#contain an essence that i find hard to even fathom. you see !

[keeps-ache]

ah yiss. the golden garbage premium pass (free!)

[binniesthighs]

hello stranger | reader x changbin |

a/n: I sincerely apologize for the pain caused with last chapter...so naturally, i had to go and write more pain muahaha. i also apologize for the wait on this one, for some reason i had a weirdly hard time getting this one out of my head, ahhh i think I’m just lil sad about it all ending :( but! we’re almost out of the woods cuties!! thank you so very much reading as always!! <3 this is the second to last chapter and idk how to feel ahhhh 

Part 7 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x seo changbin, female reader x han jisung 

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, smut, angst 

Tags: (of this part) college au, rapper!changbin, rapper!jisung, establishedfwb!jisung, artist!reader, skz side characters, bestfriend!chan, bestfriend!felix, roommate!minho, explicit language, some kissin’ and that good, good makin’ out, soft n’ intimate body touchinggg, mentions of getting drunk in the past, mentions of a toxic familial relationship, gahhh lots of crying and emotions in this one but it’s bc we’re figuring things out :) 

CW: dub-con-ish scene due to conflicting feelings but it gets stopped pretty quick

Word count: 7.6k 

Chapters 

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART ? 

Jisung shared his apartment with two equally messy boys. You had forgotten their names despite meeting them and seeing them around on more than one occasion. Lucky for you, they each had distinguishing features so you named them as such: tall one and younger one with white hair. Once upon a time the four of you had hung out and they weren’t unbearable, just a bit cookie-cutter as you had called it. Both of them were in the same music school as Jisung and didn’t have many other interests outside going to music shows and playing PC games while loudly shouting. 

There was never food in that apartment but somehow there was always dirty dishes in the kitchen. Sure, it smelled a bit like dirty socks, but you never paid too much attention to that when you would clambering in the door with your lips locked with Jisung’s. It was strange walking in not doing so. Tall one and younger one with the white hair sat on the couch eating pizza with feet kicked up on their banged up coffee table. They didn’t say anything as they watched you walk in, but merely rolled their eyes and pretended that you weren’t there anymore. 

“We can go to my room.” Jisung raked his hand through his greasy brown strands, then kicked aside approximately ten pairs of sneakers. He held onto your hand tightly--so tightly that his knuckles turned white. 

You nearly slipped on that rug that lined the wooden floors of their hallway. It wasn’t the first time. 

Just as the rest of the apartment was, Jisung’s room was strewn with all kinds of random articles such as dirty clothes, tangled up cords and old to-go containers. His bed was unmade; it was those navy sheets that likely hadn’t been washed in several weeks. You could never really pinpoint what they smelled like, just that they smelled like him. You had spent nights there too, but they were nothing memorable. No groggy mornings with coffee or sunlight streaked onto his features for you to admire in the golden sheen. It had been running late to class and the dozens of times that you had left jewelry and hair-ties. 

“Wanna sit down?” Jisung patted the spot next to him, and you did so. 

The two of you sat in silence, the atmosphere became thick with the tangible sense of disaster that hung around the both of you. It was catastrophic.

His trembling hand came reaching for yours, and you let him take it. He sniffled, and it triggered your eyes to fill with the same hot tears. 

For the first time, you wondered, what am I doing here? 

“You want to lay down?” His puffy eyes asked you. 

You nodded, crinkling those bedsheets that were probably full of dust. 

In all your months of knowing him, you had never, never cuddled. This was the first time and you really weren’t even tied together anymore. 

His nose had turned pink, and he rubbed a bit of snot away with his wrist. 

“Thank you for coming here.” Jisung whispered. “But--what are you doing here? I thought that you were with Changbin now?” 

I am. You thought briefly. Am I? 

“I just...so confused right now. I don’t know...there’s just...I don’t know...” 

A tear fell down Jisung’s cheek, and you couldn’t fathom why he would be the one crying when it should’ve been you. You wiped it away. You had never thought of it before, but seeing him cry brought a sting to your chest. 

Jisung leaned forward, and the bed creaked lightly, then he kissed you. It wasn’t really a passionate one, but one that he had used to say more than he could himself. His lips tasted salty running over yours, and your brain froze deciding what to do. Jisung never changed: as broken as it felt, he was still starving, needy, and rough. You tried to find meaning in it, or if it made you feel. 

It didn’t. 

Jisung held your face in his hands, and with a hesitant sigh, he said, “I really, really wanted to do that for so long.” 

As desperate he had seemed for you, you couldn’t find the same desire if you had tried. Maybe, you had to find it? 

“Kiss me again.” You hushed. 

He licked his lips with a gaze softening. “Okay.” 

This time he swung his legs around your hips and straddled you with the kind of pressure that you had craved, once upon a time. He bent down to press even more of his heated desire on your skin. He was a good kisser, and you remembered once again how you really had wanted to have him kiss you like this, once upon a time. His tongue slicked against your bottom lip and you gave him the permission, testing it out just to see. 

You had thought back then that he was unreal. 

Jisung rutted his hips down into your waist, and you had already felt how he had hardened in his sweatpants. 

You knew how it would go...or how it used to.

“Baby, I want you so bad. You have no idea. I-I don’t think that I want anyone else besides you--” He broke to meet your eyes. Your world blurred, and sobbed out from under his gaze. 

What am I doing here? 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Worry flooded over his face. 

“I-I can’t do this, I shouldn’t do this, fuck--what the fuck am I doing?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Please just...get off of me. Please...” 

He did so, but still looked just as shocked. “Did I do something wrong?” 

He too started to tear up again. At last you could finally name what it was that tugged at his soft brown eyes. Fear. 

“Can you please tell me what I did wrong? Y/n, I don’t understand, you’re confusing me so much--” 

“--This isn’t right Jisung!” You nearly yelled with broken sobs. “We aren’t right.” 

Jisung’s face fell, crestfallen. “N-no--” 

“--We destroy each other!! Don’t you see?? Never have we ever been happy together, we’re just...coping! That isn’t love!!” 

“Then why the hell am I in love with you??” Jisung spat out the words, and then it was immediately evident that he had regretted saying them. 

A deadly silence fell over the room, and all that was left was the both of your weak sniffles. 

“What did you just say?” 

Jisung grabbed one the pillows then threw it down on the floor with a poof. 

“Fuck!!!” He literally shouted. His face had turned red, and snot dripped down to his lip. “I have fucking feelings for you okay?? Is that enough for you?” 

“Ji...yo-you can’t--” 

“I can’t what?! Is it a fucking crime? Listen, I’m scared out of my fucking mind saying this to you, alright? I don’t know why the hell I am but--” 

“--We-we can’t, Jisung..” 

“Can’t what?!” He threw his hands up into he air in his exasperation. “Stop fucking confusing me!!” 

“We destroy eachother.” 

Jisung grabbed another pillow to pummel to the ground, but then stopped himself, digging his fingers into the fabric until his nailbeds turned white. 

“We hurt eachother too much. An-and...I don’t think that it’s really our fault either. It’s just...who we are. I can’t give you what you want and you can’t give me what I want.” 

Jisung sobbed out horribly, then buried his face in his hands. 

“But I fell in love with you...?” His voice was terribly cracked. 

You watched as tears dropped into your lap and made little wet dots on your jeans. “I fell in love with Changbin...” 

His eyes were puffy and bloodshot, but still glistened, like the way that oil would slick in rainbows with the snow. 

“Then what are you doing here?” He asked one more time, but now he had appeared to be utterly broken. 

You rose from the bed, looking down at him and drying your face. “I...think I know why.” 

“And?” 

Outside of Jisung’s window, the view was similar to your own: city lights in an array of colors; each of them like stars on the ocean. On the wall adjacent from his bed, you noticed there was a crack. You had never realized that it was there before. 

“I’m admitting something that I should’ve a long time ago.” 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

You had likely forgotten to close a window in your apartment somewhere because the winter cold had pervaded the whole space. It took you about ten minutes to realize that it was in your bathroom from when you had taken a shower earlier to air let out the steam. 

The second thing that you noticed was the crumpled up blanket resting on the couch from before. For some odd reason, you felt the strong desire to wrap it all around yourself like you could capture some essence of him in it. Sure enough it did smell like that scent of his that you had grown so used to. You let the blanket trail behind you has you made your way to your room to pull on one of his shirts over your head. 

“Who told you that you could look so cute in that?” He had said one time. 

[23:16] Bin

me: can i call you? 

[00:18] Bin 

me: if you’re asleep, can I call you in the morning? if that’s okay? i said things that I didn’t mean...i just didn’t know it then. 

i’m so sorry 

how i treated you...you didn’t deserve that 

i understand if you’re mad at me. you have every right. 

i’m sorry that i couldn’t see that things that you were trying to show me. 

i see them now. 

You had thought that now the snow had finally faded into the edge of the winter that near it’s conclusion. Early March, and you wanting nothing more for spring buds to peep from the snow capped floral beds on street corners and for the white hugging the trees to dissapear forever. The winter had felt as if it had lasted for a year--even though this year you had seen less snow than other years. 

There had been a time when you firmly believed that once the snow melted, it would get better. Snow was a bitter memory, and it was curse that had to happen each and every year. 

The night that you had met Changbin, it had been cold. Cold like the winter that you had tried to hide from. You hadn’t thought of it until now, but he was much like the way that snowflakes melted on your skin. It reminded you of the icy coldness of the world for fleeting moments, then faded just as quickly as it arrived. The little wet mark of him warmed on your skin. 

Outside of the miniscule window to your living room, snowflakes got caught up in the edges of the frame, and sprinkled the surface of the glass in their variety of gorgeous fractals and unique shapes. A full moon was painted into the sky with a brightness that could’ve paralleled the sun on this clear night swimming in deep azure. 

You hugged the fabric of one of his shirts even closer to your frame, pretending for a moment that it was him that had been hugging you and not the cotton. 

“I’m so sorry.” You cried out weakly to the empty room. 

Your phone screen flashed with the time: [00:42]. You wondered, maybe he really had given up like he said that he would’ve. Maybe he walked home in the shivering cold, hands shoved into his pockets and decided that he was done waiting; that you weren’t worth his time and the effort. Maybe he walked in his front door, closed it behind himself, and said the words, This is it. No more. Maybe he walked into his room and cried. Maybe he didn’t. You couldn’t decide if you had wanted him to cry for you or not. Both hurt. 

[01:13.]  

Your eyes dragged with sleep, but your mind moved faster than the pace of your dry eyelids. Dust had settled on the white sheet that you had drawn over the painting in your room. On the underside of the sheet, globs of acrylic had dried and turned into multicolored flecks: a bit like the sheet was a piece of art and and of itself. It was nearly finished, and only had about one more quadrant left that was void of color. 

Your wooden pallet had been resting by the window, so it was cold to the touch--as were the little aluminum bottles of paint resting beside it. You used your shirtsleeve to dry away one tear that had battled its way to your lid, then sat back on your desk chair, facing the easel head on. 

Black first. Then deep blue, then bright yellow, burnt orange and gold. 

Hairs brushed over the canvas, and swept in wide strokes back and forth. With an empty mind, you smeared over the dark colors that faded to the edge of the canvas into the glowing light of the edge of the alleyway painted here. His figure was prominent, even though you couldn’t see his face. He wore black clothes that were simple. Frankly, you didn’t really remember what he had worn that night, but it didn’t matter much. Neon blue and red restaurant signs met on as reflection on his dark black hair. 

It was as if your chest and hand had been weighted down even further, but you fought through it to raise them. While you let the tears fall at first, they dried after long and made the skin of your cheeks tout. The room was silent, and so it was outside with the drifting snow. Soon, the painting would be finished, and you could sleep. You couldn’t sleep until then. 

if your art didn’t mean anything, what even was it? 

The pink lights lining your room provided the only light to the room, however not much else was needed than that. 

You bit your lip, now mixing yellow with red. 

If you couldn’t tell him. You hoped with every fiber that this would. 

