#he was just some younger guy and suddenly everyone is like: please sign this poster

[skitskatdacat63]

ok catie first of all i am crying at the image in my head of nosferatu live. that is actually the Greatest Thing i've ever heard. i'm so jealous but now i have a new bucketlist item. and also. its a wonderful life was my other oldest too. and now im gonna go cry. ok bye

That was truly the Movie Experience of All Time, seriously, like it was just so random but perfect, and so incredibly funny

Basically, there's this historic theater near me that does old movies. They also happen to have an organ, well okay, that's cool I guess! And then they announce "Nosferatu with live organ accompaniment" I HAVE TO GO! Not to wax poetic but it was very sweet to me because I'm pretty sure they mentioned that this was the first time an event like that was completely sold out? It's just very sweet to imagine all those other people reading about it and being like me and going "Nosferatu live organ?? I gotta see this!" The organ in question:

[svchengss]

king of hearts | d.sc

PAIRING. dong sicheng x reader

GENRE. high school!au, fluff, slight angst, kind of e2l

WARNINGS. none (lmk if i missed any!)

WORD COUNT. 6.7k

SUMMARY. sicheng’s subtle flirts are not working effectively but it only motivates him to try and woo you more. the devil sure works hard but dong sicheng works harder.

PLAYLIST. king of hearts

TAGLIST. @floraljae @clovdless @mashiihearts @ndr1271 @kunrengui (shoutout to mashi for being a major help in the process of writing this <3)

// just to let you guys know, reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !! thank you for reading :D

music was blaring through the multiple loudspeakers scattered around the school grounds, booths of various interests that were set-up by the clubs being swarmed by visitors and ecstatic oohs and aahs from the ones playing games can be heard intermittently. the annual school festival of redlands high, an event that is looked forward to by every single student there. or maybe not, you’re quite unsure of the self-made data.

you immediately made a beeline to the dance club booth which is managed by yangyang, the president also holding the title of your best friend. a cartoonish grin crept up on his face when he spots you walking towards him.

“so, what do you think? looks legit, huh?” he crossed his arms together, observing the design of the booth with a proud smile. the set-up is definitely eye-catching, not much decorations going on, adding to the simplicity of the white theme with gold touch-ups. you browsed through the plastered posters on the board, inviting people to sign up for their upcoming audition. looking up to the signboard hanging outside, you showed a thumbs up towards him, muttering a quick ‘perfect’.

“so what exactly is your booth doing? there’s not much… activity going on?” you scratched the non-existent itch on your left eyebrow. the boy in front of you gave you an eye roll before explaining that there will be mini dance games - or just dance as he worded. an amused sound left your lips as you bent down, dropping your signature in the guestbook on the wooden table.

“are you coming to the stage shows tonight? i heard there’s a new band performing,” your ears perked up instinctively upon hearing the words. after your sister graduated high school, nobody paid any attention to keep the band going. the zikas, a trio that made the music club strive back then. either the newer batches were too lazy to make an effort or too scared if they weren’t up to the already high standards of the school.

“i’m going if you’re going,” you simply stated, which made yangyang flash you the same grin from before. you said your simple goodbyes when people started lining up to try the just dance game at his booth. after he reminded you to wait for him by the statue, you went off to check out the food sales, eager to fill your growling stomach since this morning.

you can do this, sicheng. you can do this.

he made sure to double check the tuning of his guitar for one last time before joining the rest of his bandmates on the stage. his tall and slim physique surely left an impact, seeing that some of the audience suddenly became more invested in the performance compared to the others. he’s wearing some band’s shirt - probably green day since it’s quite similar to your sister’s posters in her room, black leather jacket and his black hair middle parted. not to miss the silver pendant necklace on his neck, sparkling under the spotlight.

the moment he struck the pick through the strings of his electric guitar, the drummer and bassist followed after, producing a melody that is pleasing to your ears. he held the microphone closer to his mouth, singing the lyrics as you bobbed your head up and down to the covers they sang - american idiot and helena are the ones you recognized since you’ve heard the songs so often. yangyang on the other hand kept on sipping the chocolate milkshake in his hand, vibing with the music as well.

the next song was a sentimental one which you assumed is a self-composed one, since you’ve never heard this song before. before you know it, the performance is over and the audience have started packing up their belongings to hang out somewhere else or go home.

“good job everyone, we did well,” yuta, who played the bass earlier, high-fived the rest of the band with a sly grin on his face. guanheng chugged the mineral water down his throat before stashing his drumsticks into the bag while sicheng was lost in his thoughts. he doesn’t know why but you stood out from the crowd, only able to see you just now. he wouldn’t say it’s a crush, not knowing anything about you but it definitely made him feel something. a trigger in his heart, not knowing where it leads to. but what he does know is that you caught his attention.

“and you know what he said? i’ll come back crawling to him just like his other exes. what the heck is even that?” you took out the binders from your locker while listening to ningning rant about her love life. since you haven’t had any relationships before, you’re not really a professional in this aspect of life so you just kept your mouth shut to avoid giving useless advice.

“that sounds so rude, he’s such a jerk,” you commented, taking the first bite of your sandwich afterwards. the tea-spilling session eventually came to an end when she reached her class first and you kept walking to mrs. walker’s, english being your first period. nothing exciting really happened in that class except someone got their phone confiscated for texting in class - just the usual things. classes later, it’s finally recess when you met up with ningning and yangyang in the cafeteria.

“first of all, cut him off. block him. everywhere,” yangyang emphasized the last word, knowing how much of an idiot the guy can be. you just scrolled through your socials, double tapping on certain posts that caught your eye. owning a cat looks fun, you made a mental note to bring the idea to your parents later. the bell rang which signals that classes are starting back soon and the same cycle of events continues before it’s time to go home.

you observed yangyang’s sharp moves, following to the beat of the song echoing in the dance room. it’s currently half past seven and he’s still here, beads of sweat running through his hair. and why would he stay in school so late, you may ask? obviously, he’s here for a reason and it being an upcoming dance tournament is the most accurate one. while you’re here, sitting on the floor, back against the mirror and legs straightened out with your phone in your hand. it amazes you how the goofy boy transforms 360°, being all serious when he’s in his element.

“let’s go home, i’m tired already,” he panted out breathlessly, using a cloth nearby to wipe his sweaty forehead. you wait for him by the glass door as he packs up his things when the lights in the music studio also switched off. you wondered it must be the band guys so you paid no attention whatsoever. of course, your predictions were right when you saw two lads stepping out.

since yangyang is taking too much time tidying up the dance studio and the music studio seems unoccupied, you decided to check it out for a bit. it’s been a long time since you last entered the room, always accompanying your sister for her extra practice when you were younger. not much has changed, except some additions of instruments can be seen. not seeing anything in the dark condition as the room is only illuminated by the faint lights from the hallway, you pushed the switches down only to be met by a gasp.

“what are you doing here?” the tall boy approached you, a stern look visible on his fine features. your eyes scrambled around the room in an attempt to find any logical excuses for your ‘break-in’ but to no avail. your tongue was dry, not a sound escaping your throat when you heard yangyang’s voice, signalling your cue to exit the room and escape from the tension building between you and the boy. he just shook his head, the black hair bouncing left to right as he finally caught on.

it’s you, you’re the girl from the crowd. and your name is y/n.

the walk home was filled with one-sided conversations where yangyang kept on babbling about how he should improve the choreography he created earlier while you only added small comments. your mind is filled with embarrassment, too much that you feel slightly mad at yourself. why didn’t you say anything earlier? now, you look like a complete idiot with communication issues in front of that boy.

“yeah, and remember that pasta? we should definitely try it again, it’s like, so good,” yangyang said, earning a nod from you when you saw the boy from last night’s music studio tragedy approaching your table. you tried to look away but it was too late.

“dude, just wanna let you know that mr. park is seeing us after school,” your grip on your fork loosens up when you realized he wasn’t talking to you. maybe he forgot about the incident? you really hope so.

“yeah, totally. thanks sicheng,” yangyang playfully winked at the latter, earning a disgusted look from him who started walking away. he glanced back at you with a smug smile on his plump lips, making you freeze up again.

he didn’t.

“are you okay, y/n? feeling sick?” ningning furrowed her eyebrows upon seeing your sudden change of demeanor. you shrugged her off and continued to consume the macaroni placed on the tray in front of you, mentally cursing at yourself for the poor life choice you’d made. well, at least you know that his name is sicheng, right?

oh boy, you’re in for a long ride.

you can’t wait to go home and snuggle under the covers, today has been a long and tiring one for you. you had three pop quizzes as if all the three teachers intended so, your class had to run multiple laps during p.e. and so on. you’re already planning your routine in your head, trudging your way to the lockers when you saw him leaning against yours, scrolling down his phone.

“crap,” you muttered under your breath.

there it is, the smirk on his face returns when he spots your figure approaching. oh, how you wish you could wipe it off his face. he moved a couple steps backwards to give you some space to arrange your things before locking it, turning your head towards him.

“i’m sorry, why are you here again? and if it’s because of last night, then i’m sorry if it bothered you or anything,” you huffed out.

“what? i didn’t really care, it’s not like you were stealing anything, right?” he squinted his eyes, eyeing you up and down suspiciously, laughing shortly after seeing you get riled up.

“damn, you really need to learn how to take a joke. y/n, right? i’m sicheng, nice to meet you.”

“why exactly are we having this meet-and-greet or whatever this introduction is?” you crossed your arms, waiting for his response. but he didn’t, immediately turning on his heels and making his way towards the stairs, probably going to the studio.

“jerk,” you cursed under your breath, walking out the school building.

“what? you got accepted? seriously?” ningning’s voice echoed against the cafeteria walls, earning surprised and annoyed glances from other students who were either satisfying their grumbling stomach or simply having conversations. yangyang softly nudged her elbows using his, asking her to lower her voice down before telling you to go on. you were quite surprised as well, the acceptance email was not what you expected to receive. when you filled in the application form, it was just a mere shoot-your-shot agenda to see if you’d make the cut. although this is just a camp, you’re still unsure of what lies ahead.

“yeah, it starts next week. but i’m so nervous though,” you sipped the iced coffee in your hands. you’ve only watched videos of people producing their own music from scratch which you start to take an interest in. however, you’ve never done it hands-on before, only having basic music theory knowledge thanks to the piano lessons your parents signed you up for when you were young.

“you’ll do awesome, i promise,” yangyang gave you a reassuring smile, making you release some tension from the overthinking you’ve had since you received the email last night.

“thanks yang.”

now, here you are on the first day of attending the internship camp. you stood in front of the tall mirror hanging on the wall, straightening your cardigan and applying some makeup onto your face as touch-ups. it’s currently 7:40 in the morning, the earliest time you’ve ever woken up on a saturday. your siblings are still swallowed in their states of sleep. you double-checked the contents in your tote bag, making sure that no important things are left behind. you totally don’t intend on leaving a bad first impression on your first day.

after bidding a swift goodbye to your parents who just woke up, you drove your mother’s old honda to the completely new destination - mbyte studios. the tall building with light grey and blue painted walls definitely made it stand out, a futuristic look catching the eyes of the passersby. taking a deep breath, you entered the main lobby before being escorted to a room on the second floor. you assume it’s a waiting room for all participants of the camp, scanning that majority of the occupiers might be college students. you thanked god that the camp takes place on weekends so your high school senior life won’t be interrupted that much.

DAY 1

your eyes widened when you spot sicheng with the same white and blue tag you’re wearing, seated on the sofa. what the hell is he doing here? you avoided acknowledging his presence, trying to make yourself as unnoticed as possible heading over to occupy the seat farthest from his. after quite some time staring at the paintings hanging on the wall, a middle-aged lady with a petite figure entered the room, making you sit up straight.

“welcome to mbyte studios! i’m the assistant director, mrs. hwang. first and foremost, congratulations on being accepted. it’ a pleasure to witness the start of your musical journey embarking here. i believe that we should know each other first?” she gestured for any volunteers. sicheng stood up from his seat, charisma evident in his stance which left quite an impression on the others. the strong confidence in the way he speaks made the woman smile amusingly.

some names later, it was your turn to introduce yourself. the moment you stood up, he immediately recognized you and you were sure you caught him making some faces. the ice-breaking session went well thankfully, mrs. hwang elaborating on the social rules and the itinerary throughout the whole six days. one that caught your attention was assisting the producers on making a track from scratch, just like you had dreamed of.

when it was finally time for lunch break, you shot up from your seat to get away from sicheng as fast as possible but to your dismay, he beat you to it, jogging up towards your standing position.

“i didn’t know you were into music, what’s the sudden occasion?”

“it’s none of your business actually,” you sneered back, obviously not favouring his attention.

“woah, relax. you’ve got quite a temper, don’t you? by the way, we’re having lunch together,” he placed his phone onto a nearby table, pulling a chair for you.

“just eat on your own, i don’t have the appetite,” you flash a sarcastic grin before disappearing into the women’s restroom. he just laughed bitterly at your response before walking towards the food counter, joining his newly made friend, jaehyun. being the same age, they’re easy to click.

DAY 2

“today, we’ll be focusing on the recording process. you’ll be assigned into groups that will have a tour of the whole department. our staff will facilitate each group,” the manager said loud and clear. you remembered his name was johnny. the tattoo on his shoulder really stands out, considering the fact that he’s always wearing a sleeveless shirt.

but what are the odds when your groupmate is none other than the guy himself, sicheng. it’s like the universe truly resented you for having to be associated with him at any event. your group was escorted to the farthest recording studio on the floor. to say that this was a great experience is truly an understatement, making you observe the gears used in astonishment. you hate to admit it but sicheng has a handful of knowledge on this particular topic, always correctly answering the questions directed by the staff. maybe it wasn’t quite surprising upon knowing that his career choice is a singer, not that you care anyways.

again, nothing out of the ordinary happened today, except that you and sicheng had lunch on the same table. of course, it’s not that you accepted his offer but he welcomed himself to the spot. being the quickly favoured participant among the rest, obviously they welcomed him with open hands. he placed himself among the two guys sitting at the right corner, eyeing you whose eyes are still not leaving the article you were skimming through. with the last spoon of food shoved into your mouth, you quietly excused yourself from the group. sicheng just watched your movements in subtle signs of annoyance.

with the final task of doing microphone check-ups, day two of the camp ended with a breeze. you can’t wait to go home, get into a warm bath and spend the night watching netflix. it was a tiring one indeed but you’re not one to complain. pushing the car keys into the ignition slot, the sound of the engine starting is still nowhere to be heard even after a couple of retries. you rested your forehead onto the steering wheel, cursing silently in your head, having to get a taxi and call your mother about this incident. you’re sure to be receiving a handful from her, not to mention her soft but stingful remarks.

“hey, are you okay?” a deep voice interrupts your stressful state of mind. looking up, it’s sicheng with a concerned look on display. you hesitantly shared your problem, making him press his lips together probably thinking of a solution.

“you know, i don’t really know how to fix your broken engine or whatever but i know someone who can. let me just ring him for a sec. and you’re coming home with me.”

and that’s how you ended up in the front passenger seat, sicheng steering with one hand and the other rested on the windowsill. the faint music from the radio can be heard, probably a song by jon vinyl. you’d steal quick glances to see his other hand dancing in the air, enjoying the rhythm of the song playing. besides that, it was silent as both of you are preoccupied with your own things - sicheng on the road while you on your phone. he tried to make small talk but you would say it’s unrequited, only replying with short sentences. after a good ten minutes drive, the sight of your brown painted gate becomes a sign for him to stop the moving car.

“your car is safe with my friend so you shouldn’t worry about it or anything. also, what’s your number? it’ll be easier for, you know the car business of course,” he reached over to unbuckle your seatbelt, handing over his phone to you after. the close proximity made your breath hitch, the dewy scent of his perfume diffusing into your nose. not too strong, he has a good taste.

“thanks and um, i’ll buy you a drink later. just for today.”

“are you asking me on a date?” there it is, the significant tug on the side of his lips making its presence once again.

“stop being so narcissistic and move along please,” you rolled your eyes before giving him a small wave, stepping into your property. sicheng stared at the numerals on his phone screen, a small, proud grin etched on before driving off the lane.

“how was the camp? met any cute boys?” the first thing you hear in the hue of the blue monday morning is ningning’s chirpy voice. sometimes you wonder how she gets all boosted up at this hour of the day. yangyang is the polar opposite, his appearance as if he just got out of bed, the hood of his denim jacket resting on top of his auburn hair.

“it was good and no, no cute boys. but sicheng was there,” you replied nonchalantly, a mischievous grin crept onto her lips. you can almost predict the words that are going to spill out of her mouth.

“what’s up with her?” yangyang yawned, his eyes lazily gaze at you. you just lifted your shoulders, having no idea whatsoever. a ping sound was heard from your phone, notifying that a new message is received.

unknown: hey sicheng here

unknown: ur car may be ready tmr. want me to drive u there?

listening to your heart, you were about to type ‘no’ but remembering the fact that your parents will be busy the whole day tomorrow and yangyang is coming home late once again, you have no choice but to accept the lad’s help.

now you’re back in his vehicle, the same spot as before. you’ve only noticed now that a musical note charm is hung on the rearview mirror, a semiquaver to be exact. you’d say that it looks authentic, gold specks shining when sun rays hit the surface. observing the interior of his car, there are quite a number of small decorations.

“can we get coffee first? my treat for the car and the ride,” you suggested, looking at him whose eyes are focused onto the road. the traffic is quite pleasing today, nobody honking mindlessly at the other drivers and flipping each other off with the famous middle finger gesture. his side profile does look charming, some type of earrings dangling from his ears. if you’re going to be honest, his appearance does seem to be your type. you’re not one to say about his persona though, always managing to bother you at any time of the day.

“sure, wanna go to the new cafe? i heard it’s good,”. you just nodded while he skillfully steered the steering wheel, moving the car to the new destination. you turned your eyes to look outside from the car window, seeing the one hundred and one manners of the citizens. a mother struggling to take her child who’s having a tantrum out of the toy shop, a young couple having their romantic meal in the french cafe. the motion of the car stopping awakened you who was being distracted by your clouded mind.

from the moment you stepped into the place, the interior caught your attention. the light brown painted walls with black furniture complementing each other perfectly, making a retro-like appearance. the funky song playing faintly in the background surely is a mood-setter, just how you like it. even the barista serving you is being friendly, making a couple of small talk in the midst of operating the machines.

you would say that it was a pleasureful day for you. the exquisite taste of latte washing down your dry throat, getting your car back without too much babbling from your dear mother and the gap between you and sicheng closing in for a little.

the last sentence baffled you for a second.

DAY 3

sicheng’s eyes shot open from the short slumber he was trying to get - failing miserably even, upon spotting you enter through the door. he pulled the chair beside him in hopes for you to get his message and take the seat. a frown made its way onto his face when you just waved at him, making your way to another spot a few chairs to the front. he scoffed, head tilting slightly before approaching you instead. you shot him a puzzled look, roughly translating to ask him what he’s doing here.

“i just want to be close to you. now focus,” he redirected his eyes onto the muscular man who just entered the room. he’s a songwriter - the best one in this company to be exact. you were focused on each point he explained, making small notes on your laptop. it’s not always that you’ll get a chance to be guided by a four-time award winning songwriter, might as well gain some benefits from it.

“another tip i have is to use all types of chords. remember, do not stick to the same ones, you’ll lack creativity. for instance, use major, minor, dominant, diminished, and augmented. i promise you, more ideas will be flowing and better quality songs will be produced. you got me?” the questioned, earning buzzing sounds of positive responses from the hall.

DAY 4

another day of group work, you’re given the task to create a melody according to the themes given - for your group, it’s love. looking at sicheng, he’s already on his electric guitar, strumming mindlessly to find the perfect note to start on. the rest of you are now juicing out some thoughts on this particular sense of human nature.

“love gives us thrill, the feeling of excitement, the feeling when you’re uncertain about something but when you have that special someone with you, you’re sure to wing it all,” jaehyun suggests, earning nods of approval from the rest of your groupmates.

“you’re a pro at this, mr. romantic,” you teased him, earning a soft chuckle. a dimpled smile is etched onto his features, rosy cheeks and his eye smile making you fawn. prince-like visual and a sense of humour? a two in one package, totally.

“not really. i guess i’m a sucker for romance movies,” he rubbed the back of his neck. your small conversation came to a halt when you heard a crooked, loud sound coming from the rough strum on the guitar strings. you turned around to see sicheng gazing directly towards the both of you, a sharp one even. jaehyun just blinked his eyes before catching onto the situation unfolding in front of him while you’re still being completely oblivious. you tilted your head in confusion, unsure of what’s gotten into him.

it’s the day that yangyang has been looking forward to since the past few weeks, his dance tournament. you’re seated with ningning on the bleachers, music from the loudspeakers echoing through the walls. with the cheers of the bewatchers whenever someone captivated them with a trick or dance move, usually the risky ones, it truly is a loud atmosphere.

“now, welcoming contestant number 43 to take the stage,” the host announced, you and ningning clapped with all your might, shouting words of encouragement as well. yangyang took a deep breath before lifting his right hand up, cueing for the music to start playing. just then, there’s the sound of someone plopping down on the hard surface next to you - sicheng. he’s looking casual today, a light yellow hoodie replacing his usual dark clothings.

“what are you doing here?” you shout whispered while ningning raised her eyebrows at you.

“didn’t yangyang tell you? i’m here to watch him dance,” he countered your question before darting his eyes back to the boy who’s busy popping on the dance floor, tinashe’s song playing in the background. he ended his routine with a moonwalk, making his way to the end of the stage. you’re confident that he’s going to win the competition, looking at how precise and clean his moves were. all the late night practices he had eventually paid off when he’s announced as the second placer. nonetheless, he’s still proud of himself, not to mention you and ningning who have been with him throughout his whole journey.

“you did well,” sicheng welcomed him with a fist bump which he reciprocated back. you didn’t know that they were this good of friends.

“i’m starving,” he rubbed his hand onto his stomach, making you remember that your stomach has been rumbling since you only ate a cereal bar that morning. you were about to catch up to yangyang and ningning who were walking fast ahead when you felt a tug on your shirt, looking down to see sicheng crouching down to tie your loose shoelaces.

“you might fall,” he placed his hands into the pockets of his hoodies, waiting for you to come along.

“um, thanks,” you muttered out before catching the glances given by your friends, later teasing you about the scene.

roars of students can be heard coherently, filling the basketball court. the basketball captain, a tall one with black charcoal hair is shooting a three-pointer. the players are then called over to their respective sides for whatever strategy their coaches will be implementing in the third-quarter. the home team is currently leading by five points, knowing that the players wearing the significant red and black jersey have been training their asses off for a while now.

but why exactly did you come to the game tonight? besides from the main event happening in the moment, the other reason is now standing in his position, strumming his electric guitar producing a funky sound that vibrates through the walls - a cue for the start of another buzzing stage. sicheng has been bugging you about watching him perform tonight and after quite some time evaluating, why not? when he finally caught you among the crowd, he flashed you a flirtatious wink. right before the band bowed as gratitude to the audience, he gave you a gesture to wait for him at the back of the gym.

“you came! but seriously, thank you,” he rested the sparkly white guitar against the wall, enveloping you into a hug. this is new, you tried to hide the flustered state of yours as you reciprocated his movement. from the corner of your eyes, you can see a black-haired guy approaching the two of you, followed by one with long, white hair and a bandana nicely keeping the fluffy strands in tact.

“ooh, who’s this?” the first one wiggled his eyebrows, later introducing himself as guanheng, the latter named yuta. to your surprise, the bond between you and them are quick to form with guanheng piloting the conversation. not to mention his subtle jokes making you giggle at times.

“well y/n, your little boyfriend here is getting jealous so we’ll excuse ourselves for now. see you whenever,” guanheng banging his drumsticks into the air while yuta gave you a quick wave before disappearing into the store room of the gymnasium. the nickname they gave sicheng surely made you a bit shy.

boyfriend?

DAY 5

you’re seated in front of the computer screen, your chin resting on the palm of your hands and the tabs of different colours left untouched. you redirected your gaze onto the projector screen, the words ‘arrange, mix, edit and master like a pro’ on it. a long sigh leaving your lips, you try to remember what the producer said earlier.

don’t make the song sound too repetitive

a good buildup promises a good melody

you can have a certain instrument playing only on one part for cinematic impact

DAY 6

“i’m hyo and you’re,” she moved the wheels of her chair to the back a bit to take another look at the clipboard resting on the desk, “sicheng, y/n and jaehyun, right?” the three of you nodded in harmony, anticipating for the next order that will be given.

“okay cool, we’ll be brainstorming first,” and she proceeded to explain what the requirements for this project are. you mouthed out the important points she gave, soft rock, heartbreak and drums. you’re on a roll today, contributing your countless ideas during the first few minutes of the discussion. sicheng just looked at you discussing with hyo, your lips pursed slightly. his gaze seems full of adoration, even jaehyun said so.

“any objections?” hyo looked over to the rest.

“i think she made some great ones. i’m sure this project will come out fresh,” jaehyun voiced out his opinions, sicheng nodding after. he went straight to handling the instruments , you and jaehyun collaborating for the mixing process. hyo eventually chimed in on some times, giving small advice whenever you seem stuck in the brain. with the hours ticking by, you’re feeling more satisfied than ever with your earphones in, listening to the final product created.

all of the participants are then assembled in the hall again, waiting for a final speech by the director which formalizes the end of the camp. sure, you’ve earned worthy knowledge throughout the six days. but if you’re being brutally true to the sound of your heart, it would be how you came to learn sicheng’s true antics. he might be the cocky guy who thinks they have the power to do anything but in truth, he’s just some guy with an honest heart, honest intentions to know you better.

summer break, your most anticipated event for the past few weeks. the moment the last bell rang, that scene in high school musical 2 kept replaying in the back of your head, the students doing a parade in front of the lockers picturing how your little heart is doing backflips in your chest right now. all the beach trips ningning planned is making you feel dizzy. you turned around to a voice calling out your name from the end of the hallway, your eyes catching the sight of sicheng jogging towards your spot. he stopped in front of you, hands on his knees catching his breath.

“are you free tomorrow night? there’s a party at guanheng’s and you know, it would be really cool if you join,” his fingers tracing onto each other, waiting patiently for your response.

you didn’t even have the time to process his invitation when ningning crashed her body against yours, yangyang following suit.

“a party? y/n would totally love to come, right?” ningning nudged your arms softly while yangyang tried to stifle a giggle. you were about to mouth out a ‘what?’ before sicheng cut you off.

“cool, you guys should come too. tomorrow at 10,” he and yangyang exchanged finger guns gestures before leaving the three of you. you just stood there in disbelief, eyeing them up and down before ningning dragged you to the parking lot. a stringful of grumbles escaped your lips, making the guy laugh obnoxiously.

“i can’t believe you guys did that,” you extended the seat belt, buckling it to the slot beside you.

“please. but you do want it, right?” you can’t deny, what she said was true. plus, you should have some fun and distress before having to go back to the usual dull routine of yours.

“how do i look?” you turn around, revealing the baby pink crop top and flare pants on your legs. it’s not your best outfit but giving the cliche excuse - you have nothing to wear, the two articles totally complements each other

“you look hot, that’s all i gotta say. right, yang?” ningning lifted her head from the headboard, glancing over at yangyang who’s going over his messages.

“yeah totally,” he lifted his hands, giving you a thumbs up. you threw a jacket onto your shoulders and grabbed the black purse on your dresser, glancing at the wall mirror one last time.

from the moment you stepped into the venue - guanheng’s place, smells of alcohol lingered around your nose, a group of people cheering ever so loudly over a game of beer pong, some already passed out on the couch. not to mention a brownish stain on the carpet - probably from someone throwing up. the mess would take a whole day to get rid off, you note to yourself. your friends are no longer to be found, both of them getting affiliated with god knows what. your eyes scanned the living room for sicheng but his presence is still nowhere to be found.

you decided to step towards the kitchen bar, pouring a drink for yourself. the mixed sweet and sour taste of it remained on your tongue for a couple of seconds. looking over at the snacks served, you grabbed a strawberry flavoured lollipop from the clear bowl. the crowd is cheering loudly for some type of incident happening at the back of the room, the music has been turned up to be a little louder than the volume before and you’re suddenly getting a little bit overwhelmed. you grabbed your purse and stepped out, inhaling some fresh air and looking up to the starry night sky.

“y/n? where have you been?” sicheng approached you from behind, making you a bit startled.

