#has one of the shittiest ending in television history and i will never shut up about it

[a0random0gal]

Watching everyone somehow enjoy the ending while you sulk in the corner, cause you read the last chapter 2 years ago and have been hating it ever since:

[randominternetbosonignog785]

Mikans last Christmas.

So this story was something I was going to release on christmas but then i gave up on it, but then I diddnt, so here you go. Disclaimer its kinda gory n stuff has some naughty language and its a tad bit suggestive but its pretty pg bois.

Twas the night before christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. Though there were no stockings by the walls, nor trees or presents to brighten up the halls, but instead were cupboards and draws blocking out the doors and half flipped scattered tables to shield a man that was barely keeping himself stable.

Every piece of furniture was stripped from their place, only to be used as blockades to keep out any new face. In normal circumstances many people would think  the house was a tip but when it came to the biggest, most awful, most tragic event in human history, everyone had to get a grip.

Behind one of the half flipped tables near a cracked television, a large man wrinkled with age sat roughly on the floor with his rear resting against the desk's backside. The man had a slight beer belly, his scalp was just beginning to lose its hair and overall he just about had enough of life; what you'd expect from a fifty year old man who was down on his luck in the world, although ever since a certain wanker decided to ram a glass dagger into his right arm - ever since the world went tits up out of nowhere, his lucks been shit.

"Haaaarrgh...grrrrrr!"

The man gurgled and growled out his pain as he attempted to thrust a towel he found in one of his daughters med kits onto the red bleeding pool that flushed out of his arm. '

Apply with firm pressure? Even the fuckin manual's trying to kill me.' The squirming man thought to himself. Soon enough, he simply gave up and just decided to lie on the floor of his living room to try and get at least a wink of sleep, trying his best to ignore the niggling and nagging of the nerves in his wounded arm. It was hard finding the peace of sleep though, as the outside world he once knew had now become a hostile alien planet he might die in at any given moment and it didn't help that the air felt thicker than usual.

A few weeks.

It had only been a few weeks since he had his last pint, but now everybody started stabbing each other. It had only been a few weeks since he last relaxed watching his favorite shows on his favorite armchair, but now he was shivering on the floor, lacking the courage to go and sleep in his own bedroom. It had only been a few weeks since his worthless daughter had enrolled in some school for smart sods...

But now she was probably dead.

"Daddy?"

Almost feeling like a second after his conscience finally slipped into slumber, the rugged man abruptly snapped awake once more upon hearing a voice call out from the darkness, presumingly for him.

"Daddy? Are you still here?"

The female voice sounded so slender and savoury yet innocent and playful and it chilled the man to his bone. The man couldn't figure out how someone broke through his homemade barricade, but he couldn't feel surprised either, but it didn't matter now. He was now sharing his house with the one of many psychopaths that infested the outside world.

"Daaaddy~ where are you?"

'The sick fuck must be getting some sort of kink out of this' the man swore in his mind. Suddenly without warning, a heavy shower started to spew and spatter outside and somehow, the individual splats and taps managed to pierce through the man's ear drums, yet at this point the girl's calm yet threatening voice was able to drown out the rain itself.

That bitch was getting closer.

The man now knew he had no time left. He knew that it was do or die, he knew it was time to be a man. The voice sounded like it belonged to some kid, so why was he pissing his pants in his little time out corner? Finally, he remembered that he had one of his kitchen knives sitting around his used med kit and picked it up. He wasn't gonna let some little shit be the end of him.

"There you are daddy."

Before he could even start to gather his courage, that cold, icey siren of a voice was already singing next to him and a chilling warmth somehow caressed his ear. The man's heart skipped a beat. She was this close already.

He should have just skedaddled, the man should just have vamoosed but instead his bottom was eternally bound to the floor and all he did was instinctively turn around in complete despair. The man expected the intruder to stab his stomach or simply inject another piece of glass into his other arm, but instead, The very same second his heart refused to beat, his mouth was suddenly covered by some sort of thick tissue and then caused a sudden drowsiness to spread inside him. He felt weak. Before his very being fell into darkness he only caught a brief glimpse of his assassin's eyes, but it was enough information he had to know to effectively deduce who it was that had sealed his fate.

Out of anyone in the world that could have taken away his pointless life, it of course had to be his very own daughter. It was the same child he had neglected for so many years and if it was her out of all the other crazy fuckers ending his life; the man didn't seem to mind.

