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rpsocsandcanonohmy · 3 years

Text

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

This is part of an ongoing story that can be read here on AO3. Reading the previous chapters is highly reccomended for context. This chapter has been posted here for Whumptober 2021 and @whumptober-archive

Day 9: Rumors of my Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated

A/N: Massive thank you to my amazing beta @welcome-to-the-sin-zone andto @thinkinghardhardlythinking for the initial inspiration for this story.

TW: Suicide, Implied Character Death, Massive Angst

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[Text to: Duke]: Hey

[Text to: Duke]: You haven’t responded to anything I’ve sent so either they’re not letting you use your phone or you don’t want to answer

[Text to: Duke]: I wish you’d respond either way, since I don’t know where you are

[Text to: Duke]: I miss you. Things haven’t been getting easier around here. I wish I could talk to you for real

Your texts went unanswered, as usual. It had been almost a month since the arrest and, despite your best efforts, you had no idea where Duke was being held or if he was still alive or anything. It was like he dropped off the face of the Earth.

Meanwhile, you were back on the ranch. The money you’d won did help, more than you’d initially thought even. But it didn’t fix everything. And, as much as you hated to think it, you were really considering selling some land without Dad’s say so because he was getting very, very annoying with his insistence that there just had to be another way to solve your problems. Selling horses was all well and good but there weren’t major profits to make from it. Renting the land was an option but it wasn’t very good for farming and ranchers don’t rent anything. You didn’t have nearly enough staff to run any kind of camp or lessons. You were running out of ideas and nothing you said seemed to get through to him. And the worst part of it all?

Duke was gone. He’d only really been in your life for about half a year but that meant the world to you all the same. He’d been a listening ear and a source of support where there hadn’t been one before. It didn’t hurt that he was attractive and very good in bed but that wasn’t all you cared about. For a few months, you’d had someone to be there for you, someone you could lean on when you wanted or needed to, and that was amazing. But you didn’t have him anymore and your world seemed a lot lonelier than before.

“Y/N! Where are you?! We got shit to do around here, you know!”

You sighed and slipped your phone into your pocket. Dad was getting more irritable these days and he was right; you didn’t have time for wallowing.

“Coming….”

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[Text to: Rotten Bastard]: Maybe it’s better I don’t know where you are. I want to punch you right now

[Text to: Rotten Bastard]: My period was a week late and you really had me nervous

[Text to: Rotten Bastard]: Not that it would have mattered if I was pregnant. I don’t want kids and right now, I really don’t want yours

[Text to: Rotten Bastard]: If you do see these, I hope you thank your lucky stars I can’t reach your dumbass

After about a month, you’d gotten over the sadness and made your way to anger. How could he do this to you? How could he make that promise, taking you to dinner after your win, knowing how unlikely it would be for him to fulfill it? How dare he lead you on and make you think any of it was real? How fucking dare he ignore you?

You’d managed to turn your anger into something productive and channeled it into finding these fabled paths of medical-debt forgiveness. Who knew pure rage was enough to get you through hours of sitting on hold and dodging red tape bullets? Because you were angry. You were angry at Duke for leaving, your dad for being a stubborn mule, your siblings for being unhelpful, the world for being a goddamn fuck-fest, your life in general at the moment, etc.

Anyway, you'd managed to get a lot of those hospital bills forgiven and that was something to be happy about. There was still some left on the tab of course but it was more manageable. If only you could do that with the bank debts now looming over your head….

You were worried about your dad too. Good days were few and far between as the revenue slowed but the bills didn't change. With rodeo season ended, there wouldn't be more quick fixes for your finances for a while and that had both of you on edge. Add that to the looming reality that he'd have to sell some of his land to make it out of this year alright and…. Well, you could only imagine what was going through his head.

Plus...the anniversary of your mother's death was nearing. He always got more than a little down at this time of year and it made you nervous. He’d never admit he was having problems, but you could always see it. It’s part of why you always went with him when he visited Mom’s grave.

“Hey, Dad,” you said as he entered the kitchen one morning. “When do you want to head out?”

“Head out where?” he grumbled as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“To see Mom.”

He set the coffee pot down and took a long drink from his mug. “I’m not going this year.”

“I-Okay. If that’s what you want….” You chewed your lip. “Will you be okay around here if I go ahead?”

“Yep.”

You weren’t sure if you believed him or not but going to see her grave was a yearly tradition that you weren’t ready to let go of. Besides, you could use someone to talk to after everything. “Okay. I’ll probably go out after lunch then?”

“Whatever makes you happy, sweetheart. I love you.”

You smiled softly. “I love you too.”

You went out after lunch that day and spent a few lovely hours talking with your mom. Even if she couldn’t physically be there, you knew she was listening. You felt her warmth in the sunlight and heard her laugh in the breeze. It had been a long time since you let yourself feel this content with the way things were. Sure, they weren’t great. But they would get better. “This too shall pass”, right? You came back home feeling much lighter than you had that morning.

You didn’t think anything of it when you noticed Dad wasn’t in the house at first. It was still a while until dinner time and there was plenty of work to be done. You didn’t worry until it started to get dark and there was still no sign of him. Phone calls went unanswered and he wasn’t within yelling distance of the house, so you took Phillip and headed deeper into the property.

You found him about half an hour later. He was under the oak tree he and Mom had planted when they first got married almost 40 years ago. He almost looked peaceful, sitting against the trunk. If it weren’t for all the blood or the gun in his hand, he might’ve looked like he was taking a nap.

You don’t know how long you just sat there and stared. At some point, you got down and took a step towards him, only to crumple to your knees and sob. Phillip stayed with you, nuzzling your face gently as the tears flowed down your face.

It was a very long time before you found the strength to stand.

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[Text to: Please Answer]: If I knew where you were, I would’ve gotten you out so just to have you here with me

[Text to: Please Answer]: Despite everything, I’d feel better if you were here. All I can think about is you hugging me or letting me curl up in your lap or even just standing near me.

[Text to: Please Answer]: I’d hate you for making me miss you all over again but I just miss you too much

“Who’s that?”

You jumped and dropped your phone at the sound of your sister’s voice so close to you ear. “Sophie, hey,” you said. “I- When did you get here?”

“Just a few minutes ago; David already took me around but we couldn’t find you,” she explained. “Who were you texting just now?”

How could you even begin to explain who Duke Culpepper was? “I- No one. You wouldn’t know him….”

She clearly didn’t want to accept that answer but your dad’s funeral was hardly the time to needle you for answers about anything. “How are you, Y/N?” she asked instead.

You shrugged. “I’m… I’m awful,” you replied honestly. “I- First it was Mom and then the ranch started going down and now Dad…. I have no idea how I’m gonna pay for this funeral or if Dad had a will or anything I’m- I- I don’t know what I’m doing.” It wasn’t like you to open up like this, even with your siblings, but after keeping it bottled up for so long you needed an outlet.

She nodded and pet your shoulder sympathetically. “I had a feeling. SO I’m gonna stick around for a bit and keep you company. Daniel will too. At least until we get everything settled and we know you’re going to be okay.”

Ordinarily, you’d get defensive about the idea that you wouldn’t be able to handle yourself, that you were just the little kid that needed looking after. But after recent events, you were glad for the offer. You knew the house would just feel too empty and big and scary with no one else in it and you didn’t even want to think about the ranch work. “Speaking of Daniel, where is he? I haven’t seen him since he got here….”

Sophie looked around. “Probably the kitchen. I’ll go get him and then we can start figuring out how to get these people out of here so we can have some proper mourning time. Will you be okay by yourself for a few minutes?”

You nodded. When she was gone, you reached for your phone to keep texting a number you knew wouldn’t answer but paused when someone else approached you. “Little Y/N?”

You looked up to see Abeline Walker. “Oh, hi. Yes, it’s me. Thank you for coming.” Abilene was an old friend of your mother’s, though you hadn’t seen her much in the last few years. It was understandable, given what her family had been dealing with lately. You knew her husband also had some dealings with your father, though you rarely saw him outside of business.

SHe smiled kindly. “Of course. I’m sorry about your father. He was a good man. I didn’t spend much time with him but your mother loved him to death and Bonham spoke highly of him.”

“That’s kind of you to say,” you murmured. Your dad was a good man, regardless of his stubbornness or his recent mental health issues. “Is Bonham here?”

She nodded. “Yes, he’s somewhere here. Oh, speaking of…” Abilene gently grasped your hand. “I want you to know that if you ever need anything, you can come to us. We’re just on the other side of the creek, practically neighbors.”

You nodded, a small smile pulling at your lips. “Thank you; that means a lot.”

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[Text to: Duke Culpepper, RIP]: I don’t know why I bother

[Text to: Duke Culpepper, RIP]: You never answer. You don’t give me read receipts. I have no idea if you’ve even seen these.

[Text to: Duke Culpepper, RIP]: And you’ll definitely never read these. Because you died. In a shoot out with the FBI. After you, apparently, got out of prison. Without telling me. And then you died.

[Text to: Duke Culpepper, RIP]: I heard about it on Twitter

[Text to: Duke Culpepper, RIP]: How fucked up is that?

[Text to: Duke Culpepper, RIP]: I went from waking up next to you, to hearing about you from second-hand sources

[Text to: Duke Culpepper, RIP]: Do you do that to all the girls or am I just special?

A knock sounded on your door and you closed the pointless chat on your phone just in time for David to open the door. “You know, most people wait for an invitation before they enter a room,” you muttered as he entered.

“Older brother privileges,” he responded, setting a bowl of cereal on your night stand. “Do you feel like getting out of bed today?”

“Not particularly….”

He sighed and grabbed the stool from your vanity, pulling it over to the bed for what was definitely a Talk. “I...I know our relationship has been...strained over the years. You and Dad were always closer to each other than you were to me and Sophie and you were definitely more attached to this place than we ever could be. And…. Maybe I could’ve been nicer about the financial situation here. But- Look, Dad’s lawyer is coming by later to go over the will and we’d like it if you joined us.”

So there was a will. “I’ll be there.”

“I- Okay. I’ll see you there.” David left you alone until the lawyer came. You didn’t touch your cereal. You used the time to do some secret mourning for a man no one knew about. If Sophie and David found it odd that you didn’t bother wiping the tear tracks off your face when you came down to meet the lawyer, they didn’t say anything.

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[Text to: Duke]: You know, I always thought about inviting you back here. Even with the arrest, I figured I could talk my Dad into giving you a job here. You were really good at clearing out stalls lol

[Text to: Duke]: I guess now I wouldn’t need Dad’s permission since he left it all to me. I could just hire you myself. Then again, I’d probably just be walking into an HR nightmare….

[Text to: Duke]: Jk

[Text to: Duke]: We don’t have HR ;)

Dad had left almost everything he had to you. He left you the land, the house , the business account, almost all of the money, even his old knick knacks. He split the rest of the money between David and Sophie and lef them a few of the things Mom left with him. Sophie got Mom’s wedding dress and David got her old sewing machine. You were just glad your siblings weren’t bugged by how little they got in comparison

Of course, it’s possible they were just glad they didn’t get the burden of responsibility for the mess your dad left. Things may have been worse than you thought; apparently, Dad had taken some money and played with the stock market. It had not gone well. You had to admire his attempt to help out without losing the things that meant the most to him, even if he didn’t really know what he was doing.

Unfortunately, it meant finishing this year out of the red was going to be a challenge, assuming it was even possible. You considered reaching out to David or Sophie but you weren’t sure if you really wanted to talk to them. After they went back to their respective lives, you felt reluctant to reach out. You loved them but it seemed like you really only ever talked with each other when things weren’t going well. Not anyone’s fault, just the way the chips fell. It sure left you feeling lonely though.

Abilene Walker’s words from the funeral came back to you suddenly. Could you....? No. They had enough of their own problems lately. Besides, you doubted they had much extra funds. They were ranchers too and even if they would be understanding, you couldn’t ask them to potentially dig themselves into a hole just to get you out of yours.

Still…. Maybe you could just reach out? Start a friendly conversation? Just...talk to someone? It might help you feel better to send a message to someone and actually hear back.

You called Abilene later that day. She didn’t answer but you left a voicemail asking if you could meet for lunch one day. You felt a little better once that was done.

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[Text to: Duke]: I can’t believe I still do this

[Text to: Duke]: Almost feels like I’m cheating on Abby, if I’m honest

[Text to: Duke]: Anyway

[Text to: Duke]: I’m selling the ranch. I don’t want to and I know Dad’s probably rolling in his grave right now. But I can’t keep this up anymore. The money’s not enough to cover the bills and the debts and everything. If I’m being honest, it’s either this or losing it to the bank.

[Text to: Duke]: Good news is, I’m selling it to people I trust. Fun fact: a good chunk of the land here used to belong to the Walkers before they had to sell land during the depression. Found that out when I was going through old records. Fun stuff.

[Text to: Duke]: I’m heading over there today to sign the papers and everything. I’ll let you know how it goes.

[Text to: Duke]: Christ. Maybe I should invest some of the leftover money in a therapist

You knocked on the door to the main house on the Walker property. You were surprised Abby and Bonham agreed to the sale so quickly, but apparently Bonham had been setting aside money to buy back the old Walker property for some time and he’d just been waiting for the opportunity. You were glad you could make the sale. You could clear out the remaining debts with the money and...figure out what to do with whatever you had leftover. Maybe you’d get a condo. No, wait, where would you put Phillip?

Whatever.

The paperwork was pretty straightforward. Bonham had his son, Liam, draw up everything properly. You just had to fill in the blanks on your side and sign your name and it would be done.

“What are you gonna do after this?” Bonham asked as you went over some of the fine print.

You shrugged. “I haven’t really thought about it much. Kind of just...taking it one step at a time, you know.”

He nodded. “Well…. If you’re up for it, I’m gonna need some extra hands handling the extra land. I’d be more than happy to give you a place here.”

The tears came as a surprise. It would be a dream to stay. Working on the ranch, being with Phillip, staying near the places you loved…. It was practically the perfect solution. “I- Thank you,” you whispered, fearful your voice would betray your emotions.

“Of course. Why don’t you-”

He was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. “Daddy? I know I have a level somewhere but I can’t find it. Do you- Oh, hey.”

You looked up and did a double take. Logically, you knew this was one of Bonham’s sons. But his face…. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say this was Duke Culpepper back from the dead. And with a decent haircut.

But...why did it look like he recognized you too?

“Hey, Cordell. This is Y/N; she’ll be working here on the ranch from here on out. I’ll get that level while you two get to know each other.” Bonham left you alone to ponder what exactly you were looking at.

It couldn’t be.

“Y/N...I can explain.”

Explain?

“I was going to tell you, after the rodeo. But things didn’t go as planned and it all got really complicated and I didn’t want you implicated so I blocked and deleted your number so no one would question you but I forgot to write it down and I never actually got your address and then it just felt like too long and-”

“Stop,” you whispered. You didn’t understand what you were hearing. Or maybe you did and you just didn’t like it. Because if you did understand it and it was true….

If it was true, Duke Culpepper wasn’t dead. He never existed at all. And yet here he was, right in front of you, alive and well and still so fucking gorgeous.

“Y/N-”

“I said, stop.” You pushed past him, only stopping when he grabbed your arm. You wrenched away from him and slapped his cheek. “Don’t. Just- Just don’t,” you hissed. Then you ran out the door.

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[Text from: Unknown]: Y/N I can explain

[Text from: Unknown]: Please just talk to me

[Text from: Unknown]: I didn’t want you to find out like this

[Text from: Unknown]: Y/N?

[Text to: Unknown]: Fuck you

[Text to: Unknown]: Just

[Text to: Unknown]: Fuck. You.

You turned off your phone and curled up on your bed, tears flowing unbidden from your face. You didn’t want to cry over that worthless piece of garbage. So you cried for yourself, for everything that you gave him, everything you’d never get back.

You deserved the tears more than he ever would.

#whumptober2021 #no.9 #rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated #walker #fic #suicide tw #death tw #depression tw #cordell walker x reader #angst #it's complicated with a capital c

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ill-skillsgard · 4 years

Text

Bred For Blood - Part 19 - Promise-Promise

Title: Bred For Blood

Warning: 18+ - sex/mature language & themes/gun violence/substance abuse etc. *mentions of coma/unconsciousness, injuries, and sex in this part*

Characters: AU Axel Cluney, AU Ivar Lothbrok, AU Valter x OC

Description: A bright, young survivor meets an acid-gun slinging headhunter with a knack for melting faces and connections to a prodigal Utopia embedded in the heart of a deadly forest. Violence and passion incite a battle of fealty while betrayal nips at Zed’s heels.

Note: Sooo many feelings in this part, you guys. Next part will be the finale! My gosh, it’s actually coming. Stick around because it’s gonna be a doozy! Much love to all the readers who’ve waited patiently and shout out to any new readers who’ve taken the time to let me know their thoughts. I appreciate all the comments and reblogs forever! With that being said, please comment and reblog. It’d really make my day. XO

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

Zed waited for Vee next to the window overlooking the vast green ocean of vegetation. The sliver of sun painted the sky aflush, rolling west in shades of violet. Pinprick stars perforated the melting spectrum, and the phantom moon showed its impatient face fully before the horizon swallowed all light. It was a soothing array of scenery, and Zed rested her head on the glass until footsteps drew her attention to the door. She smiled as Vee came in carrying a plate of zucchini fritters and mashed chickpeas, returning the warm greeting silently.

"Hungry? Axel wasn't a fan. He wants a cheeseburger from McDonald's," said Vee, handing the platter to Zed.

She accepted the dish with a nod. "Did you tell him why that's not possible?"

Vee sighed. The dark beneath his eyes seemed permanent now. "I didn't get into detail. He wouldn't understand."

"Shouldn't we make him understand?"

"It's too soon. The big lug just woke up. It was a challenge just to get him to lie there. Soon he'll want to leave the lab, and I don't know how he'll fare around his adoring fans."

Zed bit into a greasy fritter and scooped a dollop of the paste with the leftover crescent. "He'll love the ego-boost, I'm sure."

"That's what I'm afraid of. All those people will confuse him. Who knows what that might do to his head. We're in a delicate situation."

"Axel seems to like me. Maybe I can convince him to stay put."

Vee grimaced from the thought of Axel working Zed over with his motoring mouth and crass sense of humour. The scientist had grown accustomed to nights alone with her, cooking together and discussing their future. The night they'd spent alone in the greenhouse rang in his heart; the night he admitted his feelings and begged her to squash them. The thought of her alone with Axel picked a scab he didn't know he had.

"You're worried about something," Zed said.

Vee snapped from his bittersweet reverie and sighed. "Am I ever not worrying?"

"True," Zed snorted. "Now, eat. I can't finish this all myself."

The pair finished the plate before Vee set the dish aside and motioned her to the sofa.

"We need to talk about what we found in Glott's notes. I know we can't test this theory, but we should treat it as the truth," said Vee.

"Okay, well, if that's how we're approaching this D negative blood sample... What's the next step? We have no medical supplies. I checked the med tent in the courtyard for the third time just for fun."

"Then we have to visit Glott and get some answers. And by we... I mean me."

"Valter—"

"I know you don't want me to leave, but what other option do we have? Every day we waste here is another step backward."

Zed shook her head until a thin braid dislodged from behind her ear and swung in her face. Vee resisted the urge to tuck it back. The girl's face swivelled toward the window, and she pondered and watched the premature stars twinkle across the bruised sky.

"We go together," Zed said firmly. "I won't budge on that."

"And what about Axel?"

"We wait until he's better. We'll need him to navigate the way."

"And if he never recovers?" Vee asked.

"Then we go anyway. All three of us. We get Axel better, and we go together."

Vee inhaled through his nose as Zed screwed her eyes into his. When he nodded, a smile unfurled across her face, shadowed by the last drops of brassy sunlight.

"I hate this plan, but I suppose it's all we have," said Vee.

"Promise we'll all stick together."

"Of course, Lea. I won't leave without you guys. Promise."

"Promise-promise?"

"I double promise with a cherry on top. Stick a needle in my eye and call it macaroni."

Zed stifled laughter beneath her palm. "I think you've been hanging out with Sam too much."

"That, or I'm just tired."

"I'll let you sleep now. You look beat."

Vee twisted his mouth in lopsided agreement. "Yeah, you're right. I'm gonna hit the shower first. Unless you want to?"

"No, you go ahead. I'll stay here a little longer," Zed said as she laid her temple against the cool glass and looked out over the forest floor, now drowning in the twilight.

~*~

In the morning, Zed left the apartment and padded down the hallway in her mismatched slippers. She slowed as she turned the corner and found the brothers talking. Axel's eyebrows were locked in a line, and Vee looked up at her with relief.

"Lea, can you help me explain to Axel why he can't leave the hospital room?"

Axel whipped the covers off his thighs. "This place is fuckin' weird, and I know you're lying to me. That doctor you had in here is a whack-job. Something isn't adding up."

"Stay put," Vee commanded.

Zed rubbed the sleep from her eyes and prepared to take both sides with a long breath. "Axel, your brother is right. You can't leave yet. Just stay a little longer and heal."

"Where the fuck am I, Vee? This isn't like any hospital I've ever been to. And why can't I use the phone to call mom and dad?"

Axel's question erased all the sleep Vee had gotten the night before. His fatigue was contagious. Zed approached the bed and brushed Axel's shoulder. The touch diffused the tension in his upper body and opened him up to a new explanation, one that hadn't come from his kid brother's mouth.

"There are no phones here, Axel. You're right... This place is different. We're missing a lot of things you’d consider normal."

"Look, darlin', I know you're just trying to make me feel better, but none of what you're saying makes any sense. What do you mean there's no phone? There's electricity, isn't there? So why can't I hobble my way to a pay phone or borrow someone's cell?"

Vee and Zed exchanged pained looks. The younger brother kneaded his brow and offered Axel the same explanation he had before, reworded. Axel refused to believe a word and scrambled off the gurney, throwing Vee's hands off him as he limped a few steps and realized his mistake.

"What the fuck is wrong with my foot? Did someone sliced my ankle in half? What is happening to me? I feel like I'm on an acid trip that never ends. I go to sleep and see crazy shit, only to wake up in an even crazier place where there're no phones and no fucking food! You're talking in goddamn riddles, Vee. The least you can do is get me a Baconator for my trouble! I can't walk—I can't even jerk off 'cause my good hand is fucked. You gotta help me out."

"How many times do I have to tell you, Axe? There are no restaurants!"

"Bullshit! Sweetheart, come on, you can help me, right? Can you please just grab me something greasy? I'll pay you back, I promise. I'm good for it."

"I wish I could help you, Axel, but Vee's right. There's nowhere to get stuff like that anymore."

"Anymore? What does that even mean? You guys are talking like I slept through the apocalypse or something!"

Zed turned to Vee, who blocked the way to the courtyard. "Come on, Axe. Just settle down, and get back into bed."

"Are you gonna find me some painkillers then?" Axel faltered toward the bed and hoisted himself onto the flat mattress with his right arm.

"I'll see what I can do, buddy, but will you promise to stay here for a little longer?"

"Whatever," Axel scoffed. "What else am I gonna do?"

Zed waited until Axel slid back under the covers and tilted his face away from them both to assess Vee's mood. She suspected Axel's recovery would be difficult. Still, when she pictured him with his eyes open again, she heard laughter and saw game nights, shared wine and inside jokes knitting them closer together—not disarray and a friend who'd forgotten her. And if Vee had left the day he championed himself, Axel wouldn't have any flagship of his past. The scientist's presence tranquillized her despite Axel's rotten mood fouling the atmosphere.

"You're hungry, Axel?" Zed asked.

"Starving."

"I'll try to track down something tasty to eat. It won't be a greasy burger, but maybe I can find you something close to fries. I'll make it myself if I have to."

Axel flipped his eyes to the girl standing with her arms knotted behind her back and smiled. "Oh, darlin'...You're a sweet thing. I'd hate to ask, so I'll just accept the offer. Or maybe Vee can go, and you and I can chat a little more?"

Zed chuckled at the man's slyness. "I have some other things to do. We’ll talk when I get back."

"Don't rush for me, honey, but if you do, I'll take it as a good sign," Axel said with a wink.

At the cost of one of her knit blankets, Zed found someone in Athena to chop and bake a sweet potato in peanut oil. She bartered for garlic and salt to sprinkle on the dish. The redheaded child spotted her making transactions and stopped her at the mouth of the Hives with a cloth of fermented cashew cheese and a large chunk of bread that sat out overnight but was still soft. She offered the foodstuffs to Axel on a thin wood slab, and he accepted with an obsequious grin. He relinquished his dissatisfaction and warmed next to Zed.

"Aw, darlin', look at you go. How can I thank you for your trouble?" Axel asked as he chomped a crispy strand of sweet potato.

Zed stepped back from his bed, blushing. "It's okay, Axel. You don't have to do anything but get better."

"Will you stay with me for a while? If I have to stay in bed, it'd really make my life easier if I have someone to talk to. That is if you don't mind my chattiness."

"Sure. Let me grab a chair from the apartment," said Zed.

Axel finished his meal quickly, and as if he hadn't eaten at all, felt the pang of hunger moments after the last bite of bread. His appetite woke up ravenous, and no amount of homegrown food could satiate the growl.

"I might need to eat again in an hour," Axel informed as Zed dragged the chair across the floor. “I’m a big boy, you know.”

"That's fine. I'll find you something in a little while ."

The injured man nodded and sighed, eyelashes fluttering over tired green eyes. A bloated silence proceeded, and Zed wondered how to initiate a conversation. Vee told her not to confuse Axel with present-day news, but all she wanted to do was ask about Richard Glott's underground bunker and with who he'd crossed paths that left him slashed and maimed.

After a couple of deep breaths, Axel murmured, "I see you in my dreams every time I fall asleep. Is that strange?"

Zed hid her shy smile behind her palm. "Oh, stop."

Axel shimmied his torso higher on the bed and frowned in pain. "No, seriously. Not trying to be slick, honey. I see the most fucked up things when I sleep. You know the kind of dreams so vivid, you wake up and your heart’s pounding, thinking it's all real for a minute? Then you're like... No way."

Zed shifted closer to Axel's bed. "What do you dream about?"

Axel smiled to himself. "You, mostly... Us. You and me doing crazy shit together. Sometimes I'm in the desert, and I see this airplane in the distance. It's on the ground, and I ride toward it, you know, you're not gonna ignore a crashed plane, right? Then I find you there, but these guys are hurting you, and you're going nuts trying to shake 'em, but there's too many, so I shoot 'em all, and they melt like popsicles. You stab one good, though."

"What else?" Zed asked.

"I dunno... Sometimes it's just me and you cruising through the desert, and I get the feeling you hate me, but I kinda like it. I'm happy you're there, even though we're in the middle of nowhere, and I have no idea what's gonna happen next."

"Sounds like some pretty weird dreams."

"They're so lucid. It's like a movie, and I'm the main character, and you're... Well, you. Like my cool sidekick."

"Sidekick, huh?" Zed scoffed.

"Yeah, you have this air about you that's like not to be fucked with. Then things always get real dark. I don't even want to tell you about it 'cause you'll think I'm fucked in the head."

Zed knew this part of the story and lowered her eyes to the floor. "It's okay. You can tell me if you want. It's just dreams, right?"

"Nah, I'll just leave it at that. It's not sex stuff or anything if you're wondering."

"Your dreams are more entertaining than anything I have going on today."

With Zed's green light, Axel inhaled deeply before launching into the story of their past. Before he uttered another syllable, a severed connection sparked in his head. His eyes grew large, and he looked around the makeshift hospital room, awestruck.

"In my dreams, we're trying to get to Vee. He needs us for some reason."

"What does he need?"

"Some science shit, which makes total sense because he's a scientist. He's actually a scientist, and not just in my dreams."

"Axel... These dreams you've had... Do you think they have significance?" Zed asked carefully.

