#id been storing those tears specifically for this one song

[fadeintolight]

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[h3rmitsunited-art]

The Inconvenience Store

By chopwood (that’s me!)

Read On Ao3

Todd works the night shift at his boring job at the KwikMart. During the night shift, he can expect to see the regulars, drunks, half-drunks, cold homeless people, and truckers, but tonight, he runs into a different crowd; a strange injured man claiming that he’s “not psychic” and the group of intimidating military men that are on the hunt for him. Todd gives him some help and conversation.

Trigger warning for mentions of blood/injury/needles.

"...and 2.35 is your change," Todd said as he placed the wrinkled bills and coins in the hand of the tired looking man at the counter. The man nodded and grumbled some sort of acknowledgement before snatching his plastic bag from Todd’s hand and walking out the door.

Todd sighed and glanced up at the clock for the hundredth time in the past hour. Despite feeling like it’d been a long time since the last time he looked at the clock, it had only been two minutes. He had a theory that time just moved slower in this store, that it was on one of those like ghost lines or built on top of some alien testing facility because his shifts always seemed to last an eternity. He'd finished cleaning and restocking an hour ago, and there were still four hours to go, so he did as he usually did, and grabbed his notebook from under the counter and continued drafting up random song ideas and doodling on the pages. He sat quietly on his stool behind the register working in his notebook for awhile when there was a sudden thud at the door. Todd flinched and looked up to see a wild-eyed man standing in the store, looking back toward the parking lot nervously.

"Uh-" Todd started. It was definitely not the strangest person he'd seen working the night shift, not even close to the strangest. This area tended to get a lot of weirdos, but he knew from experience that it was the panicked ones that caused the most problems, and this guy seemed like he was going to cause some problems. He rushed past the register, mumbling nervously and looking frantically around the store. Todd made a mental note of his appearance as he walked past, a habit that he’d formed due to the number of police reports he’s had to make on other people that come into the store causing issues. The man’s face was a splotchy dirty mess and his hair stuck out wildly in matted clumps. Todd could see red stains on his hands as he walked past... and he desperately hoped this guy wasn't some murderer here for a slushee after killing a bunch of people. He seemed to suddenly realize Todd's presence behind the counter, and his eyes lit up, darting between the dark parking lot and Todd. He quickly rounded the corner, and before Todd could react, he ducked around the back of the stool and curled up by Todd's feet. Todd jumped up in surprise and confusion.

"No. No, no, no. You gotta get out of here, man. You can't be behind the counter!" Todd groaned internally. He was really hoping for a quiet night to just work on some songs, and not have to deal with some insane dude trying to… well, do something… didn’t seem like he was trying to rob him, but… this definitely wasn’t the typical KwikMart customer behavior. The man made no efforts to follow Todd’s instructions, and just shook his head, eyes wide, and brought his finger to his lips.

"I'm not here. Please. I just... Don't tell them I'm here." Todd immediately noticed the British accent, just as much out of place in the area as his strange appearance, as well as the unmasked terror in the man’s eyes. Todd was distracted from the man by blinding headlights that pulled up in the parking lot. A loud engine shut off outside and Todd could sort of make out the shape of a large black van that had parked outside. He looked back down at the man, who was staring up at him, desperate and pleading, shaking his head, and pressing himself in closer to the counter like he was trying to disappear.

“I’m not getting involved, dude. Come on, you really need to go.”

"Please,” the man said, his eyes shining with tears of desperation. “Please, you don't have to get involved. Just don’t tell them I’m here. I promise. Nothing more than that. Just... you know, let me hide back here... oh! Better yet, do you have like a back room or something, or like a large box, or maybe a trap door that leads to some hidden cellar?" He started picking at the edges of the tiles on the floor like he was expecting the floor to pop up. Todd rolled his eyes and turned back to the black van outside. No one had gotten out yet, but he could see the shadows of movement through the windshield. He glanced at the silent alarm under the counter, reaching out towards it.

"Don’t,” the man said, seeming to realize his intentions, a warning tone to his voice. “The police can't help. I know how that sounds, but they'll just make it worse. Please." The man laid a hand on Todd's pant leg, tugging it slightly. Todd rolled his eyes and sighed. He turned around. He'd left a large empty cardboard box on the counter behind him, from when he'd finished restocking the chips, intending to take it out to the dumpster later. He, as casually and nonchalantly as he could, picked it up and laid it over the man, hopefully covering him from anyone who walked past or looked over the counter. He heard a muffled thank you from under the box and he started to make a show of cleaning the counter off. Just totally normal, not suspicious, night shift clerk activities. The sound of the van door slamming shut made his heart jump, and he struggled to keep his hands from shaking as he wiped the cardboard dust off the back counter. The front door creaked as it opened and the bell jingled.

Just breathe, Todd.

He turned to see three men file in one after the other, clad in black body armor, all with very stiff postures. They didn't acknowledge Todd as they walked in. The man in the front cocked his head to the right, and the man behind him started down the aisles, and then he cocked it to the left, and the third man walked quickly towards the refrigerators and aisles behind where the register counter was. Todd could hear him open one of the refrigerators, and he glanced back to see him taking out some water bottles. Todd watched them cautiously, trying to keep his heart under control. The first man arrived at the counter, finally seeming to register that a human person was standing behind the counter. Todd shifted nervously under his intense stare.

"Had any... strange customers tonight,"-he looked down at Todd's nametag and then back up at his face- "Todd?" Todd glanced around at the other man still circling the aisles in front of him. He looked back to the one at the counter and furrowed his brows, making a show of thinking intently, and then shrugged.

"Can you be more specific? Most of the people that come here at night, I’d say are all somewhat strange... Drunks, druggies, prostitutes, homeless people…etcetera etcetera…” Todd felt like he was talking way too fast... or too slow... or too much. He felt the strange man's presence, through the thin barrier of the cardboard box next to his leg, weighing heavily on his entire body, like it was emitting some sort of heightened gravity field. The man in black, leaning over the counter, didn't seem to like his answer. He glared at Todd, clenching his jaw, before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a folded paper. He unfolded it, smoothing it out on the counter and pushed it towards Todd. It was a bit grainy and blurred, looking a bit like one of those pictures the paparazzi would take of celebrities in their backyards using those huge zoom lenses, but Todd could tell it was supposed to be the man he had hiding under the box next to him. He looked just as scared in the picture, a little bit cleaner and more put together, wearing the same bright yellow jacket and standing in some doorway.

"We’re looking for this guy. You seen anyone like him come around here?" Todd leaned in closer to the picture, squinting at it slightly. His mind was racing, thoughts just telling him, don’t get involved. Just tell them. It’s not your problem. Just say it. He’s under the box. Take him. You don’t need to deal with this shit. Todd clenched his jaw and slowly shook his head.

"I don’t think so. Doesn’t really seem familiar. Why? Is he dangerous or something?" Idiot. What the hell are you thinking? Why didn’t you just tell them? Why are you lying to these guys? Todd swallowed thickly, glancing down at the holster on the man in front of him, and then back up, hoping the man didn’t notice.

"Extremely. If you see him, don't engage, don't talk to him. Just call us immediately." The man folded the picture and shoved it back into his pocket just as one of the other men joined behind him. He sat a bunch of water bottles on the counter, which Todd nervously started to ring up. Todd heard footsteps next to him as the third man walked past the open end of the counter. Todd could see him eyeing the cardboard box, and felt his entire body clenching. He forced himself to focus on the water bottles, hoping he wasn’t being extremely obvious with how nervous he was.

“That’s $15.67 for the waters,” Todd said, tightly.

The man pulled a wallet out of his pocket, revealing a military ID, and grabbed a twenty and a business card out of it and handed them both to Todd. The business card was blank apart from a phone number.

“Keep the change and call us if you think of anything.” Todd nodded, finished up the transaction and bagging the water bottles.

The third man finally came around the counter, shaking his head at the other two. Todd felt his muscles relax just slightly. The one that brought up the water bottles grabbed the bag without looking at Todd.

"Have a nice night." The three men didn't respond. They turned, walking back out to their van, the doors slamming shut loud enough that it made Todd jump slightly. He heard the cardboard start to shuffle on the floor, and Todd tapped it with his foot, and brought and hand up to his mouth pretending to cough. "They're still out there."

Todd tried to busy himself with cleaning the counter and checking over the register, keeping the van in his peripheral. It was almost five minutes before the van finally pulled away and the sound of the roaring engine faded back to silence. Todd let out a deep shaky breath. He reached down and pulled the box off the man on the floor. The man flinched back at first before realizing it was still Todd, and then he relaxed, leaning back into counter behind him, sighing in relief. He shut his eyes and wrapped an arm around his stomach. After a moment, he opened his eyes again, leaning forward and readjusting his position, wincing slightly. He looked up at Todd, giving him a tight smile.

“Sorry about that. Thanks for not… you know…” He tugged his jacket tighter around his chest, wincing again. Todd caught a glimpse of a dark red patch on the white fabric of his shirt as he adjusted his jacket. He shifted again, and flinched, hissing in pain.

“You’re hurt," Todd said with a frown. He wasn't sure if he should care, or if this is what he should be caring about right now, as opposed to the intimidating, gun-toting, body-armor-wearing men that were searching for this reportedly extremely dangerous man… though he doesn't exactly look dangerous, and Todd knows how to clean a wound... so... he supposed the rest is a problem for later, at least once he was sure this man wasn’t going to die in the next couple minutes hiding behind his counter. At Todd’s remark, the man’s expression shifted. He looked surprised, like he'd expected to be quickly shoved out the door, and definitely not expecting the notes of concern in Todd's voice. He tried to shrug, but the movement pulled on whatever wound he was hiding and he hissed again. Todd raised an eyebrow and sighed, grabbing the first aid kit from under the counter. He shoved his stool out of the way and knelt down next to the man on the floor. He was watching him quietly, his arm covering up his stomach where Todd had seen the patch of blood.

"I’m alright. You’ve done enough, honestly. I just need to go and-" Todd held up his hand, cutting off his sentence.

"I’m just guessing by the fact you weren’t interested in getting the cops involved that you’re also not going to be making your way to the hospital after leaving here, so would you just let me see? It would be a shame if I just lied to those guys and you go and bleed out after you leave here." The man pressed his lips together, looking away from Todd.

"They weren't lying. About me." Todd frowned, shaking his head.

"Lying about what?"

"That I'm a danger. To you, to anyone. I get people killed. You shouldn't..." He sighed, resigned. "I shouldn't have come in here." He dropped his face into his hands and shook his head. "I'm sorry. Shit. I’m really sorry,” he mumbled into his hands. “You're being all nice and everything, and now you're involved, and I don't..." He couldn't see, but Todd was pretty sure by the way his breathing changed and the soft shake of his shoulder, that the man was crying. Bleeding wounds, Todd could handle, but crying... he really wasn’t equipped with the right stuff to deal with that. He rested a hand on the man’s shoulder, patting it twice.

"Um... hey. Look, it's fine. I mean, it’s not like…fine, but like, I don't know... look, it's gonna be alright, man, just, you don’t need to like… cry…” Todd looked around as though there would be something or somebody that could help him deal with whatever this situation was. He spotted the drink machines behind him, and looked back at the man who still had his head in his hands. “You want like a slushee or something?" He heard the man sniffle a little. He shook his head. Todd's legs started to cramp from the way he was squatting, so he sat down, crossing his legs. He noticed the man peek out between his fingers at the movement. "I'm Todd, by the way. You have a name?" The man looked up now, his eyes rimmed red, and dropped his hands into his lap.

"It's, uh… it’s Dirk? Dirk. My name is Dirk. Dirk Gently.” The repetition made Todd a bit more suspicious, but Dirk seemed like he was relaxing a little more, so he waved it off for now.

“Nice to meet you, Dirk.” Dirk gave him a small smile, nodding.

“Same to you, Todd.”

"Who were those guys anyways?" Todd eyed the security monitor on the register, the parking lot was still empty. The adrenaline was draining out of his muscles and he was suddenly feeling a lot more tired than he had ten minutes ago. Dirk eyed him carefully at the question.

"It's a long story." Todd shrugged and glanced around the store.

"Not like I have anything better to do…" He raised an eyebrow. Dirk smiled, but it fell off his face quickly, and he let out a heavy sigh and shook his head.

"No. I should really go. You’re already in danger just by hiding me, and knowing more would just make things worse.”

“I mean they’ll probably already assume I know something if they found out what I lied to them anyways, so I’d say it’d just give me a chance to prepare in case they do come after me, right?” Dirk frowned, but he seemed like he was considering it.

“That’s not… I mean…”

"They're government something, right? Military?" Dirk looked up at him, surprised. Todd shrugged. "I saw one of their IDs.” Dirk pressed his lips together and sighed.

"They're CIA."

"CIA? Like ‘CIA’ CIA?" Dirk raised an eyebrow as in to say, 'yes, Todd, that is what I just said, pay attention.'  Todd disregarded this expression and continued his incredulous interrogation. "What does the CIA want with you? And why'd they say you're dangerous?"

"I am dangerous, and as I said before it’s a long story. And complicated. And dangerous.” Todd rolled his eyes again.

“Come on, why don’t you just let me check what’s going on with all that,” he said pointing at the blood stains, "and you can explain why you just risked my life coming in here. It's the least you can do." That seemed to break the last barrier on Dirk’s resolve and he shook his head one more time before speaking.

