#It’s gonna reach a point and idk if I can go 12 months without snapping

[0venatrix]

So the thing is I’m a lot less scared if things, but instead of becoming anxiety riddled I just get mad.

[platonicavengers]

Pinky Promise

pairing: avengers x teen!reader; platonic!steve x teen!reader; platonic!natasha x teen!reader

word count: 1,772 (hehe told y’all)

warnings: sadness, depression, maybe swearing?? idk i don’t pay enough attention, post-infinity war feels

author’s note: im :) fine :) not :) sad :) at :) all :) also why do i always write angst am i that incapable of letting anyone be happy hahahah help

summary: it’s been a year since thanos snapped his fingers, and you still feel just as upset as you did the day it happened, but steve and nat are there to try their best to help you :)

my masterlist | read it on ao3 | read it on wattpad

One year; 12 months; 52 weeks; 365 days; 8,760 hours; 525,600 minutes; 31,536,000 seconds.

Since it happened. It, of course, being Thanos snapping his fingers, successfully eliminating 50% of life throughout the entire universe. Since you lost so many of your closest friends, your family.

Some people say that it gets easier with time, that eventually, it stops hurting as much. That after a while, the pain just isn't as bad.

But they would be wrong.

It's been an entire year, and for you, it's only seemed to get worse. The pain just grows each day, the loss of some of your favorite people just taking a larger toll on you as the days go by.

And the team could tell. What's left of the team, at least. Even out of the survivors, not everyone stayed around at the compound, as it would just bring back memories of those they've lost.

Tony had gone to live with Pepper and their daughter, Morgan, in a cabin on the lake. Bruce had gone somewhere, you weren't even sure where he was, and the same with Rhodey. Thor left to go establish New Asgard, and you hadn't seen him since. Carol, although technically not an official member of the team, was up in space most of the time, so you never saw her, either. That left only you, Natasha, and Steve.

Natasha was the first to notice. The way you rarely left your room, and if you did, your eyes were rimmed with a red tint, and your cheeks were puffed up. And if she ever got the chance to speak to you, you would only give her one or two word responses, far from the usual energetic and lengthy ones you used to give.

Steve noticed not long after, partially because Natasha pointed it out to him, and partially on his own. He saw the way you always wore sweatshirts or t- shirts belonging to your fallen friends. He heard you crying at the late hours of the night, when you thought no one else was awake.

So the two of them came together, trying to think of any and every way to help you, to take your mind off of everything, even just for a few minutes. But you did know this. You still stayed locked up in your room, today, especially, not even attempting to drag yourself out of bed, knowing that the only thing you were capable of doing today, was mourning.

••

The minute your alarm clock went off at 7 AM, you could already feel the familiar sensation of a wave of tears approaching. You were used to it by now, and just let it happen on its own.

With the sleeves of one of Wanda’s hoodies folded over your hands, you pressed your wrists to your eyes, trying to stop the stinging feeling of the tears. Your attempt was futile, and a steady stream started flowing down your cheeks, onto the comforter below you.

You sighed in frustration and annoyance when the tears wouldn’t stop. It seems like everyone else has moved on already, you thought to yourself, so why can’t I?

You buried your face in your hands and let out a loud sob. You shook your head, slowly lifting it from your hands as you stared up at the ceiling for a moment. You internally swore at yourself, knowing that what you were about to do was immature, but you were going to do it anyways.

“Hey, u-um,” your voice was quiet, hoarse from going so long without speaking, not to mention nasally from all the crying you’ve been doing lately. You brushed your messy hair out of your face, sniffling loudly, “I-I don’t know if anyone can hear me, but I, uh. I wanted to try an-and say something, just in case any of you guys a-are listening right now.”

You sobbed again, swearing under your breath, “Get it together, Y/N,” you whispered to yourself. You cleared your throat, trying once more to speak, “U-um. I just wanted to say that, um, I miss you all,” your voice broke off, the tears falling faster now, “so much. Uh, I miss you and love you all so much. I would do anything to get a-all of you back here, right now. Whatever it would take, I don’t care. I-I need you all, so badly.”

You cursed at yourself again, much louder than you intended to. Unbeknownst to you, Steve and Natasha heard you. They shared a look, before stopping what they were doing, and standing next to your closed door.

“I’m so, so, so sorry I didn’t do good enough. I tried, as hard as I could. I tried everything I could think of to get everyone back,” your voice had fallen into a low whisper, “b-but nothing worked.”

The pair outside your door felt their hearts break. It hurt them so much to hear you in such pain, and they knew they couldn’t stand to listen any longer. Natasha glanced at Steve, communicating with him through their eyes. Steve sent her a slight nod, knowing what she wanted to do.

The redhead slowly stood up from her squatting position, softly knocking on your door. She spoke quietly, a warm and caring tone laced through her words, “Y/N, sweetie? Could you open the door, please?”

You froze. You hadn’t expected for either of them to try and talk to you. Lately, they had stopped trying to get you to unlock your door, to open up, even just a little, after realizing that you refused to. You stayed silent for a moment, not knowing how, or if you wanted, to respond.

“Please, Y/N. We just want to help you, I promise, honey.”

Natasha’s voice was so calming, with the slight motherly tone coming through her words. You felt your resolve falter for a second, and you contemplated whether to let her in or not. On one hand, you didn’t want them seeing you like this, although you knew they wouldn’t care. But on the other, you so desperately craved comfort, reassurance, especially from those you trusted and cared for so deeply.

“Please,” this time it was Steve that spoke, “we know you’re hurting, and we want to help.”

With his words, you broke. You felt the sobs building up in your chest, and you ran to the door, unlocking and it and yanking it open roughly. You fell into Natasha’s open arms, sobbing. Steve wrapped his arms around you as well, joining the embrace. Your body shook painfully, but the feeling of two of your closest friends holding you so tightly helped soften the blow.

It took you around fifteen minutes to calm down. The whole time, both Steve and Natasha stayed with you on the floor, still holding onto you tightly, occasionally whispering short phrases of comfort into your ears.

When you eventually did settle down, you could feel your body growing tired from your sobs. You slowly lifted your head from Natasha’s shoulder, and she sent you a small smile. She wiped away the tears from under your eyes with the pads of her thumbs, and tucked your hair behind your ears.

Steve shifted so he was in front of you, and he could see your face as he spoke to you, “How ‘bout we have a movie day today, huh? No work, no responsibilities, just hangin’ out and watching movies? Sound good, hmm?”

You weakly nodded, trying your best to send him a smile, but the corners of your lips barely lifted up. He smiled back at you, helping you and Natasha both up from the ground, and the three of you walked together to the living room area.

You sat down on one of the couches, Steve taking the seat next to you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, slowly rubbing your arm as Natasha stood in the kitchen, gathering snacks for you all.

As Steve picked up the TV remote, going to put the first movie on, a memory of a day similar came to mind.

“Everybody sit your asses down, it’s movie day!” You grinned widely as Tony shouted at the rest of the team. You plopped down on one of the couches, Steve on your right, and Wanda on your left. You loved having movie nights with the team, as they were a rare pleasantry in a life as hectic as yours.

“Yo, Tiny! Heads up!” Sam called out to you, chucking a bag of popcorn towards you. You giggled as you caught it, quickly ripping it open and shoving a handful of the snack into your mouth.

Steve reached a hand into the bag, trying to steal some of the popcorn, but you quickly smacked his hand, causing him to send you a playful glare. Your eyes widened as you saw popcorn floating out of the bag, but you jokingly rolled your eyes as you turned to your left, seeing Wanda using her magic to grab some of your food. You sighed, a small smile on your lips, “I really can’t have anything around here, huh?”

You were cut off by a loud “Shh!” and you glanced over to one of the other couches, offering a sheepish smile to an impatient Natasha.

You were brought back to reality by a loud shout of your name, and you blinked your eyes a few times, seeing both Steve and Natasha in front of you, worry clear on their faces.

They both visibly relaxed when you looked at them, but their concern quickly returned when they saw your eyes well up with tears, and a sob break its way past your lips.

Natasha wrapped her arms around you, bringing you to her chest and slowly rocking you back and forth, “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

“I-I miss them s-so much!” You stuttered out between sobs.

Natasha felt herself tear up, her hold on you tightening, “Oh, sweetie, I know, I know. I miss them too.”

A few minutes later, Natasha released from the hug, but kept you tucked into her side, running her fingers through your hair. Steve grabbed ahold of your hands, gently rubbing his thumbs on top of your fingers, “I promise you, Y/N, we’re gonna get them back. We’re gonna get them all back.”

You wiped away a lone tear, whispering, “Pinky promise?” You knew it was immature, but you held up a shaking pinky, desperate for reassurance, no matter how childish it made you seem.

Steve chuckled softly, wrapping his pinky around yours, “Pinky promise.”

[kbstories]

impression//expression

“It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone.”

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, Kamino Arc, Kidnapping & Aftermath, Hurt/Comfort, Bakugou Gets A Hug

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Content warning for kidnapping, aftermath of violence. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.

***

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥)

i’m gonna die (sent 19:08)

no seriously i’m this 👌🏻 close to losing it bro (sent 19:08)

aizawa’s voice is so zzzz and it’s like sir,, i’m begging,,,, (sent 19:09)

a little bit of energy. just a little bit (sent 19:09)

A nudge to his side, somewhat urgent.

shit brb (sent 19:10)

“Dude.”

Kirishima keeps his voice down to a hiss, shooting a glance at Aizawa’s turned back just in case. Hidden behind his pencil case, his phone shows Bakugou has read his messages – near-immediately, as always – before Kirishima locks the screen. His own face is reflected on sleek, innocent black.

Next to him, Kaminari is looking at him like he’s lost his mind. “Don’t dude me, dude”, he whispers back. “Texting in Aizawa’s class? D’you have a death wish?”

Next to Kaminari, Mina leans over her desk, clearly curious and uncaring of her notes crinkling quietly under her elbows. “You? Kiri, paragon of wholesomeness and sunshine, breaking the rules? Lemme guess, it’s because of Bakugou.”

Next to Mina, Sero joins the fray with a muted headshake. “So brave yet so reckless. Truly inspiring.”

