#as soon as I read ‘puns’ on rhea’s I knew I had to have her interact w hyoma bc I hc him as loving terrible puns

[andro-dino]

lil messy, but I had this idea

I just think the idea of Kazuo, being the token adult here, having to babysit this chaotic group of children is very funny

ocs here belonging to @qloof @kyoyasleone @lady-lazagna @zeno--clio--chalk @appie00 @mason-ajar @artisadieside

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter XXVII: Reflection

I

For the past couple weeks, I spent my days in bed. Alternating between short meals, bitter pills, and glass after glass of water. When I did manage to get up, the fever and dizziness took hold. Slow movements piled onto the notion that at any moment, I would collapse.

An unfamiliar experience; the chills were nothing new, but with all of the added conditions, there was more than cold. When I spoke, the sound and taste conjured images of clouds of chalk dust. Breathing alone was difficult enough, as every other inhale and exhale risked a dry, painful cough.

On the day it went away, I found myself awake. That old, familiar cold reclaimed its place as the defining condition. If the rest of me had reclaimed its strength, it didn’t show.

When I sat up, the others outside of the room came to mind. What they might have been up to. How vulnerable I had been. Vulnerable and weakened. None of the occupants brought harm to me, nor did I have reason to suspect that they would. While the others could have bade their time as they deceived me, lulling me into a false sense of security, that possibility was slim, now nonexistent, as I had survived my illness. Yet ‘trust’ wasn’t the right word.

But I would like to trust them, if it were possible.

Ray and Sunny left me alone during that time. I respected that. Demetria didn’t, which I didn’t respect. But then she helped me, even when I attempted to push her away. So I guess that was something similar to trust.

My behavior wasn’t ideal. It was a shameful display, to say the least. Yet she didn’t give up on me. I even allowed her to bring a doctor – an entity that I didn’t trust. That doctor in particular wasn’t as bad as the ones I’ve dealt with in the past, but she was still unnerving.

Dr. Cold-Slob or something like that. Back when Sunny and I brought an unconscious Ray to her hospital, It should have been a done deal to just drop him off and go. But then she stared me right in the face with a death glare that rivaled my own.

“Don’t just dump someone on the floor. That’s not how it works,” she scolded me.

“Yeah, Remora, couldn’t you be careful with my husband?” Sunny then joined in. I shifted my focus, unsure whether to focus on Sunny or this horror doctor.

“Uh, I dropped him off. Isn’t that good enough?” I managed to ask. Should have been an innocent enough question. But she then saw who I had brought, then looked back up at me and had the most sinister smile.

“If you want to make it out of here unscathed, I’m going to have you mop up these floors. Then, after you’ve done all that, as long as he’s not busy, you may visit him,” she instructed, with a voice and look that said I had no choice but to visit him. In the end, it was fine enough, since I needed to discuss my plan with him anyway, but I would have been fine waiting at least a day or so.

Doctors had always been frightening, but in a different way. Those men with their empty, laughing faces.

“Look at you, so frigid!”

“We’ll find a cure for you sooner or later, Rhea.”

Back then, I was much more naive. I never meant to give up on seeking a cure for my condition, and I was much more willing to seek out a solution from any avenue I could find. They got a kick out of it and told someone else with my same name and face the same tired routine. Many times they would say that they were on the verge of a breakthrough, that if I continued to hand them much of my money, they would find a solution.

It never came. Of course not.

For a while, I drank snowberry tea: a poisonous berry that was said to induce sweats and a lightheaded, dizzy feeling. It was only a temporary solution, though, and when the cold returned, it was even stronger than before.

Despite such false hopes, I was rid of one illness. It was all thanks to Demetria, that person I once regarded as an overbearing pest. I never was much for regrets: sure, I ended up hurting Sunny’s sister, but my actions had a purpose and her tears were just an unintended consequence. I could have said that I regretted being born, but I didn’t have control over that, so it would have been ridiculous to me. Still, I regretted the way I was toward Demetria during the time I was sick.

Now that I was better, I wanted to be the friendliest version of myself I could be. I wanted to be among everyone else. It was tiring, and I knew it was a futile effort, but I wanted so bad for some kind of connection. It was enough to make me think that maybe I didn’t have to be so cold all the time after all.

“You should know better. You’re not the type who can be around others. The only time you feel alive is in the heat of battle. That’s what you know. Trying to be any different is just living out a fantasy,” a voice in my thoughts told me. Someone with the same voice as me.

“Fine, then. Let me live out a fantasy,” I told the voice. Then I near-pleaded with it, “just let me have it for now.”

But I knew how right that voice was, because she was me. Those were my thoughts. If nothing else…

At last, to the one who had helped me, I wanted her to know. She deserved that much.

It was the orphanage who gave me my name: Rhea Flection. For the first few years of my life, I immersed myself in the books of fairy tales they had available. Princesses, fairy godmothers, magic, and wishes coming true. My wish, of course, would have been not to be so cold all the time. I’m pretty sure that’s what I’d wish for as a kid. It’s not like it wasn’t a problem back then.

Because of the constant chill, I ended up attached to the works of Hans Christian Andersen, his story ‘The Little Match Girl’ in particular. That story was the one I could relate the most to: it was about a little girl who was forced to sell matches out in the freezing snow. It had a happy ending, too, one where the little girl froze to death, and in heaven, was reunited with her grandmother. It made me wonder if there was something like that waiting for me as well.

During one of my readings, I was interrupted by a little boy who wanted to play toys with me. He wouldn’t stop, so I turned and bit the same hand he used to poke me with so hard that it bled. Then I went back to my book, peace at last.

That peace didn’t last, and soon the headmistress came up to me.

“Is it true you bit [insert generic boy name here. Maybe it was a pun name]?” She asked.

“Yeah. He was bothering me,” I answered.

“We don’t bite people just because they bother us, Rhea,” she informed me.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not how we solve our problems. We either get an adult or talk it out. Now go apologize,” she tried to explain to me. Not that it made any sense, seeing as it solved my problem. Still, I did so. He sat down and cried a great deal while holding a cloth wrapped around his hand.

“Sorry. You must not have noticed I was busy. Now you know better.”

In those early years, I was known as a “wild child.” Not just in the orphanage, but in foster home to foster home. Despite the fact that I was quiet and kept to myself, did all that was asked of me, I still had that reputation. People thought me weird when I asked for more blankets, and always had my arms crossed while hunched over. My lack of expression was seen as creepy by child and adult alike. Other kids would make fun of me, and soon they acquired injuries.

One day, two men came up to the door of the current house I occupied, and the foster parents already told me that I was on thin ice (ha, ha. Very funny). They had fancy suits, dark sunglasses. Offered the parents more money than they could turn down. So I left with the men. Of course I did.

“We understand you better than others. We know your potential,” they would often tell me. Then, each day, I ran up and down a mountain. No food or water until I reached the top, and again at the bottom. I obliged, however hungry I was, as the hunger and the cold was my only focus.

Soon after, they would show me guns of different calibers. Despite how restless my movements were, I was still when I aimed at the targets. Precise in my aim, being able to pinpoint on what I needed to. When I fired, I didn’t flinch, no matter how intense the sound tore through my ears.

“Good job!” They told me as they smiled and clapped. They often said the same thing back when they had me run. I wasn’t sure what effect they expected it to have.

We were always on the move, never staying in one place for very long. I rested in the back of their cold, metal truck. They laughed when I asked them for blankets, or to turn the heater up.

“It wouldn’t do you any good,” they told me and snickered. I should have listened, but I hoped for a chance. Just one moment where I could experience warmth.

Each place we visited, we ate large meals at restaurants and cafes. They talked about how I should eat as much as I could to prepare myself for what was to come. I didn’t have to be told. All I could fit into my mouth, I ate: large steaks, baked potatoes, steamed cabbages. Anything else I could get my hands (and mouth) on.

Soon we arrived at an empty facility. There there was the obstacle course in an open field, what they claimed to prepare me for. I had to run through it, with a rifle in hand, while avoiding turrets and landmines which emitted sounds when I got near. They told me I could hide behind the barriers which were erected to avoid getting hit by the turrets. That carried its own risks, though, as if a landmine was near a barrier, I’d have to be careful not to get too close. I could also shoot the turrets before they fired if my reflexes were quick enough.

That first time through, my stomach growled.

“You may eat once you’ve completed the course. Understood?” They explained to me.

Not that I understood, but they didn’t give me a choice, so I nodded. Once I ran through, my heart pounded as I listened for the beeps of the landmines. Soon the pounding dissipated and was replaced by a stillness. Even when the turrets rose from the ground, I shot them down before they had a chance to fire. I would jump, keep my distance, and as careful as I was, I didn’t stop.

Near the end, my leg was grazed by a lone turret. Just before that, a landmine set off, and although I had avoided it, part of the blast still burned across the bottom half of my leg. Then the turret came, and I felt the sting as it broke my skin. I turned and fired back, but the damage was already done. When I limped to the exit, I received a lukewarm congratulations.

“Good job,” the two men clapped. “But you got injured. If you were any less careful, you would have died. We don’t want that for you. You mean more to us than that. So we will have you do this again in a few days, and you better not take any damage. Understood?”

“What about my current injuries?” My voice quivered as I looked up and asked. Then I glanced at the bloody leg, which was an inconvenience at best.

“You must learn to tend to your own wounds. There are medical supplies and textbooks you may refer to at the facility.”

I didn’t object. They answered my question and gave me a solution. That was all I needed.

After the second course, I sustained no injuries. More courses followed. Each course was cleared in a faster time than the last until the whole thing was broken down into a series of rhythms and patterns.

When I first cleared the course without injuries, a certain rush came along with it and the cold became less noticeable. However, after I had the pattern down, that rush dissipated. They took notice, and proposed something new.

“How would you feel about taking a life?” They asked me one day with a slight smile and a rough emphasis on the word ‘feel’, as if they already knew the answer. I, however, didn’t understand the question.

“What would I need a life for?” I asked in response. If one were to take a paintbrush, they would expect to paint with it. What application was there for taking a life?

“He means to kill someone,” the other one answered with a heavy sigh. As if I needed the attitude.

“Oh. What purpose would that serve?” I had one question answered, but still didn’t understand the action.

“It’s a chore. Like doing the dishes, or sweeping a floor. Some people just need to die. It’s a big responsibility, but we trust you to do it.”

“I see.”

Whether or not I understood, I agreed, doubtful if I had a choice.