"Fine. But just because I’m pretty sure I have lost a fair amount of blood and I really don’t have the energy right now to argue.” Dirk’s fingers tightened around his jacket, as Todd leaned forward. Todd gave him a gentle look and Dirk let out a breath, and then slowly shifted the left half of his jacket to the side. Todd could now see the dark patch of wet blood soaked into his white button-down. The shirt clung to his skin around a long, but, hopefully, shallow scratch that ran across Dirk’s side. Dirk licked across his lips nervously.

“You’re going to need to take the jacket and the shirt off, so I can get that cleaned up enough to see what the damage is.” Dirk clenching his jaw, but nodded. He winced as he shifted to take the jacket off, and Todd leaned forward more to help him get the sleeves over his shoulders. Dirk looked surprised again at his concern, but accepted the help, and Todd sat the dirty, yellow jacket aside after a minute of maneuvering to get it off.

Dirk started to unbutton the shirt when the door jingled. They both froze, and Todd's eyes shot to the security monitor. There were still no cars in the parking lot. No sign of the black van. Todd gave Dirk a look that said ‘stay here’, and slowly stood up from the floor to immediately see a tired looking man with a scraggly beard standing in front of the chip display a few feet away. He looked over, seeming slightly confused and surprised to see Todd standing behind the counter that had been empty when he walked in, but then shook his head, and started to wander back through the aisles. Todd sighed.

"It's just some guy. It's not them," he whispered down at his feet. He could see Dirk relax in his peripheral vision. The man finished grabbing his items, shoved a crinkled five dollar bill at Todd, took his change and left. Once he was out of sight on the security monitor, Todd returned to sit by Dirk on the floor. "You okay?" Dirk nodded, but Todd could see his expression was tense, and knew he was lying. Dirk untucked his shirt from his pants and started fumbling with the buttons again.

“So, the CIA…” Todd started, trying to prompt the conversation that had gotten cut off. Dirk nodded absently, his concentration entirely taken by his fingers slipping and shaking as he struggled to unbutton his shirt. Todd sighed, leaning forward and gently batting his hands away. Dirk huffed, but allowed Todd to step in. "Dirk?"

“What?”

“You were going to tell me what the hell is going on?” Todd reminded him, as he made it halfway down Dirk’s shirt. The buttons near the bottom were smudged with dried blood. Todd could see matching stains covering Dirk's hands, and felt his stomach tighten.

“Right,” Dirk started. “The CIA…” He paused, trying to figure out where to start. “So, I’m… like… a thing. Like a special sort of like… person, sort of thing? I don't know really how to explain it, and I don’t even understand why I can do what I do, but things just sort of happen to me when they're supposed to happen, and it lets me do things that seem sort of… impossible, I guess?”

“What do you mean impossible?” Todd glanced up as he finished unbuttoning Dirk’s shirt before he started working on carefully peeling the fabric from his skin and wound without hurting him too much.

“Maybe more… improbable, or… incredibly unlikely, or supernaturally coincidental. Not like impossible like… being able to fly or something crazy like that. I’m not like Superb-man.” Todd paused, trying to take in what Dirk was trying to say, getting caught up only on the last thing.

“Superman?”

“No, not him either,” Dirk answered, flippantly. “Anyways, the CIA, they had this division, Blackwing, that sort of collected people that had these special things like me… but not really like me exactly. Different sorts of things. They thought they could use… our things to help them with… whatever they wanted to use them for, I guess.” Dirk paused, hissing as Todd worked on peeling the fabric off the dried edges of the wound. Todd’s face scrunched up apologetically. Dirk took a breath and continued, his voice tighter. “They wanted me to figure out how to control what I could do, so they put me through all these stupid tests and experiments, but they could never get anything they tried to work, and I just couldn’t control it, no matter how much they pushed me. They kept us there, for years, locked up. I mean, it was just... awful. So, a few of the other subjects and I made an escape and I’ve been on the run ever since.”

“Control what exactly? What is the… thing? What do you do?” Todd looked up at him, moving his hands to his lap for a moment, which gave Dirk a reprieve from the pain from the peeling as he thought about his answer to Todd’s question.

“I’m a holistic detective… or at least that’s what I call it. Blackwing thought that I was psychic, which I guess to other people it might seem that way, but I’m not really… psychic. I don’t have any special powers or magic or whatever. The universe sort of just sets things up for me to end up where I’m supposed to be, to know what I need to know, to meet who I need to meet, so that I can… help people. Ever since I can remember, I’ve just gotten these… hunches. Signs and signals from the universe I never really truly understand, but nobody else knows about, and it always sort of leads me to the answer to what I’m supposed to solve.”

“That sounds like… nothing. You are just… where you’re supposed to be all the time, and you solve things? I mean you could just say that about anyone. That you're just where you're supposed to be all the time because if you weren't where you were supposed to be then you wouldn't be there, right?" Dirk huffed, slightly frustrated that Todd wasn’t just immediately understanding what he was trying to say.

“It’s not… nothing, Todd. And it’s… well it’s hard to explain. I mean when Blackwing first brought me in, it was because I was in the news in my town for finding thirty lost pets in one month. Five of them had been lost for over six years… and I hadn’t even been looking for any of them. I just… ended up coming across them where they were because of random, but not random things that happened to me. Coincidences and happenstances that seemed unconnected at first, but actually were all connected. It got me into a lot of trouble though. My mother was always so upset with me because of how much I wandered off and got into things I wasn't supposed to… which I think was part of why she let them take me.” Todd frowned, finishing getting the last of Dirk’s shirt peeled off of his skin, and helped get the shirt over Dirk’s shoulders like he had with his jacket. He sat the bloody shirt behind his back, and took a moment to glance back up at the security monitor. Still nothing in the parking lot. Dirk was quiet as he watched Todd pull some of the supplies out of the first aid kit. Todd picked out a packet of pain medication and offered it to Dirk.

“Here, these should help a little with the pain.” Dirk nodded and took the packet from him. Todd handed him a water bottle from under the counter, and thought about what Dirk had said while Dirk took the pills. “Wait, your mother… how old were you when you went into Blackwing?” Todd asked, feeling the uncomfortable tightening in his stomach again.

“Seven. I was seven when they took me in,” Dirk answered quietly.

“Shit,” Todd said, his voice hushed, shaking his head in disbelief. Dirk nodded, letting out a heavy sigh. Todd shifted closer, so that his leg pressed up against the side of Dirk’s thigh. It was tight behind the counter, and Todd realized this was probably the closest he had been to another person in a long time. He bit down the strange emotions that crept up in the wake of that thought, and forced himself to focus. Dirk had started talking again.

“- was there for eight years before I escaped. I’ve been out, all over the place, trying to make some sort of a life for myself, not really succeeding, but then six months ago, they show up, trashing the apartment I’d been staying in, and nearly grabbing me in the process. I managed to get far enough away that they hadn’t gotten that close until this past week. I really thought I wasn’t going to get away tonight…especially after this…” he said, motioning towards the gash in his side.

Dirk was still wearing an undershirt, just as blood soaked as his button-down had been, but tighter. It seemed like it’d be more of a challenge to pull off over his head without stretching the wound too much. Todd frowned.

“It’s going to be a bit tricky to get this off, but I’ve got some scissors. Do you mind if I just cut it off?” Dirk opened his mouth and then closed it again, seeming a bit uncomfortable. He reached down and tugged up the bottom of the undershirt, folding it up over the top of his chest so the wound was more exposed now. He looked up at Todd and raised an eyebrow.

“Does that work? I just… I’d prefer to leave at least something on…” he said, his voice slightly shaky. Dirk’s expression was open and vulnerable, as he spoke. He smirked and added, “At least until we get to know each other a little better.” Todd smiled back and nodded, working the edge of the shirt up a little further. Dirk seemed relieved. Todd started cleaning off the dried blood coating Dirk’s stomach. The reality of their closeness was crashing down on him again. He could hear the Dirk’s soft intake of breath as he pressed the cold wipe against his skin, and swallowed thickly.

“Sorry, it’s cold,” he said quietly. Dirk shook his head.

“No, it’s… it’s fine. Just wasn’t expecting it.” Todd glanced up for a second to find Dirk was watching him curiously. Todd swallowed again and cleared his throat, looking back at Dirk’s injured side.

“So, did they do this to you?” Todd asked. He finished cleaning the blood from his skin and started working on cleaning out the wound. Dirk shook his head.

“Uh, no. That was… well, I mean sort of… indirectly, I guess, but I mean, everything is connected, so then yes, this was absolutely their fault…because if they weren’t-”

“Dirk.” Todd said, pulling him out of his rambling.

“Right, no. I was trying to get over a fence with some of those… like pointed tops on them and slipped a bit and it scratched me up pretty good. Didn’t make it over the fence, but I discovered shortly after, while I was running the perimeter of the fence, that there were actually a couple of very vicious and hungry looking dogs behind the fence that probably would have taken some chunks out of me, so I suppose this was the preferable outcome…” Todd raised an eyebrow at him. Dirk shrugged. “Not really preferable to not being injured at all, but preferable to the whole… dog mauling bit.” Dirk pressed his lips together, looking down at Todd’s fingers working deftly on cleaning the wound. “Is it bad? It feels bad.” Todd shook his head, putting his most reassuring expression on.

“It’s not that deep, which is good. As long as that fence post wasn’t rusty, and you’re up to date on your tetanus shots… it should be okay. I’ll need to give you a couple stitches so it heals properly though.” Dirk frowned, his eyes widening.

“Stitches? Are you sure that’s necessary?” Todd nodded, looking through the first aid kit. Dirk pressed his lips together. “It’ll probably be alright with just like… a bandage or something. You don’t have to get the-” Todd pulled out the needles and suture thread from the first aid kit and Dirk stopped talking, starting to shift away. Todd looked over at him, concerned, and frowned.

“You okay?” Dirk was still eyeing the needle in his hand. Todd lowered it back down. “Honestly, they’re not that bad. I’m not like a nurse, but I used to work in a sketchy club and I got really good at giving stitches. Not bragging, but people said that they could barely even feel it.” Dirk sighed. “Though I’m pretty sure most of them were on some sort of drugs at the time…” Dirk frowned deeper.

“Todd!” Todd shrugged.

“I mean they’re going to hurt, but it’s better than dying from an infection from having a gaping open wound in your side, right?” Dirk rolled his eyes.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Todd nodded confidently. Dirk sighed.

“Alright… I guess. Do your thing then…” Todd gave him a small smile.

“Okay. You’re going to need to lay down, though. I can’t really get to you when you’re sitting like that.” Todd grabbed the yellow jacket from behind him as Dirk started to shift into a laying position on the ground. He scrunched it into a ball and shoved it under Dirk’s head.

“Thanks,” he said and smiled. “Is this okay?”

Dirk was laid out, his feet stretching to the other end of the counter, his stomach exposed, his wound open and still oozing blood. He looked up at Todd nervously, his hands fidgeting at his sides. Todd nodded quietly and scooted forward. His leg pressed against Dirk’s arm and he could feel his hand moving near his ankle. Todd wiped over the wound again, making sure it was clean and then held the suture needle over Dirk’s stomach. He felt Dirk’s hand turn and wrap around his leg, gripping him tightly, and he turned to see Dirk had squeezed his eyes closed, his muscles tense.

“Relax. Just breathe, Dirk.” Dirk gave him a tight nod, but kept his eyes closed. Todd started working carefully, softly apologizing at Dirk’s hiss of pain as the needle went in. Without thinking, he started humming a song quietly, and continued, quickly and gently stitching up the wound. Dirk was tense, his jaw clenched and hand tight on Todd’s leg, but he was quiet. Todd finished the stitches, clipping the end of the thread and wiping off the excess blood that had oozed out while he had been working, and carefully applied some ointment over it before grabbing a large bandage from the first aid kit and patting Dirk on the arm. “Stitches are all done. Just going to put a bandage on you and then you’ll be all set.” Dirk relaxed slightly, letting out a heavy breath.

“Oh, thank goodness,” he said shakily.

“You okay?” Dirk’s eyes opened slowly and he nodded, looking over at Todd.

“That definitely did not feel good at all… but your song helped.” He smiled. “What was it?” Todd laid the bandage over the wound and started taping it across his side.

“It was one I wrote. From my old band. Music helps me concentrate.”

“It was nice.”

“Thanks,” Todd said, not sure what else to say to that. Dirk was still looking over at him intently, and Todd was starting to feel like he was an animal in the zoo or something, unused to the constant eyes on him. He cleared his throat as he finished smoothing over the tape. “There. You’re all set.” Dirk glanced down with a strained smile.

“Thank you, Todd. For this… and you know.. before. Honestly. Thank you.” Todd nodded. Dirk sat up carefully, wincing at bit. He pointed at the bloody shirt on the floor behind Todd. “Could you hand me my shirt?” Todd turned and grabbed it, but hesitated before handing it back.

“This thing is covered in blood, you really wanna put this back on?” Dirk shrugged, reaching for it.

“Not really… but it’s not like I have any other options right now. I unfortunately didn’t have time to pack my whole closet with me.”

