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lisired · 9 months

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ex marks the spot

pairing: ex!mark x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, a pinch of angst, mystery, exes to lovers, (mentions of) characters death, graphic descriptions of violence and murder, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, oral (m/f)

summary: Two months ago, you and Mark called it quits and haven’t spoken to each other since. As per tradition, your respective friend groups gather each Christmas eve to keep the peace, but this year somebody has a different plan. And the new chick on Mark’s arm isn’t the worst thing to happen.

wc: 19.9k

author’s note: (this is a repost!) nothing like a christmas mystery lol. partly inspired by honey lavender by ieuan. as always, feedback is appreciated!

Distractions, you chanted to yourself, desperate to think about literally anything other than your many problems.

A tall window overlooked the entire city, as far as you were concerned. Nightfall had taken over and the bustling streets were caked in thick clunks of snow. Pressing your fingertips against the glass, you could feel relentless winter.

None of it did anything to soothe the white hot envy scorching its way down your throat. Across the room, there was a blonde girl on Mark’s arm, snuggling against his chest and sucking up all of his warmth.

That should’ve been you, but you would never admit to yourself (or anyone) that you were jealous of her. You had way too much pride for a silly thing like that. Of course, Mark had never brought a girl to one of these events before, and you had an inkling it was solely to make you jealous. You couldn’t let him win.

“This is my friend Jodie,” Mark had introduced the girl hanging on his every word like a lovestruck teenager, but noting how close they kept to each other amongst many other things, it was safe to assume they were more than friends.

Less than lovers, probably, but undeniably more than friends.

Johnny, the man of the hour, came floating your way with the grace of a butterfly and said, “Damn. You could just tell me if you’re hating the party.”

Your eyes flickered. “What?”

“You’re mad. It’s written all over your body language.” Then, he craned his head and whispered in your ear, “Have a drink and relax a little. Don’t let him know he’s getting to you.”

“He’s not getting to me,” you grumbled under your breath, but you knew that it was an obvious lie.

“If he’s not, then Jodie sure is. That’s what he wants. The whole reason he’s sucking her face off by the hearth is because he wants you to see.”

You knew that. Mark always wanted to be seen, to be acknowledged. His whole life was based on making people look at him, to which you were no exception. Your relationship consisted of him doing anything and everything necessary to grab your attention, but in all honesty, it didn’t take a whole lot.

You could never keep your eyes off Mark and he knew it. Wherever he went, he was the most radiant person in the room. He was a Leo to his fucking core.

Getting back in character, you straightened up your stance and threw Johnny a beaming smile. “It’s a wonderful party.”

Johnny grinned. “There she goes,” he said in his regular speaking voice, pleased at your new demeanor.

He was the master of all things body language and human psychology. He had been friends with you long enough to be confident that you’d never want your ex thinking for a second that he had one up on you. At least you knew somebody would always have your back. With Mark and his friends, you couldn’t help but watch it.

“Thanks,” you replied quietly, grateful he’d come get you together. And quickly at that.

“You’re my friend.”

“Mark’s your friend.”

“Yeah, but Mark’s a dickhead.”

You snickered. “Amen to that.”

Johnny was the middleman between you and Mark’s individual friend groups. After an incident dating back all the way to your senior year in high school, your former friend group of nine was split in two. You, Jeno, and Jaehyun on one side, with Mark, Chungha, Haechan, and Yuta on the other.

Johnny, the god of friendly relations that he was, managed to drift between both sides. Matter of fact, these parties of his were the whole reason you even saw the other side of the group every year. If it weren’t for Johnny wanting to maintain the peace, most of you would never be in the same room again for any purpose.

You took a glimpse around the party. It was being held in Johnny’s sumptuous two-floor penthouse this year after the outdoor disaster that was last year's Christmas eve reunion. To say the least, hypothermia had never seemed scarier.

Unsurprisingly, Mark still had his hands and mouth all over Jodie as they stood near the hearth, the fireplace decorated in limestone. Chungha was marveling at Johnny's case of precious stones and cabochon gems. Off to your right, Haechan had his face set in a scowl.

“Haechan looks happy to be here,” you quipped with total sarcasm.

Johnny didn’t even spare Haechan a glance, like he already knew what he’d see if he looked, and chuckled. “Yeah, we got into a tiny argument a few minutes back. He’ll be fine.”

That piqued your curiosity, but you didn’t press. Haechan always went looking for trouble and Johnny stopped it before it could even happen. Of course Haechan disliked that.

The elevator dinged, revealing a fashionably late Jeno. Johnny noticed and glanced at you, saying, “I’ve got to greet our favorite guest. Thanks for coming, by the way.”

You shot him an amused grin. “I came for you, but I’m staying for the margaritas.”

Johnny shook his head and laughed. After asking him to tell Jeno that you said hello, the two of you went your own separate ways.

For a little bit, you went to mingle, but you realized quickly that there weren’t a lot of people you were keen on having a conversation with. Jeno, your best friend, was with Johnny. That left Jaehyun, Johnny’s stepbrother, but you knew he preferred to be left alone.

Mark obviously wasn’t an option. Even if he knew you better than anyone in the room.

In spite of knowing you wouldn’t be there long, you made small talk with Jaehyun for a couple of minutes before he got an apparently urgent text message on his phone and excused himself apologetically.

To where, you had no fucking clue. This was your first time in Johnny’s penthouse regardless of how close you were. You spent very little time in the city and even less at your own home. It was a blessing you hadn’t missed one of these parties yet.

Maybe a curse. To be frank, you didn’t want to be here, but that had almost everything to do with Mark. Bringing Jodie along to an annual reunion for friends was low, even for him. But you kind of wished you had somebody to keep you company like he did.

You exhaled your feelings and pretended that they didn’t bother you. Your mother told you a long time ago that the only person you’d ever be able to depend on was yourself and though she had her own set of parenting complications, it was the best advice she’d ever given you.

Speaking of advice, Johnny’s was starting to appear way too appetizing and you made a beeline for the kitchen, slipping past Yuta who was apparently on the phone. Those infamous mango margaritas were calling your name.

When you entered the hallway, turning around the corner from the dining room, you almost immediately retreated. You almost told Johnny that you couldn’t be here for another minute. But Mark noticed you and it was too late. He would immediately know what was going on and take it as a surrender.

“Look who decided to come,” Mark said sharply, a greeting of his own in some twisted way. “I bet you were hoping to see a fruity cocktail.”

“Yes, and you’re standing in my way,” you spat, gesturing to the cabinets behind you.

Mark furrowed a brow. “You aren’t going to take one that’s already there?”

You looked at him like he had fifteen heads. Those could’ve easily been spiked with any substance. “Mark, half the people in this house hate each other. I love margaritas, but I love my life way more. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Mark scooted out of your way, though only because he knew the bounds of your survival. It was all that you knew.

You reached around, grabbing ingredients from various places. All the while, Mark stood there, hating how unbothered you were. He was desperate to get a reaction out of you and would go to great lengths to get what he was searching for.

His eyes were fixed to your frame and the green sequin gown hugging it tightly. There was a long slit running down the side that Mark clocked before you turned to face the counter, offering a delicious view of one of your perfect legs. When his eyes lifted from your beautiful curves, he noticed the dress was backless.

Fuck, you were still gorgeous. Worst of all, you were still exactly everything he imagined and wanted. The girl of his dreams.

“I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you,” Mark admitted, staring daggers into your back.

You rooted in place with shock at the blurted confession, hands on a bottle of tequila, wondering if he had any liquor in his system making him a little more blunt than he should’ve been.

Until Mark finished, “Because if anyone’s going to kill you, it’s going to be me.”

The flutter in your chest immediately settled back into exasperation. Mark wasn’t afraid of having an altercation with you and he knew he could get away with it without suspicion. Given the bad blood between your respective friend groups, occasional animosity was to be expected.

Plus it wasn’t like it was still some grave-bound secret. It also wasn’t as if you never saw the glares Haechan threw your way.

You recovered with a roll of your eyes, turning to him and snapping, “How long are you going to hate me?”

“As long as it takes,” Mark growled, parading out of the kitchen before you could get another word in. He wasn’t prepared to argue yet, but he refused to let you have the last word.

You shook your head in contempt. Mark wasn’t just your former lover, but the other half of you, regardless of how corny it sounded. You knew he could hold a grudge until the day he was six feet under. As long as it takes. For what, you had no clue.

Finishing up the cocktail, you cleaned up behind yourself and prepared to head back out to the party, though made a last-minute decision to linger in the kitchen. You were irritated and you weren’t in the mood to socialize or see Mark again until your system had a little liquor.

A few moments afterwards, Jeno bounced into the kitchen eagerly, grinning from ear to ear like he knew that he’d find you here. As if to sell your suspicions, he greeted, “Found you. And it only took eight seconds.”

You chuckled, sipping from your glass. Though you already knew the answer, you humored him, asking, “How’d you find me?”

“Easy. I just followed the tequila.”

“Me and tequila do go way back,” you replied, smiling at the memories. Some good, some… unspeakable. You gestured to your glass. “Want one?”

Jeno shook his head. “No thanks. I’m good.”

You gasped dramatically and joked, “What, are you pregnant?”

“No way. I’m a complete virgin.”

You burst out laughing. “You’re a complete fucking lie.”

Jeno looked like he couldn’t even take himself seriously. Then, he shifted the topic, mentioning, “I saw Mark storm out of here. That also was a hint as to your whereabouts.”

You fought a grimace, deciding nonchalance was key. “We talked for the first time in two months. Since the breakup.”

“How did that go?”

“Take a wild fucking guess,” you mumbled, the memory making you wince and take another generous sip.

Jeno grimaced. “Yeah, he didn’t look too happy. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you assured him, though you weren’t certain. Your heart still raced a little when Mark was close enough. But a familiar pain always followed in its wake.

Jeno gave you a knowing look, but said nothing. Both of you were distracted by the sound of footsteps, noticing Johnny and Jodie cruising down the hallways. From the looks of it, he was giving her a tour. She was giving Johnny heart eyes.

You arched a brow in curiosity, while Jeno appeared amused. To the average outsider, Johnny looked content as ever, but you and Jeno recognized him with dwindling patience.

“This party’s getting interesting,” Jeno commented, eyes darting down the hall with interest.

You nodded in agreement. “It’s already a step up from last year.”

There were painful flashbacks flickering behind Jeno’s eyes. “Damn right. As soon as I stepped into the lobby, all I could feel was warm air.”

You snickered. “Johnny doesn’t repeat mistakes. He hates it.”

“You really know Johnny.”

You noticed that Jeno’s eyes were already on you when you glanced up to look at him. “We dated. You know that.”

“For your mother’s sake,” Jeno replied.

That was true. She was practically begging you to bring a guy home. Not because she was eager to have grandchildren (though the time would come where she’d start pressing you for an heir), but because having an affluent partner would make you look better, which would thus make the company look better.

It was before Mark. The bad blood aside, he wasn’t exactly the type of person your mother approved of you being seen with. Mark was a rapper. Johnny, on the other hand, came from a lineage of prominent wealthy businessmen.

In a weird way, it kind of made sense how the group separated. There was you, whose father was the chairman of an oil company, Jeno, whose father was the chief executive of a private equity investor, and Johnny and Jaehyun, whose mother was an entrepreneur, but Johnny was chosen to take over the business while Jaehyun was stuck with real estate.

Then there were Mark’s friends. Chungha, who was a successful model and influencer. Yuta, a popular soccer player. And Haechan was the product of two fierce attorneys, but he obviously had no intention of following in his parents’ footsteps.

Johnny was everything your mother wanted you to be with and to appease her, you dated him for a few months. And you were grateful. He helped you learn new things about yourself and how you navigated relationships. You were never in love with him, but you’d always love Johnny.

Your heart still wanted Mark. You didn’t know what love was until you fell for Mark.

“Yes. It was strictly business,” you confirmed, thinking nothing of it. This wasn’t news. Jeno knew you well enough.

Jeno nodded in approval. “I’m gonna go take a look around the house. This is my first time coming over.”

At least you weren’t the only one. “Have fun. I’m gonna find some food. I’m hungry.”

Jeno told you that he’d see you later, then dipped. Meanwhile, you went around the corner to the dining room, finding plenty of food and wanting to dig in. You didn’t trust half of the guests here enough to eat unsupervised dishes, but unlike the previous years, you didn’t manage to sneak in a meal beforehand.

Yuta and Haechan ironically didn’t seem to be as wary. They were sitting beside each other, chatting over their food. Out of his friends, Mark was closest with Yuta and Haechan. Their friendship was unwavering and one of the few to stand the test of time. In a way, they were like a trio of brothers.

You subtly took glances at them. Haechan looked more buoyant and cheerful than earlier. Definitely not in the mood to poison anyone’s food. And Yuta, though you weren’t necessarily close anymore, still seemed like the Yuta you used to know. Before the incident ruined you for the worse.

Haechan couldn’t be any more different. He was the same spoiled little brat, you supposed, but he wasn’t shy about his disdain towards you. And the rest of your friends. If it weren’t for the fact that Johnny was just so goddamn likable, you were certain Haechan wouldn’t come.

At least you weren’t on their radar for now. Neither of them seemed to be fazed by your presence. Thank god, you thought to yourself, glimpsing across the dining room. There were mistletoes hanging from here to there. You could hear typical holiday music from down the hall.

It was a good sign at the very least. You were just paranoid and not having Mark to discreetly meet in a bathroom for a quickie forced you to confront the dark essence of these parties. With Mark, the feeling was still there, but at least you could convert it into tension of a sexual nature.

You still remembered what it was like. Betting kisses on how many minutes of alone time you had before the others noticed you were coincidentally both missing. Those sweet nothings you’d whisper in his ear to coax him towards climax quicker.

And they would work. Every fucking time. There was nothing like watching his face immediately tense with pleasure at those words and watching his orgasm consequently wreck through his utter being like a freight train.

You chuckled at the thought. It was too fucking easy, but boy, Mark could fuck.

Your thoughts wondered again. To Mark, and to Jodie. Did he fuck her, or was he merely using her as a pawn in this little game of his?

You wouldn’t be surprised. On top of his exigency for attention and demand for total adoration, Mark was fucking spiteful. He was the pettiest dude you’d ever met and would go to the ends of the earth and back simply to make a point.

A few more glances around the dining area and you decided that there was nothing for you there, returning to the solace of Johnny’s marble kitchen. Thinking about your stupid ex made you lose your appetite.

If you made it back home for Christmas tomorrow, there would be a full-course dinner with your relatives anyways. You used to hope that you’d be able to bring Mark to one of those holiday banquets, though you’d be delusional to think it’d be anything other than a complete fiasco.

Hell, the only lover of yours to survive meeting your mother was Johnny, and that was because you didn’t know a single person who could possibly dislike him at all.

To your surprise, a spine-chilling gunshot rang out somewhere down the hallway, jolting you out of your brief abstraction.

“Fuck!” cried Johnny’s voice, startled. You knew immediately that something was wrong. Johnny, at least on the outside, was never afraid.

Not since that night.

You marched straight for the living room and the echoes of several pairs of hurried footsteps said that everybody was on the same page. Though you could’ve swore the gunshot came from here, when you got to the living room, everyone was there except for Johnny.

No, Jodie wasn’t there either. You would know, because she’d be clinging to Mark’s arm right about now, like a child to their mother’s bosom in a grocery store.

Johnny stumbled out of the lounge with no apparent injuries, but an inscrutable look on his handsome face.

Jaehyun was the first to ask, “What happened?”

“Jodie,” Johnny said emotionlessly, pointing to the lounge. “She’s dead.”

Nobody moved. You instinctively glanced to Mark, wondering what his reaction would be, but his face didn’t move a fucking inch.

“Is that what that gunshot was for?” Yuta pressed.

Johnny shook his head and replied, “No, the gunshot was for me. Somebody tried to shoot me from the overlook upstairs, but missed by an inch. I ran into the lounge for shelter, but found Jodie there instead.”

The bullet in the wall by a lamp was enough proof that Johnny wasn’t lying. One of his guests standing before him now tried to take him out.

There was a familiar unsettling sensation burning through your gut like a gunshot wound to the abdomen. The room devolved into its own breed of silent chaos, but you could tell from everybody’s faces and guarded postures that the same thought was flickering behind your eyelids.

Mark finally expressed a pinch of anger in his tone, stating in confusion, “I only heard one gunshot.”

“That’s because she wasn’t shot,” Johnny replied coolly, running a hand through his hair. “She was butchered.”

Well, that sure didn’t paint a pretty picture. Just the thought of what you’d see if you walked into the lounge made you stiffen. You jotted down a mental note not to go in there unless absolutely necessary.

You glanced up towards the overlook. It was tall and offered the perfect angle of Johnny from where you assumed he was standing, plus there was enough space between the metal bars for a bullet to fly.

To its sides were two different hallways, both functioning as possible escape routes, but everybody got here fairly quickly. Wouldn’t anyone have noticed if someone fired a shot merely seconds before gathering here?

Your arms were folded across your chest and your face was fixed in a line to hide your fear. There was no room for it with this crowd of people. “You didn’t see anyone?”

“I looked up and they were only a sliver.”

Chungha didn’t look too happy. “Shouldn’t we call the police?”

“As if it’s ever that easy with us,” Jeno retorted.

Johnny quickly shot the idea down. “Nobody’s coming in or out of my house until I know who did this. If you want to try me, be my guest.”

You weren’t keen on being cooped up in this house for only god knows how long with people who were as good as strangers (especially now that bodies were dropping), but you didn’t plan on disobeying either, even if Johnny’s threat did little to intimidate you.

Johnny knew you. He knew you deep down. If Mark weren’t there, standing only a couple of feet shy of you, you would confidently say that he knew you better than anyone else in this room. But it was Mark who had seen all your ugly.

Haechan irritably groaned. “Then, what’s the plan, tough guy?”

“Well, we can start with placing you all outside of the scene. What’s your alibi?” Johnny asked.

Haechan didn’t take kindly to being accused, as evident in his tone when he hissed, “I was in the dining area with Yuta, eating. Our plates are still on the table.”

Johnny glanced at Yuta, who subsequently nodded to confirm that it was true. Plus you could still hear their chatter from around the corner when you were in the kitchen. Their alibi was rock-solid.

“I was coming out of the downstairs bathroom when I heard the gunshot,” Jaehyun said, glimpsing around.

Nobody countered him, and Johnny seemed to trust him, all things considered. They may not have shared blood, but they were brothers.

You rubbed your temple. “I was in the kitchen.”

“I was in the den,” Mark claimed, holding his arm. You could see the slightest shift in his carefully constructed demeanor. “I saw Chungha coming from the back of the hall, so it wasn’t her.”

Chungha said nothing. She was warily glaring holes through the skin of everyone around her. Chungha was a sweetheart and never thought badly of you after the split-up, but she refused to let others get too close, and you honestly respected it.

You were the same way. Skeptical of everybody that crossed your path and kept a tight-knit circle of buddies. After what’d you seen and done, there was no such thing as being too safe.

Jeno huffed, “I was just walking around. I would’ve asked Johnny for a tour, but he was a little… preoccupied.”

Jeno didn’t elaborate and nobody asked him to, but you knew exactly what he meant, and you telepathically exchanged the same thought when you made eye contact for the briefest of seconds. It was odd that only seconds prior, Johnny and Jodie were walking together. Now Jodie was dead and somebody tried to shoot Johnny?

“Let’s not waste precious time. It’s obviously Jeno,” Haechan snapped, glare cutting through his enemy like a blade.

Jeno frowned, offended. “Why me?”

Haechan’s face was tense with frustration. “You know why.”

“Stop,” Johnny told them sternly, stopping the action before it could accelerate too quickly to be controlled. “We’re all adults here and we’re going to handle this like adults. If you have proof, by all means, share. If you don’t know for certain, then keep it to yourself.”

Unsatisfied, Jaehyun crossed his arms and asked, “So what now? We just continue on as if there isn’t a killer on the loose?”

“Yep.”

Jaehyun sighed in distress, but he didn’t go against Johnny.

The eight of you separated quickly, scattering about Johnny’s large house. He seemed to be aware that nothing would happen if you all remained together.

Getting everybody alone upped the stakes. The perpetrator would be more tempted to act. And you needed them to make a mistake.

At least for now, you decided to remain on the first floor where you were already familiar with your surroundings. In spite of being the obvious attack zone of the killer, you were comfortable here.

On your way out of the living room, you noticed some of the group assembling into pairs. Unsurprisingly, Johnny and Jaehyun were together. As were Haechan and Chungha. It was a powerful method, but you preferred to be alone. That way there were less distractions.

You also had no reason to view yourself as a target, though that made you ask yourself the glaring question. Why the hell would somebody want to kill Johnny?

Ironically, the purpose of these parties was to maintain the peace. Jodie’s killer obviously had to know that killing Johnny too would’ve been quite the statement to make.

That there was no peace when it came to the eight of you. You were composed only of death and destruction.

You were so deep in your thoughts that you barely noticed Mark walking in front of you until you nearly crashed into him, stumbling and being caught in his open arms. “Whoa there, baby,” Mark said, holding onto you tightly. “You should really be more aware of what’s going on.”

You wrested yourself out of his hold, but in the middle of doing your damnedest to free yourself from him, your fingers accidentally traced a familiar shape in his coat pocket and you stilled in surprise. “You have a gun?”

Mark didn’t try to deny it. “Why would I go anywhere without one, baby?”

“I’m not your ‘baby,’” you hissed, stepping a comfortable distance away from him.

Mark only hummed. His attention was on the long slit in your emerald green dress. For a second, you couldn’t believe he was blatantly checking you out, then he angled himself towards you and drew his hand to your exposed leg.

Your eyes flitted to Mark and when his met yours, a sly little grin spread across his lips. You’d be lying if you said that his hand on your legs didn’t instinctively reactivate carnal feelings inside of you, but you dared not reveal it on your face.

Finally, after a few seconds of scooting up your thigh, Mark found what he was looking for and purred, “Smart girl.” His hand was at your obviously occupied thigh holster, pointing out the fact that you were also armed and dangerous. “I guess this makes us even, huh?”

You didn’t realize you’d sucked in a breath. It was maddening how perfectly he knew your habits, how predictable you were. You threw his hand off and hissed, “Did you try to kill Johnny?”

“No. Did you?”

“No.”

Mark hummed, apparently believing you. Many things could be said about you depending on who you asked, but at least everybody could agree that you weren’t a killer.

You removed his hand from your thigh and straightened your posture. If the two of you had weapons, it was safe to assume that you weren’t the only ones. The gun strapped to your thigh was the only reason you weren’t totally frightened of being alone.

Your eyes were fixed to Mark, studying him. You weren’t fond of the fact that you were met with the same level of attention, as if he was trying to make you falter under his stare. It wouldn’t be that easy.

Breaking the silence, you told him, “I’m sorry about your piece.”

Mark didn’t look too bummed. “Didn’t care about her like that anyway.”

Yeah, that checks out. You rolled your eyes. “You never cared about anything or anyone, except for yourself.”

That response seemed to genuinely surprise Mark. “Is that what you think of me?”

You weren’t prepared to discuss your emotions with Mark and the sober part of you made the executive decision to walk away instead. The liquor had you feeling a little too honest.

Mark, on the other hand, wasn’t done with this conversation. He grabbed your arm and demanded, “Answer me. Is that what you think of me?”

You wrested your arm out of his hold and snapped, “Just walk away, Mark. It’s what you’re good at.”

That’s rich, Mark thought, but rather than argue with you about it, he stormed off. You were unbelievable. After all he did for you, after how deeply he loved you, you seriously thought that he didn’t love you? That hurt more than he cared to admit.

You watched him walk away, bristling. It didn’t matter that he was only doing what you told him to do. He never fought for your love. He always chose himself over you. Why am I surprised?

Irritated, you made a dramatic exit of your own, wanting nothing more to do with Mark for as long as you lived. He just had to be so fucking difficult. If there wasn’t a slaughter party ongoing right now, you’d be tempted to scout for more alcohol.

At least you knew that you were right not to trust anyone. The food wasn’t spiked apparently, but your point still stood. This crowd was unpredictable and you were never truly safe together. There would always be that lingering tension in the air.

You just wish you knew what their intent in killing Jodie and attempting to kill Johnny was. By now, you were so surrounded by death that you hardly blinked, but Jodie didn’t deserve to die. A puppet in Mark’s silly little games or not.

As if you weren’t already totally pissed, Haechan made his way towards you and hissed, “Admit it. You’re behind all this.”

You resisted a groan and replied blandly, “I thought you said Jeno was the killer?”

“The two of you are besties. It’s not far-fetched to say that you’re in this together, all things considered.”

Rather than be offended, you were purely annoyed. You crossed your arms. “Even if that were true, that’s ridiculous. Why would I want to take out Johnny?”

“No, no, no. Johnny was Jeno’s idea. You had your eye on Jodie,” Haechan said like he had it all figured out. “I saw her corpse. The overkill? It was insane. I bet you took one look at her sucking the breath out of Mark and lost your goddamn mind.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please. You’re pulling shit out of your ass, Haechan.”

Like it was all he knew how to do, Haechan kept pushing. “Two different modus operandis usually indicate two different killers.”

“Oh, yeah? Did Daddy teach you that?” you snarled, feeling your blood pressure soaring.

Haechan shot you a venomous glare and replied back very belligerently, “It’s not rocket science. You’re jealous. Plus you already sided with a murderer once. Why wouldn’t you do it again?”

“God, it’s been years,” you groaned, bringing your palm to your forehead. This man was a walking headache. “If you don’t like us, then fine. But that blood is on all of our hands. Pointing blood-stained fingers won’t change that.”

Haechan was practically fuming. Obviously, he didn’t like that.

You had already started to leave, traveling a fair distance away from Haechan, but spun on your heels to give one final retort, “And for the record, Mark having Jodie tag along to make me jealous was a weak move. Tell him to try harder.”

Then, you left. You left and you didn’t look back. It was hit after hit for you, and you just couldn’t seem to catch a fucking break. Haechan literally had no reason to bother you other than to be a nuisance. His parents were lawyers. He was certain that if push came to shove, he’d have nothing to worry about. And neither would the people he cared for.

There was no telling if you would survive the night at this point. If a bullet didn’t take your life, then stress and frustration was a sure-fire way to finish you off.

The important question was who would be anticipating your death?

You wanted to think that you had never been more on edge, though that would’ve been a bold-faced lie. And an insult to your body’s self-preservation effectiveness. You were far from weak and if you were intent on survival, there was nothing or nobody that would stand in your way.

In an attempt to abate the tension, you made a beeline for the in-door elevator. Hopefully before any other unwelcome visitors could try to snake their way into your path.

When the elevator dinged, you were surprised to see Jeno. “Where are you headed?” you asked.

Jeno retorted, “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

You snickered and slipped beside him. Finally somebody whose company didn’t piss you off. “Second floor. Obviously.”

Jeno stepped out of the elevator, but extended his hand to keep the door from closing, scanning the bottom floor for other people. Apparently, there weren’t any, because he finally said, “There’s something weird going on.”

You snorted. “Other than the death and murder? Yeah, probably. Haechan accused us of being killers.”

“No, I mean…,” Jeno trailed, taking a peak across the hallway again. “What if he’s faking it?”

“Who?”

“Johnny.”

You made a face. That wasn’t something you’d even considered and you weren’t exactly convinced now that you had. “Why would he do that?”

Jeno shrugged. “Why do people kill? He was the first one to discover Jodie. And he’s the guy that hosts these parties.”

“Yeah, I think that’s a pretty solid reason to assume he’s not the killer. He’s literally a victim. No offense, but I don’t buy that he killed Jodie then somehow had enough time to make it look like somebody fired a shot at him,” you replied.

“I guess,” Jeno mumbled, quietening. You were about to ask why, but you clocked Jaehyun casually strolling by.

Which meant he wasn’t with Johnny.

Jeno cocked you one final glance and said, “People always look at the guy with his hands dirty. No one ever suspects the guy with his hands behind his back.”

Then, he recouped his hand and disappeared behind the elevator doors. In a time that it took you to blink, he was gone so quickly you could’ve imagined his presence.

And now you were thinking. If Johnny were alone, who knew what he was up to, but in the same vein, that could’ve just made him more vulnerable.

You immediately brushed the thought aside. Johnny? Vulnerable? Pfft. This guy taught you everything you knew about how to survive and it was only thanks to his valor and self-preservation skills that you were even breathing.

The elevator dinged again and this time the doors made a little narrow opening for you to walk through. It was your first time on the second floor of Johnny’s luxurious penthouse and the very first thing you did was monitor the new environment.

Few people apparently. Everything just seemed so normal and there was hardly anything out of place. You could faintly hear the Christmas songs still blasting from the speakers downstairs.

You crept just down the hall, pausing at the overlook. The place where the gunshot was fired. You gripped the rails, scanning the ground below. In the corner of your eye, you noticed Chungha sneaking about, but she was gone just as quickly.

The killer had to have been lithe. These little metal bars were thin and did little to conceal your frame. For Johnny to have barely seen them, you could only liken them to a thief in the night.

The problem was that literally everybody fit that description. There was no person that you could rule out, because you each had the capacity. If not the motive, then the means.

That was why you couldn’t wrap your head around it. Your lone brain couldn’t fathom the devastation plaguing this group and you decided that you wouldn’t even try. With a little breath, you turned and searched for the fitness center.

It wasn’t difficult to find. All you had to do was narrow down your options, taking peeks through windows and quickly discerning that they weren’t your final destination. After some trial and error, you found your way to the massive gym area.

According to the sign, and a conversation you’d overheard earlier during the party (before all hell broke loose), just around the corner was a soccer simulator.

Somebody was already inside when you pushed the door open to enter. You bashfully waved your hand. “Thought I’d find you here.”

Yuta looked surprised to see you, but he only wore it on his face for a split second. “Stalker, much?”

“Nah. I just thought, ‘if I was a famous soccer player, where would I go?’ And this was the first place that came to mind.”

Yuta snickered. “Predictable. That’s a character flaw, I guess.”

A tiny laugh escaped your lips. Honestly, you were just glad that you even felt comfortable enough to joke around with Yuta, even if it was meaningless. Haechan was praying for your downfall and Chungha didn’t socialize with outsiders, but Yuta was thankfully normal.

He didn’t seem to mind your presence either. The large screen glaring at you in a violently blue hue was definitely on, but Yuta’s eyes appeared elsewhere. He finally said, “This gang and parties don’t mix too well, huh?”

“I think not,” you retorted, crossing your arms in amusement. Staying detached from the darkness was the only way you could stay sane. “Somebody always ends up dying at one of them.”

Yuta took a seat in a nearby chair and kicked his feet up on another one beside him pensively. “Sworn enemies with an axe to grind in the same room under the guise of ceasing rivalry one day out of the entire year. I could’ve told you guys how that was gonna end.”

I could’ve, too, you said to yourself, a billion thoughts like a downpour in your head. It was why you never left your house unarmed and hesitated to eat food you didn’t make.

Because you were protecting yourself. Just like everybody else in this house.

“Well, it’s not a shock,” you replied in agreement. “We do enough damage on our own, but together? It’s all we’re capable of.”

Yuta fought a frown. “I feel bad for that Jodie girl. I’m sure you’re aware Mark was definitely using her, but she didn’t deserve to be dragged into our sick hell.”

Those pictures of her slaughtered body were flickering in your head again. It haunted you, and you hadn’t even seen her corpse. “Everybody that comes near us gets burned.”

Yuta’s demeanor shifted noticeably, brooding. “I feel guilty. Yet when Johnny told us she died, all I could think was ‘at least it’s not my fault this time.’ Is that wrong?”

His sudden vulnerability surprised you, considering Yuta wasn’t the type to randomly express his feelings, much less to you. You immediately put your hand on his shoulder in comfort and said, “Doyoung’s death wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know.”

Yuta shrugged. “If I had listened to my parents, if I hadn’t invited you all there, that night wouldn’t have happened. Doyoung wouldn’t be dead. And this friend group might’ve stayed in one piece.”

“Yuta, you should blame that creepy psychopathic weirdo. Not yourself.”

Yuta grimaced, as if the sole mention of that guy flung him back to a place he’d already buried.

And you didn’t blame him. You didn’t even know the guy’s name, but you could describe him vividly. How could you not? The same pale guy in blood-stained overalls appeared in your dreams a little too often.

This little party turned bloodbath wasn’t you and your friends’ first rodeo. Matter of fact, you’d argue that the first round was a tad scarier. You still got flashbacks, so terrified for your life and everybody around you that adrenaline numbed you to the crisp, nipping autumn air.

For his birthday prelude, Yuta invited all of you to his parents’ expensive farmhouse, sitting just on your hometown’s outskirts. It was quiet, remote. No neighbors, which seemed fun in the first half, but as the night progressed, it became a nightmare not having anyone nearby.

A birthday celebration quickly became a fight for survival, and Doyoung lost. He was one of you, still a part of you, locked away inside your heart but never forgotten.

Jeno had accidentally stabbed him with a gardening tool, thinking that he was the killer. Doyoung had come to his hiding spot desperately seeking shelter, but Jeno panickedly made a mistake that cost him his friend’s life and the trust of his others.

That was how the friend group divided. There was the side that would never forgive him for Doyoung’s death, blaming him wholeheartedly. And then there was the side that showed him some grace. You were all frightened out of your minds that night.

Though what Jeno did didn’t matter. You were all complicit in Doyoung’s demise, whether they wanted to admit it or not. The killer made you all finish him off, made you all bury his wounded corpse while it was still fresh.

Your hands were still stained with dirt and blood, burning hotter every time you thought of him.

“I blame Jeno,” Yuta seethed under his breath.

You frowned.

Yuta stood to his feet, unable to stay still. There was too much emotion in him now, pulling him every which way. “Every year I get whiplash from having to mourn my friend’s death anniversary then celebrate my birthday back to back. That’s unforgivable.”

Though you liked Yuta, you weren’t going to let anyone slander your best friend silently. “I understand, but it’s not just Jeno’s fault.”

Yuta chuckled. “If only you knew.”

Your brows furrowed. “What don’t I know?”

“That Jeno’s fucking obsessed with you. Always has been. We don’t hate him because he killed Doyoung. We hate him because we think he killed Doyoung for you.”

Your lips parted soundlessly, flabbergasted.

Yuta read the confusion on your face plain as day and continued, “Think about it, sugar. Doyoung had a crush on you. That was everybody’s business. And it’s Doyoung who Jeno accidentally stabs out of all people?”

You couldn’t say anything. It wasn’t like you hadn’t turned down Jeno’s advances once before, but he was so fucking chill. You could’ve forgotten that it even happened. There wasn’t a single thing in your friendship that felt out of place.

Plus he knew firsthand that you were head over heels for Mark only, even if you didn’t want to be anymore. It was pathetic. Yuta had just told you another guy was willing to go to lethal lengths to keep you away, and yet one of your first thoughts was how painstakingly you loved Mark.

But Mark hated you.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” you said, the lines between fiction and reality beginning to blur.

Yuta relaxed. He could tell there was a lot going on in your head, because he recognized the conflict akin to the one warring within himself. “It’s dead.”

You appreciated that. Fuck’s sake, Mark and his friends usually liked to push until there was nowhere else to go. And then some. Your thoughts wandered there and you opened your mouth, asking, “Why are you nice to me?”

“I’m not nice to you,” Yuta replied, making you blink. “I just treat you like a regular human being. There’s a difference.”

“Why?”

“Because you haven’t done anything for me not to.”

You shook your head. “Mark wouldn’t agree,” you muttered, rubbing your arms.

Yuta glanced at you. You were letting your guard down around him, something he was certain you probably hadn’t even done with Mark tonight. “Fuck Mark. He’s been lying to himself. And to be frank, I think he’s deluded himself.”

Your eyes were cold when you looked into Yuta’s. “Elaborate.”

“I mean, he wants to convince us and the whole world that he hates you and he’s moved on, but he hasn’t even convinced himself. You were his everything, man. Mark hasn’t been the same since the breakup. I want my friend back.”

I want my lover back. But Mark used to be your friend, too. A healthy blend of friendship and romance that made your love for each other feel depthless.

If only you knew back then that your love would be tested. Would you have still sacrificed every piece of yourself to make him happy if you knew that it still wouldn’t be enough?

“I hope you have a wonderful Christmas tomorrow,” you told Yuta after a long pause, a telltale sign that you were leaving and had no more room for conversation.

“If I make it to tomorrow,” Yuta retorted playfully. “Likewise. Merry Christmas.”

You smiled at him on your way out in a final goodbye. You only wanted one thing for Christmas, and that was to have Mark back in your arms. Where he belonged.

For a good minute, you meandered about the hallways, cautiously monitoring your surroundings to make sure no one was trailing you. You considered heading to the den for refuge, but Mark obviously liked it there, and you’d had enough run-ins for one night.

Instead, you opted for the in-door pool, where obviously nobody was. In front of you stood a long line of water with a set of hot tubs off to the side. It was the perfect place to clear your head without having to constantly check if there was someone out to get you.

Before you could slightly relax, you scanned the room and clocked two exits. If you couldn’t get out of the main exit for whatever reason, there was always the option of the backup door. With that pressure off your shoulders, you took off your heels and sank your feet in the pool.

Dangling your feet in the water, your mind began to race, hopping from one thought to another at a pace too painful for you to keep up with. You hated being this way. Always having to keep an eye out, never fully trusting anybody. Mark was the only person that you could turn your back to and confidently believe you’d be fine.

Once upon a time, he was your safe haven, and now you weren’t sure if you could even trust him anymore. For all you knew, he could’ve been behind all this.

It hurt to think of what you should’ve been, of the happy, oblivious couple you were only months earlier. The couple that didn’t go to bed angry or sleep in different rooms, too stubborn to spend the night beside each other. There was no problem the two of you couldn’t sort out back then.

You started to wonder if Yuta was right about everything he said. First of all, Jeno didn’t kill Doyoung. It wasn’t that quick. He attacked him first, but you all had Doyoung’s blood on your hands. Literally.

You only wished you could’ve seen Yuta’s point of view. Jeno was admittedly happy when you and Mark finally broke up, though you figured it was because he didn’t want to see you suffer, not because he wanted you to be with him instead.

Worst of all, Yuta told you that Mark still wasn’t over you. And you hated it. If you wanted Mark and Mark wanted you, then why weren’t you together?

Then, you remembered. The lack of compatibility that burned your happy home together down to a crisp. Things failed because Mark wanted to conquer. You refused to be taken. What made him feel ignored made you feel free. What made you feel inhibited made him feel secure. When he started to feel unwanted, he pushed you away.

Your love was a slow burn till the end. All of those years of pining for each other turned into you pining away from heartbreak, eating your heart out for a boy you were destined to never have at all.

You hated knowing that you and Mark would’ve never worked out whether you dated or not. Maybe because you knew that if you didn’t have Mark, then you had no one. It simply wasn’t written in the stars.

Mark was the only one who knew your biggest fears. Your motivations. He knew firsthand the irreversible impact Doyoung’s death had on the rest of your life, because you confided only in him about the shame. You weren’t scared of being naked with Mark. He saw the ugliest bits of you and it wasn’t what sent him running.

It was hard to explain to anybody that wasn’t there, but nothing was the same after Doyoung died. Thanks to your parents’ status, you were already used to being careful, but it was nothing like the girl you were after fighting for survival. It was your first time fighting for anything.

Every inch of you was alive and awake, perpetually on fight mode. Mark wasn’t just the sole place where you could exist peacefully; he understood your trauma and loved you with every fiber of his being in spite of it.

That was why you couldn’t be with any other guy. How could you explain those nights when you woke up screaming in terror? Mark didn’t ask questions. He just held you and told you that you were safe in his arms.

If you couldn’t have Mark, then you knew you were meant to die alone.

The sound of a door pushing open made you immediately stand up, preparing to take off without your heels. They would only slow you down anyways. You saw Mark enter and, rather than cool down, your stiff muscles were overloaded with apprehension.

“I have an idea and I’m prepared to argue with you about it,” were the first words to come out of Mark’s mouth, speaking before you could dare to, as if he knew you’d have something to say.

You played it cool, though your heartbeat was harshly thudding in your ears. “What do you want now?”

Mark took your tone in stride. “We should travel in pairs. As they say, safety in numbers.”

Your face tensed in disgust. “And why in the hell would I want to travel with you?”

Mark didn’t skip a beat. “Because if I’m the killer, you’re the only one that stands a chance against me.”

You folded your arms. Mark almost grinned looking at you, but resisted. It was like your favorite pose ever. “I thought you said you didn’t kill Jodie?”

“Technically, I said that I didn’t try to kill Johnny,” Mark answered, a sly smile on his lips. “Do you trust me?”

“I don’t trust anyone anymore,” you replied coolly. Not after you broke it. And me.

“Good. You don’t trust me and I don’t trust you. We don’t have reasons to. But let’s at least be forward with our intentions here,” Mark said, stepping closer. “I intend to survive. And you?”

“I intend to survive as well,” you asserted.

Mark added forthrightly, “And we’ll do anything to live, even if it means killing someone else for our own sake. We’re not strangers to sacrificing other people for our benefit.”

You heaved a breath and groaned impatiently, “So what? This is some truce or something?”

“Or something,” Mark replied with enough uncertainty to make you overwhelmingly suspicious. “We’d just be working together. Who says that you have to trust me?”

You hated that you were seriously considering it, but he was making a pretty decent point. It was stupid to be by yourself. You had to admit it, even as somebody that valued her independence like it was your lifeline.

Mark recognized you in conflict with yourself, even as you tried your hardest to appear neutral. After all those years spent by each other’s side, he guessed it was simply natural. Your bottom lip stuck out, though only slightly. You were giving it your best shot at keeping composed.

You weighed the pros and cons in your head. If you didn’t pair with Mark, you would be more vulnerable, but if you did, it would be increasingly difficult to ignore having to confront the whirlwind of feelings he left you to soak in.

You didn’t want that, but it wasn’t like you wanted to die either. Finally, after a moment of contemplation, you relented. “Fine.”

Satisfied, Mark grinned victoriously. “Two heads are better than one.”

That was what you used to think. It used to be enough to simply look into Mark’s eyes, knowing that he was there. Now you couldn’t stand to be beside him. “Not when they’re bumping into each other,” you grumbled.

Mark cocked a brow. “Then, let’s not make this about us. Let’s focus on survival. That’s our common interest here.”

Obviously, that was easier said than done, but you didn’t argue or complain. This was a rare moment of Mark willing to set your differences aside for a better purpose. At least for now, you intended to behave.

Plus you wanted to see how long the two of you could go before Mark started barking. He looked sweet, but if anybody thought Mark was all sugar and rainbows, they clearly hadn’t met him. This boy was all fire.

And you were air; gentle as a featherlight, ocean breeze, but capable of roaring like a tornado if provoked. Forceful enough to spread his flames out further, but not to blow them out. Mark was untameable. You had that in common.

It sounded corny, but it was the truth. You bettered one another in some ways, but enabled one another in others. Your similarities seemed to work against you, neither of you wanting to set your pride aside.

That was the problem. If you pushed, Mark pushed back harder. If Mark screamed, you screamed back louder. It was like a fucking seesaw that you couldn’t get off of.

Rationally, an important question kept prodding at your ribcage. “How did you even find me?” you asked.

“I had to look everywhere,” Mark said, slight exasperation in his tone. “I knew you wouldn’t be out in the open, so it was just a matter of finding out where you were hiding.”

You nodded. That would have to be a satisfactory response. You weren’t going to press him about it. “Okay, but if we’re going to be a team, we need to try and figure out who’s killing and what’s going on.”

Mark bobbed his head. “Yeah, I know. Have you been seeing anything suspicious lately? I noticed Jaehyun creeping out like he’s got something to hide.”

Your brows furrowed. “Seriously? I did too. When I was talking to Jeno in the elevator. Chungha looked a little suspicious, too.”

Mark obviously didn’t expect that. “You’re kidding. You know how Jaehyun said that he was downstairs when the gun went off?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I saw Jaehyun coming from down the hall, where I also noticed Chungha come from. She came after him, but it looked timed. Kinda like how we used to leave at different times so nobody would think we were together.”

The mention of those times sent you back, perfectly calculating the ideal time to exit the same room without raising suspicions amongst your friends and foes.

Bidding the thoughts to go away, you quickly recovered, mentioning, “That’s odd. I don’t know if it’s connected, but earlier when I was talking to Jaehyun, he excused himself to go upstairs.”

“Before the gun went off?” Mark asked, skeptical.

You leaned down to fix the strap of your heel, which you’d slipped back on after you realized the intruder was only Mark, discerning that he was no threat. “Yeah, somebody texted him. From the face he was making, it looked urgent. I just assumed one of his relatives messaged him and he went to god knows where upstairs to take a call.”

Mark shook his head in disapproval. Disappointment, maybe. “They’re in cahoots, that’s for sure.”

You pressed, “But why in the hell would Jaehyun and Chungha be working together? They’re not even on the same side.”

“Motives to kill,” Mark sighed, face twisted cutely in thought. It was so stressful pretending that you weren’t attracted to every little thing he did. His eyes widened a little and he said, “Wait.”

“Hm?”

“It’s common knowledge that when Johnny’s mom died, she left him to take over the family business, while Jaehyun got stuck with real estate…,” Mark trailed.

You quickly noticed where this was going and added, “Jaehyun always wanted to be the chief executive. Ever since we were teenagers, it was all he talked about.”

Mark tapped his chin. “I still remember what it was like. I couldn’t tell if he was more depressed about his stepmother dying, or not inheriting her multimillion dollar business.”

“You think he’s still holding that grudge?”

Mark shrugged. “Who knows?”

You subconsciously scratched your forearm. You didn’t realize, but Mark did. It was something you often did when you were anxious, which was basically all of the time. “Chungha’s been paying an awful lot of attention to Johnny’s jewelry case.”

“She likes anything bright and shiny,” Mark responded, thinking nothing of it. “Why? You think she stole something?”

You shrugged your shoulders and replied, “I think anything’s possible, but I don’t think it’s worth killing over. I mean, she’s not just rich. She’s wealthy. She can afford her own diamonds.”

Trying to figure those two out was like attempting to unravel the identity of Jack the Ripper. Jaehyun was composed and Chungha was vigilant. Their guarded natures combined made them both mysterious and lethal.

Mark couldn’t wrap his head around it, either. But he was certain that those two were up to no good. “Well, we’ve got their motives. Let’s try to think of the others.”

“Johnny told me he and Haechan got into an argument before the party. He looked pretty pissed earlier,” you recalled.

“Yeah, I picked up on that, too,” Mark said. When a guy who sent earthquakes wherever he went was agitated, it was impossible for the whole world not to notice.

“Speaking of holding grudges,” you started, gathering any pieces you could find and linking them with each other. “Johnny left Yuta at that shack and because of it he got an injury that almost cost him soccer.”

Mark didn’t seem convinced. “Yeah, but Yuta’s been playing soccer just fine for years now. Plus he told Johnny to leave to find that weapon.”

“The reasoning doesn’t have to make sense to anybody but the killer.”

Mark was silent for a long time, cautiously contemplating. “What about Jeno?”

You were irked at the mention of your best friend, but knew that nobody was totally off the table. Not even yourself. You played innocent. “What about him?”

Mark exhaled a breath, but laughed. “You know, I can’t tell if you’re playing dumb, or if you’ve truly never noticed how much Jeno’s into you. You can’t seriously think him attacking Doyoung was an accident.”

Yuta had already brought you up to speed on the whole jealousy killer Jeno theory between Mark and his pals, which you were none too convinced about. “If Jeno’s the killer, I don’t understand what he’d get out of killing Johnny or Jodie. By your logic, that means you should be dead. Not your girlfriend.”

“Maybe Johnny likes you.”

“Ignoring the ridiculousness of that statement…”

Mark interjected before you could continue, “Is it so ridiculous? You and Johnny dated, and it was your decision to break things off. You were never in love with him, but have you ever considered that maybe Johnny loved you?”

You hadn’t really considered it, you always assumed Johnny knew he was doing you a favor and it was nothing more or less, but that didn’t stop you from snapping, “Jeno knows where I stand with Johnny. That I was never in love with him. Why would he kill a man that isn’t a threat?”

“Did you like Doyoung back?”

“No,” you hissed.

Mark shot, “And you don’t see him walking around here, do you? You said it yourself: the reasoning doesn’t have to make sense to anybody but the killer.”

“I think that says more about the faultiness of your theory than mine.”

Mark opened his mouth to speak, but you didn’t let him get a word in.

You sneered, “And are you seriously going to ignore the fact that Jodie was killed? Carved out like a pumpkin. That sounds like something only somebody with a lot of rage for her would do.”

Mark was losing patience, you could tell from the look on his face. “Are you implying that I killed her?”

“I’m not implying a damn thing. But you were pretty nonchalant over the fact that you got an innocent girl killed,” you replied, definitely insinuating that he was responsible. “Outside of being tainted by your touch, that is.”

“Maybe you did it,” Mark snapped.

You rolled your eyes. This was the second time you’d gotten this accusation today and you weren’t keen on hearing it again, but Mark was already yapping before you could tell him not to bother.

“You couldn’t stand to see me with a girl that wasn’t you,” he said, a turmoil of wildfire dancing in his pupils. “So you got rid of her.”

You threw your head back and grunted, “Oh, fuck’s sake. Get over yourself.”

“Get over me,” Mark hissed. “We’ve been over for months. It was never gonna work, you know? Everything’s sunshine and rainbows during the honeymoon phase.”

“Fuck you,” you seethed, turning away and heading for the door. You didn’t know why you thought he was capable of having a civil conversation with you. So much for not making this about us.

Mark grabbed your arm, glaring at you in disapproval. “I’m sorry, was this too much pressure for you? You couldn’t handle the heat and now you’re walking away again?”

You screamed, “You pushed me away!”

“Because you pushed me first,” Mark yelled, matching your energy. Matter of fact, what you gave, he doubled it and handed it back tenfold. And vice versa.

Running your hands down your face, you wanted to scratch your skin off with your nails. “Dude. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about all those times you made me feel like you didn’t want me. All those times you left me alone without a reason why. You got so distant on me, baby. Really had me wondering if there was somebody else.”

Somebody else? You couldn’t believe he was serious. Your heart would never want anybody that wasn’t Mark, because she knew he was the only one that could satisfy her.

Your face softened for a fraction of a second. “All I wanted was you.”

“You sure had a funny way of showing it,” Mark grumbled under his breath.

Guilt flickered in your eyes, stinging them to crystals, but you didn’t let them fall. “I needed space. I liked being with you, but not at the expense of losing touch with my soul. I needed room to breathe.”

Mark frowned. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

You asked just as quickly, “Why didn’t you just ask?”

“It felt like a waste of time. I thought you already decided that you didn’t want me. That you were just another girl who underestimated how much attention I need.”

“Wow,” you mumbled quietly. Amused, but angry. “You fight, but for all the wrong reasons.”

Mark’s eyes flitted towards yours. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That you wouldn’t fight for us to stay together, but you’ll shout in my face at literally any other given opportunity.”

Mark reined in his head, running his hands through his hair. “Listen, I’m no good at this relationship stuff.”

“I know.”

That made Mark bristle. It wasn’t just his fault, but you refused to hold yourself accountable. “You’re no expert, either.”

“I know,” you sighed, lips curled into a frown.

Mark’s eyes flickered.

It appeared you were finally realizing how egregiously the two of you had mutually fucked up. “We didn’t talk. And that was okay. Our problems were small enough that after we climbed into bed with each other they were long forgotten. But then they got bigger and we didn’t know what to do, other than what we’d always done.”

Mark scratched the back of his head. “But it didn’t work. The problem was still there.”

Part of the reason why you two never worked through the issue was because you failed to specifically identify the problem. Mark didn’t just want to be loved, he demanded it. And he did it by completely seizing power over your mind, body, and soul.

Your mind in life. Your body in bed. Your soul in everything in between.

You didn’t like to feel dominated in that way. It made you dig into your heels. Letting Mark exercise this assertive power over you, letting him have control over the tiniest piece of you that was left, it felt like a betrayal. To yourself, and to the dead.

Because you were still clinging to that girl. That girl whose hands were clear of blood and didn’t spend hours scrubbing under her nails away a stain that wasn’t really there. The girl who didn’t take that final blow to her friend’s chest and watch the light in his eyes dim until he was gone.

It was cruel and unforgivable, but even with the hurt on Doyoung’s face, there was an understanding twinkle in his eyes. You’d seen it, for a tiny fraction of a second. Or maybe you imagined it so that it would be simpler to live with the crippling guilt.

You were the girl he loved and the last thing he saw. Every anniversary, you swore one of the stars in the sky twinkled brighter.

