#and with a week-long unending headache before that!

[the-rogue-mockingjay]

Day 6 of this godforsaken migraine and I don't have a single medication to treat it. Just an ice pack and a prayer.

Just how bad do things have to get before the doctors will give me something, literally anything, to help????

[lemony-snickers]

I pick number 7 - dealers choice!

I ❤️ you babe!

7 - envy. hello, my dear. <3 @anubisthe1 also requested this number!

Gai might not have been a particularly good sensor. Hell, most people with any sort of chakra control could sneak up on him without much difficulty.

(That didn't mean he wouldn't take them down with a single punch if they did.)

But Gai was also no fool. And he knew his friends and loved ones so well they could not escape his notice even if they possessed a genius level intellect and understanding of how to mask their chakra.

Which was precisely how he knew Kakashi Hatake had been sitting in a tree near the training fields all morning as he and his team practiced their kata.

The fact that Kakashi had not left the tree to greet them made Gai uneasy.

Kakashi knew Gai was aware of his presence. It was obvious in the way the other man kept throwing what he thought were casual glances over his shoulder while his students were engrossed in their sparring.

Gai was not a subtle person, but it seemed neither was Kakashi. Because he hadn't even bothered trying to disguise his presence. He knew it was useless, anyway; Gai would always find him even if he didn't want to be found.

When he'd woken up at that morning, Kakashi had not intended to make his way to the training grounds. In fact, he'd been solely focused on going to the Hokage Tower to demand a high-ranked mission that would take him away from Konoha for as long as was feasible.

The training grounds held too many painful memories. Too many ghosts of Team 7 laughing and squabbling and generally being a nuisance.

He'd avoided the place ever since Naruto departed to train with Jiraiya because it made Kakashi ill to see the post where he'd tied the boy during the bell test, to bear witness to the crater Sasuke had punched into the earth during their final week of training before the Chunin Exams began.

It was the same reason he'd begun taking a more circuitous route to the Konoha Cemetery in the mornings--seeing the Hospital, which used to only make his stomach churn because he hated the sterile smell and the invasive questions the medics asked, now reminded him that the only one of his students still within the village walls had found a better mentor.

Sakura and Tsuande. Naruto and Jiraiya. .... Sasuke and Orochimaru.

Kakashi could admit to himself he was not a perfect man. Could attest within the privacy of his own heart that he had not been a perfect teacher.

But for a job he had never wanted, Kakashi had also strived to be a sensei worthy of his students. Even when they argued or turned his hair from silver to grey with their asinine and unending questions, he he tried to be patient. Tried to provide them with the training and education they needed to not only survive as shinobi, but to succeed in a line of work which demanded violence and strength.

And now, instead of nursing a Naruto-induced headache or redirecting Sakura's attention from Sasuke's brooding stare to her incredible aptitude for genjutsu or trying not to think about how much the young Uchiha reminded him of Itachi, Kakashi perched in a tree like a spy, observing Gai and his team train through the fluttering leaves.

Jealousy, cold and cruel, curdled in his belly as he watched Neji haughtily correct Tenten's technique and Lee step between them, his good nature too much of a shield for their vitriol to continue.

Why did Gai get to keep his students while Kakashi was left with nothing?

It was a stupid thought, one that made Kakashi grind his lower lip between his teeth in frustration until he drew enough blood to stain the front of his mask.

Of course Gai deserved to be a sensei. He excelled in the role; had been made for it, really. Kakashi could never have been deserving of another team, not when he'd so horrifically destroyed his own. That he had allowed himself to believe he migth be was his own folly and no one else's.

Kakashi lingered until Gai dismissed his students, trying not to sneer at the hearty hug Lee gave his sensei, the curt nod Gai received from Neji, the broad smile and wave Tenten gave her teammates as she jogged away. Then, he climbed down from his perch and began to make his way home through the sparse woods around the training fields.

Gai's heavy hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks a few moments later and Kakashi cursed internally at not having departed sooner.

"My dear Rival," Gai said, his voice unusually hushed, "I wonder if you would honor me with some company."

Kakashi sighed, in no mood for whatever nonsense Gai might have devised in an ill-fated attempt to cheer him up. Before he could answer, however, Gai had used his incredible strength to push Kakashi to the ground. Kakashi protested, legs folding beneath him until he was kneeling in the dirt and leaves.

"What the hell, Gai?"

Gai said nothing, just settled beside him, legs crossed and hands balanced on his knees as he was about to meditate.

Kakashi sighed, resigned--and, if he were honest, too exhausted to protest--and readjusted his position to match his friend's. They didn't look at one another, but their knees just touched in a familiar show of closeness. Silence stretched between them, but rather than uncomfortable, it was soothing--a reminder that they had known one another long enough and well enough for there to be no requirement to fill each moment with words; that saying nothing could as powerful as one of Naruto's overly long monologues.

At the thought of Naruto, Kakashi felt his throat tighten and he made a small, strangled noise behind his mask as he attempted to hold onto his anger and envy.

It was easier than what lay beneath them, the sadness and disappointment which threated to break through the dam of Kakashi's jealousy and wash him away.

Gai turned to look at him, but Kakashi couldn't return the gesture. So Gai simply reached out and patted his friend's back, never uttering a word.

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Sins of The Father - Chapter 35

Summary: Adi makes a decision that will impact the rest of his life

A/N: Hello Lovelies!

I’m back, oh man I’m so happy not to be having any sort of migraines, still getting slight headaches here and there but nothing compared to what I was having in October. Nothing preventing me from writing at least so woohoo.

I’m already working on the next chapter for Gym Membership, hoping to get that out to you guys in two weeks. Thank you for sticking around and being patient. 

Not to mention 300! I’m at 305 or 307 followers, I can’t believe it, that’s so amazing. I love you all. 

I am going to come up with a 300 celebration, not sure yet about the exact celebration, but I shall let you know soon. 

Italics - flashback

Warnings: Grief, kissing, slight make out, mentions of slavers, death, I think that’s it. If I miss any warnings please let me know. 

AO3 Link |   Words: 5,204 |   Previous -> Next

Main Master List   |   Sins of the Father Master List

CHAPTER 35: THE INHERITANCE

Adi’s hands trailed over his father’s armour, he could still remember vividly the last time he had seen Ca’tra, he was almost three years younger, a lot shorter, but he could still remember the feeling Ca’tra always exuded: impenetrable, invincible, and everlasting. 

He remembered thinking it was all some elaborate joke, when his mom came out of the Sintas telling him, his father wasn’t coming back. He was convinced it was only a matter of time before Ca’tra would miraculously appear behind his Ama, or simply jump out and yell surprise at the most random of times, or end up showing up in another ship. Even when he saw Ca’tra’s armour in the sack she was using to carry it home, he was unwavering in his belief it had been someone else’s armour.

It was about two days later, when his comms continually went unanswered, his mother’s unending tears, and the silence that had fallen in the house, along with the constant visits from Babeh, Gregor, Pelli and surrounding friends, was he fully persuaded in his heart his father was never coming back. 

The family he had dreamed of for so long was gone, the father he looked up to, the man who trained him, who held him when he cried, who had treated him like a son from the moment he appeared in their lives had disappeared from his life permanently. 

The ship was in hyperspace, only two parsecs away from Kashyyyk, he took a moment to really think about the decision he was going to make, was this what he wanted? To follow in the steps of his grandfather, mother and father? To follow the Mand’alor? Did he see himself as a Mandalorian? As a warrior? Was it right for him to put on the armour that would define who he was, where he stood in the galaxy, and how he connected to the creed?

He hadn’t tried it on, not even when his mother opened the cache and showed him the armour on Papsr. He was tempted. His eyes kept focusing on the helmet that had appeared so menacing and so comforting at the same time. He sat down on his bunk, holding the helmet in his hand, he took in a deep breath and put it on, almost instantly the HUD activated, everything looked different. It would take time to get use to wearing a helmet all the time, but not uncomfortable or impossible to adjust too.

There was a small yellow icon on the top right corner of the HUD flickering, his eyes focused on the icon. The screen went black for a second before what looked like their common room in their house appeared, the torso of a man appeared, as hands adjusted the helmet back and forth, until Adi saw Ca’tra sit down on the chair in front of the helmet. 

He looked young, fresh, fit, a cheery smile on his face, his hand running through his hair, as he fixed himself. 

‘Hi Adi’ he offered a small wave, as his face only brightened. ‘Not sure when you’ll be seeing this, but if you are seeing this, that means I’m not around.’

Adi felt his throat begin to tighten, as the voice he hadn’t heard in almost three years filled his ears. 

‘It’s late, your Ama and you have just gone to bed. In case your wondering it’s the night of when I proposed to your mom.’ The dimple that only appeared when Ca’tra ever looked at Amara or when he spoke about her graced his smile. 

‘You might not remember but we stayed up late partying and planning our future as a family; I made you some promises tonight, and I’m sorry I failed in those promises Adi. Ner ad’ika, I wanted to fulfill those promises with all my heart and might, but as your mother constantly reminds me, life’s a pazaak game, unless you can cheat your way through it, you never know the hand you’ll be dealt.’

His eyes started to water at seeing the man he missed from his life, there were no words to say how much he wanted to be by that man’s side right now. How much he wanted to feel his hand tussle his hair, like he use to do. To smell his scent of gunpowder, grease, dust, musk, and the metallic scent that always seemed to linger around him. 

‘I just wanted to um …’ Ca’tra rubbed the back of his neck, ‘Ha! You know I’m not good with words, not really good with anything except your mom and you. You both have given me so much more than I ever thought I would get in this life.’ 

Adi could feel a tear slide down his cheek, he went to wipe it, only to feel the coldness of the beskar helmet. 

‘Adi’ka, ner ad, I know you think I call you these things simply because of your mom, but that’s not the case. Ever since I met you, and you tried to punch me for hitting on your mom …’ Ca’tra smiled and let out a chuckle, ‘I knew I wanted you to be my child. You are my child. My little one. I love you Adi … maybe I should use your real name, Khoan Vel.’

Ca’tra took in a deep breath, ‘You are an amazing son, Khoan. There’s something I wanted to do, and I’ll do it at the wedding and make it official. Not sure if it’ll count if I do it this way, but in the event I don’t make it then, I want you to know how much you mean to me.

Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad, Khoan Vel (I know your name as my child - adoption rites). 

From this moment on, you are my son Khoan Vel Gaan. 

Ner ad’ika, my son, you are a joy and a light in my life I never expected. I know there will be times when we butt heads, and we may even end up getting angry with one another and never talking. However, I want you to know no matter what, I love you my son. I will always be here for you, and I will always love your mother and you.’

Adi watched as Ca’tra wiped away a tear, he wanted to run into his father’s arms, he wanted to tell him he would always be his son, he’d never let him down. 

‘Adi, there may be a time when your mom will meet another man, someone who will make her happy, someone who will make her laugh, who will fill her life with love and joy. It may be hard for you at times to see someone else step in to my shoes, but if it’s for her, promise me you will take the time to get to know him, to see what she sees in him. However, if you think that he’s not worthy of being by her side, then make his life a living hell. You have my permission.’

Ca’tra chuckled at little, it made Adi chuckle along with him, he wondered how he would feel knowing Din was the one who had captured his Ama’s heart.

‘I’m kidding, well to a degree. Just … just don’t let him in too easy, throw him some curveballs here and there, although knowing your mother, she’d be doing that already. Son, there are so many things I want to tell you, so many things I feel I should impart.’

Ca’tra cleared his throat, his thumb and forefinger passing over his lips, pursing them together, “Okay, first things first, this armour, this is for you. Whether you decide to take the six tenets or not, this is your inheritance as my son. Some may say that you are not deserving of it, or that only those that are truly Mandalorian are allowed to wear the armour. Well tell them … you know what, tell them where they can stick their unsolicited comments, and make sure they shove it so deep it gives them …’ Ca’tra cleared his throat again, ‘Sorry, got a little carried away, what I’m trying to say, don’t listen to what anyone else tells you. This armour … is yours and yours alone.’

Adi wanted so much to have his father there, to have the man who took him in without a second thought, who taught him how to defend himself, how to be there for his mom in a way he never thought of. He wished above all else that he was there telling him these things in person, rather than in a holovid. 

’Adi there will come a time in your life when you’ll meet someone who - ohh how do I say this … it’s different for everyone, it could start off as hate, it could be as simple as a hello, they could end up being your best friend. Somehow, in some way, there’s a moment when you look at that person and you realize in that moment your life will never be the same. Imagining your life without them beside you, without their smile, their jokes, their kindness, whatever it is that draws you to them, all of a sudden you will realize they complete you, they make you whole. When that happens ad, you have to promise me.  Promise me you won’t push them away, you won’t make them feel less then they deserve. At the same time make sure they don’t make you feel less than who you are, or unworthy to be by their side. You are a brilliant kid, smart, stubborn like your mom, kind, quick witted, and you have a big heart Adi. 

Love is a tricky thing, sometimes you think you love someone, fight to be by their side, only to realize you never stood a chance. And that’s okay. It’s okay to try and lose, because it means you were brave enough, courageous enough, and willing to do something most don’t have the courage to do. 

Then there could be a moment, when your heart is breaking and you don’t think you’ll ever find the right one, and you stumble upon a garage with a pair of legs sticking out from underneath a speeder and you realize the love you thought you had for someone else, could never measure up to the love you really feel for the right one. 

Just remember to always treat them with respect, treat them with kindness and compassion, treat them with the honour and dignity they deserve whether the relationship works out or it doesn’t. They opened their heart to you, that’s a privilege they grant you.’

It surprised Adi to see him wipe a tear, he let out a soft chuckle as he wiped a tear away ‘I know a grown man crying… these tears are because I am happy and blessed to have found you and your mother. Don’t be afraid to cry Adi. Don’t be afraid to show emotion. There’s nothing wrong with being able to show emotions and cry, there are some who would say it’s ‘unmanly’ to cry, ignore them. Tell them to stick their advice the same place as those who tell you, you can’t wear the armour.’

Ca’tra glanced at something on the wall behind the helmet, and then back at the visor, ‘Adi, I have so much more I need to tell you, however, I also have to get up in a few hours. I’ll be making recordings throughout of things that I feel I should tell you, they’ll all be stored in this helmet. Don’t worry you’ll be able to find them easily enough. 

I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to tell you these things in person, son. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it back to you. I will try with all my might to make my way back to you, but if I can’t know that I didn’t give up easily, know that I gave it my all to make it back to you and your mom. 

Even though I might not be by your side physically, at least you’ll have these holovids, and my own amazing wisdom.’ Ca’tra chuckled rubbing his hair, ‘Your mom will probably tell me that my wisdom is something that no one should listen to’ he let out another chuckle.

‘I love your mom, Adi, and I love you. You are both my family, and the day we will get to be united as one clan, will be the day that my world feels complete. You may not want a family of your own Adi, and that’s fine, you don’t have to try to live the life I lived, or to follow your mom’s footsteps either. You just follow your own path, whatever your decide or choose, we will be proud hakayrus (parents) because you are our son and we love you very much..’

Ca’tra stood from his seat and pressed a button on his vambrace, the recording finished, and the hud simply showed him his room. He took off the helmet wiping his eyes of the tears he had been shedding for the past while. 

He looked at the helmet once his vision was back and no longer obstructed by the tears that were simply free flowing at hearing his father’s voice again. His fingers tightened around the helmet, as he pressed his forehead against it, “I miss you dad, I miss you so much. Thank you.” 

He placed the helmet beside him, as he stood. The tears wiped clean. He opened his compartment, and pulled out a new flight suit, he laid it on his bunk beside the armour. He wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do, but he felt he had to do this.

He took a knee in front of his father’s helmet, placing his hand on top of it, gently, reverently. He took in a deep breath, and closed his eyes bowing his head towards his father’s helmet..

“Teh ibic kusa'yr Ni malyasa'yr surya arsaor ti kar'ta be a Mando. Ni danija at oyacyir ner jibr miasa'iaru yaa mateh gotal'ur jid giarioa, buir. Ni vor entye par e'lyreu'anr ka bal par daorida at hbina ka. Ni malyasa'yr draar digur gar” (From this moment I will wear you armour with the heart of a Mandalorian. I vow to live my life in that manner that would make you proud, father. I thank you for teaching me and for continuing to guide me. I will never forget you.)

Maybe the rites didn’t count since it was via a holovid and not in person, however knowing that Ca’tra Gaan made the effort to do this for him, was willing to take him on in front of everyone as his son, meant more to him than he ever realized. 

He stood changing out of the clothes he had and slowly putting on his new attire, he took his time adjusting the flight suit before putting on every single piece of armour, double checking all the weaponry on it like his hakayrus taught him, every time they donned their armour. He didn’t have any gloves, that would be something he could purchase later on. He attached his cuirass, took in a deep breath as he lifted the helmet and placed it on his head. 

He took his time to open his eyes, viewing his world through the hud. It was a disorienting experience at first, there was a lot of information. He walked around his room, getting use to the new visuals. He was walking backwards, when a red light flashed on the left hand corner, showing him what was behind him, he moved his hand behind his head, seeing his fingers wiggling. 

Seeing all the features the buy’ce (helmet) had to offer, made him realize how amazing Ca’tra, his Ama, Babeh and Din were, they were able to see all that information and still be the badasses they were. They absorbed, assimilated and acted on the information provided to them, within an instant. Although he had played around and been taught how a buy’ce works, it was very different to see it in action. 

He felt like a new born fathier, trying to find his footing, it was very different walking around and dealing with all the added information, little icons popped up when he looked at certain items. He remembered his father telling him, ‘focus on what you need to see and what’s important at the moment.’

He practiced for a bit longer before he decided to venture out of his room. 

- - - - - - - - - - 

Amara was focused on the readout in front of her, she had noticed the hyperdrive was running a bit sluggish, it was still pushing an optimal output however, she never liked it when her ship dipped below her own acceptable levels. She smirked hearing Din’s voice in her head ‘Mesh’la you know, it will still run.’

She chuckled remembering their bickering. 

’Sweetie, I know you loved your Razor, but if I ever saw your ship and how you attempted to repair it, you and I would’ve never happened.’

Din laughed, his jovial booming voice bouncing off the walls, ‘I promise you, I took a lot better care of the Razor than you think I did.’

‘From the way you describe it, it certainly doesn’t sound like it.’

‘The Crest was my home, my lady, of course I took care of her.’ He leaned over pressing his forehead against hers, ‘The same way I take care of you.’

‘Are you saying, you’re just finding the easiest and fastest fix for me?’

‘Never’ Din placed a gentle kiss on her cheek, as he shifted closer to her on the couch, Adi wasn’t home yet, he was sparring with Fennec, and Grogu was napping in the room he was sharing with Din. Din’s hand cradled her jaw gently as he slowly turned her head to look at him, ‘I’d use only the very best materials and the most exceptional mechanics to fix you’

‘Oh, so you’re saying I do need fixing?’

Din’s eyes widened as a confused look appeared on his face, ‘No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. I think you’re perfect the way you are.’

‘Oh, then I’m a mess you don’t want to bother with?’

‘No! That’s not … what I mean is …’ Din looked flustered not sure what was the right thing to say, he was ready to apologize to grovel, when he saw a smirk appear on her lips, as her eyes sparkled.

‘You’re so easy’ Amara laughed out, he let out a frustrated sigh, chuckling along with her as he pulled her towards his lips, kissing her with a passion he had forgotten existed within him.  She shifted till she was sitting on his lap, running her fingers through his hair. When they both pulled back in order to catch a breath, ‘We should probably stop.’

Din nodded against her forehead, as his hands found their spot on her waist, ‘Yeah, we should otherwise I won’t be able to stop’

‘Not to mention, this is not something I would want my son or your son to walk in on’

‘True’ Din pecked her lips, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek followed by a kiss on her neck, ‘Yeah’ his warm moist breath flushed over her neck, ’I don’t think Adi would appreciate seeing this …’ he pulled back to look at her, his hand caressing her face, ‘You are so beautiful.’

‘You don’t have to do that’

‘I’m serious, cyar’ika. You have no idea how beautiful you are, every time you smile, you look at me, every time I see you take care of those you love, those who are in need, I am amazed by your beauty inside and out, you are amazing and I am honoured to be by your side.’

She pressed her lips against Din’s, deepening the kiss by tilting his head back, ‘You know …’ she mumbled against his lips, ‘We won’t …’ she tried to get out, as he chased her lips, ‘Be able to…’  his hand shifted to the back of her head pressing her lips back against his, chasing her taste as though it was the very air he needed to breathe, ‘For a while.’

‘Why do you think I keep trying to hold on to this moment?’ He quirked his eyebrow as he smirked at her.

Amara cleared her throat, this wasn’t the time to be lost in thought. Adi hadn’t said much since they arrived at Papsr and as soon as they boarded the Sintas he locked himself in his room with the armour. She tried to offer what she could as an explanation, but either he didn’t hear her or he wasn’t ready to listen was all she could determine from his silence. 

She wandered to his door at least ten times since they took off from Papsr, however, she just couldn’t bring herself to knock on her son’s door. There were times when he just needed a moment to himself and there were times when he needed her, for right now, he needed space to deal with his grief.

The sound of the door sliding open behind her, gave Amara a sense of relief knowing that Adi was ready to talk, “How are you feeling?” She focused on the diagnostic report, giving Adi time to get his words ready. She didn’t want to force him or put him on the spot by staring at him. 

“Ama” hearing his modulated voice, made the statement he was about to make all the more real. He watched as she slowly lifted her head and turned to look at him. She didn’t say anything, simply stood and walked over to him. She was visibly holding back the tears, as she stood in front of him. 

“You put it on” Amara offered a smile through her trembling lips, he looked so much like Ca’tra in that moment, the way he was standing, the aura he exuded through the armour.

“I did” he cleared his throat, afraid his voice would start shaking.

“How does …” now it was her turn to clear her throat, if Ca’tra was there he would’ve been so proud of him, “How does it feel?”

“Good. Surreal. A little weird if I’m being honest.”

She nodded in agreement, “Yeah, I get that” her hand fidgeted with the wrist band she’d always worn on her wrist, it had belonged to Ca’tra. He gave it to her the morning of that fateful day, he wanted to give her something to help her realize he was always by her side. 

“Is it okay if …” Adi motioned to the armour he was wearing.

Amara placed her hands on his helmeted cheeks, “Of course it is, that’s what he would’ve wanted. It suits you.”

“He … He left a holovid for me, he …” Adi cleared his throat, “He performed the Gai bal manda (adoption ceremony - literally ‘name and guardian’) on the holovid.”

There was a look of shock on Amara’s face, he never told her, he was planning to perform one via a holovid. The plan was to do it in front of all their family and friends at the onvior warasu’ir (wedding ceremony). 

A smile spread across her face, “I’m happy for you. He loved you sooo much, not being able to do it in person really ate at him that day. I’m glad he was able to do it, even if it was via a holovid.”

“Does it still count?”

“Of course it does. Without a doubt. It counts.”

“The hud is hard to get use to”

“I know. It takes time. The trick is to keep your buy’ce on for as long as you can stand it, then take a break and try again, increasing the amount of time you wear it.”

“Is that how you learned?”

“More or less, except I played with Babeh’s helmet when he let me. Plus, I got really use to wearing the magnifiers I use while working on the engines. It’s a similar concept.”

“Oh true, no wonder it felt a little disorienting at first.”

“Are you going to paint it?”

“What?”

“The armour?”

“I don’t know. The white, black and blue just feel right.”

“I understand. Just know the option to change, is there. Do you remember what the colours mean?”

Adi nodded as he glanced down at his armour, “Blue means reliability, black signifies justice, and the white means a new start.”

Amara tugged him over to sit in the co-pilot seat, as she took her seat, her legs shifting on the chair until she was comfortable, she leaned her head back, chuckling to herself, “Do you know why he painted those colours?” She glanced over to Adi.

He simply shook his head no.

She smirked as she thought back to that moment, “He said he painted it blue, because even though he may be late, battered, and bruised, you could always count on him to show up. Eventually.”

“Yup, that sounds like him” he chuckled along with his mom, remembering the amount of times, he would arrive, bruised or just in the nick of time, “Why did he add the black?”

“Ahhh … that …” Amara took her time with that answer, she shifted a little in her seat, feeling the weight of the answer that was to come forth from her mouth, “When Ca’tra was a little boy, before he joined the fighting corp, he was living on Taris. It … let’s just say it wasn’t a nice place to grow up. After learning about what it meant to be Mandalorian, to see the way most valued honour and dignity, he understood what he wanted to bring to his life. Justice. Granted it was his own kind of justice, but it made him realize that was something seriously lacking in the universe.”

Adi was silent, nodding slowly, “No wonder”

“No wonder?”

Adi shifted in his seat, readjusting his flight suit, “Um … well Ca’tra made me promise not to tell you.”

“Not to tell me, about what?” Amara quirked her eyebrow as she looked at Adi, if Ca’tra was there she would have had it out with him, “Actually, how many times did Ca’tra make you promise not to tell me things.”

“It was just that one time…” he held up a finger, “Ok, maybe two times …” he slowly raised his second finger, before he shifted his head side to side raising his third finger, “Three. Definitely three times, but they were really good reasons”

“Mmhmm” she crossed her arms as she sat back, “What was it that he told you not to tell me?”

“This was about three months after we met him, you weren’t able to pick me up from school, so he volunteered.”

“Right, I think I remember this - - you guys ended up being half an hour late, and I was about ready to kill him.”

“Well the reason we were late, was because he … he was busy saving someone from a group of slavers.”

“What? He never told me this”

“He wasn’t sure how you’d react about him having to make a deal with slavers while your son sat beside him.”

Amara chuckled, “Well he had a point there, if I had learned about it then I would’ve probably killed him.” She settled in her seat, looking at her son, his coming-of-age ceremony was just a few weeks away, seeing him sit there in his father’s armour - -  it all sunk in how much he had grown from that scrawny kid she saved all those years ago. “Well, what happened?”

“Ama you should’ve seen him, the way he reasoned with them, the way he tried to convince them to let the person go. He sat there only speaking when he needed to, and even though he had to eventually resort to threatening them, he was able to make sure the person was safe. He told me afterwards, all it takes to make sure justice is served is for one person to care. One person to offer help makes all the difference in the world.”

Amara couldn’t help smirking thinking about all the ways Ca’tra made an impact on their lives, from that first meeting, till the last moment he drew breath. “You know he added the white to his armour after he left the covert. He said it was his new start. A new start that led him to the best possible outcome. He always said the best choice he ever made was leaving the covert and finding his own way as a mercenary slash bounty hunter. He was glad his path led to us.”

“I am too” Adi smiled as he looked at his mom, even though she couldn’t see it he had no doubt she knew it was there. “I’m glad I’m his son; I’m grateful I have this as an inheritance” he motioned towards the armour, “It makes me feel in some way he’s still here with me … with us.”

She reached over holding her son’s bare hands, “Me too. I’m glad you have it.” She smirked at the fact he didn’t have gloves, he looked as though something was missing from his armour. “Tell me, does this mean you are going to take the Resol’nare or are you just honouring your father? Either way, I’ll support you.”

He gave her hand a squeeze before she shifted from her seat. He didn’t pay attention to what she was doing, as the console began beeping with an alert, “I’ve vowed to live my life in a way that will honour my father, and I believe taking the Resol’nare will honour him in the greatest way possible.” He reviewed the alert, “We’re coming up on Kashyyyk, we’ll be dropping out of hyperspace in about ten minutes.”

“Good” Amara took her spot again, passing Adi a small container, “I’ve been waiting for the right time to give you this.”

Adi glanced from the console to the container his Ama had in her hand, he took it carefully, opening it to find a pair of new gloves similar in design to hers and Babeh’s, it was made of the finest dewback leather. He put them on, flexing his fingers, listening to the creaking of the tension from the brand new leather. There was also a three-sided knife lying at the bottom of the container, as he held it up gently he recognized it as the one belonging to Ca’tra, “How…”

“I made sure that day, there was nothing of his left behind. I knew he would’ve wanted you to have it. After all, he inscribed your name on it.”

He turned it gently, to see the names of Ca’tra’s family, those of his biological family, and that of his adopted family. The last two names were the freshest engraved, Amara Vel (O’yare Fett), Khoan Vel Gaan. He couldn’t help smiling at their names, “I guess this makes it official, I’m his son.”

“His love for you made it official, that …” Amara motioned to the knife in his hands, as she prepared the ship to exit hyperspace, “Is proof of the love he had for you, the love he always felt for you. I’m glad you got to know him, Adi.”

“Me too.”

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[kit-fisto-obsessive]

Captain Rex Is In Trouble

Chapter 14: A Fresh Perspective

AO3

[previous] [fic masterpost] [next]

Summary

"I'm sorry, my friend," he sighed. "I'm just tired."

"Try exhausted," Monnk said. "You look like shit. What has the 501st been doing to you?" 

Notes

So I'm sorry-not-sorry for last week's chapter. I did tag it slow burn, didn't I? I have loved all the screeching in the comments!!!

I'm very excited to see what you think of this week's chapter, for reasons that I think will become apparent very quickly.

As ever -- unending thanks to my beta @cyarbika.

Enjoy!

Rating: T

Warnings

N/A

" – of course, after I ascended to the level of a god and the local population of sentient rocks declared me their supreme overlord and sexiest sentient of the year – "

Kit frowned as he registered what Monnk was saying.

"What?"

Monnk glanced up from his datapad, smirking. 

"Well, hey there, General Fisto. Welcome back to this plane of existence," he said. 

Kit blinked. 

"What?"

Monnk put his work down and crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow at Kit.

"I got bored of calling your name and started making shit up," he said. "That was about ten minutes ago."

Kit sighed. He placed the datapad he'd been staring blankly at for the last hour – or however long it had been – down on his desk so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. 

"Forgive me," he mumbled, trying to massage away the headache that had been lodged behind his right brow ridge since he woke this morning aboard the Resolute. 

"I don't know if I can," Monnk sighed. "It was one of my best. Twists, turns… romance, betrayal. A highly erotic subplot. You missed out."

Kit snorted, opening his eyes and lowering his hand.

"Truly, I am devastated to have missed it. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me and that you will recount to me your epic adventures, and any erotic subplots, at some point in the future."

Monnk threw his head back and laughed. Kit smiled despite the exhaustion and the headache – and everything else that had transpired in the last twenty-four hour standard period. He had genuinely missed his second in command.

"Seriously though – are you alright? You're a bit out of it."

Kit blew out another breath, his eyes slipping closed as he considered how to answer the question.

"I'm sorry, my friend," he sighed. "I'm just tired."

"Try exhausted," Monnk said. "You look like shit. What has the 501st been doing to you?" 

Kit swallowed, looking down at his lap for a moment.

"The 501st were very welcoming," he said, his fingers toying with a fraying seam on his trousers. "It was merely a… tiring campaign." 

"I heard. It sounded… bad." 

"Is it ever good?"

Monnk snorted softly.