"Totally. They have to. Right? Or am I fucking crazy?"

"You're not crazy, Axel. I promise."

"But what if I am? This place... I get such a bad feeling when I'm awake in this room by myself. Vee won't tell me where we are. It's like he's hiding something, and he never lies to me about anything. We don't do that."

"Vee just wants you to get better. He's under a lot of stress, and your recovery is a big part of that. We didn't think—he didn't think you'd make it through. Another complication is the last thing you guys need."

Axel went quiet again and fixated on the dust motes and bolts of lightning crackling up his leg. A storm grew behind his eyes, the same torrents Zed saw when she tried to stop him from leaving Kinderfeld and her behind. Sickened by the thought of Axel sneaking off, she touched his arm and offered a warm smile.

"Talk to me, Axel. Please. Don't keep anything inside."

Axel glanced at her small hand on his tattooed bicep and the lightning in his body faded.

"We were friends in a past life," Axel claimed.

"We're friends in this life."

"Can I tell you one other thing, then I promise I'll stop talking about my bonkers dreams?"

"Yes. I don't mind at all."

Axel curled his bicep and touched Zed's fingers, feeling the motion out until she grasped his hand.

"I think I have to take you somewhere."

"Oh, yeah?" Zed giggled. "And where's that?"

Axel blushed for the first time and brought her hand to hold next to him on the bed. "Not like on a date or anything. I just get this feeling that I'm supposed to protect you, even though you seem capable of looking after yourself just fine. This dream voice keeps reminding me to stay with you and Vee... Like I'm not allowed to let either of you out of my sight. Especially not you."

"Then don't," Zed said.

He squeezed her fingers gently. "I won't."

~*~

Word of Axel's consciousness seeped out of the lab and into the village. Nobody knew who had made the discovery—Vee blamed Samson while Zed suspected Nalani, who'd waltzed by the lab doors at a suspiciously slow pace several times each day—and leaked the information. They barred visitors and only allowed the doctor in to help change Axel's bandages until Ivar arrived.

Axel was alone, humming a tune from his teenage years when the king came through the doors and stopped to stare at his bed-ridden friend.

"Zee, you're awake? And no one thought to tell me?"

"Sorry, hombre, but I think you have the wrong room. Name's Axel."

Ivar flashed all his sharp teeth in a sly smile and wagged his finger. "Always a joker."

"No, really," Axel chuckled, then went deadpan. "Wait... Who are you?"

Before Ivar spoke, Vee walked into the lab and froze when he saw Ivar standing a few feet from Axel's bed.

"Ivar. I wasn't expecting you."

The king sneered and motioned toward Axel. "What's with this guy?"

"Hey, maybe we can talk for a second?" Vee invited Ivar down the hall, out of earshot.

Ivar glared at the scientist. "When exactly were you planning on telling me he woke up?"

"That's the thing, Ivar. You don't understand... Axel's suffering from amnesia. It's common for coma patients to lose parts of their memory. Right now, he's in a very touchy state. He has no idea where he is, who you are, or what any of this is. I've tried to keep people away from him to avoid confusion, but now everybody knows. It's not good for him. Subjecting him to all this new information can cause anxiety, panic... Who knows. We're trying to ease him back into life."

"What do you mean he doesn't know who I am? I'm his best friend."

"Trust me. Axel doesn't even remember serving in the army."

"That's crazy. We should tell him—"

"No. It's too big of a shock. Axel's already gone through hell. Imagine trying to explain our world to somebody who has virtually no idea what's happened in the last couple of years."

Ivar pondered and didn't respond to Vee's relief, then sighed as though he accepted the explanation.

"So what does this mean for you? I assume you're retracting your claim and staying in Kinderfeld?"

Vee twisted his mouth to the side. "How can I go now?"

"You volunteered."

"That was before Axel came home. He needs me. I'm the only person he recognizes. Give me some more time with him, get him back on his feet and see if he'll start remembering, then I'll go."

Ivar crossed his arms across his burly chest. "Who knows how long that might take?"

"Would you leave someone you loved in that state?"

"I'd do what's for the greater good."

"He's your best friend. He's my brother. Axel needs us right now, Ivar. Think of all he's done for us. We owe it to take care of him until he's fit to at least walk again. I need him to remember what happened so I can get a better idea of what's going on outside."

"I suppose you're right," Ivar conceded. "You can't go out blind by yourself."

"Yes, you're right," Vee said with great relief.

"So what now? I can't talk to him?"

"You can speak to him if you like, but try not to bring up things that might confuse him. Don't talk about the army or mention recent times."

Ivar looked over his shoulder at the apartment's open door and heard the muted humming of a girl filtering through the corridor.

"And how's Lea taking all of this?"

Vee stiffened. "She's helping out."

"Axel has no idea who she is? He really doesn't know what's happened?"

"Not that I can tell. He keeps asking for cheeseburgers and to call our parents."

"Wow," Ivar whispered.

"Yeah, it's hard."

Ivar went quiet, distant, and shook his head slowly before inhaling through his nose and squeezing Vee's shoulder. "I trust you, brother. Maybe we'll talk more about your expedition in a few days when things have a chance to settle with Axel."

"You got it."

Axel pretended he wasn't trying to listen to the conversation between his brother and the brown-haired man with the striking blue eyes when the pair returned. Ivar nodded at Axel, his eyes awash with sympathy for the indisposed man.

"How are you feeling, Axel?"

"A little on the shitty side, my man. Not gonna lie. Hands busted, foot's bum... Can't fuck my way to a decent meal in this place, and everyone's tiptoeing around like I'm a sleeping baby. Gotta say I've had better days."

"Well, I hope you heal up quick. There are a lot of people who want to see you."

A coy smirk unfurled over Axel's face. "Yeah, I kinda get that impression. Sometimes, I see people looking in through those doors. I feel like a panda at a zoo. Everyone wants a peek at little ol’ Axel, huh?"

"Is there anything I can get you?"

"Cheeseburger?" Axel asked hopefully.

"Would if I could, friend."

"Goddamn it," Axel lamented.

Vee widened his eyes when Ivar looked at him, confirming what they'd discussed in the hallway.

"Say, how do you stay so beefy if there's no meat in this place?" Axel asked Ivar.

"I get my protein where I can. Try to stay fit. I'll get someone to bring you something good to eat."

Axel snorted. "Yeah, that's what that sweet-lookin' one said, but everything tastes like tree bark. No offence to her. She tried her best, and I'd never insult a lady's cooking to her face."

Ivar sucked in his bottom lip and nodded. "Well, I'll see what I can do for you, Axel. Get better soon."

Vee held his breath until Ivar left the lab and shrunk once the doors closed.

"You sure have a way with words, don't you?"

"Everyone who walks in here acts like they know me."

"We might have to move you to the apartment. Put a cap on your visitors."

"Who was that?" Axel asked.

"That's Ivar Lothbrok. He kinda runs things, in a sense."

"Nice guy."

Vee scoffed. "Yeah. Nice."

An itch stuck in the back of Axel's head, and he grew quiet once again, trying to unravel the mystery he'd woken up inside. He was a figure in a snow globe, a permanent fixture in a landscape rife with faces he'd seen in dreams. Sitting up in his bed, Axel wondered what laid beyond the confines of his glasshouse. Never one to follow the rules, even under the firm guidance of his smart younger brother, Axel decided once everyone fell asleep, he'd find himself a walking post and go exploring.

~*~

Zed woke to the sound of Vee's soft snoring coming through the open door of his bedroom. The possibility of sleep retracted with every second she spent staring at the smooth, globular ceiling in the dark, trying to make shapes out of the dream residue behind her eyelids. The sofa stiffened her back, and she twisted her spine until air bubbles popped and her muscles strained from the motion. She pulled the blanket up to her chin and squeezed her eyes shut for a few minutes, but Axel's stories followed her from sleep, brushing up on her with sharp quills. Since Axel painted his dream world, she hadn't stopped thinking of him and mourning the loss of his memory for the both of them. Axel didn't know his missing pieces were dancing under his eyes each time he slumbered, and she longed to stitch them together to create the full picture.

She squinted into the darkness, fatigue long since faded, and left the apartment. Light on her bare feet, Zed padded down the hallway and turned the corner to find an empty bed. Her heart twinged from Axel's absence. She considered going back to the apartment to tell Vee his brother was missing but found herself propelled to seek Axel out herself. There was nowhere in the lab a man of Axel's stature could hide, so she went out to the courtyard to begin her search. The floodlights cast pyramids of light over the foothills but revealed nothing but stone paths and glittering grass ranks. She started left first, then changed her mind and shot right toward the warehouse. Zed minded her steps as she picked up a jog, extending her legs to clear the roiling yards until she reached the square entrance of the warehouse. A guard leaned against the steel wall next to the exit, blinking and wiping a hand over his face to rouse himself. He saw Zed across the cement expanse and stood up straight.

"What're you doing out here?" The guard's voice clattered through the chamber.

"Sorry," Zed said, casting a thorough glance around before retreating into the light and shadow of the courtyard again. She rushed to the Hives, taking quick strides to reach her abandoned apartment before anyone else noticed her. After a quick knock, Zed opened the door to find her former living quarters as deserted as ever. Nobody had claimed the space in her absence, nor was Axel's adjoining apartment occupied. Both rooms were empty.

Zed's search for Axel continued and grew in urgency with each lonely cove and space she found. As she made her way around the central dome where the courtyard bordered the largest hill, she stopped at the mouth of the Chrysalis and addressed the men standing guard.

"Have either of you seen someone limping through here?"

"Nobody's come 'round here, Zed. Who're you looking for?"

Zed cocked her head. "Who do you think?"

"You mean Zee?" The man on the right asked. "Thought he was paralyzed."

"So it's true? He's awake?"

"Please don't tell anyone. Not yet."

The bearded guard rose a dark eyebrow at Zed. He was one of Ivar's highest-ranking patrol. Zed recognized him from the night they'd brought in the Zeronaut captain, Monk. He often stood by wherever Ivar went and didn't talk much unless addressed. "Ivar know about this?"

"I don't know what Ivar knows. Vee communicates with him, but we're trying to keep this from the general public."

"What do you think, Fen? Should we tell Ivar?" The scrawny, clean-shaven guard asked.

Fen sneered and told his partner to close his mouth before angling his torso toward Zed. "We'll keep an eye out, petite fleur."

Zed nodded and continued on her way, but there were few more spots Axel could hide unless someone had intercepted him and invited him into their hovel. She thought of Nalani, who often wandered the courtyard at odd hours and Trinity, who adored Axel and might jump at the opportunity to lead him to a private alcove. The two of them shared living space in Athena. Zed wanted to keep the search party light, and asking around would only spread curiosity like wildfire.

She continued touring the courtyard, her naked soles sore from hurried walking. Finally, she stopped at the greenhouse gate, its series of coiling iron bars and metal flowers welded to the columns in intricate clusters. Zed lifted the latch and pushed the gate open, taking care to shut it quietly. The greenhouse where the citizens grew aloe and berries was the little-known getaway spot Axel and Vee coveted as their private paradise. Zed zigzagged through the raised beds, taking care not to trip over the irrigation hoses and climbed the wooden steps at the back of the third square house. Around another corner and through the thick blackberry bushes nestled in rectangles of sodden earth, Zed rushed to the spot under the sky where the light poured in but found nothing.

"Shit," she whispered, out of breath and reeling in the thick, tepid air.

Zed looked up to the cloudless velveteen sky, crushing disappointment wringing her heart. In a throng of shadow off to the right, a figure shifted and startled the woman backward.

A tired voice called her name.

The shady form lengthened, struggling to stand. Once it stood at its full height, the vice pressing Zed's chest disappeared. Axel hobbled into view, using the overhead pipes to help himself along.

"Axel! There you are. Oh my God, you had me so worried. Why did you leave the lab?"

"The lab? Is that where you've been keeping me?"

Zed clapped her palm over her mouth. Axel gave an elongated nod, eyes wide and accusatory.

"Is that what I am? Some kind of experiment?"

"No, Axel—"

"What are you and Vee doing? Tell me why he's keeping me locked up. Tell me where the fuck I am, Lea. Please. This place... Something about it seems wrong. It scares me."

Axel wilted against a plant bed as Zed approached and caught his elbow to keep him upright.

"Axel, don't be scared. Please, I promise you're safe. We're not trying to keep you captive. This is all difficult to explain, and you were asleep for so long parts of your memory are missing. Vee's only trying to make it easier for you to cope."

"Cope with what, Lea? Cope with the fact I'm a prisoner? That I can't sleep because my nightmares are so vivid, I feel like I'm dying? That people watch me like some sideshow freak?"

"Everything," Zed sighed. "The new world. How can we explain all this to someone who woke up in the past?"

Axel looked up through the skylights and whimpered. "Something terrible has happened, hasn't it?"

Zed, wounded from the dejection in her friend's voice, led Axel to sit on the floor, then sat next to him and draped her arms over his shoulders, resting her cheek on the thin cotton shoulder strap of his tank top.

"I wish I could say you're wrong, but I can't lie to you, Axe."

"My instincts were right. Something is very wrong. After that Ivar fella came through, I started getting this feeling you all weren't telling me something on purpose."

"Don't be angry with us, Axel. We didn't know how to tell you."

Axel leaned his head on Zed's and sought her hand to hold. She slid her fingers through his and gripped tightly. "It's okay. I get it now. I'm supposed to be here. You and me... We're meant to be together. Otherwise... Why would I see you every time I close my eyes?"

"Axel," Zed whispered. "I missed you so much when you left. I thought I'd never see you again. Now everything is different."

"I'm sorry. If I hurt you back then... I didn't mean it."

"Just don't leave me again. Please. I can't fool myself into happiness without you in my life."

"I won't leave. I can't."

"Promise?"

"I promise, Lea."

"Promise-promise?"

Axel chuckled and kissed the top of Zed's head before laying his cheek on the ruts of her braids. "Yeah. I promise-promise."

~*~

Axel and Zed laid on the floorboards and watched the stars twinkling above while the chamber filled with water vapour, obscuring the glass until the condensation evaporated. When the infinite black sky lightened to meteorite violet, Axel used Zed as a crutch to stand up. He stole a fistful of blackberries, stuffing the fruits in his mouth and mashing them until inky juice seeped from the corners of his lips. He complained about his ankle, which he'd suffered walking on during his solo excursion to the greenhouses. Zed berated him for wandering off and helped him down the steps and through the rows of potato plants, arms locked, their pace slow to accommodate Axel's injury.

A murmur greeted the pair as they approached the iron gate. A dozen villagers gathered around the entrance to witness Axel emerge with smiles on their faces. Frozen from the elated faces beaming at him, Axel pulled on Zed's arm, alerting her to the hoard of onlookers.

"Who are they?" Axel asked.

"Zee! Happy you're awake!"

"What happened to your arm, Zee? Are you okay?"

"He looks terrible."

Zed opened the gate, and the crowd dented but didn't part. "Make room, please!"

"We want to talk to Zee!"

Axel then realized the group addressed him, their wide eyes drinking in his bruised and broken state with smiles unfitting his poor condition. An overwhelming sense of worry touched his skin, and he grabbed for Zed to lead him, but they huddled around the gate until a tall head of blond hair sliced the crowd in half. Vee shouldered past, his eyes hooded and brow furrowed.

"Axel! Lea! What the hell are you doing out here? Lea, did you let him out?"

Zed frowned and drew her shoulders up. "Of course not! I'm the one who came looking for him."

"Let's go. Come on, now. Everyone make way. Go back home!" Vee barked.

"We want answers! What's happening outside the walls?"

"We'll answer your questions later," Vee said disdainfully. "Lea, help me get him back."

The trio staggered to the lab, breathless from the trek over the bowing foothills. Vee waited until they were behind closed doors to deliver a speech about how irresponsible and defiant Axel was, how his behaviour might cause unwanted ripples where the scientist required placidity. Axel hoisted himself into bed and accepted his lecture, sullen and quiet, occasionally glancing at Zed, who also wrung her wrists.

"I told you not to leave the room, Axe. Why? Why can't you listen to me for once in your goddamn life?" Vee asked.

"You're not my mommy, Valter. I can do what I want, and frankly, I don't appreciate you keeping secrets from me!"

"What are you on about?"

"Oh, don't play dumb. You've lied to me this whole time! About where we are, what's happened to me. I think you know much more than you lead on."

Vee scoffed and looked to Zed for reassurance. The girl stood still with her shoulders hunched.

"Lea, help me out here."

"Well, Vee... Maybe it's time we tell him everything. There's no use hiding the truth anymore. He already knows something's wrong."

"Yeah!" Axel cried. "I'm done sitting around twiddling my thumbs. You have to tell me what's up. How did I get like this? What the fuck happened to me, and why can't I remember anything? I don't know how I got here or who all those people are out there."

"That's the thing, Axe... We don't know what happened to you. You left, and when you came back, you were unconscious and hurt. We don't leave this place, so I can't tell you anything more than that. I didn't know if you'd wake up and certainly didn't know you'd have amnesia when you did."

Axel turned to Zed for verification, and she nodded her head regretfully.

"It's true, Axel. I wish we could tell you more."

"Then at least tell me where I am. Start there," Axel demanded.

Vee and Zed stood speechless for a moment until she sighed deeply. "Vee, maybe we should give him the postcards and his journals."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're right, Lea. Go get the box. Tonight's gonna be a long one."

Zed hauled the box of postcards and dog-eared journals into the lab and hefted it onto the foot of Axel's bed. Vee unpinned the postcards from the corkboard and offered them to Axel with a pinched smile. Zed sat in her chair while Vee laid on the floor, a long arm slung over his eyes as Axel began to read aloud from his workbooks. The three of them listened to the stories Axel had penned years before while he was in the infantry as if none of them had heard the tales. From time to time, Axel stopped narrating and glided over the lines, taking in details he should have known, but couldn't place. During these silences, Zed and Vee would look up at him to assess his emotions, whether or not the words shifted the pieces into place or made any difference at all.

Axel took in a strained breath. "Ivar and I aren't talking. He wants to be the leader on this ship, and if things don't go his way, he turns into a giant douche-nozzle," he broke into giggling at his insult. "I haven't eaten in three days, and the water supply is low. We're down to a cup a day each. It's not enough, but it's gotten us through so far. One of the guys got sick, and they've taken him below deck. He throws up constantly even though there's nothing in his gut and howls all night in agony. I swear to God I'll shoot him in the head tomorrow if he doesn't let us sleep tonight. Someone needs to put him out of his misery."

Zed grimaced, and Vee stared at the ceiling with dry eyes, unflinching from the story.

"Day six... I now know what rat meat tastes like."

"Oh, god. Ew," Zed mumbled.

Axel continued without pause. "It's not that bad when you haven't eaten in almost a week. I've set up more traps in the galley to catch the rest. If Ivar plays his cards right, I might share my rats with him, but he's still a stuck-up twat.

I'm not sure how the rats are surviving. Maybe there's food still hidden somewhere on the ship. Maybe they're eating each other."

"This must have been when you were on your way back to America...Or... Whatever you want to call this half of the world now," Vee said.

"What do you mean?" Asked Axel.

"The Unity... The government... They abolished the borders, erased the country names and burned the history books. The states became part of the North-Western Hemisphere. Same with Canada and all that. No countries. No names."

Axel seemed to accept his brother's explanation that nothing would ever be as before. The commune in which he now resided was the only tangible place left in existence. Outside the walls lay sites changed from war, stripped of home and heritage. A tightness in Axel's neck prevented him from speaking until the revelations grew too heavy for him to bear.

"What happened to everyone else?" Axel asked.

"It's hard to say," Vee whispered, then cleared his throat. "A lot of people died."

"How many?"

"Billions," Zed said.

"You mean... We're the only ones left?"

"No, we're not. There are other survivors out there, people who were meant to live through the storms."

"Storms?"

Vee sighed, the farfetched nature of their fates exhausting him before he began. "The Unity developed a way to return the planet back to its natural state. No more electronic communication, no more broadcasts or satellites or TV. After the extinctions reached an all-time high, they introduced these plants that could suck the pollution from the air quickly. They grow extremely fast and are lethal to anyone who wasn't vaccinated against the spores. One plant can release a spore cloud big enough to cover half a football field, and they breed and multiply like vermin. Even a small cluster can kill a stadium of unimmunized people in a few minutes."

"But why would they do this? Have I been vaccinated?"

Axel's questions ripped holes in Vee’s composure. Zed's stomach churned and flipped as the scientist fished for the least aggressive explanation. A gloss came over his eyes, and he avoided his brother's bewildered stare.

"No, Axe. You're not."

"Oh... Are you?" Axel whispered.

"Yeah, I am. So is Lea."

"Why? Why didn't I get vaccinated?"

"You were lost at sea with your platoon for weeks, and before that, you were overseas. They didn't immunize the troops."

"Are you telling me the government wants us all to die?"

"Most of this is widely debated. There are some theories that the Unity had a strategy in mind."

Zed lent the scientist a hand and cut the heavy topic with a smile. "Axel, you're much more special than you know. Those people out there all adore you because of what you've done for Kinderfeld. You were the only one brave enough to go out when they needed supplies. People know your name not only here but out in the world. I've seen you fight and shoot. You're a natural."

"Well, yeah. I've been shooting guns since I was a kid."

"You were a special ops sniper. More than just a good shot."

Axel warmed to the compliment. "And what about you? Are you the mercenary of my dreams?"

Zed blushed and failed to hide her pride. "Not a mercenary... But I've murked a few Scavs in my day."

"Man... I like you," Axel tittered. "Ain't she great, Vee? What a prize."

For the few seconds of silence that passed, Vee's expression darkened. He recognized the reverence pulling Axel's features, the heartfelt way Lea relaxed when they spoke. Even in the absence of memory, Axel and Zed forged a bond too strong to pry apart. He would never wish ill upon his brother, but he mourned the days past with the woman whose eyes shone like vats of golden syrup passing under the morning light. At the risk of sharing a likeness with Ivar, the king who could never quite capture the woman's love, Vee thought of what life might have been like had Axel never returned. Would Zed love him? Could she? Had he ever toed the waters of her unspoken affection? Vee cursed his stupidity the night he told her how he felt and quickly dismantled his chances before she had the opportunity to consider him more than a close friend.

As Zed stared at Axel upright in his bed with his journals splayed out around him, Vee knew it was too late to rescind his platonic claim. A victim of his own sabotage, the scientist turned from them and pushed out every last ounce of breath to make room for another stale intake.

"I think it's time I showed Axel the Crimson Yawn."

Zed nodded and left the brothers, sensing a gloomy air rising between them. Vee was much better at explaining the inexplicable. He delivered news with a needed bluntness, one Zed had never mastered. Once she left the lab searching for distractions, Vee helped his brother box up the journals and offered his elbow to guide Axel back on his feet. Amid the bleak news, Axel had almost forgotten the pain in his extremities.

They waddled to the locked chambers where the bulk of Vee's scientific discoveries came to light. Axel squinted against the bright white walls and polished floor as he followed his brother through a series of doors leading to a clear dome similar to the greenhouses he'd found, only this hollow contained a twisted swarm of redheaded plants, mouths bloody and agape. Each one stood over seven feet tall and lifted its black-spotted maw to the sky in a silent scream. Axel turned from them.

"I've seen these before, but never this many. In my dreams, there's always one growing in a container."

"You recognize them?"

"And you say these things can kill me? How is it possible?" Axel asked.

"They're a sophisticated hybrid plant. They release spores like mushrooms, and those spores become airborne. If you breathe them in, they attack your blood, soaking up the nutrients and essentially turning it into a highly acidic jelly. You burn from the inside out. Well...Dissolve is a better word."

"And you've brought me here why!?" Axel shouted, dodging backward and planting too much weight on his bad ankle.

"Don't worry! They can't hurt you from in here. The filtration system's design protects everything inside."

"I still have a hard time believing all this. You know how crazy it sounds, right?"

Vee clapped his brother on the shoulder. "Oh, I realize. Why do you think it took me so long to break the news? You try finding a delicate way to explain this to someone who just came out of a coma."

Axel became transfixed on the plants again after Vee's assurance. He shuffled to the glass and studied the roaring heads, each one slightly different than its neighbour. They resembled demons, bizarre red monsters with thick necks and broad leaves of wax. Their spiked roots toiled in the ground, gnarled and tangled in a hellish orgy above and beneath the soil. Beyond the ranks, Axel saw the roiling jungle and all its hues of green and black. The sun broke through parts in the towering trees. How he longed to feel the wind on his burnt skin and walk among the flora. Axel observed the plants for a few minutes as Vee stepped back and allowed him time to digest.

"Am I in a nightmare?" Axel met his brother's eyes and did not blink.

"Some might say that. And I'm sorry. I've dedicated my life to making things better for the survivors, but there's nothing left I can do. All we have now is the village and each other."

"And mom and dad?"

"They're gone, Axe. They've been gone a while."

The tattooed man swallowed bitterly and nodded as a wall of tears blinded him. Vee touched his brother's shoulder and shared his pain through the comforting gesture. Axel crossed his chest with his good hand and patted Vee's fingers.

"Do you mind if I spend some time alone? This is... It's just a lot."

"Of course. Take all the time you need, Axe. I'll leave the doors unlocked. You good to walk?"

Axel's voice floated below a whisper. "I’ll manage."

~*~

In the apartment, Zed held her arms out before her and swung them in half-circles, stretching her muscles in preparation for another stiff night spent on the sofa. Vee came in after dinner and found Zed flinging her limbs outward.

"Nightly aerobics?" He asked with a touch of humour, the most he could muster after a day of harsh truths.

"Just stretching out before bed. My back's been killing me."

"Oh," Vee's green eyes popped open wide. "Don't sleep on the couch, Lea. You can take the bed tonight."

"Nah, it's okay."

"No, really. I insist. You deserve a night without hanging off the edge of the cushions."

"Then where will you sleep?" She asked.

"The couch."

Zed laughed at the idea. "You're far too tall to fit comfortably."

"I've passed out there dozens of times. Don't worry about me, really. Take the bed."

"Why're you being so nice, huh?" Zed snorted.

"I've seen you in pain the last few days, and I feel bad. It's rude of me to have one of the biggest beds in this place when I don't do anything to deserve it."

"Oh, shush," Zed jested. "You've done more for this place than anyone."

"There's always the Chrysalis."

The good humour in the room vanished with Vee's maladroit suggestion. Zed shook her head and scoffed. "I'm not going to the Chrysalis. I want to stay here with you guys."

"Fine by me. You'll take the bed tonight then. Grab your blankets and go."

Zed and Vee swapped bedding and wished each other goodnight. Though she deemed herself undeserving of the luxury, when Zed crawled onto Vee's large bed and spread her limbs from corner to corner, her skin bristled with goosebumps. The scent of the sheets belonged to the man outside the room, sprawled on the sofa, long legs dangling over the arm—cotton and boyish musk, the redolence Zed had grown accustomed to except in this moment. Lying on the mattress reminded her of the hugs and closeness she'd received from Vee when Axel had fled.

She relived their days together in clips of happy memories and some not so joyful. Across the apartment, Vee recalled the same night playing in Zed's mind—their evening in the greenhouse when they'd held hands, so close together yet barred by the promises of friendship. Vee cursed himself repeatedly while Zed entertained the idea of getting together with the scientist.

Soon, Zed's thoughts slid over the night she'd spent with Ivar. If she concentrated, she could feel the fullness between her legs still. Ivar had made love to her the way couples did in films. He'd stroked her and kissed her skin, took her nipples gently between his lips and sucked until she giggled. What might have excited some left her shivering. Was one of the brothers more deserving of her love? Was she foolish to think herself so desirable her attention was a coveted badge of excellence?

What a prize!

Lea... I want you to tell me no, right now.

It's like you were made for me.

