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kookiebunnii · 5 years ago

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d4u || fix his broken heart

mar. 2018. i realized today that i can’t always make jungkook happy. he has his own struggles too, and perhaps as a friend i can only ever stay beside him when he’s heartbroken. yet, i’m unsatisfied with that realization. i wish i could do more for him.

pairing: bestfriend!jungkook x reader

genre: angst

word count: 1.7k

warnings: mayhaps you use a bad word 👀

The first time you realized you loved him was also the first time you ever saw him cry.

Jungkook liked to be your resident tough guy. He always forced you to watch horror movies with him late at night simply because he liked remaining unperturbed as you shook in terror, him laughing whenever you covered your eyes in anticipation for the jumpscare as soon as the music cuts out. You knew well enough after years of this torture that dolls, children, and cheap housing signaled big demon energy. However, despite sitting through more horror flicks than the average person, you still keep your lamp light on for a good three nights afterwards—just in case. Jungkook loved teasing you with this information, but you were more concerned about the possibility that your best friend-turned-roommate was a demon himself. How else would he be able to watch nightmarish Annabelle movies without even flinching?

As hard-working and aspiring as he is, he also never breaks down when he misses a goal he’s set for himself. You’ve seen him shattered for underperforming in a class he was confident in, angry for not winning an important game on the university’s competitive e-sports team, and even depressed for a whole week after the audio file for one of his song covers vanished.

Not once did he shed tears.

Imagine your surprise then, when you find him sitting on the couch one afternoon with red-rimmed eyes and two empty beer cans on the table.

You don’t say anything at first. Gritting your teeth in anticipation of the unknown, you head into your room as if it were a regular day, hanging your tote bag on a hook near the door. Robotically, you wash your hands and tie up your hair in the bathroom. When you finish, you head back out to the living room again to confront him.

When you pick up the half-empty can hanging lifelessly in his hand, he doesn’t even look at you. Even when you chug down the remaining drink and chuck it in the recycling bin, he doesn’t acknowledge you. It’s only when you sit by his side, leaning your head against his shoulder to join him in staring at the wall, do the first words fall from his lips.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?”

You press your tongue to the roof of your mouth, considering the light taste of beer that lingers there. Beer wasn’t your thing, but you had to stop him from drinking so much.

“No. You’ll tell me when you’re ready,” you admit, pressing your cheek deeper into his oddly comfortable shoulder-- a given due to how diligently he works out recently. You can’t remember the last time you were this close to him, with the smell of his detergent so tantalizingly perceptible. It’s familiar in the way that you recognize it immediately as him, but foreign in that it’s rarely this upfront against your senses. He’s radiantly warm, but his frame is shaking as he tries to hold in his cold sadness.

With a shaky breath, he fiddles with the zipper of his windbreaker for a few seconds before choking, “Yuna’s been cheating on me.”

Eyes wide, the words catch in your throat. It almost feels as if your heart has fallen to the pit of your stomach at his confession. Cycling through confusion, anger, and hurt, all you can do is swallow thickly to counter the tightness growing in your throat. You wanted to cry, yet you felt selfish for wanting to do so. The pain you felt probably paled in comparison to what Jungkook’s experiencing. You knew that she was his first love, and when the kid loved he loved.

A cold laugh expels out of your mouth in response to the absurdity of it all, and suddenly everything made sense. Of course the only way such a happy-go-lucky boy can be reduced to a tearful shell of himself is from the inside—from someone he trusted who ruined him. You think you hate Yuna, but you hate yourself more for being unable to do anything for him.

“Guk, that’s her fucking loss then.”

The words fall from your lips, heavy and full of spite. They taste bitter, and suddenly you wish you hadn’t finished that beer. Everything felt so wrong, the boy who deserved the world had his heart trampled on and you were stuck as the girl who couldn’t mend it for him. When he finally lets the dam break and begins crying again, the small sobs that wrack his chest almost splinter you in two. He tries to hide his face from you, and you instinctively reach out towards him. You hold him around his waist as he cries, your face buried in his left shoulder. Unwilling to speak further, you do the only thing you know how to. You wait for him.

It’s late in the evening when Jungkook finally talks to you again. He seems exhausted, his cheek pressing against the top of your head in defeat. With your chin perched on his shoulder, you bite your lip in contemplation. Plans form in your head, but you don’t ask for Jungkook’s input on them. You needed Yuna to know how disgustingly vile she was for choosing this avenue instead of simply ending things with him, because you were sure as hell Jungkook didn’t make it clear for her.

“Y/N?” his soft inquiry breaks you out of your thoughts.

Doing a little drumroll on his thigh with your pointer fingers, you hum in response, “Yeah?”

“Do you think she loved me?”

The question catches you off-guard. Yuna had been his first girlfriend, and he spent a lot more time away from the apartment after meeting her. You still saw him frequently enough, and from your experiences with her she genuinely appeared to enjoy Jungkook’s company. She did occasionally give him a hard time for living with you, but other than that the two of you respected the other as important figures of Jungkook’s life.

“She did. She loved you,” you admitted. Perhaps her love paled in comparison to the natural, compassionate affection he gave her, but you knew well-enough that anyone could tell the two had shared a mutual affinity for the other. You wonder if your answer was the one he wanted.

He seems to mull over this idea, his fingers wearing at a loose thread on the rips of his jeans. As he does this, you brush some of his hair away from his forehead. A few strands were stuck to his forehead dejectedly. His eyes are puffy with the amount of crying he’d done today and it takes you an extraordinary amount of willpower not to find Yuna and give her a piece of your mind then and there.

“I’m not okay,” he admits, and you can’t help but lift up his face to look at you directly.

“You don’t have to be.”

That night, he doesn’t want to sleep alone. He tugs at your wrist with an unspoken question and you knew you would stay with him until he could fall asleep. That was the type of relationship you held with him, knowing what the other needed before having to ask.

As you tuck him in bed, you turn off the lights except for a single desk lamp near his computer on the lowest brightness setting. You open the textbook for your Introduction to Marketing class and begin to read the latest chapter. Occasionally, you glance over at Jungkook to see how he’s faring. Thirty minutes pass and he’s still staring at the same spot on the ceiling.

“Can’t sleep?” you set your book down and ease off his gaming chair. Doing a few stretches as you approach the side of his bed, you plop down on the corner of the mattress and pinch his nose.

He grabs your hand off his nose and pulls you closer to him. Surprised but not uncomfortable, you let him guide your arm across his chest in an awkward half-hug. A dejected sigh comes from the poor boy, and you change your position to hold him better. You’re still laying atop his blankets, but you lie on your side and begin running your fingers through the locks of hair closest to you. He finally closes his eyes at your touch, and you wish you could smooth out the frowning corners of his lips.

Maybe the two of you were never actively aware of it, or even considered telling the other you loved them, but in that moment the words blossomed across your tongue. You wanted him to know that you loved him after all these years of watching him grow from a mischievous boy to a responsible man. You wanted him to know that it wasn’t his fault—that he couldn’t have done anything different to change the outcome. You wanted him to know that he deserved so much more than this.

You couldn’t say it though. Why couldn’t you say it?

In the midst of your thoughts, you fingers had stopped their ministrations in his hair. Jungkook takes note of this and turns to look you in the eyes. His cheeks are splotchy, the rims of his overworked eyes swollen from the abuse they’ve endured today. Even then, you couldn’t say those words.

“Thank you Y/N,” he gives you a smile he can barely muster, and you know he’s doing it to cheer you up.

You close your own eyes so you don’t have to look at his face any longer. It made you feel utterly useless and weak with swirling emotions you couldn’t pinpoint. It confused you and you hated feeling out of control.

If he kept caring for you, even while he suffered, you felt like you would say something…do something you shouldn’t.

You slip your hand under the blankets to grab his. When he gives your hand a squeeze, you know he believes that you’re doing this to comfort him. Instead, you know that you’re being selfish, holding onto him to ground yourself from doing something you couldn’t be responsible for.

Damn, you really are a fool.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

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crystalninjaphoenix · 5 years ago

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Nevermore

A Stitched Story

JSE Fanfic

It’s been a long while since the last part, hasn’t it? And even later, since I don’t usually post fics in the middle of the week. I have an excuse for the latter, I was too sick to do anything except lay down all weekend. But as for the former, I’ve just hit writer’s block, basically. But I finally got it done! I think I had trouble cause there are a couple important reveals in this chapter :3c And since it’s been a while and you could be confused, I suggest reading at least the last two stories before this one, but hopefully you enjoy anyway!

Tagging @septic-dr-schneep for inspiring this AU with this post.

Read where it started: Stitched Together | Season One

Previous season two stories: No Strings on Me | Nightmare World | Normalcy | The Notion of The End | Nobody’s Home

A week passed before Jack finally got up the nerve to talk to JJ again. Well at least, talk to him about more serious matters. He didn’t know why he was so nervous about it. Maybe he’d just been busy. After all, things had been different ever since Marvin and Jackie...returned. The apartment felt crowded with six people inside its walls.

Jack woke up that morning, got ready, and immediately started down the hall. Or, not immediately. He had to be quiet, and thus careful. With the lack of sleeping areas in the apartment, Schneep had recently started crashing in Jack’s room. And Schneep didn’t fall asleep easily anymore, so Jack was careful not to disturb him when he was.

He followed the sound of a voice talking down the hall to the living room, peeking his head inside. Everyone else was in here. JJ was sitting in the armchair, reading over one of the magic books. Chase was on the couch, with Jackie on his left and Marvin on his right. He was scrolling through his phone and talking animatedly. “And this is you two when you first moved into your apartment—oh sorry, ‘flat’ as you called it. Ha...you kept correcting me. See, there are all the boxes?” As usual, neither Marvin nor Jackie responded much to hearing this. It was...still kind of creepy, the way they were just staring.

Jack cleared his throat, and Chase looked up at him. “Hey, bro. Good morning, how you doing?”

“Good, I guess.” Jack shrugged. “Um...I wanted to talk to JJ.”

Jameson looked up at that. Catching sight of Jack’s expression, his eyes widened.

“Oh, yeah, sure. Uh, sorry about this.” Chase put his phone in his hoodie pocket. “I just figured that...you know, maybe it was like Gravity Falls or something and I had to jog their memories.”

“Good idea. How’s it going?”

“Uh...” Chase pursed his lips. “Well, I mean...y’know what, maybe it would be better if I worked with one of them at a time. We can give you the room?”

“If you want, yeah.”

“Great.” Chase stood up. “C’mon, bro.” He grabbed Jackie by the hand, pulling him upright as well. And with only a little tugging, he guided him out of the room and into the kitchen.

Jack sat down on the couch, in the now-vacated spot. Jameson sat up straight and closed his book. What is it? he asked.

“Well, uh...” Jack cleared his throat again. “So...you’re the magic man, right?”

Apart from him, yes. JJ indicated Marvin, who was still sitting nearby, expression as blank as ever.

“Well...yeah, but he’s not...” Jack trailed off. He waved his hand in front of Marvin’s eyes, getting nothing. “You both have magic, though, right?”