“sorry, hanging out outside can calm me. where did you go?” you popped the lollipop into your mouth.

“some jerk decided to throw up in front of me,” you pinched your nose with a disgusted expression, making him roll his eyes.

“do you want me to accompany you out here?” he offered. you just nod your head, placing yourself on the patio with him following suit. the sweetening flavour empowering your senses. it’s definitely much more calm out here, allowing you to clear up your mind. it’s not that you hate the atmosphere in the house right now, you’re just not in the mood.

“you know, you look pretty,” you turned around to meet his face. his brown eyes brimming with unconfessed love.

“shut up, stop with the jokes,” you lightly land a smack on his arms.

“what if i say i’m not joking?” he looked straight into your eyes, trying to find any emotion inside you. the sudden seriousness is making you feel much more awkward so you forced out a laugh, turning your attention right back upwards. the stars are shining brightly tonight, you can almost spot a constellation.

“i know what you’re doing, dong sicheng. just stop it already, it’s not working on me.” denial, that’s what you’re experiencing in the hot minute.

a gentle tug can be felt on your wrist, his eyes still not leaving yours.

“didn’t anyone tell you before? you’re really pretty. like, i can’t even describe it to you. you’re just,” he leaned over to caress your cheeks, “pretty,”.

what jaehyun said on the other day is true, after all.

love gives us thrill, the feeling of excitement, the feeling when you’re uncertain about something but when you have that special someone with you, you’re sure to wing it all.

your heart is beating so fast, it could fall out of your chest at any moment now. even the faint music blasting through the speakers inside the house can’t flush down the sound of your heartbeat. you’re not used to this, the sudden need of the significant skin to skin contact that symbolizes love between two individuals.

“can i?” his face in a very near proximity from yours, whispering into your right ear with his honey-like voice. you pulled the candy away from your mouth and nod, giving him the approval he needed before he dived in. heat rose from your stomach to your chest. you could only focus on how soft his crimson lips felt on yours, invading your privacy by all senses. you felt the kiss expand beyond your bodies, whirling you round, swirling you into the stars. he pulled away with a soft smile, you thought you could melt right then and there.

“wow,” that was the only word escaping your throat. your jumping heart still hasn’t settled down yet, your very first kiss still feeling surreal. you could see that sicheng is very much mirroring your emotions, his slender fingers grazing over his lips - the one that has come in contact with yours.

“the strawberry lollipop is sweet,” he commented, making the both of you laugh.

a ping from your phone awakened you from the gushy eye contact with him, unlocking it only to find yangyang’s text message. the second part of it made you fluster.

yang: yo r u coming in or what? and congrats for the kiss, we thought we’d have to wait longer for this

[gwenvrse]

dream come true

summary: You tune into Tom Holland’s Instagram live for the huge Marvel pub quiz. You would’ve never expected him to even notice you but never say never. pairing: Tom Holland x reader warnings: fluff word count: 1.5k notes: This is my very first time writing absolutely anything. I did this for fun but definitely let me know how I did! *gif by @morganstarks​​ *

You’ve never been this excited about something as simple as a live stream. Not just any live stream though, it was the Marvel Pub Quiz hosted by none other than Tom Holland. Quarantine has seriously been such a bummer. You aren’t feeling as productive as usual.

Probably because of all the junk food and playing Animal Crossing for hours on end.

Nah.

It was just so exciting to even feel like Tom remotely knows who you are. You’ll watch his live and there’s a teeny weeny chance that he could see your name. Then maybe click it. Scroll through your Instagram and maybe-

Oh god stop it. That would NEVER happen.

As it’s nearing the time for the quiz to start, you head to the kitchen to get a snack. Since this is a Marvel quiz, the only logical snack is popcorn because of all the Marvel movies you’ve seen in theaters. As you shove the bag in the microwave, your younger brother pops his head around the corner. 

“Watcha making???” He eyes the microwave.

You reply, “Popcorn…. For one.”

He pouts but it’s soon erased when he sees you pull out two bowls from the cabinet. You’re not feeling that cruel today.

“What time is that Marvel quiz? I can’t wait to kick Stephie’s butt in this quiz. She said I didn’t know anything about Marvel. Is she stupid?!” 

You rolled your eyes. “It’s in a couple minutes. And how dare she even think that. You’re the master of Marvel knowledge,” you say with a hint of sarcasm. The machine stopped beeping, and you separated the popcorn into two bowls. You hand one to your brother and head over to the couch. “Oh my god, it’s almost time!” You say with popcorn in your mouth. You open your phone and click on Tom’s icon. You cannot wait to see his cute face.

The live starts and you hear Tom’s sweet voice say, “Hey everyone what is up! I miss you all so so much and I hope everybody is doing well during these tough times.” He is so caring and thoughtful. You turn to your brother and he gives you a look that is slightly judgey.

I must’ve been smiling without noticing. Oh well. He’ll understand these feelings eventually.

It’s not exactly time for the quiz to start yet so Tom just stalls by talking to Harrison, Harry and Tuwaine. They go on for a bit and start arguing about what is the best episode of Kitchen Nightmares. Tom looked at the live and he quickly realized he was stalling for too long.

 “Oh shi- uh sorry,” he stutters, “I mean lost track of time there. It is now time to start the greatest Marvel pub quiz ever made! And that is totally true because I said it and I am never wrong.” 

The quiz starts, you and your brother are both using your massive knowledge of the Marvel Universe to answer questions as quickly as they come. A couple of the questions you both sat there arguing over who was right. Some questions were complete guesses because neither of you could remember the correct answer. After a few minutes, the quiz is done. You look over your answers, hoping they’re right because Marvel is one of the few things that bring you joy.

Tom smiles as he finishes taking a sip of water, “Okay! The quiz is done, so now I will start inviting people on the live to see if you guys got the right answers! These questions weren’t easy, I know that…” he pauses. Tom begins to struggle with the phone.

“Uh boys,” Harrison’s head pops up on screen next to Toms, “how do I invite someone on the live with me? I tried pressing this and-”

“Tom you’ve got to get better at this bro,” Harrison rolls his eyes

“Yeah yeah, I am a 90 year old man in a 23 year old’s body. I get it,” Tom replies

“Alright, so you press this button and type the person’s name in and then press invite. Got it, grandpa?” Harrison giggles as he walks away.

“Ha Ha. Anyways, let’s start inviting people! Let’s see who’s first,” Tom eyebrows pinch together a little while trying to find someone to invite. You adore his determined face.

You were hoping he would click on your username eventually but after a while it seemed like it wouldn’t happen. Seeing other fans on the live made you feel a little sad but also happy because they look so happy. You were glad that you had gotten most of the answers right so far. Made you feel a little better about the possibility that you weren’t going to be on a live stream with Spider-man.

“We have now gotten to the last question. And I am going to pick, uhhh, y/username! Please click accept to come on the live,” Tom smiled and you suddenly felt your heart in your stomach.

Did he really just- No… no. There’s no way. It’s gotta be someone else with a similar username.

Your brother snaps you out of it, “Y/n! He sent you an invite for the live! Accept it!” He was shaking you and almost jumping on you. You see the accept button and you press it.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod. Is this real?

Your face appears below Tom’s on the screen. “Uh.. Oh my god. Hi” Your voice is so shaky.

C’mon, get it together.

“Hi there love, what’s your name?” Tom’s smile was so friendly. You could almost melt.

“I’m Y/n and this is my brother, Kevin,” Kevin’s head pops into the corner of the screen for a second as he waves to Tom. You are getting so red.

“Nice to meet you guys! Glad you could hang out and do this fun quiz with us,” Tom replies

You start to answer with, “We are really big fans. I love-” 

Kevin cuts you off, “You! Y/n loves youuuu! Y/n is always watching your Spider-man movies and-” You shot him dagger eyes and he stopped talking. 

But it was no use. You were beet red and could feel the heat in your cheeks. Thousands of people just saw and heard that. You were so embarrassed. You made a mental note to kill your brother later.

“Uhhh… disregard that! I just think you’re an amazing actor and I just really love you as Spider-man” You chuckled and tried to look nonchalant.

Tom smiles and lets out a small chuckle, “I like your brother. Good man. Ready for the question Y/n and Kevin?” You both nod yes. “What does S.H.I.E.L.D. stand for?” Tom makes a small wincing face. This one is a hard one. But you and your brother definitely have this one.

At the same time, you and Kevin say the answer, “Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division!” You both smile at Tom through the camera.

“Yes! You guys are so right! I can never get that one. Thanks Y/n and Kevin. You guys are awesome!” Tom winks and you can’t help but feel like that was for you.

Don’t be crazy.

You get off the live and can’t stop smiling. Kevin nudges you and you snap at him. “Why would you say that?! I was trying to be chill and you just made me look not chill at all!” You gave him a dirty look but definitely didn’t mean it.

Tom’s live ended while you were lecturing your brother. You sighed.

I can’t believe that just happened. Tom said my name!

You get up and bring your empty bowl to the sink and start washing. Kevin gets off the couch and you grab his bowl, “I’m going to my room, Y/n. That was so cool! I can’t wait to rub it in Stephie’s face tomorrow.”

You can’t stop thinking about Tom and the monumental moment that just happened. You don’t think anything will ever top that.

*Ding*

Tomholland2013 sent you a direct message

You take a breath in a little too quickly and almost start choking. Then you remember that people who got the questions right would get a signed poster. The dm is probably just for your address. You open the message. Tomholland2013: Hi Y/n! Thanks for playing!  I can’t believe you guys got that question right. It’s way too hard for me 😅 Anyway, could I get your address to send you your prize? I knew it. It’s still so surreal that Tom Holland sent you a dm on Instagram. Who cares if it’s not the dm that you wish it was? Y/username: Thanks for picking me! That was such a dream come true! Btw I’ll take the credit for that one, my brother had no clue what it was. My address is 111 Glendale Rd, NY, USA 😊 Dream come true to be on a live stream with a celebrity? I mean I guess but that sounds so weird. I regret everything.

You close your phone. You figure that’s probably the end of that conversation. Although the moment is over, you still feel the butterflies in your stomach.

*Ding*

Again?

Tomholland2013: Thanks again for playing, love. By the way, I think it’s really cute that you’re in love with me 😉

~*~*~*~*~ tagging some mutuals that i love w all mi corazon: @chaoticpete​ @underoosjae​ @peterismymans​ @bubblebucky​ @rogvewitch​ @quackeroos​ @andromedaaaaaaaaa​ @sovereignparker​ @lost-space-ranger​

[callboxkat]

Second Chances part 8: The Visit (2 of 2)

Author’s note: The second half is here! I hope you guys enjoy it! :)

Summary: Between some difficulty getting along with his coworkers and his quickly approaching visit with his parents, Roman has a lot on his mind. He can only hope that things will turn out well

Warnings: fear of being rejected, arguing, food mention, death mention, knife mention, injury mention, blood mention, Remus mention, accidental misgendering, some Spanish but not a lot

Word count: 7310

Second Chances Masterpost!

Writing Masterpost!

...

It was sunset by the time the bus pulled into its destination.

Roman stared out the window at the station as they approached, searching the small crowd for familiar faces. He wasn’t quite sure whether or not he wanted to find them.

As the bus came to a stop, Roman turned away from the window and slid Logan’s book back into the suitcase, zipped that shut, and picked it up. He waited for everyone ahead of him to file off of the bus, and then followed suit, clutching the flower pot to his chest.

His legs might have been shaking rather badly, but he did his best to ignore that fact.

His shoes hit the asphalt, and a cool wind ruffled his hair. He breathed in deeply and stepped up onto the curb, searching the crowd.

He thought he recognized a few people, people he’d perhaps gone to high school with or seen around town when he was younger; but it was entirely possible that he was simply feeling paranoid, like the earlier incident at the café.

He walked through the crowd, feeling very nervous and rather lost. As the seconds passed with no sign of his parents, he was beginning to think that maybe they had changed their minds, that maybe they had decided they didn’t want to see him after all, that maybe he’d made a mistake in thinking that he’d get to just see them again after lying to them and disappearing for so long.

And then he saw them.

They were about twenty feet away, watching what Roman realized was the wrong bus. Both of them had more gray hairs than Roman remembered, and his dad looked thinner, but it was them. It was really them. A rush of excitement went through his body… only to be instantly overwhelmed by fear.  

Roman stared at them, suddenly unable to move.

Just then, Roman’s mamá turned, and she saw him.

There was no anger on her face, only joy as she gasped, running for him.

Roman let out a laugh that may or may not have strongly resembled a sob, and jogged towards his parents before he could overthink things any more.

“Dad! Mamá!”

People were quick to get out of the way, even if they griped about it; and then she was hugging him; and she smelled just like the same combination of cinnamon and perfume that she always did; and Roman was crying.

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” he said, needing to say it again, to their faces. His mamá shushed him, kissed him on either cheek, then just held his head between her hands, searching his face. Her eyes were filled with tears.

“Mijo,” she whispered. “Mijo, mijo, estás aquí.”

“I’m here,” he assured her, his voice breaking.

“Maybe we should go to the car,” Roman’s dad said, standing to the side. “We’re making a scene.”

Roman’s mamá sniffled, nodding. “Yes, yes, of course—you are right.” She pulled back from the hug slightly. “Oh, you are so thin….”

She reluctantly released him, but kept one of Roman’s hands in a firm grip as they made their way out of the crowd and away from the bus station.

“Oh—um, I got this for you.”

His mamá paused, apparently only then noticing the small, flowering plant that Roman had barely managed not to drop or allow to get squashed during their hug.

“For me?” she repeated.

Roman nodded.

“Thank you, mijo. Las flores son bonitas.”

“They’re forget-me-nots.”

“Oh, I would never forget you.”

Roman smiled, ducking his head slightly. “And Dad, I….” He fished a small box out of his pocket and handed it over. “This is for you.”

“I’ll open it in the car,” his dad promised, giving him a side-hug. They started walking again.

“We drove here together,” his mamá said. “We both wanted to ride back with you.”

Roman frowned, and he took only a few more steps before coming to a stop. “Why—why wouldn’t you have driven here together?”

His parents glanced at each other, and then back at him. His mamá reached up and rubbed his back.

“Roman,” his dad began, avoiding looking at either of them, “you have to understand, it’s been a long time since you left.”

Roman glanced between them. He realized he couldn’t feel the ring on his mamá’s finger where she gently rubbed his back. “Wait. No.” Please don’t let them say what I think they’re going to say.

His dad let out a long, weary sigh. “We got divorced two years ago.”

“We wanted to tell you in person, cariño,” his mamá added. “We decided it wasn’t a… phone conversation.”

Roman didn’t know what to say. Except, very softly��� “Was it my fault?”

They glanced at each other again.

“No,” his mamá said. “No, Roman. It was… it was a lot of things.”

Roman wasn’t sure he quite believed her, but he just nodded and allowed himself to be led to the car. It was his mamá’s car, the same one he remembered. The tassel Roman had worn at his high school graduation no longer hung from the mirror. He forced himself not to read into that.

He got in the backseat, and they drove.

…

Being back in his home town was strange.

A lot had changed in the five years he’d been gone. Things looked older, there were new buildings where there had once been empty lots (or different buildings), and there were empty lots where other buildings had once been.

Most of it, though, looked just the same, which was somehow stranger than what had changed.

It took him a while to realize that the car wasn’t going the way he would have expected to get to his parents’ house. He didn’t mention it, though. The atmosphere in the car was rather awkward, and Roman was content to stare out the window rather than break the silence just yet. After their initial greetings, and the bombshell of breaking the news of the divorce to Roman, no one had seemed sure of what to say to each other.

There had been one brief respite, when Roman’s dad had opened his gift. He had been impressed when he saw the ancient coin that Val had helped Roman pick out. But that conversation had only lasted so long, and they fell back into quietness again.

What did you say to your parents after lying about going to college, disappearing for five years, becoming homeless, and then one day calling them out of the blue to tell them that you were not, in fact, dead?

Yeah, Roman didn’t know, either. “Sorry” probably didn’t cut it.

Sure, they’d been talking on the phone every night for over a week since then; but this was different. This was in person.

The changed route made sense when they reached their destination: It was not the house he and his parents had lived in when he was younger. Of course it wasn’t—he should have realized. Why would his parents still share a home, if they were divorced? And why would one of them pay to live alone in a home built for four? Neither case made sense.

He didn’t recognize the house they pulled up to. It was a small, modest home, painted a pastel yellow. Hostas lined the walkway up to the door, which was a pale gray. Flowerbeds decorated both sides of the house, filled with various flourishing plants. A small, frosted window was set into the door. It was a cute house, Roman had to admit.

“This is your mamá’s place,” his dad said, sounding unsure of how Roman would react. “We’ve set up the guest room for you.”

Roman stared at the house for a long moment before he unbuckled his seatbelt. His dad grabbed the little suitcase, and they all went inside.

Roman’s dad turned to his ex-wife as they entered the house. “Is it alright if I take him to his room?”

“Of course,” Roman’s mamá replied, locking the door behind them. “I will come with you.”

They walked upstairs. Roman’s mamá opened the second door, and Roman stepped through it, into….

His room.

It was his room.

Everything was arranged how it had been in the old house, down to the placement of the posters on the walls and the pillows on the bed. He bet that if he checked the dresser drawers, the clothes he hadn’t brought to “college” would be there. It was much cleaner than Roman had ever kept his room as a kid; and some of his knick-knacks and toys appeared to be missing; but he could see some boxes under the bed; and he guessed he could find them there. Small details like that aside, the similarity was striking.

“You kept my things,” he finally said, sounding rather shell-shocked.

“Of course we did,” his mamá said. “I… we always hoped… you might come back,” she admitted.

Roman rubbed at his eyes. “Oh,” he said, his voice cracking.

“We’ve missed you,” his dad said from the doorway.

“If there is anything you want to take, you can,” his mamá said. “It is all still yours, after all.”

Roman sat down on the bed. The sheets felt freshly washed.

“Took a while to get everything just right,” his dad was saying. “The room dimensions are a little different than the old one. I think we got it, though.”

“Yeah,” Roman said softly, looking around. “You did.”

It was strange.

“So, your mamá and I were thinking of making encebollado soup tonight,” his dad said, changing the subject. He set down Roman’s borrowed suitcase on the floor, beside the desk.

Roman looked over at him, daring to smile. “Since when do you know how to make encebollado?”

“Okay, your mamá was thinking of making it.”

“I would appreciate some help, if you want to give it,” his mamá tempted.

“I’d love to,” Roman said, and he meant it.

…

Roman and his mamá split the work of cutting everything up for the encebollado, including the fish, onions, tomatoes, and yuca.

Once that was done, Roman’s mamá took care of putting everything together into the soup, adding pickled onions and plenty of spices.

Meanwhile, Roman was put to work cutting up the avocado and limes, as well as the plantains for a side dish. He put the sliced avocado and quartered limes each into a bowl and set those at the table before returning to cook the slices of plantain.

“Not too long, mijo,” His mamá said, watching. “They could burn.”

“I like mine crispy,” he reminded her.

(That brief exchange felt so much like one they might have had years ago, before everything changed, that Roman froze for a second, and had to minutely shake himself to get back to what he was doing.)

“It smells amazing,” his dad chimed in. He was mainly serving as a cheerleader where he sat at the kitchen table, commenting on how great everything looked and smelled. He wasn’t a great cook, and Roman’s mamá didn’t trust him to operate a cutting board. Probably for good reason.

Roman glanced up to see him stealing an avocado slice.

“Hey, I saw that,” he said, his heart beating faster as he tried to take on a joking tone.

Thankfully, his dad just smirked. “Saw what?” he asked, taking another slice.

Roman pointed the spatula at him as if in warning, narrowing his eyes.

His dad stuck the avocado slice in his mouth and smiled. Roman gasped as if affronted by his audacity.

Roman’s mamá seemed amused (and possibly relieved) by their antics. “How was your trip, mijo?” she asked, stirring the soup. Roman’s dad was right. It did smell amazing.

“It was fine,” Roman said. “The bus driver was really nice, and I got a window seat.” He flipped over the plantains he was cooking. “Pat and Logan dropped me off,” he added, smiling a little. “They were waving goodbye even as we were pulling away.”

“They seem like good friends,” his mamá said approvingly.

“They are,” Roman agreed. He didn’t deserve them.

…

After dinner, which was only about a quarter of the way as awkward as Roman had feared it would be, Roman’s dad took his plate to the sink, squeezing his son’s shoulder on the way.

“I have to go, but I’ll be back in the morning, okay?”

“Okay,” Roman said. He watched his dad as he walked into the kitchen, rinsed off his bowl and set it in the sink, and went to grab his coat.

“Bye,” he said.

“Bye,” said Roman.

“Chau,” said his mamá.

The door closed, and Roman’s mamá, who was loading the dishwasher, paused, clearly thinking about something. Roman watched her, starting to grow worried. As he’d expected, she turned to him.

“May I show you something?”

Roman, still sitting down at the table, shifted uncertainly; but he wasn’t going to refuse. “Claro, Mamá.”

She nodded, and walked over to a different part of the kitchen counter. “Some months after you disappeared,” she said, retrieving something from a drawer, “we received a phone call.”

Roman frowned.

She hovered behind the counter, looking down at whatever it was she had taken out. “It was from the police department in a city called Clearwater. They said that they had received a 911 call from someone who reported anonymously that a group of men had attacked a man under a bridge.”

Roman forgot how to breathe.

He knew exactly what she was talking about.

Those men. Their laughter. Their accusations. A knife, gleaming in the night.

The thin scar just under his jaw felt like it had been outlined in ice. His ribs and his tongue ached in memory.

They’re gone. You got away, he reminded himself. If they were going to find you and kill you, or send the police after you, it would have happened a long time ago.

He squeezed his hands together, and he waited.

His mamá hadn’t seemed to notice his reaction, too distracted by her own thoughts. “They said that by the time they got the call, no one was there.” She took a shuddering breath. “That there was only garbage, and… blood.” There were tears in her eyes. “And this.”

She walked back to the table, holding a clear plastic bag. She sat down and slid the bag over to Roman. Inside was a broken phone, the corner of it bent, with cracks spread across the screen, and in a case broken in two. A few small pieces of glass that had come free sat at the bottom of the bag.

It was Roman’s old phone.

“They were able to get some of the data off of it, and find out it was yours.” She let out a shaky exhale. “The police returned it to us because it technically belonged to your dad.”

Roman stared down at the phone.

“This is all we had, for nearly five years,” she said. “We told the police to look for you, but they said that there was nothing they could do. We went to Clearwater ourselves, for a week, to try to find you… but we couldn’t.” She paused for a second, apparently decided against saying something, then continued, “We were afraid that… that they had” —she swore in Spanish—“that they had killed you, and… you were gone.”

“I left,” Roman murmured. “I couldn’t stay; I….” He shook his head. The why didn’t matter. “Mamá, I’m sorry.”

His mamá looked at him. “May I ask what happened?”

Roman subconsciously rubbed a hand across his jaw, over the scar there. “It’s not important,” he said. “Some jerks decided to mess with me, because I was there, and they could. But I’m okay. It was a long time ago.”

“Cariño… I did want to know that, but I meant….”

Roman looked away. She meant why he had disappeared in the first place, of course. How he had ended up homeless, and why he hadn’t tried to ask for help before it was well past too late.

He’d already told Logan and Patton most of the story, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to tell his family. Especially since he suspected that—assuming they believed him—they would think it was their fault, if they knew some of the details. He’d only told them the basics up until then—the fact that Saint Gabriel had retracted their offer of admission, that Roman hadn’t wanted to tell his parents, and that he’d run out of money after leaving home and ended up on the street. But they didn’t know much more than that about the reasons why that had happened in the first place. Or why he’d been so against telling them about being in trouble.

The seconds were ticking by, and Roman still hadn’t said anything.

She studied his face for a long moment, as if deciding whether to push the issue, or to let it go. Finally, she nodded to herself, and she took his hands in hers. “When I heard your voice on the phone, I was so sure it was a cruel joke. But it was really you. You are here.”

Roman’s eyes flicked back towards her, and he gave her a watery smile.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to see you again.”

“I thought you’d be furious with me,” Roman said, his voice cracking.

“I was,” she admitted. “You know that I was.”

Roman recalled their first phone call with a wince. There had been… quite a bit of yelling, on that call, once she’d been convinced that it was really him on the phone. He didn’t blame her, though. Five years was a long time to go without any word, especially since he had disappeared without any warning.

“But I love you, and your brother,” she said. “And that will not change, whatever your mistakes.”

Roman swallowed hard. A second or two passed in silence.

“…Could we have hot chocolate?” he asked.

“With cinnamon?”

“Yes, please.”

…

Roman stood in front of his old over-the-door mirror, staring at the loose folds of fabric that draped over his thin frame.

After his conversation with his mamá, Roman had come upstairs to the guest room—to his room. Or to the room that eerily mimicked his room, anyway.

Simply to pass the time and definitely not as a way to nostalgically relive the past, and since all his old things were right there, he decided to try on a few of his old clothes and see if they still fit how they used to.

Unsurprisingly, they didn’t.

Well, it wasn’t that they didn’t fit, exactly. Technically, they still fit. But they were a lot looser than Roman remembered them being. The pants he had on might not have stayed up if it weren’t for the belt he wore.

Roman put his hands in the pockets, frowning.

He wondered how this outfit would have fit during the worst days of his homelessness. There had been some… rough times.

He’d never been very good at being homeless.

Roman shook his head, deciding not to dwell on that. He was supposed to be moving on with his life, wasn’t he? He wasn’t homeless anymore, and he wasn’t alone. He had Logan, and Patton, and Val, and his parents. He was fine. The past didn’t matter anymore.

He pulled the shirt back over his head and threw it on the bed with a bit more vehemence than was strictly required. Instead, he picked up the one he’d had on before, one that Logan and Patton had gotten him, and pulled it back on. He changed back into his better-fitted jeans, moved the discarded shirt, and sat down on the bed. He stared for a long moment at the still-open drawer of the dresser, and the neatly folded clothes within.

A thought came to him, and he got back up, looking in the closet. It probably wasn’t there, but just in case, Roman figured there was no harm in checking. He stood on his tip-toes, searching.

His old duffel bag sat on the shelf, just about where it would have been in Roman’s old room. Roman snatched it and pulled it down.

Maybe his old clothes were rather loose; and he didn’t particularly want some of the old t-shirts emblazoned with logos for bands he’d never been a fan of in the first place; but he could still wear most of the clothes. And his parents had said that he could take whatever he wanted from the room.

Roman unzipped the duffel bag and started stuffing clothes in. Even if they were too big now, they might fit better eventually. And for every shirt he could keep from his old things, that was one less shirt he would have to buy for himself later on (or worse, have bought for him).

The half-full duffel bag joined the small blue suitcase on the floor, and Roman went to bed. He would have expected to lie there, awake, for hours, overthinking the next day; but he fell asleep too fast.

…

It turned out that Roman’s parents had gone ahead and made plans for what they and Roman would do over the long weekend. It seemed that they really wanted to make up for lost time, judging by the packed days.

Saturday morning, they went to the local park, revisiting old haunts that Roman hadn’t seen in a long time. The duck pond, the reservoir, the fountain, the old trees and picnic tables where the family used to have picnics when Roman and his brother were kids.

Almost all of the meals Roman had that weekend were homemade—save for when they stopped for ice cream at the mall, or Saturday evening, when Roman’s dad insisted that they go to Olive Garden to celebrate. Apparently he’d gotten a gift card a while back and was looking forward to using it. In any case, all of the meals were rather large. Roman’s mamá made so much food, it was as if she were trying to get her son to gain back all the weight he’d lost over the years within just that one weekend.

…

On Sunday, they were planning to go to the zoo. Roman came downstairs to find that both of his parents were already there, presumably waiting for him. His dad must have come early, so that they could get out the door and have more time at the zoo. Except… something seemed off. They each had plates of breakfast set out in front of them, but the food appeared almost untouched. Roman paused, wondering what was going on. Clearly, he was missing something.

His mamá looked like she was trying not to cry. His dad looked like he was trying to decide whether to be horrified or enraged.

Roman considered just going back upstairs, and “sleeping in” until whatever was going on was over. He took a hesitant step back.

“Roman.”

Too late.

His dad had spotted him, and was beckoning him over. Roman very reluctantly shuffled nearer.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” his mamá said.

Roman glanced between them. “What’s going on?” he asked, hoping he wouldn’t regret the question too much.

His parents glanced at each other. His mamá looked slightly guilty.

His dad cleared his throat. “Your mamá, ah… told me some new information,” he said.

