#i knew i was gonna be emotional just given how i reacted to the graphic novel

[peregrine-rnendicant]

hi why did no one warn me that nimona was gonna make me full on sob

[maximons]

Without You

Summary: Everything seems to be going alright for Wanda Maximoff, but a mission gone horribly awry makes everything crash and burn.

Word Count: 3,101

Genre: Angst

Requested?: Yes

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, mentions of blood, burns, scarring

A/N: Alright kids, you ready for angst time? My first full out angst fic, oh boy. This ones got no happy ending guys, so do with that what you will. This takes place during Civil War, so spoilers...? I guess? I’d say Happy Reading, but I don’t think you guys will be that happy by the end of this sooo good luck!

Lagos.

That’s the place where everything in Wanda’s life fell apart. Or at least fell apart even further than it had before.

Some of the team were out on a mission. You guys finally managed to track down Rumlow and his gang after about a year of searching. Everything was going fairly well, yes there was some collateral damage, and things didn’t exactly go according to plan, but overall, it looked like you guys would come out of this with a win.

And then, it happened.

Wanda and you had begun to jog up to Steve’s location, where you saw him stare Rumlow down. Something in you just told you that this wasn’t going to go well. You looked at the scene in front of you, and then your gaze fell onto the building behind it. It was too close for comfort.

“Babe, I’m gonna go check that building.” You turned to your girlfriend. “Looks like there could be a lot of people in there, I’m gonna try to get them out.” She looked at you, and then to the building briefly. Part of her wanted to question why when the fight was happening out here, but she knew in your line of work things can be unpredictable.

She nodded. “Okay, be safe.” You nodded back with a small smile, and pecked her on the cheek.

“Always am.” With that, you ran off.

It was only about two or three minutes after you ran in when things went to hell.

Rumlow pulled a pin on his vest, and Wanda reacted as quickly as she could, capturing him mid explosion in her magic. She lifted him up, trying to get him as far away from the people below as possible, but she couldn’t hold it anymore. The explosion went off.

Blowing a huge hole into that building.

Wanda stood there, shocked for a moment over what just happened. Her hand came and slowly covered her mouth, mind going over all the damage she just caused. She vaguely heard Steve calling for fire and rescue, and then it hit her.

You were in there.

“Y/n...” She whispered, still in a state of shock, but she quickly snapped out of it and sprang into action. “Y/n!” She heard Steve yell for her to wait, but she didn’t care. She took off, flying up and landed in one of the building’s destroyed floors.

She did her best to ignore the carnage around her, carnage she caused. She pushed down the bile that was rising in her throat, and continued her search for you. 

And then she found you.

You were a super soldier, so luckily you didn’t die from the blast, she could still feel your pulse. But you didn’t look good.

You were lying on the charred floor, unconscious. Half of your suit was burned off, leaving nasty burns all on your arm and torso, some even creeping up your neck and face. Blood also dripped down from an open wound on your temple.

Wanda couldn’t bring herself to care about your appearance, though. You were still alive, and that’s the main thing she cared about right now.

“Don’t worry.” She sobbed out, hand gently caressing your unburned cheek. “You’re okay...you’re gonna be okay...” She tore her gaze away from you for a minute, and looked around. Tears falling at the sight of multiple bodies, people who weren’t as lucky as you.

People who were dead because of her.

“...I’m so sorry...”

The next week was chaos.

You were brought to the compound’s medical facility immediately, doctors working fast to try and save your life. They managed to stabilize you, now it was just a waiting game as to when you would wake up. Wanda would visit you everyday, barely being able to leave your side. Steve managed to convince her that she needed to rest, saying that you wouldn’t want to see her neglecting her needs. She hesitantly complied, and finally went to her room to sleep for the night.

The next morning, the news started reporting the incident.

And of course they blamed her.

Logically, Wanda knew this wasn’t entirely her fault. Rumlow was the one who turned himself into a bomb. She was just trying to save the lives below. That thought brought her little comfort though.

She was still responsible for the lives lost in that building. She was still responsible for you, the love of her life, being severely injured and in a coma.

Maybe they were right.

Steve didn’t let her wallow in that thought for too long though, because he shut the TV off. He sat down and gave her one of his hope speeches, and she appreciated the effort, but she didn’t want to hear it.

“It’s my fault.” She whispered. “All of those people, dead because of me...and Y/n...” She trailed off, tears forming in her eyes. Steve placed a hand on her leg, trying to comfort her.

“You know...she doesn’t blame you, I know she doesn’t.”

“Maybe she should...they all should.”

Steve couldn’t get anything else out, as Vision phased in the room and told them of the arrival of Secretary Ross.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, he had told them about the Sokovia Accords. Wanda hated the idea, forcing heroes to register with the government, essentially making them puppets for them. She knew you would hate it too, you never were one to trust the government.

“Look, we understand where you’re coming from, but if it weren’t for us, there’d be a lot more blood spilled.” Sam argued.

“Tell that to the innocent civilians in that Lagos hospital building.” Ross argued back. “Oh wait, you can’t.”

“If it weren’t for Wanda, hundreds of people in the streets below would have been killed.” Steve cut in. “If it weren’t for Y/n, hundreds of more people would have been in that building.”

“And look where that landed her.”

Wanda had enough. She shot up from her chair, and stormed out of the room.

She went straight to your hospital room, your still unconscious body covered in bandages. She pulled up a chair beside your bed, hand going to grip yours. She tried to speak, but couldn’t bring herself to form the words. So she just rested her head on your joined hands and cried.

The next few weeks saw the Avengers falling apart, divided over the accords. Wanda was especially disappointed in Natasha’s decision, given that you two were best friends. 

Wanda hasn’t left the compound. Most of her time was spent visiting you and sleeping as best she could. Your burns had begun healing, but barely. They still left pretty nasty scars. Your breathing had improved, which satisfied the doctors. They had said you could wake up any moment now, Wanda just hoped it was soon.

The next day, Wanda walked into the kitchen to find Vision cooking. She found that odd, since she knew he didn’t eat, but he explained that he was making it for her. You used to cook for her a lot, and after a few disasters, you finally got the recipe down. Vision’s was no where near as good as yours, but she appreciates the effort.

After a conversation about their powers and their fear of them, Wanda volunteered to go to the store to pick up some paprika that would greatly help the dish. Vision stopped her.

“Vision...are you not letting me leave?”

“It’s a matter of safety.”

“I can handle myself.”

Vision stopped her again. “Not yours. Mr. Stark would like to avoid the possibility of another public incident.”

Wanda looked at the synthezoid in disbelief. “I’m not an out of control time bomb. It was an accident.”

“I know. I do, but...you powers are very unpredictable. You are also...vulnerable. My scanners have indicated you are, how you say, ‘on edge’. You have been ever since Miss L/n was admitted in the medical wing.”

Wanda’s gaze turned into a harsh glare. “I know that human emotion is a foreign concept to you Vision, but trust me, if your girlfriend was ever put in a coma because of you...being ‘on edge’ is the least you would be.”

Without waiting for a response, Wanda turned around and stormed off. She headed to the one place that her feet often dragged her to the last weeks. Your bedside. 

She sat and took a hold of your hand. She stared at you for a moment before she spoke. “Hey, baby. Things have been...hard without you to say the least. Not that this wouldn’t be hard anyway, but everything is falling apart. These stupid accords are ruining everything. Tony has become a government pet, Nat joining him, Steve is off doing who knows what, and now...I’m locked in.” She paused. “You know, as much as I wish more than anything that you were awake and by my side right now...part of me is glad that you wouldn’t have to see your family fall apart like this. It’d break your heart...” She stayed for a few more moments, staring at your face and taking in your features once again. She then leaned down to kiss your hand. “I love you.” With that, she left.

Later that night, Wanda was back in the main room of the compound. You still haven’t woken up, she just learned she was essentially on house arrest, so she was trying to find ways to find ways to distract herself. She was reading a book, when she heard a loud explosion go off outside. She walked over to the window to take a look, Vision joining her a few moments later.

“What is it?”

“Stay here please.”

Wanda was left alone for a moment, before she felt a presence behind her. She quickly grabbed hold of the knife on the table, and flinging it towards the new presence. She halted it when she saw who it was.

Clint.

The next few minutes passed by like a blur. Clint was convincing her to come help Steve, Vision came back in but was trapped, Wanda hesitated and Clint gave her one of those hope speeches. She was about to decline, before he said one last thing.

“You know, if Y/n was awake...I know she’d side with Steve, and she’d only hope you’d do the same.”

Was it manipulative? Possibly, but he was also right. You would have sided with Steve, no question. Doing what you could to help. She thought on it for a few more moments, before she nodded. They were about to leave before Vision broke free. The two men fought, and before she knew it, she was sending the synthezoid several floors down and into the ground. 

She went to her room, quickly packing her suit and anything else she thought she would need. She went back out to meet Clint, about to leave, but she stopped.

“Wait! I gotta see Y/n first.” 

Clint sighed, but knew he couldn’t deny her of this. “Alright, make it quick.”

She booked it to your hospital room. You were lying there, same as you have been for a while. She quickly surged forward grabbed your hand, not bothering to sit. She knew they didn’t have time.

“Alright, baby. I’m gonna go out for a bit, okay? I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but...I’m going to do what’s right. I’m going to fight. I finally ‘got off my ass’ as you would say.” She chuckled, but it held no real joy behind it. “I just hope you’d be proud of me...and I just hope that I can come back to see you-”

Wanda cut herself off when she felt you begin to move. All of a sudden your face shifted, and you began to turn your head. 

“Y/n?...”

You began to open your eyes slowly, head slowly lifting off your pillow. Your eyes looked around, trying to adjust to the brightness of the room. Before you could even look at Wanda though, you began coughing. 

Wanda rushed to poor you a glass of water, knowing your mouth would be dry from not using it for a while. She handed it to you, quickly, and you slowly raised your hand to take it. As you began to drink, Wanda couldn’t help but smile. You were finally awake. She was beyond relieved. She was put in a rough spot now, she knew she had to meet Clint so they could go, but...you were finally awake. She couldn’t leave you.

“Wanda, we gotta go!” She heard Clint yell, and without tearing her eyes away from you, she yelled back.

“In a minute! Y/n just woke up!”

She didn’t hear a response from the man, but she heard footsteps quickly making its way towards your room. 

You finished drinking your water and placed the cup on the bedside table. You began to try to sit up, but Wanda rushed to your side to help.

“Here you go, easy.”

When you fully sat up, you took in the appearance of the woman next to you. You smiled. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” She breathed out. You looked her in the eyes, smile still on both your faces. But, Wanda’s smile dropped instantly at the next words that came out of your mouth.

“Sorry, hi, I’m Y/n. You probably already knew that though.” You chuckled nervously. “Are you one of the nurses?”

Wanda froze. No. This couldn’t be happening. The doctors told her that Amnesia was a possibility since you hit your head on impact from the blast, but it never seemed like a real threat. She stared at you, jaw slacked for a few more moments.

“Um, hello?...Oh! Are you my doctor? Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume.”

Wanda snapped out of it when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned her head to see it was Clint. You spoke up again before she could say anything though.

“Oh, hey, are you a nurse? Or doctor?”

Realization filled Clint’s face, but he held it together. He simply shook his head.

“Oh...so, is someone supposed to help me or...?” You trailed off. 

Clint looked to Wanda, who was still in shock, tears beginning to form in her eyes. He knew he had to take over, get them out as soon as possible. “Sorry, Y/n. We’ll get your nurse to come and check on you. Glad to see you’re awake.” Before you could respond, he quickly rushed out of the room, pulling Wanda with him.

Wanda finally let herself break down, and cried in the van. She barely had time to process everything before they picked up a man name Scott and flew to the airport to meet Steve.

Steve broke down the plan and the team went separate ways to suit up and get in position. Except Wanda. Steve was about to go get himself ready, but paused when he saw the witch frozen in place.

“Wanda? You okay?” Wanda simply shook her head and looked up at him, he could see the tears in her eyes. “What happened?”

“Y/n woke up.”

Steve raised his eyebrows in shock. “She did? That’s great-” He was cut off when Wanda let out a sob. He then put two and two together, something was wrong. “...What was it?”

“She...doesn’t remember anything...doesn’t remember me...”

Steve sighed. He was saddened by the news as well, you and him were very close, both being super soldiers and all. He couldn’t even imagine what Wanda was going through in this moment though, so he put on a brave face. He went over to the witch and wrapped an arm around her. “Y/n is strong...when this is over, we’ll go see her and start-” Steve was cut off again when Wanda shook her head.

“Steve...you and I both know this isn’t gonna end with us just being able to go back...” She looked up at him. He was about to speak up again, when he heard Sam in his ear.

“Cap, Tony and Rhodey are flying in now. You good to go?” 

Steve looked to Wanda, knowing she heard him too since they all had coms. She nodded. “On my way.” He turned to leave, before giving Wanda one last look. “Whatever happens, it’ll be okay.”

It wasn’t.

The fight at the airport was beyond tiresome, and they lost. Steve and Bucky got away to handle the other Winter Soldiers, but the rest of the team was captured.

So now here she was, sitting in a cell in a high security prison in the middle of the ocean...with a straight jacket and shock collar on. Wanda couldn’t even be upset about it. She was numb. She’s already lost everything she possibly could. Her parents, her brother, her country, and now...you. She couldn’t bring herself to care whether or not she wasted away in this cell. Maybe she deserved to.

But of course, she couldn’t even have that for long, as Steve broke them out a few days later.

Up on the quinjet with Steve and the rest of the team, she sat alone, staring out the window watching the dark clouds pass by. After a few moments, she felt a presence next to her. She looked over to see who it was. Natasha.

“What are you doing here?” Wanda asked, looking back out the window. 

“It’s a long story.” She answered. “Steve told me what happened, I...I’m not even sure what to say. I am so sorry Wanda.” Wanda merely nodded, not trusting her voice right now. Natasha took a deep breath and continued. “Y’know...I can pull some strings, the ones I have left anyway. Get Y/n relocated to be with us. I know she doesn’t remember anything right now, but-”

“No.” Wanda cut her off, surprising the redhead.

“Wha...what do you mean ‘no’?”

Wanda had thought about it, she’s thought about it the entire time she was in the Raft. She would love nothing more than to see you again, to hold you and help you on your recovery, but...she couldn’t. She was a wanted fugitive now, and you were only in this predicament because of her...she had to be selfless here. She couldn’t bring you into this life, not when you were missing chunks of your own.

“I mean no.” She said, looking up into Natasha’s eyes, tears pooling in her own. “She’s better off.”

And with that, Wanda got up, walking towards the back of the jet to be alone. She took a deep breath, and prepared herself. Preparing herself for a new life as a fugitive on the run. And most importantly...

Preparing for a life without you.

[bonny-kookoo]

Nightlight (PJM x Reader) 💜☁️⚠️🔞👹  Chapter 1

Pairing: Demon!Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: Demon!AU, Angst, Possibly triggering content, Fluff/Romance, smut

Warnings: graphic description of violence, panic attacks, graphic description of certain fears and phobias, nightmares, blood, insects, accidents, death, it’s kinda messed up really, mild stalking, demon jimminie be kinda creepy ngl, confused jimin, intercourse with a demon (duh), restriction of movement, sleep paralysis, slight somnophilia, big dick!Jimin but wbk, marking, biting, scratching, Dom!Jimin, Sub!Reader, y’all I’m gonna go to hell for this smh, more to add as the story progresses

Summary: The nightlight he once gave you with a smile always kept the nightly terrors of his pale and lifeless face at bay, giving you at least mild comfort in a time spend without his soothing touch. But when you’re admitted to the hospital due to an accident, there is no light to keep your thoughts safe from terror. Luckily for you, the demon responsible for your vacation between hand sanitizer and itchy sheets actually feels bad for once; and decides to help you out.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part ?

Watching the clock tick away as every second passed didn't seem like a good hobby- yet it had become your main source of distraction nowadays.

Every moment you'd look at the clock, eyes focused on the small pointer going round after round was a reminder that the world didn't stop spinning even for a moment. That the world didn't care about someone's misery or happiness.

At his funeral, the sun had been shining too. The weather had been disgustingly nice, making birds sing their songs of gratitude in their trees, and children run in their home's yards, laughing away, unknowing of the tragedy that befell you and him. You remembered how hot it had been, how angry you've been- how could the world just continue on without any form of sadness for him?

He wasn't supposed to die so soon. You both just moved in together into a small apartment he'd rented after his work had given him a promotion, talked about maybe adopting a cat together, and started to think about settling down. Yet destiny had been cruel, taking him away from you just because it could. It had been two horrible changes of seasons since the day you had to watch him get buried six foot deep.

And you haven't been the same since.

Barely talking at all, simply existing as you buried yourself under the covers of your once shared bed, desperately trying to hold onto every scent, every trace that he'd been alive, but soon enough his body was just a mere memory, fading away like the scent on his shirts you wore at night to keep you sane.

The nightlight he'd bought you to help you with your insomnia and nightly terrors helped you a little- it felt like a small glimpse of hope in the corner of your room, no matter how childish it may seemed to the people around you. You'd long cut ties with former friends anyways, not wanting to be seen by anyone anymore.

You just wanted to be left alone.

Tiredly walking towards the stairs to get yourself a glass of water, you failed to notice the figure standing in your kitchen, eyeing the furniture and unwashed dishes in the sink with not much interest. He studied your form, pale and sad, as you simply shoved the ceramic plates a bit to make space so you could fill your glass up, uncaring of anything.

He was interested.

Humans like you, so broken and consumed by tragedy most of the time had the most delicious dreams he could think of- the deeply scarring emotions drowning your soul in heart wrenching thoughts and visions. He truly loved these- even though he preferred dreams of fear and terror.

As he followed you upstairs, silently, something inside him made him raise his eyebrow. He stopped at your bedroom door, hesitant, as if something was holding him back. Memories of a young couple playfully fighting played in front of him, two lovers falling into the bed, getting tangled in the sheets with feelings of euphoria- and he suddenly found himself at your bedside, watching you.

Your eyes suddenly opened, as you saw a figure looming over you, dark and menacing, its presence making the room feel stuffy and tight, as you could only watch, not move. Your body was frozen, not reacting to anything you told it, as the figure stepped closer, hands slowly creeping around your neck, increasing pressure as you heard it sigh out in pleasure. You could feel your fingers start to tingle, oxygen unable to enter your lungs, before you could suddenly breath again.

The figure yelped as if burned, falling back and pushing down the clock from your bedside table, breaking the glass front of it. You finally got up, scrambling out of bed in a hurry, tripping over your charging cable for your phone, before you stared at the shadowy figure in your room, breathing heavily.

It was hunched over, gasping for air itself as you slowly found a speck of pity in your heart, making you reach out your hand, as if to prove yourself that it was real.

Everything after was a blur, scenes happening too quickly to comprehend them properly inside your head.

A Hand pushed against your chest, the body moving, forcing you to walk backwards until he pushed with another boost of force- successfully making the glass of your window shatter, your body flying out of it, right into the rosebushes beneath your window, planted by your landlady to 'brighten up the visual appearance of the complex'.

The only thing you remembered after that was the pain and the shadow, making you close your eyes.

"Miss, are you awake?" The nurse asked, soft voice making you open your eyes. "Welcome back miss. You took quite the fall. Good thing someone found you." She said, checking your vitals as you simply stared ahead.

You weren't dead.

It should be something good, it should please you to know that you survived, but instead, it made your mouth taste stale, and your throat clog up. The nurse carried on, leaving the room after a moment. You knew she didn't care. She was only doing her job.

A look to the side told you that it was late- only some lights of other rooms of the hospital lighting up the outside, curtains pulled shut. It was dark in your room.

Too dark.

Your breathing increased as the shadows started to morph into heads, animals, and monsters; anything your mind could come up with. You could feel the bile raising in your throat, sour taste on your tongue making you swallow desperately, head whipping from left to right to find something to light the room up, but finding nothing. Your whimpers seemed to echo inside the room, making you feel awfully pathetic as you could only watch as the monsters- dissipated?

They vanished as a gentle glow flooded the room, originating from a figure behind the hospital curtains, shadow showing a seemingly male figure clad in unknown robes. You swallowed.

"Ah, the daughter of eve fears the dark?" He sing-songed, almost mockingly as the curtains moved a bit with the fresh air flowing into the room. You stared at him or more like his silhouette, as you whispered in a wavering voice.

"What are you?"

He chuckled, a breathy sound that didn't feel threatening. "Ah, she is smart however. She knows I am of a different kind." He said, voice low and rumbly, yet with an almost feminine tune to it. It reminded you of your lover, in a sense- yet his voice sounded nothing like his at the same time. "I am the fourth son of Rosier, a former Angel now residing in what you humans call hell." He stated, as if he was simply telling you how nice the weather would be tomorrow. So if he was the son of a fallen angel, was he-

"So you're.. a demon?" You asked, voice still almost only a whisper. He chuckled at your voice.

"Not quite, but it serves as a good definition for your kind. My heritage is quite.. difficult to explain, I'll admit." He mumbled, moving his head a little to the side. You couldn't make out his features at all, the only thing serving as a hint to his physique being the light accentuating his shadow.

"Why.. why are you here?" You asked, and he moved his arms a little, the sound of fabric moving the only noise for a moment.

"Ah, you really are smart. I usually hear the question of what I desire from someone- yet there is not really anything a human could offer to me I could have use of." He said with a humored undertone. He continued as you stayed silent. "I believe there has been an.. incident that should not have happened, and I am the one at fault."

"So you came to.. apologize?"

He clapped his hands, making you jump a little. "My my, why do you sound so surprised?" He asked, voice growing a bit more hostile. "I am not an angel full of itself because of its purity. My kind may be known to be quite tumultuous and.. unconventional, yet we do have our standards and pride." He said, leaning against the wall next to the window.

"I see." You simply said, and he didn't answer for a moment. You felt like you were being watched, observed even. You cleared your throat before asking. "Why.. why did you, you know.. throw me?"

He sighed. "I was not born with a body like your kind is. I have to.. lend or take one for myself." He said, and you nodded, unknowing if he could see you properly. It seemed like he did, because he took your gesture as a silent way of telling him to continue. "I have only recently acquired this body. For your standards of time, at least.Your planet spins faster in a year than my own world would consider a full change of seasons." He said.

"So you.. know what happened to him? Like.. the body's actual owner, I mean."

Running a hand through his hair, he answered you, though with mild hesitation in his tone. “Sometimes.. memories remain. What we do with them is up to us.” He said lowly, his voice so familiar, yet also nothing like a voice you’ve heard before in your lifetime. "He left this world with quite a dramatic final, I admit. I do not know details, however. He is.. keeping them from me. Which is fair, considering I did take without asking." Whoever was hiding behind those hospital curtains made your head spin in confusion, as you tried to pin point what exactly was happening.

There was a demon in your hospital room. Not only that, but this demon was drowning the entire room in a soft and gentle glow, prohibiting the natural shadows of all the furniture and items placed on their respective spots to turn into terrifying monsters ready to haunt your time of rest and healing. But for some reason his presence made your blood flow calmly in your veins, soft noises from the opened window making your eyelids close.

You could feel him come closer, notice how the mattress dipped a bit where he leaned to loom over you. “Rest. I’ll keep them away from you.” He murmured, a cool hand touching your forehead as you drifted off, not being able to catch the confused and frustrated face of the demon who was watching you.

How strong must this man have felt for you if even after his death he harbored those emotions inside those veins he’d decided to possess and claim as his own? His soul has long left this body, yet it seemed like pieces of him still remained, forcing its claws between his will, and leading him down a path he'd rather not take.

Sitting on a bench, only light a streetlamp illuminating the park around you, you finally felt alone. It may sound like this should be an upsetting feeling, but after a week of constant hovering of others, nurses and patients alike, it finally felt like you could breathe again. That was, until you felt a presence behind you.

"Do not lift your gaze." He said, as he walked around the bench to sit beside you, the only visible thing now his shoes up to his thighs, decorative and expensive robes in silvery and dark colors, accentuated with thin golden patterns. You admittedly expected something more.. cliche. Like a black suit, maybe. "You have yet to recover fully." He murmured, crossing his legs before resting his arms on the backrest of the bench. "Why did you leave?" He questioned, referring to your decision to leave the hospital against doctors advice.

You fiddled with your fingers, before sighing. "I couldn't take the lies and masks around me." You said, and he hummed.

"Ah, yes." he chuckled before he continued. "That nurse was quite.. envious of your bodily features, I've noticed. And one of the male patients had been quite fond of you as well." He said, and you raised your eyebrows, scoffing. He looked down at you, amused. "What? My kind cannot lie, if it makes my words more trustful for you." He said, and you chuckled.

"Well.." You started, before stretching your legs a little bit in front of you. "I'm not much to look at." You said, and he clicked his tongue.

"Hm.. Who is speaking untruthful now?" He said with humor in his tone. "You are quite visually pleasing to look at, if I may say so. I cannot imagine what you may look like without the draining burden of sorrow and hurt." He spoke, a hand carefully tracing a stray strand of hair, before you chuckled. The sound was good, he decided. He would make you laugh more.

"Thank you." You said, and he simply hummed a reply.

It was quiet for a moment, before you told him your name. He, again, only hummed a wordless reply.

"I'm afraid I cannot give you mine in exchange." He said, and you nodded, understanding.

You didn't need it anyways.

He slowly started to become a regular guest at your home. You had started to move away your lover's things as summer passed outside your windows, trying to mend your broken self together piece by piece with the Demon's help here and there. He distracted you when things got overwhelming, spending time with you and keeping you in touch with the world outside your walls. You had also started to work again. A simple job at a restaurant, washing dishes, nothing special. But it paid the bills, and it gave you something to do during the day.

A distraction, if you will.

This time when you came home however, his eyes widened at how you immediately fell to your knees, crying desperate tears into your hands. He didn't ask what happened, simply walking over to you, putting a hand on your head- a gesture he'd learned during his time with humans, a simple touch that was meant to bring comfort. Yet it also helped him to look into your thoughts, and see the situation that had occurred during your day at work, making his blood buzz inside his veins.

He could see how you were working, not participating in the chatter of the cooks and waitresses around you, until they started to make fun of you. Calling you names, laughing about your job, your clothing, your stand in society he guessed. It all went as far as to the simple moment a waitress let a plate fall, giggling at your desperate try to catch it before it could hit the floor. She did it again and again, plate after plate, until a chef made her stop, chuckling himself as he led her away, leaving you to clean up the mess, and deal with the harsh words of your boss that night.

Carrying you upstairs he laid you down on your bed, pulling the sheets over your body before vanishing in a simply cloud of black smoke.

Oh, this would be fun.

He was getting quite hungry anyways.

He watched from afar, as the waitress in question walked past her bedroom window before shutting down the lights, most likely preparing for sleep. That was his moment.

Fear was an interesting thing to him. Not only because he fed off of it like most Demons did, but because he loved how fears told him almost everything he needed to know about a specific person. The simple instinct that tormented humans during their time of rest told him stories of their deepest desires and secrets-giving him all the power he needed to rule over them during the night.

But this time, he didn't care about that.

He'd observed her already, knowing how narcissistic she was. The small vanity full of expensive makeup showed him her insecurity of her visual image towards others- a truly childish fear in his opinion. Yet it did give him enough to play with already.

Diving into her sleep, she didn't notice his intentions at all, simply watching him as he'd sat down in the corner of her room, casually lounging in her chair placed on that spot. She smirked, as if he was her property, and he smiled back, yet with a vicious intend behind his eyes, hidden from her sight, her instincts clouded by her own desires. "Ah, jesus, haven't had a dream like that in a while." She said, getting up to sit on his lap, making him smirk at her. He knew the effect he had on humans- the body he'd chosen quite attractive already, yet his own natural aura enhanced its beauty even more, giving him a tempting charm. It worked on her just as well as it did on others, and maybe that was why he'd been hiding his face from your gaze all along. This young woman was.. basic in every way he could think of. Nothing about her peaked his interest as it did with you- a fact that should be worrying him. Yet he decided to eat first.

She started to rudely push her hands in between the fabric of his robes, making him grasp her wrists with a predatory grin. If she noticed that something was off, she didn't mention it, as she grew even more happy at the fact he was trying to control her. Humans were so fond and protective of their dreams, loving the way that they thought they had full control over everything that happened. It made nightmares the more terrifying for them. "Feisty. Love that." She murmured, and he placed his hand on her cheek, making her raise her eyebrows.

"Oh how ugly you are."

He sang with a voice playful and mocking, as she widened her eyes, trying to get off of him. "Ah-ah, where do you wanna go now? You chose your seat, yet now you want to take back your decision?" He said, gripping her waist as she gasped in pain, heart rate surely increasing as she began to sweat. His smile widened as his hands dug into her skin, surely leaving bruises as she whined out, not yet where he wanted her yet. "Feisty- love that." He mused impishly, his eyes slowly drowning in black, oozing out shadows as his pupils glowed a vibrant red, a fire behind them it seemed.

The young woman squirmed on his lap, desperation calling out to her in her veins, making her try and scratch him- yet instead of blood, she only found black ink on her hands, making her wipe them furiously as she noticed ants crawling up her legs. She began to breath heavily, eyes widening, as he laughed at her pathetic attempt to push away, his hand now gripping her jaw. "what do you think, whore?" He mused, voice distorted by an unknown force she didn't want to understand, her eyes leaking tears to no end as she realized how this was out of her control. "Ah, she is empty already. How boring." He said, letting her fall onto her back, coughing violently as she ran to her bedside table, trying to find something in it. Yet he was already behind her, forcing her body in front of her vanity mirror as he had her hair in his fist, forcefully pulling on it as if it was a handle to use, her eyes closed as she chanted to wake up. He laughed, before he spoke his words. "Look ahead, stupid child. Do you still think your disgusting words make you more appealing?" He said, as she opened her eyes;

waking up screaming louder than she'd ever did before.

With bruises ever so present.

The demon was in a good mood these days.

Maybe you just imagined things, but he felt more carefree around you, simply lounging on your couch as if he owned the place- and you didn't mind him doing that at all. He was nice company after all.

He joked around with you, asked you things, and seemed genuinely interested in you as a person; you felt as if you both got closer the more you conversed.

He noticed your dreams, yet never interfered to this night, as the nightlight broke in your room, darkness drowning your dreams in terror and war. You sobbed in your sleep, and his nonexistent heart clenched at the sight- the force inside his veins however didn't have anything to do with him joining your dreams, however. No, this was all his own decision this time.

Your dreams were.. a feast, to be exact. For him, it felt like he was at a buffet, ready to pack his plate until he was filled to the brim- yet the curled up form of your body, tormented by shadows and fiends, he sighed. He couldn't feed off of you. His own pride didn't allow it.

He considered you something humans called a 'friend', yet the desire he'd started to develop speaking different words, his own fantasies not so saint as yours.

But for now, he pushed these rabid thoughts away from his mind, crouching down next to you, embracing you into his arms for the first time, your sobs dying down as you noticed who it was shielding the darkness. Your hands grabbed onto the expensive looking fabrics he wore, trying to get even closer to him than you already were, while you calmed down, whispers and shouts around you slowly dying down, leaving nothing but comfortable white noise.

You slowly detached yourself from his form, eyes widening at the way he seemed to be emitting black smoke all around you two. Yet he also seemed to glow, just like he did back in your hospital room, a source of light without clear form. Just like a shadow, you knew what he looked like- yet you couldn't tell for sure. His face was completely blank, making you feel uneasy.

"You cannot dream of something you haven't seen yet." He said, voice low and humming, mildly distorted by some unknown force around you two. You nodded at that, his words making sense to you. Yet it made you feel a bit sad, knowing that you'll probably never see him either way. "Have you hoped to catch a glimpse of my features in your dreams, hm?" He playfully asked, brushing some hair away from your face, and you liked to imagine his face gentle and soft. "How sweet of you." He mused, before he leaned in, his features not distinguishable for your own eyes- it was as if you could see them, but forgot about them immediately. It hurt to know that you could see him, yet you couldn't hold onto the memory of it. Like your own mind was mocking you for not having the courage to go against his rule of not raising your gaze enough to study his face properly when you were awake.