“You never forget your first time,” was a phrase I would hear later on. Yet forget I did. It all amounted to a series of featureless faces blurred together. Once alive, then not.

One assignment I recalled in pieces: me atop a snow mountain. Three or so men. All who were to be ‘taken out’. Two shots fired, each of them in succession. Each in the middle of their foreheads. Down they dropped, blood sprayed onto the two survivors. Alarmed and in shock, they turned and saw me. So I ran, down from the summit and saw a diner, not unlike Ray’s.

My pursuers/targets shot at me, but missed due to anger or possible fear. I was far enough ahead of them that I went into the diner and spotted the manager right away.

“There’s these bad people trying to kidnap me!” I wailed with the most distress I could muster. The manager took pity and told me to hide behind the counter. She then got out a shotgun and as soon as the men came in, shot them herself.

There was a panic throughout the diner, but I paid it no mind and went on about my way. The manager didn’t have time to react to my exit. After I completed the task, my guardians came up and had a new proposition.

“You’ve been bought out by a company,” they informed me. “Think of this as an opportunity: these people pay good money for their assignments. You could end up making more than the richest of men could even conceive of.”

“What need do I have for money?” I asked, disinterested. “As long as I can eat, I’m fine.”

“We understand that, but you’ll find that in many of places you’ll visit, food costs money. Besides, you don’t really have a choice.”

They didn’t have to rub that last part in. It was an unnecessary detail.

Nevertheless, I was taken to the company. Once there, I was escorted by more men in fancy suits. There I was, still a child, and all around me were various shapes and sizes of people much older than me. Much more weary, with empty faces. As I passed them by, I heard them murmur and point my way.

“She looks like she just got a bucket of water dumped on her head.”

“She’s acting like this place is a walk-in freezer.”

“Never mind that, she’s a whole-ass fridge.”

They could say all they wanted. While I could have fought them all, solved that problem, it just wasn’t worth my time. So I ignored it while walking toward the office, where the ones in charge greeted me.

Like the guardians before, the ones who oversaw the assignments wore fancy clothes. Suits and the like. Nondescript features. None of them looked well-equipped, unlike the people they recruited. Aside from protection in the form of their technology, they were vulnerable. Especially if they were caught off-guard.

“Greetings, Rhea!” One of them smiled wide and flailed their arms in what seemed to be their attempt at a friendly gesture. It didn’t fit them at all. “I’ve heard so much about you! I look forward to working with you!”

“You won’t,” I corrected. “You’ll just be giving me jobs to do. That is your role.”

“Yes, well…” Their gaze shifted to the floor.

Next, another one of the overseers stepped forward and gave me a rundown: I would be assigned missions. Most, but not all of them, would involve killing. I would be given the necessary equipment and sent via teleportation device to the time and place required to do the job. I could enjoy some time to myself before the next assignment. When I was allowed to return to the facility, there was a spare room which I could sleep in.

“Do you understand?” They then asked.

“Yes,” I confirmed. One of them then escorted me to my room. Some small, cramped space which resembled a jail cell more than anything else. Wider than a metallic locker only by a margin. Not that I cared what it resembled, so long as I remained undisturbed.

“Oh, I forgot to mention, but we set up an account for you so that once you complete an assignment, your money will go there. You may withdraw from that account at any time. Oh, and before I forget, you’re allowed minimal contact with others. Unless told otherwise, you’re to stay in your room. Okay, I think that about covers it, sound good?”

It didn’t. Neither cover everything, nor sound good. But there was no point in objecting. It was what it was.

So again it went: missions went by, a total blur. Quiet, efficient, that was how I liked to work. But without that rush, of course a restlessness crept back up. Over time, I made small attempts at freedom: dyed my hair blue. Wore jackets. Came up with various names, in case I started to develop a reputation with one, I had another to fall back on.

Years went by as well. Changes in my body. Large muscle mass, a taller and bulkier frame. All for the life I knew. I should have been content.

Restlessness was what laid the foundation: I voiced to them how I desired more of a challenge. Something that wouldn’t be so simple. In other words, a hunt.

“You’re in luck,” they told me, a gleeful smile without the voice to match. “There’s a contract that just got put out for a man who lives in the woods.”

“What’s the challenge?” I asked. Their smiles stretched, with their only reply being:

“You’ll find out.”

Without a second thought, I accepted and warped there. It was some remote place in Alaska. Finding his cabin didn’t take long, and I crept against the side, ensuring I didn’t leave a sound.

Soon, I heard him speak. He sounded relaxed, and seemed to be telling someone something. “Looks like I’ve got some business to take care of. I’ll be back in a little bit,” were the words I made out. He may not have known I was there, but his words suggested otherwise, so I slipped off into the thickets of the trees. I watched from afar as he exited the door and took a few steps forward. The soft, snowy ground would have given his footsteps away. As well as my own. He then called out, “I know you’re there. Come to kill me, have you?”

That confirmed one suspicion, but I didn’t answer his question.

“I get it: a job’s a job, right? No hard feelings? You don’t care what you have to do as long as you get your money?” He called out again, and that time I made the mistake of answering him.

“Wrong. I don’t care about the money, either. I’m just doing this because I want to,” I told him. The next thing he said made me more wary.

“I see. I know where you are now.”

As I aimed my rifle, he disappeared from view. Questions filled my mind about how it was that he was prepared for such a battle all while I maneuvered around and took behind trees.

His footsteps gave him away as he charged from one end and fired off a barrage of shells from a machine gun. I held up a miniature barrier device and blocked the shots, but he charged, clad in heavy armor. So I dashed to the side, split my rifle into two, and blasted away with the miniature guns that spawned from the rifle.

My shots had no effect against his armor as they all bounced off or disintegrated upon impact. At that, I charged as well, then went in for an uppercut, but he blocked my fist with his own hand. If I hadn’t tossed a few explosives and ran, he could have thrown me back into the snowy ground.

The chase was on and I was at a disadvantage. He sprinted behind me. Soon his sprints turned into a slow walk. He approached where I was. Despite being taught to continually run, I laid still under a pile of leaves and snow.

“Would you go so far to follow a company that doesn’t respect you?” He asked. He waited for my answer, and when he didn’t receive one, he continued, “I take it you’re new to this. You look young. You probably think you’re above it all, but the truth is that they’ve got you were they want you.”

As he lifted one foot from the ground, ready to move on, I jumped up from my spot and with a blade attached to my arm, I tried to slice up his face in half. His reflexes were too fast, and he turned his head just in time. All I managed to do was cut off his ear. He didn’t so much as yell, just wince, then he grabbed my arm and held me up. In his other hand was a blade of his own, some thick sword that seemed to resemble a meat cleaver. He was about to strike when I kicked against of his armor with enough force to knock him to the ground.

Before he could get back up, I grabbed my rifle and shot him in the face. No hesitation. It was over.

There was that rush, but it ended too soon. It still wasn’t enough.

When I walked back to his cabin, there was the shape of a little girl through the window. Nobody told me he had a daughter, I thought. Worse yet, she ran outside. I was ill-equipped for such a situation.

She looked up and asked if I was the person his father had business with. I nodded. She then asked where he was. I simply told her, “gone.”

She didn’t understand and still expected him to come back home later in the day. Unknown to her, I was her father’s killer, and she stared at me with an unwarranted expectation. I reached into my pocket for my phone, looked back down at her with my indifferent expression, then I dialed emergency.

“Hello. This little girl’s father just died. Can you come pick her up?” I requested as if I was ordering a pizza.

“Who is this?” The operator asked. “Can I get a name?” Such an unnecessary request. I should have just been able to inform them and that would be that.

“Misty Eyes,” I came up with a name on the spot and relented. “I’m just a stranger who happened to be in the area.”

Rather than wait for someone to show up, I fled the area until I was a considerable distance away. When I received word from my employer, I warped back to the organization’s facility. They all congratulated me, but I only looked at them with disgust.

“Good job, Rhea,” they told me. “We knew you could do it.” Those words ware far too casual for what they had me do.

“You didn’t tell me that man had a daughter,” I informed them.

“You didn’t need to know,” one of them told me.

“On the contrary, I did. I also wasn’t informed anything about the target, why it was they were a target in the first place. From now on, I need whatever information is available for each assignment,” I laid out my demands.

“Does it make a difference who he was or if he had a daughter? A job is a job, and it needs to be done regardless.”

Jeez. And here I thought I was the cold one. Where I stand, they’re much worse.

“It does. If I knew, I could have had been more prepared. I could have adjusted my strategy. I don’t care whether the person was good or bad, but there are factors which should dictate how I go about the assignments. His daughter wasn’t the target, just him.”

“You want to know who he was? Smith Weston was his name. He worked for this company, dedicated his life to it. He knew that if he deserted the company, others would be after him to execute him. It was his own decision to raise a child. But you’re right,’ one spoke with a shrug. ‘His daughter wasn’t the target. You could have done whatever you wanted. Killed her, spared her, whatever. So long as the target’s taken care of, that’s all that matters.”

“So the same thing would happen to me if I chose to leave one day?”

“Look, Rhea. We like you. You get the job done and you don’t ask many questions. But don’t get the wrong idea: you’re not exceptional. You’re dependable, but you’re neither the best nor the worst we have. You’re easily replaceable, and if we need to, we would find someone to kill you as well.”

I soon came to find out just how replaceable I was. One day as I walked to my room, a man stopped me. To my misfortune, it was just about the worst man it could have been: Douglas Fir. I’ve heard rumors about him: Infamous sleazeball. Well known in brothels across time and space. Tried to get any woman within range to sleep with him. With his unkempt beard, greasy fingers, and his trench coat, he already gave off a terrible first impression. Not to mention the alcohol on his breath.

“Whoa, there! Look who it is! Didn’t think I’d see you ‘round these parts. I heard you were off on a mission!” He bellowed. I turned. He had a stupid grin on his face. My face held one of confusion.

“I don’t believe we met,” I told him.

“Aw, c’mon, girl! Don’t be like that! You’re my favorite plaything, after all!”

“Plaything? You really are a slimeball.”

“Wha –?” He shook his head with a clumsy smile. “I’m a nice guy, really. You just gotta ease up around me!”

I didn’t know how to respond next. He leaned over, his intruding gaze made it seem like I was some article of clothing he wanted the measurements for. Disgusting.

“So that’s how it is, huh? You’re her substitute? Ha! That’s great! Two Rheas I can tease!” He slapped his knee, like it was a riotous joke. In turn, my brows creased as I gave him an icy glare.

“What are you talking about?” I hissed.

