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P5R: Rebel Girl (A FeMC Story/P5R Rework) Chapter 205: Sae's Palace: Act 2

November 6th. Today was the day. The thieves gathered at Leblanc before attending Sae’s trial. “Alright,” Ren said. “Do we have any new information?”

“Well,” Futaba interjected, “Riko and I came up with a ploy to make sure things go smoothly on the other side during the heist.”

“Will it work?” Ryuji asked.

“I think so,” Futaba answered.

“Well, that’s a good start,” Ren said.

“Oh, um, that reminds me,” Haru said. She took out a small drive and handed it to Futaba. “Here. It’s the data you wanted.” “Heh heh,” Futaba chuckled. “Perfect! With this, we can cross-reference the schematics of Starfall Coffee with my mom’s notes.”

“Sorry I didn’t get it back earlier,” Haru apologized. “I know I got this from you the day after Halloween, but I had trouble getting to the right computer without getting noticed.”

“No biggie,” Futaba said. “I’m glad you managed to do it at all.”

“Well, being the heiress has its advantages,” Haru chuckled.

“So, the plan is still to send the calling card at the last possible moment?” Makoto asked.

Ren nodded. “That’s right. As long as the warrant isn’t live, and the director is under suspicion, the ball is in our court.”

“But what happens after that?” Ann asked.

“I suppose we just need to leave luck to Heaven,” Yusuke said.

“Although I don’t think Heaven’s going to like our thievery,” Jose remarked.

“It’s a gamble for sure,” Ren said. “Eris even told me as such. Something is going to happen regardless of what we do. Our moves here are to get in a position where we aren’t worse for wear.”

“I’ve got an uneasy feeling about that…” Lena said.

“I think we all do,” Morgana assured her. “But we’ve come this far already, and we have no intention of stopping now!”

Lena chuckled. “Thanks Morgana.”

“By the way, how is the research into the director coming along Futaba?” Sumire asked.

“Riiiight…” Futaba said. “The man is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma. Publicly, he seems to be a well-respected prosecutor, and a well-meaning family man. But every time I dig, it’s like the trail goes cold. Well, apart from one thing.”

“Go on,” Ren instructed.

“I looked into his son murdering his wife,” Futaba explained. “From what I can find, the method used was to slip her sleeping pills to make sure she fell asleep in the bath to make it look like she just passed out and drowned. And you’ll never guess how the director’s wife died…”

“You’re kidding!” Ryuji said.

“I wouldn’t joke about this thing,” Futaba said.

“Hold on,” Makoto said. “I know my sister. She should have seen the similarity.”

“Perhaps,” Yusuke said. “But correlation doesn’t equal causation. I’m sure it would be difficult to prove that the director did the same thing at this point.”

“I guess that’s true…” Makoto said.

“Still,” Sumire said, “given his connection to whoever is in charge, I think it’s safe to say it’s at least possible.”

“Oh yeah,” Jose said. “That reminds me. Whoever is really in charge is the same person who that principal was talking about, right?” Everyone nodded. “And we think he came from that wall of water to take us out?”

“Oh, right!” Futaba said. “There’s that too.”

“We should come up with a plan to investigate it,” Yusuke said.

“I think the next time we go to Mementos, we should make that our first stop,” Lena suggested.

“I agree,” Haru said.

“But, um, how?” Ann said. “It’s a literal wall of water. It’s not going to be easy to investigate.”

“I think we can get some rope,” Ren said. “We attach it to someone, and they go out to explore. They tug when they want to come back, and the rest of us pull.”

“Seems simple enough,” Ryuji said.

“But who will investigate?” Makoto said.

“I think it should be someone light,” Jose said. “So the rest of us can pull easier.”

“But it also has to be someone who can make a good amount of ground,” Morgana said. “I’m fairly light, but…well…I don’t take to water too well.”

“I’ll do it,” Sumire offered.

Everyone was shocked. “You will?” Ann said.

Sumire nodded. “I’m fairly light, but I’m also quick and nimble. I think I have the best shot at this.”

“Are you sure?” Ren asked.

“Yes,” Sumire said, smiling. “I know it’ll be alright, because I trust you all.”

Ren smiled. “Right. Of course.” She sighed.

Sumire chuckled. “It’s OK. I know you worry because you care.”

“Yeah,” Ren admitted.

“Is there anything else?” Haru asked.

“I think that’s about as much as we can glean for now,” Futaba said.

“Well then,” Makoto said, “I suggest we go see sis put on a show.” Everyone nodded, and they headed out.

In the courtroom, the thieves had assembled. “Woah,” Ryuji remarked. “This place seems imposing…”

“I get that it’s meant to be a little imposing,” Yusuke said, “and by technicality, we are criminals, but it does seem a bit much.”

“Remember,” Makoto said. “The system isn’t 100% fair.”

“Yeah,” Lena said. “Although, I guess the justice system all across the world needs improvement.”

“And I think we should advocate for such improvement,” Ren said. “But right now, we can’t vote, so our voices don’t have as much of an impact just yet. So let’s just do what we came here to do and bring about change as…well, you know.”

“Right,” Lena said.

“So, what’s the trial about anyway?” Sumire asked.

“I believe it’s for a government official who has been embezzling funds,” Makoto said.

“Gah! What a piece of shit,” Ryuji noted. “Hoarding our money like that?”

“I know how you feel,” Ann said, “but maybe we should remain calm. We don’t want to get kicked out before it starts.”

“I know…” Ryuji said.

“I think it’s about to begin!” Haru said.

Sae walked in the room. “Um, will she notice us?” Jose said.

“Yeah, we do need to make sure we are seen,” Sumire said.

“Don’t worry,” Makoto said. “I told her I was coming. I’m sure she’ll notice you all too.”

“Even me?” Morgana said.

“Probably,” Makoto said.

Sae glanced over at the audience. She did a double-take when she saw Makoto. “Oh, that’s right. She said she was watching. Hmmm. Who’s she sitting by?” She glanced over the rest of the troupe. “Hmmm.”

“All rise,” the bailiff called out. Sae didn’t have time to ponder any further. She had a job to do. But once she was done, she could focus her full attention on The Phantom Thieves.

The trial didn’t take too long. It was a fairly open and shut case, and Sae was on top of her game. The thieves watched the whole trial, and still had enough time to slip into Sae’s palace. Once they were back in, Ren said “Alright everyone, are you ready?” They all nodded. “Good. Let’s go.” They headed in.

On the elevator ride up, Ryuji noted. “Wow Queen. Your sis was UNRELENTING! I think we need to prepare ourselves even more if we’re going to fight her.”

“What makes you think we’ll fight her?” Makoto asked. “Remember, the director’s presence here will probably make their move as well. We might spend more time focusing on him.”

“Besides,” Futaba added, “it’s not like you fought me when I was both the Palace Ruler and the Crusader.”

“I guess that’s true,” Ryuji said.

“I think we still need to be careful,” Sumire said. “Yours and her circumstances are a bit different.”

“I agree,” Yusuke said. “It wouldn’t surprise me if we had to fight her, at least for a bit.”

Makoto frowned. “Hey,” Ren said. Makoto looked up. “She’ll end up for the better because of this. We’re here to make sure of that.”

Makoto smiled. “Right.”

They arrived at the Exclusive Member’s Suit, nary a blockade in sight. “Let’s go,” Ren instructed. Everyone stepped off, and headed out.

Morgana glanced around. “Hmmmmmmm.”

“Something on your mind, Mona-chan?” Haru asked.

“I think I sense the last Will Seed,” Morgana replied.

“Already?” Yusuke asked.

“The signal is weak though,” Morgana explained. “I think we ought to get our bearings first before we explore.”

“Well, there appears to be a kiosk straight ahead,” Jose said. “Let’s see what they have.” They walked over.

Ren went up to talk to the manager behind the desk. “Hello, good sir.”

“Hello,” the manager replied. “By the way, as a welcoming gift to the Exclusive Member’s Suit, I hereby offer you an extra 1,000 Fashion Points.”

“Oh. Sweet!” Ren said. “I don’t suppose we could meet with Miss Niijima as well, could we?” she asked.

“Well, her office is just beyond the door above me,” the manager said. “But she doesn’t meet with just anyone.”

“Well, we aren’t just anyone,” Ren said.

“Oh my,” the manager said. “You talk a big game, but talk is cheap. I suggest you see what’s beyond the door and then come back>.

“Very well,” Ren said. She instructed her team to follow her, and they made their way up to the door.

On the other side, they saw a set of scales. “What is that?!” Makoto yelped.

“Are those scales?” Yusuke wondered.

“Or is it a bridge?” Jose wondered.

“I think it’s both scales and a bridge!” Ann exclaimed.

“So, how do we access the bridge part of it?” Ryuji asked.

“I think I see something over here,” Sumire said, pointing to a vanity.

Everyone closed in on it. “Hmmm,” Ren said. “It seems like we need 100,000 Fashion Points to make it through.”

“That’s CRAZY!” Morgana shouted. “We spent all of that time and effort to get half as much!”

“Is there a way for you to hack it, Oracle?” Lena asked.

“Ummm, I don’t think so?” Futaba said.

"Oh yeah," Lena said. "It's a vanity, not a computer."

“Well, we just have to get more Fashion Points,” Yusuke relented.

“Right,” Haru said. “And we are in the Exclusive Member’s Suit. I think we might have an opportunity to get more points quicker.”

“Couldn’t we just do the things we already rigged?” Ryuji asked.

“I think they’ll catch on to that quickly,” Makoto said.

“Besides, we should always be on the move,” Jose said.

“Also, I imagine it’d be faster to get more points on this floor, as opposed to keeping going,” Ann said.

Ryuji sighed. “Fine.”

Ren smirked. “Let’s head back to the desk and see what we have here.” They left, and headed back to the kiosk.

“I take it you understand now?” the manager asked upon their return.

“Correct,” Ren said. “Now, what are the attractions on this floor?”

“Of course,” the manager said. “Over there is our Heels Training Room, and over there is the Battle Arena.”

“The Battle Arena?” Ren wondered.

The manager nodded. “That is the most difficult part of this Fashion Show. I would suggest doing Heels Training first.”

Ren nodded. “Very well.” She regrouped with the others. “Did you catch that?”

“Yeah…” Ryuji said. “And I don’t care what he says, I think a Battle Arena is WAY less difficult than Heels Training.”

“I concur!” Futaba said. “And I’m not even a fighter!”

“Well, as much as you might think that,” Makoto said, “I don’t think they would lie to us.”

“Besides, if you need any help, I’m an old hand,” Ann said.

“Me too,” Haru said.

“Is it too late to go back and stack the money in the games we already rigged?” Ryuji asked.

“I’d say so,” Lena said, reluctantly.

“Figures,” Ryuji said.

“Hold it!” Morgana said. “Before we do anything, there’s still the matter of the Will Seed.”

“Oh right,” Jose said.

“The signal disappeared when we went out to the bridge,” Morgana explained. “So it HAS to be in here. But it’s still faint.

“Well, what if it’s up?” Sumire suggested.

“Up?” Morgana wondered.