Yet his kiss felt as real as it could get.

It was confident, knowing in the mere fact that you had developed feelings for the unknown being following you around these days, even though it seemed stupid to the both of you. It felt like you found something missing again, yet at the same time it was way too foreign to be something that had happened to you before. You were a shy being, way too gentle to ever find someone who would drown you in a kiss like this; fiery and demanding, yet also giving and utterly bewitching.

But didn't he say that you couldn't dream of something you haven't experienced before?

[brittababbles]

Brand New

Whiskey x reader 

Warnings: Well… Not exactly post-partum depression, I don’t think. More like new mom jitters, but I guess it could raise some ppd red flags?? Brief, non-graphic descriptions of childbirth. Jack being a sweetie because he is.Presented as a directors cut - aka without proofreading or editing. I’m spitting out random drabbles again, if that’s a warning? Enjoy, all!

 Jack Daniels prided himself on his ability to roll with the punches, for the most part. After all, it kind of came with the job. Being a Statesman meant being ready for just about anything, just about at any time. He knew that, and he’d learned to live by it. Changes, big ones as well as little ones, always seemed like they were right around the corner.

The last couple years had been full of big changes. He’d – by some miracle he still didn’t completely understand – gotten to marry his best girl, his best partner, and his best friend, all rolled into one incredible woman. He’d bought a tidy little horse farm about fifty miles outside Louisville with that very same girl, and somehow fallen even deeper in love with her. He’d pulled back on field work, taking on a heavier roll in training the new, junior Statesmen in order to stay closer to home. His wife (wife! It was still surreal) had, rather abruptly at the time, taken a desk job at headquarters. That had initially taken some explaining; Champ had been less than thrilled at the prospect of losing two of his strongest field agents in the span of six months, until Ginger Ale had produced the ultrasound to prove a completely reasonable explanation for the request. Every moment he spent with his wife had drawn a kind of bliss out of Jack he hadn’t experienced in decades, if at all.

And two days ago, she’d given him a baby girl.

It was a whirlwind of memories and emotions. He vividly remembered blatantly panicking when she’d started having contractions. He remembered getting stuck behind a tractor on the road to the hospital, an event that raised his own blood pressure far more than his unflappable wife’s contractions seemed to be raising hers. He vaguely remembered long hours of ice chips and people he didn’t know sticking their hands on and in parts of his wife that he didn’t like other people touching. And he remembered the words she’d chanted at him as her fingers tightened around his.

“I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay,” she’d breathed, as if he were the one that needed comforting in all of this.

Though when the doctor placed their daughter on his wife’s chest – a pink, squirming little person with his own dark hair and her mother’s composure – his vision had blurred with tears so badly that the nurse had to guide his hands to cut the umbilical cord. Funny that a man who could shoot a play card in half at a hundred yards couldn’t stop his hands from shaking long enough for this one moment, he thought afterward, but nobody seemed to hold it against him. His wife had wiped his tears away with her thumb as she cupped his cheek with one hand, cradling their newborn with the other.

The night at the hospital had been thankless as nurses popped in every two hours to check that mom and baby were still alive and breathing. The procedure that accompanied hospital discharge the next morning had taken much longer than Jack had considered necessary and provided the new parents with a small ream of printed handouts that Jack suspected he’d never see again. He’d spent almost twenty minutes hunting for the car in the oversized parking garage, and at least another thirty fiddling with the brand new, untouched car seat in the back seat of the car while his bemused wife and a slightly impatient nurse’s aid watched. Then, he’d taken his little family home.

They’d been greeted by his mother, his wife’s parents and oldest sister, and about half the senior staff of Statesmen. Tequila had slapped Jack on the back as if he’d had anything to do with the events of the last twenty-four hours. The entire group had taken turns cooing over the baby, who managed to make thoroughly puzzled expressions at every new face she met. There were pink balloons and teddy bears and a cake bearing a welcome message to the newest Daniels. His sister-in-law, a mother of four in her own right, had agreed to spend the first month in their guest bedroom while her brood hung out at their grandparents. The festivities had lasted a good two hours before Jack met [y/n]’s eyes and had seen the same exhaustion that had settled into his bones reflected there.

Once the house was again blissfully quiet, Jack had watched as she nestled their little one into her new bassinette, crawled into bed beside him, and promptly passed out in a dead sleep. Jack had followed nearly immediately.

It was going so well. Jack honestly couldn’t recall being happier.

Which was why, when he left his sister in law pacing the floor of the nursery with the baby, he was shocked to find her curled up in their bed, facing the wall away from him, clearly sobbing while simultaneously trying to stifle the fact that she was crying.

“Baby?” he asked from the door.

No answer. She didn’t react as if she’d heard him. He approached carefully, the jubilation he’d felt for days seeming to leak out of his shoulders.

“[Y/N]?” he said softly.

His knees bumped the edge of the bed before he sank down onto them, half shuffling on his knees, half crawling, toward her. He was bewildered, stunned. She never cried. Something must be terribly wrong.

She rolled over to look at him as his weight shifted the balance of the mattress. Her eyes were red rimmed and puffy, and her lips swollen from biting them. It still took his breath away at how beautiful she was.

“[Y/N],” he repeated weakly, “what…why…are you okay?”

She managed a halted, stuttering sort of humorless laugh.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice shaking.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” he urged, settling down onto his hip to lay next to her.

She winced, as if whatever flitted through her mind were something to be ashamed of.

“My boobs hurt,” she finally said slowly. Then, picking up steam, “My boobs hurt, and I’m fat and ugly. Our baby hates me. And I cry at those stupid abused animal commercials all the time now.”

Jack just gawked at her.

“You… baby, you’re not fat and ugly,” he said.

She scoffed.

“You just had a baby, [Y/N]. You aren’t fat, you’re healing. And you have no idea how beautiful you are.” He recognized that he sounded like he was pleading with her.

She sniffled a little, eyes widening as he scooted closer to her and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close enough that he could bury his nose in her hair.

“I won’t argue with you about the commercials. And I can’t say whether your boobs hurt but if they do, I won’t say. They look good though,” he added, glancing down at her swollen breasts in appreciation.

That earned him a half smile as she rolled her eyes. He laughed softly, earning a slightly wider smile before her face fell again.

“But our baby doesn’t hate you,” he said seriously.

She averted her eyes from his again. Her bottom lip trembled.

“Why does she cry when I hold her then? She’s so good for my sister. She’s quiet for you,” she muttered, her voice cracking a little.

“Honey, look at me,” Jack said firmly.

She did. Her eyes were filling with tears again, wide, and – for the first time Jack could remember – begging for his assurance.

“She doesn’t hate you,” he said, speaking slowly and clearly, giving each word the gravity he felt it deserved, “she adores you. Three days ago, she was inside you. You’re all she’s ever known, sweetheart. She cries for you because she knows you’ll take care of her. You always have.”

He didn’t mean to make her cry again, but all the same her tears spilled over. Immediately, he pressed his lips to her cheeks, his tongue lightly darting out to catch the salty tears there. She giggled through her tears as he tightened his hold on her.

“Why does she settle right down when you hold her, then?” she asked, her voice wavering.

“She’s just like her mama,” he answered, pressing his lips to her forehead.

She laughed again, settling into his arms. They were both quiet for several minutes, listening to each other breath.

“I love you, Jack,” she finally said, her voice muffled as her face was pressed against his neck, “You’re such a good father.”

He smiled gently.

“I love you too, sweetheart. You’re doing so good with her. You’re a great mama and we’re gonna learn how to do this together, okay?”

He leaned back to see her eyes again. She nodded, smiling fully now.

“It’s all brand new,” he added, grinning at her.

And then she leaned in to kiss him.

What he’d done to deserve this woman, he swore he’d never know. He was just beyond overjoyed he’d gotten her.

[aerynwrites]

Liberation - VIII

Chapter 8: Lost and Found

Author’s Note: OOOOOOF, you guys I have been anxiously waiting to write this chapter since the idea popped into my head like a month ago. So, finally, it’s here and I think it’s my favorite chapter!! I seriously hope you guys enjoy this as much as I do becasue this is one of the biggest chapters of the story. Enjoy. (P.S. Thank you to my lovely beta reader who proofread this part. I’m still talking to a couple people but i think i’ve decided i may just end up having a couple readers since so many people were interested. Thank you for the overwheleming response to that post btw, meant a lot!! <3)

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: cursing, angst and Graphic depictions of violence, torture, blood, broken bones, and death. You have been warned.

Chapters: Prologue, One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight (You’re Here).

--------

It had been a couple more weeks since your conversation with Din near the krill pond, and pretty much every night since then, you both made it an evening routine to sit near the same pond. Sometimes you would both just sit in a comfortable silence, just enjoying each other’s presence, and other times you would talk about your pasts, the good and bad.

“No way!” you exclaimed, disbelief lacing your words as you laughed loudly.

Din let out a small chuckle, nodding his head, “Hey! In my defense there were like, a hundred of them. Ewoks may be tiny, but when they flock together, they can be deadly.”

You shook your head, another round of giggles slipping past your lips as you looked at Din once more, “well then, remind me never to get on the Ewoks’ bad side,” you joke, looking back to the water of the krill pond.

Din just nodded, a smile creeping onto his face underneath the helmet, “I will try my best.”

You smiled at the memory as you walked out of your small lodging area on Sorgen, it was late morning and you had wanted to ask Din about doing another training session with you before the day ended. You walked through the small huts towards the outskirts of the village, and as you came out towards the smattering of Krill ponds you immediately spotted Din. He was with Omera, who had her hands on the side of his helmet, moving as if to lift it off. Your eyes widened when, at first, Din made no movement to stop her.

Was he going to let her do it?

For some reason you didn’t want her too. That was something sacred to Din, his way of life, and for it to be taken away so quick was something you weren’t sure was right. But before you could step forward to say anything you saw Din’s hands come up to grasp her wrists gently, pulling them away from his helmet. You let out a small breath before turning to find the child. Omera and Din were obviously having an important conversation, so you could wait until they were finished. You looked around, searching for the child and spotted him in the middle of a group of children, playing happily.

You gave a big smile as you walked over to the group of kids, and crouched down next to them, “And what are you all up too now?” you ask kindly.

Winta, Omera’s daughter, looks to you, “We were just watching him try and catch that frog,” she says happily, pointing to a frog a few feet away.

You glance over and spot the animal hopping away from the group, seemingly happy for your interruption which drew the child’s attention from It, to you instead. The child looked up at you, big eyes squinted as he smiled, letting out a small gurgle. You opened your mouth to say something to the children once more, but a loud gunshot rang through the air. Your heart leapt into your throat as you instinctively moved yourself in front of the group of children, wrapping your arms around them protectively. Birds flew into the air cawing loudly as they fled from the source of the sound. You quickly stood up and rushed to Din once you were sure the children were okay and heard him tell Omera to get the kids inside, before he turned to you.

“Come on,” he said firmly, jogging towards the source of the sound with you hot on his heels.

When you both finally arrived, you saw Cara standing over a smoking body, blaster in hand. Din looked from her to the body before rolling the corpse over with his boot. Your mouth set into a hard frown when you saw the familiar blinking red light of a tracking fob. You leaned down to pick up the fob and looked at the other two.

“Who’s he tracking?” Cara asked.

Mando looks back towards the village, “The kid,” he says solemnly.

“So, they know he’s here. That we’re here,” you pipe up.

Mando continues to look at the village, “Yes.”

“Then they’ll keep coming,” Cara says quietly.

“Yes,” he says, and you watch as he takes the fob from your hand and drops it onto the ground before crushing it with his boot.

-------

You stuff the last of your things in your backpack, and flip the flap closed, securing it with the buckle straps and slinging it across your shoulder. You had offered to help Din pack his things as well as the small trailer that would take you back to the ship, but he had curtly told you no. In fact, he had been oddly silent since you found the hunter in the woods, not speaking to you much and if he did it was in short, cold sentences. You felt your stomach turn at this change in behavior, since it usually didn’t mean anything good. But you swallowed your worries and walked out of the small hut you had called home for the past few months and towards the crowd of villagers surrounding your transport. You saw Din climb onto the trailer, ready to leave, so you rushed the last few yards and pushed through the crown grabbing onto the large metal trailer as you finally reached it.

“Not gonna leave without me are you Mando?” you joked.

Mando didn’t say anything, and you took that as a no, before lifting a foot onto the transport to climb in. Just as you were about to haul yourself up, you felt a hand on your shoulder firmly pushing you back off of it. You looked up confusedly to see Mando had moved towards you and was pushing you away with a hand on your shoulder.

“You’re staying,” he says coolly.

Your brows furrow in confusion and you look nervously at the villagers around you, letting out an airy chuckle, “Come on Mando, quit playing around, we gotta go.”

But another firm push stopped you from boarding once more and finally you looked into the visor of Mando’s helmet as he spoke, “I’m not joking. You’re staying here, where it’s safe.”

You feel panic and fear bubble up inside you as his words finally sink in, “You’re leaving me?” you whisper, your heart felt like it was seizing in your chest as an ache spread from the center of your body to the tips of your fingers.

Mando let out a quiet sigh, “No, I’m not leaving you, I’m going to come back,” he tried to explain, but you shoved his hands from your shoulders roughly, tears pooling in your eyes as your chest seemed to ache even more and anger started to burn inside of you.

“When? When will you come back? If you even come back at all!” your voice cracked.

Mando looked around, guilt eating at him. He knew this is how you’d react, of course it was. He was basically abandoning you while he went off galivanting the universe. But, in his mind, this was the right thing to do. You deserved a happy and safe life for once, and here you could have it. He did plan to come back for you, that part was true, he just wanted the heat to die down a little more before he did.

“(y/n), please,” he whispered, “I just – you’ll be safe here, have a happy life, until I can come back,” he seemed to be pleading now.

You shook your head, tears falling steadily down your cheeks now as you clutched onto the backpack strap as if it was your only lifeline, “I’m happy with you!” you were sobbing now, “Please don’t leave me Mando, please!”

Mando felt his heart clench in his chest as your broken sobs met his ears, but he held firm, “You’re not coming with me.”

His words caused anger, white and hot, to burst within you. The only reaction you had left in you was spite and aggression, the only defense mechanism you seemed to have.

“You’re just like my parents,” you spit, noticing instantly how Din recoiled at your words and, in a twisted way, it felt good. It felt good to know that your words hurt him as much as he was hurting you now.

“Kid, it’s not-“ Din starts, but you cut him off, pushing both of your hands into his chest so hard and fast it catches him off guard and he stumbles back.

“No,” you bite, hands clenched into fists at your side, “I hate you. I fucking hate you!”

Before Din can reply you turn on your heels and shove back through the crowd of villagers. Din watches you go, your words ringing in his ears and making his entire body feel like it was filled with lead. The words hurt worse than any injury he had sustained, and these couldn’t be healed with stitches and ointment. This was not how he wanted to leave things. The last thing he wanted to do was make you feel like he was abandoning you, just like your parents did. Omera seemed to sense his emotions because she comes up to him along with Cara and rests her hand gently on his arm.

“We will take care of her,” she says softly.

Mando nods slowly, fully trusting Omera’s words but still feeling the guilt cloud his mind, “I know, I just-“ he paused, “I wish she understood why I’m doing this.”

Cara looked at him sympathetically, “She will. Just give her some time.”

Mando didn’t say anything else, except for a few goodbyes before he loaded back on the transport and it started to move. He looked at the child, who was staring sadly after the village as it disappeared behind the trees, and he couldn’t help but feel like he failed the two people who mattered most.

-------

You huffed as you walked through the village, blaster at your hip and cloak situated on your shoulders. It had been only two days since Mando had left, and as the hours passed since your more than dramatic goodbye, your anger had given way to confusion and heartache. Deep down you knew that he was only doing what he thought was best, but you were still hurt. You had told him your past, told him what your parents did to you, told him how important what you had with him was, and he still leaves you behind?

You must be horrible to be around if he left you too….

You have to swallow past the lump in your throat at the intrusive thought, as you continue to walk through the village, you had cried pretty much nonstop since he left, so you didn’t want to start again.

“Where are you off too?” you hear Cara call from behind you.

You stop your strides and turn to face her, shrugging your shoulders, “A walk. I just wanted to get some air. Get away for a few hours.”

Cara nods in understanding, “Just keep your eyes open out there, cool?”

You roll your eyes and give her a mock salute, “Yes ma’am.”

She scoffs, “Don’t be a smartass,” she chides, “And be back before dark.”

You give her a small smile, “I will be. I don’t like the dark anyway so I’ll be back before sunset.”

Cara gives you a smile and nods, seemingly happy with your answer before turning back into the dining hall, letting you continue on your way. You passed the krill ponds, trying to ignore the memories it gives you as you do so and walk into the trees. The sounds of nature envelope you as you walk deeper into the forest, planning to head to the local cantina for some food that’s not krill and possibly a drink. Maybe it would help you forget, at least for a while.

As you continue to walk through the dense trees, the sounds of insects and birds greet your ears softly, a soothing sound that makes you smile for the first time in two days. However, the snapping of a twig makes it disappear just as fast. You turn around, hand on your blaster as your eyes scan the trees around you slowly.

“Who’s there?” you call out cautiously, “Cara if that’s you I swear to the maker, I’m going to blast your ass.”

The only answer you receive is the sound of footsteps approaching rapidly behind you, and as you spin around, a fine, bitter smelling mist is sprayed into your face. You cry out in surprise and stumble back, vision already starting to glaze over as the chemical takes effect.

“What the hell,” you slur, trying to gain your footing but falling helplessly onto your ass, hands digging into the dirt, “Who are you? what-“ you try to focus on the figure in front of you as they approach but everything is blurry, “What do you want?”

“You’ll see soon enough,” a low voice rumbles, before picking you up and tossing you over their shoulder.

You try to struggle, fight back, shoot them, anything that will help you escape, but you realize you’ve dropped your blaster. And even if you didn’t your limbs felt like lead as they flopped uselessly against the figure carrying you away. You tried to stay awake, tried to call for help, but the only thing you can do is stare at the forest floor as your vision goes black.

----

Sunset comes and goes with no sign of your return, causing Cara to chew worriedly on her nails as she stands on the porch of your shared quarters. She finally glances over to Omera who looks just as worried as she is and lets out a final huff, grabbing her blaster.

“I’m going to find her. She should’ve been back hours ago.”

Omera nods, and crosses her arms, “I heard one of the villagers say that she told them she was heading to the Cantina in town. So maybe check in that direction,” She suggests.

Cara nods firmly before walking swiftly in the direction she saw you leave. The minute she enters the forest she sees the shallow imprints of your boots on the soft forest floor, and follows them. She walks for almost an hour before she finally sees your steady trail of footsteps falter, turning in different directions before they lead her to a rough patch of kicked up dirt where it seemed you had fallen. She quickly identifies another set of large and unfamiliar footprints coming from the opposite direction. She feels her heart speed up at what the tracks in from of her mean and she moves quickly as she follows the other new set of imprints. However, as she follows them, the deeper into the forest they get. The ground starts to get harder and leaves cover the earth in a thick blanket, until the footprints are no longer visible.

She had lost your trail.

She curses quietly, before turning back the way she came and messing with a few things on her arm guard before a hologram finally pops up, a familiar T-shaped visor staring back at her.

“Cara?” his modulated voice crackled through the aging speakers of her equipment, but she can still clearly hear the confusion in his voice.

“You’ve got to get back here. As soon as you can,” she says firmly, trying to hide the panic in her voice.

“What, why? I just left two days ago.”

“Dammit Mando!” she shouts, “Someone took (y/n), she went out for a walk and never showed back up. I tracked her but it looks like someone got her. And now-“

“I’m on my way, be there in a few hours,” Mando interrupted before shutting down the communication.

Mando stared out the windshield of his spaceship for a brief moment before punching in the coordinates for Sorgen. After he had done that he slammed his fist on the dashboard in frustration, startling the child in the process. He looked over at him, petting his ear lightly before returning to the ships controls.

He was coming for you.

------

It took a few moments when your consciousness finally decided to make an appearance again. At first you noticed an uncomfortable, bordering on painful, presence around your wrists, which were positioned above your head. Then your senses finally seemed to catch up with your as you opened your eyes slowly. It didn’t take anytime for your eyes to adjust to the dimly lit surroundings, immediately taking in the filthy concrete floor beneath you as well as the barred door leading out of the tiny room. The next thing you notice is how you’re positioned. Your hands are cuffed together and suspended from the ceiling above your head by a thick rope, leaving your feet on the ground; however, all of your body’s weight is mostly on your wrists above you, cramping your shoulders and making your hands numb. You start to panic at your situation, heart beating frantically in your chest and blood rushing in your ears. You start to move around trying, in vain, to free your hands from the restraints, but the cell door opened and the figure from the forest enters holding a bucket. You open your mouth to make a snarky remark but he throws the contents of the bucket towards you dousing you in frigid water, sucking the breath from your lungs.

“Now,” the man speaks turning the bucket upside down on the ground and sitting on it, “we can do this the easy way, or the hard way,” he says calmly, but not hiding the venom in his voice.

You can’t seem to form any words past the chattering of your teeth and your shivering as the cold water soaks your clothes and stick uncomfortably to your skin. So, the man takes this as his cue to continue.

“Tell us where the asset is and we’ll let you go. Simple, right?”

Your eyes widen as the words leave his mouth and you feel a shiver run down your spin, this one not caused by the cold.

“I d-don’t know wh-where t-they are,” you stutter out, your shivering making it impossible to speak properly.

The man let’s out a disappointed ‘tsk’ sound before he motions someone in the cell, “Wrong answer sweetheart.”

You watch in horror as another man steps into the cell, the air crackling with electricity as he activates a stun baton in his hand. You struggle against your bonds pushing onto your tiptoes in an attempt to put as much distance between you and the man approaching.

“No, no, no please I swear I don’t-“

Before you could finish, the man thrusts the baton into your side and you seize up, a white fire consuming your entire body as the electricity courses through you. Tears leak from your eyes but you can’t even blink them away, the pain and electricity paralyzing you, until the man pulls away. You sag against your restraints, muscles like jelly after the electric shocks and your chest heaves as you try to suck breath back into your lungs.

“Let’s try that again, shall we?” the man’s voice meets your ears through the ringing in them.

You shake your head quickly, pushing past the sobs fighting to escape your throat, “Please,” you gasp, “I really don’t know where they are, they left me here. He wouldn’t take me with him,” you plead, lifting your head to look at the man.

He just clicks his tongue and stands, taking the baton from his accomplice and stalking towards you so he was almost nose to nose with you grasping your hair roughly, “Now see,” he begins, “That just doesn’t make any sense to me. Because from what I’ve heard, you’ve become pretty important to that beskar wearing traitor, and I highly doubt he would just ‘leave you’.”

In a split moment of impulsivity you set your jaw defiantly before spitting in his face, a smirk adorning your features, “Well you can go eat shit you fu-“

Another jab with the stun baton renders you speechless once more before he is pulling away from you and wiping aggressively at his face, baring his teeth at you, “You’re going to regret that,” he threatens before walking out of your cell, the door closing with a resounding clang.

You let out heavy breaths as they leave, cringing at the aching pain in your limbs after the shocks. If this was only the beginning, what else could they possibly have in store for you? You shook the thought from your head, your only hope being that Cara would come looking for you when you didn’t come back after your walk.

Maker, you think, your head hanging low as you dangle from the ceiling, someone please come save me.

Your eyes had hardly fallen shut when the cell door was forced open again. You startled, trying to stand as straight as you could on your feet, despite your legs cramping painfully from being in this position for who knows how many hours. You see the same two men from before walk in but this time they don’t have anything with them as they approach you once more.

“Ready to talk now?” the tall one asks. He was the one that attacked you in the forest and the one conducting the interrogation from before.

“who are you anyways?” you ask tiredly.

“We’re with the guild, tasked with finding that traitor mentor of yours and the asset he stole,” he says simply.

You bristle at his words, “Mando isn’t a traitor, he saved that kids life when assholes like you-“

The mans fist connects with your side faster than you could prepare for and you cry out as you hear a painful crack come from where he hit. A sharp, agonizing pain radiates from your side down to the tips of your toes and your eyes widen as you try to take in a breath.

“Enough with this self-righteous bullshit,” he seethes gripping your chin harshly and pulling you to face him, “Tell me where they are.”

You look him dead in the eyes as you speak, “I already told you, I. don’t. know!” you emphasize each word before adding, “And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you jackshit,” you snapped.

This obviously wasn’t the answer he wanted, and since you knew this, you were prepared for the next blow to your temple. However he seemed to hit even harder than before and pain blossomed throughout your skull, ears ringing from the impact.

It continued on like this for what felt like days. Honestly, you had no idea how much time had passed, it could have been mere hours for all you knew. No matter how many times you told them you didn’t know where Mando and the kid were they didn’t believe you. So, they continued your torture, water boarding, stun batons, beating the living shit out of you…you name it they’ve done it. And as they left your cell for what felt like the millionth time, you finally cried. You felt the tears fall down your cheeks, warming the freezing skin as they went. You could feel the crusted blood on your brows crack and spilt as you scrunched them together and sobs wracked your body.

“This is how I’m gonna die huh?” you say to no one in particular as you let out a dry laugh, “Go fucking figure. Die in a cell as a captive.” You sniffle as you feel your knees collapse beneath you, no longer able to hold your weight. Your foggy mind was instantly filled with memories of you and Din by the krill pond, as well as you and the kid playing with the other children in the village. You felt a small smile tug at your split lips at the memories. At least your last few months of life weren’t horrible, at least you had some happy memories to look back on.

The usual silence of your prison is suddenly broken by the faint sound of distant blaster fire. Your head shoots up immediately and you hear shouts from within the building.

“They’re here! They’ve found us!” a voice shouts, and you see a small group of figures run past your cell, “It’s the Mandalorian!”

Your heart rate increases as you struggle to get your footing beneath you.

He came back! he came back for you!

You hear more blaster fire, closer now, followed by the pained screams of people being shot down. However, before you can get too excited about your imminent rescue, your kidnapper bursts through your cell door and rushes towards you, a large knife in hand. You flinch instinctively, ready for him to run you through right there, but instead, he cuts the rope above your head releasing your from your binds. You fall to the ground, legs not used to holding your entire body weight, and your captor takes this moment of weakness to turn on you.

“I knew he would come for you,” he smiles triumphantly.

You narrow your eyes, and stand albeit unsteadily to your feet, facing him, “He’s going to fucking kill you.”

The man lets out a lough laugh tilting his head back as he does so, and you take this moment of distraction to run full force towards him, effectively tackling him to the ground. He lands roughly on his back, knife sliding from his hand across the floor as he tries to catch his breath that was knocked from his lungs on impact. You again take advantage of his stunned state to roll off of him and swipe the mechanism to unlock your cuffs from his belt. You unlock the metal around your wrists with a successful click before lunging for the discarded knife.

The blaster fire was in the building now.

Just as you grabbed the knife, the man pulled your feet from underneath you and you fell on the floor hard. You felt your injured ribs seem to shatter even further as you hit the cold concrete, and you were blinded momentarily by the pain that shot through your chest. You felt hands on you now, turning you over and grabbing for the knife in your hand. But you fought, you struggled underneath the weight blindly before driving the knife downwards and into the chest of the man on top of you. You finally looked into his eyes as the realization of defeat crossed his features. However, you felt an shrap intense pain shoot through your abdomen just as you rolled his limp body off of you.

You struggled to draw in any air as your eyes looked down at the knife protruding from your stomach, the bastard must’ve had a spare. On instinct you pull the knife from your body, surprised at how little it hurt, and forced yourself to stand, ignoring the rush of warm red liquid soaking your shirt. You put a hand firmly over the wound, trying to focus your vision on the path in front of you instead of the blurring edges threating to suffocate you. You feel the thick warmth rushing over your fingers as you move towards the exit of the cell.

The blaster fire was so close, you could hear it. You could see their forms as they entered your cell, hear their distant voices as they rushed to you as you collapsed into the beskar clad arms of the Mandalorian.

“Holy shit,” you hear Cara’s voice break through the fog.

“(y/n)? Kid, you gotta stay with me,” Din’s voice, usually so calm and stoic is fast and panicked as he speaks to you, adjusting you in his arms.

You bring one of your hands up to grasp desperately at his chest, hand slipping on his metal armor, leaving an opaque red streak behind as it falls back into your lap, “I didn’t tell them anything,” you gasp out, the pain finally kicking in as your adrenaline wears away, “they asked where you were-“ tears leaked from your eyes as you finally brought them up to meet the visor looking down at you, “But I didn’t tell them,” he had to know. He had to know you didn’t betray him, didn’t tell them anything. He had to know he could trust you.

“She didn’t even know where you all were anyway,” you hear Cara reason.

You shook your head, he needed to understand, “No, no,” you insist, “I wouldn’t have told them anyway. I wouldn’t have, I promise I wouldn’t have,” you whimpered.

Din feels like he wants to throw up, he hasn’t felt these kinds of emotions with such force since his parents were murdered. He couldn’t process what was happening, he couldn’t deal with the thought of losing you too. So, he ripped his cloak from his back, careful not to jostle you too much before wrapping it tightly around the wound in your abdomen, ignoring your cries of pain as he did so.

“Don’t let me die here,” you plead, head now swimming because of the blood loss.

These words spur Din into action, he stands quickly, moving with Cara towards the exit with you held tightly in his arms, “You’re not going to die, kid,” and he wasn’t sure if he said that to reassure you, or himself.

He felt you shake your head, “Don’t let me die in a prison,” you clarified, “not here.”

Din felt his heart drop to his stomach at your words and he moved even faster and finally exited the building. He needed to get you to the ship so he could get you to the village, that was your only hope.

His only hope.

You let out a small smile, as your eyes took in the blue sky past the green foliage of the trees above you as you exited the building. You could feel your vision get even fuzzier, your head was pounding and yet, you were at peace. With what little strength you had left you moved your hand up to cover Din’s, whose was grasping your upper arm tightly as he held you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your eyes fluttering as darkness creeped at the edges of your vision, a coldness seeping into your limbs.

“Hey! (y/n), you stay the hell awake! Don’t close your eyes!”

Din’s voice sounded like it was galaxies away as he continued to shout at you to stay awake. The only thing you managed to do was smile and take in the fading blue sky as your vision faded black and your body went limp in Din’s arms.

------

Liberation Tag: @lirinchi @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8 @fucking-dip-shit @notmyspaghetti @humbleseame @riddlersfate @fandoms-equal-my-life @kaialisonflame @goth-pigeon @sinon36 @bruithel @magical-fandoms @scarlett126 @rickysbxssett @jamesdeerest @tennisislife12345 @rosey-posey141100 @forever-paramore28 @gothtechie @hollybee0987 @witheringblooddemon @katelicon @sparrows-books @twofacedbassy @crazy-obsessed-fangirl​ @eternallyvenus​ @lewismerryweather​ @doubtedbus409​ @the-dream-catch3r​ @and-i-swear-we-are-infinite​ @cinnanomwolf​

Mando Tags: @tryn25​ @igotmadskills​ @dizzydazed​ @theforceofdisney​ @jeepangel​ @maryan028​ @mandalorian-theway​

Permanent/all pedro stuff tag: @fleurdemiel145​ @sargesbestgirl​ @lustriix​ @yeah-boiiiiiiiiiii​ @lord-wolfgen @petalduck​ @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​ @stillreadingfantasy​ @longitud-de-onda​

[violetwolfraven]

Look, I don't have any specific prompt but can you write anything about the superpowers au?

Epic. I’ve got an idea I’ve been sitting on for a while that I was gonna write anyway but anyway I hope you ship jomike. Also that you’re okay with one in the rebellion version of the au cause that’s what the idea is.

Get ready for A N G S T.

Tw: injuries, non-graphic physical abuse, and kind of a bit of internalized homophobia.

...

Logically, Jojo knew that there was no one coming for him. Albert couldn’t afford to risk anyone else, and besides, they didn’t even know where this prison was to send someone. And if by some chance what was left of the gang could find this place, there was the fact that Jojo wasn’t even that powerful. He was just a flora, and not a leader. He’d known the risk when he went on that mission.

So, logically, Jojo knew no one was coming. No one could.