I didn’t have a choice; it was him, or all of us. What was my other option? Plus he was going to die either way. The police didn’t arrive on scene until dawn. He would have bled to his death if we didn’t finish him off.

Mark knew he was high-maintenance and he knew the toll Doyoung’s death had on you, but he somehow never exactly pieced together how it would impact your relationship. That there would be days where you didn’t want hugs or kisses. You just wanted to be left alone.

Plus Mark was so sympathetic about everything you went through and all of your feelings to the point you assumed he would just know you needed space. Somehow you had mistaken his understandingness for being a mind reader.

And Mark, somewhere along the line, sensed you drifting away, so he discarded you first. Mark didn’t get abandoned. It wasn’t in his nature to stick around when he knew he was on the brink of being cast aside, left high and dry.

He wanted to be loved, but he wanted to love himself. And he was not against hurting himself, because the pain was easier to cope with than if he let somebody else hurt him.

At least he thought it would be.

“We couldn’t just fuck and make up anymore, so we started to argue over petty things, and we never got to the core of the matter,” you said, picturing yourself back in that living room, shouting.

Mark remembered, because it was all he’d been thinking about for months, asking himself what was the final blow in spite of being aware that he was the one who chose to break up. “Pillowtalk was the only time we really discussed our emotions. Remember?”

God, how could you not? This boy would fuck the shit out of you then snuggle you to sleep immediately after, chatting about anything under the sun (or moon) until your eyelids got too heavy and started to flutter closed.

You simply nodded your head, unable to open your mouth. Though you both were being vulnerable, you were afraid of what you might’ve said.

Mark chuckled. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I always had these doubts about you, to be honest. You were too good to be true. Most girls get tired of me after a minute so I never stay too long, but you’ve been in my life since we were kids.”

Your eyes were sad when you glanced into his. “So why did you leave me? Why didn’t you fight?”

Mark’s eyes twinkled with regret as he whispered, “I was scared of being abandoned by the girl I loved. So I dipped. I ran before you could tell me that it was over. It gave me some kind of agency over my heartbreak.”

You laughed in disbelief. This breakup was so dramatic, and for what? “In hindsight, we’re just a pair of fucking idiots,” you said, shaking your head in disapproval. “Imagine if we just talked about this months ago. It could’ve all been so simple.”

Mark hung his head in shame, resting his hand at his nape. It would’ve spared him some pain. And so many tears.

“I’ve spent months thinking that I don’t deserve love because of what I did that night. Because if I can’t have you, Mark, then there’s nobody else out there for me,” you told him, releasing the words you’d been holding back for eons.

Mark blinked, processing. Then, deciding he was short of words, he said, “I’m done talking,” and smashed his lips against yours. You were surprised, but immediately molded your lips into his, feeling his hands instinctively get a hold of your hips.

It had been a lifetime since you’d last felt his touch on your skin and to say you missed it would be an understatement. Your body felt like it was being reawakened, dormant sensations coming back to life again.

Two star-crossed lovers, discreetly meeting each other for one final rendezvous before your individual lives inevitably drove a wedge between your passionate sparks. That, or death. For now, you were content to be in each other’s hold, kissing like it was the last time.

As your bodies swung in each other’s embrace, you noticed Mark’s feet dancing dangerously close to the edge of the pool. “Careful,” you warned, shuffling him out of the way. “Don’t want your flames to get doused.”

Mark snickered. “Please, baby. I have enough fire for the both of us.”

“I know you do. That’s what I love about you.”

Mark’s ears perked up at that. You loved him? You didn’t know how long he had been waiting to hear you say that. And it made him remember what you told him only moments ago before his brain went blank. “I love you. Don’t ever think that you don’t deserve to be loved.”

Your chest filled with warmth, but you purred, “Or else what?”

Leaning into you, Mark nibbled at your ear a little before whispering, “Or else I’ll have to show you how much you mean to me.”

It was difficult to play nonchalant. Your heart was skipping beats now. You wanted Mark desperately and it drove you to the brink of insanity. “Oh, no. I’m so afraid.”

Mark grinned, dragged you away to a padded chaise.

You sat there, your entire body excited, but your brain (at least for now) was still capable of thinking rationally and you asked, “Are we seriously about to fuck in a pool chair?”

“We’ve fucked in worse places and done even worse things,” Mark replied offhandedly, thinking about nothing but getting his hands on those pretty thighs of yours.

You pressed your lips together, aware that you had little to zero grounds for argument. Bathrooms weren’t even anywhere close to the most outlandish location you and Mark had decided would be an apt backdrop for sexual intercourse. Those places were unspeakable.

Mark took your silence as a victory and whispered silkily, “Sit back and relax, baby.”

You giggled. Mark had never left you unsatisfied. A time with this boy’s head between your legs was guaranteed to be a sacrilegiously fulfilling experience.

Mark grabbed your left leg, draping it over the side of the chair so that he wouldn’t have to literally bend over backwards to go down on you, and when he noticed the gun poking out of your thigh holster, he laughed. “With your permission, I wanna take your gun. If it makes you feel better, I’ll set mine aside, too.”

You let him take your gun and disarm the weapon before setting it on a poolside table wedged between the chaise you were currently occupying and another. If this was some ruse to get you unarmed, Mark was simply stupid. He would’ve had way better opportunities moments prior.

But it wasn’t. Mark was tugging your panties down your ankles, something you were certain he wouldn’t bother to do if he had murder on his mind. You usually felt naked when you were bare of a weapon, but something about Mark naturally made you relax.

Your dress rode up above your hips, giving him complete access to your dripping pussy. Just thinking about what he was about to do to you, you swore, breathing became the most difficult chore.

Mark took one fucking glimpse at your glistening pussy and almost howled like a goddamn wolf. Instead, the sound that emerged from the back of his throat was identical, animalistic and ravenous as if he couldn’t wait to dig into a full course.

The comparison wasn’t far off, because as soon as he stopped staring hungrily at you in a way that made you shift, slightly self-conscious, his calloused palms were clasping your thighs tightly and his mouth was flush against your throbbing core.

“Jesus. Fuck,” you moaned, thighs tensing already. And he just started. To be fair, it had been a couple of months since anybody’s hands - or mouth - had touched you there. You had been unable to give yourself to anybody that wasn’t Mark, which you felt like a total fool for when you saw him boo’d up with Jodie.

And yet here you were, still letting him have his way with you, giving him the power to break you down and build you back up as he pleased. Your breaths were quick, your lips parting in a shaky exhale at every pass of his tongue against your glistening folds.

It reminded him of the past couple of years, sneaking around to fuck in the most isolated location you could possibly find. All of those times he mounted you on a fancy bathroom counter to get his head between your thighs, or fucked you there so hard the mirrors clouded.

All Mark knew was sex and destruction, and half of the time, those things came hand in hand. For a minute, he was more than that with you. Until you were gone and he knew he was at least partly to blame. He wanted to prove to you that he was more than your reckless lover.

Though that would have to be put on hold. As of right now, his intentions consisted only of wrecking you.

“God, I missed the way you taste,” Mark grumbled with a mouthful of pussy.

His voice was deep and handsome, and so sexy that you likely could’ve nutted then and there, too aroused to keep a rein on yourself. Mark had that effect on you and the worst part was that he knew it. Sex used to be a game of seduction, teasing each other for hours to see who would break first.

Of course, you folded the better half of the time. Mark had fucking cheat codes. This boy knew your every weakness and used them to his advantage. The hell were you supposed to do when he made you watch recordings of the previous times he’d pleasured you? Not kiss the very ground that he walked on?

Pfft. Yeah, right. Though you never went down without stating in defense, “You cheated!”

Oh, fuck Mark. He just had to be so good with his hands. And a pleaser.

You always got your lick back, though. Mark may have won in the first half, but you knew exactly how to take him down. First, you had to make him think that he’d already won. Then, you had to return the favor, making him swear he saw stars. That was how you kept the balance.

Mark’s tongue was expertly navigating your clit and you wanted to be mad at it, but all you could bring yourself to do was writhe in the gray chaise. Had not his hands been locking your thighs in place, you would’ve snapped them closed in sensitivity. Mark was not to be underestimated. This boy was way stronger than he seemed.

You resigned yourself to the fact that your only option was to lie there and take it all. There was nowhere for you to escape. When it felt too good, it was a telltale warning that Mark would seize control of your whole body, and you were torn between fleeing and letting him have it.

“Don’t try to run away from it, baby,” he whispered knowingly, though he knew you couldn’t resist the temptation of the satisfaction you were promised. “I’ve got you.”

You rolled your hips into his face in a hurried pursuit for relief, desperately wishing you had something to anchor yourself with and lower you back down to earth, but Mark had brought you to a constantly ascending high.

Mark chuckled, because he knew he had your body down to a science. If you thought it couldn’t get anymore dangerously intense than this, you were wrong as hell and had another thing coming. Mark released one of your thighs, gathering your arousal on his sticky fingers, and fucked it right back into you.

You gawked. You almost couldn’t believe he was making a mess out of you like this, but then you remembered that he was Mark fucking Lee. Taking your breath was what he did best. His mouth was still on you, sucking and licking, because you were the closest thing to heaven he would ever know and he couldn’t get enough.

All the while, he thumbed your clit, making a tremble roar through your utter being and your toes clench, tucking into themselves.

“I’m so close,” you whimpered in the tiniest voice.

“I know,” Mark replied, pulling back. “What did you think I was doing all the extra shit for?”

You winced your eyes closed and heaved the thickest breath, attempting to regain control over your body, but to absolutely no avail. That was when you came to terms with your fate. Mark was going to finish you off.

“You know what I want. Let go for me,” Mark whispered darkly. “Do it on my fingers.”

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” you chanted, feeling something tense in your belly. The pleasure blending with the yearning created a sensation unlike any other. Your whole figure was engulfed in flames, scorching you from head to doe.

It was closing in. You could feel sin’s darkly cloaked hand reeling you in, pulling you closer and closer, and closer to the jagged edge. There was no point in struggling; you were in nature’s grasp now and whatever happened was entirely up to her.

As someone who prided himself on his ability to please, Mark took great delight in pleasuring you and it was no shock that he knew exactly how to coax you towards climax. “Yeah, that’s it, baby. Let it all go. I’ve got you.”

Finally, you started to cum, ecstasy shooting through your body every which way in the form of uncontrollable warmth, making your head feel light and your toes curl. Mark’s encouraging words became static to your ears, your senses totally overpowered, the life leaving your body for all but a split second.

Mark was sporting the slyest of grins, watching you wind back down as if he was marveling at his own handiwork. You should’ve been singing his praises, applauding him for his grand efforts. “There you go. Good fucking girl.”

Sex was one of the most powerful weapons in Mark’s arsenal. He sucked at relationships, but he could only walk away after claiming the best nut of your life.

After a moment or two out of the atmosphere, you came back to the ground, having just stopped tightening around Mark’s digits and shuddering involuntarily. You raised your eyes to meet his own, chest undulating. Gripping the arms of the chair for dear life. “Fuck you. You are the devil.”

Mark snickered, reluctantly recouping his fingers from between your legs. “Oh, yeah, baby. Fuck. I always loved that dirty mouth of yours.”

You rolled your eyes. He must’ve forgotten how good you were at taking back everything he stole from you and giving him damage tenfold in retaliation. Those sets of expletives would be escaping his pretty pink lips any minute now. This was only the beginning of the end.

Throwing your leg back down, you climbed out of the chaise, standing to your feet with a little stumble.

“Whoa there, baby. Be careful,” Mark said, grabbing a hold of your wobbling frame and holding you flush against his chest. “I’d hate it if something bad happened to you.”

God, you were weak in the fucking knees for this man. Literally.

You grabbed Mark by his suit tie and pushed him back first onto the chaise. His eyes went wide in surprise, but he quickly recovered and grinned. “Damn, babe. I like where this is going.”

You chuckled, crawling on top of him and pulling his face into yours. Mark’s hands were below your ribs, holding you in his arms while the two of you made out for what felt like an eternity. In the best way ever.

Mark grunted none too quietly when you felt his tight bulge pressed sharply to your core and mischievously got the clever idea to grind against it. The sound had you throbbing again, desperate to mount his cock then and there, but you were bent on teasing him at your own expense.

The wet smack of your lips meeting only enhanced your arousal further and while you did a significantly better job at keeping composed, Mark was losing his mind by the minute.

His hands dropped from your skin to his pants in an attempt to free his aching cock, but you were quicker, gathering his wrists in your palms and pinning them over his head. “Mm-mm. My turn, baby. Just… sit back and relax,” you mimicked, refusing to let him take the wheel.

Mark let you have your way with him. Frankly, he would let you do whatever you pleased.

You did the honor of unfastening Mark’s pants, pulling them and his underwear down his thighs just enough for his stiff cock to spring to attention. You licked your lips, salivating. The tension in your core got even tighter.

Mark groaned when you pressed your lips to the head of his cock, kissing it tenderly. That understanding, patient guy was nowhere to be found when his dick was involved. Or at least when he wasn’t the giver. Instead, Mark was less than human, a voracious beast that longed to feed.

Your tender kisses became delicate licks, neither of which provided Mark very much relief and you were aware. “Fuck. Baby,” he called out to you, hopeful that you’d quit the games soon. “Do something.”

“Something like… this?” you asked, gripping his hard cock and pumping him in your fist. Then, seconds later, you sucked him into your mouth, making all of the air flee Mark’s lungs.

Mark immediately cursed loudly. His cock hadn’t known this amount of relief since he left you and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Little did you know, Mark hadn’t fucked anyone else since you, either. It would’ve felt like cheating, like a betrayal, even though he knew that you were over.

Probably why Jodie had been throwing herself onto Johnny, hoping to get some dick, because the boy that brought her there only wanted to kiss her when you were there.

“Fuck,” Mark groaned like it was the only word he knew. It probably was, all things considered. It wasn’t uncommon for his mind to go blank when your lips were airtight around his cock. His whole body shuddered in sensitivity, having been aroused since he started eating you out.

And you were just sitting there, straddling him like a little devil, doing things to his cock that had him rethinking his whole life. Nobody had ever riled him up like this. Nobody instinctively knew how to get him off this quickly. Nobody, but you.

Mark was looking at you with a certain darkness when he somehow summoned enough willpower to ask, “Don’t finish me yet. Please.”

You came up for air, but obeyed his request. You were well aware that you could finish him both ways, but there was no way of knowing how much time you had left before something inevitably demanded your attention, and you wanted to ride him so badly it made your head spin.

Mark could finally breathe, but he should’ve known that it would’ve been short-lived. You didn’t waste a second to grab his cock and mount him, slowly but certainly sinking down to take it all.

Your wet walls were quick to clamp down on his thick cock, drawing a deep, low swear out of Mark’s lips. Your nails gripped his shoulders for purchase, eyes winced closed, taking a minute to relish in the feeling of being full again contentedly.

“Mark,” you whimpered, feeling yourself throb and tighten. You could’ve cried at the relief, so thrilled to be as close to Mark as your bodies could physically be again, and selfishly still aching for more.

Mark blinked through the haze in his mind that you had single-handedly constructed, thrown back into the mist the second he heard you call out his name. His eyes closed, mind flickering with images of you, recalling all of those times you rode the soul out of his dick.

You were an ethereal seductress, Mark was convinced, deceptively leading him to peril, rendering him helpless at the mercy of your enchanting charms. Your body did unspeakable things to him. With how tight you were around his cock, Mark would follow you to his demise.

Was it fucked up to have sex while people were dying all around you? Yes. But that’s what you and Mark were. Two fucked up kids who never got healing.

You felt healed when you were with each other, stripped to your truest forms, without fear of judgment. Mark taught you how to let go. You taught Mark how to let himself be loved.

At least you made up before you fucked. In your opinion? That was progress.

“Fuck, you ride me so good. I swear, you’re the best I’ve ever had,” Mark said, obsessed with your every motion as you rocked your hips down onto his cock, resuscitating all of those carnal sensations you woke up inside his soul.

The best I’ve ever had. Your mind was spiraling, faint from the heat burning your bodies up a thousand degrees hotter. Your body was built to take him, or at least it felt that way. Like the satisfaction you got from each other could only exist between the two of you.

Again, you grabbed Mark by his tie, pulling him in for another heart-stopping kiss. There was no hesitation. He kissed you back devilishly, getting a hold of your waist tightly, sucking on your tongue without bothering to be clean or slow about it.

You could kiss Mark until the day you died. You never wanted to forget how he tasted in your mouth. How he felt pressed flush against your semi-naked skin, your soft lips. How he looked at you like you were the only woman he’d ever loved, ruined for any other girl.

Mark wanted to complain when you parted from his lips, but suddenly they were on his neck and he sensed a shiver run down his spine, shock and pleasure taking the sound before it dared to leave his mouth. Your teeth grazed his collarbone, finding his pulse and sucking at it.

You watched Mark melt on the spot and giggled. Your friends and his friends were definitely going to clock the bright red marks on his throat, but neither of you could bring yourselves to care. If you wanted to suck and nibble at his neck, then by all means, Mark would let you do whatever you wanted.

Mark’s guttural groans were your greatest vice, making you noticeably throb around him, which thus only yanked a mouth-watering hiss out of his lips. He was looking at you through fluttering eyes, the corners of his vision dark and reeling, watching you ruin him from below.

To be fair, you already ruined him. All those days Mark spent waiting for you, waiting to hold you, were days of complete and total annihilation. Not only the ones after the breakup, but before it. Those days where he only watched you from afar, dwelling on you. Pining for you.

You separated from his neck to say, “God fucking damn. I love your dick. I love the way you feel inside me.”

As if Mark wasn’t already fighting off his looking orgasm. “Yeah?”

“No one will ever feel as good as you. I just wanna keep you close to me like this, Mark. Forever. I don’t want anything to come between us ever again and I won’t let it.”

“Me, too,” Mark wheezed, his breaths barely enough to keep him alive, though he didn’t mind it because he had you. You were on top of him, killing him softly and giving him life all at the same time, and it was more than he could handle.

You could tell from his tone of voice that he was dangling over the edge and was attempting to stave off his impending orgasm, holding himself at bay. Mark didn’t want this to end so soon. You just came back into his life and he wasn’t keen on letting go of those endorphins.

It wasn’t like you were far from release yourself. You couldn’t resist it, not when Mark kept making those sexy fucking sounds and your bodies were exchanging warmth. You couldn’t wait to take him to bed properly, bones tensing with the very desire to do things to him that you sadly couldn’t do here.

Mark felt the same way. He wished your clothes were completely off, but this would have to suffice for now and that was fine. This was enough to kill any man. Your soft sighs as you rolled your perfect hips, your bodies skin to skin, directly absorbing everything you did to each other.

You were too good to be true, as Mark said. He oftentimes thought he was dreaming. It was unbelievable that a girl of your caliber could love him through each of his many flaws and proudly stake her claim to him, and in a way, that was what you were doing now. Telling the whole universe that you were Mark’s and you didn’t give a fuck who saw.

Mark’s eyes tightened closed. You were making short work of him and he was minutes away from coming undone. Maybe seconds.

Taking one look at you Mark was both relieved and shattered out of his goddamn mind. For one, you were obviously also standing at the very threshold of climax, though he could’ve pieced that together from how vigorously you were riding him. To say the least.

But for two, you looked bewitching as hell with your face tensed in pleasure, and it was making the blood rush to Mark’s cock.

“Fuck. Shit. Fuck,” Mark cursed, because they were the only words that would come to his head, other than the occasional, “Jesus Christ.” It was safe to say that you had him right where you wanted him; so far over the edge that there was no returning. No going back.

You moaned his name, preparing to take him there. Mark was already gone. He blew his long blond hair out of his face so that he could take a better look at you, going to town like no other before you.

Mark hoped that you wouldn’t finish him earlier than he needed, that you wouldn’t pull out all of your priceless tricks, but he would’ve been naive to truly believe that you would let him off that easily. No, you wanted to wreck him thoroughly. The same way that he had wrecked you.

At long last it was time to reap what he’d sowed. And you absolutely did not intend to show him any mercy. You wanted to see him at his worst.

Finally, you leaned into Mark’s ear like he feared that you would, whispering in the velvetest voice you could, “Come on, baby. I know that you’re close. Don’t you wanna finish inside me?”

You hit the jackpot. Mark’s brain faltered at the thought of releasing his load inches deep inside of you, imagining the sated noise that you would make when you sensed him empty his balls inside of you. “Fuck.” The temptation burned hotter than before, sending tingles through his limbs.

“I’m gonna cum,” you told Mark in a shockingly level voice, though he could still hear a slight tremble in your tone. “And I want you to cum with me. Please?”

Mark bobbed his head. You were so deep in his head that he would do whatever you wanted, no matter how insane the request. Plus that sweet tone you were using on him was getting under his skin, making his face strain.

You quickened your pace, pulling out all of the stops to get him to finish, knowing he was weak and defenseless against your methods. Mark started to shudder and it became obvious that his fight was over. It was a telltale hint. You were going to get him off.

And then it hit him. It sped into him like a semi-truck on the interstate, a head-on collision that burst into an uncontrollable path of fire, setting him off. Mark cursed in the lowest tone he could make as he finally orgasmed, a steadfast grip on your hips.

His hips bucked up into yours as he rode out his high, releasing every drop of semen into your hot vice-like pussy. You moaned like he knew you would at the sensation, trembling with your second release, nails digging into his shoulders that were (thank fuck) safeguarded by his suit.

After all was said and done, you collapsed onto his chest, panting for breath. Mark took a few blinks to try and clear the misty look out of his eyes. They were dark and soulless, thanks to you. For half a minute, he swore he couldn’t barely see a damn thing.

Neither of you wanted to move for the longest time. You desperately wanted to remain there in Mark’s arms and he was content with just holding you there. Though in favor of looking presentable lest somebody caught you, you forced yourself to come up off his softening cock, grabbing a pool towel to clean up your mess.

Mark stubbornly fixed his clothes, though with the look on his face, all you could liken him to was a heartbroken puppy that nobody wanted to play with. “Dude. It’s already over.”

You checked your phone and chuckled, “Mark, it’s been like an hour.”

Right as you were about to set your phone back down on the poolside table, it vibrated in your hand, your screen flashing brightly. You glanced at it again, noticing a message from Johnny. Living room. Now.

You noticed Mark’s phone had also pinged when you flitted your gaze to him. “Johnny?”

“Yup,” Mark replied, suspicious. “What do you think? Set up?”

You huffed, “A hell of a smart one. Even if it is, we’ve got to go check it out.”

“Yeah, but I just wanna go home with you,” Mark grumbled under his breath.

You frowned, patting his back. This night would be over eventually, whether the daylight came first or Johnny ceasing it brought it on.

Mark stepped back, letting you tug your dress back down. You were wearing your thinking face again so it came to him as no shock when you asked, “Who do you think did it?”

“I don’t know. We’re all capable of the unspeakable.”

“That’s what scares me,” you whispered.

Mark’s lips made a line.

The two of you grabbed your weapons, tucking them back into their hiding spots. After making sure you looked presentable, you and Mark emerged from the pool area, not bothering to look like you weren’t together or you still loathed each other.

You loved Mark and Mark loved you. Why should you hide?

To your misfortune, you and Mark were the last to arrive, which inevitably gathered unwanted attention. Your attention, however, was on the gash on Jeno’s arm, and you came up to him to ask fretfully, “What the hell happened?”

“While you and Mark were obviously busy making babies, somebody attacked Jeno. At least we know it wasn’t you two,” Haechan said, the perfect balance of sweetness and venom in his tone.

Johnny glared, but continued, “That, and I noticed something from my case was missing. My mother’s necklace was stolen.”

You and Mark knowingly glanced at each other. It was you that said, “Well, I’m not saying she did it, but Chungha’s been paying very close attention to your case lately.”

Jeno hissed, “Is that what you’re worried about right now? I need a doctor! Johnny, you can’t possibly think we’re staying here all fucking night so that you can play Benoit Blanc.”

“First of all, I didn’t steal anything. If I wanted something, I would just ask. But your mother’s necklace? Johnny, I’m your friend,” Chungha replied as if it was the most absurd accusation ever.

Johnny hadn’t smiled in so long it was starting to become terrifying. And you honestly couldn’t blame him. First somebody tried to kill him, and now his dead mother’s necklace was stolen? You’d go ballistic, but Johnny was relatively level when he said, “I consider you all my friends. And yet one of you tried to shoot me dead.”

Chunga said nothing. Her lips were in a frown.

“So we’re just going to ignore me?” Jeno asked bitterly.

“It’s a light gash, not a bullet wound. If you don’t get an infection, you will be fine,” Jaehyun told him coolly.

Jeno grumbled something under his breath incoherently.

You patted his back compassionately. There was a lot going on and it was hard to divide your attention between Jeno’s cut and Johnny’s stolen items. “I don’t understand the purpose of this meeting. Awareness? What are we doing to figure out who’s behind all this bullshit?”

Jeno hummed in agreement.

“I don’t understand the purpose of these parties,” Haechan huffed exasperatedly. “Nevermind. Yes, I do. I know exactly why we come together every fucking year. We don’t see each other to ‘keep the peace’ or ‘remember Doyoung.’ We do it to forget. Forget what happened.”

Johnny opened his mouth to say something, but Haechan didn’t let him. And for once, you weren’t complaining.

Haechan glanced at Johnny’s glaring face and said, “Don’t look at me like that, man. We’ve all been thinking it. I’m just the only one with enough courage to admit it. We all committed a sin. Now that we have our fancy public lives, we wanna make sure the truth stays dead and buried.”

You glanced to your feet as Haechan went on this little tangent of his. It was supposed to make you uncomfortable. How could you live comfortably with what you’d done?

"Each of you come here to save your own fucking asses, because if the media finds out that you're killers, it makes Mom and Dad look bad. That's it. That's the purpose," he ranted, ending his tirade bluntly.

Well, he sure didn't beat around the bush. But that was the Haechan that you'd always known, confident and outspoken. To his right, Yuta was standing there, nodding along at everything he said in approval.

Jeno clapped his hands together. "You know what? I can't stand this guy, but round of applause. He's right."

You couldn’t argue even if you’d wanted to. After graduation, the group was indefinitely separated into pieces, but the eight of you agreed to never speak of what happened again. Of course, all of you went on to have successful careers, mostly because of who your parents were.

Mark was the only exception. Your relationship wasn’t only private to your friends, but to the whole world. And for a weird reason. In spite of his affluence, your mother would have a heart attack if she knew you were dating somebody that wasn’t born into his wealth.

Once upon a time, Mark Lee was a regular boy from Toronto. Somebody you vouched for and let into your circle, assuring him your friends weren’t just stuck-up rich kids. And he happened to make a killing doing something he loved.

You wished you could say the same.

Johnny said nothing for a long time, standing there with his hands posed behind his frame, which made you question him. It made you recall what Jeno had told you in that elevator a couple of hours earlier. People always look at the guy with his hands dirty. No one ever suspects the guy with his hands behind his back.

You glanced at the boy you were holding. Jeno noticed, peering back at you, but there was something different about his stare. Like there was something paining him. Then again, he did take a knife to one of his arms.

Your gaze flitted back to Johnny. But how could he be guilty? It would’ve taken an insane amount of self-assurance to think that he’d pull a stunt like this off. And Johnny had plenty, but it wasn’t in his nature. Instinctively, he was a protector. It was this man’s natural instinct to defend what he loved with his life.

Johnny leaving Yuta in that shack to search for a weapon wasn’t the whole tale. He left him there, but the weapon he found was the same one he used to kill your tormentor. This man risked his own life to put an end to the most traumatic night of your lives. Like that, the fight was over.

You narrowed your eyes. Somebody here was guilty. But it wasn’t Johnny.

“You’re all dismissed,” Johnny said after a long pause.

There was something recognizably off in Johnny’s tone, but you didn’t get the chance to ask questions, because Mark tugged you away from Jeno and led you down the hallway for all to see.

“Dude, what the hell?” you screeched.

Mark put his finger on his lips and said, “Somebody sliced up Jeno and I think that same person is framing Chungha.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” you huffed, rubbing your head. “I hope it wasn’t Haechan. He’s such a cancer.”

“Actually, he’s a Gemini.”

“That’s not…,” you trailed. “Nevermind. I love you, Mark.”

Mark still wasn’t used to hearing those words leaving your mouth again and instinctively he drew you into him, kissing you against the closest fucking wall with all of the affection within his very bones.

You were so happy that you forgot you were even there. That danger and death were sputtering and crepitating all around you, because none of it seemed to matter when you were with Mark.

“You didn’t tell me you two were back together.”

Jeno’s voice startled you back into brutal reality. You would recognize it anywhere, but the ferocity in it was foreign. And you quickly noticed the gun in his hand.

Mark tensed, but hid you behind him. He went to draw his own weapon, but Jeno threatened, “Any sudden moves and I’ll shoot.”

Your heart was racing. Fear coursed through your veins, but it was washed over by unadulterated anger. You broke out of Mark’s grasp, hissing, “What is this?”

“Baby, don’t,” Mark told you. There was worry in his eyes, but none for himself. All of it was for you.

Jeno laughed, but you could tell that deep down he was bristling. “No, let her. She just doesn’t fucking listen, does she? I told her that you were bad luck, and here she is with her tongue down your throat. You can’t save somebody that doesn’t want to be saved, Mark.”

Mark was irritated, but said nothing. Not with a gun pointed squarely at your chest.

It was overwhelmingly obvious now that Mark and his friends had been right about Jeno, but you hadn’t realized until now, when it was far too late. “You’ve been jealous this whole time?”

“Everybody else noticed that I was in love with you,” Jeno said with total vitriol. “Never you. You’re too busy sulking over Mark to pay me a lick of fucking attention.”

If it weren’t for the weapon glaring you down, you would’ve been tempted to give him a piece of your goddamn mind. The sting of the betrayal sitting in your gut numbed you to most of your fear, but not all of it.

An irrational, heartbroken man that felt entitled to your affection holding a gun? There was no telling what he would decide to do.

Jeno was spiraling and it was obvious. He was at the end of his tether which made him all the more dangerous, because that meant anything was fair game. “You know, I thought I took care of us. I thought that having Doyoung out of the picture would give you no choice but to look at me, but I was wrong. First it was Johnny. Then, it was Mark. It's like I wasn't even an option.”

Fighting back the incoming threat of tears, you shook your head and tried to keep your voice level, “You killed Doyoung so that you could have me?”

Jeno answered smartly, “Nah. That was all you, babe. But I would’ve done it. I would’ve done anything for us.”

Mark wanted to pull you out of harm’s way, but Jeno cocking his gun at him made him still. Never in his life had he felt so helpless. His heart was thudding so violently, twisting in his chest, because the girl he loved was in danger and he couldn’t do a damn thing to help her.

You couldn’t tell if he was addressing you or Mark when he said, “Love is a weakness. You want to, but you don’t want to. Your brain’s telling you this, but your heart’s telling you that. Who do you listen to? What’s good and what’s bad?”

Your head was spinning. Your muscles were tensing with the overpowering urge to attack, as were Mark’s, but you knew Jeno was a threat. You coaxed sweetly, “Jeno, put the gun down. You and I, we’re friends. We can talk this out like we always have.”

That only made Jeno’s rage worse and he snapped, “That right there is your fucking problem. You think I’m stupid. Don’t you know I can tell when you’re lying to me?”

You heaved a breath. If it weren’t for Mark’s body still pressed so closely to yours, you probably would’ve panicked.

Jeno was mercurial in his feelings, switching from resentful to indifferent, to petulant like a newborn child. His voice was wounded as he confessed, “I’ve spent so long wishing that I could have you there with me. And every time it feels like I get close, there’s another guy. I’m back where I started. It’s always one step forward and three steps back with you.”

You shook your head, slipping your fingers through Mark’s. “What’s your endgame then, Jeno? You know I’ll never be yours.”

“I know,” Jeno said, glaring as his eyes dropped to your intertwined hands. “And that’s why if I can’t have you, nobody will.”

There was a loud crackling in the air, so loud your ears started to ring, but you thought it was out of shock.

It was over before it even started. Mark shoved you out of the way, sending you barreling to the ground just in time for the gunshot to miss you, but pierce him through the shoulder.

Jeno wasn’t none too pleased about the bullet missing his ultimate target, but because he’d already gotten started, there was no way that he was stopping anytime soon. The second he raised his hand to fire another bullet, a second shot echoed out behind his frame.

You gasped when Jeno collapsed, a pool of blood peeking out from under him, but you crawled over to the body crouched beside him and shrieked, “Mark!”

Mark was leaning against the wall, taking inhale after exhale. You tried to reserve panic for later, taking off Mark’s coat and applying pressure to the wound. His eyes winced closed and he hissed, “Fuck! That hurts.”

“I know, baby. I know. But we’ve gotta stop the bleeding,” you replied, vision blurring from tears. You hoped to god the bullet missed his nerves.

Jaehyun came rushing over as Johnny looked over Jeno’s body, making certain that he was no longer a threat. He took his gun and said to Jaehyun, “Call emergency services.”

Jaehyun bobbed his head, pulling his phone out of his pocket immediately and calling a number he had on speed dial.

“Keep the pressure on him. I know it doesn’t look that serious in the movies, but a shoulder wound can kill him,” Johnny told you, intent on sitting there until an ambulance arrived.

In the corner of your eye, you noticed him pull a chain from Jeno’s coat and mumble something under his breath.

You briefly lifted one hand off Mark’s shoulder to wipe a tear away. Being with Mark again blinded you, tricking you into thinking that you’d finally be happy solely because you had Mark back, but this burst your bubble. It’d never be over. Days of living in unbroken fear would never stop. The internal warring would never end. It was a constant.

“I hate that sound,” you mumbled under your breath.

Mark’s voice was quiet, but he pressed his other hand to your forearm to let you know he was still there. “What sound?”

An invisible icy breeze crept over your shoulders, making you shudder as you replied, “Gunshots.”

“Then, we’ll go somewhere we’ll never have to hear them again. It’ll be just you and me. Maybe a family, if you want one.”

“I’d like that,” you whispered.

Mark smiled as wide as he could, squeezing your forearm.

“And then what happened?” Maxine asked.

Mark, holding your six-year-old daughter in his lap, answered, “I went to the hospital. Your mommy rode with me in the back of an ambulance.”

Turning the corner to your bedroom with cups of hot cocoa in your hands, you threw your husband a look and asked, “Is it a good idea to be telling our children about this, Mark?”

August swiftly begged, “Wait no. We want to hear the rest of the story about how Dad got his scar. Right, Maxi?”

Maxine bobbed her head. “Mommy, please?”

Mark’s bottom lip protruded, mimicking the cute pouts and puppy eyes of your shared children. “Please, Mama?”

You playfully rolled your eyes at your husband’s behavior, but he and your kids were too damn irresistible. “Oh, what the heck. Okay. Fine. Go on.”

Maxine stood on her father’s thighs, dancing excitedly in celebration. Mark watched her fondly, but kept a close eye to make sure she didn’t fall. August, on the other hand, simply smiled. He’d always been curious about you and his father’s life endeavors.

You passed cups of hot cocoa to your two kids, both of whom gave you a sweet, “Thank you.”

August took a sip and asked, “So, what happened at the hospital?”

“I had to get a surgery on my shoulder,” Mark explained. “When I woke up and I could keep my eyes open for longer than a few minutes at a time, it wasn’t Christmas eve anymore. It was New Years.”

You bobbed your head. “I spent Christmas with your father in that hospital. I was supposed to go home to have dinner with my parents and a bunch of shareholders, but I couldn’t leave his side. Especially not without knowing if he was okay.”

The only time you left was when you literally had no other option. Bathroom breaks or the doctors kindly asking for you to leave. The others occasionally came to give him a visit as well, but as long as Mark was there, that hospital was your new home.

Their company meant a lot back then. It helped not to be too lonely there from time to time. You half expected a huge, ‘I told you so’ or something from all of Mark’s friends, but they were surprisingly sympathetic.

Imagine Mark’s surprise when he woke up for good and you told him that Haechan had even hugged you.

Maxine’s eyes winced closed. “Ow! That’s hot,” she exclaimed, setting her mug on the nightstand.

“Careful, sweetie. You’ll burn yourself,” Mark said, eyes flickering with care.

Your lips curled into a grin. You liked watching Mark sometimes, like you weren’t even there. Here and there, you would peek around the corner after coming home, listening to the sounds of your husband fathering your kids. He was so attentive and patient with them. It meant everything to know your babies were in good hands.

Mark showed Maxine how to blow her hot cocoa and she mimicked his actions with cautious sips, demanding politely in between, “Keep talking. I wanna hear the rest of the story. Please?”

You chuckled. This little girl would follow up the most aggressive demand with a sweet-sounding ‘please?’

“Your mommy had to enlighten me on what happened after I went to the hospital, because I was too out of it to see the mystery unfold in real time,” Mark replied.

You nodded your head. You still remembered sitting there beside that hospital bed, ceaseless beeping fading into background noise after enough hours spent basically alone. You’d told Mark, “He tried to kill Johnny to throw off whatever investigation succeeded the shooting.”

Mark had blinked, processing. Thinking took entirely too much strength hooked to whatever equipment was keeping him alive in that damn hospital. “What about Jodie?”

“Jodie was collateral damage, maybe a surrogate. I was obviously the actual object of his rage. His endgame. It gives me chills, thinking about how he smiled in my face when he knew he wasn’t gonna leave that party till he or I was dead.”

The little flashback made you fight a sigh. People had betrayed you before, but none like that. You banished the thoughts away and kept entertaining your kids. Jeno was gone. In hell somewhere, hopefully.

As you snuggled under the blankets beside your son, he questioned curiously, “Who stabbed Jeno?”

“The medical examiner looked at him. She said the wound was obviously self-inflicted to a trained eye,” you replied with a snicker. At first, you were outraged. Nowadays, all you could do was laugh.

You weren’t even slightly worried about your kids comprehension skills as you regaled them on that ever so wonderful time in your life. Your kids were brilliant. Maybe it was all those books they liked to read, but you could have the most advanced back-and-forth conversation with those two and they would understand every single word. Sometimes it was frightening.

“And to think, he had such a fit over an injury he made himself,” Mark added, shaking his head in astonishment.

The thought made you want to roll your eyes, but another one made you want to burst into laughter. “God, do you remember his face when Jaehyun told him that he’d be fine? I think he and Johnny suspected Jeno was the killer.”

Maxine was beaming from ear to ear. “Uncle Johnny is so cool. Is he still coming over next weekend?”

You bobbed your head. “Yup. He said he has a surprise for you. And before you ask, I’m not telling.”

Maxine pouted. “Please?”

“Nope. Your cute tricks won’t work on me this time. I fortunately value my life and Uncle Johnny will kill me if I tell you,” you replied, crossing your arms.

Maxine sighed sadly. You hated it when she did that. It made you want to give her the entire universe.

Fortunately, Maxine forgot rather quickly, because she whipped around and asked her father, “Daddy, how long did it take you to heal?”

“I was all better the next day,” Mark lied through his teeth.

You deadpanned, “He’s lying. He was in the hospital for a week and it took three months before he was even slightly normal again.”

Then, you moved here. Jaehyun and Chungha came over to help you with interior design. Imagine your shock when you found out the reason they were suspiciously walking around Johnny’s penthouse was because they were sneaking around to kiss and hook up. Apparently, they were taking a page out of your book.

You glanced at the alarm clock on your nightstand. Noticing that it read eleven o’clock, you said enthusiastically, “Alright, kids. Who’s ready to open up their Christmas presents?”

There was a loud chorus of, “Me!” Your kids started to jump up and down on your bed in excitement, nearly crushing your legs, exactly as they had done when they woke you and your husband up a couple of hours ago.

Mark chimed in, “First one there gets to open up their biggest present first.”

Immediately, Maxine and August hopped off your bed, racing each other to the living room as quickly as possible before the other could get there.

You couldn’t help but giggle. Never in a billion years did you imagine having this future with Mark, but you were endlessly grateful. “Merry Christmas, love of my life.”

Mark leaned in to kiss your cheek. “Merry Christmas, baby. I’ve got a little surprise gift for you later.”

“Oh?”

Mark snickered at the mischief on your face. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?”

“Because you get that little look on your face,” Mark replied with a sly grin.

You shook your head, but you were still smiling. “Okay. If it’s not that, then what is it?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

“Okay, fine. Have it your way. I don’t care,” you groaned.

Mark was sporting the biggest smile ever. For what, you had absolutely no clue, until he pulled you for another kiss and confessed, “I’m so glad we made up that one Christmas.”

Your skin came alive against his. Your whole body was filled with bliss and wonder. You laid your head on his chest, feeling his heart race. “Me too, baby.”

#nct smut #nct 127 smut #mark lee smut #mark smut #nct dream smut #mark lee x reader #nct imagines #nct x reader #nct scenarios

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rick-rayson · 1 year

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Okay so weirdly specific, but could you do imagines for Yara Flor x Reader where reader is a villain who’s not evil, they’re just a Megamind type villain: a harmless theater kid who’s a good person. Also they’re a magic-themed villain and the Circe to Yara’s Diana

DRAMATICS

A/N: I put this into the same formatting as my Jonathan Crane post because the normal storytelling format just wasn't doing it for me (Don't ask how that works it just does) Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy and sorry for the long wait ORZ THIS IS KINDA LAME- BUT ALSO YARA IS DEF THE PERSON TO HATE THE MEGAMIND TYPES LOWKEY-

"Reader is a villain who’s not evil, they’re just a Megamind type villain: a harmless theater kid who’s a good person. Also they’re a magic-themed villain and the Circe to Yara’s Diana."

➯ Despite her many clashes with society, humanity and spectacles alike, Yara is a virtuous and giving woman who prides herself in her ability to stick up for others who cannot do it for themselves. She protects the people of São Paulo and speaks where they cannot be heard, to her core that is who Yara is. A protector. A warrior.

➯ It was an uneventful day, Yara took to helping civilians with the common thief and the occasional crook, picking up debris three times her height and mass as if it was akin to lifting a lone pebble. So, not very eventful for Yara but most definitely perplexing for the average citizen. It was, all things considered, calming.

➯ That was until Yara's ears pick up the sound of familiar and loud music that hurts her ears to even listen to. And with a groan of annoyance, she stands tall, already knowing what is to come.. or more like who.

➯ "Greetings, people of São Paulo! Your greatest nightmare has arrived!" You gloat, arms raised as you conjure up what Yara can comprehend to be coloured illusions of animals and fireworks. Usually, such a sight would enlighten Yara, it reminds her of the carnivals she's attended. But right now she's over this ploy of yours.

➯ You and Yara have been doing this game for far too long. (A month) A millennium, truly. You come in with an elaborate display and an evil plan that she easily thwarts with the flick of her wrist and the painful end of her golden Bolas. you somehow disappear and she's annoyed all over again.

➯ "We're doing this again? Have you no hobbies?" She grimaces at you, in the action of whirling a Bola. ➯ "This is the hobby, actually, so-"

➯ She throws a Bola at you, forcing you to construct a forcefield. "You know you are very volatile."

➯ "And you are very annoying." She mutters before she's leaping towards you, her fist barely missing your jaw.

➯ "It's been a while since I've been villain-ing so you could-" A poor construct of a pig takes the damning punch that was meant for you. It shatters like glass. "-make this less of a bad experience for me-"

➯ "I aim to make it worse." Yara smiles before sending a hearty punch to your nose.

➯ "And you're-" you wince as you hold your nose that was now sputtering with blood, "supposed to be the good guy-" Yara ties you up using her lasso.

➯ "Speak now or I throw you off this building, why do you do this?" She grits her teeth yet all you can think about is the small gap between you two.

➯ You make an attempt to shrug, "show....biz?"

➯ There's a pause, a beat, Yara's angered expression has now gone blank at the sound of your answer. And the silence is so long that not even the nosy civilians who've arrived are confident in breaking it. "Theatrics? You use your powers for theatrics?"

➯ "Mostly, yeah."

By the police arrive Yara leaves your legs tied together, the officers are quick to expect some manner of resistance but upon arriving at the site, all they see is you writing on the floor with a Sharpie. An officer slowly treads to make sense of what you're writing: "I am dramatic and I love Wonder Woman."

#dc x reader #dc comics #dc x y/n #dc x you #dc future state #future state wonder woman #future state justice league #yara flor x reader #yara flor x you #yara flor x y/n #yara flor #wonder woman x reader #wonderwoman #dcu comics #dc fanfic

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jjsstars · 4 months

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trays of cookies

|| posted on my ao3 | 1.4k+ word count

|| for @teenwolfrarepairevents event

|| tags: melissa & theo, scott/theo, pack mom melissa, theo is part of the pack, theo needs a hug, pre-slash, post canon

Theo shifts slightly in place, craning his neck back so he can look out the McCall’s living room window, he probably looks ridiculous in this position but he doesn’t care. He’s just looking to see what Scott and Stiles are doing in the driveway- they’re stood in front of Stiles’ jeep talking heatedly about something and Theo has a sick feeling it’s about him.

“Whatcha looking at Theo?” Liam leans into Theo’s side but all Theo gives is a small mph noise as a reply. If Stiles is telling Scott to kick him out- that it was a horrible idea to let Theo stay at the McCall house after everything- if Scott walks in and tells Theo to pack up all his stuff- Theo feels nauseous.

“Theo?” Liam asks again but Theo stands without another word and retreats into the kitchen.

It’s empty aside from Melissa taking a tray of cookies out of the oven, as she does during every pack meeting, because she’s like a mom out of a movie as Theo’s learned. His own mother was never this heartfelt but Melissa- she just knows.

“Wanna taste test them?” She grins at him and he can’t suppress the warmth that grows through his chest, stress momentarily forgotten.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” Melissa asks three cookies into eating a whole tray between her and Theo alone, they’ve done it before, in very similar situations actually.

Over the two months of Theo staying with the McCalls Melissa has found that food is his preferred way of bonding with people, he helps her bake when he feels guilty, makes dinner when Scott’s worked extra hard, gone on store trips just to refill their favorite tea flavors if neither McCall can make the time, and he likes to sit and eat with Melissa when things are rough. It’s usually baked goods but pasta gets thrown into the mix too, a dish Theo will eat until he gets sick and one Melissa finds great comfort in making. Years of not making much money after Rafael left lead to many, many, pasta nights- it’s no wonder Scott also holds it as one of his favorite meals just as Theo does.

“Stiles and Scott are arguing.” It comes out so much quicker than it used to that Melissa feels pride swell in her chest. It’s been a challenge to get Theo to feel comfortable in talking to her or Scott about his feelings, but here he is, with no ten minutes of bargaining or prodding.

“Oh?” She hadn’t seen Stiles and Scott arguing but they have been prone to it a lot more lately, for a million reasons but Melissa knows the main one is having Theo around.

At first she was right there with Stiles in his anger about Scott insisting that Theo should be a part of the pack. But then she found out he was sleeping in his truck and witnessed the puppy-dog look in his eyes when she handed over a fleece blanket for him to use that first night- and well, all bets were off. Sue her, she can’t not take care of a kid in need, especially not one her son ogles over either (not that Scott knows Melissa knows).

“They’ve been outside for a half hour.” Theo anxiously nibbles on the end of his cookie, eyes stuck on the counter top and shoulders hunched in. For a kid that Melissa has seen throw hunters through windows- he sure can make himself seem small.

“And you think they’re talking about you?” It’s not a real question as Melissa knows the answer.

“Stiles never looks that mad about anything else.” The mumble of Theo’s words reminds Melissa of when he was young and would come play in the backyard with Scott and Stiles.

He was shy in every right, mumbled his way through words, blushed sheepishly at even the smallest compliment, looked at her in awe anytime she’d hand him a glass of juice or tied his shoe, always staring at Scott and Melissa like they were this magical duo that he’d never seen before. She remembers his parents too- how cold and distant they were, how little care they’d show if Theo got a scrape on his knee, how they’d tell Theo to stop “being rude” when he’d eagerly agree to have dinner at the McCalls because to his parents that was “overstaying his welcome”- god Melissa remembers ranting to Noah about how frustrating Theo’s parents were. She had no idea how bad that family was until it was far too late.

“You know we’d never kick you out.” While Melissa wishes she could say that in full confidence, she can’t, she knows Theo still keeps a small go-bag tucked into the closet of his room for if he ever has to leave in a hurry again, ever gets kicked to the curb again.

“Stiles is Scott’s best friend, Kira said he’s like your second son, I don’t want to come between any of that.” The same puppy-dog look appears on Theo’s face when he turns to look at Melissa head on.

“Oh sweetheart, you won’t. Scott wants you here, I want you here, Stiles will come around. Stilinski’s are stubborn and always have been, just be patient.” That entire family is stubborn to no end, even Claudia had her moments that made Melissa feel genuinely impressed in the commitment to her stubbornness.

“What if Scott decides he doesn’t want me here anymore?” Melissa shakes her head instantly, nearly laughing at the thought.

She knows her son in and out like no other and she knows he’s falling head over heels for Theo, has been since he showed back up too. After Theo got sent down to the skinwalker hell Scott was a mess but not in the normal way, no, no he was heartbroken. Melissa would know that look on her son’s face any day, and same goes for the opposite, she knows how he looks when he’s in love and Theo brings that look out. The same way Allison did. And Kira at one point.

“He won’t, you just have to trust him.” That seems to strike the right spot in Theo as he looks up with a small but serious nod.

Of course he trusts Scott the same way all the pack does, but Melissa also knows it goes deeper than that. It took time for Theo to gain that trust in Scott and for Scott to do the same in Theo- there was what felt like a lifetime of reasons as to why the pair should’ve never made up nor even looked at one another again, but Scott’s never been one for relying on odds and Theo has sure as hell put in the work to show he doesn’t either. It warms Melissa’s heart when she thinks about how close the two have become over the time Theo’s been staying with them; they bring out a softness in each other that she doesn’t see them have with anyone else.

“What’re you two talking about?” Speaking of Scott, he comes to lean on the counter in front of Melissa and Theo with a tired grin on his face. That argument must’ve been a bad one, Melissa makes a mental note to ask about it later on, to check in on not only Scott but also if she needs to sit Stiles down and tell him to lay off.

“If the cookies need less salt in the recipe.” That prompts Scott to take a cookie off the still warm tray, all but falling to his knees as he bites into the melted chocolate chips and crunchy edge.

“I can’t taste any salt, they’re perfect to me.” He smiles but is staring at Theo more than Melissa- despite knowing she made the cookies and has been using the same recipe since he was a child.

“You say that every time.” No matter what Theo or Melissa makes, it’s always perfect to Scott, even when the dish has to be spit out into napkins he insists it was good, that he’s grateful for it. Melissa has no idea how she raised such a great kid.

“I mean it every time. Do you wanna bring these out to the rest of the pack or are you guys gonna finish them off yourself?” While Melissa gives a playful eye roll to Scott, Theo blushes and sheepishly ducks his head away- once again reminding Melissa that he really is the same kid he’s always been.

“You two go into the other room and I’ll bring them in a minute, I can add in the ones that are already in a container.” Both boys nod and trail off towards the living room, shoulders brushing as they walk; Melissa can only shake her head and hope they figure it out soon.

#jj writes #theo raeken #melissa mccall #scott mccall #melissa mccall & theo raeken #theo x scott #teen wolf #twrarepair #twrp character of the month

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mamalaw1021 · 7 months

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Hey tumblr -

Next month, Kerry Taylor Auctions is running a charity event for The Bright Foundation featuring 69 lots of cinema costumes from Cosprop.

Lots include items like

Drew Barrymore's masquerade costume from Ever After.

Johnny Depp's costume for Ichabod Crane from Sleepy Hollow.

Emma Woodhouse dresses from both Gwyneth Paltrow and Anya Taylor-Joy's Emma films.

Mr. Darcy's infamous wet shirt look from the A&E Pride & Prejudice.

One of Kate Winslet's costumes from Finding Neverland and one of Emma Thompson's gorgeous dresses from Howard's End.

As well as others worn by the likes of:

MADONNA • HEATH LEDGER • ELIZABETH TAYLOR • MERYL STREEP • KEIRA KNIGHTLEY •  MARGOT ROBBIE • UMA THURMAN • RENEE ZELLWEGER • HELENA BONHAM CARTER • JULIE ANDREWS  • JUDI DENCH • EDDIE REDMAYNE • DANIEL RADCLIFFE

Or costumes from TV dramas including: DOWNTON ABBEY • PEAKYBLINDERS • POLDARK • POIROT •

There's a lot of truly remarkable pieces here.