[04:51] Bin 

me: if you’re up to it, can we talk? or, i can call you? 

goodnight  

wait its morning 

good morning then. 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

Chan was good at keeping his promises. There was not one time in your whole time in knowing him that he hadn’t kept a promise, no matter how absurd it might’ve been. He had promised you to buy you ice cream on the first day of snow, and he had promised to share his lyrics with you, no matter how much they would make him cringe. He promised that if you ever needed someone to watch your guilty pleasure reality shows with, he would be over as soon as he could. Next to Felix, you had figured a long time ago that if there were ever people in your life that you were destined to meet, he was one of them. Admittedly, there had been a time when you had harbored a crush on him, but as usual, you had been best at getting in your own way before anything could’ve happened. This, and you loved him as a friend too much. 

Too many jell-o shots were both of your enemies. Halfway into the driest seven minutes in heaven of your life, and halfway into your confession to him, he had passed out right in your arms. You were lucky that he had forgotten the event entirely. Or, he was keeping his promise that you had hurriedly made asking him to forget that it ever happened when you and Felix carted him out of there. 

While he was good at keeping promises, you more so wished that he had forgotten that one. 

Chan had promised that he would personally use his ID card to get into the soundproof booth in the music department to scream. 

You hadn’t ever taken him up on the offer until today. 

It was nearly midnight and unopened text messages still sat in in empty bubbles on your phone screen. 

Even though you had consistently texted “good morning” and “goodnight” for three days straight, the action of sending them didn’t make you feel any better. 

Chan didn’t ask any questions, but merely let you through the halls which echoed from your squeaking wet shoes. The green light of emergency signs appeared to be the only guiding lights, but Chan knew the way well. 

“Careful. The floor is slippery. They mop after everyone leaves.” He hushed in the silent hallway. 

Your fingers and lips cracked from the cold and felt tingly warming up in the dry heat of the building. The two of you turned two more corners, then Chan carefully wrapped his veiny and red hand over the handle to the door marked with “Studio Five.” He tapped his key to the reader, and it beeped with flashing green and orange lights. 

“Here. This is the entrance to the booth. I’ll enter from that door to get to the other side of the glass. You don’t...want me to go in with you?” 

“Want me to wreck your ears?” You have him a feeble smile. 

He mustered his own kind of strength that he had been keeping up just for you. “Hm. You’re right.” Your friend clicked on the light, and it burned your eyes at first compared to the black hall. “Take...all the time that you need, I’ll just be over there. If you wanna...talk about things, I’m here for that too.” 

The booth was an ugly shade of lime green, and you wondered how anyone could ever be creative in a place such as this. On the other side of the tinted glass, you watched as Chan flicked on the light, then made his way to push the button to the little intercom system. His voice buzzed with a tinny sound. 

“No one can hear you, so....go nuts.” 

The walls were too padded with black foam insulation, and for a moment you considered how strange it was, that you, had entered that place to scream--not make music like the room had been used to. Even though the walls were lime green. It still brought a sense of sadness to your chest. 

The room spun lightly behind your eyes, and you panted out frantically. 

What the hell am I doing in here? 

[23:29] bin 

me: I hope that you sleep well tonight. i’m thinking of you. 

“Is everything okay in here?” Chan’s voice said over the speakers. 

“W-what am I doing here?” You repeated the question, feeling panic rise up your throat. 

“Getting your anger out?” He tiled his head. “I-I don’t know why else because you didn’t tell me. You angry at someone? Something?” 

“N-no? --I mean, yes...I-I don’t know.” You said with uncertainty. Suddenly the foam walls of the room started to close in. “I need to get out of here.” 

“Woah! Woah! Y/n! What’s--” Chan chased you out of the room, back into the empty hallway with the squeaky floors and the green light. 

“Hey, let’s just...take a breather here for a sec.” Your friend reached out to smooth down your arms. “If you wanna talk about it, I can help maybe?” 

You tore from his gasp, then slumped against the wall to slide all the way down and sit on the cold linoleum floors with the heaters pumping steadily above your head. 

“He’s not...messaging me back, and I think that I royally fucked up this time. I think that I finally did it, I finally pushed him too far.” 

“Who? Changbin?” Chan crouched down to sit next to you. “Is that what this is about?” 

Shallow breaths filled up your lungs, “I think...I think I just lost everything that I could’ve had with him, and it’s all my fault...I’m fucking angry at myself, Chan.” 

“A-are you sure?” 

“I basically told him that I didn’t know if I wanted to be his girlfriend...after everything that’s happened, everything that he’s done and how patient he’s been...but...there was Jisung an-and...I realize that I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean any of it, I want to be with him so fucking badly and I was just too caught up to see it and--” 

“--Stop!” Chan barked. “Stop and give yourself a second to breathe! Did you realize that you’re not doing that? 

You hadn’t. Nor had your noticed your shaking hands. However, Chan had seen them, and held them with his. 

“You said that you do want to be with him but you told him that you didn’t?” 

Somewhere in the hallway, one of the emergency floodlights blinked with a harsh white light. 

“Yes.” 

“And did you tell him that you didn’t mean it?” 

“I have but he hasn’t gotten back to me? He would always get back to me, no matter what it was--it makes me worry--” 

Chan cupped your hands then brought them to his chest where he held them earnestly. “Some things are out of our control, Y/n. And, I hate to say it but, now, I think you need to come to accept the possibility that maybe...” His gaze softened. “I’m sorry. I wish I could say something more or better but I’m not him and I can’t know...” 

You scoffed, “Is that supposed to be comforting?” 

Chan tsked, as he often would do with a little sarcastic drag to his voice. “A long time ago I promised you that I would always be honest with you, and you know that I hold to my word.

He rubbed his thumb into your hands. 

“Do you want me to say then to go running after him? Throw it all to the wind? Even if it doesn’t end up going your way?” 

“...Maybe.” You swiped a tear from the corner of your right eye. “Would it be worth it?” 

“Maybe.” He sighed. 

A silence filled the hall and the space between you two, and Chan kept holding your hand. It was a simple touch, but you hadn’t realized that you had craved something as such. 

“Y/n? Can I say something?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Even if it isn’t him that it ends up being, I think that you should know that you still deserve happiness in someone. Even after all that you’ve been through, you still do. It sounds like to me...you’re finally realizing it.” He smiled with a bit of a wrinkle to his lips. “I’m proud of you.” 

You squeezed his hand. “Thank you. Its...been a long time coming.” Your head hit the wall behind you with a slight thud. “I’ve been painting recently. And...it means something to me. I feel like I found something, like I’m seeing something for the first time in a long time and it makes me really... full. Like he does.” 

Your friend let go, then went to play with his shoe-laces. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, what was the final straw?” 

“He just...loved me different. Better than I ever could myself, and I think that it made me realize that in order for me to love him too, I had to make peace with myself, and just...” You breathed out a laugh, “...Chill the fuck out. But--I know that I can’t let go of it forever. What happened, made me. I can’t give that up, but that doesn’t mean that I should wallow in it forever. I don’t deserve that.” 

Chan leaned to give you a light slap to the arm. “Look at you.” 

“I...saw Jisung too.” 

While anger laced his voice, Chan remained level headed. “...And?” 

“Me and him just dug ourselves into a deeper hole. Even he...he could do better. He needs a “Changbin” too. You know? I can’t be that for him. I never was even close. I feel sorry. I should probably see him one last time...” 

The image of Jisung’s disparaged face burned in your memory in the midst of it all. Somehow you had forgotten that he had gotten feelings tangled it up in it all, and you had just left. Through all that you had been through with him, you couldn’t let it just go so easily. 

“There’s a lot of things that I need to make right.” You sighed out with finality. Next to you, your best friend did the same. 

“Whatever happens, Felix and I will be here for you. Like always.” 

“Mm. Thank you, Chan. Really. Thank you so much. The two of you are the best friends that I could ask for. I don’t know how you put up with me...” 

“Ahhh, don’t mention it.” He shoved his shoulder into yours playfully. “Ya know, if this goes south, we could just date.” 

“What?!” Your head whipped over to him so hard it hurt. 

“As I recall, about a year ago all it took were some jell-o shots...” 

You smacked him upside the head, causing him to burst out laughing in that empty hall. 

“I told you to forget about that!!” 

“I’m just joking!! Jeez! Can you take a joke!?” 

You laughed with him, your goofy and kindhearted best friend. You realized it hadn’t happened in quite some time. 

“Yeah Changbin is alright, but me and Felix are forever. Got it?” He teased, and you slumped your head on his shoulder. 

“I know.” 

In your pants pocket, your phone vibrated and flashed with a white light. 

[01:36] L. Minho 

minho: i fucking hate that i’m in this position 

but 

bin’s in a bad way and i’m fairly certain that he hasn’t told you about it all 

idiot. 

anyway, his parents are being shitty assholes and i think that he really needs you right now, even if he isn’t saying anything about it. actually i know that he does. 

i also wanna ask you to kindly resolve whatever shit that you have going on before you walk in our door. out of kindness for both yourself and him. 

sorry not sorry. i really do love the both of you and it hurts me to see it be like this. 

i suggest that you come over as soon as you can. 

Your heart beat its way into your throat with a million emotions, but out of them all, fear for Changbin ached the most. 

 “Chan, I have to go.” 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

It was likely Minho who had buzzed you in. 

Luckily, the night had somehow gotten warmer--at least warm enough to where you couldn’t see your breath in front of your face any more. Unfortunately though, you had still worn the shoes that Changbin would scold you for wearing on snow-packed nights. Luckily, the snow had started melted too. 

The door clicked when it unlocked, and you slid inside the glass entrance that was smudged with fingerprints and the wet from dog’s noses pressing on the surface. 

For a reason unknown to you, you decided to take the stairs--even though he had lived on the seventh floor. Partially you had decided that you had done so because it meant that you had more time with your thoughts; more time to decide if you really had resolved all the shit that you needed to leave on the outside of his doorstop. 

You thought back to the painting sitting finished in your room. It waited in all of it’s beauty for the sun to shine on it and the rest of the world to see it. For him to see it. It was for him that you had painted it in the first place. Every ounce of pain and confusion was lathered across the canvas, it was bare for anyone to see after you had kept it concealed for so long. 

He would see it. 

You took each step slow and carefully, and listened to the way that the sound bounced off of the walls and how the carpet matted on each stoop.

Chan had said, “Even after all that you’ve been through, you still do.” 

Minho opened the door after three clicks wearing a bathrobe and slippers. For being so distressed like his message had said, he looked perfectly cozy. You remembered that Minho really was one to keep it all together when shit would get intense. Somehow he had the ability to write whole papers over the course of one day and had passed tests after studying for only four hours. You wished you could manage as well as he could. 

“Fuck. It’s late.” He rubbed his eyes. “Come in. Take off your shoes please.” 

You did so, and rubbed your toes into their carpet. It was almost as if you were waiting further instructions, but you knew full well what you had to do. 

Minho glared at you expectantly. “Well? Shits left outside?” 

“Shits left outside.” You repeated with a nod. 

“l’ll let him explain. It isn’t really my place. Just--listen to him okay? I think that’s what he needs right now.” 

The apartment itself was a bit barren, the only things that were placed in the small space were the things that the inhabitants needed: a dining table, a leather couch, a TV set, a few beanbags and a kitchen kept clean by Minho. It was strange seeing a place so organized and...neat. It was as if this apartment was from an other side of the world compared to what you had grown used to previously. Changbin’s thick and dark black coat hung on one of the dining chairs, the same that he had worn the night that he had last seen you. You wondered if it had been sitting there these past few days. 

“Go on.” Minho flapped his hands to usher you down the hallway to Changbin’s room. At the end of the hallway was the bathroom, and seeing it flooded your skin with the feeling of warm water and defrosting skin, lips on lips with heated desire; tracing fingertips that got caught with the translucent stream of water as they brushed down spines and hips. If you could’ve gone back to then and done it all over...you wondered if you would’ve. 