That weird feeling was coming up in Todd’s stomach again. You don’t care. This is just... some guy. Some weird guy you just randomly decided to stitch up on the floor behind the register and lie to the CIA for... just because... Todd groaned and shook his head, pulling the bloody shirt away from Dirk’s reach and tossing it into the trash can under the counter. Dirk squawked in protest. Todd quickly pulled off his work vest and started to unbutton his flannel shirt.

“Todd! That was my sh- what are you doing?” Todd shook his head, resigned and confused as to why he was currently doing what he was doing, but he was doing it, and he wasn’t going to explain to Dirk or to himself or anyone why. He finished unbuttoning and pulled the flannel off. He still had a black t-shirt on underneath and held out the flannel to Dirk without saying anything. Dirk frowned at it. “Todd, you don’t need to give me your shirt. I can wear the other one, it’s alright. You’ve done more than enough.”

“Dirk, just-” He pushed the shirt towards him again. Dirk huffed at him, grabbing it out of his hand like he was doing Todd a favor. He started pulling it over his arm as Todd put his work vest back on. Dirk started struggling to get it on over his other arm, but was trying not to be obvious about it. Todd sighed, leaning forward, and reaching to grab the end of the sleeve, so Dirk could get his arm in. Dirk huffed again, rolling his eyes, but pushed his arm through. Todd looked down at the bloody undershirt still bunched up on Dirk’s chest and frowned. “You should really take that thing off. It’s pretty gross.” Dirk wiped a hand over the fabric and tugged it back down over his stomach.

“It’s not that bad.” His hand came away smudged with blood and he narrowed his eyes. “Maybe it is a little gross.” Todd turned around, opening a drawer and grabbing out a pair of scissors, and turned back raising his eyebrows at Dirk, who nodded. Todd grabbed the front of the undershirt and started cutting up through the fabric, slowed by how dull the scissors were.

“Sorry, they’re kind of old scissors…” Todd adjusted his grip, squeezing hard as the blades twisted in the fabric. “Maybe I should grab one of our box cutters.” Dirk laughed briefly before gasping, going suddenly quiet. Todd looked up at him to see him looking up at the counter, and turned to see a woman standing at the register, looking bored and a bit irritated. She held up a pack of beer.

“If you’re done trying to undress each other, would ya ring me up? I need a pack of cigarettes too.” Todd dropped the scissors, standing quickly and wiping his hands on his pants frantically.

“Uh, yes, sorry.” He quickly looked to the security monitor, just one car parked at the front. No big scary vans. The store seemed to be empty other than the somewhat scantily clad woman. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the locked display behind him and finished dealing with her order. She smirked at Todd and looked down at Dirk before heading out the door and driving away. Todd turned back around and Dirk was buttoning up his borrowed shirt. Todd took one more look around before sitting back down on the floor.

“I should go,” Dirk said without looking up. Todd frowned.

“What? What if those guys are out there? Where are you even going to go?” Dirk shrugged. He finished buttoning the shirt and dropped his hands in his lap.

“Wherever I’m supposed to go. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter,” Dirk said with a huff. “I’ve put you in enough danger.” Dirk started to push himself off the floor, but Todd pressed a hand on his leg, keeping him from getting up.

“Stop, just… Dirk, listen. Why don’t you come back to my apartment? When I’m done with my shift. You can take a shower and sleep and take a minute to figure out where you’re going to go next when it’s not… 3am.” Dirk frowned.

“No… wait, what? Why? Why would you… why would you do that?” Todd shrugged.

“I don’t know. It just… seems like you need a break?” That answer seemed to make Dirk more upset and he pushed Todd’s hand away.

“That's not... You're working with them, aren't you? You're trying to get me to stay here, to leave with you...” His eyes grew wider. Todd backed up, and shook his head.

“What? No. Why would I be with them?” Dirk shrugged, waving his arms in front of him.

“I don’t know?! You could be pretending to help me to get me to let my guard down, trying to get me to trust you or something?" Dirk pushed back into the counter more, trying to get further from Todd.

"You realize that doesn't make any sense, right? Why would I hide you from other the Blackwing guys, help patch you up, and stay working here another couple hours to trick you to trust me, so that I can then take you to Blackwing?" Dirk frowned. He seemed to understand that it wasn't really logical, but he still stayed pressed up in the corner, wrapping an arm around his stomach.

"I’m not… I can take care of myself, okay?” Todd shrugged and shook his head.

“Okay. I’m not trying to say you can’t. And I swear, I’m not with those guys. I’m just… I’m just some nothing cashier trying to help. No ulterior motives.” Todd was surprised how genuine the words came to him. Dirk seemed to relax a little more.

“People don’t…  they don't just do that. Put themselves at risk to help weird bloody guys.” Todd shrugged. Dirk narrowed his eyes at him. “You promise you’re not working for Blackwing?” Todd cocked his head to the side.

“Yes. I promise.” Dirk pressed his lips together. He held up his hand, popping up his pinky.

“Pinky promise?” Todd huffed a laugh through his nose and rolled his eyes. Dirk’s expression stayed serious. Todd wrapped his pinky around Dirk’s.

“Pinky promise. I’m not working for Blackwing.” Dirk sighed and nodded.

“Good…” He smiled, sheepishly. “Sorry, it’s been… well, you know… trauma and being imprisoned and chased and all that… trust issues.” Todd nodded and smiled back.

“It’s fine.” Todd leaned back against the cabinet behind him and sighed. He looked over at Dirk and frowned. “So, if you have that whole holistic, be where you’re supposed to be thing, how come you can’t use it to keep away from those guys? Shouldn’t it like lead you to safety?”

“You’d think so, but it’s not usually an… in my favor sort of thing. As you could probably tell by the hole in my side.”

“And the CIA gun guys chasing you?”

“Yeah, and that.” Dirk yawned, he shifted so he was sitting along the back cabinets too where he could see the security monitor. His leg brushed up against Todd’s, and, once again, Todd was aware of how close he was. “What was your band’s name?” It took Todd a second to catch up. He glanced over and Dirk was looking at him intently again.

“Uh, it was called Mexican Funeral.” Dirk cocked his head.

“Mexican Funeral?” Todd smiled and quirked an eyebrow up, nodding.

“Yeah. I don’t really remember how we came up with the name. It was written on a napkin one night after my friends and I had gone out and gotten just completely wasted. We’d been talking about starting up a band, and then it was just there. We were…pretty good.”

“What happened?” Todd sighed.

“I fucked everything up.” Todd folded his legs to his chest, resting his arms on his knees. He shook his head. “I’m not… I’m kind of… like a huge asshole.” Dirk laughed, and Todd shot him a sharp look.

“Sorry, but you literally gave me the shirt off of your back tonight. That doesn’t really seem like something a ‘huge asshole’ would do.” Todd rolled his eyes, frustrated.

“Yeah, well, I’d hope that I’m not as much of an asshole that I was back then. I’ve tried to be…better… I guess? Stuff with my sister, with my family really messed me up.” Dirk didn’t say anything. He leaned closer, and Todd felt the press of his arm against his own, and helped. “I just… I don’t know, I’d hope that if they ever wanted to see me again, they could see that I’ve gotten better, but I’m just… I’m a broke cashier living in a shitty studio apartment with nobody and nothing.”

“Well, you’re at least doing better than me. You’re not the one that nearly impaled their intestines on a fence a few hours ago.” Todd laughed.

“I guess that’s true.” He heard Dirk yawn again, and the press of his arm on Todd’s side grew heavier, and he felt Dirk’s head drop onto his shoulder. “Dirk? You okay?” Dirk nodded into his neck, his hair tickling over his skin.

“Mmm? Yeah. Just tired,” he said quietly. “Todd?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you… could you hum that song from earlier?” His voice was so quiet that he could barely make out what he’d said, even with his mouth only a few inches from his ear. Todd nodded.

“Yeah, why not…” Todd started softly humming the song again. He kept humming even when he heard Dirk start snoring on his shoulder. After a while, Dirk’s hands started wandering, wrapping around Todd’s arm, hugging it to his chest. Todd sighed, the tired resignation just letting all this happen, and kept his eyes on the security monitor.

The rest of Todd's shift dragged on. There were still two hours until the next shift would come to relieve him. The first hour after Dirk passed out, clinging to his arm, he stayed on the floor, trying to shift around to keep his entire lower half from falling asleep. Dirk shifted after an hour, releasing his arm, and leaning into the corner of the counter, so Todd stood up, stretching out his sore muscles. He wandered around the store checking that everything was stocked and cleaned, but had the urge to get back behind the counter as quick as he could. He took a few minutes to clean up the first aid kit and wipe up any signs of the bloody mess that Dirk has left on the floor, and wrapped the trash and the bloody shirt he'd thrown away earlier in a couple plastic bags, and tucked it into his backpack. He was probably being a bit paranoid, but leaving bloody DNA evidence around was probably not the best idea.

At that thought, he turned back towards the sleeping man, taking the opportunity to take a closer look at him, now that he was asleep and quiet. He looked dirty and exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes, but also strangely well-kempt for someone on the run. There were smudges of some dark greasy substance across his neck and face, and some sticking in clumps of his reddish brown hair, and dirt powdered across his scalp and down his forehead, but he was clean shaven, hair, while dirty and a mess, looked like it had been nicely styled at some point, and the clothes he had been wearing were... not typical fugitive attire to say the least. A bright yellow leather jacket? Button down shirt? Nice brown leather shoes? He didn’t really seem like he knew what blending in means. He seemed a lot more inconspicuous wearing Todd’s flannel shirt. Todd picked up Dirk’s leather jacket from where it was still balled up on the floor and laid it over Dirk’s chest.

They made it through the last thirty minutes of Todd’s shift unscathed. He had a couple customers come in, nobody paying any attention to the soft sound of snores from behind the register, and Dirk didn't appear to shift at the sounds at all, continuing to sleep soundly on the cold tile floor. Todd sat on his stool checking and rechecking the security monitors for any sign of that big black van.

Finally, it was fifteen minutes before his shift was ending and the morning clerks would be showing up soon. Todd stretched up from his stool and tapped Dirk on the shoulder. Dirk groaned, squeezing his eyes tighter.

"Dirk." He groaned again and pulled his jacket over his head. Todd sighed. "Dirk, you need to wake up. My shift’s almost up. I’m going to need to hide you in the backroom or something. I don't want the other clerks to see you in case those guys come back and talk to them." Dirk mumbled something from under the jacket. Todd rolled his eyes. "What?" Dirk mumbled again and Todd yanked the jacket off his face and Dirk yelped, glaring at him. Todd raised an eyebrow.

"Goodness, no need for the violence… why don’t I just go out the front door?” Todd pressed his lips together tightly.

“You’re coming back to my apartment, remember? I parked behind the store, so it’ll be easier to get you out without being seen from the back.” Dirk huffed.

“Todd, I told you, I don’t want to put you in anymore danger.”

"It's fine. Just a couple hours, you can rest up, and then you can go." Todd ignored Dirk's continued protests, grabbing Dirk’s arm, and carefully helping him up from the floor. Dirk groaned, struggling to stand up, clutching his jacket to his chest, resigning to allow Todd to guide him away from the register. He hunched down, trying to keep out of view of the windows, and followed Todd through the door by the refrigerators that read 'Employees Only'. Todd led him back to a small supply closet with a mop bucket and cleaning supplies that smelled musty and wet, and waved him in. Dirk frowned and stared at him blankly. "Seriously?”

"The next shift is coming in like five to ten minutes. They clock in over there,"- he pointed at a grungy looking timeclock next to a shelf of time cards on the wall- "and they will see you if you're just hanging out back here. If they see you, and your friends come back in asking questions, then they will absolutely tell those guys. Because they're horrible. And they hate me, and everyone. And they'd probably laugh if I got shot by a bunch of crazy military agents of death." Dirk sighed and frowned, glaring in the tiny smelly closet.

"Can I at least use the toilet first?" Todd pointed across the small back room at a door marked 'employee bathroom'.

"I need to get back out there, but when you're done. In the closet. Got it?" Dirk nodded. Todd started to walk back to the door, but Dirk grabbed his arm and pulled him into a hug. Todd stiffened at first, confused by the sudden embrace, but then relaxed, wrapping his arms around him too. "Dirk?"

“Thank you, Todd.” Todd stroked over his back. Dirk shoved his head against Todd's shoulder, squeezing him tighter around his back.

“It’s alright," Todd said, still unsure of what was happening. Dirk's behavior had him getting a bit nervous, but there wasn't really time to deal with it. The day shift could be here any minute.

“I mean it. Just… thank you, okay? You’re not an asshole.” Dirk released the hug and wandered over to the bathroom. Todd frowned, watching the door close, and then returned to the front of the store.

He heard the toilet flush after a few minutes and the soft thud of a door closing and he was able to relax, just slightly, as he waited the last couple minutes. He watched the security monitors for any movements, and his eyes caught on the corner of the screen, causing his stomach to drop.

There in bright red. RECORDING.

Oh, fuck. Of course. If anyone sees that footage from last night.…

He saw the car of the day shift ladies pull past the back camera, disappearing into the blind spot behind the store, and his heart raced. He quickly scrolled through the security monitor menu, trying to remember the password for the saved recording folder. His boss had a horrible memory and he knew he had it written down around here somewhere. Todd heard the chime of the backdoor sensor and the sounds of laughing as the day shift ladies walked inside. He dug frantically through the drawers behind the register, finally finding the post it note with the password he was looking for. He entered it into the password pop up, and quickly deleted the file for the past 24 hours of recorded footage. He switched back over to the monitor screen just as the two ladies walked out, ignoring Todd, and shoving behind the counter. Usually, he'd be more bothered by their behavior, but he really just wanted to get out as quickly as possible. He rushed to count his drawer and close out, grabbed his backpack, and started heading to the back.

