#child lab experimentation

[siennasfix]

Pareidolia

Chapter 3 "Tipped scale"

*****

<<<Chapter 2 Chapter 4>>>

Trigger warnings: 1. Mentions of child torture 2. Mentions of child being experimented on in a lab 3. Strangling attempt 4. Imprisonment

The cold and musty dampness of the cell had numbed her buttocks. After having tried to stand for hours on end, she’d gotten so dizzy that the only choice had been to lie down and embrace the high possibility that she would fall ill. Now and again, a shudder would roll through her with such violence it almost knocked the breath out of her.  She could no longer feel her nose and her toes were next. The only thing she could be certain of was the fact that none of this could be as bad for her as it had to be for her little sister. 

Luna had been taken to a different cell, one used to hold prisoners charged with crimes too great for the human world, but not enough to endanger the divine order. The latter granted you a far crueler fate. A trip to the fields of punishment while you were still breathing and not allowed to die. What was the difference at that point? The possibility that you could escape? The knowledge you wouldn’t? 

But she wasn’t there. She wouldn’t be sent there. Luna was only a girl of nine. What she had seen had scarred her, rendering her unable to sleep. She didn’t have the power or the training, least of all the intention, to commit those murders. The council had to understand that. With Y/n a witness, they would understand that. Maybe she could get someone else to testify as well, but so far no one came to mind. No one who didn’t have the influence or intention to make things worse. 

She dreaded the moment she would have to face the council as Professor Philomena Laqueus would be in it, presiding and whispering in the Head’s ear. Her fate was largely decided by those who held no neighborly feelings toward her or her younger sister. She dreaded it… dreaded it. 

But nothing chilled her blood as the thought of all those students being in the hall, a replica of the Colosseum, watching like scavengers for remains to tear off her sister’s corpse, even if they would keep her alive until Y/n died under any circumstance. They needed a blood piggy after all, and they were the last of the Old Bloods on earth. No, they wouldn’t kill her. They would keep her alive, somewhere. Keep her in a state of miserable existence until Luna truly was alone in the world. 

While Y/n was deep in thought, someone was making his way down the corridor leading to the cells below Lex Principalis, each step more uncertain than the one before but with the certainty that if he were to go back, he would sorely regret it. After all the bargaining he had done, the only way was forward. Still, when he stopped before the bars of her cell, she thought him to be a mirage. A cruel creation of her fancy. 

“Did you have to run into the forest like that?” 

Lee Minho wasted no time with formalities or sympathy, even if he wished he could spare the time for them. They were entirely unhelpful at the moment. 

Y/n looked to the wall on her right, finding comfort in the stone. Anything but a human being. Especially one standing there, safe, sound, and secure in his strength. 

“You’re only here to judge I see.” She muttered. 

Minho had no plans of leaving though, not before fulfilling his self-appointed mission. It didn’t matter that she turned the other way. But he could make it easier for her to adjust to his presence, and so he crouched down, careful not to touch the bars buzzing with electricity. 

She looked so helpless, sitting in the damp ground of the cell, breathing in the mold, waiting out the days with only rotten food in her system. Not only that, she certainly felt weak as well. If any of the guards felt like beating her, she couldn’t fight back, even in the dark. Minho could tell by her broken nose, the bloodied hands, and the collarbones peeking over her zip-up hoodie that she was close to dying. Maybe she didn’t know it. 

“She’s being held in a lab, you know?” He stated matter-of-factly, and instantly, she stiffened. “Everything she fled from is being done to her as we speak. All those tests, mostly blood tests. You understand, don’t you?” 

Y/n stirred, looking at him with tired dark eyes. 

“I was wrong. You’re not here to judge.” She said, more to herself than him. “You’re here to gloat.” 

“Does it look like I’m gloating?” 

She dug the heels of her mud-caked palms into her eyes, shaking her head. 

“That’s it. I don’t know what anything other than humiliation looks like. That’s what you look like to me. I don’t know you.” 

“I thought we agreed that I wouldn’t make a spectacle out of you. I’m your mentor, aren’t I?” 

“That doesn’t matter anymore. No one will let me train after this, and if Luna gets taken away, there will be no reason for me to do so.” The whimper died in her throat. “It’s pointless.”  Minho groaned. “What’s pointless is moping around.”  “Whatever.” You don’t understand anything. You’re not the one in a cell. She brought her knees to her chest, wrapping shiver her arms around them as if to keep his words from affecting her. Again, she whispered, “Whatever.” 

For a minute or two, they let the sound of water leak down the stone walls, dripping from the ceiling at even intervals, fill the space between them. Silence would be either too kind or too cruel, and neither was wanted. But Minho did not have all day. He had duties to fulfill, a training regiment to stick by (though he loathed to do so), and his friends were bound to take note of his prolonged absence. Hyunjin worst of all would be able to put two and two together, and Minho, mischievous and cunning son of Hermes though he was, didn’t trust himself to withhold the truth from the beloved son of Aphrodite. It was, in every sense of the word, impossible to do so. He could be persuasive, persistent, and pitiless in his every pursuit. Especially when he believed it to be something he truly desired. It did not help that Yeonjun and Beomgyu were in the simulation chamber with him at the moment, likely discussing his nonattendance. 

He had to do what he’d set out to do by coming here and do it quickly. 

“Will you get closer already? I have something to tell you.” He beckoned in as low a voice as possible. She peered distrustfully at him from above her folded knees. He then added, “It’s good news, I promise.” 

Minho figured her silence was as much an approval as he would get considering the way the conversation had flown so far. 

“I heard, from a friend of mine who is an eavesdropper by trade, that they are considering releasing you tomorrow morning.” 

That single sentence sparked hope in her heart. Those dark beads of hers lit up so much so that in the obscurity of the cell they glittered as if with tears. 

“Do they believe me now?” Her arms loosened around her legs and Y/n pushed herself to crawl toward him. “About Luna and I being innocent?” 

Minho chuckled. “Gods, no. They just need your blood, and being held in captivity like this is bound to kill you.” 

Her emaciated face fell, the faint pipe dream in her eyes going out like a light. It was pitiful to watch, but she needed to know. Not that she didn’t already. 

“Oh…” Y/n let out, her arms once again wound like vines around herself. “It doesn’t matter. As long as I’m out of here.” 

Minho nodded. “Yeah, you will still be under surveillance.” 

“Like… guards?” Y/n asked warily. 

“Animals. Cameras.” He looked at her pointedly. “Students.” 

The last one is loaded, an ill omen of sorts. The very creatures that to this day had ignored her at best and mocked her at worst, were to now become the very eyes that scrutinized her every move, the very mouths that hurled accusation after accusation. But what if it didn’t end there? What if they took it upon themselves to serve justice and beat her senseless? Would anyone care to heal her, if only so they could hurt her again? 

Y/n gazed at Minho, wondering whether he would care enough to keep her alive just so she could live out the rest of her days with a tube stuck to her arm, feeding the altars. Randomly, she wondered what his friends thought of all this. Did they find it amusing, hearing about her being locked up while her sister was treated like a guinea pig, reading in the paper about how old bloods were vile creatures after all? Or did they not give a shit in the slightest? 

Minho rose to his feet and produced something from the left inner pocket of his leather jacket. 

“Brought you something.” He said, tossing her the Rubik's cube for her to catch. It almost slid off her grasp palms, but once it rested securely on her palm she began to study the colors swirling in each little square; aquamarine, vivid orange, onyx black, vermillion red, viridian green, and brilliant gold. Minho pointed at the cube. “Green, green, gold, red, orange, blue, black, green, green.” 

Y/n had feared he was expecting her to solve it, so this was a relief. She tapped each color as he’d instructed and when nothing happened, looked up at him questioningly. 

“Say “in bloom”.” And so, she did. 

Where the Rubik’s cube had just sat now spread out a blanket the color of which reminded her of the forest in full bloom. In the sunlight, she might have been able to appreciate its coloring better. But it was the comforting warmth it provided that mattered. Wanting to revel in its softness, she rubbed the rim against her grimy cheeks. 

“Thank you.” She sighed, tucking her shivering frame inside the blanket. 

Patting down his jacket, Minho took one last look at her. Before he made for the exit, he made sure to let her know what must be done. 

“In the morning,” He said, “Or whenever they come for you, say ‘nature is a whore’ and let it burn, will you?” 

She didn’t need to ask what he meant by that. If he were found to have provided a means of comfort to a prisoner without being authorized to do so, his ambitions, his life even, would be put in jeopardy. All traces of his kind gesture had to go up in smoke. And so, they did the moment Y/n uttered the words upon being awoken by the sound of footsteps coming down the murky corridor. She had a good night’s sleep. It had kept her warm throughout the day as well. Minho had done enough. Far more than he was allowed. 

Four guards equipped with swords handled everything (securing her hands behind her back with handcuffs of tempered steel and celestial bronze) without a word spoken between them and led her up a spiraling staircase. Once the gates of steel yawned open, the muted sun of the dusk stung her eyes. She could barely see where she was going, and if not for the guards leading her toward a vehicle, she would have hurtled down the stairs. 

To her, it didn’t matter where they took her as long as it was back to Luna. But the more time passed, the closer she came to realizing that the road was an unfamiliar one. The buildings were loftier. Engines whirred to life and car honks blared. Roaring laughter echoed in the emptier parts of town. Silence died down as they drove her deeper into the heart of New Rome, where the most opulent of divinity’s offspring spent their days in unfathomable comfort. Slowly, Y/n began to recognize the paths they were driving on. After all, she’d run all the way here from their pathetic dwelling in the wee hours of the morning. They stopped at a red light and once the green flickered to life, the driver took a turn to the left. Just a little further ahead they would have had to drive around the fountain at the center of which stood the overawing statue of Jupiter. Not that it was something she wished to see anytime soon. 

The uncaring attitude she’d been able to maintain began to dissipate. They were not driving her home, but neither were they taking her to see Luna. Just where were they taking her then? Was there some secret lab around here she didn’t know about? Where they could suction the blood out of her veins while sedated? If so, who would be there to make sure Luna’s innocence was proven? Who would go out of their way to search for the truth when blaming an old blood was so convenient? 

“Where are we going?” She asked the guard on her left. He remained silent, so she asked again. “Can you tell me where you’re taking me? Please?” 

Her question went unanswered once again, but in the mirror, she caught the driver’s eyes staring at her. Something had to be wrong with the reflection, manipulation of the light, or her eyes deceiving her, because his gaze flicked fretfully between her and the guards before turning to the road ahead. Y/n shifted in her seat, trying to keep the handcuffs from biting into her flesh to no avail. The metal had broken skin and it left her feeling all the weaker. Her barely suppressed whimpers were the only sounds in the vehicle. 

The frail silence didn’t last long, however. In no time, the driver had pulled over and they exited the car. She had but a few seconds to take in the sight of the building or the garden at the front before they were practically dragging her inside the building. The five entered the elevator, her in between the four of them, and the one at the front pressed a few buttons. Instantly, it shot up and stopped at the 23rd floor with a ding. After stepping out, the guard who had pressed the buttons rang the doorbell as you couldn’t simply enter the penthouse without knowing the passcode or if you weren’t one of its inhabitants. None of that mattered right now. Why was she here? Shouldn’t she have been rotting in a dungeon? She hoped the anxiety didn’t show in her frown or in the way she shifted her weight from leg to leg as they waited for the resident to open the door. 

The metallic lock clicked and a peculiar sound went off as the door swung open. On the threshold stood a tall young man clad in his training gear. He was probably heading out for the obstacle course or the Training Center. His face looked familiar, and for good reason. Y/n had seen him before. She’d heard him snicker at her incompetence along with his companions. Again. Why was she here? Clearly, he lived here. So, why was she here? 

He scratched the back of his head where the dark hair had been cropped shorter than the top. The guard to her left stepped forward. Y/n couldn’t help but pity the man as he looked painfully average, in every sense of the word, next to the younger demigod. 

“We received orders to escort the prisoner Y/n L/n to this address.” He reported in a clipped tone. “Specifically, to Mr. Lee Minho.” 

“Minho isn’t available at the moment.” Minho’s friend informed them, meeting her uncomfortable gaze just before she turned to stare at the nape of the guard who had just spoken to him. “You’re dirtier than I expected.” 

No surprise there. Actually, as much as it hurt to be told that it was also kind of pleasant. No other student except for Minho and Seungmin spoke to her, and the absence of social interaction was bound to take its toll on any human being. Still, his comment wasn’t one she had an answer to. Nor did she wish to find one. 

Figuring she wasn’t going to say anything back, the young man turned to the guards. 

“I’m one of Minho’s flatmates. He told us you’d be delivering her this afternoon so don’t worry.” Out of the corner of her eye, Y/n saw him open the door wider and motion for her to cross the threshold. “You can entrust her to us.” 

The guard looked back at her skeptically then, after mulling it over for no longer than three seconds, replied, “We were told to escort her directly to Mr. Minho. This is not regular procedure.”  The guy throws his head back. 

“So annoying.” He groaned. “Just get inside.” 

The guard’s posture went ramrod straight. “We cannot- 

“So rigid, too.” Minho’s friend quipped, taking hold of Y/n’s arm and pulling her inside. “I know you’re not popular with the ladies.” 

Then he shut the door in their face, the electronic lock making that sound once again. He walked past her but she didn’t follow, something he eventually noticed and expressed his confusion about.  “Well, don’t just stand there.” He remarked. “Follow me already.” 

Y/n took off her shoes and jogged up to his side. “Where are we going?” 

“To the bathroom. You stink.” 

She glared at him. He was starting to get on her nerves. It wasn’t like she wanted to smell bad. But it had been like what, a week since her imprisonment? They hadn’t exactly provided a warm shower back in her cell. Not even a cold one. She’d had to piss in a dingy corner and couldn’t even shit because there was nothing to shit out. Her nails were caked with blood and scratches (face, knees, and hands) from when she’d clawed her way out of the bush had become infected, oozing with yellow and greenish puss. There were so many thorns still stuck inside that it ached to rub her hands for warmth or clench them into fists. Three of her nails, two on her right hand and one on her left, had vanished in her mad pursuit of sunlight, while another had only been torn halfway and she’d had to rip it out herself her first night in the cell. So, Minho’s friend would have to forgive her for the filth that she was. 

Some of her annoyance abated when she took in the size of their apartment. Spacious and luxuriously furnished, it allowed room for so many emotions to flood inside her; green with envy, a petrifying sense of awe, a nostalgia for what she’d never experienced, and more. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, its numerous tiny crystals resembling the tears of nymphs in Chiron’s bedtime stories before he started bringing picture books for her to flip through. The couches, arranged in a squarish sort of formation before the TV that occupied half of the wall, were much bigger than Luna’s bed and far more comfortable looking. Lying there must feel like floating, Y/n thought to herself as she followed Minho’s friend up the stairs. She wished she had more time to imbibe each lavish detail, from the drawn navy-blue drapes from which the sunset overflew onto the bone-white carpet, from the sculptures in the corner to the paintings on the wall, but she was even more desperate to feel clean. Perhaps then the other demigod would stop giving her those repulsed looks. 

“I’ll go get you some towels and clothes.” He let her know once they reached the bathroom on the second floor and opened the door to let her in. “None of them will fit but you were never supposed to be here anyway so you’ll forgive us if we’re unprepared.” 

Then he left her there to stare at all the commodities. Shampoo bottles on several stands and other containers of different sizes. A porcelain sink the shade of ivory that was so clean it sparkled and an elliptical mirror above it. Below the sink, there were lower cabinets for storing whatever (she couldn’t imagine what more they could possibly need). But the things that stood out the most to her were the shower cubicle with its glassy enclosures and the large bathtub parallel to it. Her bathroom only had a rusty mirror, a chipped sink, a toilet, and a shower head they never used because boiling water cost less. 

Minho’s friend returned, placed the folded clothes on the rim of the bathtub, and started explaining everything to her like she was five.  

“That’s for your hair.” He pointed to a white bottle. “That one’s for your hair too.” A cylindrical container this time. “That one for your body. That’s for scrubbing” Another shampoo bottle, this time crimson red, and a brush. Lastly, fixing her with a serious look, he pointed at a rose gold container about the size of the previous one. “That one is off-limits.” 

Y/n got closer and looked up at him. “Which one should I use first? For the hair?” 

His jaw all but dropped. 

“You’re joking.” He tried to say as evenly as possible. When she shook her head, he pointed to the cylindrical container almost robotically.  “This one, for the ends of your hair after you’ve shampooed it.” 

After that, he left and closed the door behind him. Worried that one of his friends might enter the bathroom while she was showering, Y/n locked it and began to undress. There was not an inch of her body that didn’t ache. Scrubbing was difficult but she managed to clean her festering wounds somewhat. There was nothing she could do about her nails. 

When she was finished, the bathroom smelled of pine needles, honey, and lavender. It was the first time she could wholeheartedly say she enjoyed taking a shower. A warm, long shower. 

Then, Minho’s friend, who came upstairs just as she exited the bathroom, escorted her to one of their spare rooms, gave her a bottle of water, and told her to wait there until her mentor got back. No complaints there, even if it was so that he and his friends didn’t have to look at her. She didn’t want to see any of them either. Pompous pricks. 

Sitting still wouldn’t bode well with her nerves so she spent the next two hours pacing around the room. At one point she crouched down to inspect a curious-looking object. Its translucent exterior made it appear as though nothing stood between her and the wall. But a closer look revealed the sheer glitter within the glass, scattering and converging depending on the angle the sunset impaled it. Anyone else would have moved on. But it was so pretty. Did galaxies feel like this? 

Two hours later, the door opened. Voices poured in from the kitchen on the first floor. 

“Hey.” Minho greeted. 

He looked not much different than the day before. Same leather jacket. Same dark pants. The same black boots with mud splatters all over. The difference wasn’t in how he looked but in the look in his eyes as he watched her rise from her spot on the floor. His eyes flicked to the object that had put her in a trance then back at her. She must look a tad easier on the eye now that the filth had gone down the drain. Literally.  

“Did you know?” She asked him. “That they were sending me to you?” 

Minho stepped closer, unzipping one of his pockets in the process, and sat at the foot of the bed. Y/n didn’t know whether it was right to sit next to him. 

“I didn’t think you’d like the thought of living here even if it’s just until the final verdict. So, I kept it from you.” 

True. Y/n wouldn’t have been ecstatic to live with him and his friends, no matter how long. She hadn’t forgotten how they’d mocked her amongst themselves. The friend who had let her in was a jerk. Beomgyu had smoked weed right after Ruth’s farewell ceremony. Hwang Hyunjin gave her the creeps. None of them liked her and the feeling was duly reciprocated. 

Despite all this, Y/n would have preferred to know. At the very least, she would have been prepared for his friend’s unsolicited criticism. 

“Did Professor Hajjar put you up to this?” She tried to speak clearly, but it came out as inaudible muttering. 

Somehow, Minho understood her. 

“The way you say that… yes, he pulled strings to make this happen. Would you rather be cold and starving in that damp cell underground that reeks of dead rats?” 

Somehow, Y/n had managed to incense the one person in this house who wasn’t disgusted by her. They settled in a fog-like silence⸺ him sitting, her standing⸺ with no idea of what else to say. A voice called from downstairs and Minho rose, the bed squeaking in response.  

“Dinner’s ready. Supposedly. Can’t be sure with Beomgyu on kitchen duty.” He cracked his neck and, noticing her unwillingness to follow, asked. “What is it?” 

This time, her voice came out much clearer. “I want to be alone.” 

Minho studied her for a few prolonged moments then walked towards the door. 

“Alright, I’ll bring you some food.” 

That night she dreamed of fog and stars. Shadows followed her. Other shadows beckoned her. She heard them call her name, whisper vows of secrecy, screeching. At one point, it didn’t matter where she ran. The hunch of being followed persisted. Yet the entity glued to her side never showed itself. It was only when she ended up at the edge of a gaping pit⸺ no stars, no galaxies, things neither dead nor alive in sight⸺ when she felt the pull of something draconian, from time immemorial, when the ground shook beneath her feet and she almost plummeted into the yawning abyss, that Y/n felt it yank her back with unparalleled conviction. It wanted her alive. 

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

She told Minho she didn’t want to have breakfast not because she wasn’t hungry but because she didn’t want to be around his friends and so he wouldn’t have to play waiter for her. Despite his insistence and her desperate hunger, she refused. Everything felt too much. Too much silence. Too much noise. Too many and too few people around. Too much of everything yet not enough. She was going to throw up if she put anything in her mouth. 

A royal purple hoodie and a pair of wide-bottom jeans sat at the foot of her bed. They looked brand new, like the outfits the mannequins at the store wore. She’d always wanted to try them on but one look at the rich materials and she knew it was a pipe dream. But now she could try them on. Clothes had never felt so good on her skin. Minho asked if the clothes fit and she answered honestly. Nothing ever really fit her. 

Downstairs, his friends were lounging around (it was quite early after all). Upon their appearance, Minho’s nameless friend stopped scrolling through his phone, Beomgyu began tying his shoelaces, and Hwang Hyunjin put on his denim jacket. The looks they gave her were various degrees of scrutiny. Yeonjun muttered something about how she didn’t look much better than the day before, making her flush in embarrassment. His friend, the more chipper of the four, Beomgyu, looked at her the way one would at a creature at the aviary; wide-eyed, humorously, as if she had just performed a particularly clever trick. At least, he walked away. Hwang didn’t bother to do even that, glancing at her every five seconds as they walked out of the penthouse with Minho in between. 

The walk to the university was tense. There she was, the sister of a suspect, confined on all fronts with no means of escape. Maybe she should have taken Minho up on that offer and had breakfast. But where would it end up? On the pavement after she hurled her guts out? Surely, Minho’s nameless twerp of a pal wouldn’t take kindly to that. 

Things took a turn for the worse once they reached campus. Y/n became the sole recipient of the student body’s hatred as well as the personnel. If the hearing wasn’t in a few days, she would surely be used for target practice. Some of the students ignored her completely. But it wasn’t the kind of effortless disregard she’d been experiencing for years, but a conscious refusal to acknowledge her existence. If anything, that made her feel more visible than ever before. 

It being Tuesday meant she had no classes to attend that were taught by Orlova. Still, she wasn’t allowed to sit where she usually did. Given that Minho was two years older she couldn’t be supervised by him while simultaneously attending her classes, not that anyone gave a shit whether or not she did. However, to accommodate everyone’s needs, Principal Jiang decided that she had to be seated next to Hwang Hyunjin for reasons unbeknownst to her. Maybe it was his good looks. Maybe he simply was just that good of a fighter and could knock her out. Doubtful. Even the rats in her apartment could do that with a little effort. 

They didn’t exchange one word throughout each morning class. From the corner of her eye, she spied him spinning his blue pen with his fingers as if it were second nature. His eyes were glued to the board as Professor. Magnus Voelker explained the mechanics of the advanced cameras used in surveys conducted by NASA, and normally hers would be too. This was robotics after all. Thankfully, he never caught her fleeting glances. Even as he escorted her to the dining hall, his behavior was the embodiment of nonchalance. He must be quite confident that, should she try to escape, he would put an end to that fiasco. 

Once they reached the dining hall, Minho took over and Hwang Hyunjin left her side to join his friends at their usual spot. After that, it was Minho’s turn to stand guard whether that be on the line to pick up her tray or at her table. She didn’t make it to the latter. 

“What’s she doing here?” A voice frothing with venom cut through the hall. The only sound remaining was that of someone’s heavy breathing. “What the fuck is she doing here?” 

Minho cursed under his breath, and Y/n turned to meet the source. A girl with almond brown hair whom she’d seen in some of her classes, whose name she couldn’t recall, stormed her way only to be held back by a young man with a stocky build. She struggled against his hold. He whispered something in her ear, which only added fuel to the fire. 

“No, what?” She snarled, pushing him off after he muttered something only the girl could hear. “What, we’re just supposed to be cool about it? Let her stay here and stink the whole place up?! What about Juliana, huh? Ruth?” Her hazel eyes flashed as they landed on Y/n, and she stormed over. “Why are you just standing there? Get out!” 

Before she could get her hands on Y/n, whose hands were shaking to the point where the bowl of tomato soup had spilled halfway and the utensils clattered against the tray, Minho stepped in between them. 

“She can’t. I’m supposed to guard her and right now I want lunch.” He glanced back at Y/n. “She stays.”  

The girl didn’t take kindly to that. Her face betrayed her innermost feelings; betrayal, incredulity, and, lastly, loathing. 

“Fucking traitor.” She spat, slightly lowering her voice. “Ruth was your sister too.” 

“Yeah, she was.” 

The girl tried to push him but he caught her hands. 

“So why are you protecting her?” 

“Protecting?” Minho let go of her wrists. “That’s not what I was assigned to do.” 

She dug two fingers into his chest and bit out. “Lapdog. That’s just what you are.” 

Y/n couldn’t handle the way everyone was staring, watching the fight unfold as if it were a freak show. It wasn’t fair for Minho to be insulted in front of everyone just for trying to fulfill his duty. 

Trembling, she stepped up from behind him, and said, “I don’t want to be here any more than you do.” 

Minho placed a hand on her arm. “Don’t interfere.” 

The girl redirected her wrathful gaze to her and knocked the tray out of her hands. The utensils clattered to the ground. The porcelain bowl shattered and the soup spilled, splatters of it landing on Y/n’s new jeans and shoes. Never before had she been so mortified to be seen. She’d wanted it for so long and now she was receiving it in the foulest way possible. Through all this, she missed the way one of the students left his seat. 

“You and your sister,” The girl growled, hand wrapping around her neck and pushing her down to the floor. Minho intervened but was having a hard time overpowering her. Y/n found it difficult to swallow her fear, her energy spent on trying to claw the girl’s hands off of her. “Are the worst thing to have happened to this world. Filthy fucking creatures.” 

“Cleo, that’s enough!” Minho yelled, still trying to get her to let Y/n go. 

One of the male students sprinted over, grabbed Cleo by the arm, and dragged her away. The latter screeched and thrashed but the muscular male warned her not to try anything else. Minho helped her to her feet, and she finally felt like she could breathe, wheezing more like it. 

“Let me go! Am I wrong?!” Cleo pointed at Y/n once the demigod he’d let her go. “Everyone thinks so! They’re just too chicken to fucking say it. She and her disgusting worm of a sister should be cut up and thrown into Tartarus. Their kind brings nothing but misfortune. You know I’m right! It’s the truth!” 

Y/n suddenly became aware of someone else’s touch on her shoulder. Someone who wasn’t Minho. 

“You’re the reason we can eat.” Cleo’s lips tilted up at the corners. “And soon, the worms are going to eat your sister.” 

“Hey, now that’s wrong.” Said the person who stood next to her. His bleached hair and soothing, deep voice should have given him away. But maybe he hadn’t spoken until now. “She’s just a little- 

“You stay out of this.” Cleo cut him off sharply. “This is none of your business.” 

“But you- 

“Shut the fuck up!” 

“That’s enough!” 