“Oh, so you don’t know? That’s even better!” He hollered.

“Tell me what you’re referring to before I smash your face in,” I growled.

“Whoa there! Chill, girl! Ha! Get it? Chill? Oh, man! I crack me up!”

I ground my teeth, then pointed to my fist.

“Oh, all right! The big boys probably don’t want you finding out, but me? I don’t give a rat’s ass! Hell, it’s more fun this way! If I were you, I’d be downright elated to find that there’s another you here! Not only that, but the other you? She’s the first one. You’re just her backup!”

He continued, his fist slammed against the adjacent wall as he worked up a storm of laughter.

“Haven’t you ever wondered why they keep you isolated? Or why sometimes you’re allowed here, but other times you’re not? They probably got a system so they can make sure the two of you aren’t in the same place!”

“I’ve never wondered such things. They were never important,” I disagreed with him.

“Of course you’d say that!” He cackled, mixed with a series of belches and coughs, then walked off.

After that exchange, I went up to the ones in charge.

“Is it true there’s another me?” I demanded to know.

“So you found out, huh?” They asked, disinterested in my revelation. “Indeed, you aren’t the first. That title belongs to one a few years older than you, one who is wiser and more experienced. You also may not end up being the last. But for now, there’s you, then there’s her. You shouldn’t worry too much about it.”

“I’m not,” I disagreed. “But why not bother telling me?”

They shrugged a collective shrug.

“You might have been interested in seeing her, if you were to know. One of the laws of multiple universes state that if a person were to be in the same timeline as another version of them, one of the two would have to die.”

“Then, are there others in this company who have alternate versions of themselves?”

“You are the only one. You should consider yourself special – the whole reason we decided to recruit you when we already had one of you prior is because while the other Rhea is greater than you, she’s also not immortal, and we don’t want good talent to go to waste. You have potential to be just as good as her, if not greater. Not to mention, lately we’ve noticed that she’s grown complacent. We trust that you won’t have that problem. We know you to be responsible.”

Those words were crafted in such a way that despite my apathetic nature, it still gave off the desired effect: I grew to resent this other version of me, this version I could never know, never meet. With it, came a sense of pride, that whether or not I cared for the job, it was still what I knew, and I vowed to surpass her.

In spite of it all, I told myself that I already knew they didn’t really value me. That I was no fool; it just didn’t matter, because I didn’t value them either.

That was the history I wished to convey to her. That useless recollection.

I sat up on the bed and rubbed my eyes. Just as I did so, a series of taps were made against the bedroom door. Although I opened my mouth, I made no sound. No “come in,” nor “leave me alone.”

All the same, the door slid open. Any other time, I would have been annoyed, but the one who entered was the one I awaited, her wavy green hair being the first thing I made note of. Then it was the way she walked in, less a saunter and more of a silent tip-toe.

“How are you feeling?” She asked. Every day now, she asked the same question. Aside from the dull nothingness I always was, my state had improved with each passing day. Still, would it have killed her to change up the questions?

“Better. Thank you,” I spoke. It felt like air, but I knew there was a sound attached. With how clear my words were, it came as a shock.

“Good. I’m glad,” she replied, and began to turn away. If that was the only reason she came in for, I would be cross. She could have just texted me in that case. But I didn’t want a reason to be annoyed. Nor disappointed.

“Wait,” I told her. With the way it came out, it sounded more like a plea. That was no good. My voice really must have still been a little weak. “Sit. Please.”

Now it’s like I’m talking to a dog. How nostalgic. If I recall, when she first entered the diner, I referred to her as a dog. Odd now, how I didn’t seem to see her that way.

“Where am I supposed to sit?” She looked around, then at me.

Damn. That was a good question. I didn’t think that far. Unlike her own room, there wasn’t a chair or a desk. Seeing no other option, I answered:

“On the edge of the bed. If you need to, you can lean against the wall.”

My words came out as an unintended command.

Still, she sat. There I was, someone whose words were never a mistake. Yet there I was, lost.

“So, what’s up?” She asked, sounding perplexed.

I held my palm against my forehead and shook my head.

“First, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for the trouble that I’ve caused,” I began. I couldn’t recall the last time I gave an apology.

“Oh. Don’t worry about it. People’s mental states aren’t really at their best when they’re sick,” she smiled, but it didn’t look deceitful. “Even if you meant those things, I still wanted to help you.”

“Why?” An automatic response on my part.

“Why? Because you’re worth it,” her breath became more of a gentle breeze. Aside from the upward crease of her lips, I couldn’t focus on her face, even with her close to me.

“I’m not worth it, though. I never have been,” I thought to tell her. But I didn’t. For just a little while, I wanted to live in a world where I deserved the help.

“Thank you,” I replied instead, then glanced at the door. “Um, can you close the door?”

There was still the matter of Tigershark barging in, but maybe if Tigershark saw the both of us sitting on the bed, she’d understand, and leave us alone.

“Sure,” she shrugged her shoulders, then got up. Once she sat back down, I looked around the room. I could only manage to view her in fragments, as my heart thumped, as if to warn me of something.

“I think it’s time I allowed you to know about me,” I let the words slip out at last.

“You don’t have to do that,” she shook her head. “It’s enough just to know you as you are.”

“I know. But I want to. So please, will you hear me out?” That time it really did sound like I was at her mercy. Some kind of whimper to my voice. Like I could have gotten down on one knee and begged. Was there some residual sickness left over?

“Of course!” She waved her hands and backed away a little. “I just wasn’t expecting it, but I would be happy to hear it!”

There was only one way to begin: by clearing away any ambiguity.

“First of all, my original name is Rhea Flection,” as I spoke that name, it came out foreign.

“Oh, come on! You already played that trick a couple of times!” She dismissed. Of course, she was right to. Simply stating a name wasn’t going to get me very far.

“It wasn’t a trick when I told the doctor. However, I am not the same Rhea that you’ve heard of from others. She existed, she died. That is true.”

I waited for her response. Then she nodded.

“I see. I started to suspect that once I heard some things from Wendy, but I didn’t want to see you that way if Remora is who you are now.”

“Thank you for that,” I tried to work up a smile, but it wouldn’t have served a purpose. “However, in order to understand who I am now, it’s important that you know my origins.”

“I understand. I have time. So, go on.”

All that I recalled, I relayed to her, including how I learned of the original ‘me’. Once I finished, I studied Demetria’s face. She didn’t look like any of those things horrified her, nor did they bring her joy. I left out the last bit. About how my beliefs about my other self. Those stubborn delusions. Hopefully she could already infer that on her own. Then, she asked a question of her own.

“So the other you died because you came to this world?” She hypothesized. I could see how she got there. But it was wrong.

“No, not quite. She died on her own volition. She was assigned to remove your cousin’s wife from this world. Whether that meant killing, or containing her, as long as the job was done, that’s all that mattered. Your cousin’s wife, no, Ves, proved victorious.”

“So then you arrived not long after?”

I nodded. Now it had gotten to the part that neither Ray nor anyone else knew. Yet she was about to.

“Yes, but not right away. I was at the facility at the time. I hadn’t received an assignment in a while, yet was kept there. So I went to go up to the ones in charge. But when I did so, I noticed they were gathered together, viewing a screen. Curiosity got the better of me. I managed to make it into the room without any of them taking notice. As I hid behind a wall, I listened in to their conversation:

‘Such a shame Rhea died,’ they lamented. ‘I really liked having her around.

‘Yeah, but suppose it was bound to happen eventually.’

‘Oh well. Good thing we have another.’

‘We’ll just get her to finish the job the first one couldn’t. Second time’s the charm, right?’

They all laughed among themselves. Something stirred in me, however. I already knew how little I was valued. How I was just a prop, a tool. I didn’t even mind that, but hearing those words just filled me with disgust. I killed because I didn’t know anything else. And they knew that.”

I stepped forward, rifle in hand, and shot one of them. The others turned, horrified. They all fell so fast, before anything could escape their lips.

After that, I couldn’t just leave as things were. I couldn’t stay. I knew that others would be after me. So I set up explosives in the conference room of the facility and sent out a memo to everyone under the guise of management that they were to meet in the conference room for a special announcement. I hid a safe distance away so that when everyone else went over, I could hear the explosion. Afterward, I left. To the Earth where the other me had died. It struck me as the safest of choices, because I was already assumed dead there.”

There. No more secrets. All that was left was to watch as she grew horrified.

But that didn’t happen. I waited for some kind of disgust, repulsion. Instead, she simply said:

“Thank you for telling me all this.”

That response made no sense.

“You aren’t upset? Shocked?”

She put her index finger on her chin and looked up.

“No. It’s terrible, yes. But what I find more terrible is that you’ve had to live through such things. You lost your parents before you even met them. You had trouble adjusting, you were manipulated into being that kind of person. I wish you didn’t have to go through all that,” her words went softer at the last statement. More sorrowful. It wasn’t right. I didn’t want sympathy, I wanted to be understood.

“Yes, I was manipulated, but I must have known, and just didn’t care,” I clarified. “Even before I was made that way, I never displayed an emotional response toward anything. Even though I must have known it was bad, I still went through with it. To me, it was just something I did.” With that, she should have understood that I was not a good person. I couldn’t be, and that there was nothing to like about me.

She nodded.

“You have every right to think that way. But the person I know, the one next to me, at least thinks about their actions. Tries to do better. Saved my life. There has to be some merit to that.”

“No,” the word came out like a squeak. It was weird and out of place. “There isn’t. You say I saved your life, but the truth was anything but. Ray had sent me to investigate a cult in the area. Asked me not to kill, only investigate. I really tried to leave that life behind. But the desire for that thrill was always there. When I heard they had been targeting young women and participated in human trafficking, that was all the excuse I needed. I didn’t even notice you until after the fight.”

“Regardless, I’m still glad you were there,” she replied. “Whether or not I should, I am glad I met you and I do like you.”

I leaned my head back. That tense feeling in my chest tightened. I should have been happy to hear those words, but it was all wrong.

“I came to the world wanting nothing more than to live out the rest of my days in solitude, undisturbed. Nothing more. When you first met me, however, I was both on edge and lost. Without my job, I didn’t know what to do with my life. I had dyed my hair red, I made myself nameless. Through crowds of people, I encountered an aquarium, and I wandered through and stared at the various creatures. To you, meeting me must have been an exciting encounter, but I only regarded you as a strange person who was hungry, then forgot what you looked like.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised by that. It’s not like you were expecting to see me again.”