Yes, but there is a difference, JJ explained. From what you’ve said about him, Marvin was born with magic. I’m still unsure where mine came from, but I certainly didn’t have it my whole life.

Jack nodded. “I see.” He shifted in his seat. “So my point is...if something weird’s been going on, would you be able to...I don’t know, explain it?”

JJ leaned forward. I could try. What “something weird”?

“Okay. So.” Jack exhaled. “Something’s been going on with me for...a while now. Since we got Chase back, and that’s a couple months ago now, isn’t it?”

JJ said nothing, just gestured for him to continue.

“This is gonna sound completely insane, but...sometimes I see things,” Jack finally said. “That aren’t there, I mean. And that I’ve never seen before, and that nobody else sees.” There. It was out, after all this time.

JJ looked intrigued, and also slightly worried. What kind of things?

“Well, they’re...lights. Inside of people. I can only see them when I close my left eye, but they’re there. All different colors, too.” As if demonstrating, Jack closed his eye, looking downward, where he could now see a ball of green light glowing inside his chest. After a brief moment, he looked up with both eyes again. “Sometimes they’re different. Chase’s has these weird...I don’t know, groove things, like impressions. And yours has tiny circles around it, like sparks, if sparks were donut shaped.”

That’s...unusual. JJ’s hands stilled as he thought through his next words. You don’t have any idea what it could be?

“I mean, kinda.” Jack shifted again. “I think...maybe it’s something to do with people’s souls?”

JJ seemed to sharpen. You think you’re seeing souls? That’s impossible.

“It is?”

Completely! JJ emphasized. I’ve never heard of anyone with magic, learned or born with, that can see souls with the naked eye. He paused. Wait. Didn’t you say that it was only in your right eye?

“Yeah.” Jack nodded. “Why, what’s that got to do with anything?”

JJ leaned back again. He looked...completely awestruck. Disbelieving.

“What? What is it?” Jack asked insistently.

Jack...JJ signed slowly. You do realize...that’s not your eye, right?

“What?!” Jack’s hand flew to his face, feeling his right eye under the lid. “How can it not be mine?!”

Because Anti took it, remember? JJ signed gently. It’s not the one you’ve always had. I had to...replace it.

It took a moment for Jack to process the entire statement, his train of thought momentarily hijacked by memories of October before he pushed it back on track. “So...you’re saying it’s your freaky magic that’s the reason I can see shit like this now? How’d you do that?!”

I don’t know! JJ threw his hands in the air. I just remember wanting you to see again!

“Well, I can see, alright. I can see a whole bunch that’s apparently new to the whole magical world!” Jack ran his hands through his hair. “Jesus...and you have no idea what happened?”

JJ shook his head. Maybe the magic took the command to “see�� a bit farther than intended?

“Maybe.” Jack leaned back into the couch cushions. “Holy shit, dude, how do you not know how your magic works? Doesn’t it, like, belong to you?”

JJ hesitated, then shrugged uncertainly. I don’t believe it’s normal magic. All of us are diving into realms of the strange that are rarely explored, if at all. He paused. Like, for example. Did you know Henrik has magic, too?

Jack stared blankly at JJ for a solid thirty seconds. “I’m sorry, what?!” That statement just—just didn’t compute. Schneep was the logical mind, the one who remained stubbornly skeptical for the longest time. How could he have magic?

I don’t think he realizes, JJ said. But...last week. The two of us were stuck in a room in Anti’s lair, the door locked. And then he stepped toward it and it just...it was like the world was sliced up and put back together in a different way. And suddenly we were on the other side.

“And you saw this?!” Jack said incredulously. “And he didn’t?! I mean, of course he didn’t see it, but he didn’t realize? And you haven’t told him?!”

JJ ducked his head. Well...it’s a fairly long story to tell via Morse code.

Ah. “Well, tell him anyway! No matter how long it takes, he should probably know about that.” Jack sighed. “How on earth did he get magic?”

I’m unsure, JJ admitted. Maybe something similar happened to him as to what happened to me.

“But you don’t know what caused that, either.”

No, I don’t. For a moment, the two of them sat in silence. And then JJ continued. But back to your main point, why are you telling me about your ability now? Did you just think it was worth knowing?

“I mean, yeah, but also...” Jack pursed his lips. He glanced to his side, where Marvin was sitting. The whole conversation hadn’t elicited as much as a glance from him. “We were talking...last week, about that transference spell. You said it had to do with souls?”

JJ nodded. Why, do you think your ability could come in handy?

“Yeah, in figuring out what happened,” Jack finished. “You know what I saw when I activated this soul vision while looking at...him? I saw that green string, the one we now have in the kitchen. And it was holding a...a bunch of red and blue...light...shards. Like, stitching them together.” That sounded strange, but it was the most accurate way he could think to describe it. “I was wondering if...I-I don’t know. That would be helpful to know.”

It would, JJ said, intrigued. Odd...if you see most souls as lights, I’m guessing that’s a most unusual spell. Perhaps the side effect of the transference?

“Maybe.” Jack squirmed in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable. He stood up. “Well...good talk.”

JJ looked mildly surprised, but quickly hid it. Yes, it was. If you figure anything else out about your vision, or see anything unusual, could you tell me?

“I will,” Jack promised. “I’m...I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” And without another word, he left.

He wasn’t sure what made him leave. Just that...he didn’t like talking about that black magic transference spell. And he didn’t know why.

He’d considered using his soul vision to look at Jackie and Marvin, to see if something was wrong with them there. But...thinking about it filled him with an uneasy dread. Like he was afraid of what he would see.

— — — — — — —

“Okay, you have to remember this one,” Chase said, once more scrolling through pictures on his phone. “This was that time I asked you to come over and watch the girls. Remember them? Anyway, you tried to bake chocolate chip cookies without the recipe, and it all ran together into one big, flimsy, super-chocolatey pastry thing that took up the entire pan.” Chase laughed. “Moira really liked it, but I think Lily was just glad she helped.”

Jackie, sitting next to Chase at the kitchen table, didn’t move at all. He was looking at the phone, but that was only because Chase had forcibly moved his head to look at it. His expression might as well have been carved from stone, and there was absolutely no recognition on it.

“Ooookay.” Chase sighed. This was getting nowhere and he knew it. But who knew? Maybe on the seventy billionth try there would be something. “Let’s try something else, then. Um...”

Turned out, he didn’t have to wait that long.

He turned his attention to the phone’s photo gallery for a bit, looking for something good. When he looked up again, he visibly jumped. Jackie was staring right at him. He had most definitely not been doing that before, and he was still silent, but...he must have moved to look. “H-hey, dude.” Chase gave a lopsided smile. “What’s up?”

Jackie didn’t answer. But after a few seconds, he tilted his head to the side, like he was considering something.

At that moment, Jack walked past the kitchen doorway. “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Oh, uh, great, I—” Chase started to say something, but Jack walked right past without waiting for an answer. “Oh. Okay, you do that then.”

Something grabbed his wrist.

Chase yelped, instinctively trying to pull away but finding the grip too tight. He looked down to see Jackie’s hand wrapped around wrist, right on top of his wristband. Looking back up, he saw that Jackie’s expression hadn’t changed at all. He swallowed, suddenly on edge. “Hey, Jackie. So, uh, a lot of things have changed since you last saw me—before this last week, I mean. One being that I would prefer if you didn’t touch me. And especially—” He looked back down, starting to pry at Jackie’s fingers gripping his wrist. “—especially not there.”

Jackie didn’t react as Chase pried away his fingers and pushed his hand away. He just kept...staring at Chase. There was...something in his eyes. Which would’ve been great, if that something wasn’t making shivers crawl along Chase’s skin. It felt like...like him. But that was impossible. This was Jackie, who was still his friend, even if so much had happened to the both of them.

Then something crashed in the living room, shattering the moment.

“What the...?” Chase stood up, crossing into the hall and leaving Jackie behind. He entered the living room. “Did something fall in—” And then he froze. And screamed.

The standing lamp had fallen over, causing the crash, but that wasn’t what concerned him. No, it was JJ. He was lying on the ground, on his back, and Marvin...Marvin was kneeling on his chest, hands wrapped around his throat and clearly squeezing. Jameson was thrashing as much as he was able, and clawing at the hands around his neck.

Chase leapt into action. “Marvin, no!” He shouted, lunging towards the pair and trying to pull Marvin’s arms away. But Marvin’s grip was furiously tight, a contrast to the still blank expression on his face. But...there was something in his eyes that Chase wasn’t sure he wanted to identify.

“What’s going—holy fuck!” Suddenly Jack was by Chase’s side, helping to pull Marvin away. Between their efforts, they finally managed to separate the two others. Jameson immediately scrambled away from Marvin, pressing his back against the nearest wall and breathing heavily.

Jack wrapped his arms around Marvin, holding him back. Though it seemed that, once Marvin was pulled away, he’d lost all interest in strangling Jameson. Jack looked at Chase. “What happened? I left for two seconds!”

Chase shook his head, baffled. “I don’t know. I heard a crash, and went to check it out, and they were like this!” He looked at Jameson. “Jays, what happened?”

Jameson didn’t respond for a while, getting his breathing under control and rubbing at the sore spots on his neck. After a while, he signed shakily, He started staring at me the moment you left. And then he attacked me! No warning at all!

“What?! That’s insane!” Jack looked at Marvin warily, as if searching for some sign that he was ready to attack at any minute. “Why would he do that?”

JJ only shook his head, baffled.

And in that brief moment of silence, there was a dull thud from the kitchen.

“Oh, now what?” Chase groaned. He reached down and quickly pulled JJ to his feet before going back into the kitchen to check out the sound.

He walked back in to see Jackie now standing by the counter. Chase briefly glanced down to see a plastic box had fallen to the ground, as if pushed carelessly. Then he looked back up to see Jackie holding something. It took him a moment to recognize it as the glass mason jar that was containing that strange, almost alive, green string that Jack had pulled away from Anti. And then it took him a moment more to realize Jackie was trying to unscrew the lid.

“What are you doing?!” He lunged forward, closing the distance in a short time. Jackie put up no resistance as Chase yanked the jar out of his hands. The lid was looser, but not off. And the string inside was writhing furiously and slamming against the glass with enough force to jolt the jar, even as he was holding tight to it.

JJ appeared in the kitchen doorway, leaning heavily on the doorframe. His ankle still wasn’t healed, it must’ve been difficult to even walk that far. What’s happening?

“I...I don’t know.” Chase found himself taking a few steps away from Jackie, who just stood there. “He was...trying to open the jar? You know, the one with this string inside.” He held the jar up.

JJ tilted his head. The string wasn’t...acting like that before, was it?

“I don’t think so.” Chase looked at Jackie. “What’s the matter with you? A week of nothing, and then you suddenly decide to...interact with this, of all things? Are you and Marvin trying to freak us out?!”

Jack poked his head in the doorway. “You guys okay?”