A voice boomed that shook Y/n to her core. It was as if one moment she’d been sailing on a rocky boat in the middle of nowhere, the storm raging all around her, and then a grounding silence. She looked to the right, where a male demigod⸺ firmly built, with curly dark brown hair, and eyes that might be sweet but right then expressed stern disapproval⸺ crackled with power as he took in the scene before him. Even Cleo stopped her kicking and screaming at the sight of him, as did everyone else. 

“The hearing is four days away.” He stated, fixing all of them with a look that warned them not to act stupid. “If any of you have any complaints about her being here, take it up with Professor. Laqueus.”  He shepherded the crowd back to normalcy, quelling the heated blood between them and Y/n (if only momentarily), and tasked the other demigod who had previously stopped Cleo from choking her to death with accompanying the girl back to her seat. Knowing better than to disobey, she marched back to her seat with him in tow.

Minho leaned in and whispered, “Let’s go, Y/n. I doubt you want to eat here after this.” 

Before they began to walk out, he looked back to see Lee Felix walking back to his friends. 

“You should hurry up.” Felix seemed surprised, his eyes widening, to hear Minho talk to him. “Lunch is almost over.” 

Y/n didn’t get the chance to thank him or even see his response to what Minho had just said. He was eager to get out of there, possibly even more than her. 

One thing about Lee Minho? He didn’t bother changing her mind when she headed straight to bed right after they went back to his apartment. There wouldn’t have been any use in it. She was but a corpse standing; her neck black and blue, no food in her system, and wounds that wouldn’t heal. Whatever he had to say could wait. 

Hours later, sometime past10 PM, Y/n was awoken by a series of knocks at the door and Minho stepped into the darkness of the bedroom. She didn’t remember pulling the curtains shut, having passed out on the bed almost instantly after her body had hit the mattress. Maybe he’d thought they would help her sleep better. Now, he drew them to reveal the view of New Rome stark against the night. Y/n could swear this was when the city came alive. 

Minho turned on the bedside lamp to her right and set down the tray of food. It took some time for her to finish the bowl of tomato soup as it hurt to swallow. When she was done, he put it aside.  “We should talk about what happened.” He said with a serious look in his eyes. “The whole truth.” 

Just as it hurt to swallow, it hurt to speak. When she did, it sounded airy and raspy, like a small rock chafing against a boulder. It came out broken the first few times until she resolved to speak slowly.  “How can I trust you won’t twist anything just ruin Luna’s life?” 

“You can’t. I just think that since you’re going to be living here for a few weeks we should at least come up with a plan. For that,” He paused as if considering his next words carefully, “You have to tell me the truth.” 

Y/n looked down at her hands. The soft flesh where her nails had been had begun to itch. 

“Those don’t sound like your words.” She muttered. 

Minho sighed audibly and got up. “Professor Hajjar is doing his best to come up with a solid defense strategy. I’m just helping him.” 

He sounded sensible enough but giving away information just like that wasn’t something he or any of his friends would do if they were in her shoes. In fact, Y/n was willing to bet they would withhold it just because they could. They would do it for fun. It pissed her off that he would demand it of her. 

Y/n tried to tear her eyes away from her fingers but they ached and itched miserably. She wished there was a tool to scratch them and relieve her of the discomfort. 

“I’ll tell you,” she said, looking up at him. “Under one condition.” 

“You’re in no position to place conditions.” 

“Then I won’t tell you.” 

They held each other’s gaze, which was no small task for Y/n. She tried her hardest not to let trepidation show in her face, even if the golden glow of the bedside lamp was the only source of light in the room. Downstairs, a cry of frustration was heard, sounding a lot like the Beomgyu guy, but not even that succeeded in destroying her efforts. On the other hand, Minho didn’t seem all that affected. He took a few steps backward to lean against the side of the closet. 

“Shoot.” He said. 

“I want to see Luna.” She shot him a pleading look when he looked away. “Professor Hajjar got you in, didn’t he? When you came to visit? Then he assigned you to- 

“It isn’t up to him.” He revealed. “It was Professor. Laqueus who assigned me to you. Professor. Hajjar used to be one of her students and her protégé, which is why he managed to put in a good word for me. It was easy for her to believe I wouldn’t allow you to do as you please.” 

Recalling recent events, it was easy to see why. “Because Ruth was your sister.” 

Minho nodded. 

“Convincing her to let you see your sister won’t be easy.” He remarked. “She doesn’t stand to gain anything from your reunion.” 

Y/n swung the covers off of her and sat at the edge. 

“But she does.” She appealed. “If she allowed me to see my sister, she could learn the truth. I would tell her.” 

Minho stared off into space, a thoughtful expression taking over, as she anxiously waited for his response; fingers clenched around the baby blue sheets.  

“I’ll tell Prof- 

Minho had barely gotten out those few words before she threw her arms around him. 

“Thank you!” Y/n squealed into his neck. 

Anyone else would have pushed her off and called the cops on her. She was a stranger known by all, including Lee Minho. He didn’t owe her anything, but if he was willing to negotiate on her behalf, she would be in his debt. Yet he let her wrap her skinny arms around his fit frame and pat her head. 

“Don’t get your hopes up, though.” He told her in an attempt to set realistic expectations. “She could refuse to bargain just to spite you.” 

She could. But maybe she wouldn’t. There were only two people who might be able to provide a smidge of concrete proof. A testimony of sorts. Luna must be refusing to talk or they wouldn’t be hounding Y/n about it, and the latter would keep her mouth shut unless they agreed to her terms. Putting them on the spot was a risky gamble. If only she weren’t in a tight spot herself. 

In cold sweat. That’s how Y/n awoke. The fog from her dream seeped into reality, making it hard for her to even tell the time when she looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was 2:19 in the morning. She felt her cheeks with the back of her hand, sweeping the damp strands of hair away from her face. Cold, clammy flesh. Everything, from the shirt that stuck to her skin to her parched throat, would have been worth it if she could remember what the dream had been about. Only a nightmare would have her panting so. 

Too afraid to go back to sleep, Y/n sat up, back against the dark blue headboard, and listened to the life of New Rome. It had dulled a little, settling into a hum with only irregular intermissions of car engines revving in the distance. The city lights grounded her but it wasn’t what she wished for. She wanted calm. Silence like never before. She wanted to hear Luna’s voice. She needed a towel and a glass of water. 

The shadows in the room swam before her, performing for her and only her. In them, she saw leaves, rain, a child’s smile, hands clasped around another pair, buildings rising from the floor until back to it they returned, crumbling. She waited for an encore but nothing danced across the walls. Not a peep. Just as she was about to give sleep another chance, a bout of unintelligible whispers flooded into her ear. Y/n squinted in the dark. The shadows seemed to rain horizontally, droplets splashing on the wall with each sound. Could that be a hallucination? 

“…dated her.” 

Curious. Why would the shadows try to gossip with her about people’s dating lives? Why did the voice sound so familiar? There came a sigh, and after that, the sound became clearer. It was as if she were a participant in the conversation. It left her mouth feeling drier than before. 

“What does that have to do with what happened?” 

That voice she could never forget. Silvery with peril swimming in each note, the presentiment of being shadowed in the woods. Hwang Hyunjin. The haze of sleep had dissipated and now Y/n was left frozen in her bed, clutching the sheets tighter. The sudden awareness that he existed in the same house, at night, chilled her to the bone. 

“Did you, or did you not receive her text message the night she was killed?” 

She recognized the other voice as belonging to Minho. A frustrated Minho. 

“I did,” Hyunjin answered. “I ignored it.” 

A tense pause, and then, “Why?” 

Hyunjin sighed once again. 

“Because there was nothing between us and I didn’t think anything serious was going on.” 

“Her message read ‘I’m being followed please help’.” Minho whispered in disbelief. “How the fuck is that not serious?” 

“She used to do that the first few weeks after we stopped seeing each other.” 

“After you broke things off out of nowhere.” 

Hyunjin scoffed and when he next spoke, it was as if the temperature in Y/n’s bedroom had dropped at the very least 20 Celsius degrees. 

“I’m not going to be lectured by you, Minho.” 

The pitter-patter of the shadows played the rhythm of their breathing. Minho’s breath caught in his throat and he gulped down whatever he had meant to add. Hyunjin’s breathing was deceptively calm as if the conversation had meant next to nothing to him. Y/n wondered whether he looked the same or if there were, by any chance, a hint of a frown or a sneer. Some trace of malice to cement her opinion of him. 

But what if he wasn’t even there? What if this was but a figment of her imagination, tricks that her mind was playing on her to make up for Luna’s absence, trying to make her feel in control of something as primordial as the dark? It was a fact that nothing was under her control, try as she might. Maybe her mind was desperate for the illusion of it. Any other demigod would not have questioned the veracity of their visions and jumped straight into theorizing or action. Why couldn’t she do the same? Why did she feel stranded?

Y/n sat at the edge of the bed, stopping just to listen to the sound of footsteps disappearing down the corridor. One of them had already left, but if she managed to catch sight of the other then that meant her vision had been true and not a hallucination. She forced her legs to walk and all but held her breath as she opened the door, fearing it would squeak. Leaving the door slightly ajar seemed like the safest option if she wished to be silent. Descending the stairs to the floor below had her heart pumping outrageous amounts of blood. She could hear it rushing throughout her veins. Her ears buzzed with it. 

“You look scared.” 

She almost jumped out of her skin in the living room. He sounded so close, almost as if he was breathing down on her neck, but when she looked to the left, she saw him leaning against one of the glass walls. He was still in his training attire, his hair still matted from practice. Had he truly been practicing late into the night? How had Y/n not spotted him when she could literally see in the dark?  He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to respond. 

“I was- I was thirsty.” She stuttered out. 

What was she supposed to say? That she woke up out of breath and that the shadows hijacked their conversation so she could eavesdrop? Whatever they had spoken about was clearly supposed to remain between them and them alone. Hwang Hyunjin might actually kill her if she told him the truth. 

He walked up to her slowly. They were almost face to face when she noticed his hair was no longer in a half-up-half-down hairstyle. Damp strands clung to his beautiful face. His dark eyes rove over her face, gleaning information from each micro expression of hers. 

“Is that so?” He said, and Y/n couldn’t tell if he was genuinely asking or mocking her. 

Hwang Hyunjin studied her for a few seconds longer before walking up the stairs. Shaken, Y/n went to the kitchen and drained two bottles of water, taking a third up to her room. At least she wasn’t becoming a victim of her own mind. 

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

Minho had promised to speak with Professor Hajjar before classes started and, though he didn’t divulge much in the way of details, he had kept his promise. It was a great start to the day. Luna and her would soon be reunited. 

In all of her classes, she sat by Hwang Hyunjin. He was just as silent as the day before, spinning his pen, jaw propped on his palm as he absorbed the lesson from start to finish. It was a miracle Y/n jotted down a few sentences considering how distractingly nice he smelled. She hoped he didn’t notice her passing glances. Truly, it was embarrassing how secretive she was with it whereas he stared at her unflinchingly whenever he pleased for however long he saw fit. Not a care in the world if it made her uncomfortable. Why couldn’t she do the same? Why was she so embarrassed to look at him as they walked alongside each other from class to class, when their classmates would approach him during breaks to fool around, or when he handed her back to Minho like a fish that he’d been asked to take care of while the latter was away? 

Other than that, things went as smoothly as they could, given the circumstances. Cleo didn’t get a chance to choke her as they didn’t share any classes and Y/n didn’t have lunch with the rest of her peers. She didn’t need to. Minho had taken the time to prepare their lunches (two boxes with ham sandwiches and something he called pesto sauce, sliced apples, peeled oranges, two pop tarts each, and a nasty concoction that she’d been so curious of that Minho had offered her a sip). They finished their meal in an empty classroom. No one around. Voices drifting from outside the door. 

After classes were done for the day, the two of them headed to the Training Centre. Y/n had been secretly hoping he would let her skip today as well, ashamed of her lack of everything. Everything that made a demigod a demigod, save for supernatural abilities, she lacked. Agility, marksmanship, strength, speed, stamina, endurance, resilience. It was just too late.  

“If you don’t master the conventional pin forget about doing anything else,” Minho repeated for the fourth time since they’d started training with knives. 

“I know.” Y/n huffed. “I just don’t understand how I’m supposed to just know.” 

Minho collected the knives that had clattered to the floor after her failed attempts and placed one of them in her palm. 

“How could you when you’re not even present? You’re not even trying.” 

Before she had the time to sulk about how he didn’t realize how difficult it was for her to get the fundamentals of knife-throwing down, a demigod she didn’t know approached them and whispered something in Minho’s ear. Y/n pretended she was busy studying the handle of the knife, but anyone could tell she was snooping. It was considered a bad habit but it had become second nature over the years. When the other student had gone on his way, Minho quelled her curiosity. 

“I have to leave.” He told her. “Principal Jiang has called for me.” 

Then who was going to train her? Was she to stay there and practice on her own until she managed to make it stick at least once? 

“Should I leave without you?” Y/n asked as she watched him pack his gym bag. 

Minho shook his head and took a swig off his water bottle. 

“No, it’s forbidden.” He shot a glance across the room, where his friends were taking turns plunging knives into the target board. It seemed fun when they did it. “Hyunjin will take over while I’m gone.” He slung the strap over his shoulder and said, “See you at home.” 

He approached his friends and had a word with Hwang Hyunjin who she could swear rolled his eyes at her. Asshole. It wasn’t like she wanted to be taught by him either. With Minho gone and Hwang coming toward her, the room seemed to have shrunk to the size of cardboard box. She wanted out. 

He glanced down to where she ran her thumb across the handle of the blade out of uneasiness. Still, Hwang said nothing of it, choosing instead to look up into her eyes again. Y/n averted her gaze, breathing in. 

“Should I throw?” She suggested. 

A beat later, he plucked the blade from her hold almost as easily as a flower in a pot. 

“No need.” He said simply, shooting her a bored look before walking up to the designated line. “Watch.” 

Hwang Hyunjin must have been born with a blade in his grip. The fluidity of his movements and the speed with which he sent the blade flying while barely looking in the direction of the target board had her gawking. Minho had mentioned before that while he was great, Hyunjin was phenomenal. It’s just that with everything moving so fast, Y/n hadn’t given it much thought. Now that she’d seen it for herself, there was nothing she could do but open and close her mouth like a stupid fish. 

As he walked back to her after retrieving the knife, Y/n pointed at the board. 

“That was- how did you do that?” She stuttered. “Is there some kind of trick to it?” 

“Get in position.” 

The admiration faded as annoyance took its place. He could have at least answered her question, however stupid it might have sounded to him. Had it sounded stupid to him? 

“The first thing you need to consider when throwing is the distance.” He explained, and suddenly Y/n was all ears as he got behind her, parting her knees and adjusting the angle of her torso. “It determines the number of rotations. The closer to the target you are, the fewer rotations you need to land a critical hit.” 

Y/n nodded, all too alert. “Okay.” 

“Adjust your grip.” He instructed, breath fanning the apex of her cheekbone as he fixed the placement of her fingers along the handle. “Didn’t Minho teach you this already?” 

“He um- he did.” 

“Follow his instructions.” 

“I’m trying.” 

Hwang Hyunjin scoffed. “No, you aren’t.” 

Y/n caught her bottom lip between her teeth to prevent herself from crying for no apparent reason. Was she embarrassed or did she feel wronged in some way? 

“Minho said the same thing.” She said under her breath. 

Y/n felt his hair graze the shell of her ear as he leaned forward, his chest brushing against her shoulder as nimble fingers guided hers. 

“Hold it up here,” Hyunjin coached. “The farther you move from the target, the higher you need to relocate your grip. Even though it comes down to strength at one point, the grip is still crucial.” He distanced himself, taking his pleasant body heat with him. “Throw it.” 

Y/n looked back just in time for him to raise an eyebrow at her reluctance. That straightened her up real quick and she sent the knife flying. Something was wrong and Y/n couldn’t pinpoint what. Had she not exerted enough strength? Had she let go too soon? Either way, the blade clattered to the floor and she was forced to make the walk of shame to retrieve it without meeting Hwang Hyunjin’s eyes even once. He was probably rolling them again anyway. 

When she got back, blade in hand and eyes on every surface but him, he spun her by the shoulders and parted her knees with his own. Hands at her waist, he adjusted the angle of her torso. 

“Breathe in. Tighten your core.” She could feel his chest rise against her back with each instruction, “Throw. And this time,” The mocking lilt of his tone made her shrivel with shame, “Try to make it stick.” 

With that, Hwang’s body heat parted from hers and Y/n felt like she could breathe at last. It was a few seconds until she could do as he’d commanded, and even when she felt confident that it would at least reach the target table she was met with the sound of the knife clattering pitifully on the floor, a few feet from the table. Involuntarily, she looked to Hwang and once she did, she couldn’t look away. His boredom was palpable. 

“You’re so weak.” He remarked. “Too pitiful to even call you prey.” 

That Hwang Hyunjin was bored out of his wits, she could understand. That he was also callous and didn’t have her good interests at heart it was hard not to notice. But he had a job to do when Minho was unavailable; he had to guard and teach her. He wasn’t happy with it? Big fucking deal! Neither was she. None of this was going to get Luna out of the lab or keep her alive, and with the way he always spoke it was becoming increasingly more difficult not to claw at him like a harpy. 

“Is that why you’ve been staring me down like a creep?” 

Both Y/n’s glare and question were met with an impassive look as if he couldn’t give less of a shit even if he tried. 

“Is that why you ran away that night?” Hwang countered. 

Her limbs froze. She scanned the room for places she could use as shelter for when the sentries came for her. The only thing she could think to do was bolt for the exit. But she’d be caught and Luna would be all alone and it would all be his fault. 

“I didn’t run away.” Fuck, she was gasping for breath. 

Hwang scoffed, slapping the flat side of the blade against his palm. “Of course you didn’t.” 

The bastard was definitely taunting her and she couldn’t force him to stop. She couldn’t force him to do anything. On the other hand, he could. There was no place she’d rather be than anywhere he wasn’t, even if it was just for a few hours. Getting to Minho’s penthouse would get Minho in trouble, that’s for sure, but if she didn’t get away from Hwang Hyunjin, she’d pass out from poor respiration. 

Y/n had just started to make a break for it when she heard it. 

“Leaving already?” He challenged. She turned back only to see he was spinning the blade with his fingers. “You must not want to see your sister after all.” 

Y/n glared because she did. There was nothing more she wanted at that moment than to see her little sister. How dare he state otherwise? Was he taunting her again? Was it something else? A threat maybe? Would he really tell the higher-ups about what had happened that night and cast more suspicion upon Luna? 

While Y/n was busy chewing on her bottom lip, contemplating whether to try to run away (key word; try) or just swallow the fear Hwang inspired in her, he had pushed himself off the wall and sauntered toward her. Slowly, without her realizing, he’d led her back to their spot. 

The demigod placed the blade on her sweaty palm and, in an even voice, commanded, “Be a good little student and get in position.” 

Trembling fingers wrapped around the handle, Y/n did as she was told. 

When Minho came home later that evening, he knocked twice before Y/n eventually grumbled in response and he entered. 

“We don’t bite so come downstairs and eat with us.” He said, palm planted on the doorway as he peered at her bundled-up shape in the darkness. She buried her face under the blanket. “Y/n.” 

“Who else will be there?” She spoke, her voice muffled. 

Minho sighed and she could hear him approach her bed. Her fingers tightened around the edges but he pulled them off her with ease. 

“As I said,” He turned on the lampshade and walked away like he hadn’t interrupted the first decent nap she’d had in a long while. He’d changed out of his training gear, now in an eggplant purple hoodie and grey sweats, and the pleasant scent of mint lingered. “We don’t bite so come down or you’ll go to sleep without dinner.” 

Y/n planted her elbows on the mattress. 

“Haven’t experienced that before.” She groused. 

Minho laughed softly. 

“Smartass.” He muttered before vanishing down the corridor. Didn’t even bother to shut the door. 

Y/n looked around the room, examining the expanse of the wall before her for dancing shadows or morbid visions. Only after she felt certain neither would plague her for the time being did she pluck up the courage to go wash her mouth and face and join the rest of them for dinner. Surely enough there they were, eating slowly as they talked about… whatever it was they talked about. All of that died down when she pulled out a chair next to Minho. Only momentarily though. They were back at it in no time, pretending that she didn’t exist. 

The first thing she noticed was that there wasn’t a fork or a spoon but two chopsticks. She’d never used them in her life. Hadn’t had a reason to. 

“Hold them like this.” Minho showed her the proper way to hold them and the clamping motion. It took a few tries for her to get the gist of it (she sucked). “And don’t eat too fast.” 

She couldn’t eat too fast. It made her feel sick and she’d end up vomiting on their precious tapestry. Gods knew how much it had to cost. 

Y/n was trying to finish her bowl of rice when Choi Beomgyu spoke to her for the first time ever. 

“How did you kill them?” 

She couldn’t move a muscle. All eyes were on the two of them. “What?” 

“Gyu stop this bullshit,” Minho warned. 

Beomgyu waved him off, smiling like the insensitive idiot he was. 

“Ruth and Juliana.” He chirped as though he was asking her if she preferred dogs over cats. “How did you kill them?” 

Y/n shut her eyes. “I didn’t.” 

“So, it’s true then. Your sister did?” 

“No, she- 

“Such a little girl with such an appetite for bloodshed.” He sing-sang. “Truly, a monster of all time, isn- 

The bowl and the chopsticks clattered to the floor, the sound of metal hitting the floor and porcelain shattering rining throughout the living room. 

“Shut up!” Y/n shrieked, eyes still shut tight. “Shut up! Shut up!” 

Minho barely managed to get her to sit back down (she didn’t even remember standing up), when Beomgyu spoke once more. 

“Don’t get all riled up now.” His did not sound as chipper as before. Perhaps the young man was afraid of what Minho might do if she broke any more bowls because of him. “I’m just asking since we’re living under the same roof you know. It’s not like- 

“We didn’t kill anyone.” Y/n scanned the table, studying their expressions. So muddled were her wits that each one, be that concern, fear, or intrigue resembled that of a pool of repulsion. “Not that you care.” 

With so much more than she wanted to shout but couldn’t find the courage to, and with the awareness that each step of hers was weighed down by someone’s acute stare, she walked up to her bedroom and got under the blankets once again. They’d shed the warmth and she had to rub her feet for a while until she got comfortable. She’d just started dipping her toes in the pond of dreams, light scattering at the edges of her vision as she readied herself to submerge when a knock dragged her ashore. 

Before Minho had the chance to say a word, for she knew what he intended to ask of her, she beat him to the punch. 

“I want to see my sister.” Her eyes remained closed. “Or I’m not telling you anything.” 

He let out a sound akin to a groan of exasperation. 

“The more you keep the truth a secret, the more they torture her.” 

It was as if a tornado had ripped off the eyelids from her eyeballs. Frantic, Y/n threw off the blankets and got to her feet, Minho following suit in an attempt to placate her. 

“Torture?” 

“Calm down- 

“No!” She pushed at his chest, her breathing getting shallower by the second. All sense was gradually being replaced by the gnawing need to maim. “You said they’re just- they were just running tests! She didn’t- she hasn’t done anything! You- 

“Y/n!” 

“What are you doing to my sister?!” 

His round, brown eyes widened in disbelief at her outburst, even though she’d just had one merely half an hour ago. 

“You think losing your shit will help her?” He jabbed two fingers at his temple. “Think, Y/n. Think. The only thing you can do for her is tell me the truth.” 

She was already in tears, sobbing as she wiped at her nose with the back of her hand like the disgusting fucking freak she was considered to be. 

“Take me to her.” She begged, looking up at Minho in hopes that he could answer the desperation in her eyes with mercy. “She has to know I haven’t abandoned her.” 

“I would if I could,” was all Minho delivered. “But they’d have both our heads for trespassing. The only way I can help you is through Professor Hajjar. Think about it. You think you have the luxury to keep your mouth shut? Not talking will only make things worse for you during the hearing, which is three days away by the way. Get this in that head of yours, Y/n. Your sister might be doomed either way but you have a chance to do something to save her, yet you choose to remain silent. If she dies, the fault will be yours. No one else’s.” 

That did it for her. Still shedding tears, she looked him in the eye with more hatred than she’d ever had the gall to show in front of another human being. Chiron had warned her not to, that they would treat her infinitely worse than they already had, that they would strip her of what little human rights she still possessed. But she couldn’t remember any of that. Not when Minho, who didn’t deserve her wrath, who wouldn’t hurt her even if she didn’t know that, stood before her, wearing the face of all the people who had hurt her. 

“You’re just like the rest of them. You want me to talk so then you have an excuse to be rid of me and Luna for good. You want us to rot in a lab until we die just so you can eat.” Y/n spat the following sentence through gritted teeth. “I wish all of you would just die.” 

Minho frowned. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Was he upset? Disappointed? So angry he could beat her to a pulp then and there? What was he feeling at that moment? Had she managed to wound him even a tiny bit? 

He simply reached inside his pocket, where he’d stored a small packet of napkins, and handed it to her before walking out without a word. Sleep did not come easy this time. The pond was dry. 

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

If it weren’t for the stiffness of his shoulders whenever he spoke to her, Y/n would have thought last night’s conversation had been a hallucination. Minho made her breakfast, packed their lunches, bought her chocolate milk at the convenience store on their way to the university, and sat with her in an empty classroom once again. It was his duty to guard and train her. He didn’t have to take care of her, teaching her how to massage her muscles, buying her vanilla soaps and rose-scented shampoo, or even asking if she’d like to join them for movie night on Thursday. Truly, Y/n felt ashamed of the way she’d acted, even if those had been her genuine feelings at the time. Even though those same feelings persisted, she knew that he deserved an apology. But she didn’t know how to do it properly. 

In the library, as she sat one table away from Minho, Y/n brainstormed while occasionally glancing his way. Each time, his eyes were glued to the page. Each time, she felt a little more guilt-ridden.  At one point, someone took a seat opposite from her, and when Y/n raised her eyes, she was relieved to see him sitting there. It had only been a week or so since they’d last sat this close. He, of course, had made no effort to speak with her. Why would he? Kim Seungmin was not her friend. But she’d felt his absence nonetheless. 

“It’s been a while,” Y/n said, smiling. Though she was used to being ignored, this time it felt different. His eyebrows were tense and his mouth was set in too straight a line for it to be attributed to concentration. Cautiously, she tried again. “Are you angry at me?” 

Seungmin looked up then back down, turning the page. “No, but I will be if you keep talking.” 

Y/n felt cold with embarrassment all over and she did not speak again for fear that her throat would clog up halfway through the sentence. She had a feeling that would annoy him more. They sat in silence, each busy with their own tasks, until Seungmin did something he’d never done before. 

“Where did you get that?” 

Startled that he’d struck up a conversation, Y/n looked up from the page she’d been scribbling on. He nodded at the book that lay on top of her backpack. 

“I didn’t steal it I promise. Professor Hajjar gave it to me.” Yet she felt like a criminal still. She felt guilty, and it must have shown on her face because Seungmin deadpanned. Hoping to convince him, she added, “Do you want me to lend it to you?” 

“I have a copy back at home.” 

Y/n picked at her nailbed with the unmaimed fingers. “You must have read it front to back.” 