I let out a soundless laugh.

“Yet that uneventful encounter is why I am Remora,” the realization was amusing. “If I hadn’t looked at that fish, if you hadn’t asked my name, I would have gone on, content not to have one. But I blurted out the last thing to cross my mind, some stupid looking fish.”

She let out a chuckle as well.

“Heh. So that’s why. Well, it’s nice to know I had some kind of impact.”

I smiled. An actual smile. No intent behind it, just a smile.

“You’ve had more of one than you know. Not at first. At first I thought of you as a pest, and pushy, and trying too hard. But you eased up. When I told you I didn’t want you to know about me, you accepted it, as harsh as it may have been. You still wanted to help, and I just didn’t know what to make of you. I’ve really come to appreciate the person that you are.”

She blushed. Visible. Red.

“Um, thanks…” she looked down.

“I’ve grown to appreciate everyone,” now my own words didn’t feel right. When I looked back to how things began with everyone, that familiar stir returned: some disgusting feeling. “But no matter how much I’ve tried, I just can’t bring myself to care about anyone.”

Her face, still red, went blank.

“What? That doesn’t sound right,” she shook her head. “What about my birthday? Or when we protected each other out in the cold? Or when you talked with me after finding out how I felt about you? There’s plenty of examples, I’m sure.”

“I wanted to do something nice for you, yes. For the sole sake of being nice. No feelings attached. If I died, it didn’t matter, but since you didn’t want me to die so bad, I decided not to stop you. I talked with you because it was important to do so, not because I wanted to.”

“If anything that just proves it more. And if not me, what about Tigershark? You protect her, you watch over her, hell, you rescued her.”

“That’s only because I want to make sure she doesn’t end up like me.”

“I dunno, that sounds like caring to me.”

“It’s not, it’s not,” my brain was about to overload. Too many thoughts that smashed into each other. “It’s precisely that I’m not able to care that I want to make sure she doesn’t end up like me. Nobody should have to go through what I did.”

“See, you recognize it!” Her voice raised. Not anger, not quite. Excitement? Joy? I couldn’t tell. Not anymore. If I ever could.

“You don’t understand. You don’t,” I shook my head. At first slow, then faster.

“I’m trying to.”

“Look,” I tried to remain calm. Calm was all I ever was. “You’re important to me. I’ve tried so hard to feel something toward you, and even though I thought if I just kept at it, I would feel something, but it never came. I’m just unable to. But you’ve been patient, you’re someone I wish I could care about.”

“Where are you going with this?” She sounded apprehensive.

Do I even know?

“It’s not a bad thing. I swear. It’s just, if you want me to, I can play along. I can pretend to be your friend. It just wouldn’t be real. Would you be okay with that?” I gulped. I sounded delirious.

She backed away, stood up slow. In a low voice, spoke:

“Why would I be okay with that?” Her face contorted. Maybe she was disgusted.

“Or lovers. I could play the part of your lover. I could never actually be, but it could be close,” It came out in a huff, a hurried mess of words. Still, it should have softened the blow. What blow? I didn’t know.

“You’re not making any sense. Why do you think I want to hear these things? I don’t want pretend anything. I was fine with the way things were, but I don’t want anything else if it’s not going to be real.”

I sat there, backed away as well, back to the wall, against the pillows. Despite my constant shivers, it became less clear whether or not I felt cold.

“I just thought...it’s the least I could do…” My words were reduced to emptiness.

“It just sounds like you’re trying to push me away,” came her reply, a darkened, low mutter.

“It’s not – you don’t understand,” I tried to get her not to go, I reached my arm out, but I was too far already. She was already at the door.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” was the last thing she said. I didn’t pick up on the tone that time.

I slunk back into bed, against the pillow. Open, then shut, was the door. Not a slam. Nothing so loud. Quiet, even.

“I don’t understand…” I whispered.

The room was silent, I was silent. It was just how I always liked to be: undisturbed. Alone.

II

Without opening my eyes, I found my head nestled on the lap of someone I knew. That person’s hand came down and stroked my hair. Slow, soft, sifting motions.

I didn’t have to open my eyes; I saw outside of myself and I saw Demetria. It was as if I saw her through a mirror. There was a serene stillness as I saw her face, downward, yet gentle. Half-closed eyelids which flit about. Her mouth opened, ever so slight, like its sole purpose was to blow into my ear.

“You’re pretending to be asleep, aren’t you?” She asked, and her voice was not her own. It was mine.

“Yeah,” I replied, tired.

“It’s bad to pretend. You wouldn’t like this if you were actually asleep.”

“I know.”

“Or is this what you want?”

“In a sense.”

Then the person changed. It was myself, but an imagined version: she had blue hair, a self-assured smile. Still, the motions continued and I accepted them.

“You would be fine with anyone, wouldn’t you?” She (or I?) asked.

“I don’t know.”

“You can’t just be babied. You know better,” the voice became harsher.

“Just let me...for a little while…” The words fell out of my grasp, along with consciousness.

No. I wasn’t pretending.

“So that was a dream…” I muttered, as I sat back up. How long did I fall back to sleep for? What time was it? I checked my phone. Late into the evening. Without purpose, I scrolled through my phone and the messages I never checked. Most of them were from Ves, the most recent being a few days back, while I was sick and floating in and out of consciousness. Not that it mattered, as I never responded to her texts.

Ves: Hey, I know it’s been a long time and we don’t really talk, but I just wanted you to know that you’re in my thoughts and I hope you’re well.

I sighed. No wonder I never responded. There was nothing to gain from pretending. I got up, ready to head out into the hall, be my real self. However empty that self was.

I’ll tell her that I must have still been a little sick. Because of course that was wrong to say. Even nothing is better than a dishonest something. I know that. So I’m sorry.

When I walked out into the hall, that too was empty. If I had to guess, Tigershark was taking a nap upstairs. Over the past couple of weeks or so, she had been sleeping in Ray and Sunny’s room to try to keep her from getting sick. As for Sunny, from what I heard she had gone off on another adventure.

There, at the desk, was Ray. My movements were stilted as I made my way over to the middle of the hallway, near where Ray was.

“It’s nice to see you up at last,” he greeted, without looking up from his desk. There weren’t any papers. Did he not want to look me in the eye?

“Where is Demetria?” I asked, weary.

“She’s gone. She went back home,” he explained, still not so much as a glimpse my way.

“I see.”

It made sense. There was only so much I could give, and only so much patience she had. It was always going to happen that way.

Across from Ray’s desk, against the wall, was the lone chair that always sat there. I went over and occupied it. From my peripheral, I noticed him look up at last, and right at me.

“It’s not your fault,” he told me. “She’s not mad at you.”

“Wouldn’t expect her to be,” this time it was my turn not to look his way as I gave my response.

Fault or not, I was the reason she first came to the diner, and I was the reason she left.

“She liked me. I wish I could have liked her, too,” I let out those words. Some kind of hollow confession.

“You aren’t obligated to like someone just because they like you,” Ray stated. For what purpose, I didn’t know. To state the obvious? Was that his only purpose now, after all the trouble and trickery he went through to get me to stay at his diner. His facade of a home.

Very well. There was no more danger. Nothing in it for any of us. All that was left was to put a couple more things to rest. So, I pulled out my phone, then began the text.

Me: Hello.

There was more I could have said. ‘Sorry I ghosted you’? Ah, but that sounded too corny. My recipient already saw me as a ghost, didn’t she? So what was there to apologize for?

Just a minute later, I got my reply.

Wow, someone’s thirsty.

Ves: Hey! I was wondering if I would ever hear from you again.

Me: Can I ask a favor of you?

Ves: Um, what’s the favor?

Me: Tell me about her.

Ves: Her…?

Me: Rhea. Your Rhea.

Ves: Oh. What do you want to know?

Me: Why did she have such an impact on you?

Ves: idk there were others who should’ve had more of an impact.

Me: That wasn’t what I asked.

There was a pause.

Why, when you first came across me, that was all you wanted to talk about, and now you want to avoid the issue?

Then:

Ves: Sorry. I needed to gather my thoughts. It was such a short period of time, but it was really tough on me. I was sick, as I mentioned before, and she was sent to put me down. I can’t blame her, as I was a danger to myself as well as my loved ones. During our first confrontation, she almost killed me. I begged, and she gave me another option, but that other option was to have me in the hands of those who have hurt me in the past. There was no good option.

Me: You mentioned being sick before. But that’s not really it, was it? They don’t send someone to kill you if you have a case of the common cold.

Ves: I was. In a way.

Ves: As a child, I was experimented on. Apparently other children were, many of them died. They were placed with the blood of an angel. One which was said to bring happiness. While I survived, I often had headaches, hallucinations, and a short temper. Later on, I ended up ingesting the blood of that same angel, this time as an adult.

Ves: There were all these things I could now do, but along with it, I craved more blood. Every so often, I would throw up blood. Not small amounts, either.

Me: That entity? The embodiment of happiness? Don’t you know nothing good ever comes of happiness?

Ves: I know now. I was just desperate.

Me: She should have killed you. So why?

Ves: I’m not really sure...she could have. Maybe she could no longer bring herself to do it. Before our last fight, she said how it would have been nice if we could be friends, but it could never happen.

Ves: I didn’t want to fight her. She fought me, though. Wouldn’t let it end until one of us died. I think she wanted to die, but felt she could only so in a fight. At one point she told me how I was a disappointment for not wanting to fight, but I think it was an attempt to strike a nerve so that I would get angry enough to kill her.

Me: That was irresponsible of her. It wasn’t just about her, it was about the risk you posed. She should have known that.

Ves: I’m sorry.

Me: What do you have to be sorry for? You’re cured, aren’t you? You got what you wanted.

Ves: She did too. As she was dying, I told her how I wished I knew her more. But she commented about feeling warm at last. She looked at peace.

Me: Is that it? Is that why she had an impact on you? Because of a few fights?

Ves: No. I fought others before. But I felt a connection with her. Like we were similar, each trying to find something. It made me wish I could have been the one to help her, instead of needing help. I regret how it went down, and I wonder sometimes if I could have prevented her death. If there was another way.

Me: There wasn’t anything you could have done for her.

Ves: Still, I feel like if I just tried, she would have still been around, and able to live the life she wanted.

Me: You don’t know that.

Ves: You’re right. I can never really know. I’m sorry.

Me: You know that I’m her, right? I’m not the one you know, but I share a history with her. I share a name with her. Her condition.

Ves: Yes. I figured as such.

