#it's a very pool water summer day and that makes me feel nostalgic and okay

[miodiodavinci]

peace and love on earth <3

[isitbussinjanelle]

Reposting this because I FINALLY have an Archiveofourown account! :D (also wanted to link this story for anyone who never got to read it. I also made some corrections and changes in this version).

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31558172

“No no no no please rethink this ba!” Raya is currently following the chief of heart through the halls of the palace. The chief, benja, is busy planning on the upcoming summer festival, and doesn’t have time for Raya’s whining- again. He’s busy emailing the chiefs of other lands about things like food, and entertainment ideas.

“Dewdrop, what’s the big deal? Is it so hard to volunteer at the beach?” Benja complains as he turns around, with the glow of the phone screen shining on his face.

“Um- Yeah! Whenever I volunteer at the beach, Namaari and her fang posse are ALWAYS there, causing havoc and being loud, and they don’t give a damn!” Raya shouts. The staff of heart are looking over at this father-daughter quarrel, noticing Raya’s raise in tone.

“Dewdrop, I understand that Namaari has the tendency to be...rambunctious, but it’s for the community? What if you save someone from drowning! Think about that and not Namaari, eh?” Benja pats the side of Raya’s shoulder and walks over to Tao, the head of the heart land cook team to talk about dinner plans for the festival. Raya starts to walk after him but stops and pouts to her self.

“You good?” Sisu questions. She came from the kitchen with a bowl of spicy shrimp congee

“No- far from that. Ba’s making me volunteer at the beach.” Raya sulks in the chair behind her and rests her chin on her hand.

“Why do you sound sad? That’s a good thing! Beach’s are fun, and- beachy!” Sisu exclaims, taking a sip from her congee.

“There not super “beachy” when the person I despise most is there- Namaari.” Raya pouts and crosses her arms.

“Sure- “despise”. I think you should go though. And I’ll come too! I’ll be your wing-women,” Sisu walks away with a wink and whispers the last part, but that doesn’t stop Raya from over hearing this jeering remark from the dragon. Sisu knows that Namaari and Raya have a love hate relationship- and the flirty banter they show when there together proves just that.

~*~*~*~*

“We’re here,” Raya parks her Jeep and opens the car door. She’s wearing a scarlet read swim suit with the words, “life guard” on the front and, “Raya” Imprinted on the back, both in bold white letters. She’s also wearing her iconic bamboo hat.

Sisu jumps out of the trunk of the car with pool noodles and water guns.

“Time to terrorize as many kids as I can find- catch ya later Raya!” Sisu dashes to the area of the beach with the most children, prancing like a goblin. Raya puts her hand on her hip and laughs, afterwards applying sunscreen to her nose.

Raya scans the sun lit beach- no Namaari. Was this Raya’s lucky day? A day of...peace and quiet? She silently celebrated, but still looked around to make sure her hopes were true.

She suddenly feels a tall presence arrive behind her. Her bamboo hat nearly falls off as she shrieks with terror.

“Boo!” Namaari shakes Raya’s shoulders from behind in attempts of scaring her- it worked. Raya turned around in a defense position, only to realize it was her rival.

“Namaari,” Raya spat with a mean look, taking a good look at the tall, muscular women.

“What’s dripping dep la?” Namaari says nostalgically. She new that Raya hated it when Namaari called her Dep la.

“I told you to stop calling me that, undercut,” Raya crosses her arms and smirks. Namaari rolls her eyes at the remark.

“Wheres your little posse of fang people?” Raya asked with attitude. Namaari thought this was cute.

“Didn’t show- and I didn’t want them too. I wanted a day all to my self. To get a good beach work out in.” Namaari winked as she tossed the dumbell in her hand up in the air effortlessly and caught it.

Raya sucked her lips and tried not to stare at namaari’s biceps, which was very, very hard for her.

“Volunteering again?” Namaari teased with an eye brow quirk as she looked Raya up and down.

“Yes- is that a problem little miss muscles?” Raya responded, quite embarrassed by how she admitted to the fact that she was looking at Namaari’s biceps. This made Namaari chuckle deeply.

“Not at all, princess. Besides,” she leaned in closer, “I kinda like seeing you in your cute little bathing suit.” She looked Raya up and down once more, smirked, and turned to head towards the beach.

Raya stood their with her face red and her arms still crossed and completely still, her feet hot from the asphalt.

~*~*~*~*~

Sisu came to meet Raya at her life gaurd chair after a while.

“Good news- found lots of kids to scare. Bad news- I think their mothers called the cops so I might have to split later on,” Sisu chuckled.

“Yeah. Uh huh.” Raya responded, only half listening because she was busy watching Namaari do high knees and bicep curls and sit ups. Hot. Hot. Hot- Was all Raya could think about. But she would never actually say that, ew.

Sisu soon noticed what Raya was so occupied by, and teased, “hmm...interesting. Namaari is super fine, huh?” Sisu said as a test.

“Yes ma’am,” Raya was practically frothing at the mouth, but snapped out of it when she fully thought about what Sisu had asked. “I-I MEAN NO! Of course she’s not! I mean sh-she’s okay looking, but I’ve seen WAY better than Namaari. Like, WAY.” Raya sat back in her chair with her arms crossed and lips pursed, still staring at Namaari helplessly.

“Oh yeah? Name ‘em,” Sisu interrogated, trying on Raya’s bamboo hat hat hat was nestled in the sand.

“No problem! There’s- um...uh...you know that one...guy..” Raya trails off as she stared at Namaari doing push ups. She shakes her head out of the trance.

“YOU CANT EVEN NAME ONE BYE-“ Sisu couldn’t help but laugh. Raya frowned with crossed arms and slumped.

“You know, I’ve seems that “one guy” tons of times...he’s not that bad looking if I’m honest.” Namaari is suddenly leaning on the right side of Raya’s chair, still doing bicep curls with the arm not on the chair.

“YOU- h-how much did you here..?” Raya felt like telling her off, but that wouldn’t do anything. When Raya was in private, she could think of all kinds of ways to tell Namaari off. But she can never apply that stuff when she sees her face to face.

“Not much...only the part where YOU couldn’t name anyone more attractive than ME.” Namaari smiled up at Raya from where she was at the bottom of the tall chair.

“Um, NO. That’s not what I was asked. I was asked to name someone BETTER than you, not attractive,” Raya climbed down from her chair and leaned against it, arching her back with both hands on her hips, looking up at the fang princess.

“Pfft- not what I heard but, puh-taytoe puh-tatoe right?” Namaari jeered. “You’d be a really good liar if your blushing didn’t always give you away Princess,” Namaari had a hand on the side of the chair, trapping Raya against it. Namaari caressed Raya’s hot face and used her index finger to raise her chin and smiled, “it’s cute though”. Namaari said with a smirk. That damn smirk.

Screw it, Raya thought. She grabbed namaari’s tank top with both hands and crashed her lips against hers. Namaari hummed with approval, one hand on Raya’s waist and the other in her hair. Sisu was on the side, jumping and silently squealing with happiness.

They kept this up for another 30 seconds or so. Raya was the first to break away from the kiss.

“I knew your lips were soft.” Namaari said all smiley as she backed away to return to her work out area. “Thanks for giving me a taste!” She shouted over her shoulder.

Raya was standing still with her lips pursed and her arms stiff to her side.

“Oh m-my spirits...I just did that.” Raya whispered aloud.

“UH- YEAH YOU DID!” Sisu hollered as she high fives the hand Raya was using just then to wave at Namaari nervously with a dorkish smile and giggle.

“But quit making that face. You’re starting to remind me of Marinette from MLB,” Sisu rolled her eyes and laughed.

“YESH NAMAARI LIKES ME TOOOOO!” Raya pumped her fists like a kid and yells a little too loud, causing the beach occupants near by to turn around, some even laugh. Raya’s knees turned in nervously.

“Can we please leave before I embarrass my self anymore?” Raya whines.

“Sure, lets get outta here lover girl, I’ll cover you for chief Benja.” Sisu grabs her arm.

[brighterthanghosts]

By Your Side

Word count: 3,474

Pairing: Taishiro

Read below the cut or here on ao3.

Summary: “Taichi-san, you spent years telling me to believe in myself. Either you would beat a dead horse or I’d finally conquer my insecurities. Personally, I’m glad it was the latter.”

Five times Koushiro and Taichi were being good to each other from childhood to adulthood. Rated T for zombie gorillas and Taichi's foul mouth.

5&6

“Taichi, be careful!” his mom called out. But Taichi had already taken off toward the monkey bars, leaving a trail through the pebbles that separated the swings from the jungle gym. The jungle gym was attached to a large fort-style playground set that was often the backdrop for Taichi’s adventures — today, he needed to escape a rampage of zombie gorillas, and the only way was to make it through the forest Tarzan-style.

He wasn’t tall enough to reach the monkey bars on his own, but he had learned that the big dome on the opening of the slide was the perfect height. He stuck his shoe between the slide and plastic log fort, balancing on the large bolt that held the slide in place. Hoisting himself up and over the edge of the dome. The monkey bars were about two feet away to the right, and all he’d need to do was jump. He better get going, too, because the zombie gorillas were headed this way.

Taking one look behind him, Taichi stood, like a hero in his own movie, and prepared himself. He only had one chance to do this. If he didn’t make it, the zombies would eat his brain and spread the zombie virus to the human race. Taichi couldn’t let that happen. With one breath and a battle cry, Taichi lept from the top of the slide, arm fully extended out to grasp at the monkey bars. He was going to make it. He knew it. Almost there.

His fingertips brushed the underside of one bar, and he recognized his mistake. The zombies won.

Crashing to the ground snapped Taichi from his fantasy. He’d landed on his hands and knees, now bruised and scraped, and he could feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as he sat on his butt and assessed the damage.

“Are you okay?”

Taichi looked up into deep, dark eyes that were filled with concern and a tinge of something else.

“Y-yeah. I just —” Taichi said, turning his palms outward and gesturing to the little red-haired boy, who was kneeling beside him.

“That looks like it hurts,” the boy said, reaching out to hold Taichi’s left wrist, turning his hand this way and that. “But you looked so cool! Like Super Sentai!” The boy looked up at him, then, wide-eyed and a smile full of admiration.

“Oh!” he said, like he’d forgotten something. He looked back to Taichi’s palm and pressed a small kiss right in the center. “My okaa-san said it helps the healing.”

“Th-thanks,” Taichi said, feeling his face heat up.

“Koushiro! It’s time to go home!” a woman yelled somewhere off to the left of where the two boys sat.

“Ah, that’s my okaa-san!” the boy said, scrambling to his feet. He bowed, then smiled and with a wave said, “I have to go now! I hope you feel better soon!”

Taichi sat there, watching the boy’s back become smaller as he ran toward his mom.

“Taichi?” his own mother called.

He looked back over his right shoulder.

“Oh, Taichi! Are you okay? Are you hurt?” his mother asked.

Taichi shook his head, looking back at his hand. “No, mom, I’m okay. I’ll be better in no time.”

