#he’s so beautiful I’m going to grind my bones into a fine powder

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

The (not naked) pin-up calendar

Summary: When you ask for a favor, Bucky (very) grudgingly agrees. What can you do to thank him? Return the favor, of course.

Characters: Bucky x Reader; a plethora of Avengers Warnings: Hardcore fluff. Soldiers wrestling like immature children. Steve being weirded out by nut sacks. Harry Potter references. A hint of naughty times at the end.

A/N: This is silly and fun and what can I say, writing sassy Bucky makes me happy. This is for @beckzorz 1k Writing Challenge (go follow this incredibly talented, beautiful lady), and my prompt was ‘Pin-up calendar’. Thanks a million for hosting Becca, I love you 3000! ♥️

Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!

*****

Overnight, the list gets tacked on the corkboard in the kitchen.

Bucky’s rummaging through the pantry, searching for his breakfast Doritos and a jar of salsa to dunk them in, when he glimpses his name from a distance. Snatching up a butter knife, he wanders over to the wall. When he sees the list header, he whirls around in a flurry of tangled hair and irrational grumpiness.

“What the hell is this?”

Bucky complaining first thing in the morning is par for the course, so both Sam and Steve, strolling in to search for breakfast, ignore him. Sam veers toward the sugary cereal cabinet, Steve heads for the oversize Ironman container housing granola, and Bucky stomps his foot like a toddler.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Steve says seconds later, through an overflowing mouthful of flaxseed and yogurt. “You already agreed. You’re not backing out.”

Bucky spins around and reads the flyer again.

---

“Avengers Calendar Shoot”

See below for your name and photo call timing.

Monday: Carol (10am), Wanda (2pm), Scott (6pm)

Tuesday: Rhodey (10am), Sam (2pm), Steve (6pm)

Wednesday: Tony (10am), Bruce (2pm), Natasha (6pm)

Thursday: Thor (10am), Clint (2pm), Bucky (6pm)

---

Stomping his foot again, Bucky stabs the flyer with the aforementioned butter knife.

“Someone better be yankin’ my dick right now,” he warns. “I definitely didn’t agree to bare my wrinkly nut sack for the whole fucking world to see.”

Sam dry heaves over his Lucky Charms.

Steve’s now filling his Black Widow coffee mug and rolling his eyes.

“What is it with you always trying to be naked? It’s not a naked thing, it’s a charity thing. Innocent children who don’t know what an asshole you are will see this, so you better be wearing clothes,” Steve gives his mug an annoying slurp. “Besides - you already agreed. No takebacks.”

“Steve,” Bucky crisply pivots, launching metaphorical murder darts from his eyes. “We’ve talked about this. Don’t tell me how to live my life.”

“Well it was your girl who convinced everyone to do it, so good luck telling her you’re a liar.” Instead of responding, Bucky holds up a Dorito in front of Steve and peers around the silhouette. Draws a few angles in his head. “What?” Steve asks brusquely.

“Nothing,” Bucky mutters. The chip cracks between his teeth with a puff of toxic orange. “Just makin’ an observation.”

“Just wear your scary leather bondage uniform with your scary mask and stand there all scary. You don’t even need to smile,” Sam says. Spooning cereal in with one hand, his other is attempting to worm its way into Bucky’s bag of chips. Cradling the Doritos under his arm, Bucky twists away, blocking the attack.

“Good way to lose a finger. Don’t touch my things.”

Sam swallows his cereal, ignores the lethal look in Bucky’s eyes, and tries again.

Steve joins in.

And so, when you roll into the kitchen a few minutes later, here’s what you find: three Avengers, three veteran soldiers, wrestling over a bag of Doritos. Bucky has Sam in a headlock, Sam is kicking Bucky’s shins and hitting him with a milky spoon, and for some reason, Steve is dancing around trying to tickle them both.

Clearing your throat, the trio freezes.

You smile.

“Gentlemen.”

Flailing arms and legs instantly break apart. Sam and Steve have the good grace to look chastened, both stammering embarrassed apologies. Bucky simply shoves a fistful of Doritos in his mouth and smiles triumphantly. Striding over to you, he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Babe, take my side here. You don’t want the whole world to see my nut sack, right?”

“Stop saying nut sack,” Steve hisses. “Nuts are gross.”

“Maybe your nuts are gross Steve,” Sam pipes up, rubbing his shirt with a wet rag, trying to clear away Bucky’s orange powder fingerprints, “but my nuts are awesome.” After a few harsh scrubs, he sees the futility and throws the rag in Bucky’s face. Stalking from the kitchen, he shouts something about laundry wheels and Oxyclean.

When you pluck the bag of Doritos from Bucky’s grubby hands, he releases them easily and grins at your exasperation. Sidling close, he rubs up against you like a needy kitten, so you hug him tight, dipping your fingers down to squeeze his butt.

“Please do it Bucky, I already told them you would. Wear anything you want, you don’t even have to smile,” you murmur in his ear, knowing precisely which buttons to push. “And besides, I bet I’m not the only one who wants to see those pretty blue eyes. Right?”

Bucky purses his lips. Wrinkles his nose. Grumbles under his breath.

And because you’re looking at him all wide-eyed and soft, he gives in.

Like he always does.

“Fine,” he huffs. “Fine. I’ll do it for you.”

“So much drama,” Steve mumbles through his granola. Bucky lunges for him, but Steve drops his bowl in the sink and skirts past, rushing for the door. Looking back, he throws Bucky a challenging smirk, before smacking into the doorframe. There’s a brief ricochet and then he’s scurrying down the hall, laughing as he goes.

“Idiot,” Bucky mutters.

Folding your fingers behind his neck, you turn his face back to you and kiss his stubbly cheek. “Thank you. Reason number one billion and two why I love you.”

At the brush of your lips, Bucky promptly grabs the back of your thighs and hoists you in the air. Spinning around, he shuffles over to the counter and drops you on top. Settling between your legs, hands flat on the counter boxing you in, his mouth finds the open space above your shirt collar and he proceeds to kiss every square inch.

“The things I do for you,” he breathes, sucking his favorite spot along your neck. It makes you shiver, that thing he does with his tongue. “You realize now I gotta go on a diet.”

“What? No, you don’t. You look perfect.”

Disappointingly, he stops that whole talented tongue thing and leans back. Grinding your heels into his butt, you kick him, urging him to stay put. Instead, he sighs in that tragic, pay attention to me way that only Bucky Barnes can do.

“Obviously I’m perfect, so are you by the way, but the camera adds five pounds. I have to preemptively lose it.” Crinkling up his now empty bag of Doritos, he throws it at the trash can and misses by a mile. He gives you a hangdog, pathetic sort of look. “This sucks.”

Bucky Barnes, ladies and gentlemen. The most dramatic human being on the planet.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you don’t need to diet. You could weigh a thousand pounds and it wouldn’t matter, you don’t - “

“Maybe not, like, a thousand pounds,” Bucky interrupts. “That’d make sex super hard. And not good hard. Just awkward hard. You know? Like when Hagrid’s mom and dad had sex. Which I still don’t understand how that’s supposed to work and I’ve done a shitload of research on it, been on all kinds of forums and talked to some experts - there’s a guy at SHIELD who specializes in interplanetary species relationships, I don’t know if you knew that - but anyway it just makes no sense because she would have killed that little guy if he tried to bang her, and I’m sorry, that’s the tea and I’ll fucking fight anyone who disagrees.”

Pausing for breath, he looks so earnest you almost hate to stop him.

“Buck, maybe we try one day where you don’t reference Harry Potter? I know you’re a fan, but - “

“I drew some diagrams,” he continues. “Boning diagrams. But like, I still can’t get it to work.”

Staring into space, he lets his marvelous tactical brain run every scenario of sexual acrobatics required to establish the feasibility of human-giant sex.

This could go on forever. Once Bucky gets knee-deep in fan forum theories, hours will lapse before he swims up for air. Many a morning has found him still in his boxers, laptop on his knees while he smashes the keyboard, arguing with virtual enemies about the physical features of Hogwarts house founders or the complex nuances of international Wizarding trade law.

The truth is - Bucky Barnes is a god damn nerd.

Clapping your hands, you drag him back to real life.

“Focus please. You’re good to do this then? Without the diet?”

“I really really hate it,” he replies, matter of fact, “but I really really love you, so if you want me to, I guess I’m in. But I’m still losing five pounds.”

“You’re my favorite, you know that?” Slipping your hands up under his shirt, you massage the tight muscles alone his spine and he hums happily. Flashing a lazy grin, he boops your nose.

“You know what? I think you should do it too. Be so great to have a sexy poster of you for those long nights when I’m gone and can’t sleep,” he waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “If you know what I mean.”

“I’m going to pretend I don’t know what you mean.”

“Whatever. Like you don’t have a folder full of dick pics with my name on it,” he laughs.

“I wish you’d stop sending me those,” you say sternly. “You know this is my work phone.”

“So? You always need fresh material for your diddle box. Keeps the romance alive,” he says. Reaching up behind you, he tugs open the snack cabinet and rummages for a new bag of Doritos. The airtight blurp of a new jar of salsa follows.

“I’m sure I’ll regret this, but - what exactly is a diddle box?”

Massive Winter Soldier eye roll.

“All the pictures and videos and sexy shit you use to masturbate. Clearly.”

“Why do I ask you questions,” you sigh.

“I’m starting my diet tomorrow,” he answers instead, before dunking a fresh Dorito in the salsa.

*****

The next two weeks are spent with Bucky mostly eating raw vegetables and baked chicken breast and loudly commenting on the sorrows of dieting to everyone he encounters.

“You’re being ridiculous Bucky. No one told you to lose weight.”

“No,” he says glumly, crunching a celery stick with a martyred expression. “I need to be hot. Beauty is pain.”

“You are a pain.”

He sighs dramatically. Stares wistfully into the distance. Snaps a carrot in half.

“The things I do for you.”

“Jesus.”

*****

AVENGERS CALENDAR SHOOT THIS WEEK!

Remember to be on time, or we will choose the worst picture of you and print that.

We’re assholes that way.

Thanks,

Management

*****

MONDAY

(SEPTEMBER: Danvers, Carol; Captain Marvel)

Carol throws her bomber jacket over her red, blue, and gold uniform, and adds a sleek pair of vintage Ray Bans. Climbing into the cockpit of her fighter jet, she turns herself all glowy and golden, the color bouncing merrily off the control panel. Tipping her face down to the camera, she flashes the Shaka sign and gives the photographer a huge smile.

(FEBRUARY: Maximoff, Wanda; Scarlett Witch)

Wanda goes all out on all things red. Clad in a long red dress and long coat, surrounded by hundreds of red flowers - tulips and roses and carnations - she curls her fingers and everything around her begins to glow with a warm red light. When she smiles at the camera, her head tilts shyly.

(OCTOBER: Lang, Scott; Antman)

Is Scott actually in the picture or did someone spill coffee? The photographer sees a white sheet and a black spec, and scratches his head in confusion. Antman is kinda weird.

*****

TUESDAY

(NOVEMBER: Rhodes, James; War Machine)

Rhodey shows up dressed head to toe in gunmetal colored armor. When he snaps the faceplate down, the photographer timidly asks if maybe he wants to show his face. Rhodey flips the faceplate back up, reminds the photographer how badass this armor is, and says nope. He’s all good, thanks.

(APRIL: Wilson, Sam; Falcon)

Sam has spent the last few nights practicing his Zoolander pout in the bathroom mirror. He decides to wear a tight black t-shirt and comfortable jeans, with his wings spread wide, Redwing hovering beside him. At the last minute, his sultry pout melts into an animated belly laugh and they decide to use that one instead.

(JULY: Rogers, Steven; Captain America)

Steve goes back to his roots. Wearing a too small shirt and holey old jeans, he gazes pensively at the easel in front of him, glossy blond hair combed in a perfect wave. Fingers dusty with charcoal, he points to the picture he’s drawing and insists they capture it in the photo as well. They later realize he was drawing a picture of his own ass. That month gets labeled “Steve Rogers and America’s Ass”.

*****

WEDNESDAY

(MAY: Stark, Tony; Ironman)

Tony wears the bottom half of his suit and his favorite Black Sabbath t-shirt. Posing in his lab, he floats a few feet off the ground, crossing his arms and giving that trademark smirk. Scattered around him are random bits of technology and a few arc reactors, with Dum-E and a steaming platter of cheeseburgers in the background.

(JUNE: Banner, Bruce; Incredible Hulk)

Bruce looks a bit rumpled. The publicity shy scientist in him detests these things, but he’s a good sport for a good cause. Surrounded by microscopes and beakers of dazzling green liquids, he allows the teeniest quirk of his lips. Hands tucked in his pockets, messy curls fall over his forehead, and Bruce just feels happy to be included.

(JANUARY: Romanoff, Natasha; Black Widow)

Natasha asks for her photo in black and white. Dressed in shadows and tulle, she is nothing more than a dark figure against a white backdrop. On her feet, are a pair of ballet slippers, their satin ribbons looped and laced around her ankles. When she arches slowly up on pointe, her arms curve gracefully over her head and there’s an ethereal stillness about the image. Natasha is amazing.

*****

THURSDAY

(DECEMBER: Odinson, Thor; Thor)

Thor wears an enthusiastic smile when he arrives - and not much else. Dressed in a cherry red speedo, black boots, and his swirling red cape, he stands with one fist on his hip and Mjolnir held lovingly in the other. When the photographer asks about his outfit, Thor proudly describes something called “fan art” he saw online of himself wearing this outfit, mentioning how many “re-blogs” it had. He thinks he might wear this outfit more often, if that’s what the Midgardians want.

(AUGUST: Barton, Clint; Hawkeye)

Clint has a cup of coffee in one hand, a pot of coffee in the other. He wears purple sweatpants and a grey tank top and he yawns every five seconds. When asked what pose he’d like to use, he pretends his hearing-aids are broken. He lays down for a nap and the photographer goes with that.

(MARCH: Barnes, James “Bucky”; Winter Soldier)

Bucky leaves his leather bondage gear, his excessive collection of knives and guns, and his murder scowl at home. Instead, he arrives in black jeans and boots, a dark blue t-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, his tousled hair brushing the collar of his jean jacket. Perched casually on the seat of his restored Harley, he looks carefree and sweet, offering that signature smile that always sets hearts aflutter.

*****

When the final photo is taken, Bucky ambles over to where you stand with the photographer, reviewing proofs. Snuggling up beside you, he moves in for a kiss and stops in surprise.

“What’s with the lipstick?” he asks, bemused. “That’s new.”

You seem momentarily flustered by the question, stuttering something about losing your chapstick and trying new things. Bucky shrugs and dives in anyway. It makes no difference to him. Painted red or completely bare, your lips are always his favorite flavor.

*****

“They’re here!”

The box of calendars lands with a thump on the kitchen counter.

“Excellent. Are we hot?” Steve asks, his mouth full of cheesy pizza.

“I’m always hot,” Sam answers, ripping into the box. “Yesterday I saw a Buzzfeed post about how hot I am, and it said 11/10 recommend.” Yanking out the pile of calendars, he throws one to Steve. “That means more than 100% would recommend. I’m beloved.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a national treasure,” Steve argues. Reaching for a calendar, he flicks impatiently until he finds himself.

Leaving the team to laugh and bicker and poke fun of each other, you grab your bag (and another small package), heading off to search for your favorite assassin slash model.

His door is cracked when you reach it, low music in the background. Knocking lightly, you push it open.

“Hey Buck. Are you busy?”

Surrounded a chaos of metal, Bucky sits cross-legged on his bedroom floor. A tin of gun oil lays open beside him, a shredded old t-shirt in hand, while he cleans and reassembles his guns. This particular task has taken him literally all day, because Bucky Barnes has yet to meet a gun he doesn’t need.

(Seriously. He needs them. All of them. Stop questioning him, Steve.)

At your voice, an adorable smile scrunches up his face. Bouncing to his feet, he leaps gracefully from the middle of the mess and scoops you up, twirling in a circle and stealing your breath with a warm kiss.

“Hey sweetheart, what’re you doin’ here?”

“Something arrived. Thought you might like to see.”

Handing over the calendar, Bucky wipes his hands on his jeans. A nervous energy makes his fingers fumble when he riffles through the pages.

He stops abruptly at March.

“Huh,” he says, observing his portrait from every angle. Turns it sideways, upside down, pinches his lip. Squints a little. Finally, he nods. “Yeah. Okay, yeah. I look pretty great. I think? Right? I don’t know, what do you think?”

It’s funny.

Sometimes, you hold your breath when you watch at him. There are these little things. The bright excitement in his eyes maybe, or the way he scratches his jaw when he gets nervous, or the absentminded way he tucks his hair behind his ear.

It does things to your heart.

“Yeah,” you say, mesmerized by those little things, “you really do.”

Bucky looks up. Sees your face and breaks into a wide grin. He loves when you look at him like this, like he’s the only thing that matters. Like he’s your whole world. Like you love him.

It does things to his heart.

Snapping the calendar shut, he flings it on his bed. Blue eyes rake you up and down and he pokes his lip out in an exaggerated pout.

“Still think you should’ve done it too,” he says. “Bet you would’a looked so hot.”

At his comment, you reach into your bag and pull something free. Silently, you hand over a second square, this one wrapped in black paper, a silver bow taped along the edge.

“What’s this?” he asks curiously.

Shrugging, your expression stays neutral.

“Open it and see.”

Like a kid on Christmas morning, he rips the paper away.

He freezes.

Blinking rapidly, he looks up. Silver fingers delicately trace the shiny picture and he swallows hard.

“Honey, is this - did you do this for me?” he asks softly. Flipping gently through each page of this special, one-of-a-kind calendar, he shakes his head in slow disbelief.

Because there you are.

Posing in March, holding his favorite confetti cupcakes adorned with birthday candles in front of your naked breasts.

Posing in July, dressed in a vintage red, white, and blue USO uniform, white boots on your feet and crackling sparklers in your hands.

Posing again in October, wearing a slutty pumpkin dress with cut-outs revealing slivers of your sweet, sexy assets.

Each picture is incredible. Full of vivid colors and your sunny smile. No air-brushing, no fake poses, just you. Indescribable and undeniably beautiful, bursting with love.

All for him.

Bucky rubs his chest absently, feeling his heart thumping with every turn of the page. And then he reaches the last month, and there’s a strangled squeak. He stares intently at the page. Looks up at you. Back to the page. Back up at you. Closes his eyes briefly.

This is it, this is his favorite, his absolute fucking favorite thing of all time, the image instantly wiping all other thoughts from his proverbial spank bank.

There.

You.

Are.

Damn.

Tacked above you is a sprig of mistletoe, a concession to the holiday theme. But it’s the outfit that does it. Black combat boots, lacy red lingerie, deep red lipstick, and an empty thigh holster. You’re pointing one of his favorite guns at the camera and giving a sly wink.

Mind-blowingly, devastatingly, breathtakingly gorgeous.

Bucky awkwardly adjusts the rising situation in his pants, raising lust-blown eyes to yours. Licking your lips, you give him a hesitant smile.

“Do you - um, do you like them?”

It makes you panic when he says nothing. He simply stares. But then he sets the calendar carefully, reverently, aside. Slipping a hand behind your neck, he hustles you backward until you bump the door, slamming it shut. His warm mouth slants over yours, that talented tongue returning to sweep over your lips. The kiss is hot and frantic, tinged with an edge of wild excitement. When he finally breaks away, his voice is low, dark gravel in your ear.

“Listen. I’m gonna need you to get all those outfits and put on every,” he kisses your throat, “single,” he trails his lips up to your jawline, “one,” and now he’s panting in your ear, “and then I wanna take pictures of me taking everything off, before I fuck you so damn good. How’s that sound?”

Sliding a hand between his legs, your answer makes him tremble.

“Sounds like a deal.”

*****

[maskedjoker]

Lost Fragment of Snow(English)

Story 2: Lost Fragment of Snow Red : A child with a grotesque red arm . Mana Walker: A newcomer clown employed by the circus ***   

Snow falls quietly onto the Earth. As if it is healing the land which has been abused. Under the layer of gray clouds which stretch on endlessly, there stands a young boy. He is young, but alone. The boy has no name. He is only referred to as Red . Simply because of his strange, wrinkled left arm  – ***

Thunder – like claps and cheers break the silence.

“Thank you for everyone’s patronage today.”

It is the voice of the pleased Ringmaster.

It looks like today’s performance is successful as well.

Thought Red distractedly as he polishes the tools in the backstage of the circus. From the slit in the hanging screens, the stage surrounded by lights could be seen.

It was beautiful and full of life—contrasting with the darkness and eeriness of the backstage.

With only a small light bulb swinging above his head, Red sits on the freezing floor and concentrates on polishing the rings.  

The red and white striped rings are so big that he can only hold one.

Using both his legs to clamp the ring, and supporting it with his mostly unmovable left arm , he wipes the ring with his more nimble right hand.

In the beginning, he was unable to do these jobs well, and would always curse his left arm , but he is used to it now.

Grind the knives, then wash the clothes. The person who does odd jobs needs to do many things.

“Urgh…”

Red ’s body is shaking because of the cold.

The tent, made up of only one piece of cloth, is very cold. In order for his hand to gain some warmth, Red exhales some air on his hand. Just then, even louder cheers and claps could be heard from the stage, it sounds like they are seeing of the performers who have completed their act.

It looks like they are returning soon.

After a while, the backstage was also filled with a festive atmosphere.

The costumes made by the skilled workman are very bright.  

A clown wearing a brightly coloured clown suit. An accordion player with a pleated blouse.

The magician’s sleeve was decorated with a star shaped golden button, and shone with the light.

The hair accessory decorated with flowers and jewels belonged to the female trapeze artist.

The one wearing black and white stripes was the animal trainer— The performers, who have yet to snap out from the excitement felt during the performance, walked past Red with a proud air around them.

Red glanced downwards at his own clothing.

It was extremely sloppy around the collar, and the shirt was very dirty as well. A very short vest was worn as the outer layer. In contrast, his shorts were very big, and can even be pulled to his shoulder level.

Looking at the tragic state of his clothes, it felt really out of place. The performers put their respective props in succession in front of Red, who had not moved at all.  

Of course, no one will speak to him.

“The guests’ interests today were really high.”

“Yeah, I felt really great when I was balancing on the ball.”

“Me too, at that time, I really wanted to flip backwards twice.”

All of the happy conversations passed over the head of Red.

No one looked at Red in the eye.

It has always been that way.

Yes, it has always been that way.

He clenched his right hand tightly, and this told him that, it was as if his heart had been pierced by a knife, an uncontrollable grief bubbling up.

Thinking that way, Red put more force behind the hand polishing the ring.

“You’re still the same, so frustrated and hot tempered!” The person who said it was the clown Cosmos, his mouth twisted in a vulgar smile.

A white clown outfit. And on the left side of his face, a red star which is unique to the clown.

It was totally impossible to see his expression underneath the thick layer of makeup and powder, but the only fact known is the malicious twinkle in his eye.  

Red looks up at Cosmos, without stopping the polishing of the prop.

He cannot let this sort of guy see his weakness.

Red immediately his hand from shaking.

Yes, this happens often.

“Every time I see your face, I lose my motivation.”