“That’s right,” Sumire said. “I mean, last time it was faint, the Will Seed was up.”

“Huh. I guess that’s possible,” Morgana said.

“So, now all we need is a way to get up,” Yusuke said.

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” Ren said. “Let’s look around.” The Thieves looked around for a bit, before climbing on some pillars, and then finding a spot to grapple up to. Once there, they took to the rafters, eventually finding a vent to crawl through.

On the other side, they saw the last Will Seed Door, as well as a powerful shadow guarding it. “So, this is it, huh,” Makoto remarked.

“We’ll finally see what cultivated this palace in the first place,” Futaba noted.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Haru asked.

“Positive,” Makoto said. “I don’t want any regrets.”

“I understand,” Haru said.

“Well, now that our resolve is steeled,” Ren said, “all we have to do is get past this guy. You ready?”

“HELL YEAH!” Ryuji cheered.

“Let’s do this!” Makoto said.

They approached the powerful-looking shadow. “Oh dear. This place is off limits.”

“We’re thieves!” Futaba said. “We don’t care about your rules!”

“Hm. Well then, I suppose it’s my job to MAKE you care!” the shadow said. The Phantom Thieves and the Shadow battled. While this was their first encounter in the palace for today, the shadow came out swinging. Still, the thieves managed to eke out a victory.

“Now that that’s taken care of…” Ren said. She cut the vines and opened the door.

Everyone pooled in, as Ren grabbed the last Will Seed. The voices started playing. “NO!” shouted Nobuyuki.

“Why not?!” Sae shouted back.

“That escalated quickly,” Ann noted.

“I don’t trust the man!” Nobuyuki said.

“You think I do?!” Sae said.

“You trust him enough to betray your ideals,” Nobuyuki said.

“I’m not betraying my ideals!” Sae said. “I believe there is good in the world, and that our justice system needs reform. I can do that from the inside!”

Nobuyuki sighed. “I know being a prosecutor is more lucrative than being a defense attorney. But like I said, I don’t trust him!”

“Do you trust me?” Sae asked, snidely.

“Yeowch!” Lena said.

“It’s not a matter of trusting you,” Nobuyuki said. “A parent’s job is to make sure their child doesn’t get hurt.”

“Well guess what?!” Sae snapped. “I’m not a child anymore!”

“Then why are you acting like one?” Nobuyuki shot back.

“Hooooooo boy,” Ryuji said.

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Sae said. “How many times have you said the words ‘Night Raider’ this week?”

“Hey!” Futaba protested. “Night Raider is for all ages!”

“That’s different,” Nobuyuki said.

“I’m taking the job!” Sae insisted.

Nouyuki sighed once again. “Alright, fine. If you won’t listen to reason… I won’t even say ‘Told you so’ when he inevitably undermines you.”

“You don’t trust me,” Sae said.

“I never said that,” Nobuyuki said.

“You just did!” Sae insisted. “You think he’ll get the drop on me. You don’t have faith that I’ll be the one to get the drop on him.”

“That’s not me disparaging you,” Nobuyuki said. “The man is a crafty, remorseless, cur! He’d shoot a kid in the face if it meant saving his own skin.”

“Hm,” Sae grunted. “If this is the mind of a brilliant detective, then I pray for the safety of our citizens.”

“You know I’m right,” Nobuyuki said. Silence. “Like I said, I’m not going to stop you. But just think carefully, you know? I don’t want you in over your head.”

Sae sighed. “I’m sorry.” That’s where the voices ended.

“That…was a lot,” Sumire said.

“Were you aware of this conversation beforehand?” Yusuke asked.

“No,” Makoto said. “I mean, I knew my dad wasn’t enthusiastic when my sister said she was going to work for the SIU. But I didn’t know it got to this point.”

“It sounds like your father really hated the SIU director,” Jose pointed out.

“Has that always been the case?” Lena asked.

“I don’t know,” Makoto said. “I know he didn’t like him, but I don’t know if that was always the case, or if that was a later development.”

“Well,” Ren said, “whatever the case, I think I can hazard a guess as to what’s coming next. Are you ready?”

Makoto sighed. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” Makoto said.

Ren nodded. She fused all the Will Seeds together, forming The Crystal of Envy. It began projecting a video. The video showed Sae looking at a memorial shrine for her father. The only light was the moon shining through the windows. Sae had a sad look on her face. “Well, it looks like you won’t even get a chance to say ‘told you so’ to not take.” Tears fell from her face. “Why?! Why did this have to happen?! I’m sorry! I know I can’t be you! But I will do my best! I will protect Makoto! I will protect the innocent! I will try harder than ever to bring about a better world for all!”

She sniffled. “But in order for me to do so, I will have to go to Hell and back. The people who killed you…they aren’t going to be caught by conventional methods. So I need to bide my time and make sure I can take every opportunity to seize power. I know it’s not like you, or mom, but I can’t let what happened to you happen again.” She smirked. “And when I’m in control, I won’t let it.”

The video ended. “Well…” Makoto said. “I can’t say I’m familiar with that moment either.”

“It was night,” Sumire said. “Perhaps you were sleeping.”

“Most likely,” Makoto said. “Sis isn’t one to show weakness like that in front of others.”

“Well, in any case,” Yusuke said, “it seems very apparent what caused your sister to follow this trajectory.”

“I mean…” Lena said. “I can’t say her ideals aren’t good, but…”

Makoto nodded. “You’re right. She even said herself, she was going through Hell. So let’s work on dragging her out of it!”

“Well said,” Ren said. “But first, we need more fashion points!”

“Why couldn’t this give us any?” Ryuji said.

“Be grateful,” Morgana said. “That Will Seed replenished our power, and we needed that after taking on that powerful shadow.”

“I guess you’re right,” Ryuji said. “Let’s roll!” The thieves left the Will Seed area, and headed back to the main area in the Exclusive Member’s Suite.

They headed towards the Heels Training Room. Futaba read the placard once more. “‘Heels Training Room Rules: Participants will be made to wear heels and traverse a darkened maze. It costs 1,000 Fashion Points to begin, but if you make it out, you get 10,000 Fashion Points.”

“Woah!” Ryuji said. “That’s a lot.”

“I agree,” Haru said. “I suppose the floor is high risk, high reward.”

“So, we just do this a few times?” Jose asked.

“I think once is more than enough,” Futaba said.

“Well, we still have to investigate the battle arena,” Sumire pointed out. “Why don’t we keep this as a back up?”

“Fair enough,” Yusuke said.

“Are you ready to strut your stuff?” Ren said.

“I guess…” Morgana said.

“Then let’s head in,” Ren instructed. They headed into the Heels Training room.

Upon entry, they saw a manager at the gate. “I take it you’re here to participate?”

“Of course!” Ren said.

“That’ll be 1,000 Fashion Points,” the manager said.

“Here you go!” Ren said.

“Very good,” the manager said. “Now, step through the gate. Once you enter the door, you’ll be in the maze. Once you reach the other side, you’ll receive your prize.”

“Thank you,” Ren siad. The Phantom Thieves nervously stepped through the gate. Once they got on the other side, they felt a strange sensation. Pairs of metallic 3-inch heels magically manifested themselves on their feet. “Oh my!”

“This feels weird,” Ann said.

“Is this not normal?” Ryuji said.

“I think it’s about the right height for a normal set of heels,” Haru said. “I think the shoes are just heavy.”

Sumire clicked her heels. “Not only that, but they’re kind of loud as well.”

“And we’ll be in the dark,” Morgana said.

“Welp, it’s too late now!” Ren said. “We already paid.”

“I guess the only way out is through, huh,” Lena said. The thieves entered the maze.

They were greeted by total darkness. “Why am I not surprised?” Ryuji said.

Futaba had some trouble maintaining her balance. “Woah!”

“I gotcha!” Yusuke said, steadying her.

“Thanks Inari,” Futaba said. She cleared her throat. “As if walking around in these wasn’t bad enough, I sense a bunch of shadows in the area.”

“I think the reason they’re this loud is to attract said shadows,” Jose said.

“While that may be true,” Makoto pointed out, “there’s also the idea of women both needing to wear them to be more feminine, while at the same time getting discriminated against for it. You can hear heels walking down the hall, and you already know you’re going to be talking with a woman. I remember reading somewhere that even when applicants for an orchestra were going in for a blind audition, people could still pick out the women because of their heels.”

“Not to mention they aren’t the easiest things to walk in,” Haru added. “While I am used to them, it is something you need to get used to.”

“And I take it THAT’S the function of this room,” Ren said.

“Trial by fire,” Lena surmised.

“Welp!” Ryuji said. “Let’s just find the end of this maze and get this over with.”

“Um, try not to rush,” Haru said. “It’s possible to run in heels, but you need to walk before you can run.” Ryuji sighed.

They started making their way through the maze. The heels definitely proved difficult, even for those who were more used to them. Attracting and then fighting the shadows as much as they did didn’t help either. There was a point where they thought they found an exit, but the door was locked. After some more venturing, and with as much sneakiness as they could afford, they managed to find the exit.

Once they exited, Ryuji remarked. “I never want to do that again.”

“Ugh, me either,” Futaba said. “Is the room spinning, or is that just me?”

“I think that’s just you,” Yusuke said. “Although perhaps getting a taste of this spinning room would make for a good art piece.”

“I kind of liked it,” Jose said.

Ann chuckled. “Do you want to try on some heels back in the real world?”

“Maybe,” Jose said.

“YOU!” an ominous voice shouted. The thieves turned to see a shadow. “You weren’t supposed to actually make it!”

“Well tough,” Ren said. “We made it through your maze, and looked good doing it!”

“Well, it’ll be the last time you look good,” the shadow said. “Because I’m going to beat you black and blue!” He readied his stance.

“So, you never intended on giving us the Points, huh?” Makoto said.

“NOPE!” the shadow replied.

“Well, in that case, we’ll just have to take them!” Haru declared. The thieves fought the powerful shadow at the end of the maze. Surprisingly, they had an easy time, since they had been practicing how to fight in heels in the maze. Once the shadow was defeated, the heels magically shattered, and they gained their Fashion Points.

“So, I’m thinking that even if we wanted to,” Lena said, “I doubt they’d let us do the maze again.”

“Fine by me!” Futaba said.

“Hm hm,” Haru chuckled. “You were getting the hang of it by the end. Maybe you can come over to my place and practice sometime.”

“I’m not ready to go back,” Futaba said.

“Well then, let’s move forward,” Ren said. The group moved on to the Battle Arena.

They stopped, and Futaba once again read the plaque outside the facility. “‘Battle Arena: A series of fights to determine who is the best. The challenger only sends in one person, while the champion may send in as many combatants as they want. The cost of entry for the challenger is 10,000 Fashion Points, but if they win, they get 100,000 Fashion Points. Audience Members may also place bets on who will win. The champion’s rate is 1:1, while the challenger’s rate is 23:0. Current Champion: Sae Niijima.’”

“What?” Ryuji said. “This makes the least sense of all the attractions we’ve seen so far.”

“Actually…” Makoto interjected. “This is the most direct one yet.”

