#im having a fever and hallucinations

[livrere-green]

I just pictured this random scene of charles telling edwin in the most casual of ways that he could show him how kissing is like just for edwin to respond in the most deadpan serious voice that he already knows how it is like.

it's funnier if you imagine crystal and jenny in the background almost losing their minds.

[fallenwhumpee]

Worth it.

• Masterlist •

Warnings: Blood, magic whump, hypothermia, stranger caretaker, hallucination(?)

Leader always believed that their worth was defined by the people willing to help them when they were in their lowest. They always believed having people back them up was the real tresure.

Judging themselves by their own thoughts, Leader was worthless.

Trembling in the water, Leader tried to stay still. They were floating on their back, their blood oozing around and their thoughts as blurry as their vision. They had no strength to get themselves to the shore. Hell, they had no idea where the shore was.

Leader should have been panicking by now. But there was no point in trashing. Waste of their precious time and strength. They were probably not going to make it, and they could only hope the blood loss would rock them to sleep before hypothermia could.

When they eliminated panic, only an odd feeling left. The magic showed them another death. A lot more merciful one. A good ending, at least, even if getting there was torture.

Leader didn't think magic could be mistaken, or the future could be changed. They didn't think they would be dropped off in the middle of water just because of fear, after being ambushed by their own. If they had only listened Leader... that future could happen.

But maybe it wasn't the magic that showed Leader those. Maybe it was just what they wanted to see, and the truth just came to spit on their face. There was no way that they could explain how they didn't break any rules yet cast such powerful spell after fighting all day.

Leader felt their will crumbe as if it was frozen with the cold and someone was hammering it. Not for the first time, they felt the line between dark magic and the forbidden magic blur into each other. Sure, Leader was willing to sacrifice their emotions or give up some of their strength, but they weren't desperate enough to sacrifice something else.

Why not just give in? They could save themselves.

Leader trembled again, pushing the poisonous thought away. They didn't want to become a mindless puppet, and they were stronger than the temptation.

But did it really matter? When they were slowly fading away?

Leader breathed, their lungs screaking for some air. Those were dangerous thoughts, and they didn't belong to Leader.

A cough shook their body. They had to turn to expell some of the water from their lungs. Their head was barely above the water as they coughed their lungs out, their control over their body slipping.

Leader forced themselves to turn on their back again, not able to keep themselves afloat. They ignored how much water they swallowed in the progress and how it made their stomsch turn. They were too drained to care about it.

Leader’s vision blurred, the sky above merging with the depths below. The cold seeped deeper into their bones, numbing their limbs until they could barely tell where the water ended and their body began. They tried to take another breath, but their chest tightened, and a sharp pain shot through their ribs. The taste of salt and iron filled their mouth, darkness taking over their other senses momentarily.

A wave rolled over them, pulling them underwater for a brief, terrifying moment. When they resurfaced, Leader’s body barely responded to their will. Their wet clothes were sticking on them, the howling wind freezing their skin through the thick and wet layers.

They were so, so tired.

Deprived of their magic and strength, they didn't want anything else than closing their eyes. They doubted they would wake up, but at least they weren't in pain. Breathing slowly, they let their thoughts focused on only one thing.

Cold.

All they could feel eas cold. Reasonably, Leader thought. But it didn’t feel right. They had passed the point they were supposed to feel cold. They tried to move, but they didn't feel the swaying feeling of the waves. They were... still. Their back ached on the solid ground, their heavy body slumped on the floor.

Barely able to crack their eyes, Leader met with darkness. Soon, it became a thick, suffocating sight, as if it was wrapped against their throat and pressing their chest. Were they sinking? Was all of this just a last cry of help from their body to wake up their mind?

"You suffered too much," a voice whispered, gentle and soft. Leader struggled as they tried to remember if they had ever heard that voice before, but their mind failed to progress.

Slowly, it got easier to think. They could feel warmth embracing them, giving them a break from the constant shivering.

"You know you don't have to," the warmth burned their cheeks, the voice feeling closer to their ear. "You have the strength to make it stop."

Leader wanted to argue, but their body wouldn’t move, their voice trapped in their throat. The heat held them captive, and all they could do was listen as they felt their skin burn.

"You tried so hard," the voice murmured. "To be strong, to lead, to protect. Only to die alone, bleeding and broken. The people you cared never cared about you. But I won't let this injustice go on any longer."

Leader clenched their fists, nails digging into their palms as they struggled against the crushing weight on their chest. "No," they managed to whisper, the word barely audible. There was nothing to do within their strength to save themselves.

Leader’s heart pounded in their chest as they tried to move again. "No," they muttered again. They tried to open their eyes. Their body seized with pain as they found themselves on a softer ground, the world spinning around them. They were still cold and hot at the same time, still weak, but they were alive. Every part of them hurt, from the deep wound at their side to the biting cold that clung to their skin. The remnants of the dream (hallucination? nightmare? they weren't sure) clung to them, and for a moment, they almost wished they had given in—at least then, they wouldn’t be in this agony.

It took several long moments before Leader realized they weren’t alone. Someone must have pulled them from the water and wrapped them in a blanket. Not that they weren't grateful, but it did very little to chase away the cold.

Blinking through their blurry vision, Leader noticed a figure kneeling beside them.

Leader’s heart pounded in their chest. They flinched away from the person, their body too weak to do much more than that.

The figure said something softly, holding up their hands to show they meant no harm. Leader didn't understand one word from the stranger, and even though the gesture was clear, Leader wasn't buying it.

Leader tried to push themselves up to get away or at least seem intimidating, but their limbs were uncooperative, trembling violently with the effort. They barely managed to prop themselves up on one elbow before collapsing back, their breath coming in ragged gasps as a coughing fit took over.

The figure panicked, helping Leader back down with more words Leader couldn’t understand.

Leader’s vision swam as they stared up at the stranger, every instinct telling them not to trust, not to let their guard down. But they were too weak to fight, too drained to argue or make a point. They gritted their teed with frustration as they realized just how helpless they were.

The stranger mumbled, their voice soothing, almost hypnotic in its calmness. A magic circle with light colors glowed over them, but Leader couldn't summon the strength to break through it.

Leader’s eyes fluttered closed despite their efforts to stay awake, exhaustion - or the spell, they couldn’t tell - winning over. The last thing they felt before sleep claimed them was the gentle touch of the stranger’s hand on their forehead, cool and reassuring over their warm skin, even if it failed to ease the alarms taking over their fading consciousness.

Leader drifted in and out for a frustratingly long time, their mind a haze of pain and fevered dreams. The warmth that surrounded them was a far cry from the icy grip of the lake, but it was no less disorienting. Every breath was a struggle, their chest tight and burning, each inhale rattling painfully in their lungs.

But alongside that pain was something else—something softer, warmer. A hand, perhaps, carefully dabbing at their forehead with a damp cloth, or the feeling of a thick, scratchy blanket tucked securely around them.

When they finally managed to crack their eyes open, Leader found themselves in a small, dimly lit room. A fire crackled softly somewhere nearby, filling the air with warmth and the faint smell of burning wood. For a moment, Leader wondered if their mind finally pitied them and gave a calm dream, but the pain in their chest and the wet, rasping cough wasn't something they could make up.

The stranger was sitting on a stool beside the bed, busy with something Leader couldn’t see. When they noticed Leader’s eyes on them, they turned, offering a small, reassuring smile.

Leader tried to sit up, but their body refused to cooperate, a wave of dizziness forcing them to stay down. The stranger made a soft sound—something between a shushing noise and a hum—before gently pressing Leader back against the pillow.

The stranger patted the bed with a frown, pressing their hand to Leader's forehead.

Leader whined, frustration bubbling up inside them. They needed to know where they were, who this person was, and most importantly, why they had saved them. But when they tried to speak, their throat burned, and all that came out was a hoarse, unintelligible croak. They couldn't even raise their hand to push the stranger away.

The stranger sat next to them. They gestured to themselves, placing a hand on their chest. “Caretaker,” they said slowly, enunciating the word as if trying to make it easier for Leader to grasp.

“Caretaker…” Leader murmured, the name foreign on their tongue. They tried to repeat the gesture, but their hand barely lifted from the bed before falling back, too weak to complete the motion. Caretaker smiled again, this time with a hint of sadness, and placed their hand over Leader’s, giving it a gentle squeeze.

For a while, there was silence. Leader’s eyes drifted shut again, but they fought to keep them open, determined not to slip back into the void. Caretaker seemed to notice and began speaking softly, their voice low and melodic, though Leader couldn’t make out the words. It didn’t matter; the sound was comforting, a lifeline in Leader’s confusion and pain.

Leader tried to get a hold of themselves, and they did, even though they noticed Caretaker was gone by the time they regained awareness. Leader felt the loneliness crush them again, the emotions they supressed for the sake of staying calm surfacing. But they couldn't have that. They weren't ready to deal with any of those. So, they did the only thing they knew with those. Used them to cast a spell.

They knew how pathetic it sounded, but they were desperate to save their team, and it left them absolutely drained. Now they were feeling even worse. They had to relieve some of the pain to keep their sanity.

Leader weakly moved their hand to their chest, curling their fingers. They murmured the spell and let the dark circles surround their body like a blanket, their pain fading to the depts of their mind temporarily just like their feelings.

Leader flinched when they heard a gasp, the spell breaking with their concentration. Usually, such things wouldn't affect them, but they were too weak to keep the spell under check without focusing on it.

Leader turned their head to where the sound came, only to see Caretaker frozen in their place. Then suddenly, Caretaker began checking their plants with panic.

"Hey," Leader rasped. They tried again when Caretaker ignored them, but a coughing fit took over. Caretaker hesitantly came over, unsure if they want to help.

Leader pointed the plant in the corner, and weakly made a gesture like pulling it before shaking their head, hoping it meant no for Caretaker too. Then they pointed themselves and made a pulling motion towards up, magical energy forming for a moment before disappearing as Leader felt their strength fail.

Caretaker checked that plant. Leader knew what the other person thought, but they also believed they proved it wrong. Leader wasn't pulling life force from other things, which was the core of forbidden spells. There was nothing to be afraid of as long as Leader had their self-control.