Chase shook his head. “I guess? I-I don’t know. Jackie was trying to get to the string.” He suddenly scowled. “And by the way, what even is this thing? Where did it come from? Why is it alive, or some shit?”

Jack paused. “Well...it could be part of Anti’s soul, or something like that?” He didn’t sound too certain.

“Oh great, and we’re keeping it in a jam jar. Don’t you have a safe or something?”

Jack just shook his head.

You have a point, JJ signed. This thing appears to be...more dangerous than we initially thought. Perhaps we could find some way to keep it safe.

“Or get rid of it altogether,” Chase suggested, glancing at Jackie.

Or that, JJ nodded.

Footsteps sounded down the hall, and suddenly Schneep appeared, hair disheveled and wearing the same outfit he’d worn the previous day. “What is all the yelling?” he asked, scowling.

Jack winced. “Sorry, Hen. We just...some stuff happened.”

“What stuff?” Schneep demanded. “I was sleeping!”

“Uh...y-yeah, I...I know,” Jack shifted, folding his arms and curling inward guiltily. “Let’s...sit down and I’ll tell you.”

Schneep grumbled, but turned and headed towards the living room, gesturing for Jack to follow him, which he did. After the two of them left, Chase sighed. He looked at JJ and held up the jar, as if asking what to do with it.

JJ shrugged. Seems like it needs to be kept somewhere more secure.

“Yeah, no doubt. Not a lot of secure places in this apartment, though.”

They ended up placing the jar back inside the plastic box, but then put that box inside one of the cabinets under the counter. And they were so busy talking about whether or not that was safe enough, that they didn’t notice the way Jackie’s eyes tracked their movements, following the string to its new hiding place.

— — — — — — —

Later that night, Chase found he was having trouble sleeping. Again. It was a new development, ever since he...came back, those few months ago. He suspected it had something to do with not knowing it was...acceptable to fall asleep, without someone saying so. He’d been doing well over the last month or so, but for whatever reason insomnia decided to return this night.

He sighed, and got up. Maybe a walk around the apartment would calm him down. Though he’d have to be as silent as possible, wouldn’t want to wake up the others.

He made his way down the hall, towards the living room and kitchen. And then he saw something move in the darkness.

Chase immediately froze. He debated turning back and grabbing his gun—in fact, he was leaning toward that—but what was there to hurt him in the house? It was probably just one of the others. He took a deep breath, and walked forward, turning into the kitchen.

Flipping the lights on, he saw mostly nothing was changed. Except Marvin was crouched on the floor, opening one of the bottom cabinets.

“Marv—!” Chase hissed. “What’re you doing?!”

Marvin didn’t so much as turn his head, just reached forward into the cabinet, and pulled out a plastic box.

“Hey!” Chase darted forward as soon as he recognized the box. He got there just in time to slam the lid down a moment after Marvin started to open it. “You can’t do that!”

And then Marvin did look at him. And Chase shivered, for some reason.

“Um...I’m just going to...” He managed to pull the box away, grabbing it and backing up. Marvin stayed where he was. While not taking his eyes off him, Chase pulled one of the dining room chairs over to the counter, climbed on top of it awkwardly, opened a topmost cabinet, shoved the plastic box inside, and slammed the cabinet door closed. “Okay...” He let out a deep breath, and climbed back down. “You should be asleep, you know that? C’mon, let’s go.”

With a little effort, Chase managed to guide Marvin back down the hall to the bedroom where he and Jackie were supposed to sleep—though Chase would be lying if he said he’d seen them ever close their eyes—and lay him down on the bed. And with a sigh, he left the room, closing the door behind him. That whole thing was...odd. Odd in a way that made you look over your shoulder. What really struck him was that he slept in the same room as the two of them—and he hadn’t heard Marvin get up and leave, even though he was lying there awake.

But he still wasn’t tired. So he walked back down the hall, trying to give the pacing another try.

“What was all that about?”

Chase yelped, jumping sideways until he hit the wall. Then when he saw who it was, standing in the entrance to the living room, he sighed. “Doc, what the hell? You can’t just sneak up on someone like that!”

“Sorry,” Schneep said.

“What’re you doing up?”

“What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Chase explained. “Now, you?”

“The same,” Schneep said. “I was reading. Sitting in here.”

“Well, why didn’t you turn on the light?”

Schneep blinked. “Did you seriously just ask a man who cannot see to turn on a light? Would that make a difference?”

Chase flinched. “I’m sorry, Schneep. I...I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Well, now you have. Besides, Jamie is still asleep in here.” Schneep gestured behind him into the living room. “On the sofa. I would not want to wake him up anyway.” He paused. “So what was all that noise in the kitchen?”

Chase sighed. “I...I don’t know what was going on. Marvin was in there. Messing with the cabinets.”

Schneep furrowed his brows. “Why? He and Marvin have been unresponsive for seven, eight days. Now, all of a sudden, this?”

“Yeah...it-it might have something to do with that string,” Chase confided. “Maybe they’re trying to get to it.”

“Why?”

“I-I don’t know.”

Schneep growled. “Well, they have been strange since this started anyway. I cannot feel them.”

Chase stared at him for a moment. “You can’t what?”

“That...that feeling you get when someone is nearby. You understand? I do not get that around them.”

“You mean, like, the hairs standing up on the back of your neck?”

“No, no.” Schneep shook his head. “That is the watching feeling. Do you not understand? The feeling you have when someone enters the room, and you just know someone is there now. And how close they are!”

“Yeah, I...I don’t get that, I think,” Chase said, shrugging. “It’s not that hard to sneak up on me.”

“Hmm.” Schneep looked confused at that. “Maybe it is different person by person. Or they say your other senses enhance when you lose one, maybe it is related to that.”

“Maybe.”

The two of them were silent for a moment. After a while, Schneep said, “You really should go to sleep.”

“I will,” Chase said automatically. “I mean—but, uh, so should you.”

“Perhaps.”

“Jesus, dude, you’re a doctor and you don’t know the benefits of sleep?”

“Ha...” Schneep’s expression fell a bit. “Well...that never stopped me when I was one.”

Oh. Chase stepped forward, voice softening. “Hey, I didn’t mean—”

“Go to sleep, Chase,” Schneep said, turning away.

Chase backed away. “Oh...okay. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Schneep nodded. Chase turned back, hand trailing over the walls. He still found sleep a while coming.

— — — — — — —

Everyone was awake at the same time that morning, all gathered in the kitchen. Jack was messing about in the cabinets, getting out dishes. JJ was sitting at the table, half-reading one of the magic books, holding it open with one hand. Schneep sat next to him, listening to whatever message JJ was tapping on the tabletop with his other hand. Chase was leaning against the wall on the fringes. Even Jackie and Marvin were there, sitting in the remaining chairs at the table, as blank as ever.

“Hey, JJ?” Jack said. “You know, I would’ve been fine bringing you breakfast again.”

JJ finished his statement to Schneep before answering Jack. I’m sick to death of being stuck on your sofa with my idiotic injured ankle.

“Well, then the next three weeks at least are gonna suck for you,” Chase muttered.

JJ glared at him, then returned to tapping Morse code on the table.

Jack raised an eyebrow at Chase, shutting the cupboard he was messing with. “That’s a little snappy, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, well...” Chase’s eyes darted around the kitchen. They landed on Marvin and Jackie, hovering on them. He shifted uncomfortably, then suddenly pushed away from the wall. “I...I don’t think I’m hungry.” And with that, he left the room.

“Wh...? Hey, Chase!” Jack ran after him.

Chase stopped halfway down the hall, letting Jack catch up with him. “What?”

Jack skidded to a halt. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s—”

“Don’t pull that shit on me, Chase Brody, I’ve known you longer than anyone else in this apartment,” Jack cut in. “I know when something’s up. I...I want to help, so can you let me?” He tried not to sound too desperate, but his question turned into a plea anyway.

Chase looked away. “It...it sounds crazy.”

“Our lives are crazy. Go on, what’s up?”

After a moment of hesitation, Chase sighed. “Okay. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, but...they’re freaking me out.”

Jack blinked. “Who? Jackie and Marvin? They are acting kind of creepy, I’ll admit, and this whole business yesterday was weird—”

“No, it—it’s different.” Unconsciously, Chase rubbed his wrist, reaching under the band and itching. “It’s like...fuck, it sounds crazy.”

“I don’t care how it sounds, if it’s bothering you, then it matters.”

Chase sighed. “They...they’re kind of reminding me of...him.”

Back in the kitchen, JJ finished tapping out his Morse code message. Schneep leaned back in his chair, confused. “I do not understand,” he said. “I would know if I had magic of some kind, yes?”

Maybe, JJ tapped. Didn’t you notice it odd when we got out of the room?

“Well, yes, but I assumed that was you,” Schneep admitted. “Or more strangeness of that place.”

No, it wasn’t. JJ insisted. It was you, I could tell.

“Well, what kind of magic would that be, anyway?” Schneep countered. “To get out of locked places? Is kind of...ah, I do not know. Stupid, I suppose. Yours is more useful.”

For keeping everyone else safe, yes, JJ admitted. But I can’t do simple tasks, or use it to defend myself.

“Those are strange rules, I—” Schneep stopped. In the silence, he heard the squeak of a chair against the kitchen tile. “Was that you?”

JJ, previously busy with dividing his attention between the conversation with Schneep and the magic book, looked up at the sound. In the few minutes since he’d last glanced over at them, Marvin and Jackie had both stood up. Jackie was dragging his chair over to the counter, while Marvin was staring at JJ and Schneep with a...it was almost a glare. JJ jumped, slamming his book shut. He tried to stand up, only for pain to shoot upward from his ankle. He crumpled back down with a muffled cry.

“What?! What is it?!” Schneep half-stood up, bracing himself.

This message had to be quick. J, M, he tapped. Weird.

Luckily, Schneep caught on quick. “What are they doing? Should I get the others?”

That would probably be a good idea. Call, JJ tapped, trying to stand up again, leaning his weight on the table.

Schneep raised his voice. “Jack?! Chase?! Something is happening?!”

It only took a few seconds for Jack and Chase to reappear in the kitchen, stopping in the doorway. Jackie had managed to drag the chair over to the counter, and was climbing on top. The moment Jack and Chase reappeared, Marvin switched his attention to them, watching.

“What are they doing?!” Jack yelled. He ran forward, only for Marvin’s hand to shoot out and grab him by the back of the hoodie as he passed. Jack cried out in surprise.

“I moved the box with the jar to that cabinet!” Chase, said, pointing. “Last night!”

“What?! Why?” Jack asked. He was trying to pull his hoodie away, but Marvin’s grip was unusually strong.

“Marvin was trying to get into it!” Chase explained.

“Well, we should not let them get to it!” Schneep stood up fully, though he looked unsure about what to do.

JJ reached a hand toward Jackie. A circle of blue runes briefly flickered around his fingers before fading. Jameson looked down at his hand in surprise.

