#((apologies for going a little overboard with the au prompt. it will happen again.))

[frauleindermorgen]

conscious only of my own happiness

It takes two nights before you finally settle into the village enough to relax and enjoy a full nights’ rest. Dreams come to you readily, but you find yourself lucid in them, able to control your own body and interact with the world. And it’s a paradise. Everything you could possibly want is at your fingertips, even loved ones who have long-since departed from the world are here and whole.  [...] with a twist! for @atypicalsenerio

It isn’t a typical job for the Greil Mercenaries, though Micaiah supposes she can’t really know that having been with them for a little less than a year; though they certainly are not a typical band of their profession in her opinion at least, else they never would have thought to take in she and Sothe when they were mere stowaways.

(Micaiah had felt uneasy that entre boat ride, and for some reason Sothe being near her – telling her he’d protect her – had only made it worse. She’s thankful for the distraction being discovered had provided, and even more thankful they had been kept onboard at all).

She isn’t even sure why they should be making for the capitol of Daein if this medallion they are transporting is linked to a temple in Begnion of all places, but she can put the clues together that it has something to do with Commander Ike’s father. Neither he or Mist have been the same since Greil’s passing, and when Ike had told the party that he was in fact also born in that cold country the pieces had seemed to fit.

She just isn’t sure she wants to be in Nevassa, palace or no. It’s odd – moving through the streets, looking at how things have changed since the plague – Micaiah feels like there should be warmth or nostalgia welling up within her but when she looks all she sees are unknown faces. Sothe takes her hand and Mist and Ilyana ask if she’s been eating enough – Micaiah forgets about it for a time, here with her family is all the warmth she needs.

Titania and Ike are the ones who do most of the talking in the Daein royal palace as both seem to have an in with the General Tauroneo who stands proudly at the prince Soren’s side, the dowager queen a quiet but regal presence on his other. She is introduced as the group’s tactician though and does her best to nod and look the part.

(Briefly, her eyes meet with the crown prince’s then despite herself and she feels like she’s on that boat again. Feels motion sick. She hopes she does not let it show.)

Even after they are welcomed as guests the feeling does not fade entirely, and Micaiah finds it truly perplexes her. There is nothing wrong with Prince Soren, she reasons, why just as the rest of her countrymen revere him so too should she be thankful! It was Ashnard before him who had brought about the plague Micaiah and Sothe had narrowly escaped by murdering his father in cold blood; they knew that from official magic documents and the dowager queen’s attestations, and only with the birth of a rightful, innocent heir was the goddess’s wrath appeased. Micaiah doubts none of this.

She just feels lost. Lost in a palace she’s never been to but knows all too well.

“My apologies,” Micaiah murmurs, keeping her eyes downcast when she and Prince Soren meet again by chance outside the doors of the royal library, “I hadn’t meant to leave my chambers, your Highness. I merely…”

Thought they were in another wing entirely? Because for some reason Micaiah remembers sleeping in a bed of resplendent silk near the royal wing – ridiculous, she wants to laugh at even herself.

“I think I’m lost,” she says finally, and looks up slightly. Her hands are clasped together – a nervous habit she never quite got rid of, and for some reason her right hand stings. Funny. She’d never minded the cold before, but perhaps she should acquire some gloves if they are to stay here any longer. Micaiah had simply never thought to cover her hands before.

[a-flux-uchiha]

The Consequences of Tiny Ceramic Frogs

Gen, Includes Artemis, Dusk, Flora, and Sun. Plus 50 assorted tiny ceramic frogs. From my Modern Au. Artemis and Dusk take a ceramics class.

For March of the Zeldas day 12

“Are you sure about this?” Artemis asked as Dusk pulled her along. Dusk was technically her niece, but they were so close in age they were basically cousins, and while they had grown apart a little bit as Dusk continued with college to become a lawyer and Artemis finished it to work with a local theatre, they still hung out occasionally. 

“Little late to back out now,” Dusk replied dryly, shooting her a somewhat annoyed glance. This wasn’t really hanging out though, Dusk had somehow convinced her to go back to college to take a ceramics class with her. 

Apparently, Dusk’s parents were getting concerned that she wasn’t getting enough downtime with her classes, so they insisted one of her classes this term be a relaxing arts one. Dusk had caved and gone with ceramics, which had been recommended to her by one of her classmates. Artemis was involved because Dusk, despite intending on being a lawyer, got anxious in new classes where she didn’t know anyone, and with such an open layout like ceramics was bound to be, that’d just be even worse. 

So Artemis, the cousin with the most amount of free time due to her flexible theatre schedule, had also signed up for the class. 

Sure, Artemis had plenty of hobbies, but after a disastrous teenage experience with embroidery she sometimes swore her fingers still hurt from, she avoided any potentially hazardous art hobbies. Ceramics, with the copious amounts of fire and sharp tools it involved, was definitely on the potentially hazardous list. 

“Some of these supplies seem hazardous,” Artemis tried again, eyeing the knife in the bag. They’d had class two days ago, which had just been a supplies information thing, but now was when they started with clay, which was the terrifying prospect. 

“Artemis you were literally juggling knives on your last play,” Dusk replied, rolling her eyes. “This cannot possibly be more hazardous than that.” 

“Yes it can, I was juggling very dull knives, and I practiced with rubber ones for months until I got it right. It was perfectly safe.” 

“And the time the floor fell out from under you unexpectedly?” 

“Not that hazardous, I landed perfectly well. That just happens sometimes, I was kind of expecting it.” 

“You got hit in the head by a trombone in the orchestra and got a concussion.” 

“Full accident and the trombone apologized and paid for treatment.”

Dusk just gave a loud sigh and gave it up. They were here anyway. Now Artemis had to try and use these hazardous materials. Horrifying. 

“Dusk look it’s so cute,” Artemis presented her tiny clay frog to her, not deterred even when Dusk glared at her for interrupting her wheel throwing. “Flora will love it.” 

“Tell my sister yourself,” Dusk huffed, eyeing the frog for a bit before going back to her wheel. “Maybe make a few if you plan on trying to have one in your house. She’s going to steal them all.” 

“They’re so cute,” Artemis marveled quietly, taking her tiny frog back to her seat. Now to make at least four more. As backup if Flora stole them. 

Maybe four wasn’t enough. She’d make as many as she had the attention span for. If she went overboard she could always just let the theatre use them as prompts, or hand them out to her other nieces. Maybe Sun could put one in the store she worked at. Or give one to her boyfriend. 

“I think you went overboard on the tiny frogs,” Dusk commented, staring in what might be horror but Artemis chose to interpret as amazement at her army of tiny frogs. 

“It’s my clay, I can do what I like with it.” 

“Yeah, well, maybe make a habitat for all of those frogs so you don’t have to carry them home individually. A box or something maybe. Can you even tell these apart?” 

“Yes, I made them all unique,” Artemis said, picking one up, eager to show her. “This one is Sir. He serves this one, who’s a princess. She knighted him.” 

“Oh no, you made up stories for them?” Dusk sounded like she was despairing over Artemis’ creativity. Too bad for her, she didn’t need to hear all about the drama with Sir and his secret girlfriend who didn’t like the princess and wanted to assassinate her. 

“Artemis I meant a bowl or shelf or something to hold all of your frogs, not a castle.” 

“You’re just jealous,” Artemis said, setting one tiny frog into the castle to check size again. Perfect. They fit in all of the tiny rooms. Plus there were two sides that fit together. Dusk was just jealous she couldn’t make things that were this cool. She was only making mugs and other boring stuff like that. 

“It is going to take forever for you to glaze that,” Dusk warned her, and Artemis shrugged. She knew that. She had accepted that it would take ages to paint everything with glaze. That was fine, it would be worth it to have tiny painted frogs in their tiny castle. Or not so tiny castle. 

“I’m going to have to use this mug for more than coffee if you continue,” Dusk despaired quietly, shaking her head at the mug in question. “You and your new tiny frog obsession are going to make me turn to drinking.” 

“How would you appreciate the glory of this tiny fat frog if you’re drunk,” Artemis asked innocently, showing off the tiny fat frog in question. Flora had sent her a video of a tiny round frog squeaking and now she had several tiny fat frogs. 

Dusk just groaned. 

“Wow Artemis, you’re really dedicated with the tiny frogs,” one of her classmates remarked, eyeing the army of bisqued frogs in front of her with trepidation. “What are you planning on doing with glazes? Will you Raku any of them?” 

“I wasn’t going to before, but now that you mention it,” Artemis mused, glancing up at the tiles for the raku glazes. They were very pretty, they would be very shiny frogs. Not food safe, but she wasn’t putting the frogs into food anyway. 

The classmate just chuckled and shook their head, putting their paintbrush down. “Well, if you want it, I’m done with this raku glaze, you can use my brush.” 

“Oh, thanks, I will.” Artemis started sorting out her frogs by how she wanted to paint them. The royal froggies could be the Raku ones. It’d set them apart. 

“Artemis,” Sun said as Artemis brought home her first box of tiny frogs. “I think you have a problem.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Artemis said, contemplating if she should arrange the royal froggies so they were protected by the guard froggies, or if she should let them mingle with the common froggies. There were assassinations to worry about. 

“Artemis that’s thirty little frogs. Dusk said you have even more of them. Why do you have so many tiny frogs.” 

“Because they’re adorable and I cannot resist making more. Their castle isn’t done yet, you should see that when it’s done.” 

“Dusk has sent me pictures, I already fear what will become of your room.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Sun just huffed, shaking her head. There would be no convincing her twin that there was a problem. They were cute, but thirty was a bit much. 

“So how does Sir solve this problem?” Flora asked, absolutely fascinated by the story Artemis was crafting with her tiny ceramic frogs. 

“I haven’t decided if he takes his secret girlfriend and runs away to the kingdom of the rain frogs or if he tells the princess and she exiles the girlfriend to the kingdom of the rain frogs. It’s a love triangle incident.” 

“What if the girlfriend secretly falls in love with the princess and realizes she doesn’t want to assassinate her anymore?” Flora proposed, nudging the girlfriend in question closer to the princess. “Then everyone’s happy and no one is sent to the kingdom of the rain frogs.” 

“Oh that’ll work,” Artemis decided, scribbling that down in her notebook. “Then they can all live happily ever after. Excellent ending.” 

“Soooo,” Flora said a second later. “Can I have one?” 

“That would make it uneven. You can have two. Just not Sir, the princess, or the girlfriend.” 

“What if I take the king and then they can rule together,” Flora suggested, scooping up the king and one of the outlying rain frogs. “These two eloped, ran away after the king met them on a diplomatic mission and fell madly in love.” 

“Excellent. That leaves the throne available for the princess to take it.” Artemis set the tiny princess frog into the throne seat, setting Sir into her previous seat, and putting the girlfriend on the other side in the queen’s throne. “What about the queen?” 

“She eloped too with a commoner in the rain frog kingdom, she and the king left in the same trip. But she just stayed in the kingdom instead of running away, so she’s just chillin with her new wife.” Flora picked up the queen frog in question and set her next to one of the rain frogs. 

“The rain frogs must be very attractive to the royals,” Artemis said, snorting. The two weren’t the only ones to have eloped with a rainfrog, the prince did too. As did the princess’ cousin. 

“They just look so cute together,” Flora said, which was definitely true. They were very cute together. Artemis definitely didn’t regret doing the ceramics course, even if everyone else regretted letting her do it. 

[seokmingiggles]

lan’s request faqs.

Hello! I figured I would compile a list of possible questions you may have regarding submitting a request.

* denotes a new addition or updated answer to this list.

What kind of scenarios will you write for?

If you’ve already read my request guidelines here but are still uncertain, you can message me your potential thought! I’m happy to help shape your idea. A general guide is I am okay with writing angst or fluff, but not smut. Suggestive elements in prompts are okay too, although I can’t say I’m very strong at writing them.

I’ve submitted a request, now what? How long will it take to be written?

It may depend on your request! I try to complete them in the order in which I receive them. If for some reason I need to do research for your prompt, this may increase the amount of time it takes for me to write (such as an au I’m unfamiliar with). A general note is that it is unlikely that your request will be posted on the same day as your submission, even if it may be a short one. An important note is I will only work on your request if I feel inspired. This means I may not touch it for days or even begin it for a little while. All I ask is for your patience, please.

What kind of formats will you accept for requests?

I’m open to drabbles, one-shots, or bulleted scenarios. It is very unlikely that I will turn your request into a series as I am infamous for not finishing works with multiple parts. If you’d like, you can specify your preferred format in your request; this will also likely impact the length of your work (say, if you ask for a fluffy drabble compared to a detailed one-shot).

How long will my request be?

Again, it will most likely depend on the prompt you send to me. I will generally try to make one-shots close to/a minimum of 1k words, but if it’s a more detailed ask then there’s a high chance I’ll go overboard and write more than that. Drabbles and bulleted scenarios will be significantly shorter, typically less than 1k. If you’d prefer a shorter piece compared to a more lengthy one, keep the format in mind in your request!

Am I guaranteed a written work after I submit my request?

The short answer is no. There is, however, a very high chance that I will write what you ask of me. If I’ve stumbled into some challenges of coming up with a plot for your request, I will message you with my concerns and we can either come up with some alternative or you can cancel your request. If you are asking me anonymously, then I will have no way of contacting you, and your ask will sit in my inbox indefinitely as I may move forth to a different request.

Are there any aspects of my request that you may change when writing it?

The short answer is yes. The most common situation where I won’t include something you request of me is a minor detail that may not fit with the plot I’ve chosen (this is more for one-shots) or a super-specific trait of the reader that I may not include to keep the role more broad. Another situation may be is if I receive two very similar requests, I may change one of them up content-wise, but typically not member-wise. Finally, while this hasn’t happened to me yet, if for some reason there is an aspect of your request that I am uncomfortable about writing, I will with no doubt decide to not include it in the final piece.