“How do you figure?” Yusuke asked.

“Well, my sister is always muttering stuff about how as a woman she has to work twice as hard to earn half the respect,” Makoto clarified. “I assume her being the champion represents the countless hours of blood, sweat, and tears she put in to get the position she has. Maybe even the position she foresees herself being in.”

Haru pouted. “I believe I overheard my father talking about something similar once. He was discussing the idea of arranging my marriage because he was afraid that the business world would be cruel to me.”

“Noir…” Morgana said.

“Gah, that sucks,” Ryuji said.

“Yeah…” Ann said. “But did you hear? We’ll get enough Fashion Points to cross the bridge!”

“Hm,” Makoto chuckled. “You’re right. The best we can do for now is keep our eye on the ball.”

“But, um, who will enter as the challenger?” Jose said.

“I think that’s obvious,” Morgana said.

Ren chuckled. “You know me too well.”

“Well, Joker is the leader,” Lena said.

“Not only that,” Futaba said, “but her combat skills are unique amongst our ranks.”

“Well then,” Morgana said, “let’s head inside.” Everyone nodded and went in.

Ren walked up to the desk. “Hey there.”

“Hello,” the manager said. “Are you here to challenge the area?”

Ren nodded. “That’s correct.”

“Hm,” the manager smirked. “A bold choice. You know this won’t be easy.”

“Nothing worth fighting for is,” Ren retorted.

“Very well,” the manager said. “I will require 10,000 Fashion Points.”

“Here you go,” Ren said.

The manager took the points. “Excellent. One more question: What do you want it to say on your tombstone?”

“Bold of you to assume I’m going to lose,” Ren shot back.

“Famous last words,” the manager said. They opened the gate. “Go on in.” Ren nodded, careful not to say a word. Instead, she gave a thumbs up to her crew.

The rest of the thieves went to the stands to watch the fight. Ren was standing in the middle of the arena. An announcer’s voice rang out over. “Good evening everyone! How are we doing tonight?!”

“Riko?” Makoto wondered.

The voice of this palace's version of Riko continued. “We have a special match for you tonight! This Phantom Thief thinks they can take on the trial of the champion to topple her!’ There was booing from the rest of the crowd.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Morgana said.

“YOU GO JOKER!” Futaba shouted.

Riko chuckled. “But fret not! Miss Niijima is the champion for a reason! This kid has no idea what kind of Hell she’s been through! So, let’s start the festivities, shall we? I’m thinking three rounds, each tougher than the last!” Two Ganesha appeared. The crowd started booing again.

“KICK THEIR ASSES, JOKER!” Ann called out.

“YEAH! GIVE ‘EM ONE FOR ME!” Ryuji added. Ren nodded.

“And BEGIN!” Riko shouted. The battle commenced. It was a tough battle, especially since Ren was fighting alone, but she managed to make it through the first round.

“I don’t believe it!” Riko shouted. “The Phantom Thief actually made it past the first round! Well, that just shows that we’ve always underestimated them. Round two!” Three Rangda appeared.

“DON’T LET THEM WIN!” Yusuke shouted.

“YEAH, YOU’RE BETTER THAN ALL OF THEM!” Jose yelled. Ren cracked her neck.

“And BEGIN!” Riko shouted. The second round was off. Without much breathing room, things were getting hectic for Ren. However, she managed to overcome the odds and win the fight.

“The Phantom Thief actually SURVIVED round two?!” Riko said. “Hm. No matter. NOBODY but SAE has made it past round three. EVER!”

“Someone’s desperate,” Morgana noted. A single Thor appeared.

“How come only one enemy this time?” Jose wondered.

“It might only be one,” Futaba said, “but they are tougher than the first two combined!”

“YOU CAN DO IT JOKER!” Haru shouted.

“YOU’VE OVERCOME WORSE!” Lena assured. Ren took a deep breath.

“BEGIN!” Riko shouted. The match started. Just as Futaba noticed, the match was rough. Ren was getting some good hits in, but so was the Thor. Between that and Ren having to face the previous two rounds was a lot to bear. She was struggling to stay on her feet.

Sumire then shouted. “YOU CAN WIN!” Ren looked up. “I KNOW YOU CAN WIN! YOU SAVED ME! YOU CAN DO ANYTHING!”

“SHE’S RIGHT!” Makoto said. “YOU ARE STRONGER THAN MY SISTER! YOU CAN DO THIS!”

Ren smiled. She channeled all her energy into a swing of her dagger. Twirling through the air, she sliced the Thor. Just as she was at her limit, the Thor was at his. He bled out, and then fell to the ground in defeat!”

The audience was stunned silent. Meanwhile, The Phantom Thieves cheered immensely. “Hm,” Riko said, over the speakers. “As much as it pains me to say it, The Phantom Thief won the challenge!” The thieves in the stand cheered some more, while Ren let out a sigh of relief.

As everyone met with Ren after she left the area, the manager approached her and said “Well, it looks like I’ll be eating crow tonight. Here are your 100,000 Fashion Points.” He gave her the points.

“Thanks,” Ren said.

“Shall we lower the bridge now?” Futaba asked.

“Give me a minute,” Ren said. “That was exhausting. But your guys’ cheers got me through it.”

Sumire giggled. “Of course. We are a team after all.”

“Hm. Yeah,” Ren agreed. They took a quick break to let Ren catch her breath before heading to the bridge.

Once there, they looked at the bridge once more. “I believe that the treasure is on the other side,” Makoto said.

“So all we have to do is deposit our Fashion Points, and we’ll be set,” Yusuke said. The team nodded, and headed toward the vanity.

“Not so fast!” Sae’s twin voices rang out.

“What now?!” Morgana said.

“You’ve managed to gather a respectable amount of Fashion Points!” Sae said.

“However,” Shadow Sae interjected, “We cannot let you through.”

“WHAT?!” Ryuji said. “Why not?!”

“Because,” Sae said, “then you’d have a chance to win. And We can’t allow that!”

“Hence,” Shadow Sae said, “from here on, the toll to activate the bridge shall be 1,000,000 Fashion Points!”

“Hey!” Ann shouted. “That’s not fair!”

“You’ve been up and down this Fashion Show, have you not?” Shadow Sae said. “The whole point is that it’s unfair!”

“However,” Sae said, “once We capture you, We will bring about Our New World Order! The weak shall become the rulers, while the elite will be nothing but worms!”

“We have a similar goal!” Jose called out. “If you let us help you, we can-!”

“We’re sorry,” Shadow Sae said. “What makes you think We’d align ourselves with the people destroying the nation?!”

“A valiant effort Sunshine,” Yusuke said. “But alas, it’s futile.”

“Yes,” Sae said. “Resistance is futile!”

“Hm hm hm,” came a chuckle. The thieves looked behind them to see Eris. “Well this is quite a pickle.”

“Eris!” Makoto said.

“The one and only,” Eris replied. “It looks like you need help crossing the bridge.”

“Hey, what’s the big idea?!” Sae shouted. “I thought you were on Our side?!”

“Yeah, what gives?” Shadow Sae asked.

Eris chuckled. “Of course I’m on your side. But if you won’t fight fair, then I have to intervene. Unless you’re afraid that you’ll lose?”

There was a pause. Both Saes then called out. “We’re not afraid!”

“Very well,” Eris said. She started drawing her rapier.

“Hold it!” Haru said, pointing to Eris. “I’m afraid we don’t need your help.”

“I beg your pardon?” Eris said.

“We only need 1,000,000 Fashion Points, correct?” Haru said. “Well, it just so happens that we have them!”

“What do you mean?” Shadow Sae said.

“Hm,” Haru smirked, holding up a second card.

“Is that the Taro Tanaka card?!” Futaba yelped.

“That’s correct,” Haru said. “I know you told me to throw it out, but I decided to hang onto it. And then the kiosk manager on the floor told us about the program when they would lend us up to the total amount of Fashion Points we had, I decided to take advantage of that. After exiting the Heels Training room, I borrowed 10,000 to match the amount I had just received and then bet on Joker in the arena, netting me a total of 460,000.”

“Still not enough!” Sae barked.

“That may be true at that point, but while Joker was catching her breath, I returned the 10,000 I had borrowed, and then borrowed the total amount of the rest. Which puts me at a grand total of 910,000 Fashion Points. And combined with the Shinji Nakanomatsu card, we have over 1,000,000.” She transferred the amount to Ren’s card. “Joker, would you do the honors?!” Ren smiled, nodded, and deposited the Fashion Points, lowering the bridge.

“Alright!” Ann said.

“But, um, what about paying it back?” Ryuji said.

“Skull,” Jose answered. “We’re thieves.”

“Oh yeah,” Ryuji said.

“That was impressive Noir!” Lena said.

“Indeed,” Makoto said. “You have to get up pretty early to outsmart my sister.”

“Hm hm,” Haru chuckled. “Don’t underestimate the future of Okumura Foods!”

“Well damn,” Eris said. “I guess you don’t need me after all. Unless…?”

“Fuck off,” Joker said.

“Hm hm. As you command,” Eris said. She disappeared.

“So,” Sae interjected. “You’re going to stand against Us?”

“We don’t have to,” Ren answered.

“HA!” Shadow Sae replied. “Fat Chance!”

“I’m surprised you tried the same trick that Eris tried on you,” Sae said. “You should have known it would be just as fruitless.”

Ren smirked. “The dice are still in the air. I think our efforts will bear fruit. Maybe wait until the dice have stopped moving until rendering judgment.”

“Hm,” Sae pouted. “Well the only thing stopping you from here on is US! So don’t get too comfortable just yet!” The speaker shut off.

“That was something…” Sumire said. “But we’re here now.”

Ren nodded. “Now, let’s cross the bridge.” Everyone else nodded, and they crossed the bridge together.

On the other side, they passed through the door to see the treasure on a pedestal encased in glass. “So, this is the treasure, huh,” Morgana noted.

Sumire knocked on it. “It seems like ordinary glass to me.”

“And there’s nothing guarding it,” Yusuke noted. “How peculiar.”

“Well, she wasn’t expecting us to make it here,” Ann said.

“Still, we can never be too careful,” Noir said.

“Yeah,” Jose said. “It sounds like Sae isn’t going to go down without a fight.”

“There’s also the matter of the director,” Futaba said. “He’s probably going to make his move when we make ours.”

“Regardless,” Makoto said, “we have our route secured. All we need to do now is prepare ourselves. We can’t walk out of this empty-handed.”

“Hm,” Ren smirked. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. The thieves turned, and headed out, leaving the palace for the night.

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your-krazy-uncle-bob · 2 years

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When the original strain of COVID-19 arrived in spring 2020, a pandemic soon swept the country.

By far most survived COVID. But hundreds of thousands did not. American deaths now number well over 1 million.

Amid the tragedy, there initially was some hope that the pernicious effects of the disease would all disappear upon recovery among the nearly 99 percent who survived the initial infection.

Vaccinations by late 2020 were promised to end the pandemic for good. But they did not. New mutant strains, while more infectious, were said to be less lethal, thus supposedly resulting in spreading natural immunity while causing fewer deaths from infection.