With her heart racing, Zed turned over in bed and clamped her eyes shut. Debating which of the three men in her life she wanted more made her stomach flip, yet she couldn't keep the lewd considerations from pouring into her head. In these fantasies, she replaced Ivar with Vee. Yes, he was smart and gentle and keen on her, but he'd told her not to let him cross the line, claimed he didn't want her that way despite his feelings. Vee's kind face took the place of Ivar's, coasting down her stomach, stamping her thighs with kisses from luscious lips. She squeezed her legs together and let the inevitable shift knock Vee from the picture to make room for his older brother.

The tattooed man with all his addictions and his looming depression positioned himself between her knees and grasped her ankles delicately. A murderer and womanizer leaned over her body, caging her with long limbs decorated with sparrows, weapons, chains and barbed wire.

We're meant to be together. I see you in my dreams every time I fall asleep.

Zed bit her lip when the phantom sensation invaded her. She knew not how Axel would moan or if he'd coo and sigh the way Ivar had when they had sex. She wanted very much to think Axel would treat her with respect and scorned the claims Trinity had made about his wild side. Then the obscene journal entries came to life, glowing, fanned by salacious visions. What if she didn't want to make love? What if she wanted to be taken hard and fast by a man who worshiped her? Guilt and arousal mixed in her chest and sat heavy, grinning evilly like a demon poised to possess her body.

Sleep wriggled through Zed's conjurations and pulled her under before she realized she was slipping into blackness. The cozy bed and Vee's sheets lulled her, and soon, she dreamed of ordinary things, forgetting her personal stash of pornographic thoughts. She slipped further as the moon made a lazy arc through the night sky until something touched her shoulder and jarred her from sleep with a sharp gasp.

Her scream ripped through the apartment, sending her waker toppling out of bed.

"Lea? Oh, fuck. Fuck!"

"Axel?"

In the dimness, neither of them saw each other but tasted each other's heavy breath. Soon the light snapped on, and Vee stood at the door, chest heaving.

"What the hell is going on?" Vee asked. "Axel? What're you doing?"

"Christ, I thought Zed was you. I just came to... Well, I couldn't sleep," Axel cringed. "Shit, my hand. Fuck, I landed like a sack of bricks."

Vee snickered, setting off a series of giggles. "You came to sleep in my bed?"

"I didn't mean to scare you, Lea."

"It's all right," said Zed. "Really. On any other night, it would have been Vee in here."

Axel pulled himself up by the elbows and sat on the edge of the bed, grimacing from the agony of his agitated wounds. "Sorry, guys. It's hard to sleep out there. People are watching me."

Zed scooted over and patted the part of the mattress warm from her body. "Come on. Lie down. I think we could all use a sleepover after the day we've had."

"You're not serious," Vee said with a scoff as his brother took up Zed's offer and laid down next to her.

Zed nodded with conviction. "Absolutely. You too, Valter. Turn off the light and get over here."

He rolled his eyes as he flipped the light switch. "This is hardly a three-person bed."

"Well, cuddle up, pal."

"Lea takes up a fraction of the bed, anyway," Axel pointed out.

"Is this not weird to you? Three adults sharing a bed?"

Zed moved to the center as Vee climbed into bed from the left. To her right, Axel had already sprawled and turned over to face her in the dark.

"It's no stranger than how half the people in this place sleep all piled on top of each other. Humans were meant to nest. In the wild, this is how we'd sleep."

"Yeah, but we're not in the wild," said Vee.

"Yes, we are, little brother. Have you seen it outside? We're literally in glass bubbles, in the middle of a rainforest. Now shut up, and go to sleep."

"You shut up."

"Guys?" Zed chimed.

"Yeah?" The brothers answered.

"I love you both.”

Robbed of their voices, Axel and Vee set aside their bickering to bask in the genial haze of Zed's words. Axel shifted an inch closer while Vee laid stiffly on his side, eyes wide in the dark. As though her claim was bathed in wine, they soaked in the meaning and slipped drunkenly into slumber.

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hyuckshaze · 3 years

Text

Drowning in the Distance | Chapter XII

✩‌ haechan ‌x‌ ‌fem!reader‌ ‌|‌ terminal illness au! series ✩

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ confined to a life of detachment from the only people on earth who understand them, the patients of saint evangeline’s can only watch as those around them drown in themselves, in more ways than one, while they themselves drown, in a much more literal sense. haechan is tired, tired of moving from place to place with no real chance of getting better. y/n is tired too, tired of living solely for the purpose of staying alive. maybe, just maybe, despite the space that separates them, they can guide each other to a life worth living.

WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ongoing theme of terminal illness (cystic fibrosis); talk of christianity, the afterlife, heaven/hell, death; ongoing mention of surgeries, scars, medications, drug trials etc.

CHAPTER WORD COUNT ⇾‌ 3.11k

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

XII | Donghyuck

✩‌

I messed up. Bad. I know that. I knew that the second those stupid words left my mouth. I sneak out of the CF wing and around the east lobby of the hospital after dropping off the drawing, my phone clutched tightly in my hand as I wait for something. A text, a FaceTime, a phone call, anything. She must have seen the drawing by now, right? She had to have seen it. Her light was on when I slid it under the door, but it’s been radio silence since our fight. I didn’t realise how much I relied on her contact until it was entirely gone. Contact. It’s a funny word to use, really, because no matter how much I wanted to, I would never be able to make physical contact with her. Even if I didn’t have B. cepacia, I still couldn’t touch her. Was life always this unfair?

What should I do? She won’t even talk to me.

I text Johnny, grimacing at myself. I can see him getting a real kick over me hung up on someone enough to ask his advice. I never do this. I’ve known Johnny most of my life and he’s never seen me interested in a girl. Hell, I’ve never really been interested in girls. I’ve never wanted anything serious; fucking around is my specialty. But, Y/N… She’s just different. And it’s not because she has CF, no. She’s… Huh. I don’t have an explanation for it. No words could really describe the feeling that she gives me. She’s just special.

Just give her some time, dude.

He replies. I sigh loudly, frustrated. Time. All this waiting is torture. The time seems to travel at a glacial pace whenever I’m not calling, or texting, Y/N, so the idea of waiting an unknown, unspecified length of time until she’s willing to talk to me seems the most unappealing thing in the world. I slump down on a bench in the east lobby, watching people as they pass by, moving in an out of the sliding doors of Saint Evangeline’s hospital. Children, fearfully grasping the hands of their parents. Nurses, rubbing at their eyes wearily as they finally get to leave. Visitors, readily pulling on their jackets as they head home for the night. For the first time in a few days I wish I were one of them, were able to just go home. Even calling it home seems weird now. It’s been eight months since I stepped foot in my childhood house. Eight whole months. Jesus. When I think about it like that… I’m distracted from my thoughts when my stomach growls noisily, a slight pang of hunger pawing at my stomach, so I decide to go to the cafeteria to distract myself from the waiting with some food. Making my way towards the elevators, not really feeling up to taking the stairs, I freeze when I hear an acquainted voice echoing out of a room to my left.

“돈을 보내지 마십시오, 당신은 그것을 감당할 수 없다.” The voice says, the tone sombre, sad. My ears perk at the sound of the familiar language, though I feel my heart ache a little at his words. I peek my head inside to see it’s a chapel, with big stained-glass windows and old-fashioned wooden pews. The ancient, churchy look is so vastly different from the rest of the hospital’s modern, sleek design. Interesting. My eyes then land on Jaemin, sitting in the front row, his elbows resting on his knees as he talks to someone on the phone. “나도 너를 그리워," he says. “알아요. 사랑해요, 엄마.” He hangs up the phone, putting his head in his hands as he mutters inaudibly to himself.

I pull the heavy door open a little wider so that I can step through, the hinges creaking loudly as I do. The boy in the front row turns around in surprise, clearly shocked at my sudden appearance.

“The chapel?” I ask, my voice echoing loudly off of the walls of the wide space as I make my way down the aisle toward him. I wince at the volume, making a note to lower my voice slightly. He turns back around to face the front, smiling faintly.

“My mum likes to see me in here. I’m a Christian, but she’s a Christian.” He lets out a loud sigh, resting his head blearily against the pew. “I haven’t seen her in just over two years. She wants me to come see her.” My eyes widen in surprise and I sit down in the front row, across the aisle, a safe seven or so feet away. Jesus, that’s a really long time. I can’t imagine not seeing my mother for two whole years, not when she helicopter-parents me like she does. His mother must have been really bad for him not to see her for two years, especially ‘cause he’s still under eighteen, isn’t he?

“You haven’t seen your mum in two years? What did she do to you?” I ask hesitantly, not wanting to sound crude but, for lack of better phrasing, I ask anyway. He shakes his head, his big, dark eyes filled with sadness and longing.

“Nah, it’s not like that. My parents’ VISA to stay in the country got rejected, so they were deported back to the motherland. But I was born here and they didn’t want to take me away from the doctors. I’m a ‘ward of the state’ until I’m eighteen.” Shit. I can’t even imagine what that was like. How could they deport the parents of someone with CF? The parents of someone terminally ill. I bite down on my lower lip, not sure what to say. What do you say to that?

“That’s fucked up.” I say. It’s the only thing that comes to mind, and it’s not wrong. Jaemin nods in response, resting his elbows on his knees once more.

“I miss them. So much.” The sorrow, the absolute yearning, in his voice makes my chest pang with sympathy. Not that he needs sympathy. A frown pulls at my lips as I look over at him, running my fingers through my unruly hair.

“Jaemin, you have to visit them, you have to!” He sighs, fixing his eyes on the massive wooden cross that hangs above the lectern, and it’s only then that I remember what I overheard. 돈.

“It’s expensive. The flights, the medical insurance, all of it. They want to send money, I know they do, but they can’t really afford it. And I- I just… I refuse to take food off their table-” He starts and I find myself speaking, the sound of my voice echoing around the church.

“If it’s money, I can help. Seriously. I mean, I’m not trying to sound like a privileged asshole, but it’s not an issue for me-” But before I finish speaking, I know that he’s not having any of it.

“Come on. Stop.” His voice is sharp, harsh almost. He turns his head to give me a look, but his face softens upon looking at my face. “I’ll… I’ll figure it out.” A comfortable silence falls between us, the quiet, open air of the big room making my ears ring with tinnitus. This isn’t just about money, that much is clear. There’s another reason. I won’t push, though. The offer is there, but I know more than anyone else that money can’t fix everything. If the eight months of pointless hospital visits and treatments can be classed as evidence, then maybe, someday, the realisation will wash over my mother. “Thank you, though,” Jaemin says something, finally, looking over at me with a small smile on his lips. “I mean it.” I nod, sending him a half-hearted smile before we fall back into that calm silence. In that quiet, my mind can’t help but wander. How is it fair that my mum can hover, can helicopter over me, while someone else has his just ripped away from him without warning, without a say in the matter? Here I am, counting down the fucking seconds till I turn eighteen, ready to celebrate my freedom, while Jaemin is trying to slow it down, wishing for more of it. More time. I’d never considered that there were terminal kids out there who didn’t want their freedom. I suppose I’d never got close enough to another terminal kid to find out, what with the constant moving around. Y/N and Jaemin, they just want more time. Jaemin wants to see his family, to not have the financial burden of being an adult in a country with such a fucked up medical system, to live long enough to spend time with his family after not being able to for two years. Y/N wants all the time in the world, to heal her parents and to grieve for her own. It wasn’t just a daughter that her parents lost that day; she lost a sister, and they seem to be forgetting that. For me, it was easy to give up. It was easy to fight my treatments and focus on the time I do have left. But Y/N and Jaemin are making me want to take every second that I can possibly get, making me want to do the stupid treatments and drug trials, making me want to live the way they see living. And that, now that is fucking terrifying.

That evening, I lie on my bed and stare up at the ceiling as I do my nebulizer treatment. Without Y/N. I hear my phone chime and practically dive across the room to my desk, grasping the phone tightly. A sigh of disappointment and a flurry of curses leave my mouth when I read the text.

Anything?

Johnny texts me. This doesn’t help, since the answer is an unambiguous no. I throw the phone beside me as I slump back onto the bed. Still nothing from her; not even a note. I know it’s my fault, I know that, but I can’t stop thinking about her. And the longer she’s quiet for, the worse it gets. I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to be close to her, closer than a measly six feet, to reach out and actually touch her, to make her feel better after I screwed up and hurt her. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt her. I can feel something reaching from deep in my chest, in the tips of my fingers and the pit of my stomach. The urge to reach out to feel the smooth skin of her arm, the raised scars I’m sure are on her body, just like they’re on mine. But I’ll never be able to. The distance between us will never go away or change; it’ll stay that way for as long as we both live, drowning us both in the misery that it brings. My phone dings again and I grab it, anticipative, but it’s just a notification from the News app. I throw my phone back down on my bed, frustrated. What the fuck, Y/N? She hasn’t even checked that I’ve done my treatments. I huff. She can’t stay mad forever, can she? I need to fix this hurtful mess that I made.

I switch off the nebulizer beside me and swing my legs over the edge of the bed, sliding my feet into my Vans. I open my door quietly, poking my head out of the smallest gap possible and peering into the hallway to make sure the coast is clear. I watch as Irene disappears into a room somewhere much further down the hall with an IV bag, and I swiftly slip out of my room, knowing that I don’t have long, but I have enough time. Walking as silently as possible down the hall, I pass the empty nurses’ station, stopping directly in front of room 302, hearing the rhythmic strum of her guitar, her hands moving slowly on the other side to create the sad-sounding melody. She’s in there. I take a deep breath and knock, the sound of my knuckles on the worn wood echoing around the thin white walls of her room. I hear her fingers stop moving, the sound of her guitar being placed down on a hard surface, and then her footsteps as she comes closer and closer, stopping in front of the door, hesitating. Finally, it opens, her deep orbs staring directly back at me, making my heart pound heavily in my chest. It’s so good to see her.

“You’re here.” I say softly.

“I’m here.” She says calmly, leaning against the doorframe and acting like she didn’t just ignore me for the whole day. What? I blink at her, confusion evident on my features. “I got your cartoon. You’re forgiven. Now, back up.” A feeling of relief washes over me at her words. She forgives me. That doesn’t explain her behaviour, though. I quickly step all the way back to the opposite wall, putting as much space between us as possible. It’s around six feet. Close enough. We stare at each other wordlessly, and after a moment or two, she looks away, turning her head left and right to check the hall for nurses before looking down at the linoleum tiled floor.

“You missed our treatment.” She looks somewhat impressed, and relieved, that I actually remembered but stays silent as she stares down at her bare feet, the chipped polish apparently more interesting than anything else. I lean down slightly to see her face, noticing immediately that her eyes are red and slightly puffy, like she’s been crying. Something tells me that it’s not because of what I said, either. I look at her, scanning her up and down. Her arms are crossed over her chest, almost hugging herself as she stands there silently. “What’s going on?” I ask, sincerity dripping from my tone. She looks up at me for a moment, only a few seconds, and I look at her. Yeah, she’s been crying alright. Her whites of her eyes are painstakingly bloodshot and her bottom lip appears sore from biting at it. I glance down to her wrist, noticing that a hair tie sits upon it once more. She already has her hair tied up. I don’t say a word as she takes a deep breath, and when she speaks, I can hear the nerves lacing her words, her voice shaking as she explains.

“The skin around my G-tube is pretty badly infected. Dr. Moon is worried about sepsis. He’s going to purge my infected skin and replace my G-tube in the morning.” When I look in her bloodshot eyes, I see it’s way more than nerves. She’s afraid, absolutely terrified. I want to reach out and take her hand in mine. I want to tell her that everything will be okay and that it will all go perfectly. I nod my head in understanding; that shouldn’t be too bad.

“I’m sure it’ll-” She cuts me off.

“I’m going under general.” I’m sorry, what? Did she just say general? General anaesthesia? With her lungs at 35? Taeil must be out of his fucking mind, putting her under general. God, they’re hesitant to put you under if you’re anywhere under around 70 and they’re putting her under at 35? I grip the railing on the wall to keep myself in place, though a feeling of panic surges through my chest and my knees suddenly feel much weaker.

“Shit. Are your lungs up for that?” I ask, not wanting my internal panic to come across in my words. She’s stressed enough as it is, the last thing I wanna do is upset her more. We stare at each other for a few long minutes, the open air between us feeling like miles and miles of treacherous, icy waters. I fight the urge to cave, to let the waters carry me to her. She breaks our eye contact, eyes falling back upon her flaked nail polish, ignoring the question.

“Take your night-time meds and then set up your G-tube for the night, okay?” Her voice shakes with emotion and, without giving me time to respond, she closes the door, the clicking of the latch being her last word. I walk slowly to her door, reaching out to lay my hand flat against the old wood, knowing that she’s leaning against the other side. I don’t know how, I just know. I take a deep breath, resting my head on the door next to my hand, my voice barely a whisper.

“It’s going to be okay, Y/N.” I know she hears me, the small sniffling sound from inside the room telling me that she does. My hand brushes against a sign hanging on her door. I look to it, tracing the letters with my fingertips as I read the bold words.

NIL BY MOUTH FROM 12AM. SURGERY SCHEDULED FOR 6 AM.

I pull my hand away before I get caught and scolded by one of the nurses on duty and walk back down the hallway to my room, room 315, sinking down onto my bed. Y/N is normally so in control. Through all the surgeries and the treatments, she’s always calm. Why is this one affecting her? Is it because of her parents? Because of her lung function? Because she’s so worried about the effect that her dying will have on the people in her life? I roll over on my side, my eyes drifting towards the drawing of her from the yoga room, and then they land on my cartoon lung drawing, reminding me of the drawing in her room. Yeji. Oh my God, of course that’s why she’s so freaked out. This is her first surgery under general without Yeji. I still need to fix things between us, a proper apology for my stupid actions rather than just the cartoon that I slid under her door. I shoot up, clambering from my bed to sit at the desk, an idea having popped into my head. Tugging my phone from the pocket of my sweats, I set an alarm for 5am for the first time in my life. I send a quick text to Johnny, before putting my phone face-down on the desk and cracking my knuckles, twisting my neck from side to side to click the bones.

I’m gonna make things right.

I grab my box of art supplies from the shelf beside my desk. I got this.

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professional-benaddict · 4 years

Text

🖤 shoelaces 🐾 starker petplay au

A collab between @rustedstarker and @professional-benaddict

Daddy/master Tony, +18 puppy Peter, vet Stephen, dog and cat hybrids are known, dog-boys (Peter has ears, tail, teeth etc), medical examination, medical procedures, whump, hurt, comfort, fluff, 5k

Or Peter swallows a shoelace.

Peter sat fidgeting on the floor, batting his favourite toy back and forth between his hands as he waited impatiently for his owner, Tony, to come home. Every so often he looked up at the clock, waiting for the moment that the big hand would reach the bottom of the face, which is when his owner said he would be home from work. His ears were drooping a little as he huffed, leaning in close to head-butt his stuffed octopus once and then crawling away from it. Peter moved to sit by the penthouse windows, gazing out at the city below and wondering where Tony was in relation to their home.

Tony knew he was screwed as he stopped for another red light. It was like the world was against him today, and the CEO honked his horn at the traffic ahead, although he knew it was pointless. It was Tony’s promise to his pet that was making him so impatient and frustrated, because he knew he was going to be late, and thus he would have to deal with a dog-boy in a foul mood as soon as he arrived. Everything just became worse as Tony knew that with every minute that ticked by, Peter’s mood would be worse and worse.

Peter was now staring at the clock, and as the big hand passed the bottom of the clock, there was no sign of Tony. The dog-boy growled under his breath, and headed back over to the couch he had been sat in front of. He picked up the stuffed octopus between his teeth and tossed it aside, not interested in playing with it any more. As he looked around the penthouse floor, he spotted a pair of Tony's shoes by the front door, and immediately went over to them. He picked one up between his teeth, and began gnawing at it while rolling on his back. The leather was hard, but broken in by how often Tony wore those shoes, and Peter had no trouble chewing on them out of boredom. He also gave a few tugs to the shoelaces, pulling them out of their holes. In his boredom, Peter had managed to pull one of the shoelaces out of Tony's shoes, and swallowed it. Panicking at the realisation of what he had done, the dog-boy hurried to the bathroom. There, he bent double over the toilet, trying his best to retch in the hopes that vomiting would get the shoelace back up, but it was no use.

Fuck, it was almost 6 pm already, which meant Tony was late by half an hour. To some, it may not seem like a lot, but after owning Peter for the past three years, Tony knew that half an hour is an eternity in Peter’s eyes. And an eternity equals betrayal. The CEO hurried up to his penthouse, counting the seconds as he made his way up the elevator. Finally, he reached his floor and went to open his front door.

“Peter? Daddy’s so sorry, I got held back at work and traffic was terrible.” Tony started once he had unlocked the door. But, there was no sight of Peter. “Peter?” Tony called out again, stumbling a bit over his shoes that lay in the middle of the hallway. He pushed them aside without much thought, too busy to notice that one shoelace was missing.

“Daddy!” Peter wailed in response. He very rarely responded to talking properly, much preferring to use his ears and tail to show his mood, but this was different. At Peter’s wail, Tony felt his stomach drop in dread. The tone of the wail was urgent, to say the least, and the man rushed to the bathroom where he heard the wailing come from.

“Peter, what’s going on?” Tony asked and with a few quick strides, he came over to Peter by the toilet. His first thought was that his dog-boy was sick, so he put a hand to his forehead, but found his temperature to be normal. “Are you sick, puppy love? Talk to Daddy now.” The man urged, knowing hybrids’ tendencies to use their body language rather than speaking. But, Tony really needed Peter to cooperate here.

“I-“ The effort of trying to vomit made Peter cough for a few seconds, and he looked pained as he did so. “I-I'm sorry, I- I was fiddling with your sh-shoes, and then I- I swallowed a sh-shoelace. I didn't mean to, I promise!” He whimpered, still coughing in the hopes that it would bring the lace back up.

“You swallowed a what?” Tony asked, his brows knit together in a completely baffled expression. It was common for dogs to eat and swallow inappropriate things, but Tony would have honestly expected more from a dog-boy. Still, this was not the time for lecturing, and Tony swiftly picked Peter up and brought him out of the bathroom. He did not feel comfortable extracting the shoelace on his own at all, so he needed some professional help.

Peter whined as he was suddenly picked up, and carried like a baby back to their bedroom. Peter had his own, separate dog bed that he enjoyed sleeping on, but today Tony placed him down on the king-sized bed in the centre of the room and told him to wait while he made a phone call. The dog-boy whimpered, and curled up into a tight ball with his face hidden from view.

“Strange and Palmer Hybrid Clinic, how may I help you?”

“I need to speak to Doctor Strange.”

“I- I’m afraid he is occupied at the moment in surgery. What seems to be the problem?”

“Then put me through to the ORs or whatever you need to do, just get me in touch with Doctor Strange.”

“Sir-”

“Tell him it’s Tony Stark, and it is urgent.”

“... I’ll see what I can do.”

Peter could not hear much of the conversation, only Tony’s stern tone as he talked to whoever was on the other end of the phone. Peter groaned, and his ears fell flat on his head with nerves. Even his tail was drooped, curled up behind him as he waited for his owner to come back into the room.

After a few minutes of waiting, Tony finally heard a familiar baritone voice at the other end of the line.

“Doctor Strange speaking-“

“Peter ate a shoelace.”

“... Bring him over. Don’t give him anything to eat or drink, just bring him over. I’ll be here once you arrive.”

And with that, Tony did not need to say nor hear anything else and ended the call. The CEO and vet in question have been friends for a few years now, and they always have a fun time hanging out. The dog-boy, on the other hand, is not particularly fond of the vet, but not because he is unpleasant, but rather because of the things that entail meeting the vet. It always involves poking and a level of discomfort for some time. Still, Peter is smart, so Tony does not try to hide where they are going as he goes to scoop Peter up into his arms again.

“And off to the vet we go…”

Peter instantly made a noise of complaint at the mention of the vet. He hated being prodded and poked, and going to the vet often meant getting injections of some kind. He knew there was no use in objecting to it, but he still whined pitifully and squirmed in the man’s arms as he was carried out of the bedroom and across the penthouse to the elevator.

“You’ll be okay, you’ll be okay, puppy.” Tony soothed as they got into the elevator and rode down to the cars in the basement. “I know you don’t like this, but it has to be done.” He added, then put Peter in his cage in the cat for the ride, adding another blanket under him just in case he threw up. It would not be a long drive, but still Tony had learned how to take the necessary precautions when it came to his precious, and expensive, pet.

Peter hated the cage. He liked being in the front seat with Tony when he drove, with his head out of the window trying to catch raindrops on his tongue if it was raining. Being put in the cage in the backseat was boring, with nothing to look at, and the dog-boy sadly curled up on his blanket with his tail between his legs. By the time they had gotten to the vet, Peter was subdued and sullen, and did not fight when Tony lifted him up out of the cage.

Just a second after mentioning his name at the reception at the hybrid clinic, Stephen Strange came through and gestured for Tony to come with him. Rather than putting his pet down, Tony carried Peter the whole way. And as they walked, Tony could feel how Peter was beginning to tremble in his arms. He kissed his pup in between his ears lovingly. Despite his fear and wish to just escape and make a run for it, Peter was grateful for how Tony was holding him all the way to the exam room.

“I’m sorry, but we gotta do this, pup...”

“So, when did he swallow the shoelace?” Stephen asked as he led Tony to a free exam room. Tony put his precious pet on the metal exam table, but kept his hands on him still to sooth him. As he was set down on the table, the dog-boy instantly recoiled at how cool the metal felt against his skin, and whined in protest. His ears were pinned back against his head nervously, and he watched Strange move around the room with a wary eye.

“I’m not sure, I just came back from work and found him by the toilet trying to throw up.”

“Before Daddy came home. 10... 10 minutes.” Peter mumbled. He did not want to speak at all, but he knew it would make the process more difficult if he did not.

“Good boy, Peter. Thank you for telling.” Stephen praised and Tony stroked in between the boy’s tense ears. Based on the dog-boy’s body language, he was very uncomfortable, and Tony’s heart ached at knowing it would get worse before it would get better.

“Has he thrown up?” Stephen asked next, getting some gloves to do a quick exam before sedating the pet for the inevitable procedure needed to extract the ingested shoelace.

Both Peter and Tony said ‘no’ at the same time, Peter’s voice more high-pitched and wavering, nervous of what was going to happen next. As each second passed, Peter was becoming less and less soothed by Tony’s petting, his eyes wide and flitting all over the room. There were posters all over the place depicting different hybrid structures, both canine and feline, male and female. Peter tried to read them as a distraction, but could not keep his attention on them long enough.

“Okay, puppy, I’m gonna have a look at you now.” Stephen warned gently as he approached the exam table from where he had logged in his brief observations of Peter in his chart. “Just hold him up and keep him distracted.” The vet instructed to Tony, who nodded in response and got Peter up on all fours before stroking his ears and kissing at his nose.

“You’re okay, pup.” Tony said in between the kisses.

While Peter was standing up, Stephen started to gently feel the dog-boy’s abdomen, feeling for any tenderness or swelling. Peter could not squirm much from where Tony was holding him up. He was still upset though, and so avoided making eye contact with Tony as Strange began feeling around his abdomen. He whimpered gently, hating the way that Strange poked him. He hated everything about this, and pursed his lips uncomfortably while his ears still stayed flopped back against his head.

“Shh, I know, I know.” Stephen cooed as he continued to feel Peter’s abdomen for a few more moments before letting go. To make up for the discomfort he caused, he stroked the dog-boy’s back, watching as his tail twitched a bit, but remained in between his legs in a fearful position. “Okay, so since it hasn’t been long since he swallowed the shoelace, it’s probably still in his stomach. We’ll have to sedate him to carry out the ultrasound and then go in with the scope to remove it.” The vet explained while still stroking Peter’s back. Tony looked up as he listened to Stephen, but still cupped his pet’s face in his hands and stroked at his ear.