“Three times.” He specified, taking a pencil to jot down notes on the margins. “The third part, the one on the Underworld, is the best in my opinion. Elaborate without veering off track.” 

Smiling, Y/n flipped through the pages of the book until she found what he was referring to and dog-eared it. The shiver that ran through her was one of excitement. No one, other than Minho and Luna that is, bothered to talk to her. She had taken to having discussions with herself, asking questions that only she’d bother to try finding the answer to, whiling away the hours of the night when the stomach pangs kept her from much-needed rest. 

“You’re shivering again.” Seungmin pointed out, sounding just as disapproving as before. 

Y/n let out a sheepish laugh. “At least we’re not in the lab, right?” 

The young man made as if to speak only to look back down, fingertips toying with the top corner of the page. Y/n didn’t know what came over her. Maybe it was the way he pushed up his glasses, the slightly disheveled hair from when his friend had ruffled it during recess, or the knitted cream sweater over the white shirt that made him appear the complete opposite of the way he spoke. It was all completely irrational. At that moment, it just felt like the right thing to say. 

“You did the right thing.”  

Seungmin examined her face for answers the way he did with samples at the lab. 

“What?” He asked. 

“Ignoring me.” Y/n clarified, scrawling at the edges of her handwritten apology. “You did the right thing.” 

The confusion melted off his face, gradually replaced by understanding. He held her gaze for a few seconds longer before looking down once more. 

“It was the strategic thing to do.” 

Back at the apartment, things were rowdier than ever. Beomgyu had gotten the brilliant idea to just blast music as loud as he could without getting kicked out permanently, leaving Y/n with a brain-scrambling headache for the entirety of the evening. Eventually, Minho put an end to the madness, finally granting Y/n some time with her thoughts. 

Sitting in the shower, Y/n had never felt so clean yet so filthy. Her neck was littered with bruises it was hell to scrub at it. Her fingernails were so cracked and torn that it hurt to hold a pen. Despite the stretching and the massage, her muscles ached terribly. At night, she was plagued by visions, and every time she thought that sleep might alleviate the symptoms, she was proven wrong. 

She thought about the dining hall incident, Cleo’s rage, her fingers crushing her windpipe, and the repulsed acknowledgment of the other demigods. She thought back to when Luna had pleaded not to go to school but she’d forced her to, anyway. How Y/n regretted not having let her stay home and draw princesses on her little sketching pad. None of this would have happened. Luna wouldn’t be used as a lab rat, and she wouldn’t be faced with the choice of speaking or remaining silent. Both equally rotten. 

For the first time since… she didn’t remember when, Y/n bit into her arm to stop herself from screaming. The tears and snot ran down her face, making her feel all the filthier. The muffled screeches were the only way she could speak. She didn’t deserve to be spoken to. She should have stayed in that shabby hut in Camp Half-blood. She should have stayed in the forest with Luna. They never should have returned. She had convinced Luna it was for the best and look where that got them. She was so stupid she wanted to die then and there. She deserved to be alone. 

Minho called out to her from the other side of the door, asking if everything was fine. Y/n bit into her arm just a little harder, enough to draw blood, and then let go, affirming that she was alright. His footsteps receded down the corridor. 

In her room, as she arranged her backpack for the next day so the rest wouldn’t have to wait for her, Y/n spotted the book Professor Hajjar had gifted her. She recalled her conversation with Seungmin and thought about how, regardless of her choice, she would never speak to him again. Even if Luna was released, Y/n would never see the sun again. She’d be locked up in the lab, getting drained on a schedule as the years wore on, and the rest of the demigods would go on to explore the world, creating families of their own, and share urns with their beloveds. She would get cremated, her ashes cast into Tartarus. Then, it would be Luna’s turn. 

Y/n placed the book on the nightstand. 

Downstairs, Minho had just finished preparing dinner. She offered to help him set the table but he shook his head saying that Yeonjun was supposed to since he’d shirked his kitchen duty and that the least he could do was help him with the utensils. The taller demigod rolled his eyes, made an offhand comment about her damp hair, and got to work. With nothing else to do but wait, Y/n sat at the table and zoned out. 

Every time Minho snapped her out of it, she slid back into that empty space until eventually, Yeonjun had enough and snapped at her to just eat. Startled, Y/n picked up the spoon and tried not to let it spill. She was trying so hard not to cry again. She didn’t want them to mock her as a crybaby. Keeping her head down as she brought the spoon to her lips again and again, she didn’t know what kind of expression they were wearing as she swallowed spoonful after spoonful. If she did, she would have caught the glare Minho pinned Yeonjun with (the latter looking away as if nothing had happened), Beomgyu’s stunned countenance, and Hyunjin’s incisive gaze. 

Y/n placed the spoon in the empty bowl and before either Minho or Yeonjun could say anything, she beat them to it. 

“She started having nightmares a few days before Juliana was killed.”

<<<Chapter 2 Chapter 4>>>

[lovesickeros]

im back for my monthly delusion and its alice this time BECAUSE WHY DOES NO ONE ELSE TALK ABOUT HER. OR RHINEDOTTIR. extremely powerful witches who are probably on equal power level to an archon just vibing and committing war crimes.

[wyrdle]

Ikutsuki Backstory ideas and other character thoughts

Jotting this down for my own reference for a hopeful future comic about this pun man as well as for anyone interested in the babygirl lmao. Also I can't believe so little exists to help flesh him out more

Persona 3 spoilers under the cut

Ok so I haven't finished the game, but I've sped run reading wikis and watching movies and clips, pardon me if I get any details wrong. I also don't know the other games, but am semi-aware of some of the links between Ikutsuki and them.

Anyway:

Ikutsuki rambling about The Fall and a Prince out of the blue is painfully one of the worst twists I've ever seen 😂 You don't lore drop your way into justifying your motives lmao. I'd have liked some hints about his past, and then a final explanation for it. Whilst I understand it's meant to be a sudden twist, it just turns out anti-climatic and even annoying narratively haha.

So, to fill out how Ikutsuki's backstory, I was thinking it'd be rad if we saw his actual research days with Kirijo's CEO / Mitsuru's gramps. I'd likely scrap that they were actively looking to invoke The Fall, and have them primarily focused on the time-bending abilities of Shadows, all being scientists dedicated to helping humanity genuinely.

I dislike the idea of such a large group of scientists being omnicidal maniacs/Nyx worshippers, so I think simplifying the Kirijo family's guilt to simply accidentally fucking up their experiments and causing such catastrophic change to the world to be a better go at it.

Enter Ikutsuki, who is a part of this research team like every other hopeful/morally decent scientist. The experiment goes awry, Shadows are released en masse, Professoer Shuji Ikutsuki is swathed, bathed, consumed by this writhing dark mass that tells him about The Fall and whispers about the Prince who will be grandly rewarded for it.

In his canon pre-suicide speech, Ikutsuki talks as if he believes the current world has lots of wrong in it, going to the extremes of wanting to cleanse and rebuild it. I think it'd be fitting for him to start off as this hopeful scientist, cheery and dorky, only for him to go through the trauma of direct exposure to Shadows + being the lone survivor amidst the wreckage and dead bodies of his colleagues.

It's a combo of real-life horror and supernatural Persona weirdness that motivates him into being the manipulator/cold scientist he is. Idk if my timeline of events is right, but post-Tartarus formation, ikutsuki kicks off figuring out plans for The Fall in earnest. Prompting his secret research on children for inducing Personas etc. (I think Strega and Ikutsuki weren't involved with each other, so for this I'd say yeah, he'd be the one responsible for that instead of Kirijo group in general.)

Other fun things for him is that surviving the sort of possession by Nyx's fragments during the formation of Tartarus gives him 'the Potential'. AKA he discovers he can exist in the darkest hour, and is eventually the one who researches himself to enable others to do so as well. It's just more reason for Kirijo group to not suspect him, and even owe him for his work.

I'm likely getting plenty of canon timeline of events off, but I think it'd be really cool for the Chairman himself to be similarly affected by the Kirijo group's experiment alongside the SEES members. Albeit, in a way that fucks him up into becoming the antagonist. Not to say he has no free will/is being actively coerced by Nyx, but that singular moment of interacting with the Shadows changed him and his outlook on life quite drastically.

Lastly, I'm pained that he doesn't really fit into the group. I think there's so much potential there for him to actually be a part of the SEES gang, holding some genuine affection that's a remnant of his pre-Shadow affected self, even going as far as having hesitation/second thoughts. Idk lol, canon Ikutsuki's death is waved off with little impact beyond how he killed Mitsuru's dad, when this guy the SEES team trusts/looks for direction kills himself in front of them. There's no emotional pay-off or pain, his death/twist reveal is just an event that happens lmao. I'd have liked to see Ikutsuki genuinely be an adult figure all the kids needed, and for them to feel the sting of his betrayal on a more personal level than what we got.

Anyway, TLDR, I feel like this helps make Ikutsuki a better villain lol. His fingers are in all the pies already!!! Use him!

So normal about this long haired, bespectacled, goofy middle aged man. He has such dad energy, and I love the angsty narrative of being corrupted lol

pls yell about him to me tq very much

[ever-winter]

@primowishes asked for a Short Starter

"Let's see…"

He was muttering away to himself as hands grasped hold of Collei's shoulders, tilting her forward with her hair over one shoulder, looking over the seal at the back of her neck. Such an annoying little thing that held so much power at bay, how much would she have changed by now if the power was allowed to have taken root. Would she have become some type of monster?

A finger rest against the seal, pressing hard against the back of her neck as a pulse of dendro power is sent racing down her spine, "Unfortunate, but no matter. It shouldn't be too difficult to break such a childish seal such as this one…and now that your no longer I'll, perhaps the power inside won't swallow you whole…hmm".

Letting go, he crossed the room, picking up a book and starting to flick through the pages, "…the one who was able to seal such an immense supply of raw energy…perhaps they too would make for a rather interesting specimen"

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 20: people don't change people, time does

Found Family

4390 Words; Pooter Pile AU

TW for child abuse, attempted murder, unethical experimentation, blood mention

AO3 ver

“Gisu!”

Gisu looked up at the sound of the door slamming open. Dion let his leg fall back to the floor, his arms securely wrapped around the book he was carrying. Gisu felt a trickle of amusement as Dion stalked over to her, slamming the book on the desk.

It had only been two days since Raz ran off. Dion had come to surprisingly quickly after being thrown like that—maybe it was an acrobat thing. But he had had the worst headache, so it was nice to see him moving with his usual energy, again.

It’d be even nicer if Raz hadn’t run off, but still.

“I know where Raz went!” Dion exclaimed. “Is trying to go. Whatever. But I know where it is!” He flipped the book open, revealing it to be a photo album. Gisu got only a moment to glance at what she assumed were Dion’s baby pictures before he flipped to the page he wanted. “There.” He pointed at the picture of the family all assembled before the Aquatodome—it must have been a few years old, because Gisu couldn’t see Queepie anywhere, but she could see a much younger Mirtala held aloft in Donatella’s arms.

“Cute photo.” Gisu commented, totally not focusing on the massive grin on younger-photo-Dion’s face. “What makes you think Raz is going there?”

Dion pointed at the photo—at the background of the photo, Gisu realized, his finger tapping the mountain dominating the landscape. “When Raz hit me with his… psychic thingy, I think…” He trailed off, searching for the words. “Psychic bullshit involves mind stuff, right? Like thoughts and feelings.”

“Yeah…” Gisu nodded.

“And I’ve been seeing the same fucking mountain since he hit me,” Dion continued, “Which means it’s probably, like, an afterthought of it.”

“After-effect,” Gisu corrected.

“Yeah, that.” Dion agreed. His hands moved as he spoke and paced around, and it was utterly fascinating, even as his words kept coming out stream-of-consciousness style. “So I keep seeing this mountain, and it’s so familiar, like an itch in the back of my mind, yanno? So I start digging through our old albums, because I swear I’ve seen this mountain somewhere before, and I know it’s important, so I kept searching and—”

“And then you found it?” Gisu asked, trying not to let too much fondness creep into her voice. A little bit is okay, but it’s too early to be getting sappy.

“Yeah!” Dion nodded emphatically, once again by the desk and tapping the photo. “It doesn’t look exactly the same but I know that that’s the one. That’s the mountain that Raz is going to.” He looked at Gisu with so much intensity that she thought he might burst, and said, “I keep feeling like I need to go there.”

Gisu leaned back in her chair. “Do you?”

“Yes!” Dion threw his hands in the air. “No? I don’t know!” He paced a small half-circle, “But that’s where Raz is. Is going. I’m sure of it!” He turned to Gisu once again. “I don’t know what to do about this.” He admitted. “I don’t know who I’m supposed to tell.”

“Well, I think—” Gisu stretched, getting out of her chair. “—that what happens next is obvious.”

“Really?’ Dion lit up. “I knew you’d know what to do! You’re really smart like that.” His face flushed, and Gisu had to take a moment to fight off the butterflies in her stomach and the heat on her own face.

“Yeah.” She smirked, grabbing Dion’s wrist. She started pulling him back towards the door.

“We’re going on a field trip!”

+=+=+=+=+

Three huffed as he leaped up over a boulder, his levball making the jump easier than climbing up by hand. Even still, this was exhausting.

But it needed to be done. He only had a little bit further to go, anyway—it had taken him a week just to get this far, and the sun had long set behind him, and he couldn’t waste anymore time.

Really, though, did Ms. Naumann have to build her lab halfway up a mountain? Three had his levball to help, but this was ridiculous.

Still, there was nothing Three could do. He just had to get there, and make everything right. So he’d do it, even if it was tiring.

He had to.

+=+=+=+=+

“I think we made pretty good time!’ Gisu chirped. And really, they kind of did. Five days to make a trip spanning across a few states—thank god for comprehensive bus routes. And her levboard. Couldn’t forget how important her baby was to this whole operation.

“I’m still not sure how you convinced me to go along with this.” Dion muttered, staring up at the mountain looming before them, the sunlight behind him casting his face in shadow. “Or why we’re doing this alone.”

“Because it’s faster that way.” Gisu offered, already setting up her board. Sure, they could have a nice little hike up the trails, but they were here on a mission. Raz had a two-day headstart—they couldn’t waste time. “C’mon.” She held out her hand, and Dion took it. Grumbling under his breath but joining her on the levboard regardless. “Let’s go find Pooter.”

+=+=+=+=+

Three crawled through the vents as quietly as he could. Benefit of the lab being half-underground, he supposed—the vents themselves were surrounded by solid rock, making them more than capable of supporting his weight.

So he crawled along, his mental link with Four helping him navigate to the bunks without issue. It took a while, and he had to wiggle a bit to get through some of the tighter turns, but he made it.

The room the clones all slept in was halfway into a natural cavern, of sorts, with a large open space above the beams holding up the lights. Three telekinetically undid the screws on the vent cover, and quietly removed the panel, holding it in the air to keep it from clattering on the ground. He crawled out onto the bunk bed directly below it, the top cot softening the impact. Once he was clear, he replaced the vent cover, but set the screws to the side—this would be his exit.

“Three?” Four’s voice cut through the room—the lights were off, right now, but Three could already feel his brother’s mental presence beginning to surge.

“Four!” Three practically lunged for his brother, his arms wrapping around Four’s shoulders with all the strength he had. I missed you I’m so happy to see you again I missed you I missed you I missed you

“Three!” Four returned the hug, pulses of missed-you and ribbons of golden elation flowing through their connection. I missed you I’m so glad you’re safe I missed you I missed you I missed you

Eventually, Three pulled back. His face crumpled, his eyes stung, and he slammed his face back into the crook of his brother’s neck. “I missed you.” He murmured, his thoughts echoing the notion.

“I missed you too.” Four returned, echoing back the same. He pulled back. “You gotta be quick,” he started. “Ms. Naumann’s been acting really weird lately.”

Three took a breath. Right. No more tears—mission now, sad later. “Weird how?”

Four winced. “Like she’s scared of something.” He mumbled. “I think…” He tried again, “She told me to call you back in a few days. I think… I think she’s going to terminate us.”

Three’s blood ran cold. The world pressed in on him, crushing weight squeezing all the air from his lungs—

Three scowled. “That’s not going to happen.” He declared. “We’re going to get Six and Raz and we’re going to get out of here.” He was done being scared of Ms. Naumann. She was wrong. She was wrong and Three felt none of the respect he’d had for her. She was wrong.

Four nodded. “It’s this way—” he started—

Something fell from the beams above to the floor beside them with a thud and a grunt, making Three and Four flinch back in surprise. The figure uncurled, groaning as it stood—

“Wh—how did you get here?” Three whisper-shouted. “Why are you here?!” Of all the—for the sake of—really? Of all the people who could have somehow followed him, it was Dion?

“Raz.” Dion started, “You have ten seconds to explain—” He stopped short, his eyes darting between Three and Four.

“Why are there two of you?” Dion’s voice went up a few notches, grating against Three’s ears. He was looking back and forth between the two of them, confusion leaching off of him in waves.

Three put his hands up in a placating gesture. “Look, Dion, I promise I’ll explain everything later.” He said, trying to ignore the way Four was starting to vibrate next to him. “When we have time.” He promised. “But I need you to not mess everything up right now—”

“Uh uh.” Dion interrupted, hands on his hips. “No way. I’m not doing anything until you explain yourself.”

“We don’t have time—” Three insisted, gritting his teeth. Why couldn’t he have been followed by someone with sense, like Frazie? Frazie was cool.

“I’m not hearing an explanation.” Dion hissed. “So I’ll ask again: What the fuck is going on here?!” he demanded—

“I find myself wondering the exact same thing.”

Three froze. Dion’s eyes were wide as he stared at the doorway behind Three. Oh no. Oh no.

Three turned around slowly, like the air around him was suddenly full of glue. Oh no no no.

None other than Ms. Naumann stood there, her lips pressed into a thin line. All of Three’s resolve dissolved under her gaze, like a wadded up napkin being tossed into the trash. Oh no.

“And who are you?” Ms. Naumann turned her attention to Dion, who looked as much like a deer in headlights as Three and Four felt.

“...very confused.” Dion admitted.

Ms. Naumann raised a hand to the bridge of her nose. “Right.” She sighed. Her hand moved to her temple, her look of resignation turning to one of concentration.

Three yelped in surprise as an arm wrapped around him, lifting into the air in a single burst of motion. Ms. Naumann shot a psi-blast, and Dion ducked under it to slide out the open door behind her, not once losing momentum even as he leapt up into a run, Three and Four tucked against his sides.

“Which way do I go?” Dion demanded, as Ms. Naumann’s footsteps echoed behind them.

“Left!” Four shouted, even as Three’s head spun trying to remember the layout. Dion skidded to a near-halt at the next intersection, deftly using his shed momentum to pivot into a turn to the left. “I still want an explanation!” He nearly screeched, following Four’s directions to duck to the right.

“Later!” Three reminded him. He squirmed in Dion’s arm until he was facing backwards, watching as Ms. Naumann came up behind them. “She’s gaining!” He shouted, and Dion picked up the pace.

“Do something then!” Dion made another turn, his grip on Three and Four tightening to keep them from slipping free.

Right! Three concentrated, lining up his shot—

Ms. Naumann’s eyes widened in surprise as Three fired. She ducked to the side, and the shot only grazed her—but she ended up stopping entirely, so Three still allowed himself a moment of silent victory. He was useful! Another shot brought down a light fixture, blocking her path. Even more useful!

Dion slid to a halt, the sudden stop jarring to Three. He squirmed, trying to see what had brought them to a halt—

“How do I open this?” Dion demanded, and Three managed to turn around entirely. They were blocked by a door—the playroom door, it looked like.

“Get me to that keypad.” Four said, and Dion moved to hold him up in front of it. Four tapped in the code—

Four hissed and pulled back his hand. “Dammit.” He muttered. “She changed it again.”

“Language.” Dion snapped. Three stuck out his tongue. Who was Dion to decide if his brother could swear? “Hurry up,” Dion added. “I don’t like how quiet it is right now.”

“I’m trying.” Four shot back, trying another code. Another angry beep as the pad flashed red. “Ugh, she changes them way too often.” He grumbled, moving to try another one.

Probably because someone’s just a little too clever. Three suggested, trying to squirm out of Dion’s grip. Four ignored his comment in favor of focusing on the keypad.

“Uh uh.” Dion adjusted his hold on Three. “You’re not going anywhere until we’re out of this mess.”

Three crossed him arms. He really wished it was Frazie who had followed him. How did Dion even find him?

“How did you even find me? You were out on the floor when I left.” Three poked Dion’s side.

“You’re the one who practically showed me where you were going.” Dion muttered, like it was somehow Three’s fault that he’d shown up to mess everything up.

Which… maybe it was, now that Three thought about it. He hadn’t even touched Dion when he’d sent him flying—if it was a burst of unfocused psychic power, then it probably ended up pushing Three’s thoughts into Dion’s head. Whoops.

Four hissed at another failed attempt. Dion tapped his foot against the floor impatiently. Footsteps echoed down the hall. Three gasped. “Ms. Naumann!”

“Okay, time to go!” Dion decided, pulling away from the door.

“Wh—no!” Four shouted. “Six is in there!”

“We’re not leaving him behind!” Three added, “Him or Raz!”

Dion froze. “What—”

The world tilted, and Three fell to the floor. He had only a moment to catch his breath before a telekinetic grasp grabbed ahold of him, too, lifting him up into the air to join a struggling Dion and Four.

“That’s enough of that.” Ms. Naumann declared, already turning on her heel. The hands followed after her, dragging the three of them along through the air.

“Well.” Four muttered, “shit.”

+=+=+=+=+

Well, shit. Gisu scooted further into the shadows. She and Dion had only found Raz—though apparently he was going by Three?—by chance, and then Dion had fallen down into the room the moment he spotted his brother. Who was greeting a second Raz.

And now this lady had showed up, and Dion had grabbed both Razzes and ran. Gisu had no idea how far he’d get, but she didn’t want to get caught, either.

Something that the Not-Razzes had mentioned caught in her mind, and she regarded the door carefully. Six and Raz? Did that mean that there were more Pooters here?

Well, it was as good a lead as any. Gisu levitated down to the floor, and poked her head out the still-open door.

The hallway was empty. Probably.

Carefully, Gisu crept out, holding her board tight against her side. If she concentrated, she could faintly feel Dion’s mind a ways away, frustration ebbing in and out of his mental signal. She wasn’t good enough with telepathy to hold a full conversation with him, though—she was too used to the person on the other end being psychic. Adam could probably hold a connection with seven people all on his own, and Morris was also pretty good at long-range communication—

But Adam and Morris weren’t here. Just Gisu and Dion.

Gisu huffed, casting her mind out further. She didn’t want to alert the scientist lady to her presence, but there had to be something she could use—

Aha! Her mind caught on something. On another mind—

…which reached back. Who are you? They demanded, their presence like waves crashing against Gisu’s mind.

Trying to help. Gisu responded, raising a hand to her temple to track down the other mind.

Like you could help me, the voice scoffed. Okay, rude. You just want Raz, anyway.

Yeah, that was what Gisu was confused about. Why are there so many of you?

The other end was quiet, for a moment, then—there used to be one more. But he’s gone now. A deep sense of melancholy washed over Gisu like waves washing over the sand. For a moment, she almost felt like sand, slowly being pulled into the depths of the anguish bit by bit.

Gisu shook her head to snap herself out of it. I’m sorry. She responded, that sucks.

Tell me something I don’t know. The other mind snarked. But really, why are you here?

Gisu concentrated on everything that had happened in the past several days. The birthday, the breakdown, Not-Raz running off, her and Dion’s chase to reach the mountain before him… as far as explanations went, it was probably really cluttered, a mix of feelings and memories and desires all packaged up into a bundle, with a lot of the needed context missing. But it was what Gisu had to work with.

… The other end was silent for a moment. Then—

A schematic—no, a layout appeared in Gisu’s mind, with a path highlighted in bright blue. Go here, it seemed to say, without saying anything at all.

Gisu followed the path, keeping an eye out for any wandering scientists. How she managed to get around without getting caught, she had no idea—

But she was doing it, which was good. She could worry about the potential implications of being able to seemingly run rampant later.

She came up on a metal door with a keypad to the side. It was flashing, the tiny screen above it saying something about failed attempts. But Gisu only grinned and pulled out her mini-screwdrivers—time to get to work. Pry off the cover, then the pad itself to get at the wires… snip those two wires and join them together…

The door slid open a few moments later. “Ha!” Gisu put away her tools, “Am I good, or am I good?” That was easy. Almost too easy, but Gisu was too busy riding the high of her success to care.

The room she stepped into was larger than the first one, with a small swingset installed at the other end. Mats covered the floor, there was a balance beam—

And there, sitting next to a slide and curled up under the steps, were two more Razzes, regarding Gisu with mild suspicion.

“Okay, which one of you is Pooter?” Gisu twirled her board in her hands, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

The Raz under the slide pointed at himself. “I’m the original.” He said, his voice scratchy and tired-sounding.

“Six.” The other said, leaning against the red plastic.

“Right.” Gisu nodded. She had no idea what that meant—she could guess, though—but that wasn’t important. What was important was getting Dion and the other two and getting out of here. She slapped her palms together. “Time for us to blow this joint!” She declared.

“You mean it?” Raz asked, staring at Gisu with wide eyes. “We’re getting out of here?”

Gisu nodded. “Yeah!” She frowned. “Well, not without Dion,” She amended, “Or the other two.”

Raz blinked. “Dion’s here?” He stood up. “He’s not—he’s not still mad at me for running away, right? I can kind of see what the other mes see, but…” He trailed off, staring at the floor.

“He asked me to help troubleshoot his apology.” Gisu said flatly. “And I’m still missing a lot of the context here, by the way.”

“Oh.” Raz’ mouth worked, for a moment, as he looked for the words. “I ran away,” he started, “And I made it to Whispering Rock…” He contemplated, for a moment, before skipping ahead, “The other me and me swapped places at the Rhombus of Ruin.” He said.

“Oh.” Gisu clutched her board a little tighter. That was—oh. Suddenly, the exhaustion smeared under his eyes looked even more sad and pathetic, like a wet kitten alone in a box after all of the other kittens had been taken. Oh, this poor kid.

These poor kids, Gisu realized, looking at Six. She had heard Not-Raz respond to Three, and he’d called the other Four…

She had never heard anything about a One, Two, or Five.

“Well, this is your lucky day,” she decided, “Because you’re getting out of here. All of you.” Raz perked up at her statement. Good.

“It’s too late.” Six stated. “Three and Four got caught. They’re probably already on their way to being terminated.” He scoffed. “I’ll probably be next.”

Gisu swallowed. That… didn’t sound good. “We’ve still got to do something,” She urged.

Raz nodded, turning to Six. “Don’t you want to see the ocean?” He asked, “Because this might be your one chance.”

Six stared at Raz for a long moment. He scowled. “That’s not fair.” He muttered, standing up to join Gisu and Raz. “You can’t just use my weakness against me.” Still, he was no longer sitting next to the slide, so Gisu counted that as a win.

“C’mon,” She urged. “Let’s go kick that lady’s—”

“Ms. Naumann.” Six interjected.

