#but when i wondered how loud the flatline sound can be and decided to take that out when i was unsure bout the answer

[aria0fgold]

Whumptober day 16, alternative prompt used: Brass Knuckles and Whumptober day 22 prompt: Glass Shard

Characters: Mel, Marigold Ages: 15, 29

Mel hissed as Mari applied ointment on his injuries. A swollen cheek, cracked lips, several cuts and bruises all over, he even seemed to have sprained his ankle as well, though he wasn't certain of that, not when the only pain he can feel is from his other foot that had glass shards lodged into it earlier. It was quite an unfair fight, 5 people with some wielding weapons, a bat, brass knuckles, or whatever. Yet even with those advantages, they still lost, pathetically running with tails between their legs.

“Aight, ya got any excuse bout this?” Mari continued to tend to his wounds, one of her pals saw him and ran to get her. So here they are, in one of their hideouts closest to the area. There was a small frown on her face, he can't quite tell if she's mad at him or the people he fought.

He merely stayed silent, he didn't have to energy to explain anything to her nor does he have the energy to even talk at all. He just wanted to get to bed, to hell with his injuries, infection be damned, he didn't care about anything anymore, he just wanted to collapse somewhere and never wake up.

“Mm… Well, should've expected that silence.”

Mel groaned, rolling his eyes and looking away, anywhere to distract himself, the pain wasn't a problem to him, he had worse before, what was the problem however, was Mari herself. He can't understand her at all. A gang leader famously known to be scary and strong, caring and tending for a brat she found half-dead in an alleyway. He sometimes thinks it would've been better for him to have died then. What was the point?

Why would she even bother to look after a stranger's kid, completely unrelated to her? His parents didn't even bother to care for him the way she's doing. So what's the point?

“Hey.” Mari snapped her fingers in front of him.

Mel frowned, “What?”

Mari put a hand on her hip, looking him up and down, “Hmm… Anyone ever told ya yer easy to read?”

He huffed out a sigh, “Yeah, the people I just beat up.”

She whistled, her lips forming into a smirk, “Oooh, look at that. Ya plan on fightin' me next too, aye?”

Mel glared at her.

She merely chuckled at him, “Maybe wait when yer all healed up. Wouldn't mind a spar with a lil zombie.”

“Seriously, just say what you wanted to say. Stop with that shit.”

“Heeh… Already said all that I wanted.” She shrugged, “Ya know, that gloomy look don't suit ya. Want me to tell ya bout that time I found ya?”

Mel let out a loud groan, “Shut it then. I don't wanna hear it anymore.” He'd heard that story countless of times already, far too much to keep track of, he never understood why she liked talking about it so much.

Mari didn't seem to listen, “You were sitting all bloodied at that alley--”

“I told you to shut it.” Mel grabbed a shoe nearby, throwing it at Mari who caught it with ease and an annoyingly smug expression.

She laughed, annoying him even further. She can be so unbearable at times, yet Mel can't truly bring himself to hate it. If anything, he hated that it brought him a sense of comfort.

He clicked his tongue as he stood, though he stumbled forward, Mari was there to steady him by grabbing onto his arm.

“Here, here, I'll carry ya.” She turned, bending down to carry him on a piggyback.

“No--”

“Aish! I aint taking no as an answer from ya! Ya can't even stand well! If ya don't want a piggyback then I'll carry ya like those princesses.”

Mel grumbled as he climbed on her back, tugging at her hair in irritation when she laughed, though it didn't quite stop her from laughing even more.

“Anyway, bout time ya tell me bout those brats ya fought.”

“So what? You can get revenge for me?”

“I aint giving ya that luxury! Ya get revenge on yer own, but those idiots did step into my territory so someone oughtta teach em a lesson not to.”

Mel chuckled, “My information comes with a payment. And payment first.”

Mari grumbled, “Aight, aight! Whatever! Tell me what ya want then!”

Mel laughed, a genuine laughter for the first time in so long, yet he didn't realize it as such. All that he knew then was, it wasn't so bad living like this.

[sunlightwoo]

Desire: Marked (5/5)

wc: 876

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS

Seonghwa’s heart felt like it was going at pace of a thousand miles per hour as he sat on the bench outside of the emergency room, where he had been waiting for the past couple hours waiting for any sign of the doctors to reach out to him for better news. But with every single hope he had inside, there wasn’t anything that he was able to hear besides the reason that you were found being rolled into the building.

A hit and run.

He resented himself for the fact that he was the cause that you had been out there in the first place, and if it weren’t the words that he said to you, then maybe things like this could’ve been avoided. While he was glaring at the words on his wrist that were slowly fading away, he wondered what the mark would be if he said something else and talked to you; one last time, in a better situation.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers heartbroken and almost inaudibly as tears pricked the ends of his eyes while he placed his head in the palm of his hands.

All he could hear was the loud beeping of the machines that were surrounding him as he mentally prayed for a miracle to happen. However, there was only a deadly silence and the dull emotion of mourning and sadness that floated in the atmosphere as he continued to wait even longer for the doctor to come out of the emergency room.

By the time that there was a sound of a flatline, Seonghwa felt his heart sink into his stomach as he knew almost instantly whom the sound belonged to. Almost instinctively, he looked down at his wrist where your words were once inked on him, only to see that the dark cursive was now almost completely faded away from sight as if it did not exist in the first place, which only meant one thing to him at this rate.

The doctor walked out of the emergency room with a solemn look on his face as Seonghwa felt his heart clench in pain and tears cascaded down his face. He didn’t want to believe what the doctor was going to say in the moment, but he also knew that it was inevitable, and with how he had contributed to their fate, it felt wrong and messed up; it was the reality that you both lived in.

“I apologize for your loss, Mr. Park,” The doctor says quietly while bowing to Seonghwa as a sign of both respect and also empathy as he felt the numbness in his chest begin to dull in his chest, like his life has just been squeezed out in the hands of someone else.

“Would you like your final words with Y/N?” The doctor asks Seonghwa cautiously as he looks down and shakes his head in response.

“I’ll take those words with me to the grave, sir, but thank you.” Seonghwa says while giving him a weak smile as he started to turn around to be on his way to leave the hospital on his own.

By the time that he made it inside his car, he was able to hear his phone blow up with messages and calls from the other members. He, however, ignores them as he did not want to feel anything besides the numbness and pain in his chest. Taking his leave out of the parking lot, he decides to drive wherever his subconscious wanted to take him, where he had then ended up in the same place where you both met first met years ago when you were only children.

At the beach.

When his feet interacted with the sand, it took everything inside of him to not break down in that exact moment as the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore filled his ears. Tears were still streaming down his face, but he couldn’t forget all of the memories that he shared with you, even if they were mixtures of good and bad memories. He couldn’t forget about you at all, nor would he ever be able to because of the fact that you were really his soulmate.

What would’ve been his endgame, if it weren’t for his mistakes.

“I miss you already,” He bitterly chuckles to himself while sitting on the sand and gazing out into the distance as he was talking to nobody in particular, “I hated myself ever since I decided to shut you out, and even more when I said those exact words that must’ve been on your wrist. It was just simply hours ago. I love you so much, Y/N, can you just please stop playing around and come back to me?”

He fully broke down at this point as his sobs were heard throughout the quiet and empty beach as he felt ashamed. Ashamed of how much he made a mess of his relationship with you, knowing that everything that has happened couldn’t be taken back. It was written already in your fates and marks. There was nothing else he could do besides mourn over the ghost of the memory of you, and what could’ve been your future together.

“Just come back, one more time…”

[johannstutt413]

(inspired by this imagine from arknights-imagines; been trying to come up with something for Doctor x Mostima, this was how we got there)

The Doctor sighed as his stomach growled for the third time in the hour. He’d had to come in early to start on the workload for the day, and while he was almost finished for the day as a result, he’d only managed to stuff a microwave burrito and a boiling-hot cup of coffee down his gullet before arriving, and he hadn’t taken lunch at all. Mostima had come in earlier with a new stapler - his old one jammed to the point of being useless the other day - but he’d hoped she come around again. Oh well; no use in getting his hopes up-

“Hey, Doctor. I’m back.” She had that smile as always, that impossible-to-hate but impossible-to-interpret smirk which was a better poker face than a stone wall. As soon as he saw her, his stomach growled, and Mostima cocked her head. “You’ve eaten today, right?”

“Not since breakfast - been running on empty for a couple hours now. Good news is, I’m almost - there we go, finally! - done for the day, too.”

Mostima nodded. “In that case, I wouldn’t mind taking you out for dinner, if you don’t have any other plans.”

“That sounds a hell of a lot better than the cafeteria right now.” He stood up, leaning on his desk while he grabbed his staff. “I’m so glad you got me a walking stick right now.”

“I’m still shocked no one else noticed your limp. Any preference tonight? Lungmen? Victorian? There’s a Far Eastern place that has a special around this time of day.”

The Doctor shook his head. “Anything sounds good right now, espe-” He cut himself off before he said, “especially with you.”

It wasn’t a secret how he felt about her; hell, it wasn’t a secret that more than a few of the Operators on base felt that way about her, or that Mostima had no interest whatsoever in anything beyond crashing for a night or two at one of their dorms between journeys. She was a traveler with a lipstick-stained passport, and outside of her constant aura of exotic amiability, you couldn’t get anything out of her if she didn’t want you to have it. So far? She and the Doctor were on good terms, nothing more, and that probably wouldn’t be changing any time soon.

Unless, of course, this was more than just a pity gesture. Mostima had a heart, the Doctor knew that much - the stick was a sign of that, at least - but he wasn’t going to kid himself into thinking she had any real interest in him.

“Hey, Doctor?” While he was thinking all of this, they’d left the office and were walking around the compound. The halls were already packed with Operators done with work. “Don’t lose me, now.”

“I won’t-” As he said that, her hand wrapped around his wrist. It was far warmer than he’d expected, and...softer. It was a good thing his visor and hood were still up to block the late afternoon sun, otherwise she might notice how bright his face had gotten.

Mostima led him down a series of tightening corridors until, finally, they were in front of a nondescript little cafe. “It might not look like it, Doctor, but this is by far the best Lungmen buffet you’ll find without going into Lungmen itself.”

“Really?” His wrist had shaken loose of her hand sometime during the walk, and now they were simply holding hands. Well, ‘simply’ - their fingers were interlocked, and when the Doctor looked in her eyes for the first time since they were in the office, she smiled back at him more brightly than he was used to. “W-well, I could eat a horse right now, so a buffet sounds perfect.”

“Glad to hear it. I wonder if they added those dumplings I suggested...” Mostima squeezed his hand as she pushed open the door, and they walked inside together.

After finding himself awed by the decor and the variety of options despite the restaurant’s small size, a waitress brought them to a table with a couple glasses of water and plates. “Miss Mostima, would you like to start with a plate of curry dumplings this evening?”

“You added them to the menu after all?” She nodded. “Yes, please.”

“And for the gentleman- Ah, Doctor! I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize the jacket in this light.”

He blushed, his hood and other face coverings discarded for the time being. “No, it’s perfectly alright. Um...Mostima’s dish sounds good. Another plate of dumplings, please.”

“Two orders of dumplings on the way.” She winked at him. “Thank you for your business this evening.”

“She really likes you. I thought you hadn’t been here before?” Mostima’s eyes were locked on him, one hand wrapped around her glass and the other dancing on her plate.

The Doctor blushed even harder. “I haven’t been here before as a customer, but I’ve helped with deliveries here before.”

“They had you doing deliveries?” She shook her head. “The girls at Penguin would love to hear that, I’m sure.”

“Oh, they did - I was working with them at the time. Anything interesting happen today?”

Mostima thought for a moment. “Let’s see...”

They talked while they waited for their food. Normally, their conversations were standard faire - pleasantries and talking about their days, nothing particular. That was how talking with Mostima was; nothing more revealing than a few of her more interesting stories, nothing more probing than questions to keep the conversation going. Not that it wasn’t enjoyable, but every now and again, the Doctor could tell when she was holding back. Tonight, though? It was like peeling back the curtain; they started with the usual, but slowly they shifted topics to romance, and since the Doctor had lost most of his memories, Mostima was the only one with any real stories to discuss. Lord, did she have stories.

“Your dumplings, fresh from the chef’s pot.” The waitress arrived at their table in the middle of a story about Exusiai that had the Doctor in stitches. “Enjoying yourselves so far?”

“Quite well. Would you mind getting one of the bottles of sake we brought in that one day? I’ve been meaning to try it since I read the label.”

She nodded. “Certainly. Anything else?”

“Nope.” He smiled at her. “We’ll let you know when you come back if something comes up.”

“Of course. I’ll get that bottle for you.”

As their waitress walked off, Mostima smiled the same smile from earlier. “You’re quite the charmer when you want to be, aren’t you, Doctor?”

“Hmm?” He shook his head. “I’m just being polite.”

Casually referencing your shared history and smiling like that? I don’t know about that.” She cut into her first dumpling, steam rolling out of it with a satisfying hiss.

“These smell wonderful,” the Doctor noted, cutting into his as well.

“Changing the subject so quickly?” Mostima chuckled. “I might be worried I struck a nerve if I didn’t know you better.”

He glanced up as he took his first bite, savoring his first food in nine hours with a primal satisfied groan. “They taste even better somehow. You really know your stuff, Mostima.”

“Well, you know me, Doctor. Well-informed and well-traveled.” Her eyes dulled a little as he remained enraptured by the dumplings in front of him even as he tore through them like paper.

“I’ve always wanted to travel,” he continued, one cheek full of dumpling. “Ever since I woke up in that cot in Ursus, I’ve been dying to know what Terra’s really like, but all I get are the piecemeal stories from my employees. That’s never the same thing as going there in person, as I’m sure you know.”

She shrugged. “Most of the time.”

“To look through those eyes of yours and see the wonders you’ve seen...That’d be a real adventure, no doubt.”

“They’ve seen a lot,” she agreed. “Beauty and horror, highs and lows, comedy and tragedy.”

The Doctor sighed. “I wish I could go with you on one of your deliveries. Even if it wasn’t all that long, just feeling the road under my feet with you in the seat next to me...” He trailed off before he hit that point too hard.