“You can say that again. That guy��s scary, man.” That’s Kaminari again. He leans in conspiratorially, nodding at Kirishima’s phone. “You got Blasty’s number? How? He almost bit my head off when I invited him to the 1-A chat.”

“Uh, yeah? We’re besties. But guys…”

If they were anywhere else, Kirishima would let out a whine. All he wanted to do was keep himself awake by texting his bro, is that such a crime? Especially since Bakugou’s the only one of ‘em who is actually allowed out there, where the fun stuff is happening. It’s downright cruel to have a new challenge dangled in front of their eyes like the juiciest steak only to be dragged away to the equivalent of plain steamed broccoli. Or something.

Point is: Kirishima’s bored enough he could cry and Aizawa, bless his insomnia-plagued soul, is making it about a thousand times worse with his monotone mumbling while he continues to write whatever-the-fuck in chalk to illustrate his point.

Three mouths open simultaneously in what Kirishima knows will be a too-loud bout of teasing – a frantic gesture of his hand to shut up, shut up, shut up has identical grins bursting on his friends’ faces.

Grins that disappear the instant the familiar sense of Aizawa’s quirk washes over them. Uh oh.

Aizawa doesn’t even have to say anything. Not even a brief pause registers in his lecture yet Kirishima snaps to attention so hard his buttcheeks clench as he furiously scribbles down what’s on the board. Some sort of… diagram? (It’ll make sense later, Kirishima hopes. And if it doesn’t, there’s always his equally draconic tutor-slash-best-friend he can poke into helping him eventually.)

After a semester at U.A., everyone in 1-A is whipped enough that not a single word is breathed between them for a good fifteen minutes. Aizawa talks, they take notes.

Then the adrenaline wears off and Kirishima finds himself drifting once more, fingers automatically flicking the home button. There, over Crimson Riot’s confident grin, three new messages.

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥)

pay attention (received 19:14)

ffs (received 19:14)

hope aizawa murdered your ass (received 19:16)

No surprises there. Well, the fact that Bakugou has deigned to reply just before a training exercise kind of is, and he even triple-texted which makes a sappy part of Kirishima’s brain think he must’ve rubbed off on him over the past months. The day Bakugou Katsuki discovers emojis can’t be far off now and it will be Kirishima’s greatest achievement to date.

He bites his lip to suppress an amused noise at that. Ignoring the incredulous stare from Kaminari to his right, Kirishima types.

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥)

haha! i lived bitch (sent 19:32)

minus the bitch askdjfhsk sry (sent 19:32)

i’m just tired af lol (sent 19:32)

how’s things on ur end tho? (sent 19:34)

no asses left unkicked i’m sure (sent 19:34)

👊🏻💥💥 (sent 19:35)

Kirishima gets about a solid second to feel good about furthering his pro-emoji agenda before his phone is snatched away by rigid, white cloth. Wide-eyed, his gaze is met by a flat expression that exudes more exhaustion than any human should rightfully have to feel.

“Kirishima”, Aizawa says, as calm as ever. “How kind of you to lend me your attention.”

Lord have mercy. Whichever hell Aizawa is about to unleash on him, Kirishima will be in it for a while. And when that’s over, it’ll be Bakugou’s turn to have a field day with it.

Somehow, Kirishima is actually looking forward to that last part.

*

Then, a voice rings out in their heads. Aizawa jumps into motion. The villains strike.

Afterwards, all Kirishima can do is stand there and watch the forest burn. His phone is silent, held between fingers that won’t stop trembling no matter what he does. He unlocks, checks, locks, only to do it all over again a few minutes or seconds later.

Around him, everything is spinning out of control. Reality is too loud, too bright, already overwhelming where it waits to be acknowledged beyond the soothing green interface of his chat with Bakugou.

The messages are still there. Marked read until they aren’t, and Kirishima stares at that subtle difference like it’s the last thing tethering him to the ground. Blue tick, his best friend is fine. Grey tick–

Bakugou let Kirishima take a photo of him, once. Kirishima had complained about his profile picture being that creepy default silhouette, especially once they started texting on a daily basis. So Bakugou sighed and leaned over the tiny table of the café, his chin propped on one hand and his coffee in the other. He’d kept still just long enough for the shutter to go off and called him a clingy bastard right after.

In the soft morning light, there’d been something warm in his typical glare. It’s still there, tucked away in the top left corner of the screen. Fond, red eyes, looking straight at Kirishima ever since.

Higher and higher, the flames reach for the sky with greedy, cobalt fingers, bright enough to take the stars with them. And Bakugou?

Bakugou is gone.

*

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥)

hey (sent 23:01)

it’s a long shot but (sent 23:03)

are u there? (sent 23:03)

these are going thru so ur phone is on and i thought (sent 23:08)

idk (sent 23:08)

please respond man (sent 23:37)

please (sent 23:58)

katsuki? (sent 00:40)

*

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥)

fuck (sent 3:24)

*

Bakugou Katsuki

um (sent 6:13)

the pros asked for ur number to track it and stuff so i gave it to them (sent 6:13)

turns out almost nobody has it?? so like (sent 6:20)

if u want a new one after all this it’s on me (sent 6:21)

pls don’t be mad haha (sent 6:21)

fuck that actually (sent 7:05)

be as mad as u want baku (sent 7:06)

u can do whatever ok? when u come back (sent 7:09)

free pass. i won’t guard this time (sent 7:09)

just come back (sent 8:00)

they’re looking for u so u gotta come back (sent 8:02)

* 

Baku 💣💥

sry i just (sent 19:55)

ok still going thru (sent 19:55)

that’s good right? (sent 19:57)

i need it to be good (sent 20:05)

yeah (sent 20:06)

*

Baku 💣💥

it’s saturday (sent 2:33)

please be ok (sent 4:46)

i miss u (sent 5:00)

*

Baku 💣💥

we’re on our way katsuki (sent 12:45)

just hold on we’re coming for u (sending…)

wait (sending…)

oh (sending…)

*

Bakugou is quiet.

When all is said and done, injuries patched up and police statements given, Kirishima waits and Bakugou looks… tired. Small. Glancing back at the precinct with eyes a little too wide, a little too hesitant to truly belong to him.

Whatever he’s searching, if he finds it or not – Kirishima can only guess as Bakugou’s shoulders slump further and he mutters, “Let’s just go.”

In retrospect, he was probably talking to his parents. The Bakugous came for their son in a car as expensive as they come, white with chrome highlights and an interior clad entirely in tasteful, beige leather; it’s an aesthetic that’s the antithesis to Katsuki’s. Their expressions are full of love, though, brows drawn in concern carefully left unspoken. His father opens the back door for him first, going for his own in the front, while his mother ruffles Bakugou’s hair within the one-second-window he allows for the touch before shrugging it off.

“Welcome back, brat. We missed ya.”

Familiar phrases laden with far too much weight. From the outside in, it’s just that: Mildly exasperated parents picking up their kid after some school thing that dragged on into the night, or perhaps a late hangout with a friend. No one acknowledges the nightmare-ish three days they’ve left behind by the merit of time passing and the world spinning on and nothing else – the countless people injured or dead, an entire district torn asunder in a conflict much bigger than any of them, especially Bakugou.

Bakugou, who shuffles onto the backseat without saying much of anything. It’s only after Kirishima trails after him and Bakugou’s eyes meet his own over his shoulder that Kirishima realizes that’s what he’s doing.

Then Bakugou’s gaze softens and he kicks the door of the car open wider. “Um”, Kirishima pipes up, the noise of keys clinking together drawing his attention to one Bakugou Mitsuki. “Is it okay if I…?”

She snorts and ruffles his hair, too. “Kid, after what you did tonight, a ride home is the least I can do for ya. C’mon.”

Kirishima bows politely, a mumble of “Thanks, ma’am” waved away immediately. A moment later, Kirishima’s hand is being grabbed and he’s dragged inside. “Get a move on”, Bakugou mumbles, staring pointedly until Kirishima rights himself and digs for the seatbelt with his free hand. The click of the clasp snapping in is oddly loud in the ensuing silence.

It doesn’t last. The moment the engine purrs to life and the lights go off, a heavy guitar riff screeches from cleverly hidden speakers in perfect surround sound and Kirishima jumps. He’s the only one in the car to do so.

“Whoops, my bad”, says Bakugou’s mom as she turns the music down the slightest amount, her smirk – so familiar and yet not – clearly visible in the rear-view mirror. Next to her, Bakugou’s dad chuckles and shakes his head.

Bakugou himself is turned towards the window, the hand against his chin barely hiding the tiny smirk there. Kirishima lets him have it. Anything that’ll replace that lost expression from earlier is good in his books.

“So. Eijirou, right? Nice to finally meet ya.” Mrs. Bakugou checks in with him via the mirror. Her hand rests on the gear selector. “Where to? We’ll bring you home first. I’m sure your parents are worried.”

And oh fuck, Kirishima hasn’t even thought that far ahead yet. When he snuck out of the house a lifetime ago, all his mind was able to process was getting to Bakugou, saving Bakugou, bringing Bakugou back. As much as both his mothers are angels in their own right, they’re also easily worried and twice as buff as him. There haven’t been many occasions which called for them to throw down for their son but they totally would if given half the chance.

If they catch wind of even a fraction of what Kirishima got up to tonight, someone will have to pay. Kirishima’s willing to bet his most prized, limited-edition Crimson Riot figurine that that someone will end up being all of U.A., nationally famous pro heroes or not.

Before any of that can make it out of his mouth, Kirishima’s hand is squeezed and… Oh. Bakugou’s still holding it. Their skin isn’t touching; Kirishima’s sleeve has been pulled down to prevent that.

(It’s one of those things Bakugou does, tracking who and what gets in direct contact with his sweat and how to neutralize it in time. It makes Kirishima’s chest ache that, despite everything that happened, he is still aware of small things like that.)

“He’s crashing at ours tonight”, Bakugou tells his parents rather gruffly. Still looking out the window like there’s nothing unusual about that at all, and Kirishima gapes at him in complete and utter surprise. Bakugou’s grip only tightens.

“Got a problem with that?”

Just like that, Kirishima finds himself able to process speech. “Nope! Not at all. Uh, that is– Mrs. Bakugou, Mr. Bakugou, can I?”

