#just give me a quiet little life. ordinary. unknown by the world

[gratiae-mirabilia]

normalize having low ambitions. it is no bad thing to want an obscure and simple life

[ephemerlskies]

of honey and cinnamon | jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader

⇢ genre: fluff, one shot, slice of life au, enemies to lovers, musician!jungkook

⇢ word count: 14k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, mentions of terminal illness, mentions of death, themes of grief, slight plot twist, a surprising consumption of sugar, enough cheesiness to last you a lifetime

⇢ summary: what makes a three-day train ride back to your hometown anything but dull and dreadfully long? the answer, and your salvation from a boring trip home, was being stuck in the same cart as jeon jungkook for the entire ride there. unknown to you, he would turn this mundane trip into an unexpected adventure.

♪ playlist: dream a little dream of me - ella fitzgerald, departure - joe hisaishi, a journey (a dream of flight) - joe hisaishi, longing for mother's return - satoshi takebe, the sixth station - joe hisaishi, a town with an ocean view - joe hisaishi, you're in love - joe hisaishi, one summer's day - joe hisaishi ♪

a/n: this was honestly one of my favorite fics to write! ever! it was heavily inspired by studio ghibli movies hence the playlist because i recently binged a bunch of ghibli films (and i do not regret it) so, i tried to replicate the vibes from the movies i watched as best as i could!! :)) i hope you lovely readers enjoy!

They tell you love takes time. If you are patient and attentive enough, it courses through your body easier than your own blood and sinks itself in each vessel and bone and cell. Love will melt into your heart until that is all it knows. And in tales where lovers make grand gestures, like slaying the dragon and giving the moon and the stars and the sky along with the world underneath it and bestowing true love's kiss, it takes an entire story to get to the part where they are in love.

Love takes time, and in that time, there is a series of sometimes likely, and sometimes unlikely, events woven delicately within each minute that leads to the moment you know, you are in love. Traditionally, love makes itself known. It is loud and beautiful and anything but hidden within the ordinary moments used to fill in the gaps between the bigger moments. 

This story, your story, existed during the moments in between.

This train station had always emulated such an archaic ambiance. So much so that you believed you'd traveled back in time to when it was first built. Everything felt surreal, when you stepped on the train making a beeline to Cart 102, the floors felt like water; the surface tension clinging just strong enough to keep you afloat not without the occasional toss and turn. You swore it was just the rusted tracks that jostled you, but a part of you knew it was the water.

"Single rider?" The attendant stood at your cart's checkpoint, hand extended and waiting for your ticket.

"Yes, here." You handed him the paper, along with your baggage but kept the book for future entertainment and the pillow because you could tell the seats were no softer than wood.

"The train is fully occupied, so someone will be sharing your cart."

Perfect. If the world wants to do you a favor, just this once, then you hope that it sends you a quiet passenger. One that exchanges the customary 'hello' and 'goodbye' which is the extent of your interaction with them because you were tired in a way that sunk you into your zone of unsociability and on your way back home for the worst possible reason.

And the world did, in fact, do you a favor. It delivered Jungkook to Cart 102. But it just was not the favor you expected.

At first, you believed him to tick all your requirements for the ideal travel companion. Perfectly manicured company with a clear sense of boundaries. For one, he entered with a wall of silence that not only kept a greeting gated in but even the slightest acknowledgment that you were seated right across from him. It was so natural for him to ignore you that you had to glance down at your hand to check if you really were invisible.

He took his seat, stared out of the frost dusted window that reflected the sliding door that separated you and this man from the rest of the train and the world, and sighed. For a moment, he just stared and you thought it would get easier from here. But then he turned to you, and smiled.

"Hi, I'm Jungkook." It was a full smile, one that showed nearly every tooth, which reminded you of a rabbit. That paid enough respect for the previous shouldered entrance, and at first it was cute. Then, it made you feel guilty.

It was a smile you couldn't afford to return at the moment, so instead, you offered back a slightly upturned lip and a cordial nod.

"___." His hands looked strong like they had handled an array of heavy things and had the calluses to prove it. The way he sat made you feel a spark of something.

It was only a few seconds later when you realized that something was an unbridled annoyance. His legs were spread out, having you picturing the times he'd monopolize the space on a crowded bus. Jungkook was probably the type of man who was born with an entitlement that carried through to every part of his life, including the way he sat down on trains and pissed the living hell off of you.

"Like what you see?" Now you were pissed off for two reasons. The way he sat and the fact that you just got caught staring at him; his lap to be specific.

Soon, the two reasons doubled when your eyes returned to the smile on his face that didn't seem to have gone away. He was proud to catch you in the act, and most likely assumed your staring was due to an attraction so gripping that you couldn't help yourself but to stare at his crotch of all things.

"No, I was just..." Your words caught in your throat, because you weren't about to explain why his spread position on the seat had drawn an irritation from you thicker than the blood pulsing loudly through your body. You didn't want him to know you cared enough to be irritated in the first place, even if that meant letting him believe your staring was a form of unspoken flattery. "No."

"Okay, whatever you say, ___." It was the sarcasm this time, and the way he said your name that pissed you off. There was a seed inside you, ready to bury in your gut and grow just enough for you to rip his tongue from his mouth so he'd never have to say your name again.

"You'd think you didn't want to make the person you're about to spend three days on a train with angry, but maybe you're just that dumb." Insulting him gave you instant relief from the headache you knew was about to assume your forehead.

"Damn. Guess you're not the type to take a joke." Jungkook revealed his teeth one by one again, but you didn't describe it as a smile. A smile is something you thought to be beautiful, a physical expression of joy. No, what his face possessed was something sadistic. You were sure of it.

The way he carried himself and voiced his thoughts were more concentrated than arrogance. There was not a word in any language that could properly describe Jungkook. Nor was there a feeling that could render yours into something palpable. And the world had sealed you inside this cell marked Cart 102 with the person who was grainy and slick like quicksand, and just as deadly because you were sinking into him and every feeling he had provoked within the ten minutes you'd known him.

Jungkook was the first person you hated. Beyond every rude customer, every demanding boss, every high school bully, every cut tie, there was Jungkook who wore that heavy medallion of hatred around his neck like he was proud of it.

In all honesty, you thought he should wear it. He earned it. Everyone should know that you hated Jungkook and that it only took him a record-breaking ten minutes to attain the once unattained title.

You began to read your book, however 'read' didn't accurately describe what you were doing, which was staring blankly through the same words while collecting more reasons why you hated this man. It became an obsession of yours in a few short moments, because now you didn't just hate the way he sat and spoke and smiled. You hated how his breathing was somehow louder than the wheels grinding against the metal tracks or how whenever another train would pass by, he'd bring his face so close to the window you could see the warmth of his breath cling onto the glass and form a small, foggy patch.

You especially hated that you could quite literally feel his eyes on you, blistering your skin like the way a magnifying glass would redirect the sun's rays onto a target, which just so happened to be your face. Jungkook was unrelenting; as if he were trying to sear your skin with a permanent brand of his eyes.

Between the rhythmic flipping of the pages that you weren't reading, you were compelled to reprimand him for the staring. Maybe throwing his own words back into his face about 'liking what you see' would do your own vengeance justice. But that might indicate you were thinking of what he said to you this whole time.

"The weather looks so cold. It's practically raining." You moved only your eyes up from your book to study him.

He was looking out the window again, eyes chasing each speck of mist preluding the raindrops that were surely going to fall. It always rained at night.

"Looks like another thunderstorm." You packaged up the gasp that was about to burst from your chest.

For reasons you'd rather not share with a complete stranger you were hellbent on hating, you were terrified of thunder. Not lightning, but the loud crash that followed it. It was the last thing you wanted to experience while bottled up in a train with Jungkook.

"Excuse me." Your abrupt stance interrupted Jungkook's rain watching.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"None of your business." The slam of the sliding door echoed the anger you didn't express before as it snapped shut, fractionating the air you once shared with Jungkook.

You took a deep breath, the air outside felt cooler. The attendant was loyal to his assigned post, which was convenient for you.

"Sir, is there any way I can switch carts?"

"No, full train. And your ticket says Cart 102, so that's where you were meant to be." His eyes were sheltered by his hat, so there was no chance of pleading with your eyes if you couldn't even see his.

"Fine." It was a long shot, one that you didn't have the aim or trajectory for. You suppose he was right. Cart 102 was where you belonged for now. You just couldn't accept that Jungkook also belonged there with you.

Inside, the warm yellow light was beckoning you back in. Through the door, the brightness glimmered out until it was consumed by the dark hall where you stood. Jungkook was looking out of the window again with a rising and falling chest; you could hear his breathing even from behind the door or at least, you could imagine how it would sound.

"If we're going to share a cart, we could at least be friends." Jungkook's suggestion made him too human, too real for you to hate. You wanted to cling on to the idea that he was a horrible person, harboring more vices than the devil himself. But his voice was friendly sometimes, and his smile looked loving, occasionally, when he presented it to you.

"I don't see why we can't just be silent for the rest of the ride."

"Why are you going back home?" For a second, you were shocked enough to forget you were supposed to hate him. His gaze was calm and carried none of the worries yours had. You wondered, just for a second, about all the others who were on the receiving end of his gaze, and if they felt the way you felt when he looked at you. That look that distinguished him from anyone you had ever met.

You didn't want him to be right, because you didn't want the 'why' to be real. The tragedy, the only thing demanding enough to peel you away from your life away from home, should not have been the 'why' that put you on this train. But it was, and it made you angrier than he did.

"How do you know I'm going home?" You injected each word with a sharpness that you hoped would sting Jungkook.

"Well, are you going home?"

"Yes... are you?"

"No, just visiting." His eyes returned to the window, like a refrain in a poem. Always returning to look somewhere out into the beyond.

"Well, you should count yourself lucky." And you returned back to your refrain, pretending to read just so you wouldn't get caught staring at him and listing more reasons you hated Jungkook because that was easier than thinking of what was really bothering you.

"Lucky. Huh." You wanted to know what was so captivating on the other side of the window. What could have possibly supplied his eyes with something that was more interesting than the inside of this train? "Why are you going back home?"

"You already asked that."

"And you didn't answer me." Perhaps it was the stars, and he was tracking them in his mental inventory, examining until they were replicated along his memory the same way they were plotted across the sky. "Why are you going back home?"

"My mom. She's dying." Stars seemed to be a beautiful thing to keep your eyes occupied in a way your mind couldn't be, but you couldn't see past the thick fog and lack of light. "She's sick."

"I'm sorry to hear." His sincerity worked against all the animosity you'd cultivated for him.

How could he see the stars? You were going to ask, but you didn't want him to know what lied beyond the small beacon of light surrounding the train was lost to you, or rather you lost them. You wanted to hate him, so you didn't ask.

"I knew something bad must have happened to get someone like you to come home." That comment certainly suffocated any benefit of the doubt you were going to bestow upon him. Jungkook was arrogant and entitled, and in your most recent discovery, presumptuous and judgmental. Everything wrong with this world. No amount of dashing smiles and considerate questions could change that. You had to remember, you hated this man

"How dare you! How- How dare you assume something so rude!" The cloth of your pillowcase had almost worn through from how tight your fists were gripping them. You felt the fire burning through your nerves, soon about to combust and set Cart 102 ablaze. "I hate you."

It was two in the morning, or at least those were the numbers shining from your watch. The window offered the same pitch blackness that frustrated you, so you decided to give your legs some employment from sitting.

The hall of the train was nearly as dark as the outside; the overhead lights once drizzling down a soft glow were turned off. You wandered down the stretch of the medium but the further you walked, the thinner the walkway felt. Soon, the walls on either side of you were pressed against your shoulders so snugly, you had to turn your body to squeeze through.

"Having trouble?" You knew that voice; you hated that familiar inflections and conceit planted in each word he spoke.

"Can't you see I'm trying to walk?" Squinting proved to be obsolete while trying to see whatever destination was in the distance. "Why is everything so dark?"

"Because, you're not trying." If you could turn around, if these walls weren't beginning to smother your body to immobilization, then you would have run over to him and slapped the smile right off of his face. Because you were trying, you were trying to see this whole time but the dark had infested everywhere.

Unfortunately for you, the walls were connecting closer and closer, as if trying to move through you so they could reach each other and close altogether. But where would that leave you? When the gap was stitched shut, where would you be?

The walls were softer than you thought, but still forceful enough to steal all the air from your lungs leaving you a panicked mess lodged between these unkind walls. And the pressure wasn't enough to kill you, but it was just enough to leave you stuck and miserable.

"Jungkook, help me, I can't..."

Day One

Your dream was vivid enough to mislead you into thinking it was real. It wasn't until your eyes fluttered open, and consciousness spilled into your mind like a gentle breeze that you realized the nightmare was over. The window allowed a soft light into Cart 102, making you more thankful for the day than you had ever been in your entire life. You lifted your head from your pillow placed on the seat that you didn't recall placing there, and now that you think of it, you didn't remember falling asleep either.

You especially didn't remember covering yourself with this wool coat that smelled like the air after a bonfire had just finished browning marshmallows and dissolving wood.

"Someone's finally awake." Then it all came back to you. You wondered why everything felt so tranquil. It was a shame you couldn't enjoy the peace before the omen of annoyance, your special nickname for Jungkook, had returned.

"What time is it?" Your eyes were blinking away the sleep, and when that failed, your hands began to rub them until they were able to prop open fully.

"Eight-thirty. Here." He set down a Styrofoam cup of something hot enough for steam to escape through the open space of the lid. It smelled sweeter than coffee.

"What is it?" Your question came after you had already picked it up to furnish your hands with warmth and your nose with the delectable aroma leaking from this cup.

Jungkook’s smile was hidden behind his cup, already half empty, withholding an answer from you because he wanted to see if you would try it before you knew what it was.

"Don't worry, it's not poison." You figured it could be counted as retribution in the form of a nice pick-me-up for all the irritation he'd caused you, not to mention the fact that even in your dreams, he couldn't seem to leave you alone. No, Jungkook's presence was something that would slip through the realm of your sleep, the only place you thought you could escape him.

You sipped slowly, and the drink inside the cup made a quick and favorable acquaintance with your tongue. The contents were something you'd be able to identify separately, but when combined, they were delicious and elusive all at once.

"Wow, this is great!" The smile escaped faster than a spilled cup of water, and before you could clean the messy evidence of your gratitude, Jungkook returned the same smile, but his wasn't a spill; his smiles were never an accident, and you could almost resent him for it.

Almost.

"You like it, huh? Didn't take you to be a fan of sweet things." Both pairs of eyes were taken by the scenery just on the other side of the window decorated with streaks of the fallen dew drops.

His pride was untamed, and you assumed it was because Jungkook never took any action to dilute his own conceit. You liked to imagine how often Jungkook could arm himself with that smile, that laugh, which you were not too blind in your own despise to admit were both conventionally attractive assets of his, and everyone in a ten foot radius would fall into his hands. The world seemed to rest in his hands, and all he had to do was smile.

Not you, though. You were certain you had polished yourself with enough perspective so you wouldn’t be foolish enough to let something as shallow as a charming smile fracture your walls. Though, it was increasingly frustrating, verging on the point of catastrophe, how difficult it was to convince yourself of this and to ignore the image of his smile, sneaking its way to the forefront of your thoughts after brushing it off seconds before.

It was overcast, and the grey from the sky had permeated along the air below, yet it didn't puncture the vibrancy of the ever-extending grassy plains. They seemed to continue on forever, as if you walked out to the horizon it would take an eternity to find the end of the green landscape. The wind acted as music to which each blade of grass had been dancing an instinctive choreography.

And every so often, a patch of flowers would appear, perform its part, then disappear just as quickly.

For a moment, you wondered what Jungkook thought of the small bits of the world this window was displaying. Did he think it was just as beautiful as you did?

"It's honey, cinnamon, and milk. My mom used to make it for me when I was a kid." Though the view was timeless, you finally broke your gaze to look at Jungkook.

It was hard to imagine this man, the harbinger of almost every ounce of anger you have ever felt in your life, as a child who would drink milk with honey and cinnamon made by his mother. But then again Jungkook's face began to change, or at least the way you saw it morphed into something entirely different.

His bright eyes didn't look like they could be from this world. Not when they seemed to hold everything in his line of vision within them so warmly that it could spread magic over everything around him; like a fairy tale, but this magic rested in the two sockets of his eyes. Something so enigmatic made you want to snap at him just so he would look at you instead, and hold you in his eyes. As though to be held by his eyes would fix all your problems.

"Hm." You looked down at the cup, trying to savor each sip however ultimately failing since the honey melted in with the milk and perfectly heightened each flavor.

Without thinking, you wrapped the coffee-colored coat tighter around your body. It was blissful, sipping a cup of delight inside Cart 102, protected from the prickly wind of the winter while still being vended a view of its beauty. This train ride was almost perfect, if not for the (slightly less) bothersome burden that sat across from you.

"Looks good on you." He didn't have to specify he was referring to his jacket that was giving you comfort.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't-"

"Nah, keep it. You looked cold when you were asleep. You were shivering so much it basically sounded like you were begging for my jacket." Jungkook laughed softly.

Maybe two hours ago you would have been brimming with enough rage to rip his jacket off of you and throw it in his face because it sure sounded like he was pitying you or guilting you into a 'thank you' that you were too petty to relinquish. But now, in the morning that tamed you, stomach digesting a tasty drink given by none other than Jungkook, you let it slide.

Just this once, you thought.

"Well, that was very kind of you. And thank you for the drink, but I don't need some stranger doing me any favors."

"Wow, you sure are stubborn!" He laughed again, even though you had been nothing but uninviting of his advances, he just laughed.

"Am not." You muttered.

"Whatever you say." Just this once, you let him have the last word. Just this once.

One emptied cup of Jungkook's special later and you were energized enough to read, and hopefully retain the story rather than flipping mindlessly through the pages while you fueled your attention with rage.

Jungkook was busying himself, putting thought to paper. The quick ticks of his pencil against the wooden table was enough to earn him a passive-aggressive sigh from you, and you hoped he was perceptive enough to get the hint.

The ticks continued, even spaced out to a consistent pace as if he was beating a drum just to anger you. Your annoyance was once again brimming over, ready to spill into another display of it that consisted of a furrowed brow, a scowl, and a slew of incoherent retorts that had been brewing in your mind.

"Can't you write any quieter?" It hadn't measured up to all the clever insults you had loaded into your verbal weaponry, but it did the job to convey your frustration which obviously hadn't been communicated through your previous sigh.

"I'm not writing, actually! I'm trying to figure out the time signature for this piece. Three-six just isn't right." The pencil once tapping out a rhythm was now tucked between his teeth, and you could tell this was a habit of his from the various other tooth-shaped indents along the end of the pencil.

"Whatever, just... do it quietly."

"Quietly? This process is anything but quiet."

"Then try your very hardest."

"I'll try. Emphasis on try."

Though your eyes had reunited with your book, your curiosity pledged allegiance to what Jungkook was writing on his paper. It took an effortful battle between your urges and your restraint to finally ask him.

"What's a time signature?"

"Kind of like a rhythmic guide. For music. I'm a composer, and I'm hoping I can get this fellowship to work with professionals all around the world!" Jungkook's response came almost immediately after your question and his answer consisted of more information than you asked for, which meant this was something he was passionate about. Either that or he just loved talking about himself. It could have easily been both.

However, from the way his eyes held the world, they seemed to hold the music etched onto his paper the tightest. Like, if he were to let go then he would lose any and all purpose to hold on to anything else.

"You make music? Like songs on the radio and stuff?"

"No, not really. Songs for movies. I want to be a film composer."

"Oh. Is that why you're traveling? To study with a professional?" You surprised yourself more than him with that question.

"No... I, um. I wish that was the reason." Before asking him what his reason was, you stopped yourself from letting yet another question slip from your mouth.

Because you were supposed to hate him. Jungkook made everything difficult, even the notion of hating him was made to be a challenge. Asking him questions, learning about him, making the person in front of you turn into something with more dimensions than two was pointless when in a couple days, you'd leave this train and never see him again. Better to go back to hating him.

It wasn't as satisfying as before. Now that you've acquired some knowledge of who he was beyond an obnoxious seat hog and arrogance asshole, the reasons to hate him were beginning to be outweighed by all the other reasons to not hate him.

So far, you learned he was a musician. A passionate up and comer who gives strangers his jacket when they look cold, and shares a drink of milk and honey and cinnamon because it reminds him of his childhood. Someone who has made biting his pencil into a habit when he was working through a thought, who would often stare out windows and saw all the stars you couldn’t; someone who was quick to try to make friends with even the most emotionally withdrawn people.

Shortly after taking more time than planned on recounting all the things you learned about Jungkook, you felt indebted to him since he only knew two things about you. 

You were stubborn and you had a sick mom. Or at least, you believed these were the only parts of yourself he picked up on. The rest were things he’d observed with an attentive eye of which you had not noticed had been studying your mannerisms in the same way you studied his. 

When you left the cart abruptly after he mentioned the thunderstorm that was somehow delayed for tonight, he was correct to assume it was because you were afraid of the storm. Now, whether it was the thunder or lightning that rattled you so viciously you had to walk off your fear was yet to be discovered. Jungkook was confident he’d figure it out.

Or, how he watched you when you were sleeping in a way he wouldn’t describe as creepy since it was endearing to see you sleep. In fact, he was doing his best to ignore you, but your muffled groans had revealed to him you were the type to have the occasional nightmare. Again, the dream itself was something he was more than interested in discovering.

And your adorably executed performance of passive aggression didn’t evade him in the way you presumed it did. He heard the sigh and understood exactly what you were attempting to accomplish with that, but decided to act like your effort to shut him up wasn’t completely transparent. Mostly because he wanted you to ask him what he was doing. 

Jungkook wasn’t ready to admit it yet, but he enjoyed the way you spoke, even if it was drenched in a thick layer of annoyance. For now, he decidedly stuck with finding innocuous ways to fall back into a conversation with you, to slowly but surely learn all that he could in this three-day train ride. 

At half-past three, lunch had been served, consumed, and digested. Jungkook’s plate, however, was just short of being completely gone. Everything had been notably ravaged by him except for the pile of walnuts he picked out of his salad at the beginning of the meal.

“Not a fan of walnuts?” You convinced yourself this question came from a place that was starting to feel queasy from the silence that was more intoxicating than the small glass of complimentary wine you downed a little too quickly. 

“Allergic. Nothing too serious, though. My throat gets itchy and sometimes I get a rash on my skin.” You made a mental note that Jungkook was allergic to walnuts, which you stored in the part of your brain that harbored knowledge that was completely useless to you yet you still reserved space for it to be memorized.

“That sucks.” 

“Yeah, but it did come in handy when I was in class and didn’t want to be. I’d tell the teacher the cafeteria food had walnuts in it and I needed to go home and get my EpiPen before I died.” The list of things you knew about Jungkook continued to lengthen, and you couldn’t specify when it happened, but you began to enjoy every detail that made the list grow. 

You wouldn’t have guessed it would take a single day for you to wish it would never stop growing. But then again, you didn’t realize this at the time.

“And that worked? Sounds like you had your luck laid out for you from the beginning.” Jungkook smiled at this, the same bunny-toothed smile from yesterday, but it felt much different to you now, as if you were one smile away from forgetting your once insistent hatred of Jungkook. 

“Yeah, I guess so. What about you? What are your allergies?”

“Other than overly friendly weirdos on trains? Nothing.” It was the strangest reaction to feel proud, of all things, when you were rewarded by his laugh. It was softer than the wind rushing against the side of the train, however his laugh outperformed every other sound in the surrounding area until it was all your ears could focus on.

“Then it seems you’re the lucky one. No allergies. Free to eat whatever you want.” His eyes parceled between the sheet music in his hands and you. Though, it was difficult to pull them back down to his work since this was the first time he had your undivided attention that was not born from annoyance or repulsion to whatever he was doing. 

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m free to eat whatever. I have standards.”

“Really?” It was his not-so-discreet way of trying to capture all the pieces of you that he could, but from your slow intake of air, it seems as though you weren’t entirely finished with talking to him either.

“Cilantro. It’s absolutely disgusting. And mushrooms. I can’t stand mushrooms.”

“I love mushrooms.” Of course, you do, you thought. He didn’t have to say it, but he most likely loved cilantro as well. And you were most definitely right. 

“I suppose you love everything I hate?” Eye contact with Jungkook was more than you could handle ever since his mannerisms stopped annoying you and started intimidating you, so you found refuge in the scenery beyond the window. It never failed you during the day, but at night you would have to scavenge for something to stare at when Jungkook’s eyes were close to stealing your breath away. 

“I suppose you hate everything I love.” 

It took a careful eye to catch the subtle hints of emotion that even you were too distracted to notice. Jungkook’s eye was trained pretty well in observation of the hidden traces of even the most thoroughly subdued emotions. His eyes were so well versed in gathering the scarce evidence of emotions that it prompted him to ask his next question:

“What are you looking for?”

Now, your eyes were still averted by his, so you held on to the slowly fading daylight while you still could. But, sadly, the window was a distraction of sight, not sound, so you heard his question loud and clear and felt obligated to give him an answer. Even if your answer was pathetic.

“Just looking at the grass. It’s pretty.”

“I didn’t ask what you were looking at, I asked what you were looking for.” 

Determining what emotion you let slip through the quiver in your lip was a task Jungkook wasn’t well equipped for just yet. In all fairness, he had only known you for a short while and he still felt disappointed in himself for not being able to know what he made you feel with that question. 

“I don’t know.” You couldn’t help the stunned tone of your voice, but that was all that could fuel your words at the moment. “I guess… A distraction. It’s so beautiful out there.”

“Everything looks beautiful when you only have a small amount of time to admire it.” Whatever distraction you were looking for had certainly met your eyes and did its job since you had absolutely no clue he was staring right at you when he said that. That he was savoring the small amount of time he had to admire you.

Jungkook was right, which was a habit of his that he took unrestrained pride in; life was beautiful when you moved through it with such little time to spare. Though slamming your hand in a doorway was something you would sooner do than admitting he was right.

The fabric of time moved in a peculiar fashion when inside a train. You move so fast and yet, not at all, and it is as if there is a tear where the train moves through, and evades the grips of each minute that transports the future into the present and the present into the past. It felt this way the moment you stepped onto the train, so when you checked the time, it didn’t surprise you that it was already an hour before midnight. 

The daytime had slowly melted away, carefully, the way ice shrunk inside a glass of water until it combined with its surroundings, and the plains of grass could only exist in your memory right now. The blackness of night consumed everything beyond your window once again, though there was the occasional streetlamp that provided a glimpse of everything you couldn’t see as of now. 

What you couldn’t see was nowhere near as frightening as what you were about to hear. 

The first flash of lightning felt like a warning. It took a few seconds for the wretched boom of thunder to follow, which was the interval of time you foolishly hoped it would, just this once, fail to accompany that streak of light. That perhaps this train moved quick enough to outrun the storm.

“___? Are you okay?”

You didn’t notice your hands had immediately cupped your ears until Jungkook’s voice was filtered through as a jumble of indiscernible noises.

“Sorry, I just…” Steadying your breath was a toll that required an upfront payment of all your attention, so your previously muted voice and steady tone had gone out of the metaphorical window, along with the rest of your response.

“So it’s the thunder.” Jungkook said softly to himself. It didn’t matter since your hands were being utilized as makeshift earplugs. They seemed to deflect every sound except for the thunder that punctured through your barrier effortlessly. 

Before, Jungkook had this preconception of you. From the minute he stepped into Cart 102, he could tell you were the type to carry yourself steadily, the type that supplied their own assurance and isolated their emotions in the same way you isolated yourself. But here you were, hands clamped against your ears, eyes pressed shut and body shaking; this was a surplus of emotions you let seep through your walls. It was expressive enough for any dimwitted onlooker to know exactly what you were feeling: pure fear. 

And Jungkook had always been adept to telltale signs of what was buried beneath the obvious emotions. He could tell you wanted to be distracted. You needed help.

It was easier to stifle one sense if you stifled them all at once. If you didn’t want to see, you had to plug your ears and hold your breath. And in this case, to block out the sound, you had to shut your eyes and numb the rest of your body in the slim chance that the thunder wouldn’t penetrate through your poorly constructed firewall. 

Suddenly, you felt the space beside you sink lower which meant Jungkook had taken the liberty of invading your space at the worst possible time. It was difficult to focus on blocking out the sound when you could feel the side of his shoulder bump lightly against yours. 

“___.” You shifted towards him slowly, waiting for his explanation of why he was on your side of the cart. “Can I touch you?”

You were past your wit's end, spending the last bits of your sanity trying to calm yourself from the second crash of thunder that made your body lift from the seat for a solid two seconds. All you could do was nod, and hope he wasn’t a serial killer that was about to strangle you to death in a moment of vulnerability. 

He was working in your favor, just like when he wrapped you up in his coat and set that cup of milk in front of you, he moved in determination to comfort you. And if it weren’t for the dire circumstances, your pride would have refused the security of his arms that were carefully enveloping your body and eliminating the frigid space around you. You hadn’t realized how cold this train was until you were invited into Jungkook’s warmth. He had somehow silenced the storm, and all you had to do was let him. 

The third blast of thunder pushed you deeper in his embrace, and you wrapped your arms around him tightly like the lifejacket he was that kept you from slipping below the surface of the angry ocean currents. 

“If you couldn’t tell I-” Boom, “I hate thunder.” Your voice came out strained through the fear-induced filter lodged in your throat.

“No, actually, I couldn’t tell at all.” Nine out of ten of your thoughts were concentrated on the thunder, and that one exception was applied towards how annoyingly sarcastic Jungkook managed to be through thick and thin. It was impressive enough that he could subtract the fear even by a small fraction for you to laugh. 

“You’re so-” Boom, “You’re insufferable.”

His laugh was noticed through the gentle bounce of his chest that rocked your head more than the actual sound of it. Soon, a hand came to run through your hair and with each stroke, he somehow removed your terror layer by layer until you were afforded with indifference to the storm simply because you were lulled into a half-sleep and were now too exhausted to care about the thunder. 

“You’re okay. Everything is okay. You’re doing great. Breathe deep.” His chest smelled the same as his coat. A fire burning so brightly, sending the aromas of everything it consumed into the air.

Now your attention belonged to the warmth of his arms, and how he moved his hand through your hair with something deeper than kindness. It was selflessness because he too was scared and tired and in need of rest. Despite this, he used the last of his energy to ward off the threat of a second panic attack. 

“Thank you.” You whispered into his chest, and it seemed as though it permeated through his flesh and ribs and absorbed straight into his heart from the way he held you even tighter. 

The storm had settled, and the horrors of loud thunder were abandoned for quite some time now, but it felt too comfortable, too perfect for you to be anywhere else but here in his arms. So, what went unsaid was more than enough for him to retract any intention to return to his seat and instead hold you against his chest, where his heart would retain strength from being close to you. 

You couldn’t tell if you had already slipped into a dream when you heard him singing softly, or if the melody of Dream a Little Dream of Me was actually being crafted by his voice so beautifully and fell into perfect synchronization with the rhythmic beat of his heart. Either way, you were thankful to bear witness to a sound that reduced the idea of thunder down to something that could never hurt you again, and instead made seeing all the stars the heavens could offer possible even through the darkest nights. You felt a well of tears moisten your cheeks.

In his arms, with his voice, you could see the stars.

Back in the dimmed hallway of the train, you could make out the outline of a figure standing in the distance, waiting for you. Waiting, but about to run out of time. You saw her slowly disappear the way wind would rustle the dying leaves off a tree in autumn. Slowly her body was wilting, disappearing, and the wind only picked up speed. 

All you could think to do was run to her, your mother, the shell of a woman you had known and loved your whole life. Her frail body being stripped of flesh as easily as wind undresses a tree of its leaves until there is nothing but branch and bone.

The walls began to close again, and you knew you had to act faster. You had to push past the pressure of closing walls even if they were squeezing so tightly movement became impossible. All at once, the impossible became your burden to redesign into something possible, which was the only thing crushing your spirit more than these damn walls.

You were so close; you held your hand out and—

Day Two

Winter mornings always start the same. Your eyes began rediscovering sight before the rest of your senses flooded into function, then your stomach would get angry for digesting nothing but its own acid until you filled it. And just like yesterday, your pillow cushioned beneath your head on the seat and your body shielded from the rogue winter winds that snuck inside of your cart by the same bonfire scented coat.

“Rise and shine.” Jungkook said from behind the sheet music he was examining. He must have been stealing glances of you every five minutes or so to catch the moment you’d finally wake up.

“Time?” Part of you didn’t want to get up. Part of you, the more persuasive part, wanted to remain tucked under Jungkook’s coat and slip back into a light sleep. If it weren’t for the hot drink waiting for you on the table then you would have done just that.

“Nine. A little later than yesterday.” You sat up eventually, wrapping the coat around you, and for a moment life was comfortable on the train. So much so that you didn’t mind how your hair was in complete disarray. 

Jungkook enjoyed seeing you this way. When you had first woken up and didn’t wear the usual veil of detachment from the rest of the world. Your guard had surrendered to your sleep ridden body. He guessed very few people saw you like this, natural and raw and untouched by the pressure to be presentable, and counted himself lucky, just like you would say, to be one of those few.

“Thanks, again.” You said softly into the warm cup between sips. “How much?”

“No. It's okay.”

“But-”

“Seriously! Don’t mention it.” He was firm, but that didn’t stop the gentle smile that crept its way back onto his face. You didn’t know what to say other than the thanks you had already said, so you just kept drinking. It was still just as delicious, but today familiarity was peppered into the milk among the honey and cinnamon which gave it that much more reason to love it.

“You get up this early every day?” You asked, because you were at a loss for words but felt less comfortable without hearing his voice to accompany the brisk, quiet morning. 

“Usually I do. I like the morning. It feels like I have the world to myself before everyone else wakes up.” Charming. It was the last thing that came to mind when you would picture Jungkook. Now, however, it seemed to be the only characteristic that came to mind when you thought of him. 

Sitting in front of you, half mindedly scribbling notes onto the staff and half his attention expended on sharing the small ways he saw the world, he was just charming. As easily as he once drove a blunt edge of annoyance into your chest, he erased every bit of evidence that he could ever be anything but charming.

“Sorry to steal the morning from you. I gotta wake up sometime.” You felt entirely unpracticed in the realm of light, friendly conversations, and that was evident from the way you wanted to gag at your own response to his. What you thought was a tasteless, almost pathetic attempt at banter was, to Jungkook, another reason to enjoy the morning. 

“I’m glad it’s you that I have to share it with.” Jungkook certainly sat higher on the hierarchical scale of wit compared to you, but even that didn’t agitate you in the way it would have before. What was more shocking than that was the fact that you felt the muscles in your cheeks changing your flat lipped expression into a smile.

“Flattery gets you nowhere, Jungkook.” You responded that way only to save face. It was a habit of yours you didn’t realize you were doing until the words had already been deployed by your tongue.

“It seems to have gotten me a smile from you. Those are hard to come by.” You jerked your head quickly over to him, the same grin stained with smugness there to meet your surprised ‘o’ shaped mouth. 

He was right again. Your smiles have always been punctuated lately, but you were too busy paddling through every distraction available to even notice.

“Very funny.” Your voice was low enough for Jungkook to nearly miss it. Once the soft tone of your voice delivered to his ears, he looked away from his sheet music to mine through your face like a cavern, searching for the hidden bits of the treasure-like emotions strewn in along the subtle details. 

“What’s wrong?” It was a leap of faith, his question, a leap that sent him plummeting blindly into the depths of everything he craved to know about you. 

“That thing you said the other day.” Your expression was unreadable to the whole world. But inside the train, the whole world rested just on the other side of the window. There was no reason to come off as impassive, cold, or unconcerned, to care so much about trying not to care. “About going home.”

“Mhm?” You waited to see if he had anything to say, anything to stall what was about to escape from your lips. You knew it wouldn’t take long for your thoughts to go rogue, especially when he made you smile like that. 

“I’m angry.” He gave you a look that said ‘no shit’ without having to actually say it. It made you nervous, but still willing to go on. “You're right. I didn’t visit home ever until now. I thought I grew out of it. I thought I became someone too big to fit in a town so small and stuck in its way. But I was never too big, I don’t think I ever actually grew. Because when I got the call, after stupidly ignoring it a hundred times before, I felt like the same child. So scared of the idea of a world without their mother. So, yeah, I’m angry. I’m angry I could be arrogant and stupid enough to think I could live the rest of my life never looking back.”

Jungkook just watched you, with those eyes that held the world. His eyes were holding so much right now when they were looking at you. So much weight from a source he couldn’t define with his own intuition. So much weight, he couldn’t understand how you had been shouldering it on your own this whole time, if he couldn’t stand a few minutes holding it now. 

“Going back home.” You scoffed. “It's not about looking back. It was never about that. I think returning to something familiar is almost just as scary as fleeing somewhere new. All your past mistakes and demons that you have to face…”

“Demons. Is that any way to talk about your mother?” It was his way, unique to Jungkook alone, to litter in a bit of lighthearted teasing even when he was supposed to be serious. As if he couldn’t stand to let the air in Cart 102 become too damp with sadness, as if his heart wouldn’t have been able to handle it.

“I made a mistake. I spent too much time away, and now the last way I’ll see her is weak and sick. That���s my demon. My mom was just unfortunate enough to be the arbiter of it.” 

Jungkook wanted to tell you that if he could, he would take all your pain away and send it back into the universe to find someone else to harbor it. Someone who deserved to feel a loss so heavy, because he knew just by looking at you that you deserved none of it. But he held his overly romantic tongue for now in regards to easing you into him smoothly. Since he had come such a long way with you, making gentle strides to win your affection, it would be greedy of him to tarnish that by saying something as outrageous as that, even if that was truly how he felt.

“Come with me. I have an idea.” It would have been easy to refuse him, to swat his hand away and never speak to him again for the rest of the train ride. But what prevails after the wear and tear of expecting the worst and knowing the painful and permanent scars it will leave you is the trust of someone who turned scowls into smiles, who held his hand out to you and waited for you to take it kindly.