The man's muscles soon refused to twitch let alone break his fall as he plummeted, back first onto the floor. Despite the fact that his entire body was instantly shutting down though, somehow he managed to keep the dumbbells weighing upon his lids alift for a few seconds longer, just to try and see for certain if whoever stood above him really was who he thought and sure enough the thin girl that invaded his thoughts toward before the man.

Her straw-like hair was tangled and drowned in scalp snot and her usual nurse-like outfit was filthy and terribly torn. Her small speckless face though, in a way relieved the man with its familierality but at the same time horrified him with its grave difference in expression. The constant worry from her puppy-like eyes was gone, now replaced with an expression that the man couldn't possibly describe as happiness, but she was smiling; harder and more larger than she ever smiled before. 'Come to think of it', the man last thought, he had never seen his own daughter smile. He regretted that he had to think such a thought and he regretted how it came to this. He regretted everything and in his last moments of consciousness all the man could do was regret.

Why didn't he ever notice that he had such a beautiful daughter?

The saw sinks right into the leg bone~

The right arm tears off the elbow~

Apply firm pressure, don't leave the wounds open~

Don't forget to sterilise with cream~

"I did it daddy. Merry christmas."

After what seemed like an eternity, feeling as if at random, the man's eyelids finally decided to open, while at the same time his stomach felt as if it was still debating whether or not it wanted to burst open. He was on a bed and it felt impossible to get up. The man's sight invited him back to a blurry mess of a world, mangled with muddy pixels of blacks and greys that were meshed with a glowing orange that most likely represented light, and on top it all off, he was just about having the shittiest headache he ever had in his life. He wasn't dead at the very least, but dear god he might as well have been.

"Daddy, you're finally awake!"

Listening to that voice yet again...he now unmistakingly knew that it was his daughter who was talking.

"Mikan, what happened? What are you doing here?" The man's gritty growl of a voice, strained from obvious- stress finally uttered the name of his child. The pixelated colours that represented his proposed daughter were still mixed in with the blacks and greys of the room but slowly yet surely, he could already tell his sight was reorganising the world back together again.

"The outside world daddy." She purred. "It's scary out there. People who I thought were my friends started stabbing each other and some even started slicing off their hands and fingers and if it wasnt that they'd end up killing themselves. I was so scared."

She wasn't being serious. Given The context of her small speech, the man should have been able to feel some small amount of sorrow, but he felt none. All he could catch was the disguised yet painfully clear sarcasm in the girl's voice, which drained all the weight from her words.

"I came back home because I knew it would be safe."

That wasn't true, was it? She was back to kill him, just like the rest of me. It was the only thing that made sense; to get revenge on how he treated her. After thinking about it for a second though, the man probably deserved it.

"I saw you fainted on the floor when I found you daddy. So I took you to my room and took very special care of you."

Another obvious lie added to the man's paranoia and was beginning to feel iller by the second. What in God's name did mikan-

!

He couldn't move his right hand. No. He couldn't feel his right hand. In disbelief as well as desperation, the man worriedly wiggled every last limb that was still attached to his body, and where his lower left leg should have jolted...

Shit! He was drugged right? He must've been dreaming right? It was a dream. It had to be a dream! The meshy fog in the man's eyes finally felt like clearing and with all his inner strength he turned his head round to face his right arm; but all that was left was the arm and all that came out of its tip it was a small lump of thickly layered bandages, dyed in dry blood.

It was a fucked up dream. The man continued thinking. He couldn't feel the pain right? So it was just a fucked up dream, birthed from his newfound daily stresses. The pain from his old arm injury must have been giving him a horrific nightmare.

"It was hard patching you up when you were bleeding so heavily daddy." The bitch went on. "I had to give you a ton of painkillers and stuff to keep you from feeling the pain. I'm sorry. You must feel terrible right now. It's a good thing I saved you."

She was fucking insane. Painkillers? No- the only reason he couldn't feel the pain was because he was dreaming; This was just my mind's way of punishing him. There's no way he should still be alive like this.

"Good thing the ultimate nurse was here to save you daddy and don't worry I'll take care of you. I won't let you die like everyone else daddy. You're safe with me daddy."

"All you need now is me."