Cosmos roughly pushes Red in the chest.

Red, who is still young—not even ten years old, was flung back easily.

“And, your disgusting arm! Not only is it dirty, it can’t even move, can it? How can such a useless fellow like you manage to stay here!”

Red looks at his left arm.

On it were a few deep wrinkles, just like an arm which had been dyed by a thick coating of blood. It took him a lot of effort just to make his hand move a tiny bit. Even though he wanted it to move just like his right arm, he can’t do anything.  

But—this sort of thing, has nothing to do with Cosmos.

Even he knows that this happens often, but as usual, he is unable to control his hatred for Cosmos.  

Red’s eyes naturally fill up with power.

The smile suddenly disappeared from the edge of Cosmos’ mouth.

“What’s up with you, that sort of arrogant look!”  

Cosmos’ fist hit Red’s chest, he groans softly. The heavy hit made him sick.

Red curled up as he knelt on the floor.

Cosmos had always been that way. Making him suffer in places where it is hard to see from the outside.  

“What are you saying, hahh! You’re just a piece of trash!” This time, Cosmos used his leg to kick Red in the stomach.

Red clenched his teeth.

How can he shout?

How can he cry?

This is his only way of rebelling.

He understands the reason behind Cosmos’ frustration.

The new clown has stolen away his popularity.

He planned for himself to always be the best—to this sort of Cosmos, the fact that other people could surpass him, is the hardest fact to swallow.

He wants to break Red into pieces to vent his anger. Facing this sort of Cosmos, from the bottom of his heart, Red feels only contempt towards him.

I will absolutely not give in to this sort of person.

But Cosmos would not let him off easily.

As if he wanted Red to see his shining sneakers, Cosmos cruelly kicks Red’s stomach.

He kicked again and again, causing Red to slowly lose his consciousness. Even then, Cosmos did not forgive and finally aimed a kick at Red’s face. Red’s small body was flung away by the force of the kick, and crashed into the pile of props. “What is that noise!” The Ringmaster heard the loud crash and rushed out. He wears a top hat on his head and has a brush mustache under his nose.

Even though he is short, his pants are tight around his large belly. The buttons on the vertically striped shirt looked like it was going out pop out any moment.

The Ringmaster turned towards Cosmos, his tummy shaking.

“Cosmos, did something happen?”

The Ringmaster asked Cosmos first, as he thought it was due to the Clown’s vigorous activity.

“This bastard was lazing around. For the future of the circus, I need to teach him a lesson!”

Cosmos smiled at the Ringmaster as if he was trying to flatter him. --That’s not it!

Even though he wanted to say that, no sound came out in the end.

No, even if Red denied it, the Ringmaster wouldn’t listen anyway. In front of the Ringmaster who is only interested in money, how he sees these two people is very clear.

The Ringmaster looks at Red with cold eyes.

“…seriously, not only can you not make money, you still want to slack off. Forget about dinner tonight.”  

The Ringmaster said impatiently. Then he hauls Red up.

“Who was it that took you in, with no memories and ugly looks, who was it that gave you a place to live and a job? Hmm?”  

The Ringmaster leans his pudgy face close.

If he did not answer, then he won’t have a place to belong to anymore.

“…It’s you, the Ringmaster.”

“Who was it that refused to go on stage to perform and insisted on doing odd jobs? Ah?”

“…Me.”

Red replied, the Ringmaster nods in satisfaction.  

“That’s right, listen up, I will not allow you to slack off. For Cosmos to think of the circus is really rare.”

“No, it’s what I’m supposed to do.”

Cosmos smiled at the Ringmaster with a smile meant to flatter.

“Really, I spent so much money buying you…you should at least earn my capital back! Definitely no slacking!”

The Ringmaster let go as he said so.

Cosmos seemed to be satisfied at last and leaves with the Ringmaster, smiling and humming to himself.

The other members look away from Red, who had collapsed on the ground, like they did not want to be involved, and left quickly. In the end, no one was left. In the backstage, which had regained its silence, Red, who is alone, finally tries to stand up.

The chilliness of the floor sends a shock through his body. “Urgh…”   After an unknown amount of time, the nauseous abdominal pain finally subsided a bit.

Red gets up shakily.

No one will look at me. But, it’s fine like this. I don’t want to care about you people either.  

He puts the ring which he had polished into the box, and to let out his feelings of frustration, Red walks out of the tent.

“Ah…..”

It’s a silver world outside.

White snow drifts down slowly.

No wonder it’s so cold.

The circus which was originally filled with people, noisy and extravagant, is currently standing in the square, just like a quietly blooming flower.

Red walks a few steps, unconvinced.  

Shashahsha, his foot sinks into the snow.

The air he blows out is white, bone piercing cold seeps in through his thin shirt.

Even then, Red does not stop walking.

There is no place to go. But, he just wants to leave this place. Looking at the trees which have been covered by snow, just like a white sculpture.   This comforted his soul a bit.

Seeing the snow that dyes everything white, it is as if his soul has turned pristine white.

It feels as if all his troubled have been forgotten.

Far away from the circus tent, Red kneels on the ground.

Quietly scooping up some of the snow, and placing some on his cheeks, which are as hot as fire.

Because of Cosmos’ hits, the corner of his mouth has cracked. Ah, even though it is painful, the coldness of the snow made him feel comfortable.

--What, in the world am I doing. Red does not have any memories of the past. When he became aware, he realised that he had been sold to the circus. Because he refused to perform on stage, so he decided to do odd jobs to earn a living.

The Ringmaster saw him as a piece of trash who cannot earn money and drifted away from him, he also became an outlet for Cosmos when he was angry, he was even forced by other members to do various things.

When can I—be freed from all these things.

Behind these strong feelings, are feelings of frustration and unease—how is he going to survive with a left arm like this.

Red touches his already protesting stomach, it still feels painful.

Now—he can’t leave. He still needs to continue this humiliating and lonely life. Because he is young, and has no one to depend on.

Red clenches his teeth.  

“Eh? You’re from the circus?”

Hearing this innocent voice, Red can’t help but look up.

It was a kind looking boy wearing a large coat, the boy watches with interest.

His cheeks look rather plump.

He looks around my age.

Red looks at the young boy with a puzzled expression.

“It’s really great, the circus!”

“…”

“What tricks do you perform?”

Hearing this, Red feels a tightness in his heart.

“Nothing much…” --This guy who doesn’t know any tricks and does nothing!

The Ringmaster’s words resonate in his ear.

“Wow…the circus, it’s great. You can go to a lot of cities? And can see all sorts of people…it’s awesome!” The young boy continues talking without any prompting.

No matter which city I go to, and who I meet, it’s all the same to me.

Red rolls up his sleeve.

“…!!”

He knows that the boy’s expression has frozen.

A scary, red left arm covered in wrinkles.

“Erhm, that is, has…has something been done to your arm?”

“…”

The young boy looks at the silent Red with fear and turns around in the end, running away.

It has always been like this. Always.

He used to it.

Even though that is what he tells himself, he still feels a sharp pain in his small chest.

The quiet night seems to be able to absorb all sound.

The customers of the circus have gone back home, there is no one left. The circus members are going to sleep very soon as well.  

“Ah…!”

Red gave a cry and hid behind a tree.

Someone walked out of the circus tent, it was Cosmos.

I thought he already went to rest!

Cosmos looks drunk.

He was holding a beer bottle in one hand and walking unsteadily.  

“Ah~hh, I really can’t continue anymore!”

He does not greet anyone and walks to the member’s tent while talking to himself.

He’s not coming towards here. Red’s heart is pounding as he watches Cosmos quietly.

“I’m…not supposed to stay here…because I have a noble bloodline…” Cosmos, who was completely drunk, did not notice Red, who was hiding in the shadows of the trees, he simply continues walking unsteadily.

Red let out a sigh of relief and leaves the shadows of the trees.

Just like what the other members said. Cosmos will drink himself drunk every night, and complain non-stop.

--I’m not a person who should stay here Cosmos’ words echo.

This is not the place I belong to.

But, if you want to know where this place is, you are unable to find the answer.   All alone.

What am I doing in this sort of place? How long will I stay in a place like this?

His stomach growls.

W soup and bread would be nice.

Red feels that his situation is too tragic, and bites his lip.

He brushes the snow of himself and walks into the tent.

“!”

The prop box’s contents, which had been arranged properly, are scattered all over, like a thief has been through it.  

Red stares dumbfounded at the scattered props.

Before leaving the tent, he had already kept everything properly.

Members who have finished their work would not take the trouble to come back, they should be asleep now.

He could only think of one suspect.

--Cosmos.

The name appeared together with his anger.

It must be that drunkard.

In order to vent his dissatisfaction, he can do this sort of thing. Even then, if he leaves it like this, he would still get scolded by the Ringmaster the next morning.

--time to check the props.

If it was to vent anger, it is very possible for props to be thrown away.

The Ringmaster only thinks about money. He always thought that giving salary to the members and buying props were unnecessary.  

Even if one small ball was lost, he’ll definitely lose his temper. Then throw all the blame onto Red, who does the odd jobs.

Red picks up the things scattered on the ground.

The five big balls are all there. The cigar box used for magic tricks, red, blue, yellow, two each—

Just at this moment.

A kacha sound is emitted from a wooden box.

It is box in the corner of the room, big enough to hold an adult.

--who is it, don’t tell me Cosmos is hiding inside?!

An uncontrollable feeling of violence surges up inside him.

No wait, didn’t I see him return just now?

Then, what is this-

Red watches the box warily—

A large form slowly walks out from the shadows.

“D, dog--?”

Discovering something which he didn’t consider, caused Red  to be very shocked.

A huge dog had come out from the box.

Tea coloured fur mixed in with white fur which looked really soft.

On its neck was not a collar but a clown ring.

Which means, this dog belongs to the circus.

Maybe because it’s late at night, not only does it look sleepy, even its movements are dull.

So, it didn’t notice. The dog picked up a ball with a star pattern on the ground, and ran past Red , who was still in shock.  

“Ah, wait!”

If one ball is missing, it would mean a lot of trouble.  

Whose dog is it! Help me stop it!

Red runs after the dog in panic, out of the tent.

As Red ran through the snow, he felt as if he had seen that dog before.

Recently, a lot of new performers were hired. It should be the partner of one of the newcomers.

It should be a clown.

The circus is a gathering of wanderers.

It’s a place where people of different backgrounds and different goals gather.

And because the Ringmaster is prone to mood swings, the turnover rate of the circus is high.

Because of this, Red cannot remember everyone’s faces.  

They are people who are going to leave anyway—

That dog walked towards the darkness.

He is unable to catch up with the dog which can run through the snow easily, so the distance between and the dog grew bigger and bigger.

“Ah!”

Red’s foot sinks into the snow, causing him to fall over.

The cold sensation of the snow causes him to get up hurriedly.

If the prop is lost, I’ll be beaten up again, and I will not get anything to eat again.

His cheeks throb.

“I’m telling you to wait!” Red shouts.

The dog continues running single-mindedly, as if it did not hear the shouts.   In the darkness of the outdoors, he searches for the dog’s footprints, but has stopped running.

He is at his limit. “…”

Not only has he been hit, and kicked, his stomach is extremely empty well, there is also the freezing air and the snow which traps his feet.

He is unable to think about anything else.

Red collapses on to the snow, like he had turned limp.

And just like that, he flips over.

Red lies spread-eagled in the snow.

“Hah, hah!”

His rapid breathing could not slow down.

His heart is pounding furiously.

Snow falls onto Red .

His body is covered in white.

He’s cold, and tired, and heart-broken, and suffering—

--he can’t think of anything anymore.

PA!

“!!”

His face seems to be hit by something like a ball.

Red opens his eyes, and discovered that the dog that he should have lost was in front of him.

The dog seems to want to say something. It opens his mouth and pants.

“Wha, what?”

At this moment, the dog quickly stands up on its hind legs. ***

Then shakes its head vigorously.

“Ah---“

The clown tag shakes together with the dog’s movement.  

In the midst of the heavy snow, the clown tag shines under the dim street lights.

As it turns, it is as mystifying as the dances from another country.

Red stares dumbfounded at the sight.

Just then, the dog meets Red’s eyes.

That expression is very playful—

This mutt—

He finally understands why the dog ran out.

That right, he wants to play.

No, it should be he wants to tease me.

Even if he knew that—

Red picks up the ball dropped on the ground, and threw it towards the dog.

Even though it was meant as a small joke, the dog jumped lightly and catches the ball perfectly in mid-air with its mouth.

The dog puts down the ball in its mouth.

“Take this!”

Red picks up the ball. This time, he throws it further and harder.

In the air where snowflakes are drifting, the star shaped ball leaves its perfect trajectory.  

The dog ran across the ground like a typhoon and jumps towards the grey sky.

Just like it was dancing in the air, the dog catches the ball easily—Red is fascinated with such a scene.

He is very agitated.

The hatred and anger in the depths of his heart had melted—that was the feeling he had.

Red held onto that feeling, and threw the ball again and again.

The dog gracefully leapt through the air to grab the ball, as if it did not want to lose.

This elation was a feeling he did not experience before.

Red couldn’t help but shout and leap in joy.

I really want to stay on a stage like this. When he came to his senses, the pain and hunger pangs have decreased greatly.   ***

The person doing odd jobs needs to wake up very early.

“Okay, Red. This is the last one.”

“…”  

Red grumpily puts the bowl of soup and bread onto the trolley.

He just needs to send these to the Magician’s tent.

As long as he finishes this, then he can finally eat.

“Breakfast!”

“How slow!”

One of the performers glanced at Red expressionlessly.

“…Sorry.”

Breakfast is sent late because the performers are not popular.

Eating order is determined by popularity.

It looks like this performer’s patience is going to run out soon.  

This fact would probably irritate him even more.

Red leaves the tent he just entered. He doesn’t want to be taken apart.

Even then, Cosmos still shouted at him this morning.

--Why am I not the first one? You bastard, you spoke about the previous incident, did you?

Red hurriedly ran away from the angry looking Cosmos.

If he got beaten up again, he wouldn’t be able to take it.

Red breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, he can eat his own meal in the corner of the kitchen.

“Hurry up and finish eating!”

The chef said these unkind words, like he did not want to see Red at all.

Because of Red’s ugly arm, a lot of people hate him. He’s used to such cold looks already. Red holds the bowl of soup.

His tightened stomach felt a bit warmer because of the soup.

Red quickly left the tent after finishing and distributing the food.

The person doing odd jobs has a lot of work.

I need to finish them quickly.

Red picks up the performer’s clothes which have been drying at the corner of the tent.

Using his immobile left hand to support the clothes, and using his right hand to tightly hug the bundle.  

“Okay…”

All he has to do with bring these to the backstage and stack them piece by piece in an orderly manner.

Because he’s already used to it, he can quickly finish the job with only his right hand.

Sometimes, performers will walk past him.

But no one will talk to him.

Red will not talk to anyone as well.

Every day, in the backstage, he is used like a tool.

These sort of lonely jobs are also very common.

Common—

At that moment, someone nudges him from behind.

“!!!”

He turns around in shock, and saw the dog, with ragged breathing, behind him.

“…Huh, it’s you again!”

Red gave a cold look at the mutt staring at him with a wet nose.

Maybe it was satisfied with the reply, the dog sat down next to Red.

After that snowy night, the dog will always pick the times when Red is alone to be next to him.

Red ignored the dog, and turned his back on it to fold the clothes.

The dog stayed next to him quietly.

He can feel the dog breathing behind him, and sometimes, it was very clear that it had yawned. Who’s going to turn back?  

Red continued to sit with his back to the dog.

And simply continued with his work.

Quietly, he wanted to suppress his feelings.

Actually—really, he wants to pat it.

He wants to play with the dog.

He wants to be really close to it.

The elation he felt that snowy night, replayed itself in his mind over and over again.

It was the first time since he came to the circus.

That he can feel happy from the bottom of his heart. But—

“Strange? What happened to that acrobat? (The one who balances on the ball)

“Ohh, that one? He resigned yesterday.”

“Is it? He should have said something—whatever, it doesn’t matter much anyway.”

Hearing the conversation of the performers walking past him, Red clenches his teeth.

It is difficult to tell when the performers will leave one after another.  

The dog’s owner will leave one day, and go to another place.

That means that he would not be able to see the dog again.

Red could not tolerate it anymore, and stole a backward glance at the dog.

The dog’s good senses picked that up and shook its head.

This pitiful action, made Red feel very warm inside.

Something warm gushes out from the depths of his soul.

Red stops the hand folding the clothes, then clenches his fist, looking away from the dog.

I can’t get close to him.

Definitely not. The presence of the dog behind him pains him, Red thought of it that way.

This dog will leave me soon, together with its owner.

If I accept it, it will be especially painful when we say goodbye.

It would definitely be as painful as stabbing a knife through his chest, an unimaginable pain.

It may also be as painful as swallowing a rock.

No matter what, it will only increase the feelings of loneliness.

Once he thinks about this, it feels like he fell into a deep chasm.

So I will turn my back to it.

Red concentrates on his job once more.

Red does not talk to it, does not pat it, and even more, did not pay attention to it at all—

Even then—

The dog keeps loitering behind him. ***

“Ka!” Red’s face comes into contact with hard object. It’s a ball used in transformation magic.

“Ow…”  

He bears the pain and lifts up his head, only to come into eye contact with Cosmos, who is filled with nastiness.

“Drat, it’s because the ball slipped from my hand! Having been touched by such a dirty hand, the ball is really dirty! If the stunt fails because of this, then it is definitely your fault.”

“…”

He meticulously polishes the props every day. But, not just Cosmos, many others like to blame Red.

If things cannot be performed properly by the person, the props are blamed.

They’re so shameless.

It’s too much.

Red stares disgustedly at Cosmos, whose back is facing him. He had taken off his wig and thrown it on the floor.

Even though Cosmos often finds faults with Red, Cosmos is in a very bad mood these few days.

Because a clown more popular than Cosmos has appeared.

That would be the dog’s owner.  All of the clown’s techniques are well executed; his amusement tactics are unique; and the special canine partner, both of them are very popular.

His popularity continues to increase. Now, there is a rumor that many returning customers specially come to watch his show.

“It looks like Cosmos may not be able to snatch his No. 1 spot back.”

He remembered that someone has whispered this sentence before—

“Oi!”

The low, angry voice, made Red jump.

It came from Cosmos, who had stuck his head in through the Circus’ curtains.

And I thought he had gone outside already.

His heart beats furiously.

He’s going be get badly beaten up again.

“I have something to talk about with a useless fellow like you.  Hurry up and come!”  

Red stands up slowly.

He wanted to reject Cosmos, but if Red did not listen, he will be on the receiving end of more violent beatings.  

With no abilities, a left arm which cannot move.

No one will protect a troublesome person like Red.

Red can only surrender to the flow of events.

Cosmos grabbed Red’s arm and dragged him to the small pocket of trees outside.  

After removing the wig, Cosmos’ golden hair drapes around his face, giving off an even more disgusting feeling.  

“Oi, you, seem really close to that dog, right!”

“D,dog…?”

For a short moment, Red did not know what Cosmos was talking about. But after a while, he realised that Cosmos was referring to the dog which kept following him.

“I’m referring to that smelly dog with a collar around its neck. Listen, you must not tell anyone!”

Cosmos lowers his volume and whispers next to Red’s ear.

Then, he shoves a small bag to Red.

Even though he was very reluctant, but Red accepts it anyway.

“What, is this….”

Touching it lightly, he realises that it’s hard. With a very bad feeling, Red looks into the bad and gasps in shock.  

There was a lot of crushed glass in the bag.

Reflected in Cosmos’ light blue eyes was the expression of cruelty.

“Mix these things into the dog’s food.”

For a while, Red does not understand the implications behind the statement.

“Eh, ehh? If I did that—“

Red got slapped, hard.

Cosmos started to shout at Red, who was stunned by the blow.

“No nonsense from you! It’ll be fine as long as you do as I say. Unless brat!”

His face, which was hit, hurt a lot.

Then, Cosmos’ statements started circulating in his head.

The dog, whose tag kept spinning, in the heavy snow.

The dog, which will use its nose to nudge his back when he’s stacking the clothes.

The dog, which will quietly follow him when he’s moving props.

“…I won’t!”

He says it easily.

“Hah?”

“I won’t do this sort of thing!”

Red throws the bag back to Cosmos.

The bag full of glass, lands at Cosmos’ feet with a crack.

Cosmos runs a hand through his hair, and breathes in impatiently.

Then he takes a big step forward.

His light blue eyes giving off a fierce look, Cosmos brutally gives a kick in Red’s direction.

After that, was a flurry of kicks.

Red collapses with a groan.

Chest, stomach, leg—

His body is in so much pain that it feels like it’s falling apart, but the blows keep coming.

But Red continues clenching his teeth.

He will never say “Yes”—even if he was killed.

He swore to himself. His vision starts to blur.

Ah, am I going to die—

Just as he loses consciousness, he hears a dog barking.   ***

“Urgh…”

Red gets up slowly. Suddenly, pain courses through his body.

Slowly, he becomes more alert.

“Ah…”

Red remembers.  

Cosmos took him outdoors, told him to feed glass to the dog, then because Red refused, he got violently beaten up—but it feels like he had heard a dog barking…

What he heard before he lost consciousness should not be that dog’s barking.

Red felt a chill go down his spine.

He had—a bad feeling.

What if, it came to save him.

If that was the case.

Cosmos wants to kill that dog. It’s possible that something had been done already.

The sun had already set, and the surroundings are getting dark.

Red stands up slowly and shakily made his way back to the Circus.

After entering the tent, he crossed the backstage to glance at the stage.

“Ah--”

He felt extremely relieved.

The dog’s performing on the stage with its owner.

Leaping to catch the ball, the tag turning round and round—

Red breathed a sigh of relief seeing its energetic self.

And I thought Cosmos had done something to it, it looks fine.

The bark that he heard before he lost consciousness must be an illusion.

Maybe it was because he felt relieved, Red, who displayed no interest in the performances before, stood quietly by the curtains watching the stage.

The dog’s owner took a cup out from the box and swung the cup around in an amusing manner.

Then threw it towards the dog. But, the dog turned in the other direction with a ‘humph’, as if it was ignoring him.

The dog’s owner shrugged his shoulders, and—stuck both his hands on his face.

This hilarious look caused some outburst amongst the audience.

The dog’s owner then took the ball with the star shaped pattern.

“Ah…”

Red exclaimed to himself as the memories of that snowy night resurfaced.

The dog caught the ball which the owner threw very gracefully.

Loud claps ensued as the audience saw how experienced the dog was when it caught the ball.

The dog’s owner was indeed more popular than Cosmos, his tricks were varied and exquisite.

Sometimes hilarious, other times elegant and showy.  

The audiences’ eyes were always filled with light; they laughed till they fell over, and they wouldn’t stop clapping.

He was able to transform the rowdy audience into one entity.

Everyone was absorbed with his performance.

Being able to perform with such an owner must be a very happy thing.

The dog performed, full of life.

It was so bright.

The clown, and the dog—

Red couldn’t help but squint.

It was too bright.

The customers and the dog, they loved the clown on the stage.

It was an incomprehensible feeling.  

Love, and being loved—this had nothing to do with him.