Those tales they tell about feeling sparks when you make contact with your soulmate were decidedly wrong. Wrong to you, because when you touched Jungkook’s hand, you felt those sparks nestling under your skin and learning its way through the rest of your body. Wrong, because Jungkook was no soulmate of yours, just an unlikely stranger you met on a train once. 

And yet, you couldn’t help but wonder, you couldn’t help but hope he too felt these sparks that supposedly meant nothing.

Jungkook pulled you into the hallway, which was brighter than the way it looked in your dreams. At the end of the walkway, there was no ghost resembling your mother, and the walls weren’t closing in, and instead of pushing through alone, you had Jungkook holding your hand tightly, and graciously guiding you down.

“This way.” He whispered, and you mimicked the stealth in his voice through the way you muffled the sound of your feet hitting the train floor, which felt less like water and more like sand with him; soft yet solid sand.

You arrived at an unattended area of the train. The only hint of what Jungkook was up to was that grin. That grin was too playful to be a grimace, and too mischievous to be a smile. That grin that you hadn’t noticed you were looking forward to seeing, the same one you could sense you would miss when the train arrived at its destination. That when he grinned, you finally found the courage to return it. Needing no conditions or second guesses, you were just you, somehow smiling on the train that was taking you to your sick mother. And it was all because of him and his stupid, lovely grin.

“What are you doing? Are we supposed to even be here?” 

“Shh, we’ll get caught.” He began to wriggle with the door handle until it opened. 

“So we’re not supposed to be here! Jungkook, let’s go before we get kicked off!” To silence you, he simply held his hand up. You pouted your lip but did as he commanded. 

Inside the door, there was a collection of all the food meant for purchasing. Your assumption was confirmed that Jungkook had no intention of paying for the bags of pretzels and packets of cookies he was stuffing into his pockets. Hands full with quite the assortment of foods, he looked to you and raised his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Come on, put these in your pockets! Hurry.” He held the food out towards you. There was no convincing him to put all the stolen goods back, and there was no convincing yourself to not go along with his sinfully sweet plan. 

The fast-paced walk back to Cart 102 was the most exhilarating thirty-five seconds of your life. Jungkook looked all too calm, like spontaneity fell into his hands naturally or like it was a birthright, belonging to his life from the beginning. Life with Jungkook, even if the short span of time he’d claimed part of yours was fleeting, was the most excited and fearless you had ever felt. 

Jungkook and you emptied the haul of food onto the table. For a second, they went untouched only for the two of you to admire your successfully pirated goods. Then, for the first time on the train you met eyes with Jungkook and laughed.

It was the sort of laugh that exercised muscles in your abdomen you weren’t aware that you had in the first place. The kind that began at the top of a hill, and with one push it was tumbling faster and faster, growing louder and wilder. 

Jungkook was laughing too, a sound which could qualify as the only competitor to surpass the beauty of his singing. And whatever music he was scribing onto the paper would have to be beyond masterful to sound anything close to as immaculate as his laugh.

“I can’t believe we just committed grand larceny.” The words came out of your throat between fits of laughter, eyes now with an abundance of happy tears.

“Woah there, “‘grand”’ is a stretch. I like to think of it as unlawful borrowing.” The rest of the afternoon was spent with celebratory feasting of your unlawfully borrowed goods. Your favorite was the packs of chocolate mints, and Jungkook had cleverly avoided eating them when he noticed how much you liked them. 

When dawn arrived, Cart 102 settled into a comfortable silence, now consisting of you reading your book tempered by a glance out of the window every few pages and Jungkook tapping his pencil against the wooden desk while marking up every blank space on his page. To anyone else, including the likes of you, the page was nothing but a jumble of incoherent scribbles. To Jungkook, it was his next masterpiece; the best idea he made tangible on paper and hopefully soon, audible when someone agreed to commission it.

“Done!” 

His remark startled you, being that there had been no warrant for him to exclaim his progress with the music he was working on. You chuckled softly, closing your book and looking back to Jungkook.

“Done with what?” 

“This song. I know this one will sell. I just know it! It’s perfect.” Jungkook’s passion was bursting past the seams of his body. “I just wish… I wish I had more time.”

“What does that mean?” Again, all he offered was the same grin, and that was all you needed in order to know he wouldn’t be dropping any more hints on the account of your curiosity. 

“It means this train ride is ending tomorrow, and I’ll have too much on my plate to work on anything else. So this right here,” He held up the paper with the same tact one would for a pile of pure gold, “Is my last chance to get my work out there for a while.”

For reasons born from an unidentifiable place, you felt like crying. Last chance. It sounded serious. Something you weren’t ready to know and something he wasn't ready to tell. So, instead of pestering the answer out of him, you let him have his secrets. You let him have all the secrets he had somehow gotten out of you. 

And somehow, you were okay with it. Just this once.

Jungkook said he was taking a quick nap. Quick must mean something entirely different where he was from since it lasted about three hours and counting. For someone who had nothing to do but sit on a train all day, he sure was tired. It would have concerned you had it not been for witnessing how much energy he exerted into writing his music, as if each tap of his pencil required the same amount of energy as running an entire mile.

You were looking out of the window, which looked like it had been coated with tar. The departing sun left no remnants of its light and the moon must have been situated on the opposite side of the train, so it was up to the stars to illuminate your view of the world. But, outside the train was dark. Dark, and almost pitch black.

The first few specks were thought to be a hallucination that bloomed from your own wishful thinking. But soon, there were more and more twinkling lights dusting the sky and that outshined any doubt you had before. The stars were so bright and glimmering clearer than you had ever seen. Only something so beautiful, something that ingrained itself into the grooves of your brain to keep forever, could elicit the gasp that came louder than expected.

“Woah.” It jolted Jungkook awake and you would have felt bad if he weren’t already supplied with three and a half hours of extra sleep. 

“What?” His voice was hoarse from being unused for such a long interval.

“The stars! I can see them! They’re so bright, Jungkook. So bright.” The tears began to form in part from the lack of blinking and in part from how happy you were to see the stars. The same stars your mother was probably looking at and the same ceiling of glitter that loomed protectively over you and Jungkook. They were more than just constellations tonight; they were a celestial map navigating you back home and an astronomical assurance that everything would be okay. Even if the worst happened, everything would be okay.

“They are. They’ve been bright for a while. It took you long enough to notice.” Your smile was not yours to control anymore. It was a small price to pay considering you had a world full of stars to last you a lifetime.

“I guess I haven’t been trying as hard to see them as I thought I was.”

And you turned to him, which was the only thing besides the starlit arena above you and Jungkook and the train you’d rather be looking at right now.

“I can’t wait to go home. I miss it so much.” It was the first time you said it out loud, as well as the first time you were able to admit that to yourself. 

“I’m glad you feel that way. You should feel that way.” 

“Thank you.”

There were a plethora of reasons that prompted that thank you. Far too many reasons that were decidedly unfit for just a single thank you. So, you concluded that the thank you was for Jungkook; for becoming a part of your life. For every decision he made on this train that rearranged your feelings towards him into something pleasant. Something that felt warm and safe.

Tonight, the last thing you saw before slipping away into sleep was all the stars that weren't at your disposal before. Every silvery diamond brandished along the expanding sky was so mesmerizing, you wished you could imprint them into the backs of your eyelids when they eventually lulled you into a calm slumber. That and the memory of Jungkook’s rendition of Dream a Little Dream of Me set on repeat in your head. 

This time, you weren't trapped in the confines of a dark train hallway. You were standing in the middle of a grassy field, laden with a diverse collection of wildflowers. The mellow green hues seemed to lift from the blades of grass, stretching into the air around you.

And your mother was there. She wasn’t being blown away by the wind. Just like the sturdy trunk of a tree, she stood with dignity and conviction at the top of the highest hill that provided a view of your hometown; it was the most beautiful you had ever seen her. 

“Mom!” The way you were running felt more like gliding, or flying even, because you moved through the wind without a bit of resistance. Your body was frictionless and unstoppable. And when you finally fell into your mother’s arms, it was the most freeing feeling in the world. 

“I’ve missed you so much. I thought you were going to leave me.” The blue sky that sealed you and your mom into the earth made a stunning partner for the fields of green underneath you. 

“I’m always with you, darling.”

It was difficult to decide whether the sound of her voice or the sentiment behind it made you cry, so you decided not to decide at all, and instead, you simply let yourself cry. Everything was so beautiful, but still not complete. 

“Mom, I feel like something’s missing.”

“There is.” She responded, but it wasn’t a question. Your mom was not your mom, just a figment herself cultivated by your own mind. She was one with you, and she knew exactly what was missing. 

“Where do I find it?” Her hands cupped your cheeks, just like she would when you were young and crying over a scraped knee.

“You know, love. You know.” 

The wind pulled a gentle melody from the spaces between the leaves. A melody you were quite familiar with and grew to love. It slowed, then everything was silent.

Day Three

Waking up came to you in a hurry, as if you shouldn’t spend another second living life through dreams because today was the last day on the train. The last day you’d spend with Jungkook, and possibly the last time you would ever see him.

It was uncharacteristic of you to feel this way. Disappointed at both yourself and your situation. You knew from the beginning that this was a temporary arrangement, and Jungkook was not a permanent fixture in your life. In fact, you used to be thankful for those circumstances because you hated Jungkook. 

But, of course, you went ahead and let him in. You let him buy you tasty drinks, hold you during thunderstorms, and offer you a coat, a smile, a laugh when everything felt cold. You let him ripple currents of fun into your life, but that would be giving yourself too much credit, you suppose.

Because it was never a matter of allowing him to do any of this. He did all of those things, and more, all by himself.

What was even more uncharacteristic of you was greeting the early morning before Jungkook. He was sound asleep, with skin being lightly freckled by the glints of sunlight shimmering through the gaps in the clouds. The morning sun was always docile, kindly shedding light in a way that wouldn’t pull sweat from your skin like it did in the afternoon.

You liked the sight of him sleeping, mostly because it was one of the few moments of the day when he was completely silent, and those were rare.

“Better take this opportunity.” You whispered to yourself before getting up, covering Jungkook with the coat, and heading to the concession stand you had raided with Jungkook yesterday. 

Wondering if the workers noticed the missing inventory, you idled by the counter before ordering but they all looked too tired to care to serve you let alone realize a quarter of the chocolate mint packs were taken.

“Hi, two warm milks with honey and cinnamon please.” The attendant seemed to appreciate how closely your voice was to a whisper. He sluggishly poured two steaming cups of milk and sleeved them before exchanging them for the money already placed onto the counter. 

“Honey and cinnamon are over at the self-serving station.” You followed to where his finger was aimed towards and nodded politely with the two cups in each hand.

You didn’t know why, but imagining Jungkook making this drink himself, instead of ordering it premade, ranked this act as something more motivated than customary kindness. Because getting these drinks wasn’t simply walking to a stand, purchasing, and walking back to Cart 102. There was now an erroneous step you hadn’t accounted for. The act of making milk with honey and cinnamon. 

As you scooped a spoonful of honey to mix into the creamy liquid, one of your mother’s many proverbs rang in your ears, as if she was standing right beside you saying it.

“When you make food for someone, it’s just another way to express that you love them!”

It froze you for a second. Recalling what she would say when you would throw together a meal for the pair of you when she was too tired to. She worked so hard as a single mother, so every shortcoming felt like a colossal failure, no matter how little it mattered to you. And she would always say that to you because ‘thank you’ just didn’t cut it.

This was the first thing you made for someone other than your mother and yourself. But, there’s no way it was because you loved him. 

Just this once, you thought. Just this once I’ll make food for someone that I don’t love.

You were relieved to greet a still sleeping Jungkook when you returned to your cart. The cart you studied closer, because you were about to leave it and wanted to retain all the details that you could before it became a memory you would only visit when you were feeling reminiscent.

The beige walls, the small table where you would read and Jungkook would compose, the stiff leather seats that you had surprisingly gotten used to, and the large window that gave you a glimpse of the blurry world waiting for you.

Jungkook’s groan snapped you out of your trance. Before he regained full cognizance, you placed the cup in front of him so you’d be able to boast that you had woken up before him and had the morning all to yourself for a moment. That now you were the one sharing the world with him.

“What’s this?” He said groggily. 

“You know.” You tried your best to mirror his smugness, the way he would sip his drink after sending a witty one-liner through the air like it was no big deal to him. 

Before you became lost in the person you changed into with Jungkook, a person that felt more like a fun costume to wear when you didn’t feel like being yourself anymore, the more neurotic and controlling part of you fell back through when you remembered that the measurements of the ingredients might have been off.

Maybe you had gotten the drink entirely wrong, so your deed would shrivel down to a failed act of kindness. Nothing at all your mother would consider a gesture of love. And that was more frightening than any blast of thunder.

“It's delicious.” Jungkook said out of nowhere, almost as though he knew he was interrupting your thoughts. Breaking them down into a powder thinner than flour, so he could blow all your worries away with one puff of air. He wasn’t lying either, it was delicious.

You spent a gracious amount of time and energy avoiding the book you were meant to finish during this train ride. Instead, your efforts were fully consumed by the last person you thought would ever be the center of your attention. At least, you thought if he were going to be the focus of it, then it would have been because you were mentally berating him for reasons that didn’t bother you much at all anymore; in fact, they started becoming admirable.

“If you could run faster than a train, where would you go?” He asked.

“Paris. Or Italy. I'd just have to figure out how to run on water.” You earned a good laugh from Jungkook with that comment. And finally, you felt like you were beginning to find your niche in conversations, and it relied heavily on sarcasm.

“I’d love to see the day when ___ walks on water.” 

“What about you? Where would you go?”

“I would make my legs take me straight to Carnegie Hall and force the organization to play one of my pieces.” Each word was formed by his tongue as if he had that response rehearsed a hundred times over. Jungkook knew exactly what he wanted, and given the chance, he would use any and every asset to get him there.

That alone was why you fell into something deeper than attraction. Why you began to take notice of things about him that weren’t of importance before. And why your intentions to observe how the world designed this man to be so stunningly unique was less cryptic than you’d hoped.

Maybe if you noticed how his white button-up was undone down to his sternum and tucked into the waistband of his slacks tastefully, then your heart would have taken a quicker pace long before now. If you noticed how his jet black hair was gentle and fluffy when it draped over his eyes, then you would have been frustrated with yourself sooner for not seizing the chance to introduce your fingers to its texture. And if you noticed how the ridges along his palm looked perfect to be held in, then you would have savored every second he held you the night of the storm. There was an astonishing number of details about Jungkook, about as many as the stars in the sky, that would have made you mountains more intimidated to even speak with him. 

One of the attendants left all your observations of Jungkook scattered when she peaked her head through to give the two of you an update on your arrival.

“Looks like we’ll be getting in earlier than expected!” In theory, that was a blessing. You’d get to finally deboard the train and be with your mother. Though, you’d be lying if some piece of you wanted this train to continue west until there was no more land to travel on; and if you could, you would redistribute each part of this train to assemble a boat, so you could sail Jungkook across the seven seas. “Our arrival will be in twenty minutes! I hope you both enjoyed your trip.”

And if Jungkook felt the same way, he didn’t show it through his polite smile and nod at the attendant. 

“We’ll be getting off soon.” He said to you, though you could tell it was his way of interrogating your thoughts on the matter.

“Time moved by so oddly on the train. I didn’t even notice it was already day three.” You paused and took one last glance out of the window. “Funny.”

"It's funny,” He began, and you settled into what you knew was about to be another piece of Jungkook's mind served in the form of his delicate words, “when you're inside a train you don't feel like you're moving. Even though you are, of course. You're moving faster than you would outside of a train. But we feel like we are still because we are moving with the train. When you're in a train, you are moving with time too, so it feels rushed and stagnant all at once. When you're not inside, time moves past you. It feels better to move with time, don’t you think? It feels like you could outrun it if you wanted to, or it feels like you will never run out of time at all. That you and time are equals. But soon, we'll have to get back onto the platform, and time will move past us again, and it’ll feel like we’re running out already."

“You’re right.” You finally admitted. “We’re running out of time.” 

We’re running out of time— together, you wanted to say. However, courage and boldness was a currency you weren’t rich in. Unspoken desires and lost hopes were all you had left to tender. 

“Yeah, I guess so. Hey, I-” He hesitated as well, because when you looked at him with such wishful eyes, it made what he had to say entirely too real and all too scary. “I really liked being your travel buddy.” 

You could tell he was holding back too. That everything you wanted to say to him and everything he wanted to say to you wasn’t meant to be translated into words, that exchanging sentimental smiles was all you and he could afford. Instead, it was better to exist through the language of emotions, floating around the train, moving with time, and eventually, when you and Jungkook returned to the world, those emotions would remain with the train and travel beyond your destination. 

That’s why you let them go. Sometimes, a train is only meant to be a train. 

“Me too. Though, I have to admit I hated you at first.” 

“I know.” He grinned as you etched the most accurate memory of it in your brain as you could. 

His stance came unprecedented. The small radio tucked in his bag now sitting on the table, serenading an unfamiliar melody and overtaking the silent air inside Cart 102. Then, came his hand, extended to you just like he had yesterday. Only this time, you didn’t need to wonder what he wanted from you because you would give whatever he asked. 

You took his hand, or rather you gave him yours, and followed his gentle tug until it led you to his body, pressing away all the space once separating the two of you. Jungkook’s hand followed the curve of your waist until it landed at the small of your back while you instinctively rested yours on his shoulder. 

You and Jungkook swayed to the music until all those words about moving with time became real. The way he held you close had you immune to the passage of time. The soft brush of his breath against your cheek felt welcoming, and you would try your very best to remember the way existing felt when your skin was touching his. It was odd, dancing on a train with someone you didn’t know well enough to call a friend but weren’t estranged enough to call an acquaintance. Again, it felt like you were in between two walls, stuck, trying to out-think your way through a collapsing maze of judgement. 

Though, no matter how odd it was, it stopped neither you nor Jungkook from holding onto each other for the last few moments available. 

The train must have hit a rock, one you would like to thank because it knocked the two of you over until you had fallen into his lap, laughing so hard your bodies shook. You would have been uncomfortable in this compromising position if not for the sense of belonging fostered in the empty space in your chest while being in his arms.

Jungkook didn’t notice you were detangling your limbs from his until you were already gone, seated across from him in the same spot. 

Once, he learned in science class of this phenomenon called ‘afterimage’, which is when your eyes get so accustomed to staring at one particular thing that when you look away, the thing stained your vision in the form of a silhouette, like an echo of something your eyes grew so comfortable seeing that it stayed with you, even when you looked away.

And he knew, even when the view of you sitting across from him in this train wasn’t there anymore, he would carry that afterimage of you, always echoing in his vision like a beautiful melody he couldn’t get out of his head. Not that he wanted to let go anyway

It was sour, the cruelty of letting go. When the train began to brake, it felt like a lifetime of agony. A bitter, unforgiving slap in the face courtesy of the confines of reality, stealing you away from the shelter of a train; a place that made it so easy to be swept up in something as dazzling and impossible as magic. You were onto important things, you knew this, but it was nice to live, even if it were just for a bit, inside something as magical as Cart 102, where you could count on a generous supply of warm coats, milk with honey and cinnamon, and Jungkook.

“Well, our stop is here. Hey, how about we share a cab? Why not save some money, right?” You could only nod, because speaking would have led to tears, which would have led to a failed explanation of why you were crying.

Jungkook hailed the yellow vehicle over, the opening of his shirt widened just an inch too much to let your mind wander.

“You’re going to the hospital, right?” He asked.

“Yeah, the only one in town.” You said, knowing the driver wouldn’t need any more specifics than that. This town was so small there were a lot of singular facilities that made the layout equally difficult to be crammed into and easy to memorize. One library, one park, one church, and one hospital.

As Jungkook went to give the driver your destinations, you packed up the luggage into the trunk. Not too long after, you were side by side in the back of a cab. All you could bring yourself to do was gaze out of the window and watch all the familiar scenes of your hometown pass by, each landmark dousing you with a strong presence of nostalgia. 

No matter how sad parting ways with Jungkook was, it was good to be home.

The cab finally arrived at the hospital, and you got out not expecting the other person in the car to get out with you. Perhaps he was being polite and saying goodbye. You knew you would have done the same if his stop preceded yours.

The two of you stood in front of the entrance, gawking up at the tall building that was in desperate need of reconstruction. You turned your gaze over to Jungkook. 

“Where to now, Mr. Jeon?” You asked, since this town was small enough, and you were fluent in every secret hiding spot it had to offer, you might be able to visit him if that wouldn’t come off as too invasive.

“I'm here.” He responded just as ambiguously and ever so matter-of-factly as always. This time, you demanded to know more.

“What? What do you mean?”

“It took a long time to find a doctor that specializes in my condition.” Jungkook finally turned to you, his eyes crowded by tears. “My heart is weak, ___. I came here to get better, and hopefully, I do. I'm going to be a famous composer one day, and I’ll need a strong heart to get me to that point.” 

You felt angry at him again. For not telling you, because it felt less like keeping something from you and more like lying to you. For telling you, and making it sound like it wasn’t a big deal, that it wouldn’t break your heart into pieces weaker than his own.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It was the harsh snap he expected from you, but he was committed to keeping this a secret until he couldn’t because it was easier that way. 

“I didn’t want to admit it. I’m scared, ___. Really scared. If I don't get better…” 

“Well, you have to! Carnegie Hall is waiting for you and I didn’t waste my time getting to know you for nothing. So, you just go ahead and get better okay?” Your words were coated in anger but layered on top of something compassionate, sweet even. Sweeter than milk, honey, and cinnamon. 

“I’ll try.” He grinned again, knowing it would satisfy you for the time being. Grinning, like a goodbye gift. 

“You’re an idiot, Jungkook.” 

Before you could lose the last word, you gripped your luggage in one hand, the pillow in the other, and made your way into the hospital, leading to what you knew would be countless nights spent at the side of a hospital bed, eating foods you’d rather not eat, and watching daytime cable while taking care of your mother.

What you didn’t know was that a good portion of those nights would be spent with someone else. Someone who resided in the west wing of the hospital. 

Someone who would bring your hand to his heart, and ask you if it felt stronger, and you would always reply with ‘yes’, or ‘yes, you idiot’, even when you were terrified that one day your hand wouldn’t feel the tap of his heart against his chest. Someone who would sing to you in exchange for the times you would read to him. Someone who you would leave notes and small gifts for, his personal favorite being the packet of walnuts accompanied with a folded paper inscribed ‘for when you need to get out of class’. Someone who, when he would be having a particularly difficult night, you’d fall asleep holding hands with, and you’d wake him up with a warm cup of his signature beverage.

Someone you would inevitably begin to fall in love with. 

A month later, one of two people you loved dearly would walk out with you through those hospital doors. That person was Jungkook. And the melancholy of losing your mother to the battle between her and her cancer would also follow you, and stay with you almost as long as Jungkook had.

A year later, you would return, hand in hand with Jungkook. Every two months. It was the promise you sealed onto your mother's gravestone that you would always return every two months. Even if the weather dispatched the most terrifying thunderstorms, or your work piled a stack of paperwork high enough to reach the sky, you’d still return home.

You and Jungkook placed a bundle of wildflowers you picked on the way to her grave, sitting at the top of a grassy highland, at the base of the granite stone. She was overlooking the world, with a perfect view of you; it made you feel safe that she was watching over you, and she was watching over Jungkook and his slowly recovering heart. 

The weather was perfect. The sun blanketed everything beneath it with a generous warmth but didn't restrict the gentle breeze from tempering it. The leaves and grass moved with the wind, but your mother’s tombstone was strong and unmoving, losing no part of herself to the fluid motions of the spring air. 

“I kind of like it here.” He said softly, adorning the view of the hilltop with you. It was the morning, and it didn’t feel like he was sharing the world with you anymore. It felt like it was yours to begin with, and he was just lucky enough to be allowed a part of it. 

“Me too.” One hand was with Jungkook, and the other was with your mother.

“I think it would be a nice place to get married and raise our children. You know, after I become a world-renowned composer and all.” This would have shocked you if you had not been wishing to hear him confirm these dreams of yours for a while now. “Did that scare you? I didn’t mean to be too forward.”

“No, I think this would be the perfect place to live. Only if it's with you.” Because you knew, something was missing here without him. He made this hometown of yours finally complete in the wake of your mother’s passing. 

When you kissed him, he tasted like honey. And he would have told you that you tasted like cinnamon.

It could never scare you, because you were in love.

You were in a debt of gratitude that was deeper than the ocean. There was so much you wanted to say to him.

The town is milk. It is up to you and me, Jungkook, to provide the ingredients that will liven this town of milk into something sweeter, something survivable, something that will continue to sustain a force as powerful as love. Without the honey and cinnamon, all you have is milk. It seems we are the perfect blend of the two to make this bitter place palatable when it hits our tongues. This town needs us together in the same way milk needs honey and cinnamon. 

You didn’t say any of those words out loud. You didn’t need to. All you needed to say was:

“I love you.”

And all he needed to say was:

“I love you too.” 

[sushireads]

yoongi fic recs

this is a list of yoongi fics i’ve read and loved very much! enjoy. <3

ps. all fics with 🍙 are the ones i loved a little bit more.

“Where’s my kiss?” by @mintseesaw​

fluff | drabble | 1.6K words

A Wish Out of Water by @jimlingss​

🍙, fluff, humor, fantasy | two shots

A genie could solve all your problems. Though you wouldn’t even know exactly what to ask for - money, a warmer house, a better job, a better life? But Min Yoongi is no ordinary genie. He’s here to make your life a living hell. Too bad it was hell to begin with.

GENIE au

All I Want for Christmas by @hayjeon​

🍙 | one shot | 13K words

CEO, CHRISTMAS, SECRETARY, SINGLE DAD au

an out of bounds umbrella by @yoonsgiggle​

fluff | one shot | 10.2K words

you’re apologetic about almost blinding your university’s star point guard with the broken tip of your umbrella until you share a class with him and find out he’s a three star recruit but a four star dick or min yoongi doesn’t find your high school musical puns amusing.  

BASKETBALL PLAYER, COLLEGE, ENEMIES TO LOVERS au

aquiver by @floralseokjin​

🍙, fluff, angst, smut | series

Yoongi can’t remember the last time he was able to successfully bring himself to the point of orgasm, then Namjoon gives him a business card advertising ‘Healing Hands’, and that’s where he meets you; pretty and innocent looking, who gets paid to provide hand jobs for a living…

IDOL au

bad boys bring it to you by @yuengi

smut | one shot | 7.1K words

TATTOO ARTIST au

Black & White by @akinnie75

🍙, fluff, angst | one shot | 24.7K words

You finally confessed to Yoongi after he asked if you like him. His response is to give you a contract to sign. However, you soon realize that Yoongi manufactured your emotions and manipulated you to like him all for the sake of his senior project.

SLOW BURN au

Blackthorn Manor by @kpopfanfictrash 

one shot | 7.5K words

After becoming the assistant of professional recluse Min Yoongi, you begin to notice strange things. Noises which shouldn’t take place, shadows which shouldn’t move like they do. You’re almost convinced that you’re crazy - until something happens, something unbelievable to make you realize you’re not.

GOTH au

Blow by @inkofyoongi

smut, fluff | one shot | 5.5K words

Yoongi loves you, even if he’s never said it… but gestures sometimes speak louder than words.

BOYFRIEND au

budapest by @junghelioseok

smut | one shot | 11.1K words

over many years and across several dozen cities, you fell in love.

SECRET AGENT au

Clair De Lune by @yoonia

smut | one shot | 23K words

You were ready to leave a part of your life to move on to the next, and he is willing to give you a chance to end it glamorously. But at what cost? And will he be a part of the life you are leaving behind or will he be there for the next part of it?

—part of @bangtansmutcentral‘s In The Mood Project

ESCORT, MUSICIAN au

Cut Me Open by @hayjeon

angst, smut, fluff | two shots

—a spin-off from Cardio Palpitations

MARRIED COUPLE, SURGEON au

dancing with the devil by @minnpd

smut | one shot | 6.8K words

Easy Rebound by @ditzymax

smut, angst | one shot | 6.5K words

Yoongi is one of the star players on the college basketball team. You are the head of the cheerleading squad. The pair of you would make the most beautiful (if most cliché) couple on campus, except neither of you have ever wanted anything more than the frequent, casual fuck. Yet somehow Yoongi finds his emotions straying towards dangerous territory.

BASKETBALL PLAYER, CHEERLEADER, COLLEGE au

ego: hoe chronicles by @suga-kookiemonster

smut | one shot | 7.2K words

he was messing with you again. he was messing with you, trying to get a reaction out of you simply for his own amusement. but you refused to give it to him—refused to give him the satisfaction of playing right into his hands.

—an alternate universe of ego

COLLEGE, FRAT BOY, FUCK BOY au

eight by @cupofteaguk

🍙, fluff | one shot | 5K words

or, Eight times Min Yoongi tells you he loves you

IDOL au

First-Date BAIT! by @jimlingss

fluff | two shots

First dates are embarrassing. First dates are awkward. I’ve been through countless ones, sitting across from people who bored the living daylights out of me. It was less exciting than watching paint dry. Some dates were so utterly rude - I think you and I both know what it’s like to be on the receiving end on that. But now we both don’t have to waste our time anymore!

With First Date Bait they went out for me! Afterwards, they informed me if it was recommended to go out on a second date. It’s amazing with a 99.99% accuracy rate! That’s how I ended up meeting my husband!

First Date Bait.

Why waste your time with awkward first dates?

—part of the Service Series

Hades by @littlemisskookie

horror, smut, angst, fantasy | one shot | 9.4K words

You meet a rather dreamy- albeit annoying, new kid who sweeps you off your feet. Too bad it’s in the middle of a series of murders around town.

GREEK GOD au

heavy sugar by @kinktae

smut | one shot | 8K words

The Roaring Twenties were a time of great economic wealth and social change. But beneath the jazz music and colorful speakeasies were mafia led organized crimes and bloodstained cash. You knew this well, but try as you might, you just couldn’t ignore the dark and enigmatic gangster whose eyes lingered on you from across the room.

—part of the rewind series

1920s, GANGSTER, FLAPPER, MAFIA au

i’m not your daddy by @scriptaed

🍙, fluff | one shot | 2.5K words

learning that his daughter no longer wishes to wed him but rather his now-arch-enemy jungkook marks the most soul-crushing day your husband has ever had to endure. no one, and he means no one, is more deserving of his angel than daddy min himself, and he’s willing to do anything to earn his daughter’s heart back.

DAD, PARENT au

Ink Nemesis by @scriptaed

🍙, angst, fluff | series

As an aspiring writer drowning under the public’s radar, a click of the pen is all you need to accept your supervisor’s offer to co-write an article for the SS - Secrets Spilled, a regular section of your company’s weekly tabloid; but fabricated stories and invasive details aren’t all that you write when you discover Min Yoongi’s dirty little secret. 

FAKE DATING, IDOL, PAPARAZZI au

La Douleur Exquise by @cinnaminsvga

ON-GOING | fluff, angst, smut, fantasy | series

in which you accidentally summon an incubus in the middle of your shitty apartment and he won’t leave until you agree to have sex with him. until then, min yoongi, incubus extraordinaire, is now your sexually promiscuous and grumpy roommate. aka, the incubus au no one fucking asked for.

INCUBUS au

Melody companion by @prisczero

fluff | one shot | 3.6K words

“A soulmate story where Yoongi can hear everything that you listen to, but only if it is music.’’

IDOL, SOULMATE au

Miss Dial by @versigny 

ON-GOING | 🍙, smut | series

[11:31] You: okay so i’m texting you now like I promised instead of drunktexting yoongi and telling him how badly i want his cock tonight. Arent you proud?

[11:32] unknown number: this is yoongi, hi

FRAT au

Mixtape by @jungblue

🍙, smut, fluff, humor | one shot | 15.6K words

Two mystery students from your college run the podcast dubbed ‘mixtape.’ It’s become a sort of phenomenon around campus, listened to by almost everyone. In their most recent episode they discussed various study methods… One of them being oh so tempting.

COLLEGE, PODCAST PERSONALITY au

Next Door by @personasintro

smut, fluff | one shot | 10.3K words

Your neighbor doesn’t respect your complaints about him being loud, but you don’t let it slide so easily.

ENEMIES TO LOVERS, NEIGHBOURS au

petals by @yoonia

🍙, fluff | series

IDOL, PARENT au

see you soon by @cupofteaguk

fluff, angst | one shot | 7K words

In which you live in a world where one stroke of a pen against your skin is a signage of forever, and Min Yoongi just has really good timing 

SOULMATE au

She’s Testosterone by @jimlingss

🍙, crack, smut | series

Drop dead gorgeous, cute and sassy - you adore your best friend. But is there more beneath the surface? Who exactly is Min Yoonji?

YOONJI au

so i heard you like bad boys by @scriptaed​

fluff | one shot | 4.7K words

while others see min yoongi as the resident heartthrob of the school - quiet, resilient, and mysterious - you can’t see him as anything other than your dorky best friend since childhood; but what you don’t know is his long desire to be anything but that, even if it means becoming the bad boy in town… or at least try to.

COLLEGE, FRIENDS TO LOVERS au

stay high by @personasintro​

smut, angst | one shot | 16.5K words

You’ve to stay high to keep your ex out off your mind when he comes back into your life.

EXES au

Studio cuddle by @mintseesaw​

fluff | drabble | 1.8K words

Tired from work, you went straight to Genius Lab in the hopes of being able to cuddle with Yoongi. You did not hesitate to press the passcode of his studio, knowing he might get pissed off for interrupting him from his work.

IDOL, PRODUCER au

Sweeter than Sweet by @gimmesumsuga​

fluff, smut, angst | series

“You never would have expected someone like Park Jimin to notice you. As handsome and beguiling as he is deadly, you’re enthralled from the very moment you meet. Addicted to his kiss and his bite, Jimin opens up your eyes to a whole new world of love, lust and seduction.”

VAMPIRE au

the blue coat and cerruti 1881 (a flash fire) by @yuhdongsaeng​

angst, fluff, smut | two shots

that’s the thing about flash fires. they’re intense outbursts of flames that reach their maximum heat quickly and don’t last a long time. hell, they don’t even get to fade before they cease to exist. however, flash fires may be intense and short, but the floor beneath them is ruined forever.

IDOL au

The Truth Between Us by @jimlingss & @gukyi

🍙🍙🍙, fluff, angst, fantasy | series

a book deal should be the most exciting time of your life, but there seems to be a constant and omnipresent damper on your mood in the form of a certain min yoongi, who you would just cut out from your life, if he weren’t your editor. but then, the world shifts beneath your feet, and you begin to wonder if maybe you’ve always been looking at life from the wrong angle.

ENEMIES TO LOVERS and loads more aus— just stop what you’re doing and read this masterpiece!

want a taste by @suga-kookiemonster​

smut, humor | one shot | 18.3K words

pretzel pro. most skillful tongue in the food court world. allegedly. that’s what yoongi keeps telling you, anyway. of course, you’re reasonably skeptical of his claims—but if there’s one thing that motivates the notoriously-lethargic man, it’s proving skeptics wrong.

—part of the you never shop alone collaboration

FRIENDS TO LOVERS, SHOPPING MALL au

what you did last summer by @winetae​

smut | one shot | 33.8K words

Yoongi was fine with a lot of things—you maxing out his credit cards to buy ridiculously expensive items of clothing that you never wore more than once, you taking out his newest ride for a spin without permission, you spending an extra thirty minutes on your hair and makeup when he was running late for a dinner function.

What he was not okay with, however, was you sharing your pussy with barely-out-of-college boys who were incapable of going five seconds without creaming their pants.

No, that was where he drew the line.

↳ alternatively titled; How to Get Dick - an autobiography written by (you)

TROPHY WIFE au

back to navigation.

[bfish]

hi moon! what are some songs/quotes/images which evoke feelings of love inside of u <3 i love your blog so i'm looking forward to this!

hi darling <3 i tried to keep this short (and failed) and happy (somewhat succeeded) here u go :^)

When Emily peels an orange, she tears holes in it. Juice squirts in all directions.

“Kate,” she says, “I don’t know how you do it!”

Emily is my best friend. I hope she never learns how to peel oranges.

— Jean Little

“I love you. I want us both to eat well.”

— Christopher Citro

She peels an orange, separates it in perfect halves, and gives one of them to me. If I could wear it like a friendship bracelet, I would. Instead I swallow it section by section and tell myself it means even more this way. To chew and to swallow in silence with her. To taste the same thing in the same moment.”

— Nina LaCour

I laughed and rolled over on my back. The sky was crayon blue. I pretended I was lying on the white cotton clouds. The earth was damp against my back. The sun was hot, the breeze was cool. I felt happy.

— Leslie Feinberg

I met you and now / I am kind to myself in my sleep / and how do you explain that?

— Laura Marris

And that orange, it made me so happy / as ordinary things often do.

— Wendy Cope

“When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth.”

— Billy, age 4, from How Kids Describe Love by Ladan Lashkari

I love you. The sky is starry now, with a warm wind blowing. The roses, fossilized by now, are still standing on my table. A whole month! My little one, I am kissing you all over.

— Vladimir Nabokov

“I love swimming.”

“I know,” I said.

“I love swimming,” he said again. He was quiet for a little while. And then he said, “I love swimming—and you.”

— Benjamin Alire Sáenz

I will be able to make toast for her in the mornings. I will do my best to get it right.

— Nina LaCour

We ate, and talked, and went to bed / and slept. It was a miracle.

— Donald Hall

Then he said, “You made us memorise a poem.”

And I said, “Yes.”

And he said, “I’d like to say that poem for you.”

And it was a little poem by Emily Dickinson that he’d carried in his head, and maybe in his heart, for all those years. Over the roar of the 6 train, he yelled that poem in my ear,

— Billy Collins

I saw this and thought of you / it’s only small but I hope you like it

— @blossomfully

She thought, for one breathless second, that he might kiss her. But he didn’t. He lifted his fig to her lips. She bit where his mouth had been.

— Brit Bennett

I forget the last time I was happy like this. But that’s a good thing. I will be happy like this again, and so will you. It just shows up and you remember, suddenly, oh yeah.

— @inkskinned

Good news, I love you anyway. All the little mess and fuss of you. All the freckles and the stray hairs and uneven smile. I love your laugh and your sigh and the way you sing along to the radio. It’s all loveable. It feels so good to love you.