“Knock first.” Minho mouthed. 

You did, breath hitching when it opened slightly, and you called out his name. “Bin? Its me. Can I...can I come in?” 

His hesitant voice called back to you, “Yes.” 

He was a crumble on his bed, black socks twisted up with his dark bedsheets and his hoodie riding up his back to expose a sliver of skin where he laid facing away from the door. His beautiful dark hair was knotted. 

“B-Bin? A-are you okay?” You advanced forward carefully, reaching out to touch his arm. You had never seen this confident and headstrong man reduced to something so small, it broke your heart into shards to see him as such. You didn’t know what to do with yourself: sit with him? Stand? Crawl in to bed next to him? Unspoken words filled the air, and he sniffed out loudly into it. 

“Thank you for messaging me still.” Was what he had said first. “I saw them a little bit ago. I was...too scared to open them at first...your messages. I was...ashamed to...” 

“--Bin,” You took two steps closer. “You don’t have to explain yourself.” 

He sniffed in with a clogged nose once more. “I’m sorry.” 

Two more steps. “No, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry that I didn’t listen to you, and took all of your patience with me for granted. I really don’t deserve it. I tore you up, and that was awful of me. You somehow ended up being collateral damage to me figuring my shit out and I can’t say I’m sorry enough. I understand if you don’t want to keep this going that we--” 

“--Can you get into bed with me?” He suddenly interjected. Changbin twisted his hand back as if he knew that yours was there in some superhuman way, and grabbed at it. “It’s...cold.” 

Your heart paused, uncertain if you had heard him correctly. 

“Please?” Changbin muttered. “Two bodies is warmer than one.” 

Silently, you crossed the room and shimmied off your coat so it fell to the floor. It had been partially absentminded, but you had pulled on one of his shirts that day. It was light grey, and had nearly lost all semblance of his scent on it. You pulled the covers over both of you, peering just enough to see his puffed and red eyes and red wet nose. Seeing him like this, you had to fight every instinct to pull him into your arms, but rather keep a respectful distance. 

From seeing the way that he dominated the stage to how he looked under the soft glow of your pink lights, to how he had looked as thin and as fragile as glass now, it had all finally made sense to you. As brash and forthcoming as he was, it wasn’t all of who he was in the slightest. If anything, it was who he had pretended to be. 

Tears fell over his pink lips. “I didn’t tell you because...I was embarrassed. Fuck,” He laughed a little, “It’s so fucking pathetic. I’m so pathetic for getting so messed up over this all. I-I shouldn’t. That and...it’s not something that you should--”

“--Don’t you dare say that I shouldn’t worry about this Bin. How many times do you need me to say it?” You traced his dark hair over his ear. “What happened to being each other’s problems?” 

He smiled with a weak grin, then wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “Minho didn’t tell you?” 

You shook your head. “He said that you should be the one to.” 

Changbin sighed out, then pulled the comforter up to his nose, adjusting himself to meet your eyes with his that were strained with pink. 

“They’re disowning me. For real this time. They asked me to do a legal name change and everything...as if...they’re cutting me out of the family line. Fuck, I mean, they basically are.” 

His chest shook with an inhale, and a thick and burning mucus felt as if it had clung to your throat. It was anger and rage, the kind that was so foreign to you, it even started you to feel such a thing. 

“Bin, I’m so sorry. They’re...they’re fucking less than human is what they are. Treating you their own son like this...like they think that they can reverse time so that you were never even born of them...” Under the sheets your knuckles clenched so hard it bit the skin of your palms. “I-I’m sorry too...that you were going through this by yourself--” 

In one single motion he had spread out his arms to circle them around your upper body and pull it into hm. 

There he was again. Rosemary and cedarwood. 

You were in shock, but feeling the warmth from his body on yours made you shiver--it was the contact that you had craved so intensely now that you had it, it was so all encompassing that your brain scrambled feeling it. 

“Thank you for coming.” He whispered to the top of your head. 

Your hands snaked around his body, and you held him back. 

In that very moment, you had decided that you would spend the rest of your life holding him back if he would let you. If there was someone out there listening to your thoughts, you prayed that they would let you hold him. 

Changbin patted to top of your head with a trembling hand.

“What the fuck do I do?” 

Your fingers tugged at the thick cotton of his hoodie. 

“They said that either I meet with them to sign away my name, or I pack up, and go back with them as if nothing happened. They said that they were willing to “forgive” everything that I had “done” if I chose to come back home with them, so to school, and forget everything that I’ve ever written, performed...” 

“They said that??” 

The young man remained silent, but instead nuzzled further into you. 

“They said that they could arrange for a meeting with their legal team to finalize it in as little as two days if I decide to do it. Those assholes expedited the whole process and called up their lawyers to make it happen as quick as possible...” 

“Bin...” You cooed, and smoothed up and down his back. Being close to him like this you could nearly feel his own heart breaking in his chest against yours. 

“Do I forget everything that I was to chase this...dream? Or do I go back, get their support, live a normal life...” 

“--Stop.” You gently pushed his hand away to look up at him. “This, all of this is your life Changbin. It’s what you’ve worked hard for relentlessly and it’s what makes you happy, isn’t it? Yeah, it’s harder to do, but you’ve gotten so far, people love you! You’ve made a name for yourself, people want to hear your music--” 

“--Yeah, my names gotten itself out there a little too well for my parent’s opinions.” 

You wiped a tear cascading from one of his exhausted eyes. “They should be proud of you, not trying to suppress you.”  

“They...don’t want me to be Changbin any more. Do you know how that feels? I’ve lived my whole life being me and now they just want to take away the very last thing that I have that they didn’t touch?” He stifled a sob. 

“Hey! Just because you change it on paper, doesn’t mean we have to call you that!” You laughed out gently, “If you want to get a driver’s license or something it might be important...but, you’re always going to be Changbin to me, and Minho and everyone else who knows you. A name is just a word. You make up who you really are.” 

Changbin laughed out, then returned his hand to pat at your head. 

“Who told you to say that?” 

You chuckled back at the way that he had turned your words back on you. “No one.” 

“I’m just me, but...” Under the covers, your legs intertwined. “I think that if we compare a life of missed oppurtunties to a life where you leave a couple things behind, its worth leaving.” 

Body heat swirled between the two of you, and it was as calming as a song. Changbin brought his hand down to caress the side of your cheek with as much gentleness one would with those fragile snowflakes. 

Past his shoulder, your eye caught a small piece of paper that had been pasted to the wall above his desk: right in a space where he could see it if he had sat at his desktop. It was crinkled and held several creases and the lead that had been used to draw on it had smudged as if it had rubbed up against itself. 

It was a picture of a bench, some Christmas lights, and the city skyline behind it.

Tears flooded your eyes, and then fell freely onto his his fingers where he held your face. They caught in the corners of your mouth, and heated up your eyes. 

“Woah, hey, what is it?” Changbin rubbed away the wet and pulled you even closer to him. 

“Y-you kept it?” Your voice wavered. 

“Kept what?” 

You pointed a shaking finger to your drawing posted on the wall, and his eyes widened at first like he was embarrassed, then he slowly faded into something much softer. 

He nearly whispered the words, “Of course.” 

“W-why?” 

“It reminded me of you and that night. I think that I realized something then.” 

“What’s that?” He wiped your tears once more, stretching the skin of your face as he did so. 

“I realized that, well...I’m in over my head here.” He laughed out lightly. “Do you need me to say it again? I love you a fuck ton, alright? Getting over things, and healing from things...it’s not easy. You...don’t have to apologize for the mess of things and what it did to you. It’s not your fault.” 

You threw your head into the crook of his neck to sob openly. But I hurt you. I made you wait...I-I don’t wait you to wait any longer.” 

“And I made you wait too. My stupid...my parents fucked me up too, and I couldn’t get over the fact that this fucking mess that they made of me put a wedge between me and you. I didn’t feel like you deserved...I’m a mess too. A fucking nervous, cocky bastard at times and I don’t know how to talk about it. Isn’t that pathetic?” 

“What?? No--” 

“You wanna call it even then?” He grinned out, and it was his sly little smile that you had found yourself thinking of after you had seen it for the first time those months ago. 

“I--” 

“Damn. It does feel kinda good to talk about things.” He joked. 

You cried out his name even harsher, then melted into his whole body. He was boundless in the way that he had understood you, and how he had looked you without condition or pause. 

You don’t have to be scared any more. 

With your face muffled in the fabric of his shirt, you let the words fly of your tongue with reckless abandon, and it felt as if you had finally been rid of the crushing shroud fogging your mind, and chaining your heart. 

“I-I want you to be...my Changbin. An-and I want to be--” 

“--Wait!” Changbin pulled you back by the shoulders with a new and wild smile on his face that only grew wider by the second. A type of excited panic flamed in his chocolate brown eyes. “Willyoubemygirlfriend???” He said at light speed. 

You were confused as to why he had said it as such, but you nodded, finally feeling the sense of respite that you had searched so hard for. “Y-yes?” 

Changbin startled you with his sudden crack of laughter, then squeezed you so tight that it became hard to breathe. Once he let go looser, he bowed in deep to press dozens of kisses on your mouth and around it. Most of them missed the mark, but that didn’t matter to him. He only stopped for a couple moments to mutter the words, “I wanted to say it first.” You would’ve laughed had he not been attacking you incessantly with more and more pecks that you struggled to keep up with. 

“I-I’m sorry again that I made you wait--” 

Changbin rolled his weight over to lean carefully over your body tangled up in the sheets, then kissed away at your lips with “don’t say that’s “ quietly. “Thank you for trusting me.” He said quickly, then returned, pouring out oceans of admiration onto your lips until they felt a little raw. You kissed him back too, and you kissed him like you wanted to spend your whole life holding him back. His blissful little “oh’s” tickled at your lips, and you giggled at the way that they vibrated. 

Once you had properly kissed nearly all of the air out of each other’s lungs, you laid back, gasping, and each still a bit bewildered. 

“Thank you for trusting me too.” You turned your head to look at him where he lay with quickened breaths quaking his chest. 

“When I go through with this name thing, can you...be there?” 

“Yes.” 

“Thank you.” He said, barely loud enough for you to hear. His strong hands fell down his shirt which you wore; down to the small of your back where he snuck up the fabric. His fingers tickled at your tiny hairs there. 

“I have one more loose end to tie myself. One more place that I need to make peace.” 

Changbin nodded. “Mm. We’ll get through it together.” 

To your surprise, Changbin then took to pulling his sweater over his head, revealing his bare chest, then pulled off his pants from his legs a bit awkwardly under the covers. 

“W-what are you doing?” 

He giggled, then pulled at the hem of your shirt for you to do the same. 

“Trust me.” He whispered. 

You held his eyes as you did, and your bare skin too met the crinkling edges of the sheets which were a bit colder than you had expected. Changbin watched as you did so with a prideful little grin. 

“I-I’m confused.” You hugged your arms over your cold torso. 

“You’re so gorgeous.” He merely muttered, uncrossing your arms for him to look at you fully, then pulled you by the under sides of your chin back to his lips. He pulled gently at your bottom lip with his teeth. “Clothes were getting in the way.” He hushed, then set to unhooking your bra behind your back. 

“Getting in the way of what?” 

“Me being as close to you as I possibly can.” 

While he had said the phrase calmly, it still sent heat rising straight to your cheeks. 

“I want to hold my love like this for as long as she’ll let me. Can I?” 

Your two bodies met in the middle, flush, buzzing with a kind of giddy energy that only heightened the more curious that your hands got eating up each other’s presence. 

“As long as you’ll let me do the same.” 

You couldn’t quite tell, but it had almost felt as if Changbin had scribbled little invisible messages into the skin of your back. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” He answered. 

You took his wrist to kiss at the line of a scar that lived there. Naturally, Changbin blushed rosy from the action--then promptly pretended that he just hadn’t. 

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses! 