“Todd!” One of the ladies called out to him before he could reach the employee door. He stopped, turning back around, wondering what he had missed.

“Yeah?”

“Did the Pepsi guy drop off the deliveries last night?” Todd felt his muscles relax. He shook his head.

“Uh, no. They didn’t bring them.” She rolled her eyes, and turned back to the other clerk, apparently finished with Todd, and he took the opportunity rush through the door. He clocked out and ran to the supply closet and pulled the door open.

"Dirk, we-" He stopped, his voice cutting off as he saw inside the small room.

It was empty.

There was no Dirk.

Todd looked around, peering around the back shelves, but saw no sign that Dirk had been in there. He shut the door and rushed over to the bathroom. The door was already open, lights off, and, again, no Dirk. He felt like his stomach dropped down to the floor.

“Dirk?” He said in a hushed shout. There was nowhere else in the back that he could have gone. He hadn’t come through the front. Todd clenched his jaw, walking hesitantly toward the back door, not wanting to confirm his looming suspicions.

He walked out into the back alley, seeing his car, his coworkers car, the dumpster… and no sign of Dirk. Todd’s breath started to race and he shook his head.

“Dammit, Dirk.” He looked into the windows of both of the cars, and peeked inside the dumpster, but he already knew Dirk wasn’t going to be in any of them.

After a couple of minutes, desperately looking around, he finally gave in, accepting that Dirk had left. That strange hug, thanking Todd, he'd been saying good-bye, and Todd knew it, but hadn't wanted to, so he ignored it, and now, Todd wouldn’t ever know where he went or how he was or if he makes it away from those Blackwing guys. All he'd have is the blood covered shirt he had wrapped in plastic bags in his backpack and that card with the Blackwing guy’s phone number.

He let out a sigh that turned into a yawn and got into his car. It had been a long night.

He hoped that he’d catch a glimpse of bright yellow as he was driving back to his apartment, but other than the random school bus, there was no sign of that jacket. Not that day, not the next or the next...

A few days later, his boss called him, yelling about the missing security footage from his shift, and ranting about last chances and him not working out, and once again, he was unemployed.

Fortunately, Todd had seen some job posting about a bellboy position at a hotel downtown, so who knows… maybe that’ll be a little more exciting than being a cashier at the KwikMart… Only time will tell.

[psychedellic-phase]

Fifteen (pt 14)

A/N: Sorry for the delay! I’m back at college but the next, and final 2 (!!) parts will be up within two weeks! AH! Thank you all so much for reading xoxo

Word count: 6.7k

Tw: angst, cursing, vomiting, mentions of pregnancy and miscarriage

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

“When I got home from Florida the house was even emptier. During the four days I was stuck in a hotel room drowning in my own tears and the minibar, you packed up the rest of your stuff and left. At that point, most of your things were in your apartment, all you had to get was some clothes and books. I wonder how long it took you to pack it all up, pack your life with me up. Did you stare at the walls and cry? The same way I did when I packed today? Did you take your time, go through each room and remember everything we did? Did you take it all in? Admire what we could have been? Were you even a little bit sad about leaving the life we tried and failed to build together? Or were you in and out in ten minutes? Did you shove your clothes in a suitcase, the same way you did in Florida, and walk out like it was nothing? Was it easy? Was it a relief? Were you happy to leave the key, lock the door, and never have to come back? 

I know I was devastated when I found it. 

It was in the dish we used to put our car keys and ID tags in. It was right by the front door. It was the first thing I saw when I got home. I walked in and dropped my own keys in the dish, and to my surprise I heard them clink as they hit into yours. At first I thought that meant you were there, waiting for me. I thought you were going to emerge from the kitchen with a wide smile and I’d run into your arms. So, I called out for you, yelling like an idiot in the front doorway, but I was only met with silence. The silence that signified the absence of you. The silence I had grown comfortable floating in. 

I stared at the key for a while, trying and failing to remember when I gave it to you. I feel like I gave you it pretty early on; you definitely had one before Jacksonville. But I cannot for the life of me pinpoint what day I handed you the key, with the hope that you’d always have it. The hope that my home would always be your home because we only felt at home when we were together. 

That damn key, sitting in a dish from Target was your way of saying that your home was no longer my home. It was your way of saying that you were done too, and the storm I had tried to control became a full on hurricane. I was sobbing, sitting against the front door and holding onto your key like it was the life raft that could stop me from drowning.

I’d give you this key as your momento, but I had to give it back to my landlord this morning. And now I have a new set of keys waiting for me in Seattle. Keys to a home that isn’t yours; only mine.”

Spencer sat on the couch now, appreciating the softness of it in comparison to the harshness of the dishwasher and kitchen floor. The boarding pass was burning into the kitchen table, his hands sweaty and trembling as he read and remembered. 

He remembered every moment after the breakup more vividly than he normally did. Usually his memories were like film strips that he had stored on a shelf in the corner of his mind. He could pick the one he needed out, kick his feet up in the theater of his mind and watch them back, popcorn in hand. But these memories were different. Memories of you were burned in. His brain was branded with them. It wasn’t a movie he could choose to play or not, it was constant, like a sad song stuck in his head, driving him insane. He never stopped thinking about it, replaying every word, regretting every moment, every yell, every item shoved in a suitcase, every raindrop, every tear stained sleeve. 

He hated himself for walking out. He hated that he could leave so easily, after his whole life was plagued with people leaving him too easily. He never wanted to be that man, especially to you. He surprised himself when he grabbed the suitcase, held you tightly one last time, and got in the elevator. He was ashamed to admit that the second those steel doors closed and he could no longer see you crying in the hallway, the first thing he felt was relief. He was finally alone again.

But then he realized he was actually alone. All alone. You weren’t there waiting for him to come back anymore. You were gone, and he was alone. 

The whole flight home didn’t feel real, it was like an out of body experience. He felt like a shell of a person, a hollow body merely going through the motions as the events of the last three years played in his mind. How did those people who danced in the kitchen in the daybreak’s sunlight end up here? One of you on a plane to escape the other, who was no doubt drowning themselves in mini tequila bottles and crappy room service food. How did the people who swore  to love each other through everything, end up as two lonely hearts wondering why promises and hearts are so damn easy to break.

The numbness first started up there in the sky, with nothing but gray stratus clouds to keep him company. The realization hit him up there. He was wrong. He couldn’t do this alone. He couldn’t be alone. He needed you; you needed each other. He thought about asking the pilot to turn around, take him back to that island so he could save this. He could pull the blue velvet ring box out of his bag and fix everything with just a few words. 

But he didn’t. 

Instead, he ate airplane peanuts and tried not to cry. When they landed and took the subway out as far as it would go and walked to your house. He hadn’t even intended to go there, it just happened. He started walking and his feet brought him there without his brain having any say. He stared at the front of the house, remembering the countless times he carried you over the threshold because you couldn’t stand. He remembered how he’d decorate for Halloween in September and how the day after Thanksgiving, you’d beg him to take out the boxes of Christmas decorations. He remembered how you insisted on listening to ‘It’s Beginning to Look a Lot like Christmas,’ as he strung lights around the front porch and you made him hot chocolate.  

The house he saw now was bare. There were no Christmas lights strung on the front step, like they usually would have been by December fourth. There were no statues of snowmen and no wreath. It was just a house that was so clearly devoid of any and all love. 

He hadn’t thought about how the weather would be different there than in Florida, but the cold was comforting in a way. He didn’t bother changing. He stood in front of the house he no longer had any right to call his own, in flip flops, shorts, and a dress shirt. He allowed the cold air to bite at his skin until he was as numb on the outside as he was on the inside. 

He unlocked the door with his key, and took his time moving around. He started at the front door, where he saw the picture of the two of you at Rossi’s and his hatred for the four walls he used to call home came back. You hadn’t changed much of the place. The ultrasound was still pinned to the fridge with a smiley face magnet. Old flowers were hanging from the wall, case files littered the table. It looked like home, it just didn’t feel like home. 

He went through everything slowly, over several days. He started in the living room, where he saw the cave of blankets you’d no doubt been living in and the crack in his heart became a canyon. He should’ve been laying in those blankets with you, staring at the TV and listening to you drone on and on about how much you love Nick Miller. He hated that he wasn’t there with you. He climbed inside, in an attempt to make up for all the times he missed, and allowed the smell of you to envelope him. He dreamt of you. 

When he woke up the next morning, he smelled you again and instinctively reached out to pull you close to him, but when he did his hands were met by a mass of blankets rather than your warm skin. He sighed, and went into the kitchen. There he grabbed his favorite mug from the cabinet, filled it up, and sat at the table as he read the newspaper. He imagined you next to him, bringing him the sugar bowl and laughing at the name of the obscure town on the top of the page. 

“Where is Biwabik?” You’d say, pushing the sugar bowl over to him as he took two more spoonfuls.

“Minnesota,” he’d say plainly, reading about their local fireman’s bazaar.

“Oh, yeah, Biwabik, Minnesota,” You’d laugh and kiss his forehead before going upstairs to take a shower. 

He finished his coffee while staring at the gray sky. He hoped it would snow, so when you came home you’d be greeted by your favorite weather. 

He took a blisteringly hot shower and opened up your body wash just so he could memorize what it smelled like, just in case he never got to smell it again. The hot water defrosted his inner and outer numbness, allowing all his feelings to come to the top. The water mixed with his tears, the same way yours had with the rain. He was waiting for the day dream to end, all he wanted was to hear the sound of you opening the shower curtain, poking your head and asking, “Can I join?”

But that soothing sound never came. 

He stood under the hot water until it went cold, and moved into the bedroom. He stared at the bed he used to curl up next to you in. He found it hard to even look at, considering the last time he slept in it he woke up to the sheets being stained in blood. He moved to sit on the bed, trying not to disturb the specific way you made it. He looked at the sticky note you had placed next to you. It was from him, saying ‘I went in a little early today, didn’t want to disturb you on your day off. I can’t wait to see you at 6. I love you, Love.’ He smiled, knowing you placed it there so it was the first thing that you saw when you woke up each morning. But then he remembered that you put it there because each morning you weren’t waking up next to him. This note was as close as you could get. 

He looked through your drawers, smiling at the CalTech hoodie folded neatly on top. He decided to leave that one in the drawer. That way you’d always have a physical piece of him, even though you’d always have his heart. 

He moved from there into the nursery. It was empty. A regular person would just think it was a green spare bedroom, but he knew. He knew which wall the crib was going to go on. He knew that the hook from the ceiling was meant for the mobile Penelope had made. He knew what should’ve been there. 

Spencer spent three entire days in the house. He ate there, slept there, cried there. He felt all the feelings he’d been running from, and regretted that he hadn’t stayed with you to feel them together. 

Rossi was right, the only way through this was to lean on each other. Spencer hadn’t. He leaned as far away from you as he could. He realized just how lonely that two-bedroom could feel, and he understood how you’d nearly gone crazy in there. He was there for three entire days, and felt like he aged fifty years. Somehow, he felt closer to you than he had in months, even though you were 1,074.6 miles away in a hotel room he should’ve been in too. 

He talked to the moon each night, begging it to answer him. He didn’t know what to do. Should he let you go? Isn’t that the saying? ‘If you love something, let it go. If it doesn’t come back it was never yours in the first place’? Would you ever come back? Were you ever his? Was he ever really yours? Should he honor your wishes to break up? Should he pack this life up and leave without any closure? Without a proper goodbye? Or should he wait for you there? Kiss you the second you walked in the door and tell you that he was a fool, an idiot, that no one ever meant as much to him as you do? Should he fight for you?

But then he heard your voice ringing in his ears, “Don’t bother.”

“Don’t bother.”

“Don’t bother.”

And he didn’t. He packed his few things up, took one long, final look around with tears in his eyes, dropped his spare key in a dish, and walked home alone. 

“You forgot a few things, of course. You forgot the watch. You forgot the CalTech hoodie. You forgot your favorite mug. You can tell it’s well used and well loved because there’s a permanent coffee stain in the porcelain around the top where you always let it sit because it was too hot to drink. 

I gave you the mug my first day back to work. I couldn’t stand looking at it every time I opened the cupboard. I decided to be nice, give it to you as a peace offering before we started onto the uphill battle that was working together. I’d also like to consider this whole box a peace offering. I’m not mad at you. I don’t hate you. It’s the complete opposite, Spence. I love you too much to just watch you and not be with you. 

Three weeks after Florida, Hotch called me in for another mandatory evaluation. And I passed. I passed because I went to the counselor. I talked to Dr. Stevens for an hour and a half every Thursday and Sunday morning. I’d go in and he’d give me a glass of water and we’d chat. Sometimes it was about work, turns out I have a lot of pent up grief from all the things I’ve seen, but usually it was about us. I think I spent at least an hour and fifteen minutes each week talking about us. I told Dr. Stevens about every memory I’ve included in these letters. I told him about all of it, from the day I realized I love you, to the day I realized that I couldn’t anymore.

