “Jews don’t have an afterlife you know, I’m not afraid of going to Hell.”

“Penny, we’re trying—”

“Penny we’re trying,” she mocked in a high-pitched voice, dead eye stare once again boring into Bucky’s, “I’m not. I’m done trying. You’ll either kill me or drive me insane, I’ll never see Peter again—I…I failed. I couldn’t protect him, I couldn’t even keep him safe until he was an adult, isn’t that insane? Grand total of three years and some change and I fucked it up.”

Penny stood up from the couch, shaking her head as she went. The kitten was quick to jump off the couch and follow after her, meowing while that massive fluffy squirrel tail curled over its back. The open floor plan of the cabin came in handy for the soldiers though, because she couldn’t really escape even as she walked across the living room and into the kitchen.

It was hard to pretend she didn’t actually love the cabin. The kitchen was small, located beneath the loft that held the bedroom and bathroom. The railing to the loft was covered in live vines that hung down to create a tiny illusion of separation between the living room and kitchen, the kitchen itself was sage green with white and dark brown accents. There were more plants, open cabinets mounted to the walls, the sink was small but there was a dishwasher. She loved the spiral staircase that led up to the loft, framing the kitchen to the left with small shiny baubles hanging from it.

There was a hamsa and a cross, both stained glass and hanging from the tallest step. Pretty cat toys hung from the lower railings, just within the kitten’s reach. It made Penny’s skin itch, just how lovely and perfect the whole cabin was. More evidence that they were paying a freaky amount of attention to her and every move she made.

“You didn’t fail, doll,” Bucky’s tone was quiet and he hesitated for a moment before following after her several paces, ending up on the edge of the kitchen, “You didn’t fuck it up, Peter—”

“Peter is trapped in a prison in New York with a creep more than twice his age who wants to violate and brainwash him,” Penny was on her knees in front of the fridge, digging through the crisper drawer in the bottom. “Literally all I had to do to prevent that from happening was pay more attention to his daily life. Fuck, kid was practically raising himself with how often I was gone—never stood a chance, you know?”

“Don’t think like that Penny,” Steve sighed, leaning down to pick up the kitten that had circled back to his ankles and setting it on his shoulder, “there’s nothing you could’ve done. You know who Tony Stark is, you know what he’s capable of. You can’t heap that guilt on your shoulders.”

“Oh, can’t I?” She hummed, absently throwing a package of bacon onto the floor, followed by a flat of raw chicken and beef. “There can be dairy in here or there can be meat, not both.”

“We might need a second fridge,” Bucky observed quietly, watching Penny drop a couple of deli bags with sandwich meat onto the ground before she started shuffling everything into different places within the cooler. “We could keep it in the shed?”

“No room,” Steve shook his head absently, “garage?”

Penny had collected a stack of items from the fridge and piled them onto the counter, not even bothering to look back on the soldiers as she began puttering around. The open-faced cabinets on the walls held mostly dishes and containers filled with ingredients and she ducked down, opening the lower cabinets and digging out several pans.

“Do you… do you want a hand, doll?” Bucky asked hesitantly after several moments, watching her collect ingredients and tools and turn on the stove.

“No.”

“Penny—”

“Can I make lunch please?” She whipped around, an irritated look on her face and a spatula in hand, looking like she was about to use it to beat them both, “I’m hungry and I want to die, I figure you’ll only allow me to fulfill one of those wants so can you let me cook?”

The next thing she knew, Penny had been swept up into Bucky’s arms. The solider looked confused, lips curled in frustration but his brow furrowed with dismay. She stiffened at the action when he stomped back to the couch and sat down roughly, dropping her over his knees and landing a smarting blow to her ass through her shorts without warning.

“Thirty for this fucking attitude,” he barked, yanking the shorts down until the waistband settled under the curve of her ass against the tops of her thighs, “count.”

A sharp inhale followed the first skin to skin hit and Penny snarled in response, “one.”

“Apologize,” Steve’s fingers tangled into her hair, extracting the hair tie and letting the curls fall in chaotic waves over her shoulders and face.

“Two,” she counted dutifully and angrily, narrowed eyes landing on Steve’s face, “I’m sorry you’re a fucking monster!”

“That just added ten more, Penny,” Bucky sighed through gritted teeth, “you better reign it in.”

“You better just kill me,” she rasped, nails digging into his leg where she was holding on for balance through the hits, “because I won’t reign it in. I’m sick to death of you motherfuckers—Oh, fuck, three!”

“No cursing during punishments, start from one,” Steve ordered darkly, the hand in her hair pulling taught as he glanced into Bucky’s eyes—the baffling combination of anger and dismay and loss in the brunet’s eyes let him know he wasn’t the only one scrambling.

“Fuck you!” Penny shook her head roughly as if to dislodge his hand, canting her head to the side the best she could manage to look him in the eye, “beat me black and blue, I don’t fucking care. Don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter anymore! Nothing fucking matters.”

content warnings: spanking *edit, addition content warning: disrespectful terminology for Jewish people 

[carmenlire]

Haha Just Kidding. . . Unless?

read on ao3

Alec almost spits out his coffee as he hears Magnus’s confident answer.

“Kill Jace, Marry Simon, Fuck Alec.”

His best friend says it without blinking or taking a breath and the lunch table falls silent for a minute as everyone processes what Magnus has just said. Alec feels like he’s having a coronary and he hates himself, just a little-- okay a lot-- for the sheer yearning that response creates.

Jace immediately hops on the defensive. “Hey, why would you kill me? Et tu, Brute?” He tips his protein shake in Magnus’s direction. “I’ll have you know that I’m a hot piece of ass and ladies are lining up to get a shot at me.”

Rolling his eyes, Magnus replies, “You wear way too much product in your hair. Just the thought of running my hands through that greasy mess makes me ill. Plus, I don’t think we’ve ever had a civil conversation-- our marriage would be doomed from the start.”

Jace looks like he wants to protest but he just grumbles something nobody understands and chugs his shake. Instead, it’s Simon who straightens, looking intrigued and delighted.

“You’d marry me? Awe, I didn’t know you cared so much.”

Magnus’s reply is absent as his eyes are locked on his phone, fingers flying over the keyboard. “Alexander’s my first choice but since we’re roommates, it’s like we’re already married. You’re a lovely person, Sherman, and at least we have the same taste in music. Coming home to you every night ranks solidly in the middle of how I’d want to spend my time-- not great but better than hell.”

Simon snorts. “You charmer you.”

“Those are bold words, Bane,” Izzy interjects on the other side of the table and Alec didn’t even know she was paying attention. She has a biology test tonight and she’s been furiously reviewing her notes since she plopped down in the seat next to him. “Aren’t you afraid that sleeping with my brother would ruin your friendship?”

Magnus looks discomfited for a moment. It’s striking but Alec can’t read the look in his eyes as he looks uncharacteristically maudlin for a bare moment before he brightens again. Alec could almost believe he’d imagined the look of sour dejection.

“It’s just a game, Isabelle. Alec’s an attractive man and I, more than anybody else, should know how irresistible he is. We’ve been friends since middle school. If I was going to fuck anyone, shouldn’t it be someone I love and trust?”

Alec looks up and his gaze find its unerring way to Magnus’s. He feels a flush crawl up his neck as he meets the challenge in his best friend’s stare. Even though it was a silly game, as Alec looks at Magnus he can’t help but wish it was real instead of his best friend being his usually teasing and outrageous self.

Still. It’s Magnus and there’s really only response Alec can give him. “I love and trust you too, Magnus.”

