#i’m fully expecting to open my notebook tomorrow and say ‘what the fuck’ because i’m sleep deprived and sad today so my ideas probably

[fingertipsmp3]

Someone on a NaNoWriMo prep thread: if you’re trying to win NaNo for the first time my advice is to pick the simplest idea

Me: yep, that seems smart. I’ll do that

Also me: *walks away from my first brainstorming session needing to research the golden age of piracy, the composition of the UK in the mid 17th century, the British navy in the mid 17th century, and the overall concept of a time loop*

[bump1nthen1ght]

Deep Blue Sea (Shark Merman x Reader) Chapter 1

Pairing: Gender Neutral! Reader/Shark Merman

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Soulmate AU

Warning: None

Word Count: 2682 words

Summary: You have a chat with your soulmate

Prologue

“So, you want some?”

He  takes your stunned silence as no, checking that the crab is fully dead before pulling off a leg and biting the meat inside. His teeth catch the light of the setting sun, glinting white in between chunks of crab.

“So were-”

“Soulmates? Yeah, looks like it.” He, your soulmate, cracks off another leg and begins to chew. You find yourself transfixed watching him, mind reeling with questions. He uses the sharp claws on the tips of his fingers to dig out more meat. You’re not even sure where to begin.

“What do we do know?”

He shrugs, sucking out the last of the crab leg and tossing it aside.

“Dunno, guess this mystery is solved though.” He taps his wrist and you get a closer look at his soulmate mark.

It loosely resembles a human compass, yet alien in it’s design.There’s eight large symbols, none of which you recognize, and the arrow is slightly misshapen before straightening to a point.

“I always assumed my soulmate was in the Atlantic or something, maybe even a selkie. When that thought always drove my ma up the reef.” He sighs, pressing his chin against his palm as he lays against a rock. “Wonder how she’ll take this. Maybe she’ll turn a whole new shade of blue.”

His chuckle is low, rough against your ears, but not entirely unpleasant.

You can see more of his backside as he scoots closer into the tidepool. The first thing you notice is just how big he is, his tail stretching from his hips to the open ocean. The second thing you notice are the defined muscles which stretch and flex along his back.

Okay, what the fuck.

There’s a pressure building in your temples and you think you're beginning to overload. Your fucking soulmates eyes wander, looking nonchalant as can be beforeperking up when he sees another crab. His body slithering away from you to snatch it up snaps you out of shutdown mode.

“Uh, I guess….what’s your name?” He doesn’t take his eyes off his soon to be snack, only humming to acknowledge he even heard you. “I think that’s a good place to start, don’t you?” That at least gets you a chuckle, followed by a tiny crack!

“Cruz, you can call me Cruz.” You make eye contact as he takes a long, languid bite of crab. Your furrow your eyebrows, face unimpressed. He lights up with a mischievous grin.

“Is that your real name?”

“Nope,” Cruz says, popping the p and breaking open a claw, “But I don’t think you could pronounce my name so…..”

The tension in your jaw tights as he turns away from you once more,humming to himself and letting out a soft “Oh!” as the other leg reveals quite a bit of meat. You rub your brow and sigh.

“My names _____”

“Neat.”

In high school, your mom got the yearbook epithet “biggest social butterfly.” Your dad, however, was barely presentable on picture day and a social circle consisting of the three fellow chess-club members. You were a lot like your dad in many ways.

The conversation, to say the least, seemed to float on the water like a dead fish, and you had no idea how to resuscitate it. It wasn’t easy, it wasn’t natural, it wasn’t that missing piece yoru guidance counselor said it would and dammit, it’s kind of pissing you off. You’re pissed off that it’s pissing you off, because when has making first impressions ever been easy for you? Did you think this was going to be different, because what, a stupid mark on your wrist? That has no basis in logic, not even a little bit.

You refuse to dignify any emotions similar to disappointment which begin to well inside you, because it’s ridiculous. You worked hard to get to California, you’ve worked hard your whole damn life, what's stopping you from working now?

“Welp, seems I scared away all the other crabs.” Cruz huffs and places his hands on his...hips? “Been nice chatting _____, but I got dinner to catch.” Cruz looks back at you as he slinks into the water, sending a salute and a wink.

The words bubble up in your chest before you can catch them as he begins to swim away.

“Wait, but, um, I-” Your commands fall clumsily out of your mouth and barely leaves a ripple on the water. Cruz doesn’t turn around.

You feel the heat sizzling up your neck and face as you look at his back. Flashes of him, the arrow, your mom, that stupid guidance counselor paint the inside of your eyelids.

No.

“Will you wait a second!”

The scream barely echoes in the small tidepool, but it’s enough to catch Cruz’s attention. He whips back to you, eyes slightly wide. You realize just how hard you’re breathing.

“I-, just, can you meet me here? Tomorrow?” Cruz's expression stays still, only the slightest bit of confusion crossing his eyes as he raises his brow. “I want to get to know you better.”

“Oh, um, okay.”

….

….

“What time….. do you want to meet up?” Cruz looks far less mischievous and much more sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck with a clawed hand and looking up at you from under his eyelids.

“How about 5PM?”

Cruz narrows his eyes.

“I don’t know what that means.”

Ah, right, merman.

“About three hours before sunset. I mean, do you know how long an hour-”

“Yes, I know how long an hour is. I’m not a pup.” Cruz rolls his eyes

Well, the sass returns.

The two of you stay in that position for a little too long. You begin to rub your arms as the cold of the sea breeze and your social anxiety slowly come back to you.

“See you tomorrow, I guess.” With a hesitant nod, his black-blue eyes looking pensive, he submerges. Your breath comes back to you in a wave as your soulmate swims into the open ocean.

The walk back to civilization is a blur, the pounding voice in your head drawing out all other noise yet barely making sense itself.

You’re not sure what you expected of the first meeting with your soulmate, but it certainly wasn’t that.

---------

The next day, Cruz is waiting for you at the tidepool by 4:55 PM, shucking an oyster with one of his claws. He looks up as your feet splash into the tidepool. You wave.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

It’s an understatement to say the silence is uncomfortable. You take a beach towel out of your bag and begin to lay it on a large rock. The task helps keep your mind distracted, but you feel Cruz’s eyes burn into your back.

“So, I guess, what are you exactly?” You say, sitting yourself down.

“Merman’s best word I’ve heard you humans use, so that.” Cruz has shifted his focus  back on his oyster, which he then downs with one swallow.

“I see, I see. Are all mer-folk as big as you?” That catches Cruz’s attention. A self-satisfied smirk grows on his face as he puffs out his chest.

“Not at all. I’m a Great White and we’re one of the…” Cruz extends his arms art in front of him, flexing his fingers and his biceps in a decidedly braggadocious manner, “bigger species out there.” He finishes his statement with a playful wink. A tiny smile crawls on your face.

Interesting. Male Great Whites are typically around 12 feet, but Cruz is only about 9 feet. I wonder why that is?

“I can see that.” Cruz shifts, ego now lifted, and lays his weight on his right elbow, facing you. “You mentioned a mother, do you have a clan?” Cruz nods.

“Yup. It’s my ma, my dad, my two older sisters, and me. Plus two other families. My ma’s parents were from this reef.”

It’s difficult for you to fight the instinct to whip out your notebook and jot all this down.Your inner scientist screams to pry into the complex social hierarchy and behaviour patterns of this new species. But the more sane part of you knows that would probably be pushing some boundaries.

“Wow, so you’re a true Californian, huh?” Cruz squints his eyes at you. “Uh, that’s where we are. The territory Santa Cruz lies in.”

He gives a low hum, reaching for another oyster  nearby. This movement is far more natural than his earlier show, but you still get a full glimpse of his cut shoulder muscle and tight abdominals. It stirs something in you.

Would he have the swimmer’s V? Okay, stop, focus.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” He pries open the oyster, staring at the soft meta inside. “A member of the clan, born and bred.” Cruz brushed the pad of his finger on the shell, his voice holding a quiet bitterness, tinted somber.

Should you comfort him? He’s within touching distance, but the thought of grabbing his hand feels too intimate, soulmate-ship be damned.

Before you can make a move, Cruz throws his head back and gulps down the oyster. He shakes his head and lets out a small “Ah~”, then pushes his short hair back against his skull. Whatever emotion that was there before, it’s gone.

“Where are you from?”

“East Coast, bordering the Atlantic. So you weren’t too far off.”

“Well, I’m not just a pretty face.” Cruz winks at you, but his eye catches a scuttling crab nearby. He gets low in the water, moving slowly to catch it by surprise. You don’t hum the Jaws theme, despite how much you want to.

“No siblings, just me and my parents.” Cruz doesn’t look away, even as he kills the crab.

“Lucky. How big's your clan?” The familiar crack of the shell follows.

“We don’t really,” crack “...have those. Humans can-” crack “We typically live near each other-” crack “but don’t get that-” crack “....close.”

Cruz hums contently, but you can clearly see it’s from the crab and not your one sided conversation. He sucks juice off his fingers. Seems you’ve lost him once again.

I didn’t expect this to be so difficult.

“Have you ever had cooked crab?” Cruz perks immediately, slowly turning back towards you.

Got ‘im.

----------

You return with two warm lobster rolls, a bag of crab legs, and some shrimp scampi. Cruz’s black-blue eyes just peak out of the water, suspicious.

“So these two are lobster, actually, but this,” You shake the crab-bag, “is all crab. I thought I ‘d get you a couple things to sample.”

Cruz’s nose (Is it a nose? There’s a ridge but you’re not sure if the slits count as nostrils. Questions for later.) just breaches the water as you set the crab-bag down and settle on your rock. You grab a couple of legs for yourself before nudging it  closer to him. “Have at it, it’s pretty self-explanatory.” You say midst a large bit of your lobster roll. The whole meal was not cheap, so you decided to indulge in this treat as much as you can. You’ve had a stressful couple of days.

Cruz slowly approaches the plastic, snatching it up quickly before looking inside it. His eyes widen and there's a small smile on his lips as he pulls a long leg out. His smile only grows bigger.

“Oh, also!” You clap, pointing towards the bag and jolting Cruz out of his food-induced joy. “There’s sauce, garlic butter, shit like that in those little plastic containers at the bottom. You dip the crab meat in them.” You take another large bit of lobster roll and hear Cruz break into a crab leg. Cruz gets his mouth ready to take a big bite before pausing. His eyes flit between the lef and the garlic butter, before he slowly pulls the lid off and dips the meat in. Cruz then takes the tiniest bite possible.

His eyes, black as they are, light up. He quickly takes another, larger bite. It’s quite adorable, like a baby trying ice cream for the first time. Cruz devours the leg quickly before snapping into another sauce.

“You like it?” Cruz nods, cheeks stuffed with crab meat as you giggle.

“What kind of craf is fiss?”

“Dungeness. That’s commonly eaten by humans. They’ve got some of the highest meat value and they're all over  the West Coast.” Cruz nods, though you’re not sure he understands parts of your sentence. “They’re also pretty sustainable to fish, although ocean acidity is kinda fucking with their babies. It’s also been fucking with Red King Crabs, which sucks because their only found in like, four places and are so beautiful and also sustainable and-” Cruz has stopped eating and is staring at you. After a big, long breath in you realize how fast you were talking. You feel the what of your blush on the base of your neck. “Sorry, I’ll let you eat. I just...really like crustaceans. A Lot of aquatic animals, but crabs especially are… I’m doing it again. Sorry.” You take a large bite so you won’t have to talk for a couple of seconds, avoiding eye contact with Cruz. You’re sure your chest and arms are bright red; It’s an embarrassing symptom of when you get too excited.

Cruz just keeps staring at you. Frankly it’s the longest he's looked at you and not a nearby snack. You chew the slowest you possibly can, the brioche bun becoming mush in your mouth, to fill the silence.

You don’t see it, but a small smile widens on his face. He picks at his empty crab shell.

“I think those facts are crab-tastic.”

You immediately choke on a bit of lobster roll, pounding your chest as you sputter between mouthfuls. When your eyes stop watering, you see Cruz has moved closer to you, hand outstretched and a couple inches from resting on your calf. He jerks it back when you look down at him.

“Wow, thanks, but puns aren’t really part of my vocrabulary.” You obnoxiously wink, scrunching up the left side of your face. Cruz laughs. Not a chuckle, but a full, belly laugh.

“Well I find them quite crab-tivating.” A larger laugh bursts from your chest as he mimics your wink and shoots you another big smile.

The sharp teeth are beginning to grow on you, adding to Cruz’s boyish charm. You feel the hot blush in your chest crawl up your neck once more.

Oh fuck.

Cruz reaches for another crab leg but hits the bottom of the bag, a playful pout now on his chin.

“Here, try this next.” You hand him the second lobster roll. “Probably don’t want to get this one wet, it’ll be soggy.” With no hesitation Cruz digs in, perking up once more and going to town. His teeth serate through the bread like butter. Within 4 bites, the entire roll is gone.

“Dang, I’ll make sure to bring some more food next time.”Cruz pauses, mid-lick of the butter on his claws and looks up at you.

“Next time? You want to meet up again?” You raise your eyebrow.

“Well yeah, don’t you?”

Cruz stays quiet, no sassy comment or a sarcastic look. Just staring, mildly shocked.

Your embarrassment bubbles back, screaming you’ve misread this whole situation and the last few minutes. “I mean, we are soulmates. Shouldn’t we meet up again?”

Cruz's eyes narrow as a barrage of thoughts seem to flit across his head. His smile recedes back into a straight line, that little spark leaving his eye.

“Yeah, I guess we have too.” He crinkles up the plastic bag, shoving it against your calves. “See you tomorrow.”

A pit rolls in your stomach as he quickly moves to leave.

Did I say something wrong?

“Uh, I’m actually busy tomorrow. Can we do Thursday-er, 3 days from now?” Cruz nods, not turning around to face you before slipping back into the water and swimming away.

The pit doesn’t leave your stomach, an empty sauce container rolling across the rocky shore.

What just happened?

[volleychumps]

Heyy!! 💙 Selena here! Would It be posible yo request a scenario, please? So its a normal day at school and suddenly the reader overhear a conversation of her current boyfriend with one of his friends in which he confesses that he's just dating the reader to win a bet of 1.000 yens? Completely crushed she doesn't know how to react but she was not the only one accidentally listening.Noya who has a huge Crush on reader was also there... ¿ What would he do now? Nsfw included please! Enjoy!

It would be possible!! This turned out really fluffy instead of nsfw content just because I like to have a build-up of things, I hope that’s alright<3 🥺

And my inbox has been flooded with need for more Noya so🥰

On the Line. (Nishinoya Yu x Reader)

----------------------------------------------------------------

“Noya, you’re drooling again.” 

The libero wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, shooting a glare at a grinning Ennoshita, who casted a glance at your laughing figure a few seats away as his grin widens. Before Nishinoya Yu could completely deny that assumption, he stills in his seat when your eyes flit over to his brown ones, your lips stretching out in a warm smile as you offer a timid wave. 

God, why did you have to smile like that?

Blinking out of a trance, the libero turns away from your direction abruptly as Ennoshita continues to sip his box of strawberry juice, somewhat used to his friend’s odd behavior when it came to you as the second year hums, a teasing tone to his voice. 

“Considering the amount of girls you’re known to fawn over-” 

“excUSE ME-” 

“Y/N’s been kind of a long term thing, no?” Ennoshita questions casually, flipping a page in his manga he had open throughout the lunch period as Noya goes to defend himself- only to open his mouth and shut it again quickly, for he had no defense to that statement. 

“Don’t kid yourself, Y/N’s just a close friend.” Noya chuckles somewhat forcibly as Ennoshita’s eyes lift from his page to arch a challenging brow. “Besides-” 

Brown eyes soften, voice cracking a tad bit as he watches your boyfriend poke his head into the classroom door as a smile- a smile that wasn’t for him- brightens your features more than when you looked at him did. 

“Close friends shouldn’t cross lines when they’re obviously drawn.” Noya finishes, and Ennoshita’s eyes fall back down to his manga, his wrist flicking to throw the empty juice carton at his friend’s head as Noya catches it with a glare. 

“Stick with drooling over Kiyoko- you’re scarier when you say serious stuff.” 

“I’ll have you know- wait, scarier?” 

“Dude, have you met yourself?” 

Before a snarky retort can be made about Ennoshita’s lack of empathy, Noya quiets down to realize you were no longer in the classroom, and Ennoshita had successfully distracted the libero from watching you leave with your boyfriend. 

“I don’t know whether to thank you or punch you.” 

“The former would be great, thanks.” 

--------------------------------------------------------

“uGH practice is such a pain.” Noya whines as Tanaka whistles lowly in agreement from next to him, the iconic duo feeling lucky practice was delayed for the day due to Ukai’s tardiness, the coach getting held back by a prior engagement. 

“I’ll meet you in the gym later?” Tanaka questions after Noya had released a groan after the realization that his notebook had been left behind- a notebook that held at least a dozen late homework assignments that needed to be in by tomorrow. 

“Yeah, man- Tell Daddy Dai I’ll be there in a few.” 

“Still can’t believe he lets you call him that.” 

“Oh he doesn’t- on second thought he does. Tanaka, if you love me you’ll call him that when you see him.” 

“Who the hell loves you?” His best friend sneers as Noya puts up a peace sign accompanied by a wide grin as he walks off, his smile lessening when his back turns again to his lonely trek in the mostly empty hallways of Karasuno. 

Yeah, who would?

Before he can stifle it, your face popped up into his mind along with a tug at his heartstrings as Noya continues his slow walk back to his classroom, a glazed look taking over his eyes as he wonders if you made it home safely with that asshat of a boyfriend- 

Until he saw it. 

Noya pauses mid-step, the glazed look being blinked away as he saw you standing outside a classroom that wasn’t yours, the door open slightly ajar as your hair skewed the image of your face. An excited smile spreads on the libero’s face at the thought of an unexpected conservation with you, his pace picking up until he sees something that made his breath hitch in his throat as he stands two steps away from you. 

Your eyes were brimmed with unshed, shining tears that seemed to threaten to spill over at any moment, and before Noya can ask you why on instinct, you had grabbed his arm in a tight grip, putting a weak finger to your lips as you signal him to stay quiet. 

With furrowed brows, the libero complies, leaning against the wall next to you as he remains focused on your grip on his arm, an involuntary blush rising to his cheeks at the situation at hand-

but it didn’t last very long. 

Noya’s ears perk up at the sound of a very familiar voice- a voice that he dreaded hearing call your name every day during break times. 

“...yeah, man- I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” 

He felt your grip seem to loosen on his arm.

“With Y/N? Dude, I don’t know why you would go so far for 1000 yen-” 

He watched a painful expression cross your face as your eyes widened in absolute disbelief. 

“Right? I thought it would be easy, but she looks at me like I’m the best thing to ever happen to her, what would you do in my situation?” 

But the instigating factor? 

“Dump her. You agreed because she seemed cute and easy, right?” 

When the tears tipped over the eyes he loved, his vision turned into a blurry fit of rage, shoving off the wall before ripping his arm from your grasp as you attempt to keep him next to you. Noya stops for a second when your hand reaches out to grab at the back of his shirt material, your reddened eyes widening when the libero smiles a closed-eye grin at you, mouthing the words you needed to hear most. 

It’ll be okay. I’ll be back.

“1000 yen richer, I guess. Anyways, I wonder where that airhead-” 

He didn’t get to finish his sentence as a fist collided with his cheek, Nishinoya seething so angrily he hardly spared a glance at the friend that made a dash for the exit at the arrival of the school’s known-troublemaker.

All those days watching you be with him. A hidden part wishing he was him. The convincing of himself that he was happy you were happy-

 Noya’s eyes mimicked the ones in which he was on the court, eyes spinning dangerously serious as brown eyes narrowed, a fist grabbing at your boyfriend’s collar from where he now laid with a slightly cracked lip. 

When this was how things were all along? 

“What the hell are you doing?!”

A humorless chuckle. “What does it look like? A fucking tea party?” 

When his fist reels back again, he stops when he feels a hand rest gently on the back of his elbow, Noya just knowing from the touch that it was you as his tense muscles relax almost immediately. 

“N-Noya...” 

At the sound of your cracked, stuttering voice, the libero releases a heavy sigh, releasing your now ex-boyfriend’s shirt so that at least his head hits the classroom floor as Noya stands protectively in front of you. 

“Bastard...you think you’ll get away with something like this?” Your ex seems to chuckle a tad deliriously as Noya ignores him, shuffling through his pockets before dropping a few crumpled bills at his feet, your ex finally taking notice of you with widened eyes.

“I don’t care. I just get suspended again, but you?” Noya sneers, kicking the bills towards what he had always considered not good enough for you. “You fucked with the wrong person, asshole. Here’s 4300 yen (about 40 USD), whatever shitty bet you had going on is off, don’t even look her way anymore. Not like you deserved it in the first place anyway.”

With that, Noya spun on his heel to grab your hand hastily, adrenaline running through his veins before he feels you freeze at the sound of his voice. 

“Y-Y/N, baby please-” 

“I don’t know if he didn’t make it clear enough,” You glance at him once more, etching the image into your mind before mentally discarding it. “But we’re through. If there was any we to begin with.” 

Noya’s brows reach towards his airline before he releases a low whistle at you’re words, surprised when you’re the one to lead him out of the class, stopping only when you reach the exit of the school. 

“Y/N-” 

“Have anywhere I can maybe, I don’t know, cry?” 

Noya’s eyes widen as a million thoughts flit through his head as he takes a chance. Slowly, he turns your figure so you’re facing him fully, gently prying the hands that covered the features you now deemed ugly away before tucking your face into his chest- 

the libero determined to make you feel as beautiful as he saw you as, feeling the sobs wreck through your body as your hands tightened at the shirt material on his chest.

Looks like he��ll be missing practice today. 

----------------------------------------------------------------

“You didn’t have to go that far.” 

You smile a little at Noya’s look of seriously? from his place in the kitchen, causing you to giggle a little from underneath the blanket he had given you as you relaxed a bit more into his couch. The smile dwindles as you wonder how you had gotten here, puffy-eyed and broken-hearted in the house of someone you deemed as a close friend- 

but why had your heart beat picked up when his back was to you in that classroom as he faced your ex? Why did that smile he casted to you before rushing in to defend your dignity make you loosen your grip on his shirt as a newfound feeling emerged in your stomach?

Had he always been there? Just in that little pocket in the back of your mind, waiting to be seen, as someone simply stood in front of him? 

“I left my homework at school for you. I’m expecting my payment in m&ms.” 

You shake your head of those thoughts just as Noya sets down a steaming mug of hot tea in front of you, and your eyes widen before you subconsiously raise a hand to his hair, retort falling silent. 

Noya blushes, eyes narrowing at the small giggle that slips your lips as he occupies the couch seat next to you. “What?” 

“Your hair’s not being held up by like, three different products of hair gel.” You observe, genuinely interested in his soft locks as the heat in the libero’s cheeks deepen before he scoffs. 

“Two actually, imagine being uneducated.” 

“Imagine assaulting someone because of a childish bet.” 

“It was self-defense.” 

“In what way?” You find yourself laughing as Noya turns fully towards you, a lopsided grin on his lips that had your laugh dying down at the pounding in your chest.

“You’re pretty when you laugh.” 

Embarrassed, you retract your hand from his hair hastily before picking up the mug and taking a deep sip, flinching at the heat as Noya calms his nerves at the girl he’s been in love with acting so cute next to him.

The mug hits the table gently as you set it down, a far-off look in your eyes as Noya takes his share of the blanket, wondering if you were uncomfortable with the proximity before you relax into his side, your head leaning on his shoulder. 

“I have to wonder...if all I was had been a game all along.” 

“Apparently the no sad talk rule I put in place before we entered my domain was ignored, and it shows.” 

You go to swat him playfully before Noya catches your wrist, brown eyes soft and looking at you as if he were afraid you would break at any moment.  

“Y/N, you’re literally the prettiest, nicest girl in the grade- it’s not your fault you decided to make the worst possible choice.” 

A pink dusts across your cheeks at the compliments before you pout. “But it kinda is.” 

“Yeah, you’re right.” 

“Oh yeah?” You laugh into your mug, not realizing Noya had been watching you with a gaze you were used to catching in the middle of breaks or class. “And who would be a better choice?” 

“Are you joking?” 

You blink at the deadpan of Noya’s voice before he scoffs as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 

“Ennoshita. Are you dumb?” 

“I was thinking more you, but yeah I could totally-” 

The couch is soft against your back as the blanket drapes over Noya’s back as you find yourself sandwiched between him and the couch, his hands placed firmly next to your head to support himself as he keeps his weight off of you. Your eyes trace over his features as his brown eyes seem to seriously stare into yours, your faces inches apart.

“You can’t take it back.” 

You melt into the feel of his lips upon yours, smiling into it as something in you just feels so right in this moment, pushing him back a little as soon as his hand trails down to your waist. 

“Noya, I just got out of the worst day of my life-” 

“Then I’ll make every day better than the last.” 

“It’s not too soon?” You ask worriedly as Noya digs his face into your neck, and you blush when his lips move against your neck. 

“Nothing’s too soon when I’ve been waiting this long, babe.” 

Noya smirks when your skin seems to heat under his touch, feeling you squirm when his hands move to rest on your waist gently as he peppers your neck in kisses. 

“How long have you been waiting?” You pout, pulling Noya out of your neck as the libero scoffs, his lips moving to trace up your jawline before making his way across your cheek sweetly, stopping only when his lips hover over yours. 

“Too long, apparently.” 

“C-Can I kiss you?”

Rolling his eyes, Noya cups your face gently as his thumb traces your cheek, speaking against your lips as he feels your lips curl upwards into it. 

“I don’t know if I have to make this clear- but you don’t have to ask your boyfriend for permission, babe.” 

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General works: @takemetovalhalla @kasandrafaye @dreebbles @savemesteeb

[roll-da-credits]

The Dreaded Finals - Kuroo x Dumbass Reader -

Word Count: 2.3k

With finals quickly approaching you dreaded for your impending doom. Having barely studied the entire semester and getting just passing grades, both you and Kuroo were rather anxious about the finals. (The title is me. I’m the dumbass reader.)

A/n

This story was brought to you by me procrastinating on studying for finals even though its literally a week away. I should study Physics and Biology right now but I can’t be bothered at all. Anyways, as always I hope you guys enjoy the first Haikyuu post here. 

“THEN WHAT THE HELL IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN SERIES AND SEQUENCE IF THEY USE THE SAME FORMULAS???” What is math.

You threw your hand up and Kuroo looked at you, exhausted but amused at how idiotic you actually were.

This morning you were just reminded by your boyfriend, Kuroo that tomorrow was the math finals.

How you forgot the dates for finals was beyond him. Cue panicking over not understanding a single thing taught in math.

Him being the kind boyfriend he was, offered to teach you the formulas and do some example questions with you. Though at first, he thought it wasn’t going to be that hard, your scores weren’t amazing, but they were passing.

From your test answers, he noticed how you already understood the formulas. You just had trouble applying them and putting the right formulas on the right questions.

But he realized pretty quickly, you were just incredibly lucky.

“So, for geometric and arithmetic they have 2 formulas for each so its 4 formulas all together I think you already know that-“

“Wait there’s 4??” Kuroo looked up at you from the paper slowly, completely dumbfounded how you didn’t know there was 4. “Ok stop looking at me like that HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?”

Kuroo pitifully smiled and ruffled your hair. “How did you even pass this test if you didn’t know there were 4 formulas??” He actually was amazed at how you graduated from Junior High.

“Well I just guessed around, plus sitting beside smart students help a lot you know.” You nudged over towards Kuroo. A sly smile decorating your features.

He shook his head, amused at the fact that you somehow cheated on every single test but STILL get a BARELY passing score.

“Ok so, this is how it works.” He then spent close to one and a half hour explaining everything about ONE out of the four topics you had to study that day.

Thankfully you seemed to be focused to be learning everything, he was actually surprised at the fact that you were enthusiastic to try and understand everything.

Now was the hard topic. It was close to 8pm and you finished 3 topics, but the last one. Algebraic expressions.

“Yea no, you know what. I’m just going to stop here and hope this doesn’t come up that much tomorrow.” He laughed out loud at your reaction when he showed you his notes.

Your hand tangled in your hair with your eyes wide open, completely baffled at the satanic writing in front of you. “This doesn’t even look like math anymore.”

Sighing, you planted your head on his desk. He grabbed both your shoulders and shook you lightly as a small way of trying to cheer you up. “At least you already understood the other topics, algebra’s hard, don’t be too hard on yourself.” He tried motivating you.

Kuroo was one of the most supportive boyfriends you could ever ask for, whenever it came to you trying out new things or you trying to study. He was always there to support you and sometimes tease you whenever you needed a laugh.

Kuroo smiled fondly over at you, there was something about you that always captivated him. Even in situations like these where you’re frustrated or just plain annoyed, he always saw you as incredible.

He admired you as well, although sure your grades weren’t something that would qualify for Harvard or Oxford. He admired that you still tried, albeit you procrastinated a lot. He’s never seen you fully give up and come to something completely unprepared.

You were always working on your flaws, whether you realized it or not. And for that he admired you. “Can we just hang out now? You’re very deserving of a break.”

Truthfully, he just wanted to have a soft cuddle session with you on the bed until you realized you had to go home, before your parents start calling the police. Much to his disappointment, you shook your head and opened your phone to check the time.

“Can’t. My parents already texted me, asking where I am.” You muttered, already beginning to take your books and notebooks. “Thank you for teaching me though, you’re the best.”

You gave him a light peck on his lips as you stood. Successfully making the volleyball captain grin. “Love you, wish me luck for tomorrow.”

~

The next day came and it was no surprise that he was actually worried for you. As always, you arrived in class one minute before the teacher came in.

Before the test papers were handed out Kuroo saw you look back at his seat 2 rows behind you and grinned largely.

How the fuck were you so calm.

Even he was stressing a little bit internally. He felt like he didn’t prepare enough.

When the tests were handed out his eyes widened. From what he saw by skimming the questions, close to 75% of it was algebraic expressions.

Something both of you deliberately skipped last night. Safe to say the entire time he was doing the test he snuck glances over to you, trying to see if you were panicking or not.

Although, even if you were, he wouldn’t be able to see it since your back was facing him. For some reason, it was panicking him a lot that he didn’t spend the time to teach you.

What happens if you fail?

He knows your parents were rather strict on grades. They agreed as long as it was a passing grade you would be safe from a punishment.

But what if you failed?

Would your parents stop you from visiting him?

Or worse, what if they confiscated your phone?

How was he going to text you flustering pick-up lines in ungodly hours of night?

Even through all of the stress pile up and him panicking every time he read a new question and it was still algebraic expressions. He somehow finished the entire test on time.

The only good thing that comes from finals are, no other subjects, and you get to go home early. Lunch time came as soon as the test ended and the bell rang.

Kuroo immediately went to your table, “Damn, we should’ve studied algebraic expressions huh cutie?”

He patted your head lightly. He wanted to tease you, making sure you smiled at something if you were feeling down at the unlucky test questions.

What he didn’t expect you to do was giggle. “Damnit, I probably used up all my luck in my other tests.” You barely seemed bothered by the high chance you might get a failed score on math FINALS. “Maybe next time I’ll listen to you more.”

You grinned ear to ear, standing up from your chair to kiss the rooster head boy on the cheek.

“You coming? I want to meet up with Kenma.” He didn’t even realize you were already leaving the classroom.

The rest of the lunch break was spent with you and him talking about random nonsense, whilst Kenma sits playing his game and adding a few of his own opinions to whatever topic you talked about.

Afterwards it was time for another final test, you and Kuroo took your seats again and began the test.

He again realized; this was difficult. He struggled with a few of the questions. This made him worry again for you.

Not that he wanted assume you were stupid or anything of the kind, you were a pretty smart person when it came to certain subject. Though, other subjects you seem to get a barely passing grade.

Then again, after the test, you didn’t seem bothered by it and barely complained about the question.

The finals week went on and every day the same thing keeps happening.

He’d help you study but would have to cut a few things from each topic short because you had to go home. The next day the test would have you write the answers completely and in depth, he’d get worried you won’t be able to do it. As always, after the test.

You didn’t seem shocked or even bothered.

You didn’t even talk about the finals when you were hanging out, you wouldn’t talk about the questions or even discuss the questions you didn’t understand with him.

He was perplexed by you. One day you were panicking because you didn’t understand math at all, the next you seemed terrifyingly calm after doing something you supposedly can’t do.

You didn’t speak about the finals for the next week either, it was when the last week of school finally came that the moment of truth is revealed.

All the test papers would be given back to the students.

Since this was finals to determine if you’d make it to your third year, everyone seemed antsy. Even Kuroo himself was scared to see his score, passing was one thing, his expectations for himself was another thing.

He looked over to you, and again. You seemed,

Oddly calm

No nervous foot tapping, ghost piano playing on your table, or even your fingers fidgeting with each other.

Nothing.

Completely calm

It was unnerving, he’s never seen you that calm before.

You’ve always been someone who matched his energetic lifestyle, so seeing you so quiet and calm was… creepy.

The test papers are finally given back to the students, and the teacher left the classroom.

A range of emotions swept through the class, some crying, others cheering. Kuroo sighed in relief. His scores just reached his own expectations.

He walked over to your table and saw you clutching the paper close to your chest. Readying for the worst, he waited for an outburst of emotion.

Then he saw it.

The first few tears that came out of your eyes. His heart immediately broke at the sight.

He knew you worked hard and didn’t procrastinate the whole week of finals, although you did before. You always made up for it by studying extra hard a day before finals.

He took his palm and wiped a few of your tears. “Oi, cutie, come on give me a smile. Grades don’t mean everything. Plus, I bet that one subject you love you got a really good score on.”

He took your chin on his right hand and lightly pulled it up to look at him.

His eyes widening with little bit of fear. You were SMILING???

Seeing his shocked expression made you laugh really loudly whilst wiping the tears. You put all of your test papers on your table for him to see.

Every one of your finals you didn’t only get a passing score.

But every one of them were above 85.

You got a 90 for math.

“I DID IT!!!” You enthusiastically yelled and stood up abruptly.

You hugged Kuroo, whilst the table between the two of you made the position a little bit awkward. He leaned into your touch, still confused though.

When you pulled away you laughed at his ridiculously confused expression. You sighed in contempt and sat back down at your chair.

“I slept for 2 hours every single night, just to study. When I come back home from your house, I’d still study. I’d try to understand every single thing we didn’t touch on before.” Your eyes glimmered with a sense of pride.

A new kind of admiration filled his heart as he listened to his beautiful lover talk about all the things they did to help them memorize everything.

You were lost in your own explanation that it took you a while to realize Kuroo was looking at you with the most love-struck expression. “Pffftt, what’s that face.” When he realized he was staring he immediately looked away and blushed.

“Hey hey hey!! I thought you were the teasing one in this relationship.” You continued to tease him whilst laughing.

Kuroo looked back at you and gave you one of the most genuine smiles you’ve ever seen. Successfully making you stop talking, “You’re incredible.”

He said out of nowhere. It amazed you at how Kuroo was able to say those kinds of things with a straight face. You awkwardly laughed at his comment, “You inspired me you know?” His head cocked to the side with curiosity. “I thought to myself, you deserved a smarter lover. So, I wanted to get really good scores this year.”

Oh, if only you knew how much YOU inspired HIM to be a better person. Since it was time to go home anyways, Kuroo took your bag with his and dragged you across the hallways.