Fuck. Shit. fucking shit. This cant be fucking happning! How the hell did it come to this? The man couldn't curse enough. This was too fucked up to be a dream, but at the same time it was too fucked up to be real, but it just had to be fucking dreaming. Being drugged by his own daughter had to be a fucking dream. All of the last few weeks had to be a fucking dream. He had to believe it was. He had to for the sake of what small sanity he had left, and as if by reading his thoughts the monster smiled. Mavoilevent, vengeful and pure evil were the only words that spawned when the man's now mushy mind attempted to decipher such a grin. This was how he died: by the hands of his own fucking kid. Now accepting that, the man then realised that keeping himself aware of the living world was only going to make him fearful of the inevitable and so he let his heavy eyelids fall just so he could at least have the luxury of dying without knowing what hit him, but something out of place then uttered from Mikans small lips.

"So what do you want to do first?"

A question instead of a threat. Was it curiosity instead of bloodlust? Despite still hearing that wrongfully playful tone in his daughters still silk like voice, for whatever reason, the girl's strange question gave the man enough hair on his balls to open up his eyes to his assassin yet again. This time he was eye to eye with mikans face; her straw like hair gravitated towards him and her skin: crystal clear, causing what was left of her innocence to glow, while also horribly smudged with scars and bruises of the past, reminding the man of why he was here now. She was almost on top of him and only her slender arms held her above the man, acting as cemented pillars beside his neck. The man's response was delayed by the surprise of Mikan's random actions and all he could offer in exchange was a limp wimper of confusion.

Was she going to kill him or not?

Mikan then suddenly retreated from her pose and sat down at the end of the bed, avoiding squishing his leg. Well, the one that still had an end to it.

"Comon’ daddy, now we can play anything you want. Maybe you can try drawing on me, everyone always loved doing that back at school so you should give it a try!"

"What?" The man finally spat out.

"I'm sorry!" She blurted apologetically, while also completely out of place. "Maybe that's too weird for you. Do you want me to squeal like a pig again? You always loved doing that daddy. Roleplay was always your favorite."

Why? Why was she asking this? Did she develop a thing for fucking massicasisom while she was gone? He couldn't question everything enough, the man's mind just began to melt from stress and confusion. Despite the lingering silence the man couldn't help but create though, without any sign of permission Mikan settled onto the floor boards on all fours and simply started to squeal like a pig.

This was it. This was hell. This was God's heavenly punishment.

"@#$@%*!"

It was his fault she ended up like this. The man knew this now. Why did fate have to ram the fact down his throat?

"#$@%*^=!"

He fucking got it. He made his kid into a fucking physcopath. Big hoo-fuckin-ray! Just kill him for it already!

"Oink. €£#$@%*^=! oink oink."

But the universe thought death wasn't enough. Oh no, the sweet release of death was never enough to right this mans wrongs, experiencing the end of the world was never enough, being disected like a fucking frog was never enough. No.

"#$@%€¥₩! Oink."

He had to endure the desperate screams for attention. Take in the blood curdling cries for mere notice. He had to tolerate the broken girl's ungranted wishes for a better father.

"₩¥€*$%@! $$%£@!"

And he did...until he couldn't.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

She stopped squealing, but the animalistic screams still remained in the man's ears.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

"...Daddy?" She mumbled, somehow sounding shocked at his response.

"Shut...up. please." The man begged. He couldn't take it any more.

"I'm sorry Daddy." The girl apologizes again. With her voice finally sounding more mellow than sadistic. "I forgot you liked to see me do that with all of my clothes off...give me a second."

At this point The man was truly bewildered how he raised such a sad creature.

"Mikan." The man once again called out the name of his child as his eyes began to leak. "Please, enough of this."

Mikan then climbed back onto the end of the bed and locked with my eyes; hers instantly succumbed with certain grief as if she feared those words from the start.

"Daddy I thought you liked playing with me."

I stared back into her eyes with an assertive glance. One way or another, she had to learn that tearing off people’s limbs was some fucked up shit and no way to get what she wanted. It was the only way of redeeming himself, yet not even several seconds passed before she couldn't bare the silent treatment.

"Don’t ignore me Daddy. Dont do that again, please dont ignore me! please forgive me. I know I cut off your arm and your leg but I only did that so you wouldnt leave me alone again, I only did that so we could play forever. I only did that for us Daddy, because I love you! And Daddy loves me."

....

"...right?"

The man did not deserve to admit he loved her back because now he realized that He never deserved love. Not from his daughter, not from his late wife, hell, not even from his own old folks. The man now realised that he was human shit and all he ever offered was a shitty stench to smell for everyone around him and now he had intoxicated Mikan with his vulgar stink. The least he could do now was to relive some of the fumes and stop his daughter from absorbing any more of his odour. All he had to do was ignore her and be lucky for the man: that was what he did best.