“He needed to know,” she added.

Why did Roman feel like he was about to get in trouble?

“She told me what you told her. About the phone, and Clearwater.”

“…But I didn’t tell her anything,” Roman said, frowning.

Unsurprisingly, they didn’t appear happy with that impulsive response.

“You told her enough,” his dad said.

Roman stared between them. All he had told them was that some jerks had been mean to him, and that he had left the city afterwards to get away from them. How was that any new information? They had already known that his phone had been left behind after some guys had attacked him, and….

Wait.

His mamá had said “a man”. She had said a group of men had attacked “a man”.

Roman gripped the back of the nearest chair.

No. They couldn’t have thought….

“You thought I was one of the guys who attacked someone?” he said, his voice like a dry desert breeze.

“No, mijo, no—”  

“Yes, you did!” Roman said, taking a step back. He stared at his dad with wide eyes. “You did, didn’t you?”

“We didn’t know what had happened,” his dad said. “We didn’t know anything, or what to think.”

Roman tried to speak, failed, and shook his head.

A long silence fell, and then his mamá said, “Perhaps… we had almost hoped you were. It was better than thinking you had been….”

His dad sighed. “We’d rather you had been a criminal than dead,” he reluctantly admitted.

“Well, I’m not dead,” Roman said bitterly.

“No, you’re not,” his mamá said. Roman noticed with a sinking heart that she was crying now.

His dad leaned forward. “Roman, what happened? Who were those people who attacked you? Why were you there in the first place?”

Roman squeezed his eyes shut.

“Please. Something happened. Why would those people attack you for no reason?”

Roman’s nails bit into his hands. Maybe it wasn’t on purpose, but his dad was making it sound like it was automatically his fault he was attacked. (Which, okay, maybe it was, but the assumption still hurt).

“Roman—”

“I messed up, okay?!” Roman cried, fisting his hands in his hair. “I messed up, and I was—I was just hungry, okay? And those guys found me, and they—they had a knife, what was I supposed to do? I just—I was just trying to—” Roman turned away, his breaths coming in heavy gasps. He kept stammering, hardly knowing what he was saying, just trying to say that it wasn’t his fault and that he was sorry and he’d just run away like a coward because he had no choice and why did they even care about something that happened so long ago and why would they ever think he’d been one of those thugs—

He was suddenly crushed in a hug.

Roman’s stammering broke off, and he buried his face in his mamá’s shoulder.

“Breathe, cariño, please,” she murmured. “Todo está bien, te prometo.”

She held him like that until he had mostly calmed down, and then she gently led him to the living room, where she sat him down on the couch and wrapped him in a blanket, taking her place beside him. She put a hand on his back, occasionally  murmuring reassurances.

But his dad kept staring at him.

“This isn’t really news, is it?” Roman said eventually, breaking the silence and steadfastly ignoring the way his voice threatened to give out. “I already told you I was homeless. I messed up. Why is it any big shock that I messed up again?” And again, and again, and again.

“You just said that you were attacked, with a knife,” his dad said. “You could have died!”

Roman shrank into his blanket. “I didn’t.”

“But you could have. And I’m sure there’s other things that happened that you’re not even telling us about—God, five years. It’s been five years. Roman, why didn’t you just talk to us? We could have helped you! You could have stopped all of this before it started.”

His mamá looked at her ex-husband. “James, stop."

Roman worked his jaw. “I did try to tell you, but….”

“But what?”

“But you didn’t believe me! I tried to tell you, I tried to tell you I didn’t plagiarize, but you didn’t believe me. So why would you believe me about anything else? You already think I’m just like Remus.”

“Roman….”

“You do! You do. I know it’s true. Mamá told me, but she didn’t have to.”

His dad’s eyes flicked to Roman’s mamá, who closed her eyes in resignation. “She told you what?”

“That you were angry with me, that you said it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. She said that—that—that I probably ran off to get away from you guys and join a gang or something.”

“I didn’t say you’d joined a gang.”

“But I know what you think of me, what you’ve always thought of me. But, Dad, I’m not him. Please. I’m not Remus.”

“Roman, if you’re trying to say I don’t love you, that’s not true. I love you a lot. If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t care.”

“No—no, I know you love me. You love him too. That’s not what this is about.” He looked away, swallowing painfully. “You love me, yeah, but you’ve never trusted me. Not really.” He took a shaky breath. “And I just couldn’t… I could see the looks on your faces when I told you I wasn’t going to Saint Gabriel. I couldn’t.”

A long silence fell.

“I’m going upstairs,” Roman croaked. He got up, ignoring his mamá’s protests, and walked past his dad, who just stared at him, clearly still trying to figure out what to say. Roman didn’t give him that chance. He kept going, hurried up the stairs, and fled into his room. He quietly closed and locked the door, and sat down on the bed, staring at the floor, the blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders.

Morning turned to early afternoon. Roman didn’t leave his room. He heard voices occasionally. It sounded like his parents had decided to give him some space.

Finally, around 1 pm, he heard someone coming up the steps, and there was a knock on the door. It was his dad.

“Roman?” he asked through the door. “Please open up.”

Roman swallowed, not moving.

“Roman, I’m sorry.”

The floorboards creaked.

“I believe you,” he continued. “If you say you didn’t plagiarize, I believe you. Your mamá does, too. We should have believed you before, and I’m sorry we didn’t. I’m sorry you thought you couldn’t come to us for help. And I’m sorry if we ever made you believe we didn’t think you were a good person. We’ve always known you were a good person.”

It was a little too late, but… it was something.

Roman unlocked the door and returned to the bed.

After a second, his dad hesitantly opened the door. He stepped inside, and silently sat down on the bed at Roman’s side.

Roman pulled the blanket more tightly around himself. His dad stared at one of Roman’s posters for a moment, clearly not actually taking it in, then turned to his son.

“…Were you hurt?” he asked softly.

Roman swallowed. “I’m okay now.”

His dad recognized that as a yes, of course. He sighed through his nose, working his jaw. “How badly?”

Roman hesitated, then tilted his head slightly and touched the inch-long scar just under his jaw. It was faded, but he knew his dad could see it.

“Is that from…?”

“Yeah.”

His dad swore. Roman wasn’t sure he’d ever heard him swear like that before.

“Who were they?”

“There’s no point.”

“We could—”

“There’s no point,” Roman insisted tiredly. Even if they had any proof of who it was, and even if Roman knew more than one of their names, and even if it hadn’t already been four and a half years since the attack, there would be no point. It wouldn’t change anything. Not to mention that the whole reason it had happened to begin with was that Roman was a thief, and he could very well end up as the only one in trouble. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

He could tell his dad wanted to argue further, but he let it go.

“Do you want to go back downstairs?” he asked instead. “We could just watch a movie. Have a lazy day. We can go to the zoo some other time.”

Roman bit his lip, then slowly nodded. “Okay.”

His dad got up, and Roman followed him downstairs.

…

Things were better after that. Maybe that conversation hadn’t gone exactly how any of them would have chosen for it to go, but it was clear that they had needed to confront the elephant in the room.

Roman’s mamá apologized, too, once he came downstairs, hugging him tightly and telling him that the only thing that mattered was that he was safe, now.

The rest of the day, they just watched old movies from their collection, and Roman’s mamá played with his hair like she had done when he was very small.

The next day, they still didn’t go to the zoo—maybe a future visit, they decided—and instead went to the mall, where they had fun playing with the puppies at one of the pet stores; and Roman’s dad bought him a couple of books. “For on the bus on Monday,” he claimed, even though there were already books in Roman’s room.

Finally, and yet all too soon, the last day of Roman’s stay had come and gone.

A couple of hours before they had to leave for the bus station, Roman’s mamá came to get him, and she led him downstairs, where his dad waited. His parents sat down at the table, gesturing for Roman to sit down across from them. Once he did, his mamá placed her warm, calloused hands over his own. She opened her mouth, had a false start, then spoke.

“It has been wonderful, having you here for the past few days. I know that not everything was perfect, but I know that it will get better in time.” She took a deep breath. “Mijo, I know that you are planning to go home tonight… and I know that this is a lot to ask, but we were hoping, maybe… you might stay? Here, with us?”

There was a long silence. Roman didn’t know how to respond.

“If you want a week or two, so that your job has some warning, that’s okay,” his dad said, before adding, “We both want you here.”

Roman looked between them.

“…You want me to stay because you think I’m gonna screw up and end up homeless again or something, right?”

“No,” his mamá said firmly. “We want you to stay because we love you. We have missed you, so, so much. We want a chance to try again.”

Roman fell silent again.

He thought of all that his parents had been trying to do these past few days. He thought of the cinnamon hot chocolate, the excursions and movie nights, the big family meals, the not-so-subtle attempts to spoil Roman, and the way his parents seemed to be pretending to still have the same relationship they had always had even though they had been divorced for years. He thought of the guest bedroom, carefully constructed to mirror his old one as exactly as possible. Like a snapshot into a former life. A former life that he couldn’t get back, whether he wanted to or not. And maybe that was okay. He had changed since then. Not necessarily all for the better, but not necessarily all for the worse, either. Going back, pretending he was the same Roman he had been in high school, wasn’t just wishful thinking. It wasn’t realistic; and even if he could do that, it would be a move backwards.

“I think it’s best if I move on with my life,” he said finally. “It won’t do me any good to just go back and pretend the last five years never happened, that nothing’s changed.” He squeezed her hand. “I… I have a job now, and I really like living with Logan and Patton and Val.” And they did want him to come back, he reminded himself. They did. He looked up at his dad. “I do still want to see you guys, though. I’d really like to keep calling you, and visit sometimes, if… if that’s okay.”

His mamá looked sad, but she nodded. “Of course. I understand.”

His dad didn’t look surprised. He laid his hand over his son’s and his ex-wife’s.

Roman smiled shyly. “Plus, we never got to go to the zoo.”

…

When Roman went home, with Patton’s suitcase and his own duffel bag of clothes, Patton and Val came to pick him up. Logan was unfortunately at work, and he couldn’t make it.

As the bus pulled up to the curb, and Roman struggled to blink away his drowsiness (it was a long drive) he saw the pair at the front on the sidewalk. Val looked pretty relaxed, but Patton looked like he was vibrating with apprehension. He was talking to Val, who looked like she was trying to reassure him that everything was fine.

Roman picked up his things, thanked the bus driver, and was one of the first people off the bus.

Patton wormed his way closer, while Roman made his way away from the crowds. As soon as they met, Patton latched onto Roman like a koala bear.

“How’d it go?” Val asked, while Patton was busy trying to crush Roman in a hug.

“It went okay,” Roman said, putting his arms around Patton. He took a deep breath and let it out, smiling. “It went okay.”

Val reached out, and her fingers just barely touched his sleeve before she let her arm fall. “I’m glad.”

Patton finally let go for them to head to the car, already pestering Roman with questions about how his visit had gone, and if he needed to fight anyone or not.

Roman smiled, and he told him about the good parts of his visit. He was sure Patton already knew that there had been hiccups—how could there not have been?—but Roman wanted to focus on what had gone right.

…

On Tuesday, Roman went back to work. He was early, as was becoming his custom, but he showed up only a few minutes before Thomas did. His manager looked perfectly fine, now, so it appeared that whatever had kept him at home for two days the week before had passed. He leaned on his car for a moment before he came in, as always, but he seemed okay.

“Hey, Roman,” he said as he came in, pinning his name tag in place.

“Hey,” Roman responded. He wasn’t sure whether it was bad manners or not to ask his manager if he was feeling better, especially since three days had passed. And he didn’t want Thomas to misinterpret anything. So he didn’t. “How was your weekend?” he asked instead.

“It was good,” Thomas said. “How was yours?”

Roman shrugged. “It was… interesting. But good.”

Just then, the door opened, and Roman glanced up to see Virgil standing there.

Virgil, who was wearing a skirt, and a name tag that said “Rose”.

Otherwise, the outfit under Virgil’s Sanders Café uniform consisted of the barista’s typically emo attire. Black leggings, combat boots, purple nail polish, a distressed long-sleeve shirt, and purple piercings. But instead of jeans, Virgil wore a knee-length, lacy black skirt.

The barista stalked forward, head held high, as if daring anyone to say anything. Thomas just smiled and called out a greeting.

Roman kept glancing at his coworker throughout their shift that day. Virgil was surely aware of it, and maybe it was rude, but Roman couldn’t really help himself. He—She? They?—never said anything about it, but did seem more stiff than usual. But at least Virgil wasn’t being openly hostile. That seemed to have stopped after Roman’s… embarrassing incident, on Friday. Virgil didn’t even comment when Roman bumped into an open, quarter-full milk carton and spilled it across the counter. Thomas noticed too, but he didn’t seem inclined to intervene, instead serving customers like normal while Roman cleaned it up.

Roman glanced at Virgil’s skirt, and remembered several days before, when he’d tried to break the ice with Virgil by making a joke about the “Mary Lee” nametag that the barista wore at the time.

…Roman might have really f*cked up.

He had to know if his guess was correct, but he wasn’t about to ask in front of so many customers, or in font of Thomas.

Finally, there was a break in the crowd; Thomas went in the back for a break; and Roman awkwardly walked over to his coworker.

Virgil tensed immediately, looking suspicious. “What?”

Roman flinched slightly at the tone. “Sorry, I just, um….” He glanced down at Virgil’s skirt. “I just wondered…” he trailed off, gesturing at Virgil, at the skirt and the name tag and the admittedly gorgeous purple lipstick. “Are you…?” God, he was awful at this. He knew exactly what he wanted to ask, but what if he was wrong? What if Virgil got offended at him for even asking? Virgil was already rather volatile to begin with. He didn’t want to break their fragile truce.

Virgil looked unimpressed at Roman’s garbled attempts at a question, arms crossed, an eyebrow cocked as if daring Roman to continue. That wasn’t helpful.

“Are you… Are you a he? Can I call you he? Or is something else… better?” Roman finally got out. He was pretty sure he was the color of a tomato.

Virgil stared at him, looking ready to chew him up and spit him out if he reacted the wrong way. “She,” Virgil finally said in a clipped voice. “It’s a ‘she’ day.”

“Oh,” Roman said. He let out a breath, relieved at not being screamed at. “Okay. Do you want to be called Rose, then, or….?”

Virgil glanced down at the name tag on her lapel, and she actually laughed. “No, no. Virgil will do. This is just one of my collection.”

“Okay. So… if today is a ‘she’ day, does that mean not every day is?”

Virgil pursed her lips. “If you’re asking if you can get away with calling me ‘he’ or ‘they’ every day, the answer’s no.”

“What if I’m not asking that?”

“…Then no, not every day is.” She looked back up then and seemed to be studying Roman’s face. There was a mixture of suspicion and something else in her eyes. Roman shifted uncomfortably. Before either of them could say anything more, the bell over the door rang, and they both snapped back to attention and went back to work.

Various times throughout the remainder of their shift, Roman could feel Virgil’s eyes on him.

Finally, two o’clock came and went, and Virgil and Roman were both in the back, getting ready to leave. Roman took the opportunity to approach his fellow barista. Virgil looked up from her phone as he approached, but didn’t do anything to discourage him from speaking. So Roman cleared his throat.

“Hey, um… about that joke I made a while back, about the “Mary Lee” name tag. I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t know you were… that you weren’t a guy. It was just my stupid attempt to talk with you. I was just fishing for something to say. I’m sorry.”

Virgil stuck her phone in her pocket. “It’s fine,” she said.

“Is it? Because that was pretty sucky of me, I’d say.”

She sighed. “You didn’t know. But I’d appreciate if you didn’t make jokes like that in the future.”

“I won’t. I promise. And if I ever do something stupid again, please tell me.” It would be a lot better than days of hostility without explanation, at any rate.

“Deal.”

Roman felt relief wash over him.

“So…” Virgil said, “how was your family thing?”

“It was good,” Roman said. “We didn’t watch Lord of the Rings or play any video games, though.”

“No? Dang. Weekend wasted.” Virgil shook her head. “Please tell me you at least slept in.”

Roman laughed.

[kaweeella]

PersonA3!

Chapter 12- Strange, Strange Kids

Word count- 1446

Description- Getting closer to your dream and the people around you.

They go their separate ways, Kazunari taking the posters with him.

“How would I explain where I got it? I’d assume Tachibana-san would recognize something like that.” Tsuzuru said. So Kazunari is the one holding onto them.

“Where did you go, Kamakichi?”

“Nonya.”

Tsuzuru is very familiar with this phrase from many years with both his older and younger brothers. He’s even used it himself once or twice. It means that he’s not getting answers easily.

Instead of trying to continue what is obviously going to go nowhere if Kamakichi has something to say about it, he just sighs and decides to look into writing jobs in the area. 

“Oh, Minagi, right?”

It’s Tasuku. Tsuzuru still doesn’t know his last name, he’s not willing to ask though. He’s gone through plenty of conversations without knowing the person’s name.

“What’re you doing?”

“Nothing much, walking my bird. Looking for writing jobs.”

“I’m not your bird.”

“You two are pretty strange, huh?” He mutters under his breath. “There are some theaters that I help out with that are looking for new writers. I can recommend you to them.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, well, I’d need to see a test script first, to see if you're up to snuff.”

“Alright, I’ll get it to you as soon as possible!”

Tasuku sees the spark in his eyes. Kamakichi can hear the fire in his voice. Passersby are confused by the man yelling suddenly at night.

“Great, looking forward to it.”

“Is there a theme?”

“Um, how about love? “

“Alright, got it! I’ll be back when it’s done!” Tsuzuru runs off, Kamakichi falling off his shoulder.

“Hey!” He quickly readjusts and flies next to him. “Did ya’ forget about something?”