“On it!” Chase dashed forward, giving Marvin a wide birth, and was by Jackie in a couple seconds. Jackie had opened the cupboard, and was pulling out the box. “Hey!” Chase tried to climb up onto the chair, but suddenly Jackie looked down at him, and kicked him away, sending him flying backwards.

“Stop it, both of you!” Jack didn’t think either Marvin or Jackie would listen, but he had to try. He managed to pry Marvin’s hand away from his hoodie, but as soon as he’d done that, Marvin suddenly reached forward and grabbed him, holding both arms behind his back. “Let go of me!” He glared at Marvin, and out of the corner of his vision, he got a glimpse of something...glowing. His soul vision. He’d been hesitant to use it before, but now? Well, what was there left to lose? He wasn’t sure what the two of them wanted with that string of Anti’s, but he just knew it wouldn’t end well. So he closed his left eye, letting the soul vision take over.

And in the center of Marvin’s chest, where Jack would usually see the glowing ball of light that he usually saw someone’s soul as...there was a loose pile of blue and red shards. He looked over at Jackie, climbing down from the chair with the box in his arms, and saw the exact same thing. He...he’d seen something like this before...

Chase climbed to his feet and lunged towards Jackie, grabbing for the box. But Jackie wasn’t as keen to let go of items as he was earlier, and a strange tug-of-war started. “Schneep? Jays? A little help?!” Chase called.

JJ tried to step forward, but once again winced under the pain of his injured ankle. Realizing he couldn’t get to Jackie, he looked over at Marvin, still holding Jack. And suddenly threw himself at him. Marvin stumbled.

“I do not know where they are!” Schneep wailed. “I told you, I cannot tell!”

“Can you tell where I am?” Chase said. “He’s right next to me! Help me get this away from him!”

Schneep scowled a bit, as if angry with himself for not thinking about that. And so he ran to Chase’s side. After a moment, he figured out where the box was and grabbed it, adding his strength to Chase’s side.

For a moment, everyone was locked in a struggle. Marvin tried to shrug JJ away while still keeping hold of a wriggling Jack. Jackie kept resisting Chase and Schneep’s attempts to pull the box away. For a moment, just a moment, they all seemed evenly matched.

And then the lid of the box came loose, and opened wide enough for the jar inside to roll out onto the floor with a heavy thunk!

Chase immediately dropped the struggle for the box, reaching down for the jar. But the string inside seemed to know he was coming. It pushed against the side of the jar, rolling it away from Chase’s grasping hand until it bumped against Jackie’s shoe. Jackie looked down, scooped up the jar, and raised it high above his head.

“No!” Jack shouted.

But it was too late. Jackie threw the jar down on the ground, and it shattered instantly.

The string inside wriggled and stretched, free of its confinement, and it started to grow in size. It shuddered and writhed, splitting in branches like a hydra growing heads. Tendrils reached out, wrapping around Jackie’s legs, and crawling over the ground until they were able to wrap around Marvin’s as well. The green light coming from the string intensified from a slight glow into a blinding glare, and anyone who could see it was forced to shut their eyes.

They opened them again to the sound of laughter. Marvin and Jackie had disappeared, and standing in the middle of the kitchen, static creeping over his skin, was Anti.

“No!” Chase grabbed Schneep’s arm, stepping backwards. “What—where—?”

“S̷u̢͠rpr̕i͏̸͝s̢ed to see me?” Anti waved his fingers. “You shouldn’t be.”

JJ slumped backwards against the kitchen table. He looked around the kitchen, then glared at Anti. Where are Jackie and Marvin? What did you do to them?!

Anti looked over at Jack and grinned. “You’ve figured it out h́av̛én'̛t͏ y̴̴o͞͠u̶?”

Jack didn’t want to say he had. But...he closed his eye again, looking at Anti’s “soul.” Just as he’d seen last time he looked at it, he saw red and blue shards, stitched together with that interwoven green string. But now he realized he’d seen the shards elsewhere. “He hasn’t done anything to them,” Jack said, voice almost too quiet to hear. “He is them.”

“No no no no no, that’s impossible. That’s impossible!” Chase laughed hysterically. “Jackie and Marv are—they’re not evil!”

“Everyone has a little bit of ḑa̷̡r̢k͟͠n̛es͢͠s͏ inside.” Anti waved his hand in front of his face, dispelling the mask of shadows and revealing his face for the first time since any of them had known him. He tilted his head to his left, and his features shifted a bit, looking more like Marvin. He tilted it to his right, and they shifted again to resemble Jackie. “What happens when that’s a̷̕l͏l͝ ͏t̡h̴a͏͡t'̀s̵̢ ̡l͠͠ef͞t̡̢͟?͏́”

JJ started to shake his head, but then his eyes glanced downward, and he froze. The amulets, he signed shakily. The transference did go wrong...just not in the way we imagined...

“There we go, you have a ṕ̨o̸̴ì̶n͞t͢ to existing, a̧͡fte̸ŗ͡ all̶̡̀!” Anti clapped his hands. “Yes, it went wrong. Neither of them expected that one of them would k��̙̜̼̞i̱̞̳̬̬͉̞̝ļ͇͞l̶̨̛͖ the other! Seems everything go̕͟ǫ̸̛d̸ got lost in translation!”

“You’re lying!” Chase shrieked. A few tears slipped down his face. “They were best friends! They wouldn’t hurt each other, much l-less—!” He choked, unable to even finish the sentence.

“Hmm, w͏ér̸͝e ͏t͠h̡e͟y̨͏?” Anti laughed. “Well, it doesn’t matter. T̡h̷e̷y'r̶̕e̷ g̀ó̷né̀ now. As you saw, there’s ǹơt̛͏h̡̢̀ì̢n͞͝g̶ left except some empty shells—a̴͞n̶d ̵́m̸̵e̡.”

Anti raised a hand. The room filled with the sound of static. Jameson managed to pull Jack close, a blue shield of runes flickering in front of the two of them. Chase backed up, paling.

And then, the air seemed to rip apart.

In between one second and the next, there was suddenly a kitchen knife driven into Anti’s chest. He screamed, staggering backwards. Another second, and then Schneep was in front of him, pulling the knife back out. He was panting, like he’d just sprinted across the room. He blinked, and for a moment, it almost looked like his eyes were black. And then it was gone. “You shut your mouth,” he growled.

Anti seemed to recover from the stab quickly, cracking a grin at Schneep. “That’s a new t̨ŗi̵͠c͠k̨,” he remarked. “Are you going to kil̢͝l̴ ̡̨m̢è͟͢? You, the least u͟ś̀ef̢ú̶l part of the group?”

“Yes,” Schneep said simply. And he lunged again.

Anti was prepared this time. With a burst of white noise, he disappeared, reappearing behind Jack and Jameson. “No, I don’t t̸h̡i̸n͏k͏ ͝s̶̶o.” Anti’s hand darted forward, and Jameson barely managed to swivel the circular shield around to the other side in time to block him.

There was another rip, and then Schneep was behind Anti, driving the knife forward again, managing to hit his shoulder. Anti shrieked, and spun around before Schneep could pull the blade out again. “Fine. Have it y̴̕͝o̸͢uŗ͠ ͢ẁ͡ay.” With a smile, he reached back and pulled the knife out himself, slashing it forward.

Schneep yelped, leaning backwards, and suddenly he wasn’t there anymore. Anti growled, and in a fit of static, he disappeared too.

The air was still filled with the sound of static. Occasionally the world jumped and fizzled, like it wasn’t sure of its place. Chase looked around. “Wh...what the fuck is happening?” He squeaked. “Did Henrik just—what?”

Jack glanced at JJ. “That would be the magic you told me about yesterday, right?”

JJ nodded.

“Schneep has magic?!” Chase asked, gaping.

“Apparently! Don’t ask how, ‘cause none of us know the answer, not even him!”

The world jumped again, and suddenly the cabinets all flew open in unison. Another jump, and all the dishes shattered into pieces. Another, and cracks shot through sections of the kitchen tile. “And what about this?!” Chase asked.

“I don’t know!” Jack shouted.

Maybe their magics colliding? JJ guessed.

The ceiling overhead groaned, and suddenly bits of plaster fell.

“Whatever it is, it’s destroying your apartment!” Chase yelled. “We have to get out of here!”

“But—Henrik!” Jack protested.

Chase hesitated. “We can go look for him, but we have to be quick.”

Jack nodded.

Chase ran across the kitchen floor, joining up with Jack and JJ. Jameson adjusted the shield to cover them from above, as more chunks of plaster started to fall, and the walls started to peel. “C’mon,” he said, throwing one of Jameson’s arms over him to support him. “We gotta go!”

They didn’t have to go far. The living room was crumbling, same as the kitchen. The lamp was broken in two, the upholstered furniture bleeding cotton. Schneep and Anti were jumping in and out of existence, flickering between places in the room. At first, it seemed an evenly matched sort of chase, but after a while it became clear who was winning. Schneep had no weapon, and he didn’t understand his own powers, making his disoriented. It wasn’t long before Schneep was cornered—literally stuck huddling against the room’s corner, Anti looming over him.

JJ threw out his hand, and a circle of blue appeared above Schneep just in time to deflect the blow from Anti’s knife.

Anti scowled, turning his attention to the group who’d just entered. A smile twisted his face. “Someone’s h̵u̵͢ŗ͠ţ͟in̛g͞! Someone’s ś͟lo̵̴͞w̧.”

“Leave him alone,” Jack hissed.

“Or...?” Anti pressed his knife deeper into Jameson’s shield. Below him, Schneep was trembling, panting, eyes wide yet seeing nothing. “You can’t do a̴ņy͠ţ͝h͡įn͢g̴̢ about it! The f͞à͟͡k̀e̶ magician can only defend, my pu͢p͏̸p̡e̷͠ţ has no weapons, and you can only s͟͠e͡e̢̕ what’s wrong and n̛͞oth̷̀ì̷͞ng̢̕ else!” He laughed, and pressed down harder, sparks flying from the shield. It flickered. “In the end, you’re a̵̷̢̹̻̲l̷̵͕͟ļ̯̗̲̘̭͓̳͠l u̸s̷̢e̴l̡es͞͏s͢͝! So why not let me take out the one who does the ĺȩ̵ąs̨t̷͝ for you?!”

Schneep suddenly screamed and clutched at his head. The world shuddered, and slashed apart, slices of darkness appearing in between broken fragments. When it all settled, Schneep was gone.

Even Anti looked surprised at this, taking a few steps back. But he recovered, shaking his head and smiling at the other three. “Oh well. I can still take care of y͡͏̨o̷͟u̴̷”

Jack, Jameson, and Chase all glanced at each other. And in unison, they sprinted for the door.

The room behind them started to fall apart, wires flying out of the walls, pieces of furniture bursting, the ceiling collapsing right behind their heels. The three of them barely managed to get out the door, Chase and Jack pulling Jameson behind them. Anti screamed. Cracks full of static crawled along the wall, following them. “Keep going!” Chase yelled.

They ran.

— — — — — — —

They didn’t stop until they were at least a block away from the apartment building, and then they all collapsed to the ground in unison, breathing hard.