!

As if satan himself sent everything he had to crush every shred of the man's newfound resolve, an intense surge of pain he had never felt before, striked at the ends of the dismembered body parts the man had almost forgotten about. He already saw his arm freshly bitten off and his leg cut clean but his mind was only now reacting to his sights and now every ounce of thought he once carried was instantly drowned out by a powerful, primordial pain.

"Ahhh...ahhhhhggghha. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggggghhhhhhh!" This time it was the man's turn to squeal like a pig. The entire world's suffering encapsulated in one single moment - all the man could do was vent all the pain out for all to hear.

"Daddy, Don't scream! Please...please stop screaming like that!"

Panic flourished in the depths of the girl's mind. The painkiller's effect wore off more quickly than she had originally calculated and it was only a matter of time before her dad died of the pain caused by his dismemberment. She knew she had to drug him back to sleep immediately and wait for his wounds to heal, but somehow, the few words that slithered out of the dying man's lips, kept her sat, frozen on the bed.

"Mikan...help me please."

Those few words changed everything.

Her legs were glued. Her heart beated faster and faster but her head paused and her sense of urgency plainly disappeared. The girl's body simply couldn't be bothered to move anymore. What was this feeling?

"Mi-kan....Mi-"

Daddy was dead.

The girl felt no grief. No regret, no remorse, not a trace of despair birthed from her mistake.

She just sat there.

The nonexistent glue still sews her short legs to the mattress of the bed. Her beating heart was still rapid, but her mind acted first.

That feeling was so close to euphoric. She might have been unusual but she always imagined the death of her only family would make her sad but she felt far from that. Then she knew why.

"Daddy...-I was the last person daddy was thinking about. I was the last person on Daddys mind."

All she wanted was attention, all she wanted was agnolegenent, all she wanted was to be loved. Her patients were always weak and broken but thanks to that they depended on her, they were grateful for her and they gave her all the attention she could ever ask for. Drugging daddy and immobilizing him was just a way to make him like one of her patients and if dismembering daddy was going to make him love her forever then that was what she should do. Instead though she ended up murdering him and now she was all alone again But still, that emotion remained. The fact that she was daddy's last thought accelerated her and the feeling of knowing that made her feel so relieved and somehow Mikan couldn't barely bring herself to regret what happened. Daddy was nothing but a corpse now, she knew that she had failed at being the so called 'ultimate nurse,' she knew she'd never see, touch or talk with her father ever again and yet the final begs and pleads for his life felt like more attention than he had ever decided to give to her.

"Daddy is dead." She sobbed. Lines of tears streamed down her skin.

"But I was his last thought. Daddy yearned for me. Daddy wanted me to save him." She giggled. She didn't know why but she went on giggling until the giggles evolved into laughter and eventually the seeds of her laughter bloomed into a savage song of sorry cackles. The conflicted emotions of depression and pleasure clashed in war inside Mikan's mind and the effects of their battle gushed out of Mikan in the form of chuckles and sobs. She didn't know what she should have felt anymore. Mikan had now truly lost her mind.

!

Warmth. Embrace. Love. It was all in a single moment. Her beloved.

"Jun-ko?"

"Shush now Mikan. It's okay."

Her beloved was here and for the first time in ages, Mikan felt cleansed. Her wobbling knelt legs gave way and tumbled down sideways like skyscrapers that crashed down onto the dovay, as the warmth from Junko's breasts aroused her. A Slender yet tender arm caressed the girl's hip and softly squeezed her core; while another gently stroked off the pieces of dandruff burrowed within her straw like hair, giving Mikan an inviting fuzzy feeling inside. It was pure love. If only the world could let her stay like this forever.

"Junko..." Mikan began to vent. "Your plan didn't work. D-daddy just decided to ignore me in the end." She went on. "A-and when he died he said my name, he begged me to save him and then I-I had this strange feeling."

Junko's voice then hummed in Mikan's ear. Her boiling breath was gentle and warm and just like the sun in a snowstorm, it melted every little bit of Mikans of well earnt fatigue.

"What kind of feeling was it?"

"It was a pleasure. I-I felt good. I even felt happy, even though he's dead now..."

Before a seed of panic could begin to spread in Mikan's soul, the slight sound of Junko's voice once again quelled any flames of anxiety lit within her and the words that were delivered with that voice, finally Settled the mental storm brewing within Mikan.

"You're just like me Mikan."