9&10

“Koushiro! Pass!” He heard someone yell, but he was too overwhelmed by the two bodies blocking him. Koushiro was running toward the soccer net as quickly as his little legs would carry him. The two children to his right and left stood a whole head taller than him. He could hardly see as it was; his hair was sticking flat to his forehead, sweat beading down in tiny rivers that pooled in his eyes.

“Pass it!”

He saw a mass of hair whirlwind behind the kid to his right, and Koushiro prayed it was his teammate. He quickly stepped to the left, pulled his right leg back, and kicked the ball. He made contact, he was sure, but his feet got tangled somewhere along the way and he planted face-first into the pitch.

“Go, go, go, go!”

Koushiro lifted himself up just in time to see Taichi straight-kick the ball right past the goalie and into the net. He looked like a pro, with the sunset as his backdrop. Koushiro would bet his life that Taichi would one day be the best soccer player in Japan — better than even Kamamoto Kunishige. With a little more than 30 seconds to go before half time, Koushiro got to his feet and started trekking back to the bench. His chin hurt, and he could use a towel and some water.

“Oi, Koushiro!” Taichi was jogging his way, dimples framing his warm smile. “Hey man, great pass!”

“Ah, n-no, it was all you,” Koushiro said, looking at the ground. Peeking up at his teammate, he added, “You were amazing out there, Taichi-san.”

“No way! We never would have scored had you not ran the ball down the pitch,” Taichi said, reaching a hand out to ruffle Koushiro’s hair. “Honestly, you were awesome!”

Koushiro looked down again, his face suddenly warm. “Th-thank you, Taichi-san. That makes me very happy.”

Taichi slung an arm over Koushiro’s shoulders, pulling him into Taichi’s side. “C’mon, let’s get a bandaid for your chin. You’re going to look so cool. Coach said girls like battle scars.”

Koushiro heard what Taichi said, but his brain stopped working sometime around the word cool. Taichi thought he would look cool. And suddenly, Koushiro wanted nothing more.

11&12

It had been one year exactly since their adventure to the digital world, and Taichi was feeling a little nostalgic. School had been well enough, and Taichi kept himself busy with soccer and video games for most of the summer. Had it been a Saturday, Taichi wouldn’t have felt bad about spending the morning in bed. But it wasn’t Saturday, it was Tuesday, and his mom was expecting him to be alive by the time she got home.

Taichi rolled himself toward the edge of his bed, slowly extending a leg and an arm so he could lower himself to the floor. He lay like that for a while. He’s not really sure how long, but he heard footsteps in the hall and gentle knocking on the door — he must have dozed off again. At least he was out of bed.

“Onii-chan? I’m heading out now.” A pause, then, “Onii-chan?”

“Have fun,” Taichi called out to his sister. Hikari had adjusted to life without their digimon much better than he had, and he didn’t want to bring her mood down like that.

“Okay. Why don’t you invite someone over? Have some fun yourself!” Hikari was trying to encourage him, and honestly, Taichi doesn’t think it’s a bad idea.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“I’ll see you later, okay?” He can hear her footsteps retreating. Shortly after, he hears the door open and close. Taichi is officially alone.

Taichi stared at the ceiling, tracing patterns in the popcorn texture and thinking about the first time he met Koromon. The first time he evolved. The first time he understood the power of his courage. “Hey, that kind of looks like Ikakumon,” Taichi chuckles to himself. He’s probably imagining it. He could almost hear Koushiro telling him about how our brains are formidable and capable of filling in the gaps and playing tricks on us. He smiled and rolled onto his stomach, let out a groan, and picked himself off the ground.

***

Koushiro answered the phone after three rings. Taichi wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt nervous, like he was troubling the other boy or something. It was Koushiro. Koushiro, who showed up randomly at Taichi’s home just a couple months ago and helped his mom bake a cake. This is fine.

“Uh, Taichi-san?”

“Come over.” Taichi said, mentally smacking himself for being so blunt. “Please?” He adds before Koushiro can respond.

“Okay, Taichi-san. I’ll be there shortly.” And it sounded like Koushiro was smiling.

When he said shortly, he wasn’t kidding. It was maybe 25 minutes later when Taichi heard knocking at the door. They’d spent the last hour eating snacks and playing Mortal Kombat, and Taichi was becoming increasingly more irritated for the following two reasons: 1) Koushiro had gone through six glasses of Oolong tea and had already taken two bathroom breaks and 2) despite this, Koushiro was still kicking his ass. They were 12-3 with Koushiro in the lead, and Taichi had already decided that Koushiro was clearly cheating. To prove his point, Taichi had the boy pinned to the floor in a bout of tickle tortue.

“I’m not cheating, Taichi-san!” Koushiro said through giggles, accidentally kneeing Taichi in the stomach.

“Well, if you’re not a cheater, then you’re a magician, and that’s still cheating!” Taichi replied, poking his fingers into Koushiro’s sides.  

“Me cheating is about as possible as Agumon being a real dinosaur!” Koushiro laughed. And suddenly, he wasn’t laughing.

“Taichi-san?”

Taichi’s face felt hot and wet, but he doesn’t remember how it got that way. Koushiro was looking up at him, concerned and a little scared. He didn’t want to look weak in front of his friend. He felt so weak.

“Taichi-san,” Koushiro said, softer, and Taichi lowered his head to rest on the boy’s shoulder, hiding his hurt in this pocket of trust. He felt a hand on his back as a sob wracked up his spine and out his throat. “It’s okay, Taichi-san. I miss them, too.”

17&18

“Who does Yamato think he is? Saying that kind of thing all cool and nonchalant. He should have known that Sora wouldn’t take it well. Oi, Koushiro, are you listening to me?”

He wasn’t. His heart was in his ears as he stared at his phone.

“Yo.”

He’d never felt so many emotions at once. But this really shouldn’t have surprised him.

“Koushiro. What’s so damn interesting that you can’t put your phone down?”

His phone was pulled right from his hands, and he did nothing to stop it.

“Oh.”

He’d laugh, but he wasn’t sure it would sound much like a laugh at all.

“Oh, Koushiro. Hey, man. That —”

“N-no, it’s fine,” Koushiro mumbles out. His voice is low, breathy, almost inaudible, and it sounds foreign to his own ears.

“No, it’s not. Dude, like, she could have at least said something.”

Except, she didn’t need to. Mimi returned to America shortly after Christmas, following their final battle with Ordinemon. Koushiro had never worked up the courage to properly confess his feelings, and Mimi didn’t owe him any kind of explanation for the photo she uploaded to her social media, captioned “So thankful to be in love with this guy.” She was kissing him on the cheek. They looked happy.

“She looks happy. I’m happy for her.”

And he was. Truly.

“That doesn’t mean your feelings don’t matter!”

“Taichi-san, really. It’s fine.”

“Clearly it isn’t.”

A hand cupped his cheek, thumb swiping just under his eye. Taichi is looking at him like he’s proving a point.

“We wouldn’t have worked out anyway.”

“Why not?”

He could hear tints of frustration in Taichi’s voice. He flinched a little at the words; that tone was usually reserved for Yamato. Koushiro decided to choose his words carefully. The last thing he wanted was to lose Mimi and Taichi in one sitting.

“Ah, I, um — I don’t think I’m bold enough to stand at Mimi-san’s side.”

“That’s bullshit.”

He flinched again.

“Do you ever say nice things about yourself? Don’t you see how amazing you already are?”

Koushiro looked up, meeting Taichi’s eyes for the first time since he’d unlocked his phone.

“Amazing?”

“Duh. Koushiro, you’re like the most incredible person I know.”

But Koushiro didn’t really believe him. Taichi was being nice because Taichi was a good person. Taichi was a good friend. Taichi was the amazing one. Tall and strong. Fearless. A natural leader — our leader.

“Don’t look at me like that. Like you think I’m being ‘illogical.’ I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You’re amazing. You are literally the reason we weren’t all killed in the digital world. You have your own office. You were the one who figured out that Meicoomon had backups of our digimon’s memories. You’re creating portals for us to travel between worlds. Portals, Kou. You’re so fucking smart, I don’t even know where you come up with all your ideas. And you turn every idea into a reality. You might think that isn’t significant, but I do. Mimi is missing out. Everyone is missing out on—”

Kou. Koushiro has never been particularly spontaneous. He was usually calculated and found reasons to justify his actions. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. Taichi and his kind words had pushed Koushiro to some kind of breaking point. The trust. The safety. The idea that someone thought so highly of him and this sudden need to protect it all. You’re amazing. He had subconsciously leaned forward toward his friend, as if their physical proximity could solidify this moment, like maybe Koushiro could really become one with all the lovely things Taichi was saying. He felt drunk on his heartbreak and sudden excitement. So fucking smart. Taichi’s words itched their way under his nails and made his fingers twitch. His blood was made of fire, his heart a bass drum, his brain alphabet soup — the letters spelling out ‘significant.’ This whole situation was illogical. Maybe Koushiro, too, was illogical.

Taichi didn’t move, didn’t push him away. Five seconds, their meeting lasted. Koushiro pulled away, the world crashing down on him as he realized what he’d done. He braved a peek at Taichi’s face — he looked different. Eyes glazed, looking past Koushiro. Mouth slightly open, jaw slacked. Koushiro took this moment to panic.

“T- ah, Taichi-san?”

“Huh?”

“Um.”

“Oh. Hey. I’m hungry. Want to grab a bite?”

“Uh?”

“I’ll treat today, so don’t worry.”

Taichi stood, grabbing his duffle bag and his wallet, looking back toward Koushiro, past him, again. His face said I need to get out of this room. Koushiro stood slowly, not making eye contact. He packed his laptop in his bag and decidedly ignored his phone, still unlocked and glowing with Mimi and her new boyfriend.

“I know I said I’ll treat, but I don’t have a lot of money. Are burgers okay?”

“Yes, that’s okay.”

“Cool.”

23&24

Taichi let out a yawn and scratched the back of head. He was thankful for this Friday evening, much welcomed after the long week. Taichi had been meeting regularly with Koushiro and his team to finalize their presentation on the digital world. They were finally making headway with the Tokyo Metropolitan Assembly to get safety regulations passed to ensure secure travel to and from the digital world, which meant a foot in the door to (hopefully) his future boss and a potential research grant for Koushiro’s team.

Koushiro had texted him earlier in the day, suggesting dinner to celebrate their hard work. Taichi suggested pizza, Koushiro suggested Odaiba beach. Taichi was a bit surprised — it would be about an hour to get there from the city — but Odaiba did hold nearly all of their memories.

He smelled him before he saw him. Well, he smelled the pizza. Taichi turned to find Koushiro approaching his makeshift picnic space in the sand.

“Taichi-san!” Koushiro said, picking up speed.

“Hey,” Taichi responded smoothly. “You seem awfully excited. You didn’t miss me, did you?”

Koushiro let out a huff, but smiled anyway. “We worked hard this week! I added some finishing touches this afternoon and sent it to Nishi-san for proofreading. It should be ready to go early next week!”

Taichi wanted to say how appreciative he was, but his stomach rudely interrupted. Koushiro let out a laugh and handed over the pizza box.

