#ive known for quite some time now that caffeine makes me feel worse than better

[stephaniedola]

so i (mostly) cut caffeine in an attempt to reduce my muscle spasms and you wont believe it but they're pretty much gone

[penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories]

So We Refuse To Take it Tragically

A/N: I’ve just accepted my fate is to be obsessed with this man, so here’s yet another Obi-Wan fic. There will be a second part to this, and I’m thinking a mini series of in-between moments. I won’t give spoilers, but this is NOT my normal type of fic, but he’s an exception to every rule in my book, apparently. Thank you to @caffeine-in-an-iv​ for being my beta on this, I don’t know where this would be without you!

Thank you also to @beskars​ for her post here that birthed this. Always blessing us with fuel for the thirst. 

And to the one I know IRL that found my tumblr, one I will refer to as Top Voice, this is your final warning to gtfo before feasting your eyes on unprecedented filth and sap. 

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Force sensitive! Fem Reader (no Y/N)

Warnings: SMUT!!!  Cumeating, hair pulling, Comfort Sex, ANGST!! (It has a happy ending later, I promise, but it starts after ROTS, so it’s par for the course) If you’re gonna write not-particularly-pertinent-to-plot-porn, might as well make it unnecessarily detailed, right? As usual, too many feelings for porn,  More warnings will be in the tags to prevent spoilers 

Title from one of my favorite quotes: 

“Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataclysm has happened, we are among the ruins, we start to build up new little habitats, to have new little hopes. It is rather hard work: there is now no smooth road into the future: but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles. We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.”

-D.H. Lawrence

Tatooine is no place for a baby.

 There are no soft surfaces, nor comforts, nor surplus of anything. It’s desolate and deprived and oppressive, but you watch as Obi-Wan shields the child from its harsh, sand-pelting winds with his whole body, despite the fact the child fits in the space between his wrist and elbow. It’s overzealous, but you don’t say anything of it.

 The past two days have ripped away nearly everything he held dear, insisting on devastating every tender place. Nothing sacred has been left untouched.

 He broke the code long before he met you, and you know part of why his love for you came so easily, why he had no qualms with breaking his vows, was because he’d long since loved the man that became his family in every way that matters.

 Love and Light so tightly knit together the fabric of his being one could not be separated from the other. 

 And you could take on the entire Force with your two fists for how it had rewarded him for it with Hate and Darkness coming from someone so close it shattered something foundational in Obi-Wan. 

 Yet even now, there isn’t Darkness surrounding his signature. There’s brokenness and his ever-present equilibrium has been replaced by jagged shards. But despite it all, those rugged pieces still reflect light erratically in their shine.

 It’s a loss and betrayal that spans many different planes: on one level, there’s nowhere you look in the galaxy beyond just the two of you that isn’t marked by the Empire’s rise in power, marking the end of the Republic he fought for and the fall of the Jedi, his community, comrades, and only home he’d ever known. And on another level, you’ve seen the weight of war and worse in Obi-Wan’s eyes, but nothing, nothing like this.

 The pain is panoramic, but it’s also profoundly personal.

 Even still, his attention isn’t on himself, but on the fussy bundle in his arms.

 You wonder: is it the galaxy that doesn’t allow this man time to heal? Or is it his own choice to throw himself into the need of others so he has a tangible reason to avoid his own torments?

 When he places the baby into the arms of the young couple, you know the times ahead will give the answer to that.

 Because there aren't the cries of the past few nights to wake either of you, there’s silence. 

 You long to fill it, to try to bridge this insurmountable void with something, anything you could say. But you know it’s bigger than you. So, so much bigger than you.

 Monumental obstacles and tremendous loss find themselves standing in the threshold of an abandoned hut smaller than your flat was on Coruscant. 

 “Well… it’s not much to look at, certainly. But the moisture vaporator seems to be in repairable condition, and we’re just far enough from town to avoid any curious neighbors. What do you think?” He turns to you, and his eyes, dark circles under and all, turn sharp in their assessment of your response. 

 “I told you. I’m going wherever you are so long as you’ll let me.” Your voice is gentle but adamant as you remind him. 

 He walks up from the living room to the threshold of the kitchen where you are, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist. “Be that as it may, I’m asking your input on where we’re going, or living, as your happiness means a great deal to me.” 

 There’s still no smile, but it’s the brightest his energy has felt since the last time you saw him before he came to your door in Coruscant days ago, whispering a rushed, heartfelt farewell, which you quickly countered with an emphatic, unshakable, “I’m coming with you.”

 You look up at him, gliding your hand across his cheek into the hair at the nape of his neck. There’s Darkness at the door of his soul that he’s fighting off every moment, and he has the audacity to speak of your happiness. 

 You don’t dare bring up his. It’s irony, at best. 

 So you smile, timid, knowing the gesture in itself might be blasphemous to the tone, but genuine all the same. “We can make a life here. I know we can.”  

 He scans your eyes, looking to find the authenticity in your statement. “Are you certain?” 

 He’s not asking about the hut anymore. Or, at least, not just the hut. 

 “Obi-Wan, I never had any delusion that any life I had with you would be easy. I thought I’d only ever be getting you in secret, sparse moments. Although I’d never, ever wish for it to be under the circumstances that it is, having you like this is better than I ever hoped.”

 There’s silence as he processes your words, then a wry twist of his features. “How I wish that your expectations needn’t be so low.”

 “No, no, that’s not what I meant.” You incline your head, trying to find the words to convey what you mean. 

 “Nothing any person or any planet anywhere has to offer me holds a candle to what I’ve found in you, nor will it ever. I’d never trade unshakable wholeness for the transience of materialistic happiness.”

 You know this has to resound with him. Is it not within the core set of values he was taught to forsake comfort in any avenue for something far greater? 

 His eyes flick between yours, gauging, and you can feel him reaching out to feel at your signature to solidify the truth. 

 If you knew him any less, you might be insulted at his questioning of your trustworthiness. But it’s not you he doesn’t trust. It’s something good willingly giving itself to him that causes his wariness. 

 The Force can have your middle finger along with your fists. 

 Then he’s relaxing into you, letting out an exhale that seems heavy with more than just air, and burying his nose in your hair for his next inhale. 

 ****

 By the end of the day, you’ve gathered enough supplies for basic necessities and to start on the repairs of the hut. You both snarf down a ration bar before shortly thereafter clearing the blown-in sand off what must have been the bed of the home. It’s a half circle indenture in the wall, and it has a dip obviously made for a mattress or cushion of some sort, but as all that’s available are the blankets bought in town today, you set to fluffing them to some semblance of comfort. 

 Fatigue pulls you into it far sooner than the suns setting. Last night was your first night without Luke, spent in a room you rented in town. Today was spent traveling to and from the hut, discussing details on what needs to be done, and you? You are absolutely exhausted. You can only imagine what he must feel like. 

 Obi-Wan secures the lock on the door before sitting on the side of the bed, looking off into nothing for a long, long moment. 

 You push up to your side, placing a hand on his back. “Obi…”

 His shoulder nudges toward your hand, but he cuts you off. “It’s going to get quite cold when the suns set, and since the stove isn’t properly ventilating yet, we’re going to have to work with body heat.”

 “I’ll try to mask my reluctance,” you retort.

 He turns his face to you then, and just a smidge of humor sweeps across his eyes before he sheds his cloak, followed by everything else until only his pants remain. You’ve long since stripped down to your own sleeping comfort level, so before he can fold his cloak along with the rest of his discarded clothing, you take it and cover yourself with it. 

 He shakes his head a little at you once he’s done, settling down next to you, throwing the covers over both of you. 

 “Tell me what you need.” You’re face to face with him, but his expression is unreadable. 

 “I… I don’t know.” He considers you as if you held the answer to the question you just asked him.

 “What about want, then? What do you want, Obi-Wan?” You wish he didn’t have his shields perpetually raised these days. It’d be so much easier to just read his energy. 

 His hand reaches up so he can stroke your cheek with his thumb. “You’re tired, darling. Rest.” 

 Ah, there it is. If the answer to the question of desire is him counter offering his own response with the fact you’re tired… 

  “So are you. But you still want.” You press your body fully against his, dropping your voice down to a whisper. “And so do I.” 

 You won’t push anymore than that, letting him take or leave the invitation. For you, it’s not even a question. It’s been four months since you last saw him. Since you’d last felt his touch.

 You’d spent the last few nights in each other’s arms, but between Luke's shrill cries and the deafening devastation of the events of the days prior, it’d been just that: sleep. Or, what tousled, disturbed counterfeit the circumstance offered you both.  

 For him, though, there’s an abysmal weariness that digs far beyond lack of sleep, and you don’t dare infringe upon him in any way.

 But there’s still a longing present, and even without his Force signature to guide you into his feelings, he can’t hide his eyes. 

 You watch the moment he makes a decision solidify across his countenance right before he presses his lips against yours. You sigh into it, letting the draw of his skin on yours pull you into orbit.

 Because that’s exactly what happens. It’s a kiss for a kiss’ sake, for flavor and fervency and the fullness of each other, but it quickly gains its own momentum when his tongue parts your lips truly. 

 It’s an acute absence. Not having his energy surrounding you with his shields so far up. But it also gives sharp attention to the press of skin against skin, makes it an anchor and an outlet for all that is still too tender to even acknowledge.

 You find grip in his hair, purposefully running your hands the opposite of the way he combs it as he takes your face in both hands and pulls you into him all the more. 

 When you both need to breathe, he only moves so far away that his lips still brush against yours on every exhale. “I..” he starts, then stops. 

 The hand still in his hair rakes through it gently, scratching your fingertips against his scalp as you wait for him to complete his thought.

 “Let me taste you,” he says at last. You know it's a question from the way he stills, waiting for permission, but it’s phrased as nothing like it. 

 You raise an eyebrow. “Is that a rhetorical quest…”

 “Oh, hush.” He’s already nudging you over onto your back, situating his body over yours, claiming your lips again. You allow yourself to sink into it, cherishing his weight over you, his hand roaming your ribcage, before pulling back to speak. 

 “I’m sorry, are you now getting on to me for my sass? Because… oh!”

 He finds a nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt, pinching softly with a small tug. 

 “By all means, continue. I was most intrigued.” His smirk is back, but it fixes you with a tinge of worry when it again proves to be a smile only skin deep.

 You place two fingers just shy of his forehead, but he catches your wrist in an almost painful clasp. The alarm casted by his expression quickly is washed away by a carefully constructed impassiveness, and your heart sinks. 

 He has to see it, because he bows his head in apology. “Not tonight.”

 And before you have any room to respond, he’s shifting himself down as he lifts your shirt up, placing a single taunting, wet kiss on each nipple before moving even further down, nipping at the skin right below your belly button. 

 He’s distracting you from what he’s not allowing you access to, and you know it, and you let him anyway. That’s what this is, isn’t it? Distraction from the barrage of the mind. If that’s what he needs, that’s what you’ll give.

 As he toys with the hem of your underthings, and you lift your hips to assist their removal, you realize it’s exactly what you need too.

 Except he apparently isn’t planning to remove your underwear at all. With a casual flick of his hand, your legs are parted and held like that with a no-nonsense sprout of Force energy. Then he’s simply pulling the cloth to the side and brings his mouth torturously closer, but stops just before contact. 

 You push up to your elbows to tell him you can’t take much of those teasing breaths he’s taking, blowing hot air against sensitive nerve endings. But when you hear his breath stutter as he just looks, unhurried in admiration, you decide against it, even as you flush at the undivided attention. Sprawling his palms out over your inner thighs, he dips down to press his mouth between his fingers, sucking not-so-gently into the soft skin, sending the flesh into tremors before he’s even really done anything to you.

 He says your name as he opens you up with his fingers, parting your folds so everything is bared to his view. You start to squirm, the exposure starting to feel a little too heady, and you’re starting to appeal with the beginning of his name when he leans forward, straight away connecting his lips to your clit. You try to thrust up into it as some shameful noise leaves you, but there’s only so much movement you have with your legs still pinned. 

 He loves to tease, so you don’t expect him to retract the energy that constricted your legs at the first resistance. Instead, he slides his hands under your ass, pulling you on to his tongue and lets you push your hips into him unchecked.

 He hums at your enthusiasm, the reverberation sending your hands into his hair again, which gifts you with even more noises from him. 

 It doesn’t take long at all, and you’re coming undone on his tongue, biting into your forearm to dampen your cry. 

 He doesn’t stop until you push at his shoulder, signaling your tender surrender. He obeys, looking up at you from between your thighs, absolutely besotted, eyes shining a shade brighter than before. 

 Then. Obi-Wan Kenobi keeps his eyes on yours before dipping his head and tilting his jaw, running his beard right where you’re still open and vulnerable, abrasion grating in a way you know you’ll be feeling all day tomorrow. 

 He licks his lips as he moves back up to kiss you again, letting you taste yourself on him. 

 He goes easily when you gesture for him to lie on his back so you can straddle him, carefully avoiding any contact where he’s throbbing for you. His hands fall right to your waist, stroking gently as he waits for you to initiate. 

 You focus your study on the section of his hair that’s fallen in his face, twirling a finger in it, happy to have anywhere to look but his eyes. 

 He’d normally at least be in your mind by now, and even though you understand it, well, the drought of it is as appropriate for the planet as anything. 

 You remember too late to raise your own shields against any accidentally too-loud thoughts, as Obi-Wan cups his hand on your chin, forcing your gaze to his, saying your name quietly in calling.

 “You have to know, it isn’t anything to do with…”

 You interrupt him. “No. No. I won’t have you addressing my insecurities of all things in light of…”

 “Please listen, love. I need you to know, it hasn’t anything to do with the love I have for you. That hasn’t changed and never will. I think I need… “ He pauses, solemn in thought. “Time,” he finishes finally.

 You knew this already in the pit of your stomach, but hearing him say it, hearing him affirm that it isn’t you insufficiency… you hate that you needed it as much as you did. 

 And if he needs time? That’s what you’ll give. But he also has a want, evidenced by the brush of him against you when you scoot yourself down his torso. 

 You take the hem of his pants with you when you continue down, ridding him of them and his shorts. But when you wrap your hand around him and begin to lower your mouth, he grips your chin again, shaking his head. 

 “I can’t… please, just.”  It’s always an anomaly when he’s at a loss for words, usually ever-so articulate.  

 A gasp chokes out of you when you feel the phantom of his mind. Not in full, no. With barriers, and it’s projected out, not at all the same sensation to being within it. 

 It’s desperation. For how long it’s been, for how drained he feels, how he’s not sure how long this will last, and how much he yearns to be inside you.

There’s not even a second of debate in your mind as you take your position on his lap again, lifting your hips, intention apparent. He takes his cock in hand, holding steady so you can start to seat yourself onto the thick push of him. 

 The hitch in his breath is your only warning before he seizes the undersides of your thighs, halting you from taking him any further.

 His eyes are tightly shut, and you know from watching him before that his facial expression is an attempt at borderline meditation, except it’s several long seconds before he achieves anything resembling calm. 