Bakugou’s parents look similarly caught off-guard. To their credit, they merely blink and look at each other, shrugging. Again, it’s the mother who speaks. “That’s Mitsuki and Masaru to you, kid. Let’s go home, then.”

And that’s that. They set off, the car’s movement a quiet thrum that’s drowned out by complicated drum solos and vocals barely scraping past outright growling. Any other day, Kirishima would’ve been ecstatic to finally get to meet the Bakugous. He’d hoard bits and pieces of knowledge about them – such as the fact that Katsuki’s taste in music runs in the family, what the hell – like a dragon does gold coins. The notion that Bakugou invited him to their first sleep-over ever would be the biggest treasure on that pile, for sure.

Because Bakugou Katsuki is anything if not cautious: with his quirk, with his time, with his trust. Because, after days of pacing his room and worrying himself sick and crying until exhaustion took him out, their plan worked.

They pulled it off, Bakugou is back and alive, and Kirishima’s allowed to stay by his side a little bit longer.

He’s here because Bakugou wants him to be and that… feels better than Kirishima can properly put into words. So, no, he doesn’t boast about it, he doesn’t have the energy to – but Kirishima notes and appreciates it nonetheless, relief forming a ball of warmth and light that radiates within him like a tiny sun got stuck between his lungs and his heart. Bit by bit, it melts the tension off Kirishima’s bones until all he can grasp is the steady presence of Bakugou’s hand in his and how heavy his eyelids feel.

Kirishima could sleep for a week straight and still crave a nap afterwards. Probably.

There’s something he has to do before he crashes, though. With a gentle squeeze, he frees his hand to grab his phone and winces at the dozens of unread messages and missed calls that greet him. Both the group he has with his family as well as the one for 1-A have been running hot most of the night, reducing his battery to a pitiful 12%.

Opening up the chat with his moms, Kirishima scrolls to the bottom of the increasingly worried barrage of texts and hesitates, his fingers hovering over the keypad. Once he starts typing, he’ll have about a minute before shit really hits the fan.

💪🏻Kirishima Power 💪🏻

guys i’m so sorry!!! (sent 21:58)

i know ur worried and stuff and i swear i’ll explain later ok?? (sent 21:58)

 just wanna let u know i’m safe!! staying over at baku’s tonight (sent 21:58)

he’s here and safe too (sent 21:58)

🙏🏻🙏🏻 (sent 21:59)

He pauses then, reading that last part over and over again. Safe. Safe, safe, safe. A smile cracks Kirishima’s lips apart and it remains there, steadfast through the flood of new messages rolling in.

*

Bakugou’s room is both everything Kirishima expected it to be and at the same time… not.

It’s huge, for one, the typical bed-wardrobe-desk setup expanded by a couch and a beanbag, a TV with a variety of game systems hooked up to it, a handful of shelves filled to the brim with books and manga and oh, a whole freaking drum set taking up a corner by itself. The walls are plastered with band posters and signed set lists and – less blatant but still there – the odd All Might merch Kirishima knows Bakugou would strangle him for mentioning, so he doesn’t.

What comes out of his mouth is: “Dude! I didn’t know you played drums. That’s so cool!”

Everything is kept in the triad of black-orange-green Kirishima recognizes from a certain hero costume. A few discarded shirts aside, it’s really tidy. So much so that Kirishima feels ashamed of the state of his own room just by seeing this.

The feeling is compounded by Bakugou picking up those shirts and throwing them in the hamper first thing, a quiet tch indicating he’s annoyed by it. Kirishima isn’t up to outing himself as an unrepentant walking mess in comparison – instead, he makes a beeline for the bookshelf with the manga, eyes drawn to a row of covers he’d recognize in a heartbeat.

“Wha– I’ve been looking for these for ages! They’re sold out every time I try to catch up on ‘em.”

A short glance at Bakugou is answered with a shrug and an eye-roll: It’s Bakugou-speak for do whatever the hell you want. Kirishima pulls out the volume he stopped at and leafs through it.

It’s meant as a distraction for Bakugou, a space for him to drop the put-together façade and breathe without people constantly fussing over him. It’s honestly what Kirishima would rather be doing right now (exploring his best bro’s room be damned) but it’s not what Bakugou needs. Well, what Kirishima thinks he needs.

It’s hard to get a read on him without the constant snark and pointed glares. With some dinner in their bellies and Bakugou’s parents now safely downstairs, the expression that fits nowhere on the Angry Bakugou Face catalogue is back. Kind of uncomfortable and so… absent.

Kirishima is really starting to hate that expression.

It’s entirely accidental that Kirishima actually gets into reading. One chapter turns to three, turns to five, and the troubles and worries whirling ever-tighter in his chest ease for a bit until–

Woosh. A soft, balled-up something knocks against the back of his head. Kirishima startles and almost drops the manga, a vaguely alarmed noise stopped short by the sight of Bakugou in sweats and a well-worn, black shirt. His hair is wet. Wild as ever. At Kirishima’s feet: A similar outfit including a towel.

“Bathroom’s that way. Leave your clothes out by the door, I got special detergent for the nitro. Shampoo and shit’s in the shower, there’s a toothbrush for you by the sink. Use it.”

Kirishima opens his mouth.

Bakugou sighs. “It’s just a fucking toothbrush, Kiri. Wreck it for all I care.”

Kirishima closes his mouth. He nods. His phone is quickly dug out of his pocket and set aside, then he slips out to shower.

A good fifteen minutes later, he opens the door to let out a gust of steam and sees his clothes are gone. The hallway is empty, half-lit by the light coming from downstairs. The Bakugous have been as nonchalant about their spontaneous guest as Bakugou himself; even so, Kirishima tries not to linger or make too much noise as he sneaks back to Bakugou’s room.

“Baku. I’m back.”

Bakugou gives him a grunt of acknowledgement from where he’s fitting some sheets over the couch, folded out to provide a decently sized bed. There’s a pillow and a pile of blankets next to him, wrapped in fresh linen as well. It’s unlikely he’s stopped doing stuff since Kirishima left and if he is about ready to crash in five to ten minutes, he can’t imagine how Bakugou is doing right now.

Y’know, the guy who just survived being kidnapped by Japan’s newest and most notorious villain menace. No amount of pretense can make that simple fact undone.

Kirishima pads over to help, the offer to take over already on his lips but– Too late. The last corner is already being tucked in and laid flat with grim-faced efficiency. Left with nothing else to do, Kirishima sits down on the very edge, eyes downcast and fingers fiddling with the hem of his borrowed shirt. There’s some sort of band logo on it, an English word written in that typical death-metal-font that looks like someone dumped a bunch of white sticks in a pile and called it a day.

It’s soft. A little loose and frayed around the edges.

“Hey, Baku?”

Taking the blankets, Bakugou dumps them in Kirishima’s lap. “Mh?” He makes to step away and Kirishima doesn’t think, just reaches out and catches the back of his shirt.

“Dude, seriously. Just… sit down for a minute. Please?”

And Bakugou… listens. He stops, he frowns at Kirishima for a moment like he’s trying to figure out what his deal is, he sighs like he’s been presented with the world’s most aggravating puzzle – and then he tells Kirishima to scooch. “What? I’m not gonna sit on the fucking floor”, he says.

Kirishima can’t keep the relief off his face as he gladly makes room on the couch, leaning against its arm and tucking his legs in. Once Bakugou has settled, cross-legged with an elbow propped on the backrest, Kirishima throws the blanket over both of ‘em. Might as well get comfortable while they still can.

“Okay.” He steels himself with a long, slow breath. “I know you hate this kinda thing and we’re both tired and… stuff. Still, though: Are you okay?”

Bakugou gives him a look, which– Okay, fair. It’s a dumb question with an obvious answer. Kirishima doesn’t back down, though, humming to buy himself some time to rephrase.

“Like… It’s fine if you’re not. Okay, I mean. And if you’d rather go the fuck to bed and not think about this for a while that’s fine, too. But that was pretty rough and you’ve been, um, quiet. And stuff. So, I’m kinda worried. Y’know?”

Kirishima pauses. A bit lower, he mumbles: “And I missed you. So yeah.”

At some point, he dropped his gaze to his hands, limp and useless in his lap. Kirishima swore not to be a coward anymore but it’s hard, to speak and ask about things in full awareness he has no fucking clue what he’s doing.

All he wants is for Bakugou to be okay. That’s all that matters, at the end of a day like this.

“I’m not”, Bakugou says, tentatively. Like he’s making up his mind as he goes. “I’m not gonna waste your time with ‘I’m fine’. I’m not. This shit’s fucked up.” And again he sighs, sounding so fucking tired Kirishima’s heart squeezes in sympathy.

“I haven’t slept in three fucking days; my shoulders are killing me from using my quirk and sitting chained to that stupid chair and whatever the fuck else. The League scouted me specifically because they thought I’d make a good villain and fuck them for that. Fuck them. But it’s just… It’s whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

Whatever Kirishima expected, it’s not that. He looks up and into Bakugou’s eyes and–

He can’t mean that, can he? Kirishima searches his face for evidence to the contrary, traces the tension around Bakugou’s mouth and the exhaustion smudged under his eyes and the line between his brows, growing deeper under Kirishima’s scrutiny. It all reads defeat. It hurts.

They won, right? A childish voice within Kirishima can’t help but cling to that even as he looks back down. They won, and things are supposed to get better when you win.

“People got hurt. People died, Kiri. Heroes, too.” Bakugou takes a shaky breath, a hand going to his hair and rubbing it roughly. “Fucking… Best Jeanist was there and nobody at the precinct wanted to tell me if he’s alive or dead or what. All of Kamino Ward is fucking gone and All Might–”

Bakugou’s voice cracks right down the middle and it hurts. Like there’s a beast tearing through Kirishima’s chest to rip out his heart and throw it to the floor, stubbornly beating as it bleeds out.

Kirishima wants to say something. Anything. All he can hear is Bakugou’s breathing but it’s all wrong, off-rhythm and thread-bare and upset, and any doubt what that means is erased as Bakugou’s hand clenches on the sheets and he sniffs, wet on the exhale.