They sat in silence for a while, making their way through their food and enjoying the breeze coming off the ocean. At some point, Koushiro had removed his socks and shoes and buried his feet in the sand. It had been a long time since either of them had been to the beach.

“You know, I thought about bringing Tentomon here to say goodbye.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. I was trying to think of something special to do. But I was too busy with work to get down here in time.”

“I took Agumon to watch the ocean. What did you end up doing?”

“I locked my office door and hugged him as tightly as I could.”

“How did he take it?”

“He knew what was happening. It didn’t matter where we were as long as we could properly say goodbye. I think he was happy with that.”

“Do you think we could ever, you know, regain our bonds?”

“I’m not sure. But I hope that, if we obtain this grant, we can proceed to research the digital world for traces of their data. If I’m being honest, I’m not convinced that our digimon are gone.”

“Hearing that from you gives me a lot of hope.”

Koushiro doesn’t respond. Taichi looks at him then, and he looks serene. Relaxed. Hopeful. It’s rare for Koushiro to display his quiet confidence. But if anyone can figure it out, Taichi trusts that his friend will.

“Taichi-san?”

“Hm?”

“You’re staring.”

“Ah, sorry! It’s just. You look confident.”

“Oh,” Koushiro said, high-pitched in surprise. “Hm. I suppose I can thank you for that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Taichi-san, you spent years telling me to believe in myself. Either you would beat a dead horse or I’d finally conquer my insecurities. Personally, I’m glad it was the latter.”

Koushiro looked back to the water, the air between them filled with something strange and familiar.

“Hey, Kou?”

“Hm?”

“Remember that time in high school when you kissed me?”

Koushiro sputters, face reddened like a radish bathed in sunset. “Why on Earth—”

“Why did you do it?”

“Um,” Koushiro drawls like he’s not sure how to answer. “Well.”

Taichi waits patiently, but he’s never been a particularly patient person.

“I don’t quite know, if I’m honest. I didn’t realize it was happening until it happened.”

“Hm.”

“Uhh. I remember being upset. And you made me feel better. My thoughts were blurry at that time. Ehh. I, um. I think I, maybe, I wanted to be the words you were saying?”

“What do you mean?”

“Mmm. You said I should see myself through your eyes. You ambushed me with compliment after compliment. And it took me by surprise because you were always someone I admired. I wanted to believe I was all the words you used to describe me. I wanted to believe I was worthy.”

“You are, though. I hope you believe that now.”

Koushiro isn’t looking at him, and Taichi doesn’t think he’s going to say anything else, so he continues.

“It’s the same, you know. For me.”

This caught the other boy’s attention, but Taichi cut off whatever Koushiro was going to say.

“I wanted to believe I was as cool as you thought I was,” Taichi said, huffing out a chuckle. “I wanted to stand by your side and be someone you could count on. I also wanted to believe I was worthy.”

“Do you? Believe, I mean.”

“Yeah, I do.”

Silence lies between them, but it’s no longer heavy. Koushiro’s twitching slightly, gazing out toward the water, but Taichi can tell his mind is somewhere distant. He hopes Koushiro is thinking the same thing.

“Hey, Kou?”

“Yeah?” Koushiro breathes back at him.

“Can I kiss you?”

***************************************************

A/N

And that’s it. That’s the end.

This was a wild ride that all started with the concept of kisses to fix booboos — a trope I need.

Some minor notes:

-This is loosely based around Adventure, 02 and tri., but I chose to ignore the movies (ie: Children’s War Game).

-Super Sentai is what the US’ “Power Rangers” is based on.

-Kamamoto Kunishige is one of the most prolific soccer players from Japan and is the all-time goal scorer in his country. He played for Japan’s national team throughout the ‘60s and ‘70s, and it’s my headcanon that Koushiro only knows his name because Taichi doesn’t shut up about him.

-I know Taichi works with the UN in the epilogue, but I wanted him to be just a couple years out of college here, so I filled in the gaps. Because Koushiro has already made a name for himself in the tech world (and with the knowledge that his work involves researching the digital world later), I thought it would be interesting for them to work together with common goals. That said, I have no idea what Taichi’s career path would look like, so bear with me.

[chiwoopsie]

it's okay don't apologize <3 oh but you will teach classes in person !! 😯 it won't be online?? that's so fun, it's a good thing !! at least in my opinion since, as a student, i missed out on a lot because the classes are online lol I'M ROOTING FOR YOU I KNOW YOU'LL DO WELL 💕💗💞

ahhh yes i feel that!! i like sun because i feel motivated and am in a better mood overall but still i hate hot weather 🥲 and unlike in your case, here where i am, this has been the hottest summer in forever 😅 we're on fire right now so i've been barely surviving and would change with you any day !!!!

4) honesty right now i feel like visiting some islands anywhere in the world, i feel like going to a desert island with a friend or two and just.... chill... and live that life for a month 😭 and then when i come back home it'll be fall so 😌 yeah!!

12) the scent of spf cream 😭😭😭😭 it always reminds me of beach/pool/sea = summer

13) not a comeback!!! or well, not a title track but the did promote this one too, our dawn is hotter than day is probably my favorite summer song ever !! i just love the summer night vibe it has (since the only thing i like about summer, other than vacation, is the summer night 😭)

26) i don't think i'm ever nostalgic about summer tho 😭 maybe when i come home from vacation and idk i want to go back?? is that good enough? ksgsjshsjs

29) well hmm i usually don't need anything specific to lift my mood since i'm very jumpy and excited on my own 😭 but i'm trying to think of a summer specific answer and the best thing that comes to mind is ice cream !! eating ice cream makes me happy <3 i love ice cream 🥰 OR MUSIC FESTIVALS !!! i just love concerts and music festivals or any festivals in general i LOOOVE that a lot and i try to visit as much festivals as possible

ok my questions for you!!

3) What’s a summer tradition you have?

4) If you could travel to any place in the world right now, where would it be?

13) What has been your favorite Seventeen summer comeback?

19) What is a common summer activity that you have never done?

25) What’s your go-to outfit for the summer?

the event is coming to an end soon and i am excited to reveal myself and shower you with cute pics <3

- 💎

tysm for the kind words of support - its been rough ngl (especially since we are transitioning to completely in person 😔) so i greatly appreciate it 💞💞

oh no your area is burning up?? stay safe (at least as much as you can) and drink lots of water!! i def would rather be cold than hot too but its all about moderation and balance i guess

I love how you just wanna go somewhere to escape summer lol and then fastforward to fall 😂😂

3) A summer tradition my family used to have was going on vacation! I've been lucky enough to travel every summer since I was a kid until the pandemic hit and my travel bug is itching right now bc I wanna see something else for a couple days thats not my neighborhood 😅

4) Ohhh theres so many places I want to travel..I want to go visit my college friends bc I havent seen some of them irl in years and I miss them 💔 maybe go back to my college town and/or visit where they live now. Also, New Zealand :D

13) HM i think it has to be left and right! It was the right amount of fresh fun and cool 😎 I do prefer YMMD as a summer album over Henggarae (maybe bc I have the ymmd album and listen to it more lmao) but HOLIDAY! MOONWALKER! ❤️❤️

19) a common summer activity i've never done...summer fling lol no uhhh maybe a picnic? like the "lets pack a picnic basket and spread a blanket out by the river/park and chill" type of picnic. i was hella close to that ideal when i was in france but my family was not up to it :(

25) OK depends on if its sunny or not outside LOL if it is hot: denim shorts, loose fitting tee, fake leather flip flops 👡 If it's cooler, then gray cropped travel trousers, plain tee, white sneakers 👟👟

[god-fucking-dammit-mizutani]

The guy goes for more cranberry juice and Koushirou notices, "No spirits?"

He laughs. "Not today." He rubs at his rich brown hair. "Took the short straw today and got saddled as the D.D."

"Pardon?"

"Designated driver," he laughs. The guy’s eyes lock onto Koushirou's neck and he looks down, too, only just remembering the gaudy lanyard. His cheeks feel even hotter, especially as the guy reaches forward and plucks the fluffy pink strap up into the air. He rubs it for a second and quirks an eyebrow.

Koushirou just wants to spend as much time with his best friend, Mimi, as he can this summer even if it means spending half of it carting her around to party after party. Falling for the hot guy who seems to keep cropping up at all said parties? Not in the plans. (But also not not in the plans).

“Miyako invited a lot of people,” Mimi informs him part way into the ride. The flat of one of her heels clicks on the carpeted floor, and Koushirou doesn’t know if she’s excited or intimidated. “It might end up being like a mini high school reunion,” she continues. 

Koushirou meets her eyes briefly before returning back to the road. There’s nothing this far out except trees and fences. He wonders the logistics of deciding to move so far away from the city that not even street lamps will accompany them home.

Mimi touches his arm gently, and he can see in his peripherals that she’s still watching him. “You remember Jyou, right?” Her tone sounds higher now, and Koushirou decides that she must be, on some level, excited. 

“Of course,” he says. A sign says they’re passing a golf course, but Koushirou doesn’t know what the speed limit out here is and, well, one of those is more important. “I haven’t seen him since graduation.”

“Me neither!” Mimi squeals. “I didn't even know he was back in Japan! But Miyako said he RSVP’d.” She puts a hand over her heart as if she’s making a pledge and Koushirou can only quirk a half smile before looking fully at the road. “Which you know means he’ll be there. Jyou never says he’s coming and doesn’t come, right? Right!” 

“Indubitably,” Koushirou adds in, unnecessarily. He checks the GPS on his phone, mounted on the drink tray and resting back against the car’s stereo system. He’s surprised the satellites are still connecting out here, but they’ve hit under the mile mark left on their journey so Koushirou reminds Mimi to keep her eyes out for the balloon assortment Miyako assured them in her invitation would be present to greet them. Instead, Mimi shakes his arm again. 

“Oh my God, wait! What was the thing he liked again? Star Treks? Or the Star Wars?” Koushirou looks at her just as they come up on a stop sign to see her wrinkle up her nose. “It had the green person who talked all funny. What was it again? Yodels?”

Koushirou titters. He’s lucky enough there’s not a line up behind them by the time he pulls his foot off the break and continues straight on. 

“God, after this week I need a shot,” Mimi moans, “once we’re inside.”

“First order of business?”

Mimi laughs. “Indubitably.” A moment later she smacks at his arm, the same bubble of energy that had tempered returning to the surface as she points to a grouping of balloons not too far from them. “Right there, Koushirou!” 

He takes the turn as easy as he can. Miyako’s driveway is, thankfully, long and accommodating for the build up of cars having already arrived before them. Some have taken to parking up fully on the lawn, but Koushirou settles for just pulling up a little off the gravel road. Mimi’s already popping open the passenger door and shucking off her heels for the inevitable walk across the grass and dirt, and he can already hear her complaining about how unfortunate it was to get a pedicure before all this. Koushirou kills the engine and waits for a moment. 

When she looks back at him, Koushirou thinks to say, “Don’t talk about the  Star Treks , Mimi.” He has to train his face to stay straight when she pulls an exaggerated pout at him and continues with, “But if it does come up, just remember to make this noise.” 