“What—was—that?!” Jack yelled.

Jameson shrugged vaguely.

“That was Anti,” Chase said, staring at nothing. He blinked, and a tear escaped. “A-and Anti was...was...” He buried his face in his hands.

Jack nodded. He felt...nothing. Just a sort of numbness. It didn’t hurt, though maybe it would later. But for now, it was just...empty. “They...they’re...”

“They can’t be.” Chase looked up. “They can’t be gone.”

Jameson looked up. Chase...maybe—

“No!” Chase suddenly shrieked. “They aren’t gone! An—he was lying! He just took them away again! They’re not him! They can’t be! They can’t! They...they...” He slumped, and let the tears flow. “They can’t have...done that to me. To us,” he sobbed.

Jack didn’t say anything. There was nothing he could say. But he reached over and gently picked up Chase’s hand. Chase squeezed it tight as he continued to cry.

They must’ve stayed there for ten minutes at least, sitting on the sidewalk as morning traffic drove by. Briefly, Jack wondered what onlookers would think, but he didn’t care. They needed this.

After a while, they all calmed, staring blankly out at the city. “Where are we supposed to go now?” Jack whispered.

Where did Henrik go? JJ asked. We have to find him.

Jack nodded. “But...we can’t just stay on the street. He could find us.”

Chase wiped his eyes. “I...I think I know a place.” He stood up.

Jack stood as well, pulling JJ up and letting him lean on him. “Really? Where?”

“It’s...some way away. We’ll have to walk a while,” Chase admitted. “I just hope she’ll let us stay.”

“Oh.” Jack nodded. “I see.”

“C’mon, let’s hurry,” Chase said. “The sooner we get somewhere safe, the sooner we can figure out what to do next.”

And in silence, they started walking.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #antisepticeye #marvin the magnificent #jackieboy man #chase brody #jameson jackson #dr schneeplestein #brigid writes fanfiction #fixing stitching #stitchedstories

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p-jiminaa · 6 years ago

Text

Couple Game. (Part 4)

Jeon Jeongguk and You.

Summary: A sudden ‘drama’ between you and him.

Genre: Fluff to angst.

Attn: Gif is not mine. Credit to the owner.

Masterlist

“Jeongguk-ah... let’s have lunc...” Your words paused when you see him sitting beside a girl with a surprised looks washed over their face. Well, literally it’s your fault though. You’re ambushing his studio without informing or telling him that you’re coming. You thought you’re going to surprise him with your surprise appearance but then you’re actually surprised by him. Ashamed by your behaviour you say “Ah sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb.”

“It’s fine. We’re almost done.” He says as he pull over the high back chair situated behind him and pull it over beside him. “Here.” He says as he gesture you to sit. You’re contemplating whether to sit but his voice cut your train of thought. “It’ll finish in five Y/n. Come sit here.” He says with a smile.

You bit your lips (still contemplating) before walking and sit beside him. He smile to you before he moved his gaze towards the computer back. You heard the girl next to him continued her explanation that being stop due to you sudden appearance. You assumed she’s one of a staff that is skilled in video editing as he taught Jeongguk an easier and fastest way to edit a video.

You rolled back the chair as you felt bored or you can say you felt being out of place as you could not get the things they are discussing. Jeongguk’s notice your behaviour as he abruptly told the girl to continue another time and she reluctantly stood up and went out from the room. AND oh ya, she even shot you a glare when she’s about to close the door before moving your gaze to him. “Bi*ch.” You said underneath your breath.

You thought you said that in soft and low voice but you were wrong when you heard Jeongguk burst out into a fit of laughter. “Are you jealous?”

“In your dream.” You replied promptly.

“It’s not her fault that you have to wait and it’s not even five minutes. You came without informing me. If you text or call me then I would make sure that my lunch time will be spent with you fully.” He replied you and smirking devilishly to you. To this you rolled your eyes, to show him your annoyance.

He then pull over your chair where you knee hitted him. When you’re about to push him away, he grab the arm of the chair so you could not move. “You say you wanted to have lunch together. But you come empty handed.” He says lowly as he brought his face in front of you.

“Let’s cancel the lunch. I am not starving anymore.” You replied him quickly. Why am I acting like a jealous girlfriend right now. I am not even his.

“Aii please. If you wanted me to fall in love with you, please get rid of this behaviour. I hate someone who get sulky easily.” He says as he pull your chair beside him so that you’re facing his computer while he grab his phone and made a call which you don’t even care to listen what he’s talking about but your lips turned into a smile when he said something about ‘pepperoni pizza’. Aww he remembered your favourite.

“It’ll be here in 15. Are you sure you’re not hungry?” Wait ... if he’s asking you about that then why would he ordered the pizza. Ah, so he ordered that for himself.

“No!” You stand up and went out from his room. You heard his laughter when you’re outside. Aish this man! And again, why would I am acting like this. Okay to be honest, you felt a bad vibe from the woman before. Like she has this negative aura and you hate it when she intentionally brush her hand with Jeongguk when she wanted to hold the computer mouse. Well, to Jeongguk this is kind of normal but not to you. Ahh whatever.

You were about to walk away from the door when she suddenly appeared in front of you. She let out a smirk when your gazed meet before knocking and entering Jeongguk studio again. Shaking your head to lear whatever ridiculous thought that came to your mind, you then went to Yoongi’s studio and you didn’t care if he’s sleeping or whatever, you need a place to crash.

*** It’s been two hours since you left Jeongguk’s studio and he didn’t even care to call or find you and the pizza? You can imagine that it’s been long gone. Luckily enough, Yoongi is in a good mood today so he let you in and after thirty minutes being in the studio you asked for his permission to fall asleep on the long sofa behind his work station which you know a place for him to sleep. He permitted you to sleep with a condition that you would not drool on the sofa nor sleep talk because once you do this, he will kick you out from the studio, whether you’re still asleep or not.

“Y/n... hey wake up...” You heard a soft voice calling for you and when you opened your eyes, your gazed meet with Taehyung who has an astonished expression on his face.

“Hai...” You say groggily. He shook his head before he help you to get up.

“I thought you wanted to have lunch with Jeongguk. But hyung said you’ve been here since lunchtime.” To this you nodded your head, weakly. “Here.” He passed you your mobile phone. “It’s been vibrated few times since I came in.”

“It’s been vibrated since she fall asleep.” Yoongi cut him out.

When you checked your phone you were surprised when you received a lots of missed call, from your mother. Since when she need me? You asked yourself that question. Letting out a long sigh, you call her back and were surprised when the call was actually from ER telling you that your mother is admitted to hospital due to exhaustion. Is she finally reached her limit? Like she’s been fu*king every night so yeah, that why she’s exhausted. You told them that you’re coming and thanks them before ending the call.

“What happened?” Taehyung who is now sitting beside you asked and Yoongi turned his chair towards you.

You shrugged your shoulder. “My Mother is admitted to ER.” You answered them casually. Their expression turned into panicked and worried when you uttered that.

“Oh My God! So why are you still here?” Taehyung asked you.

“Because this is not the first time and don’t worry, with or without me someone will come and visit her.” You said as if you’re not talking about your mother. Frown washed over Yoongi’s face and he stand up and took your hand.

“I am not going. Okay?” You say as he’s about to pull you from the sofa.

Taehyung head turned to you. “But your mother...”

“She’s fine.”

Yoongi push away your hand harshly. “I don’t fu*king care if you have bad relationship with your mother Y/n. But for God sake she’s in the hospital and you need to go there now!” You flinch when you heard he’s yelling at you.

“Hyung...” Taehyung’s panicked voice is apparent when he called upon his hyung.

Right at that moment, the door was open and Jeongguk appeared. “What happened?” He asked as he realized your scared expression.

You shook your head before standing up and walked towards the door where Jeongguk stood. Before you went out, you turned to them. “Thank you for letting me crashing your place Yoongi.” You said with a smile before going out.

Jeongguk trailed closely behind you as you left. Once you reached the elevator door and pressing the button, you turned back to him. “Tell them I am sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.” You say as you turned back facing the door.

“Are you okay?” To this you let out a hummed. “I am sorry about my behaviour. I should not...”

“Jeongguk it’s fine. I over-reacted too. I am sorry.” You cut him out quickly. There was a long stretch of silence after that. Few moments after that, the door’s open and you walked inside and turn back towards Jeongguk. Thankfully, the elevator was empty so there was only you. His eyes remained on you so you put up your hand and waved at him before the elevator’s door closed.

***

You regret your decision of not spending the night anywhere other than your home that night because the moment you step on your door is when your fight started with Jeongguk. You were surprised at first when you see Jeongguk waiting for you, sitting on the sofa in the living room. His hard gaze meet yours the moment you opened the door and he stood up instantly when he see you walking towards him with curious look.

“Why are you here?” You asked him casually and curiously as he didn’t inform you about him coming tonight.

“Just what the fu*k you think you’re doing Y/n?” He asked you in stern voice.

You were genuinely surprised because one, he use the f word to you and second the use of his stern tone voice.

“What?” You asked him back as you did not understand to what he’s referring to.

“How could you not fetch up your mother? She’s sick! She has to call me to get her home.” Oh so now she’s involving Jeongguk to this. Who does she think is she? Some kind of special woman that need to be pick up.

“She’s fine Jeongguk. It’s not like this is her first time to be admitted to ER.”

“You think that? If she’s fine then why would she fainted again the moment she reached home. If I was not here, do you think she’ll survive?”

Your brows furrows in irritation. Oh now it's all your fault for not fetching her or not at home? She’s a fu*king adult! She can take care of herself. “If you wanna fight, just go. I am tired. I need to sleep.” You say as you walk passed him.

But then his hand grab your arm and you were push harshly towards the door. “Jeongguk that’s hurt!” You yell as you felt the impact of literally being push towards the door.

“Oh that’s hurt? What about your mother’s feeling that you didn’t care to know or ask all this time?”

“She’s an adult! She can take care of herself Beside she was exhausted because of her daily se*ual activity.” You replied him instantly. Upon uttering this you felt a sting on your cheek and that when you realized, it was him ... slapping you because of your mother.

You felt tears welling your eyes but you held it back. Never ever you thought that he would be hitting you and there’s no hint of regrets on his expression when he done that.

“Consider that I am gone starting today. You know where the door is. Goodbye.” You utters in lows hurried voice. You stomp off towards your bedroom.

You plopped on your bed, tears flowing out from your eyes. If Jeongguk decided to take your mother’s side then that it, you’re not going to tolerate that.