But that too was not quite so.

Instead, sometimes the original symptoms, sometimes frightening new ones, not only lingered after the acute phase, but were of increased morbidity.

Now two-and-a-half years after the onset of the pandemic, there may be more than 20 million Americans who have had or are still suffering from what is currently known as “long COVID”—a less acute version but one ultimately as debilitating.

Some pessimistic analyses suggest well over 4 million once-active Americans are now disabled from this often-ignored pandemic and out of the workforce.

Perhaps 10-30 percent of those originally infected with COVID-19 have some lingering symptoms six months to a year after the initial infection. And they are quite physically sick, desperate to get well, and certainly not crazy.

So far, no government Marshall plan exists to cure long COVID.

While we know the nature of the virus well by now, no one fathoms what causes long COVID’s overwhelming fatigue, flu-like symptoms, neuralgic impairment, cardiac and pulmonary damage, and an array of eerie problems from extended loss of taste and smell to vertigo, neuropathy, and “brain fog.”

“Post-viral fatigue” has long been known to doctors. Many who get the flu or other viruses like mononucleosis sometimes take weeks or even months to recover after the initial acute symptoms retire.

But no one knows why long COVID often seems to last far longer and with more disability.

Is its persistence due to one theory that SARS-CoV-2 is a uniquely insidious, engineered virus? Or do vaccines and antivirals only help to curb infection, while possibly encouraging more unpredictable mutations?

Who gets long COVID, and why and how is, to paraphrase Winston Churchill, “a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma.”

Those who nearly die from acute COVID-19 can descend into long COVID. But then again so can those with minimal or few initial acute symptoms.

The obese with comorbidities are prone to long COVID, but triathletes and marathon runners are, too.

The elderly, the mature, the middle-aged, adolescents and children can all get long COVID. Those with downregulated and impaired immune systems fight long COVID. But then again so do those with upregulated and prior robust immunity, as well as people with severe allergies.

Since early 2020, no one has deciphered the cause, although numerous Nobel Prizes await anyone who unlocks its mysteries.

Does a weakened but not vanquished SARS-CoV-2 virus hide out and linger, causing an unending immune response that sickens patients?

Or does COVID-19 so weaken some long-haulers to the degree that old viruses, long in remission, suddenly flare up again, sickening the host with an unending case, of say, mononucleosis?

Or is the problem autoimmunity?

Is there something unique to the nature of COVID-19 that damages the vital on-and-off buttons of the immune system, causing the body to become stuck in overdrive, as it needlessly sends out its own poisons against itself?

Without knowledge of what explains long COVID, it is hard for researchers to find a cure.

After all, is the answer to slow down the immune system to dampen the immune storm, or to enhance it to root out lingering viruses?

Do more vaccines help or worsen long COVID?

Is the solution some magical new drug, or discovering off-label uses of old, reliable medicines? Can a good diet, moderate exercise and patience finally wear out long COVID? Or is its course too unpredictable or near permanent and chronic?

Is long COVID a single phenomenon, or a cluster of maladies, each manifesting according to one’s own genetic makeup, particular history of past illness, and unique reaction to the initial infection?

If we have few answers, we do have an idea about the costs.

Long COVID may be one of many reasons why in a recession, labor paradoxically still remains scarce. Millions likely stay home in utter disbelief that they are still battling long COVID. Others isolate in deadly fear of getting either the acute or chronic form of the illness.

The social costs to America of this hidden pandemic in lost wages and productivity, family and work disruption, and expensive medical care are unknown.

But they are likely enormous, still growing—and mostly ignored.

There should be some penalty imposed on whoever funded or performed the research that let this bug out of the bag. Why the hell is the government investigating J6 instead of the origins of COVID. The only obvious answer is that they already know.

YKUB

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my-never-ending-nightmare · 2 years

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By far the two most important apps on my phone rn

Quit It because it reminds me of how much time has passed since I chose to start taking care of myself as if I were somebody that I love. Time that I’ll never get back if I throw it away by having a smoke.

Duolingo because it gives me something productive to do with all of this new free time that I suddenly have now that I’m not taking smoke breaks at work.

I’ve always struggled to make sense of the Russian language & it’s alphabet, and that’s not for a lack of trying. I’ve periodically made halfhearted attempts since I was 14 but never really got anywhere with it. Something about it has always reminded me of the words Winston Churchill used to describe the Russian people in general: a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.

But I think I’m finally starting to crack it.

#thoughts

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heythereolga · 7 days

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THE MYSTERIOUS TREASURE MAP

Once upon a time, in the small town called Oakville where a big tree could be seen even far away (VISUA), there lived a group of adventurous friends named Alex, Emma, and Max known as treasure hunters (SNECHDOCHE). On the sunny day, the sun is shining brightly greeting the world happily (PERSONIFICATION). They stumbled alone together (OXYMNORON) upon an old, dusty book in the attic of their grandmother’s house. The book contained a mysterious treasure map!

Excitedly, the friends gathered around the map and started deciphering the clues. The first clue led them to the town’s historic library. The treasure hunters knock on the door “knock knock knock” (AUDITORY). As they entered, they felt the cold air inside the library (THERMAL), they were greeted by the librarian, Mrs. Jenkins, who had been waiting for them.

Welcome, young explorers! To find the next clue, you must solve a word hunt. Look for the following vocabulary words hidden in this book titles: AVENTURE, QUEST, TREASURE, DISCOVER, and MYSTERY. The friend eagerly scammed the shelves, “Look, these shelves has been living here for ages, don’t you agree?” (EUPHEMISM). Alex said while scanning the dusty and full of web shelves searching for hidden words. After a few minutes, they found all the books and arranged them in the correct them the next clue.

The next clue took them to the town’s park, where they had to complete a vocabulary challenged. They had to find objects in the park that matched the given vocabulary words: EXPLORE, ANCIENT, UNCOVER, and ENIGMA. Each time they found an object, they have to use it in a sentence to demonstrate is meaning. As the friends complete the challenge, they felt their vocabulary skills growing stronger. They thanked Mrs. Jenkins for her guidance and eagerly followed the next clue. Before they leave, Max said, “Thanks Mrs. Jenkins. It’s so hard that it didn’t even took us an hour to answer.” (IRONY).

The third clue led them deep into the forest, where thy had to solve a riddle using vocabulary words. The riddle went like this: “I am a hidden treasure, buried in the ground, unearth me carefully for I am quite profundity ancient markings and a gleam so bright. I hold the secrets of the past, shining in the light. What am I?” After brainstorming, the friends realized that the answer was an artifact. “Wow! This riddle is so easy. We didn’t even used a lot of brains to answer it.” (METONYMY) Emma said. They dug in the indicated spot, but then Emma dug something sharp and her palm started to bleed. “I’m fine, it’s just a scratch.” (UNDERSTATEMENT) Emma said. “Stop digging Emma.” Max said. Alex then wrapped a cloth on Emma’s wound. “We got this.” Alex said. And the two, Max and Alex started to dig again and found a small artifact that shimmered in the sunlight. Excitedly, they returned to their grandmother’s house, and they saw their grandmother waiting for them. “Oh no! what happened to you Emma? Come, let’s get it treated.” Grandma Lily said when she saw Emma’s wound. “You’re an angel grandma!” (METAPOR) Emma said. After the treatment, the three friends continued their quest and they discover a hidden compartment in the attic. Inside, they found a chest filled with gold coins, precious gems, and a note saying… “Congratulations brave adventurers! You have successfully completed the word hunt and found the treasure. Use your new found vocabulary skills to continue exploring the world! The friends celebrated their victory where they prepared a tower of caramel cake. (HYPERBOLE) The scent gives a smell like a sweet caramel on top of a fluffy cloud, (SIMILE, OLFACTORY, TACTILE) and when they tasted the sweetness of the caramel cake, it melts inside their mouth (GUSTATORY) knowing that their vocabulary journey had just began. They thanked each other for their teamwork and promised to embark on more exciting adventures together.

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lindajenni · 7 months

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sep 25

this can't go on forever

"therefore I will number you for the sword, and you shall all bow down to the slaughter; because, when I called, you did not answer; when I spoke, you did not hear, but did evil before My eyes, and chose that in which I do not delight." isa 65:12

these are those who do not delight in His ways; those ones who love the darkness more than the light. a Godly heart cannot understand such a thing, but truth remains truth regardless of one's invented truth. scripture tells us that even the evil doers love their own. but it is a selective love; a worldly love; not the love of God.

reading scripture now is almost like reading the daily newspaper. lawlessness and self-centeredness are overwhelming. just read for yourselves. does this not describe our times to a tee?

"but know this, that in the last days perilous times will come: for men will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy, unloving, unforgiving, slanderers, without self-control, brutal, despisers of good, traitors, headstrong, haughty, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, having a form of godliness but denying its power… led away by various lusts, always learning and never able to come to the knowledge of the truth." 2 tim 3:1-7

the other day i watched a young person on a plane disputing with an elder that they were a boy and not a girl. the amount of arrogance and lack of respect was overwhelming. their minds have become so darkened i fear their confusion nears being given over. it's like a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. an enlightened mind cannot comprehend it and certainly not approve of the disrespect they show in wildly defending their confusion. "they sow the wind, and reap the whirlwind. the stalk has no bud; it shall never produce meal. if it should produce, aliens would swallow it up." hos 8:7

and don't you find it interesting how the Spirit uses "aliens" in that verse? will aliens contribute to unbeliever's ultimate deception at the rapture? it is no longer a topic shrouded in secrecy and ridiculed. it is openly discussed, none realizing these are really the evil ones, perhaps appearing as an angel of light. much as the anti-christ will appear, bringing solutions (peace and safety) when he is revealed. their admiration will blossom into worship. oh yes, he is just silently awaiting for his time to come - until believer's hosting the Holy Spirit are no longer here to restrain.

i am hearing they expect all humans to be merged with neural implants by 2030; a boom for mankind and a benefit allowing kids to learn faster and better. there are already volunteers for the "musk chip." those of us older may remember the tv show, "the six million dollar man." their opening tag line was, "we can rebuild him. we have the technology. we can make him better than he was. better, stronger, faster." obviously insinuating better than God created man. and isn't it great that the price has finally come down on something. i wonder how often our entertainment has predicted our future. is the "terminator" a precursor to artificial intelligence next?

as i noted before, now they are talking about creating synthetic life. can anybody say, "the days of noah?" "they ate, they drank, they married wives, they were given in marriage, until the day that noah entered the ark, and the flood came and destroyed them all. likewise as it was also in the days of lot: they ate, they drank, they bought, they sold, they planted, they built." luke 17:27-28 this is just further confirmation to me that there will be a pre-trib rapture. these things will not be normal at the end of jacob's trouble. turmoil and death will prevent life and leisure from continuing as normal.

only the blinded fail to see or admit we are at that point now; in the days when the world had become so adulterated and degenerate that all, save eight, had to be destroyed. "do not be deceived, God is not mocked; for whatever a man sows, that he will also reap." gal 6:7

so i say again, "this can't go on forever." many people think i am just rapture crazy but i honestly can understand why others can't see what i see coming, and coming fast. i know many are not even looking, just blindly going forth as sheep to the slaughter. even many christians believe His coming is yet far off. how can they look at everything combined and say that it will be maybe 30 years or 20 or 10 or even 5 years away?

yes, this next rapture watch may come and go as all the others before have. if that happens we will dutifully look for that next "expected" time. regardless of what others may say, all things "do not" continue as they were from the beginning of creation. as we rapidly run to and fro, our knowledge has increased with the years. as knowledge is increasing exponentially, so is sin. the light is fading rapidly from hearts desiring to wallow in debauchery. sin is being harvested faster than it can be sown.

abraham talked God down to 5 righteous people trying to save sodom, but i don't believe there will be any talking God down this time. not with all the souls slain for their testimony of Christ crying out: "how long, o Lord, holy and true, until You judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?" rev 6:10 not with all those on earth who are bearing witness to His love and free gift, now joining in the sing-along.

scripture tells us His mercy endures forever, but He is also "just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus." rom 3:26. justice and righteousness will prevail.