How many requests can I submit? Is there a limit?

These are both good questions! Technically, there is no limit while my request status remains open. I would, however, like you to check the bottom of my masterlist under my in the works section to see how many active requests I have at the moment. If it’s an older one I’ve received, there’s a chance you’ll also be able to see the member it’s for and possibly the genre and formatting type too. If there are already multiple pending requests and you’d still like to send in a few different prompts, keep in mind it may take me a while to reach them.

What happens if I send a request when you’re not taking them?

I get it, it happens. You don’t have to apologize! If you didn’t realize that my requests are closed and you submit a prompt anyways, or if you’re just enthusiastic about an idea and you want me to hear it, chances are that I’ll still read what you send me. However, I may not fulfill it, certainly not while the status remains closed. I won’t be annoyed if you send me a request in this context, but please do note that it may be a while until you read what I write, if I write it.

* Is there anything that you absolutely will not write?

This is an incomplete list and can be added to at any point. As of now, it is safe to say that I will not write anything with significant triggers (such as eating disorders, self-harm, major illness, major violence, etc.). I shall also include that I do not feel comfortable with requests regarding pregnancy or infidelity. I am also not the strongest at writing wedding/marriage fics as well, so I would recommend that you also avoid these topics.

As a small note, if you ask me a request off of anon I will tag you in the finished post. If you do not wish to be included publicly, I will only say that “anon has requested...” although it may or may not result in you finding your story.

On another note, please only submit your request once. Unless you’re having technical difficulties and are unsure if it was delivered, only once is necessary! I promise you I’ve seen it.

If you still have any further questions or concerns, you can reach out! I’m happy to elaborate if need be.

Thank you for reading my works and for trusting me with your prompt! :)

[list last updated on Feb. 24/21]

[arts-n-anarchy]

Any number for errorink?

Hi!

I want to apologize for having this ask sit in my inbox for about a week, I had a slump where I felt like I couldn’t bring myself to complete the prompt (I went a little overboard on it, it’s LONG).

I do want to say, however, that I am very happy with it! I tried some new things and I was a little unsure how they would turn out, but I read over it and I think it worked out well. This *may* not be my best work, but here ya go!

Error x Ink- You owe me. (80)

Word count: 1265

This was the nastiest fight that had broken out in the multiverse for some time.

It had started in Swapfell, and then made its way to the Omega Timeline. Core Frisk was forced to evacuate the AU and send the inhabitants to Outertale as a safe space.

The entrances to Outertale were chained and barred, and there was a bubble of magic cast on the area that were resistant to portals. They all fled to Asgore’s castle and packed themselves into the throne room to keep a roof over their heads if the worst were to come. The outcodes were shaking and friends hugged each other for dear life while a crash could be heard from several AUs away.

“Backing down, eh?” Nightmare taunted, echoing in the empty space. “We’re just getting started. Don’t tell me you’re tired now.”

Dream was kneeling on the ground several feet away from him, gritting his teeth. His skull was bruised and scraped, and the corner of his mouth trickled specks of golden blood. His arms were slashed and his legs were like jelly, rendering him powerless at the hands of his brother.

“I… I won’t give up that easily.” Dream’s body shook as he pushed himself off the ground, backing himself up so that he was standing next to Ink and Blue. They were equally hurt, with their clothes tattered and wounds bleeding. They breathed heavily, summoning Gaster Blasters out of thin air. They aimed for Nightmare and his band of henchmen behind him and fired.

Nightmare vanished and reappeared only inches away from the blast. He snickered and snapped his fingers, eagerly watching as a stampede of Sanses charged towards the trio.

Dream seized his staff and charged at Dust. He dodged a jab at his head with a knife and swung his leg at his feet, leaving his opponent on the ground. Horror was not too far behind, swinging his axe at Dream’s stomach. Dream hopped to the side and kicked him in the shoulder, knocking him over.

He turned to look at Blue, who was holding Killer off. He had narrowly missed getting his leg chopped off, and managed to grab Killer’s arm. He twisted sharply, and Killer shrieked in pain. He flopped onto the ground and Blue took the knife out of his hand.

Meanwhile, Ink was struggling to fend off Cross, miscalculating his dodges and underestimating the size of Cross’s knife. It was several feet long and the blade was twice as thick as a traditional kitchen knife. Cross was very skilled at using it, since he had used it to control his enemies by slashing through their soul. Second only to Nightmare, he was the most intimidating enemy to the stability of the multiverse.

Cross had pinned Ink to the ground with his feet on his legs and hovered his knife over Ink’s head. Ink was grabbing onto Cross’s arms, panting and sweating. Cross lifted his foot up and tried to slam it onto Ink’s shoulder in an attempt to disarm him, but he shuffled to the side at the last second. Cross huffed and held Ink down again.

Ink averted his attention to Dream and Blue, who were now being attacked by Nightmare. They were cutting off tendrils to no avail (since they could grow back) and were almost hoisted in the air. They were merely avoiding Nightmare’s blasts and their movements were slowing.

Broomy was a little more than an arm’s length away from Ink, some of the bristles ripped out and the tip breaking off. Keeping one eye on Cross, he stretched his arm out in an attempt to grab it. His fingers clawed at the ground mercilessly while Cross steadied himself. Cross raised his knife slightly and plunged the blade down onto Ink’s arm.

The blade met the bone and his ulna snapped inward under the pressure. He hissed and slipped his arm away before more damage could be done. Black ink spattered onto the ground and Ink snapped back to look at Cross. Ink was met with another blade swinging at him at full force, this time at his eye-sockets.

Ink flinched before the the knife hit his skull, so it slashed the edge of his jaw instead. The same black ink oozed out of the wound, and Ink’s eye-sockets flashed a dozen different shapes and colors.

It was then that Ink started to cough. Hard. His soul was slamming against his rib cage as black ink started to spew out of his mouth. He winced after every cough, unable to cry out or even breathe.

He kept coughing and coughing and coughing. A sliver of the paints had risen up to his throat and started to come out too. Rainbow ink spewed onto his scarf, and his eye sockets faded slightly.

Right before Cross took another swing at him, he was able to stifle his coughing fit. Ink tensed up every bone in his body and closed his eyes to prepare for the next debilitating blow.

A second passed. Nothing happened.

Two seconds passed. Still nothing.

He poked one eye open to see that Cross was gone.

How the heck did he leave so swiftly? Ink wondered. I probably didn’t hear him over Dream and Blue.

Oh my god! I completely forgot! Ink bolted up and looked to Dream and Blue. Nightmare no longer had his tendrils out, and he was kneeling on the floor.

“Fine. Have your victory.” He sneered, “But next time I’ll be prepared for your little glitchy friend to come out of your back pocket.” He snapped his fingers and all of the Bad Sanses teleported out of sight.

What glitchy fr— woah!

Ink’s arms were pulled up from the back of him and he was whipped through a portal that had formed.

The next moment he found himself in the Doodle Sphere. He didn’t know where he was at first, or even what day it was. His surroundings were spinning and his thoughts were incoherent. He took a minute or two to get himself up to speed and then turned to the person who had saved him.

It was none other than Error, and his hands were glitching uncontrollably. His face looked slightly worried, and his cheeks were a faint blue.

Ink was the first one to speak. “What… how…” He stammered for a couple of seconds until he got his thoughts in order. “Why?”

Error huffed. “I was gonna ask you something but I couldn’t find you anywhere. I heard Nightmare was in the Omega Timeline, so I…” he sighed heavily. “…I came there.”

“Did you fight Nightmare?”

Error nodded slightly. “We got into a fight the other day and I kinda wanted to get him back by not having the two wonderboys get beaten to a pulp.”

“And you fought Cross too?” Ink’s memory completely skipped over Error’s question because he was astonished that Error had actually done something to help him. He would have poked fun at Error a bit, but he was still lightheaded from almost dying.

“Yep. Saw you were on the brink of death, and he couldn’t look behind him.”

“W-why did you save me? You could have just left me to die.”

Error stammered for a couple seconds, turned his head away from Ink and pulled his face into his scarf. His body was glitching like crazy. He tightened his grip and slowly lifted his face up. He looked back at Ink.

“You owe me, asshole.” His cheeks returned to a faint blue color.

Ink chuckled. “Okay then, Glitchy. Whatever you say.”

[cruzrogue]

Perfect Party

#Fictober19 @fictober-event

————————————————————————

for fanfiction:

Prompt number: 15   “That’s what I’m talking about!”

Fandom (AU if applicable): #arrow fanfiction #olicity

Rating:PG13

Warnings/Tags: AngstyFluff

Summary: Continuation from prompt 14 College kids: Oliver and Megan (Felicity) become a couple and this is when he finds out her real first name as he tells his kids the story. 

Notes:(This became a monster… there was supposed be no angsty conversation but it happened anyway. I wrote to make another fluff piece but… Ah! Anyways here it is…)

~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~sp@ce~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~

Perfect Party on A03

  Cracking open another book to read. Oliver just gazes at where his tutor is sitting reading her own book. She’s plopped down using a sofa as a backrest as her slender legs are over an interior designer’s weird conversational piece. Her heavy long kneed boots are off to the side. She’s reading her least favorite subject of U.S. history as he is taking side notes as he’s reading his textbook of macro-economics. They are both bored out of their minds but they’re under a timer. These minutes belong to these textbooks and they have been both honoring this kind of system of studying.

Oliver won’t argue that since he first took in seriously studying with the help of the Goth girl he met in South Boston by a sidewalk in the late evening hour his grades have steadily improved. To this day she still adheres that she saved him from that lame party. He’ll never know if it was truly lame but he deeply doesn’t care. It’s the party that brought them together thus to him he has no qualms of ever knowing.

The little ding in the background goes off and he lets out a content sigh. He can’t help but watch Megan stretch out like a cat and he inwardly groans because they’re not at that stage of their relationship. She looks so damn sexy all the time and he’s learned that cold showers don’t always work because she’s now always on his mind.

“I’m hungry!”

He’s learned that she has a very vast appetite. As long as tree nuts are not on the menu she can have it all. “What are you hungry for?”

She shrugs but says anyways, “You pick, I chose last time.”

“Greasy or no?”

“Does it matter? You have full control of the pick. Even that rabbit food you’ve successfully added to my diet.”

“Okay, okay! So, I feel like a cheeseburger and some fries.”

He can see the moment that her excitement for meat comes to the forefront as she does this cute gesture of raising her hand in a fist bump.  

“That’s what I’m talking about!”

He just chuckles and it has her cozying up to him as her lips finds his. Mmm… this part of their relationship is gotta be the best. Every kiss they share is full of sizzling potential and they’ve never crossed any lines. For now, they are taking everything slow. She has this thing about slow burn and her explaining it to him was a doozy. Her words cycle around his mind as she’s making herself comfortable on his lap as the phrase refers to stories featuring characters who gradually and naturally fall in love or lust before beginning a romantic or sexual relationship. He won’t suggest to her again that their already in some sort of romantic relationship because it led to her thinking things through the first time and it landed him cursing himself as he lost out on more intimate moments. Yep, he shot his foot off with that mistake he learned not to do it again.

He holds her closer to him enjoying that her chest bumps against his and he knows she can feel how excited he is but she just doesn’t mention it ever. This is girl is becoming a staple in his world and the thought of him now graduating next year while she’ll still be working for her double major has made its presence in his psyche. She just too incredible and they’ve been together for over two semesters now.

The fact that he doesn’t even notice other females has been brought to his attention several times by his male buddies. Using his studies as an excuse he’s keeping more to himself and interacting on a down low with any college partying frat boys. Being honest with himself has been hard. It’s one of the things that has made his growth possible. It would put a lot of stress on his relationship with Megan if she were the sole reason for the changes. Because she doesn’t want to be his savior but he knows her well enough that she believes more in equality. Sharing burdens and stuff. Things he has learned about her through conversations over long noir films, studying moments, and these wonderful make out sessions.

Her perfect weight on his lap not only does things to him but feeling her beside him all the emotions he has deep inside have a way of coming out slowly and after all these long weeks together he wants to tell her that he’s in love with her. He thought about being cheesy a few times but she’d be so disappointed if he went that route. Not on the declaration of love but using time tested romcom samples that are overboard. He finds she has big tastes on technology but doesn’t fancy jewelry given by really anyone.

He landed up giving her signed poster of music groups she loves or that one actress she adores from her favorite show they watch. Buying her a convention ticket to see these people she can recite story lines was like he got down on one knee and proposed. It was amazing how excited she was.

One thing they’re both of aware of is their different social-economics and he is careful to not overwhelm her with family’s status. It would spook her away. It took a bit from him when she found he comes from a wealthy family not to lose her back then. Just lucky they share a close connection.

“Megan, you are such a nerd.”

“I am not apologizing for liking meat.”

He chuckles. “I meant the fist bump. That is such a geeky thing to do.”

She shrugs her shoulder she’s done a lot of other nerdy things she won’t apologize even if he’s just teasing. She shrugs her shoulders she’s done a lot of other nerdy things she won’t apologize even if he’s just teasing. “But you like the thought of me liking meat?” For the first time in their relationship she grinds against him and his eyes become so wide as he is flabbergasted at her forwardness.

“I… I”

“Is Mr. sexy pants mute?”

He nods still wondering what his temptress is doing. Her fingers softly messaging his scalp through the light cropped hair she seems to like. Gosh he’s even sporting scruff that has her kissing his neck since she told him to cut off the beard deep in December after he grew out his facial hair for no shave November. Keeping it trim to this day many months later. Anything that he notices or she out right tells him how much she likes or hates something has him keep to a beauty regimen. Not that he hasn’t had some little says in her own little routines. Like a certain fragrance he admiringly associates with her.