“Okay.” Gisu started again. “Let’s go kick Ms. Naumann’s butt!”

+=+=+=+=+

Three had never been in this room before. There was a large glass tube—that Three and Four were immediately dumped into—and a control panel that took up most of the space, making the whole place feel cramped. Dion was set down in the only open space on the floor, hands cuffed behind him, and the door wasn’t able to slide shut with him sitting so close to it. He wasn’t conscious—Ms. Naumann had used a burst of mental pressure to knock him out when she drew blood. Three looked away from the bandage in the crook of his arm.

Three had never been in this room before. He could guess at what it was, though. His hands pressed against the glass while his heart threatened to pound right out of his chest—

Twin screams lighting up the shared headspace, hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt HURT—

“Please.” Three tried. Four leaned against him, his weight and his mind a steadying presence, but he may as well have been trying to steady a wobbling tower of cards on a rocking boat in the middle of a storm.

Okay, so that metaphor was wordy. Three was allowed to be wordy, he felt, when there was death looming over him.

“I can see this project isn’t working out.” Ms. Naumann muttered. “Perhaps I’ll have to put it on pause… or maybe taking up a second project will give me some much-needed variety.” She regarded Three and Four for a long moment, her cool gaze betraying not even a hint of the anger that Three could feel leaching off of her.

“You did well.” She said, reaching for the panel. “But I see you’ve been let loose for too long.” Her words sounded too practiced to be sincere, even though she would have only had to say anything. “I will make this as painless as possi—”

“Hey.”

As one, Three, Four, and Ms. Naumann turned their attention to the open doorway, where Dion was still unconscious to the side. Standing next to him was none other than Six, regarding Ms. Naumann with a blank expression.

Ms. Naumann returned to the control panel. “Return to the playroom, Subject Six.” She ordered. “This isn’t a place for clones.”

“No.” Six said, staring her down.

Ms. Naumann paused, turning to look at Six directly. “No?”

“No.” Six repeated, raising his hands.

Ms. Naumann’s voice cut off with a gasp as she fell to the floor, her whole body trembling. Six’ brow furrowed as he stepped forwards, his hands outstretched. “You’re an awful mother.” He declared. “And we don’t like you!” He swept his arms to the side, and Ms. Naumann slammed against the wall with a wheeze. Six’ arms dropped. Ms. Naumann fell to the floor.

“Dion!” And then Raz was in the room, standing next to Dion and fussing—

“Let’s get you out of there.” And there was Gisu, since when was Gisu here, staring at the control panel for a moment before slamming her fist down on one of the buttons.

Three flinched—

The tube opened up. Oh. Oh, thank god.

Three and Four wasted no time in making their way out of there, standing next to Gisu. The room was getting really crowded, now, there was barely any room for anyone to move around—

“You.” Ms. Naumann was already pushing herself up. “You insolen—”

A pair of shiny metal handcuffs thwacked off of her head, clattering to the floor. Three turned back to see Dion standing, muttering curses under his breath as he rubbed at the base of his thumb. “And stay down.” He added.

Ms. Naumann did not stay down. She hissed, and before Gisu or Six could do anything to stop her, she spoke. “Initiate System Shutdown, voice code 4-18-4-25-4.”

Alarms started blaring. Ms. Naumann disappeared with a pop, leaving them all crowded in that tiny room.

“Time to get out of here!” Gisu declared. Raz launched himself at Dion, who scooped up Four and Three in his arms once again. Gisu threw down her board, grabbed Six, and hopped on—Dion hopped on next. “Which way?”

“Down that hall, then take a right!” Four instructed, as Gisu’s levboard rocketed off down the halls. “Now left!” Three had to grab Dion’s vest to avoid falling off as Gisu turned—this was so much worse than when Dion had been running. But with the countdown blaring over their heads, Three didn’t have it in himself to say anything.

“And out that door!” Four pointed. But the door was closed!

Gisu raised her hand and pointed with two fingers. Lightning blasted out down the hall, hitting the door just moments before her levboard got there—

Her board flew out into open air, leaving the smoke from the blasted door behind them. The hidden lab rumbled, the whole mountain seeming to shake—

The whole world spun, Three tumbling right out of Dion’s grip as the board was flung forwards. He tumbled through the air and into the undergrowth, rolling across the ground before coming to a stop.

The sky was a brilliant shade of orange above him. Morning already?

Fuck, he was exhausted. The world was still spinning, a bit, and he could hear everyone shouting or groaning as they picked themselves up. Four was okay, though, and Raz was out—that was all that mattered.

With a tired groan, Three let his eyes slip closed.

[shadowofthelamp]

twix should be allowed to commit more war crimes. as a treat

There are so many bountiful choices too!

[abyssmalice]

(sitting on the bus thinking on lab rat tonitoni era aka "tonia's no good no fun two years in the dottore bouncy castle of doom called his laboratories"

idk just thinking abt her during that time....... it was really not a good time for her, especially as an object (yes object, she wasn't really considered human despite it all) of fascination and study, undergoing all sorts of tests and basically seeing the bottom levels of humanity without ethics lol

I think it'd be fun if I could write more about it but djdnnddndnnd ain't no one is going to have an easy time digging for that sorta info from her)

[vitos-ordination-song]

It’s unspeakably real that the final arc of this story hinges on humans trying to maintain child farms so they can keep being in power

[cainsau]

Can you do (Platonic) Homelander X reader. Like in S4E4, you were the only scientist that actually treated homelander as a actual human child and not a experiment, but then were fire for interfering with an experiment. And years later when he grows up and invite everyone back to the lab including the reader

Consequence || The Boys Imagine

(Platonic) Homelander x Scientist!GN!Reader

Summary: You are one of the scientists who worked on Homelander many years ago. One day he brings you back to the lab, for old times' sake, he says.

Warning: Canon typical violence and gore (not explicit)

Author's Note: Im so sorry but i dont fully understand your request! I hope this is close enough to what you're asking for :]

Masterlist

You recall the elevator ride from many years ago. It didn't use to be this long. Or maybe that's because you just witnessed Homelander shooting lasers at the security guards upstairs, all that to let you and him into the old lab. He probably can hear your heart beating abnormally fast.

"Do you think everyone will be there?" He asks.

You take a long breath, "Maybe not. Some of them probably don't work for the company anymore."

There is a moment of silence before he asks again, "Do you miss them?"

You think about it for a minute. His question feels like a test somehow. But, you've always been honest with him, and you're not going to stop now. "Not really, since they fired me."

"Right."

Homelander is a ticking time bomb. Since the beginning, you knew he was going to grow up with so much negativity from all that experimentation, and eventually explode. The least you could do was be kind to him, considering he was a literal child. Even now, you still feel a little bit of sympathy for him. But, it probably doesn't matter since he might have just brought you there to end your life along with the other scientists'. After all, there's no denying that you did work in that lab.

You sigh quietly. You didn't even get to say goodbye to your family when he picked you up at your current workplace.

The elevator dings, and the door opens, revealing the very same lab that you remember working in. The old faces try so hard to look delighted, but you can tell that they're as horrified as you.

"John?" Marty exclaimed in surprise.

"Homelander." The supe corrects him with an unending smile. "Just, Homelander." He then glances at you, putting an arm on your shoulder. "But [Y/N] is here too, y'know? You should greet them too."

You and Marty exchange a look. It's been years since the last time you talked to him. Though he's glad to see you after all these years, it is far outweighed by the horror of Homelander's presence.

Marty gives you a nod, "[Y/N]."

You return the nod, "Good to see you again, Marty."

"Well, well, well," Homelander steps forward with the box of cake while looking around, "I see that this place hasn't changed much."

He starts to talk and talk about his days in the lab. To the others, it might be an enlightening experience as he exposes their faults and... avenge it. Even if they didn't believe in god, they start praying inside their heads. Frank is the first to go, then Marty second. Thankfully, Barbara shows up before a third victim comes. But, oh, how wrong you are.

You stand there, breathing heavily, as Homelander closes the door to the Red Room. There's blood everywhere on his suit and hair, then as he turns around, his face is also covered in blood. But, the most terrifying part? His smile.

You hide your trembling hands behind your back. As much as you dislike how the other scientists treated him, you'd never think they'd end up like this.

"You alright?" You attempt to be nice to him, even if it's the last thing you do.

He laughs and approaches you slowly, "There should be more people like you in this world."

"You're one of a kind." He continues. "Most people are inconsistent. They're very prone to change, depending on where they are in the wheel of life- up or down- but, you? You're the same all around, then and now. That's great!"

He pats you on the back, leaving red stains on it, and guides you out. Apparently, he respects you enough to let you live, and not lock you in that room of corpses with Barbara.

As you arrive home safe and intact (physically, at least), you sigh in relief, feeling indebted to your alma mater for forcing you to take a class in ethics.

[meggahamicide]

Okay, i've decided that i'm just gonna drop/dump some lore on Vermin, so if you're interested, read below! It's really long!

...o.0.O.0.o...

Personality:

Like canon-Leo's head-cannons, Vermin hides his true emotions behind a smile, but their differences are in the execution. Vermin's smiles are more wicked, more cruel, and he find amusement in making people fear him, having experience in getting people to listen to him by intimidating them.

He pretends to be indifferent to how the brothers act around him, but always keeps an eye out for any signs that they aren't as they say they are. Donnie specifically.

Big emotions are a no-no, so he hides them behind a passive face, empty of anything he's feeling so he can convince those he's talking with that he feels nothing, that he is unaffected by any stressors and anxiety. If anything get's too overwhelming, he retreats to a hidden corner to wait it out and tries not to remember how Draxum treated him when he let his emotions get the better of him.

Because he was raise without certain privileges, he gets extremely giddy around new experiences, such as sampling new foods and trying out video games and skateboarding. It's probably the only time he lets his guard down because he's so entranced by whatever is happening he forgets that he's not supposed to be showing emotion.

...o.0.O.0.o...

Relationships:

Raphael:

With Raph, Vermin just doesn't know how to deal with him. An injury brings Vermin to the lair and Raph is the one who heals him, but Vermin in uncertain whether or not he can trust someone with such obvious strength he can easily use to harm Vermin. He doesn't understand why Raph is so kind nervous when he could dominate his enemies.

Michelangelo:

Mikey is the one Vermin accepts the easiest other than April. Mikey has a way to handle Vermin without being too invasive and without threatening the slider in any way shape or form and eventually shows Vermin that there is kindness that is not expected to be repaid. He also helps Vermin lean into his chaotic mindset without it becoming harmful to others, like teaching him how to prank the other brothers.

And of course, Vermin loves trying his food, so Mikey basically tempts the slider like he might a feral cat.

Donatello:

Donnie is the one Vermin has the hardest time accepting. He's convinced he can easily beat the soft-shell in a fight, but once he discovers that Donnie is a scientist, he becomes wary of him, skittish and uncomfortable whenever he's around. He knows that there are other ways to get someone to obey than simply fighting.

It takes Donnie being patient and showing him that he means no harm over time that earns his trust. The softshell just has to break through the notion that all scientist are evil and only seek to destroy that which is closest to them. Donnie even goes as far as to promise to never let anything happen to Vermin ever again.

April O'Neil:

The first one to show kindness when Vermin leaves Draxum's lab. She shows the slider a side of society that he was being deprived of when he was with Draxum, helping him see that there is a place for everyone, that things don't need to hurt to be beneficial. She pretty much forcefully adopts him as her little brother and is even protective of him when he interacts with her other brothers.

Baron Draxum:

Was raised by Draxum. More info in the timeline.

...o.0.O.0.o...

Timeline:

Content Warnings: blood and injury, references to child abuse, loss of limb, needles, non-consensual drug use (kind of), non-consensual experimentation and surgery.

It gets dark, so be cautious of the warnings!

Age 0-4:

In the beginning, Lou Jitsu, later known as Splinter, only rescues three of the turtles, who eventually go by the name Donatello, Raphael, and Michelangelo. The remaining turtle, identified by his red markings, is picked up by Baron Draxum before the lab explodes, destroying his life work. The only remaining bit of his research is the tiny creature small enough in the palm of his hand.

Quick to find a place to stay and recover, the Baron begins working to piece together his research using his subject. He starts a book, scribbling down anything worth noting and refraining from any larger tests besides bloodwork and skin-scraping until the subject is larger, better able to withstand any more intrusive tests.

He begins raising the creature, claiming it as his own.

Age 5-8:

Called by the title Red, the slider reaches acceptable cognizance to begin training by the age of five. He is small, just below the Baron's knee, but he is intelligent enough to understand complex problem solving and language. Weapons training is less successful than desired, but that could be related to the subject's weaker limbs and child-like nature.

Baron Draxum is relentless in his education, always prepared to deliver swift punishment should Red be unable to comply with his desires. Red hates the punishment, often times covered in bruises from the extra training or with a headache from spending his nights in 'The Room,' but he is just as stubborn as his guardian, if not more so. He always seeks to make his boss proud, ignoring the voice that always tells him he's not strong enough, not good enough. Baron Draxum always has a reason for saying things like that, so Red knows he just has to try harder.

He's not exactly sure what a human is, but the Baron is convinced that he needs to kill them all.

Every other week, the Baron brings Red to another room where he 'collects samples.' Red doesn't know what they're for, but he's seen the elder gather some of his freshly peeled chutes and teeth when they fall off, always writing in that journal with a little turtle drawn on the front.

One night, when he's just turned eight, Baron Draxum leaves in a hurry. He's gone for hours, leaving Red to his own devices and wondering if maybe the yokai had finally got bored of him, wondering if he just left him behind because he couldn't satisfy him. Red tries not to listen to the little voice in his head that says maybe that's a good thing, maybe it's better if he stays gone.

Red doesn't see him until the next day, well into the night, and suddenly, he regrets ever thinking those nasty things of his guardian. The yokai is hunched by the door, missing an arm and looking very tired. Red runs to him, but the Baron doesn't even acknowledge him, holding a towel to his stump.

Red is crying. He knows he shouldn't, knows that tears mean weakness, but he's afraid for his boss, afraid of what is happening, because that's a lot of blood. He feels something well up in his chest as he sits next to his guardian, the feeling swelling into his lungs and arms, weaving through his bones and into his fingers, bright, blue light zapping over his fingers. Something guides his hand, pressing them against the yokai's injury and forcing the light into him.

He heals Baron Draxum.

Baron Draxum looks at him like he's solved the world's problems.

Age 9-10:

Test after test after test. Red is sure he's never been through so many tests, but he finally sees the Baron's pride and he wants to impress him, so he doesn't complain when the needle digs too far, or when the scalpel scrapes a little to much skin. This new power is good, that's all he knows. Baron Draxum calls it mystic energy, says that it was a power he was seeking all along, so Red doesn't complain when all of the test make him tired enough to pass out, or make him cry himself to sleep because his chest aches from how long he had to work. Baron Draxum is proud, proud enough to give him a portal sword and teach him how to use it, proud enough to hand him a pair of tonfa and guide him through the motions of building a shield, proud enough to smile when Red uses the kusari-fundo for the first time.

Red trains his new skill until he's sick, until he can't stand, until he can't feel the first time Baron Draxum uses that strange, green liquid on him.

Baron Draxum was proud.

Age 11-13:

Red is pretty sure his name isn't Red any more. It's Vermin. At least, that's what the Baron has started to call him.

Ever since he stopped being able to use mystic energy without fainting, Baron Draxum has stopped using that old name. Now he was a pest, a creature incapable of healing, or portaling, or simply making things float. He is weak.

Baron did something while he was sedated; took apart his plastron and looked around inside. Vermin thinks he was looking for what was so wrong with him, why everything the slider does ends up in failure. He now has a shiny new plate of metal on his chest and a paranoia of falling asleep.

He lost count the amount of times he was put to sleep, but every time he woke to something different, and injection of mutagen transforming his body while he was so out of it he couldn't even open his eyes. His toes and fingers become more flexible, grow sharp talons attributed to some sort of owl. His tongue becomes forked, able to scent things by merely breathing. His hearing and eyesight become sharper, a fox's DNA granting him night vision. He becomes stronger, faster, more agile, but it's never enough.

Vermin's starting to think that it never was going to be enough.

Vermin is awake when Baran Draxum puts in the ports, ignoring how painful it is and preferring to strap Vermin to a table while he digs into the slider's neck and arms, leaving six, shiny new devices embedded in his skin. The Baron has Vermin carry around a canister of green liquid on his back, a 'empyrean variant' he said, and with a click of a button, the canister sprouts tubes that dig into his ports, releasing the substance into his bloodstream. It hurts, floods his system with fire, but Vermin was used to pain. Now he just has a few more scars to show for it.

The substance grants him more power, more strength, more speed. His senses, already sharp, become that much more, overwhelming his sensory intake, but he learns how to fight past the side-effects. Missions outside of the lab become easier, training obstacles the Baron create become simple to dispatch, he always hurts but there is no other option.

It's always been the Baron and him, but maybe... maybe it doesn't have to be.

He's tired of hurting, tired to running himself to the ground, tired of covert missions that paint Baron Draxum as the ultimate threat when he's doing all the work, tired to sneaking around New York City in a futile attempt of gathering information that will likely never be useful. He tired of being compared to the experiments that didn't live through the first test, he tired of living up to a trio of dead beings that weren't even strong enough to compete with him. He tired to the punishments, of the bruises, of the empty room, of the nightmares, of the expectations.

He's just tired.

On the morning of his fourteenth year, Vermin comes to the conclusion that Baron Draxum isn't the be-all-end-all, that his ideals do not have to be his own. It fills him with a giddiness that leaves him trembling, his heart pounding.

In the middle of his fourteenth year, Vermin leaves.

Age 14:

The first person Vermin officially meets a human named April O'Neil.

Age 16:

...Vermin is starting to think his name was meant to be Leonardo all along.

[flamingpudding]

Fictober23 Prompt: 10 - "It's alright, I'm here now."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: Slight mention / implications of experimentation

A/N: I might have gotten a bit carried away with this... I also might take a little inspirational break tomorrow.

Damian should have known better, he knew his mother and he knew his grandfather. He should have known, especially after having met Respawn. Could his mothers behavior maybe clued him in sooner? But nothing had seemed any different lately, maybe that was what should have tipped him off. Yet if it hadn't been for Drake's paranoia, after another incident with his grandfather, Damian knew he probably wouldn't have found out anytime soon, either.

He ran through the halls of the League of Assassins facilities, knowing this place probably better than his siblings that were keeping his grandfather's men busy. He could hear them over the coms, he could also hear his father confronting his mother. They were in a different location to cover more ground. Richard and Todd were with him in this location while Drake and Cain had gone with their father. Brown and Thomas were back in Gotham awaiting hopefully good news.

Damian rounded a corner, dodging another of his grandfather's men. He did not wait or turn to pin the man down. Trusting his siblings to take care of this, and a second later, gunshots echoed behind him.

There were various options of where the child, his newly created younger brother, could be. But considering how his grandfather had changed, Damian took another turn leading to the underground area. As much as there was a likelihood that the child was created to replace him, he was sure that grandfather was raising the boy differently also, as he was now considered a failure since he had left.

When he reached the underground area he slowed down, blade drawn and surveying the area. It was surprisingly empty, something Damian did not trust. Carefully he walked along the hall until the distant sound of sniveling made him pause.

"I think I found him." Damian relayed through the coms.

"Gotcha we will catch up with you brat." Todd answered and Richard agreed a second later, spouting some 'mushy' nonsense in addition.

"We will finish up here then and prepare for the pick up!" Drake on the other hand informed, despite the fact that Damian could still hear their fathers end of what appeared to be a heavy argument with his mother through the coms.

Carefully he made his way over to a heavy looking metal door. Locked. Damian clicked his tongue. It took a bit of lockpicking but soon enough he heard the soft click of the lock and he slowly pushed the door open.

"Of course grandfather would have an underground lab." He eyed the room and the equipment stored in it. Different machines with different functions were lined all along the walls. He could see villes, tubes, containers and pinchers of Lazarus Water. But what really caught his eye was the huge tank in the back of the room. The tank was nearly empty except for a four inch high puddle of Lazarus Water and a barely clothed, blue eyed child sitting in it.

The child was indeed the source of the sniffling Damian had heard early as he now saw the boy looking at him wide eyed and rubbing at his eyes furiously like he did not want to be seen crying.

"W-who are you?" The child asked, voice cracking from obvious disuse. How bad were they treating this boy? "You look weird."

Damian knew his eyes were softening just a tiny bit at the child's question. They hadn't trained out the child's natural honesty yet. There was still a chance for this boy to grow up with more normalcy than he ever did.

"You can call me Robin." He answered the child as he stepped closer, noting how tiny the boy appeared to be, unintentionally clicking his tongue. Something must have been wrong with the documents Drake found. The papers spoke of a boy at the age of six. But this boy was tiny, clearly younger than that. Or perhaps they hadn't had the chance for the forced aging process?

"Are you a fruitloop?" The boy inched to the back of the tank away from Damian and he barely refrained from clicking his tongue at that motion.

"I am human, not a type of cereal." Damian shot back at the kid inspecting the tank and how to best open it to get the child out.

"Well duh. But you could still be a fruitloop." Richard would have a great time talking to this child, Damian briefly thought as he knocked against the glass of the tank, trying to judge from what kind of glass it was made and if a Batarang was enough to break it.

The child watched him, there were still some tears in the corner of the boy's eyes but there was also curiosity. "You really are getting me out of here?"

Damian absentmindedly nodded as he reached back with the batarang in hand. "Keep were you are, I am going to bre-"

"No, it's fine!" The child suddenly hopped up, splashing the puddle of Lazarus water against the glass as he clumsily stumbled forward, pressing his hands against the glass from the inside. Damian stopped mid movement, watching how the child's tongue stuck out in concentration as the boy continued to press his body against the glass.

For a moment, Damian was wondering what the child was doing until the boy's hand suddenly went through the glass, falling forward. Damian hurried to catch the boy as he literally fell through the glass.

"What did you do?" He asked once he had the boy, his new baby brother, securely in his arms. The boy giggled, swinging his legs a little in the air.

"I got powers!" It didn't make sense to Damian, neither his mother nor father had a meta gene but there was the possibility of his grandfather mixing in other DNA or possibly, he looked around the lab, no he didn't want to imagine this.

"I see." Was his only answer to the boy for now, he turned to his com. He balanced the boy in his arm while placing a couple of devices in the room in preparation. "The child is safely retrieved. Prepare for pick up."

The boy's eyes widened as Damian made his way out of the underground part. Richard and Todd were waiting at the entrance of the stairs for him. The weight of the boy in his arms and the feeling of his small hands clinging to his uniform, it slowly caused the realization that Damian indeed had a blood related little brother now. Not a clone, but a little brother. Sure he had been created through an artificial womb but the boy was not a clone.

"ETA 5 Sending the pick up location." Drake spoke over the coms.

He was close to the stairs when he noticed the boy pressing his face into his shoulder, shaking slightly. It caused Damian to slow down and inspect the child. Did he overlook an injury?

"You… are you really taking me out of here? It's not a trick from the fruitloop to make me trust him? You are taking me away?"

The words made Damian stop right by the foot of the stairs. Richard and Tood were right at the top, waiting for him. He could go up and let Richard carry the child and do the comforting. His brother was better at this than he was. But for some reason, Damian didn't want to do that. He sent one look up the stairs before putting his focus on the child.

"Do not worry." Carefully, while still holding the boy securely Damian made the boy look at him, wiping the beginning of tears away from watery blue eyes. Whatever his grandfather had done to this child, Damian as well as the rest of his family will not let it happen any longer, especially now that they know of his existence. "It's alright, I am here now."

Saying this sounded very 'cheesy', as his oldest brother would put it, in his ears but the small hopeful shine in the boy's eyes was worth it. "As long as I am here, grandfather will no longer lay a hand on you, nor put you through anything you do not want. I am sure father and the rest of our family will agree."

And didn't Damian know it? Because despite all the conflict and contempt that sometimes existed among them, it was still a fact that his family was protective, it was not a if but a certainty that if anyone harmed his baby brother then he was surely not the only one burning down a building or two.

It rang especially true that once they got picked up, instead of letting one of his siblings hold their new brother he tossed them a controller with a certain gleam in his eyes and watched them fight over who got to trigger the explosive he had placed underground before they were out of reach. All while their baby brother was snuggling into his arms and purring like a cat. Damian smirked at his older siblings, it appeared that his baby brother already had a favorite. Not like his siblings would have been a competition in the first place.

[palajae]

love me (k)not. | 1k special

PAIRING ▸ niki x reader, slight jungwon x reader

GENRE ▸ soulmate! au, string of fate! au, photographer! au, childhood-friends-to-lovers, romance, fluff, angst, humor, SLOW BURN

WORD COUNT▸ 15.6k

SUMMARY ▸ yes, niki can see the red string of fate that connects two people together. and no, he can’t just tell people who their soulmate is. you’re his only friend but there’s one problem and he can see it quite clearly (and literally)- your string isn’t connected to his. 

AKA a reality check that niki loves you, no matter what the universe says. 

AN/NOTES ▸ mentions of bullying, slight violence, child experimentation, food, drinking/alcohol (but only with an aged up riki and reader!!), kissing, jungwon being a jerk for a little :(

hi guys did anyone miss me :) it’s been a long ride but due to popular request for longer oneshots here is a very long one that i basically died over! i really hope you guys enjoy it as i worked super hard, and thank you guys again for 1k (more like 1.2k now but) ily 🩷

i. one string, two strings, red strings, new strings. 

he doesn’t know when it really started. it simply happened one cloudy afternoon. and it’s not like the subject was completely foreign to riki, oh no, he had definitely heard tales from older people about the topic. 

unfortunately for him, it just had to be when he was a mere seven year old. ‘it’ meaning the delicate and thin red strings— almost identical to the yarn his grandma would use for knitting—appearing all around him, encasing him in a world like a spy in a laser trap trying to escape with their precious treasure. 

tiny riki frowned, glancing around while still having a tight grip on his mother’s hand in order not to get lost in the vast mall they were currently shopping at. his attention was suddenly caught, eyes focusing on the larger hand he was still holding onto. more specifically, the pinky finger of his mother’s right hand. 

a perfect little knot wrapped around her smallest finger. 

his eyes followed the string, but it traveled quite far through the crowd of people and he eventually gave up, the string pulling farther than he thought. later would he really figure out the meaning of this, but at the time, he simply tugged on his mother’s shirt, attracting her attention. she glanced down, answering her child with a hum. 

cautiously, riki took a quick peek around at the passerby’s, confirming what he saw on what seemed to be about everyone else’s hands as well, almost getting lost in the maze of the red before his eyes flicked up to her. 

“what are the red strings for?”

his mother raised an eyebrow, leaning closer to hear better. “what? repeat what you said, riki.”

he stood up straighter, clearing his throat. “i said, what are the red strings on everyone’s hand for?”

riki’s mother paused, a train of thoughts running through her head. once an answer finally appeared, she attempted to calm her suddenly racing heart before squatting down and leaning even closer to her son. she looked him carefully in the eye, and riki can still remember the movement of her lips speaking clearly and slowly, the words that left her lips that day and changed his life forever. 