“You’d rely on me to teach you how to travel? I bet Penguin could do that.” Mostima’s smile flatlined. “Exu certainly could. She’s a much more lively companion than me, after all, and you know how I feel about you relying on me.”

“I relied on you to take me to dinner this evening, to pick the restaurant, to decide what to eat. Mostima, this whole day, I’ve been relying on your help, your experience, your wisdom.” His first course finished, his attention had refocused on the top at hand.

She blinked. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. I show people restaurants all the time.”

“That might make it less special for you,” the Doctor muttered, just loud enough for her to hear it, “but that doesn’t change anything for me. I’ll take whatever I can get.”

“Whatever you can get...”

When the waitress returned, they were both staring at their plates. She set the bottle and a pair of cups at the table and glanced between them. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, we’re fine,” he replied, somewhat apologetic. “Thank you for the sake. Mostima, I’m going to get a bowl of ramen; do you want anything?”

“Huh? Oh, um...chicken with spicy cream sauce, please.”

He nodded, flashing her a thumbs up. “I’ll be right back.”

“Has he really always felt this way?” Mostima muttered to herself. “No, that would be ridiculous. He’s never said anything before.”

“Miss Mostima, if I may? The Doctor likes for people to be happy,” their waitress noted.

She looked up at her with a blank stare. “I know that.”

“Maybe he thought you’d be happier if you didn’t know?” She shrugged. “The way he looked at you at the door seemed pretty clear to me.”

“But I...Thank you, Clarisse. You more than earned your tip tonight.”

Clarisse smiled. “Always happy to help, Miss Mostima. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Of course.” Mostima poured herself a cup full of sake. “I’ll let you know...”

“Alright, one bowl of creamy chicken for you, and one pork and soy for me...Everything alright?” The Doctor came back with their second course in high spirits, which almost instantly sunk as he saw her troubled expression.

She sighed, looking up at him. “I’ve been a real idiot lately, Doctor.”

“What makes you say that?” He jabbed his chopsticks at a cutlet of pork, halfway spearing it on one of them. “I can’t think of a single dumb thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“I can...You know, when I was with Exu, I never once thought about how she must have felt about my coming and going - business was business, and pleasure was pleasure. If I wanted her, I knew where to find, but the other way around was ridiculous to worry about. Right now, though, I wonder...Doctor, do you miss me when I leave?”

He nodded, not looking up from his bowl. “Every time.”

“If I stayed around more,” she continued, “would that make you happier?”

“Only if you can be happy staying in one place for longer.”

Mostima bit her lip. “And if I wanted to stay with you?”

“If that’s what you want.” The Doctor looked up at her. “My door’s always open.”

“I’m wondering if it should be...Remember when I said it didn’t matter what our relationship was like, because I don’t really need love or a family?”

He nodded. “Clear as you are now.”

“Forget all of that.” Mostima’s eyes burned into his soul as a shimmering sapphire fell from her eye into her ramen. “I do need love, Doctor...Yours.”

“All you had to do was ask, Mostima.” He rested his free hand on the table, and she took it, palms pressed together and fingers interlocking. Surely, the night couldn’t get better than this moment.

They held their hands like that as they finished their second course; once they finished, they switched hands so the Doctor could try the sake he’d requested, and after each having two small glasses, they agreed to buy the rest of the bottle and share it between them after their next few nights together. Their waitress returned with their bill, and after taking one glance at them she knew they’d want dessert - specifically, the restaurant’s specialty, another Mostima suggestion. Another hour or so went by, the Doctor continuing to compliment her on her taste and, well, everything else that came to mind while she basked in the warmth like a lizard on a rock. Once they were finished, and her ego was large enough to make her completely flight-capable, the Doctor paid for their meal, Mostima paid the tip, and they left the restaurant.

“So...your place?” She asked as they walked back towards the dorms.

“I mean, you don’t exactly have one, right?” He blinked. “Wait, you must have somewhere you keep your stuff.”

Mostima shrugged. “In my truck.”

“That makes sense...does it have a bed?”

“It does, actually.” She cocked her head. “Are you asking to spend the night with me in my truck?”

The Doctor shrugged back. “Can I see your truck, at least? If you don’t want me to spend the night in it, that’s fine-”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just...funny, I guess. I’ve never thought of my truck being something exotic.”

“When you’re a shut-in like me, it certainly is.” He chuckled. “Almost as exotic as you.”

Mostima raised an eyebrow. “Almost? You haven’t even seen it yet.”

“If it, I dunno, doubles as a sauna and can drive itself, then maybe, but that’s only because you and it have gone a lot of places together.”

“Actually, this is my third one in two years.”

The Doctor’s other hand arced in front of him, his stick hovering at his side. “Well, there you go. Hey, which direction is the garage from here, anyway?”

“Don’t worry, I’m taking us there.” She squeezed his hand. “Are you always this lively?”

“Nope. I’m just really happy right now.”

Mostima giggled. “All because of little old me?”

“All because of you.” His head drifted onto her shoulder. “I can’t remember the last time I felt like this.”

“Neither can I...Well, here we are. What do you think?”

The Doctor looked it up and down. “For some reason, when you said truck, I didn’t expect it to be a full semi.”

“I’ve driven smaller ones, but they’re much easier to lose.” She clicked a button on her key fob, and the back of her trailer collapsed into a ramp up. “Took awhile to find one that did that.”

“Wow...It’s kind of a mess, isn’t it?”

Mostima blushed. “I wasn’t expecting to host.”

“I kind of like it more because of that, though.” He slipped his hand out of hers to wrap it around her waist. “Reminds you this is someone’s home.”

“Well, it was, at least.” They walked up the ramp, which closed behind them, and sat on the edge of her bed.

The Doctor couldn’t quite parse it in his current state. “Why’s that?”

“Because home is where the heart is, Doctor.” Mostima put a hand against his chest and gently pushed him down. “Which means my home is wherever you are.”

[insfiringyou]

Suga looks up Jeong-sun in the phonebook

This fic takes place after the events of 7 minutes in heaven and between First date, where Yoongi searches for Jeong-sun in the phone book. To fully understand this fic we recommend that you read both beforehand. We have linked our masterlist and any essential links below. Enjoy, we look forward to your response!

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin  /   Suga  /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook 

& Our full masterlist can be found here

The phone call had been brief, lasting only ten minutes before they wished each other well and promised to meet up soon. Yoongi sighed as he drew the phone away from his ear, his older brother’s voice disappearing from the other end of the dead line. He had gathered that the construction work to Geum-Jae’s café had reached some speed bumps, the short and slightly sharp edge in his voice an indicator that things were not going as smoothly as he had envisioned. Reassuringly, Yoongi had reminded him that these things rarely went as planned and that a solution would be inevitable. It had been almost six months since they had last spoken, and whilst he had wanted to talk, the call had come partly from a place of boredom and restlessness.

Steam spiralled from the mug between his fingers, and he blew the surface before taking a sip, eyeing the open newspaper on his desk. He smoothed the page, crumpled and torn by the rain in the short walk from the newsagents to his studio that morning. A small advert had caught his attention; a Union Jack unceremoniously crammed between that of a stand-up comedy show and another which appeared to be for the opening of a jazz club taking place that weekend. Whilst he had not heard of the band, he had deduced that the group had travelled to Korea from the UK and would be performing tomorrow night.  He was reminded automatically of the woman he had met a few days before, a plastic red cup clutched against the petals of her New Order band tee. 

 It was obvious to Yoongi now that she had no more wanted to participate in the party game than he had, and were he to have reacted differently, they probably would have laughed about the ridiculousness of the situation together. Instead, the conversation in the closet had been tense, her demeanour guarded and wary. His frustration at Jimin hadn’t entirely disappeared; but he no longer felt that he could blame him for how he had behaved when the bottle had landed on her. Jeong-Sun had accepted his feeble apology as they spoke at the kitchen counter later in the evening, but they undoubtedly had gotten off on the wrong foot, and he couldn’t help but wonder how differently things might have turned out. 

His stomach turned over nervously as he slid open the bottom drawer of his desk. He nudged aside a glass frame, stacks of old receipts and warranties for equipment he had since upgraded. A few years out of date, he was not even sure whether she would be listed in this telephone edirectory. Perhaps she hadn’t set up a landline when the book was in print. It occurred to him that she may not have even lived in Seoul at the time- she had mentioned that she had been to university, and he had not asked where. 

But even if she wasn’t listed, that was okay, Yoongi thought. She probably was not waiting on his call.  

                                                     ***

The line was quiet for a moment as the ringing stopped, a muffled breath the only indicator that someone was on the other end. Cautiously, he spoke first.

 “Hello? Is this Kwon Jeong-Sun?”

“Hyun-Jae? Is that you?”The voice that met him was surprisingly hopeful, softer than he had anticipated. His chest sank as he realised that, unless she had aged fifty years overnight, this was not the person he had been hoping would answer. 

“No, it's Yoongi.” He replied slowly.  “I think I've got the wrong number.”

“You'll have to speak up, dear. My hearing aid is playing up again….” There was a high-pitched electronic squeal as the lady adjusted the device, and he waited patiently for a second until the interference subsided.

“It's Yoongi.” He repeated, a little more loudly this time.

“Who are you looking for?”

“Sorry. I'm using the phone book. I'm looking for a girl called Jeong-Sun.”

“Is she your girlfriend?”

He could hear the grin in her voice, finding his face grow a little hot at the suggestion.  “I met her a few days ago at a social event.”

“Didn't she give you her mobile number?”

“She said it was in the phone book.” 

“Did you try Seodaemun-gu?”

“Yeah.” Yoongi responded, beginning to feel the pointlessness of the search. He had half-expected her to hang up already, or to wish him well as the others had. Perhaps she appreciated the company just as much as he did. “No one answered.”

“It doesn't sound like she wants to talk to you that much.” The woman, also named Kwon Jeong-Sun, said soberly. 

He paused for a moment. It’d surprisingly stung to hear this said aloud, though probably true, he thought. “Maybe you're right.”

“Well, you're certainly going to a lot of trouble to find her. You sound like a nice young man. If things don't work out between you I have a single granddaughter.” 

Yoongi laughed softly, lips turning into a gummy smile that she could not see. “I'll keep that in mind.”

“What about Eunpyeong-gu?” She suggested after a moment. 

“Not yet. Thanks for your help.”

“Good luck.”

Yoongi kept the phone to his ear, waiting for the flatline as the handheld  was placed haphazardly back onto the receiver. He slid his tongue idly over his bottom lip, regarding the directory unenthusiastically as he scratched out the name of the other Jeong-sun with a biro. The coffee he had been drinking had turned lukewarm, the surface unappealing as a film of limescale glistened under the surface of the desk lamp. He swilled the liquid around the edge of the ceramic, watching it cling to the sides, and thought vaguely about descaling his coffee machine if only to pass the time. But he had no sooner stood up, mug in hand, before sinking back down into the swivel chair and unlocking his Samsung. Eunpyeong-gu would be the last district, he decided. He was slightly relieved to see that there was only one name listed, thinking of the almost empty bottle of whisky he’d been meaning to finish off. 

The ringing seemed to drone on forever. Just about to hang up, he was surprised when the monotony was broken with a loud beep and a voice suddenly spoke. 

“Hello this is Jeong-Sun. I can't get to the phone at the minute. If you'd like to call me on my mobile my number is…”

Yoongi froze, his heart rate peaking as he listened to the rest of the message telling the caller that she would get back to them when she could. She had sounded bored, as though having recorded the voicemail several times already. Her tone was dry and without inflection, clearly uninterested in anything other than directing the caller to her mobile number. He was sure that this was the right Jeong-sun, and for a while he sat perfectly still, hardly believing his luck.  

Strangely jittery, he waited for a few minutes to go by before trying to call the landline once again. He had not heard the mobile number properly the first time, and regardless, he felt suddenly nervous knowing that she would be on the other end. But there had been something in her small smile as he waved her goodbye in the doorway that made him want to try, to believe that she would be glad to hear his voice too.

After only a few rings, the phone disconnected and her automated message sounded again. Yoongi frowned. Jeong-Sun was home, but clearly not answering. He scribbled down her number on the yellow pages in front of him as she recited it dully and sent a text without thinking.

“Aren’t you going to pick up?” 

“Who’s this?”  

Of course she didn’t know who it was, why should she have answered? He took a deep breath, composing himself. 

“Yoongi. From the closet.”

There was a persistent thumping in his ears as he waited for a response, wondering whether she would. Time seemed to stretch, until a soulful piano melody chimed out, an unknown number shining out from the display. Slowly, he slid his forefinger across the screen and pressed it against his ear, heart accelerating as her voice filled his ears. 

“Sorry I thought you were a cold caller.”

***

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin /   Suga /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook

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[livesbeneath]

the end of all things.

pairing: noah x female mc (harley blanco)

summary: it’s three am, and her laugh is in his head. it almost makes him want to live.

word count: 2.8k.

author’s note: i decided to try and revert back to my old epic poem-esque style for this work, and i have to say, i am extremely excited about how it turned out!  this piece has been a labor of love for me, and i really hope you all enjoy a brief journey across canon with a little added perspective from noah and mc.  i wrote this fic mainly while listening to  the end of all things  by panic! at the disco, hence the name. i highly recommend giving the song a listen since it’s gorgeous - and really helps set the mood. i apologize for any grammar / sentence structure issues, as i tried to proofread the best i could, and thank anyone who takes the time to read!  feedback in any form is deeply appreciated!  (and a big thanks to @gayvathewitch for being my first set of eyes <3)

disclaimer: i do not own these characters / some of the dialogue present. creative liberty has been taken to make this story unique, and i do not intend to use it for profit in any way.

whether near or far, i am always yours. any change in  time, we are young again. so lay us down. we’re in love.

i. bravery

She asserted herself as the bravest in the group at age seven. She picked up worms after rainstorms, rode her bike without a helmet, and tried a new vegetable every month. She jumped into the public pool without holding her nose and didn’t wear swim goggles.

