#I feel like Harte’s skin gets darker every time I draw him because I don’t have any reference or anything

[spw-art]

hmm

[ivyglow]

More than friends | Carter Hart

A/n: Sooo, I was supposed to be done with this piece before our win last night, but my laptop keeps stopping, and the new one only arrives this week, in the meantime I’m stuck with this one and taking longer than ever to write the requests. Anyway, thank you for the patience, and if you want to support my writing, you can always like, reblog and share my posts with a friend you think might like it.

Shout out to Tori for the amazing job proofreading this piece. You’re the best, @guentzgoal​

PS. The songs mentioned in this chapter are Hozier (work song) and Ed Sheeran (friends). 

Requested: Yes

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mention of Friday’s mess aka 5-0 against the Canadiens. 

Summary: You’re the media management to the Philadelphia Flyers, and during the bubble time, you get closer to Carter being the person he runs to after the terrible game that day. You two finally realize something more developed between the friendship.

When everything started to crumble down, he wished for you. He’d imagined that you were probably in your room cuddled up with a bunch of blankets listening to your Hozier-favorites playlist while sipping cold tea. Carter occasionally even wished for everything to be a nightmare, that he was just sleeping on your couch while you watched one of your favorite horror movies, any different situation would be better than the current disaster happening. 

He couldn’t help but blame himself for every little thing. 

He was the one that let the puck reach the net four times, he thought. 

Somehow his head made him sure of this thought when he was pulled off the ice to the bench. He was angry, afflict, and all he wanted was for the team to score at least once or twice, so the loss wouldn’t be as awful as it was feeling at the time. 

But as you would sometimes say to him, “das Leben ist kein Ponyhof,” and even more than to hear your strange sayings, Carter liked to internalize them, because usually, they were great instructions for life. And to think that “life is no pony farm” was useful in times like this, it reminded him that it doesn’t matter how much he wished or worked, sometimes, it wasn’t meant to be. However, it didn’t erase your feelings, and that’s why he was fuming when he closed the door and went to the locker room. 

He tried to look unbothered enough to the media on the aftergame conversation, but on the inside, Carter was drowning in stress and guilt. During the drive back to the hotel, he thought about texting you to let you know he was crashing in your room that night, but he got carried away reading what people were thinking about his performance in the game. 

Most of them hated it.

And so did he.

Carter was thinking about how poorly he played when he knocked at your door, and you probably thought the same, but Carter wanted, no, he needed to see you and hear you, and he was sure you wouldn’t let him down. Your presence always did wonders for him and his self-esteem. He would probably hear “das Leben ist kein Ponyhof,” for the hundredth time, talk about how shitty he was feeling and let you caress his hair, and only this itself would make his day a little better. 

When the door opened to show you wearing a bathrobe, Carter lost his air for a couple of seconds. The mop of curls wet sitting on the top of your head, the dark skin, long lashes, full lips...everything about you was perfect to him, and he cheesily thought that maybe in another lifetime you were his queen and he would bow and adore you like you were the most perfect thing to walk the earth. 

“When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold dark earth, no grave can hold my body down. I'll crawl home to her” Hozier was softly playing inside your room.  

Carter thought about what to say, but nothing seemed to be enough, nothing made justice to how he was feeling on the inside, but he knew by the look in your eyes that you understood everything, every little detail, every bruise, and every deep and shaky breath. 

You took the bag from his shoulders and dropped it on the side of the door, before grabbing his hand and bringing his body closer. You watched the whole game while working on some management reports, as part of the media management team. You wished you were there. Nevertheless, just like the hockey team, everyone had a specific task, and yours today was writing and studying some more essential ideas discussed previously. You were not expecting Carter to show up at your door so soon. You knew he would eventually come around, and Carter said himself that he preferred to be close to you whenever he felt bad because you knew exactly when to ramble about yourself to take his mind off whatever was bothering him and when to listen to him and give advice. 

As soon as his scent hit your nose, you closed your eyes and enjoyed the hug. He was warm, and his hair was still wet from the shower, the fabric of his suit brought some kind of comfort when it came in contact with your skin and all you wanted to do was hold him until all his anguish was over. 

“You’re okay, we’re okay,” you whispered, peppering kisses along the exposed skin of his neck and jaw, the available surfaces when you crushed against him. 

You felt Carter nod his head, before finally putting a small space between the two of you.