— @inkskinned

“I’ll take care of you.”

“It’s rotten work”

“Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

— Euripides, trans. Anne Carson

I would give you every hope back, do you know that? If I could, I’d fix us both a table for tea and we could sit under a sunbeam. And I’ll read you poetry and you could tell me - I do not chase happy, it chases me. I’ll feed you every half of every cookie. Divide up life like - one for you and one for me.

— @inkskinned

Today, the world looked beautiful again. I’m starting to remember what kept me alive last summer.

— unknown

(x, x, x, @kernjosh)

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

Prompt List #8 - Lines from love letters

All Prompt Lists

All these lines come from a book called ‘The Love of an Unknown Soldier’ which is an antique book that’s essentially a series of love letters from the Great War that were found in a dugout and published. All unsent from a British Officer to an American Nurse he met in Paris. He never told her that he loved her and presumably died before he had the chance.  

I was so many times on the point of telling you - every evening after I had left you I accused myself and spent half the night awake planning the words in which I would confess when next we met. 

I wonder if you have guessed. Surely I could not have loved you so much without your knowing. 

What right have I, who may be dead within a month, to speak to you of love? To have done so would have been the act of a coward. 

You, all the time you would have been lonely. All the time you would have been worrying about my safety. 

And yet there is still time to tell you. I have only to unhook the receiver and to telephone to you. 

Perhaps it was fate; I prefer to think that it was something else. 

You’d never guess how long I spent in polishing my belt and buttons. Yes, men are like that. 

And my emotions! Shall I be frank? They were awfully muddled. They were made up of longing, hope, doubt and the terror that I might appear absurd. 

The longing was all for you. 

The hope was that you might share my longing. 

The doubt was lest I might have idealised a memory which, when I saw you, would fade into reality. Oh, the heresy of me! 

I have spoken of the touch of your hand, but I think it was the sympathy in your eyes that touched me. 

I suppose you’ll never know how proud I was to be seen beside you. 

I felt so keenly aware of you; your beauty was almost painful. 

The paths were slippery; I took your arm at times to help you over places and laughed within myself at its reluctance. 

She does care for me a little, I told myself - that thought kept my heart singing after we had parted. 

One never hears you coming; you are absent - one looks again and you are there. 

You trusted me so much from the very first; is that a good sign from a lover? 

Strange, that I should have conquered fear in the front-line, should have lived for days quite calmly with sudden death, and yet should tremble before a girl.

The letter I shall send you will be strictly conventional and not too lengthy - it will be the kind that I might write to any acquaintance of either sex. And yet - yes, that is the thought that troubles me - we may have met and parted for the very last time. 

Since you will never read this, I will play a game; I will not send you what I write, but I will speak the truth to you on paper. 

I can at least carry the memory of these things back; they are unspoilt by any sadder knowledge. 

We stopped so long talking over dinner that by the time we reached the opera the first scene was ended. 

I am glad I met you. I am glad of the pain I shall carry back with me. 

Your face will be with me, the sound of your voice and the memory of your gentleness. 

I shall be a better soldier because we have met.

If I die, I shall die satisfied. 

I didn’t have much time to catch my train, but managed to stop long enough to order you some flowers. They were roses, deep red, the colours of the ones you wore at the opera on our last night. I bought far too many for good taste - I bought the way I felt. 

How far away you seem - how far everything seems that I have loved. 

You’re a captain in rank, aren’t you? Then you’re my superior, for I’m only a subaltern. 

There must be more in you than I have guessed; to have left luxury and come into danger just to look after other people’s babies, that took courage. 

There’s a sacredness of devotion, which goes deeper than mere beauty. 

Do you begin to understand why it is that you seem so far away? 

You can weave all kinds of fancies out of our nights if you’re in love and have an imagination. Those white flares, appearing, racing, vanishing, seem to me a phantom-city and make me think of Paris. 

The boys came in intending to buy something; they hardly noticed you at first. Then they saw you, stared and tried to spin out an awkward conversation...they’d returned to buy something else. They really returned to get another sight of you. 

You fascinated me as well. 

What are you? You are drifting away from me, becoming unreal already. 

Did you care for me at all, even for a moment? 

Did you ever picture the life to which I was going? 

Was I only an incident - some one transiently amusing, and perhaps a little pleasant? 

For me there was always poignancy in our happiness. The thought was constantly with me of our parting. Something within me kept warning, ‘it is the end - the end - the end.’/ 

If I had only met you earlier, in the days before war started, I could have made love to you honourably. But not now. 

And yet - “I wish I had married my man,” your friend said. It’s a problem. Self-interest dictates that I should tell you. That choice might be more righteous than silence; it depends on you. But because the choice would be selfish I distrust it. 

Had you stayed a moment longer I might have spoken the words which were better left unsaid. I think you knew that. 

At the cry ‘mail up’ I forsook my dignity and went out on the pretence of seeing that the teams were clear of the position. 

For a little while memories travelled back to affections and quiet.

You mean more to me than anyone in the world, yet I have never seen your handwriting. That brings home to me vividly how much we are strangers. 

I never knew a man more in love with anybody. 

Why didn’t you write to me? I had counted the days and made allowances for delays. A letter might have come yesterday; to-night it seemed certain. 

I form so many conjectures...you were busy. You did write, but forgot to post it. You posted it, and it’s held up in transit. Then there are other conjectures of another kind: that you do not care; that the knowledge that I care would come to you as a surprise; that it is the knowledge that I care that keeps you from writing. 

When I remember you like that I feel your kindness. You may not care, but you are not careless. 

To have known you as I have is more than I had counted on - more than I deserved. 

To have had love come to one in the midst of a war, was more than could have been expected. 

All my life I had waited for that; then, when one had sacrificed so many human affections, it happened. It was a gift from the gods. Though you may never know, I ought to be contented. 

I must not entertain hopes about you. To do so would be weakening. 

You have happened in my life - that should be sufficient. To have snatched one last glimpse of loyalty should make me braver; it should be like the sacrament pressed against the lips of those about to die. 

I don’t think I will write to you any more, my dear. These unposted letters, written out of loneliness are becoming a luxury which is dangerous. They make the future seem too valuable. 

I begin to realise how sweet life is - how glorious we could make it. 

A letter from you! Such a jolly letter, so full of yourself! It’s just as though you were at my elbow and I could hear your voice.

I’ve read it how many times? I can’t count. I think I know it all by heart, and yet keep on turning back to my favourite passages. 

To save France, Joan of Arc charged on horseback into battle. You go with less drama, but with an equal heroism. 

You would laugh quietly and say that I make too much of what you are doing - that it’s really very ordinary. 

You can’t love a woman and not gaze into the future. You can’t feel the need of her and be resigned to die. 

I wish I knew that you felt the need of me. In the loneliness of this existence the knowledge that there is one woman who cares supremely helps. 

I mustn’t think of you too often. 

But this is foolishness - one can’t get rid of memory. Since I can’t forget you, I must make your memory a help. 

I write you letters which you will never receive, recording the fact that I love you; but I fail to tell you. 

I persuade myself, as Benham would have persuaded himself, that it is honest and fine not to confess. 

I don’t do the passionately human thing - the thing that Jack Holt did when he won his wife. I act idealistically but, God knows, i’m by no means certain of my motives. 

It’s easy to be brave for one’s self, but to have known that you were in danger would have been intolerable. 

Could I see you I should find you changed, you say; the sleepless nights have done their work. I expect I should find you changed - as metal is tried in the furnace. 

Like every man who loves a woman, the desire of my heart was to shut you up in a cage of unreality. 

I beg you to take especial care of yourself. Don’t run more risks than you can help. 

My mind is full of you to-day. I have been trying to remember your face, the tones of your voice - all the things that make you you so essentially. 

At first, when I feel in love with you, I almost resented your intrusion

I used to mistrust love as a kind of sickness, and yet all the while - I must tell the truth - I longed for it desperately. Love always avoided me. 

I wanted to have something so worth giving to a woman: perhaps that was why I was willing to delay. 

Then a quaint little picture forms in my brain of you and me alone in a darkened room. There’s a fire burning. You’re sitting in a great armchair; i’m crouched on the floor beside you, my head against your knees. 

But one grows weary of being strong; one wants to be loved so badly, just once while there is time. 

It’s the feel of you I need, the protection, the security - the sure knowledge that I am yours, whatever happens. 

It’s you that I want - the feel of your hands touching mine in the darkness and your arms about me. 

I’m afraid i’ve been acting like the traditional Englishman; you’re the greatest pleasure I have and i’ve been taking you sadly. It isn’t much of a compliment to you and I must stop it. Unhappiness is a form of disloyalty.

You came upon me so suddenly; you awakened such longings; your very presence spoke so loudly of a future which, perhaps, I may not share; you offered all that I had once hoped for before I put hope behind me. 

Your presence to me was like St. Peter’s shadow to those sick men; it healed me, but it made me long for more than the shadow. The thought that you would walk through other cities where i could not follow, filled me with emptiness. 

I realised then what a gaiety would fill my world if I had the assurance that you loved me. 

In a vain attempt to make you a part of my world I lie awake imagining half the night. What a foolish heart I have!

How sick I am of my own pose of spurious manliness! What I want is to feel your arms about me and your lips against my eyes, whispering, ‘Mon petit.’

I know at last for certain that I am nothing and you have forgotten me. And yet there was a time when - or do I deceive myself? You could not help writing to me if you have ever cared. You are breaking the news to me slowly by your silence. Perhaps that is the kinder way to do it. 

I know that love in one who is not loved, must always seem absurd. I know that I ought to smile and bow in a gallant sort of fashion, excusing myself for having been so mistaken as to have troubled you with my affections. But the men who used to love like that loved lightly; they had scores of years before them to seek their love elsewhere. 

I love you as a man loves only once, and I may have but a few hours. 

If I come through to-morrow safely, I’ve almost a mind to write you a real love letter. I can picture you reading it, if I were to send it. Those straight brows of yours would draw together. The more impassioned I was, the more puzzled you’d become, It would all be so sudden after my carefully proper letters.

I think of you, as I shall think of you to the end, if the end comes. I do not want you less. I want you more perhaps, only not so selfishly. 

And yet there is always you, you, you, to lure me back from death. You with your grey eyes and your intense atmosphere of rest - you with your unconscious womanliness. 

Aft4er such a long wait, two nights ago I received your last letter. You hadn’t quite forgotten me. You hadn’t forgotten me at all. You have been ill, but you’re better now. 

I dreamt of you last night. It was the first time that this has happened. We were in a garden full of sunshine and roses. You were learning on my arm. We must have been married for some time, for there was no strangeness in our being together. We cam to an old stone summer-house and sat down. You sank your head against my shoulder, gazing up into my eyes, and brushing my lips with your hair.           

My heart cries out for you and hears only the silence. 

If I come through this, I have made a pledge that I will tell you. The last few months have educated me in taking chances. 

I shall never know now whether you would have loved me, or could have been made to care for me. Perhaps you did care, and were waiting for me to give the sign. 

It’s the touch of live hands, of lips pressed to lips that counts. 

I want to hold you and to say nothing. I want-                   

[sor-vette]

two, down!! (index/description)

☜ one, strike!!

☞ three, an all-out fight club!!

It was the middle of February. The month of perpetual grey and rain. It tapped against the small cubic window of your bedroom as you laid in bed reading the text.

Erik: "Meeting, you and me. Main building. Now! Wear something without any blood on it. 😘"

The phone falls out of your hands and smacks you in the middle of the nose.

"Ow."

***

You already see Erik in the distance. A bright red shirt flowing around him like a drape in the frequent bursts of wind. Across the river, he looks like a will-o'-the-wisp and you can't help but be increasingly apprehensive about what has he planned.

You get off the bus in the middle of the bridge, stop and glare at the circular high rise. Legally known as Bighit - an independent advisory firm for various claims, to the large variety of your clientele it was BH - vigilante made business. Briefly put a vast clockface with thousands of cogs spinning both on the own and tandem with others. It looked and sounded and you knew it to be an imposing organization. Nevertheless, you entertained the idea of how would this company would fall and could it be possible to burn down all the spider webs it has formed in the now 22 years of its existence.

"Good morning!" Erik beams widely, trembling in the wind. His pirate shirt not doing anything to help the situation. In his hands, there is a thick brown folder. The sight of it begins a gnawing motion in the stomach.

"What are you doing?" you ask suspiciously, studying his face for any giveaway. Which of course there were a lot. He was still young both in the field and age. The little runt was mostly brazen, often impolite and careless. But now, now, he was nervous. Maybe it wasn't even the weather that had him shaking like a leaf.

"Oh, I'm taking my enrollment review today. In 20 minutes to be precise."

What was gnawing had turned into a stone that travelled up, ignoring the gravity, and settled deep in your chest pressing down and creating a hole. A horrible numb feeling that you'd hoped you wouldn't feel again. And again. And again. And now once more.

"Oh."

You take a moment to force your voice to remain unfazed but even to your own ears, it sounds too hoarse and slow.

"Don't you need my referral?"

"I asked Olga." Yes. Olga. That's why you didn't know.

"So let's go up?" if Erik had a tail it would wag at lighting speed. He is not just nervous but positively jittery. You had seen him this happy...never. Yeah, this was the first time. When he would officially enrol in another department, at best giving you a clap on the back for all the trouble caused and moved on. In a week he would give you a distant wave, in a month maybe a nod if you passed by in a hallway, in half a year it'll be like you never even existed.

You nod quietly entering the glass doors. BH was a massive, subtly hidden maze, much like the overall organization. By the schematics and the layout, no one would give a second thought that it would be more than just an ordinary office firm. But of course, what they didn't know and what was a closely guarded secret were the literal hundreds of small alcoves and passes hidden within the walls. Meant for in case of a sudden police raid. Not to mention the literal escape tunnel that stretched underneath the river you just passed. No one knew exactly how it looked like or how it was even built. Some said it was an abandoned underground transit system from WW2, others said that it was built in the early years of the BH establishment having cost literal billions. But no one knew the truth. Even Namjoon had shrugged when you asked him, long ago already.

In silence, you both take the escalator upwards. To the 25th floor, a.k.a. the 7th department - the literal heads of the system. The building usually had hundreds of people running from one place to another but even so, this was a large commotion for an event this small.

In the doorways there stands a tall woman and you nearly bite your tongue off at the sight of her ramrod back.

"Petsch." You growl and Erik beside you throws a surprised glance.

She turns around almost immediately. As if hearing you or just sensing your presence like the ill-bred Cerberus that she was.

"Hello, .̴̭͙̪̻̈́.̸̮̟̳̐͆͘͠.̶͚̉͛.̸̺̞̉͐̈́̐͋.̶̟̻̺̽͛̒̚.̷̗̱̃.̶̮͚̼̾͜͜.̷͉̋̈́̐̔͝.̵͖͛̓͆.̷̼̲̥̙͆̊̊͝͝.̸̢͕̔.̸̜̜̲͈̅͜͠.̵̱̤̆̑͘.̸͖̰̣͈̾̊̈́́́ " Her glee is almost maniacal as she power walks towards your little group.

"Deputy Petsch. How wonderful to grace our Earthly realm with your presence. I did wonder why it looked like the skies were weeping."

"It's Chief of Staff now," she corrects getting even closer, "to no one's surprise I've been promoted while you've been demoted."

"Yes, I can see the stress of the new position. Or is that just your face?"

In the corner of your eye, you can see Erik standing completely still, his head darting from one speaker to another bemused.

"As the Chief of Staff, I'm here to evaluate your...pet." Erik gives a silent wave and Rosaline narrows her eyes, most likely not knowing what to make of him.

"What happened to Michael?" Petsch scoffs at your question.

"He retired to live with his family so much so for living a dignified life." You straighten stubbornly at the newly given information. Erik's hands are still lightly trembling, along with the file in his hand.

"Interesting. I will attempt corporation." You push out through gritted teeth but immediately get one of Rosaline's bony vulture fingers thrust in your face.

"Don't even try to sweet talk me!"

In return, you snap your fingers near her outstretched hand. A gesture you would normally never do but it was Rosaline. Anything but an abnormal reaction could ward off this lietonis off your neck. (a/n)

"I tried to be peaceful. Well then. Let's. Begin." She huffs and puffs and then stalks over to the lecture hall, her tight blonde ponytail swinging like the world's most obnoxious metronome.

Erik stands silently for a few short moments before -

"The fuck was that about?" You hide your face in the palm of your hand. If Rosaline was here for the panel review then this little fucker had no idea what was coming.

"Rosaline and I have what you would call an uncivil work relationship."

"A rivalry?"

"No, a rivalry with another woman would be inherently attractive. Rosaline just...sucks the lifeforce out of me like a goddamn Dementor." Erik chuckles at the sight of your displeasure but a quiet bell coming from within the lecture hall stills him again.

"Please all attendees take your seat! We're about to start soon!" A faceless voice calls over the crowd and the unpleasant feeling that Petsch managed to eradicate away for a moment returns worse than ever. Your own hands begin to mutely tremble. Erik looks close to passing out.

"You're going to be fine." You say gently bumping into him, "you're my trainee after all."

***

Oh, he's going to be not fine at all.

For some reason, the hall is literally stuffed with attendees.

The enrollment panel reviews despite the name, yes, was actually an open doors event. Much like an undergrad presenting a thesis it had a panel of judges and a crowd of listeners. Usually, it was limited to other potential interviewees who wanted to get a sneak peek in the twisted action to come but the number of people was 5 if not 10 times more audience than what you've ever been in.

Truth be told you never knew how friendly Erik was with other departments but even if he was a magnet surely this crowd was too massive.

With a rapidly rising anxiety, you start to pick out familiar faces. Some of them your trainees and previous teammates, some who gave you a stink eye, and then some with whom you didn't want to interact.

On the third row there sits Jungkook and sweet Jesus what were they feeding him in the footsoldier department. He was now almost twice as large as he had been when you last saw him. One tap of those arms and you'd be in an automatic knockout. Behind him sits Jimin, also looking confused as to why he's here. Which is somehow even more offputting considering he's the one who decided to be here. In the back rows, there is Jin, face hidden in his hands, large sunglasses pushed atop of his head. The only reason why you recognize him at all is that those very sunglasses had "JIN" in large letters above the rim. Naturally.

At this point, your insides are just a gaping screaming void of pure social terror as you start to suspect they were all here. While scanning the crowd you notice an orange fleck that is surrounded by a gaggle of students who eagerly listen to every falling word. That would be Hope. And far closer to the seat that you wanted to take sits V. For reasons unknown he was perched in the first row, fiddling with the strap of the camera. The last thing you want is to meet that vitriolic, judgmental stare of his but it would be unfair to Eric to sit anywhere else. The supervisor, even the one who had no idea that the review was taking place and did not actually write the referral, always sat in the front. The little scamp should have at least that.

You sit down stiffly with your hands bunched up in fists and shoulders tightened to the point where it was almost painful. V pretends he doesn't recognize you. You turn around once again to look over the crowd, almost meeting Jungkook's gaze but he suddenly finds his shoes to be the most captivating image in the world. Jin nearly takes off his jaw while ducking below the chair line and Hope is still surrounded by his devoted students. Jimin is persistent in looking disoriented.

In the faraway upper back, behind the fifteen rows of cascading seats, there is a second door. Slightly ajar and leading to complete darkness but you can swear there is a hand holding the doors open. For a moment you wonder who would hide away in a dark side room only to silently observe everyone but then you know exactly who. Yoongi. You whip around so fast the chair makes a loud squeak. In the peripheral vision, you make out a movement from V but he turns back to the camera without a second thought.

No, Erik was in deep trouble. The panel of judges or should you say evaluators was much too high standing for the first time enrolment. Rosaline Petsch's choice of coming here could be attributed to her being a harpy. Sure. Namjoon, although a CEO was known to just arrive at small scale events, to fully support his staff and also fully give them untreatable heart conditions. But the following had no place being here: Rhys Bethany, the key speaker of yesterday's anniversary and the head of Internal Affairs. Rahul Singh, chief of Communications. Tamira Johnson, head of International Affairs. Shen Qiongzi, head of Large Operations management. And two others whom you didn't even recognize. These were some of the biggest names of the entire organization and also the most bewildering. Strictly speaking, none of them had any input on the hiring or the enrolment process. The matters far, far below their usual duties.

Why were they here? Had Namjoon invited them? Why would he? Because he was still angry at you and was punishing Erik for it? He wouldn't do that but would he? Were you being narcissistic for thinking it had anything to do with you??

Whatever the answer was, hearing the last bell ring and seeing Erik, suddenly look very small and scared climbing up on the stage without even the protection of his notes folder... You felt a lot like seeing a crowd of shrikes encircle one mouse. You squeeze the handles of your chair, rocking back and forth with anxiety.

"As part of your legal right, what would be Your prefered choice of name for the course of this review?" You hear Ms Johnson speak. Erik picks up the microphone to speak...

....not a sound comes out of his mouth. You cringe.

"My real one, ma'am," he finally manages to croak after a moment of silence that was perhaps too long to be unnoticeable.

"Thank you. We will begin the first part of the enrolment request review for Erik Genyer."

You blanch at her words. The first part... meaning that what is about to happen was an actual full, point by point review and not the shortened version that came into popularity in recent years. The review would last three hours and it was three hours of ruthless questioning.

You grip the handles even tighter.

***

Erik fares surprisingly well. After the initial shock, he starts to melt into well-rounded answers. After the five minute pause in between the two parts, he even starts to subtly lean into humouring the panel, offering sarcastic, unhelpful comments. Truly one you could call your own.

Your heart is in continuing thunder as it beats harder with each given situation and particularly hard question. At this point, you have tossed and turned and quietly whined at every to the degree that it is noticeable to everyone in the room. And that in itself pushes to a worrying realization that Erik had somehow managed to slither his unholy way into your heart and become not just a trainee under your care but a friend. Like a proper friend. A friend that would leave you in literally the span of 10 minutes.

Namjoon who was eerily silent for most of the hearing, providing only two softball questions, had noticed your flighty twitching and leaned back to glance at you. You look at the ground knowing that you were perhaps not in the right mindset to put on a facade of your somewhat trademarked blasé attitude.

For God's sakes, you were not even this nervous in your own review but then again you had resigned yourself to the bottom of the barrel. Erik was not.

Finally, he passes the third part of the review. He had taken a few hits, all of which delivered by Petsch, but overall came out with impressive results. Two things were left to unfold. The panel would ask him what was his preferred choice of the department and then either allow it or politely indicate his skills would be more useful in another department and refer him there.

"Mr Genyer do you have a specific department choice?" Mr Singh asks politely. He'd been a tough but fair reviewer nevertheless it was always Namjoon who asked this question. Why was he so quiet? What was the point of showing up if he was going to be silent?

"I have." Erik answers and you see a smile form in his mouth. It was his bastard smile. Eerily similar to the picture of the cat surrounded by knives. You've seen that expression many times, mostly when he was breaths away from pissing off a lot of people.

"And what would that be, sir?"

"The cleaner department."

....

....

....

Not a single person breathes. Not a sound is made. The panel has gone speechless. You think your heart has stopped entirely.

"I'm sorry, do you mind repeating that?"

Erik couldn't look smugger as everyone stared at him.

"I'd like to work in the cleaner department."

The second time he says it causes an uproar. People actually stand up in the back. You hear a crunch to your side. Tae dropped his camera on the ground. There's so much noise you can't even decipher what is being said. Vaguely you maybe hear Jin's loud ass "what?" but that also could be literally anyone else.

The panel has to turn around and repeatedly shush the crowd. It is not an easy task. You just stare at Erik, mouth dropped open, eyes bugging out and he gives a self-satisfied smirk.

"I promise tomorrow you’ll have reparations."

These were the reparations. As the crowd finally eases back you let out a breath, lungs screaming for oxygen. Hadn't even noticed the lack of breathing process.

"Why would you choose a cleaner department?" It is finally Namjoon's turn to speak but he too sounds astounded all the way to outer space.

"It is a lowly position." So low in fact, they were not in the count of departments. Hence the status of 0 out of 7. You're hit with another realization. "Aspiring 0". The one Erik had placed in his Instagram bio. It was not zero aspirations that you thought he meant, no he was aspiring to be 0. And suddenly it makes sense. Him being such a little pain in the ass, always sneaking off, taking cases well above his position, taking yesterday's case in fact. All to rank up and enter the review faster. You don't even know how to function with this information.

"Why would you choose the cleaner department?" There was only one person who had chosen the cleaner department. A year ago. You. But even back then the choice was between quitting altogether or becoming part of the 0.

"The cleaner department is as hard-working and as essential as any other position in the organization." He shrugs.

"Yes, but why choose it?" Ms Shen pursues. You can hear it in her voice that she simply cannot comprehend why would anyone choose to work there. Honestly neither can you.

"I like it there. The cleaner department has the friendliest, most genuine and accepting people I've met among all departments. Also, I've had the most supportive, protective mentor anyone could wish for. I've never been more inspired to both be myself and improve forward as I have under their tutelage and I hope that by working in the cleaner department I can repay them for the faith they had and hopefully continue to have in me."

His request is approved and after a quiet "review ended" Erik is officially given the position of the evidence removal department.

***

The crowd is restless. There's not a soul that's not debating outside the room. Everyone huddled up together. What Erik did today would go down in the history of the company. Right next to your name.

Briefly, you encounter Petsch who throws something snide in your direction but you brush past her without a second thought. Finally, you find that stupid red shirt, snuggled against the window. You break out in a sprint and smack him in the middle of the chest.

"OW!"

"Why would you do that?" You yell. Why are you yelling? You don't know. You're happy. Literally so happy. Erik begins to laugh, kinda nerdily as he is snorting a bit like a pig.

"You should have seen your face! Oh, man, I wish I had my camera with me! Oh, a picture truly is worth more than a thousand words."

"You idiot! I trained you," you deliver a smack "so you could," a smack, "have a better life!" Erik's smile doesn't falter for a second.

"What's better? It's a shithole here anyways. So they pay me more in other departments. The money I'd spend on therapy for working there would still decimate my pay into non-existence."

You stop hitting him as something dangerous bubbles up your throat. The hole in the chest filled. No, not that, he will never let me live if I do, you think to yourself.

"Are you actually crying?" Erik giggles his expression turning somewhat strange.

"No."

You do end up crying. After taking you to Omelas where surprise, surprise, your inner circle of other cleaners and Irina were waiting. Diego was already rolling on the floor with Liz trying to pull him up in a somewhat vertically inclined position. J.D. giving a quiet, appreciative nod and S - Jo along with Byun screaming their lungs out in some kind of celebratory song. You can't even tell which language they are screaming in.

Olga looks at the scene with mild amusement. If you'd had become a little bit like an unwilling older sister to this little horde of gremlins then Olga was like everyone's collective mom. How many of your messes and mood swings had she endured? You couldn't even count but you remember how badly you were afraid of disappointing her. And if Erik felt even the half of that...

It was then and after two bottles of vodka that you started sobbing. But just a little bit. After all, you hadn't cried in a while and if there was a better place to cry it was among this little makeshift family.

***

(a/n: lietonis, more commonly known as lietuvēns is a spirit from my country's folklore that is rumoured to strangle people and animals in their sleep. Basically something like a sleep paralysis demon.)

[ksyescribe]

Visitor (Shouta Aizawa x Reader)

Prompt: A certain Pro-Hero’s taken a liking to you. So much so that he visits you in the dead of night after particularly difficult patrols.

Ship: Shouta Aizawa x Reader

Content: Fluff, That’s it I was feeling soft,

A/N: I had this idea WEEKS back but when I tried to rewrite it from the first draft to now it just didnt work out. Like I don’t know what the hell it was but it wasn’t coming together. BUT today that hurricane rain came in strong as hell and inspiration struck. Does it flow? I think it does. Does the tone stay consistent? Probably not but it’s part of the learning process. And honestly I loved writing it so whatever :’) I hope you guys enjoy it

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Few things in Shouta's life truly brought him peace.

He could list them off on one hand if he needed to: the cat cafe that sat on the outskirts of town, a good cup of coffee, the small cabin he owned in the mountains down south, and of course you.

Standing in the doorway to your kitchen, as you busied yourself with making two cups of coffee, he remembered why.

Things were simple with you. When he watched you like this, it was easy for him to pretend just for a second that the two of you lived an ordinary, domestic life. Together.

It's not that he didn't enjoy his hero work, quite the opposite; in fact, he loved it. But when you were around, it was almost as if he craved to settle down, start a family, and just live a normal life like any other civilian could.

But he knew better.

He wasn't a chart-topper hero like All Might or Endeavour, but he still made enemies for himself as he worked. Which meant no one close to him was safe from them as long as he was active.

Hell, his colleagues didn't even know of your existence. But that was mostly because Shouta only visited you in the late hours of the night. After rough patrols, when he needed to destress, he came to you.

It wasn't often. He didn't want to make it a habit of relying on you in case things went south. But, there were nights where his body ached to be with you, and he just couldn't turn himself away from your cozy apartment.

While he lost himself in thought as he watched you, you smiled to yourself as you whipped up some small snacks to go along with your coffee.

"I was wondering when you were going to show up."

The soft tone of his voice broke him out of his trance. It sent small tremors down his spine as a feeling he can only describe as "comfort" settled in the tired crevices of his body. He raised an eyebrow at your back, "How did you know I was here?"

You press your lips together, preventing a full-blown smile from spreading over your lips. Truthfully, you'd heard the click of your balcony door opening earlier. That, paired with the unknown feeling which had been sitting in the pit of your stomach, had alerted you of the Pro-Heroe's arrival.

Breathy laughter fell from your lips, "Just a feeling."

His eyes narrowed at your back as you put the last finishing touches on the drinks and food items at hand.

"What? Like a sixth 'Shouta instinct' or something?" he snorts.

Now, you let out small giggles, "Yeah, something like that."

And then you turn around, and for Shouta, the world stops.

He really should be used to it by now. Really, he should.

It's not like this is the first time he's seen you. He's seen you plenty of times before, but for some reason, it's almost like every single time is the first time.

His eyes drink in the contours of your face. The way sharp edges contrasted with softer curves. The shape of your nose, the quirk of your lips, the way your eyes light up when your gaze lands on him.

God, he's always overwhelmed when he sees you for the first time. His body screams at him to reach out and hold a hand against your face. He wonders if you'd nuzzle your face into the callouses of his hands or if you'd just simply smile at him, content to have him touching you in some sort of way.

The grip he has on his biceps tightens as he crosses his arms tightly to avoid reaching out to you.

He doesn't have that luxury.

You barely notice, still giving him a full-lipped smile as you move towards him with a full cup of coffee. In his 'special' mug nonetheless.

It's a simple little kitten mug you had picked up in some bookstore you'd been browsing. He'd been caught off guard when you presented it to him the first time, that he couldn't help the full-body laugh he had let out.

"I couldn't get a cat, no pets allowed in the apartment." You had said with a small shrug, avoiding his gaze, "Thought this would be the next best thing."

It had quickly become one of many items deemed as "his" within your apartment.

"Every night I get that feeling, you show up," you say as you elaborate on your previous statement.

You're standing in front of him now, an arm's length away, waiting for his hands to reach out so you can pass the mug to him.

"Every, single, time," you say as you push the mug into his outstretched hands, fingers brushing against his for a mere moment.

He inhales sharply as he feels your fingers brush his for that small second. Just that tiny brush has his skin on fire. His hands felt electric.

You look at him with wide eyes and an even wider smile as you hear him take a deep breath. You mistakenly assume it's to smell the coffee, "It's a new brew! It smells just divine, doesn't it?"

Shouta's not fond of overused cliches, but he can't help but think of the word "sparkle" as he looks into your eyes. The light reflecting off them showcases your intense joy. It felt infectious. He can feel himself soften even more as he takes in your expression. Your face practically radiates happiness as you look up at him expectantly.

"Yes," he breathes out, "Divine."

Your eyes widen a fraction at his reaction, a small trembling breath slipping past your lips. Your eyes drop as you feel your cheeks begin to heat up at the implications of his words. He can't possibly be talking about coffee with that sort of tone, right?

Clearing your throat quietly, you step back, turning around to collect your mug from the counter.

His fingers tighten around the mug as he watches the space between you grow again.

He hates it.

Hates keeping you at arm's length. He wants you with him.

Every second of every day. He wants you at his side.

It's a realization he's come to over the past few months of this arrangement. Coming to your apartment past midnight. You welcoming him with open arms, even going as far as feeding him.

He's fallen for you.

Despite the dangers of his life. Despite what he's done to keep this "relationship," the two of you have as platonic as possible. You've somehow managed to burrow yourself deep into his heart. In all honesty, he's not sure he wants to remove you from there.

It's why he hasn't stepped foot inside your house for the last few weeks. He needed to put some distance between you. Something to reduce the effect you had on him.

But now, standing here in your kitchen again. It seems like the distance only made his feelings stronger.

He's hopelessly in love with you, and he isn't sure what he can even do about it.

His attention is once again captured by you, as you gesture towards the table. Taking the hint, he moves over, seating himself in one of the unoccupied chairs. You across from him in the other, placing down a plate with food in front of him.

Silently, he dips his head in a small bow, thanking you for the food.

"Itadakimasu," you mumble before taking a sip of the dark liquid. Shouta mimics your actions, relishing in the warmth that the coffee provides him.

It's perfect. Sweet with just a tang of bitterness to keep him grounded.

The two of you sit silently. Picking off items from the plate as you continue to sip your drinks.

You're the one who breaks the silence.

"Did" you pause before continuing, "did I do something?"

Shouta pauses for a mere second, his lips centimeters from the rim of the cup as he takes in your stuttering inquiry. Then, he takes a sip before raising an eyebrow at you, "What do you mean?"

You gaze down at the dark liquid, your fingers fidgeting around the mug as you gather up the courage to speak again.

"I just," you let out a small sigh before continuing, "Before tonight, you hadn't passed by in weeks."

He watches as you bite your lip, eyes fluttering closed for a moment before opening them once again. Your gaze finding his.

"I just wanted to know if I did anything to offend you..." you trail off hesitantly.

Once again, Shouta's reminded of how beautiful your face is. Even with concerned features, the beauty doesn't leave your face at all.

His head begins to shake, "No. You didn't do anything. Trust me."

Already, the creases of worry begin to disappear from your face.

"Then, what is it?" you ask as you tilt your head at him.

He brings the mug back up to his lips. Taking long sips, he buys some time to think of an excuse. What can he even say to you?

"I..." he trails off, racking his brain for anything. God, he's usually so fast with his kids, but it seems like that's nonexistent with you.

But he doesn't get a chance to respond before you blurt out, "If it's because of me, I promise that you aren't an inconvenience!"

You lean forward on your elbows as you speak quickly but quietly, "I swear! I may be quiet because it's past midnight, not that there's anything wrong with you showing up at this hour, but I promise I really enjoy your presence. I mean, it's nice to have someone to talk to. It gets lonely around here, and I'm always looking forward to your visits. I really like you, you know?"

Shouta manages to keep his expression passive, but he can't help but inhale sharply at your declaration.

Your eyes widen as you realize what you let slip out. That sets you off on another talking spree.

"O-Oh my god I didn't mean to. I just, I mean, you're a wonderful person to be around. You're good company to have around. Not that anyone's saying you're not good company. I just, oh god, I'm so sorry for making this awkward. You don't have to say anything I promise I'll just drink my coffee in silence and you can lea-"

Shouta's hand on your wrist causes you to stop abruptly. He holds your gaze over the rim of his cup as he takes another drink. He's not saying anything, but still, you feel your cheeks burning. God, he probably thinks you're an absolute idiot.

Quietly he places the cup down, raising an eyebrow at you, "So, you like me?"

If possible, the warm sensation on your cheeks gets stronger. He's trying to get a reaction out of you, and it's working.

"I-I..." you stutter out weakly. But he's already shaking his head at you, a sly smile on his face.

"It's okay, kiddo," you scowl at the despised nickname he calls you, "I'm fond of you too."

"I'm only five years younger than you!" you retort back.

"Is that what you decided to focus on?" He strokes long lines along your wrist as he smirks at you, waiting for you to counter.

You're so thrown off that you can't respond. Instead, you open and close your mouth as you try to formulate a response. Your brain's still trying to process his confession.

He tilts his head at you, "So, you want to know why I haven't been coming around these past few weeks?"

Not trusting your voice, you nod slowly at him.

"Well," he clears his throat, his eyes dropping to where his hand is resting on your wrist, "there's no reason for me to beat around the bush, so I'll just come out and say it."

Your eyebrows pull together as you look on curiously, sensing the shift of his tone.

"I stopped coming around because I felt like I was getting too attached to you." His eyes flick back up to yours, watching as you try to decipher what his words mean.

You knew that Shouta was an independent man. Lived alone, worked alone, fought alone. He held everything he needed to survive and fight within himself. So you can understand that distancing himself from something when he became too dependent would be logical. But, you didn't think that applied to people too. Regardless, why would depending on people be such a bad thing?

He watches as you lose yourself deep in thought. You're mouthing inaudible words as you confusingly work your way through the ideas in your head. He figures you'll need a helping hand to make sense of it all.

"What I mean to say is," he watches your eyes meet his, "I started to develop feelings for you. Knowing my track record, with villains and all, I thought it'd be best to put some distance between us."

Immediately you're sitting up straighter, the mood in the room shifting quickly.

"That isn't your decision to make." Your eyes bore into his, all traces of playfulness and nervousness disappearing from your face, "I know what your work entails. I know it's dangerous, but I don't care. I'm the only one who gets to decide if something is too dangerous for me to handle. You don't get to do that for me."

In his grasp, you turn your hand over, as you slide your pal up to meet his. He watches as you interlace your fingers together. Your fingers filling the gaps between his perfectly.

"And I already decided a long time ago that being with you is worth it." You squeeze his hand reassuringly as you finish talking.

His gaze trained on where you're joined together. There's an indescribable emotion unfurling deep within his chest. His eyes flit back up to meet yours, determination shines clearly within them.

"I have enemies. People who want to harm me. They'll come for you too."

"I know," your gaze never wavers, "and I don't care. Let them come for me."

He'll die before he lets any of them come near you.