That was it. She was just like her beloved. It made so much sense now and with that everything was right again. Suddenly the frail girl broke free of the others hug just to turn around and dive into the cushiony breasts of her beloved and just like that she let it all out.

"Merry Christmas my little Mikan." Junko made one last whisper.

"Now get on the floor. I wanna hear you squeal like a pig again. Dont forget to strip down nude this time you little shit."

"Of course." Mikan faintly mutterd and soon did. She diddnt like it, but if it was what her beloved wanted hee to do. If it made hee beloved happy, then she was more than willing to do anything for her.

***

Hajime.

A skinny girl, dressed in a smart yet tattered nursing uniform stood anxiously outside a holiday cabin. This girl was no ordinary girl though as in the last few hours she had mercilessly murdered two of her own classmates. The girl felt no grief, no regret, nor remorse as she felt nothing but joy when being the last reflection of someone's eye before it was darkened forever. Ibuki and Hyoko were really nice friends and they just had to be her next victims to help relieve herself, as well as in helping along Junoko's killing game but for some reason, instead of covering up her tracks, her instincts brought her here. To her neighbor's beach cabin who was coincidentally investigating her crime.

It was a dumb move in the persective of a killer to randomly show themselves up to the detective but to Mikan; it was something she had to do. As expected, the door was open and just by opening the door the girl could see the boy she was looking for completely conked out on his bed. Being the ultimate nurse she could instantly tell that hajime was sleeping on the investigation due to obvious stress but despite that she couldn't help herself and without a second thought the girl dug under the boys covers and gently squeezed the slumbering life saviour to her core. Just like last time in the hospital, her hunch was correct. Hajime was just as warm, soft and comforting as her beloved.

She held the boy tight and as the emotions that came with the memories of her last Christmas came back to haunt her, she held tighter and tighter. The raging battle inside her soul was back. The truce of those emotions was not going to last forever. The fight between love and pleasure. What was more important to her? Seeing her friends free themselves from her beloved's killing game and live out the rest of their lives together? Or was it making sure that she was the last face, the last person, the last thought everyone would have minds before they finally die and witnessing all their anguish and hatred for herself? The attention she always craved was so close in her reach but the accursed emotion of guilt she thought she had repealed long ago was getting in the way again.

She then came to an ultimatum And whispered in hajimes ear

"Hajime. I did it."

...

...

He was still asleep.

With her internal struggle more or less settled, the girl squeezed the boy one last time and slept peacefully beside her second yet brief love.

Art credit:

Picture made by 'lil Mikan.' https://www.pixiv.net/en/users/1118770/manga

[sassysnowperson]

That last prompt was amazing!!! If you're still accepting prompts, could you do "... I just found out you're gay/bi/pan..." With Baze and Chirrut?? 😃

So this is from a while ago, so thanks for letting me save it for when I wanted another break from long-form stuff! (Though, this is still fairly long. There’s a readmore, of course)

Read it on Ao3

“What are we?” Chirut asked his class.

“Smart and strong!” the nine children answered.

“What else are we?”

“Safe and Healthy!”

“Aaaaand?”

There was an intake of breath and a moment of silence, before nine children bellowed as loud as they could, “POWERFUUUUUUUUUUULLLL!”

“Yes we are! Very good work everyone, I’ll see you next week.” Chirrut bowed to the class, heard the rustle of the clothes as they bowed back. Then the class dissolved into chatter as they moved towards the small gate that separated the sparring space from the observation area.

Chirrut made his way over to the half-wall separating the room to where he heard a man, slightly larger than him, clear his throat. He moved through the sounds of the space toward the familiar creosote cologne. “Ben! Good to see you.”

Chirrut flashed a grin he had heard described as “shit-eating” in Ben’s direction.

Ben gave the obligatory groan. “Good to see you too.”

“I’m glad you were able to come by. Luke’s doing beautifully.” Chirrut tilted his head over to where he heard Luke chattering, excited, with Jyn and Bodhi.

“Yes, yes, you were right. It’s good to see him happy. And making friends. I still wince every time he spars, though.”

“He lost a hand, Ben, he didn’t become an invalid. When you have a disability the whole world tells you you’ve lost something irreplaceable, and now you’re helpless. Sparring helps him feel strong again. Besides, did you see the way he broke through Bodhi’s defense? He’s a top-rate fighter, one arm or two.”