“Right now?”

“Yeah, I’ll just grab a sedative now. Time isn’t exactly on our side with this.” Stephen said and went to retrieve a syringe. “Usually, we give them treats to distract from the shot, but he can’t eat anything, so just do what you did earlier.”

Peter whined again. He could hear Strange moving around behind him, and Tony’s attempts of soothing him were not working. He eventually pulled his face away from Tony’s touch and hid himself by tucking his head in under his arms, trembling with fear.

“You’re okay, puppy, you’re okay. It’s just a little pinch and then you’ll have a nice nap.” Tony assured, but Peter did not seem comforted in the slightest. Gesturing to let Peter lay down, Stephen took a hold of the pup’s thigh, using his weight to hold the limb in place. After exchanging a quick look with Tony, the vet injected the pet swiftly.

A sharp yelp of pain came from Peter’s throat as he was injected, and he looked up from where he previously had his face buried in the crook of his arm to glare at Strange for injecting him. The sedative quickly took over though, and the dog-boy relaxed against the table with his eyes fluttering shut. Once the dog-boy fell unconscious, Stephen carefully straightened his neck out to secure an open airway, then stroked back the pup’s soft ears.

“I got him from here, you don’t have to worry, Tony.” The vet reassured the clearly anxious owner. After giving his pet a kiss, or maybe a dozen, Tony finally left, although reluctantly.

A short while later, Stephen had gotten a team of two nurses and an assistant to assist him with the dog-boy and had him transported to be treated. First, they did x-rays and an ultrasound to locate the shoelace, then had Peter readied in surgery to have the foreign object removed endoscopically. The dog-boy pulled through the procedure with perfect stats and all members of staff who saw him could not resist the urge to stop and coo at him. All hybrids are incredibly expensive due to their luxurious status and beauty, but it was clear that Peter was an exception. Everyone said how lucky Tony was to have him, and Stephen could hardly disagree as he looked at the still sedated and stunning pet on his procedure table.

After the successful extraction of the shoelace, Stephen had Peter brought to recovery to come around from the anaesthesia on a cozy bed on the floor and with a blanket over him. Since Tony was a friend of his, Stephen had volunteered to stay in recovery to wait for Peter to come around, surprising a few nurses by doing so. But, the vet did not mind, and did some paperwork till he heard a soft groan and the shuffling of fabric, which indicated that his precious patient was starting to wake.

As Peter started to come to, he groaned gently. His ears swivelled on his head as he tried to gauge where he was, but his attention was quickly taken by how soft the bed and blanket combo was. He settled back down, feeling slightly groggy. He also felt hurt from having to go to the vet at all, he always hated it here. As not to startle the dog-boy, Stephen carefully approached him and offered the back of his hand to let the pup sniff him.

“Hey, puppy... You sleepy? I bet you feel real weird now, but you’re okay.” The vet comforted.

Peter looked up to see Strange’s hand in front of him. He sniffed at the hand gently, but backed away from it when he realised that it was the vet. The dog-boy was still mad for being prodded and examined, and most importantly injected, so he curled up under his blanket and hid himself so that Strange could not talk to him any more. Tony did not even seem to be here, which Peter could tell by the lack of his owner’s smell in the room, which only made the pup more upset.

The vet was hardly offended by the pup’s reluctance to socialise with him, and just let his patient be. It was almost hilarious how some patients seem to adore him more than their owners, while the other half hated his guts.

“Your Daddy will be here real soon, and then you’ll be on your way.” Stephen assured and headed out to let Tony know that his pet was awake and ready to be collected soon. Peter ignored the vet as he left, and continued sulking with his tail firmly between his legs. He did not want to see his Daddy, not when Tony was the reason he was even feeling this ill to begin with. If he had not been late, then Peter would not have swallowed the shoelace, and everything would have been fine. He grumbled to himself as he thought it over.

When Stephen called him, Tony had gone to put on his shoes and coat before even answering the phone and was already on his way when the vet said he could come collect his pet. In the meantime, Peter was moved from recovery to a cage in the normal ward for the other hybrids patients. The nurses had noticed that the dog-boy was in a foul mood, and did not bother him for long. Letting Tony in, Stephen pointed to the cage where his pet was.

“Hi, puppy love!” Tony chuckled a little tearily and opened the cage door to stroke his pet. “I was so worried- oh, but, you’re all okay now. You’ll be getting so many treats at home, oh, yes you are.”

Peter was facing the wall when Tony came up to the cage he was in, and even despite being upset at his owner he could not resist turning to greet him. However, when Tony held his hand out to stroke him, Peter growled in response. It should have been enough to make Tony stop, but when the man continued reaching for him, the dog-boy lunged forward and bit his Daddy’s hand.

“Ah, fuck! Jesus!” Tony yelped and pulled his hand back, looking up at his pet in shock. He shut the cage door, and then looked at his hand where he had clear teeth marks between his thumb and pointy finger. Peter had bitten him before, but those were nibbles at best, but this was the first proper bite. And Tony was not pleased. “Bad dog.” He said lowly, letting the words sink in before he rose from the floor to stand up again.

It was like a cold bucket of water had been poured over Peter when he heard those words, and he scrambled backwards in his cage as the door shut in front of him. He was trembling again, this time at his own actions of upsetting his Daddy, and he blinked quickly as tears collected at the corners of his eyes.

Tony could see that Peter was upset and filled with instant regret, but this was bad enough for him to not forgive the dog-boy right away. Instead, he raised his hand to let a concerned Stephen have a look at it.

“Has he bitten you before?”

“Just nibbled, so no, never like this.” Tony said, looking at the marks on his hand where Peter had scraped the top layers of his skin. There was no blood.

Peter went back to facing the wall, but his shoulders were shaking with quiet cries. He also pulled the blanket up around his shoulders and over his head, ignoring the noises from the cages and other hybrids around him. He was scared how Tony would react to being bitten for the first time.

“It’s not deep enough to need a rabies vaccine, but you should still get it cleaned.” Stephen said and showed the way to help Tony clean the scrapes. Before leaving, Tony looked over his shoulder at Peter in the cage.

“Could you, uhm- have him muzzled when I bring him home?” Tony asked, and hated the fact that he had to ask such a thing to be done to his precious pet. Stephen nodded understandingly, then led the way out of the room.

Peter did not hear any details of Strange and Tony’s conversation, the blanket over his head muffling his hearing. It seemed like forever before he heard footsteps over in his direction again, and he could not resist peeking out from the blanket and looking over his shoulder to see who it was. When it was Strange, accompanied by a male and female nurse, the boy shrunk back again with a fearful growl.

Opening the cage door swiftly, Stephen pulled back the blanket and threw it over Peter’s head, covering him in darkness and disorienting him for long enough for him and the two nurses to lift him out and hold him down to the floor. They kept the blanket over Peter’s eyes, but pulled it back just long enough to work the muzzle on him and secured it behind his head. This was not exactly the first time they had dealt with aggressive and frightened hybrids. Before Peter knew what had happened, he was put back in his cage with a muzzle on his head.

“Your Daddy will come get you very soon.” Stephen assured to Peter before leaving again.

Peter blinked momentarily, but his gaze was pulled down to the brown muzzle that was strapped around his face. He let out a howl, and instantly began pawing at it to try and pull it off of his face. However, there was no budging the muzzle, even when Peter tried to kick it off by bringing his feet up to his face.

When Peter started howling, some of the other hybrids, both canine and feline, started making noise too in response, whimpering and whining. However, after a while they all settled till Tony returned to the room, accompanied by a nurse this time. The CEO went to the cage where his pet was, and crouched down by him. His hand was now bandaged and he let the dog-boy see it before speaking.

“This is what you get, Peter, because bad dogs get muzzles. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Peter thought he had finished crying, but when Tony appeared again with a bandaged hand it was enough for him to begin tearing up once more. It took him a moment to speak, as he tried his best to steady his breathing.

“I’m s-sorry, Master.” The dog-boy had not referred to Tony as ‘master’ since he had first got him, and his voice quivered as he spoke.

That definitely caught Tony by surprise, and he raised his brow as he looked at his pet. All of a sudden he regretted asking the vet to muzzle his boy in the first place, but then he remembered that he had to stand by his punishment. If he did not, Peter would never listen to him again.

“Thank you for apologising, but the muzzle will stay on till I decide otherwise. Now, come to Daddy.” He said, reaching his hand out once more for his pup. But, this time he did so through the closed cage door.

Peter hesitated moving forward, but eventually came towards the closed cage door and hung his head low for Tony to pet it through the bars. He relaxed as Tony pet that special spot behind his ears, the one that made him almost purr like a cat. He didn’t say much else, he simply made soft, mewling noises as Tony pet him through the bars.

“There’s a good puppy...” Tony mused as he scratched at Peter’s favourite spot. Although he was a bit mad at the dog-boy still, he could not help but feel incredibly relieved that his precious pet was okay. “You feeling okay, pet? The doctor said you might feel a bit sick and woozy for the next few days. He gave me a list of foods that should make you feel better.”

Peter was feeling pretty non-verbal at that point, so he simply whined sadly in response to Tony’s question. He was almost pushing his head up against the bars of the cage with how much he wanted his Daddy’s soothing touch, one that scratched his scalp. It could not move much further than that though, as the muzzle prevented Tony from petting Peter under the chin, where he liked it.

“Oh, I know...” Tony agreed when Peter whined so pitifully. “We’ll go home soon, pet, once the doctor says we can.” He added and continued to scratch Peter through the bars until he got an idea and turned to the nurse. “Could I sit with him somewhere? To cuddle him?”

“Of course.” The nurse replied, and showed Tony to some soft mats on the floor. To get Peter over, Tony opened the cage and reached his hands out in a non-verbal question.

Peter hesitated for a moment, but ultimately crawled out of the cage and into his Daddy’s arms. He curled up into a tight ball on Tony’s lap as the man sat down on the soft mat, nuzzling his forehead against his chest. He whimpered, though, at how the muzzle stopped him from properly pressing his face against Tony.

“Shh, you’re okay, you’re okay. Just rest now, Pete. I got you, pup.” Tony cooed when Peter whimpered and began stroking back the dog-boys ears. They were a bit tense still, and drawn back in a fearful and anxious manner. Or remorseful and sorry. “Daddy’s okay, I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.” Tony added, just to be sure in case Peter was torturing himself mentally. Although the hybrids could talk, they only did so when it was necessary.

Finally in his Daddy’s arms, Peter relaxed where he lay across his lap. He had been resting all night since swallowing the shoelace with how the drugs had forced him asleep and kept him groggy. But, laying like this on Tony’s lap, Peter felt himself relax properly. It felt just right. This is where he belonged, and that was the last thought he had before succumbing to sleep, but this time it was peaceful.

The next time Peter woke up, he sniffed the air experimentally to try and orientate himself. He smelt home, and so he forced his eyes open to see that he was in his own dog bed next to Tony’s bed. He was back home. An overwhelming sense of relief washed over him and he lay back down, but he snapped his eyes open again when he realised that there was nothing on his head. Even in his still drowsy state, the pup remembered what had happened earlier. He had bit his master, and as a consequence he had been muzzled. But, there is no muzzle strapped to his head now.

“Hey, you up, puppy love?”

At the sound of a gentle voice, Peter looked to the door and saw Tony walking in. His Tony. Overwhelmed with delight, the dog-boy stood up, only to stubble over his wobbly feet and fall to the carpeted floor. The man rushed over with a few quick strides and crouched down the floor.

“Hey, hey, easy.” Tony chuckled when he saw that Peter had not hurt himself, then arranged the puppy back into his bed and stroked back his ears. “You need to take it easy, pup.” And Peter obeyed, and closed his eyes again. In the stillness of the bedroom, the dog-boy relaxed fully. With every breath he took, he could smell Tony. The scent was hypnotising to Peter, and he felt himself start to drift off again, but he yipped in surprise at having his shoulder being shaken.

“How about some food? You must be starving.” Peter did not realise just how hungry he was until Tony said that, and almost on command his stomach rumbled. The puppy even squirmed at the feeling and with a coo, Tony picked him up from the dog-bed. “There’s my good puppy. I’ll get you fed, don’t you worry.” The man cooed again with Peter in his arms. “And something that is not shoelaces.”

At the sarcastic jab, Peter looked up at his master and started nipping at his neck and ears.

“Ow, ow!” Tony laughed and tried to dodge Peter’s half hearted attacks. “Hey, hey!” But, Peter kept going for a bit longer to hear more of Tony’s laughter. He could feel how the man’s chest rumbled against his own torso, and it eased away the last of the regret he had in his heart from biting Tony. “Okay, okay. We’re even now. We all good?”

Peter yipped happily. They were more than good, they were happy.

#my fics #richie pup #puppy!peter #starker #starker fic #tony stark x peter parker #peter parker #tony stark

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paulfwesley · 4 years

Text

A Split Second (Part 1) [Bryce Lahela x f!MC]

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x f!MC (Dr. Claire King).

Chapter Rating: T

Word Count: 2.2K.

Description: A split second. That’s all it takes to take a life. TW: guns, violence, blood.

Disclaimer: Characters, storyline, and parts of the dialogue are taken from Pixelberry’s Choices’ Open Heart. They fully own the characters, dialogue, backgrounds, etc. MC Claire King’s background is my own creation, based off of MC in-game’s personality.

Author’s Note: OKAY this is my first time EVER doing Bryce, and even though he technically does not show up in this part, he WILL be in the next part. I’m posting this fic in increments just to feel out the reaction first, if it’s something worth pursuing. I’ve added some trigger warnings just in case, they’re in the description! They’re applicable to the whole series, however many parts this ends up being, I don’t actually know yet. Okay, I’ve gone on too long. Let me know how I did! Also let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the tag list!

Tagging: @n-wahz @anotherbeingsworld @graphitekayla @malxen @rookiefromedenbrook

Enjoy!

As a doctor, Claire King stared death in the face every day. It was her job to delay the inevitable, after all. Every chest compression, every dose of medication, and every correct diagnosis resulted in Claire’s tally against Death inching higher and higher. But of course, there were always a few cases where even Claire couldn’t beat the Grim Reaper. And she’d walk out of the room of the grieving family with a fire stewing in her belly that drove her to want to do better so that the next time she and death met in the arena, she’d knock him out cold.

Claire knew death. Claire understood death. She woke up every morning with a determination that she would stare death in the face and celebrate when she triumphed over it.

But she didn’t fully understand what it meant to stare death in the face until she stood with her hands in the air, tears streaking down her pale cheeks, and her body shaking like a leaf as she stared at the end of a gun poised in her face.

30 minutes earlier…

Claire thought she would had it all figured out. Ethan ditched her to hang out in the Amazon for two months (though Sienna insisted that technically Ethan went to go help out with WHO, but Claire wasn’t in the mood to change her mind about her… ex? Her attending? The dude she slept with twice before he decided he didn’t like having to deal with feelings before buggering off?) so she was going to erase everything that had to do with Ethan Ramsey from her mind. That included only ever referring to him as “Doctor Ramsey”, whilst ignoring the way she missed the way his name tasted on her tongue when she was moaning it. It included putting a smile on her face and reassuring everyone who noticed her drop in mood in the days following when she showed up to work one day to find out that Ethan had left without so much as a goodbye, even though a bottle of pent up sorrow threatened to burst whenever she curled her lips up. And it included forcing herself out of the apartment when her friends wanted to go out while all she wanted to do was lay in bed and wallow in her own sadness.

It was actually Bryce who started it. He could tell something was off with her, but luckily Bryce didn’t pry. The only people who knew why Claire was acting heartsick were Sienna and Elijah, and even then, it was because they were there the morning she snuck Ethan out of the apartment. If it were up to her, nobody would know the mess she had gotten into by falling for her attending. Grey’s Anatomy gave her too much hope.

All Bryce wanted to know was what would make Claire happy. It started out simple; nights drinking at Donahue’s, roommate movie night, late night ice cream runs. Then it was Bryce attending plays with Claire, because none of their other friends would even humour her idea for live theatre. It was nice, even though most of the time, Bryce fell asleep shortly after the play began, only to wake up with intermission and then fall asleep again as soon as the house lights turned off. And then it was Claire attending a monster truck rally with Bryce because Elijah cancelled last minute, and even though she spent most of the evening thinking about the various dishes she could be cooking, it was worth it to watch Bryce freak out at the trucks crushing each other and then turning to her expectantly, waiting for her reaction. For his sake, she went as wild and crazy as he was. Standing there, staring up at Bryce and looking at the way the bright lights cast a shadow against his sharp, soft cheekbones, that was the first time she felt a turning in a stomach, a flutter that warmed her cold core. And when he turned and grinned at her, Claire felt like she had seen the sun for the first time.

Then, when the yearning to be touched and held and kissed became too much for Claire, it turned into stolen kisses, hand brushes, intimate nights. With every swipe of Bryce’s hand up and down her arm while her head rested in the crook of his shoulder, with every tear that rolled down her cheeks from the jokes he told her, with every moment spent just in Bryce’s presence, her heart hurt a little bit less. And less, and less, until she completely forgot that she was supposed to be hurting.

Then Ethan returned, unexpectedly, the night they were celebrating their last night as interns.

When Claire’s eyes met his across the bench outside Donahue’s, she expected her stomach to drop. She expected her throat to close up, her chest to tighten, her tears to threaten at the corner of her eyes. Instead, she offered him a polite smile and a small nod before returning to what Elijah was saying. That feeling was all she needed to know that she was officially over Ethan Ramsey. She could be happy with someone else. She even had a certain meat headed, smooth talking, scalpel jockey in mind.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught Bryce staring at her and following her gaze. When he looked back at her, she could practically see the curtain drop over his eyes, and it remained there for days following. Whenever she tried to talk to him, she always got the brush off. And it was killing her. She had gotten used to the the way his laughter lit up her world, the way his eyes raking over sent a thrill through her stomach, the way her heart skipped a beat whenever she turned a corner and hoped that he’d be on the other side. But nothing; these days he wouldn’t even look at her.

After finishing her own rounds, making sure Esme had her tasks, and ordering tests for another patient, Claire sighed as she trudged through the hospital. She cradled a heavy case file against her chest sent over from Manhattan Presbyterian that she planned to pore over during her lunch break. She felt a presence beside her, and she looked over to see Sienna falling into step next to her. Her hair was pinned to the top of her head in a messy bun and she looked utterly exhausted, but she offered Claire a bright smile anyways. “Are you on your way to lunch?”

“Yeah,” she answered.

“Cool! I’m starving,” Sienna replied. She nodded at the file in Claire’s arms. “Big, fancy, diagnostic team case?”

Claire laughed. “Yeah.” She glanced down at the papers. “I’m hoping that it’ll be something surgical. That way Bryce will have to talk to me.”

Sienna frowned. “Bryce isn’t talking to you?”

“You haven’t noticed the way he doesn’t look at me anymore?” Claire asked as they walked down the stairs, heading for the cafeteria. “I think it has to do with the fact that…” Claire looked around for prying ears but dropped her voice as a precaution anyways. “... Doctor Ramsey’s back.”

Sienna’s eyes widened. “You told him about Doctor Ramsey?”

“No!” Claire protested. “If it were up to me, that secret would die with Ramsey and me. But I think he can tell.” She raised a brow. “Could you tell? Before you caught me sneaking him out?”

Sienna bit her lip. “Do you want the truth?”

Claire stopped in her tracks. “You mean you knew? Before?”

“I suspected!” Sienna corrected quickly. She walked back over to where Claire had stopped. “I didn’t know anything for sure, but you did mention wanting something to happen between the two of you when you went to Miami. You didn’t tell me anything had happened so I assumed nothing did. But despite that, it was so obvious. The first name Doctor Ramsey ever learned was yours, he kept his mouth shut about what happened with Mrs. Martinez even though as an attending he probably had a legal obligation to tell Doctor Emery, and just the way you both never took your eyes off of each other whenever you shared a room.”

A blush brushed Claire’s cheeks. “Well, I don’t feel like that anymore.” She paused. “Well, I suppose I do, but now I feel like that whenever I see Bryce. And I want to tell him that, but the meathead runs away at the sight of me.”

They both resumed their walking. “I feel like straight up avoidance isn’t Bryce’s style though,” Sienna pointed out. She crossed her arms over her chest. “If you want, I can lock the two of you inside a supply closet until he gets his shit together.”

Claire chuckled. “That offer actually sounds tempting.”

All of a sudden, both of their pagers went off. Claire reached into her pocket and produced hers just as they reached the cafeteria. She frowned at the message that stared back at her before looking back up at Sienna. “Lockdown? Is this some kind of drill?”

“I think if it was, Doctor Banerjee would have said so,” Sienna replied casually. She was trying to pass it off like it was nothing, but Claire could see the worrying lines in her forehead. She reached out and grabbed Sienna’s arm. “How about we skip the cafeteria food and just grab something from the vending machine for now? We can hide out in a closet or something until this drill ends.”

“And you’re absolutely sure it’s a drill because?” Sienna asked, but she let Claire lead her away and down the hall.

“Because there’s no way we’re in a situation where Edenbrook has to go under lockdown,” she said. “I bet a baby went missing from the NICU or something.”

Sienna gawked. “That’s terrible!”

Claire stopped at a vending machine, turning her back to Sienna. “All the more reason to grab an unhealthy snack and wait this thing out.” She bent down and placed the file on the floor. As she stood back up, she reached into her pocket for her wallet. “What do you want? It’s on me.”

“Claire…” Sienna’s voice was a soft whisper.

“What?” Claire said, her eyes scanning the options. A Snickers bar? Nah. It wasn’t filling enough. A bag of chips? That was even worse. This was a hospital. They were doctors. They always went on about healthy eating yet never practiced what they preached.

“Claire!” Sienna said, louder this time, though the tremors in her voice betrayed the strength.

“What?” Claire’s tone dripped with annoyance as she turned to look at her friend, but the sight of Sienna’s face, drained of blood with her eyes wide and her lips parted with a slight tremble raised alarms. “Sienna? Sienna, what is it?”

Sienna didn’t say anything. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. But her eyes never wavered from the direction she was staring at over Claire’s shoulder.

Claire turned to see what Sienna was gaping at, and her stomach fell through the floor at the sight of the tall, middle-aged man standing six feet away from them. He wore a black blazer over a plain t-shirt flecked with bright red spots that Claire could only assume was fresh blood from the way it stained the pure white fabric. Blessed (or cursed, in her opinion) with an excellent memory, Claire never forgot a face once she had seen it. It was Walter Cameron, a patient she had treated weeks ago. He came in after he had been in a car accident that caused mild injuries, and Claire remembered joking easily with him as she pulled out glass from his body and stitching him up. Claire’s eyes traveled from his brown eyes, down his sweat soaked cheeks, down his leather clad arm, and landed on the pistol in his hand, aimed directly at Claire’s chest.

Her breath caught in her throat. The only sounds she could make out in the otherwise silent, empty hallway were Sienna’s faint whimpering behind her, Walter’s ragged breaths, and her own heart thumping against her chest.

She felt a shaky hand on her shoulder. “Claire, we need to get out of here!” Sienna whisper-shouted.

“No!” Walter boomed, taking a rather large step forward. He brandished the gun at them, waving it wildly as his finger rested on the trigger. Both girls let out an involuntary shrieks as they staggered backwards. “Doctor King isn’t going anywhere.” He turned the gun so the mouth was directed at Sienna. “You, on the other hand, will get out of here.” With a jerk of his thumb, he clicked the safety off. “If you know what’s good for you.”

Claire swallowed thickly. Despite the tremors in her throat, she said, “Sienna, go.”

She could feel Sienna’s eyes stare at her in bewilderment, but Claire never broke eye contact with Walter. “What? But Claire—!”

“Go!” Claire said again, stronger this time. She didn’t know Walter, not really, so she couldn’t guarantee whether or not he was crazy enough to take a shot at her or her friend, and Claire didn’t want to jeopardize anyone else’s life if there was a chance to save someone. Under her breath, her lips barely moving, she whispered, “Go find help.”

The echoing of a sneaker hitting linoleum reluctantly bounced against the walls. One, and then another, and then another, until the echoes got further and further as Sienna dashed down the hall in desperation.

Once she was out of sight, Claire returned her attention to Walter. Slowly, deliberately, she raised her hands so they were in his sight.

“Ahh, alone at last,” Walter sighed dreamily.

Claire sucked a worrying breath in. “Mr. Cameron—” she began.

“It’s Wally!” he cut her off angrily, but the heat in his eyes quickly disappeared in favour of turning soft as he gazed at Claire. “It’s Wally, remember, Doctor King? Like Wally West? Like you said?”

She nodded. “Yes, I remember.” She gulped noisily, her eyes zeroing in on the weapon in his hands. “What are you doing with the gun, Wally?”

He scoffed. “Isn’t it obvious?” He smiled at her, a wicked glint in his eye. “I’m going to kill you, Doctor King.”

#open heart #playchoices #bryce lahela x mc #bryce lahela #open heart fanfiction #open heart fanfic #bryce lahela x mc fanfiction #bryce lahela x mc fanfic #alinas fanfic #sienna trinh #don't let this flop lmfao #OH #choices: stories you play #TW: blood #TW: guns

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ugsoovin · 4 years

Text

things are shaping up to be pretty odd

hi gais its me ya gurl, blue. here’s some details on ya new best girl lee soovin.

lee soovin born on 6/13/95 in busan

bisexual demiromantic but not out to her family

infj, ravenclaw maybe but fuck jk rowling, chaotic good

lead guitarist for ctrl

daughter to an old school rocker from busan (but not a super famous one lol)

heavily interested in witchcraft, shamanism, mythology, conspiracies, puzzle

dropped out while getting a degree in computer science

works as a session musician at a well known studio, booked n busy

bio quick ver.

tw terminal illness death / the short story is her dad was sick prior to her birth and eventually passed away when she was six. this really broke down her mom into someone quite melancholic, as it easily might, and later on the death of her grandfather when soovin was sixteen prompted her mom to uproot them and move to seoul

she was teenager pissed abt this but moving to seoul also led to her finding some old stuff of her father’s, found out that he was a front man for a rock band back in the day, decided to try taking her music from her bedroom to a stage

went through two bands before getting to ctrl. first was a indie folk outfit called moon rocks, then a pop punk girl band called after hours. she never felt perfectly at home in either but she was mostly happy to be playing.

tw mental illness / has had severe lapses into depression, treated with medication and therapy in the past though she doesn’t reliably maintain either treatment method now

started guitar at nine, been in three bands, indie folk > pop punk > alt rock (current)

now works as a studio/session musician for hire at a popular studio and, frankly, does a good job of it, comfortable across genre, but really only shows off when she’s out w ctrl lmao

personality

she’s a train off the rails in more ways than one. perpetual motion machine, afraid that if she stops moving that gaping maw of depression will swallow her up again, so she just doesn’t stop. doesn’t stop moving or working or playing or fucking or drinking. just keeps going, endlessly, wearing herself down to the marrow. nbd right? totally fine. very sustainable.

despite how that might make her sound, she’s introverted enough and not super chatty. she’s well placed with her words and speaks more in her actions, unless you get her started on one of her Interests. then, expect an earful of conspiracy theory shit. but nothing damaging - get your vaccines, the earth is round, etc.

kind of an adrenaline junkie, if we’re being fully honest, and prone to rash decisions, disorderly conduct (but not as much as some, glances at rina accusatorially). skateboards, enjoys exercise but goes to a new gym every three months or so to take advantage of new member policies.

loves music, always wants to do more music, always wants to experiment with her music. luckily, working as a session musician means she’s always playing tons of different stuff so it works out.

headstrong, bright eyed, earnest. she’s got a big heart and big dreams. she is also big stubborn and can be dismissive as fuck if she feels like you’re not worth the time. has a tendency towards being a bit off the wall, not super well grounded in reality. head in the clouds would be a nice way to put it, or dreamy. fucking delusional if you’re rude.

spiritually inclined, maybe looking for answers still after being exposed to too much death, too normalized, too sorrowfully, so young. just wants to feel like there’s more to the world, wants there to be something beyond the mundane, still seeking out her greater purpose in this life. has big romanticized dreams in that respect. probably lends well to her artistry.

trivia

shes weird, like, luna lovegood adjacent in a way?? cassie from skins??? ish??. not quite as comical or one note (i mean she’s a developed character here ok) but like maybe she believes earnestly in aliens and maybe she casually reads up on the powers of crystals, and maybe she would like nothing more than to be reborn as a magical girl. but like, franchise dependent. ya girl not tryna go madoka magica here. tarot cards? sure. palm reading? loves it. saju? even better. she has an odd fixation on the macabre, morbid, unsettling, and otherwise bizarre, furthermore. hobbies also include urban exploring, casual ghost hunting, and skateboarding.

got really into horror movies and games when in a deep depression. tends to seek out media that elicits strong reaction and gets immersed in it. also got really into ARG (alternate reality games) and puzzles, enjoying ciphers, codes, codebreaking, programming, and so on as a result. lowkey a mathwiz, was posed to do very well in computer programming before she, you know, hit rock bottom, thanks brain.

plot twist, that’s how she ended up so interested in coming up with weird clues and puzzles and ciphers for CTRL. fans still haven’t found a good half of them but she’s getting better at making them just solvable enough without being massively boring.

plots

im up for anything, lets make trouble, lets have some angst, whatever. the more anguish and heartache the better. this is long ENOUGH so before i die of rambling i’ll stop here and leave specific plots for another time lmao.