“Where the hell are we going???” You were utterly confused.

Kuroo didn’t even reply, he just ran all the way back to his home and his room. You threw off your shoes as quickly as possible whilst he was still pulling you.

He pulled you on his bed with him and immediately cuddled close.

“The fuck?” It wasn’t as if you didn’t like it.

You just were… confused

“You said you haven’t been getting enough sleep so we’re taking a nap right now. I won’t take no for an answer chibi-chan. If you do say no, I’ll just keep bragging about my scores until you’ll sleep just to get away from me.”

You scoffed, “I’d never fall asleep with THAT kind of bedtime story.”

Kuroo looked down at you, “Well, first off I got a 98 in math, it wasn’t hard. I saw that question 4 you got it wrong and the way to actually do it is-”

“Go to hell, I’d rather sleep.” His signature hyena laugh filled the room.

Adorable as always.

“Then go to sleep cutie.”

You hummed in agreement and put your hands around his torso, whilst he to yours. His chin resting on the top of your head and you nuzzling into his broad chest.

This was the perfect end to finals week.

[broccoliboix5peepeeman]

Req: Shōto is the campus' delinquent. Nobody dare to cross him. Izuku is the campus' nerd. His low social status makes him an easy target of bullying. One day, they're paired together for a project. What starts out as a school assignment blossoms a beautiful friendship as they realized that they're the same. They're both no strangers to pain. Izuku sees Shōto as his own person despite his surname. Shōto sees hurt, pain & sadness behind Izuku's smiles. And eventually, they both fall in love.

Ooooo thank you for the request! :D

'Shoji and Tokoyami for group one. Uraraka and Asui for group two.'

'Yesss!' Uraraka muttered under her breath. Izuku smirked at his friend and nudged her with his elbow.

'Get in there!' He winked, wiggling his eyebrows playfully, earning a frantic shhhhh from his friend.

'Momo and Kirishima for group four.' Aizawa called out. 'Jirou and Hagakure for group five.

'Ooo, halfway though, Dekuuu!' Uraraka sang quietly. 'Are you worried?'

'As long as it's not Kacchan, I don't mind.' He shrugged.

'Bakugou and Mineta for group seven.' Aizawa continued, tone bored, even as the blonde roared with protest.

'Thank fuck.' Izuku mumbled.

'Midoriya and Todoroki for group eight.' His teacher spoke, looking pointedly at him before focusing back on the sheet.

While Uraraka giggled next to him, Izuku froze, his posture straight and a look of shock on his face. He felt a pair of dichromatic eyes burning holes into his back, although he could just be paranoid.

Him and… Todoroki? UA's top heartthrob and bad boy, partnered with Izuku? Aizawa-Sensei had to be kidding, surely.

'Right, that's all of you.' Their teacher called out. 'Sit in your pairs and we'll go over the project in more detail.'

Immediately, the classroom broke out into excited chatter as everyone shouted across the room for their partner. Before Izuku could even say farewell to Uraraka, his friend had already jumped up from her seat to bounce towards where Tsu was sitting.

Izuku sighed and - with significantly less energy - got up to search the room for his partner. Of course, it didn't take long to spot him; even without the scar, Todoroki stood out like a sore thumb.

He sat towards the back of the room, slouched in his chair as he stared out of the window, unfazed by the chaos around him. The morning sun bathed his skin and made the crimson half of his hair shine. Izuku noticed that his classmate was wearing his signature leather jacket, covered in various badges and pins, along with a turtleneck, a pair of navy jeans that clung to his legs, and black combat boots. 

It was no secret that Todoroki was the "most handsome guy in school", so it made sense that today was no different. It just didn't help Izuku in the slightest - in fact, it made it even harder for him to clear his throat and gather his attention.

'To- Todoroki-kun, hi!' He squeaked, a large smile plastered to his face that didn't quite reach his eyes. When the aforementioned turned to regard him nonchalantly, Izuku's nerves only exacerbated. 'Do you mind if I sit, seen as we're part- partners?'

When his classmate remained silent, he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and laughed. 'Sorry about that by the way… I know you probably don't want to be stuck with someone like me.'

'Why are you apologising?' Todoroki raised an eyebrow. 'It's not your fault.'

You didn't deny it though… Izuku chewed on his lip for lack of a better response, until Todoroki eventually nodded to the seat next to him.

'Your reputation precedes you, Midoriya.' He commented as Izuku fumbled into his chair. 'As does mine. I don't mind working with you as long as you pull your weight. You may think I don't give a shit about grades, but you don't know me.'

Izuku turned to regard him with wide eyes, but Todoroki had already gone back to stare out of the window. 'Library after school. We'll make a start then. Can't be arsed going home and I assume you're not too keen on walking home at the same time as Bakugou.'

Izuku furrowed his eyebrows at that. He knew Todoroki could be blunt but… Oh well, he did have a point. Kacchan would jump him the moment they were out of the school gates - clearly wanting to release all that pent-up rage on Izuku because, for some reason, his old friend had made it his own personal goal to make him his punching bag.

'Sure.' Izuku replied, turning to face the front of the room as Aizawa told them all to quiet down. Why me?

☀️🌙

Izuku twirled his pen in his hand as he read through his notes in the library. If the librarian asked, it was school work, even if the "Hero analysis #27" scribbled over the cover was a dead give-away.

Izuku wanted to be a doctor, a hero who saves lives. Ever since he had learnt to read, he was fascinated by how the body worked and how to treat various ailments. His analysis books were where he stored all the information he had absorbed from his readings.

'Last time I checked, "loss of executive functioning in patients with primary progressive multiple sclerosis" wasn't on the syllabus.' A low voice spoke.

Izuku flinched so violently his elbow slammed into the back of his chair and he almost dropped his pen. He winced at the pain and looked up to find Todoroki gazing at him, unfazed by his display.

'T- Todoroki-kun!' A bright smile appeared on Izuku's face and he gestured to the seat opposite him. When his classmate took it, he quickly put away his notebook and replaced it with his psychology workbook and textbook. 'I was starting to think you'd forgotten.'

'I just had a few things to sort out.' Todoroki shrugged, taking out his own book.

Izuku nodded along, expecting him to elaborate, but apparently that wasn't his classmate's intention. Instead, they sat in awkward silence for several moments, until Izuku shook his head to ground himself and opened his textbook.

'Right, let's get started then.' He announced, a trained smile on his face. 'Aizawa-Sensei said we have to do a presentation on the sleep-wake cycle for ours, which is actually quite interesting. I had a quick look over lunch and I was thinking we could start the intro by covering the three different cycles. So, ultradian rhythms are cycles that are less than 24 hours and can repeat throughout the day, infradian rhythms are more than 24 hours - like the menstrual cycle - then we finish on circadian rhythms, which focuses specifically on sleep-wake cycle, then go on to talk about-'

Izuku paused then, realising he had definitely started to ramble there. He knew how much his peers found his habit annoying, so he was surprised that Todoroki hadn't interrupted him and told him to shut up before now.

'Why did you stop?' His classmate asked, genuinely confused.

'You… You understood all of that?' Izuku returned.

'Yes.' Todoroki showed him his workbook, where he had started writing Izuku's ideas down.

'But I was muttering…' Heat rose to his face as he inspected the page. 'You don't find that annoying?'

Todoroki frowned at that.

'Not really. Why would I?'

'Everyone else does.' Izuku mumbled, looking away.

'I'm not everyone else.' Todoroki scratched his cheek, just below his scar. Before Izuku could ask though, he cleared his throat. 'Anyway, I agree with you. Once we focus on circadian rhythms, we can go over the stages of sleep.'

'Sounds good to me!' Izuku beamed. 'We can talk about non-REM and REM too!'

'Yes.' Todoroki nodded. 'Then maybe go into the different areas involved in sleep, so photoreceptors and the pineal gland.'

'That's a great idea!' Izuku burst out, brain going a mile a minute. This was going easier than he had expected. 'Gosh, this is going to be so fun! Right, I know it's not entirely relevant to the presentation itself, but you know dolphins?'

'Yes, I know dolphins.' Todoroki huffed, tone slightly amused. 

Was that almost a smile?!

'Well, their brains have a left and right hemisphere like we do, and when they go to sleep, they turn off one hemisphere and the other one stays awake so they can come up for air and stuff! Then they switch around when the first hemisphere is fully rested! Some sharks do it too, it's so interesting!'

Izuku paused for breath. When Todoroki said nothing in response and looked at him with an expression he couldn't quite place, Izuku blushed with embarrassment. 'S- Sorry…'

'No, you…' Todoroki spoke, his voice oddly gentle. 'That's the first time today I've seen you genuinely smile.'

… What?

'I'm always smiling.' Izuku tilted his head to the side. Smiling was his thing. Everywhere he went, he always made sure to smile, even if he was having a bad day. He smiled to put others at ease.

'It never reaches your eyes though.' Todoroki regarded him with something akin to understanding, albeit Izuku didn't know why. 'It's always fake.'

He winced at the wording.

'Does that bother you?' He twirled his pen and looked away, apprehension in his voice.

'A little.' Todoroki admitted. 'I understand why you lie, but I'd rather you be honest - at least, with me, I'd like you to be honest.'

Izuku considered his words. Despite the lack of malice in his tone, he still felt like he had been called out.

'I'm sorry.' He spoke, not knowing what else to say.

'You apologise a lot.' Todoroki stated. 'You don't owe anyone an apology, Midoriya.'

Izuku didn't like this. He didn't know where this was coming from and why Todoroki was saying all this. It wasn't a bad thing, but it was overwhelming. No one had ever called him out for his smiles before.

'I have to go.' He stood abruptly and gathered his books, stuffing them into his yellow backpack. Todoroki looked at him, mildly bewildered.

'Okay. When do you want to meet up next?' He asked before Izuku could book it out of there.

'Up to you.' He shrugged. ‘I can’t do tomorrow though.’

'How about Thursday after school?' Todoroki asked. 'We can go to my place - my old man is at the station all day then so he won't bother us.'

Izuku gulped at the idea of meeting Todoroki Enji, the city's chief of police who was rumoured to be as corrupt as they came.

'He definitely won't be there?' He twirled a loose green curl around his finger.

'I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't know for sure.' Todoroki raised an eyebrow. Izuku didn't know what to make of that.

'Okay, sure. I'll meet you at the front gates after class and we'll walk together.' When Todoroki nodded once, Izuku tried not to force a smile and mirrored the action. 'Great. Right, I've got to go. Bye!'

Before his classmate could say anything else, Izuku quick-walked out of the library. Once he exited the building, he broke into a run down the street. He liked running when he was anxious, it helped calm him.

Izuku sighed and thought of blue and grey eyes, staring into his soul. He then promptly tripped over his own two feet and landed on the floor with a thud.

Resigned to his fate, Izuku made no effort to get up and sighed heavily, cheeks squished against the pavement.

It was going to be a long few weeks.

☀️🌙

[Uwawaka: 17:05] Dekuuuuu!!! Todoroki-kun just cornered me and demanded your number?!?! Erm, have a nice life I guess? I get your shoes when you die

[Me: 17:09] Waitwaitwait WHAT?!?!?! YOU SAID YES?!

[Me: 17:10] URARAKA ANSWER ME

[Me: 17:12] I will eat your pet hamster, you whore

Izuku collapsed onto his bed and smacked his forehead with his palm. Several more minutes passed without a response and he was seriously considering calling her, when his phone suddenly vibrated.

He quickly scrambled for the device. However, when he unlocked it and saw the message, he gasped and threw his phone at the wall.

'Izuku!' His mum shouted from the kitchen. 'What was that?!'

'Nothing, mum! Sorry!' He shouted, moving to pick it back up.

[Unknown: 17.16] Is this Midoriya Izuku?

[Me: 17:18] Yes? Who is this?

Izuku knew full well who it was and added the number to his contacts anyway.

[Todoroki: 17:20] It's Todoroki from Aizawa's psychology class. I got your number from a friend. Hope you don't mind

Either Todoroki was downplaying the situation or Uraraka was being overdramatic. He honestly didn't know who to believe.

[Me: 17:21] No problem, what's up?

[Todoroki: 17:23] I was going to wait till tomorrow but evidently I have the patience of a toddler.

[Todoroki: 17:24] I wanted to apologise if I made you uncomfortable earlier. I shouldn't have indirectly accused you of lying when I do it all the time.

Izuku didn't even know where to start with unpacking that.

[Me: 17:27] You don't have to apologise, you were right. I just smile a lot to make others feel at ease. I didn't realise it could be mistaken for dishonesty if I'm not being genuine.

[Me: 17:27] You lie all the time?

It was bold to ask that, but he couldn't help himself. Izuku was a meddler, through and through. Plus, Todoroki mentioned it first so it wasn’t like he didn’t want to talk about it, he reasoned.

[Todoroki: 17:30] I can understand that. I'd just rather you be honest with me. After all, if you're not happy, it could affect our project

[Todoroki: 17:32] Well, I tell everyone that it's a birthmark on my face when it's clearly a scar. I told a dude I wasn't gay because I didn't want to go out with him. I have depression but deny it when I get asked about it. Then there's a bunch of other stuff that I haven't told anyone that I won't even get into, but yeah

'Wow okay...' Izuku puffed his cheeks out. ‘I guess the reason Todoroki-kun doesn’t talk much is because he’s a over-sharer, but it’s okay. You got this, Izuku.’

[Me: 17:33] Lying and not disclosing something aren't the same thing! But with the stuff you have lied about, I can understand why you don't want people to know, especially considering the way others treat me just because I'm different. And your scar isn't anyone's business except your own!

He pressed send, then hesitated over the keyboard.

[Me: 17:34] Also! If you ever need to talk to someone, I'm here! We're friends now, aren't we? :)

Izuku stared at the screen, waiting for a response.

Several minutes passed without one and he was starting to question himself. However, just before Izuku could completely stress out over how badly he had fucked up, the screen brightened.

[Todoroki: 17:45] Thank you, Midoriya.

Izuku smiled at his phone.

That had gone better than he had expected.

☀️🌙

'Todoroki-kun!'

Shoto nodded to Midoriya, who was waiting by the gate. He was smiling again, but Shoto could tell he was nervous from the way his eyes were on high-alert, darting around the courtyard as if he were about to be attacked. Shoto didn't blame him though - in fact, he'd be more worried if his classmate wasn't on edge.

'Midoriya.' He greeted, once he reached his side. Due to the proximity though, he suddenly noticed the gravel rash that littered his new friend's jaw. 'What happened to you?'

'Er…' Midoriya blushed bright pink. Distantly, Shoto registered that it was actually quite cute, albeit he wouldn't admit it. 'I- I went for a run on Tuesday and tripped.'

'You should be more careful.' Shoto commented, eliciting a laugh from his classmate. 'I'm serious.'

'Yeah, I know but…' Midoriya cleared his throat. 'You just, you sound like my mum.'

His mum?

'Oh.'

'N- Not that that's a bad thing!' Midoriya frantically waved his hands in front of him. 'In fact, thank you… For caring, I guess. You're a kind person, Todoroki-kun!'

Shoto didn't know what to make of that. His stomach felt funny and his face was burning but he wasn't sure why. He coughed to compose himself.

'My house is this way.' He nodded in the right direction and they set off before Shoto could say or do anything he might regret.

The two of them walked in silence. Shoto noticed his classmate fiddling with the straps of his backpack as he mumbled to himself, but he said nothing. In fact, he found that he quite liked Midoriya's voice. It was quite soothing.

Suddenly, he saw a flash of blonde out of the corner of his eye and Shoto quickly looked to find Bakugou across the street. Midoriya hadn't noticed him yet, but Shoto recognised the sadistic smile plastered to Bakugou's face when he spotted the green-haired boy.

Shoto had a particular hatred of bullies, having grown up with one all his life. He knew about the general animosity between Midoriya and Bakugou, and how it had once ended up with the former out of school for almost a week when they were younger. Shoto also knew that Bakugou could be a violent fuck and, as a result, had never really bothered to talk to him.

Now though, Shoto saw the almost predatory look in his eyes as he smirked at Midoriya; he noticed how his classmate - his friend - froze at having been spotted.

'K- Kacchan…' Midoriya mumbled, a wobbly smile on his face. It made Shoto angry - not at Midoriya, but at Bakugou, and at himself for not intervening sooner, even though it wasn't really his problem.

Before he could stop himself, Shoto raised his arm and wrapped it around Midoriya's shoulder, bringing him close to his side. His classmate squeaked at the action, clearly tense.

'To- Todoroki-kun?!'

'Put your hand on my waist.' Shoto instructed, leaning in close to whisper in his ear. When Midoriya complied, snaking a trembling hand around him, Shoto hummed approvingly and looked up at Bakugou.

The blonde was watching them, mouth agape and clearly irritated. When he took a step towards them, Shoto flashed him a warning glare as if to say 'hands off', before pressing a swift kiss to Midoriya's fluffy curls to accentuate his point.

Bakugou stilled at that, his eye twitching, but Shoto knew he understood his position. On the social scale, Shoto was higher up than he was - as much as the latter wouldn't want to admit it - and so whoever Shoto said was off-limits was definitely off-limits. It didn't matter if it was an act or not.

The two of them continued forwards, watching as Bakugou eventually growled and skulked away. When he was out of sight, Midoriya audibly sighed and relaxed against him.

It was… Nice.

'Thank you.' His friend murmured. 'You didn't have to do that.'

'I wanted to.' Shoto shrugged. He knew he should relinquish his hold on Midoriya now that the threat had passed, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. The warmth that radiated from his classmate's touch was calming. Plus, Midoriya didn't seem too eager to let go either, so it wasn't like he was taking advantage of him or anything.

When they eventually reached his house, Shoto reluctantly broke away to fumble in his pocket for his keys. To his surprise though, the door was already unlocked.

Caution in his stance, he slid the door open and checked the shoe rack to see who was home. When Fuyumi's work shoes and Natsuo's trainers came into view, he sighed with relief and opened the door fully to alert his siblings of his arrival. 'It's me!'

It was only then that he registered Midoriya regarding him anxiously. 'Don't worry, it's just my brother and sister.'

'O- Okay.'

Shoto nodded and stepped inside, removing his shoes and waiting for Midoriya to do the same. He then led the way through his house, hoping there wouldn't be any interruptions, but alas, it seemed the universe hated him.

'Shotoutoooo!!!' Natsuo's voice rang out, before his older brother appeared, leaning against the door frame of his room. When he noticed Midoriya, half hidden behind Shoto, he grinned mischievously. 'You brought a friend over!'

'You- You didn't tell them I was coming?!' Midoriya squeaked so only Shoto could hear.

'Yes, I brought a friend home. What of it?' He ignored him and raised an eyebrow at his brother, unamused.

'Nee-San saw you two getting all lovey dovey down the street.'

'I don't-'

'It's true. Don't deny it!' Fuyumi's voice echoed down the hallway, eliciting a cackle from Natsuo.

'Whatever.' Shoto placed a hand on his hip, exasperated. 'Midoriya and I have a psychology assignment to get done, so I'd appreciate it if you fucked off.'

'Nawww, come on! I'm just having fun!' Natsuo winked before looking past him to address Midoriya. 'Shotouto pretends to be an aloof bad boy, but really he's a big softie who loves strawberry milk and manga. Isn't that right, Sho-?'

'NATSUO-NII!' Shoto exclaimed, completely mortified. He grabbed Midoriya's arm and dragged him down the corridor. 'We'll be leaving now!'

'Nice to meet you, Midoriya-kun!' Natsuo called, before Shoto slammed his bedroom door shut and sighed against it.

'He seems nice.' A quiet voice muttered.

Shit. Shoto's eyes widened and he took a breath, composing himself before he turned around to face Midoriya, who was fiddling with his sleeve.

'He's a pain in the arse.' He grumbled, before he strode forwards and set up the chabudai table in his room. 'He always does it. Something about wanting to make up for lost time.'

'Lost time?' Midoriya asked, removing his backpack to help.

'My old man wanted to keep me separate from my siblings when we were younger. Something about "not wanting to soil the perfect child".' Shoto shrugged, gathering two cushions and handing one to Midoriya. 'So it wasn't until about a year ago that I actually got to speak to them.'

'What happened a year ago?' Midoriya was definitely being nosy, but for some reason, Shoto didn't mind it; part of him actually wanted to tell him, even though he had no idea why. Something just told Shoto that he could trust him.

Or it's just because he's the first person your age who has ever bothered to ask. Another part of his mind supplied.

When the two of them sat down on the cushions adjacent to each other, Shoto pulled out his laptop, while Midoriya provided the textbook and workbook.

'When I was younger, my mother used to live at home too. She tried to protect us when the old bastard would come home and want to take his anger out on someone. He liked to take it out on me especially - make sure I toughened up - but she'd always turn his attention on her. One night, when I was about eight, mother had a complete breakdown. She saw the left side of my face, thought I was him and well… The closest thing was the kettle and boom.' He gestured vaguely to his scar. 'That's how this happened.'

Shoto didn't miss the look of complete horror on Izuku's face. 'He sent her away after that, which meant things got worse for me and my siblings. Aizawa-Sensei noticed my bruises last year and we've been working to get him put away, but it's difficult considering his position. It also didn't help that he's caught onto us and is now trying to pretend that everything is better now. That's why I'm allowed to see Natsuo and Fuyumi. He's been trying to manipulate things but he can't pretend forever.'

Shoto trailed off then and silence fell over them. He watched Midoriya for his reaction. He had never told anyone about that before.

He stared at his friend, but his vision became distorted. He thought of his old man, of how his mother had called him "unsightly" before burning him, of how his siblings used to look at him with apprehension and fear.

Shoto frowned. 'Sometimes I wonder if I'm just as bad as him.'

His words were spoken barely above a whisper, but the way Midoriya's head snapped to attention evidently showed that he had heard him.

'You know, Todoroki-kun…' He spoke gently, determined eyes finally meeting Shoto's own. 'I can't possibly understand everything you went through, but I do know this.'

A calloused hand landed on Shoto's shoulder and his vision re-focused to find a small smile gracing Midoriya's face. 'You're not your father. You're Todoroki Shoto, you're a kind person and you're my friend. He can't even compare to you.'

Shoto's mouth opened, but no words came out. Midoriya's words played on repeat in his head.

You're not your father. You're Todoroki Shoto.

He managed to turn his head away, hair hiding the stray tear that had fallen from his eye.

You're a kind person and you're my friend.

'Todoroki-kun, are you okay?'

So many thoughts were screaming inside his head. It was deafening, with Midoriya's words playing loudest of all.

He can't even compare to you.

'Toilet.' Shoto stood abruptly, pointedly not facing his classmate, and strode out of the room, ignoring Midoriya's bewildered shriek. He slid open the door to the bathroom opposite and shut himself away, turning the light on before he braced himself against the sink. His knuckles turned as white as the porcelain and he tried to calm his breathing.

Why was he acting like this? He was supposed to be calm, composed, aloof.

Just like father wanted. An unhelpful part of his mind taunted as tears streamed down his face. He felt a sob build up in the back of his throat. Hold it together. You're pathetic.

'Todoroki-kun.' His thoughts were interrupted by a quiet knock on the door. 'Should I get Natsuo or Fuyumi?'

'No!' Shoto exclaimed, a little harsher than he had intended. When Midoriya didn't immediately respond, he started to worry that he had scared him away.

'Okay.' His classmate eventually spoke, voice muffled due to the door. 'Can I come in?'

You don't want him to see you like this. You're supposed to be better than this-

'Yes.' He choked out, not looking up when the door slid open.

Gentle footfalls echoed on the tiles until Shoto felt a warm presence at his side. Midoriya then crouched down next to the sink to look up at Shoto.

'What's going through your mind?' He asked.

Everything.

'What you said just now, about me being kind and…' He swallowed heavily. 'You didn't mean it, did you? You were just saying it to make me feel better, right?'

'Oh, Todoroki-kun.' Midoriya gazed at him sadly. 'Of course I meant it. You told me to be honest with you, remember?'

Shoto leant his elbows on the sink to hold his face in his hands as he cried silently, only his ragged breathing exposing him.

He heard Midoriya shuffle to his feet. 'Can I… Can I hug you?'

Shoto blanked at that. Of all the things his friend could have said, he hadn't expected that. He furrowed his brow. When was the last time he had been properly hugged? With Fuyumi? His mother?

'Why?' He found himself asking instead, lowering his hands to look at Midoriya, who smiled softly at him.

'Because you look like you need it and I'm an expert hugger.'

Shoto blinked dumbly for a moment, regarding kind eyes, a genuine smile and open arms that radiated comfort, then slowly nodded.

'O- Okay…' He whispered.

Midoriya's smile brightened and he stepped forward, slowly wrapping his arms around Shoto's neck. One hand rested against his shoulder blades, while the other gently held the back of his head, guiding Shoto to the crook of Midoriya's neck. He went willingly and basked in the warmth, immediately relaxing against his friend.

Crooked fingers stroked his hair as Midoriya leant his head against him and he quickly became overwhelmed with emotion. Kind touches were so foreign to him that he usually hated the idea of physical contact. He didn't know why he had let Midoriya in, but he was glad he did.

A broken sob suddenly escaped him and he gingerly returned the hug, squeezing Midoriya's waist and clinging to his shirt. He didn't know how long they stayed like that, Midoriya's voice whispering words of encouragement until his eyes were dry, his friend's shirt was soaked and his throat was hoarse.

'I'm sorry.' He mumbled against Midoriya's neck. 'I don't know what came over me.'

'You don't owe anyone an apology.' His classmate quickly assured, echoing Shoto's words from a few days ago. 'Do you feel better?'

'I don't know.' Shoto answered honestly. Sure, letting his tears fall after years of bottling everything up was cathartic, but he had also unloaded all of his problems onto someone else just because of one comment; it made him feel disgusted at himself.

'It's okay not to be sure right now.' Midoriya pulled back to look him in the eye. 'I'll always be here to talk if you need, Todoroki-kun. We're friends and I want to help.'

Shoto must have pulled a face, because his classmate huffed, amused. 'It's an open offer. We can leave it for now.'

'Thank you, Midoriya.' Shoto didn't elaborate, but he didn't think he needed to, based on the way his friend's smile brightened.

'Shall we go work on our project for a bit?' Midoriya asked patiently. 'Then maybe we could watch a movie or something? I saw your Ghibli badges on your jacket - maybe we could watch one of them?'

Shoto wiped his eyes with his fist and nodded.

'That sounds nice.'

☀️🌙

'How could you?!' Izuku exclaimed, hand over his heart, horrified as his mum showed Todoroki his baby photos.

He had left them alone for one minute to get snacks, and now his soon-to-be-disowned mother was huddled up with his friend on the sofa, flicking through a photo album like it wasn't the most embarrassing thing in the world.

The two hardly spared him a glance, before continuing to point and giggle at baby Izuku in a hero onesie.

'Midoriya really is cute.' Todoroki smiled warmly and Izuku's cheeks suddenly felt a little hotter. 'How old was he in this one?'

It had been several weeks since their project had been assigned. Despite the emotional outbursts, they had managed to get their presentation done and performed. Their grades were still being determined, but Izuku was confident that they had done well.

That wasn't all that had happened though. Ever since that day Todoroki had opened up about his past, the two of them had grown closer, frequently texting and hanging out at Izuku's after school. They even spent their free periods together, which seemed to intrigue and confuse a lot of students. After all, Todoroki was the scary, mysterious pretty boy and Izuku was a self-identified nerd who liked to mumble to himself. Neither of them really cared about what their peers thought though.

As the days turned into weeks, however, Izuku realised that not only were people no longer tormenting him in the corridors, but Todoroki had started to smile more. Whenever Izuku would ramble about anatomy, he would listen, lips upturned and process every word with interest. Izuku loved his friend's smile and each one felt special because Izuku had caused it.

It took a single conversation with Uraraka to realise what was happening, and another one with Fuyumi to gain the courage to do what he was about to do.

'Mum, could I talk to Todoroki-kun alone for a minute?' Izuku rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. His mum knew about his crush - she had easily picked up on it due to Izuku's habit of muttering about the things he liked - so he hoped she would take the hint.

'Okay, sweetheart.' She grinned when Izuku's jaw dropped, mortified at the endearment. He also didn't miss the way Todoroki bit his bottom lip slightly with amusement.

Before Izuku could chastise her for clearly inappropriate behaviour in front of company, his mum closed the album and stood. 'I'll be in my room if you need me.'

When the door shut behind her, Izuku sighed with relief.

'I love her more than anything but I swear she gets some sort of sick satisfaction in seeing me suffer.' He groaned.

'I think she's great.' Todoroki smiled up at him. It lit up his entire face, no matter how small, and Izuku thought he looked beautiful.

Focus!

'So what did you want to talk about?' His friend asked, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other.

'You're a dear friend to me and I know we weren't close until recently, but you've become a big part of my life.' He began, fiddling with his hands to ease his nerves. 'I'm sorry, I don't really know how to say this.'

'It's okay.' Todoroki spoke, his smile vanishing. 'I understand if you feel like it's too much. Sometimes I can get a bit overwhelmed by all this - having a friend - but I treasure your friendship too, so I'll respect your decision if you want to stop-'

'Wait, what?' Izuku exclaimed. 'I'm trying to tell you that I have a crush on you, not that I don't want to be friends.'

Shoto stared at him with wide eyes.

…

Oh fuck.

Izuku slapped a hand over his mouth and let out a strangled cry as realisation set in. He wasn't even that surprised at having admitted his feelings; he was surprised at how easy it had been.

What wasn't easy was the look of uncertainty on Todoroki's face.

'Midoriya…'

'I'm so sorry for making you uncomfortable-'

'I have a crush on you too, I think.'

That was the thing he least expected his friend to say.

'You do?'

'Yeah.' Todoroki scratched at his flushed cheek, no longer looking like his usually-composed self and instead rather vulnerable. 'I've known for a while that I feel different towards you compared to others. I feel… Safe around you, like I can trust you, and while everyone calls you plain-looking, I think you're actually quite cute.'

Izuku felt like his head was going to explode. One, Todoroki had just called him cute; two, his crush just admitted to feeling safe around him; and three, Todoroki was looking at him with such sincerity that his chest ached.

'That makes me so happy, Todoroki-kun, you have no idea.' He whispered, tears spilling from his eyes. 'I feel the same about you, except you're not cute, you're… Actually quite breathtaking.'

When he was met with silence, Izuku looked up to find Todoroki looking at him with amusement.

'Well now you've made me look bad.' He huffed, standing up and walking towards him.

'You could never look bad. That was my whole point. ' Izuku quipped, before suddenly being enveloped in a hug.

That was another thing about their relationship that surprised Izuku in a good way: Todoroki, touch-starved most of his life, had become particularly fond of cuddles. Now, Izuku had no qualms with this - he encouraged his friend to smother him with hugs whenever he needed it - but this hug felt different. Several emotions were communicated in that moment.

It almost felt desperate, yet hopeful.

'I'll have to thank Aizawa for pairing us up for that project.' Todoroki murmured against his neck, eliciting a short laugh from Izuku.

'Yeah definitely.' He pulled away to take his friend's hand, interlocking their fingers. 'We can thank him together.'

Todoroki huffed with mirth.

'I like the sound of that.'

[forthegodsandtheghosts]

The Four Times Virgil Was Sleepy Around The Other Sides and The One Time He Fell Asleep

Link to AO3 version

Post the inspired the concept

Post that helped me with scene 4

Virgil doesn't have a good sleep schedule. That fact absolutely affects him in his everyday life. Just a bunch of Virgil being sleepy and defensive about it.

This is honestly just very self-indulgent because I just absolutely love Virgil Sanders and can't exist without thinking about the Sides for five seconds

It had been a long… day? Week? Month? Interval of time. I had been a long interval of time for the resident mindscape emo who just couldn’t seem to catch a break.

Letting out a long, drawn-out groan of agony, Virgil flopped down onto the couch, fully planning on just being a general nuisance by hogging it. Though, as soon as he stilled, hands resting on his stomach, he noticed just how good laying down felt. Arching his back off the couch, he heard those satisfying clicks before dropping back down with a sigh.

He could almost sleep here. There wasn’t exactly anything stopping him. The other Sides are off doing their own thing and Thomas probably wouldn’t miss a wanna-be vampire hollering in his ears. Besides, he needed the rest. So, slowly he allows his muscles to relax further as his eyes slide shut.

Then he hears footsteps.

Virgil shoots upright, scooting to lean on the arm of the couch his head was previously next to, trying to look natural. His gaze goes to the doorway just as Patton enters the room.

He startles when he notices Virgil’s presence, legs sprawled out, still taking up the couch. “Anxiety! Hi, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” Patton’s shocked expression quickly changes to show his typical cheerful smile, confusion about Virgil being there present none the less.

“I could say the same, but we live in the same mindscape and are bound to see each other most of the time, so I can’t.” Virgil’s sass is prominent no matter how deadpan he sounds and Patton’s smile almost wavers.

“Of course, kiddo! I didn’t mean anything bad by you being here, just got a bit surprised. Well I’ve got something to do, I’ll see you around, Anxiety!” he called as he went back down the hall he just entered from.

--

It was about a week later; Virgil had managed to get one (1) almost full night of sleep – he got maybe two hours – and was once again extremely tired and considering just saying fuck it and going back to bed for the rest of forever. So how exactly did he end up dragged into a movie night with the rest of the Sides? Pure dumb lack of luck.

He was placed on the couch, sandwiched between Patton and Logan – Patton who just wants to give the newest member of their little group the most love he can and Logan who would probably implode if he had to sit on the ground – Roman sitting at Patton’s feet on the bean bag he dragged over. Virgil could already feel himself fading, with the lights off and all the warmth and the shockingly comfortable surface that is Patton’s chest he was being pulled into. Honestly, it’s as if the guy was made to be as huggable as possible.

Virgil soon reached the point of having to force his eyes to stay open barely halfway through the first movie. He couldn’t fall asleep. He’s tough and dangerous and they can’t know he sleeps and becomes defenseless sometimes, it’s far too dangerous. Who knows what could happen to him, what they could do–

His own internal ramblings were cut of as he let out a wide yawn, half burying his face into Patton’s chest. Patton released a small sound that definitely caught the other two’s attention if the yawn didn’t. “Are you tired, kiddo?” Patton quietly asked, hand soothing through Virgil’s hair.

Virgil quickly pushed himself off Patton’s chest. “No. I’m just getting bored of sitting here, watching a bunch of singing animals.” He stood from the couch and made his way quickly to the doorway, ignoring the disappointed expression on Patton’s face and relishing in Roman’s offended one. “See you tomorrow maybe.” Then he disappears up the stairs.

--

It’s a quiet day. Not the odd kind of quiet.

Rather, the kind of quiet that is achieved when everyone is relaxing in the common room doing their own thing. It’s not as if a vacuum sealed chamber, there’s still the sounds of Logan flipping pages in his book, of Roman’s pencil scribbling away in his notebook, and of whatever show Patton decided to watch. A good quiet that everyone could enjoy. Everyone that was fully awake that is.

Virgil sits on the couch, between Logan on the armchair and Roman on the middle cushion, staring blankly at his phone's home screen. He considered finding another app to entertain himself on but as soon as he hit the home button the fatigue of a poor sleep schedule hit like a bus. At this point, he might as well be sleeping with his eyes open due to his complete lack of responsiveness to anything around him.

Logan glances at the seemingly spacing Side. Eyelids slightly drooping, the lack of spare eyeshadow particles to suggest usage of makeup – which was concerning on it’s own as it almost looks like he is wearing makeup, the heavy lean on the armrest. Anxiety is not doing okay is the conclusion he comes to.