Koushirou throws back his head and lets out a gargled yowl in mimic of Chewbacca. It’s a poor imitation, he knows, but he’s honestly impressed with himself that he doesn’t double over in laughter during his show. Mimi’s lips are puckered to one side, her face very clearly showing  she isn’t as impressed. 

“Trust me,” he pushes on, keeping his lips tightly together to keep from laughing between words, “people will find it endearing.” 

“I’m already endearing,” Mimi sniffs. 

And well, “Of course you are,” Koushriou agrees. 

“Let’s go get me that shot.” Mimi smiles at him now and pulls herself out of the car, letting the passenger door slam shut. Koushirou follows suit, making sure to lock up the pink Maserati. Out of habit, he hands Mimi  back the lanyard of keys. 

Miyako is a receptive hostess from the moment she opens the door, ushering them up the main stairs after accepting their gift of the wine they’d picked up on the way over. Koushirou wonders if Jyou’s already here, and if he’s already given Miyako the lecture on buying one story homes.

“It's better for your knees!” Jyou would always tout when the subject came up. And sometimes when it didn’t. It is odd now, to feel nostalgic for it, when mostly they’d been wasting lunch hours together in the library. Koushirou wonders if Jyou will sit with him for the party, or if the years had ebbed away at his social anxieties.

Mimi, no doubt, will be the life of the party, easily inserting herself in and out of groups as she pleases. 

“Drinks are on the balcony,” he hears Miyako relay. Mimi bounces exuberantly behind her and Koushirou follows on their rear. 

Some of his shared co-workers with Miyako are already huddled together on the couch, fitting more than the recommended amount of occupants, Koushirou assumes. It makes him think of pack animals, a vain attempt to survive in an uncertain world. Koushirou just worries, because there doesn’t look to be much more furniture to sit on. He makes sure to give them a nod of acknowledgment whenever he meets one of their eyes on his way past. 

Miyako points out important information on their way, such as the downstairs bathroom and the kitchen. On the back deck Mimi rushes straight to the folding table transformed into a bar and quickly fills a shot worth of liquor into a cup, handing it off to Miyako before making another one for herself. Koushirou hurriedly fills one of the solo cups for himself with the only mixer available— the cranberry juice he'd specifically chosen at the market on more than a hunch that it’d be the only alternative to water and booze all night. It tastes tart all the way down, but Koushirou continues sipping on it anyway. 

“Congratulations,” he tells Miyako who beams back at him. Mimi whoops and the three of them share in a toast.

“It’s very lovely,” Mimi tacks on, wincing after tipping her whole shot back. “I can’t believe this back yard.”

Koushirou snorts. It is very much like Mimi, who’s backyard could fit a helicopter pad or two between the olympic sized pool with room to spare, to sound absolutely sincere.

But it is actually lovely, Koushirou has to admit. He leans against the banister and Mimi slides up to occupy the space beside him, warm and electric as her presence always is. Koushirou takes in a breath of fresh air and for a moment he can understand why Miyako would choose such an out of the way place. The yard itself is expansive, running right into a forest. A few party-goers have already made their way down to the yard, dotting the lawn with their beers in hand. A small fire is lit in one those pits Koushriou’s seen at the local hardware store, kitchen chairs set up dangerously close to the edge of it for people to sit on. 

“I might put in a pool one day,” Miyako tells them. She points at an open patch of grass and Koushirou can imagine it. "I can have a big family here," she sighs, dreamily. "One day."

“Sounds perfect,” Mimi breathes out. 

"Oh!" Miyako exclaims a minute later, hand grabbing for Mimi’s from the railing, "let me show you the closet! It's walk-in!" 

Mimi, who has  several , bounces behind her enthusiastically. She twirls on her heels at the door and comes bounding back towards Koushirou. "Before I forget," is all the warning he gets before she showers him in metal and pink— her gaudy key lanyard now sitting on his neck. Mimi winks at him. "Always looks so good on you!" 

Kouhsirou rolls his eyes. "Just go," he groans. Mimi giggles and does exactly that. 

He takes in a shaky breath the second the sliding door closes behind her heels. Barbeque wafts up from below, and Koushirou wonders if they'll be having hot dogs or skewers for dinner and he'll be able to stomach either option. 

He settles up against the banister to watch the yard below, the lanyard jingling whenever he moves. He doesn't mind the weight of it, the responsibility tethered quite literally to his neck. Koushirou just wishes Mimi's taste was less gaudy. He makes sure to grab the cranberry juice to sit with him on the ledge for now.  Just in case.

Koushirou spends a good portion of the early evening just watching the sky, already drenched in a relaxing rose-lavender shade, ignoring the people only stopping by for their drinks or dropping off another bottle of  something . Koushirou keeps his ears peeled only for Jyou, or perhaps a co-worker who might pull him into their comfortable cocoon. 

It's still bright enough out, yet the flood lights pop on just below the deck. Some of the drunk people below cheer. Koushirou lets out a soft chuckle. It's enough of a distraction that he's caught quite off guard when the sliding door clicks open with a loud, "Don't get too drunk, Hikari!"

"I'll be fine," a feminine voice monotones back. 

"Okay," the male says in a way that suggests he doesn't believe it actually will be.

Koushirou keeps his eyes trained on the fire pit below, watches through several silhouettes as it pops and fizzles. He wonders if he should find a spot at the fire and pretend to be drunkenly fascinated with it so people won't assume he's completely weird. Koushirou's body temperature had always run on the colder side, anyhow, and he thinks the light jacket he'd brought along might not be enough after all.

"But if you puke on mom's shoes again, I am not covering for you." 

Or maybe Koushirou could run back home and grab the laptop he promised Mimi he wouldn't bring, then find a comfortable corner to work in.

Koushirou hears the pop of a cap as one of them pours something to drink. The girl makes a scoffing sound in her throat. There's a pause before Koushirou hears the hissing of more liquid dropping into a cup. "I'll be fine, Taichi." 

"Sure," he says, sounding still very  unsure . "Just know I can't explain to mom why the cat's vomit smells like liquor again."

Koushirou breathes in, a vain attempt to keep from snorting out a laugh. If anything slips through, he thinks the girl's giggle is loud enough to cover it. 

"I'm going to give Takeru his drink now," she says and the door slides back closed. 

Koushiro lets out a sigh. 

"I see you’re hogging the good stuff," the same male voice says much too close and Koushirou jumps. The guy taps the jug of cranberry juice next to Koushirou. "Can I steal some from you?" 

Koushirou stares.

The guy smiles at him and lifts up his empty glass. Koushirou fills it, returning a less easy smile back. 

And that should be it, the end of their story, but the guy takes a long sip, smacks his tongue loudly and asks, "So how do you know Miyako?" After another sip he adds, "Aside from the fact that Miyako knows everyone." 

Koushirou takes a precautionary look behind him, just in case there's someone else there that this man could possibly be conversing with. The only thing behind him is an unoccupied hummingbird feeder. 

"We work together," Koushirou answers finally. "But we were also friends in high school." Sheepishly he adds, "We were in computer club together." 

He takes his own sip of juice, tipping it back. He has to refill his glass. The guy, kindly, holds Koushirou's cup when he needs two hands to hold up the carton. 

"Miyako's more of my little sister's best friend," his companion supplies when Koushirou doesn't ask. His cheeks heat up. Decorum was never his strong suit. "But you know her. She's very…" 

"Affable," Koushirou says with a nod. The guy grins back and it is a lovely smile. Koushirou looks down in the red well of liquid in his cup. 

"Right. So I guess she kind of just made herself one of my friends, too." 

The guy goes for more cranberry juice and Koushirou notices, "No spirits?" 

He laughs. "Not today." He rubs at his rich brown hair. "Took the short straw today and got saddled as the D.D."

"Pardon?"

"Designated driver," he laughs. The guy's eyes lock onto Koushirou's neck and he looks down, too, only just remembering the gaudy lanyard. His cheeks feel even hotter, especially as the guy reaches forward and plucks the fluffy pink strap up into the air. He rubs it for a second and quirks an eyebrow. 

Koushirou grabs at the part just below his fingers and jingles the keys again. This earns him a grin. "I am also the D.D. tonight."

"Right on," the guy says and clicks his cup into Koushirou's. He has enough sense to take a sip, watching the stranger before him just over the rim of his solo cup. "I was honestly getting kind of worried that it was a feather boa and I missed the dress code." 

Koushirou snorts. "I supposed I wouldn't put it past Miyako."

"Right?" 

It is far past dusk before Koushirou realizes any time has passed between their ensuing small talk. Over his companion’s shoulder the sun has disappeared, leaving a trace of green and navy blue, surrendering a clear sky to the glow of stars that twinkle kindly in the eyes of the brunet before him. 

The guy places his cup on the railing and smiles at Koushirou. “I’ve got to hit the restroom, I’ll be back.”

He leaves Koushirou with a salute and slips back inside through the sliding door. Koushirou watches him tap someone’s shoulder, and after a few gestures the guy waves in gratitude and vanishes easily into the crowd. 

Koushirou breathes out. He knows more than anyone when people excuse themselves from conversations with him they don’t usually come back, so he deposits the cranberry juice onto the bar and follows the same path back inside. His group of coworkers have still grouped themselves together on the couch. The kitchen chairs are absent . Outside, Koushirou remembers. 

He plops himself down on the carpet, out of the way of the people mingling about in the open living room. He stretches out his legs and clicks the tops of his shoes together.  No place like home. 

Aside from one group, Koushirou doesn’t really know anyone else as far as he can see. He hopes Mimi comes by and finds him soon— that maybe they can leave— or Jyou will stumble upon him. Hopefully not literally. He takes out his phone to dwindle down the time until then, but it’s no use. Not even the data will load properly out here. 

Before he can pick himself up to ask Miyako for her wifi password a now familiar voice says, “There you are, buddy!” 

Koushirou blinks up at his companion from the deck, standing now in front of him with as gracious of a smile as he had the first time they spoke. He squats down beside Koushirou and plops the half empty jug of cranberry juice between them. He beams. “I think we deserve this.”

“Indubitably,” Koushirou says. 

“That’s a good word,” the guys laughs. He pours himself another drink and falls slowly onto his rump. He sheds his windbreaker and lets it sit between him and the wall, the jacket an almost offensive lime green color against the polished cream paint. 

Koushirou blinks again, not quite sure if he’s hallucinating the other's presence or not, but where their shoulders touch is warm and weighty and when the guy leans further into his space his hair tickles along Koushirou’s cheeks in a not so unpleasant way. “So which ones are yours?”

“Pardon?”

"Which kids are you babysitting?"

Koushirou scans every head littered about until he finally notices Mimi's bubble gum hair in a corner. "Over there," he gestures and notices, too, that Jyou has made it, the two of them immersed in their conversation by the far door frame. He thinks about waving for their attention, but decides better on it. 

 "Oh," his companion says. He points somewhere further off to the side and mentions, "Those two are some of mine." 

Across the room Koushirou spots an attractive couple quite distracted with one another, and winces. "It's like watching the mating patterns of cannibals."