Caretaker came back after making sure the plant was untouched. They took a paper and a pen, scribbling something. Leader recognised the basic healing spell, of course. The source came from the caster's magical energy, which Leader lacked. It was the reason of their lean towards dark magic— they used their emotions to make up their shortcomings.

Caretaker put the pen to Leader's hand. Leader wrote their own slowly, their hand trembling. Only a few symbols were different, but it must have satisfied Caretaker because Leader could see the relief in the other's eyes.

Leader closed their eyes as Caretaker looked at the spell more carefully. They were lucky that the magic came from the same runes. It proved Leader innocent.

With an excited smile, Caretaker tore the paper from Leader's hand— it didn't require much strength. They scribbled some spells and circled some symbols.

Safe, sleep, heal.

Caretaker looked at them proudly. Leader would laugh at the solution to their lack of communication if they had the energy. But they also knew if they laughed, they would start crying.

Did Leader deserve this? From a stranger? Perhaps not. But fate - and the stranger - decided they were worth it.

[silkgreentie]

????????????

+

[taniushka12]

fellas i was right yesterady today i woke up w/ a High fever and ive been dead in bed for most of the day :/

[jorrated]

Call me Harry du bois and put on some disco cause baby, life ain't being kind to me

[wilsons-striped-ties]

VELVET LIPS AND THE EYES TO PULL ME IN

WE BOTH KNOW YOU'D ALREADY WIN

MMMM YOUR ORIGINAL SINNNNNNNN

[isopodretina]

why does triangle man have beef with everyone omfg

like STOP FIGHTING 😨

hes really fighting particles and depressed people wtf

like buddy i might have to get into the ring and stop this myself

takin this shit into my own hands bro

[n4b3]

dowloded phyton and im watching tutorials and thinking that georgenotfound the minecrafter it boy who managed to give dream a sexuality crisis adn steal his heart has a degree in computer science.... hes so hot i understand you dream

[dangerousskeletoncoptree]

ever felt your brain melt folks

[serendipitous-girl]

𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

⊱✿⊰ summary: a class 1b girl admires Bakugo, what happens when she finally does something to grab his attention?

⊱✿⊰ warnings: swearing? fighting: mentions of injuries, blood, bullying this is platonic i imagine

⊱✿⊰ notes: this is pretty different from the request but uhh yipee yay im so cool Idrk what to say, I might edit this once I actually write the thing.

His bone crunched beneath your fist, a sickening blow to the center of his nose. You weren't to blame for the fight, it was fully the boy you were beating up who was at fault.

"Ugh, you...bitch!" He growled, wiping blood that was leaking from his nose. You narrowed your eyes dangerously, powers flickering to life. You shouldn't have let his stupid comments get to you, it doesn't matter that Bakugo hasn't noticed you. But the way he acted like he was somehow superior to you just because he was in 2a made you feel infuriated.

You were honestly very fired up at this point, you wanted to smash this dude's face into the ground. For now, you grabbed his collar and gave him a right hook. He was honestly pretty lame, he didn't even block the punch.

"What is going on in here?" A voice boomed, making your back straighten and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The boy had a similar reaction, while also taking this chance to worm his way out of your iron grip.

Rigidly you turned around, plastering a big smile on as you looked at All Might. He was frowning at you, eyebrows furrowed with frustration.

"Fighting other future heroes is not good behavior." He scolded, voice echoing throughout the courtyard. You felt all stares on you, prickling your skin like they were actually touching you. "You two are going to Nezu's office."

Sighing, you followed All Might while sparing a glance to the student who has formed a crowd around you. Your eyes met red, a scowl on the blond boy's face as he stared directly at you.

Bakugo noticed you. Bakugo noticed you.

•───────────•°•❀•°•──────────•

"Oi! You, what's your name?" Bakugo called, walking rapidly towards you. (In all honestly you couldn't help but feel your heart rush with excitement.)

"I'm [Last Name] why're you asking?" You replied, trying to keep your cool. Emphasis on the trying, after all it isn't everyday your UA role model notices you. He was hovering by you, arms crossed over his chest and his constant constipated expression on his face.

"I saw your fight and I'm glad that dickhead finally got what's been coming his way." Bakugo said with a shrug, "I wanted to know who actually deserves a place in this school."

"So, I'm...not an extra to you? Even though I'm in 1b?" You asked, eyebrow raised slightly. It was strange, bantering with someone you have imagined as a role model. This felt like a fever dream.

"Eh, you're less of an extra. I'll keep an eye on you, [Last Name.] I hope you meet my expectations." Bakugo said, before marching away once again. Holy...fucking..shit.

You watched him walk away, eyes wide and jaw slightly dropped. Surely this was fiction, surely a hallucination caused by head trauma. You pinched your arm to check, and sure enough this was real.

You hoped to meet his expectations too.

lori © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything weird with my writing! i like reblogs and comments but please be kind as this was my writing.

[fairyhaos]

❖ take care of me anyway // yoon jeonghan

jeonghan x gn!reader, 1.7k+ words

tags: office worker!jeonghan not rlly relevant to the plot tho, sick fic, fluff, established relationship

warnings: brief fever-induced hallucinations ig?? but theyre rlly cute, pet names, reader has a cold

notes: im sick. like, 'i have a cold' sick. and i also have another sick fic planned so uhh yeah im a little Unwell in the head too

There are ten minutes left of Jeonghan’s lunch break when you finally call him.

“Hello, my darling,” he says, his tone both parts dry and amused. “How are you?”

“Sick,” you reply, and even just that word sounds horribly bunged up. “But you knew that already, didn’t you? You called in sick for me.”

Jeonghan just hums, smiling a little as he adjusts the phone against his ear, walking down the street back to his company building. “Maybe I did.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, and he can almost hear you pouting on the other end of the line. There’s a rustling sound as you adjust yourself in bed, and he sighs.

“How sick are you?”

“Very,” you say, miserably, and then give a series of harsh, wet coughs that has him wincing. “Very sick. I only just woke up, but my head is just…” You don’t finish your sentence. Just make a very pained sound like a wounded puppy.

Jeonghan chuckles. “Gee, I wonder how you managed to get so sick. It’s not like walking home in the pouring rain without a coat makes you ill, isn’t it?”

You whine at that, upset. “Han, I told you, I was gonna call you but my phone was dead. I had no choice! Wanted to get home fast to see you,” you add in a mumble, sounding dejected.

He smiles at that. “It wasn’t like I was going anywhere, though,” he points out. “I was all comfortably squished on the couch. I wasn’t gonna disappear any time soon. You could’ve taken your time. Waited for the rain to pass.”

“Yeah, but still,” you huff petulantly, then sniff. “Can you make soup when you get back home?” you ask after a beat, and sniffle again. “And also buy some tissues? And meds? And give me cuddles?”

Jeonghan chuckles at how pitiful you sound, resisting the urge to coo. “No.”

“What?” You’re whining again, and you sound all bunged up but Jeonghan just smiles, amused. “But your darling Y/N is currently suffering the worst cold in the entire world.”

“But alas, I think my darling Y/N is the sole person to blame for this cold,” Jeonghan says, lips twitching upwards. “Don't you think so?”

“Come take care of me anyway.”

“No.”

You make a noise of discontent, sheets rustling as you shift around in bed again. “Hmph. Worst boyfriend ever. I’m breaking up with you.”

That makes him laugh, the stunned sound being pulled out of him by your deadpan tone, and he grins to himself out on the street, rounding the corner until his company building is in sight. “Whatever you say,” he singsongs. “I’ll see later, okay?”

“Whatever. Bye.” A pause. “Have a nice day.”

Jeonghan smiles as you hang up, looking fondly down at your contact name. He’s standing in front of the company entrance, now, and he has three minutes of his break left. Just enough time to get into the elevator and up to his office.

He pockets his phone, turns on his heel and traipses off to find the nearest pharmacy.

───────────── 🧂

You’ve been drifting in and out of sleep the entire day, constantly stuck in that drowsy, so-sick-that-nothing-feels-real state, and you’ve hallucinated Jeonghan coming home a total of thirteen times in the past five hours.

At least, you think it’s been five hours.

Maybe it’s been less than that.

Whatever. Time is weird.

The point is, your mind is all fuzzy and everything feels like it’s floating, so when someone who looks an awful lot like Jeonghan comes into the room, you just groan. Hallucination Jeonghan #14 has come to pay you a visit, it seems, so you just frown and give him the response that you’ve given all his other clones.

“Go away. Stop trying to sell me fish.”

Hallucination Jeonghan #14 makes a confused noise at that, walking closer to your bed, leaning over to adjust your pillows and pull you up into a more upright position.

“I don’t want your fish,” you say, just in case he didn’t hear you the first time. “Stop it.”

That makes the hallucination chuckle, and his hand comes up to your forehead. 

Cold. Huh. None of the other hallucinations touched you before.

His hand drops from your forehead, swiping at the soft skin under your eyes gently, and his fingers are blessedly cool against your skin. You hadn’t realised how much you were burning up before.

“You’re really, really sick,” Hallucination Jeonghan #14 murmurs, and he sounds so concerned, before pulling out a bottle of water from one of the plastic bags he’s holding. Woah, you hadn’t even realised he was holding them. “Here, darling. Drink.”

You obediently take a sip once he uncaps the lid for you, before making small noises of distress when some of it spills down your shirt. Hallucination Jeonghan #14 (wow was it a mouthful to say, even in your head) just hushes you gently, dabbing at it with tissues that he’d procured from the plastic bags. 

“It’s okay,” he says softly, and his hands take yours, clasping them around the bottle. Once you’re holding it, he gets up, and for a horrible moment, you think this hallucination is going to leave again. You kind of like this one.

“Where’re you going?” you ask, but it comes out as more of a slur of vowels. You’re not sure he understood a word.

 “Drink up,” is all he says. He fishes out a packet of pills from the bag (it’s like a magic bag, you think blearily. It seems to have everything inside it). “Have these as well, okay? I’ll go make that soup you wanted.”