#ever after: a cinderella story #drew barrymore #johnny depp #ichabod crane #sleepy hollow #emma #emma woodhouse #gwyneth paltrow #anya taylor joy #colin firth #mr Darcy #pride & prejudice #kate Winslet #finding neverland #sylvia Llewelyn davies #emma Thompson #Howard's end #Margaret schlegel

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lullabyes22-blog · 2 years

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Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO - Ch: 9 - Powder

Summary: Zaun is free—and must grow into its unfamiliar new dimensions. So must Silco and Jinx. A what-if that diverges midway through the events of episode 8. Found family and fluff, politics and power, smut and slice-of-life, villainy and vengeance.

AO3 - Forward, But Never Forget/XOXO

FFnet - Forward, But Never Forget (XOXO)

Playlist on Youtube

Chapters: 1| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48

CH 9: Vi and Caitlyn bite off more than they can chew.

Tw: aftermath of war, violence, police brutality, hazing, parentification, implications of sexual abuse.

Gonna get my pound of flesh Burn it 'til there's nothing left Think you you can handle this? Yeah, you wanna bet?

~ "Mutiny" – Neoni

It smells like rotting rainfall.

Exiting the air-conditioned oasis of the Hexadraulic Elevator, Vi is engulfed in the stench. It is one she'd always associated with the Undercity. The smell of home. The first thing that hits is the humidity: like being folded into a sodden body-bag. The second is the texture in the air: slick and gritty at once.

Above, there is a scudding of storm-clouds. A hazy ring of green smog traces the skyline.

For a moment, Vi just—breathes. Her heart is beating fast; she'd put it down as nerves. Her gait feels unsteady; she'd dismissed it at the same. Now she realizes it's the change in the atmosphere. In Piltover, she'd been caught off-guard by the cleanness. Or better put: the absence.

The Undercity is different. A presence, so palpable she can feel its foul density pushing into her lungs.

Vi takes a slow breath, and exhales.

It's just air. She'll get used to it.

Six months since she's been down here. Things have changed. The aftermath of the Undercity's standoff with Piltover still irradiates the atmosphere. It stains each surface, from the crumbling old mortar buildings at the Promenade, to the patched-up neon casinos piled gaudily along the Riverside harbor, right down to the construction cranes and cyclone fencing beneath the shadow of the Old Hungry. Here and there, Vi glimpses bombsites, unnerving in their emptiness; like holes blasted into a beloved face.

Life is already creeping through their cracks. Catastrophe robs Fissurefolk of everything but their will to keep living.

Vi nearly smiles. But sorrow has calcified her muscles. Her lips barely twitch.

Her two Enforcer escorts—big of muscle and stupid of eye—step beyond the checkpoint. One coughs and fishes for a gas mask. The other breathes audibly through his sleeve.

“Cho'Gath on a cracker,” he grunts. “It’s bad as ever.”

“Like raw sewage.” Jerome wheezes into his mask. “With potato fries.”

Vi scoffs. "You'd eat 'em anyhow."

They crack into laughter. Not because they have a sense of humor. Their laughter is just a way to prove their manliness. Or whatever the hell passes for pride with Piltie menfolk. They try too hard. It makes them easy marks.

Thank Janna Vi is making the trip alone.

"You must be happy," Jerome sneers. "Home sweet home, eh?"

"Home stinky home, you mean," Timothy sniggers.

Vi deadpans, "Yep. I'm all choked up."

They burst into laughter again. She lets them. She doesn't care what they think. She never cares about the opinions of people who look down on others for being different. And these men are soft, on top of stupid. None of them would survive a night in Stillwater, or a bare-knuckled brawl in the Lanes.

Or, let's face it, a sip of the tapwater.

"Now remember," Jerome says, wagging a finger. "No insubordination."

"Right."

"You follow the rules down here. Ours. Not theirs."

"Uh-huh."

"Go straight to the local liaison. Like the Council ordered. No detours. No delays. Got me?"

"Got it."

Timothy sets a hand on Vi's shoulder. "Be a good girl, Vi-pie"

Vi meets his eyes, and congratulates herself for not decking him. There's no friendliness in the gesture. Just another attempt to assert dominance. Play the big man to the little woman. The high and mighty Piltie lording it over the lowborn Sumpsnipe.

She pastes on a false smile. "Sure." A beat. "Timmy-Wimmy"

His face flushes an ugly color of purple. Vi's smile turns real.

Shoving her hands deep in her pockets, she shoulders past them. Their angry stares burn into the back of her neck.

She doesn’t care.

Nothing matters except why she came here.

Beyond the steel barricade sit the Boundary Markets. Late evening, and the city throbs with life. To the left, the bright-glassed storefronts and festooned awnings of bazaars. To the right, the green-gray slice of the Pilt between monochrome office buildings. Practically anything of value—iron, glass, wood, leather, wire—has been salvaged from the disaster sites for resale. The sidewalks are crowded with pedestrians: clerks spilling outdoors after work with loosened ties and unbuckled galoshes, shopgirls collecting their laundry in brown paper parcels, families on trips to the grocer with children squabbling at their heels.

Language is a familiar medley. Vi shuffles through the voices like a deck of cards: Standard, Shuriman, Ionian, Va-Nox. High on variety, low on content. Just the usual brays of, "How much?" "D'you want to get a drink?" "Shit—there's gunk on my shoe!" "Is this a good club?"

The anthem of post-apocalypse.

All the hurly-burly can't conceal a haze of shellshock in the air. Or maybe the shellshock is all Vi's? She'd barely slept the night before. Her dreams were disorienting—a hellish redness like at the Bridge. She'd turned her head to where Mom lay crumpled on the cobblestones, her eyes staring glassily. Except it was Vander, his hulking coat of muscle unzipped into spoiling purple meat.

Powder was crouched beside him. Everything about her was misshapen—her braids too long, her skin etched with tattoos, her smile too wide. She'd been whispering as she played with something. Vi couldn't see what. Maybe a gadget? A toy? Pow was always talking to her toys, remarks that used to crack Vi up. Sometimes, she'd stand outside their shared room at the Drop’s basement, listening in. Sometimes Vander would be there, his eyes shining as he mouthed, Where's she come up with this stuff?

Then Silco stole everything.

Stole Powder, and broke her, so now whenever Vi remembers her sister, it's from inside the eerie glittering shell of Jinx.

The rage builds in Vi like a strangling scream. At the Bridge, she'd seen Jinx's carnage unfold. The firelights. The bombs. The bodies. She'd let Ekko handle Jinx—I’m so sorry Ekko—and crossed with Caitlyn to the other side. She'd felt the rumble of the grenade blast in her bones. She'd stood trapped behind bars of striped shadow while the smoke faded. She'd watched Enforcers swarm the scene.

She'd done nothing.

Meanwhile Silco took her sister, and she'd let it happen. Again. She'd failed to protect Powder, and failed Ekko, and Vander, and everyone in the Lanes, and she could never take it back. She couldn't take back the past, but she could change the present, the same way the past had changed hers.

She wasn't the girl thrown into Stillwater. The girl whose family was devoured by a monster. The girl who ran away when she should've fought. That girl is gone, and she'd grown into someone who has survived, and bided her time, and grown stronger. She won't run this time. She'll face the monster.

No.

Scratch that.

The monster will face her.

In the sky, the clouds thicken and the green drains into gray. Raindrops begin pattering the pavement. Within moments, like a bucket upending, it becomes a downpour.

Vi ducks under an awning. There is a pocket umbrella stowed inside her jacket, but she doesn't fish it out. She uses the moment to catalogue her surroundings. A sumpsnipe's reflex that the Peacekeeper Academy has layered with more sophisticated tricks. Evasive maneuvers. Vigilance. Stealth.

The Peacekeeper Academy.

Vi would never have set foot inside the place. Not unless handcuffed. And yet violent circumstances belowground had compelled Vi to make a choice once unthinkable.

She'd joined the Enforcers.

The Enforcers, who'd amputated her and Powder from their parents. The Enforcers, who'd spread brutality in the Lanes. The Enforcers, who'd kept the Undercity in squalor for the sake of safeguarding Piltover.

The Enforcers, who had access to Piltie funds, government databases, and legal resources. The department was mired in corruption—but the Council, under the pretty-boy Talis, was finally doing something about it. The Peacekeepers were a newly formed division, meant to serve as both liaisons and buffers between Piltover and neighboring territories. They could act with a measure of diplomatic immunity, and had clearance to pass between nation states.

Including Zaun.

Vi could say her reasons for enlisting were rational. Pragmatic, even. She knows better. The weeks of carnage between Piltover and the Undercity were horrific. She'd seen bystanders blown apart by shelling. She'd seen an old man twitching in death throes at the Bridge. She'd seen a little girl floating facedown in the bloodied Pilt. So much death and suffering. She needed to protect people, people like Powder, and she felt diminished, powerless, by what she couldn't do for them.

During the conflict between Piltover and the Fissures.

During the reunion with her sister.

During the disaster at the cannery.

None of those events transpired in a vacuum. A monster created them. The same monster who sat at Zaun's pinnacle, ready to hurt more people. Ruin more lives. She hated him. She needed to stop him. Not just his schemes and stratagems. She needed to take down his empire.

And save her sister.

The Peacekeepers were a means to an end. But Vi never expected to land the position. Sometimes she wonders if Caitlyn's mom pulled strings. Something to get Vi standing on her own feet, with a salaried job and a place of her own. Her two-week layover chez Kirraman had already stretched to a month. Caitlyn would have let Vi stay longer. She'd told her plenty of times, with that sweet confiding smile that could've melted chocolate.

But Vi refused to survive off charity. She'd survived off worse.

So she'd applied with the Peacekeepers. She'd endured a battery of interviews. Then came the tests: physical fitness, background checks, polygraphs. Her criminal record had been expunged by the Council for information on Silco, and an insider's view into the Undercity. Caitlyn had pulled all-nighters with Vi to prep her for the written portion. The physical, she'd passed without breaking a sweat. There was nobody she couldn't crush on the mat or outpace in the obstacle courses.

The polygraph gave her a little trouble. She'd practiced saying the right things. She'd done a trial run with Caitlyn on equipment that they'd… borrowed… from the office's interrogation unit. She'd passed with flying colors. During the real interview though, she'd had blips on a few questions: Have you committed any major crimes? and Have you ever inflicted physical injury to a child in your care?

The indicia weren't enough to trigger alarms. But the interviewer brought them to Vi's attention. She'd stuck to her answers: No, on both counts.

Afterward, she'd broken down sobbing in an empty alleyway, and cracked the wall with her bare fist.

The rainfall skitters off the awning like marbles. Vi takes a slow breath, and leans against the wall. She observes the oily froth of traffic, attuning herself to the rhythms of the Undercity.

Zaun.

To look at her, you might believe she was still a local. Her street clothes are nondescript: red-striped jacket, white undershirt and jeans, the labels cut away. Her boots are the same: plain, but with strong grip. Good for staying on her feet during 12-hour patrols in downtown Piltover, but also for vaulting to the closest rooftop in an emergency belowground.

Low-key in all but one respect: she is armed to the teeth.

Beneath her untucked shirt, clipped with a belt at her spine, she carries a spool of grappling wire. A switchblade is tucked into the specially-stitched pocket of her pants, and an Emerson folder is concealed in her wallet.

Hardly her full freight. But the precautions are necessary.

She wasn't allowed to take the Hexgauntlets. She didn't have the clearance with the Wardens. Even if she did, she was less concerned with administrative crap than with personal headaches. It already took a month of back-and-forth bullshitting—oops, her bad, diplomacy—between Councilor Medarda and Silco to let her set foot belowground. Next they'd taken forever on the regulations for Piltovan firearms within Zaun's borders.

In the end, Vi was allowed a pen-sized canister of mace. Not Academy-issue. The kind of crap a tourist would carry.

Well, Vi thought, Fuck you too.

At the final checkpoint, Zaun's blackguards had searched her top-to-toe. But she'd still managed to smuggle the contraband inside. A security guard—a schoolmate of Caitlyn's—had stashed the weapons in the Hexadraulic Lift. Vi had collected them during the last leg of her journey. Zaun's security was none the wiser.

It might blow up in her face later. But she doesn't care. She doesn't care about anything except getting to Powder.

Raindrops hit the bridge of Vi's nose and trickle down her cheekbone. On a surge of bitter nostalgia, she shuts her eyes.

(Soon, Pow-Pow.)

(I'll get you out of here.)

The rain softens to a luminous mizzle. Vi takes her cue. She palms a cherry-sized gizmo from out of her pocket. And tosses it into the air.

It leaps high—and flits off.

Likewise, Vi pushes off the wall and takes off. In her ear, Caitlyn's voice thrums. "All clear."

"Okay," Vi says.

They are keeping touch with a tiny pair of microprocessor earpieces. A Hex-technology that hasn't yet gone public. Each earpiece operates in burst transmissions to preclude eavesdropping by a surveillance team. The equipment is a convenient proxy for other methods of communication, like radios, which can be jammed.

Vi can't ignore the prickling paranoia that this is an elaborate setup on Silco's part. Nor, apparently, can Caitlyn. To preempt the possibility, Caitlyn is currently dawdling at the vibrant night-markets by the Boundary. She has a video-fed controller wired to a cherry-sized Hex-drone. The same one that Vi just tossed skyward. Through it, Caitlyn can observe the periphery.

For tails.

Or threats.

Vi moves smoothly, fitting through the small spaces in the crowd. So far, no one has set off her radar. But that means nothing in and of itself. If Silco is having her shadowed, his crew will be pros. They won't favor the soft-target strategy. Most likely, one half will handle recon, the other half action. The last few will stay back, potentially with reinforcements, and serve as a makeshift mission-control.

The natural question is, Will they hurt me?

Vi ignores it in favor of what's more relevant to her survival, How do I get rid of 'em?

She knows, if she puts her mind to it, she could evade them as long as need be. She knows the terrain. But why bother? She's not interested in a game of cat-and-mouse, always looking over her shoulder and second-guessing. Nor is she interested in politely contacting the Zaunite liaison.

She's not here to play by Piltover's rules. Or Silco's.

If there are tails, she's ready to disorient them. If there are threats, she's ready to trounce them.

Vi passes beneath the colorful awnings and smoking chimneypots of Nosh Avenue. It was named after the coffee-stalls, patisseries, delicatessens and tea houses glowing through its hivelike streets. Nothing fancy. The poky little establishments would've appalled any Topsider daring a closer look. But for Vi they always held the powerful allure.

She remembers wandering the jumbled paradise with Mylo and Claggor. Sometimes Powder would tag along, little fingers folded through Vi', her eyes aglow with childish glee. They'd laugh together, boiling over with restless energy: Mylo and Claggor jostling, Powder making cute little wisecracks, Vi keeping her eyes peeled for a spot they'd liked the last time.

Shops popped up and vanished so quickly in Vander's heyday. Most were driven out of business by gangs. Others lost custom because Enforcers prowled the streets, regularly stopping and frisking anyone who looked at them cross-eyed.

Nosh Avenue looks so different now. The hodgepodge of stalls have been swept clear as if by a gale. Instead, there is a glossy honeycomb of dinettes and cafes, tier upon tier, festooned in neon and brightly glassed. A declaration of a different future, one where the grime of the Undercity will be replaced by a Zaun that's no different from Piltover: posh, paved and pristine.

It would be almost attractive. Except, of course, it's Silco's handiwork

Vi wends her way through the increasingly dense crowds. Stopping to eye the barbecued wares behind the soot-flecked glass, and the reflections of the moving pedestrians, she says, "Nothing so far."

"Stay alert."

Vi drifts on, her gait steady, while a small piece of her gut chews itself to pieces. She doesn't like to think of Caitlyn, alone, her unarmed body at the Boundary like a living vein of vulnerability. She's taking risks on Vi's behalf. Too many risks. If something happens to her—

Vi pulls the plug on the thoughts. She has to stay focused.

She has to get to Powder.

She is near the intersection when she spots the first tail. A long-boned male, with a bald head and an intricate geometric tattoo on one sinewy arm. The man is at a noodle stand, the semi-shaded booth offering both privacy and an unobstructed view of the streets.

Vi thinks, That's #1.

Outwardly, she stays relaxed, offering no sign that the man has even registered on her radar. Her tail is similarly discreet. When Vi stops at the traffic light with the other pedestrians, the man maintains a safe distance. Once the light goes green, he doesn't follow Vi so much as bob in and out of the margins, a cork in the tide of the crowd.

Halfway down the street, Vi spots the second tail. A woman, in a brightly-patterned caftan, her hair gelled into green cornrows. She lounges at the outdoor dining patio of a café. She meets Vi's eyes only in passing, exhales something under her breath, and looks away.

On the mental tallyboard, Vi marks, That's #2.

Her heart judders in her fingertips and temples: the first lick of adrenaline.

Casually, she strolls along the glossy shopping district, where sleekly-groomed women and sharp-dressed men spill in and out of an emporium's revolving doors with oversized bags. Watching them gives Vi a pang. Following the war, there were rumors of riots and curfews in the Fissures. Piltover's border patrol, from their vantage at the arrow-headed promontory, reported bursts of flame from the darkened city stretching below.

Now it’s like nothing happened. The meandering strip of the Promenade is contoured in neon and flush with trade. And yet there is still so much poverty—beggars, homeless bums, children practically in rags, some toiling away as slop-cleaners, others as bootblacks.

They were around in Vander's tenure too. But the fancy shops and flashing lights make their presence that much starker.

Silco may have brought more money to the Undercity. But it's only for a special few.

Vi pretends to browse the luxury goods on display in the storefronts. She pops in and out of a few more downscale shops, before reemerging with a blue shopping tote in one hand. To onlookers, it seems as if she's picked up a last-minute gift.

In the periphery, her pursuers keep pace. She pegs them as the reconnaissance unit: logging her routes and giving their counterparts the run-down. The latter won't converge until she is well clear of the tourist district. They are still too close to Piltover. The number of uniformed Piltie patrolmen at the Boundaries would inhibit even the ballsiest hit-team—no matter how Silco spins it afterward.

From a vending machine, Vi buys a bottle of cherry soda. Popping the top, she takes a sip, and murmurs, "Just made two tails."

In her ear, Caitlyin says, "All clear on your left and right."

"I'm crossing into Entresol. Can you gimme a visual at the next chokepoint?"

"I can, and will."

"Thanks, Cupcake."

Gradually, the seething crowds grow sparser. The street cuts sharply south, spanning a narrow incline that splits into a spider's web of alleys. In the distance, Janna’s Temple looms. Vi remembers it as a bare stone façade with leftover scorch-marks from Bloody Sunday—the night Enforcers flung grenades at six-dozen worshipers, killing mostly women and children. The bloodbath had triggered riots and culminated in the Day of Ash.

The night Vi lost Mom and Dad.

The Temple isn’t bare now. It is a world of mirrored lanterns and brightly colored smoke against a darkening sky. In the small courtyard, worshipers throng, hands reaching toward the painted golden gates in invocation. Drumbeats stir the air in a hypnotic rhythm. Vi catches the sweet whiff of hashish and the more savory aroma of stew bubbling in the open kitchens.

The goddess’ maxim, Janna Omnia Amat—Janna Loves All—glitters on a plaque festooned in cavern-blossoms.

Janna can afford to love all. She’s a damn goddess.

Vi’s own life hinges on nastier choices.

As her route progresses, she switches tacks—from nonchalant strides to increasingly aggressive twists and turns, no longer luring her tails, but forcing them to either retreat or come out in the open.

Within minutes, her two pursuers fall back. It signals no relief. Now the secondary team—the bone-breakers—will come out to play.

Sure enough, once Vi turns a corner, footfalls echo after her.

Vi doesn't glance around. She moves down a narrow potholed alley. In the late-evening hours, it is a remote green-lit dreamscape, lined on each side by ashen buildings. They give off the dank, weeping smell of old gravestones. There is no other sign of life anywhere.

Then, in the puddles along the cobblestones, Vi glimpses the reflection of a flitting shape.

The Hex-drone.

In her ear, Caitlyn says, "Two targets spotted. One behind you at thirty meters, one ahead at fifty meters."

"How long 'till they converge?"

"One minute and ten seconds."

"I'm signing off," Vi says.

"Vi—please be careful."

"I will."

She sips her soda, the adrenaline icing up her spine. At the same time, she makes her first offensive move, finesse inverting to speed. Breaking rhythm with the footsteps behind her, Vi darts to the right. There are a cluster of neon signboards below an old-fashioned alcove in the alleyway, half-enveloped in darkness. Eye-blink fast, Vi vaults the farthest one, and climbs the gritty walls, using the crevasse of pipes as footholds.

There, she crouches in darkness, balanced on a dusty overhang. An aluminum vent bellows on her left, its outline a hellish orange. A heat exchange whooshes to her right, sucking air into the brickwork building. The sounds, like the wings of monstrous metal birds, muffle the crinkling from Vi's shopping tote.

From inside, she fishes out a pair of pantyhose, in black nylon. Into each toe, she slips two identical souvenirs, heavy-duty metal and shaped like oversized dice, then ties the material above the ankles, so their weight clacks solidly together. Then she takes another sip of her soda.

Below, her first pursuer passes the jumble of signboards. Vi listens to his footsteps, clattering in the dark, then fading as he crosses Vi's hiding spot. Taking a steadying breath, Vi gives the man five seconds to realize that he's lost his target. At the opposite end of the alleyway, the other goon—now face-to-face with his counterpart—will come to the same conclusion.

Their surprise offers Vi a critical window.

Now.

Vi drops like a shadow. The moment her boots touch the cobblestones, she charges.

Her periphery blurs into blackness. There is only her unstoppable momentum and the whistling wind and the red-lit halo of the alley's mouth where the two heavyset goons stand below a neon wire artwork—a pair of red boxing-gloves—in featureless silhouettes.

They turn towards Vi as one. The first goon's mouth drops on a ragged, "Oh fu—" while the second, with better reflexes, lifts his right arm up and out. A snub-nosed chem-taser glints in his fist. He flicks the switch.

A whorl of purplish energy punches through the air, streaking towards Vi.

Vi dodges left, feeling the blast buzzsaw millimeters from her ear. It slams into the wall behind her, shards exploding in all directions. Vi doesn't falter or slow, but leaps forward in the same path of movement.

Before the goon can fire off another shot, Vi lashes out with the weighted ends of the pantyhose. They collide with the side of the man's jaw, a satisfying crunch. The goon staggers back in shock, his eyes losing focus, and his lapse buys Vi enough time to whirl in the same movement, kicking out at the second goon's knee. The man howls and lurches forward, his head at an angle for Vi to spit a mouthful of tepid cherry soda right into his eyes.

With a cry of pained disgust, the goon lifts a hand to swipe at his face. Vi's own hand is faster. Her fist slams against the man's nose, and tendrils of blood pop off her knuckles. The K.O. is instantaneous. The man jerks like a marionette, eyes rolling back, then drops as if his strings were cut off.

Blam.

A second walloping of energy nearly catches Vi's left shoulder with enough force to shove her sideways. She feels the fabric of her shirt singe, feels a streak of blood spread hot and slick against her skin. She rolls, drops down sideways, her stance low and narrow.

The first goon has recovered from the blow with the dice. Now he braces his chem-taser like a beretta fired straight from the hip. The energy blast shoots out with a strobelike flash. Vi evades, and a hole punches through the wall behind her, plaster flying to reveal corroded metal undergirding.

The goon torques his torso to fire off a third shot. By then, Vi has already struck, lightning-fast and going for broke, her grappling wire whipping out to wrap itself around her opponent's upraised arm. She yanks, and he stumbles face-first.

Right into her slamming kneecap.

The impact drives itself so deep into the man's face that it nearly inverts itself inside-out. In the next breath, his head caroms off her knee and he stumbles backward. His expression is dazed, as if he has utterly no frame of reference for the magnitude of pain he is experiencing.

Tough shit.

Vi hits him with a rapid-fire one-two. The man drops to the pavement with a boneless thud. Out cold. Meanwhile, his partner twitches to life. Vi steps over the first body and goes to him. He is stirring feebly, his shallow breaths intermixed with retching sounds. When Vi approaches, he tries to crawl away. Vi plants a foot between his shoulderblades and slams him back to the ground.

Time is short. In the next five minutes, the recon duo will notice their teammates' radio silence. Alarms will be raised, and back-up deployed.

Vi needs to complete her interrogation in that time-frame.

Five minutes in total.

With a quick efficiency, Vi pats the man down for hidden weapons or wires or wallets—something she'd never have considered before the Academy. He's unarmed. But from the pocket of his trousers, she retrieves the wallet. She flips it open. No ID, but a business card. Kieran Marshall, a captain of Zaun's blackguards.

Beneath Vi, the man croaks, "Wait—you—you—"

Vi comes down hard on top of him, knees pinned to his hips. Snatching up a fistful of damp hair, she yanks the man's head up and back, throat bared to the enfolding vise of her elbow.

"Any special reason you guys were following me?" she asks.

The man makes a wheezing sound, working his jaw back and forth. Vi's attack probably dislocated it. Still, it's hardly an excuse to turn shy. He is just stalling for time.

Keeping arm around his throat, Vi makes a wedge of three fingers in her other hand, jabbing them hard into the man's side. There is a burbling noise like someone flailing in the deep-end of the pool. The blackguard spasms, then forces himself to still.

"All right," he pants, "All right. We—we work for the head of War and Treasury—"

"Who?"

"Sevika," he groans.

Vi cocks her head.

Sevika? In charge of war and treasury?

Shit—Silco really is turning nepotism into an art form. What's next? Will that tatted-up henchman from Stillwater be Minister of Education? This entire business—Zaun—is as rotten as Silco, and the stink will seep into every square inch of her home unless she can stop him.

Conversationally, Vi says, "You still haven't explained why you're following me?"

"We're s'posed—to keep an eye on you."

"Why?"

"I d-don't know. My orders were to—"

Vi slams the blackguard's chin to the cobblestones, his teeth colliding with a brittle crack. The man yowls and struggles, but with his arms pinned, he's like a fish flopping furiously towards the water's surface.

"You got three minutes left," Vi says. "Make 'em count."

"Okay, okay." A rivulet of blood pools the corner of the blackguard's mouth. "We're here on Sevika's orders. To keep you busy. Keep you away from Jinx."

"Jinx." The name sours in Vi's mouth. "You mean Powder."

"Whichever. Look, I'm just—"

"Shut up." She digs her knee pointedly into his kidney. "Listen."

He obliges.

"You're gonna tell me where Silco's keeping my sister. You're gonna tell me fast."

The blackguard works his jaw. Either testing the damage, or anticipating worse.

Finally, he nods.

"She's at Bridgewaltz. The Lodging Project. Top floor."

"What? The Last Drop didn't cut it anymore?"

The blackguard gives Vi a blank, blindish look. "Well—yeah. It blew up."

Vi absorbs this in shocked silence. An unpronounceable feeling bubbles in her chest. No. Please no. Bad enough Silco had stolen their home like he'd stolen her sister. Yet Vi had still counted on the Drop being there, as if it was part of some potential future that she didn't halfway believe in anymore, but clearly hadn't rejected either.

Now that's gone.

Like Vander. Like Benzo. Like Ekko.

Fuck.

Must Silco destroy everything he touches? He's like a wasting illness. Just when you believe you're in the clear, the next bout hits you, worse than before, a paroxysmal sucker-punch right to the guts.

Worse, it spreads to everyone in your life.

Vi stares down at the blackguard, weighing her options. She needs to knock him out. Then she needs to haul ass to Bridgewaltz. Reinforcements will arrive soon. Then it's only a matter of time before they realize Vi's up to no good. To assume otherwise would be stupid.

Powder. The name is a pulsebeat in the aching debris of Vi's heart. I need to get to her.

To the blackguard, Vi says, "Tell Silco I said Hey."

His eyes bulge. "Wait—don't—"

Matter-of-factly, Vi squeezes her elbow around his throat. The man's liquid gurgles fill the alleyway. Once she feels the barest thrum of pulse, Vi lets his unconscious body fall.

Dusting off her hands, she rises. Scattershot plans gather at the edges of her mind. Bridgewaltz. She needs to get there before the inevitable secondary attack. She needs to cover her tracks so the reinforcements can't trace her. She needs to reach Powder, and convince her to escape. She needs to—

A little voice, the same pitch as Vander's, pops into her mind:

Steady, girl.

One thing at a time.

Vi turns and starts walking. The further she gets, the faster the adrenaline leaks out of her body. Suddenly, she feels the heaviness of moisture in her jacket. A rivulet of sweat runs down her spine. She takes a moment to drag in a breath and wipe her face. Then she presses her fingertips to her temples, to clear them of the high-pitched buzz.

The same sensation she grew up with in the Undercity—breaking bones and winning brawls and yet so fucking scared of losing herself.

The sensation she never wants to feel again.

(Soon, we won't have to.)

(Neither of us will, Powder.)

(I promise.)

Nightfall.

The rainfall has slowed. There is barely a smattering of isolated water-drops, the neon striking off them. The street-lit world is no longer dominated by brilliant marketplaces, or the background clamor of hundreds of people eddying in and out.

The Entresol block is quietly lantern-shaded, with a maze of high-arched rowhouses and cobbled streets that are reminiscent of Piltover's upscale neighborhoods—except they are stained black with decades of soot. At the corner glow a modest collection of shops, their signboards flashing in the gloom. A chop-house serving sump-vole flanks with river herbs. A tavern exuding gin fumes and piano skirls. A respectable-looking dry-goods store, the kind of place where you can buy loose cigarettes with a carton of milk. In the periphery is a rusted playground, where children are playing keep-away beneath the sprawling branches of a neon-wire tree that throws a surreally blue glow over the space.

It's cleaner than Vi remembers. But why wouldn't it be? This is the milieu of Silco's headquarters. All of Zaun's big-wigs have probably congregated here. They like things to be nice for themselves. But in the lower reaches, there are likely still shabbier neighborhoods and poorer Fissurefolk, grubbing for scraps.

Silco can pretty up the façade to his heart's content.

Inside, it's as hollow as he is.

Vi keeps to the shadows. At intervals, she carries out countersurveillance moves. In semi-private spots, she checks in with Caitlyn for a visual via the Hex-drone—and for a morale booster. She can hear the stress-notes in Caitlyn's voice the deeper Vi travels into Zaun. But her steadiness never wavers. Talking to her always steadies Vi in turn.

It had scared Vi at first; tried to make her keep Caitlyn at an arm's length. It didn't last long. The first time she'd kissed Vi, something unfurled with the slide of Cait's lips against her own: soft, sweet, breathless. It was like the first time Vi had seen sunlight at the blue skies of the Boundary, its glow limning Piltover's cityscape.

A dizzying sensation of flight.

Sex would've made their dynamic easy to nail down. Or not nail down. Even as a teenager, Vi was used to wielding the physical stuff as a shorthand for no strings attached. But with Caitlyn, it was more than that. They both knew it. Sometimes, tangled together in the cool cotton of bedsheets, Vi joked that Caitlyn must've reincarnated from a past life as a turd-polisher. Caitlyn would shush her with good-natured impatience.

From the start, she'd say, kiss-shaped against Vi's shoulderblade, There was something about you.

Oh yeah?

Your eyes. A softening sigh. They didn't match the rest of you. There was this… hurt in them. It was like a puzzle that didn't fit.

You like puzzles, huh?

I like you.

Just a little?

Yes. A thumb tracing the ridge of Vi's knuckles. Or a lot.

The memory makes Vi smile.

She needs it. She's too keyed up. She needs something positive to focus on. As the hours wax, she wonders if this is a rescue mission—or a suicide run. She remembers the carnage at the Bridge. She remembers her sister's crazed laughter. She remembers Ekko's warning: All that's left is Jinx and she belongs to Silco.

What if Powder is upset to see her? What if she lashes out? What if Vi can't convince her to come back?

Vi grits her teeth. She realizes that something about being in the Undercity, its gloom and grit, is draining away the hopefulness she'd felt in Piltover. It's making her feel like her old self, the teenager who'd lost everything. She'd thought that girl was gone, and lived on only as a lesson, a warning to do better.

She'd been wrong. That girl is still there.

But if she is, then maybe Powder is too?

Vi can still reach her.

Silco's headquarters loom in a glittering twist above the cityscape. A skyscraper shaped like a helixing braid of burnished metal. The chrome surface is new; there is no tarnishing of soot. At its zenith, a glowing green triangle, like a shark's fin, slices through the clouds. The effect is both surreal and unnerving. The building might as well be its own insignia, like the tacky Eye of Zaun.

A message to the masses: If you cross me, I will cut you.

The headquarters are fringed by a neighborhood of low-slung architecture. Vi scans them, first with a sumpsnipe's eyes, then with a Peacekeeper's. One of the primary attractions of this spot for Silco’s security team must be the multiple points of egress: through the main roads, through the side-streets, through the alleys. The second is that the narrowness of the district obstructs any attempts at large-scale ambush. Third, there is a refreshing absence of the electrical wires otherwise tangled across the Undercity's rooftops, thus curbing any acrobatic hijinks.

Vi's heart sinks a little. She'd hoped Powder would be somewhere out in the open. Except Silco wouldn't let his prized prisoner loose. Not as Zaun's First Chancellor. He'd keep her close—and closely hidden.

But nobody is unreachable.

Vi squeezes through an arterial-thin alleyway—a ginnel, Vander used to call them—between two buildings. Her senses stay tuned to sounds. It is harder than it seems. The airwaves of the Undercity are different from Piltover. In the latter, residential districts are so hushed you can hear the leaves dropping from the trees. Here, there is an ambient tide of generators and music and motorcars, rolling in and out in waves.

Vi had grown up memorizing this soundtrack. Once, she'd barely paid it mind. Now, every little noise makes her jumpy.

Easy.

You can do this.

Vi takes a deep breath. Fixes on the building that is tallest and closest to the skyscraper. Then she catches hold of its piping, and climbs. It's a slow ascent. Blackguards are roaming the streets. She'd glimpsed their shadows as she'd woven in between the buildings. She'd heard their footsteps, so sickeningly similar to the marching boots of Enforcers from her childhood. Like an army of darkness, they flooded the area, so nothing felt safe.

Nothing was safe. Not in Silco's nation.

(I won’t lose you to him, Powder.)

By degrees, Vi hauls herself up and across the roof's edge. She crouches low, chest heaving. The humidity is suffocating. Her body is lathered in sweat. She hasn't realized how accustomed she's grown to the pleasant climes aboveground. Her past had toughened her to a different world; oppressive and violent and dark. A ration on food. No hot water. Threadbare sheets and summer blackouts. She'd never forgotten it. Certainly not in Stillwater—which was barely a cut above, and in some ways, a cut below.

Now she realizes staying in Piltover has unfitted her from her old life. Her real life?

She'd expected everything to click seamlessly back into place. Instead, it takes effort. Like a conversation with someone you no longer have much in common with.

Focus.

The discomfort doesn't matter. Her insecurity doesn't matter.

Nothing matters but Powder.

Vi slinks toward a good vantagepoint. A sniper's aerie, but that's Caitlyn's expertise. Vi isn't here to shoot anyone. She just needs the elevation, so she has a perfect line-of-sight to Silco's headquarters.

And the top floor.

The blackguard said it's where Powder was kept. But Vi isn't going to take his word for it. She needs to check. Her location is ideal: near-total darkness, with just a little secondhand radiance from the shops below. The air is perfectly still. She wipes her face with a shirtsleeve, then fetches a narrow tube from her jacket.

A monocular telescope.

Vi kneels, perfectly balanced, elbow braced on one thigh. She aligns her eye to the scope, and sights along the cityscape. It takes a moment to zoom in on the skyscraper's top floor. Its triangular peak is distinctive. The eye-popping green. Vi flicks the switch to magnify the lens. For a moment her vision is studded in pixelated dots. Then the images sharpen. The headquarters' top floor is an atrium, she realizes. More than that. A penthouse suite. She can see the intricate scrollwork of stone masonry. She can see tall casement windows covered in heavy swagged billows. She can see the elegant curling banister of a balcony.

Vi's pulse skips.

Was the blackguard telling the truth? Is Powder there? In the highest tower?

She flicks the magnification switch again. Her view enlarges. The balcony has a smooth-tiled patio set into it. Fancy. The kind of thing she'd see in a Councilor’s digs. There is an oblong-shaped pool, its underwater lights casting a dreamy undulation of blues. The water looks so pure. A glittering temptation in the nighttime boil.

Vi sees someone there.

A girl.

Vi's pulse doesn't skip. It stutters wildly. Her breath rasps through her nostrils.

In her ear, Caitlyn's voice crackles: "Vi—what's happening?"

Vi can't answer.

Powder is there.

Right there, miles away and yet up-close. She is perched on the diving board, legs dangling playfully. Her small body is clad in a black two-piece swimsuit. The lens is so sharp that Vi can see each detail. The underwater ambience throwing eerie ripples across the tattoos on Powder's arm and torso and thigh. Her skin glowing-white and gleaming-wet. The insanely long blue braids undone and dripping around her face.

Oh, Vi thinks.

A tsunami of love and grief and pride engulfs her. She forgets her surroundings. She forgets the last time she and Powder squared off on the Bridge. She forgets the brutality and bloodshed. She forgets Jinx, and Silco's tainted darkness oozing from her pores.

She just sees Powder.

Gods, she looks so grown up. Seventeen now, right? Same age Vi was when she'd gotten sent to Stillwater. Except Powder has none of Vi's scruffiness. In the fall of her loose hair, her graceful profile, Vi sees their Mom. She is the replica of her, but daintier. It's crazy. Her smart, funny, amazing little sister, who has grown up in six short months into such a—

In her ear, Caitlyn says, "Vi?"

She jerks back to the moment. "I'm here."

"What's happening?"

"I—I've got a visual. On the headquarters. Top floor." She swallows dryly. "Cait—she's there."

"She?"

"Powder. She's right there. Now I just need to—"

"Vi. Hold on." Caitlyn's voice is rigid with strain. "You have a clear view?"

"Right into Silco's bougie-ass balcony."

There is a beat. Then Caitlyn says, "I'm circling the drone across your location. Don't move."

Her stressed-out tone cuts through Vi's euphoric fog. "What's wrong?"

"Stay put." She hears Caitlyn's forcible calm. "I need to check for sentinels nearby."

"Caitlyn—"

"You shouldn't have an unobstructed view into Silco's balcony. Not unless your location is also a guardpost for his network."

Despite the heat, a chill crawls across Vi's scalp. "What're you saying?"

"I'm saying it's too easy. Practically an open invitation to snipe your sister."

"Maybe I got lucky?"

It's a joke, and a poor one. It's also a stalling tactic. Vi knows she should hightail it. Except her eye is still glued to the telescope. She can't help it.

Powder is there.

Right fucking there.

As Vi watches, she slithers off the diving board and into the water with barely a ripple. Cuts across the pool in smooth strokes, then climbs out, dripping wet. She shakes herself like a cat coming out from the downpour, her hair shimmying around her body. Vi recognizes the motion from their childhood, when she'd haul Powder out of the old metal wash-tub as a kid, then bundle her into a towel.

Someone is waiting with a towel.

Vi's equilibrium crashes like a freight train. Shock—then rage.

Silco.

The shuttered balcony doors have swung open. He stalks out. Fully-dressed, in a three-piece suit, a towel slung over his arm. He moves in the same prowl Vi remembers: loose-limbed and languid. Predatory. The nightmare shape she'd seen from the casement window at Benzo's, coalescing out of green fog to wreck her world. Take Vander away.

Take everything away.

Powder doesn't shy from him. She walks over to him. Not just a walk—a—a fucking sashay. Like a showgirl across a stage. Like the girls at Babette's beneath the blacklights. Vi remembers one girl saying that the trick was to pick a spot above the crowd's heads and focus there—so they wouldn't have to look at all that sick crawling greed oozing everywhere.

The same greed in Silco's eyes.

Vi's mind spins. She watches as Powder takes Silo's hand. She lifts it high over her head and turns a playful pirouette, like a ballerina in the music box from Caitlyn's dressing table. She radiates the innocence of a little girl. Except nothing about her and Silco together seems innocent. Not the way he drapes the towel around her shoulders and pulls it closed over her near nakedness. Not the way he takes her wrist and tugs her back indoors. Not the way she clings to his side, rubbing her cheek against his arm.

Nausea bubbles in Vi's gut.

Sevika had called Jinx Silco's daughter. Yet as far back as Stillwater, pounding Silco's goons into mincemeat, Vi remembers rumors. The kingpin and his loose cannon. The girl he'd taken off the streets. Someone he'd groomed into an asset in more ways than one. Someone who rested her bones in Silco's lap, and broke bones at his command.

They'd called her Jinx.

Big deal, Vi had thought. Just another of Silco's mad dogs.

She'd never fathomed who the girl would be.

Powder.

Fuck—there is no way. Powder wouldn't let that monster touch her. Not that way. It is obscene to imagine it, when he's already brutalized her into becoming Jinx.

Brutalized them all. Their family. Their home.

Suddenly, Vi wishes the telescope was a sniper's scope. Wishes she could put a bullet right between Silco's freakish eyes. Wishes she'd brought her Hex-gauntlets, so she could smash through his headquarters and pulverize him into a smear on the balcony.

It's the least of what he deserves.

"—Vi!"

She snaps back to reality. "Wha—?"

"Vi—something's wrong!"

"What is it? Is there someone nearby?"

"Blackguards."

"Where? Above me, or below?"

"No—they're here. Where I am. At the Boundary."

Adrenaline cranks up Vi's body like a furnace. "That's—that's impossible. That's Piltover's territory."

"They're with Enforcers. They're all heading my way. Shit. Vi—get out of there!"

"Caitlyn—"

"We've been made! Silco knows you're there!"

"I—"

"Run."

It sounds like Caitlyn says something else. But the words are strangled off into static. The connection cuts off.

Vi stays frozen. Staring into the scope, into her sister's sweet smiling face.

Then Silco shuts the balcony door.

The effect is like being clubbed with a two-by-four. Suddenly she is hyperventilating. Something splits down her center: terror for Caitlyn, terror for Powder. Worse is the sickening déjà vu. Her memory rewinds so she's back at the old cannery, eye-to-eye with Vander. She still remembers the way his body, strapped in the chair, went completely still, his face ashen where it wasn't streaked with blood.

"Oh Gods. You have to get out. Now."

Spots dance in front of Vi's eyes. She'd done it again. She'd been reckless, an idiot; she should have planned all the way through. Now Caitlyn is in danger, and Vi needs to get to her, get moving, before—

Something glitters on Vi's wrist. Something alive. A firelight? No, it is too big for that. A dragonfly, or something resembling a dragonfly. How long has been clinging to her? Vi squints in the half-dark. Then she gasps. The creature's shimmering thorax with its shroud of translucent wings is all copperplate and gears. A machine. Something Powder would design.

No—not Powder.

Jinx.

Vi jerks her wrist. The creature skitters off. She braces herself for an explosion. Instead, the contraption's wings flicker. In an eyeblink, it vanishes. Maybe it's jumped off the roof. Or flown off into the muggy atmosphere. Whatever: it's gone.

Vi needs to get gone too.

She stashes the telescope away. Keeping low, she creeps along the ledge, and over it. The climb up the building hadn't felt long. She was so juiced on adrenaline. Now, the adrenaline is replaced by a clammy dread. The Undercity throbs around her, no longer a familiar presence but a sinister one. In the variegated neon glow, the streets seem alien: the air itself seems to whisper about the interloper in their midst.

Vi's boots hit the concrete. The alleyway is empty. She hears no footsteps of prowling blackguards. It's thirty minutes from Entresol to the Boundary.

If she redlines on the last of her endurance, she can—

A rustle in the background.

Vi turns, and comes face-to-face with Sevika. Her muscled shape is folded into a form-fitting black suit, jacket wide open, pimping d-cups and a hardbelly in a tight maroon crop top. She radiates a tough sleekness, hair cut short and shiny, lips licked a nasty shade of red that matches the sharp twist of her smile.

Seeing her, Vi glowers her old defiance before falling perfectly still.

Fanned around Sevika in a semi-circle are six blackguards, their tac-suits contoured by the stark red neon of the streetside signs. Their guns are out and ready.

Aimed right at Vi.

"Officer," Sevika greets.

Then she punches Vi.

It is a brutal overhand fired straight from her hip. It connects with Vi's solar plexus, sending her sailing back several feet. She hits the alleyside wall and slumps in a heap. Pain rebounds through her ribcage. Sevika had used the mechanical arm. The kickback is like taking a shot from an elephant gun.

Sevika struts closer. Her steel-toed boot prods Vi's shoulder. Reflecting the red neon lights, her eyes seem to be the color of blood.

"Get your ass up," she says. "Silco wants a word."

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane fanfic #arcane netflix #arcane silco #arcane sevika #arcane jinx #arcane vi #arcane caitlyn #silco #sevika #jinx #caitlyn #vi #caitvi #vi x caitlyn #fanfic #forward (never forget)/xoxo #forward but never forget/xoxo

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myperfectdad · 2 years

Text

41. Proud dads

This story was originally published on My website. Read new My Perfect Dad stories at JayHypnoWriter.com a full week before they drop here, and follow Me @JayHypnoWriter on Twitter for more updates.

Norman parked his gray SUV in front of the rundown storefront and then lifted his sunglasses to get a better look at the surroundings. A feeling of unease rose in his gut. It occurred to him that this whole thing could have been a setup, but it was impossible to tell. The building’s windows were all papered over, and aside from an old camper that looked like it had been abandoned for months, the parking lot was empty.

“Are you sure this is right, Dave?” he asked, turning to the passenger riding with him. “This place looks deserted. Check the group text again.”

Dave removed the black tactical glove from his right hand and tapped at his phone screen a few times. “Yup,” he said a moment later and then scratched his graying goatee. “This is it. Says right here, ‘Pride parade protest: Arrive at 7:30 a.m. to receive materials and training.’”

Norman looked at the dashboard clock. They were right on time. “Just seems like there’d be more guys here. Everybody was talking about it.”

“You know how it is, man,” Dave said. “Everybody talks their faces off in the group chat, but no one has the balls to show up and actually do anything.”

Norman nodded in agreement. Over the last few years, he’d watched the city’s Pride celebration grow from a disorganized cluster of tables and a few honking cars into a weekend-long, city-wide event. This year, his company even made swag and gave everyone a half-day holiday to participate. The group chat he and Dave recently joined felt like the only place they could speak with like-minded guys who had their heads screwed on straight, and it was there that a guy called Frank had proposed to organize a protest.

“Maybe everyone else got it out of their system,” Norman said. “Bitching about it in a group chat is one thing, but protesting is another. Let’s just forget about it and go get breakfast or something.”

Norman reached for the gearshift, but Dave pushed his hand away.

“No, man, this is exactly what we need to be doing today.” He craned his neck to look at the roof of the building. “Did you check for cameras?”

“I didn’t see any on street view,” Norman said and pulled his black gaiter up over the lower half of his face. “But we can’t be too careful. Let’s go.”

Dave pulled his mask on, and the two men walked across the lot. When they reached the store front, they heard the deadbolt turn, and the door creaked open before Norman could raise his hand to knock. A man about Norman and Dave’s age greeted them with a slight smile.

“Help you gentlemen?” he said.

Norman’s eyes widened when he saw how thickly built the man was and how casually he behaved, as if he was completely oblivious of his own massive body. Norman felt inadequate standing next to the wall of muscle and masculinity, and he unconsciously corrected his posture and sucked his gut in.

“We’re here for the, uh, the training,” he said, his mask muffling his voice.

Their host’s face lit up, and he waved them in. “Welcome, guys! I’m Frank,” he said as he shook their hands. “I didn’t think anybody would show up. You know how it is—most of the guys in that chat are cowards and flakes.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Dave said, casting a glance at Norman. “I was afraid we were the only two guys in town who’ve had enough of this Pride stuff. Glad to see you feel the same way, brother.”

Frank made a grunt that sounded vaguely like approval and then led them to a row of folding chairs arranged in front of an old TV. “Have a seat, guys,” he said. “We’ll wait a couple minutes to see if anyone else shows up, and then I’ll get started. I’m going to grab the stuff from my car.”

Frank disappeared through a doorway at the back of the vacant shop, leaving Norman and Dave alone. After a minute of silence, Norman looked at his friend. “Grab the stuff from his car? There weren’t any other cars in the lot.”

“Could be parked around back,” Dave said. “Do you hear that buzzing sound?”

Norman shook his head, and the two men sat in silence again. After a few minutes passed, Norman started looking around the large, empty space. “I wish we could just get started already. I kind of want to get out of here.”

“I’m glad you said it, man,” Dave said. “I’m starting to have second thoughts about this. Maybe we should just go.”

They both stood and were heading for the door when Frank returned, carrying a large cardboard box. “Sorry, guys,” he said and then lowered the box to the floor with a grunt. “Damn thing came open and spilled all my stuff out in the alley.”

Norman turned around at the sound of Frank’s voice. Woof, he thought as his eyes landed on the man’s beefy chest and belly. Wait a minute. What?

“No worries,” Dave said, sounding equally confused. “But if you don’t mind, I think we might just head home. Somehow, protesting the Pride parade just doesn’t seem as…”

“Important,” Norman interjected. “Somehow it feels like there are better things we could be doing with our time today.”

Frank crossed his arms across his chest and smirked, making Norman and Dave feel a rush of emotions they didn’t quite understand. “I get it,” he said. “But can I at least give you the full presentation? I think you’ll enjoy it.”

Two hours later, Norman and Dave stood side by side, smiling ear-to-ear. Gone were the gaiters and the camouflage jackets, replaced with black leather harnesses and cuffs, Muir caps, and tight white T-shirts that read PROUD TO BE A GAY DAD in block letters. Frank looked at them approvingly and then handed each man a matching sign.

“You’re going to be Papa Frank’s good bear boys. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Sir, Papa Frank,” the men said in unison and then shivered with pleasure.

“You’re going to have a good time at the Pride parade, aren’t you, boys?”

“Yes, Sir, Papa Frank.”

“And you’re not going to give anybody any trouble.”

“No, Sir, Papa Frank.”

Frank clapped each man on the shoulder and pushed them toward the door. “Good boys,” he said. “Now go have fun.”

Want more works like this? Buy Me a cup of coffee as a way to help support this and other writing endeavors.

#gay #dad #gay dad #straight to gay #male tf

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imaginepirates · 4 years

Text

Pirate

For the anon who wanted a James x reader where they meet on the Pearl, but James doesn’t have the guts to admit that he’s falling for them. Later, (we’re pretending his death didn’t happen), they meet again at Shipwreck Cove, and James confesses his feelings during the battle on the Dutchman.