He would not love anyone, and no one would love him.

Even though it was right in front to him, it needed to be treated like something that happens in a land far away.

“Urgh…”

Something warm is rising up in his chest.

Red tries to keep it down. Possessing an ugly arm, abandoned by his parents, isolated by others in the circus, and having to worry about violence every day.

One day, there was a dog.

There was a dog.

At my side where no one would approach, there was a dog.

Until the day, I always thought it was okay to be alone.

But it’s not like that—

I was only forcing myself. If I did not do that, I would not be able to live on. The situation happening in front of me, part of a bright world—is that “love”?

If it is like that—then I want to obtain “love”

I envy those with “love”. I am too lonely, too miserable.

Even though it’s just right in front of me, I can’t touch it.

I am unable to obtain it.

When I realized it.

My face was covered in tears…

After the performance, the clown and dog returned to the backstage.

“Bark!”

The dog discovers Red, and bounds towards him happily.

Thump thump, his heart is pounding.

What, what should I do? What should I—

Many emotions are swirling in his heart.

The image of the brightness of the dog and the clown on stage, surfaced in Red’s mind.

“Shoo, go away!”

Red kicks hard, and sends the dog flying.

Bark! The dog whimpers and falls on the floor. “Ah--”

Red is stunned.

I, I didn’t want—to do this sort of thing…

He quickly runs away from the place.

He just kept running and running, unable to control his sad emotions.

So envious.

So jealous—

He did not know what to do anymore.

Red, who was confused, did not realised that he had just brushed past Cosmos.

He also did not realise that Cosmos was currently rubbing his leg, which had been bitten by a dog, with a vengeful look. ***

Ever since that day, the dog never returned to Red’s side.

It was expected, because he suddenly sent it flying.

But he did not feel any pain.

In fact, he thought it was better that way.

Because he did not want to see them.

Just hurry up and go to another place, stay out of my sight.

This circus is just a temporary stop.

The performers will appear before disappearing one after another.

Because it’s all temporary, so there cannot be any expectations. It will only cause pain.

Therefore, do not get attached to others, and do not let others get attached to me.

But—something aches in heart.

“Red, I’m going out to buy something, come with me as well!”

“Yes!” Red was called out by the chef, into the streets.

The streets are filled with Christmas decorations, it was very lively outside.

In the more prosperous stores lining the road, there were many customers.

There were also many roadside stalls, trying to promote their wares.  

Everyone is looking at presents happily.

Children circle innocently around their parents.

All of this feels a world away.

The chef would not talk to him as well.

Red walks on the prosperous streets silently.

In this place, he could feel the difference between him and the happy people.

I am—very lonely.

But, it isn’t that bad.

It’s fine like this.

After shopping, he put the mountain of bread, meat, vegetables, wine and other things onto the trolley and pushed it back to the circus. He sees the dog sleeping beside the heater.

Normally, just before the performance, it would always be practicing together with its owner.

What’s wrong, is it not feeling well?

Red hesitates in approaching the dog.

He remembered that he had sent the dog flying.

I did something really horrible to it.

It’s still a better decision not to get myself involved.

But—

He slowly approaches the dog, still feeling hesitant.

The dog is lying on its side, with no energy in its limbs.

The coat covering the dog must belong to its owner. Even though the coat is really old, once you look closely, it’s actually of high quality.

The dog’s chest rises and falls. The dog, which is breathing deeply as it sleeps, now looks older than he imagined.

And very weak as well.

Red stretches his arm towards the dog, he is worried.

--it’s okay if I just touch it a bit, right?

But I could be hated already.

Even though he felt uneasy, but he still reached out regardless.  

He nervously touched the dog’s body.

The dog did not move.

Slowly stroking its body, the dog suddenly opened its eyes.

“Ah…”

I must have woken it up.

Seeing Red standing there, the dog got up quickly.

Watching Red’s face, it quickly used its back legs to stand up, panting as it did then. Then, it collapsed on the floor.

It must want to perform tricks for him.

The dog rolls around listlessly.

Red continuously rubs the body of the dog, which had fallen down once again.

He wants to make up for sending it flying.

Can this intent reach—

The dog looks comfortable, and licks Red’s hand.

It licked the hand which everyone was disgusted with, the left hand.

Red felt all warm inside.

Like he had been forgiven.

He strokes the dog again.

“If you’re healthy again, if you get well, if-- ”

He said it naturally. It was almost like a prayer.

Red concentrates on stroking the dog.

Then, there was a taste of sunlight.

The dog which was being stroked quietly.

It was as if time had stopped between them.

Just then, the bell announcing the start of the performance rings.

The dog’s ears perked up instantly.

It got up quickly and ran to its owner’s side.

Seeing it like that, Red breathes a sign of relief.

Maybe it was just a little tired…

He holds his hand tenderly.

If it’s possible, he would want to touch it more. ***

It was still snowing heavy up till yesterday, but today, there were no clouds in the sky.

“Ah…”

Red, who had finished washing the clothes, discovered the dog’s owner sitting by himself under a tree near the tent.

It’s Christmas Day today. The performers have all gone out to the street to publicise their performance.

The man in the clown suit did not move at all, just like a puppet which had lost its strings.

The man just silently stared at the ground in front of him.

--What is he doing?

If he’s just resting, then this scene is weird.

But, it has nothing to do with me.

Red will not approach the performers on his own, because they will think Red is disgusting, and ignore him, or order him around like a servant.

But no matter what, he is still concerned. He is the person who is partnered with the dog.

What kind of person is he?

Red moves closer to the man.

“--!”

He almost stopped breathing.

In the man’s line of sight is a hole—the dog is lying in it.

“Is it dead?”

The man stared at Red, with a rather shocked expression.

From the clown’s makeup, he can see that his eyes are a deep gold colour.

“It’s dead.”

The man replied, loneliness evident in his voice.

Then, he started to pile soil on top of the dog.

Red watches all of this quietly.

“…those are all bruises!”

Even under the fur, it can be seen that the dog is covered in bruises that would make anyone wince.

It spoke plainly about how the dog met its end.

--there was only one possibility.

Cosmos.

That guy killed it. A boiling anger surged forth.

Endlessly churning, boiling vigorously.

“It was definitely done by that guy Cosmos. Because, you’re more popular than he is. As long as someone is more popular than him, he would not let it go. His performance skills are obviously bad, but he’s good at doing these things!”

Red started to say without pause, as if he had been possessed.

Compared to the agitated Red, the man replied blandly.

“It had been with me for a very long time, so it wouldn’t have much time left anyway. Forget it.”

“…”

The dog’s body is now totally buried in the soil; the man gently put the ball with the star pattern on the ground, just like a gravestone.

--Forget it.

Hearing this, Red realises that he is very disappointed.

Why, isn’t he angry? Why doesn’t he hate Cosmos?

The fury he felt burned more strongly than before. Red, who can’t do anything, found himself unable to divert any of these feelings.

“Then you’re not taking revenge?”

“If I did that, I’ll be chased out by the Ringmaster, which would mean that whatever I did before would be wasted.”

After saying that, the man put his palms together in front of the grave.

--Che.

What is this.

His partner had been murdered!

How can he be so calm?

Even I hate Cosmos this much already.

At least he should mention something about revenge, right?

Opposite from what Red was feeling at this moment, the man is very calm.

“I’m an outsider anyway. I’ll be leaving for another place after Christmas tomorrow…”

“I see.”

Behind his peaceful answer, Red’s emotions are in turmoil.

He totally regretted it.

To be touched by the performance of such a person, he’s really an idiot.

The man who would not even shed a tear, it’s too much.

The dog’s owner is actually this sort of person.

He really wants to leave quickly. But he is unable to look away from the dog’s grave.

“Hmm?”

The man only looks at Red now.

“Then again, who are you?”

“I’m the one doing odd jobs here…I bought your meals before.”

“I’m not good at remembering faces. Ah, now that I’ve looked closely, aren’t you covered in bruises too?!”

The man licked his own finger and rubbed it against Red’s face.

Facing this sort of unexpected action, Red dodges.  

“Wah! It’s gross! Don’t use your saliva, idiot!”

“It’s antiseptic. Were you hit by Cosmos too?”

“You’re irritating!”

Even though that was the case, he did not want to admit it.

“Do you have friends?”

“You’re irritating!!”

Red shouts.

“This sort of place…I definitely leave once I grow up, so friends or whatever, I don’t need them!”

He remembers the boy’s expression, who had run away after seeing his left arm.

A terrified and disgusted expression.

I don’t need friends or anything like that—

Red is shocked.

The man used both his hands—and squeezed his face.

“What the heck are you doing!”

“You don’t have any energy?”

The man asks, surprised.

Red has no idea what he’s talking about. It was infuriating.

Then, he recalled that the man used that gesture to create an outburst of laughter amongst the audience.  

“I’m sorry, I don’t like clowns. In fact, I dislike them?”

“Aiyaya!”

The man smiles.

“I dislike audience and children who don’t laugh as well!”

“Hmph!”

Red just stares at the dog’s grave. As he thought, since he couldn’t understand, so he can’t leave.

“You…why aren’t you crying? You lived with this guy. It’s not possible not to feel sadness?

When he realised it, the clown was not around anymore.

“?”

As he turned, he found that the man had used a rope to hand himself off the nearby tree.

“I’m so sad I could die.”

“Stop it!”

It could be an act, such a scary feeling.

I have a feeling, this guy, doesn’t feel right…?

“You see, I, can’t cry.”

The man removed the rope from his neck, and explains blandly.

“Maybe it’s already dry. No tears can come out.”

“What kind of explanation is that!”

This person is hard to comprehend.

Red’s attention returns to the grave.

Then again—

“This guy, what’s its name?”

The clown is silent. “I touched it yesterday, and it licked me, it felt so warm!”

That dog which licked him happily.

That dog did not care about my ugly hand at all.

“So today, I also…”

The words are at the tip of his tongue, his whole body is shaking, tears fall without warning.

I also wanted to pat it today. Like, do your best today as well.

“Why, only having this sort of relationship with it, why am I crying…!”

He can’t hold it in anymore.

Red lets out all the feelings that he kept in.

“Wahhh-------------!!”

This is the first time he cried out loud.

The tears flowing down his cheeks feel hot.

“I see.”

The man watches Red, who is crying.

“You’re Allen’s friend.”

--Friend.

This word kept circling around in his mind.

That dog was actually named Allen.

I—have never called that name before.

He recalls the warmth when he stroked the dog.

He wanted to call out its name.

He wanted to be close to it.

Red cried until he was exhausted, and even fell asleep. And the man, just like a puppet with broken strings, just sat next to him. ***

“Urm…” A comfortable swaying—

Red wakes up from a peaceful nap.

How warm…

What, is this…

“Ah!”

Red realises that he’s being carried by the Clown.

He also knows how red his face is.

“Put, put me down!”

As Red said so, the Clown smiles while his body bobs up and down, walking lightly. It wasn’t long before they returned to the tent.

The Clown put Red next to the heater.

“What, what are you doing…”

Even after Red asked, the man does not reply. Not just that, his legs are shaking, like they have been frozen.

“What? Are you cold?”

The man takes out his own coat puts it around him, his expression warms up and he smiles slightly.

“…? You want to say that you’re warmer?...You think you’re acting a mime performance?!”

Then, the man wraps his coat around Red.

It was the coat which covered the dog yesterday.

It’s warm…

A smell just like the sun wafts out. That guy’s smell…

The temperature of the coat, caused him to remember the dog’s warmth. Tears well up, this time, a silk cap was pushed on him.  

The silk cap is slightly larger than Red head, and soft.

“Wait, what are you doing, really?!”

The Clown smiled as usual, after that, the Clown passes over the circus’ flyer. ***

The streets on Christmas are more lively than before.

The street lights are decorated and people are outdoors, carrying the goods needed for Christmas celebrations.

The smell of meat and bread mixes together with the noisy crowd.  

Cheerful cries are heard.

Surrounded by the excitement, Red and the man walk along the streets.

The performers are showing off their skills in the open area.

Red, who was forced to follow, passes out flyers next to the performing Clown.

“…Why do I have to do these sort of things…whatever, I’m supposed to do odd jobs anyway.”

Even though he is not used to being in public, but the coat which the Clown gave him covers up with ugly left arm, so he ignores the stares which others people are giving.

“Wah, look quickly!”

“It’s a clown!”

“It’s great, so vibrant!”

The people who were passing by stopped in their tracks, and smiled at the clown’s performance.

Red, who was standing nearby, had to admit.

This man’s performance has to be the best one so far.

A crying boy approaches.

Even with his mother trying to comfort him, the boy does not stop crying.

The clown gracefully appears in front of the boy.

Then he smiles, pulling a balloon out from his sleeve. Then he inflates the balloon and ties a knot.

What he made was a balloon dog.

The clown passes the balloon to the boy, the boy stopped sniffling and his face is radiant.

It’s perfect.

The children around the clown quickly gathered around him.

“I want one too, I want one too~” “Me too~!”

The clown is surrounded by smiling children.

Red glances over at the clown while distributing the fliers, and the clown turned in his direction.

“What, what is it?”

The clown did a funny action, first walking around with a spring in his step, then doing a handstand, with just one hand.

The people who were watching clapped.

The clown turned once before standing up again, then danced around in circles.

“Wa..wah!”

Then suddenly spread out his arms and used two fingers to point at Red.

Yes, like he meant “He’s up next”

The surrounding audience watched Red expectantly.

“Eh? Ehh?”

Red, who was suddenly pointed out, is stunned.

Seeing his stunned state, the clown tilted his head and shrugged his shoulders, as if he can’t help it.  

Seeing this action, the audience laughed as well.

They thought he had no courage—

Red, competitive by nature, flares up.

I’ll do it, just you see!

Red puts the fliers aside, and stepped on the ground.

The scenery went by in a circle.

A flip in the air. He’s still confident on the nimbleness of his body. After landing lightly on the ground like a cat, the audience clapped and cheered.

The clown crossed his arms, like he’s considering something.

Then he snaps his fingers.

He gently lifts up one leg and on tip-toe, slowly turned one round. This amusing ballet move caused the audience to laugh.

If it like that, I’ll do it too.

“Everyone stand back please!”

After saying so, Red did a little jog and with a push of his arm, executed a somersault, and jumped back up again lightly.  

This showy move attracted more applause and cheers.

The clown then pretended he was so shocked that he fell over, which bought about more laughter.

The clown got up slowly, and smiled at Red. And Red also had a smile on his face, although he did not know when it happened.

They bowed deeply to the audience and loud claps could be heard around them.

Being clapped for, and making people happy, this was the first time it has happened.

The clown passed the silk cap over.

Red held the cap out and some of the audience threw coins in.

My skills were recognised?

Red started to blush—

“Kid, what’s your name?”

Turning around, he sees a man wearing a coat on top of his black priest clothing.

The silver cross on his chest is shining.

He was a big man, Red raises his head, feeling rather nervous. The man puts money into his cap, and watches him.

His eyes were sharp—like they can see through everything.

Even though he’s wearing priest robes, the man gives off a scary threatening aura.

Red is shocked, and stares dumbly at the man.  

His deep red hair, the colour of blood, and covering half his face, is tied in a ponytail,  

The man’s stare seems to stick onto his body, and feels cold.

“Didn’t you hear me? Your name.”

This pressuring sentence caused Red to jolt. I don’t have a name.  Telling himself that, Red ignores the red haired man.

“Oi!”

He acts like he did not hear the man’s voice and continues to give out flyers while saying promotional statements.

“You’re called Allen?”

“No!”

He mumbled, giving a negative.  

He actually said I’m Allen? What is this man saying.

Red glanced at this man.

Allen is the dog’s—

“Not a dog.”

The man replies like he can see through Red’s thoughts.

“…Hah?”

“…If that’s not your name then forget it, listen up, brat, don’t get too close to Mana.”

The red haired man says before disappearing amongst the crowd.

What is up with that…

The man is different from all the people he had seen so far.

What kind of person is he?

Red watches the man leave, his heart pounding.

After he had distributed all the fliers, Red sees the clown.

“Mana…?”

“Hmm?”

The clown reacts to Red’s words.

“Mana?”

He asks the clown. The clown nods.

“Hmm?” “Are you called Mana?”

“Yes.”

Thinking about it, Red finds out that he does not know the clown’s name yet.

“How did you know my name?”

“Just now, a strange man with red hair wearing priest robes spoke with me. That guy told me ‘Don’t get close to Mana’--”

After saying that, Mana’s expression became weird.

It was Red’s first time seeing his serious expression, and felt a little shocked.

Then he suddenly ran off.

“Mana?!”

Red follows in panic.

“Mana, what’s wrong?”

“I need to find that person!”

Mana looks around frantically.

But there was no trace of the red haired man in priest robes.

“Mana, he can’t be found anymore!”

Mana does not listen to Red’s words at all.

So he runs around the streets aimlessly, with no results.

The sun had already set.

The circus performance is going to start soon, it’s time to return.

Mana’s shoulders slump in disappointment.

“…Why do you spend so much effort looking for him, do you know him?” After Red asked the question, Mana replies with loneliness.

“That could be my little brother.”

“Little brother…?”

Mana, not giving up, continued to search through the crowd. He steps forward shakily.

“Ah, wait!”

Mana is still focused on searching the crowd.

Red’s voice did not reach him.

Just then, a horse carriage rushes towards them.

Within a split second, Red pushes Mana into a nearby drain.

“Wah…be careful!”

“…”

“You almost died!”

Even though Mana was reprimanded by Red, his eyes never leave the crowd.

“Seriously, I can’t handle you.”

Red brings him to a park nearby to wash off the dirt acquired when they fell into the drain.

Mana also removed his clown makeup and took off his wig.

Red couldn’t help but stare at Mana’s face.

This was his first time seeing Mana’s real face.

A sharp nose, and a face with wrinkles which showed his age.

And the feature which leaves the biggest impression, a pair of bright gold eyes. Mana meets Red’s stare.

Being stared by Red so much will still make him feel embarrassed, Mana turns away.

“Really, you need to be more careful. You, if I didn’t save you, you would have died!”

“Death is really such a dislikeable thing!”

Mana said, laughing.

“So, you have to be more careful!”

“I guess you’re right, I apologise. Ahh, today’s weather is really good!”

“…what does this matter have to do with weather?”

“The evening sun during this sort of day is the most beautiful.”

“As—I—said, I wasn’t talking about that, I want you to be more careful! I know you’re worried about your brother, but!”

Seeing Red looking rather miffed, Mana smiles slightly.

“You know, I’m only seventeen.”

“Hah?”

Mana looks like a middle aged man no matter how you looked at him.

It could be that Mana sensed what Red was thinking, he smiles, looking rather troubled.

“When I woke up one morning, I realized that I have became a middle aged man. I don’t know the reason at all. But, I was a seventeen year old youth the day before. At the beginning, when I saw my own face in the mirror, I was really shocked!”

Red directed a weird look at Mana, who had suddenly said something weird.

So he really is a rather weird—no, really weird person.

“Even then, after I stared at my looks for a while, I still managed to calm down, then I felt something was strange.”

Red just listens silently without saying anything. Mana felt that Red must be waiting for him to continue, so he continues speaking.

“I have a little brother, but he is nowhere to be found.”

Mana quietly leans towards Red.

“I will say this to you only…”

He moves his face closer to Red’s ear and whispers.

“I am being chased. If I get caught, I’ll definitely be killed.”

“By whom?”

“I think it’s someone called the Millennium Earl, he is a person who can turn humans in AKUMA. Because there are AKUMA everywhere, you’ll need to stay alert.”

Then Mana places a finger over his lips.

This action definitely belongs to a child, this sort of behaviour does not suit him. Red feels that this person is not just abnormal, he could be suffering from some illness.

“My brother must have been separated from me. I must find him. Because if I have turned into this sort of middle aged man, even if he sees me, he won’t recognize me. I need to go and find him…so I need to be alone, and begin my life of wandering.”

“Is that so?”

Red, who had been silent the whole time, speaks.  

“Your little brother could have abandoned you.”

He says this subconsciously.

After the sentence left his mouth, Red is shocked at himself.

“If, if it’s true, what do you plan to do…”

Because of the ugly left arm, you were sold to the circus.

That was what he heard from the Ringmaster.

Being pulled into the circus for an unknown reason, and constantly bullied after that.

Being loathed because of his hideous left arm.

The members who treated him like he’s an object.

It only left disgusting memories.

So he shields away from any relationships that have to do with him.

Because I have been hated by everyone.

Even my parents—abandoned me.

But even a person like me, still had a dog to keep me company. But, it was killed.

The feeling of happiness only stayed for a while.

The painful memories up till now resurfaced in an instant, and it showed in his choice of words.

Red knew what was true sadness and Mana just watched the sky quietly.

The sky was dyed beautifully by the evening sun.

The mix of red and orange, reflected in the snow on the ground, is very dazzling. The rays of the sun lit up the plants, trees and people, changing slowly.

“How beautiful!”

Mana praises. “I love beautiful worlds the best.”

Mana says, yet he looks like he had cried. ***

The time for the performance is nearing. When they returned from the streets, they found a large crowd.

Perhaps it was to get good seats, everyone arrived early.

Entering the circus tent, Red is shocked.

He realises that Cosmos is waiting there.

He is wearing the clown getup, his arms crossed, smiling to himself.

The peace obtained from the time he spent with Mana disappeared without a trace.

This bastard—it was this bastard who killed Allen.

Yet Cosmos is still looking around happily.

“What happened to your partner?”

Mana tilts his head.

“…Who, are you? I’m, not very good at remembering faces…”

Cosmos expression distorts suddenly  

“~~~~?! I’m Cosmos!”

“If many customers come today, it’ll be really great~~~”

Saying that, Mana walks away and disappears to the other side of the canvas.

His steps are light, giving people the impression that he had forgotten his dog’s death.

…Mana may think it’s alright, but I will not think that way.

Red glares at Cosmos.

“…You killed it, didn’t you?”

“Hah?”

Cosmos looks at Red.

“The dog’s dead. It’s body full of wounds. The only person who would do it is you!” “Of course that’s impossible! Calm down, Red. Haha—hmm, that’s right, that’s right. Hey—everyone! Let’s hear what Red just said!”  

Hearing the commotion, the other circus members came over.

Cosmos surveys his surroundings with a smile.  

“It looks like that cute dog is dead. And, it was Red who killed it.”

“Wha…!”

Hearing Cosmos words, Red sucked in a breath of cold air.

“You were performing some tricks with that clown during the day, weren’t you? You may have felt that that dog was in the way, so you killed it to be its replacement!”

“How could I have done that!”

When he was about to say—that it was rubbish, Red felt it.

The other members are giving him cold stares.

He also knows that he is shaking.

--In this place, I’m just a burden. No one would believe me.

His feelings of rage have reached his limit.

“Arghhh!”

He picks up a nearby plank and swings it at Cosmos with all of his strength. But he can only use one hand, and a scrawny child cannot release that much power.

“Ugh!”

Red sighs in irritation, and Cosmos shouts exaggeratedly while holding his shoulder.  

“AHHHH!”

Hearing the sound, the Ringmaster rushes over.

“What’s wrong, Cosmos!”

Cosmos jumps towards the Ringmaster’s stomach, saying.