But as things got worse and worse from the second he got there, as the guards gave out beatings for nothing, for no reason, and left kids barely breathing left and right, Jojo kept hoping they would, anyway.

He thought he saw Jack once, across the cafeteria, but there was no way to know for sure.

Another time, he thought he heard Crutchie’s voice from that little jail cell they put him in before they brought him here, but when he called out, no one responded.

He though he’d passed a cell once that contained a boy with a shock of golden hair like Race’s, but he didn’t know if it was just his imagination.

Jojo didn’t know what was his imagination anymore. This place, a haze of pain and fear, had a way of messing with you. A part of him was still hoping it was all just a bad dream, but another part of him said that if he could wake up from this, he would have a long time ago.

But this place was messing with his head. He already didn’t know how long he’d been there, so he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like Jojo had never felt pain before to recall it in dreams or memories.

“Hey, Jo, are you feelin’ up to tryin?’”

That was only one part of this nightmare that he really hoped was real.

Jojo hadn’t known Mike well before everything started going wrong. He’d known him enough to say hello, known that Mike was a twin, that he was the same age as Jojo, and what his powers were, but they hadn’t been friends. Barely even acquaintances, really.

Then Manhattan split up, and Jojo went with Albert, Mike went with Finch, and honestly, he’d barely even thought about the fact that he would probably never see him again, unless Albert or Finch actually succeeded in finding Jack, Crutchie, and Race.

Then Albert had taken Jojo, among others, on a hit, trying to take out the Delanceys.

Jojo was supposed to grow stinging nettles over the back door to prevent those assholes from escaping. He’d been halfway done with it, but Wiesel had gotten a cloth full of chloroform over his mouth and nose before he could react, and then Jojo was in a tiny jail cell with nothing for him to grow anything out of.

From there, they’d knocked him out again to transport him to the prison codenamed: the Refuge, and the next thing Jojo knew, he was being tossed into a cell with one of the Guzman twins.

“Well, well, well. Jojo de la Guerra. Great to see ya! Welcome to hell.”

Jojo had hidden how freaked out that made him enough to clarify that this was Mike, and oddly, he didn’t seem all that different from how Jojo remembered him. He seemed... fine. Sarcastic and funny. Which was weird because by all accounts, these prisons were basically hell.

He’d found out later that night that the Refuge really was hell, when the guards decided to welcome him by dragging him out of the cell to a room down the hall, yanking his shirt off, and taking an old belt to his back.

Jojo had tried not to scream, but he’d only been able to manage it for so long. And when the guards finally had enough, got his shirt back on him, and dumped him back in the cell, he was bleeding heavily and only half-conscious.

He’d flinched when someone gently touched his arm, and tried to get away, but instead, the hands pulled him closer, gentle as possible while still overpowering Jojo’s incoherent struggling.

Jojo had stopped struggling when he realized that the arms wrapped around him were staying gentle, that there was no more pain coming, but he’d still been dazed and confused.

“Mike?”

Mike hadn’t responded, and Jojo had felt the vibrations against his chest before he heard it; Mike singing quietly, his hands stinging less and less against Jojo’s back.

“I can’t heal ya,” he’d said when he was done, “I haven’t figured out a combination for that yet. But this’ll take away the pain. For a little while, at least.”

“How are you doin’ that?” Jojo had asked, “You said you’ve been here a month.”

The powered people in the Refuge were given only the bare minimum of food, because though power-dampeners couldn’t completely take away anyone’s abilities, powers took energy and you couldn’t summon enough energy to use them with the dampener already interfering if you were half-starved.

At least, that was the theory, which evidently wasn’t completely true with how Mike was using his powers like normal, like nothing was wrong.

“I have. And I can’t do everythin’ in here, but... I guess some of us just know how to run on empty.”

He’d used water and soap from their sink and a ripped-up sheet they didn’t need to clean and bandage Jojo’s back, and the pain had stayed away until the next morning.

They’d fallen into a routine, patching each other up when they got hurt, talking about whatever came to mind during long days with nothing to do, sitting together at meals, and...

And little by little, Jojo started to realize that he was feeling things for Mike he’d never felt before, in a fluttering warmth when he smiled, a dull, throbbing hurt when he started to be able to tell how many of those smiles were faked, a fear deep in his bones when guards dragged the other boy out of the cell.

Or... maybe he had felt this before. Or something like it. He’d felt these things in a different way for every one of his close friends, and...

And he’d felt it to an extent for Race, once upon a time, when they were maybe 13. Then again, for Elmer for only about a month, when they were 15.

It had been a lot less intense, when he felt it for them, but it was definitely this, or something like it.

But Jojo had buried those feelings, never let himself think about them, forced himself to focus on developing his powers, instead. He’d decided he wasn’t going to feel that way, waited the feelings out and never made a move, because if there was one thing people hated more than a person with powers, it was a gay person with powers.

Jojo didn’t have anything else to focus on here, unless he wanted to focus on his own pain (he didn’t) so he was forced to feel every slight shift in his emotions as he fell in love with Mike.

He was falling. Slowly, but surely, he was falling.

And it wasn’t scary, like he was expecting.

Well, it was. But it was a million other things, too, most of them good.

But of course, falling in love in the Refuge was full of complications, and as they switched to sharing a bed on cold nights, (Jojo guessed at least a couple months must have passed if it was getting this cold. That, or the Refuge was farther north than they’d thought.) a few nights, it got so cold that Mike had to sing them some warmth.

They’d gotten lucky that nobody had noticed all the times when Mike took away Jojo’s pain, or his own, if he could manage a song after a beating, and that they hadn’t seen the first few nights he sang them some warmth.

They couldn’t stay lucky forever.

The next time Mike sang to keep them warm, the guards came in and dragged him away not five minutes later.

He was still breathing when they brought him back, but only barely, and Jojo had never felt this kind of fear before.

Mike had more bruises than Jojo could count, belt scars on his back, at least four broken ribs, and blood running down his face from a nose that was probably broken.

He was crying. No matter how bad things got, he never cried.

“Shh,” Jojo had said, “It’s okay. It’s over now. It’s gonna be okay. I’m here.”

Jojo had managed to get him up on the bed, but that was about all he could do.

Mike always smiled at him after this happened, to let him know that he wasn’t okay, but he would recover. And no matter how much Jojo hated how he felt the need to smile when he wasn’t feeling it, it was worse now that he wasn’t smiling, because that meant he was hurt so badly that he couldn’t care.

“Mike, you need to sing. Please, Mike. You need to sing the pain away.”

They’d beaten him so badly that he couldn’t sing. That was the problem. He was in so much pain that all he could do was sob.

And Jojo was helpless to do anything to take away that pain.

Jojo really hated being helpless.

He’d used their makeshift bandages to clean and treat the other boy’s wounds as best he could, but Mike was still in so much pain the next morning that he couldn’t even sit up.

For days afterwards, he wouldn’t or couldn’t talk, and he definitely didn’t sing, so Jojo had to fill the silence.

He’d talked about random things, when he could think of something to talk about, or sang, if he could remember lyrics to a song. And it was by no means like it had been when Mike would talk back, but at least after the first couple days, Jojo could tell he was listening.

It didn’t start to get better until a long time later.

Jojo had been singing to fill the silence, just some song he remembered that happened to be a duet in the real version.

“I remember what you wore on the first day, you came into my life and I thought, hey, you know, this could be something. Cause everything you do and words you say, you know that it all takes my breath away and now I'm left with nothing.

And maybe it’s true—“

He’d been shocked enough that he had to force himself to keep singing when Mike joined in from across the cell, singing the harmony part.

“—that I can't live without you, and maybe two is better than one. But there's so much time, to figure out the rest of my life, and you've already got me coming undone. And I'm thinking two is better than one.”

They’d sang that song together, and Mike wasn’t using his powers; just his regular singing voice, but it was more than he’d spoken in weeks, so Jojo let him go silent again afterwards.

It was trial and error after that. Sometimes, Mike would join in on duets and sometimes he wouldn’t. He still never used his powers and barely spoke, but his voice came back little by little.

It was warm enough that they didn’t have to share a bed anymore, though did, sometimes, anyway, by the time Mike asked the crutial question.

“How would you feel about getting out of here?”

They’d concocted a plan, Jojo giving Mike some of his food leading up to enacting it, so he could finally manage a big use of his powers.

Using his powers for the first time since the guards tried to beat them out of him, Mike sang a blow of power strong enough to put a crack in the back wall of their cell.

From there, they switched to getting Jojo’s strength up, and he started on growing the strong roots of an oak tree through the crack, lengthening it and punching through to the other side.

Tonight, if Jojo could make his tree grow suddenly and quickly, it would rip the wall apart.

“I can try,” he said, offering Mike a smile.

The other boy stood back as Jojo focused, feeling the fibers of the tree and all his messed-up emotions that, in theory, made him stronger.

The crack widened suddenly with a loud crumbling noise, and alarms started blaring.

“Not to put pressure on ya, Jo, but now would be a good time!”

“I’m tryin’!” Jojo exclaimed, “Come on!”

He wasn’t strong enough. He was half-starved and the dampener was weakening him and no matter how many messed-up emotions the Refuge made him feel, it wasn’t enough.

“Jojo,” Mike said, halfway panicked, “I’m really sorry if I’s been readin’ your signals wrong, but...”

Jojo was already calling on love and protectiveness as well as fear and pain.

The wall exploded.

Because Mike had grabbed Jojo’s face, pulled him close, and kissed him.

It was desperate and scared, but good and deep, too and it made Jojo feel like he was flying, like even hell could have a little heaven in it if he tried hard enough.

Then Mike pulled away, his face still scared as he looked over his shoulder and saw that Jojo had grown a full-grown oak tree in the space where the wall used to be, the trunk thick enough to support the ceiling and the leaves visibly green even against the red lights flashing with the alarm.

The alarm.

They needed to get out.

The Refuge was clearly in the middle of nowhere, with a couple hundred feet between them and a thick treeline. If they could get there, Jojo would be in his element. He wouldn’t need to create new plants, just use existing ones to his advantage. He was feeling strong enough to do that.

“Come on!” Jojo exclaimed, grabbing Mike’s hand and rushing for the opening between the tree and the wall on one side.

He’d never grown one that big before.

The difference as they left the actual cell was noticeable. Jojo could feel when the dampener was no longer messing with him.

Mike held him back for a second in the space between their cell and the outside world, singing a combination Jojo didn’t recognize.

“It’s a shield,” he explained urgently, “I ain’t at full strength, so I don’t know how long it’ll hold, but—“

“You used your powers.”

It was the first time in... Jojo didn’t even know how long. Days? Weeks? He’d thrown up out of panic after using them to crack the wall in the first place and hadn’t used his powers again since.

Mike nodded, “We’d never make it if I didn’t. We still need to run like hell.”

He wasn’t at full strength. The shield might fail under gunfire. It might only last a few seconds. Even if it didn’t, they’d have to be quick to put enough distance between them and the Refuge to stay free.

Jojo squeezed Mike’s hand as he heard guards shouting in the hallways, “Ready?”

“Set.”

“Go!” They shouted together, then took off running, not dropping hands as they hauled ass towards the tree line.

The shield held up most of the way, and Jojo felt a bullet nick his arm, but he didn’t let himself care as he kept running. He just ran faster.

They barely made it, and they had to slow down due to the complete darkness of night but still keep moving so the guards wouldn’t catch them, but Jojo could finally breathe.

He was surrounded by plants, holding hands with the boy he loved and knowing that he was finally waking himself up from a long nightmare.

No one was coming to rescue them, but that was alright.

They could survive long enough to get back to the waking world of New York.

Growing stinging nettles behind them to make pursuit a little more interesting wasn’t even that hard.

...

((Btw I didn’t state it super clearly, but Mike’s power is that he can make basically anything happen with his voice. It’s just a matter of finding the right combination of notes.))

[a19yearoldtryinherbest]

Dead Man. [Barry Berkman]

Masterlist

15 Days of Hader

Day 4

Prompt: Fuches messes with the wrong guy one more time.

Pairing: Barry Berkman x OFC

Warning: Angst, graphic depiction of violence, swearing, character death.

A/N: Day four of 15 Days Of Hader!

This could’ve work with Sally instead of an OFC but I wasn’t sure.

Also I did this in one day so, again, I apologize for any mistakes.

Also, also, NoHo Hank and cristobal are totally canon you can’t change my mind. I mean, the hug, Cristobal calling him mi corazón, the I love you... I can’t.

Word count: 3355

•  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •

— Things are simple, Barry. We do the deal with the Chechens, you do your thing for them whenever they tell you to, we split the money and the pretty girl doesn't get hurt.

— Fuck you, Fuches. — Barry growled between gritted teeth, holding his phone steady to his ear.

— Oh, I think you're gonna want to change that answer, buddy — he chimes, amused by his own fucked up game — See, the girl is with me right now, — his breathing stopped and his stomach clenched — and I have some knife freak Chechen guy here and I'm sure he would love to cut her pretty face. — all that Barry could feel was his heart pounding against his chest and rage. The entire world was gone it was only him and the shaky breaths Hayley let out into the microphone.

— Barry? — she let out, her voice shaking with fear.

— Hayley. — he breathed out in fear — Hayley, I'm here.

— Barry, w-what's going on?

He felt his chest twist in itself, feeling sick to his stomach — I'm sorry I got you mixed up in all of this, Harp. It's gonna be alright. It'll be over soon, I'm gonna keep you safe, okay? You'll be alright.

He was hoping to hear her reply bit he couldn't, Fuches grabbed the phone back having heard everything he said — You know, you shouldn't make promises that you can't keep.

— You're a fucking dead man, Fuches. I'm gonna fucking kill you, you hear me? — Barry voice was dark, more than just dark, it was rough, threatening, almost diabolical as if the only thing composing him was anger. And, at that moment, it almost was.

Fuches laughed at him — You already said that a few months ago, buddy, and I'm still alive. So, don't make promises. — he laughed — NoHo Hank will send you the details. Then we'll consider letting the girl go. — after that the line went silent, so did Barry's mind.

His phone ringed a few times and he looked at the message, seeing Hank's name above the new message. NoHo liked Barry so the first message said

"I'm sorry. The kidnapping was Fuches idea, I was totally against it."

Followed by

"Hayley is very nice. I'm trying to keep her comfortable but the fucking knife guy won't go away. He wants to look at her face so he will know how to cut it. Whatever the fuck that means"

And

"So, the target would be Nicola Jefferson. In 78 Evanson Street. We already sent the bullet, so no worries."

With two pictures of the guy. But Barry paid no mind to it and replied

"Tell me where Fuches is."

After a few seconds Hank replied

"You know I can't do that"

"Tell me or I'll find out myself and more people will die"

A few minutes passed with NoHo's side of the screen was occupied by three dots, in that time Barry went to his bedroom and removed the mattress to reveal his guns.

"I'm sorry. Just do the hit, Barry."

He wasn't gonna push Hank, he was his only ally at that moment — Fuck. — he said as he grabbed a few guns, one for the guy, one for Fuches, one more just in case. He didn't even think while he went to the direction he was given and looks for the guy. He kicked the door down, fueled by rage and fear, and went to the kitchen were the guy was. He heard the screaming and the begging but he didn't bulge. His hand went up, shooting twice, both hitting in his forehead.

He put the gun down and grabbed his phone, dialing Hank — It's done.

— Well that was fast! — chimed Hank's voice as

— Tell me where they are. — he demanded, his voice cold and empty.

— Barry. — he said, somewhat playfully followed by the sound of footsteps and a door — Alright we're on the Colombians' old storage. — he said almost whispering — But you need to take me too. Everybody is being rude with me and Cristobal for, like, no reason. And also this is super creepy and I can see Hayley is really uncomfortable. — he added that name into his list as his blood boiled in his veins.

— Stay beside her. Keep her safe. — he said before hanging up the phone. He got in his car and went the opposite way than the police sirens were coming from. He ran red lights and went at all times way over the speed limit. However, when he got to the hideout he stopped about a block away and entered by foot, shooting at least five Chechens before a sixth one sounded the alarm, that meaning he saw Barry an ran for his life screaming.

Barry shot him too, first on the leg to throw him down and then, once he had caught up to him, on the head. He shot the few people on the couch that were watching a show in Spanish -but noted they weren't Colombians- who hadn't reacted fast enough to grab the guns on the table, he grabbed a few since the one in his hand had no bullets left.

He put a bullet in the chamber, turned around and shot the three guys coming from his left, two of them on the head, one on the gut, and then the left arm. He saw no one else was coming and went to the one that he left alive, anger and fear controlling his body as he leaned on top of the guy and pressed on the wound in his arm with the tip of the handgun — Where the fuck is Fuches?! — he screamed as the guy cried in pain. He wasn't thinking of what he was doing but on the back of his mind he knew he would be remorseful of what he was doing, all of it.

— I don't know! — the guy cried, shaking his head with his eyes closed, immeasurable pain running from his gut and arm.

— Hayley! Where is she?! — he grabbed his face, strong, crushing grip on his jaw — Look at me! — the guy did as he was told and opened his eyes, fear glimmering alongside the tears but Barry seemed to be unable to care about it as his look stayed angry and cold — Where is she? — he wasn't screaming but he might as well had, the fear it generated on anyone who heard it was beyond anything else could give. His words were like a promise of pain and death.

— I don't know. — he wished he did, specially when Barry stood up and pointed the gun at him — No, no, please wai-! — the bullet stopped him from begging, and Barry continued walking, remembering the maps he had seen about a year and a half when he had to do the raid. He decided to go where TAYLOR? had found the money.

As he walked he kept crossing paths with more Chechens going after him, killing them without hesitation, one after the other, counting the bullets and not the bodies on the floor.

He saw four tall, armed guys and at the end of the corridor and NoHo's boss, where he had to make a turn, so he grabbed his second gun from the back of his pants and charged towards them shooting two from half way and the other two after, leaving the boss to shake in his spot as he looked for a way out, but he didn't found one, alive.

He recharged the clip on the door before shooting the lock and opening it with a kick and immediately following it with four shots, Chechen guy, Chechen guy, Fuches leg, Chechen guy, Cristobal — No! Barry, wait! — NoHo Hank stopped him, posing himself in front of the Colombian, grabbing his hand — He's with us. — Barry lowered the gun, trying to understand what was next.

— You bald fuck! You sold us out! — Fuches cried out anger and pain on his voice and Barry remembered why he had shot him in the leg and not the head. He walked towards the body of the person he used to see as some sort of father figure and stepped on the injured leg. He was enraged, his mind unhinged, even if he seemed calmer than before, his body was almost shaking with fury and his head was filled with only one thought, make him suffer, as he pointed the gun at Fuches shoulder — This is for trying to turn Mr Couseneou against me. — Barry shot his shoulder, hearing him scream in pain, and waited until he was able to talk.

— Barry, you don't have to do this. I can go- I- please, buddy, I- — he started to beg but Barry kept his expression unfazed as if most emotions inside of him were blocked. He pointed the gun at his other arm.

— This is for kidnapping my girlfriend — another shot and and another cry of pain.

— Buddy, you don't have to do this. Please, don't- — Barry looked at him in the eye and Fuches stopped, knowing there was no use to keep talking, he was done, he was fucked — Barry.

— This is for turning me into this.

In the deafening silence that the bullet and screaming left behind all that was heard was a whimper. Barry turned to it, seeing the terrified look on Hayley's face but not registering it was because of him and his blood stained face.

— Hayley. — he mumbled under his breath, moving softly towards her but she crawled back into the wall. She feared him. She had seen him in his worst and she had learn to fear the man she thought would never hurt her. And he hadn't, not intentionally at least.

He saw the look on her face and felt his heart sink, and just like that he felt every emotion that was blocked before, the anger being washed away with shame, fear and pain, seeing on her eyes all the things he had done, seeing the monster she now was able to see.

— Hayley. — he said moving his hand forward and he could've sworn he saw her flinch.

— Guys! — called Hank, looking at the door — They're coming!

Barry looked at him and then back at Hayley — Love, please, I'm won't hurt you. — she looked at him hesitant. It was Barry again, it was his sweet and soft voice, but she couldn't help but remembering the way he sounded when he killed that guy. She looked at his eyes and saw the same face that she saw waking up every morning but it was stained with blood — Please, just let me get you out of here. — he begged, offering his hand for her to take it. She did but let go of it the second she was standing. Barry looked at her, a few bruises on her arms and her left cheek red.

He swallowed his questions and his concern. He would take her to a safe place and then he would talk everything out with her, if she'd let him. They left the room and immediately ran into the body of Barry's previous victims.

— Damn, you killed him! — said Hank with a smile on his face when they ran into the bodies at the end of the hall.

— Yeah. — Hayley felt sick, Barry had done that, his boyfriend killed those guys, and the ones in the room, and, according to what Hank and Fuches talked in front of her, he had killed many more, for God knows how long.

They turned on the corner and they stopped, following Barry's lead — Wait, doesn't that mean that you're the next in line to, uh, manage all of this?

— Oh, no, no, no. — he laughed — They know I'm soft. — he smiled, sweetly, and looked at Hayley who only gave him a confused and panicked look — Yeah, we're screwed.

— And your guys? — Barry asked Cristobal.

— The ones that you didn't kill the other time ran away. — Hayley gave Barry a worried and confused look as she mouthed to herself "The other time?" Barry just avoided her gaze.

— Great, so we're alone out here. — he mumbled, looking around the corner to see if someone was coming.

— Yeah, but we have you. — Hank chimed making everyone look at him with a puzzled look making him explain — You know, with all that John Wick shit you do.

— I don't want to do that.

— Why not? You did it to get in. — he laughed shortly, looking at the other members of the party, as if to check if he was saying something crazy — I mean, look at that motherfucker, — he pointed in the distance to a guy with his brains blown out on the floor. Everyone looked while Barry closed his eyes to find for some sort of hiding place as he heard Hayley murmur "Oh my God" — you did that. — he laughed, which only made Berkman angrier.

— Shut the fuck up. — he mumbled, watching his tone around Hayley but still sounding harsh.

— What? You did. — he said, amused until he saw the threatening look Barry was giving him, his smile faded — I'll shut up.

Barry nodded and thought of a way to get out — I'll go ahead, you follow loosely behind and move when I tell you to. — he grabbed the gun he still had on the back of his belt and gave it to Hank who pinched it between his index and thumb like of it was a dirty tissue — You see someone, shoot, don't hesitate.

Cristobal grabbed the gun from Hank's hand — I got it, corazón. — he said softly before grabbing it right, checking the clip and putting a bullet in the chamber.

— Alright, let's go. — they moved fast through the building, barely escaping in time.

They all ride on Barry's car, the first ten minutes were spent with Cristobal checking if Hank was ok and kissing him while Hayley and Barry stayed in silence, both in their own state of panic.

— Barry, my friend, would you take us to the airport? — asked Cristobal, leaving a hand in Barry's shoulder and getting him out of his trance.

— Yeah, uh, sure. — he nodded and thought of the route as Cristobal released the grip on his shoulder — Where are you guys going?

— Who knows! — exclaimed NoHo, grabbing Cristobal's hands as they looked for a second into the other's eyes — We'll just get away from all of this and start fresh. — he said, like if it was something they had already discussed because they did, they had once discussed it as an impossible dream that it was coming truth.

— Anything for you, mi amor. — he whispered and Hank was left in a sight that made Barry look at Hayley, like if he was saying "I'd do the same for you" but she wasn't looking at him, she was looking straight ahead, arms around herself, silent. Hayley was never silent. And Barry felt guilty. He had made her feel whatever she was feeling - and it was obviously not good.

He drove them to the airport, which was basically empty — Do you guys have money? — asked Barry, suddenly concerned by their future well being.

Hank laid his arms on Barry's rolled down window and nodded. We transferred a shit-ton of money to Cristobal's account, it'll be enough. — he smiled and looked at Hayley, who was still trying to understand everything she saw, and then looked back at his friend — Are you gonna be ok Bary? — Barry gave him a tight smile, not really knowing what to answer, Hank returned it and taped twice on the door before stretching his hand to a middle point between them — The debt has been paid. — Barry took his hand and shook it shortly, telling him the debt was paid on his side too before driving off, leaving them behind to go wherever they wanted to.

Hayley didn't asked him to but he started driving to her apartment. When they got there he stopped the car and left his hands on his legs waiting for her to talk, but she didn't — Are you ok?

It took her a moment to register the words but then, when she understood what he was asking, she scoffed — Am I ok? — she laughed bitterly again, still not looking at him — Am I fucking ok? Well, I don't know, Barry, you tell me! I was kidnapped, threaten to dead all because you're a, what? A fucking hit-man? — she was doing all sorts of tense hand movements that she ceased to at that very moment, realizing — I guess you fucking are. — she finally looked at him, wide eyed — You killed all of those people. — she mumbled with realization and astonishment than was suddenly pushed aside with anger and some sort of despair — I saw you fucking torture and kill a guy! — she looked straight ahead, and shook her head, tears finally letting loose, but she wasn't sobbing, she wasn't really crying, it was just her tears falling down her cheeks. She stayed in silence for a second collecting her thoughts — Who the hell are you? — she asked, but Barry knew not to answer. She pursed her lips and faced him, a dull look on her eyes — I don't fucking know you. — Barry was about to talk, he moved a little towards her but she backed off, pressing herself to the door — Don't. You don't get to talk, you don't touch me. — she saw him backing away, and settle into his seat. She was about to leave and tell him to never speak to her again and threatening him so he would leave the class, but something dawned on her, something he had said when he killed that guy and the idea of Gene — You killed Janice. — she whispered, almost as an afterthought but knew she was right when he flinched and closed his eyes like he always did when he was overwhelmed — Holy fuck. — she panicked, all those times they talked about it, all those days looking for her, all the time she spent with him suddenly weighing down on her like rocks tied to her feet as she was sinking in a lake — I- I can't. — she said, opening the car door with shaky hands.

— Hayley, wait. — he said, getting out of the car and following her but she stopped him before he was less than three feet from her.

— No. Stop it! — she said, turning around to see him. He seemed defenseless, it made Hayley wonder how he could do that, how could he look so defenseless and vulnerable when he still had someone's blood on his face? How could he seem like she was about to rip his heart out when an hour before he seemed to note have one? — I don't ever want to see you again. And if you talk to me or anyone from class I will call the police and tell Gene what you did. — he backed away and nodded looking hesitantly at her.

She nodded and walked away, thinking back on all of the things that had happened that day, she still hadn't wrapped her mind around any of it.

Barry saw he walk away, feeling his heart sink with every step she took.

[kpopaeipathy]

When the Curtain Falls (BTS Oneshot)

Pairing: No Romantic Pairings

Genre: Angst (NC-17)

Summary: Taehyung is a non-professional tagger. His stepfather, who is a police officer, uses that to incriminate him for burglary and send him to a reformatory where he meets the other members of BTS. The boys leave the reformatory one by one before Taehyung, who only leaves when he’s about to turn 18. Upon returning home, he finds his stepfather beating his mother and reacts violently. This makes the stepfather even more furious with Taehyung, who runs away and gathers with his friends (BTS members) to get around the situation. While the stepfather incriminates Taehyung his violent act, the boys seek evidence to clear Taehyung and perhaps save his mother.

Word Count: 26k

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, underage, hyyh typical violence, implied/referenced child abuse, youth violence, physical fighting, domestic violence, blood, framing.

Playlist

A/N:  This is for @hyyhbigbang and it is co-written with @dihcorrea. We're sorry that the end is kind of fast but we were struggling to get it done in time, or else it'd be a giant story. We hope you like it. Moodboards and playlist were created by the amazing @hungline (We loved them all, thank you so much <3). Crossposted on AO3.

----

"Won’t it be weird to be out there again?" Yoongi asked. Unlike the others, he was the only one staring at the door where Seokjin and Hoseok would be leaving soon.

"Probably," replied Seokjin, smiling at how his friend was trying to conceal how worried he was about saying farewell. Of all the friends he made at the reform school, Yoongi had been the first and the most different from him. It was still hard for Seokjin to believe that they had become great friends simply because they shared a room and respected each other's space. "But I’ll manage it," he finished, finally attracting Yoongi's gaze.

If there was something that Yoongi knew all too well, it was Seokjin’s adaptive nature of Seokjin. The older boy knew full well how to use his beauty and charm to make things easier for him. Everyone knew that it was that "skill" that had put him in the reform school, but Seokjin had never seen it as a bad thing; it was simply the way he had found to live the life he’d had before entering the reformatory. Even then, inside the facility, his ability had helped everyone he had become friends with. Mainly Hoseok, since it was Seokjin’s charm and Namjoon’s intelligence that revealed the true culprit of the crime for which he was incriminated for.

"I can’t believe I'm not gonna see you again," Jungkook complained. The troublemaker was the youngest in the group and was practically adopted as their mascot, but he liked to treat others as if they were the same age as him.

"I wouldn’t worry about that," Seokjin replied. "We’re not the best influence for a kid like you."

"I'm not a kid," Jungkook complained, slapping the older boy's hand just as he was about to mess up his hair.

"Actually," Hoseok interrupted, holding Jungkook by the neck to mess his hair too, "I think the kid’s right. Why don’t we try to keep in touch after we get out of here?"

It was not exactly a bad idea. After all, everyone had entered the reform school so young, and for some reason everyone had become good friends, perhaps even best friends. For some of them, those boys were the only true friends they ever had in their lives. Keeping in touch after they separated seemed to be worth it. Besides, some of them were so troublesome that they might need help even outside the reform school.

It was what Yoongi thought as he looked back at the exit door. But this time he was not the only one who looked at that door with concern. Taehyung was also afraid to get out of there and go back to his own house. As bad as the reformatory was, he had found good people there--people who counseled and helped him. Outside, he had practically only seen violence and pain.

"Whatever," Seokjin shrugged, grabbing a business card inside the backpack he was taking with him out of the reform school and placing it in the Taehyung’s hand, startling him. "This is the gas station telephone next to my house. Just call and ask for me. They'll find me."

Seokjin's complacent smile and the fact that he had put the paper in Taehyung's hand made the younger boy uncomfortable. Everyone there knew, including him, that he would be the most likely to seek help from others, but Taehyung did not like to think he would be weak again. If he were to meet his friends again, it would not be out of fear, but for nostalgia.

"Since I have no pen here," Hoseok said, "Someone's gonna have to remember my address."

Automatically, everyone looked at Namjoon, who simply raised his eyebrows and complained, "The fact that I'm good with computers doesn’t mean I have the best memory."

Regardless of what his friend had just said, Hoseok spoke his address aloud for all of them to hear. If Namjoon did not remember everything, surely the others would be able to help. When he turned back to the hacker again, however, Namjoon simply nodded, proving that everyone was right to think he would be able to remember the address without difficulty.

Hoseok simply smiled. Namjoon was very intelligent, but extremely modest. Hoseok did not care about it, since he only cared about the health and freedom of his friends. He had been unjustly imprisoned as well as half of the others, but it was Namjoon who had helped him find his own freedom, so Hoseok would do anything to help the others too, regardless of the crime they had committed or not.

"I wanted to know if they're going to be sad when I leave," Jimin commented, tapping Jungkook's arm, who seemed to be on the verge of tears. Jungkook sniffled, still trying to appear tough in front of his hyungs even with snot dripping down his nose. The younger could be brave and quarrelsome, but he was very emotional.

"I'm leaving first, so they’re gonna miss me more," Yoongi commented.

Snorting, Jimin shrugged but said nothing else. He also did not like goodbyes and would miss all the friends he had made in that place.

"Time to go!"

They looked at the guard who waited for Seokjin and Hoseok with the gate open. After a year forming a bond that seemed too strong to be broken, it was finally time for them to separate.

Everyone was sad to see the two friends leave, but that was only the first of the farewells. Three months later, Yoongi would be holding his own bundle of clothes, ready to leave the place that had kept him safe for a few years.

Again, he stared at the gate while the others complained and talked about how they would miss him. Yoongi was not afraid of leaving, or at least that was what he had thought during the three months between Seokjin’s and Hoseok’s departure and his own. He was not afraid of the world outside the reformatory. In fact, he was afraid of what he would do while he was out loose in the world. He had already erred once, even if unintentionally, so what would keep him from making a mistake again?