“Baku–”

“Don’t. Kiri, don’t–”

He’s always been like that, ordering him around and demanding things when politeness dictates to ask for them instead. His tone is as close to pleading as Kirishima’s ever heard from Bakugou, though, and it twists him up inside to the point he feels distantly nauseous.

“Don’t look.” Bakugou isn’t supposed to sound like that. Not now, not ever. “Okay? Don’t f-fucking– Don’t look at me right now.”

“Okay”, Kirishima says. “I won’t.” His own voice is a mess as well, trembling all over the place. “I won’t, Nitro. I won’t.”

You’re safe, is what he wants to tell him. It’s okay, you’re safe now. That’s not what Bakugou is asking of him. Kirishima can’t stop himself from crying because it’s always been hard not to when the people he loves are doing it, but… He tries. For Bakugou, he’ll always try.

Through eyes heavily clouded by tears, he sees Bakugou’s hand tighten, knuckles going white and bloodless. Painfully tense, and Kirishima can’t stand the sight of that, either.

He shuffles a little closer to place his hand over that fist, careful to only touch the back of Bakugou’s hand. Kirishima whispers, “I’m here”, and Bakugou audibly swallows. He lets him slip his fingers in-between his own.

Holding on, just as he did in the car and when they met in mid-air, that desperate instance that decided whether he would make it out alive or not.

Bakugou holds on even as he breaks for good and his shoulders shake with his sobs. As he continues to breathe in gulps of air that sound strangled and desperate, through tears that leave a pattern of uneven dots on the blanket. By morning they will be gone without a trace: The sun will come up, the world will continue to travel around it, and time will reveal the road they walk on as they walk it, step by step by step.

Just because it’s meant to pass doesn’t make this moment any less real. Any less important. Kirishima sits there and listens to his best friend cry. He remembers days spent without him and the mad dash to save him. He thinks of dumb questions and obvious answers.

It’s hard to tell if this is one of them, so he gathers all his courage and asks: “Katsuki. Can I hug you?”

Just like last time, Bakugou doesn’t say anything. He laughs, a watery, humorless thing – and he pulls at Kirishima’s shirt to crush him to his chest. His arms wind around Kirishima’s neck, Bakugou’s face pressing against his hair where Kirishima won’t be able to see him.

It’s fine. Kirishima’s great at hugs; he can totally work with that. Clenching his eyes shut, he adjusts his grip around Bakugou’s waist so he can rub his back, following the bumps of his spine. Up and down, over and over. Bakugou goes boneless in their embrace, not about to let go anytime soon and neither will Kirishima.

Eventually, Kirishima tucks his head against Bakugou’s shoulder, blinking sleep from his eyes. Safe. He doesn’t fight the sharp-toothed smile on his lips. Bakugou mumbles, “Fucking sap”, nearly drowned out by their collective sniffling.

It sounds a whole lot like thank you. Kirishima’s smile only grows.

>>Chapter 5

[blissedoutphil]

Dan the Personal Assistant Part 12

Dan has to submit an application video to be an assistant for a company President, Mr. Lester. But what happens when he accidentally sends a wrong video?

Back within 2 months as promised! :P but wow Dan is finally more active than me now

4570 words of angst? idk

~Part 11~

or read on ao3!

Frank shook his head as he glanced at his watch again. Phil missed the meeting entirely and didn’t even bother filling him in on what he should do to cover for his absence. He took a sip of his coffee and focused back on his presentation slides for the next meeting, which should be Phil’s job but since he wasn’t around, of course it was thrown to the director.

The bell on the coffee shop door rang as a man rushed in, and Frank looked up to see the CEO hurrying to his table. Phil tried to tame his messy hair as he sat across Frank.

“Sorry.”

“It’s too late for that,” Frank huffed, typing away on his laptop.

“I didn’t mean to miss it, I really owe you one,” Phil adjusted his glasses resting crooked on his nose.

“By letting me fuck that boy of yours again?” Frank deadpanned.

“If that’s what you want.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, Phil, but I think what I want is him gone,” Frank had been meaning to tell Phil this for a while now.

Phil had seen that coming, but still he felt a pang of sadness.

“I thought you liked him. You agreed to the idea.”

“Yeah but that was before he was suddenly more important than this company, for fuck’s sake.”

“He isn’t,” Phil tried, but knew he wasn’t convincing anyone.

Frank sighed. “I don’t want you to have to step down, you’ve been here from the start. You built this company up to where it is now, and I’m not gonna sit here and watch it all get ruined because of an. An office whore? Do you even like him at all?”

“I-” Phil slumped back in his seat dejectedly, “I thought I did.”

“Why are you letting him control things, Phil? I thought in this kind of arrangements the Dom’s the one in control or whatever.”

Phil looked at Frank, unamused. He didn’t mean for things to have gone this far, and he didn’t know how to put at end to it. Somehow Zack has got Phil wrapped around his finger.

“Can you help me tell him?” Phil asked, hopeful.

“I thought you owe me a favour, not the other way around,” Frank retorted with an annoyed glare.

“I’ll give you a raise. Or more off days. I don’t know, anything!” Phil was getting desperate.

He knew he should end things with Zack, but he was the one who dragged the kid into this situation. To fire him and stop seeing him would be cruel, even if Zack was a terrible assistant and boyfriend. He was too much of a wimp to be the one to break it to the boy.

“Fine,” Frank sighed, unable to bear the sight of Phil in such despair any longer, “I’ll do it. For the sake of my friend.”

Phil smiled at him genuinely, vowing not to get into such a mess like this ever again.

------------

About two years later, Frank found himself in a similar situation despite Phil’s promise. The timid boy staring back at him was worlds apart from Zack, though. He looked like he was terrified that Frank was about to bite him.

He moved past the boy and invited himself into Phil’s room even though the boy told him that Phil was in the shower. Phil had replied his text saying they could meet once he reached the hotel, so technically he could be here.

He eyed the kid, who was standing awkwardly, kind of hunched in on himself. Frank was honestly surprised when he’d seen his boss and this kid in the cafe. Phil never brought Zack along on his overseas trips before. This kid must mean more to him than Zack did.

“Enjoying yourself here?” Frank asked, feeling the awkward energy radiating off of the boy making him start to feel awkward too.

Dan was bewildered that Frank was in their room. He knew that Phil wouldn’t be happy about this, and he dreaded to see Phil get into an even more foul mood. But at the same time, he can’t wait for Phil to get out of the shower and save him from this awkward situation.

“Uhh, yeah so far,” he answered after a beat.

There was no way that Frank didn’t know what he was to Phil, Dan had concluded. He was afraid that Frank would want Phil to get rid of him, especially once he remembered the conversations he’d heard between Frank and Phil months ago. What if he really was being a nuisance, a distraction from the obligations Phil had? It wouldn’t be good even if Phil wanted him here.

The boy was anxiously looking back at the shower every few seconds.

“Don’t worry, if Phil gets mad it’ll be at me, not you. How long does he take to shower, anyway? Jeez.”

Frank moved to sit at the couch, and Dan awkwardly sat at the edge of the chair at the little dining table at the far end of the room only after he sat too.

“Fancy room he got for you,” Frank noted, looking around.

“He must really like you,” he added as an afterthought, wanting to gauge Dan’s reaction.

Dan did not expect that comment, and to his mild horror, he’d started blushing. He hoped it wasn’t noticeable. Frank probably did not mean anything by his comment, but he couldn’t help overthinking it.

Frank did notice the kid looking all bashful. He almost felt bad for the kid. God, Phil better not be leading this poor kid on. He wanted to get straight to the point, but Dan looked like he was going to combust if he spoke another word to him. Zack was never shy around him like this. Even right from their first encounter Zack had always been loud and proud.

“You like being with Phil?” he asked, which he knew was a silly question; the kid wouldn’t be here if he didn’t. But he wanted to hear it from Dan.

Dan wished he’d never opened the door. How the hell was he supposed to answer that? Could he even trust this man when all he makes Phil is angry? He looked warily at the man sitting relaxed on the far end of the room. He remembered Phil telling him that the previous assistant would whore out to everyone in the office. Was Frank expecting the same from him?

If all of Phil’s coworkers were attractive like him and Frank, then Dan honestly wasn’t surprised if the old assistant readily played around with everyone. The man was probably about ten years older than Phil, his hair greying at the sides. But he was still fit for his age, body more toned than Dan’s lanky one had ever been. Dan would be lying if he said he wouldn’t want to tap that.

Not that he actually would, it felt wrong to serve anyone other than Phil.

“Yeah. I-I mean, one of the better jobs I’ve had?” he said, unsure what answer Frank expected.

“So...” the man dragged out, and Dan swallowed, nervous. He really had no clue what Frank was here for. He can’t read Frank’s expressions at all, the man’s face was so stoic. Was he here to tell Phil to get rid of him? To tell him to stop working for Phil? To get in on the action? Dan hoped he was overthinking it all and that maybe he was only here to be nothing but a busybody.

“You like Phil?”

Dan gaped, it was the last thing he’d expected Frank to ask.

Frank knew the kid would be surprised, but he had no time to beat around the bush and he needed to know how this kid felt so that he’d know what direction to lead Phil to.

“I- what?” Dan stuttered.

“I mean is this just a weird ass job or is Phil something more to you?”

Frank chuckled a bit at Dan’s startled stare,“I know I probably sound... invasive or whatever but I can help you talk to him, you know.”

Dan still didn’t know whether to trust the guy. His only memory of him was hearing his angry muffled conversations while hiding in the office months ago, and he didn’t seem keen on Phil having an assistant back then. So why is he offering Dan help now?

“I know Phil. He’s probably head over heels for you but he’s also too scared to tell you. Or me, and maybe himself too.”

“H-how’d you know that?” Dan asked, voice so quiet Frank needed him to repeat his question.

“Well, he brought you here. That’s all I needed to know. He never brought Zack anywhere, and he was on a few trips when that kid was around. Probably what made Zack even more bold to defy him and go around playing with the rest of the office, but eh what’s happened, happened.”

Frank remembered the first time Phil went on a trip without Zack. The boy had been so upset that he practically begged to get in Frank’s pants just to spite Phil. Of course Frank wouldn’t do that to his friend, but that didn’t stop Zack from advancing other staff who were more than willing to use their boss’s boy when the boss wasn’t around.