“I’m sorry I forgot to text you to ask if I could just show up and…”

“Hey, it’s fine, we’re friends, no need to stress over this. And yes, you can crash here tonight as long as nobody notices, you know,” you traced his nose and the crease in his eyebrows.

And as much as you noticed every little detail of him, you were not able to see the way his face twitched when you said “friends” because as much as he loved your friendship, he got himself wishing for more in times like these. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, dropping a kiss to your forehead.

You disappeared to take off the moisturizer from your hair, and Carter took the time to make himself comfortable by taking his jacket off along with his shoes, letting the blankets on the couch engulf his body. 

“Das Leben ist kein Ponyhof,” you whispered when you came back. Now dressed in your pajamas and with your hair slightly damp, you lay beside your favorite goaltender on the couch. He dropped his head to your shoulders and made himself small, so you could take care of him the way he liked. And so with your favorite playlist playing and your fingers massaging gently at his scalp Carter fell asleep. 

He woke up with your voice distant, and a playlist still going, although it was not the Hozier one anymore. The room was darker than when he lay there, the only source of light coming from the open windows and one lamp, he noticed that you had lit a candle on the coffee table and that there was also a cup of water sitting there. 

Carter felt cared for and loved. He loved how your little details always made him feel better.

“I called room service, they’re getting our dinner here soon…” you appeared in the room again with your cellphone in your hands. “What’s up?” you asked, laying beside Carter one more time. 

The distance was little, and he thought about the way your friendship worked. It felt like more than friendship, and Carter took his time thinking about how he never sleeps with his friends like he sleeps with you. The way his friends cared about him but never the way you did. How he wanted to kiss you goodbye every time you parted ways and how he wished to just lay with you for as long as possible, just taking your scent in, enjoying your company, and your very specific playlists. 

“Hartsy?” you called again, confused with how he just zoned out. “Is everything okay? What are you thinking about?” 

He shifts on the couch, and now your faces are even closer. “Nothing...I was...this is a good song, never heard it.” 

You chuckled before directing your attention to the lyrics playing as background noise. Your heart did a little double-take, and you couldn’t help but turn your eyes to the face in front of yours.

“Friends just sleep in another bed, and friends don't treat me like you do. Well, I know that there's a limit to everything, but my friends won't love me like you. No, my friends won't love me like you.” 

You shivered when his thumb found your chin bringing your face even closer. It slipped through your face drawing little dots connecting every far end. You enjoyed the feeling, and though his hands were calloused, the pad of his fingertips felt soft and comfortable against your skin.

“Are we friends, or are we more?” his voice was so low you were sure if you weren’t staring at his lips, you would not understand. 

And when his thumb found your lips opening slightly, you closed your eyes, too overwhelmed with the new sensations to bother with an answer. You wanted him to crash the space between your lips and finally dive in, you wanted him to be more than friends, and you wanted to comfort him after everything. 

You wanted Carter and Carter only. 

You wanted to be more than friends.

Carter tested the waters by dipping his face and caressing your nose with his. He liked the way your faces seemed to fit in place, and he was determined to kiss you when the bell rang loudly in your room. 

“I have a saying for this,” you breathed out, wanting to laugh about the situation. “Aller Anfang ist schwer.” 

“And what does that mean?” 

“I’ll let you know later,” you fooled before getting up and going to answer the door.

Your legs were like jelly, and your mind was working at a fast pace, but still, you tried to keep composure.

Eating dinner after that interaction shouldn’t be easy, but it was for you and Carter, so he handled it so well it made you even more sure about how much you liked him. It wasn’t a real talkative dinner, but considering that hours prior, Carter was like a sad puppy, to see him smiling shyly at you was a victory. 

“Can I sleep here tonight?” he asked when you finished. 

“You already did,” you tried to mess with him, and Carter rolled his eyes before getting on the couch again. “Of course you can, Hartsy.” 

And so the rest of the night was just you and Carter randomly talking and listening to your playlist. He didn’t ask his question again, and neither did you, but you knew he was thinking about it when you went to bed. Especially laying there side by side. 

You were used with his naked chest and with his sleep pants, but it felt different that night, and the question keeps replaying in your head. So this time, you were the one to voice it. 

“Are we friends?” you turned to him. 

Carter sat in front of you, grabbing your hands. His fingers were cold against your palm, and you shivered one more time that day. 