#ooc #intro

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mai-nonsense · 4 years

Note

Basics: 2, 6. Appearance: 4. Personality: 3, 8,9. Background: 1, 5. Relationships: 1, 3, 4, 7. Fun facts: 1, 7, 10.

*claps hands together* Alright! I'm going to do the answers for my Shepards, otherwise I'll be here all week.

2. What does their name mean? Why are they named that?

Jane: The original reason she's named that is because I was too lazy to think of a name so I just went with the default (she was my first ever Shepard), now I Headcannon that she went by Shepard until she joined up with the alliance, so she chose the name Jane because it's the only one that came to mind

Cassidy: I don't really pay attention to what names actually mean when I name characters, but I named her that b/c it's pretty and she just kinda looked like Cassidy

Henri: Henry is a family name on both sides of my family, but I wanted to use it as for a femshep b/c I like androgynous names (partly because I have one, but also because I think there should be more of them in circulation)

Damien: His name was originally Darren but I changed it b/c my sister and mum pointed out that Darren's a bit bogan. And instead of owning it I covered it up like a coward. I renamed him Damien because my favorite Robin is Damian Wayne and litteraly no other reason

Vance: named after the singer Vance Joy, b/c his songs have a lot of emotional significance to me and I like the name

Ryan: he's my only actual Canadian Shepard and my mum and I have a running joke about all Canadians being named Ryan (b/c of Ryan Reynolds, Ryan Gosling etc.) So he's Ryan.

6. What's their star sign, birthstone etc? Does it hold any special significance for them?

All of them besides Vance have Shepard's canon birthday and none of them besides Cassidy have any belief in that kind of thing. Cassidy is a quietly spiritual kind of woman so she likes the whole star sign/ birthstone kind of thing, but she'd never admit out loud.

4. Appearance- How do they carry themselves? What is their default expression?

Jane has resting bitch face. She walks around like she's going to go beat someone up, probably because she usually is.

Cassidy has a very casual, approachable demeanor about her. Her go-to expression is either concern or pouting.

Henri carries herself shoulders back, chin up and head held high. Her usual expression is a mix of serious and thoughtful

Damien carries himself like a serious soldier but with a hint of sadness, he has resting sad face

Vance also walks around like he's looking for a fight and he's usually scowling

Ryan has a cocky swagger and usually has a sideways smile on his face

Personality 3. What are their hobbies and interests?

Jane: Is gun-modding a hobby? Because if so then that's one of them. She genuinely enjoys the combat part of being a soldier and enjoys training herself to be a deadly weapon, a side effect of growing up in the reds most likely. She doesn't really have many interests outside of being a solider, and doesn't really eat anything outside of protein bars and ready-meals.

Cassidy: she likes to mod games in her spare time, and practices her hacking skills a lot in order to keep herself sharp. She has a fondness for Turian and Salarian pop-culture, video games especially.

Henri: Henri likes hard copy books, with old-fashioned dust jackets and everything. Even with new release publications, she'll always go out of her way to find a hard copy if she really wants to read it. She usually reads non-fiction but she's a sucker for a good romance novel.

Damien: Also throws himself into his work so much that he barely has any free time. On the rare occasion that he does, he likes to build things, usually model ships or card towers (which he knocks down immediately after)

Vance: Vance actually really enjoys cooking, it's something he used to do with his mum when he was little so it's his way of keeping her alive in spirit

Ryan: Ryan has a penchant for old earth comic books and music from the 20/21st century, he likes to draw and regularly carries a sketchbook

8. What are their manners like? Any habits?

Jane's manners are atrocious. She's straightforward, tactless and blunt, which gets her in trouble quite a bit. She's not a fan of sparing feelings, if you're doing something that's pissing her off, she'll let you know

Cassidy is also pretty blunt, but has a lot more tact and isn't as crass as Jane. She's nice whenever possible but she doesn't skirt around issues

Henri is anxious people-pleaser that always looks for the best in everyone at heart, but has a polite but proffesional exterior.

Damien varies depending on his mood, Mass Effect 1 Damien is polite and proffesional but that drops as time goes by. By the time ME:3 rolls around he is 1000% done and doesn't have time to put up with anyone's shit and reacts to social situations accordingly

Vance goes in the opposite direction to Damien, starts off rude and aggressive but gradually softens as time goes by.

Ryan has decent manners, but can often be inappropriate in social situations

9. What are they most afraid of?

Jane: before falling for Kaidan, it's falling for Kaidan, because she hates having intense emotions about people that she can't control. After falling for Kaidan, it's anything bad happening to Kaidan. She doesn't really care for her own well-being but she constantly worries about and will protect her friends and loved ones at all costs.

Cassidy: Dying. Specifically, dying again and Garrus continuing down the dark path she found him on after her resurrection. She'd hate for him to completely lose hope like that again.

Henri: dissapointing those around her.

Damien: Also letting everyone down.

Vance: Everyone he cares about dying painfully.

Ryan: spiders.

Background, 1. Where were they born, what was their childhood like?

Jane was born in Brisbane, believe it or not, she gets carted off to one of her aunts in America at age 4. After that it's foster home to home for her until she ditches them for the reds at 10. Needless to say, her childhood was rough.

Both Vance and Henri were born and raised on Mindoir. They both had good childhoods until Batarians killed their families.

Damien was born in Chicago. He spent his childhood being bandied about from alliance ship to alliance ship. He spent a lot of his childhood alone.

Cassidy was born in New York, but has the spacer background. Her mother had a much more caring presence then Damien's however, so she grew up well.

Ryan was born in Montreal, spent his childhood in and out of foster homes until he was 14, when he joined the reds for protection. Despite this, he views his childhood in a positive light, as he knows he's come a long way since those days.

5. Where do they currently live? What's their place like?

I'm going to skip this one because I don't have a good answer for any of them at the moment lol.

Relationships, 1. Do they have any friends? Who would they consider their best friend?

Jane has more friends/people who care about her then she thinks she does. She considers her best friend to be either Miranda or Liara.

Cassidy gives off chill older sister vibes and treats her crew as family, so a lot of people come to her for support or just for an ear. She loves talking tech with Tali and considers her to be her best friend, with Ashley coming in as a close second.

Henri initially has more colleagues then friends, but she learns to loosen up and to have a more relaxed approach to the people she cares about. She considers her best friends to be Kaidan and Joker (though her feelings for Joker develop into something more ever time)

Damien has the ruthless background, so he's more feared then loved. He's also quite socially awkward so it's hard for him to make friends to begin with. Despite this, the people who do call him friend do so wholeheartedly. He considers his best friend to be Garrus.

Vance, despite being an asshole, actually has a lot of friends. Because he's a loveable asshole. His best friend is either Liara or Jack.

Ryan is very likeable, and is often the life of the party. But people more look up to him then actually consider him a friend. He considers Kaidan his best friend. (who he's also secretly in love with, but shhhhhhh we'll get to that)

3. What's their love life like? Do they have any kids?

I'm currently using Jane as my "Kaidan as subject zero AU" Shepard, because I think she fits so well with subject0!Kaidan, as I love writing stories about two hardened badasses who just want to be loved, falling in love. Non-au Jane also ends up with Kaidan, and have a daughter named Astra

Cassidy is one of my two Shakarian Sheps, who gets the more 'traditional' happy ending out of the two. That is, she retires somewhere nice with Garrus and they adopt a bunch of orphans together.

Henri is my one and only Joker-mancer, one of these days I will write their story (once I finish planning it out lol) but I currently have other projects at the forefront. As for kids, neither Henri or Joker want them because there would be to many medical factors/lifestyle changes they'd have to consider and they couldn't put that burden on a kid.

Damien's life motto is: no kids, only dogs and he manages to stick by that pretty well. When Vance (his half-brother) has kids he settles into the role of cool uncle though. Though Damien thought he wasn't one for romance at all, he somehow fell in love with Kaidan without realizing it and they eventually end up together.

Vance and Ashley fall hard for each other, and after many hardships and triumphs, they eventually marry and have three kids together

Ryan sleeps around a bit but spends the duration of ME:1 and 2 pining for Kaidan but never saying anything b/c he doesn't want to make it awkward™. Naturally they end up together but it takes a while. Am currently undecided on whether they have kids together or not.

4. Who do they look up to? Who do they trust?

Jane: Anderson. He took her under his wing and believed in her when nobody else did. She comes to trust her inner circle in time. That consisting primarly of Kaidan, Miranda, Jack, Liara, Garrus and Wrex.

Cassidy: Her mother, as she managed to give her a good childhood while in the military as a single mum. She trusts Garrus and Tali with her life.

Henri: Anderson and Hackett both, as they've always pushed her to do her best. She trusts in her crew, as, in her eyes, they've never let her down.

Damien: Hackett, as he gave him a second chance after Torfan and promised him that he wouldn't let him down. People don't trust him on impulse so the people whose trust he earns always have his in return.

Vance, Anderson and Samara. Anderson because he helped him after he lost his family on Mindoir and Samara because she's a powerful biotic with a commanding presence and he learns a lot about discipline from her. Vance eventually learns to trust Damien after not wanting him anywhere near his life for a long time.

Ryan: He tries to find a way to learn at least something from everyone he encounters, good or bad. He doesn't really trust anyone for a very long time but gradually comes to trust in his ME:3 crew

7. Are they good with kids? Animals?

Jane: Surprisingly, yes. Though it can depend on the kid or animal in question *cough star child cough*. She strives to protect those who can't defend themselves and improve lives for future generations.

Cassidy: Very good with both.

Henri: She grew up a farm girl, so she's pretty great with animals. She's good with kids until they start screeching and then she promptly nopes out.

Damien: Good with animals, dogs in particular. Is okay with kids, but doesn't really like interacting with them unless he has a good reason (like them being his niece and nephews).

Vance: Despite growing up a farm boy, he's not too big an animal lover. He loves his own kids, but isn't too big on them in general.

Ryan: Used to hang out with stray cats as a teen. Decent kid-wrangler™.

Fun facts, 1. Which tropes do they fit? which archetypes?

Jane fits the "does bad things for a good goal" trope and potentially fits the stereotypical "bad girl" archetype as well

Cassidy fits with the "protective matriarch/sister" archetype/trope

Henri gives me "girl next door", but with a gun, vibes

Damien fits the "everyone thinks he's evil, but he's really just misunderstood" trope

Vance is def an "asshole with a heart of gold"

Ryan's a himbo

7. What languages do they speak?

Vance knows a tiny bit of Mandarin, and Ryan speaks okay Canadian French, everyone else speaks English and only English for now, though that may change as I find out more about them.

10. What songs remind you of them?

Jane: Missile, Dorothy

Cassidy: Dead Weight, PVRIS

Henri: CHAMPION, Bishop Brigs

Damien: The Phoenix, Fall Out Boy

Vance: What's Up Danger, Blackway ft. Black Caviar

Ryan: You're Gonna Go Far Kid, The Offspring

WOW. I just did a big old-fashioned info dump right there. Sorry about that.

Thanks for the ask!!!

#ask meme #oc asks #crqstalite

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sparklyandchic · 4 years

Text

🦋 MINI MIND MAKEOVER 🦋

okay i started the idea for this mini little mind makeover when i broke up with my boyfriend in like january. instead of being sad or angry, i wanted to be grateful for this time and take it as an opportunity to make life better for myself. then quarantine happened, so some of these are related to things i’ve learned since that started. either way, these aren’t all concrete things to do for your mind; some of them are just ways of thinking or pep talks. but if you can find one little piece of information or thought that makes you a little bit happier for a moment, that’s all i can hope for!

5-htp: okay first off- please ALWAYS consult your psychiatrist or medical professional before taking a supplement! taking 5-htp with, for example, serotonin-increasing medications can lead to a fatal illness called serotonin syndrome. personally, i started taking it because i had been on 10 mg prozac for a few months. it definitely dulled a lot of my anxiety and had a lot of positive aspects to it, but it dulled them almost too much to the point where i felt apathetic and detached from myself and the situations i was in. i was in a very unhealthy relationship and felt like i needed my mental clarity and “overthinking” processes back in order to identify what i was feeling and how to deal with it. i felt a lot more “sensitive” after coming off it, which was actually really welcome for me at first, but then it sort of dropped off into withdrawals. i was having constant panic attacks and crying very often. after a while, i was debating going back on prozac, but remembered i had taken 5-htp before. 5-htp is an amino acid that is a direct precursor to serotonin being produced in the brain. when u eat turkey, tryptophan is converted into 5-htp which leads to your brain producing serotonin, thus why you feel calm and happy afterwards. after taking 5-htp for just a few days, ranging between 200-300 mg per day (again, do your research, ask your doctor, and start small) i stopped crying constantly and really felt this sense of calmness and wellbeing but without the detachment and apathy i felt with prozac. i could still think clearly but didn’t feel overly sensitive to every emotion which arose. personally, it is really a lifesaver and really does make a noticeable difference.

cognitive behavioral therapy: ive tried therapy a million times. well okay, like 5 or 6 different therapists. at its worst, therapists told me i needed to use my sexual power as a woman in order to get what i wanted from men, told me i’m bad at socializing and should do group therapy, said my mom shouldn’t have encouraged me to “be myself” when i was younger because it made me less likeable than if i had conformed to normal societal standards of dressing. i had gone to “therapists” who claimed to be trained in CBT, but when i told them about my experiences with dissociation, the only feedback i got was to “take more baths.” while going through a few unpleasant experiences in my personal life, i decided i should try CBT once more, but like the real kind. i found an ivy-league educated licensed psychologist (NOT a “licensed clinical social worker” who doesn’t even have a psychology degree!!) who SPECIALIZED specifically in cognitive behavioral therapy. just after the first session, i was so elated with my experience. as opposed to just telling me that i needed to be more normal or more kind or a better person, she tried to identify WHAT was making me feel that way about myself in the first place. she pointed out the positive things i do and reassured me i was kind, good, and deserving of good things. she pointed out many aspects of my situation that would have taken me days or weeks to come to on my own. i’ve realized my hubris isn’t that i’m not socially acceptable or not perfect enough, but its just that i tend to THINK that i am these things despite having no evidence of it. so, over time with therapy, my positive self image about who i am as a person has grown and strengthened and i dont just randomly feel like a bad human being anymore lol. moral of the story, if you wanna do therapy but it keeps sucking, dont give up. go to a legit psychologist, find someone who specializes in the type of therapy you’re seeking, and also be vocal during your sessions. stand up to your psychologist when they continually push a narrative onto you, and explain why you don’t agree with it. sometimes it’s their job to try different narratives to see what fits, and if you just passively let them say what they want to, you’ll never find the truth of your experience! it’s a communal effort! therapy isn’t usually a magic cure-all where one session fixes everything that goes awry in your brain. but if you find someone who knows what they’re doing they can in fact really help your thought processes become less twisted up and more clear and healthy.

meditation and mindfulness: a few weeks ago i felt anxious and overly driven to get things done to the point where i spiraled into a space of guilt or a panic attack over not getting enough things done. meditation can be so so helpful here. it’s better to spend an hour sitting and doing nothing, but doing it peacefully and then calmly moving on to doing something else, than to spend 5 hours stressing yourself over every single thing you need to get done and how much time you’re wasting. the things that need to get done will get done. another thing that i’ve realized and say to myself a lot is: “focus not on doing all things perfectly, but on doing the small things well.” by this i mean, stop thinking about the 20 things you need to get done and how it all needs to be perfect, but instead take your time with the task that presents itself as most beneficial right now and focus on enjoying it and giving your whole self to the process. for example, stop thinking about how you need to clean your room, your closet, donate clothes, take a shower, take out the trash, read, workout, etc. think to yourself; “which task would bring me the most joy right now?” if the answer is taking a shower, then take that damn shower. bring your speaker into the bathroom, scrub every inch of your scalp with shampoo, scrub your feet and behind your ears and your neck with body wash, brush the conditioner through your hair fully. you may end your shower with 19 other things to do, but god damn if you can’t enjoy a single one of them and be present for it, what’s the fucking point! go light a candle and bask in its glow, go make your bed and huddle up in your neatly arranged covers, go take a long bath or a thorough shower, and be proud of and content with that today.

relationships, with others and yourself: okay, if you missed the memo, my ex-boyfriend sucked. like genuinely was a bad person. he was a drug dealer, so that’s red flag number 1 (which i ignored of course), he hadn’t graduated high school (he was 18, i was 20, he was supposed to graduate the last semester but refused to do the work and ignored me and his mother when encouraged to do it, which is uhh definitely red flag number 2 which i also ignored), he habitually did not show up for dates on time or lied about what he was going to do or what he did (literally everything he did was a red flag and i rlly ignored all of it). the worst part was how he responded when i worked up the courage to speak to him about it. if we had agreed upon a time for our date but he showed up literally 8 hours late, he would blame it on me because i “could have called” him, or that i was “demanding too much of” him, or that i “should have said something earlier so now [i was] just dragging it out because it already happened.” basically, whatever narrative he pushed at me, i eventually gave into. i’ve dealt with gaslighting in a relationship before and a part of me knew what was happening to me, but a part of me also kept having hope for him, kept empathizing with him, kept wanting to believe in him. after a bit too much time, i finally realized you have to trust yourself, empathize with yourself, and believing in yourself over anyone else. at first i felt bad for him not being able to graduate because i had my own struggles with high school and getting work done. i thought he may have issues but he deserves someone to be there for him because i wanted someone to be there for me. despite the pain and stress he was causing me, i sat around crying over him because i cared about him and tend to over-empathize with people close to me, whether they deserve it or not. my therapist told me something that at first i did not understand, but over time came to grasp in its entirety: “some people do not deserve your love or kindness.” after our first session, my homework was to “consider when you are being kind and when you are being taken advantage of.” this made me realize that what feels like your instinctual nature to be nice to others, can in fact be a self-sabotaging unfair action, depending on the other person’s response. i might be dishing out a lot right now, but bear with me. think of it this way: you regard an action as a “kind action”. you might think “kind actions” include: forgiving someone for large mistakes, putting someone’s needs over yours, sparing them some change when they ask for it, listening to the problems they are dealing with every day. BUT when their actions include not forgiving you for minor mistakes, not giving a sh*t about your needs or considering them, not caring how much money they take from you and how much money you need to have around, or habitually glossing over your problems because it doesn’t benefit them to care, THEN those actions you performed are NOT “KIND ACTIONS” anymore. the act of continuing to give them leeway is now the act of being taken advantage of. the act of giving them money is now the act of being taken advantage of. the act of buying into their story at the expense of your sanity, is now the act of being taken advantage. basically, all i’m saying is START PUTTING YOURSELF FIRST AND TRUSTING YOURSELF WHEN YOU FEEL SOMEONE DOESN’T HAVE YOUR BEST INTERESTS IN MIND.

ending thoughts: i know quarantine is difficult right now. the desire to grow contrasted with the inability to move. maybe try and follow that old 2008~ quote; “bloom where you are planted”. you might not be able to reach the goals you thought you would during this time. you might not be able to run a marathon or make a bunch of new friends or wake up at 6 AM to workout or redo your bedroom or get a rhinoplasty or join a gym or get an internship. working towards productivity might be unrealistic right now. but you can work everyday towards becoming the woman you want to be, mentally. you can work on learning to be content, learning to make the best with what you have, learning to appreciate the little things, learning to slow down. these are all qualities that i for one want to have just as much as i want to be attractive or successful. if you can’t enjoy success, what’s the fucking point! life is on pause right now, take this moment as a gift and consider your internal world and what parts of your mind need a makeover. there are horrible things happening in the world right now, do what you can to help, but if you’re safe and healthy then be grateful for the things you can learn from this difficult time. take it slow, but keep moving forward!

#happyandchic #happy and chic

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allyisapunkrocker · 4 years

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Trigger Warning for discussion of depression, suicide, self harm etc.

I don’t think I’ve had as an eventful month in my life as I’ve had in the last month or so other than maybe my last month of high school and schoolies. A month or so ago I tried to admit myself in the hospital for depression and suicidal thoughts as if I didn’t I would’ve cut my arms and my legs and possibly my genitals. I was having a difficult time not being able to deal with my interactions at work and feeling like a freak and like I had no one in my life I could talk to and had an extreme fear of never having anyone close in my life. I was making friends at work though and they’re genuinely lovely people who I’ve always liked and was grateful they were befriending me and trying to help. One of them who is still my favourite person helped me not feel like a freak. I was still self loathing and suicidal though. There were other lovely people who would talk to me and treat me like a person and offered to help me. I went clothes shopping with them which was such an awkward horrible experience despite having amazing company. The shopping part - trying on clothes in the change room was traumatic and had me crying. This and the fact that these people were talking to me and trying to help but weren’t making me feel any better - just made me feel worse and hopeless, like it wasn’t possible for me to feel or get better. My favourite person assured me It was and promised we’d talk after she got back from her trip. She left for her much deserved holiday and very wisely cut herself off from technology and social media and was prioritising her mental health which she has all the right to do and I’m not blaming her or laying any guilt on her or anything like that. I applaud her for prioritising herself and her mental health. It was just difficult for me to not have her to talk to as often as I needed to. I was drinking heavily and considering downing all my medicine in one go or drinking bleach. I had been an absolute toxic nightmare not only to people at work that I didn’t like or care about but to people there that I liked and that care(d) about me. I’d be talking about different violent things I wanted to do to myself as I didn’t care anymore about myself or anything. So at my absolute lowest I went to the hospital - my psychologist Told me that this should be a last resort and in my mind it was. They wouldn’t admit though me and instead gave me a talking to and sent me home saying I could come back and talk if I needed. It was an absolute waste of time and not helpful in the slightest. A week or so later I made an appointment to see a psychiatrist I had that I haven’t seen since I started my job around two years ago.

After seeing my psychologist I started feeling a little better. I was still in a dark deep depression and didn’t have any belief that things could get better but I at least started trying to be grateful for the friends at work and the fact that I was employed at this really bad time. While I was looking for my favourite person to be the friend I thought she was I made another friend in another of my favourite people in the workplace and she would help put things in perspective while also being patient with my toxic bullshit. When my favourite person came back from her break continuing to prioritise her mental health - which I love and hope it helps and that it helps her feel good, it’s the least she deserves - meaning not answering messages until she felt like it or got around to it. It was difficult for me to deal with and it was frustrating but it was more at me as I wasn’t being emotionally mature enough to not take it personally as it’s something she needs to do for her. At the same time my new friend is still patiently helping me through my toxic shit while occasionally showing tough love that at the time I was also struggling with. I wasn’t feeling any better but I had good examples of people I respect and admire and who have overcome horrible mental health problems and demonstrate healthy practices that they work on to improve their lives. These were seeds that were planted in me that have began to grow. I get a lot out of talking to these people. They’re both intelligent and brave and mentally tough. And have huge hearts as well. They’ve become my role models.

So that brings us to the last couple of weeks which pretty much started at my most recent appointment with my psychiatrist. I had believed I could’ve been bipolar due to my drastic changes in moods - which had recently seemed even more severe. She perceptively suggested that it could’ve been a severe mood instability and prescribed me some medication. This medication in conjunction with my realisation that what I wanted in life was people to be close with - friends, lovers etc. however this was an impossibility while i hated myself. No one would want to be around me if I didn’t want to be around me. Also I knew my mood and how I’m feeling couldn’t be dependent on interactions with the people I like. As I was noticing my mood would rise around my favourite people but then drop drastically if the interaction didn’t go how I wanted it to. I would think the worst and always blame myself and try to force things instead of just let whatever happens happen. I need to be in a healthy mindset in order to live the life that I want. So after a few weeks of being on this medication.......

My mental state is the best it’s ever been. I’m in love but I’m not allowing my mood to be dictated by interactions with her or with anyone else I like at work or anywhere. I’m actively working on focusing on the positives in my life and the things I’m grateful for and if things dont go my way I accept it and go on with my day. I’m going to treat and love myself the way I treat people I love and the way I’d want them to treat and love me. I’m going to work on being organised and thoughtful and work on being a good influence in my life. I’m going to use the skills I see my favourite people use in their struggles with their problems to build a repertoire of life skills that help me build a life worth living. I’ve been writing about goals and dreams and I have a mental happy place for the first time since I had soccer as a child. I’ve been getting positive feedback about my writing and people telling me it makes them happy to read which is wonderful to hear because it makes me happy to write. I’m interacting positively with coworkers and have become much better with customers as I’m not letting things I have no control over impact me negatively.

My immediate goals (I cant believe I have goals, the only goals I’ve had for the past 20 years were dying or wanting to want to be alive more than I want to die) are to continue writing and to be there for my friends at work if they need to talk or anything else. I’m going to continue to actively try to be positive and grateful and a safe non judgmental person that people can talk to if they need to vent or need a nonjudgmental ear to talk to. I’m going to try new things and not be scared to fail. I’m going to work at things I need to do to adult properly. I’m going to limit crap I put in my body and watch and limit the negative affects I have on the environment as that’s an important value I want to align my lifestyle choices with. This is such a weird turn of events and a weird time in my life but it’s an amazing change and for the first time since I can remember I have ambitions and goals and dreams for a future where I’m content and surrounded with love and laughter and fashion and the environment.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk. I guess the purpose of this other than it being an outlet for getting this all off my chest is to show people that things can get better. I’m not saying it will. But it’s possible.

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batfamfucker · 4 years

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Anyway, bit personal, but I got tested yesterday for Covid 19 and my results are positive. I only live with my mother, whose results are negative, so I'm okay. I'm 18 and healthy for the most part so I'll likely be fine, honestly most of the time (There are moments where I feel incredibly weak, where I can't eat without feeling nauseated, when I feel like I'm coughing out my lungs, etc) it feels like a long hangover, with a lot of coughing, and no sense of smell or taste, and ears that feel cold enough to feel like they're burning, even though they're not actually cold. So, it pretty much, for me, it feels like a hangover with a really bad cold, or maybe like a 'five minutes from fainting after cleaning my room (Too much movement takes a lot out of me at the minute) that feels like that time I had period cramps so bad I almost passed out after throwing up'. Basically, I'm not dying so it could be worse, but I can feel awful, dirty, and/or groggy, and it can be draining.