Frank did what he thought was right and told Phil about the encounter, but Phil seemingly did not mind because it was the agreement they originally had, even though Frank could clearly see that Phil wasn’t keen on that agreement anymore after they officially got together.

“Zack?”

Frank focused his gaze back on Dan, snapping out of the memories.

“Don’t tell me he never told you about the one before you,” Frank said incredulously.

“Oh, he did, but not much. I never even knew his name,” Dan relaxed a bit as Frank opened up, but sat up straight again when he felt the plug still in him. Goddamnit, he should’ve taken the toys out earlier.

“Yeah,” Frank continued, “also Phil missed the staff bonding this morning. Now that, he did a lot when he was with Zack.”

Dan started to feel a bit guilty again. His job was to help Phil relax from work, not distract him from it completely. Frank was probably here because he was done with him taking Phil away from his actual work and wanted Phil to fire him.

“I’m sorry, I’ll try not to be a distraction from his work,” Dan shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

To his surprise, Frank laughed, “Don’t worry kid it’s just a silly staff bonding. But you haven’t answered my question.”

“I... I don’t want things to end up like whatever happened with Zack,” Dan admitted.

Frank realised that Phil probably never told this kid the full story.

“Hey kid, whatever happened back then was all on Zack. Phil met him at a club or something, was taken with him from the start. But the boy was never looking for anything serious, he just wanted to fool around. So they had that whole assistant arrangement thing. I admit I’d egged Phil on to do it at the start, just so I could have in on the action. And Phil let the kid do whatever he wanted, even if he didn’t like it. Anything to make the kid stay; he was that in love.”

Frank rolled his eyes at the memory.

“I started hating the kid when I realised how unfair he was being to Phil. They actually got together as a couple, you know? I guess there were mutual feelings at one point, but he was still fucking around with the staff. Can’t blame the staff because they never knew, Zack made sure he didn’t look like he was exclusively for Phil. I could tell Phil was upset by it, but didn’t do anything because he didn’t want to lose him.”

“Eventually he came to his senses. But he asked me to end it for him,” Frank shook his head.

Dan was listening intently, head swimming with this story he’d always wanted to know.

“But Phil told me he hadn’t meant to fall for Zack? And that Zack left?”

Frank put his hand up, pausing Dan before he was bombarded with more questions. He chuckled at the boy’s curiosity.

“Phil definitely fell for that boy the moment they met. And yeah so I went to speak with Zack like Phil asked, and the boy told me that he’d been wanting to leave anyway. He’d been acting out more to reach Phil’s limits so Phil would call it quits. That scheming brat.”

“Now I don’t know what got into Phil’s head to do this whole ‘assistant’ arrangement again, or how he even found you. If he’d asked me before he did it I would’ve talked him out of it, and maybe that’s why he hid it - you - from me. At first I thought that Phil never learned but I can see that he’s being more careful this time, too careful perhaps. Plus, you’re not at all like Zack.”

Dan bit his lip, glad that it seemed that Phil never mentioned to anyone the video that got him here.

“But I know Phil’s still scared even if he has nothing to be scared of this time around. He’s been my friend long before he was my boss, and I only want to see him happy. No matter the strange things he gets himself into. So I’m asking you because he won’t - does Phil mean something more to you?”

------------------

Phil was spending ages in the shower, standing under the steady stream even though his fingers were already wrinkled. Frank had texted to meet him, and he wanted to delay that as long as he could. His friend was most likely going to give him a lecture about bringing Dan all the way to New York, and he didn’t need that headache. He also didn’t know how to face Dan who was out there waiting for him.

He knew he needed to come clean with Dan about his feelings, but he was just scared. Of what, he wasn’t even sure anymore. Dan was always so willing to do anything for him, with him. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was the boss or if Dan truly wanted to be with him.

Deep down, he knew the answer to that. He stared at the water droplets running down his arms as he finally allowed himself to admit his own feelings, and that they were actually mutual.

Dan couldn’t have been more obvious, he’d have to be blind not to see it.

Still, he didn’t know if he could admit it to the boy. They couldn’t look back if they talked it out, and everything would change. What if Dan also wasn’t prepared?

They still had 2 days left of the trip, what if he’d read all the signals wrong - how would they survive the awkwardness before going home?

He spent some more time in his head until the water flowing down his back started feeling cold. He ran through everything he’d plan to say in his head and finally turned the shower off when he felt confident enough to face Dan. It was now or never. He just couldn’t delay it anymore, he knew Dan was out there waiting for him to talk. He’d just have to face the consequences that would come out of this, whether good or bad.

Things would be awkward enough if he refused to talk about it anyway, he thought as he put on his bathrobe and finally stepped out of the bathroom. And he’d deal with Frank after Dan.

He stepped out to find his boy sitting on the edge of the bed, looking quite shook up. Almost immediately he felt his own nerves make way for worry for Dan.

Before he could ask if he’s alright, Dan spoke up first.

“Um,” Dan said rather nervously, “Frank dropped by.”

“What?” Phil responded, surprised.

“Yeah,” Dan said as he stood up and retrieved his towel, “he said he’ll wait for you by the pool.”

“Did he say anything else?” Phil narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“No,” Dan replied, but Phil could tell he was lying by the way Dan avoided looking at him.

Dan made to walk past him to the bathroom but Phil caught his arm.

“Hey, I’m- I actually really enjoyed today and I’m sorry it kinda got ruined at the end, I’ll make it quick with whatever Frank wants and then. Can I make it up to you somehow later?”

That was not what Phil spent forty-five minutes in the shower planning, but he hated the thought of Dan being upset at him and just wanted to make him feel better.

Dan actually blinked back tears, making Phil feel worse. He had a feeling that Frank’s little visit to their room caused this. He started to regret leaving the poor boy alone for so long.

“I won’t let Frank disturb you ever,” Phil frowned.

“It’s fine,” Dan managed a small, timid smile, “I really enjoyed today, too. See you later.”

With that, Dan disappeared into the bathroom.

------------

Phil stormed quickly to the pool, wanting to know what exactly Frank said to his boy. Or was Dan really that upset at him from the cafe that he cried while he was in the shower? He couldn’t miss the way Dan’s eyes looked slightly red.

He found his colleague sitting at a small table under an umbrella, people watching.

“What did you say to Dan?” He greeted angrily.

Frank looked up at him with a hint of amusement like he was expecting the anger.

“So were you ever planning to tell me that you love him?” Frank asked calmly.

Phil took a step back in shock at Frank’s blunt statement. But the shock turned to anger in an instant.

“Fuck you!” He swore, upsetting a mother nearby who glared at him as she ushered her daughter away from them.

“Real classy, Phil,” Frank shook his head as he watched the mother hurry away with her child. His sneaky smile was still plastered on his face and Phil wanted to punch it off.

“What did you say,” Phil repeated, “that made him cry?!”

“Are we going to have this conversation properly or are you just gonna be yelling at me the whole time?” Frank asked, gesturing for Phil to sit next to him.

Phil huffed, but he sat.

“If I answer your question will you answer mine?” Frank asked expectantly.

Phil narrowed his eyes but Frank took that as a yes.

“I just asked him what you mean to him,” Frank shrugged.

“Wha-”

“Because,” Frank interrupted him, “I know you. You couldn’t ask him yourself, so I’m just helping you to get on with it. Seriously Phil, were you ever gonna do anything about it if I hadn’t seen y’all at the cafe?”

Phil wanted to blow up at Frank again but he knew Frank was right. His friend knew him all too well. He’d always chickened out and asked Frank for help, and he thought that maybe this one time he could do things on his own. Turns out Frank saw right through him. He sighed in defeat, knowing Frank was right. He never planned to talk things out with Dan if Frank hadn’t caught them.

“You know what the kid told me?”

Phil looked at Frank miserably, dreading whatever Dan possibly told him. Dan probably had had enough of the way he always avoided the elephant in their room.

“You mean everything to him, Phil. D’you know that? Everything.”

Phil felt a twinge in his chest upon hearing those words, of a pain he didn’t quite understand.

Frank sighed and leaned forward, clasping his hands on the table.

“I’m sorry for snooping. But when I first realised you were doing this assistant shit again I was honestly pissed off because I didn’t want you to get caught up in another Zack again.”

Phil looked away guiltily, they both knew he couldn’t get out of that mess without Frank’s help.

“I just had to make sure. I never expected the kid to cry in front of me, I’m sorry.”

“I guess the day was just too much for him,” Phil sighed, wanting nothing more than to go back to their room to comfort the boy.

“He was at a low point in his life when you took him in,” Frank said, “poor kid was jobless, broke and alone, having random hookups just to feel wanted. So desperate that he was willing to be your personal escort. But then you gave him something no random hook up could. Besides the money, of course.”

Phil gulped, he realised Dan never actually opened up about where he was before this job. They talked lots about their likes, dislikes. Where they wish to be in 10 or 20 years. Their childhood pets. But he never wanted to talk much about what he’d been doing after dropping out of university. Phil teased him about the video submission sometimes, but he tried asking about it properly once and Dan refused to say anything, so Phil never brought it up again.

“Apparently he’d never felt like he wanted to be with anyone as much as he does with you. But he thought you’d never feel the same. That was when the waterworks started.”

Phil was quite surprised by everything Frank’s telling him. How come Dan could easily confide in this man he just met? Then again, Frank had a way with being a listening ear and helping hand. He had many years of friendship with Frank to vouch for that.

“I didn’t know how to deal with that, I just told him to quickly wipe that off if he didn’t want you to come out of the shower seeing him crying and all,” Frank shrugged guiltily.

“But I did tell him I’ll help him talk to you. So now that I’ve answered your question, are you gonna answer mine?”

“....Was I in the shower that long?” Phil asked.

“You were,” Frank deadpanned, “but good thing you were or he wouldn’t have told me all that.”

Phil sighed and leaned back in his seat. He watched a couple kissing in the jacuzzi at the far end of the pool as he absorbed what Frank just told him.

They sat in silence for a while, Frank giving his friend time he knew he needed.

“I- I do,” Phil’s voice broke and his words came out a whisper, “love him.”

Frank looked on, letting him know he was listening.

“But I’m a fucking coward. I don’t want it to end up the way it did with Zack.”