You nod, blinking. Dutifully, you sip the water that the hallucination has left you, because really this was one of the most gentle, doting, Jeonghan-like Hallucination Jeonghan and it kind of feels like he really does have your best interests at heart. 

Unlike the other Hallucination Jeonghans, who just wanted to sell you fish. This one really seemed to care about your well-being. 

You blink again, slowly. 

Oh. 

By the time Jeonghan comes back with a gently steaming bowl of chicken soup on a tray with a mug of tea, you're more lucid than before, pouting at him as he comes closer, having remembered his last words before you’d hung up the phone.

“You said you weren’t going to take care of me.”

Jeonghan doesn’t say anything, setting the tray on the bedside table, before sitting down on the edge of your bed, wordlessly picking up the bowl and spoonfeeding you some soup. You open your mouth easily, and he hums in approval with a smile.

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let my darling be sick all alone, hm?” he says. “I can’t do that. Especially if you’re also seeing hallucinations of me who are trying to sell you fish.”

He continues feeding you soup in tiny sips, and the entire situation feels weirdly vulnerable, with you propped up on pillows and Jeonghan making small noises of approval every time you successfully swallow a spoonful. Like you’re a little baby bird, or something.

But he smiles so lovingly at you the entire time, so it’s kind of hard to feel too embarrassed.

“Well done,” Jeonghan murmurs, once you’ve finished half of the bowl. Your boyfriend is affectionate, almost overbearingly so at times, always poking you in the side or pinching your cheeks or tweaking your nose, but the softness with which he treats you right now is a whole other level of affection entirely.

Jeonghan cares deeply for you. You know that. You’ve never doubted how much he loves you, and he never gives you reason to doubt it. But still, when he smooths down your hair and strokes the back of your hand and gazes at you so gently, it makes you realise yet again that oh God, he loves you.

“We’re going to get you to finish the rest of the soup in a minute,” he says, reaching down towards the plastic bag at his feet, “but first. I wanted you to have this.”

Out of the bag, he pulls out…

A fluffy bunny plushie.

You blink, tilting your head, sniffing in confusion and also to try and unblock your bunged up nose. “What?”

“Say hi to Jjongie,” Jeonghan says. “He came up to me when I was buying your soup, and I couldn’t not bring him home.” The bunny’s pink ears flop adorably into its eyes as he holds out the soft toy to you. It even has a cream coloured ribbon around its neck. “He’s gonna keep you company whenever I can’t be here for you.”

“Oh,” you say softly, taking Jjongie from him with a smile. You rub your thumb over the soft fur of the bunny’s cheek. “He’s adorable.”

Jeonghan beams, proud. “Of course he is. He’s a me-substitute.”

You look up at him, smiling. “Han, I—” You can’t finish your sentence, too choked up. Literally. You suddenly start coughing, hand coming up to cover your mouth, and Jeonghan rushes forward with the mug of tea and an opened box of tissues that he suddenly procured out of nowhere.

“Hey, it’s okay, no need to cry over it,” he says teasingly as you glare at him, eyes tearing up from how hard you’re coughing. You accept the tissues and, when he pushes the tea insistently in you direction, you take the mug too.

“Yeah, yeah.” You blow your nose with one hand and then drink the tea, noting with a smile the subtle notes of honey in it. “Thank you,” you add, softly, looking down at Jjongie in your lap. Jeonghan really has gone out of his way for you.

Jeonghan just shakes his head, picking up the soup bowl again. “Thank me once you get better,” he says. “You can take care of me after. I’ll probably be catching your illness from looking after you.”

You grin, blowing your nose again, and even you can’t miss the way that Jeonghan watches you, eyes devastatingly fond.

“Yeah, but you’re gonna look after me anyways, aren’t you?”

Jeonghan grins, unashamedly bright. He taps the spoon against your lips, smiling wider when you sip the soup, the mug of tea in your hands, Jjongie the bunny in your lap. 

“Duh. I love you too much not to.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @thedensworld @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @evasaysstuff @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @butiluvu @sakufilms @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @amxlia-stars @raevyng @isabellah29

[nataliesscatorccio]

Dead cabin guy and his technicolor dreamcoat have haunted me since the wardrobe reveal in season two, and today im going to make it everyone's problem.

Travis wears the coat first. He and Natalie take the blessing and go out to look for Javi. Travis hallucinates (prophesies?) that Javi is dead and buried beneath the snow, but Natalie shows him it's only a fox. Travis finds the strange, mossy tree stump. The next day Travis has strong feelings about which direction is best to search for Javi in, and we don't see more of him until Nat reveals the bloody pants. Not that weird, all things considered. New season, new wardrobe additions. Hiking on a caloric deficit with PTSD, you'll probably hallucinate. Pretty standard stuff.

Then Nat wears the coat. She takes it to lay Jackie's bones to rest at the crash site, and while she wears it she sees (hallucinates? prophesies? I'm not sure!) the white moose that they'll later lose to the lake (ergo the hunt, ergo Javi dies for real but more on that later).

We get to Old Wounds, the hunting competition, and Lottie wears the coat now. You see where I'm going with this but just to be thorough: she enters the realm of death dreams, talks with Laura Lee, almost freezes to death.

Episode five. Melissa wears the coat. Maybe that's not important! Maybe it's just to show that they all share the wardrobe, and that the side characters are as equally All In This Together as the main characters are. Or it could mean something that a peripheral character, wearing important wardrobe, framed in antlers (not unlike Travis in 2.01), has the line "maybe he did die, and that's his ghost." It's a little suspicious, and at this point starts to feel like a pattern.

Who wears it next, who wore it best!? That's right baby, it's Paul! For his dreamworld drifter, hallucination hunk Coach Ben Scott. Nicholas Urfe himself. Ben spends almost all of his time in a dream, until *drumroll please* Paul, very pointedly, takes the coat and walks out the door. "Where do you think you are, Ben?" he puts the coat on. "You had to have known you couldn't stay here forever. [...] What matters now is that you aren't welcome here anymore." Following Paul means committing to death (to dream), and until interruption that's the choice Ben makes. Because letting Paul (and the coat) go would mean committing entirely to reality.

Of course, the pièce de résistance is something I didn't even notice until I went looking for it. The first dozen times I watched, I thought that after Lottie's beating Shauna brought her a blanket. "Lottie's cold." But she doesn't. She brings her the coat. Lottie is laying with it when, in a fever dream, she witnesses/hallucinates/prophesies parts of the hunt.

It's there again (on the back of the chair) when she sits by the fire and speaks for the wilderness, appointing Nat their queen. Ben watches, having woken from the dream himself, as they all bow to Natalie and leave reality behind for good.

Of course, there are a lot of times when characters hallucinate strange things in the cabin while not wearing the coat, because they're all starving to death and traumatized. Mari. Shauna. Akilah. But in addition to that, it seems like a pattern worth noting that in each instance where a character wears the technicolor coat, the line between the real and the imagined seems to blur with more ease. Does dead cabin guy's technicolor dreamcoat help the Yellowjackets connect to the dream realm?

I'll be brief here with the biblical parallel: blah blah Joseph is the favorite son (you were always its favorite), his father gives him a technicolor coat (they're nothing special, they don't change color in the cold or anything). blah blah Joseph starts having prophetic dreams etc etc his jealous brothers throw Joseph down a pit (the wilderness chose) and bring his bloodstained coat back as false proof of his death (hanging on a branch. a couple miles back). You get my drift.

Does it mean anything? Who knows. But in a series where wardrobe is such an integral part of the storytelling, it felt worth paying attention to.

[xtrafluffyteddy]

Remember

zombie! ghost x immune! reader

tw: gore, violence, death, heartache

inspired by remember you from adventure time

it had been exactly 574 days since the infection started, 365 days since the military fell, and 3 days since you and simon were bit in an attempt to find supplies and shelter, there was nothing you two couldve done no amout of strength or bullets was gonna take down that entire hoard. Your surprised that you and simon even got out with just a bite, you were sure that you were gonna be torn apart and eaten just like you watched your friends be.

"Cmon si just a little longer" you wheeze tired from dragging his deadweight body "were almost there im sure theyll have a cure" you repeated that yourself everytime you felt like giving up and just putting simon down, all you got in reply was a guttral groan from the undead man you had kept on a chain for his safety and yours

You huffed and sat down against a tree staring across the way at Simon who stared at you jaw hanging loosely from where he broke it to prevent himself from biting anyone, milky eyes unblinking "do you even remember me simon" you sigh staring into his cloudy eyes "do you remember the note you left? before you slipped away that night" you dug around you pack Simons eyes following your every movement as you quickly retrieve the note holding it with shaking hands

"Love is it just you and me in the wreckage of the world? That must be so confusing for a rookie like you" you read choking up a bit "And I know you're going to need me here with you, But I'm losing myself, and I'm afraid you're gonna lose me too" you stand up and shove the note into his chest hoping for anything, for some type of response to show you that your simon was still there that he wasnt just a walking husk of the man you love "This virus keeps me alive, but it's making me crazy, and I need to save you, but who's going to save me?" you couldnt help but slam your fist into his chest over and over only earning a snarl and groan in return "i wouldve saved you Simon, i wouldve ripped apart the world if it meant you were immune just like me".

you continued reading "Please forgive me for whatever I do. When I don't remember you" you sobbed soflty griping onto simons tactical vest trying to ground yourself in reality "f....forgive.." is all you heard thinking for sure you were hallucinating it couldnt be Simons voice "f....forgive' he repeated looking down at you.

You hiccuped shaking a bit but continued reading "Love, I can feel myself slipping away, I can't remember what it made me say" you remembered that day the day after simon got bit and the fever was settling in causing him to be delirious saying disturbing and violent stuff just to try to get you to leave him to die not wanting you to remember him as a husk ,"But I remember that I saw you frown, I swear it wasn't me, it was the virus" you clung to him even though you knew he couldnt wrap his arms around you or share the same emotions anymore "please forgive me for whatever i do, when i dont remember you" you finish reading looking up at the man you still love and refused to leave behind catching just a glimpse of rememberance swirling in his eyes as he stared down at you.