"You don’t have to worry," Jungkook's voice made the older man turn to him. "When you think of strange things, just remember what I told ya."

Yoongi smiled as soon as Jungkook finished speaking, which elicited an even bigger smile on the young man's face. Jungkook, when he was welcomed by the group, felt that he had a new family, so he did not regard others simply as his friends, he considered them all as older brothers. They were the ones who had helped him overcome his anger and feel free even though he had been locked away. So whenever he had the opportunity, he also tried to help the others.

The advice he'd given Yoongi was more of a reminder than advice. When he discovered that Yoongi was a pyromaniac, Jungkook tried to think of the best way to prevent his friend from becoming fascinated with the fire again. "Fire, in any situation, is like me when I’m angry. It’ll only destroy everything in its path," he had said, making Yoongi smile whenever he was reminded of his fascination and of Jungkook.

"I'll never forget," Yoongi assured the younger. Then he handed his phone number to Jungkook and said that he and the others could meet him at the shelter. That was the best he could do to keep in touch.

Again, the farewell was sad, but it was not the last. Another three months and Jimin was prepared to return to the world outside the reform school. This time, Jungkook could not hold back the tears.

"Hey, boy," Jimin called to him and wrapped his arms around the younger man's shoulders, "We’ll see each other again, so why’re you crying?"

That made the youngest cry harder. Jimin smiled. He knew the exact reason for Jungkook's tears. It had been Jimin who had supported him and had taught him to control his anger. It had been Jimin who had made him use his knowledge of muay thai for good. Jimin was also afraid to leave the young man alone, but he knew that Jungkook was strong and could move on.

"You'd better give your phone number or address to this boy soon, before he leaves your shirt drenched with so many tears," Taehyung grumbled.

He did not want to get rid of Jimin, but he was also curious to know where the one who looked like a playboy lived. Besides, he did not like to see Jungkook crying. If the strongest of them, despite being the youngest, was able to cry so easily, how would he endure it when it was his turn to return to the real world?

Taehyung still stared nervously at the gate every time his friends left. But he had not yet decided whether he was afraid of what would happen outside or whether he was afraid of what would not happen. Thinking that he would never find the only friends he had ever done in his life was difficult.

"Tae is right," Namjoon agreed, "You better show him right away that you'll see each other again."

Jimin continued to smile and did as he was told. The address of one of the city's most expensive condominiums was put into Jungkook's hands, but the younger one soon lost the paper to Taehyung, who was afraid he would eventually wet it with his tears.

Each time it seemed worse to see the friends going away, especially to Jungkook and Taehyung who were always left behind. When Namjoon was leaving six months later, the two young men seemed to be losing the last healthy limb of their bodies. Namjoon had never seen the two of them with a more sad countenance, though they were holding back the tears very well.

"It looks like someone's dead," Namjoon commented, trying to make a joke, but could not get a smile from either of them. "Hey, I'm just leaving you guys alone for a few months. Why are you like this? It's not like you’ll be alone. You still have each other."

That made Jungkook smile slightly. It was good not to be completely alone in that place. Ever since he had appeared there with a black eye and a great deal of anger to overflow, he had been welcomed by the group, which was not yet fully formed. Although he was the most competent in fighting, the elders always protected him against the other children in the reform school and against himself. Always being with them was a relief.

"I don’t know if this is a good thing," Taehyung grumbled, catching the attention of the two friends. "He's just gonna have me to hit now."

Namjoon laughed, but Jungkook felt a little offended.

"Like I hit you often," he muttered between his teeth.

Namjoon laughed even harder. Of course, Jungkook did not beat them up with anger or quarrel with any of them, but the boy was crude by nature and even his displays of affection could hurt sometimes. Even so, everyone was so fond of the youngest that all the generous "pat" pardoned.

"Just try not to leave him with any bruises," Namjoon managed to say between the laughter.

As it was very rare to see the older man laughing like that, Jungkook ended up joking. He slipped an arm around Taehyung's neck and pulled him against his chest, giving his friend a light chokehold.

"I can’t promise anything," he asserted as Taehyung tapped his arm and tried to break free.

And it was in that spirit that the two young men endured the last two years of their sentences in that place. One protected the other, one taught the other, one confided to the other. At the end of their stay, Jungkook and Taehyung felt that they knew everything about each other. In addition, they set out to record the information on how they could find their friends and promised to continue talking when they were outside. Even if they could not talk to the others, they would not miss each other.

The day they left the reform school, they stood for a long time in front of the gate. Jungkook was not worried because he was sure everything would work out. He was being incredibly optimistic, especially after all he'd learned from friends in the reform school.

Taehyung, on the other hand, was still afraid to take a step forward. He knew he would keep the promise made to his friend to find him and the others. As for the rest, he was not sure of anything.

"Hey, are you okay?" Jungkook asked, seeing Taehyung's worried face.

Shaking his head to get away from the bad thoughts that were beginning to invade his mind, Taehyung smiled at Jungkook and stated that everything was fine.

"Do you wanna go home with me and wait for the best time to come to your house?" Jungkook continued, still surprised by Taehyung's reaction to the exit from the reform school.

Shrugging, Taehyung replied, "I don’t think there's gonna be a better time than this. He must be at work and my mother must be alone at home. I think if I get there now, she'll think of a way to tell him that I came back."

Although Taehyung finally seemed optimistic, Jungkook felt apprehensive. Taehyung was now of age and any quarrel with his stepfather could lead him to jail rather than to reform.

"Well, if you need anything, you can call me," Jungkook said when he heard the horn of his mother's car for the second time. "I gotta go."

"Don’t worry, I’ll be okay," Taehyung smiled as he shook hands with his friend and told him to go his way.

He could not deny that he was a little jealous of seeing Jungkook's mother picking him up from the reform school. He knew that his friend was a minor and needed a responsible person to get him, and that he was already of age and did not need this kind of authorization, but still, he wished his mother had come to see him.

Did she remember that he was leaving that day? Was she all right? Was she still thinking about him? Was she still alive?

All those questions passing through his head made Taehyung swallow hard. There was only one way to know the answer to all that. He only prayed that he would find her alone at home so she could respond.

Taking a deep breath, he went his own way, forgetting his friends as he thought of everything he might end up finding when he got to the apartment where his mother and stepfather lived.

Could he stay there? Would his stepfather let him stay? Would he willingly accept him or would he be drunk and aggressive as he usually was? And if he could not stay, how could he find another place? Where could he get a job? Where were he going to sleep?

All the friends he had made in the reform school offered him their own houses to stay in, but Taehyung knew that half of them could not help him because they still lived with their parents, and the other half was probably as stressed with money as he could get.

It seemed that all the worries he had left aside while he was with friends in the reform school bombed his head as soon as he set foot outside the facility. When he stopped in front of the door of his stepfather's apartment, he was already having a headache and biting his lips with concern.

He took a deep breath and held the doorknob, making sure the door was not locked. He planted a smile on his face, knowing that his mother would like to see him cheerfully, and opened the door to the scene he hated most in the world.

His stepfather's hand cut the air like a sharp blade and struck the left side of Taehyung's mother's face. The force of the blow was so great that the woman went off balance, tripping over her own feet and falling to the floor on one arm while using the other to shield her face in a reflex.

What happened next didn’t last more than a minute.

Taehyung saw his mother's face turn red, contrasting with other old, dark bruises on her neck and arms. Taehyung's own vision reddened with fury and he took a deep breath as he looked around the room.

Beside the door, above the shoe rack, which contained his stepfather's many shoes compared to a single pair of his mother's high heels, there were three empty beer bottles. Without thinking twice, Taehyung took one of them and advanced into the room, toward his stepfather who still ignored his presence and was now kicking his mother's ribs.

With a movement practically reflecting the stepfather's first blow, Taehyung cut the air with the bottle and struck it at the top of the stepfather's head.

Taken by surprise, the man took a second to realize the seriousness of the blow, and his own brain had a slight delay in switching adrenaline for pain, making the man slightly dizzy and disoriented.

When he noticed that his stepfather turned away from his mother, Taehyung, still blinded with anger, reflected another blow from the aggressor and hit his stepfather's belly with what was left of the bottle in his hand. With that blow, the man was completely disarmed and looked deeply into Taehyung's eyes as he swallowed and held both hands to Taehyung's hand that still held the shard of the glass bottle against his body.

Taehyung was also looking into his stepfather's eyes, which were no longer higher than his own since they were now about the same height, and could not help notice when they suddenly clouded. Blinking, Taehyung seemed to regain consciousness. His eyes widened and he tried to drop the shard of the bottle, but the hands around his prevented it.

As he looked down, he came across the blood. Blinking rapidly a few times, Taehyung's lips began to tremble, as well as his hands, when he used his free hand to remove his stepfather's hands from over his.

Once free, Taehyung stepped back, staring in amazement at his red-stained hands.

He then heard a groan of pain ahead of him, and glanced at his stepfather in time to see him try to step back and trip over his own foot, falling to the glass coffee table and splintering it beneath himself.

Taehyung was still struggling with his own conscience to help or not the fallen man in front of him when he heard his mother's battered voice utter his name behind him.

Turning quickly, Taehyung ran to his mother to help her up.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, her nervous eyes searching her son's face for any injuries. That usual gesture of fear and worry hurt Taehyung far more than the fact that his mother had forgotten that he would leave the reformatory that day.

"Mom…"

He didn't have time to clear the lump that was formed in his throat to finish the sentence, as his mother looked behind Taehyung and saw her husband lying on the broken glass of the coffee table, blood staining the police uniform that he wore.

“What happened?” She looked back at Taehyung, who began to shiver again as tears welled up in his brown eyes.

The anguish and fear he saw reflected in his mother's widening eyes only served to make him tremble even more as he looked back at his bloodied hands.

"You have to get out of here," his mother insisted, pushing him toward the door, "Go!"

He tried to refute and stuck his feet on the floor so she wouldn't get him out of the apartment, but his respect and love for his mother prevented him from using any kind of force against her. Although feeling a coward, Taehyung let his mother put him out. Once the door closed between them, tears finally trickled down Taehyung's cheeks and trembling lips.

Then, he ran.

***

Jungkook's parents were more disappointed than sad when their son was arrested for assault. They hoped that Taekwondo would relieve Jungkook's explosive genius rather than burn it down, and when the latter happened, they only asked the divine that the punishment Jungkook would receive was enough to do what taekwondo couldn’t do for the boy.

Since they hoped that their prayers would be answered, Jungkook's parents prepared a welcome party at their home. This was a party Jungkook had not expected and could not enjoy, for his mind was still caught in the expression of doubt on Taehyung's face as they left the reform school.

As much as he wanted to feel good about being free and to have fun listening to his old friends tell him about what happened to them while he was in the reform school, Jungkook was easily distracted by the feeling that something bad would happen to Taehyung.

When his cell phone rang, Jungkook answered hurriedly, and when he heard Taehyung's breath and choppy voice on the other end of the line, he was sure his intuition was right.

"Hyung, what's up?" Jungkook asked worriedly. The sense of foreboding escalates as the hesitation from Taehyung's end worries Jungkook even more. If Taehyung asked, he is sure that he would drop everything to help his friend.

"I just wanted to know if everything was alright out there," Taehyung said. “Was everyone happy with your return?”

As much as he wanted to believe his friend, Jungkook knew something was wrong. Of course, they had promised to keep in touch, but neither of them believed they would talk anytime soon, especially if it was just to ask if all was well.

“Are you sure that's all? It sounds like you’re running,” Jungkook asked and heard another pause in the older boy's response.

"I'm fine," he replied, "Mom asked me to go buy something to celebrate my return, so I'm running."

It wasn’t just the breathless running that was upsetting Jungkook, but also his friend's lies; Jungkook could practically hear the lump in Taehyung's throat and hear the tears fighting to leave his eyes.

"Hyung, please," he insisted, "Tell me what's going on."

One more pause, “It’s nothing, I promise. I'll call you later.”

With that, Taehyung ended the call.

Jungkook didn't know what to do. He knew something was wrong and that Taehyung had just lied to him, but he could do nothing but call his friend and try to find out what was going on, or at least find out where Taehyung was running to. However, he did not believe Taehyung would say even if he insisted.

Because he couldn't rush out of the house and roam the streets looking for Taehyung, Jungkook decided it was best to talk to someone who could make Taehyung talk. Jungkook searched for the new numbers he had saved on his cell phone as soon as he got it back from the reform school, and as soon as he found Seokjin's number, he called his friend.

As Seokjin had explained to them upon being released, the gas station attendant answered the phone. Quickly, Jungkook asked for his older friend and the attendant promptly replied that he would talk to Seokjin to return the call.

Without really having anything to do, Jungkook hung up and waited for Seokjin's call while pretending to be interested in the party his parents had prepared for him. It wasn't that he didn't want to have fun with family or old friends, but one of his new - and more troublesome - friends was in trouble and he would rather help him than stay there pretending like nothing was happening.

So, just to do something, Jungkook tried another of the new numbers on his cell phone and called Yoongi. Unfortunately, his friend was also absent. The shelter girl who answered informed him that Yoongi was out working and would not be back until later, but she would deliver the message and Yoongi could return his call. Jungkook gave his cell number to the shelter girl and hung up.

Jungkook would wait. He would tell his friends everything as soon as they return his calls, but he needed to find someone who could act faster. Much faster. So he looked again at the new saved phones and called Namjoon, which would be his last hope. If his friend did not answer and none of them return his call within half an hour, he would change tactics and go to Hoseok’s or Jimin's house for his friends to help him.

***

The “No Unauthorized Entry” warning was not enough to stop Taehyung from breaking into the abandoned building, let alone the lock that secured the gate grilles. Since the chain was wide, the opening Taehyung got by pulling one side of the gate was enough for him to pass through. At that moment, he didn't care about the illegality of his act; he just wanted to hide for a moment.

After being thrown out of the apartment by his mother and making the unexplained call to Jungkook, Taehyung still ran a couple of blocks until he found the abandoned building.

He wasn't thinking straight when he called Jungkook. Luckily he managed to hold back and not ruin the big reception that was going on at Jungkook's house.

When he saw the abandoned building, Taehyung didn’t think either. He had nowhere to go, so that building seemed like a good place to hide from what he had just done. However, Taehyung had sat down to collect his thoughts for only a minute when he realized that he had been foolish to think that he would forget his sins.

His hands were still bloody and it made him despair again. He started rubbing his hands together, but he realized his clothes were also stained with blood. Fortunately, he had not found anyone on the way from his house to the abandoned building, so no one had noticed that he was so bloody.

Taehyung continued rubbing his hands and clothes, trying to remove the blood that kept him from forgetting that he might have killed his stepfather - and even if he had not, he had certainly hurt him badly. Regardless of whether he did that to protect his mother, it didn't change the fact that he'd attacked someone. Nothing would change the fact that he, for a moment of fury and insanity, had become what he hated most: a violent person.

It was only when his cell phone rang, echoing on the unfinished walls of the empty building, that Taehyung stopped trying to wipe off his stepfather's blood.

He glanced at the display to see who was calling, but he couldn't see anything because his eyes were already watering. He answered anyway, thinking it might be his mother or Jungkook. He needed to tell everyone that he was fine.

The voice he heard on the other end, however, had nothing to do with his mother's delicate, feminine voice or Jungkook's soft, husky voice.

"Taehyung, where are you?"

That call was the last straw for Taehyung. Tears streamed down his cheeks again, and even if he tried to control his sobs, he knew that the moment he answered he couldn't hide anything from the person on the other side.

"Hyung," Taehyung said, his naturally strong voice was weak and even he could hear the lump in his throat, "I miss you."

After that sentence, Taehyung said nothing more. He simply cried. It was as if each tear fell for a different reason. He cried because he really missed the only friends he made in his life; he cried because he wanted to be with his mother, because he wanted her to be safe, because he wanted not to attack his stepfather, and because he didn't really regret it - his mother's security was much more important.

Taehyung cried for a long time and his friend on the phone said nothing, just listened to him cry until the sobs stopped and Taehyung's breathing settled. He still gave Taehyung time to calm down, and only then did he repeat the question with which he initiated the call.

"I'm in an abandoned building three blocks from my house," Taehyung replied, rubbing his face to wipe away the remaining tears on his skin.

After giving his stepfather's apartment's address to his friend, Taehyung hung up the phone with the promise that he wouldn't leave until his friends showed up to see him. Since he had nowhere to go, Taehyung didn't find it difficult to make that promise, much less keep it. But it wasn't until the next morning that Taehyung had other news from his friends.

It was the noise of the gate chain that woke him up, and for a moment Taehyung thought that the contractors had decided to resume construction right now that he needed the empty building. That’s just my luck, he thought. But when he heard the voices of the people coming in and apparently teasing each other, Taehyung let out a breath he didn't even notice he was holding, and his muscles immediately relaxed.

"Taehyung, where are you?" Seokjin's baritone voice reverberated on the walls, and Taehyung smiled.

Watching his friends together again reminded Taehyung of the year they spent together in the reform school strengthening that bond of friendship, and he almost forgot why everyone was there. However, it would be impossible to forget what had happened the day before, at least for a long time.

As soon as they saw him, Taehyung's friends reacted differently; trying not to freak Taehyung out, they controlled their surprise and worry, but Taehyung could see one thing was shared in all expressions: empathy. With a weak smile, Taehyung tried to hide his own feelings. It was that empathy he was afraid of; it was because of that empathy that he was reluctant to contact his friends after what he did.

Jimin sat on the floor next to Taehyung, though "throwing himself at Taehyung’s side" was a more appropriate expression. Though he was unable to smile from his swirling thoughts and feelings, Taehyung struggled to show his friend a funny expression.

"Here," said Seokjin, coming closer and extending something wrapped in paper towards him. "I thought you might be hungry."

Taehyung curiously opened the package and found some muffins and stuffed breads. Jungkook approached and sat on the other side of his friend, knowing that Jimin would not walk away. In a natural, almost unconscious gesture, Taehyung held out a muffin to the younger, like he always did in the reform school.

One by one, everyone set on the dirty floor.

"How are you doing?" Yoongi asked, leaning forward.

Taehyung looked up from the muffin he was eating, his mouth full and cheeks prominent as he chewed. Taehyung’s brown eyes were as confused as those of a child hearing the signal indicating the end of recess.

"Did you get hurt?" Yoongi asked again and this time pointed to Taehyung's bloodstained clothes. The younger one blinked twice before responding with a forlorn nod. Of course, his friends would worry that he was injured, and Yoongi wouldn't simply ask if he was fine soon after seeing him bloody waking up in an abandoned building. It was obvious that something was wrong, but the second oldest in the group seemed to be content with the silent answer.

"We won’t ask what happened," Hoseok comforted, "You don't have to tell us if you don't want to."

"You can tell us when you feel ready," Jimin said, but corrected himself as Taehyung's eyes shifted from Hoseok to him, "I mean, if you feel ready." He emphasized the word "if.”

"Or we can just set fire to the house of the people who did this to you," Yoongi commented, shrugging as if that were a normal suggestion. But it was the scolding look of the other boys that made Yoongi tell Taehyung to forget what he had just said.

If his stepfather's apartment were not the same as his mother's, perhaps Taehyung might even have considered that idea, but thinking that it might come out worse than the attack on his stepfather, he preferred to be quiet and let his friends refute Yoongi's idea.

"I..." Taehyung looked at all the faces around him. No one had expected him to talk so fast, not even him. But as soon as the first word came out of his mouth in a deep, husky voice, a flurry of words ensued. It wasn't like the night before when tears created a lump in his throat and he could do nothing but cry. No – this time, the words seemed to have a life of their own and came out without him having to think about them.

Taehyung told them how he got home and how much he wanted to meet his mother again, and how he almost stopped breathing when he found his stepfather assaulting her. He told them that he couldn't think of anything but how much he needed to stop his stepfather and his own actions, those thoughts had also gone muddy in the whirlwind in his mind.

He re-lived every second and, as if in a trance, he began frantically rubbing his hands together to try to wipe away the now-dried blood.

Jimin took one of his hands while Jungkook took the other, trying to stop him from rubbing them, but he barely noticed. When he finished speaking, his breath came out as if he had run all the way back there.

"Ok. At least now we know what happened," Jungkook said, just to break the silence.

"But, guys, I..." Taehyung started, but was interrupted by Jin.

"No, you don't really know what happened after you left," commented the eldest, "And it doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that you're here and you're fine, and we'll take care of you."

"Which brings us to another matter. Taehyung can't stay here," Namjoon said and looked around, but everyone waited patiently for him to finish. "This place is not even a little bit appropriate for living. There is nothing he might need and..."

"I can't go home," Taehyung fussed. "All that blood and... if he's dead, I..."

Everyone else shushed him together, putting a finger to their lips in a gesture to tell their friend to shut up.

"Who says you’re going to your house?" Namjoon asked. "That's not what I was talking about."

In a second, the younger ones started to play and mock, teasing Taehyung and the older ones. Then everything seemed lighter and simpler, as it only seemed when the seven of them were together. For a while, Taehyung allowed himself to enjoy his friends' presence even though he couldn't forget everything else. At least now his friends were there and he felt stronger knowing he had their support.

None of them paid attention to the time. At one point, one of his friends had loaned Taehyung a coat so he could get rid of the bloody clothes, but no one could tell how much time had passed before or after that.

“We must find a decent place for you to take a shower and get rid of the rest of this blood,” Hoseok said before they left the building. Taehyung felt lighter and freer knowing that he could open up to his friends.

The seven walked the city streets as if they had no worries in the world. The day was sunny, the sun was so bright that it seemed to be helping the boys cheer up Taehyung.

Even with the small breakfast Seokjin had provided, by that time everyone was hungry again, but no one paid attention to it despite the growling stomachs.

Despite the busy hours and streets, people walking around at their lunch hour didn't notice or simply didn't care about the seven young people walking around.

They talked, laughed, and joked, and Taehyung had finally started to interact more, putting his worries aside with some effort. The walk to Namjoon's house was not difficult in the company of friends, even though Namjoon did not exactly live near Taehyung's house.

No one noticed when Jungkook stopped walking and almost stuck his nose in the window of a store, so close his breath was steaming up the glass. It was a large electronics store, and in the front there were several large TVs with crisp, bright images.

Jungkook wasn’t interested in buying a TV or any other electronic product. He didn't have to be glazed to the window of such a store if he wanted something. His family was not as rich as Jimin's, but his parents had enough money to buy whatever he asked, and he didn't have to covet a TV like that since he had a very similar one at home. No, Jungkook was not interested in the devices, but in the images that were shown on each of them.

"Hyung," Jungkook called without even looking at the others. His black eyes didn't leave the screens on the other side of the glass. He did not want to miss any part of the news.

Of course the others had no way of knowing which one Jungkook was calling, since they were all older than him, but no one cared or asked any questions. Everyone turned at the younger boy's voice, as they would have done even if he called someone's name. When they realized that they had already walked a few steps, they approached him, alternating glances between Jungkook's serious face and the window.

Jungkook pointed to the glass-exposed TVs without saying anything else. He didn't need to say anything, he thought. The pictures would say for him.

On all TVs, the images were the same: the news. At first no one seemed alarmed or surprised. They were only curious because Jungkook had found something interesting enough to call them, but that was before they heard what the reporter was saying.

"After being found injured in his own home, the policeman was taken to the nearest hospital, where he spent a few hours in surgery. Doctors reported that there was no complication during the procedure and the patient spent little time in the ICU because he woke up quickly after the effects of the anesthesia had passed. His condition is not critical at the moment, but he will continue to stay at the hospital for further care." The reporter's well-trained voice came out strong and calm, despite the macabre content of the news story.

Taehyung felt his heart skip a beat, his brown eyes wide and his mouth half open, but he didn't believe he could really express what he was feeling. A mixture of relief and panic invaded him like an avalanche.

He didn't need to hear the cop's name to know that the woman was talking about his stepfather. Nor did he need to watch the pictures on TV to know what the cop's house was like when he was found, because it was all etched in his mind, the most vivid memories he wouldn’t like to have.

But if the man was alive, it meant that Taehyung did not have to carry the weight of his life (or death) on his shoulders. He could handle the guilt of injuring his stepfather in a moment of fury and desperation to defend his mother, but he was not a killer.

Relief brought tears to his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He had cried too much that morning. Besides, what would happen now? His stepfather wasn't exactly the most understanding person in the world, and judging by the things he'd already done, he wouldn't avoid a chance to tell that it was Taehyung who had hurt him. The same fear that had made his heart skip a beat now made it beat faster.

Taehyung forced himself to ignore his own thoughts and pay attention to what was happening on the screen.

Images of the hospital had changed, and now everyone could see a couple in a studio, sitting behind a half-moon table of polished wood and marble with a big screen behind them that read "POLICE ATTACKED AT HOME."

Taehyung swallowed hard. He had a strong feeling about how this was going to end.

"According to the victim’s testimony to the police this morning, the attack’s perpetrator was his own stepson, who allegedly used a broken glass bottle to injure him in a sudden attack of rage," the reporter explained.

"The victim states that the stepson has a history of violence and an aversion for rules, and the police are engaged in the investigation and search for Kim Taehyung, the victim's stepson," continued the other reporter with a blank expression. 

A picture of Taehyung appeared on the screen as the reporter spoke. The brown hair was a little shorter in the photo than it actually was, since it was an old photo. Then the image changed and a blond man who was in his late thirties appeared on the screen wearing a police uniform.

"We are not going to let such an attack go unpunished," the blond policeman spoke harshly. "An attack on a police officer is, in addition to a crime, a disrespect to the authorities of this city. If this continues, no one else will be safe. A troubled young man can't go around doing whatever he wants," his voice was louder now, more angry. "Let's do our colleague justice by protecting this city."

Taehyung couldn't believe that they were distorting everything! These journalists just passed on the information they received, but they were not right. They had been modified or were incomplete, and the police were saying the same things as his stepfather. Taehyung knew that, but he couldn't help feeling frustrated. His stepfather was a police officer and had enough power to influence the entire department. The police, in turn, were contaminating the media. Taehyung understood that the consequence of all this would be that no one else would believe him, much less want to know his side of the story. Now everyone would see him as a troubled, violent young man who hurt people for no reason.

These thoughts were only reaffirmed when the TV image changed again, this time showing his picture on one side and the reporter on the other.

"Kim Taehyung was convicted of theft just over three years ago and has just left the reform school, his departure coinciding with his 18th birthday. As an adult, Kim Taehyung seems to have become more violent. We ask that you be careful, but if you see him or have any information that can help with the investigation, please contact the police. Your identities will be protected and you will not be in any danger from such contact." Just as the woman finished her sentence, the aforementioned phone number for the police appeared below the screen.

"Investigation my ass!" Jungkook was outraged. "I doubt they want to investigate anything. They've decided to blame Tae for everything."

"I said we should set his house on fire," Yoongi said in a serious tone. He didn't seem to be kidding, and his friends knew him well enough to know it wasn't even a joke. Everyone looked at him very seriously. "What?" He continued. "I doubt he’d be doing all this if he had to put out the fire of that cowardly ass."

"Maybe they don't know what kind of people they're dealing with," Jimin thought aloud. "Maybe he lied to his colleagues in the police department and they don't know who he really is."

"Regardless, it's no longer safe for Tae to be on the street. Anyone can decide to report him. We need to get him to a safe place and think about what to do," Hoseok concluded.

As soon as Hoseok finished speaking, the door to the electronics store opened, accompanied by the sound of a bell ringing. A salesman came out wearing jeans and a blue polo shirt with the store logo stamped in his left pocket. The seven young men struggled to act naturally, but those who knew them would know that it was unnatural for Yoongi's small eyes to be so wide open.

"Can I help you?" The man asked with a smile, and Namjoon knew he didn't suspect a thing. Either the man was not good at remembering faces or had not seen the news. Anyway, Namjoon chose not to risk it.

"Not really. Thank you," Namjoon replied with a small forced smile that showed his dimples. "We were just looking." To his friends, he whispered, "Let's go."

They had better get out before the salesman recognized Taehyung. And there they were again, heading for Namjoon's house.

Maybe it was the fear of someone recognizing Taehyung wandering the street, but the boys practically ran to Namjoon's house. They arrived exhausted, hungry and thirsty. It was no surprise that they decided to eat and drink before they started talking about what was going on. Besides, no one really wanted to get back to the subject. Each of them was thinking of a less intrusive and disturbing way to bring the issue to Taehyung and remind him of everything that had happened to him. Taehyung, on the other hand, didn’t want to involve his friends more than he had already involved in his problems.

This was a delicate moment and no one was in a hurry, after all, no one wanted to make it worse. So, they silently ate the food Seokjin and Yoongi prepared for them. There was no joke or attempt to improve the mood, as had happened until they found out what had happened after Taehyung left his stepfather's house.

Finally, after everyone had finished their meal and was having some beer - except Taehyung who simply looked at the beer bottle in his hand and remembered what he had done - Hoseok decided to say something.

“I think we should do something to bring out the truth.” It was rare to see Hoseok so serious, as he was usually the most excitable out of all of them. “We can't let Taehyung be incriminated for something he didn't do.”

"As if that hadn't happened before," Taehyung grunted, but his comment was ignored by the others.

"Hobi hyung is right," Jimin agreed, "It's not fair for Tae to be arrested for something so serious when nothing they are saying is true."

"It makes no difference," Taehyung grunted again and was ignored.

“Maybe I have an idea on how to do that,” Namjoon said, causing everyone to look hopefully in his eyes, except for Taehyung, who kept analyzing the beer bottle as if it had been the bottle he had used for hurting his stepfather.

"Tell us." It was Seokjin's turn to grumble, but he wasn't as discouraged as Taehyung, so he wasn't ignored.

"We know Taehyung has been wrongly accused before," explained Namjoon, "and that it was all a trick of his stepfather."

"It's true," Jungkook agreed, remembering all the stories he had heard from Taehyung about the case that had taken him to the reform school. “He was charged with theft by one of the owners of the house he was hired to graffiti on.”

"Exactly," continued Namjoon.

"And what does this have to do with the present case?" Yoongi asked. Although he was playing with his lighter and not even looking at his friends, he was paying more attention than they could imagine.

"It has to do with the fact that they’re using his past against him," Namjoon explained. “Having a police record is always a high point in becoming a suspect. With that and the fact that he has his stepfather against him, Taehyung doesn't have much chance of having someone by his side. If we can prove that he was wronged in both cases, he’ll have a chance to be heard.”

“I might know someone who can help us,” Hoseok added, “if we can get this evidence.”

All of Taehyung's friends began to agree, seeing in Namjoon's suggestion the perfect, though incomplete, plan to rid Taehyung of that accusation and possible imprisonment, or of a life in hiding.

"I told you it won't work!" Taehyung shouted this time, as his grumblings were being ignored. The bottle in his hand hit the table hard, but fortunately he didn't break it and wasn't hurt by the gesture.

Everyone looked at him in astonishment, but all Taehyung saw was empathy returning to his friends’ eyes. He was fed up with that empathy.

"Don't you get it?" He complained, his eyes once again filling with tears and his hands shaking. “None of this will work! No one will believe me, no one will doubt my stepfather's word! Do you think I never tried to report him for assaulting my mother? Do you think I didn't try to say that I had done nothing wrong when they accused me of theft? No one ever believes me if he's on the other side accusing me. None of this will work!”

Taehyung wanted his friends to understand and move away. He didn’t even want to stay at Namjoon's house, because if he were ever found, his friend would be accused of hiding a criminal. He believed with all his might that he had no chance against his stepfather, and seeing his friends try to help him, knowing it would be in vain, was difficult for him to see. His friends' startled glances made Taehyung feel even worse.

"And stop looking at me like that," he grunted again and went back to analyzing the beer bottle; he was getting tired. “You don't have to feel sorry for me and think I'm scared or something. I just don't want you to get involved in this anymore than you already are.”

A silence fell over the room, along with a tension so thick that a knife could cut through it.

“Are you nuts?!” Yoongi's voice cut the tension and startled his friends, including Taehyung who stared at him wide-eyed.