They lapsed into silence and again, Kit's thoughts drifted. 

He'd known that eventually he and Rex would have to have a talk, just as he'd known what he'd have to do when that time came. It's exactly why he'd been putting it off, enjoying the vague undefined nature of their relationship – a mere taste of what he could never have. 

He'd known it couldn't last. As the tension between them inevitably built, Kit had known it would come to a head. Even though the tension had been so delicious, thrilling and exciting in a way Kit hadn't experienced in a long long time, it had just been the tolling bell of their impending end. The longer he'd left it, the harder he'd known he was making it for himself. 

Still, he couldn't quite figure out where it had all gone quite so disastrously wrong.

The image of Rex's face before he'd stormed out  – stricken with fury and pain – would be burned into Kit's memory for the rest of his days. 

That he'd hurt someone he cared for so deeply… it was unforgivable.

Monnk’s voice broke through the swirling storm of his thoughts.

“Listen, let me take the rest of these pads and get this datawork done so you can get some rest. You clearly need it.”

“Really?” Kit blinked. “But you hate datawork.”

“I said I’d get it done,” Monnk said while smirking and gathering the pads scattered across Kit’s desk into his arms, “not that I’d personally do it.”

Kit snorted, running a hand through his ahwey. 

“Well thank you all the same,” he said. “A rest would be… much appreciated.”

“I didn't want to say earlier, but you look like shit. I mean, I know I said it anyway, but still. I felt minorly bad about it."

Kit laughed, squeezing the tresses at the back of his head.

"Thank you for your kind words, Monnk. I've missed you."

"I missed you too, Kit," Monnk said. His arms full of datapads, he used his elbow to hit the doorlock. He grinned at Kit as he backed through the door. "We all did. Glad to have you back – see you in the morning!"

Kit watched him go, then closed his eyes with a sigh. He needed a rest. Actually, he needed a meditative retreat – but that was a distant fantasy. He likely wouldn't find it that relaxing anyway, being out of the loop only served to make him more anxious and stressed. 

Whether it would cause more or less anxiety than what was caused by being an integral part of the command structure of a largely enslaved army, currently involved in a pan-galactic war, Kit didn’t know.

He rubbed his forehead and then, with a flick of his fingers, locked the door to his office-slash-bedroom. Another finger flick and the lights dimmed – the relief on his aching head almost instantaneous. Kit kept massaging his forehead as he rose from his desk and walked towards his bunk, pausing only to rifle through his still unpacked bag and grab his personal datapad. 

He settled down on his bunk, not bothering to get under the covers just yet. He shoved the thin pillow behind his back to cushion his ahwey from the cool durasteel bulkhead and got comfortable, then opened the comms app. Kit quickly piggybacked onto the GAR’s long range communications system, then scrolled through his contact list. Luckily, the particular comm code he was looking for was saved in his favourites, so it only took him a fraction of a second to find it. 

He double checked the standard chronometer, but it was still early morning on Coruscant. She might be busy, but if he was lucky, she wouldn't be. Although, reflecting on the past few days, luck wasn't on his side.

The tides of the Force seemed to be changing however, and the call was picked up almost immediately. 

“What’s up, fish breath?” 

“Hello Dara, it’s lovely to see you too.”

The hologram form of his oldest friend grinned back at him, settling back against her desk chair. Not the oldest as in the eldest, merely the friend he has known the longest. Plo was his eldest friend, a fact Kit liked to remind him of as often as possible.

It was always a little disconcerting to speak to Dara over comms. A fellow Nautolan, Kit knew her skin to be a rich deep blue – the ends of her limbs tinged with purple – but over comms she was a horribly washed out. To Kit's eyes it always made her look ill at first glance. 

At second glance she appeared quite well, though it wasn't always easy to tell with her. She seemed relaxed, happy. She was wearing what looked like her casual robes, softer than the usual ones provided by the Temple quartermaster, sitting in her office.

Dara grinned at him, her fangs catching the light.

“What do you want, kelp head?”

“It’s been a while,” Kit said, scratching his chin. “I thought I should call and check that you haven’t burned down the Temple.”

“Not for lack of trying,” she said, sweeping her ahwey over her shoulder. “I hear Ryloth is still standing.”

“Barely,” Kit said, swallowing. Best to change the subject. “So, how are you?”

Dara pursed her lips as she looked at him, but let it go.

“I’m alright,” she said. “Busy, and tired of course, but I’m doing alright. You know how it is – not too good and not too bad. I’m surviving.”

She reached out, and a mug appeared in her holo hand. She took a sip as Kit replied.

“Assessment season is coming up. How is that going?”

She nodded with her mouth still full, wiping a dribble from her lips before she spoke.

“Well… I made a bit of a rod for my own back there.”

“Oh?”

“Mm,” – another sip of kaf – “I didn’t like the exam structure. It was almost all essay questions, and not much freedom of choice? So I added more maths and some data analysis, and then made the final section a choice between two essays, a big maths problem or some data analysis which is a bit of a mix of both. It's been – a lot of work.”

“Sounds like a good idea though,” Kit hummed.

“It is and it isn't. Better for them, worse for me. It's a lot of work and… have you heard about the assessments for the younglings and the initiates?”

“No?” he said with a frown. “That seems… unnecessary.”

“Tell me about it. To be fair, it’s because there's concern about the quality of education dropping, but fuck – we’re trying our best. Anyway, the Council of Education decided they want us to do formative tests for every fucking level, so they can track progress. I’m going to drown under marking but… well. It’s still up to me what the actual exam entails.”

“What have you decided to do then?” Kit prodded.

“I’ve prepared a few different worksheets. They have to choose a rock. Draw the rock. Label the rock. There's a few questions based on what we’ve done in class but they’re all multiple choice because I’m lazy. Maybe a sentence answer for the older kids. I’m trying to make it fun but… well. We’ll see. Might not even let them know it’s a test.”

Dara sipped her kaf with a soft frown, lost in thought. As ever, it was hard to tell in the washed out blue of the holo – but he thought that the skin under her eyes looked a little darker and more puffy than usual. She was clutching her kaf a little tighter than usual, but that could mean anything. Kit bit his lip in concern. 

“What about Molly? Do you get to see her often? I’m sure she’s busy.” 

“She is, but we try to have dinner together at least once a week,” she said, smiling widely as she always did when the topic of her old padawan was brought up. “More often, usually. And she comes to my office for kaf and a chat every few days. Bant too, if she can get away. She comes to our dinners if she isn’t on shift – I don't know if she’s mentioned.”

“She has indeed,” Kit confirmed. Dara threw back the last of her kaf and placed her mug back out of the field of view.

“It’s nice. Nadhar joins too, though not as often. He has his own thing with some of the other younger medics. How is he, by the way? Or did you not get to see him before he left?”

“No, we crossed over shortly,” Kit said, resting an arm behind his head. “He seems… alright? Exhausted, but well in spirit.” He frowned. “Though as I said, I only saw him briefly.”

“I’ll make sure to check in with him when he gets back to the Temple,” Dara said. “It should be easy enough to guilt him into joining us for dinner.”

“Your willingness to emotionally manipulate our padawans never ceases to astound me,” Kit said with a grin.

Dara shrugged.

“You call it emotional manipulation, I call it parenting,” she said. “I’ll make him his favourite to sweeten the deal.”

“Creamy fish pie with breadcrumb and crispy bacon topping?” 

“You know it.”

“Truly, the depths of your evil knows no bounds,” Kit said, and Dara laughed.

She reached for her kaf cup and brought it back to her mouth, frowning when she found it empty. Kit hid a smirk.

“What about Cherise?” he asked.

“Oh, she’s well,” Dara said, placing her mug back on the desk. “Busy as usual, a victim of her own success. 79s is going from strength to strength, not only with clones but with the locals too. I don’t get to see her as often as I’d like anymore. Even when I sleep in the apartment, which I do most nights truthfully, she doesn't get in until after I've fallen asleep. Some days we have breakfast together and then she goes back to sleep, but more and more she’s just too tired.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is,” Dara sighed. “I’m no better. I stay up when I can, to see her when she gets in, but I'm too tired as well. We’re both just… tired.”

She shook off her misery with a literal shake of her head, her ahwey swinging wildly.

“Enough about me though. How are you?” she asked, resettling in her chair.

“I’m well.”

“Really?” Dara studied him with a frown. “I heard the Ryloth conflict was… rough.”

Kit sighed and rubbed his brow, frowning.

“It was,” he said. “Wat Tambor and Dooku… The less said about it, the better.” He bowed his head, rubbing his palms together. “In truth, we’ve all seen worse in this war.”

Dara gazed at him, lips pursed and brows furrowed with concern.

“I haven’t, Kit,” she said softly. “Many of us in the Temple haven't. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“You know how it is, Dara,” Kit replied. “Not too good and not too bad. I’m surviving.”

She exhaled softly and they gazed at one another. 

Kit couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t know Dara. As children in the Temple, not even toddlers, they had spent hours playing together in the pools of the creche. There was no one, not even his padawans, who Kit knew as well as he knew Dara. In return, there was no one who knew Kit as well as Dara did. Even over comms, where pheromone communication was impossible, they had no need for words.

There was a world of comfort in her eyes as she studied him, pity and warmth and love. He loves her just as much. Neither of them need to say it, though they do often. 

Eventually though, Dara cocked her head and squinted at him.

"Go on then, I'll bite."

"What?" 

Dara looked at him with one of her brow ridges arched.

"Whatever you actually called to talk about," she clarified. "Not that this chat hasn't been lovely, but something is clearly bothering you.”

Kit shifted uncomfortably. There were downsides to her knowing him so well. For instance: the fact that he had never been able to keep a secret from her in his life. 

“What makes you say that?” he asked. He knew what her answer would be. Sure enough – 

“Well you look like shit, and you’ve barely let me ask you a question, which is what you always do when you don’t want to talk about yourself. Like you said – Ryloth isn’t the worst combat you’ve seen. What else is up?” 

Her eyes narrowed, and Kit braced himself.

“Does it have something to do with that Captain you've talked constantly about for the past few months, and yet haven't mentioned once so far today?”

Kit stared at her for a moment, then sighed. Damn her. He rubbed his hand across his jaw, wondering where to start. 

He ended up telling her the whole story. Once she got him started, he found he couldn’t stop.

The first time they met, and all the times after. How they'd only grown closer after he'd been assigned as the temporary General of the 501st. How he'd fallen for Rex's heart, his smile, his strength of spirit.

The way he'd tried to pull away, even when he found himself only falling harder. 

The party. The way he'd wanted so desperately to kiss Rex, the feeling of their bodies pressed together and the way Rex had looked at him. 

The way Kit knew they could never be together. How he knew Rex deserved so, so much more than what Kit could give him. 

The night before when Rex had come to his quarters and tried to kiss him. Kit's attempt to gently rebuff him. 

How it had failed, so utterly and spectacularly.

When he'd finished, he looked down at his lap. He breathed out to work through the tightness in his chest. Once it loosened fractionally he looked back up at the image of Dara – these days the tightness rarely went away, so a little looser was all he could manage. 

Rex had made the tightness go away.

"Well?" he asked, studying Dara's face.

"Well what?"

"What do you think?"

She stared at him, frowning. After a moment, she shrugged. 

"It seems like a perfectly well reasoned and logical decision," she said.

Kit blinked at him. 

"Is that all you're going to say?" he asked her. 

Usually she had endless rants about Kit's love life, prepared in advance. Now though, Dara ran a hand through her ahwey and sighed, brows creased. 

"Well what else would I say, Kit?" she said, obviously aggravated. "That as your friend I'm tired of watching you forgo any chance at happiness because you don't feel worthy of it? That I'm tired of you using logic to push people away?" She fixed him with a look. "It's nothing you haven't heard before. Over, and over, and over again. Why bother repeating myself?"

Kit stared at her. For whatever reason, there was only one part of what she said that really stuck out in his mind. 

"I'm happy," he said.

Dara fixed him with that look again.

"Don't lie to me. You aren't good at it." 

He swallowed, looking down into his lap. 

"It was the right thing to do," he said. 

"Was it though?" Dara asked. "The logical decision isn't always the right one."

"But – "

"Life isn't logical Kit. Love isn't logical. It's… it's like the shuttle problem."

He looked back up at her, raising a brow ridge. 

"The shuttle problem?" he asked. 

"Yeah, you know. That famous ethics problem," she said. "There's a shuttle heading down a track and three people tied to the track. You can't free the people tied to the track but if you push a lever you can send it down a different track, where it will only hit one person."

His brow ridge remained firmly arched. 

"I don't see how this is relevant," he said. 

But that was often the way with Dara, drawing parallels he couldn't see at first. Her mind may move in away altogether different to his own, but once she drew him a map she was usually right. 

She explained. 

"Well, the logical decision is to push the lever, sacrificing only one person instead of several. But that doesn’t make it the right decision." She smiled at him, pityingly. He tried not to resent it. "Life isn't maths Kit, you can't live it being guided by sums and logic."

"But you love maths," Kit pointed out. 

"I know."

"You've said 'maths is life' on several occasions."

"And I stand by that statement," Dara said, folding her arms. "In any case, your sums are wrong. You never give yourself the right value, in any of your equations."

"If life can't be guided by maths and logic, what does it matter that my sums are wrong?"

Dara glared at him. 

"Stop being stupid. You aren't at all, and it's irritating," she said. "You're the one who wanted to talk, so let's talk."

Kit sighed. 

"I mean, you said you explained to him why you couldn't be together, but did you give him any chance to respond?" Dara continued. "You keep telling me how damn smart he is, don't you think he would have considered all that himself?"

Kit ducked his head, his cheeks heating. 

"No," he admitted. He’d been too caught up in his own head to consider what was going on in Rex’s. Yet another way he'd been an inconsiderate fool apparently.

"And… you know Kit,” Dar said beseechingly, leaning towards the camera. “You know this wasn't the right decision. For you, or for him." 

He raised his head when she paused. She was looking at him with naked concern and pity.

"I mean, isn't that why you called me?"

Kit swallowed. 

She was right. 

She was always right. 

It was why he called her. To have her pick apart his thoughts and lay them out for him. To have her hold up a mirror and force him to really look at himself. A different perspective to make everything instantly clear to him, where before it was muddled and confused.

As she says often, she doesn't have time to deal with his bullshit. 

"I felt awful as soon as I said it," he admitted. 

"See?" Dara said. "You don't need me to tell you this shit, Kit."

He swallowed. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. 

"He was so much more upset than I thought he'd be," he whispered. 

Dara cocked her head, frowning a little. 

"As in… you didn't expect him to be upset or…?"

Kit shook his head, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye as discreetly as he could manage. 

"No, no," he took a deep breath. "It's just… he was so angry with me. I've never seen him so angry."

Dara breathed out through her nose, studying him. 

"I mean, I only know him from what you've told me, but that doesn't sound like him."

"It wasn't like him at all… Or not who I thought he was."

The last bit Kit murmured, mostly to himself. Dara sighed, leaning on her hand and gazing at him. 

"Well… What exactly did you say?" she asked.

She grabbed her kaf from off screen and took a sip, frowning when her mug was empty again. She rolled her eyes and put it back on her desk, scowling. Kit smothered a smile behind his hand. It quickly faded as he started to talk, recalling one of the most painful moments of his life.

“Well… I started by saying it would be inappropriate for a General to see a Captain. He’s my subordinate and I owe him a duty of care, the power imbalance… that sort of thing.”

Dara frowned at him. 

“Well, I can see the problem he had with that right away.”

Kit scowled.

“You can’t be okay with Kenobi and Vos and Secura dating clones and then use that justification to turn your Captain away. And don’t say it's because you’re on the Council or it’s because he’s a captain. It would be embarrassing.”

“You can’t deny the power imbalance would be an issue,” Kit said with a scowl, his shoulder hunching defensively. 

“Yes and no,” Dara hummed. “There’s no reason for it to be inherently unhealthy – it’s all about how you act within that power imbalance, and whether you’re conscious of it. I know you’re conscious of it, so… are you planning on exploiting him? Using him?”

“No! Of course not!” Kit said, horrified by the mere idea. 

“So what’s the issue? Really?”

“What do you mean?” Kit asked. He knew exactly what she meant, and she knew that he knew, but she humoured him anyway.

“What is your actual problem with starting a relationship with a man who you are clearly crazy about? Because it sure as shit isn’t his rank.”

She was set on making him actually say it, wasn't she?

“It’s because he’s a slave, Dara,” Kit exploded. “It’s not about me being a General and him a Captain, it’s about me being a General and him a slave.”

Dara remained calm in the face of his anger, studying him with quiet eyes. He took a breath and tried to calm himself too. She knew that, of course she knew that. She just wanted to make him admit it.

As much as he hated it, he needed to talk about it.

“That doesn’t change the fact that it seems to be one rule for you and one for the others. And I know you’re genuinely happy for all of them. It’s just about you holding yourself to stupid standards again,” Dara said softly.

Kit grunted.

“If anything… You explaining that you can’t possibly have a relationship with him because he’s a slave when he’s the one who initiated everything and is no doubt intimately aware of that fact is downright insulting, moron. You’re taking away what little agency he has. Hell, I’m kinda pissed at you – we both know you’re smarter than that.”

Kit hummed, turning that over in his head. She was right. She was always fucking right. He exhaled, rubbing his aching forehead.

“Perhaps,” he allowed, “but it was after that that he got really angry.”

“Well, okay. What happened next?”

"He pointed out many of the same things that you did, and then I explained that he deserves someone better than me," he said, "someone who could be there for him in a way that I couldn't. That I was too old for him. I didn’t get a chance to say anything more."

Dara pursed her lips, frowning. After a moment, her brow ridges raised, as if something had just occurred to him.

"Kit," she said slowly. "Did you say you were too old, or did you say he was too young? Because the distinction is quite important."

Her meaning hit him like a runaway speeder, piloted by a particularly hefty rancor. He wracked his brains desperately, trying to remember the exact wording of what he'd said.

"You are so young, and –"

"I’m too young?"

"I… may have said he was too young," he admitted. "I certainly said he was young… and he certainly heard that he was too young." 

"Kit…"

Kit buried his face in his hands with a groan. 

"You fucking moron."

"I know," he moaned. Force, what an idiot. 

"Oh I wonder why a man who's ageing process was artificially accelerated might be offended by you calling him too young?" Dara said, with blistering sarcasm. 

"Dara, please –" 

"I wonder why that upset him?" she continued, really getting into it. "You absolute fucking kelp head. You shit-for-brains sea slug. You waterlogged fucking sea sponge. Is your massive head actually filled with bubbles? For fucks sake!" 

He dragged his face up. His best and oldest friend was looking at him with a mixture of exasperation and fondness, anger and amusement – her scowl periodically broken when she could no longer hold back her smile.

"Well, how do I fix it?" he asked her. The barest fraction of a whine crept in, but if Dara was just going to insult him then he saw no problem with it. 

Dara just looked even more amused. 

"What do you mean, how do you fix it?" Her tone and gaze was blisteringly sardonic. "Apologise to him, you moron. On your hands and knees. Grovel, and pray that he forgives you."

He sighed.

"I don't even know when I'll see him again…" he said. "It's hardly the kind of thing to discuss over coms."

He buried his face back in his hands. 

"Shit."

Dara let him wallow in his misery and self pity for a while. They sat in silence on opposite sides of the Galaxy, the same as they would when they were simply on opposite ends of a sofa in one of their quarters. They could sit in silence together for hours, but it wasn't that long before Dara's voice cut through his thoughts again.

She always knew when to let him be, and when he needed dragging out of his own mind.

"I can't say that I'm all that surprised," she said. "It was only a matter of time before your constant self-sabotaging hurt someone other than yourself." Her tone wasn't kind, but it wasn't as harsh as it could have been either. Not as harsh as Kit quite probably deserved.

Once again he lifted his face from his palms to look at her. This time her face was much softer, her lips gently pursed as she gazed at him. The exasperation had receded, leaving only fondness and a trace of pity. 

"I miss you," Kit told her.

She smiled at him – warm, bright and crooked. She was about to reply when her com gave a warning bleep. 

"Whatever," she said, rolling her eyes. "I need to go, I have to teach a class in 20 minutes."

"I love you," Kit said, smiling at her. 

"I love you too, dickhead," Dara said. "I'll message you later. We aren't done talking about this." She leaned forwards, jabbing a finger at him before she disconnected the call.

Kit gazed at the empty space where her face had been before sighing and tossing his com in the direction of his desk. He missed, and after staring apathetically at where it rested on the floor for a long moment, he waved a hand and lifted onto the desk.

After brushing his teeth and changing into his sleep pants, Kit climbed into bed. Usually he slept in the nude, but the cold depths of space were just that – cold. He pulled the covers up under his chin, noting that he could probably do with a second as he flicked off the light.

He gazed at the darkness above him and thought of Rex, of how badly he'd fucked everything up.

Kit closed his eyes with a sigh, and tried to go to sleep. 

Notes

Kit and Dara are each others emotional braincells. They both have to do a lot of heavy lifting.

Some of you may recognise Cherise from the wonderful @cyarbika's Walk Me Home, and of course No Strings Attached. Of course in the Terrible Jedi universe Wolffe is aroace, so Dara got to swoop in there instead >:)

Thank you all for reading. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated and endlessly treasured.

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[spearingskies]

Sun’s Eclipse Before the First Dawn of Spring ❁

   The commotion in the castle corridors is unusual, to the point where even Hinoka pauses to listen, hand holding a new kimono for her favorite doll suspended in the air to listen to the quick footsteps of the guards and words and orders thrown around that she cannot make out. Last time there was this much movement was when Father was preparing to leave for that Peace Something or Other - she does not remember the whole term, but who cares - together with little Kamui. Did they come back? The doll and the clothes fall to the floor instantly forgotten, the young princess eagerly picking herself up to get ready to leave the room. If Father has returned, she has to go greet him!

   Pushing the door open, she steps outside - and immediately almost gets knocked over by one of the rushing soldiers. The man stops on the spot, turning towards her; their eyes meet as he stares at her, almost through her, as though he saw a ghost, and full three seconds pass before he remembers himself and offers a quick bow.

   “M-My apologies, milady…”

   With that, he is off again; Hinoka’s eyes escort him for a moment, before she makes her way in the same direction, keeping to the wall to avoid any more people crashing into her.

   Why does she feel like he was apologizing for something else?

❁

   It does not take long for Hinoka to understand what happened. Young, sheltered and innocent however she may be - still - she knows already what death is, after all.

   Messengers come and go, bringing news upon news. Ninjas in the palace’s employ exchange and deliver reports. The guards whisper anxiously between one another. That woman, Kamui’s mother, kneels in front of the throne, sobbing uncontrollably; big brother Ryoma stands next to her, his face pale, unmoving as though frozen, or made of stone.

   It feels as though no one wants to trouble Hinoka with the new harsh truth, but unbeknownst to them, Hinoka knows. Understands.

   Father has not returned. He will not return, because an evil man from Nohr sent him to where Mother is. And he took Kamui, too, but not to Father. He took Kamui to darkness, to Nohr.

❁

   To her, the sun that rises above Hoshido every day has always felt like a gentle god, a caring parent; unflinching, unfailing, always there for them to count on. Enveloping them in light, warmth and joy and bestowing upon them unending blessings. Now that their world has collapsed and shattered into pieces, its constant insistence to keep appearing every day without pause, shining, inviting to play and be joyful, acting as though nothing at all has changed —

it feels nothing short of ignorant, uncaring and almost downright cruel.

   The castle is quiet now; Kamui’s mother confining herself to her chambers to mourn, big brother spending most of his time training or handling current affairs, even soldiers passing through the hallways as carefully as they can, as though not to disturb the lingering souls.

   In the meantime, behind closed doors, Hinoka weeps. She weeps for weeks, weeps for Father and for Kamui, weeps so much that one could expect her to have run out of tears by now. Food and drinks are refused more often than they are accepted, and even when she does eventually give in to hunger, everything passes through her body roughly and not without a fight, as though she had tried to swallow a bowl of rocks. Pale face, messy hair and rings around her eyes stand as proof of sleepless nights, spent instead in an unfair struggle of a little, naive, innocent girl chasing dreams and demons. The doll and her new kimono rest abandoned, having been kicked in anger into the corner of the room, like the trash of yesterday that will never return and thus is meaningless;

❁

— but as days pass, a new chapter opens, and Hinoka slowly begins to do more than just cry.

   The castle is quiet, but not silent, and between the sobs and the throbs of a headache torturing the exhausted mind, her sharp ears can still hear. The footsteps of soldiers pass by as they and the ninjas bring new reports, having more important matters to attend to than ensuring that the little princess, whom they assume too young to have a head for such topics, remains oblivious. And so, sometimes in bits and pieces, but enough for her to put together nevertheless - it reaches her. News of Kamui’s whereabouts. Another failed rescue attempt. A skirmish near the border. A recent Nohrian provocation successfully repelled. That woman - Mikoto - Kamui’s mother - whom she never cared for and thus subconsciously expected the same in return, gathering her strength and resolve to cast a magic barrier over Hoshido to protect it from the invaders. The loving, caring big brother whom she always admired, making a name for himself already as a commander and warrior in spite of his young age, and earning the right to the sacred Raijinto blade.

   She hears, and as her tears begin to run dry, she starts to think.

❁

   The great feast to celebrate her seventh birthday that they had been planning for weeks, naturally, had to be canceled; instead the day goes by calmly, almost like any other. She is fine with that, which almost feels a little funny - she used to think that she would be snapping mad if anything stood in the way of her birthday’s celebration, but as it stands, she would refuse any party right now if it is not a party to celebrate Kamui’s return home. How quickly a turn of fate can teach you something new about yourself. But she spares no thought to that idea.

   Brother is busy commanding the army in another clash, Mikoto spends the day praying to keep up her spiritual power and continue maintaining the barrier; Takumi has classes today, Sakura is taken care of by the nurses. Hinoka is largely left to her own devices, and spends her day doing what would otherwise come as a shock to everyone - cleaning her room. Studybooks and writing supplies are arranged and organized, toys stored away on shelves, in drawers or otherwise out of her sight. Finally, she stops before the long abandoned doll - once a favorite, now a herald of tragedy - still waiting in the corner, and pouting, as though it was all its fault, she picks it up together with its new kimono and carelessly throws it into a box of unimportant trinkets that she then pushes into the same corner.

   Just then, a messenger announces the arrival of a delivery to her, and Hinoka looks up towards the door. A delivery? The package is brought into her quarters, and for the briefest of moments, the young princess remembers what excitement had felt like; amidst all the crying, mourning and silence, she has all but forgotten what it was like to look forward to a birthday gift…

   Slowly, silently, as though in ceremony, Hinoka opens the package and rubs her hands against the soft fabric of the contents: a brand new, beautiful yukatabira, meant to replace the one she has almost grown out of. Picking it up by the shoulders, she stands up to marvel at the colors and design. In whites, yellows and reds, just as she has always liked… There is a small letter attached, and she takes it next.

    To our most beloved Hinoka-hime,

    please accept this gift along with all of our wishes for a good, happy birthday.

    We cannot apologize to you enough for the cancellation of your long awaited celebration, but you are aware of the cause. We know that these times have been difficult for you, as well. In spite of everything that is currently happening, please never forget that you are our beloved, cherished princess. May the Dawn Dragon and the sun’s warm rays shine upon you always.

    Love,     Mikoto, Ryoma, Takumi and Sakura, with all of Hoshido

   Tears well up in her eyes anew with each and every word, finally forcing their way from behind the eyelids and onto her cheeks as she reaches her siblings’ names.

   Is that it? Amidst the disaster and tragedy, Father murdered, Kamui kidnapped, a conflict brewing anew and a world torn to pieces, her family and her people still want her to lead a normal life, in her stupid room, with her stupid doll, while their lives are at stake? To sit back, do nothing and what - wait for the news of her brother’s death next?!

   Her little fists slowly clench around the cloth, and the yukatabira is then thrown at her bed as Hinoka slowly gets back on her feet, swelling eyes rising to look at the door. She appreciates the gift and all, but it will have to wait its turn, as the life she had up until now.

❁

   She is nearly surprised that she remembers the way to the training grounds. This was not a place she was ever supposed to be seen. Little wonder that the lancers, busy with practice, take a brief pause to cast confused glances at her, before her hardy glare and the commander’s harsh voice both bring them back in line.

   Though even he seems astounded, for Hinoka clearly did not simply lose her way around the place, or come here merely to watch; she is dressed in a light, simple outfit, a breastplate as solid as a seven year old can wear, bracers and greaves prepared to protect her arms and legs.

  “Milady?...” She hears a man’s voice next to her as she walks over to storage to pick up a training spear. Eagerly, she grabs the first one, at least twice as long as she is tall, but its weight an size nearly cause her to fall over; gritting her teeth, she puts it away, resorting to a shorter one, but it too is too much to handle… Hand clenches into a fist as she lets out a frustrated groan.

   The man, an older general by the name of Jubei, watches her for a moment before she looks up and their eyes meet. The frown on her face causes him to take a step back in surprise. This is not the gentle, shy princess he has known up until now; though in reality her eye color has not changed, one could almost feel as though a hint of steel now lines her pupils. No words are exchanged, the order clear in her gaze; slowly nodding, Jubei goes deeper into the storage, returning soon with a lightweight spear, perfect for such a young beginner.

   Hinoka accepts it, running her fingers along its edge to get used to the feel. It is a bit small for her taste, she wanted to start with something more impressive; she needs to get strong fast, after all, to support big brother and bring Kamui home. But for now, this will do. She does a thrust, then another; it takes more effort than she had anticipated, but it feels satisfying to imagine a dirty bad Nohrian on the receiving end, and that thought seems to almost replenish whatever strength she just used up.

   Finally, for the first time since that fateful day, a small smile appears on her lips, before she points the spear towards Jubei.

   “Now. You will train me.”

[fateofblack]

Fate of Black: Chapter 3

Fate of Black: Chapter 3

At one point in time Hermione would have look upon the castle walls with wonder and amazement. Unfortunately, since the day she had stepped foot into this building it had been an unending battle. Upon entering the Great Hall for the first time she felt the warmth she had been told she would meet at this place. Then the sorting ceremony happened, the warmth that Professor McGonagall had in her eyes quickly disappeared. The chummy greetings she had received on the train had disappeared as swiftly as well. When the hat was placed upon her head, the blasted thing had told her she was meant for more. Which then led towards it deciding to set her as the first, and only muggleborn to be placed into Slytherin House. The members of Slytherin didn’t look too kindly on what they saw as filth within their midst. The rest of the school distrusted her because of her affiliation with the house of snakes. That first year was abundant with both hatred and torment from all sides of the dining hall.  When she had initially been sorted into Slytherin House, she had anticipated things falling apart. However, the stubborn nature of the bushy haired brunette helped keep her head on her shoulders.