“That bastard, actually used a plank to hit me! Argh…my hand…”

The Ringmaster glares at Red with fury in his eyes, and used the plank, which had dropped on the ground, to hit him. “Ah!”

Then he repeatedly used the plank to beat up Red, who had fallen on the ground.

He did it until the plank broke, and angrily threw the broken part at Red.  

“You, you bastard…you’re just a useless person!”

He glares at Red on the ground, vein popping.

Anger had caused his fat body to shake.

“I can’t tolerate it anymore. Throw him into the animal cage!”

The Ringmaster speaks like he’s going to abandon Red. Red can tell.

--He didn’t even ask for the reason.

To everyone, the truth is not important at all.

For matters concerning me, to everyone—

A boiling anger overflows.

“Okay, come here!”

The Ringmaster reaches out, like he wants to grab him. But Red escapes easily and rushes at Cosmos again.

Anger had caused the scene in front of him to turn red.

Whatever it is, I don’t care.

He just felt that this cannot be forgiven.

He remembers the dog’s corpse, covered in bruises.

Allen jumping around energetically. Always following behind him. And he would even lick the left hand that everyone is disgusted with.

At least, let me take revenge for him.

Even though I’m not his owner.

Even though I’ve only been contact with it for a short time.

But it dying just like that, it definitely cannot be ignored.

If reasons can be said, there are simply too many! Red silently glanced at his blood red left arm.

Even though this ugly left arm can barely move, but it is as heavy and as hard as lead.

If it’s this—

Red jumps up with all his might.

Twisting his body in his air, he adds a flip.

Then he swings his left arm towards Cosmos’ skull.

He put all the power into his left arm.

He wants to kill him.

With a loud noise, the hard objects collided—

Light shards shine in the air.

“Ah---”

The shining shards attracted Red’s attention, he was shocked.

The person who collapsed was not Cosmos, but Mana.

Mana, who should have gone to the stage, had returned, and even rushed out to protect Cosmos.

“Mana!”

The light shards slowly disappeared on Mana’s head.

“No…you can’t kill him…”

Blood started to flow from Mana’s head.

“You can’t do something that tragic…”

At this time, Mana is still smiling.

His face is now dyed red with blood, with Mana smiling, it’s like he is shedding blood red tears.

“Why…”

He cannot understand.

I need to talk some sense into this bastard.

Even though his dog died, he still can smile so stupidly and even protected the murderer! Red turns angrily towards Mana.

“Why must you be so calm! Why must you protect a bastard like Cosmos!”

Red is sitting on Mana and used his left arm to hit him again.

“Ah…”

For an instant, Mana’s eyes lose his focus.

But he regains his smile quickly.

“Don’t smile! Don’t smile anymore!”  

Red hits Mana again. Again and again—

Every time he swings his red arm, light shards will dance around together with the blood flowing out of Mana’s head

He can’t move his hand anymore.

“Thank you…for making my friend so happy…”

That was what he heard.

Why, why, why.

He couldn’t think anymore. He’s just, just saying what he believed in.

His body is getting heavier.

Mana gently placed his hand on Red’s head.

“Allen is…a very lonely dog in the circus. In the beginning…he didn’t know any tricks, and was treated as a burden…at that time, he was probably…very lonely.”

“What, that is…”

Isn’t that just like me—did that dog actually notice?

“After meeting you, Allen was very happy…”

Mana stretched out his hand shakily.

“But, don’t spread the tragedy anymore…”

“Mana…?”

Red watches Mana. “Tragedy…tra,gedy, is…”

Something is not right about him.

Mana is like a broken puppet, with broken speech.

His expression is rather blank.

It felt like something important had broken when he spoke—

Red is trapped by a scary thought—

That’s right, I…used this left hand to hit him many times.

Mana is covered in blood.

His head, unbelievably, is scattered with light shards.

“Red! Stop it right now!”

Hearing the Ringmaster’s voice, Red is jolted back to reality.

Two circus members heard the Ringmaster’s orders. They grabbed him and pulled him away forcefully.

The Ringmaster shouted orders as he left the tent.

“No! Mana! Mana…!”

He keeps his eyes on Mana as he is dragged away.

“Bring him to the animal cage!”

As Red was being bought out, Mana slowly opens his mouth.

“Tra…gedy…”

Followed by laughter.

“Will…attract…the Earl.”

Cheers from the audience could be heard from the stage which should not have been opened yet.

Cosmos, as well as the other performers who had been watching the commotion caused by Red, turned towards the stage.

Continuous clapping and cheering could be heard.

The wind blows the curtains apart and the performers can now see what was happening on stage. There were countless number of audiences and on the stage was a fat gentleman.

Sharp ears, large mouth and wearing a tall silk hat.

“Who is that guy…”

Cosmos takes a step forward.

“The first act should be done by me. I will to chase him out!”

Saying that, he ran out.

The gentleman used a cane adorned with a small pumpkin to tap on the ground, and bowed to the audience once he was done.

Following that, the audience in the stand turned into something short and fat. It looked like something out of this world, and was very terrifying.  

“Wahhh!!”

The members screamed.

Mana, who had collapsed backstage, opened his eyes—and saw what was happening.

“Ah…”

The gentleman made eye contact with Mana, who was shaking due to fear, and smiled.  

“…Ea,Earl…”

The customers, who had turned into monsters, shot blood bullets one after another.

On one side of the stage, the members collapsed as star shaped bruises appeared on them.

At this time, the red haired priest appeared in the circus tent.

“Che…as I suspected?

The man took out a gun with a intricate design, and said softly.

“Destroy them, Judgment!” ***

The sky had turned dark. After entering the storage, Red was pushed in front of the animal cage.

The two members kept a strong hold on Red, who had no more energy to resist.

From the cage, the sounds of the fierce carnivores can be heard. Not only was it angry from being kept in such a small cage, the commotion also made it more agitated than usual.

The air smells bad, like rotting fish.

If he entered the cage, he’ll be bitten to death for sure.

--Death?  

In this sort of place?

Because of that insignificant person?

Then, what was I born for?

Red’s body started moving, partly from anger, as well as fear.

What is my purpose for existing?

Is it only to be killed, just like that?

He hears the cheers coming from the circus.

It is such a faraway reality now.

“Okay, get in!”

The Ringmaster’s cold voice shouts.

Red’s small body was easily thrown into the cage.

It is dark inside the cage.

But he could see the overwhelmingly large silhouette of the beast.

It’s tea coloured fur is swaying.

“Ah--”

Growll---

He hears the low roar from beside him.

--There’s no more hope.

Just as the beast opens it mouth, something breaks the cage and enters. It was a yellow round object, and it seems to have wings as well.

“Rawl!”

The beast let out a cry, and collapses, just like that.

“Wha--”

Red stared at the unbelievable change in events.

What just happened?

He stands up shakily. The thing with the yellow wings chewed through the metal bars, flew around the cage once and exited it.

Red leaves the cage, feeling nervous.

“--!”

The Ringmaster and the two members are on the ground.

Beside them was the red haired priest he had met during the day.

He seemed to be the one who finished them off.

“Why…”

The question is circling around in his mind.

As he approached, he realises that the priest’s breathing is a little irregular.

Why, is he here…

Just as Red is spacing out, he is suddenly punched in the face.

“You stinking brat…!!”

Red falls on the floor but quickly sits up in shock.

Did I do something?

Just as he thought that, he froze.

“--!”

A gun is suddenly pointed at his forehead.

Red breathes in sharply.

The priest approaches him, full of killing intent, Red could smell a lingering smell of cigarette smoke.

It was not like Cosmos, who had an unkind expression, or the Ringmaster, whose gaze held authority.  It was really a gaze filled with killing intent.

Killing people, killing, after killing a lot of people, would a person obtain that sort of expression?  

The eyes of the priest were filled with blood.

“I told you not to get close to Mana, didn’t I?”

This time, I will really get killed--

Just as he thought that, the priest’s face collided with something. It was a large impact.

It was that yellow thing, it threw the metal bar it was still holding on to.

“Tim!”

--What was that, this is? A living thing? Why would it save me?

“Che!”

The priest glares at Red, and kept the gun.

“I ran out of bullets.”

The reason did not explain anything.

The priest forcefully picks Red up, who had already turned stiff.

“Don’t forget, this is all because of you.”

Saying that, he released his hold roughly.

Red falls on the ground again.

“Disappear.”

He said that with a sigh, and disappears into the darkness together with the yellow thing.

Red could only stare at the darkness.

If I stay here, I will be killed—

He realises that, and runs away quickly.

He can’t stay in the circus anymore.

But he is still concerned about Mana.

What happened after that? He regrets leaving Mana there, this thought is tormenting him.

But Red remembers the priest’s words, but he wants to return to the circus.

What should I do… ***

The next morning, Red, who had wandered on the streets without a goal, returns to the circus without knowing how he got there.

He found the place surrounded by people.

What happened…where’s Mana…?

Red listens quietly to the voices of the people around him.

“Disappeared? That many performers?”

“Yeah, the Ringmaster and some of the other helpers are still around. The others have disappeared in one night. It seems like the performance cannot be held anymore.”

“!”

Red is shocked.

When he was locked inside the animal cage, he could still hear cheers coming from the tent.

I thought, the performers were still performing as usual---

That many members could disappear so quickly?

“And it seems like they didn’t run away. The clothes of the missing members are still around!”

“All the clothes all carry traces of being shot. And there were rumors that they were attacked, but there were no bodies…it really doesn’t make sense!”

“…what, really happened, even though it’s Christmas!”

Red silently left the chatting crowd in order to hide his expression.

His heart is beating very fast.

The missing members.

What happened after I was bought to the animal cage by the Ringmaster and the others?

Did Mana—disappear too?

Who was that red haired priest? Even though he’s a priest—but he still carries a gun, and has the smell of cigarettes on him.

And, he even wanted to kill me…

--don’t forget, it’s all because of you.

The words which the man wearing priest robes said echoed in his mind.

“Ah--!!”

Red shouted.

“Mana!”

Appearing from the crowd was Mana, wearing a rather dirty clown suit.

Just like yesterday, his head and face is covered in blood.

--You’re alright!

Mana took a look at Red and smiled.

“Where have you been , Allen?”

“Eh?”

Red stared at Mana, shocked.

“Mana?”

Allen is the dog’s name. And it was even a dead dog’s—

Mana did not notice Red’s feelings of uneasiness.

“Today is Christmas! Okay, let’s go to a different place!”

“Mana…? What’s wrong? I’m not Allen. Allen is…!”

Mana did not hear any of Red’s cries.

Instead he took Red’s hand and started walking.

“Right, where should we go next?”

“Instead of that, don’t you need to do something about your head wound?”

“Does Allen have a place he wants to go?”

“Mana!” Mana is very strange.

“Mana? Hey, Mana?”

“Hmm—where should we go? Strange, why, am I travelling?”

Mana tilts his head.

Red, hearing this unbelievable statement, froze entirely.

“You said…to look for your little brother…”

“Little brother?”

Mana stops walking all of a sudden.

“What’s that?”

Mana is smiling as usual, Red turned stiff.

--he had forgotten his motive for travel entirely.

Why?

Because I hit him too much?

--Don’t forget, this is all because of you.

The priest’s words hurt Red again.

Don’t tell me…it’s because of me? Because I hit him with this cursed hand many times…?

“I feel that…I’m looking for something really important.”

Mana is still smiling.

This tone of voice is even.

But his whole body is shaking.

He is sad.

Because he had lost his memory.

His hand, which is being held, can feel it.

“You’re looking for your little brother! Your little brother who was separated from you. Didn’t you say it, yesterday!”

Mana did not react. Only one night, and Mana had changed entirely.

Red stares at Mana with a helpless look.

Quietly, something white drifts down.

It’s snow—

From above the two of them, falling quietly, collecting on their bodies.

Snow, which can turn everything white—

“Mana…”

Mana, cannot revert back anymore.

He had this feeling.

Tears fall from Red’s eyes.

Mana stretches out his hand slowly.

“Don’t be sad…if you’re sad, the Earl will come.”

He says with an empty voice as he rubs away Red’s tears.

“Allen is really warm. And, strange? Why have you grown so big? And you don’t have a tail as well.”

He mixed me up with the dog.

Red had to admit while feeling totally hopeless.

Mana…

The person who was destroyed by me.

“Take me with you Mana. I’ll tell you, what you have forgotten…I’ll remember it for you….please. Take me with you…”

This is my reason for living.

Mana…playing in the snowy night with your dog, then going out to the streets with you yesterday, it was the first time I felt “happiness” together with someone else.

So, this time, it’s my turn.

To make you happy.

I will become your Allen. “We’ll be together always, Allen.”

Mana says innocently, these words hurt Red’s heart very much.

“…That’s true, we’ll always be together…”

Then Red and Mana walked towards the snow.

Always, the two of them, together.

This was the day Red, the young boy, became Allen.

Allen’s story will start from now on.

Meeting the priest again, travelling with a golem, becoming an Exorcist—that will be another story. ----------------------------------------------------------END--------------------------------------------------------------------

Afterword Hello everyone, this is Hoshino Katsura. This is the third volume of the awaited novel, the stories have some relation to the main story this time and both these stories were written by Kizaki-san. The one that gave me the most trouble while creating (laugh) is Mana and Allen’s story.

Allen’s past is still a total mystery, and was practically not talked about in the original work, and even the more mysterious Mana makes an appearance…it might be really great to turn it into a novel, I started working on it with such relaxed feelings, but~it was still really hard. Even though the meeting between Mana and Allen is a simple story, but in order to integrate more mysteries related to the original work, this time Kizaki-san suggested for the first time to produce a work with more structure and collaboration.  This time, I felt really strongly, that I definitely would not become a novelist… (laugh)

It’s really too difficult to tell a story just using words. I really admire Kizaki-san a lot, she could craft my rough transcript into such a brilliant objective story. After so long, being able to work with Kizaki-san again made me feel so happy. And, to the Fan who is holding the book in your hand right now, I’m very thankful for your support. I work hard for everyone who has read the entire story, I’m happy if I’m able to make you feel some happiness as well. Then, I’ll see you next time.  

Hello everyone, this is Kizaki Kaya. This is the third volume of the novel.   To the old and new readers, thank you for picking up the book. This time is the story of Roufa as well as Allen and Mana.

Roufa’s story is about a maiden in love, I felt really happy while creating this piece! How should I write about Roufa’s romance next? (Even though I’m still writing the short story, but just asking that will cause my heart to beat faster)—I suggest you wait patiently for the stories in this volume. And Allen and Mana’s story has some connections to Allen and Mana’s story in the original series. In order to write this story, I re-read the original series, and felt some pain when I saw Allen’s smile and determination. I feel fortunate that I am able to show the D.Gray-man world to everyone in this fashion. Lastly, the acknowledgments. Hoshino-san, who has cared for me, thank you very much! Lastly, thank you to all the readers who have read this book. Some day in November 2010                                                  Kizaki Kaya

——————————————END——————————————————————

@jjfole

@sweetestboi

[softjeon]

Solanacea | Pt. 6

• Pairing: Namjoon x Jimin • Genre: Fluff / Angst | Stripper/Gang!AU • Words: 14k | Co-Writer: Cat @cassiavioletblue​ ↳ (AO3) • Disclaimer: mentioning of drugs / alcohol / violence / graphic content

↳ There was something between them that neither could deny. It was like this from the first day they had met. | PREQUEL TO COLORBLIND (not too important if you haven’t read the fic, but it will give you more background knowledge on the characters) « previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter »

schizantus; poor mans orchid, finely divided leaves and showy variegated flowers with an irregular laciniate corolla and two exserted stamens

Namjoon clicked his gun, his brow furrowed in concentration as he turned around to the other members. “He’s getting in my way for too long now,” Namjoon hissed. The others could feel the adrenaline rushing through their veins, as everyone was concentrating on what was about to happen.

“I want to go home with no one else killed but him,” His voice was dark, his gang leader persona in full display as he got into the car. Hoseok had a grin on his face as he pushed down the petal, driving off into the night. It was quiet, no one dared to speak up as all of them were waiting for the orders of Namjoon, who was deep in thought himself. Looking out of the window, his mind kept wandering off to Jimin, asking himself what he was doing right now.

 The house he had been ordered to this time was a surprisingly big one considering the awful neighbourhood it was in. But Jimin had stopped judging and wondering about people’s motives a long time ago so he just walked over and searched for the doorbell. There was none. So he just knocked on the door. When no one answered he knocked again, more harshly this time accompanied by a few questioning words, “Hello? Anyone there? I have an appointment to meet up with...Jinho!” Footsteps were coming closer from the other side of the door, then it sounded as if a few locks were moved aside until the door was opened. A cute boy was standing in front of him, shorter than him, with soft features, wearing oversized clothes that made him look even smaller. Jimin was about to ask him if his older brother was at home (because there was no way that this kid had booked him) when the other gave him a once-over and then nodded appreciatively. “You must be Jimin. Hongseok had recommended you. Come in. Sorry I kept you waiting, I was busy,” He let Jimin in and then closed the door right behind him, the locks clicking into place one by one. With such a beautiful house one couldn’t be careful enough, Jimin thought to himself.

It was light and clean, everything in order - except maybe for the guns splayed all over the glass table in the living room. Jimin stopped dead in his tracks and Jinho noticed where his glance had wandered off to. “That a problem?” He asked him, voice still calm and velvety but with an underlying sharpness that made Jimin’s spine tingle. “Of course not. Unless you plan on using them on me. Then I would have to charge extra,” He answered dryly and Jinho laughed. From one second to another he was the youthful, delicate boy again that looked barely old enough to buy him. “This way, please,” He motioned for Jimin to follow him into another room which didn’t really look like a bedroom even though there was a bed in it. Maybe it was a guest room. Jinho smiled at Jimin and motioned towards the bed. He himself got around it, opened his drawer on his bedside table and took out a small silver snuff box, a tiny silver spoon, a silver straw and an expired credit card. He flipped open the lid of the box and scooped out a generous amount of the white powder. Using the credit card, he chopped the cocaine into a pair of thick lines. He turned towards Jimin and winked playfully, “Hope you don’t mind.” He inserted the straw into his left nostril, closed his right with a finger and expertly snorted one of the lines. He threw his head back and sniffed a couple of times, reveling in the numbness that spread across his soft palate. Jinho stood for a moment, enjoying the initial buzz as the coke hit his bloodstream. It was good stuff and he knew he would feel it for a while. Turning around to Jimin he smiled, “Let’s get rid of your clothes, babe.”

Cocaine was something Jimin had seen on multiple occasions before, but even though he kept his mouth shut about it he didn’t like it. People could act completely irrational when on drugs and he hated like he couldn’t predict someone’s next move. But it wasn’t as he had a choice, that’s why home visits weren’t on his list of favorite things you do, while of course the club wasn’t perfect it was difficult to get surprised there. At someone else's home though you never knew what expected you.

Jimin hid his frown behind a well staged seductive lip bite before going for the first kiss tonight. He complied easily when Jinho made him lose his shirt and then trailed his hands all over his body before he fumbled at the waistband of his pants, “Take those off.” Jimin popped open the button and then made sure to make a show of getting out of his pants. The longer he took the more the other would anticipate getting into his pants. As soon as Jimin was only left in his boxers, Jinho pushed him up on the bed and crawled on top of him. He was kissing him so hungrily, his hands all over Jimin’s body that it almost seemed rushed. Jinho bit into Jimin’s neck possessively, growling low as he grinded himself against the other. Gripping Jimin’s chin, he kissed him again, his hand wandering down and right underneath the fabric to get a good grip. “Hm,” He murmured, kissing down Jimin’s jawline, “I see why Hongseok liked you.” As fast as he was on Jimin, he pulled off and held him by the hair to pull him along and off the bed again. His touches were rough, his desire mixed with the feeling of the cocaine in his veins as he ordered for Jimin to go down on his knees. “Fuck,” Jinho cursed and pushed his thumb between Jimin’s lips to make him suck on it sweetly, “Can you blow me, baby boy?” It wasn’t really a question so Jimin didn’t answer, just stayed on his knees looking up at Jinho through his lashes the way he knew it would drive the other crazy. He trailed his fingers up the back of the others thighs, up from his knees until he could get a grip on the others ass. Jinho hurriedly got rid of the shorts he was wearing, letting them fall and pool around his ankles, not even bothering to step out of them. Jimin didn’t care. He started kissing Jinho’s hip right below the hip bone, leaning his head against the hard planes of his stomach too close too Jinho’s groin for the other to stay calm about it. “Stop the teasing. I wanna feel those lips on me. I bet you look gorgeous..with those plump lips…,” He moaned quietly at the thought, pushing Jimin’s head closer to where he wanted to have him.

“There’s one guy downstairs watching TV and there’s activity upstairs but it’s indistinguishable. I could see forms moving but could not see past the drapes,” Hoseok explained calmly. “Okay, good. I hate to be spread so thin, but I need Hoseok at the front door and Yoongi and Jin at the back. If anybody of his gang comes out, you just kill them. Good?” Namjoon ordered, pulling down the black mask to cover all of his face but his eyes, as the other men nodded their understanding and approval, doing the same. The gang leader moved around the house, as they entered the house through a side door, leading from the garage. Once inside, they kept low and moved quietly and deliberately. Namjoon motioned for Hoseok to go ahead. From where Namjoon knelt he could see him sneak up behind the man watching tv. He had his gun in his hand, moving like lighting. By the time the man realized there were people in the room with him, he was overwhelmed, and blood was oozing right out of his head. “Man, I love these silencers Yoongi made,” Hoseok whispered and looked in awe at his gun, before he smiled at Namjoon.

Moving further, they moved quietly, hearing muffled voices from a room at the end of the hall. When they could hear footsteps from downstairs, they turned around quick, but only found Jin and Yoongi giving them an ‘okay’ sign, that everything else was cleared. “So far, so good,” Namjoon murmured through the mask he was wearing. There was only one person left. Namjoon slowly tested the doorknob and found it to be unlocked. He nodded to Hoseok who returned the gesture. He made no sound as he opened the door and entered.

Jinho’s head snapped around, as he tried to focus on who was barging in on him, when a loud bang echoed through the room, making him fall back and next to Jimin in an instant. Namjoon had shot him right in the head.

Jimin had flinched on instinct, wiping something from his jaw that had hit him there. It was wet and sticky and when he brought his dirtied fingers up to his face he could see what it was. Blood. Just like the wide spread of colour that was all around Jinhos head. Jinho who stared up to the ceiling. Jimin stared back. His brain couldn’t register that just seconds ago he had been flirting with him, talking as if nothing could happen to him and now... now he was dead. Jimin got up from his crouched position on the floor on shaky knees - and then whipped around when his mind caught up on what had just happened. Jinho had been shot. And there were four men standing in the doorway, with guns in their hands, dressed in dark colors with masks all over their faces. His heart began pounding like crazy and Jimin felt like his stomach was about to fall to pieces or turn into a vaste, fluttering void. He gasped but apart from that his tongue wasn’t working right. Until one of them moved closer, pointing the gun at him.

Jimin raised his hands (as if that would make any difference. It was pretty obvious that he had nothing on him that was even remotely close to a weapon. He was practically naked apart from a thin boxer that didn’t really hide anything.