Despite being a pup, Harley led the pack. She was destined to grow into her claws.

ii. cowardice

He always looked slightly anxious. He was cautious, moody, protective. He often hid under his covers at night when he heard the wind blow through his window. It was broken, and refused to close all the way.

Noah wasn’t a wolfish young boy. He was more the shadow that hung behind the sun.

iii. third

He decides eight o’clock in the morning is too early to be awake. Noah suppresses a yawn, eyelids drooping. His mom says that he’ll be able to walk to school after he turns twelve. Until then, he’s stuck on the bus.

“Where’s Jane?” Harley asks quizzically, her Monsters Inc. lunchbox sat on her lap. The two girls always sat together. Noah usually took the seat across the aisle from them - but today it had been claimed by Grant Warner, and he was a fifth grader.

“She has a fever.” He frowns as he stares at the empty space beside her. “Can I sit?”

“I don’t know-” she grins, pulling on one of her own pigtails. “Can you? Do you know how to sit, Noah?”

“Shut up.” he grumbles as he plops down. She knows he doesn’t mean it, and that only makes her giggle harder. The sound makes him want to shove her lunch onto the floor. That is, until he hears his mother’s voice in the back of his head.

You know, boys only pick on girls if they like them, Noah.

Frowning to himself, he sinks lower into the seat, not bothering to shrug his backpack off his shoulders. Her voice was too loud for such an early morning.

“Are you nervous?” she answers before he can even take a breath. “I’m not nervous. I can’t wait to tell Jane all about it!”

“Third grade is gonna be just like second grade, y’know.”

Her spirit is seemingly indomitable, as she simply cheers in response. Her second grade year was a blast - and his was filled with butterflies. Annoying butterflies.

Butterflies he’d like to squish.

iv. sleepover

Mrs. Marshall had packed her children a travel-sized bag of cheesyfish, their own separate flavored toothpastes, and mismatched pairs of socks. She didn’t stop at the front door of Harley’s house to see her children off. Her migraines were getting worse - and a quiet night free of her kids was just what the doctor ordered.

Noah was shocked when Harley’s father answered the door. He didn’t see her parents much. In fact, he was pretty sure they were supposed to be in Boston on business in a week.

Immediately, the twins were whisked to the backyard where the rest of their friends were waiting. Andy was ripping clumps of grass out of the ground and throwing them at Lucas, which was highly amusing to the other children.

“Harley!” Jane says from beside him, a sly smile on her face. “Tell Noah to stop being such a big baby about Mr. Red.”

Harley’s mouth forms an o-shape, her eyebrows raising. “You don’t want to go play with Mr. Red tonight?”

“I’m not a baby! I just think - what if your parents see we aren’t here?”

“That’s why we have a tent, silly! And blankets and pillows to make props! We know Mr. Red can’t really play with us in the light.”

He bites his lip. “It’s gonna be really dark.”

“We can bring flashlights!” Harley smiles. “Or, we can stay here. I want to go to help protect everyone, but you remember the playtime rule, don’t you?”

A few feet away, Jane breaks a twig in half with a clean snap!

“Everyone plays together!”

v. whispers

Her first mistake was not making it to the gym early. If she had, maybe she could have snagged a seat at the top of the bleachers, somewhere high up, a corner against the wall where no one would bother her.

She’s all too aware of his lazy eyes. Tired as they may be, they burn into her back as she stands there like an idiot, contemplating a daring escape out the closest exit.

“Hey, Harley! Sit your stupid ass down unless you wanna watch from the garbage can!”

To her chagrin, Noah makes no move to assist her as she stands there. She doesn’t expect him to, but it would have been the most efficient way to make Cody shut his mouth.

“Hello? You’re blocking our view, and there’s a spot right there!” Jocelyn blurts, waving a hand towards the only seat left open in the whole place.

She exhales before turning at a snail’s pace to meet Noah’s eyes. He sits there expectantly, and Harley assumes that he already knows his answer to her question before she’s even asked it. Swallowing her pride, she offers him a reluctant smile. “Hey, Noah. Do you mind if I…?”

Can you? Do you know how to sit, Harley?

“Knock yourself out.”

He takes his time scooting to the side. Harley shoots Cody and Jocelyn one last glare before stepping up and squeezing beside Noah, crossing her arms across her chest as she plants her feet firmly on the platform below. Any attempts at small talk will be futile, and yet-

“So… what’s been up with you? We haven’t really talked since…”

His voice is a flatline. He shifts uncomfortably in his spot. “Yeah, I know.”

Harley shakes her head slightly as she glances around, her eyes not exactly focusing in on anything, not even Lucas as he approaches center floor to begin the assembly. The gymnasium rumbles around them as the students welcome their class president. Both stay still, letting the vibrations from over a hundred feet stomping madly drown out the rumbles of awkwardness situated in their stomachs.

They fall into a steeled, not-quite conversation. Occasional jabs at Lucas’ discovery of hair gel and Stacy’s cheermates inch them closer and closer to dismissal. After the bell, they’ll hopefully never have to do this again.

“Why do people like her so much?” Harley huffs offhandedly, eyeing Britney in the sea of pom poms before them. “They’ve got to know how horrible she is.”

“And?” Noah begins. “She’s hot and she can do flips. We can’t compete with that.”

She turns to look at him, a curious half-smile on her face as he shrugs. It’s somewhat comforting to know that they remain similar despite the ten years of radio silence between them.

It isn’t the same with everyone else, though. Some of them are still stuck in the gutter of the social pyramid, some of them seemingly free from it, parading around the gym like they own it.

“Huh. Andy actually made the team this year.”

Harley can’t help but grin at that. “Good for him! I can’t wait to see him play.”

Noah yawns as the basketball team captain takes the podium, his speech a carbon copy of every other student-written rallying cry, right down to the obnoxious Westchester Wolves howl.

However, one element manages to catch them both off guard: the flickering of the gymnasium lights.

Then, a plea from Lucas to stay seated. A microphone full of feedback. A broken stereo system.

With a loud BANG!, the doors of the gym fly open, and the lights flicker back on.

She feels a hand clamp around her arm. A shiver up her spine.

“God! What are you-”

He speaks with a frightening concern. “Shut up! Do you hear that!?”

“Hear what?”

“Ssssshhhh!”

The music sputters and dies as the lights shut off completely. A voice, completely alien and horribly familiar.

A whisper.

“Everyone… plays… together.”

vi. resurgence

They all started spending time together, but only out of obligation. It wasn’t as if cops could just arrest Redfield.

She understands Noah’s anger, but it doesn’t make the sight of his face twisted in rage any easier to see. It’s a constant reminder that maybe they could have spared themselves years of loneliness if one of them had been tough enough to speak up.

Harley wasn’t going to stand back anymore. Not after the assembly. Not after finding Dan. Not after what he had told her in the hardware store.

“Mom blames me, y’know. For Jane… and for dad leaving right after.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“It is. She’s said it to my face. Regularly, actually.”

It’s moments like that, like him looking so paralyzed when a monster charges at him, which spark up remembrance in her. They not only make her realize how much she’s missed him, but how much she’s always wanted to be there for him. To protect him. Something about him ignites the hero in her.

She finds where he sits at lunch and plops down.

He wonders why she didn’t ask before doing so.

vii. effortless

The cobblestone around Britney’s pool proved to be terribly unkind to any kind of shoe that required balance to walk in. Decked out in gold and heels, an ensemble that was a giant leap from her normal bomber jacket, it almost made Harley wish that she hadn’t agreed to take a walk with him.

Almost.

Jocelyn’s laugh and the rest of the party fades out behind them as they reach the edge of the backyard, the gentle lapping of the pool water calming Harley’s nerves.

She feels the urge to reach down her throat and rip her heart from her chest in an attempt to silence it. From the moment she had seen him in his natural habitat, gracelessly tossing potato chips into the pool, her heartbeat had been on the fritz.

Nevertheless, she appears just as collected as ever, even as the two of them share a grin. She takes note of how much lighter he looks when he does so.

“So I gotta ask-” she begins. “Why’d you decide to come tonight.”

He looks her over subtly. His hands begin to sweat. “It’s dumb.”

“I bet it’s not! What if I tell you something dumb?”

“Depends on what you got.”

She runs through multiple replies in her mind. There’s “I think you look nice with your hair long”, along with “I felt my stomach lurch when you laughed earlier”. There’s also-

“I got points off my language arts homework because I misspelled orange.”

His lips turn upward, and he doesn’t work to suppress a chuckle. “You mean the most phonetically sound word in the English language?”

“See? Now that was dumb.” she watches him shake his head, taking a breath.

“I came because…”

Because you would be here. Because she made things a bit easier to bear. “Well, being with your friends in a place you hate is still better than being alone, right?”

He drifts from her in that moment, the grill a few feet away giving him something more stable to think about. She approaches - relentless as always - a smile on her face. He wishes he could be so easygoing.

She speaks so easily, and he doesn’t think she realizes the impact of the stuff she says. Noah doesn’t know what it is about her that makes her so much easier to talk to. So easy to snap at, and then confide in seconds later. He knows she deserves better than his polar opposites. She would have a much better time playing spin the bottle with Stacy’s brother.

And yet, she doesn’t go. Not when he digs up skeletons from his past, not when he mentions his wishes for the future. He barely realizes he’s talking about Baby Jane’s, something that he’s never mentioned away from pen and paper, until the words leave his mouth. Until she happily asks “Will you let me be a waitress at Baby Jane’s someday?”

Something about it is so effortless. Something about them is so…

“Now, what do you say we go back to the party? See if Britney has any hot dogs?”

He shakes his head as music begins to blare from the house. “You go ahead. I like how quiet it is over here.”

Harley’s face practically glows as she recognizes the song playing, and she turns back to him, enthusiastically sticking her arm out. “Are you sure? Come on, come dance with me!”

“Hey, I bet Andy would dance with you.” he can’t help but smile, pointedly trying to ignore the adorable way she bobs along to the bass.

Instead of replying, Harley decides to kick off her heels, one of them landing in the pool as she goes. She shakes out her hair, brunette tresses falling over her shoulders and down her back, moving from side to side as she begins to groove along with the sound.

Laughing, she extends both her arms, making grabby hands at him and calling out. “But it’s fun! And it’s Franz Ferdinand! You know Take Me Out, right?”

He doesn’t bother to recall if he knows the song or not, and smiles as he playfully waves her away, standing only to go and fish her shoe out of the water.

Sticking out her tongue, hips swaying, she turns and dances off to where Andy is sitting.

He watches her go, a blush spreading across his cheeks as he marvels at just how plucky she is.

Some things never change.

viii. reverse

He made a bold move of his own a few days later, bell ringing overhead as he showed up unannounced, joining her for all things coffee and Redfield related. She had initially been alone, probably for a reason, as it jostled him to see her so worked up.

After a particularly tense session of rehashing the past, the sound of her pencil furiously scribbling away in her notebook dedicated to Mr. Red is the only thing between them. He shuffles his feet as he sees her violently wipe tears of frustration from her eyes. A sickness pools into his chest as he realizes how much of this she’s taking on by herself  -  and in that, he sees his own reflection.

“I don’t know what to do.” she huffs, dropping her pencil to tug on her hair.

Unwilling to hash out the future in its entirety, his hand grazes hers before pulling away. Instead of something to hold, he gives her a small smile.

“If all else fails, you can always wait tables. Baby Jane’s is gonna need staff members.”

It’s a nice thought.

ix. sidestep

The night was young as the teens celebrated their victory. After spending what seemed like years fearing every shadow that fell beside them, the strobe lights at homecoming seemed almost too good to be true.

Noah drifts off to the side as a slow song begins, feeling his stomach begin to churn as the clock keeps ticking. No matter how he tries, he can’t will the hands to move any faster.

Harley also feels sick, but mainly because she’s just polished off her fourth cup of punch in fifteen minutes. That, and the fact that they’re the only two who haven’t found someone to dance with.

Neither of them work up the courage to make a move.

Maybe he could have if he didn’t know what was coming.

x. betrayal

What was coming could only be better than what had gone.

He tells himself this as he watches her, dress ruined, drenched in Cora Pritchard’s blood and riddled with tears, leave the dogs to deal with the horde closing in on the ruins. This is what they - what he - had to do.

This only makes him sicker as he leads her inside. No amount of hope will ever dull the knife in his pocket. The way he feels about her only makes it sharper, only makes it more painful as she grapples with it against her throat. He thinks it remarkable how valiantly she fights. She thinks it horrific how this is when he finally decides to grow some balls.

Her survival instincts briefly overtake her heart. “Noah, you traitor! Let go of me! If Redfield has hurt any of our friends, I swear-”

The venom in her voice shatters him inside, but he keeps his focus on his sister, on how sweet it will be to finally free her.

He thinks of how when he dies, he won’t ever feel the pain of hurting those he loves again.

xi. together

But as always, she has a plan of her own.

When there is no one left but the two of them, both staring confoundedly at the puff of smoke that was once Redfield, her mind begins to race.

Harley watches his feet drag across the floor as he approaches her, his appearance that of a boy dissolved by his own actions. Noah wants nothing more than to dissipate. He wants nothing more than to make things right. To be brave for once.

Unfortunately, bravery is all she has left.

xi. bravery

So, she sacrifices herself.

xii. cowardice

And as for him?

He runs.

in these coming years, many things will change. but the way  i feel will remain the same. so lay us down. we’re in love.

[artistic-nightowl]

They All Go Down: Part 1 - Unfortunate Discovery

So…this is going to be a thing now. My first story for 2019!

Summary: Following the events of Kill JSE, Anti now has his plan in motion. With Jack in a coma and the others distraught, the glitch finally has the advantage. As the good doctor once said, “Once one goes down, they all go down.”

Hope you all enjoy!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chase had been pacing in front of the door for who knows how long. He hadn’t heard anything from Schneep in a while, and was hesitant to check. After all, he trusted him and knew that he would save Jack. The scar on the side of his head was enough to prove that.

Jack had been sick for a while now, the reason still unknown. It only got serious enough that Schneep had to operate on him. Now he was waiting by himself. Marvin left for a show and Jackie was out on patrol, after giving plenty reassurance that Jack would be okay. But he still couldn’t help feel like something was wrong.