By the middle of Hermione’s first year the students of the Slytherin House had called her as many names as they could think of. They had even attempted to attack her in an uneven duel three of the girls in her dorm had come at her. Their voices shrill and piercing as they attempted to tie her to her bed and lash out at her. In a panic she had somehow released a solid force rebounding the girls to the sides of the room away from her. After that she had woken in the hospital wing with a severe headache. Nurse Poppy had advised her that after the incident she would likely feel such for a few days. She had been excused from classes that week, but not before a brief meeting with her Head of House, Professor Snape. They had an in-depth conversation about her lack of control, he didn’t however have anything to say about the girls that had attacked her. When she had attempted to bring it to his attention, he brushed her off as a sniveling whining mess. That had been the first time.

The second time, later that year had been more of the girls in the Slytherin House and a handful boys in the Slytherin common room. That time had been far worse they had once again attempted to restrain her and lash out on her. Again, panic swept through her body that same unfamiliar force extended from her body. This time two of the boys that were involved ended up with concussions, the girls had cracked their skulls on the tables as they bounced through the common room. When she had come to, she’d been informed that she had been out for a week. Another discussion had to be held this time with both her head of house and Albus Dumbledore. This was a far more intense conversation to be had. Parents were writing to him directly about her actions. When she had attempted to explain herself, the headmaster waved his hand dismissively.

“Hermione, if you are unable to keep your magic in check, we will have to remove you from the school.” The expression that Albus had on his face, was not one of pity, instead he simply had a look of disinterest.

“But sir I –“ Hermione started to be waved off again as Professor Dumbledore turned to Professor Snape.

“Would you be able to assist this child in that matter, Severus?” The professor looked to her and sneered at the young child.

“I suppose, so long as it means she doesn’t destroy half of the Slytherin House while she is at it.” The tone in his voice told her everything she needed to hear. Professor Snape had no desire to assist her in this matter, the look in his eyes did not show pity, but instead irritation that this task was being placed upon his shoulders.

“Very well then” Professor Dumbledore waved his hand to dismiss her.

Hermione was ushered out of the headmaster’s office as soon as the man had dismissed her. Her head of house standing beside her, his nose lifted to her as if she smelled distasteful.

“Meet me in the potion’s classroom after dinner this evening Miss Granger. Don’t be late.” He spun on his heels and left the brunette standing there dumbfounded. Her anger had begun to dig deep that day, she had been ignored by the headmaster, and blamed for the behaviors of other students. Her head of house had no desire to assist her in the issues she was clearly having.

Hermione never made it to the potion’s classroom that evening, nor did she make it the following. It took Professor Snape over two weeks to confront her about this indicating that she was expected in his classroom after dinner. It took another month and an accident down by Black Lake, while Hermione was working on her spell work alone. Then, the professor had found her crouched over holding her hand to her chest.

“Show me your hand girl” Professor Snape snarled vehemently at her. His eyes showing disdain at the thought of assisting her, but he finally understood what needed to be done.

“Why? So you can call me a sniveling whelp again? And mock me as you did the first time I attempted to come to you?” Hermione retorted through her gritted teeth. The professor didn’t flinch at the child’s behavior.

“You damned child. Show. Me. Your. Hand.” Snapes eyes flashed darkly as he gripped Hermione’s shoulder causing her to flinch and give in to his demand. She held out her hand to the man and whimpered as he began to look it over, none to gently. “You foolish girl. Follow me.” His tone left no opening to refuse his order. Hermione’s head fell as she followed behind the man, his robes sweeping the floor beneath his feet as he walked.

The walk itself was made with silence resting between the two of them and the input of snickers coming from the other students. Hermione’s head hung low her bushy brown hair covering her face as she held her wounded hand close to her chest. It was an attempt to protect both herself and her hand from the outside world. Upon arriving to the potion’s classroom Hermione was let in, as he followed behind her closing the door behind him. In this moment there was a shift in the air, he no longer held the air of arrogant potion master. It was a shift that left Hermione on edge, suspicion rising as her body stiffened.

“Wait here.” When the professor spoke, it was softer than when he had first approached her at the Black Lake. Hermione awkwardly nodded her head as she continued to cradle her hand gently. Professor Snape disappeared for a moment after gaining her conformation of her staying where he left her. This gave the young girl to ponder upon his actions, distrust sparking through her body. She heard the shifting of potion bottles from the other room as Professor Snape sought out what was needed.

The unnerving sense surrounding the tall dark man had been swept away the moment he returned from his back storeroom. He almost seemed as friendly as Professor McGonagall had when she had handed over her invitation to the school.

“Now, would you care to inform me of what you were attempting to accomplish with this, Miss Granger?” His tone surprisingly, without the usual condensation she would usually receive in the classroom.

“I-I…I was working on something I read in a book.” Hermione winced at the sound of her voice. She felt weak for failing and allowing herself to be put in this situation.

“And what, would that be?” Professor Snape arched his eyebrow as he held out his hand for the girl to hold out her own damaged hand. “Because looking at the effects it seems to me, you were playing with fire.”

Hermione flinched at his tone, something about it caused her to feel guilty. She felt the urge to tell him, as her shoulders slumped.

“Well Miss Granger? What spell were you attempting to perform?” He began to turn her hand over in his own as he looked it over to establish the damage done.

“Augue.” Hermione whispered barely audible.

“Speak up child.”

Hermione cleared her throat and looked her professor in the eyes. “Augue.”

The man sighed softly and shook his head and pulled a potion out of his robes along with a bandage to wrap her hand. “And this is precisely why I told you to meet me.” Professor Snape began to administer the potion over her hand and slowly wrapped it with the bandaging. “You will discontinue your attempts to use that spell.” Hermione started to say something, but the man simply looked at her discouragingly. “Until you are ready for it, I will assist you in these matters, so long as you show up when I advise you to do so.” He released her hand allowing her to look it over no longer feeling pain in the bandaged hand. “It will take a few days for you to be able to use that hand again, but it will heal properly as needed.”

“Thank you, Professor.” Hermione allowed her hand to fall followed by her head.

“You are welcome child.” Professor snape paused for a moment and spoke up again. “You are to meet me in this classroom tomorrow evening. We will discuss how this will be handled; do you understand me?” His tone left no room for argument. Causing Hermione to nod her head. “Now I would advise you to eat some food and look over your homework as I know you have already finished it.”

“Y-Yes professor.” Hermione nodded again before turning to leave the classroom.

“And Miss Granger, I will advise you to make it a point to show up this time.”  That was the last thing he had said as Hermione left the classroom in a rush to get back to her dorm.

Beyond that day Hermione made a point to not miss the professors evening sessions. The two of them formed an easy rhythm of learning and teaching. Hermione found a passion in spell casting and potioneering. During their one-on-one sessions the two of them began to open to one another.

When the first year came to term, Hermione returned home to her parents had disappeared. Their house had been sold and there was a letter that was given to her by the new homeowners from her parents. The letter had indicated that with her abnormality she would be on her own and that they had no intention of being a part of the madness. It left her with a sense of emptiness, she was both unwelcome at school and now by her parents. The 12-year-old managed to make her way through England to make it back to Diagon Alley. She quickly found the Owl Post and sent off a letter through to Snape. The man appeared shortly after she had sent the owl directing her to the Leaky Cauldron to assist her in settling into a room. They spoke briefly about what would happen beyond that point, and she simply expressed she hadn’t the slightest clue. The man handled her expenses during the length of her summertime, including her school supplies. Through that first summer they slowly began to form more of a familial bond, rather than a student professor relationship. He became the older brother that she didn’t have, and she became the sister he never wished for.

Despite the rough start that the two had, the next three years were spent helping Hermione learn how to control her powers. By her fourth year she had begun to create her own spells, much to Severus’ dismay, as she tended to blow things up often. Severus knew she was bored; it was often something they would discuss during their evening training sessions. She was after all as he indicated ‘the brightest which of her age’, which is why he allowed her to work on creating spells. Severus proudly assisted her in this feat explaining his own experience in Sepumspectra. Classes with Severus as her professor ran smoothly, allowing for brief conversations about the class itself after he released them from the classroom. Which is how she had ended up being accosted by none other than Ronald Weasley one of the afternoons.

[cubedmango]

39 with Klapollo? 👉👈

39. “Please come home, I miss you”

Klavier loves his job—evident by all the songs he's written about it, clearly—but sometimes when the world of law hands him long, winding, unending cases with spotless murder weapons and suspiciously tight-lipped witnesses, he regrets his career choices. Just a little.

It's the second day of what's turned into a full-on three-day trial, and he's exhausted to the bone. After a mostly fruitless time both in the courtroom and at the crime scene, all Klavier wants to do is go back home and pass the hell out. Immediately.

It wasn't like this before, he remembers. There was a time when he could easily stay up for late-night investigations and even sleep on his office couch, if needed. His work ethic was the one thing he could always pride himself on, but these days, it's been replaced by the more urgent necessity to not be a sleep-deprived zombie in court. Or just in general.

Maybe Klavier's already getting old—and Herr Ruffles is getting scarily relatable—or maybe the worrywart waiting for him back home has turned him into a new man, one with a new appreciation for proper rest. And a whole lot of cuddles.

Either way, he's glad to be already on his way to his apartment, when the call comes in from a certain someone. He breaks into a grin.

“Hey,” says his dear Herr Forehead, and just that one greeting seems to heal his headache already. “When are you getting back?”

“In a few minutes,” Klavier tells him, though it's not entirely the truth. He's already at their apartment building, taking the elevator up, but he doesn't have to reveal that. “Why? Did you miss me?”

“You wish,” comes the deadpan response, with the clattering of cutlery. “Just asking so I can heat up your dinner.”

“Aw.” Klavier pouts, without any real disappointment. Dating Apollo Justice comes with the occasional difficulties in expressing affection. He's used to it. “Then maybe I'll spend the night at the office, and come back tomorrow instead.”

His boyfriend gasps. “Klavier Gavin, don't you dare—”

The declaration gets cut off by a sudden muffled sound, and the yelps of Apollo going ouch and fuck and watch it, and then there's a very loud meow, right in his ear.

“Mikeko climbed up my shoulder,” Apollo explains, then says to the cat, “Asshole.”

“Maybe he heard me,” Klavier suggests, “Maybe he has something to say.”

As if on cue, Mikeko meows yet again.

“Translation, please, Herr Forehead,” he requests.

“Please come home. I miss you,” Apollo's saying, and Klavier's heart lodges itself in his throat. Dating Apollo Justice also comes with the occasional attempts at expressing affection. That, he's not as used to. “Who else is gonna get me the luxury food and toys I demand, huh? Not this defense attorney without any cases, for sure.”

Klavier looks at himself in the elevator mirror. The lovesick look on his face could probably keep the media and his fans fuelled for weeks. He doesn't even attempt to school it down.

“I see,” Klavier remarks, carefully even. “At least one of you misses me, then.”

“Yep, just him.” Apollo coughs. “Definitely not anyone else.”

“Then I'll come back home for just him,” Klavier says, “Definitely not anyone else.”

“You do that,” Apollo replies, and when the doorbell rings, pauses for a beat. “Hey, is that you?”

Klavier hangs up.

In a few seconds, Apollo will open the door and probably groan about him being back too early, and the food not being ready yet. After that, he'll probably get shoved into the shower with the firm order to take the most relaxing bath he can, and wear the comfiest clothes he owns. Then he'll probably get treated to a delicious dinner—one Apollo will deny learning the recipe of just for him—and after that will come the long-awaited proper rest. And a whole lot of cuddles.

Yes, Klavier's case probably could've used more of his time and attention today, and staying longer working on it might've helped him crack the little details that continue to be eluding, but there's time for that tomorrow, and he'd rather end his day in boyfriend's warm arms than anywhere else.

Klavier loves his job, sure, but he loves his Apollo just a tad bit more—even if the latter has to endearingly admit to missing him via cat.

[sirowsky]

The Lost Island

Chapter 16 - Parted Ways

Summary: You're back on the island, trying to figure out what the hell is going on, whilst suddenly standing face to face with people you've lost and grieved. Meanwhile, Marcus lands in a heap of problems of his own.

Author’s Note: My head genuinely does hurt after having spent all day wrestling with this one. I do know how to complicate things for myself, but I love this story all the same, so I hope you'll follow me through the magical mystery tour :)

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Cursing, angst, time-travel-headaches. Word Count: 4761 Masterlist (this story) Author’s Masterlist

   Marcus stepped out of the gateway straight into his own kitchen, and immediately called out for Missy.

   “Whoa, dad. What are you shouting for? I’m still right here.”

   She came from the living room, holding her index finger in between the pages of a book she was reading, and when she spotted him, her face turned puzzled.

   “Hey, how’d you get changed so fast?”

   He registered her questions while he stepped closer and pulled her into a hug, but he didn’t really clock the significance of them.

   “What? I was wearing this when I left.”

   “Uh… right. Are you feeling okay, dad?”

   “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just glad you’re alright. How long was I gone this time?”

   She pulled back to look at him, and he turned his head down to meet her eyes but kept his arms around her.

   “What are you talking about? You haven’t been anywhere for like three weeks. Not since that thing with the beetles in Australia.”

   He huffed a laugh, certain that she was joking. But her eyes told a different story.    At that point, he noticed that her clothes were wrong too, and that Anita should’ve been there.    He let go of her and staggered backwards, further into the kitchen, feeling panic gradually build internally as he struggled to absorb the implications of that, if it was true.    Because the unnatural beetle-infestation had happened over two months before the plane crash, which would mean that the crash wouldn’t happen until another six or seven weeks.

   “No… no, no, no… that can’t be.”

   He rambled to himself while he tried to find today’s paper, only to discover that it was indeed full of headlines that he already knew, and that the date was almost five months in the past.    Desperate to believe that it was some trick or mistake, he turned on the tv in the kitchen, which was usually set to a news-channel, but it was the same thing. He even recognized the phrases and the way they were delivered by the news-anchor in the studio.

   “No… I was thinking of the same moment! It should’ve brought me back to the same moment…”

   “Dad, you’re kinda freaking me out.”

   He abandoned the tv and went to kneel in front of her.

   “Sweetheart, I know this is gonna sound crazy, but was I in a plane-crash recently?”

   “No! I think I’d remember that. What’s going on?”

   Unable to keep his frustration in, he got up and started pacing, trying to think it through while mumbling to himself.

   “Shit… This is bad. It brought me back to before it all happened… but why? What am I supposed to do here? Nothing important happe-…”

   He stopped pacing abruptly, when something even more frightening hit him.

   “Oh, god, where the hell did it drop Pita?”

   “Wait, you’re working with Ace? On what? And why? You hate working with her.”

   He turned and just stared at Missy for a few beats. Because she was right. In this point in time, the two of you were still bitter enemies, and if he went to HQ, he’d likely find you there, doing your normal job.    Unless the portal had sent you back here too.

   “Miss, I’m sorry, I gotta go to work, and you’re coming with me.”

   “Fine by me. Someone needs to make sure they scan your brain while you’re there.”

   Once at the Headquarters, he went straight for your office, to Missy’s unending disbelief, but you weren’t there.    He took a quick peek at your itinerary and saw that you were scheduled at a meeting with Ricky, so he headed straight for R&D and Ricky’s office, stomping in without even knocking.    And sure enough, there you were, but it took less than a second for him to see that it wasn’t his version of you.    The harshness in your frame, the tight set of your jaw, the glacier of ice that met his gaze when he sought your eyes, all of it so familiar, and yet it now seemed to be hollowing him out, emptying him of everything that was warm and safe.    Both you and Ricky froze when he invaded your meeting, but it only took you a moment to regain your focus.

   “You’re interrupting a security briefing, Moreno. So, unless it concerns a serious threat; get out.”

   He couldn’t move.    Seeing you like this, so cold and hateful towards him once again, after everything you’d shared, tore his heart to pieces, stinging and flooding his eyes with tears.    He knew that it might just be temporary, that the portal might’ve just dumped him here for a while so that he could accomplish something, and that his Pita was still out there somewhere.    But his love for you had become as integral to his being as Missy was, which made the pain that he felt in that moment, as real as anything had ever been. Because right then, in that time, you didn’t love him back, and nothing he said would make you believe that you ever could.    So, what if it wasn’t temporary? What if the crash and the island would never happen now?    What if that timeline, that specific chain of events, was the only way that you could ever learn to love him…

   “I know you’re not deaf, so unless you step outside right now, I’m gonna make you.”

   “S-sorry… I’m… I’m so sorry.”

   He should’ve backed away, but he just couldn’t.    Unfortunately, though, this version of you had never seen him heartbroken, and assumed that he was playing some angle, because of course, he couldn’t actually be this emotional from just seeing you.

   “Whatever game you’re playing, I’m not in the mood.”

   You got up and came towards him, clearly intending to shove him out of the office, but as you got closer, he suddenly didn’t care that you weren’t his Pita.    He needed to hold you, just one more time in case this was his last chance, as it was beginning to dawn on him that he had no idea what the portal was doing, or what it might have planned for him.    He’d always known that he was utterly powerless against it. But it had seemed to be on your side all this time, so he’d trusted it. But now that trust was breaking, and with it, so was his hope.    Desperate to cling to whatever piece of you still existed, in any timeline, he met you as you came at him and ensnared you in an almost bone-breaking hug.

   “Oof… Marcus, what the hell?! Let go of me!”

   “I should’ve stayed. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have run through like that, we should’ve crossed together…”

   It wasn’t you; he still knew that. He knew that this Pita would have no idea what he was talking about, but he needed to say it, in case your souls were linked somehow. In case some part of you could hear him, across space and time.

   “Crossed what? What’s wrong with you?!”

   “Dad, you’re being really creepy… just let her go.”

   Missy’s words made him feel terrible as he realized how invasive and unwanted his closeness was. He let go of you, instantly backing away, out of the office and as far as the corridor would let him without losing sight of you, breathing heavily against the sensation of his chest crashing in on itself.

   “I wish I could explain… I’m so sorry. So sorry.”

   “Dad, wait, maybe Ricky can help you.”

   Hearing her, the man got up from his desk and came out to the corridor, making Marcus realize that he’d completely forgotten about him.

   “What’s going on, Moreno?”

   He laughed, but a little hysterically, as he stared at the expert scientist, and he felt like he was being defeated somehow.

   “I’m being thrown around space and time by a sentient black rock… I think it wants my help to prevent the complete annihilation of Earth, but I have no fucking idea how or why it brought me here… only that you guys are living five months in the past, from my perspective.”

   All three of them just stared at him at first, but Ricky was quick to recover.

   “Why don’t you come with me to my lab, I’d like to take a look at you.”

   Marcus laughed again, this time with absolute hopelessness.

   “There’s no point. I already know what your scan is gonna say, which is that there’s a spatial anomaly around me that you can’t explain.    I wish I could stay and indulge you, but I need to try and figure out what the portal wants me to do before it’s too late… so that I can get back to my time.”

   He glanced at you, before adding:

   “My people.”

   None of them said anything more, although Ricky looked like he was thinking hard, while you still looked about ready to punch him, so he turned to Missy.

   “Sweetheart, I need you to stay with Ace, okay?”

   “But, dad…”

   “I’m not the version of your dad that you know. I need to get back to my time. As soon as I do, your Marcus will come back. I think.”

   “I don’t understand.”

   “I’m not sure that I do either… but it’s gonna be okay.”

   He tried to make himself believe it, so that she would too, before he picked her up and hugged her for a long moment, and when he set her back down, he looked at you.

   “I hope you won’t remember any of this, once it’s over. But if you do… just know that I’m not your enemy.”

   “In your time… we’re friends?”

   You sounded just as incredulous as he’d expect you to.

   “In my time… we’re a lot more than that.”

   He didn’t wait to see if your face would contort with disgust, he just turned away and left without another glance back.

<><><><><> 

   The wind was so loud that you couldn’t hear anything else, as you plummeted towards the ocean, having no clue how you’d survived this the last time and therefor no chance to replicate it.    But there was some comfort to the knowledge that you had survived this before, and should be able to again, even though it was hard to feel anything but panic as you watched the deceptively soft-looking surface close in on you.    You noticed the pod of orcas just before you made contact with the sea, suddenly terrified that you might hit one or more of them, which would surely kill both them and you.    But just before you hit the water, something seemed to flow over your skin, almost like the softest silk, barely even noticeable when it just brushed against you.    Whatever it was, it was beyond your control, but it had to be what ultimately saved you, because as you were pummelled against the surface over and over again, before you eventually dropped under it, no bones broke. No limbs were torn or thrown out of their sockets.    You knew that you’d been knocked out for a few seconds at least, the last time, but this time you managed to stay awake, which also meant that you felt the multiple impacts, and it wasn’t pleasant.    Thankfully, you hadn’t hit any of the whales, and just like last time, Whelma soon came to your aid, which was good because every muscle was screaming in pain.    Had it really hurt this much last time?

   “Hey, girl. I missed you… but I wish I hadn’t been forced to come back. No offense.”

   She came right up to you, nudging your hand as you reached out to her, as though you were old friends, making you wonder if she could somehow remember your last visit.    Perhaps cetacean brains had some natural resistance to space-time trickery.

   “I need to get to the creepy-ass island this time too. Can you help me?”

   She turned to position her side next to you, so you could clumsily get your sore body up on her back, and then signalled the other four orcas to join her. You assumed it was the same four that had been with her the last time, and it all felt like déjà vu.    You hoped that since you hadn’t wasted time on first travelling for hours in the wrong direction this time, you’d get to the island much faster, and tried to think back to what you knew had happened that day.    It was the day that Marcus had nearly destroyed the village, before his failure prompted the Ozsha to send the tsunami, and he’d stopped them by discovering his new abilities, killing ten of them in the process.    God, this was infuriating! You’d already done all this, already made so much progress since this day, and now it was all undone and you had to start over.    What the fuck was the portal trying to accomplish with this?    You hoped with everything you had that the damned thing had at least sent Marcus to the correct time, and not back here where everything was just terrible.    You’d already forgotten how hard it was to ride a swimming whale, through currents and waves, but at least this time you managed to stay on for the whole ride.    Getting to the island did take much less time now, so the sun was still halfway up from the horizon when you disembarked and prepared to swim the final few yards to the beach.

   “You’re a gem, Whelma. I hope you won’t have to fight this time.”

   You pushed away from her and headed for the warm sand, stepping up on dry land to find the beach intact, meaning that the wave hadn’t happened yet.    So, you took off running towards the village, to warn them.    But you’d forgotten how traumatic this day had already been for them. The roots and the acid having destroyed many of the houses, leaving most of them wandering around, assessing damage or dressing wounds and checking each other over.    You ran into the area to find a horrid-looking Marcus talking to Akela, and your heart jumped.    Partly because you were relieved that this was old Moreno, meaning yours was likely back safe with Missy, but also because you hadn’t thought about the fact that you’d see the Chief alive again.    It hit you like a gut-punch to suddenly see his bright and insightful eyes turn to meet yours, after noticing how all colour drained from Marcus’ face as he caught sight of you first.

   “Mana… Praise Kãne and Kanaloa, they brought you back to us.”

   Oh, how you’d missed that voice. How you wished that you could’ve just talked to him for a bit.    Tears filled your eyes as you stared at him, struggling to believe that this was real for the first time since the portal had dropped you back here.    You closed your eyes against the tears and shook your head for a second, trying to keep yourself sharp and alert.

   “Chief, listen to me, you have to run. The Kaiaka are sending a giant wave that’s gonna level everything in its path and I don’t know how long we have.”

   You had no idea how to convince the one super available that he had the power to stop it, since he wouldn’t have discovered his new abilities yet, but as it turned out, that was far from your biggest challenge.    Because in that moment, the only thing that Marcus was capable of focusing on, was the fact that you were alive. That he hadn’t killed you.    You remembered all too clearly how this regret and shame had weighed on him.

   “Pita… I-… I’m s-so sorry…”

   In your timeline, you hadn’t seen him until after he’d had a chance to begin healing himself from the Ozsha’s manipulation, so to meet him now, to see him still so raw and hurting so much more than he’d ever allowed you to see, was breaking your heart.    He might not yet know how important he was to you, or you to him, but you had to try and take that pain away from him, it was too devastating to witness.    You closed the small distance between you and trapped his chest against your own, ignoring the persistent ache from your bruised body, holding him as tightly as your arms would allow without constricting his breathing.    He seemed understandably confused at first, and reluctant to touch you, whether because of the state you were in, or his surprise at you apparently wanting him to. But he soon surrendered to the sincerity of your warmth, wrapping his arms around your back and holding you as gently as a delicate butterfly.    Grief rippled through him, tearing unwanted sobs up through his throat, and he buried his face against your neck, trying to muffle them, all while his hands kept moving, from your waist to the backs of your shoulders and down again.    As if he needed to make sure that you were real and not some apparition.    You wanted to explain that it wasn’t his fault and that you knew why all of this had happened and what it would lead to, but how could he ever believe it without experiencing it for himself?    And if he didn’t experience those things, would the future you knew even come to pass?    This was so fucking complicated! Why did it have to be time-travel?!

   “Mana, where have you been? Where did you find these new clothes?”

   Oh… crap. How to explain that little nugget.    You pulled away from Marcus, who surprised you by not letting go of you, instead trailing his hand along your arm, down to your hand and holding on to it as you turned back towards Akela to try and answer his questions.

   “That’s hard to explain right now, Chief, and time is not on our side.”

   He slowly came closer, keeping his eyes firmly locked with yours, and you sensed that he was seeing more than anyone else ever could.

   “I think you mean that time is not on your side. Am I correct?”

   How he was able to somehow see that just by looking at you, was incredible, but you still had no idea exactly how much he understood, so you tried to tread carefully.

   “Yes, but I don’t know why.”

   You flinched when your peripheral vision alerted you to a movement next to you, and turned your head to find his mother, Koa, suddenly standing there.    You’d forgotten how utterly unnerving she could be. But you’d also forgotten how powerful she was, in her own way.

   “You are Mana. That is why you are here.”

   Just like the only other time you’d heard her voice, it stunned you with how clear it was, but also with the uncanny sense that something was being passed into you, through her words.    It hit you like a car doing a hundred miles an hour. How had you not figured it out earlier?    Mana. Spiritual power.    This… all of this, being brought back here, at that precise moment before you hit the water, it was to help you understand how powerful your own soul really was.    It wasn’t some unknown power or ability that had saved you from being torn apart, it was your uniquely strong soul, reaching out and borrowing a little extra strength from Whelma and her family. Managing to boost itself just enough to cocoon your body in a tougher shell than your usual aura.    Just enough to save you from breaking any bones or cracking your skull open.    And that momentary connection probably explained why the orca seemed to understand what you wanted as well.    But what the heck did your soul have to do with stopping the spores?    Right on cue, now that you’d apparently done what it wanted, the portal appeared before you, and everyone else literally jumped away from it, except for you and Koa.    You sighed heavily and let your head fall into your free hand for a moment, before looking up at the fucking thing again.

   “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

   As usual, it just stood there, always in motion but also somehow so permanent. So inescapable.

   “Why do I need to know more about myself in order to stop what’s coming? How will that help anything? I don’t understand what you’re trying to do…”

   Marcus hadn’t let go of your hand even though he’d jumped back as the portal appeared, and now that he saw how familiar you were of it, he came closer again, tightening his grip on your hand as if he was afraid that you’d vanish.    A sharp pinch bothered your chest at the thought that his fear was about to come true.

   “Pita, what is that? What’s going on?”

   There was no use in telling him. Either this timeline would revert to normal after you disappeared, which would mean he’d soon learn all about it, or this timeline was forever corrupted, in which case you couldn’t know anything that might happen.

   “I’m not where I’m supposed to be. I have to go.”

   “No, you can’t. I-…”

   He tugged on your hand as he spoke, urging you around to look at him, but then cut himself off when he realized that he didn’t actually know what he was trying to say.    It was almost as though your connection to your Marcus was bleeding into this one the longer you were around him, because the Marcus you knew would never have been this affectionate towards you at this point in time.    That was possibly why he struggled to put words to his feelings. Because to some extent, they weren’t really his.

   “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. This is all just a weird dream. I’m gonna step into that black thing, and you’re gonna wake up and not even remember any of this.”

   You wished that what you were saying was the truth, but you also feared everything about what was happening right now. Regardless of timelines.    You feared that you’d become lost to time, no longer belonging anywhere, and that your Marcus might not even exist anymore, or perhaps that you’d just never find him again.

   “But I want to remember… because even if this is a dream, you like me here.”

   No, no, no, this was not what you needed to hear right now. Leaving him was hard enough, no matter how or why it happened.    Your eyes stung when they met his. At the very least, you had to leave him with some hope.

   “I like you everywhere, Mo. …I love you.”

   Taking advantage of his shock, you slipped your hand out of his and quickly backed away, towards the portal, only turning to face it once you were about to step through.    But you paused, staring into it through the tears that would no longer be held back, for the first time feeling unwilling to trust it.

   “Take me to him. Please.”

   The liquid just kept softly billowing, perhaps moved by the winds and currents of the universe itself.    You closed your eyes, hoping with all the might of your soul that this was the last lesson it had needed to teach you, and then you stepped through.

<><><><><> 

   Marcus stood under a tree in his own garden, staring at his house, seeing his mother and daughter through the living room window, sitting in the sofa and talking, probably about him.    Their version of him. The person he’d need to become for the foreseeable future.    He wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there, but it had gone dark.    He was trying to think back, to remember everything that had been going on five months ago, but he kept losing track of his own thoughts, finding them drifting back to what the portal had showed him earlier that day, after he’d left HQ.    He’d been wandering around for a while, trying to figure out what to do next, what had been significant enough about this point in time for the portal to need him to come back here, when one of the smaller pieces of it had suddenly appeared.    On its own, the little black creature couldn’t take him anywhere, but as it turned out, it could still show him things.    It had climbed up onto his head, and somehow projected images into his mind. Images that would surely rob him of all sleep for a long time to come. Or possibly even drive him mad.    There wasn’t really any point in putting it off any longer, it wouldn’t get any easier to explain no matter how long he stood out there.    Stepping into the house, he was met by Missy’s voice calling for her dad, before she came running to meet him, a hopeful smile on her face that faded when she realized that it wasn’t the right Marcus that had walked in.    Anita followed behind her, but upon seeing her reaction, told her to go to her room.

   “No, you both need to hear this. Please.”

   His voice was weak and hoarse from all the crying, but he had to explain, as best he could, because there was nowhere else he could go, and no other version of him would be coming back any time soon. Meaning he was the only father that this Missy had for now.    They exchanged a look, and after Anita nodded to her grandchild, they all went into the kitchen and sat down around the table. The two of them close together, and him on the opposite side.

   “Sweetheart, did you tell Abuela what happened at HQ?”

   “Yeah. As best I could.”

   He nodded slowly a few times, once more attempting to gather his thoughts.

   “I had hoped that I was brought here in order to learn or understand something that would have importance in the future, but as it turns out, that’s not what this is about for me.”

   He paused to take a breath, trying to keep his emotions in check for as long as he could, while they both patiently waited, looking more apprehensive than confused, thus far.