 It’s as good a time as any to push his hands off you and squirm around to take him a little deeper. You plan on rubbing your victory in, but your smirk is wiped away with a whine at the elation. Instead of stopping you again, he almost imperceptibly thrusts up, and it’s your turn to falter, slamming your hands into his chest, nails digging in, working against your weight trying to pull you down onto him. 

 It goes on like that, until you’re both bordering on hysteria before you’ve even fully taken him. You can’t figure out if it’s a worse torment to keep delaying or continuing. 

 Obi-Wan seems to have come to his own conclusion to that, as he finally opens his eyes, locking them with yours as he places his palms flat on the tops of your thighs and pushes down until your skin is flush with his.

 You pull a hand up, biting on your fist, trying to stifle the exclamation in your throat.

 He pulls it away, voice ragged as he speaks. “I want to hear you, little one. We needn’t hide anymore.”

 It’s a dimensional statement. For one, no one is around for miles, a stark contrast to your quarters on Coruscant where you at least attempted to be considerate of your too-near neighbors when it came to noise. For another, it’s the irony of being in hiding from the Empire, but being allowed to be open in your relationship with each other finally.

 And the deepest irony is that you both have your barriers up so firmly right now all you can concentrate on is bared skin.

 Oh, but what a beautiful spanse of bared skin he is. Freckled and almost luminously pale, bending and curving with the strength of the form underneath.

 He sits up slowly, generating a breathless plea from both of you at the new angle. A search of your eyes asks you a question, and you’re nodding, kissing him with the full brunt of your craving. 

 You slide up and then down again just as he drives up, and you’ve found your rhythm, just like that. 

 His hands push you onto him every time you pull up, and his tongue laves your breasts, sucking and biting along your collarbone, as you rake your nails down his chest, over the backs of his shoulders, his scalp, anything you can touch. 

 It’s enough to send him into a chorus of groans, shoving himself hard up into you.

 He doesn’t even speak it aloud, just projects the apologetic warning that he’s on the edge.

 When his thumb finds your clit, everything in you goes tense despite the relief. You clench around him, hard, and he instantly moves his hands to your shoulder blades pulling you flush against him as he lets out an unrestrained sound against your breasts. 

 You push his thumb away from where it’s stilled against you, replacing it with your own. His fingers twitch in their bruising grip, and you can feel him throbbing inside you.

 You stay like that for a moment, just letting him ride out his bliss, whispering sweet affirmations into his hair.

 When he looks up at you again, his eyes are glassed over. You wonder if it’s ecstasy that is the cause, or something from the bedrock boiling to the surface. 

 He doesn’t give you a chance to elaborate, flipping you over on to your back. The moment he withdraws, you can feel the mess dripping down your inner thighs. 

 It takes everything in you to not come at the sight alone as Obi-Wan dips further down your body, parting you and lapping his tongue right where you’re weeping evidence of desire. 

 You know you have to be making a mess of his face and beard, but he certainly doesn’t seem to mind, indulging on his own spill infused with yours. 

 When he adds two fingers in you and curls them strategically, searing heat shoots through your lower stomach as you arch against his mouth, his name a high whisper with absolutely no suppression, echoing across the empty stone walls of the home. 

 He leaves a final tender kiss against you before lying down next to you, pulling you into his arms, and you pull him into yours right back when your limbs remember how to function.

 His head drops against yours, and his eyes flutter shut, taking a deep inhale, like he’s trying to fill his lungs with more than just oxygen. 

 Nothing is fine, and the world is crumbling. But right now, as the suns finally leave the house in dark, as you clasp each other in tight embrace, as sleep pulls you under, you can pretend it’s fine. If only for a moment.

 *******

  There’s a flash of feeling that startles you awake and into the disorientation that comes from waking in a new place. The sensation worsens when you feel the reverberations of the equivalent of a slammed door in the Force. 

 You sit up quickly and look over to Obi-Wan, who sits on the side of the bed, head in his hands, fingers brutal in their grip.

 You move toward him, and he turns around at the sound. “Go back to sleep, darling. it’s nothing.”

 When you fix him with a gaze that essentially translates “bantha fodder,” he just lies back down, pulling your back into his chest, and you doubt the fact you can’t see his face like this is a mistake. 

 The rhythm of his breathing betrays the fact he is nowhere near sleep, but you find yourself fading off soon again anyway.

 ****

 When you wake in the morning, you’re alone in the bed, which is no surprise. He’s not one to lounge, and if the height of the suns peaking through the window has anything to say, he’s already been up for a while.

 His cloak is still tangled in the blankets, though, and you wrap yourself in it, padding outside after doing something about your morning breath. 

 The hut is situated on a cliff, overlooking a barren valley. The suns glare with their unrelenting eyes of heat even so early in the day, and you stare back as best you can without squinting, daring them to do their worst. They know nothing of the misery that’s already visited this home. They have no hope of competing. 

 You find Obi-Wan cross-legged near the edge of the cliff. Cross-legged and levitating. 

 Of course, you know he can do things like this. It’s just such a different thing to see him doing it . You’ve never had a proper morning with him like this, seeing his routine. He was always up before the sun, you with him, gathering moments and soaking them in before he had to leave again.

 He looks almost peaceful now, not at rest, but peaceful. 

 How?

 How does he still have so much trust in the Force? 

 A more lighthearted thought emerges through the grim train, as you notice he’s opted to not put his tunic back on yet. 

 It doesn’t matter out here, you suppose, there isn’t any other living being for miles around. For that matter, you wonder why he even left the pants. 

 His voice damn near startles you, not even opening his eyes to address you. 

 “Although that may be the case, there are some locations more bearable to get sunburn than others.”

 You blush at being caught, and gently ensure your thoughts aren’t accidentally projected again, but he doesn’t give you much time to dwell on it.

 “Join me?”

 As he opens his eyes and descends the couple inches down back onto the ground, you feel your heart do the same. He’s taught you little things, here and there, and you’ve enjoyed it, learning to tap into that constant humming you never had the tools to channel before.

 But now? 

 What interest do you have with The Force that failed the man who served it without fail? You could burn it down for the atrocities it’s committed even in negligence against the man you love.

 But there’s been enough burning.

 Obi-Wan won’t speak of what transpired on Mustafar, but you’ve caught glimpses. Last night wasn’t the first night you’ve had him back, and it wasn’t the first you’d woken to a severe troubling in his aura. 

 You’re still not sure if Luke is a fussy baby or simply a very responsive one, as it seemed Obi-Wan was already awake before Luke started crying. 

 It was only mere seconds before his shields came slamming down, firmly in place, every time. 

You can’t tell if he’s trying to shelter you from his feelings or blockade them away from himself.

 Maybe both.

 But those seconds? They’re long enough. For just a flash of a charred, severed body. Of hateful, pleading, golden eyes. 

 There’s been enough burning. 

 “I can’t ever be a Jedi, Obi.” 

 “That’s not what I’m asking of you.” 

 He knows your criticisms as well as your compliments over the Jedi. You’ve both discussed it at great length many times, always over a firm understanding and respect, but you’ve never really had long enough to have a conclusion. But you’re not going to push now, not with the fall of it all still so close behind him. 

 “I should think our relationship itself is testimony that I don’t inherently agree or adhere to all Jedi teachings.”

 You drop your eyes, trying to ignore the sweat starting to trickle down your skin from the relentless heat. “I thought maybe you were with me in spite of your better judgement.”

 His brow furrows. “At first, that’s what I may have thought too, but it made itself clear that although what transpired between us was forbidden by the Code…” he trails off for a moment, almost hesitant. “...the way Light was and is exemplified any time I have you in my arms presented a solidified case that not always is the Jedi way synonymous with the will of the Force.”

 He says it wholeheartedly, but you can tell it pains him. It’s easy to never speak ill of the dead, either of individuals or groups. To glorify and wipe away any transgressions to ensure their memory sparkles as you grieve it. 

 The harder thing is to grieve everything, both the good you lost and the bad you experienced from the same source.

 And there’s another level there. Something that has him patting the spot beside him and giving a heartbreakingly forced smile.

 Even through it all, wariness of aspects of his own religion included, he seeks unity with the Force without reservation or resentment.

 You don’t fight him anymore. 

 The war is over, but the battle has just begun, and so help you Maker, you’re going to fight for him to have the chance to heal. 

 So you sit, mimicking his position. 

 When he smiles again, it’s much smaller but not at all fake. 

 “First, clear your mind.”

 *****

 The days are afflicted with an underlying gloom, full of work that busies the hands but leaves the mind to wander, which wasn’t at all a luxurious thing. 

 But the nights are filled with unclaimed time, time in an abundance you never had with each other before. 

 Sometimes it’s shot with silence from the weight of the day, reveling in the presence of another as you work together on the supper dishes.

 Or sometimes there’s almost an excitement, despite the labor ahead, of the plans for the place that’s now your home. 

 “Wouldn’t we have to have some sort of larger equipment to hoist that over the cliff edge?” You wonder aloud to Obi-Wan, speaking of the replacement unit for finally getting some very basic temperature control for the hut. “The way around back is too rough and would scratch it up, and I, for one, wouldn’t want to try pushing it up manu…”

 You stop at his smirk he’s trying to hide with tilting his tea cup higher over his lips. 

 “...Or there’s a Jedi solution to this problem that requires neither, and you’re just letting me ramble on anyway.” You punctuate the end of your statement by tossing a pillow his direction, which just stops. Midair. 

 There’s so much legend surrounding Jedi, you haven’t really been sure what’s factual and what’s fairytale. 

 You certainly knew of some of his abilities, but he didn’t tend to elaborate on details of his missions before, and you never argued, knowing it was a liability for you to have that kind of information if anyone ever found out what you meant to Obi-Wan.

 He chuckles, not even trying to look a little guilty. 

 Once you remember to shut your mouth, you get back to planning. “And that same principle just applies to objects of any size?”

 He nods. “Same principle, just more concentration required.” 

 You tuck your feet under you on your chair as you think on that for a second. You’ll have to ask him to teach you that one next. Mediation alone could get rather dull.

 “So, for instance, if a great amount of concentration is being spent Force-lifting an object up the cliff, it would leave a Jedi vulnerable to, say… projectiles thrown?” You throw another pillow at him, which just as easily halts next to the other, gravity defiant. 

 He could have lowered the first one by now. You raise a brow at the knowledge he’s putting on a show for you. 

 “You’ll have to do better than that, I’m afraid.” 

 More often than not, the time of the evenings are spent loving and lounging in sheets, savoring the difference of unhurried lovemaking, with no heart-wrenching farewell on the horizon.

 But every time you gently ask to reach his mind, he pushes the request and your hand away.

 *******

 Obi-Wan’s visits to see Luke are met with a level of hostility. The man, Owen, seems wary of him, doing everything he can to cut the visit short as you and the woman, Beru, if you remember correctly, look silently to each other for some relief in the tension.

 They already likely know his actual name, but you’re careful to only address Obi as “Ben” here, along with everywhere else that isn’t your hut. It’s precautionary, but if it’s for the sake of protecting Luke and Obi-Wan himself, you’ll do it without any further questions.

 But Luke seems to be doing well, and that is ultimately what matters most. It’s hard to believe how quickly he’s grown in the mere weeks that you’ve been here.

 The boy might be by far Obi-Wan’s greatest purpose being on this planet, but it’s not his only. 

 Master Yoda had given him Jedi texts, yes, but also another task for his time here. 

You’re thankful to talk about either, as it seems to be one of the few things he’ll open up to you about as it pertains to himself. 

 But when he goes to meditate alone, calling for his mentor, his father in every right of the term, he comes back more empty than he left. 

 When you look at him with a too-knowing look, too infiltrating for his comfort, he easily slides into a quip.

 “My old master, it seems, won’t appear unless on his own terms. I’m not sure what else I expected, honestly.”

 ******

 You also learn that the man does not cook. Not that you consider yourself an expert, but at the very minimum, you know how to use spices, which on Tatooine come as hot as their weather.

 “Is it a Jedi thing to have tasteless food, or is that just you?” You tease as he dices some sort of root at your direction while you sift through the cabinet. 

 His eyes are full of mischief when he’s quiet for a moment before speaking up. “I would argue there’s concrete evidence that I’m quite happy to indulge in the pleasures of taste.”

 You can’t help your blush as his very pointed look. 

 Dinner is long forgotten after that, but the night is delectable all the same.

 *****

 Something has shifted in your own Force signature. Something you can’t put your finger on. 

 It doesn’t seem harmful or threatening in essence, but it makes you wary in a way that makes your skin itch with more than the dryness. 

 You try not to think much of it. After all, there’s plenty to do between tending to the vaporator, hunting, fending off the Sand People, and your learning to wield the Force.

 After rumors of Tusken raiders being nearby, you ask Obi-Wan to teach you combat.  This would be starting long before he normally would teach someone, he explained, but he does it anyway. It’s not exactly using the Force at first, having to start with how to even move your body in the event of attack, slowly enhancing those skills with the Force as you become more confident in them. 

 You look forward to it more than any other task. It gives you a strength you haven’t had before, and it’s a whole different level of connection to the Force when you trust it physically, not just in your mind. 

 It’s also another level of trust with Obi-Wan, knowing he’d never hurt you even as he enters the role of a potential threat, guiding you through how to handle it.

 So you don’t know why today your stomach won’t agree to the way you want your body to move. You push through it anyway, despite Obi-Wan’s concerned questioning. 

 You lose your lunch into the rocks, and you really wish he wouldn’t pick you up to take you back into the hut, because the shift of what’s up and what’s down doesn’t help at all. 

 And you wish he wouldn’t dote over you the rest of the day, as if you didn’t feel useless enough already, as if the illness didn’t leave as quickly as it came. 

 You make a mental note to ensure you don’t let yourself become dehydrated again to that point.

 *****

 The trips into town are kept to a minimum, trying to keep curiosity away from the new couple. Also, there wasn’t much to do except barter and spend credits, something you both tried not to do a great deal of. 

 Obi-Wan was sent off with enough Republic credits to get you started here, but it was hit or miss if the vendors took them that day, and he also didn’t want to spend too much at once.

 Nothing was more suspicious than surplus here.

 The woman you brought the limited produce available from seemed… different this trip. 

 Obi-Wan was a couple of stalls down from you, negotiating with a man who had obviously jacked up the price on the items needed. Poor man didn’t know what he was in for. 

 You turned your attention back on to the woman in front of you, and tried to decipher what was different this time and why it felt so familiar. 

 As you pointed to a basket of hubba gourds, inquiring of the price, she gave you one that you knew for a fact was higher than last time. 

 You counter offered the same price as last time you were here, and she firmly stated her price again. Ready to stand your ground, you go to state your price again, she puts her hand to her belly, bringing her skirt in around, revealing a small bump. 

 “Can’t afford your low-ball offers with this one on the way, understand?” 