#prayer #faith #rapture #jesus

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cyberbenb · 10 months

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In the face of mutiny, humiliated Putin didn’t know what to do. We should worry about what he’ll do next | Samantha de Bendern

The Russian leader, having faltered, is likely to renew his assault on Ukraine and impose repression at home with even greater intensity

When something incomprehensible happens, it can be reassuring to fall back on old cliches. Churchill’s famous description of Russia as “a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma,” summarises what many Russia analysts feel after the aborted armed rebellion led by Wagner commander Yevgeny Prigozhin this weekend. While answers remain elusive, some elements seem important to help navigate through the fog.

There are powerful arguments that Vladimir Putin has been weakened by Prigozhin’s armed rebellion. For the first time in 23 years, many Russians will have woken up on Saturday morning wondering whether their president was still in control. Then, hours after a visibly shaken Putin announced that traitors would be punished, charges against Prigozhin were dropped, and his armed men, who allegedly shot down a transport plane and at least two helicopters (the exact number is still unconfirmed), killing a number of highly skilled military pilots, were given security guarantees.

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chronivore · 1 year

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A Riddle Wrapped in a Mystery inside an Enigma or Something

#ai art

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pedros-mustache · 2 years

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bogatá nights

masterlist || ask box

word count: ~5k

warnings: smut (18+) only. also: twinge of angst, smoking, language, x fem!reader

a/n: wowie, something over than din! this was written at some point over the summer and then promptly forgotten. i am severely overwhelmed with my job atm, so i wanted to post this while i ✨survive✨the daily fight. i am still committed to nighthawks like no other, and also considering a javi mini-series, so rest assured i’m not going anywhere; things are just... slow... right now.

please let me know what you think of this! been awhile since i posted anything other than din so i’m a bit nervous. (and before anyone asks: this is just a one-shot 😅) anyway: thanks for sticking with me! xoxo.

A cool evening breeze filters through your open window, rustling the gauzy curtains flung to either side. It’s dark out, the sky obsidian, starless. Below, the streets of Bogotá are restless. Music from the bar on the corner pulses through the neighborhood; laughter and hurried footsteps a countermelody to the thump of bass and brass. You glance at the clock on your bedside table. Ten o’clock—right on schedule.

There is an energy to this place so unlike your quiet, suburban home in the States. Here, in Bogotá, where tomorrow is more of a hope than a promise, the nights tremble with vitality. The transition from daylight to nightfall is whiplash, a sharp right turn from hard-scrabble living to carefree revelry. God, you love it. Even if you don’t often find the chance to participate in the fun, you crave the sounds of life that meet you every night. True, unrestrained existence fighting for a moment of levity in a place that can be so severe.

Plus, if you’re being honest with yourself, nights lift your work-weary spirit because nights bring you Javier—and tonight, a Thursday, your hair still wet from a shower, door locked to the rest of the boarding house, is no different.

You hear him coming before he darkens your window.

His footsteps clang against the rickety fire escape attached to the side of the building. You’ve told him—time and time again you’ve told him—to tread lightly on the stairs leading to your window. If Sister Cordelia finds out one of her borders has been sneaking a man into her room nigh on every night for the last month… You shudder to think how hard your ass will hit the pavement when given the boot.

Sliding from your bed, you tuck your book—a children’s paperback, entirely in Spanish; you’re trying to do better—to the side. You can’t help but grin, lower lip tucked between your teeth, as you near the window. Javi mutters beneath his breath as he crests the last platform; you know, not because you understand his grumblings, but because it’s the same routine every night.

You lean against the window frame and smile when he drops the grate closed, sealing himself off from the rest of Columbia, maybe the rest of the world. The cigarette hanging between his plush lips glows red at the tip.

“Hi.” It’s a whispered greeting, nerves dancing around the edge of your mouth.

Even after all this time, you don’t know where you stand in Javi’s mind, much less his heart; you can’t even hazard a guess. He’s a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. You saw him not five hours ago as you left the embassy, your eight hour shift at the front desk completed yet another day. He was hunched over a pile of paperwork, phone jammed between his ear and his shoulder. He didn’t look at you when you left.

Still, he’s here. That has to count for something.

He stubs his cigarette out on the brick wall. “You gonna let me in or not, cariño?”

You tilt your head to the side. “Only if you ask nicely. I don’t let just any man crawl through my window, you know.”

The corner of his mouth pulls to one side, and he snorts in amusement, a huff of laughter tight in his chest. Half of his face shines in the warm light of your bedroom. A heavy tenebrism highlights the straight line of his jaw, the stress line between his brows, the curve of his nose. You resist the urge to reach for his face and brush your thumb over the apple of his cheeks.

He braces one forearm on the top corner of the window frame and leans close. His dark eyes arrest yours, holding you still, breathless, putty in his capable hands. “Would you pretty fucking please let me in?” His smirk widens, gaze dropping to your parted lips. “Been thinkin’ about you all day.”

Heart in your throat, you step aside, fingers curled tight in the fabric of your sheer curtains. Javi bends at the waist and ducks his head as he drops through the open window. His shoes hit the hardwood with a heavy thump, and you catch his elbow on a wince.

“Fuck! Javi! Do you want the whole fucking building to know you’re in here?” You press yourself to his side, glancing toward your bedroom door, straining your eyes in the dim light of the room to search for the tell-tale twist of the doorknob.

He can’t be here; you both know this. For a plethora of reasons, Javier Peña cannot and should not be in your bedroom. Yet he is.

That has to count for something.

“Why don’t you move?” he asks. “Find some apartment that doesn’t give a shit about who comes to visit.”

Rolling your eyes, you give him the same answer you give everyone who asks why you’d ever live in a building that allows women and women only beyond the threshold. “It’s cheap, and the embassy pays me peanuts. Besides, some of the other secretaries live here. We walk home together. Bogotá isn’t the safest place in the world. You of all people know that.”

Javi ignores the pinched expression on your face, ignores the risk of your togetherness, and captures your mouth with his. He tastes like cigarettes and stale coffee, like the long, tireless hours that weigh his shoulders down, like the endless depths of mystery surrounding his person. You are drunk on him, have been since he first lingered by your desk and asked about your mother.

You know so little about him and yet so much. You know how he likes his coffee, how he’s constantly forgetting his signature when he turns in documents for you to file, how he takes a smoke break at eleven on the dot. You do not know much about his parents or his childhood or what brought him from Texas to Columbia. But maybe those things don’t matter. Maybe all that matters is the weight of his hand pushing your body closer to his and the way his tongue glides along yours. Maybe all that matters is he is here, now, with you. The other things—the surface nothings you clung to in past relationships—maybe those things don’t matter with Javi.

You hum against his lips, smoothing your hands across his shoulders and down the lengths of his arms. The leather jacket beneath your fingers is stiff, but the man himself bends, pliable under your touch.

You pull away and begin shucking the jacket from his body. “Your shoulders feel tense, Javi,” you say. “Lie back.”

He goes with some measure of grumbling, but soon flops to your bed, long limbs sprawled out across the white comforter as he reaches for the carton of cigarettes he left on your bedside table a week ago. Jacket still in hand, you drop it to the floor as you move to straddle his hips. You settle your weight on him and merely quirk an eyebrow when he realizes there’s nothing beneath your silken nightgown but your bare skin. He shakes his head on a chuckle and puts the unlit cigarette aside. His hands, broad, well-worn, fall to your waist, and his eyes roam your body as silence stretches taut like a rubber band.

“What makes you so uneasy?” you ask, knowing full well what his answer will be, what it always is.

“Nothing you can change.” He sighs, lifts a hand to massage the bridge of his nose. “Nothing I can change either, it seems.”

A beat passes, your eyes locked with his, before you lean over and grab the Spanish paperback shoved beneath your pillow. Javi’s hand trails up your back when you linger, breasts to his chest, fingers flipping through the yellowed pages. His breath fans the damp hair clinging to your temple. Upon sitting back, you wiggle your hips to get comfortable and ignore both the drag of your cunt over Javi’s jeans and the strained puff of air that leaves his mouth. You clear your throat—

—and begin reading.

You keep your tone even, your pacing smooth, as you work your way through the page. It’s hard work—reading aloud and comprehending the words at the same time—but you do your best. Or what you hope is at least passable.

“La Telaraña de Carlota—Charlotte’s Web.” You flick your eyes over the top of your book and bite back a grin when you meet Javi’s tranquil gaze. The stress lines etched so deep across his forehead have eased, replaced by a half-smile that makes your tummy flip. “You’re doing good, cariño. Keep going.”

You resume, and sink into the warmth of the moment. Your voice, clear and determined, mingles with the sounds of the street below. Though the sound of a car backfiring gives you pause, and the start of a light rain has you wondering if you should close the window, there is only you and Javier in this moment. He is strong beneath you, quiet as he listens to you read a children’s novel. His eyelashes fan his cheeks, his chest rising and falling in a slow, comfortable rhythm.

Good, you think. He deserves rest. As hard as he works, he deserves an evening where the world forgets he exists. Where he is allowed to simply be—no agenda, no demands.

As the pages go by and the plot progresses, Javi grows restless, distracted, though he corrects your mispronunciations when he catches them. His thumb dips beneath the hem of your teddy, and you fumble over a phrase. Firm fingertips skim across the valley between your hips, nearing the growing ache in your core, until, right at the last moment, he flattens his palm against your stomach, fingers spread wide.

You continue reading.

“Estiércol,” he corrects, gaze intent on your body as he pushes your nightgown up with his wrist, revealing your naked flesh to the room. There’s a furrow between his brow, likely matching yours; though yours is born out of pleasure, not concentration. “Shit.”

“Huh?” Your eyes flutter shut as his palm nudges the underside of your breast. When the pad of his thumb presses against your nipple, you bite the inside of your cheek. His hand is warm, but his fingertips cold; you shiver, your hips moving involuntarily in response.

“Estiércol means shit. Manure, technically. The sentence means, ‘The stable smelled like hay and manure.’”