He knocked on the door, just loud enough that Schneep would hear him. “Doc, is everything alright in there?”

There was no response, and Chase’s worry grew. Maybe he didn’t hear him. He knocked again, more harsh. “Henrik! Can you hear me? Is everything okay?

Still nothing. The worry began to turn into frustration. Chase pounded on the door, “HENRIK!”

After a few more attempts, he decided to go inside. Surprisingly, the door was unlocked. He opened the door and Henrik was-. He wasn’t inside. The only noise was the heart monitor beeping softly. The room was a mess. A chair was knocked over, a pair of headphones lying next to it. It was empty except for...

“Jack!” Chase rushed over to his friend, his fear rising. Jack’s eyes were closed, his breathing even. Looking at the monitors, he seemed alright, but that was the slightest relief for the vlogger. He looked over at the small cart next to Jack and saw Henrik’s equipment on it. Next to it was a blue surgical mask and cap, as well as a small white pin with words printed in green. Chase, still highly confused about this, was ready to go find the doctor when his phone made a ping! He pulled it out and saw that it was a notification from YouTube. A new video...from Jack. But how could he...? However, his heart dropped when he saw the title and the thumbnail. “KILL JA̶CKSEPTICEYE | Bio IN̵̛c Redemp T̨I̶̢on"

The zalgo. His face. His slit throat. It was all too familiar. Chase was horrified as he clicked on the video. He heard the high-five sound effect, but his main focus was on Jack. His best friend, healthy and happy. Then he left, his hand covering his mouth. Chase remembered this moment, and what happened after. Jack nearly collapsed onto the floor, but Jackie managed to catch him. That’s when Schneep took him for the operation, and the rest is history. He snapped out of his daze when he saw Schneep enter the frame and begin the operation. He chose the option for life and there was a large head of Jack attached to the body.

At the beginning, Schneep was doing an excellent job. Chase nearly chuckled at some of his remarks before the thumbnail picture flashed in his head. That’s when things took a turn for the worst. Henrik would complain of how warm he was, the slight distortions in his voice that he wouldn’t seem to notice. The flashes of him with a bleeding eye, another with black eyes, another of him trying to strangle himself with the headphone wires.

But it refused to stop there. One second, he was a disheveled wreck trying to save his friend, the next staring at the camera with mad eyes and insane laughter. But for only slight moments would he appear, his smug grin and his bloody neck almost taunting whoever was watching.

Then ‘Jack’ flatlined. Chase let out a quiet sob hearing his friend’s cries, only for them to be whisked away by the sound of static. Then…silence. Chase saw that there was more time in the video, but he had already seen enough. He exited the video and turned it off. He looked over at Jack, tears brimming his eyes. Had all of that happened to him? Even while Schneep was slowly getting corrupted by the glitch. Schneep...

Chase lowered himself to the floor, sitting on his feet. He stared at his phone, tears falling from his cheeks to the ground. The images flashed again in his mind. Schneep, Jack, Anti. He scowled through the tears and shouted at the top of his lungs, “YOU FUCKING BASTARD! WHERE IS HE, GLITCH BITCH? I KNOW YOU HAVE HIM!” He was fuming, and was about to continue before his eyes landed on Jack. His rage dissolved and he sat in dead silence for a moment. Then he spoke again in a quiet, broken voice,

"What do you want from us?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Thank you everyone, and have a wonderful night!” The magician exclaimed, taking a final bow. A large puff of green smoke emerged in his place, excited cheers in response. When it faded out, he was gone. More cheers ensued from the audience, most wondering how he managed to pull it off.

Marvin stayed in his bowing pose for a few seconds more, now in the dressing room. He rose and smiled, satisfied with another successful show. He sets down his wand on a nearby table and is about to remove his mask when he hears a knock on the door. “Come in,” He calls out, taking off his cape.

The door opens and Julie, one of the workers at the theater he performed at, entered. “Hey, magic man. Or more appropriately, magic cat."

He sighed and chuckled, turning his head to face her. “Never gets old, huh? What’s up?”

“There’s, um, a few fans outside that want to see if they can get a picture with you.”

Marvin was about to accept, then he remembered Jack. His shoulders slumped, he hated not being able to meet fans. But he had to go home. “I gotta pass, family stuff. Could you tell them that I’ll be able to see them next time?" “Sure thing! Hope everything’s alright!” She closed the door, leaving Marvin alone again.

“I hope so too.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Marvin stepped into the house, disturbed by the silence of the normally chaotic household. Jackie must still be out on patrol, but everybody else should be here. He walked through the house, finding their rooms to be empty. He was ready to call out their names when he could hear a faint sob. He followed the noise as it got louder before it landed on the operation room. The magician’s concern rose immensely. He shoved the door open, slamming it into the wall. Frantic eyes darted around the room before he saw Chase sitting on the floor. The sobbing stopped, Chase’s head shooting up to meet Marvin’s eyes. His eyes were red and puffy, face stained with tears.

Marvin rushed to Chase’s side, sitting down in front of him. “Chase? What happened, where is everyone?” That only caused Chase’s cries to resume, his body leaning against Marvin’s. His arms wrapped around Marvin in a tight hug, with no chance of letting go soon. Marvin stiffened before returning the hug, trying to comfort his little brother.

“Jack, he-he won’t wake up and Schneep-"

“What do you mean he won’t wake up?” Marvin cut him off, pushing Chase away and holding his shoulders, almost shaking them. “Chase, what do you mean?"

“He won’t wake up! I’ve been trying for almost an hour now, and he’s not responding! It’s like he’s-” Chase didn’t finish his sentence, sobbing again. Marvin knew what he was going to say, glad that he didn’t have to hear it out loud. He pulled Chase back into the hug, rubbing his back in circles. The action felt more comforting to him than to Chase; still having his brother there helped process this. Jack was in a coma it seems, Schneep isn’t here for whatever probably-not-good reason, Jackie still wasn’t back from patrol yet. It was just him and Chase. A tear spilled from the magician, but he quickly wiped it away.

There was a long pause between the two brothers, stuck in a time of grief and comfort. Chase had stopped crying, now drained of energy with his head nestled into Marvin’s shoulder. Marvin’s eyes were now closed, still holding Chase tight. The only noise was the soft beeping of the heart monitor, a hopeful reminder that their creator was still alive. Chase quietly croaked out, his voice muffled in his brother’s shoulder,  “What are we going to do, Marv?"

“...I don’t know."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“See you soon.” The video cut to black, and the phone was thrown onto the ground, part of the screen shattering. Jackie didn’t care though, his eyes glowing a vicious blue. His fists clenched, his entire body tensed up, a snarl on his face. It wouldn’t be surprising if his body started to literally fume. The hero was not just angry, he was infuriated. He was going to rip that goddamn glitch apart if it’s the last thing he’ll do. He picked up his phone, huffing at the damaged screen. He stuffed it in his pocket and set off as fast as he could, now with a mission. Either that bitch was coming to him, or he’d find him. It doesn’t matter how long it’ll take him, he’s getting his karma one way or another. 100% Guaranteed.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Wan High Weeping (Part 48)

Kay, so holy shit, this is the longest chapter I have ever written I think lmao.

‘Do you know what you’ve cost me!?’ The message appeared in her inbox on several sites and on her phone. She was very well aware and it satisfied her to the core. Chan had told her; “you got her kicked off of the team, you know?”

At the time, she had not, but she was more than pleased to hear it.

“And what about you?”

“Yeah, me too. They didn’t want that kind of image for the team.”

For a second she felt bad. But really, what did they expect to come out of nudging and jabbing at her when she was already down? Did they think that she would remain embarrassingly passive for good?  Another message appeared from Usha. The girl was all over Azula’s pages, apparently her lesson wouldn’t be learned until after the trial took her down a couple thousand dollars. At least the others had the brainpower to keep quiet and let Usha fuss alone. Even Kori had nothing to say these days. Azula was under the impression that Kori was well aware that she was in the line of fire and if she stepped on Azula’s toes she’d be in the courtroom too. ‘Fucking bitch!’ Usha seethed from behind a screen.

Azula wondered if Yue would find this to be of any interest.

“Who are you talking to?” Zuko asked.

“No one, Zu-Zu.” Azula replied, slipping her phone back into her pocket.

“Thanks for driving me today.” He smiled.

“Don’t thank me yet. You’re driving me to the next one.”

Zuko laughed, though Azula didn’t know what was so humorous about it.

“I figured that I would be.” He noted.

Truth be told, it was kind of nice going with him to the sessions. It was convenient, it saved on gas money, and she didn’t feel so awkward and alone. Granted, this was only the second time they had driven to the session together.

“What are you seeing a therapist for anyways?” It was the second time he had asked.

“Father.” She said, simply. A safely broad answer.

“What did he do to you?”

Azula stood up. “It’s almost four, I think that you should head to the rehab side.” She caught Zuko rolling his eyes at the timing. But he couldn’t argue because, by all means, she was right. “I’ve got to get to my own session.” She started to walk away, turning around only to say, “meet me back here when you’re done.”

She gave Yue’s door two soft knocks and the woman beckoned her in.

“What happened?” Azula asked after taking her seat.

Yue cradled her casted arm. “I was in a car accident over the weekend. It wasn’t too serious, but I’m going to need a new car. I hope that your weekend went a little better.”

“It was fine. Zu-Zu, is living with mother and I now.”

“Your brother?”

Azula nodded. “That is his nickname.”

“How is that going?”

“Fine, so far. We drive here together.”

Yue smiled. “That sounds like a good thing. It looks like your hands are healing.”

Azula looked at the backs of her hands. The scabs on her knuckles had cleared completely. Granted, volleyball had given her a new bruise to take their place. “Yes.” She agreed.

“I take it, you have been sticking to the meal plan?”

“I have been, yes.”

“I can tell.” Yue noted. Before Azula had a chance to leap to conclusions, Yue adds, “your voice sounds less scratchy too.” She pauses. “Doesn’t it feel better?”

Reluctantly, Azula agreed to that as well. She did feel better, her throat wasn’t sore, her stomach didn’t ache, and she didn’t have to deal with cramping, so long as she didn’t pull something during practice. Practice, which she had the energy for.

She wasn’t constantly thinking of food either.

“It has only been a few weeks and you’ve already made a lot of progress. You realize that don’t you?”

It was in the back of her mind, yes, but she hadn’t really had the time to truly consider it. Not until Yue brought it to the foreground. Indeed, she was feeling more like herself. In most regards anyways. “But--.”

She didn’t have to finish for Yue to know. “You’re still worried about your weight, aren’t you?”

At that point, worried might have been an understatement. It was more or less and underlying dread.

“Give your body time, remember? You’ll find that the body is very effective at sorting itself out, given optimal conditions.” She drew out a few files. “Based on what your doctor has forwarded me, you are in very healthy condition, all things considered.”

“I know…” Azula trailed off. She can feel that much.

“Let me ask you something else.”

“Go ahead.”

“Has anyone made any comments about your weight?”

Azula thought for a moment. Neither Zuko nor Ursa had said anything. Nor had Iroh. She thought back to her reunion with Chan. The boy made no comments either, but she was almost certain that he was thinking it. “Not out loud.” She finally answered.

“I promise you, that you are the hardest on yourself.” Yue had said that the last time too. Apparently, a reminder wouldn’t hurt. Azula thought that she could use a reminder. “Just give yourself a little more time.”

“How much time?” Azula asked. She liked to think herself a patient person. But she was running low on it. She just wanted to be Azula again. Truly, Azula.

“It’s hard to say.” Yue admitted. “But you are doing very well, I’d say that your body is already mostly used to eating correctly again.” She peered at Azula’s medical files again. “In other words, I’d say you are at the point where your weight is going to flatline instead of increase. If you stick to your volleyball routine, perhaps add a morning jog on the side, an I think you’ll start to see the results you want sooner rather than later.”

It was the most reassuring thing she had heard all week.

“Two days from now, I’ll be at my first game of the season.”

“That’s wonderful news.” Yue grinned. “You’ll have to let me know how that goes.”

“We’re going to lose.” Azula replied flatly. “But it won’t be my fault. I don’t think that the rest of the team is trying as hard as they could be…”

“Have you considered that this is a good thing?”

“It makes me feel better about myself, I suppose.”

“You need to learn to play for fun before you can play competitively again. I’m under the impression that your father took something you enjoyed and turned it into something that came with a lot of stress. You need to reclaim what you enjoyed.”

Azula sighed. Now that she had at least somewhat of a handle on her eating habits, the woman wanted to start talking abuse. “I already have.” She said. “I like my new team…even though they have no hand eye-coordination whatsoever.” Frankly it their dreadful playing almost made her happy. They were less tense, they made jokes and jabs that were actually funny.

They were comfortable.

“I’ll give them this first game to mess around.” Azula declared. “But they will learn to play good.”

Yue snickered. “I’m sure that they will.” Her smile faded after a moment. “Can we talk about your father, Azula?”

.oOo.

Zuko took a seat and took a gander around the room. It was cozy with a shelf of books and a mural of a dormant volcano.  His new therapist sat behind his desk stroking a silvery beard. “Welcome, Mr. Kasai, I’m Dr. Jeong Jeong.”

“Zuko.” He returned.

“I do hope that we will get along better than you and Dr. Pakku did.”

“We can’t possibly get along worse.” Zuko replied.

“Alright, so what did and didn’t work when you talked to Dr. Pakku?”

“Nothing worked; he never let me finish talking, he always made assumptions, I don’t think that he wanted to work with a former heroin addict.”

Jeong Jeong scrawled something down in his notebook. “I will let you talk for as long as you want, Mr. Kasai...or would you prefer Zuko? Just let me know if I have cut you off or have made an assumption, I will do my best to correct it.”

“Zuko is fine.” He answered. “And I will.”

“Feel free to talk whenever you are ready.” Jeong Jeong prompted. “I would love to know what started your addiction in the first place, so we can cut away the root problem.”