Unexpectedly, his companion laughs. It's swallowed by the start of music, something heavy and loud that pulses in Kouhsirou's veins, dizzies up his anxiety further.

"High school sweethearts," the guy informs him, leaning in a little closer, speaking a little louder. "This only happens when they're drunk, I promise." He reaches for the cranberry juice and swishes around the last of its contents. "Bet I could drench them in this before they notice anything." 

Koushirou grins. "Better not. The males of that species are said to be particularly violent when provoked."

And the guy laughs. It is belly deep, and uproarious, and Koushirou cannot stop himself from joining in. 

When they settle down he thinks to ask, "So what does one do at a soiree when sober?" 

The guy moves his mouth about, looking pensive. "Collect blackmail?" 

"Too white collar." 

"We could dance? Start a trend and become heroes of the party?" 

Koushirou frowns. He purveys the living room. There's not enough open space to even entertain the idea. The last time Koushirou had danced in public was back in elementary school, when he had been cast as one of the background dancers for the school play. Rehearsals had gone well enough, but then opening night came and he swung his partner right into a fake tree and took down half the stage, screaming kids and decorations. 

As if sensing his hesitation his companion suggests, "Or we can people watch." 

"Sounds enthralling," Koushirou comments. 

"Oh it is," the guy grins. When he leans again Koushirou catches the faint scent of his cologne—something musky and earthy— just over the stench of alcohol and new carpets. He welcomes it. His companion points across the room, to a woman with a sheared bob. Koushirou thinks they're called a-lines, distinctly remembers Mimi crying about having to get one when they were twelve after the school bully spit gum in her hair. "Russian spy." 

Koushirou squints. The girl sways on her heels, nearing five inches in additional height if he's guessing correctly, missing the beat of the rhythm completely. The look in her eyes suggests she's a little bit too gone. 

"She's Japanese," Koushirou surmises and his companion titters. 

"No, no that's what she  wants you to think. She was brought up by international spies to infiltrate this country."

Koushirou stares. 

"You're supposed to make stuff up, you know?" His companion sniffs. "Like mini stories." 

"Oh." Koushirou breathes in. Imagination, is also, not one of his strong suits. "So she's not from Japan. Fictionally, speaking."

"Exactly." The guy grins. 

Koushirou's eyes fall back on the inexorable height of her heels and decides, "She stores all her gadgets in those shoes. Drives, fishing wire, cameras..."

"Holy shit, dude, your brilliant!" His companion beams at him. "Miyako knows everyone in the surrounding zipcodes, so the spy was hoping she'd be able to meet a prime minister or something here. Get access to his phone or laptop or something. But now she's too drunk on straight vodka and believes her own cover story." 

Koushirou hits head on the wall when he laughs. "You are aware she's only drunk on straight vodka because we stole the only mixer."  

The guy's face lights up, mouth gaping open like he's realized something important. "You know this means we single-handedly saved Japan with friggin' cranberry juice?" He holds up his fist towards Koushirou and it takes him much longer than he'd like to admit that he's looking for Koushirou to return it. Their fists meet in a short bump and the guy finishes it off with a soft explosion noise. 

Koushirou grins and shakes his head, turning his focus back on the main floor. Another girl catches his eyes with a similarly styled bob and so be points her out. "Think she's working with the spy?" 

The brunette laughs. "Definitely not. That's one of my kids. My little sister, actually." 

"I see." Koushirou feels his cheeks heat up. "The one who puts waste in people's shoes."

His companion laughs harder at that, his own head scraping back against the wall. "You heard that?" He finally manages to ask, wiping at his eyes. 

Koushirou doesn't know if he actually cried or not, but there's a smidgen of pride beaming in his chest for making this man laugh so deeply. He can't contain his own smile. "It was hard to not eavesdrop a little. I apologize." 

"Nah, buddy, it's fine. You'll be my witness if she tries to wheedle her way out." 

The brunet points out a group of people on the far end of the living room. "How about them?" 

Koushirou recognizes the gaggle of his co-workers, having now drunkenly abandoned their homebase to awkwardly dance in a corner out of the way. One of them, Zoe, has got her signature Staying Alive move going on. 

"Aliens," Koushirou decides. 

His companion guffaws halfway through a sip of his drink. Luckily none of the liquid drips past his chin. "Aliens?" 

"Absolutely," Koushirou asserts. "They've been studying mankind for decades now, but all of their research is outdated. See her?" He points out Zoe. "Learned that from American 70's dance programs." That part didn't really need imagination. She had told him that specifically once, at the annual christmas party. The first, and the last one, Koushirou had gone to. 

The brunet smiles tightly, in a way that reads like he's holding back something mirthful so Koushirou continues, "They see dancing as a human mating ritual, just waiting to capture the perfect specimen to entrap and take back to their planet tonight." He makes sure to catch the guy's eye before adding, in as serious of a tone he can muster, "Be careful on your way tonight." 

Koushirou takes a sip of his forgotten drink, mostly a ruse to hide the redness no doubtedly evident on his cheeks. He knows this is it, the line of  too weird , and he crossed it all too bravely. 

But the man doesn’t leave, and instead asks, “Where have you been all my drunkless nights?” 

Koushirou swallows and almost coughs on the tartness washing down his throat suddenly. “I’m sorry?” 

“Everything you say is like gold, man. I can’t compete with that.” 

“I just read a lot of science fiction… and some dissertations here and there,” Koushirou tells him discreetly. 

“Yeah?” The guy rolls his shoulders around, careful not to jostle Koushirou’s own too much. He looks settled in when he turns his full attention towards Koushirou. “Do you watch anything?” 

Koushirou doesn’t know how long they sit there, trading favorite movies and books, coming up with fake scenarios for their fellow party-goers whenever something springs to mind. He just feels that it’s far too early when the girl his companion had pointed out before comes to collect him, leaning down just enough infront of them and tucking her auburn hair behind a single ear. 

“Yamato’s not feeling well,” she says, contritely. She smiles apologetically at Koushirou and then turns back to her friend. “Do you think you could take him home now?” 

“Geez,” the guy says, huffing exasperatedly. He bounces easily to his feet and the woman follows him up, looking grateful. The brunet makes a round motion in the air with one of his fingers and tells her, “Let’s round up the troops.”

She thanks him quickly, gives Koushirou a little wave, and hurries back, presumably, to her boyfriend. 

The guy runs his hand through his hair for a moment and lets out a small hum. When he turns back on Koushirou, his face is  beaming. “Sorry, buddy, that’s my cue I guess. I’ll see you around?” 

Koushirou shoots him a smile. “I’m glad we got acquainted,” he says, and  means it, waving his companion off. He gives Koushirou a wave back, flashing a dimple-filled smile and disappearing into the crowd once more that night. 

Koushirou settles back up against the wall and breathes in. His stomach aches from far too much laughter, and quite possibly an excessive amount of cranberry juice. It feels like someone had been pinning up his lips for most of the party that his cheeks, too, ache now that his smile has subsided. 

Mimi finds him soon enough thereafter, a little wobbly on her feet, asking to go home and sleep. 

“You seemed to be getting along well with Jyou,” Koushirou mentions, remembering how they’d been huddled near each other for the majority of the party whenever he’d chance a look. Mimi laughs, but it’s a small little breath. Koushirou almost misses it over the ringing in his ears, the beat of the music still throbbing in his brain even now that they're in the comfort of Mimi's car.

Mimi leans over the divider, resting her head on his shoulder and Koushirou almost reminds her how dangerous it is to be touching the driver, but he lets the argument die on his tongue and keeps to watching the road much closer. 

“Jyou was talking about his time in America,” she tells him. Her breath this close smells sharply of liqueur and peppermint. “He’s going back, you know? To finish his studies to become a doctor. It’s a-maz-ing.” Her voice sounds sleepy, small, and Koushirou wonders if she’ll fall asleep like this, attached to his shoulder. 

“Yeah?”

“We were—” She yawns, and that, too, reeks of alcohol. It is still chilly out at night, but Koushirou cracks open the window just a tad. “We were talking about meeting up, when he moves back there.” 

Koushirou grips the steering wheel, keeps his eyes set ahead. 

“Who was,” Mimi starts. For a moment he thinks she really has fallen asleep, her sentence only half formed, before she finishes, “The guy.The one you were talking to all night?”

Koushirou checks his rearview mirror. Mimi’s eyes are closed in the reflection, but there’s a coy smile teasing on her lips. A few cars pass by them on the other side, headlights bright in Koushirou’s eyes. He has to watch the white lines to make sure he doesn’t veer off the path, mildly wracking his brain for a name. 

“I don’t know,” he finally answers. 

Mimi’s arms wrap around his forearms, hugging him tightly. She yawns again. The first sign of  real civilization crops up— the traffic light just before they cross into the thick of the city. Koushirou’s ready to sleep as well. 

“You were talking to him all night,” Mimi pushes. Out of habit Koushirou checks the clock. His stomach growls, having had nothing to eat. 

“I didn’t ask his name,” he cements. 

“Oh,” Mimi says, but it sounds like only the rush of wind. “That sucks.”

Koushirou swallows. “I suppose.”

"Maybe Miyako will know," she suggests.

Mimi’s already asleep when Koushirou pulls up to his own house. It takes some cajoling and tugging before she stands up on her own, legs wobbling like a baby deer up the stairs and finding his couch. Mimi doesn’t bother to change her clothes. Koushirou drapes the throw blanket over her. 

“Good night, Mimi,” Koushirou whispers and turns out the light. 

[insanitysscribblings]

Reyna Writes: An Unlikely Pair [UPDATE - 6/27/18]

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My need to write has been building up, so have another snippet of this pet project~

~Reyna

Usually, Zuko slept on his back. It was a force of habit: if his back was exposed, he was a sitting duck. And ducks who just sat idly had the unfortunate habit of winding up dead.

However, when he was having a particularly nasty nightmare, he couldn’t help his thrashing. So when he woke up, a hoarse scream tearing through his throat, it was to his surprise, relief, and consternation to find that he had flipped onto his stomach sometime during the night; his scream was lost to the down of his pillow, which was hopefully enough to keep it from reaching Katara’s ears through the very thin wall between their rooms.

Zuko sighed, pushing himself to sit up, grasping his dagger once again. It was a gift, one his uncle had given to him the day he enlisted in the military. The handle was made of pearl, with words of power etched into the steel: Never give up without a fight.

Zuko swallowed, carefully tracing his fingers over the inscription while his breathing slowed. It was okay. He was here. He hadn’t surrendered. He had fought to survive. It was okay...

With another sigh, he replaced the dagger under his pillow and slid out from under his sheets, parched. He should really get into the habit of keeping a pitcher of water next to his bed, but if he was being honest with himself (and he rarely was), he just needed a reason to get out of his room. If only for a few minutes, to chase the bad dreams away.

He received a surprise when he stepped out into the hallway: the TV in the living room was on. He paused, squinting against the blue glow that reached the hall. What in the world...?