He hears most of the table groan though Magnus himself doesn’t say anything. No, if Alec didn’t know better, he’d say his friend was struck speechless, though Alec detects the softening of his expression, his eyes growing wide before whatever emotion had flared bright in them is banked.

The moment suspends in time but before either one of them can say anything, Jace is cursing and breaking the moment. “Shit, we’ve got class in ten minutes, Alec.”

Alec groans but heaves himself up-- their class was on the other side of campus from the student center and they’d have to leave now and power walk to get there before Professor Herondale started lecturing. She takes Children’s Psych way too seriously and Alec really doesn’t want his participation grade docked for the day.

Shoving their things into their book bags, Alec and Jace leave with a round of goodbyes. As he passes Magnus, he feels his roommate sweep a hand over his back as he murmurs, “Bye, darling, see you later.”

It’s not until they’re halfway through class and ostensibly working on a group assignment that Jace punches him in the shoulder with a look like Alec’s supposed to know why the hell he just bruised him.

“What the fuck?”

Jace rolls his eyes. “Don’t give me that shit. Did you hear what I heard at lunch? Magnus totally wants in your pants, dude.”

Wincing, Alec’s struck with a pang of resignation for his brother’s delicacy. “You know he didn’t mean it like that.”

“He said, and I quote, ‘fuck Alec.’ In what world does that not mean what it means?”

“Since we’re best friends and he was answering an asinine question,” Alec hisses back, glaring at Jace. “He probably just didn’t want to leave me out.”

Jace just levels him with a look. “You’re dumb as shit, you know that right?”

“Fuck off, Jace,” Alec snaps and Jace’s eyebrows shoot up at the vehemence in his tone.

“Woah, bro. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I thought it was good news! You know Magnus wouldn’t joke about boning his best friend just to do it. You mean too much to him and we all know how gone you’ve been over Magnus since, like, eighth grade.”

Alec sighs and it feels like the weight of the world is on his shoulders. “I can’t get my hopes up, Jace. I’ve been in love with him for years but he doesn’t feel the same way.”

Groaning like they’ve gone around the block about this a thousand times-- because they have-- Jace facepalms. “How many times do I have to tell you-- Magnus feels what you feel but you’re both too stupid to get past your own hang-ups to talk about it.”

Alec doesn’t deign to answer and then Herondale is calling for the class’s attention at the front of the room. Both Jace and Alec slink down in their seats, desperately hoping they don’t get called on since they didn’t even make it through the front of the worksheet, let alone the back.

It’s dusk by the time Alec’s pushing his key in the lock of the apartment he shares with Magnus. Running a hand through his damp hair-- Rugby practice had ran over and his hair’s still wet from the shower he'd taken afterwards-- Alec pushes open their front door as he readjusts the bag on his shoulder.

He’s just set to call out a greeting to Magnus-- he’d texted his roommate when he’d gotten out of the shower to let him know when he’d be home-- and he smells pizza from where it must be waiting in the kitchen.

The words die on his lips, however, as he hears what sounds like Magnus arguing with someone.

“No, Cat, I’m a dumbass,” Magnus groans. “I can’t believe I just said it like that but it-- it just came out and I sure as hell wasn’t going to take the words back.”

Alec frowns, confused, though his lips twitch at Magnus’s propensity for being dramatic. Setting his bag down in the little hallway next to the door, he steps out of his Nike sandals and pads to the living room. Magnus is pacing in front of the tv but he comes to a stop with his back to him as he listens to Catarina on the other end.

He watches his friend’s shoulders slump and the urge to go over to Magnus and engulf him in one of his patented bear hugs is almost overwhelming. Hearing Magnus’s next words, though, Alec freezes, hardly daring to breathe.

“Of course I meant them,” Magnus sighs and he lifts a hand to rake it through already disheveled hair. “Alec could have me any way he wanted. The problem is that he doesn’t want. He just doesn’t see me like that, Cat.”

The words set off a chain reaction in Alec and he half thinks that he’s in the middle of an out of body experience. It seems too good to be true but when Magnus starts speaking again just a few seconds later, Alec allows the endless hope that he's been pushing down for years to spring to life.

“He’s my best friend and I’d rather have that than make a move and not even have him in my life anymore. I don’t think I could live without him at this point-- hell we’ve been roommates all four years of college and before that we had sleepovers at each other’s houses at least three times a week. No,” Magnus says resolutely. “This afternoon was just a game and it doesn’t matter if I’m in love Alec and want him to dick me down into next week I--”

At that moment, Magnus turns around whatever he was about to say dies on his lips as he sees Alec standing there in the doorway.

Neither one says anything for a long moment.

Alec hears Cat grow progressively louder through the phone, her tinny voice growing more insistent as Magnus doesn’t say anything.

Finally, Magnus mumbles, “Bye, Cat,” and hangs up. Dropping his arm, Magnus looks up at Alec with fear in his eyes. His devastation is fairly palpable in their tiny living room.

While Alec still feels like he walked on set of a tv show he’s never seen before, it’s the most natural thing in the world to move until he’s standing right in front of his roommate, his best friend.

Swallowing hard, with Magnus’s words ringing in his ears, Alec scrapes enough courage together to say, “You love me?”

And it should be a ridiculous question-- because duh. They’ve been friends for almost ten years-- over half their lives. Magnus was the first person Alec came out to and he was the first and only person Magnus called their freshman year when his at home perm went horribly wrong and they fit together like they’re made for each other.

Alec’s often thought that if he couldn’t have it all then it was enough to be Magnus’s platonic soulmate, his very best friend.

Now, though, he’s struck by the most fervent longing and he can hardly believe his eyes but he thinks he sees it reflected in Magnus’s gaze.

He watches as Magnus takes a deep breath before leaning imperceptibly closer. His voice is scarcely a breath when he corrects, “You must have heard wrong, Alexander. I said that I’m in love with you.”

The words pierce the spell that seems to have fallen over them and without thinking, Alec’s lunging forward, cupping Magnus’s cheeks and hauling him close for a kiss that feels like coming home.

By the time they pull apart, they’re both breathing hard. Alec doesn’t open his eyes immediately, instead content to nose along Magnus’s jaw. He relishes the closeness, the feel of Magnus sweeping absent hands over his back.

Without thinking, he says, “Oh, thank God.”

He’s gratified to hear Magnus snort before he’s pulling back and looking at Alec with the world’s fondness in his eyes. “I think that’s my line.”

And Alec doesn’t know what it is-- the relief and happiness on Magnus’s face, the way he’s stroking a thumb over Alec’s shoulder in a move that doesn’t even seem conscious, or the simple fact that he’s so happy that it feels like he’s exploding-- but everything melts away except making sure Magnus understands his feelings.

“What,” he says softly, hint of a grin curling over his mouth. “Did you really think I wouldn’t be madly in love with you, too?”

He watches the words land on his best friend-- the way Magnus’s eyes widen and flare bright with delight, the shudder that wracks him as he pulls Alec closer.

It’s Magnus who closes that distance a second time and the kiss is far gentler but contains so much more depth that Alec feels like he’s drowning.

They collapse on the couch just a few feet away and spend the rest of the night kissing and laughing and getting caught up on their shows. By the time they remember, their pizza is cold but neither one minds as they bring the box straight to the where they’re sitting in the living room.

When it’s late and they’re both full and exhausted, Alec stands and lets the blanket that had been wrapped around them fall to the floor. Keeping Magnus’s hand in his, he takes a single step back towards his bedroom. “Ready?”