“You don’t need to lecture me, I know.” Ben sighed. “I know. But you’ll have to excuse me if it doesn’t feel just a little unusual to cheer for a one-armed child fighting another child in a wheelchair. It’s a bit of a paradigm shift.”

Chirrut chuckled, “Taught by a blind teacher and cheered on by their deaf best friend. It’s the entire point of what I’m trying to do here, Ben.”

“And I’m grateful we met and I had the chance to find out about it.” Ben’s patted the top of Chirrut’s forearm.

Chirrut brought his other hand over and covered Ben’s hand. “Speaking of how we met...you know, Ben, if Luke is at his aunt and uncle’s tonight…” Chirrut pitched his voice low, subtly running his thumb over Ben’s knuckles and leaning closer.

Ben made a disapproving noise and pulled his hand back. Even quieter than Chirrut, he responded, “I told you, I’m not sleeping with you while you’re teaching Luke. That’s just a disaster waiting to happen.”

“That’s your rule. I never agreed to it.” Chirrut grinned up at Ben, but nevertheless leaned out of his heat.

“Besides, Chirrut, you are a very good lay—”

“You know it.”

“—But I’m ready to settle. And as much fun as we’ve had, I’m never going to be the one who gets you to settle down.”

Chirrut smoothed his face out to an impassive slate. “It is important to reasonably assess your abilities and know what is or isn’t safe for you to do,” he intoned

“That sounds like something you tell your kids.”

Chirrut felt cheer crinkling at the corners of his eyes again. “It is.”

“Don’t take it as a slight. You’re far from my worst partner. That would be the one that got himself locked up and left me with shared custody of his child.”

“Ben, you have had the shittiest luck with men.”

“Tell me about it. Well. I did alright with you. You’re just in love with your straight roommate. Not nearly so bad by comparison.”

Chirrut thought he did a fairly good job hiding his recoil as he tried very hard not to think about Baze. He opened his mouth to brush off the comment but before he could clumsy footsteps ran over and a bright voice started saying, “Uncle Ben! Mr. Erso says that he works in a science lab and if we want to we can tour it! Can we go?”

Chirrut gave a small wave as Ben was pulled away, and started setting up the room for his six o’clock class.

Chirrut let out a filthy moan as he entered the apartment and the scent of ginger and scallions and lemongrass filled his nose. He made his way over to the kitchen where the aroma originated, something sizzling in a wok, low base notes of Baze’s humming underpinning the scene.

He walked over to where Baze was cooking, reaching out with a hand and brushing Baze’s elbow, using that as a guide to pull himself in and up on his toes, resting his chin on Baze’s shoulder. “Smells amazing. You spoil me.”

Chirrut felt the grunt vibrate in Baze’s chest. “Who says it’s for you? Get your own food.”

“You’re making enough for two.” Chirrut reached from behind to get at the pan only to have Baze swat his hand out of the way.

“Go set the table.” Baze grumbled, which was as good as an admission. “No, wait, go shower. You reek.”

“Good to see you too.” Chirrut snapped back, going off to the bathroom regardless.

As he soaped up under the spray Chirrut did not think about Baze’s broad back and strong arms and the way he perpetually smelled like machine oil mixed with something sharp and fresh and green. He had been friends with Baze since before he could remember, lived with him as soon as the both of them had enough money to get a place of their own.

Much of their relationship worked because Chirrut didn’t think about Baze. Baze, who cooked and cleaned and didn’t leave things in the walkways and belly laughed at Chirrut’s dumb jokes. Baze, who was kind and supportive and knew the names of every one of Chirrut’s kids. Baze, who had been the standard that every guy in Chirrut’s life had failed to live up to. Who was, tragically, very, very straight.

Chirrut got out of the shower, not thinking about Baze. He slipped into the most comfortable pajamas he had and went out and ate dinner with his best friend.

Baze was upstate for some union meeting, and Chirrut had been left to his own devices. Chirrut always felt like he spun out a little whenever Baze was out of town on a business trip. Baze kept him grounded, kept him making healthier decisions. Chirrut picked up a box of takeout food and a young man; he enjoyed both to a degree of excess he wouldn’t have if Baze were in the apartment.

Sending the night’s distraction on his way with an affectionate kiss, Chirrut opened a bottle of wine and settled in for a some lazy listening to the local news.

“We’re here with the head of the Local Sheet Metal Worker’s 601, Baze Malbus. Baze, we understand your union is preparing to march with protesters to put pressure on congress to support legislation banning employment discrimination for LGBTQ workers.”