“My family. Especially my father.” Zuko began. “I was pretty young when my mom left, I was about eight years old. Before she left, I always heard them arguing. He would get really loud and I didn’t understand what was going on. I don’t remember what he was yelling about but mother would usually cry. Most of the time, my sister would come into my room because they were being too loud for her and she couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t help because I was afraid too.” He paused. “A lot of the times I think that they fought over me and Azula. About how he was raising Azula wrong and how he was giving her too much attention and giving me none at all. My mother fought him because he put too much pressure on us and we were just kids. I thought that they just screamed at each other. But one day my sister went downstairs--I don’t remember why. I just know that she came upstairs and asked why daddy was hitting mommy…”

Jeong Jeong nodded. “Do you want my input or do you have more to add?”

“I have more to add.” He replied. “After that, I started noticing it more. I would listen for slaps and I would have to keep Azula from going downstairs, because I was afraid he would hurt her too. He smacked me when I went down for food while they were arguing.” He was getting a little ahead of himself. “So I stayed upstairs and sometimes I could hear him throwing things. After awhile mother left, I don’t think that she wanted to, because she wanted to protect us. But my father got the divorce papers and they were in court. She didn’t have any money and she couldn’t prove the abuse, father stopped hitting her around when he decided that he was going to take her to court. So he got custody of us. My mother filed for a restraining order and my father let her get it so he wouldn’t have to waste anymore time.” Zuko stopped to let the man finish writing. “After mom was gone he started abusing me instead, and, I think, my sister too. Father liked to get in her head. She liked being the favorite and he got her to help him hurt me. She mostly said things that hurt. Father did things that hurt. I have scars on my back from his belt. I have them on my sides too. A few years ago we were learning about drugs in my health class. I found out that a lot of people use heroin to get rid of physical pain.

I decided to try it for myself.”

Jeong Jeong took all of that down.

“I am done.” He replied.

“Very well.” Jeong Jeong replied. “Have you since taken steps to protect yourself from your father, because that would be a good start. I would also advice accepting that you shouldn’t crave acceptance from your father.”

“But I do!” Zuko burst out. “I hate him. But I do. I want him to value me.”

“Do you?” Jeong Jeong asked. “Do you really want to be praised by a man like that? A man who would hit his wife? A man like that will only accept a man who does the misdeeds he does.”

Zuko stuttered to form a defense. “Well…”

“Do not defend a man who will not do the same for you. Do not fight to earn the praise of someone who won’t respect you. Do not looking up to a man who looks down on you. Are you getting the picture?”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“That was not my intent.” Jeong Jeong replied. “I do not mean to sound condescending. I was simply trying to tell you that you are a respectable man so you should treat yourself with respect and take less consideration into those who won’t.”

His mouth ran dry. “I.” He tried. “I didn’t think about it like that.”

“Have you taken steps to distance yourself from your abuser?”

“I live with my mother now.” He replied. “And my sister and mother are taking him to court. I plan on testifying.”

“Good steps. Wise ones, it sounds like you have a support system.”

“My uncle and my boyfriend have been really helpful.”

“And what about your sister? You mentioned that she helped your father abuse you?”

“Until this past summer.” He replied.

“And then what happened?”

“She bothered me less when she found out that I was on drugs. I think that she was concerned right before I ran away. She was the one who told my uncle to find me. I think that it’s because he, father, started treating her like he treats me and...she’s different now.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“I think so. She drove me here today.”

Jeong Jeong jotted that down. “I think that what you have going is a good start. Make amends with her. The closer you are to your sister and mother, the less power your father will have. I can get you your file, if that will aid in the court process.”

“That would be great!” Zuko smiled. “The trial is next Saturday, if you can get it by then.”

“That is possible.” Jeong Jeong promised. He looked at the wall on the clock. “For now, Zuko, I would like you to maintain and strengthen your support system. The larger and sturdier it is, the easier it will be for you to stay clean.” He stood up. “And congratulations on one month.” He extended an arm. “You have my respect.”

Zuko shook his hand. “Thank you.”

Jeong Jeong nodded. “Thank yourself, Zuko, you have done most of the work. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“You too, Dr. Jeong Jeong.”

“I will see you on Tuesday.”

Zuko closed the door behind him. Jeong Jeong definitely suited his needs more than Pakku did. Respect. Self-respect. Why hadn’t he considered the concept before?

.oOo.

Azula laced up her shoes and slung her bag over her shoulder.

The bus was about to leave and she couldn’t get the nervous flutter out of her tummy. She didn’t recall ever having felt so nervous before a game. But then, she had never been so out of shape for one either. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that she was doing this for pleasure, not for competition. At least for now.

“You okay?” Chinami asked.

“I’m fine.” Azula replied.

She watched Zirin rummage through her backpack, declaring that she was going to finish her homework during the bus ride. Ikue and Ryoko shared headphones, listening to their music loud enough for Azula to hear the lyrics as well. That left Chinami and Shoko for company. Coach Ruka ran through her pep talk and then left them to socialize. Chinami spent much of the ride showing she and Shoko her favorite cat videos. Azula didn’t protest, she could use the distraction.

Stepping back onto the court in front of a crowd was surreal and disorienting. She scanned the crowd and found Ursa. she caught her mother’s eye and the woman waved. She nudged Zuko who gave a wave of his own. She returned it. She caught TyLee wheeling Teo next to them.

It was her first game in ages.

And the first time her mother and Teo would ever seen her play.

Was she going to lose? Most certainly, but at least it was a game.

At least she was on the court again.

Azula was to make the first serve. She wished that she could pull off a jump serve. Instead she settled for a topspin serve.  She scanned the court for an opening and hit the ball. The opposing team was a speedy lot, they hit it back with ease. Zirin returned their defensive strike. Azula watched the ball go over the net a few times before it came back within her reach. She bumped it back, aiming for the small spot they left undefended. The ball hit the floor with a satisfying thump.

Azula didn’t know who blushed more when Ursa started hollering, she or Zuko.

“Man, I wish my mom loved me that much.” Zirin mumbled, letting the volleyball land on the ground next to her. “Whoops.”

“Zirin, pay attention.” Azula hissed.

“Sorry.” She winced.

They rotated positions and it was Zirin’s turn to serve. She hoped that the girl could at least make it over the net, with her it was always hit or miss. Tonight, seemed like a hit kind of night. Again the ball came in Azula’s direction, a fast hit. Faster than she could manage in current.

The other team made their serve. Another fast strike that evaded Ryoko and Ikue. But Azula wouldn’t let it evade her, not a second time. She spiked it back, throwing just as much momentum into it as they had served the ball with.

She managed to score them another point.

The only other point they managed to steal for the rest of the game.

Azula sighed, that was definitely the worst she had ever done. But at least she had managed to do something. Apparently her teammates begged to differ.

“Wow, that was our best game in a while.” Chinami noted.

“Have we ever scored more than one point before?” Ryoko asked.

“I think that there was this one time when we scored three points.” Ikue pointed out.

“But that was the longest, we’ve ever kept the ball from hitting the ground.” Shoko noted.

Zirin came up behind Azula. “You are good at volleyball!”

“I used to be better.” Azula frowned.

“I don’t know, you’re still really fast. I feel like they wouldn’t have scored as much if we were that fast.” Zirin disagreed.

“Thanks.” She replied. “And, don’t worry, you will be.”

“See, now you’re scaring me…”

“Good.” Azula smirked. “We will be practicing on weekends, starting after this weekend.”

“We will?”

“I will send all of you my address. You all will learn to score points.”

Coach Ruka laughed. “Azula, stop threatening your teammates with the possibility of success.” And then in a mumble she replied, “trust me, it doesn’t work.”

“I’ll get it to work coach, and you will have a team that can make it, at least, to regionals.” Azula vowed. “They’re good at this, they just don’t want to admit it because…” she paused. “Because it’s safer not to. They just need to put some real effort in.”

Coach Ruka grinned. “Please tell them that, they need to hear it. This team, they’ve gotten so used to losing that they just gave up entirely. They have fun and everyone says that that’s what counts. But I don’t think it would hurt to reignite some ambition!” She turned her attention away for a moment but seemed to remember something at the last minute. “Maybe while you teach them to take things more seriously, they can help you learn to play for fun. I don’t want you to make a chore of this.”

Azula nodded. But she did find it enjoyable, the prospect of being able to train a team from the ground up. It was something she didn’t get a chance to do with a group of girls who were so naturally talented. She spotted Zirin conversing with her little brother and her parents. Each of the girls seemed invested with their own families. It appeared that Chinami had a few friends in the crowd, Nagako among them. And for once, Azula had a family to talk to. She wandered over to them. “When did you get here?”

“Towards the middle.” Iroh answered. “I would have been here sooner if my tea kettle didn’t boil over.” He looked as though he were on the verge of tears. “I have not overcooked my tea in years.”

Zuko rolled his eyes. “It had to happen some time.” He turned to Azula. “I thought that you said you weren’t any good anymore.”

“Perhaps that was an exaggeration.” Azula replied. “Still, I’ve played much better in the past.”

“You did wonderful, dear.” Ursa pulled her into a tight hug.

“Mother, please.” She muttered.

Ursa let her go. “Sorry, I forgot that you don’t like hugs. Congratulations on your first game.” She handed Azula an armful of flowers. Teo and TyLee offered her two more small bouquets.

Though she hardly thought that she had put on a flower-worthy performance the sentiment was nice. “I am going to Zirin’s after game party. I might spend the night there.”

“Alright, just call me before bed. Just so I can sleep easy.” Ursa requested.

“Sure.” Azula replied.

She followed her team back to the bus. They were extra talkative this time around. They were in better spirits. Zirin slung her arm over Azula’s shoulder. “Azula says she’s going to help us win the next game.”

“I’m going to try.” Azula replied as Ikue decided to grace the rest of the team with her music. Wan High’s team had never done an on-bus sing along. Azula didn’t think she had ever cringed so hard in her life.  She had certainly never enjoyed doing so.

She certainly didn’t think that she would cave and sing a number with Zirin.

Their spunk tapered off towards the end of the bus ride, it was getting rather late and the energy spent in the game started to catch up. Shoko was out rather cold, snoring silently to herself. Ryoko and Ikue returned silently to their music and Chinami was nodding off.

Zirin continued to speak with her until she joined Shoko.

Left to her own thoughts, Azula pondered upon the game. All in all, she supposed it had gone pretty well. She wasn’t in condition for her jump serves nor her more advanced play strategies. But she hadn’t stumbled around and missed any defenses as she had thought she would.

Perhaps she hadn’t lost as much of her progress as she had anticipated. She just needed to brush up. She would have more than enough time to do that when she began weekend sessions with the other girls.

She tried to think about that instead of fretting over seeing Ozai again.

The bus pulled into the school parking lot. Chinami stretched and yawned before heading to her car.

“You haven’t been to my house yet.” Zirin noted. “It’s pretty close by here, just follow the rest of us.”

Once at Zirin’s home, Azula found a spot to lay her sleeping bag before joining the others in the kitchen. “My mom made cupcakes and we have chips and dip. Oh and, by Shoko’s request, we have brownies too.”

It all sounded enticing, but Azula opted to sit at the end of the table with only a cup of juice. She had eaten before the game.

“Don’t you want anything, Azula?” Zirin offered.

“I’m fine.” Azula replied.

“We just had our first game! Treat yourself, girl.”

Azula sighed. Treats weren’t in her meal plan. She supposed one that brownie couldn’t hurt, she’d just have to keep herself from eating the rest of them. She picked it up and took bite.

“Good right?” Shoko asked. “Zirin’s mom can cook.”

Azula nodded.

“Do you not like, sweets?” Chinami asked.

Azula thought of the question for a moment, deciding that she has known them long enough to just come out with the truth. “That’s, basically, the opposite of the problem.” She confessed. “I miss practices on Tuesday’s and Thursday’s to see a therapist for my bulimia.”  

.oOo.

Zuko was left to assume that Azula’s party had gone well, she was in a pretty good mood when she entered. Zuko was in a decent mood himself save for a bone deep tiredness. Jeong Jeong had prescribed him medication for insomnia, informing him that insomnia, depression, and irritability were all lingering withdrawal effects. Frankly, he couldn’t wait to be free of those.

He made his way into the bathroom and tugged of his shirt. His scars glared at him from within the mirror. He tried his hardest to keep his eyes from wandering to them, it was what Ozai had wanted when giving them to him; to give him a steady reminder of why and how he’d gotten them.

Slipping grades and a lack of natural academic skills. He’d only proven the man right in dropping out. He turned the shower knob and allowed the water to heat back up. It was fine, he told himself, next year he would be going for his GED. And then he could move onto college as he should have done this year.

He stepped into the shower and shampooed his hair.

He grabbed the bar of soap and lathered his body, taking care not to dwell on the ugly pockmarks on his arms. He hated them almost more than the scars his father gave him. At least the slashes on his torso and back were a sign of perseverance, and withstanding. The small indents on his arms, those were a display of weakness and failure. He wondered if he could find a cosmetic to make them less pronounced. He didn’t want his heroine abuse to be displayed so prominently; who would let a former heroin addict onto their campus?

He turned the water off, stepped onto the floor towel, and rubbed a different towel over his hair. He used it to dry the rest of him and then drape it around his waist. He peered at his phone just on time to see a text alert disappear.

He unlocked the phone, hoping that it was Hahn.

‘You ought not to meddle in things that have nothing to do with you.’ The number was a throw away one, but he had an inkling as to what name he could attach to it.

Like hell, the trial had nothing to do with him.

He wandered downstairs to see his sister putting a bowl in the sink.

“Hey, Azula?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you get any texts this morning?”

“Two.” Azula replied.

“What were they!?” He demanded.

“You’re intense today.” Azula replied. “Shoko is sending me memes and Katara told me that Sokka is stuck with a criminal record and community service...and that his daughter was born prematurely while he was on trial.”

Zuko blinked. “That family is having worse luck than ours.” It had been such a long time since he talked to any of them. The last time he’d seen Sokka was when the man was threatening to kick his ass for flirting with Katara during an off phase with Mai. It hadn’t been his proudest moment, especially considering how much he used to pester her for being a stony prude. His cheeks flushed. “I haven’t seen them since...you know.”

“Since you were a complete, jackass?” Azula smiled smugly.