As most should know, Logan is not one to sugar coat or delay, so it’s easy for him to decide to get the current predicament dealt with as soon as possible. “Anxiety,” he starts, closing his book and causing everyone’s attention to move to him, including, just barely, Virgil’s, “from what I have observed, you seem tired. Have you been having issues sleeping?” Right to the point.

Everyone’s attention is now on Virgil, even as he still seems to be processing what Logan said, a confused expression on his face and half-asleep glaze to his eyes. “Wha’?” He says after a few more moments, blinking dazedly at Logan.

“Alright, that is everything I need to know.” Logan stands and moves towards the closet they keep spare blankets and pillows, A.K.A the Pillow Fort Closet™. He pulls out a soft blanket and pillow and carries them back into the common room, setting them down on the armchair. He quickly shoos Roman and Patton off the couch while Virgil watches, barely processing anything. “Anxiety, can you lay down for me?”

Virgil barely registers when he complies, lifting his head when he’s told to as Logan slips the pillow under it and drapes the blanket over the rest of him. It’s only after Logan sits back down that Virgil realizes what just happened and is sitting, standing, and sinking out in quick succession.

--

Months later, a few days after Virgil revealed his name and everyone got a dandy style change, things had returned to relative normativity except Virgil was marginally more included in many things the other Sides choose to do than before.

It’s currently night, a particular night in which Roman has been up even into the morning so late he decides there’s no point in sleeping. Roman decides to head downstairs and get a cup of coffee with the promise he’ll actually sleep tomorrow. What he finds isn’t not normal, but definitely not expected.

When he rounds the doorway into the kitchen, he catches sight of a large mass around counter level. He’s immediately flicks on the light, earning a startled hiss from the mass, now revealed to be Virgil sitting in the sink, the Side seemingly just woken up by Roman’s entrance.

“Virgil?” Roman asks. “What are you doing in the sink?”

“Sleeping. What are you doing up?” He rubs harshly at his eyes with a wide yawn.

“I got… busy and came to get some coffee. Why are you sleeping in the sink?”

Virgil only responds with a shrug, slumping further into the sink though his gaze doesn’t leave Roman.

Roman only nods and gets to work on making his coffee. “Well, it’s not my back that’s gonna feel like a dragon hit me with a tail whip later.”

“Whatever.” Virgil, still annoyed and tired from being so abruptly woken, continues to watch Roman with a slightly dazed stare until he finally leaves the room, turning the lights off as he went.

As soon as he's gone up the stairs, Virgil falls right back to sleep.

--

It was yet another, apparently mandatory now, movie night, and Virgil isn’t complaining. He is, once again, being cuddled by Patton and is happy to cuddle back with the easy bribe of hair petting being offered. Logan sits on his other side holding one of his hands as it had soon after his acceptance been revealed that Logan was actually very lenient about – if not openly welcoming – of physical contact. Roman sitting at their feet as per usual in regard to movie nights.

Virgil’s relationship with the other Sides had quickly developed into one of relative familial comfort.

Leading to a very similar predicament to earlier that year.

Sitting for more than an hour in a dark room, surrounded by warm bodies, with plenty of comfortable pillows and blankets surrounding them – a requirement set by Roman and Patton – the perfect movie night and napping environment. So, it’s simple to say that, while Virgil had been getting better sleep as of late, he is pretty sleepy.

There is one difference though. Instead of running out of the room the second his eyes start closing, he relaxes more against Patton’s chest. With a sigh he tries to bury his face further into the body, causing Patton to let out a low, small laugh.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart. You’re safe.” He whispers to Virgil.

Virgil hums in contentedness as Logan slowly rubs the back of his hand and Roman wordlessly lowers the volume of the movie. As he slowly drifts into sleep, he can’t help but think one final conscious thought.

Man, I love my family.

------

@sleepyvirgilprompts

[allsassnoclass]

i blame it on the weather (can you make it better)

Pairing: Michael Clifford/Calum Hood

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Key Tag(s): College AU, Cold, Angst with a Happy Ending

Word Count: 6,177

Read on AO3

A/N: this was tailor-made for @michaelownsmyheart​. I hope you like it darling <3 also big shout out to @clumsyclifford​ for looking this over and giving me Good Advice

—

Michael doesn’t remember the dorm being this cold when he left in December.  He doesn’t know how the space between him and Calum got that cold, either.

—

The drive back to campus feels shorter than normal, songs on the radio flying by with other cars on the highway the further Michael gets from his family and the closer he gets to the loneliness of an empty dorm.  Normally he wouldn’t mind having the place to himself, especially because that means he can blast music as loud as he wants and no one else is going to take the shower with the good water pressure, but there’s something foreboding about it now.

His phone is still empty of messages from the one person he’s been waiting to hear from.  Two weeks alone in the dorms wouldn’t be so bad if he had Calum on the other end of the line to keep him company.

He pulls into his parking spot right as snow begins to fall, a little earlier than predicted.  He sends a quick text to his parents to let them know he made it safe, then grabs his bags and makes the trek to his dorm.  It’s an older building elegantly nestled between the newer residence halls with better air conditioning or elevators that don’t break down every month, but there’s more character to it.  The other dorms are boxy and made of dark brick, but this one is lighter with turrets at the top and heavy wooden doors.  It looks more like a fantasy castle than a dorm building, and Michael’s mum had fallen in love with it immediately on their campus tour a few years ago.  Now that Michael is living here it’s lost some of its luster, but it’s also the only building to have single rooms, and while having Luke as a roommate turned out alright in the end last year, he likes being able to have the room to himself all of the time.

Michael fumbles for his key card to swipe himself in, biting off one of his gloves so he can get it out of his wallet.  Thick flakes land on his coat and hands, the kind that would probably be good for making snowmen if he still did stuff like that but that will be hell to drive in later.  Hopefully the roads will be clear enough by tomorrow, and he probably has some ramen that he never made from last semester that he can heat up for dinner tonight.

Inside doesn’t feel much warmer than outside, but there’s no snow or wind.  Michael stomps his feet in an attempt to get all of the snow off his boots, but freezes as soon as he glances up.

Nestled amongst the armchairs, big windows, fireplace, piano, and little side tables that make up the front lounge, Calum Hood stares back at him like a deer in headlights.  He’s got a notebook and pencil in his hand and a textbook open in front of him, blanket wrapped around his shoulders in a way that Michael wishes he were.  He looks exactly the same as he did when Michael last saw him a few weeks ago, except he’s fully clothed this time.  He looks good.  He looks cozy.

He looks like Michael is the last person he wants to see.

Michael clears his throat.

“I didn’t know you were back on campus,” he says.

“I’m taking a j-term and thought it’d be easier to focus here,” Calum replies, lifting the notebook halfheartedly.  “It’s a prereq for my chem class this semester.  It turns out that switching majors put me a bit behind this time.”

Michael nods.  Calum started as a music education major, then switched to an elementary education major before realizing he didn’t want to deal with little kids.  Now he’s studying to be a high school science teacher, which means he has a few freshman science classes he needs to squeeze into his schedule.  He hadn’t said anything about a j-term to Michael when he registered, but they also haven’t exactly been communicating much since before finals.

“I didn’t expect anyone back yet,” Calum says eventually.

“I got permission to come back early so I can take a few more shifts.  Gotta pay for college somehow, you know…”

Michael trails off, unbalanced and uncomfortable.  It feels wrong to be reacting like this around Calum, just like it felt wrong to not hear from him during finals or break, but after a few more moments of uncomfortable silence and chewing his lip he hefts his bag higher on his shoulder and makes an excuse about wanting to get his room back to rights.  He feels Calum’s eyes on him as he leaves, the weight of his gaze lingering even after Michael has entered the stairwell, dug out his key, and entered his room.  When he takes off his jacket he immediately reaches for a blanket, wrapping himself up and trying to suppress the shivers threatening to erupt throughout his body.

He doesn’t remember the dorm being this cold when he left in December.  He doesn’t know how the space between him and Calum got that cold, either.

-/-

Once he has a bowl of instant ramen in front of him and his stuff more or less put away, Michael calls Luke.

“Good morning,” Luke answers, a leftover joke gone stale from when they were roommates with opposite sleep schedules.  It almost makes him wish for a simpler time when Luke was forcing him to go places like Welcome Week events and they were literally running into people like Calum and Luke was forcing them all to be friends even though Michael’s smoothie got spilled and Calum dropped his nachos.  Michael would take being newly flustered over a hot guy who got a strawberry drink all over his favorite sweatshirt rather than having Calum not fucking talk to him.

“Did you know that Calum’s doing a j-term?”

Luke sighs on the other end of the line.

“I’m doing fine, Michael, thank you for asking.  How are you?”

“I’m bad.  Calum is here and no one warned me.”

“If it makes you feel better, I didn’t tell him that you would be back early, either.”

“That much was obvious.”  Michael stirs his noodles, suddenly feeling like he doesn’t have the right appetite for this.  “He looked like me showing up was the worst thing in the world.”

“Don’t exaggerate.”

“I’m not,” he says.  “You should’ve seen him.  He hates me now, and I still don’t know what I did wrong.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Luke says.  “He misses you, too.”

“If he misses me so much, he should respond to my texts.”

Luke hums on the other end of the line.

“You’re both in the same place now.  Maybe you can corner him in person.”

“I wouldn’t have to do that if someone would just tell me what happened.”

“What happened is that you two slept together and then Calum ghosted you,” Luke sighs.  “If you want his reasoning, you have to ask him.  I will not be a messenger pigeon for you two.”

“I feel like that metaphor works best only if he’s been asking about me, too,” Michael says.  Luke doesn’t respond right away, a drawn out pause that makes Michael look up from his noodles.  He wishes they were video chatting so he could see what sort of expression Luke is wearing. “Luke, has he asked about me?”

“I’m not doing this with you right now,” Luke says.

“You fucker, he has talked about me!  Do you know why he ghosted me?”

“Stop using me as a go-between!  If you want to know why Calum hasn’t replied to your messages, ask him yourself.  You both need to get your heads out of your asses and communicate.  I can’t believe I’m the one who has to say that.”

Silence descends and Michael pulls his phone away from his ear to see that Luke hung up on him.  Michael huffs.  A second later his phone lights up with an incoming call, a very unattractive picture of Luke staring at him from his screen.  He considers letting it ring out and go to voicemail, but in the end he decides to take the high ground and answer.

“What,” he says flatly.

“Sorry I hung up on you,” Luke says.  “I don’t like being caught between you both.”

“Yeah,” he sighs.  “I don’t like it, either.”

“Will you try to talk to him?  He’ll let you if it’s in person.”

“I guess.”

Luke hums.  They stay on the phone a little longer, small talk filling the silence so Michael doesn’t have to be alone while he eats, but he knows he’s being a bad conversation partner, too distracted by what Calum may or may not have been saying about him to Luke.  When they finally hang up Michael flops back on his bed and groans, wondering if he should just move to Antarctica and change his name rather than put himself through this.

-/-

He manages to go the rest of the night without any indication that Calum is there.  They miss each other in the bathroom, but every sound in the hallway has the hair on his arms standing on end, wondering if it could be Calum or just the settling of the near-empty building.  He sleeps fitfully, tossing and turning on the sub-par dorm mattress, cuddling deeper into his blanket in an attempt to find some much-needed warmth.

The last night he spent with Calum, and the first night they’d spent together in that way, Michael fell asleep warm.  It was almost too hot, sticky under the covers and burning wherever their skin touched, but he loved it.  He’d take the heat over the cold any day, and he hasn’t felt warm since he woke up alone, bed feeling too big without the other boy in it to act as his personal space heater.

That morning the sheets had still smelled like him, but they were cold.  He’d left long before Michael woke up.  Michael’s first morning back feels like a mirror of that day.  Right before he fully wakes up he catches himself reaching for Calum and coming up empty.  When he realizes what he had been doing, he forces himself to get up rather than stay in bed and wallow only because he can’t afford to be late to work on his first day back and he doesn’t trust the roads to be cleared yet.  The college is situated on the outskirts of town, an odd placement that puts a woodsy area to one side and only a few smaller shops next to it.  Michael hadn’t managed to land a job in one of those places, but the family-owned restaurant he works at pays enough to be worth the gas it takes to get there.  He throws on a hoodie and slippers and shuffles to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Calum is already at one of the sinks when he enters.  Michael doesn’t let his eyes stray from his face, refusing to take in the tan shoulders and torso or the drops of water glistening against him, leading down to the towel wrapped around his hips.  He has a toothbrush in his mouth, foam gathering at the corners of his lips, lips that Michael has--

No.  He can’t think about this now.

“Morning,” he says, clearing his throat to get it to work properly.

“Morning,” Calum replies around his toothbrush, consonants muffled.  He spits into the sink and Michael makes himself focus on his own morning routine, meticulously putting toothpaste on his own brush and hoping it’s not obvious that even glancing at Calum is dangerous for him right now.

Neither of them try to say anything more, and Michael wonders if the silence is hanging as heavily in the air for Calum as it is for him.  Before break, silences between them were the only types of silences Michael could stand.  He’s fidgety by nature and gets uncomfortable without background noise, but Calum always managed to temper that a bit.  Being around him settles something inside, something that right now makes Michael want to scream.

He’s about to try to break the silence when Calum picks up his bathroom caddy and leaves without so much as a glance his way.  Michael tries not to let it bother him, but he misses the weight of his gaze.  Calum used to look at him fondly, filled with enough affection that Michael could feel it in his heart.  He doesn’t understand why that would have to change now.

By the time Michael goes to start his car for work, Calum has set himself up in the lounge again, laptop open in front of him.  He’s turned on the fireplace, something that Michael thinks they're not technically supposed to do but that he’s certainly not going to call him on, and he doesn’t look up when Michael comes down the stairs.  Michael lingers by the doorway longer than he should.

They’ve spent a lot of time in this room, whether doing homework on the couch, trying to play duets on the piano in the corner, or hogging the chess set by the window, figuring out how to play and passing the time.

The chess board is set up for a fresh game.  In a naive fit of hope Michael walks over to it and moves one of the pawns forward.  Calum doesn’t glance up from his computer, but he’s still in a way that means he knows what Michael is doing.

On his way out he thinks he hears someone say drive safe, but the howling of the wind is already filling his ears and he can’t be sure.

-/-

Michael gets sent home early because of the snow.  He fights it all the way there, pulling in late because he had to move so slow, and halfway through his shift the manager calls it, deciding to close up for the day.  Right after he clocks out Michael gets a notification on his phone for a severe blizzard alert, and he steels himself to face it before leaving behind the warmth of the restaurant.  Outside the world is covered in a thick sheet of white, plows not able to keep up with the large flakes still falling from the sky, and Michael wills his car to survive the drive, windshield wipers going furiously in an attempt to keep him seeing as much as he can.  The drive takes three times longer than usual, and when he finally spots his dorm through the snow it comes with a sigh of relief.

Calum is still in the lounge when he comes inside and stomps his feet to get some feeling back into them.  With the snow came a biting wind, and even after barely being outside he feels frozen.

“I was getting worried,” Calum says, startling him.  “It looks like it’s bad out there.”

“It is,” Michael says, taking off his hat and shaking snow off of it.  He squints at Calum, in a different position and bundled in a blanket now, the big blue one that Mali got him as a grad present.  Michael once again has to push away the urge to cuddle up to him.

“It’s fucking cold,” he says instead, because it’s true and if he doesn’t make small talk he’s going to blurt something embarrassing like I’ve been thinking about you all the time or why did you leave me or I love you I love you I love you I’m sorry please can we be friends again?

“Going to be a cold night for us, then,” Calum says.  “The heating’s been shit this break.  I don’t think they keep it up as high when there’s only one student here.”

“I’ve had a few cold nights,” Michael snorts before he thinks about it.  “I mean--I’ll use some extra blankets.”

Calum nods once.  He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, then snaps it shut again, looking down at his computer.  It feels like a dismissal, like Michael isn’t worth his time anymore, and it stings.

He should go upstairs, anyway.  He needs to find some blankets of his own.  He glances over the piano and the fireplace, eyes landing on the chess game by the window.

Someone has moved a pawn on the other side.  He glances at Calum, then moves a knight, continuing the game.  He wants to ask Calum to sit down and play a proper round with him, but one glance at Calum’s posture has him biting his tongue.  He’s closed off, blanket wrapped around him securely and face tense, and Michael can’t bring himself to bother him, not when interacting with Michael seems to be the last thing he wants to do.

Michael looks back at the chess set, three pieces out of place, and heads to his room.

-/-

The night comes simultaneously fast and slow in the way that all boring winter nights do.  Michael sits in his room scrolling through social media while the sun sets around him, and when he does eventually get up it’s only so he can make more ramen to eat.  He had lunch at the restaurant and never did get to the grocery store, but he has a few snacks to munch on and if things get really bad he can always see if Calum has anything he’s willing to share.

Calum initiated conversation earlier, so things can’t be too bad between them, right?  It’s still terribly stiff and uncomfortable, but at least he’s not getting the silent treatment anymore.  At least Calum looked at him for a little bit.

He plays video games until he’s too bored to continue, then showers and crawls into bed.  It’s still cold, just like Calum said it would be, but they haven’t lost power yet.  Michael piles on the blankets and pillows, but his sheets are frigid, not yet warmed by his body heat and making him shiver.  After a few minutes of tossing and turning he considers boiling water just to have a warm mug to hold in his hands.

Maybe it’ll be better in the lounge with the fireplace on.  No one’s here to get mad at him for falling asleep on the couch, but then he’d have to haul all of his blankets down there, something that he doesn’t think he has the energy for right now.

He wishes Calum were here.  It feels like all he’s done since getting back to campus is think about Calum, his presence in the building affecting him more than it would have if he was fully alone, but in a pragmatic sense he also really wants a warm body next to him right now.  Two people under the covers are warmer than one, and he’s already put on socks and a hoodie.  Wrapping himself in Calum would keep him warm on a physical level, and maybe it’ll settle him enough that he’ll actually be able to sleep without having weird dreams or waking up every few hours.

He hasn’t even gotten close enough to touch him since getting here.  Before break, he and Calum were always handsy with each other, personal space a myth with the two of them.  It feels wrong to have seen him and not immediately gone in for a hug.

He flops onto his stomach, trying to get comfortable without disturbing the blankets too much, but sleep isn’t coming easy.  When a knock comes on his door, he’s immediately awake and alert.  He wonders if it was a piece of a dream instead, given that there’s only one other person in the building and late night visits did not seem to be an option on the table, but after a few moments someone knocks again.

The light of the hallway is bright after the dark of his room, making him squint at the silhouette of Calum standing before him, wrapped in a blanket like he always seems to be right now.  His hair is messy, no doubt from his own fitful attempt to sleep, and Michael wants to run his fingers through it and put it back to rights.

“Hi,” Michael says.

“I called maintenance about the heat,” Calum says.  “They said they’re having a bit of issue with it and will send someone out, but with the road conditions it could be a little while.  I think they forgot that there were people here.”

“Oh,” Michael says.  “Okay.”

He stares at Calum again, cataloguing how tightly he’s wrapped up and the way he’s chewing on his lips.  Michael waits for him to say what he really came here to.

“It’s really fucking cold, Michael,” Calum blurts finally, a little desperate.

“I know,” Michael says, not sure how to tell Calum that he’d set the world on fire for him if it would help.

“It’d be warmer if we were together.  Like, scientifically speaking.  If we cuddled, it would warm us up a bit.”

“Well, you are the scientist in this duo.  You would know.”  Calum finally meets his eyes, looking up through his eyelashes a little in a way that’s completely unfair.  He’s already got Michael wrapped around his finger, heart skipping a beat at the simple occasion of having his attention again.

He has it so bad that it’s pathetic.

“Is that all?” Michael asks, trying to scrape together some of his dignity.  Calum has been ghosting him for weeks, and a conversation about the bad heating isn’t exactly what Michael wanted from a real conversation with him.  He’s too tired for small talk and much too cold to be standing here when he could be under the covers.

“You’re shivering,” Calum says.  Michael hadn’t noticed the small tremors, but now that Calum pointed them out he can’t ignore them.

“Come on, Mikey,” Calum says, stepping closer.  Michael wants to lean into him and the warmth he promises.  “I promise it’ll be warmer if we cuddle.”

“Do you want to come in?” he asks.  Calum nods, so he steps aside.

Having Calum in his room again when the last time included one of the best and most overwhelming experiences of Michael’s life is weird, to say the least.  It’s like Michael can see two versions of him: the current Calum, wrapped in a blanket and closed off in every conceivable way, and the Calum from that night, laughing at all of Michael’s jokes and spouting off facts about gravity to explain how they kept getting closer and closer.

“See, everything with mass exerts gravity on everything else, except typically it’s not enough to be noticeable compared to the gravity of the Earth.  Your gravitational field must be really strong today.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No, Michael, you idiot.  Stop misinterpreting what I’m saying!”

Calum surveys the room, the safety light reflecting off the snow outside just enough to give him silhouettes to work with.  Michael wonders what he’s remembering.

“How do you want to do this?” Michael asks when the silence has stretched on for too long.  Calum shrugs, so Michael climbs up onto his bed, sliding under the covers and leaving a corner flipped up in invitation.  Calum hesitates, and for a moment Michael thinks he’s going to turn tail and run, but he throws his blanket on top of the covers and joins.  The bed is too small to avoid some awkward elbows and involuntary brushes of clothing, barely big enough for one person, let alone two.  Michael holds his breath while Calum gets somewhat settled, pressed against the wall to give him as much room as possible.

“It’ll be warmer if we’re touching,” Calum whispers, words hitting Michael like a shout with the close proximity and otherwise silence of the room.  If the lights were on, Michael would probably be able to count his eyelashes, but now his face is a combination of different shadows.

“How do you…” Michael trails off.  Calum reaches out first, a cold hand wrapping around his own and pulling him closer.  They end up with Calum on his back and Michael’s head on his shoulder, legs tangled together.  Michael’s sure that Calum can hear how loud his heart is beating, but he can feel Calum’s own beating in a similar pattern so he can’t be too upset about it.  He can hear every inhale and rustle of clothing, can feel the soft cotton of Calum’s shirt against his cheek and smell the faint remains of his soap.

He’s warm.  It’s not the burning heat from their last night together, but it’s almost worse with the gradual way that Michael can feel himself unthaw in his presence, slow enough that he could forget it’s happening only to wake up as an irreparable puddle.

“Okay?” Michael asks, sending flashbacks to the last few times he had asked that question and Calum’s answers: always positive, whether a verbal yes or a nod or a fierce kiss and wandering hands.

“Yeah,” Calum says.  Michael swallows.

Calum starts tracing a design on his back with his finger, barely-felt with Michael still bundled up.  Michael wills himself to stay in the moment rather than slipping into the past or wishing for a different future.

It’s not bad like this.  He gets Calum close at least, receiving that little piece of contact from him that he’s been craving.  If this is the last time they’re like this, he wants to enjoy it if he can.

He shifts, Calum freezing under him for a moment until they both exhale and relax a little more.

Michael closes his eyes and wills himself to sleep.

“Michael?” Calum whispers after a few minutes.  For a moment he considers not answering, sure that anything Calum might think to say in the dark of the night will be something he doesn’t want to hear, but all he’s been asking for the past few weeks is his attention, and it seems vindictive to reject it now.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

Michael should ask for clarification on what, exactly, Calum is apologizing about.  He’s opened the door to this conversation, and Michael should take the opportunity to finally walk through and get their wires straightened out, but he can’t bring himself to do any of that, not like this.  Not when Michael is breathing him in and stealing his warmth and there’s absolutely nothing between them to act as a buffer.

In the dark cuddled up together, Michael can keep pretending that Calum isn’t about to crush him.  As long as he doesn’t ask for clarification, it’s like Schrodinger’s heartbreak: Michael can be both loved and lonely at the same time.

“Can we talk about it tomorrow?” he asks.  “We need to talk about it, but I’m tired.  And cold.  Not tonight.”

“Okay,” Calum says.  Michael waits to see if there’s anything else, but Calum just resumes tracing his secret design on Michael’s back.

Michael closes his eyes and hopes they don’t freeze to death in the night, twin skeletons found tangled together by some unsuspecting third party when the thaw comes.  He’s not sure when he falls asleep and begins to dream, but in his mind Calum presses a kiss to his hair and Michael tries not to let such a simple action break him.

-/-

When he wakes up the bed is cold and empty again.  It shouldn’t be surprising, certainly not after last time.  There was less expectation to stay here, but everything is ugly in the cold light, shattering the fragile balance of the night before.  Michael feels a pit in his stomach, but also a hot flare of anger.

Calum is the one who came begging for his company yesterday after completely ignoring him for weeks.  Calum is the one who left without a trace after Michael showed him he loves him the best way he knows how.  Calum is the one who keeps running away from this, but Michael is the one who keeps getting hurt and that’s not fair.

It’s a little warmer in the building now, the heaters likely getting sorted while they were sleeping, but Michael still grabs a blanket.  No one answers Calum’s door and the bathroom seems to be empty.  He heads downstairs to see if he has set himself up in the lounge again and knows he’s on the right track when he starts to hear piano music drifting softly towards him the more he descends the stairs.

Calum is one of the only people who ever uses the grand piano in the lounge.  It’s slightly out of tune, just enough for Michael himself to notice but for Calum to complain about a lot.  Michael has spent a lot of later nights in the lounge listening to him play, whether he was practicing back when he used to be a music major and take lessons or just playing for fun.  Calum curses a lot when he practices, but Michael has also caught him with his eyes closed and a content smile on his face, letting the music take him away.  Watching him like that, Michael sometimes wonders why Calum switched from music to science, but the rarity of the moments makes them all the more special.

He’s playing a piece that he’s been working on for a while.  Michael tries not to disturb him, walking slowly towards the chess set where another piece has been moved in a continuation of the game.  Calum must have pulled the curtains by the windows up, deep drifts of snow piled against them and sunlight reflecting off the white to set the entire room aglow.  In this setting and with this soundtrack, the morning feels less frosty.

The last note hangs suspended in the air and Michael holds his breath until it dissipates.  Calum sighs, breaking his posture to slump down, and turns to face Michael.

“You’ve gotten better at that one,” Michael says.

“Easier to practice when I don’t have to go to the music hall and no one’s here to use the piano.”

Michael studies him, taking in his rumpled appearance.  He doesn’t look like he’s been up that long, still in the same pants he went to bed in and already folding the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands to keep them warm.

The sweatshirt he’s wearing is one of Michael’s.  His heart flip-flops.

“Did you want to talk now?” Calum asks.

“Yeah,” Michael sighs.  Calum nods once.  He scoots over on the piano bench, making room, and Michael gingerly sits next to him.  After a moment’s hesitation, he offers part of his blanket, nearly sighing in relief when Calum accepts it.

“I’m sorry for how I left, and for not replying to any of your messages,” Calum begins.  “That was a jerk move.”

“It was,” Michael says.  “You’re my best friend, Calum.  If I had known that’s how you’d react, I wouldn’t have--”  He stops, because he doesn’t want to say he regrets sleeping with Calum unless he has to.  It would be a lie.  He’d rather have Calum as a friend than nothing, but the will-we-won’t-we would’ve killed him eventually, and the night itself was amazing right up until Calum left.

“I don’t want to jeopardize that,” he says instead.  “You mean a lot to me.”

Calum presses his lips together.

“Why did you leave?” Michael asks.  “I thought we were on the same page.  I mean… you wanted it, right?  You said you did.  I thought you did.  I didn’t--”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Calum interrupts.  “I did want it.  I really wanted it.  Too much, probably.”

“What does that mean?”

Calum sighs, looking down at his lap and fidgeting with his sleeves again.  Michael wants to know why he’s so nervous.  He wants to grab his hands and hold him steady the way that Calum does for him when he’s freaking out, but that wouldn’t be welcome right now.

“Michael, I can’t do something casual with you.  You’ve said before that you’re not looking for anything serious, but I can’t be friends with benefits, not with you.  Not when I’m in love with you.  It’d tear me apart.”

“What made you think I wanted something casual?” Michael asks.  “Apparently you couldn’t tell, but that night was kind of a big deal for me.  I’m not exactly known for sleeping around.”

“Michael--”

“I’ve been crushing on you since we met, okay?” Michael says, turning to face him more fully.  “I wasn’t looking for something serious with anyone else because I’ve been hung up on you.  That night was one of the best nights of my life, and then you weren’t there in the morning.  I thought I had fucked up.  I thought I had ruined one of the most important relationships in my life.”

“You didn’t,” Calum says, grabbing his hand.  “I should have talked to you instead of running away.  That’s on me.”

“Yeah it is,” Michael sulks.  “Why didn’t you?  Why’d you just assume what I wanted instead of bothering to ask me?  That hurt, Cal.”

“I know.”  Calum grimaces, then shrugs.  “I don’t know.  I thought I knew what you wanted.  Or didn’t want, I guess.  I didn’t consider that you could like me until you kissed me, and you’ve never shown interest in an actual relationship.  I wasn’t ready for you to reject me.”

“But I wasn’t going to,” Michael says.  “You’re you.  You’re the exception.”

“I didn’t know that, though.  We didn’t exactly sit down for a conversation.  Our mouths were otherwise occupied that night, if I remember correctly.”  Michael opens his mouth to protest, then snaps it shut.

He doesn’t remember exactly what he said in the heat of it, but he remembers biting back I love you, knowing it was too early to be throwing that phrase around, no matter how true it was.  Maybe he ended up hiding the sentiment a bit more than he anticipated.

“You still should’ve talked to me,” he says.

“I know,” Calum replies, squeezing his hand.  “I’m sorry.  I’ll do better with that.”

Michael squeezes his hand back.

“So,” he says, “you like me?”

“Yeah,” Calum says.  “A lot.”

“You got that I like you, too, right?  I said that.  I’ve had it bad for you since we met.”  Calum frowns.

“You took a while to warm up to me.  I thought you were still holding a grudge because I spilled your smoothie.”

“No, you had me tongue-tied,” Michael says.  “I had to figure out how to function around you.  You’re really hot and it made me flustered.”

“Shut up,” Calum says.  He’s blushing, crimson staining his cheeks enough for Michael to see, sending a strong thrill of satisfaction through him.

“I’m serious,” he needles.  “You’re ridiculously attractive, dude.  You’re not going to hear the end of it from me now.  I’ve said it once and now there’s nothing to stop me from saying it five times a day.”

Calum laughs and tucks his face into Michael’s shoulder.  Michael feels his own happiness bubble up inside him, threatening to burst.  He brings Calum’s hand up to his lips and kisses the back of it in an attempt to release some of the pressure.

“Are we boyfriends now?” Calum asks.

“Fuck yeah,” Michael says.  “Unless you don’t want to be, but that’d be lame.”

“I want to be,” Calum says quickly.

“Good,” Michael says.  “Then we are.”

“Good.”

They sit for a while, and this silence feels comfortable again, like their old ones.  Michal could stay suspended in this moment like the final note of Calum’s piano song and feel content with it rather than uncomfortable.  That more than anything lets him know they’ll be okay.

“I’m cold,” Calum says eventually.

“We should move by the fire.”

“We should eat breakfast,” Calum counters.  Michael hums and gives Calum’s neck an exaggerated sniff, making him squirm and giggle again.

“You should shower,” he says.

“Fuck you.  That’s rude.”

“I could join you?” Michael offers.

“These showers are not big enough for two people,” Calum says.  “Nice try, though.”

He stands and kisses Michael on the forehead, tucking the blanket back around him.

“Can I kiss you properly?” Michael asks.  Calum nods and leans down again, the gentle press of his lips both familiar and thrilling, sweeter in the morning light.

“Breakfast, then I’m going to shower alone, then I think we have a chess game to finish.”

“Or we could make out all day while we have the lounge to ourselves.”  Calum considers him, tilting his head and giving a wry smile.

“We can do that if you win the chess match.”

“Deal,” Michael says.  It’s an easy bargain, because Michael is better at chess than Calum is, and with that prize on the line nothing’s going to distract him.

“Breakfast,” Calum repeats, tugging on his hands until he’s standing, too.  Michael leans forward and kisses him again, just because he can now.  Calum beams and leads him to the stairs, Michael tripping over his blanket and Calum’s laugh filling the room.

It could just be the heating kicking in more, but Michael isn’t sure he needs the blanket right now, not when Calum is here warming him from the inside out.

[khuns]

who else is there to love but you; a khunbaam au

He tastes like Baam has always thought of and more, lips slotting into Baam’s the way he has slotted himself into the space between Baam’s heartbeats, and Baam isn’t sure if he ever wants Khun to pull away.

“Come on, Baam, it’s our graduation. It’s the last time any of us are gonna have time to travel before we settle into jobs and fall victim to the monotony of everyday li-“

A snort crackles through the speaker, and Hatz’s voice rings clear, “Speak for yourself, Isu. Some of us still can’t find jobs-“

A jostle over the phone, then: “-anyway, as I was saying, it’s just one last hurrah before we officially start adulting. Please just say yes, Baam, nearly everyone else has agreed-“

Baam sighs and sets down his pencil. It’s literally the week of finals; every time he rubs his eyes he sees syntax trees tattooed on the inside of his eyelids. How does Isu expect him to make big decisions when his entire brain is clouded with theta roles?

He opens his mouth, about to ask Isu to please just ask him when he gets back to their dorm room because his brain really can’t handle thinking about budgeting and accommodations, but Isu’s sly voice beats him to the punch. “Khun’s coming.”

Baam lets his head drop into his hands and groans.

Damn Shibisu.

-

The first time Baam meets Khun, Baam is splayed out on his stomach on Hatz’s kitchen floor, honey dripping from his hair.

The laughter on his tongue dies out; Isu stops flinging flour at where Hatz is crouched, taking cover.

Baam watches in dismay as the most beautiful man he’s ever seen in his life stands at Hatz’s doorway, mouth pressed into a thin line and eyes as hard as flint. The man’s fingers are still curled around the door handle as he surveys the mess before a clipped, “Hatz.”

He feels Hatz tensing up from where he’s knelt beside Baam, hands braced against the fine dusting of flour on the floor.

“I’ll make sure the kitchen is spotless,” Hatz bites out, tone frosty.

Baam’s eyes meet the man’s through a slow tangle of honey, and he can’t help the shiver that runs down his spine. Even backlit and haloed in the artificial hallway light, he reminds Baam of someone royal, hair pulled away from cheekbones high and regal and bangs barely covering eyes cool as glass.

An eternity stretches before the man breaks eye contact with him and makes out a curt nod, “Make sure you do.”

And then he’s gone, door locking behind him with a neat click.

Isu is the first to break the silence- “Fuck, Hatz, when you called to tell me your new roommate was an ass you didn’t say he was a beautiful one-“

“Shut the fuck up, he’s a royal pain in the ass, that’s why I called you to come over- “

“His eyes, Hatz, did you see them-“

“I hardly feel the need to look into the eyes of someone who pisses me off from day one-“

“You ask me to come over and make cookies for you, but you just neglect to mention how beautiful-“

“You saw for yourself, he’s so fucking pretentious - look, Isu, if you’ve done quite enough salivating over my arse of a roommate, do you mind helping your poor roommate up?”

Isu squeaks and slides through the flour to Baam’s side, “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Baam says. “Yeah, no, I’m alright.”