I likely got it from a close friend when we and some others went out for food the other night, or we both picked it up during our time out. At the time (I live in England, Greater Manchester, we went out Thursday and the country's regulations literally changed at midnight, they gave constituents from Greater Manchester literally three hours notice about this rule. Also, they weren't specific at all because the 'Greater Manchester area' covers different places depending on who you ask, it's a rant I'm not going to get into because it was a scheme used to disrupt plans for Eid celebrations and that rant would take all day because Islamophobia is a huge problem in this country, and it was blatantly obvious that that was the reasoning for it and it wasn't actually about keeping people safe), groups were allowed to eat out and such so long as the number was under six, there were five of us so it should've been fine. Thankfully, none of our other friends seem to have it.

I would like to say, though, that just because I, personally, am not being affected by it significantly at this time, it doesn't mean that others won't be, as if the death toll and literal international lockdown still isn't enough for some people to get it through their thick skulls that, hey, maybe don't be a dick and risk people's lives??? So please just be careful and stay safe. It's not worth it. Wear a mask (If I see one more person saying they refuse to, I'm gonna deck them. "I can't breathe when I wear one", shut up, yes you can. Believe me, it's harder to breathe when trying to shove a swab down your throat or trying not to hack up your lungs at 3am or when your loved ones are calling you asking if you're okay and you don't wanna worry them so you hold in your coughs, etc, now shut up and wear it), keep your distance, etc. Even if you're like me, it's still exhausting, and the panic that comes with thinking you could've passed it on is also extremely upsetting. Not to mention, there are cases where people have overcome the actual virus but then ended up with lifelong ailments and/or medical problems, so I promise you it isn't worth the risk. There are also young people dying, too, so you can never be too sure. And even if you'll be okay, you could pass it to someone who won't be. I'm not trying to scare you into not going out with friends and such, but just be wary. Me and my friend thought we would be fine and then we both somehow got it. Please just be careful, I love you all xxx

Sidenote:

I've been drinking a lot of flavoured water because, despite not being able to taste the actual strawberry flavour, there's like an after moment bit that I can taste. Idk what it is and Idc, it's something. It's the only thing that works. I ran out today but a family friend dropped off some coke whilst she got us some shopping which is already my new attachment. The fizz is the closest thing I have to being able to actually taste anything so yeah. If you have covid and/or can't taste anything, I reccomend trying it.

@ My mutuals and friends, please know I'm okay, both mentally and somehwat physically, please don't worry about me, I'm alright x

#I get my A Level results on the 13th and the covid test is definitely the only thing I'm passing #basically my week is gonna be terrible #covid 19 #lockdown #wear a fucking mask debra #debra is an alternative I use when I'm bored of Karen #my mum's name it karen #guess what her response was to finding out I has covid #she was annoyed she couldn't go to Italy (she was meant to be going on the 10th) like okay thanks mum #I'm okay btw thanks for asking #glad neither of us are dying so you know #anyway its very frustrating #food suddenly looks way more delicious now that it doesn't do anything for me #the only thing I have been able to taste is disappointment #coronavirus #also all my family now already know my mum hasn't put the phone down #this has immensely helped my hygiene OCD tho strangely #I used to wipe down all the shopping since the start of lockdown and today I was just like #'what's the worst that could happen? I get coivd? welp hate to break it to you buddy but that ship set sail and until it sinks I'm just #gonna vibe and finally relax because I dont panic every time we get new food in'

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thecatwhogrins · 5 years

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Peacetime part 5 (WWII AU)

5 days later

Shirayuki paced the medical tent, anxious to the bone.

This morning, although she did not understand everything, she had heard that a spy had been caught in the German Camp. Soldiers were restless, feeding her anxiety, until she thought she might start screaming. She tried her best to concentrate on her work but despite all of her efforts, her mind kept going back to Obi. The doctor was even more cross with her than usual, almost throwing in his towel several times.

Shirayuki was miserable.

When her shift ended, she wiped her brow and tried to devise a plan to make sure Obi hadn’t been caught. The problem layed in the fact that she didn’t know where to find him. After their last encounter, he had vanished, without giving her any means to communicate with him. Her only way to figure it out would be to go snoop around and listen to conversations while trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. A very hard feat since everyone in the camp knew her and despised her. Her red hair was also hard to miss.

Shirayuki grabbed a basin full of dirty water and marched out of the tent, determination sustaining her. She advanced towards a gaggle of nurses and pretended to wash the basin. The nurses glared at her, as per usual, but she didn’t mind. Instead, she strained her ears to grasp any information she could with her rudimentary German. Most of the conversation was useless, mostly complaints about the weather, and the men, etc. Shirayuki was about to give up when Obi’s name stopped her in her tracks.

“I knew that man was suspicious as soon as he turned up here!” one nurse said.

“Yes, he has a very dangerous look about him, he sent shivers down my spine,” another said.

Shirayuki inched closer, clutching the soaping wash basin.

“Well, he is truly dashing in a certain way,” the last one said, giggling. The other nurses laughed, but there was an undercurrent to their mirth.

“He’s caught now, anyway. Good riddance,” the first one spat.

Shirayuki almost dropped the basin, splashing her clothes with soapy water.

The other nurses stopped talking and stared at her disdainfully.

“Are you a spy too?” asked the first nurse venomously.

Shirayuki couldn’t answer, she simply shook her head and turned away, fear gripping her heart like a claw. What could she do? What were the next steps to take in order to help him? She felt nauseous.

Her resolve took over and she tried to draw up a plan.

Obi was gasping for air, bound to a chair, one eye swollen shut and the other struggling to stay open. He coughed, his throat felt like it was full of gravel and damn, he’d give anything for some water. He was in one of the commanding officer’s tents that had been hastily transformed into an interrogation area. A sole lamp hung from above, barely illuminating the tent and one table stood on his right with a bloody rag. Probably from their last endeavor to break him.

He knew he should have been more careful, seen the danger coming, but he had been so close to his goal, he had slipped up. His regret was too little, too late. This wasn’t his first rodeo, and he had survived worse torture methods, but this time, his hopes of getting out were slim, paper thin.

Obi couldn’t tell what time it was, but judging by the amount of light outside, it was getting late. He tested the strength of the rope binding him. It seemed that whoever had done the handy work had been very careful and had bound him tightly enough that his blood circulation was almost cut off.

Almost.

He gritted his teeth and tried to see if he could loosen things up a little, when suddenly a sound outside of the tent had him freeze up, his good eye wide, pupil dilated and heart pounding out of his chest. He tried to relax his shoulders, closed his eye, pretending to be still be unconscious.

“Obi?” a soft voice whispered.

Shirayuki.

He hoped she wouldn’t try to help him. He opened his eye and observed her small trembling form, her eyes full of fear but also determination. He yearned to hold her in his arms, even now, in this abject situation.

“What are you doing? If you get caught…” Obi whispered quickly, fearing for his friend.

“We have to get out of here, Obi,” Shirayuki murmured fervently. She looked almost exactly the same as the night she had pulled him out of the stormy night and into the tent, bringing him back to life, exhausted but so strong. The look on her face fascinated Obi, for some reason. He wished he could capture her expression in that moment, but she marched towards him and the moment was over.

She pulled out a pair of scissors and cut his bonds as fast as she could. Obi hissed in pain when the blood flow in his wrists resumed. Shirayuki helped him up and he tried his best to not weigh to hard on her shoulders. They limped outside of the tent, in pitch darkness. They both knew that if they were to be caught, they’d be executed on the spot. Shirayuki tried to stifle her heavy breathing, the sound of it in the silence was deafening. Every step was torture, every sound an enemy.

This reminded her of the night she had found him, dragging his half-dead body to the medical tent. She had been stronger then, not as afraid. But she knew that in this moment, Obi needed her, and she’d be there for him.

They finally were almost at the tree line that led into the forest near the encampment. A man stood facing the trees and Shirayuki halted, Obi half-conscious, but wary nonetheless.

The man turned around and it was Doctor Forzeno, he probably was there to relieve himself. He peered at them, eyes squinting against the choking darkness.

“Miss Shirayuki?” he finally asked, curious.

“It’s me, Doctor,” Shirayuki swallowed, her mouth drier than the Saharan desert.

“Who’s with you? Are you…” he didn’t finish his sentence, as he swiftly realized who she was holding up with all her strength.

There was a tense silence as Shirayuki waited for him to alert the whole camp.

But nothing.

“Go,” he whispered.

Shirayuki couldn’t believe it. She feared it might be a trap of some sort. The moonlight lit the doctor’s grim but resolute face.

“Are… are you also a spy?” Shirayuki asked, hesitant.

“No, I am not. But I’ve seen you work these past few days, and I can say without a doubt that you are very gentle and kind. This is not a path I wish to take. I swore an oath to not hurt other people when I became a doctor. This is me keeping that oath,” he whispered hurriedly.

“Now go, before they come!” he helped readjust Obi and made sure no one saw them enter the woods.

Shirayuki didn’t look back.

Shirayuki kept walking for what seemed like hours, only stopping when her legs gave out.

Obi fell to the ground next to her, unconscious. Shirayuki gasped and dragged him to a tree to prop him up. She didn’t know what time it was; she didn’t know where they were or how far they were from the camp. She could barely see her own hands, let alone Obi’s prone body. Desperation filled her up like an overflowing cup of water and she felt tears spill over. She muffled her sobs into her fist and tried to think about their next move, but her mind was muddled.

“Shirayuki?” Obi whispered softly, his voice almost overshadowed by the rustling of the wind in the trees.

She couldn’t answer, her voice was too thick with tears. She was shivering from the cold and the adrenaline leaving her body.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay, I’ve gotten out of worse situations,” she could almost hear that snarky grin.

She sat next to him, unable to see him, fumbling around to finally touch his fingers, interlocking them with hers. His hands were colder than what she was used to and gloveless. She could feel every ridge of each scar he bore. She wished she could memorize them, know them by heart.

“Obi…” Shirayuki’s voice cracked, soft as a bird’s wing.

“Hmm?” his was even softer, exhaustion sapping the remnants of consciousness.

“Kiss me, please,” Shirayuki hoarsely whispered.

Obi was alert at once, thinking he had heard wrong. But he could feel her head turning, the slivers of dappled moonlight illuminating the bridge of her nose, a quarter of her eyes, the crescent of her lips, like a shadow puppet show. It was dark so they fumbled, her lips brushing the corner of his. His hands hovered over the contours of her frame, finding her waist, her arms, her shoulders and the nape of her neck and then they found each other in the smothering darkness. Lips against lips, harsh ragged breaths, fear and hunger fueling their fire and Shirayuki found that she wasn’t as cold anymore. It was a strange sensation, to kiss in the dark, like criminals, like prey. She pressed closer, so much closer, his hand finding her waist again, his lips moving against hers chapped but so were hers, she didn’t care. She only cared about the feeling of his arms around her.

She wanted it to never end.

#obiyukikissdraft #obiyukikissathon #I only managed one with my finals coming up Yet #please enjoy my meagre offering #obiyuki #ans #ans snow white with the red hair #snow white with the red hair

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stanskzseungmin · 5 years

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Operation Miroh | Stray Kids Mafia! AU ~ Chapter 12

Masterlist

Ongoing Missions

Side Ops 1: Recover Han | Han Jisung's personal effects // I.N | Yang Jeongin

Mission Briefing

Location: Unknown Settlement

Weather: Rainy

Date: 20XX

Time of Day : 0145

Mission Objective: Undercover gun deal to uncover info about the "Desert Fox"

Mission Partners: Seo Changbin, Lee Felix

Jisung, if you were here, what would you do?

Your mission report shook everybody. The entire base fell silent to the point where a pin could be heard dropping. Changbin and Felix were loitering in the lounge when a wounded Hyunjin and a sobbing you burst through the door. Finally at home in safety, the adrenaline ran out. Your lungs were burning and your legs felt as if it was pierced with several knives and needles. Despite your physical ailments, the pain did not come to par with the pain lingering in your heart.

You knew the adrenaline had subsided for Hyunjin as well. The wooden crate of syringes slipped out of his hands, dropping on the ground with a loud thud. It bounced a bit from landing on its edge, tipping over and finally stilling to a stop as the syringes cascaded out. Hyunjin slumped forward as darkness overtook his body as he dropped to the floor with a loud thud exposing his torn and tattered, bleeding back void of a wing and a damaged second one.

Upon seeing both your physical and mental state, Changbin and Felix rushed over. One pulling you into his arms and the other placing a hand delicately on Hyunjin’s shoulder trying to shake him awake.

“Jisung… Jisung,” you gasped out, choking on your sobs as tears kept flowing.

With wide eyes as the understanding finally settled in, Changbin bellowed out.

“Hyung! Chan hyung!”

Felix’s head snapped up and joined in. “HYUNG!”

A set of loud thunderous footsteps echoed throughout the walls as a very worried Seungmin burst through the door. Seungmin’s eyes widen at the sight of you and Hyunjin. Your trembling form caused a wave of pain to erupt within him. Seungmin rushed forward, shoving Changbin and Felix aside, and delicately cupped your cheeks in his hands as he delicately brushed your tears away.

“Dummy?” Seungmin whispered. “Dummy, what happened?”

You couldn’t respond as you were still choking on your sobs.

Another pair of footsteps came your way as a very panicked, sleep deprived Chan stumbled into the room. Judging by your pitiful states, Chan immediately knew what was the outcome of the mission.

Jisungie, would you forgive us for moving on?

From then on, the base was in unrest. Chan quickly retreated back to his office to gather as much intel on the Desert Fox. Jeongin immediately departed onto his side ops mission without saying a single word, without sparing a single glance as he grapple hooked his way out of the front entrance. Seungmin looked at you a final time with an unreadable expression as he hoisted the unconscious medic onto his shoulders and jogged off. Changbin quickly followed after gathering the scattered syringes and Felix running over to you and pulling you into his arms.

It isn’t that we don’t care, you understand that, right?

“Y/N, Changbin, Felix,” Chan called out after the three of you have been summoned to his office. “Talk in District 9 has stated Desert Fox by name. Last known location… about a few clicks north of District 9.”

The three of you listened intently as Chan continued tapping away at his laptop. His laptop is now connected to his larger monitor as you three try to focus on the various pop ups of texts, maps, geographic readings, etc. It was a miracle how Chan is managing to condense and process this mass of information in such a compact amount of time despite his handicap of sleep deprivation.

“The latest geographic screening and surveillance from… Han’s… ,” Chan hesitated. His voice cracked and dropped slightly at the mention of the fallen’s name, but he had to continue on. “-survey beacon from his reconnaissance mission showed that was some strange activity located within the mountain. Recently, there has been an influx of incoming shipment of cargo.”

“Weapons transport?” Changbin inquired.

Chan nodded. “Most likely linked to the supply run Y/N and Hyunjin disrupted. Changbin, if this is a weapons deal, I need you to go undercover and infiltrate the run.”

Changbin nodded in understanding as he quickly bolted out not prior to Chan tossing him a radio earpiece. Changbin easily caught the small black box and inner ear piece behind his back as he slipped past Chan’s door.

“Felix, if the Desert Fox is indeed there, you have full authority to kill on sight,” Felix nodded, walking forward, grabbing a hold of a black box and earpiece as well as headed out the open door.

“And what about me?” you whispered.

It’s that… we have no time to mourn.

Chan paused momentarily, letting his shoulders drop as he let out a shaky exhale. Chan was weighing his options, what could you do? Not that he had a lack of faith in you, but there were too many variables to consider. There were too many jobs, too many dangers and only one of you. Chan slumped into his hand resting on his desk. His eyes darted around back and forth taking in the rapidly incoming information and live updates pinging Jeongin’s exact location while simultaneously playing different scenarios in his head and deciding what would be the most beneficial but with the least opportunity cost.

“Channie?” your voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“I.N has been sent to briefly scope out the place, you will meet up with him for the rest of the briefing,” Chan stated.

“Chan-”

“Find out about the Desert Fox, gather as much information as you can,” Chan interrupted with a low voice. Chan rubbed at his tired dry eyes as he ran a hand through his bleached locks.

You frowned as the stinging pain washed over you again.

“Chan,” your voice cracked, understanding the underlying intentions of your mission objective.

“Dismissed, Y/N.”

You were replacing Jisung.

You then met up with Changbin and Felix in one of Stray Kids’ supply warehouses. It was a bit on the smaller side compared to the massive warehouse solely for chemicals, metals, medicine, etc, including all of Hyunjin’s medicinal and lethal experiments, Minho’s endless supplies of empty and filled glass bottles of his outdated experiments as well as Seungmin’s massive gunpowder collection and recently fertilizer and cement (unfortunately, Seungmin has caught Hyunjin’s contagious disease of laziness opting with an easy explosive with the latter two resources rather than an intricate concoction of chemicals and oxides.)

The smaller warehouse the three were currently in had weapons galore dating back to Changbin and Jeongin’s illegal black market dealings when they all were within the accursed walls. There were rows and rows of wooden crates stacked upon each other. Atop of each crate was a small and simple weapon stand that displayed a gun indicating what was in the crates that the display was sitting on. A wall was dedicated to display several bladed and blunt weapons and several harnesses and slings, many of them are customized to fit the member’s needs. For example, Felix’s harnesses have overkilled with many loops and slits to carry as much ordnance and weapons he possibly can, Minho’s have more regular and adjustable loops to strap on his gaseous concoctions and reactant reagents, Chan’s harnesses have special metal hooks and straps just so he can have his laptop on his body at all times whether it be flush against his chest or on the small of his back, etc etc. You get the idea. Another wall was dedicated to Seungmin’s and Jeongin’s (mostly Seungmin’s) joint efforts in customized and personally built weapons. You cringed awkwardly spotting your god awful pistol and customized suppressor on display. Finally there was a vast lot of empty space set aside in the far corner just for Hyunjin and Seungmin to dump their failed engineering experiments. You still don’t know why we kept all of Hyunjin’s and Seungmin’s prototypes for Hyunjin’s mechanical wings and your eyes narrowed in confusion when you spotted Chan’s corpse of a laptop on the floor along with the wings. Strange… Chan usually repairs his laptop rather than replacing them…

Felix was checking the chamber of his pistol to make sure it’s loaded as you walked up to him. Felix noticed your presence and proceeded to holster his pistol somewhere under his white sweater behind his back. Felix wore somewhat… revealing clothing. He shed his normally black attire for a white loose fitting sweater. It was cut down to size thus exposing a bit of his toned torso and with the waistband of his boxers barely peeking over his dark jeans. In his exposed skin, you saw slight elements of a leather harness hidden under his oversized sweater. You can probably imagine what’s attached to the harness: knives, small hand held pistols, possibly some ordnance and most definitely gun magazines. You never truly know, but he’s always well geared up and he’s always manage to hide so many weapons and supplies all over his body.

Changbin, however, was more modest. He wore a simple white tee with a black vest thrown over it along with black jeans with several aesthetic tears and slashes. He was currently crouched in front of two empty crates back facing you as he added hay as padding for the many weapons he was about to bring. You shook your head lightly at the sight of his black battery pack for his earpiece stuffed into his waistband rather than his back pocket assuming he was too much in a rush and had difficulties sliding it into the pocket and thus, opted for his waistband. You walked forward and slid your palm along the curve of his bottom into his pocket to create space eliciting a loud surprised, totally manly yelp of sorts from him and slid the battery pack into the pocket.

“Is that all you’re bringing?” you gestured at the two crates.

“Customized,” Changbin grumbled, patting down the hay and adding in another customized weapon. “All the more to incentivise.”

“Are you sure about that?” you inquired, fully knowing Seungmin’s customized weapons were exceptionally made and highly effective and deadly.

“Relax, little one. The guns are faulty anyway. I made sure of it,” Changbin stated, getting up to face you. “It’s the gunpowder that can’t be faked.”

Changbin made a small head movement to Felix and he nodded in understanding, waltzing off to the neighboring warehouse for a crate of Seungmin’s gunpowders. Changbin walked towards you a bit and clasped his hands on your shoulders and looking deep into your eyes.

“Are you going to be ok?” Changbin’s voice was soft.

You nodded hesitantly.

But is Jisung going to be ok? Being replaced…?

“Jeongin,” Changbin greeted.

“You’re late,” Jeongin stated sternly with a straight face with his lips curved slightly upward in a small smile. He stood from his previous crouched position. He had a dark scarf wrapped around his head in lieu of a hood. His red fringes brushed against his lashes as the breeze went by. Jeongin wore a simple black tight shirt that was wayyyy too short exposing his toned and lean midriff. His black jeans were also a bit short, his cuffs barely extended past his knee exposing his pale calfs down to regular combat boots. Within his hands was an extremely large and hefty custom .20 millimeter sniper rifle that was forged and assembled by Seungmin.

“That’s no way for you to talk to your hyungs,” Felix chuckled.

Jeongin responded with a sarcastic and forced smile.

“Apologies, but I have my own mission directive,” his tone was dripping with false and forced politeness.

“Innie,” your voice was stern, but sent the message across just fine.

“Beyond that rock formation,” Jeongin gestured with his finger. “-is cave entrance. Within that cave is a hidden underground settlement.”

“Civilians?” you inquired.

“Many. I believe it’s a front. It’s a pretty well established settlement.”

“A well hidden location for a well hidden underground dealings,” Changbin muttered.

“With civilians as a cover,” you finished. Jeongin nodded.

“There is no natural light, only torch light. The area is mainly clear of guards with the exception of the far back of the cave. The guards you may pass in the walkways are more than likely to be off duty and is unlikely to actually be doing their job, so they won’t be much of a worry,” Jeongin continued, turning to face you.

“Thank you,” he nodded as he grappled away and disappeared behind the cliff.

“I’ll wait here with the crates,” Changbin stated. “Y/N, go in and locate the weapons dealings and gather information. Felix, go in after and dispatch the off duty guards.”

You and Felix both nodded as you both turned away and climb up the rock formation. Lo and behold, the cave entrance Jeongin spoke of. You were awestruck at the marvelous sight. It was a marvelous sight indeed Felix agreed with his equally awestruck expression. It was a vast underground cave with a center stone structure that was lit ablaze at the top. The flames lit up the settlement in a calming warm yellow and orange light. It appears to be many well constructed buildings made of mud and clay but the integrity is impeccable. While the other villages and the walled cities had an atmosphere of looming danger and impending doom, this one has a calm, peaceful lighthearted atmosphere. Almost like “paradise,” but without the sheer number of armed guards.

“Paradise?” Felix turned to you.

“Too soon,” you mumbled, shoving Felix causing him to stumble over the edge and land on his feet at the bottom with a soft thud.

“Thanks,” Felix stated sarcastically as he quickly went to work disappearing into the darkness of the unlit or poorly lit areas.

You quickly follow and jump off the edge as well, landing with a small grunt. you reach down to grab a discarded piece of fabric and dusting it off. You wrapped it around your face and pulled up your hood making your way in.

“I have overwatch,” Changbin’s voice buzzed over intercoms, a faint clicking and sliding could be heard in the background.

“I have line of sight,” Felix confirmed. “Got you covered.”

You continue making your way deeper into the settlement, walking with your head high. Whispers erupted all around you as the people looked you up and down. You were obviously an outsider with your hoodie and jeans in comparison to the people’s functional rags.

“Hey!” a guard off duty noticed you. His head slung back as red erupted from contact.

“Got you covered,” Changbin buzzed in, Felix popping out of the shadows to dispose of the body.

“Alley to the left,” Felix buzzed in. You followed his orders walking into it seeing a man positioned there. “Get his attention.”

You continued walking forward. “Hey! You can’t be her-” Felix busted out from the doorway of the building, stabbing the guard in the neck and pulling him in closing the door behind him.

“Keep going,‘ Felix ordered.

“Lost line of sight,” Changbin buzzed in. “You’re on your own.”

“I got you,” Felix reassured.

You made your way into the building to see a man having a smoke. You smirked to yourself as you continued walking and purposefully bumping shoulders into him.

“Huh? Ah-” Felix rushed in and kneeing him in the back. The guard was sent into the wall as Felix stabbed his blade directly center of his neck. You walked out of the door to witness a fight gathering. It seems both civilian and guards were attracted. You could see snippets of two bloodied people pitted against each other.

“A fight club?” you whispered.

“Don’t think so,” Felix said. “More like dog fights but with people.”

“How awful,” you muttered.

“Stay focused,” Changbin reminded.

“Felix, what are you doing?” you hissed at the Aussie who emerged from the shadows walking towards the fight.

“Joining the fight,” he muttered, pulling out his earpiece and battery pack and hiding it in shadows.

“FELIX!” you hissed.

“Leave him,” Changbin interrupted. “This is an undercover mission. Felix can fight his way to the top and get information. You should get info as well.”

“Alright.”

“Head to the main road, so I can watch your back,” Changbin instructed. Doing as he’s told, you snuck past the fight and head back to the main road. You walked in a brisk pace towards the center stone pillar.

“I can’t see past that pillar,” Changbin buzzed in. “Can you get up the pillar and see what’s on the other side?”

You obeyed his command silently. Your fingers grasped at all the cracks and protruding rocks as your toes find purchase of the rough surface. You managed to climb up to the weak wooden walkway, but thankfully, you were light enough for the wood to support your weight.

“Report.”

“Just as Innie said, the back looks heavily sheltered off and guarded,” as you were watching over the guard patrols, you noticed a small gate in the back corner with two men trying to pass crates to each other.

“Careful!” one scolded when the other dropped the crate. The lid popped open as the contents came spilling out, revealing a couple of knives and grenades.

“Binnie, I may have found the weapons supply lines. 2 o’clock far corner.”

“Understood. You’re fine on your own right?”

“Of course.”

“Alright, Changbin out,” Changbin buzzed off.

Your back slumped against the stone structure as you felt the loneliness and grief kick in.

I’m sorry, Jisung. This is supposed to be a time of mourning, but it is a luxury we can’t have.

“Oh shit,” you hear a small voice under you. You were snapped out of your thoughts when a woman spotted you and began bolting. You tilted your head to the side as you pursued, jumping down from your elevated position and landing straight on a mud protective railing on a rooftop. As the woman kept running in and out of the alleys, you jumped from roof to roof keeping her within line of sight.

“Why are you following me?” she called out.

“Why are you running?” you responded, trying to catch your breath.

“Ok, hold up,” you retorted, jumping off and landing directly in front of her. You winced at the sharp stinging pain shooting up your legs. You never understood how Jisu- Jisung.

“Jisung,” you whined. “How do you always manage to land on your feet without destroying your legs?”

“That’s because I bend my knees, stupid,” the squirrel chuckled, flicking your forehead.

You shook your head preventing your wandering thoughts.

“You’re here to kill me, aren't you?” the woman whispered backing up at bit.

“What gave you that impression?”

“Your clothes,” she pointed out. “You’re not one of us. The Desert Fox sent you, didn’t he?”

Your eyes widen in bewilderment. “The Desert Fox sent...me? You’re not one of Desert Fox’s?”

“No. Never. Not anymore,” she whispered. “I see we have a common enemy?”

“It appears so…” you whispered, eyeing her up and down as she did the same to you as you circled each other. “Let me guess, this settlement is your hideout?”

“Yes, to hide away from the prying eyes of the Desert Fox.”

“You mentioned ‘not anymore,’ you used to work for him?”

“Yes, but I have never met the man. He would send codes with instructions.”

“Supply runs…?” you tried to insinuate the weapons dealing happening right this moment.

“Disruption mainly. The one we have now is for our own personal use.”

“Freedom fighter?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “The Desert Fox is a cruel miserable man with complete disregard for human life. He does not fight for a cause. He fights for death count.”

"Are you going to kill him?" She spoke up after a lengthy pause.

Jisung's smiling face came before you in a vision.

"Yes. He's the reason for the death of someone dear to me."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. You nodded solemnly as your gaze fell upon a familiar brown sack with a skull mark hanging off the woman’s waist.