@emdrabbles @tesserphantom @paljonkaikenlaista @viper-official @hellspawn-brownies @groovyfluxie @wordsinwinters

~3760 words. Long again.

~~~~~~~

His hair hung in wet strings around his face. Whether they were matted together with water, alcohol, or vomit, you weren’t sure you wanted to know, though you suspected it to be a mixture of all three. A guard rail was all that kept him upright. He was a disaster, even for a pirate. Not that he’s a pirate, either.

The former Commodore looked a wreck. You would be, too, you supposed, if you’d drunk yourself into complete oblivion. And someone needs to take away that damned wig. Currently, it sat on his head much like some bird’s nest, and you half-expected a gull to land in it at any moment. Pity mingled with your disgust. There had been a time when his name alone had struck fear into you. Now, he was a pathetic image, unable to do so much as hold himself up on two feet. He couldn’t strike fear into a fly.

You were a bit surprised that Elizabeth, of all people, showed him no sympathy. Even Jack looked a bit repulsed, which was saying something, given that Jack himself was never in a prime state. He staggered upright, puking over the side of a railing.

You sighed, walking brisky over, snatching the wig off the top of his head and tossing it overboard. He looked up at you through bleary eyes.

“What the bloody hell was that for?”

“You look awful.”

“Thank you for your astute assessment.” Even drunk, his tone dripped sarcasm, and you were a little surprised.

He’s still in his wits, then. You looked him over again. Somewhat. “You look marginally less awful without the wig.” He grunted. You grabbed the bottle he was holding, too, and threw it over the side.

“Now that’s just a waste.”

“You need to sober up.”

“And who exactly are you, that it’s your job to police me?”

“You’re embarrassing, is all, and it’s no good to be embarrassed by crewmates.”

He snorted. “You should write to the admiralty. That sort of thinking would have spared me many of my own crewmates throughout the years.” He stared down into the waves, where his water-clogged wig had begun to sink under the surface.

“Well, you don’t want to be that person, do you?”

“At this point, I don’t particularly care.” His wig finally lost the battle, disappearing into the murky depths.

“Have some pride.”

“Pride?” He pushed himself up, looking coldly into your eyes with his own. “I’ve lost my title, I’ve lost my station, I’ve lost my livelihood. I have no house, nor family, nor friends. I’ve lost everything I ever held dear, including the woman I love, because despite being with her,” here he gestured with his chin to where Elizabeth stood at the helm, “I’m further from her than ever before. Now please, tell me again why I should have pride.”

If you were being honest with yourself, it was hard to give him an answer. “You still have your life, and for however little that’s worth right now, things could be worse. You could be dead. Take pride in the fact that you didn’t let things get that far.” He scoffed, but you continued. “Go clean yourself up; splash some water on your face, and do something about the vomit in your hair. Things can get better. Clean up, and you’ll be one step closer.”

He looked at you then, a vulnerability in his eye that wasn’t there before. Hope. He stalked off then, stumbling a bit, but trying admirably to, supposedly, follow your advice.

Norrington carried out his tasks admirably and without complaint, no manner how demeaning for a man of his previous station. He was watched with suspicious eye; but why wouldn’t he be? He had been a ranking officer, after all, and an effective one at that. Too many pirates had been lost to his scouring of the Caribbean. Just how far can you trust a member of the navy, former or otherwise?

The way he looked at Jack’s compass didn’t escape your notice. He knows. “Not thinking of stealing it, are you?” His neck craned to look up at you from his position kneeling on the deck, a wet cloth in hand. He stopped his scrubbing to glare.

“I’m not a thief.” He looked back down, returning to his task.

“You are a pirate.”

His head whipped up at that, jaw working in annoyance. “I’m not a bloody pirate,” he hissed.

“Then what the hell are you doing here? Top secret mission? I’m surprised you were chosen; I wouldn’t believe your fall from grace if I weren’t here to see it myself.”

Norrington was showing clear restraint, obviously wanting to hit you with something. You watched him breifly consider using the wash-rag as a projectile before deciding against it.

“Commodore Norrington. That was a name to fear, once.”

The ferocity in his eyes vanished, replaced by sadness, his gaze dropping from yours. “I haven’t been that man in months. I never will be again.”

“Good.” He shot you a questioning look. “It’s no use to be afraid of you. And, if what I hear from Elizabeth is true, you might learn to have some fun and not be so stiff all the time.” Offence flashes across his face, but you only smiled. “I blame high society. Welcome to freedom, James Norrington. I hope you get a taste for it.”

He turned to look out over the steadily changing horizon, a soft pink beginning to dust the sky. “So do I.”

The days wore on, and the crew steadily adjusted to James’ presence. He no longer ate alone, though he ate in silence, and the crew was more willing to interact with him. Elizabeth, you noted, had barely paid him any mind since his arrival. How she could be so callous towards him you didn’t know; you had expected her to at least talk to him, but she barely even looked his way.

Not that he didn’t look hers. His gaze would fall upon her, sometimes, while he worked, and there was a sadness there that tugged at your heart. He was confused, too, as to her treatment of him. He wanted, more than anything, to be close to her. Even if she could treat him like a friend. But she refused to give him even that much.

You were tired of watching it. “Come on,” you walked up to him, “let’s do something about that hair.”

“You haven’t grown tired of telling me what to do, have you?” he drawled. He was propped against a railing, eyes following Elizabeth as she walked across the deck above them. With Jack, you noted. So, it seemed, did James.

You sighed. “It can only get in the way, hanging down by your face like that.” You turned away, heading down belowdecks. He needs to get away from watching her.

James followed, pushing off the railing and heading after you. Good. You found a spot with a few barrels—full of apples, you assumed; you never had gotten rid of all of Barbossa’s cargo—that would be suitable for sitting on. You motioned for James to do just that, moving behind him.

You found yourself at a loss for words. What was there to say? You had little in common, and less that wouldn’t bring back poor memories for him. You kept silent, instead running your fingers through James’ hair. It’s longer than I expected, for a naval man. I wonder if he always kept it like this, or if it was close-cropped, once.

“What exactly are you doing?” He turned his head a little to look back at you.

“Braiding.” You separated his hair into three parts, beginning to twine the strands together.

You expected him to ask you why, or to move away, but he stayed put. “I haven’t worn my hair in a braid since the navy.” It was almost a whisper. Somehow, in the low light of the hull, it seemed appropriate.

You almost pulled away and apologized, but he went on. “I used to braid it to fit it under that damned wig. It could get so insufferably hot in the sun, though I was always glad to have the hair off the back of my neck. I don’t know how Elizabeth ever managed, in those dresses.” A soft smile sat on his face. “How did any of us manage, back then?”

You knew he wasn’t speaking of the heat. You tied his hair off with a small strip of ribbon from around your wrist. It was interesting, to see something of yours on him, and you stared at it a moment before moving. “You’ve always kept your hair this long, then?” You moved to a barrel across from him.

“For years. My mother hated it.” He smiled. “She told me it would be easier if I just cut it off.”

“Good thing you didn’t.” He looked at you curiously, and you felt yourself beginning to flush. “It suits you.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise. Even in the dim light of the lanterns, you could see his cheeks turn pink, the color extending down into his collar. You sat in awkward silence a moment, James fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves while you looked down at the black deck. “A name to fear, you said.”

James was still toying with the cuff on his left wrist when you looked back up. “I think I like you this way better.”

“I’m not sure I do.”

You got up, moving to a barrel next to his. “I’d rather not fear you.” You grabbed his hand, taking it gently away from its fiddling. He scanned your eyes. “Like most people, you aren’t as terrifying as the stories make you sound.”

“I never thought of it that way.”

“That you struck fear, even into the best of us?”

“I…” he trailed off. “It seems so ridiculous, that anyone feared me. I know I was good at my job—it was all I was good for.” He scoffed. “But I was so out of place in society…I always felt horribly awkward at all those social events. I was much more afraid of those people than they were of me.”

“You were like…” you wracked your brain for a parallel. “You were told stories about Blackbeard when you were a child, right?”

“Yes, of course. Upon reflection, I’m sure they were too dramatic to be true.”

“That’s how you were to us. You were a reverse Blackbeard.” James laughed aloud at that. “I can’t even tell you how I pictured you. Larger, maybe. Older. And with a horrible, mean beard that took up half your face.”

James smiled, and you found you quite liked the expression on him. “Am I as scary as the stories?”

“Not even close. Though I’m sure I wouldn’t want to meet the business end of your sword,” you added.

“Is Blackbeard as frightening as the tales?” James questioned. Then, more seriously, “Is Davy Jones?”

You sobered. “Aye, he is.” You found that his hand was still in yours—he hadn’t pulled away. “But it’s mixed with disgust. He isn’t human, anymore. It can be revulting. And sad,” you said, upon reflection. “I can’t imagine; losing your humanity like that.”

James said nothing, his eyes on your entertwined fingers. He ran his thumb over your knuckles. “Why do you talk to me?”

You shrugged. “There’s no reason not to.”

“That doesn’t seem to be the common belief.” He continued to rub gentle circles in the top of your hand. His fingers were calloused from years of hard work, but so were yours. He traced over your knuckles and each finger in turn. His brows furrowed. “It’s pity, isn’t it?”

You could see how disgusted he was with himself. “Some, yes,” you admitted. “But you’re not half-bad to be around. This was…nice. I haven’t had a quiet moment with someone in ages.”

He looked at you thoughtfully, using his free hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re not half-bad either, for a pirate.”

You smiled, and he looked like he might say something more, but he stayed quiet, a soft smile of his own gracing his features. When he left, you knew he was in a better mood than when he came. I wonder if I’ll occupy any of the space in his thoughts that Elizabeth does. It was a silly thought, and you didn’t quite know why it came to mind, but there was a ghostly touch where James had brushed your hair aside, and you realized that you liked the idea of his thinking about you. Wishing for the attention of a naval man. Who would’ve thought?

~~~~~~~

The news about Isla de Muerta came hard. You had been anxious the entire time, confined to the Pearl on the account that Davy Jones could make an appearance, and the ship would need to be crewed if he did.

You weren’t prepared for the eventuality that James wouldn’t come back. You had worried, of course, wringing your hands with it, but you hadn’t actually thought…

You kept your tears for him to yourself. Nobody else was bothered—not even Elizabeth. A man she’s known her entire life, dead, and she has no sorrow to show for it. How can she be so heartless? It was as if nothing had happened at all. The crew ignored it; they were used to that, you supposed. Half your number had been killed by cannibles, after all. But even Gibbs seemed unbothered by the prospect of James’ death.

Only later did you realize that James had taken the heart. You didn’t believe it, at first, but slowly came to reconcile yourself with the idea. Elizabeth thought him a traitor. But was he ever really on our side? You thought back to your conversations with him. I like you this way better. It had been true. I’m not sure I do. That was true, too, and now he’d shown it.

At first, none of it mattered to you. He was dead, anyway. Slowly, you began to realize that Jones didn’t have the heart. After all, he hadn’t quit pursuing the Pearl, even if you didn’t have the heart. When you learned that the heart was in possession of Cutler Beckett, damn his eyes, your heart leapt with joy. James is alive! No matter the mood of Jack, or Gibbs, or Elizabeth, or the crew, you could only think of James. He wasn’t killed, then. He used the heart as leverage to secure his old position.

You pondered the thought. If ever you met him again, would you be afraid? Or would you just be sad?

~~~~~~~

Shipwreck Cove was just as you’d remembered it. Dimly lit, ships stacked one on the other, whispered conspiracies in every corner. Every sailor’s legend had its place in these ships. There wasn’t a legend that hadn’t been speculated within the fortress, and not a pirate who hadn’t chased them without.

You had fond memories of the Cove, but less fond memories of the Court. The Brethren Court convened on only the deepest of issues, and you still remembered some of their gatherings from when you were a child. It was loud, and there was no order, and the Court couldn’t meet without at least one death per session.

It was that way now. Jack toyed with the swords stuck in the globe at the front of the room while the other pirate lords surrendered the miscellaneous junk they deemed their pieces of eight. The end result was a dish full of random trinkets. Not that you didn’t understand; the idea that pirates obtained mass amounts of wealth was a myth. Most of the time, you barely had a shilling to your name. Working with Jack was especially non-lucrative, but it was certainly more entertaining.

Jack’s hand strayed briefly to the piece of eight at his temple. “Might I point out that we are still short one pirate lord and I’m as content as a cucumber to wait until Sao Feng joins us.”

“Sao Feng is dead.”

You recognized that voice. You whipped around to see Elizabeth, clad in full Chinese armor, sword in hand. You smiled to yourself; she was always full of surprises.

The best surprise, however, was the man standing at her side. You mouthed James’ name, and his eyes locked on yours. He stepped forward, as if to greet you, but you were interrupted by further discussion of the Court. He’s alive, and he’s here, and I never thought I would see him again. You glanced over your shoulder. And he’s in full uniform.

The Court was chaos. Barbossa’s plan to free Calypso was not taken well by the others, and you couldn’t blame them. Your mind was preoccupied, focussing on the man somewhere behind you. You wondered if he had seen the relief in your eyes. Had he felt the same?

A hand settled on your shoulder. You turned to see James, worried eyes staring into your own. He pulled you back, leading you out of the room.

“James?” You felt your eyes beginning to water. “For the longest time, I thought you had died.” Your voice cracked, and you were unable to stop it.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but only reached out to you, pulling you into a firm embrace. “I’m so sorry.” His breath tickled your ear. “I’ve done horrible things.”

You held tightly to the back of his coat. “I’m just happy to see you again.”

He stepped back, pain blossoming across his features. “I know you can never forgive me, for what I’ve done. I can only hope you-”

The doors behind you opened, and the Court flooded out. The consensus is war, then.

~~~~~~~

The rain made it hard for you to keep a good grip on your sword. The Dutchman pitched and rolled under your feet, waves crashing rougly into the sides of the hull. Its mast, tangled with the Pearl’s, loomed above you, a towering dark figure in the haze of the monsoon.

These damned fish people. The Dutchman’s crew fought more viscously than even Barbossa’s undead pirates. Who knew starfish could be so angry? You feared that their weapons, often tarnished and jagged, would catch on your own and leave you defenseless. I should’ve stayed on the Pearl. But there are fish people there now, too.

At least you weren’t alone. Elizabeth and Will were with you, as was Jack, though he seemed to be having difficulties of his own. If you hadn’t been fighting for your life, you might have been more amused. You had lost sight of most of your crew mates. You were too focused on the eel-headed freak in front of you to give your fellows much thought. With your swords locked, you had no other way to grapple with the beast. It hadn’t occurred to you that the eel could elongate its neck, which was exactly what it did, arching forward to bite at your face.

A moment later, the head lay at your feet, the slimy body collapsing beside it. James was there, sword in hand, looking at you with concern. That, or he’s squinting to keep the rain out of his eyes. You gave him a nod, stepping in closer.

“There are too many of them. We’ll never get to them all. Some of them are coming right out of the walls!” You both looked around yourselves at the endless numbers in the Dutchman’s crew.

“We only have to kill one.” James gestured towards the other end of the ship, where Davy Jones stood, lobster claw digging into the wood of the deck.

“We don’t have the heart.”

“But we both know who does.” James’ face was grim. “I should’ve stabbed it while I had the chance.”

You grabbed his arm. “No. You would be just like Jones, then, bound to this ship for eternity. You’d have no humanity left.”

“I’d be better than I am now.”

The comment broke your heart, but there were too many enemies around for you to focus on it. You slashed at a shark-headed monstrosity before James pulled you in close, stabbing something just behind you. Now isn’t the time for blushing. But James was holding you tightly to his chest, and you heard him shoot another member of Jones’ crew.

You hated to let go, but you had to duck under James’ arm to go after another, and another. Your back ended up pressed against James’, and you could feel each others’ heavy breathing.

“I don’t think we’re going to make it out of this alive.” You had to shout to be heard over the thunderous racket. Between the rain, the gunfire, and the sharp clanging of swords, there was little room for words.

“It doesn’t seem likely.”

“You were trying to tell me something earlier.” Rain ran down your face in streams. “Now might be your only chance.”

James put a hand on your shoulder, turning you around to face him. “I wanted to apologize, for it all. I hope you’ll accept it.”

“Of course.” You grabbed the pistol from his side, leveling it at a creature behind his shoulder.

“You didn’t deserve what I did.”

You cupped his face with a hand. “I understand why you did it.”

“You were the only one who treated me like a person, then, on the Pearl.” He had grabbed your arm, keeping you close. It occurred to you that you were both going to die like this, paying too much attention to each other and not enough to your surroundings. “I can’t…” James took a steadying breath. “I can’t help but love you for it.”

You barely had time to process the words before his lips were on yours. Despite the storm, and the gunfire, and the clanging of swords—despite the knowledge that neither of you were going to make it out alive—the kiss was achingly tender, with so much softness and vulnerability that tears began to slip down your already soaked cheeks.

This won’t be such a bad way to go.

There was a sudden shuddering of the ship, and you and James had to cling to each other to keep upright. You looked up, only to find that the Pearl had broken away, her masts now untangled from the Dutchman’s.

You tugged at James’ arm. “We have to go. I think the ship’s going under.”

He nodded, and you found a loose line to swing over to the Pearl. The Dutchman sank not long after you hit the deck. The ship fell beneath the waves, sucked under by the storm.

“We still have to face Beckett.” James looked out over the water to where the British armada was advancing.

You could already feel some of the fight leaving you. How could you withstand an armada, when you’d barely defeated the Dutchman? “At least we have each other, now.”

James looked down at you. “Yes.” He cautiously wrapped an arm around your waist. “And after? If there is an after.”

You smiled teasingly. “I hope you don’t mind returning to piracy.”

James smiled back. “I don’t think I’ll mind at all.”

#potc #pirates of the caribbean #pirate #pirates #james norrington #norrington #James Norrington x reader #x reader #self insert #potc fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #potc imagine #writing #writings

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bts-hyperfixation · 4 years

Text

The Princess and The Duke – Part 1

Duke!Namjoon x Princess!reader

I know I said this wasn’t going to be out until Friday, but after the Scammys, I thought I’d put it out today! This has not yet been edited.

Warnings - future smut, allusions to smut.

The first time you met you were six months old. Barely aware you existed, let alone there was a whole world existing around you. Namjoon was two at the time. A chubby little toddler clinging desperately to his mother as he tried to hide away from all the other strange people in the room. Most of the kingdom had turned out for your christening, so obviously the future Duke’s family had also made an appearance. They stood with the rest of the court at the front of the church, most of the adults attempting to corral children of their own instead of watching the Princess’ baptism.

It was only when a shrill cry echoed through the church hall that Namjoon looked up from his mother’s shoulder trying to locate the noise. Turned out you didn’t appreciate being dipped into freezing cold holy water. From then on, he’d watched intently, each movement made by the priest and your family, craning his neck to watch you wiggle in the queen’s arms. You were just so small, and so pink. He liked pink, and you were wrapped in piles of pink lace. He knew these were traditional colours for your kingdom, his mom liked to tell him stories about the pink flowers that grew throughout his homeland. Beautiful pink daisies. They were his favourite bedtime stories.

Stories of a brave king leading his army into battle. Each week he would send home a bouquet of the only flower that grew on the battlefield. Each week the queen would know he was okay, until one week they didn’t arrive. For the next few days, the queen was inconsolable, after that she was catatonic. She sat draped in black watching the last of the pink daisies wither. As the last petal fell from the shrivelled bud, a shout was heard throughout the kingdom. The king had returned, enemies slain, and with him he brought as many flowers as the cavalry could carry. The seeds were planted throughout the country, and those were the same flowers that remained to this day. The flowers that were lining the pews of the church, and the ballroom at the palace.

After the christening, members of the court were invited for a meal and to meet the infant princess, to meet you. The banquet was held in the ballroom, a long table adorned with wreaths and favours for each of the guests. You were placed in a cradle close to the king. A place where all could visit to pay their respects and your father could protect you. Once his family had finished their meal, they visited your crib, offering a gift and paying their respects to the royals. Namjoon tugged at his mother’s dress until she lifted him to get a better look. As he peered into the cot, he was shocked to find you staring straight up at him. Other babies he met always seemed to be asleep, but not you.

He wriggled in the duchess’ arms until he could reach you. The room fell silent as he extended his chubby hand to poke at your own curled fist. No one outside of your family, the priest, and the doctors had dared to touch you yet. They waited with bated breath for a response from the king. Little Namjoon paid no attention to the eyes on him, too focused on you. Your small fingers wrapped their way around his. The king had cooed at the event, closely followed by everyone else in the room.

…

The next time you met Namjoon properly you were four, he was almost six. You’d been allowed outside to play with the other children of the court. The problem was, many of them were considerably older than you. None of the ‘big’ girls wanted to play silly little girl games. So you sat alone and watched them as they made daisy chains together. You tried to copy them from afar, but your pudgy little fingers wouldn’t cooperate, ripping through the stems instead of creating the holes needed to thread more flowers.

Namjoon had been following around the gardener when he saw you. Decapitated daisies lay by the dozen around your feet. He couldn’t bear to see the carnage continue, so he took pity on you. He picked a flower with a thick enough stem and passed it too you. To say you were thrilled was an understatement. You’d taken the flower excitedly and threaded another through before giving it back to him to make another hole. The two of you had then spent the next half hour together, him piercing stems and you threading them into long chains. He laughed as you concentrated. Your tongue stuck out of the side of your mouth as you focused on the task at hand.

When you decided the chain was long enough, he made one last hole so you could form a circle. With the ring complete you stepped on your tippy toes to place it over his head, nodding in approval as the string draped from his neck to his knees. He looked down, assessing his new accessory and beamed a smile back at you. The first time you ever saw his dimples. Immediately you were compelled to poke them. He didn’t stop you as you reached for his cheek, instead laughing so they deepened.

You weren’t like any princess he had seen in his books. Those princesses were graceful and dainty. You were more like a bull in a china shop. Honestly, he was relived. All the other boys were in high school, they had no time for him. And the girls all wanted him to play ‘prince charming’. It was fun playing with you. You’d run around the gardens with him, dig in the mud, and exchange the stories your parents read at bedtimes.

…

Age six brought the loss of your first tooth. The tooth had been placed in a tissue under your pillow and the next morning it had become money! You had been so excited to tell Namjoon all about it, only for him to burst your bubble.

“The tooth fairy isn’t real Y/N” he’d stated matter-of-factly, his nose turned up at the notion.

“Is too!” you’d cried back petulantly. You’d seen her with your own two eyes. Well you’d been half asleep, and it was dark… but you were certain it had been her.

“Is not!” the eight-year-old boy retorted. “I’ll prove it! Next time you lose a tooth don’t tell nobody. She won’t come I promise.” He’d sounded so smug. You wanted to hit him. instead you set out to prove him wrong. You kept wiggling your teeth hoping one would come loose. It’s around a month later you get your chance. The tooth came out in the apple you were eating for dessert. Carefully you hid the bone from your nanny so she couldn’t tell your parents. After you were tucked in that night, you slid the bone under your pillow and waited for the fairy to visit you. But she never came.

The next day when you saw Namjoon, you were devastated, but still not ready to concede the fairy’s existence.

“Maybe I upset her?” you sniffle at him “You’re not supposed to wait for her, I broke the rules! That’s why she didn’t come! What if she never visits me again?” tears fell freely down your face. Namjoon had never felt so guilty, not even when he lied about breaking his mom’s favourite vase. He had watched you cry for a moment, unsure of where to go from here. He had made the heir to the throne cry… could he get locked away for this?

“It’s my fault Y/N! I was just jealous” he quickly tried to formulate a believable story in his head as you wiped away your tears.

“Jealous?” your voice was small, a little hope filtering through the sadness.

“Yeah… jealous. See I… uh… I’ve nearly got all my big teeth now, so she doesn’t come to see me as often. I bet if you put the tooth under your pillow tonight and go to sleep, she will come!” your face had lit up at the news. Immediately after he’d said goodbye to you, he went and told the gardener about your tooth. When you woke up the next day, a shiny coin was in the tooth’s place. You’d held the discovery over Namjoon for the few months, but he didn’t care. He was just happy you were happy and that he didn’t get into trouble.

…

At age eight you were definitely not shaping up to be the perfect princess. In fact you were quite the rambunctious little tot. Your mother became more and more exasperated every time you turned up with a new grass stain on one of your best gowns. She begged you to spend more time having tea parties with the girls instead. It was never your fault though. The tea parties were dull and Namjoon would challenge you to a race through the maze, or to see who could climb highest in the trees. You couldn’t just let him win.

If you weren’t running around or rolling down hills, you were lying together staring up at the clouds from the middle of the topless bandstand in the middle of the maze. The beautiful white stone structure had quickly become ‘your’ spot. None of the other palace kids showed any interest in exploring the maze, and the adults always seemed to get lost trying to find you. Hours were wasted with the two of you just staring up at the sky, sometimes talking about your day, sometimes in complete silence. It was just nice to be with him.

On calmer days he would read aloud from a book while you made daisy chains. You could do it by yourself now. Much more in control of your own limbs than you used to be. The summer before Namjoon was due to go to high school you made a chain so long you could coil it around the entire base of the bandstand.

…

After he started high school, you saw a lot less of Namjoon. He wasn’t able to come around as often between his homework and extracurriculars. Instead you begged your father to let you attend his football games. Each Saturday you went in disguise with your nanny to watch Namjoon play, regardless of the weather. You weren’t even sure you enjoyed the sport, but it was worth it for the smile he flashed every time he found you amongst the onlookers.

Each week you wore a different disguise wanting to make it difficult for him, but each time he found you without fail.

You melted every time, knowing that smile was just for you. Originally you told yourself it was just a swell of pride, watching your best friend play. Eventually you had to admit to yourself that maybe it was more than that, but you swallowed the crush. After all he was in high school, he wouldn’t want a silly little girl like you anyway.

…

When you turned fourteen it was time to for you to be presented to the kingdom. A ball was thrown in your honour, the first of many you would attend in your lifetime. The thought of being alone at any big event made you feel queasy. The fact that this one was going to be focused entirely on you made you ill for an entire week before. Namjoon had spent the week trying to reassure you that everything was going to be fine. Luckily, your birthday had been during a break from school so he could spend the time with you. He grew more and more concerned as he watched your health deteriorating to a point where you could barely keep water down. Eventually he came to a decision and asked for an audience with the king himself.

He’d dressed in his best suit making sure not a single hair was out of place. He marched straight up to the double doors to your father’s study and took a deep breath, more than prepared to argue his point. Your father had welcomed Namjoon into his office with open arms. He’d always been fond of the boy, especially knowing the weak spot you held for him. Regardless of the warm reception and his original confidence in his idea, Namjoon felt the nerves begin to overtake him. He wiped his sweaty palms on the sides of his suit jacket, breath coming out shakily.

“Can I escort Y/N to her first ball.” The king had been taken aback by Joon’s sudden outburst, his face showing obvious surprise at the young man’s bold request. Namjoon mistook the expression for a dismissal and so, in a much less eloquent way than he had practiced in is shower, he fought his case.

“Y/N has been ill all week; she doesn’t think she can do this alone…. And I just thought… maybe she would be okay if I were with her. I know I’m only a duke, but I just want her to be okay and I really think this would be good and it’ll only be for this one ball and…” Namjoon’s rambling came to an end when your father raised his hand. Namjoon clenched his fists as he waited for an answer.

Your father had taken his time to consider Namjoon’s proposal, enjoying the way the boy had squirmed under his gaze. To this day, Namjoon refers to it as the second most terrifying day of his life. Eventually a smile had broken over the kings face, no longer able to contain his laugh. He clapped Namjoon on the shoulder and sent him off with his blessing.

On his way to meet you in the gardens afterwards, he had gathered the prettiest daisies he could find. He found you lying on the floor of the bandstand, looking a little too pale as you stared up at the clouds floating past. He cleared his throat on arrival, making you look at him with the offer of a weak smile, not really taking him in.

When he didn’t take his place beside you, you’d sat up to look at him properly. That’s when you saw the pinstripe suit and quaffed hair. It looked so unlike him you couldn’t help but giggle. Normally Joon was a t-shirt and basketball shorts kind of guy. He had rolled his eyes and extended his hand to help you up. You took it, every question in your mind had gotten stuck in your throat when his eyes had met yours. You never did get over that silly little crush. He didn’t release your hand like you expected him too. Instead he placed the bouquet into your free hand and asked you the question you’d been dreaming he would.

“Just to protect you of course… I don’t like when you aren’t well” He’d broken the moment by ruffling your hair, a sure sign he was doing this as a favour.

He took you to every ball you attended after that one.

…

The summer you turned seventeen was the summer before Namjoon left for university. You snuck out passed your guards in the night to see him. There was a very convenient secret passageway that led from your room to the gardens. You would meet him at the bandstand and talk until the sun came over the horizon. The lack of sleep had been worth it to spend those last fleeting days with him. You talked about anything and nothing, just like you would in the daytime, but this felt far more intimate.

The first time you convinced him to meet you after curfew his eyes flitted everywhere. Always nervous someone would find the two of you there and assume the worst. You on the other hand were just desperate to soak up as much of your friends company as you could before he left.

Over time he’d become more comfortable with the routine. In fact he had been certain that your sneaking around hadn’t even been that sneaky, your parents were just allowing you to rebel like this. Eventually he got used to walking you back to the entrance of the secret passageway, spending an extra few moments together.

His final night in town had been an emotional one. You’d sat side by side, your head on his shoulder staring up at the stars in complete silence for a long time. A tear fell down your cheek every time you thought about him leaving you. He’d wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close just as a shooting star arched across the sky. You immediately had a wish in mind. Eyes scrunched tight and fists clenched, you wished as hard as you could that he would stay, or at least that he’d come back fast. But unfortunately, he had to go, and morning came around far too fast.

You’d dragged your feet as he walked you back to the passageway. Shoulders bumping together, fingers brushing, glances stolen when you were sure the other wasn’t looking. The wall that concealed your entrance had come into view far too quickly. You’d sighed as you reluctantly pressed in the stones that would open the doorway, far from ready to say goodbye to the boy you’d grown up with. You hugged him goodbye, tears streaming freely down your face. You’d released him and turned to walk back into the castle, but as you’d taken that first step, he grabbed you sharply by the wrist and pulled you back to him.

His lips were so soft as they met yours. The surprise had knocked all the air out of your lungs forcing you to pull back sooner than you would’ve liked. He wiped the tears from your face and pulled you back to him, kissing you once more. And then he was gone.

…

The following autumn had dragged by. With no Namjoon, you had been forced to invest in the idle gossip of other members of the court, actually pay attention in your elocution lessons, and, perhaps worst of all, prepare for your first ball without your trusty escort. Every time you thought of Namjoon your lips tingled at the memory of your first kiss. You were devastated when his parents had told you he wouldn’t be able to make it home for the Christmas ball.

When the time came, you’d prepared for the ball like you had every other. A team came to pinch, primp, and style you to within an inch of yourself. This year they’d decided on a snow theme. Your pale blue ballgown had been the most beautiful one you’d worn at that point. It glittered like freshly fallen snow in the winter sun. The skirt poofed out around your waist and fell just above your feet so people could still see the matching shoes with little snowflakes. It was the best you thought you’d ever looked, and it broke your heart to know Namjoon wasn’t going to see you like that.

When the time came, you’d taken a breath and readied yourself for a night of refusing advances of handsy nobles, and questions you weren’t prepared to answer about the whereabouts of your usual date. You took a hold of the banister and began your entrance into the grand ballroom, desperately trying to keep your eyes forward and not trip at the same time. Whilst concentrating on not falling flat on your face, you had failed to notice one crucial detail about the room before you, until he took your hand and brought it to his lips. Namjoon had made it home after all.

You spent the entire event together. For every slow dance you were in the middle of the floor swaying together as he whispered sweet things in your ear. Time not on the dance floor had been spent laughing and catching up. The night came to an end with you escaping to your spot.

He’d picked a daisy and threaded it into your hair, trailing his fingers down the side of your face when he was finished. You’d boldly stepped even closer to him, lips inches away from his, daring him to repeat the night he left, and he’d gladly taken the opportunity. He’d pulled you impossibly closer, lifting you on to your tiptoes and kissed you like a man starved. You’d wrapped your arms around his waist. Desperately trying to make up for lost time. Eventually you came to rest, foreheads resting against one another, breathing hard.

“Y/N I love you.” It was the first time he admitted it out loud, but it certainly wouldn’t be the last. In fact he said it at least twenty more times that night.

“I love you too Joon.” You kissed him one more time before taking his hand and breaking into a sprint. You came to a stop at the passageway to your chambers. “Come in with me?” You’d asked, flashing him doe eyes he had never been able to resist.

“Are you sure?” He brushed a stray hair behind your ear and met your eyes, you’d never seen him look so serious.

“Well I can’t get out of this dress alone.” You’d tried to joke. When his expression didn’t change you gulped down any reservations and nodded. “I’m completely sure.” He’d swept you into his arms and carried you through your room laying you down on your bed. His coat and tie had been immediately discarded across the room. You’d sat up to get a better look as he undid the buttons on his white dress shirt, biting your lip at the thought of running your hands across his bare skin. He stopped undressing himself to look back at you.

“You’re so beautiful.” He embraced you, fingers finding the zipper at the back of your gown. You allowed the sleeves to fall down your arms, exposing your chest to him. Immediately his lips had gone to trail along your collarbones. He mumbled ‘I love you’ as he went. Each kiss punctuated by the words you’d longed to hear from him. You pushed his shirt down his shoulders, letting your hands linger on his biceps, rubbing little circles on the perfect skin.

“Joon?” he answers you with a hmm. “Is this real?” he pulled away from you to meet your eyes.

“I hope so.” He responded before kissing you deeply again. When you’d gotten the chance you’d stood up and allowed the dress to puddle around your feet. He reached out to pull you in again by your newly expose waist, positioning you underneath him. He’d kissed down your stomach until he reached the top of your underwear.

“Maybe we should stop here?” he’d said, pulling away from you, “I want our first time to be something amazing.” You’d nodded, a little reluctant, but you’d waited this long for him, you could wait a little longer. Instead you’d settled into your bed together, cuddled close in just your underwear, praying that you didn’t wake up from this dream.

…

Everything was perfect, you stayed together throughout both his and your university experience. The whole kingdom knew of their childhood sweethearts. The duke and the princess destined to be together. The night of your graduation, a large ball had been put together in your honour and while no one dared say it aloud, everyone was certain there were hidden intentions behind the congratulatory event. The feeling was in the air, the whole of the kingdom whispered rumours of how the young duke was going to propose. They wondered how it would be announced, if he was going to ask you in the middle of all the guest, or if he’d elect to be more private about it.

But then the day of the ball arrived and Namjoon wasn’t waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs like he usually would. You assumed he would be waiting somewhere to surprise you, but the whispers started as soon as you’d turned up to the ballroom unescorted. No one had seen him. The entire night people had congratulated you on graduating, but your heart wasn’t even your replies. Instead you’d spent the night searching every face in the room for a sign of your missing lover.

As the night wore on it became clear that he had no intentions of attending. You’d put every ounce of your princess training to good use that night as you tried not to cry, humiliated in front of everyone you had ever known.

Awaiting you in your bedroom at the end of the night was a bouquet of pink daisies and a simple note that said ‘I’m so sorry’

You wouldn’t see Namjoon again for two years…

Part 2

Masterlist

Losing Virginity drabble

Taglist: @uraveragefangirlsposts

#namjoon #rm #bts fic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #namjoon fluff #namjoon smut #namjoon angst #rm fluff #rm smut #rm angst #kim namjoon #knj smut #knj fluff #knj angst #bts #bangtan #100

205 notes · View notes

inthehytes · 3 years

Note

‘accidentally blurting out ''i love you'' during a random conversation’ would you write this for bratpack? love your prompts 💖

hi!!! I'm sorry this has taken so long for me to finish, but I really hope you like it!! This random college au has started to become my favorite thing ever. <3

“Synthia! What happened to you?” Gia gasped as the door to their dorm room opened revealing a soggy, muddy, and slightly bloody Synthia in the doorway. She bit her lip as she stared at her roommates, feeling a bit embarrassed about it all but knowing that there was no way she could get out of explaining the events of the afternoon.

“Jeff never showed up to our date and then it started to rain and I slipped in a puddle on the way back and scraped my hands and knees,” she sniffs, her pride smarting more than her injuries did. She was too cold to feel much of anything in them anyway. She felt humiliated at having been stood up by the guy that she’d been seeing for a few months, she thought that they were having a good time and that it would lead somewhere.

“That bastard!” Gia cursed flying off their bed to Synthia’s side. They helped her out of her shoes and soggy sweater before herding her closer to the radiator, Kendall already moving to grab a few spare towels and dry clothes. “What was his excuse this time?”

“I don’t know,” Synthia whispered, eyes downcast as she stared at the little hole that had been ripped into the skirt of her dress when she fell. It was her favorite dress and now it was ruined. “He never even called.”

“Oh honey,” Kendall sympathized, wrapping her arms around the smaller blonde’s waist, rubbing at her shivering back in an attempt to warm her up. “Are you okay?”

“Why do you let him treat you like that?” Gia frowns from her other side, ignoring the daggers Kendall glares at them when Synthia flinches from their harsh tone.

“He doesn’t even treat me that badly, he might have gotten stuck in class or something tonight. It’s storming pretty badly.” She fell into the routine of imagining excuses for why he stood her up, a habit she’d began after the first time it happened.

“Yeah it is storming badly Synthia, and that asshole made you walk home in it because he couldn’t even be decent enough to call you and cancel!” Gia struggled to keep their voice from raising, their temper rising with every excuse Synthia came up with.

“Why do you even care Gia? I know you think he’s an idiot but yelling at me about it isn’t going to change-”

“Because I love you Synthia! I’m in love with you and I can’t stand to see him treat you like garbage okay? Can’t you see how in love with you we are?” Gia cuts her off, their hands balling up in an attempt to not shake the stunned blonde. Kendall looks just as surprised as Synthia does, though less at the actual confession and more at the way they finally confessed.

“You, you love me?” Synthia’s finally making eye contact with Gia, her big brown eyes wide and stunned as she cranes her neck to look at them both. “Both of you love me?”

“We were waiting for a better time to tell you, but yes, Synthia, we have been for a while now.” Kendall hugs her tighter to her side, fighting a fond smile at the way Synthia’s jaw is practically on the floor.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Stunned is the only word she has to describe how she felt. She’d been seeing Jeff in a loose attempt to ignore her growing feelings for Gia and Kendall, not willing to ruin their friendship for something as silly as how she felt.

“Because you wanted to date that jerk and we don’t want to keep you from being happy.” Gia frowns down at her, reaching out to brush back a soggy curl from Synthia’s face.

“You love me.” She repeats again in a little whisper, her teeth catching her bottom lip to stop the wide grin that threatens to claim her face.

“Is that all you can focus on? Yes, I love you dork.” Gia huffs a laugh, their arms wrapping around Synthia’s waist above Kendall’s arms.

“And you love each other? And me? Do we all love each other?” Synthia questions, her head tilting up to stare at them both from the angle she’s at.

“Yeah baby, we all love each other.” Kendall nods, her lips pressing a kiss to Synthia’s temple. The squeal Synthia lets out is almost ear piercing, a drastic change to her mood when she first stumbled through the door. She makes the mistake of clasping her hands together in glee before yelping when her scraped palms smart.

“Come on angel, let’s finish getting you cleaned up and warm and then we can continue this yeah?” Synthia’s swept off her feet and over Gia’s shoulder before she can argue.

“Gia? Kendall?”

“Yeah baby?”

“I love you both too.”

#bratpack #brat pack #synthia kiss #gia metric #kendall gender #my writings

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kayzume · 4 years

Text

Pairing: Bokuto x Reader

Genre: a tiny, tiny bit of angst, but mostly fluff:>

wc: 4.1k, who knew i can pull of something this long😃

Note: This fic is my gift to @jayeray for our server secret santa, Happy Holidays to you I hope you had a great Christmas and I hope we get to talk more (timezone is sht, I must be asleep when yer online🥲)I hope this piece makes you smile:>. Also sorry for shamelessly asking three people to beta this bec im not sure about how it turned out, also bec my grammar is sht(T ^ T)—also lemme thank the internet by helping me with them vows, only edited some parts of it to fit the story better..

Beta: @thirstyforthem2dmen , @india-katsuki , @prismaintales kithes to all of u

Back to Masterlist

Life is filled with fluttering moments, these events mark something within us that would either make us...or break us. You guessed that most of your story has made you what you are today. You were walking in the park hand in hand with Koutaro and your daughter, playing with his hair while she sat on his shoulders.

“Momma can I ask something?” your daughter spoke breaking silence.

“What is it baby?” you responded

“How’d you meet dad?” she asked cocking her head to the side, much like her father when he’s curious. You smiled at her,

“Well…”

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‘The Meeting’

“Hey, Hey” you ignored whatever that was and whoever was making those annoying calls. Your face remained buried on the textbook required for your literature elective. Lost in your own thoughts and the flow of music through your earbuds, you missed the exasperated sigh that left the lips of the one and only Bokuto Kutaro, star player of the volleyball team.

“Hey miss!” tap tap the loud tapping burst your train of thoughts pulling one of your buds out, you glared at the man in front of you.

“What? You got nothing better to do buddy?!” you spat in utter annoyance.

“You’re in my seat” he replied grimly, lowkey telling you to scoot over. You, in return, refused to leave your spot; checking every nook and cranny to try and look for names or scribblings.

“Doesn’t have your name on it, you can’t stake a claim and this is school property” you argue pettily. He looked at you in disbelief.

“B-but Akaashi sits right here” he whispered, albeit to himself. You stifled a scoff, he looked so upset at the fact that he can’t sit beside this ‘Akaashi’ person. You cleared your throat and offered him the other side of your spot, which is free.

“Why don’t you sit here instead, you’d still be near your friend. I wouldn’t hinder any chatter that you decide to make” is what you told him. There’s no particular reason as to why you wouldn’t move instead, just that your pride isn’t letting you, besides his reactions are very much worth the trouble. The classroom doors creaked open, students pouring in and occupying the seats. A man with dark hair approached you, or rather the seat beside you. He eyed the person you were conversing with just now. He didn’t utter a word and took his seat beside you. A few minutes later the bells started ringing signaling the start of lectures, your professor walked in clutching big old dusty books of classic literature, your not so favorite. The only reason you were even taking this class is for the extra credits, that you most definitely do not need. You were bored and needed a new source of entertainment. For normal students this must seem ridiculous, because studying isn’t counted as a source of fun. Take note ‘normal’ you were far from normal. You’re friendless, you were having a hard time mingling with others your age. It's not that you were getting bullied, it's just you and your foreboding trust issues. You hated the feeling of betrayal and refused to remember what it was like, so as a coping mechanism you refused to make friends, or even open up to anyone.

Bokuto was upset that he didn’t get to sit beside Akaashi, he was a year ahead but the volleyball coaches as much as they hate to prevent him from playing official games, he was failing english literature and needed to keep up his grades in order to enter the court again. Easier said than done, his literature class held him back from moving further. His professor sponsored his letter so that he will only be held back by one subject and not the whole year, all he had to do now is pass the semester with flying colors, and so far he was having a hard time. That’s the reason he needed to sit near Akaashi so the later can help him with his studies, then this woman came out of nowhere and taking his seat is not helping the least bit and he hates it.

“L/N-san we would like to request your assistance” your professor spoke in a low voice. Assistance in what matter, it seems important that it looks almost impossible to refuse.

“I’d be glad to lend a hand, but with what, sensei you rarely ask for favors it feels new” you replied

“Please tutor Bokuto Kotarou, he’s an oncoming senior but has been held back by this subject. If he fails one more time he’d have to repeat the whole year, and this might also put a bad name for his sports scholarship” She explained, you looked at the profile of the student you need to tutor, it was him, the guy with condiments hair.

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“Condiments hair?” your daughter asked in confusion

“Mom was so mean right?? She called dad condiments, do I look like a bottle of ketchup baby?” Koutaro countered on your daughter with faux pity.

“Oh please, your hair is literally salt and pepper, and yeah you looked like a bottle of ketchup when you blush” you chuckled responding to them.

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‘The Courtship’

It’s been five months since you started teaching Kotarou, and the two of you were past the last name formalities. He was still the same as when you first met, loud and annoying. But you’d never tell him that, because as you’ve observed he has times where he just suddenly drops his attitude and becomes sort of gloomy head in the clouds type of persona. It was confusing and downright weird.

You were at the library looking for articles that can support your paper. It was 6pm, you were hungry and sleepy from studying the whole day, and you were starting to get bored. But since your paperwork is nowhere near done you just couldn't leave.

You heaved a deep sigh and rubbed your now strained eyes, feeling the drowsiness trying to pull you into passing out.

BAM.

You suddenly jolted in your seat, you looked at your side where the loud thump came from. Koutaro was pulling the seat beside you.

“What are you doing here? Don’t you have practice” you asked him, he rarely— almost never skips his volleyball practices.

He sat down properly and jingled a bag in your face.“I had a feeling you’d be hungry by now, I heard from Akaashi that you’re pulling all nighters for your class paper, besides we didn't have session today too, and yes, I have practice today” He replied so calmly it weirded you out a bit.

“Then what—” you started asking again when he rudely pressed his pointing finger at your lips. You were so tempted to bite him.

“I ditched, because of our session” he told you, “and also because I want to bring you some food” he continued.

“Kou, we don’t have sessions during Fridays. You specifically asked me to skip tutoring you on Fridays because you said you want to spend this day hanging out with your friends” you replied to his nonsense. You’re grateful that he thought of you and brought you food, but also you didn’t want to take away his personal time with his friends.

“Uhh y/n, you are my friend too so technically I’m still hanging out and spending my time wisely” he told you while opening a bag of pretzels for the two of you to share. You were thankful you picked the most isolated wing of the library to study or else you two would’ve been kicked out from munching loudly.

You blushed a shade of pink not because he said he sees you as a friend, your cherry blossom cheeks represent the embarrassment and lowkey disappointment that you felt knowing that a friend is all that you will be to him.

“I meant special. You’re a very special friend y/n, and that I hope you’ll allow me to offer you more than a special friendship…” he trailed off looking deeply in the depths of your pooling eyes. You can’t help but feel overwhelmed at the butterflies that started storming from within you. If you were a cherry blossom before, you’d definitely be a red rose now.

“Whatever do you mean by that?” you asked him sheepishly, lowering your head to shield him from seeing you in such an unsightly state. You fiddled with your hands whilst waiting for him to give you an answer.

“Y/n, C-can I court you?” He replied with a sweet smile.

‘The Answer’

It’s been a couple of months since Bokuto’s confession and up to this day you still feel giddy about it. Who would’ve thought that you’ll attract someone the complete opposite of you.

Whenever he visits your dorm or whenever you accompany each other somewhere he doesn’t fail to do something sweet to show his affection towards you. You were having mixed feelings whether to give him a chance or not. ‘Relationships are scary’ you thought, but the idea of him doing those sweet things for others gives a painful churn within you. He invited you to attend a game of his and cheer for him.

“Cheers for goodluck” is what he said the last time you met, which was the day before. You entered the gym, the bright lights blinding your sight. Lightly covering up you headed for the bleachers.

The place was already packed from students and other volleyball patrons. You see some free seats, only to be disappointed when they were actually reserved, you turn to leave for a new place when,

“Y/n!! where are you going? Your seat is right here!!” you craned your neck to where the voice came from only to see Koutaro waving at you. He walked to where you were.

“Sit here and cheer for me as loud as you can” he told cracking a beautiful smile. He wasn’t even doing anything special but you could feel the hotness creeping it’s way from your neck to your cheeks.

“O-okay, do your best out there” without even thinking your body moved on its own to give him a peck on his cheeks. His face contorted in surprise, you thought you did something wrong that it made you a little bit conscious, as you we’re pulling away he held your hand and you stared at his blushing face.

“Do it again” he almost sounds commanding if not for his hands slightly shaking in yours

“W-what...I’m sorry my body moved on it’s own” you started,

“Do it again...to double the luck” is what his reply was, you looked down feeling the loud thumping of your heart in your chest you quickly gave his other cheek a peck.

“G-go now, I think the game is about to start” you shoo him away as you try to calm yourself down. You can’t believe you kissed someone. And in public too. For other people it may not be a big thing but for you, that kiss felt special.

(Game goes, 4th Set)

They were at match point and as the game goes, Koutaro suddenly went on his ‘emo mode’, he was dumbfounded just standing there. You looked worried, there was no way they’re going to lose.

“Just one more point” you whispered to yourself, the ball was set and it looks like Koutaro will go for a shot, he still looked out of it. He needs to get out of his slump. An idea came to mind, it was so unlike you to do something like that but you closed your eyes and just goes for it.

“Take that shot and win!!” you screamed the loudest that you can. You saw him stiffen and slowly he ran and jumped, he spiked the ball so hard it bounced with a hard thud, you almost thought it left a mark on the floor. You heard the loud cheers and a loud buzz, signaling that the game comes to a close.

You sighed in relief to see that your little stunt helped him. You were about to go to and congratulate him when he meets you somewhere in the middle.

“Did I do great y/n-chan?” he asked, his eyes sparkling in anticipation almost as if waiting for a praise.

“You did absolutely great, I had fun watching you,I’m sorry I barely cheered loud, I’m not used to public gatherings like this” you shook your head in embarrassment

“Thank you for cheering me on, uhh y/n since we won, don’t you think it’s fitting that i get a gift from you” he told you. You were a bit puzzled, you didn’t get him anything.

“I- I didn’t get you anythi—” you started only to be cut off by him asking,

“Can I please date you now?”

You smiled at him, “Yea sure”

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“I don’t get it, what was the gift that you gave him, if you didn’t buy him one” she asked again tilting her head

“I gave him my answer” you only smiled on her more evident confusion

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‘The Veil and The Bow’

“Calm down Bokuto-san, everything is perfect” Akaashi told Bokuto as they waited for the large wooden doors to open. It has been 5 years since the two of you started going out and 6 months since he proposed. When you said ‘yes’ to his impromptu proposal he couldn’t believe his ears, at first he was worried and ready to pass it off as a joke but then…

“LET'S GO FOR A DRIVE!!” Koutaro screamed out of nowhere, you gave him a look. Raising an eyebrow in confusion you asked,

“Right now?” he must be joking you thought

“Why not?” he asked dumbly, cocking his head to the side

“Uhh..Kou, it’s 11pm.” you told him nonchalantly, you continued filing on your laptop when you felt him tug at your shirt.

“What?” you asked him without looking, he tugged again. This time as you take on his face, he bit his pouty lips and looked at you straight in the eyes as if begging.

“Really? Where are we even going?” you asked him again whilst standing up and slipping on your warmer.

He looked so excited he rushed to get his keys when he came back to you. He engulfed you in a big hug, snuggling his face in the crook of your neck.

He let out a small “Thank you”

Feeling his hot breath tickling your neck, you gently pushed him off.

“Are we just gonna stand and hug here?” you jabbed him jokingly as if to hide your reddening cheeks. He held your hand and guided you to his awaiting car. You’ve been driving for quite a while, just seeing where the night takes the two of you.

It took you the beach

You walked on the cold sand hand in hand. It was dark and chilly, you shuddered and Koutaro held you close to him, you heard him squeak,

“What was that? Did you say something?” you asked him just to make sure.

“We’re here” he announced, you looked at your surroundings only to see a gazebo all set up with candles, a picnic blanket and plush pillows. You looked at Koutaro stunned

“T-this is all planned?” you asked him stunned at the effort he pulled. No wonder he badly wants to go. You felt warm through the cold on how sweet he was

“You looked so stressed with work I thought that a date will cheer you up even a little” he told you as he fiddled with his hands, even though he was slightly looking down you can clearly see his reddish ears. You couldn’t contain yourself so you tiptoed and kissed him.

“Thank you Kou, having you around is already calming to me, but you did all this too, you’re so sweet, i love you you’re the best thing I could ever ask for” you told him while caressing his cheeks.

He moved his hands to engulf yours, he slowly pushed your hands of to his mouth, giving your palms a peck.

“No, thank you y/n for giving me a chance to be with someone like you,” he told you as he stared at you lovingly.

The night goes by and the two of you ate, laughed, and told each other stories. You two were lying quietly staring at the stars glittering in the night sky.

Sigh.

You looked at Koutaro after he heaved that deep sigh.

“Hey, something wrong” you nudged him a little.

“Nothing...it’s just that I want us to stay like this forever, happy and contented, say y/n, can I ask you something?” he replied, you were curious as to what he was going to ask it seems like a big deal to him.

“Hmm?” you hummed in response

“Y/n...will you stay with me for as long as you can..i mean forever..i mean as long as we can, Can we stay with each other” he asked you in almost a whisper

“Are you—” you were about to ask when he looked at you in all seriousness.

“Y/n L/n, will you marry me?” you can’t keep the surprise in your face, you blushed deeply, it was weird for him to be this serious, but you’re not gonna lie you like this side of him too, you stared at him for a hot minute and cracked your sweetest smile.

“I thought you’d never ask”

The big doors cracked open, the music flowing, Bokuto stared as you walk to where he was, at the altar, waiting.

As the wedding goes on, it was finally time to say your vows, you looked at Koutaro who is now holding a microphone on his left hand and his right gripping into yours,

“Since the day I met you, I knew you were a special woman. And even though I suck at Literature,it will forever be my favorite subject that I ever enrolled in. From that day forward that I met you in that god forsaken class, I became a true believer that you do not find true love, but true love finds you.

You, more than anyone else, know my insecurities and weaknesses and still never make me feel inadequate. You have always loved me without reservations. You praise me in a way I never thought was possible and because of you, I am the best man I can be.

I cannot promise I will always be the perfect husband, but I promise to love you through the good times and bad. To choose our love every single day. I promise to always fight with you and for you, never against you. I promise to always be your biggest fan, confidant and best friend. I promise to remember we are not perfect—only perfect for each other. I promise to love you without hesitation or boundaries from this day forward, for the rest of my life.

Thank you for being the woman of my dreams and the best partner I could ever ask for. Thank you for being the pillar that my wacky soul has always needed and I will forever be your wings. Everything in me recognizes your heart as my home and your arms, my shelter.

You are my better half and very best friend. I will love you, honor you, respect and cherish you in sickness and health, through sorrows and success, for all the days of my life. I am forever yours."

You bit your lip to calm yourself from sobbing into his heartfelt words. You felt his love from every single thing that he spewed out. You were thankful to where you are now, you were thankful to god that gave you a man like Bokuto Koutaro to love you. As you dab away the heavy tears on your face and as clear your throat you tell him your vows in return.

“I want so badly to be able to explain all the love I have for you. Not the love of butterflies and stomach knots—but more the blurring of self and the entanglement with another soul. Love is a word that is much too soft and used far too often to ever describe the fierce, infinite and blazing passion that I have in my heart for you. You are a million dreams and a million prayers of a little girl come true. You are kind. You are silly. You are intelligent—in your own way. Your laugh is contagious and you can put away an entire ice cream cake in one sitting like nobody else can. You acknowledge my strengths and accept my faults. You make me want to be a better person every day. I take you as you are now, tomorrow and for eternity to come, to be my husband.