“just like the ones grandpa told you about?”

he remembers exactly what he responded back with. 

“yes.”

they went to the doctors eventually for assistance. riki now knows it would’ve been inevitable, and perhaps earlier was better than later. 

the doctor returned back with what seemed like an impossible diagnosis: riki can see people’s red strings of fate.

their soulmate connections. 

then came the questions, tests, experiments. it lasted for a long time in little riki’s head, and it was indeed a long time for a child. several years- five to be exact. five years spent in a lab, all in solitude, to be kept under control and monitored over time. 

riki remembers the overwhelming amount of people. people like the scientists with the tidy white coats and glasses who came in and took his blood or ran tests on his eyes and brain. he also remembers the average people who would occasionally come in, usually a man and woman looking quite anxious and timid, and who would sit down in front of him, both hands clearly in sight of riki. 

every time, as if it was natural instinct, his eyes would flick down to their right hand, spotting the tied knot on their pinky. then a scientist would ask questions- 

do you see a red string? yes. 

can you see who it is connected to? yes. 

is it to each other? 

yes—most of the time. occasionally, he would answer no with a shake of his head. there was always the variety of responses from the people. a gasp, crestfallen look, maybe even tears. whispers and murmurs would come from the white coated people as they wrote stuff down. 

riki was confused. did being soulmates really matter when most people (meaning everyone except riki) never had to ability to see who their soulmate was anyways? people fell in and out of love, regardless. 

the lab came up with a final conclusion: most likely, nishimura riki could indeed see people’s soulmates through their red strings. he couldn’t touch the red strings, it was like they were just imaginary, only visible to him. but they had no idea how, but they knew he could see them and if they were connected or not in accordance with his field of vision. 

most would think he was just a kid faking it—with a great deal of imagination—but his accuracy of determining two people’s soul connection was a little too frightening to be a childish prank. 

form what riki overheard, the government planned to keep his special “power” a secret. after all, riki was just a kid. public knowledge only meant trouble and who knew what else. half argued to leave the poor kid alone, while others vouched to keep him under surveillance for the rest of his life. 

either way, riki was forced to keep his mouth shut about his ability—not that he wouldn’t have wanted to say anything anyway. 

of course, rumors and secrets still leaked out, but for the most part, riki seemed to be safe. maybe a little too safe. he didn’t really have friends. no, he didn’t have friends at all. 

personally, the imaginary ones appearing in his years of loneliness didn’t count. riki possessed a power the world had never seen before, but he had no friends. no childhood. no life. 

after five years of living alone in a laboratory surrounded by white lights, white clothes, and more white walls, riki was finally released when the government reached a dead end in their research. how much power could a kid with soulmate seeing abilities wield? the government hoped it was close to none. besides, no one knew when he could get called in again.  

his parents? yes, he supposed they did love him. but enough to keep him from being tested on for years and not having a proper life? other would argue it was for the benefit of his “special ability.” 

research gave answers that in reality, didn’t have any use. (his parents wouldn’t mention the copious compensation fee the government gave for testing on their son, though).

and riki’s red string himself? 

he had to admit, when he was first discovering his newly identified ability, he was also curious about who his soulmate could be. and like many, many others when he took a peek, the string just carried on in the distance, unable to display the carrier of the other end. 

once riki was back in the “real world,” he was kept mostly at home during the heat of the summer. but he would always remember the feeling of being taken out of his room and directed outside into a dark, heavily guarded vehicle for occasional checkups. he remembers glancing outside while driving past tall buildings and sometimes seeing countless red strings pass him by, a sight he hadn’t seen since going to the mall with his mother all those years ago. 

his mother walked into his room one day with a clean, white envelope in her hands and an unreadable expression on her face. he looked up from his hands, eyes catching her red string hanging again before looking at his mother fully. 

“you’re attending a new school, riki.”

ii. eros and psyche. 

the cursed rules echo in his mind. they were pretty simple, yet held the heaviest consequences. 

don’t tell anyone about your abilities.

especially don’t tell anyone about their soulmate. 

it wasn’t his choice to. it’s not like he wanted to, either. even at the mere age of twelve, riki wasn’t one to mess with fate or whatever the universe was doing to him. the red lines invaded his personal space, but at some point it didn’t bother him anymore.

what really bothered him was the daunting task of attending school. learning in person, having homework, interacting with others. 

riki was educated at the labs, but that schooling came in the form of simple workbooks and videos. 

needless to say, the first few days were rough. 

quite hard. 

very hard. 

waking up early probably got riki the most. being surrounded by so many other kids was quite overwhelming. especially when they stared at him whenever he passed by like he was different. 

which, he was.

everyone else had established their respective friend groups already. he learned why pretty early on, though. why the weird looks and gossip passed by him. it was all because of one girl who just really couldn’t whisper for her life. (even without confirming or denying it, he wondered how they found out?) 

he even started to go by niki instead of riki—the one letter difference was the best he could do. 

perhaps rumors were spreading quickly around about riki and his ‘power’ to see others’ red strings connected to their soulmates. 

not even a week of school and riki already developed his own reputation. a feat of its own, no? 

at first, it was hard to adjust to seeing so many other kids, waking up at the crack of dawn, and managing the stupid overload of work—basically what seemed to be about everything. but somehow, riki felt a bit more settled in, if he could even describe it as that. 

he was quiet, extremely, but still very well known around the school. his grades weren’t bad after all, it turns out riki was pretty alright at “school”, although he mostly slept in class or daydreamed away. 

the one thing he could admit he failed at as a human (albeit a ‘special’ human) was socialization. 

yeah, riki had basically no friends and he embraced it. 

he sat in the back of the class, spoke a total of four words per day, and occasionally messed around. if he really felt like it, he would put in his earbuds and listen to his mixtape like an angsty teen before going home for the day. 

all day. all week. on repeat. 

if his mother was ever concerned and asked, his rationale would be that riki simply didn’t trust other people. he forced himself to stop caring about and looking at everyone’s red string and soulmates, or anything related. 

yet he still had to deal with strangers confronting him and asking who their soulmate was. it was all random people to him, mostly. so who knew what would happen if he became friends with someone, just to discover they used him to find out their soulmate? 

even years later, his theory is proven to be accurate. 

why, riki internally sighs, do people think they can get whatever they want, whenever they want?

the two girls in front of him, he finally spares them a glance. he just wanted to call it a day, go home and watch some anime or something, not have two random girls pounce on him after school. he barely manages to keep his mouth shut. 

“so,” one of them says, arms crossed and eyebrow raised, “can you tell us who our soulmates are?”

which obviously translates to: tell us now or you’ll suffer the consequences. 

he takes out an earbud nonchalantly, a blank expression on his face. 

“no thanks.”

she takes a step closer, and his eye twitches. “but you can.” 

her eyes glare into his, and her friend does the same. 

“i can, but will i?” riki asks sarcastically, annoyance beginning to reach its limit. when one of them grabs his shoulder, he starts to panic. 

“get your hand off me.” his voice is cold. 

“or what?” they mock. 

riki grits his teeth, attempting to cool down. he can’t fight back—not just because he doesn’t want to hit them, but because it’ll attract unnecessary attention and that’s the last thing he needs. 

the girls giggle that same annoying high pitched sound, although it’s not a blissful or joyful one, it sounds more like a warning with a malicious edge to it. 

“oh come on, won’t you be nice to us girls? we’ll let you-“ 

one hand reaches out and he dodges so quickly they have to pause for a second. 

“don’t touch me,” riki puffs out, barely keeping it together. 

“i said-“

“how many times does he have to tell you two to leave him alone?”

that was the first time. 

the very first time riki ever laid eyes on you, and the very first time his eyes didn’t immediately fall to your hand and red string.

they scowl, about to retort when you shrug uninterestedly, revealing your phone camera pointing straight at them. “i can just report you guys for bullying, you know, or like harassment.”

their eyes widen, before flashing you that look- the one blatantly showing that they just cursed at you silently- before furiously stalking off. 

silence follows as you put your phone away and riki collects himself. 

you turn to him, voice and expression softer than earlier. 

“you good?”

riki shrugs, about to turn away. 

“w-wait!” you call out hesitantly. he stops, on the verge of leaving regardless of what you have to say. 

“uh, don’t worry. i didn’t actually record anything, just made it look like i did.” 

you inhale, trying your best to ignore the awkward atmosphere. “i think we have some classes together? my name’s y/n.”

his eyes flick to yours for a split second before looking away. riki barely nods, putting his earbud back in. 

you clear your throat. “and yours is?” 

you can barely hear his quiet mutter of an answer before he walks off, leaving you alone in the hallway. you already knew what it was, you just wanted to hear his voice at least once. but his answer leaves you frowning (wondering if you didn’t hear him properly or didn’t clean your own ears properly.) 

riki, you contemplate thoughtfully.

regardless of if he was niki or riki, it sounded nicer coming from himself than it did from others. 

surprisingly enough, he runs into you again the next day. or not really, you sort of just found your way towards him in the back of the classroom and plopped your stuff down right beside riki. 

he didn’t notice you because of his earbuds in until you tap his shoulder, sending a small smile. riki stays emotionless, acknowledging your presence with a quick glance over. 

he can’t count the amount of times you attempted at keeping up conversation before giving up. riki would later regret the short, blunt answers he always gave in return. but it baffled him, how you would never mention the red strings or anything related. 

you talked about normal things like a normal person, and like riki was a normal person. it was weird how he could learn so much about you based on what you said in a day. 

like how you would complain about the astounding amount of homework but always did it all on time and aced every single test. or when you said you were starving but during lunch he would catch you giving your packed lunch to your other friends who were just as hungry as you. 

even how you would never fail to greet and sit next to riki, and randomly mutter under your breath for no reason. 

he didn’t understand you and how pervasive you were. when he’s a hard concrete wall and you’re still pounding at it every single time. but deep down, he never failed to see your lively soul.

riki’s encountered so many different people with differing intentions, and yet you stand out. he just can’t figure you out. 

you pass him the paper for attendance one day and he mutters a small thanks. you practically do a double take, staring at him for a good five seconds before beaming down at your paper. riki doesn’t miss that, either. 

he doesn’t know how it happens. you talk to him, and he feels himself responding before he can realize it. you never once mentioned the words red string or soulmate ever. perhaps that was what led him to feel a bit more safe around you. maybe his guard was never let down completely, but you certainly had some effect on him. 

maybe, you two became friends. although riki didn’t even know what friends even were. even the school picked up on it quite easily. one of the most brilliant kids in the grade hanging with the outcast- the weird kid who never said a word. 

riki doesn’t understand. you have your own friends–he assumes. why even bother with him? 

you start sitting next to him at lunch, for crying out loud. 

not that he minded, it was actually nice to sit next to someone and not an empty chair or desk.

“hey,” you plop down next to riki, stuffing a grape into your mouth. “what’d you get on the test?”

he looks up. “which one?”

you sigh, taking out a binder. 

“history.”

riki takes out an earbud, blinking. “78. you?”

you tsk while popping another grape into your mouth. “i thought our study session was helpful. i got a 97.”

he scoffs, nothing your displeased expression. “you’re smart. you should be happy.” 

you raise your eyebrows, ready to retort. 

“ you’re smart too, nishimura riki.”

“-if you stopped watching anime all day.”

you just barely manage to dodge the flying grape aimed at you. 

you take the seat next to him, taking out one of his earbuds with an intent expression. riki looks up at the loss of sound in his left ear, eyebrows furrowed to object. he stops when he sees you.

“you wanna hang out after class?”

“no.”

you pout. “why not?”

he shrugs. “ask my mom.”

“i personally think she would be ecstatic with you going out instead of staying cooped up inside all day.”  

he has to stay silent at that. 

triumphant, you pack up your stuff, not bothering to wait for his answer. “five pm at the gates.”

he shows up. riki wasn’t that big of a jerk (at least he thinks so). 

he did again when you invited him out after that. and again, and again. 

even when you both start adding more and more layers to your everyday outfits, nothing changes. even when exams started and the pink blossoms began falling from the trees. 

it’s like one second you were having one sided conversations and the next thing you know, you’re laying down next to each other in the grass during your lunch break. 

“so you literally just see the strings?”

oh, yeah. 

that was one of the things about you that made riki dumbfounded. at first, you didn’t say a single word about his ability. but as riki let his guard down and opened up more, he realized it was because you actually had no clue. somehow all the rumors that were spread about him never reached you. but once you found out, you did not stop asking questions. countless questions about his “really, really cool superpower” as you deemed it. 

“yeah. i see it.”

“everyday? all the time?”

he shoots you a look. “no, i can just sneeze and it’ll turn off.” 

“really?”

“no, stupid.” 

you huff, hands behind your head as you turn to glance at him and he averts his gaze quickly from your face. 

“that’s cool. but you probably wish you could turn it off, right?”

all the time, he thinks bitterly. maybe even permanently.

“can you touch them?”

“i told you already that i can’t!” he shifts, “besides, why would i want to—everyone would just be staring at me like i was a psycho if they just saw me creepily petting the air or whatever.”

he watches your reaction, seeing the corners of your mouth tilt up as you imagine it, and it makes his as well. there’s something satisfying about seeing your reaction that makes him unable to resist.

you abruptly stop, murmuring, “we’re friends, right?”

he pauses, swallowing. “uh, sure. what makes you ask that?” quickly, you shake your head. “oh no,  i just never asked you before. wanted confirmation.” 

“your only friend, right?” you add jokingly, and he elbows your side. 

“i’m kidding-“

“...but i like that,” you add quietly. 

a petal flutters down from the tree above you, landing in your hair. you don’t notice as you’re distracted, but riki does. as you start to speak again, he lifts a hand and delicately picks it out. you stop mid sentence as riki watches you gently. 

he swallows, and you quickly clear your throat. 

it was true. suddenly, riki’s quite glad that he didn’t know who your—his only friend—soulmate was. why, he’s not sure. all riki knows is that he doesn’t want to find out who your soulmate is. 

and he’d never admit it, but it was probably (definitely) fear. fear at who your string was connected to. why? 

he had no clue and that scared him even more. 

riki’s pulled along by your surprisingly strong grip, weaving through corridors and into an empty classroom. a couple of students stare as you two pass by, apparently still not over the fact that you and riki could be friends—let alone be in the same room. 

panting, you shut the door and lock it, but stay close to watch out through the window quietly. riki notices your hand still tightly intertwined with his but he decides to keep quiet. 

“what’s going on?” he whispers. your gaze breaks away from the window in order to reply to him. “this guy keeps following me-i’m pretty sure it’s the one who left the confession note in my locker and won’t leave me alone during the periods i don’t have with you.”

“someone likes you?” he asks incredulously, and you slap a hand over his mouth, shushing him fiercely as you continue your patrol from inside the classroom. 

his insides suddenly feel unpleasant. it’s already uncomfortable and stuffy enough in the room, being squished next to you behind the door so no one- well, apparently this annoying guy who’s stalking you- can find your whereabouts. he doesn’t know who this person is, but he doesn’t like it. not one bit. 

suddenly, there’s a voice coming from outside, one asking for the location of you. a couple of female ones answer, and riki figures they must belong to the girls from earlier who saw you guys pass by. 

you gasp, and riki feels your grip tighten. you pull him in closer so you’re practically squished together against the door, breaths held as quietly as possible. 

it takes everything in him not to squirm as riki waits, he fears you can hear the sound of his heart pounding. 

two… three… five minutes pass. only when you hear complete silence do you release him. flustered, riki pulls away, attempting to fix his wrinkled uniform so you don’t notice his reaction. 

it must’ve been a clear success, as you only heave a sigh of relief and flash a mischievous grin towards riki. 

“i think we’re good, let’s get out of here!”

you don’t make any leeway for him, escaping past the door and out the classroom without a sound. 

riki pauses, taking a second to catch his breath. the past few seconds of your close proximity replay in his mind. he shakes it off, brushing the weird sensation in his gut. 

still, he wonders if there was any chance you felt that too. or was it just him?

you throw your arm around riki, sporting a grin with a creepy similarity to that of the cheshire cat’s. he flinches at your action, almost cursing in the middle of the crowd of students. “what do you want?”

by this point, finally after two years, most people had gotten used to the sight of the two of you. all the gossip and whispers behind your back flew over his head—and it had never bothered you in the first place. 

you stifle a laugh. “no need to be so grumpy. come on, follow me.” you weave through the hallway of crowded kids and riki struggles to keep up, puzzled. 

he follows you to the somewhat empty courtyard, sitting down on a nice patch of grass as you wait for him to get settled. “why did you take me out here?”

you roll your eyes, “patient as ever, nishimura riki.” you dig through your messy school bag before your eyes light up. 

“close your eyes,” you order. 

he does as you say, no questions asked. riki feels a delicate sensation on his wrist—at this point he can recognize your warmth pretty easily. 

“all done.” 

he cautiously peeks his eyes open only to see you staring expectantly back at him. soon, his gaze falls down to where he felt your light touch before.

a simple, silver chain wraps around his thin wrist. 

pretty. 

confused, riki furrows his eyebrows, meeting your eyes that glimmer with a strange compassion. 

you hold up your own hand with a cute smile that makes his heart pound, displaying a matching bracelet—identical to his. 

“it’s not much but, happy birthday, riki.” 

to think that he himself didn’t even remember his own birthday. you beam at him, and he feels his ears grow red. 

“do you like it?”

“y-yeah,” he mumbles and you nod in satisfaction. “good, because i spent my own money out of my pocket for it. it wasn’t cheap, you know.” 

his eyes widen and you press your lips together. “in exchange, you have to promise me something.” 

under the peacefully swaying trees, under the warm sunlight and buzzing spring, he realizes he could promise you anything. 

you hold out your left pinky. “you’ll stick by my side no matter what. promise me that.”

he opens his mouth to speak but you’re faster, raising your other pointer finger to cover his lips. “just promise me or else i’ll take away your gift.” 

your childlike orbs envelop him, full of life and sincerity—he knows he’ll never forget that day.

nor when his own pinky reaches up to link with yours. 

riki remembers the day as clear as a fresh glass of water, a still puddle of rain that collected after the summer thunderstorms. 

you met up with him in first period as you usually did, ruffling his hair with an easy grin as he grumbles (albeit with an affectionate look that you failed to notice). 

class continued on normally, somewhat rowdy as always before the teacher came in. you get up to grab something on the floor, hair falling into your eyes. as usual, riki watches over you before spotting your foot catching on one of the chair’s legs. he quickly shouts out a warning, grabbing your wrist in order to balance you as your head whips up. 

he catches you, staring at you in concern and making sure you’re alright. you stare at him in shock, flustered and without a response. he chides you with a roll of his eyes, mumbling something about how clumsy you always were and how he always had to watch out for you.

you can’t seem to form any words, so you just snatch your arm back and sit down. riki wordlessly offers a earbud to you, and you accept it with a smile. it’s something you got used to doing, sharing music and playlists with each other. 

even as others made fun of you for doing supposedly cheesy couple things, you ignored them. but it did make you wonder. did you and riki seem like a couple? were you?

you guys were young, you had all of high school still to get through together. 

what did it mean? 

your thoughts get interrupted by the teacher opening the door. everyone settles down, attention focusing. 

but today, it was different. it wasn’t just your teacher walking in. 

there was an addition. an addition that came in the form of a handsome looking boy, around the same age as you guys. 

the teacher introduces him as a transfer student. yang jungwon, he smiles and riki swears people swoon. everyone’s attention is on him, even yours is as you all study him curiously. 

riki swore he was past all that looking at people’s soulmate strings and connections. it had been so long since he tried to put two and two together. it was a whole invasion of privacy, and he simply didn’t want to bother himself with other people’s affairs and relations. 

but once he saw that new kid step into the room, riki can only focus on his hand, the first thing that came into his view. 

and like it was in slow motion, he follows the tiny red string on his pinky down the row of desks to someone sitting a few inches away from riki himself, obviously not paying attention and oblivious to everything while listening to a shared earbud— you. 

he almost thinks his eyes are fooling him. it was barely connected by that thin, cursed string. and that’s when it really hits him.

that string was connected to yours. 

that string meant your soulmate just walked into the classroom—

and it certainly wasn’t riki. 

“jungwon’s really cool. did you know he did taekwondo since he was….”

riki ignores the chatter in the halls as he walks by, brooding as always. but this week was a bit harsher. probably, no, definitely because of the new student jungwon. 

ever since he joined your class, people had been talking about him nonstop. it seemed like jungwon was one of the popular kids now, without even doing anything. riki didn’t get what was so cool about him, anyway. 

sure he was “cute” and had a kind personality. sure he was incredibly smart and well spoken. that’s all riki had heard the past week from everyone else gossiping in awe. 

he turns up the volume on his phone, scoffing. what are they, his fans? 

riki wasn’t sure what to do with the newfound information about your soulmate. he didn’t really want to think about it, his first instinct was to look for you in his next period for some cheering up. but when he walks into the classroom, he doesn’t expect to see aforementioned person talking to you, an animated look on his face. 

jungwon gestures grandly, probably telling some super cool story from all his achievements. you seem pretty invested, watching with big eyes and occasionally laughing.  

riki feels desperation and anger swirl in the pit of his stomach. even worse, he feels loneliness. something he hasn’t felt for a long time blooms inside—something he hasn’t felt since he met you. 

what is he supposed to do now that you’ve found your soulmate? or rather, riki has? 

you thought everything was fine. everything seemed fine. after the new guy joined your class, riki acted a little weird the first couple of days but he returned to normal soon after. you figured it was because of his normally shy personality. it took you a (long) while for him to warm up to too, after all. 

but what you didn’t expect was for him to almost launch a full on investigation. on the new kid jungwon, strangely enough. 

you frown. “he’s nice? why are you asking me this? it’s not like we’re friends or anything.” 

sure, jungwon talked to you unexpectedly a couple of times, but he was very popular and did that to many people. it wasn’t like he was targeting you or anything like that. or so that’s what you believed. 

but it didn’t stop there. in the few classes you shared with the two boys, whenever jungwon would start up a friendly conversation with you, you could feel riki staring holes into your back. and whenever riki made a dumb joke in the middle of class and you flicked him playfully, you swore you caught jungwon’s eye on more than one occasion. 

you brushed it off, but one day it was suddenly no longer a matter of trivial things. 

usually it was just you and riki at your lunch table, and it had been that way for a while. your friends opted to stay away from him, and you shrugged it off. it was their loss, not yours. 

so when jungwon and his group of popular kids approached you and riki, jungwon taking the seat next to you while riki visibly tensed, you figured something was up. you could hear the onslaught of whispers from surrounding tables. 

jungwon, the ideal student, joining you and the weird outcast riki? 

from then on, the changes were too drastic to ignore. hanging out with just riki, you knew he was obviously bothered but wouldn’t tell you about it. it was visible that he had a clear disdain for jungwon, but would never verbally express it as much as you tried to get it out of him. it was an unreachable part of him, although you thought you had worked hard to get past that secretive, closed off part of him. 

worse was jungwon sitting next to you various times in class and making too much conversation for you to ignore (although you really tried to show you weren’t interested in talking the whole time). all while riki stared forward with an unreadable expression, music practically on full blast. 

you didn’t know what was going on, and you didn’t know the situation—how to get a grasp on it. you especially didn’t know the occasional looks the two boys would give each other, and how things would change so soon. 

all you knew was that it happened one gloomy day, nearing the end of the school year. 

you had just finished an exam in science and went looking for riki to walk home together, as you did every day when school ended. when he wasn’t anywhere to be found, you asked around. 

most answers came in the form of shrugs, however a couple of classmates recalled seeing him with another group of kids. 

you frowned—what reason would riki have to go off with some other people? perhaps you heard the mention of jungwon’s name but you were too preoccupied with finding riki to really pay attention. 

before you could get far, you were welcomed into a strange atmosphere when you reached the courtyard. students whispering and gossiping with a variety of expressions present. your heart began to race as you look around. where is he? 

you figure you must’ve missed something as the crowd eventually disperses and you get no answers. perhaps riki had a schedule after school and forgot to tell you? 

you could’ve sworn you heard someone say jungwon’s name again, but this time along with riki’s name. you brush it off though as you needed to get home before it started to rain—you could feel it in the air. 

so you send riki a quick message before starting on the journey home. 

the next morning, you checked your phone to find no response. weird. 

either way, you had no time to question it as you were already late to class, so you quickly slip in to the seat next to your classmate. your eyes don’t fail to see riki and jungwon’s empty seats. 

you nudge haerin sitting next to you. “do you know where niki is? i haven’t seen him since lunch yesterday and he hasn’t responded to any of my texts.”

her eyes widen as she places a hand on your shoulder. 

“y/n….you haven’t heard?”

your eyebrows furrow, “heard what? what’s going on?”

the next thing you remember, is your heart dropping. 

“niki’s leaving.” 

riki…leaving you? 

“what do you mean?”

her eyes soften, and you begin to despise the pity on her face. “he’s leaving the school. no one knows why but-“

you zone out after that. 

your best friend transferring schools—moving away for some unexplained reason? 

no one at school says anything, and you feel like everyone’s keeping you out of the loop on purpose. you hate the feeling that you’re missing a huge piece of the puzzle. 

with no explanation, with no answer from his number (no matter how many times you tried calling), riki disappears in the blink of an eye. it’s as if he never existed in the first place. 

rumors follow but you know better than to listen to them. all you found out was apparently something happened that day—you suspect, no you know, between riki and jungwon—and the damned result was riki leaving your school. 

he never mentioned anything about moving, as far as you knew. he never acted like anything was wrong either. it had to have been something from that day. or maybe not. 

at this point, you didn’t know what to believe. you had just lost your closest friend, your study-slash-lunch-slash-everything buddy, and your number one support. 

and somehow everything was supposed to go back to normal. everyone continues on normally, including jungwon. 

everyone except you. 

he’s gone and he left you alone. 

as if you ever hoped to see him again. 

iii. welcome to the world.

you exhale, smoothing out your wrinkled outfit for the tenth time. you chide yourself internally, why were you so nervous? 

it was just an internship. your first day, too. only recently did you graduate high school yourself. 

it was just the first day of your newly acquired internship and yet you were nervous for it at a new company in a new city. it was your choice to relocate to a new area for new beginnings and new memories. 

to be quite frank, you had no clue what you were doing. why did you even decide to focus on photography? you most definitely didn’t have much experience, only starting the hobby when you graduated high school. maybe you wanted a chance to take your mind off life and see things in a new light. a second chance. 

maybe photos didn’t make you feel as alone.

shivering, you shake your head to clear free of thoughts. time to get this over with. the oh so dreaded first day. 

before leaving, you don’t forget to leave some food for the stray cat outside your place. you then get up with a satisfied grunt and make your way to the bus stop. 

however, your new boss was kind and understanding of your nervousness. you visited the company a couple times before, but never enough to get familiar with the layout and other photographers due to obtaining the internship so suddenly. you didn’t expect to get it either, not as a young, inexperienced student almost fresh out of college. either luck was on your side or your talent seemed to shine through. 

it was strange to be in such a different environment than from what you grew up in. supportive, encouraging people all highly invested and passionate in their jobs. 

you set up everything in your assigned desk and wait for further instruction. 

your boss had showed you around and gotten you used to the daily activities of those working at a photography company, making your transition much smoother.  

the whole experience was a little too easy, making you feel so much lighter. you could feel it. things were good- perhaps too good to be true. 