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @lunarskzzz

[shih-coulda-had-it]

casualty report

my entry for @queenangst‘s bnha gen contest! Link to AO3, but also contained below the Keep Reading.

WC: 2,454

Summary: Hospitals are supposed to be places of healing. Yet whenever Toshinori sits in one with Gran Torino, it seems that Toshinori is always clawing at his own heart. Spoilers up to C305.

//

The air is cold, sterile, and silent, save for the low hum of machinery and intermittent beeping of the heart monitor.

Yagi Toshinori enters Gran Torino’s assigned room in a similarly muted fashion, sliding the door open and shut with barely a click. He finds the chair where he left it; the old man hasn’t gotten any visitors besides him and the nurses. Like Midoriya, Torino teeters on the knife edge of survival, and like Midoriya’s classmates, Torino’s colleagues are swamped with work.

Toshinori has the privilege to visit them both. So he splits his time between his teacher-mentor-father and his student-successor-son and waits. They are similarly stubborn about clinging to life; Toshinori is confident they will wake.

Whether they will be happy about it…

As he sits, Gran Torino’s eyes crack open. His already labored breathing stutters, resulting in a full-body twitch that eventually culminates in a pained groan.

“Take it slow,” Toshinori advises.

“Stupid lesson from a stupid teacher,” Torino snaps. Toshinori looks away to focus on the bright yellow fabric bundled on top of a cabinet, neither laundered nor repaired. He’ll have to do it later. 

The silence between them is tense. Surprisingly, it’s Torino who breaks it.

“Izuku?”

“Coma,” Toshinori says, fingers curling into fists. Before Torino can curse, Toshinori adds, “I think he’s talking to the predecessors of One for All.”

“Not something you could do,” the old man comments. He’s peering down at his injuries with a detached fascination: the maimed leg, the thick compress hiding beneath his bandages. Toshinori is uncomfortably reminded of his own injury, and of his own convalescence. He had recovered quickly, and privately, though he suspects that One for All had assisted with the process.

However lucky Torino is to have survived, Toshinori thinks the aftermath will be so much messier.

“It’s not,” he agrees.

“How can you tell?”

“A feeling,” says Toshinori. He forges on despite Gran Torino’s disbelieving eyebrows. “I think oshishou had a point, about the predecessors’ spirits living on in One for All. I’m not able to channel One for All anymore, but I think I still have some connection to the Quirk.”

“Ghosts in the machine,” says Torino dryly. He studies Toshinori. “Oh. You’re not joking.”

“I wouldn’t joke about this.”

Honestly, Toshinori had thought Torino would be ecstatic (as ecstatic as the old man ever got, as he swung between smugness, serenity, and seething fury) at the possibility of reconnecting with Shimura Nana. He had also quailed at the thought of telling Gran Torino that Toshinori’s own connection seemed to be a one-way thing.

And Toshinori doesn’t know how to tell Torino that he feels betrayed, in a way.

When he was researching the previous users of One for All, an alien-like urgency had pushed him past investigating to obsessing. As though a whisper had filtered through his head and said: what else, what more, why now?

Shinomori’s case. The hypothesis that Toshinori’s Quirkless heritage had protected him from the pitfalls of a stockpile Quirk.

The harsh intake of multiple people breathing in at once, even though Toshinori had been alone, with only stacks of heavily-redacted reports to keep him company. All of Toshinori’s devotion, and it had earned him nothing but sleepless nights and silent vigils.

Torino sighs then, heavy with resignation. And just like that, he moves on. “Shigaraki?”

“Escaped,” Toshinori reluctantly says. He doesn’t want to talk about the current situation of society and its failure to stabilize in the wake of so many terrible revelations and events. He really doesn’t want to talk about Tartarus. Except, it will be impossible to keep Torino in the dark about it forever. “Don’t have a heart attack on me, but—All for One’s back on the field.”

One heartbeat. Then two.

Something like forty years ago, Gran Torino and Toshinori had sat in a hospital room, numbed to the core by the very real confrontation and consequence of baiting All for One into the light. The superficial injuries belied the grief suffusing Toshinori’s body, and although he hadn’t recognized it at the time, the terror in Torino’s.

White-faced, Gran Torino had told Toshinori that they could not afford to stop moving.

Sleep. Wake up. Go to school. Your internship hours are going to be spent sparring with me.

For the rest of the year?

Until I’m goddamn satisfied.

It was a miracle they had survived the first week without killing each other. In retrospect, Toshinori could see the value in Torino’s decision to forgo the mourning period. Toshinori had still ended up sobbing on the ground, confessing to his father what he could not to his mother.

And of course, without dwelling on Toshinori’s admission, Gran Torino moved on to the next point of business.

“Cockroach,” Torino says through gritted teeth. The heart monitor stays impressively calm. “Third time’s the charm, then?”

“Torino-sensei, the third time was Kamino Ward. It’s safe to say the odds are against us.”

Toshinori’s bleak assessment earns him a narrowed glare, and it’s a sign of how exhausted and bitter Toshinori feels that he is unfazed. He can afford to be scared of Torino when Torino is walking of his own volition, cursing up a storm about the fact that he can no longer eat a whole box of microwaved taiyaki.

“Casualties?”

“Multiple civilians,” says Toshinori. “Multiple pro-heroes. None of the students, thank goodness.”

Torino stares at him. “There were no students at the hospital.”

“Many were… encouraged to participate in the mansion raid.” It still leaves a sour taste in his mouth. Terrible, yes, to see Eraserhead bandaged up yet again due to Toshinori’s failures, but it was even worse to see his students file back into U.A.’s dorms, eyes shadowed with something more than grief. Midnight’s death haunts them still.

The old man breathes.

“What else?”

“A loss of trust,” Toshinori says, leaning his elbows on his knees, fingers pressed together like a prayer. “Civilians want to protect themselves, and the remaining pro-heroes of Japan are stretched thin. Some died, and many are retiring.” He offers Torino a mirthless smile. “Yoroi Musha is out.”

“Twenty years too late,” Torino responds.

“You never liked him.”

“Gimmicky cowards with a chip on their shoulder shouldn’t be in this line of work.”

Well. Either Toshinori takes that as a personal insult, an unintentional dig, or Gran Torino’s acerbic sense of humor. He goes quiet anyway. Now is a good time as any for a lull in conversation to occur, but Toshinori doesn’t get long to contemplate his next move. 

“What’s eating you up,” Torino demands flatly.

“Nothing.”

“Pull my other leg.”

“It’s nothing,” Toshinori stresses. “And if there was something, I wouldn’t want to talk about it.”

“Toshinori. When you bottle up your specific brand of guilt, it has a tendency to backfire on you spectacularly,” says Torino. “I’m not walking away for a long time, so get it off your chest right now while I’m wired to half a dozen machines.”

Toshinori interlocks his fingers.

“Toshinori.”

“The Public Safety Commission has been disbanded,” he tries. “Their headquarters were attacked the same time the raids occurred.”

“Unsurprising,” says Torino. 

“I don’t think anyone could have anticipated a direct attack, Torino-sensei.”

“I’m not talking about the Commission. I’m talking about you. Deflecting.” 

Hospitals are supposed to be places of healing. Yet whenever Toshinori sits in one with Gran Torino, it seems that Toshinori is always clawing at his own heart.

“Do I disappoint you?” Toshinori asks, resigned to hearing an answer he already knows, staring hard at his hands. He’s pushing the wrong side of his fifties, less grizzled and more gaunt, more of a beanpole and less of a pillar. It’s impossible to remember all the things he did right when all Toshinori can see is where he went wrong.

And even though Gran Torino looks so fragile, tiny and bedridden, bandaged and hooked up to more machines than Toshinori can count on one hand—he still has the strength to look ahead.

Toshinori didn’t learn that. He had thought he did, those six years ago when he survived the fight with All for One, because in spite of the grievous injury, All Might had forged on.

“You can be honest,” Toshinori says. “Just like in U.A.”

“We’re a long way from that time,” says Gran Torino. His expectant and unimpressed expression hasn’t changed.

“It was a yes or no question, Torino-sensei.”

“No, then.”

He says it so simply. Toshinori blinks. Torino tips his head to the side, watching with half-lidded eyes how Toshinori processes his answer. Except Toshinori cannot fathom when this change of perception happened, because just as recently as Kamino Ward, Toshinori had still been reduced to sitting on his ass, listening to Gran Torino’s instructions.

“You’ve done more than anyone should have asked of you,” Torino says. “And you did it well.”

“I overlooked so many problems,” Toshinori protests. “So many people didn’t feel safe.”

“Brat,” says Gran Torino fondly.

“Torino-sensei.”

“There’s something more than that. You’ve been dealing with that insecurity for decades, and you know as well as I do that even a Symbol of Peace can’t catch everything. What’s going on?” Torino is ruthless when he wants to make a point; Toshinori circles back to his original impulsive question and thinks—

“Midoriya-shonen,” says Toshinori in a soft voice. “He’s talking to the predecessors.”

“So you said.”

“And I couldn’t. I can’t, even now, even though I’m connected to One for All still.” From there, the words come spilling out. “Oshishou told me from the beginning that One for All had some kind of spiritual essence. She might not have said outright about the voices, but she hinted at it. That we could meet again, somehow. And all those years… forty years, Torino-sensei, and—and nothing. Not a word, not a vision.”

Midoriya’s crybaby genes must have bounced over the connection, because horrifically, Toshinori can feel his face contort and his eyes water. He hasn’t cried in front of Gran Torino in decades.

“Like I wasn’t worthy,” Toshinori concludes, choking on the last word.

Here is what Toshinori learned on his own, independent of Gran Torino’s teachings: don’t cry. Smile through the fear and the pain, and don’t cry.

Conveniently, Toshinori has forgotten that all those decades ago, Gran Torino never censured him for his tears. So it is now, that Toshinori feels the unfamiliar prickle and the cooling trails sliding down his face, and Gran Torino says nothing.

Until he does.

“You’re everything Shimura stopped hoping for. Did you know that?” Toshinori jerks his head up from its bowed position; he can hear oshishou saying in her wry tone, typical Torino. Can’t make eye contact when communicating an emotion. “I saw her through almost every big milestone in her life. Her pro-hero license, her marriage, her pregnancy. The loss of her husband, and then her son.”

“You didn’t try and stop her.”

“She knew best.” Torino’s grin is painful. “I believed that then, and I believe it now. Kotarou survived longer than he would’ve if he stayed in her custody, which was ultimately her goal. So Shimura was right on that, never mind what Kotarou did with his life after. And you… I told you already.”

“You know me,” Toshinori jokes. He recalls his rusty impression of Torino’s lecturing tone, perfected during those golden hours of patrol with oshishou. “‘It takes twice as long for me to tell you something, versus me beating the lesson into you once.’”

“Then listen,” says Torino. “When Shimura met you, she was still hurting from giving up Kotarou. She couldn’t stop being a hero, but she didn’t want to stop being a mother. And every day, the news cycle spoke of a crime wave, fueled by something bigger than the injustices of the world.

“I was enough to keep her from drowning in work. It wasn’t until she met you that she started smiling again. That she had a son again.”

Toshinori scrubs his eyes. “Really could’ve used this talk forty years ago,” he manages.

“I wasn’t this emotionally intelligent forty years ago.”

“If Hound Dog ever managed to sit us down for therapy, he’d diagnose us both as emotionally-stunted,” he tells Torino. “You probably perpetuated a family cycle, Torino-sensei.”

“One of us cries, and it isn’t me,” Torino shoots back waspishly.

“It’s Midoriya-shonen,” Toshinori agrees.

Torino’s laugh comes out as a wheeze, and Toshinori winces in sympathy. The exhaustion that comes out of crying begins to settle in; he hasn’t allowed himself to cry for a while. Not in front of the students, and not in front of his colleagues. Gran Torino is situated in that blurred zone of family and teacher and co-worker.

Gran Torino is tiring as well. The conversation’s taken a lot out of him, and it surely doesn’t help that he was treated to a hint of Toshinori’s resurfacing insecurities.