It was hard, probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I had to pour my heart out to someone who didn’t know me. I had to pour my heart out to someone who wasn’t you. I had to grieve the loss of a child and of a lover at once. But to my surprise, he helped. In a weird way, he seemed to understand. I know that’s just because it’s his job, he is literally trained to understand and help people with their grief, but I feel like he knew me. Not nearly the way that you did, but he knew me.”

A dark green monster formed in Spencer’s chest. The thought of another man learning about you in the way he had was enough to make his mouth taste sour. You let this other man into the most intimate parts of your brain, places only Spencer had ever gotten to go before. Did Dr. Stevens know you better than him? He couldn’t help the envy blooming in his chest at the idea. He wanted to be the person you poured yourself out to, and he had been. He wanted that back. 

“I’m doing better. That’s how I passed the eval. A male grief counselor helped me through my grief, which you said wouldn’t work. And you were wrong. I must admit it gives me a little bit of joy to tell you that. For once, Spencer Reid, you were wrong. And maybe if you had just agreed to go with me, you would feel better too. If you had just agreed, we never would have had that fight. You never would have packed a suitcase and gone down an elevator alone. 

I was right. For once in our lives, I was right, and you were wrong. I just wish it was about something more trivial than this. 

My first day back was a Wednesday, about a month and a half ago. I was terrified. I hadn’t seen you since Florida and everyone knew what had happened. Hell, my first day back in DC after the breakup, Derek sat me down with a bottle of tequila and let me cry until the couch was underwater. I just knew it would be awkward and painful and sad. I knew that our friends would stare at us and ‘pick sides’ as if we had suddenly become enemies. I was scared to sit at my desk across from yours and have to look at you. I was scared of the feelings. I was scared of all the progress I’d made in counseling going down the toilet the second I laid eyes on you, and I was right.

I showed up that morning in my best pencil skirt and blouse and pretty red heels. I did my hair. I put on makeup. I tried to make myself look good, so then I’d feel good. I had to fake it, so you wouldn’t be able to see the real me. I caked on makeup to cover up the bags under my eyes from crying over you for weeks. I brushed my hair and strands kept falling out because my hormones changed and I couldn’t eat most nights. I wore black tights so you wouldn’t be able to see the bruises on my knees from the nights I drank and cried and ended up with my head in a toilet, knees bumping the cold tile floor; desperately wishing it was morning sickness, so you’d be close behind me, rubbing my back and taking care of me.

When I exited the elevator, everyone greeted me as usual. I got hugs from the whole team, but you didn’t budge from your desk. You were staring at a book that I know you weren’t reading because you weren’t turning the pages. You were listening to me say hi to Rossi, tell him I missed him, and I could swear eyes flicked towards me a few times when I hugged Derek. That’s probably just wishful thinking, because I wanted you to look at me. I wanted you to see me, see that I was “fine.” I wanted you to look at me because I couldn’t stop looking at you. You, who I fell in love with over these same BAU desk partitions. I saw the ghosts of me and you three years ago, young and happy, your hair curling over your eyebrow, your pursed lips, the way your tie was just slightly crooked. I saw the you I wanted. I saw the man I stared at with lovesick stars in my eyes as we filled out Hotch’s paperwork. I saw me and you and Jacksonville and Meridian Hill Park and everything that we could have been.

And I cracked.

You didn’t even have to speak to me, Spencer, and I cracked.

I dropped my bag on the floor next to my desk and ran to the bathroom to cry off the makeup. Seeing you felt like I was drowning but on fire at the same time. I swear time stopped for a moment when I exited Garcia’s hug and saw you across the BAU. And suddenly I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t remember a single coping mechanism Dr. Stevens showed me. I just stood there. Frozen. Trepidation. Regret.

I stared at myself in the shitty flourescent lights of the bathroom, tears washing away my concealer and exposing the dark bags that matched my blood shot eyes. I stared at the way my cheek bones hollowed out since I’d lost over twenty pounds. I stared at a person I didn’t recognize, and that’s when I realized that I wasn’t the same person you fell in love with over the BAU partition either. I wasn’t the chirpy girl helping you jump start your car anymore. I wasn’t the same girl who bought your mother’s favorite book just to try and impress her. I wasn’t me. You weren’t you. So how could we possibly be us?”

Hotch had called Spencer into his office that morning to tell him you would be coming back.

“Is this going to be an issue?” He said, Spencer fiddling with his thumbs in an attempt to hide from Hotch’s stare.

“No, no problem.”

Hotch knew he was lying, and Spencer knew Hotch knew he was lying, but he was nice enough to let it go.

He sat at his desk and opened that book on epicureanism with the full intention of reading it. He was going to immerse himself in that in an attempt to avoid you. But when he opened the cover, the letters all jumbled together like alphabet soup on the page. Then he heard the familiar clack of your heels, and he looked up, just for a second. He noticed how beautiful you looked, but he recognized the sadness in your body. It was the same sadness he saw in his own every morning as he struggled to find the will to move from his position in bed.

He hadn’t gone to a counselor and learned coping mechanisms, the only one he knew was avoidance, but how could he avoid you? How could he avoid the way your smell lingered even after you dropped your bag and bolted to the bathroom? How could he avoid staring at the way Derek wrapped his arms around you, wishing they were his instead? How could he avoid the persistent, twisted, aching heart in his chest? How had he managed to avoid you for so long? He saw you up close, in the place you fell in love, for just a moment and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to kiss you. 

“When I got back from the bathroom, I knew you could see me. You could see the real me, the me you didn’t want. 

I decided I wasn’t going to make this as painful for everyone else as it was for us, so I grabbed my bag, took the mug out and handed it to you. 

“I, uh, I found this in the cabinet,” I said weakly, and you grabbed it, our fingertips just brushing each other, an action that usually sent lightning down my spine, “I know it’s your favorite one so I wanted you to have it back.”

“T-Thanks,” You cleared your throat, “I’ll go fill it up with coffee. Want one?”

I smiled through the pain, proud of myself that our first interaction went well, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

You brought me a coffee, made correctly. Cream and one sugar. I took it from you with a fake smile, trying to force back the pain in my chest.

Derek watched that entire painfully awkward interaction, and he pulled me into his office after.

”You good? That was a lot back there.”

 I whined, “No. I’m not good. I’m actually very bad.”

He sighed and pulled me in for a hug, “You’ve got this. You and Reid can handle it. We all know you still love each other.”

I started to cry into his chest, just softly. I didn’t need anyone else seeing how broken I was.

“Why did I think I could do it? I should just transfer.”

That was the first time I considered it out loud. The thought had been rattling around in my head for a bit, but saying it made it real.

Derek argued, “No, you don’t need to transfer.”

“Yes I do! Hotch said as much three years ago.”

“Just focus on getting through today, okay?”

I nodded, taking three deep breaths with Derek’s arms on my shoulders, keeping me grounded.

That’s when Penelope opened the door, poking her head in and telling us it was wheels up in twenty.

“You can stay here with me,” She said, coming over to hug me.

I shook my head, wiping away my last few stray tears, “No, I’ve been gone for far too long. I’m coming back.”

She smiled, “I’m so glad you are.”

We all went on the jet, Hotch insisting he’d brief us in the air. I sat at a window seat, next to Derek and across from Hotch and Rossi. You, Alex, and JJ sat opposite from us. I could feel the tension, the passing glances, the sides being chosen, the hushed voice you spoke in so I wouldn’t hear you or even look at you. I felt like an outcast in a plane full of my favorite people.

The case was in Las Vegas. Of course my first case back had to be in your hometown. Of course it had to be in a place that felt like a second home for me. 

“Morgan, Y/N, take the latest crime scene,” Hotch ordered me, and I let out a nervous sigh that was much louder than I intended. You all turned to look at me, expressions varied from pity from Hotch to annoyance from you.

Hotch looked me up and down, “Actually, Y/N come with me to the precinct.”

“I-uh-okay?” I said, feeling embarrassed and small and useless and worthless. Because while you got to look at the bodies, I got to look at sweaty Vegas cops.

He didn’t think I could handle it. No one did. None of you thought I could, and guess what? You were right.

I fell apart. That entire case I was a wreck. My brain didn’t work right. I couldn’t profile, crime scene photos made me want to cry, I could barely even look at the family members.

I was actually useless there. I was useless because of you. Because the way the files smelled reminded me of you and I had to watch you talk to Alex and JJ and not talk to me and I had to watch the way you scrunch up your nose and the way your hair falls in your eyes and you brush it away. Because you had all the answers and I had none. Because you were always everything, and I merely accompanied you. Because you’re more of an asset to them than five of me would be.

And that’s why I left.

I left because after that case you stayed back for a day and saw your mom, and usually I would’ve been there with you. I left because that flight home was empty without you, even though you weren’t even looking at me. I left because I don’t know what’d I’d do if you ever got hurt and I wasn't the one sleeping in your hospital bed with you. I left because I cannot live in a life that I shared with you anymore. I left because I love you too much to stay.

When we landed in Quantico that day, I went to the bathroom again to cry. Derek followed me but I shoved him off. I locked myself in a stall and screamed one of those silent screams when you’re too angry and frustrated to even make a noise.

I stared at myself in the mirror again. I wasn’t okay. I hadn’t accepted that part yet. I’d accepted everything else except for the fact that I was broken, and no amount of hugs from Penelope or stolen glances at you were going to fix it. The only thing that would fix it was going as far away from you as possible.

I got my transfer papers from Hotch the next day.

He argued, told me to rethink, told me to take more days off, told me that it would all get better with time.

“Reid’s reasonable,” He said, “And if it’s time–”

“No, I know that I want to transfer. You said so yourself. If it got too hard, I’d have to go. Well it’s too hard, Aaron. I have to go.”

He sighed, “What unit? I can get you a place almost anywhere. Sex crimes? Back in organized?”

I twiddled my thumbs and sighed, “LA?”

“LA?,” He shook his head and gestured for me to sit down, “Sit Y/N. We need to talk about this.”

He went on a very convincing lecture then. He almost got me to stay, but the only person who actually could’ve gotten me to stay was you. At the end he reluctantly gave me the paperwork and told me, “I hope you don’t regret this.”

I really, really, hope I don’t.

The papers sat in a file folder on my desk for three weeks, taunting me. I hadn’t gotten up the nerve to fill them out yet. I’m not sure what I was waiting for. I think maybe I was waiting for you, or maybe I was waiting for it to get better. Waiting for it to not hurt every time I looked over at you or heard you laugh with JJ. But after three weeks, I realized that was never going to happen. It was never going to stop hurting me or stop hurting you, so I filled out the papers last  Thursday, and five days later Hotch told me about Seattle. I immediately accepted, and packed up my desk.

Except for this, your item for this letter, my name plate. “Y/N Y/L/N Supervisory Special Agent- Behavioral Analysis Unit” doesn’t really belong on my new desk. The nameplate reminds me of pining over you across the round table and Emily poking my shoulder and telling me ‘just go for it!’ It reminds me of sneaking into your hotel room on cases and double-cheek kisses from Rossi. It reminds me of filling out paperwork to declare our relationship, and filling out paperwork to get away from it. It reminds me of us, all of us. It reminds me of my old life. The life I’d like to leave behind, so it’s yours.”

Spencer’s fingers traced the engraved letters of your name, one by one, his mind far away recalling that case and the few days when he stayed back in Las Vegas. He saw his mom for the first time since everything happened. 

The first day he visited and the nurses told him it was a good day, one of her best days in recent history. He smiled sadly, knowing that what he was about to share would make it one of the worst.

He walked into her room, every muscle tensed. Diana smiled, wrapped her arms around him warmly and the first thing she did was ask for you. 

“When I heard I was getting a visit I was thrilled! Where’s Y/N? Gosh she must be big by now.”

He avoided her gaze, as if he was a child avoiding being scolded, “Y/N isn’t coming.”

“She’s not?” She asked, and Spencer immediately regretted not telling her about the last two months sooner. He kept putting it off, not quite knowing how to break his mother's heart while dealing with his own. 

“No, mom, and I think you should sit down.”

“Sit? Spencer, sweetheart, what is it? You’re worrying me.”

He sat down, knee bouncing and hands fidgeting just to release some of the pent up energy inside of him, “Y/N and I, we–we broke up.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, just as his always did, lips pressed into a line, “Spencer Reid you left a pregnant girl? I raised you better than that!”

He bit his lips, not knowing exactly how to say the words that came next, “Mom, Y/N, she–“ He stopped himself, correcting himself for once, “We lost her.”

Diana’s mouth fell open slightly, “Lost the baby?”

Spencer couldn’t do much but nod, the tears he had been forcing back for weeks flooding his eyes and running over like a waterfall. His eyes were shut, the shame of it all overcoming him. 

The next thing he felt were her arms around him, pulling him close as he fell apart. 

“Th-there was nothing I could do, nothing anyone could do,” he choked out between ragged breaths, “I-I should’ve been able to do something! I should’ve been able to protect her and I didn’t and now—”

She cut him off, her cold hands rubbing the tears off his hot cheeks, “Sometimes things just, well they just happen.”

He nodded, “And then Y/N…”

“Spencer, how’d you let her go?”

He shrugged, wiping at his nose, “I-I don’t know. I can’t believe I left. I just—“

His voice was getting rushed and his breath was getting quick, like he was drowning in tears and regret. 