No one had ever seen Yoongi be so incisive. Usually the second oldest in the group seemed to be thinking of something else, always with a neutral expression and eyes wandering as he watched the fire or the horizon. They knew their friend paid attention to what they said, but he never did anything but make a quick suggestion or ask a question that urged others to speak for him. That outburst of indignation was new to everyone.

"No one here is sorry for you," Yoongi said, his voice louder than usual. "Of course, what’s happening is not fair, but we’re not sorry for you because we know you’re able to get over it with your head held high, as you did last time."

"We’re your friends, Tae," Seokjin added with a slight smile on his thick lips. He was the only one who could dare to interrupt Yoongi, such was their trust in each other because they were cellmates - and the fact that Seokjin was older also helped a little. “We’ll do everything we can to help you through this, as you did everything you could to help us when we were in reform school.”

“Besides,” Namjoon added, “we're already tangled in it, so there's no point in running away or pretending there’s nothing happening.”

Taehyung was still shocked by what Yoongi said, so he didn't have the nerve to interrupt his friends. Besides, he knew that if it was any of the others in his situation, he would do the same and feel the same way, so he couldn't blame his friends or stop them from helping.

"Tae," Jimin called, causing his friend to finally stop staring at Yoongi, who was still looking at Taehyung with an annoyed expression. "I know how you feel. I know fighting this is tiring and it seems better to let it go. But you, like all of us, know that hiding the truth is harmful not only to you but to others as well. What will happen to your mother if you keep quiet and get arrested again? What will happen to us if you don't speak up this time?”

Taehyung frowned as he considered what he had just heard. He didn't want to involve anyone in his troubles, but remembering what he saw his stepfather do to his mother while he wasn't around made his heart clench in his chest. Jimin was right; hiding the truth would not only harm him, as Taehyung first believed, it would harm his mother and friends, the only people who liked him and protected him.

"We can do it, Tae," Hoseok said cheerfully, trying to relieve the stress and irritation from his friends. “I know someone who’ll listen to you and make others do the same. We just need to find the evidence, and I know we can find it for your cases like we did for mine.”

"And now that we're out here," Jungkook added, "it will be even easier than when we were stuck in the reform school."

Hoseok's lawyer was brought up then. He had believed in Hoseok when the young man was arrested, and as soon as Namjoon and Seokjin got into the reform school computer room and got the evidence to acquit Hoseok, the lawyer helped release him. If they got the evidence, that same lawyer could believe Taehyung and help him be heard and prove his innocence.

Seeing friends so keen to think of a way to help him, Taehyung could no longer reject their help. He had only three options: being arrested for assaulting his stepfather, living on the run, or proving his own innocence. He had a hard time believing he could succeed in the third option, but as he listened to his friends' explanations and reasonings, he was beginning to think it might be worth a try.

With no further objection from Taehyung, his friends understood that they had the freedom and consent to plan what to do next and how to help Taehyung.

Once again, Taehyung spent most part of the night awake, if not listening to his friends' ideas and plans, then thinking about all the decisions that were made that day and the possible consequences.

It was agreed that they would be divided into 3 groups. The first group would go to the house whose owners accused Taehyung of theft to retrieve camera images that could prove that Taehyung did not enter the house to steal it. The second group would go to Taehyung's mother to talk to her and ask her to help and testify against her husband, telling the truth: that Taehyung was simply protecting her. The third group would go to the police file to try to get the files from the previous case to prove that everything was orchestrated by Taehyung's stepfather to incriminate him.

At first, they wanted to keep Taehyung hidden in Namjoon's house, but as the young man refused to stand still while the others helped him, it was decided that he would go with Namjoon to the house he supposedly stole, where he would be less likely to get caught, while Jimin and Hoseok would go to his mother, and Jungkook, Yoongi and Seokjin would go to the police file.

Taehyung could see the logic of the plan and was willing to try it, since he knew his friends would do it anyway, even without him. If he compared his own attitudes with those of his friends, he would know that they were doing nothing that he would not do. However, he couldn't stop thinking about the possible consequences of what they were doing.

First, Namjoon accompanying him to a place where Taehyung had already been wrongfully accused was very dangerous. If the owners of the house saw him, they would surely report him to the police and Namjoon would be taken as his accomplice. In addition, he could be accused of attempting to steal from them again, for revenge or whatever reason his stepfather or the homeowners might invent.

Second, talking to Taehyung's mother made Taehyung's chest tighten. He was aware that what his friends would ask of his mother was extremely disturbing and painful. Besides not being able to go to her because the police would be waiting for him, Taehyung refused to put his own mother against the wall, asking her to do something she was afraid of. Taehyung knew that his mother had never reported his stepfather because no one would believe her and so she would be even more vulnerable at the hands of that rascal.

Third, breaking into the police file was extremely dangerous and highly unlikely. He still couldn't believe his friends would try to do so. Still, if anyone had a chance to do that, it was Seokjin, who had been able to convince the reform school guards to release Namjoon's access to computers, even though “must stay away from computers” was clearly written on Namjoon’s sentence. The oldest in the group had a way of convincing people that even his friends couldn’t understand. But if they were caught, they would be arrested for sure and their sentences would not be soft, and they had no reasonable explanation for doing so.

Taehyung feared for himself, but he feared much more for his friends and his mother. Even if he was arrested again, this time for much more than three years, he would rather take it than see his friends being arrested again, or seeing his mother suffer more than she was already suffering.

When he finally managed to close his eyes to rest, Taehyung had no good dreams, as they all involved everything that could go wrong with their plan. When he woke up, Taehyung was even more apprehensive than when he went to sleep, but he was aware that he could do nothing to stop his friends, so he could only wish them luck and ask them to be careful when they all left Namjoon's house to put the plan in motion.

***

After everything had been cleared up and the groups were set to put all parts of the plan into action, the boys considered leaving Taehyung at home. He would be in danger if he walked the streets now that he was wanted by the police, so staying at Namjoon's house would be safer. But the truth was that Taehyung was still a little nervous and very agitated with all the decisions his friends were making, and there was no denying that all the other six guys were afraid that if they left Taehyung alone at that moment, he might do something stupid that would endanger the whole plan.

So since letting Taehyung's emotions run wild trying to convince his mother to help didn't seem like a good idea, and getting him close to a police station was out of the question, there he was, following Namjoon's long strides.

The older one usually worked alone, it had always been that way. He didn't really need help and it was usually easier to concentrate if there was no one around, but he didn't care about the company.

Namjoon didn't say much along the way, but Taehyung didn't seem to notice. The younger one spoke almost nonstop, his voice low and hoarse, but he didn't seem to expect any response from Namjoon.

It was obvious that Taehyung didn't notice, didn't even pay attention, but Namjoon watched him from the corner of his eye from time to time. Even though he knew Taehyung's generally lively, chatty nature, the elder knew that at that moment it was all just a facade. The younger one was more nervous than he wanted to admit and talked nonstop to try to cover it up, but his friend knew him too well not to notice.

Taehyung hadn't talked this much since everyone was in the reform school together. Namjoon would have to live under a rock to not notice his friend's behavioral changes, which, as Namjoon had imagined, changed again when they got to where they were going.

Taehyung was suddenly completely silent.

Namjoon could almost hear the beating of both hearts. His own was calm and steady since he was no longer intimidated by the work he had to do. He was used to all that: the adrenaline, the care he knew he needed to be. Taehyung's heartbeat, on the other hand, though Namjoon couldn't really hear it, was racing and out of step. The almond eyes were wide.

It was no surprise. Taehyung knew every part of the plan as well as the others - not that it had been easy to convince him that it should be done. No. His eyes were wide with the shock of recognition.

He did not expect to return there. After a year in the reform school, this was the last place he expected to be.

The drawing on the high wall with the white background caught his eye. Every well done detail demonstrated the zeal with which it was made. The bold colors expressed joy and movement as it should be. The images, the represented children, seemed to dance without worry, as he had once done, at a time that seemed too distant to be precise.

It was his work. The design, the colors, even the small signature on one corner of the wall where the work ended, had been carefully done by him.

Contrary to what many might think, graffiti was a type of art and had nothing to do with vandalism. Also, some people might not like it, but Taehyung had talent. The art on the wall showed it. It also showed that his talent was recognized. Or at least it had been before he was arrested.

That was how it had started. Of course, by the time things happened, Taehyung had not linked one thing to another, but he had enough time to do it in the reform school.

He had been hired by the family who lived there to do the art on the wall. The family liked graffiti and had discovered his talent. It had been a good and satisfying job. Unfortunately, it had also happened on the same date the family was stolen from.

After that, Taehyung had been accused, without much of a chance to defend himself, of being the perpetrator of the theft. He found himself in a quick, confused rush to prove his innocence, but nothing seemed to work. Even his lawyer looked at him with suspicion, and with the influence of the family that had been stolen, it was not long before Taehyung knew the inside of the reform school.

Luckily, he also met his friends, which was why he was currently looking at the art that was still on the wall and remembering it. Because his friends believed in him more than himself and were willing to prove they were right.

Since Taehyung trusted and believed in them, he must also believe that they would get what they wanted, he had also seen their efforts to clear Hoseok out of charge and the positive results of it. But even so, he hoped Namjoon would take the first step.

Namjoon, in turn, had decided to give his friend some time to get used to the idea and accept, react to it, but he was already getting nervous from all that silence. Since Taehyung said nothing and shed no tears, Namjoon decided it was time to act. After all, the longer they spent there, the more likely someone would pass them and recognize Taehyung.

"Well, let's go," Namjoon finally said and Taehyung nodded.

The two of them approached the wall. They were going to break the law again. In fact, almost the whole group would do it and there was no innocent one this time. Convincing Taehyung's mother to help would be uncomfortable and probably difficult, but it was the only thing within the law they would do. The other two groups had to be more careful.

But at that moment, Namjoon was not worried. The possibility of breaking the law would only keep him on the alert. He wouldn’t have suggested attempting to acquit his friend if that were a problem. For him and Taehyung, however, the illegal part would only start later. For now, the biggest concern was not letting the youngest of them be recognized.

Despite the little movement of people on the wide, well-lit street, Taehyung kept his head covered by the hood of his sweatshirt. Shorter and more agile than his older friend who had a tendency to be clumsy, he offered to climb the wall while Namjoon watched the street.

The eldest of the pair looked around, happy to let the younger help. Normally he could do everything on his own, but it didn't hurt to have an assistant. He also knew from Taehyung's concentrated expression that having something to do was comforting.

Taehyung balanced the best he could on the wall and climbed up, trying not to think that he could be recognized at any moment by someone walking down the street, or worse, that someone could leave the house and see him there. Instead, he kept his focus on the small camera in front of him.

Namjoon had asked him to get technical information about the camera over the garage wall of the fancy house that was filming the graffiti, the exact camera he was looking at, at that moment. Taehyung had not asked questions before and was not asking now. He knew that his friend had it all planned and chose only to trust him. Namjoon's skills had worked to get Hoseok out of the reform school. It was hard to believe, but they could work now, too. After all the discussion with his friends and the scolding he took, Taehyung was trying not to be pessimistic.

It was easier said than done, but he could at least not disturb his friend.

Namjoon jotted down quickly and accurately all the information his friend passed while clinging to the high wall like a koala. The camera’s brand, as well as the model, the year and, lastly, the trade name of the company that managed the recordings. Rich people like those who lived there weren't the kind who ran their own security. They hired other people or companies to do this kind of work for them.

When he was over, Taehyung jumped off the wall and landed easily on the sidewalk. He waited until he received an affirmative signal from his friend and climbed back up the wall, this time with the main entrance gate to help him lean. He repeated the procedure and gave Namjoon the same information about the second camera, which was positioned to film the entrance to the house.

Namjoon made another positive sign and saw his friend skilfully climb down the wall for the second time. He himself had already noted the location and position information for each camera. He might need them or not, but he didn't want to risk it. To save his friend, every detail was important.

He patted Taehyung's shoulder and started to walk away, putting his hands in his pockets and acting casually, knowing that Taehyung was doing the same behind him. The first stage of their part in the plan was complete.

***

Jimin and Hoseok were not as satisfied with their role in the whole plan. Although it seemed like they got the easy and least dangerous part, they believed they actually got the worst part of the plan. They were certainly the best option for doing what was in their charge, but they would not like it at all.

After all was decided, while they were on their way to the hospital where Taehyung's stepfather was hospitalized, Jimin and Hoseok were silently wondering what they would do to complete their task. They were undoubtedly the friendliest and happiest people in the group (aside from Taehyung who wasn't very excited lately), so it's no fairer than them to be responsible for the most socially interacting part of the plan.

Listening to others talk about what they should do, anyone would think the task would be simple, but they were not fooled. Regardless of having the group's greatest social skills (apart from Seokjin who would use his talents for other purposes), they thought they fell far short of the task they were given. Convincing Taehyung's mother to do something she feared would not be an easy task.

Like the others, Jimin and Hoseok believed that Taehyung's mother would eventually give in to the opportunity to help her son, as they knew she loved Taehyung. They spent at least a year listening to their friend speak well of his mother and fondly remember all the good times they had together. They heard all about how she was willing to marry Taehyung's stepfather so she could support and give her son a father. They knew all the suffering and pain she had to go through while she was married. All because she loved her son and believed that staying with Taehyung's stepfather was the best way to take care of her son, even if she needed to catch up with the man who supported them.

Regardless of the marriage, Taehyung's mother's primary goal was to take good care of her son, and when the boy was arrested, she had no chance to help him because she was injured and the whole case was quickly closed. Jimin and Hoseok would appeal to the fact that this time she could help her son and escape herself from the pain this marriage caused her.

When they arrived at the hospital, it was not difficult to find out which room Taehyung's stepfather was in. Nor was it hard to find out that Taehyung's mother was practically trapped inside the room to take care of her husband and only went out a few times to eat. So Jimin and Hoseok had to wait in the hospital cafeteria until Taehyung's mother showed up to eat.

As bad as it sounds, the two friends were not surprised when lunchtime was over and Taehyung's mother didn't show up. If Taehyung's stepfather was as bad as Taehyung had said, he would surely deprive Taehyung's mother of some meals. They just couldn't understand how it could happen inside the hospital, where nurses and doctors would notice if someone was starving.

They were still patiently waiting for Taehyung's mother when a man wearing a blue coat came to them and called them to talk to him in his office. Because they were afraid of missing Taehyung's mother, Jimin and Hoseok resisted the doctor's invitation a little, but as soon as the elder said he wanted to talk precisely about the person they were looking for, the two friends followed the doctor to his office.

As they entered the office, both boys looked around the room. Each reacted differently to the new environment. Jimin remembered the time he had accompanied a friend on an appointment, but remembered very little about his own appointments with a doctor, so the place looked like any room that was clear and looked sterile. Hoseok, on the other hand, remembered very well the consultation he had had when he was arrested, when they thought he was on drugs to steal a cop's gun, so he felt a little nervous inside those walls. Even so, the two sat in front of the doctor's desk, as requested, and waited.

After finally hearing what the doctor had to say, they felt their faith in humanity being restored. Apparently, when he visited Taehyung's stepfather's room for a consultation on the patient's condition, the doctor noticed that Taehyung's mother had some unhealed wounds and some bruises that were still apparent. Seeing other women in this situation, the doctor ended up asking no question to Taehyung's stepfather about the matter and waited for the woman to leave the room unaccompanied to question her about her injuries. Unfortunately, the woman said she was very clumsy and kept hurting herself, banging on furniture and falling. Despite continuing to suspect of aggression, the doctor could not say anything if no one reported the aggressor.

However, the doctor's suspicions fell on the person they least expected: Taehyung. After exposing the fact that he was worried about the policeman's wife who had been assaulted by his stepson, the doctor expressed fear that Taehyung had not only assaulted his stepfather, but had been assaulting his own mother.

Jimin and Hoseok couldn't be more outraged by the doctor's suspicions, but they couldn't say they were surprised either. As Namjoon had said, Taehyung was all too likely to be accused at that moment, and anyone would suspect that he would be the most violent person in the family.

Even so, Jimin and Hoseok responded similarly to the doctor's accusation, tightening their lips in a thin line and clenching their hands into fists. They wanted to defend their friend and shout to the whole hospital to hear that it was not Taehyung who was the perpetrator of his mother's aggression, but his stepfather. If it depended on Taehyung's friends, even the doctor could be attacked at that moment for talking such bullshit.

Fortunately, the two boys were not stupid, so they did nothing against the doctor, nor told the truth that few knew. They simply said that they also suspected that Taehyung's mother had been abused for some time and so they wanted to see her, to persuade her to have an exam and to have documented that all her injuries were a consequence of the beatings she had taken, for only with such a document she could expose her attacker. At no point, however, did they imply that they knew who was responsible for it.

Noting that the young men were trying to help a woman they knew and apparently appreciated, the doctor proposed that they talk to Taehyung's mother, and if she agreed to take the exam, he would arrange for everything to be done correctly and discreetly, and yet would sign and stamp the report so that it would be taken to the police to make the complaint.

With someone else on their side, Jimin and Hoseok practically celebrated the unexpected advance in their plan. They just didn't do it because they still had to talk to Taehyung's mother. Hoping that they would succeed, they went back to the cafeteria and waited for Taehyung's mother once again.

Once again, the two friends spent a long time waiting for Taehyung's mother. Enough time to be concerned (again) about how they might approach the subject and persuade the wife to do an extensive and intrusive examination and to testify against her own husband. It was only when Jimin and Hoseok lost their smile of excitement that the confidence had put on their faces after talking to the doctor that Taehyung's mother entered the cafeteria.

Figuring the woman might be starving for skipping lunch, Jimin and Hoseok waited for her to grab the food and sit down for them to approach.

"Excuse me," Jimin caught the eye of Taehyung's mother, who seemed quite surprised to be approached by the two young men, but then smiled when she saw the sincere smiles on their pretty faces. Seeing that she was willing to listen to them and was not afraid of them, Jimin continued in a low voice so that only she could hear, "We are friends with Taehyung."

This time the woman widened her eyes and turned her head from side to side, looking for any sign of her husband or any other police officer. Then, making a hasty gesture with her hands, she asked them to sit down.

"How is he?" She asked immediately, lowering her voice as Jimin had done and leaning over the table to get closer to her son's friends. “I asked him to run away and I didn't hear from him anymore. When I saw what Minsuk told the police on the news this morning, it was too late for me to explain what really happened.”

Jimin and Hoseok looked at each other with frowns, finding the statement strange.

"What do you mean?" Hoseok asked as they looked back at Taehyung's mother. “Didn't the police get your statement about what happened?”

Taehyung's mother sighed and stared at her own food for a few seconds before looking up and answering:

"Minsuk told them I wasn't home," her voice was altered by the lump that formed in her throat and her eyes filled with tears. “According to his testimony, I only arrived after Taehyung rushed out of the house and he was already lying on the floor when I arrived. I also asked them if I needed to testify, but Minsuk was able to convince them that taking my statement would be a pain for me because I had to testify against my son. They made sure to stop me from talking, as if I could collapse at any moment.”

Seeing a tear that Taehyung's mother couldn't keep from running down the beautiful woman's pale cheeks, Jimin and Hoseok were sure they could convince her to help Taehyung in this case. It was obvious to them that she wanted to testify in favor of her son, but was being held back by her husband and the police who believed in Taehyung's stepfather.

Unfortunately, her statement that Taehyung was simply trying to defend her that day would not be enough. Jimin and Hoseok remembered this as they sighed and looked with sorrow and compassion at the wounds of the woman in front of them. Taehyung's mother was a woman as beautiful as her son, with perfectly aligned facial features. However, all this beauty was marred by the dark circles under the almond eyes, the pale skin, and the bruises of different colors due to the different dates on which they were made. It was time to do their most difficult task, and Jimin and Hoseok wished not to do much harm to it.

Once again the two friends looked at each other, expecting the other to take responsibility for the task and perform it. Jimin rubbed the back of his neck and Hoseok cleared his throat before speaking.

"Ma’am," the eldest of them said gently, "in fact, we came here to ask you a favor."

Taehyung's mother raised her eyebrows and tilted her head slightly.

"We're helping Taehyung prove he's innocent," Hoseok clarified, looking around as he pronounced his friend's name to make sure no one could hear him. "But we need your help."

For a moment, various emotions crossed the woman's face. Taehyung's mother was afraid for her son who could be discovered if they were heard there, she was relieved to know that someone was trying to help Taehyung, she felt pain for not being able to help him at such a time, she was hopeful that she could finally be useful to her boy, and finally she was afraid to know that she would have to face her fears.

"What do you need?" She finally asked, gathering all her remaining courage and all the love she felt for her son. As always, she was willing to do anything to take care of Taehyung.

It was then that Jimin and Hoseok understood why Taehyung had always said his mother was brave even though she had never done anything to stop her husband's aggression. It wasn't a matter of having the courage to say what needs to be said, but it had to do with the courage to do whatever it took to help the one she loved. Fortunately, this was Taehyung, so both friends could breathe a sigh of relief.

It didn't take long for them to explain what Taehyung's mother needed to do, including the forensic medical examination and the future statement she would need to give. They didn't miss out on the fact that the doctor who had operated on Lee Minsuk, Taehyung's stepfather, would be responsible for her examination, and Taehyung's mother smiled slightly as she remembered that the doctor had approached her to ask about her injuries.

While Jimin and Hoseok explained what she needed to do, Taehyung's mother seemed several times worried, tired, or doubtful, but at no point did she interrupt them or express any thoughts against what they were asking of her. Taehyung's two friends could see the apprehension seize the woman, but were amazed at her prompt agreement.

“Are you sure everything is okay?” Jimin couldn't hold back the question. They hoped to find more resistance in explaining everything she should do.

The smile on Taehyung's mother's face reminded Jimin of his time in the reform school with Taehyung, when Taehyung smiled without difficulty. The drawn lips made the cheeks swell and the joy reached the brown eyes without restriction, as if that face were made for that expression of happiness. The tears that had once again accumulated in her eyes did not change the fact that they were happy.

“All I've done,” she explained, “all I've ever wanted is for Taehyung to be happy, have good friends, and live a good life. It shames me to know that it took him to be arrested to find someone he could trust, but I'm glad nonetheless. No matter what price I have to pay, I just want my son to be happy. What you ask of me does not seem to be a price high enough to compensate for all the harm I caused him by choosing this life we ​​have lived for so long.”

It had been a long time since Jimin and Hoseok had been sad enough to shed tears. Not even when they ended up in the reform school did they feel so sad. Seeing a mother say that she had to pay more, in addition to all that she had already suffered, to make up for all the effort she had taken to care for her child, was like someone trying to tear their hearts out.

Jimin and Hoseok struggled to smile and tell Taehyung's mother that she had already paid dearly, that she had already paid a price beyond due for a wrong choice she had made a long time ago.

Trying to shed the weight of all those bad energies and negative emotions, they escorted Taehyung's mother to Lee Minsuk's doctor's office. As they had imagined, it had not been easy to talk to Taehyung's mother, but fortunately she was exactly the angel Taehyung had described.

***

The trio of Seokjin, Yoongi, and Jungkook were the most eclectic of all groups. Someone who knew each of their personality would think they would find it difficult to mingle and would fall into an uncomfortable silence on the way to executing their part of the plan. But if this person really knew them, they wouldn't think that. After spending enough time getting to know each other while in the reform school, the seven young men were united as if they had spent their entire lives together, and these three demonstrated it in an endless conversation on their way to the police’s file.

After a little debate, Seokjin had taken the car out of the garage for the task, not only because it would be easier to drive back and forth with it, but also because his task was a little farther than those of the other groups. Then, shortly after Namjoon left with Taehyung heading the house whose wall Taehyung had graffiti three years earlier, and Jimin and Hoseok left for the hospital, the two oldest of the group and the youngest of all were accommodated in the SUV Seokjin had bought a few weeks earlier, with Jungkook nudging Yoongi insistently to get him to join the conversation while he and Seokjin talked about sports.

The concerns that plagued the others did not even seem to cross their minds because they were so confident. Poking around files and information that they shouldn't see wasn't exactly something they hadn't done before and they knew they could do what they needed without getting caught. After all, they had a plan. More or less.

At least they had agreed before leaving Namjoon's house that Yoongi would control his mood swings and wouldn’t try to set fire to anything, and if he tried, Jungkook was tasked with stopping him. After all, it would not be easy to explain and get away with it if the police file center suddenly caught fire. And Jungkook would try hard not to get too angry about anything and use his muay thai skills, but the youngest had been learning to control those impulses with Jimin's help since he was in reform school, so Seokjin wasn't really worried about that.

The oldest of them was in charge of opening the way and allowing the other two to access the files they were looking for. Seokjin would use his skills so that the stewards of the police file would not bother Yoongi and Jungkook while they did their part of the job.

He'd been trying not to use his good looks and good conversation to get what he wanted since he'd left the reform school. It was hard to resist, but he was trying hard, since he had learned from his friends that he had other qualities and didn't need to resort to that. However, he could not deny his help in the plan to acquit Taehyung. If this was the specific skill they needed, that was what he would use, and everything else that was needed. After all, his friend deserved it.

Yoongi's eyes were half closed, silently plotting an effective way to restrain Jungkook's tireless finger, which was constantly poking him, so that he could finally take his nap in the SUV's passenger seat when the younger man suddenly fell silent and jumped on the backseat, his hands gripping the two front seats firmly for that.

For a second, Yoongi thought he would finally get some sleep, so he closed his eyes again, but opened them at once when he felt the wind move near his face and tried to avoid widening them when he found Jungkook's hand five inches from his nose, pointing to something in front of the car.

"There it is, there it is! We’re here," Jungkook said with his cheerful voice and a huge smile on his face. Seokjin smiled as Yoongi mumbled a nod that was ignored by the other two.

Yoongi knew that his friends often ignored his moodiness and he didn't care. They paid attention when it was important and enjoyed it when he was in a good mood. That's what mattered, especially since no one was to blame for him being bipolar, literally. The others had just learned to live with it.

The police file center was a huge building that looked more like a post office shed than a police station. In fact, it wasn't really a police station. There was a police station a few blocks away, with police working to handle all kinds of complaints and making rounds. No, the file center was a warehouse type. That was where all evidence of all investigated cases was taken and filed. That's why it had that name.

Seokjin stopped the car just before the file center. He didn't want anyone to link the car to them if something didn't go as planned and they had to get away. It was not the first time for any of them doing something they shouldn't and he wanted to be prepared.

As the responsible young man, despite his explosive temper, Jungkook straightened as he got out of the car. This was no time for jokes, and after the trio walked closer to the center, he waited outside with Yoongi as Seokjin entered, just as they had agreed. They would wait for a signal from the eldest to sneak in and do their part. For now, it was Seokjin's turn.

The older one took a relaxed stance as he walked through the door. He felt confident and the smug smile that spread across his full lips as he watched the counter ooze charm.

It was perfect. Well that was just perfect. The file center parlor looked like a very simple reception, with a few waiting chairs and a high counter that could hold three computers, but only one of them was being used by none other than a beautiful brunette with straight brown hair stuck in a ponytail and a flawless blue police uniform. The atmosphere seemed very favorable to him.

Seokjin straightened his broad shoulders and shoved his hands in his pants pocket as he approached and rested his free elbow on the counter. His words were almost sweet as he greeted the woman with a simple "Good afternoon," but when the woman looked away from the computer screen to him, his dark eyes had a seductive glow.

He saw the policewoman swallow hard and he knew he had already gotten what he wanted. With the hand that was in his pocket so far, he made the gesture that he knew his friends outside would see through the door's glass. The woman would see nothing but his handsome face for a while.

"So, we meet again," Seokjin said with a slight tone of surprise in his voice.

The policewoman raised her eyebrows and tilted her head as she studied Seokjin's face, swallowing once more as she noted his beauty.

"Do we know each other?" She asked huskily, then cleared her throat and straightened in her chair trying to hide that she was rocked by Seokjin's appearance.

With an exclamation of surprise and a complete change from cheerful expression to one of wounded pride, Seokjin put a hand to his chest and asked if she didn't remember him. Looking concerned that she had somehow managed to hurt the handsome man in front of her, the woman simply said no.

"Gee, I thought you noticed me at the academy as I noticed you," he explained as soon as he got her answer. Then he looked away to the hand drawing abstract drawings on the counter, as if brooding over a thought. "It seems my interest in you is not reciprocal."

Suddenly the woman sucked in her breath and completely forgot to try to pretend she wasn't interested in Seokjin. She waved both hands in the air and nodded before answering.

"No, no!" She vehemently denied it. “Surely the interest is reciprocal.”

"Are you sure?" Seokjin asked frowning and leaning over the counter to get closer to her. "You don't even remember meeting me at the academy."

"You mean at the police academy?" The policewoman asked huskily again as she blinked nonstop and stared straight into Seokjin's dark, deep eyes. He simply nodded as he pouted his lower lip, drawing the policewoman's attention to his mouth. "Of... of course... I remember you."

Seokjin smiled at that answer. To the police officer, it sure seemed that he was glad she remembered him, but he was really happy because she had stammered to lie to satisfy him.

"So, you remember me?" He looked suddenly excited, his baritone voice rising a tone and drawing the cop's attention back to his mouth. "You don't know how happy that makes me."

Seokjin's response, both physics and the one that came out of his lips, was enough to make the cop relax and smile as she looked back into the dark eyes.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, more likely to go back to work now that the mess was over. Besides, it was obvious that she would do everything she could to keep Seokjin talking to her.

Shrugging, Seokjin ran a hand through his hair, disguising himself to watch the camera the woman should be watching and that was showing exactly how Yoongi and Jungkook entered the building through the side door.

"To tell you the truth, I kind of lied to you," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck and lightly pressing his lips. "I knew you were assigned to work here, so I thought I'd come see you, or rather meet you again."

Nothing Seokjin could say would have put a bigger, happier smile on the woman's face in front of him. The possibility of having a man like Seokjin interested in her seemed like the best thing that happened to her that day (or any other day of her life). She was not even aware that she had never seen that beautiful face in her life, or that she had never met those beautiful round dark eyes. Just knowing that as a simple policewoman who kept the police file and was not much watched by men like that, Seokjin being interested in her was enough to distract her from her work, which she didn't even think was that important.

That's what Seokjin focused on while he was there distracting her so that Yoongi and Jungkook had the peace and time to look for what they needed to clear Taehyung. Always remembering his false interest in the brunette in front of him, Seokjin asked her why she had been assigned to this work, if she enjoyed her job, why a beautiful woman like her was still single, why she was there alone during the day, among others. If his role in the plan was to get a girlfriend, Seokjin would have had enough of her by the time the day was over, as the policewoman answered each of his questions as if she had really known Seokjin for a long time and as if she didn't need to hide anything from a suspicious boy that was blatantly distracting her from her own work.

Not once did the brunette look from Seokjin to the monitor with the cameras she must be watching, or care that her co-workers were returning to their posts. However, as soon as Seokjin noticed the first policeman appear beside the woman, he checked the security cameras and saw that his friends were already heading for the exit. Not wanting the new front-desk occupant to watch as two intruders fled the file center with a stolen file under their arms, Seokjin extended his charm to the new cop.

"Good afternoon," Seokjin said as he reached for the policeman who was watching him with a frown. Seokjin's relaxed smile and charm were enough to make the man shake his hand and smile back. "I'm Yun Taewon," he lied, "a friend of Nanjeong from the academy." Of course, she hadn't said her name during the conversation, since she thought he knew her, but he had no trouble reading it on her badge and making sure to record it for that moment. "I just came to say hello to her, since I found out she's working here."

"It's nice to meet a friend of officer Jeong," the policeman chuckled as he sat down and patted the brunette on the shoulder beside him. "She doesn't talk much."

Smiling in Nanjeong's direction and winking at her, Seokjin made it clear that he knew the advantage he had over the other cop, since the woman had been talking to him for at least half an hour. Chuckling, Nanjeong did not deny what the policeman said and was glad to have Seokjin realize that she was really interested in him.

"I think I better get going," Seokjin said as he looked at the clock on his own wrist. Then he looked back at the brunette and added, "Why don't you give me your phone number so we won't lose touch again?"

The cop didn't even think twice. She took a pen and paper, wrote down her own phone number, and quickly handed it to Seokjin, who made a point of stroking her fingers and blinking back at her as he took the paper.