[snowyquokka]

HOME

jeongin x fem reader

cw: angst (😈), breakup, kissing, swearing, mutual pining, mentions of cheating, kinda toxic/asshole seungmin (FORGIVE ME), not proof read bc why tf would i do that (im too lazy so my apologies if some of it doesn’t make sense lmfao-)

wc: 3.1k

a.n - so this is not how it was originally supposed to be 😭 it started as a seungmin fic but spiraled into whatever monstrosity this is lmao. everyone thank @solisyeah for the request ily. anywho i hope it’s good <3

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Seungmin furrows his brows as he inspects the photo on his screen. A photo of you with another guy, in his lap with your face nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

Just like you do with Seungmin.

On the very couch he’s sitting on.

At first he thought it was edited, because there’s no way you’d cheat on him, right? But as he took a closer look he just knew it was real.

He was tired, sore, and downright miserable from a rough day at the studio; he had to take way too many breaks for his liking and this picture was just the thing he needed to send him right off the deep end.

He shot up from his spot on the couch so fast it made his head spin, but that didn’t deter him from storming into your bedroom where you were sitting on the bed, aimlessly scrolling through your phone. Once you see his face you can automatically sense something’s wrong.

“Seung?” You tilt your head as you watch him take your apartment key off of his key ring before placing it on your dresser with a clink.

“Seungmin what are you doing?” You jump off of your bed as he slides his shoes on. He runs his fingers through his hair with a frustrated huff.

“I don’t- I think we just need a break. I need a break.” These words were the last thing you imagined to ever come out of his mouth, in this context especially. Or lack there of.

“Wha- why?” Your eyes glaze over with unshed tears that threaten to spill at any given moment. You don’t want to cry in front of him, you’ve always hated having your raw emotions on display like that, especially in such a powerless situation. “Seungmin, talk to me. What the fuck is going on?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. I’m not stupid.” Seungmin shakes his head “Did you really think you could hide it from me?”

“Hide what, Seungmin?”

“You should’ve just fucking left me. Spared my feelings, maybe. But I guess you’re just too selfish for that.”

Without another word he rushes out of the room, leaving you in shambles with nothing else to do but slide to the floor, curl into yourself and let the sobs take over your body.

Seungmin can hear you crying before he even walks out of the front door, causing his heart to clench in his chest and his gut to twist. Standing with his hand just brushing the door handle, he has to physically force himself to press on, to let you go, to accept his reality. The door slams shut behind him and the noise only pushes you further towards the realization that this is actually happening. You aren’t hallucinating, this isn’t some fucked up fever dream or an even more fucked up prank.

You just wish you knew why. No matter how much you try to put the pieces together, you’re always missing something. You can’t think of anything that could’ve set him off. Everything was perfectly normal less than an hour ago, yet all it took was five minutes to trigger the downward spiral of what feels like the end of the world- the end of your world.

-

“What’re you doing back here?” Jeongin slides next to Seungmin - who is still eyeing up the picture on his screen - on the floor. Jeongin nods towards the phone, “What’s that?”

Seungmin huffs and leans his head against the wall behind him, “I honestly don’t fucking know, I don’t even really want to know, actually.”

Jeongin reaches for the phone, pulling it out of Seungmin’s grasp. His lips part in a silent ‘oh’ as he inspects the photo. He’s assuming Seungmin hadn’t even given you a chance to explain solely based on his reaction, in typical Seungmin fashion. Jeongin turns his body to face the other, his face set in an almost disappointed expression.

“I’m going to say this with the utmost respect and I need you to not cause me any bodily harm-” Jeongin sighs before continuing, “You’re a dumbass. Like the dumbest dumbass I think I’ve ever seen. Like paboracha level dumbass. I’m talking-”

“Are you done?” Seungmin groans and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Are you done? God- you just fucked yourself over. If I were you I’d start praying that she’ll still take you back after all this crazy shit.”

“How did I fuck myself over when she’s the one cheating? Or am I supposed to just forget about that and take the blame for it all like usual? She brought another guy into the same place I spend almost all my time at, and probably fucked hi-” Jeongin slaps his hand over Seungmin’s mouth, effectively silencing him before he could carry on with his bullshit.

“Hyung. Shut up.” The maknae slowly pulls his hand away as Seungmin’s eyebrows shoot upward. “Look I get it, you’re tired, you’re upset, you’re angry bu-”

“Can you fucking blame me? I can’t unsee it. I mean, you see how comfortable she looked with him.” he clenches his fists.

“Will you keep your mouth closed already? You’re killing me here, got a massive migraine now.” Jeongin groans and rubs his temples as he speaks “That picture was taken over a year ago. Before you even knew she existed, hyung. Besides, I know her better than anyone ever will, other than you obviously, which is why I suggest that you get your ass up and go apologize for being such a dumb fuck. Beg for her forgiveness if you gotta. Maybe get on your knees while you’re at it.” he sighs and stands, holding his hand out to Seungmin before pulling him up.

“How do you know she isn’t lying to you? How do you know she isn’t lying about anything else?” Seungmin finally says.

“Because she loves you too much to do that to you. God, have you always been this dense? You seriously need to wake up and realize how stupid you sound.” Jeongin mocks, prompting Seungmin to glare at him one last time before walking out of the studio. All the while unbeknownst to the younger standing with a frown threatening to pull at the corners of his mouth.

“He’s a fucking idiot if he let’s her go over this,” he mutters begrudgingly while he listens to the soft pur of Seungmin’s car in the distance.

-

Almost a week later you’re still waking up with puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. The first thing you notice is Seungmin’s apartment key still sitting on the dresser untouched. Well, it used to be his. You were really hoping that it was all just a shitty nightmare and that you’d still be tucked in his side with his soft snores being the only sound to fill the room even though it’s been days.

You realize what had stirred you awake as another knock fills the almost suffocating silence. You’re half tempted to just ignore it, but something in your gut tells you to answer it.

“Oh, uhm- hi Innie.” you wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie. Or Seungmins hoodie, rather.

God you need to pull yourself together. How could you not even realize what you were wearing. Fuck.

“Hey,” Jeongin rocks back on his heels somewhat awkwardly, “Can I come in?”

You nod and mumble a soft ‘of course‘ as you move out of the way for him to slip past the threshold and into your apartment while you take a moment to collect yourself, and to put on the most convincing smile you can possibly muster.

“What’s up?” you find a spot on the couch next to him as he scans the room for a second, looking for any signs of whether or not Seungmin actually showed.

“He’s not here, is he?” Jeongin turns to you with sympathetic eyes, finding your own longing for comfort, seemingly pleading him for some sort of consolation.

“N-no but he’ll probably be back so-”

“He’s not coming back, y/n. If he was, it would’ve been days ago.”

Before you can open your mouth to protest, Jeongin has you pulled into his strong chest and tucks your head under his chin gently. “It’s okay, baby. I got you.” he sighs, rubbing small and slow circles on your back just the way he knows you like. He places a small, chaste kiss on the top of your head because he’s learned over the years that the action relaxes you and makes you feel secure.

Jeongin knows you like the back of his hand. Sometimes he thinks he knows you better than he knows himself. He knows your favorite food, your favorite season, your favorite movie. He knows how much you love to read, having periodically skimmed your shelves for books you may have and promptly buying you ones that you haven’t already buried your nose in.

Most importantly, he knows exactly what to say in order to subside your bad moods (he’s well seasoned in this field), and that sometimes you say things you don’t mean yet he never - and will never - hold that against you.

He knows just how much you loved Seungmin, not even wanting to imagine the amount of absolute heartbreak you’re feeling. Despite all this, he can’t help but feel somewhat relieved. You and Seungmin undoubtedly wouldn’t have worked in the long run and that’s exactly what you desire and deserve: a stable, long term relationship where you’d be taken care of and treated like the absolute goddess that Jeongin thinks you are.

He just wishes you give him a chance to treat you like his- more so than he already does now.

“Thank you, In,” you mumble into his chest.

“You don’t need thank me, baby. You know I’m always here.”

You did know that, you’ve always known that. Jeongin doesn’t let you doubt how much he cares for you, he’ll spend every waking moment reminding you if he has to.

You pull back slightly to look into his eyes. “I always end up burdening you with my problems.” Jeongin’s eyes soften at your apology and all he wants to do is hug and kiss and cuddle you until he thinks he’s convinced you enough of his adoration.

But for now all he can do is settle for words, though he can’t help but think it won’t be enough.

“Baby, please don’t be sorry for that. What kind of best friend would I be if I never listened to your complaints or rants?” Calling himself your best friend took more out of him than it should have and he tries to hide his hesitation. Thankfully you hadn’t noticed.

Hearing Jeongin say this makes you realize that he’s treated you better than any boyfriend you’ve ever had. Seungmin never reassured you like Jeongin does. Actually, now that you think about it, Seungmin didn’t do half of the things Jeongin does, even if it was the bare minimum.

He’s always like this, but why does it feel different now?

That’s just his personality, right? There isn’t any hidden meaning behind his words or gestures. Or the way he’s holding you and speaking to you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever had contact with. The sudden urge to reach out and cup his face is unreal. You just want to make sure you aren’t hallucinating. You wonder how you managed to find such a perfect person who thinks the world of you just as much as you do them. Someone who loves you just as deeply and truly as you do.

Wait what?

You’ve singlehandedly scared and confused yourself all at once now. Obviously you love him and he does you, but it feels as though you love him in a different way. A special way, one that you don’t think you’ve ever felt for anyone. Not even Seungmin, who you once thought was hands down your soulmate.

What you failed to realize, however, was that your soulmate has been here the whole time, and he’s holding you in his arms like he never wants to let you go.

You cut off your train of thought because he doesn’t want you like that and you’re making assumptions that could get you hurt.

Too late.

Another wave of sadness that has nothing to do with Seungmin washes over you.

“Baby? Hey, where’d you go?” Baby. Fucking baby. He’s got to stop calling you that. You want to tell him to stop, so why can’t you open your mouth and form those simple words.

“Mhm, ’m okay.” You can’t even bring yourself to put the tiniest bit of distance between your bodies.

You mentally scream at yourself for sounding so noticeably pathetic. He must think you are. How could he not when you’re making it so painfully obvious?