“Shh, stop,” She said, hands running through his hair the same way they did when he was a boy, “You’ve already lost so much, don’t lose her too.”

When he left his mother that day he took her words to heart. He wasn’t going to lose you too, he was going to make up for those two months. When he arrived back in DC, his first stop was your house. He knocked on the door, go-bag on his shoulder. There was no answer. He knocked again. And again. And again. 

You never opened up.

He was expecting you to open the door and smile at him and invite him inside, but the door stayed locked, his key to it being inside. That night he stayed on the step until one in the morning, when he begrudgingly got in his car and drove away. The next night he came back, and the next, and the next, and the next, the door always staying shut. He left each time feeling more and more defeated.

He knew you were in there, he could see your shadow appear and disappear, and every night he’d stay until the January air became too much to bear. He swore he could hear you slide down the door a few times, sitting as close back to back with him as possible. 

He went every night until one day, when he was laying against the cold door, half asleep and frostbitten, Derek appeared in front of him.

“Reid,” He whispered, voice sympathetic but also stern, “You gotta stop doing this. This isn’t healthy.”

Spencer stood up, his breath visible as he spoke, “I know.”

“She isn’t going to let you in.”

“I know,” he mumbled, fixing his wool coat and starting to walk away. Derek watched him as he made his way across the snow-covered yard. He turned around and called to him.

“Morgan! Just, just tell her I’m sorry. Tell her I miss her.”

Derek nodded, opening your front door and entering the place Spencer wished he could be: with you. 

“I don’t know what happened to you in Vegas, but when you came back, you were different. At work you still avoided me like I was a rat with the plague, but then every night I’d hear you knocking on my door, begging to be let in.

“I love you,” you’d say, “I take it all back.” As if you ever could. 

I’d sit on the stairs that face the door, head in my hands, trying to find the willpower to keep the door closed. Then I’d see your key, sitting in the dish you put it in, and it was easy to keep the door closed, because you’re the one who shut it.

You came almost nightly for a week. I’d always look through the peephole. I’d sit with my back to the door the same way yours was. I’d wrap myself in a blanket and sleep there, as close to you as I could, but I kept the door shut.

I know it’s terrible, but part of me wishes that we never met. That instead I stayed making espresso shots in Connecticut and never went back to this life. In this wish, Dave never called me. I never saw your dopey smile and immediately fell in love. Maybe then you wouldn’t be all I think about. Maybe then you’d get out of my head, because as long as I know you, I’ll never love anyone else.

But that way of thinking is behind me. Now, I see you as a lesson I had to be taught. I learned how to love, and how I deserve to be loved. I learned how to smile and laugh and really care about someone other than myself. I learned how to grieve and appreciate my life and I learned what real, true love is. I learned about soulmates and science and how to smile so hard my cheeks hurt. I learned how to let go.

But I learned hard lessons too; like that the Beatles were wrong, love isn’t all you need. You need passion and commitment and happiness and compromise. I learned that sadness can be a greater emotion than love. I learned that heartbreak is real and sometimes the people you love more than anything in this world can hurt you. And I’m grateful to you, for every lesson you ever taught me. I’m grateful for every single second I spent with you. I’m grateful for you, Spencer Reid.

Thank you.”

“Thank you”

He could practically hear you whisper it to him.

He found it funny that you were thanking him for breaking your heart, time and time again, because all he felt was regret.

He glanced up at the clock, realizing that he needed to leave now if he had any chance of making the flight to you. He haphazardly collected the letters and all the objects you gave him from where he placed them around the apartment. He grabbed a duffle bag, stuffing it with clothes and whatever things he thought he may need. He grabbed the ring box, debating for a moment whether or not it was too much, too soon. He decided to throw caution to the wind.

What is it Morgan says? Go big or go home?

Spencer was going big, and you were coming home. 

He kicked the front door closed as he left, box overflowing with papers and the ring box burning in his back pocket.

Letter fifteen would have to wait.

Part 15!

 —————————

Taglist

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[1000roughdrafts]

Family Secrets: Chapter Fourteen

Town That Never Stops Smiling 

Summary: Being transported to Teraw leaves you tired and confused, but the path to the truth is a long and needy road. 

Warnings: slight angst, slightly OOC Dean 

W/C: 3.2k

Masterlist/schedule

The four of you walk in silence through the field and onto a dirt road. Walking towards the bridge, you peer over at the glistening water underneath it. Dean squints at her, shaking his head, "all right. So where we headin'? Motel? Get some grub?"

Allanah giggles, "no. Here, there are no hotels, as they have no need for them. No one is allowed to travel between the regions without a request from the Head of the Region. From there, the Head provides them with a place to stay, whether that be in his or her own quarters, or at a volunteers. On the topic, we need to be careful about how we interact with the people and places here. It's big enough that we won't be noticed right away, but if we stay in one place too long there are going to be issues," Allanah says while you make your way to the start of the bridge.

"Uh, so what happens if we do get caught?" Sam asks in a whisper, looking around at the decaying bridge and trees that surround it.

As sweet as can be, Allanah smiles, "think American TSA meets intense CIA interrogations," she smirks. "In other words, let's just not get caught." Dean frowns which puts her attention onto him, "you're going to struggle with this the most, Dean, I can already feel it. But Y/N, you've felt it deep down, haven't you? A mother's love is not to be taken lightly, even beyond death."

You keep quiet, peaking over at Dean. He holds contempt in his face, trapped behind that stoic expression but easy to see the swirl of emotion in his eyes. He wants to scream out and ask questions, but what could he say? He has children, or at least a past version of him did and he knows nothing of it, but Y/N does? 

Luna - June 26, 2068

Teraw - Region 3

Complete darkness goes so well with shattering silence. I have known nothing other than the darkness and cherish the quiet. The only thing I hate about the silence is that it traps me in a world of uncertainty. With nothing to grip onto, I succumb to the thoughts raging in my mind like an ocean under a full moon; but it is a beautiful thing.

Just as I am trapped in my mind I am trapped in my body. No movement in my arms, torso, hands, legs, feet or face. I can not open my eyes, nor can I move my lips. Absolutely nothing works anymore. Well, almost nothing. Miraculously my ears can hear anything from a train passing by to a mouse three stories down.

I am surrounded by so much noise in the day that I look forward to the treacherous words my mind whispers to me as I lay to sleep. I rely on my ears so much these days, as it's the only sense I've got left. There's this single sound I hear more than anything. It has a set pace, just as a metronome would tick along to keep the beat of a song. Beep. Beep. Beep. I don't live like many others, they say I'm lucky to be alive at all.

I hear my family as they trickle in, their footsteps are quick and loud. It breaks my concentration on the ticking. The stepping stops, I hear sniffling, deep breaths and then suddenly, "Luna, it's your mama. Can you hear me?" Yes, I hear you. I want to say it. 

"I should start at the beginning," Allanah sighs, slowing her walk to a gentle stroll. "The two of you, Shirley and Bill you used to be called," she laughs lightly. "You enlisted me as a," she motions her hand around, scrunching her face, "guardian of sorts for your five children, quintuplets," she laughs again. "Wren, Ana, Tullie, Aidan and Luna." 

You and Dean lock eyes, "Luna?" he says, pointing at you, "the girl that's-" 

"Indeed," Allanah lets out a long breath, watching the ground somberly. "It's very sad what has happened to her," she says. "There's evil in this realm that neither of you could predict. It's what sent me back to Earth, locked me out. It wasn't until after I'd ended things with Crowley and found Y/N that I remembered who I truly was and what you created me to be. I needed to do something, anything, to bring the two of you back to this realm to fix what had been broken." 

Coming to a stop at the start of the bridge, Allanah looks into her hands, "your children, they," looking back up between you and Dean. "They are very powerful, yet they don't know it. Not anymore, at least." 

"What do you mean?" Sam tilts his head. 

"Each of them possess qualities and powers of an element specific to Earth. When Bill and Shirley created this realm, you split the children up into regions. This was done to protect them, or so you said. Teraw was specific to Luna, but with you two gone and evil sneaking in, the regions had grown a mind of their own," she lowers her voice, "it's gotten out of control. Ana was born in Inequescent, but with the latest reincarnation, the family Ana was brought into grew tired and she was adopted by a family here in Teraw. What I know to be happening soon is that because of Luna's sickness, Tullie will be requested to come help her. Horrible things are in store for the regions, unless we can stop it.”  

"Like what?" Dean asks. 

"This evil... it wishes to gain control of the other regions. After that, other dimensions... like Earth." 

Tullie - June 6, 2068 Hemort - Region 4

A day off is a luxury when one has specialized skills in the medical profession, at least for those in Hemort. I usually try to wind down and relax on those two short days, or tune into my favorite channel to watch some gushy movies about how everything always works out in the end, and everyone is just so nice. They make me sick, and yet I can't bring myself to watch anything else. In my day to day life, I don't always get to see the happy endings. Moreso, with my line of work, I see death more than any sane person should. And that begs the question; am I really as sane as I believe myself to be? 

I admire the house on the screen and the characters who live in it, wondering what it would be like to have a big house with a yard and a cute dog who gets to enjoy it. There's not much of that here, only the Elite live on large plots of land. Instead, I rent this quaint apartment with the ceiling to wall windows I'd dreamt of having since I was young. When the new owner bought the complex, she planted the most beautiful garden and elegant, tall trees on either side of the building, which is better than the concrete nothingness that resided there before.

Pausing the movie, I unravel myself from underneath the blankets to make some tea, although I'd never be able to make it as calming and tasty as my mother had. The storm doesn't help to calm me either, with the trees rattling against the windows and begging to come inside. While waiting for the kettle to boil, I close the blinds and play the movie. I could stand to miss a little of it if it means I don't have to listen to that screaming sound the wind makes.

While adding honey to the mug in preparation, my phone rings. I'm not expecting a call, so I don't scatter to answer it. I pull the kettle and turn down the dial on the stove before going back to the couch to rummage through knitted blankets for my cell. 

"Hello," I say, putting the phone between my ear and shoulder as I make my way back to my tea. 

"Hi, Tullie," the voice says, calmly and sweetly. I spill boiling water onto my hands at the surprise, and curse myself for not checking the caller ID. How dare he call me at this hour. 

"What do you want, Dan?" 

After a heartbreaking pause, he speaks out, "this is not a personal call, okay? I don't care how you're doing. I don't want to know what you're doing. I don't even care if you're hiding from the storm in a cup of tea right now,  or watching those stupid puke inducing movies, I-" I hear him sigh, "this is about the hospital," he says swiftly. 

"Mine or yours?" 

"Why would I be calling about yours? Listen, I have my hands tied on a case over here. I could really use your help. No one has a clue on what to do. They put me on this, but," he pauses and his voice shifts down a tone, "I'm really in over my head." 

"How does no one there know what to do? Your hospital is the best out of all five districts." 

"This case is really strange, Tu-" 

"Don't," I sharply cut him off and take the phone in my hand before he can finish my name. "Please, don't call me that. It's Doctor Marion." 

There is a silence between us as I make my way back to the couch, gripping my mug with both hands and the phone resting back on my shoulder. 

"You know I wouldn't be calling you if I wasn't out of options, but this girl," he sighs. "She's been out for three weeks. There is nothing in her medical history that would help to explain her state. Her parents have no idea what happened, they said they just found her like this." 

"Okay, so assuming it's a coma," I say, mostly thinking out loud. Then back to him, I condescend, "are you sure it's not locked-in state? Er, what about psychogenic unresponsiveness?" 

"Of course, what do you take me for?" he says in a short, agitated breath. "Look, it's absolutely a coma with no explainable source. We've taken MRI's and Cat Scans and still can not locate the site of her brain that's causing it." 

"Were there drugs involved?" 

"No, we did blood work after taken her vitals. No drugs in her system, vitamin levels are all normal and we've been monitoring her brain waves while she's been here. It's like she went to sleep one night and just... didn't wake up." 

"It sounds like you've done everything I would have, so why are you calling me?" 

"Tu - Doctor Marion, I know you-" 

"No, you knew me," I softly yell, foolishly pointing a finger in the air as if he were in front of me. Quieter now, I keep a harsh tongue, "I'm not the same person I was then, you played a huge role in that. I changed myself for the better. I never wanted to hear from you again. The last thing I need is to be reminded..." I trail off before the tear in my eye can drop and listen to the actors giggling on the television. 

"Reminded of what?" Dan asks, in that same torturous way he'd always comforted me in the past. 

"It doesn't matter. I'm going to bed. You'll get an answer tomorrow." Forgetting the tea, I barricade myself in blankets and cry myself to sleep. 

As you walk along the bridge, Allanah continues, “for the first long while that I was here, things were fine. The churches were full, as were the pubs and shops. That’s the way many enjoyed it for a great while, but when those who opened their eyes fought back?” She sucks in air through her teeth, “well, let’s just say blood was shed, and tears were shared.” 

She moves her hands around and slows her steps, “allow me to take this back in time. They followed a set of standards. A hierarchy of social standings and if one was not near the top, they were not worth a loaf. The weight of one’s standing held in community intervention in threefold. It started with the preparation and bringing about of their first church. Many thought that if one was of fellowship they were among deities.” She laughs softly, “as I, the only guardian of this realm, knew there were no deities, just little old me. It was comical. And per the two of you, I was never allowed to step in or intervene.” 