“We are on a break; I’m going to eat a juicy burger and what isn’t there to love?”

“Megan? That isn’t the reason I’m surprised.”

“Hmm… I need to confess something to you and I need you not to get upset.”

Just as quickly as he is aroused, he becomes paranoid that something is going to break this perfection that they have going on.

“As much as I love how you say Megan…”

“Baby I love your name.”

“It’s actually my middle name.” The frozen look on his face has her worried that he may think she’s lied about many other important things. “There is nothing else I’ve kept from you, I just liked using Megan and the way you’d say Meg or Maggie or any other variations just was so perfect but…”

He isn’t totally convinced. He doesn’t understand how she kept something as monumental from him. Everywhere they went he introduced her as Megan his girlfriend. She has yet to meet his parents but the name Megan has fallen from hips a million times conversing with family and friends.

“I mean in reality Megan is still my name.”

He pushes her off slightly and she moves so he can get up. “No!” He just walks to a window in his apartment. They always hang out here because she lives in a dorm. “To think some of your friends having to go along with this farce when they call you by your real name.”

“Oliver? That isn’t the case. I introduce myself to a lot of people as Megan.”

“Really? And how many of these people think about you? Truly care about you? Even dream of you? Simply as what your middle name is?”

She makes a joke of it, “My mother calls me by my whole name either when she’s really happy or annoyed with me.”

“That is supposed to make me feel better?” He is now really agitated. “You don’t get to make this into a joke. Here I am opening myself to you and I don’t even know your name.” He looks away from her. Not allowing her sorrow to change how angry he is becoming.

She knows she in deep trouble he is right and she played the whole name thing lightly not seeing it through his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“I would have continued calling you Megan if you have this horrendous name you didn’t want to share at first. Though whatever it is I would love it. Just because it’s a part of you.”

“Wow! I guess I’m a stupid fool I never put much stock into it but I should have and I am really sorry.”

He finally slowly turns to look at his girlfriend and it strikes him he doesn’t even know her name. She can see the realization in his face as he just stares at her blankly.

“It’s Felicity, Felicity Megan Smoak.”

If she thought the frozen look on his face before was concerning whatever is going through her mind is really a shocker.  

~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~sp@ce~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~

When Oliver pauses it has his kids on edge. He’s telling the story in a cleaner version of how he learned his wife’s first name. It seems telling his kids this as they wait for their mother to come home may have not been the wisest idea.

“Dad what happened?”

“Yes daddy, did you break up?”

The youngest being so innocent and not truly understanding relationships asks if they ever made up.

Oliver checks his phone and a text by Felicity telling him she’s running late. She finishing up from another conference meeting so he continues on with the story. She’ll be home soon.

~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~sp@ce~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~

“Felicity… Fe-li-ci-ty.” He just says her name one more time, “Felicity! I don’t get it. It’s actually a very beautiful name.”

“It’s a cheesy name. It means happiness, I’m a Goth girl.”

Oliver sighs he really doesn’t get it. She has been making him happy all these months. The name is perfect. Now that he knows the truth. As much as she’s been Megan from now on, he’ll always think of her has Felicity. What is the most important matter to him is how long he will get to know Felicity? It seems that maybe he had more emotional attachment to her than she has had of him. Maybe her tutoring him and having him mastering his academia is a thrill for her. She’s one of a kind who is he to really know what goes through that mind of hers? Only that he’d be devastated because along the way he gave her his heart even if he hasn’t said so its implied.

“I know your mad, I guess I really screwed up and I’m sorry.”

“It makes me wonder if I’m just an experiment. A fixer upper that you…”

Felicity looks horrified as she cuts him off, “Oh no. No! You’ve been nothing but the perfect dream. I’m always worried I’d wake up and you’d be over me. Falling in love with you was so easy.” She catches what she just said and her hand goes to her mouth. He is about to break up with her and she’s telling him she loves him. She can be such a fool.

“I couldn’t be over you even if I wanted to.” He doesn’t mention the whole falling in love that could just be faux pas said in haste.

Felicity aches now knowing that he doesn’t even think her declaration of falling for him is seen real to him. That stings. “I should go.”

“That is probably for the best.” Yet neither move. The air is thick with unsaid words as their emotions are crumbling with angst.

Felicity is a smart girl she knows if she walks out there won’t be a them any longer. The them that has been crafted over time. She sucks in a breath; she created this mess and she needs to fix it. “I can’t apologize enough for how my careless way of thinking of things in simplest of facts.” She won’t go without at least telling him how much she loves him. “It being a name.” She sighs as she glances at him and watching that he is listening gives her some hope. “I didn’t take to account the emotional side of all this.” Taking a small pause, “You mean the world to me. Oliver, I love you so much…” She tearing up. “That love is from all of me. Felicity Megan Smoak the daughter of Donna and also a father named Noah who I haven’t seen since I was seven.”

Talking about her parents is like pulling teeth. He knows it hard for her so this acknowledgement means something. She really is trying to amend the situation. It really is just a name. It’s not like he doesn’t know how clinical she can be in her thinking process.

“Noah is a fool of a man letting go of such a bright amazing girl.” He moves up to her just like when they met.

“Maybe I just wasn’t…”

“Shh.” He’s looking down to her, “His failure isn’t your own.” He wipes a few stray tears she has let go. “You mean the world to me too.”

“I do?”

“I love you.” He cups her face and finally kisses the one who has his heart.

Still having his hands on her face, she inquires, “Does that mean you forgive me?”

With a sigh his eyes searching hers, “Of course I’d forgive you. We’ll always see some things differently and there will always be fights that are bound to happen.”

“I don’t like fighting.”

He leans in to kiss her as he tells her the same thing.

She’s a little forward in rubbing her hands just under his shirt. “I heard making up is supposed to be…”

He stops her. They haven’t crossed that line yet and he’ll be damn if their first time is happening this way. “I love you Meg…” He closes his eyes this is going to take some getting used to. “Felicity Smoak but I’m still processing this whole name thing and when we take the next step it won’t be after an argument.”

She nods in agreement.

“So, what about some burgers?”

Felicity stops him from leaving her space as she now holds him to her as she raises on her tiptoes to kiss him.

~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~sp@ce~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~

As the door in the back where it leads to the mudroom opens and Oliver takes a pause as his kids are listening to a very clean version of when he found out Megan was indeed Felicity’s middle name. He looks to the newest addition sitting in the high chair just happily gnawing on a teeth ring. Oblivious to his siblings’ excitement until he hears his mother’s voice and all of a sudden his son a babbling genius. A pang of jealousy hit Oliver as his little munchkin doesn’t show him that kind of welcome.

“Mom’s home.”

Felicity welcomes her two youngest with open arms and gives them kisses than she hugs her eldest as she slowly walks into her husband’s embrace. It doesn’t take long for their youngest to disapprove and want his mother’s sole attention.

“Sorry, hi there handsome.” She’s kissing the baby as the other kids settle back down. She looks at the expecting faces and makes sure to look at her husband as she asks, “Did I miss something?”

“I was just telling them about when I learned Felicity was your first name.” She gives him a weary look. “Don’t worry it was the PG version.”

“Did mommy come off as a clown?” She regrets saying those words as her kids start to asking about clowns. She just meant if she came off sounding awful but now she’s denying any clowns were a part of the story their father told them. Oliver is just off to the side observing his wife having to explain herself ah yes those memories fill his mind as he has his lips puckered up. She sure can dig a hole for herself. As he recalls the true lustful events of that study session.

~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~sp@ce~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~

“So, what about some burgers?”

“Oliver? I am hungry!” She doesn’t wait for him to truly understand as she already hopping onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist as her lips find that particular spot that has him growl and that’s the purr of his she needs. He catches on quick as he has to keep them from falling as his girl is doing things to him. He unfailingly finds the perfect spot a few steps away to allow her to continue doing this most erogenous thing to his body as she certainly rubs herself on him.

He’s losing the ability to think because just a moment ago he was against this scenario and now his body pretty much told his mind to shut up.  He sinking down deeper onto the sofa she used as a backrest earlier.

There is lips and teeth and the occasion tongue and oh those moans that have both of them panting as they seem to be so lost in each other. Succulent skin that deserves the devotion as hands seem to roam and sweet nips upon each other’s skin only raises the stakes to needing more. Sweet words spilled as some gasps of warm sweet air spurs stimuli onto their hair follicles making for the most enticing shivers.

Felicity has been ready for this for a while, the thought of Oliver’s palms caressing her without barriers of any kind. Even pondering wet dreams of the friction she mostly thirsts for that only he can quench.

At first she teased him. Their relationship wasn’t formed the bonds they have now wasn’t there and it was easy to promise things like promiscuity. Fortunately for them It didn’t work like that because they found that it wasn’t just an attraction that kept them coming to each other’s orbit. They truly sought one another just to discourse what was actually happening in their lives. Until they couldn’t fathom not having the intertwined lives they were leading. Good and bad shared, memories of past conversations, voices becoming lullabies at night and waking thoughts of the other person in mundane tasks. They were falling in love.

It took a stomach rumble which neither could tell if it was theirs but they pulled away laughing. They were good. Though they pulled away from the other knowing that it really wasn’t the right time to go further. There is no hurry.

~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~sp@ce~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~

“Come to find out your mommy was very hungry.” Oliver chuckles as his wife actually accidentally demonstrates his point. She is hungry.

The kids try to follow their parents story but there are so many vague points they have no idea what actually happened. They just know that their dad found out what their mom’s name was and that was the end. There was kissing. More kissing. As they watch their dad pull their mom into another hug they know another kiss will happen.

[hcrofraid]

Rules:

HALLO THERE! Here’s my rules! They’re a bit long, but hopefully you can push through ‘em and we can get a chance at interaction!

1. Themes might vary with this blog. Although I’m typically SFW, I might touch upon dark topics here and there.

Things will be tagged! I’ll try my best, anyways. If you want something in particular tagged, please let me know. The format I use for tagging is, for example, tw: swearing.

I don’t have any triggers but I do ask you tag all of your NSFW content.

That said, I won’t do anything NSFW - gore is okay, though.

I’m of age.

2. I‘m a little selective, but otherwise - I’m open to canon, au, crossover, and original characters! As long as their muns rp literately/write para.

If it’s a crossover, I have to know the fandom and be at least a little bit confident with it. This is so I’m able to work with you, our thread and have muse for it.

Absolutely no godmodding. It ain’t fun, fam. If you’re not sure what this term means, do look it up. This includes powerplaying, metagaming, and other things of that nature. This applies especially in fights if they happen (I’m chance-based and hope that you are too). 

I can be picky with OCs. But rest assured, if you’ve followed me/interacted with my promo, I’ll always give your pages a read.

Please don’t be offended if I don’t want to interact with you (and please don’t try to guilt me into doing so!). 

As for following back, I usually take a week tops to do so - but if you’ve hit up my promo, I go through that eventually.

As I’ve said, I’m selective and as a result mutuals do take priority - but I don’t have to be following you for you to interact with me. It just means I’m more likely to interact with you if you’re a mutual.

3. Please don’t rush me for starters or responses.

PLEASE understand that I have blogs galore and my muse tends to fluctuate; this can mean I’m everywhere at once and can end up neglecting a blog or two. It’s nothing personal; you know how muses are! Additionally, life happens to be a thing.

Please note the mun deals with anxiety and depression - this might affect how frequently she roleplays.

Chances are, I’ve probably has seen that bit of interactivity and just haven’t gotten around to responding yet.

My roleplaying style being para/multi-para, I may take a while to respond. I hoard drafts like a dragon - it’s really just the motivation to write and ship those out.

Just a reminder I hoard all your asks too, even weeks later. If I don’t respond to it, I’m either keeping it for a rainy day, or just can’t find the muse/interest for it currently. If it’s been a month or two though, just assume it wasn’t working for me unless I’ve informed you otherwise.

4. Shippings? Heck yeah I’m down for the fluffy content, as long as they’re of similar age to my boio.

If I don’t happen to be interested, don’t force anything on my character.

I do not ship incestuous ships. Do NOT follow/interact if you do.

Sontails will not be happening on this blog either, sorry.

The ship has to have chemistry; I’m generally shipping trash, but if they don’t click, they don’t click, sorry.

This is a multi-ship blog, meaning there will be more than one ship without them conflicting with eachother.

If you want to ship and I already have a ship of your choosing going with a duplicate, please don’t hesitate to hmu! My ships aren’t exclusive and each character/relationship portrayal is unique to me!

Relationships are eternal until you deem otherwise.

5. Whilst I am of age, I’m not aiming for sexual content on this blog (and will not be dealing with fetishes). That stuff makes me uncomfortable, and I typically don’t recommend pulling it with my character if you’re interacting with me. Nonetheless, should it arise, I will tag it appropriately. Also, Tails is a child. So no.

6. About reblogs…

I am not a meme source, and reblogs clog up my activity. Please reblog any memes you find on this blog from their SOURCE. The exception to this rule is if there is no source; go ahead.

I don’t feel comfortable with Personals reblogging my IC or OOC posts, so please don’t do that. If I put something in the fandom tags for whatever reason (bar promos), you’re free to, though.

Please don’t reblog my art unless I’ve drawn it specifically for you or said you can. I either have that as do not reblog for a reason, or I am planning to post it on my art blog at some point.

A few times is fine, as it happens, but repeatedly breaking these rules will result in me soft blocking you.

I try to participate in reblog karma as much as I can, but always reblog from the source/a meme source.