   “In my timeline… something horrible is about to happen. And Pita and I are the only ones who know about it.    This portal thing, it’s trying to help us stop it, and I thought that it brought me here to find a clue, something that would…”

   Pain overtook him, stealing his voice for a moment, because as he said it out loud, he suddenly felt like the portal had betrayed him.    He cleared his throat and tried again.

   “This is all about Pita. I’m here because the portal knows everything. Every possible version of the future, and in order to prevent what’s coming, I have to stay alive.    I have to be safe, because Pita is the only one that can stop the annihilation of all life on this planet, and if anything happens to me… she won’t be able to do that.”

   Anita tilted her head to the side, but her eyes kept studying him closely.

   “So, you’re hiding.”

   “Not by choice… but yes, I suppose that’s true.    I’d give anything to go back there, to help her.”

   He was able to keep the tears from falling, but the pain refused to lessen.    Knowing that you’d be forced to face this enormous threat all alone was enough to make him wanna beat his hands bloody against the fucking goo.    He wanted to trust that it was doing what needed to be done, but how could he when the odds of your success seemed so insurmountable?    Missy could see his pain as clearly as he could feel it, and it didn’t seem to matter to her that he wasn’t technically her dad, because she came to sit next to him and hugged him.

   “I know how she feels, if she loves you so much that she’ll break without you. But I don’t understand how she can fight something that dangerous alone?”

   “Neither do I, really. I just know that it has something to do with her soul. It’s very special, and it needs to be whole when she faces her enemy, or she’ll fail.”

   “Is your Ace a super?”

   “No. Her power is something else.”

   She paused, and then pulled back so she could properly look at him.

   “Do you believe she’s strong enough to win?”

   He met her worried eyes, knowing that she’d see the truth whether he voiced it or not.

   “I want to. But I’ve seen what’s coming… and… I just can’t.”

—————

Link to Chapter 17

I'm so sorry for being so crap at updating this lately, but sadly, I haven't been feeling well. Thank you for reading, and I’d love to know what you thought :) Have a wonderful day/night!

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Quiet Sort of Love | Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader

✧ Summary: Manager to the Fukurōdani volleyball club, there was no doubt that Itachiyama’s Sakusa Kiyoomi was a strong ace. He brought your team to their knees on multiple occasions, but what you were not expecting was getting to know the nationally acclaimed spiker beyond just the titles and labels.

✧ Warnings: Implicating language and slight spoilers toward the end (you will be warned beforehand :)) 

✧ Notes: Buckle up boys cause this is a LONG one LMAO -> lots of fluff, angst, slight BokuAka, character development, mutual pining at one point, and just me being sentimental over one of my favorite teams  -> #SummerWrites for these! I tended to write fluffier stories

✧  Masterlist 

If someone asked you for the full story, there was no way you could explain it. One moment, you were in junior high, relatively enjoying your time on the track team. The next, you were attending Fukurōdani Academy without a clue to which club you wanted to commit to. 

While you could have rejoined the track team, you were not especially good at sprints and had only done so for your friends at the time. Now, there was a much more daunting pressure about what you were going to be committing your time to. Akaashi has suggested you take-up the open managerial role for the volleyball club, since you were unsure you wanted to truly dedicate yourself to any sport. And, somehow within a couple days of that conversation, with the eccentric introductions of second-years Yukie and Kaori, the current managers, you were attending their volleyball practice on a trial session.

Fast-forward a few weeks and it was already the best decision you had made in your first-year of being a Fukurōdani Academy student.

They were dedicated to their sport, their passion easily radiating off of them and to onlookers watching a simple set. It was what entranced you to begin with - their strong zeal that easily drew others into their bubble. Yes, you were a powerhouse school with a long history of being winners. But it was the people that encompassed the team that drew it closer to your heart.

From the confident yet silly second-year Bokuto, to the mother hen Akaashi, you made fast friends with the team and the other managers.

There were times that you had to remind yourself that Bokuto, the same Vice Captain and nationally rising spiker to gain acclaim, was the same Bokuto who had accidentally locked himself out of his dorm room only to find his lanyard in his back pocket.

And, while reminding yourself of Bokuto, you remembered the text you received from the team group-chat early that morning. You had gone home for the weekend to pick-up some stuff from your family home, the place of residence sitting outside Shibuya and a good thirty-minutes by train away from the inner city. 

But, it was a short-lived trip since the next morning you had to return back to the dorms for a practice match set with your school’s supposed long-term rivals: Itachiyama. GC: Hoot Hoot ⊹⋛⋋(◐⊝◑)⋌⋚⊹

6:15 ahKASHi (๑ᵕ⌓ᵕ̤)         oh no

6:15 Kaori _へ__(‾◡◝ )>         (L/N)-chan pls tell me your awake

6:15 yukie-yukie (｡♥‿♥｡)         (F/N)-chan you are our only hope

6:20 yukie-yukie (｡♥‿♥｡)         @Y/N !!!!

6:23 mother-hen^2 (ﾟ⊿ﾟ)         I’m awake!!

6:23 ahKASHi (๑ᵕ⌓ᵕ̤)         Please tell me you can pick-up some Dorayaki on your way to the school

6:23 mother-hen^2 (ﾟ⊿ﾟ)         ah yes, the patented bokuto revival snacc?

6:24 haaaruki !         thnk u mom

6:24 mother-hen^2 (ﾟ⊿ﾟ)          >.>

6:24 ahKASHi (๑ᵕ⌓ᵕ̤)         Thank you, (L/N)-san. 💓

And true to your word, or text rather, you stopped for the snack on your way back to the school. However, with the surprisingly crowded trains on this unfortunate weekend, you were near sprinting down the street once you got some open space. You wanted to still be on time, reasoning regardless, and with the pace of the crowd you were going to be way later than you expected. You rushed between trains, hopping onto the right transfer and letting your foot tap away in impatience as the train pushed onward.

Nearing the school, you were in a dead-sprint toward the entrance and only inwardly sighed at seeing the large school bus, from what you assumed was the rival school, covering the main gateway. You approached from the back of the bus, students filing out from the opposite end of where you were running. You did not want to glance down at your watch, afraid of the time you would see, and instead tried to inwardly navigate a way inside and around your obstacles. 

Athletic bags and groups of the students littered the area as they unloaded, forcing you to jump over their stuff if you did not want to break your speed. You were so dead-set in your sprint, you failed to notice the number of eyes on the bus following you in your run.

Just as you turned around the pillar, your speed and momentum came to a stop as you crashed into an unsuspecting student. His hands were in his pockets, a mask covering most of his face, but even you saw the surprised look as his hands shot out to steady the both of you.

Immediately, the dark-haired athlete was chastising you, “Watch where you are going.” The young man immediately pushed you off of him, not in an unkindly way but moreso he wanted his safe distance instantly.

You bowed and muttered out an, “I’m sorry!”

The glare of annoyance was obvious, but it only dropped down when he turned to look at his upturned palms, no longer hidden in his pockets but instead being stared at in a mortified way.

I mean, it’s not like you were dirty? You complained inwardly at his expression, but sucked it up anyway. You were the one who crashed into him and owed the apology anyway and so you could do your duty and then bid the supposed germaphobe goodbye.

Team Mom instincts already kicking in, you reached into your side-bag and took out a small pack of wet-wipes. You opened the container, and not one to incense him further, held it out for him to grab himself.

“An extension of my apology.” You stated at seeing his apprehension, before he took two and wiped his hands clean of your grime. 

It was hard to fight down the inward grimace at seeing this utter stranger be so offended at having even touched and breathed the same air as you.

“Komori, nice to meet you.” Another student came up to the two of you, having emerged from the pack of Itachiyama students. “Sorry for my friend here.”

“It was my mistake.” You stated.

“No worries. Nice to meet you, you on the track team?”

You shook your head before glancing down at your watch, losing more precious minutes that you could not afford to waste on a conversation like this. “Sorry, I’m running late. See you around!”

Bidding farewell to the group, who you were sure to see in just a few minutes, you bounded through the school and toward the back gymnasium. The net was already set-up, Akaashi standing toward the center as he warmed-up the spikers, matching up with their heights before the other team made their appearance.

You waved at him as you entered, holding up a bag containing half a dozen of Bokuto’s snacks, before placing it in the careful hands of Kaori. Akaashi thanked you genuinely, only to be surprised when you handed him an iced-latte in a cold glass from the store as well. He smiled, before putting it in the cooler for his undoubted headache later. Yukie looked at you with a curious smile, to which you threw two capri-suns at her - the drink secretly one of her favorites.

They thanked you before rushing back to positions and responsibilities, either continuing to warm-up or simply prep the gym for the other’s arrival. You did as you were told, then lined up to attention when the doors opened to greet your rival school.

While it was only a practice match, the team had already filled you in on the reason behind the unending tension between the two schools. Bokuto spun a tale of wild rivalry spanning generations while Akaashi stated plainly that they had not yet won against Itachiyama in recent years.

Seeing the germaphobe from earlier in the line-up, you stood quiet while the volleyball members silently introduced themselves. Your third-year captain, in his ever so passive-aggressive ire, tightly gripped the hand of the other Itachiyama captain. You fought the urge to roll your eyes and instead let your vision scan the line-up.

The tension was only more palpable during the game. Fukurōdani had practice matches before, but none so eerily… quiet.

Yes, there was intra-team communication and words of encouragement between teammates…  but nothing else.

During the practice match with Shinzen, your third-year teammates acted like old friends with some of those students. They even offered some pointers regarding serves between the two schools. And that school was categorized as a rival to your own as well. Shinzen was in the Fukurōdani group after all - they were your close rivals if anything.

But it seemed that the rivalry between Itachiyama and Fukurōdani ran even deeper than that.

Bokuto’s excitement, while usually cute and endearing, definitely contributed to the current atmosphere as well. Bokuto was naturally loud and with every point he scored, there was a chorus right after from yours truly. But, without an audience to drown out his cheers and the Fukurōdani third-years looking seriously quiet, the tiny Bokuto celebration grated on the nerves of the other team.

You watched the young man from earlier, mask gone from his face now and instead replaced with his own brand of quiet determination, as he ran up and smoothly spiked the ball. The action seemed so natural, it was only when the resounding slap signified again how loud and powerful he truly was, the ball smashing into the ground and landing somewhere behind the upper-risers.

That was incredible strength, you thought inwardly, feeling a similar awe you felt the first time you saw the true power behind Bokuto’s spike.

The awed expression on your face quickly squashed down to grimace, remembering this was the guy you had awkwardly crashed into earlier.

“What’s with that face?” Yukie asked, spying you from the corner of her eye. She stood parallel to you, both of you manning the standing scoreboard. Kaori was sitting with the coach, pen in hand as she took notes on the game.

You put back on your neutral visage as you flipped the score number, “That guy who just spiked, he was the one that I bumped into on the way here.”

“Sakusa-san?”

“Yeah...” You affirmed, trying to subtly point in his direction with your gaze alone.

She looked at you with an amused expression, patting you on the back in pity.

Fukurōdani lost the practice match.

And while a part of you was inwardly hissing, there was no doubt that both schools gave their all and the better ended up on top. The third-years commended the team, they were still in the process of finding their rhythm. After all, the points were not that far apart to being with. Having lost 2:1, you noted that the points were relatively close in all three sets.

Bokuto’s displeasure was obvious, complaining loudly that he should have worked on his jump-serve more, but still shaking everyone’s hands at the call of the game.

With both teams working to clean the gymnasium, you walked over to the net to help loosen it and fold the poles. Some of the team members of either side were lightly mingling, commending each other on certain skills while introducing themselves.

You spotted Sakusa in the corner, having helped put away the mats already and retreating to the spot furthest from the crowd. Fighting the urge to bemusedly chuckle at the action, your attention snapped to Komori approaching you, a water-bottle in hand.

“From your running earlier - thought you were a member of the track team.”

You smiled in a friendly manner, “Nope, just a manager of the volleyball club.”

He shot a smile back, “I see. I missed your name earlier...?”

Sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck, embarrassed over forgetting your introduction to your senior, “(L/N) (F/N), nice to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you, too!” He repeated back your words before adding, “How cute.”

You angled your head in question, surprised at his boldness and flabbergasted from replying.

He continued, “So, are you -”

“Yes, this is all good and well.” An arm swung across your shoulders as the owner cut him off, “But we better help our team out.”

Yukie shot a wink over her shoulder, whisking you to the other end of the room as someone else took over helping breakdown the net. You shot her a curious look, before your attention was grabbed back to the corner Sakusa was inhabiting.

It seemed Bokuto had found him, issuing a direct challenge to the other wing-spiker for their next match. Seeing your teammate, boisterous and loud, next to the quiet and narrow-eyed Sakusa was such a direct contrast; you had to remind yourself that they played the same role on their teams.

Bokuto grumbled the rest of the night, which only continued into the weekdays at school. You formed a study group for a particularly painful math class. And currently, said group had some vbc members crowded around a round table in the library. Most occupants preferred to spill the tea - Yukie and Konoha always had something regarding their second-year class. 

Which ironically left the younger two to herd the group. You tended to go with the flow. Which left Akaashi, the ever so smarty-pants honors student, to often lead the charge. (He also grumbled that you teased him about this fact, but you were also in the same honors classes yourself.)

You got in five pages worth of outlining before the conversation shifted. Focus on the class was easily torn as Haruki brought out a monthly volleyball magazine.

“Check it out, an entire profile on Sakusa Kiyoomi.” The libero stated, opening up the magazine as Konoha leaned over to look.

“Wow, lots of eyes are already on him.” Kaori stated.

“Anyone who saw him play during junior high would know he’s one to watch during Interhigh.” Haruki voiced.

“Well, I’m in the top four.” Bokuto muttered, arms crossed as he read along the magazine.

Akaashi sighed, putting down his pencil as his curiosity grabbed his attention, eyes straying to the article as well. Besides, Sakusa was a first-year just like the two of you, if he was this much of a threat it would be good to soak up any useful information on him

“The photograph looks a little far, don’t you think?” Yukie said with an unsure smile, pointing to the stiff Sakusa standing at least ten feet away from the photographer. “They couldn’t have zoomed in at all?”

“Maybe this is zoomed?” Konoha asked with a brow raised. 

You took a look and fought the urge to grimace aloud, you could barely tell it was him either. The action shot on one page was good, but for their interview photo he was covered completely with a mask and hat, just his eyes visible and still relatively far away from the photographer.

“Well, I don’t expect anything less from a germaphobe like him.” You commented, before turning back to your notebook. 

You saw multiple occupants’ expressions reel back in surprise before curiously looking toward you.

Kaori voiced their curiosity with a raised brow, “And how do you know that?”

“I - I bumped into him before the game!” You cursed your weak resolve, hands coming up in defense. 

“WHA?!” Bokuto asked, making you realize you only told Yukie about the prior encounter. The librarian shushed your group with a disapproving stare, before walking away. “You knew his weakness this whole time?”

Konoha laughed, “What are you going to do with that information? Sneeze on him during the next match?”

You shot eye contact with Yukie, the brunette simply shooting you teasing smirk as she leaned back in her chair. She was your older-senpai, but damn was the eccentric manager so ruthlessly teasing! Her love of food was the only clear read you could get off of her. Otherwise, it seemed like Yukie just loved to sow mischief.

“Wait. Weren’t you talking to their libero after the game? Was it Komori?” Haruki recalled, asking more out of curiosity then of seriousness.

“Um. Yes, well he introduced himself after I almost knocked over Sakusa-san.” You explained, nearly sweating buckets at some of the second-years’ gazes.

“Wait, knocked him over?” Konoha asked, glancing back down at his textbook to place a pen in it, then close it entirely.

“Well, I was running and didn’t see him when I turned the corner!” You continued to explain.

“Sure, sure.” Yukie waved off, sitting up and then sipping from her water bottle.

“I was rushing to bring the snacks - come on guys, you know this!” You defended, a sheepish smile on your face now as the other occupants varied from teasing to surprised.

“(L/N)-san, didn’t the teacher ask us to get something for her?” Akaashi cut in, already in the process of putting some of his study materials away.

You breathed a silent sigh in relief, agreeing and mimicking his actions as you readied to leave the sudden hot library. Yukie’s teasing was enough, but once Konoha and the rest started rolling it was all over from there.

“Yes, let’s get going.” You accepted immediately as you organized your school things, “See you all after class.”

Somehow, Akaashi was already up from the table and waiting for you at the door. You followed behind him quickly, going in the direction of your next class. Entering it, there were a few lingering students - some on their phone, others listening to music - but otherwise the two of you were alone.

You felt a small vibration from the pocket of your skirt, checking the messages from the infamous instigators of your group.

GC: Hoot Hoot ⊹⋛⋋(◐⊝◑)⋌⋚⊹

12:15 yukie-yukie (｡♥‿♥｡)           Nice receive, Akaashi

12:15 yukie-yukie (｡♥‿♥｡)           ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

12:15 BROkuto ᕙ( * •̀ ᗜ •́ * )ᕗ           cmon ahkaaashi; don’t you want to spend time with me? :C

12:15 yukie-yukie (｡♥‿♥｡)            Enjoy your alone time ;)

12:15 haaaruki !           yah “studying” ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Akaashi had a dead-panned expression back on his face, undoubtedly reading the same messages you had just skimmed through. The young man was so smart and quiet, and yet so silently sassy, you really cherished having him as your friend. Akaashi was the mother-hen of the group, undoubtedly, but you wondered how blessed your team was so to have such a patient and thoughtful setter in your ranks.

The two of you relished the silence of the room, sitting next to each other for this class, and resuming the earlier studying that you were interrupted from before. 

Life after this moved very quickly - thoughts of Itachiyama and the target named Sakusa was pushed in the back of your mind. Suddenly, your powerhouse of a volleyball club was having non-stop practice matches with others within the Fukurōdani Academy Group. Shinzen, known for their style of combination attacks, and Ubugawa, known for their serves, were two schools in Tokyo you often saw.

But, with them, came the introduction of Nekoma High School.

You almost felt bad for Akaashi after the first training camp with all three schools. Yes, you were familiar and friendly with the other schools, but with the introduction of middle-blocker Kuroo Tetsuro and his friend Kenma, it brought all sorts of adventures for your little group. He was certainly a sly cat, wielding the art of provocation like it was his second-skin. Fukurōdani had many practice matches with Nekoma throughout the spring semester, it was almost mentally jarring how quickly the Interhigh prelims crawled up on you.

Being friends with the other schools made the preliminary matches all the more intense - near screaming in support from the stands. You were friends with people in these other schools - managers whom you shared watermelon with in the scorching sun; and, forgetting volleyball, just teenagers whom you had seen at high school house parties throughout the semester - it was entirely personal during the prelims.

And while your school fell second to Itachiyama - you were excited to see your first ever nationals tournament.

To keep the teams organized in one spot, you were all staying in a swanky hotel not far from the sports center. It seemed to be a popular spot for other teams, since you had spotted familiar red and black athletic gear in the lobby when you entered. Nekoma was standing to the side by the chairs, Itachiyama littering the opposite area of the lobby.

Bokuto immediately bounded over to Kuroo and Kenma, Akaashi following behind begrudgingly, citing he did not want the spiker to wander off and get lost. Your eyes followed them, waving a hand at the Nekoma duo as you mentally weighed joining their conversation. Scanning the rest of the room, your eyes landed on Sakusa in the nearby corner with Komori hovering nearby.

Just as you made eye-contact with the libero, he waved you over with a friendly smile.

“Hey - good to see you, (L/N)-san.” Komori greeted, you waved back and made the small walk over.

“Hey to you too.” You replied, looking at both boys.

“Hi, (L/N)-san.” Sakusa stated back, as curt as ever. He was leaned against the wall, hands hidden in his pockets again. His eyes skipped over you quickly before looking away and scanning the room - you fought the urge to inwardly laugh at how easy he was to read at the moment.

For someone so collected and intimidating on the court, there was something so amusing at seeing him so on edge at the moment.

You were about to say something when someone called your name from behind. Waving a quick goodbye, you skipped back over to your team, seeing it was Akaashi who was herding you back to the group. 

It was only when you got in the elevator that you realized something - Sakusa remembered your last name.

Biting your lip in confusion, you thought to the last time you talked to either boy. You only gave your name to Komori during that first initial practice match - maybe Sakusa overhead and just had a good memory? Whatever the case may be, it was not the time to be looking into things. You shook your head, focusing on the present as you turned back to whatever Bokuto was talking about.

The coaches gave you time to organize yourselves before warming up in the nearby gym. With three managers for your team, it was agreed beforehand that you would fight on equal ground for the beds. Whoever won would get the bed to themselves while the other two would share. And yesterday, Kaori claimed herself the victor and you were sharing with Yukie.

Plopping your stuff down, you all got down to business as you organized the room quickly, heading out for auxiliary practice, and then herding the group at dinner.

After dinner, you were still bursting with energy. Excitement, anticipation - all of that was coursing through your veins for the events tomorrow. It seemed that the other managers were facing something similar, since neither had taken a bath yet and gotten ready for bed. Instead, Yukie was still in her outdoor clothes while Kaori was on her phone, scrolling through her social media feed.

Yukie turned to you with a mischievous smile, her brown eyes reflecting nothing but trouble when she finally asked, “So, seen any cute boys yet?”

You sputtered at the randomness of the question, “What?”

Kaori laughed, but then admitted. “Well, we are in the area with some of the best volleyball players in high school. Can’t deny some of them are handsome.”

You could not help the giggle in response, as Yukie added. “Hmm, you right. Some of them are looking so gooood.”

“Oh my god.” There were no words you had prepared for this moment.

Yukie looked at you before incling her head, “Come on, even Bokuto is looking mighty fine when he’s in the zone.”

“I -- “ You stuttered, was she looking for a response? 

“Don’t you think Bokuto has such a fine ass?” Yukie asked, “Like damn boy you looking thicc!”

Uhhhhh.

“Lay off.” Kaori came to your defense, or so you thought. “She’s more into the Akaashi-type, right?”

“Strong, but silent?” Yukie asked, “Quiet, but could easily snap your neck with his thighs?”

You blanched at the idea of your reserved friend doing any of the sort.

“No way! He’s just a friend.” You countered immediately.

“Hmmm, sure.” Yukie responded, “When Kuroo shuts his mouth, it makes me want to put it somewhere else.”

“Bruh.” You voiced as you laughed, slapping your reddening cheeks. 

Was this something they usually talked about during nationals? The conversation seemed so natural to the both of them - neither blushing or phased at talking about the other attractive men within your prefecture. Just thinking about any of them in a romantic light had you blushing, how on earth could they talk about this so naturally?

“True, but have you seen Sakusa?” Kaori countered, the conversation carrying on.

“Sakusa would be hotter if he allowed anyone within ten feet of him.” Yukie waved off before turning to you with a wink. “Well, I saw you talking to him today.”

You thought back to the interaction with a grimace, “More like a hello before he shut-down the conversation.”

“Think he’s cute?” Kaori asked, this time.

You thought back to him during the practice match, strong and confident when on the court and mask hidden away. But then again, you thought back to all your actual interactions, and grimaced.

You answered candidly, “I mean, I’m not blind. He’s attractive, but I barely know him.”

Yukie giggled, “I’m not saying you have to marry him!”

Kaori giggled and you felt your cheeks flame-up. You felt your embarrassment creep up your throat and blurted out, “Okay, he’s hella attractive and when he spikes it sets me on fire! Like ok - can he smack my ass like a drum??”

Yukie slapped you on the shoulder in jest as Kaori’s laughter got louder. Yukie replied, “Damn girl - I didn’t know you were into that sort of stuff.”

You were redder than Nekoma’s colors at this point, embarrassment at an all time high at having admitted something that even you were not aware of. Kaori and Yukie were so easy to talk to, so funny to be around, they really took away your one brain-cell sometimes.

“But I totally agree - when he snaps his wrist against the ball… well.” She ended the sentence with raised brows, both of you catching onto her mischievous face.

Kaori giggled and you could not help but laugh aloud at this point - you loved the other managers so much, they made wild conversations like this so easy. 

You started braiding your hair, conversation shifting to the boys in class at Fukurōdani. And while you admitted it was rather small-minded of you to say, you honestly could not remember a lot of the other student body outside of the volleyball club. You spent almost every free minute of your time on the club - many of the faces outside your class blurring to the side as your priorities lay elsewhere.

Just as you finished your hair, a small sound broke out in the room, Yukie picking up her phone as it vibrated against the bed. The brunette took one look at the caller ID, got up and winked at the two of you, before leaving the hotel room entirely. You turned to Kaori with a curious look, who simply shrugged and said it was probably some cute boy she was talking to.

You accepted it casually, before getting up yourself and putting on your outdoor shoes. You still had all this pent-up, enthused energy - maybe a run would do you good to calm your mind. Voicing this to the other manager, she agreed before laying back down on her bed.

The lobby areas were still littered with other volleyball club members in their casual clothes, some from other schools and some from your own. Some of the third-years were mingling, undoubtedly high-energy for this being one of the last few tournaments they would be participating in.

Putting headphones in, you started your run toward areas you personally knew and were relatively populated at this time of night. Certain areas of Tokyo were always bustling, and so you stuck to roads nearby the main one. Your mind, which was reeling only a few minutes before, was surprising blank during your run. Your focus was on the path ahead of you and the music surrounding you - it felt that simple somehow.

No team entered tournaments to lose - that was obvious. Everyone on this level of the competition had a hug leg over the average team - geniuses, prodigies, top spikers in the entire nation - they were all gathering here for the next few days.

Your team were the protagonists of the world - that was what you repeated in your head like a mantra for the past few days.

Fukurōdani were going to do more than just compete in nationals - they were going to win, you were confident.

“Pour all your soul into each ball.” You repeated, remembering the official banner for your powerhouse of a school.

The confidence in your team was overflowing, any lingering nerves flowing away as you continued on your focused run. And so when a crack of thunder was louder than your music - you reeled back in surprise and turned your attention upward at the sky.

Groaning, you ran over to the side of a building to huddle under a pagoda awning, other people doing the same as you and crowding the area. The weather quickly upturned from a calm night to a sudden downpour. There was nothing about rain in the forecast and this afternoon the sky was a pretty blue - had you just not noticed before?

Cursing your lack of foresight, you took out your headphones and stored them in the fanny pack across your chest. Recognizing the shops around this area, you were only ten minutes from the hotel by run. But, dodging the rain and ducking under pagoda’s would probably make it about a half hour. You considered briefly waiting out the rain, but also did not want to get stuck out late in the case that it did not let-up soon. 

Already decided, you were planning out your trek back to the hotel when you scanned everyone else around you. Turning to the other people taking refuge, you could not help the surprise on your face at seeming a familiar person huddled all the way in the back corner.

Sakusa, in all his might, was emanating serious waves of discomfort only a few feet away from you.

What were the odds of this happening? Was this some sort of karmic energy from the universe, due to the conversation you had earlier?

You walked over the spiker, waving a hello and receiving a nod in greeting.

“Looks like we had the same idea, Sakusa-san.” You started, receiving nothing from the conversation but a blank stare.

Boy was he hard to talk to.

Not to be deterred, you continued. “I know the area pretty well. Feel free to come with me, so you’re not waiting out the rain too late?”

Sakusa nodded again silently, and when you turned your head in confusion on instinct, he voiced himself this time. “Thanks.”

You felt a smile crawl up your face as you turned, dodging between some of the street shops’ canopies and awnings in your quick pace. He followed you closely, not wanting to get any of the accursed rain on his bodice, you guessed. Still, it was hard to keep track of someone right behind you. 

This situation was altogether so strange - who would have thought that this would be the way you would be ending your day??

Not used to the silence - after all, your usual company was always bouncing with energy - you joked as you turned to him, “I guess this is where I should insert some proclamation of rivalry here?”

The only thing that signified he heard you was by the quirk of a smirk at the corner of his lip - was that amusement?? you wondered.

Stopping at the corner of the street, you had to run the crosswalk and make your way to the cafe’s awning across the way. You voiced this as you both waited for the stoplight to switch over.

“Are you nervous for tomorrow?” You questioned, filling in the dead air.

“No.”

“Ah, what was I thinking - a nationally ranked spiker like you…” You drew out sheepishly.

“No, as in my team does not play until the day after.” Sakusa explained, making you groan. You forgot - Itachiyama was seeded after all. 

“Oh, my bad.” You stated, losing all your earlier confidence to try to speak to him. 

Whatever expression was on your face must have made him feel bad, you assumed, since Sakusa turned to you and continued. “But I am looking forward to fighting Wakatoshi-kun.”

The inward book in your mind flipped open, recognizing the name and attempting to find the correct team it was associated with. “Ah, that nationally ranked spiker from Shiratorizawa Academy.”

“Yes, he is… a good benchmark to play against.” Sakusa explained, making you nod in agreement. “But our priority will be watching Fukurōdani’s match tomorrow morning.”

“Oh?”

“You took a set from us during the Representative Playoffs. We won’t let it happen again.”

You smiled at his words - just Itachiyama and Sakusa himself as a whole felt like a goal. The team was the only one ranked above yours in the prefecture. It was your goal to beat his team and him especially. Maybe it was the fact that Bokuto and him were competing on ranking that made it that much more intimate, but it was easy to look at Sakusa as a target more than just who he was: a human.

And so hearing his small admission that Fukurōdani was a strong rival, after dominating your school for so long, you could not help but smile at his candor.

“We’re there to win nationals.”

He raised a brow at your words, and while you wondered if you had overstepped your boundaries for a second, a smirk grew on Sakusa's face as he simply responded. “Ah.”

You watched the countdown timer to the other side of the street, signifying it was soon time for the both of you to break out in a spring to the other side. Both of you readied yourselves just as a car squealed past the corner, trying to beat the clock and make it before it turned red. 

It all happened so quickly, eyes darting around the area to see if there was anything you could duck behind. Chairs and tables, the usually bustling Tokyo was already wrapped up in plastic and stowed away. There was no getting away from the large splash of water on the both of you - drenching you and Sakusa instantly.

The groan from the spiker was loud above the city bustle, and if not for your mutual distress, it would have made you laugh in amusement. Sakusa was inspecting his clothes, obvious disdain and surprise on his visage. Figuring it was whatever at this point, you grabbed his upturned palm and led him to a cafe area nearby. It was closed at this point, but there was a wide awning area that would be empty by now.

You led him to one of the empty garden chairs and sat him down, uncaring if he was annoyed at you pushing him around. It was your team mom instincts kicking in at this point.

Reaching into your fanny pack, you took out some of the emergency wipes and offered the pack to him. He took it readily, taking out a few and going at his hands immediately. With your on-hand handkerchief, you patted him down at the shoulders, not noticing how close the two of you were at this point.

Sakusa said nothing to your actions, not even when you moved from his shoulders to the exposed skin of his neck, wiping off the dirty street water. The initial mother adrenaline was quickly wearing off as you stood over him, surprised that he was letting you do this after all. The rosy tinge on your cheeks was growing with every second of that lingering thought.