"I'm constantly working. If it's not school, then I'm patrolling."

"I know, and I don't care. My schedule's changing weekly. It doesn't bother me."

"I can't give you a normal relationship."

"I don't want normal. I want you."

Empty mugs and dinnerware sit between the two of you. Your hands are still joined together in the middle of the table.

You hold each other's gaze, attempting to decipher the emotions that swirl within your eyes. Shouta's hesitation shines brightly within his. He's not sure if he wants to drag him down into this world with him. Your determination doesn't falter, but now there's hope that mixes with it. You're not scared of this. He's a good man, and you'd risk anything to stand at his side.

"It seems like you've thought about this a lot."

You nod at him, "I have."

He nods silently, eyes flickering back to your hands, "Well, since it's your choice, what do you want to do? Now that you have all the facts, that is."

You take a deep breath, a smile finding its way onto your lips, "I want you to go out on a date with me."

He lets out a breath of laughter. You sure don't waste time. "I'm free next Saturday. But let me tell you, I'm not particularly fond of those over the top places."

You snort, waving him off with your free hand, "Luckily for you, I'm not either."

You give his hand a small reassuring squeeze, glancing at him, "Saturday at 8?"

"Saturday at 8."

[xfandomwritingsx]

Hold Your Breath - Chapter One: A Blank Page - Draco Malfoy

-gif source unknown-

Description: After decisions put you on opposite side of the war, returning to Hogwarts to finish your education proves to be challenging. Maybe closure isn’t the only thing you need from Draco.

Warnings/Labels: Angst. Hints of depression. Unhappy reunions.

Approx. Word Count: 3,000

A/N: I’m trying to keep the reader’s house open for interpretation, but I think it’s pretty plain to see that in my head, she’s a Ravenclaw. I’m also not a fan of this chapter. This is the chapter in which I converted what I had written of the oneshot into a longer piece so there are bits that to me still have a different feel than the rest. Makes it a little choppy when I read it, but hopefully it’s not bad for you!

Story Masterpost

-

September 1998

The world looks the same as it always has outside of the train window, but it all feels different. Colors still feel muted and even though there’s less chaos raging behind the trees, they still give you an ominous feeling deep in your gut. There are familiar faces on the train, but not enough to make you feel at home. Eyes either avoid yours or stare uncomfortably long. You feel out of place. You’re not supposed to be here.

But, yet, here you are. Your classmates have affectionately dubbed it “The 8th Year” at Hogwarts and even that makes you feel ill-fitting since you didn’t actually attend any of your 7th year so how could it possibly be considered your 8th? You had spent all of last year in hiding, most of which at The Burrow working to gain trust and prove your worth. You’d spent the end of it fighting on the winning side and risking your life for people you once hated.

You don’t belong.

And right now, if you could, you might just get off the train and call it quits on the whole 8th year idea. But you’re already committed now and you refuse to be labeled a quitter. It’s time to move on and build a life for yourself and you know that starts with finishing your education as best you can. So you swallowed the nausea and stayed.

You are one of the last ones off the train partly because you don’t like being in the crowd and partly because you hope it might lessen the stares. Armed with a bag filled almost entirely of long sleeved shirts, you take a deep breath and step onto the platform.

The air is warm, though the threat of colder weather ahead lingers in the air. You yearn for it, having taken a liking to the cold in the last year or so. Trees still hold their color so you suspect you have to wait just a little while for it yet. At least it gives you something to look forward to.

You begin your walk down the platform, feet padding gently along the wood. One step at a time, you tell yourself. One foot in front of the other until they suddenly stop when the sight of Draco exiting the train a few doors down causes your lungs to seize. You’d heard he would be attending so it shouldn’t have stunned you to see him, but it did. You had chosen to ignore the fact that you’d likely run into him, instead choosing to blindly hope you could somehow avoid him all year.

The thinning crowd of people allows you to see him fairly clearly. He’s looks good, well and healthy even. The little boy who broke your heart had grown into a man somehow. Perhaps in the four short months since the end of the war, he had healed. Maybe he was atoning for his wrongs. A softness in your heart grows as you watch him, letting yourself briefly daydream about a happy reunion filled with apologies and hope for the future.

His eyes scan the platform and when they fall on you, your heart speeds up anxiously. His look is not warm or friendly and when you recognize the façade painted on his face, your girlish fantasies are wiped away. He’s nothing more than the same boy he’s always been, playing pretend in a black dress jacket and trousers with a coward’s fear hidden behind his steely eyes.

He doesn’t even acknowledge you, just keeps scanning the platform before adjusting his jacket and continuing on his way. Pushing back the anger you feel starting to bubble, you tighten your grip on your bag and make your way to the carriages by yourself.

~~~

Your memories of him have always come in waves and the last two weeks have been no different as you settled into your new, old routine at school. You can go hours, even days without thinking about him and then out of nowhere, a memory will hit you so strongly that you feel like you’ve entered a pensieve.

Even now, looking at him across the great hall, you can still remember his touch. You can still practically feel his breath on your skin, your nails in his back. It was pain and comfort all in one. You remember how he’d laid his head in your lap afterwards. You still can’t be sure if the wetness left on your thighs was sweat or if he’d cried while he laid with you.

You cringe at how you had so naively thought that was the end of it. You were his salvation and he’d wake up the next morning and run away with you to the other side, to the right side of the war. But those had been foolish, little girl dreams. And you promised yourself after seeing him exit the train that you wouldn’t get involved with Draco Malfoy again.

So why can’t you stop staring at him?

Maybe because he hasn’t so much as acknowledged your existence yet and that, more than anything, pisses you off even if it shouldn’t. Despite your vow to yourself, you crave him talking to you, looking at you, noticing you’re alive for Merlin’s sake! Instead, you feel like you’ve been completely invisible to him. While this clearly made it easier to not get involved, it bothers you. He’s taking away your choice to be rid of him which is just rude.

Fingers snap in front of your face.

“Do you just want to hex him and be done with it?” Ginny asks next to you, a ghost of a smile on her lips. One positive of this year; the voluntary segregation of sitting with your house had been all but completely abandoned, allowing you to sit with the very few friends you have. “You could probably do it with minimal punishment.”

“I don’t want to hex him,” you argue softly, forcing your eyes back down to the plate in front of you. Ginny raises an eyebrow at you.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes!” You let out a huff and poke the food with your fork. “No. Maybe a little bit,” you admit. She nudges your shoulder with her own and sighs sympathetically. Ginny was never someone you thought you’d end up close with, but after staying with her family during the war, she’d become practically like your sister. She’s a better friend than you’d ever had before. Probably better than you deserve too.

“Have you spoken to him?” She keeps her voice quiet amongst the chatter in the hall. You look at her, full of irrational guilt, and shake your head in the smallest fashion you can. “Maybe you should.” You look back to him and remember the way he felt on top of you, whispering your name and the way your legs wrapped around his waist. But then, just as suddenly, you’re hit with the memory of him walking away from you in the middle of the night with a hollowness in your chest.

“I think that’s the last thing I need to do.” You force yourself to stop looking at him throughout the rest of your meal and attempt to join into jovial conversation at the table.

Fate, however, seemed to have heard your words and thusly thrust her middle finger out to you, because Draco is suddenly everywhere. It was inevitable that you run into each other, after all, you had classes together, but he still seems to be within your eyesight an excessive amount; sitting right in front of you during lessons, resting under your favorite tree, always managing to be where you can see his face during meals. Your only reprieve is your common room which you’ve taken to staying in during most of your free time.

Going strictly to and from classes and meals has become tiresome though. You’re starting to feel like you’re back in hiding and can feel a darkness creeping in. You don’t have an abundance of friends at Hogwarts. Or anywhere really. The loneliness threatens to eat away at you sometimes, but you keep it at bay by keeping your nose in your books; a coping skill you’ve become entirely too proficient at executing.

But today you venture out, book in hand, hoping to find a quiet place with a little background noise to read. A change of scenery and a breath of air may help the frayed nerves you haven’t been able to shake these last weeks. Your feet carry you to the library almost without any thought. It had been among one of the first areas rebuilt and reconstructed after the war and though they built it much the same as it had been, it had a distinctively new feel to it.

It’s a bit of a bustle with people, mostly first and second years who think studying is still the most important thing they can do. Idiots, you think. You walk around for a little bit, admiring the fresh wooden tables and shelves, before gravitating towards a back corner. There used to be a couple of chairs in a back row of books by the muggle section that no one ever frequented. With any luck, it might still exist.

Fate smiles down on you, but it’s a wicked smile because yes, your little nook is still there, but so is Draco. He sits in the armchair in plain clothes, an elbow on the armrest, and his face propped up on his fist as he stares down at the book in his lap. His platinum hair falls into his eyes, yet he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. He looks so ordinary, like he could be any man in the world and it irks you in a way you can’t put into words. He’s not ordinary. He’s not any man. He’s Draco Malfoy.

You stare long enough for him to sense it and look up from his book. And for what feels like for the first time all year, he looks at you. He freezes for just a moment, as though he’s shocked or perhaps scared at the sight of you. Then in a blink it’s gone, replaced by a softer tone in his eyes.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, his voice a rush of warm nostalgia. He closes his book. “I can leave.” Even though you’re negatively shaking your head, he gathers the bag at his feet and stands.

“It’s alright,” you try to tell him. “I’ll just go somewhere else.” He’s already standing up in front of you, ready to slink past. There’s an urge to reach out and grab his arm. You repress it.

“No, it’s fine. You like this spot.” He says it so quickly and his eyes flitter to anything but your face as he passes. Before you can try to say anything else, he’s disappeared beyond more shelves of books, completely out of view.

You’re left standing there looking after him feeling entirely unsatisfied and empty with the interaction. You can’t put your finger on or voice what you wanted to happen, but that certainly wasn’t it.

Sighing, you concede to do what you had come for. Even that proves to be too difficult because when you settle into the chair, it’s still soft with his imprint and warm with his body heat. It gives you the barest sensation of having him wrapped around you. It reminisces more than it should of that too-long-hug you shared before he’d kissed you for the first time. The memories washing over you make it too difficult to focus on the words in your book. You snap it shut and leave. The common room is clearly the better place to stay.

~~~

All of your interactions after that are all short and insignificant. He’s always there, but never looks your way. If he does have to speak to you, it’s always in a minimal way. It never fails to leave you frustrated and angry. Even your books aren’t easing your tension like they used to.

It's been nearly a full month now and throwing yourself into your studies hasn’t helped you any either. You’ve practically finished the coursework for half of your classes. Your homework is done well before you wish to go to sleep for the evening. You haven’t set foot outside the castle walls. You have so few friends, no family, and no one who can relate to your troubles. And the one person you’d counted on your whole life, your best friend and the boy you would have done almost anything for, barely even looks at you.

The suffocation of it all comes in the darkness of night. It crushes down on your chest and burns on your arm. Your fucking arm. You’ve scrubbed it. You’ve concealed it. You even went so far as to try to cut the skin off. Nothing works. That skull and snake are with you forever. And everyone knows it.

Some nights you can’t take it. You can’t merely lay in your bed and pretend sleep will come peacefully. So you leave your room. You wander the castle, trying to find those places that bring warmth to your heart and avoid those were people died.

Tonight, you go to the courtyard just to look at the stars. There’s something soulful about the sky. It’s where muggles look to when they pray to a higher power. It holds a universe more expansive than you could ever imagine. It could swallow you whole if you let it or maybe, just maybe one day it will show you how to be happy.

You forcibly don’t recognize that laying in grass and looking up at the sky had been something you and Draco used to do together. It works well enough to let you enjoy the activity again by yourself, but it blinds you to the idea that Draco might be doing the same thing.

You shouldn’t have been so surprised when you reach the courtyard and he’s there, leaning back on the fountain and staring upwards, but you are. When your shoe crunches on the gravel, his head snaps to you and with his own surprise, stands up.

Another short apology. Another move for a quick exit in the opposite direction of you. Your fists clench at your sides, unable to bottle in your anger any longer.

“Oh would you shove off with that?” you snap before he can slip back into the shadows. He turns and raises an eyebrow at you. “I was ready,” you tell him angrily. “I was ready to come back this year and hate you. I was ready to avoid you and shoot you pissed off glares from across the room. Then I get here and you avoid me!” His face puzzles for a moment.

“So you want me to try to talk to you so that you can tell me off?” A little bit of his old self, of the Draco you once knew and loved, comes through in an irritated eye roll. “Sorry to disappoint.” You let out a huff of air and cross your arms.

“Why are you avoiding me?” The puzzled look on his face returns.

“The way you’re reacting right now doesn’t answer that question for you?” He tilts his head and hums mockingly. “Not as smart as I thought you were.”

“Smarter than you are, clearly.” He grinds his jaw at your condescension and then he’s walking up to you, getting closer than he’s been all year and your bravery falters for a moment as your feet step you back and your arms uncross to hang useless by your sides.

“That’s why I haven’t approached you. I don’t need another lecture. I’ve been to trial. I’m on probation. I’ve had everything I’ve ever done wrong put out in front of me in excruciating detail. I don’t need you to give me another run through.” His eyes and his tone are cold, hard. You recognize it all too well and while he’s gotten better at hiding it, you can still see the pain underneath. It tries to soften you, but ultimately fails.

“They shouldn’t have let you come back,” you spit at him, instantly regretting the words when he pulls away. You don’t mean it. Of course you don’t mean it, but you say it with enough venom and hate that he believes it.

“We all made mistakes,” he hisses at you before glancing down to your arm. The heat of his stare practically stings and you have to resist that instinctive pull to hide it away. “I hear you’re the shining example everyone uses to demonstrate that not all bad guys hail from Slytherin, even despite the fact that you changed sides in the end.” The only reason you don’t crack your palm over his cheek is because you give in to the need to hold onto your left forearm tightly, your palm now busy cradling the skull of the Dark Mark underneath your shirt sleeve. “How’s that feel?”

“You’re horrid,” you tell him weakly. He tilts his head again.

“That is what everyone says.” He gives a shrug that tries too hard to be casual and finally steps out of your personal space. With a small shake of his head, he turns to leave again, but you refuse to let him get the last word.

“At least I tried to atone!” you call after him. He pauses, but doesn’t look back. “I did the right thing when it mattered!”

“And where did that get you?” he asks bitterly. “Where did it get your family?” You suck in a harsh breath and try desperately to hold back the tears that are abruptly burning behind your eyes. Dead, you think. It got them killed.

“They made their own choices.” It sounds rehearsed because it is. You told yourself those same words over and over again every night for months. Your parents weren’t good people. You knew that. They were still your parents though and when you heard He’d killed them, it hurt more than you want to admit. And Draco knew that. Draco knows your weaknesses and your soft spots and just how to twist a knife into you. Perhaps that’s why you hated him so much.

“You don’t bother me and I won’t bother you.” He still hasn’t even so much as looked over his shoulder back at you.