"Why don't I have your phone number yet?" Seokjin heard the other cop ask while he was leaving, and he didn't even have to fake a smug smile as the policewoman answered that the other cop didn't deserve her phone number.

Seokjin knew it was not right to use people to get what he wanted, but he could not deny that it was pleasant to know that he had conquered a beautiful woman and that he could do it again whenever he wanted. Nothing could inflate his ego more than that.

***

Namjoon and Taehyung didn't talk to the other boys. They hadn’t. Each group had their part of the plan to complete, and at the end, when they had everything they needed, they would gather the information and evidence they had gotten and move on to the next step. But for now, one task didn't depend on the other, and it might be even safer not to keep in touch at the moment.

So, the hacker and his friend went on to do just that, hacking. At that moment, the illegal part of their task would begin. Climbing the wall of a house, especially one that was supposedly stolen by one of them before, to see camera specifications could be a suspicious act, but it was not against the law. Illegal was what they wanted to do with that information.

Unsurprisingly, Namjoon knew the companies that did this kind of service. His curiosity and his gift for computers had led him to get to know them a little deeper. He had even ventured into the systems of some of them years before, when he was discovered and arrested. But it hadn't been that long before and he was convinced he still knew enough about these companies not to go wrong.

That's why he had almost smiled when Taehyung read the company name to him from up the wall. The hacker didn't want to overestimate himself. It was not good for any hacker to be overconfident or arrogant because it made them make mistakes. Mistakes made them leave marks that in turn made them get caught. But Namjoon trusted his skills just enough and needed. Besides, he could now also say that he knew the company he was dealing with.

The confirmation that his information about the company was not outdated was that it was completely empty of people when the pair arrived. Namjoon had done time and transport calculations hoping to find it just like that and smiled at Taehyung, showing his dimples in response to his friend's surprised exclamation.

Of course, he could try to hack into the company system that monitored the cameras from his own home and his own computer, as he had done several times before with other companies. But he knew that if he did that, he would be risking finding blocks and not finding the files he wanted for several reasons. But the matter was too important for him to risk not achieving his goal by silly details. Besides, the sooner they could gather all the evidence, the better, and he had an ace up his sleeve prepared especially for it.

So, there they were, already inside the company, walking around the rooms and cubicles until they found the office he wanted and where he knew he would find the files.

It was a small, dark room with a large computer whose keyboard had many buttons attached and several monitors on the wall in front. Namjoon sat in the high-backed padded white chair and took a good look at everything before letting his fingers work on the keyboard as if they had a life of their own and knew exactly what they were doing.

Taehyung let his friend work while looking around. He no longer looked, and didn't feel, as nervous as before. Perhaps his task of verifying camera information had helped more than he expected, and now the silence in the room was comfortable rather than a palpable tension.

It did not take long for the methodical and focused Namjoon to make some images appear on the monitors in front of him, catching the eye of Taehyung, who turned away from the door, where he was watching the rest of the office, to pay attention to his friend's work.

Gradually Namjoon was getting closer to what he wanted. He used the information Taehyung had given him to get to the right camera. He would check the wall camera first, the one that filmed the graffiti wall. He would do one thing at a time, with calm and detail. He couldn't afford to let anything go unnoticed. So, already fiddling with the log files, he concentrated his search on the approximate day and time of the police charge.

Taehyung saw his own image appear on the screens before him and searched for a chair to sit on. He didn't want to admit it, but the feeling of seeing himself on the monitors, as he had been three years earlier while graffitiing the wall, was a bit odd.

In the pictures, he wore light clothing. Faded jeans and a plain white shirt whose hem he had tucked into the waistband of his pants, which was complemented by an equally white belt. He would take the spray paint cans out of a black backpack he'd left on the floor near the wall and wouldn't let a single splash of paint get on his clothes as he made the shapes appear on the wall with serious expression and focused eyes.

Namjoon slightly increased the speed of the video, just enough so that they didn't take so long but without missing any detail, after watching how Taehyung's talent made him paint a beautiful picture on the wall, as well as the satisfied look on his face at his complete work before gathering his graffiti material, storing it all back in his backpack and slinging it over one shoulder as he walked away. A few steps further, Taehyung's recorded image stopped again and took one last look at the graffiti before nodding, as if approving his own work, and walking away from the wall, far enough to go out of the camera's range.

The hacker advanced the video until hours later, and even when several people stopped to watch Taehyung's art on the wall, the artist did not return to the scene, wearing that or any other outfit. Then, as a precaution, he replayed the recording even before his friend arrived with his backpack full of paint cans, and analyzed each moment. Thoroughly, he watched every minute of the video until he got to the previous day's recording, yet he found no other image of his friend. There was simply no record of Taehyung made by that camera the day the graffiti was made, the day the house was stolen and Taehyung was charged with committing the crime.

Neither reacted to that, however. Not yet. But Namjoon was careful to save the entire file of the graffiti-specific day recordings on a flash drive he had carried with him in his jeans pocket.

With the next camera, which was filming the entrance to the house, Namjoon was even more careful and detailed. He began by watching the early hours recordings of the morning, or rather at dawn, and proceeded from there. He didn't want to miss anything, didn't want to leave any breaches that could be used against Taehyung. He and all the other boys knew the graffiti artist was innocent, but they would need more than certainty to prove the truth.

Both Namjoon and Taehyung knew the time when the house had been stolen. Police had made a point of disclosing this information when they accused Taehyung of theft. But the two friends ignored the alleged evidence that the police had presented years before and resisted the urge to advance the recording. Instead, they watched, almost calmly, the many hours of video that were playing at the same slightly hurried speed as the previous one.

Nothing unusual happened throughout the day and no one but the residents themselves entered or left the house until the time of the robbery.

The pair watched the camera-recorded image of a man walking through the gate and into the house, and Namjoon slowed the image so they could see it in real time. He wore dark jeans and a very dark brown sweatshirt, with a hood that covered his head over the cap he wore.

The two friends frowned. It was obvious from everyone's clothes that had been filmed by both cameras that the day was hot. So why was this man dressed like that? Besides, it was clear it was a man. As much as the clothes covered his whole body and he kept his face hidden from the camera as he tried to keep it behind him as he entered the house, his height and walk made it clear that the person was a man. More than that, he was incredibly big and strong to be mistaken for a woman.

Namjoon said nothing. He didn't want to say anything until he could prove it, but the unarguably suspicious man who dressed in an absurd manner for the weather was incredibly big and strong to be mistaken for Kim Taehyung himself.

Taehyung was tall, but although his slender body showed some muscles, he was nowhere near what they saw on the monitors.

But neither of them said anything and Taehyung held his breath for a moment. This time his nervousness made him quiet rather than chatter.

No one broke the silence as they waited for the images to pass on the monitors, and as the man in the sweatshirt stepped out the front door of the house, looking around cautiously and holding a small box in both hands, the adrenaline made Taehyung jump from the chair. He controlled himself shortly thereafter, but his expectation was visible in the hand that clutched the arm of the chair so hard it made his knuckles white.

Namjoon straightened a little to get a better look. As the man approached the gate, Namjoon could see that the small box he held was unmistakably the family jewelry box that had been stolen that day, for which Taehyung had been charged. But the face the man was trying to keep down so that his cap and hood could hide him could not resist looking up. He knew exactly where the camera was and had deliberately avoided it when he entered the house, but at that moment, with the item stolen in his hands and feeling confident, the thief looked straight at it.

Taehyung gasped.

The face that appeared on the monitors was tanner than his own, perhaps only a few years older, but surely the features were tougher and the eyes, so light brown that they were almost green, had not had the slightest hint of kindness.

The thief, the man who had been shot by the security camera leaving the house with the stolen object in his hands, did not even look like Kim Taehyung.

Namjoon gave his friend a small smile and gave his shoulder a slight shake. Taehyung showed him a square smile before they both controlled themselves and looked back at the recording.

They saw the owners of the house return, saw when the couple's wife left the house, obviously desperate, and when she returned as her husband called her. They saw when the police arrived, spent a lot of time talking to them, taking notes and watching the camera as Namjoon and Taehyung had done earlier. They also saw when the police left and the woman was crying at the door of the house hugging her husband who had an angry look.

But they saw no sign of Taehyung in the recording.

Namjoon saved that file the same way as the previous one and got up. The pair had already got what they had fetched there.

Taehyung followed his friend out into the street and back to his friend's house, his hands never stopped shaking as he fought a smile all the way there.

***

It was hard to tell who was more nervous on the way to the doctor's office, but Hoseok and Jimin had already settled for the fact that they had a job to do. As hard as it was to believe how easily and quickly Taehyung's mother had agreed to help, neither friend could deny that this was exactly what they wanted.

They both tried to have a neutral conversation with her to try to calm her down, or at least make her think of other things so as not to be even more nervous about the examination she was going to have.

The doctor was at his desk typing something into his computer when they entered, but he immediately stopped what he was doing and stood up when he saw them. The man glanced at his watch and then smiled, thinking that the two young men had managed to convince the woman faster than he had imagined, but deciding not to comment. He didn't want to change the woman's mind.

"Do you know why you're here, Mrs. Lee?" Asked the doctor, looking away from her to Jimin and Hoseok and then back to her as he waited for the answer.

"You will examine me," the woman replied in a calm, firm voice. If she was nervous, as Jimin and Hoseok knew she was, she didn't want to show it to the doctor, or maybe it wasn't the examination that made her nervous. "You'll record all my injuries and bruises in a report that I can use to report who did this to me."

Her eyes met those of Jimin, who nodded, then Hoseok's, who grinned. Neither of them had mentioned it, but it seemed she knew she didn't need to mention who was guilty and innocent in the whole story. After all, the woman had seen the news and knew exactly what version the whole population was listening to. She was unwilling to cause further confusion until her son's friends had enough to acquit him.

"Are you ready then?" The doctor asked. When she answered with a nod, he asked her to accompany him to the small room next door, where he examined the patients. He asked her to take off most of her clothes and took some instruments while she did as he asked, the doctor's gaze on her expressing nothing but professionalism and concern.

If it was impressive to see how many marks she had on her body when she was dressed, the boys would have made many disgusted faces if they had seen her at that moment. It was not just her face and arms that had bruises and cuts, but her whole body.

When Taehyung's mother was dressed only with her underwear, she finally looked down at the counter and realized that there was a camera along with utensils the doctor had put there. She widened her dark eyes almost involuntarily, completely amazed at the possibility of being photographed like that.

“No. Please don't be surprised!" The doctor exclaimed quickly, extending both hands to her with his palms facing forward to show that he would do nothing. "I want to ask your permission to photograph the wounds."

As she blinked twice but said nothing, with both hands still covering her breasts, the doctor went on.

"I'm not a coroner. I want to help and I will do my best, but the exam that I am going to take cannot be considered a forensic medical examination. It can, however, be used by a coroner as a support for a forensic examination, and as we don't know when a coroner will be called upon to examine you, or how many of these injuries and bruises you will still have by then or what they will look like, I need to be thorough."

"Are you saying your exam won't make any difference to the investigation?" Mrs. Lee asked with her expression finally changing from startled to confused as the frown replaced her wide eyes.

"I'm saying my exam may be the exam used by the coroner if some bruises have already left your body when you meet the coroner," he replied and then was surprised when he received the shadow of a mocking smile from her.

"I'm not sure if this is a possibility," Taehyung's mother said more to herself than to the man who stared at her.

She was not mocking the situation. She would not dare to mock the beatings she had taken in recent years or the marks, visible or not, that the beatings had left on her body and mind. But she couldn't help but find the doctor's suggestion that the marks could disappear to be naive. She had been living with it long enough to know that the bruises were slow to display all their profusion of color and tone mix until they finally disappeared. In fact, usually when they disappeared, others replaced them. Mrs. Lee had a hard time remembering what her skin was like without the marks, or what it was like to lie on the pillow at night without crying before falling asleep.

"That's where the camera comes in," continued the doctor as if the woman had said nothing. "If I photograph everything and attach the photos to the report, the coroner will have a more specific and realistic view of how you are now and will be able to attach everything to the report itself for the expert and the police. Then the evidence against the perpetrator will be even more concrete."

Mrs. Lee saw in the doctor's eyes who he thought had assaulted her like that. She saw that and was filled with indignation, but made an effort to control herself. Arguing with the doctor who was trying to help her would be of no benefit. Then she focused on the words of Jimin and Hoseok, who were waiting for her on the other side of the door. They were doing their best to exonerate her son and needed her help.

She needed to work hard. She had waited until that moment to face her fears and to help her son. This time, keeping quiet and letting herself be examined might be more useful than speaking.

Then she nodded as the man took the camera again and took pictures of most of her wounds and bruises. He brought the camera closer to her skin but barely touched it. After that, he looked at each bruise from various angles and touched them lightly, earning a few moans and pained expressions from the woman. The man mumbled as he continued his examination and wrote in a small notebook he had left on the counter, but Mrs. Lee could understand nothing but a few words: "dark," "sensitive," "recent," "a week" were some examples.

She stopped paying attention. She didn't need his words to know that she had very purple bruises from the night before, some that had already begun to lighten, but still had a strong shade of yellow that indicated they weren't that old, and others that could hardly be seen. All of them still ached, and she could almost remember the moments when they had been made. Almost because, in fact, many of the beatings were so similar that she sometimes confused them.

The doctor finished examining the bruises and moved on to the wounds. Most were small cuts made by strokes. Some, near the eyes and lips, had obviously been made by punches, but when they ached and burned, they were not so different from those in her legs and arms. In fact, after the doctor examined them, she herself realized that the ones on her face seemed more open, since the skin was more sensitive, but they were not so deep.

She herself had never stopped to think so much about her wounds. Taehyung used to do that, which is why he was so angry with his stepfather when that sort of thing happened. That's why he had such a hard time accepting the situation his mother was in.

When she felt a tear roll down her face, she forced herself to think of something else. It wasn't her job to brood over those feelings and regrets. This was the doctor's job, who despite the babbling, remained focused. Her job at that moment was just to let him examine her. She had finally found a chance to help her son and had grasped it bravely, trying to ignore the chills it caused her. That was what mattered, nothing more.

The silence, however, lasted short. She bit her tongue quickly trying to stifle the scream she couldn't stop but it only turned it into a moan. The doctor had raised her right arm over her head. She didn't understand why, as she had stopped paying attention to what he was doing, but the sharp pain that engulfed her upper arm brought her attention back to him.

Wide-eyed, the doctor jerked away. "What happened here?" he asked.

Taking a deep breath to try to get used to the pain, she lowered her arm again and almost managed to shrug. What had happened to her arm anyway? A baseball bat or a push against the wall of the house? She didn't remember exactly what had made it start to hurt like that, she just knew it had been that way for a while.

At her vague answer, the doctor examined her aching arm a little further and she managed not to scream again, though she was panting when he was done.

It was not long before the two returned to the office where Jimin and Hoseok were and where they both covered Taehyung's mother with questions as they realized how pale she was while the doctor accurately typed in his report and added the photos he had taken to the file.

The man saved a copy on his computer, as he did with all his patients' files, but handed over an envelope with the printout of the written report and the photos in Mrs. Lee's now shaking hands.

Then they said goodbye to the doctor, who was now satisfied that he had done his duty to help the woman who had obviously been mistreated for much longer than he had imagined.

Jimin and Hoseok remained concerned even after the color began to return to Mrs. Lee's face (the good color, not the purplish bruising one), and made sure to accompany her to her husband's room even when she said several times that it was not necessary. They walked slowly beside her and made no comment on the times she had to stop to breathe before she continued walking, and when she stopped in front of the hospital room door to look at them with a loving smile on her bruised face. Neither of them could, nor did they want to avoid smiling back.

"I'm very happy to hear that my son has friends as good as you," she said and handed Hoseok the envelope the doctor had given her. The young man held it carefully while his friend answered.

"He deserves even more than that, Mrs. Lee."

They knew she was still in pain after the exam, which although they hadn't seen it had obviously been difficult, so they didn't try to hug her, but they felt very proud when they kissed her cheek at the same time and made her smile again.

Using this as a farewell, the two waited for the woman to enter the room to move away and walk quietly to the hospital entrance before opening the envelope and reading what the doctor had written. Jimin's almond-shaped eyes were wide as he turned his head to find Hoseok smiling at him.

The doctor had recorded everything in detail, including the fact that Taehyung's mother had injuries just a few weeks or months earlier. The man suspected that Taehyung had caused these injuries and did not seem to have changed his mind when he handed the report into Mrs. Lee's hands, but now the boys knew that he had not stopped to analyze what he was writing while he bothered to report everything. Because if Taehyung had been in jail for the past three years, something that all jailers could attest to, how could he have injured his mother just a few months earlier?

Jimin and Hoseok replaced the report and photos inside the envelope and carefully closed it before leaving. With or without such a forensic medical examination by a coroner, the report was enough to show that Taehyung's stepfather was lying when accusing him of Mrs. Lee's injuries.

***

Meanwhile, just as Seokjin had thought, Yoongi and Jungkook saw the gesture he made with his hand as he approached the counter, and set off. They had researched the building a little before and knew that the front door was not the only entrance.

They had prepared, of course, with Namjoon's help for what they knew they would find. On the side of the police file center building was a little-used door that served more as an emergency exit than anything else, but it was a direct entrance to the shed where the evidence was stored. They got all this information and a copy of the master card that was needed to open that door with Namjoon, who had already broken into the police file before. But the hacker had not imagined when he entered the public system before, that he would need this information later to save a friend.

As they pushed the heavy iron door on the side of the building together, they knew they were right about something else too: because it was lunchtime (and they had chosen to arrive there at that specific time on purpose), the woman who was completely enchanted by Seokjin at that moment was the only person there.

Since the warehouse was not a police station and did not have the same functions as one, it did not have to have the same number of officers working together, and when lunchtime came, most of them would leave and only one or two would stay to attend the public if necessary. After all, it was just an hour of lunch.

But one hour was enough for two young men like Yoongi and Jungkook to find what they needed. After all, they were not like any other youth and had acquired some interesting skills in their teens, and had learned some things from Namjoon. Not to mention that, fortunately to them, it wasn't two cops who were working at the file center at lunchtime that day, but only one, and at that moment she was so enchanted by their friend that she wouldn't even notice if Yoongi really burned it all down.

They soon found the main warehouse area and entered. It was because of this place that the building appeared to be a shed from the outside, because it was actually a shed from the inside, too, that the police department had partially transformed to house all its evidence of closed and open cases, whether solved or not.

The pair spent a few moments just looking at the large shelves over five meters high where evidence boxes and folders were located. Yoongi raised an eyebrow as he raised his head to see how far the shelves were going, wondering how the police expected to reach upstairs, but lowered it with a shake of his head when he saw a ladder as high as the shelves.

Jungkook was the first to move, and it was not long before he found a computer on a small white table near the door, almost hidden behind a rack of boxes. He promptly went back to the door, called for Yoongi, and made him sit in the padded chair in front of the computer.

He was more agitated than his older friend (in fact, probably anyone in town was more agitated than Min Yoongi, but Jungkook wouldn't start a discussion on this matter voluntarily) and he knew that the other would be annoyed if he had to figure out the filing system of the shed and to search folder by folder until he found the evidence of the theft case that Taehyung had been charged with and convicted three years earlier. So, the youngest made sure Yoongi was comfortably typing commands into the computer before starting to search for what he wanted among the shelves.

Yoongi didn't even grumble a complaint when the younger one did it, because he was already wondering what was going on in his head. He was slightly grateful for his friend's consideration when he began to search the digital files of the theft case, but of course he would not admit it.

Jungkook thought it would make more sense if everything was stored by date or last name of the accused. It was a simple, easy-to-follow logic for those who have been working on it for years as well as for novices, and the police intended to make it easier for police officers across the city to access those archives, not to fool curious intruders. Mainly because they didn't believe any curious intruders would get to that warehouse with the cops in the front room. Of course, they were not prepared to deal with those intruders specifically, but Jungkook shrugged as he began searching for the date Taehyung had been charged with theft.

As he passed the shelves, he wondered how well Taehyung was holding up, even though he was only two years older than Jungkook himself, the youngest of the group. Of course, he had been overwhelmed and wept with his friends in the morning when they found him sleeping alone in the abandoned building, but who wouldn't do it while taking on so much pressure. If it were with him, Jungkook thought, he would have tried to unload his emotions by punching something, or someone.

He realized that he was right about the evidence storage criteria and that they were archived by date and by name. He followed the very large "K" he found near the date of the robbery and then found a folder where he could clearly read "Kim Taehyung."

He glanced around to make sure Yoongi was still busy searching the digital evidence of the case among the files saved on the computer, and then opened the folder. Taehyung hadn't told them much about the theft charge and the police investigation because he didn't know much about it himself. All he knew was that he had been accused of stealing the house of the family that had hired him to graffiti a wall, and the police seemed to have sufficient irrefutable evidence that the lawyer, who the state provided because Taehyung could not afford one, had not much to do to defend him, even though he was innocent.

So Jungkook thought it was worth taking a look at such irrefutable evidence that the police had against his friend to know what they were dealing with. After all, there was a big difference that tipped the balance a little more to Taehyung's side this time. Unlike the state attorney who had allegedly tried to defend him three years earlier, all his friends trusted him completely and would do everything they could to exonerate him. After meeting and spending a year together in the reform school, neither of them had reason to lie to others, just as neither of them was willing to go around judging the others. They knew each other's character.

The first pages in the folder were pages of printed reports that had been written by the officers who worked on the case. The young man knew that Namjoon and the other boys would want to carefully analyze every word of those reports, so he turned the pages carefully.

Soon he found what appeared to be a transcript of a telephone call, which he read more carefully, line by line. He frowned when he realized what that transcript meant. Taehyung had been denounced by an alleged witness who quite conveniently did not want to identify himself, but reported seeing the tall young man with brown hair and almost black eyes entering the house after finishing the graffiti on the wall and leaving with a box of jewelry that belonged to the housekeeper.

Jungkook pursed his lips to a thin line. That was a big lie, because Taehyung had never entered that house. Taehyung himself had told them this, and once again, they had met in the reform school, where most of them were not innocent of the charges that had brought them there. Taehyung had no reason to lie and didn't like to do it, not even when he needed to.

But Jungkook kept looking at the documents in the briefcase, calming his own explosive temper with the thought that these people didn't know Taehyung as well as he did. It was one of the things Jimin had taught him to do to avoid the urge to want to settle things violently.

He found no evidence, or even a hint that such a stolen jewelry box had been found among Taehyung's belongings, even though he knew and read from the record that his friend's house had been carefully searched by the police.

By the time he reached the last sheet of the folder, Jungkook already believed that he would find nothing as relevant as the transcript of the anonymous denunciation call, and almost didn't read what was written on it. But thanks to Namjoon's insistent recommendation that they be thorough, it was just almost. His pretty eyes widened so much that they were almost perfectly round as they ran through the sheet.

All the information about a video on the evidence list was recorded, including date, time, duration, even the folder, code and name of the video file that was saved in the police database with an acronym, which indicated to which case the case belonged. In addition, from what Jungkook could see in the record, he had been sent just as the call that denounced his friend had been made. It had not been taken from the database of the security camera company that the stolen family hired, but sent anonymously.

Jungkook's once wide eyes suddenly narrowed. How had the police not found this strange and not investigated further? It was as if they didn't want to discover the truth behind what was obviously a frame. Because it was clear that it was a frame, and Jungkook didn't think so just because he was Taehyung's friend and wanted to get him free of the charges.

He closed the briefcase with a quick flick of his hand and didn't even think before turning and hurrying along the corridor. He had no way of making any copies of those files and he knew his friends would want to see them, so he couldn't just put them back in place. In addition, he needed to show Yoongi that last page to help him find the video in the database. Because, Jungkook thought with a smile on his face, they could make a copy of the video and save it on a flash drive for Namjoon to watch it later.

As he approached Yoongi, however, Jungkook noticed that his friend's eyes were glued to the computer screen, already observing every detail of the video that was described in the folder. He knew it was the same file thanks to the name and code that appeared at the top of the screen.

Since Yoongi did not look away, even though he realized that his friend was beside him, Jungkook observed the monitor as well, noting that there was no sign indicating that it had been recorded by a security camera and that it didn't even indicate the date and time of the recording, as this type of file usually contained.

Without saying a word, the two friends watched what was left of the video, which showed the outside of a very beautiful and elegant house, focusing on the front door and a path that looked more like a garage cutting through a beautiful, but simple garden. When, after a few moments, the recording showed a person carefully walking out the front door of the house holding a small box with both hands, Yoongi frowned and Jungkook moved closer.

The image was a little out of focus, perhaps because of how far away the person was from the camera, but they could see the size of the box, which they knew to be a jewel case because of the accusations and file Jungkook still held tightly. It was strange because the image looked slightly less blurred in the hands than in the thief's face, but the face that appeared on the screen was Taehyung's.

The duo didn't question that. It would be even stranger if there was no evidence pointing directly to Taehyung as the thief, especially because of the incredible speed with which everything happened to get him arrested in the reform school. For that very reason, those two were already hoping to find something more incriminating in the police records.

But that didn't stop Yoongi from squinting in the direction of the video while the screen image showed Taehyung looking at the camera proudly, as if he knew he was being filmed and that was exactly what he wanted. This was not Kim Taehyung's way at all, Yoongi knew well, but that was not what he was paying attention to.

Since the image was more blurred in his eyes, Yoongi gave his full attention to the thief's hands, which were the only things besides his face that were not fully covered on that obviously hot day. As much as Yoongi seemed not to pay attention to things around him most of the time, he was actually very observant. He just didn't like to show it. Nor did he show at that moment, not even to Jungkook that was right next to him, for they would both have time to discuss this when they joined the others.

Because Yoongi was sure they would all be very interested in discussing how the hands holding the box looked bigger and grosser than Taehyung's beautiful hands, even though the face in the video evidence was his. The graffiti artist's fingers were long, but nowhere near as hardened as shown in the video.

The pair left after that, with the evidence folder on Jungkook's firm hand and a copy of the video saved on a flash drive that Yoongi carried in his back pocket. They walked to the car without looking back and waited for Seokjin inside as they controlled the unrest caused by the work done.

***

It was late when everyone managed to get back to Namjoon's house, so it was no surprise when they decided to spend the night there. Also, after their seemingly productive day, Taehyung's friends wanted to cheer him up again, ignoring the problem and spending the night as if all was well.

Since everyone was excited about what they had achieved during the day, the subject was basically about what had happened to each group. Namjoon and Taehyung told about the videos they had found at the security company, Jimin and Hoseok talked about Taehyung's mother and the help they received from his stepfather's doctor (in addition to complimenting Taehyung's mother for being so brave and beautiful, despite the injuries), Seokjin told how he managed to distract the policewoman and still get her phone number (which generated some jokes and innuendo), and Yoongi and Jungkook told about the evidence they got from the police file center.

It was the information Yoongi and Jungkook gave about the video they found that caught the most attention and made the others find it very suspicious, but it was Namjoon who expressed their friends' thoughts.

“Why would the police use an anonymously sent video if they could just get the original video from the security company?” Namjoon asked, but received only a shrug as response.

As if it were a movie night, as everyone was relaxed at the time and very interested in what they were going to watch, Namjoon played the video that Yoongi and Jungkook found in the police database. It didn't take long for him and his friends to realize, just as Yoongi had already realized when he first watched the video, that the video was tampered with.

Because they saw the original videos from the security company, Namjoon and Taehyung noticed something in the police video that Yoongi didn't notice but suspected. The images were all in the original videos, but not as they should be. In the video sent anonymously to the police, the man who came out of the stolen house with the jewelry box in his hands had Taehyung's face when looking at the camera, but Namjoon and Taehyung knew that that face was not in that part of the video. In fact, that face was in the other video, the original video of the wall where Taehyung had graffiti. Whoever sent that video to the police had gotten their hands on the original videos and mixed them together, making it look like Taehyung had stolen the jewelry box when in fact he had never entered the house.

After explaining this to his friends, Namjoon added a note about finding out who sent the video to the police. Understanding nothing, his friends asked how he would do that.

“Just as I'm going to trace the origin of the anonymous call you found transcribed in the case file,” he replied, but it still seemed a mystery to his friends.

Knowing that it would be much harder to explain than to do, Namjoon didn't go into too much detail, he simply grabbed his own computer and started opening some programs that showed a bunch of code that no one else understood but him.

That ended the night for everyone. Maybe it was because they were full of adrenaline as they did everything they needed to do to get the evidence to help Taehyung, and when they finally relaxed they were exhausted, but they all fell asleep fast and each lay in a corner, sleeping scattered around Namjoon's house, who was the longest awake, as he was fiddling with his computer trying to find the origin of the anonymous video and call.

The next day, when everyone woke up, including Namjoon, who was the last to wake up for he had been much of the night working on the video and call research, it was obvious that none of them had anything to do until Namjoon was able to finish his research. So, they had breakfast and each went their own way. Hoseok, Jimin and Jungkook went to their homes, Seokjin and Yoongi went to work, and Namjoon called to let his boss know he was missing the day, and then stuck to the computer again. Taehyung was the only one who stayed at Namjoon's house even though he had nothing to do.

He had spent the entire day before in the street, exposed to the curious eyes of others who could recognize him at any moment. So, it was decided that he would be hiding that day.

Fighting boredom, Taehyung tried to do several things while waiting for Namjoon to finish what he was doing. First, he tried to understand what Namjoon was doing by watching him work. But it was clear that he could see his friend on the computer all day (or his whole life) and not understand how his friend's head worked, much less the program he was using, or the codes he was typing.

Then he decided to fight his conscience to call his mother to find out how she was feeling after the exam his friends had asked her to do. Like his friends, Taehyung was pleased and proud that his mother had the courage to do it for him, but he was also sad that she had to go through another suffering before it was all over. Unfortunately, as he had arranged with his friends when they first met at Namjoon's house, Taehyung should keep his cell phone off to prevent police from using GPS to locate him.

Without many options, Taehyung tried to watch some TV at low volume so as not to disturb his friend, but he found he did not want to see his face plastered behind journalists who knew nothing of the truth and accused him of being violent and fugitive.

Finally, he gave up on anything and took out a notebook and pencil to draw on. While Namjoon was concentrating on the computer, Taehyung made several drawings in the notebook he had found on Namjoon's desk. Some of the drawings were of old graffiti he had made before he was sent to the reform school, other drawings were of graffiti he wanted to have made before going to the reform school, but one particular drawing was what he had decided to do after go to the reform school.

After meeting his friends, Taehyung began to create in his head an image he would love to create to put on a very large wall. Finally, he had the opportunity to draw what was on his mind: seven young friends talking and having fun. This was Taehyung's new family and he didn't regret at all how it had been formed. He could only be grateful for having it at that moment.

It was only in the evening that Taehyung ceased to feel lonely even though he was at home with his friend. Namjoon finally finished his research and was resting, so Taehyung prepared ramen for both of them and they sat together to talk.

As much as he wanted to ask what Namjoon had discovered, Taehyung knew that his friend would not want to tell the same story twice, so he would have to wait until everyone else arrived to know his answer. The closer they came to revealing the truth, the more Taehyung felt excited again. If everything went as his friends said it would, he could soon see his mother and live a quiet life as he had not lived for a long time.

Fortunately, the other five arrived not long after, with Jimin and Jungkook bringing food to the others coming straight from work. They wanted so much to hear the news, understand and reveal the truth, that they didn't even think about stopping somewhere to eat, they already called the younger ones for help.

When everyone was sitting in the room, fed and rested, Namjoon decided it was time to explain what he had done and how. In fact, he would not explain exactly how he had tracked the video and the call, since none of his friends would understand what he was talking about. But he would be as accurate and clear as possible in his speech.

“As you know,” he began, and everyone was silent paying attention (no one wanted to lose any part because they might not understand the rest), “the video was sent anonymously to the police, just as the call was made to them." Everyone nodded. “First, I'll explain how I managed to find the caller.”

Then followed an almost endless monologue. Namjoon's friends were so afraid of missing some detail of what he was explaining that they dared not ask any questions.