 The sky suddenly falls around you in thunderous clamor as the physical realm around you moves on, unaffected and unreachable. Almost mechanically, you place the credits she asked for on the table, not even capable of addressing the obvious manipulation.

 Understanding drenches you in its brutal weight as you realize the source why she felt so different this time. 

 Your hands shake in their clasp on the basket as you pull yourself into a side alley, heaving your breakfast up. 

 Because you recognize the same difference in her is the exact same one that has changed your Force signature.

 It’s because there’s a flickering light of another being’s Force signature within you. 

  Tagged as requested: @maybege​

[puddygeeks]

Wᴇ Cᴏᴍᴇ Rᴜɴɴɪɴɢ - Tʜᴇ 100 Bᴇʟʟᴀᴍʏ x OC - Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 70: Sᴇᴇᴅs ᴏғ Dɪsᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ

Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Summary: During her time in the Skybox, Indigo formed a precious friendship with fellow outcast Octavia Blake, the girl under the floor. At first they thought their departure from the oppression of the Ark was a blessing, but quickly came to rely on Indigo's keen survival instincts. The 100 struggle to meet the challenges of Earth whilst Bellamy strives to lead the wavering teenagers and his irresponsible attitude fuels constant conflict with Indigo. Their only shared interest is in protecting Octavia and Indigo beings to suspect that there is a deeper cause to Bellamy's seemingly irrational choices. As the consequences of his actions mount up around him, he finally begins to confide in her and she discovers more than she ever bargained for.

Fandom: CW’s The 100

Pairing: OC x Bellamy Blake

LONG TERM ONGOING PROJECT :)

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

Warnings: Mature content. Non-consent, language, sex, self harm, suicide, anxiety, helplessness, torture, captivity/confinement, alcohol/drug use.

Episodes: Watch The Thrones

Chapter Seventy

My body felt heavy as I gradually stirred and the first thing that I noticed in my environment was the consistent beep of a heart monitor. Something was in my nostrils, irritating my nose and I could feel dressings of some kind stuck to multiple parts of my skin. There was an intense soreness in my chest, feeling as if I had been bruised all over and I felt the familiar tight sensation of stitches.

Exhaustion hung over me, preventing me from opening my eyes too soon and my mind swirled over the last events in my memory as I tried to make sense of what was happening. The explosion of Mount Weather replayed in my mind and I felt my heart skip a beat in panic, allowing me a burst of energy to wake from the medication that was being pumped into an IV.

The medical unit swam into view and it took a few moments for me to process the fact that I was back in Arkada. People rushed around me, seeming flustered by my movement as if they had not expected it and I strained to concentrate on their words.

“Get Abby. She’s waking up!” Jackson’s voice alerted, before hurrying over to my side in concern and he slapped my hands away as I attempted to pull an oxygen tube from my nose.

“Morning, sleepyhead. Now listen, don’t go getting all excited and jumping around. You’re not long out of surgery, so you still need to rest. I’m just going to run some obs on you to check how you’re doing whilst you get your bearings.” He explained, moving to wheel over a blood pressure machine with a bunch of other medical tools sitting in a basket that was attached to it and I nodded to consent to anything that he felt he needed to do.

Everything felt horribly bright to my tired eyes, but fortunately the ward was empty so I could take my time to reorient myself without any interruption. My memories of how I survived the explosion were hazy in my muddled mind and I was sure that I remembered Jackson arriving at the perfect moment to treat me, but I couldn’t think of any reason why he would have been there.

“Am I imagining things, or did you save my life?” I muttered, my voice still hoarse from smoke inhalation and Jackson smiled down at me as he worked.

He finished placing the blood pressure cuff on my arm and set it to begin squeezing my arm, then busied himself with taking my temperature. I waited patiently for an answer, my blinks lazy and long as I still battled to wake up and once he was content that he’d done all he needed too, Jackson perched on the edge of the bed to view me with evident fondness.

“Sinclair radioed to ask me to come to staff the med bay in the mountain as soon as the rescue party left. Just in case things went bad, he thought it made sense to have me standing-by where the best of our equipment was.” He explained calmly, observing me closely as he filled in a medical chart and I hummed thoughtfully, surprised at how efficient Sinclair had been whilst we were leaderless. “Fortunately, it took a while to get there, so I was just in time to witness your crazy stunt.” He quipped, glancing up at me with a cheeky glint in his eye and I smiled weakly at him.

Before I could manage a response, Abby rounded the corner and thinned her eyes at me in a manner that indicated that I was in trouble. Jackson noticed my attitude become tense and glanced back at her, before grimacing slightly. He instantly got to his feet, sneaking me a supportive smile as he packed up the equipment and then made himself scarce.

“You have us quite a scare, Indigo. Again.” Abby declared, nearing to check my stats on the machines and I knew that I was in for a lecture. 

“I only just found out that you asked Jackson to hide your broken ribs from everyone. Do you understand how irresponsible that was? If he hadn’t arrived at Mount Weather just after the explosion, you would have died from your injuries. You’re very lucky that you still didn’t.” She scolded, standing above me with a stern expression and I moved my gaze to my feet awkwardly.

“I’m sorry, Abby.” I whispered, feeling completely unprepared to defend my actions when I was this weak and I chewed on my lip. 

Deep down, I knew that I deserved to hear this and she was right to be furious at me for my actions, but whilst every part of my body was aching, I was all too aware of the effect of my decisions. I didn’t need anyone to tell me that I had been foolish, but I swallowed my pride to allow them their reactions and she sighed in an exhausted manner as she regarded me.

“I’m not the only person that you need to apologise to. Sometimes, I’m not convinced that you realise the impact you have on this camp. Your remaining group all depend on each other for their wellbeing and each time that we lose one of you, the rest of you suffer. They all worry for you and you know better than anyone that when they worry, they make bad decisions. In the time that I’ve known you, you’ve always acted as if you are the most mature of your group and have taken the role of being responsible for them. I’m sorry if this is difficult to hear, but it’s time for you to realise that your actions will get them killed if you don’t start learning to share the burden.” She advised, her voice low and serious, and I finally met her eyes with regret.

“You’re right.” I admitted, fiddling with my hands awkwardly, feeling as if I were staring into the face of my own disappointed mother and as I opened my mouth to continue, Bellamy hurtled around the corner in a fluster.

Though Abby tried to warn him off with her body language, clearly keen to finish our conversation without him fussing over me, he refused to await permission to interrupt. He charged past her to reach my bedside with desperation and had to pause just before he reached me to soften his movements so that he wouldn’t unintentionally hurt me in his enthusiasm.

“You’re finally awake!” He breathed, relief filling his handsome features as he gently took my face in his hands and placed a cautious kiss on my forehead, as if he were afraid that he might break me. “You really scared me this time, Inds. I thought I was gonna lose you.” He confessed in a weak voice, his eyes still red from crying and whilst he was close enough for me to properly examine him, I began to notice how broken down he looked.

“I’m fine, Bel. I’m not going anywhere.” I answered reassuringly, keen to put his troubled mind at ease and without even looking at her, I could feel Abby raising her brows at me as she cleared her throat.

“Actually, she’s not fine.” She clarified, stepping closer with her arms crossed and Bellamy turned to view her with interest. “In the interest of transparency, as your girlfriend has a history of hiding important medical information, you should know that she has three broken ribs, one of which caused the puncture in her lung. These breaks occurred almost six weeks ago in a fight, I’m told, and so although they shouldn’t give her too much trouble in future, they are something that will need to be taken into consideration from now on. Fortunately, we were able to confirm in surgery that they’re mostly healed at this point, as much as it is possible for them to.” She reported, allowing Bellamy a chance to sneak a frustrated glance at me that made me shrink in shame, before she continued.

“However, her lung has taken some substantial damage. We will need to monitor her breathing to ensure that it continues to heal and doesn’t collapse again. She’s also sustained several second degree burns, which will need regular dressing changes and care. Not to mention that she just underwent life saving surgery which will leave her weak and vulnerable. We’ll keep her here overnight, at least, but I need to make it clear that she is not to go on patrol, or guard duty, or partake in any kind of strenuous activity for some time, and absolutely not without my express permission. This is serious and I expect it to be treated as such.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure that it is.” Bellamy asserted, his voice deeply serious now that he knew the full extent of my injuries and I already recognised from his tone that I was about to be in far worse trouble with him than I ever had been with Abby.

“I’ll let you two catch up for now. But, Indigo, you and I are not finished.” Abby stated, flashing me one last severe glare, before she departed and I gulped down my dread as I anticipated the rest of my punishment from her.

Once we were alone, I could sense the tension in the air and Bellamy turned to study me with an obvious sense of betrayal that made me want the ground to open up and swallow me.

“Indie. What is going on with you?” He asked, furrowing his brows together as if he couldn’t understand what he had just been told and I shuffled in discomfort as his dark eyes studied me. “Why didn’t you tell me about the broken ribs?” He grilled, his tone displaying the hurt that he felt at this discovery and I could hardly stand how awful I felt about this decision now.

“Because I knew that you would make that face.” I answered in a sulky manner as I peeked up at the protective expression that he was wearing and I watched as he attempted to disguise the overbearing concern that was present in his eyes with little success.

“What face?”

“The face that you’re making right now. The poor, delicate Indie face. I hate that face.” I grumbled childishly as I crossed my arms, despising the way that he fretted over me whenever I was hurt and he cracked a slight smile at my confession. 

“You know, I hate your face is a terrible way to start an apology.” He replied mockingly and though I was appreciative of his efforts to lighten the conversation, I couldn’t deny the awful feeling that was taking root in the pit of my stomach.

“I know that I should have told you. Even at the time, I knew it was wrong to cover it up.” I began, knitting my hands together nervously and he slipped a hand between them to stop me, instead just holding it comfortingly. “I knew that if you all found out, you would take me off patrol and guard duty, and I would just be trapped inside Arkadia, going totally crazy. It’s selfish, but I wanted to be able to go out with you, to make sure that you were okay. I couldn’t go back to waiting for you to come home.”

“We could’ve restricted your duties, so that you weren’t totally grounded.” He argued, seeming disappointed that I hadn’t trusted him to compromise with me and the guilt of this choice compounded in my chest. “You have to be more careful with your decisions, Indie. Keeping this to yourself could have gotten you seriously hurt at any time. You almost died!” He added with his voice raising in frustration as he considered it and I struggled to defend myself against his points.

“I know. It was stupid and reckless, and I knew that, but I did it anyway.” I confirmed, unable to lie any longer about my mindset at the time and Bellamy tilted his head at me as if to silently ask why I still did it. “I needed to keep coming out with you all, so that I could protect you. I couldn’t stand the thought of anything happening to you whilst I was recovering. As it turns out, my protection didn’t make a damn bit of difference when it really counted.” I added bitterly, dropping my gaze to my lap to avoid his reaction as I felt my eyes welling up and I could sense that he was studying me.

“What are you talking about?” He enquired with confusion, leaning forward to meet my gaze and I cleared my throat in a pointless attempt to keep the emotion from my voice.

“I failed her. Gina died because I left her alone. If I had stayed with her, I could’ve protected her. I could’ve protected all of Mount Weather. Instead, all I did was save myself.” I divulged, a feeling of utter shame overwhelming me as I recalled the moment that I ran, leaving everyone to die and Bellamy grabbed my chin to force me to look at him.

“Hey. Don’t do that to yourself.” He ordered, viewing me with disbelief and I felt my heart breaking in my chest as I tried to push the invasive memory away. “The Ice Nation sent an assassin into somewhere that we considered a safe space. Your guard was down. You weren’t even armed! If you’d been in that room, chances are that you would be dead too. This wasn’t your fault.” He stressed this point, leaning closer as desperately tried to reach past my self-loathing and I felt the first of many tears escape my control.

“I gave up, Bellamy. I just ran out of the facility to save myself. I could’ve saved other people, but I didn’t. I only thought of myself.” I revealed, feeling disgusted as I shared this with the overpowering fear that he would never be able to see me the same way and instead, he surveyed me with a pained understanding.

“You made a difficult decision in an impossible situation. You shouldn’t be ashamed of wanting to live, Love.” He advised, squeezing my hand and I sniffed to contain the wave of tears that willed to flow down my cheeks. “You remember the first time that we had an honest chat? When you followed me into the woods after Atom died, and you almost collapsed, and found me totally losing my mind with guilt?” He recalled quietly, taking me back to an encounter that I had long forgotten and I nodded slowly in response, allowing him to continue.

“You were the one that pointed out that we weren’t trained to make these choices. You told me that I would make mistakes, but that it would allow me to learn. We’ve both made a lot of mistakes since we landed here and we’ve become better survivors from it. At heart though, we’re still those same kids with no training. We’re doing the best that we can. I promise you, the best thing to do in that situation was to live, because we need you. I need you.” He spoke from the heart, reaching out to brush a tear from my cheek with such tenderness that it caused the dam inside me to break and I took a sharp breath as the emotion exploded out of me.

“I couldn’t save her.” I gasped in remorse, finally allowing the true depth of my pain to show and Bellamy shushed me gently. “I tried so hard. I didn’t know what to do. I tried to put pressure on the wounds, and-and I wanted to carry her to medical, but she wouldn’t let me. I really tried to help her and she still died in my arms. I couldn’t save her, Bellamy!” I cried as sobs wracked my chest causing another wave of pain and he pulled me to him.

It was hard to breathe as I wept against his chest, my still recovering lungs struggling to manage the sharp breaths of my cries, but Bellamy simply held me close and smoothed my hair, allowing me an opportunity to fall apart. Whenever I felt this broken, I craved his comfort in a way that I couldn’t put into words and his embrace melted away all of the outside influences that pressed down on me until it was just him and I.

“I know that you did everything you could. You always do. Sometimes it’s just not enough. You can’t blame yourself.” He soothed as he reasoned with my frazzled mind and although logically I knew that he was right, I felt that it would likely take some time before I was able to believe it for myself.

Time passed without my notice as I waited for my emotions to become manageable and Bellamy remained patiently holding me, content to allow me all of the time that I needed with him. 

The warmth of his body gradually calmed me and eventually, I noticed that my eyes were stinging with tiredness again. The weight of the anaesthetic still hung over me and as I sat back to look up at him, he gave me a concerned look.

“It looks like you could do with some rest.” He remarked with a subtle sense of worry as I laid back on my pillow with a drowsy head and he lovingly pushed my fuzzy hair behind my ears, his touch lingering on the side of my face. “I’ll come back later to check on you.” He breathed as he moved to stand, but I grabbed his hand in a desperate bid for him to stay, clinging onto him with all the strength that I could muster.

Bellamy paused, looking back down at me from his towering height with a sympathetic smile and I battled to keep my eyes open, unwilling to be parted from him yet. After a few moments of consideration, he returned to sitting on the bed and placed a hand back on my forehead, tracing tender circles on my skin.