It’s an innocuous enough question. It’s a statement of fact that they spend more time sleeping together than they do apart-- a hold over from all of those sleepovers growing up-- but the single word is loaded with meaning tonight. In the dim light of their apartment, Alce watches a dozen emotions flit over a face he knows as well as his own, though damned if he can read them.

But Magnus doesn’t hesitate as he squeezes his hand and climbs gracefully to his feet. “Lead the way, darling.”

The two fall asleep wrapped around each other in Alec’s shitty twin bed. Alec had thought he’d be too wired to fall asleep after the day he’d had but with Magnus so close and his heart at ease for the first time in ages, he drifts off almost immediately.

The next morning, the two of them wake up and when their gazes crash together-- both of them eager to prove that the night before wasn’t just a dream-- they each breath a sigh of relief. They have a long, incredibly overdue conversation while they make breakfast and by the time they’re sitting down to eat their infamous french toast, they’re on the same page.

A few days later, when they join their friends at lunch, Magnus and Alec keeping holding hands even as the group’s eyes zero in on them.

It’s silent for a beat before Isabelle starts crowing, startling everyone. “Holy shit,” she exclaims and while her smile lights up her face as she shoots a happy look at Alec, it quickly turns mercenary as she turns it to Jace. “You owe me fifty bucks-- I told you that giving Magnus a FMK scenario would settle things.”

When Jace stares at Isabelle before going to Magnus and Alec’s hands, before going back to Izzy, Alec figures no one’s surprised when he jumps out of his seat. Pointing at Alec, he says in a serious tone, “I’m happy for you, bro-- it’s about time,” before pivoting to point at Isabelle and saying just as seriously, “You’ll have to kill me for it,” and running out of the student hub like his ass is on fire.

Everyone waits to see how Izzy will react but she just shrugs carelessly and takes a bite out of her candy bar. “I know where he sleeps and where he keeps his protein powder.”

Everyone laughs and Magnus and Alec share an exasperated, if fond, look as they take their seats.

They don’t let go of each other’s hands the whole meal, which makes eating lunch a little difficult, but neither one minds at all.

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Broken People Chapter 4

(AO3)

“What did you do to my arm?” Bucky growled, grabbing Tony by his throat and lifting him onto his toes.  He heard the guards down the hall stop in their tracks to stare.

“I don’t know what- I’m sorry, I can fix it!” Tony pleaded. “Don’t-“ he made a gurgling sound like Bucky was choking him into silence.

“Now,” Bucky demanded, narrowing his eyes at Tony warningly. He shoved Tony towards the maintenance shop, stalking after him as Tony hurried down the hall. Behind them the guards said something to each other, and Bucky prayed they wouldn’t come investigate. But eventually they just kept walking the other way, and his shoulders relaxed in relief.

Tony hurried to let himself into the maintenance shop and came around one of the desks as if grateful to put it between him and a furious Winter Soldier. As soon as Bucky came through the door and slammed it behind him, Tony hit a button and the red lights on the cameras in the room started to blink.

“Ha,” Tony said, and held up his middle fingers at them. Bucky found himself smiling, and when Tony turned to face him, looking smug and victorious, he leaned over and pressed his lips to Tony’s.

When he pulled back, Tony looked stunned.  Bucky immediately felt ashamed. “I’m s-”

But Tony silenced him with another kiss. “No more apologies,” he whispered against Bucky’s mouth. Bucky felt hands framing his face, cool and rough with callouses, as Tony kissed him again and that was the happiest Bucky could ever remember feeling.

(Watch out for the break!)

Too soon, though, Tony pulled away.  “We don’t have much time,” he said regretfully, and Bucky nodded as they got to work.

Bucky had negotiated thirty minutes of time alone with Tony once he woke up, and he spent the time holding his hands as he gave him back their memories, every word that they had ever passed back and forth after the chair.  A knock on the door was a one minute warning so he squeezed Tony’s hands one last time and let go.  “There are people here who need to talk to you, doctors to make sure that you’re ok.  They’ll give you everything you need, yeah?”

“What about you?”

“What do you mean?” Tony glanced at the door and Bucky understood.  “If you want to see me again, just ask. I'm not going to be far away.” Bucky’s hands itched to touch, wanting to wrap around Tony and never let go, but instead he clasped them behind his back and stepped aside for the doctors to come in.

Bucky was dozing lightly when voices in the hall woke him. He sat up sharply when he realized that one of those voices was Tony’s, yelling angrily. Then his cell door was opened and Tony was shoved through, still cursing.

“This one is starting to forget who’s in charge around here,” one of the guards said with a sneer. “Put him in his place.”

When he saw the purple swelling near Tony’s eye and the blood on his chin from a split lip, Bucky didn’t have to fake an angry snarl as he stood and approached the guards.  The guards backed away quickly and slammed the door, this time apparently more interested in making a quick escape than staying to watch.

“Bastards,” Tony spat, kicking the door. “I caught them stealing from the armory and they threw me in here for plausible deniability.”

With a long exhale, Bucky captured Tony’s chin and held him still while he pressed cool metal fingers to the bruise around his eye.  After a moment Tony sighed and leaned his head into the touch.  “I think what really might have pissed them off is when I kicked one of them in the nuts,” Tony admitted. Bucky snorted in amusement.

“Anywhere else?” Tony wasn’t moving like he was injured, but-

“Them or me?” Bucky huffed and Tony grinned like he thought he was clever.  He pointed to the cut on his lip and said, “Kiss it and make it better?”

Bucky had been wrong. This was the happiest he could ever remember feeling.  With a slow smile he buried his hands in Tony's silky hair, feeling the strands curl lightly around his fingers, and held Tony still as he leaned over to brush a barely there kiss across the cut on Tony's mouth, tongue flicking over it lightly. Tony made a quiet noise, almost like a sigh, and his eyes slid closed whiel Bucky pressed another feather-light kiss to the corner of his mouth, then to his eyelids and temple.  He rested his forehead against Tony's and they breathed together for a few moments; then Tony made a thoughtful noise deep in his chest and tilted his head up to capture Bucky's mouth, tongue running over the seam of his lips until Bucky let him inside with a groan.  As his tongue thrust inside, hot and wet and eager, curling around Bucky's, setting a rhythm that Bucky felt at the base of his spine, Tony's hands slid under Bucky's shirt.  Bucky inhaled a ragged breath at the feeling of Tony's hands on his skin, nails raking up his ribs and leaving goosebumps in their wake.  Bucky went still, breathing shallowly, not wanting to do anything that would make Tony stop, that would interfere with the miracle of Tony's body pressed eagerly against his own.  His knees got weak when he felt how hard Tony was; he wanted to drop to the floor and put his mouth on him, press his thumbs to the hip bones that sometimes showed above the line of Tony's pants and hear the noises as Tony came apart above him -

Noises.

"The guards," Bucky whispered against Tony's mouth with whimper.  They were approaching quickly; someone must have noticed that Tony wasn't where he was supposed to be.

Tony groaned and bit Bucky's lip as he pulled away, then suddenly there was a screwdriver pressed against Bucky's carotid artery.  Bucky suppressed a smile as Tony said, "Get your fucking hands off me," and backed away, almost running into the guards as they opened the cell door.  Bucky sat down on his cot, knees wide, and saw Tony's eyes go dark as he eyed the thick line of Bucky's erection.

"Did we interrupt your fun?" One of the guards leered but Bucky ignored him, keeping his eyes on Tony's until the cell door slammed closed.

“So?” Steve asked expectantly as Bucky joined him in one of the observation rooms. “How did it go?”