Felix panted as he bounced on the balls of his feet, swapping stances. Screams and cheers erupted all around him. The woman he was fighting against spat at his feet. She rushed forward attempting to throw a punch with Felix quickly jerked his head back.

"Who's this guy?" Felix's ear picked up.

"Don't recognize him," another continued.

The woman rushed him with a flurry of attacks, Felix kept his eyes glued to her fists as he dodged every attack with grace and poise. The woman changed her stance, spinning on the ball of her foot. She was preparing for a heavy punch, Felix easily saw through it. He immediately ducked, her fist barely grazed the top of his head as her forward momentum brought her closer to Felix. Felix easily bounced back up headbutting the woman's nose. Her head few back as her hands flew to her face trying to stop the red spew. She bowed down, backing up and waving her bloody hand signalling "no more"

"Dancing like the devil is he?" a guard in the crowd, mumbled. Felix couldn't pick up any other of his murmurs, but his ears most definitely picked up a soft 'Desert Fox.' "It looks like we have our best man here!"

The guard walked up to Felix with an outstretched hand to pat his shoulder, only for Felix to shrug his hand away. The guard chuckled pointing at him.

"Is there anyone willing to take on this current reigning champion?!" The crowd cheered around him as Felix warily eyed the man. "Remember to keep it a fair fight and no weapons allowed!"

The guard chuckled walking back into the crowd. Five other guards emerged from the crowd, each equipped with a bladed weapon. Felix's shoulders slumped as he stood up straight and tilted his head with a disapproving gaze.

"What are you going to do now, pretty boy?" the guard in the center snickered.

Felix sighed, tilting his head the other direction menacingly. "I'm going to be beat a cheat."

Changbin dropped both crates to the group with an exasperated sigh as he stood up rolling his shoulder to loosen the knots forming there.

“Hey kid,” the man leading the weapons deal called out. “Aren’t you a little young for this?”

“Gotta do what I got to survive,” Changbin put up a plastic smile and played along with the youthful looking man. The man had dark locks that was tied back with a rag. His clothes were loose and in tatters making him look homeless in comparison to Changbin’s clean clothes.

“Right on man,” the man smiled. “Let me see what you have to offer.” The man jumped off the crate he was sitting on and walked towards Changbin with a knife. Changbin eyed the blade waringly as his hand reached for his concealed pistol under his shirt in self defense. The man merely crouched in front of Changbin’s crate and pried open the wood with the blade. Changbin relaxed slightly, but he kept his hand on the grip of his gun.

“We don’t have the most advanced of weapons but we make do with what we have. We have molotovs, trip wires and semtex and a couple of automatic weapons,” the man informed pulling out the hay from the crate. “What are you hoping to get?”

“Information,” Changbin responded bluntly. The man paused to look at Changbin.

“I don’t know what you mean? We’re just people who are trying to survive-” the man’s breath hitched upon sight of the weapons in the box.

“What is it?” Changbin asked.

The man looked up to Changbin with wide eyes as he backed up to his buddy and whispered to him. Both men eyed Changbin up and down. An uneasy feeling bubbled within Changbin as he got into a defensive stance. Instantly, the two men grabbed two guns from their crate and pointed the weapon at Changbin. Changbin gasped and backed up, throwing up his hands.

“D-don’t shoot,” Changbin sputtered trying to keep up his act. Changbin smiled awkwardly and chuckled. “Please, I just need to-”

“I know why you’re here,” the man growled, voice dripping with venom. “Leave or I’ll shoot!”

“But-” Changbin interjected.

“I say we shoot him.”

Changbin glared at the man as he noticed him very quickly getting surrounded. Both guards and other men and women started appearing from the shadows, each equipped with a weapon pointed directly at Changbin.

Too many. Changbin thought to himself. He could hold his own, but not with this many and not without cover.

“Shit,” Changbin cursed. With reflexes almost quicker than the eye, Changbin kicked over his crate: the weapons, hay and several metal canisters tumbled out. Using foot and friction against the dirt floor, he dragged the pin out of the canister and kicked it towards the two men in front of him. The quickly opened fire but Changbin was quicker and dove to safety behind other wooden crates. The metal canister finally went off after what felt like an eternity. The immediate area was engulfed in a bright white light and Changbin easily disappeared within the chaos.

“Get him! Kill him before he gets to Desert Fox!”

Your heart was pounding in your ears. You were panting heavily as you ran down the street. The people were grumbling and gasping at your sprinting form. Many jumped out of your way. Some expressed outrage towards your lack of respect.

“S-sorry!” you quickly apologized bowing your head quickly as you ran into the alley.

You could hear distant cheers and the distinct sound of fleshy impacts and bone crushing blows. You turned the corner and slid to a stop, the soles of your feet grinded across the ground.

“F-felix!” you gasped out.

The blond Aussie was engrossed into his fight. A guard went to stab him, but Felix easily jumped back, narrowly dodging the blade. Felix grabbed the guard’s wrist and pulled him forward connecting his knee to his face. Another guard tried to do a top down swipe; Felix sidestepped, the blade pathetically whiffing past the Aussie as his fist connected with the man’s jaw in an uppercut. A third tried to take advantage of Felix’s turned back, but Felix threw back his elbow connecting to his face, the nose collapsed and broke with a loud crunch.

“FELIX!” you called out his name, Felix quickly snapped his head towards you with wide eyes. “We got a problem!”

“That fighting style. That movement. I’ve seen it before,” the supposed ringmaster guard whispered out.

Felix pushed past the remaining two guards, ignoring the booing crowd and not caring that he’s forfeiting the fight as he briskly jogged to you.

“Get them!” Felix and you snapped towards them. “Kill them both! They’re Desert Fox’s!”

The guards all unsheathed their blades and readied their guns. The crowd scattered in loud screams of terror upon hearing the Desert Fox’s name, the name of the monster they’re hiding from. The crowd quickly dispersed each screaming the Desert Fox’s name.

“Felix,” you whimpered, grabbing at his white sleeve. “We need to go.”

“Yeah,” Felix agreed, grabbing your forearms and pulling you in the opposite direction.

“Kill them! Don’t let them get back to Desert Fox! Do whatever it takes to stop them.”

“We need to get to Changbin!” Felix called out, sprinting in and out of buildings. The building’s inhabitants yelped in shock from the two intruders. Felix easily vaulted over a random woman’s kitchen counter as he hopped out the open window and you barreled out the door. You both stilled to a stop as a sprinting Changbin passing by you. Changbin scrambled to a stop as he realized who he passed.

“We got a problem!” you three shouted simultaneously. “They think we’re Desert Fox!”

A loud explosion rang in the background. The cave walls shook as unsettled dust dislodged from the ceiling. The hanging stalactites shook, threatening to fall. The entire settlement was in unrest. Screams of the people echoed within the cave. More and more explosions rang out and the hanging rocks began falling and collapsing onto the buildings.

“Guys,” Felix pointed out sticking a finger in the direction of the back of the cave. You and Changbin turned towards the back where there were black smoke emitting from the various explosions, but there was a problem. There was also a mist like gas that was a discerning mustard yellow/algae green color.

You recognized what it was. “We need to go! NOW!” The three of you started to sprint towards the cave entrance along with the fleeing crowd. It was what Hyunjin was afraid of: the sacks of strange green crystals from the supply run, the exact same sack the woman had. Several similar sacks were thrown into the escaping crowd as the contents of each sack were agitated and erupted in the similar mist.

“Don’t breathe that in! It’s poison!” you warned, pulling up your makeshift hood onto your nose and mouth.

“They’re gassing the entire place just to kill us?” Changbin called out into the crook of his arm, coughing every other word.

One by one, the people fall to the ground. So many voices would no longer made a sound. You tripped and stumbled over your feet as you fell to the ground. Everything seemed to echo in your ears. The world seemed like it was endlessly spinning. Dots of blacks appeared within your vision. Felix and Changbin were calling out your name, but you could barely make out their voices. You could barely make out the sounds of the two desperately coughing and gasping for air only to inhale more of the poisonous gas. You slumped down to the ground as darkness enveloped your vision. The last thing you could make out was Felix on his knees hacking his lungs out and Changbin crawling towards you.

The next series of events went by like scenes of a movie. You weren’t fully unconscious, your world was flashing in and out of darkness. You only caught glimpses of what happened before it all went back again. You saw both Felix and soon after Changbin collapsing fully to the ground. Then you could faintly hear a whizzing sound. Afterwards, you saw a figure swinging into your line of sight from a grapple hook. The figure stopped momentarily to grab ahold of Felix within an arm and Changbin across the shoulders. You could barely make out a splash of red before grapple hooking away. Next you saw a dark silhouette appear within your sight.

“Oh my god. You’re ok… you’re ok...” you could barely make out his voice before your world went dark again. You then awoke in the man’s arms and attempted to look at the man’s face. His arms felt familiar. Being in his hold felt normal and… at home. You tried to make out features, but your brain was mush and your vision wasn’t any better. You were unable to make out any noteworthy features before the world went dark again. Finally, you awoke lying on vibrant green grass. Your eyes squinted shut from the bright light. Cracking an eye open, you noticed the clear blue skies before finally realizing both Changbin and Felix on the grass before you unconscious. You spotted the red headed sniper propped up on a rock. His head was bowed down as you was coughing furiously into the crook of his arm. You could hear him wheeze every single pause he took to gasp for air.

“Jeong...in...” you tried to call out weakly, pathetically attempting to crawl towards him. “You… saved us...”

Jeongin panted, dropping his arm. His breath was weak, you could hear the wheeze after each and every one of his inhales and exhales.

“Did..didn’t save you...” Jeongin wheezed. “Some...one… else...I..don’t… I don’t-” Jeongin erupted into a fit of coughs again.

“What...?” you whispered breathlessly in disbelief. You fully fell to the ground again, the side of your face made into contact with soft grass, your arm fell limp beside you. Jeongin fumbled with the pouches on his body. He pulled out a small box and popped open the lid and placed it in front of your face. Your eyes made out a faint glint of the object’s shine. You could make out it’s slim, long and circular shape with it ending in a sharp point.

Your heart shattered even more if it was possible as you broke out into weeps recognizing the metal objects.

~Voting Opportunity~

Do you want to take Han | Han Jisung’s metal claws for yourself?

Yes: Gain the ability to climb fully vertical walls without the need of hand and feet purchase, gain the ability to use the claws as weapons.

No: Will be left as memorabilia alongside Porcelain Mask at the SKZ base. Warning: You will not have access to the claws from this point on if you choose this option.

~Voting Opportunity~

Do you want to see Hwang Hyunjin?

Yes or No

~Voting Opportunity~

A/N: I know I haven’t left out any clues or hints about what the next mission is, but from this point on, I want you all to keep in the back of your mind who you think the Desert Fox is and what is the Desert Fox’s relationship to Stray Kids based on the hints I left in this chapter.

Which Stray Kids Member do you want to send on your next mission?

Kim Woojin [Status: AWOL*]

Bang Chan | Bang Christopher Chan

Lee Know | Lee Minho (Heavy injury)

Seo Changbin (Will not be available until 3 members have gone)

Hwang Hyunjin (Heavy Injury // Will not be available until 2 members have gone)

Han | Han Jisung [Status: Deceased]

Lee Felix (Will not be available until 3 members have gone)

Kim Seungmin (Will not be available until 1 members have gone)

I.N | Yang Jeongin (Will not be available until 4 members have gone)

* : AWOL = Away on leave, but Woojin will return when called upon.

A/N: You can vote through asks if you wish.

30 notes · View notes

hyuckshaze · 3 years

Text

Drowning in the Distance | Chapter XXI

✩‌ haechan ‌x‌ ‌fem!reader‌ ‌|‌ terminal illness au! series ✩

WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ongoing theme of terminal illness (cystic fibrosis); talk of christianity, the afterlife, heaven/hell, death; ongoing mention of surgeries, scars, medications, drug trials etc.

CHAPTER WORD COUNT ⇾‌ 9.67k

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

XXI | Y/N

✩‌

I lean against the counter, smiling at Jaemin from six or so feet away as he pulls a freshly-baked cake from the oven, pulling out a cutting board, placing the cake atop of it and closing the oven door in one swift movement; entirely in his element. He glances up, feeling my presence looming to his side, a singular, perfectly shaped eyebrow raised in my direction. I look at him for a moment, just admiring him. I’d seen him ramble on about cooking before, but seeing him do it is different. He looks so at peace, so calm and collected despite the sheer amount of food he’s produced in the last few hours. I think about that first meeting, me clutching Junnie against my chest, him in that football jersey. I feel my heart swell, adoration for the boy flooding my chest as I part my lips to speak.

“I wanted to see the master at work. I feel like I’m in an episode of MasterChef. Now all we need is Gordon Ramsay stood at the side, calling me an idiot sandwich, or a fucking donkey or something.” I chirp, sending him a cheeky grin. He laughs, shooting a wink back at me before pulling his oven mitts off, throwing them to the side. I watch in awe as he assuredly twirls his chef’s knife, as though he’d been cooking for the last forty years, watching the blade deftly slice the small cake into seven neat, even pieces with a flourish. I let out a noise of surprise at the movement, leaning just a little bit closer to get a better view as he grabs a fresh strawberry from a punnet to his left and squints at it. He places it at the corner of the chopping board, leans over it and makes a few cuts here, a couple of snips there, in absolute, unbreakable concentration. He holds it up in his gloved hand after only a few seconds, his eyes crinkling as he grins widely. Though I can’t see the smile, with the face mask covering half of his face, I can tell he’s proud of it. I let my eyes flicker down to the thing sat between his fingers, and my jaw drops. The plain, old strawberry is completely transformed. Instead of a red bulb, an intricate and beautiful flower sits in his hand, the layers peeled back to reveal reds, whites and even shades of pink. “Jaemin! How the hell did you do that? That’s incredible! You should go to children’s birthday parties with that sorcery.” His cheeks flush pink, but he shrugs casually, placing the piece of fruit atop of a slice of the cake, perfectly placed and incredibly aesthetically appealing.

“As much as I hate strawberries, I’ve been practicing for next month when Jeno and I visit my mum. They both love the stupid things.” He says, face flushing an even deeper shade of pink, but sending me a look that screams: this is no big deal. I call bullshit. This is a big deal, the biggest fucking deal. I stare at him, mouth hung open and eyes wide. Him and Jeno are back together, and he’s taking him to see his family? Oh my God. He chuckles at my gormless state clearly amused with my inability to speak at this information. “Yeah.” He nods, grinning from ear to ear as he looks over at me, eyes sparkling. “I hate to admit it, but you were right, Y/N. He loves me. He really does. These past few weeks without him have been fucking torture. I love him. As scary as that is, I think I’m ready to face that fear.” His grin is unparalleled, happiness like I’ve never seen plastered across his face. He seems to bounce on his heels, practically buzzing with joy. “He’s coming for lunch tomorrow. He said he’s all up for testing out the hospital cuisine and acting out an episode of Kitchen Nightmares. We’re gonna give it a try.” I stare at him for a moment, my jaw still dropped as I process this information. He’s going for it. He’s giving himself a chance at love. I almost tackle him into a crushing hug, taking a step forward, but I catch myself before I can close the distance between us and actually do it. I look around, desperate to find something that- aha! I grab a kitchen mitt, pulling it on so that I can stretch out my arm, so that I can reach out and take his hand in mine, albeit with a little bit of a barrier. Tears well in my eyes as I sniff, trying to hold back the overwhelming emotions that threaten to spill over the surface. I shake my head, finally managing to open my mouth to speak, pure happiness making me feel like I’m floating five feet off of the ground.

“Jaemin. I’m so-” He swears under his breath and reaches over, ripping the kitchen mitt off my hand and smacking it over my head. I flinch, covering my face with my hands, a small yelp slipping past my lips.

“세상에! Don’t go all soppy on me, Y/N! You know that I can’t let a woman cry alone. Don’t take advantage of that!” I move out of my defensive position and look over at him, spotting his own watery eyes and giving him a grin.

“They’re happy tears, Jaem. I am so proud of you, and so fucking happy for you.” I manage, reaching up and wiping the tears that have spilled past my waterline. The both of us stand there, smiling at one another and sniffling as we try to reign in our emotions.

The sound of laughter comes from the other room, ending our moment, as well as breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between us. He clears his throat, wiping his eyes with his arm before clapping his hands together, turning back to the chopping board to slice up six more strawberries to place atop of the slices of cake.

“Come on, 큰아기. You’re missing out on the fun. I’ll be in there in a second.”

After crafting a handful more strawberry flowers and placing them atop of the pre-cut slices, Jaemin carefully carries out his beautifully made cake with eighteen lit candles sitting on top of it and we all start to sing. I watch Hyuck smiling in the glow of the candlelight, looking more radiant than ever as he looks around the table at all of us, his sparkling eyes reflecting the flickering flames sat just before him.

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Haechan. Happy birthday to you!” And many more. I mouth the words to him. I know that it’s a thing people say, a superstitious thing, but I really mean it. That phrase had never had more feeling behind it than it does right now. I stare at him, entranced in his beauty. In this light, with this smile, it’s impossible to calm my racing heart and stop the fluttering feeling that envelopes my stomach.

“Sorry if it’s a little underwhelming.” Jaemin says, giving him a sheepish smile in his direction. “I’m pretty good, but baking a full-blown birthday cake in an hour was a real stretch.” The boy opposite me waves this notion away almost immediately after the words come from the baker’s mouth, shaking his head.

“It’s perfect, Jaemin. I love it. Thank you so much.” He says, smiling at the boy, who flushes pink and gives an embarrassed, but proud grin. He leans forward slightly, closing his eyes and parting his lips, but then he pauses, eyeing the candles thoughtfully. “If I blow the candles out, then you guys can’t eat the cake.” He looks up from the flickering lights, his eyes moving between me and Jaemin. I make a noise of recognition, nodding alongside Jaemin. I totally hadn’t thought about that. It’s a good thing he remembered. After a moment of hesitation, Wendy leans over and blows out the candles in one large puff of air. She reaches over to the birthday boy and ruffles his hair, giving him a soft smile.

“I made a wish for you.” She speaks, her kind eyes crinkled with cheerfulness as she looks down at Haechan, who gives her a mischievous smirk and a wink. He spares a glance at me, the look in his eyes playful as he speaks.

“It better have involved Y/N popping out of a birthday cake in a bikini.” Everyone bursts out into laughter at his words, and I look over at him. He’s looking straight back at me, his deep brown eyes sparkling under the bright lights. I roll my eyes, but can’t stop the smile that pulls at the corner of my mouth. He gives me a boyish grin as Karina pulls out her phone, holding her arm out to take a group photo. We crowd together, the best we can while keeping me, Hyuck and Jaemin a safe distance from one another. We all grin up at the screen as the shutter sounds, our smiles captured in time. A photo that holds a thousand memories, a thousand sentimental feelings all bound into one image. I look over at Hyuck as Karina continues to press the shutter, the two of us sharing a soft smile. The people closest to us, those that we love, coming together like this to celebrate, despite all of the things that should separate us. Everything feels so perfect, so right, so-

The frosted-glass door behind us slams open, creating a loud bang as the handle hits against the wall, everyone in the room jumping in shock at the sudden noise. Karina lowers the phone, and we spin around. All at once, we lay eyes on Doyoung. Oh shit. He stares at us, expressionless, and we stare back at him. Nobody dares to speak, stunned into silence from his sudden appearance. What could anybody possibly say to make whatever happens next any easier? He wasn’t supposed to be working now. He wasn’t on the rota. Eventually, Jaemin clears his throat, brave enough to cut through the silence that hangs over the room.

“Hi, Doyoung. We thought you were off tonight. Are you free? We can make you a plate. Y/N’s just about to start the entertainment.” His voice is more stable than I expected, almost humorously so. Nobody laughs, though. They don’t dare to. Not when his blank face twists, rage slowly seeping into his features as he stares at us, speechless. The respiratory therapist must have taken up a double shift today, and I’m sure it’s not an accident that he kept that on the low. He knows me, and he knows that it’s Haechan’s birthday. Fuck. He grits his teeth, jaw clenching as he lifts a shaking hand to point at the birthday boy, Jaemin and I. My heart races and I swallow harshly, trying to settle the disgusting nausea that seems to have settled in my stomach, threatening to rise up my throat. His lips move, his voice a complete juxtaposition to the anger that radiates from him.

“Up. Now.” His voice is quiet, too quiet. I’d rather he start screaming at us, scold us all and tell us how irresponsible we all are. The three of us stand slowly from the table, rising and walking slowly over to him, not daring to get within seven feet of one another. The nurse shakes his head, his jaw clenching and unclenching sporadically, looking around at us, words failing him. “Follow me.” With that, he starts walking out, swinging through the door and back across the cafeteria. We shoot small waves good-bye in our friends’ direction before following him out, only daring to do so because his back was turned. I stare at the nurse’s back as he walks ahead, trying to figure out how to fix this. I have to fix this. It’s bad. I’ve seen Doyoung mad or upset on plenty of occasions, but not like this. This is another kind of anger, the kind of anger that leaves you frozen in place, terrified for what comes next. As we trudge down the hallway, I shoot an anxious look over at Hyuck. Not wanting to speak and anger Doyoung any further, he mouths to me across the distance.

“It’ll be okay.” It’s meant to comfort me, and it almost works, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It looks forced, not the natural, boyish grin that I’ve become accustomed to. This smile doesn’t even convince him that things are going to be okay, but I appreciate his efforts nonetheless.

“You’re all confined to your rooms while we get respiratory cultures.” Doyoung says, spinning around to face us all, his eyes focused on Hyuck. “And you. You’ll be transferred in the morning.” No. No, he can’t. My lips move before I can process that I’m speaking, the words spilling from my lips instinctually.

“No. No, he won’t.” I say, and his eyes swing over to meet mine. “Doyoung, it wasn’t Haechan’s fault. I was the one who-” He holds up his hand, cutting my rushed speech off.

“You might be willing to gamble with your lives, but I’m not.” His words leave an air of finality, their weight looming over our heads. There’s a deafening silence, one that makes my ears ring, and then Jaemin laughs. A hearty, genuine laugh. We all look over at him, and he shakes his head, completely unfazed. As fearless as he was when he spoke to Doyoung in the cafeteria only minutes before, he chuckles as he meets my eyes, giving me an amused grin.

“It’s just like when we were kids-”

“You’re not kids anymore, Jaemin!” Doyoung shouts, cutting him off, his eyes hardened with rage. I look between the two of them, watching as Jaemin meets the elder’s eyes, holding his gaze.

“We were careful, Doyoung.” He says, shaking his head, a disbelieving smile still plastered across his lips. “We were safe. Just like you taught us to be.” He gestures to the distance we’re keeping from one another even now. The grin melts from his face as he coughs. A quick, short cough. His face becomes more serious now, the smile nowhere to be found, as he adds. “I’m sorry, but it was fun. More fun than I’ve had in a long time. I don’t regret it, not in the slightest. We know the facts. We know what risks we’re taking. As you so astutely pointed out, we aren’t kids anymore. You might not be willing to gamble our lives, but they aren’t your lives to gamble in the first place.” He looks away from the nurse, having nothing else to say to him. I stare at Jaemin, taken aback. We’ve had this conversation before, just the two of us, and he’s just summed up my views perfectly. I felt those words, knowing that he meant them from the deepest depths of his heart. He hadn’t agreed with me back then. What changed? Is it the fact that he has Jeno? Or is it that he’s going to see his mother? I give him a soft nod, letting him know that I agree with him, to which he gives me a soft smile. Doyoung opens his mouth to say something, looking between the two of us, but then he quickly closes it and spins on his heel to take us the rest of the way to the third floor.

Nobody says a single word for the rest of the journey to our ward, the sound of our footsteps echoing in the virtually empty hallways as we move. I look over at Hyuck, staring at his side profile as we walk. He swallows, his chest rising and falling in a deep sigh. I fight the urge to reach over and take his hand, to feel his skin on my own for the first time, to feel the comfort of his touch. I want to get closer, but that’s exactly what got us into this situation, isn’t it? Stepping through the double doors, we all make our way to our respective rooms, Jaemin winking at me and Haechan before ducking behind the door of 310. Hyuck gives me a sad smile, one that doesn’t make the skin around his eyes crinkle in joy, one that doesn’t pull his cheeks upwards, and I somehow manage to give one back as the door to 315 closes behind him. Doyoung stares at me, giving me a look of sheer and utter disappointment before I pull the door of 302 shut, leaning my forehead against the wood with a long sigh, finally letting the tears well in my eyes.

As the clock on the wall ticks closer and closer to midnight, I look back at Haechan, fast asleep on the other side of my laptop screen, his face pressed against his pillow, looking calm, peaceful. I rub my eyes, exhausted from the long day of planning for his party, the party itself, and getting caught by Doyoung, but I haven’t been able to fall asleep. For whatever reason, my body seems to be fighting even the idea of sleep with every ounce of energy, but it’s no annoyance. It means I can spend more time staring at the sleeping boy on the screen, propped up against the side of my bed. Before his slumber, we’d agreed that we wouldn’t hang up. We both know that, in the morning, he’ll be gone. Far away, in some other hospital and re-confined to isolation. Or maybe not, seeing as he’s now 18 and can make his own medical decisions. But either way, he won’t be here. They’ll stop him from coming back to Saint Evangeline’s. No more midnight walks. No more sitting by the pool. No more shared regimen. No more drawings. No more pool cue touches. No more notes under the doors. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I fight the unknown feeling that swarms my chest, blinking back tears and closing my eyes, willing this to be a dream, a nightmare. I lay in silence, listening to Hyuck’s breathing through the speakers of my laptop, my body finally beginning to succumb to the tiredness that plagues it. I feel my breathing even out, eyes no longer stinging with unshed tears, so I open them to spare one last lingering glance upon the boy on the other side of the screen. A small, sad smile pulls at my lips, my eyelids slowly shutting when an alarm blares over the speaker, jolting me from my sleepy stupor and forcing me to sit bolt upright.

“Code blue. All available personnel-”

I dive out of bed, dashing to the door and pressing my ear against it so that I can hear, and fully make out, the garbled, monotonous words of the announcement.

“Oh my god.” I whisper, the disgusting feeling in my chest enveloping my entire being. Code blue. Someone’s heart has stopped working. And there aren’t that many of us on this floor right now. I don’t hesitate, swinging open the door as the announcement is repeated again, fully audible now that the door is open and no longer providing a barrier to the sound.

“Code blue. All available personnel to room 310. Code blue.”

Room 310.

Jaemin.

He must have not put the monitor on correctly again. He must have not taped it on. It must have come loose. Right? I clutch at the doorframe, my entire field of vision spinning violently and nauseatingly as a rapid response team pushes a cart past my room, dashing down the hall at top speed. I see Irene following them into Jaemin’s room, her shift not even started yet. I hear Doyoung’s voice call out, somewhere in the distance, sounding miles away.

“No pulse. He isn’t breathing! We have to move fast.” No. This can’t be happening. This isn’t real. I start to run, my feet slamming against the floor as I stumble to his room, my head fuzzy and feet tingling. Everything seems to be moving in slow motion, my own steps sounding louder in my ears. I skid to a halt, frozen in the centre of the hallway, just outside of room 310. My vision is cloudy, blurred with delirium. Through the haze, I see his legs sprawled out on the floor, his stripy-sock clad feet falling awkwardly, almost facing two different directions. No. No, this isn’t real. I’m asleep. I’m having a nightmare. I’ll wake up in a few minutes, I know I will.

Doyoung is leaning over his upper body, covering it from my view, pushing air into the fragile boy’s lungs with a bag valve mask. It’s real. I’m not asleep. He isn’t breathing. Jaemin isn’t breathing.

“Come on, Jaem! Don’t do this to me!” He begs, squeezing the bag valve desperately as another voice yells out, barely audible through the ringing in my ears.