“You asked if you disappointed me,” the old man says quietly, hoarsely. “Didn’t I disappoint you?”

His throat sticks.

Torino smiles, wry. “I know,” he says.

“Torino-sensei,” Toshinori attempts, horrified at his slip. He should fix this. He has to make sure Gran Torino knows that the past is past, and that his efforts haven’t been wasted on an ungrateful child. As Toshinori opens his mouth to reassure Torino, an urgent flicker of something calls out to him.

His head jerks to the door. Outside, down the hallway, in another room—

“He’s waking?”

Toshinori looks back to Torino, distractedly saying, “Yes,” before he freezes. Gran Torino has propped himself up halfway, teeth gritted with the effort it takes. He has reached out and clumsily pressed his hand against Toshinori’s forehead, fingers dipping into his hair.

It feels like a benediction.

“I am,” Torino forces out, “so proud of you. I could not be prouder. You were worth it, do you hear me, Toshinori? You are, still.”

The moment doesn’t last forever. Whatever burst of adrenaline fuels Torino, it dwindles with emotional vulnerability. He pats the top of Toshinori’s head and slumps back into his pillow, looking gray with exhaustion.

For his part, Toshinori stares, wide-eyed, like he’s fourteen years old again, meeting Gran Torino for the first time.

“Go,” says Torino. “Izuku shouldn’t wake up alone. He should have his family with him.”

There is a weak grin pulling at Torino’s mouth, familiar in its toothiness. Toshinori gets to his feet. He’s unable to return the smile, because he is suddenly terrified that if he leaves this room, Torino will somehow find a way to escape the hospital, hole up in his apartment, and—and—

“He’ll need you too,” says Toshinori. “Get better soon, tou—Torino-sensei.”

Gran Torino closes his eyes, and Yagi Toshinori moves on.

[sasorikigai]

“won’t you come with me..?” fingertips dare to coax seasoned warrior. tugging against the pads of his own, hands shifting to draw him that much nearer. the garb encasing curves is lax && hardly containing the porcelain beneath. && still yet, even as passion makes a home midst paradisal oculi && war has known her bones, she wishes only to be near. to take in his essence && drink deep the anguish if only to numb it. to rid him of his tribulations so that he might truly see her && no other. a somberness hovers ‘round heart for she knows well that look. the inner turmoil && a past once wished upon. so she is gentle, loving, nurturing. “come take a bath with me.. relax with me, my darling.” /for Hanzo!

Random Inbox Shenanigans || @soarae || always accepting! 

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || Pulchritudinous, breathtakingly so, the halcyon and magnificent fire which long blossomed in his heart had endured the cruel passing of time to conquer the crashing agony of his sempiternal nightmares. Sometimes, they haven’t gotten a face; baseless, boneless, blank, and bare, sometimes, Hanzo would hear the tormented spirits gasp and scream, oozing rivers of sanguine tears as Scorpion’s brevity would diverge in a clouding haze. He had been no more than an intangible spectre who conceded, when glory and honor left him and so did his rudimental identity. The vacantness of his heart put out to play. A carcass for a soul, seemingly eons, he had waited to meet the opening of the light, to face the uncertainty of his improbable redemption. He has found no shape, no form, no mask that could masquerade beyond Quan Chi’s puppet, as he had been ashen, spineless, and brittle, even with the aspects of wrath and vengeance fueling and suffocating his might and humanity simultaneously, in order to bring crimson-streaked hopeless annihilation. 

Hanzo Hasashi had been a dreamer with an intrepid warrior spirit and a heart of gold; the once-catastrophe of his personality had been negated, for his magnanimous flames had been long interlaced with the warmth of the autumn sun and the splendor of the Fire Gardens. Softly singing breezes tousle his onyx hair, and strands of strawberry-blonde kiss his rubicund cheek as his heart celebrates with the familiarity of undulating chaos after a therapeutic run. It brings him great bliss and pleasure. Hanzo may still indulge in the bloody violence of his ruminations, but they do not mar his subconscious as does in the nighttime. Without an ounce of unease and disguised hardness, the pyromancer welcomes the light of the immortal warrior upon his milieu, billowing in the zephyr of their shared breaths and ebb and flow of their hearts gently kiss in gossamer brushing. 

“How could I refuse such a proposal?” how Evangelique steadily and effortlessly slows the relentlessness of his busy life. Hanzo Hasashi would too often plunge himself in restlessness, because he has high propensity to exhaust himself beyond the threshold of his vigor and stamina in order to seek not only his own betterment, but of Shirai Ryu’s. The taut tenseness around his neck and shoulders manifest as a gentle fatigue, lest the pyromancer never reflects it on his frozen, gloomy and hardened countenance. “But my respite should be limited until the sunset. I could not fathom myself to give into relaxation when my hands are full as it is.” Concocted choreograph of the clan’s joint hapkido training continues to play in his head; like a reeled film, as the Grandmaster busied himself with training the handfuls of newly recruits and apprentices. He finds himself always trying, strenuously and rightfully so, but finds less satisfaction than imperfections here and there. ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || 

[smokedfires]

𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑:  chapter two–––– laura’s journal.

as the group talked about the journal and the drawings that had been ripped out brought him back to the last few nights he snuck into her room. she sat on her bed scribbling fiercely in that same book tessa brought down for the group to see. of course he never saw what was inside. he never asked about it other than the simple, "what are you doing?" as he hauled his body into her room.

tessa.

as they got settled onto the couches in tessa's basement, tessa couldn't help but be nervous. she cleared her throat. "i know i should've brought it up earlier, but i didn't want to use it unless we had to." she glanced at dylan, for support. "but dylan and i were looking through laura's journal and there were some entries that were... kind of disturbing. we think it might be another lead."

dylan.

dylan flashes tessa a reassuring look, noticing how nervous she was about telling the rest of the group about what they found. he picks up after her, pushing himself off the wall, "there were pictures of... well we don't know what it is but laura wrote that she had been seeing it in her dreams. i've never read any book or article that describes anything like this, so we're really just flying blind right now." dylan pauses, clearing his throat and letting the information sit with miles, jess and gabe before continuing, "and some pages were torn out. we have no idea where they are and i know it's a shot in the dark but finding them will be our best bet to finding her."

jess.

jess let dylan finish before speaking. "couldn't it just be something in laura's dreams? if there's no book or article or anything that talks about anything like this, how are you guys so sure it even really exists?" pausing for a moment, jess realized she was being a little harsh. "i'm up for looking into it, of course. any information we can get is better than not having it, but what about this makes you guys actually think it's a lead?"

dylan.

"anything we get is a lead." dylan states, letting everyone know that no rock could be left unturned. "i'm still looking into it. checking every book out in the library that i can so i can find answers— i called the university of washington this morning to see if any of the professors there know of anything like this. i'm hoping to get a call back soon."

tessa.

tessa knew where jess was coming from, and she knew that she was right.  "i don't know, jess, it sounds stupid, but something just feels wrong, i don't know how to explain it. she wouldn't have just left without a reason, and those drawings are the closest things we've got to find that reason. if anything, i just wanna find the pages that were torn out, maybe at least it'll give us an explanation even if we don't find her."

jess.

"okay, i trust you." tessa knew more about laura than anyone, except maybe miles, so if she felt that it was something worth looking into, jess believed it. "what about all the people that went missing? it might be a little insensitive, but what if we reached out to their families to see any of the others said anything about dreams, or this thing that laura wrote about?"

gabe.

he sat there, emotionless, across from tessa and dylan. there were many thoughts running through his head when he heard the news. first one being: why the hell didn't they give it to the police? gabe didn't want to show his frustration so for a couple of moments, he let jess go back and forth with the two of them until he couldn't he couldn't help but speak out. "where is it?" he paused, running a hand through his hair as he did his best to keep a calm demeanor. "can we see it?"

miles.

his knee bounced as he listened to the small group converse about the mysterious drawings they’d found in laura’s journal. he’d known about the findings from dylan a few days back and he was still passed that the two had kept this information to themselves for so long as if time wasn’t of the essence. “yeah, id love to see them— i mean, if it’s okay with you.” his heated gaze bounced back and forth from tessa to dylan and back again, trying to keep his feelings in check. an impossible task if you asked him.

tessa.

"of course," tessa finally answered, only the slightest hesitation in her voice. she was protective of it still— it contained laura's innermost thoughts— and part of her still hated that she looked through it in the first place. she goes back up to laura's room to retrieve the journal and returns to the basement, clutching it to her chest. "i folded the corners of the pages where she talks about... that thing." she flips open to a dog-eared page, and places it on the table for the rest of them to see laura's scribble of a drawing.

gabe.

the time the past between tessa walking up the stairs and eventually coming back down them was filled with silence. none of them knew what to say, especially gabriel who was biting his tongue in order to avoid a fight. if he started an argument now, it could potentially keep the other two from telling him anything else in the future, so that was not an option. when the journal came into his field of view, gabe leaned forward to get a better look. he didn't know what he expected. the pictures were very detailed, so much so that you could quite literally see the fear she felt as she drew them in there. he didn't stare for too long, not wanting that to be the image he saw whenever he closed his eyes after this. directing his attention to the group again, he sighed. "alright, i know you guys have an opinion on this..." the words were focused more towards dylan and tessa; there was no way they couldn't have seen this without coming up with a theory. "you don't know what it means but if you could guess, what do you think?"

jess.

although jess trusted tessa and dylan enough to follow along and help them as needed, part of her was still curious about what it was they were looking for, so as gabe leaned back, jess leaned forward to glance at the drawings. she didn't think there was any chance a drawing could have that much of an impact on anyone, but the moment she saw what it was, jess stood up and moved away from the table, as if whatever was drawn was going to come out of the book. suddenly feeling slightly unsettled, jess crossed her arms over her chest and waited in silence for dylan to explain what his theory was; she knew he had one.

dylan.

dylan notices the way they react to the drawings, it's surprising considering gabe and jess didn't believe in things like that. getting the hint that they wanted to hear his theory, he wastes no time into rolling out the chalkboard that he had in tessa's basement out into the center of the room. he turns it over so that they could see all the writing on it along with some book pages and drawings that were mask tape'd on. "i don't have anything solid. yet." he takes the piece of chalk that's been sitting in his back pocket out, using it as a pointer so he could further™ explain what he had so far. "it's not a ghost, i know that for sure. ghosts don't harm people. poltergeists, ghouls and demons on the other hand ..."  he knows he's treading in dangerous waters with his words since one, he doesn't want tessa to think of the worse and two, the rest of the group were die hard skeptics and are more likely than not not believing a word he's saying. " ... and it's not a creature like mothman, bigfoot or the goatman.  i don't know what it is but i do know that it was communicating with laura through her dreams. like freddy krueger... " he whispers the last part to himself, for a quick second dwelling on the thought of his friend being terrorized by a guy with knives for fingers.  "whatever the case, these drawings are the closest and only thing we have to figuring out what the lore is. i'm one hundred percent sure the torn out pages have all if not most of the information we need."

jess.

jess bit down on her bottom lip in a lame attempt to stop herself from smiling as dylan explained. while she didn't totally buy anything he was saying, somewhere along the way his theories had gone from annoyingly idiotic to surprisingly endearing. "alright. so how are we gonna find them?" she turned her attention to tessa, "have you looked through the rest of her things? does she have any bags, like a backpack or purse, that she would put them in? or anywhere else they'd be?"

tessa.

besides the fact that tess couldn't fathom how or when dylan brought that chalkboard down, everything he said made sense. "i've looked everywhere— her bags, pockets of her coats, even old hiding places she used to have around the house. to be honest, with how i tore her room apart when i first came back, those torn out pages should've been the first thing i found. but they're certainly not anywhere here." she wanted to make sure she reassured jess, considering what she was going to ask of them. "the only other place they could be, i think, is in her car. but she took that with her. so i think we have to go find her car. i just have a feeling it's there, it's the only thing that makes sense to me."

gabe.