Bucky shrugged.  “It will take a while for all of the memories to come back.” He watched the video feed as Tony submitted to the doctors’ poking and prodding. “What’s going to happen now?”

Steve sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, which meant that he disagreed with what he was about to say but wasn’t committed to fighting about it yet.  “Fury got a warrant allowing him to keep Tony here until ‘such times as he can be proven to not be a threat to national security.’”

Bucky went still as rage swept through him.  “So he just went from one prison to another?” He said carefully.

Steve heard the note in his voice and stepped between him and the door, holding his hands up even though Bucky hadn't moved. “Look, you have to admit that there is at least a possibility that he has trigger words you don’t know about.  Fury's just playing it safe.”

Bucky’s mouth opened to protest and then he shut it again, turning away and running his hands through his hair, tugging a bit in frustration.  “How do you prove something like that?”

Steve shrugged helplessly.  “But it sounds like Stark Industries is trying its best to get Tony out of here, so maybe let the lawyers duke it out while Tony…” They both glanced at the screen, where Tony was staring into space while doctors recorded his vitals and took blood. “Gets better,” Steve finished.

Bucky stared hard at Tony as they sat across from each other in the personnel carrier, flanked by members of the insertion team on each side.  His handler had decided that Tony was to assist in the mission, to gather intel and leave behind a computer virus.  Bucky had gotten a sinking feeling when he’d heard the mission briefing, and the longer Tony avoided meeting his eyes, the worse it got.

It’s a test, Bucky’s instincts were screaming.  Tony’s obedience was being tested, and from the set of Tony’s shoulders, he was going to fail. As Bucky went the motions for the mission, every step felt like he was going to an execution.  He knew exactly when Tony would make his move, and he knew the others were expecting it too, knew it from the way they were watching him.

Don’t, Bucky pleaded in his mind. He wanted to pull Tony back, pull him away from the wolves that were waiting for him to run.  But when the team split he left without looking back.

When his mission was done, he jogged back to the extraction point with barely concealed urgency.  The personnel carrier was waiting with the engine running and Tony had been thrown into the back, arms and legs bound with military grade zip ties. He was scraped up and bloody but alive. His eyes were unrepentant when they met Bucky’s.

The team leader grinned and nudged Tony with the toe of his boot.  “Caught him trying to escape, just like the boss thought.  What do you think is going to happen to him?”

Bucky went cold and his chest tightened as he climbed into the carrier, remembering what they’d done to him when he’d tried to escape.

“Tony’s been asking for you,” Steve said, finally cornering Bucky in the kitchen.

“I know," Bucky sighed and braced himself on the counter, hanging his head. “But I can’t just…make small talk while I wait for him to remember all the things I…to remember everything.”  When Steve was silent, Bucky glanced up to see Steve studying him. “What?”

“Buck, what do you want to happen here? With Tony?”

“I want him to be happy.  After everything, he deserves that, to be able to do whatever he wants and not be afraid anymore.”  Bucky’s heart squeezed at the thought; God, Tony was going to change the world and Bucky couldn’t wait to see it happen.

“Do you want to be a part of that?”

“I…” Bucky took a deep breath to keep his voice steady.  “He deserves better,” he said instead of answering.  Tony deserved someone beautiful and smart and competent, someone who could lift Tony up instead of dragging him down.  He looked down at his hands and remembered washing Tony’s blood off of them and swallowed against the queasiness.

“Bucky, you deserve good things, too,” Steve said softly. “You deserve to be happy.”

Bucky shook his head. “You don’t understand, Steve.”  “Hit him again,” his handler ordered. “Until he learns to stay down.”  When he met Steve’s eyes, his gaze was bleak. “With Hydra, he was my reward.  But I was his punishment.”

“Well, this would be disappointing if it wasn’t so predictable,” his handler said as he considered Tony, still bound and little more banged up from where the insertion team had dragged him inside and thrown him into the sparring cage. The other Winter Soldiers were starting to circle and in the corners of the room guards were taking bets. “What should we do with him?”

As suggestions were called out Tony blanched and struggled to sit. Bucky’s hands curled into fists at the cruder ones, stomach turning.  His mind raced for an out, a way to shield Tony from-

After a moment the handler waved his hand and everyone fell silent, silent enough to hear Tony’s harsh breathing.  “Well, you know, if he wants to be free so badly, maybe we should let him go.”  A nasty laughter erupted through the room.  “How long do you think it will take for him to beg to come back?”

Bucky forced himself to stay, to listen to Tony pounding on the metal door to the bunker and pleading to come back inside.   He listened while the pounding grew weaker and weaker until his handler checked his watch and gave Bucky the nod.  The sub-zero temperatures hit Bucky like a wall of ice as opened the door, the wind gusting snow inside the entrance.  He picked Tony’s limp body up and carried him to medical, praying that it wasn’t too late.

“So how long are you going to keep him here, Fury?” Bucky said, slamming the door to Fury’s office while his secretary winced behind him.  “It’s been a week.  You haven’t found any triggers and Tony has jumped through all your little hoops and passed with flying colors.”

“Barnes,” Fury said calmly, waving a hand at the chair across from him.  “Have a seat. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

Bucky scowled and closed the door behind him. “What?”

Fury leaned his elbows over the desk and interlaced his fingers. “You said in your report that you were instructed to bring Tony Stark to Hydra after Howard and Maria Stark were dead.”

“Yes,” Bucky said flatly, never happy to be reminded if that. "And?"

“Did you ever find out who gave the order?”

“My handl- Pierce,” Bucky corrected.  “Everything went through Pierce.”

“Did you ever wonder why? Why take Tony? Why not kill him too, or leave him at the scene?”

“No,” Bucky said slowly, after a long moment of thought.  “I assumed Hydra saw him as a potential asset, so…”

“Possibly,” Fury allowed, leaning back in his chair. “But what if it was less about what Hydra was getting, and more about Hydra was…removing?”

Bucky sat back too, and thought.  “You think Hydra was getting Tony out of the way? Why? For who?”

Fury nodded.  “Obadiah Stane took over Stark Industries as a temporary measure when Tony Stark went missing.  He’s never taken the steps to have Tony declared dead, even after all this time. Odd, since he's been gone for almost two decades.  But then, if he had, the company would probably gone public and he would have lost control of the company and the Stark fortune.”

“And now Stane is trying to get you to release Tony,” Bucky said, feeling his insides go cold.  “But...that would mean that Stane would have to step down, right?”

“Unless a tragic accident happens.” Fury spread his hands wide.  “I mean, the possibilities are endless.” He started counting on his fingers.  “Suicide, he snaps and attacks someone and is killed in self-defense, crazed fan kills him in a murder suicide, even a car accident.”

“So you’ve been keeping him here for his own safety? Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Until I know how Stane found out that Tony was here, I don’t trust anyone but you and Steve.  But Steve’s got a shit poker face, so. Right now, it’s just me and you.”

Bucky ran his hands over his face. “Fuck.  So what are we going to do?”

“Well, first, you’re going to have to suck it up and talk to him,” Fury said.  “Because he hasn’t stopped asking for you, and I’m afraid of what he’ll do if he starts to think we’re keeping you separated on purpose.”

[himurakenshin]

The Kids Aren’t Alright: Chapter 2

i haven’t written in months, man, im fucking dying

Chapter Index: (Chapter 1, Chapter 3, Chapter 4)

Onigawara stood outside a classroom, staring at his superior through the glass window. Shigeo was hunched over, leaning on his arm, his pencil moving across his paper furiously. Some of his jacket was stuck under his arm. He quickly sat up and brushed it off the table, going back to lean onto his arm. He took all his work so seriously, it's ridiculously hard to believe he was the shadow leader of Salt Middle School. His bowlcut wrapped neatly around his head, his undercut showing skin underneath.  He had many battle wounds from previous fights against other gangs, including stitches on the back of his head, which were clearly visible.