If a post or ask is for you, you’re free to reblog it to save it though - but only if you’re an rp blog!

7. I’m a para / multi-para blog, novella if I’m adventurous and have time. Whilst I may roleplay crack threads with shorter responses, this does not apply to all threads I write. This means:

I write my replies as detailed as I can muster.

Short responses (such as one-liners) in more serious threads where I’ve written a decent deal can instantly kill my muse for that thread.

Whilst I’d prefer for partners to at least somewhat match my length, it’s entirely up to you - just try your best and make sure you give me enough to work with. ♡

If my muse happens to go nuts out of nowhere - like, overboard - don’t stress too much about matching them.

If para roleplays aren’t your alley, I’m unlikely to roleplay with you. It’s nothing personal; it’s just finding muse for one-liner threads is incredibly difficult unless it’s dash shenanigans. Anything else outside that is fine, though - we can still have fun outside of proper threads.

If you need further context on the AU, the link to it’s tag is here! Otherwise just ask me!

Tails’ AU is one I’m very proud of and very attached to, so please don’t force your headcanons about him on me. If you’re unsure how certain events play out in the context of his universe, don’t hesitate to ask me about them!

That said, anything that might take place on this blog obviously isn’t canon to the AU itself; I just like writing for this boio and it helps me develop his character. It’s all hypothetical.

Additionally! Don’t worry too much if the headcanoned relationships between Tails and other muses don’t match yours. Those are mostly just guidelines for how Tails would USUALLY interact with your muse. I’m open to altering these relationships to better fit our threads! Don’t ever feel restricted to what I put down; it’s mostly just for context purposes because, well, Tails is absent. I’m an IM away for plotting.

8. Threads typically happen naturally with me, but if you’re looking for interaction opportunities:

I’ll have a permanent starter call somewhere for you to hit up; honestly though, if you’re a mutual? Pls feel free to hit it up.

Starter memes are the BEST way to interact me because they just yeet a prompt at my face and really help me write starters. If you see me reblog one, send one!

If there’s a verse you’re interested in, please specify.

If you want to turn an ask into a thread, go ahead!

I may not roleplay with every starter I am given - I’ll do a ‘background check’ if you’re a new blog on the block. If I don’t feel your writing style/length works with mine, I might not respond. Apologies. ;__;

Please don’t write para / novella starters up for me unless we’ve discussed something, sent something, or I’ve liked a starter call. I really don’t want to leave people hanging if I’m not interested.

IMs are open to mutuals, if you want to do any in-depth plotting.

I also have Discord! If you’re mutuals with me, feel free to ask for it!

9. Guidelines on mains and relationships:

If we’re mutuals and we interact a lot, you’re welcome to ask me if I’d like to be your main!

Please note that MAINS fall into two categories; one pertaining to Tails’ initial universe, and those pertaining to alternates. Although the latter is plenty, for clarity’s sake, there would be one alternate Tails might default to.

Please don’t be offended if I deny, though; I typically want to pick those I trust to be my mains as well as people I can comfortably write with.

Not limited to them! I roleplay with duplicates galore so don’t be afraid to hit me up if you want to interact!

Pre-established relationships are a-okay in my book; if you have an idea for a relationship between our muses we can work towards, hit me up! I reblog those pre-established relationship memes every so often too. Romantic relationships link back to the shipping guidelines.

Also, friendship/family/rivalry relationships are EXTREMELY valid to me. GIMME’ ALL THE PRECIOUS BONDING CONTENT PLS. THIS BOY NEEDS FRIENDS.

10. If you have any issues, please let me know and hopefully we can resolve it!

Mun is actually super nice, so don’t be afraid to hit her up!

I am absolutely terrible with IMs and sometimes even Discord. I either respond quickly or days later, depends on my mood. Social anxiety tends to interfere with this - but honestly, if you’ve sent something, I’ve likely read it and just haven’t gotten around to it yet! It’s nothing personal; trust me! I just need a social breather every now and again.

Please leave me out of drama; I’m here to have a good time, as is everyone else, and it pains me to see people arguing.

11. It’s easier with a clean dash for me, so I’m more likely to follow people who:

Trim their posts.

Have rules and about pages! I always read those before interacting or following!

If you don’t have either of those, I’m likely not to follow you - so make sure that you do!

12. On threads…

If you’re not interested in a thread anymore, and would like to drop it, please let me know! I’d feel terrible if we’re both not having fun with it or if partners feel overwhelmed with the amount of threads we have.

Honestly, unless I let you know, our threads have no expiry date - so no need to worry about me dropping them without telling you. I can just be quite slow sometimes.

13. Mun does not equal muse! Anything Tails might say does not reflect on how I think unless I explicitly say so.

14. Know that if I follow you, I WANT to interact with you.

I literally couldn’t care less about follower counts. I care about YOU guys and our interactions.

15. If you’re OKAY with threads being set in Tails’ universe (and acting as his inverse counterparts), please like / reply to this post! It just lets me know I’m A-OK to shoot you asks pertaining to it, rather than the usual alternate shenanigans.

16. These rules may be subject to change.

Please like this post if you’ve read the rules! You don’t have to, but it’s of personal reassurance to me if you have.

[justsomebucky]

The Friendly Wager (Part 6)

Summary: AU. Reader and Bucky Barnes are neighbors and best friends. After yet another bad date, reader comes home to find Bucky with his typical weekend target. They decide to make a wager about dating, but is there more on the line than reader cares to admit?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 4,608 (went really overboard)

Warnings: language, lots of bad language, fluff, sarcasm, drinking, implied drunkenness, angst, regret, hangover, confrontation, stupid feelings are stupid yeah?

A/N: This is my submission for the lovely Kait’s ( @bionic-buckyb) 5k AU Challenge. Congrats on the followers, friend! My prompt was “Can you please come over so I don’t feel so alone?”

Second to last part! Tags are closed. I loved all your messages so much!

Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

The next morning, you awoke with a ridiculous pounding headache. Your mouth tasted funny and dry, and you knew you were still in your outfit from the night before. That also meant that last night’s makeup was probably smeared across your face and pillow.

Thank goodness it was Saturday. At least that would give you time to get over the hangover from hell. You groaned at the memory of what caused you to get so inebriated in the first place.

You win.

After seeing Bucky’s text, you didn’t reply to him. Instead, you conned Peter into taking you for some drinks.

His bar of choice? Red Room, another exclusive spot downtown.

Expensive alcohol (paid for by Peter) flowed for the rest of the night, as did Peter’s mundane chatter. The only reprieve you had was when you passed out in the taxi home.

You sat up gingerly, squinting at the clock on your bedside table as you wiped some drool off the corner of your mouth. Your phone was halfway across the room on the floor, as if you’d thrown it in a fit of rage.

Wait a minute…

Yeah, you definitely had thrown it in a fit of rage from the looks of it. Or, a fit of some emotion…the details were sort of cloudy at the moment.

You stepped out of bed, moving slowly over to the discarded device, but as soon as you picked it up (and it wasn’t broken, thank you OtterBox!) you saw the battery must have died.

The charger was back over near your bed, so you plugged it in and waited for the screen to light up.

When it finally came back to life, you cringed again. The number of missed calls and unread texts was higher than you’d ever seen in your life. Fourteen missed calls, all from last night. You clicked those first.

Three calls were from Peter (that made you chuckle, since you probably wandered away from him for some peace and quiet).

Eight were from Wanda. Why the hell had Wanda tried to call you that many times?

One missed call from…Natasha?

Oh god!

Your eyes widened as you remembered something else from last night. Natasha had been there with a couple of her friends.

You’d drunkenly gone up to her and offered her Bucky’s number in person, telling her nearly every sinful thing he’d ever said about her and how much he wanted to date her. Why had she called though? Maybe to make sure you had her number?

You smacked your forehead at the hazy memory, wincing as it added on to your hangover headache pain.

What the hell was the matter with you?

With another low groan, you looked at the last two missed calls of the night.

Both were from Bucky.

Oh geez. He probably called to confirm that he slept with Rosie, or to thank you for giving Natasha his number. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck…

You moved on to the dozens of unread text messages.

Most of them were from Peter, asking where you were, asking if you were ready to go home. The last couple from him were interesting.

Bucky texted me to say if I didn’t get you home soon he was gonna kick my ass.

Can you please meet me near the door so we can head out? I have a cab waiting.

There were texts from Natasha that you found just a little disturbing.

Thank you again! Sorry I missed your call. I tried to call back but no answer!

I’m going to ask him out tomorrow! Can’t wait! - Nat

Wanda seemed to have gotten the bulk of the text messages, replying to what started as you complaining about your date, to you sending her strings of gibberish with a lot of sad emojis.

I can’t understand what you’re writing, Y/N. I think you should get home.

Should I text Bucky to come get you?

Do you need me and Vis to come pick you up?

Finally, the last few were from the man himself.

Y/N, please get in the cab with Peter.

You’re not making any sense.

I’m getting worried. Just come home!

Ugh, you really mucked things up this time, didn’t you? A quick scan of your messages told you by the time you started texting Bucky, you were too far gone to type properly. At least you didn’t confess anything, like how you’d kept Nat from him for that long.

How humiliating…

You never ever drank this much, knowing that it always led you to make poor decisions.

At least Peter Quill wasn’t in your bed. That was a plus-one for your night, for sure. Thankfully, you were always good about going to bed alone. Stranger danger (or in this case nearly-a-stranger danger) was a real thing, and you weren’t having it.

With another groan, you found Wanda’s name in your contact list and pressed call, putting her on speaker.

After a few rings, she finally picked up. “Y/N? You’re alive then?”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, eyes filling with tears involuntarily. “I’m so sorry, Wan. I made a fool of myself last night.”

“You were just hurting, friend. It’s fine. You didn’t really like Peter anyway, from what you were saying when you could still type properly.”

“I know, but it’s not even just that. I’ll probably have to apologize to him later, but Wanda, I saw Natasha when I was out last night.”

“Oh, shit!” she exclaimed. “What did you say to her? Please don’t tell me you said anything about Bucky!“

“I told her Bucky lusted after her, then gave her his number,” you admitted, closing your eyes to try to stave off the stinging tears. “She texted me last night and said she was going to ask him out today.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry.”

Sorry? Huh?

“Don’t be. He’s wanted her for a while now, I just didn’t have the guts to lose my best friend to her.”

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line.

“Are you still there, Wan?”

“I’m still here, but I’m wondering why you’re a total moron.”

You opened your eyes, glaring at the nearest object, which just so happened to be your lamp. “Excuse me?”

“All you did last night, Y/N, was text about Bucky. Did he sleep with Rosie? Do you think he slept with Rosie? Do you think he’s in love with Rosie? What about Natasha? Did he still want Nat? Doesn’t he care about me at all?”

The only thing you could do was groan again, feeling utterly stupid.

“Don’t you see, you absolute moron? You’re in love with Bucky. I had my suspicions all along, but now this kind of solidifies it, don’t you think? That’s why you didn’t want to give Nat his number, and that’s why you don’t want to lose him.”

“Have you picked up the drinking where I left off, Wan? You’re so far off from the truth, it’s not even funny.”

“Am I? Then explain these texts: Wanda he doesn’t care about me. Bucky hates me. He’ll forget all about me. I can’t lose him, Wan! Not one message said anything like that about Peter. Not one, Y/N. You really love Bucky, and you’re scared because you finally realized it.”

That was like a kick in the gut. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I? I think you need to take some time and think about what…or who…you really want, Y/N. Before it’s too late, preferably.”

“Can you please come over so I don’t feel so alone?” you whispered into the phone, feeling like your heart was cracking. “I need someone to be with me today. I know if I’m alone, I’ll sit and mope all day.”

“I won’t let you be alone,” she promised.

---

We’re going out tonight! Just wanted to say thank you again! –Nat

You stared at the screen, wondering if your brain was still so muddled from your hangover that you were no longer capable of reading correctly. Surely, this newly received text didn’t say that they were already going on a date, one day after the whole debacle of the wager went down?

Boy, he didn’t waste any time, did he?

There was still no word from your supposed best friend after last night. There was no way you were gonna text him first, not after remembering what went down, and everything you may have said.

He was probably a little bit mad about the Natasha thing, but couldn’t he get over it? He told practically everyone how he felt about her. Steve and Sam knew…even Vis and Wanda knew!

He was finally seeing her tonight, and all would be well with them. Why did he have to hold it against you? What a baby.

Anyways.

You got out of bed, and the first thing you did with what little energy you could muster was grab a blanket and move to lay on the couch.

Wanda promised she wouldn’t let you spend the day alone thinking about your humiliation, but she still hadn’t arrived yet. You hoped against hope she was stopping for coffee and bagels or something. You could really use some strong caffeine right about now.

You pulled the blanket over you with a sigh, and flipped through the channels until you came across a movie that looked familiar. ‘When Harry Met Sally.’ Just what you didn’t need to see.

“Oh, screw you. Guys and girls can be just friends,” you yelled at the TV, throwing your tissue box at the screen. You clicked through some more channels.

It was like the world was laughing at you.

My Best Friend’s Wedding was on, too.

Another farce.

The best friend is about to marry this beautiful woman that you can’t help but like, while Julia Roberts tries desperately to sabotage the wedding because she realizes (or maybe just thinks) she’s in love with him. That was so stupid. Who lets it get that far? If she loved the guy, she should probably just go ahead and tell him.

When Bucky and Natasha eventually got married, you weren’t going to run up and make out with him to try to stop him. You wanted him to be happy, even if-

Your eyes widened, no longer seeing the movie on the screen, but picturing Bucky standing at the altar with Natasha, looking happier than ever.

You’d been about to say ‘even if it wasn’t with you.’

What.

The actual.

Fuck?????