Chirrut quickly set down the wine and leaned toward the television. Baze hadn’t told him this was a LGBTQ protest. He should have invited Chirrut—Baze’s gay best friend—along. Chirrut would have happily worn his hotpants. Reliable witnesses informed him he was very attention-getting in them.

Baze’s familiar deep voice responded, using a tone Chirrut thought of as his I’m-Still-Not-Sure-How-I-Ended-Up-In-A-Leadership-Position-But-I’m-Doing-My-Best tone of voice. “We’re pleased to join with the long history of labor unions pushing for LGBTQ rights. People shouldn’t be able to be fired for who they choose to love, and the Local Sheet Metal Worker’s 601 is proud to support that.”

Chirrut felt a happy warmth rise in his chest. Baze was non-political by nature, but when he committed, he committed deeply.

The interviewer gave a little chuckle, “It’s not a matter that has much professional relevance to you, though. I can’t imagine too many gay men go into metal-working.”

Baze was quiet for a moment. Chirrut leaned in more, grinning. Baze was going to tear this reporter to shreds.

“You have made a number of assumptions that I find deeply ignorant. First, neither our union nor our profession are exclusive to men, we have a number of passionate active woman and your statement disregards them.”

The reporter made to pull the microphone away.

“I have not finished. Second, the fight for employment equality is important regardless of whether or not someone personally knows someone who is affected.”

“Of course, I didn’t mean to insinuate—”

“And lastly, I can’t speak for any of my peers, but this legislation does impact me personally, as well as professionally. Though, I prefer the label bisexual. Good day.”

Chirrut stared at the television for a good five minutes before he became aware the interview had moved on. He turned off the television with an angry jab, stood up and began pacing about the apartment, trying to think.

On one hand, Baze was fighting for a cause he believed in and shutting down reporters who made bigoted assumptions. Chirrut pivoted and started walking the other way. On the other hand if Baze Malbus was at all attracted to men, Chirrut would be the one to know.

Baze had lied. On television. Why? To make a point?

But it didn’t sound like Baze had been lying. Chirrut was no magical blind human lie detector but he knew his best friend. Chirrut kicked out into the open air, frustrated and confused. He knew his best friend, and his best friend was straight. From age five, when the two of them had met in Taekwondo class, Baze had only ever had been with women. Had only ever been with three women, as a matter of fact. Two of those relationships lasted years. Chirrut would have known if a guy had caught Baze’s eye. Chirrut would have known if he could have ever had a chance.

And that’s what hurt the worst. Chirrut had loved Baze since he was five years old and the Baze had taken him at his word and punched him as hard as he could, not going easy on Chirrut just because he was blind. Had loved him from a distance, because Baze had never once shown a smidgen of interest. So Baze, whether his little ‘Bisexual’ comment was true or false, had made a mockery of everything Chirrut had felt for him.

Chirrut had almost two days to figure out what to say to Baze, when Baze got back home. He had crafted and disregarded what felt like thousands of scripts, ranging from silly to serious to furious. In the end, words weren’t Chirrut’s strong suite. Action was.

As he heard the front door open and close and the Baze’s heavy footfalls through the room he almost reconsidered his course of action.

Baze paused, his movement after that was softer, bare feet, not in boots. The creak of the kitchen floorboard, liquid filling into a mug.

No, too late to reconsider. There was no graceful way out of this, after all. Besides, it should answer some questions.

Baze’s steps carried him over to his bedroom door.

Chirrut arranged himself, naked as the day he was born, a little more provocatively across Baze’s bed, propped up on one arm, grinning at the door.

He didn’t admit that the grin was mostly to hide the nerves.

The door opened, and Baze didn’t seem to notice anything for a long few seconds. He tossed his keys on the dresser, took a sip from the mug...and then promptly started coughing. Chirrut felt some small beads of liquid hit him.

“Chirrut! What the hell are you doing?”

“Welcoming you home! I saw your interview. Heard you would appreciate the view.”

Baze groaned. “Of course you would catch that.”

Chirrut wiggled. “So...what do you think?”

Baze took a slow breath in from his nose, and exhaled in a heavy huff. “I think you’re being ridiculous. Put some clothes on.”

Chirrut shoved himself up to sitting. “So it was a lie, then!”

“It wasn’t a lie!” Baze snapped. “Just because I am attracted to men doesn’t mean I want you naked on my bed!”

“I’m your best friend, Baze! How did I not know this?” Chirrut stood up from the bed.