“Fine,” you answer curtly, your hand still wringing around your forearm. When he leaves, you allow yourself to crumple onto the ground and cry. You feel so much hollower than the last time he’d left you in tears. Back then, the air had practically crackled with tension and death and war. Now the air is silent, calm and that makes it all the more unsettling. All the more finite.

~~~

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[yongiefilms]

EVANESCENCE.

pairing: mark lee x reader (female)

genre: fluff; angst; hints of humor; best friends!au; high school!au; college!au; unrequited love!au

warnings: language, heartbreak, indirect mentions of depression, crying is involved, mentions of death and loss, complex feelings, if you have a weak heart this may be hard to bear, you are literally in for a ride with a lot of ups and downs (i don’t know this is hard to put warnings on for some reason just beware with angsty teen feels aka angsty teen mark)

word count: 6.4k (how did i write this much? it is surely a mystery)

summary: distance is hard for anyone. it’s especially hard for couples, and maybe even more so best friends. with hundreds of thousands of miles separating you and mark lee, it’s impossible not to note the countless possibilities of what could go so wrong by being away from each other for an unknown amount of time. to cope with that longing mark lee writes to you, and he can only hope the feelings he pours out to you on paper are enough to keep that one thread you both are hanging by, unwavering and simply together.

author’s note: this fic is dedicated to our favorite giggly, watermelon loving, and adorably awkward social boy—mark lee. it’s officially his birthday in the states so happy 21st birthday, my precious and sweet boy. thank you for always brightening up our world and putting a smile on our faces. also, huge shoutout to my proofreaders/beta readers ( @wooqzi​ and @mjlkau​ ). you both were literally lifesavers and i can’t thank you enough for enduring through this semi-long fic with me, but i love you my renjun enthusiasts, you’re amazing.

THE CONTENTS OF THIS LETTER IS CONFIDENTIAL AND SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE OTHER THAN Y/N L/N. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

march 16, 20XX

my dearest y/n,

i remember the first time i saw you. i remember it so vividly that it seems like it was just yesterday, a fleeting instant in time that managed to stand still, being permanently engraved in my brain. it was november 15th, 20XX—our sophomore year of high school. i recall walking into our school’s library at around 3:25pm because i had to return a book from my literature and composition class. at that point i was also still waiting for my ride to come pick me up so i thought why not kill two birds with one stone? however, i wasn’t prepared for what i would see. (call me cheesy, though i already know you did once you saw the first couple of sentences).

when i strode in i saw you as if we were in the movies, where the male lead is stunned into awe at the gorgeous girl he comes across. you were sitting at a table by yourself in the center of the room with your back to me and the infamous large window that covered nearly the entire wall behind you. for some reason that same day was exceptionally beautiful. the sky was a vibrant blue shade with a few remains of scattered clouds, dotting the sky in white freckles. the sun shone a little brighter than usual, its warmth felt like a blanket wrapped around the body and it reflected across your face at the heaven-sent angle when you turned your head the tiniest bit, adoring you in a pleasant glow. i strolled in right at that moment when the sun decided to showcase you in its beauty and i couldn’t help but be astonished. you looked so ethereal and virtuous. i simply couldn’t look away. your arms were rested on the table, on either side of the book you had opened and when the sun was covered by a transient cloud, casting you in its shadow, is when you became more real, more like someone who was attainable. you then suddenly groaned and put your head down rather harshly on top of the book, emitting a loud sigh. i was quite surprised that no one called you out due to the noise you were making, you were in a library after all. (just know i can picture you rolling your eyes just about now).

yet i perceived it was odd that from merely hearing your sound of distress, i wanted to protect you. i wanted to shield you from future harm and future inapt doings. you made my heart clench so tightly i wondered what was wrong with me and how i could feel so deeply. i didn’t even know you. i hadn’t even seen you around school before. you were a stranger to me so why did i feel a certain way? i questioned myself and even still, to this day, i can’t bring myself to give you answers for that query nor can i find them. i suppose that is where i put the blame for what happened next.

i was so caught up in my head that i didn’t notice my feet had moved on their own accord right next to your table, where your head still rested. i know i must have looked insane and i don’t inculpate you for your reaction in the slightest. i was brought back to reality when the sun shone in my eyes just allowing me to turn my head to see you in your empyrean grandeur. the timing was appropriate too, because that was when you snapped your head up to meet my eyes. i was as startled as you, but it showed more clearly in your eyes rather than mine, considering i was so disoriented from reality. your eyes were wide, allowing me to clearly see the stunning color that was full of curiosity. you tilted your head to the right like a lost puppy kicked to the curb, waiting for someone to finally claim them. nevertheless, your own surprise didn’t last long since mere seconds after you scoffed loudly and turned away from me to bring your attention back to your assignment. your next words were the ones that sealed the deal and i seriously must have been crazy to be attracted by mere words that offended me above all, but they didn’t. if anything my heart clenched in my chest even more. (i must have been so out of it…i know you are laughing your ass off right now because of the dilemma i had. cruel). but you said, “what the hell are you looking at? you weirdo.” i knew then that would be the start of a glorious friendship and it was. i never happen to be wrong and that was one time i was thankful, even if it isn’t my most fondest memory (shut up) it still sparked the start of something much greater. something that i felt could last a lifetime.

so yes, we became the best of friends ever since that day and what a wild ride it was to get to that point. i knew you considered me too weird, too quiet, and too awkward for your taste, but we made the friendship work. we became inseparable even in our differences and for the rest of the years to come in high school, we were joined by the hip. there wasn’t you without me and there wasn’t me without you. you always had mark lee with y/n l/n and vice versa. i guess you could say you had me marked in your heart as you were in mine. (cue another eye roll and a laugh. i know you laughed). we were known for being that inseparable duo of best friends. you couldn’t have one without the other. some thought it was peculiar to see the once lonely boy and spirited girl befriend one another and be so compatible. it was unexpected, but they got used to it like all the other things that come and go. they came to accept it and even if their opinions didn’t matter to you, those things did to me because i wasn’t like you. i couldn’t brush off dislike or unacceptance. i didn’t have the power to do so, but don’t worry anymore, my love, i have come a long way and perhaps it is all due to you.

i’ve always wondered how we balanced each other out since everyone said we just didn’t quite fit the picture. you were dauntless and confident, knowing exactly what you wanted and you weren’t afraid to go out to get it. while i was embarrassing and closed off, not knowing the path to follow for my life and too scared to make mistakes when i knew i couldn’t fix them. although through our own struggles we were able to help each other grow and find ourselves. we became comfortable in our own skin and accepted who we were with all our faults, failures, and imperfections. you were someone who guided me and i only hoped that i was able to guide you the same way you did during this absurd journey of teenage life.

i suppose that is why i am afraid to tell you these next few words, these next few paragraphs that place my heart out for everyone to see and hear—but i don’t care about them, i only have ever cared for you and i always will. you may have assumed this from the start of this letter or it may have gone over your head as something that is normal for everyone to experience with another attractive soul at first glance. or you may have known throughout our years of knowing each other. you could have picked up the signs of things that weren’t so platonic—the gazes, the touches, or the words that meant something more than just friendly. you could have noticed, but refused to acknowledge the deeper undertones for your sake and most certainly my own. i know you and i know the last thing you would want for me is to be hurt or disappointed. to feel like you failed me when in reality if you knew that wouldn’t have mattered, since to me our friendship is worth more than any romance, if there would have been one at all. so you know, i am certain now, but it still scares me to write it down, to have it on permanent record for you to read whenever you want.

so here it goes.

over that time, over the course of us getting to know each other and becoming who we are today, the best of friends, i slowly started to fall for you—the person you were, someone i couldn’t be even if i tried. someone so raw, beautiful, and most of all real, both on the inside and out. you know i never was shallow, i never cared about someone’s appearance as what held significance to me the most was the heart. if your heart was good and wholesome and filled with love. that is what matters and the only thing that should. so while you are gorgeous (don’t let that get to your head now), you had a golden soul that i fell for ever so intensely.

i guess that’s why i decided to be daring that day—our senior graduation. you may be confused on what i mean since nothing was out of the ordinary that day, well for you at least. for me it was a different story. you see i had decided to do something, something out of my comfort zone and i honestly don’t know what came over me to do it in the slightest. you know how i am, i never like to be put into an uncomfortable situation since i don’t know how to deal with them. my social awkwardness just gets the best of me, but in that spur of a tick, realizing this was a huge milestone in our lives that we were overcoming, a milestone that would release us into the real world, i mused there was no harm. i really didn’t have anything to lose, except you that is. i could lose you, but i guess i knew deep within my heart that was a slim possibility because nothing could tear us apart, not even stupid teenage feelings. so you could say i finally gained enough confidence after spending so much time with you to do something out of the ordinary—to be bold like you. to just confess the truth and not worry about the consequences after. to just speak my mind and not surrender to fear. you helped me get to that point and while it did take some time, i was happy with who i came to be. someone proud with who they are, even for split second and i knew i had to do it before i turned back into a coward—before it was too late.

i had the ideal moment planned prior to it happening. i was going to tell you after we finished taking our graduation photos. there wasn’t a better time than that, when we were trying to capture the last moments of our high school career together. taking pictures with those we grew closer to over the years, those that made everything a little more sane, a little more fun. so when we look back we can reminisce about those times, no matter how many ups and downs there were because we finally reached the end goal. we made it.

after searching for you amongst the growing crowd for several long minutes after we proceeded off the stage, i saw you come towards me first, with your blue gown flowing in the wind. you literally ran full speed ahead and when you were a few inches away, you crashed into me. i had stumbled from the impact, taking several steps back so we both wouldn’t fall, as my arms came to rest around your own. you maneuvered your arms around my chest to give me a bear hug, stripping the oxygen away from me. when you let go after being in my embrace for what felt like eternity, i could clearly see your face. you were in a great mood—a beam on your face, your cheeks flushed from the sun’s heat, your eyes wide open with stars that filled the void, and your skin left in a brilliant glow. happiness surrounded you and a grin made its way onto my face at how in your element you finally looked. i knew it was then or never again, for your encouraging grin left me weak, yet strong. the perfect moment. yet, no moment is perfect. no one moment ever seems perfect for me. it doesn’t work out because fate wasn’t on my side—nor would it be for a long time.

you must have wanted to tell me something too that fateful day, since i could feel your excitement in my own bones and spot it a mile away, as right when i was about to confess, right when i opened my mouth to say those three dreaded words, you cut me off. you told me you had news, exciting and life changing news. news that would shatter me and wither my confidence away till what was left was speck of dust. you told me you were leaving to go to the states. that was the first pain i felt in my body. your admission letter had come in the mail earlier that morning when you were about to leave the house, on your way to the graduation ceremony. you were too anxious when your father relayed the news that you had gotten mail as your foot was almost out the door. you couldn’t wait to open it as your eagerness didn’t allow you to, so when you were handed that one large envelope addressed with your name from your dream college, your hands didn’t stop from ripping it open.

you got in.

you got into harvard university, the one college you told me since sophomore year that you wanted to go to, if it was the last thing you could do. i was so estatic for you, i was, because i knew how much the acceptance meant to you. you were working hard ever since you could talk and your passion was a huge part of that dedication to excelling in your academics. you deserved it more than anyone i knew, but my heart couldn’t help but crumble out of that exuberance.

you were rambling on about how thrilled you were and what you would do at college, all the classes you would take, the extracurricular activities, how you would have your own dorm or apartment and decorate it the way you wished. you just looked exactly how you did that day i took you out on a picnic to watch the sunset on that hill that overlooked the town—without a care in the world and so very content. so i couldn’t confess now, when you were going places, the places you dreamed of and when your life would take off for the better. you were just getting started, yet i couldn’t say what i so desperately wanted to say when you simply told me you were leaving, and so soon at that. i didn’t want to hold you back and i just know you are telling me i wouldn’t have, but i know the truth as do you. you would have stayed behind because you care too enormously with your heart to ever let me go, to ever have me sorrowful. so i didn’t say anything when you backtracked and asked me what i wanted to say before you spilled the news. i was thinking more with my head rather than my heart at that juncture. you gazing at me with your star-filled eyes and dazzling smile, i couldn’t do it, no matter how much energy coursed through my veins. i kept my mouth shut and told you it was nothing. you accepted the excuse though i know you knew it was a lie. we could always tell when the other lied and i was just glad you believed it at that point. i held back my feelings and my wants for your feelings and wants—for your needs. your life, your wishes, and your desires always meant more to me than my own. so we took those graduation photos and laughed with the rest of our friends. we were joyful then even if the future remained imbalanced and unsure.

you left later that month since you had to settle into a new country, a new state, a new culture, and a new life. in that time it wouldn’t be us if we didn’t spend every minute side by side and we did since you wanted to cherish our time together—our last time together. you would be on one end of the world and i would be on the other, thousands of miles separating us and a wide expanding sea. it was surreal and it still is. so we treasured all of it, even the little moments of going to each other’s houses in the wee hours of the morning to just watch the sunrise or late at night to watch the stars, to go get ice-cream when we felt like it, to watch movies in your bedroom with the lights down low—to just bask in each other’s presence. we made even more memories, granted that we had plenty to go around. those last weeks with you were the best of my life, even if it felt like nothing was changing, even if it was our normal routine before the shift. even so it still made me fall deeper as i saw your true colors in an even brighter light as if i never truly saw you before. there was so much about you that just made me curious even if i knew every part of you, every aspect of your being, from the simple things like your favorite color to your hatred for pineapple on pizza, and to the deep things like your fear of being forgotten or not being good enough. even if i knew so much, there was still more to unravel and discover as you were so complex. there isn’t another person like you in the world. there can’t be since you are one of a kind. they may have your face or outward appearance, but they can’t have your fair heart or pure soul.

i shouldn’t have been dazed that these emotions i had for you would solely blossom beyond belief. i couldn’t protest either because i knew they would grow more fervent since it is so hard to control myself around you. i sound like a giddy schoolboy, but with you i can’t help but let everything run wild and free. i put my entire heart and being out onto a silver platter just for you and i knew you would only ever take good care of it. after all if anything they would be yours to either tear or mend.

so when that dreadful day arrived i wasn’t ready for the whirlwind of storm to be released and let loose. you were leaving and wouldn’t come back.

i had been in the car with you that day as well as with your parents since they were flying over with you in order to help you maneuver around a new territory and get you settled in before the start of your semester. i couldn’t bear to say goodbye to you before so i tagged along. we all strolled up to the gate and your parents passed through, leaving you with me so we could have some privacy to say everything we needed to say. albeit there weren't enough words in the world to tell you how i felt at that stage, enough words for the both of us. therefore, we let our actions speak louder. you latched onto me, putting your arms around my neck and hugged me so closed till i was sure there was no room between our bodies in that suffocating airport.

you know you told me a hundred times, maybe even a thousand times during those last weeks before you left, how much you loved me. how much i meant to you and how much you cared for me. i don’t even think the amount of times i heard that from other people could compare to how many times you said it. while they may have meant it, i know you truly did and that was the deepest sorrow to know, which broke me a little further. regardless, i did tell you them right back, how could i not when it was you? i told you those three words and eight letters every time in response, twenty-four hours and seven days a week, but when you said them there, in the midst of the crowd in the airport, it felt different. it felt more meaningful, like there was an underlying tone i couldn’t decipher and it broke me the furthest i could go.

tears came from me and you, flowing between our clashed bodies. they made their way down your face and stained my own, out of jubilation and utter devastation. when you said it in between your sobs, repeating the words like a mantra against my neck and pulled me in even closer, i told you those words back. i whispered them against your temple, kissing the side of your head every time i repeated them and i meant them with all my heart because i truly did love you, so much, just in a way you didn’t love me, and never could.

i was sure i couldn’t recover from your departure once i saw you walk through those gates and let go of me. i wondered if i could ever hold you back again like i did at that moment. it felt like a part of me was being left behind. we were two halves of a whole and with you going, there would always be a missing puzzle piece. a piece of me would always be incomplete and i didn’t know how to feel, nor do i now. there is a hole in my chest of where you belong and i think there always will be until we connect in person again.

looking back i still smile at that memory—at all our recollections together. the woeful ones and the euphoric ones because they help me burden the pain, the heartbreak at your withdrawal from my life. it may sound dramatic considering we are still part of each other’s lives, just not in the way we were before. for distance separates us and threatens to split us apart.

you may think it doesn’t, but we both know the actuality. distance is the cause of these things—friendships, relationships, and love breaking beyond a point that is impossible to fix. where all those things are left in the dust and are fragments of what once was. now distance endangers our own foundations, our own very little things, so it’s illogical not to think about how it might destroy us. i never was a pessimistic person, but now being miles away from you, it’s hard not to think this way. i try to block it out. i try so hard, but sometimes i can’t help but allow negativity to take over, for without you here to shed light, the darkness swallows me whole.

i already know how you look reading this letter, in fact i knew from the very start what it would result in. i knew your emotions would get the best of you as they overwhelm you and you can’t hold them in like you desire to. maybe it happened from the very start or maybe it started now, but i want you to stop the tears that are already cascading down your face. don’t cry reading this. this piece of paper is not worth your tears, even if you think the opposite way and maybe those words i just wrote don’t mean anything because you are already sobbing, but stop them before they consume you. i am not worthy of those tears nor is it my intention to ever make you weep.

you know you always said you couldn’t cry, your body wouldn’t let you wail even if you begged it to. you told me that the day your grandmother died and you came over to me after the funeral. you told me no matter how glum you were and how much pain you felt, you couldn’t mourn for your grandmother. that you pushed your body to release tears but it wouldn’t so you looked unmoving and without emotion during the service. while that may have been the truth just that once, i knew well enough that was a lie. you were numb to feeling since you lost someone, but you body did want to grieve since you were just holding yourself back from looking weak. nonetheless you never are so-called frail because you are the toughest person i know and tears don’t dictate that strength regardless.

so in the deepest part of your room, at the latest times of the night when you thought no one was looking or knew, you cried your heart out. you whimpered too often and i was able to tell even if i never voiced it, but somehow you knew that i knew and you were okay with it. you were okay with letting me know you were and are human. so every time when you would cry i told you that you were too beautiful for it, in order to give you a piece of how i saw you in my head. to allow you to understand it was okay and normal above all. even now, though i can’t see your tear stricken face, you are stunning. so don’t bawl, but rather smile for me.

good.

your smile was always one of my favorite characteristics of yours. the most blinding beam that could light up a room and make anyone forget their worries.

you know even if it may seem gloomy, blame the mood in which this letter took a turn, i still am grateful we keep in contact even if you are so many miles away, because that’s the only thing i ever wanted, to keep in touch with you—to remain best friends. a factor that we still are…(for now).

so yes, it may be six months since i last saw you face-to-face, six months since you left, six months since we managed to stay in contact, but i can just feel you slipping away, becoming someone without me by your side through it all. yes, i know you and i are still who we are since those months ago, since sophomore year, but it’s just something that i can’t help but feel.

in fact i already sense it, it is near, but yet far. you know how i know? when we were on call the other day. it was last wednesday i believe and we were chatting about how our day went, the usual things in our routine, that is until you casually mentioned someone asked you out on a date last week. the mere fact that you didn’t tell me the day of or the day after it happened hurt more than your following words, albeit they equally packed a punch. you told me it was that one boy from your history of psychology class, the boy you did countless assignments with before, the boy you befriended nearly the first day your classes started. the boy i felt would take my spot from your life, if not as your lover, then as your best friend. i forgot his name, but i recollect you said he had that incorrupt look on his face that you perceived him to be pure the first day you laid eyes on him, although after learning more about him, he was far from being innocent. you told me in explicit detail what he looked like and the personality he had. i recall bits and pieces, even if i desperately tried to forget. delicate hands, an artistic gift, a slightly short stature, a cute grin, and a savage attitude to contradict the façade. exactly like you, exactly like the day i met you with your sharp tongue and doe eyes in the library, the complete opposite of each other. while i know i reach far in many regards calling him a soon to be lover or best friend, he still has potential even if he may not have any of those labels. i know he might not be the one—the one you’ll end up marrying in a few years down the road when you have a doctor’s degree in one hand and a ring on the other, but he might as well be. he might as well be that man because the future is unimaginable to foretell, but he can still be that shell of someone you want, he can still fill the void until the time comes. so yes, he very much will have your heart for a while, if you deem him worthy enough, if you pursue him the way he wants to pursue you. the way you were talking about him with your tone and the smile i could hear it in your voice gave it away. i knew something was there and you would give it a shot. he might be one of many before you find the ideal one over the years and he very well might be the one, but even if he was not, he would be your first in more ways than i was. he’ll be someone i wish i could have been. someone i wish would allow me to shoot my shot, but i didn’t since with all my talk i still, deep down, was a coward.

you can’t say i am wrong anyways since sometime, someday, some when it will happen. however, what still remains, in this bit, right now, as you read, is that we are still y/n and mark. mark and y/n. we are still us, but why does it feel like we aren’t at the same time?

it’s a deep question i must admit, it is what keeps me up some nights as i search for the answer and ponder for the meaning. i still don’t know the full answer, but i know enough. we are growing up. we are growing up y/n. we aren’t 15 anymore. we aren’t those sophomore kids that had no idea what the real world had in store and were gullible in every way, shape, and form. we simply aren’t high schoolers who only cared about our grades or appearance or the plans we had after school. we aren’t those kids. we are slowly becoming adults. we are slowing steering away from our teenage years and in that comes this question of self-identity.

who are we?

that is what we are trying to look for. we are finding who we are through everything we do—through our daily lives. we are finding ourselves…without the other. we have been so close for so long and grew into that space in an unhealthy amount of time. we grew accustomed to each other’s presence so now it is almost unbearable being apart for so long. we became so attached we don’t know what to do with ourselves and it’s the cold hard reality. it’s the truth that we don’t know ourselves individually, only together and that’s why it hurts more than ever that we have to be led astray, sometime soon. to know that soon enough that time will come. to know that yes, we still contact each other every day, we still have our weekly face times or calls and what you deem our “online friend dates” during the weekends, but as often as they are, they will change. we will no longer have the time to do that as college gets crazier for both of us, as we become more involved in a college life full of parties, friends, clubs, and whatever else it may be as we move out of being freshmen and get closer to our real life careers. you and i will know when that happens as our calls will become less frequent, our check-ins almost nonexistent with the other being left in the dust for days to weeks to months on end. we merely won’t be in contact anymore and i am sorry when that comes, my love. we’ll forget each other, its expected especially as we grow older, as we date, as we find love, as we befriend new people, as we move in the direction we are meant to be going and with that the worst part follows because i know sooner or later we will have to let each other go, if we don’t neglect. we can’t hold each other back and we will dwindle to a memory of what once was, of a simpler time before. i will be the forgotten one, the one in the background of your most prominent memories, someone you can’t help but look back on.

although we aren’t there yet, but we will be.

soon.

even if at this point you hate how many times i have written that word and so do i, but don’t you dare take the high road since we all know at some point all marvelous friendships die for an unexplainable reason or reasons. ours would just have to be because of life. that’s what makes life well...life. it is all part of the journey, the road to an unforeseeable future, but there can still be hope, it doesn’t just diminish like a candle flame put out by a gust of wind. no, hope still exists, you just have to grasp it when it comes around.

if. i always hated the word if, but if it’s meant to be then we will find each other, we will come around full circle at some point. have hope for both of us when i have none.

still, when you get this, it may be too late. maybe you will have unremembered about me in the seconds of time in between the unwavering silence. only then would we have both moved on, since there is no point in reaching out for something that isn’t worth saving when it all faded away before. only then will i be just a memory and reading this will spark those thought of i knew him once before during a ephemeral moment in my life when i was a teen in high school rather than a college student, but i know i am not late.

it is one thing i am sure of.

until then, until that foreboding time arrives i’ll hold dear what we have. i will try to preserve this friendship for both of our sakes until it’s time to say goodbye or more accurately a see you later if you want to be hopeful.

whenever that may be.

i know you hate goodbyes more than anything, the word itself rattles in your bones. so y/n, see you soon, in person—someday if it’s what’s right.

it has to be right doesn’t it?

fate has to be on our side because it knows us, it knows that there isn’t me without you and there isn’t you without me. when that time arrives of us seeing each other or withering away like every flower does at the end of its life, i hope, i pray that you won’t forget me as i most certainly won’t forget you.

so just call to mind in everything you do, in everything you say, dwell on the time before college—of a time when you were a child, someone lost, someone finding themselves and in it all remember there was someone who loved you before. someone who loved you at your worst as well as at your best, before you became who you were truly meant to be, and he loved you with all his heart.

he promises he always will.

that he is me.

i love you, y/n l/n. always and forever.

never forget it.

yours truly,

mark lee  

on march 16th, 20XX at approximately 8:02pm mark lee sealed his letter to y/n and put it in his coat pocket. on march 17th, 20XX at approximately 10:32am mark lee made his way to the postal office to drop off his letter and at 10:36am the letter dropped into the box on its way to the united states. on march 20th at approximately 11:42am mark lee’s letter arrived at the massachuesetts postal office and was separated upon arrival to be delivered sometime within the week. on march 22nd at 2:07pm, mark lee’s letter arrived at y/n’s apartment complex and was dropped in the inboxes of the residents. on march 24th at approximately 7:02am y/n went to pick up the mail, but what wasn’t in the pile was the letter from mark lee. sometime between when the letter arrived in the states to the mailman driving to the complex, his letter had gotten lost. the truck’s windows were open and mark lee’s letter was at the top of the pile when the truck was parked. an unsettling breeze was felt against the mailman’s face as he gripped the entire pile of mail, though mere seconds before the letter was picked up by the wind and whooshed onto the ground several feet away. the mailman did not take note and continued on, not noticing something was missing. y/n never received mark lee’s letter and neither of them would have known how things would have ended up differently if she had. for from that point on they would be a fading memory to each other and their friendship would wane away. y/n would begin to forget the calls with mark. mark would no longer reach out after months of silence from both parties. y/n would date the boy she told mark about, his name was huang renjun and they would fall in love, but mark would never know his name or know what came to be. they would become strangers and not best friends. lost to the tragic distance that separated them across the sea. if only y/n received the letter. if only mark lee confessed. if only he had know y/n felt the same. if only their friendship hadn’t evanescenced into nonexistence…like all unrequited love stories do.

[limitededitionsanderssidesblog]

The Snake and The Frog

Pairings: Romantic Moceit, platonic moxiety

"The sins of the father are to be laid upon the children." William Shakespeare.

Janus had once told him that balance rested in karma, a life for a life, but Patton didn’t believe in such a thing. If nature dictates that the child shall pay for the sins of the father, then he will reshape the natural order and refuse to take revenge so that the next generation can be spared.

Or

Patton, cursed by an unknown sorcerer, is now forced to live his life as a frog, alone in the forest. That is until he meets a snake named Janus, a fellow cursed being.

AO3 - Here

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Having only four, webbed fingers was something Patton wasn’t sure he’d ever truly get used to, not to mention being one-tenth his size. The long tongue was odd too, and many nights he went hungry because he still wasn’t quite sure how to catch his food. Not to say he wanted to eat disgusting things like crickets or flies, but Patton wasn’t too sure that he could walk up to the local baker and ask for a cookie without being squashed.

Overall, life as a cursed one was something he never believed he could get the hang of completely.

Only two weeks ago, Patton had been an ordinary twenty-three-year-old man, enjoying his life as the son of a wealthy tenet master who owned most of the land the local farmers worked. Every day was spent with games and fun, he never had a care in the world. He and his best friend, a sorcerer named Virgil, would hang out at his father’s estate, doing whatever they wanted.

That is, until a strange young man, about his age, appeared at their doorstep. He didn’t see it coming, but without any warning or caution, Patton felt the world fall away from him and turn black. When he woke up, the man was gone, and he had been turned into a frog.

Distraught, his father hadn’t recognized his own son in that amphibian’s body and cast him out of the estate, dumping him in the forest that surrounded his home.

Patton had tried to return home several times within the last few weeks, but he had always been attacked and chased away by the guards that once protected him. 

He hadn’t given up, however, and continuously made plans to sneak his back into his home and show his father that he was, in fact, his son.

But first, he would try to catch the firefly floating over the lake.

Hopping over the lily pads, a bit clumsily as he still wasn’t used two his new body even after a fortnight, he chased after the firefly, aiming his tongue unskillfully and missing the bug each time. Patton whined and whimpered to himself, feeling pity for the little fly that was just trying to go about its day, but the growling in his stomach reminded him that he couldn’t give up, and he continued to chase after the firefly. However, while he was so engrossed with his own bit of hunting, Patton failed to notice that he, himself, was being hunted as well. As quick as a flick, right as Patton was finally about to nab the little fly, a yellow head popped out of a nearby bush and struck him, capturing Patton in its wide jaws. 

“Ah! Please don’t eat me!” He shrieked, flailing wildly as he was pulled off of his lilypad and back onto shore.

However, as soon as he was back over the ground, away from the lake where he had been hunting, he was quickly let go and dropped. Still too stunned by the attack to flee, and much too scared to try and fight, Patton huddled on the ground, covering his eyes with his little webbed hands, waiting for the final strike to come.

“You… talked?” A cool and elegant voice said in surprise.

Confused as to who had just spoken to him, Patton looked up and around for a human but found only a yellow corn snake.

“You… did too?” Patton answered in wonder. Since he had been turned into a frog, Patton had tried over and over to communicate with the other animals of the forest, but to no avail. None of the animals could understand or speak with him—except this one. “Are you like me?”

“Cursed? Yes. I’ve been trying for the past week to undo the spell myself, but my magic isn’t strong enough in this form.” The snake grimaced, curling his body around in a loop to rest himself on like a bench.

“Wow! You know magic?” Patton gasped in excitement, forgetting completely that the snake had tried to eat him only a minute before.

“I just said that didn’t I?” 

Ignoring his rude tone, Patton began to hop around in excitement. He couldn’t believe it, not only did he meet another cursed one, but he met one who knew magic. If he was lucky, perhaps the snake would help him find a way to gain his father’s attention or even turn him into a human.

“That’s so cool! Can you do any cool tricks? My best friend is a sorcerer and he can fly. Can you do anything like that?” Patton asked, speaking fast and fumbling over his words, as he was too ecstatic to pause to properly breathe.

“Well normally I can shapeshift, but as I said before, this small body has weakened my magic. I can barely do anything now.” The snake hissed sourly, dropping his small head down on himself, obviously annoyed and wanting to drop the topic of conversation. 

Realizing that he had upset him, Patton gingerly hopped over to him and reached out a hand to him but froze when he hissed at him and turned away. Sighing, Patton lowered his hand and laid down on his stomach next to him.

He knew the feeling, not being able to do anything like he used to. He still had trouble walking, or rather hopping, not to mention the fact that he struggled to catch anything to eat. It felt weird and wrong to be in another body. Their lives had been stolen from them, Patton had lost his father and best friend, and he couldn’t even imagine what the snake had lost. Life as a cursed one was not pleasant or kind, as the name suggested, it was a cursed existence to live.

But at least it didn’t have to be a lonely one now.

“Do you want to be friends?” Patton asked, looking over at the curled up snake.

His question went unanswered for a heartbeat until he was met with a gruff and snarky chuckle as the snake turned his head a little to peer at him.

“You aren’t too bright, are you?” The snake ridiculed him, “I just tried to eat you, and now you want to be friends with me?”

“Well, there’s no one else to be friends with, here,” Patton replied softly, looking down at his webbed toes.

The snake continued to watch him as though he were analyzing him to his core, trying to reach inside his mind and understand his thoughts. Perhaps, with the help of his magic, he was doing just that. 

With a long and tired sigh, the snake replied and said, “Janus.” Patton raised his head and looked over at him in confusion, waiting for the snake to follow up and explain himself. Once the snake realized that he was waiting for an explanation, he groaned in exasperation and continued. “That’s my name, friends call each other by name, right?”

Smiling wide, Patton hopped up and landed on the snake, pulling him into a hug. “I’m Patton!”

Hissing at him, Janus tried to shake him off but was able to get him off. Eventually, he gave up and accepted his fate of being hugged by the overly affectionate frog.

“I already regret this.”

“Too late!”

...

Growing up the son of a wealthy Lord, Patton had never had to worry about things such as his daily meals and shelter, but both proved to be difficult to come by as a small frog in the forest; especially before he met Janus. 

His first night in the forest was spent underneath a bramble bush as the rain around him threatened to flood his newfound home away. After that he found a little hollowed out log and stayed there for a few days until he was chased away by a badger. The next day Patton found a little hole under a tree and made it his new home.

His meals were also hard found and almost always came in a meager amount. He was surprised by how much he needed to eat despite his small body. However, once Janus came into the picture, finding food became just a little bit easier.

“You closed your eyes again.” A sardonic voice said, interrupting Patton in the middle of his attempt to catch a dragonfly. “Are you expecting the bug to fly its way into your mouth?”

Without being asked, Janus took it upon himself to teach Patton how to properly catch his own food, mostly by criticizing and correcting his every move. It never took the snake long to find his own meal, so he would often spend his time watching Patton try to fill his empty and sad belly while he was happy and full. And while Patton did appreciate the help, he did wish sometimes that his friend would be a little nicer about it.

“But it’s so pretty! And it’s just going about its day. I don’t want to hurt it.” Patton complains childishly, watching the dragonfly flutter away high above his head.

Sighing loudly, Janus slithered his way over to Patton and circled his way around him, draping his long body around him in an almost intimate embrace. With his head, Janus directed Patton’s gaze over the lake.

“Dragonflies eat the gnats that hover over the lake, fish eat the dragonflies that go for the gnats, and humans capture the fish that swim too close to the surface. It’s a perfect cycle that has existed for eons, natural order, and balance.” He murmured into his ear, his voice smooth and sweet, but precise and cold. Patton gulped and shivered uncontrollably. “The magic that you are so fond of is no different. When a being takes a life, another will take it back, that is the karma and balance that maintains order.”

“Even so, does life have to be taken? Can’t someone break the cycle so no more life needs to be lost?”

Janus went quiet, pondering that notion as if it hadn’t occurred to him before. There was a haunting pain in his eyes, old yet fresh, as though a past wound had been agitated by his innocently intended words.

“Hm, perhaps.” He murmured, winding himself around the frog. Patton relaxed once he was let go, yet his body subconsciously followed after the snake to maintain their embrace before he was able to catch himself and remain in place. “You’re an odd one, Patton.”

“Thank you?” The frog said in confused gratefulness, unsure whether he was just complimented or insulted.

Janus gave no further explanation either and only directed him to follow after.

“Come along, I caught enough for both of us to eat, just in case you came up empty-handed again.”

A wide grin spread across his face and he quickly hopped after the retreating serpent. His stomach growled loudly again, almost as if it knew it was about to be filled.

After that, food had become much easier to find, as Patton simply made a daily habit of going to Janus’s den and eating whatever he brought back. The fellow cursed one commonly voiced his complaints about his doing so, but he never failed to bring back enough for both of them.

…

There was something Patton had been wondering about for a while now. The thought came to him fleetingly as a secondary thought as he watched how Janus caught his food.

After his mornings became lonely from waiting alone for Janus to return from his hunts, Patton decided to join him. He promised to stay a ways away to not scare away the prey and he was able to peacefully observe the snake from a distance. It was then that Patton was able to see Janus use magic for the first time.

Sneaking up on whatever creature he was hunting, whether it be a mouse or shrew for him or cricket or grasshopper for Patton, he got just close enough before he would shoot out, yellow light and haze surrounding him, and his prey would be rendered motionless and free for the taking.

It seemed to be a simple spell as Janus was able to use it multiple times in a single day without tiring himself out. Patton recalled his best friend, Virgil, learning a similar spell when they were younger. After two casts he would become faint and would need to rest. Eventually, as years passed and he received training, Virgil learned to cast the freeze spell with ease. Even so, he still had his limit on how many spells he could cast in a single day. Yet Janus never showed any signs of fatigue.

Surely that meant that either the spell was simple and didn’t require a lot of energy, or that Janus was an extremely powerful and talented sorcerer. Which then begged the question as to why he still remained a snake.

“Hey, Janus?” Patton asked unprompted,

“Yes, Patton?” The snake replied, stopping in the middle of a long sip of water he had been taking from the lake.

“If you’re a wizard-

“Sorcerer.”

“Then how did you get turned into a snake? Did you mess up a spell or something?”

Janus paused and sat quietly for a moment, turning his eyes down at his reflection in the rippling water, gazing into it as though it were a Jin Mirror that would tell him all he wished to know. Patton looked down into the water as well but saw nothing besides a snake and a frog.

“I went to a sorcerer more proficient than I and asked to use his advanced spellbook. He agreed, but once he learned what spell I was tampering with, he turned me into a snake and threw me into the woods.” He explained, his voice full of bitterness and loathing. His eyes burned with something harsh and fierce, but it oddly seemed to bear a close resemblance to regret.

“But aren’t you a shapeshifter? Can’t you just shift back?” Patton asked.

“I wish I could, but spells and curses are different. If it had been a simple transformation spell I would have changed back weeks ago. But a curse is much more powerful and can only be undone by the one who caster.” He explained, hanging his head low in despair. “And I doubt that man will change me back anytime soon.”

Remorse was not a good look for the snake. Patton was so used to his usual sardonic smirks and sarcastic grins that it appeared wrong for him to look any other way. What was more, the pain in Janus’s eyes was too raw and made Patton’s heart ached for him.

“Well, that isn’t right!” He declared loudly.

Janus pulled his head up off the ground and looked at him in astonishment, gazing at him as if he couldn’t believe he had just heard what the frog said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“It isn’t right!” Patton repeated, hopping over to his friend and reaching out to hold the snake’s head in his webbed hands. “Just because you wanted to learn a spell isn’t a good reason to be cursed! If I knew this sorcerer, I would march right up and command him to change you back!”

Janus stared at him with wide eyes, lifting his head up further slowly as if to try and confirm that he wasn’t dreaming and that he had actually heard Patton’s silly declaration correctly. After a moment passed between them, the wind and chirps of the forest the only audiable noise between them, Janus erupted in laughter, but Patton didn’t join in with him because it sounded almost sad.

“You're too kind, Patton.” Janus breathed, catching his breath between laughs. “Too kind for your own good.”

“What do you mean?” Patton asked, confused by his odd choice of words.

“Nothing, forget what I said.”

…

Life was, oddly enough, boring as an amphibian. Despite having a human mind and consciousness, he was still in fact a frog. Sleep had come to him more often, so by the time he woke up, half the day was already spent and gone. But, once he was awake, he had almost nothing to do.

Like a snake, Janus slept much more frequently than Patton, around sixteen hours in fact, although he’d never be able to tell since he can’t close his eyes. This meant that, despite their shared meals, the two of them had pretty much nothing to do except sleep. It wasn’t as though there were many options for leisure activities when you were cursed into a small body with tiny, webbed hands, or with no hands at all.

Usually, when he wasn’t with Janus, mostly because he was busy napping, Patton would go to the lake and swim. One small perk of being a frog was the fact that he could go under for hours on end and still be fine. He liked wandering down at the bottom of the lake, looking around and exploring the depths of six feet.

Patton learned very quickly not to venture in too deep, as one sour meeting with a bass taught him that one wrong move could end him up as a tasty snack in a predator’s belly.

Still, the thrill of swimming only lasted so long, and Patton would eventually become bored again. Without Janus, Patton had very little to do, and it became a lonely stretch of hours while he waited for Janus to wake up again.

In spite of his appearance, Patton could not communicate with any of the other kinds of frogs in the forest. It was possible that they themselves knew what Patton was, as all of them stayed clear away from him and never came near him. The fairy tale books were all a lie, he didn’t get any friendly forest animals to befriend.

Although he hadn’t asked, Patton had the hunch that it was the same for Janus, or else he probably wouldn’t have proper cause to remain with Patton. He knew he didn’t have much to offer the snake, he couldn’t help hunt, and he lacked any skill in magic to help him try to find a solution to the curse. Even so, Janus continued to spend his days idly with Patton, chatting and sharing meals, doing nothing of great importance.

Cursed ones were damned in more ways than one, the transformation into lesser creatures was one thing, but then they were sentenced to live life alone in isolation, understood neither by man nor beast. They had no one but each other in their large, forest world. Life as a cursed one was meant to be a life of torment, but at least with each other, it was more tolerable.

Patton sat in a hollow log, not too far away from the entrance to Janus’s den, nodding off as he waited for Janus to wake up. He was determined to stay awake until his friend resurfaced so they could spend the rest of the daylight together. However, the calm strings of the gentle, summer breeze, the chimes of a distant brook, and a choir of birds all sang a soothing lullaby that pulled at him sweetly, weakening his resolve. 

Before he knew it, he was being roused awake by the yellow snake, looming over him with an amused glint in his eyes. Patton smiled up at him and sat up, stretching in a way that was most likely more proper for humans than frogs.

“Afternoon sleepyhead.” Janus teased, backing up as Patton sleepily made his way out of the log.

“I should be saying that to you.” Patton giggled, “Are you all rested up, beauty queen?”

“Trust me, if it were up to me, I wouldn’t spend more than half the day asleep. I can hardly get anything done in just eight hours.” The snake grimaced, slithering away from and around the log.

“I, for one, would love to sleep the day away.” Patton sighed, subconsciously following after him. “I barely got any sleep when I was human, what with all the tutors my father hired to teach me. I still remember the time my Math tutor refused to let me leave for over three hours until I got all the questions on my trigonometry worksheet correct. Mister Nelson was really strict like that all the time, but my Literature teacher was probably worse. She-” 