“Jeez.” Tasuku watched him leave with enthusiastic haste. “Weird kid. Hope it works out well.”

~~~

Love. Tasuku made the theme love, and Tsuzuru is having some trouble with it. He’s never really been in a relationship before.

“Not again.” Izumi watches from the doorway as Tsuzuru sits typing at his desk.

“Some big-wig actor guy said he’d help him get a writing job last night.”

“I know the answer but… has he slept?”

“Nope. Just writing and granola bars since he got home.”

“What’s the deadline?”

“There isn’t one, at least the guy didn’t say anything about one.”

“Should’ve made him sign for willful endangerment.” Yasashii leans on the doorframe.

“That stool probably isn’t doing his back any favors.”

“I really underestimate how much he’d use it.”

“We should probably get him a proper desk chair.”

“He’s an adult, he can get one.”

“Yeah, but I don’t trust him to make a decision to benefit his own health.”

“Irresponsible kid.” Yasashii shakes her head and stands up straight. “You know, you’re not much better.”

“Well I’ve never gone to school concussed before.”

“Yeah, still, I’d like it if you focused on your health some more, too, and not just physically”

“Hey, I’m trying to concentrate. Can you guys do this outside, please?”

“Oh fuck.” None of them thought he was listening. “Kid, you need to sleep.”

“Not right now.”

Kamakichi perches on Izumi’s shoulder. “He’s boring when he gets like this.”

The three of them exit the room, closing the door as they leave.

“Are all kids like that? They just don’t take care of their health?”

“I take good care of my health.”

“Yeah, okay.” Yasashii says facetiously.

“I do!” Izumi puts her hands on her hips when her attention is drawn to Kamakichi, who flaps his wings with her sudden movement. “You just gonna stay there?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve gotta do something. I’m going to be leaving.”

“Alright. So be it.”

“Well, see you later, mom.”

“Bye, love you, have a good day.”

Izumi steps outside, Kamakichi looks around. He’s never gotten to see this place at day, like a real good look. It’s either at night or he’s in a hurry or he’s inside. It’s nice.

“So what’re you going to go?”

“I’m going to meet up with some of my colleagues from work and discuss the upcoming changes with the managerial pos-” Kamakichi flies off and Izumi gives a smug smile, although it slowly falls as something occurs to her.

Minagi-san I’m so sorry

What happened?

Kamakichi was on my shoulder and I left the house and then he flew off

He’ll be back.

Are you sure?

Very.

Okay

Again I’m sorry

Don’t worry about it.

Izumi didn’t expect him to be so calm. She supposes that if he’s not worried then neither should she, but she can’t help but to feel guilty.

Kamakichi, however, feels no guilt. He just wonders how everyone is doing something boring. That’s when he spots someone he recognizes and debates with himself on whether or not it’s a good idea to say hi. He’s bored, but is he that bored?

He soon decides yes, yes he is going to say hi and yes he is that bored.

“Hey.” He flies down and perches on Masumi’s shoulder, startling him some.

“You’re that… Minagi guys bird.”

“I am not his bird! I am no one's bird!”

“You were in his room.”

“And?”

“What are you even doing here?”

“Minagi’s writing and he’s boring when he gets like that, so how are you doing, kid?”

“Don’t call me that.” Masumi can’t put on his headphones, as Kamakichi is standing on them. He almost believes he’s doing it intentionally.

“How are you doing?” He most definitely is doing it intentionally.

“I was doing fine until an annoying bird started bothering me.”

“Usui-san!” A girl runs up to him. “Aw, is this your bird?”

“No.”

“Oh, are you watching it for a friend?”

“No. He just showed up and started yapping.”

“Well he’s really cute! Especially on you.”

“I find him more annoying than anything.”

“Hey!”

“Oh, well I was just wondering, would you like to, I don't know, get a cup of coffee or something?”

“No.”

She giggles “See you at school, then.”

“If I must.”

She walks away and Kamakichi looks at Masumi.

“Are you dense, or a dick?”

“What?”

“Deaf now, too? She was clearly into you.”

“But I don’t like her. I hardly even know her.”

Kamakichi sees her talking to some girls across the street and notices that she doesn’t look too upset. If anything she looks… starstruck. He tries to listen to what she’s saying. There isn’t too much traffic and she is speaking rather loud, so it’s easy.

“Uhg. He’s so cool.” She sighs.

“I can’t believe how pretty he is.” One of her, Kamakichi assumes, friends comments. “And he’s so mysterious and broody. Like the perfect package.”

“I don’t get what they see in you.”

“I don’t either. It’s annoying.”

Masumi continues walking with Kamkichi complaining in his ear. He changes his destination, and soon he’s standing outside of the Tachibana residence.

Yasashii opens the door for him. “Kid, Kamakichi.”

“I’m here to give Minagi his bird back.”

“I’m not his bird!”

“Alright, I’ll bring you over to him. Thank you for bringing him back.”

Masumi enters Tsuzuru’s room without knocking and startles him.

“Usui-san.” Tsuzuru says, not looking at his computer screen for the first time in hours. “What’re you doing here?”

“Your bird. He’s been bothering me. Take him back.”

“I figured he’d come back on his own, but this works too.”

He’s back.

Tsuzuru messages Izumi.

“You’re texting her.”

“I’m still not trying to go after her.”

“He basically has girls begging for him to even look at them. Kids are weird.” Kamakichi perches back onto Tsuzuru’s shoulder.

“Why are you so dead-set on Izumi-san when you could date someone… I don’t know… someone your age? Someone you’ve met more than once? Maybe try developing healthy relationships with people around you, it’ll make you more emotionally well-adjusted.”

Masumi shuffles a little. “What do you know.”

“You said your parents are in New york?”

“Yeah.”

“Were they away often?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Okay how about this.” Tsuzuru adjusts so his whole body faces Masumi. “I could help you with socialization and making friends.”

“I don’t wanna make friends.”

Different tactics, Minagi. “I could help you get closer to Izumi-san.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“... deal.”

Time freezes again, something Tsuzuru is slowly growing used to.

“I am thou,

As thou art I

Thou hast acquired a new vow.

When bonded together you shall find

The arcana of the Lovers

Your soul shall bind.”

Lover? Are you sure you don’t mean stalker?

The card has two figures on it with a heart in between them, VI on the bottom. Roman numeral six.

“I’ll walk you out.”

“I don’t need you to.”

“Alright. Get home safe.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

[madzilla84]

VidCon London 2020

I wrote up some rambly thoughts on Vidcon, my trip, and Phil day!

I arrived in London the night before the others, last Thursday (a week ago?? WOT), so went straight to my friend’s place in London – we went to a pub near his for pizza, and while I was there I saw Dan’s cute tweet. After a few wines, it made me super emotional as you can imagine. I love him. <3

We had some more drinks once we got back, which made the next morning … well.

Friday – Day 1

YUP, HANGOVER. But luckily not a ‘can’t function’ hangover, so once I’d packed up I made my way over to the Airbnb (it was fuckin WIMDY) to leave the luggage (too early to check in). The previous occupants were a group of Lads who’d left the place in a state, so it was still being cleaned. HONESTLY BOYS SMH)

Then I headed to the complex’s on-site café (ooh errr) and spent some time trying to figure out what to write in the card I wanted to give to Phil. My roomies @yikesola, @ahappydnp and @calvinahobbes arrived a little later and we checked into the flat, and basically hung out and chatted until it was time to head to registration. Which was a good decision as the line was super small on Friday night. Gotta say, the feeling of seeing Phil so big and so central on all the banners and posters for the con made me feel so proud of him. As other people have mentioned, there was some – curiosity, I guess? Worry? – about whether it would be weird seeing him there doing his first event like this on his own in a *very* long time, but somehow it wasn’t, at any point.  

We spotted Martyn checking in further down the hall, which was probably the first moment it all started to Feel Real. We (slightly awkwardly at first in my case lol) met a bunch of online folks in the registration area, and tagged along for a cable car ride over the river (did I mention it was WIMDY) to the O2 arena for dinner. When we all sat down to eat I realised I was sitting opposite two friends from IDB! \o/ We headed back after the meal to hang out and PREPARE for what was about to come.

Saturday - Day 2 - PHIL DAY

We started off by going for breakfast – naturally pancakes – and then headed across to the con. The first event of the day was the comedy panel that Phil was on, so we went across to the panel room early and ended up sitting through the panel before that one, ‘Out and Online’, which was probably – Phil notwithstanding – the better of the two I saw.

During that first panel – and really all morning up to that point – I’d started to feel increasingly nervous. I’d never met Dan or Phil before, and the fact it was happening imminently was suddenly hitting me. Not to mention it was very hot in the panel room that day, and – yeah. By the time the LGBT+ panel finished, I was just like the *screaming internally* meme.

The only other time I’d seen D&P in person with my own eyes was at Interactive Introverts – non-VIP, and I was quite far from the stage, so I couldn’t see them well, y’know? So when the panellists walked in for the comedy panel, I turned around and saw Phil properly in person for the first time. And… wow. I’m sure I hardly need to tell anyone on this forum how attractive he is, but I was just blown away by how beautiful he is in person. He just seems to, like, glow. 

And I was absolutely in love with his jacket, which I thought was new at first (it took me a while to place it was the one from the II promo photos). He just looked wonderful, and I went full Heart Eyes Motherfucker as he took his seat with the others. And once I’d actually seen him, somehow I felt less anxious and stressed. 

The panel was okay – I wasn’t familiar with the other attendees and I’m not sure theirs is the sort of content I’d necessarily watch – lots of prank vids and the like, but they def had some fans in the room. But it was obvious the majority of the attendees were there for Phil, and I noticed him looking around the room at all the people there for him throughout, making eye contact with lots of people. I’m sure he made brief eye contact a couple of times, which made me go !!!!! It was obvious the panelists were at quite different stages of their careers, which was a little dissonant sometimes, but also quite sweet – Phil was very encouraging to the younger, more inexperienced members of the panel, which was very lovely. Lucky them to have such a kind senpai.

After that we only had a quick break (mainly to down water after being boiled to death in the panel room) before it was time to get in line for Phil’s meet and greet. The wait for him to arrive was weirdly fast but also interminably long, and I spent most of it panicking about what I was going to say to Actual Phil Lester in a matter of minutes. 

But soon enough he arrived, shook hands with the photographer, did a lil hop to wave to everyone in the crowd who was waving at him, and then off we went.

I wasn’t sure what to expect – I’ve had pics before with celebs at conventions, and every con is different in how they handle photos. Some really rush you through, but this one was pretty good, I thought – you had plenty of time to say whatever you wanted to say, or give gifts – I thought we were supposed to leave them in a box somewhere, but no, we were to give them directly to Phil, who had a little table to put them on. Obviously I wanted to give him a hug, too, but would I be too awkward to ask for one once I actually got up there, I wondered?

But as it turned out I needn’t have worried; I could watch people meeting him from where we were in the line, and from the very first person, he opened his arms for a big hug from everyone who went up to meet him. Watching people running into his arms was making me really emotional – he just has such a great connection with his people. You could tell he was happy to be there and liked meeting us all. He took so many cute photos with people. We noticed he had a Sharpie and was signing things, which we hadn’t been told about beforehand, so I hadn’t brought anything special - ended up getting him to sign my con badge as a souvenir.

There were 3 of us, and @yikesola took one for the team and volunteered to go first. I watched how much fun they were having, how easily they chatted and hugged and posed for their cute photo and thought to myself, please don’t be a total buffoon when you go up there…

Soon enough it was my turn. Walking up for these things is always nervewracking and awkward – except this time, once it was time, Phil turned around, looked at me, smiled and opened his arms and I knew it would be okay.

I walked over and hugged him, and he probably had to bend down quite a lot, lol. I reached up over his shoulder to hug him, which meant being on tiptoes, of course; as many people have said in the past, he didn’t let go until you did. He was so gentle. <3 I maybe hugged him for a little longer than I might usually with someone I didn’t know because of it; he just has such comforting and welcoming vibes. And no, before anyone asks, I didn’t notice what he smelled like – we were talking about it after and I don’t think any of us did. I don’t in general unless someone’s wearing reasonably strong perfume/cologne, I don’t think, unless I’m hugging them for a really long time. ANYWAY.

The now-famous jacket (which looked so good!!) was soft AF. I handed over my lil gift – he spotted the chocolate and was pretty happy about that.

I then had a little time to talk to him but, like, how do you condense into a few seconds what someone means to you, how much they’ve helped you or how much you appreciate them? So I ended up going with one of the main reasons I came to love Phil so much as a creator – someone around my age still making such fun content. I don’t mean it like, ‘wow, at your age!!’ lol, which I’m not sure he would have appreciated, more like – when you get to a certain age, people often expect you to leave certain interests and behaviours aside (we see it all the time with these ‘ew people over 30 in fandom?? Gross’ posts), and Phil is still being himself and doing what he wants and not letting that affect him, and I just think that’s really great and it’s meant a lot to me. So we talked about that a bit. He said you should be able to be creative at any age. <3 Talking to him wasn’t like I expected – I don’t know what I expected, really, but I thought he might have more of a – nervous energy, maybe? Or just a bit more – y’know, ‘AmazingPhil’? But no, he was chill and confident and had this ease about him that was so comforting in person. I know he’s an introvert and probably holed up on the couch for a week after meeting all those people (hard same), but he really is so good at talking to people and making them feel at ease; everyone looked so happy walking away from him.

About halfway through the convo I had to work really hard to keep my brain on track and not just descend into babbling nonsense because he was looking me in the eye and listening attentively and bruh!!! That is … a hell of a thing! Not only is he so beautiful, but he really listens, and cares about what you’re saying, and is actually interested and not just going ‘uh huh, uh huh …’ like other celebs can do. His expression and demeanour was so friendly and open and welcoming, and honestly I just felt like I could talk to him for hours.

We then posed for the official photo they took, and hugged for it – when I’ve had other photo ops in the past where I’m standing close to the person I’ve been prone to nervous giggling, but this time I felt really relaxed and happy.

And that was it! I reluctantly said goodbye and headed off and was so flustered I a) forgot my little card to collect my photo, the guy had to chase after me, though it looked like everyone was doing that because they were on cloud 9, and b) picked up someone else’s sequin Dan bag from the bag pile. (Which I immediately noticed because I had a keychain and pin on mine, but I mean they *are* identical.) We went to get food and download our photos and watch all the videos we took. Even though I now had pics, I still almost couldn’t believe it was actually real.

And, wow. We were just floating for the rest of the day. It was such a wonderful, positive experience and I’m so glad it worked out that I was able to meet Phil. I didn’t think I could love him more but after that day I definitely did. Obviously, because it’s me, I spent a lot of time thinking about what I said to him and how I said it and was it the right thing and did I say it right and lejslkdjkjfkdhks, but at the end of the day he was lovely, I said more or less what I wanted to say (of course there’s more I’d have wanted to say, but there’s never enough time), and it went wonderfully well. So I really shouldn’t worry too much.

We paid a quick visit to the AP shop booth in the Expo Hall – they didn’t have a ton of stuff but they had all the t-shirts (I think it was just all the t-shirts, corgi jumper, corgi keychains, glitch hoodie), so I bought the yellow Try New Things shirt from Sarah. (And got a free pixel Phil sticker; they really want to get rid of those huh)

The only other Phil-event for the day was his appearance at the Night of Awesome that evening, so we went along for that. Apparently the theme of the evening was ‘collaboration’, so most of the performers didn’t appear by themselves aside from a couple of music acts. But it quickly descended into madness – most of the performances were some sort of challenge which involved the loser getting a pie to the face or gunged – i.e. perfect Saturday night entertainment if you’re ten. So maybe it was more aimed at kids, I thought, until one of the music acts started swearing up a STORM and a load of horrified parents started dragging their kids out while I almost died trying not to laugh. There was a lot of TikTok stuff, but the animators challenge was pretty good and a couple of the music acts were great.

You probably read about the guy who crashed the performance to make an offensive anti-trans joke and then got chased out by security … when I figured out who it was later I wasn’t surprised, he’s done stupider shit in the past, but Vidcon didn’t react very well to it right away. Throughout the event I generally thought security and staff were very good, but they really dropped the ball on this. The music act gamely carried on though, as did a number of other acts after them, and *just* as everyone had pretty much lost the will to live, Phil randomly appeared on stage with Kian and JC (…no, me neither) along with a science Youtuber. Yay! I thought his bit was really cute; kind of random but that made sense when he explained the original plan had gone awry shortly before the show started. He was *so* into it and I thought it was so sweet how, again, he kept looking for his people in the crowd. He was so confident on stage and even when the stuff he was being asked to do was so random and weird he just owned it, went for it and made it funny. Thomas Sanders came on after science!Phil to do a very wholesome set which kind of saved the evening, lol.

And that was the end of Phil day! Naturally we had to order Domino’s in the evening after our emotional and intense day (and to recover from whatever tf most of that concert was). I feel like I’ve become some sort of addict, and now the rest of my existence will be sad and grey until I can hug Phil again (which might well be never). I have peaked. I also remembered what I like so much about (good) conventions; being with your people and feeling so free to express yourself and what you love - between the phannies and the fanders there were so many pride flags, and so many people walking around wearing merch. (Also it was the first con I’d ever been to where there were no cosplayers! Which is unsurprising given it’s youtube fandom, but still – new experience.)

Sunday - Day 3

Sunday we slept in after staying up until like 3am chatting (whoops), so I missed jacksepticeye’s panel but I did get to the Buzzfeed Unsolved/Watcher one, which was really funny. I wish I’d gotten to meet the boys but what can you do. I also went to the Expo Hall and met PJ (who was very nice, and friendly!! But had exactly that nervous energy I was talking about earlier, which I’m more accustomed to when I meet celebs at cons; Phil really is something special), and bought a few enamel pins, because ENAMEL PINS.

And then … the worst bit of any con, people started to leave. :( My 3 roomies left first, which was the worst bit of the weekend. I ended up tagging along with some twitter friends to get coffee, and we ended up sitting around for like 3 hours outside the cloakroom because no one wanted to leave.

We found out about Dan’s half marathon during this time, and I know people have this view of phannies like we’re all obsessive, invasive weirdos who just want to find out things for – I dunno, clout? But honestly everyone there was so proud of him and just like the whole weekend, it was great to be with people who understood. Like, I can hardly tell a co-worker that a youtuber I follow ran a marathon, they’d be like - okay, and…? So it was nice to sit there and sort of – celebrate it, in our own lil way.

We all parted ways on the train - I went back to my friend’s and watched Phil’s liveshow there, which was really a perfect way to end the weekend. I’m glad it sounded like he had such a nice time at Vidcon. Someone tweeted about him seeing all the people who had come to see just him and how excited they were to see him, and that warmed my heart. And hopefully his too.

The next day I returned to the Excel to have pizza lunch with the last two friends who were still in town, which really helped with the post-con blues, and then it really was it. Since then I’ve been hanging out at my friend’s flat and taking a couple of trips out to various shops or whatever, but I’ve mostly been tired and lazy and catching up on sleep a bit.

As I mentioned, I’m now a filthy addict. I will be … keeping an eye on future vidcons/events, for sure. >_> And I might be back in London in April, maybe. >_> many thoughts head full

[georgecrecy]

Living Fossils {1}

Dust sprayed and crackled against the various windows of the shuttle's cabin as it touched down, the thrusters adding little to the dust already swirling from the storm. Within a few moments the shuttle finished the landing process with a slight jostle, and the occupants made their way to the airlock and into their atmospheric suits. The air of this planet wasn't compatible with their lungs, so the suits would come in handy for more than just the particles of sand and small rocks that were assaulting and scraping microscopic gouges into the hull.

As the six lithe figures stepped into the bulky suits, the oldest addressed the others in the airlock antechamber. "Nothing like another outing for our scientific enumeration! Given what I could see of our surroundings, it is a small miracle there is anything left." Another slipped her shoulder into her suit as she rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that's nice and all Doc, but my only surprise will be if I don't die of boredom on this heap of sand." The scientist eyed her with an upraised brow, seeing her clip a gun to it's holster on her side as another, larger carbine hung in the cabinet behind. "I suppose that is why Allnex paid you to join these sorts of expeditions: to spare you from such a terrible end otherwise. And these sorts of finds aren't all that boring, I should hope."

The second mercenary of the group finished putting on his own suit as he quipped, "Oh yeah, nothing gets the blood pumping like another broken vase or some sorta proto-battery. You guys get excited over the smallest things."

Another of the younger females in the group, one of the four wearing a white suit to the two green ones, looked at the male mercenary and said, "That's better than getting all excited for nothing over some Jurgthen, Kenta."

Kenta smiled knowingly, "Murien's only saying that cause her team lost last night and now she owes me."

She blushed a little as she quickly shut her locker, the orange of her team's poster hanging from the inside of the door perhaps being given away. She still turned back to Kenta and shrugged. "Yeah, yeah, I'll pay you after we're back up top."

The doctor cleared his throat as he set the helmet down over his head, "Yes, well, let's get to that, shall we? Mic check please, everyone." A chorus of clicks and beeps sounded through all the helmets, all nodding in acknowledgement. "Excellent. Now, if you take a look at your maps, our target is to our west a few hundred clacks, so it won't be long to get there." As he spoke, the group punched the appropriate button on their wrist consoles to bring up the green light of the hologram. A large green dot was in the center of the map, while a smaller blue triangle represented their position.

One raised their hand, to which the doctor nodded, "Yes, Saffer?" 

Not comfortable with the others' eyes on him, he wriggled on his seat in apprehension. "The structure, Doctor Ghan, do we know what it's for or how it lasted all this time? What the beings were like that built it?"

The doctor shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't, but the evidence points to some intelligence in whatever used to live here. What surface scans we could manage through the storms showed signs of oceans and rivers at one point, which led us to seeing the grid-shaped patterns of many cities. We are here to see how advanced they became and if anything might be worth bringing back for Allnex. Our point of interest is a large collection of metals, perhaps a structure. I know this will be your first bit of field work, but I'm sure there will be plenty to discover." His eyes drifted to the two mercenaries that had clearly started a card game on top of their wrist map holograms. "Broken pottery or otherwise."

The six figures eventually emerged from the vehicle, and after a final reference of their wrist computers, they began to trek through the obscuring storm in a line, the two mercenaries flanking close on either side. Along the way they spotted jagged, unnatural remains of walls, and even the bent remains of metallic signs, long since rusted over to tell what they said or were intended for. They stopped briefly at several spots like these, but were not able to glean much. It didn't help their understanding when as soon as they might spot glimpses of these formations and signs of previous civilization, it was just as soon lost again in the red-tinted maelstrom.

After over an hour, the group spotted their target: a huge, multistory building which stood defiantly against the failing world around it. Sand and rock draped itself in piles and drifts around the large base, while they could see that sections of the walls had crumbled or caved in, exposing some of the upper floors to the elements. "It is a building alright, so the civilization had gotten to at least advanced metallurgy." Doctor Ghan exclaimed to everyone through their helmets. "What do you think, Codru?" The other male student nodded, "Definitely, but to have lasted for several centuries as you estimate since the planet-wide death event is especially impressive. I think Allnex will be very happy with just a sample of the siding for study of its properties, let alone anything inside." 

Hyupi the female mercenary looked around it exasperatedly and said, "Yeah, and speaking of which, how do we get inside, big-shots? Any of the scans reveal a nice door for us?" After a brief but fruitless look around the building as the gale howled around them, the group was about ready to call defeat. They were in the midst of climbing one of the drifts around the base when Saffer suddenly cried out in surprise. The two mercenaries spun in place with their carbines at the ready, but Saffer stood up with embarrassment clearly on his face through the glass of his helmet. "Sorry everyone, I tripped on a rock or something."

Murien was behind him, and was pointing at Saffer's feet. "Or something is right, look! It's the corner of something metal!"

The group converged excitedly on the two, as Murien and Saffer dug with their hands into the drift, exposing a little more of a wall and roof. The doctor's face bore a gratified smile. "Thank goodness for a bit of clumsiness, Saffer! This might be our way in. Quick, get out the shovels!" 

Taking out small folding shovels from their backpacks, they began to take turns excavating the sand and dirt away from the outcropping, and even the mercenaries showed some enthusiasm of discovery as they took part in the digging, though the environmentals in the suits could do little to negate the sweat from both their exertions and the sweltering heat.

After a short while, a door was revealed for their efforts, the senior student Codru was even able to discover a pad to the left of the door. As he brushed the last dirt away with his hand, through the dusty screen he could see it pulse with light, the screen showing unrecognizable symbols. Over the comms channel his surprise was immediately evident. "Uh, Doctor Ghan? You might want to look at this."

From over his right shoulder, Ghan could just see the pad. "Ah, they had some computer technology as well? Interesting."

Codru shook his head, "No sir. Look, it still has power!"

Ghan was at his side as fast as his bulky suit would allow, while the others all gathered behind him. Looking at the pad which still shone visibly through the crust of dirt and dust which coated the face of it, the doctor was amazed. "That means we are at least dealing with a nascent Type A civilization! There must be a fusion or even antimatter energy source inside the building! Oh, well done everyone! Well done indeed!"

Hyupi left the gathering and sat to one side against the side of the little valley they had dug out, her hand leaning her carbine against her body. "Well, sounds great doc, but what's a Type A?"

Saffer was practically giddy with excitement as he explained, "With any civilization there are metrics to understand it's progress. Type A is part of one scale of measurement we commonly use. It describes a civilization that is using all the possible energy of its planet. Type B, which we more closely relate to, use all the energy of their solar system, and so on."

Doctor Ghan was already busy taking pictures of the screen as he interjected, saying, "Yes, but there are a lot of ways for things to go wrong; lots of checks to get past. Most don't get near this far. Disease, war, climate upheaval, all can end things prematurely, as likely happened here."

Kenta looked at his wrist pad readouts as he said, "I'm sorry to cut things short, but we need to get back to the shuttle, we don't have much time left on our respirators to stick around. Pack it up everyone. I don't know about any of you but a shower seems like a real treat right now."

As the rest packed up and reformed to move out, Saffer was the last in line, reluctantly packing his backpack with his supplies and shovel. His body thrummed with excitement at the possibilities which seemed to tantalize him from inside the vault-like structure. Here was everything that made him want to be a xeno-archaeologist in a neat, metallic package. As he slipped one of the straps of his pack over the shoulder of his suit and turned to join the group, he thought he saw a flicker of movement from the pad out of the corner of his eye. He stared at the screen, but it still showed the same set of symbols as before. He jumped as his comms crackled with Kenta's voice. "Hey kid, come on! Move it."

He shook his head. "Sorry, coming!" It was just his imagination and excitement overcoming his senses. His mother always warned him about his excitable personality. He stamped up the side of their valley as sand cascaded down in his wake, and rejoined the others as they trekked back to the shuttle.

The wind whipped past as reddish dirt danced in convoluted twists through the air. The pad next to the door flickered, and instead of the previous symbols an alien face appeared, looking at the retreating back of the young student as he tramped up the side of the dug valley and disappeared over the top. A smile creeped over the alien face before the screen blinked, returning to black as dust once more accumulated over it.

[tenaciousarcadeexpert]

Criminal Minds-The Good Ol Days

Tagging: @marvelfanlife, @itsmeedee, @cynbx, @jaqren, @gabriellewritermua, @princesswagger15, @screaminginbi, @tleighstone12, @cosmicmelaninflower

A collaboration fic with @princesswagger15​

Chapter 8-The Cabin in the Woods

The walk in the forest was quiet as usual than the last time, given that there were a couple of whispers the last time when they followed Rossi either the hangovers left them tired in speaking up or possibly staying in silent ashamed on whatever atrocity they might have done during or after the party. Garcia paced herself as she tries to avoid Luke in the eye and whenever she tries to take a little glance, he looks at her back, prompting her to hide away.

   Meanwhile, JJ was walking, along with the others when she notices Elle being far from them, nearly distancing herself. She then approaches her, seeing that her arms were in her pocket.

“You okay?”