He rolled his eyes. “Since when do you talk to Katara? Last time I checked, you were a jackass too.”

“True.” She replied. “Anyways, why did you ask about the texts.”

“You have your secrets, I have mine.” He wondered if it was safer to let her know about Ozai’s texts or to not give her an extra thing to worry about.

“That’s fair.” She shrugged.

.oOo.

Since the game, practices have been coming easily to her. She liked to think that she was getting back into the swing of things. School itself was going well enough. They had worked out a way to transfer her assignments seamlessly. On a few days she had lunch with Hakoda and a few of her other teachers doing mostly makeup assignments to pick her grades back up to where she wanted them. That Thursday she was back in the cafeteria with the rest of her team and Nagako.

“I keep forgetting to ask.” Ikue spoke up. “Was that your brother who came to our game?”

“Yes, why?” Azula replied between bites of food.

“He’s kind of cute.”

“And suddenly, I’m not hungry anymore.” Azula grumbled. “Luckily for you and I both, he’s taken.”

“Lucky?” Ikue asked.

“Zu-Zu is...he’s Zu-Zu.”

“Good to know.” Ryoko commented as the bell rang.

Zirin hustled to finish the last of her lunch. “I’ll see you girls at practice.” And to Azula. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow. Good luck with therapy.”

After her last class, Azula hurried to her locker. If she was quick enough she’d have enough time to stop at home and get a few assignments done before her appointment. She shut her locker and made her way to her car and to Ursa’s home. Her mother wasn’t home yet so she fixed herself a snack, something to hold her over until dinner time. She used to have snacks, so she’d allow herself one every once in a while. She wondered where Zuko had gone, perhaps to visit Hahn before his appointment. Azula had barely gotten a chance to put her food on the table before she received a text. Pulling out her assignments for the afternoon, she swiped at the screen.

She arranged the assignments from the most tedious to the least tedious and peered at her phone’s screen. It was a clips from her volleyball game. She hit play, hoping to see a recording of her scoring a point. Instead the clip rolled on to remind her of the point she’d let the other team score. It played in a loop, only interrupted by a new text alert. ‘It’s a shame. All of that wasted talent.’

Azula put her pencil down and swallowed.

The man wasn’t done with her. ‘You would probably be faster, more efficient, if you weren’t so heavy.’ She pushed her phone and her snack to the side and snatched up the most difficult of her assignments. It left little room to think about anything else. Not like the reading assignment, that allowed her mind to wander.

She was glad that she was alone.

.oOo.

Zuko tried to slip by as quietly as possible. Azula had never cried in front of him so openly, so he knew that she hadn’t noticed him yet. He didn’t know if he should put the fandom merch Hahn had given him away and return downstairs or if he should put it away and stay in his room. Comforting a venerable Azula seemed like a job for mother, but Ursa wasn’t home.

He rubbed his hands over his face. He had no idea what could even be bothering her, she was doing so well since her game.

His phone sounded, a welcomed distraction until he saw the nameless number. He caught only a glimpse before deleting the damn thing. ‘Street trash,’ ‘disappointment’, ‘worthless dropout’. It was nothing that he hadn’t heard before.

It was the sheer influx of these messages that was getting to him. Every time he blocked the number a new one would appear. Or the number would unblock itself. His father worked with electronics, of course he had the know-how and the resources.

Another text pushed him to approach Azula. He had a good feeling that she had gotten a message or two and he was starting to regret not warning her.

“Azula?”

She wasn’t crying so hard anymore.

“When did you get here?” She didn’t turn around.

“A while ago…” he trailed off. “I didn’t think that you wanted me to see…”

“You are correct.”

He looked at the clock, if anything they could finish their conversation in the car. “What did he say to you?”

“The same things he always says, Zu-Zu.”

“Yeah, he’s been doing the same to me. I tried not to look at them, but I’m pretty sure I got a death threat.”

“I was doing so good…” She mumbled more to herself.

“What do you mean?” In asking he hadn’t expected her to open up as much as she did. He hadn’t expected her to tell him that she didn’t want to go to her appointment because she didn’t want to have to tell Yue that she had thrown up again. “Did you do...that alot?” Was all he could ask.

“Almost daily.” She muttered.

“That’s why they sent you to therapy.” He said quietly.

“That’s part of it.”

“Part of it?”

“They took me away from him because I tried to…” She paused. “I tried to kill myself.”

His stomach lurched. While he was off doing drugs, she had tried to end her life. What kind of older brother was he?  No. What kind of father was Ozai to put the two of them in such places and to try to do it again. “I relapsed too.” Zuko tried. “And I didn’t even need Ozai’s help to do it.”

But he knew his sister well enough to know that even a minor relapse wasn’t acceptable. He didn’t know her well enough to know how to comfort her. “Why don’t we head to therapy, Yue can probably help better than I can.” He wished that it wasn’t true.

“Whose turn is it to drive?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Zuko replied. “I’ll drive.”

.oOo.

“One time isn’t going to set you back, Azula. Not unless you make it into a habit again.” Yue declared firmly. “Promise me that you won’t make this a regular occurance?”

Azula nodded. She did her best to keep eye contact.

Yue cupped her hand over Azula’s, “do you mind.”

Azula shook her head so Yue kept her hand in place.

“You’re handling this very well. There aren’t many people who broke the habit as fast as you have. I’m not that worried about you?”

“Why wouldn’t you be?”

“Because you didn’t try to keep your relapse a secret as some of my other clients have. I can tell that purging didn’t make you feel good, did it?”

“No.” She replied. “It didn’t.”

“Would you like to do it again?”

“Not particularly.” Azula replied.

“Do you want to tell me why you purged again?”

She found it hard, at first, to come out with it. But she decided to rip the band-aid. It was infinitely harder to admit to herself that all the guilt had come crashing down on her with Ozai’s simple message. That she felt bad for treating herself so many times, even if it was just an occasional, perfectly normal thing. The entire session was more uncomfortable than it had been in a long while. She left herself wondering why she had to be this way.

Azula appreciated Yue’s patience and the respect she still gave her. At least she could fall with some dignity. Yue let her go with a promise that she would eat a full dinner that night, perhaps with a desert if she was comfortable enough.

Ursa made it surprisingly easy to feel comfortable.

The woman served stake and ice cream. Azula tried not to think too much about when she was doing, in dipping her spoon into the ice cream. Her mother provided a solid enough distraction.

Her sheer outrage when both she and Zuko showed her the texts was almost comical.

“Just wait until your uncle hears about this.” She muttered to herself. “I swear.” She was pacing and making wild gestures and suddenly Azula knew exactly where Zuko had picked up on that habit. “I will find that man. Did I ever tell the two of you what drew your... ‘father’ to me in the first place?”

“No.” Zuko replied quietly.

“He met me in high school. I was in theater.” Azula couldn’t gauge where the woman was going with this. “He saw me on the stage and said that he had never seen such aggression and passion from one woman.” Ursa paused, leaving Azula and Zuko with enough time to exchange sideways glances.

Azula sucked at what remained of the ice cream on her spoon.

“That aggression was acting. He is about to see real aggression.” The woman sat back down. “Are the two of you enjoying desert?” She asked more cheerfully.

“Yeah, it’s great mom.” Zuko replied.

“Pretty good.” Azula agreed. A bit of an understatement. She did miss vanilla ice cream. She tried her hardest not to let Ozai make her feel bad for enjoying it. But it refused to leave the back of her mind. The trial was in two days and she was going to have to see him in person having made no progress…

No visible progress, she reminded herself.

She had made a lot of progress otherwise.

“Do you want to stay in my room tonight?” Zuko offered.

“What?”

“Like when we were kids. When we heard dad and mom arguing, you used to sleep on the floor…”

“I’m already seeing a problem there.”

Zuko rolled his eyes. “Fine, I can stay in your room and sleep on the floor and it will be sort of like old times.”

“Better.” Azula replied. “Alright, you can stay in my room tonight.” She could use the company. If her thoughts became too much, she could pester him about how his date with Hahn went.

She dressed herself for bed and handed the bathroom over to Zuko, not quite understanding why he just couldn’t use one of the other bathrooms. She had herself draped in blankets when her phone buzzed. She almost didn’t want to look at it, but she picked it up anyhow.

‘So, how many ass-kissing points do I earn if I beat your dad up?’

Azula sighed, wondering what her father was up to on the social media pages to draw Chan’s attention. ‘Depends’, Azula replied, ‘how and when are you beating him up?’

‘I don’t know...honestly, he’d probably kick my ass. But I’d try if it makes up for anything.’

‘Go to bed, Chan.’ Azula rolled her eyes and set her phone to the side. She hated when he did stupid things like that, things that made her remember how things were before her accident. Things that made her smile when she didn’t want to.

Not that she wasn’t going to make him grovel and beg a little more.

Zuko entered the room. “You feeling any better?”

“I’ll be fine, Zu-Zu.” At the very least, she would be eventually.

.oOo.

Zuko eyed Azula curiously. She stood with her head held high, looking for all the world, as if she had no fears at all. She held her hands behind her back, the red power suit and heels worked very heavily in her favor to annunciate a confidence she may or may not have. Mother stood closely next to her as they ran through the opening statements.

For himself, Zuko was dreadfully nervous. He liked to think that his suit was just as sharp as Azula’s and that is posture was as rigid and ready. He didn’t think that Ozai stood much of a chance now that Ursa had financial stability. And even less of a chance with the files Jeong Jeong had given him on Thursday. Yue’s presence wasn’t going to do him any favors either.

Zuko let his gaze fall on Ozai. The man met his eyes and gave a smile with all the friendliness of a vampire. The man had even styled his beard for the occasion. Not that Zuko hadn’t done some self grooming of his own. The man looked eerily like Azula in his manner and he thought that Azula might be trying to outshine him...to out intimidate him.

But she was still Azula and he was still Ozai. Azula had warmth in her that Ozai did not, Zuko knew that Ozai could detect it through her cold demeanor. Zuko listened in on their verbal exchange, finding that Azula was every bit as slick as her father. Every bit as smooth and undeterred in her speech. He only knew that she was nervous because she had mentioned it in passing some hours prior.

“Is it true, Mr. Kasai, that, at one point, you had put locks on the fridge?” The judge asked.

“I have.” Ozai confessed. “But not for the reasons you think.”

Of course the man would lie under oath.

“What reasons could you possibly have for doing so?”

“I have locks for everything, your honor. The fridge was no different. People want what I have. Should someone successfully enter my estate and steal from me, I would at least like to have a meal while thinking things over.”

The plaintiff attorney spoke. “Would you like to tell us when you had the locks installed?”

“I do not recall the exact date.” Ozai spoke. “It is a trivial matter.”

“Can you tell us when he had them installed?” The judge addressed Azula.

“The night after Halloween. November first of this year.” She paused. “I had gone to a party and binged. It was posted on social media. My father had happened upon it and instilled locks afterward.”

Zuko was surprised at how smoothly, how unwaveringly she recounted it. As though it didn’t bother her even slightly.

“By ‘binged’, you mean…?”

“I am bulimic.” Azula replied. “I have a therapist.” She motioned to Yue.

“The courtroom would like to hear from her.” The judge replied as she gave Yue a quick once over. “But first I would like to know what led you to see a therapist and what has prompted your case of bulimia.”

“I had an accident over the summer. It caused some weight gain.”

Zuko hoped that he could be that forward when making his statement.

“Between my father and a few of my peers, I decided that I wanted to lose it quickly. Things weren’t going as I wanted them to. I was hoping for fast results. Father was expecting them. But I wasn’t able to get them. He would make remarks and the like and I would try harder. I would refuse food until I couldn’t anymore. And when I couldn’t resist, I would sneak meals. Halloween was one such time.” She paused. “The morning after, he pulled me out of my room--I hadn’t finished dressing--and made me weigh myself. He installed locks that night. And I overdosed later that week. That is why I started therapy and why I was placed under my mother’s care.”

“On what day, did you make your attempt, Mrs. Kasai?”

“Wednesday, the 4th of November.” Azula answered. “I have documentation.”

“I would like to see it.”

A few hours into the dialogue, the conversation turned to him, “is it true, that a few years ago CPS came to the estate regarding you?”

“Yes.” Zuko confirmed. “Uncle...my uncle, Iroh, called them.” Taking a page from Azula’s script he added, “I have documentation of it. Along with the rest of my profile.”  He passed the files Jeong Jeong had acquired for him. As the judge looked it over he continued. “He has been abusing me since I was around eleven years old. I think, maybe even earlier than that.”

“You have a history of running away?” The judge looked up.

“To escape from this.” He lifted his shirt some.

Ozai scowled. “The result of a car accident.”

“Objection, your honor.” Spoke their attorney. “The only record we have of a car accident involving the Kasai family is one that had been thoroughly examined and proven false. There are, however, reports from neighbors and psychologists, of domestic violence and child abuse. Mrs. Kasai has a restraining order filed against her former husband.”

“One I willingly gave her.” Ozai cut in.

The judge bangs her gavel once. “Wait your turn, Mr. Kasai.”

Zuko caught Azula’s eye. Something about her composed posture comforted him. Something about her expression, leaves him feeling more secure.

And he recalled that this was how she looked at him just before Ozai jumped in and took her side in an argument. How she looked before scoring a winning point.

He held his head higher when the judge came back to him, because Azula knew that they were going to win. And because she was so sure, he was as well.

When they did win, he could finally move forward.

All three of them could.

As a family.

Unburdened and unhaunted by a common tormentor.

He would have a real chance to thrive. He and Azula both.

[roseonhissleeve]

Kiwi: Part Five

A mini-series based in Jamaica during the writing/recording of Harry’s new album. Enjoy. x

Kiwi: Part One // Kiwi: Part Two // Kiwi: Part Three // Kiwi: Part Four

TW: mentions death; loss of a family member.

He woke up to the sounds of the ocean kissing the sandy shore.

He couldn’t remember what time they finally fell asleep the night before. Sleep had already started to overcome him during the last little bit of the night so he hadn’t been fully conscious, but he did remember a few things: stealing soft kisses and gentle whispers, and the sound of her laugh harmonizing with the sound of the waves. 