“Defibrillator pads!” A shape, too unclear to make out who as my eyes blur with tears, bends over him, cutting open his favourite South Korean national team football jersey, slapping two pads on his chest. His mum got him that shirt for his birthday. A new shirt that she’d saved up for, as he’d outgrown his last one. Doyoung moves away, no longer touching the boy as the volts run through the defibrillator pads. I watch his entire body twitch with the shock, and then I finally see his face. His eyes are rolled back. His skin is blue.

My entire body goes numb. I stumble backwards in disbelief, falling against the wall as my chest tightens and a mind-splitting sob racks through my body.

“Jaemin!” My throat burns at the scream that erupts from my lips, wanting to get to him, wanting him to be okay, wanting to touch him, to hold him close, to be his best friend. Doyoung turns immediately, his eyes locking onto me, widening as he shouts out.

“No! Someone get her away from here.” No. I have to stay. I have to be with Jaemin. I have to. My head spins, eyes fixed on the still boy upon the floor, not daring to look away.

“Massive tension pneumothorax. His lung is collapsing. Get me an intubation tray!” A voice calls. I barely register the words, sounding as though they were coming from the depths of the ocean, distorted and drowned as I stare at his unmoving chest, using every iota of energy, of life, in my body to will it to lift.

Breathe. He has to breathe.

“Promise me, Y/N. Promise me that you’ll remember my face. Promise that you’ll remember me. So that if you… If you go to heaven today, you can recognise me when I get there too.” He whispers, lip trembling. I stare back at him, my own eyes becoming cloudy with tears as I clutched Junnie tightly.

“I’ll always remember you. Even if I go up there, even if I’m not down here anymore, then just know that I’ll wait for you. And… and when you get there, I’ll give you the biggest hug in the world.”

“A hug worth a lifetime of hugs.” Jaemin affirms, nodding his tiny head at me, a smile tugging at both of our lips.

Bodies are all around me, trying to pull me backwards and away from view. I don’t dare to look away from him. I need to get to my best friend. I need to get to Jaemin. I fight, struggling against arms, hands and shoulders that attempt to restrain me, somehow finding the strength to push them away. I lunge forward, making it to the door of 310, clutching the doorframe tightly in order to stay on my feet.

“Don’t l-leave me, Jaem, p-please! I love you s-so much! Please, I don’t want you t-to go! You c-can’t!” I sob, praying to every God, begging every holy being, wishing upon every fucking star in the sky. He has to make it. He has to.

“Close that door!” Doyoung yells as hands finally manage to pull my weak form back out into the hallway. I hear his voice one more time, but this time he’s speaking to Jaemin, desperation pouring from his lips. “Fight, Jaem! Fight, goddammit!”

Through my tears, I see Irene, her eyes dark.

Then the door closes in my face.

The hands leave my body as I stumble backwards, my legs wobbly and unstable. I turn, not sure what to do with myself. I see Haechan standing behind me, his face as colourless as Jaemin’s. He reaches out for me, wanting to comfort me when words can do no such thing, then closes his hands into fists, frustration overtaking his features. Nausea washes over me as the numbness begins to subside, utter and absolute pain overcoming my chest and making it impossible to breathe. I think I’m going to be sick. I press my back against the wall, sliding down onto the floor, my breathing coming in short gasps as my head spins and my stomach churns uncomfortably. Haechan sits down against the wall, five feet away. He doesn’t say a word, and I’m glad. No words, no pathetic stringing of words could make this any better. I wrap my shaking arms around my legs firmly, resting my head on my knees and squeezing my eyes tightly shut. In what should be the blackness of the backs of my eyelids, all I see is him. Jaemin. Lying there. Completely still.

Striped hospital socks.

Burgundy and dark blue soccer jersey.

He’ll be okay. He has to be okay. He’ll sit up and make a joke about eating too much, or being so shocked by a Gordon Ramsay comeback, or swooning too hard over Kim Jongin. He’ll smile that dazzling grin, pearly whites glittering under the fluorescent lights, and he’ll ask if I want to go get a late-night milkshake with him. The same milkshakes we’ve been having together for ten years. The same milkshakes we need to have together for another decade.

“Promise me, Y/N. Promise me that you’ll remember my face. Promise that you’ll remember me. So that if you… If you go to heaven today, you can recognise me when I get there too.”

“A hug worth a lifetime of hugs.”

I hear rushed footsteps, my head snapping up to see Dr. Moon hurrying down the hallway. I shoot up from the floor, hauling my shaky body to my feet to stand before him.

“Taeil-” I start, my voice breaking as I cry. He pushes past me.

“Not now, Y/N.” He says firmly, entering Jaemin’s room. I turn to face the door to 310. It swings wide and I see him. His face is turned toward me, his eyes slightly open, glazed over and locked onto the wall just beside my head. He isn’t moving. He still isn’t moving. Why isn’t he moving?

But worse than that is Doyoung. The respiratory therapist sits to the side, legs sprawled in front of him, leaning forward with his head in his hands as his body shakes. He’s stopped trying. They’ve stopped trying. No. They’re taking everything off of him. The wires. The defibrillator pads. The intubation tube. They’ve given up. They’ve given up on him.

“No!” I hear myself scream, hands flying up to my head to grip at my hair, my entire body screeching alongside me.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Doyoung mutters, his voice shaking, unable to look at me. I look from him to Irene, tears streaming down her own cheeks as she takes a step towards me.

“No. No.” I shake my head, taking a step back as my chest burns with pain, blinking profusely, tears spilling down my cheeks. “No!”

He’s gone. Jaemin is gone.

I stumble down the hallway, seeing his eyes the day we first met, seeing him smile at me from his bedroom door, seeing his hand resting in mine through the kitchen mitt only a few hours earlier.

“Promise that you’ll remember me.”

He wasn’t supposed to be the one who died. He wasn’t supposed to die before I did. Not with his lung function being so much better than mine. Not with all of the things he had to live for. My fingers blindly reach for the door, finding the handle to my door. I crash through, the door slamming loudly against the wall behind me, everything blurring as tears stream down my face.

I spin around to see Haechan has followed me, and I take a step closer as sobs rack my body, making my rib cage ache and my chest tighten, as though a snake is wrapping itself around my torso, becoming impossible to breathe.

“He’s gone. Haechan, he’s gone! Jeno, his parents, oh my god.” I shake my head, clutching at my sides, nails digging into the skin hard, but I can’t feel it. “Hyuck! He was just about to... They’ll never see him again.” It’s only after saying those words out loud, after putting them into context, that the realisation slams into me, knocking all the air out of my lungs and rendering me unable to gasp out for breath. “I’ll never see him again.” I ball my hands into fists as I pace. “I never even hugged him. Never. Don’t touch! Don’t stand too close. Don’t, don’t, don’t!” I scream out, hysterical, coughing, dizzy. “He was my best friend and I never hugged him.” And I never will. The feeling is so horribly familiar; I can’t stand it. “This disease is a fucking prison!” I scream, fingers gripping chunks of my hair at the scalp as I cry. “I have to watch as my family and friends drown in themselves, drown in the expectance that I’m going to die, drown in their grief for Yeji, all while I’m dying, while I’m drowning in my own fucking lungs!” I gasp, tears blurring my vision as I blink at the teary-eyed boy before me. “I can’t even fucking touch you, Hyuck! I can’t get closer than six fucking feet. I can’t touch you like I couldn’t touch Jaemin, and now he’s... he’s... God!” I pace faster, feeling a few strands of hair rip from my scalp at the pressure as my grip tightens on them. “This- this distance... It’s fucking suffocating! We’re drowning in every aspect, Hyuck, can’t you see?” My throat aches at the heart-wrenching sobs that escape my cracked lips. “I’m losing everyone.” I manage, voice breaking with my cries. Yeji’s gone, and the most precious gift she ever gave me, my best friend, is gone too.

“You’re not losing me.” Haechan says, his voice soft but determined. He walks toward me, reaching out, his arms almost wrapping around me. In my desperation to feel something, anything, I almost let him, too.

“No!” I shove him away, placing both my hands on his chest, stumbling back, further and further, well past five, six, seven feet. I stare at him, eyes wide as I press my back against the far wall, now an entire room separating us. “What the fuck are you doing? Why did you do that?” I cry out, staring at him like he’s fucking crazy, which he is. He was close enough to touch me… I touched him. My god, I touched him. Realisation fills his eyes, and he backs away to the door, enlarging the distance between us, looking horrified. He stammers, absolutely speechless, lips moving and no words coming out for a few moments. A mix of emotions bubbles in the pit of my stomach as I stare at him, glancing down to my hands that had been placed upon his chest only moments before.

“Oh, f-fuck. Y/N. I- I wasn’t thinking. I j-just-”

“Get out.” I whisper, voice shaking, but he’s already in the hallway, already sprinting back to his room. As I cross the room, I picture his face once again, visualising the pure horror at his own actions. I slam my door, my head pounding with anger and with fear.

I look around the room, head still fuzzy and eyes blurred with unshed tears, and all I see is loss. It’s everywhere. It clings to the walls, the floors, even my skin. My hands burn, as though the B. cepacia is seeping into my skin and eating away at the flesh. Nausea grips my stomach, churning it uncomfortably. The entire room spins and the walls close in on me, closer and closer until it’s all too much. This isn’t a bedroom. It’s a fucking prison. I cross the room, marching directly to the wall, my fingers curling around the edges of one of the many posters covering the clinical white. It gives way, tearing away from the hospital wall. I reach for more, ripping them down in their masses and leaving them in shreds upon the floor. I snatch the comforter from atop of my bed, throwing the pillows across the room, and then the bedspread too, leaving it bare. My fingers find Junnie, gripping him tightly for a moment before releasing him, flinging him at the door. I shove all the books and papers and to-do lists from my desk, everything clattering loudly to the ground. I gasp for air, feeling entirely unable to get a good breath, to have enough oxygen in my lungs to function properly. I’m fucking drowning. I’ve been drowning my entire life and yet, somehow, this moment feels the worst. My hands reach for the med cart, flinging item after item from the metal around the room in random directions, the bottles rattling as they crash into the floor, some popping open and spilling onto the linoleum, multi-coloured pills rolling in every direction. Nobody is ever going to see Na Jaemin again. Nobody is ever going to find out how much of an amazing cook he is. Nobody is ever going to see him at the X-Games or the next Summer Olympics for skateboarding. Nobody is ever going to see him sat in some famous restaurant, tasting and reviewing all of the food with his boyfriend, Jeno. Nobody is ever going to spot him at a Kim Jongin concert, sobbing in the stands with a lightstick in hand. Nobody is ever going to see him and his mother reunited after years apart. Nobody is ever going to see his wedding day. I’m never going to see any of those things. I’m never going to see him again. He’s dead. He’s gone. And he isn’t coming back. I stagger backwards, the weight of those words hitting me like a bullet train and rendering me unable to do anything other than gasp, wheezing for air. I blindly grab at my nightstand, first for stability, but then my fingers wrap around the first thing I can get my hands on, throwing it at the wall harshly.

The glass jar shatters against the wall, the shards jangling as they hit the floor, black truffles scattering across the linoleum. I freeze, hand still raised from where I had flung the jar, watching them roll in every direction. Jaemin’s truffles. Everything goes quiet except for the wheezing of my chest, heaving as I attempt to breathe, in and out, in and out. Then I see the post-it note, having fallen from the glass in my haste to throw it, landing directly at my feet. My eyes flicker over the words, over the poorly inked letters over Jaemin’s awful chicken scrawl.

‘You’re right. For once.’

I sink to my knees, sobs wracking my entire body as I pick up the small piece of paper with shaky hands, holding it up in front of my face, not daring to let my tears spill upon the sheet and smudge the ink. I cry for a few minutes, heart shattering in the chasm of my chest, not a single sound able to escape my chapped lips. I want to scream, to yell at the top of my lungs, but I can’t even do that. It’s when I look back up at the note that my eyes flicker over to the other side of the room, falling on the shattered glass. The truffles. I scramble to my feet, placing the note on the now empty desk and stumbling through the mess that now litters the floor. I crouch down, trying desperately to pick up the small, black truffles, one by one, collecting them in my hand. I lean to the side, my free hand wrapping around a still-standing, empty container on the bottom shelf of my med cart. I pop open the cap, tilting my hand so that the pile of truffles tumbles neatly into the newly-purposed pill bottle, then listening as the cap clicks shut. I sit back on my heels, gripping the bottle tightly, and look at Junnie, toppled over on his side, ragged and worn, surrounded by shards of glass and shredded posters, a lone truffle resting against his tattered, no longer white, leg. His blank eyes stare back at me, almost sad. I reach out, picking him up, and hug him to my chest, as tightly as I can. I think about Renjun, wishing I could see him. Though the last time I’d spoken to him was over ten years ago, he’d know exactly what to say. I know he would. He was always smart, with such a bright future. Until he didn’t have a future at all. My eyes travel over the mess covering the floor, over the torn band posters, over the scattered photos of my friends and I, to Yeji’s lung drawing, having survived the pull from the wall. The picture of the two of us didn’t have the same luck. The glass of the frame is cracked, as though splitting the two of us apart, right down the centre. I stay there for God knows how long, just staring at everything, clutching both Junnie and the truffles to my chest, a thousand memories behind each item, a thousand memories for each lost friend. Eventually, I stand up on shaky legs, managing to make my way across the room, where I collapse onto the bed, curling up into a tiny ball on the bare vinyl mattress, shutting my eyes tightly as tears continue to stream down my face as I lie there, alone. Alone with my thoughts. Alone with my memories. Alone with my regrets.

I lie awake, staring at the ceiling as the moonlight glares into my room, through the open curtains, everything giving way to numbness as evening drifts into early morning. My eyes flicker over to the clock before flickering back to the clinical white of the walls and ceiling. It’s only two-thirty. How is it only two-thirty? It hasn’t even been three hours since… God, it doesn’t feel real. I must have been the one to die, trapped in a never-ending nightmare that is a world without him. Without Jaemin.

‘I have to watch as my family and friends drown in themselves, drown in the expectance that I’m going to die, drown in their grief for Yeji, all while I’m dying, while I’m drowning in my own fucking lungs!’ I had yelled. ‘This- this distance... It’s fucking suffocating! We’re drowning in every aspect, Hyuck, can’t you see?’

It’s something that I’d never thought about before, and yet something which made perfect sense. If not the mucus that filled my lungs day-in-day-out, it would be the space between myself and the only other people on the planet who could possibly understand that did it; that drowned me. In my last gasping breath, what would I be thinking about? Those that I’d leave behind, or those that I’d finally be reunited with? Confined and cursed to a life of isolation, of cautiousness, of missing out; was that really life? I remember Haechan’s words to me, that day in the gym when he’d confronted me about Yej.

‘But, Y/N. That’s not living’

Maybe he was right.

My phone vibrates noisily on the floor, incessant and irritating, but I ignore it. I don’t want to talk to anyone. Not Haechan. Not my parents. Not Karina and Tzuyu. What’s the point? I’ll die or they will, and this cycle of people dying and people grieving will just continue. We’re all stranded in the ocean, and we’ll all drown eventually. That grief will pull us below the waves, whether it’s now or later, so why fight? If life has taught me anything, it’s that grief can destroy a person. It destroyed my parents. It will destroy Jaemin’s mother. Jeno. And me. My entire life, I’d been so okay with dying. I’ve always known it would happen. It’s been this inevitable thing that I’ve lived with forever, this awareness that I would die long before Yeji and my parents. And I’d accepted that. I was ready for it. I was never, ever ready to grieve myself. I was supposed to be the one to die long before everyone else, why would I be ready to grieve? I’d always thought it unfair. The pot luck that is life. They call it pot luck, but is it really luck when some die? When some go hungry and some live without a roof over their head? That’s not luck. And now, as I have for the last few hours, I can’t help but wonder what I would be thinking about in those last moments of life. If I had been damned by pot luck, condemned to a life of misfortune, would that last breath mean anything? I ask myself again; would I think about those that I’d leave behind, or those that I’d be reunited with?

I can’t stare at this damn ceiling anymore. I push myself up, placing the truffles gently upon the empty bed beside Junnie, before wading through the wreckage that my room has become, stepping around pill bottles and pieces of glass, my striped hospital socks padding against the linoleum. I pick up my phone as I go, crouching down for it, feeling it vibrate in the palm of my hand. I slip on some shoes, over by the door, and drift out into the hallway, heading toward room 310. Jaemin’s room. I don’t know why. I walk slowly but surely, unable to stop my feet. I blink harshly, trying to shake the image of my best friend’s cold, still body laying upon the floor, his skin blue and eyes glazed over, unfocused. My chest tightens as I peer inside. Some part of me expects to see Jaemin sitting there, propped up against a mountain of pillows, looking up at me with a dazzling grin as I pass by, like this was all a sick, twisted nightmare. I hear him say my name, the playfully flirtatious drawl of his voice as he wiggles his eyebrows at me. If anybody else spoke to me like that, I’d probably run, but it was the way he said it, with that look of warmth in his shining eyes, that glittering smile reflecting the clinical white of the walls, giving them life. Instead, it’s an empty hospital room, the walls bare, a lone skateboard, decorated in an abundance of stickers, leaning against the bed. One of the few traces that Jaemin had left behind. And Jeno. He sits on the bed, his head in his hands, his dark hair a ruffled mess, a half-filled box sat next to him. He’s come to collect Jaemin’s belongings. The KAI poster. The South Korean national football team jersey. The plaid comforter. The spice rack. He sobs, his body shaking violently as he holds the comforter close to his chest, just like I had done with the truffles. I want to say something, to comfort him. But I don’t have the words.

My feet move before I can register what I’m doing. I step past the threshold of the door, for the first time in my life. They will have cleaned it top to bottom before letting Jeno in here, not that I really care about the risks anymore. We stuck to the rules, we took no risks, and yet Jaemin is dead. At the sound of footsteps, Jeno’s head shoots up. His eyes are swollen, red and bloodshot, filled to the brim with tears. Much like mine, I imagine. It had barely been a few hours and yet here he was, collecting Jaemin’s items as his only connection in the country other than me. I think about his mother, the sound of the screams she must have let out down the phone haunting me, as though I had really heard them. Jeno’s fingers grip the blanket tighter, his lip quivering slightly. His cheeks are blotchy, tears streaking down his skin. We stare at each other for a few seconds, and then he stands, placing the comforter gently into the box before taking a step towards me. No longer able to keep composure, he lets out a loud, heart-wrenching sob and collapses onto the floor, legs no longer able to keep him on his feet. I move forward and drop to my knees, pulling him into a tight embrace, gripping at his shoulders as he sobs into my shirt, my own eyes welling with tears. His hands pull at my shirt as he lets it all out, yells of utter heartache escaping his lips. I try to ignore the fact that I sit in the exact spot that Jaemin lay just a few hours before, just listening to Jeno weeping and allowing silent tears to slide down my own face.

We stay like that for what felt like hours but easily could have been a few seconds, Jeno’s sobs subsiding into pained hiccups, another layer of fresh tears drying upon my face. I rub his back, letting my hand slide up and down, the other hand in his hair, just holding him close. Holding him like I would have held Jaem.

“He loved you, Jen. He-” My gut twists at the past tense, but it doesn’t feel right to use the present either. I let out a long, drawn-out breath before continuing. “He really did.” If I use present tense, it means he’s still here. It means that it’s all a nightmare, and that he’s going to come around the corner on the skateboard beside us, crashing into the doorframe and bursting out laughing. Jeno nods against my chest, biting back further cries, but I feel new tears seeping through the material of my shirt. “Did he ever tell you about our promise?” I ask after a while, feeling as the boy shakes his head and humming in response. “When we were nine, I had a risky surgery and he cried for two days, refusing all his treatments until he saw me, a-alive and well. He hadn’t seen me before that surgery, and he was worried that he wouldn’t get to say goodbye.” I swallow, feeling the lump in my throat rise even further. I feel like I’m going to throw up, speaking about it like this, but I think Jeno needs to hear it. I think it’ll put his mind to, at least, a little bit of ease. I let my vision become blurred with tears, allowing my hands to tighten their grip on the boy in my arms. “He made me promise, the next time I had a surgery, that I would remember his face. That I would remember him. So that i-if I went to heaven that day, if I left him alone in the hospital, that I would r-recognise him when he got up there too.” Jeno sniffles, and my own chest shakes with a suppressed sob. “I t-told him that I’d always remember him. And that if I went u-up there, that I’d wait for him with open arms. That I’d give him the biggest hug in the w-world.” Jeno pulls away from my hold, removing my arms from him. He lifts his head and looks at me, his eyes sad. A terrible attempt at a smile crosses his lips and his voice is scratchy, deeper than usual.

“It’s okay. Let it out.” Though I want to hold back, to be strong and put up my usual front, the words are like a hairpin trigger. He pulls me into his arms, holding me the way I’d held him. The way that Jaemin would have held me.

A hug worth a lifetime of hugs.

I sob, ugly and body-wracking cries that echo around the chasm where my heart used to be.

“He m-made me promise e-every time after that. Every time o-one of us had a s-surgery, we p-promised that we’d r-remember each other l-like this. So w-we could meet again.” I manage in between sobs, needing to get the words out, needing to let him know. He stays silent, but I know he’s listening. “He’ll r-remember us, Jeno. He… He’ll remember you.” I feel Jeno’s chest shake as he cries. “And… And when we g-get up there, he’ll be w-waiting for us.” Tears stream down both of our faces as we sit upon the floor that Jaemin had walked upon only hours before, when we’d returned from the party. Jeno’s hand moves from my back and takes my own, squeezing my hand tightly in reconciliation. “He’ll tell us h-how we’ve taken forever, a-and how the food is s-so awful that he’s r-resorted to starvation as a principle, l-like Ghandi.” Jeno laughs, a genuine, yet still sad laugh. I let out a teary chuckle of my own, pulling away from the hug to look at him. A small, real smile sits upon his lips, mirroring my expression.

“He’ll complain a-about the lack of appreciation f-for-” He starts, but I cut in with a scoff.

“Kim Jongin.” We say together, before bursting out into laughter. His eyes curve upwards, disappearing with a smile of remembrance.

“He’ll t-tell us that the TV up there is awful, a-and how he’s had to rerun full e-episodes of Kitchen Nightmares in his head, j-just to get his daily f-fix of Gordon Ramsay.” I giggle through the continuous flow of tears, Jeno joining me with a shake of his head.

“Him and his Gordon Ramsay, huh?” I laugh, my lip quivering. Him and his Gordon Ramsay indeed. I lean forward once more, resting my head against Jeno’s chest. He places his chin atop of my head and we stay like that, in comfortable silence, for who knows how long. There’s an understanding between the two of us now. The understanding of loss, of pain, of grief. Jaemin would have liked to see us like this. Two of his favourite people, he’d say. We’re you’re only people, Jaem, I’d retort. He’d scowl but his lips would turn up into a grin as Jeno snickered. She’s got a point, Jeno would laugh. You’re supposed to be on my side! Besides, my mum says I’m her favourite boy, Jaem would sulk. You’re her only boy, I’d grin cheekily. He’d scoff, lips parted in feigned shock and hurt. I’m abused, he’d pout. I can hear his voice saying the words, I can see his pearly whites, I can smell his favourite cologne, I can taste the flaked truffles atop of eggs in the morning, I can feel my heart beating in my chest, beating for my best friend, beating for Jaemin. Jeno and I cry in each other’s embrace, holding each other the way we wished to have held Jaem. The way I never got to hold Jaem. The way Jeno will never get to hold him again.

After a while, Jeno politely asks to be left alone for a while, to which I happily oblige. I don’t know how much longer I could have stayed in that room, honestly. Though the atmosphere was slightly happier, the knowledge that I was on the floor where Jaem had lay, where he had died, made my skin crawl. I give him a parting smile, which he returns, before sitting back upon the bed and picking up the comforter, pulling it close to his chest. He’s no longer sobbing, a sad, tearful smile upon his lips as he takes in the scent of the blanket, of his boyfriend.

I exit, continuing down the hallway, feeling my chest ache. It’s almost like the feeling when I can’t get any air in, but I have all of the air. I have all of the oxygen that Jaem couldn’t get, and yet I feel like I’m drowning. I squeeze my eyes shut for a brief moment, the wheeze of my chest louder than usual as I breathe in, then out. In, then out. As I pass, my fingertips drag along the door of 315, feeling the wood under their touch. The bedside lamp in Hyuck’s room is on, dim light visible through the gap between the base of the door and the linoleum of the floor, daring me to knock. Daring me to lift my hand once, twice, to let it fall upon the wood. Daring me to go to him. I ignore it, continuing down the hallway, feeling lightheaded and fuzzy, as though drifting rather than walking.

My feet take me up sets of stairs and down hallways and through doors and past blurred faces until I come to a sudden stop, no longer moving, no longer floating. I look up from the battered canvas of my shoes, eyes tracing over the clinical white until the sign for the children’s playroom comes into view. My breath catches in my throat as I stare at the colourful letters, why did I come here? I allow my gaze to drift, in through the viewing window, scanning over painted animals, landscapes, clouds, rainbows, that litter the walls inside. This was where it had all started. Where I came on my first day at Saint Evangeline’s. Where I met Jisung and Chenle for the first time. Chenle is a CFer too. His lung function is pretty high considering his age, so he’s got a good shot at a lung transplant. Jisung, on the other hand, has chronic bronchitis, caused by an alpha-1 antitrypsin deficiency. The pair of them were equally as friendly and inviting back then as they are now, hilarious in their own ways, but all the funnier together. I remember, all of us so small and innocent, so unaware of the struggles that we’d have to face just to survive, just to stay alive. I stare at the mural covering the walls, imagining the four of us playing together: me, Jaemin, Jisung, Chenle and Yeji, the five of us having no idea that we had such little life ahead of us. And so much of that life was to be spent right here, inside this godforsaken hospital. I pull at the collar of my shirt uncomfortably, peeling the fabric away from my sweaty skin. For the first time in all my years at Saint Evangeline’s, staring at the playroom like this, I feel the urge to run, to run as far as I can and get as far away from this hospital as I can. I need to get out. I need air.

Flying down the hallway, I head back into Building 1, slamming the elevator button until the steel doors slide open, and the elevator pulls me back down to my floor. Yanking open my door, I turn my head to look warily over at my obsessively organized med cart. All I’ve done for the longest time is take my meds and go through my stupid to-do lists, trying to stay alive for as long as possible. But why? I stopped living the day Yeji died. So what’s the point? Jaemin pushed everyone away so he wouldn’t hurt them, but it didn’t make a bit of difference. Jeno is still sitting on his bed, crushed, the weeks they could have had together spiralling through his head. Whether I die now or ten years from now, my parents will be crushed. And all I’ll have done is make myself miserable focusing on a few extra breaths.

I slam open my closet door to grab my coat and scarf and gloves, wanting to get away from all of this. I throw my portable O2 concentrator into its satchel and head for the door. Peering into the hallway, I see the nurses’ station is empty. I clutch at the strap of the bag, pulling it further up on my shoulder, turning toward the stairwell at the end of the hall. Walking quickly, I push open the door before anyone can see me, coming face-to-face with the first set of stairs. I climb one by one, each step bringing me closer to freedom, each gasp for air a challenge to the universe. I run, the exhilaration pushing everything else from my mind. Soon the red exit door is in front of me. I pull out the folded bank note of Haechan’s, still in my coat pocket after all this time. Using it to hold the alarm button down, I pull open the door and use a brick leaning against the wall to keep it open. I step onto the roof and move to the edge to see the world below. I take a deep breath of the biting air and let out a long scream. I scream until my voice gives way to coughs. But it feels good. Looking down, my lungs heaving, I see Haechan in his room down below. He pulls a large duffel bag onto his shoulder, heading for the door.

He’s leaving.

Lee Donghyuck is leaving.

I look to the holiday lights in the distance, twinkling like stars, calling out to me.

This time I respond.

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