“isn’t the first day always the best?” mr. lee, your boss, speaks up. 

you quickly nod. “so far, it’s been really good. i was just wondering what my job was actually going to be for the next few months.”

he claps his hands together, almost startling you. 

“of course—i like your attentiveness! you’ll be working under one of our best, accompanying him on his work and assisting with whatever he needs to get a feel for what we do here. we can meet him now if you’d like?” his question causes you to pause.

“of course.” you wonder who this ‘he’ was, apparently being one of the best. 

a sudden wave of nervousness hits you. all the doubts and fears start to rise, so you swallow and try your best to suppress it. 

why did you have such a bad feeling? 

as your boss leads you down the offices and desks, you nod enthusiastically and laugh at his remarks as you make your way to the stairway. you go up, about to reach the top step when you spot someone coming down, their faculty name tag flashing in the light. you just barely steal a glimpse of the name, of the face of the person moving. 

it’s foreign yet familiar at the same time. 

you pause. his face…

you doubt you heard mr lee’s sudden hearty welcome to said person, turning to introduce you with a bright smile. a smile that doesn’t know anything. 

“ha, what a coincidence. this is miss y/l/n! you still haven’t met one of our most talented photographers, have you?” 

that’s when it hits you. 

you feel like everything’s occurring in slow motion, mr. lee’s lips moving slowly, the person’s unreadable expression morphing as you both come to a realization. 

“this is our very own best nishimura. nishimura riki.” 

your heart drops. no. 

it’s not. it can’t be.

why does it feel like the world just crashed down around you? why is it suddenly so hard to breathe? your eyes can’t leave those familiar ones, the same ones that have haunted you ever since that day. 

those eyes that fill with recognition at the sight of you, you’re sure of it. 

and then, everything is set into motion once more. you blink quickly, several times, exhaling as you try to readjust. 

“nice to meet you,” you quickly bow while avoiding his gaze. this actually can’t be. 

“you’ll be working with him for the-“

you mutter some lame excuse of needing to go to the restroom before dashing up the rest of the stairs to the nearest safe room, ignoring your boss’s surprised voice.

once you find the restroom, you find the sink and turn on the water. you scrub and scrub your hands before staring at yourself in the mirror. 

not after all this time-

not after he left you, he can’t just suddenly appear again. did you just imagine him? 

you still can’t believe it, almost refuse to believe it. nishimura riki, after 10 or so years, appears in the flesh right before you. you had long given up on trying to find him. and here he is, working at the same place as you. 

he exists, perfectly alive and well without you. 

it was just too much. riki was all grown up. he really looked the same, just much, much taller and more grown up in his professional attire. you weren’t used to it. or the fact that, he came back. 

unless he never really left. 

all those years in middle school and high school you tried to forget come rushing back. the rumors that followed your footsteps, the questions never answered. all those years of pain and loneliness, and confusion-

staying up so many nights pondering what you did that made him run away, leave you when he promised he would be there. after all that time wondering and wondering why and how and what you did. and what could’ve been done. 

maybe you were being dramatic but it doesn’t change the fact that he left without a word, and with no contact for you to keep in touch. no attempt at all. 

you were so hurt, so closed off now. you convinced yourself that you never cared to see his face again, but what were you supposed to do when riki shows up again, unannounced in front of you like nothing ever happened? 

was there even anything left between you two? 

you decided early on that your best course of action was to pretend that you never knew him. riki was a complete stranger, and it wasn’t truly a lie. it had been so long since you last saw him. 

but you know that won’t work forever. especially not when he was the one you were working under.  

you didn’t know what to call him, how to call him. mr. nishimura sounded way too formal especially considering your history, and riki was obviously off limits.  

the next day, you stand in front of his desk with your hands clasped together in front of you like a scolded child in front of the principal. you couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes. 

“so…uh, i guess you’ll be working with me for the next couple of months?”

you barely nod, shifting in your position uncomfortably. instead, your eyes fall on the pictures scattered around the walls in riki’s office. 

“i’ve never had an intern before, so-“

you interrupt him impatiently while still avoiding eye contact. 

“just tell me what you need me to do, mr. nishimura.” 

you could visibly see the both of you cringe at that. 

“-please.” you add pitifully as an afterthought. 

noticing your coldness, riki must have enough common sense to give you some papers to file and chart. 

what a wonderful first day. 

you would describe your present relationship with riki as a very formal (and strained) senior-junior one. besides your daily task of avoiding your own mentor as much as possible, you rather enjoyed the work. so far, getting to learn the true process behind taking photos was something you never experienced. 

and seeing riki in his element, with his raw talent and skill was another thing in itself. it was a lot to process, seeing an entirely different, mature riki. 

you were a little too sad that you missed his growing up. 

in the break room one morning, you sip peacefully on your freshly made coffee. it was a nice day, at least you believed so until you heard the door open, signaling the entrance of another person. 

you’re about to greet them politely until you realize who exactly it was. you swallow a little too harshly, tensing as the person approached you. 

“if you’ll excuse me,” you mutter while slipping past him. riki stands there, unmoving as he watches your figure leave. 

it had been like that since the first day when he was reintroduced to you. dry to no responses, indifferent gaze, not a single glimpse into you. into the you that he knew, or once knew. 

it was like he was the one talking to a built up wall, unable to do any damage. it’s almost funny how it’s like your positions from back then were switched. 

he figured your cold and unapproachable demeanor was only to him—understandably. there was a lot you must’ve been feeling, as well as he. it was a long journey with a lot of baggage riki was still carrying. 

still, he sees you with some of the other interns, smiling and laughing as you once did with him. as he stares at you from afar (hopefully not in a stalkerish way), riki realizes that you still have the same laugh, same smile, same attentive expression when someone calls your name. 

and yet, you’re so different. you’re so far away from him. 

as time goes on, you realize you can’t act like a little kid for the rest of your life. well, for the rest of the time you had this internship (and currently you didn’t have any plans to resign, especially since you literally just started).

during the lunch break, you don’t expect the seat next to you to be taken. you stiffen once you realize who it is—his presence was so familiar that you didn’t even have to take a glance to see who it was. 

you start to rise from your seat, but a hand clasps gently around your arm. you freeze. 

“y/n,” he starts quietly. you shiver at the sound of his voice, recognizable yet unrecognizable at the same time. you feel like you can’t breathe. 

“please. not now.” 

with that, you stalk away, meanwhile your eyes fly across the room to ensure no one saw your interaction.  

how much longer could you keep doing this? 

the more you see him, the more you can’t ignore the fact that you really, really did miss him. it’s like nothing changed—except for his appearance—and you couldn’t suppress the amount of relief you had at the realization that riki was still riki, after all. 

he was still the same boy you shared earbuds with back then, at least in your eyes.

you want to know how he’s been. what he’s done, how he came back, how he became the person he is today. 

on the other hand, riki realizes the complete transformation you’ve undergone.

the first conversation he had with you after oh so many years, you merely handed him his coffee with a short nod. his attempt to bring up the weather, school, anything just to talk to you again, obviously fell short. 

riki’s strategy? give you your space and time. of course he respected that, and maybe you noticed because it seemed to weaken the intimidating barrier from before. 

after that, you acknowledged him, greeted him (albeit shortly) every morning—riki even noticed you watching him edit some photos although you thought he couldn’t see you. 

while you would never admit it, riki looked pretty cool teaching you his tips and tricks. you didn’t realize how much his job suited him and how lucky his company was to have acquired such a talented, soulful person as a photographer. 

you can tell, riki wants to get talk to you so badly, but in fear of getting hurt again, you push him away. it’s hard, when all you can do is expect him to vanish without another trace again. 

as you finish touchups on the last photo, you sigh and rub your eyes. things were different now. no point in wondering what could have been. 

you walk out into the hallway, wishing to get some coffee to power through those last edits. but you soon stop in your tracks. 

“y-y/n.” 

your eyes lower to the floor, acknowledging him with a nod. “hey.” 

“are you going to the break room?”

you nod again. 

“then…” he hits you with those hopeful eyes and you curse internally. “can i come with?”

a surprisingly comfortable silence fills the air, along with the soothing smell of coffee. 

riki comments on your more compliant and meek nature—it’s certainly supposed to be a joke but you take it the wrong way.

you frown. “i’ve changed, riki.” 

he falters. maybe he’s done too much, too soon.

“i’ve grown up. just like you have. we both have, so maybe you should accept me now like i have to you.”

you turn to leave but he grabs your wrist. 

“please. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it like that. i know i’m in no position to say this, but i thought we were doing okay. i really want to be friends with you again—truly.”

you sigh audibly. there really was no value in being awkward with him for your time here. at least if you tried to maintain an amicable relationship, you wouldn’t have to make up dumb excuses every time you saw him. and if you got closer again, perhaps you could figure out after all this time why he left.

even more importantly, why he came back. 

“could we please start over?” his voice is the softest you’ve ever heard it (and much deeper than you were used to). 

you wait two, three seconds before turning around, 

and sticking your hand out. 

“nice to meet you,” you introduce yourself. you watch the smile start to grow on his face. 

“i’m nishimura riki, and it’s very nice to meet you too.”

riki sighs, clicking the red x button in the corner. he finished his last portfolio with you as his assistant. it was only a matter of hours, or minutes, before he was assigned his next project. he turns off the light and closes the door behind his office, only to be greeted by your figure. 

an eyebrow of his raises. “were you waiting for me?” 

you scoff, casually kicking the ground with your shoe while looking off into the distance. “no.” 

“well, i was,” you glance at him abruptly in surprise, “let’s go.” 

“huh?” 

he shrugs, “we finished and everyone else is gone.” 

you didn’t expect riki to be so… enthusiastic about it. it as in hanging out together, as friends again. 

maybe, you always knew in the end you had to give in. there was no way you could keep up this act against riki. it had always been like that. 

if anyone saw you two out now they would probably assume you were two college kids on a date. 

wait- date? 

“-y/n?” 

you glance up, startled. “yeah?”

riki frowns, sipping his boba. “are you okay? you seemed distracted. what were you thinking about?” 

you shake your head with a sheepish laugh, “nothing. sorry.” 

you wondered how you got to this point. 

meeting riki outside of work and hoping you don’t run into any of your co-workers. honestly, it was fun to have a friend to talk with—it was fun to have riki next to you again. 

your teenage self would have been dumbfounded. 

while you had this time with him, you could finally ask some things you were curious about. 

“riki,” you start off and he tries his best to keep calm. it was the first time you had called him by his first name in years. he missed it dearly. 

“how did you get into photography?”

he knows what you meant to ask. how did you get here? 

he falls back into his chair, staring up at the ceiling. you know just know riki too well, simply waiting patiently for him to take his time.

“i don’t know, to be honest. i always felt different from everyone else.” he pauses and looks at you, “you knew that the best.”

“i wanted to study people more. so i started taking pictures of others. now i just specialize in photographing more important people, like models and idols. i still don’t know how i got here though. that’s the truth.” 

“you’re really good,” you say lamely. “you’re very talented and i’m jealous, to be frank.”

you see his ears turn red as he coughs shyly. 

“thank you. i guess it’s what i’m best at.”

that wasn’t the exact answer you were expecting, but you took it. soon, you promised yourself, you would uncover the truth. 

iv. cupid’s attack. 

you like to think that you and riki get into a good groove at work. 

you can’t help but burst out laughing, and riki almost stops in his tracks. 

he realizes that sweet and soulful sound was just as he last remembered it. it almost makes him shiver. yes, not everything changed about you.

he knows. it can’t last forever—this push and pull relationship. plus, your budding relationship has to result in an explanation. you deserve it at the very least.

as much as riki wanted to keep it hidden, secrets can’t always stay secrets forever. he can’t protect you from everything in this world, his selfish wants can’t always be kept.

as the two of you joke around, various other workers stare at you in envy. somehow, you got to work with the mysterious yet talented riki. the one who got hired out of the blue and somehow rose to the top. no one could deny his skill. 

his intimidating and mysterious aura haunted the office for some time. that is, until you came. the way he treated you was shocking to say the least. it seemed like you two were in your own world. there was definitely something, and everyone could see that. 

“sorry to interrupt,” another intern speaks up shyly, but the boss wanted me to tell you guys that the party starts at 8.”

“party?” you turn to riki with a perplexed expression. 

“ah, i forgot to mention. we have an office dinner party to celebrate the new interns and their hard work.” riki nudges you with a glint as your eyes widen. 

“that includes you.”

you weren’t the partying type—if that wasn’t obvious enough. especially not one out of the blue, one not meant for you. 

you shift uncomfortably at the large dinner table. riki ended up sitting next to you somehow. you like to think he did it on purpose, knowing you weren’t the type to enjoy socializing in large groups (and neither was he). but little did you know, he came for you. 

only you. 

everyone was urging you guys to drink, as it was custom to do so at office parties. but you had a limit, so when you get up to leave, making some lame excuse about having more work to finish up at home, riki immediately gets up as well. all eyes fall on you two, and you awkwardly take your leave with a tipsy riki in tow. 

“yeah, it’s definitely time to get you home.” 

with a rather embarrassing grunt and help from fellow co-workers, you manage to get a grip around riki’s shoulders. 

once you make it out of the restaurant however, you realize that you indeed have no clue where riki lives. 

“riki,” you start off cautiously, “what’s your address?” 

“there!” he points sluggishly toward a nearby barbecue place. you huff. 

“seriously, riki. i need to get you home. you’re way too drunk to-“

“let’s go there,” he slurs. “i’m hungry.” 

as much as you stand your ground, his incessant begging eventually gets to your head and you cave. 

“fine. i’ll just order you some side dishes. then we’re actually going home.” 

you can only blink at the amount of dishes on the table that riki ate alone (and the amount that was going to be charged to your card). 

“riki… i think that’s enough.” you softly place a hand on his still holding the chopsticks. you mutter something along the lines of, i didn’t know you ate this much this late at night… 

somehow, he manages to hear you. he sounds more sober and looks more sober as well, to your relief. “yeah, well, how do you think i got this tall?”

it’s true, you were quite shocked at how tall he got. for a second, you simply stare at him while lost in your thoughts. perhaps it was the alcohol still running in your system. 

he raises an eyebrow, “what’s so interesting about me suddenly?”

you clear your throat, felling your face turn hot. “nothing.” 

suddenly, it feels as if the mood has changed again. you know this is your chance, and you can’t miss it. not ever again. 

“don’t you need to go home soon? would, would anyone be waiting?”

riki lets out a short laugh. 

“as if. i’ve been living alone ever since i came back.” 

ever since he came back. 

you look down at your hands. 

“why did you come back?” you whisper. and yet, he hears it again. 

as he’s about to respond, you glance at him with a conflicted look. “why did you leave?”

riki inhales, placing his chopsticks on the table neatly. “i’m just… so sorry y/n, for leaving you-“

“then tell me. that’s the least you can do.” 

you hate how your voice quivers at the end. 

“i… it’s all my fault. i lost control. i got into a fight with yang jungwon.” 

you try your best to keep the surprise off your face and let him continue.  

“and with my reputation at the school, my parents and the principal came to the conclusion that it was best for me to leave.” 

“i didn’t know that it meant going overseas,” he quickly adds, “but i had no choice as a teenager. i could only listen to my parents and when i got the chance, i came back as soon as i could.” 

you almost forgot about his so called ability. but it didn’t even matter at this point. you had countless questions, but it seemed like riki was still holding back. there was something he didn’t want to tell you, something he didn’t want you to know. 

you were somewhat satisfied with his answers, but something was still bothering you. 

you can feel his eyes on you, waiting for some sort of response. 

“i see… but why didn’t you come find me?” you voice cracks. “why didn’t you make any effort at all to see me again? because so far, it seems like you were pretty okay with me not knowing that you still existed.” 

what you really meant to say was, 

you seemed perfectly fine without me. you seemed perfectly fine while i was still hurting after all this time. 

“even more,” you continue on, “after you came back all this time.” 

riki shakes his head, “i was looking for you.” 

you falter at that. 

“i always was, even in another country far away. i had to get a new phone and lost your number and all contact. but when i was finally able to come back to our hometown, you were gone. i was able to get a job at our current company due to my parents connections, and i was going to use that money to pay for travel expenses. just to find you.” 

“i swear y/n,” and you almost tear up at the sincerity in his eyes, “i would never abandon you.” 

“just like i promised all those years ago.” 

his voice grows soft, “i always wondered what happened after i left. what you were up to. i imagined you being super successful while doing something you love.” 

you laugh in order to lighten up the heavy mood, “as you can see now, that’s certainly not the case. i actually have no clue what i’m doing with my life.” 

“you’re- you’re not with anyone or anything?” 

you shoot him a baffled look, “what in the world? i can’t even take care of myself, let alone another person.” 

you’re so shocked at the question that you miss riki’s subtle sigh of relief. you hadn’t gotten with jungwon— at least not yet, he thinks. 

“then, what was high school like? you know, without me?” 

you shake your head, not willing to think about those times. 

“lonely, obviously, without you,” you grumble. 

you had some friends still, but they weren’t riki. they never would be and could never replace him. 

you decide to not mention jungwon and the short period of time after riki’s leaving in which he tried to hang out with you. most definitely not after learning what riki told you. 

it was weird even to you, how such a popular guy like yang jungwon wanted to hang out with you for some time. but he soon gave up, whether it was because of all the other students noticing and gossiping or because of your moody brooding over the loss of riki.

“that’s all?”

you nod shortly. “i graduated, became interested in photography, and applied for this internship. end of story.” 

you shake your head, “i just don’t know how we both got here at the same company, at the same time. man, i was even chosen to work for you of all people.” 

riki’s smile grows–

“it’s like it was fate,” you murmur absentmindedly. 

–and it immediately drops at that.  

“can you still see people’s red strings?” of course, you had to bring that topic up at this time. 

“yeah. but i’m done with all that soulmate connection strings and stuff. i just ignore it now.” 

you obviously see his change in demeanor at the topic. 

“that’s good. it obviously doesn’t affect your photography. i didn’t know how talented you were.” 

although so many people had told him that before, it was different hearing it from you. he blames his face flushing on the alcohol, not your compliment.

“t-thanks. you are too. i can see your potential.” 

you cock your head, “really? aren’t you just saying that because i’m working with you?”

he shakes his head vehemently. 

“of course not. i think you’re one of the most special people in the world. you would be good at anything you want to do, because that’s just you y/n.”

you cough at the sudden change in the air. you don’t think you can handle his endless complimenting. 

“thank you riki, really. but are you done eating? i think we should head out.” 

you leave with not just your stomachs fuller, but your mind and heart as well. 

other nights were spent staying up at the office, finishing edits and cuts. those were the best nights though, in your opinion. 

you got the best advice and the best late night talks with riki—he really felt like a leader now. it made you realize how grown up he became. 

“i still have the bracelet you gave me. i keep it on my desk just so i don’t lose it.” 

your mouth drops open, “ no way? the one i gave you in middle school?” he nods and you internally shudder while thinking about what happened to yours. 

“i hate to break it to you, riki, but i actually lost mine..” 

–which translated to i threw mine away out of anger and sadness. but you figured you could keep that a secret for the time being.

“it’s fine. i’ll just get us new matching ones.” riki swears he never will forget the satisfied smile on your face, eyes twinkling and nose scrunching. 

that was it. riki really tried. 

he tried his best, but he can’t help falling in love with you. 

he can’t even tell if you like him back or if you’re just being kind, because you are originally just a kind and beautiful soul. 

he likes you too much it hurts, but he can’t be hurt again. he doesn’t want to be. 

he doesn’t want to tell you about all the secret pictures he would snap of you instead of the actual model that he was working with. the amount of time and effort put into his hidden collection of you. it was one of his works that he was the most proudest of. one that he would cherish forever. 

he didn’t even know when he realized it— that riki loved you. perhaps it was the countless hours spent up at night thinking about you, all alone. 

but loving you came easily and naturally. red string or not, niki would love you endlessly no matter what. and whatever happened in the end, he would only want happiness for you. 

occasionally he would wonder why he had to go through all that testing when he was young, why he had to go thought that entire, torturous and isolating experience. 

but then he thinks about you and how without being stuck in the lab for however many years, he would have never met you in the conditions that you met in. you would have never gotten the chance to save him from those bullies if he had gone to school at a normal age and been like all the other kids. 

everything that happened to riki, it was to bring him to you. for some reason, he’s sure of it. 

even with all that—the feelings and acceptance and denial— riki tries his best to suppress his feelings and just enjoy being with you again. just to make up for lost time, he reasons. 

he knew you two weren’t soulmates, he saw it once more the supposedly fated day he met you again for the second time. 

still, he doesn’t think he could be with anyone else but you. riki knows in his heart you’re the only one for him. he stares at his own red string leading off into the unknown distance. even if the universe said otherwise. 

even if the universe said otherwise, he didn’t want to lose you again. 

the vip landyards you got for entering the venue backstage weren’t vip after all. 

one good thing about riki’s job was the free access to public events, obviously to capture the best photos. but on this occasion, you two were denied access for no particular reason. 

no matter how much riki demanded, the even taller and intimidating body guards wouldn’t budge. 

“it’s fine,” you place a hand on riki’s shoulder to calm him. “we can just go through the front. i bet someone will be willing to listen to us there.” 

you know riki wants to argue more but you give him a look and he concedes. 

the crowd was wilder than you thought though. mainly due to it being some group called oncolon or whatever performing. navigating through the huge crowd, riki suddenly takes your hand tightly. 

you almost trip over some person’s foot, glancing at him with wide eyes and a slight blush. he doesn’t say a single word. 

you’re sure you’ve gotten knocked and pushed several times in the wild crowd. you try your best to keep up, but at some point, too many bodies separate you and riki. 

a rather hard shove causes you to lose your balance, falling onto the ground (with a painful jolt up your butt). 

all you can hear is the booming music for a moment and the flashing lights, until a hand suddenly reaches through. you almost don’t notice it at first until you hear your name being called. 

suddenly you’re being pulled up forward, into sturdy arms. 

“are you okay? sorry i lost you-“

when you see that it’s riki, dark orbs filled with concerned as he speaks, you nod dumbly while zoning the rest of his words out. 

you couldn’t really concentrate, not when you were trying to process the fluttering of your heart and his body oh so close to yours. 

but oh no, it doesn’t stop there. 

it was rather sudden—you called riki over to your desk to ask for his opinion some time later. 

“should i lower the exposure more? i know you were going for a darker look since it fits the concept-?”

what you don’t expect is him to lean a little too close to comfort over you and your desk to reach the computer. even more, you don’t expect his hand to cover yours over the mouse as he clicks a few things. 

all you do is hold your breath but you can still smell him faintly, a comforting and familiar scent. your eyes almost flutter shut. 

suppressed feelings are coming back. coming back to haunt you for good. 

it does indeed feel a little too good to be true. you feel so giddy around riki, like a high schooler experiencing their first love. but you never got to. 

it felt like you were getting to reexperience your teenage years properly with riki—how it should’ve gone. but it’s a little different. it feels a little too different. you want to blame it on the fact that you guys are older and you overthink things, but the feelings and emotions inside you say otherwise. 

v. the thin line between love and hate. 

you startle at the sudden coffee placed in front of you, by a bashful riki. 

“hm? what’s this for?”

he scratches the back of his head, “you’ve been working so hard lately, too much for an intern. i don’t want to be known as the guy who overworks the newbies.”  

the warming of your heart falls flat.

“ha ha ha,” you laugh dryly. “thank you though.” 

before he leaves you to continue your work, he adds, “don’t forget to eat too. i brought some lunch for you in the fridge.” 

you don’t fight off the dumb smile on your face when you open the community fridge to see a packaged lunch with a sticky note on top reading, 

y/n’s only!! no touching!! (please and thank you) 

in someone’s very familiar handwriting that hadn’t changed at all since middle school. 

still, you don’t know how you haven’t gotten fired yet. you tried your best to maintain a professional relationship at work, yet the amount of jokes and ridiculous faces riki made was going to be the death of you. 

he manages to get a choked sound out of you as you put your head down in an attempt to hold back your laughter. he only looks on proudly when you try your best to chide him. 

“focus, riki!”

“how can i focus when his feet smell from across the roo-“

you place a finger over his soft lips, eyes raising from them to his innocent (yet deadly) looking gaze. 

“stop disturbing the others!” you scold. 

“i think you should tell his feet that.”

you stare at each other blankly for a second or two, your eyes flicking to the man’s shoes across the room, before you both can’t help but bursting into a silent fit of laughter. 

meanwhile everyone else looks on, confused but starting to get used to the two of you at this point. 

as riki admires your face full of glee, he thinks there couldn’t have been anything better. 

maybe he should’ve known the universe wouldn’t let him off that easy. 

you’re on the way home from work when you receive a message from riki. he asks for you to stop by the store to grab him ice cream, and you roll your eyes. 

you already knew what that meant. anime night at riki’s place although his deadline was the next day. 

when he sends the begging emojis, you sigh and change routes to the nearest mart. you couldn’t resist him, even if you wanted to. 

you’re browsing the aisles, adding more and more snacks that you really didn’t need but you knew would make riki (and by default—you) happy. 

as you reach for the bungeobbang snack, you don’t notice the hand that grabs it at the same time. a shock courses through you for a split second, and you pull your hand back. 

“sorry…” 

you glance at the figure. and you cock your head. 

a distinct pair of eyes blink back at you. 

wait a second… 

“no way. yang jungwon?”

his mouth drops open. “y/n? it’s been years!” 

you nod, almost laughing at the complete turn of events. “i can’t believe it either. what are you doing here?”

it turns out jungwon was in town for work, as per a client's request. he had also grown up a lot and changed much more than you expected. 

he was still the same, handsome and charming jungwon. but he had definitely matured and you found yourself enjoying the catching-up talk with him. to the point where you lost track of time. 

only was it until you see riki’s name light up your phone do you remember. you scramble to get your things (and probably melted ice cream). 

“sorry jungwon, i have to get going.” 

he gets up to help you gather your things. you can’t help but notice the warmth of his hand lingering on yours when he passes you the last grocery bag. 

“it was really nice to see you again. do you maybe want to keep in touch?” 

you only nod at his hopeful eyes. “of course! we can exchange numbers and meet up again while you’re still here.” 

feeling strangely light on your way to riki’s place, the guilt hits you when you are greeted by riki’s worried face. 

“what took so long?”

you think about jungwon and cringe internally. you don’t think you have the heart to tell riki. not today. 