“Don’t hide from me, baby. You know you don’t need to hide anything from me.” How ironic.

“I’m not- I just-” you huff and lean your forehead against Jeongin’s chest. God, when did he get so…buff? Has he always been like this?

He pulls your head back to force your gaze to meet his. “What did I tell you, hm? Talk to me. I’m all ears.” His arms encircling your body is the last straw before the world comes crashing down on you.

Tears flood your vision and you aren’t even sure as to why you’re crying this time.

Pathetic and dramatic. Great.

Jeongin immediately thinks he’s overstepped now, he took it too far and made you uncomfortable. He removes his hands from you immediately though the action kills him inside, when in reality you want the exact opposite. You want him to pull you closer, you want your chest flush against his to the point where you can feel his heart beating.

“I’m sorry, Innie. I’m sorry.” You finally climb out of his grasp and step away from him. He follows you and with every step he takes forward you move backward until you collide with the wall.

“Why are you sorry when you didn’t do anything wrong? I don’t want you apologizing to me for no reason. If anyone should be apologizing it’s Seungmin, but it’s his fault and his loss, you know that.” You wish Jeongin would stop being so supportive, it’s making it ten times harder to ignore your surfacing issues.

“That’s not the problem, Jeongin.”

Since when did you call him by his full name?

“Then what is it? Is it me? Please I- I just want to help you.”

Your tears have finally halted and you couldn’t be more thankful. You need to be able to properly look into his eyes.

“You can’t help me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

“Why are you being so difficult all of a sudden?”

“I’m not.” You cross your arms over your chest.

Jeongin blows out a frustrated huff. “Why can’t you tell me? Is it because Seungmin and I are friends becau-”

“I love you.”

“I know you do, which exactly is why you should be talking to me right now instead of bottling it all up-”

“No, Jeongin. I love you. Not in a friend way, not in a platonic way. I want to kiss you and hold you and-” You’ve worked yourself up so much you have cut yourself off in order to calm down.

Jeongin’s mouth stays agape for a solid five seconds before he even processes what you’ve said. “You love me?”

“Is that not what I just said?” Jeongin has to bite back his smile at your remark but quickly frowns again at the expression on your face. You look regretful, like you wish you never spoke. You’re just waiting for his rejection, willing it to come faster so you he’ll leave and you can wallow in self pity by yourself in the comfort of your bed. You disturbed the peace that was your friendship.

“I- the breakup is still fresh and you aren’t thinking straight, baby. Don’t say things you don’t mean.” Jeongin pleads. Is he trying to convince you or himself?

“But I do mean it Jeongin. I really do and I can’t believe it took me this fucking long to figure it out and I wish I’d never caught feelings because this is just a shit show now.”

He goes to speak but you quickly interrupt him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Just forget about it,” you expect him to leave, or to at least move away. But he doesn’t, instead he leans in closer to your ear and whispers in a hushed tone,

“Didn’t I just tell you to stop apologizing, baby?” The way he says ‘baby’ sends shivers down your spine, it’s different than the other times he’s called you that. This time his words actually do have a hidden meaning. His breath ghosts the shell of your ear for a moment before he slowly pulls back to look at you. As if he hasn’t studied your every feature to the point where you’re engraved in his mind.

“You have to promise me that you actually understand what you’re saying and that it isn’t the post breakup neediness talking.” He looks at you sternly and fully expecting a response in words.

You, on the other hand, have absolutely no intention of speaking as you instead grab him by the collar of his hoodie before pressing your lips against his.

Kissing your best friend is much more intimate than you ever expected. He kisses you like it’s not the first time and with more than enough purpose. It starts off aggressive but soon simmers down into a delightfully slow and passionate rhythm and as cliche as it sounds, it’s in this moment that you finally know where you belong, where your home is.

No matter the circumstances, Jeongin always left a space for you in his heart. His subconscious wouldn’t let him fill it with someone else even if he wanted (which he didn’t), forever waiting for you to find the spot with your name written all over it and stay there for as long as you may live.

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tags: @skzstarnet @godslino @myseungsunglove @seungseung-minmin @azuna-sz @chanyeolsrealwife

[froggibus]

Resurrection - Wally West

Pairing: Wally West x gn! Reader, platonic! Dick Grayson x reader

Genre: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 5.5k

Summary: it’s been almost a year since Wally died, and life has not been kind to you. it doesn’t help that when you get the flu and your fever spikes, you start seeing the speedster everywhere you turn

CW: loss of a loved one, grief, sickness, hallucinations, reader is worried they’re going crazy, overactive imagination, mentions of death, mentions of suicide, panic attacks, ghosts, reader was a part of Young Justice, mutual pining, friends to lovers, resurrection

This alludes heavily to the Young Justice tv show, especially Wally’s death. I apologize in advance because I have poor knowledge of the Flash Family and speedforce!!

day 1 of me pushing my Wally West agenda!! i absolutely adore Wally, and im so happy to be writing about him. this is literally the longest thing ive ever posted on this site but I got so into the story that I couldn’t stop. hopefully this makes sense and isn’t just a jumble of words 😭also i think from now on im gonna include wally in any of my dick/jason/tim hcs

also im very tempted to do a pt2/make a series of wally adapting to life afterwards

————

You groan in your bed, your fever spiking to an almost unbearable temperature. You spend a lot of time in bed nowadays—ever since your best friend died almost a year ago, you haven’t had the drive to do much. But being sick the past week has only confined you to your bed even more. 

You roll over, hoping the other half of your pillow is somehow cooler than the side you’re on now. It’s not, and your body feels like it’s going to overheat. If it was possible to put less clothing on, you would, but the chances of your roommate coming in and seeing you naked are too high. 

Speaking of your roommate, you know that when Dick comes home and sees how bad your temperature has gotten, he’ll rush you to the hospital. Paranoid, big brother Dick who insists he can’t lose another friend. Dick, who moved in with you a few months after Wally died because he was afraid you might hurt yourself. Dick, who forced you to put socks on and keep most of your clothes on because even though you feel hot, he knows you’re still vulnerable to the cold. 

The socks scratch at your ankles now and you long to pull them off, lazily dragging your feet together. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to calm your burning nerve ends. 

As much pain as you’re in, this is the most you’ve felt since Wally died. From the day you watched him get vaporised, everything around you has just gotten duller by the day. You can hardly stomach to put on your costume, let alone look at Barry or Bart. Even seeing The Flash on the news is enough to make you sick. 

“Y/n,” a soft voice echoes from the bed next to you. 

You force your eyes open, your dark room greeting you. “Hello?”

There’s no answer, and you’re able to close your eyes again. You relax into your bedsheets, kicking the blankets off of your legs in a desperate attempt to get some relief. Clearly your fever has spiked to the point where you’re losing it. 

“Y/n!” The voice is stronger now, and it sounds more desperate than before. More than that—there’s something familiar to it. 

You open your eyes again and gasp, all of the breath leaving your body. There, sitting on the bed next to you, is Wally. His green eyes are full of concern, his mouth pulled into a tight line. 

“Oh god,” you whine, “I really am losing it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the hallucination of your dead best friend to go away. How could any god be so cruel to inflict this on you? Knowing how you felt about Wally—and what he’d said to you during your last moments together?

When you open your eyes again, he’s still sitting there. His unruly red hair is falling into his face and all you want is to reach out and brush it away. 

“You’re not losing it,” he says. 

“I’m so sick that I’m hallucinating my dead best friend. How is that not losing it?”

He shrugs. “I mean it does sound pretty crazy, but I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You’re dead,” you say simply, voice void of emotions. “You died and you left and you’re never coming back.”

“I got better.”

Everything about him screams Wally. His voice, his mannerisms, even the stupid jokes he makes. But you know it’s just your brain playing a stupid trick on you. Your braincells have overheated and you’re left staring at a ghost. 

“No, you didn’t. And you never will, Wally. And I know that so I don’t get why my stupid brain can’t leave this alone.”

He lays down on his side next to you, looking up at you with those doe eyes. “There wasn’t a body, you know.”

His words make you angry, they make you choke on the lump in your throat. But he’s right. Something about his death always seemed wrong to you, and even after this long, you still can’t accept it. He’s saying all of the right things, and it almost makes you believe he’s really here. 

“So say you are here…why now? Why here? Why am I the only one who’s seen you?”

He strokes his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “I don’t really know, y/n. I’ve been here the whole time. I’ve watched everything. I know how hard things have been for you guys…” 

You don’t say anything, just staring at him expectantly, forcing him to keep talking. 

“I’m sorry you’re sick, but I’m glad Dick is taking care of you.”

“Answer the question, Wally. Why now?”

He sighs. “I think it’s because you’re sick. I think once your fever got past a certain point you were able to hear me, and once you could hear me, you could see me.”

“How would that even work?” You squint at him, “how did you even know I could hear you?”

“I didn’t it’s just—it’s a habit to talk to you, you know? But anyway, I think it has something to do with the speed force being attracted to the release of energy, and whenever you have a fever, you release massive amounts of it. But since yours is so high…” he gestures at himself for emphasis. 

“So as long as I stay sick, I can see you?”

“I think so.”

“Then I never want to get better,” you murmur. 

“Y/n,” he sighs, and the tone he uses makes you freeze. You’ve only ever heard him use it once before—with you on the day he died. 

The thought brings a tear to your eye, his words echoing in your ears. I love you, y/n, I always have. I’ll be back for you, okay?

When Dick gets home from work, he’s surprised to hear you talking. His first instinct is that you’re feeling better and you’re arranging to go back to work, but as he gets closer to your bedroom door, he realizes it’s not the case. 

He listens in for a bit, hearing a one sided conversation. As soon as he hears you say ‘Wally’, he’s barging through your door only to find you talking to the air. 

“Dick!” You cry out, gesturing to the empty bed next to you, “look! He’s back, he’s here. Wally’s here!”

Dick’s heart aches for you. You’re clearly unwell and in your feverish state, your mind is playing tricks on you. 

“Y/n,” Dick sighs, “I think it’s time we go to a doctor.”