“Nervous?” Sakusa called you out, making you stiffen up your posture. Thankfully, he did not push the subject and instead said, “I don’t understand you. Your team hates me. Shouldn’t you just be letting me get sick?

“I wouldn’t do that, especially not even to you.” You waved off the thought, smiling as you did so. “We’re going to beat you with our own skill.”

He looked up at you from his spot, initially saying nothing to your words as you moved to take out another wet-wipe from the pack. Sakusa stopped your action, putting a hand over yours and starting, “You should be using some for yourself.”

You lightly pushed it aside, not unkindly. “It’s fine; I don’t care much. Besides, this matters more to you.”

He said nothing, letting go of your wrist, but not moving away out of your range. You took that as Sakusa’s silent acceptance, moving the wipe back to his neck area and even patting him down on the cheek. His eyes never left yours, making you wonder what could possibly be going on in that head of his.

The moment was so strangely intimate, you were silently proud of your usually easy-to-tease demeanor staying calm. Once you were done, you debated taking the seat next to him when he finally looked away. Taking a look at the world around you, the sudden downpour had actually let-up to a slight drizzle. 

You voiced your observation, recommending that you make your way back to the hotel before it possibly got worse. He nodded silently in agreement, breaking out into a light sprint toward your destination side-by-side.

By the time you arrived it was already late night, most of the lobby thankfully empty. You were not sure what you would say if Bokuto saw you walk in with his rival completely drenched. The squelch of your sneakers was obvious against the granite floor, making you wince at how others probably saw the two of you right now.

Sakusa bid you farewell with a small word and wave, heading toward an elevator at the other end of the hall. You did the same, before feeling the niggling feeling that someone had their eyes on you. Heading to the elevators, you turned to your peripheral and saw Yukie, sitting at one of the lobby tables with some random guy across from her.

Her face was alight with obvious mischief, her smirk alone was enough sign that she was going to be questioning you about this situation immediately. You winced at her expression, turning toward the elevator doors and waiting for the ding! to signify you were free from her eyes.

A thorough bath later, you were surprised the next day to see that Yukie had not questioned you at all. Instead, all energy was focused on nationals and the upcoming teams you were going to have to play against. 

Fukurōdani Academy was a powerhouse in itself and hearing the loud cheers surrounding your side of the court was enough to lift the entire team's spirits. Your audience section was fit to the nine’s - including a marching band, a specific fan cheering area, and even cheerleaders.  The team played through their games proudly, passion radiating from the team as you made it to the quarter-final on the third day.

You never got to play Itachiyama.

The third-years were retiring.

The silence on the bus was mentally jarring - no one expected your nationals journey to end this soon. Even Yukie, who was always quick on her feet when it came to comforting the other members, was eerily silent the way back to the hotel.

The only person who was still remarkably confident, was signified by the strong words Bokuto uttered when they first left the court.

“Nothing here was a mistake.” Bokuto started, mind in his thoughts as his back faced the team. You were in the middle of handing a spare hand-towel toward Haruki when you turned to the ace. “Your tosses were incredible under the pressure.”

The entirety of the team turned to the usual mood maker, one who was so easily swayed on the court over simple things, now voicing his introspective words.

Bokuto turned to the rest of you, “We will come back here next year and carve the rest of the way.”

Akaashi nodded from beside you, other second-years agreeing with their newly determined ace. The third-year captain, now sporting an anguished smile, walked over to Bokuto to place a hand on his shoulder. The other older members followed suit, proud of their young owl growing up right before their eyes.

After the game, you split up at the hotel to return to your rooms and shower. Getting ready for the night ahead of you, the third-years stated that they were going to take the team out for dinner after the strong season.

Yukie hopped in the shower first as Kaori and you packed up some of your room. The team was still going to stay at the hotel until the end of the tournament, but your long notebooks and team journals were of no use now. Combination attacks and details on the third-years were now a thing of the past. 

You had to fight the sob in your throat when you closed the folder on your captain one last time.

The silent hotel room, which was filled with giggles and teasing only hours before, was palpable against you and Kaori’s attempts to stay calm. She was affected moreso than you, having spent the last two years with the current team.

You were so occupied in your thoughts, you almost missed the silent vibration in your pocket, a notification dinging from your social media platform on Instabook.

Hey. Are you back in the hotel?

What was Sakusa doing, messaging you now of all times? 

Waving the thought away, you typed: Yeah. What’s up?

I have something for you - where are you?

The tendril of suspicion shot through you, but Sakusa was definitely not the type to kick you while you were down. You messaged him back your room details, earning back a simple ok omw and nothing else to signify just why he was coming here.

Yukie was still in the shower when you stepped out. Sakusa really was before you, in all his silent glory. Sporting his usual face mask, he took something out of his pocket and thrust it toward you.

“It’s only fair, (L/N)-san.” Sakusa stated, a familiar pack of wet-wipes in his hand outstretched toward you. 

You felt your smile grow, your earlier saddened disposition breaking at the strange sight. “That’s really not necessary.”

“Just take it.” Sakusa said as he grabbed your sleeve and placed it in your empty hand. 

“Well, okay.” You said with a slight chuckle in your voice.

“I meant to give it to you at the complex, but..”

“Yeah.” You finished for him, the conversation coming to a silence. “Thank you, Sakusa-san.”

He looked at you with an unwavering gaze, “Sakusa is just fine.”

“Then just (L/N) is fine too.” You added, finally feeling that you were coming to terms to some sort of odd friendship with the spiker. Holding up your phone, you motioned to it without voicing your question. “So we don’t have to rely on random appearances?”

“Ah.” He agreed, taking out his phone as you exchanged chat-ID’s.

That was the end of the conversation, him waving goodbye once it was over and walking down the hall to the stairwell. A part of you watched him go, almost smiling when you realized that of course the athlete would opt for the stairs when you were on the tenth floor.

You tried to silently enter back into the room, Kaori in the shower this time as Yukie was packing up her things. Leaning your back against the door, you tried to placate your undoubtedly rosy blush - you did not need a mirror to know that you were adorned with one now.

“Look at you - you think you’re slick?” The smirk on her face was enough warning that you were in danger, “I saw you two from the peephole.”

“He was just dropping off a gift.” You state, as if that would sate her curiosity at all. Instead, she stood up at attention.

She had one eye narrowed at you, “Right, of course. What else was I thinking - other than the totally normal gift-giving for two platonic members of rival volleyball teams.”

“Yup.” You nodded with a reserved smile, before making your way further into the room.

Yukie pushed the conversation as she got on the bed, “Are you secretly dating Sakusa?”

You flushed immediately, “It’s not like that!”

“And what is it like?”

“We’re just… friends?” You bit out, the lack of confidence even obvious to your own ears. Was that a question or a statement?

The relationship you had with the young man was strange. Were you friends? It was more like mutual acquaintances who happened to have a totally-but-also-not intimate moment. You could never really tell what he was thinking - being of very few words. 

“And suddenly you’ve convinced me.” Yukie teased, before going silent as Kaori entered the room. You took this as your escape, readying your stuff quickly and entering the shower area before she could continue.

Thankfully, Yukie dropped the subject while you were around others. Your previous, almost giddy expression, came back to a silently gloomy one as you went for your last dinner with the Fukurōdani third-years.

Any previously unshed tears slammed to the forefront when seated around your peers. Even while sad and crying, your team was loud and scorching down food in the small ramen bar. The third-years thanked you all for your efforts, for the growth you had since the start of the school year, and sent you off for the new year.

April swung around quicker than you would like. You were a newly minted second-year, priorities quickly changing almost as quickly. The questions from guidance counselors and coaches were unending: asking you about your future, what you wanted to do, what electives classes were you going to take. It was all preparation before your final year - it was almost mentally jarring against the happy and almost innocent vibe from your initial year of a high school.

Sakusa’s phone number untouched since the day outside your hotel room. 

Bokuto rising to the role of captain in his third-year was no question. But seeing Akaashi, now a second-year Vice-captain, it set all your “uwu’s on fire,” as Yukie dubbed it. He earned the role, without a doubt, but seeing the two together was so strangely heart-warming.

Bokuto and Akaashi were a strange pair, but they got along together so well, it was hard to imagine anyone else on your team with these roles. Akaashi mother hen’ed you all, but there were times that it seemed the young setter could almost read Bokuto’s mind. 

They were a perfect match, you often teased. 

Akaashi would often stare at you blankly when you reiterated this, but Bokuto would only fuel the fire. The duo were almost always in immediate distance to one another, oftentimes your captain would swing his arm across Akaashi’s shoulders or just initiate some time of close distance. After all, they were roommates now in the dorms, that was not just because they were captain and vice, you had a feeling.

It made you wonder what else was there beyond the surface.

But, you still had your own job to do as manager. By the end of the year, Fukurōdani would be losing two of its precious managers. And so, here you were, on the hunt for a first-year to take on the role and get used to the responsibilities of being manager to a powerhouse school.

Your team was focused on finding their rhythm, endless individual practices to get the first-years up to speed with the Fukurōdani standard. The regular line-up was still mostly comprised of third and second years, but first-year Wataru Onaga showed lots of promise. Standing at 191 centimetres, he earned his way to starting middle blocker on the team.

On occasion, you would be found in the library with other members of the volleyball team, studying for classes and researching upcoming teams in the preliminary matches.

You noticed how Sakusa earned himself a formal ranking among the top three aces of the country - Itachiyama now a heavy favorite to win in nationals. He was growing in regard very quickly, attention on him was a far cry from the initial rumors surrounding his first-year. Now he was on the cover of Volleyball monthly, pages dedicated to an expose of his career.

Would he even remember you?

Thoughts of the spiker were pushed away again with the onslaught of practice matches with other schools within the Fukurōdani Academy Group. Captain Kuroo was no better than regular Kuroo when it came to being the instigator. If anything, it seemed like the cat hung around your group of friends even more now.

He was often seen at group hangouts, whether just going to the mall or the local arcade. It was interesting, to say the least, the combination of your loud owl and the conniving cat, their two silent wards in tow.

You had a practice match with Itachiyama around the corner. And while you told yourself that you were not disappointed in your waning friendship(?) with Sakusa, you could not help the lightened feeling in your heart when he took the time to greet you before the match. Komori waved at you as well, before stretching and getting ready.

You watched the sets with careful eyes, Yukie taking notes alongside you. Almost everything was documented - how many times Bokuto was blocked, how many successful jump serves, service aces - and this was for both sides of the court. You could not help the way your eyes were drawn to Sakusa, his flexible wrist combined with his power making a combination the bane of your middle blockers.

Yukie caught you a few times, saying nothing but wagging her eyebrows at you in a wavy motion.

Losing three to two sets, you sighed and moved to help clean-up the gymnasium. Wheeling the scoreboard to the storage room with Yukie, all volleyball members were moving about the gym to make sure it was properly organized. You stepped out to check the hammock cart holding the volleyballs, counting them to ensure that none of them belonged to the rival school. 

Should you say something more to Sakusa?

You paused, looking up from the volleyballs and frowning at yourself.

Wait… Why did it even matter? Why did you even want to talk to him? Yes, you were on friendly terms with the ace. But why did you seek him out so much? You were friends with Kuroo, so did not feel the same draw to the middle blocker as you did now? 

Why was your mind so intent on just something with the ace?

Mind reeling with these questions, it was to your surprise when he approached you.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” You replied in a much smaller voice, attempting to put a smile back on your face, as if you needed to hide your earlier train of thought.

“Are you available this weekend?”

“Uh, wait what?” You could not help the incredulous words coming out of your mouth. 

Seriously what??? How do you go from weeks of not talking to this??

Yukie was a few paces away from you, opting to walk away from your conversation to give some privacy, after all the two of you were standing in a gymnasium filled with two bustling volleyball teams. But she undoubtedly heard that last question since her head whipped around back in your direction.

Seeing that Sakusa was actually waiting for a response, you thought back to your plans with Bokuto, Akaashi, and Kenma group to play the usual Mario Kart at the latter’s house.

“No, I’m free.” You responded.

Yukie laughed, before walking away entirely, as to not give away her eavesdropping.

“Ok. I’ll text you the details for this weekend.”

Not able to hide your surprise, you let out a sound of uncertainty as you raised your palms. “Wait, for what?”

“Hang-out.” Sakusa stated, as if it was such a natural event. “Komori suggested inviting you so I did.”

You dropped your hands, letting them fall to the sides and letting out a small, “Huh.”

He waved you off, saying he was going to text you the details tomorrow, before joining back with his team. Yukie’s face was indescribable and Haruki sported a similar expression only a few paces away.

Their questioning gazes were only pocketed for later, passed the time the coaches had given pointers and tips to members of the team. Eventually, when the other school had all packed up and left, the third-years were quick to bombard you with questions.

“HAAAA! (L/N), how could you hide this from us?!” 

“You two have been close, this whole time?���

“Not dating, my ass.” Yukie teased as she crossed her arms.

Akaashi placed a hand on your shoulder, his calm voice cutting above the rest. “What was that?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” You answered candidly.

Bokuto and Haruki turned their heads in confusion while Yukie looked at you with a face asking you, really?

“Yeah, we haven’t actually spoken to each other since nationals.”

“Wait, really? That long ago?” Yukie asked this time, genuinely surprised.

“Yeah. That invite really feels… out of nowhere.” You explained, your own confusion evident on your visage and reflecting back on the other volleyball team members.

“Eh, it’s probably nothing.” Bokuto shrugged as he walked away, “We hangout with other schools all the time.”

Yukie held a flat-expression toward the ace’s retreating back, Haruki following behind him with a shrugging expression. Akaashi and the brunette manager turned back to you, the female grabbing your hand as she did.

“Okay, really?” 

Akaashi sighed, grabbing your attention. “Text me if you’re uncomfortable.”

“Wow, look at you Mr. Chivalrous.” Yukie commented, making Akaashi roll his eyes before turning to you seriously. You nodded in affirmation, to which he accepted and walked away.

You waved goodbye to the other members as they closed up the gymnasium, walking with the other managers back to the female dorms. 

Yukie was not letting it go at all, repeating her question from earlier. “Okay, really?”

You smiled this time, voice mocking as you responded. “Yeah, really.”

“What happened?” Kaori asked.

“Sakusa-san asked her out on a date.” Yukie spun the tale.

“It’s not a date.” You cut in.

“Oh yeah, then why are you smiling so giddy?” Yukie asked with wide, accusatory eyes.

“Because it’s… Shut up.” You stated between nervous laughter, “He asked me to hangout with a group - it includes their libero Komori-san.”

“Maybe he likes you.” Kaori commented, to which Yukie agreed vigorously.

“Do not put these assumptions in my head.” You stated with a loud sigh, head angled toward the sky at their words.

Yukie sighed back, “Don’t deny the possibility.”

You shrugged it off, knowing that there was no ending to their teasing at this point. You repeated the truth in your head like a mantra: he was nothing more than a friend. It was not worth looking into every single interaction you had with the young man - after all, he was rather strange when it came to social interactions to begin with. 

Ironically, you had to think that the others did not know him like you did. He was straight-up with his words, not fully understanding the meaning of it or how it affected others. If Sakusa wanted to do something or felt something, he would lay it out straight - that’s just the type of person he was.

And you would not be looking into the words between the lines.

But it was increasingly hard to do this when both Yukie and Kaori invaded your room Saturday morning, stating that your usual plain clothes would just not do for a day like this. Two hours later, your hair was in beachy waves and your planned “plain” outfit was replaced with a casual, knee-length springy dress over a white shirt.

What if this really was nothing but a casual encounter for him? Would your outfit be more forward then you intended?

Any of your self-conscious questions were too late, since before you knew it you were already on a train to the destination by Kichijoji. You had a few more stops to your destination, the packed train-car as busy as ever. Distracting yourself from those previous thoughts, you whipped out your phone to check the messages that had been pouring in since early morning.

GC: Hoot Hoot ⊹⋛⋋(◐⊝◑)⋌⋚⊹

11:11 Kaori _へ__(‾◡◝ )>           Look at how cute (F/N)-chan looks           Attached: cutie.jpg

11:11 yukie-yukie (｡♥‿♥｡)          She should dress like this every day!! (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑

11:11 haaaruki !           WOAH :O 11:11 BROkuto ᕙ( * •̀ ᗜ •́ * )ᕗ           Hey hey hey 

11:11 BROkuto ᕙ( * •̀ ᗜ •́ * )ᕗ           look at you ;)

11:12 ahKASHi (๑ᵕ⌓ᵕ̤)           That would seem difficult considering (F/N)-san’s sleep schedule and the amount of time it takes for her to get ready. 11:13 Konoha(gakure) (•́ᴗ•́๑)           damn girl u look so pretty!!

11:13 BROkuto ᕙ( * •̀ ᗜ •́ * )ᕗ           I still can’t believe she abandoned us for saks >:(

11:13 Kaori _へ__(‾◡◝ )>           you can’t stop her from dating dad

11:13 yukie-yukie (｡♥‿♥｡)           well you know what they say bro’s before hoes

11:13 BROkuto ᕙ( * •̀ ᗜ •́ * )ᕗ           eye-

11:13 ahKASHi (๑ᵕ⌓ᵕ̤)           But otherwise, (F/N) looks beautiful today.

11:13 BROkuto ᕙ( * •̀ ᗜ •́ * )ᕗ           >>:C

You skipped to the end, scrolling through at least a few dozen more messages that ranged the topic from the picture of you getting ready to the supposed Mario Kart tournament that you were now missing out on. Typing in your response:

12:35 mother-hen^2 (ﾟ⊿ﾟ)           Sorry boys, had to look cute for today only ;)

12:35 yukie-yukie (｡♥‿♥｡)           IT’S A DATE!!! I KNEW IT!

12:35 Konoha(gakure) (•́ᴗ•́๑)           BO YOU OWE US YAKISOBA BREAD

12:35 BROkuto ᕙ( * •̀ ᗜ •́ * )ᕗ           ITS A DATE??

12:35 haaaruki !!           be safe mom!!

12:36 mother-hen^2 (ﾟ⊿ﾟ)           it’s NOT a date  (・-・)

12:36 BROkuto ᕙ( * •̀ ᗜ •́ * )ᕗ           HA

12:36 Konoha(gakure) (•́ᴗ•́๑)           bruh 

12:36 yukie-yukie (｡♥‿♥｡)           JUST YOU WAIT

12:36 ahKASHi (๑ᵕ⌓ᵕ̤)           Text me the moment you need an out.

You rolled your eyes as you pocketed your phone into your side-bag, leaning into the halting train as it crawled to a stop on the Keiou Inokashira Line. Walking out and looking for any telltale signs of your friend, you scanned the train station with wandering eyes as you walked out.

But, it was not necessary, since Komori’s light brown hair was an easy pick in the crowd. However, next to him was a volleyball player that you could easily pick from the bustling station. While Japanese men were generally around 170 centimetres, seeing Sakusa’s curly mop of hair high above the crowd was enough for you to follow.

It seemed they saw you immediately as well, Komori waving at you to come over while Sakusa merely kept his eyes trained on you. With them were a handful of other members of the Itachiyama volleyball club, from the players to their female manager, you recognized them from practice matches.

They invited you into the group of teenagers quickly, as if nothing was strange at all, waving at you with smiles before shooting looks at both Komori and Sakusa. 

What the hell was happening?

You had a feeling in the back of your mind that something was happening around you, that they all knew something that you did not know.

You walked along with the group into the popular neighborhood of Kichijoji - the group traveling from food stand to souvenir stand. Their female manager was so friendly, unlike how seriously quiet she was when visiting. She even asked to touch your hair at one point, saying it looked so bouncy and pretty today.

“The tracksuits don’t do any of us justice.” She complained, “But you look so nice today, (L/N)-san!”

You smiled at her words, “Thanks. We had an off-day today too. So I figured why not.”

“Well, it looks great. Don’t you think so too, Kiyoomi?”

The sudden question had you reeling back in surprise, turning to the black-haired teen. Why was he suddenly being brought into this? What were they trying to do?

But the thousands of questions in your brain came to a halt when Sakusa turned to you and simply said. “You look nice.”

“Thanks.” You replied, more out of reflex than truly getting his words. So in your head, you failed to notice the teasing smile she shot her ace, before turning away back to the rest of the group.

They gathered around the menu of a popular crepe stand, you left standing there in surprise as the group continued on without you. Sakusa stayed beside you, before taking a step and inclined his head toward the rest.

Shaking your head away from the niggling feeling in the back of your mind, you lightly jogged to catch up with the rest, finding a pace between Sakusa and Komori. 

The brunette turned to during your walk, “You’re probably really surprised to be here.”

“Yeah…”

Komori chuckled, a hand on his neck as he lightly muttered beneath his breath. “Honestly, I’m surprised he did it.”

“Did what?” You asked with a raised brow.

“Nothing important.” He waved off, “I’m just glad you were able to join our group today.”

Deciding not to push it, you instead said. “Well, thanks for the invite.”

The group’s conversation ranged from the food stalls, to your long awaited destination at the billiards club. The building had, true to its name, billiards tables and other vintage arcade machines. 

You were unsure where to place yourself within this group, obvious inside jokes that you would not understand between some of the other members. Thankfully, Komori and their female manager were very quick to try to get you to weigh in on the conversation.

“Well, I think Shrek is funnier in Japanese.” She stated it clear as day, as if a fact. You had to stop yourself from chuckling, one hand on the pool cue since it was your turn to go.

“But it’s not funnier than Cars.” Another countered.

“Have you heard Mater in the original movie?” You replied after hitting the ball, watching it not follow the path you had intended to hit it in at all. “That’s the one English dub I’ll accept.”

She smiled before arguing, “As if a cowboy accent is funnier than Shrek with a Jojo’s voice?”

You attempted to dead-pan your face, Sakusa stepping up to the billiards table after you. “We’re Japanese. We all have Jojo’s voice.”

“Alright Pikachu, calm down.”

You held a mock-offended hand to your chest, not able to hide the laughter at her jest. Despite being a beginner at billiards, and getting absolutely wrecked by everyone else playing, you were having fun with the random group.

This was not just the Itachiyama volleyball club - a fan favorite to win nationals.

These were high school teenagers, enjoying their free day off.

It was like a wide-awakening of your perspective. After all, you went to a powerhouse school yourself. When people saw Bokuto, saw Fukurōdani as a whole - how many times were people intimidated at Prelims just because of your team’s reputation? Taking Itachiyama off its pedestal was the same and it was hard to remind yourself of this fact.

But finally putting names to faces, personalities to people, you let it sink in that they were not that unlike you and your team.

After billiards, you continued with the group to a hot-pot restaurant a few blocks away. Komori hung especially around you, you noted inwardly. Was it to keep you from feeling left out of the group? But why were you even with this group to begin with?

Wait.

Didn’t Komori call you cute during your first encounter?

You felt something inside you inwardly swell and then sag. Were you here because Komori wanted you to be here? Even though your direct invitation came from Sakusa, the ace reasoned that it was at Komori’s suggestion. Were you invited here to get closer to the libero?

Despite being surrounded by the loud vbc members, their eagerness to eat bustling in both action and conversation, you felt yourself sag at the realization.

They were trying to get you closer to Komori?

You inwardly slapped yourself on the head for being so closed-minded. Not that he was a bad guy - he was the best libero in the entire country after all. Volleyball skills aside, Komori was trying his best to make you comfortable in the group. He was naturally outgoing, friendly, and had been the reason behind your invite in the first place.

But another part of your mind, the part that you had been trying to close off for so long, could not help but glance over to Sakusa and hoped that he had been the reason.

The silent ace caught your gaze, making you turn away immediately and flush at being caught.

It was… disappointing.

But you failed to notice how Sakusa kept his gaze on you, the female manager watching this interaction entirely with amused eyes.

You were still trapped in your thoughts. You had gotten your hopes up after all, despite saying to all the other members that it truly was not that way between the two of you.

And now it was fully true.

Entering the restaurant, the female manager, having the foresight to call ahead to reserve for your large group, you deliberated where you wanted to sit at the table. You went to take a seat next to the manager, to which she motioned to Komori in a none-too-subtle way, to instead take the seat before you could finish your question.

That left a single seat left on this side - the corner one that was only next to Komori.

Of course they were trying to set you up with him, why else did you think otherwise?? You almost slapped yourself on the head for how tunnel-minded you were before this.

You took the seat, shooting a smile toward Komori that did not quite reach your eyes. But, to your surprise, the brunette muttered a small excuse of having to go to the bathroom or something, you could not catch it exactly since it was so quick. And instead, the ace that had been plaguing your thoughts for the last few minutes, had plopped down into the spot.

You snapped your head forward, grabbing at the menu and stating that it all looked good. The female manager smiled at you, more like smirked, before joining in the conversation of what she wanted to order.

As per your team mom instinct™, you took out your hand sanitizer and offered it to the other table members. 

“Thank you, (L/N)-chan!” She replied, taking the small container and using some. You offered it to the rest and let it pass around. “You even beat Sakusa offering it to us.”

Komori took the seat across from you when he returned, adding to the conversation quickly. “That’s (L/N)-chan’s?”

“Yeah. Otherwise, it would’ve been paired with a lecture from our dear ace here.” The female added. “It’s almost like you complete each other.”

Wait, what?

You smiled awkwardly, eyes landing on the silent Sakusa who had yet to say anything.

“Ah. I have the same brand.” He said when the bottle made its way back.

Okay, not what you were expecting at all. You took it from his hands, a small grin still on your face, using it before storing it away.

A few minutes in and it was clear that members of the table were breaking out into their smaller conversations. To your left was a wall and so that left the silent Sakusa or Komori across from you, who was trying hard to converse with only the person next to him.

“I saw the article about you in volleyball monthly.” You started. “Congrats on officially being one of the top spikers in the country.”

Sakusa turned to you when you first spoke, replying. “Thanks, but it’s brought a lot of annoying attention.”

He was actually talking to you? Stop. He’s human too.

“I could imagine - scouts, fangirls - it’s never ending.” You responded. “A lot of girls like to hang around and watch practice matches for Bokuto, I’d assume it’s the same.”

“It’s annoying.” He stated curtly, “They’re dirtying up the gym with their outdoor shoes every time.”

Of all things… you thought inwardly with an amused grin.

“Being so popular now, there’s probably tons of people who approach you based solely on reputation. I hope you don’t think that of me.” You stated.

“I don’t.” He said back just as quickly.

You smiled, before continuing the conversation. “Even if their energy is misplaced, I can’t help but agree that you’ve accumulated a lot of earned attention.”

“Oh?”

“Well, yeah.” Your smile widened unconsciously, “I mean, you’re more than just the title. You were a good spiker before any labels told anyone that.”

Sakusa looked at you, in what looked like a flat expression. 

What you did not know was how thoroughly he was scanning your face, just to gauge how genuine your words were. You went to rival schools? Other schools in the prefecture were so quick to antagonize him and his team. After all, Bokuto made his feelings obvious during the last practice match. And yet you were willing to just hangout, of all things, with people you hardly knew? So willing to compliment the ace with the largest target on his back??

Your actions confused a realist like him.

Why even bother to be nice to him way back then? Why try to keep in touch? Why be here today?

And even more so, why did he want to know the answer to these questions so badly?

“(L/N)-chan, what would you usually be doing on your off days?” The manager broke you out of your thoughts.

“Well, today was supposed to be a Mario Kart tournament with some of the Nekoma kids.” You thought back to your earlier plans. “As crazy as it is, we tend to just lounge around and play video games with Kuroo and Kenma.”

“Ah, that’s right. Nekoma is in the Fukurōdani Academy Group as well.” She stated, her voice lowering toward the end.

“Yeah, but we’re pretty close to Kuroo and rest beyond volleyball. I don’t know how, but our captains all get along like frat bro’s.” You reminisced to the last interaction, “But at least with all the managers together, we have five mother hen’s, six including Akaashi, to guide the group.”

She laughed, before biting her lip.

You noticed the action and questioned, “Something wrong?”

“No.” She tried to wave off, “Well. I don’t know. I’m kind of jealous.”

You let out an incredulous snort before leaning forward. “Why?”

“You get along really well with the other schools in the prefecture. Enough so that I see you guys,” she motioned to you in a circular motion, you took this to signify the Fukurōdani team as a whole, “Like everywhere on social media.”

“Oh?”

“Parties, weekends, you name it. Even Masaki-san, who is infamous for being so angry looking, posted you and the rest out swimming last summer break.” You thought back to the event, the name of the now captain of the Ubugawa High volleyball team jumping out at you.

House parties… Wasn’t that a regular high school thing to do? And while you were all responsible teenagers with a lot to lose, the team did indulge in various friendly gatherings that did include teens across multiple schools in the prefecture.

You hadn’t said anything yet, so she continued. “Meanwhile, our coach has us play against college teams since he insists it’s better practice. We don’t really play with anyone else in the prefecture other than you guys - and you hate us.”

“That’s not true.” You cut in immediately, to which she raised a brow. “Believe me. The only outspoken one would be Bokuto and none of that is beyond surface level - he’s a really nice guy and would never actually hate anyone.”

You continued, “It may just seem that way since we’re immediate rivals. But I honestly had no idea that it made you guys feel so isolated.”

“Yeah…” She admitted, her voice trailing off at the end.

“It doesn't have to stay this way. After all, you were nice enough to invite me out now.” You replied, a bright smile back on your face. “Why don’t we exchange numbers?”

She radiated a smile reflecting your own, taking out her phone and quickly inputting your digits in. “Wow, you’re so friendly.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You replied.

She held her smile for a few more seconds, before her eyes slid over to the silent ace between you two. 

“I’m so glad Sakusa wanted to invite you with us today.”

You looked toward him as well, Sakusa meeting your eyes before turning away.  “Uh, I was glad I was able to join.” 

“Yeah, well. It’s no wonder he…”

Her voice came to a halt when the ace looked straight at her, the waves of warning enough for even you to feel, without having to see his expression.

Sakusa wanted you to be here?

“He…?” You questioned, to which she smiled and shrugged, not completing her previous thought.

The rest of the dinner went without any special events - even holding light conversation with Itachiyama’s ace next to you. Conversation with Sakusa was curt, but he meant no harm. If you had to describe it, he was dense in the way of conversation, similar to Bokuto and yet for the opposite reasons. 

Bokuto was so extroverted that he got along with people so easily. But, it often led to him mistakenly leading on girls for how friendly he was. Meanwhile, on the other side of the spectrum, introverted Sakusa kept to himself because that was where he was comfortable, not because he thought others beneath him.

You felt your heart swell at having learned a little bit more about the ace.

After dinner, the nightsky reflected back at you as you went to part ways with the group. Dorms in opposite directions, you were surprised when Sakusa offered to walk with you to the train station. 

And while your heart swelled at the implications, Sakusa reasoned it was only fair since he was the one that invited you out. Now that it was late, it may not be safe for you to be out late and it would be on his head if something happened.

His manager laughed, while Komori just sighed, muttering that he was hopeless.