Your hands got all clammy again as you thought it through. What the hell kind of thought was that? You pushed the blanket off your legs and stood up, pacing back and forth anxiously.

Was Wanda right?

Were Harry and that stupid Sally right, too?

Were you…in love…with Bucky?

Your heart started racing as you heard a knock on the door. When you swung it open, Wanda stood there, coffee and bagels in hand as you’d hoped for.

“Y/N, it’s been so long,” she answered dryly. “I promised I would be here, so here I am.”

“Wanda, get in here!”

You shoved your friend inside the apartment while she tried to balance the coffee without spilling.

“What the hell, Y/N? Careful!”

The door slammed shut behind you, and you turned to her with anxious eyes.

“Am I really in love with Bucky?” you asked breathlessly, trying to keep your voice down just in case he was across the hall.

Not that someone could hear you when they weren’t home, but in bed with another woman…ugh…

“Wanda?” you repeated, feeling like you might be sick. “Am I?”

“What?” She laughed, moving inside and heading for the kitchen counter. “Why are you asking me? I already told you how I felt about it, how I think you feel. Shouldn’t you be asking yourself if you’re in love with Bucky or not?”

“I don’t know! I’m so confused right now, and I just don’t know,” you rambled, following behind her, your hands wringing together. “He’s my best friend. People can be just friends, Wanda!”

“Calm down, Y/N. Let’s think this through, okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded, reaching for a coffee and taking a sip. “Okay, yes, coffee is good, thinking is good. Thinking is my best skill.”

“Over-thinking, maybe.”

“That’s not helping!”

“All right, all right!” Wanda held her hands up in surrender. “When you picture yourself with someone, settling down with them forever, who is it? Who do you see beside you?”

“I can’t ever picture it,” you admitted, setting the drink down. “I’m not that kind of person. I mean, I try, but I just…fairy tales are for children, you know?”

Wanda leaned against the counter, nodding. “Okay, we’ll come back to that. When you picture Bucky settling down with someone forever, who is it?”

You frowned at your friend. “Honestly, my first thought is Natasha.”

Her eyes widened a little. “And how does that make you feel?”

“You sound like a TV therapist right now.”

“Do you want my help or not?” she huffed, rolling her eyes and sipping from her own coffee.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Okay, how does it make me feel…?” You closed your eyes, trying to picture Bucky and Natasha at the altar again. “It makes me feel a little bit crazy.”

“You’ll need to be a little more precise than that. Explain.”

You took a deep breath, letting it out slowly to try to calm your overactive, extremely loud heartbeat. You met her gaze again, and you knew you could be honest with her. “Well, for one, it makes me want to kick Natasha in the shin.”

Wanda laughed. “And what about Bucky?”

Shit. You knew what you were picturing. “I want to grab his face, and plead with him not to leave me.”

She smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Is that all you want to do?”

You closed your eyes again, trying to imagine it. There was definitely more to the story, parts you would never let yourself picture before.

“No,” you admitted weakly. “That’s not all.”

“Could you picture yourself up on that altar beside him instead of Nat?”

There was no hesitation this time.

“Yes.” Your response was a mere whisper, but you couldn’t have managed a louder voice if you tried.

“I think you have your answer then, don’t you? I mean, you did try to keep Natasha away from him so you could keep him a little longer. Plus, I think, and this is just me observing from afar here, but…I think you purposefully sought out douchebags to date so you didn’t have to commit to anyone else.”

“I…really? You think?” Your brows scrunched in disbelief. “I thought I just had a type?”

“Yeah, you have a type all right. Tall, dark, blue eyes, and lives across the hall from you.”

“But he’s going out with Natasha tonight,” you groaned, moving back over to the door to peer out of the peephole.  There were still no signs of anyone across the hall. “He probably isn’t even back from Rosie’s, since he slept with her and all.”

“You don’t know that he slept with her.”

You made a face at her over your shoulder. “I do too! He told me I won! That means he didn’t make it through the whole date without putting the moves on Rosie.”

“Well, I’m not convinced. He could have forfeited the whole thing. And if he did sleep with Rosie, does that change how you feel?”

“No.”

Boy, she was just getting you to admit everything. If she kept this up she’d probably squeeze your bank card information out, too. You were just too willing to spill right now. Stupid emotions!

You chewed your lower lip, a new thought coming to your mind. “How do I know I’m not manufacturing these feelings because I’m about to lose him?”

“Do you feel like these feelings are out of the blue? I mean, really admitting to yourself, Y/N. Are they new?”

She had you there. Your heart told you the answer, and you shook your head no.

“So try to find him before his date tonight then! What are you doing talking to me when you could be out landing your Mr. Right for once in your freaking life?”

“Ahhhh!” you yelled, hands flying up in the air. “I am so nervous!”

What would you even say? Hey, Bucky, good luck on your date tonight, but oh by the way, don’t go on it because I love you?

Feh!

You looked at Wanda with terror in your eyes, silently imploring for answers.

She offered you a bright, confident smile in return. “Don’t be nervous. If anyone on this planet knows just what to say to Bucky, it’s you.”

---

Alone again, you got properly dressed, did your hair and makeup (but not overdoing it, you didn’t want to seem too weird), and were now pacing in front of your door, waiting for signs of life across the hall.

Wanda had disappeared right after her last pep talk, making you promise to not only stay away from alcohol tonight, but to not let Bucky out of your sight without telling him how you feel.

She told you one way or another, your relationship with Bucky was going to change, so why not make it the way you want? She had a point.

Your feet were getting tired from standing up with no breaks, but you didn’t want to miss him. Not knowing where he was or what he was up to was super weird. He hadn’t texted you yet today, either. You didn’t really go this long without talking, so something was definitely up.

Just as you were about to give up and go rummage for food, you spotted him at his door, finally, carrying a few grocery bags. Before he could disappear inside, you opened your door and stepped out, avoiding eye contact.

You had to make it seem like a coincidence.

“Y/N, hey,” Bucky spoke up from his doorway. “How are you feeling today?”

“Oh, hey Bucky! Didn’t see you there,” you fibbed. Ugh, could you sound anymore rehearsed? “I’m fine, how are you?”

“Fine.” He set the bags down just inside the door and then walked over to you, his blue eyes unreadable. “Y/N -”

“Listen, I’m sorry about last night,” you offered, interrupting him. You needed to talk first, or you’d lose the courage to speak at all. “I didn’t mean to get that drunk, and…well…“

“Why did you, though?” Bucky asked, his eyes staring into yours intently. “That’s not like you, Y/N.”

“I don’t know,” you confessed with a shrug. “Just thought it would be a salve for my personality, I guess, to help me make it through the terrible date.”

He shook his head. “This stupid wager wasn’t worth it, Y/N. Not if you put yourself at risk like that. You know I’d cook for you anyways, right?”

Your heart did that fluttery thing again. Maybe you needed to have that looked at. Between that and your stomach issues, you were a total mess.

“It’s okay, Bucky. I guess…I guess it doesn’t really matter now. You’re a winner, too, right? By the way, Nat’s excited about your date tonight. She texted me about it and thanked me again.”

Bucky frowned a little. “You know about tonight?”

“Well, like I said, she’s been mentioning you for a while now, so…” You forced a smile to your face, knowing you were chickening out. “So, she thought she’d share the news…”

“Yeah, I just…she texted and I- I guess I didn’t see a reason not to go…” Bucky’s voice trailed off, glancing down at his feet before looking up at you again.  

Was he waiting for you to joke about it? You had always sort of mocked his thing for Natasha.

In the end, you didn’t have the heart to make things worse for him. If he needed you as a friend, and wanted Nat as a girlfriend, then that’s what would happen and you’d be supportive.

“I think you’ll have a great time.” You gave a firm nod, and your heart clenched a little. “Anyways, good luck tonight. See ya!”

“Yeah,” he replied, his tone a little lower. “Thanks. See you.”

In a quick retreat, you turned and headed down the stairs as fast as your legs would take you, needing to get away from Bucky, away from this entire situation.

You didn’t wanna see him bring her home later, and shut the door on your hopes for good.

---

Saturday afternoon came and went, and by evening, you still didn’t want to go home. After all, Bucky’s date with Natasha probably wasn’t over.

You shook your head, trying to get rid of the thought and mental picture.

Longing was the worst.

Or was it pining?

No, those meant the same thing, you were pretty sure.

Either way, you hated both words.

These awful feelings ended up making you forget how to be anything but a wishful thinker. They robbed you of your ability to make good decisions, leaving behind only misery in the shell of who you used to be.

For fuck’s sake, when did you become so melodramatic? There was no way you were going to sit around all night pining for Bucky.

Instead, you spent the bulk of your day in Brooklyn, visiting the botanical gardens, then walking aimlessly to people-watch for a while.

You killed some more time by walking across the Brooklyn Bridge to Manhattan, then sat in a Starbucks near the office for about an hour. When you were finally out of things to do to distract yourself on short notice, you decided the coast was probably clear to return home.

By now, his choice would have been made, and you’d be safe to sneak in your apartment unnoticed.

With your mind made up, you threw away your empty coffee cup and headed for the door. You’d barely taken a step outside when you almost ran smack into a familiar person.

An all-too-familiar person, one of the last people you would expect to see anywhere but Bucky’s apartment right now, to be exact.

“Natasha?”

“Hey,” she said, a smile forming on her pretty features. “Y/N! Fancy seeing you here.”

“Yeah, you too. I assumed you’d still be with Bucky?” It was still pretty early in the evening. Dates that go well usually…end well?

Nat raised an eyebrow at you, shifting her bag closer to her body. “Why would you assume that?”

“Well, you had your date tonight, didn’t you? It’s so early…I figured…”

“You figured that I would fall into bed with him on the first date? Well, that’s sort of offensive.” She gave you a smile to show she wasn’t serious.

That miserable, crushing guilt returned anyway. “I’m sorry, Nat, I didn’t mean it like that, really. I just…in all the romance stories, movies, whatever, once the protagonist finds their true love, they usually just…get right to it.”

“And what on earth makes you think I found my true love?” Nat shook her head. “You watch too much TV or something, Y/N. Bucky’s hot, sure, and he’s really sweet. We went to a little restaurant in Brooklyn around six-thirty, but I was out of there by seven. Didn’t even eat. Bucky didn’t stop looking at his phone the whole time, and honestly, if I had to hear one more story about something you and he did together, I was going to scream.”

“Wait, what?” You blinked in confusion, moving to the side when more people started trying to get past you and Natasha on the sidewalk.

“He was totally distracted. Didn’t seem interested in me at all. I thought you said he was into me?”

“He- he was, Natasha, I don’t understand, I -” You were stuttering now, stumbling over words, because you couldn’t believe what she was saying.

“I kind of get it now, why you were trying to withhold information from me. I sort of caught the drift a while ago.” She leaned closer, eyes searching yours. “When did you realize you were in love with him?”

“I- I don’t,” you sputtered, still unable to make a complete sentence. “I’m not.”

“Recently, then? Oh, Y/N,” Natasha shook her head at you almost sympathetically. “Go home. Go talk to him. I don’t think New York City can handle much more of you two if you don’t. I’ll see you Monday.”

“See you,” you mumbled, still trying to process what she said as she flounced away down the sidewalk.

How come everyone knew you loved him before you knew?

Did Bucky know?

Your face grew hot at the thought of Bucky knowing you were pining for him while he was off sleeping with Rosie.

The walk back to Brooklyn was making you more and more nervous with each step. Natasha had said he was distracted; what if he had a different date altogether, like Rosie, and didn’t want Natasha because you’d handed her to him?

Was it a pride or ego thing? Was he trying to prove a point? Maybe he wanted to teach you a lesson?

Maybe you didn’t understand Bucky as well as everyone thought, after all.

As you got to your apartment, trudged up the steps, and went to unlock your door, there was a loud a click behind you. Bucky’s door opened; you knew the sound by now.

You shifted your bag on your shoulder and turned to look.

Bucky was standing in his doorway, eyes wide. “Y/N. Hey…where have you been all day? I’ve been looking for you.”

“I, uh…I was playing tourist. My phone’s been off. I went to the botanical gardens, and then-”

“That sounds nice,” he interrupted, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked super uncomfortable and you couldn’t blame him.

You’d made a complete mess of your friendship in just a couple of days.

“Have you eaten dinner?”

“Nope.” Where was he going with this?

“C-can you…uh…Can you come over? I’m feeling pretty shitty and I don’t want to be alone.”

Ah. That sounded awfully familiar. Those were some of the same words you’d said to Wanda this morning, after realizing that Bucky was the cause of and solution to all your personal problems.

He was probably going to have The Talk with you, about how he was just not into you, and how wrong you’d been about Natasha, and then he’d drop the bomb and tell you all about his love for this mystery girl he’d been texting during his date.

It was probably Rosie.

Your stomach twisted in knots again. He had fallen for Rosie, hadn’t he?

He’d warned you - he’d suggested that maybe Rosie would be the one to make him change his ways.

What had you done?

“It’s been a rough day,” he added dejectedly, letting his hand fall to his side. “Saturdays are supposed to be better than this, right?”

Rough day? Was it realizing Nat wasn’t all he wanted? Or did something happen with Rosie?

The pain in your stomach got worse, and this time it was coupled with anxiety. That happened a lot around him anymore. “I don’t know, Bucky, I’m kind of tired, so I-“

“Please? Just for a bit. I really want to talk to my best friend.”

His pleading expression made all your protests disappear. Friends..that’s what you were, and that’s what you’d stay. As long as you didn’t lose him…

“Okay,” you agreed softly. “Just for a little bit.”

He nodded, then opened the door wider, silently inviting you inside.

You took a deep breath, then a few hesitant steps forward.