“I’m...I’m not with him!”, His voice sounded shrill and breathy. “I just...he ordered me to come over! I didn’t...i’m not…,” He breathed out in horror when he realized that this could be it. If he died now his life would be over forever and all he had known was neglection and hunger and selling himself to people to spare him more pain. “Please don’t kill me,” The whisper was so weak that he could barely hear it himself but he could taste the emotion on his tongue; the fear, the sadness, the anger.

Namjoon couldn’t believe when he saw who was in front of him. Jimin shouldn’t be here. He couldn’t be? He should be at work. Safe. Even at home maybe, if he had a day off, but nowhere near this situation right now.

The leader took a step closer, very aware of the cameras that Jinho had liked to install everywhere (which they would make sure to get rid off later, while burning down the house – which was Yoongi’s favorite thing to do). Nonetheless Namjoon knew they had to move fast now, they needed to get out of the building quick, leaving no traces behind. He bolted forward, grabbing Jimin by his arm with a tight hold and dragged him along. Pressing his gun against Jimin’s back, he motioned for the others to move, only growling low instead of speaking. “No! Please…,” The gun pressing between his shoulder blades shut him up and he stumbled along even though everything in him screamed to ‘run, just run!’ but his body felt frozen, weak, unable to do such a simple task as follow his mind’s instructions. But where was he supposed to run to anyway? The house? He had no idea how many else of them there where and he would probably not even be able to make one single step before the bullet would hit him. The shooter had been a lot further away from Jinho - and had killed him within a second, shooting him straight in the head. Jimin shivered, pressing a hand over his mouth not to gag at the memory. It felt so surreal, all of this that he just stumbled along, eyes wide with fear and body stiff and in shock.

Namjoon could feel the fear of Jimin and he had a hard time keeping his demeanor up. He tried not to hurt Jimin, while they walked out of the house quick. But Namjoon had no choice, he had to get them out of there. When they heard footsteps coming by the house, Namjoon forcefully pushed Jimin against the stone wall that surrounded the property like a fence. He pushed his hand over Jimin’s mouth to keep him from screaming, the gun still pointed at him. Jimin could feel the masqued man taking him over, one hand around his mouth, the other so tightly around his waist that he didn’t knew if his problem with breathing came from the hand covering his mouth or the tight ‘embrace’ or simply fear. Because it scared him, how easily the other was dragging him along, no word, not even a threat, he just took him with them as if he was a trophy for that kill. Jimin was about to throw up.

“What do you want to do with him?” A low voice murmured but Namjoon didn’t answer, instead he pushed the gun further into Jimin’s back, before he pushed his head down to roughly shove him into the car. The moment his back hit the seat cushion he knew he needed to get out and he scrambled to get onto his feet, trying to push against the door at the other side of the car and then it opened but...there was someone coming in and he was held back again. He sobbed, only once, before biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. A sudden calmness washed over him. He wouldn’t let them see him cry. He would fight, until his very last breath. And if this would be how it ended - then he couldn’t change that. Jimin’s heart ached when he thought about Namjoon. The other had been a silver lining on his darkened horizon and now that there was no room for pretense anymore he knew that he liked him a little too much for a customer. Or his own good. He hoped that Namjoon wouldn’t think that he had run off without saying goodbye. He would have liked to say goodbye if only he could. Although there was no way they would let him do that, with calls being able to be traced back nowadays and all that shit. He wondered if Namjoon would even stand there, coffee in hand, smiling, waiting ... or if his absence had been the prelude to him never coming to visit him again anyway. Maybe it would be better like that. Namjoon wouldn’t think he left and Jimin wouldn’t have to feel guilty about leaving without a note. He almost laughed. As if he had a choice. A tear rolled down his cheek and he hastily wiped it away. No tears! No crying. No matter what they would do to him he wouldn’t cry. That was the only thing he felt like he had control over right now.

„Drive!“ Namjoon yelled at Hoseok, who instantly pushed the pedal all through, making Jimin gasp from the speed. When Hoseok made a turn out of a sudden, Jimin almost flew around if it wasn’t for the hand on his chest, that made him stay where he was. Only then, when Hoseok drove up the highway, gaining more speed, Namjoon pulled off his mask as everyone followed him. “Fuck, Jimin!” Namjoon growled turning towards the young, half naked boy who was looking at him with wide eyes. “The fuck you’re thinking being out there? You can’t always…,” He broke off, pulling his pullover over his head, before he pushed it into Jimin’s hands motioning him to wear it and leaving him only in white shirt, “Fuck, you can’t always keep coming in my way. Do you want to get killed one day? I told you to stay safe while I was gone and not go out to the maddest place in town.” Namjoon kept on cursing, raking his hand through his hair, his chest heaving heavily from all the adrenaline that was racing through his veins, as he put his gun back into his holster.

Jimin’s face fell when that guy holding him pulled off his mask and revealed a familiar face. That couldn’t be - it was just wishful thinking! There could be no way that… Jimin looked around, seeing other familiar faces like Yoogi or someone he didn’t know the name of but had seen him accompanying Namjoon to the stripclub once. Then it sunk in. Namjoon had shot someone. Right in front of his face. While had been on his knees for that guy. The anger rushed through him like a hot wave and before he could think anything else he lunged out and hit Namjoon square in the face.

“How dare you! How fucking dare you say I’m in your way when you just killed the man I was with and fucking abducted me from there!” If looks could kill Namjoon would have been dead on the spot. He threw Namjoon’s sweater back at him even though now that everyone was looking at him he felt more naked than before. But he was a stripper, he was used to the feeling of lots of eyes on his naked skin and he preferred that over doing Namjoon the favour of dressing in his clothes. “Just let me out of that car,” He demanded sternly, “Now!”

Namjoon held his cheek as he felt the burn of Jimin's slap. Everyone was silent, staring at Namjoon, waiting for his reaction. No one had ever hit their Boss before and they weren’t sure how to react. "Okay, I guess I deserved that," Namjoon said and rubbed his cheek, "I'm sorry, I can't let you go right now." Namjoon tried a smile, but kind of knew that nothing could really lighten Jimin's mood and he wasn't very keen on getting hit once more so he shut and turned away. "I'll explain everything when we're home," He grunted, moving his jaw around a little to loosen it up again. Meanwhile Jin was still looking at Jimin like a deer in the headlights, murmuring to himself, "He really hit him...he just...hit him...straight in the face, wow."

Jimin angrily stared at Namjoon for a second longer before he crossed his arms in front of his naked chest and huffed in annoyance. He couldn’t really do anything right now and he wasn’t stupid enough to try and jump out the car or mess with about four armed people who had just shot at least three people. “Alright. I’m really curious how you are going to explain that to me…,” He murmured under his breath, looking the other direction and out the window on purpose. It was getting a little cold after all so he brought up his legs and kept them close to his body which made him look even more vulnerable than before.

Namjoon could still feel the sting of Jimin's hit. He had hit him pretty hard, something that he really hadn't expected. Of course Namjoon noticed that Jimin was freezing, but he had been hurt in his own pride that he held on to his sweater, not giving it away again. After a long drive, they finally parked in front of Namjoons mansion, the headquarters, where Namjoon and his closest members were living. He opened the car door, waiting for Jimin to step out. "Don't even think about it. You won't find the way back through the forest," Namjoon explained calmly.

“Sure. But i won't have to. You brought me here - you’re gonna bring me back home. It’s the least you can do after everything you did today,” Jimin didn't even move one bit, making it very clear that he had absolutely no intention of getting out of the car. Now that it was only him and Namjoon left, he wasn't as careful because he was still certain that Namjoon wouldn't hurt him. If the other had wanted to he could have just shot him back in that room and Jimin wouldn't even had the time to turn around before exhaling his last breath. So Namjoon must want to keep him alive.

But Namjoon had about enough for today and he really didn't need a whining boy on top of it all. Especially now that everyone eyes were on him and Jimin. The members were still standing at the door, trying to hide but also to listen carefully to what was happening, fascinated by their speechless leader. Never before had someone tried to speak up to him. They all knew better. "I told you before what my job is, why are you even mad? Be happy that I shot him," Namjoon was angry and  slowly getting tired with Jimin's antics. "I only kidnapped you because I couldn't have you go all crazy on me in the house. We needed to move. The gun was locked anyways. I told you i won’t fucking hurt you!" Namjoon said but Jimin wasn't really listening, demanding him to take him home instead, when suddenly Namjoon snapped, reaching in to grab Jimin and to pull him out.

Jimin did his best to avoid Namjoon’s hands, fighting him off like a five year old because he didn’t want to hurt him. He could defend himself if he wanted but that one slap was enough damage, he knew Namjoon wouldn’t hurt him so he intended to treat him the same way. Namjoon still managed to open the seatbelt and get his hands under Jimin, yanking him out of the car. Jimin half expected to hit the floor but Namjoon just adjusted his grip - and then hoisted him up into his arms. Jimin let out a squeaky yelp (that he was very glad Namjoons people couldn’t hear) and held onto Namjoon for dear life. When he realized that this was exactly what the other had wanted and that Namjoon almost casually walked over to the door, carrying him bridal style (it also didn’t help that he was still half naked and blushing a little) Jimin started to struggle again. “Let. Me. Go! I won’t. Get. Into. Your…,” He stopped because he had no idea where he was. It looked too big for a house for one person but too nice for a headquarter. Jimin would have expected something more hidden, dark and secluded. Maybe some barbed wire.

Namjoon was struggling with Jimin in his arms, but only tightened his hold around the boy, thankful for the distraction that the new environment was giving Jimin so he was rather looking around than fighting him off more. Though he didn’t stop. “God, fucking, Jimin,” Namjoon hissed and tightened his grip once more, pressing Jimin against his own body more to keep him from moving too much. “You’re already in, so stop fighting!” Namjoon exclaimed and closed the door behind him with the back of his foot and walked along, “Just trust me, okay? It’s not good, if I bring you home again. Not now.” He kept his tight hold as he passed the other members, who mostly were watching in awe but for Yoongi (who was rather judgingly glare at Jimin). Walking up the stairs, he repositioned Jimin once more. “Will you behave now?” Namjoon asked, gazing at Jimin with deep furrowed brows.

Jimin huffed annoyedly because there was nothing else that he could do. Besides, Namjoon was right. He was already in, he wouldn't get out so he better went with it now. He would get back at Namjoon sooner or later anyway. When Namjoon showed no signs of trying to put him down (even though he must be heavy by now) Jimin decided that he could just as well try to fluster Namjoon now. So he put his arms around Namjoons neck and - while Namjoon was busy to adjust his grip - he wrapped his legs around Namjoons waist right before Namjoon was walking through all of the other people from the car who were still standing around maybe waiting for new orders. Namjoon had stumbled back a step, when Jimin wrapped himself around him like a koala, but he kept holding on. Jimin grinned at them over Namjoons shoulder. Lets see how many of them he could piss off. Then Namjoon would simply have to send him away!

“Are you trying to embarrass me now?” Namjoon murmured, trying to keep his leader demeanor as everyone’s eyes were on the two of them. Everyone of the members had their room across the hall, with Namjoon’s being the last one at one end. He had only bought the mansion a while ago, when he finally gained enough power and money to do so. So, it still was only halfway done, and many rooms were still under construction, but he loved it nonetheless. It was far off from the real world, right inside a deep forest that no one would go in to, since it was near some mountains and a danger sign was keeping hikers from passing the boundary. Namjoon didn’t want to admit that he felt a little flustered right now, especially after most of them knowing that Jimin was a stripper and that he had met him in his club before multiple times. It didn’t help that he was bringing Jimin right into his room. Jin was looking at Jimin with a raised eyebrow, smirking before he closed his own door behind him. Contrary to Hoseok and Yoongi, who were gasping, wide eyed. When it didn’t had the desired effect on Namjoon he decided to turn it up a notch. At least he had managed to shake Yoongi’s bored facade a little - but he wanted a reaction from Namjoon as well. So he hurried to make sure that they could still be seen from where the others were looking after them, before he gently kissed Namjoon’s neck, below the ear, then a bit lower, where he could feel the pulse beat heavily against the delicate skin. He leaned in on Namjoon to whisper into his ear seductively. “If I had know you only wanted to take me home you should have said so. I would have come willingly. So does this mean I’m gonna have all of you tonight?” Jimin braced himself in case Namjoon just threw him off but nothing like this happened and he pouted, looking more like a child clinging to his kindergarten teacher than a stripper.

Namjoon stumbled a little from the sudden kiss, followed by Jimin’s whisper but he kept himself together enough for the other not to notice. He reached out for the door handle and opened the door behind him easily. Walking over to the bed he gently let Jimin go, taking his hands off his neck and placing him onto the soft mattress. “There,” Namjoon said and turned to close the door again, so no one could look inside. Walking around the bed, he opened a drawer, got out one of his guns that was always there laying next to him and put it onto his holster. “Don’t think you need this tonight,” Namjoon said and leaned onto one of the poles of his huge four-postered bed. As soon as Namjoon had closed the door behind them Jimin was back to looking annoyed and pouty. Only when Namjoon got out a gun did his heart skip a beat and his eyes widen in fear for a second. But Namjoon kept talking calmly and Jimin relaxed again. He did trust Namjoon. He had done way more stupid things than that and somehow he was sure that Namjoon was honest with him. He would have still preferred not to be abducted like that. Namjoon was looking at Jimin carefully, walking closer to the other who was sitting on the edge of his bed. Reaching out, he swiped away some blood off Jimin’s cheek. “I promise you’re safe here,” Namjoon whispered, looking down at Jimin with a smile. For a second the world seemed like it stopped and the usual effect the other had on Namjoon was setting in. Only looking into his eyes was enough for Namjoon to grow soft again.

When the other reached out for him, touching his face incredibly gently he wondered if there had been actually a bit of truth in his teasing and if Namjoon would kiss him now - but they were suddenly interrupted. Of course it was Yoongi. Who else could it be. Jimin let himself fall back onto his elbows. trying to look as if he enjoyed himself immensely. “Boss,” He looked at Jimin warily before his gaze met Namjoon’s, “Can I talk to you for a second?” Namjoon nodded and looked at Jimin again, pointing at the door on the other side of the room, “There’s a bathroom right there, you can clean yourself up. Feel free to use everything there is in this room. Though I don’t think my clothes will fit you much, but …eh… Yoongi is probably your size so he’ll get you some pants, if that’s fine with you? Tomorrow morning I can send someone to buy you new stuff.”

“Wait!” Jimin grabbed Namjoon’s arm and held him back even though Yoongi's eyes turned into slits and the other was glaring at him which was very obviously a warning. Jimin ignored him nonetheless, “Tomorrow? Why would I be here tomorrow? They will find out what happened and that I got nothing to do with it. You can let me go. Namjoon, I won’t tell on you. You have my word. There’s no need to lock me in here.” Contemplating about what Jimin said, Namjoon looked at the other with soft eyes. “I don’t want to lock you in, believe me,” He said and put his hand above Jimin’s that held tight to his arm, “I just want you to be safe. There’s still people from Jinho’s gang out there, they probably know you’ve been there.” Yoongi crossed his arms in front of his chest and smirked, “And how do we know that we can really trust you?” Namjoon didn’t even bother much about what Yoongi said and took Jimin’s hand and kissed the palm of it, “I promise I’ll let you go as soon as I can. I’ll let Jin watch over your apartment to see if it’s safe then. Be my guest until then.” Jimin sighed deeply. Then his shoulders sank a little and he deflated, washing every mask away until it was only him in his simplest honest self, weary and tired. “Ok. I’ll stay then. But…,” He looked at Yoongi, too exhausted for open hostility so his next words didn’t sound half as scary as they were supposed to be, “If anyone tries to mess with me I’m going to fight back.“ Then he just turned his back on them, hoping that Namjoon would keep the others at bay so that he could get some rest. “Can I sleep in here?” He would have loved to just sink down into the cushions and fall asleep but it felt as if there was still blood on him - even if he couldn’t see anything on his skin. “It’s your room for the next days,” Namjoon said again and smiled, feeling happy that Jimin was staying willingly in the end. “If you’ll need me you can find me in my office,” He said before he closed the door and left Jimin alone. “Thank you.” At least he had a place to be and Namjoon didn’t take him into his own room where he was supposed to sleep on the floor in a sleeping bag or something the like.

Walking down the hall, Yoongi had a hard time keeping up with Namjoon. “Why do you let him stay in your room? Namjoon! You can’t sleep on the little couch in your office?” Yoongi asked hastily, being annoyed from the intruder and Namjoon’s little interest in his own health and safety. “I can very well decide on my own, Yoongi,” Namjoon only answered, “Just make sure Jimin has everything he need. And stop doing… whatever you’re trying to do.” With a determined look, he turned his back on him and walked downstairs again to where his office was. By now it was pitch dark outside, as it was far past midnight and Namjoon felt the tiredness in his bones. He needed to sleep.

Meanwhile Jimin went to the bathroom and made a sound of surprise when he saw how beautiful it was. Decorated tiles and enough space to turn around comfortable. Maybe that wasn’t something special to Namjoon but for Jimin who had hit his elbows one too many times in his own shower while trying to clean himself up it was a little piece of heaven. And - Jimin stepped forward and turned on the water, a smile blooming on his face - he got hot water from the start. No waiting patiently until the water turned bearable and having to be quick in case the warm water ran out and he was stuck under the ice cold spray. Happily Jimin undressed what little he had on and stepped under the water to wash everything off his skin and drain the memories of tonight with it.When Namjoon opened the door to his office, he sighed deeply. The couch he had in his office was fancy but a small one, nothing to be able to sleep on properly but he wanted Jimin to have somewhere to sleep safely. The other rooms in the house weren’t finished yet and he didn’t wanted to get to close and sleep with Jimin in one bed. He could have slept on his way bigger couch that took almost one corner of his room, but even sleeping in one room together felt not right. Getting a blanket and a cushion, he got himself comfortable, sending a quick message to Hoseok, so the other knew to take care of Jimin tomorrow.

...

Namjoon scrunched up his nose in pain, massaging his neck lightly as he felt a pounding headache. He hadn’t slept well and most likely tug a nerve, which Yoongi was scolding him all morning about until Namjoon snapped at him, reminding him who was making the decisions. Meanwhile Hoseok was happily jumping up the stairs to Namjoon’s room, knocking twice before he spoke up from outside, “Good Morning, sleepy head! I should ask if you want to come downstairs for breakfast or if we should bring it upstairs for you?” The knock on the door made Jimin stir a little bit he just turned in his sleep and didn’t wake up enough to register that there was someone trying to wake him up. Where he lived, the walls were thin so he had gotten used to sleeping through practically everything. Additionally even though he had been really exhausted the adrenalin had kept him awake for a good while longer before he had been able to fall asleep so his body was simply trying to get a little more of it with ignoring Hoseok. Jimin had half thought about not wearing Namjoons clothes out of spite again but after the shower getting into his thin boxer wasn’t really a nice option so he had gotten himself some sweatpants and a dark sweater out from the storage space. He loved that they were too big on him because he had a thing for sweater paws. It made him feel absurdly safe.

When there was no answer, Hoseok slowly opened the door and peeked inside, “Jimin?” Still nothing. Wondering if the other was still sleeping, he walked over to Namjoon’s bed. A smile graced Hoseok’s lips when he saw Jimin, pouty in way too big clothes, cuddled up into a big blanket. Jimin looked quite lost in the big bed all by himself, but it made him look even cuter. Hoseok dared to take a step closer, cocking his head to the side as he watched Jimin sleep. After a while he dared to poke Jimin’s cheek a little, calling out his name in a whisper. Touches however had always been something Jimin was sensitive to. And being poked wasn’t exactly the most gentlest touch either. So he squinted sleepily, registering a shadow hovering over him that had a face. A big, grinning face of someone he couldn’t really recognize at the moment. So he did what most people would do when someone strange was hovering over them in their sleep: He screamed. Loud and clear. Then he gripped his cushion and started hitting the person standing over him repeatedly in the face.

“Ahgh,” Hoseok yelled as he got hit right away, but reacted quick grabbing both of Jimin’s wrists, only when the other didn’t stop screaming he pressed a hand on Jimin’s mouth, “It’s me! Hoseok! I just wanted to ask you if you wanted breakfast or not!” Then he let go again, taking a step back right away and looking at Jimin from a distance, “So, now let me ask you again. Do you want to eat breakfast downstairs or upstairs in your room?” Hoseok was only hoping that Namjoon didn’t hear the scream from Jimin, or else he knew that he would get his ass whooped for scaring his little trophy. Jimin’s body had been stiff instantly when Hoseok held him down, keeping him from making any more sounds. His mind went blank with fear when the memories of what had happened last night came back and he remembered where he was. Would Hoseok choke him with a pillow? Did Namjoon’s people decide to get rid of him? If they told Namjoon that he ran away then no one would ever know what happened to… Only the word “breakfast” got through the haze of his mind but it was enough to have him come back to his senses. “B...breakfast?” He repeated, blinking owlishly at Hoseok. “You mean... you got me food? Like real actual...food?”

“Is there something as not real food?” Hoseok raised his eyebrow, “You can either decide to come downstairs with me or I can bring you something – whatever you like. Namjoon made Yoongi cut some fresh fruits for you as well, apparently you like to eat them in the morning?” Hoseok almost laughed at Jimin’s shocked and at the same time innocent looking face. “So, you’re coming or nah?”

“I was just, surprised, that’s all,” He answered, blushing a little because of his obvious dumbfoundedness. He hadn’t expected to be treated like a hotel guest. Also Hoseok was strangely nice to him. Didn’t he think of him as a threat for Namjoons safety or focus like Yoongi did? “Is...is Yoongi still there?” Jimin was grinning at the thought of Yoongi cutting fruits for him. He bet the older’s face had been more bitter than any grapefruit. Hopefully Yoongi hadn’t been angry enough to mix something in his food. But he pushed that thought aside quickly. Namjoon’s men were trained killers, not amateurs. If Yoongi wanted to kill him he wouldn’t do it as obviously as poisoning him where everyone would know that it was him. So being careful around Yoongi would be necessary, but he didn’t plan on refusing the food. “Thanks, I’ll come with you in a bit. Just let me put some water on my face.” He knew he looked puffy after sleep. “Sure, I’ll wait,” Hoseok said and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms in front of his chest. When Jimin returned he playfully winked at him and opened the door with a little bow. Walking down the hall, Hoseok explained Jimin all about the mansion and how Namjoon had bought it, only for him and his closest members to live in. “It’s still a lot under construction though, so you shouldn’t be wandering off too much or maybe Namjoon gets mad,” Hoseok said and went downstairs with Jimin in tow. “This place is really safe, no one really knows about where it is, not even most of the members who are living all over the city,” He motioned for Jimin to walk to the left as he opened the door to the kitchen, “So you can call yourself lucky to be our guest. We don’t have them very often… most of them don’t come out alive in the end.” Jimin instantly relaxed when Hoseok began chatting with him as if Jimin was a (hotel) guest and Hoseok the tour guide, telling him openly about everything they saw. He enjoyed Hoseok’s natural happiness a lot because he didn’t had someone like him around himself often therefore he appreciated it all the more. Only his last sentence did he comment with a wry smile,“You do realize that this is quite a disturbing thing to say to someone who prefers to get out of here alive.”