#bangtan #bts #bts jungkook #bts kookie #jeon jungkook #bts imagines #bts imagination #bts series #jeongguk imagine #jeongguk series #bts au fanfic #jeongguk x you #jeongguk x reader #jeongguk x y/n #bts army #bts fluff #bts angst #bynaa #couplegame

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rebels-advocate-blog · 7 years ago

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fbi: don’t move

hOwDy hO, hErE wE gO

Ivan is a completely ordinary, totally unassuming, simple meme-loving guy, and Alfred is the FBI agent who secretly lives in his camera. Governments and grudges are thrown aside as chance encounters in Washington D.C. bring them closer and closer together.

read it with your own eyes on fanfiction.net!

read it with your own eyes on archive of our own!

or, just scroll down a bit and read the first chapter right here! (with stolen eyes)

fbi: don’t move

Ivan laughed, which was to say he snorted very, very lightly. Even snorting was an overstatement; a silent wisp of breath escaped him as he swiped away at his screen, liking the photo and commenting: LOLOKOLKOLOLOL1!1! He switched gears to search up the hashtag under the meme, something he almost never did, and found a semi-sorted collection of posts following the same theme. He wasted no time screenshotting a few of his favorites to pirate for himself later.

Soon. Soon he would break 999K followers. And then, and then. Then he would have a million followers. A million was a lot, depending on who you asked. Beyoncé only had fifteen million—at least on Twitter. (On Instagram she had eleven hundred million.) He wanted to rule the Internet.

Ivan turned his phone off and threw it across the bed, forcing himself to get up and move if he wanted to retrieve it. Stretching languidly, he rolled out of the warmth of the covers and faced the day.

He dressed in comfortable, durable clothes; Ivan had recently secured a position as a horticulturist for the Smithsonian Gardens along the National Mall, which was a fancy way of saying he cut grass and trimmed hedges all day, except it was really nice grass and they were really nice hedges. Obviously, wearing his favorite scarf was less than ideal for the sweaty work, but Ivan would never and could never take it off. He slipped into his boots and thrust a spare pair of gloves into his pocket. Sadly, he couldn't use his phone on the job, but he could use headphones. He began to hum to himself, imagining the songs he would listen to on his first shift.

Before shoving his phone into his bag, Ivan took a glance at the blank screen. A strange feeling overcame him as his eyes drifted upwards, making contact with the minuscule blue dots of light inside his camera lens. He held its gaze for a brief, piqued interest that lasted about two seconds, then giggled. "Goodbye, Mr. FBI," he sang to himself.

It was silly. He dropped the phone into his bag and left his apartment with haste.

Alfred grabbed street food on the way to work, washing it down with a hefty Starbucks to go. Whipping the shades off from overtop his regular glasses, he strode into headquarters. Immediately, he had to give up his meal so it could be scanned for toxins while he himself was stripped and searched. Elizabeta Héderváry, chief of the gray division, took an eternity to scrutinize Alfred's badge. Alfred tapped his toes and fidgeted to himself. Predictably, Ivan would be online in seven minutes. "Alright, Jones." She handed back Alfred's ID. "You're clear. But don't let me catch you in here again, or it's straight to the slammer." She drew a line across her throat.

Alfred gratefully collected his food and his badge. "Wait, what the? Dude, I work here!"

She stared him down.

Alfred, without hesitation, steadied himself and stared back.

After a few seconds of silence, Chief Héderváry burst into hearty laughter. "I'm only testing you, kid! I guess it's very Gilbert of me. But gosh, you would have thought I had just admitted to you that the tooth fairy isn't real, or that Santa is Illuminati propaganda, or that JFK is still alive up on a secret moon base in space...oops." She covered her mouth. "I've said too much."

Alfred blinked slowly. "Okay. I'll just...get to work then, um, before you zap me and wipe my memory."

The agent nodded. "Better bolt. Gotta keep you on your feet." She then began drawing her stun gun, but Alfred had already disappeared down the hall. He frantically dove into an arriving elevator and jammed a finger down on the button to close the doors as the clunky boots of the Héderváry's footsteps came closer. Alfred hugged his food to his chest and pressed into the corner of the tiny metal box. He had had his memory wiped before, he was certain, and had even had to do it to others once or twice—it was a ghastly, abominable experience. The chief's image appeared between the elevator's two closing doors and Alfred screamed, but when the shot was fired the elevator had already begun its descent.

Alfred shivered, cradling himself. He was safe for now. He dug into his food and snuck out a bite of greasy fry. It would be two hundred more dings of the elevator before he arrived at the secret underground black zone where all the FBI agents monitored their respecting, (un)suspecting citizens.

Alfred had finished half of his coffee before he made it to the negative two hundredth floor. It was pretty swampy down there, due to the thick consistency of cubicles, the heat coming off of so much compressed technology, and also due to the government having concealed the fact that, yes, Washington D.C. had really been built atop a swamp. He had his semi-greasy fingerprints scanned a second time and then navigated the maze toward his cubicle. He only had two minutes at best before Ivan came home.

Ivan was Alfred's monitor man, Alfred's subject of spy. Alfred had Ivan's schedule practically burned into his brain: he woke up at six-thirty, dabbled on his phone for fifteen minutes, then put it in his pocket and didn't use it again until four, when he got off work. Ivan did not have a computer, making Alfred's hacking tasks both easier and harder by reserving everything to Ivan's cell phone. Alfred would transfer Ivan's morning visuals to Alfred's own laptop to monitor in the morning, and Alfred usually came to headquarters to watch Ivan during the rest of his day. Sometimes he took shifts with another agent, but lately Alfred had been finding himself at headquarters more and more. After all, it was important to develop a deep understanding of your subject, even if your subject had no idea you even existed.

Alfred fired up his special, government-issued laptop, opening the monitor. Just in time, too; Ivan's face soon filled the screen. Alfred sighed. It was on.

Alfred knew almost everything about Ivan. His names (Ivan "Vanya" Braginsky), his family (one older sister and one younger sister), and even the songs he sang in the shower (surprisingly a lot of Taylor Swift). Alfred knew Ivan was the head of a semi-famous online meme domain. Alfred knew Ivan watered the sunflowers in his window every day as soon as he came home. Alfred knew Ivan didn't have many friends. Alfred knew Ivan had long, red scars circling around his neck, hidden under that huge off-white scarf he always wore. Alfred knew Ivan liked soft things and had five blankets on his bed. Alfred also knew that Ivan was at the top of the FBI's list of suspected dangerous Russian intelligence agents, and it was Alfred's duty to report any fishy activity. So far, Alfred had observed none.

Other than the fact that Alfred had to be constantly alert in his job, monitoring Ivan was pretty easy. Ivan had a cute face, and often made little childish noises and expressions whenever he saw something that grabbed his attention. Alfred had trained in the Russian language for years and still couldn't capture the melodiousness of Ivan's murmurs to himself. Sometimes Ivan would be scrolling through social media at night and fall asleep on his phone, which was annoying but undeniably adorable. And he was an immigrant; Alfred could damn well appreciate the hard work it must have taken Ivan to leave his homeland and adjust to life here.

However, this morning, Ivan had addressed Alfred personally, saying "Goodbye, Mr. FBI" before he put his phone away, and that had been hella creepy.

Ivan wasn't saying anything now, just staring at the screen, his eyelids half-shut, eyes moving in line formation over whatever he was reading. Alfred took a sip of his Starbucks and tapped into Ivan's phone display, bringing up a rectangle of white with a thick block of Helvetica text. Alfred's eyes scanned it himself, knowing it was another online post, and Alfred had read thousands of Ivan's. They were quality. When he finished laughing, he switched focus back to Ivan's camera visual; the ceiling behind Ivan was moving as Ivan sat down at his kitchen table. Ivan picked at his lip, snorting a little. The sound of his bags hitting the floor echoed to Alfred, and soon Ivan began humming a sweet song.

Alfred kicked back in his ultra-comfort wheely chair and popped in another fry, enjoying the music. He had no reason to feel so comfortable in the artificial presence of a creepy Russian, yet his wariness was drowned out by tribute for the memes. And Ivan's face. Thank god Ivan at least had a nice face that Alfred got to stare at all evening.

There was a knock on the wall of Alfred's cubicle. He spun around too quickly in the wheely chair and had to overcorrect, graciously spilling a couple of fries into his lap. "Whaddya want?"

It was Toris. A fellow FBI monitor, the long-haired Lithuanian stood stiff in the doorway to Alfred's workspace, making more eye contact with Alfred's inspirational NASA star map poster than with Alfred. "Hi. Um, Felicks went to the bathroom, so I was going to be taking break, and if I remember correctly, you told me to 'mosey on over when you get a chance, because I got the goods?'"

"Aw yeah!" Alfred pushed down his laptop screen so it was at a forty-five degree angle. Toris knew who Ivan was, and sometimes covered Alfred's shifts when Alfred stayed up too late playing video games or reading Marvel fanfiction, but Alfred still didn't want to be interrupted on the job. After all, both Ivan's screen and his camera were blank and black; he must have gone to take his daily shower. "Right here, man. Check it out. They were handin' them out all down the Mall, and I managed to snag a few extras!"

Toris took the item in his hand and inspected it cautiously. "This is a…a SAVE THE WHALES sticker?"

"No, a SAVE THE WHALES magnet!" Alfred corrected, spinning it over. "I thought you might want one, since your space is so plain and boring and all. It'd give you something to look at other than Felicks's fancy skirt collection, or whatever."

The tips of Toris's ears turned red. "They're designer." Yet he didn't refuse the magnet.

Not every FBI monitor happened to be stationed in the vicinity of their subject; Felicks lived halfway across the world from Toris, and was an alleged underground market weapons dealer, with emphasis on alleged. Mostly he just took selfies in the bathtub and embarrassed Toris to no end. Alfred considered himself lucky that Ivan was only half a city away, though they had yet to cross paths in public.

Toris drifted out with the magnet in hand and Alfred was left to finish dinner in peace. He flipped his screen back up and found that Ivan was at the stove, cooking his own meal while watching a Vine compilation. Alfred grinned, keeping up both the front camera and screen views as he dug in so he could laugh along with Ivan. "I smell like beef." A long time passed. They finished eating their dinners at the same time; Alfred imagined the noodle casserole thing Ivan had cooked tasted better than Alfred's weak Starbucks.

Now Ivan had set his phone against the wall to rest while he washed the dishes. He was mumbling peacefully to himself again, but Alfred couldn't tell if he was singing or talking over the sound of swishing water and clinking silverware. After a couple more plates, Ivan's movements slowed, and his gaze slowly climbed back up to the phone screen. The phone camera. "Are you there, Mr. FBI?" he whispered.

Alfred jolted in his seat. It was just like this morning! No warning, no nothing. In English! There was no way Ivan could ever know, of course, that he was being monitored, so the sudden unprompted conversations with a seemingly inanimate object had to stem from Ivan's latest meme obsession. Alfred knew about it.

He was onto them.

"How was your day?" Ivan asked, redirecting his gaze towards the skillet he was scrubbing. "Mine was well. I planted flowers today, and I had a nice conversation with a policeman. Do you talk to police often, Mr. FBI?"

Alfred let his shoulders relax, his mind wandering unintentionally, following Ivan's statements. Coincidentally, his brother Matthew was a DC police officer and friend of the division, but sadly, they didn't have many chances to talk. "What are you doing, man?" Alfred blurted out. "You know this is weird, right?"