He seemed to be trying so hard. The shadow leader of Salt Middle School. Struggling on a test. You wouldn’t think a thug would even give a damn about grades, nonetheless a simple test. He constantly shifted his position, struggling to figure out his answers. Hands intertwined in his hair, they traveled down to keep his paper steady as his pencil scribbled a circle on his scantron.

Student by student went to turn in their papers in the front of the room. Shigeo raced up to the front and gave his scantron to the teacher in the front before returning to his seat. He was one of the few with a test left. Sliding back into his seat, his head fell onto his crossed arms, to sleep out what was left of the class period. He acted like a normal student, but from his outer appearance and life in a gang, you would think otherwise.

The thug moved from the window, to go to the bathroom, like his original intention.

Shigeo’s eyes flashed open, trailing to the delinquent passing his classroom, behind the glass. He squinted at him, hoping he’d realize he was watching.

Onigawara felt a shiver run down his spine, urging him to get past the classroom as quickly as possible. A relieved sigh escaped his lips, as he entered the boy's bathroom.

Sitting on the porcelain throne, he held a strong grin. He was going to get Shigeo and Teru to meet. And he knew that Shigeo would destroy him. Snickering, he clasped his hands together. This was going to be perfect. He couldn't wait to see Teru's smug face get smashed into the ground or even through the wall. He wouldn't be smiling then, once his pride shattered around him.

Days passed before he set his plan into motion.

“Shigeo-senpai, there’s something you need to see.” Onigawara said, rushing up to the smaller boy. In response, Shigeo stared at him blankly.

“I can’t stay late after school today, I need to study with my brother.”

“It’s about your brother.”

Shigeo tensed up intensely, his pupils shrinking. His fluffy hair raised off of his skin, his aura flaring. His jacket whipped around his body. Onigawara was starting to regret his choice of words. Why did he have to say it was about his brother?? His hand slipped into his pocket, revealing a piece of paper. He handed it to his leader, who slowly took the piece from him. His eyes scanned the paper, his fists tightening, tearing through the paper. The pressure around Shigeo was deathly, it could crush you in an instant.

“To White T Poison:

We have your brother in our custody. Meet us in our courtyard, you freak.”

It was poorly written.

Shigeo dropped the paper, turning around. He reached into his bag, grasping his baseball bat handle. He slipped the bat out of his bag before the paper reached the floor. He increased the distance between him and Onigawara, heading in the direction of Black Vinegar High School.

Oni’s throat contracted, gulping in fear. “I fucked up, didn’t I.”

82%

The boy walked down the street, his hand gripped tightly on the handle, his wrist flicking up and down, creating an unsteady beat on the pavement. He looked up, passing a fence with barbed wire on the top. The wire lit up in Shigeo’s aura, shaking on the fences. It tore itself from the top, floating down to wrap itself around the top of his bat. The aura faded away, Shigeo’s eyes laying on it intently. His arms swung up, then back down, landing it on the ground with a crack. He raised it up again, shrouding it in his aura. Lowering it again, he left a crater in the sidewalk. He exhaled briefly, and nodded in satisfaction.

He continued forward.

“To you rice bastards:

I’m going to destroy all of you today. Meet me in your courtyard after school.

-White T Poison”

“What the hell does rice bastards mean?” The boy asked. He wore a purple jacket, unbuttoned in the front.

“Maybe he meant rat bastards?”

“Man, I can’t believe that White T Poison himself is so dumb.”

Lowering the paper, the massive gang of students noticed the lone boy across the court. His head hung low, like the weight of his stress was keeping it down. He approached the thugs, his bat trailing behind him, scraping the ground.

The boys pointed at him, alarmed. “There he is! Just like he said!”

“My brother.” He growled. “Where is he?”

A wave of confused noises emitted from the kids. “Brother? Like hell we know what you’re talking about. Get him!”

Shigeo’s bat raised next to his ear, and swung for the first boy’s side. He sent him flying across the court. It stopped them for a second, giving him an opportunity to leap forward. Raising his weapon, he brought it down on someone’s shoulder, purposely missing their head. Jumping over the falling body, now writhing in pain. Leaping over the fallen student, The sole of Shigeo’s shoe connected with another student’s face. He kicked forward, launching him backwards into another few students.

Landing on the ground firmly, accompanied by his psychic powers. He stood up, circled by a swarm of kids. This was frustrating.

96%

The once intimidating swarm of kids was reduced to nothing more than a bunch of piles of kids. Some were bloodied messes, but none were left standing. Shigeo heaved, his chest going up and down.

“My brother….”

97%

“Ritsu… “

98%

“Who are you?” a slick voice said from behind him.

Shigeo turned around, and saw a blonde boy stepping over the unconscious bodies to approach him.

“Looks like you took down all these idiots.”

“Do you have my brother?”

“Brother? I wouldn't know. You must've been lured here.”

Shigeo tensed up again. He just beat up a bunch of people, and for nothing? Who had tricked him like that?

Onigawara. That damned bastard.

“I’ll be going now. My business is unsettled.”

The blonde boy’s hand slipped up to his hips, it cocking to the side. “My business isn’t over though. My pride is on the line. You’ve beat up all these dumbasses, now I’m the only one left.” “I’ve caused enough damage, I’d like to leave now.”

Teru hissed his teeth before throwing himself towards Shigeo. Swinging a punch for the boy’s face, Shigeo caught it with his bare hand, like a catcher catching a baseball. “A natural…!” The enemy’s breath hitched, and he tore himself away, pulling Shigeo forward a few steps. About a yard away, the boy crossed his legs, his knees pointing inwardly to each other. He groaned, the ground shaking underneath him. His aura glowed bright yellow, and he flung his arms up, tearing a piece of rock out of the ground.

Swinging his arms at Shigeo, the boulder flew directly at the lone intruder. Without even moving, the rock shattered, debris flying around him, none touching him. He saw a flash in the corner of his eye, and felt a hard punch connect with his cheek. Being caught off guard, he was sent flying, his neck twisting, and his body following until he landed on the ground.

Shigeo’s body was then torn off the ground, tossed feet into the air. His body felt like it was going to be crushed, before being harshly tossed onto the ground.

Being relentlessly tossed around left him no room to fight back or even defend himself. He felt like a doll, being ruthlessly played with.

It was only after he was thrown against a wall, he could get his thoughts together. His ears were ringing and he hurt all over. He didn't want it to turn out like this.

99%

Stumbling onto his feet, his hair started raising above his hairline, his eyes covered by a glow of white. His aura had a red glow too it, it flaring much more aggressively.

“Let me leave.”

100%: Frustration

“I won't let you leave. Not alive at least. The only thing you'll be leaving on is a stretcher.”

“I could crush you if I wanted to. You're pushing me over the edge.”

“Then shut your bragging. If you're that strong then prove it. Prove how strong you are!”

“There would be no point of me wasting my abilities on you. And I don't think you're ready to die.”

Glaring at him, the blonde boy launched himself for the bowlcut boy.

Raising his finger, the flying target froze. Swaying his finger and turning it over, he bend it towards him. The frozen boy was then sent into the atmosphere, his trail of screams fading with him.

Shigeo watched the figure fade away before bringing him back down. The screams got closer and louder as he reached his approaching doom.