Even when the day comes that we're old and gray, I promise to always see you with the same eyes and the same heart that I see you with at this exact moment. So today, I vow to honor you and respect you, support you and encourage you. I promise to dream with you, celebrate with you, and walk beside you through whatever life brings. I vow to laugh with you and comfort you during times of joy and times of sorrow. I promise to always pursue you, to fight for you, and love you unconditionally and wholeheartedly for the rest of my life. You are my best friend and I'm the luckiest person on Earth to call you mine."

As you finished your vows you couldn’t help the cracking of your voice, you felt hot tears flow from your eyes, you looked at him as he wipes all of them away.

“Shhh..don’t cry, everyone might get the wrong idea” Koutaro told you as he dabbed on your face. You only chuckled at him, he’s far too precious and you’re lucky to be able to witness it.

“You’re the one getting the wrong idea Kou, these are happy tears. Finally we’re binded forever and always.” you smiled at him as the priest continues on the ceremony

“Forever and always” he whispered back at you as the two of you we’re slipping on your wedding rings.

The priest announced “I pronounce you man and wife, may you live long and build a happy life together.”

He kissed you as the cheers filled the room.

‘The Life’

“Kou!! Go and chase Kaori!!” you instructed your husband to follow your daughter as she ran around away from you. She’s so much like her father, in personality and in looks. You had her 3years ago, and now you would’ve chased her yourself if not for your heavy bulging stomach. You were 7 months in your second pregnancy and everything was hard to do. Thank god for Koutaro, even though he was busy because of his job as a professional athlete he always make sure to make time for you, he always comes home early and makes sure throughout the day that you’re feeling fine. At times he will bring your daughter along to work to lessen the things that you have to think about for the day.

Today was special, he took a day off to take the threeof you to the park. You were tired from playing with the two of them the whole day. So you decided that the three of you should rest a bit, but your child has other plans of her own as soon as you situated yourself on a bench she hopped off and ran. That was why you asked your husband to chase her off to bring her back. The two of them was now in your line of sight, you didn’t want to scold your daughter but, she was extremely hyper and you didn’t want her to trip and fall then hurt herself.

“Bokuto Kaori, you do not just go and run away, against mom’s request, what if you hurt yourself?” you asked her as gentle as you can, even so she still whimpered at you scolding her. She looked at you with big teary eyes.

“I’m so sowwy momma, I only went to go pick these flowers for you” she answered you as she took out three wildflowers from her back, you cooed at how sweet she was. You waved at her to come close and she did, you engulfed her in a loving embrace kissing her temples lightly,

“Aww thank you baby,” you looked up to see Koutaro surprisingly quiet. He was staring at the two of you, he was filled with love and he was grateful for the family you two built together.

“Can I join that hug?” he asked, you opened your arms as he rushed into them almost crushing your daughter in between. The three of you laughed while coddled like that. You looked up at the sky, thankfully smiling.

Gen Taglist open: @kitayawa @aruhappy

116 notes · View notes

shepard-ram · 3 years

Text

Anonymous asked

To celebrate this month's pride and to be mild vengeance he's one of my favourite au's from the discord the yandere mcc au hope you enjoy the friend trio oc's.

You had no idea how your dear avian friend Alfie had won the sweepstake and gain those tickets to the mcc charity masquerade but hey standing here now with your friends in very fancy looking clothing and masks (thanks to Xanders want to show up all the rich attendants with the clothes he had made,you had never seen such determination in his eight eyes) having the time of your lives. You were only going to see these people once after all you could have some fun at their expense right, at least that was your thought as The Badboyhalo who was taller than even Erma (which was impressive considering she was an enderian) stammered out an excuse as he left blush covering the entirety of his face, you could hear your friends chuckle as they watched you lay the charm down thick sending each and everyone who was coming your way running back to their little rich people group stammering and blushing, ok only stammering in the case of Dream since he had a mask that covering entirety of his face like on all his public appearances.

Wilbur was having the time of his life at this party, he had thought it would be yet another boring charity event where he, his friends and family showed up looked nice for the cameras and donated a little to the cause of the day like every other even he's gone to these last few years but no some unknown human was providing no end of entertainment,how had he not met you sooner surely he must have met the charming socialite at some other event but he couldn't have after all he would have remembered a group consisting of a human, arachnid, avian and a enderian a group like that is not something you see every day was this the first event your group had gone to? You guys were certainly bold using the noxcrews masquerade as your debutante but a glance at Noxites amused grin showed that your boldness was paying off.

As Dream rejoined them his mind was drawn back to the game they had started against you, after Bad had returned face red and lovesick expression on his face they had decided to see if anyone would be immune to the humans charm or if anyone can make the human flustered but no one had succeeded and now even Dream had lost like everyone else, the stammer in his voice and constant glances back in their direction showing that he had fallen as well. The last chance they had against the human with the silver tongue was Techno surely the seven foot tall piglin hybrid wearing a literal boar skull as his mask would be their limit or he would remain as unflappable as always and resist the humans charm it took some convincing on his part but soon his brother was making his way towards them, unfortunately it had all been for naught as the human just cranes their neck to look techno in the eyes before long his brother came back face crimson and with a smile that threatened to split his face into. Rather than feel disappointed that they had lost he just felt even more amused when it was made rather apparent that the human would have more than a few admirers visiting them once they figured out who they were himself and his brother included, the masquerade was almost over all that was left was the raffle.

You had completed forgotten about the raffle so caught up in your little game, you didn't need to enter since entry was automatic for guests such as your group these prizes though were absolutely exorbitant even the "disappointing" prizes were worth more than your shared apartment and the price of rent for at least a decade. None of your group won any of the prizes which was ok Alfie probably used all of your groups luck just winning the tickets. You just waiting for the winner of the mcc team prize to be announced then you would all go home to your shared apartment and sleep in the nest that Alfie and Xander made for you all, you were brought out of your sleepy train of thought when you heard Noxites voice declaring that a the winner was the human next to the arachnid, avian and enderian...WHAT!? How had you gotten the only prize that couldn't be sold, oh prime you were going to see these people again, you didn't even need to look you could just feel their eyes drilling into you. This was very very bad, you made sure that your group left as soon as possible running as soon as you guys were out of sight of any potential masquerade goers. Once you guys were back in your shared tiny one bedroom apartment, you later it out flat that you guys were going to have to keep up the rich person act otherwise things could go south rather than the expected reaction of dread like you were feeling, Xander simply went over to his little crafts closet and declared that he vowed to bring the noxcrews costume designers to shame, Erma rushed off saying she was going to find the perfect codenames for you all since this would be a covert operation leaving only Alfie to wrap a wing around you and try and comfort you saying that at least you had left a good impression with them all right? It was official you were the only person in his apartment with even a little bit of common sense. Deciding to calm yourself down by reading your news feed didn't help as you saw news articles with quotes from the other mcc participants stating that the "golden geese" would come dead last and to not expect anything from the rag-tag group besides a bunch of unprepared socialites that would likely forfeit because it would be to hard for them. You could just feel the dread give way to pure rage at the idea of people laughing at your friends, oh you would make sure your all prepared, more than prepared you would be more than willing to knock them down a ladder or two as they say "pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall".

We haven't even gotten into the yandere yet this is just the prologue. Not going to lie got the names for the of friends from a random name generator they have existed for a while but I never gave them names but the names they have now fit them I think. Lastly as light said yes you were absolutely correct but you didn't have to out our little trio.

Ender-anon

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WOOO One of the most iconic sagas from the discord has arrived for all to see! I love the origins trio so much and I hope y'all enjoy this because trust me- Ender has alot more to share

#ask #ender anon #tw. yandere mention #c: bbh #c: dream #c: wilbur #c: techno

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soggy-platee · 3 years

Text

What Do We Do Now?- Chp. 1

Rating: E for now, explicit in later chapters

Pairing: Din x fem!Reader

Summary: A certain Mandalorian picks up your bounty.

Read on ao3 here!

You were really regretting your decision to not cut your hair this morning, as it was the sole reason you were currently face down in some dusty cantina with both of your wrists in a bruising grip behind your back.

In the spare moment you have in the time it takes for the Mandalorian to slap a pair of cuffs onto your wrists, you think back to the events earlier that day.

…

Tatooine was hot, and you hated it. You had been hiding on the dusty little planet for a little over 3 months. With a bounty looming over your head, you knew you needed to find a planet where the Guild no longer operated. Tatooine wasn’t the best option, still filled to the brim with Outer Rim scum, but it would work.

At least, you thought it would.

You stared at yourself in the small mirror, in the small refresher, within the even smaller flat you managed to rent out with your limited supply of credits. Tired eyes stared back at you, this whole “fugitive of the law” was getting to you. You took to the role pretty well, however. You knew you weren’t notable, and that’s the way you liked it. Average height, average build, average everything. You knew standing out would get you into trouble, so you did your best to avoid it at all costs. The only reprieve from this normality you allowed yourself was your hair. It was exceptionally long for a blazing planet like the one you currently resided on. When braided, how you normally wore it, in one long rope down your back, it easily reached the curve of your ass.

Today, like every day, you thought about cutting it off at the nape of your neck. You knew it would be better for you in the long run.

It would at least cool me off, you thought sourly.

Despite the logic in it, you could never bring yourself to do it. Maybe it had to do with your mother and the often horrific haircuts she managed to give you consistently as a child. You shivered at the thought of your mother finding out about the bounty on your head. She would kill you herself.

You didn’t mean to end up like this. Parents dead, no family left, and most importantly, no credits had left you in a tight spot as a young woman in the Outer Rim. You knew there were only two options for someone in your position, and you certainly were not pretty enough to make money off the most common option, so you became a thief. Petty at first, only stealing from those you deemed deserving. As you grew older, however, so did your crimes. Larger values, higher-profile targets, until you stole from the wrong person. Well, not stole per se. More like freed. Some high-profile dignitary from the Empire who still had influence. You had only planned to take the typical valuables, credits, and such. It was only by coincidence that you happened to free what you assumed was a typical house slave.

She had found you mid-job, begged you to get her out. She had looked so broken. So innocent. You cursed to yourself and hauled her out of the mansion with you.

Apparently, that “house slave” had really been “Mrs. Important Dignitary”, so essentially, you stole the guy’s wife. Great. If only you hadn’t been so soft. You knew it would get you in trouble. You knew-

You were shaken out of your thoughts by voices outside your window.

One soft, speaking so quickly they were almost tripping over their words. You creaked the door to the fresher and peaked your head out just enough to see though the small window in the side of your flat and into the alley beyond. You saw the quiet figure, but couldn’t exactly make out what they were saying. A young man you realized now was a local of the area, you had seen him around. But why did he look so scared? You craned your neck in an attempt to see who was frightening this man so, but you couldn’t do it without being directly in the mystery man’s eyeline. So you waited for a response as the other man trailed off. However, one never came. You simply saw a wild reflection of the light of the suns dance over the ally as you assumed the other person turned to walk away.

Armor, your stomach dropped as your mind supplied the explanation. Whether or not this person was here for you was still up for debate, but you knew they were dangerous. Only dangerous people still wore armor in the face of the blazing heat of Tatooine.

Once you were sure the armor-wearer had left, you snuck out of the fresher, grabbed your blaster, and vaulted quietly out the window to tail the other man. You fell into step behind him as he exited the ally and entered the busy street. You followed him through the crowd, staying enough paces behind him that he didn’t notice. You followed him for a good five minutes before he took an abrupt turn down another deserted alley. It was at this point he noticed you following him and tried to break into a sprint.

You were on him before he could even let the first beat land, pressing him up against a building lining the way with your arm at his sternum. He was taller than you, so you pointed your blaster up and dug it under his chin.

“Who the hell were you talking to?” you demanded, dropping your voice to the most intimidating octave you could muster.

The man in front of you sputtered, eyes wide with fear. You needed an answer.

You dug your blaster harder into the soft flesh under his jaw, presumably making it harder to breathe.

“Who?!” you practically growled at him, hoping it would do the trick

The man opened his mouth as if to answer you before the words died in his mouth. His eyes went even wider than before, if that was possible, and fixed on something above and behind your head. Your eyes remained on the man, but something behind him distracted you just as equally.

The same dancing lights you had just seen outside your flat made their way across the building behind the two of you. Your head whipped around to see a wall of armor standing at the mouth of the ally.

That bastard sent a Mandalorian? You were dead. That’s it, game over. Dead.

Even though your brain knew you were dead, your instincts still kicked in enough to release the man and shove him toward the entrance of the ally in one swift motion before taking off in the opposite direction. You fought the urge to turn back as you ran harder than you ever had in your life.

He knew I saw him question that man, he knew I would follow him to get answers.

At least you would get taken down by a clever bounty hunter.

More pressingly, you were coming to the end of the ally, closed off by a large gate. No way over it, you thought, too high. Sides? Pressed flush against the building, no getting through there. Bottom? Now there’s an option. The bottom was just high enough off the ground for you to shimmy through. Even though you only caught a glimpse of the Mandalorian, you knew he was too bulky to ever follow.

You might actually get away with this.

You dared yourself a glance back and the Mandalorian was nearly on you.

How is he so fast with all that shit on him?

You were only a few paces from the fence, it was now or never. You dove. Your upper body sparked in pain as you impacted the rough dirt. You slid smoothly until your ass hit the fence. Dammit. You desperately shimmied the rest of the way under the fence. You were almost there. You were going to make it.

Then you felt a grip on your boot, the only part of you not under the fence. You yelped loudly as you were ruthlessly pulled back, the majority of your calf returning to the other side. Your fingers clawed at the ground and your other leg kicked desperately at the gloved hand that held you.

Maker, he’s too strong

With another tug, you were almost up to your knees on the other side of the fence. While you were grunting and panting hard, the helmet behind you was absolutely silent, unnervingly so.

You knew you had to come up with something now. He still only managed to have you around your left ankle, so you brought your other foot up and pushed at the top of your left boot, hard. It slid free of your foot, and with one more push, your socked foot came out and pushed off the ground for leverage. He grabbed only a moment late as the last bits of you slipped under the fence. You kicked desperately at the ground and ran, only pausing when you were sure there was an absence of footsteps behind you.

You turned briefly and saw the Mandalorian standing there. A thrill ran through you.

What?

This man was trying to kill you, and yet the sight of him just standing there, glowering, still gripping your boot in his hand sent fire to the pit of your stomach. He was tall, taller than you first realized. Even in the alley far apart he seemed to crowd over you with his presence alone. You met where you assumed his eyes would be behind the t-shaped visor.

You could only imagine what he saw. Your eyes wide, mouth open, covered in dirt and wearing only one shoe.

This image of yourself roused you from your frankly insane thoughts, and you turned and ran.

…

After getting over what little pride you had garnered from managing to escape a Mandalorian, you realized how absolutely fucked you were.

Where were you supposed to go?

You couldn’t go back to your flat, that was out of the question. You couldn’t shack up with anyone you knew and liked in town, that would automatically put them in danger. You couldn’t shack up with anyone you knew and disliked because they would never let you in the front door, probably try to deliver you to the Mandalorian themselves.

So you end in the only place in which you knew you could get passage of the planet, the cantina. Thankfully it was busy tonight, so you could blend in well enough. You waited well late in the night, hiding close enough to see the entry and exit. No armor in sight. After your anxiety had built to a crescendo, you pushed yourself out of your hiding place and, on shaky legs, made your way to the front door. You entered with your hood pushed up over your head and your braid tucked into your cloak, trying to move as inconspicuously as possible. That was, until you heard your name shouted as loudly as possible.

You winced as your name echoed throughout the room and heads turned, yours slowly moving to face the voice that gave you away.

Ali. You love her to death, but she wasn’t the brightest one in the galaxy. She beamed at you from behind the bar, surrounded by patrons and their wandering eyes as usual. Ali was beautiful and she loved the attention, something you very much did not need right now.

You quickly made your way over to her at the bar, the serious look on your face made her cheerful expression drop at once.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” she questioned, still in a too-loud voice.

“I’m fine, just hiding” you gritted out from behind clenched teeth.

Ali seemed to get with the program then, lowering her voice and body to match your crunched position over the counter.

“Someone’s collecting on your bounty?” she whispered intently, with a trace of concern for you in her voice that softened your previous anger at her.

You had told her about your bounty about a month after being in town, you trusted her, she was good. That is why you very much did not want her caught up in this mess.

“Yes”, you replied, “A Mandalorian”

You saw the same realization hit her as had hit you.

“You’re dead” she said with wide eyes.

Great.

“I know, I’m trying to get off-planet. Are there any ships passing through tonight?”

“Not that I’ve heard, I’m sorry”

She really was.

You gave her a tight smile and turned to leave when you heard your name for a second time that day.

This time, it came from a gruff, older voice, and it came from a man pointing right at you from across the cantina.

The man was standing next to a solid wall of armor, with a familiar visor pointed straight at you.

Shit.

He made for you before you could make for the door, crossing the floor in seconds and grabbing your cloak. The same trick worked twice apparently, as you reached up and released the clasp around your throat and pushed yourself to a sprint toward the door.

You were going to make it, you were so close, you-

The next thing you knew, a blinding pain erupted from the back of your head and the world tilted around you until your shoulders smashed into the rough floor.

He grabbed your braid.

That was low.

One hand still wrapped tight around your hair, his other hand was used to flip you onto your stomach and wrench your wrists behind your back. Cuffs were slapped on and hummed to life as his knees caged your back. You bucked, trying to get him off you, or at least make him move, but he was solid.

The lost chance of cutting your hair this morning flashed in your mind, you grimaced with regret.

You kept thrashing, and in return, he wound your braid around his hand and yanked, earning a yelp from you as your head and chest were lifted from their place smashed into the ground and his helmet lowered so it was level with your face.

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold”

You stilled. It was the first time you heard his voice, and it sent a thrill through your spine. Maker, what was wrong with you.

The slight arousal was quickly tamped down and replaced with overwhelming fear as he wrenched you from your position on the ground and to your feet.

The entire cantina had gone quiet with your brawl, all eyes on you both. As he pulled you into a standing position, he cast a glance, or at least you thought he did, at the other patrons, who all quickly averted their eyes and continued their conversations in hushed whispers.

He began to pull you to the door and you made final, desperate eye contact with Ali who looked devastated. You gave her a small smile as a goodbye and the door to the cantina slammed shut behind the two of you.

...

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #fanfic #ao3

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roman-writing · 3 years

Text

bring home a haunting (8/12)

Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 39,139

Summary: Dani almost has her life together, when a familiar face arrives back in town after ten years. A childhood friends AU written with @youngbloodbuzz

read it below or read it on AO3 here

Sitting in the passenger seat of Judy’s car, Dani watched with unseeing eyes the familiar streets lined with trees and buildings she’d passed through a thousand times. Vaguely aware of the whorl of nerves coiling in her stomach, her thumb drifted to her mouth where she bit hard into the nail and skin.

“Nervous?” Judy asked from beside her.

“No,” Dani lied.

“What’s there to be nervous about?” Eddie said from the back seat, “She’s already qualified for State.”

“She’s never participated in an event this big before, idiot,” said Carson.

“Language,” Judy reprimanded with a stern stare to the rearview mirror, and then offered Dani a short, reassuring smile, “Don't be nervous, honey. Jamie’s going to do great.”

“I didn’t say I was,” Dani mumbled, but even as she said so, her heart rate picked up when they turned the corner and North Liberty High came into view. The school parking lot was already filling up by the time they pulled in, cars familiar and unfamiliar alike roving down lanes looking for space.

“Should’ve just walked,” Judy muttered under her breath as she expertly wove through vehicles and visitors crossing the lot.

Eventually Carson spotted a space and had to be physically pulled back by Eddie from running out the car to stand guard in the parking space for Judy. Finally parked and exiting Judy’s car, Dani exhaled softly in the spring air, her eyes zeroing on the modest stadium where she knew Jamie would already be and worried her lower lip with her teeth.

Eddie took one look at her and fondly rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry,” he said, grasping her wrist lightly, “I’m sure she already thinks she’s won anyways.”

“Probably, yeah.”

He smiled at her, a boyish grin that belied the growth he had gone through over the past year. He had shot up a foot, having grown out his lanky limbs into a broader frame that was more suited to his athletic occupations. Jamie had been quietly bitter over the development, having grown no higher herself, but it hadn’t stopped her from relentlessly mocking Eddie at one point for turning into a tree. By now used to Jamie’s teasing, Eddie hadn’t hesitated to turn Jamie’s mocking back on herself for inadvertently making a Tolkein reference. His smug smirk had faltered when Jamie merely gave him a dry blank stare and was gone altogether when she unceremoniously shoved him into a snowbank.

Shooting Eddie a faint smile now, Dani let him ease open her clenched fist to clasp their hands and lead them after Judy and Carson towards the stadium. It was nothing more than a large green turf and red track with bleachers and an announcers booth, but for a town as small as theirs, it was well suited to accommodate nearly the entire town.

The stands were already peppered with spectators in their seats. The pitch and the red track circling it already occupied by students warming up, and organizers, volunteers, and coaches milling about. As they climbed the steps, looking for enough space to seat the four of them, Dani couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder to cast her eyes around the field in search of a familiar head of dark curls, pressing her mouth together and squinting in the afternoon sun.

“Oh, over here!” Carson said, taking two steps at a time up the bleachers. Eddie tugged gently on her hand, guiding her attention away from the field and towards the seats Carson had found.

Once settled in between Carson and Eddie, Dani dug in her bag and pulled out her camera. Her pride and joy that she had gotten secondhand from a camera store in Cedar Rapids during one Christmas holiday after saving up months of her allowance. She stood from her seat and put the viewfinder up against her eye, adjusting until the entire field was in clear view. The camera gave a satisfying click when she pressed the shutter button and advanced the film.

Keeping the viewfinder against her eye in the pretense of taking another photo, Dani scanned the field, searching again for Jamie. But even from this distance, just a few rows away from the brick barricade separating the bleachers and the field, Dani couldn’t spot her anywhere.

Pulling the camera down, Dani said, “Um - I’ll be right back.“

“Where are you going?” Eddie asked with a curious frown.

“I’m going to look for Jamie.”

Carson’s eyes lit up and he shot up from his seat to follow as Dani began shuffling back down the bench. “I’m coming too!”

“Wish her good luck for us,” Judy said.

“I will.” Shooting Judy and Eddie a grin over her shoulder, Dani descended the stands with Carson following behind. “Do you see her anywhere?”

Carson bounced on his toes, craning his neck once they reached the barricade and shook his head. “You think if I climb this thing to get a better view, we’ll be in trouble?” Carson asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he tapped a hand against the ledge of the wall.

“I’m not letting you climb the barricade, Carson,” Dani said dryly.

“Not even for a cool picture?”

“No.”

“Just one?”

“No,” Dani laughed, and tugged him away by the sleeve of his t-shirt. “Come on, let’s check over here.”

“Does this place have vending machines?” Carson asked as they searched.

“Are you always thinking about food?” Dani asked, “I thought your mom brought snacks already.”

“She brought carrots and celery, that doesn’t count,” Carson grumbled.

Dani fondly shook her head, but didn’t deign to answer. The afternoon sun beated hot against Dani’s neck as they traversed through the stands, doing nothing to help the nerves under her skin. Scanning the turf, Dani only saw groups of students from multiple schools in their track uniforms of varying colors warming up and conversing together. Keeping an eye out for North Liberty’s distinct blue and white colors, Dani finally located a group further along the field past the stands, where the turf was separated by a tall chain link fence instead of brick.

Placing a hand over her eyes to block the sun, Dani squinted and was just able to make out Jamie’s head of curls as she warmed up with her teammates. Dani grinned at the sight of her, a warmth of pride settling over her.

“There she is,” Carson said, and cupped his hands around his mouth to yell, “Jamie!”

Jamie straightened upright and turned towards the sound with furrowed brows, brightening when she spotted them. She said something to who Dani recognized as Jamie’s coach before jogging her way over with a broad smile.

“Fancy seeing you lot here,” Jamie said when she reached them.

“Wanted to wish you good luck,” Carson said.

“Thanks,” Jamie said, “Appreciate that.”

Jamie smiled, but even as there was a tension to the lines of her mouth and her shoulders, she looked every bit a track athlete. She was already covered in a thin sheen of sweat from the hot weather and warm up. Her hair pulled back in a bun, a burst of freckles on her nose and the bluff of her cheeks from hours spent in the sun, and the uniform in their school colors had a race number bib attached to her shirt. Dani lingered on a strand of hair dangling over Jamie’s ear, itching to smooth it away.

“Dani’s nervous for you,” Carson said with a cheeky grin. Dani shot him a dirty look.

“Is she now?” Jamie said, a smirk slowly growing on her face, “Have no faith in me, Poppins?”

Dani sighed and rolled her eyes. “I know you’re not asking me that,” she said, “You’re going to do great.”

“Yeah, just try not to forget us little people when you make it big when you win gold at State,” Carson said, laughing and bouncing away when Jamie sneaked a hand through the fence to pinch his arm. “Now, seriously. Does this place have vending machines or not?”

Dani and Jamie shared a glance and they both shrugged. “Never seen one,” Dani said.

“Shit out of luck,” Jamie said with another smirk.

“God, this place sucks,” Carson groaned, and just as he said so, a voice over the speakers appeared to announce the event starting soon. “Guess we should head back.”

“You go ahead,” Dani said, taking a step closer towards the fence. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Carson saluted as he began backstepping away, and gave Jamie one last broad smile. “Good luck, Jamie! Bring home the bacon!”

Sending a salute back, Jamie chuckled as they watched him march away. “He does remember I don’t like bacon right?” She asked when he was out of ear shot.

“He has been obsessing over food lately,” Dani mused with a tilt of her head. When she turned to face Jamie, she was met with Jamie already looking at her with a fond grin. “So, how are you feeling?”

Jamie shrugged, folding her arms and leaning a shoulder against the fence as she turned to scan the field. “Good. Excited. Ready to go and sweep this lot off the board,” she said with a nod of her chin towards the turf.

“Sure, you’re just bouncing off the walls,” Dani said dryly, taking in the stony expression in the slant of Jamie’s profile and the taut lines of her jaw. Jamie huffed out a breath of laughter and gave Dani a faint wry grin. Dan’s smile softened. “How are you really?”

Exhaling slowly, Jamie shrugged again, pushing off against the fence to shift her weight from foot to foot. Fingers tapping restlessly against her arm. “I’m all right,” Jamie said, and met her eyes, “I promise.”

Looking at her for a quiet moment, Dani said, “I’m sorry Nan couldn’t make it.”

Jamie shook her head lightly. “Mikey’s been acting up, and so’s her knee. S’not a big deal, really,” she said, “Besides, the old cow promised to be there for the State Championships in Des Moines. I’d rather have her there, than here. And I know she’s put you up to taking a hundred photos for her, so there’s that.”

“I only brought two film rolls.”

Jamie tutted. “Slacker.”

Chuckling softly, Dani softened when the tension in Jamie’s shoulders remained. She couldn’t help but repeat, “You’re going to do great.”

“I know,” Jamie said, visibly refraining from rolling her eyes.

“Then prove it.”

Jamie paused and blinked at her. Her mouth slowly curved into a smile. “Prove it, huh?”

Dani nodded. “Win something today, and I’ll write your English essay for you. And I’ll buy lunch for a week.”

Eyes looking Dani up and down, scrutinizing her with an arched eyebrow, Jamie said, “Bullshit, you won’t.”

Gamely, Dani held up her pinky finger through the fence. Jamie’s eyes flickered down to it and she chuckled, shaking her head. “You drive a hard bargain,” she said, and linked their pinkies. With a pleased smile, Dani made to pull her hand away, but Jamie tangled their fingers against the warm metal fence, holding on tight with a smirk. “And if I lose -?”

“You won’t.”

Jamie snorted, but still held fast. “If I lose terribly, what do I get then?”

Feigning to think for a moment, Dani tilted her head and pursed her lips. “A tin of mint and deodorant.”

“Now you’re just being mean.”

Dani laughed, and finally said, “I’ll stop making you listen to disco.”

Jamie’s eyes lit up. “A girl after my own heart,” she said, “Maybe I should lose after all.”

“Don’t be dumb,” Dani said, jostling their hands, laughing when Jamie winked. An idea suddenly occurred to her. “Here, wait.”

Wiggling her hand free from Jamie’s tight grasp with breathless laughter, Dani pulled her blue scrunchie out of her hair, smoothing her hair from its ponytail. “Give me your hand,” she said, and waited until Jamie pushed her hand through the chain link fence to wrap the scrunchie around her wrist. “There. A favor, for good luck.”

Jamie didn’t respond for a long moment, staring quietly down at the scrunchie with an unreadable expression. “Thanks,” she murmured finally, her eyes flickering to Dani’s, her expression warm with a teasing quirk to her mouth, “I’ll make sure to bring it back to you in one piece.”

“You better,” Dani said, “That’s my favorite one.”

“Noted.”

“Now, come on, quick. I want to take before and after photos.”

Jamie groaned and fussed, but eventually acquiesced to Dani’s wishes. She stepped back just enough for Dani to poke the camera lens through the fence to get a wide shot of her. Only appearing just slightly bashful and annoyed with good-natured grumbling under the attention, Jamie smiled broadly, her hair russet under the sun as the shutter clicked. Just as Dani advanced the film, Jamie crossed her eyes as Dani sneaked another shot.

“Really?” Dani said, pulling down the camera to give Jamie a look.

Just as Jamie shrugged, giving her a look of pure innocence, there was another announcement on the stereo system. “That’s my cue,” Jamie said, already slowly backing up. “Try not to worry too much.”

Dani rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Good luck.”

“Got all the luck I need right here,” Jamie said, holding up her wrist to display Dani’s scrunchie, and winked before starting towards the turf in a jog. Dani watched her go with a fond smile.

When Dani finally returned to the O’Mara’s, Eddie wasn’t in his seat. “Where’s Eddie?” She asked Carson when she sat down.

“Over there,” Carson said, pointing a little ways away across the stands. Dani blinked in surprised to find Eddie sitting next to Roger, the pair chatting happily. Before Dani could even inquire, Judy was handing her a bottle of sunscreen.

“How is she, honey?” Judy asked.

“A little nervous, but I think she’s going to be okay,” she replied, absentmindedly applying sunscreen to her skin, her attention flickering over towards Eddie and Roger curiously.

“And she has two events today?”

“Just three,” Dani replied, “She has another three tomorrow.”

“Oh, good. Another day of stress,” Carson muttered.

Handing the sunscreen bottle to Carson, Dani watched as Eddie stood, gesturing towards their little group. Roger’s eyes flitted over and caught Dani’s. She sent him a small wave and smile that he returned before he bid Eddie goodbye.

“I’ve been to more games and sporting events than I can think, but it never gets any easier,” Judy said, chuckling, “Watching you kids put your heart and soul into your interests and have to watch you compete afterwards. Always puts me on the edge of my seat.”

“That’s why I got into drumming,” Carson said.

“You mean giving me a headache,” Judy replied, laughing when Carson rolled his eyes. She ran an affectionate hand over his hair. Of all the O’Mara boys, he was the only one to happily receive such affection without self-consciously shrinking away.

Eddie returned to his seat at that moment, grinning at her. “All good?”

Dani nodded, and asked, “Was that Roger?”

“Oh, yeah. Thought I’d go say hi.”

“What’s he doing here?”

Eddie shrugged. “Just likes track, I guess.”

With a faint frown, Dani spared another curious glance over to Roger to find him leaning his elbows on his knees, watching the field with an eager interest. Shrugging, Dani returned her attention to the field, scanning the area where she had found Jamie, and finding her again, clustered around her coach and team as the conference gradually began. She exhaled slowly, a feeling of anxious energy building under skin, a burbling that didn’t dissipate even through the first event Jamie wasn’t even participating in.

She’d been here before. Watching Jamie’s previous track meets, happily cheering her on. Sitting on the sidelines during Eddie’s baseball games or tennis matches. Supporting and heckling the twins in equal measure during their own individual sporting events. She’d been nervous and exhilliterated. But not like this. Not when Jamie seemed so determined for the first time to make something of this. For putting in the effort and concentration that she only spared for her gardening, and occasionally the people surrounding her. With all the pressure building within her chest and coiling her shoulders, all Dani could do was wait and watch as events flew by.

They were relegated to watching nearly an hour of long distance events, before finally the relays began. In the few years Dani’s spent watching Jamie’s races, she’s learned a thing or two — that their school fell under the 2A classification, meaning Jamie and her team would be racing second for all events. The first race went by without any fanfare from their group, but when Jamie and her teammates lined up on the track as the second group to race, Dani could hear her heartbeat in her ears.

“Oh, I can’t watch,” Judy groaned, burying her face in her palm.

“She’s gonna be fine,” Carson said, his eyes glued to the field.

“Is she though?” Eddie said warily, “She’s good, but this is her weakest event.”

“What would you know?” Carson said, “You’re a third baseman.”

Eddie sputtered. “What -? What does that even mean?”

“Means you suck at running.”

“Third base is hard! And - and I’m a power hitter!” Eddie said, “And I’m just saying — that girl Sara slows the team down.”

“And you’re slowing my brain cells.”

“Could you both shut up,” Dani groaned, struggling to not pull at her hair.

They both blessedly stopped bickering over her head with sheepish grins. Dani didn’t really notice. She was too busy watching Jamie warm up at her spot as the fourth runner in the relay in what Dani had learned was the anchor position. The most important of all four racers. From this distance, Dani couldn’t see Jamie’s face but from the way she couldn’t seem to keep still, Dani knew she was anxious to go.

When the first runners got in position at the starting blocks, they watched with bated breath as the starting pistol was triggered and they shot off. Dani could barely watch, knowing Eddie was right in some form or another. The team was good, but not enough to pull ahead all together. When the baton was finally in Jamie’s hands and she took off like a shot around the last bend, not even her speed could catch up with the runners ahead of her. Dani felt her stomach sink when Jamie crossed the finish line in fourth place and slowed to a stop, hands on her hips, and even from where they were sitting, she looked —

“Oh,” Eddie murmured, wincing, “I’ve seen that face before. She’s - uh.”

“Pissed?” Carson finished for him wryly.

“It’s all right,” Judy said, patting Carson’s arm, though she sounded just as anxious as before, “Just shaking off the nerves now. She’s got two more events.”

Dani exhaled slowly, eyes unmoving from Jamie, watching as she marched off the track with tightened fists. Her expression stony and her jaw visibly clenched. Dani’s thumb drifted between her teeth as Jamie fiddled with the scrunchie around her wrist and made her way over to her teammates and coach. A hand wrapped around Dani’s own wrist, pulling her thumb gently away from her mouth. She blinked at Eddie as his hand drifted down from her wrist to hold hers in a loose grasp.

“She’s fine,” he said with a reassuring grin. “She’s got the four hundred next. That’s her bread and butter, remember?”

She bit her lip and nodded, letting him hold her hand for a moment before pulling away to join Carson on stress eating the snacks Judy had brought for them. They were indeed of the healthy kind, but of the celery and peanut butter, and carrots and dip variety. As she ate, the reassurance of Jamie’s strongest race settled her nerves somewhat. She’d always been better at the middle distance races than full on sprints or the lengthy marathons. And by the restless energy Dani could see as Jamie paced the turf like a caged beast, Dani knew the previous loss would spur on whatever storm was brewing within her.

They settled in to watching races they didn’t particularly care for but commented mindlessly on anyways. Beside her, Carson was gnawing on a helpless piece of carrot as he kept up mindless anxious chatter with Judy while Eddie restlessly bounced his knee. Feeling far-flung and overwrought, Dani almost nudged him hard in the ribs to get him to stop, feeling the seat vibrate beneath her from the movement, when finally the four hundred meters event was announced to start.

Even as they were made to sit through the boys races before the girls could go, Dani inhaled a slow steadying breath, her fists clenched in her lap and clutching at the fabric of her dress until finally, it was time. The crowd seemed just as eager to get the race going just as much as they did, having cheered wildly during the boys races. The sound reverberated in Dani’s chest as they watched the first round of girls line up at the starting blocks and take off down the track, rounding the entire turf and crossing the line. A small group further along the stands cheered loudly at the resulting winner.

“Think that’ll be us in five minutes?” Carson said, and chuckled, sounding just short of strained as beside him, Judy clutched her cross necklace with her eyes closed, murmuring a prayer under her breath.

Dani didn’t answer, zeroing her eyes on Jamie immediately, as though tethered together by a thread, watching as Jamie made her way to the fifth lane. Brow furrowed, shoulders rigid, and fiddling again with the blue scrunchie. Dani pushed to her feet, biting her lip as her stomach coiled uncomfortably. Vaguely aware of the others following suit, Dani took another photo just for something to do with her hands than to ring them together or to bite deep into the skin of her thumb.

Jamie visibly exhaled between pursed lips and turned to scan the crowd with a piercing stare, hands braced on her hips. Carson waved enthusiastically, calling Jamie’s name. At the sound, Jamie’s gaze flickered to their location and when she finally spotted them, they cheered and waved. With a faint smile and nod, Jamie raised her hand in a furtive wave in return, shifting her weight from foot to foot, and returned her sharp gaze to the track, the line of her jaw taut. Dani exhaled slowly, feeling something inside her settle at the determination in Jamie’s expression. A fixed point of certainty spooling over her as Jamie got into position at the starting block.

The starting pistol went off with a small bang and Jamie took off like a shot. Dani held her breath. Arms pumping and feet pounding as she rounded the first bend, Jamie moved faster than Dani’s ever seen her. She watched with unblinking eyes, holding her breath, hearing Carson mutter encouragements under his breath, spurring Jamie on as he bounced on his toes.

“Come on, come on,” Dani murmured repeatedly.

Halfway down the track, Jamie was holding steady at third place until they reached the second bend. As though hearing Dani’s murmured prayers in the wind, a rush of energy seemed to push her forward. Like a spark had lit beneath her feet, Jamie sprinted past the remaining runners.

Carson grasped her arm. “Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Is she -?”

“She’s pulling ahead!” Eddie finished, disbelief and excitement in his voice all at once.

Dani watched wide eyed and unhearing, her heart pounding against her ribs, cheering Jamie on with the O’Mara’s as Jamie pulled further and further ahead and crossed the finish line. Jamie slowed to a stop, breathing heavy, her hands folded behind her head, almost in disbelief as the announcer called out her time and new conference record.

Carson jostled Dani’s shoulder, cheering wildly and bouncing on his feet. Dani laughed, a swell of pride filling her chest as she watched a slow smile emerge on Jamie’s face, relief and triumph set in her shoulders as she accepted congratulations from her coach and teammates. But when Jamie turned to face the stands again, her gaze searching and landing on the group waving enthusiastically towards her, Jamie’s smile broadened and she made a beeline straight for the stands, her eyes set intently on Dani. Before Dani knew what she was doing, she was shuffling down the bench past the perplexed but laughing O’Mara’s and hopping down the stairs towards the brick barricade.

Her skin abuzz and her heart going a mile a minute, Dani laughed as Jamie hopped easily on equipment lining the barricade to scale the brickwork and hang from the ledge by her arms. She met Dani with a crooked grin and a bright glint in her eyes. “So, you were sayin’ something about free lunch?” Jamie teased.

Dani laughed and nodded. “I always keep my promises.”

“I know you do,” Jamie said with a smug smirk.

There was a bright flush to Jamie’s cheeks and a newfound cockiness about her that Dani made Dani pause, blinking down with a charmed smile. She placed a hand on Jamie’s arm that was straining against the weight of holding herself up, and leaned down to press a kiss to Jamie’s cheek.

“I’m so proud of you,” Dani said.

Jamie blinked up at her, eyes just short of wide. Her mouth curved into a slow smile, affection blooming across her face. She reached up and tugged gently on a strand of Dani’s hair. “Thanks, Poppins,” she murmured, coiling the strand around a finger, “Means a lot coming from you.”

“I know,” Dani repeated, grinning when Jamie huffed out a laugh and shook her head.

“Taylor! Get down from there!”

With a grimace, the pair glanced back towards Jamie’s coach who stood scowling at them from the turf with his hand on his hips.

“Sorry!” Jamie called back, not sounding sorry at all. She turned back to Dani and shot her one last grin. “Back to it, then.”

“Good luck,” Dani said. When Jamie finally dropped down, she called out, “Wait! One more photo!”

As Jamie laughed, Dani raised her camera just in time to capture it. When she lowered the camera, Jamie winked and began stepping backwards, her mouth quirked in that cocky grin, her eyes unmoving from Dani as she raised the hem of her shirt to wipe the sweat from her face, revealing her toned stomach.

“Taylor!” barked Jamie’s coach.

Dani chuckled and shook her head as Jamie rolled her eyes. Giving Dani one last smile, she turned and jogged back on the field. Dani remained there for a moment longer, watching with keen amusement as Jamie’s coach pointed at Jamie’s shirt in a clear display of admonishment. Jamie merely shrugged in response, visibly unmoved. Snickering, Dani finally returned to her seat.

In the end, Jamie only managed to win the one medal for the day, just barely missing out on third place for the eight hundred meter event by milliseconds. But even so, Jamie didn’t seem as bothered as before from losing, still riding the high from her record making win. At the end of the day’s events during the small medal ceremony, Jamie stood with her shoulders straight as the ribbon was placed around her neck. She displayed nothing more than a small crooked grin and a nod of the head in thanks to the medal bearer, but as Dani clicked photo after photo by the barricade, the image of Jamie through the viewfinder told a different story, capturing Jamie’s quiet pride and happiness.

After the ceremony, the crowd becoming restless to disperse to their cars, Jamie sent them a wave before retreating back to the school to change. While Carson and Judy wandered down the field to take a look around and greet Jamie’s coach, Eddie remained with Dani at the barricade to watch the ongoings of the stadium as they waited for Jamie to return.

“Still nervous?” Eddie asked with a teasing grin, leaning his hip on the barricade next to her.

Dani chuckled. “Ask me again tomorrow.”

“You got it.”

“I still can’t believe she broke the record,” Dani said, shaking her head with a broad smile.

Eddie nodded, looking incredulous for all his reassurances. “I knew she was fast, but not that fast.”

“She’s always full of surprises.”

“She’s going to be annoying about it too,” Eddie grumbled with a good natured grin.

Dani laughed and hit him lightly in the stomach. “Don’t be mean.”

He jerked back with an exaggerated motion, pressing a hand to his stomach with a chuckle. He looked at her with quiet affection, wearing a small smile, and asked, “Have you got any plans for later today?”

“I was going to go over to Jamie’s,” Dani said, “Want to see Nan’s face when she sees Jamie’s medal.”

“Sounds fun.” He nodded again and scratched the back of his neck, a bashful smile emerging on his face. Dani’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at the display. “So, I was thinking we should do something together soon. Just us.”

“Oh, yeah?” she said absently.

“I was thinking,” Eddie continued, a flush creeping up his cheeks, “We could go to the movies and get dinner some place that isn’t Big Bills for once. Or maybe to the botanical gardens. You like that place, right? We could go there and —" He paused, breathing out a laugh, “Um. Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“Really? I didn’t notice,” she said dryly, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Or, you could come to a party with me," he said quickly. "There's one at Roger's house next weekend. What do you say?"

Dani hesitated. “A party?”

“Yeah, I could pick you up and we could walk there? Roger just lives a few blocks away,” he said, “It’ll be fun, I promise.”

Biting her lip, Dani felt herself slowly nod. “Okay,” she murmured, unable to keep from smiling when his expression brightened, reaching forward to grasp her hand.

All too soon, Jamie made her return, dressed in shorts and a t-shirt as she ambled on the field, her medal proudly on display around her neck. Dani felt her shoulders drop at the sight of her, her smile softening as she watched Carson spot Jamie first and nearly took her off her feet in a running hug. Dani could hear Jamie’s laugh from here. Jamie ruffled Carson’s hair and accepted a hug from a visibly emotional Judy, letting Judy clasp her cheeks with a crooked grin and fond roll of her eyes. Beside her, Eddie laughed.

“Classic O’Mara treatment,” Eddie said, “I bet they have a whole cake planned for her.”

“And what about you?” Dani asked, still watching the scene on the field unfold.

She felt Eddie shrug. “Twenty bucks.” Dani shot him a perplexed look. He huffed out a sheepish laugh, and admitted, “She bet me she’d win gold before I could in tennis. Kinda already knew I didn’t stand a chance, but — ”

“You couldn’t resist,” Dani finished for him, rolling her eyes. “Idiots. The both of you.”

“You love us,” Eddie said with a broad grin, and nodded his head towards the field, “C’mon, they’re waiting for us.”

Her hand still clasped in Eddie’s, he guided her down to the field. They were greeted with Jamie catching sight of them and smirking. “Where’s my money, Ed?”

Eddie gave a long suffering sigh and handed her a twenty dollar bill. “Congratulations,” he grumbled but couldn’t hide his grin.

“Thanks, mate,” Jamie said, happily stuffing the bill in her pocket.

“You two are making bets again?” Judy admonished.

“Just a bit of fun,” Jamie said with a shrug and shot Judy her best innocent grin. Judy sighed and fondly shook her head.

“All right, missy. I know what you’re doing with that face,” Judy said, chuckling when Jamie’s grin turned impish, and gestured towards Dani. “Now, come on, I want some pictures.”

With only a minor amount of grumbling, Jamie acquiesced to more photos with the group. After the last photo of Jamie with Judy hugging her close by the shoulders, Dani was running out of film. At Judy’s insistence, Dani handed over her camera and was nudged towards Jamie with a hand to her back. Dani caught Jamie’s eyes and they shared a furtive roll of their eyes and smiles, but Dani’s was quick to drop when Jamie slung an arm around her shoulders and dragged the still clammy skin of her cheek along Dani’s.

“Ew, gross. Get off me,” Dani groaned, squirming and elbowing Jamie in the ribs. But Jamie just laughed and pulled her closer where Dani inevitably sank into her embrace, forgetting everything else as a thrill spread across her skin at Jamie’s arm around her, steady and warm.

“How’d you get on?” Nan called out from the kitchen when Jamie slammed the door shut behind them.

Still flushed with victory, Jamie marched through the house with Dani trailing behind her, removing the medal from around her neck so that she could hold it up by the ribbon like a hunter returning from the woods holding aloft an antler-crowned trophy. Standing at the counter and making sandwiches, Nan glanced over her shoulder, eyebrows rising in surprise when she saw Jamie’s prize.

“Well, well,” she said and set down the knife she had been wielding to spread mustard across a few slices of bread. “Let’s see it, then.”

Nan wiped her hands on the front of her apron before holding out her hand. Jamie let her have the medal and Nan turned it over for inspection. “We’ll have to put this one on the mantelpiece,” she mused aloud and Jamie beamed at the unexpected place of honor. Nan noticed with a wry smile. She handed the medal back. “Go on and put it on display. Your lunch is almost ready. And then you can take a shower. You need it.”

Jamie did not even balk at the little jab, and she grabbed back the medal, already hurrying into the cramped living room. There, she cleared a space on the mantelpiece over the small fireplace, pushing aside photographs and arranging it so that the medal sat front and center. Dani watched, leaning against the narrow doorway between the kitchen and the living room, arms crossed, smile broad.

Nan had returned to finishing up with sandwich assembly. “She put it right in the middle, did she?” Nan asked.

Dani shrugged helplessly in reply. Jamie was still fussing with the drape of the ribbon and the best angle of the medal so it might catch the gleam of sunlight.

Rolling her eyes, Nan muttered, “Christ. She’s going to be insufferable for weeks. You get the pictures?"

Dani waggled her camera and then set it on the counter. "Lots."

"Good," Nan said. Then she sighed, setting their sandwiches on small plates and calling out, “Don’t dawdle, Jamie. Come eat.”

Jamie purposefully bumped Dani’s shoulder as she passed, the two of them sharing grins and moving into the kitchen to take their plates. Dani sat across from Nan, but Jamie made a detour to the fridge to grab a pop for herself.

“Want one?” she asked, holding up a bottle.

Mouth already full of a bite, Dani lowered the sandwich and shook her head. Jamie kicked the refrigerator shut and made her way to the table. When she dropped into the middle seat, Nan gave her an inquiring gesture of one hand. “What? None for me?”

Jamie looked at her, then looked pointedly at the half full cup of tea at Nan’s elbow, then back again. Nan blinked down at the tea in surprise.

“Forget about that again, did you?” Jamie teased.

Lifting the cup and taking a sip, Nan glowered sullenly over it and Dani had to bite back a snort of laughter. The two did not look particularly alike most days apart from the square of their jaws. Nan’s eyes were a bright and inescapable blue, whereas Jamie’s were gray. Nan had hair like a torch in autumn struck through with white, whereas Jamie’s was dark and curly. Sometimes when they faced the same direction Dani could see the relation. Other times, like now, when they glowered and growled, the resemblance was uncanny.

“Where’s Mikey?” Dani asked before Jamie could say something to ruin Nan’s good mood. The two of them together could turn the weather from sun to storm in a snap.

“Asleep,” Nan answered and lowered her cup of tea. “For once.”

Taking a sip of her pop, Jamie made the sign of the cross at the news.

“So, no rough-housing or yelling,” Nan warned.

Jamie shot her an incredulous look. “Yelling? Have you met Dani?”

Dani froze at the mention of her name, teeth half buried into another bite of her lunch.

“Aye, and I’ve met you as well,” Nan said dryly. “I mean it. Let him sleep. And if anyone wakes him, so help me God –”

“Yeah, we get it. Keep your knickers on,” Jamie said.

Nan opened her mouth and she had a flinty glint in her eye, so Dani spoke quickly, “Thank you for lunch.”

Instead of being mollified, Nan simply narrowed her eyes in Dani’s direction. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” she said even as she picked up her own sandwich. “Being all charming as usual to make up for this one’s mouth.”

Both Jamie and Dani gave her their best innocent looks.

Nan sighed and looked heavenward. “A newborn, I can handle, but – dear Lord – save me from teenagers.”

Feeling a nudge against her foot, Dani glanced over to find Jamie smirking at her from around the bottle of cola. Jamie winked and Dani put her foot atop hers, resulting in a silent tussle beneath the table where they each tried to keep their foot atop the other’s. It would have passed unnoticed but for the way Jamie’s knee knocked the underside and the table rattled.

Nan appeared not at all surprised by these antics and was already reaching out to stabilise her cup of tea so it did not spill. “I suppose you’ll be staying the night as well?” she asked Dani.

“Can she?” Jamie asked.

“Only if that’s all right,” Dani added.

“I won today,” Jamie reminded Nan in a wheedling tone.

Nan rolled her eyes, looking exasperated, “Aye, I know that. And I didnae say she couldn’t.” Immediately Jamie brightened. That was until Nan asked, “Does your mother know?”

Chewing on the last bite of her sandwich, Dani lifted a hand to her mouth and nodded.

“Fine,” Nan relented.

“Can we have takeaway tonight?” Jamie asked.

Nan shot her a warning look. When it seemed that Jamie would continue, Nan said, “If you say you’ve won that bloody race one more time –”

“I wasn’t going to,” Jamie insisted.

Nan hummed a suspicious note. “I’ll think about it.”

Which of course meant it was in the bag. This time however Jamie did not let the triumph show so easily on her face. She changed the topic quickly before Nan could change her mind, and they finished lunch with a blow-by-blow recount of the race, in which Nan fact-checked Jamie’s claims with Dani, who verified or otherwise called out Jamie’s hyperboles.

When they’d finished, Jamie pushed back from the table and rose to her feet. “I’m off to have that shower.”

Nan scowled up at her. “You’ll do the washing up first.”

“I’ll –” Dani started to say.

“No,” said both Nan and Jamie at the same time, wearing identical expressions.

“– take a shower instead,” Dani finished weakly.

Clearing her throat, Dani excused herself from the table with a murmur, but the other two were already back to their usual bickering.

“ – Going to make her do your chores for you –”

“I wasn’t!”

“Keep your voice down!”

“You’re the one who -!”

“If you wake that baby, I will kill you.”

Jamie’s voice lowered to a theatrical whisper as she repeated, “You’re the one who –”

Dani did not wait around to hear the rest. Their hissing faded as she wandered down the hall towards the only shower in the house. She paused to open the hot water closet and pull out a spare towel on the way. The bathroom, like the rest of the house, was kept exceptionally clean but somehow general wear and age made it feel dingy.

She kept the shower short, knowing full well that the hot water in this house was limited to fifteen minutes at most before it dropped down to just shy of cold. Stepping out, she wrapped herself in a towel. The tiny mirror was chipped at the edges and completely fogged up so that she appeared to be a silhouette with dark smudges for eyes. She wiped it clean with her hand and opened a drawer in the vanity. There was no hairdryer. Dani merely dragged a comb through her hair, parting it just so in the mirror.