He approaches your bedside slowly, trying not to startle or upset you. He knows you’re hallucinating, and he really doesn’t want to trigger anything worse to happen. 

He kneels at your bedside, just behind Wally. “Come on, we need to get you to the hospital.”

“N-no! I can’t leave Wally!”

Wally’s face crinkles up the way it always has when he feels guilty. “Y/n, I think you should go with Rob.”

“No!” You cry out, “you can’t leave me again!”

Dick gives you no warning before he’s pulling you into his arms, your feverish skin scorching his. He holds you securely, even as you cry and beg him to take you back to Wally. 

“Wally, please! Do something! Let him see you! Don’t—don’t leave me again!”

“Y/n,” Dick rubs your sweaty hair out of your face. “It’s gonna be okay. You’re really sick, and you’re hallucinating, but we’ll make you all better. I just need you to trust me.”

You take a deep breath, and then another, looking over Dick’s shoulder at the redhead sitting on your bed, giving you a sad look. He gives you a wave, “it’s okay, y/n. Everything will be okay.”

You just hope he’s right. 

—

The hospital takes an eternity to admit you, leaving you lying on Dick’s lap in the waiting room. You keep your eyes closed, hoping that if you open them Wally will be there, but you know he won’t. 

Dick strokes your hair, rubs your back, does anything he can to keep you comfortable. When a nurse finally calls your name, he helps you to your feet and half carries you down the hall. 

They leave the two of you in a small, isolated room with a bed covered in scratchy sheets. Dick helps you climb up while the nurse insists a doctor will be by shortly. 

Dick holds your hand the whole time, the skin on his palm turning sweaty from where your hand touches his. Your fever has only gone up since you left the house and you feel like you’re going to burn alive. 

Finally, a doctor comes in and she starts to run all kinds of tests on you. After a while, they insert an IV into your arm and push fluids to keep you hydrated. They give you medicine to help you drift off to sleep, your eyes fluttering shut before you realize what’s happening. 

You wake up a few hours later, Dick no longer asleep at your bedside. Your temperature has gone down, and while you still feel feverish, you’re coherent enough to know what’s going on around you. 

“—hallucinating our best friend who died almost a year ago.” Dick tried to keep his voice down but you can hear it from the hallway. 

“It’s common in extremely high fever’s to experience visual, auditory and sometimes even tactile hallucinations,” the doctor explains. “Y/n’s fever was beyond high enough to cause any number of these complications.” 

Your shoulders slump. You knew deep down that Wally wasn’t really there, that he was a hallucination, but a part of you just hoped…

“But it’s going to be alright? There’s not any permanent side effects?”

The doctor sounds tired of Dick’s questions. “No, we’re keeping y/n overnight for observation but there shouldn’t be any long term side effects.”

Dick thanks the woman and slips back into your room, stopping in his tracks past the door when he realises you’re awake. “How are you feeling?” He whispers. 

“Somewhat better,” you admit. “Not hallucinating anymore.”

He sits in the chair next to your bed and squeezes your hand. “That’s good to hear.”

“I-I’m sorry if I upset you earlier…talking about Wally and everything. I just—it seemed so real, you know? He was right there, Dick.”

“I know. You don’t need to apologize. Your mind was playing tricks on you, n/n. I know you didn’t mean any harm by it.”

You can’t help the tears that trickle down your cheeks. “I just—I miss him so much!” 

“It’s okay,” Dick leans over your bed, pulling you tightly to his chest. “I miss him too. I miss him so, so much. And if there was any chance…you know I would take it too.”

“Did I ever tell you what he said to me that day? Just before he passed?”

Dick shakes his head. 

“He said—,” your voice shakes so severely it’s hard to get the words out. “He said ‘I love you, y/n. I always have. I’ll be back for you, okay?’” 

The gears in Dick’s brain click together, and suddenly everything makes sense. It was no secret that you and Wally had been pining after each other for years. Always cuddling and fighting and loving and hating each other. Dick was close to both of you, and he of all people knew how your feelings were bubbling over. He knew how badly you wanted to be with Wally—and how badly Wally wanted to be with you.

It’s a cruel joke, he thinks. That in one day you got everything you wanted, and an hour later had it ripped away. No wonder you’d been like a zombie this year.

“Y/n…” he squeezes your hand reassuringly. 

You squeeze his hand back, and between the fever and the medicine and Dick’s skin on yours, everything in the world feels right for a minute. 

—

It takes two weeks for you to fully recover from being sick. If it weren’t for your roommate being the ultra rich adoptive son of Bruce Wayne, you probably would have had to go back to work sooner. Dick insisted that you stay home until you were fully recovered, though, offering to cover your bills for the month. 

It’s also been two weeks since you saw Wally. It’s been easy to brush it off as a fever dream, but something deep within you wants it to be something more than that. Still, you try to continue on with your day to day life, putting thoughts of the speedster as far away from you as possible. 

You pull into the Bludhaven News parking lot with ten minutes to spare. You grab your bag from the passenger seat and clip your badge to your shirt before grabbing the coffee you’d stopped for on the way. You’re determined to make today a good day. 

You settle in at your desk, smiling at the picture of you and the original Young Justice team was kids. It makes you happy, but in the most bittersweet meaning of the word. You run your fingers across the glass, stopping them at the lightning symbol on Wally’s chest. 

You’re interrupted by your boss stopping at your desk. 

“Hey, l/n, good to have you back,” she smiles, and you feel as though she really means it. “We’re having a meeting in five minutes.”

You nod, thanking her. She leaves you at your desk, letting you get organized before you have to meet them in the conference room. 

You bring your laptop and coffee and settle in at the big round table in the spinning desk chair. Other journalists, reporters and higher ups slowly file into the room, filling it up until it’s so full it feels almost hard to breathe. 

Your boss enters the room last, standing at the front in front of the tv. She welcomes you back before explaining what’s going on in current events, and what she expects everyone to report on. 

You sip your coffee, zoning out for the majority of her presentation. Every once and a while, she clicks a remote and the screen changes to a new slide. You don’t pay much attention to the tv, only glancing at it every so often. 

When the screen changes to three familiar figures, you freeze. It feels like someone dumped cold water on you, and you’re painfully aware of everything going on around you. 

The screen shows Wally, Bart and Barry on the day he died. Wally has a big grin on his face, clad in his Kid Flash suit, giving a salute to a security camera. You’re not sure how they got this picture, but a part of you wishes they didn’t. 

“—the one year anniversary since the Flash Family saved the world, and since Kid Flash bravely sacrificed himself to achieve this goal. We want to honour them for their ultimate sacrifice, and that’s why this month, we’ll be doing daily pieces on the great exploits of the family. Also—,”

Her words echo in your ears, everything feels far away from you. The only thing you can focus on is the way your heart is pounding and the way all the air is sucked out of your lungs. Wally’s face stares at you from the tv screen, and the walls close in. 

You’re on your feet in an instant. “Pardon me,” you rasp out, before almost running out of the room. 

You’re not sure where you’re going. Your head is spinning, your heart is racing, everything is fading away. You stumble your way into the bathroom, locking the door behind you before your knees buckle and you hit the floor. 

You claw at your throat, desperate for air. You squeeze your eyes shut, clenching your fists, desperate for pressure. When you open your eyes, you swear Wally is there. 

“You’re not here,” you gasp. “You’re not real.”

Wally’s green eyes are wide, staring at you with concern. “Y/n—,”

“You’re not real! You’re just some ghost—fucking haunting me for no reason at all!”

It breaks his heart to see you like this. So sad, so hurt, barely able to breathe. 

“Stop,” you choke out, “stop haunting me! Stop, stop, stop it!”

Wally hasn’t seen you have a panic attack this bad since you were kids. Curled up in a ball, gasping for air and repeating the same word over and over again. He’s desperate to help you—help you like he did back then. 

He doesn’t even register what he’s doing until he pulls you into his lap, arms tight around your waist. He keeps a hand over your heart, tracing circles over it. 

“Y/n, y/n…” He murmurs softly, “y/n, listen to me. Deep breath in, okay? Follow my example, feel my heart beating.”

You’re not sure how you can feel his arms on you, feel his heart beating against your back. You’re half convinced you’ve already fainted, and you’re laying on the bathroom floor having another fever dream. 

Still, you follow his example. You breathe in when you feel his chest rise, and breathe out when you feel his chest fall. You stay silent for a few minutes, leaning completely against Wally until you can breathe again. 

Wally rubs your hair, his other hand tracing circles on your hip bone. “How are you feeling?” He asks. 

“Better,” you admit. 

It takes a few minutes longer for either of you to register that he’s touching you. His hands are on your body and you can feel them. 

“Wally, you’re touching me.”

“I’m touching you?”

The shock is almost enough to send you back into a panic attack. Ghosts can’t touch people, neither can fever dreams. But somehow, someway, Wally West is holding you in his arms. 

—

You leave the bathroom ten minutes later, after you and Wally went back and forth on if he was really there with you or not. You insist you’re losing it, but Wally insists he’s there, and somehow when you were sick, you connected to the speed force and now you can see him. 

You head back to your desk with no intention of working, set on researching the speed force and if it’s possible to connect to it without being a speedster. Of course, Google doesn’t yield the results you hope, so you decide to go a different route. 

You pull out your phone and text Dick. 

You: do you think you could get me Barry’s number? need it for work 

Robin 1.0: I think I can manage 

You: you’re the best 

Robin 1.0: don’t you know it

It only takes a few minutes before he texts you his contact for Barry Allen. You waste no time in opening the contact and sending him a quick text. 

Of course, you don’t get to see what he responds because suddenly your boss is over your shoulder. 

“Y/n, you know what our policy is on personal devices at work. There’s too much sensitive information here.”

“I know, I know. But if I play my cards right,” your ability to think on your feet coming in handy, “I could get us an exclusive interview with the Flash.”

She lights up at that. “Okay, but remember, no pictures or recordings.”

“Sure thing,” you nod and wait for her to leave before opening up your phone and seeing that you have a new text. 

You: can I ask you a few questions on the speed force?

Barry Allen: sure thing

You: i know the speedforce is like it’s own separate thing that speedsters connect to, but is it possible for non speedsters to connect to it? 