Wind filled the boy's eyes and ears, he couldn't even hear himself screaming. The brown ground came closer into view and so did a red glow. A hand forcefully grabbed his face, saving him from death, which lied a foot down.

He yelped, in immense fear. He really stood no chance of beating Shigeo. Shigeo dropped him to the ground, earning a grunt. Floating himself so he could be back on his feet, Shigeo tossed his bat over his shoulder.

Walking away, he heard the fallen boy's voice,causing him to stop and listen. “Your name… What's your name?”

“Kageyama Shigeo.”

“Kageyama-kun…. My name is Hanazawa Teruki.”

“It was nice to meet you, Teru-kun.” He started to leave, and ignored the rest that he said.

The rain heavily fell on Shigeo, he had to go back to the school to retrieve his bag. He was very cold, but there wasn't much he could do about it until he got home. His shoes made a wet schloping sound with every step. They weren't waterproof, so his feet had gotten wet as well. It was highly uncomfortable.

Reaching home, he entered through the door, greeted by the warm atmosphere. His cold demeanor always repelled him from enjoying his life to the fullest. He took off his shoes and left them by the door.

No one was downstairs.

He went upstairs to go to his room.

“Nii-san? You're late.”

Hearing that voice made his eyes widen, a sparkle of relief showed.

“Ritsu. You're okay.” He went over to his brother who was peeking out of his room. Ritsu flinched a little. “What happened, why are you late? We were supposed to be studying.”

Shigeo pulled his younger brother into a hug, burying his face in his neck. Ritsu tensed up, then slowly hugged him back. “Are you okay…?”

“I was told you were kidnapped, I was so worried.”

Pulling away, he looked up at his brother. “I'm glad you're alright.” He turned to go to his room, leaving wet puddles behind him.

Ritsu was left staring in awe, his heart throbbing. He slid his hand across his forehead, he was slicked in sweat. He secluded himself in his room, contemplating why he got so stressed.

Shigeo slipped off his soggy socks, his soggy clothes and tossed his soggy bag to the side. He grabbed a towel off of his desk, rubbing it on his hair. He went into his bathroom to look at his face. It was riddled with small cuts, some were bleeding.

“I'll deal with it later.” He said, submerging into his room to sleep.

[ccollinsonwriting]

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For as long as I could remember, Sophia had been my best friend. 

We had met in primary school where we were fighting over the building blocks that we both wished to play with. The teachers tried their best to convince us to play together, even threatening to put us on a time out if we didn’t get along. Neither of us listened as we continued to argue over who would get to play with them and who could build the better house. In the end, we both got put on timeout outside of the principles room. 

We sat in an awkward silence, my short legs dangling from the chair, unable to touch the floor with my bumblebee shoes. My floral white dress covered the plastic green chair as I looked towards Sophia. She was slightly taller than me, yet her feet still couldn’t touch the ground while sitting in the chair. She was wearing her hair in a ponytail, small strands of loose hairs framing her chubby pink cheeks. I somehow hadn’t realised this while we were arguing, but we were wearing the same dress.

“Hi,” I managed to squeak out, catching the red-haired girls’ attention whose head was now raised to look towards me, her big brown eyes curiously observing me. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

“It’s okay. Want to play together?” She smiled brightly, whipping out a small set of bricks from her pocket which I assumed she had stolen just moments ago.

I giggled, clumsily walking towards her as we began to play.

And that is how our friendship began. 

We used to play together every day, sharing everything despite our initial unwillingness to play together and we soon became great friends. Then came secondary school. We were still best friends; however, we had been sorted into different classes due to our exam results. 

She had gotten the highest grades whereas I had barely scraped a pass. This meant that we didn’t get to see each other much, besides the occasional breaks for lunch. We were still close though, but it wasn’t the same as when we were younger. 

We went from being in all the same classes throughout the entirety of primary school to barely seeing each other in secondary. It was a big change, and I felt like I was losing my best friend; the girl who had always been there for me. She was there for me when I tripped and hurt myself, when I had my first kiss, my first heartbreak. She was there for everything, just like I was there for her too. 

But now we're falling apart. We no longer messaged each other constantly and she started hanging out with cooler, more popular girls.

I wasn’t exactly popular myself.

I was a short yet chubby dirty blonde. My hair wasn’t long and straight like the people she hangs around with now. It’s medium length and messy; I have to tie it up so that it doesn’t look like a rat’s nest as some mean girls had commented before. Her new friends wear makeup, enhancing their beauty but my mum won’t let me. She says that ‘if you have to wear makeup then you have something to hide’. I used to believe her until I noticed that everybody was wearing makeup here. 

“Hey,” A silky voice broke me from my thoughts, bringing me back to reality. 

I looked around, realising that I was sat on the cloakroom bench, surrounded by people bags and expensive coats with a book in my hand and my own bag seated next to me.

“Are you okay?” Sophia asked me, looking down at me with her wide puppy dog eyes, something that everybody loves about her. 

“I-I’m okay…” I stuttered with a small blush, my voice trailing off as I continued to speak.

“You don’t seem okay.” She smiled, dropping down onto the seat beside me before throwing her arm over my shoulders as she pulled me into her for a side hug. 

I looked up at her and began to admire her. 

Her hair was curled today yet it was still long and shiny. The redness seemed to sparkle under the bright light above us along with her eyes which only appeared bolder and more expressive now. 

“It’s nothing, Soph.” I sighed quietly, using the nickname that I had invented when we were six and running around her garden.

“Jessica!” Sophia’s high-pitched voice shrieked as I squirted her with the water which felt gigantic in my small, chubby hands.

I giggled to myself, flipping my hair back from my face, squealing as she sprayed me back with freezing cold water. 

Now it was her turn to laugh.

“Soph!” I shivered, getting ready to get my revenge by spraying her back, even if it was me that started this fight.

“I like that name.” She said, her lips now pulled up into a soft grin which I gladly returned.

“Me too…”

“Sophia!” Another voice yelled from the doorway, gaining both mine and Sophia’s attention. “You coming?” The queen bee of our school called for her, waving with such a force that I thought she might lose her arm. 

“Yeah. I’ll see you later, Jess!” She grinned, not giving me time to even say bye as she dashed off.

And that’s how it began. 

The missed calls, the ignored texts, the ‘I’m not home’. 

We began to drift apart as the weeks progressed, and then I never saw her again. 

Well that was until a few years after graduation.

I was casually browsing the frozen section of the nearest store, my fingers dancing along the freezers as I continued to look for food to buy for my new home. 

I had recently moved into an apartment away from home after being accepted into university to study psychology. I aimed to help children and adults with mental health issues and support them through their problems. 

“Jessica?” A mature female voice asked from behind me. 

I turned around, closing the door to the freezer behind me as I did so. My eyes widened as I spotted the girl in front of me.

She was tall, taller than me at least, with a mature body. Her red hair was shoulder length but still shiny, and her chocolate eyes were wide and observant. She was wearing a pair of black jeans along with a grey sweater which was to be expected; it is the middle of autumn after all. 

“Sophia?” 

“Yeah, that’s me!” Sophia grinned, hands dropping from her hips to her sides while I watched, doe-eyed as she walked towards me with sparkling eyes. “Gosh, it’s been how long?” 

“Eight years,” I said, forcing a smile.

I had long gotten over how she had completely abandoned me, moving on and making new friends who were still my friends now, but I was still petty about it.

“Look, I know you must be angry but please,” she said, seeming genuinely apologetic, “give me another chance.” Her lips were now formed into a slight frown as she begged for me to listen to her.