“Maybe because I knew you’d turn everything into a come-on! I don’t want that.” Chirrut heard the sound of Baze setting the mug down, a clatter as hit hard onto the dresser.

“I thought you were better than that sort of stereotyping.” Chirrut stalked toward Baze.

“For the love of—It’s not a stereotype! I just know you! You flirt as naturally as breathing and I can barely handle it now, if it got worse I would—”

“You would what!” Chirrut landed in front of Baze and poked hard at his chest. “Because if the answer is anything other than, ‘Politely ask you to stop making me uncomfortable and watch as I respect your boundaries,’ you aren’t the man I thought you were.”

“Well then I’m not,” Baze’s huge hands landed on Chirrut’s hips, holding him in place. Baze’s voice went low and rough, “because the answer is I would take you to bed and spend the rest of my life regretting it.”

“I’ll have you know I’m a very good lay.” Chirrut said, mostly on instinct, as Baze’s thumbs, running slowly over his hipbones had knocked out all of his higher processing.

“I’m sure the sex would be fine.” Baze sounded sad. “But it might kill me to be one in your stable of lovers. I’d spend the rest of my life hating every other person you bedded. And I know that’s selfish, which is why I have very carefully been avoiding the topic. So please,” Baze took his hands off Chirrut and stepped back, “put some clothes on.”

“You want me.” Chirrut was frozen, turning the idea over in his head. “How long?”

Baze’s hand thudded against his forehead. “That’s what you get out of this? I—fine. Ages. The first…” Baze swallowed, voice sticking in his throat. “...the first time I saw you teach. You were so patient with the kids, so bright, so clearly doing exactly what you loved. You were beautiful. Still are. That’s not the issue.”

“Seriously? I’ve rubbed up against you while skinny-dipping and that wasn’t enough? I had to teach a class of seven-year-olds?”

“It’s always been emotional, for me. No attraction without the emotion first. Chirrut, you come alive while teaching. It was watching you teach that I knew who you were enough to know that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Chirrut groaned. “And then we went out to a bar to celebrate the opening of the studio and I took that redhead home.”

Baze shifted back and forth. “Yeah.”

“You’ve never had a problem with my lovers. You made them breakfast.”

Baze sighed, “You’re happy. It’s what you wanted. And as long as I could tell myself that I was the one you stayed with, that was enough for me. It still is enough for me. So, you’re going to get out of my room, put some clothes on, and we’re both going to pretend this didn’t happen.”

“I can’t do that.”

Baze walked over to the bed and sat down hard on it, springs squeaking. His fingers slid into his hair as he rested his head in his hands. “Fuck. I can’t lose you.”

Chirrut walked over and put his hands on the top of Baze’s head, a sort-of benediction. “And I refuse to lose you, too. So, you want to sleep with me, but you don’t want me to sleep with anyone else.”

Baze gave a broken laugh. “Yeah, that’s about the sum of it.”

“Alright, I won’t.”

Chirrut’s fingers slid as Baze looked up, his hands settling again on either side of Baze’s face. Chirrut had no doubt that Baze was scouring his face, looking for more clues.

Chirrut just hoped that Baze knew his sincerity as well as he knew Baze’s. “Commitment, right? Exclusivity? It’s yours.”

“You have never offered that to anyone,” Baze said, careful.

“None of them were you,” Chirrut said, plain.

He felt the shudder go through Baze. Baze’s hands settled around the backs of Chirrut’s legs. Chirrut traced his fingers along Baze’s cheekbone.

“Baze, I’ve loved you since I was five years old. You’ve been the standard none of my lovers could meet. I fall in love with the pieces of you I find in other people.”

Baze tipped his head forward, resting his forehead against Chirrut’s belly. “God.”

“No, just Chirrut.”

After a second Baze’s shoulders convulsed. “You’re terrible. I love you too.”

Chirrut’s long experience with martial arts let him know that the sensation he was feeling now was not-at-all unlike being punched in the stomach.

He felt Baze’s head tip back again. “Are you sure?” Baze asked.

“As I’ve ever been,” Chirrut answered.

“Well then.” Baze’s hands tightened around the backs of Chirrut’s legs and he stood up, lifting Chirrut effortlessly before tossing him down on the bed. Baze pinned him to the bed with a knee, rustle of cloth before Baze’s shirt settled next to Chirrut. “I’ve got a naked man on my bed. Guess I should figure out what to do with that.”

Chirrut grinned up in pure delight. “I have some ideas.”