By the time she stepped out, pink-cheeked, still wrapped in a towel, clothes clutched to her chest, Jamie had finished with the dishes and was lounging in her room, waiting. She was propped on her narrow bed, one arm folded behind her head, while her other hand held open a paperback. It was not, Dani was relieved to see, the same dirty dime novel Jamie had stolen from David. In fact, the cover had been torn off in what appeared to be a deliberate act of vandalism, which was suspicious in and of itself.

“It’s all yours,” Dani said as she walked into the room, keeping a careful hand pinched tight at the fold of the towel across her chest.

Jamie glanced at her, returned to the book, then did a double take. Immediately she sat bolt upright, legs hanging over the side of her bed so that she faced away from Dani. “Jesus Christ,” she said, her accent thick. “Didn’t you take clothes into the bathroom with you?”

Setting her old clothes onto a corner of the mattress, Dani began rummaging through the chest of drawers for the spare set of pajamas she always wore while staying the night, which consisted of one of Jamie’s old t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants rolled up to the ankle. “I thought I’d change in here while you were in the shower.”

“Right,” Jamie said tightly and she cleared her throat, still not looking around. “Makes sense.”

Feeling slightly awkward, Dani lowered herself onto the edge of the mattress opposite Jamie. She crossed her legs at the ankle and kept her knees firmly pressed together. As if peering through her fingers at some kind of horror show, Jamie slowly peeked over her shoulder.

“Well?” Dani asked. “What are you waiting for?”

“What?” Jamie asked dumbly, her expression oddly neutral.

“Aren’t you going to -?” Dani made a furtive gesture towards the door and the hallway outside.

“Right,” Jamie repeated. “Right. Yeah.”

She dropped the paperback onto her bedside table, snatched up some clothes from the floor, and rose stiffly to her feet before walking out without a second glance in Dani’s direction. She shut the door in her wake, so that Dani was alone in her room. There was no familiar creak of footsteps across the old carpet, and for a long moment Dani listened for it in absolute puzzlement. Then, finally, a creak and another, and then the click of the bathroom door across the hall.

“Weird,” Dani muttered under her breath when she heard the muted spray of the shower open up through the walls.

Standing, she dropped the towel and pulled on the spare set of clothes. The old set she folded neatly for tomorrow and piled them atop the chest of drawers. Then with a long drawn out sigh Dani sprawled atop bedsheets that smelled like warmth and comfort. Sunlight slanted across her, warming her skin so that when she closed her eyes the room faded away in a wash of red. It was only when she grew too warm, when her skin prickled against the cotton fabric of Jamie’s t-shirt, that Dani rolled over into a patch of shade.

When she opened her eyes, the nightstand and its contents were waiting for her. The defaced book. A glass of near empty water. A battered pocket knife. An old-fashioned wristwatch turned on its side so that the face was clearly visible. Dani reached out and curled her fingers around it so she could flop onto her back and inspect it more closely. The watch had always seemed slightly too large for Jamie, something for her to grow into perhaps. Turning it over in her hands, Dani paused when she found Jamie’s name etched into the leather band as if by the careful tip of a knife, except it wasn’t in Jamie’s handwriting.

The door opened and Dani nearly dropped the watch directly onto her face. She fumbled with it and looked up as Jamie walked in, short wet hair clipped into a messy half bun, half-dressed already but with a towel still held around herself.

“Forgot a shirt,” Jamie mumbled, pulling open a drawer.

There was a glimpse of jean shorts beneath the towel, but the skin of her arms was still damp, her shoulders exposed. Dani’s eyes lingered over the old burn scar at one of Jamie’s shoulders. Too wide for a cigarette or even a cigar. Jamie had told her once it was an accident with a pot of boiling water, but had left it at that. And Dani had never pried.

When it appeared that Jamie was going to return to the bathroom, shirt in tow, Dani said, “You can just change here. I won’t look.”

A pause, and then Jamie shut the door, enclosing them inside her room, alone. She still hadn’t turned towards Dani since entering, and now Dani rolled back over into the patch of sunlight so that she faced away. Behind her she could hear the quick rustle of fabric, followed by a thump as the towel was tossed into the far corner of the room with the rest of the dirty laundry.

Hesitantly, Dani shuffled around on the bed, the mattress creaking beneath her, to find that Jamie was finishing up tucking a shirt into the waistband of her shorts.

Jamie glanced up. “Hand that over, won’t you?” she asked, holding out her hand.

For a moment Dani wondered what she was talking about, until she remembered she was still holding the watch. Wordlessly, she held it out and watched Jamie fasten it at her wrist.

“What did you want to do today?” Jamie asked, dropping onto the bed beside her.

Dani shrugged against the sheets and made space for the two of them. Even so the bed was small enough that being pressed up against one another was inevitable. “I’m not sure. I was just hoping to relax, I guess. And, y’know –”

“Get away from your mum?” Jamie finished for her.

“Yeah. And everything else.”

Jamie’s brow furrowed. She had situated herself against the pillows, half sitting up, one leg outstretched and the other bent so that she lounged. She cocked her head, looking curiously down at Dani sprawled beside her. “School?”

“Mmm,” Dani hummed, toying with a loose thread at the hem of the shirt she wore. “Mom wasn’t too thrilled about my grades this semester.”

Jamie rolled her eyes. “Did you get an A minus for once in your life?”

Cheeks flushing in embarrassment, Dani glared at her. “It wasn’t a – You know we graduate in two years, right?”

“How could I forget? Counting down the days until I’m out of this shit school.”

“Well, colleges look at this kind of thing pretty closely.”

“They’re not going to care about your A minus, Poppins. I guarantee it.”

“It was a B plus,” Dani muttered.

Jamie actually seemed surprised by this news. “In what? Astrophysics?”

Dani shoved playfully at her shoulder and Jamie had to stop herself from falling off the narrow mattress by grabbing hold of the bedside table, snickering. “I’m being serious, Jamie.”

“So am I,” Jamie said. “Nobody will care, except your mum, but she’s mental. And besides, once you’re away, you’re away laughing, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you can just –“ Jamie made an expansive motion towards the window. “- go. Wherever you want. To all those places you talked about seeing.”

The travel fund jar Jamie had given her for Christmas was still a staple of Dani’s room back at home. It was filed with cheap change and the occasional crumpled bill. There were even a few bits of paper with the letters ‘IOU’ scrawled across in various peoples’ handwriting – Jamie, mostly, but also Eddie and Carson and even one from Tommy after she had helped him back into his house late one evening while Judy was asleep. If there was more than fifty dollars in that jar, Dani would be shocked.

After all this time, the idea itself seemed absurd. Emptying out the jar across her bed. Leaving home. Not knowing where she might end up. Going somewhere – anywhere – with all her worldly possessions in a single bag.

"Do you ever get homesick?" Dani asked suddenly.

"No," said Jamie. And then, "Yes. Why?"

Dani shrugged. "I don't know. I've never been away from anywhere, I guess. So, I don't know what it feels like."

Jamie hummed a low and thoughtful note. "Feels like," she said, "wanting to be in your own bed."

Dani tried to imagine wanting to be in her own bed and ended up wrinkling her nose.

Jamie noticed and gave a little huff of laughter. "All right, then. More like — I dunno. You know how you go to the supermarket, and you recognise all the brands? It's like that."

"Homesickness," Dani repeated slowly, "is like grocery shopping?"

"No, it's -" Jamie dragged a hand down her face and sighed. "It's wanting that. Missing that. The knowing. The certainty."

"What if you know the brands in both places?" Dani asked. "In England and America."

Jamie blinked at her then let her arm flop back to her side and replied, "Then I'll miss both, I suppose."

"I much prefer being here. Your bed is better than mine."

"Smaller, though," Jamie pointed out.

Dani shrugged. Jamie was watching her fondly. Her hair had begun to dry in curls. Dani reached up to tuck one behind her ear. “You should really use those hair clips I got you.”

Jamie had gone very still and only seemed to come to when Dani lowered her hand. “Nan uses them instead,” she said, then bumped Dani’s knee with her own. “I got you something as well. One sec.”

She bounced off the bed and went rummaging around in her school bag for something. Dani rolled onto her stomach, knees bent so that her heels curved towards her thighs, and she rested her chin on her crossed arms, waiting. When Jamie stood and held out her hand, Dani perked up and took what was being offered.

It was a black cassette tape. A piece of plain white tape had been stuck to the front and atop it scrawled in permanent marker the words ‘Jamie’s Mixtape (1978).’ Dani turned it over in her hands in search of any more information regarding tracks and contents, but found none.

“Can we listen to it?” she asked.

Looking almost sheepish, Jamie rubbed at the back of her neck. “Yeah. Sure. Though –” she cast a quick glance over her shoulder towards the door. “We’ll need to keep it down. Otherwise I’ll be murdered.”

“Not me though?” Dani countered with a grin.

“Nah. She likes you.”

The little Panasonic radio Jamie kept in her room had a cassette player as well. Lifting it from the floor by its silver handle, Jamie brought it with her onto the bed. Dani handed over the cassette and Jamie popped it into place, switching on the radio and then very quickly turning it down to the lowest volume setting. She offered the radio to Dani, who placed it snugly between them, so that it was cradled atop the mattress.

The faint breathy strains of the first song began to play and Jamie reached for her book on the table beside her. There were plenty of other books Dani could have read. She could have even wandered back out to the living room and retrieved the current book she was reading from her bag, but she did not move. It was only when Jamie flipped a page that Dani shifted the radio so that she could set her head in Jamie’s lap and loosely curl up into a ball on the mattress.

Her eyes fluttered shut when she felt one of Jamie’s hands begin to thread through her hair. The movements were slow, almost hesitant. Jamie would stop every so often to turn a page, but always inevitably her hand would be drawn back, fingers carding through Dani’s hair, nails lightly scratching against her scalp until Dani was lulled by touch and music, listening as though from miles away. Even when Jamie had to pause and set down her book in order to flip the tape over to the B side, Dani only gave a murmur of complaint until Jamie’s hand found its way back into her hair.

The day was unseasonably warm for spring, vernal verging on summer. The B side of the tape was far more energetic than the previous side, the songs tailored to Jamie’s tastes rather than her own. More awake, more present, Dani tapped along to the rhythm against Jamie’s bare knee and felt Jamie do the same to her head like some sort of call and response.

“Read to me?” Dani suggested.

Jamie’s fingers slowed. “You wouldn’t like it,” she said.

“Why? Is it smutty?”

“Not in this scene. But I imagine it’ll heat up soon.” Jamie turned a page. “Ah, there we go.”

“I take it back,” said Dani dryly. Jamie snorted and Dani rolled over just in time to catch her faint grin. With a smile of her own and a shake of her head, Dani lifted herself into a sitting position and then stood. “I’m going to get a drink. Do you want anything from the kitchen?”

Not looking up from her book, Jamie shook her head. “Nah. I’m good, thanks.”

Dani made sure to shut the door behind her when she left so that none of the music would leak out into the rest of the house. Once in the hallway she was gratified to hear nothing from Jamie’s room, not even the muted hint of the music still playing. On her way towards the kitchen she paused, poking her head into the living room. Nan was asleep on her usual chair, a new cup of untouched tea sitting on the table beside her, a book propped open on her lap, her chin tucked against her chest. Dani crept forward and took the cup of tea so she could wash it and put it away.

She was quiet and sneaky and far too practised at such things. Nan did not stir at all.

The trip to the kitchen was quick – pour of a jug clinking with ice cubes into a glass topped with a sprig of mint from the nearby garden – and she was back on her way to Jamie’s room. She sucked on a straw as she carefully shut the door behind her, once more enfolded in the warmth and light and familiarity of this place.

Jamie had propped an arm behind her head, eyebrows quirked as she continued reading while the radio played another song on the tape.

Kneeling on the bed beside her, Dani held out the glass and positioned the straw towards Jamie. “Here,” she said. “Try this.”

Jamie did not bother even looking up as Dani guided the straw into her mouth for a sip. Immediately she froze, drew her head back, and made a face. “Dani,” she said seriously. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Dani was biting back a smile. “You don’t like it?” she asked innocently.

“I feel like I just swallowed a liquid pastry.”

“It’s not that sweet.”

“It is. It really is.”

Lifting the straw back to her own mouth with a shrug, Dani took a sip. “Tastes good to me.”

Jamie chuckled as Dani sat back down beside her, close enough that their shoulders were pressed together. The cassette played at their feet. “What do you have going on next weekend?” Jamie asked, returning to her book.

“Oh, uh,” Dani played with the straw, using it to push around bits of floating ice and mint. “I think I’m going to a party.”

Hearing that, Jamie’s head jerked around. “A party? You?”

“Yeah.”

“Since when do you go to parties?”

“Eddie asked if I wanted to go with him.”

Somehow that simple admission felt like Dani had just tipped the glass of iced tea over both their heads. Outside, the sun had begun its slow descent to the horizon, casting late flossy afternoon rays through the trees. The slant of light had roved slowly from Jamie’s bed to the opposite wall. Dani stuck the end of the straw back into her mouth rather than contemplate why this was the effect, rather than contemplate the strange fascination of watching Jamie drink, rather than contemplate the thrill she felt knowing that Jamie’s mouth had been where hers was just moments ago.

“Finally worked up the courage to ask you on a date, has he?” Jamie asked.

Dani’s brows knit together. “What do you mean?”

Jamie gave a derisive snort and set the book down on her lap, keeping one finger wedged beneath the pages to save her place. “Come off it. You really haven’t noticed?”

Dani opened her mouth, but the lie died on the tip of her tongue when Jamie gave her a look. “I mean,” Dani floundered, “Yeah, I’ve – I’ve noticed. Do you want to come, too?”

Jamie crinkled her nose as though at a bad smell. “And be a third wheel? Thanks, but no thanks.”

“I didn’t mean for a date. It doesn’t have to be a date,” Dani said quickly, but Jamie had already returned to her book. “It can just be – I don’t know – hanging out. Like we always do. I just want to hang out with you. Both of you. And Carson.”

“Think Carson would enjoy that even less than I would,” Jamie said, but she gave Dani a small smile and knocked their ankles together. “Relax. You should go. Enjoy yourself. Have fun.”

The way she said it didn’t sound like having fun, though. The way she said it was with a tight voice, expression painstakingly neutral, the kind of forced good cheer with which Dani was all too familiar. Watching Jamie turn away from her, Dani was reminded of what Judy had said years ago. About Jamie too used to being alone. And suddenly she was awash with the desire to jump to her feet, haul Jamie up as well, grab that jar of coins and cash, take Nan’s truck and go – somewhere. The movies again, perhaps. Or maybe further. Across state lines, leaving Iowa for the first time even if just for a few moments just so they could say they’d done it and that they’d done it together. It didn’t matter where, so long as there was movement and freedom and Jamie.

Instead, Dani, tense and poised, lifted the drink to her mouth and took a mechanical saccharine sip. At the foot of the bed, the radio went quiet so that only a static white noise hummed forth as the tape revolved again and again. The last song had finished, and they were, it seemed, stuck on a loop, forever repeating.

Eddie was sitting outside on the steps of her porch when Dani met him outside. He twisted around and aimed a smile up at her, standing upright.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Dani said, running a hand anxiously through her hair, adjusting the strands over her shoulder.

“It’s all right,” Eddie said, shrugging, “I didn’t mind.”

Dani gave him a faint smile, taking in the new sweater she’s never seen him wear before and his hair, uncustomarily neat from his usual mess of curls. But when her eyes drifted down to his hands, she only now noticed the small vase of white flowers he held.

“Oh. Um - Is that -?" She gestured to the flowers.

“Oh! Yeah, here,” Eddie said, clearing his throat and thrusting the flowers towards her, “They’re for you.”

Frozen for a moment, Dani stared dumbly at the flowers, the transparent vase smooth under her hands. “Thank you,” she murmured, and flickered a weak grin at him. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.” Eddie shrugged, his shoulders bunched to his ears as he dug his hands deep in his pockets, grinning that same bashful smile. “To be honest, I didn’t know what to really get you. I asked Jamie for help and she said flowers and helped me pick those. Think they’re called gardenias?”

Dani swallowed thickly, not knowing what else to say. Jamie’s words from the week before ringing in her ears. She didn’t know why the thought never occurred to her, not when he was looking at her as he was now. Like she held a shooting star in her hand, a wish for the taking. All too easily, she could recall the last ten years of the same smile, the same sidelong looks when he thought she wasn’t paying attention.

With the late evening air feeling thick like molasses, Dani gave him another small grin, her ears burning. She gestured behind her, and said, “I’m just - I’m gonna put them inside. I don’t want — “

“Yeah, of course,” Eddie said, chuckling.

Dani returned inside her house, scanning the atrium for a place to put the vase, eventually landing on a corner table that held its own flower of the plastic variety. Shoving the fake plant aside, Dani set the vase on the table and blinked down at it. The petals were pure white, looking velvety and soft to the touch. She reached up to take a petal between two fingers to confirm that they were and didn’t even have to bend low to inhale it's incredibly fragrant tropical scent. Exhaling softly, almost dizzy from the heady smell, Dani gave it one last look before returning outside to Eddie.

In the glow from the porch light, Eddie appeared almost ghostly as he waited for her, cast in both shadow and sickly bright light. When she made her reappearance, he turned and his expression brightened, but as she locked the house behind her, he glanced towards the door with a furrow in his brow.

“Your mom knows you’re going out, right?” he asked, his expression wary.

“She does,” Dani said, her jaw tight, “She’s also not home right now so, it doesn’t really matter.”

“Right,” Eddie said, sounding unconvinced.

Unlike Jamie, Eddie had the misfortune of never having found the right handle of managing his discomfort and apprehension when it came to her mother. She couldn’t truly fault him for it, not when his own mom was who she was. And not when Dani’s mom was who she was. Eddie, born with a silver spoon, and Dani, on the razor edge of a sharp blade.

“It’s fine,” Dani said.

His shoulders softened and he grinned. “All right,” he said, and grasped her hand, “Ready?”

With a nod, they set off. Walking hand in hand down the street in companionable silence, passing under yellow street lamps and houses that were as familiar to her as her own. In the blue evening gleam, Dani could almost pretend this was another normal day. Walking home late after one of Eddie’s ball games. Heading to Big Bill’s for impromptu milkshakes and fries. But Eddie’s hand was steady in hers, and nothing could distract her from how strange it felt, how different, when the last decade was spent with casual and comforting affection that had never given Dani pause the way it did now.

“I’m really happy that you agreed to come,” Eddie said, broaching the quiet between them.

She blinked at him. “Yeah?”

He nodded, grinning boyishly, a happy glint in his eyes. “Mom’s kind of over the moon about it,” he said, chuckling, “Said she’s been waiting for this since we were kids.”

Dani’s stomach twisted. She looked away, eyes unseeing on the path before them. “I had no idea,” she said softly, knowing at once that was a lie.

In her periphery, Eddie nodded. “Always said we were inevitable,” he said, “I thought so too.”

Swallowing thickly, Dani chuckled but there was no amusement to it. She felt Eddie squeeze her hand briefly before tangling their fingers. She let him, his hand warm under her skin. He didn’t say anything more as they walked, and for that she was grateful. She wouldn’t have remembered anyways, not realizing they had made it to Roger’s house until they were turning up a walkway and the porch to knock on his door. It swung open and they were greeted with not Roger, but one of their classmates who Dani shared a few classes with.

After being ushered inside, Dani took the moment of Eddie being distracted by conversation with their friend to take stock. To exhale a low, unsteady breath, her free hand clenched tightly by her side, the other still clutched in Eddie’s. She looked around, having never been in Roger’s house before, a modest bungalow with matching furniture and wood paneled walls. They had shared multiple classes and extracurriculars over the recent years, and a newfound quiet camaraderie as project partners or sticking together in their mutual clubs, but she had never gone so far as to visit his house.

And inside, it was already packed with what seemed to be almost their entire sophomore class and a few upperclassmen, conversing and laughing, rock music playing on the stereo system. The sounds converged until it seemed to blend into a string of white noise. Dani shifted on her feet, worrying at her lower lip as she took in the scene of classmates she rarely spoke to outside of school, carrying around red cups and cans of beer. Tension creeped into her shoulders and she took a step closer to Eddie.

He squeezed her hand and leaned down to murmur, “Do you want to get a drink?”

Sweeping her eyes anxiously again across the visible space of Roger’s house, Dani swallowed hard and nodded faintly. Pleased, Eddie guided her through the house in search of the kitchen, passing by their classmates, some of whom recognized Dani and waved in surprised. When they located the kitchen, it was small but no less crowded than the rest of the house. Teenagers in varying states of inebriation tucked into corners or lining the counters. The kitchen island surface was a spread of a plethora of alcohol and snacks, a bowl of punch sitting proudly in the center.

And in the middle of it all was Roger, digging out cans of beer from his fridge, shaggy hair and a white t-shirt under a jean jacket. When he caught sight of them, he stood upright and smiled, standing tall above most of everyone in the room besides Eddie.

“Hey,” he said happily, “You guys made it.”

“Yeah, thanks for the invite,” Eddie said.

“No problem,” Roger said, shrugging, “Think there’s people here I didn’t even invite anyways.”

Dani glanced furtively around the room. “Seems like almost everyone in our grade is here.”

“Well, almost everyone,” Roger said, and leaned closer to stage-whisper with a conspiratorial sly smile, “Didn’t invite Sterling and Jackie.”

Dani’s eyes went wide and she chuckled, shaking her head at the mischievous glint in Roger’s eyes. “Was that a good idea?”

Shrugging again, Roger gave a noncommittal sound and said, “Nothing I can’t handle.” He paused, and then added with a small frown and twist of his mouth, “Wouldn’t be surprised if they crashed at some point later, though.”

“Okay, I think it’s time to go. This guy has a death wish,” Eddie said, pulling on Dani’s arm but unable to hide his huff of laughter.

Roger laughed, but Dani remained quiet, shifting on her feet and squashing down the urge to drag Eddie by the hand back to his house at the very notion of being at the same house party with Sterling and Jackie.

The pair didn't notice. Roger gestured around the kitchen. “You guys want a drink?” He said, “I’ve got all kinds of stuff.”

“Where did you even get all of this?” Dani asked, quirking an eyebrow and glancing at the kitchen island.

“My cousin,” Roger said. “Bought it for me.”

Dani offered him a smile, and polite to a fault, hesitantly said, “Well, um. I’d love a drink, then.”

The bashful tension in his shoulders easing, an eager grin forming on his face, Roger said, “Sure thing. What d’you guys like?”

Dani hesitated again, eyeing the plethora of bottles and beer cans. She didn’t drink often, or if at all. Not seeing the appeal to it most of the time besides an occasional stolen sip of beer from the twins or when Jamie managed to sneak cheap whiskey and coke into school in a hip flask. But Roger and Eddie were looking at her expectantly, and her stomach tightened into an anxious coil. Her fingers itched to twist together, but her right hand was still grasped in Eddie’s.

As though sensing her uncertainty, Eddie grinned at her and said, “How about some beer to start?” Dani scrunched her nose and he laughed. “Okay, spiked punch juice it is.”

Roger looked at her and raised his eyebrows, waiting. At Dani’s nod, he grinned and pointed towards a corner of the counter where a stack of red cups sat next to a toaster. “Cups are there, punch is there. Feel free to help yourself to snacks too,” he said, gathering his cans of beer where he had rested them on the counter when he first sighted the pair as Eddie went about gathering their drinks.

“Thanks, Roger,” Dani said.

“Anytime,” he said, slowly retreating out of the kitchen, “Thanks for coming again. Let me know if you guys need anything else.”

“We will,” Dani said as Eddie handed her a red cup filled with pale red punch, the smell pungent with sweet peach and vodka.

At the first sip, Dani twisted her mouth, letting the taste settle as she swallowed it down. Eddie laughed, sipping at his own beer. “It’ll taste better after a few more sips,” Eddie said.

Sparing a look of apprehension into the cup, Dani said, “That’s what everyone says. Doesn’t make it any more true.”

As Eddie laughed, stepping back towards the kitchen island to poke at a bowl of chips and converse with friends, Dani took another hesitant sip, looking to trace where Roger had retreated straight across the hallway into the living room, and froze, eyes wide. Jamie stood leaning back against a bookcase, arms folded and staring directly at her. Dani blinked. Hair tied up in a messy devil-may-care bun, a band t-shirt tucked into jeans ripped at the knees and donning an oversized flannel, she looked no different than Dani’s seen her, but there was something different in the way she wore it, in the way she held herself. A slow grin creeped along Jamie’s face when their eyes met, and then she winked.

Before Dani could do anything more than stare in surprise, Roger moved into her field of vision, stepping next to Jamie and handing her a beer. With a slow blink, Jamie tore her eyes away from Dani to give Roger a nod in thanks, taking a long sip. Roger tucked a hand into his pocket, leaning his shoulder against the bookcase next to Jamie, saying something that Dani couldn’t hear from this distance. Dani watched as Jamie listened and responded, but only seemed to be half listening to him, her eyes occasionally straying back to Dani, a curve to the corner of her mouth.

When Roger was distracted by one of Jamie’s teammates, the next time Jamie met her eyes, Dani gave her a questioning look. Jamie shrugged a shoulder. Just as Dani finally took a step towards her, a pair of friends from her algebra class came up to happily greet her, surprised to find Dani at a house party for the first time. When Eddie returned to her side and grasped her hand again, the two girls caught the movement and gave Dani teasing, knowing smiles. A whorl of discomfort swam in Dani’s stomach and she shot Jamie another quick look, only to be greeted with Jamie smirking, arching an eyebrow as she raised her beer to take one long slow sip, eyes unmoving from Dani’s. With a quiet huff, the taste of peach and vodka on her tongue, Dani pressed on a polite smile, and returned to the conversation.

Eddie held her hand the entire time, solid and warm in her own. In between chatter in the kitchen and delving deeper into the house, they passed Jamie and Roger. Eddie didn’t even stop to say hello, only waved in greeting as Jamie nodded her chin in response, and pulled Dani further along to settle on a couch in the living room. Glancing curiously over her shoulder, instead of meeting Jamie’s eyes, instead of finding her following after them, Jamie was turned away, remaining where she was next to Roger.

Dani’s mouth pressed into a thin line, and for one brief moment, Dani wanted to walk over just to hear Jamie’s voice and inquire why she was spending time with Roger of all people. But when Roger laughed brightly at something Jamie said, she sighed. Deciding it was none of her business, she turned her attention back to Eddie when he squeezed her hand, that unpleasant feeling in her stomach a constant presence as she sank further into the couch, her shoulders stiff.

While neither she nor Eddie were social butterflies by any means, they somehow held the attention of many of their friends and classmates. Dani could almost feel the whispers creep along the room, like a pin prick to the back of her neck. A creeping vine of round robin circling the house: Dani and Eddie arrived together holding hands. Nothing of it was said out loud, nothing ever was unless it was whispered in one ear to the other. But Eddie seemed aware all the same, his shoulders straight, his smile broad and proud, his attention all on Dani.

Squished together on the couch, their hips touching, Eddie’s thumb stroking her knuckles, Dani could do nothing more than smile. Holding it until it hurt. Hiding behind her cup as she took sips that no longer felt like she was swallowing acid. Eddie was saying something, Eddie was speaking in low tones beside her, but Dani was glancing over her shoulder again and was greeted once more with Jamie already staring at her. Their eyes met and Dani exhaled slowly, something in her chest unspooling as the corner of Jamie’s mouth curved into a faint grin.

“So, what do you think?”

Dani blinked and turned back to Eddie. “Sorry?”

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “Cedar Rapids. What do you think?”

“It’s nice?”

Looking at her quietly, indulgent and warm, Eddie said, “Is that drink already getting to you?”

Glancing inside the cup, there was still more than half of it remaining. “No, I’m - “ she scrambled to reply, her hand flexing around the cup, threatening to crush it, “I’m just - “

Eddie squeezed her other hand. “It’s okay,” he murmured, and glanced furtively around the room before admitting, “I’m not used to it either.”

She gave him a weak smile and ducked her head. “But really though,” Eddie continued, giving her hand a teasing shake, “What do you think about visiting my aunt in Cedar Rapids soon? Mom said it’d be a long weekend trip. A backyard barbeque, fireworks, the whole nine yards.”

“That sounds really nice actually,” Dani admitted. She had always liked Eddie’s extended family, the easy affection and acceptance of the O’Mara’s running deep. Plus, time away from her mom and that oppressively quiet house was always a bonus. It was only just —

Dani shot Jamie another quick glance, finding her laughing and rolling her eyes at something Roger was saying. Dani briefly entertained the idea of smuggling Jamie along, but promptly squashed the idea, knowing Jamie would turn the offer down with a distasteful twist of her mouth at the presumptuous thought of playing third wheel.

She turned back to catch Eddie’s eye, waiting and watching her with an expression lined with anxious anticipation. His glasses had slipped low down his nose, and she softened with a small smile. Easing her hand out of his to push it back up, she said, “I’d love to go.”

He beamed at her, immediately grasping her hand again, tangling their fingers. Dani took a heady swig of her drink in a futile attempt at washing away the thickness and panic in her throat.

Dani forced herself to socialize. Eager to burst out of this bubble Eddie had made for them on the couch, the world surrounding them muffled and blurred. A stage to present themselves as something more than what they were. Dani pressed out of it, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees to converse with her friends and classmates. To move to her feet and observe a game of beer pong at the dining table and wave away the offers to participate. To laugh and pretend that there wasn’t that same ringing in her ears like a claxon, the ominous thump of her heart beat when Eddie made his way back to her side, his palm pressed to the middle of her back as he laughed when an errant ping pong ball fell to the floor, the result of a poor toss.

She felt eyes on her again, a piercing stare burning into the side of her face. Turning, she caught Jamie’s gaze again, watching her this time with an unreadable expression, nursing a beer in one hand and fiddling with her coin necklace in the other, making no attempt to move closer, to come and say hello. Dani looked away, taking another long swig of her drink, draining the cup, feeling untethered and unmoored all at once.

It was easier somehow, to drift back into the kitchen with the urge to find another drink with Jamie’s eyes on her, following her around the room wherever she went when she wasn’t distracted by conversation. Easy to drain half of her drink in one go and refill her cup again with Eddie lingering beside her, unwilling to leave her side. There was a restlessness that pulsed beneath her skin. To turn and march towards Jamie, only to find she had wandered somewhere else in the house, deep into conversation with one person or another, Roger a constant presence by her side. To slip out the door, back home where she didn’t feel like a marionette doll puppeted by invisible strings. But with nowhere else to put that anxious energy, Dani settled on sipping generously from her cup, almost unaware she was doing so.

With her third cup drained, Dani eventually had to use the bathroom. With a murmur to Eddie who nodded with a happy glint in his eyes, she slipped out from under his arm that he had draped across her shoulders sometime over the course of the night and made her way down a hall, vaguely aware that there was a tingling buzz to her flushed cheeks and a sway to her gait. Twist of the lock. Flick of the light switch. She stood quietly, her back against the door for a brief moment, smoothing down the front of her dress as though she could smooth away the coil of her stomach. Washing her hands, she let the cold water run across her hands and wrists, splashing some on her cheeks to battle the heat and buzz, exhaling unsteadily.

“Get it together, Dani,” she murmured, her eyes pressed shut, her hands digging into the edges of the counter.

She stood there for a moment longer, listening to the muffled bass of music through the walls, breathing in the empty space of the bathroom, away from lingering stares and whispers that trailed after her and Eddie. Steadying that anxious thrum of her pulse under her skin. But when she returned outside the bathroom, dodging partygoers saying hello in passing or eager to exchange words, slipping past a couple making out in a corner, Dani made her way towards the living room but jerked to a stop when she spotted Jamie and Eddie having a heated conversation at the end of the hallway. Dani couldn’t hear them from where she stood, but even with just their postures, she knew it wasn’t good. Dani sighed with mild exasperation as she watched them, her shoulders slumping as she folded her arms.

Though he stood nearly a foot taller than Jamie, Eddie shrunk back from her, chagrined and his shoulders bunched as Jamie spoke between gritted teeth, her expression dark and peeved. When Eddie spoke again, shrugging helplessly, Jamie rolled her eyes and smacked him hard enough on the shoulder that he jerked back from the force of it, hissing at him. Eddie scowled and hissed back with exasperation.

Dani slowly shook her head, watching them bicker, unmoved to step in to intervene. They’d get over it eventually. They always did. Squabbling and scowling one day, then sitting in front of the television during a soccer game the next. Jostling each other's shoulders with every goal scored, or jeering teasingly when they rooted for separate teams. They more often than not argued over the correct term for the sport: soccer or football. And with the world cup this summer, she expected it to escalate.

Just as Dani was nearing the resignation of needing to intervene with the way the arguing pair were attracting attention, it reached its peak when Jamie barked loud enough to hear, “For fuck’s sakes , Ed.”

“I’m sorry, all right?” Eddie yelled back, looking earnestly apologetic.

Jamie shook her head, her jaw a taut line of clenched muscle as she scowled at him. Eddie spoke again, softer this time, and Dani was only able to just make out the words, ‘I’m sorry’, from reading his lips.

Exhaling heavily, her hands clenched into fists, Jamie gave him a curt nod and muttered something again. Eddie’s shoulders slumped and he nodded back, solemn and sheepish. Dani’s brow furrowed as they stood there, silent and unwilling to meet each other’s eyes before finally Jamie said something again, hitting Eddie once more in the shoulder with her fist, and marched away into the kitchen without a backwards glance. Rubbing at his shoulder with a wince, Eddie rolled his eyes and retreated back into the living room.

And just like that, the storm had passed. Dani blinked, and exhaled, shaking her head again in mild bewilderment. Neither of them had seen her. Dani bit her lip as she considered her options, her eyes dancing between the living room and kitchen. It was a stalling tactic. A useless one. Her feet already moving to the kitchen, a hand skimming the wall to help maintain her balance as the world seemed to tip just slightly on its axis after standing still for too long.

The kitchen was sparse when Dani stepped in, a group huddled in a corner, laughing as they conversed and binged on snacks. On the other side of the kitchen island was Jamie, digging inside the fridge for another drink. When she popped back out, a can of beer in hand, she froze and blinked in surprise when she caught sight of Dani there.

Dani slowly folded her arms and arched an eyebrow. At the look, Jamie huffed, cracking open her beer and grumbled, “Caught all that, did you?”

“Do I even want to know?” Dani asked as Jamie took a hefty swig, her grip tight on the can.

Jamie shook her head with a breath of laughter. “Just the usual shit,” she said with a shrug, “You know how it goes: He pisses me off. I threaten to crack his skull. He whines and apologizes. And I forgive him, like a twat.”

Though her irritated expression was softening gradually, there was a sharpness to the words, as though Jamie was speaking through a bit caught in between clenched teeth. Dani eyed her carefully, and said, “Do I need to play mediator again?”

“No,” Jamie said, chuckling, “Nothin’ that extreme. Just a stupid fight.” When Dani gave her a dubious look, she grinned softly, the tension easing from her posture. “I promise.”

“If you say so,” Dani said, shrugging.

Jamie stared at her, still wearing that soft grin, and said, “You want another drink?”

“Oh - um,” Dani said, and her crossed arms tightened, “Sure?”

Jamie gave her a look. “Try again.”

“Yes?”

Shaking her head fondly, Jamie said, “That’ll do.”

Dani almost expected her to shove her opened can of beer into Dani’s hands. To fill a cup with spiked punch. And indeed Jamie reached for a red cup, but instead of punch, she filled it with water from the sink and wordlessly handed it to Dani. Pressing the lip of the cup to her mouth for a sip, Dani shot her an appreciative glance but Jamie wasn’t looking, already busy munching on chips from a bowl.

It was easier to see now, the thin layer of red painted on Jamie’s lips. The blue scrunchie still wrapped around her wrist, just above her watch, the color standing out against the muted dark tones of Jamie’s clothes. Lingering on the scrunchie, Dani slowly leaned her hip against the island counter beside Jamie, and said, “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“Didn’t know myself until a few hours ago.” Dani tore her eyes back up with a questioning look and Jamie shrugged. “Roger invited me.”

“Oh,” Dani murmured, “Yeah, that makes sense. Well - um. I’m glad you’re here.”

Jamie gave her another soft grin, but didn’t say anything more. Instead, she took another swig of her beer, and asked, “You having fun then?”

Hesitating, Dani glanced around, biting her lower lip. Realizing she was taking too long to reply, she nodded and said, “Sure.”

But Jamie noticed, arching an eyebrow. “Yeah? Ed treating you well?” Jamie’s eyes were sharp and vivid, effectively pinning Dani to the spot. Swallowing thickly, Dani nodded again. “Good. ‘Cause you know, he does something stupid, and I’ll castrate him.”

Dani laughed, feeling her cheeks warm, a knot in her chest loosened. Jamie gave her a pleased smile, but her tone was even and low. “I’m serious, Dani.”

“I know,” Dani said in between chuckles, “He’s been fine. I promise.”

“Just fine?”

“You know what I mean.”

Jamie chuckled. “If you say so,” she said dubiously.

Though she was still sharp around the edges, Jamie seemed softer than she did a few minutes ago. Slouching against the counter, her warm eyes scanning over Dani, slowly looking her up and down. Dani felt frozen under the attention, finding herself loath to move lest she break the spell, her heart rate ticking up.

“That’s new,” Jamie said, gesturing to Dani’s blue dress, “Looks nice.”

Blinking, Dani glanced down, and ran a hand over invisible wrinkles. “Yeah?” she murmured, looking up to catch Jamie’s eyes, but found Jamie’s gaze lingering on the hemline of her dress that stopped at her knees.

“Brings out your eyes,” Jamie said. She took a long sip of her beer and gave her a wink, smirking around the can.

Dani huffed out a laugh and rolled her eyes, but a warmth was still cast over her skin, heating her cheeks. Even though she had felt Eddie’s sneaking occasional glances over the course of the night, he himself had yet to mention her new dress, dug out from the back of her closet for this evening. And as though tethered to Dani’s gravity, a tall frame stepped into the kitchen and they both turned to find Eddie, his expression brightening when he spotted her.

“Hey, there you are,” he said, and briefly glanced anxiously at Jamie before aiming a smile at Dani, “Wondered where you went. A bunch of us are about to play some games in the living room. Came to find you to play.”

“Games?” Dani said tentatively, shrinking back slightly against the counter.

Eddie nodded. “Thought it could be fun,” he said, and after a moment of hesitation, twisting his mouth with uncertainty, he added, “You too, Jamie.”

Dani looked at Jamie with mild eager hope, but Jamie snorted derisively, and said, “Hard pass.”

“Suit yourself,” Eddie said with a shrug, and grasped Dani’s hand lightly. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

“If she doesn’t want to fucking play — “

“It’s fine,” Dani said quickly before another petty fight could spark between the pair. Jamie lifted a withering eyebrow. Unmoved, Dani repeated, “It’s fine.”

To her relief, Jamie rolled her eyes and backed down. But even so, Eddie shoved his hands in his pockets, appearing sheepish. “Sorry,” he said to Dani, “Do - do you want to? You don’t have to.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Dani slowly nodded in an effort only to quell the strained tension in the air, and watched with a silent sigh of relief when they both softened. Eddie smiled broadly.

“What about you?” Dani asked Jamie, “Are you sure you don’t want to come along?”

Jamie gave her a dry look in response. Chuckling, Dani nudged her. Jamie let herself rock back with an easy grin, using the movement to start easing away out of the kitchen.

“If anyone asks,” Jamie said, “You didn’t see me.”

And with that, she was gone, disappearing around the corner. Still staring at the kitchen entrance, there was a burgeoning rupture of disappointment in Dani’s chest when Eddie’s hand wrapped fully around hers, clasping her palm. She blinked up at his pleased smile, and swallowed it down, flickering a faint grin at him.

Without a word, he guided her gently from the kitchen to the living room where in a small sea of dancing and conversing teenagers, was a small group surrounding the coffee table on the floor and couches. Visibly flushed and tipsy with bright eyes and broad smiles, they giggled to each other, some leaning heavily on others as they lounged together with drinks in hand. And with good reason, for in the middle of the coffee table lay an empty wine bottle, rotating slowly on it’s side as one of Dani’s classmates absentmindedly spun it around while talking to a friend. Dani froze, sucking in a sharp breath, her hand clenching around Eddie’s palm.

Tugged to a stop, Eddie turned to her, his brows knitting with faint concern. “Hey,” he said softly, almost imperceptible under the noise of music and chatter. He leaned closer to be heard. “You okay?”

When Dani only blinked at him in response, Eddie shrunk slightly, managing to look both abashed and disappointed in equal measure. “We don’t have to play if you don’t want to. It’s okay. I just thought it’d be fun.”

Dani stared at him. There was no fun to be had in leaving fate up to chance on kissing random people she rarely spoke to outside of school, much less in public view of everyone else. As far as she was concerned, it was no business of anyone but her own who she kissed. Even the very notion of kissing alone sent her stomach twisting into knots and she had to swallow down the panic creeping up her throat.

And as though sensing blood in the water, her classmates spotted her and cheered, calling her over to play. Glancing at the commotion behind him, Eddie shot Dani an amused grin, shrugging helplessly. “Whoops,” he said, chuckling.

Distantly, Dani imagined Jamie taking one look at her face and grasping her hand, pulling her away to a secluded corner all to themselves. When the calling became more insistent, her heart racing under the expectant stares of her classmates, she flickered Eddie a weak smile and gave an acquiescent nod. “It’s fine,” she murmured.

With a pleased smile, Eddie squeezed her hand and pulled her towards an open space to sit. She took one last glance behind her, scanning the crowded room for Jamie, finding her nowhere. Her stomach sinking, she sat carefully and primly to the carpeted floor.

“Eddie, sit over here,” said one girl, Nina, patting the space beside her with a teasing grin. “It’s not as fun if you’re both sitting together.”

Huffing out a shy laugh, Eddie shot Dani another grin, and moved to sit next Nina and another classmate, his cheeks tinted pink. Dani exhaled slowly, tugging the hem of her dress to sit demurely against her legs, refraining from clenching her fists around the fabric. When a figure slipped beside her on the carpet, she blinked in surprise to find Roger grinning at her.

“Hey,” he said, “Surprised to find you here.”

Dani shrugged, and said, “Me too, honestly.”

He chuckled, and craned his head to scan the room. “Have you seen Jamie anywhere?” He said, “Can’t find her.”

“No,” Dani lied, shaking her head.

Sinking back to the floor, he rested back against the couch behind them with a sigh, visibly disappointed. “Too bad, then,” he murmured.

Dani tilted her head to the side with a curious frown, watching him pick at a thread from his jeans as he slowly looked around the room. But before Dani could even think of what to say, the game began, the bottle spun on the table to the sound of cheers. Dani held her breath, watching it spin and spin almost hypnotically. She almost didn’t register the bottle coming to a stop as the group teased and wolf whistled, a blushing pair leaning over the table to give each other a chaste kiss. Dani felt her cheeks warm, her eyes darting back to the table.

It was decided that turns would be taken in a clockwise fashion. Dani was careful to notice how she was near the last to go, and that Eddie was to spin in another four turns. Quietly overwrought, her stomach clenched in anticipation with every spin of the bottle, a whispered prayer behind her teeth to be spared. She watched with balled fists in her lap kiss after kiss. Chuckling faintly when Roger leaned forward to peck a girl on the mouth, blushing to his hairline and glancing furtively around the room. Sitting frozen with her heart in her throat and her eyes wide when one girl landed on another, the pair giggling madly as they pressed kisses to each other’s cheeks to the sounds of the others groaning in disappointment. And on it went, until Eddie leaned forward.

Where he had once been laughing breathlessly, his expression was now set in a determined, anxious frown. His hand on the bottle, he shot Dani a quick grin and spun it. Dani’s heart was crashing against her ribs. She stared at the bottle. Spinning and spinning. And then it slowed, wobbling to a stop, pointing directly at Dani. She sucked in a sharp breath.

The group hooted and cheered around her, but Dani could barely hear it. The sound muffled as though she were underwater. Her breath trapped in her chest, Dani slowly looked up and met Eddie’s gaze, looking at her with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, as though he hadn’t been truly expecting this outcome at all for all he had hoped.

What was it Eddie had said? Inevitable.

A smile slowly bloomed across his face, broad and shy, and he rose to his knees. Dani swallowed thickly, and followed suit. She was vaguely aware of the carpet texture rough on her knees and her fingers trembling on the cup of water she still held in her hand. Eddie gave her a soft reassuring smile as he leaned close.

“Ignore them,” he murmured, his eyes tracing down to her mouth, his glasses flaring with light from a nearby lamp.

Dani nodded faintly, unable to hear anything more than the rush of blood in her ears. Without responding, without any fanfare, Dani leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his. His lips were unexpectedly soft and warm, and he made a small sound of surprise. She pulled away, and just like that it was over. She scooted back to her spot on the carpet, her jaw clenched, a lurching twist of her stomach that she almost felt sick with it.

The group cheered around them, and Eddie stared at her, utterly dazed. He was pulled back by Kyle, jostling his shoulders until Eddie laughed, pushing up his glasses with a wide smile, his eyes unmoving from Dani. She sat frozen, only managing to return a small, weak grin. A flicker, and then it was gone.

Beside her, Roger nudged her arm and leaned close, a teasing glint in his eyes as he said, “You look like you could use another drink.”

She blinked at him for a moment, and then nodded. “Yeah,” she breathed, glancing down at her cup of water, “You might be right.”

Roger chuckled and helped her stand, letting her lean a hand against his shoulder as she rose to her feet. Across the table, Eddie shot her a questioning look. She pointed at her cup before jerking her thumb towards the kitchen. When he nodded, before he could say anything else, Dani turned and started towards the hallway, almost unseeing as she slipped past groups of people. But when she reached the kitchen, she stumbled to a stop, gripping the countertop to balance her weight, her cheeks warm and tingling.

With a slow exhale, she downed the rest of her water and chucked the cup into a garbage bin. When it slammed shut, a cool breeze caressed her skin, spreading goosebumps all over her, and she looked towards the back door standing wide open. There was faint firelight in the distance, and like a lighthouse beacon, she was drawn to it. There were a few people outside, smoking on the porch and lingering near a makeshift homemade fire pit made with bricks situated near the far end of the backyard. A familiar figure was sitting before it, outlined in an orange glow. Dani wandered down the porch steps and stepped closer, the tension from her shoulders easing, her breath coming back to her when Jamie looked up and caught her eyes.

She was sitting on a low pile of bricks, elbows on her knees, a piece of wood dangling from her fingertips. The corner of Jamie’s mouth curled into a small smile, and she jerked her head towards the free space next to her, patting the bricks gently. Dani happily sat beside her, careful to arrange her dress in the low seat, her shoulder and hip pressed against Jamie who chuckled softly.

In lieu of saying hello, Jamie tossed the stick into the fire and dug out a rumpled pack of smokes from her pocket, plucking out a cigarette and chrome Zippo lighter that reflected gold and orange in the crackling firelight. A flick and snap, Jamie placed the filter between her lips and lit the cigarette with practiced ease. She took a long drag and expelled the smoke in a long stream in the night air before shooting Dani a grin.

"Have fun?"

Dani hummed wordlessly, watching embers rise from the fire as the wood popped and crackled. Instead of answering she said, "Roger was asking after you."

Taking a drag of her cigarette, Jamie rolled her eyes. "Christ," she muttered in a plume of smoke. "Never gives it a rest."

Dani went very still. She stared at the side of Jamie's face, firelight flickering across her skin and glittering in her eyes. "Does he - like you?"

It had never occurred to Dani before that someone might like Jamie. That she might like them in return. That she might be involved with other people. Jamie had never shown as much as a passing interest in dating. The very notion made Dani's stomach tie itself into knots.

Jamie gave a short huff of laughter. "Break a boy's nose once and suddenly he's mad for you,” she said, “Turned him down ages ago, but he keeps trying his luck. Doesn't seem to get it through that thick skull of his."

"Oh." Dani glanced away and wrung her fingers in her lap, trying to hide the motion in the folds of her dress. "Is it because there's someone else?"

She'd asked the question when Jamie was flicking ash from the tip of her cigarette onto a lone brick beside her. Jamie's hand froze in the act, a stuttered moment of hesitation, before she lifted it to her mouth once more.

"So," Jamie said, her cheeks sinking inward, the cigarette embers glowing bright red. "You and Ed, huh?"

She very pointedly didn’t answer Dani’s question. The kiss was at the fore of Dani's mind — Eddie’s dazed expression, cheers that seemed to echo distantly in her ears — but all she could think of now was how vividly red Jamie's mouth had been painted, and how it left a mark on the cigarette.

Finally Dani replied, "You could've played, too, if you're that interested to know. I did ask."

Jamie snorted and flicked ash from the end of the cigarette again. "Why? So I could kiss a boy who's never heard of the invention of chapstick? No, thank you."

Dani was quiet, shifting on the bricks that were cold and hard beneath her, shivering in the cool night breeze, and tried not to think about how soft Eddie’s lips were, tried to bite back the confession with her molars until her jaw ached. Instead, before Jamie could put the cigarette back between her lips, Dani plucked it from her fingers and took a tentative pull. It burned her lungs. She blew it out with a light cough, a plume of smoke drifting into the sky as Jamie huffed softly.

“Where do you even get these?” Dani asked, coughing again before taking another pull with a slight wince.

“You would not believe how easy it is to blackmail Tommy and David,” Jamie said with a dark grin, staring at her, flicking the Zippo lighter open and closed absently.

Dani huffed out a soft laugh, smoke billowing from her pursed lips and passed the cigarette back to Jamie. “You should quit,” she said, welcoming the warmth of Jamie’s skin as their fingers grazed, “It’s not good for you.”

Jamie only shrugged, her brows knitted as she stared at the cigarette and flicked off the ashes, her jaw taut as her thumb grazed over the stained filter. Dani watched in abject fascination as Jamie placed it between her lips and took a long drag, her cheeks sunken, her eyes shut as though she were savoring it, and slowly expelled the smoke through her nose. Without a word, Jamie tossed the rest of the cigarette into the fire pit where it disappeared into crackling wood.

A cool breeze blew through them, whipping the fire and embers into a flickering dance and then settled, stronger than before. Dani shivered, rubbing her forearms and wrapping them around her stomach.

“Cold?” When Dani nodded, Jamie let out a soft chuckle, and murmured, “Always bloody cold. C’mere then.”

Before Dani could get a word in edgewise, Jamie was already slipping out of her flannel and draping it over Dani’s shoulders. “But - Jamie, I’m - “

“Shut it, and get in,” Jamie said, linking their arms and tugging Dani closer.

Dani chuckled breathlessly when they bumped into each other and curled closer into Jamie’s body warmth. After a moment of consideration, she let her hand graze down the skin of Jamie’s forearm to grasp her hand, tangling their fingers together and resting them on Dani’s lap. Jamie went still for a long moment and slowly relaxed, breathing softly in the cool night air. The sound was soothing along with the crackling bonfire, easier to sit in and breathe compared to the booming music and constant chatter Dani could still hear muffled from inside the house.

Resting her head against Jamie’s shoulder, she quietly fiddled with the watch and scrunchie on Jamie’s wrist. The facing of the watch was cool under her touch as she circled it with her thumb before drifting down to the scrunchie, picking at the edges of it. She smiled softly, and drew in a deep breath to sigh, smelling woodsmoke and something different, something new.

She raised her head with a frown. “You smell...different.”

"Like sandalwood, yeah? Least, that’s what the cologne bottle said,” Jamie said, “Nicked it from Carson's closet."

"You shouldn't steal from Carson."

"What? He wasn't using it. Was still in its box and everything."

Dani pressed her mouth together, but took another moment to breathe it in. A woodsy smell, like rich earth. Surprisingly pleasant and comforting, and wholly fitting for Jamie. “It smells nice,” Dani admitted with a murmur, “But you should still at least ask Carson next time.”

Rolling her eyes, Jamie nodded and sighed, her knee jumping and her hand twitching in Dani’s lap. Dani glanced down, running a soothing thumb in the valley between Jamie’s knuckles as the pads of her fingers grazed Dani’s knee. The clicking of the lighter was back. Open and closed, again and again in a restless rhythm. Peeking at Jamie’s profile outlined in warm light, she found her staring intensely at the fire, unblinking. With a shake of her head and an impish grin, Dani snatched the lighter from her hand.

“Oi!” Jamie said indignantly, her now empty hand hanging uselessly in the air.

“This is mine now,” Dani said, holding up the lighter triumphantly. “No more smoking for you.”