Barry Allen: only under extenuating circumstances. not every ordinary person can just connect to it, but if you’ve been in contact with the speedforce unwittingly or if a speedster has accidentally shared particles with you it’s possible. why?

You: just…a theory im working on for work. we’re doing a piece on Flash Family to honour you guys for saving the world and I wanted to look into it more 

You: thank you

Barry Allen: do you think you’ve been in contact with a speedster recently?

You: i don’t know, if I’m being honest. 

Barry Allen: okay…keep me updated, okay? if you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask 

You: thanks

You frown, your conversation with Barry only making you feel more confused. How would you have had contact with a speedster or the speedforce? It’s been almost a year since you last touched Wally, and there’s no way the symptoms are only coming out now. And the speedforce—there’s no way for you to have connected with it either. 

You look up from your phone only to see Wally sitting on your desk, looking at you with amusement. “Get what you wanted?”

“Why are you still here?”

“What?” He holds his hand over his chest, feigning hurt. “You don’t want me here?”

You go to speak but realize your coworkers are giving you strange looks. You quickly put your phone up to your ear, pretending to be on a phone call. 

“Of course I want you here. I lo—miss you, okay? But it’s not possible. You shouldn’t be here.”

“But I am, y/n. And did Barry not just confirm that to you?”

You sigh. “I will admit, what Barry said does confirm my theory, and what you said while I was sick but…”

“But?”

“It shouldn’t be possible. You were vaporized, Wally. You’re dead. So even if you are here, you’re just a ghost.” 

“Ghost, schmost,” he rolls his eyes, leaning in to flick your arm. “Does that not feel real to you?”

“I don’t know, okay? Just—I need time to think. About everything.”

You don’t say it, but it lingers in the air: I need time to think about you. 

You put your phone down, indicating to the boy that you’re done talking, before returning to your job. The day goes by fast when you’re contemplating if you’re actually being haunted by the ghost of your best friend or not. 

Before you know it, you’re heading home. When you get through the door of the apartment, Dick is nowhere to be found. He must still be at work, you think. 

You kick off your shoes and set your bag on the counter before throwing yourself on your bed. You lay down for only a minute before a familiar cologne fills your scent. One you haven’t smelled in a long time. 

You don’t need to open your eyes to know that Wally is back. “What are you doing here?”

“I was hoping I could catch you changing,” you can hear the grin in his voice. 

You sit up, staring at him with wide eyes. “Wait—if you’ve been here this whole time then…?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I didn’t! I mean, I thought about it but…it feels wrong.” 

“More wrong than confessing your love to me and then dying?”

Both of you freeze after that, and your hand flies up to your mouth as if you can force the words back in there. 

“I—y/n…you know that if I had a choice, I would have come back to you. Right?”

You nod, “I know. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” he places a hand over yours. “I wanted to come back to you. Even though you didn’t say it back, I just thought—”

“You didn’t give me a chance to say it back! You dumped all that on me and then you ran away and left, Wally! You didn’t give me the chance!”

Your outburst surprises both of you. Wally isn’t sure what to do—if he should apologize or be angry or both or neither. So he says nothing. 

“I-I think you should go, Wally. You’re only doing harm by being here. You’re dead and I need to move on and I never will if you’re just here haunting me.”

You expect him to argue or to make a joke, but the boy doesn’t do any of that. He gives you a lazy, one handed salute, like the kind he would give before speeding away as kids. 

And then he disappears. 

You feel sad and angry all at the same time. You know it’s not fair to Wally to lash out at him like that, but how is it fair for him to open up old wounds? For him to haunt you? 

When Dick gets home, he’s surprised to see you dressed in your old costume. It’s been so long since you put it on, you look almost strange to him. 

“Uh, y/n?” He asks, “not that I’m against this but, what’s up with the costume?”

“I was thinking I could go out on patrol with you tonight,” you explain. “It’s been a while. I need to blow off steam.” 

“Okay, let me get changed.”

That’s good enough for you, so you settle in at the counter and wait for Nightwing to suit up. He comes out a few minutes later, clad in the black and blue Nightwing suit. 

He looks at you seriously through his domino mask. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“If I don’t get out, I’ll go stir crazy.”

“Okay, okay,” he raises his hands in surrender. “But don’t push yourself, okay? And I’ll be there the whole time.”

“Alright, dad,” you roll your eyes. “Let’s go.”

—

Patrol goes fine. It’s just the usual robberies and gang violence, nothing that you and Nightwing can’t handle. Of course, that’s until you hear there’s a bank robbery over the scanner. 

The two of you are about to take off and head towards the bank when you hear the radio go off again. This time, it’s a jewellery store being robbed. 

“Go!” You say to Nightwing, “you get the bank, I can handle the store.”

He seems content with that answer, grappling to the nearest rooftop and heading off towards the bank. You turn and head towards the jewellery store, hoping it’s enough to take your mind off of Wally. 

You get to the store just in time to stop the robbers from shooting the owner.  You knock the gun out of one of their hands, turning to fight the other one. There’s five total, maybe six, but your vision is tunnelling and all you can focus on is the adrenaline pumping through your veins and your need for a distraction. 

You make your way through three of them, and just as you turn to fight the fourth, you hear someone yell from behind you. 

“Y/n, look out!”

You knock out the fourth and turn around, just in time to see Wally West pass through you and punch the man in the face. He hits him hard enough to send him falling to the floor.

You stare at Wally in shock. “You—you hit him!”

“Are you okay?” He’s breathing hard, chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“You saved me…” You mutter. “How did you do that?”

“I-I don’t know,” he admits, placing his hands on your shoulders. “I just didn’t want you to get hurt and then I passed through you and—”

“Dick!” You exclaim, realising you haven’t heard anything from him in a while, and that he still hasn’t returned to you. “Somethings wrong, Wal. We—I gotta go!”

Wally goes to protest, but you’re already running away. Not only are you running away, you’re running at the speed of light, yellow lightning crackling from your ankles. You don’t realize it, too focused on getting to Dick. 

You arrive at the bank to see a bunch of lackeys passed out on the floor. Nightwing is leaning on a counter, holding his hands over a bullet hole in his side. 

“Hey!” You cry out, skidding to a stop next to him. The bank smells gross, like gunpowder and..burning rubber? “Are you okay? Did you get them all?”

He clenched his jaw. “All but one. He headed North, there’s no way we’ll catch him. He’s probably out of town by now.”

“No, he’s not going to get away with this. We’re going to find him.”

And before Dick can ask, you’re tearing away from the bank, lightning in your wake. His jaw falls open at the sight. In the dark, with the speed you’re going and the lightning coming out, you almost look like Wally…

You run as fast as you can, keeping your eyes peeled for the man driving the truck of jewels. You catch up to him in no time, throwing your body weight against the truck fast enough to tip it over. 

Your veins are electrified, pure lightning in your system, better than adrenaline ever could be. You rip the man out of the truck and toss him onto the street. It only takes one hit for you to knock him out, and only a few more seconds to tie him up. 

It’s then that you realize what just happened, how fast you were going. You look down to see the soles of your shoes on fire, the thighs of your costume torn open from the fabric chafing so fast.

Something about the ruined shoes and the torn fabric makes you think of Wally, and the thought of the ghost in the bank saving your life only makes you want to run even more. Is this how he felt everytime he ran? It’s exhilarating, it only makes you want more.

You keep running, running straight up the side of a building before stopping in your tracks on the roof. How did this even happen? You look around, half expecting to see Wally there, but he’s not. 

Your legs quiver, threatening to collapse beneath you. Your feet ache from all of the running and your shoes have practically disintegrated into nothing. You know you’re done for the night, your body at its absolute limit. 

Your knees buckle, but before you can hit the ground, there’s a streak of yellow and suddenly Wally is holding you up against his chest. 

“I—what’s going on?” You ask. 

Wally holds you up with one arm, staring at his other hand. He shakes it, going fast enough to make it seem as though his hand is vibrating. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I—something’s changed. I can feel it.”

You hear the unmistakable sound of a grappling hook before Nightwing is landing on the roof. “Holy shit, y/n. How were you going so fast? For a second there, I thought it was—Wally?”

His face pales at the sight of the redhead, clad in his Kid Flash suit, holding you up against his body. There’s no way he’s here now, alive and well, right in front of his eyes. 

“You…you can see him?”

Dick is running across the roof in an instant, feet pushing him closer to his best friend. He jumps on both of you, arms wrapping around you both. “Wally,” he sobs into his shoulder. “How—how are you here?”

There’s another flash of lightning—red lightning—and suddenly The Flash is standing next to you guys. “I can answer that.”

Wally grins insanely wide, making sure you’re steady against Dick before jumping to hug his former mentor. 

“How did you know I was here?” He asks. 

Barry smiles, “I could feel it. In the speedforce. There was a huge amount of energy released and then for the first time in a year, I could feel you.”

“But how did that happen?” Dick interjects, before adding, “not that we’re not happy to see you.” 

Wally goes back to hugging you, wiping off the tears that have slipped from your eyes and kissing the top of your forehead. “I think y/n here somehow borrowed my speed and-and opened a portal into the speedforce.”

“I brought you back?” Your voice is so quiet it’s barely a whisper. 

“You brought me back!” He’s beaming at you. 

He wraps his arms around your waist, spinning you in a circle. He sets you down on the ground, only to tip your head back and plant a kiss to your lips. It’s intense, passionate, full of the longing he’s felt for you since you were kids. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, using him to keep yourself up. His body is so warm and hard under your touch, so familiar to you. You draw him closer, not even caring if Dick and Barry are standing there staring at you. 

When he finally pulls away, he flashes you the biggest smile in the world. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that.”

“So,” Dick awkwardly says, “why don’t we take this back to our place?”

Wally grabs your hand in his, squeezing it tightly. “I think that’s a really good idea.”

[formulapookie]

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Under the cut to read on Tumblr, here to read on Ao3 ch1; ch2; ch3; ch4

Les fleurs du mal ch.5 rosquez, 2.1k words

It’s nine in the morning of a beautiful Sunday, he finally got all the truth Uccio for God knows what reason had chosen to change, corrupt, modify for him to see a distorted version of reality.