“Alright. I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” He conceded, observing me with such fondness that it made my heart swell and I released a small sigh of contentment. “I still need to read you to sleep, afterall.” He added with a smirk and as a smile filled my lips at the idea, I found myself drifting to sleep.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

When I next woke, it was to an empty bed and the ward was almost totally quiet other than Jackson, who was completing paperwork nearby whilst also keeping an eye on me. It was as if Abby and him expected me to dramatically bolt out of here at any moment, ensuring that I was guarded at all times, but I honestly didn’t have the strength to escape from anywhere at the moment. 

Though I wondered where Bellamy had got to, I knew that I was trapped in this bed for now and would need to come to terms with it sooner or later.

I sighed in frustration, looking around for something that could occupy my frantic mind when I noticed a book sitting on the table beside me with a note on the front. The moment that I gripped it, I recognised Bellamy’s scruffy handwriting and a smile filled my face.

I KNOW I PROMISED TO READ THIS TO YOU, BUT I THOUGHT YOU MIGHT NEED SOMETHING TO DO TO KEEP YOU OUT OF MISCHIEF. READ THIS AND REST, MY TROUBLE. B x

Peeling the note from the cover revealed the copy of The Iliad that I had gifted him recently and I appreciated how thoughtful a gesture this was. With little else to occupy me, I fidgeted into a comfortable position and lost myself in the book.

As I absorbed the story, I could just imagine a young Bellamy with his mop of curly hair and adorable freckles, enthralled by the adventures in the pages. The idea caused a sense of happiness that helped to push away the weight of my grief and for a while, I was relaxed. So relaxed, in fact, that I didn’t notice the sound of the doors, or the person approaching, until they cleared their throat and startled me.

“Oh, Kane. You scared me!” I gasped, gripping my chest with a genuine anxiety as I panted and he held his hands up in surrender.

“My apologies.” He commented, glancing down at the book with amusement and I used Bellamy’s note as a bookmark before closing it. “I thought I would check how you were doing. Abby tells me that it was touch and go for a while?” He clarified, settling casually in a seat beside the bed and I gulped at the thought of another lecture.

“I’m okay.” I answered quietly, meeting his eyes with a nervous feeling and wondering if I could survive another talk on my foolish behaviour. “I know that what I did was stupid and irresponsible-”

“I’m not here to punish you. From what I understand, your Chancellor already beat me to it.” He remarked lightly, a playful smile dancing across his face and I breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought that I would update you on the events of the Summit, if you’re feeling up to it?” He offered in his usual wise demeanour and I nodded fervently, pleased that he still addressed me with the same sense of value, even when I felt completely broken and helpless.

“Please. All anyone wants to talk about is how much of an idiot I’ve been.” I grumbled, allowing myself to indulge in a moment of self pity and he chuckled under his breath. “No one has told me anything. What’s our situation?”

“We have become the thirteenth clan in the Commander’s coalition, officially recognised as Skaikru.” He began, causing my mouth to drop open in shock and he rolled up his sleeve to reveal a large brand on his forearm that represented our unity. “Lexa knew that The Ice Nation wished to kill her and she planned to show the coalition that she had acquired Wanheda’s power, without being forced to kill Clarke. We completed the joining process just before Bellamy and the others burst in.” He explained, with every word he spoke further blowing my mind and I struggled to wrap my head around everything that he had just told me.

“Did the Commander have any insight on the attack on Mount Weather?” I managed to form a single question as the puzzle pieces assembled in my mind and he studied me as if he were gauging my reaction.

“The Ice Nation claimed responsibility for the attack at the Summit. Lexa arrested the entire delegation and has vowed to support us in avenging the attack. Indra just confirmed that she will send the Trikru army to protect Arkadia, to ensure that we cannot be ambushed.” He reported in a matter of fact tone and I shifted uneasily, recalling how quickly she had retracted her word at Mount Weather. “Clarke has remained in Polis as Skaikru’s ambassador in the War Council, to ensure that our interests are represented.” He added and I felt a frown immediately cross my face in response to this revelation.

“Clarke?! That’s a mistake.” I blurted, another wave of shock washing over me and Kane raised his brows in question. “I get it. She’s been living as a grounder for all of this time and she facilitated the original alliance with them to get us out of Mount Weather. But you don’t know her like I do. With all due respect, Sir, I think that your view of Clarke is likely biased, because of your rel-friendship with Abby.” I stated, causing him to smile again and it seemed that as usual, he was amused by my brutal honesty.

“If you have concerns about Clarke’s suitability for this role, then I’d like to hear them.” He offered calmly, leaning forward in his seat to place his elbows on his lap and though I had expected him to be offended by my statement, I was glad to find that he was open to discussion.

“Clarke might be living their lifestyle now, but the moment that something doesn’t go her way, she’ll expect the Commander to abandon their rules to accommodate her. In our old camp, I saw her insist on democracy, which only resulted in a majority vote against her plans and she just went behind everyone’s back to continue with her own agenda anyway. Once Clarke has decided to do something, no one else’s opinion matters. Believe me, that attitude doesn’t work in a culture as rigid as the grounders. The first thing that I was taught with Arlo is that you follow orders without question. Clarke is physically incapable of doing that.” I rambled, not hesitating to express my full opinion and Kane smiled proudly at me.

“I appreciate your honesty on this, Indigo. Unfortunately, there is no one else that Lexa respects as she does Clarke and so we will have to rely on her to prove you wrong if we are to stand any chance of surviving this conflict with The Ice Nation. However, knowing your concerns will help us to anticipate any problems.” He remarked finally and I sighed in disappointment, anxiety settling in my stomach at the idea of Clarke sitting in a war council with the very real potential to cause carnage.

“Well, at least the Commander knows everything now. Azgeda are no longer working from the shadows and we have her support.” I conceded, deciding to focus on the positives for now and Kane nodded slowly as he processed my words.

“There is something else that I thought you should now.” He declared, seeming as if he were reluctant to discuss this next topic and I thinned my eyes at him suspiciously. “Bellamy returned his guard jacket to me earlier today. Apparently, he feels as if he is at fault for those we lost at Mount Weather. He doesn’t think that he deserves to be a guard any longer. Usually, I wouldn’t interfere in personal matters like this, but I have a gut feeling that he hasn’t told you about this decision and I hoped that you might be able to talk some sense into him?” He suggested in an uncomfortable manner and I felt my eyes widen in shock, hardly able to believe that he would keep something of this severity from me. 

Recalling our earlier conversation, I felt immensely guilty for burdening Bellamy with my own grief when he was already blaming himself for the outcome of Azgeda’s plot and I felt a lump rising in my throat as I thought of him viewing himself in this manner. The wisdom and ease of the advice that he had given in defence of me made sense now that I knew he had already decided that the responsibility laid at his feet and I was hurt that he had put his own feelings aside to listen to me, instead of confiding in me.

“No, actually. He didn’t tell me.” I whispered, fidgeting with my hands nervously and Kane nodded slowly in understanding. “Thank you for letting me know. I will definitely speak to him about it.” I confirmed, forcing a polite smile and he seemed relieved that he might potentially be able to return Bellamy to his post.

“Well, I should get going. There is a memorial starting soon for those lost in Mount Weather.” Kane announced as he rose to his feet reluctantly, seeming as if he was exhausted too and I felt myself straighten up slightly at this revelation.

“Wait. I want to come.” I blurted, staring up at him with a sense of desperation and he studied me sceptically, clearly unable to believe that I would be able to manage it in my current condition. “I know that I need to rest. I’ll be careful and I’ll come straight back after. I just really need this. I was with Gina when she-” I cut myself off abruptly, unsure of how to explain exactly what I had experenced and Kane sighed heavily as he considered me.

“I don’t have the authority to allow you to leave. It’s a medical decision.” He stated regretfully and I felt my shoulders drop in disappointment. “Fortunately, I’m rather close with your doctor. I’ll speak to Abby now. As long as she agrees for you to go, I’ll ask Bellamy to come and collect you.” He added with a sly smile and I felt my face light up in appreciation.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

Bellamy was quiet when he arrived and though I was alarmed by this, I was quickly distracted when I realised that he had thought to bring me some fresh clothes. He helped me to change into them delicately, before I placed the jacket that had once been his over the top and he chuckled at me for this. I held onto his arm for stability and once Jackson was content that I would be able to manage the walk, we carefully left medical.

As I clung to Bellamy’s bare arm, I noticed that he truly wasn’t wearing his guard jacket any longer and remembered my conversation with Kane in unease.

“You’re not wearing your jacket?” I enquired as casually as possible as we moved delicately through the halls of the Ark and Bellamy sighed slightly, revealing his discomfort at my question.

“Yeah. It got damaged.” He excused in a distracted manner and I could tell that he was struggling to think of a way out of the conversation. “ I need to get a new one. It’s not really a priority at the moment, though.” He reported, glancing down at me with a smile to subtly suggest that caring for me was far more important and I felt my stomach lurch as I realised that he had no intention of telling me that he had quit the guard.

We spent the rest of the walk in silence as my thoughts swirled, fearful over his secretive attitude and I was anxious that he had tried to keep me from the memorial too. It was obvious that he was suffering with guilt, but for whatever reason, he didn’t want my support with it and I hated the thought of him isolating himself with this.

Bellamy led me into the main dining space, where rows of chairs had been set up and tables were lined up at the front for people to leave items. The room was already full of grieving people waiting for the service to start and I could feel the weight of emotion in the air. He guided me into a seat beside him at the end of a row and immediately I began fiddling with my hands due to anxiety.

It wasn’t long before people began to present their tributes for their loved ones and I felt myself shaking as I considered all of the lives that were lost in the attack. Though it was challenging, I was glad that I had forced myself to attend to face it and I knew that this would be the hardest step of my journey to forgiveness. Each speech was heart-breaking to listen to, but I considered it my atonement for not attempting to save them and held myself together despite the storm of emotions in my mind.

My breath caught in my throat as Raven struggled her way to the front and Bellamy took my hand for support, sensing my distress. Her face was already red from tears and she appeared as if she hadn’t slept at all since we returned home. My heart ached for her as I had a unique insight into the pain that she was experiencing and I respected her strength as I compared it to my breakdown in Mount Weather quarantine.

“Gina was kind. She always put everyone else first, sharing love and compassion with anyone who needed it.” Raven began, her hands trembling as she read from a piece of paper and I knew that she was battling to make it through her speech. “She had incredible patience and no matter how hard I tried to push her away, she always stayed at my side. I never appreciated her for how wonderful she was, but I will make sure that she was remembered for it. Gina deserved better.” She finished with a tear rolling down her cheek and sniffed to contain the rest.

Rolling up the paper, Raven reached a shaking hand into her pocket and pulled out a keychain. Though many might have missed it, I noticed the pained reluctance in the way that she tenderly placed it down amongst the other items, as if she were unsure if she was truly ready to part with it and I remembered my insane attachment to the jacket that I currently wore with sympathy. I leaned my face onto Bellamy’s shoulder for comfort as tears of my own escaped my demeanour and he squeezed my arm in silent support.

Before the next name could be honoured, a group of guards entered and bypassed Kane and Abby to report directly to Pike in hushed voices. This made my back stiffen as I thinned my eyes at them suspiciously and I felt Bellamy tense too beside me. 

As I scanned the people gathered here, it was clear that the guards arrival had caused a ripple amongst everyone and a feeling of dread settled in my stomach.

It was difficult to hear the conversation that was taking place, but I was sure that I heard a mention of grounders and the way that Pike looked over at our leadership only strengthened my belief in that. He approached them to repeat the information, causing me to feel uncomfortable with his new role of negotiator between the guards and Chancellor that I felt allowed a prime opportunity for manipulation.

“You gave a grounder one of our radios?” Pike stated accusingly, raising his voice for everyone else to hear and I had the distinct feeling that this was no accident, but rather a tactical decision to gain support.

“Sir. Are we under attack?”

A voice called from the crowd who were already murmuring restlessly and though I looked to Bellamy for reassurance, his focus was strictly set on Pike. People began to stand as the feeling of panic spread and I could sense the threat of impending chaos, sending my adrenaline into overdrive.

“No. We are not under attack.” Kane announced as he rose to address the concerned citizens, holding his hands out in an attempt to calm the delicate situation. “The Commander sent a peacekeeping force to ensure that we can defend against any further attacks from The Ice Nation.” He confirmed as he battled the incredibly fragile balance of power that we all knew was hanging on by a thread.

“Peace keeping force?!” Pike spat in disbelief, growing more irate by the second despite the inappropriate timing of this conversation. “Even you can’t be that naive, Marcus!” He yelled, further feeding the tension in the room as more of the crowd stood from their seats and I noticed with confusion that Raven was staring at Bellamy with rage bubbling her face, before returning my face to our leaders.

“Watch your tongue!” Abby warned as she fixed Pike with a stern stare. “You’re talking to the next Chancellor.” She announced and I raised my brows in surprise, having clearly missed this information when I was in recovery. “We’re all grieving. This has been hard on all of us, but we can’t let anger drive our policy.”

“Anger is our policy.” Pike yelled, gaining cheers of support from the watching audience and he used this momentum to step up onto a nearby surface to rally his people. “Now, if they’re here to defend us as you say, then tell them to go home. We can defend ourselves!” He argued, pointing down at Abby disrespectfully and I was struck by how much his attitude reminded me of Bellamy in our first few days on Earth.

In a moment of clarity, his admiration for the man made sense and I realised that Pike represented a simpler time for Bellamy that had been lost in the more nuanced lifestyle that we lived now. We had to consider alliances and politics in our current days, instead of simply focusing on day to day survival as we did in our dropship camp and I could understand why Bellamy would be drawn to the patriotic nature of Pike’s approach. However, this idea frightened me and I knew that I needed to publicly oppose Pike, just as I once had my lover, rising to my feet with a fierce glare.

“You fought against Azgeda warriors for months. How did that work out for you? Lose many people?” I began, drawing his attention as he viewed me with disgust and I crossed my arms defensively. “Believe me when I tell you, those fights were nothing compared to the force of their army. Without the help of Trikru, Azgeda will obliterate us. We stood with Trikru before against the mountain. These people that the Commander sends to protect us are our allies, not our enemies!” I advised, turning to speak to the people that were gathered with hope that I might be able to turn the rising tide, but my words fell on deaf ears due to the suffocating grief that hung over everyone here.

“Miss Sloan. Why don’t you remind us how you were rescued from the mountain?” Pike argued, his face growing smug as he knew that I would have to confirm that the army was not responsible for our rescue and I had a horrible feeling that my statement had only aided his cause. “The grounders abandoned us then and they will do it again. They can’t be trusted.”

“You.” One of the members of Farm Station pointed directly at Lincoln in an aggressive manner and my jaw clenched in anger. “You don’t belong here.” He accused, viewing him with an entirely undeserved hatred and I could hardly believe that things were deteriorating so quickly between our people.

“Then I guess I don’t either!” I declared, moving to shuffle past Bellamy so that I could stand beside Lincoln in support, but before I could even exit the row of seating, the situation continued to worsen.