“What?” “You seemed to be keeping your distance away from the others.” She shoulder nudges her. “Come on, tell me. What’s eating you?” “N-nothing, just feeling a bit tipsy today.” “I see. Yeah, the party has been messing with our brains today. It’s as if we couldn’t think or see things straight, you get what I mean?” Elle nodded. “Yeah, I get what you’re saying.” The two girls chuckled, tho as they are walking, Elle scrunched her nose as she sniffs around for an odd chemical smell.

“Uhh Elle, what seems to be the problem?” JJ awkwardly asks.

“D-do you smell that?”

“Uhhh smell what?” She leans back as Elle leaned over and smelled the air around her, covering her nose.

“Damn JJ, why the hell do you smell like bleach?”

“Uhhhhhh………..intense dorm cleaning?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Well, whatever that is, could you go easy on that next time?”

“Uhh yea s-sure, sorry.”

“Cool.” The two girls then try to catch up with the others just as they walk further into the forest. Soon, they would see a small cabin, the same cabin they saw the other night.

“Here it is, the cabin.” Hotch said as he and the gang look on. “Seems pretty small.” Emily replies.

“Yet comfy.” Garcia adds. “Looks pretty cute.”

“Yeah well…..shall we?” Everyone all nods in agreement as they walk towards the cabin, looking around to make sure that they weren’t being followed. “Ooo, it looks so cozy inside.” Garcia gushed, looking through the window.” “You sure we should even be here??” Reid asks.

“He’s got a point I mean, how do we know that there’s no one inside?” Tara adds.

“I just hope that we can’t get inside.” Reid whispers.

“Reid, calm down. There’s something Professor Rossi is hiding from us and whatever is in this cabin is our only clue.” Hotch reassures him. “How do you know that we won’t get caught from this?” Ashley asks.

“And how do you know that there’s even anything to be looking for?” Emily asks.

“I don’t know. All I know is that this cabin is our answer to whatever our teacher is hiding from us. We just need to figure out what it is.”

“Maybe Rossi is hiding something from us because he’s trying to protect us?” JJ says.

“From what? What could he possibly be protecting us from?” Kate asks.

“Again, I don’t know. I don’t know, okay? So can we just stop asking questions?” The group as all silent. “Good. We’re getting inside this cabin.” Hotch turns the door handle a few times. “Dammit, it's locked.” “Aww, that's a bummer, let's go-” Reid said as he tried to walk away only for Derek to grab him.

“No no no no no.” Just then, Derek noticed something peeking beneath the doormat and bends down to lift the doormat up, revealing something small and shiny and picking it up. “Wow…...well, here's the key.” “Oooo, thanks.” He then takes the key. Ashley raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, but Why keep a hidden key underneath a doormat? That's such a stupid idea.” Reid shrugged his shoulders. “ Beats me.” Just then, they heard Hotch crack open the door. “There......we're in.” “Why can’t we just go to the river. Like I feel like we’d be better off just talking there.” Reid said as he hesitated to walk inside. “Because there's nothing valuable in the river? Plus whatever Rossi is hiding from us is in this cabin, not the river.” Emily says while walking in the house. Tara then pats him on the back. “Gotta keep up young man.”

“It’ll be fine.” Derek responds as the gang all head inside, including Reid. There, they saw how rustic and lean the interior was. It looked like what the inside of a cabin would usually look: brown and beige furniture, a brick chimney, and souvenirs made from wild animals that hang around the walls. There was nothing too special about it, it was just a simple log cabin.

“Wow, it looks so cozy in here.” Garcia gushed. “I know right. Smells like winter in here.”  Emily adds.

“I swear I’d never leave here.” JJ says.

“Me either.” “Anyway, we should all look around for clues, find something that’s you know……………..useful.” Hotch interrupts.

“What exactly is ‘useful’?” Reid asks.

“Like a photo? A journal? Anything?”

“And what if we don’t find anything?” Ashley asks?

“Then we go back to campus and theorize.” Just then Derek walks up to Hotch. “I just hope that you’re right about this. Cause if we end up getting in trouble just for some little assumptions you have, we can get into some serious shit man.”

“I know, I know.” Hotch responds. “Let’s just look around quickly before it gets dark. Someone should also keep a lookout at the front door incase Rossi or Barnes get back here.”

“Luke, Elle can you guys keep watch?”

“Uh, sure we can do that.” Luke then turns to Elle. “You okay with that?” “Y-yeah, I’m fine.”

“Alright, let’s scatter!” The gang heads off in many directions, looking around to find something “suspicious”. They search through doors, shelves and even the bedrooms in the cabin.

“Did you find something?” JJ asked Reid as they look in the living room of the cabin, scrimiging through books on the bookshelves.

“Not really, did you?” “No…….just a bunch of old literature, and wow, they look pretty authentic, ”

“Anything inside the books?”

“No, noth-hey, look at this.” She then pulls out an old photo and hands it to Reid. “Wow, that’s Rossi and Gideon.” “I know.” Just then, Reid squints his eyes and noticed something behind the photo. “There is one thing the photograph must contain, the humanity of the moment.” — Robert Frank

“Wow.” JJ responds. “What do you think it means?” “I don’t know, but by the looks of this picture, it was probably during a happy moment.”

 “Found anything?” Garcia asked as she and Derek go through several cabinets and shelves in the kitchen.

“Nope, nada.” he replies, prompting Garcia to sigh. Just as the two continued looking, Derek suddenly stops to take a look at what’s inside. “Well, what do you know.

“What?” Garcia says.

“Look what we got here.” He then pulls out two pints of ice cream.”

“Is that?” “Yep, chocolate and cookie dough. Shall we?” “Ooo Garcia clapped and grabbed a couple of spoons as Derek placed the two pints on the table. “I wonder which ones shall we try-” “Put the ice cream away.” The two teens then looked to see Hotch standing  across from them.

“Why?!”

“DO you want us to get caught? You know that Rossi’s gonna know that somebody has broken into the cabin and it won’t be long till he finds out that it’s us.”

“Oh cOme On MaN!”

“Please, just one scoop?” Garcia begged.

Hotch glares at them. “PuT………..tHe…………...IcE CrEAM………….aWaY…………...now.”

“WHAT THIS HUH? THE MURDER WEAPON???? GEt Off OuR DiCks!!!!!”

Hotch then facepalms. “Guys, I’m being serious. Put the ice cream away right now!”

“We’re serious too!!” Garcia screams. “Come on Hotch, please, pretty please????” She begged.

“I’m sorry Garcia, but no. Put the ice cream back where you found it. We’ll go buy ice cream once we’re done here. I don’t wanna take any chances and neither should the two of you. Better safe than sorry.”

Both Derek and Garcia looked at each before closing the lids and putting the ice cream back into the fridge. “Now that’s much better.” Hotch responds. “Now let’s get back to work.”

“Bitch.” Derek whispers to himself.

“I heard that.”

“DAMN! I didn't even say anything!” Derek rolled his eyes. “Ass hat.” He whispers again.

Hotch rolled his eyes and walked away, muttering in dismay.

Somewhere, Tara and Emily were in what appears to be a bedroom as they look through some drawers and other shelves.

“I don’t get why we’re doing this.”

“We need to see what he’s hiding from us.” Emily says, scriminaging through drawers. “I know, but it just feels wrong, invading a person’s personal property. What if we finding nothing at all?”

“Then we all brainstorm and come up with something else, its simple math Tara.” Tara sighs. “Okay then.” She then looks around as she saw picture frames and old memorabilia of their fellow professor.

“Well well well, look at these.”

“What is it?”

“Pictures of Rossi and some memorabilia here. He looks a lot younger here.” She then squints her eyes. “Is that……...Ringo Starr?”

“Looks like him and woah……” Emily then picked up a frame. “A vintage poster signed by Stan Lee?”

“Holy fuck, just….wow.”

“I know right, quite the star power for a teacher………………...anyway, we should focus on finding some things.”

“Hey, wait a second…….is that a purple heart medal?” “Looks like it. Wait…….woah.” The two girls then noticed a frame containing different varieties of medals shown hanging above his desk.

“Seems like our professor is a military veteran.”

“Damn, he’s a badass.”

“Yea…you think we check everywhere in this room? Seems clean.”

“I don’t think we check the ow-”

“You alright Em?”

“Yeah, I’m fine….I just tripped on a loose floorboard, that’s all.

“Should we check it?” Tara repeatedly steps on the floorboard, feeling something squeaking as she bends down and lifts a part of it. “I think there’s something underneath. The floorboard is much looser here.” Emily nods as the two girls carefully lift up the floorboard.

“What the hell?” There, they saw several folders, a gun and what appears to be a wallet, only for Tara to pick it up and open it, revealing a badge.   “SSA David Rossi.”

“Hey, isn't what those agents introduced themselves as on our trip?”

“It is, it looks exactly like the badges those agents carry. I wonder why Rossi has a badge like they do…….unless….”

“He happens to be one of them.”

“So our professor is an FBI agent? You know, I’m willing to bet that Gideon was one too.”

“It’s possible. I wonder what else professor is hiding from us. Seems like he’s not the man that we thought he was.”

“Yea but he may be even better.”

“Hmmmm, maybe so.” The two took another look at the badge. “We should tell the others about this.”

“We should, they have to know about this.”

          Elsewhere, Matt, Kate and Ashley were in another bedroom, though like the others, their trail leads to a dead end.

“Well this sucks, so much for finding anything suspicious.” Kate complains. “This looks like any other bedroom I’ve seen before. The reason I know that is because I’ve been inside my grandparents home a few times.”

“I don’t get it……..Hotch said that he was hiding something...except we don’t know what it is and where it is.”

“So Matt, you’re basically saying that we came all the way here for nothing……….nice.” “I wouldn’t say that…...if I recall in class, a good suspect always makes sure to not leave any loose ends behind. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s this good at hiding any source of evidence.” “Guess so.” As the two continue to discuss on the consideration of their professor concealing any relevant information from them, they took notice of Ashley, who was staring at an old painting of a boat for who knows how long.

“Uh Ashley, you’ve been staring at that painting for fifteen minutes. The least you can do is help us.” “Sorry Kate.” She responds, shaking her head. “I just couldn’t help but notice something.” “Well, it’s a pretty painting.” Matt responds.

“Yeah, pretty authentic.” Kate adds. “But what does this painting have that could possibly help us? Does it have a symbolic meaning or anything?”

“Hmmmm, not exactly.” Ashley squint her eyes as she walked up to the painting hanging on the wall. Slightly moving it back to reveal a brown stain mark. She then takes the painting down, much to her friends’ dismay.

“Ashley, what are you-” Both Kate and Matt gasped as they notice a hidden compartment behind the painting. “There.” She cautiously, reached into the compartment, picking up something brown and made of leather. She then wipes off all the dust and cobwebs that covers the item. “It looks like a journal.”

“Yeah, it does and seeing where he keeps his journal means that there’s something valuable inside it.”

 At the same time, Luke and Elle continue to keep watch. While looking outside, the two were silent, not knowing what to say to each other as they rarely interact, let alone make casual conversations with one another.

“Soooooooooooo…..are you fond of being outdoors in the woods?” Luke awkwardly asked. “Are you trying to make a conversation with me?” Elle responds, surprised that Luke wants to talk to her. “Well I uh-” “It’s fine. It’s getting pretty boring lately, doing nothing but keep watch.” “Yeah, well I bet the others are having more fun than we are.” “Yeah no shit.” She chuckled.

“Are you from New York?” Elle raised an eyebrow when Luke asks her. “I-I cause of your accent, but I apologize if you-”

“It’s fine…...and yes, I’m from New York, are you?” “Yep.” He nods. “I’m from the Bronx.” “Cool, I’m from Queens. Are you Puerto Rican?” “I am, how did you-” “Just wondering.” “Are you also Puerto Rican?” “No, Cuban, half.” “Oooo nice.”

 The two smiled on, bonding over being from New York. Just then, the moment is suddenly interrupted to the sounds and sight of a car driving up where they are. “Uh Luke.....are you seeing what I'm seeing?” She asked as they look out from outside.

“Oh shit!”

“We need to tell the others now!”

“The two run back inside, startling Garcia and Derek as they exit the kitchen.”

“Luke, what the hell-”

“SOMEONE IS DRIVING UP HERE.” He then points towards the window as they see a car driving by.”

“Oh no oh no oh no oh no!!!!!!!!!” Garcia stammered, frantically walking around in a panic. At the same time, Reid and JJ walked out of the room when they heard screaming

“What the hell is going on?” JJ asked.

“Someone's coming!!” Elle shouts.

Reid gasps and panics. “OH MY GOD!!!! OH MY GOD!!!!!! OH MY GO-”

“Calm down.” Derek then grabs Reid by the arms. “We just need to tell the others-”

“Tell the others what?” Hotch asked as he and Matt walked in as they overheard their conversation. Just then, they hear the sound of the car from outside.

“Ohhhhh shiiiiiiiiiiiitttttt!”

Hotch then looked to his friend. “Get the others.”

Matt nods as he runs back to find the others. He then rushed to the bedroom when he sees Tara and Emily inside.

“Guys we got a situation! Someone's coming!

“Shit......Shit SHIT!!” Emily screams as she and Tara realized that Rossi might be back.

“WE'RE FUCKKKKEDDDD!” Tara panicked.

“Well, if we hurry, then we can still make a run for it.” The two girls nodded as they got up and run out into the living room.

“GUYS WE HAVE TO RUN! NOW!” Hotch yells as Matt, Tara, and Emily join the others. “Is this everyone?”

“Wait! Where's Ashley and Kate?!” JJ asked.

“Oh shit.” Matt groans, realizing that he forgot to warn them.

“KATE! ASHLEY!”

Just then, Kate and Ashley both storm into the room with the others, struggling to put the painting back to where it belongs as they storm out the room.

“Uhh w-what happened?” Ashley asked as she and Kate rejoined the group.

“We have a situation here, someone is outside.” Garcia responds.

Just then they all hear car doors slamming.  “Oh no oh no, they're coming, they're coming!”

“We need to get the hell out of here now!” Emily screeched.

“Did anyone see a back door somewhere?” Hotch asked.

“Wait there's one, in the kitchen.” Derek responds.

“Well, what are we waiting for, GO!” Elle blurts out.

They all ran into the kitchen, where they see the backdoor and rush as they heard the doorknob turn from outside. They all try to exit, but not without some minor issues.

“Dammit Matt, go!”

“Quit shoving me Kate!” “Ow.” Garcia groans. “You just stepped on my foot heathen.” “Sorry.”

As Reid tries to run out, he accidentally trips on the table.

“DAMMIT REID!” Derek screeched as he helped him up, only to accidentally push Elle.

“Derek, you just elbowed me!” “Sorry Elle”

“Guys just shut up and start moving!”

“Guys, come on!” JJ begged as the team exit out the backdoor. She was the last person out as she makes sure that everyone got out before looking back and exits, closing the door as she leaves. Just then, the front door was unlocked as Rossi and Blake enter the cabin.

“So remind me again why I had to let you choose.”

“Come on Dave, it was your idea to bring me to-” They suddenly heard a small screech. “What the hell was that?”

“Sounds like it’s coming from the kitchen.” The two head to the kitchen, where it looked the same as it was when they left it, only to notice the table slightly moved an inch to where it originally was. “You don’t think someone must’ve broken inside.”

“I don’t know…...but I have a bad feeling about this.” He then looked to Blake. “Check the bedrooms.” She nods and the two scatter, going through each room as they sense that someone broken inside the cabin, whom everything is present as usual, though some of the books have been misplaced and touched. Rossi then stopped in his office as he checked to see that his former FBI credentials are still intact. All seemed well, till Blake stormed into his office. “Dave, we got a problem.” “What is it?” “I checked behind the painting and…….it’s gone.” Rossi’s eyes widen as he realized what she meant. “Whoever was here could’ve taken it with them.” “No. no, no” Rossi groaned as he rubs his face in frustration. “If Linda gets her hand on it.” “I know, I know…….all hell breaks loose.” “We need to find it before she does.” “But how? We don’t even know who went here.” “Leave that to me.” He looks down at the hidden compartment underneath the floorboard, pointing out the loose floorboard sticking out from its place. “Whoever it was wasn’t smart enough to cover their tracks.”

[omegaverse-council]

Handle With Care

(TW for mentions of domestic abuse and the at least semi-dystopic OD AU.) In which a tired, used omega’s life falls apart, his son seems determined to repeat the same tragedies, and the next door neighbor is armed with casseroles.  Everyone is stubborn, and nothing is easy. But Brin has had worse, so it’s all good.

“Mr. Hill?”   

Brin jerked his eyes away from the poster on the wall.  There should be a limit to pastels in rooms like these, he’d decided. Enough of it, and it felt like you’d developed some sort of milky film over your eyes and couldn’t see the colors properly anymore.  “Yes,” Brin answered.  He was distantly surprised by the sound of his own voice.

“If you’ll just sign here, you and your children will be provided for.  The city’s welfare programs are very generous, you know, after all…”

Don’t say these things happen, Brin thought.

“…After all, these things happen.”

“Right,” Brin agreed. The mark on the back of his neck—a mark which had been there for almost ten years now—suddenly ached.  It would keep doing that, apparently.  Something about the bonding hormones and omega psychology.  Then they’d gone on about the drugs he was eligible for now that Cross was…

 …gone.

Brin signed the paper.  What did he have to be stubborn about, anyway?

“And this,” the social worker said, producing another sheet covered in illegible text, “This will give us permission to place you with other eligible alphas.  I’m not saying there won’t be a few heats that will still be, ehm, difficult—“

It was like glass. Perfectly quiet, perfectly still—and when it became something else, the absence of its silence was like a slap in the face.  That was how Brin shattered.  

His teeth bared in a snarl.  “No,” he growled to the intruder, the offending paper balled up in his fist.  His other hand was still ringing from how hard he’d struck the wooden desk between them, “I will never take another alpha.”

— 

Life proceeded to spectacularly ignore that Brin was now bereaved.  He was now one of those mournful creatures that haunted the fringes of society.  Head down and with wide-eyed figments of another life shuffling along behind, dependent and helpless.  The oh-so-precious omega, scarcer than the alphas who would vie for him, excused from the competition now because if he could take another mate, he’d have done so already.  He must be one of the ones with a faulty loyalty instinct that wouldn’t accept the loss of his alpha.  Nothing anyone could do!  Poor thing. Poor thing.  At least this way he could keep his children.

The welfare check came in.  They moved to another, smaller apartment (one without a balcony).  Destin took his first steps.  And Brin passed his heats alone, biting a leather strap to contend with the pain.  Had to do it. He’d had worse.

 —

 The biggest problem in Brin’s new life, though, was Vadze.

This was about as shocking as you’d imagine.

“Fuck you,” Brin’s eldest snapped, performing a complicated salute that ended in two middle fingers and Vadze’s most acerbic sneer.  Brin had to hand it to the kid—pint-sized Vadze may have been, but anyone would have found that grimace menacing.  Vadze’s little sister, still too young to talk, cringed against Brin’s hip. “I don’t have to do shit!  You want someone to go to school so bad, why don’t you do it, Mom?”

Vadze had also worked out how to make ‘mom’ the most gruesome of his florid insults.  This accomplishment had coincided with the kid presenting as an omega himself.  

“I know, honey,” Brin said, trying to sound wise and authoritative instead of dead tired from how many times the twins had woken him up last night, “That’s why I want you to graduate.  I want better for you—”

Vadze slammed his plate down with a hiss.  Without another word, he went stalking for the door.  

…Brin was going to hazard a guess here and assume that Vadze wasn’t headed for the bus stop.

“I’ll be back sometime tomorrow,” Vadze growled over his shoulder.  “Don’t wait up.”

“But—“

The door slammed. Two rooms over, Destin began to cry. Brin groaned in the back of his throat. It was going to take forever to get Destin back to sleep.  He retreated towards the dim interior of the nursery to get the job started.  

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Seril called from the kitchen.  “I’ll get Sable and Kyr ready for school—c’mon, guys.  Cereal or toast?”

“Toast!”

“Pancakes!”

— 

There was no point in worrying over Vadze, though.  Even when he was younger, Vadze hadn’t ever asked Brin for help.  Not once.  Not even when—

—so anyway, even knowing that his baby had presented as an omega, and even with Vadze staying out all night doing heaven-only-knew-what, Brin couldn’t worry about it the same way he would have if had been someone else.  He didn’t think Vadze was going to come back strung out or brutalized by some gang.  If anything, he was more concerned about Vadze getting dragged home by the police. If Cross had been the sire, Brin would have said Vadze had inherited his father’s temper.

And when a stranger came knocking at the door and wasn’t a drone in a monkey suit to check in on the kids, or an insurance salesman, or a particularly intrepid elementary school teacher trying to meet all the parents, but asked, “Are you Vadze’s mother?”  Yeah, Brin didn’t feel the stab of fear he really should have, just a jaded sense of resignation.  Maybe he was getting old.

He crossed his arms over the worst of the stains on his sweater.  “That’s me,” he sighed, “What’s he done this time?”

“Oh no,” said the stranger, blinking.  “No, I’m here to thank you.”

“Um,” Brin said, blinking back.  “…Vadze Hill?”

The stranger laughed. Brin suddenly felt a lot more self-conscious about his messy sweater.

“I’m Raifa,” he said, extending a hand to Brin.  Upon penetrating Brin’s personal space, it smelled of ink and heavy fog.  A beta, Brin registered distantly, and felt himself relax a fraction more as he shook it.  “Good to meet you.  Your son has been looking after my daughter.  I really appreciate it.”

Brin blinked again.

— 

“So what’s this I hear?”  Brin asked when he saw Vadze again (two days later.  Vadze had been home since then, but only by virtue of his dishes in the sink and rumpling on his side of the bed that he shared with his younger brother).

Vadze, upon being addressed unexpectedly, froze.

It was 3 AM and Vadze was wearing his warmest hoodie.  He had one arm in the fridge, the other shoving a baggie of carrots into his pocket. The kitchen light, which Brin had just flicked on, reflected off Vadze’s wide—and guilty—eyes.  Brin’s jaw tightened.

“You have six other siblings, but you can’t be bothered to help out with them.  And you go and adopt a new one?”

Vadze’s head lowered, but not in a show of submission. It was like a dog preparing to bite. “None of your fucking business, Mom.”  He defiantly shoved another bag of food into his pocket.  “You’re spying on me now?”

“A neighbor visited,” Brin answered.  Vadze cut him off with a sharp, nasty laugh.

“Right.  I could have guessed.”

Please do not make me decipher your bullshit, Brin thought, rubbing at his aching neck.  I’m so damn tired.  What he said was, “Vadze.  It’s the middle of the night.  Go back to bed.”

“Back at you,” Vadze snapped.  “I’ll be back whenever.  Don’t wait up.”

Brin just put his head in his hands.  If he tried to stop Vadze from going, Vadze would yell, and the babies would wake up again, and the circles under the other kids’ eyes would get worse.  It was like being held hostage.  That Vadze didn’t slam the door behind him was a miracle.

— 

“Coming, coming!” Brin hurriedly slapped his hands with the towel—it did him no good whatsoever, because he’d been doing dishes long enough for the towel to be soaked through—and darted to the door. He stepped on something (who had left their pencil on the entryway floor?  Agh!) and nearly tripped.  By the time he got the door open, the fist was poised to knock again.  “Sorry, I’m so sorry,” Brin babbled, “I didn’t hear you—well, I mean, I heard you, but I thought it was something else—“  He blinked. “You’re not social services.”

“Er,” said Raifa, looking just as surprised as Brin.  “Should I be?”

“…No,” said Brin, who had been waiting half the day for them to show up already.  They were supposed to check on the kids.  He’d just gotten started with the dishes—well, except for the fact that he’d been doing them for nearly two hours by now.  Brin groaned a little and let his head thunk against the doorjamb.  They weren’t coming, were they?  “Has the world changed after I was mated?  Is punctuality for suckers?”

“God, I hope not,” Raifa said, “If it is, then my boss at work has really had me fooled.”

Brin cast a rather pitying look at the young man on his doorstep.  Big dark eyes still brimming with hope and optimism, an apologetic smile that belonged in a cartoon—not the adult kind, but the one where they taught you a moral platitude at the end—and a crisp, tidy polo shirt that was quite at odds with the heart-pattern potholders.

Wait.

Brin lifted his head from the doorjamb.  “Is that a casserole?”  He asked, incredulous.

“Yes?”  Raifa said, as though he doubted his own answer. “Does your family like casseroles? I should have asked.  I have brownies downstairs if you want those instead!”

It was a casserole, and it was for Brin’s family.

…Huh.

“Want to come in?” Brin finally asked, vaguely remembering that yes, this was how humans interacted.  Words.  He waved a hand belatedly.

“Yes, please,” Raifa said, and then, “It’s actually still really hot and I’m kind of burning my hands.”  

“Shoot,” said Brin, springing away from the doorjamb.

— 

Raifa needn’t have worried about whether or not Brin’s family ate casseroles.  Brin’s family would probably eat the kitchen table and chairs, given enough hot sauce and butter.  The casserole was a big hit.  Sable and Temer fought viciously over the last slice until Brin cut it in half for them. Even Brin had to admit it was delicious.

Raifa had puffed up proudly when questioned about his cooking skills.  “No, I’m pretty sure you guys will like it,” he said.  “I mean, it’s shameless bribery.  I don’t get to spend a lot of time with my daughter, so I wanted to give her a reason to look forward to sitting down at dinner with me.  I’ve been practicing ever since.”

He gave Brin the brownies too, which Brin hid in the back of the fridge for later, aware that the mongrel hoards would descend otherwise.  It would be nice to have something special for Seril’s birthday and if the quality of the casserole was anything to go by, those brownies would be heavenly.

“Are you sure?” Brin had asked upon being confronted with additional baked goods, even though he was itching to relieve Raifa of all that chocolaty goodness.

“I’m sure,” the beta had laughed, “I had no idea your family was so big!  I should have brought two casseroles!”

“You don’t have to, you know,” Brin had pointed out anxiously on Raifa’s way out.  He hadn’t stayed long, so Brin hadn’t been forced to unearth his small talk.  Just long enough for Raifa to compliment Brin on his home and coo over the cuteness of the (napping) twins.  After all, Raifa wanted to hurry back to get dinner ready for his daughter.  “I haven’t done anything for you.  If anything, you should be feeding Vadze, right?”

“I promise I’ll feed him too, if he’ll ever sit still long enough,” Raifa answered cheerfully. As he went downstairs he waved goodbye to Brin so enthusiastically that Brin’s own hand lifted a little in response.

“…Weird guy,” Brin observed, mouth quirked at the edges.

— 

 “Hey Mom!” Seril came bounding out of his bedroom first thing, startling Brin into narrowly-averted tragedy at the coffee maker. Seril’s fingers were sticky.  He smelled like chocolate.  

Oh no, thought Brin.

“Did you make brownies for my birthday?!”  Seril asked excitedly.

“Um,” said Brin.

This proved sufficient for Seril, who threw his arms around Brin’s waist and hugged him tight. “Thank you!”  He exclaimed.  “They were really good!  And don’t worry, everybody got one.  Yours is over here!”  He towed Brin away from the coffee maker.

“That’s great, honey, but, uh—“  Brin searched for the correct phrasing.  “—How exactly did you know I made you brownies?”

“Vadze told me!”  Seril announced cheerfully.  “He found where you hid them, but don’t worry, he didn’t take any extra.  He’s really nice today!”

As it turned out, Vadze also had vanished from Seril’s impromptu 6 AM party before Brin could have a word with him, but Brin wasn’t exactly surprised.  As far as Vadze’s ideas of a celebration went, this was tame. Last year, Brin had gotten to return shoplifted video games.

— 

There were always consequences, though, and Brin’s came in the form of Temer’s pleading glances and less-than-subtly dropped hints.  

If homemade brownies were awarded for Seril’s birthday, so too must they be awarded at Temer’s, lest it be tacitly understood that mom loved Seril more.

During Raifa’s last visit, Brin had gotten his apartment number (third floor, 418) and that weekend he headed over.  Brin was wearing something conspicuously undecorated with baby vomit or crayons, he had a wad of bills in his back pocket to pay for at least some of the lesson, and he was hoping that society’s ingrained need to take care of the poor, unfortunate omega would be enough to guilt Raifa into submission.  He’d left Seril in charge, which should give him a minimum of three hours before everything dissolved into chaos.

Brin had prepared a speech too, one that started off jovial and then gradually tapered off into attempted blackmail.  He even had two versions: one for Raifa, and one for Raifa’s mate.

However, when Brin knocked, neither of the adults answered the door, but a tiny, poofy-haired creature in overalls.  She’d tied a striped bath towel around her shoulders like a cape.  As Brin stared, she flung it out with her arms with a gwaaaohr of menace.  She had Raifa’s big, dark eyes.

“Fear me, interloper!”  She exclaimed.  “And what do you want?”

She was absolutely precious.  Every single omega instinct of Brin’s clicked on and threatened to make him melt.

“Um,” he said uselessly.  Oh god, he couldn’t blackmail a child.  He’d probably just go to the store and buy her brownies.  

“Gaila,” came a call from further in the house.  “You’re taking too long and I’m hiding all your puzzle pieces.  Who’s at the door?”  

“Some guy looking like Cousin It!”  Gaila howled back at an impressive volume.  Brin winced. He was still shaking it off as Raifa charged up the stairs.  Gaila peered up at him.  “What’s your name, Mister?”

“Um,” said Brin.

“Oh my god,” Raifa said, and scooped Gaila up one-armed.  She obligingly kicked her heels out and made fwoosh noises to indicate her mastery of the power of flight. “I’m so sorry, Brin!  I thought you were just another neighbor or something—“

“—I am, though?”

“—How are you?” Raifa went on bravely.  “I, uh, really didn’t expect you to come visit me. Is everything okay?”

Craaaaap, thought Brin, experiencing a revelation—Raifa had mentioned how little he got to spend time with his daughter, and here Brin was trying to interrupt.

“I mean, I’m really happy you did visit,” Raifa was still babbling.  “I’m probably being rude right now.  So rude. Here, come in.”  He proceeded to usher Brin inside so effectively that Brin failed to make a single excuse to skulk back upstairs.  Gaila, apparently tired of flight, wriggled until Raifa set her down, then sped off.

Raifa shook his head after her.  “Oh boy.  Sorry for subjecting you to that, Brin.  She can be a bit much.”

“Have you met Vadze?”  Brin retorted.  “She’s adorable.  Gaila, right? How old is she?”

“Nine,” Raifa answered.

“Nine and eight months!”  Gaila retorted from around a corner, then vanished with another whirl of her cape.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” Raifa said fondly.  “Your father is but a fool.  Nine and eight months.”  To Brin he added, mouthing quietly, “She’s already excited about presenting.”

Brin found himself smiling a little.  Everyone was at that age.  “What does she want to be?”

This prompted a histrionic sigh, “Well, for the longest time she wanted to be a beta. You know, like her poor old man. But now that she’s met your son, I’m afraid she has become fickle. My child decided that alphas are better.”

Ouch.  Well, hopefully not.  Gaila’s crush would be doomed.  Vadze despised alphas.

“She wants to be just like him,” Raifa added.

Brin choked a little. “—like him?”

“Yeah,” Raifa said, “I mean, she’s determined to be taller and everything, but it’s not like Vadze is finished growing either.”

Oh, Vadze, Brin thought, chest squeezing.  What did you tell them?  And then, after a moment’s pondering, he thought more indignantly, And you took off your collar too, didn’t you.  We’re going to have a talk about that…