I didn’t give a verbal response, instead favouring a nod and away we went back to my apartment, my trolley filled with food being long forgotten.

The night was spent on my couch with us watching bad chick flicks and catching up. She explained how she was genuinely sorry, still feeling bad to this day and telling me that her friends were convincing her bad things about me which she had, unfortunately, believed. I forgave her immediately. I just wanted my best friend back. 

And I got her. After all these years, we were together again.

[ecotone99]

[MF] Flightless

“Clarise,” said the pigeon, peering down from the shimmering aspen trees.

She looked up. Yellow leaves fell all around her. Up above, gray clouds lined the sky.

The pigeon nodded at her. Its neck feathers gleamed violet and green.

“Remember your way home,” it said in her mother’s voice.

It flew away, hobbling through the air on crooked wings.

She walked out of the forest into the lights of Pelterridge City. Far behind her, the stick figure of her mom waved goodbye, red scarf dancing in the air.

***

It never snowed in winter. Dad set up a giant Christmas tree in the cluttered living room, beside the battered beige sofa. It was a plastic one, with an overwhelming scent of fake pine needles.

“I’m Arrick,” her stepbrother stood up and smiled uncertainly. “Um… I’m in eighth grade, and…”

He trailed off and settled for simply smiling.

“Clarise. Going to sixth grade.”

She had met her dad’s new wife several times before, but this was her first time meeting her stepbrother.

The pine needle smell was getting to her head. She sat down on the couch.

“Welcome,” Eliza Whitman, her stepmother, beamed like a lighthouse.

“Thanks,” she said.

It was December 24. Clarise didn’t know why she had to leave her real mother behind on Christmas Eve.

Her new house -- not home -- was on the fourth floor of the dingy Nelson-Eldridge Commons. It was clean, and the electricity and internet worked. But there seemed to be a clear divide between her, a Jovell, and Arrick and Elizabeth Whitman.

Her father was a Jovell too, but he had betrayed Mom and married this smiling red-haired woman instead.

She wanted to go to her real home. It was a dingier place in L.A., in the filthy apartments where electricity barely worked. It was occupied by a woman who made money by cleaning the machines at the laundromat and waitressing at bars. But the woman was her mother, and that counted more than anything else.

“Here’s for you,” Arrick muttered and shoved a wrapped cylinder at her.

“I don’t have any presents for you,” Clarise said, fidgeting with her fingers.

“It’s completely fine,” Eliza said. She had a papery smile on. “Christmas is time for family after all.”

Clarise thought that was a perfectly hypocritical thing for Eliza to say. She tore open the gaudy green wrapping paper. It was a pine needle scented candle. The smell made Clarise a bit dizzy.

***

On January 6, drizzle fell in a thin veil. Clarise stepped in the shallow puddles on the way to school, water rippling out away from her yellow rain boots. The storefronts on Cadlet Way were awakening. Warm light glowed from the bakery, candle store, and the records shop.

Winter break didn’t last forever. Eliza tried and failed to make conversation. Arrick stayed in his room all day, and Clarise avoided talking to Dad. Mom called twice, but they couldn’t find anything to say when they weren’t face-to-face.

Clarise took a turn at Kelsey Avenue. School loomed into view.

Telephone lines cut into the gray sky. Dandelion flowers bloomed, yellow among the dewy grass. Pelterridge Hills Elementary School stood like a stack of abandoned wooden blocks.

The attendance lady in the office impatiently told her that her classroom was 22B. Her teacher was Miss Hudson.

The classroom’s walls were decorated with a parade of art projects, almost all of them bright and falling apart. Clarise took her seat near the back of the classroom.

A short, pale boy stepped in seconds after the bell. He had fair hair, gray eyes, and freckles on his nose.

“You’re late again, Wilbert,” Miss Hudson said, adjusting her horn-rimmed glasses.

The boy grinned.

“Late again, Will Clown?” The boys at Table 1 jeered. He shrugged.

“He’s weird,” a dark-haired girl nudged Clarise. “Nobody likes him. He’s so edgy. See his shoelaces?”

They were bright yellow. They looked okay, but of course Clarise didn’t say so.

Will Clown grinned at everyone. She couldn’t figure out why nobody liked him. She also couldn’t help but smile back.

***

“You’re Claire?” Will asked, standing beside the slide that Clarise was sitting on.

“Clarise. You’re Will Clown?”

She wondered if they could be friends.

“Wilbert Clayden, technically,” he said, stumbling over the last word. “Everybody calls me Will Clown though. You can do that too. Friends?”

“Deal.”

The bell clattered, signaling the end of lunch.

Clarise and Will Clown walked home together after school.

“I want to dye my hair,” Clarise said as they passed by Newer Days Saloon, with its neon sign glowing faintly under the cloudy sky.

It would cost twenty dollars. She could scrape that up from her piggy bank.

“What color?” Will asked, eyes glinting excitedly. “We can be punks, you know.”

“Punks?”

“Going against society,” Will whistled, already caught up in his own idea. “There are those really cool people on Kaster Street. They skate and listen to punk rock. Everyone thinks they’re cool.”

“Nice. I don’t know what color I’m going to dye my hair yet.”

“White. It’ll look epic,” he said and waved goodbye to Clarise.

At not-home, Arrick was sprawled on the sofa, entranced by the television.

***

Pale bluish silver and bright crimson. The colors tipped her black hair, a mess of clashing, clamoring hues. Clarise liked how the crimson almost mirrored her mother’s treasured scarf.

“You really did it?” Will Clown grinned, wide-eyed with excitement. “Damn.”

Clarise giggled. It was five pm, and the storefronts on Cadlet Way glowed in the setting sun. The sun laid out her shadow and Will Clown’s upon the wall next to the saloon. They were dark, a witch and a short scarecrow standing side by side.

“Do you think they’d say anything at school?” Clarise twirled a strand of silver hair around her index finger and squinted against the sky.

“Nah,” Will shrugged. “Listen carefully, Clarise Jovell, because I won’t say this again.”

He tried to continue but started giggling instead.

“What?”

“Rule number one of being punk,” he finally caught his breath, “is to not give a -- a fu -- fuck about what others think.”

He smiled, proud of saying his real swear word. “We’re gonna be like these kids on Kaster Street, Clarise. You know, these cool kids? Except we won’t make fun of other people.”

She nodded. A breeze blew strands of hair across her face. Against the sun, they made a chaotic whirlwind of black and red and gray. Chaotic in a good way.

“Eliza says I have to be home by five. I have to go.”

“Me too. See ya tomorrow,” Will picked up his blue bicycle that was carelessly abandoned on the sidewalk. He rode away in the middle of the carless road, a reckless figure rapidly shrinking.

“See you.”

She walked down Cadlet Way, the backpack suddenly too heavy on her shoulders. Her red Converse shoes felt a tiny bit too tight. Unidentifiable scents drifted from the candle store window.

At the end of the street, Nelson-Eldridge Commons seemed like a prison unit. Five-story houses, dirty white walls, barred windows along the gray staircase. Pigeons perched on the laundry lines that extended from one third-story window to another. They stared at her among the ripped jeans, tie-dye T-shirts, and mustard-yellow baby socks.

Welcome to not-home, they cooed to her.

She wanted to pick up a stone and throw it at them. She wanted to feed them bread crumbs from breakfast.

Instead, she ignored them and walked up the gray stairs stained with graffiti and stark white bird droppings. She knocked on the fourth-floor door anxiously. A tiny hiss of television sounds and conversation seeped through the keyhole.