The telemetry, that shit was just made up, by a jealous? angry? Uccio, who chose to ruin the one good relationship in forever like that, like it had just been a flash, instead of the sun in his life.

He wanted to call Marc, hell no drive until Cervera and say he was sorry, that he had been an asshole, a terrible person, but to please forgive him because he had been shielded from the reality and couldn’t see.

That now tho he sees the love Marc always reserved for him, he sees how much Marc is willing to sacrifice for them, for the love they share.

There’s a voice note in his notifications, along with two missed calls, from Marc.

And a text from Lorenzo.

“Vale?”

“Mh?”

They’re laying in bed, at Vale’s house, softly surrounded by pearly colored sheets, the sound of the town filling the outside world.

“Do you ever think about like, the future?”

“In general or us?”

“Both”

“Well of course amore, I think of my racing career and more titles and of the time when I’ll inevitably have to retire.

And I think about us, free from the media attention, in a beautiful house near the see.

No neighbours, just us, and you are sunbathing naked next our pool and then I-“

Marc blushes, hiding his face more in the crook of Vale’s neck

“What amore? It wouldn’t be the first time I see you naked eh. I think I saw you pretty clearly last night”

“Vale! This was supposed to be romantic!”

“Is it not romantic? Making love to you in a house we share?”

“I - yeah it is”

“See? And you? You think about the future?”

“Yeah. I see us in a house in the middle of the countryside tho, with animals.

Dogs, a lot of dogs, and your strange red cat too”

“Rossano is not strange!”

“He looks at me funny whenever I’m here.

But anyway, a cute house in the countryside, just the two of us, it’s peaceful”

“But? I feel like there’s a but”

“But I also think about the sport and the danger and - Vale are you scared of death? I am terrified by it. It’s just - one day you just cease to be and I cannot think the universe is so cruel to do this”

“Amore, of course i’m scared of it, and it. In our sport it can happen. It took me years to get over the fact Marco was gone. But life ends in death no matter what we do, we have to live it at our fullest still”

“Im scared thought, I don’t like the idea of it. It’s cold you think? When you”

“I don’t know. It could be. Or it could be warm like drifting asleep with a blanket on and just - sleep”

For Marc it’s cold when he dies.

Freezing even, and so so lonely.

When Roser finds him, curled beside his bed, clutching in his arms the helmet signed by that man, it’s like being shot in the heart.

She tries to wake him, tries to call him, but he’s cold.

Unmoving.

Still like the moment she finds herself in.

Marc is holding onto that one piece of his heart like he’s still alive, the strong grip seemingly coming from a strong person.

But when she looks at him all she can see is her little boy, her son.

Pale and tired and sad.

He looks like he’s having a bad dream, the unsettling kind of dreams where you don’t precisely know where you are and can’t get out.

There’s petals on the ground.

Yellow. 

So much yellow and she just wants to burn it all away.

She cries more, calling for Marc again, trying to get him back.

But Marc can’t hear her, the only sounds in the room are Roser’s sobs and the repetitive buzz of Marc’s phone.

When Marc wakes up in the middle

of the night he’s cold, shivering.

The fever is taking over, he’s hallucinating again.

He reaches out for Vale, why is he not in bed? 

Oh right, he’s still not back yet.

But it doesn’t matter.

Because they have time.

The scratch in the back of his throat seems to be less excruciating too, like it’s being kept at bay.

Well this just means Vale is close right? 

He’s coming, finally he’s coming home to tell him he still loves him, and - and the roots will go away the same way they arrived.

“Oh I need to set the room up, Vale has to see my collection has improved, yes, he needs to see it”

Marc unpacks the two boxes Roser had stuffed full, carefully taking out the items in them.

The cap and the picture first, he places them on the shelf next to his bed, close, so close the cap covers half the picture, the half where Marc is.

Then it’s the bikes turn.

Slowly, methodically, precisely, Marc takes them out the box one by one, placing them in the same exact order he had bought them.

He sees Alex in his room, he’s not happy.

“Marc come on stop you look ridiculous”

“Ah Alex stop it, you’ve just never been in love, when you’ll be you’ll get it”

He’s standing on his bed, mattress dipping under his rapidly decreasing weight.

“You see, Vale is coming and the room has to be nice for him, I want it to be more beautiful than ever, he deserves the best”

Marc is smiling, like a kid on his birthday, waiting to blow the candles.

“Oh he’ll want the 2004 Yamaha to be the most visible for sure, he loves that bike God how he loves it”

He keeps talking to a non existing Alex, while he feels colder and colder.

“I better put on a hoodie, don’t want to catch a cold before Vale arrives for sure”

He goes pick up the one hoodie Vale left there, in his home.

It still smells like him.

He sits on the bed, legs crossed with his phone beside him, facing the door.

He stays there for minutes, maybe an hour even.

There’s no sudden buzzing of the phone, no sound of a car parking outside, no knocking on the door signaling Vale is there.

Well not yet, maybe he just doesn’t like to travel with the dark.

Yeah it - it must be that.

Because it’s either that or.

Or Vale isn’t coming.

Not now, not in a million years he’s gonna spend tidying up his room to welcome Vale back in it.

When the fever lets go of him and he sees clearly again it hurts.

Physically, mentally, emotionally it all hurts like it’s been crushed by tons and tons of rocks thrown on top of him.

Hot big tears fall from his eyes, follow the now slim outline of his cheekbones, and collect under Marc’s chin.

“He is coming. He is coming. I know he’s coming”

He tries to convince himself of this, even with the hallucination gone, he gets up and sets up the room.

It has to look exactly like it did when Vale came here last time, little bikes in their precise fragile order.

The last thing he takes out the boxes is the helmet.

Signed, a little note left for him by Vale, unmistakable messy handwriting on the clean visor.

He takes his phone, it’s stupid, childish but he can’t do otherwise.

He calls him.

Twenty, twenty five seconds of his phone ringing. No answer.

He tries again. And once again there’s no answer on the other side.

He opens their chat, it’s still on hold since the last text Vale sent.

“Good luck for the race babychamp”

He presses the button to send the voice note, the first few seconds just of silence.

“Vale. It’s me. I - please Vale it hurts so much, I can’t breathe I need you to come here quick I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry for what I did, all of it, I’m sorry I didn’t want you to lose, I didn’t want to do anything against you. I never - I never went to him, I would never cheat on you, I only ever had you please believe me Vale. Vale I love you. I’m home and, and it hurts so much. Please I need to see you. Please. I need to feel your hugs again. I’m cold Vale so cold”

The voice note sends, but there’s no blue ticks to signal it’s been read.

Marc climbs off the bed, his phone beside him, holding the helmet between his arms like it’s the most prized possession of his, he fears it may scratch, or get ruined if he accidentally bumps into the shelf he usually laid it on.

All his words now barely a whisper, he’s trying to stay anchored to reality by clutching at that damn helmet, it’s almost sunrise, almost sunrise and there’s no sign of Vale.

He abandoned him.

Vale abandoned him.

He truly hates him, he truly wants Marc to not represent a menace at all.

That’s fine. Vale will be fine without him too, he was fine before meeting him, there’s no need for Marc to exist in Vale’s life.

Maybe he’s gonna be a weight less, he will just go away, like he came in.

A breeze.

Marc can feel himself getting colder, and the petals in his throat now make it impossible to breathe.

He vomits them rather than coughing, a sea of yellow hollowness making its way out of his body, the everlasting presence of Valentino beside him even right now.

“you promised it was going to be warm like falling asleep with a blanket, but it’s cold, it’s so cold”

He’s still waiting there, looking at the door like a dog waiting for his owner does.

Argo had waited for Ulysses for years before he came back, and had died right in his arms.

But Marc knows his Ulysses won’t arrive, not even to hold him as he leaves behind the ugly and hurt of the mortal world.

He’s an abandoned dog. Even if he was loyal. He’s been abandoned.

He cries on the helmet, the last tears he can still produce, before his life abandons him too, the last breath used to hope, to call Vale’s name.

When Roser finally looks at the ID of the caller on her son’s phone she is angry.

She wants to smash that phone against a wall, make it shut up once and for all.

“Vale💛💙” identifies the person calling, the rage she feels is unexplainable through words.

She doesn’t answer. He doesn’t deserve to know from her what happened to her sweet boy, he will forever live with the guilt of having killed him. 

She only manages to call Alex and their father two hours later. 

She tells them to come there, that Marc has gone to sleep the night but hasn’t woken up now.

When Alex barges in he’s red in the face, crying and cursing.

He runs to the room they used to share, and sees how Marc has set it up once again, memories of Vale on all the shelves.

He also sees the many yellow petals littering the ground of the bedroom, a dark feeling taking residence in his chest.

“Marc? Marc it’s me, it’s Alex, I know you can hear me, you’re just sleeping, but you have to wake up, mom is getting worried. You need to wake up Marc please, I don’t know what to do without you”

“Alex he’s not-“

“HE’S ALIVE HE’S JUST - he’s just making a joke mom he - he can’t be dead mom he can’t be”

“Alex come here”

“No. No he - it’s not right. It’s not right he shouldn’t be, it shouldn’t end like this, he promised me we would’ve been together on the podium one day, he promised”

Roser has to drag Alex away from Marc, he doesn’t want to let go, he wants to save him.

“Alex. Look at me. You have to think of what Marc wanted ok?”

“Marc wanted to live! He wanted to race and win and - he wanted so many things! He’s scared of death, terrified of being alone! AND HE WAS ALONE!”

“But he wanted you to live too, he wanted you to be there on track, to be here with us. Please don’t - don’t make me lose you too Alex”

“No no i’m not going anywhere mom I promise. I’m not going away, sorry sorry sorry mom I’m staying here”

“Can you? I can’t call anyone to tell”

“Yeah yeah i I’ll uh ill call people”

“Be kind with yourself, as kind as your brother was with you ok?”

“Ok”

They think about removing everything from the room.

Putting it back in boxes.

But Marc’s last wish was probably for the room to be like this, and they couldn’t go against his wish.