He went on and on continuously, sprouting random stories from his years of education, which would then inspire more stories from his childhood and teen years. He chased after bunny trails, telling Janus about random things, unsure if the snake was actually listening.

Patton was so focused on talking that he failed to focus on where they were going, only making sure that he remained at the snake’s side so he could keep telling him more stories. It was only when Janus came to a sudden stop that Patton paused to look around at where they had been going the entire time.

In front of him expanded a wide and vast meadow, filled to the brim with tall grass, and a brook that ran through the center, heading back towards the lake. Patton gasped and gawked at the scenery, edging closer to the beautiful field.

“It’s gorgeous,” Patton said,

“Indeed it is.” Janus agreed, his voice soft and tender.

Patton turned around to say something but was caught off guard by the gentle expression Janus was directing at him. Patton could not physically blush, but his heart certainly skipped a beat.

“I want to show you something,” Janus said, slithering on ahead once more. 

Patton remained where he was, watching his every move intently, almost fearful that if he looked away, Janus would disappear like a sweet dream, leaving him alone.

The snake slithered a few paced ahead to where a large rock rested on its side. Climbing up, he settled himself down on the highest point and stretched his body out as far as he could. He closed his eyes, stilled himself, and began to glow a beautiful gold, shimmering in the sunlight. Patton held his breath and time seemed to slow down around them.

Then, almost out of thin air, golden specters were lifted into the sky and took on the form of a snake and a frog. They took to the air and began to chase each other and play, frolicking through the clouds. They ran back down to the ground but continued to hover just above the earth. The specters turned into balls of pure light and circled around Patton in a spiral, sprinkling glitter upon him. Patton giggled and began to chase after the lights, trying to catch one of his hands.

The lights suddenly took to the sky once more and began to take on new forms, but this time they took the appearance of two men, one he recognized as himself, while the other he did not know. The man had a rigid and sharp face and was impeccably handsome. Patton looked over at Janus, still stretched out on the rock, and wondered if the man was him.

The two men joined hands and began to waltz, dancing elegantly across the heavens as though it were a ballroom. Their movements were smooth and graceful, hypnotizing Patton with their dance. Eventually, the two men began to float down together, returned to pure light, and faded away into glitter. Janus ceased his glow and relaxed, resting back and curling his body around.

“That was amazing!” Patton cheered, hopping over to him, “It was so pretty and cool! I can’t believe I just saw that! How’d you do it?”

“It’s a simple light animate spell. I usually prefer to animate shadows, but I thought you’d like the light puppets more.” Janus explained, slightly out of breath.

“I did, I loved them!” Patton grinned and pulled Janus into a hug. The snake stiffened and turned solid, but gradually began to loosen up. “Thank you, Janus.”

“You’re welcome, Patton. It’s the least I could do.”

Patton wanted to ask what he meant by that, but he didn’t. Janus would often say things that he didn’t understand, but every time he asked about it Janus wouldn’t answer.

…

It had been one full month since Patton had met Janus that day he had coincidentally almost been eaten by the said snake. In that time that they had spent together, they had grown close as friends. Their mornings would be spent over breakfast, chatting about random nonsense, and laughing over their mutual love of puns. After that, they would often spend their time around the lake, where Patton would splash around in the shallow end and Janus would sunbathe on the stones along the water’s edge. Once they began to feel famished, Janus would go out and hunt for their next meal and they’d share it again in Janus’s dugout den. As soon as their bellies were full once again they would part ways to go to sleep and start it all over the next day.

It was during one of Janus’s hunts when Patton didn’t join him, that he decided to wander around and explore in search of a new home while he waited for him. As much as he enjoyed his home underneath the tree, it was too small for him to do anything besides sleep, and the wide-open hope in the trunk made it easy for other forest life to find his way into his home. At this point, Patton was tired of chasing away squirrels trying to hide their nuts in his home.

Instead, Patton found a small crevice in the earth, no deeper than four feet. Tall and luscious grass was growing inside the hole, which would make for good bedding; and a large bramble bush grew at the top, overshadowing the hole and offering shelter from the sun, wind, and possible rain.

In blind excitement, Patton rushed down into the crevice to get a better look at what may be his new home. However, a patch this perfect surely had to already be occupied, but Patton was too enthusiastic to think that far ahead.

While pushing around the grass, looking for the best patch for a bed, Patton uncovered a pre-dug hole that had been hidden by the tall grass. Upon seeing it, Patton knew that something else had made that hole and it was not naturally occurring. Even so, Patton had noticed it too little too late, and before he could backtrack his way out of the crevice, a brown and black rat snake shot out of the entrance and aimed its fangs directly at him.

“Janus!” Patton screamed, launching himself into the air and away from the rat snake.

Quick as he could, Patton scurried back up the slope and out of the crevice. However, once glance backward told him that the rat snake was right on his heels chasing him. He tried desperately to shake the predator of his tail, hopping over and underneath rocks and fallen branches, but all his efforts proved futile as the rat snake remained practically glued to him.

“Help me! Janus!” Patton cried again, unsure if his friend could hear him or where he even was.

However, a voice called back in reply to his cry, filling him with relief.

“Patton!” Janus suddenly shot out from the side, tackling his body directly into the rat snake.

Finally free from the chase, Patton was able to escape up a high rock, and subsequently found a vantage point to watch the fight. Janus had plunged his fangs into the backside of the rat snake right underneath its head. The rat snake thrashed and struggled, attempting to wrap itself around Janus to strangle him, but it failed to do so properly, giving Janus leverage to do just that.

The fight lasted several minutes, neither reptile wanting to back down. They twisted and turned over and around each other until the rat snake finally went limp. Once the fight was done and won, Janus let go of his hold on the other snake and slithered over to Patton, who had hopped down from the rock.

“Are you okay?” Janus asked upon reaching the frog.

“Yes, I think I’m all right,” Patton replied and moved to greet him, but once he moved his right leg he winced at a pain he hadn’t realized was there, most likely hidden by the adrenaline rush while escaping.

Janus noticed and commanded him to remain still as he moved closer. Patton complied and remained where he was as the snake slithered up until their faces were resting against each other. At that time, Patton was incredibly grateful that it was physically impossible for frogs to blush, because Patton was sure that if he were still human that he’d be as red as wine from being in such close proximity to his friend.

A moment passed between them in expectant silence, Janus gazed intently into Patton’s eyes, and he looked right back into his, not knowing what else to do. Gradually, a warm, welcoming yellow light began to surround them both, encasing them in a small dome of energy. Slowly, as they remained together in that light, the pain in Patton’s leg began to fade away until it was eventually completely gone, and with it, the light went as well.

“Wow, you’re amazing!” Patton gasped in awe, hopping around in glee that the pain was gone.

Patton had seen a similar spell from his friend Virgil, in fact, he had watched as his friend struggled to learn the healing spell for several weeks until he was able to master it. It was unclear how long Janus had been studying magic, but if he was able to carry out such a spell in the state that he was, he had to be incredibly gifted.

“It’s nothing really,” Janus said sheepishly, turning his head away.

“No, it totally is! You have an incredible gift!” Patton hopped over into the snake’s line of vision and gave him a wide smile. “Thank you, Janus. You saved my life today.”

It had been minuscule, and Patton had almost failed to see it, but he saw the way Janus flinched at his words as if Patton had slapped him with his praise. Patton almost frowned at it, but Janus quickly turned away again and changed the subject.

“It’s nothing. Let’s get you back to your home so you can rest.” He said, leading the way back towards the lake.

His smile fell away at his friend’s aloof behavior, but he gave a shy smile as he chased after and caught up to him, hopping at his side as they went across the forest ground. The ambiance of the singing birds overhead filled their silence and made their walk a little more comfortable, but Patton still couldn’t bear the silence between them, nor could he understand what made his friend act so coldly. After a second of thought, Patton decided to take it upon himself to fill the gap between them.

“This reminds me of when I fell off my horse when I was twelve.” Patton said, laughing lightly as he thought back in his memory, “My dad blew a gasket and confined me to my bed for a week so I could heal. But my friend Virgil, who was apprenticing under the family sorcerer, snuck in and healed me so we could go out and play.”

“Sounds like a strict father,” Janus mumbled, keeping his eyes straight ahead on the forest path.

“I guess. What about your parents?” Patton turned the subject onto the snake, hoping to keep the conversation going. “Did they do things like that too?”

Janus stopped slithering and froze, looking up to the tops of the trees and out beyond to the lake morning sky, which had begun to be overshadowed with gathering clouds. The eerie calm before the coming storm.

“Well… there was this one time I fell sick with a cold. My mother made me hot duck soup and fed me while I laid shivering in bed. My father sat at the fire for the whole night, keeping it lit so that I would be warm.”

“They sound amazing,” Patton said with a warm smile, wondering if his mother had done the same when he was sick. 

“Yeah,” Janus continued on, “They were.”

Now it was Patton’s turn to freeze in place, as he realized he had unknowingly crossed a line and brought up bad memories for the snake. Quickly, he hopped back to the snake's side and tried to apologize for his mistake.

“Oh, Janus I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

“No, it’s alright.” Janus stopped him, letting him off with what would have been a sad smile if he didn’t have the face of a snake. “It was a long time ago.”

One by one, drop by drop, the sky began to cry out and rain fell from the heavens to the earth. The wind picked up and began to beat at the trees, shaking the branches into a wild dance. In the distance, rumbles from the sky began to roar across the land, followed by bright, angry flashes of light and fire.

The two cursed ones rushed their journey to take shelter away from the elements. Then forgoed returning to Patton’s home under the tree, as they risked a lighting strike by doing so. Instead, the snake and the frog went to Janus’s den underground.

Breakfast had not been caught that morning, as Janus had abandoned his hunt once he heard Patton’s panicked call. That meant that their empty stomachs were left to growl and complain at them for the foreseeable future, as it was too dangerous to attempt a hunt during the storm.

The den was dark and cold and damp. The only insulation the hole had was sticks and leaves. Janus, who was now a cold-blooded creature, tucked himself under the small patch of foliage and coiled around himself to keep warm. Once he was comfortable, the snake invited Patton to join him, as frogs were also cold-blooded.

A bit sheepishly, Patton crawled under the leaves and laid down beside the snake. The two rested there quietly, listening to the echo of the rage outside. Slowly, Patton began to tire and grow sleepy, yawning as he let his eyes close.

“Do you ever think about your father?” The snake beside him asked out of the blue, shaking Patton back into wakefulness.

Patton blinked at him in surprise, not expecting Janus to bring up their families again after the last conversation. Janus didn’t look back and kept his face turned away, but Patton still smiled at him.

“All the time.” He answered simply, “I know he didn’t mean to kick me out. He was just so scared that he didn’t recognize me. But eventually, I’ll be able to go back home.” He said confidently, sure to himself that his father was looking everywhere for him, and that Virgil would find a way to turn him back into a human. 

Perhaps Janus could come with him, he was sure that his father would welcome such a powerful sorcerer, and Virgil always loved meeting others in his trade to exchange knowledge and skill with.

“It will be good riddance for me. Then I won’t have to keep hunting for two, freeloader.” Janus huffed, finally looking over at him, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

“Hey!” Patton cried and tackled the snake, landing on his back and wrapping his arms around his long body. Janus let out a squeak and tried to shake him off, cursing him, but laughing nonetheless.

Eventually, the two cursed ones settled down, giggling at each other and panting to catch their breath. Outside, the storm grew stronger, leaving the two stranded together in the den. Tired from the stressful day and their roughhousing, the two fell asleep together, Janus loosely wrapped around Patton like a comforting blanket.

…

Patton woke up sometime later, at what hour he couldn’t know, but the sheer darkness that surrounded him told him that it was late into the night. In that darkness, however, was a pale light casting shadows around him, pulsating instead flicker as a flame would. A tingling sensation covered his body and a warmth settled in his stomach and chest.

It didn’t take long for Patton to direct his gaze up and realize that it was Janus, still wrapped around him, who was giving off the light. The whole of his body glowed a soft yellow color and acted as a sort of lantern. His eyes were glossed over and he appeared to be intensely focused on something.

The frog decided then to remain quiet and simply watch as the snake did whatever he was doing. The intensity of the glow would grow and wane, almost to the point of going out, until it would grow again. Janus looked exhausted and seemed to be struggling greatly, almost as if he had been casting repeatedly without rest for hours on end.

Although Patton wasn’t a sorcerer himself, he did know much about the art from growing up with Virgil. He knew for a fact that casting multiple spells one after another without rest caused severe fatigue and strain on the body. Just as running ten miles with no rest could damage the body, so too could spell casting.

Patton knew it was taboo to interrupt a sorcerer while they were in the middle of casting, as losing focus could cause them to lose control of the spell and harm themselves or the interrupter. But he couldn’t bear to see Janus continue to suffer and endure such pain any longer.

“Janus?” Patton whispered, moving to sit up.

The snake flinched and gasped, breaking focus on the spell and stopped glowing as his eyes snapped down to look at the frog. A force pushed Patton back a bit, drawing a squeak out of him, but Janus’s tight grip around him kept him from falling over.

“Patton, you’re awake.” He noted in surprise, clearing his throat and relaxing his grasp on the frog.

“Couldn’t really sleep with the light flashing.” Patton chuckled sheepishly.

“Right…”

An awkward silence fell on them, heavy with unspoken tension about the spell casting. Patton knew it was rude to try and get Janus to reveal to him what he was doing, and sorcery was a sacred trade, but curiosity remained burning in his gullet to know why and what the snake had been casting. However, instead of intruding on his art any further, he decided to change the topic to his well-being, as Janus was still wheezing ever so slightly.

“Are you feeling alright?” Patton inquired.

“I’m fine.” He answered plainly, laying his head down on the ground.

“Did you want to talk about it?” Patton edged closer.

“I’m okay, Patton, don’t worry. Let’s just go back to sleep.”

The frog pouted but decided to let the topic go and follow Janus’s lead and go back to sleep, but not before he gave one more reassurance.

“Well, alright, but if you ever need it, I’ll be here to listen. Nothing could make me turn away from you, Janus.” Patton told him kindly.

Janus lifted his head sluggishly and peered over at him, his eyes dim and hesitant.

“Are you sure?” He asked softly.

“Of course! We’ll always be together!” Patton grinned.

Janus didn’t smile back but laid his head back down on the dirt floor. Not long after, the steady intake of breaths and light snores told him that Janus had fallen asleep, likely due to exhaustion. 

Patton continued to watch him for a while more, his heart clenched and torn in concern for the other. He wished he had the innate ability to read others’ minds as some sorcerers had, or at the very least could know how the snake was feeling. It was obvious that whatever had caused Janus to act so miserably was somehow linked to whatever spell he had failed to cast.

He worried that Janus might try it again and end up hurt. Especially since it appeared as though Janus was trying to cast it on Patton. The last thing he wanted was for Janus to be hurting because of him.

…

The storm had not yet ended, but merely calmed down to a drizzle. The thunder and lightning had passed over their heads, but could still be heard in the far off distance. However, it was enough for the local wildlife to peek their heads out of their hiding places, drawn out by their hunger from the long night.

Patton was roused awake from the slow dripping water droplets that had seeped down through the earth to reach the den. Shaking his head dry, Patton yawned and stretched, pulling himself out of his little bed nest of leaves and sticks. Behind him, Janus remained asleep, snoring peacefully in a little curled up ball.

He smiled and then frowned; Janus still panted lightly in his sleep and looked sick and pale from overexertion. Patton remembered the look of desperation he had on last night as he struggled in his spell cast. The pain looked torturous and it concerned Patton greatly. He wondered what had caused him to push his body that far, and why he had been trying to spell cast on Patton.

A thought crossed his mind about the possibility that Janus had attempted to break their curse, but he ignored it, as Janus had told Patton himself that only the caster could take away the curse, and Patton didn’t even know who had cursed him.

It had happened all too suddenly for him to completely grasp the situation. He had been out on his daily stroll through the garden, he had heard that a strange man was visiting the manor and was on his way back to the house to greet him when a shadow appeared before him in the center of the walkway. A black puddle, rippling and swaying minisculely like tar, seeped up through the gravel. Patton was about to ignore it, thinking that maybe some ground oil had been pushed to the surface, but then a hand, seeping with the tar-like substance, reached out to him. Panicked, thinking someone was trapped underground, ignorant to the sinister forces at work, he reached out to save them and grabbed hold of the hand.

However, the second that he did, the shadow began to swirl around him and seep into his body through his eyes, mouth, and skin. He had tried to fight it off, but he was helpless to resist the dark magic. Everything went dark, and the next thing he knew, he woke up in the body of a little, green frog.

His father, in grief and anger, refused to believe that the frog was his son and demanded that he be executed. However, Virgil, in defense of Patton, convinced his father to merely banish him, and his father agreed. The guards then took Patton and threw him out over the wall, laughing as they watched him flail around and land harshly on the other side. Patton wandered around, trying to get back to his father to convince him he was indeed his son, but he was never able to make it past the guards. After a week passed, he went and settled in the forest by his home, waiting for the day when he’d finally be able to return.

This was the reason why Patton never learned the identity of who cursed him or their reason for doing so. It had happened all so fast, his cursing and his exile, he wasn’t even sure if his curser had been caught.

However, Janus knew who cursed him, he said so himself, it was another sorcerer who shared different beliefs than him about sorcery and cursed him for it. If he wanted, Janus could have used his magic to find the sorcerer and try to undo his own curse, but he remained with Patton anyways.

Janus had done so many things for Patton in the time that they’ve known each other. He’s fed him his daily meals, saved and healed him from a rat snake attack, and more so just offered his comforting company and ear to listen. Patton wanted to show his gratefulness to the snake for all that he’s done for him but knew he could never fully pay him back for all his kindness.

But he decided to at least start with something small and decided to be the one to provide breakfast that morning so Janus could sleep in just a while longer. 

Leaving the den, Patton went around the rim of the lake and decided to catch some of the flies that usually hovered above the surface. Since Janus usually provided all the meals, Patton still wasn’t that good at catching his food and lacked coordination and timing. However, once he sat in position on a lilypad, floating on top of the water, Patton recalled back to the advice Janus had given him all those weeks ago. 

He kept his eyes trained on the rain-rippled water, searching for any and all prey that may come into view, and once one did, he never took his eyes off of it. Some reservations still nagged at him, but Patton mostly ignored it, knowing that Janus would only get weaker if he did not eat. Once he was locked onto the dragonfly and had a clear shot, Patton shot out his tongue and caught the insect in his snare, yanking it back into his mouth, but making sure he didn’t swallow it.

Happy with his first catch, Paton hopped off of the lilypad and back onto the grass to return to the den to drop off the dragonfly so that he could go and catch more food. The snake usually preferred mice or shrews over crickets and flies, but Patton just had to make do with what he had.

As he returned back to the den, a strange and peculiar light began to shine above his head, creating a dim trail behind it. The light was much too large to have been created by any insect and had an odd purple hue to it. Before Patton could ponder it any further, loud footfall resounded behind him.

Taken off guard, Patton quickly lept into a bush and hid, peering out from behind the leaves to see who had created those footsteps and that light. Out from behind the foliage and trees, walked his best and oldest friend, Virgil. His face was hidden by his favorite black cloak, covered in odd, little purple patches, but Patton still recognized him nonetheless.

Overjoyed to see his childhood friend after so long apart, Patton chased after him as quickly as he could. He almost called out his name to catch his attention, but the words caught inside the back of his throat when he saw him stop directly in front of the den Janus was sleeping in. The purple light he had been following began to fall down slowly and seep into the ground, A light began to shine out of the den’s entrance, signifying that the light was now inside the little hole in the ground. Patton moved again and opened his mouth to say something, but was startled when Virgil suddenly punched his fist through the ground, his hand bursting with magical energy, and ripped a now awake Janus out from the ground.

Janus hissed, screamed, and failed around, but all his efforts were weak and fruitless. He was still too weak from last night, he couldn’t even use magic to defend himself. 

Reaching into the back of his cloak, Virgil pulled out a long, twisted dagger and raised it to strike the snake. But before he could make any sort of move to hurt him, Patton screamed at him, dropping the dragonfly from his mouth, and threw himself at Virgil’s legs.

“Stop it, Virgil, don’t hurt him!” Patton cried and begged, grabbing Virgil’s pants and yanking him as hard as he could, although he knew it didn’t do anything.

Shocked by the sudden intrusion and the familiar voice, Virgil stepped back and looked down at the little frog that was clinging to the cuffs of his trousers. Instantly he recognized who Patton was and his eyes widened in welcomed surprise.

“Patton! You’re okay!” He said in joy and relief, but then a brief look of confusion passed across his features before he switched over to anger and accusation as he asked him, “Why would you defend this bastard?”

“Because he’s my friend!” Patton exclaimed, trying to climb his way up Virgil, clinging to his clothes, in order to get to where Janus was still thrashing around. “Please let him go, Virgil, Janus hasn’t done anything wrong!”

Reaching the top of Virgil’s arm, Patton quickly went to the fist that kept Janus captive and forced it open, causing both he and the snake to fall down. Reacting quickly, Virgil was able to catch Patton before he hit the ground, but he gladly let Janus crash into the dirt. Patton tried to hop away and go to the snake’s side, but Virgil cupped his hands around his small body and forced him to look at him.

“Hasn’t done- Patton, who do you think cursed you?” Virgil questioned him, his dark eyes drilling at him unforgivingly with an unbelievable truth. 

Patton stared back at his oldest friend with wide, incredulous eyes. He hadn’t realized it, but he began to pant heavily as his heart rate spiked and his lungs failed him. His whole body had gone stiff, frozen in terror, and at a loss for what to do or how to react. 

“You’re… you’re lying. Janus wouldn’t… he would never…he...” Patton said aimlessly, unsure whether he was trying to convince Virgil or himself of Janus’s innocence and benevolence. He looked down to Janus for a rebuttal, a shake of the head, a cry of dispute, anything to show that Virgil was wrong. But the snake said nothing, refusing to even look at him, and instead, he hung his head in shame.

After all, they had been through together, the countless hours spent in each other's company, the sweet and tender moments, the silly and nonsensical moments, he is now to believe that Janus had cursed him to live in misery. Janus, kind and caring, snide and cunning, protective and compassionate, had committed such a heinous act against him. Now he was to understand that the cursed snake, who he had been endeared to, who risked his life to save and heal him, was the sorcerer to make him the being that he was, taking him away from his family and friends and everything he had ever loved and known. But Janus was all that he loved and knew in the new life he had built as a cursed one. A false life created after his real one was ripped away.

Patton hopped down from Virgil’s hand and slowly hopped closer, but kept a sharp distance between them. Janus backed away as though the frog’s mere presence had burned him, widening the rift that had been created.

“You… cursed me?” Patton asked, still clinging to the last shred of hope inside of him that it wasn’t true.

“I’m sorry.” Was all that the snake said.

The world crashed around him in that instant and his heart shattered like glass hitting the floor. His breath was stolen away from his lungs like a relentless punch to the stomach. He choked on the sobs that began to spill out of his throat like vomit, the acid of betrayal stung his mouth. He couldn’t cry, however, no matter how much he wanted to, because of the creature he had been turned into. The creature that Janus had turned him into.

“So it’s true?” Patton croaked, “You did this to me?”

Janus looked up at him with sorrow and regret in his reptilian eyes, but Patton refused to see it, no longer able to trust anything the snake did.

“I didn’t mean to, well I did, but that was before I got to know you. At first, I was just trying to get revenge for my parents, but then-” Janus tried to explain himself, but Patton stopped him and cut him off, not wanting to hear his petty excuse for what he had done.

“But then what? How did me becoming this way solve anything?” Patton shouted in a shrill voice, his eyes locked uptight, his body overcome with tremors.

“It didn't solve anything, I know that now. I just wanted to get back at your father and wasn’t thinking about-”

“So even if you didn’t curse me you would have hurt my father to achieve your own selfish goal? No matter what you had done, I would have suffered and you didn’t even care.” Patton accused him, glaring him down with brokenness and unfettered rage, too consumed with grief to concern himself with his own words. “It’s because of people like you that there’s suffering in this world.” He scoffed bitterly.

Janus physically retracted from him, his mouth hung open and eyes wide in surprise and hurt. Patton realized a moment too late that he had gone too far, but he refused to apologize despite the feeling of guilt that gnawed at him. The snake hung his head and breathed slowly to steady his readily increasing pulse.

“Suffering in this world?” Janus repeated in a small, harsh voice, and raised his furious glare back up to meet Patton’s hesitant but firm gaze. “Don’t you dare speak of the world to me, young lord. You’ve lived in a mansion your entire life, having your every need met with the ring of a bell, you’ve always had a full stomach, a warm bed, and a safe home. You don’t know anything about suffering, Patton. You have no idea what I’ve been through.” He yelled,

Patton stared back at him in shock, and regret. After the weeks they had spent together, Patton had believed that he knew Janus very well. Despite not knowing that much about his past, besides him being a sorcerer and without parents, he had thought he was able to understand him. Yet, that notion had been torn away from him that day because he couldn’t understand him at all. He couldn’t see what had brought him to do such harm on those he barely knew, nor did he believe there was a reason that could justify his actions. 

“You’re right, I really don’t know anything about you, do I?” Patton said sadly, his voice quiet and defeated. The anger on Janus’s face immediately fell away and turned to worry and fear. Patton gave him one last smile, forced, and miserable, and then turned away to leave, “Come on Virgil, let’s go home.”

Virgil, who had been silently watching the argument from the sidelines, stepped in and bent down, offering a hand put for Patton to hop on so he could carry him. Patton stepped into his palm and was led away, leaving Janus alone on the cold ground. The light drizzle that had been falling since morning grew heavier and began to pour down more harshly, washing away the earth as the floodwaters began to rise once more. 

“No, Patton, wait!” Janus called out in desperation, “Take me with you! Only the caster can take away the curse. Let me fix this!” 

The small yellow snake tried to chase after them, but Virgil whipped around and hit him with a paralysis spell, stunning Janus and leaving him flopped over on the ground frozen. Patton flinched when he saw Janus get hit and fought the urge to go to his side. Instead, he simply looked away.

“Stay away from Patton! If you even try to go near him again then I will personally end your life.” Virgil threatened him with a deathly serious glower before turning and striding away.

The cursed frog let himself be taken away from his once dear friend in the palms of his oldest, and most trusted friend. He whimpered silently as Janus’s screams resounded through the trees, echoing and crescendoing on the howl of the wind. The tears that he could not physically shed himself, fell from his eyes as the rain ran down his face, allowing him to weep in sorrow as the pain of losing Janus consumed him as his reality.

“Patton! Please, forgive me!” The wind wailed, “Patton! Don’t leave me, please!”

…

The anger of the heavens had died away since last night and had since turned into grieving as the sky wept over the earth and its creatures, flooding the land with tears to wash away the heaviness that had settled in the atmosphere. The earth could not stand the mourning of its beloved friend and reflected those cries with a lament of its own as the earth shook and creaked, land sliding and trees falling, weighed down too much from the shared anguish.

Virgil rode through the rain and the wind on a skittish horse, none too happy about being forced to travel in the terrible weather. Patton sat on his shoulder, taking shelter underneath the brim of his hood. He lied down wordlessly, his eyes low and empty, barely registering the journey away from the forest and back to his father’s estate. His body was cold and soaked, but he didn’t mind too much and welcomed the feeling of icy skin, shivering. 

The sorcerer made a few attempts at light conversation, but Patton only responded with simple noises or grunts, if he answered at all. Eventually, Virgil got the message that he didn’t want to talk and let him be. Although, Patton could feel his anticipation and curiosity eat away at him; and he could understand why. After all, he had at last escaped from the one who cursed him and was to return back to his father and old life, he should be ecstatic and celebrating. That’s how any normal person would be reacting anyway.

After a strenuous period of travel, both physically and emotionally, the two childhood friends arrived at the familiar iron gates. Virgil muttered to Patton to hide further in his hood, and he complied quickly, frightened for what would happen to him if his father’s guards spotted him. Like the last time he saw them in his current form they had tried to kill him and then catapulted him over the wall.

Virgil strode up to the gate and called to be let in. The two men who had been charged with guarding the entrance that afternoon, got up from their bums on the ground, stumbling drunkenly to Virgil to inspect him.

“Sir Virgil? ‘Ere ‘ave you bin all mornin’?” One of the men asked, lazily scratching his ass with one hand and rubbing his bright red nose with the other, a bottle of brandy tight in his grip and spilling out the top. 

“I was searching for the young lord, as per usual.” Virgil responded his head up high and face scrunched up in distaste for the foolish man.

“When’re ya’ goin’ a give up on that?” The second guard asked, equally if not drunker than the first. “We all know he’s dead.”

“Don’t be witless, the boy is not dead but alive. Sober yourselves up and go to the lord of his house and tell him that he will see his son by sunrise tomorrow.”

The two guards, now frightened by what Virgil had said, quickly moved to open the gates, allowing Virgil to enter, before going ahead to the manor to give the message they had been sent with. Patton, who had been listening to the conversation the entire time, peered out from the hood and up at Virgil and asked, 

“What do you mean by ‘sunrise tomorrow’? I doubt my father will welcome me back the way I am.”

“Be patient, I have a plan for that.” Virgil replied as he guided his horse to the stables. Once there he dismounted and handed the reins to the stableboy to unsaddle and care for the animal.

Turning to the house, Virgil went and entered through the servants doors on the far side of the building. The inside was not that much different temperature-wise compared to the outside, and was even darker than it had been out in the rain. Patton looked out at the surroundings over Virgil’s shoulder and instantly recognized it as his old home. The walls and floors were all the same, all the candlesticks sat in their usual places, however they were not lit. Even the curtains, which were normally drawn to let in the sunlight, were pulled shut, allowing the halls to be consumed in darkness. Indeed this was Patton’s home, but it felt more despondent than usual.

Maneuvering his way through the meandering hallways, Virgil arrived at and entered his study, locking the door behind him so that no one could bother him. Stepping to his desk, he lit a single candle with a vocal spell and sat down at his bench and began gathering different ingredients from the many shelves above and beside him. Patton took this opportunity to hop down from his shoulder and onto his desk, choosing to watch his friend work from his seat on an old book. The study was dark and dusty, filled with many odd smells from old spells. The room was in chaos and disarray, books and pamphlets littering every surface. Patton found this peculiar, as he had always known Virgil to be neat and tidy, but he chose not to ask about it at that time.

“So,” Patton began, “You said you had a plan?”

“Oh, yes, I do.” Virgil agreed, getting up in a hurry across the room to rummage around in his aged, wooden chest. He pulled out a filthy looking velvet bag and looked inside, gave it a whiff, and grinned, rushing back to his bench and setting it to the side. “Since you were banished, I’ve been scouring the library for spells powerful enough to undo the curse. After more than a month of searching, I found one that lets you take on a human appearance in the sunlight. So as long as we hide you at night and keep you away from darkly lit places, we should be fine.”

Patton didn’t voice the wave of disappointment that passed over him when he realized that he wasn’t going back to normal forever. He should have suspected as much though, after all, Janus said only the caster can remove a curse. 

Patton shook his head and shooed away any and all thought of the snake.

The bottom line was that he would be human and with his father and best friend again, and that was enough for him to be happy at least for now.

After nearly an hour of preparation had passed with Virgil scurrying around the room, grabbing various ingredients, measuring them into different containers and mixing them in his caldron, Virgil clapped his hands and spoke a vocal spell, igniting the furnace at the far side of the room. The flame had a curious purple tint to it, which symbolized the caster, as most sorcerers preferred to differentiate their magic with a specific color, and Virgil’s was a deep violet. Speaking another spell, Virgil telepathically lifted the small cauldron and set it on top of the flame. It burned and boiled there for about ten minutes until Virgil spoke the same spell and carried the cauldron out of the fiery furnace. He cast another spell to cancel out the fire as well for good measure.

Patton, still sitting atop a stack of books, watched as Virgil took a small cup and dipped it in the caldron to measure out a small portion of whatever concoction he had cooked. Virgil, analyzing the potion, grinned to himself and reached into his pants’ pocket, pulling out a small vial filled with a few drops of a red liquid that looked strangely enough like blood.

“What’s that?” Patton asked,

“Janus’s blood,” Virgil answered plainly, removing the cork from the lid and pouring it carefully into the cup. “a key component to the spell. It’s a good thing that I only cursed him instead of killing him.”

“You were the one who cursed Janus?” Patton questioned, taken aback.

“Of course, there was no way either your father or I would let him get away with what he did without punishment. After you were cast out, I led a hunt for Janus and found him in the city near the orphanage where we lived as children.” He explained, his face turning sour at the mention of the orphanage.

“You knew him?” Patton said, shocked. He never would have guessed that the two had known each other by the way they interacted back in the forest.

Virgil paused in the middle of stirring the cup, setting it down softly and keeping his eyes trained on his own distorted reflection in the liquid. A peculiar air settled around him, Patton wasn’t sure if it was more akin to hatred or fondness.

“It was a long time ago, before the Sage, Thomas, took me in here. Thomas was going to take Janus in too when he saw that he too had the potential to learn magic, but…”

“But what?” Patton pressed further, literally on the edge of his seat as he leaned in to hear more.

“Janus was too angry and wild after his parents’ death, which left him orphaned. Thomas feared that if he was trained that he would use his power for evil.” Virgil scoffed bitterly at that, “Turns out he was right. He may lack proper training, but Janus’s magic is raw and powerful. I was only barely able to win when we fought.”

The frog, and soon to be human, frowned and sat back on his haunches. He knew that Janus had lost his parents, but he hadn’t realized that he had been so young when it happened. Patton had lost his mother when he was young too, but he had been so young that he had almost no memories of her. However, for Janus, he was old enough that he not only could remember them, but young enough to where they were his entire world. 

Sympathy filled Patton for Janus and his experience and he longed to offer him his condolences and comfort. And then he remembered what Janus had done to him, and how he had planned to take away his father, and that feeling of sympathy dwindled down, but didn’t leave entirely.

“Alright, it’s ready, drink.” Virgil directed him, setting the cup down on the table.

Patton looked at the cup, which had become a dark mahogany and was lightly steaming, and hopped down from the stack of books and made his way to the cup and peaked his head over the edge. It smelt both sweet and sour at the same time, which made him flinch away and gag slightly.

Virgil chuckled lightly and helped Patton up with one hand so that he could reach the cup’s contents. Heaving a deep breath, Patton went back and put his lips to the liquid. Part of him hesitated when he realized he’d be drinking Janus’s blood, but he pushed through and took a large gulp.

Again, he ripped himself away and gagged, but this time from the horrible taste. Just then, a numbing sensation took over his body and he flopped over on Virgil’s palm. The sorcerer took him to the center of the room and rested him on the floor and took a step back.

A stinging pain erupted in his veins and boiled throughout his body, the entirety of his flesh broke out in a near unbearable itch, and his bones began to ache and groan in discomfort. A scream tore its way from his throat as he shook and shuddered on the wooden floor. Not even a minute passed before the pain became unbearable and he blacked out.

When he came to, he was lying down in a mock bed on a floor mat with a thin seat cushion under his head. He opened his eyes slowly and took in his surroundings, noticing that he was still in the study. The light of the rising sun shone directly on him from the window, and bathed him in a warm orange glow.

Instantly, Patton could feel the difference in his skin and body. He didn’t feel cold anymore, his back was stretched and straight, and his arms and legs under the blanket felt longer, thicker, and distinctly human. Patton sat up from the bed and reached up to touch his face, and he let out a sob when the soft touch of his cheeks, nose, and forehead was all there.

Virgil, who sat at his side, offered him a kind “welcome back,” as he handed him a mirror. Patton took it from his hands with a “thank you,” and glanced at his reflection, and indeed his old face is what greeted him. Patton sobbed again in joy, relieved and overjoyed that he had at last become human once again.

“I’m human again… I’m…” Then a terrifying realization hit him. “I can’t cry.”

Patton looked at his reflection and realized that no tears had fallen despite his cries, in fact his eyes hadn’t even glossed over. They remained dry and cool, showing no emotional reaction. Patton lifted his hand slowly to his face again and felt around his eyes, but felt a discernible change in them, they weren’t swollen or puffy and held no wetness.

“I can’t cry,” Patton repeated, his voice quiet and empty.

He wasn’t human, after all he had gone through, what he did and who he left behind, he still wasn’t free from the curse. He almost wanted to laugh at the cruel irony.

“I’m sorry Patton, the curse was too powerful, even for me. I could only give you a human appearance.” Virgil apologized, pulling him into a loose hug.

“No, it’s okay.” Patton said, shaking Virgil off and standing up, “Let’s go see my father.”

Virgil followed at his side as Patton walked down the familiar halls and up the stairs to his father’s personal study, where he often spent most of his time. For much of his childhood, his father would work away the day in his study, leaving him to eat alone at the table and play by himself. This meant that if he wanted to be reunited with his father as soon as possible, he would most likely find him in his office.

Once he reached the door, he gave a tentative knock on the door, knowing that his father had a distaste for being interrupted.

“Leave me! I don’t wish to see anyone right now.” His father’s gruff voice called through the other side of the door. 

“Father? It’s me, Patton.” He called back shyly,

A crash and the sound of shattering glass could be heard from inside the room but the door was ripped open swiftly before Patton could worry for his father. A short, wrinkled old man stood before him still wrapped in his nightgown and robes. His eyes were sunken and bloodshot from lack of sleep and his face was grimy and unshaven. Patton briefly wondered who the man before him was, as he had always known his father to be prim and proper, until it dawned on him that in his absence, his father had become a hollow of his former self, shriveled and faded by grief.

However, despite his dismal appearance, in that instant, his father lit up like a bright Christmas candle as he teared up and cried in disbelief and joy. He reached out warily and gently laid his hands on his face, as though Patton would turn to dust before his very eyes and disappear from his life again. However, once he was sure that it was his son standing before him and not an apparition, he pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

“Patton, my son, you’re finally back!” He wept gladly,

“I’m home,” Patton said weakly, feeling the wetness of his father’s tears soak into his shirt, but nothing from himself.

“Why did you leave me?” His father asked, more to himself than as a legitimate question towards his son.

Because you cast me out. Patton thought but did not say.

...

A week had passed since he had come back to his father’s house, and since then he had not been allowed off the premises. Most days he was confined to his room, with the occasional excursions to the dining room or bathroom, but he was always accompanied by at least two guards from the moment he stepped out of his room. 

The first day his father had thrown a banquet in celebration for his arrival back at the estate and had sent out speedy word to all of his close business partners and people of note from the town to join in the festivities. However, the party had been stiff and awkward, as Patton didn’t know any of the guests well and most of them only spoke to him in congratulations for his return and their interest in their future as partners once Patton took over his family’s wealth and tenant farms.

Since then he saw his father every day at all of his meals, but only then. His father would always speak about the prospect of spending a day together in town, but whenever Patton would ask about it, his father would always say he would have to postpone it for later, as he was far too busy with work. When they finally did go to town, it had been a short, awkward outing, surrounded by four guardsmen, neither of them knowing what to talk about. They went out to lunch and bought Patton a brand new, tailored suit and spoke about his father’s business as the old man showed him around his town office where his employees managed his tenant's harvest quotas and debtors interest and balances. 

Patton only half-listened to the lectures as they walked through the little port town’s streets. Instead, he looked around at the buildings and people, searching for something, but he wasn’t sure what until he spotted it. At the end of once long street was a little half-decayed brick building--the town’s orphanage. Three young boys played jacks together in front of the steps to the building, and, despite his current feelings, Patton couldn’t help but imagine what Janus would have looked like as a young boy playing outside the orphanage, possibly with Virgil.

Once the sun sunk past noon, his father decided it was time to head back to the manor and the two of them loaded into the carriage, while the four guards and the coachman sat on the front and back seats. During the ride, his father continued to talk about his company and his future plans to start Patton as an intern next spring so that he can gain experience before he took over, as his father was planning to retire within the next few years as his old age began to weigh down on him. Again, Patton mostly tuned him out and simply watched the scenery pass by as they left the city and began to enter the countryside.

After a while, they entered the forest that surrounded their house, and Patton immediately perked up. He couldn’t help but scan the trees and bushes for Janus, hoping to at least catch a glance of the snake. He hated to admit it, but ever since he left, Patton often found himself wondering about him and whether he was okay. He had left him while he was weak and tired, and he feared he may have gotten sick in the storm. But then the remainder of what Janus had done to him would always come to his mind soon enough and he would cut his worries short. 

It didn’t take long for Patton to realize that it wasn’t only his inability to cry that had presented itself. Patton still slept at odd hours and could hold his breath underwater for over an hour, which he had tried while he was bathing, and his palette still held the desire for insects, which meant he often had to force his food down unwillingly. Thankfully, those traits were easy to disguise as a human in the few hours he interacted with his father and the staff and no one was none the wiser to his true condition. Except of course Virgil, who had been the one to continuously help Patton navigate the changes to his body.

Every night after the sun had set, Virgil would come to his chambers with different potions and spells, researching and testing ways to undo the lasting effects of the curse--and also to feed Patton insects so he wouldn’t starve from going a day of stomaching very little food. If it had been anyone else, the staff probably would have become suspicious of the constant nightly visits in his personal chambers. However, since it was Virgil, who had been raised alongside Patton and treated like a brother to him, no one batted an eye.

A week had gone by with no progress, but Virgil still came by that night after his outing with a brand new potion for him to try. Unsurprisingly, it bore no fruit when Patton drank it and there had been no physical change to his body. Virgil frowned and groaned when yet another attempt failed to work and opened up his spellbook on transfiguration to look for another solution.

Patton sat in the middle of his bed, munching on a few of the crickets Virgil had caught in the garden. He watched Virgil hover a foot off of the ground as he flipped through his book, which was suspended in the air by a purple glow. It was a little odd to see Virgil use his magic so easily and without much thought. Despite growing up with him and being more than well aware of his affinity for the magical arts, Patton couldn’t help but compare it to Janus’s style of magic, which had always appeared more strenuous and focused. Perhaps it was because of his cursed form hindering his powers, or maybe it was the fact that he was self-taught, but Janus always had to take his time and use all his strength to spell cast. While Virgil on the other hand, cast spell after spell as easily as he breathed air through his lungs.

Then again, the more Patton thought about it the more he realized that Janus had rarely spell cast at all in the time he was with him. He often preferred to use his own physical strength over his magic. The only times Patton ever saw Janus use magic was when he was using it for him, such as well he put on that light show or when he healed him after he was attacked by a rat snake. He never used his magic for himself, he was never selfish or cruel with his power, only thoughtful.

An ineffable emotion settled in Patton at the thought of Janus acting selfless, because that image had been tainted by his selfishness. Even so, Patton couldn’t help the fondness in his heart as he reminisced on the memories he shared with the cursed snake. But the bitterness still lingered in the back of his mind like a dark shadow.

His heart and mind were in conflict with each other and confused about what image he should remember Janus by. As the caring friend who shared in his suffering in their cursed world. Or as the liar and manipulator who had cursed him with ill intent towards his father. Patton couldn’t settle on one and be left to wonder how Janus had become the way he was; what had brought such a kind-hearted man to be filled with such hate. 