Almost without stopping to breathe, Namjoon explained that the call, despite being identified as anonymous, had a phone address (“almost like an IP address,” he explained to those who knew a bit more of computers than the others). All lines can be tracked as long as the call takes long enough for the tracking program to run, which happened in the denunciation call against Taehyung. Once Namjoon had found the address of the public telephone from which the call was made, he had no problem breaking into the city's camera system and pulling up the files from the date the call was made to see who had used the phone that day. After getting the image of the person's face, Namjoon ran a program that was linked to the civil identification system and quickly found the name, address, and identity of the person who made the call. With the name of the person in hand, it was not so complicated to find the person's private telephone and get the conversations by message and the calls exchanged between the person who made the denunciation call and someone who could incriminate Taehyung.

"Are you saying that in what, less than 24 hours you were able to link the person who made the anonymous call to Tae's stepfather?" Seokjin asked, wide-eyed just like the other boys, who were also gaping.

"In less than 12 hours," Namjoon replied with a shrug, "I did that last night."

Since no one asked another question like that, Namjoon thought everyone had understood and accepted the fact that he was very fast, and continued with his explanations, this time about how he had tracked who sent the video.

What Namjoon didn't know was that no one there had understood how he had done it so fast. It seemed extremely complex that he had access to all those systems and made such fast searches. But then Namjoon's friends remembered that he had been doing this for a long time and that when the police caught him for breaking into their system, he had already broken into several other systems around the city. He probably still remembered how to do that, or still had some kind of hidden access stored on his computer.

Namjoon's explanation of video tracking didn't seem as unlikely as call tracking, but it was just as absurd. According to Namjoon, the flash drive he inserted into the security company's computer to copy the original videos had a virus that he himself had created and put on the flash drive. By the time he connected the USB flash drive to the company's computer, the virus was in charge of replicating all of the company's system information, including online server network access passwords. Since he had already noticed that the person who sent the video to the police had actually tampered with the original videos, he simply accessed the security company files with the passwords he had copied and found out who had access to the original videos. That was when Taehyung's stepfather's involvement in the situation became even clearer.

“The truth is, the police went looking for the original videos,” Namjoon explained, lowering his voice as if someone could hear them through the thick walls. This was, in fact, a reflection of his discovering on Lee Minsuk's most important secret and the key to Taehyung's exoneration. “But who got these videos from the company was Lee Minsuk.”

"My stepfather?" Taehyung asked in amazement.

"But there's no claim to that in the case report," Jungkook intervened, amazed that something had happened and no one had registered.

"That's because he did something for the cops to forget about the original videos and his involvement in the case," Namjoon explained. "We have no way of knowing what it was or how he did it, but he did, and any jury or judge will come to that conclusion after seeing the company records saying it was him who took the videos."

"So, he was the one who tampered with the images?" Hoseok questioned.

"Not really," Namjoon replied, cracking a smile that let the others see his dimples. “Like I said, I have all the phone and message records of the caller who, believe it or not, was the same person who tampered with the video.”

"Did Lee Minsuk hire someone to incriminate Tae and was stupid enough to leave evidence against himself?" Yoongi asked, chuckling mockingly. “There really is no hope for the police in this city anymore.”

"Maybe he didn't know," Namjoon argued, speaking low again. “The messages I retrieved had been deleted. Perhaps he thought that by erasing the records on the phone, he could do the same on the phone company server registry. But he doesn't know this is no use and that all companies keep track of the last five years of all phones.”

"Glad he only got three years in prison, then," Jimin joked, making everyone laugh, including Taehyung who was extremely relieved to have his friends helping him out like that.

"Now we just need to figure out a way to send this to the authorities so they can reopen both cases and acquit Taehyung," Hoseok added. He was more than eager to contact his lawyer to begin the process of acquitting Taehyung.

"Wait a minute!" Jungkook almost shouted, getting up to place his two legs crossed under his body on the couch where he was already sitting. “How are we going to send this to the authorities if we can't trust the police? Because after all this tampered evidence, and they didn't even take Tae's mom's testimony about what happened at the house, even when she found Lee Minsuk there, we can't believe they'll do the right thing.”

Seokjin thought of the policewoman who was so enchanted by him that she forgot to watch the warehouse camera. Of course, that was exactly what he wanted, but it was another indication that they couldn't trust the police, not even the cops who wanted to do the right thing.

"I don't think we can count on your lawyer this time, Hoseok," Namjoon said before anyone else gave any opinion, because no one would deny that Jungkook was right. Neither of them was willing to risk letting the police tamper with the evidence again.

"But why...?" Hoseok asked.

"Because he won't be able to use any of our evidence," Namjoon replied, looking sad but resigned. “All of our evidence is authentic, but almost all of it was obtained in ways… let's say… well, illegal. With the exception of Mrs. Lee's examination and the complaint she promised to make, we broke into places and systems to get everything else. The lawyer cannot rely on stolen evidence, and he will not be able to do anything without it.”

“So, we're back to square one. We've got it all, but we can't use it, and meanwhile Taehyung is still being sought and that news is being relentlessly repeated on the news,” Seokjin said.

"Maybe not," Jimin said suddenly. His eyes were a little unfocused and he didn't seem to be looking at any of his friends, or anything specific to tell the truth. Jimin seemed to be in another world as he spoke, several possibilities running through his head, but when all eyes turned to him and no one said a word, he knew he must explain what he was thinking.

"Maybe we're not back to square one," Jimin said again. “Maybe we can use one of the weapons Lee Minsuk used against Taehyung. Of course, we're not going to tamper with anything, and we don't even have to, but let's make everyone realize what we perceive, that Tae is innocent and the previous evidence is false.”

"And how do you suggest we do that?" Yoongi asked.

"We can divulge it," Jimin replied with a shrug. “On the internet and on some television station. They accept almost anything as long as it's a good story.” Jimin saw that everyone else was slightly widened, but as they said nothing, he continued. “We can send a note explaining what we want to do and we don't have to say who we are. They also accept it if it's anonymous, as long as the content is good and not a lie.”

“This will make someone, if not everyone, more interested in a second investigation and perhaps this time the police will investigate properly and use the right evidence. Or maybe they'll even have another team investigate, a team that is not close to Taehyung's stepfather and is not influenced by him. There must be someone honest and competent in the police,” Hoseok said as soon as he realized what Jimin wanted to do with that plan.

They all smiled at each other. That was a good plan. It wasn't exactly what they wanted, especially since it would take Taehyung some time to be completely cleared, but for them, what mattered most was that their friend wouldn't end up behind bars.

They got up and prepared everything that would be needed. Namjoon wrote a brief note indicating what this was all about, and the others packed their evidence: copies of the files in the police evidence folder, flash drives with the original and tampered videos.

Before doing what they had just agreed to, Jimin called Taehyung's mother, wanting to explain to her what they would do and how it would help her son, which he knew Mrs. Lee wanted with all her strength. Once more surprised by the woman's courage, Jimin heard Mrs. Lee say that she didn't care how they would acquit her son as long as it happened. As if it were a prize for the woman's courage and kindness, Jimin let her and Taehyung talk (conversation that lasted more than half an hour due to the emotion of the two interlocutors), and Mrs. Lee agreed with her son that, as soon as the news with the information Taehyung's friends found came out in the media, she would go to the nearest police station and file the complaint against her husband.

Within hours everything was delivered to the studio door of a major television station, the one that was responsible for the most watched news in the country, the same one Lee Minsuk had used to spread the word about Taehyung.

The seven friends huddled in Namjoon's living room to watch the evening news, some even with fingers crossed in anticipation, and they felt a mixture of satisfaction and disbelief as they heard the reporters talking about the evidence they had sent.

Some footage of the video the station had received was broadcast on TV as reporters inquired about the truth and what was really going on in this case, which they now realized seemed to begin three years earlier, or even more, judging for Mrs. Lee's injuries that the doctor's report indicated. Reporters did not know where the evidence had come from, or whether it was true or legal, but they released it nonetheless, inciting (almost demanding, in fact) a further investigation. Almost exactly as Jimin had imagined would happen.

The young man was right about the population too, he realized. As the days went by, the population itself put pressure on the police, who assigned another team to reinvestigate Taehyung's case, now linking the three-year-old theft case with the current assault, involving all abuses of Lee Minsuk.

The seven friends could still hardly believe that they had finally been able to do justice when they saw policeman Lee Minsuk being handcuffed by his honest colleagues into a car.

Well, he was no longer a cop now, since he lost his badge. He had been found guilty of all charges, including harassment, personal injury, obstruction of justice, abuse of power, and a few others that Taehyung could not remember the exact words to say. Now Minsuk would serve an even greater sentence than he intended Taehyung to serve when he accused him.

Taehyung, who at that moment was hugging his mother with all his friends surrounding him as they watched his stepfather's arrest, had been cleared of all charges against him, with assault on the police being regarded as a legitimate defense of others. He didn't know before, but the definition of that term was exactly what he had felt and done the moment he used the bottle against his stepfather.

The young man decided not to give any kind of interview when the TV stations that were covering the arrest of the former policeman approached. He didn't need the visibility that could bring him. Now that he had gotten his freedom, he just wanted to enjoy it with his friends and his mother. After all, now that the seven were free and out of trouble, they could finally resume their lives. The right way this time.

[tearlessrain]

time to subject myself to Dracula: The Dark Prince, aka another bad movie starring another dude from black sails. this time with 100% less horny on main because my only real motivation for watching it is it truly looks to be a whole new caliber of horrible and I have to see it.

witness my standards for incomprehensibly bad movies being raised prohibitively high in every way imaginable under the cut

I seriously doubt that.

this was made in 2013 by the way, not 1994 as the graphic design of that logo might suggest

oh good, once again we’re opening with an exposition narrator. except this time it’s a woman and she has less vocal inflection and emotional investment than an amazon echo.

I feel like she’s gonna tell me to turn left in 800ft

it feels like a dragon age epilogue, but just. worse.

WE ARE WATCHING A TRULY HIGH QUALITY MOVIE TONIGHT MY FRIENDS

I can’t even describe how bad this is, you really need the sound. that’s where the true lack of quality shines through. siri’s depressed sister is talking about pre-vampire dracula’s epic feats in battle to more weird sepia dioramas and the dying soldiers sound like they hired muppets to voice them

HOLY WIG BATMAN

also this dude is obnoxiously jovial considering he’s supposed to be dracula, even if this is pre-vampire

oh no dracula’s advisors, who all wear black hooded robes and scowl ominously, have betrayed him and killed his wife, how unexpected

someone drew these, looked at them, and thought “yeah that’s good enough to go in the final movie”

the characters are speaking both english and what I assume is... romanian or something? transylvanian? it’s not spanish or welsh I can tell you that much. anyway there are no subtitles and also no rhyme or reason to which they’re speaking at any given time so I hope I’m not missing anything important. probably not.

so like... they killed his wife, yes. and he went on a murderfest in what appears to be a church in revenge, makes sense. now a dude who... I think maybe he’s supposed to be a priest or something? but he wasn’t speaking english so I can’t be sure, then a voice over said “I have killed for god, the hand that fought for him will now be turned against him” but I’m unclear on who was speaking. this movie is an absolute clusterfuck and we aren’t even five minutes in yet. this is still the prologue.

now zombie alexa claims dracula was cursed with immortality “in punishment for his defiance” but I’m still not sure... what defiance. he killed the dudes who murdered his wife and that’s somehow not okay despite his apparent status as a war hero, a designation that implies a LOT of killing has already happened?

fucking finally, the title screen. usually a prologue clarifies what a movie is about but I went in thinking I knew and now have absolutely no idea what I’m watching.

a carriage drawn by friesians is rolling through a misty forest with wolf howling sound bites playing at random in the background to vaguely urgent music, now this is what I’m here to see.

nevermind the carriage is too slow so they’re leaving it because that’s a thing people do (?????)

“Lady Arwen, we cannot delay”

seriously though everyone’s mumbling so much I can’t understand them much better than when they were speaking whatever the other language was

BOOTLEG XENA RIDES AGAIN

but this time she’s accompanied by esme. we don’t know who esme is yet either.

there she goes

and now the knights are being attacked by hilarious squeaky goblin things? who I guess are led by this power rangers villain with, again, an unintentionally hilarious voice. it’s like a bad batman impression.

with every minute that passes I become less certain of what I’m actually watching.

they’re looking for the “light bringer” and telepathically overseen by the world’s most halfassed lestat dracula

they’ve also got some random prisoners in a cage wagon

okay the prisoners are being taken to dracula’s castle and I’m sorry for such an image-heavy post but I NEED you to understand the community theater level of set design/quality we’re dealing with here

“what is that?” cardboard and mod podge is my guess

so far the only thing esme has done is fall off her horse and be knocked unconscious, and now a Roving Band of Misogynists has appeared to harass Bootleg Xena 3.0 in the most generic way possible (the words “what ‘ave we got ‘ere” accompanied by a chorus of malicious cackling and some whistles have been spoken)

oooh no the ringleader of the Roving Misogynists has been given a name, and it’s ~Lucien~. I have a horrible feeling that I’m about to bear witness to the worst romantic subplot in the history of cinema.

oh for... I thought at least bootleg xena 3.0 would be a Strong Female Character and fight them off, but she just rapped lucien on the head with her sword and then they stole her very important box and left as obnoxiously as they came

OH NO SHE’S ASKING TO GO WITH THEM, SOMEHOW THAT’S HER PLAN I THINK I’M RIGHT SHE’S GONNA HOOK UP WITH LUCIEN AND IT’S GOING TO BE HORRIBLE.

“trust me” she says to esme, who, wisely, obviously does not.

I appreciate the timely thunderclap every single time the castle comes on screen

who the fuck are you, did you wander onto the wrong movie set

nope okay they’re not gonna explain that shot at all we’re just moving on to a shot of a weird angel shadow doing slow flamenco moves on the ceiling while ominously gurgling, and the prisoners being led into the throne room

“what’s happening to us?” I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW THE SAME THING, PRISONER #3

oh never mind that guy from before wasn’t a priest, he is remfield, chancellor of this kingdom, which means the last scene he was in makes even less sense

AKSLDGHJFGAKDLFJGHKAJGHFDKLFDS;GJokay so. remfield introduced himself then said “I will see that your needs are tended to.” then dracula in his new white contacts gets up from his shadowy throne, circumnavigates the cluster of prisoners, sniffs them dramatically, and walks back to his throne. remfield then says, “come, I will see that your needs are tended to” because proofreading is for COWARDS

now remfield is... literally giving the prisoners a tour of the castle and going on the “oh you’re our guests and many pleasures and adventures await you” speech and somehow the prisoners are accepting this despite the fact that they were just carted in on a barred wagon in shackles and got sniffed by a bad alucard cosplayer. they have a fucking harpist.

seriously, who the fuck are you

she’s just been twirling around in the background of this entire scene for no discernible reason no matter what rooms they go into

what the hell am I watching

yeah they’re just going for that incredibly suspicious food and also seem weirdly okay with the ambient clusters of scantily clad lesbians no one will explain okay they deserve whatever happens to them

WHOA TITS apparently this movie is a different rating than I thought

remfield: the newcomers have settled in

dracula: I  d o n ‘ t  l i k e  s t r a n g e r s

then why pray tell have you brought them directly into your home in chains. I cannot stress enough how avoidable this situation was for you my dude

“just think sire, once the light bringer is in your possession no one need die again” “except those who defy me” [ominous chime as the angel shadow on the ceiling continues its sensuous flamenco dance]

meanwhile in the misty blue filter forest of eternal night, some guy in a tricorn finds a gold amulet that I think bootleg xena 3.0 dropped, and the power ranger villain rides menacingly in a random direction for a few seconds

I’m still waiting on whether this masterful display of cinematic calvinball has any cohesive story to it.

ah joy and we’re back to The Non-Adventures of Xena 3.0, Esme, and the Roving Misogynists

as an aside, I’m not calling her that just to be dumb, I’m calling her that because they still haven’t given her a name even though her sidekick got one in the first five minutes

they’ve opened the box and revealed... the light bringer, which is a wooden staff. because it is not shiny gold, the roving misogynists regard it with confounded disgrunglement and scoff at xena 3.0′s insistence that it can defeat dracula

these guys sound like what an eleven year old thinks gangs of ne’er-do-wells sound like. like cartoon weasels, if the weasels were also mediocre pirates who have heard of women, conceptually, but never seen one. like goblins in a pre-written D&D campaign run by a slightly overwhelmed first time DM.

HUR DUR WALKING STICK NOT TREASURE, WOMAN DUMB

it’s what cain used to slay abel, apparently. given that zombie alexa mentioned that dracula is the descendent of abel, this leaves us with the terrifying implication that someone did put at least some vestige of effort into writing this movie.

oh good she’s finally gonna fight lucien

no she failed again. please someone just punch the shit out of lucien so he’ll stop.

NO WHY ARE YOU MAKING OUT STOP IT GOD HAVE SOME STANDARDS WOMAN. STOP PLAYING FLOATY ROMANTIC MUSIC IN THE BACKGROUND THEY ARE LITERALLY STILL STANDING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ENTIRE BAND OF ROVING MISOGYNISTS

I thought it might at least be a trick but no she is actually, genuinely starstruck over this profoundly mediocre olde-timey frat boy who called her “sweetheart” while she was trying to explain to him why the ancient dracula-defeating relic was important.

this guy.

we did it boys, we found a worse love story than twilight

also I just. I wish I could convey with words the way the roving misogynists react to every single thing lucien and sometimes xena 3.0 says like the world’s worst greek chorus in a literally neverending stream

lucien (post makeout and xena 3.0 explaining again that the relic is ancient and powerful and they’ve searched for ages to find it): well we may not be knights but we can respect that

[cacophony of rowdy but understated agreement]

lucien: what do you think boys, should we give it back?

[assorted grumbles of assent]

xena 3.0: hm, a thief with a conscience

[gruff mercenary-esque chuckling]

lucien: maybe even a heart

[chorus of “ooooooOOOooh”s and some whistles]

it just goes on like that in every scene they happen to be physically adjacent to, they never shut up but also never actually contribute or say anything meaningful

ah, the mysterious leonardo has appeared. I think he was the one they were trying to take the light bringer to so that’s handy

“what is happening here? what is this flirtation?? is this the people to share your sacred secrets with???” - leonardo, the only remotely rational person in the entire movie

oh he is schooling these idiots, finally someone with sense. it’s bouncing right off of lucien, but at least he’s saying it.

“the scourge” - leonardo

“scourge!” “scourge!?” “scourge?” “hrgghhg??” “hrrm...” - the roving misogynists

power ranger villain and his squeaking goblins vs leonardo, the most useless female leads of all time, and the roving misogynists. who will win.

not the people watching this movie, I can tell you that much.

oh no, the lightbringer isn’t working. this will do nothing to convince the roving misogynists that it isn’t a walking stick

oop, wilhelm scream

oh no lucien has picked up the light bringer

goddamn it he’s the chosen one isn’t he

yep he activated the stick and now we all have to suffer

oh xena 3.0′s coming for power ranger villain maybe she’ll actually do something

nope she bounced off him and now he’s grabbed her and hauled her onto his horse

“you’re coming with me” he says in his weird batman voice, to make sure the audience can tell that he is in fact taking her with him

and esme has yelled “no” to make sure we remember that she’s in the movie

wait what the. did lucien just yell “xena” is that her actual name what the fuck. what the fuck. I had to have misheard that. okay I can’t tell what he’s saying for sure but someone’s bound to say her name again at some point in the movie so I’ll revisit that.

and on that note, I think I’ll end here, because there ended up being a LOT more to unpack in this movie than I expected, it’s after midnight, and I’m tired.

tomorrow, we follow lucien as he presumably goes to save some lady he wildly disrespected and then made out with one time whose name may or may not actually be xena, and hopefully figure out what the hell is even going on with dracula, remfield, and their castle full of artfully strewn half naked harpist lesbians and dancing ceiling shadows. because right now I really don’t have time to unpack all that, and I have a feeling it will only get worse.

[fairstarlights]

Influence - Chapter 7

Summary: With everyone gone and out of the way for a couple days, Patton was looking forward to a few quiet days by himself. Nothing can really be that easy. Pairings: Moxiety, (one sided) Prinxiety, Logince (eventually) Chapter Word Count: Long Genre: Romance/A bit of angst General Story Warning: Depression, anxiety, intense fear, slightly graphic descriptions of nightmares (death,injury), overwhelming feelings, supportive Virgil, eventual fluff and happy ending. Chapter Warnings:  A brief Deceit mention, that’s it. This chapters tame. Notes: As you will see. It’s starting to get romantic. Kinda cutesy, still a bit of angst cause I can’t seem to let go of it yet hahaha. But its almost over and I’m pretty much gonna make you wait as long as possible for the really big outcome to happen. I mean you’re gonna get all the romance and fluff I can possibly dish out in 8 to half of 10 but you also get a surprise in this chapter. 

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [You are here] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] (crossed out if not yet posted)

“Crap crap!” Virgil whispered. He didn't have much time to think or do much else before his door was thrown open.

“Roman, calm down!” Came Patton's voice from behind Roman, who was now standing in the doorway.

“Who else would have gone to Thomas?” Roman said, turning to Patton. “He is Morality now. He probably thinks its his moral obligation to get Thomas in on this.” Virgil frowned.

“Hey! Don't forget I was once Morality too, I wouldn't have done that in this situation.”

“Yeah, but this is Virgil, not you.” That stung and Virgil felt the anger bubble up in his chest.

“I don't understand why you hate me.” Virgil kept his voice calm, but there was a hint of hurt in his voice. Roman turned to him. “I haven't even done anything to you or anyone else. This Influence thing, yeah, I could have told you. That is my fault, but I didn't expect in my wildest dreams that Patton, of all people, would return my feelings.” Virgil looked at Patton, who was barely visible, then back to Roman, who held no expression. “I didn't expect you to-” Virgil paused. What word could he use? De-humanize? No. They weren't human. De-Side? Virgil eyebrows shot up and his lips turned up. Oh my god. That was an actual word. Virgil covered his mouth as a laugh almost escaped him. It wasn't that funny, it really wasn't.

“Virgil?” Came Logan's voice and Virgil turned around. “This really isn't the time for laughter.” After a few seconds Virgil composed himself but didn't turn around. Man, he was still really tired. He rubbed his eyes then paused. Wait. He turned around so fast it started everyone. “Uh, sorry, but I gott-”

Tug

Okay, that one hurt and it showed on everyone's faces.

“You guy's go to Thomas, see what he wants. I'll join you in a few minutes.” Virgil said as he headed toward his bathroom.

“Uh...what are you doing?” Patton asked.

“I'm just curious.” Virgil paused at the entrance of the bathroom, “Oh, Patton. I don't know how you should arrive. You can try rising up or just appearing, if you can even do that. I'm not sure if the appearing is something I can do because I've always been a darker side, but do whatever feels natural.” He didn't wait for an answer as he walked in and closed the door behind him.

He was in the bathroom for about five minutes before he finally sunk out and rose up Thomas' living room. Huh. He didn't get light-headed. He was in his usual spot on the stairs. It was unnaturally quiet, everyone was staring at him and Thomas was giving him a concerned look.

“Sup?” He said casually. No one answered, just more staring. “Okay, now you're making me feel self conscious.” Thomas was the first one to speak.

“I think, I can fairly speak for everyone here when I say we are all just a bit...surprised.”

Virgil shrugged, “Does it look bad?”

Thomas blinked and put his hands up, “No! It's just unexpected. You always have your eye shadow on.” Thomas went to look away but he looked over Virgil a bit more then looked at everyone else. As if looking for answers. No one said anything, till Logan finally spoke up.

“I expect you summoned us here for a reason, Thomas?”

“Well, yeah.” Thomas as he pushed his hair back. “I feel kind of off. I though I'd check in. Is something up?” He seemed to look directly at Virgil when he said the last part. That wasn't completely unexpected, though he wished he had kept the eye shadow on now. He didn't need it now, but it was apart of him. Like Patton's cat hoodie. He wanted to sink down and reapply it.

Patton eyed Virgil and he had caught it but didn't say anything. Roman was being unusually quiet and it was going to give the impression something was wrong away. Although, they really should tell Thomas. Virgil was conflicted. If he was asked, of course he wasn't going to lie. None of them lied to Thomas. No one that currently had a physical presence in the room was going to anyway.

Thomas looked around at everyone and when he realized he wasn't going to get an answer he sighed. “Okay, I get it, its a Deceit thing, right?” Still no one answered. Virgil internally groaned, of course they were going to leave this up to him and Patton.

“No, its not Deceit. There is something going on, you're not wrong about that.” Virgil looked at Patton who was covering his eyes with hand, his glasses pushed up. Virgil looked back to Thomas, who had followed Virgil's gaze and was staring at Patton.

“What's wrong with Patton? He doesn't look like he feels good.”

“He probably doesn't, honestly.” Virgil looked back at Patton. “He is- I mean...” Virgil closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Patton isn't Morality and I'm not Anxiety anymore.”

“Whoa, hey! Hold up!” Virgil opened his eyes and looked at Thomas, who looked beyond confused. “How did that happen? What does that even mean? Does another Side have it?”

“Yeah, meet the new Anxiety.” Virgil tilted his head towards Patton. Thomas looked at Patton, who smiled sheepishly. Thomas just looked lost. “I'm the new Morality.” There was a long silence. Roman looked bored and Logan was looking on in interest.

“How?” Thomas finally asked. How was Thomas going to react to his own aspect of his personality falling for each other? He was apart of Thomas, he was Thomas' Morality now, he should know how he would feel about it. But he didn't. Instead he felt every emotion in the room. Confusion, anger, curiosity, anxiousness but yet a lot of love. It was overwhelming. How did Patton do this everyday?

“I feel in love with Patton. When darker sides have feelings for another side their, uh- trait or their aspect, becomes shared.” He explained the rest to Thomas in full detail. He even explained the transfer that happened not that long ago. Thomas opened and closed his mouth a few times, making him look kind of like a fish. Virgil looked around the room and noticed that Patton was gone. Virgil looked around the room, had he sunk out already? Oh no.

“I'm right here.” Virgil jumped and looked down. Patton was sitting on one of the steps, leaning against the banister. Virgil couldn't see Patton's face as he was faced away but his emotions were all over the place, Patton needed to calm down. Virgil sat beside Patton but didn't look at him. He looked to Logan  and hoped his eyes convey the words he was thinking. Logan didn't seem to understand at first. Virgil looked back to Thomas who was still looking on in silence. Logan sighed.

“We will take it from here.” Virgil nodded and took Patton's hand.

“Come on, Pat. Let's go talk.”

“Yeah. Leave us to work out your problems while you two love birds go talk about your feelings.”

“Roman. I know you're angry with Virgil, but you're being extra inconsiderate and rude. I've given situation more thought and I don't believe Virgil did anything wrong to warrant any of your words or behaviors towards him.”

“What words and behaviors?” Thomas piped up, looking at Roman. The Prince looked down at the floor, arms crossed tightly against his chest.

“He hasn't been the kindest towards Virgil since this whole ordeal began.”

“I thought you two were getting along now.”

“I did too.” Virgil said. “But then he turned around and called me a monster.”

“I called Anxiety a monster.” Roman grumbled.

“Roman, I am- or was Anxiety! When I was Anxiety, I used to be treated awful. When Patton became Anxiety you didn't treat him badly, You felt sorry for him and babied him. I don't know why me being Anxiety is different than Patton becoming Anxiety. No matter who has it, its the same thing!” Virgil snapped. “Come on, Patton. Neither of us need this right now.” Virgil looked up at Thomas, regret in his eyes, “I'm sorry, Thomas. I'll fix this. I promise. Then they both sunk out.

Patton turned to Virgil, “We shouldn't have left.”

“I know, that probably wasn't the best decision but I was kind of thinking in your best interest at the time, which is also Thomas' best interest. The more anxious you become the more taxing it is on Thomas.” Patton sighed and made his way to the kitchen, Virgil followed but stopped at the entry. Patton started gathering ingredients and tools he needed for whatever he was going to make. Virgil leaned against the wall as he watched.

Before long Patton had many things going. Dinner was being prepared and desserts were being prepped. He knew Patton stressed baked, but was this going to help the anxiety? Virgil wasn't going to object to it or voice any doubts. If Patton thought it would work, he would at least let him try. Although, Patton still looked pretty tense. He hated seeing Patton like this, it made his insides twist and he wanted to fix it. Virgil turned around and ran up the stairs. He came back a minute later and tapped Patton on the shoulder. Patton turned around and his eyes widened.

“What- what happened to you?” Virgil shrugged and handed the two ipods to Patton.

“Just use one of these. Music used to help me when I was stressed out.” Patton looked down at them, he looked angry almost instantly.

“You went into my room!” Virgil put his hands up.

“Hey, I was just trying to help.”

“You know what my room does to you!”

“Yeah, I know better than you do. It used to be my emotional influence..” Virgil said defensively. “The other influence. Not the one we are going through now.” Patton rolled his eyes and turned back to what he was doing.

“Patton. I know this is going to be hard, but you have to work with me. We are practically opposites here. You are a ray of sunshine and I'm this ever looming storm cloud.”

“Except now you're the ray of sunshine and I'm the storm.”

“No! No our personalizes haven't changed! Patton-” Virgil reached out his hand but Patton spun around and Virgil stopped, Patton was crying.

“No! We have changed! I'm not ‘Happy- Pappy-Patton’ anymore. I'm not good anymore Virgil. I'm useless.” Virgil gritted his teeth.

“Okay. Stop.” He gets this now. This is how he always acts, self defeating, putting himself down. Feeling like no one loves him when they actually do. Okay. He may still feel that last one, except when with Patton. If Patton could make him feel loved, he could sure make Patton feel that same. 

He going to woo Patton so hard, with friendship and love, Patton will never doubt how Virgil feels about him. He would make Patton feel like his normal self again, even with Anxiety within in. He would smile again, make those stupid yet adorable puns, giggle and laugh. He missed those giggles already. Virgil walked over beside Patton and looked over the ingredients. “It looks like you're making cookies. Cinnamon?”

“Snickerdoodle.”

“Can I help?” Patton blinked in surprise but nodded. Together, they spent the evening cooking dinner and baking three batches of cookies. There was a lot of laughter, flour being thrown around, Patton smeared cookie dough on had whispered 'Simba' and they had laughed so hard that Virgil slipped on something on the floor and fell, taking Patton down with him.

Now they were am awkward mix of limbs on the floor. Patton was still giggling and so was Virgil. He still had cookie dough on his head and it was starting to feel weird. “It is bothering you?” Patton asked as he looked down at Virgil, who he was laying on top of.

“Kinda. It feels like its getting kinda stiff.” Virgil paused and adverted his eyes. He may be Morality but unlike Patton, he wasn't clueless to the innuendos he would accidentally make.

“I can fix that.” Virgil looked up at him.

“Uh, I just get-” Patton leaned down and licked the cookie dough off his forehead. Whoa. That must have been all over his face because suddenly Patton looked horrified and untangled them, sat back with his eyes wide.

“I don't know what came over me. That was so impulsive!” Patton stood up, so did Virgil and Virgil caught is arm before Patton could run off. He knew this game, he's done this his whole darn life. He wasn't going to let Patton do this. He loved him way too much to let Patton go down these hills.

“Patton. It's okay.” He said softy. He was shaking a bit inside himself and he knew it was from the physical contact. He could feel the anxiety coming off of Patton in sharp waves.

“No, Virgil. We aren't even toge-uh. Nevermind.” The anxiety was starting to drain away and was doing into defeat.

“Patton. You know this already, cause I told you and we are going through this, but I love you. We wouldn't be going through this if I didn't. If you didn't. I wouldn't be trying to help you if I didn't care. I may not be Anxiety anymore, but you know how much I hate working or trying too hard on anything. It's still the same. I still don't like working cause that's me. I'm just lazy.” 

Patton gave a small giggle and Virgil smiled. “You're Anxiety now, but yet you're making yourself go into the kitchen and make dinner for everyone. Even if it is stress baking, its still doing something. If it was me? I would have gone into my room and never left until someone forced me out. That or I became desperate for food.