“We’ve been ‘friends’ like this for more than a year, and even though I don’t know the turning point I know we are more than that and have been for a long time now,” his voice was firm like he was sure about what he was saying as he thought about it before. Your eyes dropped to your intertwined fingers, and you took a long breath before Carter started talking again. “Friends just sleep in another bed, and friends don’t treat me like you do...everything my friends do to me feels different when it comes to you.” 

It was the blink of an eye before your lips were connected, and you tried containing the growing smile between your lips. Carter’s lips were soft against yours, he felt like a summer day, one you waited a whole year for, and when it finally happened, it felt surreal. It wasn’t weird kissing him. It wasn’t odd sleep laying on top of him that night because it felt natural, it wasn’t anything new for the two of you. You were friends at the start, sure, but at some point, it turned into more, and you both handled it like it was only a friendship. You were happy to finally realize it had been more between each word, each interaction, each cheek kiss, and hug.  

Sleep came easy that night, for you and him. 

And even though his severe loss earlier, Carter felt valid.

You were there, you were his number one fan winning or losing, and he was happy he got to have a stable relationship with you. 

“Do you have a saying for that?” he asked jokingly.

“Unfortunately, no,” you held his face close, lips centimeters away. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to spend time with sayings when I can spend time kissing you,” you confessed.

He chuckles, “Suddenly, life feels like a pony farm.” 

You can find more of my work here

[thetalesfromthedarktower-blog]

Tales from the dark tower. PT 1. Mr Dumont meets the Low Men

Opens on a smoke filled cramped office. Three men, wearing yellow rain coats, wide brimmed hats and sunglasses stand in front of a desk, behind which sits another man, Mr Dumont

Narration: These men were not to be trifled with, that much was evident. There’s a part of your brain, commonly referred to as the lizard brain that deals with all the primitive stuff, the pure basic means of survival, the fight or flight response, that sorta thing. This morning, faced with these three men, every alarm it had was loudly blaring ‘run’.

Lowman 1: ‘Mr Kim, we’ve heard you have a skill for finding individuals that perhaps don’t want to be found’.

Dumont: ‘That’s something I’ve done from time to time...’

Narration: The alarms had now been joined with an itch, maddening, behind the eyes.

Lowman 1: ‘Excellent, very excellent Mr Dumont. That’s make us very happy. Here’

[The Lowman passes two photographs across the desk. Dumont takes them with a slight shake in his hand.]

Lowman 1: ‘We require the location of these two gentlemen, a Mr Richard Hart, and his Son, Kyle. You’ll see there last known locations on the back of those images’

[Kim flips the image over and studied the address]

Lowman 1: ‘Here is fifty percent of your fee. Another fifty percent plus any reasonable expenses will be paid once we have their location. Do not make contact with them, please leave that to us’

[The lowman tosses a bundle of notes across the desk]

Dumont: ‘If you don’t mind my asking, what’s your interest in them? Are they dangerous?’

Lowman 1. ‘We have a business opportunity that Mr Hart has been...reluctant to accept. Our terms have changed and it’s vital that we contact him to relay this information. Richard is a good boy, he won’t give a man like yourself any problems’.

Dumont: ‘When I find them, how do I contact you?’

Lowman: ‘Do you know of ‘the hopscotch’ Mr Dumont? A rather quaint game children play! When you find where they lay their heads, make a hopscotch pattern with a star and moon at the head on the sidewalk outside. We’ll do the rest’.

Dumont: ‘that’s all’

Lowman: ‘That’s all’

[The lowman lightly touches the brim of his hat and nods, then leaves the office. Mr Dumont exhales and slumps in his chair. He flings open desk draws until he find a bottle of scotch and a small revolver, muttering profanities to himself as he does so. He sits at his desk, thinking intently.]

Narration: It took me all of about twenty minutes to convince myself these men weren’t human. Everything about them seemed wrong, from the maddening yellow coats to the wax-plastic of their skin. I had an intuition that behind those ridiculous glasses, their wouldn’t be eyes, just empty lifeless sockets. Their teeth, too white and too large, were really filed points.

However, they were right about one thing, and that was my knack of finding people. Growing up, my nana had called it my shine, I’d never had a better name for it, so it stuck.