Me: So I’m just confused what it was about her. Wasn’t she a merciless killer? Wasn’t she emotionally distant? Detached? None of that should have left an impression. Aside from her condition, those kind of people aren’t uncommon. She should have just been an enemy. That’s it.

...So why, then, did she show you mercy? What was it about you, of all people? I thought.

Ves: But she was more than that, to me. She was someone I would have liked to have as a friend. Even if she may have tried to kill me, she still took her time to got to know me and listen to me. Something I may not have even deserved.

I stared at her text before I continued. Her words made me wonder, if maybe the other me was more compassionate. Someone who had grown kinder over time. Maybe that was what it was that set the two of us apart. What was missing, then? Was she allowed more freedom? Interacted with more people? Grew sick of all the bloodshed?

Why couldn’t I experience any of those things?

I replied at last:

Me: I wish I could have met her.

Ves: I’m sure that would have been nice.

Me: If only.

Ves: You know, I actually wanted to be more like her, like you. While I hid my emotions, you don’t have that problem. There must have been countless times I’ve thought about how I didn’t want to feel anything, especially during the times when my emotions got to be too much.

Me: Why would you want any of this? Do you think I want to be this way? Don’t you think I would cry if I could? Smile, laugh, even anger. None of that is felt. You experience love and care about others, why would you want to hide that?

There it was: always one more thing added which turns the whole thing around. Now I found myself disgusted. With her, with myself. What did I hope to gain by talking with her, anyway? Of course, she just had to have the last word:

Ves: You’re right. I didn’t consider how it might be from your perspective.

Me: Now you know.

Me: That’s all I wanted to ask of you. I’m done.

Ves: Wait. Isn’t there anything else we can talk about? How are you? How are things with the others?

Me: I’m done with them.

Ves: Is something wrong? Did you guys have a falling out?

Me: None of them meant anything to me. I couldn’t feel anything for them. That’s all.

Ves: Please. If something’s wrong, I want to help in any way I can.

Me: Don’t care. Didn’t ask. Goodbye.

Ves: Please don’t push me away. I know that’s what you’re doing because I’ve done it too and it doesn’t help. It just brings more pain.

That again? Twice now I’ve heard such things. Both from naive people who wanted to know me. If I had a nerve at all, it might have been struck.

Me: Don’t act like you and I are alike.

Ves: Please. We’re friends, aren’t we?

Me: Wrong. We were never friends. We both pretended like we. Me, because I couldn’t care less, and you used me as an outlet for your grief. I was willing to play the part for a while, but I knew I was being manipulated.

Ves: It wasn’t my intention.

Me: Doesn’t matter.

Ves: I still wanted to try. I knew you might have been different, but if there was even a chance to know you, I wanted to take it.

Me: Do you ever shut up?

Ves: What?

Me: All I hear are excuses. It doesn’t impress me.

Ves: Fine, then. I tried to be nice. I tried. But if you want to be alone, go ahead. Go ahead and rot. Ungrateful bitch. I gave you a chance, I didn’t even have to do that.

Me: I see. So that’s the real you.

Ves: No. I’m not. No.

Me: Don’t try to hide it now if that’s who you are.

Ves: No. I’m sorry. I just snapped. I didn’t mean to.

Me: That’s too bad. Because I mean every word I say. Goodbye now.

I turned off the phone and looked up.

“Well, that about wraps things up,” I announced. Ray, who still seemed listless, looked up.

“Who were you texting?” He asked.

“The wife of Demetria’s gay cousin. Had to wrap up some loose ends,” I explained, then got up and set the phone on his desk. “I don’t need this anymore.”

He turned to the phone, then looked back at his desk. If he didn’t know the implications, he soon would.

“I’m leaving. There’s no longer any need to be here,” I announced. That seemed to get his attention. He looked up and there was no doubt about it – he was going to try to convince me, no, beg me to stay.

“Goodbye, then,” he instead said in a dispassionate voice. Even his face lacked of interest. It was wrong. Wasn’t he the one who wanted me there in the first place? Tried to convince me to work with him? Didn’t he care? Didn’t I mean anything to him at all?

“That’s it?” I uttered. It couldn’t have been all he wanted to say.

“What else do you want me to say? If you want to leave, who am I to stop you?” His words made sense, but not coming from him.

“You’re supposed to stop me, beg me to stay, anything.”

“Do you want me to?”

I took a step back.

“No, but that’s not the point.”

I started to shiver again, harder than before. Like someone had left the door, or some windows wide open and a great draft had invited itself in.

“Look, Remora: I’m exhausted. Demetria just left. Sunny went off on another adventure just a day before that. I don’t know when I’ll hear from her or see her next. Sure, I’m going to miss them, but they have every right to come and go as they please. So if you want to leave as well, then you have every right to.”

“After all this time? I could have just left? That’s it?”

He nodded.

“If you wanted to.”

No. It couldn’t have been that easy. He must have had some kind of trap, some trick to keep me there. That was the only explanation.

“What about the first time you tried to get me to work for you? When we met?”

“You turned down the offer and that was that. I didn’t pursue it,” he argued, hand on his chest.

“But then I accepted so that you would save Tigershark’s life!”

He tilted his head.

“I told you we didn’t need to make any deal. I helped her because I was concerned about her life. You chose to afterward.”

Damn it. That was true. But why, then, if I didn’t have to? It was obvious, wasn’t it? Because I felt obligated. That was all.

“But then when I left after you manipulated me to go to the place where the other me died, you were the one who showed up at my doorstep and tried to convince me to return. Said I could be leader of your little operation. But now look: you’re back to your position and now you’re saying I can come and go as I please. How does that work?”

He sighed.

“You’re right. I did say and do those things, didn’t I? For that, I apologize.”

See? You admit it!

“Not only that, but you gave me food, you gave me a place to sleep, you tried to protect me, you…” I huffed. “You told me I didn’t have to kill anyone. You listened to me. You tried to correct any mistakes you made. You tried to make me comfortable.”

“And?”

“You...all of you...I tried to tell you that I wasn’t someone to be known, to be liked, and no one listened. They didn’t get it and just kept trying. Made me think that maybe I wanted to be here. That I could be around others. But it wasn’t true. All of you just manipulated me and confused me!” My voice shook and shivered, almost raised. It wasn’t right.

“May I ask you something?” Ray waited a moment before he spoke once more.

“What?” I seethed.

“Why do you think you aren’t someone who should be liked?”

“You would really ask me that? I’m a killer – not was – am! It doesn’t matter whether I’ve stopped or not, that part of me doesn’t go away. I’ve tried to tell you all that I just can’t feel anything. I’ve never been able to.”

“Do you think you’re the only killer who has walked through these doors? I would treat any other killer to the same meals and share a nice conversation with them.”

“But I’m different,” I professed.

“How so?”

“Other people have trauma. They see the face of the one they killed and it sticks with them. Not me. I’ve never had that problem. To me they’ve always been empty faces. I’ve never felt anything when I’ve taken a life. I’m incapable of doing so.”

“And because of that, you’re not deserving of kindness?”

“Yes!”

“Maybe some would agree with that sentiment,” he shrugged. “But I don’t see why I should.”

“Don’t you get it? I can’t feel anything except this cold! I’m not worth it! Do you think I want to be this way? I want to care, about someone, anyone, more than anything, but it just doesn’t happen and it’s because of who I am!”

My fists tightened and shook. My eyes stung. I tried to close them, and still felt the sting. Then, when I opened them back up, I saw Ray. He looked at me, then leaned back, eyes wide.

“Remora? Are you okay?” His voice cracked, it turned to a near-whisper.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I took a step back.

“Let me tell you one thing before you go,” he urged at last. Though ‘urge’ wasn’t the right word. It didn’t sound like a plea. Just something he wanted to say. “Before I met Sunny, I used to think that I didn’t care for a single person outside of myself. There were all of these people and they meant nothing to me. They were fun, at best, and a bore at worst. I was fine enough just doing my own thing, everyone else be damned.

Even a little after I met Sunny, I still didn’t feel much at first. I’ve never had any interest in women, so I figured it wouldn’t amount to anything. But damn it, I’m so glad she’s in my life. She brightens my world to the point that I want to shine at all times. Even when she’s gone, I make sure there’s a home for her when she gets back. I want to make myself a home, and comfort her when she needs comfort and joy when she needs joy. Then, when I met Elodie, I felt it again: there was a life that I wanted to make sure was safe and happy. Had a good home, even if that home wasn’t with me.”

“What are you getting at with all this?” If he wanted to be self-indulgent, couldn’t he have done so some other time? It didn’t make any sense to bring such things up now.

“I believe that if you have the capacity to care about one person, then you can care about others.”

Few of those words stood out. There was his little monologue, then there was the last statement. But how the two connected, I couldn’t tell. My mind was blank. None of the words connected.

“I don’t know what you mean,” my words came out like a whimper.

“It was enough just to tell you,” he replied with a smile.

Whatever meaning there was to be found, every second I remained, I ran the risk of not leaving at all.

“I’ll be going now,” I squeezed out the words.

“Will you be okay out there?” He asked, as if he cared.

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“Please don’t make me worry about you.”

“Why would you?”

He shrugged, shook his head, and let out a heavy sigh.

“You know, I used to think that working with you, spending time with you, laughing together. We could have had fun.”

I turned from him. If I could just step away, maybe I could make sense of myself again.

“I never wanted to have fun,” I told him as I walked away. “I just wanted to rest in peace.”

“Take care, Remora,” he called after me.

Then I was gone. Through each door and out into the cold open air.

Each step I took through the snow brought a heavy gust along with it. There was little way to tell which way I was going, save for some vague notions of lights in the blanketed darkness of the sky. Each step alone was heavy, with or without a breeze. Disorientation was the only comfort I had.

All the better for it.

Alone was how I should have been from the beginning. Whether it be a house I built for myself, or buried deep under the snow. Either was fine.

It stung and bit me in various places. Very little feeling. My teeth would not cease. My vision was dim at best, as was my mind.

At any moment, I might collapse. Maybe I won’t get back up. Maybe I will close my eyes and let it blanket over me. Let the blizzard hit. If that happens, I hope no one finds me. I hope I won’t be saved. So that the process can’t repeat. So that I can meet the end that I should have.

For whatever reason, that never happened. Instead, as I lumbered along the thick snow which seeped into my boots, my body, on some kind of automatic process, followed the lights in the distance. Just small, smudged shades of white, beige, yellow, and red, in a sickening creme. Not distant to be stars, nor did they twinkle. Fade in and out, maybe, but not twinkle.