As Isu helps Baam pick himself off the floor and sends him into the bathroom to rinse out his hair, all Baam can think about is the man’s cool blue eyes and the way the image keeps sending his heart back up his throat.

-

It’s ten in the morning after his last final and Baam barely has time to stuff his duffel in the trunk when Rak calls shotgun.

It sets off a squabble between Hatz and Isu about who should drive and devolves into an argument over whether Rak can navigate (he cannot) and when Isu will even let anyone else drive his precious car (never).

There is a soft huff of amusement from where Khun is leaning on the side of the car, hands fiddling through what looks like a GPS, and Khun looks up at Baam, grinning. “We’ll never set off at this rate.”

“We’ll have to spend the first night back in our dorms and leave tomorrow instead,” Baam returns, biting back a smile. Khun laughs at that, his eyes sparkling through his bangs and curved into crescent moons, and Baam has to tamp down a familiar flare in his chest.

Keep it under control, he tells himself. It’s just a weeklong road trip, after which Khun will move somewhere in the big city for a job at his father’s company and Baam will move back home, despairing over what little job prospects a linguistics major brings. Useless crushes are just that, useless.

He watches as Khun pushes off from the side of the car and tosses the GPS to Isu. “Keyed in a place for lunch,” Khun grins as Isu squawks and fumbles to catch it, “Now you won’t need either of those two idiots up front.”

Hatz splutters indignantly and the rest of them just laugh, scrambling to get into the car so they can finally, finally get on their way and maybe get a decent cup of coffee.

(Rak, much to his disgruntlement, is relegated to the backseat, sandwiched between Khun and Baam.)

-

The second time Baam meets Khun, Baam neither is on the floor nor has any sticky substance in his hair (thankfully).

He knocks on Hatz’s door, ready to deliver Hatz’s notebook from where Hatz left it in Baam and Isu’s dorm room during an earlier study session.

(A ‘study session’, Baam has learnt, is just an excuse for Isu to bother his best friend into coming over to their room so they can talk about everything other than homework. Not that Baam minds, of course - conversations between Hatz and Isu flow like water, stories from their shared childhood spilling out as they try their best to embarrass each other in front of Baam.)

There’s a click as the door unlocks and Baam’s mouth opens, ready to remind Hatz that even though they only live just a few floors above him, it’s best not to leave his Physics notes behind ever again for Isu to doodle senselessly on, but when the door swings open, it’s Blue Eyes.

Oh.

“Looking for Hatz?” The man prompts, after a beat of silence. “He’s in the shower.”

Baam flushes and makes the conscious effort to shut his jaw. He holds Hatz’s notes out to Blue Eyes, “Hatz left this in my room earlier, could I leave this with you please?”

Blue Eyes raises an eyebrow at the dick drawn in Sharpie on Hatz’s notebook cover. He looks back up at Baam.

“It wasn’t me,” Baam blurts, suddenly anxious to inform Blue Eyes that no, he wasn’t the one childish enough to draw dicks onto other people’s notes. “My roommate and Hatz, they’re pretty close, I guess it’s their thing-“

He’s not sure why words are just tumbling out of his mouth, but Blue Eyes just snorts, corner of his mouth turning up in amusement. He takes the notebook from Baam and nods, “I’ll leave it on his desk.”

“Thank you...” Baam trails off, because for the life of him he absolutely cannot remember what Hatz has called his roommate other than ‘The Royal Ass’ and ‘That Fucking Asshole’. Neither of which, Baam is sure, Blue Eyes would like to be called.

“Thank you,” he manages, and turns to hightail it out of there before he embarrasses himself for the third time in a night.

“Hold on,” Blue Eyes says, and he waits until Baam fully turns back around to meet his gaze. “Who should I say left this for him?”

“I’m Baam.” Baam pauses, then tacks on, “From the twenty-fifth floor.”

“Alright, Baam-from-the-twenty-fifth-floor,” Blue Eyes says, and grins. “I’m Khun.”

Khun, Baam repeats all the way back up to his room, Khun. He tucks the name into the pocket of his cheek the way a child savours hard candy - Khun. Khun, Khun, Khun.

(Baam makes it all the way to the lift lobby before he realises that Khun has in fact cracked a dad joke, and when he tells Isu this Isu can’t seem to stop cackling.)

-

They stop for lunch at a cute diner at the edge of the city. The lights are dim and the booth seats are cracked, stuffing leaking out from where legs have over the years worn the leather down, but the food is warm and the coffee is strong and that’s all that matters.

“More coffee?” The sole waiter nudges Isu’s coffee cup with the jug.

Isu nods. Might as well, if he’s going to be driving for the rest of the day.

He takes a sip and leans back. Rak and Khun are arguing over routes, phones opened to Google Maps and fingers jabbing at the highways. Baam is listening intently to the road talk, slowly pulling the pickles out from his sandwich and setting them in a pile on the edge of his plate, ready for Khun to pick at later.

Isu smiles softly to himself as Rak leans over him to holler at Hatz. He’s glad they cobbled together this trip - it seems the perfect way to end four years of living together before they disperse and are only able to meet on weekends, or worse, every couple of months.

He’ll miss them, of course - if there’s one thing the university did right, it was their random roommate pairings freshman year. Isu’s heard horror stories of roommates going out partying and coming back to puke on rugs, but Baam clicked with him on all sorts of levels, from cleanliness to sleep schedules to taste in films, and it was only natural they applied to continue living together all four years.

And Hatz, despite his deep loathing of Khun during their first month rooming together, quickly warmed up to him too; they were both quiet and studious, were complete night owls and were quite alright with Isu coming to blabber their ears off every once in a while.

(Hatz also strenuously denies this, but after The Physics Lab Incident halfway through the first semester freshman year, Isu is pretty sure Hatz would follow Khun to the ends of the earth and back. And Hatz’s loyalty is hard-earned; he would know.)

Rak was a lucky happenstance in their second year, a constantly sexiled sophomore from across the hallway who more often than not ended up sleeping on their couch. When Isu found out Rak could make a mean beef stew, well? Isu adopted him into their little family straight away.

“What do you guys think?” Khun turns to his left, spearing a pickle off of Baam’s plate. Baam hums his approval and Isu shrugs. He hasn’t really been listening, but he trusts that Khun’s come up with a good route. If anything was weird, Rak and Baam would have pointed it out anyway.

“Doesn’t matter to me where we go,” Hatz says around a full mouth of fries, “As long as we make it to the hotel tonight.”

“Alright then,” Isu says, brushing crumbs off his shirt, “Where has the Great Rak and Khun planned to bring us next?”

“The Museum of Turtles.”

Rak is grinning so broadly Isu can’t help himself - he laughs.

-

The third time Baam meets Khun, it’s for dinner with Hatz and Isu.

They’re crowded around a table heavy with pizza Hatz must have grabbed on the way back from class. It’s somewhat towards the middle of their first semester - Khun and Hatz must be getting pretty close if Hatz has invited him to eat with them. So much for Hatz’s obstinate declaration that he’d never be friends with someone “that stuck-up”.

“-completely winded because as I said, I fell on my fucking back, and the crazy girl goes, “Oh my god, you’re looking up my skirt!” Like, I’m the one you knocked over literally half a second ago and you’re accusing me of looking at your ugly ass?! How fucking ridiculous is that?” Hatz waves his slice of pizza in the air, pepperoni somehow clinging to the cheese by sheer force of will.

Baam winces in sympathy. He’s not sure what he would have done in Hatz’s place. Maybe die.

“Then Khun - bless Khun - leans over from his bench and says- oh man, I think you better tell this part-“

Khun huffs and wipes his mouth. He sets his half-eaten slice back down, eyes sparkling with mirth, and continues, “So I’m quietly working on this stupid Physics lab sheet when I hear this idiot fall flat on his ass behind me and when I turn around to laugh at him-“

There’s something that resembles a protest from Hatz but it’s covered by Isu’s guffaw.

“-his lab partner looks like she’s about to scream bloody murder to the whole class so I lean over and - see, ordinarily I’d just laugh at Hatz and turn back but this was the girl who looks down on Hatz because she saw that his textbook was second-hand, and more importantly, she insulted my earrings once-“

“Your earrings! How dare she!” Isu is cackling even louder.

“Right?” Khun smirks, and Baam thinks his heart skips a beat, “Anyway, I lean over and I go, “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve fallen again,” and Hatz is on the floor looking at me like I’m some kind of fool instead of his damn roommate trying to get him out of trouble, so I have to tack on, “Sorry, my boyfriend is such a klutz, he’s always bumping into things. And don’t worry about him looking anywhere at you, he’s not interested.” The look on both their faces, priceless-“

“Boyfriend!” Isu howls, pounding the table, “Straight-as-an-arrow Hatz! Boyfriend!”

Hatz grins, “Whatever, you idiot, you missed the best part - then Khun says to her, “Not that there’s much to see anyway!” Oh man, her face must have been some seven shades of purple-” This sets all of them off and as their laughter dies down Baam is pretty sure if he laughs anymore his cheeks might just split in half.

But through his bangs he sees Khun looking, looking at him, and he instantly flushes. He reaches for another slice of pizza, just for his hands to have something to do, but he brushes against something cool and sees Khun retracting his own hand. Khun gestures for him to go ahead, eyes fixed on him.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, then as an afterthought, “Thanks.”

Khun’s smile is absolutely blinding.

-

Baam hums happily, flicking through photos from the museum exhibit. They were nearly kicked out for being completely obnoxious, yes, but he got the absolute best photos and he knows Isu has more.

“We’re nearly there,” Rak says from where he’s finally wrangled shotgun. Sure enough, Isu turns into the gravel driveway of a small hotel.

Hatz is the first to tumble out of the car, stretching and nearly knocking Baam in the face. It’s been quite a ride from the museum to the hotel, including a boisterous karaoke session, and Baam can’t wait to check in and dump their stuff so they can grab dinner.

“Bad news, y’all,” Isu says, not even ten minutes later. “They have two rooms, but they’re all big beds instead of those individual ones. Hatz and I can take one - we shared beds during sleepovers - but two of y’all have to take a bed and someone has to take the cot.”

Rak, of course, lays claim on the cot instantly. “I kick in my sleep,” he points out, and everyone groans. He does.

Baam nods, but realises with a sinking feeling-

“That leaves Baam with Khun, then,” Isu says, satisfied. He shoots Baam a barely-veiled triumphant look as he hands him a key card and Baam can’t help but flush. This is a terrible, terrible idea, and Isu is a terrible, terrible friend.

He nearly groans in despair when they finally head to the rooms - even with the bed taking up most of the space, it looks barely big enough for two.

Khun clears his throat.

“I can take the floor,” Baam blurts. He doesn’t want to make Khun uncomfortable. With his luck, there’d be some sort of accident in the night and... he’d rather just take the floor and nap in the car tomorrow.

Khun glances sharply at him. “Don’t be silly, you’re going to ache all over tomorrow. We’ll just, you know, set boundaries.”

Baam thinks about the photo Isu once took of him starfishing all over his own bed and clinging to his pillow like a lifeline. Boundaries. “Um,” he says. “Um.”

“Fantastic.” Khun says, already dropping his duffel on one side of the bed.

Fantastic.

--

Khun eventually loses track of the number of times he meets Baam. It seems like he’s always there whenever Isu comes downstairs to go bother Hatz, or whenever Hatz pulls them all outside for dinner.

(Not that Khun minds, of course - Baam is... interesting. Khun refuses to explore why.)

He ends up seeing Baam outside of the dorm too, sometimes waving to each other across the street between classes. It’s not until Hatz pulls all their schedules together to find a time to go cake-shopping for Isu’s birthday that Khun realises they share a lunch time most days.

Baam volunteers to get the cake the day before Isu’s birthday, since Hatz has classes until late. Which doesn’t quite make sense to Khun, since they agreed on hiding the cake from Isu in Hatz’s and Khun’s room anyway, so he makes an executive decision to join him.

He leans against the wall, picking at his nails, until he hears shuffling from inside the classroom. A few minutes later, Baam emerges from his Phonology class,  scarf tucked messily around his neck.

He raises his hand in a half-wave, and waits for Baam to make his way over.

“Heard from Hatz you’re going to pick Isu’s cake out and thought I’d come with,” Khun says in lieu of greeting, and Baam beams at him.

“Great! We can put it in your fridge right after.”

“Exactly why I came,” Khun returns easily, but it seems like the wrong thing to say - the light in Baam’s eyes shutters a little, but before Khun can think about what he said, Baam’s hitched his backpack a little higher and takes the lead out of the linguistics building, waving goodbye at the security guard.

Huh.

He scrambles to catch up, long legs bringing him back up to speed with Baam easily. “I’m thinking chocolate?”

“Isu only ever eats chocolate cake,” Baam informs him, and flashes him a smile. “The only time I ever get to eat a full slice is when I get strawberry or some other fruit flavour.”

“Strawberry? Good taste,” Khun offers, and Baam’s beam returns.

If Khun waits by the exit of Baam’s phonology class the next week just to see that beam again, well, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

-

Time melts into months, and Khun and Baam’s weekly lunches melt into nearly daily lunches.

Sometimes Khun stops by the linguistics building to wait for Baam to end class; sometimes Baam finds himself waiting outside their agreed-upon dining hall before Khun shows up, waving goodbye to one friend or another.

Khun’s relatively popular, Baam thinks, until Khun corrects him one day with a, “No, it’s just that business majors have to network a lot. I expect we’ll either end up being employed by each other or buying up each other’s businesses ten years down the road.” He laughs at the mildly terrified look on Baam’s face.

Baam tells Khun about the calculus class he’s been forced to take for his math requirement, and Khun gripes about having to take a Physics class to fulfill his science requirements even though he’s a business major. Conversation flows easier than Baam expects, and the more he talks to Khun the smoother it flows.

He learns about how Khun is a business major because he’s expected to take over the family business. He learns about how Khun is interested in a Computer Science minor because he’s convinced the future of the world lies in tech, and Khun learns how Baam might be taking a Psychology minor because he just wants to learn more about the people around him.

Baam learns how Khun talks with his hands, long fingers swirling and jabbing as he maunders around his point. He learns how Khun’s laughs runs from derisive chuckles to laughter as bright as moonlight on icicles. He learns how Khun would rather carry around a hair tie than have to go to the barber’s every two months, and Khun learns, after an incident where his hair tie snaps and he can’t lean forward without getting hair in his soup, that Baam has taken to carrying a spare one around for him.

Baam learns how Khun takes his iced coffee with milk but no sugar, and Khun learns about how Baam’s favourite boba order is lychee green tea. Baam learns about the way Khun doesn’t really believe in dating for fun, not since he watched his sister run away from home with a boy and come back, badly bruised and begging to be loved again as though her family would have ever given up on her the same way that boy did. And Khun learns Baam is a hopeless romantic, and laughs at the way Baam flushes while admitting he believes in love at first sight.

They talk and talk, and as November melts away and Khun introduces Baam to someone as his best friend, Baam grins and feels as though he’s known Khun all his life.

(“It seems as though,” Isu remarks to Hatz one day, “instead of Khun-and-Hatz and Isu-and-Baam, we’ve become Isu-and-Hatz and Khun-and-Baam.”

Hatz throws a pen at his head. “We’ve always been Hatz-and-Isu, you fool. Ever since I saved you on the playground-“

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you swapped the order of our names, you bitch!“)

-

They’re settling in for the night, Hatz and Isu on the bed and Rak on the fold-out cot.

Rak is tapping away on his phone, setting his multitude of alarms for the next morning, but Hatz doesn’t bother. He’s sure Isu will shake him awake somehow.

He wrestles a good amount of blanket away from Isu’s octopus grasp, and gets ready to close his eyes when Isu suddenly says, “We really need an intervention.”

Hatz frowns. Did he take too much blanket?

“About Khun and Baam.”

Oh. Isu kicks all the covers off in his sleep anyway.

“Khun prides himself on how perceptive he is,” Isu is saying, “But it’s really stupid how he hasn’t cottoned on about Baam.”

Rak bursts out laughing. “We’ve has this conversation before, yes.”

“It’s so slow burn it feels like one of those frog-in-hot-water kind of stories, you know? One of them makes a move, but the other thinks it’s just bros being bros, one of them slips up but the other blames it on fucking Mercury in retrograde or whatever-“

Hatz snorts, “Pretty sure neither of them believe in astrology-“

“Point is, they practically orbit around each other and everyone, everyone, sees that but them. I mean, have you seen the way Baam picks food he doesn’t like off of his meals and Khun just straight up swipes it off of his plate, no questions? Who does that? Every time I swipe food from Rak he threatens to kill me-“

“It’s because you swipe the food I like, you stupid turtle-“

“Anyway, I pointed it out to Baam once and you know what he said? You know what he said?” Isu rubs his hand across his face. “He blinked and said he didn’t even notice! He doesn’t even remember when they started doing it! Khun does the exact same thing and you know how he hates people touching his food! I tried picking carrots off of Khun’s plate last month because I know he always sets his carrots aside and he fucking hit me so hard with his fork I bruised!”

Hatz hears the slight whine in Isu’s voice and finds himself suddenly unable to hold bubbles of laughter in. It’s ridiculous, it really is, four years of Khun being the absolute softest for Baam and Baam not noticing, and he hears Rak’s low rumble of laughter from Isu’s other side.

“The worst thing,” Isu says over their laughter, “is that you know Khun’s the type of person to not do anything if it might put his friendships in danger. Bet you he thinks Baam doesn’t like him like that.” That sobers them up pretty quickly.

“And you know what the absolute kicker is?” Isu’s voice is quieter now, as Hatz’s and Rak’s laughter die down. “Baam won’t do anything about it because - and I know this for a fact - the fool thinks the same.”

Rak groans and rolls over. “We really need to do something before everyone moves home, huh.”

“Damn right we do.”

(They don’t manage to figure out any sort of concrete plan before Rak drops asleep, but Hatz and Isu agree in the vaguest sort of way that Something Must Be Done, Even If We Don’t Know What.)

-

When their very first set of finals are over, Isu insists on dragging everyone out for drinks.

They find themselves in a small, dimly-lit pub a short walk away from their dorm, teeming with college students temporarily freed from the shackles and chains of higher education. It’s loud and it feels like there are too many people than there should be on a snowy weekday night, but Isu snags them a table and leaves them there to guard it while he goes to grab their first round.

Khun leans across the table, “How were your finals?”

“Glad they’re over,” Hatz says, unwinding his scarf. “I never want to see a physics formula again. How were yours?”

Khun shrugs. “Same about that physics requirement, I suppose. But we’re taking statistics together next semester, right?”

Baam looks up. “Which professor? I’m taking statistics too.” He’d like to take a class with friends, he thinks, and a small flame blooms in his chest at the thought. Friends.

Cheesy as it is, he’s glad he’s come out of his freshman semester with a group of friends to call his own.

“-Yoo, I think,” Hatz is saying, “The Monday and Wednesday morning one.”

“Neat,” Baam grins. “The three of us can study together then?”

“I leave to get drinks and you’re already plotting to take a class without me?” Isu plops a tray down on their table, sounding more amused than affronted.

“You’re the engineering major,” Hatz points out, but Isu waves him away.

“Enough school talk,” Isu says, and raises an eyebrow. “Let’s talk about more fun things.”

Isu’s idea of fun things, apparently, includes a list of get-to-know-you questions, and he grills each and every one of them as if he’s about to have a final on the details of his friends’ lives.

“-past relationships in three words, go.”

Hatz winces, “She… wanted… fencer?“ Isu groans at Hatz’s poor summary, then gestures for Baam.

“Um,” Baam says. “She… wanted better.” Not technically true, he thinks, but that’s as clean as he can get to describing Rachel without prying open a can of worms he had trouble closing in the first place.

Isu pats his hand in sympathy, “One of those, huh? One of my exes dumped me because he had his sights on something higher too. I’ll go for the other one then… his gay experiment.”

Hatz hisses at that, and drains the rest of his beer. “Deserved every last punch I gave him.”

Isu laughs, light and hollow and carefully wiped of emotion, and the sound, emptier than the thud of Hatz’s glass on the table, rings in Baam’s ears. He’s glad Hatz was there to dole out the hits all those years ago, because tipsy on three whole glasses of beers, he’s ready to go out and start a new fight himself.

Isu gestures for Khun’s turn, but Khun’s eyes are on Baam. His gaze has a sort of scrutinising air, as though he’s trying to figure something out, and Baam feels his scowl disappear and a tremble run under his skin.

“I don’t believe in dating,” Khun says, after a measure of silence, and Baam’s heart gives a soft thud from where it has sunk somewhere near the floor.

He isn’t sure why he’s disappointed; he’s known about it ever since Khun told him about his sister, of course, and he’s not even sure what he’s hoping for - they’re great friends and it’s already more than Baam could ask for. Khun is kind and smart and pays attention to the people around him and he has a sort of determined dedication that Baam has never quite figured out how to instil in himself. And even if Khun was up for dating, Baam thinks, he’d be too many leagues above Baam; just in the time they’ve been sat down, there have been countless looks thrown at their table, soft giggles about the boy with the messy blue ponytail and eyes like sapphires, quiet and not-so-quiet whispers daring each other to go up and talk to him.

None of them have, though. It’s just something about the way Khun’s eyes have never wandered from their table that has kept everyone away.

“-couldn’t press charges against him,” Khun is saying. The napkin between his fingers has been torn to shreds, and Baam wants nothing more than to be able to curl his hand around Khun’s in comfort without the tug in his heart begging for more.

He keeps his hands to himself.

“Well, I thought I was the most miserable story, but fuck,” Isu says, and stands up. “I’m going to get another round.”

He comes back with a tray full of soju bottles, and they end up drinking all the way through Isu’s list of silly questions.

They learn that Hatz would name his hypothetical bunny General McHoppers, and that Khun would rather fight a duck-sized horse than a horse-sized duck. Baam can’t remember if they decided on hot dogs being tacos or sandwiches on their way out of the pub, but somewhere along the way his gloves have been fumbled onto his hands and his beanie jammed onto his head.

Isu has his arm around Hatz, talking a mile a minute about how the flat earth theory could theoretically be true while Hatz is struggling to support his weight. Baam could laugh at the way Isu’s stumbling, but come to think of it, he isn’t so sure about the structural integrity of his own legs.

He feels an arm slide around his waist and a laugh, low and breathy in his ear. He shivers at the sound and the way it feels so achingly close he could just turn and- he decides to blame it on the wind chill.

“You’re a lightweight,” Khun accuses. There’s a ribbon of a laugh in his voice and Baam mutters out a stubborn, “I’m not,” that goes unheeded.

“So when are you coming back?” Khun asks, voice light and conversational. “We can probably do something together before winter break is over and the next semester starts.”

Baam squints at him, as though it will make Khun’s voice amplify through the cotton wool of his brain. “Mm not leaving for break,” he says carefully. “Staying here.”

Maybe taking phonology was a good idea, Baam thinks. Makes his enunciation clearer and all that. Maybe Khun will stop thinking he’s drunk and unhand him.

Khun just snorts, and if anything, his hold on Baam gets tighter. His voice is tinged with amusement as he leans closer, lips brushing Baam’s ear. “You are drunk,” Khun informs him, “and you’re saying all your thoughts out loud.”

Baam flushes and immediately clams up. That’s enough thinking and thoughts for tonight, he decides, and is rewarded with a silver peal of Khun’s laughter.

-

Khun tosses and turns.

There’s no reason why he can’t sleep - the curtains are drawn and Baam’s breathing is even and quiet. He can only imagine the storm coming from Rak just next door.

Khun groans quietly. This is the worst time for his insomnia to act up - they’re planning to go to an amusement park tomorrow and damn if he’s going to be tired through all the fun.

He gropes blindly about until he finds his phone. Isu and Baam sent photos from the museum earlier; he might as well use this time to go through them and save them.

He thumbs through them quickly. Most of them are shots of Rak staring open-mouthed at the exhibits, but there are some silly shots of them looking absolutely ridiculous.

There’s a mirror shot with all of them crouching in front of four huge turtle shells, with Rak standing in the middle, cackling his head off about them finally being “turtles”. Isu’s holding the phone and yelling at them to stop squirming and to please align themselves so they all show up at the correct angle in the mirror or god so help me, my arms are gonna fucking fall off. The photo is slightly blurry with his efforts and Khun can almost hear Hatz’s helpless giggles ringing through the photo.

His thumb stills.

Picture-Baam’s arm is half-raised, fingers coming up to brush away his bangs, and picture-Khun’s arm is slung over his shoulders. PIcture-Baam’s eyes are crinkled up, mid-laugh, smile bright and golden as sunflowers and not quite as radiant as Khun knows it is in real life, but radiant all the same.

And picture-Khun is looking at him, smile soft and head slightly bowed, eyes brimming an emotion Khun does not yet know how to describe.

His thumb swipes to save the photo before he realises it, and there is a flash of an idea about setting it as his wallpaper before he is distracted by a sleepy snuffle. By the light of his phone he sees Baam spread out on his side of the bed, face-down on his pillow.

Khun frowns. There’s no way that’s good for respiration.

He reaches over and gently tugs on the pillow, enough so that Baam has to shifts his head to accommodate for the change but not enough that it wakes him up. He waits until Baam resettles, head tilted and eyelashes brushing his cheek. His mouth is slightly open, lips soft and parted, and Khun is dimly aware of the urge to brush Baam’s hair away from where it is falling across his face.

Beautiful.

The word springs, unbidden, to his mind and he freezes.

Baam. Baam, with the biggest heart of anyone he knows. Baam, with his thoughtful smile and easy laugh and the quiet way in which he lights up the room.

Baam, with the way he finishes Khun’s sentences and laughs at all of Khun’s stupid puns, with the way he understands Khun without either of them having to exchange a word, with the way his loyalty to his friends is fierce and burns with the heat of a thousand suns. Baam, with the way he fits, just right, into Khun’s side, like two hands made to hold.

Baam, with all his kindness and his constancy and his optimism and all of his warmth.

Baam, his best friend.

Khun breathes out shakily, puts his phone down, knots his fingers together, and wills himself to go to sleep.

--

Baam yanks his chair out from his desk. He’s sopping wet and his bangs keep dripping in his eyes and his goddamn bag is soaked and he feels that awful discomfort of clothes sticking to his skin and really, all he wants to do is take a warm shower and curl into his bed and forget this day ever happened.

“Your mood,” Isu remarks from his bed, “seems to be absolutely foul.”

“You think?” Baam snarls.

Isu blinks, then shuts his laptop. “Wanna talk about it?”

Got caught in the rain, he wants to say. Got called out in class to answer a question about the reading I didn’t do. Got leered at by some creep on the street. But everything is stuck on the top of his tongue, dwarfed by a bigger truth threatening to slip out.

Got stood up for lunch by Khun again.

“Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here to listen,” Isu says, voice soft and gaze even softer.

Just like that, Baam feels the angry knot in his chest loosen, gently unwound by the unquestioning kindness in Isu’s voice. He lets his backpack tumble to his chair, then sinks, wet clothes and all, onto the floor.

He opens his mouth, intending to apologise for snapping at Isu, but all that slips out is a sob.

Immediately Isu is on his knees, hugging him tight and cradling Baam’s head. Baam tries to bat him off, tries to say through a nose full of snot, I’m getting your clothes drenched with rainwater, but Isu just swipes Baam’s bangs away from his forehead and hugs him again.

“Go take a warm shower,” Isu says, “I’ll make tea, and you can tell me what happened.”

Baam nods, and Isu herds him off the floor and into their bathroom.

He tries to get his shit together in the shower, and emerges ten minutes later, red-eyed and sniffly-nosed, to Isu’s promised cup of tea. It takes five minutes for him to gloss through the shit-show that was class, then another five for him to meander around the topic of Khun.

Isu leans back, finally. “You were meant to meet Khun for lunch, but he stood you up and you’re upset because it’s the second time this week he’s done it without warning.”

“I mean... yes, but now that you put it like that, it sounds like such a stupid reason to be upset, I sound so stupidly clingy-“ Baam falters.

“Do you know why he didn’t show up?”

Baam looks down at the chip in his mug. It fits the shape of his fingernail exactly, almost as if he could have, at one point, dug his fingernails in so deep he chipped the mug himself.

“Yeah,” Baam says at last, “He was meeting his partner for their marketing project.”

“The marketing genius? The one he’s been nattering on about for the past two weeks?”

Baam swallows the bitter taste in his mouth that really has no reason to be there. There’s an uncomfortable knot in his throat, and he sighs. “The first time, I waited twenty minutes before I called and he picked up and apologised for losing track of time because he was talking to her. Which is fine, you know, we all do it.”

“And this time?”

“Called a couple times but he didn’t even pick up the phone. And it was raining, so I thought he might have been trying to wait out the rain and lost battery or something, or maybe something important popped up, so I ran through the rain to the business building to look for him, but he was just standing in the lobby of the building talking to his project partner and laughing with her and-“ Suddenly there’s a lump in his throat that he can’t speak around, and he falls silent.

It’s so stupid, he thinks. He’s acting like a spoilt child, crying because he doesn’t have someone’s undivided attention. It’s so, so stupid that he thought he had a monopoly on Khun’s time, that he thought he was so important that-

“It sounds,” Isu says carefully, “like you’re upset that he didn’t respect your time, and that he temporarily held time with his project partner in higher regard than time with you. Combined with the rest of your day, it’s understandable that it’d be a last straw.” He’s squinting at Baam, as though he doesn’t expect to be right, as though he expects there to be something more but can’t quite put his finger on what it is.

Baam nods at him anyway, but there’s an unsavoury, wiggling feeling at the bottom of his stomach that laughs at that.

If it wasn’t Khun, you wouldn’t have minded as much, it taunts him. If it was Hatz, you’d have just brushed it off as his scatterbrain and just waited out the rain. But it was something about seeing Khun with that girl that made you so upset you had to run home in the rain, wasn’t it? I think you’re-

“You’re jealous,” Isu says, slight incredulity colouring his tone as he arrives as the same conclusion. He rocks back in his chair slightly, and repeats, “My god, you’re jealous.”

Baam chokes. He briefly considers denying Isu’s scarily accurate mind-reading, but his head is so, so heavy, and there’s a tiny bloom of relief now that the nasty knot in his throat has finally been given a name.

He lets his head hit the table, and his question comes out more like a smothered whine. “How do I make it stop?”

He feels Isu’s fingers tap along the table as he works out the answer to Baam’s question.

“You’re acting like you’ve just got your heart broken,” Isu says, after a while. “I think that should tell you something.”

“I’m not in love with him,” Baam says, protest dulled and muffled. “I’m not.”

Isu remains silent.

“I’m not,” Baam insists. “He’s my best friend.”

He waits for the familiar bloom of pride he gets whenever Khun introduces him to someone as his best friend, but the words ‘best friend’ no longer taste like they used to.

“He’s my best friend,” he says again. As the words leave his mouth, Baam no longer quite knows who it is that he’s insisting to.

(Khun knocks on his door that night to apologise. Baam takes a deep breath and they both ignore his red eyes and pretend nothing ever happened.)

-

Baam shifts. It’s warm under the blanket and really, if someone could turn that fucking alarm off and let him sleep a couple more minutes, it’d be great.

There’s a slight shift behind him, and a small whine comes from the crook of his neck.

Baam freezes, suddenly more awake. There’s a heavy, warm sort of weight around his waist and a cool press against his calves. He doesn’t dare open his eyes to see what they might be.

This can’t be happening, he tells himself, then nearly laughs aloud. Of course it’s a dream, Baam thinks. His unconscious must have lifted something out of all the things he’s never allowed himself to consider, much less daydream about, and stuffed them all into a dream-

Lips brush the back of his neck and Baam’s mind stops working.

He’s sure his heart is thumping loud enough to wake Khun up, but Khun just mumbles against his neck again, whispers of a breath making Baam’s hair stand on end. “The alarm-“

He feels Khun still. Stars burn and burst and civilisations rise and fall in the spaces between Baam’s heartbeats. He can almost hear the cogs in Khun’s brain turning, and he’s so busy trying to keep his heart still and his breathing even that he thinks he imagines the barest press of lips on the back of his neck before Khun pulls away.

He nearly whimpers at the loss of contact, but Khun has already shut off the infernal alarm and is shaking him awake, hand warm against his shoulder.

Khun’s voice is rough with sleep and something else as he tells Baam to get up and get dressed for breakfast. Baam tries not to think about it.

-

Isu is convinced Baam just needs to go out more and meet people that don’t live with him and are not Khun.

Baam disagrees.

He doesn’t understand why Isu is squeezed onto his bed next to him, flicking through Tinder and showing him faces that frankly, look nothing close to Khun’s. “I’m not interested in dating anyone,” Baam mutters for the fourth time.

“You’re not interested in dating anyone that isn’t Khun,” Isu corrects. He swipes left a couple times, then frowns. “How about this one?”

Baam groans, and shoves him lightly. “Get off my bed, Isu, your bed is literally three feet away.”

“You can’t see faces on this screen from three feet away-“

“I don’t want to-“

“Listen, Baam, you want to get over Khun? Go on some dates. Seven billion people on this earth and you think that blue shrimp is The One?”

“I don’t think he’s anything, he’s just my best friend-“ Baam falters under Isu’s withering look. He has to admit that even to himself, his repeated denials have sounded particularly pathetic as of late.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” Isu says finally, setting his phone down. “I’ve seen the way you look at him, and frankly? It reminds me of the way I used to look at Hatz.”

Baam’s eyes widen. “Hatz?! But-“

Isu waves him away. “Briefly thought I fancied him way back in ninth grade. Had a whole dramatic little crisis about pining after my straight best friend too, it was a nightmare for my mum.”

“And then what happened?” Baam’s voice is smaller than he intends.

Isu snorts, tipping his head back and letting it hit the wall, “Then I went on a date with someone else and realised that I was an absolute fool and Hatz wasn’t all that great, that’s what happened. My mum’s theory is that since there wasn’t anyone else in the picture, my brain went for the only one who would show me affection. Which was really stupid, because something in me already knew that even if Hatz and I were soulmates, we’re in no way relationship material, you know? It just took me a little nudge to better figure out what I wanted in a relationship and realise that Hatz wasn’t it.” He chances a look at Baam, and exhales a shaky laugh, looking back up at the ceiling. “Don’t tell him, though, don’t want to get his ego to get more inflated than it already is.”

Baam looks up at him. He sees how Isu’s biting his lip and avoiding his gaze, and he sees how Isu’s sharing a part of himself that he’s never told anyone, how Isu’s just really and sincerely trying to help. “I’d never.”

And so he agrees. He agrees to let Isu set him up on dates and he agrees to sit down and figure out what it is he wants. Because it can’t be -  and it shouldn’t be - Khun. It can’t be Khun and his smart quips and his messy bangs and the way he smiles at Baam like Baam’s the only thing in his world and the way that makes Baam’s heart skip a beat every time.

(Khun catches him, one day, stumbling out the dorm, running late to a date with some girl named Endorsi? Androssi? “Where you headed? Wanna get dinner?”

“Maybe later,” Baam mumbles, distracted and looking at everywhere else but Khun, “I’m late to a… to a date.”

Then he slips away, like sand between Khun’s fingers, and Khun tells himself for the rest of the day that the hollow feeling in his chest is because his professor only gave him an A- on that marketing project that he and Yuri slaved away over.)

-

“If I have to go on another rollercoaster, I’m going to throw up,” Isu warns the group. He’s bent over heaving, hands on his knees, and his glare just makes Hatz laugh even harder.