He remembered that Virgil had mentioned that Janus was angry and unhinged as a child after he was sent to the orphanage, which meant that whatever had caused him to become the way he was had to do with the reason why he was sent there in the first place: his parents. The only time Janus had ever mentioned his parents it had been with sorrow and longing, accompanied by the mention of their deaths. Now, Patton was no detective, but it didn’t take a genius to connect the dots between Janus’s wrath and the loss of his parents. However, while that explanation certainly filled in pieces of the picture, much of the canvas was still left unpainted. 

“Hey, Virgil?” Patton asked suddenly,

“Yeah, Pat?” Virgil responded without looking away from his spellbook.

“You said you knew Janus when you were in the orphanage. Do you know why he was there?” He asked hesitantly, unsure if Virgil would even answer him. It was more than a little obvious that Virgil had a distaste for the snake, but he was the only one Patton could talk to and possibly answer his questions.

Virgil, startled by the question, immediately snapped him away from the book and over at Patton, his face riddled with shock, dubiety, and bewilderment. The book ceased its magical glow and fell to the floor in a defiant crash as Virgil lost his concentration, ending his own hovering as well and standing to his feet. After a taut, wordless moment passed between them, Virgil sighed and walked over to sit at the edge of the bed. Once he was seated, Patton inched cautiously to rest at his side.

The sorcerer’s face was tight and twisted in discomfort, as though the answer to Patton’s question was not a pleasant topic to speak of and weighed heavily on him. Patton waited patiently next to him until Virgil was okay to reply if he wanted to at all.

“I don’t know the details, but I overheard our house mother speaking with the baker while he was making his delivery the week he arrived. According to her, his parents had been jailed and executed.”

“What, executed?” Patton gasped, taken off guard, “Do you know what for?”

Virgil shook his head slowly. 

“No, Janus never said anything about it either. Although, he did once say that he lived on a debtor’s farm.”

Patton looked up at Virgil in fear and disbelief, and then looked off at nothing as he took in what he had just been told. To lose his parents at such a young age is one thing, but for them to have been executed was something else entirely. Of course, the death of his parents, no matter the cause, would surely be a source of resentment and anguish; but their execution gave Janus a direction to point all of those negative feelings. That revelation made Patton fear whatever reason had brought Janus to point them at his father.

Virgil, noticing Patton’s troubled expression, turned the conversation back towards him, steering away from Janus’s parents’ cause of death.

“Why do you care? He’s the one who cursed you, remember?” Virgil told him,

“I know.” Patton mumbled, turning his head down at the bed, “I just want to know why he did.”

...

Since Patton was no longer allowed to leave the residence without his father’s permission, and Virgil often spent most of his time in search of a cure for his condition, Patton was left with little to do to entertain himself. In order to alleviate his boredom, he would take light strolls through the manor’s gardens daily and tend to the flowers. Of course, the family already had a hired gardener, but the old man never minded the little extra help. His assigned guards would sit under a nearby tree and monitor him, but otherwise never spoke to or bothered him. The old man, on the other hand, Patton soon learned loved to tell stories from his youth. Patton enjoyed the company and would ask him questions to keep him talking.

Yet, there was only so much work that could be done in a day, and Patton would always be left with nothing to busy his hands and mind with to keep his thoughts at bay. After some odd hours passed, the old man would call it a day and head back inside to rest, leaving Patton alone without direction for what to do next.

His family’s property was quite expansive, so not only was there a beautiful garden, but also a shallow pond. Patton would regularly use the pond to swim in as a small child, but he had long since grown too large for the water, so he would simply rest at its edge, dipping his feet in and kicking the water around. By himself, not including the guards' several paces away, he would hum and sing to himself an old tune his mother would sing to him. He didn’t remember her too well, and in fact, this song was the only memory he had left of his mother.

“Upon a hill, under the sky, sat a bakers mill, alone without a wife. Lonely little man, on his own without his true, a flower in his hand, and his knees in the morning dew.” 

Patton’s voice shook and cracked as he held the last note, his throat clenched and closed in the middle of a breath, causing him to lightly choke. He inhaled and exhaled deep breaths to steady and calm himself, but his emotions raged and stirred inside him like a typhoon, scratching at him to be let out.

In an outburst, Patton ripped at the grass beside him and threw it with a scream. Next, he tore the glasses from his face and reached his hands into the pond and splashed the water over his eyes, allowing the tears that could not fall to fall.

It had been ten days since he had learned that Janus had been lying to him, ten days since he had left Janus alone in the forest, and ten days that he’d been longing to see him again. Patton was still so angry and hurt that Janus had cursed him, but more so that he had acted as though wasn’t the one who did it and played innocent. He was resentful that he had to, and still has to, live a cursed life as a frog because of something he had no part in, and that if it hadn’t been him, it would have been his father, who he loved.

And yet, at the same time, Patton felt empathetic towards Janus’s plight. Although he couldn’t comprehend it entirely, he did understand the grief of the loss of a parent to some degree. Patton would give almost anything to have his mother back, and if the disease that took her was a person, he surely would hold hatred towards them.

Besides that, Patton purely just missed the snake. He longed to hear his sarcastic comments and sardonic humor once again. He wanted to be able to rattle on and on and be comforted by his inviting presence. He loved the way Janus would always respond to his puns with an even cornier pun and missed the way they would constantly try to outdo the other, only to be left a giggling mess by the end of it.

He was stuck, unsure of what he should do and how he should feel. He tried to ignore his emotions in hopes that he could simply forget him, but Janus was like a stick of gum trapped in his hair and refused to leave his mind no matter what he did. Worst of all,  the part of him he remembered the most, was the way he had been begging when he left. It was clear he was repentant and wanted to right his wrong and help Patton become human again, but he had been too consumed by his anger to listen.

Patton still held the belief that no act of revenge was ever completely justified. An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind. Even so, he had never even bothered to try and learn Janus’s side of the story and made a judgment based on his own personal experience. That’s why he knew what he had to do, he had to learn the truth of what happened between Janus’s parents and his father, from both sides.

Paying no attention to his guards, Patton placed his shoes back on his feet and stood from the grass and marched back to the house, entering from the back door next to the stables. The halls were dark and dimly lit by odd patches of sunlight from the barely parted curtains. Patton strode through in a flurry, yanking the drapery open as he went and flooding the area with light. The servants and maids watched him go by scrupulously as they worked, muttering amongst themselves in hushed whispers.

He rushed to his father’s office, practically sprinting his way up the stairs, and pounded his fist against the wood once he reached the door. He was sure that he looked like he had gone mad to the staff, but at that moment he was too single-minded to care.

“Who is it?” His father called gruffly from inside, sounding a bit annoyed and offended by the abrupt, loud knocking.

“It’s your son,” Patton responded, pushing his way in through the door, not bothering to wait for his father’s approval to be allowed in. “I need to speak with you.”

“I’m preoccupied at the moment, son. Perhaps later?” His father said without looking up from the letter he was busy writing.

“It can’t wait.” Patton said firmly, standing his ground and refusing to budge or leave.

His father paused in his scribing and looked up at Patton with a raised eyebrow. Patton had always been quiet and submissive, never asserting himself to or refusing his father in anything he did. This time was different though, he stood up taller and more confident, putting his foot down in this matter. His father looked at him, almost impressed and welcoming to his new manner.

“Very well,” He conceded, setting his quill down, “What troubles you?”

Patton faltered slightly at that, unsure what to say now that he finally reached the moment of truth, but he steeled himself, took a breath, and pushed forward, ready to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth.

“Father, did you ever know a man named Janus?” Patton asked bluntly,

“Humph, he’s the wicked sorcerer who cursed you isn’t he?” His father harrumphed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaned back in his armchair.

“Well, yes, he is, but do you happen to know him personally, or his parents?” He pushed further, walking closer to his father’s grand, dark oak desk. 

His father scowled at that and turned his head over to the side, scrunching his eyebrows in what seemed akin to remorse, or perhaps detestation. Whatever the emotion the mention of Janus’s parents brought up in him, it was clear that they were not a pleasant memory for him.

“I never knew the boy myself, but his parents were debtors of mine that owed me more than their weight in gold combined. They were minor nobility, barely even scraping the bottom of the barrel, and in financial ruin. Frederick came to me for a loan, but never paid a cent back and eventually lost all I gave him. They worked one of my plots for a few years, but they were unskilled laborers and struggled to bring in any grain to pay back what they owed. After a while, they had tried to make a run for it, and I had them thrown in a debtors prison and they were eventually executed. I took pity on the boy, however, and had him sent to the orphanage; a mistake I now regret.” His father explained, his voice and expression shadowed with tainted memories of the past.

Patton’s body tensed up and his jaw clenched as his breath caught in his throat and he had to force it down. Deep inside, he had already known the truth but could not bear to accept until now. After all, Patton loved his father and didn’t want that image of him to be blighted.

“You… killed his parents?” Patton murmured, 

“Not me, son, the authorities did. I simply turned them over once they were caught.” He corrected,

“But, you could have shown mercy, couldn’t you? You could have lowered their interest rate or forgave them of their debt!” Patton tried to argue, trying to find a solution or a loophole for a consequence that had already taken place and could not be altered.

“If I forgave every debtor of their account then I would drive myself into financial ruin. It was their actions that brought them to poverty, and their decision to run that led to their demise.” His father expounded in his own defense. Yet, he didn’t try to justify what had happened, only explain the extent of his role. “I admit that I could have gone about it in another way, but what’s done is done. I cannot bring those two back from the dead.” His father sighed and leaned his elbows on his desk, resting his face in his palms, suddenly looking much older and tired. “Learn from my mistakes, son, so that when you become the landlord you will be wise as to where to lend a hand and were to draw a line.”

Patton wanted to retort and argue, but at that point it would only be for the argument's sake and would not serve to bear good fruit. His father was right, what happened in the past could not be changed, choices were made and lives were unfortunately lost, and a boy was left orphaned and alone. No amount of apologies or plans for revenge would ever undo what had been done.

Janus had once told him that balance rested in karma, a life for a life, but Patton didn’t believe in such a thing. If nature dictates that the child shall pay for the sins of the father, then he will reshape the natural order and refuse to take revenge so that the next generation can be spared. He could never speak for Janus, nor could he ever understand what it felt like to lose his only family in such a horrendous way, but the cycle of hate had to be broken, and he will end it with him by choosing to forgive and go back to Janus.

Despite his previous reservations, Patton could deny himself no longer, he had to see Janus. He needed to apologize to him, for everything he had done and what his father did.

So, that evening, as the sun began to kiss the horizon, Patton retreated to his chambers and began to pack his bad in secret. He hoped to sneak out before the light of the sun disappeared and left him to return to his amphibian state. Slipping past the guards wasn’t going to be easy, but he used to do it all the time when he was little. Of course, he had the help of Virgil and his magic, but he was sure he could pull it off on his own.

“Going somewhere?” Virgil asked behind him. 

Patton jolted up and spun around, hand on his chest as his heart threatened to burst from his chest. Virgil, who had been hovering upside-down behind him, laughed and spun around in the air to face right-side-up and settled himself back on the ground.

“What’s all this about?” He inquired, gesturing to the half-packed sack on Patton’s bed.

If not for the side effects of the curse and spell, Patton would have been bright red, but instead he simply smiled sheepishly and turned back to his back around to grab an extra change of clothes and place it in his bag.

“I’m going back to the forest to see Janus.” He stated.

“Why would you do that? Did you forget what he did to you already?” Virgil questioned him, losing the previous light-hearted and mischievous disposition.

“My father is responsible for the death of Janus’s parents.” Patton told him, walking over to his bedside table and reaching into his drawer to pull out a small sack of gold coins. “That’s why he cursed me, to take away the only family my father had, just as he had done to him.”

“And? You're gonna forgive what he did just like that? What your dad did was shit, but that doesn’t change the fact that what Janus did was fucked up too.”

“I know that, and I’m still mad at him!” Patton retorted, raising his voice, “But, now I understand his reasons. It still doesn’t justify it, but it does explain it.” He said, his eyes then softened and his voice went quiet again, “He was just suffering.”

Malicious acts of revenge brought on by suffering only breeds more suffering. The only cure to pain is to move forward and live life well. When his time came to take up his father’s mantle he will be responsible for hired workers and debtors, and it will be his responsibility to be gracious and compassionate towards those under him. He will not be the kind of man his father was, he will show mercy and protect those he’s been charged with. But he will also show restraint and solidity, so that he will not be viewed as weak and taken advantage of.

Patton was willing to forgive Janus and give him a second chance because he showed remorse for his actions and a will to change his ways. Had he not, Patton wasn’t sure he would have allowed himself to go back, no matter how much he wanted to.

“You fell in love with him, didn’t you?” Virgil grinned, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“W-what? Why would you ask that?” Patton spluttered in embarrassment, staring back at Virgil with wide eyes while his friend laughed.

“Come on Pat, it’s kinda obvious.” He said, wiping away a tear from his eye.  Patton kept his mouth shut and crossed his arms away, not wanting to give anything away despite being an open book. Virgil shrugged and reached past him to grab his packed bag and threw it over his shoulder and walked over to the open window, where he had most likely come in from in the first place. “Are you coming?”

“You’re not going to stop me?” Patton question, having expected a bit more resistance from his childhood friend.

“Would you listen if I tried?” Virgil countered, 

Patton chucked and grinned, already knowing the answer and glad to have Virgil’s, perhaps begrudging, support. He went to the window and grabbed Virgil’s outstretched hand, and with one word from the sorcerer, they were out the window and flying away towards the forest. The sunlight shone its last bit of rays over the horizon before disappearing, and by the time they landed back to earth, Patton had once again reverted back into a frog.

…

The twilight forest glittered and glistened as fireflies danced through the trees like flickering candles. The sky above their heads became stained with black ink as the crescent moon began to rise into the sky. Hues of purple and pink remained far off on the edge of the earth, fading away as the night grew long. The crickets chirped and strung their instruments in an orchestra, filling the quiet void with music as the singing birds slept. A new melody then rose up to accompany their strings, a pounding drum of footsteps running across the forest floor, with the occasional clang of a symbol from crunching leaves and snapping sticks.

Virgil sped down the dirt paths to the lake with Patton tucked safely in his hood, peering over his shoulder and directing him where to go since his frog-state granted him night vision. They had flown most of the way there, but they had to land in the open meadow before they reached the den since landing in the trees was too risky to do in the dark. Luckily, Patton recognized their whereabouts and was able to guide them to where they needed to go.

Soon enough, they had arrived at the threshold of the den at the base of an old cedar tree. Virgil slowed down to a stop and lifted his hand to Patton for him to step into and sat him down on the ground.

“I’ll be right here. You go do your thing.” Virgil told him with a tilt of the head, crouching to settle down comfortably in the grass.

Patton nodded and turned to the den entrance and suddenly felt extremely nervous. It had only been a little less than two weeks since he last saw Janus, but it felt like much longer. He didn’t know what to do or say or how Janus would react to seeing him again. It could be that Janus wouldn’t want to see him and cast him away, or perhaps he would be overjoyed and welcome him back readily. Well, no matter what reaction he was met with, Patton decided that he would go and was not about to back down from that decision.

Patton took his first step, and then his second, and continued on until he was on his way down the tunnel into the den. The air was stiff inside and slightly dank, it seems colder than usual as well despite the night air being warm above.

“Janus?” Patton called out cautiously, peering around the den, “Are you here?”

“Patton?” A hoarse and sleepy voice answered.

Patton turned his head to where the voice had come from. At the far side of the den, among the pile of twigs and leaves, Janus stuck his head out and stared at him in disbelief. 

“Janus!” Patton squealed in excitement, hopping over to him swiftly like lightning and pulled him into a tight hug. Janus lurched in surprise from the sudden act of intimacy, and yet he did not pull away. “I am so sorry Janus, I should have let you explain yourself, I should have listened, I was just angry and-” Patton said in rapid-fire succession all in one breath, not pausing to breathe or rest. Janus quickly interrupted him, though and quickly put an end to his long-winded apology.

“Stop, Patton, stop, please don’t apologize to me. I’m the one who should be begging for your forgiveness.” He told him, his voice quiet but earnest, “Why did you come back?”

“Because I’ve missed you, and I know what happened, to your parents I mean.” Patton explained sympathetically.

“Oh,” Janus said, becoming uncomfortable and didn’t say anything more, clearly not waiting to visit or talk on the subject.

Patton didn’t really know what to say either, but still tried to offer his condolences, even if they meant very little to alleviate his pain.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” Janus didn’t openly respond to his solace and let the topic fall, and instead turned the conversation back around and at Patton.

“You’re not angry anymore?” He asked,

“No, I am,” Patton said bluntly, smiling softly, “But that doesn’t change the fact that I still love you.”

Patton could see Janus physically and mentally halt at his words, as though he was still processing what he heard.

“You love me?” He echoed slowly,

“Yeah, I-” Janus then out of nowhere, shocked him by nipping at his leg. Not enough to make him bleed, but enough for it to sting. “Ouch! What was that for?”

“Are you sure you’re not dreaming? You realize who you’re talking to right?” Janus asked for confirmation, still looking unsure and doubtful.

“Yes I do, but now you’re starting to make me rethink-” Again, Janus surprised him, but this time with a, albeit awkward, embrace as the snake did his bed to hug him as a creature with no limbs.

“I love you too.” He whispered back,

Patton gasped a little at the confession, half of him expecting to be rejected, and his heart filled with joy and exuberance. He suddenly felt like he was floating high above in the sky, dancing across the surface of the moon.

“I’m so sorry.” Janus whimpered,

“I know, I am too.” Patton shushed him, petting his scales soothingly.

“I’ve wanted to undo the curse for a long time, but my magic is too weak in this form.”

“I may have a solution to that,” Patton said, pulling with a smile.

He gestured for Janus to follow after him and led the snake out of the den and outside to where Virgil remained seated in the dew-soaked grass. Janus immediately tensed up upon spotting him and hissed, backing away defensively.

“Sup, Janus.” Virgil greeted nonchalantly,

“What are you doing here?” Janus questioned impudently,

“I’m here for Patton, not for you; and let me just say one thing.” Virgil rose to his feet menacingly, “If you hurt him in any way again, then next time I’ll turn you into a flea and squash you myself.”

“Please don’t do that.” Patton chimed in, sighing, “Can you undo his curse?”

Virgil narrowed his eyes at Janus, and Janus narrowed his eyes right back. The two appeared to be having a silent game of wills. It could also be that they were using a spell to speak to each other telepathically as sorcerers because after a few moments passed, the two seemed satisfied as if they had come to a mutual agreement.

“Fine, just hold still, snake,” Virgil commanded, holding his hand out at Janus as both it and his eyes began to glow. Words of an unknown language began to spill from his mouth, and at the same time, Janus began to glow with a purple gleam.

Gradually, Janus’s shape began to alter and change, and as this happened, his power and magic began to be restored to its former strength. So, without waiting to finish his transformation, Janus turned to Patton, stuck halfway between a snake and a human, and started to lift the curse on him as well. A radiant gold surrounded Patton as he began to shift back into his human form. However, unlike all the times before when he had turned once he was touched by daylight, it wasn’t excruciating or painful. Instead, it was soft and comforting and filled him with new life and energy.

After a minute or two, the light around them began to fade, leaving the two cursed ones to be cursed no more and fully human once again. Patton looked down at his hands and feet and saw that they were his own, however, it wasn’t until tears of joy began to prickle at his eyes that he realized that he was indeed back to himself for good. 

“I can cry again.” He sniffled, wiping the tears away from his eyes and staring down at the water in his palms with jubilee.

“And I can finally do this,” Janus said before grabbing Patton by the bicep and pulling him into a kiss.

It was short and not very deep, but it was sweet and passionate, and more than enough to make Patton flush a bright red. The moment passed quickly, however, as Virgil soon stepped between them and pushed them apart.

“Dress first, kiss later, you damn snake.” He said, throwing a set of clothes in his face and handing another pair and glasses to Patton.

It wasn’t until he said that that Patton looked down at himself and realized that he was, in fact, nude. He squeaked and rushed to cover himself, blushing even more furiously and not daring to lift an eye towards Janus.

“You just had to ruin my fun, I actually prefer to do it undressed-”

“Thank you for the clothes, Virgil, but do you mind giving us some privacy so we can talk?” Patton hastily interrupted, stopping Janus before he could say anything too risque.

Virgil looked hesitant to comply, obviously against leaving his friend to be left alone naked with the other man, but eventually gave in to the puppy eyes that Patton gave him.

“Fine, but I’ll be watching,” Virgil said and floated directly upward into the trees to sit on a branch high above their heads, out of earshot, peering down at them like an owl.

Patton watched him as he went, and once he saw that his friend had settled down he looked back to Janus, who was staring at him intently. 

“Um, Janus, you mind turning around?” Patton asked shyly, fidgeting awkwardly on the balls of his feet.

“If you insist, although you are rather beautiful to look at.” Janus complimented with one last look before turning himself around and getting dressed in the spare clothes Patton had brought along in his bag. Patton twirled around as well, keeping his eyes up and not daring to look anywhere south.

The two remained quiet for a moment as they clothed themselves in the dark. Patton missed his ability to see in the dark as a frog for just a moment, as he ended up putting his shirt on backward twice before he was able to get it right. Once they were decent, the two spun back around and looked at each other, both at a loss for words. 

The forest was poorly lit in the night, the crescent moon unable to provide as much light as when it was full. Due to that, despite Janus standing right before him, he could only see his silhouette and couldn’t determine any distinct features. What he did notice, though, was that he was slightly taller than Janus by about an inch or two. 

Janus must have had a similar train of thought because he silently cast a spell to illuminate the area around them, the same light spell he had used in the meadow as a present. All at once, Patton was able to see Janus for the first time as a man and not as a snake. He had sharp, pointed features and medium length, wavy brown hair. Although, what stood out to him the most was his beautiful heterochromatic eyes, with his brown right eye and golden-hazel left. His beauty took his breath away and he was left to stare at him in wonder.

Tenderly, Janus reached out a hand to cup Patton’s cheek and run his thumb across his cheek, wiping away the tears that had begun to fall. Patton sighed and leaned into the touch, placing his hand over the others. They remained like that for a few moments longer, neither wanting to let the feeling of each other pass. However, something left unsaid still remained between them that needed to be voiced.

“So, what now?” Patton murmured,

“I don’t know.” Janus stated, frowning and lowering his hand, “Despite my love for you, I don’t believe I’ll ever be able to forgive your father.”

“I thought so.” Patton said with a sad smile, “But maybe you don’t have to.”

“What do you mean?” The other asked,

“Perhaps we can go away together, travel around until my time comes to be the landlord. I can live among the commoners, so that I may better understand them and their lives. That way I can be a kinder master to the tenants.” He suggested,

Patton still loved his father, and although he was angry with him for what happened in the past, he wasn’t sure he’d ever truly been able to hate him. But that’s because of their familial bond and he can’t, and shouldn’t, expect the same from Janus. He would miss him, but he needed to get away so that he could think and grow on his own. His father has been overly protective and stifling since his mother’s death; he was already twenty-three years old and had never set foot out past the port town. It was a time that he left the nest, even if he didn’t have his father’s permission. As long as he had Janus by his side he knew he'd be okay.

“How would your father feel about your sudden departure?” Janus asked him,

“I will write to him when I can so he will know that I am well.” Patton responded, “So, what do you think?”

Janus brought his fist up to his chin and lightly tapped his skin with a finger, humming in mock thought.

“It sounds like the perfect revenge.” He grinned.

.

.

Taglist: @enragedbees @canvas-the-florist @self-taught-mess

[peachy-beomie]

Yellow <TAEGYU>

Genre: Light Angst

Pairings: Taegyu (Kang Taehyun x Choi Beomgyu)

Word Count: 1,829

Warnings: None!

Synopsis: In a world where you cant see color until you meet your soulmate, Kang Taehyun lives his life in monochrome. He’s never experienced color. But one particular boy makes him realize that maybe color isn’t all about what you see.

A/N: This is one of my FAVORITE ideas I’ve ever come up with. It was intended to be much longer but I struggled to write the whole thing and this actually turned out really good! I might write a second part so maybe be on the lookout for that 👀

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29409198

Taehyun’s POV

People tend to take for granted that which they have no fear of losing. Things so constant and ordinary in life, like hope and freedom. But some people are not blessed with the luxuries of consistency, and even those who are can learn just how quickly things can be ripped away. In this world of soulmates and colorless lives, people learn very quickly to cherish what they have.

Color, a word which here means: varying pigments and shades; is a concept unknown to me, as it is to many others. Everyone has a soulmate, our ‘perfect match’ or ‘other half’, the person who will complete us. It’s said that when you and your soulmate first lock eyes, the world explodes with colors, vibrant and dazzling. My parents used to tell me stories of blazing sunsets that would leave them breathless, and of endless fields filled to the brim with flowers who’s hues outmatch the very sun. They talked on and on about colors, and they’d always tell me: “One day, you’ll see them too, with someone you’ll love more than life itself.” 

As a kid, I’d dream of meeting the person who’d make my world come alive with countless tones and hues. But as I grew up, I began to worry less about finding my soulmate, though I never stopped dreaming of a world beyond the monochrome I’m all too familiar with. 

And as I’m sitting at my desk at 3 am, nose buried deep in the history texts I’m memorizing, color, soulmates, and all their mystery are the last thing on my mind. 

Nonetheless, my thoughts are interrupted by the pale white light of my screen revealing a text from Choi Beomgyu, my best friend.

3:48 a.m.

gyu the annoying hyung

are you awake?

i can’t sleep

baehyun

why?

gyu the annoying hyung

just thinking too much. you?

baehyun

homework. are you ok?

gyu the annoying hyung

it’s nothin hyunnie-bunny don’t worry your pretty lil head about it :)

Ignoring the slight flutter of my stomach at the nickname (and the fact he called me pretty), I continue to mull over Beomgyu’s texts. Despite his protests, I can’t help but worry a little bit. Beomgyu is the least sad person I’ve ever met, always full of ear splitting grins and melodious giggles. It’s what makes him so endearing. The warmth of his smile, and the brightness in his eyes, it’s unmatched in its beauty and splendor. I have never met anyone as refreshingly themself. Beomgyu lives as though he has nothing to hide, and no shame to carry.

baehyun

you cannot stop me, i will worry if i want to.

gyu the annoying hyung

well if you’re going to worry anyway, can you at least come over?

please?

I can practically see Beomgyu’s pouty face and puppy eyes through the screen. I sigh almost defeatedly, knowing instantly I’ll never be able to say no to the charming boy.

baehyun

you’re lucky we’re friends

gyu the annoying hyung

love you toooooo <3

I groan lightly as I grab my coat and exit the building. It’s not like his apartment is too far away, only about a 10-minute walk from my own. I quite enjoy the serenity of the streets at 4 am. It’s quiet, save the soft bustling of stray cars, the cool air wafts towards me in light bursts. I take in the city and all its wonders, giving into the quiet mystery.

It should be odd that I gave into Beomgyu’s requests so easily, but truthfully this is just habitual at this point. Even though we’ve only known each other a couple months, we’ve fallen into an easy routine. Friendship with Beomgyu is just that: easy. He makes me feel comfortable

My phone buzzes sharply in my pocket.

gyu the annoying hyung

hurry uppppp >:(

I giggle quietly at his impatience but quicken my pace all the same.

Upon arriving at Beomgyu’s door I only get to knock once before Beomgyu appears before me, grabs my hand, and walks pointedly out the door with me in tow.

“Beomgyu wha-” I try to ask as I’m dragged to the stairs. I’m met with no answer .as we trudge up the narrow stairway to the roof. As we burst through the door, the crisp night air envelops us. Beomgyu calmly walks towards a desolate corner of the wide expanse of roof and motions for me to follow.

“Come stargaze with me,” he says as he lays down to look at the sky. I take my place beside him and stare at the stars. I’ve never been good at astrology but I can spot a few constellations. Andromeda, Orion, and Cassiopeia smile down at me from their perch up in the boundless night. It’s calming, finding the constellations. Knowing each star has a purpose, instead of just being placed in the sky at random. I imagine I’m one of those stars, lost in the infinite infinity of space. I think about how I too will find my constellation, my purpose, my home, and I’m placated by this knowledge. 

Beomgyu and I sit like this for what feels like hours, comfortably silent; aware of each other’s presence without really acknowledging it. This is one of the best things about Beomgyu and me: though we talk consistently, we don’t need to say or do anything to feel comfortable with each other. 

Beomgyu is the first to break our silence. 

“The stars remind me a lot of my soulmate.” I turn my head sharply to face him, ignoring the way my stomach sinks at this news.

“You’ve found your soulmate?” Beomgyu nods quietly.

“Yeah, a long time ago. His name was Zhong Chenle. He loved astronomy and he’d always make me come out to view the stars with him,” Beomgyu smiles slightly at the memory. “I met him when we were kids. He was so bright and energetic, he used to bounce around a lot because he just couldn’t sit still. He made the whole world seem less dull. Not only because I could see colors, but his existence simply made me happier. He was like the sun in my universe. But then-” Beomgyu hesitates, tears falling silently from dejected eyes onto tanned cheeks. I grab his hand and give it a light squeeze, trying my best to let him know that I’m here and it’s okay. He stutters a bit before continuing, “It didn’t happen all at once, but the colors just began fading. First the yellows, then reds, each one dissipated until I was only left with black and white. I tried calling his house for hours but got no response. Finally, his mom called me, in tears, saying that he and his father had been in a car accident. His father sustained a lot of injuries, but Chenle died before they even arrived at the hospital.” Tears are now streaming down Beomgyu’s cheeks. He closes his eyes tightly as if it’s all too much. My thumb rubs soothing circles on the back of his hand.

“The worst part,” he says suddenly. “...is that later I realized his favorite colors were the first to go, as if his soul had died before his body even gave out.” Beomgyu looks at me, and my heart just breaks. He looks so empty. I open my arms for him and he all but jumps into them, burying his head in my chest. I feel his tears soaking through the fabric.

The quiet returns after that, but this time it’s far less comfortable. I try my best to comfort Beomgyu as he sobs into my chest. I feel each light gasp he takes as he struggles for air. His body shakes like a leaf and his fists curl tightly in the fabric of my black sweater.

I eventually hear his breathing steady and I pull away to look at his face. His cheeks shine from leftover tears, but his eyes shine brightly in the dim starlight. A strange warm feeling nestles itself in my chest, and I find myself at a complete loss for words. 

Beomgyu pulls away and returns his gaze to the stars. My mouth opens and closes like a fish as I continue to struggle for words.

“I’m sorry.” I blurt out because it seems like the only fitting thing to say. Beomgyu smiles at me, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes like it usually does.

“It’s okay. I miss him, and I’ll always love him, but I have you now. You make life brighter, despite the greys and blacks. You make me happier than you could ever know.” I look down, hoping he won’t notice the blush on my cheeks.

“You do the same for me you know,” I meet his eyes. “You make me happy too. I’ve never met someone who can make me laugh like you can.” He smiles again, a little wider this time, and it makes my heart flutter.

“Do you miss seeing color?” I ask suddenly.

Beomgyu shakes his head almost immediately. “Not really. Colors were cool and all, but they’re just superficial. I think the world can be beautiful in black and white, you just need to look for the hidden wonder.”

“Did you have a favorite?” Beomgyu chuckles.

“Yellow,” He states simply. But noticing my confusion. “It’s a lighter color, the color of the sun actually. But to me, it means warmth and safety. Yellow is like laughter and smiles with friends or a happy ending. Yellow is simply: happiness and light.” 

I spend the rest of the night pondering Beomgyu’s words. They resonate within me as we return to our comfortable silence. They continue to fill my brain even as I hug Beomgyu goodbye at 5 am, they remain while I walk home, and they’re still bouncing around in my head as I climb into bed back at my apartment.

I’m still thinking them over when I hear my phone buzz on my bedside table.

gyu the annoying hyung

thank you for being here with me. you’re truly a blessing kim taehyun, i hope you know that.

That simply text ignites a new and unfamiliar feeling in my body, one I couldn’t begin to describe. It starts in my toes and gradually moves up until each part of my body is engrossed with this strange new sensation. It wraps my bones in warmth and slithers it’s way into my stomach making butterflies erupt inside of me. It continues to my heart making it beat slightly faster in the best way possible. It fills my lungs with air much fresher than any I’ve ever inhaled. When it finally reaches the top of my head, my body is relishing in this amazing feeling. My senses are alive with wonder and lust and I just keep wanting more and more and more and more. I try and try to think of what this feeling is but all I can think of is: yellow.

TAEGYU PIC OF THE DAY:

The only taegyu pic ever 😌✨

[dramioneficrecommendations]

Hiii I accidentally jumped in dramione fandom, and I'm looking for good stuff for this weekend. Could pls tell me your 5 (or more)favorite dramione fics ever? Thanks!

I hope you like it here and stay with us… forever. LOL (Honestly, we have the best fics and authors in the entire HP fandom.)

Here are some of my all-time favourite Dramione fics (you can also check out my fic rec tag):

Revert by SUPRNTRAL LVR: Six months post-war, Malfoy is in serious trouble. He’s on the run from the Ministry, Death Eaters, and a deadly curse which is eating him alive. When he hits rock bottom, a change in fortune lands him in 12 Grimmauld Place under the Ministry’s custody - and forces Hermione to remember the secrets they’ve both kept for years. Dramione, Sick!Draco, flashbacks to Hogwarts, hurt. Rated: M - Chapters: 24 - Words: 260,266

Manacled by SenLinYu: Harry Potter is dead. In the aftermath of the war, in order to strengthen the might of the magical world, Voldemort enacts a repopulation effort. Hermione Granger has an Order secret locked away in her mind. She is sent as an enslaved surrogate to the High Reeve, to be bred and monitored until it can be accessed. COMPLETE. Rated: M - Chapters: 77 - Words: 384,000

Isolation by Bex-chan: He can’t leave the room. Her room. And it’s all the Order’s fault. Confined to a small space with only the Mudblood for company, something’s going to give. Maybe his sanity. Maybe not. “There,” she spat. “Now your Blood’s filthy too!” DM/HG. PostHBP. Now complete with epilogue. Rated: M - Chapters: 49 - Words: 284,050

Five Days by RavieSnake: No one knows that they are missing. No one knows where they are. No one knows that they are trapped. No one knows that they are dying. Dramione. WINNER for Best Drama/Angst and Best Tragedy in the Winter 2017 Dramione Fanfiction Awards! Rated: M - Chapters: 14 - Words: 32,001

Aurelian by BittyBlueEyes: Two years after the war, a young stranger pays a visit to the burrow. His arrival alone is baffling, but the news he brings of an upcoming war turns the world upside down. Hermione’s quiet, post-war life will never be the same. Rated: T - Chapters: 43 - Words: 270,571

The Politician’s Wife by pir8fancier: Hermione hates Draco in the springtime, Hermione hates Draco in the fall, Hermione hates Draco 247. Rated: M - Chapters: 14 - Words: 68,629

The Revenant by atalanta84: Sometimes fate brings us far from home, and sometimes it brings us back again. When a friend’s mysterious death causes Draco Malfoy to return to Britain, he is finally forced to face his past, and the love he left behind. A story about second chances. Rated: M - Chapters: 10 - Words: 67,866

The Fool, the Emperor, and the Hanged Man by ianthewaiting: Ten years after the fall of the Dark Lord, Hermione Granger leads of life of self-imposed obscurity, that is, until the day Headmistress Minerva McGonagall is murdered and a certain ‘hero’ is responsible. DM/HG, written originally in 2007-2008, and finally making its debut here! AU, DH-EWE, non-canon elements, time travel, character death, etc. Rated: M - Chapters: 28 - Words: 229,334

The Dragon’s Bride by Rizzle: 7th year. Draco & Hermione awaken in a Muggle hotel room, naked, hung-over and tattooed. They also happen to be married. Thus begin a desperate search for a solution to their sticky situation. Rated: M - Chapters: 61 - Words: 225,164

The Eagle’s Nest by HeartOfAspen: COMPLETE: Hermione’s eighth year at Hogwarts is already going to be difficult in the aftermath of the war, but it is further thrown into upheaval when Headmistress McGonagall orders a re-sorting of all students to promote inter-house unity. But when the Sorting Hat sends Hermione to Ravenclaw with Draco - and without Harry or Ron, how will she cope? [AU/Dramione] Prevalent alchemy. Rated: M - Chapters: 70 - Words: 306,322

Thirteenth Night by Nelpher: When Hermione is assigned to keep tabs on a memory-charmed Draco, she is faced with a decision that could change her life forever. Rated: M - Words: 77,997 Chapters: 23

Ordinary People by inadaze22: “Let me be clear about something tonight, Granger. You’re the only woman I’ve ever wanted. It’s always been you.” Draco steps in the fireplace, drops the Floo powder, and disappears in a burst of green flames. Rated: M - Chapters: 18 - Words: 133,759

This, Too, Is Sacred by HeartOfAspen: COMPLETE: An ancient power has required generations of purebloods to pledge their lives to the blood pact. Draco has long known he was born to uphold this tradition… but Hermione’s parents have secrets, hidden details about her heritage, and soon it will be her turn to cast in with fate. [Dramione AU] Fantastic cover art by Witches-Britches. Rated: M - Chapters: 23 - Words: 90,994

Gravity by luckei1: It’s about arranging stacks of books, wall colours, and jumping off a cliff. Draco/Hermione Rated: T - Chapters: 10 - Words: 87,155

Dystopia (new version) by Rizzle: Kidnapped and expecting to be abandoned to his fate, Draco Malfoy writes a personal account of recent life, love and loss after the end of the Second Wizarding War. His story encompasses two unforgivable acts, a wedding, a divorce, a kidnapping and maybe, just maybe…a rescue. Rated: M - Chapters: 15 - Words: 19,885 

A Slow Cruel Descent by SenLinYu: The war grinds on and Hermione Granger is captured. Unable to crack her through interrogation without risking her mind, Voldemort conceives a cruel method of breaking her that involves Draco Malfoy. “He stared at her in disgust. She looked— broken. The fire she’d still had when she was dragged in was now extinguished. Her eyes were locked on his face like she were memorizing him.” Rated: M - Chapters: 2 - Words: 8,687 (Sequel: A Fragile Ascent)

Heavy Lies the Crown by luckei1: For seven years, Draco has carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and just when he thinks he’ll be released, something happens that will make him seek help from the last person he could have imagined. Rated: M - Chapters: 36 - Words: 289,967

To Wear a Dragon’s Skin by creativelymundane: When Bellatrix Lestrange takes control of the wizarding world after the demise of Voldemort, the remnants of the Order keep fighting. Seven years later, Draco brings Hermione a piece of magic that might be the key to finally ending the war. Together they will destroy Bellatrix Lestrange or die trying. Violence, Implicit Rape, Sexual Situations. Rated: M - Chapters: 26 - Words: 137,484

A Pound of Flesh by PennilynNovus: One night at a strip club, Hermione is faced with someone from her past, and an opportunity too good to pass up. What starts as revenge quickly grows into something else, and she may find it to be more than she can handle. Limes, Lemons, M. Rated: NC-17 - Chapters: 33

A Wonderful Caricature of Intimacy by Countess of Abe: Draco loves his son more than anything in the world. So, when his ex-wife plans to take his son away, Draco asks the most unlikely person for help. Hermione must decide whether changing her entire life is worth helping the man she hates unconditionally. Rated: M - Chapters: 25 - Words: 136,998

Apple Pies and Other Amends by ToEatAPeach: “It’s a veritable PTSD tour. With pastries. And hand-skimmed clotted cream. And Hermione has no idea why she’s doing it, but it’s becoming very apparent that she is.” Sometimes you’re sad. Sometimes you need dessert. And sometimes, it’s a little of both. [COMPLETE, DRAMIONE] Rated: M - Chapters: 30 - Words: 80,226

Fairy Stone by Colubrina: Draco is sentenced to one year in Azkaban, release contingent upon someone willing to vouch for his good behavior. Hermione does. “Oh, I want you,” he said. “You, just you, always you. You forever and you for always and you until the bloody sun explodes.” Dramione. COMPLETE. Rated: M - Chapters: 4 - Words: 13,827

The Mountain and The Sea by Alexis.Danaan: Hermione Granger was perfectly happy with her life, her job as a Healer Trainee, her ugly cat and her cute little house in the countryside. And then Draco Malfoy had to go and mess that all up, typical git. Post-Hogwarts, EWE, OOC, creature!fic. 18 Rated: M - Chapters: 12 - Words: 43,464

Celestial Navigation by phlox: Lost, without direction, unable to find your way home? Coming soon, a new Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes Ekeltronic to guide you on your journey! *Your mileage may vary.*Rated: T - Chapters: 3 - Words: 13,640

Waiting Room by Nelpher: A series of encounters with Draco Malfoy in the waiting room at St. Mungo’s teaches Hermione about love, friendship, and the intersection thereof. Rated: T - English Words: 61,418 Chapters: 14

Voices by Kyonomiko: Hermione has long accepted she might not make it through the war alive, but after years on the battlefield, she never expected to be at the mercy of Draco Malfoy. Not untouched by his own experiences, his manic behavior leaves her living in constant fear of the unknown, suffering both affections and afflictions at his hands. Rated: M - Chapters: 3 - Words: 19,724

Friend Number Three by riptey: COMPLETE - How do you deal with the Pureblood aristocracy, Ministry corruption, Muggle culture invasions, and constant questions about your love life while juggling more than two friends and not being a total jerk? Don’t ask Draco: he doesn’t know. D/Hr Rated: T - Chapters: 26 - Words: 138,388

Seven Days In April by inadaze22: They were still the same people with the same problems on either side of a bathroom door. Rated: T - Chapters: 7 - Words: 40,097 

Everything Changes by inadaze22: “Thank you for cheating on me, Ron. It’s the best thing you could’ve done. Thank you for stopping me from making the worst mistake of my life.” My first Dramione story. Rated M for strong language and sexual content. Rated: M - Chapters: 17 - Words: 76,191 

Out of the Silent Planet by ianthe_waiting: Post-Hogwarts - Hermione Granger fulfills Severus Snape’s final wish, to journey to Japan to ‘retrieve’ something of importance. Set eleven years after HBP. Rated: NC-17 - Chapters: 39 - Words: 229,710

Ardent Bonds by Musyc: Maybe it was wrong to think about this, maybe it was horrible to even consider, but if Draco Malfoy liked to dominate, she couldn’t stop herself from picturing it. Picturing him. Rated: E - Words: 16,741 - Chapters: 1

Seven Times by kerriclifford240879: Seven times can mean a lifetime of change. Rated: M - Chapters: 7 - Words: 16,526

[howardpotts]

five: get a taste

Love on the Brain - Masterlist in links

Pairing: MobBoss!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You’re just a student, living her normal daily life in New York. One night changes everything, without you even knowing. Steve Rogers slowly introduces you to his world full of money, drugs and violence. But are you able to handle what he has to offer?

Chapter warning: none :)

A/N: Soooooo, here’s chapter 5 after a loooong time of waiting! Let me know what you think!

“I’m a little surprised that you got into my car after what happened”, he chuckles as you get in. You try to not show anything while getting in, but it felt like you failed miserably. He doesn’t look at you though, as if he wanted to give you that kind of privacy, since he ordered you to only wear the jacket he sent you. 

“I have to admit that I’m not sure why I’m getting in either”, you counter. “I guess I just want you to tear me apart again, but now without all the gang-stuff please.”

As you grab your seatbelt, he turns his head to you. “It won’t happen this time, sweetheart.”

“Promise?”

“Well”, he starts, raising his eyebrows. “I can’t exactly promise anything. But I give it a good eighty percent chance.”

That gives him a low chuckle from your side. It kind of excites you. Which is wrong, of course, but you can’t help it. 

“Nice car, by the way”, you remark. The yellow lamborghini was quite the eyecatcher in your neighborhood - which wasn’t exactly in the best part of the city. 

The old buildings from Brooklyn quickly get replaced by the view of the skyline of Manhattan. The view always amazes you, but especially now - around sunset. All those towers can make any person feel small, but at the same time so powerful. It makes you feel like you have purpose in such a big world.

“Y’know, I was born in Flatbush”, Steve calls. You look at him. He’s from Brooklyn?

“And you left? Why?”, you ask curiously, without even thinking that he’s a potentially dangerous guy you don’t want to ask too many questions. 

“I don’t have anything to live for there”, he simply answers. You can feel he’s holding back, and him biting his upper lip betrays that even more. 

As we drive into Manhattan, he takes some turns, bringing you into China Town. You’re not sure why; but every time you’d enter China Town, you’d get this uneasy feeling. As if you were being watched, but at the same time not watched at all. Even though there wasn’t any reason at all that you’d have to feel that way, no one ever approached you or betrayed you.

Steve took a right turn at the traffic lights, taking the car to the unknown part of China Town - the part you never explored, even though you lived her for a couple of years now. Now you were starting to get really uncomfortable. 

Would he be active in human trafficking? 

Holy shit. That thought scared you. Even though you tried to shake it off, it stuck. Especially when he took another right, getting into a street that was almost dead - apart from some kind of club? 

He stopped right across the street from it, neonlights were flashing  in your eyes. You had to squint to read the sign. ‘Sexclub Spider’. No. This couldn’t- Steve wouldn’t-

Of course he would. Fuck, you’re such a stupid fucking girl to believe that he would take you to a fucking restaurant. You’re so naïve. Even though you felt like you were careful at the times you should be, you somehow decided to give the bad guy your weak spot.

“Here we are”, he smiles, unclicking his belt and opening his door. You look like a deer in headlights. You’re not sure if it’s better to cooperate or to struggle. Maybe if you do as they say, they’ll treat you nicely. But maybe if you put on a fight, you can get away. Run to freedom. Never get in a fucking car with a stranger again. 

A call of your name gets you out of your thoughts. “Are you getting out of the car?” A light chuckle in his voice as he leans down. You nod, too afraid to not do as he says. You open the door and get out, your brain foggy about what is happening.