He stepped into the kitchen and looked around the wide and open room that could have very well been from a “home and living” catalogue. Hoseok stayed a bit behind him and Jimin felt instantly more insecure to walk around the room without the security of someone who he knew was on his side (or at least not against him). “Will you eat with me?” He therefore asked pleadingly, giving the other one of his beautiful smiles that could melt hearts. “Sure, I’m your personal tour guide today, just following Namjoon’s orders,” Hoseok saluted jokingly and walked in, getting out all the stuff Namjoon had let the others prepare for Jimin. He waved over Jimin, not wanting him to stand there watching him but rather feeling included right away.

After a while of happily eating and chatting, Hoseok head snapped around when Namjoon walked in. Rolling his head around, he tried to get rid off the tension around his neck as he leaned against the kitchen counter mumbling a ‘Good morning’. Jimin noticed right away how Namjoon was holding himself. And because he had helped the other relax before - and also because he wanted to talk to Namjoon about how they would handle the situation, now that they all had slept and he could think more clearly, he put his toast away and asked him bluntly: “You want me to help with that?” He gave a nod towards his neck so that Namjoon would know what he was referring to in case it wasn’t obvious. It was strange seeing Namjoon move around the kitchen in thoughts. He had been either all dark and mysterious when he visited Jimin at the club or smiley and carefree when he had brought him to work on their coffee meet ups. Seeing him like this, preparing himself some coffee or tea while mumbling to himself and almost knocking over the fruit bowl while reaching for the water boiler looked oddly domestic. And in Jimin’s eyes also utterly cute.

“No, I’m fine,” Namjoon smiled faintly, not really wanting Jimin to get out of his way. He wasn’t at the club, nor was he in need to do anything for him. All he wanted was Jimin to feel safe and cared for as long as he stayed here. “Do you mind if I go upstairs in my room and get out some stuff?” Namjoon asked and when Jimin nodded, he turned around right away with his coffee in hand. Walking in to his room, he looked around and smiled when he saw the mess of his bed sheets, knowing Jimin had slept here, hopefully safe and sound.

Jimin had nodded out of instinct, but when Namjoon was gone he leaned in close to Hobi and asked him with a confused look, “Why does he ask me if he can go to his room? Is he always that polite? That’s kinda strange for a gang member to do, isn’t it? Not that i’m complaining, I like him that way, just… why did he end the conversation like that? he could have just turned around and gone if he wanted?” Hoseok cocked up an eyebrow in confusion, “Ehm, I guess it’s because he respects your privacy, even though you are sleeping in his personal bedroom. You are wearing his clothes, right? And got them out of his closet? I told you most of the rooms are still under construction, so he let you sleep there and not like Yoongi suggested in the basement.” Hoseok shrugged his shoulder and bit off his toast again, “And yes, he is actually quite polite for a gang leader if you ask me. Though you shouldn’t get on his bad side too much. I mean, you have seen him shoot… right through the other’s head.” He was chuckling lowly, remembering the moment vividly and a devilish grin appeared on Hoseok’s face, “I wish I could shoot as good as he does.”

“Wait, what?” Jimin interrupted Hoseok before he could continue talking. “I’m sleeping in his bed? But...if I’m sleeping there where is he staying? How many bedrooms does he have?“ He pointedly ignored that Yoongi had wanted him to sleep in the basement because he had no idea how Hobi would react if he told him that Yoongi should please switch places for him for just one night if he wanted to talk shit about him, but considering they were working together it was definitely wiser to keep his mouth shut about Hobi’s colleague. Still he was getting a bit angry. It wasn’t as if he had chosen to get mixed up in this.

When Hoseok told him that Namjoon was sleeping on a couch Jimin thought that the other was fucking with him at first, but Hobi was as honest as ever. He jumped up immediately, “Uhm, can I please leave the food now and clean up later? It’s really nice that you kept me company and I’m sorry for running off like this but i have to tell Namjoon that.. .you know he can’t sleep on the couch like that. His back is gonna kill him! I know, I had the “pleasure” of kneading out every one of his knots. He can’t let it get that bad again, it might put pressure on the nerves in his neck and cause dizziness and nausea and... for someone like him that could be deadly!” Jimin didn’t realize that he was acting like a mother hen caring for her chicken, he was too focused on getting to Namjoon while he still knew where the other was while also not being impolite to Hoseok who had been so nice to him (and was also the only other person he liked so far).

Namjoon was still gathering some of his stuff, that he would need the next days, before he let himself fall onto his couch. Rubbing the sides of his forehead, he groaned. He hadn’t heard from Jin, yet who was supposed to go out and observe Jimin’s apartment and Namjoon still wasn’t sure how he would make sure that now Jimin was involved in all of this, that he would stay safe after. The best for him was to stay by Namjoon’s side, but he couldn’t handcuff the other to himself. He knew he would need to let him go home at some point. Leaning back his head, he looked up the second the door opened, putting a smile on his face when he saw Jimin, “You okay? You look a little out of breath?”

“Yeah I’m fine,” Jimin answered, closing the door behind him, “But you aren’t. Why didn't you tell me that I was using your bed? You’re not supposed to sleep like this, you know that!” Without asking or giving him a warning first Jimin sat down behind Namjoon on the couch and placed his hands on the other one’s neck, “I wanted to ask you for an update anyway. So I can just as well knead the stiffness out of your muscles while we talk.” And with that he pushed his thumbs into Namjoons muscles the way he knew would have the other surrender. It was either that or hurting himself if he tensed up instead of letting Jimin in. “Thank you for the effort by the way. The breakfast and everything. I’m sure Yoongi tried to kill the poor fruits with his icy looks. Hoseok told me. He’s a nice guy. Maybe a bit creepy when he talks about killing but apart from that very nice. How long do they work for you? Is killing the only thing you do for a living? How did you get into this business? Why did you kill my customer?” Jimin figured that Namjoon owed him some questions and if he asked them quick enough Namjoon wouldn't be able to tell him to shut up. “I thought it was obvious that this is my room,” Namjoon didn’t try to move away but let Jimin do whatever he did best. He knew it would help him, it did before. “You’re welcome, angel,” He almost moaned when Jimin massaged the stiffness right out of his neck. Namjoon purposely avoided answering Jimin’s ask about an update for now, rather talking about Hoseok and how he got into the gang. Only when it came down to his personal life, Namjoon chose his words warily and his voice gotten quieter. “My father was a drug lord himself, basically. This is all I know how to do,” Namjoon hesitated before he kept on talking, “I own a lot of businesses, but most of my money comes from weapons, drugs and even owning some clubs by now. Jinho was one of my gang members first, he betrayed me, taking away something I held dearly and trying to take over… so it was either him killing me first or I kill him. He had messed enough with me. He’s not one of the good guys, believe me.” Namjoon turned around and looked at Jimin, “I am sorry that I shot him right where you were. I didn’t know it was you. If I knew I would have gotten you out first. Why were you there in the first place? Since when are you coming home to your customers?”

Obvious. As if Jimin would have guessed Namjoon was living in a cozy room with a single bed. Definitely not! He was quiet while Namjoon spoke, only concentrating on his words and his own hands that were still working on Namjoons neck and shoulders. He had guessed that Namjoon had not chosen this life freely, he didn't seem like someone who revelled in the power he held but instead only did what he had to. Jimin wasn't naive enough to ask him why he didn't get away from this. Just like he couldn't stop being a stripper just like that Namjoon couldn't walk away from what he had grown up with. Only when the other told him that he was owning clubs himself did he stop for a second. “Wait - if you own a stripclub then why did you visit the one i work at? Or was it under construction too? Is the reason you stopped coming…,” He bit his lip, hating how he suddenly felt jealousy curl around his chest, “Nevermind.” He tried to act nonchalant when he answered Namjoons question, “Oh, i just started doing home visits last week or so. It was a new thing. Probably wont do it again now though.”

Even if I own thousands of strip clubs, they wouldn’t be the same if you wouldn’t be there,” Namjoon answered anyways, gazing deep into Jimin’s eyes to make him see how honest he was. “I like being around you,” Namjoon gripped the boy’s chin and smiled, “Told you that before. You still don’t believe me hm? And no. You shouldn’t do them again, please.” Jimin’s eyes widened at the sudden change in Namjoons behaviour, almost shying away from him. He wasn’t used to someone trying to compliment him. In the non-dirty way that was. Of course people at the club told him how awesome he looked or how much they enjoyed fucking him - but “being around someone” meant more than that. Especially considering Namjoon hadn’t even touched him like that.

“Uhm, thanks that’s... that’s nice of you to say.” He wasn’t sure how he should react so he asked carefully, “Do you.. do you want me to kiss you? Or...I don’t know how...what am i supposed to do while I’m here? I’m a bit lost here, honestly. When do you think I can get home?” Namjoon chuckled lowly at Jimin’s cute expression and let go of him. “You can do whatever you like? Just be careful if you want to take a walk outside, rather take Hoseok with you because you can easily get lost. You’re not here because I want to use you. You decide what you want to do,” Namjoon couldn’t hide the little blush that was creeping up his cheek as he looked away or otherwise his eyes would have been stuck on Jimin’s lips. He hadn’t kissed or hold the other in a while and if he was honest he was starting to miss it badly. Jimin had been the only person that he could really relax with, “I hope I can bring you home soon. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more, yet.” Of course Jimin had noticed the way Namjoons eyes had been fixated on his lips. And then seeing Namjoon trying to keep himself from kissing him and turning away with blushing cheeks was something that had him smiling stupidly. He felt like Namjoon was letting him in so easily, as if he was pushing all his shields away, allowing him to see a side that was still vulnerable and human. Jimin wondered how much further Namjoon would let him go and if he would continue to bare his heart. If Jimin had given in to his own desires than he would have kissed Namjoon without question. But the situation was making him anxious, he would have loved to get home, make sure everything was in place, that he still had his job, that no one thought that he was involved in this. But the longer he was away the more complicated it would get. There was no room for childish desires now. If everything else was settled then maybe...maybe he could ask Namjoon if he would want to come home with him for a night. Watch a movie, kiss a little. Talk about things that had nothing to do with both of their works. That would be nice. Jimin felt his heart flutter again and his his face behind Namjoons back, glad that in his position Namjoon couldn’t see his soft and happy smile.

Namjoon had left his room soon after, with the stuff in his arms that he needed and came for in the first place. He hated the way Jimin was feeling so lost in his house and with himself. The next days, he tried to keep Jimin busy as much as possible, so he wouldn’t get bored or decide to run off right away, without his official order. As stupid as it sounded to himself, Namjoon had thought that maybe Jimin had liked it here with him, at least not was looking so sad all day as he did. Of course he had made sure that his workplace knew that he wouldn’t be coming in the next few days and that no one else would ask questions, but Namjoon also knew that Jimin wanted to go back. It was his life after all. How could Namjoon think that he would adapt so easily to his? Though Jimin and him were around each other a lot and Namjoon tried to make sure he had everything he wanted, it felt like Jimin felt so badly out of place.

Only a few days after taking Jimin with him, Namjoon was sitting in his office again. It was late and he had no desire to go to sleep, rather letting his thoughts run wild on how he could make sure that Jimin was safe, when he wasn’t around Namjoon. The couch was still as uncomfortable as it was before and Jimin was still feeling like a cat on hot bricks. He felt like he was wasting his time here. He had to make money to pay rent and he couldn’t do that while he was here talking to Hoseok or helping Jin set the table or talking a walk in the corridor outside of his room. He also couldn’t do anything useful. Yoongi made sure that he wasn’t near anything remotely important as to not “get himself in danger” as he had told him with a smirk - but it was pretty obvious that he still didn’t trust him one bit and would have prefered it if he had been far, far away from here. And Jimin agreed with him, if only with that single point of his opinion. Although everyone (except Yoongi) was nice or at least not being mean to him he felt like a stranger. He stood out everytime he came into a room or passed someone on the corridor. The way they looked at him told him that they knew he wasn’t supposed to be there. And even though the food was good (thanks to Seokjin) and his bed was soft (Namjoon refused to trade places with him) he just couldn’t relax. Who knew what happened behind closed doors, what kind of plans they forged out, how many murders were directed. Jimin didn’t interfere or tried to play the upholder of moral standards, of course not, but still… it kept him awake at night. Just like it did right now.

Not being the only one who was still awake, Namjoon was still pacing back and forth of his office, deep in thought. There were still members of Jinho’s gang roaming the streets of Seoul, but not one of them came forward yet or showed any kind of interest to find out who had killed their boss. Jin had only reported, that he had seen a few of them but other than that it seemed like they were swallowed up by the soil. Sitting down at his desk, he scrambled down a few notes, trying to figure it all out. Another reason he was still up was, that his back was killing him and Namjoon had absolutely no interest of sleeping on the couch right now. Everything else was quiet, not one footsteps was audible in the mansion as everyone was fast asleep (or so he thought). Suddenly Jimin was on his mind again, as if the other wasn’t enough already, and he wondered if he would be able to make Jimin feel more at ease. Maybe he should research some more of Jimin’s favorite music or whatever could help. Shaking his head, Namjoon was starting to question his own intentions again. Did he really just wanted Jimin to be safe or just be close to him at the same time?

Jimin slipped out of bed as he had done a few times before when he couldn't get any sleep at all and padded into the bathroom on bare feet. He fished for some socks and a warmer sweater and decided to walk around a little. Maybe he would get more tired if he was walking. He had went along the corridor so many times already that he thought exploring the mansion would be more interesting - and while he was already on his way he could just as well look for Namjoon. He knew that the other never got to sleep before midnight (sadly just like Yoongi meaning there was a high risk he might run into both of them if he would be up long enough) so he would have a higher chance of being able to talk to Namjoon about when he could go home if he asked him now.

He had been staying for more than four days already and everytime he tried to ask Namjoon about when he could go home the other was busy or got a call or someone else interrupted them. So now would be the perfect time. Jimin suppressed a yawn and walked in what he thought was the right direction, only to end up in an empty corridor where the wall looked as if someone had thrown something really big and heavy against it. He blinked owlishly and then turned around quickly. The less he knew the better for everyone involved. Of course now that he had decided to stay awake for as long as it would take to talk to Namjoon his body acted as if he should go to bed right this moment, making his eyes heavy and his mind blurred. He stumbled more than once over the carpet and almost hit himself in the head when he ran into a door that was locked. Jimin could have sworn that it had always been open before. “Shit!” He swore angrily under his breath, getting more and more unnerved by the second. Why the hell couldn’t he find Namjoon after he had walked by his office so many times before?

Namjoon’s head had snapped up the second he heard a dull sound coming from somewhere down the hall and he stayed stilled, waiting. When nothing else came from it, he stayed calm and kept on writing. He shrugged it off, knowing that no one could come in here and if it was one of his members, he wouldn’t need to fear anyone. After a while he heard the sound again though and this time it sounded like someone was closer to his office. Namjoon furrowed his brows, because it didn’t sound like footsteps coming closer. He got up from his chair and walked out of his office, trying to figure out where it was coming from. Hand on his gun, he looked around carefully. If it had been one of his members, they would have gone straight for his office. And no one had any business wandering around in the middle of the night. He looked in each room and suddenly blinked hard when he could make out a figure sitting in the shadows of one corner of an unfinished room. Only when the shadowy figure sighed, Namjoon showed off a sweet smile right away, recognizing the sound, “What are you doing here angel?” Jimin had been fed up with walking through those stupid halls at this stupid time finding someone who obviously didn’t want to be found. Because the only explanation that he had been walking into a closed door again could be that Namjoon had just locked each and every goddamn door tonight to have some peace. Or Jimin was just so tired that he had lost its way. But that wasn’t an option. Because… because! Jimin was pouting and he felt tired and cold and whiny and so he sat down right where he was standing and sunk against the wall with a dull thump. Stupid night! Stupid place! Stupid... Namjoon’s voice next to him made him flinch in surprise and he turned his head quickly, staring at the other as if he had grown a second head.

“Where have you been? I have been searching for you like...forever!” Even to his own ears he sounded like a petulant child but he was too annoyed and sleepy to do anything against it or even correct his tone, “I went through this damn mansion at least twice without finding a trace. Did you hide somewhere? Another secret that you have to keep? Like everyone else is keeping practically everything from me? I wanna go home, Namjoon? Please, when will you let me back home?”

“I didn’t hide, I wouldn’t hide from you ever,” Namjoon’s heart sunk when he heard Jimin plead and he crouched down, so he could look into Jimin’s eyes and not was hovering over him. His heart ached painfully, with the thought that Jimin really didn’t like to be here. Not around his presence, this house, or the other members. “I am so sorry. I didn’t see how much it’s hurting you,” Namjoon said sincerely, “I told them not to tell you much, because the whole incident at Jinho’s… I thought it was enough to bare. I didn’t want you to feel more weight on your shoulders…just wanted you to be safe.” Namjoon gulped heavily and nodded absently, “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it… more like a home for you.” Hearing Namjoon talk gently and carefully with him while he had practically acted like a spoiled child made Jimin incredibly emotional. The tiredness got to him and the pent up tears (he hadn’t cried for about what happened yet because pushing it down had seemed like the better option) were putting pressure on his eyes. Jimin helplessly pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes to keep from crying - but it didn’t help. Hot tears were running down his face and he felt utterly ashamed and small, curling further in on himself to spare Namjoon the sight of his ugly crying. He knew that Namjoon was trying his best but he still wanted to go back home. His place was the only thing that was truly his while not even his body was his own.  

Namjoon didn’t think it would hit him so hard to see Jimin cry, but it did. He tried to reach out for Jimin, but Namjoon wasn’t even sure if Jimin wanted his comfort. If he didn’t even wanted his presence? It all made sense now, when he finally realized that Jimin never wanted to be around him in the first place. Namjoon had paid him or either had forced him to stay in some ways, even if he had no choice. The kiss that they had shared afar from it all, in front of the club, was only Jimin’s way to get him back in, to pay for him. That’s why Jimin had felt the need to do the house visits. Namjoon almost laughed at himself, feeling utterly stupid for thinking that the feelings were mutual. That Jimin felt safe in his presence, as much as Namjoon could relax when he was with the young boy. It took everything from him, to reach for Jimin’s wrists to gently pull them away from his face. “Please,” Namjoon said quietly, “I will take you home. I am so sorry. It was selfish of me.” Namjoon couldn’t help himself, despite everything in him screaming to not lean in right now, he needed to give in to the softness one last time. Just so he could remember it. Cupping Jimin’s cheek he placed a soft kiss on his cheek, kissing away a tear that fell.  Jimin stayed completely still when Namjoon took his hands away, refusing to look at him. Because he knew how he looked when he cried. Too young, too ugly for his own good. To his surprise Namjoon leaned down and kissed his cheek. As if he wasn’t an unwanted bother and deserved consolidation. As if he was worth to be taken care of. “Get your things, I’ll wait at my car,” Namjoon’s demeanor suddenly changed again, as he helped Jimin up. With wide, teary eyes Jimin looked up at him, insecure and hopeful. “Do you.. do you mean it? You’re gonna take me home? Right now?” He couldn’t believe that after avoiding the topic for four days Namjoon had just given in to him so easily. But the decision was easier now for Namjoon, because it wasn’t his to make right now. Jimin didn’t want to be here, so he would take him home.

Namjoon waited for Jimin to get the few things from his room, leaning against the doorframe that lead down to the garage where all his cars were parked. He kept his face expressionless, seeing it as just another task. That’s what it was. Nothing more, nothing less. Just like he was just an ex-customer for Jimin.Jimin had hurriedly grabbed his stuff - which practically only consisted of that one boxer he had worn when Namjoon had kidnapped him - and was back out of the room in no time. His heart pounded heavily and the happiness and surprise of being allowed to go home kept his fatigue at bay. Namjoon didn’t waste any time either, letting him sit in the car and then getting in wordlessly himself.

Namjoon pressed down the button of his opener and instantly pushed down the gas. His eyes focused on the road, Namjoon wasn’t saying a thing. There wasn’t anything that he wanted or needed to talk about now anyways. The engine was almost silent but in the sudden quiet between them it seemed to get louder and louder by the minute. Jimin nervously wiped his face with the sleeve of the sweater he was wearing and remembered that it was Namjoon stuff on his body. Quickly he removed the seat belt and pulled the sweater over his head. “What are you doing?” Namjoon’s hand soared over to Jimin and pulled the sweater back down as much as he could, without losing his focus on the road, “Get the seat belt back on. I don’t care about that sweater. Keep it or throw it away tomorrow.” He glared at Jimin once, as a warning to not even try to argue with him right now, before he concentrated back on getting Jimin home safely.  Jimin’s arms got stuck in the sweater when Namjoon pulled it down so that for a second he lost his balance, swaying dangerously. He blushed hard at Namjoons scolding look but decided it wasn’t worth speaking up. Especially not if that meant he could keep the sweater. And hopefully the other clothes as well. But if Namjoon didn’t want him undressing in his car than both of them had no other choice.

Namjoon really tried to keep his thoughts and emotions in place, but it felt like everything was getting out of his control right now. He hated this feeling, hating it even more that Jimin was the reason he was having them in the first place. He came to a halt, right before Jimin’s apartment, not even turning towards him, but rather staring out in the darkness in front of him, “You’re home.”

This was the end, Namjoon thought and he mentally groaned with the image of Yoongi telling him, that he knew that this would happen. That Jimin had only wanted the money and Namjoon never was Jimin’s choice. What did he even think? He hated relationships, never was in love or anything remotely like that. Maybe he had just seen something in Jimin, something that he had longed for and had tried to keep it as close as possible, so the darkness wouldn’t eat him up whole. But on the other hand, maybe it was time to face it, that everything he knew was the darkness, the anger, the lust, drugs and becoming more powerful and that Namjoon never had the chance of feeling a glimpse of purity. And if he wanted it, he needed to pay for it. Namjoon was cold and distant when they finally arrived and Jimin could physically feel the effect of that. He bit his lip, contemplating if it would be better to just be happy that he was home and leave Namjoon before the other could lash out on him. But he wasn’t someone who chickened out as soon as there were risks. And no matter how he presented himself now, Namjoon had done so much to make sure he felt okay  - going so far as to drive him home in the middle of the night. So Jimin leaned over quickly and kissed Namjoon on the cheek. “Thank you. Really, thanks a lot for bringing me here,” He hesitated for a split second before adding, “Next time you’re at the coffee shop I’ll be the one inviting you to coffee, okay?” Then he got out of the car, hopefully quickly enough that Namjoon wasn’t able to refuse that (or tell him that he didn’t want to see him again because of the mess he had made).

The kiss on Namjoon’s cheek burned with the imprint of Jimin’s lips all the way home, while he was gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. Maybe it was just better for him to move on. That’s why he didn’t show up the next morning, or the following…

Jimin hadn’t even known himself how much he had gotten used to Namjoon being there at the coffee shop every other day. Only when the other kept his distance did he realize that there was more to the ache in his chest than simply missing out on coffee. Namjoon must be busy - but still, if he needed to stay away for longer Namjoon had told him so before. Jimin sighed deeply while walking past the shop. There was no use to spending money he didn’t have on caffeine if Namjoon wasn’t inside. Maybe that was it now. Namjoon had other things to do and Jimin was history. He should accept that instead of being all melancholic about it and staring longingly at the shop every goddamn morning. But...he had thought Namjoon was different. Even though he should have known better. Jimin pushed every thought and emotion aside as soon as he entered the club, just like he always did. There was no place for those kind of feelings. In here he was all smiles and flirty sexiness. He had to sell a product after all.