He rolls your nipple between his fingers until it pebbles. The heat in your core intensifies, his touch like bellows to the fire stirring low in your belly. Your head lolls to the side, and your hands drop, the book folding shut on your fingers.

“Oh.”

With his opposite hand, he nudges the book. “Keep going.”

Blinking, you frown. You’ve lost interest in the story of Charlotte and Wilbur and all the farm animals. You’d rather rip the buttons from his sky blue shirt and mark his skin with the wet heat of your mouth.

He is golden in the lamplight, lit like a Caravaggio painting. You’re lucky. Half of Columbia vies for Javi’s attention—his affection, his sense of justice; yet he is here with you, his length hardening beneath your core, his pupils blown wide as he kneads your breast.

You drop the book, a sharp crack rending the air when the spine hits the floor. Javi’s brows lift, and he glances from the discarded book to you. He swallows, palms pushed flat against the bed as he lifts his neck, a muscle in his forehead ticking as he watches you lift your nightgown and toss it aside. You’re left naked before him, and for the first time in a long time, you feel no desire to cover yourself beneath a shield of darkness.

“We can read another time,” you say, slipping your pointer finger between the closed buttons of his shirt. “There’s something else I’d like to study for now.”

Javi grins as he rids himself of his shirt. Your hands roam his chest, the dip of his collarbone, the corded muscles that work in his shoulders as he unbuttons his jeans. You move off of his lap long enough to allow him space to pull off his trousers. The faded pants fall to the growing pile on the floor with a muted thump.

You quirk an eyebrow and lay your hand in the center of his chest, pushing him back amongst the pillows as you reposition yourself over his hips. His cock rests heavy against his stomach.

“Commando?” you tease. “How often do you do that?”

Javi avoids your eyes as he rubs your arms. He lifts one hand to massage the breast he neglected moments before. “Only when I know I’m set to be naked within the hour.” There’s something beneath his words, something you can’t quite place, but you don’t have the chance to ask before he wraps his fingers around the back of your neck and whispers, “Come ‘ere.”

When he calls, you listen—every time.

Javi’s lips are tender against yours. You angle your head, and he takes the opportunity to move his mouth over yours, his mustache a tickle against your upper lip. When his tongue touches yours, you sigh, and any weight left in your body dissipates. You collapse against him, his warm skin, his smooth tongue. The throbbing in your cunt hurts, and you squirm against the base of his cock, your growing slickness smacking in the quietness of the room.

He chuckles. Fucking bastard—he chuckles. Your heart twists with something akin to delight.

Sliding his hands away from your face, he finds your hips, holding you still. The blunt edges of his nails dig into the flesh of your waist.

“I want you, Javi.” The words fall against his lips, into his mouth, a hurried, hushed whisper of desire. “Please.”

He kisses you again—a wet pop of his lips on yours. “You do?”

You nod, dragging your slick center over whatever inch of his skin you can find despite the hands anchoring you tight to his waist. You can’t see him—your eyes are squeezed shut, eyebrows pulled tight in a frown of painful pleasure—but you’re sure he’s laughing at you, smirking at your neediness. “Mhmm.” A whine, high-pitched and pathetic.

It’s so easy for him to get you like this—a pile of goop in his hands, whiny and submissive and moldable like play-doh. He can do whatever he wants to you; he knows it, too. He’s just so damn good you can’t find the space in your lust-cluttered mind to care.

Two thick fingers slither between the inch of space between your bodies. Your eyes snap open when he crooks his fingers against your entrance.

“Oh!”

Javi gives a smug huff through his nose. “That what you want, cariño?” As if to emphasize his point, he slips his fingers deep within your core and presses the flat of his thumb against your clit. He drags his fingers forwards and backwards in your cunt, and you gasp as pleasure radiates through your lower half.

“Yes.” You curl your hand against his chest, nails scraping his flesh. “Yes.”

He releases your hip to smooth his palm over your temple, fingers dragging through your hair. “So pretty,” he whispers. His hips jolt upwards as your own body takes on a mind of its own, your hips grinding circles around the fingers trapped in your warmth.

You have enough presence of mind to curl your fingers around his length and give a few experimental pumps of his thick, throbbing flesh. Though his fingers work magic—rubbing and circling and scissoring—your time with him tonight will be fleeting. It always is. You don’t have the luxury or the patience for tarrying.

Beads of precum ooze around your thumb when you pull on the head of Javi’s cock. He stifles a groan by biting on his lower lip, and your breath catches in your throat simultaneously. A shared moment of forbidden ecstasy.

His slow, unhurried ministrations on your clit threaten to tip you over the edge if he continues much longer. When you do come, you’d rather he be inside you, stretching you, filling you up with his own release. Fuck, you’re intoxicated by him.

“Inside me,” you murmur. “I want you inside me.”

At this, the lazy, contented sheen over Javi’s eyes fades. He drags his gaze from the swollen bundle of nerves at your center and meets your wide, pleading stare. His jaw tightens, and he pushes his back higher against the headboard. The sound of his hand cracking against your ass hits the moment the sky outside illuminates with a similar crack of lightning. You would laugh at the coincidence, say something witty that might impress him, but you stay quiet.

“Turn around,” he says, the arrogance of moment’s earlier vanished from his voice.

You are quick to listen.

Spinning on your knees, you fist both of your hands—your trembling, quivering hands—in the sheets near the foot of your bed. Javi grabs your shins and pulls to either side, stretching you over his legs until you feel a cool breeze drift over your soaked heat. His breath, you realize; you shudder, dropping your head between your shoulders. Your knees dig into the soft mattress, your spine curled and body quaking.

Javi pushes the head of cock between your folds—just the tip—and resumes his hold on your hips. He clears his throat, and the sound is so out of step with the rigid moment that you nearly look over your shoulder to check on him. He speaks before you get the chance.

“Go ahead. Fuck yourself on my cock, querida.”

A garbled whimper parts your lips when you move your hips backwards, swallowing his length inch by blessed inch. Holy hell—oh shit—oh fuck… You don’t realize you’re speaking, cursing low beneath your breath as you rock back and forth on his cock, until Javi snickers.

“What’s that?” he asks, massaging his palm along your ass cheek, spreading you wide so he can watch the way his body is encased in yours.

“Don’t be—” Your voice hitches on a whine. Fuck, he stretches you so well. “Don’t be so goddamn smug.”

“You look good.” His fingertips dip over the small of your back, and he pushes his palm there, lifting his own hips to meet yours on their descent. “Shit, that feels good. God, you’re so tight.”

Though you’ve practiced how to hold your tongue in moments such as these, you can’t help but moan, long and low, into the bed comforter as Javi meets you thrust for thrust. His balls slap against your skin, and you grit your teeth, some clear part of your mind hoping, wishing, praying that no one can hear through the thin walls. Just because your room is situated at the end of the hall, away from the staircase and the communal bathroom, doesn’t mean you are in the clear.

The tension in your cunt bursts without warning, and you come with a ragged cry. Tears blur your vision as Javi fucks you through it, his thrusts faster, harder, as he searches for his own release. His fingertips concave your skin, and you feel him everywhere. He’s like a blanket: you can feel him around your shoulders, where he holds tight to the junction between your neck and your back; you can feel him around your legs, where he grips your shin; you can feel him so tight and deep in your core, twitching and pulsing when he comes. He is everywhere, covering you, swallowing you in the fringes of his warmth.

When all is said and done, you both lay in sated bliss, your cheek pressed against the cool sheets, his hand lingering in the small of your back. Your pussy flutters around his softening length when he shifts, and you laugh to yourself, meeting his eyes across your tangled bodies. He smiles.

After a moment, he gently pushes against your back. You shuffle forward and release a shaky breath when his cock slips free of your heat. Javi reaches for a cigarette, the muscles in his stomach contracting as he moves. Cigarette lit, a thin line of smoke wafts across the bedroom, toward the open, rainy window. You crawl to the head of the bed and lay on your side, hands tucked beneath your cheeks, watching, waiting for him to break the silence.

He offers you the cigarette, his tired gaze trained on your bureau. “I know what you want,” he finally says.

“What’s that?” Your words fumble around the cigarette, the chemicals lacing your tongue, teasing your senses. “There’s a lot of things I’d like.”

Javi turns his head and gives you an unimpressed stare. When you grin, laughing at his easily-miffed sensibilities, he removes the cigarette from between your fingers and takes another drag.

“You want me to walk into the embassy tomorrow and tell everyone.” He pauses. “About us.”

Oh.

You hadn’t been expecting that.

These are dangerous waters you tread. If you know anything about Javier, you know he’s a flight risk. Communication, openness, commitment—none fall under Javi’s repertoire. His reputation precedes him, and though you aren’t one to believe all the gossip, the last month has proved most water cooler titterings as true.

He’s great in bed. He’s moody, evasive, a chainsmoker with a hunger for setting wrong things to right. He cannot—and will not—be tied down.

You knew tangling yourself in the life and arms of Javier Peña would be a stretch out of your comfort zone. You like order and stability, and Javi is unpredictable at best. You appreciate a man who wants to show you off, and, aside from your bedroom, you’ve never seen Javi outside the embassy walls.

Still, despite it all, you like Javi—a lot. That has to count for something.

You prop yourself up on an elbow to better look at his face. “No, not necessarily.”

He meets your eyes, one brow arched. “We’ve been fuckin’ like rabbits for a month, and I haven’t even taken you to get a salad at some shitty restaurant.”

You scoff on a laugh, smiling in spite of the vulgar, yet factual, assessment of your relationship. “That’s very eloquent and heartfelt.”

Shaking his head, he sits straight, running a hand over his face. “Don’t patronize me.” The cloud he often takes with him—the one that is bloated gray with his passions and his desires, warped by the violence he encounters day after day—has returned; it’s never gone for long.

With a sigh, you push yourself away from the mattress and draw closer to him. The bedsheets pool around your waist, leaving your breasts exposed, but you feel no need to cover up around him. You wrap an arm around his lower back, rub the skin of his hip, kiss his shoulder. He’s so warm, always so damn warm.

“I like this, Javi,” you say, your voice quiet, careful.

Javi drops the hand shielding his eyes and moves his chin. Though he doesn’t look at you, he’s listening. The opening scene of Jaws flashes before your mind’s eye: Get out of the water. Only you’re stuck, trapped by the undercurrent, wrapped up in Javi and everything you know he is and can be. So, you push forward, heart rate slowly picking up speed.

“I’ve had a lot of fun the last month or so,” you continue. “You’re a good man and a really great fuck. Sure, there are times I wish we could go out and get salads at a shitty restaurant, but I… I understand your hesitation, I think.”

Javi leans over to grind his cigarette to dust in an ashtray before reaching for your arm. His thumb brushes along your skin in comfortable circles. “I don’t have time for all the red tape Messina will put me—us—through if I say anything. If I let myself get distracted…” He meets your eyes, and you press your hand to his cheek. His voice drops to a whisper, reverent in its intensity. “I’m so close to Escobar, cariño. So fucking close.”

You straighten your spine, grabbing one of his hands with what you hope is an encouraging squeeze. “Okay. Then we don’t go out for salads and we keep quiet as we have been.”