As a younger man I could, more or less, find anything. Keys, glasses, that twenty you swore you had in your pants pocket but was actually stuffed way down the back of your sock draw.  People though, they were my speciality. Usually a photo was enough to get on track, sometimes even just a name. The only way I can explain it is like a series of hunches. I’d open a door in my mind and allow whatever information that felt inclined to stroll on in, put its feet up and hang around for as long as it liked. For the most part, it was fairly routine and mundane. Finding keys to the garage, Locating Mr Pancakes, the next door neighbours cat. Occasionally, darker things would work their way in and by middle school I had learnt to steer clear of any local newspapers, for fear of catching a flash of anything particularly disturbing. I learnt to shut and lock the door, and that’s how it mostly remained. The plan had always been to join the force, maybe a cold case department eventually, but an undiagnosed heart murmur meant even passing the most basic physical an impossible task. So I threw myself to the next best thing; a private detective.

[Cuts to montage of Dumont as a younger man. We seem him hunting down various items. Then back to office, Donny swirling the revolver around]

Narration: Sitting there in my office it crossed my mind to run. Just leave the office, and go, see how far I could get before those things caught up with me. Catch me they would, I knew that as firmly as I knew they weren’t from this world. Reluctantly I resigned myself to the only option that presented itself. Play for time and ride it out, hope that I’d luck my way out this like I had so many other awkward cases.

[cuts Dumont driving at night in the rain. We see him running in and out of various establishments]

Narration: Picking up their trail wasn’t hard. A man and boy traveling across country alone with no mother soon stick out, and it wasn’t long before I had a solid lead in the form of Gloria.

[cuts to American dinner. Dumont car pulls up and he kills the engine. He exits, walks in and takes a seat in a booth. A pretty waitress approaches.]

Gloria: ‘what can I get you handsome’

Dumont:’ just coffee thanks...’

Gloria: ‘ coming up…’

[Cuts to Gloria walking away, we follow her as she works, chats with customers]

I liked how she walked. Easy for girls in her line of work to get knocked down, sub servant to the rest of us mortals; but Gloria, she seemed to float, skip across the surface of reality like a flat stone thrown across a calm lake.

Gloria: ‘ here you go....’

[Gloria poured Dumont a coffee.Dumont leans forward to read her name badge]

Dumont: ‘Gloria, you wanna help me out?’

Gloria: ‘That depends, I ain’t in habit of helping out strangers, even as good looking as you’.

Dumont: ‘it’s real easy, I just wanna know if you saw these two when they passed through’

Dumont slides the photographs across the table. Gloria ignores them

Gloria: ‘You police?’

Dumont: ‘no M’am, private detective’

Gloria: ‘That so? What they done.’

Dumont: ‘Nothing as far as I know. I just need to find em is all’

Gloria: ‘And then…’

[Dumont splays his hand wide as if that’s a conclusion. Gloria looks around suspiciously, then slides into the seat across from him.]

Gloria: ‘Yeah, I saw them’

Dumont: ‘When?’

Gloria: ‘Friday I think, it was late and I remarked how boy his age should be tucked up in bed at that late an hour. He was a real sweety, ate like a horse though. They paid cash and left...not much too it’

Dumont: ‘Didn’t say where they were going?’

Gloria: ‘No, not that I asked. Come to think of it they didn’t talk much at all, even to each other.’

Dumont: ‘Think hard now Gloria. Did you see them leave? What kind of car were they driving’

Gloria: ‘Something Japanese. I ain’t to good with cars, and it was dark. Maybe blue…. Hey, they ain’t in trouble are they?I don’t want to cause them anymore...

Dumont: ‘No trouble as far as I’m concerned’

Gloria: ‘Well...good. They seemed like decent enough folk. (reluctantly) I better get back to it, this coffee don’t serve itself...

Dumont: ‘Course. Thank you. Grab me some of that pie when you get chance, I’ve got an apatite again…'

Gloria: ‘You can have anything you like Mr Dumont…'

[She winks as she walks away. Open on exterior of cheap motel]

Narration: I made love to Gloria that night like it was the last time I’d ever touch a women, mostly because by now I was convinced it was. What ever these men planned with the man and child, I had an hunch my fate would be much the same.

[Dumont and Gloria both lying in a motel bed looking up at the ceiling]

Gloria: ‘These men that hired you, they’re not good men are they?’

Dumont: ‘I don’t think so’.

Gloria: ‘You can’t run? We could run.’

Dumont: ‘I think they’d find us. The man and boy are giving them trouble for some reason, but me and you, we’d be easy’

[Gloria looks at Kim intensely]

Gloria: ‘They’re not from this place are they.’

[Dumont takes a long time to answer]

Dumont: ‘you pluck that outta here that easy? (Touches his forehead) The moment I walked in, you knew exactly who I was looking for right? That’s how you knew my name before I told you. I expect you know most things about most folks you meet. None of the deep parts, not the secrets, but the stuff here at the front, the immediate concerns, you can see that?’