Himself.

...

A dark figure wearing hoodies stood in front of the brothel, looking up the blinking sign. A smirk pulled at his lips, “This is really where he works? A pity. I thought it would be more elegant.” Walking in, he went straight for the reception, booking himself a room on the second floor. Not even giving the dancer on stage a second glance, he walked past the bar. He could feel the presence of another man behind him. Just like himself, he was dressed in all black – a devilish smirk secured on their lips.

…

The girl from the reception greeted Jimin right away, telling him that he was booked for tonight right away, so his dancing schedule had been changed. “He’s waiting in your room,” She smiled at him, “I’m glad you’re feeling better. My mom just had the flu really bad herself, so I hope you’re all recovered.” She wished him a good shift and returned to her seat behind the welcoming desk. With the girl chatting about the flu with him Jimin felt like a schoolboy who had gotten a notification of sickness from his mum. Just that in this case his “mum” must have been Namjoon or one of his people. Cause he definitely hadn’t called. All the better, this way he didn’t have to make excuses for the last few days.

Jimin’s customer was already waiting, sitting on the edge of the bed patiently. He had been observing the stripper for the past days now, knowing that after a while he would show up again. Though he didn’t think it would have been so fast, after he was the last person to be seen with his now dead leader. He had an idea on who it was, that had murdered him – but he needed to be sure. A friendly smile appeared on his face when Jimin finally walked in.

The man on the bed was a new one but he didn’t look out of the ordinary. Dark clothes (lots of the clubgoers wore them as if that would make them blend in more with the night and hide what they were doing) and a confident smile that almost bordered on arrogant. He could work with that. Jimin made sure to appear soft and vulnerable when he prepared the session because to him it seemed as if that was what that guy would like. He even went so far as to get himself a cushion that he could hug close when he finally sat down on the bed besides him, sitting cross legged and hunched forward to seem even smaller than he was. “So, what are you here for, Handsome?” He asked him, smiling. The new customer instantly pulled Jimin closer, looking him up and down. “You look like an angel,” He said and let his hand wander up Jimin’s chest to his neck. He caressed over the soft skin there as he scooted closer and leaning in. He could feel Jimin come closer naturally, probably thinking that the other wanted to kiss him when his hand held tight onto Jimin’s neck. “Be a good boy and get up. I want you to undress for me!” He murmured before leaning back on his elbows, waiting for Jimin to start the show, “Slow!”

Jimin bit his lip in a depiction of shyness and innocence and nodded to show the other that he had understood. He let go of his cushion and got up immediately, turning to face the other and getting close enough that the man could see him nicely - although he made sure that he was just out of reach. So either the other had to lean forward to touch - or he would have to concentrate on his sight alone and let Jimin include his other senses later, one by one, bit by bit until there would be nothing else but overwhelming lust for him. With a shy smile he started to open the buttons on his shirt. He loved wearing pieces with buttons or zippers or anything else that he could play with. In the rush of a heated night it could be obstructive but on a normal work night it made it quite easy for him to tease a little. His customer was watching Jimin attentively, loving how easily Jimin adapted to his needs. He was giving him praises, telling him how good Jimin was making him feel – feeling the adrenaline rush through his veins from playing a game with the stripper that only he and his partner knew of. When Jimin was only left in nothing but his boxers, his eyes flickered over to the corner of the room and back to Jimin. What Jimin couldn’t see was, that right behind him was another dark clothed figure.

“Oh, I haven’t told you, yet but we’re having a guest with us,” He said. Stripping was something so normal to him by now that Jimin let himself relax a little, swaying his hips and reacting to whatever his customer told him. Push and pull, the usual. He was just about to get back onto the bed when the other said something that made him freeze. He didn’t do two people jobs. At least not when he wasn’t about to lose his home because he couldn’t pay rent. Jimin wasn’t a fearful person but even he liked to minimize risks. And two people meant that he was easily overpowered, in whichever scenario they were playing. He didn’t like that. Before he could ask him what he meant he felt the presence of someone else behind him and whipped around but it was too late. Suddenly the bigger guy snapped forward, his hand closing around Jimin’s mouth while he held back Jimin’s arms tight. It all happened way too fast, making it hard to breath in his shock. “Don’t even dare to scream right now,” The guy said and got up from the bed, slowly walking over to Jimin. “Now, we can do this the simple way or the hard way,” He cocked his head to the side and tapped his chin as if he was in thought, “But just so you know what I am talking about…” While the more muscular guy held onto Jimin, the other sunk his right fist into Jimin’s belly. A grin placed itself on his lips, “So, now tell me. Who killed Jinho?” He struggled hard until the first blow had him slump forward, not by far though because the other held him upright, obviously enjoying how much control he had over Jimin right now. The stripper shuddered violently. He had no doubts that those guys would do whatever was necessary to make him talk. But he couldn’t tell them about Namjoon! He couldn’t get him in danger! Or proof Yoongi right about his loyalties. Still he knew damn well what pain was and how easily a certain amount of it could break determination like glas. He was scared. Utterly, horribly scared.

“I said: Talk!” He shouted at Jimin and the other let go of Jimin’s mouth to give him the chance to tell them what had happened. But there was nothing. He whipped his hand around, smacking Jimin across the cheek only to grip his chin right after, putting pressure onto his jaw. “Now, c’mon little stripper boy, tell me who you saw,” He came closer, his voice angry as he threatened Jimin some more, “Tell me and I will let you go.” Jimin didn’t have to pretend to make himself sound shaky and desperate - still he was lying through his teeth. He would try to not let anything slip for as long as he could. If he was lucky the reception girl would look for him if his session took too long. Which meant that those guys probably only had about one hour with him. Or two. Or three. He licked his lips, tasting the metallic tang of blood already. “I... I don’t know! I had my back on the shooter when Jihon was killed! I... it happened so fast I didn’t know what to do! I was so scared that... i just couldn’t move! I didn’t see anything, really! Why would i still be alive if i did?”

“Sure,...don’t fucking lie to me!” He stepped aside and Jimin felt himself getting pushed forward. Before he could gather himself, he was shoved against the wall, the hold around his neck getting tighter. “Talk now!” He spat at him, choking Jimin merciless. When he still didn’t give him any answers, he threw fists again. This time he hit Jimin so hard that he fell onto his knees. Pushing Jimin down further with his foot, he warned him one last time to speak up. “Please, I swear!” Jimin felt the pain in his ribs starting to spread out over his side. It was a dull, throbbing pain that had him hoping that he would “just” be bruised. He needed to be able to move or else he couldn’t work! How was he supposed to go to work if one of those guys got serious and started breaking bones? “I was too scared to move so I stayed where I was until everything was silent and when i finally got up there was no one! I don’t know who it was! Please, think! If I could tell anyone who it was then it would have been too risky to let me get out alive! They would have shot me if i had seen anything! You would have done the same, right? I can’t tell you anything! Please, let me go!” The man above Jimin cursed silently. He knew that Jimin was right, but he couldn’t let the other just go. “Then let’s hope you are telling the truth, go ahead – he’s yours,” He waved towards the other guy and sat back onto the bed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if he was in thought and didn’t even care what was going on next to him.

Relief had washed through him when it looked as if the man was starting to believe him. But Jimin had underestimated the others sadistic tendencies. The bigger guy was hovering over Jimin, obviously enjoying himself as he got himself ready to give him another kick in the stomach. His left fist hit Jimin in his eye, then another kick slammed against his hips. The beating never stopped, as Jimin couldn’t sense no passage of time in his mind. The man sitting on his bed was watching him with sneer of amusement, mocking Jimin who was curling in on himself. The next blow caught him unguarded and he screamed, trying to make the other stop but the man didn’t have a reason to. Jimin had told him what he knew - or so they thought - so everything else was just to assort dominance or pass the time or have some “fun”. The younger tried to curl up as much as possible, shielding his head and eyes and vital organs but it wasn’t easy to stay focused when the pain exploded within his body every time the other’s fist collided with him. In the end he just tried not to pass out because then he would be defenseless and who knew if he would ever wake up in that case.

Just when Jimin thought he couldn’t take it anymore, he felt a tight grip in his hair and his customer was hovering right over his face again, pulling him up as much as Jimin could move right now. “Last chance,” He said but shook his head, when Jimin stuck to his story. He tried to suppress a whimper when the other pulled him up but failed miserably. Everything hurt. Even breathing was so painful it filled his eyes with tears. Of course he wasn’t stupid enough to change his mind when the other asked him about Namjoon again. First because if he told them he had lied then they would kill him simply for that and second he was still not risking to bring harm to Namjoon. The attacker sighed deeply, patting Jimin’s cheek as if he was a cute little dog. “I’ll be watching you. Good night, angel,” His fist flew again, hitting Jimin right on the temple, knocking him out viciously. Jimin had tried to wrestle out of the men's grip when he balled his fist again but he had nowhere to hide and so the blow hit him full force. He was almost thankful for the darkness that engulfed him because it dulled the pain. Sleep seemed like a heavenly gift right now.

A/N: Here’s another chapter! Whuiiii :) We hope you liked it! ❤ Leave us a comment or message on your thoughts ;) We love to hear them! Oh and I will be back to writing on my other stories soon. It’s just that Solanacea is finished and I just need to edit all the last chapters...and I just had to work so much this week that I couldn’t write anything or make gifs. I’m sorry. 

[spaceshipkat]

alrighty kat, in light of that beautiful tweet, would you like to explain to us how to write an actually morally grey character, or direct us to a good source?

this is actually something i’m still working on with my own writing. it’s incredibly difficult to write a morally gray character, bc you have to make them relateable enough that people will still want to read about this character, but also unrelateable enough that people will wonder why they’re rooting for this character at all. it kind of ties in with the “unlikable” heroines out there. it’s a fine line and if you step over it one way or another, your character will be flat. 

with regard to sj/m, she tries to write morally gray characters, but then she becomes so frantic about making sure that we have the same opinions as she does about her characters and justifies every last thing they do. so with riceman, he was extremely morally gray in book 1 (and since he later gets into a romantic relationship with faerug, abusive. they’re mates. aren’t mates supposedly unable to hurt each other? then why could he grind the broken bone in her arm? i digress.) but along comes book 2 and sj/m starts spewing excuses left and right. it was for faerug’s own good; he had to do it to keep up the facade of darkness and evil and blah blah blah; the night court is not a place of doom and torture, it’s actually so pure and the fae have snowball fights. 

likewise with alien. she’s an assassin who doesn’t assassinate? mmkay. it also doesn’t help that sj/m has introduced demons as a huge adversary, bc it lessens even more the chance of moral grayness. suddenly your characters aren’t killing humans, they’re killing faceless, nameless demons without personalities or anything to endear them to us. so moral grayness also hinges upon what your character’s morality is based upon. in the case of the valg, no one has to question morals. and i’d even go so far as to say that alien has no moral grayness in e0s as she’s threatening to burn people alive. that is straight up villainy. if sj/m was planning on doing anything with that, it might be an interesting character choice. but bc alien is her self-insert, everything she does is for the greater good, even colonialism. (anyone else notice how sardines won’t kill people as a killer-for-hire, but alien will burn anyone alive simply bc they looked at her the wrong way?) 

sj/m had a chance at moral grayness with faerug: in chapter 1 of ac0tar, faerug isn’t sure if the wolf in the forest is a fae or not, but she kills it anyway. that’s a great way to set up moral grayness, but again, sj/m can’t stand when her favs aren’t thought about one way no matter what, so she demolished that. 

two good examples of morally gray characters are lada from And I Darken and adelina from The Young Elites.

i think the key to characters with gray morals is to make them believe that they’re doing the right thing, even if it’s something that would ordinarily be bad. like in my current manuscript, my characters are facing a conundrum of how to rescue everyday people from the creatures that have taken over their bodies. (i realize it’s another possession thing, but bc i’m aware of what makes a good story, my anthropomorphic creatures have personalities, families, faces and names, and my characters begin to form a connection to them after some defect. ahem. moving on.) the way my characters come up with is a poison that should kill the creatures but leave the humans they’re possessing unharmed. 

“It doesn’t killhumans, the poison,” Theo explained, cheeks still bright red as he avoidedlooking right at Valerie, “but we had one human lose their eyesight when poisonhit their face and another one vomit blood after they’d inhaled some of it.This was after we’d removed their hearts, too, so Zombies aren’t immune. Itdoesn’t happen every time, but we figure it’s better to be safe than sorry.” 

what do you do with humans whose souls (yes souls exist in this world) have been removed, leaving just the meatsuit behind? are those bodies worth saving? it dabbles with desecrating the dead. but if this is the only way to kill creatures possessing humans, what else can you do? 

“Yeah,” Soren said and startedclicking through the pictures. “Four other mass possessions happened last night. Four!”

Cam hummed, mouth full.

“Do we have drones?”

“Why do we needdrones?”

“I can rig up a way todump mass quantities of powder on the Creatures.”

“The powder is onlytemporary, though.”

“I’ll add pesticides toit. They can die from gunshots, so poison should work, too.”

“Not if they’re inhuman bodies, though.” Cam cut a potato in half with his spoon. “Theo is stillreading through the manuscript, but he found a clue Bash might’ve missed aboutCreatures in human bodies. Razzmatazz said they were weaker the longer theystayed on Earth, which is why they could be killed by things like bullets. But Theorealized that the weakness exists because Creatures must use mass quantities ofthe magic they contain to filter the gasses in our atmosphere. Those gasses areharmless to humans here on Earth, so Creatures possess humans and suddenly alltheir magic is free to be used however they please.”

Soren gaped at him,mind reeling. Cam used his index finger to push Soren’s mouth shut, then lookedback to his iPod. Maroon 5 started blasting, but Soren barely heard it.

“Motherfucker fuckingfuck,” he repeated. “That’s gotta be why their bodies literally melted afterthey possessed the humans.”

“Mm, good point.”

see the conundrum? what do you do when harming human bodies is the only way to save the world? 

anyway, this is long enough. this is a great article with a ton of external links that offer more advice on writing morally gray characters. but hopefully i cleared things up? like i said, i’m still learning how to write morally gray characters bc it’s such a difficult balance to achieve, but this ms and my next are both chock-full of morally gray narrators bc i want to learn how to write them. practice makes perfect, after all. 😏

[jamest-kirk]

I really loved the "spice up those coffee shop AUs" you reblogged, I could just see every single situation with mckirk. I couldn't choose a favourite so could you please pick one that you like the most and do your magic? Also, I just wanted to say that you're very beautiful inside and out.

Based on this. Kind of? It went a different direction fairly quickly.

Owning a coffee shop is hard work, okay? Harder than Bones thought. His shop runs fine, he has enough customers on a daily base to run a decent profit each month, but it’s not all grinding coffee beans, making fancy cappuccinos, and smiling gently at guests. The latter is not Bones’ thing to begin with, but he has employees for that. And co-owner Uhura, who spends more time in front of the shop than in the little office for their paperwork. But then Uhura leaves on a honeymoon with Spock, and Bones suddenly has to stand behind that counter, pretending to know what he’s doing.

And Bones can make a good coffee, maybe among the best coffees, but his cappuccinos don’t look so great, and the professional foam machine has been broken since forever. The other employees don’t have any problems making fancy foam and cute little art with chocolate powder or whatever. “Dude,” Jim says, a hand on Bones’ shoulder, “I’m sorry, but those cappuccinos look like shit.” “Excuse me?” Bones asks, and Jim raises an eyebrow. “You heard me,” he replies. Who does this Jim even think he is? Obviously he has no idea Bones is actually the owner of this place, but somehow, Bones doesn’t mind that as much. “Oh, really?” Bones asks, “taste it.” “I’m not tasting that, it looks like the saddest cappuccino I’ve ever seen.” “Try it,” Bones persists, and Jim glances at him suspiciously, but then reaches out and takes a sip. “Okay,” he says, “that tastes pretty good-” “I told you.” “- but look at it! These hipsters demand not just great coffee, but also aesthetics.” Bones groans at that, and Jim laughs. “I agree, but they buy most of our coffee.” “Fine,” Bones says, “if you can spare a minute or two after your shift’s over, show me how to do it.”

Bones knows how to work the espresso machine, but for some reason, he’s happy to pretend he doesn’t just to have Jim explain it to him. "How long have you worked here?“ Jim asks, and Bones shrugs as an answer. “How long have you?” He counters. “A year, almost,” Jim says. “And you have no aspirations to look for something more… challenging?” Bones asks. “I’m trying to teach you how to make beautiful coffee,” Jim replies, “and for some reason, that proves to be rather challenging.” “Screw you,” Bones says, though with a small grin, and Jim laughs. “Maybe after you make me a beautiful coffee.”

Turns out, Jim actually has an astrophysics degree. It’s something he casually mentions one afternoon when it’s quiet, and he’s overseeing Bones making a coffee. “You have a- and you work here? Jesus, Jim.” “What?” Jim asks, “I like working here.” “But you could work for NASA!” “I can also make great coffees,” Jim replies, “and, you know, fail horribly at teaching you to make ones that look half decent. How can yours taste so great but look awful?” “That’s just who I am,” Bones says, and Jim laughs. “No, you look pretty great.”

“Bones, seriously, I’m worried that Uhura’s gonna get you fired if you keep making coffees looking as sorry as these,” Jim says, and Bones laughs. “I’m not gonna get fired,” he says. “I hope not,” Jim replies, “that would be a waste.” Truthfully, Bones practiced at home. He knows how to make those coffees the way Jim wants to see them. But there is something so nice about pretending to be clueless and maybe a little clumsy. To watch Jim sigh and smile and teach him again. Perhaps Bones is also purposely trying out Jim’s patience, because there’s gotta be something underneath that everlasting patience. Jim shouldn’t be patient. Had Bones not been the owner of this place, surely he’d be fired already.

The flirting is great, though. Jim isn’t shy at all, casually flirts along when Bones suggests Jim teaches him after office hours. He sees Jim’s lips curl into a smile when Bones’ hand briefly rests on Jim’s lower back as he passes him while helping a customer. He feels Jim’s hand on his arm to stop him from making “a mistake”, and his hand lingers even after Bones has corrected himself. And Bones tells himself nothing could ever happen between the two of them, because surely Jim’s more interested in the younger girls and guys who come in and ask for coffees. He must have someone at home waiting for him; being the bright, generous, and ridiculously good looking guy he is. So flirting is safe, and it’s fun, because nothing’s ever going to come of it.

The two of them are cleaning up after hours when Uhura returns. “Nyota,” Bones says, smiling at her as she walks in and pulls him into a quick hug, “how was your trip?” “Great. How was working in the shop, instead of running it in the background?” She asks, and Bones shrugs. “Manageable. Barely, but still.” “I don’t doubt Jim’s been a good help,” she says, nodding towards the other, who looks at Bones in disbelief. Bones throws him a small smile, and offers a simple shrug. Well, there goes that bit of fun. “Can you make me a coffee?” Uhura asks, and Bones nods. Doesn’t even think twice about it, and just makes Uhura a decent cappuccino.

"You lied to me,” Jim says, catching Bones when the other walks home. “What- have you been following me?” “Yes,” Jim says, “why didn’t you tell me?” “Okay, I’m co-owner,” Bones says. “Not that,” Jim replies, “I mean that you can actually make good looking coffees instead of that shit you produce around me.” “I was… testing your patience.” “Bullshit,” Jim replies, and Bones raises an eyebrow. “Okay,” Bones says, “I liked the way you taught me. And I enjoyed our… banter.” “Banter?” Jim repeats, “you mean the flirting?” “If you want to call it that,” Bones replies. “I do,” Jim says, “were you ever going to follow up on that flirting, or what?” “Were you?” Bones counters, and Jim frowns. “I was. I don’t know if we can do that, considering you’re my boss, but… I was going to ask you out, once you got your coffee right.” Bones laughs at that, and Jim narrows his eyes. “I don’t know if we can go through with that, though. Our relationship is build on a lie,” he says dramatically, and this time, they both laugh.

"I still want to go on a date with you," Jim says eventually, when they cross the park that leads towards Bones' home. Why Jim's still walking with him is beyond him, but Bones isn't quite stopping Jim either. "I never realized you were so serious about the flirting," Bones says. "Of course I was," Jim replies, "you weren't?" "I mean, I never thought anything was going to happen," Bones says, "not that I mind if it would, but you're allround amazing, and I'm... I mean, I'm a divorced father who owns a coffee shop. You're an astrophysicist. How does that even-" Jim leans in, kissing him to shut him up, and it's something Bones readily accepts. Jim's arms around his shoulders, his own arms find their way around Jim's waist, keeping the other close. "Go out on a date with me," Jim says when he pulls away. "Okay," Bones says, out of breath, "I know a great coffee place."

[to-the-captain]

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You both like severich, and mormor.

You: Ever since Sebastian Moran had wrapped his jacket around the infamous James Moriarty, his life had changed drastically. Naturally, it doesn’t seem like an action with enough impact to cause such an extreme change. But considering that the sniper had desperately tried to keep a corpse on a rooftop from cooling out too much - Jim hated being cold, he hated it, despised it, don’t let him freeze - the scenario does get a slightly different touch. Shortly after the fatal shot had rang through London, highly trained men from the MI5 had dragged Sebastian away from his boss’ body, not being met by much resistance from the sobbing blonde. It was the start for his life in hell. Without any kind of trial, Moran had been thrown into a cell which only consisted of white, white walls, white ceiling and white floor, and a steel toiled. That was it. It always was bright around him, blinding him, depriving him of sleep. Every two days, someone dragged his weakened body - food seemed to be luxury - out of his prison for ‘interrogation’. Despite the deep wounds that it left, the infections growing on his back and the broken bones, Sebastian never once uttered a word about the empire, didn’t even say Jim’s name out loud, always the loyal soldier. Still, it was slowly getting harder to stay strong, he was starting to hallucinate and wanted nothing more than to just utter that name that meant the world to him, just one more time.

Stranger: [Reading :) ]

Stranger: [Oh this is a good one, kudos!]

You: [Thank you :) ]

Stranger: The white walls were quiet, the room quiet, everything deafeningly silent. It had gone on for some time, for longer than Sebastian really had a grasp on. Far longer. They didn't trust him with a blade, so he was only ever held down, buzzed along his jaw by an electric razor. He was given some amenities every so often; toilet paper, if he behaved. Baby powder to freshen up with. Once a week, he was dragged to be hosed down with cold water. It was cruelty in the most base sense... but how long had it actually been going on? There was no clock, no window. The days had passed far quicker than the sniper realized. A doctor walked in, nodding away one of the guards. He was in a striking white coat that matched the walls, and kept his head down as he stood. "They're clearing you for release," the man said, "A psychological evaluation was required." The man pushed glasses up on his pale nose, his hair a mess and pushed about. He clicked his tongue, his accent German, and he spoke very sharply. "You will answer my questions, in order. What is your name? Where were you born? What is your profession?" The doctor tapped his clipboard with his pen, brown eyes watching through the glasses at the man crumbled on the floor.