---

Part  7

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[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: Looking Forward

Author: @komaedakun / @givemerockruffs

For: @procrastination-hell

Rating/Warnings: nothing explicit just some..making out I guess// read the author’s notes for any other “warnings” I suppose ^^

Prompt: “Hinata’s wife dies, but Komaeda helps him move on.”

Author’s notes:  I hope you’re ok with slight hinanami…This is a no-despair, no-talent (but some do have jobs that feature their talent), modern au (I think) in which Hinata lost Chiaki in a shooting, Komaeda lost Izuru to suicide, and the two old college friends (now in their 30s) reconnect due to their tragic experiences.

I had tons of fun writing this (I may have went a bit overboard)!!! I hope you like it! ;v; (also I feel like I should mention that Izuru and Hinata are unrelated in this! and it’s also more them helping each other rather than just Komaeda helping Hinata//)

Enjoy!

    When he lost Chiaki, it felt like his whole world ended. Like it completely stopped.  This was no exaggeration – it’s just how it really, truly felt.

    Souda was the first to apologize to him after it happened.

    “Losin’ my wife…,” he’d said.  “‘Can’t imagine what that’d do to me, man…I’m so sorry.”

    It wasn’t a gradual thing, either.  It happened out of nowhere, all at once.  There was a shooting at the mall out in the city – a man came in with a gun and just started…shooting.  She’d probably hesitated, the way she always did.  She’d always moved slowly – too slowly.  

    Hinata didn’t really know the whole story, but he didn’t actually want to know any more.  He’d briefly heard about it on the news while it was happening, but he turned the TV off the second he realized that his wife and friend were there.  She was with Tsumiki.  

    When the nurse came back and broke the news to him, they both cried – hard.  Hinata wished he’d been there.  He was convinced he could’ve done something.  Like he’d be any more in control in the situation than anyone else.  He was glad Tsumiki was okay, at least – though she was probably scarred for life.

    After it happened, he felt utterly alone, despite all his friends’ kind words and embraces.  Nothing could console him, it seemed.  It felt like nothing would ever be okay again.  He wouldn’t go out for any reason except work and to go to the supermarket.  That was it.  He was terrified to go anywhere else, really.

    About 4 months passed after Chiaki died when Hinata received a phone call.  It happened midday, but he was still laying in bed, simply staring at the ceiling.  When his phone rang, he sighed heavily and swept it off the nightstand beside him.

    Unknown caller.Hinata blinked at the screen, debating whether or not to answer for a moment.  He picked up.

    “Who’s this?”

    “Hinata-kun?  Is that you?”

    “Huh?”  The voice sounded oddly familiar.  Hinata’s eyebrows furrowed.  “Who is this?”

    “Ah, my mistake.”  The person on the other line laughed softly.  “Um…It’s Nagito Komaeda.  From college?  Hope’s Peak?  I don’t expect you to remember me, but…”

    Oh.  Yes, he remembered Komaeda.  They were friends in college – best friends, even.  He wondered whatever happened to that.

    “Oh,”  Hinata said aloud.  “Hi!  Ah, how’d you get my number, exactly?”  He was happy to receive a call from an old friend, yes, but he was honestly wondering about how Komaeda obtained his phone number.

    “I heard your friend, Souda, talking about you at the café in town!  I work there.  ‘Turns out I work fairly close by to where you guys live…Souda is a regular, but I never knew that you knew one another; I asked him for your number.  I’m sorry, I hope that’s okay.”

    “Yeah?  Oh, yeah, that’s fine…”  Hinata sat up in the bed.  Of course; Souda wasn’t exactly quiet about…anything that he did.  Hinata briefly wondered who his friend had been talking to about him.

“Okay,”  Komaeda replied slowly.  “That’s good…well, anyway, he seemed to feel really bad for you,”  he went on.  “I had no idea you were married.”

Hinata felt his breath catch in his throat.  “Mhm,”  he forced out.  “I was.”

    “I’m so sorry for your loss,”  Komaeda said.  “I, ah…a while ago – around a year, now – I lost my boyfriend.”

    “Oh?”  Hinata swallowed, throat still tight, though that somehow made him feel a bit…better.  “I’m sorry to hear that…”

    “That’s alright!  This is more about you than me!  Ah, how long ago did she pass – if you’re okay with me asking?”

    Hinata took a deep breath.  “A…about 4 months ago.”

    “Wow,”  Komaeda breathed.  “I’m shocked you can even talk about it,”  he said.

    “It’s hard,”  Hinata replied, just barely keeping his voice from predictably cracking.  

    “Of course.”  There was a pause of silence on the other line.  “I don’t think it ever won’t be hard.”

    “Mhm.”

    “Anyway, I just wanted to call and offer my condolences…it seemed appropriate, considering our history,”  Komaeda continued.  “I apologize for calling out of the blue like this, I–”

    “Is that the only reason you called?”  Hinata asked, running a hand over his face.  “I mean, not to reconnect or…anything?”  Suddenly, going out for something other than work sounded okay.

    “Oh um, I mean, not really, but…do you want to meet again?”

    “We were friends in college,”  Hinata reminded him.  “I wonder what happened to that.”

    “Life moves on, I suppose.  Sadly.”  Another beat of silence.  “I’d disappoint you, anyway.”

    “Don’t be like that.”  Ah, yes.  It was all coming back to him: how Komaeda could be.  He could deal with it…probably.

    A pang of excitement suddenly sparked in his chest.  He sat up a little straighter.  It surprised him, really; why was he excited?  ‘Just the thought of a “new” friend, he guessed, but…it was strange to him why he wasn’t more than ready to hang up and never pick up a phone again, after the topic just forced upon him.  Had he really not had a decent interaction with someone in so long that it didn’t matter what they talked about?

    “We should…meet up sometime,”  Hinata suggested.  “And talk.  Just to, y'know, catch up again.”

    “You sound pretty upbeat for someone who just talked about something so tragic,”  Komaeda said.  “I’m surprised you’d get like this over someone like me!”

    Hinata went quiet for a moment.  He’d definitely need to get used to this, if they were going to “reconnect”.

    “‘Guess so, huh?  Sorry.”

    “Oh, no, I’m sorry!  That must’ve sounded bad, I’m–”

    “No. you’re okay,”  Hinata quickly replied.  “Not everyone’s really great with words, I guess…but…I get what you were saying, I think, I was just caught a little off guard, um – I was thinking the same thing, really.  Myself.”  He took another deep breath, glancing around his bedroom.  His eyes landed on the clock on his nightstand. 1:27 p.m.  “Um, so, anyway…does lunch sound okay?”

————————————-

    Lunch was arranged for that Sunday.  Komaeda called on Friday.

    On Saturday, Hinata talked to Souda about the whole ordeal.  The man came over per his friend’s request, and they simply sat at Hinata’s kitchen table together to talk.

    “You’d think I’d be turned off by it – the way he talked,”  Hinata told him.  “But, I dunno, it was weird… ‘cause I was talking to an old friend, you know?  And it was like it didn’t really matter once I stopped myself from crying ‘cause it was, like, exciting to talk to him again, I guess?  It felt familiar.”

    Souda nodded at him from across the table, eyebrows furrowed together.  “Well, man, I’m glad he called!”  The mechanic put his hands up.  “‘Seems like you’re happier than you’ve been in awhile just from a talk!  This guy could be good for ya.”

    “I don’t know if I’d say happy, just a bit uplifted, maybe.”

    “It’s pretty crazy to me how a person you haven’t talked to in years could just call up ‘n do this to ya, regardless.”  Souda chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest.  Hinata shifted his gaze from his friend’s face and noticed his heels were now up propped up on the edge of the table, and he briefly wondered how he’d moved them there without Hinata noticing.

    “Well, we were friends in college…”  The brunette rubbed at the back of his neck, looking back up at the other.

    “Yeah but dude, you’ve been in this slump for, like, quite a few months now – with good reason, ‘a course, but man…I was so worried about you!”

    Hinata gave a tiny smile.  “Well, um, it doesn’t just…go away, still.”  He cleared his throat.  “But, um, I dunno, I guess it just felt good to know that I’m not really alone.  I mean, I know other people have lost their partners in the world, but–”

    “Whaddya mean?”  Souda raised an eyebrow at him.  “What’d he tell you?”

    “Oh, he, uh, lost someone, too.  Recently.”

    “Yeah?”

    “Yeah.  So I think that’s part of it.”

    “Probably.”  Souda nodded thoughtfully, eyes on the ceiling.  “Well, man, I hope this’ll work out for ya, then.  ‘Could be good to reconnect with an old friend.  ‘Take your mind off things.”

    “Mhm.  Hopefully.”

————————————-

    He wasn’t going to lie – just trying to take his mind off of the fact that Chiaki was dead made him feel sad and especially guilty.  Sad because it was a reminder that she was gone; guilty because he was trying to forget her, but he really didn’t want to.

    He wondered if she’d be angry with him for trying to forget.

    The rest of Saturday went slowly.  Hinata really didn’t have anything to do for the rest of the day – he was still off from work, and there weren’t really any errands to run.  He kept on top of anything that needed to be done around the house, so it left him…bored a lot of the time.  He did not like the feeling.

    When Sunday did come, Hinata was excited.  Purely, genuinely excited – he felt like a child.  That was a good feeling.  He welcomed it.

    However, on his walk down to the local café at precisely 2 p.m (when and where they’d decided to meet), a sinking feeling formed in his gut.  He wouldn’t stand me up, would he?  He thought grimly.  No…I mean, he doesn’t really have any reason to…and this isn’t a date, anyway…  Hinata shrugged.  It was useless to worry; it only spoiled his good mood.

    When he arrived at the café, Komaeda was sitting, waiting outside for him on a small bench.  Hinata was only a bit surprised to find that he looked…absolutely no different than he looked in college.  He had the same white, reddish-tipped, unkempt hair sticking up every which way, same stormy gray eyes, same tall, frail figure and pale skin.  He was wearing a white shirt with some sort of red pattern on it, and a dark green jacket over it.  Hinata recognized the jacket.  Huh.

    “Hinata-kun!”  He cried upon seeing the other approach the front entrance.  Hinata waved a hand at him.  Komaeda stood up from the bench.  “Hi!  How are you?  You look just how I remember you!”  He laughed, grinning from ear to ear.

    Hinata smiled widely back at him.  “You look the same, too; it’s kind of amazing,”  he laughed, slightly, himself, and rubbed the back of his neck.  “I mean, I guess it hasn’t been that long, so it makes sense…um, I’m good!  It’s nice to get out of the house for something other than work.”  

    “Yes, I bet.”  Komaeda nodded, looking him up and down.  “You still don’t seem to know how to use a hairbrush,”  he teased.

    “‘Could say the same for you.”  Hinata smirked.

    “Touché.”  The white-haired reached out and took one of Hinata’s hands.  “Should we go inside?”

    Hinata looked down at their hands, blinking.  Right; he’d forgotten that Komaeda was kind of touchy.  How could he have forgotten that part?

    “Hinata-kun?”

    “Oh, yes, of course – let’s go inside.”  The brunette nodded quickly, and Komaeda glanced at him before leading the other into the café.  

    The inside was quaint, quiet and Hinata briefly asked himself why he didn’t visit this place more often, consider how close he lived to it.  More than that, he wondered why he had never run into Komaeda in town before.  He figured he only worked nearby, but lived farther away.  There were only a couple people inside the place, and no one except for the barista behind the front counter looked up at them when they entered, which Hinata was grateful for.  Komaeda released his hand after a moment.

    “It’s a nice place, huh?”  He said.  “I like working here.  It’s not really all that busy but even when it is, it always seems to stay quiet.”  He hummed.  “It’s a nice atmosphere to work in.”

    “Yeah.”  Hinata replied with a nod.  “‘Seems like it,”  he added as they took a seat at a tiny table at the far left of the establishment, right beside a window.  In that moment, he couldn’t help but feel slightly antsy at the realization that he was outside, somewhere that wasn’t his house or his job or the supermarket; he fiddled with his fingers.  He was a target.  Komaeda was a target.  Everyone in the café was a target.  

    “‘Something the matter, Hinata-kun?”  Komaeda was looking at him worriedly. Is it showing that much?  The thought that he looked as worried as he suddenly felt made Hinata more uncomfortable.

    “Oh, um, no, I’m okay!”  Hinata waved his hands in front of him, forcing a smile.  “Just, um, a little anxious.”

    “If it’s about this, there’s really no need for it!  You shouldn’t be anxious around someone like me, I–”

    “No, no, it’s not that.  This is, like, uh…this is the first time I’ve been out of the house for something other than work or getting food since…Chiaki died, and I…it’s weird.”

    “Oh.”  Komaeda nodded slowly, relaxing a bit.  “I’m sorry; we don’t have to be here if you don’t want to be here!  We can go to your house, instead, and just talk there…”

    That’d be a good idea if my house wasn’t a mess.  Hinata deflated.  He’d been slacking on cleaning for a few days, which didn’t normally happen; of course this had to be a time that it did. I don’t want that to be his impression of me…

    “Um…I don’t think that’ll work…”  Hinata looked away from him, feeling shameful at this point.  “Sorry, ‘guess I’m kinda ruining this–”

    “Oh, no, it’s okay!”  Komaeda smiled at him and he briefly believed it was okay.  “Well, we could go to my house, then.  If you want.”

    His house.  Hinata paused to think about it.  ‘Seems a little awkward…but…he did offer to come to mine, and that would’ve been awkward for him…I guess it’s fine.  He fought back a sigh; he was angry with himself but didn’t want Komaeda to get the wrong idea.

    “Okay,”  he said with a small nod.  “That sounds okay.”