She bid you farewell with a tight hug, saying you should text her when you get home. The rest waved at you amicably before walking off in the opposite direction. 

Whatever the reasoning may be, there was no logical reason as to why a germaphobe like him would sit directly next to you on the train back home. Your shoulders were even touching, but neither of you voiced this fact. 

“Today was actually really fun.” You started, turning to him on your right. There were only a few other people taking this line and they were mostly crowded around the opposite end of your train-car. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“You don’t have to say thanks so many times.”

“Did I?” You asked with a sheepish smile, “I honestly didn’t notice, but I do mean it.”

“Good.” His eyes bore into your own so seriously, “Because I’m glad you did.”

Unsure what to even say, you just kept on smiling. “Thank-

“What did I say?” Despite his normally cold visage, the tilt in his voice was enough to signify to you that he was teasing you.

You inclined your head toward him, “Fine. I’m… really happy, that we’re friends.”

He looked at you fully, not saying anything and making you question if you overstepped, before Sakusa stated, “Kiyoomi.”

“What?”

“Call me Kiyoomi.”

“Oh.” You smiled, “(F/N) is fine too.”

The rest of the train ride had such a lighthearted atmosphere. The only other person you could sit in comfortable silence with was Akaashi, but even then he was so silently sassy that it was nothing like Sakusa’s energy. And yet, at that moment, you felt so comfortable in his presence.

Sakusa did as he said he would, walking you all the way to the school-gates before finally bidding you farewell.

“See you around, (F/N).”

You reiterated it back to him, only walking off when he disappeared from sight. The smile on your face stayed etched there all the way back to your dorm room - where Yukie and Kaori were eagerly waiting on your lower bunk-bed, your roommate nowhere to be seen.

“Details, (F/N)-chan!” Yukie yelled out immediately, an enthused Kaori not too far behind her. 

And you did just so for the entirety of the hangout - from the billiards club, the manager’s desire to be closer to other teams, to your conversation with Sakusa on the train. They nodded along as you explained, having brought snacks with them as well, it was clear they were waiting for a while. How they got in your dorm room - that was a question for another time.

They chuckled at you for thinking Komori was the reason and nodded in understanding about the female manager. It was only at the end when they really questioned you and Sakusa.

“So… not dating, huh?” Yukie asked with a raised brow.

“Not yet.” Kaori answered.

“Damn, that means I owe Bokuto Yakisoba bread.”

You chuckled at the girls’ words, but felt that you could no longer honestly deny their teasing. The two of you were nothing more than friends, but there was no denying that you wouldn’t mind the possibility of being more than that…

Fuck it, you liked him.

No longer doing mental somersaults in your brain, it was surprisingly easy to accept the fact that you had a crush on the Itachiyama ace.

And your relationship only seemed to grow as the school year went on. During the next practice match, you formally introduced Yukie and Kaori to the other manager. The four of you were quick buds and she was invited to your dorm room on occasion. Other members of the team greeted you warmly, Sakusa even calling you by your first name, confirming that your last conversation was not just a fever dream you had one day.

Your heart only squeezed in on itself more when you felt your lingering looks become mutual. Sakusa had always garnered your attention during practice matches. But between plays and matches, you would just be looking at him when suddenly, he would be looking at you too. 

No matter how many times it happened, Yukie always made sure to tease you when she caught you.

You would text him memes and would receive a dry lol in return. There were times that he would spin the conversation and ask if you had eaten yet. 

Was he really trying to mother hen the Fukurōdani manager? You thought with a smile.

Your small texts and conversations were tantamount to much more when it came to Sakusa. His actions meant much more than it did to the average person. He did not waste movements, nor did he waste his own time. These were more than just dry texts - Sakusa could easily not reply at all. 

You learned that he disliked oranges due to its messiness. He actually liked the colors of his school tracksuit, even though they were bright against the soft hues of the Tokyo landscape. He was not a fan of the interviews, but knew it was a small sacrifice if he wanted to go pro. He loved his team and wanted to go far with them.

These little details made you like him even more - there was so much more to him than just volleyball.

When you finally voiced your feelings to Yukie, she gave you a soft smile and a pat on the shoulder. “I have eyes, you know. We all do, actually. But I’m glad you finally caught up.”

You laughed at her words then - maybe you really were a late bloomer when it came to your feelings?

Your frequent texts became frequent calls. Those became frequent late night video chat’s and soon enough, even your coach was teasing you over your close relationship. 

“The next practice match with your boyfriend’s team is scheduled for next Friday.” They stated with a straight face to the entire volleyball team, making the third-years chuckle and Bokuto even nudge you with his elbow.

“Not saying you’re just friends anymore?” Yukie asked with a smirk one time.

You shrugged, to which Akaashi sighed before ruffling your hair.

And so, when the managers were hanging out in their hotel room at the next Interhigh National Tournament in the fall, neither Yukie nor Kaori nor the Itachiyama manager, who was chilling with you guys, batted an eyelash when Sakusa texted you to hang-out that night.

You texted back, trying to convey a teasing tone over the words. “Wouldn’t it be weird if I was having dinner with the rival team of mine at Nationals?”

His response was immediate:

Not team; just me.

You blush only increased and Yukie teased you further, “Woah, what could he possibly be sending you for you to get that red?”

“I’m willing to bet Yakisoba bread that they’ll be official before the next nationals.” The other manager stated, outstretching a hand toward Kaori and Yukie.

“Whaaaat?” The former drew out, “I’m thinking by tonight.”

“Shut up.” You stated as you blushed, putting on your outdoor shoes and a jacket.

Going down to the lobby, you scanned the room to see Akaashi and Bokuto at one of the tables. The two had such a… trusting relationship, you learned. Yes, Akaashi played the suffering card almost every day. But the setter loved to watch Bokuto play so passionately, you could see it in his eyes every time they were on the court.

Whatever was going on there, you supported it.

Turning away, you made your way over to the door where Sakusa was waiting. He looked so out of place, as per usual, hands in pockets and looking as if he wanted to be anywhere but there.

As you approached, Sakusa nodded to you in greeting and - to your eternal surprise - took your hand in his own before guiding you out the door. He had on winter gloves, so none of your germs would be touching his skin, but the action itself was so surprising. Yes, you talked and smiled and pined after him - but premarital holding hands?? Were you both ready for this??

He led the way over to a small cafe, walking in mutual silence and only releasing your hand when the host seated you across from each other. You eagerly soaked up the menu, eyes scanning the sweets while he deliberated over something.

Sakusa had yet to say anything to you, not grabbing at the menu either, which worried you in a way. What was it that was on his mind?

“Something wrong, Yoomi?” The nickname slipped off the tongue easily, having used it in your last night talks on the phone with one another.

“I want you to know my intentions in our relationship.”

You swallowed at his words, sure that he heard your nervous tick as well.

“I want to get to know you.”

The teasing smile was quick on your face, “Me too. I mean, that’s what we’ve been doing all along?”

“No.” He cut in instantly, tugging the face mask he had on down and off. “As in get to know you with the intention of being more than friends.”

“Oh?”

“You confuse me endlessly.” He admitted, “Your initial kindness made no logical sense - why extend it to your rival that you barely know? Why humanize me, get to know my team after all this time?”

“Because I wanted to be kind, even way back then.” You thought aloud your reasoning.

“I know you now. And what I see… That’s what I like about you.”

“Wait. You like me?”

Your humility was cute and such a rare trait in your shared interest; the small question made Sakusa smile inwardly. 

“Yes. And you like me too.” He responded with a smirk, to which you could not even deny.

“Well, yeah!” You laughed as you affirmed his statement.

He tilted his head at your outburst - god help him you were so cute. His smirk morphed into one of an endearing expression, before he took a breath and calmed himself.

“I do have to be honest with you.” He started, “I want to get closer to you, more than before. But my priorities right now are volleyball.”

Your bright smile fell to a neutral grin, not really from his words, since you truly did understand his situation. He was in his third-year, college scouts and grades were on the line at every turn for him. Even tomorrow, at the Fall National tournament, his performance could very well carve out the future he was working so hard for this whole time.

Your silence must have been a telling sign for Sakusa, since he started to pour out questions in a way that usually occurred when he fixated on something.

“Stop, you don’t need to explain it to me. I understand fully. There’s too much on the line right now to get distracted.” Your smile was back on your face as you reached over to grab at his hand this time, “But I want to get to know you too.”

“Good.”

The hand under your’s squeezed back lightly, before upturning the positions so yours rested in his larger one. It was a silent moment, sharing eye contact that felt so intimate, and yet similar to the one you shared at the last tournament. His smile, rarer than the times Bokuto fell silent, was small and for you alone at this moment. 

What he was asking for was not an outright relationship - nothing about this was normal, but you wouldn’t have preferred it to be.

--------

(continue; BUT SPOILER WARNING TO CHAPTER 392!! :O)

You sat in the stands on the Black Jackals side, cheering on the team of your boyfriend of three years. Adorned on your shoulders was Sakusa’s sports jacket, his last name shown proudly on your back. Next to you, Akaashi and Yukie were loudly cheering for the team’s victory.

Seeing both Bokuto and Sakusa on the same team was no longer a strange sight. And, instead,  always elicited a pang of pride surging through you every time you watched their games.

The two of you never confirmed your relationship throughout the rest of high school. And while this made many of your then teammates groan at your ambiguous relationship, especially since many kept betting Yakisoba bread to no avail, you would not have it any other way.

After a few months from your conversation in the cafe, Sakusa would kiss your cheek in goodbye, no matter who was around you. When walking around Shibuya, with either yours or his or even with Nekoma’s team around, he would hover shoulder-to-shoulder with you.

And when Itachiyama, the favored team to win Nationals as a whole, lost to Inubushi East High - you held him in your embrace the entire night in the comfort of his hotel room. He did not cry then, but his disposition was enough for you to know that he was not okay.

And when Fukurōdani made it all the way to the finals of the National Spring Interhigh, only to get eliminated, Sakusa held you close despite your loud crying the next day.

You knew how much Sakusa cherished you, that was all that mattered. And so when he kissed you for the first time, even without a label to your relationship, none of that mattered. Your feelings to each other only grew with time and what happened in the private recess of your relationship was for you two alone.

Watching the pro team win the game 3:2, with your boyfriend getting the first service ace of the game, you almost cried in joy at how far he progressed in achieving his dream. This was a far cry from his first pro-game, but seeing him on the court, surrounded by your Fukurōdani friends, brought so much nostalgic feelings to your heart.

Even as the rest of the audience cleared the stadium, you and the two others lingered. Bokuto made sure to wave at Akaashi, his significant other since the day you lost at the Spring Nationals.

You waited together until you received a text from Sakusa, then headed down toward the entrance of the changing rooms as a group. Some of the members of the Black Jackals were already waiting for you three by the time you made it through the crowd and down.

Hinata greeted you excitedly while Bokuto ran, with not a hint of hesitation, toward Akaashi. Lifting the previous setter off the ground, he placed a light butterfly kiss on his nose, careful not to hit his glasses.

“Kōtarō, please.” Akaashi attempted to chastise the volleyball player for ignoring the rest of the group and stop him from getting any deeper in his public display of affection, but the smile on his face took off the weight of his words.

“I love you.” Bokuto said, forehead to forehead with your close friend to this day, before receiving the words in kind from the previous setter.

You smiled warmly at the two - to think that they were dancing around their feelings also in high school. Having teased them a lot before, it only warmed your heart to know that they found their eternal happiness in each other.

Yukie was also smiling behind you, before Bokuto took the both of you in his arms for a long awaited hug. Your high school best-friend offered him a Yakisoba bread after, it was not a silent tradition after all the lost bets she participated in. Bokuto took it with a smile, putting the bread in his pack before encasing Akaashi’s hand in his own.

Atsumu was next to leave the changing room, shamelessly flirting with both you and Yukie the moment he laid eyes on you.

You laughed at the setter’s attempts, “Come on blondie, give it up.”

“You know, I think you’d make a great manager for our team.” He ended it with a wink.

“(F/N)-chan used to be my manager before!” Bokuto cut in, sticking his tongue out in jest at the end.

You felt strong arms wrap around your midsection from behind, Sakusa having quietly exited the changing room, before feeling his lips against the side of your head. “Sorry for making you wait. I had to wait for them to sanitize the showers again after Atsumu used it before me.”

The setter sputtered in reaction, after being implied as dirty, but was honestly used to it by now. 

Only when Bokuto inclined his head toward the exits did Sakusa let go of you. But only for a second, grabbing your hand in his own as you headed out. The group had agreed earlier about going somewhere for the victory dinner - probably the usually ramen place you haunted in Shibuya.

Facing you fully now -  Sakusa held your cheeks in his hands, the coarse skin affected by the endless hours of enduring volleyball. You leaned into the motion as he lowered his height closer to you. Familiar with each other’s nuances by now, you angled your head to side as your hands comfortably wrapped around his neck. Nudging your nose slightly with his own, he rested his forehead against yours before the velvet skin of his lips matched your own.

You felt one of his hands move to curve around your waist, bringing you closer to him as he deepened your act of affection. Greedy to just feel more of him, you leaned into Sakusa again, lips meeting twice, three times, before you pulled away.

His loud groan was palpable to the now silent hallway.

Sakusa was only ever so affectionate when you were in private. And so for him to be this forward while the possibility of getting caught still hung in the balance was a rare thing - not that you were complaining.

“Come on, we should go catch-up with the rest of your team.” You said almost breathlessly, still sharing the same breath in your close embrace.

You felt one of his hands travel behind your head slowly, grazing the back of your neck softly as he went. You leaned into him at the feeling, sensitive to the touch. The smirk on his face was obvious, the jackass - teasing you in public of all places. 

“Do we have to?”

Was he trying to tempt you to just go straight home to your shared apartment?

Not one to be easily swayed, you gave him a small peck on the lips before backing out of his embrace entirely. 

His hands dropped down to yours as you went, “Yes, we have to.”

Pulling you back to him, and chastely kissing your forehead this time, Sakusa replied. “Okay, but only for you.”

Your smile only widened then, at his affection words meant only for you. 

Your relationship was never easy, busy with your respective college degrees, and the attention that came with being a professional athlete gaining world-renown. Like every other couple, you fought, and cried, and loved each other so much in your own little ways.

The two of you had a quiet sort of romance. You were not the sort who would flaunt your relationship in public, nor would you so eagerily utter the words I love you as other couples, but you knew that what you had was real.

What started as a chance encounter became the best partner you could ever ask for.

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

Author’s notes:

The only reason I’m thinking Fukurōdani has dorms is just an educated guess:

All the schools that have “Academy” in the name seem to be the ‘higher’ or more prestigious schools. Karasuno High, Nekoma High, Shinzen High - none of these places have dorms. But Shiratorizawa Academy; Fukurōdani Academy; Itachiyama Academy -> since Shiratorizawa is confirmed to have dorms i figured ayyy let's roll with it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ A loooot of my assumptions are going to be based off Shiratorizawa - like the fact that they feel they’re the best and practice with colleges instead of other hs cause they’re not good enough lmao

IT ALMOST KILLS ME that we know only TWO people on the Itachiyama team and then timeskip hits and its like ?? LOL ok ?? hype them up for so long and JUST NOW we see Sakusa play ok ok ok 

✧  Masterlist

[myhoneststudyblr]

every single student in the world has likely procrastinated at some point - i know i definitely have! sometimes i think it can be quite helpful because means that you don't spend every minute of every day studying... but on the other hand, it can become very hard to beat. there are so many advice posts in the community on this topic but i thought that i would share my own tips! 

disclaimer: everyone studies differently and these are my personal tips. they may not work for you but they can be a good starting point 

What is Procrastination?

i found this little summary of procrastinating on the internet and thought it completely covered everything that i wanted to say on this point:

Procrastination is the habit of delaying an important task, usually by focusing on less urgent, more enjoyable, and easier activities instead. It is different from laziness, which is the unwillingness to act.

Procrastination can restrict your potential and undermine your career. It can also disrupt teamwork, reduce morale, and even lead to depression and job loss. So, it's crucial to take proactive steps to prevent it.

The first step to overcoming procrastination is to recognize that you're doing it. Then, identify the reasons behind your behavior and use appropriate strategies to manage and overcome it.

- How to Stop Procrastinating by Mindtools

so what is learnt from this is that:

procrastination is not being lazy 

it is avoiding tasks by doing other easier tasks

it can have negative effects

you need to proactively take steps to avoid it 

first, recognise the procrastinating then use strategies to break the cycle

Conventional Tips

these are the basic tips that are some of the most well-known strategies for ending procrastination and can be some of the most important steps!

1. get organised. tidy up your desk to study space because there is nothing worse than having to work in a place that is chaotic and mess. collect the information you need for the task, for example, notes you've made or a textbook. 

2. to-do lists are your friend. a lot of people (including me) really struggle with timetables for studying because it can seem really structured and there is no flexibility or real allowance for things that may crop up during the day (your food takes longer to cook, you have to unexpectedly do a task around the house, you get a really bad headache and need to take a break). in my opinion, to-do lists help solve this problem! you can clearly see the tasks that you want to get done for the day but you don't have stressful time constraints. personally, i always use todoist to keep track of everything. to-do lists also make it easier to break tasks down

3. break the task down. one of the biggest cause of procrastination is having a huge task or project ahead of you because it seems really daunting and where on earth are you even going to start? so break it down *completely*. in your to-do list, don't just write ‘german homework’, write down even task that you need to do within it and be specific: for example ‘pg. 11 ex 4a, 4b and 4c’, ‘textbook listening task on pg. 47′ and ‘250-word essay on social media in Germany’. breaking it down makes the tasks seem more attainable and when you’ve done one and you can cross it off your list, it gives you a boost to keep going

4. eliminate distractions. this is a big one. even if you do all of the above, if you are constantly being distracted by things, you aren't going to get much done. try to find a place that is quiet enough that you can focus and you feel comfortable studying in. as well as this you need to think about what to do with your phone as the likelihood is that this will be the most distracting thing. you can simply turn it off, put on do not disturb, leave it in another room or use and app like forest (that last one is what i use and i don't know where i would be without it!)

5. use incentives. finishing a task is an achievement so treat it like one! before you study, decide on something that you will give yourself as a reward for doing it. this may be watching that new episode of your favourite programme or a tasty snack! 

6. set timers. don't just launch yourself into a task, because that again can make it seem daunting and feel unending. rather, set a timer for a specific time because you’ll know that you just need to focus for that specific length of time and then you can go take a break and do something nice. for timing your study sessions, you could use the Pomodoro technique 

7. allow for breaks (but try to avoid long ones). you are not a machine and as much as it would be great to be able to, you cant study for hours on end without giving your mind a break from focusing. so schedule in break time for yourself, particularly for times that you know your motivation dips, and do something nice. but be very careful that you don't accidentally slip back into procrastinating habits and keep breaks short. unless you are very disciplined it is unlikely that an hour-long break will stay just an hour.

8. know how you study but don’t be afraid to mix it up. everyone studies differently and so there are going to be some study methods that work better for some than others. so try to make sure that you are studying smart and that you aren't wasting your own time cause that can be incredibly unmotivating. HOWEVER, if there is anything that I’ve learnt from online school its that doing the same task all the time, every day is mind-numbingly boring and you just want to do anything else. so try to switch up what you are doing. if you usually just type notes from the textbook, maybe try doing it in a mindmap one week, or on flashcards, maybe do some practise questions to keep your mind engaged. 

9. play music. now this one really depends on the person and how you study. some people need absolute silence and that is fine, but others need something to fill the silence or maybe cover up background noise (for example if you live in a busy household). try to pick music however that is not going to distract you - the key tips for this is to pick music without lyrics. this can be classical music, video game music, or general ‘chill’ music (there are so many playlists out there for chill studying music). i personally listen to Francesco Parrino religiously while studying because he does piano covers of pop songs, so i know the songs and enjoy them but there are no lyrics that can distract me 

10. stay hydrated, well-rested and not hungry. this is part of eliminating distractions because if you are thirsty, you are going to be thinking about how you want a drink; if you are tired, you are going to be thinking about how tired you are; if you are hungry, you are going to be thinking about what you want for lunch or whatever. make sure you are hydrated, well-rested and not hungry so you can focus solely on your task or work.

Unconventional Tips

these are some slightly more unusual tips that you might not have seen before but that I've nevertheless found very useful!

1. video yourself or do a timelapse. this is something that I’ve only recently done because i saw a tip on this from someone during my quarantine challenge and thought that it would be cool to do. and it really works! i did it twice once when i was typing notes and a second time when i was handwriting notes and it really made me focus on what is as doing because the video put some pressure on me to look like i was properly studying - i could take a 5-minute break in the middle of my work to mess around with my pen, I just had to keep going so it really forces you to do the work. also watching the video when i was done made me really proud cause i had visual proof of how much i completed!

2. accept that some days you are going to get very little done. this may seem a little bit odd to put on a post that is meant to avoid getting nothing done but it’s actually a very important thing to remember. sometimes you need to take days off because otherwise you are going to burnout and some days you are just not going to be in the right mindset for studying because maybe you are exhausted after a big exam, or you have a headache or you feel unwell. you just need to accept it, draw a line under it, take time for yourself, and resolve yourself to work tomorrow once you feel a bit better. there is no shame in taking time to make sure you stay healthy. if you can, try to get your quickest, easiest task done so you have some sense of accomplishment.

3. ‘churn it out and f**k off’. this was my mum’s motto when she was studying and working in academia. and she recently told it to me when i was getting stressed about all the big tasks during online school. i am a perfectionist and i always want to hand in my very best work, put 100% into everything, but honestly that is impossible. some days you just need to get stuff done and if that isn't your very best then it doesn't matter too much because at least you got it done. and once you get it done you can just forget about it.

4. ask a friend or parent to check up on you. when you are studying by yourself it can be hard to motivate yourself because you know that no ones actually going to check whether you made those votes or did the reading, so ask a friend or someone you live with to check whether you've done the work or get them to read essays. you then get an external reason to study or do your tasks because you need to show them something.

5. rephrase how you think of tasks. when you think that ‘you need to do this task’ or ‘you have to get this done’, a lot of the time this causes unneeded stress and anxiety that is not going to help you at all. also it makes it seem like you are being forced to do something and human beings generally don't act great when they are forced to do something. so try to change your language when thinking about task into one that is more forgiving such as ‘i choose to do this project so that i can go meet my friends tomorrow’ and ‘i choose to read this book now because it will help me in the lecture next week’. this is probably the most difficult strategy on this list and it will take a lot of practice (i am certainly still practising it) but in the long term, it can help you change the way in which you view studying for the better. 

✨✨✨

i hope this was helpful and that these tips will be useful, and perhaps you've discovered some new ones! if anyone has anything to add please feel free to reply or reblog with the advice <3

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTW: Jared, Julius, Oilers; dynamic duo

For the prompt: More interactions between Julius and his Emotional Support Albertan

Quiet Stringbean lineys bromance ended too soon. (Still a bromance! Now long-distance.)

“What are the giggle twins giggling about?” Vic asks.

Darryl looks over at Benny and Fitzy, but they’re both shovelling food into their mouths like they’ve never eaten in their entire lives.

“OJ and J Math,” Vic says.

“Those are the least giggly twins I have ever met,” Darryl says.

“Look,” Vic says.

OJ and Math are bent over a phone, poking one another over whatever they’re watching, and — Darryl wouldn’t call it giggling. Snickering, maybe. Laughing at something, not with something. Still, it’s nice to see them act their age for once, instead of acting like grumpy middle aged men before they’re even legal in the States. Still more kids than adults, for all they both seem to want everyone to forget that.

“Let ‘em be,” Darryl says.

“I’m just shocked they actually know how to laugh,” Vic says, and laughs when Darryl elbows him.

*

Jade hates charity night.

That sounds awful. Charity is great. Jade is very pro-charity. Jade is not as pro handling a roster of grumpy men in tuxedos. She’s also not pro the unending headache of the weeks of set-up, the fans who think buying a ticket — for charity! — means they’re owed a player’s undivided attention, or, right now, Julius Halla’s impressive ability to turn sideways and disappear right when she needs him to go on stage.

It doesn’t help the search that the entire roster’s in tuxes, along with a number of the other attendees. Black tie everywhere. In another crowd she’d be able to pin Halla by height, but in this one he’s middle of the pack. No bright blond heads in her view, and she’s got — fuck, six minutes to get him to the stage, mic him up, make sure he remembers what he’s doing, plus his lines. She’s not optimistic about any of it, particularly the lines.

She keeps her eyes peeled with the guys north of six feet. No blond head, a blond head but it’s Morris’ strawberry blond — she stops and fixes his bowtie, which is the most crooked she’s seen, and Morris earnestly thanks her — light brown head, dark brown head, Darryl’s head!

“Have you seen Halla?” Jade asks. Darryl’s not only the one who’s most likely to actually have the answer, he’s also the one who’s most likely to stop and help her look if he doesn’t have the answer. You’re not supposed to have favourites. Jade would probably cry if he got traded.

“Look for Matheson,” Darryl says. “Guarantee you’ll find Halla.”

Jared revises her search. She finds Matheson quickly, leaning up against a wall close to the door like he’s considering escaping, and lo and behold, when she gets there Halla’s leaning beside him, successfully masked from view until you’re close up. She suspects it was on purpose, especially after he blanches when he sees her.

“You,” she says. “Come with me.”

“Jared?” Halla asks.

“Fine,” Matheson sighs, and when Jade marches to the stage they’re both tagging after her. Which she’s fine with, particularly when Matheson translates her directions from English to — still English but apparently more comprehensible to Halla English — they sound pretty much the same to her, but she gets confused looks and Matheson gets nods — and Halla’s only three minutes late to the stage.

“You want to go up too?” Jade asks as Halla steps on.

“No thank you,” Matheson says, in a voice that sounds more like ‘fuck no’, and Jade doesn’t press.

*

“How come we aren’t telepathic?” Fitzy whines.

Ben blinks. “Like X-men?” he asks.

“Like OJ and J Math,” Fitzy says.

“Uh,” Ben says.

“Look at them!” Fitzy says.

Ben looks. They’re just sitting on the bench, not doing anything. 

“Uh,” Ben repeats.

“They’re communicating,” Fitzy whispers. “Look!”

J Math elbows OJ, and OJ snickers. They are communicating.

“They got voted best bromance,” Fitzy pouts. “We’re the best bromance Benny.”

“Thanks?” Ben says.

“So we gotta practice,” Fitzy says. “What am I thinking about right now?”

“Mike?” Ben guesses.

Fitzy fist pumps. “On our way, Benny, on our way.”

[blitzturtles]

Title: Where Soul Meets Body, 1/3 (Ao3)

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JuJutsu Kaisen / JJK

Pairing(s): SatoSugu, Sashisu

Summary: His head is being split open. Somewhere along the sutures of his skull, someone is slowly hammering away at his sanity and breaking him apart, piece by piece.

Notes: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Notes: Super late to the party, but I really wanted to do something for Sashisu week. Hopefully it's not too disjointed; I wrote it completely out of order.

Each chapter takes place a couple of months apart, and it starts with SatoSugu and ends with Sashisu. All parts take place before the events with Riko.

-

His head is being split open. Somewhere along the sutures of his skull, someone is slowly hammering away at his sanity and breaking him apart, piece by piece. It’s all he can do to remain upright, sitting rather than standing, because the latter would be impossible in his current state.

It’s his own fault. He overused the Six Eyes. Beyond his limits, beyond his body’s ability to contain his fragile brain into something human, and now he pays the price with the sort of pain that is simultaneously all consuming and unending. Where it bears down on him to the point that breathing is damn near impossible, and all he can do is grasp at his knees with his hands. His nails bite into the skin even through his clothes, and he tries to focus on that instead.

His breathing is too rapid, and even that hurts his head, but he can’t get it under control. Try as he might, he loses his grip on it the moment he thinks he’s managed to regain some semblance of composure, and he’s once again gasping and panting in his failed attempts to keep from making a sound. To avoid alerting anyone to his condition.

“Satoru,” the voice is familiar, and there’s a tinge of something to it that stands out even in Satoru’s addled brain, but he can’t place a name anymore than he can an emotion. It’s all nonsense blurred together into something incomprehensible. Whatever’s said next is lost on him, but then he’s moving. And not of his own free will, and it hurts. His head screams as he’s jostled. He digs his nails into someone else’s skin.

There’s another voice. Higher in pitch and equally as familiar, but no more identifiable. Hushed whispers follow, but he processes nothing of the actual words spoken. He’s sure that if he tries, he’ll fry whatever’s left of his brain, and that will be it. He’ll have managed to do what no one else has so far.

“Satoru,” someone says again, and he can’t even discern the difference in the two voices now, despite how different they are from one another on any other day. It’s all noise. An unending static that blends together until there’s nothing left for him to decipher. Still, he tilts his head in its direction, and tries.

There’s a pressure against his skull. A gentle thing. A familiar press of two hands, and then there is relief. It floods through him in an instant, leaves him feeling like he’s floating for a solid few seconds before he comes back down to the familiar pain of a much more manageable headache, and he’s smiling, wide and dopey, from the type of elation that only comes with such an abrupt shift.

“Back with us?” Shoko asks with worry that seeps into her usually monotonous tone. He imagines her eyes searching, watching for signs that whatever healing she’s done isn’t enough, but his eyes are covered, and he cannot actually see her to confirm his suspicions. It doesn’t stop him from sticking his foot in his mouth when he speaks,

“What, worried about me?”

She hits him in the arm out of sheer exasperation. It rolls off her in waves, and he does not need to see to imagine the scowl on her face. Despite that, the actual punch is gentle. More a soft push that knocks his arm back into whatever’s underneath him.

He’s momentarily disoriented when that whatever decides to move. It only lasts for a moment, but it’s long enough to make Satoru aware of the fact that his head is resting in Suguru’s lap, which means he’s lying down now. He’s not sure when that happened, but he isn’t about to protest.

“Don’t be an asshole,” Suguru says in that irritated tone of his, but Satoru catches the undercurrent of anxiety that runs through him. It reads in the tension in his legs, and the way Suguru shifts again.

“I just overdid it a little,” Satoru says as if it’s nothing. As if he hadn’t, a moment ago, been thinking of his own demise.

“I told you that you would fry that brain of yours,” Shoko says, unimpressed with him still, but that’s her natural state anytime they’re within proximity to one another.

“I’ll just have to figure something out, no big deal,” Satoru shrugs, bumping his shoulder against one of Suguru’s shins in the process. He could sit up now, but he’s comfortable. Besides, the worst of his headache might be gone, but there’s a residual pain that remains. A dull reminder of how much worse things could be.

“What, the Strongest isn’t actually invincible?” There’s a taunting to Suguru’s voice that holds no water to the worry that edges his words. It’s an ever-shifting thing that’s settled under his skin the way his curses are nestled in the core of his being. Satoru sees both just as clearly as he sees the cursed energy that flows through Suguru.