Jamie made a grab for it, but Dani pulled away, laughing brightly. They tussled there on the bricks, Jamie reaching and Dani pulling away until they were nearly toppling off onto the grass.

“We’re going to fall,” Dani said, laughing and shoving Jamie, “Move!”

“Wouldn’t if you’d just give it back, you prat,” Jamie grunted, stretching an arm behind Dani where she held out the lighter.

Dani elbowed her in the ribs and Jamie jerked back with a pained grunt, “Fuck.”

“Shit. Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Dani said, wincing apologetically, taking Jamie’s arm that hovered over her shoulders and wrapped it snuggly around her as though that would ease the pain.

“Got a mean elbow, Poppins,” Jamie murmured, rubbing at her ribs with her free hand, but couldn’t hold back a soft laugh.

“I’m sorry,” Dani said again, grasping Jamie’s hand that was slung around her shoulders, linking their fingers again, shaking it for good measure as she chuckled softly. “I won't do it again.”

“Beginning to think you’re the bane of my existence.”

“I promise to go easy on you from now on,” Dani said dryly, and huddled closer, “Now hush, and keep me warm.”

Jamie chuckled lowly and murmured, “Bossy.”

"You like it."

When Jamie arched an eyebrow, Dani grinned impishly and ducked her head to hide it, resting again on Jamie’s shoulder. They fell quiet again, watching the fire. It continued to crackle and burn away to the sounds from the house and the whisper of the wind in the trees. Jamie’s arm was warm around her, a steady weight that she could’ve drifted off to sleep under if it weren’t for the fact that Dani was surrounded by the scent of sandalwood. Both comforting and heady, like sitting in the tallgrass at sunset, the song of katydids in the summer air. Or lying on a picnic blanket in the green and bright blooms of Jamie’s backyard. Breathing it in, her eyes almost slipped shut when Jamie spoke again.

“You know why they call it a bonfire?”

“No,” Dani murmured, “Why?”

“In the old country, in the old times, when the days started getting shorter and the nights longer, they used to build giant bonfires,” Jamie said. Dani slowly lifted her head to stare at her profile. “They’d talk about the people they’ve lost. Toss in offerings to drive away evil spirits,” she continued, and gave Dani a sidelong grin, “Things like bones.”

A soft smile gradually grew on Dani’s face, seeing where this was going but was loath to interrupt as Jamie continued with her story, enchanted with her voice, soft and low as though she didn’t want to disturb the quiet bubble that seemed to encompass them from the rest of the world. It was as though Jamie was casting a spell where Dani couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop her eyes drifting over Jamie’s features. The firelight dancing in her eyes, her slim nose, down to her mouth. The scar there was painted over with red, but Dani could still see the outline of it in the light, a thin groove that descended down her chin. Dani gripped Jamie’s flannel with her free hand and tugged it closer around her, smothering down the urge to reach up and run her thumb over the length of it.

“So, you got any old bones you want to throw?” Jamie finished, turning back to Dani and abruptly went still.

Blinking out of a daze, Dani looked up to find Jamie staring at her. “Not really,” Dani murmured, watching as Jamie's expression gradually became carefully blank and unreadable, “Can’t think of anything.”

She was close enough to count the freckles along Jamie’s cheeks, to feel Jamie breathe against her, ribs expanding and shrinking abnormally slow, and Dani found herself inching nearer, wanting to sink right into it. To breathe in sandalwood again and feel Jamie’s soft breaths against her lips. Her eyes flickered down again, following the path of her scar, captivated at the sharp lines of Jamie’s jaw going taut. She looked back up, and met eyes dark as a storming sea. Pupils black and piercing right into her, unblinking and unmoving. Dani swallowed hard, her head feeling thick and hazy.

It was hard to look away, the force of Jamie’s stare was indivisible, but like a moth to a flame, Dani was drawn back to Jamie’s mouth, to Jamie’s scar. Her own mouth suddenly dry, Dani licked her lips and watched Jamie’s nose flare and her mouth drop open slightly at the movement. Dani leaned closer, her forehead pressing against Jamie’s, her skin warm to the touch. Jamie sucked in a sharp breath, utterly still, and Dani eased closer, her eyes slipping shut, her breath shallow as their noses grazed, Jamie’s breath hot on her lips —

The back door banged against the house, and Dani jerked her head back, startled at the sound. She twisted her head to see the commotion, laughter coming from the group on the porch. Dani froze, her breath caught in her chest. It was unlike her to be caught so unawares, to let her hard-fought defenses crumble to her feet and forget her surroundings. But Jamie was warm, and Jamie was safe. And casting her panicked eyes around now, no one in the backyard so much as looked their way, lost in their own drunken world to care about anyone else for once.

The hand that was still tangled in Dani’s tightened in a gentle reassuring pressure and with her heart pounding against her chest, Dani turned to see Jamie still staring at her, vivid and intense, pinning her to the spot. Dani opened her mouth to say something, to say anything, but she choked on the words, her throat lodged.

“Hey, there you are.”

Jerking again, Dani snapped her head to the sound and found Roger ambling towards them with a friendly grin.

“Roger,” Dani croaked, and cleared her throat, her mouth flickering into a weak smile, “Hey. Sorry, I - Did I miss the rest of the game?”

He nodded and shrugged. “Yeah, but it ended almost as soon as you left so it’s no big deal,” he said, and jerked his thumb behind him towards the house, “Eddie’s been looking for you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, said something about wanting to try his hand at our pool table in the basement,” Roger said, “Hey, Jamie, did you want to — “ He paused, hesitant with a furrowed brow, “ — Sorry, uh. Did I interrupt something?”

A low growl came deep within Jamie’s chest and Dani placed her hand on her knee to placate her. “It’s fine,” Dani said, her voice high even to her own ears, “We were just talking.”

Roger nodded slowly, his eyes tracking the movement of Dani’s hand and then darted between them, his cheeks darkening. “Oh - yeah. I see,” he said, and cleared his throat, digging his hands in his pockets and giving them an awkward but soft grin, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Dani repeated.

But Roger was already stepping backwards towards the house. “I’ll fetch Eddie for you,” he said, “Sorry again.”

Dani blinked after him, watching him disappear inside the house and exhaled slowly, her shoulders slumping. She leaned back into Jamie, abruptly tired, and looked back almost expecting to find that same soul-pinning gaze, but was instead greeted with Jamie looking at her with soft concern.

“All right?” Jamie murmured, her voice low.

Taking a moment to just breathe silently, listening to her heart settle, Dani nodded and eased back in, knocking their foreheads together again. “I think - um,” Dani started with a murmur, eyes slipping shut, “I think I’m a little drunk.” Jamie chuckled softly, but didn’t respond. “I don’t think I like it.”

“Color me surprised,” Jamie replied softly, running a soothing thumb over her knuckles. “Think it’s time Ed got you home.”

“I don’t want to go home,” Dani mumbled, “I want to stay."

With you , she didn’t say. In an effort to not think about why that was, Dani pulled back to give Jamie a considering look. “You got here with Nan’s truck, right?”

“I did,” Jamie said, frowning curiously, “Why?”

“Do you want to go somewhere?”

Jamie blinked. “Go where?”

“I don’t know,” Dani said, shrugging helplessly, “We could drive to the coast and see the Atlantic ocean finally like we’ve always wanted to.”

Jamie huffed out a soft laugh, affection blooming in her eyes. More familiar and soothing than whatever hungry thing had been lurking behind Jamie’s eyes moments ago.

“I think,” Jamie started slowly, “That it’s time for you to go home.”

Disappointment sinking heavy as stones in her stomach, Dani said. “I could go home with you instead.”

Something flashed in Jamie’s eyes but it vanished with a shake of her head. “And risk Nan seeing the state I let you get yourself in? She’ll scalp me right there and then.”

A soft laugh burst out of Dani and she rolled her eyes. “She wouldn’t.”

“She would.”

“Then come to my place then.”

“Dani — “

“Jamie.”

Dani grinned sheepishly when Jamie gave her a sharp look, more amused than anything. Jamie sighed again, shaking her head and then rose to her feet, holding a hand out to Dani. “All right, come on, then.”

With a broad smile, Dani took her hand and let Jamie pull her to her feet and grasp her elbow when Dani almost teetered off balance when the world swayed just a bit. Dani groaned and leaned into Jamie, pressing her face against her shoulder until the spinning stopped.

“God, this sucks,” Dani said, muffed against the fabric of Jamie’s t-shirt, feeling Jamie run a soothing hand down her back.

Jamie snorted. “Welcome to the club, Poppins.”

“Please don’t ever let me do that again,” Dani said, gradually leaning away and letting Jamie guide her towards the porch.

“Reckon you’ll manage just fine yourself after waking up with a splitting headache, but I’ll keep an eye out just in case.”

Just as Jamie pulled her inside, Eddie stepped into the kitchen and slowed at the sight of them. “Oh, there you are.”

Jamie pressed a hand on Dani back and eased her towards Eddie. “Home. Now,” Jamie said in a dark tone the brooked no room for argument.

Eddie’s eyes widened and he nodded, his mouth flickering into a weak smile. “Sure, yeah. No problem.”

When Eddie grasped her hand, Dani looked over her shoulder to give Jamie a forlorn look.

“You get on home,” Jamie said, visibly softening, “I’ll call in about half to check in and let you know I’m home, all right?”

Slowly, Dani nodded, unhappy with the end results, but reassured anyway. Slipping off Jamie’s flannel, she handed it back to Jamie, watching her throat bob and her eyes flicker with that dark look before smoothing over with another reassuring grin.

“Come on,” Eddie said, tugging gently on Dani’s hand and she let herself be pulled along, “Before she actually kills me.”

“Look at you, Ed,” Jamie said, “An old dog can learn new tricks.”

Jamie smirked when Eddie shot her a dirty look, but Dani laughed softly. “You two...are dumb.”

They turned to look at her in unison, and both visibly softened. Dani blinked and swallowed thickly, unmoored under the attention, her eyes darting between them. Curly dark hair and fond smiles, it was disconcerting how sibling-like they appeared just then.

“Can we go now?” Dani mumbled.

Jamie smacked Eddie’s arm, “What’re doin’ just standing there, you git?”

Rolling his eyes, Eddie gently pulled Dani away. She sent Jamie another forlorn wave that she chuckled softly at before Dani disappeared around the corner down the hall.

The walk home was as quiet as the one they took earlier that evening, Eddie’s hand warm in hers, keeping a steady grip. They were larger than Jamie’s, but just as rough from years of handling baseball bats and tennis racquets.

“So, I’m thinking,” Eddie said, broaching the quiet.

“Yeah?” Dani said absently, still holding Jamie’s lighter, running her thumb over the chrome plating repeatedly.

“We should get married.”

Dani jerked to a stop with wide eyes. “What?”

“Oh, come on,” Eddie said, grinning broadly, “You don’t remember?”

It came to her at once. The memory of daring Eddie to kiss her. Of Eddie returning days later, asking her to marry him. Dani’s heart pounded in her ears, her stomach lurching and her knuckles turning white around the lighter. “Are you serious.”

“Yeah, was thinking we could head down to City Hall,” Eddie said, an impish glint in his eyes, “Got money saved up and everything. Get Jamie to scrounge up some flowers for your bouquet.”

Dani stared at him for a long moment, dread creeping over her and she couldn’t place why the idea of it felt so wrong. Not with the memory of the ghost of Jamie’s breath on her lips. Not with the smell of sandalwood still lingering on her skin. She felt dizzy and exhausted, unable to fight off her cheeks heating up and the alcohol burning hot in her veins. Wanting nothing more than to collapse into her bed and not move for days and to not think why she’d rather be holding Jamie’s hand right now.

“And have to deal with my mom afterwards?” she said with a glower, watching his face blanch. Rolling her eyes for good measure, she dragged him down the street, listening to him sputter behind her. “It’s your funeral, Eddie.”

The party might well never have happened for how little they spoke of it. A passing dream. A faded image. An old cenotaph worn away by rain and well-loved fingers. Except Eddie kept putting his arm around Dani’s shoulders at every opportunity. When they sat in the car. When they ate lunch side by side. When they were squeezed together on the couch in the basement watching movies with Carson.

The nights were still cold, so she did not mind much. Eddie was always warm. More times than she could count, she’d stolen one of his sweaters and worn it around the house in the winter months, sleeves long and trailing to the edge of her fingertips, hiding her hands in a way she found comforting. He never put his arm around her when Jamie was around, however. Somehow that was a deterrent in and of itself.

Days like today, Eddie and the other boys were all off to Des Moines with Mike to see a Iowa Oaks game. Carson had been dragged away with much grumbling, insisting that he’d rather remain behind, only for Tommy and David to grab him bodily by the shoulders, stuff a baseball cap on his head, and drag him out to the car, laughing as they went. Carson had splayed out a hand against the rear window of the car, making plaintive expressions at Dani and Jamie through the glass and mouthing the words, ‘Remember me!’ until they laughed and waved him off from the mouth of the garage.

Which left them alone in an eerily quiet O’Mara house. ‘Girls nights’ Judy called them. Time at home with just her and Dani and Jamie. Sometimes Nan. Rarely Karen.

Glancing over her shoulder towards the garage door leading inside the house, Jamie reached into a pocket of her jacket and pulled out a crumpled packet of cigarettes. “Think she’ll notice if I pop round the side of the house for a quick smoke?”

“I can distract her, if you want,” Dani offered.

Jamie stuck a cigarette between her teeth and smiled around it. “Don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

When Jamie started off around the house to duck behind a fence-like shrubbery, Dani stayed rooted in place for a moment. Then she followed. By the time she rounded the corner, Jamie was already slouching against the weatherboards and flicking a flame to life with the edge of her thumb against a cheap plastic lighter she had begrudgingly bought after Dani refused to return her Zippo. The hedge narrowed the grass and gravel passageway down this side of the house until there was barely enough space to stand two abreast. Still, Dani stood before Jamie rather than lean against the wall beside her, so that the toes of their shoes bracketed one another – black and white sneakers like a checkerboard for chess pieces.

Jamie’s cheeks sank inwards, and she lifted the cigarette away to blow a thin stem of smoke to the side, away from Dani. In the light of the day and the shadow of the eaves, Jamie’s eyes did not appear as dark. She wasn’t wearing red lipstick today. Not like last weekend. Dani found her gaze drawn to the purse of her lips at the cigarette anyway. The corner of Jamie’s mouth quirked in a smile, and Dani’s eyes jerked up, realising she’d been caught staring.

Reaching out, Dani gently took the cigarette from Jamie’s mouth between two fingers of her own. The smirk vanished and Jamie watched her movements with an expression veiled in tendrils of smoke like vines. They stood close enough that Dani could count the links in the chain necklace disappearing beneath the collar of Jamie’s shirt. She had to resist the urge to pull the slink of silvery chain free, twine it between her fingers and hold it there, a steady pressure at the back of Jamie’s neck.

Dani was wearing one of Eddie’s sweaters to ward off the chill. She had to push back the long sleeve in order to lift the cigarette to her own lips for a brief drag. Her lungs burned. Against her better judgement, she held the smoke there until it felt like she was drowning in the wreckage of a house fire.

“Are you staying the night?” Dani asked. She expelled the smoke in one long rush, coughing slightly at the end.

Jamie shrugged. “Thought I might. Depends.”

“Does Nan need help back home?”

In answer Jamie made an uncertain noise and took back the cigarette, their fingers brushing together. “She’s been leaning on me a lot more lately,” she said. “Annoying as all hell, really. But she hasn’t been looking so great either.”

“I mean, if you want to then of course you can go back tonight.”

Jamie thought on it for a moment before waving a dismissive hand. “Nah,” she flicked ash from the tip of her cigarette and lifted it back to her mouth. “The old bag will be fine for one night without me.”

“If you’re smoking back there,” said Judy’s voice from the backyard, sounding stern, “Then I want you two to know: you’re not being sneaky.”

Immediately they froze. Jamie dropped the cigarette to the ground and Dani ground it into the gravel with her shoe, while Jamie exhaled a plume of smoke into the air.

“We’re not!” Jamie called out.

“Well, whatever it is you’re doing, it can’t be decent. Otherwise, you’d do it out in the open,” Judy’s voice drawled, coming into view down the other end of the house. She had her hand up to her eyes as though she’d just walked into one of her sons in the bathroom. “Is it safe?”

Dani’s cheeks burned. Beside her Jamie made a small choked noise. “We’re -! We’re just talking!” Dani said.

Judy parted her fingers so she could peer through at them, then lowered her arm. “If you say so. I’m making sandwiches. You two want some?”

“Sounds good,” croaked Jamie.

Judy left, and Dani found herself biting her lip and avoiding Jamie’s eye. Jamie had her hands shoved into the pockets of her bulky jacket and was kicking at a loose stone.

“We should –” Dani started to say at exactly the same time Jamie said, “I’m starving –”

They stopped and Dani laughed breathlessly, catching only a glimpse of Jamie’s smile when she looked up.

“Yeah, I’m pretty hungry,” Dani agreed, while Jamie simply nodded.

Jamie gestured, hand still stuck in her pocket so that the whole jacket moved with her. “You first.”

“Right. Okay.”

Tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear that had escaped from her headband, Dani inched away until they could walk single file and not bump into one another. She had so many memories of the two of them – of herself and Jamie, of herself and Eddie, or even herself and Carson – wedged together, shoulder to shoulder, down this narrow aisle between house and hedge, as though squeezing through an artery.

Now Dani walked as though at the head of a procession, making her way towards the green expanse of the back lawn in the distance. There was no sound of footfalls behind her, no crunch of gravel underfoot. Dani walked, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that if she looked back, Jamie would be gone.

Dani heard the phone ringing from her room. She was sitting on her bed, the sheets a sprawl of notes from class, a book propped open on one knee and a pad of paper on the other. Her head perked up when she heard the ringing, her hand going still so that the tip of her pencil hovered over the last word she had written.

The phone rang exactly twice, then was picked up. Dani could hear her mother’s muttered greeting downstairs. She glanced up towards the door to her room. Shut but not locked. Karen had removed the lock to Dani’s room when she was thirteen. Dani could barely even remember what privacy was like anymore; perhaps they’d always been strangers.

Carefully setting aside her book and notepad, marking her place by folding her pencil between the pages, Dani slipped from the bed and padded across the room on socked feet. She twisted the knob slowly and peeled open the door just enough so she could slip through the gap. A quick check, holding her breath and peering down the hall, and Dani approached the stairs on that old familiar path of floorboards, studiously avoiding the ones that creaked or groaned. She lowered herself down upon the second highest step, propped her chin atop her knees, and listened.

The television laughed softly in the living room below, an audience track like static on repeat. Her mother sighed. There was the clink of glass against tile.

“Jesus,” her mother said, voice a familiar mumble around the cylinder of a cigarette. “When?”

A pause as someone spoke on the other side of the line.

“And they think it was a -? Ah. I see. Thank you. I’d appreciate that. No, that’s all right. I’ll handle it. Yeah. You, too. Bye.”

Dani frowned when she heard the click of the plastic receiver being placed back on its cradle. She could feel her lungs tickle from the drift of smoke rising up through the air. Pushing herself to her feet, she made her way down the stairs, adding an extra step along the way just in case her mother was counting. When Dani entered the kitchen, her mother was stabbing out a cigarette with nervous little jumps of her fingers. The ashtray was littered with filters from just that day.

“Just getting some water,” Dani mumbled in passing as she shuffled towards the sink.

Her mother made no comment, though Dani could feel eyes boring a hole in her spine like a twin set of awls. And then out of the blue she said, “Judy rang. Though, I guess you knew that already.”

Dani paused, hand holding open a cupboard door as she pulled down a glass. “I didn’t,” she said truthfully. Though she had suspected. Catching the tail end of the conversation left little in the way of clues.

Karen hummed a disbelieving note behind her. Dani very carefully kept her attention fixed on the act of filling her glass.

“She said she's picked up those rolls of film you were having developed from the pharmacy this afternoon,” said her mother. “And Ruth Heron died.”

Dani was nodding, then she went very still. The glass continued to fill until the water flowed over and she had to wrench the tap shut. Setting the glass into the sink, she turned slowly, eyes wide, to stare at her mother across the kitchen.

“What?” Dani said numbly.

“The pharmacy,” her mother repeated, digging out another cigarette from a pack on the dining table. “They’d finished with all those pictures you like to take.”

“No, I - The other - Ruth died? When?”

With a shrug, Karen flicked a flame to life with her thumb at the edge of a lighter and held it to the end of her cigarette. “Today. Or maybe yesterday. I don’t know. The funeral’s on Friday.”

That couldn’t be right. Dani had just seen Jamie earlier that very day. They had parted ways after school. Jamie had been smiling and joking with Carson, while Eddie trailed behind them with his nose buried in a book.

“I don’t think I’ll go,” her mother continued, breathing out smoke through her nostrils and shaking her head. “Bad memories. Bad everything. Barely kept it together at the last one. Well - you remember. Surely.”

She did. Dani could remember the last funeral she had attended all too clearly. The long walk down the aisle towards an altar-like casket draped in flowers and silver. Dani shaking her head, refusing to budge. Her mother’s grip painful on her shoulder, but her voice a bare tremble, like a piece of glass on the verge of shattering. And a man in an ashen suit with somber black eyes, hands clasped in a sort of passive mannerliness. The coroner. The coroner, who had walked her down the aisle towards her father’s powdered corpse with a courtly offer of his arm.

“Will you?”

Dani jerked. Blinking furiously, she shook her head. “Sorry. What?”

Karen was watching her and tapping the lighter lightly against the tabletop. “Will you go to the funeral?”

Dani’s mouth worked, her throat dry. “Yes,” she said finally. “Yes, of course I’m going.”

“Judy can take you. She said she was taking the boys. Said she’d take you, too, if you wanted.”

Karen didn’t say anything more. She took another long drag of her cigarette, the end glowing with embers that she flickered off into the ashtray, blowing out a plume of smoke. Dani watched her in a wide eyed daze, her breath shallow. Watched her mother place the cigarette back between her lips and pick the phone receiver back up to place against her ear.

“There’s nothing in the fridge and I’m too tired to do anything in this kitchen tonight,” Karen said, already dialing a number, “Do you want chinese for dinner?”

Dani pushed away from the sink, voice faint as she spoke, as faint as she felt. “I need to go,” she said, wiping her hand dry on her jeans and stumbling out of the kitchen. “I need to - I need to - ”

“Is that a yes, or not? I need to know,” her mother called after her. “Danielle, where are you -? Danielle.”

Karen’s voice continued speaking, but Dani was hardly listening anymore. Somehow her feet had walked her into the other room and out the front door. Barefoot and hands clenched tightly by her sides, she marched straight across the street to the O’Mara’s house, shoving open the door without knocking or preamble into an eerily quiet house. The silence of it made her pause, swallowing hard. But then her feet were moving again, taking her down the hallway and into the kitchen to find both Mike and Judy murmuring quietly to each other, the pair studiously piling food in tupperware.

At the sound of her entrance, heavy breathing and feet on cold tile, they both turned and blinked in surprise.

“Is it - “ Dani choked out, eyes darting between them. “Is it true?”

“Danielle, honey. What -?“ Judy said, a hand pressed to her chest, confusion and surprise written all over her face. “What are you doing here? We thought you were with - “

Dani stared unblinking. When she didn’t respond, Judy and Mike shared a worried glance. “God,” Judy breathed, “She’s been alone all day. I knew we should’ve called the hospital - “

“We didn’t know which one she was taken to,” Mike said, placing a reassuring hand on Judy’s shoulder.

“Then we should have called all of them.”

“They wouldn’t have told us anything anyways, sweetheart,” Mike said, softer than Dani’s ever heard him, “We’re not family.”

“She’s as good as,” Judy said firmly, and sighed when Dani remained utterly still, rooted to the spot with her heart a claxon in her chest. She stepped towards Dani and engulfed her in a tight hug. “I’m so sorry, honey.“

Dani didn’t move. “I have to go,” she murmured, “I have to go find Jamie.”

“I know,” Judy said, pulling back to cup Dani’s face and give her a flickering smile. “I know. Mike, the food,” she added with a glance over her shoulder to Mike who jumped into action, fastening the tupperware with lids.

Dani was unseeing as they moved around and spoke to her in soft tones. Jamie found her after school. Jamie’s been at the hospital for hours. No one knows if she’s home yet. Dani was nodding along, not realizing she was doing so, as though seeing herself do it from afar. A call and response as she was handed tupperware to take with her.

“I’ll drive you,” Mike said.

“It’s fine,” Dani said.

“Honey - “ Judy started.

“I’ll be fine,” Dani said, drawing in a deep breath and giving them a frail smile. “Promise.”

Judy looked at her for a long moment and nodded. “Off you go, then,” Judy said softly, “Give her our love, please. And let us know she’s all right.”

Dani nodded again, and was guided out, stumbling back across the street and back through the front door of her house. The television was still blaring, a laugh track that bored into Dani’s ears like nails on a chalkboard. Shoving her feet into a pair of flats, she swallowed down a swell of indignation and was reaching blindly for the car keys hanging from their hook on the wall, and snatching up the wallet on the corner table beneath them, the gardenias there already wilting.

She had a destination, and she had a driver’s license. And that was enough.

The house stood quiet and still on the long stretch of bungalow cottages lining the street. Peeling white paint and exposed beams against the backdrop of a bright orange and red sunset dappled through sparse clouds. She shifted in her seat, unnerved to see the windows dark and blinds partially drawn, like dark eyes on a pale skull.

Dani’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel, the cabin utterly silent save for the slow sigh of relief at the sight of Nan’s ancient truck parked in front of the house. Dani swallowed heavily as her eyes lingered on the fading green paint, feeling a sharp pin prick in her chest. She pushed it aside, tucked it away, her eyes darting back to the house before stumbling out of her mother’s car with tupperware in hand.

Her feet felt heavy as she marched up the porch and knocked on the front door, her knuckles sharp against the wood. There was no answer. No sound of feet thudding against the floor to beckon Dani inside. She frowned and bit her lip, sparing another glance at the green truck behind her. Maybe Jamie had gone along in the ambulance and wasn’t home yet. Maybe she took a cab, unwilling or unable to carter Mikey along in the ambulance. She shook her head lightly, the heat from the tupperware warm against the skin of her palms, the late spring air utterly still.

She knocked again, and waited for a response. She peeked through windows and past the small gap the blinds granted her, finding nothing but furniture shadowed in a dark room. Dani straightened upright, shifting anxiously on her feet before rapping her knuckles on the window. She stood and waited, listening to the chirps of robins nearby.

“Jamie?” she called out, a burr in her voice. There was still no answer. Not even the sound of Mikey’s chatter or stumbling footsteps as he wandered through rooms with unabashed willfulness.

Uncertainty cast over her in the silence. She pressed her mouth together, a whorl of discomfort in her stomach, and stepped off the porch to round the house between the chain link fence and the white peeling boards. When she neared the corner, she craned her head to peer around it and stopped short. Struck with relief, Dani exhaled quietly to find Jamie sitting in the middle of the bloom and green of the garden on that old picnic blanket. Slouched, her back turned to Dani, unmoving and quiet.

She was watching the sunset, Dani noticed. The light casting her in warm tones, still dressed in the same clothes she’d worn to school. And in her lap, sleeping quietly against her shoulder and curled up right into her, was Mikey. Dani’s heart lurched as she neared them, and hesitantly repeated, her voice a whisper, “Jamie?”

If Jamie heard her, registered her presence at all, she made no effort to acknowledge it. A thickness was building in Dani’s throat, a deep ache spreading across her chest. She exhaled, fingers drumming restlessly on the tupperware she still held. Biting her lip, she moved quietly to rest the tupperware on the porch, eyes fixed upon Jamie, distantly aware of the unreasonable fear that if she looked away, Jamie might vanish.

She moved carefully, slipping off her flats to step on the blanket — a flannel pattern of green and blue, faded from years of use — and slowly sank down beside Jamie, finally getting a look at her face. She expected a scowl maybe. Perhaps tear tracks dried on skin and red eyes. Instead, Jamie was looking straight ahead, expression eerily blank and eyes just short of wide, barely blinking. Void of anything that might convey a sense of grief or loss, or anything at all. Dani’s breath caught in her chest, fists clenched in her lap, not knowing what to do.

Her eyes traced down to Mikey in her lap, curled up and clutching at Jamie’s gold medal against his chest. Dani blinked and looked away, pressing her eyes shut and biting her lip hard enough to hurt until the burning in her eyes eased and she could breathe properly again. Sighing softly, she turned back to Jamie who remained unmoving. Slowly, Dani reached up and let her fingers graze against the hunch of Jamie’s back.

Jamie jerked at the contact and Dani wrenched her hand away, eyes wide. Jamie blinked rapidly, as though waking up from a daze.

“Hi,” Dani whispered, loath to disturb the quiet and Mikey’s sleep.

Looking at her for a long moment, Jamie swallowed thickly. “Hey,” she whispered, her voice rough and faint, and looked down at Mikey in her arms. “Finally got him to sleep. Didn’t want to move.”

Dani nodded absently, scanning over Jamie carefully. The unkempt frizz of her hair that she itched to smooth down. The heavy droop of her eyelids. The stiff hunch of her back.

“When did you last eat?” Dani asked. Jamie shook her head in answer, and that was all Dani needed to know. “I brought food for you. From Judy’s.”

Having returned to watching the horizon bleed hues of red and pink and purple across the sky, Jamie nodded but didn’t say anything more, arms wrapped around Mikey and running a hand gently through his hair.

Dani exhaled at the unbearably thick silence. “Jamie, I’m - “ she started, a tremble in her voice, raising her hand again to place on Jamie’s back, gently smoothing over the ridges and dips of her spine through her t-shirt, “I’m so sorry.”

Jamie cleared her throat and twitched away from Dani’s hand. “I’m gonna go put him down,” Jamie muttered flatly, and carefully stood with Mikey in her arms.

Without another word, Jamie turned and started towards the backdoor. Mikey whined at the movement and mumbled something Dani couldn’t hear. “I know, love,” Jamie murmured as she disappeared into the darkness of the house.

Feeling overwrought and helpless, Dani stood, leaving the blanket where it was with the vague inkling that Jamie would be returning to it sometime soon and turned to follow Jamie into the house. She jerked to a stop, sucking in a sharp breath when her eyes landed on the trellis fence where Jamie grew her morning glories. Tucked away there in the corner, hidden beside the porch steps was a broken shovel snapped in half, and Jamie’s bike. Chain torn apart. Spokes broken and warped. A wheel bent nearly in half. The frame dented and scraped from a rain of blows. Four years of Jamie’s hard work and devotion, tossed in a tide of ripped and torn foliage.

Dani swallowed and eased closer, barefoot in the grass, slow and hesitant as though she were approaching a cavernous canyon. Her thumb drifted towards her mouth, biting at the nail and skin until it hurt, until the urge to cry was smothered. Drawing in a deep stuttering breath, Dani tucked her thumb away in her fist and entered the house with the tupperware in hand.

It was dark inside, but for the gleam of twilight diffused through windows and curtains. It seemed smaller in the dark, shrunken and exsanguinated. A weary creature laid to rest. Absent the noise Dani had grown used to hearing throughout the house. Jamie’s music muffled through the walls, and the kettle whistling for afternoon tea, and Nan’s sitcoms with the volume on low, and Mikey’s nonsensical chatter, and the constant bickering. Until all that was left was an eerie silence.

Dani stood in it for only a moment until it quickly became unbearable. She set the tupperware on the kitchen counter and flicked on the lights throughout the house. When she reached the living room to turn on the various lamps, she slowed to a pause. Nan’s weathered armchair sat by the couch. Maroon red and pristine. And lying next to it on the floor, a toppled saucer and cup in pieces, orbited by a dark tea stain already dried in the carpet. A lump appeared in Dani’s throat, her hands balled into her fists as she bent down to carefully gather the porcelain pieces, cold dregs of tea still remaining in what was left of the cup.

Dani returned to the kitchen to set the pieces on the counter, unsure of what to do, unwilling to toss Nan’s heirlooms from Scotland in the trash. There was a full pot of tea and another cup on the counter, untouched and gone cold. Hands trembling, Dani went about settling up the kettle to boil and drained the pot of its contents for another brew while waiting for Jamie to return to the kitchen.

It felt easier, keeping her hands busy. To focus on movement and precision, and not the deep ache in her chest. To rinse the cup and pot in the sink, and not think about Jamie’s proud smile when Nan had given her nod of approval after fixing the kitchen table’s wobble. She wondered distantly, exhaling slowly, shakily, as she set the table for dinner, if this is what Nan meant all along. Keeping one’s hands busy.

Jamie still hadn’t returned when Dani was finished. Not even when the kettle’s whistle reared to blow seconds before Dani pulled it from the burning red coil. Tea steeping in the pot, she hesitated at the stove, worrying at her lower lip before finally slipping out of the kitchen down the narrow hallway. She neared Nan’s bedroom, seeing the door slightly ajar, hearing absolute silence.

Drawing in a low deep breath, Dani stepped closer and eased the door open.

Jamie stood motionless and silent in the middle of Nan’s room, facing just slightly away from Dani, staring blankly at Nan’s bed. Dani’s breath caught in her chest. Standing frozen in the doorway, rooted to the spot, Dani felt as though with one wrong move, the walls would collapse inwards. The air still and thick, as though holding its breath. Jamie remained unmoving, shell-shocked and stiff. Slowly, Dani stepped inside, floorboards creaking wearily under the weight of her feet.

“Hey,” Dani whispered, stepping closer, her hand twitching to grasp Jamie’s.

Jamie didn’t respond. Dani followed her gaze and went still when her eyes landed on the small pile of belongings on Nan’s bed. Clothes folded neatly, a pair of round tortoise-shell spectacles, and jewelry that consisted of modest pearl earrings, a small cross hanging from a simple chain, and a wedding ring.

“Hey,” she said again, wrapping her hand around Jamie’s, “Look at me.”

Dani gently pulled Jamie away, turning her so she faced Dani instead of the memories that lay on Nan’s bed. As stiff as she was, Jamie was pliant, blinking as her eyes gradually met Dani’s, gray and still as stone. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she squeezed Jamie’s hand tight.

“It’s okay,” Dani breathed, her voice cracking and trembling, struggling not to reach up to cup Jamie’s face, feeling her eyes burn, “It’s okay. You don’t - you don’t have to feel anything right now. I’ll feel it for you. For the both of us.”

Jamie visibly swallowed hard, her throat working. She blinked and ducked her eyes, slowly easing her hand out of Dani’s, her jaw going tight. Dani watched quietly as Jamie dug her hand in her jean pocket, pulling something out in her fist. She silently took Dani’s hand and placed Dani’s blue scrunchie in her palm. Something hard twisted painfully in Dani’s chest, and she clenched her jaw until it ached. Slowly looking up, Jamie’s expression remained wooden save for the taut lines of her jaw. Dani wanted so much to press closer, to guide Jamie’s head to her shoulder and wrap her within Dani’s arms. But Jamie eased away, giving Dani one last blank look before quietly stepping past her and out of the room.

Clenching her fist around the scrunchie, Dani pressed her eyes shut, swallowing hard past a thick lump in her throat, listening to the distant sounds of Jamie moving around in the kitchen. With a trembling exhale, Dani hastily wiped her eyes and cheeks, and stepped towards Mikey’s crib. She softened to find him still fast asleep, still clutching at Jamie’s medal as though that was the only thing tethering him to a restful evening nap. He’d always been taken to shiny, bright things.

But now there’d be no more medals. No more triumphant smiles and photos. Not any time soon at least. Not with this shadow of Jamie ambling around like a fast-fading ghost. Taking a fortifying breath, Dani pressed a kiss to her fingers and reached down to place it against Mikey’s cheek, letting her hand smooth over his hair and down his back. After watching him for a moment longer, she slowly retreated, letting herself take another long look around the room. Feeling a twinge in her chest, Dani closed the door, leaving just a crack open, and followed Jamie to the kitchen.

Dani woke trembling beneath her bedsheets. Her jaw wired shut, teeth clenched so hard she could feel the ache of it spread across her skull. Her breath stuttered in small gasps in her chest, a thick lump of lead in her throat that threatened to drown her. She slowly came to herself, slowly felt the world extend beyond the single point of choking back a sob. Echoes of her dad’s laugh ringing in her ears, Nan’s stoic affection and wry grin turning away. Vestiges of a dream slipping fast between her fingers until all Dani was left with was the feeling of being hollowed out.

Unfurling from the tight ball Dani had curled herself into, her limbs aching from the position, she gradually stretched out on her back, placing a hand against her face to block out the elongated morning rays stretching across her room. Her hands were trembling, she realized, and she exhaled slowly, shakily, listening to the sounds of the morning birds chirp through the open crack of her window as she steadied her breathing. Rubbing away the drying streaks of tears from her cheeks, Dani slowly rose to swing her legs over the edge of the bed, her shoulders stiff.

Her eyes landed on the black dress hanging from the back of her bedroom door, already ironed smooth and looming like a shadow, waiting for her to slip on. Dani exhaled again, longer and a little steadier. Tucking away the loose threads of her dream, the strain simmering beneath her skin. It wouldn’t serve her anything good here, not today. Not when Jamie needed her.

The house was quiet as she went about getting ready for the day. And Dani found herself going through the motions in a slight daze, as though watching snippets of a broken film reel. Making breakfast and tea in a hazy sun streaked kitchen. A hot shower that burned her skin pink. Slipping on the black dress she had bought specifically for today. Putting in smooth waves in her hair and a light dusting of makeup. Her hand dialing a phone number that might as well be etched right up against her ribs, beside her heart.

The phone rang for such an uneasy long time that Dani bit her lip and wondered maybe if Jamie hadn’t even woken yet, when —

“Yeah?” came Jamie’s voice, a singular gruff note.

“Hey, it’s me,” Dani said softly, her free hand restlessly drumming against the kitchen counter, “I’m - I’ve just finished getting ready, and I was wondering - “

“Just getting ready now,” Jamie said, sounding tired and flat. “See you soon, yeah?”

Dani opened her mouth to ask her, to urge her — ‘How are you? Don’t shut me out. Please talk to me.’ — but she swallowed it down. She nodded, and quickly realizing Jamie couldn’t see her, she said softly, “Yeah. Okay. See you.”

Without another word, the line went dead. Dan stood there for a moment longer, listening to the dial tone and her quiet breaths she fought to keep steady, before finally returning to the receiver to it’s base.

Above her, there were footsteps and the creaking of doors. Dani exhaled and ran a trembling hand across her forehead and through her hair. With another fortifying breath, Dani scaled the stairs and paused on the landing, worrying her lower lip with her teeth as she stared at her mom’s bedroom door, just slightly ajar. There was movement inside, soft thumps against wood and a click of a lighter. With her hands balled into fists, she wandered closer and gently knocked on the door.

“Mom?” she said quietly.

A sigh. “Yes?”

Unease slipped between Dani’s shoulder blades, and she eased the door open. She was promptly hit with the combined smells of sharp chemicals and smoke filtering through the room, repellent and headache inducing. She almost choked on it, hesitating at the threshold of the room where she was greeted with her mom sitting by her vanity, a cigarette tucked between her lips and dousing the roots of her hair with dye.

“Are you just going to stand there?” Karen said, not even bothering to look in Dani’s direction, cigarette bobbing in her mouth.

Dani swallowed thickly. “I thought you were at work?” she said hesitantly.

Her mother shook her head and sighed. “Took the day off,” she said, and didn’t elaborate.

“Well - um,” Dani fumbled, “Well, I’m going now. I’m not sure how long I’ll be.”

Karen grunted in response, leaning closer in the mirror as she angled her head to get a tricky spot, her gloved hands working in the dye. But when Dani didn’t move or say anything more, her eyes flitted towards Dani’s reflection in the mirror and she squinted.

“Is that what you’re wearing?”

Dani glanced down at herself. It was a simple dress, cinched at the waist before draping out gently to just below her knees with a high neckline and short sleeves. Judy had referred to it as classically vintage and beautiful, but her mother seemed inclined to disagree with a look of snobbish disdain.

A swell of shame building within her, feeling her nails dig into her palms, Dani felt her shoulders straighten and her expression harden. “Yes,” she said sharply.

Karen arched a slow, derisive eyebrow. Dani’s stomach tightened, the look seeming to slice through her, but she stood her ground, her hands shaking. All at once, a distant memory came upon her. Nan’s voice from all those years ago echoing through her: “ If you’re going to say something unfortunate, you might as well be loud about it.”

“I wish y — “ Dani started, choking on the words.

Her mother’s arms which had been hovering frozen over her head gradually dropped. Leaving the bottle of dye on the towel covering her vanity, Karen lifted a dye stained hand to take a long drag of her cigarette, and slowly exhaled, smoke framing her face. “You wished what, Danielle?” Karen asked, a dangerous sharp edge to her tone.

Her heartbeat loud in her ears, Dani said softly, “I wish you cared.”

Karen’s face slowly fell, and quickly hardened. “You take that tone with me again, and there’ll be no funeral to go to when I’m through with you,” she said around a plume of smoke.

Dani said nothing, smothering down a flare of belligerence threatening to burst from her, struggling to smooth away an indignant scowl. But feeling her courage slip away from her nonetheless, Dani nodded. “See you later,” she mumbled.

But when she started to retreat back downstairs, her mother said, “You won’t.” Dani blinked at her with a questioning frown. “I won’t be home until late. I have a date with — “

“I don’t want to know - ” Dani rushed out, “- about that.”

Karen’s eyes hardened once again, but before she could say anything more, Dani ducked her eyes and made a swift exit.

The burn of indignation fizzled quickly, leaving only weariness that seemed to pull at her seams. She tamped it down as she always did, tucking it away that not even the O’Mara’s seemed to cotton onto it as they drove towards the railway cottage. Still, it didn’t stop Eddie from clutching her hand in a firm grip, or Judy from glancing back every so often through the rearview mirror with a faint measure of concern.

“Are you sure you’ll be all right to drive that truck?” Judy asked, her hands nervously tapping at the steering wheel.

Even as Dani nodded, Mike twisted around in the passenger seat with a gentle grin and said, “There’s still plenty of time to get the second car.”

“I can even hold Mikey,” Carson offered from beside her, giving Dani a brief grin that belied the red that already imbued his eyes.

“We’ll be fine,” Dani assured.

Eddie squeezed her hand. “Are you sure?” he murmured.

Dani nodded. “It’s fine.”

But even as she said so, a coil formed in her stomach. Her hand drifted towards her mouth, and when she realized when she was doing, she quickly yanked it down to clench into a fist in her lap, hidden in the folds of her dress.

Judy waited by the curb when she dropped Dani off, the car rumbling as it idled. Dani fidgeted with fingers as she waited for Jamie to answer her knock, nails picking at her skin. When she heard footsteps, Dani straightened upright and inhaled a fortifying breath. The door swung open and she was greeted with Jamie in a simple black dress and her hair pinned back, appearing almost elegant if it weren’t for the dark circles under stony eyes and blank expression.

Dani swallowed hard, and offered Jamie a flickering smile. “Hey.”

Jamie only nodded in response, a short jerk of her head, barely meeting Dani’s eyes. “Just having tea,” she murmured, and retreated inside without even sparing a glance to the car idling by the curb.

Dani bit her lip and glanced behind her to give the O’Mara’s a furtive reassuring wave before following Jamie inside, closing the door behind her. It was quiet inside, save for Mikey’s mumbling chatter and Jamie’s soft responses. She only seemed to ever respond to Mikey since it happened, which was more than enough for Dani, just as long as she knew Jamie was still altogether here, still present in some way. She followed the sounds in the kitchen where Jamie was quietly making a brew while Mikey puttered around by her feet, clutching at the hem of Jamie’s dress, already wearing his dress pants and shirt.

When he caught sight of Dani, his eyes lit up and he rushed towards her. “Dani, Dani, Dani.”

“Hey, sweet thing,” she murmured, feeling her heart swell as she scooped him up in her arms and kissed his cheek. “How are you?”

“Tired,” he said with a great big sigh, leaning his head against her shoulder. “Want Nana.”

Jamie went still by the counter. Frozen as though captured in stone. And then she was moving again, slowly turning the teapot in it’s spot. Dani watched her carefully, feeling her chest ache.

“Where’s Nana?” Mikey whined into her shoulder.

“We’re going to go see her,” Dani said softly, looking away from the taut lines in Jamie’s back and shoulders to give Mikey her full attention. “We’re going to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?”

“Yeah, buddy.”

Mikey lifted his head to give her a confused pout. “Why?”

Dani swallowed thickly. “You know why,” she said softly, “We talked about this, remember?”

He shook his head, pouting some more. “Want Nana,” he repeated in a louder tone that bordered on a whine.

The teapot set heavily against the table with a firm thud. “That’s enough,” Jamie said, her voice clipped, expression wooden. “You gonna finish eating or not?”

At the promise of food, his looming tantrum briefly forgotten, Mikey reached for Jamie with stretched out arms. When Dani handed him to her, the pair slumped heavily in a chair at the kitchen table with Mikey in Jamie’s lap. Dani joined them in an adjacent seat, smiling weakly as Mikey promptly dug into a bowl of dry cereal that was already waiting for him. Jamie sighed, and reached for the teapot, but Dani was quick to jump in.

“I’ll get that,” Dani said, waving Jamie away, “You relax.”

Though Jamie didn’t argue, Dani could feel her eyes boring into the side of her face as Dani poured them their tea, but when Dani looked up, Jamie blinked and her eyes drifted away without a word.

The kitchen was quiet save for the crunch of cereal as Mikey ate and the quiet clink of porcelain as she and Jamie made their tea. The pouring of milk, the spoonfuls of sugar. Jamie went through the motions as though on autopilot, her movement stilted. Struck with the urge to just do something, to feel the warmth of Jamie’s skin again, Dani slowly reached out and grasped the top of Jamie’s hand. Jamie slowly went still as Dani stroked her knuckles, feeling the grooves of her skin. Visibly swallowing heavily, the muscles of Jamie’s jaw jumped, and slowly, without looking up, she slipped her hand out of Dani’s grasp.

Feeling her stomach coil tight, Dani pulled her hand back to ball into a fist in her lap. Clearing her throat, Jamie took a sip of her tea and promptly set it back on the table when it was evidently still too hot to drink.

Leaning forward from where he was reclining against Jamie, Mikey said, “Tea hot?”

“Yeah, love,” Jamie said quietly, “Don’t touch.”

“Blow on it for Jamie?”

And before either of them could do anything, they both watched in silent horror as Mikey leaned closer and blew into Jamie’s tea, inadvertently spitting half chewed cereal into Jamie’s cup with tiny plops, drops of tea splattering out.

Jamie blinked down at her tea, blank and exhausted in equal measure. “Thanks, mate,” she said, and lifted the cup to take a sip.

With an exasperated sigh and roll of her eyes, Dani rose to her feet and took the cup from Jamie’s hand to drain the ruined tea down the sink. Stiffly reclining back in her chair, keeping Mikey balanced in her lap as he ate, Jamie didn’t say a word. A week ago Jamie would have grumbled, a week ago Nan would have snorted with a sharp remark, and like clockwork, Jamie would bite back. A week ago, this kitchen was filled with chatter and bickering that ended with a pot of tea and a tin of cookies on the table as a flag of truce. The memories of it so fresh, that Dani could almost hear the echoes of it like ghosts in the silence.

And Jamie remained quiet through it all. Throughout Dani pouring her another cup of tea, to quietly eating breakfast, to tying on Mikey’s shoes, to Dani grabbing the truck keys from her hand when they finally shuffled out the door. Jamie didn’t protest. The truck felt clunky in Dani’s hands, larger than what Dani was used to handling. Of all the times Dani’s been in this truck, it had always been either Nan or Jamie driving. Sitting in the driver's seat now felt like being split into a mirror universe, the perspectives all wrong. But Dani kept them steady on the road, keeping the volume of the radio on low until it was only just white noise to accompany them.

The morning sun rays stretched through the windows and across the cabin, backlighting Jamie’s hair in russet tones that ruffled gently in the warm breeze of the open window. Dani couldn’t help casting furtive glances at her as she drove, the corner of her mouth curling at Mikey wrapped in her arms, the slant of Jamie’s profile sharp and outlined in golden light as she leaned her head back against the headrest, watching passing landmarks. Dani’s knuckles went white against the steering wheel, wanting to reach over and link their fingers, but smothered down the urge.

The church loomed ahead, gray brick and slanted roof. Dani had never frequented it before for all the times she’s passed by, belonging to a different denomination than what she grew up in. When she parked the truck and switched off the engine, Dani spotted both Carson and Eddie waiting outside the front double doors, leaning against the brick but standing at attention when they caught sight of the truck. Jamie sat upright and went stiff.

“Ready?” Dani murmured.

Staring intently out the windscreen, jaw taut, Jamie’s throat bobbed. “Give us a minute?” she muttered.

Pressing her mouth into a thin line, Dani nodded and slipped out the truck, shutting the door firmly. Peering inside the truck for a moment, Jamie’s image through the dusty window was shadowed and blurred as though she were underwater, her hand running over Mikey’s back in soothing patterns as she murmured softly to him. Swallowing thickly, Dani sharply turned away and started towards the boys, her arms wrapped around her stomach.

“Is she okay?” Eddie asked in lieu of greeting, his hands shoved deep into his suit pockets, wearing a concerned frown.

Dani nodded, then shook her head, biting her lip. Eddie sighed while beside him, Carson remained silent, anxiously watching the truck with his arms crossed and his brow furrowed. Before any of them could say anything more, the truck door audibly swung open and Jamie stepped out with Mikey, heading towards them.

“Just - “ Dani said quietly “ - Give her some space?”

They both nodded silently, but even so, Jamie marched right past them without a word to delve inside the church. The three of them exchanged anxious somber looks, before silently following Jamie inside in a slow procession. It was cooler inside, the air still. The atrium was vast, the ceiling towering above her in exposed arched beams, the room seeming to echo with every footstep. Tall windows letting in slants of watery light across the walls and marble floors.

And framing the double doors leading into the main hall were stands of bouquets and two portraits of Nan. A black and white portrait of her in her youth, strikingly beautiful in a way that she could’ve been mistaken for a film star, regardless for the stern square of her jaw. And another as she was before she died, one Dani vividly remembered taking during Jamie’s sixteenth birthday just a few weeks ago. An ache spread across her chest, and she had to look away. She landed on the three figures standing in the threshold of the main hall, Mike standing beside Judy as she talked in low tones to Jamie who stood stiff and wooden as they faced the interior.

Dani slowly neared them as though nearing a cornered animal. Judy pressed a hand to the back of Jamie’s shoulder, and Jamie quietly nodded. And though her back was facing Dani, she could imagine Jamie not fully absorbing Judy’s words if her look of anxious concern was any indication. When Dani stepped beside them, Judy gave her a flickering smile.

“There you are, sweetheart,” Judy murmured. “I was just telling Jamie that we’re going to go say our goodbyes now, and then service starts soon.”

Dani nodded. There were more soft words, more assurances, but she didn’t hear them, her eyes glued to Jamie’s profile. To the same eerily blank expression she wore while watching the sunset all those days ago, staring down the long stretch of red aisle to the apse where a mahogany casket rested. Jamie stood rigid and unblinking, as though she might bolt in the opposite direction with Mikey in tow at any sudden movement.

Inhaling a slow breath, feeling her heart thump against her ribs, Dani gave Judy what she hoped was a reassuring smile and said, “We’ll be right behind you.”

Judy stared at her for a long moment, eyes glistening, and briefly cupped Dani’s cheek. “Brave girl,” she whispered, and then linked her arm with Mike’s, making their way down the aisle.

Carson and Eddie quietly followed. Carson’s head was bowed as he rushed to Judy’s side, and Eddie offered Dani a weak grin over his shoulder that belied the somber concern in his eyes. He lightly grasped her hand for a moment, before ducking his head and following after the others, his hands deep in his pockets.

Beside her, Jamie remained still. “Jamie?” she murmured.

Jamie visibly swallowed hard, her throat working. She shook her head. A minute movement that Dani wouldn’t have noticed if she weren’t looking so intently. Even Mikey seemed still, cottoning on to Jamie’s emotions, his head ducked into her shoulder. Dani’s eyes darted down to Jamie’s free hand, balled into a white knuckled fist. Sucking in low breath, Dani slowly reached out and grasped her hand, carefully unfurling her fist to link their fingers. When Jamie’s hand remained limp, Dani expected her to pull away. To slip out of Dani’s hold and march off. But slowly, surely, Jamie’s hand tightened in her own.

Expelling a trembling exhale, both relieved and uneasy in equal measure, Dani squeezed her hand and began guiding her down the aisle. The row of pews seemed endless as they passed, the breadth of the apse expanding before them in more arches and exposed beams of dark wood. And the closer they neared, the harder Jamie’s hand gripped her own until Dani could almost feel the grind of bone and tendon.