The answer to his unfinished question came when he rounded the corner and found Katara curled up on the couch, in her pajamas and her messy bun, tired eyes shining with unshed tears in the glow of the television. Zuko paused, cringing when Katara noticed him and hastily hid her face, rubbing at her eyes. Why did he seem to always stumble upon her crying in the middle of the night? This was twice now, damn his luck.

“Oh, Zuko,” Katara muttered, and Zuko frowned at the note of false cheer in her tone as she turned back to him with a dry face and a too-bright smile. “What’re you...?” She trailed off, her eyes scrutinizing him. Slowly, her fake smile faded, and her eyebrows came together. “Bad dream?”

Zuko grimaced. And this was thrice now that she had caught him emotionally compromised after a nightmare. He didn’t know how to feel about being called out like this--when Sokka happened to catch him in his late night prowling, he never pried, but he did insist on reminiscing about “the good times” they had in boot camp, though if Zuko recalled correctly, those “good times” involved a lot of Sokka getting them in trouble with his backchat and sarcastic comments. Pain in the ass...

Zuko glanced away, looking for a way to change the subject. A laugh distracted him, and his eyes were drawn to the TV as a beautiful woman laughed brightly while two children splashed around in a kiddie pool.

He blinked. It was Katara--wait, no, the woman was a little too old to be Katara. And their noses weren’t the same, nor were the shape of their eyes...

Despite the minute differences, it wasn’t difficult to put it together: Zuko must be looking at Katara’s mother.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Katara shift uncomfortably.

“I...sh-she died around this time of year, when me and Sokka were kids.” Zuko hated to see the fresh tears prick Katara’s eyes, and so he looked away. “I was feeling nostalgic tonight, so--”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Katara,” he said gruffly, folding his arms defensively, as if they could protect him from this conversation. He wasn’t good with emotions, whether they were his or someone else’s, so this was pushing him way out of his comfort zone. Dimly, he recalled some moments over the years where Sokka would suddenly become sullen during the summer, and he suddenly felt ashamed that he had never thought to ask why. Some friend he was.

“I know,” Katara replied with a weak laugh. Zuko chanced a glance at her, finding her eyes on the screen once more. He spotted her phone clutched in between her hands, and a memory from earlier that evening came floating to the surface.

“Is that why you threw your phone earlier?” He blurted out before he could stop himself. His horror struck him acutely when Katara’s eyes suddenly flashed over to him. But it didn’t appear to be him she was angry with.

“No,” She spat with a scowl that, frankly, intimidated Zuko, even though he happened to be a soldier. “I was being harassed by Jet.”

Jet? As in a jet plane? No, wait, that didn’t make sense. Damn it, Zuko, wake up.

“My ex,” Katara clarified, appearing to notice Zuko’s confusion. His brows immediately furrowed for a different reason entirely.

“What do you mean, he’s harassing you?” He growled, feeling his gait stiffen. If Sokka was here, he’d be howling for blood right now. Honestly, Zuko wouldn’t blame him.

Katara peered at him, apparently sizing him up. When Zuko continued to scowl, her lips twitched in a suspicious manner, and she patted the spot next to her. Though he raised an eyebrow, Zuko did as she asked and took a seat.

“I guess ‘harassing’ is the wrong word,” she said softly, though her face looked mutinous as she unlocked her phone and went to her text messages. Quietly, she handed her phone over, something that surprised Zuko. Hesitantly, he took it, watching her out of the corner of his eye to see if this was really okay. She gave him a nod and a smile, and inwardly, he marveled. How could someone be so open like that? Like she had nothing to hide?

Zuko was careful to only glance at the most recent text messages, and there were a lot of them. The further he went down, the more he scowled.

Jet, Katara’s asshole ex who cheated on her, was basically demanding that Katara return to their shared apartment. Though Katara hadn’t bothered to respond to any of them, there were ‘apologies’ peppered in here and there, and assurances that he and whatever woman he had cheated with were through, but mostly, it was whining that Katara was giving up on them too quickly, and that Jet needed her.

Zuko made a disgusted noise. Selfishness. Manipulation. He had seen these tactics one too many times to mistake them for anything else.

“He’s harassing you,” Zuko confirmed, handing Katara’s phone back to her with a dark look. “You need to block his number.”

“I really should,” Katara mused, giving her phone one last irritated look before she huffed and set it down on the coffee table. “I...just need time.”

“He’s going to keep texting you until you answer if you let him.”

“I know. But...”

“You’re not seriously thinking about going back to him, are you?” Zuko demanded suddenly, sick at the very thought. Some part of him wasn’t quite sure why this was, but he shoved it aside. In living with Katara, he had come to know her as a kind, compassionate woman with a temper that rivaled his own if he pushed her to that point, but overall, she was someone who did not deserve to be guilted back into a terrible relationship by a shitty ex.

Katara blinked, her eyes wide and surprised, for some reason.

“Of course not,” she replied, her tone becoming withering. “How stupid do you think I am?”

“I don’t think you’re stupid at all,” Zuko said roughly, insulted by the insinuation. “Which is why I’d be disappointed if you made such a stupid decision.”

Katara blinked at him again. Zuko couldn’t understand her expression, but something in the way her eyes shone as she looked at him made him flush, and he looked away awkwardly.

“I mean,” he tried again, searching for a way to rephrase his rough words as he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “This guy--I don’t know him, but I’ve heard Sokka talk about him. It sounds like he was a giant man-baby, and you don’t need that. You shouldn’t be having to take care of someone you plan to marry--you should have someone who’ll be your partner, and who’ll treat you like an equal, not like his mom. I know you’re used to taking care of Sokka and everything, but it wouldn’t kill you to let him learn how to do things himself, and your jackass of an ex really shouldn’t have you waiting on him hand and foot. I guess...I’m just saying you deserve better. That’s all.”

He trailed off in a mumble, feeling his whole face turning red and cursing himself for it. What the hell was he embarrassed for?

A touch on his arm made him jump, and he turned to find Katara smiling at him, her eyes glowing.

“Thank you, Zuko,” she said softly. The blue of her eyes was so distracting; they looked almost inhuman in the glow of the television, as if she wasn’t actually human, but a spirit masquerading instead. A shiver went down Zuko’s back, and he could do nothing but nod, his throat suddenly constricted.

He needed to get out of here. He was steadily getting more and more confused on how to deal with her, and he needed air. Now.

As he stood up, excuses on the tip of his tongue, Katara suddenly gripped his wrist.

“Wait!”

Zuko paused, staring down at her in surprise. Katara seemed to grow embarrassed; she dropped her hand, and she glanced away, a finger curling through a loose strand of her thick hair.

“I-I just...I mean...could...could you stay? For just a little longer?” She asked, looking meeker than Zuko had ever seen her. When he continued to stare, a dark flush made its way into her brown skin. “I-it’s just that...well...with the movie we watched earlier and everything...”

She trailed off, but Zuko caught her meaning in an instant. As he snorted, her flush grew darker still.

“Don’t laugh!” She protested, but Zuko ignored her, chuckling as he grinned down at her.

“Scaredy cat,” he teased her once again, his amusement growing as she glared up at him. “What’s wrong, Katara? Don’t want the spooky ghosts to come and grab your ankles from under the couch?”

“You’re an ass,” Katara snapped at him, though sharp amusement danced across her features, even as she fought to keep her scowl. “Never mind, go back to bed. I hope the ghost kills you first.”

“No you don’t,” Zuko contradicted her, obligingly sinking back onto the couch next to her. “Who would protect you if I’m dead?”

“I’d just make my escape while it’s busy murdering you in your bed,” Katara said smartly, her nose in the air as she crossed her arms. Zuko snickered morbidly at that.

“You’d just leave me like that? That’s cold, Kuruk. Aren’t you studying to be a doctor?”

“And as a doctor, I’d know a lost cause when I saw one, Caldera,” she shot back at him, more than comfortable with dishing it out as she took it. She was spirited that way, Zuko had discovered; unafraid to stand up to him when he was being a jerk. While it used to annoy him, it was quickly becoming a part of her that was endearing to him. She reminded him a little of Azula, back when they were kids, and when things weren’t so...

To distract himself from the dark turn his thoughts were taking, he took up a pillow and shoved it against Katara, knocking her over onto the other side of the couch.

“Hey!” Katara protested, quickly snatching up a pillow to retaliate, and there was nothing but laughing, teasing, and banter for the rest of the night.

Zuko stirred slowly, reluctant to wake up. His internal clock was panicking; he was probably running late for work. That made him frown, and his hand reached for his nightstand, wondering why his alarm hadn’t gone off yet.

When his hand met nothing but air, his brows furrowed further. Where the fuck was his phone?

Zuko slit his eyes open.

There was a whole lot of brown hair in his face, a weight against him, and slow, even breathing that did not belong to him.

Zuko froze.

What the fuck was happening?

Had he brought home a girl? While the times that happened were few and far between, it was still known to happen. But why couldn’t he remember doing so? Did he drink himself into a stupor last night?

There was a shift, a small groan, and a yawn. And then the girl lifted her head, blinking bleary blue eyes at him.

It was Katara.

The instant Zuko recognized her, she froze, staring wide-eyed at him. Then, at the same time, they yelped and scrambled away from each other, ending up on opposite ends of the couch, staring at each other. As he gaped at her, Zuko rapidly bullied his brain into remembering what occurred last night, and how they had reached this point of all things:

They had been talking. Then they roughhoused. Then they talked some more, easing further and further into the couch as they did...

And then they must’ve fallen asleep. That was where Zuko’s memory ended.

Relief flooded him. Oh, thank the spirits. If they had done something unbelievably stupid last night, there was no way Sokka would’ve forgiven him.

Katara seemed to reach the same conclusion he had, for her shoulders relaxed, and he could see her letting out a breath, an awkward smile crossing her face.

“So...” she began.

“Yeah,” Zuko replied, clearing his throat. He rubbed a hand over his face, frowning slightly when his hand made contact with his scar.

Of course nothing had happened. There was no way.

“I have to get ready for work,” he grumbled, getting to his feet. Katara seemed to notice the change in his voice, but other than a slight tilt of her head, she said nothing, and just nodded.

“I should get ready for class,” she mused as well. Before she could get up, however, Zuko rushed into his room, snatched his towel, dashed across the hall, and slammed the bathroom door shut behind him in record time. Back in the living room, Katara huffed in irritation. “I do not take forever in the bathroom!”

“Yeah, right. And pigs don’t fly,” he replied dryly, smirking to himself when Katara growled curses at him, the sound of her voice trailing off as he heard her pad into the kitchen, presumably to start the coffee pot. Turning, he dropped his towel on top of the toilet cover before he shucked his pajama bottoms and boxers, turning on the shower.

Though he had to rush through his morning routine, he got to work just in time by some miracle, and even had a smile to offer Iroh when he encountered him.

“Morning, Uncle.”

“My my, good morning, my nephew,” Iroh replied, eyeing his nephew keenly as Zuko shrugged the strap of his briefcase higher onto his shoulder, intending to go to his office to handle the finances of his uncle’s import company. “What a smile. That is a rare occurrence. Did you manage to get a good night’s sleep last night?”

Zuko paused at that. As Iroh watched, interested, a hand came up to rub the back of Zuko’s suddenly flushed neck.