“He’s one of them!” The ring leader yelled, rapidly prompting similar statements to be yelled by the crowd and it was clear that people were jumping on the opportunity to rid the camp of the person that they viewed as an outsider, already forgetting everything that Lincoln had done for us.

Bellamy rose to his feet to grab my arm, holding me in place protectively and whilst I was distracted by attempting to shake him off, the confrontation escalated to violence. The man who had begun this conflict threw a rock at Lincoln, which struck his head with a worrying impact and Bellamy was the first to leap into action as the Farm Station resident moved to attack Lincoln.

In no time at all, a fight erupted between people loyal to Kane and Abby, and Farm station, and although my mind was exploding with rage, my body could not keep up. My legs shook weakly as I struggled to remain upright and I had to lean on a chair to steady myself as the room spun around me.

I noticed Abby hurrying past me, working her way around the edge of the chaos to reach Lincoln, when the sound of a loud whistle drew my attention. 

“Hey!” Pike bellowed loudly enough to bring everything to a halt and I was pleased to notice that some of our original guards from before we discovered Farm Station had leapt into action to pin down the instigators. “We do not attack our own! Fighting each other only makes us weak. The enemy is not in this camp. The enemy is out there!” He gestured to the gates and I glanced over at Lincoln to notice that he refused help from Abby, who called after him that he needed to go to Medical as he stormed out.

“You’re right. The enemy is out there. And it’s Azgeda. It’s not Trikru and it’s not Lincoln.” I clarified loudly, using what little energy had left to defend my family with passion and Bellamy nodded in support.

“Sir. We need to arrest that man responsible for this assault. Lincoln is one of us.” Bellamy advised, fortunately addressing Kane rather than Pike and before I could praise him for this, Raven interrupted with a loud scoff.

“How like you to immediately defend the grounder.” She spat, glaring at Bellamy with such venom that it shocked us and we both stared at her with confusion. “You’ve got some brass even being here when you’re the reason that they’re all dead.” She accused, moving closer to instigate an argument and I struggled my way over to them to calm things before another fight broke out.

“What are you talking about?” Bellamy investigated, forcing his voice into an even tone despite the emotional turmoil that I knew he was covering and I could see the hurt in his eyes as he regarded her.

“You told us to stay whilst you went to the Summit. You were the one who vouched for that grounder, even though you knew that she was Ice Nation. Even your girlfriend wasn’t sure about trusting her, but you did it anyway and you nearly got her killed too! You practically served us up on a fucking platter for the grounders. It wasn’t enough for you, killing everyone in Mount Weather once, was it? You just had to do it again!” She yelled, stepping forward to push his chest aggressively and Miller rushed over to restrain her, his movements careful so that he wouldn’t hurt her.

“I’ll never forgive you! It’s your fault that Gina is dead! You took everything from me!” She screamed, manically fighting against Miller as she tried to attack and Bellamy simply stared at her in stunned silence, frozen to the spot in horror.

“That’s enough, Raven. You’re only making things worse!” I snapped, stepping between them with a false strength as I faced her down and I was able to catch a glimpse of the broken person that hid beneath Raven’s rage. “Gina wouldn’t want you to do this and you know it. Take a walk.” I advised calmly, causing her anger to dissolve into pain and she shook Miller’s grip from her shoulders to march out of the room shamefully.

The moment that the conflict was over, I felt as if I might collapse. Noticing my sudden vulnerability as I turned back to face him, Bellamy gripped my arms to keep me from falling and I stared up at him with an apologetic expression.

“Baby. You know none of that was true, right?” I whispered, encouraging him to meet my eyes and the way that he nodded was as if he were simply brushing off my concern, rather than actually absorbing my reassurances. “She’s hurting and she lashed out. It doesn’t make it okay and it definitely doesn’t make her right. Don’t let her get in your head.” I insisted, already terrified that she had only intensified his guilt and his face revealed how much her words had hurt him.

“I’ve got some things to wrap up here and then I’ll get you back to Medical.” He answered flatly as if he were simply reciting a well practiced line and I sighed in disappointment, hating that he was pushing me away.

“It’s alright. I’m gonna find Lincoln and see if I can get him to go with me.” I suggested, already keen to make sure that his injury was treated and Bellamy nodded in agreement. “Come and see me when you’re done. Please.” I instructed, flashing him a supportive smile and his only response was a slight hum as he strode away from me, leaving me with an empty feeling in my stomach.

Grabbing a clean piece of fabric from nearby, I made my way outside and tried to push aside my anxiety as I focused on searching for Lincoln.

[braindamageforbeginners]

A Return to the Abyssal Plains

Week 9, Day 64

So, I’m back in the abyss for more abuse/treatment (more on that in a moment), but, in keeping with the grand re-launch (re-sinking?) of this project, as I go into the year-long chemo regimen - which promises to be miserable, but it definitely beats the alternatives - I thought it might help keep me focused (at least for this post) to affirm the grand goal of this little project (to any long-time readers, don’t worry, this will still serve as a black-box recording of my ongoing descent). To recap; I just finished the initial stage of post-surgical treatment for brain cancer/malignant tumors, with the added bonus of participating in an experimental chemo trial (specifically, I’m being tested for safety and side-effects)(I’m hoping that one of the side-effects is to give me superpowers, so I refer to it as the Captain America serum), with a drug designed to prevent tumor recurrence (that’s what it’s being tested for, anyway). So, yesterday was the start of the first chemo cycle - out of 12 (each cycle is 28 days, so I’m now on the Chinese calendar), and it seemed as good a time as any to double down on the madness.

For all new readers, I tend to use the overarching metaphor of being in the abyssal plains - which is what a cancer diagnosis feels like, it’s like being banished to some horrifying, dark reality; particularly as you realize that your life is now governed by factors over which you have virtually no control.. And, in cancer, sometimes the best move you can make is simply to exist (to live) until some better treatment or opportunity comes along that you can seize upon. There will be a lot of squid metaphors.

However, if I may mix metaphors (a side-effect of the chemo is that you tend to lose focus and get forgetful, so I’ll meander quite a bit)(good news; based on my experience, that’s a temporary side-effect), at the moment, there is a sensation that I’m in “Mad Max: The Sit-com.” Sure, from your perspective, I’m in a horrible, shitty situation (and I am, make no mistake; I won’t deny that for a second), but, at the same time, you people don’t know how great it feels to race across the desert at 200 miles per hour, and you’ll never know how great lady fingers are. Yes, that was a bad cannibalism joke (NOTE TO SELF: include more cannibalism references, especially as it pertains to squid biology). There will be more cannibalism jokes. And bad language (if ever there was a time to creatively use the word “fuck,” it’s after you hear the words “Stave IV”)  If those things offend you, I apologize, but life down here is not for the faint of heart.

Speaking of cannibalism, swearing, and the faint of heart, I was chided a few months ago by my step-mother for relying on shock value in my writing. Which is a little odd, since she pointed out that the original fairy tales told to children were the stuff of nightmares, and they were told to children not to inspire them or entertain, but to prepare them. I see myself in the same light; I’m just your glow-in-the-dark tour guide to the depths, and I’ll do my best to impart all the stuff I wish I’d known at the beginning. Or, given there’s a solid chance I’ll die in the near-future, I’ll leave a record behind of what not to do. Perspective and context are everything in the depths. And, when I talk about you being a future cancer patient, that’s not me being emo or dark, that’s just a basic, unfortunate truth. Even though I’m far from expert, I do have a little bit of a formal background in molecular biology and physiology; and, if you live long enough, you will accumulate enough cellular damage in one cell for it go rogue (and then you have cancer). That’s dark and depressing, but it’s an unfortunate truth about how our biology is set up. If we were intelligently designed by a grand creator, we weren’t designed very well.

And if my numbering system seems macabre, well, that’s all perspective. Part of that is to help me keep track of my numerous appointments, infusions, and chemo treatments. The other part is somewhat darker; median life expectancy for glioblastoma stage IV patients is 14 months . Obviously, my new life goal is to go for the record in terms of survival, but at the moment, the number to beat is 426 days (the ultimate goal 1825 days; if you go that long without a recurrence, you’re considered “cured”)(not exactly, but if you make it that long, the odds of a recurrence are about the same as brain cancer occurrence in the general population). This is my way of keeping score against the disease.

I woke up this morning, which, in retrospect was a tactical mistake. The biggest, most-noticeable side-effect of the Captain America serum is severe fatigue and muscle pain (for me, anyway), and the nastiest, Keith Richards-level hangovers imaginable. (which, I suppose, is my comeuppance for experimenting with dangerous, unproven substances instead something tamer and safer, like heroin). My mom is freaking out about this, and I’m not much happier, but desperate times do call for desperate measures (and, hey, it’s been very successful over the past few months). But, good news for you guys (or bad, depending on how you look at it), since my new schtick - when I’m feeling miserable - is to sit at the keyboard and let the blood flow into it, you’ll start seeing increased writing output as I feel worse. I’m almost hopeful that I’ll get a terminal diagnosis (I will, eventually; we all will, eventually) just to see what my twisted mind would write (again, I’m a very, very strange person).

Which brings me to the point of this post; when you get cancer, you’re going to be asked/required to undergo a lot of unpleasant, painful, horrible procedures and medicines. Yes, you will have to inject toxic, dangerous substances into your body. You might be flash-fried (see the archives for my entries while I was in radiation treatment if you’re curious about that). Strangers will cut out pieces of you. My advice, based on the last 8 weeks is, just do it. Pop every pill you’re prescribed, get strapped down and nuked, ask the chemo nurses if you can get a margarita while you’re in the chemo chair. I’m not going to lie; it’s going to be miserable, but you do it, because it beats the alternatives. Speaking of the kind of misery you can expect, there’s a very old-school cancer treatment axiom that states that anything that makes the patient stronger, makes the cancer stronger, too (this is reductive, but biologically accurate). Modern cancer treatment has a much lighter-touch than the things you see in the Lifetime TV movies on the subject, but there are still a lot of patients in the waiting room that look like Holocaust survivors. Again, I’d advise you to wade in and join them; conventional cancer treatments are like democracy, empirical science, or capitalism - the only thing to recommend them is that they’re slightly better than the other systems we’ve tried over the centuries (and even then, there’s no guarantees, which is a very, very scary feeling). Don’t get squirrelly and start overexerting what little agency you have left by playing around with your pills or testing the limits of the doctor’s orders/recommendations. I’ve heard of patients who try skipping their zofran, which puzzled me - when you’re in chemo, this is the drug that prevents nausea and puking, and there are very few side effects. Which is not to say that you should mindlessly accept everything as it happens; bring up concerns, issues, and problems with your medical team, but I’d say that once you receive your marching orders, embrace them. Again, as of yesterday, there were no detectable growths or tumors or metastasis, which is great, but I was also a model patient for the last eight weeks. But that’s just me; I have a long ways to go, yet; and there’s still a frighteningly high chance this could all go to hell tomorrow. There’s a distinct chance of that one, since I have to go see Radiation Oncologist tomorrow afternoon to confirm my brains haven’t melted (again, you think I’m joking, look up “necrosis” - it’s a major risk/side-effect of radiation treatment).

ANYWAY… WEIGHT: 213 lb (as of yesterday, anyway) CONCENTRATION: Not bad, I’m still making calls and wading through paperwork, but I’m definitely not at 100%. APPETITE: Not great. I’m eating and I’m hungry now, but starting off the day with a double-dose of Temodar and Warlock juice (which was yesterday, but the side-effects drag on for about 48 hours after the injection) definitely put a dent in my appetite (thank Great Kraken for Zofran). ACTIVITY LEVEL: Bad. I’m exhausted (fatigue is another chemo side-effect I’m well-acquainted with) and just being upright is not fun. SLEEP QUALITY: Excellent. I slept nine hours straight, which is probably why I woke up feeling like Alice Cooper’s liver (another tip for cancer patients, when you’re on chemo, hydrate like a marathon runner; which means getting up once or twice in the night for a glass of water). COORDINATION/DEXTERITY: A bit off, although, as Mom pointed out, hemiparesis is a side-effect of Temodar (it’s a side-effect of the surgery and radiation, too, so there’s plenty of suspects). MEMORY: Not too bad, although I haven’t had any tasks that required extensive memory use today. PHYSICAL: I started the day off miserably - physically speaking - and have slowly improved over the course of the day. I’m still trying to cut back on my Tylenol and caffeine usage (at the recommendation of my medical team), but you’d better believe it’s taking a lot of willpower not to relapse (it helps that the Tylenol and coffee are over there, in the kitchen, and right now I’m too tired to walk that far). SIDE EFFECTS: Fatigue, muscle pain, and hang-over/flu symptoms, but those are par for the course at this point. Good news, if this plays out like the other injections, I can look forward to some really freaky and intense dreams in the next day or two.  

[eat-a-mint-jungkook]

Forget everything you know about love

Husbands!Jikook, 10k of angsty crack + fluff fluff fluff 

For we cannot love something we do not remember, but maybe forgetting was the solution to all of Jungkook’s problems.

A/N: From this request; hope you like it!

A left, another left, a right, and then a left. Or was it left, right, left, left?

Jungkook doesn't have time to worry about that as he races down the hall, each tick of the clocks in the hospital, each quickening beat of his heart feeling like it might be the last. Like it might be too late.

Room two twenty-four, two twenty-five... screw it.

Jungkook bursts through the door a millisecond before he could process that it was indeed the correct number, but is given confirmation by the figure seemingly drowning beneath the white sheets.

He was pale. An IV drip attached to one arm. There were a few patches of faint yellow from the bruising. But amidst the faint beeping in the background and the smell of disinfectants much too strong, he was still the same Jimin that Jungkook had always known.

"Jimin—" Jungkook cuts himself off, part of him afraid that he'd regret whatever tumbled out of his mouth in such a distraught state, and the other part of him not even knowing what to say.

Jimin, I'm so sorry...please don't hate me.

Jungkook keeps his head bowed, avoiding the look of hatred that he expected from his husband.

"Um...hi?"

But as he looks up and sees that strangely empty look in Jimin's eyes, he knows that something isn't quite right.

"Jimin? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." A pause that feels much too long. "Sorry, um, could you tell me who you are?" he asks, eyebrows furrowed and lips curling down into a frown. "Were you someone important to me?"

Perhaps it was even worse than hatred. Was it just a prank? Was it his way of indirectly lashing out and making Jungkook's life hard? Could it even be possible that he had actually hit his head too hard and forgotten everything...?

"Wait, are you Jungkook?"

Jungkook can't help but stare blankly at the man. The man that once gazed back at him with such a range of emotions who now held nothing but that single question in his eyes.

He hadn't meant for things to turn out like this at all.

"Yes, I am." But what does that mean to you now?

Jimin lets out an audible sigh of relief, the tension slipping out from his shoulders. "Oh, good."

"Good?" Jungkook dumbly repeats back.

"You're the one that they keep talking about." Jimin fiddles with the sheets, not meeting his gaze. "We must've been pretty close and it's just comforting to have a friend here."