"speaking of making sense..." his gaze went from tessa and back to dylan. gabe was still amused by the fact that the kid had a loaded up chalk board randomly lying around, ready to pull out at any given moment, and there was a hint of a smirk on his lips because of it but he had to stay as serious as possible. "poltergeists, ghouls? demons?" he wasn't about to be that person who experienced supernatural activity first hand, as he did during their camping trip, and pretend like it wasn't a possibly. however, before they went there, they needed to take a more realistic approach. there was a much better chance that the thing in laura's dreams weren't freddy krueger. "did you ever think that this was her way of coping? y'know... making the monsters into just that... monsters. it's easier to accept what they do when they're less human."

miles.

as he sat on the arm of the sofa, sulking in his own misery, miles suddenly remembered a few moments that looking back at now would have been warning signs. miles could count the number of times he used laura and tessa's front door on one hand. their parents never really taking a liking to him and he couldn't really blame them seeing how his family looked. he was just glad they had no clue how much worse it was on the other side of their door. climbing up the lattice and into her bedroom window was his means of entry in the nazari home. as the group talked about the journal and the drawings that had been ripped out brought him back to the last few nights he snuck into her room. she sat on her bed scribbling fiercely in that same book tessa brought down for the group to see. of course he never saw what was inside. he never asked about it other than the simple, "what are you doing?" as he hauled his body into her room. "so we find her car, we find the ripped out pages, and we find laura? that the plan?" he asked, more than a little irritation in his voice.

dylan.

"that could very much be a reasonable explanation,"  dylan says to gabe but not before adding, "but it doesn't feel right. the energy those drawings are giving off is enough to let us know that something's off." he really hopes that by some miracle, laura's car is found. the only downside about it is that they don't know what they're going to run into once it is. it could very much give them the answers they're looking for but it could also change the entire situation for the worst. catching the irritation in miles' voice, dylan makes sure to soften his demeanor "yeah. that's the plan." he makes a mental note to talk to his best friend later. alone. if they really want to find laura, miles is going to have to lighten up a little.

tessa.

the irritation in miles's voice stings, but part of her understands. that, despite things ending years ago, wouldn't she feel the same sense of entitlement if gabe had disappeared without a trace? she speaks up, "we know for sure she was at the goatman's bridge at some point, so we figured that our best bet for finding her car would be just checking the towns closest to the bridge."

gabe.

if there was something gabe could agree on here, it was that the first order of business is to find laura's car. the clues that it held inside of it would lead them straight to her... at least, that's what he's hoping for. "okay, so let's look at the map and mark all of the towns so we can figure out what we're working with." gabe stood up to get a better reach as he ruffled through all the papers on the coffee table, eventually pulling out a map of washington state at the bottom. "it's going to take a while for us to do it since there are only five—" the sound of frequency coming from his walkie talkie cut him off mid-sentence. it had been going off every so often since he got to the house, yet had gone unnoticed. by the urgency in the person's voice, gabe knew that it was different this time. this was an emergency. he started a path towards his backpack by jess, but wasn't fast enough. and the next words were spoken over the radio loud and clear for the other four to hear: we have a 11-24 on oak street. all units needed. over.

jess.

jess stood back as gabe got the map out, knowing they didn't need all five of them to mark up a map. she heard the tone shift from the walkie talkie before she realized gabe had stopped talking. the entire time they had been there, she had been half-listening to what was coming from it, on the off chance that something about laura came up. the second she saw gabe move, jess grabbed the walkie talkie out of his bag. "what's an 11-24, gabe?"

dylan.

"an 11-24 is code for abandoned vehicle," dylan doesn't give gabe the chance to answer, spitting the words out as soon as he hears jessica's question. "on oak street. that's in the next town, near the goatman's bridge. you guys this can't be a coincidence. an abandoned car found near where we found laura's walkman. we have to go check it out."

miles.

miles had stayed quiet through out all the commotion of gabes walkie going off until dylan clarified what a 11-24 actually was. standing up from the arm of the couch, miles turned to gabe, the only one who could actually confirm that was actually true. dyaln was a smart guy, but he wasn't a cop. he'd tuned out the sound of dylan's words as he waited to hear from the male who actually sported a badge until he heard laura's name. "wait gabe, is that true? we have to get there first or we'll never get a chance to see what's in her car and i'm not waiting to hear back from the sheriffs department." grabbing his jacket off the back of the couch, miles shrugged it on, he was going with or without them. though he did need a ride. there was no way he could skateboard all the way to oak street before the rest of the department got there.

jess.

the absolute last person that should be anywhere near laura's car was miles, one of the few suspects in her disappearance. it would only incriminate him if he was caught digging through her car right after the police found it. "wait, that's not a good idea. there's no way in hell we're going to beat the police there. they're already there, or else no one would've called it in. we're not getting her stuff before them, we're just not. also, we would have to break into her car, which would just make it look like someone was trying to clear out her car before the police got to it, which makes them look like a suspect. " she shot a glance at gabe, "luckily we have an in at the station."

miles.

rolling his eyes at jess' words which were one hundred percent correct, miles was clearly impatient and tired of waiting for gabe to do everything for them. "is that what we're calling it? an in?" he knew he was being a prick, but it wasn't too far off from how he usually carried himself. the only person that really got to see the more vulnerable side of miles was laura. dylan was another exception, but he had no problem being a dick to his best friend. he was already a suspect for laura's disappearance and he didn't need them to have anything else to stack against him, no matter how badly he wanted to find her and bring her home safe. letting out a breath that held his reservations for leaving this up to gabe again, miles pulled a hand through his hair, resting back against the couch. "so where do we go from here?"

dylan.

"we go to oak street." none of them could risk losing time by waiting for the police to get there and then not get the answers they needed. they were looking for more evidence on the shadow monster while the bellmount police department was looking for evidence to link miles to the disappearance. things weren't going to look good for them or miles if the police got there first. "i'm sorry jess, but this might be the only chance we get to look through laura's car before it's been tampered with."

tessa.

“jess is right,” tessa finally said. as eager as she had been to find laura’s car, they had to be sensible about this. “that walke talkie’s been murmuring in the background this whole time. we’d just be wasting our time trying to make a trip there.” tess glanced at gabe. “it’s all you, gabe.”

gabe.

he'd been avoiding miles' questions and the looks from everyone else in the room but once tessa put him on the spot, he couldn't escape it anymore. at first, gabe wanted to mention that the newfound car might not even be laura's and that it could be another case he was being called in for. although, he knew it would only do harm. the truth was too obvious and they were smart, it would only cause a disagreement. and besides, pretending like they weren't about to be faced with one of the biggest problems wasn't fair to them. instead, he did what he usually does and turned a bad idea down for good reason. "you can't go... they'll know i told you and take me off the case." throwing his bag over his shoulder, he tried an idea with a different approach. "i have to go, i have to see what they found in her car. and maybe i can snatch any loose papers i find. can you guys give me a head start and meet me there? then i'll hand them over to you without them noticing. if i wait until they're handed over for evidence, we'll be waiting months to see them. you can say you were driving through town and stopped to see what was going on. a coincidence never hurt anyone, right?"

miles.

dylan's want to beat the cops to laura's car hadn't come as a surprise to miles. the guy was a go getter and was all about putting clues together and solving the many mysteries the world had to offer him. for that, miles was grateful. tessa's resistance was however, a surprise. he'd thought she wanted to find her sister almost as much as he had and playing the sit and wait game clearly wasn't working, but for whatever reason, she would rather wait. probably has more to do with gabe than laura, he thought bitterly in the back of his mind as he sat silently, waiting while the group conversed in front of him. it wasn't that miles didn't trust gabe per say, he just wasn't going to hold his breath that the guy was going to get the job done. he didn't think it was a lack of trying, but more so a fear of getting caught. this was about laura and since she disappeared and he was labeled a suspect, miles has had to rely on others, something he was not the best at. "i guess i can live with that compromise."

dylan.

dylan wasn't even upset that they hadn't sided with him, he knew he probably wasn't thinking things through properly and if tessa out of all people wanted to wait it out, then he had no problem with that. nodding, dylan returns the piece of chalk back into his pocket. "okay, we'll meet you there." he tells gabe firmly, ready for him to get the head start.

tessa.

the four of them roll up in dylan’s car. there’s a horde of cop cars surrounding a street, but tessa’s only looking for laura’s car. “where’s gabe?” she was able to be patient when it counted, but now that they’re here, she wants to jump out of the car. “he’ll never be able to get this far to give anything he finds to us. some of us have to go and meet him halfway.” tess places a hand on the handle, ready to volunteer as soon as someone agrees with her.

dylan.

dylan parks on the side of the street, looking in the direction of were all the cop cars were and he almost begins to worry that gabe didn't make it in time. "he's over there." he sees him talking to his dad and dylan points to where they are. "i'll go with you," he volunteers, unlatching the seatbelt and getting out of his truck. "we'll be back." flashing jess a small smile, he walks around to meet with tessa before walking over to where gabe was; his dad now gone.  "was it her car? did you find the missing pages?" he asks once they're close enough.

gabe.

it wasn’t too difficult to worm his way through the scene when he first got there. he avoided his father completely and reached a few other officers who updated him with the following information: the car matched the description of laura’s, it had the same license plate, and a wallet with an id that confirmed that this car really was hers. gabe explained that he was assigned to the missing person’s case in bellmount and that he knew the owner well enough that if he looked through the car he might find something of importance. luckily, they let him into it immediately. there was another cop looking inside the trunk, gloves and all, searching for blood or any sign of a struggle. he was going to let them search for a cause and until they found it, he was on a mission to find ripped out pages from a journal. starting with the passenger’s side, gabe checked the glove compartment. only to be met with a bunch of cassettes, that must have gone with the walkman from goatman’s bridge, and a few polaroids of laura and her family. he moved below the seat, seeing if the pages could have slipped underneath. much to his dismay, all he saw was a jacket of laura’s that he recognized and some loose change. nothing. it shouldn’t be this hard, but it was as if he was trying to put together a bunch of pieces that were from two separate puzzles. as he moved around the car to get to the back, he heard the whispers of other officers. i’ve seen this before, one of guys from bellmount said. which sent the others into a very quiet frenzy. what do you mean? where have you seen it? they questioned the man and he didn’t answer. instead, he ran to his cruiser. gabe bent down into laura’s backseat and watched with suspicion as he came jogging back with pictures in his hand. whatever, it was probably pointless and if they needed gabe, they would call for him so he continued on.

after tossing a few of laura’s possessions around, there was something on the floor that caught his eye. crumpled up papers. he lunged forward, refraining from reading the words on the page and slipping them into the long sleeves of his shirt. once he had what he wanted, gabe jumped out of the car and steadily approached his dad and the rest of bellmount’s team. “what’s that?” he asked the sheriff, pointing to the hat inside an evidence bag he was holding. 

“oh, come on, son. wasn’t a hat the first thing your mother and i taught you? i swear when you were two we taught you hat, cat, mom, dad—”

 but, gabe cut him off, “dad.” 

“it’s the boyfriend’s hat, gabriel. it’s evidence.” 

“how is this evidence? he was her boyfriend. his hat is going to be in her car, no?” he wasn’t freaking out yet and he wasn’t going to until his dad made sense of this. 