[Gloria nods reluctantly]

Dumont: You listen to me. If they come for you, and I think you’ll know when they’re close, you run, you understand? You get a mad itch behind your eyes, or hear a faint buzzing in your head you can’t explain, you get going, got it?

Gloria: Will they come for me?

Dumont: I don’t think so...you shine like me, but not in the same way and not nearly as strong. I’ve got an idea that maybe this man, maybe he shines too. I feel him occasionally, in bursts like a distant radio station when you’re on the freeway. I seem to zone in and out of him. He must be really pumping out some juice for me to pick him up like that. Maybe that’s why these men want him.

Gloria: Maybe….What I do know is there’s only one man I want right now...

[Dumont smiles and rolls on top of her and kisses her. They make love again. Cuts to Kim leaving in the morning quietly, gets on his car and drives]

I left without waking her. She had the shine alright, not as strong as me, but strong enough to reach into the front of my mind and grab those thoughts. Thinking back now, I’m sure it’s no coincidence that I bumped into Gloria. If a man gets lost at night, he’ll stumble towards any light. I think me and Gloria were both stumbling around in the dark, arms out reached and happened upon each other’s dim flames.

It didn’t take me long to track them down. It was mostly my shine that did the hard lifting, but over the years I’ve developed an understanding of those looking to disappear. If I man doesn’t want to be found, he’s inclined to look for a certain kind of work. Pan scrubbing, timber yards, laundry, the kinda work which pays cash, pays quick and doesn’t ask any awkward questions like ‘what’s your social security number’.

I followed Richard for two days, shadowing him. I was almost ready to make my mark and await the arrival of my employers.

[cut to Dumont sitting outside a guest house in his car reading a paper. Suddenly the passenger door is heaved open and Richard jumps into the car. He sticks a stubby revolver into Dumont’s ribs. Dumont reaches for his own piece but he’s too slow]

Richard: hands on the wheel, eyes strait...

Dumont: ....

Richard: Who’s your employer?

Dumont: Hard to say, never got a name.

Richard: Sombra Corporation? Yellow coats, wide brimmed hat, wore sunglasses even indoors. Ring any bells?

Dumont: Yeah, that sounds about right…

Richard pauses and lights a cigarette. He keeps his eyes and gun focused on Mr Dumont

Richard: You’ve laid in bed with the Devil and opened your legs nice and wide! Lord, you have any idea how much trouble you got coming your way?

Dumont: I’m starting to get an idea, yeah... When did you make me?

Richard: Laundry place, yesterday. No single man washes that many clothes.

Dumont: Single?

Richard: No ring...

[With that Richard pistol whips Dumont with the butt of his revolver. Cut to black. Fade back in. Kim is tied to a chair in a cellar. Before him sits Richard on a chair and Kyle cross legged on the floor]

Richard: Long days and pleasant night, Sai. I’d take it easy, I cracked you quite hard so you may feel a bit woozy for awhile.

Dumont: Believe it or not, it’s not the first time I’ve been at the end of a revolver butt..Jesus, where am I?

Kyle: Dad, he’s a breaker!

Richard: You sure?

Kyle: Yeah, he’s no that strong, but he has it. Something...he was stronger, but something happened and he buried it.

Richard: Ah shit! Make sense why they hired him now. You must be like a beacon to this guy. He coulda come from halfway across the country for all we know.

Kyle: I didn’t feel him, like I do the others…

Dumont: What did I break?

Richard: Nothing yet, and let’s hope it stays that way.

Dumont: Who are the men looking for you?

Richard: We call them the low-men, but technically they’re Can-toi.

Dumont: They wear…human.

Richard: The disguises? Not that convincing huh. Mostly they go unnoticed unless you get real close, or you have the touch like yourself or my boy.

Dumont: What’s underneath?

Richard: It’s not pretty, put it that way. So..what the hell do we do with you now?

Dumont: I was supposed to mark your location, didn’t get a chance before you went at me with that revolver. Maybe they don’t know you’re here? I could run, forget I ever saw you?

Richard: Ha! You know as well as I do, you’ll barely make it to the end of street. Stars and moons chalked on sidewalks aren’t the only means these…men have. To be fair I’m surprised the low-men ain't here already, something must have them mighty distracted to pass this up. They’ve probably had a close eye on you for sometime I imagine.