“That’s stupid,” you mutter under your breath, watching your steps along the bridge. 

“Blacksmiths, clergymen, doctors and carpenters were just below, and seen as noble. Those however that farmed land, crops and livestock were seen at the bottom. Along with butchers, dairymaids, tailors, barbers, and the like were noted to be Sepulchers. It’s worth noting, that this system was not one that you two brought in place.” 

“Sepulchers?” Sam twists his face. 

“No one had an inkling as to why, but it was surmised that it was in reference to those folk being just as untitled as the many of the graves placed just outside of this bridge.” 

Dean folds his lips down in a nod, looking around at the piles of dirt outside of the river and under the bridge. 

“After segregating with an older congregating with an older woman who called herself Minerva, it was she that determined there was power in numbers. There were more of them than there were in the fellowship and just as one might catch a second wind, they found their strength. It started at first with the announcement. The Town Crier, also among the Sepulchers, had begun his course into the Town Whisperer, and could be found in the benighted area, or circumferential. They conspired many gatherings and prepared for battle, if need be so. The churches grew ever suspicious as their totality grew by the day. Minerva conducted the rough fifty to leave their work for another day,” she sighs, “and then another. This war lasted for years, reaching all five regions and the only thing that I could do was try and protect your children, and carry them through their reincarnations. I had made many, many attempts to reach out to the two of you and all had fallen short.” 

She focuses on the boards of the bridge and the squeaking they make as you walk over them, “a man by the name of Henry took to ending the war, and was appointed the Head of Teraw for his efforts. This man’s son is now the Head and Luna’s father in this realm. I wasn’t here to place them into the proper families,” she sighs, “and now I worry he’s stirring up trouble.”

Ana - June 6, 2068

Teraw - Region 3 

These briefings make me feel less of who I want to be. I understand the importance of putting together the minds of professional colleagues to come to a conclusion on how to move forward with whatever case we happen to be discussing. However, as someone who works in healthcare, forgive me for stating that I find them to be quite menial. It's usually the same act every day; Dan will turn up late, I drum my fingers on the table, Mary doesn't say a damn word and Nathan does most, if not all, of the talking. 

I'm mid-yawn through one of Nathan's monologues as a pink-haired woman wearing sweatpants, a tank top and a light cardigan walks in. I can only assume she is lost with the confusion draped on her face, so I stand to redirect her. Nathan, the natural born leader that he is, smiles and holds a hand out to her. 

"You must be Doctor Marion. I'm Chief Nathan Scott. Dean speaks very highly of you." Her confusion is overtaken by a smile as she accepts the greeting, "I understand your decision to be here was quite rash, so we'll excuse the lapse in dress code this one time," he jokes. 

I mask a chuckle by returning to my seat and shuffling through my papers. He pulls out his pocket watch and just barely inspects it before looking back up at her. With a careless wave of his hands and a slight shrug he says, "Dan should be arriving soon. If you know him like we do, you would know he's late to everything." 

She laughs softly, looking at her feet. "Go ahead and take a seat right there, next to Ana." He gestures over to me and smiles. I do not. "She doesn't bite, I promise." I might. 

"Enough," Nathan says as if he's heard one too many of Dan's jokes. Then again, we all certainly have. Dan glides across the room, briefcase in tow, and plops into the chair next to Mary. "First of all," Nathan goes on, sitting at the head of the table. He pulls a stack of papers from his own briefcase and shifts to Doctor Marion. "I need you to look over and sign these before we can proceed, for patient privacy and all that." 

"I understand," she squeaks out and inches her chair close to the table. She smiles when she's finished and pushes the papers back to Nathan, who inspects them thoroughly before carrying on with his speech. 

"Now, miss Luna's case is of high priority and exceptionally confidential." He classically folds his hands together and leans slightly into the table, facing me and the new doctor. "You see, her parents are what makes this town what it is." 

"And what is that, exactly?" 

"Powerful," I scoff. 

Approaching the end of the bridge, Dean grips onto your arm, pulling you to face him. “I want to know what’s going on. Damn it, Y/N, we haven’t talked in... ten months, and - and now we’re in an alternate dimension where apparently our kids live, and...” he flops his hands down at his sides, looking around before taking a step closer to you, holding up a finger, “and you knew about them?” 

“No,” you sigh, “I only had a feeling about it, I - I didn’t know for sure. I don’t even know how to explain it, it was just this gut feeling...” you trail off, not really understanding the whole thing yourself. 

Dean rolls his eyes, so you push on, “look, Dean, I’m sorry that you got dragged into this, but-” you take a deep breath, forcefully letting it out. He turns his eyebrows down, crossing his arms. “I don’t know what else to tell you,” you breathe. “What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry? That I never should have left? That I wish none of this was happening in the first place?” 

He continues to glare, and you take one small step towards him, your bodies merely inches from each other. 

“You never should have left, Y/N,” he scowls. “We were heading here from the beginning, Y/N. The only freaking difference is that we spent ten months apart from each other,” he says, voice crawling back into animosity. “I don’t know if I can trust anything you say to me now.” 

You drop your voice to a whisper, “I am sorry, Dean, for everything. I’m sorry that I left, again, but we - I can’t change any of that now, so we just gotta get through this, and when we get back home... if we get back home, we can go our separate ways if that’s what you want.” 

After a long pause, his face softens slightly, “no,” he says. Clearing his throat, his eyes move around your face, “no, Y/N. That’s the opposite of what I want. I want you. Even through all the shit we went through, I was happy with you. Why can’t you see that?” 

Next Chapter 

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Dean Queens <3: @flamencodiva​ @akshi8278​

[waitinginthedarke]

It Consumes Me

A BTS/Kim Namjoon Fanfiction

Summary: The minute he laid eyes on her he knew she was the one. But love is a battle of the mind and the heart, and when the voices in your head start winning, how can your heart possibly compete with a choice that consumed you before the very start…

Type: Angst/Love

Disclaimer: This story contains strong themes. Should a chapter be potentially triggering, it will be stated beforehand. (This chapter, is simply filled with fluff, with minor reference to strong themes.)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4

You could feel your phone vibrating for the billionth time in your pocket as you sat in your 4th class of the day, teeth grinding as you wonder what it was that your dad could be angry about this time, wishing you hadn’t pissed him off this morning.

Nervously looking around, you take the lifeline that everyone was silently studying to catch the professor’s attention to signal that you were going to the bathroom; with a barely susceptible nod of his head, you had bolted out of the door and across the corridor to the bathroom. Your hand shook as you took your phone out of your pocket, yet the second you see the caller id on the screen, your body floods with adrenaline and without hesitation you’re pressing answer.

‘Hello?’

‘Y/N? Are you okay?’

He sounded panicked. That was odd.

‘Uh…yeah…yeah, im in the middle of class though.’

‘Oh, im sorry. I-..You-..you just hadn’t responded to my text. …and I accidentally slept in this morning, so I haven’t had time to ring you back-‘

Taking the phone away from your ear momentarily, you see the message about your missed calls he was on about, frowning in annoyance at your own lack of awareness, before holding the phone to your ear once more.

‘-Y/N?’

‘I’m so sorry, Namjoon-ah. I’ve been in classes all day and I was just so focused on studying at lunch that-‘

‘Hey, y/n…calm down, its okay. …I was just-…what did you call me for this morning? Did you need me for something?’

His voice was calm and reassuring, with only a hint of concern lingering around the edges, the sound pulling your heart into a tumult of guilt as you think back to that morning and remember exactly why you’d called him.

‘Uh, yes…no, its fine now. I just…I ended up having to walk to college cause I couldn’t get a lift from my dad and I was just really upset--…actually it was really selfish of me to call you in the first place- I’m sorry for worrying you.’ You explain, skirting around the fact that you couldn’t get the metro because you didn’t want to waste money on the fair…and that really you’d only rang him because you’d wanted the comfort the sound of his voice brought you after your argument with your dad that morning.

‘Hey! You have no reason to be sorry,…I’m just sorry I couldn’t answer the call. I would have done anything to make you feel better…’

There is a breath of silence as you both imagine the feeling of being together again, the mutual thought floating through the phone and the overwhelming emotion that came with the feeling has you grappling for the sink to steady yourself.

‘…Hey, listen- are you doing anything later?’ he asks suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts, and you open your eyes to see the tiles of the bathroom floor swimming before you as you draw in a breath, struggling to recall your later plans.

‘I-uh…I’ve got to go study at the library-‘

‘Would you mind if I came to see you? I’ve got a bit of time after seven…and I kind of really miss you.’

The statement was so timidly… bold. If you closed your eyes you could imagine the look on his face as if he stood before you there and then...- and that was all the incentive you needed.

‘Please.’

It wasn’t the word you’d wanted to say, and you could tell it was slightly awkward by the gentle chuckle that resonates through the phone from him, but its that same noise that has your shoulders relaxing again despite the distressed butterflies cascading around your stomach.

‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

The excitement of having his presence before you quickly bring’s your attention back to the present moment and you remember that you had to go back to class; a sad yet anticipatory goodbye later, and you’re back in your seat with your professor side-eyeing you due to how long you’d been.

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

‘Hey, do you wanna go for a walk, Namjoon-hyung?’

After visiting the flower shop earlier that day during break practise and storing the bouquet he’d bought in a hidden crevice by the recycling bins at the dorm, Namjoon had gone back to rehearsal, before finishing for the day and finding himself as he did in that moment; at the desk in his room feigning interest in a song he’d been playing around with for the past few days.

He was contemplating the best way to surprise Y/n when Jungkook had peeked his head around the door to his room, the beady eyed gaze of the younger guy boring into the back of Namjoon’s head causing him to quickly change his train of thought to how he would let his friend down easily without giving anything away.

‘Not right now, Jungkook.’ He murmurs, flickering his eyes over the screen before him as he dismisses him, believing that since he technically hadn’t given any excuse at all, he wasn’t lying to him about not wanting to go out.

‘Ah…okay…’

He’d thought that would have been it, the simple dismissal usually being all it took to evade one of the other guys, but after a moment or two of silence in which the light from the door continued to spill into the room, Namjoon realized that Jungkook still wanted something.

‘Is everything okay, Kookie?’

Its only as he turns his chair slightly so that he could see his friend, that he takes note of the deep in thought look on his face, slyly sitting to attention as he does so and watching Jungkook inquisitively.

‘I…Hyung, I’m going to ask you a question, and I really hope you don’t get mad at me cause I’m just concerned.’

Well, that wasn’t what he’d been expecting.

‘O-ka…y…’ Namjoon responds, narrowing his eyes at the other guy as he watches him enter the room fully and shut the door behind him, appearing to try to compose himself before speaking.

‘Who are the flowers for?’

Oh.

Namjoon watches his friend for a moment, eyes boring into eyes as his brain works over time to search for an out to the question.

‘What flowers?’

Wow, genius, Namjoon- evade a question with another question; brilliant ide-

‘The flowers you bought at the florist earlier and hid behind the recycle bins.’

…well fuck.

He pauses for a moment, eyebrows slowly pulling in as his thoughts turn from what to say to escape this line of questioning, to why Jungkook knew all this information.

‘Jungkook…have you been following me?’

It was that question that tipped Namjoon off, or more specifically his friends reaction to it; the slightly widened eyes, the immediate glances around the room, the fiddling of his fingers as he begins to stutter.

‘ah, no. I was just-…I was just concerned, cause- well because you haven’t been yourself lately…and-‘

‘What do you mean, ‘I haven’t been myself’?’ Namjoon presses, feeling his jaw tense as anger and confusion rolls into his belly, his logical side dismissing it immediately as his friend just being concerned about him, but a small part of him continues to fight against this line of inquiry…the jealous part of him.

‘You’ve just been more distracted than usual…but more excitable too, almost hyper in practise, and yesterday and today you were just so eager to finish practise-‘

‘Is it a crime to be excited for practise to be over? You know its not my favourite thing, Jungkook-‘

‘Yeah, but Namjoon-hyung, that still doesn’t explain the flowers-‘

At that point, Namjoon had had enough; in his mind, he knew he couldn’t and wouldn’t argue with his friend, and the clock behind the younger guy’s shoulder was only counting down the minutes faster till the time he’d said he’d meet y/n, and so pushing himself to his feet he gave in with a sigh.

‘You’re that concerned? Why don’t you come and meet who they’re for. But, please…please Jungkook-ah…I need you to promise me something-‘

God, he was going to hell for this.

‘- you can’t tell the others.’

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

If you were being honest with yourself, not a single word on any page that you’d read for the past three hours had entered your mind, let alone settled into your memory. It had gotten to the point that you’d put earbuds in to try and block out any external distractions, but that had in turn just left you with your thoughts, and your imagination; …his hands holding your own, stroking up your arm, fingers curling around your waist, breath hot on your neck.

You cant help the loud gasp that escapes you when you suddenly feel the weight of a palm on your forearm, snapping your eyes open and twisting your head almost to the point of whiplash, before your mind registers the face in front of you that your mind had done no justice to in its feeble imaginings. It’s a moment of watching his lips move and hearing a dull mumble as you stare at him happily, before you realize you still had your ear buds in, and instinctively you hold your fingertips up to his mouth to stop him as you quickly tear the little rubber pods from your ears and proceed to grin at him as you place them on the table next to you before lowering your hand to allow him to proceed.