Why I went toward something so meaningless, I couldn’t say. What moved and the rest of me were two different entities. Then, when I happened to collapse, I happened to stumble through doors and onto a rug laid out on a tile floor.

I twitched.

Someone should have yelled that I was letting the cold air in. That was the reaction I was used to. It made sense. For my part, I was unsure if I could even move. When I tried to push myself up, my arms wouldn’t so much as budge.

“This is fine…” I groaned. Or would have if I had the strength to use my voice. After all that transpired, I could use a good meme to represent my situation. All I needed to top it all off was whatever building I was in to be set on fire.

How long I spent on that floor, I didn’t know. No one seemed to be around. If there were others, they didn’t react to my presence.

Did I find my way into some abandoned building? Or maybe I’m in someone’s home and they’re asleep and didn’t hear the door open. Unlikely, with all the noise the weather is making. Maybe they’re just not home. Or maybe this isn’t a home. Damn it, you numbskull. Just look around and check!

I would have rather just fell asleep right where I lay. But then curiosity took hold and wouldn’t allow me not to look. Even with as difficult as it was, I turned my head and at first, it was all blurred shades that merged in with each other. For what must have been a few minutes, it remained as such. Then, after a few more blinks and a good stare, it became clear.

Little shops. Gates and terminals. Large windows. Booths and stairways. Limitless ceilings. There was no denying where I was: I was at the airport.

I struggled my way up and shambled toward a chair against one of the walls. It still boggled me why no one else was around, but it might have had to do with how late into the night it was. How few people really came around to this part of the world. Gee, I must have been blessed to live in such a place. Blessed until others tried to force their way into my life, that is.

That was all past me now. Not long had I been awake, but with how weakened I still was, I couldn’t resist the urge to just rest once more.

“Now that that’s all taken care of, time to get some rest,” a voice rang through my head. Followed by footsteps. Those footsteps grew louder, and then they stopped. “Oh? I didn’t know someone would be here at this hour.”

Such a syrupy voice shook me from my sleep and I squinted before turning my head toward the owner of said voice. Then I opened my eyes to find some woman with a blonde ponytail and a blue brim hat on, followed by one of those sexy flight attendant outfits. Well, someone probably found such outfits sexy. I never said I did.

“So sorry, didn’t mean to wake you!” She took a step back and started to stammer. I just grunted in response.

“I think I recognize you. You’re Rae Morris, right?”

Rae...Rae...uh…

“Who?” I croaked.

“Ray’s accountant?” She asked, then I remembered that disguise I put on a few months back. My, how time flew.

“Right. Ugh. I’m not really an accountant,” I groaned.

“Really? I could’ve sworn –”

“Rae Morris was just a name. It didn’t mean anything,” I admitted through a dead mutter.

“Huh. Fooled me, then, huh?”

“Yeah…” I looked up. How high up the ceiling was, yet even seeing that felt claustrophobic.

“Didn’t I see you with that other girl who works at Ray’s diner a couple weeks ago?” She asked. I knew who she meant right away: Demetria.

“Yeah,” I then turned my head away from her and looked down at the floor.

“If I recall, you two looked happy,” she commented.

“I wonder if there was any truth to that.”

“So…” She shuffled her feet. “Are you waiting on a flight? I hear the next one’s not for another few hours.”

“I have nowhere to go,” it hurt to admit, but it was the truth. My hands hung off to the sides.

“What are you doing here, then?”

Dammit. Why do you have to ask that?

“I don’t really know. I’m lost,” was my first answer. However, I soon turned to face her. “Or rather, there’s nowhere I can go. Wherever I go, I won’t find home. I go from place to place and it’s never right.”

“You too, huh?” She less asked and more seemed to agree. “You know, I used to live from airport to airport. I now live here and it feels more right, but it took forever, and even then, it gets lonely from time to time.”

“Are you living the life you want?” I asked her.

“That’s a hard one. I mean, there’s still some things I’d like to have and some things I’d like to be better. Isn’t there always, though? It’s just nice to have some of the things I wanted. I always love being in the air, and it’s nice to be away from my mom. I’m also much more comfortable with the body I have than I used to be. It also helps that I’ve got boobs now, however small. Why? What about you?”

I shook my head against the wall.

“Everyone’s always got their own ideas about me. They all see me in these different ways and expect me to act in those ways. To be who they see me. That’s not even to say that I’m different, I just don’t know, that’s the thing. But even if I want to object or do my own thing, I’ve never been able to see another option but to go with them.”

“I mean, I can relate to that as well…”

“You too, huh?” I let slip a chuckle. It wasn’t very funny.

What was funny was that the warmth (I’m assuming, not that I felt it) seeped through the airport and moisture started to form against my eyelids and trickle down. Was the other me aware of such a phenomena? There I went and sat there with all of that internal struggle, yet the other me still managed to come to mind.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been my own person,” I croaked, and the moisture formed once more, ran down to my cheeks, and off of my chin.

“Oh no. Here, I’ll be right back, I swear,” she sounded in a hurry. Good. I didn’t want to keep her. Maybe such a moisture would dissipate and I could go back to resting in an uncomfortable chair.

I coughed as some of the salty moisture got into my mouth. How sick I was. How sick I had been. Not just over the past couple of weeks, but all my life. Feeling nothing but a constant chill. Being taken advantage of. I was never tough, never strong. I was just made in a way that was useful for others. I was right to leave the gun back at Ray’s diner. There was just so much of me that was wrong.

True to her word, I heard her run down the stairs and return. She wiped off my face with a cloth. I should have backed away or slapped her hand away. Or refused to let her. But I was too numb. It was just like how I was when I was made to be a killer. Never once objected. One thought turned to when I used to read those fairy tales, how I would hate for my space to be invaded. But if this was a fairy tale, then maybe I would have wanted her to wipe my face.

“Thank you,” I said at last.

“Don’t mention it,” she replied. “You seem like you’ve had a rough time. Would you like to stay the night?”

I thought about it. Or didn’t. My thoughts weren’t cooperative.

“I would like that,” I told her, unsure if I really would. Just having some place to be, for one night, that much seemed doable.

We walked together up a flight of stairs and into an office. It had been redecorated or redesigned to be a bedroom for the flight attendant. Little plane ornaments and model planes hung around the room, with a bed toward the end which I presumed she slept in. To both sides of me were closets, both open, with many jackets, sweaters, dresses, and other clothes hung. Against the wall was a small kitchen-like area with a sink and a fridge. No stove or oven, but she probably had one of those elsewhere.

“There’s a bathroom down the hall with a shower, if you need one,” she explained. “The airport can be kinda creepy at night when it’s dark and no one around, but I’m pretty sure there’s no ghosts. Still, you can turn the lights on if it helps. I don’t mind.”

“Thank you,” I replied.

She then walked up to me and pulled on a flap against the wall behind me. I stepped back and a bed, a little small and with a hard metal frame popped out.

“It’s not the most comfortable, but we’ve got plenty of blankets, and I’ll give you a weighted blanket. Looks like you might have hypothermia, so might be a good idea to use it.”

“I probably don’t, but I’ll still take it.”

“Good. Also, there’s a snuggie if you –”

“Yes. Good lord, yes.”

“Oh, well, something you’re enthusiastic about,” she remarked.

I looked away. That was embarrassing.

“Go ahead and get whatever food you want in the fridge, help yourself to some water. Mi casa es tu aeropuerto, or something like that.”

I nodded.

“Why are you doing all of this?” I asked, still looking around the room. It wasn’t small by any means, decent sized bedroom. To think that something like that existed in an airport. She shrugged.

“Maybe I’m lucky enough to be able to.”

It was better than her saying she took pity on me, or that I seemed nice. Even if both were true, I didn’t need her to say such things. She then held out her hand.

“I’m Cybele, by the way,” she informed me. I looked down at her hand.

“I’m sorry...I don’t do hands. Er...touch. I don’t like...touch,” I couldn’t quite explain. She reeled her hand back and smiled.

“It’s okay, I get it. I probably wouldn’t wanna go up touching every stranger I met either. As for you, you are…?”

“I’m…” Rhea, was the first thing to pop into my head. Then Remora. But neither felt right. They sounded too close to each other. I wanted to find something that didn’t resemble myself in any way. But there wasn’t anything I could find. “I’m still trying to figure that out. Sorry.”

“I’m not offended. Names can take a while.”

For what it was worth, she seemed like a good sport about the whole thing. It was a shame, as there was nothing I could give for her kindness. All I could do was acknowledge it.

Sleep wouldn’t come at all. Throughout the night, I stared up into the darkness, tried to ignore the hum of the refrigerator, and tried to ignore myself. That was the worst part of all. Rather than disappear, cease to breathe, fade into obscurity and nothingness, I found myself in someone else’s room. It wasn’t right. I had to leave. Leave myself. Before she started to form an impression of me. If she hadn’t already. Whatever mistake I had made, I needed to rectify it, and fast. My heart wouldn’t stop beating, even if I squeezed it tight enough, it just wouldn’t stop.

In the morning, I put the bed back against the wall and closed it shut. But I kept the snuggie, of course. She could pry it from my cold, dead body.

I began to head out, where, I didn’t know. I’d walk if I had to. I just had to find some place that wasn’t where I already was. Before I left the room, however, I heard the yawn and stretch of Cybele and she looked over to me.

“Good morning,” she called in a half-yawn.

“I’m glad you think so,” I tried to sound positive, but with the tiredness in my voice, she may have thought I sounded sarcastic.

“Heading out?” She asked.

“Yeah. I’m thinking of going some place warm,” to distance myself from myself. “Like the Sahara, or Ecuador. Maybe I’ll go to Florida or Spain.”

“Those are places,” she acknowledged. “Sounds like you know where you want to go. Are you going to board a flight?”

“I was thinking of walking, actually,” I replied. Again, not sarcastic.

“No need to do that. Just gimme a bit and I’ll fly you.”

“I’d rather you wouldn’t. Not to be mean. I just don’t want to be near anyone I know.”

“Do you have money to get to one of those places?”

“No. No money.”

“Then at least let me do that much.”

I should have refused. It was selfish of me. But I accepted. After all that time, I still couldn’t help but take from others. Still, it felt exciting. I didn’t know where I wanted to go, but even if I decided on a random spot on a map, it would be my decision. Then, once I’d land, I could lay my head anywhere I wanted and whisper my proper goodbye to anyone who ever knew me.