You're already doing so much better than me and I'm so impressed and proud of you, Pat. Sure, I have to stop you from running away because I don't want to suffer. If you are going to suffer, don't do it alone.” Patton had tears in his eyes and then he began sobbing. Virgil wrapped his arms around Patton and the other, who was only a few inches taller, buried his face into Virgil's shoulder. After the crying had stopped they didn't let go of each other but Patton said something, quietly, and Virgil wasn't sure he'd ever hear after they had switched. “I love you too, so very much.”

No one appeared in the living room/commons at all that evening and if Patton was worried he didn't show it or feel it. They had finished dinner hours ago and were watching movies. They still had their same preference (“See, Pat? I told you we wouldn't change that much.”). Sometime during a movie Patton had confessed he hadn't felt right using the word 'kiddo' anymore. Virgil wanted to say it was all in his head, but no one wanted to hear that, ever. Especially people who lived inside of someone elses head. Instead, Virgil told him to give it time. Eventually, Patton fell asleep, his head was on Virgil's lap. His breathing was stable and he felt relaxed. No nightmares tonight. Virgil ran a hand through Patton's hair and played with it between his pointer finger and thumb idly. He couldn't bring himself to take Patton to his room. He would just have nightmares. Virgil had nightmares in his own room all the time.

Virgil couldn't Patton to either of their rooms. They couldn't visit each others rooms too long, but, did that really matter right now? Patton needed some peace. Carefully, he scooted out from under Patton and picked up Patton's sleeping form bridal style. He walked up the steps and made his way towards his own room. He paused when he heard a cough. Virgil turned to see Roman standing in his own door way.

“Can I talk to you.” He looked at Patton. “When you've dropped off Pat.” Virgil didn't say anything for a long time. “Look, I know I haven't been the best to you recently. I just want to talk.” Virgil nodded his head back down towards his room. He tucked Patton in, giving him a kiss on the forehead, whispering that he would be back soon and left the room, leaving the door cracked slightly. He met Roman right where he left him.

“Okay. I'm here.”

“Before you make you make any snarky, mean sarcastic comments-”

“I won't.” Virgil interrupted. Roman eyebrows shot up and looked slightly amused.

“I appreciate it I guess, but may I ask, why the hell not?”

Virgil crossed his arms, “I am Morality. I may want to say mean sarcastic things at you but it makes feel guiltier than usual. So I'll just think it and just feel guilty that way instead.” Roman looked confused and concerned.

“Alrighty!” Roman smiled forcefully. “Anyway. I feel like I should apologize for how I've been acting. I guess certain stuff has been getting to me lately and then you and Patton happened and it just- it took me by surprise and then-” Roman laughed. “-its just stupid.”

Virgil frowned and crossed his arms, Roman was sad and it was getting worse. “Roman, I don't know what you're talking about, but if you need to talk I'll listen. I'm not great at advise, that's not really not something I'm good. I'm good at listening though.” Virgil smiled. Roman's cheeks flushed and his eyes widened.

“That might not be a good idea.” Virgil shrugged.

“Whenever you're feeling up to it, if ever. We've spend a lot of time hanging out, Ro. I've enjoyed our adventures if your realms, even if they could they could get intense sometimes. I don't want our friendship to end over a miscommunication.” Roman stared intensely down at the carpet.

“There was a huge miscommunication. I'm sorry I didn't speak up sooner.” Virgil had a feeling they weren't talking about the same thing anymore, but he wasn't going to push it.

“It's fine, it's all in the past anyway. You didn't mean those things you said, or you did I know you regret it now. Either way, we all make mistakes. Let's just call this a day, Roman, it's late and I'm exhausted from earlier.” Virgil turned to leave but paused. “If you're hungry, go to Lo that Pat and I saved you both a plate.” Virgil smiled. “Goodnight, Princey.” He walked towards his bedroom when Roman's voice stopped him.

“I was in love with you.” Virgil spun around.

“What?”

“I thought...I thought we bonded over our trips.” Roman whispered. “That's why I invited you to go with me all the time. You always looked so impressed. You thought I didn't see it, the way we would team up to fight the monsters and beasts. Or the way I would always try to find ways to take down the DragonWitch but would always end up...heh...” Roman rubbed his arm at the memory. “That was the first time I really ever hurt myself trying to do something and all because I was doing to try to impress you.” Roman's smile faded. “When I felt those feelings of love, I was- I was so happy. My feeling were requited. Then I felt the same feelings around Patton later down the road, then Logan. It was all really messed up and it was all jumbled. I couldn't connect the lines! I couldn't tell who was in love with who. There was something interfering with my connection.”

“It was probably me and Pat.” Roman remained quiet. Virgil sighed and scratched his nose. “Ro, I'm sorry things didn't go down the way you had hoped and planned. Things don't always happen the way you think it will. You probably know that better than any of us.” Roman chuckled.

“Yeah. I guess I do. It doesn't make it hurt any less.”

“No. Prolly, not.” Virgil frowned at a thought hit him, “You said Logan you felt Logan having some sort of romantic feelings, right?” Roman nodded. “Did you tell him that you were in love with me?”

“Of course I did! Who else was I going to tell?” Virgil rolled his eyes and turned back around.

“You're an idiot, Princey.”

“Hey, I though you said no snarky remarks!”

“That wasn't snark. It was a fact.” Virgil gave Roman an amused look over his shoulder, “I would suggest you think about who Logan has feelings for, when you figure it out, well I guess the rest is up for you to decide what to do with that information.” Virgil did his two fingered salute and shuffled sleepily into the room. He climbed into the bed and got as close to Patton as possible. He had never been the 'big spoon' before, or any kind of spoon. It was nice. He wrapped his hands around Patton's waist and then kissed the back of Patton's head. If anyone heard what he said next, he would deny it will his and Thomas' very last breath.

“I'm going to right here with you, I won't leave you. I'll protect you. You're safe. Until you are back to normal, I will be the sunshine that comes in on your dark and stormy days. I promise.” Virgil closed his eyes and dreamed about a smiling Patton, with no anxiousness coursing through the core of him. He was the light again, but there was something else. Something stepped out of Patton, it was grief, cold, angry, hurt and lonely. Virgil shivered, that was so much. The image before him began to waver and and form into something else. It burred briefly, Virgil only blinked once and the forms had changed completely. There was no more Patton. It was him. He was staring at himself. Virgil reached out to touch the hurt parts was stopped by some invisible force. How was he supposed to deal with it, if there was a invisible wall?

'Virgil' Wait... what was that?

'Virgil...” the voice sounded familiar. Who was it?

'Virgil wake the hell up!'

Virgil jolted awake and sat up. He looked around. This wasn't his room. His mind replayed last nights events. Oh yeah. He looked over to Patton who looked concerned.

“Mornin'” Virgil said with a small smile. Patton didn't return it.

“You sounded like you were having a bad dream. I think it was because you were holding on to me all night.”

Virgil shook his head, “Don't think so.” He rubbed an eye with the palm of his hand, “I always have nightmares. That's not abnormal.” Patton pursed his lips then sighed, seeming to let it go.

“Want breakfast?” Patton asked with a soft smile.

“Heck yes.”

General Tag List:

@steampoweredskeleton

Tag List: If, ya know, the notifications are working!

@a-lexicon-of-words

@cocoa-fells

@queva8

@shattereddreamsamongotherthings

@b0bsy0urunc13

@secretlyanxiouspersona​

@radioactivehelena

@yangsembercelica

@romanssippycup

@ab-artist

@entpscarleharrrr

@yourhappypappypatton (if you were tagged and have already read this if just means a chapter is coming soon and I want to be able to copy and paste this later ahah...)

(Want tagged? Let me know.)

[progmanx]

So? Part 2?

Well, now that it’s been released digitally, I can actually answer this question. Thank you for your patience. So, uh, spoilers, if you haven’t read Turf Wars Part 2 yet. I guess.

Short version: It’s just as bad as Part 1 (if not worse), but for slightly different reasons. For mine and @lokgifsandmusings‘s thoughts on Part 1, you can read our several articles about the first installment, as well as our good friend Bo’s take on Part 2 who makes some excellent points on why nothing works. I’m going to do my best not to reiterate the things he’s discussed, as I think his work does a better job of laying out that argument than I could. So go read that first, if you want.

Slightly Longer Version (That’s Shorter Than The Short Version?): Mike (there’s no way Bryan is actually consulting on anything aside from the art; Asami is his baby) clearly neglected to rewatch his own series/re-read his own series bible, and the scope of this negligence goes so far beyond nitpicking it’s baffling. The narrative threads and characterization of our two heroes are jumbled and essentially nonsensical.

Extremely Long Version: Sigh. I would like to preface this by asserting that my opinion of Turf Wars is in no way related to the work I did with RRaU, or Spin the Rails as a whole. Sure, I thought a lot about the world and this relationship, but frankly no conclusion I came to couldn’t also be reached by anyone else who puts in the time. Just because Mike continued the narrative differently doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like it automatically. The fact of the matter is, I really wanted to like this. It just so happens that the method Mike chose is…like, kind of the worst possible amalgamation of bad narrative decisions he could make short of turning full edgelord.

This got extremely long, hence the moniker, so it’s under the cut.

Anyway, my problems and critiques of Turf Wars are that of the product itself, how it chooses to continue the story of the animated series proper.

Now that that’s out of the way: I kind of hate almost everything about it. Yeah, I’m probably gonna lose followers for that. I want queer rep, and I want it badly, but if we can’t even criticize what we get without getting thrown out onto the street, how will it get any better? It’s not all or nothing.

Not even Turf Wars is all or nothing. I still stand by what @lokgifsandmusings and I said in our pieces regarding Part 1: It’s an overall good thing that it exists, and it’s not hurting anyone. However, that does not mean I think it itself is actually anything close to good, narratively speaking.

If I really had to boil down all of my problems with this…since Bo’s argument regarding how these books are overly stuffed with narratives that have no connection to one another aside from the fact that Asami gets kidnapped (we’re gonna dissect that one) and that none of it actually serves any purpose other than treading water for…something is so comprehensive and great. Seriously, read it!

Fact of the matter is, there’s no reason for any of these narratives to exist. It doesn’t push anyone’s character forward, with the exception of Zhu Li, Toguka (who even cares?), possibly Keum, and I guess by default Raiko by making him more of a jerk. None of those characters are the principal cast, meaning that this whole damn thing is, as far as I can see, really weird, overwritten filler.

Filler for what? I have no earthly idea, but if the only thing that changes out of this graphic novel series is that Zhu Li becomes President, then…you could have done that off-screen. Like how Raiko won. Neither Bryan nor Mike know how to write politics (or business, but that’s another conversation) so why not? Saves a lot of time.

Okay, so, there’s one other change that could happen in this “filler arc”. And it’s something that everything so far seems to be pointing to as a resolution. For anything to make sense, Asami has to basically say to Korra, “I’m a liability and will only keep getting in the way, so we either have to keep our relationship a secret or break up.” Probably to get rejected by Korra, or the world, or something. Which is just…terrible and ridiculous, as I’ll outline more in this post/rant/essay/dissertation. It has nothing to do with them being a same-sex couple, which is somehow both not as bad (because that shouldn’t matter) and worse (because of Kya’s infodump in Part 1).

Anyway, on to the biggest issues above all: our two “protagonists”. Well, more like the title character and also that lady she’s banging. Because it’s really hard to see how Korra and Asami are actually relevant to any of the narrative threads in this story aside from the ones they are forcibly pulled into so they can react to things. And this isn’t even accounting for how Mike is somehow able to write literally everyone else just fine except for Korra and Asami! It’s so freaking weird!

Korra, even more than she was in Part 1, has been almost comically back dialed to her Book 1 characterization. At best, it’s Book 2, but that is a stretch. Everything she does it to try and bust some heads, and even goes out of her way to physically assault Raiko’s campaign advisor. This isn’t even accounting the flagrant abuse of the Avatar State in Part 1, or the many other microaggressions that keep popping up.

Book 4 Korra would not do this. That was like—it’s her whole fucking series arc. She doesn’t look for fights! She tries to resolve them before they get bad, and especially with Asami she backs down and tries to diffuse and explain the situation. Like, you know, that time when Asami snapped at her in 4x07 in contrast to how Mako snapped at her also in 4x07?

But it goes deeper than tossing out years of character growth because “lol conflict”. I felt that the interactions between Korra and Asami here read embarrassingly straight. What I mean by that is, it’s how I imagine a straight dude would believe “special” relationships (ie queer, who aren’t) should be written. It’s something that a lot of non-queer writers struggle with, since there’s this false belief that treating those “different” from you as unique or better props them up, when in reality it artificially props them up in a way that is inherently insincere. Mike wants to show us he understands how important this relationship is, and how it’s important to him, but the words he’s choosing have the opposite effect.

It reminds me of the “Magical Negro” trope that originated in Hollywood as an absurd, and then eventually harmful, overcompensation for making sure people knew that they weren’t racist by making every minority character in a given film the perfect wisdom to set the hero on their journey. It’s same basic principle, as Mike is trying to make sure as loudly as possible that we know he’s super supportive of all of this…but the outcome is just plain weird and dangerous, even though his intentions are absolutely good.

Remember that bit in Part 1 where Asami says that the Spirit World is special and unique, like their relationship? Welp. It’s not. It was exceptionally well-written and true-to-life in its queerness but I guess not anymore, huh?

They’re more caricatures of their former selves than they are actual characters in these moments. The purest irony here is that these scenes, the “relationship scenes”, are actually pandering. Like, while the show wasn’t and yet anti-korrasami people kept yelling that it was (it wasn’t; that’s not how animation production works) boom, here we go. Actual pandering. (And yes, this is an entirely subjective opinion, but isn’t that kinda what this ask was for?)

Thirsty Asami, Overprotective Korra; these characterizations not only don’t make sense, but they’re exactly what the fandom has been asking for despite neither of them really fitting at all with previous characterizations. These things are supposed to build off one another, and yet they just go in random directions. Okay, fine, in fairness, Thirsty Asami only doesn’t make sense in the context we see it here, rather than a general sense. She can be horny, but that was the weirdest segue to that sort of tone, and it felt shoehorned in as fanservice. Need proof? Look no further:

I mean, seriously? The final lines of the TV show? That’s…every single fanfic writer has at least considered doing that because of the free sentimentality points due to the emotions attached to that final scene, but good lord that is some blatant not-helpful fanservice that, to me, feels automatically pandering right there.

Because that’s what their relationship reads as in these comics. Fanservice. It’s meaningless fluff that seems as though it’s actively refusing to progress either character in personal and communal growth. It serves no other purpose than to reinforce the idea that Asami is a liability (and that Korra’s feelings are the so super strong for her you guys that she’s overprotective lmao). Which is so beyond absurd a notion to have, according to the show itself, because Korra has been present for almost every doofus Asami has decked:

This is also depicted in the end of Part 1, where Korra chooses to save Asami (who is either drunk or high as balls considering her hilariously inept and counter-canon combat performance) from a rock instead of Tokuga. Which just ties into what happens to Asami at the end of Part 2. Yes, the kidnapping. I already talked about the kidnapping, and lo and behold, I was right. Tokuga kidnaps Asami to get to Korra (how original!), and is weirdly okay with them being in a relationship. Remember that homophobia in this universe that may still exist in the Fire Nation because nobody bothered to clarify that? Welp, apparently it didn’t mean squat because Korra just flat out tells a security guard that she’s dating Asami when they were all like “hey let’s keep this to ourselves for the time being”. Even the supervillains don’t care that queer people exist, I guess?

Which of course leads to this scene:

Okay, no. No, there are…so, so many ways to get out of this scenario. First, that’s not a real knife. It’s a fire made in the shape of a blade. It does have mass, but whatever level of “sharpness” it has can’t really retain shape because it’s FIRE. It’s not ice. Asami could presumably just run through it, suffering some nasty burns, and jump to safety because there are plenty of people there who could catch her. Second, that dude is an old man. Asami has taken down multiple terrorists simultaneously. She could just kick him in the balls with her heel. It’s super easy. Third, Asami has been trained in “self-defense” since her mother was murdered (we’ll circle back to this) by firebenders, the implication being that it was the Agni Kai Triad.

So, Hiroshi, being a hardcore genocidal anti-bender crazy person with a daughter insists that she start learning to defend herself at the age of like 5…what do you think those lessons are? I’ve covered this in my Jings and Other Things post, but frankly it doesn’t take a whole lot of thought to realize that “oh he’d make sure she was trained to fight against benders.” That actually circles back to point two, since hey, remember how firebending works?

Remember when Uncle Iroh was all “firebending comes from the breath, not the muscles”? Which lead to Zhao getting his butt kicked by Zuko? All Asami has to do is knock the wind out of this old geezer and jump. Or break his concentration, because, again, not a real knife. This is something she would absolutely know.

Elbow his stomach, kick him in the balls, bite his knuckles, break his nose with the back of her head, kick out his legs, throw herself backwards—the list goes on. Something so fundamental to the universe, to the point that it was sort of Zuko’s whole thing, rebelling against Sozin’s perverted firebending teachings (DANCING DRAGON FORM) through the previous series, being ignored and seemingly retconned because…Mike forgot? And didn’t do any research on his own work to make sure it remained consistent? Uh, okay.

You don’t need to be an action director to think of any of these, especially if you’ve seen the TV show in question. Also, just as an aside to Korra not being able to locate Asami…she, uh, has spirit GPS? Remember that? Through the vines? Found Wu, and Jinora. Just kind supports my theory that Mike forgot to watch his own show. Since that was like, important to Korra’s healing arc.

Anyway, for Asami’s character as a whole…good lord. I don’t…she’s, again, either drunk or high as balls. I mean how else do you explain her being super chill and okay with working with Zhu Li in the first place? Didn’t her husband steal her company? Something that Zhu Li had to have been complicit in considering she was in prison with him? None of this makes any sense! Asami’s convictions on what is just and what is not are kind of her core (remember the Equalists?), so for them to just be thrown out because plot is a little strange and disconcerting.

I’m not saying she wouldn’t work with Zhu Li for the good of the city; she did the same with Varrick and that rings true to me because it’s not like she spent three years rebuilding the fucking thing. Of course she’d be protective of it! It’s also her home. But all of that pales in comparison to the single most glaring thing that is addressed briefly, in passing, in Part 1, but isn’t even mentioned in Part 2:

I just—Korra got a phenomenal healing arc. Asami is the second half of this couple that they are banking these book sales on, and she’s not given room to grieve? To acknowledge that her father was not only murdered, but sacrificed himself to save her life and how complicated and conflicting those feelings have to be considering he tried to murder her back in Book 1? Yeah, that is a meaty subject matter that can absolutely be tackled by a comic. You just sort of have to actually do it and not sweep it under the rug. But that’s what they do, despite the fact that he’s been dead for, oh, I dunno, like less than a month? Nobody can recover that quickly. No one. Not even the Avatar, and we literally saw that in action.

I get that Kuvira isn’t physically in this, and that the corpse of the massive mecha-giant that could not have possibly been moved via conventional means (it was covered in vines that not even Korra can safely remove, remember?) is randomly missing after Korra and Asami get back from their vacation but I really feel like Raiko’s surrender directly leading to Hiroshi’s death is something that could easily be dug into. Even if it’s not totally rational, because it doesn’t have to be because grief and emotions are not rational.

I mean, I doubt I need to get into the fact that Asami is once again sidelined in a plot that should be about her (the reconstruction effort was literally her thing between Books 3 and 4), since that one is just—it’s there. That’s what it is. Zhu Li gets it because she’s around, I guess? And because Raiko is a terrible President who needed to get ousted anyway (why is he not letting people get their food???), but why wouldn’t whatever theoretical legislature just impeach him while Korra and Asami were on vacation? What purpose does this narrative actually serve since we already don’t like Raiko and would want anyone in that position that isn’t him? Preferably someone who lost in the first round of elections—I’ll stop there. It just unfolds with the slightest tug.

SPEAKING OF DEAD PARENTS (perfect segue) remember when I reminded you that Asami’s mother was murdered by firebenders? After a break-in? When she was five? Wow that must have been pretty traumatizing for her considering it literally radicalized her father into becoming a genocidal maniac. Which, you know, makes it extremely strange that this isn’t brought up or addressed when Jargala and her crew do like, the same thing to Asami.

Wow that’s scary, isn’t it? Possibly PTSD flashback level scary, if Mike had remembered that important aspect of Asami’s history. Yet this is not brought up, and it doesn’t seem to inform Asami’s character at all despite the fact that it should probably be the second thing that comes out of her mouth when she discusses the encounter with Korra.

But wait, it happens again with Tokuga, who just ransacks her place, which just makes it worse. It’d be bad enough not to have Asami explicate this connection the first time around, because she could be bottling her emotions (she does that), and we find out about this later, but to do it twice in the same graphic novel? In quick succession? Yeah, Mike just plum forgot.

I don’t think I need to explain further why being lazy with a canon that you yourself poured your blood, sweat and tears into is not a great look. But that’s what the story Mike wrote is saying.

So, yeah, those are most of my issues with Turf Wars Part 2. Thanks for reading through to the end!

Other random thoughts on how none of this makes sense:

Why does Republic City have Kuvira’s military armaments in a warehouse? Even if the war is somehow over, which it can’t be because that’s not how anything works, it’s still Earth Empire property.

Why do any of those mecha-suits even work after Varrick’s EMP?

Why is Ba Sing Se offering relief efforts when that’s the capital of the country that just invaded the United Republic— seriously they’re still at war you guys you can’t just capture the enemy commander and win

How does Tokuga’s half-spirit form allow him to control spirits? Wouldn’t that make them hate him more?

Why do the triads agree to work under him when all he’s got is a tentacle arm? They could just set him on fire and be done with it

What is the point of Keum, like, at all? Why does he even exist? He got kidnapped at the end of Part 1, but we have no emotional stake in his existence

Why are Mako and Bolin relearning how to value one another’s different skill sets? This is like the fifth time or something

[silentasasongbird]

This is a very, VERY long post about my struggle with mental illness.

I’ve always tried to be fairly open about things that have happened in my past, because I feel like now, that I’m older, if I’m open about my experiences, then maybe someone else out there that’s had similar things happen won’t feel so lonely. However; I’ve been debating with myself for this whole month whether or not I should discuss things in complete open honesty, and I finally convinced myself to do it. SO I’m gonna take it way, way back, and go through some experiences, stories, tips, etc. TRIGGER WARNING FOR ABUSE, SEXUAL ASSAULT, SELF-HARM, SUICIDE, and probably other stuff that I’m missing. I will also edit ALL names in this, to keep privacy for those who may not deserve it, but earn the right regardless. 

Ever since I can remember, I’ve ALWAYS experienced life through extremes. I was a very adventurous child, with my joy being so exuberant, my temper so short-fused, my sadness so explosive. But I never, ever realized that it wasn’t how everyone was supposed to feel. Even as a kid, my little crushes on people were so extreme and my rejection so devastating. I was bullied as a kid, too, often times making friends with kind of the odder (but ultimately better, and kinder) classmates. I wasn’t HORRIBLY teased. I wasn’t ever beat up, I wasn’t thrown in trash cans, just enough that every day school was a source of anxiety. I lived on a boat for about three to four years in elementary school, and it was during that time that I was beginning to know what like.. crushes and feelings of that nature were, and I was about 11/12. There was a neighborhood kid, Steven, who was best friends with my older brother. My brother has about four years on me, his friend maybe six? This person was someone who helped babysit me, helped watch over me while my parents worked. I was about 11, he was 16 or 17. He was my first kiss, before I even really fully understood what kissing was. He often touched me in ways that I didn’t KNOW were wrong until later, when I’d do them with a lover. Every single time it felt scary, it felt not okay, but he was like a brother to me, and I figured it was fine. So that was my catapult into the realm of adulthood, which launched me into middle school. 

Middle school for just about everyone is a weird, confusing experience. It was probably a little more confusing for me because I learned that not everyone lives in extremes, and not everyone also loves and crushes on everyone equally. I realized that there was a name for how I felt about people, and it was “bisexual” (Later, after becoming more educated, I learned that I actually identify as pansexual, but life was pretty narrow then.). My body was also changing, as it does for everyone at that age, and with it, my mental health took a serious, immediate drop. I was internally a minefield, just waiting for the moment that my brain and body would completely fall apart. A friend had showed me what cutting was, and I immediately took to that, burning and cutting my body, a thing that stood with me for at least 10 years after that. (I’ve been self harm free for about a year, and I’m 24.) I devolved an eating disorder, and lived with anorexia for years, and I still to this day struggle with it. I fell in love with people often, and when those feelings weren’t returned, or things ended, I lashed out, mainly at myself. And this WHOLE TIME I thought these things were normal. That everyone goes through them, I was just an angsty teen, and I’d get over it. I felt ashamed that everyone else was handling things fine, that everyone else felt the exact same way, and how weak was I to not be able to manage it? I was also a compulsive liar, often fabricating extreme stories to make myself more interesting, because I was so terrified that everyone was going to realize what a wreck I was if they knew what my day to day life really was. The only thing that got me through it was writing songs and poems. I loved music, and loved reading and writing (still do), so it was an excellent outlet for me. The things I wrote were often dark, and graphic, but they kept me alive. One day, a teacher found one of my darker poems about sexual assault, and police got involved. My parents and I both agreed that I should be transferred to a better school. 

When I started highschool, things were very normal for highschool standards. I had been learning how to hide my cuts, how to better hide my emotions, but I wasn’t perfect. I fought with my friends, and I was often terrified of being in a new place without any friends at all. I was overjoyed at any attention I’d get from boys, often falling for those who weren’t the best for me. My first serious boyfriend, Mark, was a guy I dated in 11th grade. I was horribly abused, daily, by this person. Primarily emotionally, and mentally, but he would also throw chairs at me, scream in my face, and pull my hair. Living life as his girlfriend was a never ending nightmare, with me experiencing anxiety so strong, that every. single. day. I would throw up, sometimes multiple times a day. Some girls in my drama troupe thought I was bulimic, but I was so terrified of my self and him that I was physically ill. I’m 5′, and I dropped to a weight under 100. I couldn’t keep anything I ate down, and my hair started falling out. My teachers allowed me to sleep through my classes, or put my head down and silently cry, because they would hear Mark screaming at me outside of classes. Half of my drama troupe put me through hell, insulting me as a cry baby, as a “drama queen” because I was barely holding onto myself. He took my virginity, after I told him repeatedly that I didn’t want to have sex yet, and after vomiting for half an hour, while I lay on the ground sobbing. He absolutely convinced every part of me that that was what love was, and that was who I was going to marry. He would go out most nights, late into the night, to sleep with other women, while telling me I was crazy and making things up. He realized that he could use my mental illness against me, and he did at every chance he got. I often only got two or three hours a night of sleep, as he wouldn’t let me go to bed until he said I could, and would often fall asleep before allowing me to.

I was in hell, for about seven months, and a lot of this stayed with me even to today.

I eventually met someone new, and was semi-happy, not understanding that just because someone is kind to you, doesn’t mean you have to love them. I moved away for college, with my mental health declining more and more with every day. I was unable to attend classes, often laying in bed for days at a time, with my at-the-time fiance coming home, finding me just laying in a bathtub, completely clothed with cold water on for no reason. I wouldn’t leave the house, wouldn’t let him have friends out of fear of abandonment, and one day, he came home to find me hanging from a belt in the closet, just passed out. Another time, he woke up to me throwing up a handful of pills that I had only taken enough to get sick off of, not die. After this, he had one of his only friends, and one of the only people I knew and trusted in this new life of college, watch over me. They would take turns, placing me on a kind of suicide watch. It was easy, as I would often just lay in bed, essentially catatonic. One day, his friend, Jason, got extraordinarily high and started kissing me. I didn’t move, didn’t react, didn’t say yes or no, just laid on my side, like a corpse. And he fucked me. I say this as vulgar as I say this, because it wasn’t kind. It wasn’t loving, it wasn’t even friendly. I was depressed, with matted hair, an un-showered body, and un-brushed teeth, and he did whatever he wanted, and I didn’t stop him. When he was done, I just for once, in probably days, got out of the house, and drove him home. My fiance came home, and I was crying, and told him what happened. The next day, when Jason came over to see us, my fiance confronted him, and Jason broke down crying, admitted what he did. I watched my fiance hug him, comfort him, and admit to him he understood, as I was such a pain in the ass to look after. A few months later, my fiance ended things, and moved away. 

 Almost every relationship I had in college was a mess. I was unstable, with every day becoming worse and worse. But I had a solid group of friends, for once in my life. Two friendships that had survived through middle and highschool (shoutout to Kallen and Regina, usin’ your real names here because you’re the goddamn MVP’s) and some college friends, I was, externally, managing fine. But I was sleeping with anyone who would show affection, often times sleeping with people who had partners, and I didn’t care. I just hoped that anyone would give a fuck about me. When one or two of them actually did, I was impulsive and destructive, hurting them badly by cheating and leaving them. One time when this happened, I realized what a monster I was, cut myself all over my body, and went to jump off of a bridge onto a freeway, or in front of a car. I told a friend what I was doing, and she called the police. I stayed on the phone with another amazing human, who that friend had told what I was going to do. 

 I was walking around the streets at 3 in the morning when the cops found me, handcuffed me, and took me to the hospital.In Florida, they can hold you for 72 hours if there is probable cause that you’re a danger to yourself or someone else. Having proof of texts on my phone and cuts on my body, I was held in a hospital unit for those full 72 hours. I was taken to a room, given a syringe of a clear liquid, and a handful of pills that TO THIS DAY I don’t know what they were. I was exhausted, and they stripped me down and took photos of my naked body, of my tattoos, cuts, eyes, anything that was recognizable, I guess, if I ran away.

I was so, so terrified every second I was there. No doctors would speak to me, and I was given medicine three times a day and never told what it was. I heard people screaming, every single night, and tried so hard not to sleep, but was forced to by whatever medicine I was given. I lied, every second I was in there, so I could get out. I was so, so good at it, with years of practice, and they believed me. I met with a doctor, finally, on the day of my release for SEVEN MINUTES. Seven minutes was the only amount of time I saw anyone other than a nurse or another patient. After seeing a cross in the doctors office,  I pretended I was highly religious, and I finally saw god’s light, and how I was going to make it okay. How I only did these things for attention and he believed me. And let me go.

I was forced to take exit counseling with the university after that, where when a doctor asked me what I had been diagnosed with in the hospital, and I told her I was never told, and that I saw the doctor for seven minutes, she called me a liar, and that they had diagnosed me with major depression, and my memory was failing me. Which, is funny because to this day I remember every single second in that psych ward. I was terrified to contradict her, and I didn’t want to be forced back to the hospital. I eventually got permission to see another therapist, who I saw for two months, and genuinely taught me a few good coping mechanisms. After being put on several different medications, and seeing different therapists and psychiatrists, I got the diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder. 

Finally, after years of questions and no answers, and suffering SO MUCH, there was a name. I wasn’t crazy, I wasn’t losing my mind. I could make it through. If other people live through worse than me, I was fucking going to live.I started going to class. I worked full time, and went to school full time.

When I got into an abusive relationship, he gave me a black eye after three days of dating, I left. It was exhausting, it was painful, but I did it. I was healing, and I was coping. I was living day to day, yes, and I was still relapsing, but I wanted to get better.

One day, my best friend became my boyfriend. We moved out of the shitty town that had shitty memories on every street, and we moved across the country to Ohio. We got engaged, I was getting better every day. We got married, I was getting better every day. We lived at the Grand Canyon, I was getting better every day. We just three weeks ago moved to California, and I’m still getting better every day. I still relapse. I still wake up in the middle of the night from the bad dreams. But when that happens, it feels like I’m just swimming underwater, not being held down and drowning.

I’ve still had suicidal thoughts. I still have to deal with jumps from extreme joy to extreme anger. Julian and I have codes for my days, moods associated with colors, and he’s patient. And I’m patient with myself. I try to be kind to myself, and I try to just still live day to day, but I have a future that I see and I want to get to. I paint, I sing, I write songs. I cut hair, I color hair, I take photographs. I do anything to help me get through the bad times, but I do them.

This is mental illness awareness month, and I’m here to say that I have Borderline Personality Disorder, and I’m managing. And I can’t wait to see what tomorrow is going to bring, every single day.