“You do know this kid, don’t you? I only talked to him a few minutes and I know he’ll never be anything like Zack was.”

Phil blinked back tears of his own.

“I understand why you’ve been so guarded. But you can’t lead that poor kid on like this.”

“I know, but what am I supposed to do?!” Phil asked exasperatedly.

“This is the same man I’ve seen so confidently making deals with big clients and partners,” Frank rubbed his temples.

“I know how to do my job, that’s easy. This. Isn’t,” Phil flailed his hands.

“Just be sincere and tell him. You have nothing to worry about, trust me. You both now know for sure what’s going on, what’s there to lose?”

The couple Phil had been watching finally stepped out of the jacuzzi, giggling as they huddled together in a towel wrapped around both of them and headed back into the hotel.

In that moment, Phil wanted nothing more than to hold Dan close the same way. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, nodding at Frank’s reassurance.

-------------------

Back in the room, Dan was terrified of what would happen when Phil returns. He hadn’t meant to break down in front of Frank like that. He cringed at how he was so open and vulnerable to an almost stranger. He didn’t know what had gotten into him, but he’d trusted Frank to help speak to Phil. But how sure could he be that Frank wasn’t going to turn against him and inform Phil to get rid of the assistant who’d fallen for him?

He’d taken a quick shower and finally got the toys off him. It still felt weird to do it himself. He paced around a bit afterwards, wishing their room had a view of the pool so he could see Phil and Frank.

He had no idea what Frank would really tell Phil even though Frank tried assuring him that he only wanted what’s best for both him and Phil. What if ‘best’ meant making sure Phil leaves him?

The wait was excruciating and the tea he made for them did nothing to soothe his nerves. He waited until his drink finished and Phil’s had gone cold.

His mind came up with plenty of scenarios, more bad than good, but he did not know what he could say in any case. How would Phil even react to whatever Frank told him?

He reasoned with himself that Frank was on his side, after all Frank did tell him that Phil does in fact have feelings for him. He didn’t want to believe it, but the more he thought about their seven or so months together, the more he realised that it could actually be true. And maybe he’d known all along, he’d just been afraid to let himself down on the off chance that he was wrong.

Soon enough his thoughts exhausted him and he resigned to his side of the bed, curling up against the headboard. He could do nothing but wait.

---------

Phil quietly opened the door. Back at the pool Frank had given him the courage to face what was coming, but it faded with every step towards his room. He couldn’t help being nervous even though he knew he had to make things clear once and for all.

He stepped into the dark room, fumbling for the light switch. The whole suite was in darkness, could Dan have gone to sleep already?

But then a soft glow illuminated the bedroom, meaning Dan heard him enter and turned on the bedside lamp. He slowly made his way to the bedroom, feeling his heart thud faster.

Dan sat up from his curled up position when he heard Phil enter, not knowing what to do with himself. He stepped out of the bed just in time for Phil to walk into the bedroom.

There was a few seconds of stunned silence as they both just stood and stared at each other.

Dan’s heart was thumping wildly, and he wondered if Phil’s was doing the same. He broke their quiet stillness first, gesturing awkwardly to the cup of tea he’d made for Phil on the bedside table.

“I-I made-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence as Phil had quickly strode over the space between them at the same time, and interrupted him with a crushing hug.

Dan gasped as he was squeezed in Phil’s arms wrapping around him tightly like Phil was afraid that he would disappear if he let go. The surprise dissipated soon enough and he brought his own arms around Phil.

Only then was Phil able to heave a breath of relief.

----------------------------

~Part 11~

the end is near :) and you’ll soon be free of having to wait 2 months between each update!!

[unknwnxquantity]

There’s this girl I had a thing with. We helped each other get over our situations and vent about our exes, this pain we felt from both our situations. I kinda just used her in the beginning to process my back and forth rollercoaster with my ex, while she genuinely cared for me as a person, even if it was just being my friend. I used her and hurt her. But we had this connection thru txt that was one of the most bizzare things Ive encountered: in the beginning of our txting it was as if I was talking back to myself; like I was her and typed out each response. Over the course of a little over a month, we went from me always ghosting her and talking to her when it was convenient, to her getting fed up with my excuses and basically said in so many words, “listen this is the last time I’m gonna try with u but I wanna hook up, u have until 7 tonight to respond back about what u wanna do.” And so... we hooked up in her car. Four hours into the night, until 330am.

Hooking up with her, we’ll call her IR, was a healing experience. My ex and I weren’t intimate for months and months until we broke up. She didn’t like sex, and I guess she was so hurt she just couldn’t trust me with her body the way she did before in our relationship. But since IR and I were both broken from our past confusions and circumstances with our exes, we just wanted to be friends with benefits. But being with someone in that way, the way our bodies fit like puzzle pieces, cuddling, opening up about some of our pasts, fully naked.. and just engaging on such a passionate experience, mind u this was the first time we ever met up... it did something to me. Being intimate snapped me out of the spiral i was going down with the ending of my ex and our situation. I felt really warm inside when I was with IR in those moments. And she felt the same too in her own way.

From then on we saw each other like multiple times in one week, like 6 times in total. Everything moved so quick, my feelings got so intense so... fukking fast. As did her feelings for me. We talked on the phone until 6am several nights, she’d come outside my house @12 or 1am and be hooking up until 3 to one time even 6am (I got in trouble but it was worth it). I met some of her family, she met mine (except my sister bc u gotta be real special to meet her) and came over to my house. I went to her sister’s place in upstate New York; 3 hr drive each way listening/jamming to throwbacks, holding hands, learning more of the other, runnin thru sprinklers.. she even thinks I’m her twin flame (she doesn’t fully understand the concept but I do feel a soul connection to her so I didn’t wanna shut her or the idea of that down), but the relationship she had with her ex made me think otherwise. We wrote each other two letters each to the other, both very descriptive, but with my second letter alluding to the possibility of me being in love with her. IN LOVEEE?! I mean.. I do feel intensely and reevaluating the things I said, I could see the confusion.. but she didn’t even wanna tell me unless I dragged an answer out of her?? She was being distant after that.. and also because things got too serious too quick, us professing strong feelings to each other.. and since the foundation of our friendship surrounded our feelings toward our exes, I had to really ask her “hey.... r u truly over ur ex?” And... she wasn’t. Here I was repeating the same fukking patterns. Jumping into something with someone so intensely , so fukking fast and not taking it slow; how do u expect different results by repeating the same fukking destructive patterns? My feelings were so confusing and complex for her, so deep yet kinda shallow. Like I wanted to fit her into this box of the person I wanted her to be in my life. I overromantize a lot and get so fukking attached. And then they fucking push me away bc I scared them too much. When I feel someone pushing me away, I have this overpowering fear to pull them right back in super hard. That never fukkin works out it just makes them lose mad respect for u and think ur a fucking joke or safe option (subconsciously). She felt for me but in her mind she felt I felt too much too soon, and she wasn’t prepared for such a shift. Neither was I but then here we were being intimate every single time we were with each other and holding hands.. cuddling. Kissing. Exploring. Inside jokes & synchronicities. I’m the first person to make her cum out of the ten bodies she’s had! I’m the first girl she’s been with, and she even revealed she sticks to what’s comfortable; which in her case is asshole men. I can’t hookup with anyone without developing deep feelings. I can’t separate the two AT ALL. Sex and intimacy is sacred, how do ppl fukk causally and not develop feelings?

Anyways in the end, IR chose to work things out with the ex bc she would’ve regretted it if she didn’t give him one last chance “like I kept giving my ex”. And that didn’t even last long, only like 4-5 days before he put his hands on her and they got in a big argument lmao. I don’t have those strong feelings anymore, but damn do I still wanna be her friend? Or do I like her? But she’s so cringe?? Lol idk.. I wanna talk to her tho. I really do but without feeling used or like a second option. She said I’m not , but I’ve learned, peoples words ain’t shit if it isn’t backed up by actions. I’ve already started sending her things even after asserting I wanted to be more than friends, nothing more and needed some space, but now I just wanna be friends.. she just wasn’t keeping me in the loop with her whole ex situation until I confronted her about it and I hate that shit. She always emphasized honesty!! And loving to call people out on their shit! But god forbid I do the same. I went back on my word even when I tried to place strong boundaries. I had to place them again with her when she told me about the recent situation where her ex got physical with her.. this is all just new to me.

I need to let time pass.. maybe it’s because she was the closest thing to a relationship I’ve felt to someone since my ex. I’m trying to really focus on healing myself, especially since all the other girls I was talking to didn’t work out or I wasn’t feeling them anymore. I feel I gotta be single for a long time, but I want her in my life, especially since she feels the connection too and wants to be friends. But is it disrespectful toward myself, like would I just be an easy go-to option? I don’t think she’s done done with the ex. Maybe she is.. I shouldn’t care tho. I need to be alone. Even tho I’ve been sending her stuff on ig and snap, I went back on my word by still contacting her only two weeks after this big thing took place where I found out she thought I was in love with her. I always see the good in ppl; their potential for greatness and to reach that. She’s on that spiritual path as I am with angel numbers, loa, manifestation and the signs/laws of the universe.. but am I just holding onto what was had in the past and not being realistic about the now? Did we ruin our potential by being engaged so soon? This whole thing happened in the span of two and a half months, with our friendship escalating in that past month and it ending like 2-3 weeks ago. Can I even be her friend at this point?? Does she even still think about our connection or has she moved on? I guess I’ll see, I’m just tryna make sense of it all.

[amateuranxiety]

Ken Rants About “Vanishing World” for Probably Way Too Long

Good evening. My name is Ken, I am a dumb, overanalyzing nerd, and I have completely fallen for the narrative Vocaloid producer Grey (a.k.a. Monstrosity) has set up in the first two songs of her series, Vanishing World. I know only two out of the ten-ish-maybe? songs have been released so far, but I’ve been stewing on my thoughts for a while now and I felt that I absolutely needed to get them down somewhere. in this essay i will- I hope that people are able to see this and possibly be interested in checking the series out? I just feel like it deserves a lot more attention. I highly recommend listening to all the work on her channel. https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCrq2qxXTl7u-YKeSqIJ5xZA Now, without further ado, I give you my analysis. i feel like im giving myself too much credit for my hyperfocused ramblings lol

WARNING!