He’d never seen Cal that relaxed before, and it brought her to a whole new dimension that only made him fall even deeper—it was almost like she was a new person every day. Like she was constantly shifting into new versions of herself. 

He turned over in the bed to look at her—she was laying on her stomach, one of her arms resting by her head as the other remained down at her side. Her shoulders were rising and falling calmly with every breath that she took, and it was almost soothing to see her this relaxed—she had this resilient intensity about her all of the time that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, and watching her sound asleep was perhaps the only time that he saw her with her defences completely lowered.

He groaned inaudibly as he gently rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, sitting up in the bed carefully as not to wake her up. As much as he wanted to stay, he needed to get back to the studio to keep working. He slipped out of the bed and padded across the room quietly, and after some debate, he decided to leave her a note. He didn’t want her to think that he was running off, but he also didn’t want to wake her—he wrote her the note and left it on the bed beside her frame, slipping out of the little home and making his way back to the studio.

Calliope woke up hours later to the beeping of her alarm going off on her watch.

Her eyelids fluttered open drowsily with sleepiness, the kind where you’ve definitely overslept but still feel like you could sleep for days. It had been a long time since she’d had such a deep sleep. She rolled over and half-expected to feel Harry’s body next to hers—when she didn’t, the corners of her lips turned downwards upon instinct.

A small yawn escaped her lips as she sat up in bed and ran her hands through her short hair, letting her palms fall against the mattress as she looked around her little room. There was no sign that Harry had ever been there, other than the lingering warmth in her chest.

She spotted the piece of paper on the mattress and reached to grab it between her fingers, flipping it over to reveal the writing.

Had to run into the studio this morning, didn’t want to wake you. I promise I’ll see you soon. Thinking of you. H.

Cal smiled to herself as she ran the pad of her index finger across the page, tracing the small “H” at the bottom three times before folding the paper up and setting it beside her.

She’d definitely be thinking of him, too.

*

Forty minutes later she was walking into the bar—the green tank top she wore was already sticking to her back with sweat, and when she walked into the establishment there wasn’t a single person there. It was silent, other than the loud and quite obnoxious singing coming from the kitchen.  She couldn’t quite recognize it, but it was upbeat and she could imagine him dancing around in the back. It made her laugh, and she grabbed her apron off of the hook by the bar as she called out.

“Sounding good, Pipo!”

“Livin’ the dream, sunshine!” He replied, still singing.

She giggled once more and began swaying her hips a tad as she walked, enjoying the musical accompaniment that he provided. She swayed over to the phone and picked it up, pressing the key pads so she could check the messages.

There was only one.

“Hi, sweetheart. It’s mom…just calling to check in again. I haven’t heard from you in a little while…we’re starting to get worried. Your father called me the other day and asked about you as well. You should talk to him, he really misses you…I miss you too. Your brothers were wondering if you’d be home for…for Lenny’s birthday next week? Call me, please. I’m worried. I love you.”

The message was ended with a monotone beep, killing her mother’s voice the same way a flatlined hospital monitor cuts through the sad silence of a new loss.

She’d been so preoccupied that she hadn’t even realized her brother’s birthday was coming up.

She stood paralyzed, phone held up to her ear as her breathing halted in her throat. The loud beeping remained in her ear, and she was holding onto the phone so tight that her knuckles were turning white. Her other hand was clutching onto the cord attached to the phone from playing with it while listening to the message, and she was leaning against the wall. Her eyes closed.

TWO MONTHS EARLIER

”I made a bet with my nurse that I won’t make it to my birthday.”

“Lenny!” She huffed, reaching to deliver a gentle smack upside his head from her seat. He groaned over-dramatically, leaning away from her in his hospital bed. “Why the hell did you do that?!”

“We both know I won’t make it, she’s just trying to make me feel better,” he explained, and the nonchalant quality of his voice made her want to yell at him. “I figure after she loses you can pocket the money and buy yourself something nice.”

“How kind of you,” she commented, sarcasm dripping from her voice like the radiation treatment that dripped from the IV bag into his arm.

The sunlight that radiated from the window wasn’t enough to bring life to the pale green color of the hospital walls. It reminded her of puke, and all she could ever think about when she looked at the walls in here was how many people had died in the same bed her little brother was laying in. They didn’t let people bring flowers into the cancer wing, so the room was decorated with paintings of fields and daisies, as if they were the same thing.

“I mean it, you can’t be one of those people who completely lets themselves go after shit like this,” he continued. “When I peace out I want you to take that twenty bucks and buy everyone shots. Celebratory shots. ‘cause I’ll be in heaven and all that crap. Except don’t tell mom and dad, or I’ll come back and haunt you from the afterlife.

“You can’t haunt people if you’re an angel in heaven, I think that’s probably against the rules,” she replied, rolling her eyes playfully.

“Who says I’ll be in heaven?”

“You just did.”

“Oh right. Well, I’ll figure out a way somehow. If I can’t I’ll just get the Big Man to make it rain a lot, right atop of your head,” he amended.

Even though the bags under his eyes grew darker and deeper every day, there was still life in his big brown eyes. He looked skinnier and sickly, and whenever he smiled it didn’t sit quite right on his face anymore.

She felt a pang in her chest at the realization that she would never see it the way it used to be.

“Well I think that you’ll make it to your twentieth,” she forced a smile on her face, leaning forward and pressing her elbows against the mattress of his bed. “It’s only what, almost four months from now? You’ve got that in you. And we’re gonna get you some of those obnoxious gold balloons that everyone poses with on their Instagram. You know, the ones that Kelly basically dry-humped on her twenty second birthday?”

“Fuck yeah, I might as well get some action,” he nodded, causing her to giggle lightly.

And then, out of the blue, his eyes fell shut and his head fell to the side.

Her heart stopped.

The beeping of the heart monitor was loud and echoed in her ears so profusely that she lifted her hands to her head to make sure they weren’t bleeding. A swarm of nurses and doctors entered the room and began yelling over one another as her little brother began to sieze, his body rigidly shaking. At least three pairs of hands were holding him in place, the entire room becoming a symphony of chaos and panic with the melody of a shrieking heart monitor setting the pace.

Somehow among all the chaos she found herself being spoken to by one of the nurses, the one who had brought the orange jello the week before.

“Sweetheart, you need to leave the room now,” she urged, her eyes pleading her not to make everything harder than it needed to be.

She nodded slowly, feeling prickling numbness run up and down her arms as she walked out of the room. The second she left the room the door shut behind her, and she didn’t even have to turn around to know that they had shut the blinds. She could still hear the beeping through the walls.

She rested her back against the door and slid down to the ground, immediately hugging her knees to her chest. She tangled her fingers into her long locks, eyes wide and staring at the large pot of flowers that had just been delivered to one of the nurses at the desk.

Her entire body was numb at that point, and if it wasn’t for the pounding of her heart in her chest, it would have felt like the closest thing to death without actually dying.

Her little brother was three years younger than her.

She had been raised in a house of men—her older brothers loved her dearly, but it was no secret that they pushed her around. All of them were football, soccer, and hockey players, and all of them were stubborn as fuck. Having that many older brothers had its perks: no one dared to pick on her on the playground, and boys thought twice before screwing her heart over. But it always felt like they were on one team and she was the outsider, the last one picked, the one they spent time with out of pity.

Her little brother was the love of her life.

She was absolutely enthralled with him when he was born.

When she was four years old she would push him around the house in his stroller and pretend that they were grocery shopping, or maybe at the zoo.

When she was six and he was three, the two of them played together constantly—he would be her student when they played school, or the baby when they played house.

When she was nine and he was six, he would always check for monsters underneath her bed when she woke up crying in the middle of the night. If that wasn’t enough for her, he would bring in a blanket and pillow from his bedroom and lay down on the ground beside hers, keeping her company so that she could go back to sleep.

When she was twelve and decided that she wanted to be a rockstar, he would play the drums, guitar, and keyboard in their air band all while she sang her heart out on the microphone.

When she was fifteen and he was twelve, she broke one of her mother’s vases after running around in the house where she wasn’t supposed to—he took the fall for her so that she would still be allowed to go to the upcoming school dance.

When she was eighteen and brokenhearted for the first time, he hugged her and rubbed her back for exactly two hours, and never once made her feel like she needed to stop. He sang Jonas Brothers songs to her because they were her favorite at the time, and he watched endless reruns of JONAS on TV until she fell asleep on the couch. Once again, he grabbed his blanket and pillow, and he slept right there on the ground beside her.

When she got accepted to university, he was the first person she told.

When she dropped out of university, he was the first person she called.

When she was twenty two, he was diagnosed with cancer, and her entire world fell apart.

She stood up off of the hospital floor and balled her hands into fists, turning around to stare at the number that has etched onto the door of her brother’s room—number 311—and she closed her eyes, the beeping still ringing in her ears like the screams of a mother’s heartache.

She turned around, suddenly, walking across the room with her hands resting firmly at her sides. There were tears prickling in her eyes and she was drawing attention to herself, but she really didn’t give a fuck.

She grabbed onto the rim of the flower pot that had just been delivered, the tips of her fingers dipping into the soil that was decorated with white specks. There was an array of white tulips that resided in the container, taunting her.

“Excuse me, miss—”

She picked up the pot of flowers and lifted it high above her head, taking a step back onto one of her feet before shifting her weight forward. Small specks of dirt landed on her hair as she send the flower pot flying forward, watching as it shattered against the wall with a loud smash. Everyone in the hallway and waiting area immediately flinched, and she heard a few gasps—but her eyes remained glued to the pile of dirt, flowers, and clay that landed in shards on the floor.

There was a large, dark smudge that was left behind on the pastel green walls.

She glanced over at the receptionist at the desk, who was staring at her, paralyzed with both shock and a bit of fear.

In the background, she still heard the beeping of her brother’s heart monitor.

“No flowers on the cancer wing,” she announced, emotionless.

She stared at the receptionist for a hard second before turning around, taking a seat in front of her brother’s room.

For the first time in her life, she prayed.

PRESENT

Hours of loud, thumping music of the bar had settled into her eardrums as she took orders and made drinks, thankful that she had the distraction for the night. For the most part it was a pleasant night—the regulars were all nice to her as usual, and there were a few new faces who seemed overjoyed by the personality to the place.

Everyone seemed to be in a great mood, except for her.

All she could really think about was the phone call that she’d had with her mother that afternoon. She’d eventually called her back after listening to the voicemail, and she’d been quickly reminded of why she’d never done it before. They spent about thirty minutes arguing over the phone over whether or not she should come home, and what she was doing with her life. 

To her, she was taking a break to decide what she wanted.

To her mother, she was running away like a coward.

“It’s not what Lenny would have wanted,” her mother had said.

As if her mother fucking knew what her little brother would have wanted for her.

She was wiping down the bar at the end of the night, her last customer having left about ten minutes ago. The silence that had been left behind was just as deafening as the thumping music hours before. 

Her jaw clenched and fingers aching from how tightly she was holding the rag in her hand. Even thought the countertop was already clean she kept wiping away at it, trying to scrub off all the dents and scratches that would never be removed.

“What did that bar ever do to yeh?”

Cal jumped slightly, turning around to look in the direction of the familiar voice.

Harry was wearing a loose white shirt that was rolled up to his elbows, with a pair of black skinny jeans to match. He was just as handsome (if not more) as the image of him she had in her head, but she had been so preoccupied with her troubles that she’d semi-forgotten all about him.

Her first thought was to be irritated with how clothed he was when it was absolutely burning hot that night, even though it wasn’t rational for her to be. The smile that had been on his features immediately faded away when he looked at her expression, as if he could tell that everything had gone to shit within the handful of hours after he’d left her that morning.

Did he do something wrong?

“Hey, is everything okay?”

She looked into his green eyes, and suddenly, everything that she’d managed to bury under the loud music and alcoholic beverages she’d made threatened to come undone. 

And it fucking pissed her off, how she could keep it so together for hours and be threatened to fall apart simply by looking into his eyes. It made her mad that he knew that something wasn’t right just by looking at her, and it drove her absolutely nuts that all she wanted to do was have him hold her and tell her that everything was going to be okay.

She was already too attached.

“I’m fine,” she said coldly, turning back around to grab an empty beer can and shove it in the garbage that was beside her. She grabbed the garbage bag from out of the bin and turned away from Harry, walking around the establishment and grabbing empties from the tables. Harry followed her, watching her as she shoved each one into the garbage bag with a little bit more force than the one before.

“Hey…” he said, trying to get her attention. He couldn’t tell if she couldn’t hear him or if she was just ignoring him, but he was confused and rattled and it wasn’t a good feeling. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on, Harry,” Cal huffed, stopping suddenly and grabbing onto the garbage bag tightly with both hands. 

Her back was turned to him, and he couldn’t see that she was trying to keep herself from crying.

“M’not an idiot,” he exhaled, exasperated. “I know something’s up, s’this about last night?”

“No, it’s not about last night,” she half-whimpered, stiffening. She still refused to turn around and look at him, so he walked around so that he stood in front of her. Her face looked especially vulnerable under the bright neon lights of the bar.

He grabbed ahold of the garbage bag and waited for her to let go, reluctantly, so that he could set it down on the ground. He then grabbed ahold of both of her hands, but within seconds she was pulling away.

“Stop, Harry,” she said, delivering a verbal blow. Rejection washed through him, but something told him that it wasn’t personal, not this time.

“Why are yeh doing this?” He asked, his brows furrowed. 

The confusion in his face pained her deeply, and she asked herself whether or not she would have ever agreed to spend time with him if she knew she would become this attached.

“You don’t really like me,” she said, reaching to pick up the garbage bag from the ground. “You don’t, you just think that I’m damaged, right? I’m the girl who gets into fights and jumps off of cliffs, I’m dangerous, and that’s sexy to you, right? I’m a fucking enigma and it’s your job to figure me out?”

“No, that’s not—”

“You want to talk to me, get me to spill all my secrets, get me to be vulnerable so you can get a song out of it and move on. I mean, that’s all you’re doing here, isn’t it? You’re writing your music and you’re getting the fuck out? What did you think we were going to do then?” She continued, her voice high pitched as she forced her tears to hold themselves back.