The casket was open, framed by more bouquets of what Dani recognized were Nan’s favorite flowers. Distantly, Dani wondered if there were so many of them in order to mask the smell of death. Dani’s only seen a dead body once. Eight years old and standing at a cliff’s edge in the howling winds with nothing to hold onto, with no one to hold onto her. But Jamie’s hand was in hers this time, and she could only hope it was enough. Enough to tether each other away from the yawning gulf of grief threatening to swallow them whole. But just as soon as she caught sight of just an inch of the body that lay within the casket, she was pulled to a stop by Jamie’s hand.

“I - “ Jamie started, her voice cracked, eyes unblinking.

Dani stepped closer and murmured, “It’s okay. We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

She could feel eyes on them, could hear the faint echoes of sniffles and choked tears, but they all faded in the distance as she watched Jamie, running a soothing thumb over Jamie’s rough knuckles. Jamie’s jaw squared and she lightly shook her head, continuing towards the casket.

For a woman of her age, Nan had never sat still, not as she was now. Hands folded over her stomach and dressed in her best, wearing a light adornment of her favorite jewelry. Her face layered with thick makeup that did nothing to mask the ashen paleness of her skin. There was something off about her, something that seemed to pull uncomfortably at Dani’s skin. It took her a long moment to realize what it was — Nan wasn’t wearing her glasses.

Mikey shifted in Jamie’s arms, leaning close. “Nana sleeping?”

Jamie remained silent, her hand trembling in Dani’s, staring unblinking at Nan with a blank expression.

“She does, doesn’t she, bud,” Dani murmured, “People say that sometimes. That they look like they’re sleeping.”

“She doesn’t look like she’s sleeping,” Jamie said, her tone flat and low, “She looks dead.”

Feeling something tighten in her chest, Dani went silent, not knowing what else to say but to nod faintly and stroke her thumb over Jamie’s knuckles.

Jamie shifted Mikey in her arm, no doubt getting tired from holding him for so long. “Remember what I told you,” Jamie said to him quietly, “Say your goodbyes now.”

“Bye-bye,” Mikey said with a small wave, and wiggled slightly, “Kiss?”

Sighing, Jamie muttered, “Fine.”

When Jamie finally pulled her hand from Dani’s to hold Mikey properly, Dani’s hand dangled uselessly and empty by her side. Not knowing what else to do with them, she wrapped her arms around her stomach and watched as Jamie helped Mikey lean over the casket to press a light kiss to Nan’s forehead.

“Love you,” Mikey said, “See you later.”

Jamie exhaled, but didn’t correct him. “You done?” Jamie asked between her clenched teeth, staring fixedly at a bright bouquet.

Realizing Jamie directed the question towards her, Dani startled slightly and nodded. Without a word, Jamie turned on the spot and stood there, as though waiting for Dani to follow. Sparing Nan another look, letting her eyes sweep over her one last time, Dani inhaled a slow breath and nodded to herself. ‘ Bye,’ she mouthed, and turned to follow Jamie towards the pews.

Judy and Mike were already standing to greet them. “Are you sure you don’t want us to hold him, honey?” Judy asked gently, “We wouldn’t mind, truly.”

“It’s fine,” Jamie said in a flat tone, her grip on Mikey tightening almost imperceptibly. Mikey meanwhile had an arm wrapped around Jamie’s shoulders, and was looking around the church with wide-eyed wonder.

“Can I carry him?” Dani cautioned to offer, giving Jamie a weak smile when her eyes flitted sharply to Dani’s.

Jamie clenched her teeth, tendons like ropes standing out against her jaw. “Service starts soon,” she muttered.

“Exactly,” Dani said softly, slowly reaching up to grasp Mikey’s hand.

In the end, it took a minute of gentle coaxing for Jamie to let Mike lift Mikey from her arms that had begun to tremble from the weight of holding him so long. Mike uttered a soft quip about the Michaels sticking together that fell on deaf ears, Jamie’s fists clenching and unclenching with a wooden expression as she watched Mikey settle comfortably against Mike’s shoulder. Dani let her stare for only a few seconds longer before lightly grasping her wrist and guiding her to sit, letting the O’Mara’s coo over Mikey.

Jamie remained rigid, until she wasn’t. Her knee jumped restlessly as they waited for the service to start. Chatter and murmurs echoing through the church like whispers until it all seemed to blend together. And when a priest in white vestments rose to the altar, the sound seemed to drown away until all that was left was an eerie silence.

With only the memories of her eight year old self to go by, Dani had nothing to compare the service to. It was simple, and for lack of better terms, she could almost say pleasant. The priest had a warm voice as he spoke in sure, deft tones. Reciting Bible passages and leading them through prayers and hymns. At one point the priest made an open-handed gesture towards Jamie and asked if she wanted to say a few words. Jamie physically recoiled, as if trying to sink into the pew and disappear. Dani answered for her with a wide-eyed shake of her head. Mercifully, he simply nodded in understanding and continued on with the ceremony.

Jamie fidgeted through the whole thing. At one point, Dani discreetly put her hand on Jamie’s knee, palm up like an offering, and Jamie immediately squeezed it without even glancing over. Her grip crushed Dani’s fingers until she could barely feel behind her knuckles, but not once did Dani try to extricate her hand. She kept stealing glances at Jamie’s profile, but Jamie stared fixedly at a spot on the floor. Somewhere beneath the bouquet with a picture frame bearing Nan’s image, but nowhere near the casket.

Jamie was wedged between Dani and the end of the pew. Every time Dani tried to scoot over and give her some space, Jamie would squeeze her hand tighter until her whole forearm trembled. With a wince, Dani would shuffle back a little closer, their legs pressed together, Jamie's ankle nervously knocking against Dani's calf in a jerky rhythmic pattern. On Dani's other side, Judy kept needing to dig through her purse for another tissue with which to wipe her eyes. Her mascara was ruined, and Dani could not help but wonder why she had bothered putting on makeup at all.

Dani's own eyes remained dry, but for the great yawning grief in her chest that felt like it was gnawing at her ribs from within. She had done enough crying the night before. Her pillow had still been damp when she had woken up shaking from her dream that morning, and she'd had to wash her face before getting dressed. On Judy's other side, Mike was solemn and quiet. Eddie was shell-shocked and baffled. And Carson was a sniffling wreck. Mike kept on having to ferry tissues from his wife to his youngest son as he balanced Mikey in his lap.

And then it was over. Even as they stood and trudged single-file down the aisle, Dani struggled to remember a single word that the priest had said. Familiar platitudes. Kindnesses to soothe the rawness that threatened to burn a path up her throat and spill out like a many-legged thing. Jamie hadn't let go of Dani's hand, and sharp tendons stood out on her jaw. They walked towards a room that branched off near the exit — already arrayed with coffee in styrofoam cups and platters of flavorless sandwiches — and Dani squeezed Jamie's hand back. Expression blank, Jamie blinked at her in silent question.

Dani opened her mouth to speak, but the words died on her tongue. Finally she managed to say, "Do you want some food?"

Before Jamie could answer, Judy had placed a hand on Jamie's shoulder and was pulling her in for a hug. Jamie let go of Dani and went absolutely rigid beneath the attention. Even after Judy had pulled away, Jamie remained tense, as though ready to bolt at a moment's notice.

"You did so well, honey," Judy said. "So, so well. You're so strong."

Clearing her throat, Jamie shrugged Judy's hands away. "I need to find the loo."

And with that she darted away, shoulders hunched. Judy turned to Dani and said, "Would you follow her and go make sure she's all right?"

What am I supposed to do? Dani thought to herself, but she only nodded. When she looked around, she frowned. In the few seconds that she had been looking away, Jamie had slipped out of the room unseen. Eddie was making his mother a cup of coffee and bringing it over to press it into her hands, while Mike spoke softly to Carson in the corner, angling his body so that Carson was hidden from sight and given some measure of privacy for a moment.

So few others had shown up to the funeral that the large room, meant to fit a hundred, seemed empty. Venturing out into the hall and walking slowly along, Dani felt like a doll that had escaped its house and now wandered around a giant’s labyrinth in search of exits. The priest had moved into the reception room to talk with Judy and the others. Dani paused. The main aisle of the church extended before her, a long length of red cloth running out from her feet towards the casket on the far end of the apse.

She was eight years old again and terrified. Terrified of loss. Terrified of loneliness. If she willed it hard enough, maybe the body in the casket would sit up, swing its legs free, and laugh. It was all a joke, it would say. It was all just a big misunderstanding. It was time to go home.

Hands clenched into trembling fists at her sides, Dani turned and marched away. “Jamie?” she called out, not loud but determined.

Rounding a corner, Dani found a hall full of doors. The first was clearly labelled as a bathroom. A quick venture inside soon proved that Jamie was not there. On her way back out, Dani avoided looking at the mirror. In her black dress and her makeup and her coiffed hair, she looked wrong.

She poked her head into the next door down the hall. “Jamie?”

The dark room answered her with silence. The wood-panelling was darkly stained. All of the furniture was covered in white sheets, untouched and wan in the dim light from the doorway in which she stood. Just as Dani was about to leave and go searching elsewhere however, there was a creak. She froze and slowly turned back around.

Something was moving on the other side of the room. Gripping the door handle tight, Dani squinted through the gloom, trying to make out the shape. Then abruptly it rose to its feet.

“Jesus,” Dani gasped as Jamie straightened, blinking over at her.

“Get lost looking for the bathroom, did you?” Jamie asked.

Dani shook her head. “No. I was looking for you. Where did you go?”

With a shrug, Jamie made her way across the room. “Here,” she said. Her hands were jammed into the pockets of her black jacket.

“For a smoke?”

“Just wanted to be alone.”

“Oh,” Dani said. And just like that she felt like an intruder. Hunting Jamie down. Blocking the doorway. Dani took a tentative step back. “Do you want me to go?”

Jamie gave her one of those oddly blank looks, her expression unreadable. “Did Judy ask you to come get me? Think I was going to pull a runner?”

“No,” said Dani. “Well, I mean, yes. She asked me to find you, but –”

Jamie snorted and gave an exasperated shake of her head, glancing away.

“But I just wanted to make sure you were all right,” Dani finished lamely.

“All right?” Jamie repeated dully.

“You know what I mean.”

For as long as Dani had known her, Jamie had a wild streak. A rough edge. Like trailing her fingertips across a ragged burr. She could always rely on Jamie being just slightly unreliable. On the wrong side of predictability. Usually this resulted in spontaneity. Going on long car rides to chase storms. Sneaking out at night to watch movies. Lifting packs of cigarettes from the twins and smoking them on the old train tracks.

Looking at Jamie now however, felt like watching the first few sparks on the precipice of a wildfire. She was a thing ready to be snatched up by an errant breeze. As though she might lash out of her own skin, teeth bared, at any wayward attempt to draw too near.

“You should eat something,” Dani said.

“I had breakfast.”

“I saw you throw most of it out.”

“You don’t need to babysit me. I’m –”

“–Fine?” Dani supplied for her when Jamie couldn’t choke out the word herself. “Were you going to say you’re ‘fine’?”

“Coping,” Jamie growled.

As she said it, she shifted her weight and Dani heard a strange clinking. Like glass. Or perhaps like coins dropping together. There was a muscle that leapt in Jamie’s jaw, and her eyes hardened. Dani knew that look. Knew it all too well.

“Don’t,” Dani said in a warning tone.

Jamie frowned. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t fight me,” said Dani. “I know that you’re thinking it will feel better to be angry with me for – for being nosy or whatever, but it won’t work. If you want me to go, just tell me to go. But don’t fight me.”

Jamie’s mouth fell open, but Dani didn’t wait to hear what she had to say. Turning on her heel, Dani strode out of the room and back down the hall. Something red hot and angry burned brief and bright in her own chest, but quickly faded by the time she made it back to the room with all the tables and chairs and food. Flickered and died, so that her hands and lower lip trembled in equal measure, so that she had to clear her throat and straighten her shoulders and wipe briskly at her cheeks before she could step inside.

In one area, Judy was talking with the priest while Eddie lingered at the edge of the conversation. Carson and Mike were sitting against the far wall and entertaining Mikey. The moment Dani re-entered the room, Eddie sloped towards her.

“Did you find her?” he asked.

“What?” Dani said, then, “Oh. Yes. She was in the bathroom.”

Nodding, Eddie tried to give her a commiserating smile. He touched her shoulder softly and gestured towards one of the tables. “The sandwiches aren’t terrible, actually. Can I make you a plate?”

Dani’s stomach felt like it was a rag twisted over itself, squeezing out every last drop, but she nodded and let Eddie guide her over to the table. It was oddly nice, not having to think of everything. Letting Eddie put together a variety of food on a plate and hand it to her. Letting him keep her company and carry the conversation without expecting anything of her. They were still eating and murmuring in low tones when Dani saw someone at the corner of her vision.

Jamie slipped through the door. Somewhere along the way, she had procured for herself a cup. When Judy closed in on her, Jamie took a large sip of whatever the cup contained, as though bracing herself for impact.

“So, uh –” Eddie said beside her, drawing Dani’s attention back. “What’s going to happen?”

Mouth still full of a bite of sandwich, Dani chewed and swallowed before replying, “What do you mean?”

“Well. You know. With –” He gestured towards Jamie and then towards his own father, who was playing a shell game with Mikey that involved a piece of candy and three empty styrofoam cups.

It took a moment for Dani to realize exactly what he was talking about. She stared at Eddie, then shot a nervous glance towards Mikey. “I don’t know.”

“She still has family, right? Back in – where was it again? Burnley? Are they going to come over or -?” he trailed off, uncertain.

“I don’t know,” Dani repeated, faintly this time.

On the other side of the room, Jamie was draining what remained in her cup. When Judy appeared preoccupied with calling over the priest for further discussion, Dani saw Jamie quickly refill her cup with something in her pocket that glinted like metal or maybe glass. A can of pop, perhaps. Before she could dwell on it further, Eddie was talking again.

“They can come live with us, I guess,” he said, sounding far more confident than he had any right to be. “Tommy and David are at college, so we have the space now. Do you think she’d want to? Hang on. Let’s go ask dad.”

“Eddie –”

But he was already walking over to his father and Carson. Fiddling with the now empty paper plate, Dani chewed at her lower lip and watched as Eddie spoke with his dad. Mike’s expression was thoughtful yet guarded. He replied in a voice that was too low for Dani to overhear. Feeling vaguely ill, she set down her empty plate on one of the tables and glanced away.

Dani didn’t remember wakes lasting this long. Especially with this few people in attendance. Even so, every last person seemed to want to shake Jamie’s hand and express their condolences. From afar Dani watched as Jamie gripped their hands, scowled, and took a sip from her seemingly never-ending cup in lieu of responding in any way.

There were little printed pamphlets at the entrances and the corners of tables, each of them bearing the same picture of Nan with her name written in loopy typeface and the dates: 1907-1978. At one point, Dani tried to read its contents, the brief history of Ruth Heron’s life condensed down into a paragraph, but had to clear her throat and fold the page up hastily. It didn’t matter that she’d been born in rural West Lothian. It didn’t matter that she’d had a brother who'd died in Clydebank in 1941. It didn’t matter that she had a daughter in Lancashire who didn’t make it to the funeral. Ruth was gone and Dani couldn’t bring herself to look at her picture again.

“Oh, honey, are you all right?”

Dani glanced up. On the other side of the room Judy had a hand on Jamie’s arm to steady her, and Jamie was brushing her off even as she straightened.

“M’Fine,” Jamie muttered. “Just gonna get some food.”

Judy let her go with a worried expression. Meanwhile, Jamie wandered across the room, steps slightly uneven, until she stopped at the same table where Dani stood. Rather than reach for any food however, she simply gripped the edge of the table as if trying to stop herself from staggering outright.

“Are you –” Dani sidled closer and asked in a whisper, “– drunk?”

Jamie blinked blearily at her but did not respond. She lifted the cup back to her lips, already turning away to slip off somewhere again.

“Okay,” Dani said gently and took the cup. “All right. Let’s go.”

“What?” Jamie asked with a puzzled furrow in her brow.

With a hand on Jamie’s elbow, Dani steered her towards the exit. On the way past Mike and the boys, she paused momentarily to explain that she was going to take Jamie home and that they would see her tomorrow. Mike nodded and did not ask any questions. Eddie on the other hand made to stand, but Carson grabbed hold of his sleeve and tugged him back down into the seat beside him.

“Let ‘em go, Eddie.”

“But –”

“We’ll see them tomorrow,” Carson said, and he gave Dani a shaky smile. “We’ll see you tomorrow. Right?”

Hand tightening around the curve of Jamie’s elbow, Dani nodded. “Yeah.”

It didn’t take much urging to get Jamie out of the church and into the parking lot. She kept a steady hand on Jamie as they went, drifting from Jamie’s elbow to the small of her back and resting lightly there. In the truck, Jamie pulled a small crystal decanter from its hiding place in her jacket and unstoppered it. How she had managed to keep it hidden without anyone noticing was nothing short of a miracle. Most of its contents had already been finished, but Jamie tipped back her head and downed what remained of the amber liquid.

“Communion wine?” Dani asked, starting the truck and pulling away from the curb.

“Nah,” said Jamie. “This one was brandy, I think.”

She tried stoppering the decanter, but it took her a few tries to get the pieces together in the moving vehicle. Her face screwed up in concentration until she finally managed it and set the decanter on the floor by her feet.

“Couldn’t have shared?”

For some reason Jamie thought that was funny, for she laughed. “Thought you didn’t like getting drunk.”

Dani shrugged and pulled on the indicator before turning down another street. “I don’t. But I like feeling this way even less.”

“Bet your mum has some good stuff at your place.”

With a hum of agreement, Dani said, “She does. And she marks it all on the bottles.”

“Fucking hell,” Jamie muttered. She shut her eyes and let her head sink back against the headrest. “How can she be that paranoid? It’s you we’re talking about. Little Miss Perfect.”

White noise of the pavement beneath the tires. Dani fumbled with the gear stick, accidentally grinding the engine into third with a wince.

“I’m not,” she said after a long pause.

“Mmm?”

“I’m not perfect.”

“Y’are,” Jamie said, her accent thicker, her words gliding together.

Dani darted a glance towards her, but Jamie’s eyes were still closed, her head still tilted back. She looked on the verge of sleep until she let her head loll to the side so she could stare out the passenger window. Gripping the steering wheel tight, Dani drove them home.

When they pulled up to the house, Dani breathed a sigh of relief to find that her mother’s car was gone. Killing the engine, she unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out of the truck. Back at the church, Jamie had seemed steady enough on her feet, but now she had to cling to the truck door to remain upright when she staggered out of the vehicle and onto the pavement. Quickly, Dani darted around the truck, half expecting Jamie to shrug off her help. Instead, Jamie leaned into her, placing a hand at the dip of Dani’s waist and curling her fingers against the black fabric of her dress as if that was the only thing keeping her upright.

“Come on,” Dani murmured, shutting the door and leading Jamie up the walkway to the front door. “Let’s get you some water.”

It took some fumbling to get the door open — two sets of keys in one hand and keeping hold of Jamie with the other — but then they were spilling inside.

With only some minor grumbling under her breath, Jamie let Dani lean her against one of the side tables to help with her ankle boots. Dani didn’t care to watch where they landed as she tossed them aside, preoccupied with keeping Jamie upright when she swayed off balance.

“Stay here, okay?” Dani said when she was sure Jamie wasn’t able to keel over, peeling off her own shoes.

Jamie snorted. “Where else am I going to go?”

With a soft sigh, Dani retreated into the kitchen to fill a large glass with water and was quick to return to Jamie’s side. Dani slowed as she approached her, carefully eyeing Jamie’s white knuckles against the table she gripped behind her and rigid shoulders. It took Dani a moment to realize Jamie was staring at something, across the room on the other side of the door where the gardenias sat, drooping and wilted and forgotten.

Swallowing thickly, Dani grasped her wrist. “Hey,” she murmured, and waited until Jamie’s eyes darted to hers to hold up the glass. “Drink. All of it.”

Jamie blinked blearily at her, and without a word she took the glass and gradually emptied it in slow gulps.

The hard part came with guiding Jamie up the stairs. With her arm around Jamie’s waist, they managed for the most part, only nearly stumbling once or twice to Jamie’s muttered stream of cursing.

“It’s okay,” Dani said after nearly stumbling again, “Not my first rodeo, believe it or not.”

“I believe it,” Jamie muttered darkly.

When they finally made it to Dani’s room, she left Jamie resting against her cramped writing desk. Jamie sighed, gripping the wooden edge. “Can’t I just - “ she gestured to Dani’s bed, but didn’t elaborate.

“You’ll be comfier if you change out of that dress first,” Dani said. Jamie aimed another blank look at her, exhaustion coloring her heavy eyes. Dani gave her a soft flickering smile and turned to dig into the drawers of her dresser for clothes. “I still have your Blondie t-shirt somewhere from the last time I was at your place, but I think it’s in the wash.”

Locating a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, she turned to hand them to Jamie but froze at what greeted her. Jamie had turned to face her desk, shoulders strained and head bowed, and looking directly down at the piles of photos Dani had left there. The rolls Dani had recently gotten developed at the pharmacy of Jamie’s track conference, and a collection spanning years that featured Nan, where Dani had spent the week sifting through with tear stained cheeks for the perfect photo for the funeral.

“Shit,” Dani said under her breath, swallowing thickly, her eyes unmoving from the rigid lines of Jamie’s back.

Leaving the clothes on the dresser, Dani slowly inched closer as though any sudden movement would spark a trigger of wildfire. But as Dani drew nearer, a hand carefully outstretched, dread pooled in her stomach. Jamie was shaking. Holding herself coiled taut like a spring as if that could contain the tremors running along her skin. Her heart in her throat, Dani glanced down to her desk, casting her eyes across the photos of Jamie and Nan, scattered across her desk like shattered remains of porcelain, or —

A choking sound erupted from Jamie. Her breath caught in her chest, Dani stepped closer, hovering her hand over Jamie’s trembling back. “Jamie?” she said, her voice wavering with worry, ducking her head to see Jamie’s face. “Look at me.”

Teeth clenched and chin trembling, Jamie didn’t respond. “Hey,” Dani breathed, raising a hand to cup the side of her face and gently turn her to face Dani. Head ducked, eyebrows cinched and turned down, Jamie expelled a trembling exhale, a tear falling from her eye to the carpet.

Dani brought up her other hand to frame Jamie’s face trembling from the effort not to cry. “It’s okay,” she breathed, stepping closer, her voice cracking, “It’s okay.”

Jamie’s face crumbled. Tears slipping from her eyes, Jamie let out a gasping sob. “It’s okay,” Dani repeated, and pulled Jamie close, wrapping her arms around her shoulders as Jamie collapsed against her, burying her face in the crook of Dani’s neck, sobs erupting from her.

Jamie shook in her arms, her hands gripping Dani close as though she was the only thing keeping from shattering into pieces, but Jamie’s knees were buckling beneath her. Carefully, Dani maneuvered them to the bed, keeping a tight hold on Jamie and bearing most of her weight.

“Here,” Dani murmured shakily, guiding Jamie to lie next to her. With stuttering breaths, her red eyes bright with tears and her skin splotchy, Jamie buried her face back into Dani’s shoulder as Dani wrapped her arms around her, and breathed, “I’ve got you.”

There was nothing more Dani could do but to hold her. To helplessly grip her tight and wish away the pain as Jamie’s body shook with violent choked sobs, grief-stricken and anguished, the sound gripping Dani’s heart into a painful vice. A thick lump appeared in Dani’s throat, her hands trembling, her eyes burning.

“Fucking bitch,” Jamie choked out, gasping for breath in between sobs.

“I know,” Dani said, her fingers digging into Jamie’s dress.

“I hate her.”

“I know,” Dani repeated, her voice cracking.

She had thought there was nothing left. Dried of her well of tears. Hollowed out by nights of falling asleep with tears stained cheeks. But Jamie shaking in her arms, Jamie breaking open from days and years of repressed misery and heartbreak pulled something from her that Dani didn’t even know was there. She inhaled a stuttering breath and pressed her cheek against Jamie’s hair, raising a hand to tangle into her dark curls.

Dani didn’t know how long they stayed there, holding each other tight against the tides of grief until it hurt, sobs gradually easing into stuttering gasps, legs tangled together. With Jamie’s comforting weight settled atop her, slowly coming back to herself and feeling less like the walls were crashing atop them, Dani ran a soothing hand through Jamie’s hair, letting her nails scratch gently against her scalp. Her breath slowed with the occasional hitching gasp, Jamie made a soft noise and exhaled a slow shaking breath, her shoulders slumping under Dani’s arms.

Her eyes slipping shut from exhaustion and the feeling of Jamie’s warm breath against her skin, Dani turned her head just enough to press a soft kiss to Jamie’s forehead and willed her to sleep, willed the pain away for just a moment, for just a few hours. And Dani would hold her, for as long as she needed, as long as she wanted.

Dani could fix this. If only for just a moment.

Dani knocked insistently at the rail cottage’s door for what felt like two minutes until it was finally yanked open from the other side.

“Hi,” she said, waving cheerily with a smile so broad it made her cheeks ache.

Dishevelled in a baggy shirt and sweatpants, bare feet and dark rings like bruises beneath her eyes, Jamie stood there. “Could you have knocked any louder?” she muttered. “Fuck’s sake.”

Trying to keep her smile in place when she felt it falter, Dani followed Jamie inside. “Sorry. It’s just that last time you were asleep.”

Jamie was already striding towards the kitchen, leaving Dani to close the front door behind her. “Yeah, well, this time the kid’s asleep and I’m juggling ten different pots on the stove.”

There were, Dani discovered not a moment later, only two pots on the stove. Both were bubbling, one with a small handful of pasta sticking out like a sheaf of wheat. Jamie went immediately to attend them, picking up a wooden spoon and stirring as though her life depended on it.

Chewing at her lower lip, Dani cast a surreptitious glance around the place. In Nan’s absence over the summer, the house had fallen upon hard times. It was dusty. There were piles of laundry atop the living room couch and dirty dishes arcing from the sink like a crown. None of the lights were on apart from the lonely kitchen pendant dangling overhead like a sword by a thread. She could feel something stick to the bottom of her feet when she walked over to the dining table and sat amongst empty boxes and old cups of tea. She started to push things aside to clear a small space, but paused when she began shuffling papers into a pile.

Legal documents full of jargon she barely understood and embossed with fancy titles. Trusts. Bank accounts. Numbers with zeros at the end, but not enough. Never enough. Letters with flourished signatures and foreign seals.

Clearing her throat, Dani set them all aside and pulled out a few papers from her school bag.

“I brought your homework,” Dani said and she neatly squared the pages atop the table beside the other documents.

Without turning around from the stove, Jamie grunted. “Thanks.”

For a long moment, silence reigned. Then Dani stood and crossed over to the sink, rolling up the sleeves of her pink sweater as she went. When she flipped open the tap and began doing the dishes, Jamie scowled.

“You don’t have to do that,” Jamie said, gripping the wooden spoon in a white-knuckled fist.

“I want to,” Dani replied firmly.

She could feel Jamie’s gaze digging into her back like an awl, but she did not turn around, resolutely reaching for the sponge and setting herself to task. She did not need to look to know that Jamie’s shoulders would be tense, that she would be holding herself as though to ward off an incoming blow, that her eyes would be hard and stormy, and her jaw tight. Instead, Dani worked methodically through the dishes, stacking up clean plates and cutlery on one side of the countertop, cold soapy water leaving suds all the way up her forearms.

Eventually, Dani braved the silence. “There’s that report due on Friday,” she said. “You know Ulysses? It’s on that one.”

Jamie hummed a wordless note of affirmation.

“Have you read it?” Dani asked. She had to use a bit of steel wool to scrape gunk that had been caked onto the bottom of a pot.

“Nope,” Jamie said. “Read the one it’s based on, though. Bloody depressing.”

“They’re quite different.”

“So?”

“So,” Dani set aside the pot and reached for another. “I mean – if you want, I can work on the report with you. Maybe I can stay the night, and –”

“Does your mum know you’re here?” Jamie asked abruptly, cutting her off.

“Yes,” Dani lied.

Beside her, Jamie shifted and Dani glanced around to find Jamie watching her with an incredulous expression.

“No,” Dani mumbled, turning back to the sink.

“You can stay for tea, but you should go home after.” Jamie stabbed at one of the pots with the wooden spoon. “Last thing I need is your mum coming round looking for you, and –”

From the other room there came the sound of a distinct burbling wail and they both froze.

“Shit,” Jamie swore under her breath, balancing the spoon across the top of the pot so it wouldn’t boil over.

Already wiping her hands dry with a towel, Dani said, “I’ve got him. Stay.”

She did not wait to listen to Jamie’s feeble counter argument. Slinging the towel over one shoulder, Dani walked briskly from the kitchen. The hall extended darkly before her. There was a weak light at the far end, a door slightly ajar leading to Nan’s old room. Slowly, Dani approached. She paused at the threshold, steeling herself with a deep breath before pushing the door open and stepping inside.

The bedsheets were rumpled as though they had been recently slept in and some of Jamie’s clothes were crumpled in a corner of the room. All of Nan’s things were still here — her jewelry hanging from the corners of a mirror, her spectacles folded atop the bedside table near a glass of water, her clothes gathering dust in the open closet — preserved like a painting or a pharaonic tomb.

Mikey was squirming against his blanket inside a crib at the foot of the bed. There were toys strung over the crib like a chandelier. Dani accidentally bumped her forehead against them when she leaned down to pick him up.

“Hey,” she murmured in as bright a voice as she could manage, smiling broadly. “Hi there. Hey, buddy. Did you have a nice nap?”

Dani’s experience with two year olds was next to nothing outside of this very house. He was a lot larger than even the last time she’d visited. She tried balancing him on her hip and bouncing him gently, but his face remained scrunched up and he cried. So, she moved him up slightly higher, hands linked beneath him so that he sat upright in her arms.

“Jamie’s making dinner. Do you want to see Jamie?” she asked. “Are you hungry?”

He rubbed at his eyes and nodded, his crying fading somewhat. “Yeah.”

“Yes to seeing Jamie? Or yes to being hungry?”

Mikey’s brows knit together and he said again with more emphasis, “ Yeah.”

She laughed softly and kissed the side of his head. “All right. Let’s go. Oof, you’re heavy.”

“I want Nana,” Mikey grumbled.

Starting towards the exit, she cleared her throat and said, “Well, I’m sorry, honey. But Nan’s gone.”

“No,” he insisted. “Nana’s there.”

As he said it, she felt a prickle of unease all the way down to the base of her spine. Mikey was pointing behind her, eyes locked on something inside the room. Something cold traced the back of Dani’s neck. She paused in the doorway, feeling that if she were to turn around Nan would still be sitting up in bed, spectacles perched atop her nose, book in hand. Her skin would be grey beneath the layers of powder applied by the mortician’s hand and her eyes made of hard glass. Apprehensively, Dani glanced over her shoulder and held her breath.

The room was empty. The toys hanging over Mikey’s crib rotated slowly in place as though a lazy hand had given them a push. Light reflected from the plastic pieces like gleaming sunspots against the wall. Telling her racing heart that she was being foolish, Dani quickly left the room.

“Nan’s gone,” she said again more firmly this time, striding down the hallway and back towards the kitchen. “She’s gone.”

“Not gone,” he said.

In the kitchen, Jamie was checking a piece of pasta to see if it was cooking by taking a bite of it, the long spaghetti trailing from her mouth and onto her chin. She looked around when Dani and Mikey came into the room. Steam roiled over the pot of pasta, and the pot full of sauce slowly simmered away.

Jamie stirred at the sauce, chewing as she said, “You promised me two hours, mate. That was not two hours.”

“I’m not tired,” Mikey said, scowling as he continued to rub at his face with his balled up fist.

Jamie snorted. “Well, that’s a damn dirty lie.”

“You almost done?” Dani asked.

“Nearly.” Jamie tapped the wooden spoon against the side of the pot. “Just need another few minutes.”

“That’s okay. Mikey and I can fold laundry while we wait. Can’t we?” The last Dani directed at him, and he nodded.

Jamie’s lips pursed. She frowned at the stack of dishes that Dani had already cleaned and left to dry on a spare towel spread across the bench top.

Before she could protest, Dani carried Mikey out into the living room and set him down on the carpet between the couches. She sat beside him and reached for the first piece of clean laundry that had been unceremoniously dumped atop one of the couches.

“Like this.” Dani demonstrated the folding of a shirt. Then she handed another shirt to him.

He took it and mustered all two years of fine motor skills in an ultimately futile attempt which ended up with a crumpled lump of fabric on the ground. Dani watched this with amusement, taking the shirt back and folding it properly.

“We’ll work on it,” she told him with a smile, handing him the folded shirt. “Can you stack it atop that one for me?”

Mikey grabbed the shirt and dropped it atop the other folded shirt, leaving only a few wrinkles in his wake. They continued on this way, Dani folding clothes and Mikey piling them up – he particularly seemed to enjoy making a pyramid of socks – until he inevitably grew bored and began looking around for something else to occupy him.

“Hey, Mikey,” she said. “Do you wanna help me sort these? They should go by color.”

When she pushed a basket full of clothesline pegs towards him, Mikey immediately reached for the colorful array. Dani continued folding as he jumbled the clothes pegs around and picked through them, focusing on the ones that were bright red the most.

“Can you put them like this? See?” Dani grabbed a few blue ones and placed them on the floor together, then did the same with a handful of green ones.

He seemed only mildly interested in what she was doing, still gathering red pegs in his lap.

“Get me another blue one,” she encouraged, gesturing with a pair of folded jeans towards the little blue pile she had made.

Pausing in his pursuit of everything red within reach, Mikey glanced where she had indicated. When he grabbed the right color from the basket, she cheered and held up a hand for a high-five. Instead, he blinked at her and pushed the blue clothesline peg into her hand as though she had asked for it, leaving her with her hand outstretched holding onto it.

“Well,” Dani said, placing the peg back into the pile with the others. “Thanks. I really needed that.”

She had nearly finished folding the last of the laundry by the time Jamie called out that dinner was ready. When Dani went to pick up Mikey however, he wanted nothing of it, insisting upon walking to the kitchen, where he then refused to be seated at the table with them.

Jamie, already digging into a plate of pasta, shrugged at him while she chewed. “Up to you, mate,” she said. “More food for us, then.”

Dani sat at the table, clearing a place for her own plate and twirling pasta around a fork. On the other hand, Mikey seemed more than happy to be in the kitchen with them without eating. He wandered and Jamie largely ignored him in favor of focusing on her dinner, until Mikey started towards the stove.

“No,” Jamie shot to her feet, fork clattering to the table. She darted across the kitchen and grabbed him, ignoring his whine of complaint. “What did I tell you about the stove? Hey. No.”

He tried to yank his arm away, but he wasn’t strong enough to break Jamie’s grasp. She let him go, shooing him back towards the table. With a petulant glower in her direction, Mikey trotted back out into the living room. Dani watched as Jamie sank back into her seat with a sigh and began picking at her food again.

“I don’t remember him being quite so –” Dani sought the right word and said, “- wilful.”

Jamie snorted. “Yeah. You’ve been away for a while.”

In truth it hadn’t been that long. And it wasn’t for lack of trying. All through the summer Jamie hardly seemed to leave the railway cottage unless absolutely necessary. Dani visited whenever she could get away from school or her mother. It just so happened that it most often involved sneaking out at night and rapping softly at Jamie’s window so as not to wake Mikey. An hour or two clutching a mug of tea with Jamie at midnight, but trying to get Jamie to talk these days was like pulling teeth.

There was a clattering sound from the other room, and both of them tensed. But then Mikey dragged the laundry basket into the doorway, trailing colorful plastic pegs in his wake like a trail of breadcrumbs. He sat on the floor and began arranging the pegs in an order that must have made sense to him but had little rhyme or reason beyond that.

“I still think you should move in with Judy,” Dani said, returning to her meal. “Or something.”

“Yeah. Or something,” Jamie repeated darkly. She stabbed at her plate of pasta with her fork.

Lowering her voice and casting Mikey a furtive glance, Dani said, “You can’t keep doing this, Jamie.”

Jamie continued to eat as though she hadn’t heard, focused entirely on her food.

“I know they gave you special time off for bereavement with the new year starting at school, but I haven’t seen you on campus in weeks. People are starting to ask me questions.”

At that Jamie went very still. She chewed slowly, swallowing a mouthful, and then said, “And what do you tell them?”

Blinking in surprise at the sudden shift in tone – low, almost dangerous – Dani leaned back in her seat. “Nothing.”

Jamie gave her a hard, significant look.

“Nothing,” Dani insisted. “I just say that you’re –” She gestured to Jamie, trailing off.

Jamie’s hand tightened around her fork, knuckles going white, but her voice was far too even, her expression terrifyingly blank. “That I’m what?”

“Taking care of things,” said Dani. “That you need more time.”

Jamie stared at her and the only noise to be heard was the sound of plastic clattering against linoleum as Mikey played in the kitchen doorway. Finally she rasped, “That all?”

“What?”

“Is that all? You don’t tell them about – about this?” She gestured, a short sharp movement, towards the cluttered kitchen, towards herself, towards her brother on the floor, who seemed to be completely oblivious to the fact that any sort of serious conversation was taking place.

Dani’s mouth felt dry. She opened her mouth to speak, but had to swallow, to clear her throat and shake her head. “No.”

Jamie’s eyes were hard and stormy, her jaw squared, shoulders hunched.

Feeling a prickle of irritation, Dani met her glare for glare. “What do you think I’m going to say?” she asked. “Why don’t you want my help? Or anyone’s help?”

“You don’t know,” Jamie said, voice trembling. “You don’t know shit.”

But Dani continued, ignoring the warning flush in Jamie’s cheeks. “I know that you can’t keep doing this alone. I know that Nan’s bank accounts won’t last forever. I know that you can’t live off of pasta and eggs until you’re eighteen.”

There was an eerie stillness to Jamie’s face, to her hands. Dani was always so used to seeing her in motion – constant idle movement – that seeing Jamie hold herself absolutely still felt like being suddenly faced with a statue. And when Jamie spoke next, it was too calm, too collected. “I have a plan. I can make this all work, and –”

“Jamie –” Dani started to say.

“- And you need to mind your own bloody business,” Jamie snapped. “For once.”

The words lingered in the air, hanging between them. Taken aback, Dani stared. Their plates were barely touched. Outside, the sun was swiftly drifting towards the horizon. She would need to start heading home soon, otherwise her mother would start asking questions, would start looking for her over at Judy’s house when Dani didn’t show up before nightfall. And yet she remained frozen in her seat, watching Jamie return to her food with the tired, frightened solemnity of someone who hadn’t slept properly in God only knows how long.

“I don’t need your help,” Jamie said. “I can do this. I can – I can fix this.”

Dani did not refute her. She didn't need to.

Jamie continued to miss school. Everyday Dani looked for her, even the barest glimpse of her, as she walked around campus, around town, and drowned in the worry that festered inside of her. She rang the rail cottage’s phone. Jamie never answered. And Dani couldn’t convince herself to walk over to Jamie’s house alone. Not after last time.

She kept collecting Jamie’s homework from the teacher, telling him that she would deliver it. The next day she would bring it back with all the answers written in her left hand, hoping this would fool him long enough into thinking that Jamie wasn’t completely absent. If he noticed, he did not say anything. For once, Dani prayed the public school system’s general apathy would work in her favor. Still, every time she turned in two sets of homework, she could feel her stomach writhe like a pit of snakes, watching her teacher shuffle through the pages, nearly sick with the idea of her deceit being unearthed.

She had never been a good liar.

“How’s Jamie been, honey?” Judy asked.

Dani froze. Like so many days before, she was at the O’Mara’s house. It was a weekend. Mike had taken Eddie to play a game of baseball, and Carson was banging away on a drum kitset in the garage, and Tommy and David were at college already, barely ever around apart from on holidays. Which left Dani alone in the kitchen with Judy, sipping lemonade and talking about nothing.

Clearing her throat, Dani lowered her drink, the glass sweating with condensation. Ice clinked. “I actually haven’t seen her that recently,” Dani admitted after a moment. “Last time I went over to her place was about two weeks ago.”

Judy frowned. “That’s very unlike you. Did you two -?”

When Judy made a gesture, Dani shook her head. “No. We - Everything’s fine. She just - She’s sad. That’s all. She’s doing her best.”

“Mmm,” Judy hummed contemplatively and rapped her fingers against the benchtop. For a moment she gazed off into the middle distance before she spoke again, “I’m worried. Has her family been in touch? Anyone from back across the pond, I mean?”

This was a trap. There was no good answer. Dani felt her mouth move as though of its own accord and the words slipped from her. “I don’t know,” she said faintly.

Judy was watching her intently. Had she always had such discerning eyes? Perhaps it was the natural state of being a mother, Dani thought, knowing when a child of yours was telling only partial truths.

“You would tell me,” Judy said, her tone as earnest as her expression, “if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”

The breath caught in Dani’s chest, trapped there as though by a rope squeezing around her neck and forcing the air back down into her lungs. She could not look away. Slowly, Judy reached out and gently placed a hand over hers, making Dani tense.

She shouldn’t say anything. She should keep her mouth shut. She should fabricate some half-truth.

“Danielle?” Judy said, voice soft and lilting upwards in a question, prompting her.

“I think,” Dani licked her lips, clenching her hand into a trembling fist, heart hammering in her chest. “I think Jamie needs help.”

Dani had to divert all the attention away from Jamie somehow. At every turn she engaged Judy and Mike and Karen and her teachers and the school principal. They asked about Jamie and she tried to be charming. She tried to be disarming. She smiled as broadly as possible. She told of times she visited Jamie as though backdating forged documents.

Because Jamie was fine. Everything, she told them, was perfectly fine.

It wasn’t until Eddie and Carson started angling to see her that Dani realised just how much this plan had backfired.

Judy volunteered to drive the three of them to the old railway cottage, even though Eddie complained the whole time that he could drive them and that she needn’t have bothered. “You’re not the only one who misses Jamie, Edmund,” said Judy.

Eddie huffed in the front passenger seat and leaned his elbow on the car windowsill. “She said she was going to watch the world cup with me and then missed Argentina versus the Netherlands,” he mumbled sullenly.

From where Dani sat in the backseat, Judy’s face was but a visible strip in the rearview mirror like a cross section. She noticed Dani watching and smiled. Dani beamed in return until her cheeks ached, while her stomach did somersaults somewhere between her ribs.

Carson leaned forward, gripping the back of the driver’s seat and poking across the center console at his brother. “Hey, change the station.”

“Not on your life.”

“Mom, make him change the station.”

“Change the station, Eddie.”

“Mom!”

The moment the car slowed and pulled up to the curb outside of Jamie’s house, Dani had already unbuckled her seatbelt and was opening the door before Judy could cut the engine. “I’ll get her!” Dani said, overly bright. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

She was faint with relief when none of the others stopped her. She had been convinced Eddie or Carson would bound along beside her, insisting on greeting Jamie for the first time in a month. Instead, Dani hurried past the unkempt front lawn and towards the steps leading to the door. The grass had grown past her ankles. A quick glance towards the side of the house proved that the lock on the shed was still tightly bound and going to rust.

Standing on the front step, swallowing down a swell of nausea, Dani knocked sharply on the door. Then she waited, wringing her hands together and casting surreptitious looks over her shoulder back towards the car, hoping beyond hope that nobody would step out and see through the illusion.

Footsteps from within the house, and the front door yanked open. Jamie frowned at her from behind the screen in suspicious bewilderment.

“Poppins, what -?”

“We’re here to take you out for lunch,” Dani announced with a wave of her hand towards the street.

With a weary sigh, Jamie pulled open the screen door as well. The flannel shirt was half untucked from her jeans, and her hair looked like it was in desperate need of a brush more than usual. “I know you don’t believe me, but I have -”

Before Jamie could finish, Dani lowered her voice furtively and said, “You need to be seen. Just - Just for the afternoon. Please? They’re starting to figure out that I’m - Well, that I’m bad at lying.”

Jamie’s eyes darted to the car over Dani’s shoulder, to where Judy and Eddie and Carson were waiting. The radio was still blaring loudly with Carson’s preferred station. Eddie had his nose buried in a book, and Carson was half leaning out the window to wave and call out to Jamie from the street, gesturing for her to join them. Judy, on the other hand, was tapping at the steering wheel and tonguing the inside of her cheek as she studied the cottage intently, her brows furrowed.

“I can’t -” Jamie started to say.

“You can bring Mikey,” Dani interrupted, still keeping her voice low, but with every word Jamie just shook her head, eyes shut, expression resigned. “Judy said she’d look after him for a few hours while you hang out with us.”

“Dani,” said Jamie more firmly this time. She leaned her forehead against the edge of the screen door and exhaled. “Just -” she opened her eyes and straightened. “Just tell them that I can’t make it because I’m driving to Des Moines with Mikey to meet an uncle tonight.”

Dani blinked. “Are you?”

Rather than answer, Jamie gave her a look. It was almost guilty. Mostly it was just tired.

Chewing at her lower lip, Dani nodded and looked away. Her hands were balled up into fists at her side, and she started when she felt a warm touch at the knuckle of her thumb tucked away. Gently Jamie urged her fingers to unclench. Behind her the house was dark and silent. More than anything Dani wanted to push her way inside, grab Mikey with one hand and Jamie in the other, and drag them both away. Away from this house. Away from the weight of its shingles groaning over them. Away from the bedroom still festooned with a dead woman’s things, as though she would be back any second, as though she had never really gone.

Jamie squeezed her hand. “Bring me back something, yeah? Make sure it’s tomorrow. Otherwise they’ll suspect.”

“Tomorrow?” Dani repeated. Less a question and more a confirmation.

“Tomorrow,” Jamie said.

Reluctant, Dani let go. She turned to leave, stopped, then faced Jamie again on a lower step. “Are you sure?”

Jamie watched her with an expression Dani could not even begin to describe. And somehow through it all Jamie managed a smile. “Yeah,” she said, hand drifting to the door. “You guys go on without me.”

The next day Dani walked to Jamie’s house, for she still did not have a bicycle of her own. She could have asked to borrow Eddie’s bike or even Carson’s, except then one or both of them would insist upon accompanying her to wherever she wanted to go. Always so eager to tag along in her presence regardless of where it was she went. After the last failed attempt however, Dani could not imagine showing up on the steps of the railway cottage with a whole host behind her. So, she walked alone.

The nights had grown brisk through the end of summer and the trees bristled with russet hues. Dani tucked her chin into the scarf around her neck and slipped her hands beneath her arms as she walked. It was the same scarf Jamie had given her at Christmas years ago. When it had begun to fray at the edges, Karen had attempted to throw it out, but Dani had rescued it – as she so often did with items her mother found lying about and deemed unsuitable for further use. Dani had long since grown accustomed to hiding precious things where Karen would be least likely to find them. Beneath rows of neatly folded sweaters. Between the pages of books arrayed on a bookshelf. Behind false panels in the back of her closet.

It was not dark – not yet – but there was the illusion of darkness. Every house Dani passed was illuminated from within, their windows squares of amber light washing warmly into the bluish air. Dusk was thick and fast upon them, heralding the coming night. She picked up her pace, the sounds of her footsteps oddly loud against the lined pavement, flanked on one side by the tarmac and by faded lawns on the other. Her mother was out on a date tonight in another town over, and Dani knew from past experience that she did not need to hurry home. Karen would not be back until late.

Perhaps, she thought to herself, she could bum a ride from Jamie. Perhaps, if she were very lucky, she could coax Jamie into letting her stay. Not much coaxing was required. Usually. Lately however, this was not the case. Lately, Dani was lucky if she caught a glimpse of her at the grocery store, looking harried, movements furtive, hands jammed into bulging pockets.

Dani slowed her approach, footsteps coming to an uneven halt. Of all the houses on the street, Jamie’s was the only one with dark windows. She frowned. Then, glancing around, she walked briskly towards the front door and knocked.

“Jamie?” she called out, her knuckles rapping against the door, over and over again. “It’s me! I’m back! Jamie?”

No response. No sounds of muffled footsteps or the radio or Mikey’s crying – the kind he always made when he’d been woken from a shallow sleep. Dani leaned to one side in order to peer through the nearest window, but the blinds had been drawn and she could see nothing but the silhouette of familiar clutter within. Shapes in the encroaching dark, static in the shadows.

Turning, Dani slowly made her way back to the sidewalk. There she sank down and sat on the edge of the pavement, arms wrapped around her knees. She wished she had brought a hat, something to keep her ears warm. Her gaze sought out any hints around the street.

The truck was still parked not far off. Jamie must have decided to go for a walk. It had happened once or twice in the past, Jamie pushing Mikey along in a pram that had a radio tucked into it playing music as they strolled along a sun-drenched street. Jamie was out for a walk. Jamie had gone to the corner store or the gas station. Jamie would be back any moment.

A car rumbled around a corner and instinctively Dani’s head perked up. Headlights peered down the road like a pair of eyes, luminous. The car pulled into a neighbour’s driveway and Dani sank back down where she sat, idly watching a father of three instruct his kids to help him bring grocery bags inside.

Restless and uncertain, Dani stood. She made her way around the back of the railway cottage, carefully stepping over the flowerbeds and around the hedges that Jamie had once so carefully maintained but which had since gone to seed. Deftly ignoring the broken bike half buried in overgrown weeds, she climbed the porch and lifted herself up on her toes trying to see into one of the kitchen windows, but the lacey curtains Nan had preferred mostly obscured the piles of dishes in the sink and on the bench. Dani cocked her head and made a soft noise of puzzlement at the sight of an undrunk cup of tea on the small dining table crammed into the kitchen.

After hesitantly knocking once again at the window this time, Dani wandered over to the old tire swing that still hung from the tree after so many years. She could remember so clearly the second time they had put it up as she slipped her legs through one at a time in order to sit. Her arms draped over the top of the tire. One hand curled around the rope keeping it up, and she rested her chin atop the other. With the heel of her shoe, she rocked herself gently back and forth, keeping a watchful eye on the house, ears pricked, alert, waiting for the slightest hint of Jamie’s return.

From the next lot over, Dani could hear a back door sliding open. She blinked in that direction but soon turned her attention back to the house. The sounds of rustling as a dog was let out to race around a back lawn. A man wearing a baseball cap calling out after the animal. He looked over, saw her sitting on the swing, and seemed startled.

“What the hell are you doing over there at this hour?” he asked.

For all the time spent at Jamie’s house, Dani did not know the neighbors well. They had a habit of high turnover at this end of town, at least by North Liberty’s standards. The two knew of each other, but did not know each other beyond brief acquaintances that sometimes exchanged awkward waves in passing. Once she had taken over a tray of baking, and his wife had kindly given her a cup of lemonade in their kitchen, but that was the extent of it.

Still rocking slightly back and forth, Dani pointed towards the cottage and said, “Waiting. Have you seen Jamie today?”

For some reason that gave him pause. From this distance she could not clearly see the expression on his face, but he appeared frozen for a moment until his dog came racing up to him, tail wagging. He gave it an absent-minded pat on the head before shooing it away.

“Didn’t you hear?”

“Hear what?”

“Oh, geeze.” He took off his hat to rub a hand over the dark stubble of his hair. “I don’t know how to break it to you kid, but –” Using his hat to make a helpless little gesture towards Jamie’s house, he said, “She’s gone. Her and the boy. Child protective services came ‘round.”

Dani stared at him for a long moment. The sound of the dog barking at something in the distance startled her, made her sit up straighter and ask, “What? When?”

He shrugged and slapped the baseball cap back onto his head. “This afternoon. Or so the missus tells me.”

Dani slowly turned her gaze back towards the house. That couldn’t be right. Something like that couldn’t have happened so fast. There were still things inside the house. All of Nan’s things and Jamie’s, too. Jamie would have told her. Jamie would have rung, she would have left a note or a – a clue. Something.

“Hey, do you need a ride?” the neighbour asked cautiously. “You live on the other side of town, right? Is someone coming to get you?”

Feeling faint and illusory, as though even the slightest stir of the air would pass right through her, Dani shook her head. “No,” she said, and her voice sounded like it was spoken from miles away. “No, I’m – Nobody’s coming.”

He spoke to her again, but she didn’t hear. The swing stilled beneath her. Overhead the first few stars dotted the heavens, and the old tree bough creaked. She sat, hands twisted around the rope, staring at the porch and waiting for the light to flash – on and off and on and off – waiting to be called home.

#bring home a haunting #damie #thobm #the haunting of bly manor #dani clayton/jamie #roman writes #ok THIS is the longest chapter #ignore the others

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