“I guess so,” was the only reply he offered before he was walking again, towards his office. Iroh smiled and drank deeply from his tea cup.

[in-the-bookish-dark]

Dark re Union - RL

There’s a tree in front of it now. There are trees all over, running up and down the street. Leaves in summer and life standing by in the winter, waiting for the next spring to come and to keep coming. I think I even saw a couple of shrubs behind a bus bench a block over.

I saw pictures of it before I saw it face to face. Google Earth is a handy thing. I got pictures all up and down Union Avenue, and all over Pueblo long before my feet touched sidewalk. Well, before they touched sidewalk again. It had been twenty years and it’s been fixed up, not just the street but the building itself. The ironwork was stripped and repainted and all the brickwork repointed. It’s a boutique now. Women’s things. Accessories, and some cute little books about … I don’t know, fucking rainbows or something. Sorry, it’s nice, and I even told them that when I went in, but … it’s not their fault they don’t know none of that belongs there.

I know it wasn’t, but there are times when I think that place – that whole street - might actually have been in black and white when I went there as a child. I remember it in black and white, at least, like some old, old movie that was way too old for me to be in. Like one of those quarter movies my sister and I would go up to the Uptown and see. Movie, popcorn and a soda for a quarter, like in olden times. At night, it became a different theater. They’d have the kids’ matinees in the afternoon, and then at night, they’d have X rated movies. Two separate realities. Mostly.

Back then, it wasn’t a fancy women’s boutique. It was a beer joint called Al’s Tap Room. They had pool tables, and other tables where old guys would play pinochle or dominos, and sometimes the odd chess game. There was no wine or hard liquor, just beer, and a cooler case where you could buy a Coke or Nehi for your kid if you brought one in. Old style neighborhood tap room where it isn’t unusual to see a guy bring his kid along, that’s the demographic. Was the demographic. These days, the vintage soft drink case, where you paid your dime and then navigated your bottle out of the little maze, would’ve gone for fifteen thousand dollars and would be stocked with wine or premixed artisanal cocktails or some such. They also made burgers and dogs, and you could have chips to go with, but again, that was back then. No burgers and dogs in the boutique.

There was a little pastry shop directly across the street. I could’ve crossed there. Traffic was light. I took my time, though to go down to the crosswalk, then back up the street to it. Given my luck, some overzealous cop would’ve arrested me for jaywalking, and that would’ve messed everything up. I took a little café table on the sidewalk and sat with coffee and a Danish. Back then, this place was a little appliance repair shop. All changed. I’d change too, if I’d seen what you saw, I said under my breath. To a building. I watched the front of the boutique. What I expected it to do, I don’t know. Something subliminal, maybe, a little flash like in horror movies where you see the killer’s face for a single frame.

I drank my coffee. It was heavy and sludgy, and left a bitter residue. I tried the Danish. It didn’t belong. Too sweet. Not like the calories were going to matter, but hey. I slid it off the plate and into the garbage and walked off down the block. I went south, toward the river and the bluffs. I was glad of the light jacket I’d brought. The temps were in the sixties, but I was cold. I’d been cold since I parked, and the coffee had done little to warm me.

When I got to the bridge, I considered continuing up the sidewalk to the library. It was just another couple of blocks, really. I thought about the day I’d "promoted" myself from the Children’s Collection downstairs to the main library above. I felt like I’d be nabbed at any moment by library cops, and forced back downstairs, away from all the power and danger of the grown up books. I’d slip through the stacks like I was looking for somebody, then I’d grab books and park in a back corner. I just decided one day that I was going to have all that grown-up power for myself. I think I was actually a little disappointed that nobody chased me away. I was nine and I had my bold, defiant speech all set, and never got to use it.

A nostalgic trip to the library would’ve just been a diversion, though, so I walked as far I needed to in order to see the water in the river - what water there was - and then turned back. When I was a kid going over the river to the library, that was a dizzying height, though it was probably no more than thirty feet. Still, it was a wide open, and I was afraid the slightest breeze might blow me off the bridge. No more.

It was only then I noticed music coming in from somewhere – had to have been over somewhere on the Riverwalk. I only caught bits of it, but it sounded Irish, even though St. Pat’s day had already come and gone. I had wondered if Al’s had been bulldozed to make way for part of the Riverwalk. I couldn’t remember exactly where it had been, but it – obviously – was still there, closer to the train station than to city hall.

I was stalling, still stalling. I’d been stalling since I’d parked, really. I’d been stalling since arriving in town the day before. Actually, I’d been stalling for years. But I was close now. Closer than I’d been in a long time.

I would have stayed up on the bridge who knows how long if I didn’t have to put up with the wind gusting around the bluffs, or the little individual gusts that accompanied each car coming down the hill.

I zipped my jacket and turned back. No more stalling.

It was time to go. I told myself, "Sure it’s a very nice place, and I’m sure the people who work there are very nice. It’s a shame, but it can’t be helped. Lotta things can’t be helped. They happen to you and you didn’t have anything to do with it."

My cell buzzed. I dragged it out of my coat pocket just in time to see the missed call. Angela again. Twice today. I sat at a bench at the end of the bridge and just texted her, "Sorry, in a workshop at the moment. Conference going great. Call you later. Xoxo"

Liar.

I figured she’d understand, though, when she got the email.

All the preliminaries out of the way, I returned to the building. It was a really nice boutique. There were several purses I thought Angela would really like. I wandered around for a while, making chit-chat. Weather, home towns, how hard it is to shop for a wife, only in town for the day … random stuff. I thought, "Hey, I can ring these things up first, arrange to have them shipped, and she’d get them" but I knew that was stupid. And she’d hate them and never wear them. Maybe from another place. Not here, not now.

I took a purse and a belt and some stockings up to the counter for appearances sake, then as I fished around in my pockets for my wallet, I just asked, casually, if I could use their restroom for a minute.

She pointed me back past the other side of a curtain. "Just straight back" she said. "Past the stairs, and just at the end on the right. It’s just one for everyone." she said. That was different. The "one for everyone" was the same, but the location wasn’t. It used to be at the back and down the stairs. You’d go through the store room then, and it would be right next to the furnace.

At least they wouldn’t get their one restroom messed up.

The stairs had been refurbished. They were nice and solid and quiet. The store room, old store room, was roomier. Less clutter, just a/c filters and such. Where the restroom used to be was a utility room. Reuse the water connection, sure.

I closed the door. There was no latch or lock, but that was fine. Why make it hard for them? I’d be done soon enough. I laid a little board across a mop bucket, one of those rolling kinds, then took off my coat. Probably wouldn’t make much of a mess.

It dawned on me at that point that I hadn’t really taken a breath since I stepped into the room. My pulse was pounding and I’d been pretty much holding my breath. The last thing I needed was to pass out and ruin everything.

Out there in the store room was where Felix had touched me the first time. Just a brush, really, like it was an accident. I didn’t want to make myself sound stupid by saying anything. A month or so later, two or three visits later, he starts talking to me, always down there when I’m coming out of the restroom. "Hey, I can tell the way you play chess, you’re a pretty smart kid – that’s a pretty mature playing style." Things like that. Yeah, I wanted to be smart and grown up, especially if it meant I was smarter than those old drunks up there. He seemed okay, too. Good personality, always interested, always asking questions and complimenting people, y’know? And he always had girls stopping by to see him, to bring him lunch and things like that. The old guys were always giving him a hard time about how many girlfriends he had, but they were also buying him beers for being a stud. Jealous, right?

His dad owned the place, and sometimes Felix would make me a cheeseburger just for the heck of it. Maybe a slopper, which made me feel great, ‘cause that’s how the coolest grownups in town ate their cheeseburgers.

All this was replaying in my head while I settled myself. I had a whole clonopin with my coffee and I was still struggling to get my breathing and pulse under control.

It was only after we were "buddies" that he started suggesting some games we could play while everyone else was playing "their stupid pool games." Everybody does it, he said, but they’re embarrassed, and they hate to talk about it, but it was cool just between the two of us. We just wouldn’t say.

A lot of times, we’d just sit down there and talk, always as I was leaving the restroom. Baseball, fishing, girls, whatever. I was only eight, but the stories he told about girls made me excited. Maybe it was just being trusted with "inside stories." Not all, though. He’d even show me pictures of girls he had sex with, some of them Polaroid pictures with their tops off. Not all. Most were snapshots safe enough to develop at the drug store.

After we’d talk, I’d go upstairs, and sometimes my dad would notice I’d been gone a while and I’d make up some story and he’d say "Ah, ok. Don’t wander off, though, pal" and he’d go back to his beer and pool.

Only one time, though, did Felix talk me into taking down my pants. It was a dare and I fell for it. With my pants around my ankles and my tighty whities on display, he walked over and said, "Tell me if this feels good. This is what a girl can do for you" and he cupped my penis through my shorts. I panicked a little, then I realized it was starting to grow and get hard, so then I panicked a lot. I fell backwards over a case of paper towels and scrambled to pull my pants back up.

I said "I gotta go up!" and started walking fast toward the stairs, and he got in my path.

"Hey, I’m sorry, David, I didn’t mean anything by it. Y’know? I was just showing you. Let’s forget it happened, right? No harm, no foul. Really, man, you were acting like you wanted to, and I was just going along."

I slipped past him, and just before I reached the door at the top of the stairs, he hollered up. "I’m not one of those guys. I like girls! Ask anybody."

I still don't know why I bothered, but I stopped and yelled back, "I know!" then went out.

Once I was in the back room, I just froze. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t say anything. It was just such a big mess, and maybe it was me, maybe I tricked him some way into thinking I wanted him to do that, and there was no way anyone was going to believe that Felix had touched a boy between the legs.

I went back out and just sat down where I’d been. He came up maybe a minute later, eyeballing me the whole time. It didn’t take him too long to figure out that I hadn’t said anything.

Dad and I went home a little while later.

The next time we came in, about a week later, Felix was out on vacation, his dad said. Fishing up around Estes Park, he thought. Said to say "hi" to me.

Now, I understand that he was getting some space, a running start, in case I decided to tell on him after my dad and I got home. If the next time he called home, his dad said "David’s father wants to kill you" he'd know not to come back. If his dad said, "David says hi back" he'd know he was in the clear.

He was there the next time we went in, and he was still watching me, but seemed relaxed. After that last time downstairs, though, I always made sure I’d gone to the restroom before we left the house.

Eventually, months passed and Felix and I were kind of buddies again and he was bringing me extra Cokes and a slopper every now and then, and everything was forgotten.

His girlfriends still came and went. I had always watched them because they were fun and attractive. I watched them even closer afterward, though, wondering what they knew and whether he ever did anything unusual with anyone but me.

Nothing, not as far as I could tell, anyway.

A whole year went by and the incident became just a strange little thing that happened. One of those "who knows what really happened" things inside your own head. One of those "I must’ve misunderstood" things that we all probably have.

I started using the restroom there again. It had been over a year, and everything was fine. Nothing happened. No more long chats in the basement.

Until the one time.

I was coming out of the restroom, and he was in the store room by the stairs.