“No no no, listen, you don’t understand—”

“What don’t I understand, Harry? Tell me. Please, tell me, why you like me so much, why am I worth all of the trouble?”

As he looked at her, he finally understood that she wasn’t actually angry with him. There was something deeper, something so much deeper that he was still unaware of which drove her anger and the pain that she was feeling. 

He could see it in her eyes—where her voice projected lightning bolts of rage, her eyes whispered sonnets of sadness, as if she was pleading to be understood.

“Come with me,” he said, hesitantly holding a hand out in her direction. “I’ll show you.”

She stared at the palm of his hand and then back up into his green eyes, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat.

“Okay,” she exhaled, and for a split second maybe he was everything that she needed.

She asked herself again whether or not she would have ever introduced herself to him, if she’d known this was where she would be a few days later.

And with every part of her being, she knew the answer was yes.

Kiwi: Part Six 

if you enjoyed this chapter, please consider leaving me a dollar or two! x https://ko-fi.com/C0C0VKJI

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[buddaheadcannonsonice]

Rika’s back and MC gets left P. 5

Rika is back and MC gets sick at the same time she feels abandoned. Part 1 (x) | Part 2 (x) | Part 3 (x) | Part 4 (x) | Part 5 (x)

Some say that people experience 3 different loves throughout their lifetime

The first: the young, idealistic kind of love that looks right but may not feel right

The second: the hard love; where lessons are learned and the kind of unbalanced love where making it work is more important that if is actually should work

The love we wished was right

And finally

The third: the wrecking ball; the one we never see coming and teaches us why the rest didnt work out

Looks wrong; but feels right and lasts

Not always will each be experienced in close age gaps following another; some never experience all three

Others are fortuante and only experience one or two

and others believe they have experienced all three in another life

But sometimes love is only a concept and not real for some people in the sense that love only has to be sexual or romantic  and not familial

Whatever the case you need to acknowledge the different loves

Because love is more than just romantic or classified;

Not always will they be romantic or have enough power in them to stir a storm in you, but there is always a level of light within each love

Sometimes, it can be hard to realize, accept, and even move on from; but sometimes it’s best to move on from them, even if they are your family

---

You don't think you can move

The sounds of blades ripping through the air make your ears hurt and pop

Someone is caressing your head

and someone else is gripping your hand

You don't know where you are or why

But you don't feel like you should be there

The voices are distant and unlike anything you can understand

Sometime later the loud blades stop and you’re being lowered by a few people and wheeled away

You hear people arguing and yelling and you still can't open your eyes

Why can't I see?

You can't move either

You feel needles entering you

Machines all around

And feel nice, clean oxygen enter your nose through tubes

Am I in trouble?

You still cant hear well

But you can feel

You feel someone squeeze your hand and someone kiss your cheek

You don't know where they went but after a few minutes they all left

--- Jahee ---

She can't believe it

She doesn't

Not at first, not until V explains

He explains that Rika had always been sick

that she needed to save everyone and help in anyway she could to feel needed and loved

V explained how she could only help them by hurting them and by making MC the middle person

But he didn't think she would hurt MC

Not in a way that would kill her way at least

By the request of Mr. Han

Jahee had both lawyers and psychologist at the standby ready

But her main concern was MC

She thought MC was gone, that she left without goodbye and was hurt

But no; she was wrong

MC was the victim

What will become of her, she didn't know

She wondered if anyone felt like she did bc no one seemed to think that Rika and V needed to be held accountable

It was a game of pointing fingers and “If MC dies what then?”

She needed something more awakening and filling than coffee atm

She needed MC to be okay

--- Yoosung ----

He was livid

How could V blame everything on Rika? She would never do this!

After he saw the messages he threw his phone

He went to Zen to be caught up and both went with Jahee to the hospital where Jumin and Seven were waiting for MC

He needed to see Rika though

Neither Jahee nor Zen complied

He asked Jumin to take him to see Rika but Jumin just looked at him with an unreadable expression and if he asked Seven, Seven wouldnt have answered since he’d have been busy on his laptop

He almost gave up but then saw Rika in a separate room with V

He couldn't stand V

V did this; by allowing this to continue he hurt MC and RIka

He would never ever forgive him

---- Zen ----

The surgery was long and tiring

He canceled everything and stayed in the waiting room Jumin had set up for them rich kid problems

He really had a need just to smoke all his stress away but didnt want to knowing that MC wasnt a fan of the smell and he didnt want her to say that when she woke up from the surgery

He had it all planned out

“Forget Rika and the rest, let's go and travel without responsibilities MC”

And he hoped she'd agree and maybe even offer to take them all to visit her home and family and

he was excited that the pet she had was a dog and not a cat bc poor bby cant sneeze and have fun at the same time

But he knew he just needed to ask for trust fund over there for some help and once MC was out of here hed propose the idea to her and the other members

BUt first he’d need to know how they found her and everything because V was vague and it irritated him how they kept secrets

He thought they were all family; is this how a family should be?

He really just needed a smoke

---- Seven ----

It's an endless nightmare for him

Hacking into the system worked up until he couldn't continue to watch her stats drop

He didnt want to imagine what damage would befall onto MC

AFter flatlining a few times, he was sure that the doctors would call her time of death but they kept at it

Until finally MC stabilized

When the doctors told the rest the news he didnt think he could breathe until he saw for himself that MC was okay and not taken away again by an occult-following quack of a doctor

So he kept an eye on her through the video

He read on the reports the doctors and nurses were inputting into the system but all he could think about was who Unknown was

V would know, but he didnt trust himself to go to V to get answers

Not at the moment anyways

They must have been good to have helped MC

And isn’t there some saying that if a dog likes a person, it’s because they are good?

----

You can hear and feel and think

But you can't see

Am i even moving?

You being to wonder where you have come to that you don’t understand anything anyone is saying

You panic because you feel people touch you,

but you can’t see anyone or anything and it scares you because they cant hear you to know to stop

You try to hear out for your mom or dad

You feel hands on your face and you panic because you dont want anyone touching you there; you cant stand anyone touching you anywhere

You feel something cold run up your arm and then you fall back to calmness...

---- Jumin ----

He couldnt look at her let alone hug her

He wanted to know that she would forgive him

BUt at the moment he really wanted to know that she would overcome this and wake up and smile

Just to see her smile would make everything else fall into a prefecture of being able to breath easy

The doctors said that she would have to continue on the medication and get on a clinical trial that can possibly help her we all know Jumin pushed for her to be in one

But Jumin didnt think everything would ever be the same

They wrapped her face becasue of the medication that Rika gave her, that caused some deformities in her eyes

They got to her in time to save her eyes, but she won’t be able to see for a few days until she fully recovered

They said she would be groggy when waking up and even confused, which should go away in time

They gave her a sedative to relax her so she wouldnt further injure herself 

But it made him confused that she didnt understand them at all or know who was talking

Or how she was feeling all over herself, which caused her to think someone else was touching her and which caused her to panic even more

He knew he should go and see Rika and V but he couldn’t atm, not while MC was like this

Jahee left to get coffee and to make sure the lawyers were ready for whatever was to come:

Either RIka and V are held accountable or not, or if MC decides to leave everyone and order a restraining order- whatever she wanted, he was sure to deliver

--- Rika ---

“It was all for the sake of everyone”

she chanted over and over, not knowing that she was mumbling to herself as V and her cousin stood by watching her from the doorway 

Some time had passed, not knowing what day it was, or what happened after the girl... the one with the sin... after that sinful girl was taken it all went blank for Rika 

She tried to remember but she couldn’t push past the hazy clouds of incoherent memories she didn’t trust anymore 

There was one doctor she liked that she saw 

He was a man of his word and talked to her about religion and even let her explain how that sinful girl made her way into hurting everyone 

and how it was only possible becuase she and how it was only possible becuase she let it happen

If it had not been for Rika, no one would have met MC

No one would have been saved! 

No one would have been liberated from the tribulations and trials and suffering that came with life had it not been for Rika allowing MC into the RFA

And the doctor understood that. 

Rika didnt ask for updates on the sinful girl bc she wanted to know that it was all worth it in the end to save everyone 

“She woke up and scared everyone when she didnt understand them” V talked to Rika as she continued to mumble her chant 

“Thankfully Jumin is fluent in English and was able to talk to MC for the few moments she didn’t remember Hangul” 

Rika slightly upset that she failed 

Hearing the angels mock her as she sat there listening to V talk about that sinful girl made her angry 

She didnt want to be mocked by the angels anymore 

--- V ---

He felt guilty in ways that he knew were sick and twisted 

He shouldnt have defended Rika or he should have gone to seek help for her

He let Rika’s condition continue and grow until she no longer was the same Rika he first met at the gallery all those years ago 

He was too scared to meet everyone face to face after all that had happened; he didn’t want to see anyone out of fear and shame 

MC woke up confused and only understandable through English

The only thing that kept V sane was the small conversations Jumin would have with him

granted they were mainly one-sided, he felt warm and almost forgiven when Jumin talked to him 

He didn’t know if he would ever recieve forgiveness from MC

at this point, he wasnt sure he even deserved it 

But to know that MC would turn out fine despite all he had done and let Rika do would give him comfort for the rest of his days 

------

Jumin calmly explained how you were not in America anymore and that you were in South Korea 

He helped you remember things you already knew but you didn't want them to know you knew 

You figured it would make things easier if you let them think you forgot the majority of everything 

From them abandoning you to the drugs and to the now; you wanted them all to think you forgot the major events 

You did, however, let them know that you did not forget Paco poor bby was sad until he saw you 

You found it hard to lie to them for the first day and then went to slowly ‘remembering’ Hangul

It was not hard to pretend to be weary around them bc they did abandon you and thought you left them without having known you better 

You wanted to forgive them for having left you and forgotten about you 

but you couldnt find it in you to forgive them 

Try as they might, you could not go back to before Rika resurfaced

Zen offered a trip to the States to visit your family, and Jumin ofc said he would pay for the trip for everyone 

Jahee provided a lot of amazing coffee for you to indulge in such the coffee whore you ever are

Yoosung would stop by and cry for a few seconds each visit and then leave the room in an uncomfortable manner 

and then there was Seven 

You dont know why but you couldn't find it in you to ever stay mad at him

You did want to ask him about Saeran, bc you weren’t sure if you should expose Unknown’s identity to a hacker who works for bosses that dont seem to be the best runner-ups for ‘Boss-of-the-year-award’ 

Would he get in trouble? What if by exposing his name, I’d get him in trouble? I don’t want Saeran to be involved. He shouldn’t have to hide either. Where did he go? Would Seven keep this a secret if I asked him to? 

--- Unknown ---

He watched MC convey confusion and watched how she reacted towards everyone 

How she was at ease with Saeyoung and Jumin the most out of all the RFA 

How she smiled when the secretary would give her coffee and when the red-eyed boy would smile back at her after he would helplessly flirt 

Or how she would tense up when the young blonde boy walked in sad and left sad, but how she would fondly smile at the boy when he was not apologizing

Saeran felt like he was part to blame for what happened to her 

Maybe one day he will come back and see how things would work out if he could find out more about Saeyoung 

He felt like he was making all the right choices and for all the right reasons, that is until MC and Paco became his mission, making him loose the game and goal he set out to win 

His primary concern was how to come back to face Saeyoung without malicious intent 

until then, he figured he would go to America and see how things were for a few weeks how convenient that it would be during their trip to visiting MC’s home town 

----

You didnt know if Yoosung would ever look at you the same

it bothered you slightly how the one person who you thought would have stayed by your side would leave you a lot more than the rest 

But you knew 

you knew how this must have all been confusing for him to have discovered what mental issues his cousin was dealing with 

You just wished that he didn't blame V for everything 

bc it wasnt V, it was all Rika 

You know you should forgive and forget but you couldnt 

It didnt feel right to lie to Seven and Jumin 

but you got the sense that they knew you knew 

Somehow it a silent agreement between the 3 of you to pretend that you dindt remember most of the past few weeks 

You were scared of leaving teh hospital because you didnt want to be alone anymore 

but you were scared of the hospital from the beginning since most of everything started with the hospital 

Jumin offered you the best lawyers and doctors and space as an apology 

while Seven kept you company and when he thought you slept, you could hear him profusely apologize 

You agreed to Zen’s idea of a vacation only after V admitted Rika into the psychiatric ward 

Yoosung wouldnt talk to you for days or to anyone, but you felt like maybe he needed to take time to re-evaluate his thoughts 

You enjoyed it when Jahee would bring in a good cup of coffee and talk to you like you used to before 

No one mentioned the illness you had or the Rika events 

It made you happy to not think about the stress or heartbreaking moments 

but it made you sad too because it was your life 

and no one was acknowledging it at all 

You did, however, receive only one letter from Unknown who asked you to keep his real name a secret until the next time you would meet 

He reminded you that you could still talk to Paco about the part of your life everyone was okay with omitting 

And you understood why they wanted to omit that bit of your life, but omitting it doesn't completely mask the fact that it happened 

Maybe this will all catch up and resurface some day to where everyone would come to terms with it all 

and maybe then Rika would be back to how everyone said she was but you found it hard to believe and less thrilling to picture

But until then you figured out to slowly let them into your heart instead of you into theirs, things could be different 

Maybe you would learn to forgive them and learn to trust them as they did to you before Rika 

But you figured it would take time 

A person can only hold out so much before they crumble after having pieces of them chipped and filled away to make space for other people to fit with them

Maybe if you had stayed home instead of venturing for adventure, you wouldnt have become terrified of the dark, needles, and strangers so much 

Maybe if you didn’t answer those messages you wouldnt have become so traumitized by a group of people you considered family 

But maybe if Rika didn’t go crazy on you, you wouldn’t have formed such bonds with people 

And you know that there was still a lot of more to discover of each member of the RFA before you could ever think of leaving your family 

For the moment you would settle with: Rika staying far away from you,

everyone hovering including the ever so distant smoll angry Yoosung,

the constant suppression of events you wanted to make everyone feel guilty about but couldnt bc they did that on their own, 

and the knowledge that this dysfunctional group of misfits would be your final, unforeseen, and third love.