You: Since there was no bed or any other kind of furniture in his cell, Sebastian was curled up on the floor of it, trying to keep warm. The day before had been interrogation day, so he was simply trying to think of anything else but the pain running through his body. Without anything to focus on but white, it was difficult though. Maybe he would get some food at least, that would be quite nice. The sniper had become rather catatonic over the time, not caring about anything, answering whatever was thrown at him with one word or not at all, not even turning around or getting up as he heard light, controlled footsteps approaching his cell. Whatever. It didn’t matter anymore. Even dying was impossible, since the guards seemed to have the order not to let him - whatever he had tried, they hadn’t shot him, and as he had refused to eat they had force-fed him. Maybe they were waiting for him to start spilling information, but Sebastian was determined to let them wait forever, if necessary. Or until the infected wounds all over his body would lead to blood poisoning. Whatever would come first.

You: [That was not supposed to send]

Stranger: [You're fine! :) ]

You: Since there was no bed or any other kind of furniture in his cell, Sebastian was curled up on the floor of it, trying to keep warm. The day before had been interrogation day, so he was simply trying to think of anything else but the pain running through his body. Without anything to focus on but white, it was difficult though. Maybe he would get some food at least, that would be quite nice. The sniper had become rather catatonic over the time, not caring about anything, answering whatever was thrown at him with one word or not at all, not even turning around or getting up as he heard light, controlled footsteps approaching his cell. Whatever. It didn’t matter anymore. Even dying was impossible, since the guards seemed to have the order not to let him - whatever he had tried, they hadn’t shot him, and as he had refused to eat they had force-fed him. Maybe they were waiting for him to start spilling information, but Sebastian was determined to let them wait forever, if necessary. Or until the infected wounds all over his body would lead to blood poisoning. Whatever would come first. When someone entered his cell, Sebastian didn't even bother moving or opening his eyes. Why would he? It didn't matter anymore. Nothing did. However, he did perk up a little when he heard the word 'release' - before he realised that it probably was just another way to get him to talk. Another kind of torture, one that didn't leave visible scars. Still, the fear of further punishments let him play along for that moment. "Sebastian." A pause. "Augustus Moran." Another pause. Speaking was exhausting. "Germany." Coming up with the city was too much of an effort, in that moment. "Soldier." Once a soldier, always a soldier.

Stranger: The doctor walked slowly into the room, and around the man on the floor. His gloved hand held a pen that he clicked. Click. Click. Click. Click. There was a rustle of fabric, of him moving to look down at Sebastian's back. Bony, open wounds oozing. There was a snap of plastic as the joint of the pen broke in the doctor's hand. He stood straight, and pushed his glasses up once more on his nose, licking his back teeth. He didn't even mark down anything to Sebastian's answers - it was irrelevant. But he heard them, loud and clear. They hadn't broken Sebastian. They hadn't, and the doctor spoke with his accent just as thick as before. "You have numerous injuries. You were interrogated rather violently... dragged, beaten." The man was nearly grinding his teeth, and he spoke a bit more quietly, "But you haven't forgotten who you are, have you?" A pause. "Tiger." The man in the doctor's coat moved to kneel by the man on the floor, and reached inside of his coat. He drew out a tube, some kind of ointment. There was silence, then, as he opened it, as he began lathering the cream onto the sores. They weren't clean, but infection needed to be fought immediately. There was a pause. "Can you stand at all?" and the voice, oh, the voice. It wasn't German, it wasn't at all. It had a roll to it, a lilt, and he spoke in a rushed, hurried tone, "We have six minutes, nineteen seconds from now."

You: It had been ages, lifetimes, since he had heard that nickname rolling over those lips the last time. Sometimes, the hallucinations would talk to him, they would call him Tiger, but they would spit the word at him, yell at him for being so stupid, so weak, so useless. For destroying it all, ruining whatever Jim had bothered to set up over all those years. They were right, they all were. It was all true, everything they said. But this time, the word was spoken so softly, a whisper, barely there. It was the most beautiful thing he could have imagined hearing. "Kitten," Sebastian replied quietly, opening his eyes slowly, one clouded over, the other one fixed on the blurry mess that seemed to kneel in front of him. There were tears blurring his vision, making it hard to figure out what exactly was going on. Still, he understood - Jim was there, finally, to take him away. It was over. They'd won. He was going to join his Jim in hell before losing a single word about him or his work. The sniper didn't know what had tipped his body over the edge of finally giving up, maybe the hot water they had poured him over him the day prior, maybe the infections had finally caught up to his entire system. Not that it mattered. At the question though, the small smile that had pulled at Sebastian's lips faded a little. He knew that he couldn't stand let alone walk, but he was afraid of voicing his thought, afraid that Jim would just leave him there if he disappointed him again. So, he wordlessly began to move, stubborn, whimpering quietly as his skin was pulled over his gaunt form. He made it to his hands and knees before he had to admit defeat. It wouldn't work. "No..." Panic was rising within him. "I'm sorry, please.." A fucking disappointment, that was all he was.

Stranger: It wasn't the sniper's body that Jim had worried about. Moran was injured, of course he was, nearly beyond repair. Nearly. The coat was pulled off quickly, and the criminal, himself, was thin. He looked nearly ghostly, and it seemed that the separation of the two had only earned suffering for them both. James heard the pleading tone, the crack in Moran's voice that sounded like lightning, and he shook his head. "I know. I know, with their drugs and their tubes and their..." he trailed off, and shook his head. Sebastian was so close, so close to giving up. Another day, and Jim may have lost him... and still may. The coat was put over Sebastian's shoulders, against his sore-ridden back, to cover it from any more damage, and the smaller man moved quickly to Sebastian's side. He slipped beneath Sebastian's arm, and with a rush of adrenaline - of whatever filled him - he forced the other up to his feet. "Lean," he ordered, "Just lean. We have nineteen steps to the lift, and my men are causing a scene upstairs. We'll rush the edge of the room, and towards the emergency exit." A grinding of his teeth wasn't from Sebastian's heaviness, but his lightness. He was skin and bones, and Moriarty looked up at him from beneath his arm, "Walk. Now, or so help me, we're both going to die in here."

You: All Sebastian could do was scream when he suddenly found his position to be changed. His left foot hung awkwardly from his leg, obviously not made for stepping on it anymore, so all his weight rested on his right side, his shoulder strangely twisted now that he had Jim positioned underneath it. Was this just another guard, was he just imagining Jim over the other, real person? Were they just going to drag him away again, try to force information out of him? Interrogation wasn’t too long ago, this had to be a mistake, this couldn't be correct. His skin had only just began to peal properly from the hot water. It took a few moments until he understood what he was supposed to do, that he wouldn't be dragged around but would have to use the other person as a crutch and probably hobble along. It seemed ridiculous, impossible, and yet - there was something within Sebastian, something that needed to make up for being so stupid, for ruining everything, something that still yearned for forgiveness. So, the blond began to move, only letting out the most quiet whimpers as he tried to keep up with the consultant. It didn't matter that he didn't understand, it was over. All of it, it was over. It had to be.

You: [Gotta get the laundry out of the tumble dryer, should take less than ten minutes]

Stranger: [Awesome! In case we get disconnected, I am superdunngirl@gmail.com - my heart is in this already, I'm sorry to say, and if something happens I would like to continue.]

Stranger: Oh, he knew Sebastian's boundaries. He knew when the man had reached his brink, and it took everything in Jim not to let his wild and uncontrolled emotions run through him. His eyes felt hot, but not wet, because they had to get to safety. He had to get the man from the room. It... it was the least he could do. Jim couldn't think of this all as being his fault, not then, not with Sebastian against him, limping along, bones grinding and body weak. Jim's eyes were set ahead, and he spoke clearly, but softly, "If you can't make it, you tell me, and I'll drag you out of here. The coat is long enough to support you like a gurney, and I'll -drag- you, Sebastian, if I have to." Jim took a sharp breath and looked up at the other as they left the cell. In the observation room outside of the cell, where the cameras showed the interior, the two men at the desk were sitting, slumped over the keys and dials with sharp, single slits in their necks, that had severed their spine in a quick jab. Jim had gotten his hands dirty - things had indeed changed. And Jim was prepared to put Moran out of his misery, if the man hadn't answered the questions correctly. If he had lost his mind. Jim pulled Moran softly towards the metal lift, where he absorbed most of the shock of the walking with well-placed presses of his hip against Sebastian's, keeping the man from having to put too much weight on his weak legs. Jim jutted his elbow out, and the lift had a small delay, before pinging. He was nearly trembling from anger. It was his fault, -your fault, you bastard, look at what you've done to him, this is your hand, this is your hand-. Jim shook his head quickly to push the thought out, and helped Moran into the lift, leaning him to the wall to give him something else to grasp onto. Jim licked his lips, and hit one of the cryptic buttons on the panel, as they started to go up. "I will drag you," he said again, trying to keep himself steady, "if I have to. I'm not leaving you here."

You: With every step the pair took, Sebastian left a little mark consisting of blood and puss on the floor, probably showing the next guard that happened to trot along exactly what had happened. They'd all know, soon, about the consultant's brilliance, about how someone had removed one of the most important prisoners from the highest security facility the British government used. Oh, how angry Holmes would be about that, how brilliantly angry it would make him. Naturally, making Holmes angry was not the content of any of the thoughts going through Sebastian's head. Most of them consisted of him trying to muster up enough energy for the next step, with some being preoccupied with making sure he wouldn't pass out on the spot. Had to be good, had to make Jim happy, had to make up for being a disappointment. Only then, Jim would take him to hell with him. Once he found himself leaning against the cold metal wall of the elevator, trying his best not to slip down at it, he couldn't help but spend his time staring at the man in front of him. It did look like the pictures of Jim his memory supplied, maybe a bit slimmer and a bit more tired, but the man did resemble his Jim a lot. "I'm sorry," he repeated, quietly, not sure if he had got a reaction the first time. "I tried..." It was all he could say, all he could offer to make it okay. He'd tried, he'd lasted a long time before giving up.

You: [If we do get disconnected, I will definitely email you c: ]

Stranger: [*YAY*]

Stranger: The man who held Sebastian steady looked up into his eyes. His eye... one was so clouded. Jim's mind rattled through the damage Sebastian had taken, bringing it into his mind as inventory. He would file it in order of most important to least. Blood flow, respiration, the basics were the most vital. The blood loss was worrisome, but Jim had a plan. He always had a plan, didn't he? Just outside of the loading dock, away from the emergency exit on the filing floor for papers and things of the like, there was a sprinter van. Inside, a mobile critical care setup. Damn it, he just had to get Sebastian there, and he knew the man's energy was fast-depleting. Jim shook his head. "You didn't try, Sebastian. You succeeded. They took you before I could..." he trailed off, and bit his lips together, "They took you, and it's taken so long, and you know, Moran, you know -" Ding. The doors opened, and it was a bar brawl. Planted workers from Jim's dwindled empire were causing a ruckus with the other workers on the floor, so much so that they didn't even notice the elevator opening. It was such a short journey, so simple, but it had been too difficult to get into. Jim knew he couldn't walk that fast with Sebastian, so he gently pulled the coat from Moran's back, and stepped out. "Lie down," he said, looking at the tile floor. The fabric would slide easily, and he pushed his dress shirt sleeves up quickly, "It's okay, it will keep you from any stray bullets, and sight. Go on," he nodded, kneeling, and cupping the coat's neck in his hands for a good grip.

You: Suddenly, an assortment of loud noises assaulted Sebastian's ears, making him flinch immediately as the doors opened. What the fuck was going on? It had been so quiet, always so quiet, and now it sounded like he had just fallen onto a battlefield back in Afghanistan, back in the desert. It made his entire body tense up, freeze in place, his pain forgotten for that short moment of shock. It took valuable seconds before he realised that he was being addressed, that Jim was giving orders and was trying to reassure him. Lie down? Funny. So many ridiculous requests today. What was next, a fucking handstand? Of course, Sebastian began moving without as much of a word of complaining, still out to please the Irishman, should it cost him his life or not. The process of lying down definitely wasn't easy, and the movements certainly weren't graceful in any kind of sense, but eventually, Sebastian managed to lie on the coat, again lying on his side to spare his back as much as possible. The loud noises were still happening around him, they seemed to get louder as the world moved around him, scaring him, making him close his eyes in an attempt to block out as much as possible. "Kitten..." Was Jim still there? He didn't know, he couldn't be sure, couldn't be sure this was the way to hell. Why was death so fucking loud? Why was it so straining to get there?

Stranger: The sound of gunfire went off, a pistol - its owner quickly meeting a fist to the face to put him down from one of Jim's own employees. One of the very special employees, who Jim had found after all that time. One of Moran's own men, who had worked with him as a sniper for the web. It was a suicide mission going in, Jim knew, but he had to try. He had to try. Jim only flinched, when he realized where the bullet had landed, jerking a bit and looking to his arm as red blossomed on the white dress shirt, blooming like some lovely red rose. He snarled, not even caring, not even feeling it, in the heat of all that was happening. He'd heard the noise from Sebastian, and Jim stayed low. He squatted in place, and took steps backward, tugging Sebastian along the tile. The Irishman may have been slimmer, but he held more strength than before; the adrenaline helping the course. He moved along the edge of the room, quickly pulling and tugging the man on the durable coat, and Jim was glad he'd gotten an ankle-length size. Sebastian was curled so innocently, and Jim's heart slammed in his chest like never before. He had to get him out, he had to get him out. The loading dock had been the facility's weak spot - guards easily bought and cameras easily shut off. The sliding had gone quicker than if they had walked, and safer, for the tiger. Jim fumbled to his pocket, taking out a card and swiping it on the black box by the door that lead towards the loading dock, and was grateful when the green light flashed and door clicked. He could have kissed the keycard, and he pushed the door open with his back, tugging Moran along less-friendly flooring, but still smooth. "Just a bit more, Tiger," Jim was wheezing his breaths, already dripping sweat from it all, and there it was. The gorgeous sprinter van, doors opening by a woman and male, who joined Jim quickly. "The explosion," Jim wheezed, as they hoisted Moran up with the coat like an old-fashioned gurney, and carried him towards the sprinter van. The explosion. They had to get out, and get out then.

You: [Ankle length lab coats really suck haha] The noises faded out eventually, replaced by a cool nothingness, soft wind blowing over his abused skin. he man hadn’t been outside in all that time, it was the first time smelling fresh air and hearing all those.. normal noises, which simply occurred if you stepped outside. Birds, cars, the wind… It was overwhelming for the traumatised blonde. If he could have, he'd have looked around, had touched the grass and felt the sun on his skin - Sebastian had always been a type for warmer climates - but he couldn't, he could barely grasp that he was outside before he was being shoved into a small space, the back of a car, and put onto a stretcher. There were more people, voices shouting and whispering around him, demanding needles and IV bags and water, water for fuck's sake!, but none of that let him lose the sight he had set on his kitten. There was blood on his sleeve, he realised after a while, using whatever energy he had left to reach out an arm towards the area where the shirt had gained its new, scarlet colour. "No..." That wasn't right, Jim wasn't supposed to be hurt, he was the one who pulled the strings in the background, he had men for the dirty work, he had Sebastian who'd give his life for him. This was not right.

Stranger: [Oh thank goodness I only had to wear them for clinical hours!] Poor Sebastian's hand had been grasped by one of the two medics, testing for veins. He was so dehydrated that they found difficulty getting an IV in him, but the fluids ran at their max once the needle found a bed. The two were going back and forth so mechanically, and only paused for a moment as the car was driving casually from the building, and a very hollow sound of thunder was heard. Thunder, on a clear day, and Jim didn't even move, seated with his back to the metal and his head tipped back, eyes shut. That goddamn facility then had a large, gaping hole in its side. What few men Jim had who he trusted were gone, but they had done so willingly. It was a valiant sacrifice, and Jim heard Sebastian whisper his word, tipping his head back and looking at the tiger, moving only softly every few moments from the sprinter van turning corners. Jim reached out to take the IV hand Sebastian had reached with, and held it with cold fingers, nodding to him. "It's alright," Jim said so softly, so much that his voice was barely heard. The medic immediately hoisted up a larger bag of TPN, and the milky fluid began running into Sebastian's veins. Jim watched it, breathing softly as they began driving down the wonderful M4, lost among the sea of cars. He licked his lips, eyes staying on those hollow ones of Moran, and he just stayed quiet as the medics worked. He was quiet, for then, because he would talk later, when they were alone. When Jim could apologize.

You: [Thank god mine's only knee length] The solider didn't even care for what the two medics were doing around him, barely felt their touches, more than used to people prodding and poking at him after what he had been through. No, all he cared for was the blood slowly drying into expensive white cotton, his worry only interrupted by the loud sound of the explosion he couldn't identify properly. His anxiety didn't last long; if Jim didn't seem panicked it had to be all right. It was warm in the car, warmer than anything Sebastian had felt in ages, and yet he was shivering lightly. The adrenaline, the exhaustion and the shock were all slowly building up, wearing his body and mind down. He tried to hold onto Jim's hand as tightly as possible, his fingers crooked lightly but he didn't care. Holding onto the Irishman was all that mattered, holding onto him until this hallucination, this dream, this way to hell, until it ended and Jim would disappear again. Who knew when he'd see him again? "Need to take better care, Kitten." Even then, he refused to use Jim's real name, having trained himself to not even consider it, even when he was drugged up or after a 48 hours torture session. No, those three letters were too important to bring them over his lips in case anyone was listening. The warmth and the soft movements of the van eventually managed to lull Sebastian in, his eyelids fighting his wish to keep being awake and alert. It was a hopeless battle, a fight he couldn't win, so he eventually slipped into unconsciousness, still holding onto Jim's hand.

Stranger: Cambridge was safe. It was safe, because Jim had made it safe. The CCTV cameras had been controlled, stilled in their movements for only blinks of the eye while the van made its way from London. And Jim, electronic resources depleted, relied on the driver to take them where they had to go. All the while, the criminal kept his hand holding Sebastian's, the medics not even giving it a second glance. Their focus was on 'More TPN,' 'Back fluids fluids down, can't bring him up too quick,' and, 'Get the oxygen ready, set it to 4, use the non-rebreather.' Jim didn't hear them, after a while, simply watching Sebastian's face. He'd missed it. God, he'd missed it. Even in the shape it was in, as gaunt as the other was, he was still the criminal's tiger. He was worn and his stripes grey, but he was still that tiger. And he was still that tiger, resting in a large bed. With IV poles at the bedside, and a monitor watching every move of his heart, he was still Sebastian. And Jim had stayed by the other's side, even as the hours passed, even as they had gotten the soldier to the safehouse in Cambridge. Even as they had gently taken him inside, gotten him safe, Jim was there, helping the others. He'd swatted away their requests to tend to his arm, until he was sure Sebastian was stable. The night had come, and the cool spring air blew in through the window Jim had opened. Moran's wounds dressed, the criminal felt as though he could rest, finally. Real, peaceful rest. He sat upright in a chair by the open window, arms crossed - one bandaged - and his head ducked down in sleep in the glow of the moon from outside.

You: [I am so sorry to interrupt, but it's literally 5:50 am, and I should have been in bed an hour ago (was waiting for my laundry). That's kinda also the reason for why my replies are getting worse, being dead tired and not being a native speaker don't mix well. Do you want to continue this over email?]

Stranger: [OH GOSH!]

Stranger: [YES PLEASE BUT GO SLEEP I am SO Sorry!]

You: [Noo don't apologise, you're really awesome and I couldn't get myself to stop oops]

Stranger: [Oh gosh no you're really amazing and this is so great, your Seb just - I couldn't just let him go I'm sorry, I know it could have gone REALLY dark but - ]

Stranger: [Go sleep and I'm here if you want to continue - I really hope you would like to, this is fantastic]

You: [I shall email you as soon as I'm up again... the fucking sun is rising, I have a thesis to write and I suppose sleeping really is a good idea. Have a nice day/night, dear stranger c: ]

Stranger: [Goodnight dear!!]

You have disconnected.

[qualtinger]

I'm your mother

Let me tell you something, the meals here are unfit for humans. Yesterday my chicken sandwich had a fish head in it, and last night I found the tail of an animal in my potato salad. The food is going to kill me. Look how skinny I am. I’m just skin and bones. And my clothes hang off me like they took the drapes down from the window and put them around my shoulders. And every day is the same thing. You wake up. They dress you. They bring you down for breakfast. Then you go back to your room. You read a magazine. You watch some TV. You go to the bathroom. I went three times today. I sat on the toilet for 20 minutes and couldn’t get anything out. I was squeezing and squeezing, and then, finally, one little plop. You want to see it? Here, look. I have it in my purse. And sometimes people don't show up for breakfast, and you know they died that night, but no one says anything. I think the cooks are grinding up the bodies and serving them in the food, because last week I found shoelaces in the spaghetti, and Mrs. Biedemeir’s ear, with one of her earrings—a little cameo of a smiling cherub—in my salad. I know those earrings! And what they don’t mix in the food, they use for fertilizer. You can see the gardeners spreading the old people’s ground up powdery bones in the back yard. You think I’m making this up? No one could make this up. What did I do today? What do you think I did? What’s there to do here? These old people, their families put them in this place, they abandon them, they want to get rid of them. Oh—they visit, they talk, play cards—then they go away, and don’t come back for two weeks. In the olden days, when I was growing up in Europe, the old people were kept in the family. My grandmother had her own room in the house until the day she died at 104. Look, if your apartment isn’t big enough, we could get a larger place. I could live at one end and you could live at the other. You could get 24-hour nursing for me. They would change the diapers and do all those things you couldn’t. You don’t have enough room? Here, take this pillow and push it down on my face. I’ll lie on my back and make it easy for you. Then you can call the lawyer and the estate manager, and say a few words at the service, and everyone will feel sorry for you. They’ll think, “Oh, he’s so sad, he lost his mother. Oh, poor boy, now he’s an orphan.” Once I was a runway model. Look at these pictures. See how slender I was? I was a gorgeous woman. Then, after you were born, I was never able to resume my career, because I got stretch marks and horrible blue veins up and down my legs, and I gained 65 pounds. And when you sucked my breasts, it was so painful that sometimes I thought you were going to devour me, to eat me alive. You were like a little cannibal, and I had the feeling that if I didn’t control you, you would begin with my breasts, and end up with the stumps of my legs. But did I complain? Did I send you away? Did I lock you away in an asylum? No. I didn’t. And now look at what you’re doing to me! Is this what I get in return? You should have brought me here in a cattle car with old people piled on top each other. Why don’t we take a cruise? We could go to Japan and see the beautiful cherry blossoms, and I’d be wearing a silk kimono, and wooden sandals, and ivory chopsticks to hold my hair together, and the Japanese people would see us and say, “What a good boy, helping his mama san like that.” And we could go to the baths, where everybody’s naked, and they’d wash us with soap and oils… WHY NOT? I’m your mother. You came from my body. There’s no shame. I powdered your tuchus, and when I put oil on your scrotum, your little penis got so hard, it was like a tiny pencil. Okay, go home. Don’t waste any more of your time. I can see how you always open the window when you come in, as if you can’t stand the smell of an old woman’s body. So go. I’ll be fine. I can lie here and look at the wall. Joe Frank 3/10/17