Alas, Ivan would never be able to hear Alfred. He had already begun saying something else by the time Alfred was done speaking: "...and work around the people, because it is so fun inside, and there's AC! People are scared to talk to me when I am working outside. But at least I don't have to stand all day." Ivan's voice had gotten quieter, forcing Alfred to pay closer attention. "Do you stand all day when you work, Mr. FBI?"

"Hell no." Alfred kicked the wheels of his chair. "But don't get excited—it's a curse, dude. I would choose a nice garden with fresh air over this stuffy old garage any day."

Ivan was silent and complacent, as if he was really listening, Dora the Explorer-like, and Alfred still couldn't discern if it was endearing or eerie. Ivan's eyelids were halfway shut, a tiny smile gracing his lips. He waited a second more, then nodded. "Is your work boring, Mr. FBI?"

He considered. "Yeah. Not that you're that boring, but…" Alfred let the sentence hang. It wasn't as if it mattered if he finished it, anyway. And the fact was that Ivan was pretty boring. He was the only one ever in his apartment, and went to bed early on Friday nights. On Saturdays he did laundry and cleaned, and every Sunday he napped and called his sisters! "I'm just glad you work so much so I don't have to. Wow, I did not mean for that to sound mean. Um, it's true, though. If you had a computer, things would be differen—"

"Agent Jones?" a recognizable accented voice peeped around the doorway. "Whom are you talking to?"

For the second time that day, Alfred jumped and pushed down his screen, muting Ivan. "No one, good golly, don't scare me like that!"

Chief Arthur Kirkland, Alfred's boss and the head of the black division, didn't appear to notice or care. He stood stiffer than Toris had, clipboard and pencil in hand. "Okay, so, listen. You're mates with Agent Beilschmidt, right? He never checked in with Chief Héderváry and she wanted me to ask—"

Alfred adjusted his glasses, scrunching up his nose. "Which Beilschmidt?"

"The elder." Arthur steeled himself, putting a perplexed finger to his temple. "Apparently, Gilbert's gone MIA."

Alfred crossed his arms. "I haven't seen him since office bowling on Friday. He got his arm stuck in the ball return. Today Héderváry tried to stun me when I checked in! What is up with the gray division?"

Kirkland shook his head to himself, beginning to pace in place. His eyes were as wide as quarters, staring unforgivably at his clipboard as if it held all the answers. "With Carriedo missing already, I'm sure there's foul play to suspect, or even worse—the Mafia. They're on the same team; it's too much of a coincidence. It also means—" He gasped suddenly, raising his crazy blond head in epiphany. Then his voice lowered to a whisper. "It means someone else will be next."

Alfred sat up straighter, suddenly excited. "Whoa, really? Can I help? What case were they working on before they disappeared? Who saw them last? Where—"

"No." Arthur Kirkland was cross. "Not your division. Just let them handle it. Who are you monitoring, again?"

He hesitated. "Ivan. I mean, Braginsky. The...the guy—"

"The Russian spy, right." Arthur stuck his pen behind his ear. "Well. I'll be off, then. Remember to record any—"

"I know, I know." Alfred waved his hand. He felt more and more antsy the longer the Chief was in his space. "Just get on with it. It's fine."

"Right." Arthur frowned and touched his headpiece, half-turned away. "Good day, then. Do your work."

Alfred swiveled back to Ivan, groaning loudly as Arthur departed. Sometimes he felt like he was never taken seriously, but then again, he did sit at a desk and watch a famous memer's life all day. He wasn't sure if such a job should be taken seriously or not.

"I wish I was in a different division," Alfred blurted out. While he had been distracted by Arthur, Ivan had finished washing dishes and was now wiping down his stove and countertops. "I want to do more field agent stuff. My job would be a lot less boring if, instead of hacking all your gadgets and watching you from behind this screen, I could actually go out and spy on you. You know, like, shadow you from around street corners, hiding in the bushes with binoculars, open up the refrigerator door and BAM I'm there!" Alfred slapped his hands on his knees, grinning. "Eat all your food. Make you drop your croissant."

Ivan was still smiling to himself in that charming, unnerving way as he strangled the last drops of water from his rag and hung it over the faucet to dry. "What do you like to do when you're not working, Mr. FBI? Or do you work all the time? I imagine you taking shifts with someone else. Which FBI do I speak to now?"

"Nope, just me. I mean, other black division monitors like Toris sometimes, or Ludwig Beilschmidt if I can convince him, but mostly just me. They all have other guys to watch; y'all suspected criminals are weird. If I wasn't here I would be at NASA." Alfred glanced wistfully at the star chart above his head. "But they wanted me to work on computers, and I wanted to go to space. Diddly darn dang, I love space."

Ivan waited five more seconds before responding. "That's nice."

Alfred nodded fervently. "Damn right it is. Arthur—what a mom—says I waste my talents—"

"I hope you are having an good day, wherever you are," Ivan mused. "I assume you work at FBI headquarters. I walked by that place today. Tomorrow I work in the butterfly garden. It is very close, and my favorite place to work."

"That's rad. I've been there. It's right next to the Museum of Natural—"

"It is next to the Museum of Natural History." Ivan was staring directly at the camera. For the many months Alfred had been Ivan's monitor, he hadn't noticed the purple hue his eyes took on in this dim kitchen glow. "Very beautiful, da? Convenient that most of the Smithsonian buildings are close to each other, all in the same place. I can look at prize artifacts and arrange flowers at the same time."

Alfred was silent. A vision of Ivan with a butterfly perched atop his big nose entered Alfred's mind. He wished Ivan used his phone on the job, wondering what Ivan actually looked like while working. The phone was harder to hack when it was turned completely off; Ivan normally kept it like that during the day while Alfred was away.

"Oh. That reminds me. One moment, Mr. FBI." Ivan walked off out of view.

An idea began to take shape in Alfred's mind, replacing the image of Ivan and the butterfly. Really, allowing Ivan to go that whole slot of time without documentation was a bad strategy, especially if Ivan really was a dangerous Russian intelligence agent. Who knew what he could be up to? And with all the gray division field agents being abducted by the Mafia, apparently, there would be less people to go out and make sure Ivan wasn't, like, putting poison into the plants or something. Alfred could step up and ask. Alfred wanted to see Ivan irl.

And speaking of Ivan, where the heck was he?

Alfred instinctively leaned forward before forgetting it was impossible to see around the kitchen through Ivan's phone. He was positioned so he was staring at Ivan's undecorated refrigerator. He couldn't even hear Ivan, though he remembered Ivan had excused himself.

Ivan never did this. After dishes he would always make himself a lunch for the next day, spend another thirty minutes online, read a little of the book he was slowly working through, check his phone again, and then get ready for bed. Alfred stared frustratedly at the screen, willing it to shift. "Hey, get back over here!" he protested. "You can't just leave me hanging like this!"

From the other room came a thump and a crinkle of plastic that sounded like an empty Doritos bag.

"Ivan!" Alfred huffed. "Don't make me do it!" He brought up a tab of the phone's controls. His finger hovered over the mouse. "Alright, you asked for it. Hear that? I'm doing it, Braginsky!" He pressed a button, making the phone burst into a frantic buzzing.

A few seconds later Ivan reentered the kitchen, his soft boi face appearing innocent and concerned through the screen. Alfred shut the phone's buzzing off, crossing his arms smugly. "Explain yourself."

Ivan, however, didn't say anything. He picked up the phone, opened it, and went straight to his meme account. Alfred felt betrayed when Ivan didn't speak any more, just swiped through his feeds. "So close," he mumbled to himself, having switched back to Russian. Alfred was a bit startled by this, as well; if Ivan knew (or thought he knew) that no one was going to hear and respond to him, why had he been using English when he spoke to "Mr. FBI?" Alfred accepted it was just another of his quirks that made Alfred's job easier. But it signified that their conversation was now over.

"Okay, whatever, it's chill, then." Alfred glanced at the time. He still had a few long hours to go before Ivan clocked in for the night. He had been caught off-guard by the unprompted half-conversation, and now was embarrassed at how he had whined about being ignored. Deep down, Alfred didn't really believe Ivan was a criminal or a spy. Criminals didn't get drunk on vodka home alone and laugh so pleasantly. Spies didn't jump on their beds in excitement whenever it snowed and knit their own oven mitts. Ivan was as ordinary and unassuming and simple as one could be, and immigrant or otherwise he had absolutely no reason to be on the FBI black list.

So Alfred sighed and settled into his cubicle for another evening of memes, same as always. He waited, watched and waited, stole food from Toris and waited, but it turned out that Mr. FBI didn't even get a "Goodnight."

Ivan had no intention of telling his phone goodnight. In fact, he had been reading (and posting) so many FBI memes lately that he left his phone on his bed under the covers in paranoia while he went to the bathroom. But not because it was gross to have someone watching him do his business, which it was. It was because under his sink, squeezed behind the water pipe, was a laptop computer no one knew about but himself and an invisible faction of Russian hackers. Stored on that computer was vital information he had been slowly leeching from the Smithsonian Institute. He didn't know what the circle would do with the info when he sent it, wrapped up with ribbons and bows over a deep web email provider, but he knew if he didn't do his job there would be consequences. He made sure to flush the toilet and run the water on his way out.

Ivan hopped into bed and picked his phone back up, humming as if nothing had happened. He refused to look at the camera lens again, but chided himself. If someone really was watching him, he would know. He distracted himself by checking his meme account once more.

Ivan buried his body under the massive pile of blankets, turning off the lamp and letting his phone screen be the only source of light in the room. He had read that blue light before bed destroyed the eyes, but figured he was already too far gone in that direction to fix anything now. Someone had commented "Congratulations! Heart emoji, fireworks emoji, clapping hands emoji," on his most recent post. Ivan's breaths picked up as he doubled back to check his follower count, gasping when he saw it.

He had broken one million.

I have nothing to say for myself.

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janiklandre-blog · 8 years ago

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Saturday, April 8, 2017

8:50 a.m. sunny still cool the computer room must have been left open last night by mistake - I noticed it when I came down to the second floor - I leave yesterday's nyt with a neighbor whom I rarely see - and also this morning I made use of a bathroom on the second floor. This is the next to last day of my house guests and at least one of them got up earlier than usual - until now I never saw them before late in the morning. This house here does have many amenities - mostly used by the Chinese - here on the second floor this here computer room, next door some room for the yard sales, then the laundry room, bathrooms, a library with a sewing machine - then on every floor a garbage shoot - next door to my apartment - and downstairs a community room with three stationary bicycles - there used to be upholstered furniture, but no more - were I to go to the occasional tenent meetings called by the administrator I might know why what is happening and also find out about the obscure projects why in very short intervals 16 apartments have to be inspected - by lottery - to find out about the state of the house.