"Friend." Jungkook echoes back like a broken record.

That causes him to look up. "We weren't friends? Don't tell me we were married or something." The brunette now barks a laugh that shows he may have intended it to be a joke to break up the awkward atmosphere between them, but the words have already hit Jungkook directly in the heart. It was hard to think that this Jimin didn't know anything, that this wasn't his Jimin, but at the same time, it wasn't hard to imagine the real Jimin spewing hurtful words like this too.

It was a lose-lose situation and he wasn't sure which was worse—his Jimin, who no longer wanted anything to do with him, or this version now who saw him as no more than a stranger.

"Um...no." We're married but—no, I can't tell you anything like this. It's too quiet in the room even with the faint beeping of machines in the background and he could only hear his own heart pounding too painfully in his chest. "We were...um."

Jimin raises an eyebrow at that. "Hooking up? You can just say it, you know."

"No!" He feels his cheeks blaze at the mention, wanting nothing more than to run his fingers through Jimin's soft hair, to taste his lips and feel the way his breath fell against warm skin, to know that he was alive and that all of this was real. Yet he stands still with feet firmly planted, not trusting himself to get any closer to the one he once called his husband. "No, we were like... best friends. Uh, more than best friends."

"Were we dating?"

"Something like that."

"Hmm, that's interesting. I don't think I believed in dating."

Jungkook's attention snaps back to him. He remembers college-Jimin saying these words back in the day, long before they were anything more than just classmates.

Which meant it was either a terrible prank, or he really has no memory past his college days? No memory of Jungkook at all?

"Yeah, you didn't." Jungkook admits. "I'm not sure what happened." He chuckles awkwardly to hide the way he was slowly sinking, not knowing what to do, how to react, how to even take in the situation. What if Jimin never regained his memories and this new Jimin didn't like him at all? But what if he did recover his memories and then everything goes back to normal? Either way it seemed like he'd lose him again in the end.

"Then you must've been quite the guy." Jimin's tone is filled with a sort of ironic amusement, not quite skeptical or sarcastic, but not quite teasing either.

Jungkook stays quiet, shrugging slightly and forcing on a smile. It's like he was acting as odd as someone around their crush, or someone he was trying to impress.

Because that's basically what this came down to, right? He needed to convince Jimin, someone as distant as a stranger now, to fall in love with him before it was too late.

Too late for what? Jungkook doesn't exactly know but definitely doesn't want to think about that.

"So Jungkook, tell me about us."

~~~

Day two went a bit better after he was debriefed by the doctors. They said it was indeed some sort of head injury, and that memories may or may not be recovered. All they could do was monitor him from now and see which regions were affected and which memories had been lost.

"Um, so what would you like to know?" Jungkook asks, feeling the most uncomfortable in the small room. He was standing by the door, leaning against the wall. Crossing his arms. Then uncrossing them. Crossing his legs. Uncrossing them. Crossing them the other way.

His eyes dart to the window. To the machines against the wall. To the chair beside the bed. He'd already thought some of this through: no, he couldn't sit down there since it was too close to him. And you couldn't just sit beside a stranger so intimately like that.

It was Jimin who asked him to come in every day to catch him up on all the details that he's now missing. It seemed like Jimin's way of saying Don't give up on me. On us. But then again, maybe he was just bored of staying there all by himself, because who wouldn't be when they're stuck in a hospital bed?

Jimin coughs, pulling Jungkook out of his thoughts. "So how did we meet?"

Jungkook pastes a smile on his face and decides to sit down in that chair anyway.

The first days of a new semester in university when students were still keen on coming to class and excited to experience what becoming an adult was truly like—that was when they first met.

Jungkook had been that stubborn kid who sat in the same seat in every lecture, claiming it as his own and getting bitter whenever anyone had come close to taking it. The first few days were fine, but naturally, it grew more and more difficult to even show up to an early morning class. That is, until skipping one lecture resorted in coming back to see Jimin being the guy to take his seat.

From then on it'd been some sort of competition where Jungkook would try to go as early as possible to claim his seat. Jimin hadn't seemed to notice at all, though perhaps the first time he truly noticed was when Jungkook had accidentally stumbled into his lap while extremely sleep deprived and running on the nervous energy caffeine provided.

"Are you even in this class?" Jungkook had asked suspiciously, shifting to the seat right beside his competitor as it would've been too awkward to just walk away to the row behind him at this point. There was no choice but to acknowledge the unsaid competition.

"Why wouldn't I be?" The boy had fired back, the strangest look on his attractive face.

And being so sleep deprived, Jungkook had mumbled the first thing that came to mind. "But why would there be any hot guys in theoretical physics?"

The boy definitely hadn't been expecting that. Slightly taken aback and a hint of blush on his cheeks, he'd also just blurted something out. "Then why are you here?"

Attractive stranger just called him attractive. That had shut Jungkook up for the rest of that lecture.

They'd become seat buddies and then formed a study group and somewhere in between there'd been something more. It'd been easy from then on, naturally falling together at every point.

Jungkook stops speaking when he notices Jimin's furrowed brows, a crease in the center of his forehead.

"That's a really weird first meeting."

"Yeah, it was. How are you even believing me right now?" Then he pauses. "Wait, maybe I shouldn't have even told you about that; you probably think I'm a freaking weirdo now."

"Maybe that's how you caught my attention." Jimin laughs. "Besides, you were in theoretical physics. Clearly, you couldn't have been very normal."

"...that's true."

"But Jungkook?"

"Hmm?"

Jimin smiled, a familiar twinkle in his eyes. "I'm believing all this because I know I would still say the same thing right now."

And that left Jungkook wordless for a while because did attractive stranger-Jimin just call him attractive again?

~~~

"So you've been visiting him?" Taehyung says on the phone, voice concerned.

Jungkook pauses. Then sighs. "Yeah."

"And? How is that going?"

"I don't know, Tae. He can't really remember anything. He doesn't remember me."

"Oh." There's a good ten seconds of silence. "Well, are you going to tell him?"

"How can I? Tae, I don't know how this is going to go. Today I only said that we were like friends or dating or whatever it is that college kids do these days." He rubs his eyes forcefully, wanting to pretend that none of this was happening, that maybe he could just break time-space and actually go back to their college days.

"You aren't going to tell him that you're married?"

"Tae, I can't. He'll never forgive me."

"But Jungkook, you can't just hide something like this." Taehyung sounds like he's frowning. "He's going to find out eventually."

"Tae... please don't tell him. I-I just need some more time to figure this all out. Please."

A deep sigh. "Okay, I won't. But I can't guarantee Yoongi won't say anything though." He pauses. "But then again, he probably hates you enough that he won't even mention your name in front of Jimin at all."

Jungkook can't decide if he wants to laugh or cry. "Okay. Thanks, Tae."

"Good luck, bro."

~~~

Jungkook had somehow stayed for the entirety of visiting hours the day before just chatting with Jimin. It brought him back to their college times, when the most they'd have to worry about was passing the next midterm. It made him look forward to visiting the next day.

The bruises have changed colour into a deep purple now, but the swelling was mostly gone. There was more colour in his face, but the best part was the shy smile that appeared when Jungkook arrived.

He brought some of Jimin's stuff from the house today, setting it all down on the table nearby. It was a bag of clothes, with a couple of snacks hidden at the bottom which the nurses hopefully wouldn't find.

Then Jungkook sat down in the chair naturally.

"Tell me what our first date was like?"

Jungkook wasn't sure one would even consider it a first date, but it was a day that he'd always remember—not for how sweet or lovey-dovey it was, but for how embarrassed he'd felt.

First term finals had come and gone, and with that, the start of winter break marked a season of splurging for celebrating students. Jimin had taken him to a cozy bubble tea cafe that'd just opened nearby.

"How is this lovely couple doing today?" the waiter asked, smiling so widely at the two of them that it almost looked like a sarcastic expression. "Here are the menus for you guys—oh just so you know, we're having a Christmas special for couples this week. You can pick anything off the couple's menu at the back for a discounted price."

"Thanks," Jungkook glanced at the waiter's nametag, "Taehyung."

"No problem! If you need anything, just let me know. You guys are super cute, by the way." A wink.

The discounts may have sounded appealing at one point, but Jungkook didn't even know if he wanted it anymore because of how awkward the entire situation was becoming.

"So...how rude would it be if we just left right now?" Jungkook asked, eyeing the counter warily.

Jimin had been strangely silent throughout the whole exchange, an unreadable expression on his face and bottom lip between his teeth. "As long as we never come back—"

"Hey! Here's some water to get the lovely couple started. You guys weren't about to leave, right? That would be unfortunate." Taehyung came back with two glasses of water, placing them on the small table between them.

Jungkook waited until the odd server left before whispering to Jimin, "How did he know? Were we too loud?"

"He—" Jimin bit his lip again, expression turning sheepish. "Just ignore whatever he says."

"Hmm..." Jungkook couldn't help but feel his heart sink a little bit. He didn't know what he'd been hoping for, but hearing it felt somewhat like a rejection.

They'd ended up ordering something from the couples' menu anyway, with Jimin muttering something about their server getting the most commission from this section after Taehyung enthusiastically introduced all of the dishes. Jungkook had agreed all too easily.

The rest of the night had passed by almost too quickly. Everything had almost seemed normal except for Jungkook constantly feeling quite self-conscious with the waiter watching them from somewhere in the cafe, and Jimin's laughter being more muted than usual.

The food was good, though. It almost made him forget about everything else.

"Thank you!" The waiter said when they got up to go. "Not going to end off a great date with a kiss?"

That's when Jimin had had enough and shoved Taehyung lightly, though the latter was completely unsuspecting of it and ended up pushed into the counter.

"Hey! What was that—"

It all happened too quickly but the next thing he knew, Jimin was dragging Jungkook out the door, a hand gripped tightly onto his own, and they were running down the block in the snow.

Cold wind was whipping his face with only the adrenaline keeping him warm and then when Jimin turned to him with a mischievous laugh, Jungkook was suddenly feeling really giddy at how things turned out. Perhaps Jimin had gone a little far, but the way he glowed and the light flush on his cheeks said it was all worth it.

They finally stopped running once they were a few blocks away, no longer with the risk of having Taehyung chase after them or something.

"You know...he wasn't wrong, though. It was a good date," Jimin murmured.

"It was."

"So you get this, I guess." He kissed his finger tips and then pressed them to Jungkook's cheek softly.

Jungkook shakes himself out of his thoughts before he could be fully pulled back into those memories. "Yeah so in conclusion, your friend, Taehyung, who I had thought was some creepy rando who just worked there, was the one who started everything." He shifts gingerly on the metal folding chair, butt uncomfortable from sitting so long.

Jimin has to stop his laughter to catch his breath. "Don't worry, I killed him for that afterwards."

"Yeah, you should've—" Jungkook has to stop to process what Jimin had just said as it sounded funny. "Wait what?"

"I mean, I must've, right?"

Jungkook snorts, waving it off. "Considering how much you still hate him for that, yeah probably."

~~~

Jungkook started going back to work but despite that, he felt better than he had in weeks. All because he started looking forward to his daily visits where he gets to see Jimin.

"What would you like to know today?" Jungkook asks as he goes to set down the snacks he brought on the table. He stopped by the grocery store on his way there and bought some of Jimin's favourites despite of what the doctors had been saying. Hospital food must be terrible after all.

"Hmm," Jimin gives him a certain look, smirk settling onto his mouth.

"What?" Jungkook stares at him through narrowed eyes. "Please don't make me talk about anything embarrassing."

Jimin raises an eyebrow. "Well, I don't think it could get much worse than yesterday's story."

"Oh my god. Don't bring that up ever again."

"Then tell me about our first kiss."

Jungkook nods, sitting down beside the bed as he refuses to acknowledge the furious blush creeping up his neck.

Nothing had happened after that incident, almost as if the two of them both were furiously pretending that nothing had happened. Things went back to a normal flow between the two of them, and soon, the second semester resumed and midterms came back in full swing.

The day before their thermodynamics midterm was when Jimin had brought him over to his apartment because there had been absolutely no space on campus to study. The apartment was close enough to the school so it didn't take much effort to relocate their study date.

Only, it was Jimin's poor (or devious) planning skills that caused the series of events to spur from there.

"Wait you don't have a couch or a breakfast table...?" Jungkook had asked as he took a quick glance around Jimin's small apartment. It was pretty bare and didn't appear to be habited at all.

"Yeah...no. I don't really spend much time here."

"Um, where should we study then?"

Jimin's bedroom was even smaller, with only a simple bed, cabinet, and desk filling the space. Maybe that should've been enough of a warning that the bed was not an ideal place to study on.

Notebooks and binders sprawled across the sheets surrounded Jungkook as he attempted to derive Schrodinger's equation again after failing too many times. And being a physics student, maybe he should've realized that the momentum of Jimin's weight on the bed beside him might make them collide and be infinitely close to each other. But maybe that's exactly what Jimin had planned in the first place.

So when Jungkook called him over to look at where his derivation went wrong, everything happened at once and Jimin's forehead ended up crashing into his jaw, quite painfully.

"Omfh," the shorter boy had pulled away just slightly, examining Jungkook's face with light touches while the rest of his body remained pressed against Jungkook's. "Sorry, are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, fine."

Jungkook couldn't help but notice the warmth radiating from Jimin and how his body fit so nicely against his side. It was too nice to shift away even though he was feeling so self-conscious with Jimin's every movement—propping his elbow on Jungkook's thigh, leaning against his shoulder...

It stayed silent between them as Jimin checked over his derivations, until he suddenly turned to ask something. "Hey Jungkook?"

"Mhm?"

"If you never reveal to your crush that you like them, then does your crush really like you back?"

That made Jungkook fully stop what he was doing just to process the words. "What?"

"Well, if there's never an observation made, then theoretically there'd still be two universes superimposed on each other, right?" He paused, eyes flickering away when Jungkook met his gaze.

"Oh, so you're saying if you never confess to your crush then there's still a chance they reciprocate." Jungkook continued to stare at him intensely. "Why not just ask them and get a definite answer? Sure, the worst thing that could happen is that the cat is dead, but wouldn't it be so much better if you could make sure that it was alive?"

"So...if I kissed you right now," Jimin shyly dropped his gaze and his volume at that, "would there be a universe where you kissed me back?"

Jungkook froze, not believing what he was hearing. "W-what?"

"Never mind, sorry, I just—"

"There would be."

Then it was Jimin's turn to stop and stare at him. "What?"

"Not one, but every universe."

And then with a small smile, a gradual lean, and the slightest tilt, two worlds collapsed into one as they collided and sparked something greater.

Jungkook smiles as he finishes telling the story and finally turns to gauge Jimin's reaction.

"I'm cringing with how cheesy that was," Jimin says, a soft giggle bubbling from him. "You're so cute, Jungkook."

Thud. Jungkook could feel his heart pound painfully at the memory of it, of how he'd heard this exact laugh so many times before, but all too long ago.