    “Alright!”  The white-haired stood up from his chair.  “We’ll have to take my car,”  he added, as if it was a terrible consequence.

    “That’s fine,”  Hinata replied, warily glancing around as he stood.  

    “Okay.”  Komaeda shrugged, and went to the door, opening it for the two of them as they exited.  

    “…‘Sorry,”  Hinata said after a moment of silence between them as they walked to Komaeda’s car (which was a small silver Honda, he noted).  “You must think I’m nuts.”

    “No, not at all, Hinata-kun!”  The other laughed lightly, pulling his keys out of his jacket pocket.  “Really!  May I ask what exactly happened to your wife, for you to be so anxious, though?”

    Though he immediately felt tears in his eyes, Hinata felt…okay sharing with him.  There was still a pause of silence (that included them just standing there, Hinata looking around awkwardly and Komaeda holding the keys mid-air, not unlocking the car), though.  Hinata swallowed back the tears.  “She, uh, she was at the mall that got shot up in town.  Bell Mall?”  He couldn’t stop his voice from cracking, that time.

    “Oh.”  Komaeda’s smile suddenly fell.  “That’s…that’s really terrible,” he said, and finally unlocked the car.  Hinata walked around to the passenger side and stepped inside.

    Once they were both seated, and Komaeda was starting up the car, Hinata glanced at him.  

    “Uh…I get it if you don’t want to tell me, but…would you mind sharing what happened to…your boyfriend?”

    Hinata could’ve sworn he saw the man’s grip on the steering wheel tighten.  

    “He killed himself,”  he said after a moment, then smiled.  “That’s not really important, though.”

    Hinata stared at him for awhile, even as he pulled out of the parking lot.  He killed himself.  That’s just…fabulous.  He couldn’t help but wonder why.

    “That’s horrible,”  the brunette finally said.  “I’m so sorry, Komaeda.”

    “That’s fine!”  Komaeda replied, humming.  “It’s not your fault, anyway!  Don’t sweat it.”

    The brunette glanced away, feeling guilty for even asking.  He did ask me, though.  I mean, I guess it’s fair…

    They were mostly quiet for the rest of the drive; Hinata successfully made it awkward.  When they arrived, he glanced out the window and at the house they’d parked in front of.

    It was a fairly small, blue-gray…craftsmen, he believed.  It was lined with white – there was a white deck in front, in fact.  The door was a pale orange, which was kind of an ice contrast, and two large paneled windows were on either side.  It seemed…homey.  There were two potted plants on either side of the steps leading up to the deck.  Red flowers.

    “‘Coming?”  The other was looking at him, keys in one hand and other on the car door handle.  Hinata quickly nodded.

    “Yes, yeah.  Sorry,”  he added, and pushed the car door open.  The driveway, he noticed, was dirt.  There were also little to no trees in sight.  He didn’t bother asking where they were, though he was a little curious.

    “‘House’s nice,”  Hinata commented as he trailed behind the white-haired man, following him to the door.

    “Thank you.”  Komaeda laughed lightly.  “That’s nice of you to say.”

    The other merely nodded, still glancing around the unfamiliar area.  Komaeda had the door open in moment, and he followed him inside.

    They stepped onto a welcome mat the second they were through the door.  Komaeda kicked his shoes off and Hinata followed suit.  

    It was very open, and very modern, he noted, pleasantly surprised.  The walls were all white (with some paintings on them offsetting it here and there), the floors were dark hardwood, and there were wooden beams on the white ceiling.  It made for a nice touch.  They were standing in both the dining room and kitchen just upon entering; to his left was the dining room, to his right was the kitchen.  Both were tiny, but not so small that they seemed cramped.  The dining room table was small, circular, dark wood, and there were three matching chairs around it, a centerpiece of flowers in the center, and a small, black lighting fixture directly above.  There was also a gray area rug beneath the table, and a dark wood cabinet with glass panels in the far end of the room, presumably filled with China or…something of that sort.  The kitchen was brightly lit and almost all white; white cabinets, white counters, white island.  However, the stove (which was wedged between the cabinets on the left), fridge (on the far right of the room, on the corner where it led into a hallway) and sink (which was beside the stove, on the counter to its right) seemed to be stainless steel, and the counter and island tops were a dark marble, Hinata believed.  There was also a pale blue backsplash over the stove and sink.

    Directly ahead of them was a living area; a gray couch in the near-center with a tiny circular table with a lamp on it beside it, a dark coffee table in front of the couch with a couple candles on it, a TV on the farthest wall, some sort of cupboard to the right of the couch on the wall there.  That was all Hinata could see from the get-go.  There was very little decoration, and even less evidence that anyone even lived there.  It was still nice, somehow, though. Weird.

    All in all, the home looked like it had just been moved into.  It was virtually barren; he could only guess Komaeda was a minimalist of something.  Or he was moving.  He couldn’t have just cleaned it for Hinata’s visit, right?  He didn’t even know they’d be coming here.

    “Are you planning on moving?”  Hinata asked, and turned to him, genuinely curious.

    “Hm?”  Komaeda glanced at him, in the middle of hanging his keys on a tiny handle by the left the front door.  Hinata noticed, as well, that there was a calendar hanging on the right side of the door, marked with numbers too high to be on a calendar.  He’d ask about that later.  “Oh, no.  Why?”

    “It’s just so…clean in here.”

    “Oh, I just like cleaning!  It keeps me busy…I also like to keep it nice in case anyone should happen to drop by.  And – for my own sanity.  I lose things often, so I like to be assured that everything has a place and is in that place at all times.”

    Hinata was impressed.  “You do a really nice job of it, it’s beautiful in here.  Just kinda empty.”

    “Thank you.  And, yes, I don’t have all that much but again, what I do have is all in particular spots.”  Komaeda chuckled in that way of his and headed into the kitchen.  “Anyway, do you want anything to drink?”  He opened the fridge.  “I’ve got…iced tea.  And water, of course.  And there’s probably some coffee in the cupboards.”

    The brunette followed him, leaning on the island slightly.  He was still looking around, taking it in.  “Oh, uh – just water is okay,”  he insisted, smiling at the other.  “Thank you.”  

    “No problem!”  Komaeda hummed and walked over to a cabinet, reaching up and taking out a glass and then proceeding to fill it up with tap water.

    Hinata tapped his fingers against the marble surface of the island.  “Can I ask a dumb question?”  He said after a beat of silence.

    “Ask away!”  Komaeda replied, turning off the tap and moving to  hand him the glass.

    The man muttered a “thank you” as he took it.  “Um, what’s with the numbers on the calendar?  Like, not the date ones but the big ones that were, like, written on there.  I think I saw one that was like, in the 400s.  Do they mean something?”

    “Yes.”  Komaeda nodded.  “Something I’d rather not share; it’s a bit embarrassing.”

    “Oh, sure.”  Hinata broke his gaze.  “Sorry.”

    “Not a problem!”  The white-haired boy insisted.  “Don’t worry.  Anyway,”  he clasped his hands together.  “It’s my turn to ask a question.  What do you do for a living?”

    “Oh, I work in an office.  Nothing special.  I like, answer phone calls and stuff.”  He immediately felt embarrassed, sharing his boring old desk job.

    “Hmm.  Interesting.”  Komaeda nodded, as if it was truly interesting.  “What type of company do you work for?”

    “A window installation company.”  Hinata wanted to curl up and die.  This was very, very embarrassing.  Komaeda was probably a surgeon or a scientist or something.  He wouldn’t want to waste time talking to some dude he knew from college who asked people what type of windows they’d prefer over the phone for a living.

    “Ah!  That’s cool.  It sounds like a very leisurely job.  ‘Seems nice.”

    “It’s really boring, actually.”

    “So you’d prefer something with some life to it.”  Nodding seemed to be Komaeda’s thing.  Aside from laughing.

    “‘Guess so,”  Hinata replied, rubbing the back of his neck.  “What do you do?”

    “I work in retail,”  he told him.  “I’m a cashier.  Nothing special.  Pretty generic, actually.”

    “Really?”  Hinata tried not to look surprised.  He failed.  “With the house you have, you wouldn’t think that that, of all things, is…your job.”

    “I know…unimpressive, huh?  I mean, a piece of trash like me doesn’t need an amazing job that could be left for someone much more worthy, though.  I’ve got enough money to get by; my parents left me enough to retire, really, but I’ve got to do something with my time.”  

    He was rich.  Komaeda was rich.  He didn’t really show it.  That was weird, but kind of cool.  Cool that he didn’t take advantage of it.  Hinata felt privileged.

    The brunette chose to ignore the “trash” comment, as he remembered that was something Komaeda used to say very often in college, and it probably wasn’t going to do anything to say something.

    “Ah.  Yeah, of course.  But–I didn’t mean it was unimpressive, I was just surprised!”  He laughed awkwardly.  “Sorry.”

    “It’s okay.”  Komaeda waved a hand, smiling.  “So, anyway, do you have any kids?”

————————————-

    Talking with Komaeda felt therapeutic to Hinata in a way, despite how many times he said things that should be considered off-putting.  The brunette really, honestly, stopped minding after a while, and realized just how much he enjoyed his mere presence.  It was relaxing, and quite comforting to feel that way again.  Cleansing.  They talked until it was dark out.  Hinata got home at at least 7 p.m.  It seemed like, the longer they spoke, the easier the words came.  Instead of running out of things to talk about, they found more and more.     Komaeda drove him home that day, and this time the silence was more comfortable.  Hinata didn’t feel awkward in the slightest.  When he was dropped off at home, the white-haired smiled widely at him and waved as he drove away.  It left him in a good mood.  

    When he stepped into his house, however, that feeling vanished as if it had blown away with a gust of wind.  A feeling of guilt and sadness set in, like it had on Saturday after Souda left.  Maybe Hinata just…needed to be around people all the time.  That would be tough, unless he remarried…which wasn’t happening anytime soon, by any circumstance.  Hinata refused.  He just wanted Chiaki back.  He really, really wanted her back.  He wished all of this was a joke – that whatever or whoever had taken her would come out of nowhere with an arm around his wife and place her safely in Hinata’s arms instead.  

    When he laid down in bed that night, he couldn’t help but notice how empty the bed felt with the vacant space beside him.

————————————-

    Komaeda called back a few days after Hinata had been over his house – two days, to be exact.

    “I figured you wouldn’t mind me calling, but I guess that was kind of a bold assumption,”  Komaeda had told him sheepishly.  “But we had such a nice time when you came over, I figured–”

    “I had a great time.”  Hinata cut the man off before he could feel any worse about calling, which is where he knew it was going.  “You’re not bothering me by calling, okay?  I’m glad you called.  I would’ve, but–I don’t actually have your number, I totally forgot to ask you for it.”

    “Oh!”  Komaeda laughed into the phone.  He proceeded to tell the other his number, and Hinata wrote it down on the notepad he kept on his nightstand.  It seemed like it would be a regular occurrence for Komaeda to call when Hinata was in bed.

    “Okay, thanks.”  Hinata nodded to himself.  “It was stupid of me not to ask for it; I’m glad you called.”

    “Yes, me too!  I’d hate to lose contact again.”

    They talked for what had to be an hour after that.  They talked about nothing particular, just random things: a pretty bird Komaeda had seen, something Hinata had watched on TV; it was peaceful.  Reassuring.  He decided he really enjoyed talking to Komaeda because there was no stress involved.  Even if Chiaki did come up, the unsettled feeling Hinata got would vanish just as soon as it came.

———-

————————————-

———-

    Two months passed.

    Hinata and Komaeda made phone calls a regular thing.  Then, meeting regularly at one another’s houses became a thing.  The two months went by quickly, full of those two things and almost nothing else (other than working and buying food) for Hinata.  He enjoyed it.  It made him feel like he wasn’t so disconnected anymore; like he was putting himself out there, and getting better somehow.  Not only that, but it was refreshing to just sit and talk about all the fun they had in college, when they were younger.  Anything brought up was a fond memory.  Hinata never seemed to stop smiling during these interactions.  They grew closer with every conversation.

    On the days when Komaeda had work, Hinata sometimes visited him at the café.  On the days Hinata worked, Komaeda sometimes visited him at the office.  Those visits always brightening the brunette’s day – even when he was in a pissy mood.

    “This friendship seems to be…somethin’ else alright,”  Souda had told his friend the next time they saw each other, a bit awkwardly.  That’s right – friendship; Hinata refused to look at it as anything else.  “Pretty remarkable.  I’m glad he could make you this happy.”

    Was Hinata completely happy?  He figured as much, but he wasn’t really sure.  There was still that nagging feeling in his stomach every time he went to bed alone.  

    Komaeda came over to Hinata’s house one day as they approached the third month of constantly seeing each other (as Just Friends, of course).  He arrived unannounced, but Hinata didn’t mind, because the second he opened the door the white-haired got this huge grin on his face and it, truthfully, melted his heart.  Wait, did it?  He quickly composed himself.

    “Hi, Hinata-kun!”

    “Komaeda!”  He said, and smiled back at his friend.  “Hi!  Why’re you here?”  The man asked.  “Not that I’m not…glad to see you.”

    “Oh, I just thought I’d drop by.  I was in the neighborhood,”  Komaeda explained.  Hinata waved him inside, and the other stepped in quickly, as if walking in front of a playing movie screen.  “I wanted to talk to you…”

    Hinata was instantly a little anxious.  It was just a natural reaction.  “Oh yeah?”  He shut the door.  “About what?”

    “Oh, just…”  Komaeda hesitated for a moment.  “Us.”

    That only made the brunette feel worse.  “Us”?  What was that supposed to mean?  Did Komaeda not want to hang out anymore?  God, he probably noticed how Hinata looked at him sometimes.  That wouldn’t make sense, though – the smiles he made at the other were always so full of joy.  That just wouldn’t make any sense!