Khun chuckles and takes pity on him. “You all go on ahead, I’ll take this one and get us snacks. We’ll meet you at the exit of the next coaster.”

It takes all of two seconds for Hatz and Rak to cheer and haul Baam off to the next one.

“You didn’t want to get on another one too, huh?” Isu whispers conspiratorially, bumping his shoulder against Khun’s.

Khun snorts, “I can handle a couple more-“

“Liar!” Isu sings, and winds his arm around Khun’s shoulders. Khun bats him off, laughing, and they head over to the nearest concession stand.

Isu orders them hotdogs, but the churros in the display case catches Khun’s eye. A vague memory of Baam mentioning churros flashes in Khun’s mind and he makes a quick decision.

“And a churro,” Khun tacks on, then fishes out his wallet.

Isu eyes him. “Hungry?”

Khun shakes his head. “Baam likes churros, he hasn’t had them in a while.”

Isu just looks at him strangely, then turns to collect their orders from the operator.

Khun frowns. Should he have gotten all of them churros? Hatz doesn’t like sugary things, though-

As they walk back, foil-wrapped hotdogs and churro in hand, he hears Isu whistle quietly. He bumps his hip against Khun’s, and nods over to their right. “Look at that guy.”

Khun glances up, trying to keep the mini hotdog-churro mountain in his hand from toppling. The guy in question has short silver hair barely covered by a backwards cap and eyes red as a snake’s. The flimsy white tank top he has on leaves little to the imagination, and from the way he looks positively sculpted, Khun can see why Isu singled him out.

“Right Baam’s type, isn’t he?” Isu says, and Khun nearly drops the churro.

“Baam-“ he splutters, trying to salvage the churro from where it’s clamped in the turn of his wrist. “Baam’s type?”

“Yeah. You think he’s Baam’s type?”

“I don’t know, he’s only ever dated girls-“

“You’re his best friend and you never once asked? Also, he’s only had one girlfriend, but I set him up with all genders-“

“You set him up?!”

“For the whole of freshman spring, you fool, did you never catch on?”

“He’s never mentioned it-“

“That’s because he wasn’t interested in any of them, and I tried my best, mind you-“

“And that’s Baam’s type?” Khun twists slightly to look back at the man.

Isu bites his lip, grinning, and Khun has a strange feeling Isu’s just making it up in his head.

“He isn’t, is he?” Khun says, and ignores the way his heart lifts slightly.

“You’ll just have to ask,” Isu sings, and Khun groans.

Before he can think too much about why he even wants to find out in the first place, they see a brown blur barrelling towards them, and Khun has to take a step back to avoid being ran over by Rak.

Hatz and Baam are slower to head towards them, still talking about the animatronics in their last ride. Isu hands Hatz his hotdog, and Khun is about to tell Baam that hey, the concession stand was selling churros and I remember you mentioned a while ago-

“The animatronics were really cool, Khun, you should have seen it. You would have liked them.” Baam’s eyes are shining, soft muted gold, and Khun finds himself smiling softly back.

“I’ll go with you next time,” Khun promises, and is rewarded with Baam’s breathless beam.

(“Gross,” Hatz mutters, mouth full of mustard. Isu isn’t sure if he’s talking about the way Khun and Baam can’t stop looking at each other or if it’s the obscene amount of mustard he slathered onto Hatz’s hotdog as a joke.)

-

As it turns out, Baam gets along with all the people Isu sets him up with like a house on fire.

Not in the way Isu expects, of course. Baam finds out that Wangnan was forced to do it by his friends too, and they spend an hour commiserating over meddling friends with good intentions before realising they share their sociolinguistics class and move on to commiserating over that too. Ehwa is slightly clumsy with her words, but is completely endearing, and when she admits to Baam that she’s not really looking for a relationship because she’s still hung up over an ex, Baam finds himself equal parts relieved and sympathetic. Urek confesses that his main motive for downloading the app is to convince people to join his school’s flailing LGBTQ club, but it backfires when they realise they attend different colleges. Baam laughs and agrees to attend some of Urek’s club events anyway.

He ends up great friends with all of them, and with the flow and ebb of the semester, ends up spending less time in his dorm than usual.

“Getting popular, huh,” Khun says one day, as Baam taps out a reply to Ehwa that absolutely yes, he‘d love to hear about the new boy she’s been seeing. Baam hums distractedly in response, and sets his phone down when Khun sighs.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time out of the dorm,” Khun tries again.

Baam blinks. “Some of my friends living in different residence halls.”

“You’ve been spending less time with us,” Khun clarifies. Baam wishes he could see Khun’s eyes to figure out what he’s thinking, but Khun’s frowning down at his nails.

“You jealous?” The words slip out of his mouth before he can help it, and he nearly laughs at their irony.

Khun glances sharply at him, full force of a blue stare wiping away Baam’s smile. He’s looking straight at Baam with a seriousness that they’ve never shared in their nearly-two semesters of friendship, and there follows a moment of silence so loud that it echoes in Baam’s ears and with each beat of his heart Baam knows that Isu is wrong, Isu is wrong, Isu is wrong and that there will never be anyone for him but Khun.

Suddenly Khun blinks and he’s pouting, lower lip jutting out in petulance. “So what if I am?”

(When Hatz walks in, he says Baam laughed so loudly he could hear him all the way from the lift.)

-

Rak eyes Baam’s hotdog. He’s long since finished his, but Baam’s been stuck, starry-eyed, on the churro Khun bought for him, and Rak grumbles to himself that if Baam doesn’t get started on that hotdog soon he’ll rip it out of Baam’s hands and inhale it himself.

“Baam? Is that you?”

An unfamiliar man is standing behind them, head cocked to the side and unzipped hoodie barely clinging onto his biceps. Rak winces as Isu grabs his shoulder and whispers, “It’s him!”

Before Rak can ask Isu what he’s talking about, Baam has burst into a smile - “Urek!”

“Baam, baby, I knew it was you!”

Rak blinks. Baby?

He wants to ask Isu about this strange man with silver hair, but everyone’s mouth hangs open as Urek envelopes Baam in a bone-crushing hug and lifts him off the ground.

“Thought I wasn’t going to see you again, not with my club leaving for our trip two days before your finals ended, but I’m so glad to see you, babe-“

Isu issues a faint squeak as Urek plants a loud smack on Baam’s forehead, and clutches Rak’s shoulder even tighter.

Rak turns to Isu. “Explain,” he demands, under his breath.

“I thought he looked familiar when I saw him just now, fuck- I set up him with Baam ages ago, back in freshman spring, I thought nothing came of it since Baam talks about him like he’s just a friend but-“

“But babe?” Rak hisses. Khun isn’t going to like this, he thinks. He’s going to go into one of his infamous sulks and Baam’s going to be the only one who can pull him out of it, and good fucking luck to whoever gets the job of explaining to Baam why Khun was sulking in the first place.

“So you gonna introduce me to your friends, Baam?” The man says, slinging his arm around Baam and smiling genially at everyone. Baam’s smile is so wide it nearly cracks his face in half, and Rak wonders faintly how Khun is faring.

“Everyone, this is Urek, he goes to the college uptown. Urek, these are my best friends Hatz, Isu, Rak and... where’s Khun?”

Rak pauses as everyone turns to look around. He swears Khun was right beside Hatz half a second ago, but there’s absolutely no trace of him now. Half of Rak is relieved that he’s not on the other end of one of Khun’s patented glares, but the other half of him knows Khun well enough that he can smell the Brood building just right round the corner.

He sighs, and gently disentangles Isu’s arm from his. “He mentioned something about needing to run to the washroom, I’ll go see if he’s there.”

Rak waves a friendly goodbye at Urek, and as he walks away to search for a flash of blue hair, he hears a sly, “Oh, Khun? Your Khun?” and Baam’s flustered spluttering.

Ah.

He spots a messy blue flash a little ways down from them, and hurries over before Khun can see him.

“So,” Rak says by way of greeting. He clamps a hand on Khun’s shoulder as Khun turns, blue eyes flashing in surprise, “Our mighty Khun has run away.”

“I’m not running from anything,” Khun mutters, turning away again, “I just... saw this really interesting... thing and came over to look at it.”

“Terribly fascinating, these... uh,” Rak follows Khu’s gaze, “these trash cans.”

“They... they might talk.”

“Talking trash cans.” Rak is unimpressed, and he makes sure to let it into his tone.

He crosses his arms and lets Khun avoid his gaze for a few more seconds. Khun’ll start talking soon, Rak knows - he hates awkwardness, especially when they’re centred around him.

“He’s… he does seem close to Baam, isn’t he?” Khun says, eventually. He still hasn’t taken his eyes off the trash cans, and Rak briefly considers tossing Khun into one.

“I don’t know, you tell me. You’re his best best friend.”

There’s a flash of a wince before Khun’s cool mask is back. “He hasn’t told me anything about that guy.”

Rak waits.

“He’d… he’d tell me if they were dating, wouldn’t he?” Khun’s eyebrows are furrowed. “Why hasn’t he said anything about being someone’s… someone’s babe?”

Khun spits out the last word with so much disgust that Rak nearly laughs. “You’re an idiot,” Rak chooses to say instead.

He waits for Khun to look up before continuing, “You’re an idiot and lest you forget, you're his best friend-“

“Just his best friend-“

“-and what that means is that if he hasn’t told you anything about this guy giving him pet names, it probably isn’t significant enough to him and he hasn’t feel the need to mention it. To you or to any of us. Whoever Urek is, he doesn’t mean anything to Baam other than a friend, and you, of all people, shouldn’t worry that Baam is keeping anything from us. He’s your best friend, Khun. Trust him.”

Khun lowers his head, worrying a fingernail between his teeth. They remain silent for a moment, until Rak finally processes what Khun has said.

“Just his best friend?” Rak tries not to smile too widely. “You looking to be something more, then?”

Khun freezes slightly, then lets out a laugh that is far too cheery. “Course not.”

Rak isn’t as smart or perceptive as Isu is, he knows, but he likes to think that after more than two years of friendship, he can read Khun pretty well too. He kicks lightly at the trash cans, and offers quietly, “I know his friendship is valuable to you - I know all of our friendships are - but I don’t know if you see the way Baam looks at you sometimes. There’s… there’s something different there. There’s something there that Hatz doesn’t have with Isu. And I know you’re afraid of losing him, and you’re afraid taking the chance that one day he might leave you behind but… for what my opinion is worth, I think Baam might be a chance worth taking.”

He watches Khun take one breath, two, three. Khun’s hands are balled up into fists and Rak can see the cogs turning as Khun processes and reprocesses what Rak is presenting to him.

When Khun speaks, his voice is small. “The way Baam looks at me?”

“You’ve been walking around him with your eyes closed, haven’t you - he looks at you the same way you look at him.”

Khun’s mouth opens, as if in denial, and Rak huffs. “He looks at you like if you were to hypothetically be more than best friends with him… he looks at you as if he might like that.”

Khun shuts his mouth. He stays lost in thought for a while, and Rak feels an itch on the back of his neck like someone is watching him. He suddenly remembers the way they have left Baam and Hatz and Isu standing, waiting for them, and curses. “Come on, they’re looking for you. Should I tell them you were jealous that someone called Baam baby or should I tell them you were entranced by talking trash cans?”

Khun flushes and turns to walk away from said trash cans, tossing Rak two fingers.

Rak just cackles.

--

The first snow of sophomore year falls on a Tuesday.

Baam wakes up to a flurry of white outside his window, and as he trudges through the ankle-high slush and the snowflakes that threaten to glue his eyelashes together, he realises he forgot to bring gloves.

Ah, well. He’ll just suffer, then.

His phone buzzes with non-stop texts from Hatz and Isu all throughout his second lecture of the day, and he fumbles to set it on Do Not Disturb when his TA starts glancing over at him.

Best Roommate Ever: snowing!!!! Fencing Champion: snowball fight in the park, 2pm Best Roommate Ever: bring it on bro I’m not scared of you Fencing Champion: yeah, not scared of me keeping my winning streak alive  Alligator Overlord: get ready to get SMUSHED, cowards, the Great Rak is coming Khun: good lord, y’all couldn’t wait until classes were over?

Baam bites back a grin, heart oddly warm, and he finds himself unable to sit still for the remainder of the lecture. He ends up counting down the minutes to the end of class, and as soon as it hits 1.45pm he tosses his notes into his bag and his scarf around his neck.

He is the first one out of the building, and nearly blows by the person leaning by the entrance. The person reaches forward and tugs on his backpack, and Baam turns around, startled, only to come face to face with Khun.

“Woah there,” Khun laughs, arms reaching out to steady him. “In a rush?”

Baam grins in response. “Left my gloves at the dorm, thought I’d go grab them before meeting everyone for the snowball fight. Wanna come with?”

Khun raises an eyebrow, and produces Baam’s gloves from his own pocket and holds them up to Baam.

“Absolute hero,” Baam beams, and he tries to tamp down the wonderful sort of warmth curling out from his heart all the way down to his toes. “How’d you know?”

Khun shrugs. “You always forget your gloves. Thought I’d just let myself in and check if you did.”

He hands Baam his gloves, and wait for him to put them on before they begin the cold and slippery trek to the park.

Isu and Hatz are already there, wrapped in beanies and scarves and long winter coats.

“Get ready to get wrecked, losers!” Isu calls out, waving to them.

“Where’s Rak?”

“Rak’s here,” comes Rak’s voice, somewhere near Baam’s feet. He’s lying on his back, limbs spread out and tongue sticking out. “Mm trying to catch snowflakes.”

Baam just laughs, and helps him up. There are already multiple groups spread across the grass, flinging snowballs at each other with peals of laughter carrying in the wind.

“We’re thinking a three versus two game,” Isu offers, now that Rak is back on his feet. “How do we want to split?”

They decide on rock, paper, scissors, and by some feat of magic (“Manipulation,” Hatz insists), Khun emerges on top.

“You get first pick,” Hatz tells him, “but the other side gets the third person.”

Khun twists to look at Baam. “How’s your aim?”

“Terrible,” Baam answers honestly, and Khun grins with far too much delight.

“Great. I want Baam.”

“No cheating,” Hatz warns. “Just the both of you.”

Khun bumps his shoulder against Baam’s and grins at him, eyes sparkling with mischief, “Always been us, hasn’t it?”

And when Baam laughs, full and delighted, Khun swings, hidden snowball hitting Hatz right between the eyes.

(Baam dreams about us sometimes. He dreams of an us, a universe in which Khun is ice and he is fire, and they burn together in an endless firework instead of melting into a tepid puddle.

He dreams of a Khun that hurtles through space and time, and of a Baam that will rip rifts into the fabric of the universe if it means he can follow wherever Khun goes.

He dreams of a Baam that spins illusions out of thin air in a circus for those without a home, and a Khun that tells the future and flips cards and is the flip side of his card, the way people are in the best sort of love stories.

He dreams of a Khun that wraps his hand around Baam’s and tips their foreheads together in soft moonlight, and of a Baam that is brave enough to rest his head against Khun’s heart, finally brave enough to dance with him to the quiet song that is three o’clock.

He dreams of a Baam that charges into battle, cloaked in red, sword drawn and burning with the rage of a thousand souls, and of a Khun that grits his teeth and charges in right behind him.

He tells Isu about the latest of his strange dreams one day, and Isu just laughs.

“Of course he would,” Isu says, picking up his book again. “Khun looks at you as if he’d follow you around anywhere.”)

-

“Come on, eat faster, we’re gonna miss good spots for the fireworks!”

“What good spots?” Khun snorts. “In case you forget, fireworks are in the sky. Anywhere’s a good spot.”

Rak levels Khun a glare, and brandishes a fry in his face. “Not if the only place left is under an awning and all our views are blocked. Remember junior year?”

Everyone groans at the memory and starts eating slightly faster - they waited for the fireworks to signal the end of the pride parade, but when the fireworks started and they finally clambered outside of the coffee shop they were waiting in, all they could see was the red underbelly of an awning that desperately needed a clean.

“So,” Baam says, “Urek asks if we want to meet his club for lunch tomorrow.”

There is instant reaction around the table - Rak drops a fry on the ground and squawks, and Isu chokes on his soda. Hatz has to thump him hard on the back before Isu inhales, red-faced. He flashes a grin at Baam, “Why don’t you ask Khun?”

Khun looks up from where he is staring daggers at the table, and frowns. Why me? He wants to ask, but Baam has already turned to him, eyes hopeful and fingers poised over his keyboard.

He swallows hard. As much as he doesn’t like Urek (Which doesn’t make sense, by the way, a small voice in his head tells him primly. Urek’s been nothing but friendly to you.) he doesn’t want to be the one to deny Baam anything. “If you want to, sure.”

Hatz huffs in annoyance, and Khun shoots him a look. What’s with all his friends today, he wants to demand. First with Isu joking about Baam’s type, then Rak being uncharacteristically insightful about things Khun doesn’t want to think about, and now Hatz? But he sees an opening to get answers, and he goes in for the kill.

He turns to Baam, and slaps on a smirk. “So he’s your type, huh?”

Baam’s mouth hangs open, a faint blush painting his cheeks. “He’s- what- he-” Baam flaps his hands in Khun’s direction. “What made you think that?”

Khun affects a casual shrug. “Looked like you were pretty pleased to see him.”

“He’s a friend from uptown,” Baam says. “Nothing like my type.”

“And what would that be?” Khun says, then makes the mistake of looking into Baam’s eyes. Like honey, he thinks, dazed, the kind that is sweet and sticky and impossible to ever escape once you’ve fallen in.

He nearly misses Baam’s nonchalant answer, delivered as if he’d rehearsed in his mind a thousand times before. “You know, kind, smart, resourceful. Takes the time to get to know me. Same sense of humour. Always knows what to say. Remembers the small details about me, stuff like that.”

There’s a snort from the other end of the table that sounds suspiciously like sounds a lot like Khun, but the tips of Baam’s ears are red as he breaks eye contact with Khun and he’s pouting so fiercely at Isu that Khun’s mind nearly goes blank at how… how cute it is.

But Rak is growling at them about how if they don’t finish eating in five minutes he’s going to head out to see the fireworks without them, and so Khun’s mind shuts up pretty quickly.

(They manage to find a good spot, of course. Not many awnings in amusement parks.)

The first firework to go up is red, and the crowd oohs and aahs as their video cameras capture the peony bursting into a thousand tiny stars. The next one is a yellow brocade, and as the golden stars fade away, Khun can’t help but think that it doesn’t quite match the golden of Baam’s eyes.

Baam.

He turns to his side, shoulder brushing Baam’s, and is stunned to see Baam already looking at him.

Baam blinks rapidly at having been caught, and Khun can see a small flush making its way up his face in the dim light. Khun’s eyes unconsciously trail down, a small part of his mind wondering, wandering-

Khun finds himself leaning in, and his eyes dart back up to Baam’s, suddenly closer than they’ve ever been. They are full of… hesitance, Khun thinks. Hesitance and a quiet sort of yearning and something that resembles hopefulness that makes Khun’s heart flip in a peculiar sort of way.

He opens his mouth, but under the bursts of the fireworks and the thunder of his own heartbeat, he finds that for the first time in his life he cannot think of anything to say to his best friend.

He doesn’t know how long they stay like this, encased in all the things Khun doesn’t know how to put into words, a frozen bubble of their own, but all too soon the lights are flickering back on in the park and everyone is cheering for the fireworks display. There is a resigned sort of smile on Baam’s face as he raises his hands to join the applause, and Khun notices too late that Baam never pulled away.

“They were beautiful, weren’t they, Khun!” Hatz is saying, and Khun snaps away, shoulders jolting away from Baam’s and mouth fumbling through a yes, of course, of course.

-

When Khun is five, his sister tells him about her first boyfriend. What kind of person do you want to date in ten years, Khun? Khun thinks about it, and tells her, with all the gravity a five-year-old can muster, someone who eats all my carrots so I don’t have to. His sister bursts out laughing, then hauls him onto her lap. My boyfriend is tall and smart and handsome, she says, tickling his sides. Will you be tall and smart and handsome too? But he’s wriggling around too much to answer, answering shrieks of laughter echoing down the hallway.

When Khun is eight, he comes back from school with a backpack full of chocolates on Valentine’s Day, and when his mother laughs and asks him who he got them all from, he shrugs. Here and there, he tells her, and he hands her the stack of letters he gets along with them for her perusal. You didn’t open any of them, she says, but he has already wandered off. He ends up stuffing some chocolate into his sister’s jacket pocket, and when she disappears that night he wonders if she ever finds them.

When Khun is ten, his sister comes back home, bruised and empty. She sometimes forgets the motions she needs to go through to love herself again, Khun’s mother tells him, so he needs to love her extra until she remembers. He hears - he can still hear - the quiet, trembling way she tries to rebuild herself and when he climbs into her bed to hug her and pepper her forehead with kisses the same way their mum does, he tells her it’s okay to cry, and he tells himself that he will never let someone consume him the way that monster has consumed her, because even at the age of ten Khun has come to learn that sometimes the wounds that hurt the most are the ones that don’t show scars.

When Khun is fourteen, Novick gets a crush for the first time. He tells Khun all about her after school one day, and Khun nods politely in all the right places while trying to solve a rubix cube. How do you know? Khun asks, hands fiddling with his cube. How do you know you like her? Novick flops over onto his bed and sighs. Can’t get her out of my mind, Novick says. I can’t stop wanting to make her smile.

When Khun is seventeen, Dan applies to the same college his partner does. You’ll regret it, Khun and Novick tell him. Think about what college is best for your education, not who’s going to go there, but Dan just laughs. It’s a reach school anyway, he says. He might not make it in. But he’s test-savvy, and he does, and when it comes down to the decision between Khun’s school and theirs, Dan chooses them. Don’t sacrifice your future for someone you might not even remember down the road, it doesn’t make sense, Novick tells him, and tosses a pen at his head. Love isn’t supposed to make sense anyway, Dan grins, and that’s that.

When Khun is eighteen, he comes back to Dan and Novick for the summer with one name on his tongue. He tells them all about Baam and the way Baam’s eyes sparkle when he’s excited and the way he hates pickles and the way he laughs at all the bad jokes everyone else groans at. He talks about Baam until Novick swipes him on the head and laughs. You talk about him so much it’s insane. You in love, bro? And Khun remembers the flames that burned his sister, the way love ate and ate and ate away at her until she had to build herself again, and he bites his tongue and shakes his head, insistent. I’m not.

When Khun is twenty two, alone in a hotel room crowded with his own thoughts at two am while his best friend lingers outside, he calls Dan and Novick. They hear the worry of fingernail between his teeth, and they ask him what’s wrong, Khun, what’s wrong, and joke about how they’ll help him hide the body. He takes a deep breath, and whispers, I think I’m in love with him.

And just like that, the dam breaks.

He tells them about the way he cannot stop thinking about Baam - the way he has never stopped thinking about Baam since the day they met - and the way he’d do anything to make Baam smile. He tells them about the way Baam’s eyes shine a soft, subdued gold when he’s thoughtful and a fierce, flashing gold when he gets worked up, and the way Khun has tried his best but has never quite figured out if it’s the gold of dusk or dawn. He tells them about the way something inside him aches when Baam looks away, the way Khun’s hands itch to hold his every time they touch.

He tells them about the way Baam eats his carrots (Novick laughs) and the way Baam has a stupid sweet tooth that can only be satisfied with copious amounts of chocolate and the way he walked forty blocks once just to find the sort of chocolate Baam likes because he knew that Baam’s beam at the end of it would be worth it. He tells them about the way Baam looked, under the dim light of the fireworks, the way Baam looked at him, hopeful and yearning and sad all at once, and the way Khun wanted nothing more than to kiss him in that moment. He tells them about what Rak said, about the way Baam looks at him, and the way he looks at Baam and how the past few years suddenly clicked and made sense.

He tells them about the way he’s discovered that Baam has dismantled him, piece by piece, and has diffused through him so thoroughly that everywhere he looks, it just echoes Baam, Baam, Baam, and as a tear rolls down his cheek he tells them about the way it doesn’t make sense, because he’s told himself that nobody is supposed to cut through him like this.

Love isn’t supposed to make sense, Dan says. Now go, go and tell him.

-

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Baam looks up. He watches as Khun emerges from the shadows, hair almost pearlescent in the sharp moonlight. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, and he looks almost nervous waiting for Baam to allow him to sit.

Baam shifts, and he settles down next to where Baam is sitting on the curb, hugging his legs and chin on his knees. The curb is narrow, and Khun is nearly totally pressed up against Baam by the time he’s fully sat down, adopting the same pose Baam is.

Baam swallows. He feels the warmth of Khun’s leg through his own jeans, and the dangerous brush of Khun’s hand on his.

“Nice night.” Khun comments.

Baam hums in response. It is - the stars have all come out in this dark distance between them and the city, and the only things Baam can hear is the song of the cicadas and the low buzz from the neon sign outside the hotel.

“What brings you outside at 3am?”

Everything, Baam thinks. You. Me. What I want us to be but daren’t ask for.

The way I keep replaying that moment under the fireworks in my head. The way that when I close my eyes, I keep seeing the way you looked at me, keep feeling the brush of your shoulder against mine, but knowing it doesn’t mean the same thing to you as it does to me. The way that even if it did, you’d never act on it, and oh, the way I wish you would.

“Too stuffy,” Baam says instead.

“Me too,” Khun says, and his voice is so close, so close to Baam’s ear that he’s sure if he just turns his head a fraction Khun’s lips will be there. “Too many thoughts for one small room, you know?”

Baam swallows again, and stays still.

“Baam,” Khun murmurs. His voice sounds slightly strangled and all sorts of breathless, and it takes everything in Baam not to shiver in response.

“Baam, look at me, please.”  

And so Baam does, because he never can resist when it is Khun asking. He turns, and he sees the way the moonlight dances between Khun’s eyelashes, the way it brushes Khun’s cheeks and makes him glow, makes him look so ethereal that it makes Baam’s chest hurt.

He sees the way Khun’s eyes are soft and open and willing Baam to understand, but fierce and determined and brilliant all at once. They shine, and Baam’s breath stutters.

He wants to look away, wants to pry himself away from the trainwreck of a memory he knows he’s going to form, the memory he knows will replay in his mind’s eye over and over again when he lays down to sleep at night.

But Khun is beautiful, and Baam cannot take his eyes off of him.

Beautiful. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

And suddenly Khun is leaning over, hand warm on Baam’s jaw, eyes questioning, pleading, and Baam feels himself melt into Khun, carried by the ache of want he has hauling around by himself the past four years.

Khun tastes like iced coffee, like sunlight glinting off of fresh snow. He tastes like the crackle of lightning, like a multitude of city lights, like the sound of snowballs skimming across a frozen pond. He tastes like Baam has always thought of and more, lips slotting into Baam’s the way he has slotted himself into the space between Baam’s heartbeats, and Baam isn’t sure if he ever wants Khun to pull away.

And when they do break apart, it is with the feeling that everything in the world has snapped into place, brighter, clearer, right.

“I’m sorry it’s taken me this long,” Khun murmurs. “But I’m here now, and I don’t think I ever want to leave.”

====

anyway i just graduated and now i miss my friends and i don’t know what to do with my life what’s up with y’all 

[thepaperpanda]

Shooter || Joker x Reader

Summary: You're a witness of three privileged men killing at the subway. You accidentally meet the shooter the day after and he's far from what you've imagined he'd be.

Warnings: None

Words: 1562

Authors: Cass & Ailo

The gunshots brought back the pain; it was as if he would still be laying on the dirty sidewalk in that alley, being kicked by those teenagers, trying his best to protect his head and crotch from blows. The gunshots were sounded as if they could crack a skull, as if the sound itself could purify the mind.  Arthur's stomach lurched as he lowered gun he was holding in hand. He did this. He actually did this. Then silence returned far more thickly than it was before the shots, as if everything around man was collectively holding it's breath.

You were hiding behind one of pillars, hand covering your mouth as you desperately tried to calm down your breath and racing heart. Witnessing such a thing was too much for you. Using subway was your everyday thing, you were using it to get to work as well as return home. This unfortunate day you were going back home later than usual, the evening was calm until you heard shooting in the other cart. You didn't see much through little windows between carts. The little bit of view was terrifying enough to make you sneak out of the cart as soon as it stopped. You peaked out of your hiding spot just to look if you could go but all you saw was a man being shot as he tried climbing up the stairs. Quickly returning to your spot you started to pray to get out of this alive. Thanks God, the shooter disappeared and you were able to get out of the station safely. You thought about going to the police but all you wanted truly was to go home and hide in the safety of your little apartment. "I can always go there tomorrow," you told yourself, running back to your place.

Arthur returned home and pretended he was all fine but he wasn't.

That evening everything was making him angry, especially his mother and her pure trust in Thomas Wayne. Arthur helped her take bath but as soon as he put her to bed, he went to his own, little room and sneaked under the sheets, pulling quilt on his head as he was trying to hide himself from this world.

You should have to be asleep for a few hours but you simply couldn't find yourself a place. Sitting on the couch, looking at the movement on the tv's screen, your mind was going crazy recalling every second of the event in the subway.

Even if you were in your own flat you still felt scared because of such things were becoming an everyday thing. Shaking your head you forced yourself to go shower and get to bed.

Arthur was fired. All he could have done was get out of there with his head up, he didn't want to show them that they've broken him down like an old branch of a tree. He sat at the not high fence, foot tapping up and down like some dumb wind up toy. Man was rethinking his entire existence.

For you the morning was hard, dragging yourself out of the bed was horrible yet you started to get ready for going out.

Your friends made you join them during the protest against all the rich people in the city. You didn't really like such events because of the crowd but maybe they would finally affect something, you thought.

You never were a conflict person, you always tried to avoid fights or arguments but you hated all those rich bastards. They were having fun in their skyscrapers while all the regular people were drowning in trash and poverty.

Holding the strap of your bag you walked trough the streets, trying your best to not get crazy because of the yesterday's situation. You stopped your walk when you spotted a man, a really sad man.

Arthur felt observed, and indeed he was being watched.

A rather young woman was standing several steps from him glaring at him curiously.

At first he didn't react but when she was standing still in front of him, man raised his head a little and tilted it aside so his locks fell off his face, letting him see her fully.

Man looked too similar to the one from yesterday, it kinda made you afraid and all you've wanted was to run back to your flat but his look made you concerned.

You let out a sigh and smiled at him gently when he looked at you. Walking slowly you started to move closer to him. "Hey there... is everyhitng okay? You look sad," you said shrugging softly as you played with the strap.

He looked you deeply in the eyes; emotionless and empty eyes of his were like a well which ran dry. "Yeah," he replied without thinking too much. He observed you still yet he didn't move at all.

"So... Why so sad and aren't you cold? It's quite chilly today," you said bouncing on your legs a little. "Maybe I can help you somehow?"

"Do you like comedy?," He asked out of sudden. The question was so random that even he giggled a little but the giggle was full of darkness and sadness.

You blinked looking at him, taken aback by a sudden question. Thinking for a little moment you quickly nodded. "Sure! Who doesn't? I love to have a good laugh, it helps to keep going in this city. For me at last."

He sent you a brief smile but it was more a curl of his lips in a grimace. "I'm a comedian, I've always wanted to be a comedian," he said as he hopped off the fence and made a pose like only clown would do.

"Oh wow! It must be great, I bet you know a lot of jokes and anecdotes," you said smiling at him more and clapped your hands a little. "But you are missing one thing, friend."

He was about to reach into inner pocket of jacket to pull his notebook out and read something for you but he stopped any movement, looking at you. He shook his head for "no".

"Smile," you said giggling. "Come on, smile for me and I am ready to hear you out."

You turned round to find little bench, sitting down you put one leg over other like ever lady would does. Looking at man you send him another smile and waited at his performence.

He tried his best to smile yet he felt like tears started to gather into his eyes. He turned around few times and posed again but instead of smiling naturally, he slipped two fingers of each of his hands into his mouth corners and spread them upward in a grimace which had to be pretending smile.

You looked at him, raising your eyebrow. "Okay, let's say that this is enough to convice me. So? Can I hear you and your jokes?," You asked kindly.

You were really courious what he will 'serve' you. The things you told him were true, despite being young you already hated your life in Gotham. Silly comedies, stend ups and all of this helped you cope with the hard life and kept you away from bad thoughs and stuff.

Arthur pulled his notebook out of the pocket and opened it with shaking hands, turning page after page. When he was looking down onto his notes he was about to cry in a spot because of the sadness that were coming out of them. "Knock, knock."

"Who's there?," You asked looking at him.

"The man who killed three shitbags in the metro yesterday," he whispered seriously.

You looked at him completely struck with your eyes wide open. After a moment you laughed, it was very nervous. "You… Are you joking, right? 'Cus you are a comedian," you asked shortly.

"Am I looking like someone who's joking?," He asked openly.

You sat there quiet, swallowing heavily, soon you shook your head for 'no'.

"And do you know what's the worst? I'm fucking happy about what I've done, I don't regret killing them."

You giggled nervously and nodded, slowly moving to the edge of the bench, trying your best to slip away from him.

"I won't hurt you," he assured raising hands up. "I won't hurt you, no need to run."

You got up from your seat and looked at him. "You promise? I... I saw you. I swear, I didn't go to the police. Cross on my heart," you said.

He shook his head slightly with that strange grin on his lips. "I don't mind it. I have nothing to lose and I'm tired of pretending it wasn't funny."

You nodded, looking at him. Your hands once more played nervously with the strap of your bag. "You know…," You began slowly. "I think you did a right thing. Whoever they were, they deserved this. They play around because they are 'good, rich boys' while we all struggle here. Wayne and everyone similar to him could die in the fire and the city would become better instantly."

He listened to you patiently as the grin on his lips grew wider. Arthur nodded his head a little like he would be bowing to you. "When city will be burning, it's gonna be triumph of unprivileged. And I tell you this, it's gonna come sooner than everyone expects."

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[cozycryptidcorner]

Chapter Two

“Morning, love, how are things going on your end?”

“Things are going swimmingly!” Your throat grinds with having to keep your customer service tone up, but you grit your teeth and keep going. “What time should I expect you tomorrow?”

“Around noon, I think. Just have a couple of errands to run beforehand around town, but it shouldn’t take too long! Do you need me to pick anything up from Tom’s Hardware?”

Oh, sweet lord, yes, anything to stall her. An extra ten minutes might be the difference between your job and your career’s untimely death. You turn around to concentrate, reaching for where you stashed your notebook. “Actually, Marge, could you pick up a couple of paints? I’ll send over the serial numbers via email.”

“Oh, of course, you must be extra busy with your crew gone! I’ll get that done for you. Anything else?”

You try to wrack your brain, but you can’t think of anything more, much to your disappointment. Neither can you come up with any wild goose chases to keep her away for some time. “No, Marge, nothing comes to mind. Oh- wait, wait, I was just wondering what the statue outside is na- uh, titled, so I can start designing something themed.”

“Er, oh, I think it was among the lines of Gala-something. Galactus? No, that’s not right… Oh, dear, my wife would know.”

That’s when you noticed that the bench where you set the statue down is decidedly empty. Your stress levels immediately pop right back up to maximum. After a moment, you realize that your jaw aches as you clench it hard enough to break your teeth. Quickly enough, you come up with a believable lie to get off the phone as soon as possible. “Hey, Marge- delivery guy’s here. I’ve got to handle this.”

“Of course! Talk to you later, dear. I’ll have Esther send you a text message with the statue’s information.”