“Where --,” her stepmother flung open the door. “Hang on, what did you do to your hair?”

“I dyed it,” Clarise looked at Eliza’s chin, not meeting her eyes.

“God, you’re only thirteen,” Eliza stared at her. “Did we give you permission to dye your hair?”

“Let the girl in,” Dad called loudly from the kitchen, followed by a flutter of newspapers.

Eliza stepped out of the doorway, lines of disapproval between her flawlessly penciled eyebrows. Clarise dumped the backpack on the beige couch beside Arrick. Her eyes stung a bit. Arrick looked up from the TV.

“By golly, Clarise, you’re in some damn serious trouble,” he said.

“Watch your language,” Eliza crossed her arms, leaning against the shoe rack. “Clarise, if you’re going to make a big decision like dying your hair that atrocious color, you have to ask us first.”

“Why?” She was exhausted all of a sudden. She could have sworn that the house was poisonous and sapping all the energy out of her.

“Why?” Her stepmother repeated incredulously. Her hands gesticulated wildly in the air. Then she suddenly deflated. “Jonathan, you’re her father. You talk to her about this.”

“Alright,” her dad put down the newspapers on the kitchen table. “Clarise, we’re your parents whether you like it or not. Until you become an adult you’ll be living with us. We want what’s best for you, really.”

He rubbed his temple. Unspoken words hung in the air like laundry.

“You aren’t even my real mom.” The words escaped without Clarise’s control. Eliza froze.

“What did you say?” Dad glared at her, all the patience gone from his voice. “Apologize to her right now, Clarise Jovell.”

Arrick turned off the TV.

“But it’s true! She’s not my mom.”

The world was spinning around Clarise. She didn’t owe Eliza Whitman any apology. If anything, Eliza owed her for stealing her dad away from her real mom. And Eliza had no right to control Clarise’s hair, especially since Clarise had only been living with her for two weeks.

“Go back to your room,” Dad’s voice was deadly quiet.

“But --”

“I said go back,” he stood up. The air buzzed like a hornet’s nest.

Clarise grabbed her backpack and spun around without saying another word. She walked to her room and locked the door behind her. She didn’t slam the door -- her dad wanted her to lose her temper so that he could yell, and she won’t do that. She closed it silently.

The tears came then. They blurred her eyes and temporarily obscured the mess of unpacked boxes in the middle of the room. Outside, two voices raised.

She felt like a tied-down bird here, flightless.

A pigeon was perched on her windowsill among the dying succulents. It peered at her and cooed.

“Go away,” she whispered, wondering if her eyes were as red as the crimson parts of her hair.

Pigeon wings whistled through the chilly December air. A feather fell down, spinning, dyed gold by the setting sun.

***

Clarise had exactly $31.52 hidden in her sock drawer. At midnight, her digital alarm clock glared red numbers. She checked her backpack one more time. There was the money, some clothes, some food and water, and a detailed map of Southern California.

She was going to find her real mom at the apartment by the laundromat.

The front door groaned as Clarise pushed it open. A dog barked somewhere far away. It was freezing outside. Clarise layered on her sweater and two jackets. She could still feel the cold.

Her mom’s laundromat was exactly 23.4 miles south of Pelterridge City. But she was going to get there, and then she’d be home, and she won’t have to deal with Eliza Whitman, who was yelling at her already after two weeks.

She’d miss Will Clown though. She had a friend for two days.

The city bus rolled around the corner. For Clarise, t was a simple matter of standing on the tip of her toes and keeping her face in the dark. The driver, sluggish from exhaustion, didn’t look twice at her and didn’t know that she was only twelve.

Outside, Pelterridge City might as well have been dead. Neon signs glowed from storefronts, but there was no life on the streets besides blackbirds and pigeons.

The bus roamed the highway. There were two other passengers, both half-asleep under the dim blue light.

Clarise wondered if Will Clown was asleep at home, if Eliza and Arrick and Dad were asleep, if any of them would care that she was gone. The blue light winked at her and cast her ghostly reflection on the smudged, foggy window.

Her eyelids were weighed down. The bus rode over bumps, and soon Clarise heard the clamor of traffic. A green sign was visible in the night. Downtown LA, 5.2 MI.

She was around 5.2 miles away from her mom.

***

She found her mom’s laundromat fifty steps from the bus stop, sidewalk lined with cars and leaves and litter. The lights were bright inside, brilliantly blue, and the washing machine stood in soldier-like rows.

The address was 201 Sheller Way. She walked up a flight of gray stairs disturbingly similar to the one at not-home and arrived on the second floor. Two doors stood beside her, peeling. An orange light bulb flickered overhead.

Clarise knocked on 201. She waited.

From the telephone lines down the street, there came a flutter of pigeon wings. The door creaked open.

A woman stood in the doorway. Her wet black hair was wrapped in a towel, and there were remains of eyeliner under her eyelashes. She blinked.

“Clarise,” she said. Her eyes suddenly shone too brightly under the flickering orange light. “Come in.”

Her arms wrapped around Clarise’s narrow shoulders. Her hair smelled like soap, and there was cinnamon on her breath. There were tears budding in both of their eyes.

They sat on the tattered brown couch, Clarise and her mother. The room was illuminated by a yellow light, coins under furnitures, newspaper stuffed into corners.

“Your hair looks beautiful.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Clarise, I love you. I’m sorry I can’t take care of you. Eliza Whitman is a good woman, you know that?”

She didn’t know that, in fact.

“Yes.”

Clarise looked around. She must have inherited her mom’s talent for killing houseplants.

“Your dad told me you’re missing,” her mother went on, pushing wet hair out of her eyes.

“I love you.”

***

At three am, Jonathan Jovell and Clarise’s mother hugged. Then Jonathan ushered Clarise into a shiny red car. He drove home along the highway in silence.

Arrick’s door opened a crack at home.

“Your stepmother is worried sick, you know,” he whispered, somehow not sounding accusing.

“She cares about you,” Dad added quietly, then walked into the living room.

“I’m going back to sleep,” said Arrick, closing the door.

Then Eliza Whitman came out of her bedroom, wet hair and smudged makeup, red underneath her eyes. Clarise stood in the hallway. They stared at each other without a word. Eliza wrapped her arms around Clarise. She smelled of gingerbread instead of cinnamon, but that was good enough.

***

It was cold, but green spring was budding on the aspen trees along Cadiz Creek.

“Come on,” urged Will Clown, sprinting ahead of Clarise. She adjusted her scarf and followed. It was red and white, half knitted by her mother and half by Elizabeth Whitman.

“Slow down,” she said. The creek flashed a few feet ahead, the water rushing silver and faint blue. She caught up with Will at the water’s edge, among the leaves that hadn’t quite decayed in the winter’s cold.

“Ever fished before, Clarise?”

“No.”

Will grinned and handed her a fishing pole. “Firsts.”

The air was colder over the creek. Clarise sat down on a mossy rock and waited as Will fumbled in his backpack for baits. Warblers whistled in the air. There was the cooing of a pigeon or two, and it soothed her.

She sat with Will Clown by the creek, cold air blowing in their face, as the clouds overhead cleared and blue seeped out. A fish tugged on her pole, bending it slightly. She hesitated for a second, heart pounding with excitement and fear that water will splash all over her pale blue sweater. Then she spun the reel.

The fish was small, not much longer than her palm. It flopped, iridescent silver.

“Not fair,” said Will Clown.

Clarise laughed in reply. The sun came out behind the clouds, and the air didn’t feel so cold anymore.

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