“this is the same hat we have pictured in his room… two weeks after she was reported missing. so tell me, how did your friend’s hat magically get into her car after a month of being missing?” he was speechless. for so long, gabe tried to defend miles against the department. this, however, wasn’t sounding so good. “speak of the devils,” sheriff cortez raised his eyebrows, motioning towards dylan and tessa who were on their way over to him, and then turned to walk away.

unlike before, gabe was now excruciatingly nervous. there was evidence stuffed in his clothing that could get him fired and new incriminating evidence that could frame miles for laura’s disappearance. he had to tell the group and he was going to as soon as they were alone. good, that was just another reason to fire him. “yeah, it’s her car,” he replied to dylan and watched as the cops were beginning to close the road. “and we found a lot more than missing pages.”

tessa.

the sight of laura’s car makes tessa sick. if they’d never found anything, tess could believe laura had gotten herself a new life somewhere; now the only thing she knew was laura was out there, cold and wandering all by herself. she nods meekly towards gabe’s father, and before she can even think about what he must think of her now, she’s too overwhelmed by what gabe says. “what else did you find?”

gabe.

there were too many people surrounding him for gabe to answer that question. the scene was swarming with cops and bystanders who wanted to know what all the commotion was about, someone was bound to hear them. "it's about miles," he leans in closer to them and whispers. "they found evidence in her car. if he wasn't in trouble before, he sure is now."

miles.

miles was getting impatient. he could see tessa and dylan talking with gabe, but it was not knowing what they were saying that was forcing his knee to bounce as he sat in the back seat. "fuck it, i'm going too." he didn't give jess a chance to stop him which he was sure she would try to. jumping out of the truck, miles stuffed his hands in his warn denim jacket and crossed the street to where his friends stood huddled close. he saw her car before he was in ear shot of the group. something about seeing her car sent a wave of hope followed by one of devastation through him. laura didn't have her car. she was somewhere without her car and that small fact drastically lessened their chances of finding her alive. upon hearing his name, miles closed the gap between them, staring pointedly at gabe. "what'd i do now?"

dylan.

the news completely blindsides dylan and the plans for the group. they've been wanting to pin it on miles for so long and now that they have actual, physical evidence to tie him to the crime— it was going to be hard to get him out of it.  and as if on cue, miles joins them and dylan let's out a concerned sigh.  "they found evidence in her car, miles they're going to pin this on you." he tells him, very concerned for what's going to happen to his best friend.  "where are the missing pages?"

tessa.

"what evidence could they possibly have that actually incriminates miles?" tessa can't believe this is actually happening, that the cops are just going to pin it on miles. it angers her that they're cutting corners with their job. she's lucky she has people in her life who are willing to help her find the truth but she can't help but think about other cases like hers, where people can only accept what the cops tell them; how the family of that little girl they found near the bridge didn't even have a body to bury because no one was looking hard enough.

gabe.

as soon as miles joined the circle, gabe began to panic. he was doing his best to use his body as a shield from the other officers yet he was aware that because of all the people, he would ultimately be spotted. dylan and tessa’s voices were drowned out as he scanned the surrounding, hoping to find where ever it was his dad walked off to. if anyone would have the pleasure of putting handcuffs on miles, it'd be the sheriff. “you guys have to get him out of here,” he instructed, turning to face the three of them again. “what they found isn’t that strong of evidence but it’s enough to arrest him right now and keep him in the interrogation room for seventy two hours until they can twist his words and get a false confession.”

dylan.

dylan is quick to jump into action, wanting to get miles out of here as soon as possible before any of the cops found out he was here. laura and the missing pages were a subject to be talked about later; right now it was important for them to leave. nodding, he motions for miles to follow, "act normal. don't make eye contact." he tells him, but the advice is short lived as they're stopped by one of the officers as soon as they begin to walk away from gabe and tessa. "miles baker?" fuck, dylan thinks to himself, already knowing what's going to happen next and not being able to do anything about it. "you're under arrest for the disappearance of laura nazari."

miles.

the way the day was playing out hadn't surprised miles even the slightest. he was used to being the one to blame and now wasn't an exception. his dad was a piece of shit and everyone assumed miles was the same, a piece of trash that would never make anything of himself. he was easy to blame and now that they found evidence linked to him in laura's car, they didn't need much else to label him an actual suspect. of course dylan would try to sneak him away, but he'd known it was already too late. he barely even blinked when the officer approached them and announced that they were taking him into the station. the cop wasted no time rounding him and cuffing his wrists behind his back. miles looked around at his friends before he was shoved in the direction of the patrol car.

tessa.

she saw the officer moving towards miles and dylan, but it was too late, and suddenly everything was happening too fast. "wait," she made a move to go closer, but the sight of miles in handcuffs made her feel sick. tessa turned to gabe. "gabe, they can't just arrest him. you said yourself the evidence is flimsy at best. they haven't even told him his rights!"  she wanted him to do something, but she didn't know what there was to do. things were happening too fast and they needed time to think. she walked quickly to where miles was being shoved in the car. "miles, don't tell them anything, just don't say anything at all. the rest of us will figure something out, we just need you to give us time."

jess.

growing impatient, how long does it take to get a couple pieces of paper from gabe?, jess hopped out of the truck and headed over to see what was going on. she caught the tail end of the conversation and watched in silence as miles was handcuffed and led away. as the rest of the cops left them for miles, jess turned to focus on gabe. "did you at least get the journal pages?" she asked. there was nothing they could do about miles now, but laura was still missing. if nothing else, finding her would clear miles' name.

gabe.

he shook his head and opened his mouth to speak, but gabe didn't have the right answer for tessa. being stuck between his job and the people he cared about was a terrible place to be. and yet, it still beat being where miles was going to be— in the back of a cop car— which he was about to do everything in his power to stop from happening. tessa had already run off to where miles was, so he didn't get the chance to devise a plan. luckily, jess joined him, giving him enough time to stall and try to think of his next move. "i got them. here," gabe took jess' hand in his own in order to discreetly slip the pages into her sleeve. "now, come on," he then lead her to where the police were waiting to take their prime suspect away. "you can't arrest him for this! who are you taking orders from? who told you to do this?" questioning one of his colleagues in an angry state of mind was never going to end the way he wanted it to. however, it's what resulted from the heat of the moment. "the same guy who gave you the job you're not qualified for," the officer calmly responded and added a quick see you at the station before proceeding to get into the driver's seat.

[rsetton]

Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit, Jeanette Winterson

“What could I do? My needlework teacher suffered from a problem of vision. She recognised things according to expectation and environment. If you were in a particular place, you expected to see particular things. Sheep and hills, sea and fish; if there was an elephant in the supermarket, she’d either not see it at all, or call it Mrs Jones and talk about fishcakes. But most likely, she’d dow what most people do when confronted with something they don’t understand: Panic.”

“What constitutes a problem is not the thing, or the environment where we find the thing, but the conjunction of the two; something unexpected in a usual place... or something usual in an unexpected place...”

“She was an absolutist, and had no time for people who thought cows didn’t exist unless you looked at them. Once a thing was created, it was valid for all time. Its value went not up nor down... It meant that to create was a fundament, to appreciate, a supplement. Once created, the creature was separate from the creator, and needed no seconding to fully exist.”

“Round and round he walked, and so learned a very valuable thing: that no emotion is the final one.”

“In the library I felt better, words you could trust and look at till you understood them, they couldn’t change half way through a sentence like people, so it was easier to spot a lie.”

“Slowly I closed the book. It was clear that I had stumbled on a terrible conspiracy.

There are women in the world. 

There are men in the world.

And there are beasts.”

“...but that is the way with stories; we make them what we will. It’s a way of explaining the universe while leaving the universe unexplained, it’s a way of keeping it all alive, not boxing it into time. Everyone who tells a story tells it differently, just to remind us that everybody sees it differently. Some people say there are true things to be found, some people say all kinds of things can be proved. I don’t believe them. The only thing for certain is how complicated it all is, like string full of knots. It’s all there but hard to find the beginning and impossible to fathom the end. The best you can do is admire the cat’s cradle, and maybe knot it up a bit more. History should be hammock for swinging and a game for playing, the way cats play. Claw it, chew it, rearrange it and at bedtime it’s still a ball of string full of knots.”

“At one time or another there will be a choice; you or the wall.

Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall.

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

The City of Lost Chances is full of those who chose the wall. 

All the king’s horses and all the king’s men.

Couldn’t put Humpty together again.

Then is it necessary to wander unprotected through the land? 

It is necessary to distinguish the chalk circle from the stone wall.

Is it necessary to live without a home?

It is necessary to distinguish physics from metaphysics.

Yet many of the principles are the same.

They are, but in the cities of the interior all things are changed. 

A wall for the body, a circle for the soul.”

“Of course people will laugh at you, but people laugh at a great many things, so there’s no need to take it personally.”

“It is not possible to control the outside of yourself until you have mastered your breathings pace. It is not possible to change anything until you understand the substance you wish to change.”

“No guarantee of shore. Only a conviction that what she wanted could exist, if she dared to find it.”

“‘When did you last see your mother?’ someone asked me. Someone who was walking with me in the city. I didn’t want to tell her; I thought in this city, a past was precisely that. Past. Why do I have to remember? In the old world, anyone could be a new creation, the past was washed away. Why should the new world be so inquisitive?

‘Don’t you ever think of going back?’

Silly question. There are threads that help you find your way back, and there are threads that intend to bring you back. Mind turns to the pull, it’s hard to pull away. I’m always thinking of going back. When Lot’s wife looked over her shoulder, she turned into a pillar of salt. Pillars hold things up, and salt keeps things clean, but it’s a poor exchange for losing yourself. People do go back, but they don’t survive, because two realities are claiming them at the same time. Such things are too much. You can salt your heart, or kill your heart, or you can choose between the two realities. There is much pain here. Some people think you can have your cake and eat it. The cake goes mouldy and they choke on what’s left. Going back after a long time will make you mad, because the people you left behind do not like to think of you changed, will treat you as they always did,accuse you of being indifferent, when you are only different.

‘When did you last see your mother?’

‘I don’t know how to answer. I know what I think, but words in the head are like voices under water. They are distorted. Hearing the words as they hit the surface is sensitive work. You will have to be a bank robber and listen and listen to the little clicks before you can open the safe.

‘What would have happened if you had stayed?’

I could have been a priest instead of a prophet. The priest has a book with the words set out. Old words, known words, words of power. Words that are always on the surface. Words for every occasion. The words work. They do what they’re supposed to do; comfort and discipline. The prophet has no book. The prophet is a voice that cries in the wilderness, full of sounds that do not always set into meaning. The prophets cry out because they are troubled by demons.

This ancient city is made of stone and stone walls that have not fallen yet. Like paradise it is bounded by rivers, and contains fabulous beasts. Most of them have heads. If you drink from the wells, and there are many, you might live forever, but there is no guarantee you will live forever as you are. You might mutate. The waters might not agree with you. They don’t tell you this. I came to this city to escape. This city is full of towers to climb and climb, and to climb faster and faster, marveling at the design and dreaming of the view from the top. At the top there is a keen wind and everything is so far away it’s impossible to say what is what. There is no one to discuss it with. Cats can count on the fire brigade, and Rapunzel was lucky with her hair. Wouldn’t it be nice to sit on the ground again? I came to this city to escape.

If the demons lie within they travel with you.

Everyone thinks their own situation most tragic. I am no exception.”

“She didn’t know who I was, and I didn’t want to talk about it. I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever been anywhere. My mother was treating me like she always had; had she noticed my absence? Did she even remember why I’d left? I have a theory that every time you make an important choice, the part of you left behind continues the other life you could have had. Some people’s emanations are very strong, some people create themselves afresh outside of their own body. This is not fancy. If a potter has an idea, she makes it into a pot., and it exists beyond her, in its own separate life. She uses a physical substance to display her thoughts. If I use a metaphysical substance to display my thoughts, I might be anywhere at  one time, influence a number of different things, just as the potter and her pottery can exert influence in different places. There’s a chance that I’m not here at all, that all the parts of me, running along all the choices I did and didn’t make, for a moment brush against each other. That I am still an evangelist in the North, as well as the person who ran away. Perhaps for a while these two selves have become confused. I have not gone forward or back in time, but across in time, to something I might have been, playing itself out.”