No possible way that wouldn’t end in a screaming match.  Brin shoved the thought aside.  

“So what’s up?” Raifa asked.  “Not an emergency, I hope!  Because if it is an emergency, then I just spectacularly wasted your time by going on and on.  Um.”

“Nothing like that,” Brin assured him.  “I just—“ His speech had deserted him. Typical.  Time to wing it.  “Show me how to make brownies?”

Raifa blinked at him.

“I can pay you!” Brin blurted, tactful as ever.

Gaila stuck her head around the bend again.  “Brownies? I want some!”

— 

And that was how Brin wound up making brownies in Raifa’s kitchen.  Somehow, the money never made it out of his back pocket.  He went home covered in flour, his one nice shirt stained with batter, and Raifa at his side, carrying the second dish.  They’d gone a little wild.  Gaila had promised to guard the third dish with her life. Brin figured the dish would be significantly and helpfully lighter when they returned for it.

(That was okay. Admittedly, he was planning on ‘forgetting’ that brownie dish like Raifa had ‘forgotten’ his instructor’s fee.)

“You know, you’re actually really good at this,” Raifa said.

“What, going up stairs?”  Brin snorted. “Yeah, I got that online degree.”

“No, the cooking thing,” Raifa laughed.  “Handling kids.  I think Gaila loves you more than me.  I’m jealous.”

Brin nearly stopped to stare at him.  Jealous?

“Do you want me to babysit?”  He hazarded. He didn’t mind.  Gaila was adorable—plus, what was one more?

“Nah.  Not at all,” Raifa laughed.  “I mean, I think I’d be in for an epic tantrum if I tried to separate her from Vadze, right?  She follows him everywhere.”

Brin had sort of forgotten that Raifa had encountered Vadze first.  He doubted his kid had said anything flattering about him.  

“Still,” he muttered. “I’m offering if you need it.”  

“I can teach you how to make some other dishes too,” Raifa offered as they got to the door. “Quick and easy stuff that kids like. If you’re not busy, and, I mean, you want to?  I mean, I’ve got work, so it would have to be over the weekends.”  He grinned.  Raifa did that a lot.  Brin wondered if it made his teeth hurt.  “Busy tomorrow?”

— 

Brin was also right about the conversation with Vadze over his collar.  It did turn into a screaming match.  

“What is it, then?!” Vadze howled back, eyes flashing, collar crunched in his fist.  “If that’s not what you’re afraid of, say it!   Just say it!!  You think I’m gonna let someone bite me just because I don’t wear this piece of shit to broadcast how pathetic I am?!”  He hurled the collar at the ground, and the cheap plastic snapped under the stomp of his foot.  It must have hurt.  Vadze wasn’t wearing shoes.  “Fuck you!!” Vadze bellowed.  “I can take care of myself!!  I’m not some dumbass like YOU!!”

And Brin, Brin who had hung onto Vadze with everything he had when Vadze was just a tiny, helpless thing who didn’t know anything that wasn’t his mother’s warmth and the sound of Brin’s heartbeat—Brin who had promised himself that he would love Vadze forever, no matter what—he was screaming back just as loudly.

“You think you have a choice!!”  He snarled. “You don’t!  You never take the collar that protects you off!  And if you are too good—no, too arrogant—to follow the rules, don’t expect me to clean up your mess!!  While you live under my roof, you will wear that collar AT ALL TIMES, you hear me!? Or you can get out and never come back!!”

It was the wrong ultimatum to put in front of Vadze.  His eyes gleamed like he’d been waiting for it.

“Oh,” Brin choked. Oh no.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Vadze sneered, and turned on his heel.

Brin was rooted in place.  The door slammed.  In the ringing silence, he could now hear that the babies crying.  The other kids had heard.  They were scared.  Brin needed to go comfort them.  Vadze was gone.

Brin put his face in his hands.  

— 

…The neighbors actually called the police on them.  

Brin wasn’t annoyed, just confused.

“A disturbance was reported in this apartment,” the officer at the door told Brin.  Brin kept his head low, aware that his eyes were puffy and red.  “Is everything alright, sir?  Are you in any trouble?”

Brin was still a little bemused that someone had actually called the police.  They couldn’t have been that loud.  Surely it had been louder when Cross—

“No, we’re fine,” he said.  “Just an argument.  Won’t happen again, I swear.”

“Are you sure? We’re here to keep you safe.”

And for a moment, Brin thought of sending them after Vadze.  It would be an empty gesture.  Brin already knew Vadze could hide from the cops.  

It was actually kind of funny.  After everything, Vadze was the one Brin had finally told to get out.

— 

Incidents of reported domestic abuse in alpha-omega couples are extremely low.  Alphas feel the need to protect and provide for their mate. What alpha would ever intentionally harm that special person?  And an omega instinctively submits to their alpha and would never defy them.

In reality, it becomes a matter of degrees.

Being isolated during heat is an agonizing sensation for a mated omega.

And there will be an arduous, psychologically traumatic struggle to be claimed by any other, no matter the emotional connection, because the omega’s body still is bound to that original mate.  Should the omega succeed in bonding to a different alpha, it means their children growing up around a stepparent who will be eager to start a new family.  It is very easy to fade into the background.  Adoption is always encouraged.  All children deserve homes that want them.

And all you have to do to prevent that is put on a smile square your shoulders, take a deep breath…

“Sorry. I was provoking you.  You’re right.  Can you forgive me?”

Separation means financial reliance on the state for oneself and one’s children.  It means not having a protector.  It means having to fight alone against alphas who may feel entitled to any omega who doesn’t have a mate to defend them.  

“I was being so stupid.  I know no one else will be as good to me as you are…”

Because after losing an alpha, the omega has been used.  The omega has been worn down.  The omega is desperate.  And that omega will take what he can get, if he knows what’s good for him.  The alpha he might get could be far, far worse than this one.

“Please, Cross…?”

And so, the abuse becomes a matter of degrees.

How bad was the beating?

Brin’s motto: he’d had worse.

— 

“Coming…”  Brin paused to smother a yawn against the back of his wrist.  His head was pounding.  He fumbled with the lock, wishing fervently that he could go lie down.        

And he could! Once he made dinner, finished the laundry, ironed the kids’ school things, brought Kyr some medicine, and fed the babies.  And probably made everybody’s lunches.  Seril and Temer were just going to have to live without help with their homework today, because Brin probably wasn’t getting back up tonight.

He pushed the door open, wincing at the glare of the afternoon sunlight.  He found himself staring at Raifa.

Raifa, whose glorious hair never looked like a cat had been chewing on it.  Dammit.

Brin attempted a smile anyway, out of sheer neighborly stubbornness.  “Oh hey.  Did we have a lesson today?”

“No,” Raifa said, peering down.  “I just wanted to… Brin?  Brin?”

Brin put a hand out against the doorjamb to stop himself from toppling over.  “Mm?”  His eyes shot back open.  “Vadze is okay, right?”

“What?”  The change of subject made Raifa blink.  “Oh.  Yeah, of course he’s fine.”  Raifa bit his lip.  “…But you look terrible.”

“Thanks,” Brin snorted.  Raifa briefly looked so wounded that Brin cracked a real smile.  “Don’t worry.  I just got the sniffles from Kyr.”

“Uh-huh,” Raifa said, slowly and doubtfully.  “Hey, can I come in?  I brought meatloaf.”

Brin closed his eyes at those miraculous words.  Dinner: sorted.  “Be my guest.”  He managed to part himself from the doorjamb long enough to let Raifa inside.  

“Here—“  Raifa offered his arm, but Brin waved him away. He wasn’t an invalid.

Despite this, Brin somehow wound up leaning against Raifa anyway as they limped into the living room.  His head really hurt, that was his excuse.

“You sit down,” Raifa said, settling Brin back onto the cushions.  “I’ll put the meatloaf in the fridge, okay?”

“I can do it.”  Brin tried to sit up, but he got tangled in the couch cushions.  The room was kind of… wobbling.  Groaning, Brin let his head fall back.  Okay, five minutes.  He could afford five minutes.

Raifa’s quiet footsteps receded.  Brin could hear him clattering around in the kitchen.  A patter of littler footsteps announced themselves—Sable, maybe?—and Raifa chatted with her in hushed tones.  The kid went away again, and Brin relaxed.  His head spun, even sitting down.  Ugh, poor Kyr.

“You okay?” Brin called out to Raifa.  “You’re taking a little while in there.  Need any help?”

“I’m good,” Raifa reassured him.  “Just making you some tea.”

Brin didn’t need tea. Brin needed to do the laundry. More to the point, Brin needed to convince himself to get back up on his feet.

The apartment was a mess.  He shouldn’t let Raifa see it like this…

— 

Brin woke up to a gentle hand on his shoulder.  

Hm.  Someone was being nice.  Brin’s head really hurt.  Had he gotten hurt bad this time—?

Shit.

“How long was I asleep?”  He gasped at once, latching onto Raifa’s wrist.  Brin’s chest had congested into a block of concrete while he rested.  A headache throbbing relentlessly behind his eyes.  Someone had wrapped a blanket around him.  Brin drew in a breath to yell about it and wound up doubled over and coughing wetly.

“Uh oh,” Raifa said. His voice was hushed.  Even the noise of Brin’s coughing was making his headache worse, so Brin appreciated it.  “Okay, lie back before you fall over.  And drink.” Brin, throat burning, had no choice but to accept the tea.  Hot tea—but it was already dark outside through the apartment window and he wasn’t fooled.  “I hate to wake you, but I think you might be more comfortable sleeping in your bed.”

“I shouldn’t have been sleeping at all,” Brin managed to croak. “You shouldn’t have let me.”  He glared reproachfully at the intruder. Raifa smiled nervously back.

“You’re sick, Brin. You have to rest.”

“I can’t,” Brin snapped angrily, and then had to cough again.  Raifa took the tea before it spilled.

“It’s okay,” he soothed.  “Seril is taking care of Kyr.  Temer and I did the laundry.  I hope you don’t mind—“  Brin damn well did mind! “—and Seril told me you make lunches for the kids, so I made them some sandwiches and put them in the fridge.  Come on—“  He somehow negotiated Brin to his feet.  They began to hobble to the bedroom.  Each step was exhausting.  Brin felt horribly like he was going to burst into tears in the middle of it.  He kept having to cough into the crook of his arm too, which was disgusting, and really frustrating to be doing in front of his nice, unfairly perfect neighbor.

Raifa settled Brin down onto the bed.  Tucked him in and everything.  Brin wanted to protest, but instead he just laid there, eyes watering, shivering all over.  Why did the apartment suddenly feel freezing cold?

“Sorry,” he muttered miserably, avoiding Raifa’s eyes.

“It’s okay,” Raifa answered.  “This is what neighbors are for.  And look, is there anything else you need done tonight, Brin? I don’t want you to have to get up again.”

Brin hesitated.  “Just ironing,” he said, and then, quieter, “I need to feed the babies.”

“Would you let me do that?”  Raifa must have felt Brin stiffen.  “Okay, well what if I fed them in here, where you could see?” He asked gently.  “So you can make sure they’re okay?  Or do you want me to ask Seril to do it?”

Brin’s throat ached even worse.  He had to take a few deep breaths and then his voice was steady.  “It’s okay if you do it.  But bring Seril in here too.  I might need his help with them later tonight.”

“Okay,” Raifa said, and then, more sternly, “Rest.”

Brin scowled at him.

— 

Raifa visited two more times, and the second time, Brin was well enough to be up and about, aggressively completing chores to make up for lost time.  “No one in this house knows how to do dishes,” he grumbled, whipping out the dishtowel.  “And as for you—“  He aimed a dripping spoon towards Raifa’s nose, “You’re terrible at ironing.  You put creases down the middle of Temer’s shirts.”

“Yeah,” Raifa grimaced, “…Not really my best skill.”

“I can show you how,” Brin offered without thinking, then winced.  “I mean, if your mate doesn’t mind.  Actually, you’d probably rather learn from them.”  Brin still needed to introduce himself to them too, if only to apologize for monopolizing Raifa for the past few days.  But they always seemed to be out whenever he visited—

“She wouldn’t mind,” Raifa answered.  “In fact, I think she’d appreciate you helping me out.  She passed away three years ago.”

Brin nearly dropped the spoon.  

Nothing pastel, at least.  He’d frozen over the water, suds up to his wrists, and the wall he was staring at was perfectly blank.  “I’m sorry,” Brin said after a moment.  “I had no idea…”

“It’s alright,” Raifa replied calmly.  “I have you at a disadvantage, after all.  Vadze told me about you when we met.”  

Didn’t Brin know it.

And he wanted to say something sensitive—something kind and thoughtful that would prove wrong all the inevitably horrid things his kid had said about him.  But it was like his jaw had locked shut.

Raifa sighed. “That was part of why I brought that casserole over,” he said after a moment.  “I know what a mess I was when I first lost her.  Don’t take this the wrong way, but when I heard about you, I just… Well, I thought you might need some help.”

Brin glanced over his shoulder.  “Do I—“ Do I really seem so pathetic?  “Does it really seem like I need to be watched?”  He smiled weakly.

Raifa answered him with an equally pathetic smile.  “It’s been three years and I still try to get Gaila to wear all denim because I can’t iron things right.”

Brin laughed—then he coughed, because he still wasn’t completely well, but he managed not to cough into the sink.  Feeling brave, he asked nonchalantly, “Does that make us friends?”

“Please, I already bought your friendship,” Raifa answered matter-of-factly.  “You were doomed at first casserole.”

Brin had never had friends, not since having Vadze.  Definitely not after being bitten by Cross.  He had no idea what he was doing, but flicking suds at Raifa seemed like a good place to start.

— 

“I wasn’t using Vadze as an excuse or anything,” Raifa suddenly exclaimed one afternoon. “I really do appreciate him staying with Gaila!  I’m pretty much working two jobs.  Ugh.”  He gave that slightly queasy, sharp-edged grin that meant he was talking about his mate. “Hospital bills.  Moving wasn’t cheap either.”

Brin nodded along. Beta households weren’t eligible for government assistance, even if there were kids involved.  It couldn’t have been easy for Raifa to assume full financial responsibility and try to raise a growing girl.

“And I know she’s lonely,” Raifa went on, “Even though she’s such a tough kid.  She’d barely even talk about her mom, you know, at first—“  He shook his head.  “She didn’t want to make her daddy cry.  And now I’m feeling lonely because she’s always off gallivanting through the neighborhood with her new best friend.  Seriously, that’s just sad.”

Brin had to smile. Kids were a mystery.  They could be brave and fragile in the same sentence, assert their independence while expecting Mom to come fix their problems.  Easy to love, and easy to be hurt by.  “You must be doing a good job,” he murmured. “She’s a really great kid.”

“But so is Vadze,” Raifa said.  

“Hm.”  Brin raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Raifa nudged him a little.  “You should try to let them talk about it, you know,” he went on.  “Even if you’re not ready to talk with them.  Kids deal with loss a little differently, but they still feel it.  They need to get it out.”

Brin smiled dryly. “Yeah,” he agreed.  He was thinking, They don’t miss Cross.  He asked, “Did Vadze tell you about my mate?”

“No,” Raifa shrugged. “I think he’s still processing it. I did ask,” he admitted, “Just once. But he just stormed out without anything.”

That’s my boy, Brin thought, chest squeezing. Control that temper.

— 

Having friends was strange, but Brin prided himself on his ability to adapt quickly.  “Just bring her laundry up with you,” he said into the receiver, phone pinned between his shoulder and his chin as he airplaned another bite of baby food into Destin’s mouth.  “We’ll do them both.  I’ll show you how to do the ironing.”

“Can’t today,” Raifa said, “Gaila’s here.”

“She is?”  Brin exclaimed, and cursed a little as he dipped his sleeve into Destin’s bowl.  Gaila usually came home after dark.  It would have worried Brin to pieces if it was his kid.  Truth be told, it kind of did anyway.

“Mm-hm.“

“Well, tell her I say hi—“

“She’s already demanding you come down for a visit,” Raifa replied amusedly.  “Little pest.  No, shoo, it’s daddy’s turn with the phone—“

“—HI BRIN—“

“Do I need to call you back?”  Brin asked, laughing.

“No, no,” Raifa laughed with him.  “She’s drawing anyway.  Gaila, what are you making?”

“You can’t look yet!”

“And there you have it.”  Raifa snorted.  “I don’t even think I’m needed right now.  She just requires the audience for later.”

“You wouldn’t trade it for the world,” Brin retorted, and smiled as Raifa sighed across the line.

“You got me.”

“You don’t…” Brin hesitated.  At Raifa’s encouraging hum, he took a breath.  “You don’t happen to know what happened to Vadze tonight, do you?”  As soon as he said the words, he winced.  He didn’t want to have to explain the question.  Oh, the real reason I’m asking about my son’s whereabouts is because he hasn’t been home in almost two weeks…

“Let me just ask,” Raifa answered gently.  Brin let his breath back out.  Destin had finished eating, it seemed, and was flailing hopefully in an effort to escape the high chair.  Brin dried his son’s face one-handed, the other twisting nervously in the hem of his own shirt.

It would be okay. Vadze was always okay.  He was smart and resourceful.  And stubborn.  So stubborn.  Everything Brin wasn’t…

“Gaila says Vadze is getting in a fight with some of the bigger kids,” Raifa finally said. Brin dropped the spoon.

“A—a fight?”  He choked.

“It’s okay,” Raifa soothed, and as Brin shook his head, he clicked his tongue over the line. “Brin?  It’s okay.  Vadze will be fine.”

“How can he be fine?!”  Brin exclaimed.  “Does Gaila know where he is?  I need to go get him.  Now.”

“Brin,” Raifa said gently, “Vadze has been getting in fights since you moved here.”  Brin felt cold all over.  The beta’s soft inquiry—“didn’t you know?”—seemed to ooze into his ears, drawing out the awful question.

No.  No, he hadn’t known.

His baby was—

“I think I’d better come up after all,” Raifa said.  

“No,” Brin insisted. “Please don’t.  It’s fine.  I’m just—” I don’t want to see you feeling sorry for me.  Or worse—judging me for being such a bad parent—

“Breathe,” Raifa urged.  “Breathe, Brin.  Come on. It’s not like what you’re imagining, I promise.  He holds his own.”

“But he’s—“

“He told me about it, okay?  He probably didn’t want you to get scared.  He’s cleared a territory.  He’s only fighting the  alphas who challenge him over it—“

“Vadze is not an alpha!!”  Brin shouted into the receiver, and then proceeded to hang up in mortification.  

Startled by the loud noise, Destin’s eyes welled up. “Oh—oh no, honey, Mom’s sorry,” Brin picked the baby up and cuddled him close.  “Really, I’m sorry, sorry…”  He tucked his face against Destin’s downy head, his own tears prickling at his eyes. He hadn’t known anything.  

But this was just like the collar Vadze refused to wear.  He didn’t want to be an omega.  He wanted to be an alpha so bad he would lie about it and invite other kids to beat him up.

I am a failed mother, Brin thought, heart crumpling in his chest.  I couldn’t make Vadze feel better, and I certainly couldn’t protect him.  So this is what he’s turned to.  This is how he’s coping.

He should probably call Raifa back and apologize for losing his temper, but all of Brin cringed away from the very notion.  No way could he get out of explaining things this time.

And he’d always had worse beatings, sure; he could take anything Cross dished out.  But thinking back on them, contemplating them, talking about them was like taking every hit all at once.  Brin didn’t have it in him.  Not anymore.  The only way he could keep going was to not let himself feel it.

And someone was knocking at the door.

— 

“What did I tell you about coming up here?”  Brin said angrily, swiping at his face with the back of his sleeve—he couldn’t seem to stop the tears now that they’d started flowing.  Dammit, he hated being seen like this.  He should have just let Raifa knock.  “Go back.  You’re not going to leave Gaila by herself.”

“Not for long anyway,” Raifa said.  “And anyway, you still opened the door.”

“Only because I thought you were the landlord,” Brin snapped.  “Go home.”

“I’m sorry,” Raifa said, not in the exact same tone as a petulant child, but the obnoxiousness was all there.  He was not sorry.

And then Raifa opened his arms up to Brin. “Will you just come here?”  

Brin glared at him.  

“It’s okay,” Raifa said, “Please, just let me.  It’s okay to need a hug.  Literally everyone needs a hug sometimes.”

But Brin’s problem was not a paucity of hugs. Brin’s problem was needing a do-over for his life.

“I don’t—“ Brin’s perfectly angry assertion ruptured on a sob.  “—You don’t get it.  I don’t deserve—“

“No,” Raifa hushed him.  He took a half step forward.  Faltered there, wild-eyed, fingertips stiffening.  “Oh, Brin.  You do. You do.”

Repeating it didn’t make it so.  Brin’s weight rocked to his heels.  He wanted to slam the door.  But Brin’s head thumped against Raifa’s chest, and then the beta’s arms were sweeping around him, gathering the omega close.  

“You try so hard,” Raifa said, voice choked, “Why would you say that about yourself? Dammit, Brin…”

Brin bawled into Raifa’s shirt like a baby, hiding his face and feeling, for the first time in a long time, somebody hugging him close for no reason at all.

— 

And then they sat on the couch together while Gaila played with Temer in the other room. Raifa had briefly left Brin by himself to go bring her over.  Brin had failed to lock the door on him.  His legs were noodles.  His gas tank was empty.  He was flopped over the couch, head lolling back, limp and wrung mostly dry, staring at the ceiling.  Raifa was warm beside him.  

“He hasn’t been coming home, has he?”  

Brin looked over.

Raifa was smiling sadly.  “Yeah, I thought he might not be.  He’s been sleeping on our floor more than usual.  And he doesn’t take much, but Vadze steals food when he thinks I’m not looking.”

Brin’s face flamed. “Oh—I am so sorry.  How much?  I’ll pay you back—“  Raifa waved a hand.

“It’s nothing I can’t spare,” he said simply.  “If he’d let me, I’d offer it.  He’s just too proud to be seen needing something.”

“That idiot,” Brin muttered.

“He kind of takes after his mom,” Raifa added lightly, and so Brin glowered at him until his swollen eyes stung.  

“He’s okay, Brin,” Raifa said more gently.  “No more bruised up than usual.  However he’s getting by, he’s getting by.  And honestly…”  He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders.  “…he’ll be okay.  I’m certain of it.”

“You don’t know what Vadze is capable of,” Brin murmured back.  

“Maybe not,” Raifa agreed, “But I’ve seen him with Gaila.  He takes being her big brother seriously.  Vadze wouldn’t want her to see him really bad off.”

Brin opened his mouth to argue.  After a moment, he closed it and tried again.  “I’m not sure he knows his limits,” he said quietly.  “He didn’t exactly have the best childhood, as I’m sure you can tell—“

“Hey,” Raifa interrupted.  Brin cut him off, unwilling to hear it.

“—he wouldn’t mean to get hurt,” Brin growled, “But he thinks he’s invincible.  I can’t even believe he’s fighting with alphas on the street.”  He straightened up suddenly and addressed Raifa seriously, “He is an omega.  I’m not crazy.  I have his papers if you don’t believe me—“          

“I do, I do,” Raifa reassured him.  “But he’s pretty big for an omega, and he’s holding his own in the territory fights. Maybe even a little more than that. Gaila’s seen him fight and she pretty much worships him.”

“But he’s an omega,” Brin said helplessly, “Sooner or later, he’s not going to be holding his own.  And what then?”

“Then,” Raifa answered quietly, “You have to be there for him to pick him back up again. That’s all you can do.  That’s all any parent can do.”

Brin growled at him. “You’re a pushover, Raifa.  If I give up like that then there won’t be anything left of him to pick up!  If it was Gaila—if she presents as an omega, because she might—you wouldn’t dare leave her to the wolves.  Not if you’ve lived through half of what I have.  You’d know better—”  Even as he said it, he knew that Raifa hadn’t.  Whatever Raifa had gone through hadn’t been bad enough to destroy him.  It was hard to believe that the kindhearted beta had even lost his mate in the first place.  

Instead, it had barely touched him.  Raifa was still so… so nice, so forgiving, like the world hadn’t wronged him at all. That was part of why he was such a lenient parent.  He hadn’t been taught the hard way that he couldn’t afford that luxury.

“But,” Brin admitted miserably, “Vadze won’t even talk to me, so what am I saying?  I’d have to chain him up.  And then he’d hate me even more and still run away the first chance he got.”

“Vadze doesn’t hate you,” Raifa said at once.  Brin threw him an incredulous look, but Raifa’s gaze was puzzlingly sincere.  “Really,” he said, shaking his head.  “I knew you two fought…”  A smile was beginning to spread across his face.  Brin stared at it in confusion.  “…You really don’t know.”

“What don’t I know?” Brin demanded.  “Tell me.”

“Whenever Vadze comes over,” Raifa told him, beaming, “He asks me about you.  He makes sure that you’re okay.”

Brin blinked.

“Just like you, really,” Raifa went on, “Whenever you have the opportunity, you’ll ask me little things about him.  And you both pretend like you don’t really care that much, like you have no problem being apart, but you keep asking.  Sure, he’ll complain about you if everything’s okay.  But when I say you’re having a bad time he’ll all but order me to give you a call and bring you something for dinner.”

At this point, Brin’s eyes were all but bugging out of his head.  “Vadze does that?”  He gaped. “No way.”

“You’re both really bad at expressing your feelings, aren’t you?”  Raifa’s voice was tinged with sympathy.  “You care so much, but you’re scared to show it.  Would it really be so bad to let Vadze know you love him?”

Brin swallowed and looked down at the floor.  “It’s hard to,” he said quietly.  “I—he really should hate me.  I think he probably does.  After everything that happened… I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Is it maybe something you can tell me about?”  Raifa asked.

Brin’s mouth opened.

After a moment, he closed it again and shook his head.  “No,” he said.  “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“Look, it’s fine,” Raifa soothed, and Brin grabbed his hand.

“I can’t yet,” he stressed.  “This was a lot to process in one day.  So can we just sit around being normal people for a little while? You can hear the gory details some other time.”

“That sounds good,” Raifa agreed, and turned his hand over so their fingers tangled.  He squeezed Brin’s hand.  “Take all the time you need,” he said.

— 

“I have the worst trust issues,” Brin explained with a rigid grin, when they’d let the conversation stretch and wound up staying up too late—tiredness and the electric energy of Raifa’s attention left Brin feeling drunk.  The words just kind of fell out on their own.

Raifa patted his hand.  “It’s okay,” he said, yawning, “Gotta keep fighting, however you can.”

Brin stared at the top of his head for a moment—Raifa had hunched over to yawn again, this time into his fist.  “Augh,” he groaned, “Bet you Gaila isn’t going to let me sleep in tomorrow…”

“She has to keep fighting too,” Brin murmured, smiling to himself, and outright laughing at the wounded look Raifa shot him.  

“That’s not fair,” he lamented.  “…I’m too tired to come up with a good argument.”

“Then you’d better get back to your apartment,” Brin answered.  “Come on, get up.  I’ll walk you down.”  He prodded Raifa, who grunted, but lurched to his feet.  Raifa collected Gaila—napping in the nest with Brin’s kids—and cradled her carefully in his arms.  She nestled closer with a sleepy mumble.  

Brin wondered when he’d forgotten to tense up.  Seeing Raifa approach his kids…  Raifa tousled Kyr’s hair as he left.  The little boy hummed, even fast asleep.

“You can’t walk me down,” Raifa muttered on his way to the door, “You’re the omega.  I have to walk you down.”

“You’re making no sense,” Brin scoffed, and Raifa tilted his head back to grin at him.

“Yeah.  I know.”

— 

And then when Brin finally worked up his courage to tell Raifa—when they sat down at the kitchen table, fortifying mugs of tea in hand, staring at each other in silence as Brin tried to work out where to begin—Raifa blurted out, “Maybe you shouldn’t tell me.”

Brin blinked at him. “Okay,” he said after a moment. “That’s cool.”  He nodded.  He looked back at his tea.  His fingers drummed against the table.

Raifa put his hand on top of Brin’s before he could fidget further.

“What I mean is,” Raifa ground out, avoiding Brin’s eyes.  “It seems like you haven’t talked to anyone else about this, maybe?  And I want to listen.  I do.  I want you to tell me.  But I might not be the best person for that job.”

Brin frowned at him. “Job,” he repeated, mystified.

Raifa grimaced. “I have,” he said, with difficulty, “Ulterior motives when it comes to you.”

He paused for a moment, as if to let that sink in.  Then he retracted his hand.  Brin was staring.

Raifa added, still not looking at him, “Do you get what I mean?”

“Um,” Brin blinked at him.  “Kind of?”

“I don’t want to take advantage of you,” Raifa said firmly.  “I don’t want to get you to tell me things—things you might not want me to know. Or rely on me if it’s, you know, too much.  I don’t want you to think that I tricked you.  I really don’t.”  And then all of a sudden he was looking into Brin’s eyes and saying, “Do you get it now?”

— 

Yeah, but Brin didn’t really have anyone else to talk to, did he?

“Well, that sucks,” Raifa frowned, and took a sip from his mug. “You need to get out more.”

Brin hugged his sweater to himself.  “Don’t know if I even remember how,” he muttered.  He couldn’t even convince himself to get a haircut.  Going out to socialize was significantly more advanced. “Anyway, the kids need me.  I have to stay home.”

“24/7?”  Raifa said a little skeptically, and then added brightly, “Hey, what about therapy?”

“Oh yeah!  When hell freezes over,” Brin answered succinctly. “Air all my problems?  To a stranger?  You must be joking.”

— 

Brin made a point of stopping off at Raifa’s apartment when he got back.  He greeted Gaila with a hello hug and sent her off to investigate his shopping bags—there was a treat for her hidden in them. Raifa, he greeted with a glare.  “I was right,” he informed his friend, “I hate therapy.”

“Wait, you actually went?”  Raifa had been in the middle of peeling potatoes.  He dropped a big chunk of potato skin on his foot and for some reason the tips of his ears were getting darker.

…He was blushing. Aha!

Brin’s face was suddenly very hot.  

Gaila, from the entryway, squealed with delight upon finding her very own copy of the latest Destination Dream book.

…Wow, Brin found it imperative to go check on her immediately.  He fled the kitchen and its dark-eared inhabitant with a fist over his mouth.

 —

 It would have been nice if Brin had hatched his plan instantly after that.  A couple sessions of government-sponsored therapy, the support of a friend, and then he spontaneously sprouted a backbone.

In reality, he second-guessed and thought himself in circles for way too long.  Throughout it all, he kept hoping that Vadze would just come home on his own.

But Vadze didn’t.

And so eventually, Brin just went mad with all this support and understanding, because that was the only explanation.

“So,” he said, phone warm against his cheek, “Do you remember that one time you said I could rely on you if I ever needed something?  And that you owed me a hundred favors?”  Even as he said it, he couldn’t resist snorting.  If Raifa owed him a hundred, Brin probably owed Raifa a thousand.

“Wait, I don’t remember.”  Over the line, Raifa sounded exhausted.  Apparently Thursdays were really busy at work.  “Are we talking about the time when you helped Gaila make the toothpick castle for history class?  Or the science project?”

“Science project,” Brin answered.  He’d had three kids graduate from elementary school so far.  He was kind of the king of arts and crafts.

“Right.  And yes, I do remember.  What’s up?”

“I was wondering…” Brin’s courage briefly failed him. He took a deep breath to smother the nervousness in his stomach.  “…Does Vadze usually walk Gaila to the door when he brings her home?”

“Ah.”  Raifa’s voice sounded completely neutral.  No indication of whether he was going to agree or not.  Brin bit his lip.  “I kind of thought you might ask me something like this.  And yeah.  He usually comes inside too, for a little while.”

Brin took another deep breath.  “Will you help me?”  He asked, and was proud that his voice wasn’t shaking too hard.  “I know he might take it badly and get mad at you, but I swear Gaila can stay with me if he does.  And I’ll tell him I forced you into it and—and I justneed to talk to him—“