    “It’s nothing bad…I don’t think.”  Komaeda’s words snapped him out of his thoughts.  “I still really like you.”  It was like he read Hinata’s mind.  The man blinked at his friend.

    “I wasn’t thinking that,”  he lied.

    “Okay.”  Komaeda smiled sweetly.  “Do you want to sit down?”

    Was this a conversation they’d need to sit down for?  “Sure.”  Hinata led him to the living room and plopped down on the couch.  Komaeda slowly sat beside him.  It was quiet in the room for a few moments, which didn’t normally happen.

    “Our friendship is interesting, don’t you think?”  The other man jumped straight into it.  He didn’t waste any time.  Hinata was kind of impressed at his ability to skip all the small talk.  

    “Sure,”  he replied.  “Why?”

    “It’s just amazing to me!  How we just…became friends again after not even seeing one another for so long.”  The white-haired laughed lightly.  “I feel very connected with you.”

    Hinata suddenly felt awkward.  Why?  “Yeah, me too.  It’s nice to have a friend like you again,”  he said.  “Not that I don’t appreciate my other friends.  It’s just different, I guess.”

    “Mhmm.”  Komaeda nodded slowly, staring at him.  Hinata glanced around the room, trying to avoid his gaze.  “I’ll understand if you don’t share my feelings,”  he went on.  “But I just feel like I need to tell you that I don’t believe I’ve felt the way I do when I’m with you since Izuru was alive.  But – I really don’t deserve you, do I?”  Ah.  Izuru was his boyfriend’s name.  The gears in Hinata’s head turned as Komaeda broke his stare and leaned back on the couch.  “No…you’re much too good for me.  He was, too.  That was foolish of me to say, huh?  Just forget i–”

    “Are you saying that you, like, want to date me?”  It was Hinata’s turn to stare.

    “Nevermi–”

    “Komaeda.”  They were staring at each other, at that point.  Hinata chose to notice, as well, just how close they were sitting to each other.  “Would you just answer something clearly?  It’s like you speak in riddles sometimes…”

    The man’s eyebrows furrowed.  “I just spoke on an instinct,”  he insisted.  “I didn’t really mean it…”

    Hinata could just tell he was lying.  He was quite poor at it, really.  He remembered, in college, he’d believed many of Komaeda’s lies without a second thought.  He was so dense back then, it was kind of pathetic.  The brunette sighed aloud, closing his eyes for only a moment.  When he opened them again, Komaeda had his hands folded in his lap and was gazing to the right.  He clearly did not know where to go with this.  Hinata took a minute to organize his own thoughts.  He thought about how he felt lighter every time Komaeda smiled; how his heart clenched when the other laughed; how he felt incredibly amused when noticing the things he unconsciously did (like talk with his hands, or furrow his eyebrows when invested in a conversation, or take Hinata by the hand to lead him somewhere, and then apologize once he noticed they were holding hands, or–lots of other things); how he just felt…elated, anytime he was with him.

    They were just friends, though, right?

    …Apparently not.

————————————-

    Hinata said it “just happened.”

    Well, it didn’t just happen; it happened and it was like, way too important to slap a “just” on it.  It really began the second Komaeda had basically said “I haven’t felt like this since Izuru was alive.”  It escalated, however, when Komaeda interrupted his internal struggle for the second time that night by saying “I should go,” and Hinata forgot any other nagging thought in his mind for that moment because the want to say “No, stay” trumped all of them.  Maybe that was it.

    All he really knew was that the white-haired was almost literally on top of him, seemingly trying to kiss him to death.  Honestly, Hinata was loving it.

    It started out slow, gentle, fairly tame:  Hinata pulled him back down to the couch and pressed their lips together.  They separated pretty quickly.  Then they kissed again, when they both realized they liked it, and then they just kept coming back for more.  Each one turned longer than the last, and then it turned feverish and Komaeda’s tongue was in his mouth and Hinata was pushing him down against the couch and then–

    And then kissing like that made Chiaki pop into Hinata’s mind and he just kept on kissing him, because he reveled in the familiar feeling and he hadn’t had it in so long and if he shut his eyes tight enough it was like he was really kissing her.

    It didn’t last long, though.  Hinata quickly remembered who he was actually kissing and everything instantly felt terribly wrong and he was ashamed with himself.  He pulled away abruptly.

    “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he gasped.  “I’m sorry, I can’t, this is wrong.”

    “Woah, hey,”  Komaeda breathed out, gripping Hinata’s arms.  Hinata pulled away, allowing the other to sit up.  He couldn’t look at him.  “What’s the matter?  Is it me?  I did something wrong, I’m so–”

    “No, no, not you.”  The other took another breath.  “I’m sorry, I just–it felt like, it felt like I was kissing her, and I just, I don’t want to kiss you and think about her that’s just not right an–”

    The white-haired cut him off.  “It’s okay.”  He laughed, as if it really was.  Hinata shook his head.  “No, really, it is.  I–I can’t say I wasn’t thinking about Izuru, myself, because I mean…it felt like I was kissing him.”  

    Hinata looked at him.  He was rubbing the back of his neck slightly, only half-sitting up.  “Oh.  Well, that’s fine, because I–”

    “But you said it felt like you were kissing Chiaki, too, right?”

    “Yes, but–”

    “So it’s fine,” Komaeda said softly, sitting up fully and taking one of Hinata’s hands.  Hinata stared at him.  “Because we loved them, right?  So that means that…the feeling, here, is the same, or at least similar – right?”

    The brunette was quiet for a while.  He was right, he supposed.  Right?  Yes.  That didn’t make Hinata feel better, actually.  It only made his head hurt.

    “I just don’t want…I don’t want to think about her if I’m kissing someone else,”  he practically whimpered.  It was kind of pathetic.  His throat felt tight.  “It just doesn’t feel right, but I don’t want to forget her, I still love her–”

    “You don’t have to stop loving her,”  Komaeda said gently.  “I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving Izuru.  Just because they’re gone – that doesn’t mean they have to totally disappear.”

    Hinata’s throat still felt tight; the feeling had, in fact, intensified.  He looked away again.  Then, he felt Komaeda’s hands on his face, wiping tears from his face.  When had he started crying?

    “Sorry,”  Komaeda mumbled when Hinata glanced at him again, and quickly retracted his hands.  “But, as I was saying, you don’t have to forget.  And neither do I.  I’m sure there are people in relationships that have lost lovers before and they still haven’t totally moved on, but…we can still go forward.”  He paused, clearly thinking his words over.  “I’m not forcing anything on you, though, I totally get it if that’s not what you’re looking for, or if you’re not ready for that, I could be useful for anything, th–”

    “No, no, I’m not thinking any of that, please stop.”  Hinata shook his head once again.  “I’m just trying to process…my thoughts right now.”  His eyebrows furrowed.  “Listen, I…really like you, okay, I really do.”  Komaeda seemed to deflate slightly at his words, like he already knew how the story would end.  “It’s just hard for me to accept them because…I feel like I’m betraying her, I feel like–” he paused, sucking in a breath.  “I feel like it’s too soon for me to be…in another relationship, because it hasn’t been long enough since she died, and I just…I don’t know, Komaeda, I don’t know.”

    “Well, it’s only been six months since she passed, right?  So…it’s understandable.  I get it.”  He nodded.  

    “I just–the thing is I think that I want to be with you, I just didn’t expect I feel this way again so soon after she passed it feels so, so wrong–”

    “You aren’t betraying her by feeling, Hinata,” Komaeda insisted.  “I promise you.  It’s only natural.  You don’t just stop feeling.  There’s billions of people on Earth, you know.”

    “I know,”  Hinata practically grumbled.  “I just–”

    “She’s not angry with you.  He’s not angry with me.  Though, again…”  He stood up from the couch, running a hand through his hair.  “I’m not trying to pressure you or..anything like that.  I just want you to know that.”

    They just looked at each other for awhile.  After maybe 30 seconds, Komaeda was clearly uncomfortable.  

    “Okay, well, I should go,”  he said.  “Sorry.  About everything.  I’m just–it’s to be expected of me, I’m sorry, I can’t imagine I let you down because I was too low to begin with for you to have any high expectation of me–”  he was already beginning to walk away.  “–but I guess I did let you down, I’m sorry–”

    Komaeda kept talking, but Hinata didn’t really hear past that part.  He’d pin anything on himself, wouldn’t he?  The brunette stood up, reached out and grabbed the other by the arm.  Komaeda was instantly quiet.

    “I said I should leave, Hinata.”

    “I don’t want you to leave.  And you don’t want to leave, either.  And also, seriously stop blaming yourself because I literally just told you what this was really about.  None of it’s your fault, idiot.”

    Komaeda laughed lightly.  “…Okay,”  he said after a moment.  “If you say so, I suppose…”

    “I just need to think about this, okay?”  Hinata released his arm.  “Give me a day?”

    “Of course.  However long you need.  Don’t feel obligated,”  Komaeda told him.  “Please.”

    “I’ll call you tomorrow,”  Hinata promised.  He’d have everything figured out by then.  Hopefully.

————————————-

    Once Komaeda left, Hinata threw his jacket on and left, as well.  He hopped into his car and drove straight to the graveyard.  The graveyard where she was buried.  He’d only visited it once before.

    When he arrived, unease immediately washed over him.  He already didn’t like it.  There were countless tombstones of varying shapes, sizes, lengths; all smushed together, struggling to fit in the space inside the gates.  Contained.  Like there wasn’t enough room to fit all the bodies.

    Surprisingly, Hinata found Chiaki’s grave fairly quick.  She had a small tombstone, rounded at the top.  It was very new, not a sign of wear on it or a chip to be seen.  Hinata sat down in the grass in front of the stone.

    “You’re too good-hearted to hate me for this.  Right?”  That was the first thing he said.  “I’m so sorry.”  The tears were already flowing.  He let them.  “I didn’t want this to happen, but I guess I can’t help it now.  You always said that you–can’t control what you like, and you were right, I guess.”  He took a breath.  “I’m really sorry.  It’s my fault, too, I can’t just blame him like that; I chose to keep seeing him.  I could have stopped.”  The brunette leaned his elbows in the grass, face in his hands.  “I really like him.  But I love you, too.  Would you be angry if I decided to be with him?”  He paused for a moment, as if expecting a response.  Nothing came, as expected.

    “…I’m so sorry, Chiaki.  I’ll never stop loving you, never. Never, so long as I live.  And I’ll never forget you, I absolutely won’t.”  He took a shaky breath.  “I promise.  Never.”  His hands were wet.

    He talked to her for an hour more, at the least.

————————————-

    He called Komaeda the next day.  He just picked up his phone (when he was sitting in bed, of course) and dialed like it was nothing.

    It was, somehow, liberating, despite how he had felt the day before.  He felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest yet at the same time there was still guilt in the back of his mind.  He guessed that’s just how it would have to be for awhile.  He could live with that.

    The phone rang four time before the other man picked up.  Hinata held his breath through all four rings.

    “Hello?”  A groggy voice greeted him.  Hinata glanced at the clock on his nightstand;  11:00 a.m.  

    “Hi.  It’s me.”  The brunette cleared his throat.  “Did I wake you?”

    “No.  I’m just tired.  I didn’t sleep very well last night.”  He yawned into the receiver.  Hinata suddenly felt guiltier.  “Sorry.  How are you today, Hinata-kun?”

    “Good,”  Hinata said slowly.  “I’m good.  Um, I was calling to tell you something.”

    “Oh, yeah?”  Komaeda barely sounded interested; this was very different from his usual attitude.  He must have been extremely tired.  “What is it?”

    “I went to Chiaki’s grave last night.”  Though he would usually cry upon just saying her name, he didn’t even feel an urge to do so.  

    Komaeda was quiet for a moment.  “Really?”  He finally replied.  He seemed a bit more awake.  “That’s good…and?”

    “And I talked to her.  A lot.  And I thought a lot about a bunch of stuff.”

    “Mhmm.”

    “I talked to her about you.”

    No response.

    “I realized that she wouldn’t be angry with me.  She was too amazing to ever be angry about something so dumb.”  Hinata took a breath.  “I’ll never forget her.  And I’ll never be over her, I don’t think, but I really want to be with you,” he said, and continued without waiting for a response.  “I think it’s okay.  I want to–I don’t want to forget, and I don’t want to leave her behind, but I want to–I want to at least move on from–from this–”

    “Really?”  Komaeda cut him off.  “You’re really okay with this?  Another relationship?  After her?”

    “Yes,”  Hinata said, and he was sure.  “Are you okay with this?”

    “Of-of course I am,”  the man replied.  “…You know, I think they would want us to look forward.  ‘Be happy again.”

    Hinata nodded, even though he knew Komaeda couldn’t see him.  He was right.  That’s just what Chiaki would want.  “Yeah.  I think so, too.”

    There was a pause of silence between them, but it was comfortable.

    “Hinata-kun?”

    “You can drop the honorific, seriously.”

    Komaeda laughed.  “Okay, Hinata then.”

    “Hm?”

    “Do you still want to know what the numbers on my calendar mean?”

    Hinata blinked.  He’d forgotten all about that.  “If you’re comfortable sharing.”

    “I count,”  he said.  “I’ve been counting the days he’s been gone since he first died.”

    The brunette was quiet for a moment.  It made sense now.

    “Yeah.  So, we still have a long way to go.  Both of us.”  He laughed yet again, in that way of his.  “But I think that…you’re good for me.  And, as hard as it is for me to grasp, I think I might just be good for you, too.”

    “Hey, Komaeda?”

    “Yes?”

    “Come over.”