“As it is, I can’t settle, I want someone who is fierce and will love me until death and know that love is as strong as death, and be on my side for ever and ever. I want someone who will destroy and be destroyed by me. There are many forms of love and affection, some people can spend their whole lives together without knowing each other’s names. Naming is a difficult and time-consuming process; it concerns essences, and it means power. But on the wild nights who can call you home? Only the one who knows your name. Romantic love has been diluted into paperback form and has sold thousands and millions of copies. Somewhere it is still in the original, written on tablets of stone. I would cross seas and suffer sunstroke and give away all I have, but not for a man, because they want to be the destroyer and never the destroyed. That is why they are unfit for romantic love. There are exceptions and I hope they are happy.”

“The unknownness of my needs frightens me. I do not know how huge they are, or how high they are, I only know that they are not being met. If you want to find out the circumference of an oil drop, you can use lycopodium powder. That’s what I’ll find. A tub of lycopodium powder, and I will sprinkle it on to my needs and find out how large they are. Then when I meet someone I can write up the experiment and show them what they have to take on. Except they might have a growth rate I can’t measure, or they might mutate, or even disappear.”

“Time is a great deadener; people forget, get bored, grow old, go away.”

“I thought about the dog and was suddenly very sad; sad for her death, for my death, for all the inevitable dying that comes with change. There’s no choice that doesn’t mean a loss. But the dog was buried in the clean earth, and the things I had buried where exhuming themselves; clammy fears and dangerous thoughts and the shadows I had put away for a more convenient time. I could not put them away forever, there is always a day of reckoning. But not all dark places need light, I have to remember that.”

[hauteseeker]

Seven days in the Southwest solo. How can I describe my experience?

Unexpected. Exhilarating. Fulfilling.

There is so much to cover, so I am breaking down my time spent between the two different states and ten various cities that I visited in two parts.

Let me first start off the introduction to New Mexico by saying this; God made this area. You can see it in the landscape. It’s hard to be in this part of the country and not fathom that a higher power created such a beautiful scenery. My three-day stay in Santa Fe also consisted of travel through the cities of Albuquerque, Madrid, Cuerellos, Abiquqi, and Ojo. During my stay in New Mexico, I was able to experience various parts of this unique ecosystem along with art, people, and individual towns that are indeed one of a kind.

Day One: Albuquerque

The official day of my road trip started on Wednesday, October 10th. I took a late flight out the Tuesday before with the goal of arriving at a decent hour to my Airbnb in Albuquerque. That was not the case. I got about 4 hours sleep at the Airbnb( which was a waste of money) and quickly had to make my way to the festival grounds in time enough to catch a balloon ride.

Let’s backtrack just a little. I went to Albuquerque to attend the International Balloon Fiesta. I stumbled across the festival a couple of years ago and thought it looked amazing and knew I some point in my life I just had to go. It is recommended to get to the fairgrounds early. I didn’t realize I how soon until I hit the entrance. Boom. Traffic. I knew I was not going to let the lack of a ride ruin my trip when my goal was just to be apart of the unique experience anyways.

Waking up at the crack of down to see beautiful balloons rise to the skies was fantastic. During my time there I met some wonderful characters who had a long-standing history with the fiesta. One older woman shared some incredible insight with me. “What other sport in the world can you find that an any and everyone can participate in,” she said. It was true! Men, women, young, old, were walking the festival grounds, refereeing the balloons, and even navigating them that day.

Even though I did not make it into a hot air balloon, just being there was totally worth it. My biggest advice when attending this event is for sure to dress in layers. It is a bit cold that early in the morning in the area. You should also stay a couple of days for the festival if they can, at least one additional day to attend evening events, as well as explore other parts of Albuquerque.

After the balloon fiesta, I had plenty of time to kill before my Airbnb stay in Santa Fe, so I decided to drive the scenic route of Old Route 66 and the Turquoise Trail. The trail is a 50-mile drive along Highway 14 that encompasses small mining towns, authentic restaurants, and eccentric art communities. My first stop was in the city of Madrid. An older artsy community full of land art, small boutiques, and of course, turquoise jewelry. When visiting this town, be sure to stop at some of my favorite little shops:

Shugarman Little Chocolate Shop

Connie’s Photo Park

Ghost Town Trading Post

Jezebel Glass Studio and Sculpture Garden & Soda Fountain

Collaboration

Crystal Dragon

Next, I stopped at the tiny, almost ghost town of Cerrillos. Stop by the Casa Grande Trading Post Museum and Petting Zoo for low-priced raw turquoise and other jewels and gems, One of the last stops where you can find the unique gems for a really good deal before entering Santa Fe. Before departing the town of Cerrillos, I made my way to a saloon and bar with a modern take called Black Bird, a very modern restaurant compared to the others I had seen along the trail. I met the owner and indulged in a delicious Angus burger called the ‘Black Jack Ketchum’, topped with a gun-powder rub, gouda cheese, onion, cilantro, bandit sauce which was some smokey flavor that reminded me of almost a sloppy joe type of taste all served on a kaiser roll. The perfect meal to keep me moving on my way to Santa Fe.

The ride through the Turquoise trail was amazing. I was I had one of those Google cars so I could have had a video of the area around me. It was amazing! So much land art, random bits of it everywhere. If you have time, be sure to stop by the After a long day one, I decided to grab some fast-food grub and chill out the rest of the evening at my cozy Airbnb residence.

Day 2: Ojo and Santa Fe

Day two of my trip kicked off pretty early. I had a spa appointment North of Santa Fe. Before hitting the road I Yelped a spot to grab a quick breakfast burrito. I learned, unlike maybe Chicago’s brunch only burritos, that the compact version in New Mexico is an everyday “thing” there. I stopped at El Chile Toreado and grabbed a breakfast burrito full of mixed meats(polish sausage, chorizo, and bacon) along with potatoes, cheese, and peppers. It was simple and fantastic.

About an hour outside of Santa Fe is Ojo Caliente and it’s well known natural hot springs. The springs at Ojo Caliente feature the only hot springs in the world with four different types of mineral water. The spa waters range between 80 – 109 degrees and are sulfur free. Before diving into the enchanted waters, I first indulged in a lovely spa service. My services included a included a 50-minute Essence of Ojo Custom Massage, a Native American Blue Corn and Prickly Pear Salt Scrub, and reflexology foot therapy all performed by Chris, my therapist for the day. After my fantastic treatment, I made my way to the hot springs and spent the remainder of the afternoon soaking and savoring the majestic surrondings.

Before making my way into the city of Santa Fe, I took a brief detour to the Santa Fe Opera House. Unfortunately, it wasn’t open, but I managed to find a way in and peruse the grounds. The space is absolutely beautiful, I can only imagine what it would be like to attend a play or show here. Also, the views from the opera house on the lustrous hilltop neighborhood are awesome to take in as well.

I made my way back into to town to grab a quick nap and conduct my next moves for the evening. In New Mexico, the traditional and notorious eats contain chile peppers. They are literally everywhere you go. For dinner, I made my way to La Choza, a favorite among locals for its traditional New Mexican cuisine. For dinner at this colorful and casual eatery, I chose the combination plate, which contained a blue corn burrito, carne adovada, and chile relleno, served “Christmas style”( red and green chile). It came with side pinto beans, posole( hominy never had it, but it was great), lettuce and tomato with a side of Sopilla, a puffed bread that essential soaks up the heavy chile sauce. It can also be enjoyed plain or with honey as well. The summary of this dish was heavy and very, very spicy. If you don’t like spicey, get the chile sauce on the side.

During dinner and over a separate drink at a hotel, I had the pleasure of meeting two very interesting fellow travelers. One was a teacher from Indianapolis who used to live in the Chicago area, the other, a producer from L.A in town working on a film, who I met at the trendy LA Posada Hotel during a nightcap. It’s amazing the type of people you can meet over food and drinks when traveling solo. During our conversations, we talked family, creative careers, and of course, Chicago. A great way to conclude my second day in Santa Fe.

  Day 3: Santa Fe

My third day in New Mexico was spent seeking out the art scene in Santa Fe. The first stop was a tour of Museum Hill, a combination of five different museums. I made my way to three, International Folk Art, Museum of Indian Art and Culture, and The Wheelwright Museum of American Indian. Each offered its own unique aspect of history and relevance to the New Mexico area. My favorite out of all three had to be the International Folk Art Museum. It was definitely the most culturally mesmerizing and relatable space that I have ever been too! The museum featured everything from a special exhibition on Tramp Art to global Folk Art in all of its various forms.

After hopping to various museums, I made my way back into the center of town to check out some the iconic Canyon Road and its many galleries along with The Plaza. Canyon Road has 40+ galleries that feature both local and global artists. My favorite was the contemporary ones that featured distinctive and conversational pieces. Some of my favorites that are worth checking out are:

Intrigue Gallery

Corazon

Rockaway Opals 

Santa Kilm

Turner Carroll Gallery

Jim McLain

Mark White Fine Art

McCall Fine Art 

Canyon Road Contemporary 

Pippin Contemporary

Dark Bird Place

Poetic Threads

Robert Nichols Gallery

While along the Plaza, be sure to not only to check out the higher end shops for inspiration but definitely barter for handmade goods with local merchants who hang out outside of the shops at as well. Get a little dose of architecture by checking out the historical churches, Loretto Chapel( climb the staircase if you can I did not have a chance to) and the Cathedral Bascialla of St. Francis Assisi.

  I needed to refuel before making my way to Meow Wolf, so I had dinner in the neighborhood at a spot called tune-up cafe, recommended by my Airbnb host. Tune-up Cafe is a modern take on New Mexican style food. While there, I dined al fresco and watched the sunset on a truly beautiful day and took in my surroundings. The restaurant was full of young families and couples that were composed of a more hipster-ish crowd.

For dinner, I decided to try out their version of Chile Relleno. I had read the reviews beforehand and noticed and just had to try the El Salvadoran Pupusa as an appetizer. I went for the steak flank as a filler.This was my first time having the pupusa and it was fantastic. Light and flakey in taste with killer filling. The steak was well seasoned and contained just enough spice. My main dish of chile relleno was also very good. It was hearty but not too heavy. Very well seasoned and just enough to keep me full as I made my way to my next destination.

Meow Wolf was a completely unexpected experience. It is something that a person has to try out for themselves to get the full experience. It’s one of that artistic endeavors that is made for any and everyone to understand and participate in. No need for Master level analysis, its really about immersing yourself into the art itself. Be sure to check the events calendar for Meow Wolf, as they constantly have some form of live entertainment happening weekly.  While I was there, I had the chance to vibe out with the locals and enjoy some West Coast Hip-Hop artists from around the area, such as Zion I, Wakeself, DJ Element, and Def-i, whose lyrics touched on everything from love and unity to racial injustice and Indigenous oppression.

It was by far my favorite part of the trip and a great way to end my last night in Santa Fe.

Many people questioned me about my trip to New Mexico. “Who goes there?” ” There won’t be any black people there” What’s there?” “You are going along.” All of these questions came to mind as well for me, as well as “who cares?” The whole point of traveling is to experience places you never knew existed. It was an escape from my current reality. It was a look into someone else’s reality. It was a taste of a reality that includes happiness and fulfillment, something that I am still seeking.

Getting to that point of living my best life takes some self-evaluation. During part one of my Southwest trip, I addressed some of the things I have lost sight of. One was realizing how important my independent is and how is. I’ve become attached to certain people I’ve met since living and Chicago and that attachment has made me very comfortable. Being comfortable has made me complacent, a little lazy, and stuck. No more of that. This trip also made me recognize how much I love planning and researching, and if I can do this for myself, I can do it in a career. It affirmed how easily it is for me to strike conversations with people and throw bashfulness to the wind. It reminded me that I cannot depend on other people to bring me happiness or fulfillment.

It reminded me that I have to continue on to my next journey, and not get distracted by dumb stuff. No matter how attractive it looks from a distance, I have to make it to my next stop.

  Albuquerque to Phoenix: Seven Days Seeking the Southwest Pt.1 Seven days in the Southwest solo. How can I describe my experience? Unexpected. Exhilarating. Fulfilling. There is so much to cover, so I am breaking down my time spent between the two different states and ten various cities that I visited in two parts.