“Brin.”  Raifa’s gentle voice cut him off.  “Of course I’ll help you.  Honestly, I’m pretty sure he’s waiting for you too.”

— 

They worked out the details on Raifa’s way home from work.  Brin went down to meet him and they walked back up together.  Raifa unlocked the door for him with a sympathetic smile.  Brin didn’t imagine he looked very confident right now.  He was shaking and cold and felt like he might burst into tears the minute Vadze yelled at him.

“Need anything while you wait?”  Raifa offered, shrugging out of his jacket.  “Tea?  I’ve got to get started on dinner.  They’ll probably be here pretty soon.”

“No thank you,” Brin murmured.  He selected one of the chairs up against the wall, where Vadze wouldn’t be able to see him until he was halfway in the living room already.  Now that he wasn’t moving, if he didn’t sit down, he’d fall down.

“You’re gonna be okay, Brin,” Raifa murmured to him.  And then he swept out of the room, leaving Brin alone with his thoughts.  

And the waiting.  

Brin knotted his fingers in the bottom of his sweater, feeling his palms sweat.

Well, Brin was almost alone.  Raifa’s quiet humming carried.  Brin propped his head up on drawn-in knees.  

He’d expected a constant state of panic, trying to straighten out what exactly he needed to say to Vadze, and predict all the ways Vadze would respond so he could circumvent them.  It had to be perfect.  Brin needed to tell Vadze all the things he needed to hear, and all right at once.  

Somehow, though, Brin couldn’t do that this time.  

Time didn’t seem to pass.  Raifa was a distant, invisible presence that existed only by the merit of his ghostly nonsense humming.  Brin’s heartbeat crawled along and Vadze would never return, because time wasn’t moving forward.

It was a strange feeling and not one Brin was very familiar with.  He identified it after a moment.

I feel safe.

Kind of a ridiculous sentiment while he was preparing to face off against Vadze.  But then again, how else did one recognize safety? Even Cross, who for all his faults had seemed invincible, had proven to be just another person.  He made mistakes like everyone else.  He’d died.  

But you could relax in the moments between battles. Maybe that’s what ‘safe’ was.  And maybe there could be more to life than getting your back up against the wall to brace yourself for the next one.  

Brin’s therapist liked to drone on about that kind of thing, which was probably why Brin was thinking it.  

Be mindful and acknowledge when you are in no danger, when you are comfortable.

So what was Brin feeling right now?  Why did it feel so safe?

Because…

He twitched as he heard the lock click.  Lifted his head as the door opened to Gaila’s rapid, sweet chatter, and the more subdued answers that followed.  

His heart lurched.  Vadze.  His baby.

“—and then you sent them flying!  Like—like plastic bags!”

“Nah,” came Vadze’s slow drawl—warm and amused like Brin hadn’t heard it in so long.  “It was pretty anticlimactic.  Pretty sure their feet stayed on the ground and everything. Think I’m losing my touch.”

“No, it was definitely all BWOOSH,” Gaila insisted, and bounced into view.  “You’re a liar.  Daaaddy!  Vadze isn’t telling the truth—“

“In here, kiddo,” Raifa called from the kitchen.  Gaila stopped short as she saw Brin, tilting her head to study him.  Brin had at some point gotten to his feet.  He cast a helpless smile her way, but didn’t say anything.

“Hey hey.  You trying to make me trip over you, short stack?” Vadze’s hand dropped on top of Gaila’s head and steered her to the side as she giggled.  “What are you even looking a—“

And then he stopped short too.

“Hey,” Brin said softly.  “Vadze.”

Brin kind of hated himself for doing this.  For a moment Vadze had been upright and smiling, all soft angles and swinging, loose hands.  

As soon as he saw Brin, his eyes turned to stone and he imploded into defensive formation.  Hands in his pockets and hair tumbling into his face when he lowered his head to glare.  Vadze’s mouth snapped shut so tight the muscles in his jaw jumped.  His smile just evaporated into nothingness.

Gaila’s giggles were overtaken by concern.  She peered up, tugging at the hem of his shirt.  “Vadze?”

“C’mere, kiddo,” Raifa emerged from the kitchen.  Vadze’s eyes veered towards him like snake-strike.  The room seemed to get colder.

Raifa ignored it, instead taking Gaila’s hand. “Daddy needs some help in the kitchen. What do you say we let these two talk for a bit?”

Gaila dug her heels in, now frowning in earnest as she looked back and forth between Brin and Vadze.  “But… But…“

Vadze took a breath. “No,” he said.  The anger seemed to dissipate just a little.  He sounded resigned instead.  “It’s okay.  Get lost, kid.”

“Vadze!”  Gaila let out a cry of distress, momentarily squirming free of Raifa.  She threw herself at Vadze’s legs.  Brin nearly grabbed for her.  Vadze was still all tensed up and ready for a fight—

Gaila thumped into his legs and hugged her arms around him.  Vadze stayed perfectly still.  Gaila repeated his name, sounding on the verge of tears.  

Instead of lashing out, Vadze reached down and brushed her poofy hair out of her face.

Brin blinked. He’d never seen Vadze being—

Well.

Being gentle.  Not once.

“Come on,” the younger omega murmured down, and for the first time Brin saw hints of his dynamic peeking through.  His voice was so soft.  “I got this.” When he wasn’t looking at the adults, the ice in the room thawed.  “Don’t I always win?”

“But you—“ Gaila squeezed him.  “But you’re not supposed to look scared!”

Vadze’s utterly soft expression veered into a sour grimace.  “I do not look—“  Gaila had started beaming up at him.  Vadze glowered back.  Or at least he tried to.  It came out hopelessly fond.  

“Oh, shut up,” he muttered, flicked her on the nose, and then nudged her off of him as she pouted.  “I’m hungry, short stack.  Go fix me food.”

“Okay.  And then we’ll play!”  Gaila announced.  She cut her eyes Brin’s way for a moment—Brin was too shocked from this exchange to make a sound—then added brightly, “All of us together!”

The look on Vadze’s face suggested he’d rather swallow a bucket of nails.  He took a deep breath (or two).  “We’ll… discuss it.”  He managed with an admirable lack of growling.  “Seriously.  Go. Shoo.  You’re crazy annoying.”

“That’s just because you’re hungry,” Gaila said knowledgeably, and all but skipped back to Raifa—who, as Brin glanced up at him, didn’t look half as dumbfounded as Brin himself felt.  He looked like he was trying not to smile.  Gaila grabbed Raifa’s hand with both of hers and towed him determinedly towards the kitchen.  “You’ll feel better soon!  Daddy, what’s for eats?”

“Uh… soup?”    

“Soup!”

And then it was just Brin and Vadze’s glare.

Only Brin found that Vadze wasn’t glaring at him.  He was staring at the floor rather intensely, arms crossed, all bristled up—but it wasn’t a glare.  And he wasn’t yelling.  

“I bet you’re so fucking happy about this,” he muttered.  

“What?”  Brin was startled out of his observations.

“Me,” Vadze gestured. “You know, doing the omega bullshit. Squealing over kids.  I’m finally acting like you always wanted.”  He dared to glare up at Brin now, but Brin for the first time couldn’t see the hatred he’d always expected.  It was hard to tell with all his messy hair hanging in the way, but Vadze looked almost… embarrassed.  “I bet you’re thinking you’ve won.”

“I am happy,” Brin began.  Vadze’s eyes flashed.

“Well fuck you. It’s not like that.  Kids are fucking annoying and I can’t stand them. The only reason Gaila’s okay is because she’s smart and keeps up without whining—”

“I’m happy,” Brin interrupted, raising his voice a little to cut Vadze off, “Because there’s something that makes you happy, Vadze.  I was beginning to think nothing could anymore.”  

Vadze’s expression became very complicated.  His crossed arms suddenly looked a lot less confrontational.  

Oh.

Had… had Vadze always looked so much like he was trying to hug himself when they talked?

“Vadze,” Brin said softly, and then hesitated on the words.  Can’t you come home?  Is it really so bad with me?  He swallowed.  “Your siblings miss you.”  Vadze sniffed in disdain.  The lump in Brin’s throat got bigger.  “I miss you.”

“No, you don’t,” Vadze said, and then flicked his eyes up at Brin again.  “It’s going well, right?”  He said.  “Since you two planned this, I guess you’re getting along?”

There was something nasty in his tone, but Brin ignored it.  “Yeah,” he said quietly, “Raifa’s a good friend.  We talk about you.”

“Ugh,” Vadze grimaced.  “Just stop. Mom, please tell me you don’t think you have to do this.  You’ve got plenty of spawn already, you’re busy, and no one even knows I’m yours, so it’s not like anyone can come look down on you for not wanting me—“

“I’m sorry,” Brin burst out.

And then Vadze was looking at him.  His eyes didn’t dart away again this time.

It was hardly the first time Brin had apologized to him.  But the words tasted so different.  

“I’m so sorry,” Brin went on, voice shaking.  “I’m sorry that you’re an omega, and I’m sorry you never had a dad.  I’m sorry you didn’t have a better mom, Vadze—I swear I tried.”  Vadze was shaking his head, and it wasn’t enough—Brin took a step forward and Vadze retreated back a step instantly, unwilling to let him any closer.  “I’m sorry about Cross.  I just thought—“

“Shut up,” Vadze suddenly snapped.  “Don’t you dare.  I don’t want to hear this.  I’m leaving.”

Brin darted forward before he could (had Vadze always moved this slowly?  Had he always been so small?) and blocked the doorway.

“I’m sorry,” he said desperately.  “I know you hate me.  I don’t blame you for it.  I should have run away and taken you all with me the first time he hit you.”  The memory was still a heavy weight in Brin’s stomach.  It might not have even been the first time.  Maybe it was just the first time Cross had left such an obvious mark.

Vadze had lied about it.  Spitting and angry, fists balled at his sides.  “I fell, Mom, I fell!  Just leave it alone!  I fell!”  And Brin, hand over his mouth, choked back nausea.  He could read the lie in Vadze’s eyes.  And even then, he was still hoping in the back of his mind that it was a schoolyard bully, or an accident, or hell, that Vadze really had just tripped because no, no, no, it was only supposed to be Brin…

“I just thought it would get better.  I thought I could make it better, and that if I tried harder, he’d stop!”

And then he’d been pregnant again.  And again after that.  Brin couldn’t leave.  He had nowhere to go, nowhere to take care of him.  He watched the other kids, the littler kids (the ones who listened to him) like a hawk.  Every day without bruises, and he’d sigh with relief.  

And none of the others ever did turn up with bruises that didn’t match their stories.  It was only ever Vadze.

Brin avoided every opportunity to go outside. He wouldn’t leave them alone with Cross. He’d keep them all in a room together with Mom, keep them quiet and happy, show Cross what a good mate he could be. Then Cross didn’t have to get angry—

But sometimes Brin did have to leave.

And Vadze wasn’t really Cross’s son.  Cross didn’t try to hold back.

Brin had pieced together some of what happened.  Seril and Temer were willing to talk about certain… parts.  

Vadze, who sneered at all his younger siblings and would barely touch them—he would throw himself in front of Cross if it came to that.  Scream insults that only got more creative with time, so Cross couldn’t ignore him. Punch him with his little, bruise-knuckled fists until Cross would turn around and the littler ones could escape. The one time Brin had caught Cross at it, Vadze had worn a gap-toothed, triumphant grin just before Cross’s fist snapped his little head to the side.

Cross had broken Brin’s arm in retaliation.  Brin wasn’t allowed to raise a hand against his alpha.  But he had, as hard as he could, the minute he had pulled Vadze to safety behind him.

“I thought—“ Brin found himself gasping for breath, “I thought I was doing my best for you, but maybe I was just doing my best for myself.  I should have tried harder.  Then maybe I wouldn’t have lost you.  Then maybe… maybe you’d still come home.”

Maybe you would feel safe.

For a moment the room was quiet.

“You have no idea,” Vadze breathed, “Why I hate you, you bastard!!”  

Brin’s head jerked back.  The air was hazed and shimmery with unshed tears.  No pastels, nothing blank.  Vadze glared, implacable, arms finally snapped free, fingers digging into Brin’s shoulders.  Brin’s back hit the wall.

“Yes!”  He shouted.  “Yes, Mom, you should have left!!  Thanks for finally figuring that out!  You should have left the first time he hit you!  We shouldn’t have had to watch that!  We shouldn’t have had to listen to you crying after, and then pretend we didn’t all hate him in the morning!”  Vadze’s voice cracked.  

Brin held his hands up.  It’s okay, I’ll be good, whatever you want.  Trying to quiet him.  Didn’t want Gaila to hear—or Raifa—but Vadze continued on, furious.

“We shouldn’t have had to see our mom covered in bruises!  You should have cared about your own fucking self for once, but instead you just let him!  Like it was nothing!  Yeah, I hate you.  I hate you! But you hated me first, so what else was I supposed to do?!”

Brin’s voice broke, “Baby—“

“—after all, you let him claim you because of me!!”  Vadze recoiled just as suddenly as he’d shoved Brin backwards, wide-eyed and snarling. “Because you had me, right?  Your big mistake!  And you wanted to try to give me a family.  So you went looking and eventually let that asshole claim you. It was my fault and everybody knew it! And all I ever did was get born!”

“No, baby,” Brin said, shaking his head.  He pushed away from the wall.  “That’s not true.”

“I’m glad Cross’s dead,” Vadze snapped defiantly, “I just wish I’d been the one to kill him. Wouldn’t have mattered that I was an omega, I’d just do it in his fucking sleep—don’t—“  He broke off with a wheeze, eyes spilling over.  “No, don’t—“

Brin’s opened arms slowly folded Vadze close.  

You couldn’t tell from far away, but when Brin was holding him, he realized Vadze was shaking.  Maybe even harder than Brin himself.

Literally everyone needs a hug sometimes.  Even the Vadzes of the world.  Even the scary tough ones.

“No,” Brin said firmly.  He had to.  He couldn’t leave room for argument.  And not because it was what Vadze wanted to hear either.

It hurt.  All the blows rained down at once.

“It wasn’t your fault.  I’m sorry you ever thought that.”  As Vadze shivered silently, all tense, but not quite pulling away, Brin went on quietly, “Not you.  Not ever.  I could never hate you.  But I hate what I did to you, and sometimes it hurts just to see you and remember all of that.  And I get scared sometimes too.  Scared that you’ll repeat my mistakes.”

“Because,” Vadze said tiredly, voice muffled into Brin’s sweater.  “That’s what I was, Mom.  A mistake.”

Brin bit his lip, squeezing Vadze closer.  “Yeah,” he agreed after a moment.  “You were. And I love you so much.  From the minute you were born, I wouldn’t trade you for anything.  Not the perfect life or the perfect mate or any other son.  I wouldn’t trade any of you.”

Vadze snorted. “Fuck that,” he muttered, “I’d trade you in a heartbeat to be an alpha.  What are you, crazy?”

“No,” Brin answered with a smile, “I’m just nicer than you.”

“Ugh,” Vadze grumbled.  “You suck so much.”

But after a moment, his arms settled tentatively around Brin.  Brin closed his eyes, and for the second time in his life, shattered.

— 

Fragments of glass that were once whole are: pretty, unrecognizable, and dangerous.  You shouldn’t touch them with your bare hands. You shouldn’t get close.

And yet, to repair what was broken, you must.

You must handle each piece carefully, and take care to protect your hands because you are important too.  You must be able to see the suggestions between jagged edges; the start of a curve, the place where fractures meet, and hints of what intact thing might emerge.

It’s okay.  It can be a team effort.

The glass will help you too, even if it seems to resist.

(It will tell you in the absence of silence that nothing is beyond repair.)

— 

“Do you think Kyr’s father was musical?”  Raifa asked.

Brin looked over.  “Huh?”  

Raifa looked quite a bit different in the sunshine. His hair was curlier than Brin had noticed.  For once his tidy shirt was a rumpled, stained mess, and Raifa was still breathing hard from the game of tag their kids were embroiled in.  In a perfectly objective manner, the light and sweat made him glow.

Brin was trying to get out more lately.  The kids, as it turned out, liked to play outside too.

Both their laps were full of beads.  Brin was stringing them together on fishing wire. Gaila’s birthday was coming up and at the prospect of homemade necklaces, Brin’s kids had discovered a previously unknown fascination with jewelry.  Even Temer, who considered herself far above such things, had demanded a pair of butterfly earrings.  

Evie and Destin were too small for jewelry, so they were just going to have very glittery additions to their mobile.

Brin and Raifa had needed to go out and buy a whole bunch more beads, basically.

(He still hadn’t gotten that haircut just yet, though.  But he’d at least looked in through the window, Raifa’s hand in his.  Baby steps.)

“Musical, you know,” Raifa gestured.  Brin raised an eyebrow.  “He’s always humming those songs, and I think he makes them up himself.  Or—sorry, are you the musical one?”

Brin laughed.  “No way.  But you realize you’re talking about Cross?”

“He’s Cross’s?”  Raifa sounded so astonished by this.  He also lacked volume control.

Wincing, Brin still risked a glance towards his eldest.  Lucky for him, Vadze didn’t seem to have heard.  

Gaila had determined the game of tag needed more adventure and gone up a tree.  Vadze was guarding her hiding spot, considering his fingernails with a blatant lie of nonchalance—anyone who dared trespass in his domain would be chased within an inch of their life.

(Honestly, he probably wanted to play too, but was worried it wouldn’t look cool enough.)

 And knowing Gaila, she might just have climbed the tree to make him participate.  Brin hadn’t given her quite enough credit at first. Right after he and Vadze had made up, Gaila had informed Brin quite seriously that she would forgive him for making Vadze cry this once, but only if Brin made brownies again.  Also, she was going to be the best alpha ever, and she and Vadze would be best friends, and also fight side by side until they amassed a huge territory, and then get married.  

Whether Vadze had been privy to these marriage plans remained to be seen, but it was pretty great to see Vadze grimacing as the passing breeze wrecked his hairstyle.

“But I thought,” Raifa considered the sleeping babies (who knew?  Seemed like sunlight made them pass out).  “Evie and Destin…”

“Evie and Destin, yes,” Brin said patiently, “But also Kyr—“  He broke off and frowned.  “Huh.  Didn’t I tell you this already?”

“Not exactly,” Raifa said before adding anxiously, “But it’s okay.  You don’t have to talk about it.  I opened my mouth before I considered that it might be a sore subject and I’m kind of kicking myself now.  Oh boy.”

Brin squinted up at him a little puzzled.  Brin hadn’t meant to tell him any of it at the start.  He hadn’t meant to get involved with anyone.  But Raifa just sort of elbowed his way in and now Brin was completely confused there was a subject they’d missed since he felt like Raifa was already privy to every embarrassing, messy detail.

“—And oh my god, I don’t even know why I asked that in the first place.  Is it my business?  No, it is not.  Nosiness is a bad habit.  Wait, I mean, don’t take that the wrong way.  Kyr is very talented—“

“Raifa!”  Temer cupped her hands to her mouth.  “You have to come back and play!  No one can keep up with me—“  She struck a pose.  “—because I am the best!”  With a growl, her brothers launched herself at her.  Temer went down in a flail of limbs.  Kyr, who had already withdrawn from their battles, edged further away and threw blades of grass at them with shouts of encouragement.

“Ah, a distraction,” Raifa said happily, and then looked so utterly guilty about it that Brin laughed.  

“I need some more blue beads.”

“Sure thing,” Raifa said, examining the contents of his lap with interest.  Brin strung a few more beads onto the string, considering where to start.

“How much do you want to know?”  He finally asked.  “I can start at the beginning, but that might break your rules about oversharing.”

“It’s not oversharing,” Raifa answered.  His ears had gone dark again.  “I just want to know too much, that’s all.  Don’t enable a sick man, Brin, that’s terrible.”

Gaila poked her head out of the tree branches.  “Get him, guys!”  She whooped, flailing a fist.  “My minion, go forth!”  

“Your what now?” Vadze did not seem impressed. Gaila threw a twig at him and he sidestepped it, continuing to look unimpressed.  “I have a better idea,” he said, suddenly grinning, and grabbed a branch to swing himself up.  Gaila squealed in panic, and in the ensuing scuffle, leaves rained down.

“Don’t fall!” Brin called over.

“Urgh,” Vadze muttered.  “Yes, Mom.”

“HI, BRIN!  AND OKAY!”

“You know,” Raifa went on, lifting his head.  Brin looked over at him.  The sunlight was dazzling.  “You really are a good mom.  Crazy good.”

“Hm,” Brin said, but he didn’t argue.  He was getting better about that.  Mostly because his therapist had insisted on him trying something new. ‘Self-esteem exercises.’  

Sounded like a load of bullshit to Brin, but whatever.  Telling Vadze about them had actually gotten his son to laugh out loud.  Brin had been grinning for the rest of the week.

“Where are my blue beads?” Brin demanding, snapping his fingers at Raifa.

“Yes, yes.”

“Mooooom, Sable hit me!”

“Minions aren’t supposed to rub leaves in—no, not the hair—!!”

“Oops.  Seril, you okay?”

“Hey, short stack, don’t complain.   Aren’t you supposed to be tougher than that?”

“…Did you mean it?”

“Huh?”  Raifa looked up.

“Did you mean it,” Brin repeated.  “What you said to me way back when.  About your ulterior motives?”

“Huh?”

“The thing is,” Brin said, clearing his throat, “I thought about it.  And I get your point.  But the thing is—uh—“  He suddenly couldn’t get the next bead on the string.

“Brin?”

“—what if I actually wanted you to know?  What if I wanted you to know everything?  Because your ulterior motive is completely fine with me.  Really.”

Okay, he really wished he could stop talking now.

His feelings, on the other hand, had accepted one blue bead too many.

“And I kind of,” he sucked in the deepest breath he possibly could and risked a glance up at Raifa, “I kind of want to know everything about you too.”

Raifa was staring.

“Say something?” Brin pleaded.

Raifa gave a slow shake of his head.  “No way. Now you’re the one babbling.  Let me have my moment.”  His finger brushed Brin’s cheek.  It felt cold.  Brin was definitely blushing all over the place.  He glared sharply, but it probably wasn’t much of a distraction.

(Deep down he kind of knew that his glares at Raifa looked a lot like Vadze’s attempts to glare at Gaila.)

(And maybe had for a long while, because Raifa was wearing this hopeless little smile all of a sudden and oh, would you look at that, Brin’s face actually could get hotter—)

He didn’t get much further than that.

The sun streamed down in a never-ending offer of warmth, and the sky had never been so blue, or the grass so soft.

“Ew, gross,” Seril muttered, and made gagging noises.

Temer shrieked.  “Mom and Dad are kissing!!”

From the treetops there was a squealed “yes!” and a snort followed by a faint mutter of “finally.”

[acidmatze]

In which Dabi increasingly thinks that he is stuck in a third rate emo music video

I have no idea why I wrote this. But it wanted to be written. This is Part 1 of the obligatory College AU and everyone is a dork. 

It’s not proof read or anything.. Im tired...

It was a kinda gloomy afternoon in late October when it all started. It was raining and the dorm was crowded with students that normally were walking around town but with weather that bad no one really wanted to go out.

Dabi was sitting on the windowsill in the common room and stared outside.

Spinner was in some kind of fight with two other students about some hockey game.

Twice tried to watch some motorcycle race on TV.

He then suddenly jumped and walked over to Dabi with just a few really big steps.

“Dabi, I have an idea!”

Dabi lazily turned around to his friend.

“Shoot.”

“So far we have befriended three people. But I think we need a lot more friends. There are a lot of people here on campus that don't seem to have many friends and no one should walk alone around here. You know, we all need someone to talk to and stuff. You know??”

Dabi blinked a few times.

For some reason since summer, Twice seemed to be obsessed with walking around and trying to talk to people he never talked to before. Dabi was just dragged along. At first Twice started hanging out with Spinner. Then he almost stalked some weird guy called Chisaki. And then his friends. Dabi always felt the weird need to apologise for Twice's behaviour but somehow in the end it all worked out and their circle of friends grew.

Twice blabbered on

“There's this girl I have a few classes with and she's like.. two years younger than us or so I have no idea how she is in college already but she is. I have never seen her with people around and I think we should change that.”

“Uh.... okay? How do you wanna do that?”

“I'm just gonna talk to her on Monday. What do you think?”

“Dunno? Go ahead I guess...?”

Dabi had a vague idea which girl Twice meant.

She was blonde and short and could be cute but there was an eerie air surrounding her. But since Twice's group of friends was a ragtag bunch of misfits she would be fit in just fine. Twice himself was a giant goofball sometimes. In one moment it seemed like he was just a kid trapped in the body of a tall guy in his early 20s. In another moment he would shout the most obscene things anyone has ever heard. Be it in the hallway, in the middle of a lecture, while eating lunch and sometimes in the middle of the night. Dabi knew because even though his room was further down the hallway he could still hear his friend's yelling. It woke him up semi-regularly.

And on some days Twice would just break down sobbing and fled to the bathroom and wouldn't come back for a few hours.

He had no idea about what happened afterwards.

Dabi himself also was far from being the average college student. First of all the appearance.

Then his type of humour.   He often insulted people without meaning to because for him it was just friendly banter. And his careless attitude pissed people off. For reasons Dabi cannot explain. What's so bad about not blowing up at every single thing?

“I haven't felt an emotion since 1997” he often said.

“Look how many fucks I give. They are falling from the sky” he also often said.

Chisaki, the first guy they “recruited” was terribly afraid of bacteria and getting ill. They never saw him without wearing gloves and a face mask.

No hand shaking or friendly hugs allowed, thank you.

Please just wave in my general direction.

He was often seen furiously wiping seats, benches, tables, kitchen counters and other places you can sit on.

Sometimes Dabi wondered if it was a good idea for him to study medicine.

On the other hand, if he would become a surgeon no one would need to worry about keeping the operating room sterile.

“We only have guy friends. We also need some girl friends. Not girlfriends... well, maybe those too but I mean like.. girls. Who are our friends.”

“I get what you mean, Twice and I agree. This group is a sausage fest.”

Two days later when Dabi walked to his next lecture he saw Twice down at the campus plaza wildly gesticulating and talking to that girl he wanted to talk to.

She didn't seem to mind.

As far as Dabi could see, whatever Twice was talking about must be funny since she was laughing.

Good. Another weirdo joined the group. Let's see what this eerie feeling is about.

Dabi almost bumped into another student he didn't even had noticed.

“Whoa there. Didn't see you there buddy. Sorry.”

The other student shot a quick glance at Dabi and walked a bit faster. Well, okay...? Maybe he's late for class. Though in his oversized black clothes he almost looked like a high school student.

Weird kid.

This time the common room was almost empty, even though it was raining again.

Why is it always raining the last few weeks?

Dabi stared out of the window again.

“Is this interesting?” Chisaki asked.

“I'm pretending to be an emo girl in a music video. I'm currently missing my boyfriend who broke up with me to fuck my best friend.”  

“Okay?”

“It is complicated, you know? He just bought me an expensive ring and told me we will be together forever but then at a party my bff flirted with him and he didn't do anything and now I'm so angry I think I will set his apartment in flames.”

“Dabi? Are you... okay?”

Dabi turned around to Chisaki and pretended to be crying.

“No! I am depressed! I was so in love with him, Rawr!”

Chisaki stared at Dabi for ten seconds.

“Please. Don't say this ever again.”

“Rawr means I Love You in Dinosaur!”

Before Chisaki could smack the lanky bean in the face Twice stormed into the room.

“Guys! Guys, we have a new friend! Say hello to Toga!”

The short girl from earlier today stood in the doorway grinning way too wide for her face.

“Hiiiii~ I'm Toga! I'm so happy to meet you all! Very happy indeed.”

What is up with those teeth? Dabi had never seen canines that sharp. He had heard that some people let their teeth sharpen. But until now he thought someone was playing a very elaborate prank on him. But seems those people seriously exist.

A wave of eeriness hit him.

There's something about this girl that's definitely not normal. But who in this weird clique is normal anyway?

“So what do you guys do all day? You all look totally different, do you even have common hobbies? Like Twicey here looks like a MMA fighter and you look like a law student and you look like you beat up kids and then go home and write sad poems about it.”

Dabi's eye twitched slightly.

“Also you look stoned!”

It twitched even more.

“Law student.....” Chisaki muttered, “I have never been more insulted in my life.”

“We're just hanging out. And sometimes we go play pool and stuff” Twice said.

“Oh that's cool. I collect knives. Do you want to see some?”

Toga was beaming.

Okay, so that's what's wrong with her. That explains so much to be honest.

“I don't think anyone would be interested in....”

Dabi cut Chisaki off.

“Sure we want.”

And a few minutes later they were standing around in Toga's room. Which looked like a normal girl's room. Except for the wall of knives where other girls maybe had posters hanging.

But otherwise, very normal, very pink.

Toga pointed at one of the knives.

“This is the first one I got. I found it one day on a playground. I took it home and cleaned it and sharpened it.” She pointed at another that had sharp wedges.

“This is really great when you want someone to bleed out. When you stab someone with it and they try to rip it out the teeth just get stuck and do more damage. I bought it at a hunting store a few years ago.”

Whoa. Chisaki had gone completely pale. Twice seemed nervous too. Did they have to worry that this girl would break into their rooms at night to do Horrible Things to them?

“I see your worried faces and I want to reassure you that I only collect them.”

At least she's sane.

“I also collect other things! Like articles from the newspapers.” Toga shuffled over to a drawer that was completely plastered with hearts and peace signs and whatnot.

She pulled out a folder and went through the pages a bit.

“Here. This one, for example is about a case of unexplained murders in the 80s. I have collected every little bit of information I could find about it. Which is very hard by the way. Do you know how weird it feels to google all that stuff? And this one is about that guy who abducted and killed five women like a year ago.”

Nope, completely insane.

But in a weirdly nerdy way.

“And now I am collecting stuff about a string of weird cases of mutilated animals found on roadsides around Yokohama. No one really investigates that! Can you believe it? Just because it's not people. I think that's not fair. Animals have lives too.”

She closed the folder and huffed.

Dabi crossed his arms.

“So you're like... playing detective? Finding out more about it?”

Toga's face lit up.

“Wow, I never thought about that. I could totally find out the truth. I know everything!”

Chisaki leaned over to Dabi and whispered: “Hey, can we go now? I still have to write an essay and also this is creeping me out.”

“Dunno man. I think that's definitely a weird hobby but she seems harmless.”, Dabi whispered back.

“Yeah maybe, but I'm out, cheers.”

Chisaki marched out of the room without even saying goodbye.

Twice and Dabi remained.

“Oh nooooo I scared him away.”

“He's just horrible when it comes to blood” Twice tried to explain.

“Oh yeah you should have seen his face, when I was hit by a baseball once and it almost knocked out a tooth. I thought he would faint any second.”

Toga grinned.

“He really acts like a law student.”

“He studies medicine.” Twice said.

Toga just stared at the guy.

“You're joking, right?”

Twice shook his head.

And then Toga had a hysterical laughing fit that lasted so long that Dabi briefly considered to call an ambulance.

It was already dark when Twice and Dabi went back to their rooms. The fact that it was already dark didn't mean that it was late though. The sun was already setting at 6pm.    