Nevertheless, he still finds a way to frown at the words. "I'm not cute," he retorts, "I'm hot and manly as hell."

That gets an even bigger reaction out of Jimin, the slight curve of his lips from before now turning into a full on grin and lighting up his face, and entire body shaking with laughter. "You haven't changed at all."

"I have too! Wait," Jungkook's frown deepens, "what do you mean?"

"Oh, uh—" Jimin suddenly freezes, staring back at him blankly. "You mentioned that you'd complain whenever I called you cute. So I guess that much is still the same." The smile is gone now and Jungkook finds himself missing it already.

"Oh. Yeah, I guess."

Jungkook had probably been too worried and sleep deprived over the past few days. Perhaps that's why he doesn't recall having told Jimin anything about that at all.

~~~

"Tell me about how you proposed."

That makes him freeze in his steps, glancing over suspiciously at the man lying in the bed. "What makes you think I was the one that proposed?"

Jimin giggles, "Because you're super hot and manly as hell?"

"Please don't." Jungkook stifles a groan. "Okay, fine. Yes, I was the one who proposed."

"Why does it seem like you did something embarrassing?"

"I--" He gives Jimin a dull look. "Hey, you were the one who ruined it for me, okay?"

Like with everything that Jungkook thought he had under control, some things were bound to go very, very wrong. Why he expected the proposal to go perfectly smoothly, he would never know.

Skating. He knew how to skate perfectly well and even knew how to do a couple of easy jumps. So it should've been fine to have a skating date on actual ice, on some special winter date close to when they first started dating. Theoretically.

It'd been a while since they spent a whole day together, but it was nearly Christmas and somehow, he had the feeling that it was the right time. Long past them were the days of university, and now with adult life in full swing, they were both very occupied and barely got to see each other.

But it hadn't happened as he planned. Jungkook had made a reservation at the restaurant on the top floor of the fancy hotel with the best view in the city. It would've been dim inside, two candles lighting up their table that would've cast a soft glow on Jimin's face, making him look even more radiant than usual. There'd be lovely jazz music coming from the live piano player on one side, while a giant pane of glass spanned their other side, showing off the dots of light throughout the city like blinking stars in the sky.

His heart would've been pounding so loudly that it was the only thing he could hear, and when the piano player paused in the middle of the sonata at its height, Jungkook would try not to shake as he knelt down and took out the small box in his pocket.

The small box which somehow contained the very item that would bring them together, a symbol of their future, of their memories.

The very box that had actually slipped out of his pocket as he took a vicious tumble on the ice over the toe picks of his figure skates.

"Aren't you like...afraid of falling?" Jimin had asked him warily while holding onto the boards at the sides, while Jungkook was skating around, trying to show off. "The ice looks so painful to fall on."

"Not when you don't fall." Jungkook had smirked, skating really close to Jimin to scare him before pulling a quick side stop and purposely spraying shreds of ice at his poor boyfriend.

"Yah, Jungkook," Jimin shot him a dark look, "just watch, you're going to fall and I'll be the one laughing when you do."

"But hey, then I could just say I fell for you." He winked before leaving for another few laps of fast and furious skating.

When he finished lapping Jimin all too many times and circled back to find him, that's when it had happened. Maybe his thoughts about asking Jimin to marry him were completely tuning out his other abilities, or seeing Jimin so helplessly trying to skate brought a sudden rush of warmth, but something clearly happened and his damned toe pick had decided right then and there to trip him.

He took quite the tumble, travelling so far as he tried so desperately to prevent the fall but to only stumble down again, that he'd ended up right in front of Jimin. The box lay by his skate when he saw it, and to stop Jimin from seeing it, he made a quick turn using the last of his momentum and spun to pick it up.

But judging by the look of pure terror on Jimin's face, he'd already seen it and it was too late. Jungkook was forced to play it out, and since he was already on the ground in front of Jimin, he decided to do the thing.

Propping one knee up, he'd shoved the box up at him and prayed that its contents didn't somehow fall out.

"Ahem," he'd cleared his throat, trying to swallow down the anxiety. "Um, I guess you could say I did fall for you." The speech he'd prepared was completely vanished from his mind at this point and he was just going with whatever he could think of. Trying to make it as smooth as possible. "But maybe at some point, you'd fallen for me too. Maybe it's better when we fall together. The point is that we'll always be there to catch each other, to help each other get off of the ground, and to know that even when we fall, we fall together and never apart."

He snuck a glance at Jimin's reaction to see him covering the bottom part of his face with one hand, the other still clutching onto the boards for dear life. His eyes seemed to be curved up into the familiar looking smile that Jungkook could recognize anywhere, and it gave him courage to proceed.

"With that being said, will you be my wife?"

Jungkook could've pulled it off perfectly fine but that last line just had to ruin it all.

He hadn't realized right away what he had said, and apparently Jimin hadn't either at first. It wasn't until someone in the distance shouted be his wife! really loudly that finally pulled them out of their moment. And Jungkook didn't think he could ever live this down.

"Your wife, not your husband?" Jimin had asked, fiercely blushing cheeks peeking out from between his fingers.

"I--" Jungkook bit down on his lip, frantically searching for something to say. "You can be anything you want, Jimin. Just please be mine."

"Okay," he removed his hand, letting Jungkook take it and fumble with the ring nervously until it finally slipped on nicely.

They hadn't even noticed the surrounding crowd until the roar of applause snapped them out of it.

They went to the fancy dinner that night as fiancés.

Jungkook trails off after his last sentence, wanting to hide his face but also wanting to gauge Jimin's reaction as he listens to the story. The man on the hospital bed seems to be mildly amused, a soft smile across his lips and eyes sparkling.

"Jungkook," he says quietly.

"Hmm?"

"I think...I can see why I fell for you."

That makes Jungkook's breath hitch as his heart thumps hard in his chest and a bubble of hope manages to appear.

"You make me wish I could have my memories back and enjoy them too."

Jungkook forces a tight smile, dry lips nearly splitting at the action "It's probably better that you don't have them back," he murmurs a bit too loudly under his breath.

"Why not?" Jimin blinks slowly. "Did something happen to us, Jungkook?"

He blanches for a second, mind reeling for a response since he'd expected Jimin to laugh it off and give another teasing smile or something. But he'd caught onto his words instead. "No, it's so I can continue teasing you about all the cheesy things you've done and you can't say anything about it."

"Hmm, okay, I'll believe you." A crack of a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Because I really hope nothing happened to us."

"Me too," Jungkook replies with a bittersweet smile.

~~~

"Taehyung, did you tell him we were married?"

The weekend has finally arrived and Jungkook's friend sits on the couch, watching a rerun on some anime on TV while eating what leftover ice cream they had in the fridge. Jungkook was cleaning up the house because he'd had enough of this mess, and not because he was hoping to impress Jimin someday when he returns. If he returns at all.

But as he was remembering the details of his conversation with Jimin yesterday, there was another detail that he remembered and it sounded out of place for some reason.

Taehyung doesn't even look away from his show. "Nah, I thought you didn't want me to?"

"Oh hmm." Jungkook picks up another dish to dry it before setting it back in the cupboard. "It's just strange because I thought I'd told him that we were just dating, but yesterday he asked about the proposal."

"He—wait what?" Now Taehyung finally looks up from the show, a spoon full of ice cream held in midair.

"Do you think he's getting more of his memories back?"

"Wait—oh!" The ice cream falls on his lap when he goes to face-palm himself but he doesn't seem to notice, and Jungkook stifles a laugh. "Y-yeah, it must've slipped out when I was talking to him the day before. Sorry about that." A shrug before he goes to put the empty spoon in his mouth.

Jungkook stops halfway through drying the plate in his hands. It just didn't seem to add up because everything flowed so nicely yesterday and he hadn't even noticed that he should've been hiding the whole marriage part if he'd wanted to stick to his original plan. "Okay. It's just that he didn't seem too surprised by it, that's all."

"He's not, Jungkook. Can't you tell? He's already in love with you again."

But you cannot love something you do not remember.

~~~

Days pass and Jungkook barely even registers the exhaustion setting in his body from all of this.

He doesn't even realize he's fallen asleep while still at the hospital until he's awakened by the loud sound of his ringtone blasting through the silence of the room. Jungkook tries to rub the sleep from his eyes as he reaches blindly for his phone, quickly picking up without bothering to check the number so that it doesn't wake Jimin too.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Jeon? It's Mr. Kim calling from the law firm." Oh. "I'm just calling to inform you that your case date has been moved up, so the divorce can be finalized by as early as next week, if all of your documents are ready to go."

"Um..." Jungkook blinks, letting the words sink in, "wait, next week?"

"Yes, you're fortunate enough to have some cancellations from the cases ahead of you, so yours has been pushed up. Did you get a chance go through all of the documents?"

"Sorry, um, n-not yet," he answers, the lie stumbling off his tongue as he felt his stomach drop. He had finished reading everything, trying to prepare himself, yet the lines where signatures were supposed to be still remained blank. Jungkook heaves a sigh. "I just...I need a bit more time."

"You have the rest of the week. Is that enough?"

"I'll try my best." He hangs up then turns to see Jimin watching him carefully despite the sleep clearly written on his face, a worried expression hanging in the air.

"Was that something important?"

"No," Jungkook puts on a weak smile, tossing his phone aside. "Don't worry about it."

He was running out of time.

~~~

"Did we ever fight?" Jimin asks meekly, clear eyes gazing at him with a sort of hindered curiosity. Like he wants to know but is afraid of what Jungkook might have to say. So that was his question for today. It might explain why he was a little hesitant when Jungkook came in.

Jungkook decides to put on a sort of grin, shaking his head slowly. "Nah, we would never." He tries for an even brighter expression. "We got along too well for that."

A sigh slips out quietly and a slight smile appears on Jimin's face as well. "Hmm that's good."

Just in case it wasn't convincing enough, Jungkook carries on with the lie. "Well we were pretty similar so there wasn't much to dispute in the first place, and..." he pauses to think for a moment, "even if we did fight, I'd think that it wouldn't be too bad because at least it'd still be with you."

Jimin nods, chewing on his bottom lip and looking mildly uncomfortable. "Really?"

"Anything was fine when it was with you." Jungkook confesses, getting ready to share another memory of the good days in the past.

No, he would never reveal to Jimin how bad their fights got.

Still fresh in his head was one of the worst arguments that acted as a catalyst for this chain of events, one he'd probably never forget because of the way everything had built up then fallen apart so easily.

He'd just gotten home from a long day at work, wanting nothing more than to drop everything and relax for a bit. That came in the form of gaming and so he'd logged into his League of Legends account and called up a couple of his friends for a few rounds.

He hadn't even noticed the time until the click of the door sounded, and Jimin was home.

"How long have you been sitting there? Have you been gaming the whole day?" The frown in Jimin's voice was audible and Jungkook wanted nothing more than to just ignore him and finish his game. They were already losing and this wasn't going to help their team at all.

"Well you're never home so I guess you wouldn't know." Jungkook said sarcastically to the point where he could even hear the venom laced in his own voice.

A tired sigh slipped out. "Jungkook, I have things to do. I'm busy enough as it is and it's all so stressful."

"And then you go out with your work friend every time."Like I don't even exist. Thinking about all of this again just got him more and more riled up. It was the same thing every time, but he couldn't help the sharp tinge of jealousy that was always just beneath the surface, resting there, hurting.

"He's just a friend, and you're the one who said you didn't mind who I hung out with so how am I supposed to know you'd care so much about it now?"

Jungkook could see the way he got Jimin worked up and it almost felt like a victory. But Jimin's tone was defensive and maybe that only made him even more annoyed than before.

"What, a friend that you spend more time with than your own husband?" He sneered.

Jimin rolled his eyes. "Are you being jealous right now? Not this again."

And he was ready. He saw it coming from miles away and knew exactly how this was supposed to play out. "See that's the thing—you never want to talk about it."

"What good will it bring if we're just going to keep fighting over this? I didn't marry you so that we could do this every day."

"Then maybe you shouldn't have."

Only when the stillness hit was when he realized that he said the absolute worst thing he could've said. This wasn't something that ever came up in their arguments. It'd slipped out without him realizing it, and when the response of stop, you don't mean that never came and Jimin's initial shock changed into something darker, that's when he knew it was too late, that he couldn't just take back this mistake.

"Maybe I shouldn't have." Jimin said it quietly, but there it was. It almost seemed too loud in the silence of the room, the one line that cut through the muddled thoughts and any feelings buzzing in Jungkook's mind and seemed to pierce his heart.

Jimin stared at him, eyes unreadable, but Jungkook knew he was waiting, hanging on to the slice of hope that there'd be some retort, some kind of apology or admission of regret. Yet Jungkook chose to stay silent, pursing his lips.

Because even though it hurt so much, maybe it was better this way. It was clear to both of them that this couldn't go on, and replaying through the same cycle over and over would only crumble the remaining of what they had.

That's when Jimin left and never returned for the night.

~~~

"There's something I wanted to ask you. Because they never exactly told me..." Jimin starts then trails off, gaze avoiding Jungkook's.  He looks extremely nervous and Jungkook has a feeling what he's about to ask, but wonders why he'd be so afraid of asking. 

"Told you what?"

"How the accident happened."

"Oh."

That was the other thing Jungkook could never tell him.

Maybe the first couple of times they fight it's nothing, just another habit, another small action that would mean nothing more than a mere second passing through their infinity. Maybe it was even nice because it was endearing how Jimin would comfort him afterwards and make sure that he knew everything was fine, that he would always be there. That Jungkook would always be the only one. How their vast infinity was in no way comparable to the fleeting moments spent elsewhere.

But maybe it was the summation of small seconds that leads to infinity.

Somehow the small habits, the quirks, the meanings that at one point had meant the world, became the exact things that spurred the anger and annoyance.

Not the hatred, though. Never the hatred. It's funny how it never turns into hatred, but instead, it becomes the weapons that pierce through the heart. And despite how much he tried to convince himself, there was nothing that was able to make him hate Jimin.

It got to the point where he didn't even look forward to going home because that meant there'd probably be another fight or something; a million and one reasons to make his heart ache and his stomach feel heavy.

Jungkook remembers what happened that day to the very last detail, and it'd probably be ingrained in his mind forever—is that what a flashbulb memory was? He remembers that on the day of the accident, he had gotten off of work as usual and maybe he should've been happy about the fact that Jimin wouldn't be home until a bit later, but his mind was already drowning in the dread of yet another fight with his husband. Even in their last days together, it seemed like every little thing instigated some sort of dispute, always spiralling into the same conclusion that lay in the form of a stack of legal documents. Divorce papers.

Maybe he'd purposely left the spill on the stairs. Maybe he'd been petty and just wanted Jimin to complain about something else.

Maybe it seemed like the fights provided the only opportunity for the two to even see each other at all and remained the only sign that he hadn't lost Jimin completely yet.

But what he hadn't foreseen was that that very spill would cause a fall down the stairs, a concussion, and possible damage to some area of the brain that he overheard the doctors talk about—something that started with "hippo"; he hadn't known what that meant.

He hadn't known that this would take Jimin farther away from him than any argument would have.

Jungkook sighs, fidgeting with Jimin's fingers. "You slipped... I'm sorry I wasn't there with you."

"But you're here now." Somehow, Jimin doesn't persist with asking for any more details. But the smallest of smiles that appeared on his lips fills Jungkook's heart with hope.