You’re already running through the hall when you hang up, eyes scanning every crevice that could possibly be a hiding spot for a walking statue, but you can’t find him. He’s not in the common area, nor in the first couple of rooms that your crew had managed to finish furnishing before leaving. You call for him, not sure of his name nor what you might refer to him as, so it’s a weird mash of statue guy, and stone dude, mainly just focusing on “um, hey? Not done with you yet!”

After edging on the precipice of a panic attack, you spot his silhouette upon the top of the staircase. Letting out a loud, pissed grunt, you storm up, hand on the rail to steady your angry rampage, and then you look over to the doorway he appears to be aiming for. Oh, no. No, no, no, not on your watch. You speed your pace, throwing yourself in front of the door before he can do any damage to the precious collection beyond it. Unfortunately, your injured hand makes a somewhat awkward connection with the oak frame, and a dull wave of pain rushes through your nerves.

“You can’t just wander off like that,” you gasp, out of breath from the speed you pushed yourself to.

“A thousand apologies, love,” he says, though you can see the curiosity running around and around his head like a carousel. “Might I inquire as to the contents of the room?”

Your face goes a bit pink, you can feel the heat sparking in your cheeks. “No, no, you may not. Everything in there belongs to the owner, only she and I are allowed in there.”

The statue then places both his hands on the door as well, creating a barrier between you and the rest of the hallway. “What if I asked nicely?”

Is his face inching closer? “I’d say no.”

“What if I asked very nicely?” He pecks you on the mouth, far too quickly for you to register that it was even happening until after the fact. Unfortunately, instead of leaving what ask nicely up for interpretation, he adds, “with my tongue, on my knees.”

Everything feels like it’s going on overdrive because someone you just met is offering sexual favors, and you feel like if you open your mouth at all, anything that comes out is going to be nothing more than a high pitched squeak. Just when you think this situation can’t get any worse, oh, he gets on his knees, as though promising that he's not bluffing, but you are not exactly open to the fact that his hands seem to be wandering to the waistline of your pants. In a panic, you bring your knee up. Not with the intent to hurt him, no, you don’t want any more broken body parts today, you just want to have another layer between him and your clothing.

“No! No, not even if you-” you manage to get ahold of your voice, though struggle greatly with keeping it from screaming, “just no! No, thank you!”

Above all else, he’s confused, with leaves you rather puzzled in return, because did he honest to god expect you to let him eat you out job, much less pressed up against a door that holds, at the very least, a good hundred-million dollars worth of artwork inside? Unless you’re reading the situation wayyyyy off-kilter, which is super unlikely, especially given the fact that he’s been trying to kiss the ever-loving daylights out of you since he first started breathing. With a hard swallow, you push him away, foot on his collarbone. At least he doesn’t offer up any resistance as he stands, brow furrowed.

“Back to the kitchen,” you instruct, pointing down the hall and then placing a hand over your eyes. A puff of anger escapes your lungs, and then you do your best to get your shit together in the two seconds you allow yourself. “Now.”

He obeys, thankfully, because you don’t know what you would end up doing otherwise. Once his back is turned, you pat your pockets and silently chastise yourself for not carrying your keys around, because you’re not going to put it past him to come snooping around once your attention is elsewhere. Oh, god, your work, how are you supposed to get anything done when you’re most likely going to have to babysit the statue? You assume it’s going to be like keeping an eye on a toddler; turn away for two minutes, and the castle will burn down. You can’t imagine digging yourself out of that grave. Remember to lock the door, you think hard, hoping you’ll have a chance to do it later.

“Alright,” you try to think once you’re back at the table, clawing at something, anything that could make a semblance of sense on this hellish day. “Okay. Cool. The owner of the property is coming over tomorrow.”

The statue rests his chin on his hand, his elbow on the table, mouth out in a soft, sullen pout.

“Now, just to recap, the person who owns your fine ass is coming down to pay me a visit to make sure everything is going well. Do you think that things are going well right now?” You don’t give him a chance to answer. “Things aren’t going well, and I don’t know how I’m going to fix this.”

“Do you think my ass is truly that divine?” He perks up, sounding a little too pleased with himself.

”Focus,” you grind out, afraid that you’re going to snap the pen you’re holding clean in half. The first step to saving money is not to break any of your things, no matter how fucking stressed you are. “I need you to go out in the back while she’s here and pretend to still be frozen.”

“But won’t, er, Marge, was it?”

“Ms. Hopkins, for you. Only friends get to call her Marge.”

He hesitates for a moment. ““Surely... Ms. Hopkins won’t be upset at a miracle sent by the gods themselves? Not unless she wishes punishment like that which she has never experienced before.” He settles back on the bench, arms open as though offering an embrace. “I have been birthed from the ground by chisel and a steady hand, then given life through the power of love by-”

“I’m going to cut you off there.” You hold a finger up, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Not to give you a crisis of faith or anything, but that’s not going to be good enough. I don’t want to be responsible for what happens to you if scientists start getting involved, you’re going to like, end up in a lab somewhere, and you’ll never see the light of day again. So when Marge gets here, you’re going to go back to that pedestal, and you’re going to stand still. Do you understand?”

“What’s a scientist? Is it like a philosopher?”

You’re fucking doomed. “Forget that, I need you to promise me that you’re going to stay put while Marge is here.”

He lets out a loud sigh, rolling his stone eyes so that you can fully see just how badly you’re inconveniencing him. “I suppose I might, though being able to stretch after such a long time has been such a blessing. Are you really going to make me go back to being still?”

“For like an hour? Yes, yes, I am.”

“But I’m so stiff,” he’s acting like you just asked him to shoot himself in the leg, “and my joints ache so very much.”

“You’ll hurt more if you don’t do as I say.” It’s an entirely empty threat since you’re pretty sure the only thing that might cut through him is an industrial chainsaw, something that’s not exactly on hand at the moment.

“Is that a promise?” He says, voice suddenly sultry and full of allure.

You need a moment to step away from the situation before you try strangling him, if that would even do any damage. Does he even breathe? Maybe you should check on that before anything else. Clear your head out, settle your thoughts, reset everything back to zero. This is fine. You’re fine. Everything’s fucking fine. Even though it physically pains you to say it, you offer up one last plea. “Please.”

That seems to move him, if only slightly. “If it is truly that important to you, then I shall.”

A shudder of relief runs through your body.

”However,” he stands to his full height, leaning over until his face is remarkably close to yours, “I should think that I should perhaps stretch, to fully prepare for such a task. Wouldn’t you agree?”

You skillfully dodge his mouth, turning around and letting out a frustrated breath. “Then do some yoga. I’ve got a job to do, you’ll remember, one that involves things like work and time.”

“Shall I help?”

”No!” It might have come out a little too harsh, but you are not letting him get his rocky hands all over your paints and equipment. “I just need you to be in my line of vision at all times, okay? Can you do that?”

“Can’t take your eyes off me for one moment?” He asks, which is entirely true but definitely not within the context of the tone he uses.

You know what? Agreeing at this point is probably better for both your sanity and his cooperation. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes to the back of your head, you say, deadpan, “you’re absolutely correct, I can’t seem to be able to ;ook away from that fine ass of yours. Please come with me upstairs so I can start working without your presence for a second longer than I must.”

He doesn’t appear to detect the sarcasm dripping from your words and instead looks rather flattered. “I suppose I must indulge you, then. Very well, show me the way to your place of work.”

You don’t bother to mention that the entire castle is your place of work, and instead lead him back to the library. None of the shelves are in place, and the books themselves are safely in storage while you and every other crew can trample on through without worrying about accidentally destroying something old enough to be their great-grandparent. Everything seems good to go, so you start to begin, stirring up the thick paint in the cans to make sure everything’s even, and then begin. You have almost an hour of uninterrupted work before the statue begins to start fiddling with some things that he should not be touching at all.

“Question,” you say, beginning on another wall, “can you sleep or anything?” Or do you need to be watched 24/7, no rest for the wicked amiright.

“I suppose we’ll find out.” He lays on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, clearly bored out of his mind.

“Could you maybe put on some clothes?” His nakedness hasn’t bothered you yet, but with all his attempts to take off your clothes, maybe some change is in order.

He turns his head in your direction and looks at you like you just suggested that he should maybe take a leisurely stroll into the sun. “And deprive you of such a beautiful view? Darling, my love, I should think not.”

“Okay, okay, no clothes.” You resist the urge to let out a huff. “I’m so sorry to even think of such a thing.”

“All is forgiven.” He says, so very gently, looking back up at the electric chandelier.

Again, there’s the desire to let out a scream that could be heard from across the nearest ocean, but you do no such thing. Instead, you throw yourself headfirst into your work, hoping that at the very least, your ridiculous amount of progress might allow Marge to overlook some… other things. You forget what time it is until you realize that it is suddenly so difficult to see your work, and that’s when you look out the window to find nothing but black and stars. The sun must have set long ago, without you even noticing, which means that it’s time for you to eat something before you faint from a sugar crash.

“Do you feel hungry?” You ask him, looking at your phone for the first time in hours. There’s a text from Esther, Marge’s wife, waiting for you to view.

“I don’t know.”

“Wonderful,” you respond, “but I do. I’ll order some pizza, then, and I guess you can eat some if you feel hungry at all. Any preferred toppings?”

“Preferred what?”

You take a deep breath. “I’ll just order something, then.”

And so you do, making sure the statue is sitting at the table with an old Rubix cube you found in one of the many boxes stashed in the storage room. Thankfully, he seems absolutely enamored by it, so you take the time to phone in a local pizza delivery place. Perhaps you get one too many things than you’d manage to eat, just in case the statue might end up needing to eat like any other person, though having leftovers isn’t exactly the worst outcome if he doesn’t.

While you wait for your food to be delivered, you take the liberty of reading over the document that Marge’s wife sent. Blah, blah, blah, temple excavation, blah, blah, oldest intact statue from the Hellenistic period, blah, blah, something about Aphrodite, and then… “Galateos.”

That catches his attention like a gunshot. He stares at you, mouth open and closing as he tries to come up with something to say in response. Finally, voice strangled, he says, “that sounds familiar.”

“Thought it might,” you say, a lie, really, because you don’t really know what he might find familiar and what he would see as entirely knew. “Esther texted me some info about where you came from. It says that the plaque you were given called you ‘Galateos.’”

He sits up just a tad bit taller, jaw clenched, eyes looking over the wooden table like it might offer some clues to what the word means. Finally, voice uncharacteristically dry, he says, “that must be my name.”

The way he says it, though, is unsure, almost scared, really. So you try offering a way out. “Is there something else you want to be called?”

He thinks about it, you can see the way his forehead crinkles and his eyes grow distant. But after barely a second of thought, he shakes his head. “No. Galateos is fine.”

“Alright, then, Galateos,” you try the name out. It’s long, and stiff, much like the way he had been complaining about his limbs a mere hours before. “Can I call you Gala? Or Teos? Or literally anything but?”

“You can call me ‘dearest,’ or ‘most beloved,’” he says, entirely serious.

“Galateos it is, then.” You look over the photograph of a pamphlet Marge must have ordered to advertise the statue, Esther even gave sent another picture of it open, revealing the block of text describing where they found him. “Do you remember being a statue at all? Or are you suddenly like…. Awake and stuff?”

He looks a tad bit troubled, looking down at his hands like he can’t quite place what their purpose is. After a moment of silence, he says, “I don’t know how to describe it. Darkness, forever. And then suddenly light. I didn’t care about the darkness while I was frozen because I couldn’t care about anything, anything at all. There were periods of warm and periods of cold, but neither of them were particularly bothersome.”

“You feel heat and cold?” You ask, already preparing an experiment in your head to check.

“I think so.”

“One way to find out.” You go through the cabinets until you find a large stainless steel bowl, then fill it to the brim with ice, and place it in front of him. “Stick your hand inside and leave it there for as long as you can.”

He looks at the ice like it’s something entirely unfamiliar and new, looking over at you like you might magically have the answer to a question he didn’t ask. Then, carefully, slowly, he slides his hand in the ice, frowning as he tries to verbalize what he feels. “What is this?”

“Ice.” When his expression remains blank, so you try to clarify. “When water gets cold, it freezes.”

His eyes widen, his mouth opening in a soft o. “This is water?”

“Frozen water, yeah,” you try to get back on topic, even though you find it odd that he knows what water is, but not ice. “Do you feel anything?”

“Cold,” he says, pulling his hand out. “It feels cold.”

You reach over and grab his hand in your own, running your thumb over his palm, finding the stone there as cold as one would expect to be after submerged in a pile of ice. “But you can feel it? Does it hurt?”

“It feels,” he thinks, brow furrowed, eyes decidedly glued on where your fingers touch, “pinching, but also not. As though I’m being poked by needles.”

That sounds cold to you, remembering the way your skin prickles when met with chilly air. So he can feel temperature changes, but can’t be deterred by one of your mean hooks, which you suppose is an interesting discovery. You might posit that it also doesn’t make the slightest lick of sense, but then again, a slab of lovingly carved stone is walking and talking, so you guess you can’t really be the judge of what is weird and what isn’t at the moment.

He slyly places his other hand over yours, wholly focused on tracing the path of your fingers while you… kind of just let it happen. If it was anyone else, you might have yanked your hand out of their grip, but you just sort of sit there and allow him to observe the curves and scars of your hand. While he does so, he’s quiet, not so much as whispering a single word that would cause you to leave, and is instead seems satisfied with the silence that settles over the kitchen. You can’t say that you’re uncomfortable with the way he touches you, his gestures so very gentle even though he’s a fucking rock.

“You’re an artist,” he says finally, his voice soft and sweet.

He’s only seen you working the brunt of the job, not the finer details that you pride yourself with. “How do you know?”

“The hands never lie.”

“And how would you know that?” You ask, a tad bit teasingly.

His eyes grow distant, feverish, as though he’s desperately trying to grasp something that’s just out of his reach. “I- I don’t rem-”

Someone’s at the kitchen’s back door, as instructed, knocking loudly and announcing that they’re the pizza guy. You’re very familiar with all the delivery people by now, and so you recognize the carrot-like hair of one of the pizza place’s employees, though you can’t recall his name. There’s cash in your back pocket, you always try to tip generously and under the table, and after exchanging a couple of words of pleasantries, you shut the door and go back to the table, pizza in hand. By this point, you’re practically frothing at the mouth for food, so statue be damned, you tear into the pizza like an animal once you’re sitting down.

Galateos watches with interest, observing the way you’re able to pull at the crust and place the triangular-shaped piece on a napkin that you decided to use as a plate because… you don’t have the energy to do dishes. As you eat, and subsequently feel a tad bit tired, you realize that there is going to be an issue with the fact that, problem one; you don’t know if you should leave him alone if he doesn’t sleep and problem two; there’s literally only one room that’s fully furnished and can house a person. You have been staying there, on your own, since going to some other hotel at night seems unnecessary, because this place is a hotel. Silently, you try to weigh the pros and cons of sharing a bed with him, and the only thing you seem to come back to is that you'd be able to keep an eye on him throughout the night.

He takes a couple of bites of the pizza, though scrunches up his nose with each one, seemingly unable to gather much of an appetite. Though he actually swallows the food, instead of spitting it right out like you might have expected, so that’s something, you guess. After you clean up, you sit with another mug of steaming hot tea, trying to relax yourself enough for sleep. He has a cup, too, though he stares at the liquid, and doesn’t really seem interested in drinking it.

You try to browse through the photos of the pamphlet again, trying to find something that might help you figure out just what the actual, literal fuck is going on. There isn’t really anything that might be considered out of the ordinary, there’s a transcript of the writing found at the base of the statue, back when he was standing still on the pedestal.

Μόνο ένας που μπορεί να αγαπήσει θα δώσει πνοή ζωής σε αυτό το σπλάχνο της γης

Όταν τα άστρα θα έχουν κινηθεί από τις θέσεις τους

Τότε ο γιος της Γεας θα αφυπνιστεί

Να γεννηθεί στην εποχή του μετάλλου και του κεραυνού

Όταν ο γλύπτης θα κείτεται νεκρός για τρείς χιλιάδες εύπρωκτα, εύπρωκτα χρόνια

There isn’t a translation available, which strikes you as odd. Maybe it hasn’t been translated yet? The pamphlet is a draft, after all. Maybe Marge has someone working on it right at this very moment and just hasn’t had the time to fully go over it yet. But… you look back up to the statue, who is bobbing his teabag up and down, watching the color of the water change. “Do you read Greek?”

“I don’t-”

“Just take a look,” you interrupt, holding your phone out in front of his face.

His eyes squint, pouring over the words on your phone, and it looks like he might actually be understanding what it says. That is, until, he sits back and offers you a shrug, mouth twitching. “I can’t.”

You let out a frustrated breath, but whatever. You knew it was a long shot, anyway. “Guess I’ll just have to wait until the official translator does their thing.”

Author’s Note:

A very special thanks to the wonderful @two-plus-two-is-four, my source for a lovely Greek translation of the inscription. I appreciate it so very much.

[opheliasbrokenmind]

too eager to learn - tommy shelby

heyy! you know i'm on vacation but i wrote this before coming here so i thought why wouldn't i post it?? i really like this one, i hope you enjoy reading it. i want to write for john, finn and alfie but here i am, always a sucker for tommy.. please don't forget to send me a message/anon/prompt/request, i love you and your feedbacks 💛

(and lol yes finn knows how to read here)

‘How the fuck am I supposed to know all of these, Tommy? Look at that.’ Finn whined to his brother as he pushed the paper to him. Tommy took it and started to read, ‘Read this quotes and write who said them. What? School stuff has changed a lot since I went there, ey? I don’t know, find someone to help you.’ He spoke but his little brother’s attention was somewhere else. Finn was looking at the woman who sat at the table next to them. She was a natural beauty at her mid-twenties and she was there since they came to the pub. She was with her friend but that very called ‘friend’ was snogging with a man in front of her. 

Tommy didn’t see what was Finn doing so he continued to read as Finn’s eyes met with the woman. She looked at him and held the gaze as Tommy read out, ‘Never close your lips to those whom you have already opened your heart.’ Finn heard him this time as a genuine smile spread over her face, she heard him, too. She turned her eyes to older Shelby, ‘You like Dickens?’ Tommy’s gaze left the paper and turned to her, ‘Excuse me, what?’ He said after a long silence, Finn was excited to see what happens next. ‘Forgive me for listening, I didn’t intend to do that. I asked because you just quoted from Charles Dickens.’

She waited for him to speak. ‘It’s okay. I didn’t know it belonged to him, it’s my little brother’s homework.’ Tommy explained and Finn smiled to her, she smiled back. ‘I’ll be so glad if you help me do it.’ He said as Tommy finished his whiskey, ‘What is it exactly?’ She asked curiously, tapping to table with her fingers. ‘I need to find who wrote those quotes.’ She listened to Finn and nodded, ‘Okay then.’ She turned to Tommy, ‘Would you mind reading them aloud?’ He was a bit shocked with her request but didn’t say anything and started to read as Finn wrote down the answers to his notebook.

‘To be able to forget means sanity.’ His voice was sharp and clear. ‘Jack London.’ She answered and waited for the next one. ‘Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.’ She thought for a minute before answering, ‘Jane Austen. What’s now?’ Finn wrote the name, he was impressed with this young woman’s knowledge. ‘Only people who are capable of loving strongly can also suffer great sorrow, but this same necessity of loving serves to counteract their grief and heals them.’

‘Oh, Tolstoy.’ She smiled kindly as Tommy cocked an eyebrow at her, ‘If you ask me what I came to do in this world, I, an artist, will answer you: I am here to live out loud.’ He looked at her with expectation, not believing that she’ll know the answer. ‘Émile Zola.’ He squinted and read the next one, ‘Sometimes I don't understand how another can love her, is allowed to love her, since I love her so completely myself, so intensely, so fully, grasp nothing, know nothing, have nothing but her.’ She smiled kindly, ‘I’d love to know that teacher. Goethe, by the way.’ 

‘How can you know all of these?’ Finn said with wide eyes and slightly parted mouth. She chuckled, ‘Interest and curiosity? I wanted to be a writer once, not that I can be one though.’ Her smile faded with the mention of her dream and of course, Tommy noticed. ‘Why aren’t you?’ A little small covered her lips as she stared at the floor, ‘My parents didn’t want.’ He frowned, ‘And you agreed?’ She looked at him for a moment before turning her eyes to her feet, ‘Whatever, it was a stupid idea.’ Thomas wanted to tell her that it’s not a stupid idea and she should do something to make it happen but he stayed silent. ‘Well, is it done?’

He looked at the paper, hesitated but then spoke, ‘Who are you really, and what were you before? What did you do and what did you think?’ She frowned and started to think. Finn was surprised, Tommy saw his face and shot him a look. ‘I... can’t remember. Is it due to tomorrow? I can try to find if you want.’ Finn turned to his brother and saw him nodding slowly, ‘No, it’s not. But I have to go somewhere, how about telling Tommy?’ She nodded, ‘It’s okay for me. Where can I find you?’ Tommy lit a cigar and took a puff before answering, ‘You can come ‘ere, whenever you want.’

‘Okay, then. I should go home now.’ Finn smiled, ‘Thanks, really.’ She returned the smile, ‘It’s my pleasure, I had fun.’ Tommy continued to smoke, ‘Are you leaving alone? It’s pretty late and the streets are not the safest places for pretty ladies.’ She looked at her friend, who is now sitting on the stranger’s lap. ‘She always does that, I’m used to walking alone.’ Finn frowned, ‘Yes but it’s really late and this is Small Heath. Let one of us walk you home.’ Tommy put off the cigarette, she couldn’t help but watch his hand, it was beautiful. ‘Go home and finish your homework Finn, will ya?’

Finn didn’t say anything and left the table, sending another smile to her. She took her little bag and coat, said something to her drunk friend. The drunk woman looked at her and Tommy, ‘Good choice, y/n!’ She shook her head and her cheeks flushed. When they got outside he looked at her and her dress. It was cute, he wanted to smile when he saw the floral patterns. But instead of this, he said ‘Better button up your coat, it’s cold.’ She didn’t say anything and did what he said. Tommy offered an arm to her, which she gladly accepted. ‘You know.. You didn’t need to do that, really. Thanks.’

‘So it’s y/n then, beautiful name.’ She looked at his heavenly deep blue eyes, ‘Thank you.’ He spoke again, ‘Why you didn’t be a writer?’ That wasn’t a good subject to talk about for her, but she gave breath and answered, ‘I spoke to my parents but... they weren’t the wealthiest family and told me that it was nonsense. They couldn’t send me to college even if they wanted to. I gave up, didn’t want them to feel bad for that.’ Her eyes hung on the walkway as he watched her. It was the first time she opened up to a stranger and she was the most honest girl he spoke to. ‘What do you do?’

‘I’m a secretary at the bank, I know it’s not the best but I earn enough.’ He nodded and they continued to walk, it was a beautiful silence. ‘We’re here.’ She said and they stopped in front of a small apartment. ‘Are you alone here?’ Tommy asked as she took off her keys and opened the door. ‘I’m living with Daisy, looks like she won’t come tonight.’ He cracked a smile, ‘Probably..’ She smiled at him, ‘Then tomorrow I’m coming to the pub?’ The man thought for a second, ‘Don’t want a girl like you to go there, eh? I can come round in the morning if that’s okay.’

‘Okay then. I’d like to offer you some tea but it’s pretty late, isn’t it?’ She smiled softly and found herself again looking at that lovely deep blue eyes. ‘It is. Thank you for helping Finn tonight.’ His voice was cold but she knew he meant it, ‘I had fun, really. Thank you for walking me here, I hope I can find the answer. Goodnight, Thomas.’ She said and stepped in the house, without knowing he was staring at her beautiful face. ‘Goodnight, y/n.’ Was all he said before pulling his blunt and placing a cigarette between his lips. 

***

‘Someone’s knocking the door y/n!’ Daisy shouted as she took a sip from her tea. ‘I’m not deaf Daisy.’ She said and went to open the door, only to face with a pair of baby blue eyes and a charming Tommy who dressed to the nines. ‘Hey.’ She said, her cheeks flushed as she realised that she was still wearing a satin nightgown. His eyes lingered on her body and he cleared his throat, ‘Good morning.’ She flushed even more, ‘Oh, good morning. Would you mind coming in? I have to do something.’ He stepped in after tossing out the cigarette butt. ‘Give me a sec.’ Then she hurried to her room and put on a dressing gown.

‘Hmm, you are naughtier than me y/n.’ Daisy said happily as she eyed Tommy. ‘It’s not what it looks like Daisy.’ She turned to Tommy and whispered, ‘’m sorry. Hangover.’ He nodded and she went to give her friend some bread. ‘You suck at preparing breakfast.’ Daisy said and earned a glance from her, ‘Then go eat outside, eh? That’s what I do.’ Daisy laughed loudly, ‘And that’s what your latest meal looks like? I need to be fair, looks delicious.’ With her friend’s words y/n’s face became red, ‘Thomas, can you wait for me in my room, please? The second one from the left.’

He cracked a smile and walked away, opening the door as he heard Daisy’s voice once again, ‘Nice butt by the way!’ Then he heard y/n’s shouting, ‘Could you please shut your mouth for god’s sake?’ He closed the door and glanced around, the room was big enough. One of the walls were covered with bookcases and they were full of books. Tommy guessed she’d have books but he wasn’t expecting that much. There were a wardrobe and a dresser with a mirror. The bed was large and looking so comfortable, Tommy wouldn’t say no to getting inside these clean sheets. There was a nightstand beside the bed, with a large book on it. 

A huge armchair was near to the bookshelves, it was probably for reading. Then he saw a wooden desk with books and some other things on it, it was in front of the windows. The curtains were wide open and the room was light-well. He walked to the table and saw the notebooks and pens. One of the notebooks was open on the table, with a pen next to it. Tommy knew it wasn’t right but he couldn’t help but be curious and listened to the voices in the house, guaranteeing she’s not coming yet. Then he started to read the last page, today’s date was written on it.

‘Who are you really, and what were you before? What did you do and what did you think?’ I can’t find them anywhere, I searched all night. But I can’t stop thinking about him. Who is he, what has he done? I’d be more than happier if I knew the answers. I know he did something, I can feel. I see it in his eyes, that eyes... They look ironically innocent and I think I’m losing myself in that ocean eyes. The ocean could be a nice definition for him, a deep ocean full of mysteries and secrets. Who is he?  

I like the fact that he isn’t like the rest. Not that I’m attractive or something, I can tell that he’s not a ‘ladies’ man’ by his looks. He’s like a book that I can’t read even how much I want. He looks mean, why? What he had been through, what did he deal with? His face is beautiful, but he looks like he is lost in memories. He looks but doesn’t see, his mind is somewhere else. Maybe I’m imagining all of these...Always trying to attribute more meaning to things, bad habit. 

Thomas was quite shocked by the sentences and he wanted to continue but he heard the footsteps. He started to look at the books, she found him in front of them when she opened the door. ‘Sorry for making you wait and... for Daisy’s words.’ Her voice sounded even softer to him this time. ‘I’m the one who came too early, and it’s normal she thinks like that.’ She came closer as he spoke, and looked at the books as Thomas looked at her. ‘I’m impressed. A young lady with all of these books.’

‘I’m almost twenty-seven. I don’t smoke, not a big fan of alcohol so this is where I spend my money.’ She smiled lightly and turned to him, finding the soft blues already looking at her. ‘Did you find our writer?’ Thomas asked, already knowing the answer. She glanced away, ‘No... But I didn’t have the time to search properly.’ He smiled, ‘It’s okay, you can inform me later.’ Of course, she wanted that. ‘I’ll start to look at some books, where can I find you and when?’ Thomas gave her the betting shop’s address and said seven o’clock.

‘Want to stay for a cup of tea?’ She offered as they go back to the kitchen. ‘I would love to, but have some business.’ She nodded and he walked to the door. ‘Goodbye, Thomas.’ A small smile curved his lips, ‘I’ll wait for you.’ Then she closed the door and saw Daisy’s smile, ‘He likes you!’ She screamed and y/n frowned, ‘Are you still drunk or what? Of course he doesn’t, the only reason we see each other is his brother’s homework.’ Daisy rolled her eyes, ‘You’re a fool but I’m not, y/n. It’s a stupid homework, who fucking cares? He was here because he wanted to see you again.’ Then she left the room, leaving y/n alone with her thoughts and a racing heart.

***

She spent all morning in her room, looking for the sentences but couldn’t find them anywhere. When the clock stroked two in the afternoon, she gave up, decided to get ready. She was going to see him and couldn’t help but feel excited. There was something about him that made her feel like she should be with him, in a romantic way or not. She didn’t want to get all dolled up for him so, she chose a simple, linen white dress. It wasn’t short or long, ended up on her knees. She had a snack and after brushing her teeth, she wore a cardigan and left the house.

It didn’t take her much time to find the place, she knocked on the door. A woman in her mid-forties opened the door, with a burning cigarette between her lips, ‘Who are you?’ It sounded a bit rude but she didn’t mind and tried to smile a little, ‘Afternoon, ma’am. I’m here for Thomas, I don’t know his surname actually.’ She listened to her and spoke after stopping for a minute, ‘Get in dear, you can find him in his office.’ y/n thanked her and stepped inside the house, searching for the office.

‘Wowow, who do we have ‘ere? Who are you beautiful?’ A man stopped her by holding her wrist, he was younger than Thomas but his eyes looked similar. ‘Let me go, I’m here for Thomas.’ He cracked a smile, ‘Why the fuck Tommy gets the prettiest ones, eh?’ Another man -he was clearly older than this man and Thomas- appeared, ‘Wanna hang out with me sometime, darling?’ He smiled and she gulped down, realizing he was drunk. The older man stepped closer to her as the other one still held her wrist until a harsh voice interrupted, ‘Get your fucking hands off of her, ay?’

The men stepped back and Thomas saw her, she was shaking a little. ‘She’s not who you thought she was. Now, fuck off, both of you.’ They seemed a little hurt but left the place, then he asked, ‘Are you alright? Come to my office, looks like you need a drink.’ She didn’t say anything and followed him, Thomas poured two glasses once they came in. She let the liquor burn her throat as she sat to the armchair. ‘Forgive me for my brothers’ behaviours. It’s being an awful day at work, I forgot you’ll come.’ He apologized again as she read the name on his table.

‘Oh, you are Thomas Shelby... Aren’t you?’ She was shocked and look at his face, waiting for an answer. ‘I couldn’t hide who I am forever, right? By the way, you heard of me?’ She laughed sarcastically, ‘Is it even possible to not hear of you? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?’ Thomas arched an eyebrow, ‘For what? To make you run away and never talk to me again? I know you heard the loose talk, y/n and I’m not gonna deny it. But I didn’t tell you because I wanted you to get to know me. I wanted you to know who is real Thomas Shelby, not believe in what other people say.’

‘Of course, you can leave now if you do-’ She cut him, ‘I wouldn’t run away, you know. If you were honest to me, I wouldn’t judge you. I still don’t.’ She glanced away and Thomas watched her, trying to understand if she was telling the truth. ‘I came here to say I couldn't find the sentences anywhere.’ He smiled at that, ‘I think now we both know that I don’t care, so is Finn. I just wanted to see you more.’ y/n blushed a little, ‘Good try, Mr Shelby. Good try.’ They both laughed this time as she stood up. ‘But you should try better for a date, right? I’ll be waiting for your call.’ Thomas’ face brightened, ‘I’ll ask you for a date you won’t be able to refuse, Miss Collins.’

Thomas called her the other day. It’s been a very long time since he went to a proper date, he was extremely nervous but she was there to comfort him. They enjoyed their time and the dates went on. She realised Tommy was the one for her when he came into her house two in the morning, just give her a book she was talking about previously. He wasn’t a fan of reading, especially novels, but he took it as his duty to read her favourites, so they could talk about them. The Shelby family loved her, especially Ada and Polly. Ada was happy she finally found someone to talk with, about everything.

It was a normal evening when Tommy took her out to dinner, the two of them were smiling happily. He looked at her and took a breath, finally ready to speak. ‘I need to tell you something.’ She left the fork and looked at him directly, losing herself in that piercing blue eyes. ‘I’m listening.’ She waited for him to continue. ‘Remember that sentences I read that night? The ones you searched up for.’ Of course she remembered, he smiled a little when she nodded. ‘The truth is, they weren’t written there.’ Her brows arched with curiosity, ‘What?’

‘I made up them.’ He stopped and looked at y/n, knowing she’ll ask the reason. ‘Why would you do that?’ His smile appeared again as his heart melted, ‘Because I didn’t want you to leave and they were my questions for you.’ Her lips parted and she blinked, he knew she wouldn’t be angry. ‘So... You’ve got your answers now?’ y/n asked and smiled, he wanted to leave there and kiss her all night. ‘Oh, I got my answers. But the thing is... I have new questions for you.’ She laughed at that and he felt comfortable with the sound she made while laughing. ‘Then ask.’

She was expecting him to ask questions about work or her past, not that. Thomas stood up and walked to her, taking a red velvet box from his pocket and kneeled down in front of her. ‘Well, I found and memorized enough quotes to impress you but I won’t do that. I’m probably the most fucked up man you’ve seen in your life and you deserve much better than me. But I have to confess, y/n. You’re the only one who brightens my life, your presence is the only reason I woke up in the mornings. So you, y/n Collins, will you do that? Will you help me to live my life like I’m in a book? Will you marry me?’

y/n was speechless, shedding tears of joy. She looked at baby blues, knowing they'll be the first things she’s going to see every morning. ‘Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you!’ She said happily and let him put the ring on her finger, then kissed him like there was no tomorrow. The rest followed; engagement, marriage and all... She started to work for the Shelby company but he made her promise to write also. One morning in the bed, Thomas asked how was it going. ‘Oh, I have an idea.’ Thomas asked what was it. ‘I’ll write about you, Tommy.’

He smiled but saw his wife was serious, ‘Don’t do that.’ She frowned and turned to him, ‘Why’s that?’ Thomas thought for a while and spoke, ‘Write about us, not me.’ The new idea gained her appreciation, ‘Why not?’ She was going to tell him her thoughts but Thomas prevented this with leaving soft kisses to her neck, she was starving for his touch now. y/n made herself a cup of coffee when her husband left for work, she had a day-off. She went to her snuggery, taking the pen and opening her new notebook. She looked at the photo on her desk, the one from their wedding. She started to write from the beginning.

[keichanz]

Move Your Body || pt. 3

@akiza-hades-rose

if you wanna be tagged, lemme know.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

When Kagome entered the studio the following night at approximately 7 pm, already a little flushed and sweaty from Sango’s hour long session, the first thing Inuyasha noticed that instead of the baggy t-shirt he was half-expecting her to show up in, she’d donned a plain white camisole instead. It was definitely an improvement, since it was clingy and contoured to her figure, though if he were being honest Inuyasha much preferred her in nothing but the spandex shorts and sports bra from before.

And she must have read his thoughts from the way he was eyeing her outfight critically and she stopped to send him a narrowed eyed stare, a clear challenge to just try and make her remove it.

He grumbled but finally gave a nod of approval and instantly she brightened, all smiles and fairly skipping the rest of the way into the room toward where he stood at the table, donned in jersey shorts, a black muscle shirt, and comfortable sneakers.

“Hi,” she chirped, setting her bag on the table and gracing him with a brilliant smile.

Inuyasha cocked a brow at her but couldn’t stop his lips from twitching as he flicked his gaze back to his phone.

“Hey,” he returned. “How was Sango’s class?”

“Great!”