“I would have been fine. You two are fussy.”

“Fussy?”

Satoru laughs at the way Suguru’s voice lilts up at the end. An affronted sort of sound that makes him forget about the pain that’s left in his head. If only for a moment. Right up until his laughter sets off something in the back of his skull, and he’s reminded of the agony of earlier. His hand flies up before he can stop himself, and he presses it against the bandages wrapped around his head. He can’t actually remember when those got there, but he’s grateful all the same.

“Satoru?” This time he can’t discern the difference in voices because of the way they overlap. There are hands on him in an instant, pressing against his hair and gently nudging his hand to the side. He doesn’t fight them, even though the pain dissipates fairly quickly.

“I’m fine,” he tries to tell them, but he can tell that neither is convinced. Shoko only removes her hands when she finds there’s nothing more she can do. Whatever lingers is for him and him alone to work through, and it’s more a matter of time than anything else.

Sleep. He probably needs sleep. And maybe some food and a bit of hydration, which is technically within Shoko’s purview, but he doesn’t think he’s at the point of needing an IV for fluids. A couple of glasses of water should do the trick, and maybe something sweet.

It’s then that he realizes that he has no idea where he is. Sure, he knows he’s got his head resting on Suguru’s lap, but he doesn’t actually know where they are. He remembers being moved. Remembers the bursts of new pain with every shift. His hands pat underneath him to try to sort out where he is, and he comes to the conclusion that they’re on a bed of some variety. The blanket he grasps between his fingers is familiar, though not his own.

“Satoru!”

“Hm?”

There’s a heaved sigh of what might be annoyance and might be relief. Satoru’s not paying as much attention as he could be. He’s still trying to figure out how much time had to pass for Suguru to carry him all the way to his room. It’s time lost to him, and it speaks of the pain he had been in. The fact that he’s only now putting it together speaks of the pain he’s still in.

“He’s not listening,” Suguru says after what feels like only seconds have passed.

“What?” Had he missed something?

“See?”

“I’m listening!”

“Now.”

“It’s to be expected,” Shoko says as her gaze shifts from Satoru to Suguru, and she speaks about Satoru as if he isn’t lying right there, listening to everything that’s being said.

“I guess,” Suguru says, words drawn out in a way that indicates that he doesn’t like what he’s being told, but isn’t about to argue with the one that knows better than him.

“I think I’m missing something here.”

“You’re missing ninety percent of your brain cells,” Suguru’s tone is so grave that, for a moment, Satoru doesn’t realize he’s being an asshole.

“Hey!”

“You certainly fried a few,” Shoko adds with a huff. Satoru can hear the ‘I told you so’ that clings to every word she speaks.

“What is this, ‘pick on Satoru’ hour?”

“Only because you’re the idiot that nearly fried your brain,” Suguru answers.

Satoru groans and decides he’s had enough of this conversation, “You two can go now.”

“This is my room.”

“So?”

Suguru reaches to smack him in the chest. It earns him a quiet, but dramatic ‘ow!’ in response. Suguru rolls his eyes so hard that Satoru swears he can see it through his bandages, clear as day.

“I—” Shoko starts, drawing both of their attention upward and toward her. “Don’t think I feel comfortable with him being alone.”

“I’m right here,” Satoru says in protest to being spoken of rather than to.

“Yeah, good point,” Suguru answers, blatantly ignoring him.

“Still here.”

“And you’re stuck with us now,” Suguru says with finality in his words.

Satoru thinks about arguing for the sake of arguing, but there are long, calloused fingers carding gently through his wild hair, and, suddenly, he can’t remember what he meant to say. Instead, he leans into the touch and closes his eyes, forgetting for a moment that there’s any lingering pain in his head.

The peaceful moment is ruined once he picks up on Shoko heading for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To get my books. I have a paper I’m supposed to write.”

“Not-uh. C’mere,” Satoru pats the bed beside himself and stares her down, as much as he can with his eyes covered. She stares back for a long moment before inevitably giving in and making her way back to the bed.

“Is that actually comfortable?” She asks, indicating the way his legs are partially hanging off the mattress so as to make room for Suguru.

“Comfortable enough. Quit stalling.”

“Fine, whatever,” Shoko mutters more to herself than to Satoru. She climbs onto the bed, taking up the space beside the two boys without actually touching either of them. It’s not as uncomfortable as she would have expected, but it’s a little odd. Fortunately for her, Satoru doesn’t last long in the conscious world. He’s asleep within seconds of her getting settled, and she has to marvel at it, really. She’s never seen Satoru pass out so quickly when there wasn’t blood involved.

“I kind of expected that he would talk in his sleep,” she whispers.

“Oh, he does,” Suguru says with a laugh, “Just wait.”

[shoshiwrites]

I made a post about writing prompts involving vintage clothing and @junojelli graciously decided to humor me. Apologies to the Paris passage of The Women Who Wrote the War and to Martha Gellhorn.

Summary: Jo discovers an old purchase. Alternate summary: Dreams and what's between.

long ago and far away

All the songs that talk about Paris, and springtime, the magazines back to advertising cruises and honeymoons — they don’t talk about the war. 

When she thinks of Paris she thinks of crunching leaves, and embers, and charcoal. The prison at Ivry. The unending dark of the underground. The horror at Romainville, of all of it. Graves covered in flowers, stray petals winging on the autumn wind.

The late afternoon light hitting a water glass on the table at Café de la Source, Kay’s thoughtful French and their waiter’s responses ringing in her ears. Talk of the future, somehow. WACs and GIs and FFI fighters who looked all of sixteen, nightclub musicians and street artists, all finding their place here, her fellow reporters leaving their mud-caked boots in hotel lobbies, K-rations next to champagne. 

It feels like a different life. 

Berlin does too, but less so. She still has a hangnail healing from Berlin. A burn from an errant cigarette. 

What does she have from Paris? Memories. Nightmares. Even after Germany, still. And, when she’d finally unpacked her bags, she realized, a piece of pink silk she’d all but forgotten about. It was a slip, embroidered in a prewar style, bows and blossoms at the hem. 

Who was I when I bought this, she thought, an edge of disbelief, the ghost of a sneer. She remembered regretting it like a punch in the gut the day afterwards, when they went to Issy. Really, who?

It hardly seems fitting for a trousseau, now. It doesn’t match the ring on her finger, characterized by a distinct lack of frills. 

Trousseau. 

She almost shakes her head at that too. She finds a hanger and puts the slip at the back of the closet.

They’ve been engaged for eight days before he stays the night. A week plus one. 

Another day of looking for a job, empty pleasantries pushing down his shoulders. He exhales when he sits down at her kitchen table, a rush of breath, apologizes quietly for asking her to bring him his coffee instead of fixing it himself. 

He looks even more unsure than he did when he appeared at her door. He’s heard of a few more openings, will try again tomorrow. She squeezes his hand. 

They undress quietly, and there’s something in the air between them. Still getting used to the other’s eyes on them again. He blinks at her in the peach-pink silk, doesn’t seem to notice the creases that have her even more self-conscious. 

She doesn’t have time to feel ridiculous though, before he’s patting the space beside him on the bed. It’s small, not exactly a place to stretch out, especially with his leg. She apologizes, though next to his house it’s really the only option. 

He kisses her warm on the mouth, again at the edge of it, and below her bottom lip. The silence between them settles, save for the creak of the mattress as they shift together. 

“You don’t have to, Josie,” he says then, and his voice is very quiet. 

She knows the scars will show with the low back of the slip. He’ll see them when she gets up. “Don’t have to what?” 

“Marry me.” Her chest aches, in that moment. There’s no venom in it, his next statement. Only exhaustion. “Don’t look at me like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I know what you’re talking about.” 

“Do you?” 

“Joe.”

He closes his eyes. Probably wishes he had a cigarette, Jo thinks, from the look on his face. Opens them again and looks down at her with an expression she can’t name. His voice is slow, and softer, taking in the fabric, the way it pools as she lays beside him. “Where’d you get that?”

It all feels like it could catch in her throat. “Paris.”

“When?”

“Before.” Not after. Not in her brief stay there on the way back stateside, all clouds and headaches and a pen pressed too hard into the paper. “I…I was thinking of you.”

It’s the truth. She was, thinking of his warm brown eyes and everything she wanted to say. The color that makes her think of love. 

“You were?”

“Yeah.”

“You still think about me?” There’s the tiniest pull of a smirk to his mouth, the first she’s seen in god knows how long.

“A little.”

“A little?”

She smiles, gently clasps a hand at the back of his neck. Rests her head on his shoulder. “A lot, then.”

It’s quiet then, as his hand roams down her body. As he brushes the back of his knuckles against her thigh. 

“Please give me more credit,” she says. “I don’t know a lot but I mean what I say.”

His hand cups her knee. He looks down at her, something searching. “I’m sorry,” he says. “That I can’t- there’s so much I should- the job, I mean, I- I can’t even stand for too long, Josie, it’s-”

“Can you hold me?” she asks softly.

“What?”

“Can you hold me?”

She sits up, releases his arm behind her. He pulls her to him. Something clear about his voice now, as she nestles closer. “Yeah. Yeah, I can hold you.”

Who was I, back then? Her mouth finds his; he meets her there. Someone who loved you. Wanted to be seen by you. Felt safe in your arms. 

“That’s all I need.”

He runs the pad of his thumb down her hip, the seam. “I love you,” he says, and it’s the second time she’s heard it from his lips. She can’t count how many other ways he’s said it, without words. What does he see when he looks at me? 

“I love you too.”

“This color looks nice on you.” He’s playing with the hem now, tracing over the embroidery. 

“Ever think you’d see me in pink?”

She can hear him let the air out of his nose, looks up to see him smiling. “We counting my dreams?”

Warmth blooms in her stomach then, unfurls across the tops of her legs. “I wear a lot of pink in those?”

“Sometimes,” he says, and she giggles. 

“And how were they?” She’d prayed for dreams like that, after the bad ones. She thinks he must have too. “The dreams.”

“Pretty nice.”

She makes a face, something like laughter rising in her throat. “Pretty nice?” 

“Don’t want to make you blush, Josie.” 

“Oh, I’m sure.” She’s surprised then, by how fragile her next question feels. “You still have them?”

He kisses her temple, a spot above her brow. “Why would I,” he says. “You’re right here.”

[acollectionofficsandshit]

oh no i was so jealous of your monday when you said you only had a few meetings 😢 sorry it was a long day!

thank you baby! honestly today was so far from what i'd expected and needed it to be that I'm sitting on my coach at 9 pm trying to figure out what the fuck happened

like I have mondays off right? and I only go in for my meetings now, this would have been my second week of meetings and I had to go in because I'm in charge of this document we need for the meeting and I had follow up on like 50 fucking orders this morning before our meeting in an hour because they were all made at the end of last week and hadn't been processed until today.

so I'm sitting there, after having gotten up, driven the 45 minutes to work and arrived at work early to get all my calls done by the meeting... i'm sitting at my desk, frantically trying to get it all done by the meeting like i've been told I have to... only to be informed at 8:45 that we aren't actually having the meeting today, we're having it tomorrow and the three guys I work with all have known since friday or saturday but NO ONE FUCKING TOLD ME SHIT!

then I thought, oh well i'll just go home then and have my day mostly off work, right? NO, because somehow they all couldn't email me or the one that has my number couldn't text me to let me know but the two that didn't even come in today, despite normally working mondays, were both suddenly perfectly capable of emailing me unending lists of things I needed to get done for them today 🤨

I know that was a rant but i'm really annoyed with all three of them and I swear to god if they say shit to me tomorrow I will lose my mind because they'd already been on thin ice and then they pulled this shit.

I'm so sorry that once again I don't have the fic done when I thought I would so here's what i'm gonna do from here on out, I'm gonna stop giving y'all estimated publish dates and just wait until a chapter is ready to give y'all a heads up. I think that will save everyone a lot of confusion and headaches. please be patient with me, the coworkers in my department mean well but honestly it feels like I'm raising them all, like they're not grown ass men.

[renjunbae]

resurface; kim jungwoo.

synopsis : all you had wanted was a quiet summer by the beach to relax, escape the oppressiveness of the city, and get your mind off of your last disastrous relationship, but apparently peace was hard to come by, especially when a figure from your past reappears unexpectedly in your life.

pairing : kim jungwoo x fem!reader

genre : beach resort au, university au, romance, fluff

warnings : (very) mild profanities

length : 7.1k

soundtrack : let me drown - deanz ft. andy delos santos; u n eye - boy in space; sun goes down - aiyo

author's note : this is part of the ot23 "resonance beach" collab hosted by @amorajae. thank you so much for letting me participate & go check out the collab masterlist for more addicting summer reads!

Socializing had never been so suffocatingly painful and pretentious.

Clinking champagne glasses, aimless mingling and a forever unending charade of polite smiles that never quite reached one’s eye, they surrounded you like a shroud that made it hard to breathe, a shirt that was too tight and biting uncomfortably at the neck. Much like the very dress you were wearing at the moment; form-fitting, over-the-top fancy, and narrow in all the spots you hated.

Oh, how you wished to change out of it all. Rip off the structured binds around your entire being, take off and away from the repetitive scene that had become more frequent over the past weeks and the main cause of your headaches. But there was nothing you could do about it except stare uselessly at the clock as its hands ticked by at an excruciatingly slow pace, and you hated that fact more than anything else.

“Well then, it has been lovely to meet you, Miss (Y/N). I can see that your parents have done an excellent job raising such an elegant and well-mannered young lady.” The concluding words, along with an outstretched hand, snapped you out of your misery and forced your attention back to the middle-aged man before you. Already, you were struggling to recall his name from the brief—or was it excruciatingly long?—introduction he’d done when he sought to strike a conversation with you twenty minutes earlier. Was he a superior of your father’s? Or maybe a recent acquaintance of your mother’s? You didn’t know, nor cared, really. After two hours of entertaining your parent’s countless associates with answers to their onslaught of questions about which college you attended and other various aspects of your personal life, you no longer had much energy left to spare for further pretense.

For the entirety of the exchange, you’d somehow gotten by with absentminded nods and murmured agreements. Thankfully, your latest companion was too immersed in his tales to notice your drifting focus and lack of interest, at which you almost heaved a sigh of relief. If your parents had received word of your misbehavior, you’d be a goner for sure, and you certainly were not looking forward to another round of their droning lecture about mannerism, etiquette, and public image.

“It was nice meeting you too,” you managed to return with a smile that was just about passable for being semi-enthusiastic, though inside, you were cringing hard at your poor attempts of keeping up the graciously civilized front your mother had always insisted for you to display in public. Forget the crowded dinner parties, forget the fancy evening galas, with every passing minute you were closer to less than a hair’s breadth away from plopping down on the nearest sofa and calling it quits. But you retained your composure and made sure to wave politely as the man stepped away, only letting out a long-held breath after his figure had completely disappeared amidst the crowd.

The room was getting uncomfortably stuffy, and your desire to leave was ever growing as you struggled to get through the throng of chattering bodies for some space alone. Sure, you’d been at a number of clubs and parties with your friends, but they were always on the more laid back and easygoing side of the atmosphere spectrum. You didn’t have to put up a perfect front for others to examine, nor be pressured to uphold your entire family’s reputation. And you certainly wouldn’t be obliged to answer your mother’s calls from ten feet away, beckoning you over to no doubt meet another friend of hers.

It was all the same, over and over. Introductions, small talk, and then going into the personal life of the (L/N)s’ “all grown up” daughter.

“Neo Tech University? The top school in the area? How nice!”

Your father beamed proudly. “Of course, she’s my daughter, after all.”

The adults laughed. You didn’t join them, instead picking at the fabric of your gown until the conversation required your participation again.

“She’s matured so much, I bet she has all the boys at her heels already,” The lady commented, to which your mom immediately responded with a pleased smile and, “Of course, she’s got a boyfriend too. They’re soo cute together. Hey, honey, how come he hasn’t come around in a while?”

God, why? Why, of all things, did they have to bring this up? You felt your insides squeezing together painfully at the mention of the topic, your fists clenched so hard you could feel your fingernails digging into your skin. You’d thought this night couldn’t get any worse than it already was, but you were wrong, it just did. Their gazes were all set on you expectantly, and you hated the attention. Hated being the focus of the conversation and picked apart to the seams.

“We broke up,” you said eventually, avoiding your parents’ eyes.

Your mother's smile fell away to an expression of shock and disbelief. “Why? I thought you two were doing so well with each other.”

Yeah, we were, before he cheated on me, you were tempted to say. To firmly erase any of your mother’s misconceptions that she had even a single idea of what was going on in her daughter’s life. But you just shrugged nonchalantly, as if the breakup was only a trivial matter. If you’d told them the truth, your mother would’ve no doubt considered it a huge blow to her reputation.

“It’s alright, you’ll find someone else who’s worthy of you,” the lady patted your shoulder sympathetically, and you felt your face heat up in a mixture of humiliation and frustration. The last thing you needed was someone telling you that in public.

You figured this was a good time to leave, maybe dig a hole and bury yourself in it. Tonight had been a suitable enough reason. Murmuring a quick apology to the adults, you excused yourself and made your way toward the exit before your mother could intercept. People stared as you passed, but at this point, their hypercritical looks were the least of your concerns. If grown-up life was beyond the point of “childishness” and “selfish acts”, then you’d grown beyond the point of caring.

By the time you’d arrived home, it was already ten o’clock. You and your parents had left for the gala around six-thirty, which meant you��d spent at least a good three hours and a half at the venue, engaging in hollow, repetitive conversations with near strangers. It was exhausting, to say the least, and you found yourself craving a warm bath the moment you stepped through the door. But you had your priorities set straight, and after changing into some casual clothing, you made a beeline for the kitchen to make yourself a pot of ramen. You were practically starving after almost an entire night of strolling around and snacking only on lady-like portions of foreign delicacies at the event.

While the water boiled, you dialed your best friend’s number. She’d told you of her plans—or the lack thereof—this evening, consisting of nothing but binge watching anime and consuming an inhumane amount of triple chocolate fudge ice cream. That was basically an open invitation for you to call her whenever you felt like ranting about old men and how it just wasn’t fair no one else was obligated to chat for hours on end with them about stock market prices, and you accepted it gladly.

Yera picked up on the second ring. True to her word, you could hear the incoherent Japanese shouting of the characters in whatever anime she was binging at the moment.

“How did it go? The gala?”

Just the sound of her voice was enough to ease some of the tension in your shoulders. Your best friend always knew what to say and how to lift your spirits in times like this, no matter how blunt and straightforward she may be, and you were looking forward to her advice.

“Terrible,” you groaned. “Whoever came up with the idea of stuffing over two hundred boring, judgmental business people in a room far too bright and oxygen-lacking must’ve been out of their mind.”

You heard Yera snort from the other side of the line. “Yeah, no shit, sherlock. You know, I’d reassure you it’s not that bad, but I know it’s exactly that bad.”

You shifted your position so that you faced the kitchen window, where a view of the city’s nightscape unfolded before your eyes. The sky was dark, but thousands of glimmering lights made up for it—neon billboards, cars flying by on the busy streets below, office lightings, roadside lamps, and glowing patches of yellow from residential buildings like your own. You stared out at the sea of twinkling sparks, and for a moment, felt so very small amidst the immensely vast world.

“They mentioned him.”

There was only a beat of silence. Yera didn’t need long to catch onto who you were referring to.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, they were talking about boys and then my mom brought up the fact that I have a boyfriend—had, actually,” you sighed, an action you found occurring more often than not lately. “Guess I forgot to tell them he’s an ex now, but then again, they didn’t ask before.”

“Gosh, that must’ve been so awkward.”

“It was,” you shut your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose with your forefingers. “You tell me. I had to leave, right away. I’m just glad it’s over now.”

“Wait wait wait, hold on. How many of these event thingies have you gone to in the past week?”

“Three, not counting the time my mom had some friends over for lunch. They stayed until dinner, actually, and we had to go out and eat.”

“What the heck?? And you let them drag you along?”

“It’s my duty to accompany them, I guess. They’d be mad if I don’t go and let them show me off for a bit. But then again, there usually aren’t this many events. My dad just signed a contract with some important clients, and my mom’s been invited to a bunch of social gatherings, plus the fact that normally, I’d have school as an excuse. There’s just been more of them recently, and it’s not like I have any good enough reason to opt out.”

Yera gasped. “It’s summer. Summer!! That’s all they should need. It’s summer break right now and it’s your time off. They shouldn’t need any more reason than that. And whether it’s the norm or not, you have to know that you are in charge of yourself and that you get to decide what you do with your own life, not them.”

“You have a point, Yera, you always do, but...” you shook your head. “I honestly don’t know at this point. Things are easier said than done. I hate it all, but in a way, it’s part of my responsibility.”

“Okay, oookay. That’s it. No more dinner parties or rich people galas for you, (Y/N). It’s your time off and I’m going to make sure you take some time off. Aren’t you tired of them ordering you around? You’re the one who’s in control of your own life, (Y/N). Go have a nice vacation and stay away from adult business for at least a few weeks, or I’m not letting you anywhere near my mom’s homemade honeycomb brownies again, got it?”

If Yera was bringing her mother’s brownies into the deal, then you knew she was serious. Somehow, despite the situation, you almost felt like laughing. Felt like you were invincible, as if her words brought a surge of confidence along with it. Smiling up at the night sky, you said, “Well, I guess I have to do it for those brownies.”

“Good, now go on and take on the world!”

The world—or, namely, your parents—was clearly not amused when you dragged your suitcase into the living room at eight in the morning the next day, dressed in a flowery blouse, your favorite jean shorts, and a pair of heeled sandals. They’d been eating breakfast at the dining table just ten paces across as you entered, engrossed in a conversation about the latest commercial trends and news of the business world. They looked up at the sound of wheels against the marbled floor, an initial expression of shock crossing their faces as they took in your outfit and the luggage in your hands.

Your father looked almost bewildered as he glanced between you and your mother, who’s brows had deepened into a frown. She shook her head as if to clear away thoughts of disbelief, though you could detect the note of disapproval that was weaved into the action.

“What’s with this?” she asked, her tone stern and commanding, almost as if to compel you into saying exactly what she wanted: “Nothing, mom. I’m not going anywhere.”

It had always been that way. You’d intend to do something, and she’d shut you down before you could even try. But not this time.

“Carrying out my plans for summer break,” you replied and paused before continuing. “Why?”

The lines on your mother’s forehead deepened. “Plans?”

She was waiting for you to either straight up admit what you were up to or give up. You knew that, and you didn’t want to beat around the bush either, so you looked her right in the eyes and said, “Summer vacation plans, mom. I’m leaving today.”

“(Y/N), I thought we already talked about this. You can’t just—”

“Go around and quit my duties? Yeah, I know.”

“Then what are you doing right now?”

“I’m not quitting,” you said through gritted teeth, “I’m taking the break that I deserve.”

“You’re running away,” your mother accused, her voice trembling with incredulity and, despite her apparent effort to keep it controlled, a slight hint of anger. “You’re going back on your promise and you’re not going to do what you should just because you don’t want to. Stop being so selfish and naive, (Y/N). You’re not a child anymore.”

It was something just suddenly snapped inside you, and all your pent up frustration boiled over. “Selfish? Mom, do you ever think about how I feel? I’ve put up with all the things you wanted me to do and I can’t even have a single moment when I try to focus on my own happiness for once?”

“You promised—”

“I’m not a replacement for him!”

Your parents stared, momentarily speechless from your outburst. In the silence, you felt the frustration and anger wear away and bubble down to something that resembled a fevered hurt. The broken pain in your mother’s face seemed to mirror your own, but the words slipped out anyway.

“No matter what, I can’t be him. I can’t replace him. I know that’s what you want me to be, and that if I was, maybe you could think that he’s never gone, but I can’t. I just…”

You could see that your comments had hit their mark.“(Y/N)—” your mother started.

But at this point, you were too tired of arguing to continue. You didn’t wait to hear what she had to say, only picked up your bags and headed for the entranceway. You exhaled as the door clicked shut behind you. Gosh, I’m really going to do this, am I?

Resonance Beach Resort was a nice change from the usual fast-paced schedule of your daily life that was full of unwanted obligations and tasking duties. You'd visited often in your early childhood and teenage years, and had loved the place for its elegant, luxurious accomodations and the spectacular view of a pristine beach that spanned along the resort's outer edge. But since some time ago, all the pressure and weight of your increasing responsibilities had suddenly just came crashing down on you, and you found yourself taking cram school more often than not due to your parents' constant urging. There just simply wasn't any time for you to take the long vacation you desperately craved. Now that things have finally lessened up to nothing but socializing with your parents' acquaintances, this was the first place you'd thought of for the perfect getaway. Just hide away from the rest of the world for a little bit before reality kicks in and you'd sink back into your busying routine. Here, you could finally have some peace and quiet, be able to breathe easier for once. No more business events or get-togethers, no more forced polite conversations over tall glasses of champagne. If you were going to party, then you should at least do it properly. You figured that aside from relaxation and watersports, Resonance Beach Resort had exactly that.

You'd switched over to your spare phone for the duration of your stay. If your parents decided they've had enough of your “childishly selfish acts”, they'd be greeted by a long period of ringing without answer, followed by an irksome beep and the message that, "sorry, the number you've dialed is not available".

The fight still simmered fresh at the front of your mind, and you shook your head in an attempt to brush it away. A small part of you felt almost guilty about your abruptly impromptu runaway, but it was merely a fleeting thought that passed as quickly as it had come. You knew how hard it was for your parents since what had occurred years ago, and that they were afraid of the same thing happening with you. Still, it wasn’t fair for you to bear the burden of two and act in as a mere substitute only to make someone else feel a bit better. Since when did you owe your parents your entire summer break to play pretend anyways? It isn't as if it actually helped you do anything except feed your growing boredom and frustration for hours on end.

You walked into the entrance hall and made your way to the reception area that sat in the middle of the gentle hum of music and red carpets and golden chandeliers. After going through the check-in process, you received your room cards and headed toward your room to drop off your luggage first.

The west-side elevator was mainly empty aside from a few other visitors who, like you, arrived earlier than most do. They’d entered before you and stood along the side panels, each scrolling through their devices for news and texts. Why take the time and money to come and visit, you wondered, if they were going to just be on their phones all the time? But then again, you were glad none of them paid any attention to you and savored the peaceful silence. The back of the elevator was adorned with clear glass panes that overlooked the beachside, allowing riders to gaze out at the scenery below them as they rose high above ground. You stared at the swaying palms and foaming waves in the distance, and thought that—despite being here so many times before—the view had never looked so welcoming before. You couldn’t wait until you could get down there and enjoy the feel of the warm sunshine on your back, hear nothing but the calming hum of the ocean.

There was a short ding! as the elevator doors opened and a middle-aged woman exited. You turned briefly to watch her leave and the doors clang shut once more behind her. Some passengers shifted around to space themselves more evenly upon her departure, but other than that, it was the same, still, silence as before. A few more minutes passed, and the process repeated until it was just you and another man standing by the front. On the controls panel, only one floor button was lit up.

He was handsome in the most traditional sense, tall and fit with tousled dark hair, flawlessly smooth skin and wide doe eyes directed at his phone screen. Although he was only dressed in a simple graphic tee and sweatpants, they looked too expensive for the average person to afford and the look suited him so well he could no doubt pass for the modern-day version of Cinderella’s Prince Charming. You almost laughed at the thought. That had been your reaction too when you first saw your ex, and you fell for him so quickly, so easily, it didn’t take much to convince you that he loved you as much as you loved him. After all, why not? His family had been wealthy and influential like your own, and your parents—mostly your mom—had absolutely adored him. You thought you’d been living the perfect fantasy until it all broke down and your palace had turned into nothing more than rubble and ashes.

In the quiet buzz of the elevator, you could hear as the stranger dialed a number on his phone and put it to his ear. Whoever on the other side must’ve answered immediately, because the man started to talk right away.

“Hey, where are you guys?”

“Okay, just checking that you’re in the suite because I don’t have the key.”

“Yeah, I’m almost there, why?”

“Woo wants another bag of his favorite chips from the convenience store? Seriously? We’re at a fancy beach resort and he wants chips from the convenience stores? God.”

“Yeah, I brought them, don’t worry. I swear he stuffed my trunk full of them when I wasn’t looking because I barely even have space in there anymore. Geez, you’d think he would die if he went a day without those.”

“Yeah, okay. Mm-hmm. That’s fine by me. Sounds fun. See you.”

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop on the conversation, but the slight echo in the space made it easy for you to hear every word the man said. And for some reason, it brought back long-ago memories of you and your brother, having the time of your lives marveling over the elevator’s view. Arguing about whose snacks the ones in the bag were. Roaming around the resort like it was your own home. That wasn’t possible now, of course. He was farther away than ever, and happier. There wasn’t anything you could do except be happy for him, though that did nothing to help the sore ache in you.

Your entire life felt like a train wreck at the moment, but then again, that was why you were here at Resonance Beach Resort in the first place. And as the elevator dinged once more, you were determined to make your summer better. Much better.

An afternoon in the sun seemed to do its trick.

After spending several hours out by the rolling waves, reading magazines and enjoying the spontaneity of doing whatever you’d wanted to on a whim, you were ready to call it a day. The freedom was exhilarating, and though you’d done much less that you would’ve on a typical weekday, you felt much more fulfilled than before. You’d eaten a quick informal dinner down in the dining hall, too tired to spend time on a full-course meal, only stopping by the vending machine on your way back to your room for a drink.

You inserted your money into the slot, pausing for a moment to look at your choices. Ginger ale would be good, you decided absentmindedly, your thoughts already drifting elsewhere. When the drink rolled out of the machine, you stooped to pick it up before preparing to leave. You turned and, not realizing there was someone behind you, ran right into them, your arm bumping against theirs. The impact knocked the can of ginger ale out of your hands and you quickly bent down to pick it up before it could roll away.

“I’m sorry, that was my fault.”

You straightened up to see the man from the elevator. He rubbed his neck sheepishly, an apologetic smile on his face. He was close enough that you could see the curved bow of his lips and the way his eyes crinkled in good humor, the way the tips of his ears were red in embarrassment at having knocked into you.

You blushed at the close proximity between you and the stranger, before remembering your manners and shaking your head lightly, “No, I’m sorry, it was my fault as well. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

The two of you stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say or what to do, until the man’s eyes landed on the room card in your hand.

“Suite 1009? What a coincidence, my friends and I are right next door. Want me to walk you back since we’re—you know—going the same way?”

You gave a little startled laugh, finding a bit of comfort in the fact that even a man as good-looking and confident-seeming as him could stumble over his words in situations like this. You’d pegged him for the type with an air of arrogance, but his voice held a sort of genuine sincerity and modesty along with the charm you’d expected. “Of course, I’d love that.”

As you walked down the corridor together, he seemed to realize something, and started in surprise, “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name’s Jaehyun. Jung Jaehyun.”

“I’m (Y/N),” you smiled. “It’s nice to meet you. Is this your first time here?”