Then there is a room with a pool table, vending machines and a table the Chinese use to play cards. Beautiful plants - a project taken on by a fellow tenant whom I knew long before moving here. At a young age she was seriously injured falling from a swing - was able to be classified disabled and receive government support - supplemented it by baby sitting - and became a very active activist - with the aids group act up, with active disabled - who successfully lobbied to make all places accessible to disabled - our wars, countless automobile accidents, also workplace accidents have contributed to their number - and now: old age group rapidly growing. Also Indian affairs. She never married and loves plants - once asked me to water her thirty plants while she had one of several operations - every plant with a special plan - I told her I was the wrong person. Also at first she wanted me as company to go to shows, museums, exhibits, concerts - people do think that as a German with an M.Phil from Columbia U I must enjoy New York's countless - many free - offerings - and I disappoint them when I tell them, I go to parks, my Society Library, the Catholic Worker - that is enough for me. She did give a couple of nice parties, now has given up - is involved in affairs of this - she chides me for my lack of interests - I do point out to her, she is in her 60's to my 80's - born into an affluent New York family,her father I believe had something to do with radio - born around 1950 in New York City she hung around Washington Square park as a teenager in the 60's. Yesterday the nyt times drew attention to a book by Joyce Johnson, a memoir, Minor Characters - a bit older than my neighbor - 21 in 1957 when she got involved with Kerouac of later On the Road fame - and also gives an excellent description of Washington Square in the 1960's - the Beats.

When we returned from Geneva to New York in 1962 as per the wishes of my then husband, we came to live on the Upper East Side - social climber territory. My children were young and then I fell in love with nearby Central Park - a total, wonderful, wild mess in those days - considered a crime scene where few ventured. It was a crime scene. Growing up in the streets of Prague in wartime, my mother out of commission doing forced labor, relegated to the school for imbeciles and half Jews - an icy apartment, hardly any coal - I came to roam the streets and parks - and spending time at a wonderful friend, Marianne - a heated home, her father the Jew and her mother at home, cooking wonderful food. But the life in the streets has made me the tough - and yes also often angry - woman I have turned into. I grew up with a very early awareness of the concentration camps, the war, the killing - early lost all respect for HIGH CULTURE - also the enjoyment of that culture. I was a street urchin - to my mother's greatest dismay - she dreamed of me as a lady, the woman who would do it all - have a brilliant academic career, a brilliant marriage, brilliant children - a beauty! - well urged on by her I made a stab at it all - much blamed by her for my failures - told by many around me how much more I could have done with my talents and looks. My psychiatrist friend Edmund not long ago: You were a knockout - what you could not have done with your looks - well, for one thing my mother, luckily was insistant I use my mind rather than my looks.

Once again - totally off topic - no focus, no discipline - describing my house here. Until recently downstairs was a huge industrial kitchen - occasionally used by Chinese - removed for reasons unknown to me - nowstanding empty - used - by the Chinese - they installed a ping pong table, they do tai chi - I have joined them on the roof - should join them more, they smile and do encourage me.

Last not least there is the community room I have reserved at $75 for my June birthday party - there is a grand piano at times used by a woman - whom I - utterly dismayed by the state of psychiatry - geld fressers - hungry for money - do call mentally ill - I call her disturbed. A good looking woman - who has made attempts to befriend me - she is a good piano player and has a kind heart - yet her outbursts - about men flying into her room and beating her up - are not easy to deal with. Her sense of reality is off - by now I've met a number of such people, especially at the Catholic Worker - they want - need - your attention - yet don't have a clue as to who I am .

Much is being on this topic by people deeply involved with the problem - and also truly trying to help them to be happier - mostly of course these days with medications - that are so questionable yet I too must admit can be helpful. Often you hear the phrase: he/she is off the meds and acting crazy - and attempts are made to force people to take their meds. The reason people stop taking them because they make them gain weight and feel bad.

Many of them to avoid "the system" live in the streets - in the mornings while who knows how many rooms in the fancy hotels stand empty I find more and more people sleeping on the side walks.

At the CW they are offered a lot of cake and comfort food - a table where they can rest their head and sleep - at night it is the streets - women often abused, at times murdered.

Yes, there are a few model set ups - but many memoirs that I have read mostlyby people from rich families - end up in all kinds of horrors. In Dostoyevski's novels we can read about "the village idiot" - often laughed at for follies - but mostly it seems happier than in all the situations created in modern times.

But back to me in the 1960's in New York - I knew so little of what I have learned over the years observing - at first my domain was rather districted between - well I might get to places like Wall Street, the Staten Island ferry - knew really nothing of the areas of the Bohemians - the West Village, Washington Square Park - where many people I know now were hanging out as teenagers, or in their 20's - some of course also older.

I knew next to nothing about mental illness until I met Ari at Columbia U. in the spring semester of 1967 - in Middle High German two. For him it was a requirement in his studies of comparative medieval literature. He was officially mentally ill - and totally ignorant I believed I could help him - did help him - many of these people do have an excellent instinct for tolerance - I have a lot - a soft spot - and a deep wish to help. I have written in my memoirs about it. He was born in 1942 and died in 1998. Lived a turbulent life - at last making good money writing copy for Saatchi and Saatchi - famous advertising agency - left his 8th wife, a Chinese woman with an owned apartment on Riverside Drive with river view and also stocks and bonds. Me he caused serious trouble.

He introduced me to the American world of mental illness, he introduced me to the East Village where I came to live in 1973 . In many situations I have been the only with a driver's licence, knowing to drive - he never drove - and always an iron reserve in the bank - he had a friend on Avenue B - in 1967 dangerous territory - I rented a car, helped the guy move - the first of a good number of such situations.

Still back to the house here - the community room with the piano is used for many different occasions - community meetings, concerts, tenant meetings, all kinds of JASA events - a voting place - with collapsable chairs and tables it can be used for many functions - and it gives on a garden, very rarely used by anybody. I gave my 75th birthday party there - a beautiful, warm day in June - we all sat outside and did not use the room inside at all. Next to the room is also a functional kitchen - Chinese New Years was celebrated with much decoration and also lolts of good food.

My friends these days tend to upset me - in the nyt profile of man 107 - his advice - turn the other cheek. Perhaps that is the way to go.

It's beautiful weather - I may head uptown - library - park - my house guests - one still asleep, the other unable to commit - luckily I now have long gotten used to going to Central Park by myself - do remember the days - 70's? - when I strenuously would call people, trying to meet someone - now have long realized - it only causes annoyance - they are late, cannot find me - forget and so - forget it.

Yesterday - Molly came it turned out to be very laborious to find my memoirs that are digitally in the archives of LBI - Leo Baeck Institute - it took her great skills to find them - they are combined with my mother's memoirs - that had to be scanned, also some her hand written parts are there - finally we did get to mine, in very good shape - double spaced, very readable if you can find them, she did set up some link that she posted on my facebook page and also in this here blog - if any of you find it, let me know.

Then we went to Gesine Schulz - the once upon a time NY Goethe House librarian - 1983 to 1985 - then she had to return to her sick mother in Essen, Germany, had serious health problems herself - but has taken the greatest of pains to further my stalled? writing - cannot even call it career - but Gesine has tried so hard to put me on the map, she has created a website for me - Marianne Goldscheider - perhaps Marianne Landre Goldscheider - I am so bad at this - so quickly and easily get frustrated - hopeless.

Anyway, she is a much published writer - born once upon a time in Pommern - close to 1950 - no, of course she was not born in Pommern, her parents had fled Pommern and I think her father came to work in coal mines in what we call the Ruhr Gebiet - western German industrrial area - must have died quite young - Gesine, please forgive me knowing so little about you - you have done so much for me - so, yesterday with the help of Molly at long last I found all of your books that I can buy on Amazon - for 6 Euro and change - I would not have the vaguest idea how to buy something on Amazon - but perhaps next Friday we will try.

Sadly this exercise totally exhausted me - then I checked some of my undeliverable mail - I alwsys delete - now found a long list - I hope she deleted it - tried to figure out who thedgay was - this is my Thursday Toughts list that had 75 - some died, many switched to gmail and since I don't dare touch the list - some it seems keep their earlier email address - some don't - the once who don't no longer get my email - those who keep old address very occasionally check it - well, I've referred to myself as a blind hen - in German ein blindes Huhn findet auch ein Korn - all in all with the help of so many - my son, my grandson, Ken, Gesine and now Molly and probably some more I have found a few corns by now - Molly posting this as a beautiful blog - tumblr - Gesine at times with worldpress - now my grandson also with worldpress, Molly posted on facebook - did show me responses I get - forget how to get to those responses - cannot learn ipad, struggle with iphone - fall asleep get terribly old

Molly came at 11 a.m. by 1 p.m. I was exhausted then a rare moment Pim had a little time to talk - he is terribly busy helping people - as unpaid volunteer - then did fall asleep, walked to Washington Square, great accordion player singing songs I like - yes, I do like music, I like singing - simple singing - folk singing - it was chilly, walked past Cooper Union, saw something about exhibit about the Czech man who immolated himself in Prague in 1969 - much remembered - a man immolated himself in the common in Amherst, Mass. protesting war - he was declared unhinged, no trace of him - then also a Catholic Worker - considered questionable - I found the exhibit, photographs, by, about the artists commemorating him, not much about the Czech.

On to supermarket, got baby spinach mesnt for salad in plastic box, $2.99 - a piece of salmon $5.04 - a can of beer, a yogurt - came to $12 and change - there is less expensive food - takes more effort - home - Pim had mopped, they had left - some bicycle - wondering about my eye - computer, message from my friend indicating she was around, but she was not around, she was in Brooklyn - why not say so, I wonder. Also more and more people no longer call, only message - email - try to avoid contact with another human - I answered her - after a while text, I am in Brooklyn - I took the chance to write a long German letter - about all kind of things I avoid writing about on this here blog - lest I step on toes - German: ins Fettnaepfchen treten - an artist, I think Buys, or Buyes was his name, a German, had art cslled Fettnaepfchen - to step into a little container with fat - I do like all these sayings - and I may do already too much of that. Getting too careful gets boring - and of course some suggest keep a locked up journal and make sure to burn it before you die. That is what my friend does - it's too bad she will not share with me what is on her mind. Wonder how she describes me in this locked up journal - I've often pointed out - silence can also be very disturbing - silence kills - she sees herself more virtuous than I am - and so be it.

Enough - she now angrily tells me Felton reads what I write - maybe also tells her - she tells me antrily "he sends it all over the place" - well - that is what I am trying to do - and if only I ever had had a computer savvy person next to me - the "wife" who saves me from being indiscreet - who does everything technical - Paco used to say: I paint, I make art - someone else has to sell it - he had put hopes into me - and I found out how hard it is to sell art, writing, music - some find a good seller, he had Dorsky for a while who did a lot for him, then it was not enough, he insulted Dorsky on the advice of a psychiatrist, confront the man, he was told - and thst was the end of Dorsky - anyway - if the friend would not find reading anything I write a total waste of time (perhaps secretly she does) - she would find out how I struggle with - justifying writing and sending it out - in East Germany - that is after East Germany - people found out about all the Stasi had read - the secret police - and how many of their friends worked for them - well, I never have believed in secrets, never in privacy and do see virtue in sharing my thoughts. Off to the park. Marianne

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