Her enthusiastic response prompted him to once more lift his gaze, wondering what could possibly have her so chipper. Then he watched in something akin to baffled amusement as Kagome dropped into a fighting stance and started punching the air, shifting her feet like a boxer would and then he had to wonder if she’d taken one of Sango’s kick-boxing classes.

“It’s got me pumped!” Kagome continued, striking the air again and again as she duked it out with an invisible opponent. Then she ruined her tough-girl appearance by giggling and Inuyasha had to grin that time.

“You’re a nut,” he told her, shaking his head, and only received more giggles in response. “Alright, smiley, what’s got you so eager and willing for me to work your ass off tonight, huh?”

He crossed his arms and leaned a hip against the table, glad that she seemed so excited, but also genuinely curious for this particular mood. He found that he liked her like this, smiling and laughing and ready to do whatever it takes to meet her goal.

Kagome smiled mysteriously and then shifted her eyes behind him, noting for the first time the cooler that sat at the end of the long table. Making a noise of delight she skipped on over and opened the lid to investigate, pleased to discover that it was filled with ice cold water bottles, various sports drinks, and healthy snacks like fruit and yogurt.

Happily claiming a banana, she let the lid fall close and turned around, humming under her breath as she peeled her treat, dumped the peel in the trash and took a bite. As she munched her eyes connected with Inuyasha’s again and the look he was giving her plainly read “really?”

She blinked, swallowed, and smiled again.

“Who said you can eat my bananas?” he joked and nearly had her choking on her next bite as she tried not to laugh. He hadn’t intended for it to sound at all racy and was glad she hadn’t taken it that way.

“I’m curious, babydoll,” he said after she’d recovered, letting a new snickers escape around mouthfuls. “Not that I mind of course, but seriously, what’s got you so chipper tonight, huh? Or at you just that happy to see me?”

Inuyasha smirked and waggled his brows, to which Kagome rolled her eyes at but was unable to keep from smiling.

“Oh,” she murmured, gaze drifting to the side as she clasped he hands behind in her and rocked back and forth on her feet. “No reason...”

Inuyasha snorted. “Yeah, bullshit. Alright, c’mon, babydoll, ‘fess up. We ain’t got all night, I actually a tentative schedule tonight.” He rolled his hand, an impatient gesture to get on with it, and after another few seconds of staling Kagome cracked.

“Okay, okay,” she gave in with a soft laugh, blue eyes bright and her smile a mile wide. “It could be completely unrelated, but I saw Kamlyn today for the first time since signing up for the competition, and she looked so mad!”

She made a little high-pitched noise of excitement and did a little shimmy that Inuyasha found entirely too adorable. Though amused that the bitch was apparently still pissed about his rejection from yesterday, he derived even more enjoyment from Kagome’s enjoyment. It was such a small thing, and yet she got so much happiness out of it, and the thought that he had, in a roundabout way, caused that happiness caused something warm to bloom in his chest and gradually spread outward.

Before he could act on the strange feeling welling up inside him and do something stupid – like reach out and take her into his arms like he very suddenly wanted to – Kagome stopped bouncing around and faced him fully, and though her smile hadn’t vanished it gentled and her ocean eyes shone with sincere gratitude.

“I know it’s silly, but,” she began, a soft blush coloring her cheeks a gentle rose, “thank you, Inuyasha. And I’m sorry. You know, for...automatically assuming you’d agree to help her.”

She shrugged and looked away, suddenly a little shy and embarrassed, but a gentle touch to her chin brought her gaze back to his and her eyes widened.

“You’re welcome,” he rumbled, the intensity in his eyes making her breath catch. “And don’t worry about it. I said you’d have all my free time, Kagome. And I meant it.”

Then daringly he brushed his thumb across the softness of her bottom lip and watched as her face flamed and those midnight eyes grow very wide. He wasn’t surprised when she ducked away from his touch, bowing her head and taking a step back while avoiding his gaze.

Letting his hand drop, Inuyasha swallowed a sigh and grinned instead, trying to lighten the mood a bit by teasing her, “You just wanted me all to yourself, didn’t you, babydoll?”

His golden eyes gleamed wickedly as Kagome squeaked and then promptly hid her red face in her hands, shaking her head in avid denial.

His grin widened. “Didn’t wanna share me? Jealous?”

“Inuyashaaaaa,” she protested, her face rivaling that of a tomato by now but he could see the smile behind her hands, the way it curled her mouth upward as her shoulders shook in silent laughter.

Chuckling, Inuyasha held his hands up. “Alright, alright,” be conceded and then to spare her any further embarrassment changed the subject. “Do you have your schedule I asked for?”

Grateful for the subject change, she lowered her hands and sent him a small, thankful smile before going over to her bag and digging around inside to retrieve the requested paper. He’d asked for a copy earlier today via text so he’d know when not to bother her during class.

Kagome pulled it from the notebook she’d stashed it in and handed it over, taking a moment to check her phone for anything she might have missed while he looked it over.

“Christ,” Inuyasha muttered after a minute, frowning down at the piece of paper in his hand. “Do you ever have time to eat? Or, you know, breathe?”

She shrugged, her smiling seeming to say, “what can ya do?”

Inuyasha narrowed his eyes at her. “Have you eaten today?”

Kagome blinked at him then smiled. “Um...yes.”

His suspicion mounted. “Banana notwithstanding.”

Kagome thought about it, her gaze drifting to the ceiling.

“...I passed the dining hall and smelled pizza—”

His glare cut her off and wordlessly he pointed to the cooler.

Kagome pouted and crossed her arms. “It’s not that big of a deal, I’m—”

“Now, Kagome.”

“Yes, mom,” Kagome grumbled and did as she was told, stalking past him to once more dig around the cooler and retrieving an apple and another banana.

Unfazed, Inuyasha folded up her schedule and tucked it away into his shorts pocket. Kagome was mulishly nibbling away on an apple and he felt better now that she was getting some food in her stomach after evidently not eating anything all day. Some of his anger diminished and he sighed, raising a clawed hand to thrust through his short hair.

“You can’t skip meals like this, especially when you’re gonna be burning calories like no tomorrow.” He shook his head. “Where the hell is your common sense? You’re going to school to be a nurse, babydoll, you should know this.”

Inuyasha frowned at her, the disapproval clear in his stare, and Kagome swallowed before emitting a sigh and wrinkling her nose, looking appropriately contrite.

“Wednesdays are my busiest days,” she mumbled, making a face. “And I was gonna get something to eat after I was done with Sango’s class, but then I remembered I was supposed to come up here and didn’t have time.”

“Then fucking text me you’re gonna be late and get yourself some dinner, dammit,” he snapped, his concern for her health temporarily making him forget his earlier promise to show some restraint when it came to her. “I don’t care if you’re gonna be a little late if it means you’re taking care of yourself.”

Avoiding his gaze, Kagome shrunk in on herself and picked at the peel of the banana in her hand. Okay, maybe it had been stupid, but he didn’t need to blow up like that. She usually did get food right around this time, but she’d just...been really excited about tonight’s session with him and hadn’t wanted to waste precious minutes getting food.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, fighting back the ridiculous urge to cry. “I was just...excited to be here. It won’t happen again.”

And just like that, Inuyasha felt like the world’s biggest ass and all anger instantly evaporated to be replaced by guilt. Ahh…fuck. He’d single-handedly ruined her earlier good mood because he’d allowed the nutritionist side of him to freak the hell out and now she was drawing back into her shell, hiding herself and it was his own damn fault. Even with the realization that his concern stemmed from the irrational fear that she was skipping meals because she didn’t want to go back to being chubby, it still didn’t excuse him blowing up at her for something so trivial. And it wasn’t like they were going to do any hard work tonight anyway.

Shit. Now he doubly felt like an ass. Goddammit.

“Kagome...fuck, I’m sorry,” he said and rubbed his forehead, knowing it was weak, but not knowing what else to do. “I didn’t mean to go off like that, I just...”

He sighed, grimaced, and then admitted in a mumble, “I got worried, aright? This sorta thing takes up a lot of energy, y’know, the kind you get from eating, and I don’t wanna see you get sick. Sometimes I can be a colossal ass and I don’t think before I speak and more often than not I end up shoving my foot in my mouth and saying the wrong thing. So...sorry.”

When Kagome didn’t say anything, Inuyasha dared to lift his gaze...and found her staring at him, blue eyes suspiciously bright and a trembling but genuine smile curving her lips upward.

Inuyasha faltered. What the—

“You know,” she began softly and there was a note of mirth to her tone that he did not miss. “You could have stopped after you said sorry the first time.” Her smile widened a tad. “But I appreciate the explanation, Inuyasha. Apology accepted.”

Inuyasha stared at her as incredulity slowly overwhelmed all previous guilt and he simply gaped for a moment, disbelief clear on his face.

Before he could stop himself, he blurted, “Then why the hell didn’t you—”

Kagome giggled and immediately stifled it by biting down on her lip and looking away, a flush riding high on her cheeks.

Realization dawned and he groaned. “You just wanted to see me sweat, didn’t you?”

“Well,” she giggled and cast a sidelong glance at him. “You did kind of deserve it.”

He gave her a deadpan stare. “Touché,” he mumbled and when she giggled again, he sighed and quirked a grin.

“Alright, smartass,” he teased and reached over to grasp her arm and tug her closer. Surprisingly she went willingly, allowing him to snake an arm around her shoulders and squeeze her in a half-hug. She blushed and ducked her head, but he saw her smile.

“After today don’t worry about leaving to get something to eat after you’re done downstairs and then coming here. I’ll buy you dinner every Wednesday, or any other day you don’t have time. Anything you want. And I know I don’t have to,” he told her before she could interrupt and smirked at her pout. “Think of it as my way of making it up to you for being a giant ass. Deal?”

Kagome considered him for a moment, deliberately making him wait – cheeky little thing, wasn’t she? – and then she smiled and suddenly Inuyasha could breathe a little easier.

He breathed an inward sigh of relief. “Good,” he rumbled and then dropped a kiss to the top of her head – why, he had no idea – before releasing her and gesturing to her forgotten fruit.

“Eat up, and then we’ll begin.”

“Is it too late for you to buy me dinner? Because I could really go for some—”

“Kagome.”

She giggled and crunched into her apple.  

Rolling his eyes, Inuyasha retaliated to her cheek by snatching her apple and taking a huge bite out of it before handing it back and promptly kneeling at her feet, ignoring her protest gasped protest.

“You thief! Uh, what are you doing?” she asked when he started plucking at the laces of her sneaker and loosening them enough so he could slip it off her foot along with her sock. She squeaked and caught herself on his shoulder with a hand and could only watch in bemusement as he did the same with the other.

“We have a limited amount of time,” Inuyasha replied, tossing her shoe and sock to join the other under the table where they were out of the way. “So I figured it’d be best to get you used it to now as opposed to later so you don’t fall and break an ankle when you use the real thing.”

Kagome shivered when her bare feet met the cool polished wood of the floor and she blinked at him.

“Real thing?”

Straightening, Inuyasha cocked a brow and drawled, “You didn’t think you’d be performing your dance in sneakers, did you?”

Kagome titled her head a little with a slight frown as she tried to understand what he meant, but then it hit her out of nowhere and her eyes widened as a soft gasp escaped her mouth. She blanched and stared at him with something akin to horror, really, really hoping he was joking.

“Oh, no—please tell you don’t mean—”

Inuyasha’s wicked smirk cut her off.

“Heels up, babydoll. Are you comfortable with five inches?”

One hour later...

“Heels up, Kagome!”

“They are up!”

“More than an inch.”

With a groan and a downright dirty look directed Inuyasha’s way, Kagome reluctantly did as she was bade and forced herself higher onto her toes, wincing when her sore feet protested and the pads twinged in pain. She realized it really wasn’t much different than wearing actual heels, but the arches not having any support made it a little more difficult. Plus Kagome had never worn heels in her life, which definitely didn’t make this any easier. Good god, but why did women subject themselves to this torture?! Willingly?!

“Spin.”

Huffing, Kagome spun and managed to keep her heels raised.

“Good. Drop.”

She dropped, balancing on the pads of her feet briefly before shooting back up and automatically throwing her weight backward into a dramatic dip that flung her hair and thrust out her chest.

Inuyasha nodded in approval. “Great, babydoll. Knees bent—good, now slide forward, right foot first—heels up.”

Kagome whined and Inuyasha’s phone lit up with an incoming call, the music automatically pausing to let the call come in.

Big blue eyes looked at him pleadingly and Inuyasha gave in. “Take a break,” he told her, a small grin curving his lips. “You deserve it.”

Instantly Kagome dropped her heels and made a noise of relief before promptly collapsing onto the floor and laying flat on her back, needing to take the pressure off of her aching feet for even a little bit. The polished wood of the floor was cool against her heated skin and she closed her eyes, soaking it in.

Inuyasha gave her an amused glance as he passed her and snatched up his phone, glimpsing the screen before swiping his thumb and holding it to his face.

“Hey, you,” he greeted fondly and tucked the mobile between his head and shoulder before wordlessly reaching down toward Kagome and wiggling his fingers. “What’s up?”

“I love you.”            

Inuyasha rolled his eyes and gestured for Kagome to grab his hands when all she did was stare blankly up at him from the floor.

“Whaddaya need, Peach?” His voice was slightly exasperated, already having a good idea what she was calling for.

As Kagome made a sound of protest but reached up to grab his hands anyway, the female voice on the other end of the phone crooned, “I’m so sorry, Sha, but I won’t be able to make it this weekend for the demo. I know I said I’d be there, but Suikotsu’s conference got extended until Sunday and he asked me to stay.”

The pleading note to her voice was clear as day and Inuyasha could picture her face, big brown eyes wide, exaggerated pout, and her nose scrunched up. He never understood how she was able to give him the damn Puppy Pout when she was halfway across the fucking world, but there you have it.

Sighing, Inuyasha gently clasped Kagome’s hands in his own and hauled her upright.

“When’s your flight?” he asked, his tone resigned and dropped his hands to Kagome’s waist before promptly lifting her up and setting her on the table. She made a cute little noise of surprise and blinked curiously at him.

He could hear the smile in her voice as she replied, “Early Monday morning so I should be home around five that evening.”

She paused, then, “Are you sure? I mean, if you really need me to be there you know Sui will understand...”

He had to smile at that. “Nah, don’t worry about it, Peach. I’m sure Kagura won’t mind coming with; you know she loves L.A. and jumps at any chance to gamble away the asshole’s money.”

“What about getting smashed and trying to sell her lingerie? That she was still wearing?”

Inuyasha snorted in acknowledgment, lifting one of Kagome’s feet and carefully massaging the sore muscles with experienced hands. Kagome gasped, flushed, but then hummed in pleasure as her eyes drifted close and a dreamy smile spread across her face. He grinned.

“Thanks, Pooch,” his dear friend said softly, voice ringing with sincerity. “I really do appreciate it, especially since it’s been scheduled for like, two months. Has anyone ever told you you’re like, the best boss ever? And the sexiest?”

“Kiss ass.”

“Well, somebody has to. Your boyfriend’s been kissing mine for the past week, I’m sure yours ain’t getting any action.”

Inuyasha released a bark of laughter, shaking his head at Kagome’s inquisitive head tilt and switching to her other foot; she gave him a weird look but decided to brush it off and closed her eyes again.

“Tell him when he’s done licking peaches, I got all the meat he needs right here.”

The look Kagome gave him after that particular statement had him biting back another laugh and again he shook his head, not without a grin. A soft snort sounded on the other end and then, “Babe, your boyfriend says when you’re done licking peaches, he’s got all the meat you need right here.”

There was a pause and then Inuyasha’s sensitive hearing picked up the hollered reply from a familiar male voice before it was relayed.

“He says, ‘kiss, kiss, bitch.’”

They both shared a laugh at that, the running gag between them being that Inuyasha was having a not so secret affair with her husband and his wife just went along with it “as long as she gets to watch.” The gag never got old, and the couple was included in the limited circle of his closest friends. He was grateful to have them in his life, along with a certain blue-eyed beauty that had the prettiest smile.

“Seriously, Pooch,” she began, the smile audible in her voice. “Thank you. I promise I’ll make it up to you. Start thinking on it and let me know when I get back?”

Inuyasha smiled, about to reply that she didn’t owe him anything, but then paused and flicked his gaze down at the woman sprawled across the table, having given up on understanding their conversation and smiling dreamily.

“Actually, Peach,” he murmured, his mouth kicking up into a fond grin when ocean eyes fluttered open and connected with rich honey. “I already know exactly how you can make it up to me.”

Part 4

buy me a coffee? :)

[mattygraygubler]

our campus: chapter 2 (tom holland fanfic)

summary: frat!tom and reader go to the same college and y/n is tasked with being his tutor, they don’t really get along at first (because i love reader and tom hating each other trope)

warnings: none???

word count: 2.3k

a/n: bold is texts, any ***s refer to the footnote at the end of the chapter, this one is a shit ton of dialogue and texts, sorry bout it

for a list of characters click here

to be added to the tag list send me an ask !

masterlist

✰✰✰✰✰

“Drink some green juice, Y/N,” Isabelle said, handing you a to go cup from Jamba Juice. Isabelle never drank enough to have a bad hangover, so when you all slept in on Sunday, she went out to get hangover cures. After two nights of parties, it was insane that she was still completely fine. 

You had a queen size inflatable mattress on your floor, so the four of you were able to sleep as comfortably as possible in a not-so-large dorm room. You complained for a while at first, saying you should have just gotten an apartment, but it was too late. Next year. 

“Y’all wanna go to starbs and study?” Emily asked. Ally groaned, putting her head under her pillow. 

“No. I gotta shower and then eventually go to a theater thing.” She responded, slightly muffled. 

“I am also going to shower, and then try to do some of my justice and law readings and then I have to go tutor that Thomas kid.” “Ooooo please text updates!” “Emily, it is literally like tutoring anyone else, I really doubt he’s cute.” You responded. “Whatever,” she said with a smile. Your friends filed out and you took your time with a long shower.

When you got out, you realized it was already 2:30, and most of the day was gone. You put on some ripped black jeans and a shirt from urban outfitters, quickly did some makeup, threw on your sneakers and were out the door, headed to the library. 

“Y/N!” You heard the second you walked into the library. 

“Hi Kyle,” You said and smiled as he fell into step with you. 

“We missed you this weekend,” he said, referring to his fraternity, delta chi’s party. 

“Sorry, I was outvoted.” You said with a small smile. Kyle was a hottie, but incredibly bright. You befriended each other in a math class freshman year, he invited you to dchi parties, and you were now on the short list to be their sweetheart.*

“Well don’t get out voted next time! C’mon, if Jamie is sweetheart I’ll die, and if you don’t come to parties, we can’t elect you sweetheart.” Jamie had broken Kyle’s heart at the end of freshman year, and her, along with one other girl were also contending to be sweetheart. 

“Ugh you drive me insane.” You responded, rubbing your temples. 

“In the best way,” he said and kissed your forehead before walking to the back of the lib. 

You had reached the glass doors to the honor’s lab, basically a wing of the library where honors students studied and hung out in between classes, during meals, whenever. It had “Honors College” written across the doors in black painted letters. 

You pushed open the doors, saying hi to people as you walked towards an empty table. You took a seat facing the doors, so you could see anyone who didn’t belong. 

It was an honor system, no one would be penalized if they tried to sit in the honors lab without being apart of the honors college, but you would get a lot of incredibly nasty looks from some very smart kids. It only happened during fraternity pledge season, when frat boys were hazed and dared to do stupid shit, like have a sit-in in the honors lab.

There weren’t a ton of kids in the honors college, so you all formed sort of a little family. Everyone got along (for the most part), and helped out with difficult assignments. 

Pretty soon, you were encompassed in your law readings, not fully catching on why Fear v. Minnesota was so important. 

“So what’s a gorgeous girl like you doing in a dump like this?” You heard a british voice ask. You looked up to see a boy with brown eyes and slightly curly hair leaning on the table. Clearly attempting to put the moves on you. 

“Dump?” You asked. 

“You heard me, baby,” he said. 

“Well it is very clear that you are not a member of the honors college-”

“And you are?” He asked, a cocky smirk on his face. 

“I am, yes.” He became red. 

“I’m Y/N, I don’t care what your name is, but unless you have a reason to be here, I’d leave before Paul pummels the shit out of you.” You said. You nodded your head to the left, where Paul and two sophomores were standing, arms crossed, clearly incredibly upset that this outsider was here. 

“Wait, did you say your name was Y/N?” He said, looking back at you. 

“Yes…” 

“I’m Tom.” You looked confused. “Holland? You’re supposed to tutor me?” Your eyes widened with the realization. 

“Thomas,” you muttered. He laughed. 

“Darling, the only times I hear that are when a professor is calling on me, or a girl is yelling my name in bed.”

Ok, who the fuck was this kid? 

“I’m gonna move on from that sentence.” You said and gestured to the seat across from you. A text popped up on your phone, in the honors college junior’s group chat. 

hc* jnrs ⋛

Paul

Ok who the fuck let tom holland in here

Jessie

he’d need at least triple the amount of brain cells he has to just find the doors

You actively laughed out loud at that text and looked at jessie, who was now standing with Paul. Paul laughed as he waved to you, and Jessie just winked. 

“Something funny?” He asked as he pulled his laptop out. 

“Just a funny text. You can put that away and grab your notebooks, by the way.” You said as you texted back. 

You

gronk asked me to tutor him

what’s the big deal? you guys know him?

Lindsay

i’m sorry im home rn, did someone say tom holland? 

Paul

Y/N’s tutoring him so he came into hlab, didnt realize she was his tutor, and hit on her

Leila

LMAOOOOO

Jake

THOLLAND IN THE HLAB IM SHITTING MYSELF

Lindsay

he hit on Y/N? poor bastard doesnt know what hes in for

You

do you guys know something about this kid i dont? 

You finally looked up from your phone to see Tom sitting there, empty handed, staring at you. 

“Where’s your notebooks?” You ask. 

“Uhm, I don’t have any. I just use my laptop.” 

“Ok your homework tonight is going out and getting notebooks for all your classes.” 

“Really? You’re giving me homework?” You raised your eyebrows. 

“When I tutor kids,” he winced when you said kids, “I have some ground rules. You break a rule, I stop tutoring you. No second chances, no redos. Got it?” “Got it.” He said, holding back a smile. 

“Something funny?” “No, no, please, tell me about these rules. I must warn you, I have always been a rule breaker.” He winked and you simply rolled your eyes. 

“This isn’t a game, Holland.” You said. The smile left his face. “Rule one is you follow all the rules. Rule two, if you break a rule, we’re done, no exceptions. Rule three, if I give you homework, you do it. Rule four don’t be late. And finally, I am adding a rule five just for you.” You said, writing each rule down on a piece of paper which you handed to him. He laughed. 

“Problem?” You asked. 

“I’ve never had a woman…” 

“What? Reject you before?” He was obviously referring to rule five, which was do not hit on me ever again. 

“Listen, darling, I was just surprised is all. I didn’t expect someone so beautiful to be part of the nerd brigade.” 

“Do I need to add another rule about you not making fun of my friends?” 

“No, no, I apologize.” He said with that cocky grin still on his face. 

“Pull out your planner.” You said. 

“My what?”

“Right, you’re a brit. Pull out your diary.”

“Oh I don’t use one, sweetheart. Got this great thing up here,” he said, tapping his head. “Keeps everything sorted out.” 

“Well clearly that’s not true or you wouldn’t be missing assignments.” He shrugged. 

“I didn’t forget about them, just chose not to do them.” “So your story is that you’re choosing to fail your classes and risk expulsion?” He just shrugged again. 

You pulled out a notepad and started a list. 

Buy notebooks for every class

Download a planner (diary) app on your computer

Make a list of all assignments (including readings) due within the next week

“I’m going to need a copy of your schedule.” 

“You know, babe, usually we schedule the date after I ask you out.” 

“Look at you, five minutes in and you’ve already broken rule five.”

“You can’t honestly expect me to follow rule five when you’re this attractive.” You gave him a cold stare, and started packing up your stuff. 

“Wait, wait, Y/N, I’m sorry. I’ll try not to do it again.” You paused and raised your eyebrows dangerously at him. “Correction, I won’t do it again.”

“Good. Now I want a copy of your schedule and syllabi. What’s your schedule like tomorrow?”

“I have rehearsal until nine. After that I’m all yours.”

“I have a sorority event until nine, you can meet me here at nine fifteen.” 

“You’re in a sorority?”

“You’re surprised?” You asked. 

“Which one?”

“Delta Nu*.” 

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Why are you so surprised?” 

“That’s, like, the highest tier on campus.”

“Sororities aren’t a hierarchy, anyone who tells you different is fucking with you.” You said as you gathered your stuff. You didn’t have time for his anti-panhellenic bullshit.

“Hlab. Tomorrow. Nine. Don’t be late, and do your homework.” You said. “Oh, one more thing.” You handed him your phone, opening up a new contact. He raised his eyebrows, and you raised yours back, daring him to make a comment. He didn’t simply handed you his phone so you could enter your information. 

You walked straight out of the lib, leaving Tom in your wake. Kyle saw you leaving, gathered up his stuff and shouted “Y/N! Hey, wait up!” You paused, waiting for him to catch up. 

“Can I walk you home?” 

“You don’t have to do that, Ky.” 

“I want to. I was just about to leave anyway.” You smiled as you and Kyle left the library, headed across the quad towards the junior dorms.

It was a short walk before you reached your dorm, Kyle heading to Heart Hall directly next to your building. 

“See you tomorrow?” he asked. You smiled and waved. 

Once you were back in your room, you paused realizing you had nearly twenty missed texts. 

♡girly girls♡

Al

Y/N we need to know his last name so i can get the dirt on the right person 

Em

and Y/N i need to know RIGHT THIS SECOND if he was cute

Iz

guys shes still tutoring her, let her phone be and she’ll facetime us later and answer all your dumb questions

You replied, saying you were tired and you would meet them for lunch in the cafeteria in your building like usual. 

hc jnrs ⋛

Jake

How has Y/N not heard of him shes in a diff frat every weekend

Cassy

Jake please tell me i didnt just detect judgement in your jargon

Jake

Cassy please tell me you didnt just use jargon in a text message

Jessie

jake does make a good point im shocked Y/N doesnt know about him 

Leila

WHATEVS I NEED AN UPDATE

Is she still with him/???

Jessie

Yup but she looks like shes about to punch him

Paul 

If she doesnt, i will

Jessie

shush paul girl can take care of herself

ok looks like shes packing up 

Leila

Y/N!! i NEED an update

You 

i have not heard of him, no

whats his deal? besides being incredibly flirty and not reading my vibes, like, at all

Jessie

rumor has it he gave all the phi alpha’s chlamydia

Julia

as a proud phi alpha i just wanna drop in and say that he did fuck quite a few of us, but he gave none of us (and none of us have) chlamydia

Jessie

he def gave someone chlamydia tho

Paul

id believe it. hes a massive scumbag

Cassy

a HOT massive scumbag

Jake

-_-

Cassy

everyone in delt is hot

You

wait a sec, did you say hes in delt?!?!

max please confirm

Max

yeah hes in delt with me, so is that other brit that he came over here with us

Cassy

Harry!!!!!!!

Max

harrison** 

Y/N

wait harrison? i think he knows my friend emily

Max

well its not a huge campus, and emily does know everyone

Jessie

wait Y/N what was he like

You 

an asshole. im debating telling gronk i dont have time to tutor him

Julia

that wouldnt be very hc of you….

You

whatevs. Im finishing this near v minnesota reading then passing out. see you guys tomorrow

Jessie

KISSES!!!

Paul

you know jessie theres these awesome things call emojis

Cassy

paul do u ever stfu 

It wasn’t until you caught up with both group chats that you realized you still had unread messages. 

Tom Holland

is that your bf???

hes cute

didnt peg you for the monogomous type

hes in a frat right??

why arent u answering? too busy with ya boy 👀👀👀

You

do you bother all girls with annoying questions? not a cute look

Tom Holland

no such thing as a “not cute look” on me darling

you didn’t answer my question

It was at that point that you turned your alarms on, turned your phone on do not disturb, and plugged it in. Before long you were in bed, hoping for more sleep than you’ve gotten the past couple nights. 

*A sweetheart is a girl who is friends with all the boys in the fraternity, always goes to their parties, and acts kind of like a “mom”ish figure in a lot of their lives. Normally they’re a junior or senior and serve for one year. They’re essentially the female face of the frat. For a better definition click here.

*delta nu is not an actual sorority, i didnt want to alienate any orgs (i am a proud member of greek life if you couldnt tell) so i just used the fake one from legally blonde

*hc stands for honors college

[munsonthings86]

Journal Entry- (Grayson Dolan x Reader)

Summary: [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. She and I had been the closest pair of friends just about our whole lives. We had such a tight bond where it distinctly felt like we had an invisible force field protecting our relationship from ever faltering, that only we could see. You may have a question dancing around your mind along the lines of, “So why are we here? What could have possibly gone wrong?” You, my friend, are about to see just how unfair the universe is, when it comes to relationships like these.

Warnings: Cursing, angst, fluff, just an emotional rollercoaster like wow. And it’s long, but long imagines are good right?

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this imagine, I really love it, and I’m proud of it and I hope you all love it just as much! Love you guys!

Word Count: 3,081

[Grayson’s POV]

“Yes, this is him,” I spoke into the phone with a rather raspy voice, addressing the talent agent that called contacted me, so early in the morning. I listened closely to the offer that was seemingly important, as my eyes increasingly lit up at the older woman’s words. “Are you kidding? That’s sounds awesome,” I exclaimed already thinking of accepting the proposition without even consulting my twin brother, Ethan. 

“So, when would we have to leave?” I question, quickly realizing that this kind of opportunity wouldn’t allow for us to remain here in New Jersey. “Wow, really? I’ll have to talk to Ethan, of course, before I make any promises. So I’ll call you back soon,” I respond, feeling excited yet worried about what Ethan would have to say. 

I end the phone call and wander around the house, looking for my brother that would ultimately determine the general decision of whether we would be taking up the career changing offer or not. Finally spotting him in his bedroom scrolling away at his phone, he looks up at me upon my entrance that I made without knocking. 

“Did I say you could come in?,” he sarcastically asks, dropping his phone beside him. “Shut up and listen, this is serious,” I retort, pushing the blankets to the corner of the bed, to make room for myself to sit. 

“First of all, you come into my bedroom, WITHOUT knocking, then you tell me to shut up-”

“Okay, be quiet. We have a movie offer, Ethan. Yeah, a movie offer. This could change everything!,” I exclaimed, understandably ecstatic at the news. I watch as Ethan’s features morph into a shocked yet taken aback expression. 

“Dude, that’s insane! We get the chance to be in a movie and we get to stay in Jersey? This is perfect for us,” he says, playfully pushing my shoulder. My face soon falls into a frown as I notice that I left out a vital detail in my report to Ethan. “About that,” I begin, fumbling with my fingers. “We have to move out to Los Angeles if we wanna be a part of the production.”

“What? We have to move to L.A.? That’s across the whole freaking country. When do they expect us to leave?,” Ethan asks, with a panic-struck look sketched across his face. “They want us to move out there as soon as possible. The latest being next month-”

“Next month? A whole fucking movie deal, and they call us a month before it’s time to start getting shit in order? We’ve never gone so far away from here before. What about Mom and Dad? And Cameron?-”

“And Nolan?,” I interrupt, pushing forth my best effort to lighten and add humor to the situation. 

“Dude, this isn’t funny.” Ethan pauses, before widen his eyes as if he’s just had a fascinating realization. “Have you even told [Y/N], yet?”

My eyes widen, mimicking Ethan’s own, as the rest of my actions get held at a stand-still at the mention of her name. This whole time, I had been so captivated in the exhilaration of potentially being a part of something so major, that I had completely forgotten about my best friend, [Y/N]. 

If I left her, not only would she be heart broken, but so would I. She was the very first friend Ethan and I made. She’s an immense part of me that is going be hard to let go of once we- if we leave for L.A. 

“Holy shit, I haven’t even talked to her since I got the call. E, I can’t tell her. Do you know how hard that’s gonna be?,” I utter quickly, staring at the ground with sad eyes. 

“So, what you’re just not gonna tell her? You’re gonna jet off to L.A. without saying anything? That’s kind of fucked up, don't you think?,” Ethan asks, with furrowed eyebrows. Ethan did have a point. If we’re serious about moving to L.A., I have to tell [Y/N]. I wouldn’t be fair to her, to just pack a suitcase and hop on a plane and not say anything. 

“You’re right, I’m gonna toughen up and call her,” I say, grabbing my phone and beginning to walk back into my own bedroom. Before I can completely step out of the room, I hear Ethan call out, “Wow, I think this is the first time you’ve come into my room early in the morning for something important.” I rolled my eyes at his comment as I approach my bed, sitting down at the edge. Gently placing my finger down on her contact, my brain begins to contemplate between telling her or keeping quiet. 

As if my heart and my mind were at war between the two options, one of them being the obvious choice, my mind gets the better of me, figuring that what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

[One Month Later]

Pulling the light sweater over my torso, I look at myself in the mirror, making sure I looked presentable for my day out with [Y/N]. I originally planned on telling her about the upcoming movie the same day I found out, but I couldn’t bring myself to it. Weeks after weeks, I promised myself, “I’m gonna tell her today, I’m gonna tell her today”. Well, that didn’t exactly work out. Ethan and I leave for California in two days, and [Y/N] has no clue. 

I wasn’t even a little fond of basically lying to her for an entire month, I hated it. But today, I plan on making this day, the best day of her life and then later telling her that I was soon going to be gone. Was it the best plan ever? Hell no. But it wasn’t like I could just jump into a time machine and tell her sooner. This was the way it had to be. 

I spray cologne all over my body, and head into the living room where Ethan was sitting, playing video games as usual. He quickly glances over to me and questions, “Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna go hang out with [Y/N]. To spend some time before we have to say goodbye.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to ask you, how was the talk you guys had? How did she take it?,” Ethan says, barely looking away from his game.

I try to distract myself by fiddling with the ends of hair, speaking lowly, “Yeah, I didn’t tell her yet. I’m thinking of telling her today.” With that, Ethan quickly pauses the game in place and turns to me with a bewildered expression invading his usually relaxed features. 

“What do mean you didn’t tell her? How could you have waited this long? We leave in two days, Grayson. TWO D-.”

“Yes, Ethan, I get it. But anyway, I told you to pack your PlayStation, ‘cause you’re gonna forget it here,” I say pulling my shoes onto my feet. “I’m not gonna forget it, and speaking of packing, I found our old journals. Do you remember those old journals mom got for us a long time ago?,” Ethan says.

“Oh, yeah. She told us to write all of our goals and thoughts since we’re ‘developing young men’,” I reply, with air quotes. Ethan chuckles lightly as nods his head in my direction. “They’re behind you right there.” I turn around and see two small notebooks, immediately finding mine that had a small ‘G’ in the upper corner.

I quickly flip through, not remembering writing most of the entries that the book contained. I stop at one that I vividly remember writing. It was an entry about [Y/N]. I went on and on for pages talking about how much I truly loved her. I try my best to hide my sudden change in facial expression, not wanting Ethan to find out about what I wrote. 

But if I didn’t feel this way about [Y/N] anymore, why would I want to hide it? Am I still in love with [Y/N]? Shaking the thought out of my head, I place the journal back down, slightly pushing it behind a vase, hoping that Ethan wouldn’t find it. 

“Alright, I don’t wanna be late. I’ll see you later,” I state, shuffling out of the door.