~~~

"What?" Jungkook narrows his eyes at the sight of Jimin biting his bottom lip, expression looking like a blend between relief, excitement, and guilt...?

"Jungkook, I'm getting discharged tomorrow."

"Oh." His mind completely blanks for a second. Belatedly, he puts on a wide grin. "Oh. That's great! You finally get to leave this disgusting hospital food behind."

"Yeah," Jimin lets out quietly. There's the tiniest of smiles resting on his lips and he fiddles with his sheets again.

Jungkook stands at the door awkwardly, unsure of what to do now that his mind was reeling from the news. He hadn't planned this far at all. "Um, I'm just going to step outside for a second. Forgot something." He smiles. "Will be right back!"

He leaves before Jimin could say anything but that doesn't stop him from noticing the sad look on the man's face.

Then Jungkook walks straight into someone.

"Mfgh—"

"Sorry!" Then Jungkook realizes who it was. The all-black attire with pale blonde hair definitely wasn't something you would miss. "Wait, Yoongi?"

"Oh it's you." There's a frown on Yoongi's face. Naturally. "Are you done visiting him?"

"No—I just—"

But then Jungkook suddenly remembers something. Just before the accident, Jimin had gone back to his own apartment for a couple of nights to clean it and get ready to move back. Jungkook distinctly remembered him carrying that dreaded manila envelope as he walked out the door without looking back.

Which meant those divorce papers were probably still sitting in Jimin's apartment somewhere, already signed and ready to go.

So now he has to make sure that Jimin doesn't see them when he gets released from the hospital and went back to living there. Because he can't know.

And Yoongi, being almost like Jimin's older brother, was the one who happened to keep the keys this whole time.

"Yoongi..." he starts.

"What do you want?"

"Do you have the key to Jimin's old apartment?"

"Maybe." Yoongi narrows his eyes. "Why do you care?"

"Can I please borrow it for like a couple of hours?"

"No," he deadpans. "What are you even planning on doing?"

"I just—I want to help him clean it before he goes back."

"Stop lying, kid." A flat stare that seems to go through Jungkook's soul. "You're there for the papers, aren't you?" Yoongi pauses. "And maybe the ring too."

"Yoongi, please," Jungkook begs, voice pleading and already teetering off the edge of sounding desperate. "Just let me do this."

"Jungkook, you know you have no right going there." The older man responds, giving him a sharp glance.

And it was true. The place was Jimin's apartment from before and he'd kept it all these years as an investment, he claimed. But Jungkook couldn't just give up when he's already making some sort of progress. "I-I just need to make sure that he doesn't see them. Not until he's all better and recovers his memories or..." he hesitates, "wants to make a decision."

Yoongi sighs, tugging the short strands of his hair. "You're going to be pretty persistent about this, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"Okay fine, but give it back right after."

Jungkook opens his mouth, ready for another plead or dispute because there was no way it'd be so easy. But he stops dead at Yoongi's words. "Thanks, you're the best."

He only gets a scoff in response but the ice in Yoongi's gaze is no longer there.

~~~

His hands are shaking as he takes multiple attempts at opening the door. He doesn't know what to expect but he mentally prepares himself for the worst. The papers must already be signed, stamped or whatever, maybe sealed. The settlements would be ready to go and Jungkook's stuff would be packed up in a box by the door, to be returned to him or thrown out or burned. He would be ready to end this chapter of life and move onto the next.

But when Jungkook finally opens the door, he doesn't expect to see such a mess. There are clothes strewed across the room, stuff on the floor, and dirty dishes in the sink. Empty bottles. It was almost terrifying how different the place looked from when he'd last been there.

One thing was what he expected, though. The manila envelope holding the contents that would break them apart forever sits on the table, seemingly untouched. Jungkook picks it up, trying to quickly stuff it into his bag so he would never have to look at such a painful thing, but that's when he notices the small pieces of paper falling out of the envelope.

The papers had been ripped. Slashed. Broken apart into hundreds of pieces that floated towards the ground as he dumps the contents.

~~~

"Tae, I don't know if I can do this anymore." Jungkook sighs heavily, digging his fingers into his temples.

He'd been dreading the day that Jimin would get discharged from the hospital. Because if he was there, then at least Jungkook could ensure that he visited him every day, but now that he was back to his own apartment, there was no say in when Jungkook would see him next. Two days had passed without a trace of a message or text from Jimin, and it felt like he was slipping away forever. How was he ever supposed to make up for so much lost time? What about all the memories of the years they'd spent together?

Jungkook had wanted to reset, to somehow start everything over, but not like this. Not when all he could do was try to hold tightly onto the shattered pieces of Jimin's melodic laughter and bright smiles and soft touches that seem to slip through his grasp day by day. Late at night he'd sometimes find himself wishing that he'd be the one to lose all of this instead and be free from the past that was haunting him in the present.

"What?" Taehyung frowns at him. "But you still love him, and he loves you even more. You don't just give up on that, Jungkook."

"There's just no winning in this, Tae. Even if he does, what would that make of us? Are we even anything anymore?"

"Does it matter what you two are? You guys of all people should know that there's no need to stick on labels so fast." Taehyung pauses to give Jungkook a light shove. "Don't give up. Something good will come out of it." A smirk. "Besides, I didn't hook you guys up for nothing."

"Please don't mention that ever again." Jungkook shoves him back.

~~~

The deadline was tomorrow. The papers were all read through and the only thing left to do was sign his name on the final blank line on the last page.

He left it blank.

The papers stayed in the yellow envelope in his bag.

~~~

Something good will come out of it.

Those words echo in Jungkook's mind as he stares at the message on his phone.

Jiminnie~<3: Cafe like old times, space hub?

For someone who lost his memories, Jimin sure has a very good memory of the things that Jungkook had told him over the past week.

Jungkook: Sure thing, hubble

They meet at the local cafe that they'd been frequenting ever since they were caffeine junkies in university. It's bright outside with the brilliant sunshine that had been hiding behind thick layers of clouds all winter, and Jungkook even decides to walk an extra block instead of driving. Mainly because he didn't think he could handle it if anything goes awry at their meeting.

The coffee shop is quiet and mostly empty, with only a couple of students taking up the tables at the sides with their laptops ready to work. Jimin greets him with a wave and a smile from where he sits at a small round table in the corner by the window overlooking the street. He could pretend that it was just like their college days, and that the hard thudding of his heart was from the nerves that came with liking someone—not this.

Not too far into their date, Jungkook could notice that Jimin seems oddly anxious today, only responding with shy smiles and soft chuckles or the occasional comment here and there. He isn't as teasing as he'd been earlier in the week and Jungkook knew that something was off, and it just made him more nervous than he already was. He could feel the adrenaline rushing through his body as he sat tensely, mind constantly spiralling into possibilities about the worst that could happen.

"There's something I wanted to tell you," Jimin starts, fingers playing with the strings of his hoodie.

"I'm listening." Jungkook stares intently, trying to carefully read the brunette's expressions as he'd done so many times in the past. It shouldn't be difficult, but he isn't sure if he could read him so easily anymore when this version of Jimin was different—

"I'm sorry."

"Wait, what?"

"For lying." Jimin lowers his gaze, biting into his lower lip. "Or well, it wasn't all lying but I guess I haven't been entirely truthful either."

"What are you talking about?" Jungkook's pulse accelerates, skipping nervously in his chest. His hands are sweaty and his stomach twists with each word coming out of Jimin's mouth.

"Jungkook." He puts his hands on the table. That's when Jungkook noticed it. The glimmering band that sits just at the base of his ring finger on his left hand, reflecting the ambient light in all directions.

Their wedding ring.

"Jungkook, I don't actually have retrograde amnesia."

"What?" He could only stare. "What do you mean... did you get your memories back? Or what, were you pretending this entire time?" It comes out sarcastic, rhetorical, but judging by the look on Jimin's face, he's dead on.

This is it. It would definitely end here, and the past week was just some sort of cruel goodbye that served as a cold reminder of what they once had. Jimin had never really forgotten and just wanted something to ease him from this rough period and—

"No! It was real for like the first couple of days; I really did lose my memories at the time. But then... everything just came back to me really quickly, as if they were never gone in the first place."Jimin frowns."Maybe it was just temporary—I don't really know either."

"Why didn't you tell me earlier then? I was worried out of my mind."

"Because, I-I—" He stops and heaves a sigh. "Because it was actually nice being like that for a while. It was like a flashback to when we first met, when we didn't have all these worries to deal with."

"Do you even know how hard it was?"

"I'm sorry, Jungkook. It was hard for me too—you don't know how much I just wanted to stop all of this," he purses his lips, dropping the volume of his voice. "It was already difficult enough trying to keep up with the pretending—I'm sure you noticed the discrepancies—and it hurt me to see you hurt like that. But Tae said to keep going because it was actually bringing us together again. And that's all I really wanted."

The ripped up divorce papers. The wedding ring. Thinking back, there was even the old nickname, "space hub", that he realized he couldn't have told Jimin about within the past week. It slowly started to add up in some strange, twisted way.

"What do you mean?"

"I never wanted it to end." Jimin's words come out slowly, eyes shifting slightly but never leaving Jungkook's gaze for too long. "Maybe we just needed a bit of space or some time to sort everything out, but I know that I would never really stop loving you."

"Jimin..."

"And I know this whole situation right now isn't even close to being a solution of any sort, but after recovering my memories, I realized what a huge chunk of my life had been missing, only because I had no memory of you and of us. Maybe we've both changed through the years but doesn't that give us more room to fall back together? To be able to keep improving together and supporting each other through all of these changes and constantly learn more about each other. I...guess you could say that fall was meant to happen because it literally made me fall for you again." He stops, fiddling with the ring on his finger, but when Jimin looks up again, his eyes were sincere, genuine. "So, maybe... do you think we can give this another chance?"

Jungkook doesn't trust himself to speak with how constricted his throat feels. "Jimin, you know I never wanted things to end either. You've been such a big part of my life already that I don't think I'd know how to live without you..." he pauses to clear his voice. "I can't believe I actually hoped you wouldn't recover your memories. So you wouldn't know about the things that led up to the accident, and then maybe there'd be some sort of alternate universe where there were only happy memories of the two of us. Like that would be a solution to our problems or something."

Jimin stays silent, nodding slowly.

"And then when the accident happened, I just—" A deep breath. "I lied to you and hid everything only because I was so afraid of losing you and I knew I would never forgive myself if anything happened. Even now... I'm so sorry, Jimin. For everything."

"Don't be." Jimin smiles softly, a bittersweet expression on his face. "What matters is that we're aware of this now, so we'll work harder to resolve any problems or misunderstandings, right?"

"Yeah." He's a little dizzy and the words fly over his head, but Jimin's smile grounds him and the light brush of their knees sends his stomach into a frenzy.

Jungkook wants to reach across the table and hold his hand or simply feel his touch to know that this was real. That it wasn't some sort of dream that he'd held onto for far too long and never ended well. But he decides against it, for the shimmer on Jimin's ring reminds him that his own is not on his finger, and hadn't been there since a long while before the accident. He'd placed it somewhere, telling everyone else that rings were dumb because they're just a harbouring ground for bacteria and another place to get an odd tan line, when his heart knew the truth all too well.

But to his astonishment, Jimin slowly gets out of his seat and goes to kneel down in front of Jungkook. A ring sits in his palm, the same silver band still as shiny as ever. It was his ring.

"Stay with me?"

And if this was like another proposal, Jungkook would've said that it was even better than the first one. There was none of the fancy dinner in suits, expensive views and romantic music in the background. There was no showing off cool tricks on ice, no crowd to witness them and applaud them in celebration. This was casual clothes, messy hair tossed by the wind, and a cheap caffeine fix that they'd gotten since the days they first met. This was typical cafe music, the sound of clicking laptop keyboards as businessmen worked and students crammed, and the stillness of no one caring what was going on in the outside world.

This was them. True, and in its rawest form.

And staying true to himself, Jungkook brings back a memory from the first time."Of course. I'll still be your wife, Jimin."

Jimin slips the ring on his finger, bursting out in laughter. "Even when you're old and wrinkly and not hot as hell anymore?"

"Yah, I'll still be hot even when I'm--"

And then his heart was racing, cheeks heating, and palms all sweaty just like the first time when Jimin closes the distance.

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut and drowns in the sinking warmth pulling him under as his lips slide so perfectly between Jimin's and there's so much pressure in his chest that he feels like it would explode. A million sparks and a thousand tingling flames spreading and overwhelming him until the pain and yearning simultaneously numbs and becomes so salient he can't breathe. There's too much and never enough. A sweet lingering taste of mocha that can't quite mask Jimin's natural scent and Jungkook takes it all in eagerly, trying to piece back each broken piece of the shattered memories. Fingers run through soft hair and knees bump and Jungkook's hands shake with the multitude of sensations. And what words cannot say is shown in the clarity of Jimin's gentle touches and suddenly the void was being stitched back together, piece by piece, time turning back and a reaction reversing, and the run of infinity looping back to the beginning.

Reset. It's what he had wanted.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting to do that," Jimin says breathlessly, caressing Jungkook's cheek.

"I would've done it back at the hospital but we were still strangers." He couldn't even pout, still staring at his husband's face, unable to look away.

"Ah, we shouldn't even be doing that here..." Jimin's cheeks visibly redden as he slides back into his seat. Never letting go of Jungkook's hand."We have plenty of time."

"Yeah," he manages to get out, still feeling lightheaded.

"Also, I was just slightly disappointed you didn't tell me we were married. Or, I don't know, you could've told a more interesting story. Like, boyfriends? Really, Jungkook?"

"What kind of interesting story did you want?" Jungkook raises an eyebrow. "I'm a vampire who accidentally turned you and now you're waking up as one? Or maybe you were in an experiment and had your body frozen all of these years and so you're waking up in another century and I'm the hero saving you?"

Jimin laughs fully, leaning back in his chair. "I was thinking more like we were in some crazy love triangle but after my memories were wiped, I'd forgotten about my crush and you got your chance at wooing me."

"Hey! Are you trying to suggest there's someone else right now?"

There's a teasing smile and a playful twinkle in Jimin's eyes. "No. You know there's only you. And even if it was some drama-like alternate universe, I'd still fall for you every time."

"You're the one who thought we were hooking up," Jungkook scoffs jokingly. "I know I'm hot and all, but I'm not the playboy who didn't believe in love."

"Oh stop, you're going to make me regret this," Jimin grins.

And then falling back together became as easy as it'd been falling for each other in the first place.