[roseskiesandbutterflies]

Killer Queen - Chapter 10: Dreamers Ball

Summary: Life is easy when things go your way. I know this from experience. I also know that that can disappear in an instant and that you have to be able to rely on your friends. Luckily my name is Arabella Ruth White and I’m the fifth marauder. But I want to show you the girl behind the mask. It takes a lot of work to be this fabulous, darling. (This story is also on Wattpad and AO3 of the same name.)

A/N: So, I recently binge-read all of Lore Olympus on Webtoons and if you haven’t read it, then I highly recommend it. It’s about the Greek Gods (mainly Persephone and Hades) but it deals with some mature themes just to warn you. The chapter title comes from Queen’s 1978 album, Jazz.

Warning(s): alcohol, drugs, swearing, implied sex

Word Count: 4.3k+ (this was one word off of being 4400 words so that’s annoying)

Inspiration: random headcanons I found on Tumblr and Pinterest, The Boy Who Killed God by SeraMGrigori on AO3, All The Young Dudes by MsKingBean89 on AO3, Sweet Things by Cocomouse on AO3

Taglist: @bhmay @briarrose26

Ask to be on my taglist!

Throwing a birthday ball might just have been my best idea thus far, if I did say so myself, and it hadn’t even started yet. I was gradually walking through the doors of the Great Hall, embracing my dramatic entrance for every little millisecond that it was worth. All eyes were on me, as they should be since it was my birthday and I bloody love attention, and suddenly I understood what brides must feel like when they walk down the aisle. The train of my sparkling golden gown trailed along behind me, leaving a stream of glitter in my wake. It had been both a style choice and a way to infuriate Filch when he had to clean it up. Have fun with that, you miserable bastard. The Great Hall was decorated from top to bottom in gold, gold streamers, gold glitter, gold balloons. It was akin to the Emerald City from The Wizard Of Oz but, well, gold. Anyone who was anyone was among the crowd watching me, providing they were at least a fifth year; I didn’t want little kids at my birthday party, thank you very much. The only ones I would even consider would be Rhea and Luke, but they weren’t at Hogwarts yet and right now, I was grateful for that. As far as I could see, everyone had a glass of amber-coloured liquid in their hand, which I assumed was butterbeer for the far majority of people in the hall. Some minuscule part of me wanted to squirm under all of the attention, but I suppressed it as best as I could. I had a reputation to keep up, after all.

You may be wondering how on earth I got access to the Great Hall for my birthday party, and honestly, I can’t blame you for pondering such a thing. It had been a complete stroke of luck which had come in the form of good old Minnie McGee. I’d been explaining my plan for the ball to the lads during one breakfast back in September, yes my plans for it have been in the works for that long what are you going to do about it, and Minnie had overhead while she was walking past our usual spot. I’m quite sure she has some kind of hearing superpower, even though that particular sense should be decaying with her old age rather than growing. And just in case you’ve somehow found this, naturally, I mean no offence, Minerva, so please don’t give me another detention I really don’t want one please and thank you. She’d then gone on to offer the Great Hall for the party but with three conditions. One, she could go and bring Dumbledore as her ‘date’, two, we served nothing stronger than butterbeer and three, we actually worked hard for our OWLs which were just around the corner. Initially, we all thought that she was joking but it turned out that she was deadly serious (naturally Sirius had interrupted her with his classic pun) and that she was, in fact, rather looking forward to going to a party for the first time in a while. James had then asked if she was on drugs, because quite frankly this was one of the nicest things she had ever done for us, and she came very close to whacking him upside the head for even suggesting such a thing. But she never actually denied it, so I still secretly think she does weed. I don’t know about you, but I can most certainly see it.

Now, as you’d expect, I was rather disappointed at Minnie’s suggestion of a near total absence of alcohol, but it hadn’t been long before Sirius, always searching for an excuse to drink to the point where I often wondered if he was addicted, had suggested something quite marvellous: an afterparty. Such a seemingly straightforward idea quickly turned into something so much more. We decided to hold it later on in the night in the Room of Requirement, and only the elite people knew about it and, subsequently, invited. And by ‘elite’, I mean the male specimens I call friends, the females who I love and cherish and a couple of other people. And that was bound to be very much alcohol-fuelled. As long as I had that to look forward to, I could endure a much more age-appropriate evening, just not for too long.

Finally, I reached the platform where the teachers would usually sit during meals, and bear in mind that I had been milking the moment for way longer than necessary, so this did take some time. I cleared my throat for effect before speaking in an impossibly posh voice, “Thank you all for attending my ball this evening. I won’t talk for too long because I would hate to bore you to tears, I’ll leave that job to Professor Binns. Now, Minnie, don’t look at me like that, we all know it’s true. Look, even Dumbledore agrees with me and you can’t argue with Dumbledore. Moving on, I would like to say a couple of things so entertain me for a moment. One, if any of you are caught drinking anything stronger than butterbeer, then I will happily leave you to face the wrath of our dear Minerva on your own, I have no intention of arguing with any teacher tonight.” A few giggles rippled throughout the crowd as well as a few pouty faces from people who were doing a shockingly awful job at hiding mini bottles of firewhiskey behind their backs. It wasn’t my problem, I did say this on the invites I sent out, if they chose to go against that then they would deal with the consequences, not me. I continued, “Two, I hope you all enjoy yourselves tonight and remember, it ends at precisely eleven o’clock, which means don’t hang around. Frank and Alice, I’m looking at you.” The couple in question blushed furiously and Alice gave me a death stare that could rival the one I get from Remus when I gather enough courage to steal some of his chocolate. I then clapped twice to signal the official start of the ball and music began to blast from the speakers I’d linked up to my record player which was enchanted to start playing a record whenever I clapped my hands.

It took a second, but people were soon dancing and mingling and doing whatever else people do at parties. I made a beeline straight for the boys but ignored their greetings, instead, I grabbed two, I wasn’t sure which ones, and, hoping that they were all following if they weren’t being dragged, marched over to the drinks table. I let go of whoever I had been holding to pour myself a much-needed butterbeer, but in a wine glass because I’m classy like that, leaving two boys to rub their arms in pain.

“Bloody hell, Ruth, you could have just asked us to come with you, that really wasn’t necessary,” Remus muttered as he got his own drink.

“Why is your grip that damn strong?” James pouted, whining like the little child that he is.

Sirius just smirked evilly, “I think we all know where she gets her practice with her grip.”

Naturally, I wasn’t going to have that, so I swatted him on the arm as if he was a fly, but then I decided that that just wasn’t enough, so I kicked him in the shin. Not too hard because I was feeling nice for some strange reason, but you get the idea. He then howled suspiciously like a dog, causing us all to give him strange looks that pretty much read dude what the fuck.

Sirius, then desperate to change the subject to literally anything else, went on to ask, “Ruth, are Snivellus and his mates supposed to be here? Because I don’t have a problem with physically throwing them out,” he shrugged.

I sighed, knowing my response wasn’t going to be immensely popular amongst the group. I muttered quietly, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes, “I invited them.” As expected, I was met with outcries and protests from the cloud of testosterone surrounding me, such as but they’re such pricks and why would you want to infect your own party with the human equivalent of the goddamn plague, so I was quick to defend myself, “I didn’t want to! It’s just that Lily said that she wouldn’t go if I didn’t at least give Snivellus the option. But then I worried that he’d hang around Lily the whole time, and I wasn’t going to allow that, so I invited a couple of his friends too. I didn’t think they’d actually show up though,” I peered over Peter’s shoulder to observe him talking to Lily, grimacing at his choice of outfit if you could even call that monstrosity an outfit. I’d specified in the invites that you had to wear muggle ballgown-wear and you had to make it yourself using magic. I guess blood supremacists don’t even want to wear muggle-style clothes these days. They really are that shallow and it surprised me how Lily couldn’t see that.

Sirius huffed and made a comment that sounded like it should have come from James’s mouth instead of his, “Fine, but only because Lily is a treasure and I’m also terrified to death of her.” When he was met with blank stares for the second time in five minutes, he blushed furiously, only just clocking what he had just revealed.

I smirked at him, “Since when were you such good friends with my dear Lily?”

It was just a widely accepted fact that the girls weren’t huge fans of the boys, and while those attitudes weren’t reciprocated by the other side, it was practically unheard of for the girls to be anything more than civil with the boys. Well, only if you don’t count Lily and Remus’s strange friendship. I’d often promoted a union of sorts between my two friendship groups, holding out in my firm belief that some epic bonds could be formed if they just tried, but I was usually shot down with objections of but they’re arrogant toe rags. I think that that’s complete and utter bullshit but each to their own, I guess. I just carried on in the hope that one day they’d come round and see how silly they were being.

While James was appearing to have a mental breakdown right there and then, Sirius slowly explained, “Since a couple of weeks ago? I went down to the common room because I couldn’t sleep and I found Lily and she looked quite upset, so I asked her what was wrong, thinking she would just tell me to piss off or something, but she just burst into tears and she told me a lot of stuff that I won’t tell you because I think it’s private. Anyway, long story short, we had a rather profound conversation at two in the morning, followed by a couple of games of chess because neither of us wanted to go back to bed. We’ve had some rather thought-provoking conversations in Charms because we sit next to each other this year. She’s actually really cool.”

I grinned broadly at him, “This is what I’ve been trying to tell you for four whole years!” We then high-fived because why the fuck not. Remus gave us a look of wholehearted betrayal, which is understandable because he had been assisting me in my quest to get them to appreciate Lily properly, so I gave him a high-five too, and so did Sirius. Then Peter and James high-fived for no reason other than they were feeling left out, as they should be. So, we all looked like fucking crackheads already but that was to be expected of us.

“Anyway, just because Sniv is allowed to be here, doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to fight him the second he does something fucked up, right?” Sirius asked.

“You and I both know you’ll fuck him up regardless of whether I allow it or not, so yes, yes you can. In fact, please do.”