You could leave it there, let him off the hook and watch him swim to some form of freedom, but your gut tells you to keep going. Keep going, keep going, keep going. You like him too much to let this fade to black.

When you speak, your voice rings true, as though you read your own words from a children’s paperback. “I’ll wait for you, Javi. I’m not going anywhere so I’ll wait.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you didn’t expect him to. The way he kisses you, though, sealing his mouth over yours, his fingertips holding the base of your jaw as he bends you backwards into the sheets—that says enough.

You giggle—a girlish, winsome sound—and wind your arms around his neck, holding him close as his mouth devours yours. It doesn’t take long for your body to respond to his, naked as you are. As his tongue licks into your mouth, you curl your legs around his back, locking him in place with your heels. He smiles against your lips, pulls against their fullness with his teeth, and you simper.

“I’ve got to go,” he mumbles, his warm, wet mouth dragging across your cheek to the spot behind your ear.

You pout when he starts to pull away. “Do you?”

“As long as you insist on renting a room in a building where I am not welcome simply because of my dick, then yeah, I gotta go.”

Leaning your weight on your elbows, you watch as he gathers his clothes from the floor, shoving his long legs into his pants, his arms into the unbuttoned sleeves of his shirt. The fabric hangs open over his sun kissed chest while he slides assorted items into his pocket from the side table. He tucks his gun and his badge into his waistband then pats his pockets, glancing over either shoulder.

You point to the floor. “The pack fell.”

“Oh, thanks.” He stoops to pick up the cigarette pack then shrugs on his jacket, making quick work of the buttons he forgot.

“You know,” you start, sitting forward. “I could always come to yours.”

Javi freezes, buttons askew and eyes wide.

Shit—shitshitshitshit. You cringe, internally and externally, wishing for all the world that you could have just left well enough alone. You’ve danced over hot coals enough for one night and you just had to push your luck one last time, didn’t you?

You pull the nearest bed sheet over your naked body and look away.

“Cariño…” The endearment is a sigh, one that makes your stomach clench with regret. “Hey, look at me.”

You do, your eyes dragging from the frayed edge of your pillowcase to his firm face.

“I can’t cook for shit, my apartment is bare bones, and I’m almost never there because I’m either here, at the embassy, or asleep at a stakeout.” His eyelashes quicken as he blinks, and the tension in his shoulders suddenly drops. “But yeah, I’ll have you over some time—some time soon. It’s long overdue.”

He leans down to kiss you once more. Chaste when everything you’ve done in the last hour has been anything but. “Te lo prometo.” He gives a playful swat to the hip left uncovered by the bed sheet, and you grin. “Translate that.”

Javi leaves much the way he came: a broad-framed, grumbling man squeezing through an open window. He flips up the collar of his jacket, and his eyes narrow as he tilts his head back toward the sky, rain dousing his face. He hesitates, and you wonder if he’s considering crawling back through the window, into your room, into your bed. After a moment, he closes the window with a firm push to the lip of the frame. It clatters shut, window panes rattling, and then he’s gone, ambling down the fire escape to the world below.

You sit on the edge of your bed. Rain splatters against the window, but the bar across the street continues to pump the air with frenetic music.

Javi’s come has long since dried between your legs—the only thing he leaves you to remember him by, a sticky, salty parting gift. The evidence of your togetherness will wash away in the shower tomorrow morning. It always does; it’s just as fleeting as him.

For now, though, as you drop back against your mattress, you fall asleep knowing—knowing in some way Javier Peña is yours.

And for now, that is enough.

#javier peña x reader #javier peña smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut

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amantmanquant · 6 years

Text

I have my own shit to deal with, ya know?

I’m really good at keeping “it” together. I like that about myself but it leads others to think that there’s never anything wrong or to check in about.

I’m not quite sure what’s upsetting me right now but I can assure you that, I’m keeping “it” together.

#a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma #i’m also not something to figure out i just hate being vulnerable #i really like that quote #winston churchill

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namjoonchronicles · 3 years

Text

closure |nj

↳ pairing namjoon, reader

↳ genre fluff, domestic, established relationship, melodrama

↳ words 3,775k

↳ summary some stories aren't meant to be understood, they're just written to be heard.

↳ warning depression; major death of side character, suicide

↳ song 'feel something' by clairo, 'to love someone else' by avery lynch, 'chernobyl' by alec bailey

Truly, the nights are filled with unspoken stories. When he took your hand in his and looked deep into your eye with those soft concerned gaze, you were home. He cupped your chin, curled a strand of your hair behind your ear and studied your entire face.

“What’s that look?” his voice swam in your semi-consciousness, “I know that look. That look pains me, takes me to the edge, makes me curl my toes, that look…”

Your eyes flutter wondrously at his lashes, his Cupid’s bow and supple lips, along with a stricken smile you asked him quizzically, “I am alright, you have nothing to worry about…”

Namjoon thumbed your cheek and it traced down to your smile line, the curve at the edge of your lips, and you know he felt the trembles as you forced the smile. Namjoon’s eyes trail up to meet yours again, he starts chewing the insides of his cheek, hollowing them.

“You are faking the smile,” and he softens when he sees your eyes gleaming with tears. Upon this, he collected your head into his arms and cushioned by his chest. He passes a long lingering kiss atop of your head, cradling your head while your arms are low on his hip, trying to barely hold on. At the time, he felt like a pillar, holding you together in all your ruins. His stature, the scent of his aftershave, the makings of his shirts and the smell of his skin— it all rushed over your senses like a tsunami. The kind of comfort he was, such a calming presence for a cyclone-bearing human you were.

Rush of emotions. It builds up.

And up.

And overflows.

You are an enigma Namjoon is scrambling to find out. A tough shell of a crab, with walls built high and thick. Like a lost traveler with a single map that’s ever changing in its path, ever evolving— you were that map. The verandah's wooden panel wet from the late afternoon rain, the hammock under the small roof at the edge, lay static in its place until Namjoon put his enormous weight on it. One leg dangling out, arm spread and waiting for you to grab them. He bracketed your waist and lifted you from the floor and into his lap like a child. He has a bottle of soda by the side, its lid snapped open. Laying your back on his hard, defined pectoral chest, feeling the weight of the world on your shoulder somewhat lifted a bit. Namjoon knows, and he knows this without you saying a word— he knows that you had been fighting many battles alone, and with yourself. The battles had wrung you out, strewn you in and silenced you. Constantly, insistently the world is demanding a piece of you to give out. At this place and time, it seemed incredibly impossible to be at complete peace. You could almost give in— tempted to lay in defeat. You gave it your all, and they gave you nothing.

“It’ll hurt for awhile, but it will get better,” you suddenly broke the silence. Namjoon hummed back, either confused or surprised at the sudden remark. You turned sideways and up, to look at the view of his jaw. He tips his head back, drinking down the soda in his left hand. The thin fabrics of his sleeveless tanks, left almost nothing to the imagination. He tutted his tongue in response to what you said.

“That’s a nice saying…” his voice dropped an octave lower when he is relaxing like this with you. You were the few humans in the world he would appreciate silence with. You switched to face him, him between your legs as you sat up with a big gaping smile on your face, disbelieved.

“You’re the one who told me that…” emphasizing on him. You filled the gaps between his legs with your own, sandwiched as you sat opposed to him. Your toes next to his head and him grinning like he kept a secret from the world. After much struggle to get comfortable, you said,

“You told me that when my grandmother passed away that night in January… I remember it clearly, just like it was yesterday…

I was in the elevator with her lifeless body on the casket and not a drop of tears left my eye…

I started wondering if there was something wrong with me…”

Namjoon wrapped his palm over your ankles— the ankles you hated so much because you think they are unappealing, he thumbs the protruding bone affectionately, brought it to his stomach and started massaging it with his free hand. All the while you were reminiscing.

“And you told me that I was so hurt, I couldn’t cry. How I am used to fabricating my pain for the sake of others… that when I was expected to cry, I couldn’t. And wouldn’t. How I took being strong quite literally…” Your voice slowed down, your eyes casted to the view of his fingers, nimbling over your skin.

“And today, the same thing happened… but today, I chose not to be too strong,” you held your breath for a moment, and exhaled shakily. The emotions aren’t all gone; the remnants are still here, clinging on you like a stubborn stain on the wall left by the old frames that were no longer there. Coiling around you like a shadow at every hint of bright light. The guilt was paralyzing you to the point of tears.

“A friend of mine was taken today…” you painted a smile on your face but Namjoon didn’t etch one, one bit. His fingers stopped massaging briefly, before it continued.

“You’ve met him once, if you remembered, his name is Hoseok,” you wiped a single drop of tear, “He was a firm owner, a lawyer. We met at the convention…”

“... back in 2015.” Namjoon finished your sentences.

At the 2015 International Pharmaceutical Convention, 7 years ago...

Flourishing, the crowd of intelligent people came in with a big proud smile, wearing lanyards of their company. Blazers, heels, jewelries, research posters, new pharmaceutical breakthroughs, projects and investors circles. The big pharma are divided in sections.

Walking toward the condiments vendor for a quick refreshment, you were approached by a man. Tall, his face turned away from your view as he was speaking to another colleague. He hijacked your turn to access the vendors, unknowingly, and you weren’t exactly the kind to speak up when a stranger does this to you, so you backed away a little and forced out a smile, gazing down at your toes.

“Hey, I think I know your name…” this mysterious figure suddenly says, “Still letting others go first before you, huh?” In such a friendly tone, your mind began racing to decipher his voice and face when you shot your gaze up to meet his. The same disarming smile, perfectly lined teeth and just the right amount of cologne, wafted around your nose— was a face familiar from the years back.

“Hoseok? Jung Hoseok?” he mentions his name after a long pause from you.

You were tongue-tied, mind-riddled from such a sudden meeting. You were unprepared and it must have shown all over your face the way he hisses away, wearing a lopsided smile and gruffly saying, “Don’t be like that… Do you really not know me? Have I mistook you for someone else?” He suddenly shifted his weight to another foot, crossed his arm and placed his forefinger under his chin, gazing at the corner of the massive hall, thinking.

“Ankles, and that old wristwatch, it’s definitely you…” his pondering face switches to a cheerful smile in a matter of seconds and you could not have been even more right that this was your old friend whom you hadn’t contacted in years. All the way back in college.

“Oh my, it’s you…!” You gasped, trying to recover from the embarrassing delay, “Wow, you look amazing… How are you! How have you been?”

Hoseok exchanged your late recalling with a burst of laughter of his own.

“I own a firm now,” you heard him say. It was the first thing he said, and it showed just how much pride he took in it. Which was fair. Back then he was struggling to find his footing, trying to find a job and getting rejected at interviews— it was you whom he shared those stories with. Over late night coffee, late night conversations and texts; he talks about his days, sharing with you his strange humors. You were glad that he finally found what he liked to do; at least that's what you assumed he liked because you clearly remembered that he had different interests.

“So what about the photography business? Your freelance job?” you hesitantly asked.