Kyle: (trancelike) They’ll come, and soon. His eye has moved towards us.

Dumont: Who’s eye?

Richard: It’ll take to long to explain, just someone you don’t want to meet. We need  to move and now.

Kyle: We…we have to jump Dad.

Richard: (Sighs). You sure? I’m not sure you can take many more. Maybe, if we time…

Kyle: We don’t have any choice Dad, they’re getting close real quick.

Richard: Can you manage three?

Kyle shakes his head reluctantly. They both turn their gaze on Mr Kim

Richard: Well then, this is where our Walt’s ends Mr Kim I’m afraid.

Dumont: What’ll happen to me?

Richard: If you’re lucky, the Low-men will put a fright into you and leave it at that.

Dumont: and if I’m not?

Richard: pray that you are… You ready Kyle?

[the boy nods. He stand and joins Richard, holds his hands and closes his eyes. A shimmer effect appear and strong chimes break into the audio. Kyle’s nose explodes with blood and he drops to his knees. The shimmer intensifies and Richard and Kyle slowly disappear.

Dumont remains tied to chair. He struggles and eventually frees himself. He rubs his wrists absently]

Narration: Running seemed pointless now, Richard was right, I’d make it no distance at all before they’d find me. So I settled down and waited for the itch, for those maddening coats and brimmed hats. I didn’t have to wait long.

[slow motion of the low men entering the cellar]

Lowman 1: Mr Dumont, you disappoint us!

Dumont: I kept my end of the bargain.

Lowman 1: So you did, but not to discreet were you. I’m inclined to think that maybe had you been more careful, I’d be in possession of my best employees.

Dumont: The boy?…I wouldn’t know anything about that.

Lowman: I’m sure Richard filled you in? No? Would you like to see my real form?

Dumont: real form?

Lowman: Now now Mr Dumont, lets drop the act shall we. You can see past our rather modest attempt to imitate your form. Believe it or not, we idealise your species, your beauty, your...essence. I’d very much like to show you the full me.

Dumont: No, no thank you.

Lowman: Maybe for the best. The last human I showed my form bashed his brains out right there on a concrete pillar. Fascinating thing, the human brain, even when slopped on a parking lot floor. Not everyone can take it it seems, too much for some with gentle minds.

Dumont: So…Now what?

Lowman: Well Mr Richards, I’m afraid your services are still required. We have far greater plans for you! We need everyone on board for the big push, and a man with your talents can’t go to waste lulling around here.

Dumont: And if I decline this new…opportunity?

Lowman: We can overlook some with gifts, Mr Dumont. Like a certain waitress. I wonder how strong her mind is? Would she push a carving knife through her throat if she saw my real form? Her touch isn’t particularly strong, but I’m sure we could find other tasks for her around the compound. We may not be human, Richard, but we have needs too. Our anatomies don’t match to well, us and humans, the male of our species is rather larger in the, er,  trouser department, if you like. Occasionally humans can get split right up the middle...

Dumont: You’ve made your point.

Lowman: Come then! A new world awaits. Your going to love Thunderclap. Plenty to see, lots to do...

Dumont gets to his feet and walk between the Lowmen. We see him leaving the cellar. Cuts to black. Fades in on large hall, with comfortable seating, filled with people. Some are reading, others playing chess. Lowmen are patrolling quietly. Mr Dumont is sitting in a wingback chair reading a newspaper.

So, here I am. Turns out finding people wasn’t my only skill. I sit here, in my chair. One part of me reading the paper, the other part, the part that shines chipping away at a beam which holds a tower, around which all the countless world’s revolve. So much for special , huh Nana.

The Can- Toi ain’t so bad once you get used to them, they try they’re best to keep us in line, but they’re more human than even they realise. Before I arrived there was an escape, and they lost their best breaker, Ted. There’s whispers here and there, but for the most part it’s assumed he’s gone for good.

I think about the boy from time to time, wonder where he is. I’m happy he got away, and I hope it stays that way. And I think about Gloria, but I don’t allow myself that luxury too often.

Mostly, I wait. Breaking beams isn’t too good for your health, seems to scramble something up on a base level and sooner or later you get paid a visit from the big C. Could be leukaemia, could be a brain tumour. This world at one time was far more advanced than the one I’m from, but seems like they never got round to a cure for cancer, or if they did it was lost long ago.

Maybe one day I’ll escape, like Ted. I’ll find Gloria and we’ll disappear. If Ted could do it, maybe I can too.