-Is what you keep telling yourself. days, and days after that first encounter. you just don’t know how to bring it up to riki, or when. after everything that happened, 

you don’t think you can’t risk it. not when you just got your riki back. 

you’re surprised at how often jungwon texts you. maybe he was still the same jungwon after all, still wanting to hang out with you all the time like back in the old days. 

but this time, you had no reason to object. again, guilt washes over you as you respond to his text before looking over at a focused riki. 

just once wouldn’t hurt, you manage to convince yourself. 

it’s not like riki would care that much anyways. the past was the past and things were different now. why would he care if you hung out with another guy? 

it’s not like he liked you… right? 

you repeat that to yourself everyday. everyday that riki greets you with that adoring face of his. everyday that he teases you, makes you laugh, and helps you through all the hard times. 

even the day that you thought he was going to kiss you. when he reached over you to grab the remote, but he didn’t go back to his spot. he stayed hovering over you, faces inches apart. 

and he stared at you, into you, with those eyes that he always looked at you with. 

yet riki didn’t do anything. he didn’t make a single move, so that means it should be fine if you met jungwon just this once? 

even so, you get off work early, rushing to get home and prepare. you brush off riki’s reminder of him stopping by your house later to return your jacket he borrowed. how it fit him, you still don’t know. 

even more you don’t know is why you feel pressured to dress up nice and prepare, just to see jungwon. it was just a simple catch up with him. it wasn’t like you were going to keep seeing him after that. it wasn’t a date of any sort… 

jungwon pulls out the chair and you awkwardly sit down and thank him. 

ok so maybe you should have dated in high school, just so you wouldn’t have been so clueless now. 

it wasn’t a date. you know it wasn’t. and you keep repeating it to yourself. 

maybe jungwon notices your stiffness, because he compliments your outfit. 

“you look really nice.”

“thanks,” you smile, “so do you.” 

“i didn’t know what places were good in this area, but i liked this cafe so i thought it would be a good place for us to talk!” 

you’ve always admired jungwon’s thoughtfulness. or rather, been jealous. there was only one other person who could compete with him on that: nishimura riki. 

again, time passes you as you spend the night with him. it’s quite dark out when you realize you should get going. 

jungwon being ever the gentleman offers to walk you home. he also lends you his jacket, which you have no choice but to accept both his offers. it would end on an awkward note if you rejected him—which you didn’t want—so you decide to bear with it just this once. 

jungwon was simply a cool and fun person to hang out with anyway, so you had no complaints. you trusted him naturally. 

it was all fine until you reached the outside of your apartment. 

you certainly weren’t expecting to see riki waiting outside your door, looking visibly and obviously upset. your feet come to a halt.

you completely forgot. 

jungwon grabs your arm suddenly. “is that niki?” 

you see the expression on riki’s face visibly change, and you rush to explain yourself. 

“riki, please let me-“ 

ignoring jungwon, the coldness emanating from riki physically makes you shiver. 

“we need to talk.” 

you bite your lip. 

“jungwon, i… think you should go.” 

he complies when you ask once more, but not without a concerned request to contact him later. 

even with jungwon gone, riki still looks like he’s about to get attacked, threatened and rigid. 

you call out his name quietly, “can we at least go inside first?” 

you reach for his hand but he pulls away before heading in. fair, you think. 

“-i’m sorry i didn’t tell you earlier, but it was a sudden decision.”

“i still don’t get why you didn’t tell me,” he snaps. 

you don’t like the way this is heading. and you both know where it was going to go. “it was just one small hangout, we were only catching up,” you frown. 

“but you know how i feel about him! you should have told me-“

you feel your anger rise as well as you get to your feet. 

“do i have an obligation to tell you? why is a fight that happened over ten years ago still such a big deal? what’s your issue with jungwon?”

you cross your arms, facing an agitated riki. 

“nevermind that. why can’t you just tell me what happened back then?!” 

the silence, accompanied by the sound of your mixed heavy breaths, leave you weary. you pinch the space between your eyebrows. 

“riki-“ you reach out for him but he pulls away. he’s doing it once again. 

it hurts more than you thought. “fine. if you’re not going to say anything, then i think you should just leave.” 

and you don’t object when he listens to your suggestion, without a second glance back. 

it felt like deja vu, seeing him leave just as he did before. 

it’s been days since you last talked to riki, let alone spared a glance in his direction. work was awkward enough, just like it had been the first week you came.

how could your relationship turn back to strangers so suddenly? did riki not care? 

if anything, he cared too much—but you would have never known. 

it’s hard to work next to him, be near him without the unspoken feelings rising up. a hand brushing his when he passed you papers almost felt like it was burning you. riki noticed how you would flinch away, every time. 

it didn’t matter. your internship was coming to an end, and you were already preparing yourself to leave. 

maybe this was just a sign from the universe telling you that you and riki were meant to be apart. that you weren’t meant to be together after all. 

you loved the area, company, office environment and just about everything else. it should’ve been perfect. 

but you don’t know if you can stand working here, staying here and living here, 

knowing that riki is right around the corner, carrying your heart without a second thought. 

the power that he holds, the fact that he’s able to break your heart in the matter of seconds or make you smile like the happiest person in the world, it’s just too scary for you to handle. 

you’re already planning to head back home and stay with your parents for a little until you get things figured out again. 

you still had tickets to a small festival at the nearby plaza that you planned to go with riki, but that certainly wasn’t happening anymore. 

you didn’t want the second ticket to go to waste, so in your lostness and desperation (and several rejections by coworkers), you asked jungwon. you were leaving soon and didn’t know when the next time you would see him was. 

you greet him with a halfhearted smile, and he gestures for you guys to get closer to the stage to get a better view. but there’s a big crowd, and you stumble over an arm or leg or something. 

for some reason, you expect him to be there and help you up. like someone else did in a strangely familiar situation. 

but there’s no one. nothing except the crowd of bodies that’s starting to get a little too overwhelming. 

for the first time, you wish to the universe for one thing. you wish you had riki again, with you by your side. 

it’s then you realize you’ve been thinking about him the whole time. he who’s been the one always to pick you back up. he was always there for you. 

you know, you need to do something before you leave. you can’t handle leaving things like this. 

you plan to, however, the next day is the last day of your internship and some of the kind workers surprised the interns with a small going away party. it’s bittersweet, especially when everyone assumes you’re getting hired for an official position due to your exceptional work, and another person. 

you were grateful for everyone who planned and showed up. but there was one person who didn’t that you kept looking for. everyone knows who, but no one knows why. 

at the end of the day, you make your way back to riki’s office in order to pack up your stuff. 

you take one last glance around the room and all of its memories. leaving this place felt like leaving riki behind as well. 

you were grateful that you got the chance to see him once more. you were beginning to accept that this was the end. 

putting all your stuff in boxes, you frown while wondering where your compartment desk key was. maybe riki mistakenly took yours instead of his?

you open various drawers, rummaging around. but when you get to the bottommost drawer, your heart stops. 

it’s only a plain cream folder, but what’s written on it takes your breath away. 

just your name. 

photos and photos of you, beautifully crafted and arranged together. it’s riki’s work, you know that for sure. memories spanning your entire internship—from the first day to the last time you talked to him. 

you don’t know when and how he took these photos. or when tears fell down your cheeks. 

you hastily rub the wetness away, sniffling as you close the folder and continue your search. now wasn’t the time to get sentimental. 

it would be alright, because you planned on finding riki the next day before you left. it was too late today, and you needed to finish packing. you just wanted one last chance to say everything you wanted to before going. 

you have to because you feel it deep within, tugging at your heartstrings. 

it’s about 1am when you finish packing. you don’t even want to think about the time you need to get up, nor the fact that you still had to find a way to see riki. 

you zip up the last luggage when the doorbell rings. who in the world would be at your door this late? you consider grabbing some sort of weapon, but decide against it for the time being. 

you nervously peek through the peephole, before throwing the door open. 

“r-riki?”

you’re more shocked that he was crying than him even showing up at your place. 

riki almost lunges forward, trapping you in his arms. he hiccups and you feel a pang in your chest. 

“y/n- please- just please, will you forgive me?”

“what?” you breathe out. you couldn’t even process the situation. 

“please. never leave me.”

“what? why would i ever?” you comfortingly bring a hand to rub his back. it takes a little bit to soothe him, and he speaks again when you feel his erratic breathing has calmed and his body relaxes. 

“i’m so scared to lose you again,” he whispers shakily. you soften, pulling back to see his red eyes and nose. 

“riki, please tell me what’s going on.” he knows immediately what you mean. 

you reach up to wipe the corners of his eyes and the side of his face gently. he closes his eyes at the feeling, to go back into time. 

honestly, he remembers that day as if it was just yesterday. it was a day that haunted him up until now. 

riki always knew then. maybe you weren’t aware but he definitely was.  

yang jungwon liked you. it was obvious. 

riki could see it—physically too. that cursed red string mocked him everyday he saw you two in class. 

riki knew jungwon could feel it too. you were too close to riki and everyone knew that. jungwon knew, and he didn’t care. 

it was raining, as riki recalled many times over and over again. he was alone while waiting for you to finish class. riki was alone until jungwon and his group of friends approached him. 

jungwon knew about his power. he said his father worked for the government, worked with riki. riki suddenly thought of one of the head scientists and his eyes, strikingly similar to jungwon’s. 

so that was his father, he remembers thinking. 

riki never liked him.

regardless, jungwon asked if riki could see your string. just like the others. riki chooses not to answer as always, but jungwon naturally got on his nerves. 

riki remembers the exact words. 

“if you two aren’t dating, does that mean you aren’t soulmates? you would’ve asked y/n out already if you were, am i right?” 

at that, riki’s blood began to boil. but he couldn’t do anything. mainly because jungwon was right. and it infuriated riki. 

jungwon laughed. “then… i can ask y/n out? since you guys aren’t soulmates?”

riki doesn’t remember the next part. maybe he blacked out or chose to erase it from his memory. but apparently, he punched jungwon. he snapped for the first time. 

riki opens his eyes again slowly, seeing your heartfelt gaze on him and him only. 

he almost doesn’t recognize his own voice when he speaks. it sounded too quiet. too defeated. like he was already accepting his loss. 

”you’re jungwon’s soulmate. not mine.”

he glances down at your pinky. it had been a while since he saw your red string, let alone anyone else’s. 

“no matter how much i wished your red string was connected to mine, it wasn’t.” 

at some point, riki assumed his string had no other person it was attached to, because he had never met anyone who made him feel like how you did. no one else made him as happy, as sad, or as loved as you did. 

riki knew if he had a soulmate, it would have been you and only you. 

“i-i was upset when you saw jungwon again that you would fall in love with him. and leave me.”

it was a lot to process. you know and he knows. it wasn’t what you were expecting, but you were fine with that. 

when you call out his name, your hands reach to the sides of his face to guide them to look at you. you take a deep breath. 

“i’ve always loved you.”

and exhale. 

“jungwon was never on my mind, only you’ve been. even after all this time-” 

abruptly, riki reached forward to kiss you harshly and you instantly reciprocate it. your hands tighten around his neck while his come to wrap around your waist, naturally. 

you just can’t seem to let each other go. 

you ask jungwon to meet up with one last time before he leaves, at the same cafe he suggested last time. 

you comment on the nice weather and he agrees. you fiddle with your fingers. 

“this is a bit random, but do you believe in soulmates?” 

jungwon looks confused but he says, “yeah. from what i’ve heard, i think so?” 

your eyes narrow. “even if two people are soulmates, do you think they can love different people?” 

“y/n, where is this-“

“answer the question and i’ll explain. i promise.” 

he scratches his head, “i… i suppose so?” 

“and if two people aren’t soulmates, do you think that they can love each other?” you continue. 

“sure. but i don’t get why you’re asking-“

ignoring him, you nod thoughtfully. “okay.”

he opens his mouth to respond, but you hold up a hand. 

“i just wanted to say it was nice seeing you again.” 

he looks a bit surprised. 

“me too. i enjoyed the time we spent together. i know that i’m leaving soon and this is a bit sudden, but do you want to see each other again-?”

you sigh, looking out the window again. 

“i’m sorry, but i don’t think that’s possible. i hope the rest of your life goes well as you want it to, yang jungwon.”

he nods solemnly. “it’s because you’re with niki, right?” he smiles at your shocked expression. “i figured since he was outside your place. no harm in shooting my shot. but wow, you guys really found each other again.”

you don’t know what to say so you just nod. 

“tell him that i’m sorry for what i said in the past and that i wish him the best too.” he gets up from his chair, prompting you too as well. 

“we can still be friends, of course,” you rush to add. 

jungwon laughs, “it’s alright. i should get over you first before considering a friendship.” 

“maybe in another life. we get along too well,” you joke. he laughs too and you know it’s not forced. 

“come on, i’ll walk you home.” 

you stare at jungwon’s side profile during the walk, as he speaks about random topics and leads the way back. 

it’s strange, imagining him as your soulmate. it was weird imagining a life with anyone else but riki. although yang jungwon may be your soulmate, he’s not the one that you want. that’s okay. 

when he drops you off, riki opens the door. you’re hesitant, but you see the two give a final nod to each other. jungwon leaves without a glance back, and riki closes the door. 

“how was it?” 

you lean in to peck his lips. “good. better than i expected, to be honest. now can we start the movie? i was waiting for this all day.” 

riki smiles as you take off your shoes and get ready for a night in with him. he glances at your matching gold chain bracelets that he bought recently, a promise for the future. just as riki wanted. 

riki doesn’t know what’s going to happen in the future. all he knows is that he’ll be with you forever, red string or not. 

that night, he realized he couldn’t give up on you. not again. he would fight like he did before and choose his own destiny. 

because the only destiny he had was one with you. 

nishimura riki couldn’t see the end of his string. he probably never would. and he didn’t want to. it didn’t matter, after all. now, he looks back at your hands and imagines a perfect little knot in the middle connecting both your red strings. 

and he smiles. 

hi it’s jae again—thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed it as i put a lot of work and effort into it (my longest one shot so far skxnksdnj so pls excuse mistakes/typos if i missed some) actually it hurt to write won as the “bad guy” but i couldn’t think of anyone else close enough to fit the role lol. anyways that’s all, just wanted to say that i’m thankful for all the love, comments, rbs, and support i receive as it keeps me going to write more. i truly do appreciate all 1.2k and more followers, see you guys again in the next works coming soon ;)

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[aurumalatus]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 [𝟏]

pairing. albedo x reader, xiao x reader, thoma x reader

word count. 1.9k

genre/warnings. prompt-based drabbles, royal!au, college!au, just some nice romance hehe

𝟏. 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝟏𝐚𝐦

“Your Highness, it’s rare to see you awake at this hour.”

Albedo bows hurriedly when you swing the heavy wooden door open, and you wave a dismissive hand; you’d told him to stop bowing to you years ago, and he still couldn’t cut the habit. Archons know it’ll be longer before he can stop calling you by a royal title.

“I had some trouble sleeping. I hope you don’t mind if I accompany you for a bit, Albedo.”

He shakes his head, gesturing to the spread of notebooks, test tubes, and various gadgets on the table, as if any of it would mean something to you. “I was just doing a bit of light experimentation. Nothing dangerous, so you’re welcome to stay.”

You pull up a stool at his side, one that he’d placed there specifically for your presence—it’s rare that anyone else visits him down here, after all. Since you were a child, you’d always had a fascination with this room, the royal lab, and it happened to be the place Albedo usually inhabited as the former royal alchemist’s pupil. You’d become fast friends.

The silence is comfortable for a few minutes. Albedo tinkers with a few things, takes some notes, and you simply watch. Crickets chirp outside the darkened windows. It’s how it’s always been.

Your eyes fall on a small burn mark on the wall that’s clumsily covered in paint. “Do you remember when we made that?” you ask, pointing out the blemish. Albedo looks up in surprise; you’re usually not one to converse when you keep him company. “I thought mixing a few chemicals couldn’t go too wrong. That was quite a mess to clean up.”

It was a common pattern when you were younger—you would make the mess, and Albedo would fix it. He was always smarter and a bit more mature than you, and as you grew up together, it remained that way.

“You were quite the troublemaker,” he says, a nostalgic smile tugging at his lips, “I was shocked that someone so hot-headed could ever hope to lead the kingdom.”

“What do you think of me, Albedo?”

It’s so abrupt that the question catches him off guard, hand slipping and drawing an ugly line through his notes. He struggles to control his breath. What does he think of you? It’s surely not his place to tell the truth in that regard; he’s lucky your parents had even allowed the two of you to be friends, much less what he actually wants. He gulps down the lump in his throat, trying to appear unfazed.

“If you’re asking me as a royal, then I would say that it’s been an honor to serve as an alchemist under your name. I look forward to doing more work to advance this kingdom, and I know you have a bright future as our ruler.”

A completely textbook answer.

He looks away too fast to be natural, hands already busying themselves with something else to prevent himself from saying too much. It seems you’ve hit a nerve, but that was also your intention all along.

Rising from your seat, you approach his side hesitantly, sliding your fingers over the pile of notebooks on the table—endless knowledge, most of which you likely wouldn’t understand. Albedo has always been a culmination of things you don’t understand, but you want to.

The truth is, you can’t imagine yourself loving anyone except him.

“And if I wasn’t asking as a royal?” He flinches, clearly not expecting you to continue this line of questioning. “If I asked you as me and me alone, how would you answer?”

Albedo turns to you, then, eyes dimming in the low light of the lab. He looks vulnerable, though he fights to keep his expression even. His voice is barely audible, a breathless whisper for your ears alone.

“If you were asking me as you and you alone,” he repeats, inhaling deeply for courage, “I’d say I’ve learned that sometimes, the discovery only leads to more questions.”

His gaze flickers down to your lips for a moment, then shoots back up to your eyes. The room suddenly feels much warmer than before. “And there are many more things I’d like to find out about you, if you’d allow me.”

𝟐. 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡

You don’t know how you ended up this way. Well, you do, but you aren’t sure why it ended up this way.

College parties, as far as you’re aware, are supposed to be red solo cups and loud music, waking up the next day with hangovers and 8am classes. They’d been right about the red solo cups, but having one in Xiangling’s hands meant trouble.

“Let’s play Seven Minutes in Heaven,” she had slurred, a lazy smile on her lips as she stumbled around the room. You groaned as you caught her by the arm, just before she crashed into the vase in the corner.

“Xiangling, we’re in college, not high school. And I don’t think you’re in any condition to be doing anything except sleeping.”

Of course, there was no saying no to Xiangling about anything, which is how you ended up stuffed in a closet with Xiao.

It’s painfully awkward at first, dead silence with your limbs tangled together in the small space. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you, out of fear of saying something stupid.

The truth is, you’ve had a crush on Xiao for a very long time now. It had started when he tutored you in your freshman year chemistry class, and since you had a mutual friend group, you began to see him a lot more often. He was kinder than he let on, albeit a bit rough around the edges, but you liked that about him—at least, you thought you did.

Sometime a few months ago, something had changed. He stopped entertaining your conversations, stopped answering your texts, just stopped. You’d been struggling to move on since then, since it was painfully obvious that your feelings were not returned.

“Are you drunk?” you ask shyly, just trying to fill the silence. He chuckles humorlessly.

“Not even a little. I wish I was, maybe I could get the image of Zhongli dancing out of my head.”

You laugh in response, slowly tapering off when he says nothing. It makes you feel a bit guilty that he got stuck in here with you.

“Xiao, listen, I’m sorry that it was my name you picked,” you say, leaning forward a bit, “I just—”

“Just don’t move,” he hisses through his teeth, jaw grinding with impatience. You frown in the darkness.

“Listen, if you didn’t want to do this, you didn’t have to play the stupid game. I think we’re all old enough that we can speak for ourselves—”

“That’s not it.”

“Wow, it’d be really cool if you’d let me finish my sente—”

“I just didn’t want you doing this with anyone else. I think I’d rather die than see someone like Childe disappear into this stupid closet with you.”

“I just think it’s a little ru—wait, what?”

Xiao sighs, seemingly a bit frustrated with himself. He understands that you’re unhappy with him, but he can’t find the words to say. Coming to terms with his feelings for you had been difficult, and since then, he’s been avoiding admitting to them. After all, what could someone like you see in someone like him?

“I’m sorry,” he says to start. That’s the one thing he’s sure about. “I know I’ve been rude lately. That’s my fault.”

“Well, yeah,” you grumble, and he fights the urge to roll his eyes, but continues anyway.

“I know everything I’ve done says otherwise, but…I like you. I have for a while, maybe since I met you.” He grits his teeth, feeling totally uncomfortable and out of his element. Some things are necessary though, he reasons, and you’re definitely worth it. “So I’m sorry for being an ass. Please don’t hate me. If you hate me, then just tell me, because then I’ll—”

The sound of Xiangling’s voice echoes from outside. “Ten seconds left, lovebirds!”

Xiao sighs. He’s out of time.

There’s a lot of things he could say, should say, but he settles for this: 

“If you hate me, then just tell me,” he repeats, searching for your eyes in the darkness. He finds them for a moment, wide and soft. “Because then I’ll do everything I can to make it up to you.”

The door swings open.

𝟑. 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲

Thoma takes a deep breath as he waits on the busy street, the townspeople chattering in excitement about the upcoming festival. The Commission had done endless work to organize this, he knows, and that should be an object of his anxiety as well, but all he can think about is you.

Being a fixer, he’s never been a stranger to social interaction. He probably speaks to hundreds of people, and it’s all in a day’s work. Of course, hundreds of people don’t make his heart race and palms sweat whenever he sees them, that’s a feature unique only to you.

Even asking you to accompany him to the festival had been quite an ordeal. Ayaka commented that she had never seen him so shaken in her life, and she was probably right; he’d rehearsed the conversation by himself for days. You’d accepted without complaint, kind as you are, but now comes the real issue: actually going to the festival with you.

Still, you look so excited when you wave to him from the end of the street that he can’t help but smile as well. His nervousness dissipates as soon as you’re right in front of him—you’re too bright to focus on anything else.

“Where to first? I hope you have a good tour for me,” you say teasingly, taking him by the arm. He chuckles.

“Don’t worry, I know all the best places.”

The two of you enjoy the festival together. A few people stop Thoma for a short conversation, a knowing twinkle in their eyes when they see you by his side. It’s no secret that he’s quite fond of you, though you don’t seem to notice. He’s okay with that for now; it’d been hard enough to ask you here, much less to ask you to be his.

As you pass the merchant booths, a bracelet of Sango Pearls catches your eye, and Thoma doesn’t hesitate to purchase it for you. You thank him endlessly, sliding it over your wrist, but his face morphs into confusion when you ask the merchant for another one. He knows fashion quite well, and he’s aware that stacking bracelets is indeed a thing, but wouldn’t it do you better to stack different—

His breath hitches when you grasp his hand, soft skin sliding against his, the newly purchased bracelet settling against his wrist.

Oh.

“Beautiful,” you remark, smiling softly, pearls reflecting in your eyes. His heart jumps, but he masks it with a chuckle, scratching the back of his neck.

“We should go,” he says, trying to draw attention away from the blush on his cheeks. “I know a good spot to watch the fireworks show.”

It’s the perfect end to the night. Naganohara Fireworks never fails to impress; Thoma makes a mental note to thank Yoimiya later. You seem to enjoy it too, lips parted slightly in awe, hands clutched tightly to your chest. The fireworks are as stunning as they are loud; pops and crackles of light boom across the night sky, a wonder for your eyes to witness.

Thoma thinks the Shogun might be right about eternity; he wishes this moment would never end.

“You’re beautiful, too,” he whispers.

[ghostbsuter]

Team effort

Danny is a member of the Teen Titans!

.・゜-: ✧ :-

The team had noticed something off not soon after the raid.

Something about one of Danny's– Magpie's– old Rogues having a lab. Some investigations from Robin and Cyborg soon proved that the man had been working on human experimentation.

Not even a day later and they'd raided the place, putting it under the JL's radar alongside the wayward rogue too.

Beastboy noticed it first, the way Magpie would look around uncertain, less enthusiastic and fidgeting in his seat.

Robin tried to shield him, take the attention away and talk behind closed doors with the other afterwards.

Yeah, it didn't take a genius to figure out something was wrong.

They waved the issue off, maybe it was temporary? Danny never got distracted, it should be short right? They didn't need to worry too much.

Besides Robin was already on it.

The alarms went off however when Danny announced a break, going under for a few weeks, months maybe.

Starfire pestered him with worry, tugging him along in the air. She's speaking her native language, something about healing? They would have noticed if Magpie hid a injury however.

The protests didn't budge the decision, Robin steady when they turned to him for help.

Reassurances came in a rush. If truly needed, Danny would aid them, but he could not stay.

Raven stayed quiet, nothing unusual but surprising. Robin and her were often seen speaking in hushed whispers, it drove the other 3 members crazy at the secrecy.

It took 2 months to finally see what the cause was.

—

Costume dishevelled, mask thrown to the side, Magpie enters the tower by foot. His unannounced appearance had them all unprepared.

Raven and Robin were by his sides first, closely followed by Statfire.

"Hey man," Cyborg greeted, brow knitted in concern. "Weren't you supposed to be on vacation?"

Danny gave a dry laugh at that. "Plans changed, Cy."

"How do vacation plans just change?" Beastboy asks, scratching the side of his head.

"They changed because I wasn't really on vacation."

He avoids their eyes, Starfire dint like that, cradling his head to turn to her. "Why aren't you looking at us? Why lie about vacation?"

"It's not that I wanted to lie, staying ignorant to what was happening was just better," he shrugged with a strained smile.

"I'm assuming your location was compromised?"

A nod.

"Wow wow wow," beastboy interrupts. "What do you mean compromise? You went into hiding??"

Magpie gave a sheepish laugh, which didn't lighten the mood at all.

He tried.

"Where is—?" Raven asks right as another tiny hand clamps on her cape, tugging.

The eyes of every teentitan are drawn to whatever— whoever is behind their missing member.

"Okay so don't freak out—"

"You have a child??!"

"What the hell— JESUS CHRIST!"

"A human child! A baby!"

A sharp whistling from their leader got them to shut up, eyes on Robin now.

"You're frightening her."

True to his words, tuffs of white hair peek out between Raven and Magpie, large green eyes watching.

A tiny girl, barely reaching Danny's waist, stares at them.

"Friend, who is she?"

"This," he leads her out by hand, letting her cling to his side instead now. "Is elle, she..."

A look to raven had her continue. "We found her together in the raid."

Starfire knelt down before Elle, holding her hand out in greeting. "Hello Elle, I am starfire." She tilts her head. "You seem sleepy?"

"It's been a long day— I'll talk with you guys later, okay?"

They watched him leave, returning to his room long untouched.

[originalaccountname]

I made some funny comics a little while ago about the potential effects of Fukuzawa's ability on Chuuya's, and how it perhaps could make it revert to a pre-Arahabaki state.

I realized later that some of you lack the context for where that came from, and that I might be creating confusion, so this is a (hopefully) comprehensive walkthrough of things we learned in Storm Bringer that lead to this conclusion.

tldr; The lab created "Arahabaki" by manipulating an ability into a destructive force. That ability existed before the lab, and the nature of that ability is heavily implied to be the power to enhance other abilities through touch.

Explanation and sources below (so you can judge yourself) ⬇

- spoiler warning for Storm Bringer, hopefully written in a way that you'd understand even if you haven't read it yet -

In Storm Bringer, Chuuya meets the scientist that was responsible for Project Arahabaki, Professor N.

Project Arahabaki, N explains, was the Japanese government's secret project to create an ability singularity they could have control over and freely use as a weapon.