[Restaurant]

“Thanks again for taking me out to breakfast, Gray. But can I ask why?,” [Y/N] asks, wiping her hands free of any crumbs that may have been left behind on her fingers. 

“What, I can’t treat my awesome best friend?,” I ask with a happy expression on my face, but a rather upset one in my mind. 

“No, no. I just wondering. I appreciate it, though,” she says, sweetly smiling at me. 

“Are you ready to go? We have a full day ahead of us,” I say, opening the check to begin paying for our food. “There’s more?,” she asks, her eyes widen.

“Of course there’s more.”

[Midnight]

I parked the car in front of her house, after our long day of activities, breathing out and sliding my hand off of the wheel. I look over at [Y/N] to see that she’s already looking at me with squinted eyes, studying my features. 

“What?”

“You’re up to something, Grayson. The only time you pull a stunt like this, is when you're trying to make up for something. So come on, spill it,” she says, turning her body in her seat, to fully face me. I turn my head to the left looking out of my window, as if I was looking for some escape out of this situation. 

“Dude, all I’m doing is enjoying quality time with my best friend, is that a crime?,” I lightly chuckle. “No, Grayson, ‘quality time with your best friend’ is coming over and playing video games. You took me to breakfast, took me shopping, went to amusement park, took me to dinner...You’re covering for something, and you’re gonna tell me.”

As much as I really didn’t want to tell her, I had to. I leave in two- well, tomorrow and there’s no time left to lie. It’s now or never.

“You’re too smart for you’re own good, you know that?,” I pause, “Listen, I’ve been avoiding this conversation for, you don’t want to know how long, and I’m just gonna rip it off like a band-aid because I've been keeping this to myself for ages...Ethan and I got an opportunity to play the main roles in a new movie.”

“Grayson, that’s amazing, why would you want to avoid telling me that? Did you think I’d get jealous or some-”

“We have to move out to Los Angeles.”

“When, in a couple months?,” she asks with concern, being evident in her voice. 

“...Tomorrow,” I say, so quietly, to the point where it was almost inaudible. Rather than a response, I hear the unbuckling of a seat belt, and the sound of the car door opening. “[Y/N], wait, please.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? You have to be joking. Grayson, there’s no way in hell that you’re leaving tomorrow. Tell me this is a joke,” she says, raising her voice, closing back the door.

“I should have told you, I know-”

“Yeah, you really should’ve. You spent this whole day, acting like everything was fine. Like you weren’t leaving tomorrow. How could you do that to me?,” she says, sitting back in her seat, with sadness yet an undeniable sense of anger in her voice. 

“You know, you sound really selfish right now. I just told you that I got a whole movie deal and you’re acting like this is about you. Be happy for me instead of complaining about me leaving tomorrow,” I demand, feeling irritated that she solely focused on the one negative angle of the situation.

“SELFISH? Sorry, Grayson that I’m not jumping for joy. My best friend just told me that he was flying across the goddamn country for, God knows how long, and he lied to me about. I’m so sorry for being so FUCKING SELFISH,” she says, with her voice wavering and tears pooling in her eyes. “How long have you known?”

“[Y/N], I-,” I begin, before she interrupts.

“No, how long have you known Grayson?,” she persists.

Shaking my head in shame, without daring to make eye contact, I breath out, “A month.” Before she responds with words, she lets out a sarcastic laugh and speaks, “A month. A MONTH. You’ve been lying to my face for a whole month. You didn’t say a thing to me. You waited until the DAY BEFORE to tell me. Do you know how unfair that is? I didn’t even get a chance to mentally prepare for you to leave.” 

A quiet sob is the last thing that her voice can manage to let out before she whispers a huge revelation with a pained voice. “You can’t do all this and expect me to be fine by the end of the night. You can’t make me fall in love with you and try to leave, it’s not fair.”

Quickly snapping my head to her direction, I look into her eyes, and I can tell she wasn’t joking or just saying that to make me want to stay. She appeared deeply hurt and it was my fault. I’m about to speak, before she cuts ahead. 

“We’ve been friends for fourteen years. Anything I needed, you were the first person who’d try and help me with it. You were there for me when no one else was. You’re everything I’ve ever needed, and to see you go-,” she stops herself, shaking her head and allowing tears to fall from her eyes, the thought of me leaving, which would soon become a reality, being too emotional for her to voice. 

“You’re in love with me?,” I ask, still baffled yet astonished at her mind-boggling disclosure, that completely changed the solemnity of the situation. She quickly shuts her eyes at my words, and reaches for the car door handle. “Just forget I said anything.”

“No, [Y/N]. Wait,” I reach for her wrist, but she’s quicker than me and soon reaches the front door, before I could finish speaking to her. “Fuck,” I whisper to myself, resting my back against my seat.

[The Next Morning] [Y/N’s POV]

I roll over onto my back, staring up at my blank ceiling. Even after crying all night last night, I still felt like letting more tears escape from my eyes. Grayson was leaving and there was no way of stopping him. But I shouldn’t be thinking of stopping him. This was his dream and I can’t do anything except support and be there for him. Maybe I am selfish.

My upsetting thoughts are rather thankfully pulled out of mind as I hear the doorbell to my house ring. Before I could get the chance to get out of bed, to see who it was, I get a text. From Grayson. I let out a loud sigh, reading the message: im outside. you can come talk to me if you want. if not, I get it. I have something that I forgot to give to you last night. i’ll call you when my flight lands.

I thought to myself that it wouldn’t be the best option to go see Grayson right now. Just thinking about him makes me want to cry, so who knows what I’ll do if I see him face to face. I couldn’t face him after what I said to him, there’s no way he loves me the way that I love him. Judging by the way he reacted last night, he probably just sees me as a little sister. 

Once again I hear my notification go off: my flight leaves in a little bit. i’ll come visit as soon as I can. 

I hear a car outside my window drive away. Assuming it was Grayson, I slowly get up and walk towards my front door, pulling it open slightly. I look around for any sight of Grayson, which I thankfully don’t find. I look down, a couple inches ahead of my feet, and I find a small lilac colored gift bag. My favorite color. I pick up the bag and make my way back into the house, towards the kitchen. 

Placing the bag on the counter, I look inside and find a small box and a couple pieces of folded paper that appear to have been ripped out of a notebook. I open the box first and find a necklace in the shape of half a heart with the letter ‘G’ engraved in the front. Assuming that Grayson had the other half of the heart with the first letter to my name, I smile to myself at his sweet and thoughtful gesture.

Unfolding the paper and reading the first couple of lines, I gasp out loud, amazed at what I read:

Entry #7

March 8, 2014

I’ve been doing a good job at keeping up with this journal thing. I thought I would’ve stopped after the second entry, but this is actually kind of relaxing to me. I don’t really have much to write about today, so I’ll just write about something always on my mind, rather than just what I did today. There’s this girl named [Y/N]. Where do I start with her? She’s one of the most amazing women I know. She’s the greatest friends anyone could ask for. She’s kind. She’s funny. She’s so smart. She’s painfully gorgeous. Her voice makes my heart do backflips. And her laugh. Man, her laugh is so beautiful. Whenever she touches me, I can still feel my skin tingling even minutes after she moves her hand back. Nobody in the world is perfect, but she makes perfect look so easy. Every time we hangout I try to find some flaw. Even the smallest thing. But I can’t find a thing. She’s my best friend but I can’t keep being just her best friend. I’m so in love with her, it hurts. She may never feel the same way about me but, hell, whether she’s my friend or my girlfriend, I’ll always love her. She’s beyond important to me and I don’t know what I’ll do if I lost her, Alright Mom’s calling me for dinner. I could go on and on about [Y/N] but I’m kind of hungry. Later.

-Gray

I stare at the letter, more specifically the date, as I feel tears well up in my eyes. I quickly fold the paper back to it’s original position, and pick up my phone to call Grayson.

[imaginezimbits]

Plzzzzzz pt3 of zimbits football!!!!! I love your writing!! It's soOOOOO GOOOOD!

Ask and you shall receive (eeeeeventually!)Read it on AO3

“Y’all go on and get now, I have orientation in the morning,” Eric scolded the lumbering football players clogging up his teeny dorm room.  His roommate, a perfectly nice seeming boy from Oregon, had disappeared shortly after the team’s arrival, and Eric couldn’t blame him.

“Fuck orientation,” Holster dismissed.  “You’ve been chilling with us for a year, what more do you need to know about the college experience?”  Eric put his hands on his hips.

“Maybe some people from my actual class?”

“Pft, whatever.  Rans and Shitty are gonna be in school forever with their majors; you’ll have plenty of people to do senior year with.”  Ransom made himself comfortable with Shitty on Eric’s bed.

“That’s right, brah,” Shitty agreed, welcoming the snuggles.  “You’ll never be rid of us.”

“Graduation is a myth,” Ransom added gravely.  “And bro, you can make all the friends you want.  You’re a freshman with invites already lined up for the sickest kegsters of the year.”

“If you do say so yourself,” Eric huffed.  “I admit, you boys make a strong argument, but I shudder to think what your fearless leader has to say about y’all encouraging me to shirk responsibility like this.”  He turned to the man in question only to find him twisting back and forth in the desk chair, nibbling on one of the peanut butter cookies Mrs. Bittle had sent to thank the boys for carrying all of “Dicky’s” boxes.

“Um.”  Jack looked between his friends, who were watching him expectantly.  He swallowed.  “Well, I mean, I was gonna ask if you wanted to hang out tomorrow since it’s the last day before classes.”

“Jack!” Eric cried over the boys’ boisterous cheers.  “You’re supposed to be the responsible adult here!”  Jack shrugged, tiny smile playing at his lips and winning Eric over easily.

“Well…they really don’t teach you anything useful…”

“So you figure you can talk me into another day of nonsense with this lot?”

“Was kinda hoping.”

“Well I suppose I could be persuaded to give up an afternoon of icebreakers and forced socialization.”

“Good.  I hear Annie’s has their Pumpkin Spice Lattes out early this year.  And the art theater is screening Goonies, so we were thinking of hitting that too.”

“How can I say no to that then?”

“Just meet us at the Haus at eleven tomorrow.”

“I’ll come at ten and we’ll make breakfast.”

“Deal.”  Eric nodded.  “Alright boys,” Jack said to the room at large, “let’s clear out, we scared Bittle’s roommate out long enough.” The boys all stood and followed Jack to the door, leaving Eric with hair ruffles and back pats.  Jack held his hand in a wave as he followed the end of the parade into the hallway, closing the door behind them.  Eric sat down hard on the bed, grinning broadly.

“Eric Richard Bittle, what on Earth do you mean you don’t know what happened at orientation?” Mrs. Bittle demanded over dinner - she’d made her son’s favorites to lure him home for a meal to extract details.  Eric stopped picking at his mashed potatoes and exchanged a panicked glance with his father over the rim of the sweet tea glass Coach was using to avoid having to chime in.

“Uh…Jack said it’s stupid?  And the guys were going to see Goonies?”

“Jack said, hmm?  And I suppose if Jack Zimmermann jumped off a bridge you might think that sounds mighty fine too?”  Coach put his glass down.

“Suzie,” he said, laying a gentle hand over hers and giving her a significant look.  Eric saw the realization dawn on his mother’s face, could practically hear the unspoken “breakdown” that hung in the air, but what was actually said was, “Jack is a responsible young man.  I think he and Junior’s other friends will see to it that he isn’t completely lost.”  Suzanne sighed.

“I suppose.  But Dicky, don’t you dare make a habit of skipping out on your responsibilities.”

“I promise, Mama, I will stay right on top of everything.”

And he did.  Between the Haus study group and the relative simplicity of his first semester classes, Eric was able to keep up with his studies.  Until the Midterms Kool-down Kegster, when, happily situated on top of one of the hockey players in the frat next door to the Haus, he remembered.

“Oh fuck!”  he sat up abruptly, hair askew and shirt rucked up.

“Dude, already?” the hockey bro asked, eyebrow raised.

“I have a paper due tomorrow,” Eric explained, already starting to extricate himself from the bed.

“Oh dude, that sucks the big one.”

“Sorry.  I uh, had fun?” Eric patted at the tuft of hair sticking up on the back of his head.

“Yeah, was good for me too,” the guy said blandly, already reaching into his pants.  By the time Eric was across the room pulling the door shut, hockey bro’s dick was out, his head flopped back against the pillow, as if Eric had never been there at all.  Well then, glad he’s not too heartbroken, he thought to himself and trudged down the stairs.

He stood outside the hockey house, staring at the Haus and feeling the street vibrate beneath his sneakers.  The party ball hastily duct taped to the living room ceiling lit the windows in a flashing array of rainbow.  The only light from upstairs came from Jack’s room.  His fingers slid across his phone screen before the decision was fully formed.

“Allo?”  The distracted greeting said Jack probably hadn’t checked his caller I.D.

“Hi Jack.” Eric paused.  “It’s Eric.”

“You don’t say.”

“I just did.”

“Are you okay?  Need me to come get you?”

“I’m okay.  Except I just remembered I forgot to write my paper for American History.”

“Bittle, it’s two a.m.”

“I am aware.  Jack, I just left mid-hookup for this, if you know anything at all about U.S. history, please come help me, otherwise fuck my grade I’m going back upstairs.”  The exasperated sigh was a protracted burst of static in his ear, but Jack relented.

“Okay, give me five to find my notebooks and some pants.  And know that you definitely owe me a batch of those homemade granola bars.”

“Anything.”

“Five minutes,” Jack promised, then promptly hung up.  

When he saw the light in Jack’s room go out, Eric stood up from the porch steps where he had been waiting.  It took another few minutes before the front door of the Haus opened to reveal Jack, backpack slung over his shoulder.  They met in the middle of the street and Jack gave a tired but fond grin in response to Eric’s grateful smile, and in mutual silent agreement, they made for Eric’s dorm.

The room was empty, so Eric texted his roommate that he’d gotten home okay and wished him a fun night when the roommate said, “Enjoy, see you after breakfast ;)”

“Well, looks like we got the place to ourselves for the duration,” Eric told Jack, trying not to sound like he could think of much better reasons than this stupid paper for him to want Jack alone.

“Good.” Jack made himself comfortable on Eric’s bed, kicking off his shoes and getting his notes and laptop set up.  “I brought reading to do while you’re writing, but I’ll help you outline and edit.”

“You are a saint.”

“I am an insomniac.  Believe me, this is going to be just as good for my sanity as yours.”

“Well alrighty, I guess I won’t feel too bad.”

“I still expect granola bars.” Jack winked.  Eric’s face burned, but he just focused on getting a blank document ready to go.  “So what’s this paper on, eh?”

“I have to write a few pages on a New Deal program and its immediate and long-term effects.”

As luck would have it, Jack knew a lot about the New Deal.  And he had more than enough feelings about it for Eric to pick a thesis.  Jack flipped his notebook open to a page covered in messy, blocky print, turned it towards Eric, and laughed at his horrified expression.

“What?”

“This is completely illegible,” Eric complained.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad.”

“Really Jack, is this how your brain works?  Because if so, I have to say, I’m a mite concerned.”

“At least I have notes, Bittle.”  Jack gestured at the blank document on the screen.  “Is this how your brain works?  Because if so, I have to say, I’m a mite concerned,” he mimicked.

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann, let me live,” he huffed, flopping over onto the comforter, taking the laptop with him.  Curled on his side with the computer, Eric started filling in the heading and basic title of his paper and jotting down a few of the points Jack had made into a quick outline.  He’d started sorting through JSTOR to find the shortest relevant articles possible, figuring Jack had disappeared into his own corner of peer-reviewed purgatory, when the bed shifted under him and a warm weight pressed along his back.  It was Jack, and Eric almost jumped out of his damn skin because Jack had spooned up right behind him, chin hooked over his shoulder and arm flopping down over his abdomen.  

“How’s it going?” Jack’s breath tickled as it blew over Eric’s skin, the low rumble of his voice vibrating through Eric’s ribs.

“It’s…happening.  Slowly.  But I don’t think I’ll flunk.”  Jack nodded, chin digging a little uncomfortably into Eric’s shoulder.

“Yeah, this is looking pretty good.”  He figured Jack would let go and return to his reading, but he stayed wrapped around Eric.

“How’s your reading coming there?” he asked teasingly.

“Done.”

“Already?”

“I did start it at a decent hour.  That is possible.”

“Hmmm…sounds fake.” Eric could feel gentle laughter at his back.  Well…looks like this is just his life right now.  He went back to writing, struggling to get all of the bullet-points in his outline put into coherent sentences.  For a minute, he blanked out, staring at the blinking cursor on the screen.  He was tired and warm, and he could feel his eyelids drooping.  And then Jack  spoke up.

“Created the infrastructure necessary for the rapid development of industry during the war boom of the early forties?”  Eric physically shook off his exhaustion.

“Hmm?”

“Oh, just…where you were going with that sentence.  You could say ‘In addition to the immediate economic relief and placation of the anxious, unemployed masses, the formation of the WPA created the infrastructure necessary for the rapid development of industry during the war boom of the early forties.’”

“Oh.  Thanks, that’s really good.”

“Not my first rodeo.”  Eric typed in the end of the sentence, and getting past that block gave him the burst he needed to get the rest of the paper out, Jack proofreading as he went, keeping himself tucked close throughout.  At some point, he caught part of Eric’s hoodie in his fingers, idly rubbing at the soft fabric.  Eric didn’t realize that there was such a soft side to Jack.  He knew he was kind, one of the most loyal and dedicated friends he’d ever had, but compared to the rest of the group they hung out with, he’d never been up for all of the casual cuddling (aside from Shitty trapping him in a bear hug).  This gentle, sleepy Jack was incredibly endearing, and Eric’s chest felt warm and tight.

He put the finishing touches on the essay around three thirty.  After saving the document about five times and promptly sending it to the print queue, he closed the laptop with a satisfying “slap,” and turned to look over his shoulder at Jack, only to find him fast asleep.  Exhausted and resigned, Eric just wiggled carefully out of Jack’s arms and trudged off to the bathroom to brush his teeth.  While tugging on his pajamas, he briefly contemplated sleeping in his roommate’s bed, but upon realizing he didn’t really know how clean the guy was and feeling like it would be…cold - a rejection of this intimacy Jack offered, he lay back down and pulled a blanket over them both.

Eric expected to sleep terribly, to lie awake staring at the ceiling until the sun came up, Jack woke, and he was inevitably left with the uncomfortable silence and an empty bed.  Instead, he slept the best he had since coming to college.  The bed was warm and, completely relaxed, Jack was actually very soft to snuggle against.  Eric’s breaths unconsciously synched with Jack’s, his eyes got heavy, and the next thing he knew, the sun was streaming in from the single window.

He stretched, joints popping pleasantly.  And then his foot brushed a leg, and all of a sudden, he snapped back to the moment and felt fully Jack pressed up behind him.  He startled just enough to jostle the bed, and his heart skittered in his chest as Jack stirred. The arm around his waist tightened momentarily, and a soft groan escaped Jack as he woke fully.  The sound shocked down Eric’s spine and oh god, he was actually going to die.  In some twist of cosmic mercy, Jack wasn’t sporting morning wood - that would be the actual death of him.

“Oh.  Hey.”  Jack’s breath ghosted over Eric’s neck, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut so he could compose his voice enough to get out,

“Morning.”  Jack stretched again, and the movement pushed them closer.

“Morning.  I didn’t ruin your sleep, did I?”  He looked so genuinely concerned Eric couldn’t let him be uncomfortable.

“You didn’t make a peep,” he said, because he couldn’t quite admit just how much Jack didn’t ruin his sleep.  

“Okay.”  They lay in silence for another minute, unsure of how to act normally now that they were both lucid.  Eric was about to roll over and see if Jack just passed back out when their phones buzzed simultaneously, the group chat lighting up with all the dirt and surreptitiously taken pictures of shame.  It gave them something appropriate to do with their hands and something safe to talk about.  Lying next to each other, they made fun of their friends’ questionable-at-best choices - Holster making out with his ex, Esther (again), Ransom instigating body shots, Shitty’s general personality.  The best chirps got sent to the group chat, but mostly they were just giggling to themselves and speaking in broken sentences as they realized they were nowhere near the losers of this week’s morning after.  Jack even went as far as to say,

“I think I definitely chose the best place to wake up today.”  And even though Eric knew how Jack really meant that, his brain couldn’t really switch off the nagging curiosity of what could be if Jack thought differently - was different.

The chat died back down after a while, everyone either going out in search of food or back to sleep.  Jack locked his phone back up, let out a final stretch-and-groan, and asked,

“Wanna hit Commons?  I’m getting pretty hungry.”  Eric took the out and agreed, hopping out of bed and shucking out of his pajamas.  He tried not to imagine Jack’s eyes on him as he dressed.  When he turned around, Jack was idly thumbing through his textbook.

“You ready?” Jack looked back up.

“Oh.  Yeah, let’s go.”

At Commons, Jack and Eric split up - Jack to the omelette bar, Eric to the buffet.  He loaded his plate with a pile of french toast sticks and homefries, drowning the whole thing in the watered-down fake syrup in the vat at the end of the line.  Jack sidled up behind him, and in lieu of greeting said,

“You should eat more protein.”  Eric jumped, flushed, and finally defended his breakfast.

“I am a figure skater, I need energy.  If I become some muscle-brained jock-head I won’t be able to get any lift to my jumps.”

“Hey, a muscle-brained jock-head just saved your grade.”

“I’m just sayin’, don’t go mocking my diet plan - I get results.”

Jack conceded the point then, and sat down with his heap of egg whites and spinach, tucking in with one last glance at Eric’s plate that fell between longing and dismay.  Looking at the man himself, Eric could relate.  Jack was sweet and smart and handsome, and whenever Eric had brought Philip to hang out with the guys, he hadn’t batted an eye, just chatted as politely as Jack ever managed about college plans and books they were reading.  He was exactly the kind of friend he’d dreamed of having in Georgia.  If he was being completely honest with himself, Jack was the kind of boyfriend he’d dreamed of.  But there be dragons.

Because for all that he went to a super-queer liberal arts college and might accidentally minor in Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies, Jack Zimmermann seemed as straight as an arrow shaft.  And even if he did like men, he was older and played football and drank horrific concoctions that contained lots of kale and protein powder.  There was no way Eric would be remotely his type.  Eric could feel himself getting maudlin, so he shook himself and took a sip of coffee to ground himself.

“Falling asleep there Bittle?”  Jack asked, smirking over his orange juice.

“I don’t know how in the hell you’re even awake right now,” he covered.

“I did get a little extra sleep,” Jack reminded him, and god did he not need to be reminded of Jack falling asleep spooned up against him.

“That’s right,  you abandoned me,” Eric teased.

“I did not,” he objected.  “I was there the whole time.”

“And what’s your alibi, the drool patch on the back of my shirt?”

“I do not drool!”  This came out louder than Jack had probably meant for and they got a couple of looks.  “Do not!” Jack whispered forcefully, leaning across the table.

“Do too!” Eric whispered back, leaning in as well.  Their faces were inches apart, and Eric had to fight to keep his face from softening.  In the end he couldn’t quite manage it after Jack reached up to wipe a smear of syrup from his cheek, the pad of it rough and warm on Eric’s face, and then licked the syrup off like it was nothing.  And then made an exaggeratedly offended expression at how ludicrously fake it tasted.  

Eric hated his life.  Before he could do anything stupid, he leaned back into his own space and returned to his breakfast.

The dining hall offerings were meager enough that Eric texted his mother to say he was coming over for dinner and did she need anything from the store.  She told him to grab eggs and some greens for a salad and “I’m thinking I’ll do brownies for dessert.  Maybe you can pick up some ice cream to put on top.”  Eric didn’t miss what a loaded statement that was.  His mama thought brownies were just about the lowest a baked good could sink.  Tiny batches, an inelegant slop of batter waiting in a pan, and finicky to make to boot.  But they were Coach’s favorite comfort food, hot and sticky fresh out of the oven, a scoop of ice cream melting over top.

“What’s wrong with Coach?” he asked.  Mama sighed.

“I don’t know, baby.  He was just in a rotten mood when he came home from practice.  He was real quiet, just took a beer and a puddin’ cup back to his study.”

“I wonder what happened,” Eric murmured, thinking briefly of Jack and wondering if he was upset too.  He clicked away from the call to his messaging window and sent off a quick text to Jack.  Coach is in a mood.  You alright?  There was no reply bubbles, but he hadn’t expected a prompt reply.  Instead of waiting to hear back, he wrapped up the call with Mama and headed off to the Stop & Shop.  

Back at the house, he set the bags of groceries down on the kitchen table and started rifling through for the greens to get started on the salad.  

“Thank you, baby,” Mama said, brushing a hand across his back as she passed behind.  “I know you’re just on the other side of town, but I do miss having you around.”  He laughs, but tucks his chin over her shoulder on his way to get tongs, promising,

“I miss you too.”  

They had everything set out on the table in a few minutes, and Suzanne hollered “Riiiichard!  Diiiiner!” towards the back of the house.  Coach joined them a moment later, dropping into his seat at the head of the table with a grunt that sounded more pained than ill-tempered.  He complimented Suzanne on dinner and asked “Junior” how his classes were going as always, and between bites, Eric and his mama traded glances.

Neither of them dared ask about practice until the brownies were cut and ice cream scooped.  Only then did Suzanne clear her throat and and ask, “So sweetheart, how was practice?”  Eric shoved a large spoonful of ice cream in his mouth, anticipating a long-winded speech about whatever the boys had done to piss him off.  Instead, Coach looked a little awkward and addressed Eric.

“Well, funny enough, I wanted to talk to you about that.”

“Oh?”  Eric’s ind raced, frantically trying to recall if he’d played a part in any activities that could’ve affected the boys’ game.  “Well fire away.”

“It’s - it’s a favor - a biggun, and you can say no.”

“Okay…Daddy, you’re makin me nervous.”

“Sorry, sorry.  Uh, well, you know how our backup kicker has been on leave with mono?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it seems our starting kicker busted his ankle playing soccer.”

“Oh…So you want me to…”

“Fill in, yeah.”

“Coach…”

“I know.  I said it was big.  And I can see about pulling one of the boys from fourth string, but you’ve got a good leg and you know the team.”

“Richard,” Suzanne warned.

“And kickers hardly ever get tackled,” he promised.

“Richard, that’s enough,” Suzanne said again, firmer.  Eric was silent for a moment, staring at his father.  Things were different now than they were in Georgia, he knew this.  He had his father’s support, the boys knew he was gay and didn’t make an ordeal of it - a few of them were even queer too.  The only thing that really bothered him still was the idea of being tackled, but the fact that Ransom and Holster would be his defense…

“I’ll do it.”

“You will?”  Both his parents sounded shocked, but a grin was breaking out from under Coach’s moustache.  Meanwhile ama looked like she’d swallowed a frog.  

“Dicky, you know you don’t have to, right?  Not if this is gonna bring your problem back.”

“I’m not gonna faint, Mama,” he told her, trying not to sound irritated.  “You’re not supposed to even touch the kicker, and besides…” Eric looked at his father.  “I wanna help the team.”  Coach nodded, beaming.

“Practice is at 3:30 tomorrow.  We’ll get you out there and see if you’re comfortable, and if all goes well, we’ll play you Friday.”

“I’ll be there,” Eric promised.

“Thank you,” Coach said.  “I can’t tell you how much it means that you’re even willing to try.”  Eric nods at his father, but when he stands to clear the table, he’s engulfed in a bear hug.  He squeezes his eyes shut and reminds himself that his father is already proud of him.  This is just icing on the cake.

[allsassnoclass]

OKAYYYY here we go: “First second I saw you and I couldn’t get over how beautiful you were.” mashton!!! steer that mashton ship baby xoxo bella

hm theoretically this would be a fluffy prompt but this is not a fluffy fic. subversion of expectations, baby!

mashton: “First second I saw you and I couldn’t get over how beautiful you were.”

Michael hasn't shared a room with Ashton in what feels like a very long time.  It's just easier to share with Luke or Calum instead, in the same way that it's easier to hang out with Luke and Calum, or talk to Luke and Calum, or exist in general outside of Ashton's proximity.  At every opportunity, he claims one of the others as his roommate, and typically Aston does the same.

They're both pretending that they don't notice.

It's not that Michael doesn't like Ashton as much as the other two, but it's harder to act normally around him since they almost kissed.

It just... had seemed like the thing to do.  Michael has long since acknowledged the fact that he has a crush, and he can recognize flirting when it happens.  To an extent, they all flirt with each other, but with Ashton it felt different.  Ashton doesn't typically drape himself all over them like the others do, but there have been these little touches that linger longer than should be normal, gentle brushes against Michael's arms or the back of his neck that make the hair on his arms stand on end.  There have been looks, too.  Ashton doesn't zone out while looking at people like Michael does, but that doesn't mean that Michael hasn't felt his eyes on him while they're hanging out.  Sometimes he has looked away by the time Michael turns to face him, but sometimes he catches him.

When he's caught, Ashton maintains eye contact, even if he's blushing.  Sometimes he winks.  Michael almost always looks away first.  That hasn't changed, even though everything else in their relationship now feels stiff and awkward.

Maybe Michael is the only one feeling it.  Maybe Ashton hadn't noticed that he was leaning in, even though it feels like they haven't had a direct conversation since it happened.

It had been late at night, because of course it was.  Michael's best and worst decisions are always made sometime between 2 and 5 in the morning.  Michael had wandered down to the kitchen, hoping for a late night snack and instead finding Ashton sitting on the floor, notebook in front of him.

"Hey," Michael said.  "Why are you up?"

"Thought I had something to say, but it's shit," Ashton said.  "What about you?"

"Dunno," Michael said, opening the fridge, hating everything he saw in there, and closing it again.  In the end, he just got a glass of water and sat next to Ashton.  The silence stretched between them for a bit, but Michael wasn't in a rush to break it.  Silences with Ashton have always been comfortable.

"I just wish I was better at this," Ashton said suddenly.

"What?"

"This whole... music thing."

"What are you talking about?"

Ashton shrugged, then gestured to his notebook, since closed.

"I can't write.  I want to, and I feel like I have stuff to say, but I'm just not good at it.  You'd think that after this long in a band I'd have picked something up."

"Ashton, you helped write our biggest hit to date," Michael said.  "You know, the one that was played on the radio all the time?  That was you."

"That was Jake and you."

"Shut up," Michael said.  "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response, because you're being an idiot.  Stop being so mean to yourself."

Ashton huffed a laugh.

"You're very comforting."

"Yeah, well, someone has to be," Micheal joked, bumping their shoulders together.  "Seriously, though, I can't reason with you when you're like this.  Everyone writes really shit stuff sometimes.  You can't produce too many hits or no one else would ever get any radio time."

"If you say so," Ashton said, but it was lighter than it had been.

"I do say so, and I'm always right, so you have to listen to me."

Ashton snorted, and that's what Michael had been looking for.  It wasn't derisive, it was a release.

"I will just this once, but know that it's against my better judgement," he said.

"Ha, ha."

Ashton had turned to Michael and smiled, just a little.

"I really appreciate you, you know?" he said.  "I know we all joke otherwise a lot, but you're really important to me, Mikey."

Michael swallowed, startled at the sudden change in atmosphere and steadiness of Ashton's gaze.

"I appreciate you, too."

There was that hint of a smile again, and the same weight in Ashton's gaze that appeared so often when he was looking at Michael.

Ashton's eyes had flickered down to his lips.  Michael's heart started beating double time, quick and powerful like one of Ashton's drumbeats.  Ashton swallowed.

Michael still doesn't know what had made him lean in, but he knows that it was the wrong choice.  Ashton had reared back, then immediately scrambled to his feet with a quick excuse about trying to sleep.  That had been weeks ago, right before tour restarted, and now Michael has to figure out how to survive the night in a hotel room with only Ashton for company.

Michael kills as much time outside of the room as possible, dreading having to retire for the night.  He hates Calum and Luke for immediately choosing to room with each other tonight.  He hates Ashton for pulling away and making things weird.  He hates himself for misreading things and leaning in in the first place.

Eventually he has to sleep, but only after a full minute of staring at the door with his key in hand, trying to psych himself up.

Ashton is laying on his bed with the TV on, but he's scrolling on his phone instead of watching.  He glances up immediately, offering Michael a strained smile.

"I'm going to shower," Michael says before Ashton has a chance to open his mouth.  He spends the next half hour in the bathroom, hoping that Ashton isn't insulted by how obvious he's being in his avoidance.

The lights are off when he gets back to the main room, and Michael finds himself relieved and strangely disappointed that Ashton didn't wait up.  He doesn't want to have to talk about what happened, but maybe they could've tiptoed around it in a way that wasn't excruciating.  Just because he doesn't want to talk to Ashton doesn't mean he can't miss him.

He slips under the covers, fully aware of the fact that sleep is not going to come easy tonight.  Ashton shifts in the other bed, lighting all of Michael's nerves on fire, and he feels the anxiety rise in him.

"Michael?" Ashton asks.  Michael considers staying silent, but it's much too soon for him to have fallen asleep and deliberately ignoring Ashton would be cruel, even if this is probably the rejection talk he's been dreading.

"Yeah," he sighs, defeated.

"I wanted to kiss you, too."

What?

Michael turns over, but he can't see anything in the darkness of the room.

"That's what was happening, right?"  Ashton asks.  "You were trying to kiss me?"

"Uh, yeah," Michael says.

"I didn't pull back because I didn't want you to kiss me.  First second I saw you and I couldn’t get over how beautiful you were.  I've had a massive crush on you this whole time, but I don't think it would be a good idea."

Michael swallows.

"Why not?"

He waits for what feels like forever until Ashton speaks again.

"The band.  If something went wrong, it'd change everything.  This--you, the boys, the music--means everything to me.  I can't risk that."

"I thought you've been trying to be optimistic," Michael says.

"Sometimes you have to be realistic instead."

Michael clenches his jaw and attempts to keep the whirlpool in the back of his throat down.

"I think..." he starts, then has to take a steadying breath, "I think it would've been nicer if you let me keep thinking you didn't like me, instead of telling me you do just to reject me anyway.  And I think you're wrong.  You're not being realistic, you're just being a coward."

"Michael--"

"I don't want to talk to you about this anymore."  He throws back the covers and swings his legs over the side of the bed.  "I'm going to sleep in Luke and Calum's room."

"Mike, wait--"

"Do you think you could change your mind?" he asks.  "Could you agree to give this a chance instead of deciding it'll be a disaster right away, or would I be fighting a loosing battle?"

Ashton is silent.  It's all the answer that he needs.

"I'm going to sleep with Luke and Cal.  See you tomorrow."

He leaves the room without another word, squinting in the jarring light of the hallway.

What the fuck was that?

Michael clenches his fists, then releases.  It does nothing to ease everything swirling inside him, a confusing concoction that he doesn't want to think about or make sense of.

What the fuck?

Luke and Calum's door is right there, but he can't bring himself to knock yet, too much energy thrumming through his veins.  He wants to scream.  He wants to punch something.  He wants to cry.

He wants to break onto the roof, and if he can't find a way to do that he's going to keep walking up and down the stairs until everything threatening to bubble up feels manageable again.

He already got rejected, so theoretically it shouldn't be as bad the second time around, but it is.  The first time Michael felt like he was a fool; now he knows that Ashton doesn't think it'd be worth it, that he would be worth it.

He can't keep standing here.  He forces himself to take one step, then another, and tries to focus on that instead of the tears stinging behind his eyes.