You could see how his smile and whole stature faltered briefly at the mention of it. You knew that his family was against it— was against anything that isn’t bringing back money— passion or not, it wasn’t something his family wanted him to do. Besides, his father’s firm needs managing, and what other way to continue the business if not having a son that is doing law as well.

“Folded,” his cheeks puffed and deflated, “Sold everything including the antique camera, the analogues, the films… everything.”

Your heart thudded strangely. You knew just how much he loved photography. It was the reason why you both got close back then. Your passion to everything artistic and his passion to capture everything beautiful. You remember so well, how his face lights up at the mention of photography, how he was so willing to teach you how to use the cameras you’ve never seen, and how he shares all his work with you, including the new one he was currently working on. You had access to all of his digital work and manuscript. And it was unfortunate that all these had to go away, leaving nothing to the memory. Nothing to hold close. It probably killed him as well. But what could he have done?

“How about you?” the conversation now shifts to your side. You twisted the ring around your ring finger and showed it to him.

“Awesome!” He gleams. So delighted.

“He is here somewhere, I don’t know where he went… but he should find me in a few minutes,” you looked around.

“You were getting something from the vendor?” Hoseok asked, but you shook your head. You don’t feel like drinking now.

Hoseok gradually finds out how your life is, where you’ve worked and places you’ve been.

“And you met Namjoon at work?”

“Pretty much, he is in the investors group. We met once, talking about a big pharma project and he was one of the champions supporting the good cause, so I owed him a lot,” you shrugged as to say, the rest is history.

“So he made you marry him to pay up all your emotional debts?” Hoseok jokes.

“Not exactly but… you know how I am. I can be very difficult to convince, especially when I am so comfortable with the lifestyles I already have. I dread to be a housewife so when he understood that, everything else falls into place,” you added and caught a tall figure walking along the hallway, dashing in his slick back hair, lanyards dangling.

Blazers flailing, white dress shirt and slacks make up the shapes of his defined abs and thighs. He walks with his head hanging slightly downwards as if he was trying not to catch anyone’s attention but was failing. Everyone turned their head towards him the moment he stepped inside the hall.

He stopped midway and tugged his left sleeve back. His Patek Phillipe Nautilus shimmering handsomely under the spotlight as he studied the time. He lifts his eyes up to scan the room through his brows and pursed lips, wondering where his wife was at the promised time.

You raised your arm slightly and the smoldering figure of a man twitches a big smile and a small bite on his lower lip, making his way to you. Completely aware about the man that was nearby you as he plants a chaste, enveloping kiss on your lips.

“This is Namjoon, Kim Namjoon…” You placed your hand on the small of his back and he reached out to Hoseok first for a handshake, again, his wristwatch peeking out when he covers the handshake with the left hand.

“Sweetheart, this is Hoseok, Jung Hoseok. He is a lawyer…” you introduced them both and Hoseok handed him his name card. Namjoon waits for you to further elaborate how you seemed so friendly with this man. And you can’t say that Hoseok was in-fact your old best friend whom you cut connections with because you’ve had feelings for him when he was in love with someone else. So you say, “An old friend.”

You sighed in relief when Namjoon didn’t catch the extended pause, but you can’t help thinking that he might question more later in the ride home. But for now, Namjoon’s bright smile seems to captivate the whole room’s attention. Small talks, and brief discussion about the direction of the convention and what he thinks about it, comes naturally. But he makes sure you don’t feel left out by the conversation by constantly adding your pharma company name in the picture.

“Had it not been my darling, the company would have gone downhill with their outdated scheduling methods and utter refusal to accept reformations according to modernization,” Namjoon added, and while he says so, so professionally and with full alluring prospects of a seasoned business man, his hand was trailing down the curve of your ass and gently squeezing them— out of Hoseok’s sight. Had you been a terrible pretender, you would have moaned out of context. You can thank your overflowing control for that. You were also cursing his name in the back of your mind and he will have an earful of it when you get home later.

“She single-handedly save the multi-billionaire company from their biggest downfall from the company’s incompetent leader,” Hoseok added, “Also they had a lot of legal issues at the time. I was in-charge of the corporate files before they shifted to joint-venture with Daehan Pharmaceuticals… it was a mess already. Corruption, bribes and unreliable auditing data.”

“Wait…” you intruded, “You were in the pharma that long? So we could have met?”

Hoseok gave you a lopsided smile and nodded. He further explained how he kept sending his colleagues to do site visits because he wants to avoid seeing you. This is where Namjoon begins to realise that you guys might be more than just friends because he asked,

“Why is that?”

Hoseok began his answer with a shrug of his shoulder and pursing his lips. After a brief thought, he admits, “Because at the time, we weren’t talking anymore. She would know why,” He opens his mouth to say more, but glancing down at your wedding ring, he didn’t.

If Hoseok remembered clearly, he was talking to you about a girl he had been pursuing. It was the first time he ever revealed something like that, all along you knew each other. You were studying for your final year and had been bludgeoned with assignments. There wasn’t a right time to tell you until one day on April 17th, he said he was finally going to ask this girl if she would be his girlfriend. A little info on her was that she was in a toxic relationship she was trying to get out from. She didn’t ask Hoseok to wait, but Hoseok was so in love with her, he didn’t mind how long it would take. She requested for time and space. Another man claimed her as his girlfriend when she didn’t say yes or no. Another two were also after her. Her ex boyfriend returned after months of leaving her. Just at the same time Hoseok was allowing her in his life.

When he shared you that information, you felt so betrayed somehow. He was always preaching about how being single is the best way to live and he turned around and did things like this. Pursuing a relationship. You were stubborn, you had egos you wanted to defend. Everything regarding relationships, you refuse to acknowledge. And any slight differences in your opinions were enough to break a relationship, even a strong friendship like you and Hoseok shared at the time. You once confessed to Hoseok that you liked him and he couldn’t return the same feelings. So you accused him of loving someone else and he denied that. When this happened, you felt like you were lied to. Because Hoseok, at the time that you two knew each other, was already having eyes on someone else, treating you as a placeholder, sharing emotions until the girl was eventually available for him.

Then he dropped you.

Things would have been different if he just told the truth. That he was indeed in love with someone when you confessed to him. Things would be much easier and it wouldn’t have gone deeper than it was. You would have walked away, unhurt and without knowing each other at a depth that you’d have to crawl out from. But Hoseok didn’t want to lose you. For some reason, he kept the friendship despite being unable to return your feelings, fabricating attention and giving hopes that he might one day change his feelings. Had you walked out earlier, you wouldn’t have resorted to deleting all contacts with him. His Instagram account, all his numbers, his pictures, galleries. The assignments he helped you with, the emotional support, the ice cream dates and late night phone calls. You would take it all away.

You deleted him from your life, only for him to tiptoe around the same company as yours— afraid of being known but unsure of what he did wrong. You decided that you would punish him that way. By leaving him with no answers of why you left.

“Will you be joining the closing ceremony dinner at Hyatt?” Namjoon politely asked. Noticing that the conversation had run down.

“Perhaps I will. I have to keep the firm going for the wife and kids to eat,” Hoseok perked up, and it was the first time he ever revealed about his marital status all through the conversation.

“Oh, you married her?” the delight in your voice was sincere, you are so happy for him. But his answers weren’t what you expected.

“No I didn’t. She left me for someone else, she was never honest with me, and I was only hearing the things I wanted to hear,” Hoseok rubs his knuckle and politely excused himself when he saw Namjoon was approached by an entourage of bodyguards that guide you and your husband to the next section of the convention. No numbers were exchanged to insinuate a rekindled relationship. It’s like you both understood that you could never return to what you were before. You both are leading different lives now, with different people and different phases. But you hoped he knew just how much he meant to you back then.

Hoseok walked away with a lightened shoulders. Now that he has seen you face-to-face and sure of what life you’re living, he felt a little at ease and a little envious. In the car you once rode with him, this broken-down Honda Civic, divorce papers were scattered on the front seat. The top-most letter being the child custody granted to his wife. His firm is also on the verge of bankruptcy and he was laid off from his contract with the pharma, this convention being the last one he will ever attend. After you left his life, he was burdened with one bad luck after the other. And he was at his last strand of hope when he came to the building. He saw you gracefully presenting on the stage about the medication you have been working on, like how he always wished to see. You were so cool, so engaging, so intelligent in your presence. Namjoon is the ultimate husband you wished for, and of course, you would concede for a man that was at your level. Knowing you as long as he did, you will not settle for less and that’s final. No discussion.

Life is good for you.

Inserting his car keys inside the keyhole, telling himself that, “That’s the price of breaking a pure heart.”

Empty bottle of soda laying on the wooden panel. Your tear-stained face, sleeping on your side under the starry night sky, while Namjoon watched you intently. He covers you with a blanket and lets you sleep. He walked inside the house, and vanished to his home office. In it, he fetches his phone and turns on his table lamp, making a call that was immediately taken.

“I want you to find the burial information on a lawyer Jung Hoseok and send some condolences bouquet,” he instructed with a low voice. The short voice call felt heavy but necessary. Hoseok’s passing was detrimental to his wife’s mental and emotional health— it was important for him and her to get the closure they both needed.

Judging from her frail figure, she won’t be able to attend the funeral. Cremation was planned as requested by Hoseok. His children will not be attending, neither is his wife. The last thing Hoseok wanted was his funeral attended by the people that was the reason for his passing. For years, he had been battling depression and anxiety. It has been a long, lonely fight.

Namjoon watches the silhouette of you, standing against the setting sun, in your all-black attire and hair tied in a bun, hugging yourself. Wind blowing the strands of your hair back at every strike. Your diamond ring twinkling at the light it reflects. The sound of traffic in the distance, honks and vehicles throttling far away.

“The funeral ended gracefully…” Namjoon broke the silence.

You dropped your head and tutted your tongue, smiling weakly.

“It’s not your fault, darling…” your husband’s footsteps padded through the wooden floors to where you were.

“Then why does it hurt so bad? Why does it still hurt so Goddamn much?!” you shrieked.

Namjoon collected you in his arms, so you would rest your head on his sturdy chest, and he whispered, barely audibly heard by you,

“Because when you love, you love with everything you have. I know that much.”

It was then he realized that one is only allowed the closure they deserved;

And, no closure is also a closure.

↳ author’s note it's been awhile, i feel like i've been waiting for my personal life to overflow before i could write something. this is just an excuse to use 'that' picture of namjoon for the banner of a story. how are you? i've recently cut contacts with someone i hold dearly in my life. upon the break, it gave me back the emotions i used to have when i am writing. all this while, i have wasted my feeling, my elaborated word choices on someone who hardly appreciate it. with him gone, i started to think clearer and see things for what they are. i am no longer shrouded by dark grey clouds of uncertainty as i was with him. it was a difficult shift, but i feel better now that he is gone from my life. i dropped a tear or two not because of the love i used to feel for him, but because i felt incapable of being loved the way i yearned. this is the second day after i broke all connection with the said man/boy/creature. i feel liberated after the whole story was written. i needed him killed in my mind. so i wrote it just that. i've returned to where i was before, and i feel absolutely fine.

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