What are singularities? Singularities are what happens when abilities clash in specific ways and create a new, unforeseen reaction. The easiest way to create a singularity is to pit two contradictory abilities against each other to create a paradox; examples included the ability to always deceive and the ability to always perceive the truth, and to have two ability users who can see into the future (*coughs* Oda and Gide) try to one-up each other. The result is usually much more powerful than the original abilities on their own.

Some singularities are said to have been explained as god-like interventions, because of their often destructive nature. This is what inspired the name "Arahabaki", after the mythical being (here's a post of the subject and I'll it link at the end too) These events are described as very rare.

Like mentioned in that passage, there is another way to create a singularity: to have a single ability user use their ability in a way that contradicts itself. This is what the lab was trying to do.

For that explanation, Professor N gives an example. He first shows a video of a child, whose face is hidden from the camera, holding a coin (described as having a certain melancoly to it), with a moon and a fox engraved on it. The video is from one of the lab's tests. The child is made to recite some activation lines, which are directly taken from one of Nakahara Chuuya's poems, Upon the Tainted Sorrow (which does mentions a fox, as a fun fact).

The coin then starts glowing, the glow turns into a black mass, and from there the experimentation goes bad: the coin starts attracting things and absorbing them, the space gets distorted, the child's vitals flatline, panic spreads and someone calls for an emergency stop, we hear a scream. The video ends.

N explains that the child in the video had the ability to enhance the ability of others. That child then used that ability on themselves, effectively enhancing the enhancement which enhanced the enhancing, in an infinite loop. That loop created a lot of energy; the surplus of energy was so intense its mass deformed space (physics!) and it created a black hole.

Here's where it gets tricky: N claims that child died during that accident, that the child was absorbed by the black hole created by their ability. We never actually learn their identity.

But N is a lying liar who lies; he said about one and a half truths the entire book. The only reason he was telling them any of this was that he thought he'd get rid of all of them within the next few minutes. His objective was always to regain control over Chuuya, his pet project.

Plus, during the epilogue, we learn that Chuuya was assumed to have died during the war. That's what his parents think. That's what is officially recorded.

Furthermore.

Project Arahabaki was based off French research papers; someone else had done this kind of experimentation before, and their result was Verlaine.

-

Verlaine's gravity-manipulation is a singularity. Better yet: Verlaine also has a Corruption state, named Brutalization. Their abilities are the same, because the lab copied the techniques that were used to create Verlaine when they worked on Chuuya.

Here's a passage of Dazai nullifying Corruption, at the very end of SB:

"The self-contradicting skill, which was supporting the energy of a singularity". This passage confirms that the source of Chuuya's ability is, in fact, like the child's and Verlaine's, if any doubts remained. "[...] weakening the singularity's output. It wasn't long before it returned to its normal state, and the Gate closed." The Gate refers to releasing Arahabaki, it's basically a limiter, just like the passage above when talking about Brutalization. When Dazai nullifies Corruption, he gives that limiter the opportunity to come back and seal Chuuya's power away again, but does not stop the singularity, only allows it to go back to its stable state.

From all that, we can say that Chuuya's ability wasn't always gravity manipulation, but that it was another, unconfirmed ability that was exploited in such a way that it became a permanent, stable singularity that allowed him to have control over gravity.

-

Bullet point recap:

Chuuya's gravity manipulation comes from a singularity, like Verlaine, like that child;

You need a self-referencing/self-contradicting ability to create that singularity;

Such an event is rare;

There is a substantial amount of time spent describing a "random" child that was experimented on during the war;

That child created a black hole through their singularity;

That singularity was activated using a passage from Nakahara Chuuya's poems, while holding a coin that references it;

That child supposedly died;

Chuuya's parents think he died during the war;

N is a pathological liar with an agenda.

So no, there is no "confirmation" that Chuuya's ability was ability enhancement before the lab took him. But an author writes a story with an intent, so I am asking what Asagiri's intent was when writing all this, and if perhaps we weren't indirectly given the answer already.

-

What is Arahabaki (Fifteen and Storm Bringer lore, with too many citations)

My own perceived timeline of the true events behind Storm Bringer (was originally gonna be part of this part, also with too many citations)

[musings-of-miss-j]

no rest for the wicked (nor the foolish)

part eight: in which you're forcibly removed from your comfort zone by none other than the resident ginger, and you meet a certain someone's alter ego(s)

a harbingers x gn reader series!! (includes dottore, childe, arlecchino and pantalone x reader. the rest of the harbingers will not be romantic interests)

notes: surprise surprise, the burn is still slow!! mentions of blood, gn reader with a dosage of snark that probably exceeds the recommended value

series masterlist

author's notes: *daddy's home plays faintly in the background, slowly but surely increasing in volume as i approach you on a hoverboard with a comically large witch's hat on my head and a ridiculous pair of sunglasses on*

word count: 4725

*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚**  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚**  ੈ✩‧₊˚*

It was, by all accounts, supposed to have been a completely normal lab session. You were planning the reaction route you’d take to test the enzyme you’d synthesised and the various ways to ensure its effectivity other than the rate of the reaction and the yield as you waltzed through the door (the inscriptions were glowing a pretty purple-pink hue reminiscent of sakura blooms that day). The redox apparatus from two days prior was sitting exactly where you’d left it, nothing out of the ordinary there. The abnormality came in the form of a segment currently in the process of detaching the round-bottomed flask where your product had accumulated from the condenser; the first thought to register was the sheer audacity for anyone to even contemplate touching your experiments, while the second, this is my chance to study the constitution of these ‘segments’ up close, wasn’t far behind. Glancing up sharply, your flask still clutched in his un-gloved hand, (a voice in your head shrilly protested his lack of adherence to safety procedures) the segment began moving away, no doubt to disappear to wherever him and the rest usually stayed. With more agility than you thought you possessed, you rounded the workbench and grabbed him by his sleeve.

“You. What are you doing with my condensate?” You demanded, grabbing the flask from between his fingers and setting it down on a stand. Now that the imminent danger of your work going to waste was neutralised, you took the time to analyse this segment of your supervisor’s while you had him cornered. This version of Dottore was at least five years younger than the one you were familiar with, probably from his late Akademiya years. And he wore no mask, leaving two brilliant scarlet eyes on full display, rimmed with pale blue lashes and dark shadows beneath them. The segment coughed and fidgeted, trying to find a way to escape your clutches.

“Hold still,” you ordered, reaching up to touch his face. You were startled by the smoothness of the skin, having expected something cold and metallic. How in Teyvat did he pull this off? You tilted the segment’s face this way and that, looking for hidden wiring or steel plating or anything else that would belie machinery, yet you found nothing. You gave his cheeks an experimental squeeze, and were further surprised when your fingers dug into what seemed to be soft skin, then dropped your hands, stumped.

“Huh. You look very human.”

“Prime did tell me that was the intention,” the segment agreed, flushed in the face and still trying to discreetly push past you.

Even his voice didn’t sound robotic in the slightest, riddled with natural dips of tone and perfect inflection for the context. Your eyes took in every detail, every movement, still failing to spot anything that would’ve given him away as a machine.

“Incredible. Did he give you a name?”

“No. Prime wouldn’t waste a second thinking about something so inconsequential.”

If you weren’t mistaken, the segment sounded almost bitter, staring blankly down at the wall with those striking eyes. You felt a twinge of pity; being a clone for Dottore was probably a thankless task. “Would you like one?” You offered, not unkindly. “If your system permits that sort of input, of course.”

“I- I have no use for such things.” It was strange to think that your Doctor, impenetrable and unmoving as he was, had been capable of stuttering to the point where he himself recalled and implemented the trait.

“How about Theta? I’ll need to distinguish between you lot somehow.”

 “It’s of no difference to me,” the segment- Theta- mumbled, before shooting you one last look, then disappearing in the split second it took to turn your head in his direction. You wondered where he’d gone, and why he was so wary of you.

Oddly enough, you didn’t see the Doctor for the entire morning and well into the afternoon. It was far from ordinary for him not to be in the lab the moment you arrived, (you suspected he slept there, if he even slept at all) muttering under his breath as he worked and occasionally ordering you to hand him the wrench or scalpel or graduated pipette in a tone so entitled it tempted you to bash him in the head with the very equipment you handed him. Still, you couldn’t deny his usefulness. Having two pairs of hands was always easier than one, especially when the other pair was as experienced as they came; you could bounce any question off him and receive a convincing answer, even if he could never resist throwing in a mocking remark about ‘how shameful it must feel to have such a rudimentary fact slip your mind.’

However, you had much better uses of your time than fretting over the location of your boss, such as extracting a sample of noradrenaline from the brain of a body so fresh you half expected the eyes to open in the midst of your operation. Even after such a time-consuming procedure, the Doctor had yet to make an appearance. You wrote it off, assuming he wouldn’t be present that day, and ate all the fruit tarts you’d brought while boring holes into your notebook with your eyes and trying to determine what exactly had gone so wrong amidst your calculations that the percentage error was at an unforgivable fifty seven percent.

“One hundred cubic centimetres of sulphuric acid sounds unreasonable,” a voice from over your shoulder remarked. You blinked, refocusing on the sheet of paper. A whispered curse slipped past your lips as you registered where you’d went wrong; the decimal point of the volume of acid was indeed one too many zeroes to the right. You twisted to see who’d given you the hint.

It would’ve been incredibly easy to mistaken this segment for Dottore himself,  but he lacked the jagged scar spanning from above the mask to his chin and cutting right through the corner of his lip. This segment’s face also wasn’t as harrowed, unlike Dottore’s hollowed cheeks and deathly pale complexion. You probably would’ve missed the difference yourself, if you weren’t so accustomed to the tiny details of the Doctor’s countenance. The segment grinned lazily.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?”

Oh, for the love of-

You shoved him away with a roll of your eyes. Not quite as Dottore-like as his appearance suggested, then.

“You segments are rather friendly today. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Since Prime isn’t here to hassle us about disturbing you, we thought we might as well make use of the main lab.”

A frown formed between your brows as you mulled over his response, absent-mindedly scratching out the mistakes in your calculations.

 “Main lab? There’s others? And why would the Doctor forbid you from utilising it on my account?”

The segment leaned over, resting his elbow on the workbench and his cheek in his hand as he watched you. “What do you mean why”- a delighted expression crossed his face, and his resounding cackle made you look up apprehensively from your notes. “Oh, what a scream. You mean you don’t know?”

The notion of ‘not knowing’ made the scholar in you bristle. “Don’t know what?” You snapped, crossing your arms and turning to subject him to the full force of your glare.

“You’ll find out soon enough, lovey,” he replied with another laugh. You scowled.

Patronising piece of-

“I heard you even gave one of us a name,” he said, interrupting your furious train of thought. “I didn’t think you were so besotted.”

You clicked your tongue dismissively, waving him off. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s counterproductive not to know the names of one’s assistants.”

It was the segment’s turn to bluster. “I am no one’s assistant!”

“Mhm. Be a dear, Gamma, and pass me the dichloromethane so I can make some aspirin for the inevitable headache you lot are going to give me.”

Muttering and grumbling and secretly preening over his namesake being a highly dangerous electromagnetic wave, he slid you the bottle and even a measuring cylinder and pipette to boot. You rewarded his extra efforts with a small smile, and Gamma suddenly understood every nonsensical thought that Prime had experienced since you arrived in Snezhnaya.

Throughout the day, more and more of the segments appeared from Archons-know-where and took to hovering around you while you go about your business, or chattering and doing a fine job of distracting you from whatever you were reading, or even rushing to assist you. You didn’t complain; it was fascinating seeing these different facets of the Doctor. Most of the older segments are rather similar to him, although Gamma had a rather prominent flirtatious streak, while another you’d named Omega was more snappish and impulsive. The younger ones were unfailingly comical; Theta was so easily flustered and a little more apprehensive about explosive compounds than the rest, and Pi, whose name referenced the pastry that was such a direct contradiction to his character, was rude, arrogant and reckless.

(“Since you’re such a bitter pill to swallow, I’ll call you Pi.” You grinned at your own joke. “No other aspect of you is remotely close to sweet, after all.”

Pi scowled animatedly, shattering the beaker in his hands from how hard he’d gripped it. “I won’t answer to a name given by a simpleton.”)

“Pi, clean the mess you made in the fume cupboard! Some of us have organic lungs that can’t handle toxic fumes, you know!”

“I don’t see how that’s my problem,” he snapped back, then slunk off to do as you’d told him when you weren’t looking.

The youngest of the segments, who barely reached your waist and had yet to even speak in your presence, had taken to trotting after you wherever in the lab you went, weaving between your legs and staring up at you with wide eyes half-hidden by a mop of messy blue hair. You’d come immensely close to tripping more than once, but you couldn’t bring yourself to scold him at all, instead nudging him out of the way like a cat sitting in the middle of the hallway. The segments were helpful enough, even if you’d been talked back at more times that day than your entire career as a lab technician in the Akademiya supervising young recruits, and by the time you were contemplating the prospect of heading to the dining hall for a bite to eat everything was in order; reagents alphabetically stored in their cabinets, counters wiped and glassware washed, even the enormous, curved windows were polished to a high shine. You spared them an approving look as you walked past, arms laden with bottles of (carefully separated) acidic and basic waste, admiring the aerial view of the snowy forest below, draped over the mountainside like a shaken-out blanket. The young segment was still tailing you, a lollipop you’d fished out from one of your pockets in his mouth; his utter disregard for where he was stepping had put you on your last nerve, but every time you sat him down in a safe corner he’d stare dolefully up at you before reappearing in your peripheral vision a few moments later. It was a wonder you hadn’t lost your temper, really.

“Epsilon, I can see your reflection in the window,” you pointed out in an unimpressed tone to the segment who’d been on the verge of grabbing your shoulders in an attempt to startle you. He huffed and grumbled, shaking the hair out of his eyes and cheekily tipping the neck of one of the bottles you were carrying as though to let the acid milkshake within, so to speak, spill, then pranced away from your scathing glare with a merry tune on his lips. You didn’t know how the segments seemed so familiar with you, as though they’d known you all their lives; Pi somehow knew how much value you placed on your leather gloves, as he’d threatened to use them for chromium extraction when you didn’t let him take one of your fungi petri dishes, Gamma had off-handedly mentioned how it was a shame your ear piercings had closed up years ago because you couldn’t match with their fluorescent blue test tube earrings, and Theta wordlessly handed you a pile of the expensive cider wood parchment you preferred to use and hurried away before you could say anything. It was baffling, to say the least, but you appreciated the extra help. It meant you could skip off to have a rather overdue lunch without fretting over something or other you might have mistakenly left over a Bunsen burner, even if it was strange leaving the lab without the Doctor’s voice criticising your lack of commitment to your education as the door swung shut behind you.

You weren’t even surprised to find Childe outside, leaning against the doorframe and tossing a dagger through the air, letting it flip over itself before catching it once more. When you opened the door, he stumbled into you and the dagger slipped from his hands as he nearly knocked you backward; but in a rare moment of swift reflexes you jumped to the side to snatch it from mid-air before it could stab either of you in the leg, only for Childe to latch onto your cloak as he fell and subsequently landing you on top of him. For a long, drawn-out moment, you just stared at each other; one of your hands pressed to the floor near his head while the other gripped the knife a safe distance above you. You quickly noted two things. One: Childe was bony and being draped over him was overall an uncomfortable experience; the apex of each of his ribs dug sharply into your chest, and two: his eyes were a peculiar, beautiful shade, less like the sea and more like heavy velvet thrown over something that glowed bright and blue, dimmed by the weight of the fabric.

Childe was finding it difficult to process anything other than your closeness. Yes, you were even more breath-taking up close and yes he would’ve given anything to place his hands on your waist and pull you closer still, but he was even more enamoured by the dips and points of your knuckles where your hand gripped the dagger, the creases in your leather gloves around each finger and the oddly calculating look in your eyes as you appraised him. You could stab him, he realised with a rush, staring up at you. You could drive the blade down and lodge it between his ribs and he probably wouldn’t be able to react fast enough because it was you, and his blood would stain your cloak and blouse and a coppery taste would fill your mouth. He wondered if Signora was right, and whether you really would look better in red.

You cleared your throat, breaking the spell, and Childe suddenly noticed all the other tiny little things he probably wouldn’t get close enough to see again. The notion that such things would remain secret almost made him panic, and it took considerable effort not to clutch at you as you rose to your feet and dusted yourself off. You extended your hand to him, and he allowed himself a split second of self-indulgence, the liberty of seeing your outstretched hand reaching towards his collapsed body as something more than it was; he let himself believe that you, so bright and resplendent in your every trait you might as well have been the moon, were offering him, a creature writhing in the darkness, salvation or even just a moment’s respite.

You hauled him up from the floor with a grunt of effort (he couldn’t possibly be as bony as he felt. All that weight had to come from somewhere), then took off your glasses and held them to one of the wavering white lamps, handing him the dagger.

“Hello, Eleven.” You frowned at the new scratches on the lenses and started rubbing them with the hem of your blouse, even if you knew it was a fruitless endeavour. “How long were you waiting out here?”

“Long enough,” he all but whined in response, slinging an arm around your shoulder and ruffling your hair. Your only protest was a half-hearted grumble as you shoved your glasses back on, and his chest warmed with the thought that you no longer instinctively rebuked his touch. “C’mon, Trixy. I didn’t think you were the type to ghost someone after a date.”

“What are you talking ab- oh, for heaven’s sake,” you said exasperatedly, shooting him a look as he walked towards the stairs with you in tow. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

He beamed so widely you nearly stumbled on the steps, blinded by the intensity of his glee.

“So you’re not denying it was a date?”

You sighed out an incredibly inappropriate curse, drowned out by Childe’s hearty laughter.

“You are an incorrigible man.”

“Well you went on a date with this incorrigible man,” he countered cheerfully and not without a healthy dose of smugness. That earned him a withering look, and you detangled yourself from his side as you walked down the corridor.

“Everyone makes mistakes,” you said with a shrug, laughing slightly when he let out an indignant splutter. Childe bristled, trailing after you with an exaggerated pout.

“You should apologise for hurting my feelings, Trixy.” “If I were to apologise every time I bruised your fragile ego I’d never have time to say anything else,” you teased, linking your arm with his and pulling him along. “Now come on, they serve an exquisite pumpkin soup on Wednesdays.”

You wondered at what point you’d become so friendly with the Harbinger, to feel relaxed enough to so casually poke fun at him. Maybe your self-preservation instincts were decaying. Maybe it was worth it.

“I don’t want to see that… Arlie again,” Childe protested. You looked at him sidelong.

“Oh?” You asked, feigning surprise. “Why not?”

Because she outranks me and I don’t like having to share your attention, he thought. “She beat me in a fight once,” he admitted grudgingly. It wasn’t even a lie; that bitter defeat was indeed part of the reason he felt less than ecstatic around her, though the atrocities she’d carried out to become the fourth Harbinger were impactful too.

 “Infighting between members of the same organisation should not be the norm,” you stated, shaking your head. “You Fatui are ridiculous.”

Childe laughed, tugging you closer by your linked arms to elbow you in the ribs. “You’re one of us ridiculous Fatui now, remember?”

“I am not!” You protested, affronted, before sighing at the self-satisfied expression on his face and changing the subject. “Tsk. So you refuse to speak to her just because you lost to her once? That’s immature, even for you.”

“No, no, defeat is all part of the battle. I don’t like that she refused a rematch.”

You hummed thoughtfully, chewing over his response.

“So you believe you’d win this time?”

“Maybe,” he replied with a shrug, steering you past the dining hall’s entrance. “It doesn’t matter though, does it?” He continued, as though the idea of combat for the sake of combat was the most normal thing he could possibly conjure. “Sparring with a strong opponent is the real goal. Say, Trixy. Are you any good in a fight?”

You snorted. “I’m a scholar, Eleven, not a warrior. And even if I was, I wouldn’t spar with you.”

His face took on an almost comically wounded expression. “What? Why not?”

“Because I know when I’m outmatched,” you replied dryly, letting him drag you along. A dejected expression you felt compelled to ease fell over his face. “Although I do have passable aim with a bow and arrow,” you reluctantly offered, and the change in his demeanour to unadulterated ecstasy was laughable.

“Really?! You’ve got to show me.”

“What? No, absolutely not.” Your reply was swift and decisive, but Childe was nothing if not meddlesome and persistent.

“No, no, no, you’re not getting out of this,” he jubilantly exclaimed, tightening his hold on your arm as if to prevent you from running off. “We’re going to one of the training grounds right now, and you’re going to do some target practice.”

“I’ll use your bloody head as a target if you don’t drop it, Eleven,” you threatened.

“Great idea, let’s try that too!”

Even as you lamented his utter insanity, Childe steered you to the west wing of the palace where you’d never been before. Upon looking around, you concluded that all forms of combat training happened there; the sound of crashing steel and muffled gunshots, interspersed with the occasional crackling, sloshing or rumbling from what was probably from Vision holders practicing how to utilise their elements in battle. The silver in the walls was twisted into different patterns from what you’d become familiar with, abstract depictions of battles long-past and a whole wall of solemn, important-looking text gleamed almost menacingly, commanding the attention of any who walked past it. From your passable fluency in the Snezhnayan tongue, you deciphered it to be an oath of sorts where the reader swore to carry out a myriad of jovial things such as turning the snowy landscape into a ruby’s facet with the enemies innards or their own, and wreaking havoc within the heavens until it rained scarlet. All in the name of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa.

Wow. Bloodthirsty much?

You eyed the oath distastefully, missing how reverently Childe mouthed it as he led you into an empty archery range. Rows of targets stood on the other side, pockmarked and their paint scratched, with a few of them sporting an unfortunate red-brown stain. You were grateful that there was no one there, at least; if you were a little rustier than you remembered then there was no one to witness your mediocrity other than Childe, who was presently looking through the extensive selection of bows and chattering about the various advantages and disadvantages of different models. You riffled through one of the many quivers of arrows scattered haphazardly about, admiring the high-quality steel of the heads. Some of them even had meticulous patterns along their shafts, no doubt hand-painted, and you appreciatively traced a particularly striking golden dragon with tiny, methodical scales spanning the entirety of the arrow, ending at the head where the dragons jaws were open in a roar.

“Well, Trixy? What bow are you going to use?”

You glanced up from the quiver, twirling the dragon arrow between your fingers, eyes skipping over the countless bows laid across the stands. You noted the ones tossed carelessly across them with a disapproving glance, and eventually picked the one that was the most similar to what you remembered using, long-limbed with a straighter taper and made from wood you recognised as Yumemiru from the distinctive diamond-shaped whorls.

“Why that one?” Childe asked, mesmerised by the sight of you in his element with a weapon at your fingertips. What were you thinking about when your hands reached for that particular bow? Did you have any specifications, preferences in regards to size or even the type of wood it was made from? Were your eyes drawn by the faded blue leather wrapped around the handle? Would you prove to be better, smarter, quicker than he was? The thought sent his heart racing and his brain spiralling with the prospect of having you as a competitor, an opponent.

“Does it matter?” You replied with a shrug, testing its weight in your hands. “I’m no expert when it comes to the craftsmanship of weapons. The bow I learned to shoot was probably older than me with a string practically on its last life.” You frowned slightly, looking up at him. “Why do you ask? Is there some sort of technique or guideline I should follow?”

“No, no, don’t worry about doing something wrong,” he reassured, his back to you as he assembled a quiver of arrows. You lowered the bow to stare at him, flabbergasted that he’d so quickly and accurately read the involuntary hesitation in your answer.

“Usually we have beginners start with a compound bow, but you probably have your own inclination by now,” Childe continued, oblivious to your astonishment. “What you’ve got there is a longbow,” he added, tossing you an archery glove. “They’re generally more difficult to master and harder to use.”

You pulled off your glove after making sure his back was still turned before replacing it with the one he gave you, and then picked up the bow again with new interest.

“I see. And yours?” You asked, nodding towards the one he had picked, white wood gracefully curved and narrowed at the tips.

“This one’s a recurve bow. They’re better at close range and generally need more strength to draw.”

Childe couldn’t help but be entranced by your contemplative expression, all furrowed brows and a distant gaze as you took in the new information. He had to agree that you really were a scholar before all else; the pensive look you so often sported might as well have been made to be worn by your features. In your eyes, even an archery range became an experiment, a mystery to untangle. You sighed and turned to face the targets, nocking the arrow and drawing the bowstring back to touch your chin. Childe watched as you adjusted your aim, mentally evaluating your form, then let the arrow fly. He let out a low whistle of appreciation when it hit the centre with a satisfying thunk.

“Clearly your aim is more than just passable,” he remarked with an excited glint in his eye that you didn’t quite like.

“Accuracy is all I have,” you replied with a shrug, lowering the bow and gently pressing your fingers into the indent the bowstring left in your chin, perfectly aligned with the barely-visible scar there. You’d forgotten how tender the skin could get. “I doubt I can still hit a moving target, for one.”

“But you can get the bullseye every time?”

“Not every time,” you corrected, making your way to the target to pull the bow out of the wood. The painted dragon really was a masterpiece, and you took a moment to admire it before heading back to the archers’ stand. Childe grinned and followed after you, bow temporarily forgotten.

“So most times then?” He pressed, trailing closely behind you.

“Where are you going with this, Eleven?”

 “I still think we should spar,” he replied brightly, so close he was practically breathing down your neck. “We’ll make it so that if you manage to shoot me even once, I go down, or we could”-

You twisted around to poke his chest with the fletching of the arrow, cutting him off. “No.”

“Please?” He implored, rounding on you whatever direction you turned to avoid him. “Please, please, please?”

“No!” You repeat, louder and with the full force of your irritation. “I’m not dying before I get this damned certificate!”

There was a beat of silence as he stared at you, slightly aghast. “You think I’d kill you?”

“…I don’t think you’d do so on purpose, no,” you conceded, taking out your pocket watch. “But your strength exceeds mine to the point where fearing for my life in a duel wouldn’t be unreasonable.”

“It is unreasonable to assume I’d ever hurt you,” Childe groused, continuing to block your path every time you tried to move past him. “Stop trying to get away,” he added, bending over to pinch your cheek. You stared at him, utterly at a loss for words, then quickly smacked his hand away with an irate grumble.

“I need to get away, I still have lab work to do.”

Childe flapped his hand as if physically shooing away the idea. “You work too hard, Trixy. Take a break.”

“And what do you think this little exercise was?”

“A chance to impress me with your archery skills, of course,” he replied without missing a beat, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly. You rolled your eyes with a quiet huff of laughter, pushing past him, and he dutifully followed after you.

“You’re not very difficult to impress, are you?” You teased back.

Only when it comes to you, he thought wistfully.

*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚**  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚**  ੈ✩‧₊˚*

taglist:

@viridian-coffer, @vvzhyxx, @darifes, @whore-of-many-hot-men

@aenishas, @lovel3tter, @randomidk-123, @autistic-deer

@luvenus702, @zoriaisasimp, @ra404, @crownohomo

@diamondcookie45

if i missed you somehow please message me directly, bold means i’m having trouble tagging you! to be added or removed please comment on the masterlist post of this series <3