“Well, yes, my friends and I were planning to go somewhere for the summer, and one of my friends recommended this resort. How did you tell?”

“I used to come here a lot, but I haven’t visited in a while. I came back to escape city life, I guess, though I must admit I missed this place tons. The things adult life takes away from you are just plain cruel.”

“I know right? Sometimes I wish I could just go back to seventeen and—”

“Relive that teenage dream?” you finished.

He laughed. “Yeah, exactly.”

“That’s what everyone says.”

“What, don’t you agree?” he looked at you in feigned shock.

You looked up at the ceiling as if searching for the answer in the lights above. “Yes,” you said truthfully, “I do agree.” Though it wasn’t exactly how you felt completely all the time, there was no denying that at least you’d loved the various aspects teenage years had to offer.

“You sound almost cynical about it.”

“Do I?” you shook your head. “Oh, well, personally, maybe, I guess?”

He gave you a weird look. “Think you could sound any more unsure about that?”

The two of you burst out laughing, the sound echoing against the walls of the hallway. As you chatted with Jaehyun, there was an undeniable tingle at the bottom of your stomach, spreading to the tips of your finger and your rosy cheeks. You didn’t know if you were willing to fall in love again, especially after your previous failures and bad encounters in romance that extended beyond your last relationship, but there was no denying that Jaehyun was fun to be around and you enjoyed his company immensely.

So when you both arrived at your destinations, you almost felt sorry to go. You lingered for a second, turning to him almost hesitantly.

Of course you’d see him again, being next-door neighbors for the next few weeks or so, as long as he’s here, but you didn’t want to leave and be all alone by yourself just yet.

Jaehyun seemed to feel the same, and he paused. “So, see you soon?”

You started to respond with a definite yes, but didn’t get a chance to answer. The door next to yours opened slightly, and some inaudible conversing trickled out from the crack. You caught a few words in the back-and-forth as you stood by your room, an amused smile at your lips. Jaehyun rolled his eyes, clearly used to this type of behavior from his friends.

“Oh, don’t mind them. They’re always like this.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “They seem fun to be around.”

“Yeah, yeah, when they’re not nagging twenty-four-seven at me to get snacks for them.” Though you could see by the teasing grin on his lips that he was only kidding.

Jaehyun’s friend pushed the door open a little more so that the conversation became more distinctable. And then, a sudden recognition made you freeze in your tracks. Your heart dropped. No. No way. The smile fell from your lips, replaced with a rush of confusion and near-disbelief.

Was that…?

You heard his voice before you saw him.

“Jaehyun! You’re back, just in time—”

Brown hair, plump lips, and bright, playful eyes. His boyish features evolved into something more mature but not unlike its younger version, still lined with the same youthful innocence as years before. He was taller too, though in that moment, at first glance, you felt as if it was the only significant change in him. The familiarity jolted awake a feeling you had not felt since long ago, flipping back the pages of yesterday until it landed on a distant memory that seemed so close yet was so far away. It was like the world stopped spinning for a moment, freezing in time that had both given and taken so much from you.

Your stomach twisted with a mixture of fluttering anticipation and dizzy uncertainty.

Why here, of all times and places, did you have to meet Kim Jungwoo again?

Kim Jungwoo, who was your first love, but also your first heartbreak.

It all started the summer before your high school sophomore year, with an ice cream date as friends and a piggy back ride. You and Jungwoo had known each other for years, having met in elementary and developing a close bond over time. Though you each had your own separate friend groups, outside of school, the two of you often hung out together and spent time at each other’s houses. It wasn’t abnormal for you to have dinner at Jungwoo’s place—because your parents often went on business trips and rarely ever cooked even when they were home—and it certainly wouldn’t be a strange sight to see him on your couch, watching TV and snagging snacks from the basket on the coffee table as he waited for you to finish up your homework so the two of you could go out to the nearby park. It was practically routine when, two weeks after break began, he asked you if you wanted to go down to the beach with him and get some ice cream along the way. You texted back a quick “yes, of course” before flopping back onto your bed and blinking up at the ceiling as if in a dazed dream. And for some reason, you thought hard about what to wear.

It was an issue you never had to concern yourself with before. Jungwoo had seen you in your pajamas, bed hair and all, random mismatching clothes you’d thrown on in a hurry, and even ridiculous costumes you wore as a kid. He’d seen you down in your lowest low, face a mess with puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Heck, he probably knew all your embarrassing moments by heart and could recite them on a whim. But recently, you’d started to feel more self-conscious around him, and as days passed, you found yourself standing in front of the mirror more and more, holding up different tops and pants in an attempt to decide which would look nicer. A few years ago, you would’ve laughed at the thought. You? Fussing over clothing for Jungwoo’s sake? Ridiculous, you’d never needed to. But now, it seemed that the fact that he was a boy—and a very attractive one too—just sank in, and suddenly you became all too aware of it.

After shuffling through your wardrobe for ten full minutes, you finally ended up with a closet strewn messily with discarded options and clothing racks and an outfit you dimly recalled that Jungwoo had once expressed his liking for. You’d chosen a pair of thin, spaghetti sandals that were lined with gold, a gift from one of your mother’s shopping sprees, and made an effort to brush your hair neatly to go along with it all. Good enough, you supposed, as you turned left and right to check up on your appearance. Hopefully.

You grabbed your phone and keys, scribbled a note for your parents that you doubted they’d even read, and made your way out the door. Jungwoo was waiting for you at the front, standing casually by his car with one hand in his pockets. Your heart beat faster as you approached, the continuous drumming resonating within your chest and ears.

He’d been looking down at the pavement, scuffling a stray pebble around with his toes, but quickly lifted his head at your footsteps.

“Hey,” he greeted, smiling up at you.

“Wow, looking unexpectedly grown-upish today,” you lifted an eyebrow, trying to mask your nervousness in his presence with the usual snarky remarks. You spoke with a heavy hint of sarcasm, meaning that you were only joking about the matter, but what you said was true in a way—Jungwoo did look nice, though you weren’t about to say that aloud to him. It was as if you’d just noticed how much older he’d become, and how much more matured he looked.

“Really,” he said flatly, though his eyes were crinkled in good humor. “You’re the only one in the dark then.”

You laughed. “Because other people still call you an adorable baby?”

“Haha, so funny.”

You settled into the passenger seat beside Jungwoo and watched as he leaned over to put the vehicle in ignition. His hair had grown longer since his last haircut a few months ago, and they fell over his eyes. He shook them out of his face, reaching up a hand to brush away any remaining strands that stuck to his skin. He turned to grin at you before switching over to your favorite radio station as he started to drive. You tapped your fingers to the beat, and not a minute later, the two of you were singing along to the familiar tune. Jungwoo’s voice soared up and down as he sang in a weird mock accent, and you tried hard to keep your own from trembling with uncontrollable laughter. You both knew that Jungwoo was an amazing singer, but even more so a natural at comedy.

Jungwoo parked the car a few blocks away, deciding that trying to find an open spot in the crowded beachside lots was too much of a hassle. Summer had lured many people out with the promise of good weather, and combined with the dazzling scenery of the sea, who was to say no? The brightness of the skies was all too infectious, your mood soaring like the winds above that cast a blessing of gentle coolness upon the world. It was all so perfect that you’d even surrendered to Jungwoo in a water fight, although quite begrudgingly and continuing to splash in his way afterwards.

The sparkling waterdrops glittered midair like multifaceted diamonds so that although knee deep in water, you felt almost as if you were living in the midst of a glowing fairytale. After spending some time among the rolling waves, the two of you decided to walk around a bit and let the warm air dry your clothes before going to the ice cream store. Morning went by all too quickly, and soon noon had arrived. The sun shone brilliantly overhead, the pavement burning at the soles of your shoes. You grimaced at the heat, hopping slightly to avoid getting scalded and wishing you’d worn something that wasn’t so flimsy and thin. Jungwoo seemed to notice your discomfort, glancing your way worriedly.

“Are you okay?”

“No,” you groaned. “But thanks for your concern.”

He stopped as if to consider something, then squatted down in front of you. “Here.”

“What—” you started in surprise, caught off guard by his sudden action.

“Come on, I’ll carry you.”

You thought your face couldn’t get any redder than it already was, but you swear it just did.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to. It’s my fault anyways. I should’ve worn something more suitable,” you managed.

He grinned up at you. “Yeah, you probably should’ve, but that's what I’m here for, right? Moral and well—physical—support when you make those beginner mistakes.”

“Argh, you bastard,” you half-huffed, half-laughed, whacking his shoulder lightly with one hand.

“Hey! I’m just trying to help here.”

Caught up in the slight back-and-forth, you’d forgotten entirely about the source of it all and let out a strangled gasp when a red-hot pain shot up your feet.

“Yeah, it’s not up for debate at this point. Come on, just get on already. Grab on tight.”

With surprising strength, Jungwoo hoisted you up upon his back, his arms wrapped firmly around your legs to secure you in place. Instinctively, you reached over to cling onto his neck like your life depended on it.

“Gosh, not—this—tight,” he choked out, and although you knew he was half-joking, you mumbled a laughing apology.

You were tense at first, afraid to make a single wrong move. But after a while, you felt tired of staying so still and uptight like a board and relaxed some more. When the sun’s rays stung at your eyes, you laid your head sideways against Jungwoo’s neck, your breaths falling together in the same even rhythm. He hummed a tune you did not recognize, probably another one he’d just made up randomly, and you smiled.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you replied innocently. Just thinking how ridiculously likeable you are.

You wondered if Jungwoo could feel, through the thin fabric of your shirt, the pounding of your heart at his back, the same way you could smell the scent of the salty sea air and his favorite cologne on him. Raising a fingertip, you traced a heart lightly against his skin. He flinched. You held back a laugh. You’d done it right on his most ticklish spot.

He wouldn’t be able to tell, what you’d drawn and what you felt toward him, but at that moment, it felt like a nice secret, nestled comfortably within the confines of your heart. Maybe you’d tell him one day, when the time is right. You’d like to.

The ice cream shop of Jungwoo’s designation was just up the street. Apparently, it had opened just a while ago and, according to Jungwoo, he was dying for you to try some of their flavors. You didn’t have a favorite place you preferred, so you agreed without any conflict. As the two of you neared, you held on for just a little bit longer before hopping off reluctantly and fixing your clothes. You wished it didn’t have to end, that the two of you could stay that way forever, snug in each other’s embrace.

But it all changed when you walked inside the store.

The interior was neatly organized, with pastel-colored walls and light brown tables of different sizes scattered around the semi-spacious room, most of them occupied by other visitors. A long counter spanned the back of the shop, most of it built-in glass cases that displayed a colorful array of ice cream in their silver tubs. A couple workers stood behind it in sky-colored uniforms, occupied with a variety of tasks and tending to customers.

You breathed in softly, taking in the scent of chocolate and vanilla and an assortment of fruit. The air around you was cool, and you were immensely grateful for the air conditioners that made the atmosphere so welcoming after spending a long time in the sweltering sun.

“It’s nice here.”

“I know right?” Jungwoo grinned. “Just wait until you taste their ice cream. It’s the best.”

There was quite a line at the counter, and your skin itched with the particles of sand that had stuck to it uncomfortably. Your hair was wind-blown and a tangled mess atop your head, and you felt conscious of the fact that you probably looked like a mess. “Hey, Woo, I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Alright,” he gave you a thumbs-up. “I’ll pick out something for you. I swear you’ll love it.”

“Okay, thanks,” you laughed. “I’ll look forward to it then.”

After fixing up your hair and wiping yourself clean with a paper towel, you felt semi-presentable and headed out of the restrooms to find Jungwoo. You didn’t see him at the tables nor in the line, but in the close distance, almost hidden from view the rest of the shop but clearly visible from where you were standing, caught your attention.

Jungwoo.

Except he wasn’t alone.

A pretty girl around your age stood by him, donning the uniform of the store workers. She seemed to have just gotten off her shift and was loosening her hair from the ponytail she’d previously kept it in. Jungwoo was chatting animatedly, and she laughed at something he said, then shot back with her own response. He reached over and engulfed her in his arms, swaying her from side to side almost exaggeratedly.

There was a familiarity, closeness, in the way they interacted, and as you watched on, you felt your heart slowly clench tighter and tighter until it felt impossibly suffocating. Was this what heartbreak felt like? An ache so terrible and soul-splitting that you couldn’t quench no matter how hard you tried.

At the side counter, they were still going at it. He grabbed at her to kiss her cheek, but she turned away, pushing herself out of his grasp. He made a few more futile attempts, to no avail, and the two of them burst out laughing, her high, lovely one mixing in with his lower, boyish baritone.

You looked down, and wished you could just disappear into a hole. When you returned to the table after you made sure the commotion in the front had died down, Jungwoo was already waiting with the ice cream. One for him and the other, your favorite favor. He handed yours to you, but you found that you didn’t have the appetite for it anymore. You managed to muster up a feeble “thanks” and a strained smile, staring at the cone in your hands.

“What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t see Jungwoo’s expression, but you could hear the concern lacing his voice. As if he wasn’t laughing so merrily just a second ago.

“Nothing,” you replied, staring at the table. “I should probably go now. My parents said we were going out for lunch today.”

“But you said you didn’t have any plans,” Jungwoo said, confused.

“Well,” you shrugged, “It’s really my mom’s. Anyways, see you later.”

The bell jangled behind you as you exited the shop, the sound not as cheerful as it had been just a while before. A rush of hot air greeted you, but the stinging at your feet could no longer compare to that of the pain in you.

“Oh, okay. See you.” You could still hear his disappointed voice, although you couldn’t fathom just why he wouldn’t be glad to have some time with his girlfriend without you there as an awkward third-wheeler.

You didn’t see Jungwoo again that summer.

TO BE CONTINUED.

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[i-will-physically-fight-you]

Faith, Trust and a Little Bit of Pixie Dust

Title:  Faith, Trust and a Little Bit of Pixie Dust

Summary: It’s cold in the cellar, but then if it isn’t cold it’d defeat the whole purpose of a cellar. This coldness had been fine at first, but the longer Logan and his little brother Virgil stay, the more it worsens. Logan just hopes his mother’s temper wears off soon or else the cold could get fatal. 

The last thing Logan expects is for his father, who he hasn’t seen in years, to show up through golden portal (a magic portal, which should be impossible!) to save the day as if he hadn’t abandoned them to this fate by leaving all those years ago.

Pairings: Brotherly Analogical, Parental Loceit

Word-Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Magic, Child Abuse, Physical & Emotional Abuse, Unhealthy Romantic Relationship, Hypothermia, Alcohol, Death Mention, Morally Grey Janus, Crying, Angst With a Happy Ending

This fic was at times both frustrating and fun to write. I have no plans to continue this fic, but you can ask me questions regarding the ‘verse and I’ll answer them. Janus has good intentions in this fic he’s just bad at expressing them and we’re also seeing this from Logan’s pov.

--

It was cold in the cellar. Then again, it would be rather alarming were it the opposite case. Cellars were historically used to store perishable items such as vegetables and meats in a time before refrigerators existed. Still prolonged exposure to such an absence of heat wasn’t good for any human being. Not without proper clothing or heating methods. Something both Logan and his young brother unfortunately lacked. 

At first with just a t-shirt and jeans it’d been fine. A bit chilly but fine. What Logan hadn’t accounted for was a cold front to settle in unexpectedly. Within an hour, it dropped by forty degrees. His little brother Virgil wasn’t fond of physical touch. Yet the young child clung to Logan for warmth. It wasn’t enough. His skinny frame still trembled, his lips turning blue. Logan himself felt the effects of his body trying uselessly to warm the cold environment around them. Still his bit his lips from shivering, desperate to attempt staying strong for Virgil.

“I-I-I’m s-s-scared.” Virgil cried, digging his head into Logan’s shirt.

I...I know.” Logan said, stroking his brother’s hair gently, “Things are...things will be alright.”

Logan had repeated this statement many times already to Virgil. Each time he grew less sure of it. However, he knew he had to remain strong for his brother’s sake. Ever since his brother was a baby, Logan had to grow up faster. Much faster than even before. Sometimes he resented this fact, but never for long. It was simply the way things were.

“C-c-c-can you tell me a story?” Virgil asked, and of course Logan obliged. For he knew the unspoken words in that request: I’m still scared. Can you make it less scary? 

A story, for both the listener and teller, would be a beneficial distraction. Even though Logan was not a good storyteller. Once he did a short story assignment in middle school and received a C. His heart metaphorically sank at the sight of it and he dreaded going home that day. Virgil always seemed to appreciate his stories. Although praise from a kindergartener wasn’t worth much in the literary world.

Through frozen lips, he told a meandering story to his little brother. Sometimes his brother would ask questions or offer suggestions, abruptly changing the direction of the story. Logan himself barely remembered what it was about. It was as if someone else spoke through him as his mind drifted to other ideas.

It’d been dark for a long, long while. Usually his mother would’ve unlocked the door by now. She’d insist he’d make dinner while complaining of a terrible headache.

 It was an unending cycle. His mother would do her best to stay sober and function as an adult for a few weeks. Then her mood would increasingly sour, little things piling up into an avalanche. It was hard to tell at times what would be the trigger. The one thing that made her slam open the alcohol cabinet and drown a whole bottle of vodka. 

She wasn’t a nice person when drunk; hence the whole being-locked-in-the-cellar. Eventually after a few days of heavy drinking, his mother would come to her senses. She’d lock the alcohol cabinet and claim she’d never drink again. A lie nobody believed but herself.

Perhaps the lie was done in good intentions. His mother always insisted she cared for her children, in ways their father never could. 

“He’s a snake, Logan,” She hissed once, banging her beer heavily onto a coaster, “A dirty, no-good deceiving snake.”

Logan said nothing. He had only a few memories of the man. Once, when Logan was nine years old, he showed up on their doorstep. He held a bouquet of roses for Mother and a much belated birthday present for Logan. It’d been one of the happiest he’d seen Mother. He stayed with them for a few days. He listened to Logan, complimenting him on his extensive knowledge about dinosaurs. The three of them went to a carnival together. For a fleeting moment, Logan had what the others kids at his school had; a family. 

Then it ended with tears, arguing, door slams. Mother yanking him by the arm and leaving everything behind. Nine months later, Virgil was born. His father wasn’t there. Nor did he ever show his face again. A bitter, festering part of Logan despised him for that.

Mother acted like she cared at times. She’d purchase Virgil and Logan expensive gifts. Things she couldn’t afford without a credit card. She treated them to ice cream and insisted on giving them hugs. She never understood that Virgil found tactical touch without permission distressing. She’d brush it off, making remarks he simply needed to get used to it. 

At times Logan allowed himself to pretend these niceties would last. He pretended his mother was a flawed human being who mostly did good by her children. He pretended the slapping and hair-pulling didn’t exist, that the cellar was just a cellar and not a place to fear. It was hard to pretend these things were true, when the reality became increasingly harder to ignore.

Virgil fell asleep in the midst of this. Logan hadn’t realized this at first. His tired mind plunged on, continuing the nonsensical story.

“Then Batsy the Bat escaped the Witch’s dungeon. He flew as fast he could, to warn his friends...ah. Virgil what do you think their names should be?” Logan squinted, the dim light making it hard to see if his brother’s eyes were closed or not, “Virgil?”

His brother slumped against him, his breaths long and labored. Logan frowned, shaking his shoulder, “Virgil?!”

Virgil made a grumbling noise, “What?”

“You need to stay awake. You--you can’t fall asleep right now.”

“I’m tireeeed,” Virgil complained.

“I--I know, but please. It--it isn’t good to sleep right now.”

“Why?”

Logan’s throat constricted, “Be--because well. I haven’t finished the story yet.”

It was a lie. The truth was that sleeping could be a dangerous thing for a hypothermia victim. Sleeping could lead to death. He couldn’t tell his brother that. He refused to let Virgil experience more fright than he already had in his short life.

“Okaaay.” Virgil said.

Logan continued with the story, pulling all his concentration into it. Yet it wasn’t enough to keep Virgil awake. He kept drifting off, unable to keep his eyes open. At one point his brother down crying.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He sobbed, repeating the words over and over.

“It’s alright, you’re okay, everything is gonna be--gonna be,” Logan stammered, struggling to force the word out, “okay.”

It was then that Logan knew they couldn’t remain in the cellar any longer. He’d have to overcome his one true fear for the sake of their safety and survival. What he feared even more than his mother, was losing Virgil. Logan was smart. He knew the odds of a kindergartener and a high school sophomore staying together in the foster system was slim.

He had been selfish to allow his mother to continue tormenting Virgil. It was wrong. Now both him and his brother were paying for it.

Logan could fix this. He just had to pull out his phone and call emergency services. He had to call and resist his foolish fears of his mother and separation from his brother. With one arm still tucked around his brother, he pulled the phone out of his pocket. A battered, beaten thing he’d purchased with his first paycheck. His mother was completely unaware of its existence. 

He pressed the power button on as he gathered up the courage to call. Except the screen remained completely blank. He pressed it again, this time harder, hoping it’d been a fluke. It wasn’t. Again and again, he kept pressing the button, irrationally hoping for a different result. 

“No,” Logan swallowed heavily, “no, no, no this cannot be happening--” “Logey?” Virgil hiccuped, his big glassy eyes staring up as his older brother with concern.

“It’s okay, Virgil,” Logan murmured, “It’s okay, It’ll be okay--”

He couldn’t say the words any longer. Not when a sob wracked his throat, his vision turning hazy with tears. He couldn’t be strong any longer. He was weak. His heart beat faster, the chasm in his stomach deepening. His little brother said something, but he couldn’t hear it. All he heard was his mind mocking his failure. Shrill and scorching like his mother.

StUpID DiD yOU ThINK ThAT wAS GOING TO WORK?

You and your little brother are going to die and it’s all yOUR FAuLt

UsEleSS

Not EVEn YoUR OwN FATHER WAntED YOU--

“Hello? Whoever is contacting me at this hour better not have a good reason.”

Logan’s thoughts jolted to a halt. What? He glanced down at his phone, but it was still battered and dead. Virgil looked just as confused and lost as he felt. He hid his face in Logan’s shirt, whimpering softly.

“Who...are you?” Logan croaked, doing a poor disguise of covering up his breakdown moments before.

“I think that is perhaps a question I should be asking you.” The strange voice replied. It was definitely emanating from the phone, but how Logan had no clue. It made no logical sense.

“I--I don’t know.”

“You don’t know your name?”

“No! I mean of course I know my name! I mean, you can’t be real--I must be hallucinating.”

“Oh?” The voice responded with a touch of some unidentifiable emotion, “this must be your first time then.”

“First time what?” Logan snapped, a headache starting to take form. He regretted raising his voice when Virgil let out a cry. He murmured a soft apology to him, attempting to ignore how cold his brother felt.

“Is there someone else with you?” 

“No,” Logan said, before hesitating, “I mean perhaps.”

“Perhaps?”

“You still haven’t responded to my question from before.”

“Let me broker a deal then. I’ll answer your question, if you tell me who you and your companion are.”

“Okay,” Logan shakes his head, wanting to laugh hysterically. What in Newton’s three laws of gravity was going on? Surely, he died. He died and this was some last minutes of brain activity occurring. Scientists after all, know very little what happens in one’s last moments of life. Nothing could quite prepare him for the answer the voice gave him, however.

“Well then, to quote a popular misguided piece of media, ‘you’re a wizard, Harry!’” The voice said, the verbal jazz hands evident in the voice’s dripping, dry wit. Something about it was painfully familiar.

“What.”

“You asked, I answered,” The voice chuckled, “now it’s your turn.”

“My--my name is Logan,” He said, blinking rapidly, “and my little brother..ahhh...oh! Vi-Virgil is here with me.”

“Logan, that’s your name? You’re sure?”

Logan frowned at that. Of course he was sure. Or was he? It was getting rather harder to focus. Or to breathe even. The crisp cold air hurt his lungs. Virgil slumped heavily against him, complete dead weight in his unconsciousness. Oh. That was bad. He knew that was bad. 

“Logan?!” The voice yelled. Hmm, it sounded like they’ve been yelling at him for awhile now. He should acknowledge them. He nodded before pausing. Wait. He needed to respond verbally.

“Y-yes?” 

“Finally. You seem like you’re doing absolutely fantastic,” The voice told him. 

“Do I?” Logan asked, “I do not think I’m doing ‘fantastic’.”

“Where are you?”

Logan rattled off the address. Then he very casually added, “We’re locked in the cellar.”

“WHAT?!”

“It’s-s-s-s a punishment,” Logan shivered, his eyelids drooping against his will, “it’sssokay.”

“Yes, because all parenting books recommend disciplining your children by locking them in a cellar.” Maybe it was just Logan, but he got the impression the voice was being sarcastic. 

“I need to cut the invocation call. I’ll be there soon.”

“Wh--how-hy?” Logan said, trying to speak three words at once. The voice didn’t respond. He tried shaking his battered phone as if that would do anything. It did not do anything.

The air frizzled in front of Logan. A golden spark appeared, expanding until it was one big golden shimmery oval. Logan stared at it, blinking rapidly. This was absurd. He most definitely had to be hallucinating. The golden oval ripples as a black fedora emerged from it, followed by a face and then a whole body.

“F--father?” Logan managed.

The man before him was older and dressed in strange clothing. Slivers of silver hair poked out from his hat, nestled among the chestnut hair. An unfamiliar gruesome scar ran alongside the left side of his face. But he recognized those hazel eyes anywhere. He stared at them at the mirror every morning.

He didn’t respond to Logan. He took a few steps before collapsing beside the huddled forms of Logan and Virgil. His gloved hands reached out, but he did not touch them. His mouth opened, but no sound came out of him. Then his gloves covered his face as he inhaled deeply. He removed them from his face, his expression carefully blank.

“I’m here.” He told Logan, extending a hand towards him, “and I won’t leave you or your brother this time.”

Logan stared at the yellow gloved hand before sluggishly panning his gaze up at his father. He didn’t know if he could trust him, let alone if he could trust that this was reality. But god, he wanted it to be real. 

So cradling Virgil close to his chest with one arm, he took hold of his father’s hand. And then, with a bright flash of light, the cellar was empty.

-

Logan felt warm. A drizzling, dribbling, dripping like maple syrup down a fresh stack of buttermilk pancakes type of warmth. He should be alarmed by this for some reason, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be. Instead he made a contented noise, shifting closer to it. Someone chuckled, running a calloused hand through his hair. Logan stilled at the touch, the warmth evaporating from his veins. He waited for the fingers to grow taunt around a tuft of hair. For the harsh cacophony of his mother’s voice to rain down on him like hail. Nothing.

“Are you asleep, Little Tesla?” 

The air in his lungs evaporated. Only one person had called him that and it certainly wasn’t his mother. As much as she expected him to receive good grades, she hadn’t been one to nurture his interests in 20th century scientists.

“Father?” Logan whispered.

“I’m here, I didn’t leave, just like I said I would.”

He opened his eyes to find his father was indeed there. Sitting on a wooden chair with sunken eyes as if he’d been awake for hours. Logan laid on a bed with silky sheets and an impossibly warm comforter. He had just barely enough to cover him--most of the blankets had been stolen by another small figure. Virgil. His little baby brother was with him, asleep and curled up in a small ball.

“Wha--” Logan started to say, until everything hit him. The cellar. The strange bodiless voice. The gleaming gold portal. Father. Darkness.

“Yes, yes, I know it’s not at all a lot to take in, but you have magic. And you found me again, just like I’d hope you would.”

“Found you?” Logan asked, a hardness to his tone, “Assuming this isn’t a hallucination, you left me with h-her, you never came back and suddenly because I possess magic, I’m what? Worth something?”

“Yes, no!” His father cried out with a frustrated growl, “Listen, Logan. My relationship with your mother was extremely healthy, as I’m sure you can agree. Not unhealthy in the slightest. When it ended, your mother left a lovely parting gift.”

Here, he rubs a hand against the facial scar almost absent-mindedly, “I wanted to find you, I searched everywhere, but your mother is smart and covers her tracks well. I’m...sorry I couldn’t find you or your brother sooner. You’re important to me, magic or no magic.”

“How can I trust you?” Logan asked, “How can I trust that you’re not anything like her?”

He expected his father to be upset by the accusation, but instead he just smirked.

“You’re good to be suspicious. It’s a good trait, don’t ever lose it,” He said, adjusting his gloves, “I can tell you, that I will not harm you or your brother. I can say I will teach you magic, if you desire. I can let you know that I will let you walk out the door with your brother, and you won’t ever have to see me or your mother again. But you have no true way of trusting a man that has, from what you know, abandoned you completely until just now. 

“You have two options. Either accept you cannot completely trust what I say is true and proceed with caution, or you can leave with your brother, find a way to support the two of you. You’re smart, Logan. I trust you could figure it out.”

Logan swallowed. He was indeed smart--or knowledgeable enough to know there was little choice in the matter. He was just fifteen. He can’t support Virgil and him--not legally anyway. It’d be difficult to cover it up. Child Protection Services would be on them in a matter of weeks, if not days. 

Good case scenario, they stayed together in the foster system. Bad case scenario, they ended up separated. Worst case scenario? They ended up back at their mother’s, because they don’t believe either of Logan’s or Virgil’s claims and the cycle continues without end.

So, his father. He was the only option, and he knew it. As much bitterness as Logan held for the man, there’s also yearning in equal spades. He used to spend nights crying for him with his mother yelling at him to shut up. Sometimes she’d beat him for it, telling him his father was never coming back. Then he’d snap back that she was wrong and he’d prove Logan right by coming back. Until little by little, he stopped. 

He couldn’t trust his father, the man even admitted it. He just had to hope it’d be better, even though apparently the man believed in magic. Logan was doing his best at the moment to deny it existed. It couldn’t exist, last night had to be a fluke of some sort and even if it wasn’t, it was too much for him to focus on at the moment. 

“As long as I have your word that you won’t intentionally hurt Virgil and I, we will stay with you.” Logan says, before offering his hand towards his father.

Father took a look at the extended hand, eyes softening, before clasping it, “You have my word, Logan, that I will not harm you or Virgil as long as you remain in my care.”

They shook on it. Logan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in and then--and then, his vision blurred. A sob and then another erupted until he clenched his teeth, holding the rest back. For the second time within twenty-four hours he had shown weakness. First to his brother and now, now to his father who above all he should show no signs to. But like that creative writing assignment in the 8th grade, he completely failed.

Somehow halfway the handshake got turned into an embrace. His father hugged him, a calloused hand softly carding through his hair once more. 

“Shh, Logan, you’ve been so strong, stronger than most. You won’t have to be strong alone any longer. Let it all out.”

Logan didn’t know what to think of his father’s words. It wasn’t like a set of logical propositions or a step-by-step formula for science. He couldn’t know for certain if they were genuine. But in this moment, he was but a little boy with his father back. So he dug his head into his father’s chest and finally cried. His father, in turn, did not berate or beat him for it. Instead, he held onto his son as he whispered reassurances all the while.