"Hey, buddy." His face was saying something it had only said once before. I realized right then that the other time hadn’t been a misunderstanding, though everything since had been.

I’m not gonna … there’s no need to go into detail, and it was all a blur anyway, and it’s all too late. Way too late. He took a fistful of my collar, said "You and me, we’re gonna play a game" and made me go back into the restroom. The whole thing only took about ten minutes, and I never ever said anything to anyone. Not to a friend or a priest or my parents, or a girlfriend or therapists or anybody. In a way, not even to myself, even though sometimes I would have nightmares. Even then, it was something that was happening to another little boy and I was trying to stop Felix.

The reason I came down to the old restroom – the former rest room - though, the reason I sat myself down on the mop bucket and board, and the reason I decided to shoot myself, was that I’d found out almost a year ago and ages too late, that Felix had been arrested for a series of rapes and disappearances. The news said they were police were starting with six rapes and three disappearances. Two boys and seven girls, so far, and they were asking other people to come forward. For weeks, I was excited that justice would happen in the long run, and then came more news. There were three more cold cases that were tied back to him. Within a few days after that, he managed to hang himself in his cell. Snuck away is what he did.

I was all broken up for a long time about what had happened down in the restroom, but I worked through it, mostly, by the time I was out of college. Then all of this new stuff came up, and after reading the stories, it occurred to me that I might’ve been the first. I looked at the dates and they were all after me. All the known dates, sure, but … every single one of them happened later.

I spent months thinking maybe I coulda stopped him before he got started. Maybe I coulda told someone. Maybe I coulda known how to. Eventually, a plan came to me, one that would stop the maybes. That’s how this trip was born.

The clonopin was kicking in and working great. Once I’d gotten to that point, I didn’t have any more anxiety. I was just calm and sad. I was ready to write an ending for one of his stories – the one with me.

I reached into my coat pockets and took out my cell phone and my 22.

One thing at a time. Calm. That’s how it was. I unlocked the phone and pulled up email, then drafts, and then I skimmed the email I’d written for Angela, explaining it all. I scrolled back up and hit send. I’d wanted her to know, but not to know too soon.

I was going to put the phone down right next to me, but thought maybe the gun would fall and it would break it, or maybe blood would get all over it, so I slipped it back into my coat.

I put the gun barrel in my mouth. Carefully. You want to point it upward, the internet said. Don’t make yourself a vegetable by blowing off the wrong part of your brain. It has to go right up into your head. They say the 22 is great for that because it’s less likely to exit, which means it can just bounce around and do lots of damage. Perfect for me. Nice and thorough, and maybe less messy than others.

I took a really deep breath, really deep, and then two more quick breaths and held it all for a moment, and I could feel it taking effect as I exhaled, even as I was blowing the odor of gun oil all over the little room. Vagus nerve stimulation is what it’s called. You can look it up. Great for calming, fighting depression, stimulating digestion – all kinds of things.

I did it one more time. Deep, hold it, then breathe it out slowly.

I pulled the trigger.

The hammer just snapped down. No bang, no blast, no blood. That’s the problem, you see, with rimfire cartridges. You get a lot more misfires than with regular center-fire cartridges. I had six shots, though. What were the chances they’d all misfire?

I took my deep breath again and let it all out, slowly. Everything was still on track.

I pulled the trigger.

Again, snap. No bang, no blast, no blood.

I thought about getting angry, or at least desperate. I thought about firing off the other four shells in rapid succession, but I just didn’t have the energy for an outburst.

Plus, my phone was buzzing, which was an enormous distraction at that point. I couldn’t process both, so I put the gun back in my coat pocket and took out the phone.

Angela.

I didn’t know how long I’d been sitting there, but it was long enough for her to get the email, read it twice, and go into orbit. It was long enough for five missed calls, however long that was.

The buzzing stopped. I waited for it to start again. I’d just answer. She needed to know.

Then it dawned on me that she was probably now calling 911 for a city that I wasn’t even in, and trying to get someone to go looking for someone about to kill themselves someplace where nobody was.

I dialed and it rolled to voice mail.

I dialed again and it rolled to voice mail.

I dialed again, and she grabbed it on the first ring. Her throat was tight and her sinuses were filled with mucus.

"Hi ... hi, Angela ... "

"No … No … I'm ..."

"No, I stopped myself. I won't. No, I promise I won’t."

"It’s just … well, I don’t know if I can say it better over the phone than in the email, y'know?"

"I know … it wasn’t fair."

"I’m sorry this happened."

"I’m … yes … my flight is still scheduled for this evening. I might could move it up. Yes, I will if I can."

"Sure, you can meet me there. That would be good."

I said "Yes" a lot, and "No" a lot, and "I’m sorry" a lot, and I agreed to a lot of things before we got off the phone. They weren’t all easy things, but in the long run, they were all good things.

I managed to escape the basement and slip out the back door of the building without anyone noticing.

The rest of the day went smoothly – and according to the new plan.

[fashiontrendin-blog]

9 Outfits Team Man Repeller Wants to Wear This Summer

https://fashion-trendin.com/9-outfits-team-man-repeller-wants-to-wear-this-summer/

9 Outfits Team Man Repeller Wants to Wear This Summer

Man Repeller’s archive of style content is essentially a never-ending supply of outfit ideas. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve dipped into its coffers with my proverbial ladle and dished myself out a fresh spoonful of inspiration. The only unfortunate thing is that, per the Internet’s oh-so-turnover-friendly nature, a lot of our best stuff gets forgotten — or worse, buried — in the ever-expanding void, which (not to sound like a cranky hermit husk) is a crying shame! In the interest of highlighting some of our past favorites, I asked Man Repeller’s creative team to dip in their ladles and tell me about a particular outfit they’re interested in bringing back to life via their very own wardrobes. Read their answers (and mine) below, and share yours in the comments.

What outfit do you want to approximate? A high-waist bikini bottom paired with a dramatic black-tie-appropriate top.

Why this one? I don’t think there are two schools of style more different than “black-tie” and “swimwear,” which is probably why I have a such a burning desire to combine them. I love the absurdity of this outfit, because it’s really only appropriate for a small cheese wedge’s worth of occasions, i.e. lounging by a pool at a safe distance from the water, clutching an aperol spritz. Nothing sounds more leisurely — and leisurely is exactly the adjective I would like applied to all my aesthetic decisions from now until Labor Day.

What outfit do you want to approximate? A Carrie Bradshaw-ified version of Edith’s men’s swim trunks.

Why this one? Edith Young is an icon of our time, but independent of that reality, it is important to note both the undertones that trace back to an episode of Sex and the City from season 4 wherein Carrie Bradshaw meets a doctor on the beach in the Hamptons and Charlotte pretends to be 27 and gets crabs as an inferred result. All of the looks from Edith’s The Only Summer Shorts I want to Wear are Mens Swim Trunks abide by the basic styling tenet that was evidenced in that episode, but doesn’t she just make dressing that much more relatable? I invite you to judge both my attempt and the fact that this is not so much an outfit I want to try as it is one that I have already brainstormed in practice.

What outfit do you want to approximate? A white blouse and green swishy pants with big earrings and round sunglasses.

Why this one? I’ve always loved this shot from Harling’s menocore shoot. It’s the perfect combination of cool and comfortable and weird (much like Harls herself). Reasons being: I’m not immune to the white blouse trend, I really want some green swishy pants, and I’ve recently jumped on the big-earring bandwagon like the slow poke that I am. I want to wear this tomorrow and then every day for the rest of summer. Is that too much?

What outfit do you want to approximate? A pair of biker shorts with a sweatshirt.

Why this one? I’ve been wanting to try the biker-shorts-with-a-sweatshirt look ever since I saw photos of Princess Diana in various biker-shorts-with-sweatshirt outfits. Then I saw Imani do it and I was like ENOUGH ALREADY! IT IS MY TIME TO TRY IT.

I love the proportions, that it’s so clearly comfortable, that it’s air-conditioned-room-appropriate and that it leans into the 80s redux trend that I cannot yet seem to (nor do I want to) shake. I also have this nostalgic-y thing about sweatshirts and shorts in the summer: it reminds me of just having got my license, not having anything to do, and driving to get iced coffee and bagels with my friends. Anytime I can channel that “mood,” I want to.

Only modifications I’d make to the above: I’d probably do black or navy biker shorts and a white or gray sweatshirt? And tortoise shell sunglasses.

What outfit do you want to approximate? Something colorful and beach-themed in a kitschy sense, topped off with a giant hat.

Why this one? These photos (and Amelia’s A+ styling) convinced me to purchase this large straw hat from Mango awhile ago, but I sadly have yet to actually wear it. If I were to categorize this hat by instances in which I’d wear it, I’d say, “only when I’m OOO,” so this weekend is looking like the perfect opportunity. 

What outfit do you want to approximate? A floating midi-dress with an unconventional silhouette, belted by a bateau shirt, punctuated by lobster red accessories on ears and on toes.

Why this one? I think about this dress a lot. It’s menocore for when you just can’t stomach a muted hue. The outfit includes all of the trappings of a lobster trap: netting, lobsters, nautical stripes and the colors of a New England bay.

What outfit do you want to approximate? A white T-shirt, cool straight-leg jeans and heeled slides.

Why this one? Though I was very much on the tie-dye bandwagon in middle school, I sadly missed it when it came back around this spring. Nevertheless, I’m still drawn to this outfit due to its timeless silhouette. You can never go wrong with a white T-shirt. Plus, buying a pair of straight leg jeans and a pair of heeled slides has been on my to-do list for far too long. After reacquainting myself with this look, I’m inspired to invest in less traditional colorways for both items and maybe even drape a sweater around my shoulders like a country club dad.

What outfit do you want to approximate? A flowy slip dress (for ventilation) and a linen shirt to protect from sun rays plus dainty feminine accessories!

Why this one? Full disclosure, I styled this, so my choice is a bit narcissistic, but I just love the look of this yellow slip, dainty accessories and linen shirt. I could wear this to a cafe in NYC, on a rooftop with a drink, at the beach (swimsuit underneath of course) or headed to a dinner at The Boathouse in Central Park. It’s also an easy outfit to approximate. Go try! And feel free to picture yourself in any of the aforementioned locations or Mediterranean coastal city while you’re at it.

What outfit do you want to approximate? Head-to-toe Miranda Hobbes green, mixing a more structured dress with something fun and sexy like this sheer top.

Why this one? I can say that the most confident and fashionable time of my life was my Limited Too heyday of 1997. I confidently wore lime green plaid hip-huggers to sleepaway camp and topped it off with a pleather lime green raincoat and would mix and match neon orange and lavender tops for activities like capture the flag and forced canoeing. While I hated sleepaway camp, I look back on that outfit with an incredible amount of tenderness. I’d like to tap into my former self with this Miranda Hobbes green look, a little more muted but just as stylish and eye-catching. Even though I have always identified as a Magda-sun, Lexi Featherston-moon, I think it’s fully time to embrace all things Miranda.

Okay! Your turn! What outfit (from Man Repeller’s archive or otherwise) do you want to approximate and why?