But in the manner that you’d already realized was only ever going to be his, he refused to let your hand leave his lips before he pressed a soft kiss to your fingertips, a shy smile creeping out from behind your palm on his lips as he brings your hand down to hold it in his lap.

‘Hello, beautiful.’

Those two words alone were enough to send a shiver racing down your spine, stomach contracting in want as you drink in the sight and feel of him, ears practically ringing happily with the welcome tones of his voice that were the first thing they were really hearing in hours.

‘Hey.’

The squeaky, almost whispered greeting was all you could manage with the way you felt so dizzy in his presence, not paying any attention to the goofy grin that was taking over your face as your mind completely forgets about your school work in exchange for honing all senses on the angel before you.

‘My goodness, I forgot how heavenly you were. …I’m sorry for scaring you, I just had to say hello before I let you get on with your work. Actually, first-‘

The way his lips pressed so surely against your own, his scent filling your lungs and dispersing itself around your body, drags you into him without the help of his hands that automatically reach out to pull you that tiny bit closer. Your hands were already reaching up to pull lightly on the collar of his shirt by the time his palms come to rest on your hips and without a thought you find yourself sinking your teeth gently into his bottom lip, pulling a light moan from him that has you both freezing in your motions as it echoes down toward the end of the library.

‘Oops.’ He mutters against your lips, and you quickly detach your mouth to smother your giggle in his chest, the noise traversing into a hum as his arms slip around you to crush you close against him, clouding you in his warmth as his lips settle a kiss to the top of your head.

‘So what are we studying tonight?’ he murmurs, the feel of his head turning to the side so that he could peer at your textbooks pulling a pout onto your face as you sense the end of the cuddle, regretfully pulling back as you read the title to him.

‘The fragmentation of identity in modern Japan.’

‘huh…nothing too deep then?’ he comments sarcastically, winking at you when you side eye him, and you can feel your cheeks immediately heating in response.

‘Its for my literature class; we’re currently studying Murakami.’ You explain, shuffling some of the papers that you’d been writing on around your desk as you try to force your brain back into the paper you’d been writing, remembering some jumbled theory of an Oedipus complex revival that lay in the hidden depths of the writer’s words.

‘Ahh…I vaguely remember reading ‘Norwegian Wood’; a meaningful writer, but not as philosophical as some of the stories I enjoy getting lost in.’ he murmurs, the comment contradicting his motions as he begins to pull your copy of ‘Burning’ towards himself and you watch his expression sink into interest whilst his eyes glide over the page. Until that moment he’d always exuded a feeling of cool, calm, collected business man come fashionista, but you couldn’t help appreciating the scholarly air that rolled off of him as you inspected his side profile whilst he read the book; taking in the defined curve of his jaw as he clenched his teeth in concentration, the way his eyebrows drew in as he processed the movements of the characters, these little details being washed from your focus as his thumb begins to rub gently over the backs of your fingers where his hand had come to sit around yours.

‘Your hands are cold.’ he mutters off-handedly, reaching his free hand up to turn the page before absentmindedly finding your other hand and enveloping them both in his grasp, rubbing his thumbs gently in circles to create warmth, the move being so caring that you feel your chest swell happily with emotion.

You leave him for a few minutes, simply allowing him to get sucked into Murukami’s deceptively indulgent words and watching him wistfully as your mind rolls out the billions of future possibilities your life could take on if it allowed you to stay with him.

‘I’m sorry, I know I’m not meant to be distracting you, I just couldn’t help myself.’ He says guiltily when the end of the chapter suddenly blocks off his progression into the rest of the story, his sudden awareness of himself amusing you so much that you lean over to press a kiss to his shoulder before removing one of your hands from his and reaching up to save the page, closing the book promptly afterwards and drawing his attention back to you as you smile up at him.

‘Whats that face for?’ you ask him, frowning when you see the curves of his face contorting into concern and worry, and what appears to be a hint of sheepishness.

‘Well firstly, I have a surprise for you.’ He starts without hesitation, his concern turning to a cheesy grin – with a tiny hint of embarrassment- before he motions for you to stay put, climbing up from his chair swiftly and bolting off towards the stairway, leaving you looking after him puzzled. He’s barely gone for a minute before he’s re-emerging, this time with a poorly concealed array of flowers held at his back.

‘You’re aware I can see those flowers behind your back right?’ you call quietly to him, not bothering to keep your voice quite as quiet as you should after realizing that you were one of the very few people in the library that evening – save the nerdy-looking guy that always sat in the corner-nook at the other end of the bookcases, using the computers as a means to up his score in starcraft.

‘Well pretend you cant until I show you.’ He complains sweetly, the frustrated whined tone in which he reprimands you causing you to conceal your laugh behind your hand, before resuming an oblivious expression to appease him, inwardly smiling as you watch him amble toward you whilst trying to compose himself, coming to a stop at the side of your chair as his face transforms into one of distracted happiness.

‘Y/N, I’ve wanted to do this for such a long time in my life; to find someone that I can do this for, and it makes me the happiest person in the world that I’ve finally been given the chance not just to do it, but to do it for someone I already know is…and will be for a long time… irrevocably important to me. So…’

His speech alone was enough to bring a tear to your eye, but the way he crouches down to your level as he brings the bouquet into your line of sight, presenting them to you by reaching for your hand to help you gain a good hold on them and keeping his grip warmly on you, has you biting your lip to choke back the tears, looking back at him after allowing your eyes to roam the lilies and roses, and chrysanthemums, and feeling a tear roll down your cheek as you laugh at your own emotional state, pulling the flowers out of the way slightly so that you could crash your lips to his.

The robotic voice in your mind that was overly conscious of your basic instincts couldn’t help compare the moment to that morning; when your father had driven away from the house and left you crying on the door step, expression completely free of concern over the fact that he’d left you locked out with no easy way of getting to school on time other than by running as fast as possible.

The tender caress of Namjoon’s hand on your jaw as his lips moulded themselves to fit yours so exactly, like your mouths were made to kiss over and over for centuries to come, had more tears streaming from your eyes as you clutched at his neck, not wanting him to ever leave his place in that moment; not wanting time to move forwards or backwards, but to stay put in that moment forever.

‘So, you like them?’

Your need for him in that moment had you wanting to smother his words with your mouth, your fingers crawling into his hair never wanting to leave, but the voice of reason in your mind, had you pulling back the most miniscule amount so that you could greet his eyes with your own, offering him a sad, yet simultaneously ecstatic smile as you nod your head gratefully at him.

‘They’re beautiful.’ You whisper, inspecting them once more, so consumed in the gentle, yet bright colours before your eyes, that you start a little when you feel his thumb come to swipe across your cheeks, wiping away the tears you’d shed.

He doesn’t say anything when your eyes lock onto his timidly, his expression seeming thoughtful, but no questions being raised as he leans forward once more to touch one last gentle kiss to your lips, before standing up and leaving the flowers in your grasp.

Its at that point that he seems to brace himself, and you feel tension fill you in reaction, waiting for whatever he was about to bring to the table.

‘I’m glad you think so. …Okay-‘

‘Namjoon, what?-‘ you go to ask, becoming uneasy with his stalling, before getting distracted by a new figure entering the library, and you narrow your eyes slightly as a white flag raises in your mind, your distant memory recognizing him in some way.

‘I wanted to tell you before I came, but I thought it was best to give you the flowers first as that was my original plan.’ He begins to explain, appearing a little frustrated by the unfolding events, and you frown in concern as you watch the figure come to a slow stop beside him, looking almost awkwardly between the two of you, despite his gaze lingering on you a little longer, and more curiously with each glance.

You remain silent as your brain processes his words and the appearance of this new guy, eyes grazing over him inquisitively as a multitude of resolutions begin listing themselves out to you in your head, but none of them filling the slot of explanation that your mind had set up ready as to why the guy was there.

‘Y/n, this is Jungkook.’ Namjoon begins, addressing you, but keeping his gaze locked on you as he switches stances, slipping into the seat beside you once more and reaching for your hand as a content, almost happily bemused smile creeps onto his face, and he addresses the other guy.

‘Jungkook, this is her…

...this is y/n.’

(T.B.C)

[gayoongles]

50 questions tag

I was tagged by @mikrokosyoongs thank u bb🥺💘 1. What takes up too much of your time? currently studying + final projects😪 but usually my time is spent trying to keep up w all my kpop boys (mostly bts) hfudsihf 

2. What makes your day better? listening to music, playing my cello, talking to my friends, n rugby 3. What’s the best thing to happen to you today? BLACK HAIRED TAE IS BACK (im still not over it bye) AND I GOT BTS TIX

4. What fictional place would you like to go to? uhhhh idk? maybe the hp universe but ngl I havent watched/read much lately that takes place in a historical setting besides got and I know for sure I dont wanna b there hfdjhf 

5. Are you good at giving advice? I like to think I am but idk 

6. Do you have any mental illness? sadly yeah😣

7. Have you ever experienced sleep paralysis? no, thank fuck. id fr die 8. What musician inspired you the most? yoongi, min yoongi, suga, syub, the love of my life, and kim namjoon

9. Have you ever fallen in love? wish I cld say no hahah but

10. What’s your dream date? idk I dont rly have one hfudshf I like amusement parks a lot but also cuddling sounds like an AMAZING date idea

11. What do others notice about you? ppl always comment on my hair (bc I always have it dyed) and my height first so I guess those fhiusdfhi, personality wise tho, that im v quiet

12. What is an annoying habit you have? biting my nails. I try so hard every day to not but it ends up happening anyway

13. Do you still talk to your first love? no, thankfully

14. How many exes do you have? 5 and all of them ended up sucking yeet😛

15. How many songs are in your playlist? idk bc I have like 7483758 playlists 

16. What instruments can you play? cello! and a bit of ukulele but I havent picked it up in a while so im probably rusty

17. What do you have the most pictures of? bts, but out of all of them probably jm or yoongi

18. Where would you like to go before you die? everywhere, but mostly Europe Australia and Asia 

19. What is your zodiac? ima go deep bc why not so: leo sun cap moon aries rising. feel free to roast me in my asks abt that idk

20. Do you relate to it? my zodiac? lmao my sun no but my moon for sure

21. What is happiness to you? music. 

22. Are you going through anything right now? umm stress bc finals r in like a week but other than that no not particularly. I did just get out of a rly bad like month, almost 2 month long depressive episode tho so its been rough bouncing back from that bc I got behind on a LOT of work bc of it

23. What’s the worst decision you ever made? not a specific decision but I trusted too easily in the past and it always hurt me

24. What’s your favorite store? I dont rly shop that much in specific stores ngl, maybe line friends tho? it was a rly cute store when I visited last month :(

25. What’s your opinion on abortion? your body, your decision. no one elses

26. Do you keep a bucket list? nah, theres things I wanna do but idc enough to write them down or keep track or anything

27. Do you have a favorite album? persona, lys tear, and dark and wild r so so superior dont @ me I won't change my mind

28. What do you want for your birthday? hfidshfi not 2 b that bitch but I always only ask for money

29. What are most people’s first impression of you? that I’m really quiet and reserved. also that im fucking short

30. What age do you seem according to most people? I got mistaken as 12 once when I was 18 but recently idk, maybe 17? probably not much younger now since I go to college

31. Where do you keep your phone while you’re sleeping? next to me on my bed bc I always end up falling asleep while on it

32. What word do you say the most? yoongi or some curse word probably

33. What’s the oldest age you would date? 22 or 23? idk I havent rly thought of it much. except id date hyung line for sure if they fucking asked, screw age preferences in that case.

34. What’s the youngest age you would date? 18 since im only 19 lmao

35. What job/career do most people say would suit you? anything music related 

36. What’s your favorite music genre? any varying kind of rock except most metal (alt, indie, classic, etc.), pop (and that included kpop), and hip hop

37. If you could live in any country in the world, where would it be? um? tbh I like New York but uhh any country that it’s legal to be lgbtq+ in since my trans gay ass wldnt thrive anywhere that it’s illegal obvi

38. What is your current favorite song? dionysus and home and also bonfire by childish gambino

39. How long have you had this blog for? I dont know tbfh, maybe a year and a half? two years? bc it was a marvel blog before it was a bts blog so..

40. What are you excited for? METLIFE DAY 2 LETS GOOOO

41. Are you a better talker or listener? listener. talking takes a lot out of me mentally if im sober unless im w someone im rly comfy w

42. What is the last productive thing you did? uhh this weekend I finished 3 whole assignments dsifhi that's abt it

43. What do you want for christmas? idk? money? to get to spend time w my dad n step sisters? christmas is so far away man idk yet

44. What class do you get the best grades in? music related courses and english/writing

45. On a scale of 1-10, how are you feeling right now? 6, wld be more if I wasnt stressed out of my mine but ukno

46. What can you see yourself doing in ten years? mmm my hope is that ill b a relatively successful music producer/engineer by then but we’ll see how that goes lmaoo

47. When did you get your first heartbreak? threeee years ago I think? its been a hot second

48. What age do you want to get married? bro im only 19 I dont wanna think abt marriage

49. What career did you want to have as a child? a vet! and then I realized u had to put pets down sometimes so I said fuck that

50. What do you crave right now? physical affection lmaoo

m not gonna tag anyone bc I kinda took an break from work that I shouldn't have to do this so fhidsh anyone can do this if u want idk