This writing discusses themes of mass death and other death related subject matter. If you are disturbed by these things, then please proceed with caution. Stay safe.

Basic Plot Summary

Vanishing World is the story of the end of the world, and the beasts who cause it. One beast for every element or force of nature or whatever. So far, they seem to choose a human to “cooperate” with in order the wreak their havoc on Earth. Human resistances rise up around the world, although not much information has been provided about them yet. Our story begins in the twenty-fifth day of the month of June, they year 2000.......

Part 1: Aberrant Garden 

Kaylee Tagetes was a young girl with a remarkable, and almost scary, gift for gardening. However, as she grew, she spiraled out of control. She began fusing plants with other forms of existence, creating a deadly army for the first destruction god, Carnation. where are your parents??? Also she had this weird flower with a face growing out of her head, but I don’t think it’s that relevant also it just scares me so I’m just gonna ignore it unless I think something up about it, ok? Ok.

An investigator dispatched to “the site of the anomaly (I’m assuming this is Kaylee’s house)” finds this information and more inside of a conveniently placed exposition note that was probably just lying on the ground I guess. 

Some important things I want to highlight in the note:

“However, as she grew older, she became... curious about something. Almost like a mysterious force was feeding her thoughts. What was this thing she was curious about, you ask? Simple!

...”By what means? That part... shall remain a mystery.”

“...and it was at that moment when she was poisoned by a spider monster. Acid flowed through her veins. She fell, passed out from blood loss. Probably dead.”

“‘My name is Carnation, the Monster of Flora. You shall hear more about me in the afterlife- your time is up.’“

“Into a giant maw she was dropped... no one ever saw her again as Kaylee Tagetes.”

What these things mean (probably):

Every beast is able to get into the mind of its host and pretty much possess them and lead them to do what they want.

Whoever wrote the note wants the process of monster creation to remain a mystery.

Probably dead. Probably.

use your real name, nerd the one you made up sounds stupid

She was eaten. Trapped within the monster’s stomach.

Our investigator pal jumps on the bandwagon with his own exposition!

“In the year 2100, the apocalypses rises, fear the chrome god monsters and their trapped traitor humans.” 

He goes on about how weird it is that Carnation woke up 100 years before the rest. Also that note was pretty strange too I guess. But the question is, who wrote it? Well, my friend, it seems obvious that it was written by a human being, so I propose the theory that Kaylee herself wrote the note. I’ll explain my reasoning soon enough, but for it to make any sense at all (even though it still probably won’t), I need to move on to.......

quick note: the more i think about this the more stupid it sounds for reasons ill get into in a moment, but im just gonna keep the Kaylee Note Theory here in case it somehow leads to me having some grand revelation about the true author.

 edit:upon further reflection it may be possible, but i still think there is plenty of room for error within my theory.

Part 2: Ulterior Spectacle

Our Earth was at peace. Finally. But they didn’t let it last.

Stephan Alexander, nineteen year old photographer and the second traitor human in our story. Using a device gifted to him by the Monster of Ice, Morzogo, he is able to freeze any landscape and turn any human being into stone with the click of a button. This device is the grand Tundra Lens. One of the worst birthdays I’ve ever heard of ngl. He goes around killing millions over a period of five months because of what Morzogo had told him.

“They don’t deserve to see the world as you do. They deserve to be a part of a picture, do they not? Make them go still so you may have the perfect picture. Travel the world and make them allll stiiiill, so they’ll be with you forever.”

To summarize the end of the story:

 girl’s voice snaps him out of trance was that a pun?

instant regret for literal mass murder

suicide via medusa method (mirror, click, bye bye)

Also, if you watch the lovely PV, you’ll notice that that girl that brought him back to reality is literally Kaylee Tagetes. A twelve year old killed a chaos god of mass destruction that ate her after she was poisoned and lost a lot of blood. This takes place maybe around the year 2032 and she still looks 12. h o w ? guess she’s dead now idk all the humans are gonna be ghosts and talk about their poor life decisions in the afterlife i guess

So yeah that’s basically my explanation for my whole Kaylee wrote the note thing.

Explaining my Kaylee Note Theory:

I think I figured out how she killed Carnation. The poison in her blood. Ingesting that could have killed him. I don’t know what it takes to kill an old one or whatever those things are, but maybe??????

The prophesy just states that the human traitor are trapped. Not dead, right? dont know about poor stephan tho oof. unless the possession automatically gives you op protagonist powers. they’re probably still dead tho

I don’t know what motivation she would have for leaving the note behind though.

Maybe she wrote it as a ghost-type-person-thing????? idk i feel like im reaching at this point ive been typing for over an hour now.

also im not sure where to fit this in but some characters talk about The Crisis which is where humans randomly turn into monsters????? idk its just been brought up once so far so i dont know what to think of it.

Alright. The last thing I want to talk about today is.......

Zone-B and Codename:NULL

We first meet Codename:NULL in the description of Battle: Xelzerin (that’s Carnation’s real name btw. i guess he’s a dork who doesn’t think his full name sounds cool like me). She’s receiving an email from another Zone-B member, Codename:GANYMEDE, who basically gives us some information about Xelzerin we didn’t already know. Including the fact that Xelzerin isn’t dead??? i should have re-read everything before i started typing this has just turned into one big semi-organized mess im so sorry 

anyway!! foreshadowing about the Earth and Electric beasts, NULL’s name is revealed to be Madeline in the description of Ulterior Spectacle, and apparently Stephan froze over 70% of the world in only five months. Probably a rich kid.

if i weren’t so tired and had more information about a story that’s barely half-way done, i feel like i would be much more thorough with my analysis and theories. i may type out a part 2 once song three drops. until then, ill wait patiently. maybe ill choke out a little theory if i have a sudden revelation but nothing on this scale. maybe ill be able to choke out a timeline as well. i can barely spell i should probably stop hope you enjoyed sorry it go so messy towards the end especially right here ily goodbye.

proofreading: barely im sorry

[edsrich]

Bruised (Richie/Eddie) 1/12

Summary: It’s 1993 and the summer from many years ago is dead and gone. Many have drifted apart from the Losers club and its at the point where there is no club at all. The atmosphere is cold just like the winter months and the only blushes to be found are the ones that are caused from the piercing spikes of cold that heat skin up. Being a teenage boy is hard; especially for the two boys that now count each other as strangers. In which both boys make a plan, but both disrupt each others.

Warning(s): Suicide attempt?? , depression, mental illness’, mixture of fluff and angst throughout the series, homophobic slurs

A/N: Hi!! welcome to part 1 of IDK HOW MANY but ayy!! Honestly, i’M MAKING A TAG LIST FOR THIS SERIES SO IF ANYONE WHO DOESN’T WANNA FOLLOW ME OR WANTS TO BE NOTIFIED JUST ASK!!

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 

Richie Tozier brought the cigarette between his lips, letting the toxic smoke fill his decaying lungs and pulse throughout his insides and swirls around in each crevice of his body. He then takes away the cancer stick, after a moment blowing out the toxic waste into the thin November air.

Beverly Marsh raised an eyebrow at him, sitting across from the much taller boy on the brick wall with her own cigarette between her fingers. She watched as the smoke faded into nothing, sighing lightly as she proceeded to watch her best friend smoke away.

“You seem to be going heavy on the cigarettes today,” She paused, “I mean, isn’t that your fifth one in the past half hour?”

Richie shrugged, “I like smoking.”

Beverly eyed his cigarette with her green embers, frowning. “If you carry smoking on like that daily, you’ll die.”

“Well I obviously don’t smoke this much to look badass- as much as I am, Bev.” Richie grumbled, pushing his glasses up on his face.

“You’re worrying me a lot lately, how are your parents-”

“I don’t wanna talk about them, alright? I’m fine and I’m always fine. Look, I’m just moody as fuck today and I need a few more cig’s. I’ll lighten up soon, just getting used to my man period.”

Beverly laughed a little at that, running her free hand through her short ginger curls before taking a puff of her cigarette, flicking away the excess ash onto the bricks under her.

“A man period, huh? Must sucks, I wouldn’t know what it’s like.”

“Yeah, it fuckin’ sucks. I piss blood and shit like that, have to shove a few tampons up-”

“Beep beep, Richie.” Beverly grins.

That simple sentence took Richie back a few years for a moment, as he remembered his old friends that he had grown apart from due to his bad habits. He sighed, thinking of Ben, Stan, Mike, Ben and... Eddie. He quickly shook away the thoughts and nodded at Bev.

“Bottoms up, princess.” Richie lifted his cigarette up with his pinky finger high and clanked it against Beverly’s, before taking a quick puff again.

Beverly smirked at Richie, before stumping her cigarette out. “That’s me done for today.”

Richie frowned and watched as the ash disintegrated. “You coulda’ gave that to me, wasting a perfectly good cig.”

“I think you’ve had one too many for today, Tozier.” Beverly winked, trying to lighten the mood with a subtle hint of sarcasm to coat her seriousness and concern.

“Gosh, Bev. Shut up- you’re not my Mom.” Richie snapped, trying not to seem too harsh but his words had a bite to them.

Beverly furrowed her eyebrows before huffing, not saying anything more for a few minutes before finally piping up again. “I’m just being your friend and caring, since no one else seems to- someone has to.”

Richie flinched at her bluntness, but knew that she was telling the truth. Richie’s habits had slowly made him unravel away from others and not become a priority on others lists. 

Even his own parents didn’t give a shit about him.

Hell, his parents were the ones who funded the cigarettes for him. Every day he’d ask either his Mom or Dad for cigarette money and without any hesitation, they’d hand over 10 dollars.

“Well shit, where would I be without you?” Richie chuckled dryly, running his fingers through his dark brown locks that reached his jawline.

Beverly smiled, “You’d be lonely and homeless, probably.”

Richie then finished his own cigarette down to the stub, crushing the leftovers under his all black converse shoes. He flipped his hair back that fell in front of his eyes and looked to Bev. 

“Do you mind walking home by yourself today? I’m gonna stay behind after school.”

Beverly snorted loudly, “You? School?” She gasped, “I’ve never heard two words in one sentence before!”

“Extra credit, some stupid shit.” Pausing before speaking up again, “I’m failing in every class and I need to try, you know?”