***************

By around midnight we were drunk off our asses in the Room of Requirement, the civilisation of the ball long gone. It was total carnage, although you probably worked that one out for yourself, but it wasn’t all bad seeing as my two friend groups don’t try to murder each other every five seconds when under the influence of my lovely friend alcohol. Most of us were sprawled out on various sofas, still in our ball attire, with Hunky Dory playing on my record player at a much lower volume because our drunk asses couldn’t deal with too much noise. I was lying on a sofa with my head in Marlene’s lap and my feet in Dorcas’s while James and Peter shared a sofa. Alice and Frank were, as I had predicted earlier on, making out in some darkened corner, thinking that they were being subtle because no one was gawping at them. In reality, the only reason we all refused to look was because they were being more than a bit gross and no one wanted to see that, to be frank. Pun absolutely intended. Dorcas didn’t drink because of her religion, which meant she was the only sober one in the room, and that meant it was her job to make sure we didn’t get ourselves killed or anything like that. Lily was actually a bit tipsy, but only due to Sirius’s incessant nagging that she was missing out on the finer things in life. I mean there were certainly finer things than knock-off elf wine we smuggled in from Hogsmeade, but Lily didn’t need to know that. Meanwhile, Sirius was stumbling on a table he’d conjured for this exact reason, wearing Marlene’s stiletto heels and ranting about society’s many problems as he usually did when drunk. Tonight’s topic was for discussion was feminism.

“But why is the world like this? We shouldn’t just accept it for how it is! Shouldn’t we try and change it or something?” he slurred, finishing his drink and promptly refilling it with his wand. Several amens could be heard from almost everyone in the room, as is what happened every time Sirius made a point. It was strongly reminiscent of the church service my mum would drag me along to from time to time.

“Sirius, not that I don’t agree with you, but maybe you should get down before you break your neck?” Lily suggested, looking at him in sheer terror.

He just pouted down at her, “I will only get down when the patriarchy falls, and you girls don’t have to live in fear of boys who have the audacity to call themselves men!”

“If a boy comes anywhere near me, I’ll just smack him round the face, I don’t give a shit,” I piped up, swinging my hand around as if I was actually punching someone, and coming very close to actually hitting Marlene in the face.

“That’s alright though because self-defence and shit,” James grinned at me, running over to clink his glass against mine, then running back to his sofa and sitting down as if nothing happened, leaving me confused, to say the least.

“Has anyone seen Remus?” Sirius suddenly changed the subject. When all he got in response was shrugs and confused looks, he started walking up and down the table like it was a catwalk, shouting, “Remus! Remus, where are you, you little shit? Remu-” he suddenly fell straight off of the table but stood up and brushed himself off as if he hadn’t just nearly died, “Reeeeeeemuuuuuuuus!”

“I think he’s with Idania. I don’t know where though,” Peter offered.

Marlene and I gave each other a knowing look and bumped arms, “I think we all know what they’re getting up to,” she raised an eyebrow at me suggestively.

“Ooooooh, Remus you saucy boy,” I snorted, making James cackle so much that he fell off of his chair and also making Lily fake-vomit so much that I was seriously expecting her to actually throw up right there and then.

I think it’s important to update you on the whole Idania-Remus situation. It’s been a tricky one, I won’t lie to you about that. They only started talking again a couple of days ago, making it nearly three weeks of silent treatment from both parties. Even I thought that that was a bit much, and we all know that I can be a dramatic little shit at the best of times. After copious amounts of persuasion from us, way more than would have been necessary if he wasn’t a stubborn bastard, a rather miserable Remus had finally apologised for some things he’d said in the heat of the argument that he hadn’t really meant. He didn’t disclose exactly what he’d said, but I have to be honest, I was just glad that he got over himself and talked to her because it was painful to sit behind them in History of Magic while they were being that damn ridiculous. Not only had he said that he was sorry, but he’d wanted to do something for her to show her how sorry he was. He’d done some research, which meant he’d spent twelve hours straight in the library. James, forever the mother hen of the group, was far from pleased to find out that he’d missed two whole meals, so naturally, that had led to him lecturing poor Remus on the importance of eating properly. He argued that that it doesn’t matter that it’s for love, you need to eat, for Merlin’s sake, which was saying something when you remember how James was a closeted romantic himself. He’d eventually found a spell that was a variant on the translation spells Peter was rather fond of for uncomplicated pranks. Usually with those spells, you speak whatever you mean to say in English, but when it comes out, everyone hears the language you’re cursed to speak. This one, however, worked with sign language; he would say what he wanted to say, and his hands would automatically sign what he’s saying. It didn’t solve everything, he still had to keep studying the language so he could understand Idania, but it was a sure start, and a massive help for the both of them. According to Remus when he’d returned to tell us how it went, she’d been so grateful that she’d almost started crying, though she denied it every time we asked her about it.

While I had been simultaneously amusing and horrifying my friends with mental images of Remus doing unholy things, Sirius had been on a mission to find him, and seemed to have returned triumphant. At some point, he must have left the room even though I had no memory of seeing him leave, as he was now dragging Remus behind him by the hand, who was dragging Idania somewhat gentler. “I found them!” he proclaimed with a stupid grin on his face, in a way similar to how a child would announce such a thing.

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock,” Peter muttered with no actual malice behind his words.

“You’re welcome, Pete,” Sirius bowed but then stumbled forwards, crashing headfirst onto the ground. He didn’t bother getting up, choosing to sit cross-legged on the floor once he got his bearings.

Lily plonked herself down next to him and gazed at him quizzically, “Why are you saying, ‘you’re welcome’, when you’re the one who wanted to know where they were?”

He covered her mouth with his hand to prevent her from speaking, “Shhh, Lily-flower, shhh.”

She scowled at him while Marlene mouthed ‘Lily-flower’ at me in confusion. I just shrugged, desperately trying not to laugh at James who was clearly dying of embarrassment while trying to hide from Lily. We once heard him murmur the nickname in his sleep during our second year, and even though he hasn’t said it since, we refused to let him forget it. Lily must have licked Sirius’s hand or something for he retracted his hand as quickly as he would if he’d had an electric shock, wiping it on his trousers while staring at her in disgust and betrayal. Lily didn’t show an inch of sympathy towards his pain.

“So, what were you two actually doing?” Dorcas asked, directing the conversation back to Idania and Remus.

Idania smirked evilly and looked up at Remus, looking awfully glad that she didn’t have to be the one to explain. I still thought they hooked up finally, but Remus didn’t look nearly as mortified as I imagined he would.

Remus opened his mouth to speak but Lily cut him off, “I can smell weed.”

“How the fuck do you of all people know what weed smells like?” I laughed.

She glared at me in a way that had me quaking in my heels, “Please, you know what Cokeworth’s like, so you can trust me when I say I know what weed smells like.” I had to give it to her, that town wasn’t exactly the poshest in the UK, and I would know seeing as I used to live in the damn place.

We locked eyes for a second, then slowly looked up at Remus and Idania’s slightly guilty but overall chilled-out faces.

Well shit.

Once it clicked in my head as to what they had been doing, I started giggling uncontrollably for a good minute, and everyone else started looking at me really worriedly. I can’t say I blamed them if I’m honest, I did look like something of a lunatic. I quickly put the spell that Remus had found on myself, suddenly feeling really bad that Idania probably didn’t have much of an idea of what had just been said.

“Idania, how dare you corrupt our sweet, innocent Remus?” I laughed, shaking my head like a disapproving parent.

“Excuse you, Remus hasn’t been innocent since before he met us,” James grinned lopsidedly.

“I wasn’t that innocent before I met you,” the boy in question tried to defend himself, only to be met with about seven people saying, ‘you were’.

“Anyway, that’s beside the point. The point is you smoked weed?” I asked incredulously.

“Don’t look at me like that!” he said, “It’s not that big of a deal, no one really cares about that kind of thing these days, well not in the muggle world at least. Live a little, Ruth.”

“That doesn’t make it any less weird that it’s coming from you, mate,” James shook his head.

“But here’s the question nobody else is brave enough to ask, apparently,” Marlene raised a finger and then pointed it at the couple, “Is it nice? And if so, may we have some?”

Most of us, excluding Dorcas and Lily, made some sort of noise of agreement to which Remus just laughed, “Well, it’s Idania’s, not mine, so it’s up to her really…” he trailed off, leaving his girlfriend to make up her mind.

I didn’t actually know much sign language, except for the odd word or phrase I’d picked up (naturally fuck off was on of them), but whatever Idania had signed in response put a devilish smirk on Remus’s face that was all too familiar, “I think that’s a yes, just not too much. Ida doesn’t think you’ll be able to handle it.” The girl in question lightly breathed through her nose, which I’d come to learn was her laugh.

I gaped at her with mock outrage on my face, “I am offended but at least I’ll get to try some, right?”

A couple of blunts went round during the next however long we were high for, while Lily and, to some extent, Dorcas looked on disapprovingly. I think it’s safe to say that the concept of time was non-existent for the rest of the night. I have to say it was one of the most relaxing yet insane experiences I’ve ever had, and it wasn’t long until long after it had worn off did I start to wonder how Idania had access to that kind of thing. She must have been even more of a badass than we first thought.

When I had first started holding parties like these last year, I had made an offer to Dorcas which had involved me making drinks that had no alcohol in them but still had the same effect. She’d been grateful for the suggestion, but she’d pointed out that doing that kind of defeats the whole point of not drinking alcohol in the first place. We’d then settled on making non-alcoholic drinks that still tasted like their alcoholic counterparts but had no effect whatsoever, and we were constantly trying different recipes. Word caught soon after we started, and our non-alcoholic drinks were in almost as high demand as the alcoholic black market I’d created with the boys. They proved to be popular among students who either didn’t want to or weren’t allowed to drink, but didn’t want to miss out on a party or something like that, as well as older students who needed a form of stress relief from their exams, but didn’t want to develop some kind of addiction. I couldn’t blame them, seeing as they used to drink a lot as a really unhealthy coping mechanism. I’d much rather they drink something else, so I was glad to have been of service. As you can imagine, the business really boomed around springtime.

“You know, trying to keep track of you all is like herding a load of cats,” she huffed, taking a sip of her not-quite-firewhiskey.

“Hey, Dorcas,” I mumbled in the most serious voice I could muster, which was quite the feat considering I was both drunk and high at that point. She leaned in to listen, only to hear me say, “Meow.”

Her brows furrowed sceptically, “Meow?”

I nodded, not breaking my composure though I desperately wanted to just dissolve into giggles like a child, “Meow. Because you said we’re cats.”

Dorcas sighed with a resigned look on her face,” Sure, Ari.”

A chorus of meows sounded throughout the room, much to Dorcas’s confusion and exasperation. I could only imagine what it must be like to have to deal with all of us unaided when we were like this.

A/N: By the way, I’m not trying to promote the use of drugs, personally I think things like marijuana should be decriminalised but that’s a story for another day. Just to remind you, this is set in 1975 at the moment, which means that drugs were more common, and more people did things like weed. It makes more sense when you consider the context. Also, they’re only human, shit like this happens.