“She's weird as fuck but I'd be lying if I would say what she said wasn't interesting. I don't know why I would need to know about serial killers but somehow I do now.”

Dabi was rambling.

“So you like her? You think she fits in with us?”

“Yeah kinda. Maybe. But I don't mind her hanging out with us.”

Twice pumped his fist in the air.

“Yeah! A new friend! Oh can you wait here for a minute? I wanna head over to the kiosk and get some snacks.”

“Sure. Knock yourself out.”

Dabi leaned back at the wall and Twice hurried out of the main door.

Empty corridors. Silence.

Pretending to be a a girl in some music video again, Dabi imagined walking down the hallways crying about some lost love and unfair parents. For some reason the sprinklers were on. The eyeliner is running dramatically over the wet cheeks. Emo girl is looking at her wrist where she wrote the name of her ex with a sharpie. It's also running from the water from the sprinklers. Some guitar solo is playing in the background. Emo girl gets angry and punches the wall.

She swears revenge. Maybe burning something down would help. Maybe destroying things....

“Hey, what are you doing there?”

Dabi looked up. Oh, he really had wandered through the hallway. But without the sprinklers and the sharpie and the cheating boyfriend.

In front of him stood the guy from before. Black oversized hoodie, black jeans, black Converse. God, is that a Senses Fail patch?

How emo, Dabi thought, ignoring the fact that he also has a Senses Fail patch on his backpack.

No one needs to know.

The guy still stares at him.

Oh Jesus, please someone get him lip balm. And some moisturiser. Because this dude looks dead.

“I was just dramatically walking around, thinking about my cheating boyfriend.”

“What?”

“Ah nothing. It was a joke. Sorry again for bumping into you earlier.”

“Ah. Its fine.” The guy shoved his hands back in his pockets and walked back in the direction he came from.

That's not where the dorms are. Weird.

“Hey Dabi, I'm back”

Dabi was lightly punched in the shoulder.

“Nice. Dude, have you seen that weird dude in the wannabe emo clothes just now?”

Twice seemed confused.

“Emo dude..? No. I haven't seen anyone.”

Dabi scratched his head.

He also never had seen that guy before. Is he a ghost or something?

Over the next few days Dabi ran into that guy over and over again. But every time he asked someone about him, no one had an idea who he was talking about. He ran into him in the bathroom during lunch break. He ran into him in the library. He ran into him while running cross campus to catch a bus. Had this dude always been there and Dabi just didn't notice?

“You always look like you're searching for something. Are you okay?” Toga asked. They were walking down a popular shopping street in town. Toga wanted to meet with a friend of hers and asked everyone if they want to come with her but only Dabi agreed.

“I think I might have seen a ghost. Also, I'm not okay.”

Toga's eyes went wide. “A ghost?? A really spooky one? The one that haunts your dreams by night? Where have you seen it?”

“Everywhere, basically. And he even shows up during the day. I need proof that this guy really exists.”

“Wooooooooow..... A real mystery. Maybe my friend can help you. She's great with mysteries.”

They arrived at a small café.

Toga was running towards some guy in brown cargo pants who was waving at her. But didn't Toga say “she”? Oh. Okay.

Then Toga ran back to Dabi grabbed his arm and pulled him with her.

“This is my best friend, Magne. She's basically like my sister. If you need help with mysteries, then talk to her.”

Dabi awkwardly shook her hand. Wow that's a strong handshake. “I took the liberty of already ordering some cake for me. I just couldn't wait. So, what is this mystery you are talking about?” They sat down at one of the small tables. It was weirdly warm for October this week so somehow everyone was still outside.

“Basically I am chasing a guy only I can see, it seems. I never have seen him before but suddenly he is everywhere. But when I ask someone about him no one knows what I'm talking about.” Dabi explained.

“Wow that really is something. By the way, Toga you should order the Strawberry Shortcake it's the best I have ever eaten. Okay, so if you need proof that this mysterious guy really exists you maybe should take a picture of him?”

“Isn't that creepy as fuck?”

“Well, for me it would be way creepier if I would see a guy no one else can see. If you can take a picture of him you know he's real at least.”

That girl has a point there.

Sadly, after this the guy vanished. Over the course of the next weeks Dabi grew more and more frustrated.

He felt like he was stuck in some third rate emo music video.

Maybe he should let his hair grow out a bit and get blue streaks. “Dabi, you look like you're constipated. Do you need help?” Chisaki offered one day.

“I'm not okay” Dabi mumbled.

“Yeah I can see that. Seriously, if you have problems with your digestive system, I know some drops that really...”

“I can shit just fine, Chisaki.” “Oh. Then.. care to explain what's wrong?”

Dabi sprawled himself out on his bed.

Chisaki was standing in the middle of the room. He forgot his wipes and spray and wasn't brave enough to take a seat on Dabi's really old office chair.

Dabi groaned.

“This guy...... This weird guy I told you about... The one I am always running into. I'm not running into him anymore.”

Chisaki furrowed his brows.

“And that's a problem why...?”

Dabi sat up and threw his arms in the air.

“It makes me feel like a fucking madman! I know this guy exists. I have even talked to him like once. Almost. He needs some damn lip balm and looks like dead itself. And now that I was ready to take a pic of him and prove his existence once and for all he vanishes!”

“You want to take a pic of him?”

Dabi groaned again.

“I know that sounds like a stalker. But I just wanna prove that he exists. It seems like no one but me has ever seen him.”

“Dude... you do you. But who knows. Maybe he was an intern or stuff. I wouldn't waste a single thought about the whole thing.”

So Dabi tried to not waste a single thought about the whole thing.

He tried so hard and got so far. But in the end, it doesn't even matter. Because two days later he caught himself looking for that guy again.

It was already close to Christmas. And the dude remained gone.

Dabi was in the library looking for some books to read. Maybe that would distract him. He just wanted to check out when he saw him. Emo dude. With the oversized hoodie. Coming in through the front door. Dabi almost dropped his books. He imagined he was a girl in an emo music video who sees her crush. He walks past her and their eyes meet. Maybe he was smiling, maybe he was not. Everything is in slow motion. The people around them vanish. It's only those two. When he passed her everything is back to normal. Guitar solo.

Dabi wanted to slam his fucking books on the floor.

Then he walks into emo dude while crossing a bridge. Okay, emo music video. It's raining. Girl was just dumped by some stupid jackass. She is desperate and doesn't know what to do. Maybe she should jump but the bridge isn't really high. She's nervous. After contemplating for a while she sees Him. Some emo dude walking towards her, asking her if everything is alright. It's still raining but also now the sun is shining. Everything is well now even though there is still sadness in her heart. Forever. Guitar solo.

Dabi seriously contemplates to jump into the river below.

The third time he runs into him is at a bus stop. Some old lady is also there but that's it.

“Hold still!” Dabi says harshly and the guy looks at him, startled.

Dabi takes out his cellphone and takes a pic of the dude.

“What...... why...?”

“I explain later. Don't worry, I will delete the pic soon. I just have to prove something to someone.”

Emo dude is chewing on his lower lip. His leg seems shaky. Dabi sighs.

“Look. I know that was creepy as fuck but you won't believe the hell I went through to get this pic. As soon as I prove that you exists I will delete it.” “That I exist..?”

“Yeah.”

Fuck that sounds stupid. Oh god so stupid and creepy and.... hell, Dabi has to explain this seriously now.

He groans.

“Okay, there is no way to explain this without sounding weird. Remember back in October when I almost ran you over?” Emo dude nods. Dabi can see strands of blueish grey hair. Is that dye?

“Good. I thought to that day I had seen everyone on campus. But I never had seen you. So I asked my friend about you and he said he doesn't know about you. And he literally is friends with everyone. And then I kept running into you. But every time I wanted my friend to look at you you vanished. Like a fucking ghost or something. It was... kinda pissing me off somehow. And we kept running into each other but I was either alone or you did that magical vanishing thing.”

Emo kid stared at Dabi in silence.

“I kinda got all riled up about this. And then I didn't see you again and I seriously thought I was going crazy or had seen a ghost or something. A friend had told me to take a picture to prove it. But then I couldn't because I didn't see you. But now I did. And now I can prove it. And now I can have peace of mind.”

The dude still stared at Dabi.

Ah fuck.

Oh, wait.

Dabi pulled out the phone again.

“I could also delete the pic right now. And take you to my friends instead. You know... In the flesh?”

“You want me to meet your friends..?”

Dabi nodded.

“You're always alone. Maybe you could need some friends.”

“Friends....” Emo dude looked at the ground. Spit stains everywhere, ewwww.

“Okay... Take me to your friends.”

“Ah I can't today. Maybe we could meet at that church at 4pm tomorrow?”

Emo dude shrugged.

“Okay....”

Dabi wanted to shake his hand, but emo dude didn't react. He awkwardly pulled his hand back and coughed.

“Okay then.... Until tomorrow. And I'm Dabi, by the way.”

“Tomura... I'm Tomura...”

Then Dabi's bus arrived. Time to visit his mom in the hospital.

He sat down at the window.

Okay. Emo music video. Girl just had a date but it didn't go as planned. Maybe she should have listened to her bff, she had a bad feeling about this all the time. It's raining. It's also raining in emo girl's heart. She had sadness for breakfast. She should have stayed home and spend the time with her bff instead. Now that she thinks about it, bff was always there for her. Every time emo girl needed a shoulder to cry on bff was there. The rain represents the tears she wants to cry but cannot because this is a public setting and that would be embarrassing. Emo girl thinks maybe she should have dated bff instead. There is thunder in the background as the bus drives into the darkness. Guitar solo.  

[fire-bear]

I'd like #2 for both sentence and dialogue. USUK of course :)

“Warnings”:

Both of them in one!

Which has made it rather long.

It’s not exactly USUK? It’s more the start of USUK. Like, it’ll develop but there is absolutely no romance in this. Sorry. ^^” Unless you squint, I guess. Sort of. I mean, there’s blushing…?

Arthur is younger than Alfred. That’s, apparently, my thing?

As well as the teddy bears, of course. They’re in there, too.

I kind of made it so long because I was sort of developing an entire universe and plan for a bigger story than what this is. ^^”

AMagical Sleep

The Maskelyne School for Magic sprawled across theestate, a mixture of new and old, sleek and rickety. Faint noisesreached the gate: bangs and yells and laughter. A ring of treesencircled the buildings, a path of African daisies, asters, chamomileand heather winding its way through their roots. Signs had been tiedto trees and to the lampposts planted at regular intervals along thebrick pathways in order to direct new students and visitors to theirdestinations. Half of the lampposts seemed to be powered by gaswhilst the others were up to date, electric ones with the bulbs toreduce light pollution.

Magic thrummed through the air and Arthur Kirkland,third year and newcomer to the school, felt elated to be there.

He was also a little nervous. Because of his abundanceof magical prowess, he had been allowed to skip all the generalisedyears and go straight to the advanced, specialised classes. Since hehadn’t wanted to miss out on all of school life, he had compromisedwith starting in third year so that he had four years of schoolinstead of just two.

But that meant that he would be a twelve year oldamongst fourteen year olds.

Would they hate him? Everyone at his primary school andthose with him during his short time in his local high school hadthought him odd. They’d made fun of his love of plants and storiesabout magic. When he’d scored highly in tests, they’d also made funof him and Arthur had come to realise that a lot of the olderstudents had resented that he was already on their level. Would it bethe same here?

Shaking his head at his thoughts, he tightened his gripon his rolling suitcase. He’d enchanted it to transport things storedin his wardrobe to the school so he wouldn’t need boxes; his parentshad no excuse to walk him to his dormitory and embarrass him.Speaking of his dormitory, it was, according to the map by the gate,just beyond the bridge which connected a flashy, glass building witha wobbling wooden one. Having already said goodbye to his family atthe car, he made his way through the crowds of returning studentsalone, trying to look as though he belonged. The returning studentsalways arrived a week earlier than the first years in order to besettled in before the unstable and temperamental magical childrenturned up to wreak havoc on things – which meant Arthur wascurrently the only new face amongst them.

As Arthur passed by, he looked around at them all,noting the groups of friends chattering to each other. They allseemed much older and taller than him. Their magical auras pulsedwith their elation or their irritation. It was almost enough tooverwhelm Arthur. But he continued on his way and forced his own aurato shrink in an effort to lessen their affect on him.

Finally, he passed under the bridge and, when heblinked, realised the buildings had changed places. Instead of atall, stone cathedral, a wide brick building sat before him. Therewere rows of windows neatly spaced and Arthur realised he must be infront of his dormitory. The third year dormitory. He fervently hopedthat the fourteen year old he would be sharing with wouldn’t mindbeing forced to live with someone younger than him.

Checking the information, Arthur made sure he found theright room. Although, considering the magic pulsing through thebuilding, Arthur had a sneaking suspicion that it was easy due to thebuilding rather than his own sense of direction. He hesitated infront of the door, staring at the number 4-7neatly placed in the middle, just above his head. Then, before hecould convince himself that there was a chance they’d let him havehis own room, he knocked twice and tried the door. It opened easily.

Inside, the room was a little bigger than he hadexpected, the window in the centre of the rearmost wall. On eitherside of it was a bed with bedside tables directly underneath it, theleft table holding a small lamp. Desks were shoved together againstthe opposite wall to the right of where he stood and a door to the ensuite bathroom was to his left. On his right were two wardrobes and achest of drawers, the bottom two drawers open due to the clotheswithin. The left bed had already been made, an American flag on thesheets. Above the bed were several posters of superheroes and filmposters.

And, sitting up from where he had been lying, was a boya little older than Arthur.

Or, rather, as Arthurlooked at him, he realised he seemed a lotolder. And a lottaller.

The boy had blond hairwhich was a mess, a particular cowlick at the front of his headlooking as though it was an antenna. A pair of glasses sat upon hishead, sitting at an angle and all smudged. His blue eyes blinked atArthur as he stepped into the room, seemingly confused. Then heglanced at the empty bed beside him, grinned and stood.

He was a veritable giant.

“Hiya!” the boy exclaimed, thrusting his hand out.“I’m Alfred F. Jones. You must be… Uh…?”

“Arthur Kirkland,” he responded, trying not to feelintimidated by the fact that he only came up to the middle ofAlfred’s chest. He released his tight grip on his suitcase andclasped the boy’s hand to shake.

When Alfred squeezed his hand, he was sure he brokebones.

With a cry, Arthur yanked his hand away, staring up atAlfred with wide eyes. The other boy grimaced. “Gosh, I’m sosorry,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I… I keepforgetting my strength…”

“What?” Arthur asked, flexing his hand to becompletely sure he still had full use of it.

“Oh, um, I only cameinto my magic recently. It’s Personalismagic and I still don’t have full control of it at times.”

“Recently?” Arthur asked, blinking at him.

“Yeah, like, when I turned thirteen.”

“So, last year?” Arthur said, not understanding whyAlfred didn’t just say that.

“Nah, two years ago,” Alfred explained,off-handedly. “I got held back a year.”

“Oh.”

For a moment, they stared at each other. Then Alfredgave a nervous laugh and turned back to his bed, flopping onto it andletting it bounce him around till he was lying on his back. Arthurawkwardly smiled at him and proceeded to his bed, dragging hissuitcase with him. When he reached the bed, he picked it up andplaced it upon it. Then he began to unpack, looking for the sheets heknew were in his wardrobe.

“This might be kinda a dumb question,” Alfredsuddenly piped up, “but how’d ya fit all that in there?”

Blinking, Arthur looked over his many books and clothesand pens and notebooks that were spread across his bed. “Uh,magic,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I enchanted the suitcase totransport what was in my wardrobe here.”

“Woah! Really?!” Alfred exclaimed. “That’s…That’s amazing! I bet no-one else in third year could do that!”

“Oh. Um, I see,” said Arthur, grimacing. If he wasthat far ahead of them, he really hoped they wouldn’t hate himfor it.

“It’s really cool! What’s the basis of your magic,then?”

Bewildered at theinterest, Arthur shrugged. “Transportation magic comes under Locusmagic but my firstmagic was Naturalismagic. I prefer Naturalismagic, actually.” Arthur stopped himself there before he revealedhis biggest secret.

Alfred looked so astonished that Arthur almost laughed.His eyes were wide and his lips were parted. “Wait, you can do twotypes already?! And you only just came into your magic?!”

“No, I’ve had magic all my life. My parents aremagicians, too.”

“Huh?” Alfred frowned at him, scratching at hishead and knocking his glasses until they were further skewed. “But…These are the third year dorms. You’re fourteen, right?”

Ducking his head, Arthur shrugged a shoulder. “I…skipped some years. I’m twelve.”

“You’re twelve?!!”Alfred shrieked.

Pouting at his obvious disbelief, Arthur lifted hishead to look at Alfred. “Sorry for not meeting your expectations.”

“No, no, that’s- It’s just… You’re really cool!”Alfred looked so earnest: his eyes were wide as he leaned towardsArthur, his fists clenched as he tried to convey how sincere he was.

At Alfred’s reaction, Arthur blushed and looked away.“O-Oh…”

There was a shortpause. “Aha, you’re really cute,too!”

“Sh-Shut up!”Arthur exclaimed, spinning on his heel to continue unpacking. Silencedescended between them and Arthur began to wish he had Personalismagic as well so he could will away his blush. Once he had gotten outeverything he needed, he made his way to his designated wardrobe andbegan to hang up his clothes, specifically his school uniform. It wasas he was doing this that Alfred decided to break the silence.

“This is probably another dumb question but, uh, doyou sleep in the dark?”

Confused, Arthur looked over his shoulder at him. “Um.Yes?”

“Oh. It’s just…” Alfred glanced at the lamp onhis bedside table.

“Ah. I don’t mind if you keep it on. Whatever helpsyou sleep at night.”

“Yay! Thanks!” said Alfred, waving his hands in theair in celebration. Arthur bit his lip to keep from laughing and wentback to his work.

It only took a few days of inductions andintroductions to classes for Arthur to realise that the reason forAlfred keeping his lamp on wasn’t because of a fear of the dark.There was something he was deeply afraid of and it wouldn’t let himsleep. Every night for a week, Arthur was woken by shouts of ‘No!’and 'Stop! Please!’. Alfred was never willing to talk aboutit.

Ignoring that issue, Alfred was a rather nice guy. Hehad already been at the school for long enough that he was able toguide Arthur around. And he was kind enough not to make fun of Arthurfor bringing teddies to comfort him. Not only that, but Alfred wasalways excited to talk about magic, eager to learn more despitehaving a horrible affinity for anything that wasn’t Personalis.As well as that, he liked a lot of the shows and films Arthur wasfond of and was willing to sneakily show Arthur films deemed too oldfor him – though Arthur had refused to watch anything scary,considering how often Alfred had nightmares.

Arthur considered Alfred a good friend already – andhe was concerned.

It wasn’t healthy for Alfred to be woken in the dead ofnight and spend the rest of it whimpering. His natural Personalismagic would help him stay awake but he needed some way of stayingasleep or, at the very least, helping him get back to sleep. So, justbefore classes started properly, Arthur called his parents and, a fewdays later, he came back to their room to find a large teddy bearsitting on his bed. Alfred was on his own bed, glancing betweenArthur and the teddy.

“It… just appeared. Outta nowhere,” he said,sounding awed.

“It’s from my mum,” Arthur said, grinning at him.“She’s really good at Locus magic.”

“Oh. Uh…” Alfred’s expression became strained.“What’s it for?”

“You,” answered Arthur, dropping his bag andhurrying over. “But it’s not ready yet. I just need to put a spellon it.”

“Wha-? Me? Why?”

“To help you with your nightmares. Now, shush.”Arthur clambered onto the bed and crawled over to it. He placed hishands on either side of the bear’s head and began to mutter thespell. Despite keeping his eyes on the massive toy, he could feelAlfred’s intense gaze as he watched him work; it made him a littlenervous. Finally, he finished the spell and willed some of his Mentismagic into the teddy.

Alfred must have felt the magic working because hewaited until Arthur was finished before he spoke again. “So, uh,this might be a dumb question, but how is that going to help mesleep?”

Rolling his eyes, Arthur hugged the teddy – andimmediately felt all his worries slip away. Earlier that day, he hadbeen uncertain whether to hide the extent of his abilities anddecided against it. He had noted that a lot of people were mutteringabout him and he had grown worried that they resented him. Now, itdidn’t seem like such a pressing matter and he knew the bear wouldwork perfectly for Alfred.

“If you hug this, you’ll be able to sleep,” Arthurtold him, shuffling backwards so he could get off the bed.

“That is such a-” Alfred began with a huff oflaughter. He trailed off, though, when Arthur finally wriggled offhis own bed, crossed the room and thrust the large bear at him. Aftera moment of stillness, Alfred sighed and took the teddy from him.“Like this?” he asked, his voice flat. Arthur waited until Alfredhad squeezed the teddy close and looked at him in amazement to smirkdown at him, hands on his hips.

“The bear will calm your worries and comfort you. Itshould work well enough to stop your nightmares or help you sleepafterwards.” Arthur paused, tapping a finger against his chin as hestared up at the ceiling. “I think it should last around a monthbefore the spell wears off and I’ll have to cast it again. Maybe, bythat point, I’ll be better at my Mentis magic and I can makeit last longer.”

“You’re amazing,” Alfred breathed, his eyes wide.

Arthur grinned at him. “Of course.”

Over the next few weeks, Arthur learnt more aboutAlfred. His parents weren’t magicians and had moved their family fromAmerica to England when he was just thirteen. The Master Magiciansbelieved that he had come into his magic then because of theupheaval. Alfred claimed it was because he wished really hard on hisbirthday cake to gain superpowers.

Though he had been delighted to discover his newpowers, it was not without drawbacks, such as ruining their lovelynew house. Not only that but Personalis magic came with itsown risks and usually wasn’t taught until fourth year. Alfred wasgetting his own special classes: they seemed to haunt him afterwardsand he used the bear before they even went to sleep on those days.

Despite these worrying signs, Alfred loved magic,though he seemed to think of it as superpowers and often tried toapply science to them. He could often be found in the Newer Librarywhere he would be reading the new science books. As such, he seemedto have a lot of difficulty mastering the simpler spells.

He loved puppies and kittens and had to have one ofeach taken from him one night when he went exploring and found someon the edges of the estate. When he discovered the birds of preywhich were kept in the hidden aviary, he had tried to befriend thelargest bird there and ended up with bandages over his hands. Hisfavourite ice cream was definitely Cookie Dough and he preferredCadbury’s chocolate over any other. Though his laugh was loud, it waspleasant and Arthur always found himself smiling when he heard it.

But, even with all these things Arthur now knew, hestill didn’t know why he had nightmares or what they were about. Theteddy bear worked, thankfully, and Alfred was able to get more sleepthanks to it. Arthur was proud of himself – but he was also worriedabout his friend.

Something Arthur also noticed were Alfred’s questions.They could range from difficult to explain (“How does Mentismagic even work? I mean, how do you tweak someone’s brain to makethem feel good or whatever?”) to downright stupid (“Did you justmake that float?!”). After a couple of weeks, Arthur was more thanused to it. So, that night, he was ready for anything.

“Can I ask a dumb question?” Alfred asked, leaningagainst the large teddy.

“Better than anyone I know,” Arthur answered as hescribbled in the last answer on the worksheet he was working on. Heignored Alfred’s protest before setting his pen down and turning sohe could peer at Alfred over the back of his chair. “What’s wrongnow?”

Alfred grumbled to himself for a moment, just to letArthur know that he was protesting against his treatment. “Well, isit just me or is this teddy not working much any more?”

Arthur blinked at him for a moment. Then he hopped offhis chair and made his way over. “Give it here,” he said, holdingout his arms for it. Alfred did as he was told and Arthur hugged it,trying not to topple over from the weight of it. He squeezed it tightand waited for a feeling of being enveloped in a comforting hug. Nonecame, just a slight feeling of happiness at having something to hug.He scrunched his nose up and sighed. “The spell’s worn off.”

“Can ya put it on it again?”

“Of course,” Arthur answered, setting it down onhis bed.

“You’re the best, Artie! Man, I’m not sure what I’ddo without you. You gotta let me do something nice for ya sometime soI don’t feel so bad! Anything you need!” Alfred crossed his heartas if that would seal the deal.

Snorting, Arthur rolled his eyes and clambered onto hisbed to do the spell. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The power went out in the middle of the night.Arthur was unaware of that until he woke to Alfred’s usual cries.Gasping, his eyes flew open and he looked around, trying to force hissluggish brain to work out where he was. All he could see, however,was darkness. Alfred’s cries suddenly broke off and changed towhimpers. Arthur listened, waiting to hear if he would relax. Therewas some shuffling noises, slapping noises and then a sharp intake ofbreath.

“Alfred?” Arthur mumbled. “Are you okay?”

“A-Artie?” There was a brief silence. “Can… CanI ask a dumb question?”

“Better than anyone I know,” Arthur answered,rubbing at his eyes.

That got a huff of laughter from Alfred. “Yeah. Well.Can you see right now?”

“No. Hang on.” Arthur reluctantly pulled his handfrom under the covers and felt around for his phone. He pressed thebutton. Nothing happened and he grimaced; he’d forgotten to charge itover the last few days and had finally plugged it in before theyturned the lights off. Clearly, there was no power whatsoever. “Powercut,” he informed Alfred. “Either someone’s been messing withpowerful magic or it’s just a regular power cut.”

“Ah.” Another silence fell but, this time, it wasinterrupted by shuffling and slapping and even a thud followed byAlfred’s muttered curses. “I.. I…” he murmured, sounding alittle frantic. His breathing was getting heavier, too, and Arthurrealised he was panicking.

“What’s wrong? I thought I put that spell-”

“I’ve dropped it. I can’t find it,” Alfred said,his movements becoming even more panicked if the bangs and squeakingwere any indication. “A-Art-”

“Take a breath, Al,” Arthur told him, throwing hiscovers back and forcing himself to stand up. “I’ll find it foryou.” He crossed the room quickly, slowing when he thought he wasclose to Alfred’s bed. Then he reached out and felt around, trying tofigure out exactly where he was.

“It’s too dark…” Alfred mumbled, his voiceshaking a little. “This is…”

“Al,” said Arthur, trying to stop his train ofthought. “It’s fine. Nothing’s happening. Everything’s fine. You’resafe.”

“That’s not-”

At the same instant as Arthur, still waving his handsaround, made contact with something, Alfred cut himself offand made a noise somewhere between a shriek and a whimper. Sighing,Arthur rolled his eyes. “Stop panicking. It’s only me.”

“You…?”

“Yes. Let me just find-” Before Arthur couldfinish, something gripped his wrist and he was suddenly pulledforward. He gave a cry as he flew forward until he was sprawledacross Alfred. “What are you doing?!” he exclaimed, his heartbeating wildly in his chest.

“Don’t leave me…”

Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Arthur rolled offAlfred so that he was squished between the older boy and the wall.The shock of being pulled off his feet had cleared his head enoughfor him to remember his magic; he raised his hand so his palm facedthe ceiling and murmured a spell. A bright light appeared above themand Arthur hissed as he squeezed his eyes shut. Beside him, Alfredyelped and moved his arms, probably blocking the light out with hishands. Hastily, Arthur flicked his wrist and the light seemed toshrink until it was at the level of Alfred’s lamp.

For a few moments, both of them lay there, breathingheavily and letting their eyes adjust. Finally, Arthur sat up andlooked around, spotting the bear at the end of the bed. “Aha,” hesaid. “I’ve found your teddy bear-”

Suddenly, arms wrapped around him and pulled him down.Alfred’s grip on him was tight enough to make Arthur think hewouldn’t let him go. “Thank you,” Alfred murmured into Arthur’shair.

“You’re welcome. Now, let me go.”

“Mm. Can I ask a dumb question?”

“Again?”

“Will you stay with me?”

“What, tonight?” Arthur asked, trying to pull awayso he could frown at Alfred. It only made Alfred pull him closer. Fora second, Arthur tensed. Then he relaxed, tucking his head down torest it on Alfred’s shoulder. “Are you ever going to tell me whatgets you so scared at night?”

“Nope,” Alfred answered.

They fell silent for a moment. A little while later,Arthur’s tired brain realised that Alfred wasn’t entirely still. Hewas trembling slightly. Evidently, he was still scared but trying notto disturb Arthur. Wordlessly, Arthur forcibly wriggled his way outof his grip so that he could kneel beside him. Alfred blinked up athim, jaw clenched and eyes shimmering in the dim light.

“Ar-” Alfred began.

“Hush,” Arthur interrupted him. Then, gently, hecupped Alfred’s face and began to murmur a similar spell to the onehe had cast on the bear. Alfred’s eyes widened slightly as he watchedhim work: Arthur could feel his own cheeks heat up as he stared downat Alfred. Finally, he finished and shuffled around to go back to hisoriginal position. As soon as Alfred’s arms slid around him andsqueezed him against Alfred’s side, he felt Alfred’s body relaxconsiderably. Alfred even sighed in relief, burying his face intoArthur’s hair.

“Man, you really are amazing, Artie.”

“Shut up,” Arthur grunted. He yawned, not botheringto try to stifle it. “Go to sleep.”

“Thanks,” Alfred said, obviously not payingattention. “Hey, maybe we should do this every time, instead of thebear. It’s kinda big, y'know? Takes up half the bed and I always kickit off and lose it.”

Arthur sighed. “When I said 'whatever helps you sleepat night’, I didn’t mean this. I mean, I really didn’t meanthis. We’re not sharing a bed, Al. Go to sleep.”

“Right. Yeah. Sorry…” There was a pause whereinArthur figured Alfred must have dropped off. He was bitterlydisappointed when Alfred began to speak again. “I’ll… I’ll tellyou about them. Maybe. But not right now. You don’t need to know.”

Arthur frowned. He tried to summon the energy to arguebut, instead, all he could do was huff and mumble, “Wait tillmorning to talk.”

“Okay. Night, Artie.”

“Mm.” Arthur shifted a little, getting comfortable.Soon, both he and Alfred were asleep, Arthur curled around Alfred andenveloped in his arms.

After this, whenever Alfred hugs/touches Arthur, he feels calmed. Arthur accidentally cast a stronger spell than for the bear. They end up sharing the bed quite a lot until they either end up in separate rooms or Arthur realises he has feelings and then he pushes Alfred away. Which just makes the nightmares increase.

Also, supernatural creatures exist in this universe but it’s taboo to talk to them. And by taboo, I mean, so frowned upon that nobody will admit to even being in contact with a ghost when they visit a haunted house. There’s never been anyone in recent times who’s been known to have talked to one. But I could be lying. :P