Richie was a good liar, a great one in fact. He’s been lying for years. “Are you okay, Richie?”/“How are you doing, Richie?” Whenever anyone asked, which would only be Beverly nowadays, he was good at covering up what was reckoning with himself. The seventeen year old boy had learnt over the years that he wouldn’t be missed if he had left the planet, possibly by one person- that being Bev. But even Bev would get over him quickly, she’d probably be able to get over her smoking addiction too. After all, it was partly his fault for bringing it back up to the surface. Bev had Bill, not to mention Ben still fawning over her.

Richie didn’t even talk to them anymore.

The only person he had was Beverly and she didn’t even need him, whereas he needed her more than anything. She was all he had and she knew that.

“Well, shit alright then. I can hang out with Bill instead.” Beverly nodded, pushing herself off the wall. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess?”

Richie nodded, “Walk home safely.” 

Beverly smiled at him, “You have a nice night Rich.” With that, the ginger girl walked off down the street and away from the school building to which they both once sat outside of.

Richie watched her walk off, making sure she was safe whilst in his sight. A smile remained on his lips until she had vanished out of his sight, soon replaced by his natural void of emotion expression.

Richie jumps off the wall, landing on his feet and stuffs his hands in his pockets as he walks in the opposite direction and down the road.

“You fucking faggot!”

Punch, kick, punch.

“You ought’a be knocked straight.”

Eddie croaked out a strangled sob, attempting to protect himself from his usual bullies as much as he could. With his hands in front of his face and his knees tucked into his chest, cradling himself.

“Go pop some more fucking pills, maybe then you’ll overdose and the world will have one less faggot breathing.”

With that, Eddie’s box of tablets were quickly scattered against the concrete with the force of a shoe kicking the box open. Eddie’s eyes widened and he looked as the rainbows of the variety of pills for his health were disbanded elsewhere.

“Hey-”

Before Eddie could try and plead for the bullies to stop, a stomp to his head knocked him out clean.

“Eddie? Oh fuck, not again.” A voice muttered out, groaning almost.

Eddie could barely see, his eyes seemed to be glued shut. However, he could feel the immense pain that pulsed on his skin, possibly new bruises forming.

“Eddie, I don’t wanna do the water thing again, wake up dude.”

Eddie’s eyes cracked open in little slits, seeing a buff form kneeling next to him.

“Mike?”

Mike smiled sadly, chuckling. “You got yourself into another one of these situations again?”

Eddie sat up with the help from his friend, cracking his neck and sighing. “By coming out as gay, then yeah. I suppose so.”

Mike frowned at Eddie’s words, patting his back to somehow comfort the fragile boy, “The best thing you could’ve done was come out Eddie. You’re so brave and despite knowing how awful the kids are at school, you still did it.”

“But if I wasn’t gay in the first place then maybe I wouldn’t be in this situation. Again.” Eddie spat, biting his words at himself.

Ever since Eddie came out to friends and family about his sexuality, he already regretted it the next day. His mother had taken him to several councillors about ‘mental health problems’, his friends distanced themselves from certain activities with him and bullying was never so brutal.

Mike grabbed Eddie’s shoulder, “I don’t wanna hear you say shit like that, Eddie. You’re perfect the way you are, your sexuality doesn’t define you.”

Eddie glanced at Mike and sighed sadly but nodded anyway, “Thank you.”

Mike gave a comforting smile and ruffled up Eddie’s hair before collecting the boys pills for him, grabbing the small blue container and placing them all in the right places as Eddie sat and watched.

Mike eventually handed the full container back to Eddie and Eddie quietly put the blue box in his fanny pack.

“You know, if they are gazebos, then why do you still take them?” Mike asked in genuine curiosity.

“Its just a routine, something I feel the need to do...” Eddie trailed off before shrugging, “I don’t know.”

Mike sighed, holding his hand out for Eddie to take which he gladly took. Mike pulled him up to his feet for support, patting off any dirt that remained on the boys attire.

“Thanks Mike, I uh- I should get going now.”

Mike nodded, smiling. “Say hi to the other guys for me, I barely see them anymore with work. It was great seeing you again, and hey- don’t you ever feel ashamed of yourself Kaspbrak.” Mike paused, before waving his hand. “Adios.”

Eddie waved timidly, watching Mike rushing off with a sack hanging over his bag, possibly from him doing a job.

“Bye.” Eddie whispered, his hand grabbing his fanny pack for emotional support.

A few days later, Richie sat in class with several others around him, familiar people from his past included.

Richie was no longer the cocky trashmouth that wouldn’t be afraid to be the class clown, no. He was a different person due to all of the changes in his life. He’d act like himself around Bev and only Bev, No one ever saw the old Richie anymore, he was dead and gone.

Richie slowly became irritated at the sounds around the classroom, for example. Some random kid thought it was fucking amazing and decided to piss the teacher off badly, now he was lecturing the whole class about something he couldn’t give two shits about. Another kid was tapping his pencil against his desk in an uneven rhythm and another kid was throwing spit balls around the class.

He needed to get away from here, now.

Richie waited for the teacher to turn around and start scribbling his chalk against the board angrily, before he slid up- despite the strange looks he received, he simply walked out without a care in the world.

Yet, no one even cared that he left.

The teacher looked to his side, seeing Richie’s figure fade out into the hallway and he shook his head, scribbling more.

“Now kids, that’s a perfect example of a person you shouldn’t be.” He of course, was talking about Richie.

Richie ignored his comment; speeding down the hall whilst his feet echoed down the empty hall, making their way towards the steps in order to reach his destination.

He fidgeted with his keys in his pocket, letting a sigh racket from his lips, with his feet making their way up towards the roof of the school, which was nothing out of the norm for Richie. He and Bev would smoke here all the time, only today however was different.

He wanted to do more than smoke himself to death today.

Eddie whimpered, being flung into the dark navy lockers- his temple smacking against the cooling surface which caused him to collapse to the ground. He felt the blood trickling down his nose, to which he raised his sleeve and held it against the liquid to stop it from trickling further. A hiss left his lips as his nose stung and tingled his brain senses.

“Get the fuck up, faggot.” One of his bullies hissed. 

Eddie tried to do as he was told, trying to grab onto the locker to hoist himself up- but to no avail, Henry only kicked him back down.

Eddie let out a pained yelp, falling on his face to further make his nose bleed more. His head shook with pain due to his forming headache and the overwhelming situation.

“Have a dashing weekend, twink.” His new found bully friend, spat down at Eddie before another laughed, pushing him along to leave elsewhere.

Eddie glared at their passing figures, wiping away the blood that dripped onto the floor below. Eddie couldn’t help but glance around at the small attention the scene received. Everyone was watching, but none were helping. Even Bill, who watched in nothing but sympathy.

“Shows over.” Eddie whispered harshly, grasping the locker to help him to his feet.

“E-Eddie-”

“No Bill, fuck off.” Eddie hissed, tears brimming his water line with his fingers jittering as he brought his inhaler to his lips, taking a strong puff.

“Eddie, i’m-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, you’re not sorry and you’re not my friend. I stick up for you every time, every fucking time, this happens daily and not once you help.”

“E-Eddie, stop. I just...”

“You just what? You’re scared? Big Bill is scared?” Eddie started to cause a scene, his voice raising by every passing second.

Bill’s eyes were wide in shock at how Eddie was talking to him, but he remained silent.

“You’re not my fucking friend. Are you homophobic too, is that it?” Eddie knew he was over reacting, but he didn’t care. “Is that why you don’t help me, huh? You just watch?”

Bill’s eyes were wide in not only shock now, but hurt. “Y-You think I’m h..homophobic?”

“Well why else, Bill? Why else would you just leave me there?!” Eddie’s voice raised, his hand shaking with the light blue inhaler tight in his fist. 

Bill shook his head, “I..I’ll see you on Monday Eddie.” With that, Bill rushed off with his head low.

People stared at Eddie with a mixture of disgust and of pity, both of which he hated. He hated it when others pitied him or were disgusted of him. Eddie looked around, realising these looks and he quickly grabbed his bag from the floor and pushed through the small crowd, holding back his tears and rushing off down the corridor, people watched him go but didn’t offer a shoulder to cry on.

With each step Eddie took, he felt more bruises form on his arms and shoulders and anywhere else he was kicked or punch by his bullies. This wouldn’t happen much anymore hopefully.

Eddie rushed up the steps to the school, gripping the handle rail with his clammy hands. His head swung full of anxiety and anger, swirling and attacking at his emotions over and over again. He made it to the second floor of his school, before swinging himself up the next flight of stairs to ramble over. His destination was the roof.

He needed everything to stop.

His breaths only became heavier as he shoved open the door that was now in front of him after climbing the mountain of stairs. The door made a large creak throughout the silent air, causing a disturbance to perhaps anyone up here. However, no one was. It was empty.

That was perfect for Eddie.

Eddie closed the door, before walking out across the abandoned roof which was full of dead potted plants and green gardens that had failed. He walked around the entrance to the other side of the roof, looking at his feet whilst he did so.

Was he really about to do this?

Eddie sighed shakily, tilting his head up to look ahead of him- only for him to see another shadow standing around the next corner. Eddie tilted his head in confusion before turning around the small box that belonged to the fire escape entrance to cover it up from any rain or harsh weather. 

Eddie gasped, begging his eyes to deceive him. A tall lanky figure was stood at the edge of the rooftop with his toes hanging off. A mere cigarette between the index finger and the middle finger, whilst Eddie held his inhaler.

“Richie?!”

The figure almost fell forward whilst stood at the edge in complete shock, looking back with those large coke bottle glasses. Him almost falling caused Eddie to rush forward with a hand out for Richie to grab.

“Eds?”

Eddie felt his chest tighten at the nickname he had not heard in several years, Eddie felt water leak from his eyes at the nostalgia and memories of the two old friends flooded back as his emotions poured out. His head was tilted in confusion and shock to see Eddie, just as much as Eddie was to see Richie. The two were complete polar opposites now. Eddie raised his hand higher for Richie to take, saying no words as none would form due to his throat becoming dry as realisation dawned upon him.

Both Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie Tozier had came to the rooftop to kill themselves on this late Friday afternoon.