“I normally come here alone, so I’m sorry if you get a few looks”, he says. You look at him, thoughts still a mile away - looking for a way out of this situation. The sentence doesn’t even fully comprehend in your head.

“Alone?”, you ask. 

“Yes, just like the coffeebar you work at, I’m a regular at Happy’s Place”, he says as he points to something behind you. “And, yeah, before you judge. I know the name is a bit ridiculous, but the food is amazing.”

Slowly you turn around, and a small dark but cosy restaurant comes in your view. There’s this small board with ‘Happy’s Place’ above the wooden windows. 

A sigh of relief leaves your mouth without you noticing it. Your shoulders relax again and your facial expression must have changed too. Again you face Steve, now with a little smile on your face.

“What?”, he asks, a bit dumbfounded. You know what, let’s be honest with him.

“Well, I, uhm”, you say, red slowly showing on your cheeks. “I thought…. Just look across the street.” 

He turns his head around for two seconds before turning it back to you. A big surprised smile is on his face, eyebrows up showing some wrinkles on his forehead. 

“You thought that I’d…? No, I don’t do that shit. Hell, even I have some decency and respect”, he snorts as he walks around the car and puts his hand on your lower back. It’s a sudden reminder for you that you’re not wearing anything but the jacket. 

“Sorry, that was rude of me to think”, you apologize, not wanting to be on the wrong page with him.

“Let’s just enjoy a good meal and get to know each other a little bit”, he says. You nod, and pull on the jacket; feeling a little bit uncomfortable again. 

The waitress was giving us a big smile when we walked in, I automatically smiled back politely and greeted her. 

“Can I take your jackets?”, she asks as she clasps her hands together softly. Your smile almost washes off your face, but you remember quickly enough to keep up your façade. 

Steve gives his leather jacket and then he watches you with the biggest mischievous smirk. “Aren’t you going to give your jacket?”

You clench your teeth together for a split second before shaking your head. “No thanks, I’m okay.”

The waitress leads you to your table. Even though the restaurant is fairly small, it doesn’t feel packed. It’s full, but not crowded. It has this warm family feeling, with several family portraits on the brick walls. Some red curtains and table drapes add to the atmosphere that’s already going on, and the people all seem to have a great time. It feels like one of those ‘almost-too-perfect’ places. 

“Thank you”, you say as Steve helps you get in your chair. Even though you could’ve easily done it yourself, it never fails to flatter you when a man acts like a true gentleman.

Steve wasn’t lying when he told you the food was delicious. You ordered some chicken breast with cheese stuffing, with fries and a salad on the side. Nothing out of the ordinary, but Steve told you that he didn’t need all the fancy stuff. 

It made him feel real, the stuff he did and told. How he took you to some normal restaurant in China Town, instead of trying to impress you with all the fancy restaurants he can afford. How he grew up in Brooklyn but left because he didn’t feel home there. 

“So, I can imagine you’re curious to my business”, he says as he eyes you. 

“Of course, but I don’t expect you to tell me a lot about it. It’s not very legal after all.” You try to get if he’s okay with it. But then again - he opened up the topic. “But, yes, I’m curious.”

“Well, you’re not wrong. I can’t tell a lot about it, but I can maybe feel you a bit at ease. It might help to know that I don’t human traffic - like I said earlier - but I also don’t deal drugs. I’m doing something not a lot of guys can do. In fact, I only have one big rival.”

“Rival? Like, another gang?”, you ask. You’re feeling less afraid now and dare to feel his boundaries.

“Exactly that. We’re not exactly on good terms. It’s actually a lot like every other business; the only difference is that our product is illegal and we use a little bit more violence.” He takes another bite from his beef, giving you time to ask another question.

“Like that guy that broke in last week”, you state.

“Like that guy that broke in last week”, he repeats to confirm your thoughts. 

“But how did you get into this?” You take a sip from your wine, not letting your eyes leave him. You’re way too invested in this conversation.

“That’s a story for me to know, and you to guess, sweetheart”, he says with a wink. You understand the notion of him giving the boundarie you were searching for and decide to be very respectful of it.

“Now that I’ve given you some, you gotta give me something back”, he smirks. “How did you come to live in Bushwick?”

“Well”, you say and clear your throat. “I decided it was time to go live on my own a few years ago. It was such a hell job to find an affordable apartment in New York, but I met Wanda through school and she was also looking for a room or apartment. We decided to look together and then we stumbled upon this little apartment. It’s small, but we’re glad we found something.”

He nods, listening to you as you tell. It’s a bit weird, but the dangerous man he is, is slowly getting to the background. He’s starting to become more of a normal person - maybe someone who could actually be a normal friend of yours.

“And that’s why you work at the café?”

“I need to pay the bills somehow. A lot of sparetime goes into that, to be honest, and a lot of that goes into my apartment. But as soon as I’m done with my study, I hope to find some job that makes life a bit easier”, you give him a little sad smile. 

“So I think now is the fair question to ask: do you really think it’s that weird for me to go illegal? To get myself a nice place in Manhattan, so I don’t have to worry about money.” He doesn’t eat, he doesn’t drink. He just looks at you with wonder on his face.

You’re quiet for a second, collecting your thoughts about that question. Now that you’re getting to know him a bit, he doesn’t seem like a bad guy at all. It kind of makes sense that he just wants money. But then again, there are other ways of getting that money. Maybe not as much, but that’s the price you pay for not ending up behind bars.

“I don’t know”, you say. “There’s always another path.”

“Right. The ‘rightful’ path? You think those politicians came to the top by playing it by the rules? You think Steve Jobs or Mark Zuckerburg got there by following the book? The most succesful people don’t follow the law; they just work in the gray areas. And it’s kind of what I do too; but it’s a bit more to the illegal side.” He takes the fry of his plate, looking at you with fire in his eyes. You’re not sure if it’s passion or anger.

It stays silent for a minute. You’re not sure if you believe what he just said, but you get his trail of thoughts. But you’re not sure if that’s the only thing that got him into that business, otherwise he would’ve told you when you asked the question.

“Now, how about we both slip to the bathroom and I’ll eat you as dessert?”, he smirks as he leans back in his chair. “Didn’t make you wear that jacket for nothin’, my dear.”

________________________

TAGS:

@mcueveryday​ @mschellehitt​ @thamuddagirl​ @buckysthot​ @what-if-i-am-weird​ @myspectacularfantasies​ @ornella0910​ @steeeeverogers​ @babygirl-htx​ @estillion14​ @my-super-musical-life​ @tranquil--heart​ @golddaggers​ @swanlakemikey​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @lollipopdomination​ @profoundllamanickeleggs​

[endless-vall]

I can’t lose you again - part I -  Nostalgia - Dakota x MC fanfic

Summary: Alex returns to Edenbrooks after years of not being there. Everything has changes but stayed exactly the same. She can’t help but seeing Dakota everywhere she goes.

Authors note: After talking with @blue-sappir​ I finally decided to write & post this fic. It’s definitely bittersweet. Read at your own risk 😊

This fic will have two more parts. You can read the next part here.

Hope you enjoy!

Alex stood in front of the entrance to Edenbrook.

She hadn’t been there in years.

Well, she’d visited a couple of times when her mother still worked there, but it’s been a few years since she last stepped foot inside that hospital.

Alex had finished her Oncology fellowship in a different hospital when Edenbrook rang and offered her a job.

All the other benefits they suggested paled in comparison to the memory of Dakota. Of course she was going to take the job there.

Today was her first day. Alex have lived a full life, following every dream she had, making every desicion worth-while, never daring to leave anything to wonder ‘What if?’.

And it’s been a great journey. She had fallen in love a few times. None ever like the other. But her first love, Dakota, will always hold a dear place in her heart.

Edenbrook brought Alex her first grand love story. Maybe it’ll be the place to bring her her second one. The one that’ll she finally settle with.

Taking a deep breath, Alex stepped in. She was met with a familiar face, although she did look older now.

“Harper Emery. We spoke on the phone. You must be Alex?” Harper extended her hand.

“In the flesh.” Alex smiled and shook Harper’s hand.

“Welcome aboard.”

Alex spent her day getting to know the hospital all over again. So much had changed, but there were still many things that remained the same.

She got to know her new patients, her interns, her residants, and everybody on her floor.

Speaking on her floor... Alex passed, for the first time that day, near the room that used to belong to Dakota.

She stopped in her tracks, a familiar feeling washing over her.

‘Hey, teach,’ She could see him now, so clearly, standing next to the hospital room door in his hospital gown with his dorky smile and starstruck eyes.

Alex was about to take a step towards him. Towards Dakota, her Dakota,

When the patient’s room door swung open and a nurse got out of it. Neither her or the patient resembled Dakota, and Alex shook her head in confusion.

Was she just day-dreaming now?

She hadn’t thought of Dakota in a long time, not in that way, but being back in Edenbrook must’ve had it’s affect on her. 

The day progressed, and Alex immersed herself in her work, trying to ignore all the memories washing over her.

Dakota in the cafeteria, enjoying a delicious chocolate pudding cup in the far away table where they first confessed their love for each other.

Dakota in the ER, as the kid who’s filming his friend with a video camera trying to lift his spirits after staying in for so long.

And Dakota... As the patient she loses, shutting off his monitors to give the family some quiet time to say their goodbyes as he breathes his final breath.

Alex gets back to her apartment after a long shift.

She opens a chat she hasn’t opened in some time.

‘Hey guys’ - Alex

‘Yooo how was your first day on the new job???’ - Mateo

‘Probably not so good, considering she’s writing us at midnight after her first day back in Edenbrook.’ - Lennox

‘Oh,’ - Mateo

‘I just really miss him today 😔’ - Alex

‘It’s Dakota-missing-hours for me too. Ever since you told us you were taking that job at Edenbrook I couldn’t stop but thinking about him.’ - Mateo

‘Mateo! Why didn’t you tell us?’ - Alex

‘Because he’s a dork. You both are.’ - Lennox

‘Is it bad-missing-Dakota-hours or good ones?’ - Lennox

‘Both’ - Mateo

‘Both’ - Alex

After that, a video call popped up into Alex’s screen. She quickly answered, seeing a semi-blurry picture of Lennox, and Mateo, each in their own separate screen.

“I don’t usually do this, but c’mon. Let’s talk.” Lennox starts, and the rest of the night passes... Okay.

Alex feels okay again.

“Thanks, you guys,”

The next few weeks fly by. She hasn’t thought of Dakota since that first day.

Well, not more than the occasional thought.

“Excuse me?” An unfamilar voice shakes Alex out of her line of thought.

“Huh?” She looks up from a chart she has been reading and meets a handsome stranger. “Sorry, what did you say?” She sends an apologetic smile at him.

“I said ‘Hi, I’m Dr. Flores, and I’m a surgeon here. I don’t think I’ve seen you around, Dr...” He looks down at her name tag.

“Woods.” They both say together, and Alex gets a little flustered, chuckling along with the friendly surgeon.

“I’m new. Well, kind of.” She notes.

“Well, you should definitely come to Donahue’s after your shift’s over. Everybody will be there.” He winked at her. She heard about that bar. Most of the hospital doctor hung out there after-hours.

“Ahh... I’m not so sure. I haven’t really hitted things off with anyone. I don’t wanna sit around with my colleuges just ‘cause they have to and be bored to death.” She shrugged, trying to get back to her chart but Dr. Flores caught her eye. He had that glint in his eyes, that same one that made her stomach flutter. She couldn’t tear her gaze away just yet.

“Well, I’ll be there. And I’m pretty good at not boring people to death, I’ve been told.”

“Oh, you have?” She raises an eyebrow in an amused tone.

“Yeah! You should ask around. So you’re coming?” He has a confident smile, but a hopeful gaze underneath.

“I’ll think about it.” She promises, and just at that moment he’s getting paged. He shoots her a knowing look before dissapearing into an unknown direction.

Alex looks back to her chart. She couldn’t supress the smile blooming into her lips. She hadn’t felt that flutter in her stomach in a while.

She’d dated since Dakota.

She had a boyfriend in her last year of collage, and most of through medical-school.

And while you shouldn’t compare one love to another... None compared to Dakota.

She always told herself it was because he was her first love, and such a big part of her life.

But Dr. Flores... He reminded her of Dakota. Not in appearance though, but in his dorky-but-confidnet approach and warm personality.

He might break through Alex’s tough exterior.

‘He’s not more good-looking than me, is he though?’ Alex turns around.

She can swear she see’s Dakota there. But just as soon as she sees him, he’s gone.

She must be imagining things, since it’s her 20th hour of the shift, right?

That must be it, she tells herself.

Shaking her head, she finally closes the chart and goes to meet her most recent patient.

She does go to Donahue’s that evening, but decides against going inside last minute. She goes home instead.

It’s the first time in her life she lets herself wonder ‘What if...?’.

But it’s not a ‘What if I went in and chatted with Dr. Flores’.

It’s a ‘What if Dakota was still alive...? What would her life look like?’.

It’s a warm but melancholy feeling. And she can’t shake it off.

After that, she sees him everywhere.

It’s not glimpses anymore. Not quick glances at the cafeteria. Not patients that somewhat resemble him.

No.

It’s her Dakota.

Watching over her, like he promised.

Until one day...

“Dr. Woods! Dr. Woods!” She hears a voice calling. Her whole world is blurry and hazed.

She blinks a couple of times, trying to focus.

Finally, she gets a clearer view.

Is she... Lying on the floor?  Dr. Delarosa is bending next to her, checking her vitals.

“Help is on the way. Stay with me Dr. Woods!”

She wakes up in a hospital bed.

Mateo and Lennox are standing next to her bed. They weren’t around in the last few months, but with her mother gone, they were the next thing to a family she had.

“You really gave us a scare back there.” Mateo joked when Alex finally opened her eyes. 

He was standing right next to her bed, giving her that concerned look of his, and taking one of her hands in his.

“They said you’re going to be fine. That you probably worked yourself too hard but some rest and fluids should do the trick.” Lennox explained. She took Alex’s other hand in hers, but rolled her eyes as if she wasn’t worried too.

Alex saw someone else in her room, too.

Dakota was in the back of the room, leaning on a drawer next to the window.

Alex looked at the figure. He looked just as real as Mateo or Lennox.

“Didn’t they... find anything else? Something out of the ordinary?” Alex asked, a realization downing on her.

Lennox and Mateo exchnaged a puzzled look. “No...?” Lennox raised an eyebrow at her.

“They ran a full check-up. You’re in perfect health.” Mateo added. “According to what the nurse said... Unless you have something specific in mind?” 

“Remember when I said I saw Dakota everywhere I went that first night I got to Edenbrook?” 

“Yeah?” They both answered in the same time.

“Well, maybe I’ve been seeing him around a lot. Like... Not in the ‘I miss him and immerse myself in memories of him’ way.” Alex admitted. 

It’s the first time she admitted it to herself, too.

“In what way then?” Lennox asked in an upset tone, her features growing into a frown.

The three of them probably already know the answer. But just like Alex has been taught in her training to become a doctor. You can’t give vauge answers to your patients. And definitely shouldn’t give vauge answers to your doctors.

You have to say it out loud. So they can process it. Know it’s real.

“I’m... Seeing Dakota right now. He’s over there.” Alex gulps, and points behind them.

Mateo and Lennox both turn around. 

Dakota has a sad smile while he waves at them. When Mateo and Lennox both look back towards Alex, it’s clear they can’t see him.

“I’ll go get the doctor.” Mateo’s smile breaks for the first time. He rushes out of the door.

Lennox stays put in place. Frozen, even.

So Alex looks back at Dakota.

She smiles at him, despite herself.

“Hi... Alex.”

[abloomntime]

A Bloom In Time Ch17 A Maid’s Job

(See if you can spot the Skyrim reference.)

Lemons.

The first thing that he noticed upon fazing through the floor into the kiddo's space ship today was the strong smell of lemons coming from the kitchen. If he had a nose it'd be wrinkled up from the amount of lemon in the air and making him cough if he had lungs still. But instead he just found it annoying as the smell wafted in through the kitchen and the hole in the kid's ceiling. Was someone making a lemon merange pie or too much lemonade? Well he wasn't the only one who found it annoying when the little ankle biters commented on it as well snorting and giving a few coughs as they inhaled the strong smell. This wasn't what he was expecting when he popped in from the forest. He just wanted to see her for a moment and make sure she was ok-.....And totally not because he was worried about her adjusting or that her hand was hurt by any means keeping his mind a float with worry. NOPE! Absolutely not. Strictly business relationship as a boss coming in to see how his newest employee was adjusting to the whole new serving a powerful ghost king. ....And maybe because he wanted to make sure she was actually there and everything that had happened in the last two days was actually real and not a hallucination from hitting his head hard doing that ridiculous crawl. He shivered. That was still an experience he did NOT want to remember or repeat. He would've gotten here sooner but he was a little busy with some very important business last night. He had to reset the trap Poppy triggered, combed through his forest for anyone else lurking around(took a while it was a big forest), making his minions get back to work, looking over the limited plants that actually grew around his forest to make a garden......

Yes. You read that right.

The idea had come to him in that moment during their talk yesterday. What did Poppy love more than anything else in the world? ...Sadly not him- FLOWERS!! She loved plants and growing things, so what better way than to help a new employee settle in than a small welcome to the new 'company'? That and he didn't want to see her anymore upset than needed. SO long after he dropped her off at the kid's ship he went plant hunting. .....Not too surprising that in a dead cursed forest not a lot of things grew there, but he was making due with what was availible. So ordering his minions to dig up some of the small bushes and multicolored mushrooms of all sizes he went. I mean, technically he knew mushrooms weren't a plant, but you try finding something else in a forest where everything else is dead. Needless to say his minions were extremely confused as to why they were running around carefully digging up fungus and what little plants they could find around there.

"Be pecking careful with that! You think stealing shovels was easy?," he yelled at another minion dropping their shovel again. "For peck's sack! I made sure they're small for a reason!''

The minion who dropped their shovel apologised before quickly picking up the mini shovel again before going over to help two other minions of his pushing a large blue mushroom up from the ground. Roots becoming visible as they heave-hoed the large thing up.

"And careful with the roots! They need those to live!''

"Uh, Boss." One free handed minion looked up at the giant ghost who stared down at him just as another one of his comrades ran by holding a small red mushroom towards some unknown location. "Would you remind me why we're digging up all these plants?"

The ghost huffed. "Because I said so and felt like it that's why! Why aren't you getting one of those ridiculously too huge apple bush things like I told you?!"

They looked suddenly nervous. "U-Uh....B-Because you told Two Hundred Four that boss. I'm Eighteen. "

".....Oh. Well you go grab another one!"

"Y-Yes, Sir. Mr. Boss!"

Snatcher scowled as he ran off and sighed shaking his head, but raised his head back over when he heard one of the minions yelp. The minion helping to push up the big blue mushroom was hanging off one edge of it as it teetered and hanging onto it for dear life despite only being three feet in the air. The other two were hopelessly jumping and reaching for him to pull him down.....And Snatcher brought a claw up to facepalm himself just as an explosion went off behind him and another minion went flying before tumbling head over heals in the dirt before face planting a few feet away from the tree. ...They were fine as they sat up and shook the dirt off them as yet another comrade of theirs rushed over to check on them, scolding and yelling something about 'I told you carrying the apple by the wormy guy was a bad idea' or something like that. It was going to take a while to put this thing together with this lot. Which is why he needed to buy himself more time to put this thing together and to keep those kids out before they went blabbing off spoiling his idea to her, he was already a little paranoid about a certain hatted child keeping her mouth shut about a certain little secret of someone's identity. Another reason why he came up here. Maybe he could make some excuse about Poppy needing space from the terrible haunted forest for a while and to just relax. He thought it'd be a good excuse considering how freaked out she looked from the whole exploring adventure, but when he popped up he wasn't expecting lemon to sucker punch him in the face.

"What's with the strong smell?," he asked as the kids yawned and came trudging in through the door that lead to the bedroom but they were a little busy trying not to gag on the smell.

"It wasn't me!," Hattie protested before anyone could ask her.

"I never said it was." He eyed the two for a moment. Bow yawned and wiped at her face tiredly and Hattie looked slightly nervous as if Snatcher would decide it was her spraying whatever powerful perfume this was around, both still in their pjs. "What are you doing up this early?"

"The smell woke us up," Bow yawned as she spoke before giving a few coughs to it. "We thought you were messing with us again."

"Trust me. If I was it'd be something much better tactful than some smell...Wait. You could smell that all the way through your sleeping? You sleep worse than the dead." Hattie blew one of her famous raspberries at him and gave a small pout to his remark, to which he rolled his yellow eyes and turned his attention to the kitchen where it seemed to be coming from directly, and with a zip away from the children the giant ghost went up and over to the double doors of the kitchen area and being a ghost he easily stuck his head straight through the doors without opening it and raised a brow. Nothing out of the ordinary other than a nice clean kitchen, but the lemon smell was there though. As if someone had JUST finished cleaning the place-

"Rumbi?"

He turned around and stuck his head back out through the doors just in time to see the little girl peek under the control panel. "What's got you so up tight now?"

"Rumbi's gone!," she replied worriedly. Hattie leaned back up and went to the other side of the control pamel looking under the buttons and levers but still no tiny robot in sight. The poor girl worriedly looked up to the ghost still halfway through the kitchen doors. "He was right here!" She pointed to the carpeted floors. "He's always right here! Where could he have gone?!" She gave a slightly more worried look and grabbed at her hair. "Did he get stuck in the kitchen again?!"

"Wasn't there when I looked." The small child made a distressed noise and he held up his hands. "Wait up, Kid. Don't say good bye to that head of yours just because the annoying machine is playing a magic trick. He's probably stuck somewhere waiting for someone to help him."

"YEAH!! BUT WHERE?! WHAT IF HE FELL DOWN AND CAN'T GET UP!?"

"That's literally just what I suggested,'' he grumpily muttered to himself but sighed. He didn't like seeing the kiddo any more stressed than the next person so he guessed discussing the plan to secretly busy her with Poppy would have to be put on hold for the time being-....Oh wait. He looked back to the distressed and confused kids and made a clearing his throat noise to get their attention back on him. "As much as I like dramatic fear in the morning, where's Red?"

"Ms. Poppy?" After Snatcher nodded with a grunt, Bow pointed her hand up towards the attic entrance. "In there."

"Why is she in your cruddy attic?"

"She said she wanted to sleep somewhere her size."

Ah. That made sense. He almost forgot how tiny the some of the ship's areas were actually. Of course he could get around no problem getting around ghosting through walls, but he guessed Poppy would have a harder time having to crawl through the child sized tunnels to get anywhere on this blasted ship. Ignoring whatever Hattie was yapping about Rumbi to them, he gave the attic a suspicious look and slowly made his way towards it. It certainly was quiet up there, besides a rather peculiar noise he rose a brow too. With a hum he floated his way over towards it and just popped his head right on in and......Oh...OH! Well at least he found the source of the lemon scented cleaning products, and ..Huh. Was it just him or did the attic look less dusty that it usually was? Hoisting himself the rest of the way up through the whole he managed to spy two small pink glowing objects in the dark, those said objects turned back around away from him as the small vacum cleaning turned away from him to start sweeping back up the long orange carpet stuck up here making that light sweeping sound as he went. Well at least he knew what was making the strange sound up here, but it was the sight of the lightly snoring woman on the floor that really caught his attention as his brows rose. The redhead was laying on the floor snoring away obviously passed out, but was surrounded by cleaning supplies. A small broom, mop here, a bucket there, and a few things of soap. Well.....This explained a whole bunch of things actually, Poppy must've cleaned up a little bit. He thought he remembered her saying something about being a light sleeper when he was still alive. The ghost floated over her and stared down at her current state of being. Body lightly going up and down in her sleep. Her body curled up to her right side and holding a pillow to her chest. Poppy looked rather peaceful in her sleeping state which made him not want to disturb her at all...Which what he was exactly going to do.

A claw gently moved the messy hair of flames away from her soft face and paused when she lightly hummed and stirred, but not too much as she relaxed back into the same position just a second later. She didn't wake to see the fanged smile or the softened eyes of the spirit watching her or hear him give a small huff of a chuckle at the dare say cute sight before turning his attention back towards the exit just as a small vacum cleaner was starting to slowly go by. The small robot beeped in surprise when he was just picked up by a giant purple hand and carried through the air towards the exit by the ghostly figure giving off a few curious beeps to it all. A moment later the ghost's head shoved itself outside the hole in the roof just as the platform elevatoring between the levels went down and out came most of his body. Being a large ghost he easily was able to go near the floor but still have some of his body stuck partially through the ceiling as he held up the robot with a questioning look.

"Looking for this, Kiddo?," he asked holding the blinking robot.

"RUMBI!!" A feeling of releif washed over the child as she raced up and over to the ramp towards him as he held him out to her. The corner of his mouth in a semi smile as he watched her smile and grab Rumbi from him, hugging the sweeper to herself in a hug and sighing. "I missed you! What were you doing up there?"

"PLeaSE clEAN OuT Dirt filterS. MASS capaSITY MaKeS it UNCoMFORTABLE fOr mE," was his only answer in that robotic voice of his.

"I think he's saying to dump out the dirt he swept up," Snatcher clarified gazing at her as Hattie happily nodded and looked happily at the robot in her arms practically skipping to the kitchen to presumably dump out his filters into the kitchen trashcan.

"Actually that's a good question." Bow was gazing up to where the platform was rising fazing through his body and such with curiousity on her face. "How did he get in the attic? Did he accidentally ride up there?" She asked gesturing to the platform. "And where is Ms. Poppy? Is she still asleep?"

"Yeesh. So many questions and it's only been fifthteen minutes since I got here." He rolled his yellow eyes at the curly haired girl's light frown. "She's still asleep. Just leave her alone until she wakes on her own. I think she deserves it after dealing with everything don't you think?"

Bow shrugged and walked off in the same direction towards the kitchen as well presumably for breakfast he guessed or to see what her friend was doing in there. Fine by him. He could wait for as much as he needed. There was books up there to keep him occupied for a while.

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

Someone stirred.

Probably shouldn't have fallen asleep on the cold hard floor but she was so tired by the end of her little adventure between the two rooms that she zoned out almost immediately afterwards. Not a good idea to stay up so late just to clean up but she couldn't fall asleep no matter how hard she tried and she wasn't about to go sleeping in some dark room that looked and smelled like an old closet no one used for like ten years, so it gave her one job to do anyways. She doubted the children would mind or notice one or two rooms cleaned anyways. Children in her experience didn't usually didn't. But something felt oddly unsettling somehow. A shiver running up the spine and odd feeling settling in the stomach kind of deal. The one watching her saw the shiver along with the stirring and had looked up from his book right above her, his full attention right on her now. ......Poppy gave off a cough. Probably due to the strong-ish smell still in the air. It had lessened a lot during the hour and a half she remained asleep while everyone else was awake but it was still enough to be noticable. Her face noticably cringed before groaning and slowly pushing her aching muscles to sit her top half of her body up, pillow she was previously holding onto flopping to the ground as the hand that held it made it's way up to rub at her face as she yawned and stretched out her back.

"Hey, you." Poppy literally jumped falling back onto her with a gasp of surprise. Knocking over the metal bucket close to her foot which tumbled over with a few metal clangs and those bright blue eyes of hers snapped open blinking into the darkness and her brain trying to register the dark figure of the ghost floating and giving her a neutral look. When in reality he was chuckling internally. "So you're finally awake."

It took a while for the still tired woman to really recognize who exactly the blurry black figure was talking to her. Which involved more yawning, more blinking, more rubbing at her face, and more silently staring at him before the idea of who he is finally came to her in the form of the the dark purple ghost.

"......Snatcher?"

"The one and only. Took you long enough to wake up."

"Wait. Were you watching me sleep?," she asked awake-ness finally starting to slowly over come her body.

"Like I'd do that." He held up the red book he was currently holding. The cover reading 'How Black Holes Are Formed And How To Avoid One.' "I've been sitting here reading waiting for you to finally get up," he answered truthfully. He had been reading, only looking at her every so often.

"Really? What ever for? Seems a bit rude to just spook someone like this if ya ask me." That pout he knew all too well when something annoyed her graced her face as she made herself stand to those tired legs of hers.

"I have a job for you."

"Oh really? How lovely. And what might that be?"

"I see you've been rather busy yourself." He pointed a claw down at all the cleaning tools and the open box of cleaning wipes. "And rearranging your living space quite a bit." His eyes flicked up and over towards the far side of the attic. All the crates, barrels, and chained trunks were all moved over to one corner of the room along with the globe and useless telescope. But it seemed everything was rather clean. "And I take it you're responsible for the strong smell everywhere."

......She looked sheepish for a moment, momentarily gazing at her hands. "I-I'm sorry. The soap was pretty strong s-so I orginally only used a few drops in the mop water but when I was mopping the kitchen I accidentally knocked the bottle over and spilt a lot of it everywhere. I-I'm sorry if I caused any trouble with it. I made sure to clean all of it up I promise." She then glanced behind her. "A-And if me moving everything was wrong I'll gladly put everything back. It was just so dusty I couldn't breath a single breath without sneezing from the dust bunnies-"

She stopped when Snatcher held up a hand to stop her rant. "Don't apologize. The old place never looked better. Did you really stay up all night cleaning here and that kitchen?"

She sheepishly nodded having been called out by the ghost. "Um...Y-Yeah. T-This may sound strange, b-but when I can't sleep I clean. Growing up in a house of farming folk, there was plenty of dirt scattered about so I often helped to clean it all up."

A hum came from him. Of course he already knew this but decided not to comment on it. "I see....Well I don't want you staying up so late again. Next time try my advice and read a book. I used to do it and it did wonders for me."

"Oh. Y-Yeah right. I just thought it'd be rude to leave the kitchen like that with a sink of dirty dishes from that cat's cookin."

He paused for a moment. ".....Oh. So the cat showed up again. Did you meet her?"

She nodded and smiled happily at the memory. "Yes. Cookie was so kind and she was kind enough to show me a few places. And gave me food! OH MY PECK!! Her food was to die for!....Uh n-no offense."

"None taken. But getting back to it, I said I have a job for you today." He closed the book and let go of it leaving it to float in mid air before it flew back over to the neat stack of what few books were up here. Poppy watched in slight amazement but was quick to snap back to the ghost when he spoke again. "I'm going to be very busy for the next few days. I think I found a way that might help you out even if it only brings a little piece of mind, but I'll need some time to prepare it. And I can't have you running around blindly everywhere while I'm trying to figure it out. You understand that I hope, and if I'm going to help you then you can help me."......He gave a softer look. "I don't mean to sound rude. But I can't have freeloaders taking up space here you know." Actually it was because he needed her to be busy, if he didn't he'd have no problem with just letting her stay here laying about all day if that's what she wanted to do. But he couldn't. He needed her and the kids occupied for a while and the plan he's been cooking up for the past hour and a half was just the ticket to do it.

Poppy nodded understandably thank goodness. "I understand. Where I'm from you had to earn your keep where ever you were stayin', and it's only fair after you're going through all that trouble." Her hands rested to her hips as she gave a smile.

He huffed a chuckle and gave a smile back of his own. Oh he could almost hear her say 'Hey, Princey!' like back in the old days with the same smile. But he smiled at her and pointed a hand to the cleaning supplies scattered at her feet. "Well, since I thought you did an excellent job here and you obviously have had previous experience, I thought we'd do something easy on your first day on the job! I want you to go around cleaning the entirety of this rusty space craft!"

....Her smile dropped a little as she stared at him and blinked. "...Wait a gosh darn pecking second." She pointed a hand at him. "You want ME to clean the entire ship?" She asked pointing to herself.

He smiled. "You didn't hear me wrong. But to answer you. Yes."

"HA! You gotta be kiddin' me! You want me to clean the entire place? By myself?"

He nodded calmly as if they were just talking about books or something like that. "Yep! Every room, hall, nook and cranny, mop, sweep, dust-...The whole work! I don't doubt you could do it. And you wouldn't be doing it yourself. Those two are more than capable of helping you out if I tell them too. "

She stared at him flabbergasted. Opening her mouth to speak but nothing came out so she closed it and shook her head before frowning and seeming to find her words. "Are you just having me do a maid's work because I'm a woman?"

He frowned back with an honest voice. "No. I'm asking you to do this because I'd like any kids of mine to have a clean place to live. And like I said, It's going to be hard to manage them and my forest while I'm going out of my way to help you. This isn't exactly a-an easy thing for me to do for someone like you you know." The sincerity in his voice as she stared at him for a little while longer made most of that scowl melt away from her face. "Besides. It'd be more of a win for you won't it? You get to navigate the place, keep yourself occupied while I'm stressing over planning for YOU might I add, and it's a chance to get to know your host family." He shrugged. "Everyone wins. You get help. I get help. Kids get a clean place. There's no downsides.....Unless you spill more of that soap stuff."

She snorted on that last bit shaking her head with a smile. "Trust me. I think I'll stay away from that stuff for a while." She turned and began walking towards one of the large dressers near the far side of the room with the small pile of books stacked ontop of it. Next to the books was a pile of photos, drawn pictures, and a teddy bear. "Just give me a second to grab a few things."

"Sure. Take your time with that. By the way..." Those yellow eyes glanced down towards her hand, the soreness long gone by now and only a light bruise remaining on it. "How's your hand? From what I've heard it was hard for you to manage yesterday. And while I'm at it I suppose I should know what the kid's robot was doing up here, she had quite the small panic attack."

"That's a bunch of questions thrown at me at once don't ya think?"

"Hey. Im returning the favor for what happened to me earlier."

"Those girls?" He hummed a yes behind her and she smiled. Children could throw a lot of questions at you if they were curious enough. So to answer one on his questions, she held up the wrist with the very light bruise as she stopped in front of the dresser and began to grab the many photos and pictures. Slipping them into her leather apron's bigger pocket, she had slipped it on last night to help carry around the smaller things she brought around to clean. "It feels much better thank you. I guess I just needed to let my arm rest a while, and ..well...I figured I'd use the little fella to sweep up the dust from the thing since that's what he was for..R-Right?"

He glanced back down to the orange carpet as she grabbed the small teddy bear, and had to admit it did look a much lighter orange when it wasn't covered in dust. "Alright. But next time be sure to notify the kid. She sees that thing as a beloved pet and I don't think she appreciates him disappearing without a trace...What's all that?" He gestured to the toy she was holding.

"Oh. I found this and a few things in the ward robe over there and thought she might've lost them." She gave a small shiver, "B-But I don't think the skulls in there were a very nice find."

"Hey! I gave those as a mushy Winter Solstice Token to them! They should be grateful! It's not every person in space owns they're own cursed skulls to ward off harmful spirits! The attic was a great place to put them to keep ghosts out! Most love to haunt creepy dusty attics so I was doing them both a huge favor!"

"Wow. I guess you really are an expert huh?," she asked as she made her way towards the lift just as it started to rise up again towards them.

"Hey. It takes one to know one don't you think? And who better than the most powerful spirit on this measly planet?"

She still smiled and rolled her eyes at him. For some reason she was getting an aura of bragging child. "Ok. I guess you're right. But It's best I return these to her."

The her she was referring to was obviously Hattie cuz who else would have the idea to leave photos and pictures in a haunted ward robe he supposed...That or her face was in some of the pictures she was holding so it was a dead give away. She stepped onto the platform as soon as it came up and he floated behind as she did so, wobbling a little as she started to descend but managed to push herself back up into a standing position as Snatcher just fazed through the attic floor and popped through the control room ceiling and wouldn't you know it. He found the girls exactly where he thought they'd been for the past hour and a half. Watching cartoons early in the morning waiting for that cat's cooking show to come on, Right now sait orange calico was talking about something involving how to properly cook spices for a veggie burrito or something. I dunno. He wasn't exactly an expert in cooking and outside of reading a thin cooking book like once a long time ago out of sheer boredom he had no experience in that stuff. But both girls looked up when a flash of messy red caught their attention (obviously Poppy's hair) and smiled when they looked up and saw the two standing there. Rumbi happily sweeping past them back down the ramp towards the tv before the platform touched the ground and Poppy stepped off it. Giving off a shaky sigh and looking back up towards it as it ascended, she never would get used to that was she?

"Hi, Ms. Poppy. Good morning!" Bow happily waved from her pillow on the floor as Hattie turned back to the tv with a smile. "Why do you have a teddy bear?"

She waved back to the small child smiling. "It's just something I found in the attic I thought might belong to someone. And you don't have to call me Miss. Just Poppy will be fine." She made her way down the small ramp as Snatcher flew over the railing. Stopping by the tv she stared at Hattie who looked up at her feeling the eyes on her and Poppy kneeled down to her level to hold out the teddy bear. "Hey. I think this belongs to you."

"Yeah!" Hattie reached out a hand smiling and grabbed the toy from the older woman. "Thanks!"

"Uh huh. I think I found some other things of yours." Tilting her head Hattie watched as Poppy began pulling the pictures and drawn pictures of hers from her apron's pocket and she happily started grabbing them from her as well. "Did you do these?"

She nodded looking through all of them and still grabbing them one after another as she handed them out and looked at them all. "I took them on my first space adventure. She held up one picture with what looked like her outside a ship in space. "This is me!"

Poppy of course smiled at her happiness. "I'm really happy for you, but maybe don't leave all your things in random spots. Ok?"

He nodded not really paying attention to what she said but she sure did look up when Snatcher cleared his throat and caught the attention of both the children. "Now that I have you attention. Guess what you two are doing today?"

"Going exploring."

"Not even close." He pointed at them with a stern face. "You two are going to help her clean up this dump!" Instantly the girls went to whine but he shot that down real quick as he had to multiple times before. "Hey! You two live here too! So you ARE going to pitch in and lend her a hand! I won't hear any excuses! Besides, don't you think it's unfair if SHE did all the work while you two goofed off." Hattie stuck her tongue out at him and he narrowed his eyes at her. "Ok wise guy. I know you're perfectly capable of beating a maniac blondie who gained control of all time and space for a couple hours, so you're MORE than capable of cleaning the place-"

"How about we play a game first?," Poppy suggested with a smile and all three looked to her.

"A game?!" Hattie's smile came back at the prospect of playing instead of doing any boring cleaning.

"Playtime? Now? Are you sure you're feeling ok?," Snatcher asked doubtful but Poppy held up a hand.

"Cookie told me yesterday about how helpful you two are," she answered truthfully, "But I was wondering if she was telling me the truth about you two being able to help anyone."

"Of course we can!" Hattie puffed put in pride and Bow nodded eargerly beside her. "We're the best helpers in the world!"

Faking curiousity hummed and rubbed her chin, "Oh really?...Hm. I don't think I believe you."

"What?!" The hatted child stomped her boot down and scowled. "Yes we are! We can do anything!"

"Oh really?"

"YEAH!! And we'll prove it too!" Bow again nodded with the same scowl.

Poppy smiled and nodded her head. "Ok. If you two really want to prove yourselves and make me believe you I guess I have no choice but letting you help me play my game."

"That's right! You don't have any choice!.......Uh. What game?"

Poppy's smile widened as she stood up. "Why the helping game of course. I use to play it all the time when I was little. I challenge you two to a competition. If you can help me real good, then I'll believe you and you get a nice reward from your daddy."

"A reward!?," Bow asked lighting up immediately and snatcher's eyes widened.

"Hey! Whoa! I never agreed to thi-"

"YES! A nice reward from him! But you two have to win the game and beat me or else I'll get that nice big reward from him instead. And you don't want to lose do you?," her sly smile sent a challenging feeling run through the children. "Deal?"

"DEAL!! BUT WHEN WE WIN I WANT A MOUNTAIN OF COOKIES AS A REWARD!!," Hattie demanded. "ILL BE THE BEST HELPER EVER!!"

"ME TOO!! I WANNA HELP!!......Um..How do we help?"

Poppy smiled again waiting for this to happen. "You both can help by proving to me you really can clean a few TINY things for me. We'll make it a challenge. You two both get one room, I'll get one, and then your daddy can be the judge and pick which one's the best."

"Like with Conductor and DJ Grooves movies!," Bow exclaimed excitedly. "I'm gonna win!"

"NO! IM GONNA WIN!," Hattie shot back and Bow frowned at her.

"Oh yeah!"

"Yeah!"

"Fine by me. Tell you what. "Poppy gently pried the girls apart. "Why don't you each pick a different room instead of doing the same one? It'll be faster and that way you each can be judged fairly." She looked to Hattie still clutching all the pictures close to her. "Since Im guessing you might want to put those away, why don't you go do your bed room?"

"Fine! But I get Rumbi!" Her head snapped to the small robot sweeping past her. "COME ON RUMBI!! I'M GONNA WIN!!" The small machine beeped and fastly swept after the young girl as she ran towards the entrance to her bedroom somehow NOT dropping the multiple things she was carrying at the moment.

"FINE! I want the Metro Room!"

Snatcher's jaw had affectedly dropped by then and could only watch as bow ran off in the direction of the storage room and Poppy smiled, stood, wiped her hands together, before placing them on her hips and giving the ghost a winner's grin as he continued to stare off in the direction of the two children....Before looking to her jaw snapping shut as she chuckled at his face and he sputtered before demanding something of her.

"How the PECK did you do that!? And so EASILY!?"

She shrugged. "Well. Instead of fighting and making them do it, why not make it into a game they could enjoy. Hope you can get that reward ready."

"Oh ha ha! Very funny! Don't you think I'll be sticking around for this. I got business to attend yo you know."

"I thought you might say that. And I understand. Just be sure to have it when you come back." She snorted again at his surprised expression and he frowned more.

"Well don't you forget your job for now either!," he demanded crossing his arms.

"I didn't forget nothin', yo purple onion."

"Oh really?" She nodded and he smirked. Before pointing a claw straight up. "Hate to catch you in a lie, Princess, but didn't you already forget the things you need to do the job up there?"

Poppy stared at him for a moment be fore blinking and snapped back up towards the attic. Oh gosh golly she forgot all the stuff up there! She hurried off up the ramp to catch the platform before it could rise back up without her and Snatcher snickered to himself. It was a shame he couldn't stay and watch how this went down, he'd absolutely would SO watch but unfortunately he had to get back and work. As someone had to direct those chumps on how to work things. But he was sure of one thing. This would absolutely keep her busy for a while. Which is EXACTLY what he planned on.

[werezmastarbucks]

Whitmore Guy is somebody you used to know

Whitmore Guy masterlist

word count: 1657

music: werld is mine by raleigh ritchie, quit by lil aaron

That night was brief, dark, and she didn’t sleep well. As she left the guest room before going to sleep, she heard voices in the living room downstairs. Coming back to her door, she spotted Mal who was standing in the next doorframe, holding on to the handle, and watched her silently. He gave her a little wave with his face expressing nothing.

“Good night”, he said. She blinked and went inside, locked her door and kept looking at it until she fell asleep. Mal, standing ten steps away from her, in the dark corridor, watching her, watching her when she didn’t realize he was, followed her into her dreams.

 _________________________________

Every morning he stood at the mirror and looked at himself, and admired. Freedom suited him. Being unknown freshened his attitude. Nobody hunted him, nobody looked at him like at a parasite. People really stopped noticing, at some point, the way they looked at him, and just went on with their condescending hatred, sitting there on their high horses, judging him day and night. Now, they looked at him and only saw what he wanted them to see, and that was the best gift he ever got in his life. Every morning he looked in the mirror, excited, and tried to guess what nice things he’d hear. Mal, you look good today. Great idea, Mal, you rule. Mal, what would I do without you?

The only thing that didn’t change was the way she looked at him. He admired himself even more for that, for striking that perfect balance and still having it, ah, screw this, he admired them both. Her, for being true to him even though she didn’t know she’s being loyal. And himself, for still being him –

“Kai Parker”, he said to his mirror every morning, and as he watched the mouth move together with the words he heard, it reassured him. He did it every day like a prayer, so that he himself wouldn’t forget. After everything he’s been through, reminding himself who he was seemed like a logical precaution. He couldn’t imagine staying Mal Osbourne forever. Having an apartment that’s in one place, having insurance and a job – that mortified him. All these things that settle you as a human – ew, scary. Pretending to be human was only as good as the food he could get.

What if that what it took though? As he looked at himself in the mirror that morning, standing in one of the Salvatore’s many bathrooms, he was listening to the house. It was seven in the morning, and he never needed more than three hours of sleep anymore. Sometimes even less. He was just so full of energy ever since he came back. His walking battery was at a hand’s reach. She was still asleep next door, and he could hear her erratic, restless breathing. Might as well peep inside and give her better dreams before going to work. Bon Bon is having an unhappy breakfast downstairs and clings her spoon on the walls of the cup every time. She always clings her spoon on the walls of her cups, and it drives Kai crazy. Frankly, back when they were in the prison world, there was a point at which he asked himself whether there was a time loop and Bonnie Bennett entered his realm when he was a kid and drove him crazy by clinging a spoon against the walls of her tea cup.

Salvatore brothers created constant humming talking in the library in their low voices. Elena was making coffee, and the delicious smell of it crawled down the carpets and penetrated under the doors, making him agitated. Kai and Mal, they both loved a good cup of coffee, although Y/N, both past and present, said it was bad for him because he’s naturally hyperactive. It’s funny how Damon achieved nothing by throwing him into oblivion. He was still the same, only with a different name. She still loved him the same, the same happy flickering in her eyes, from the second she saw him. She said all the same things as before, and it was so easy, so obvious that they were meant for each other it was laughable.

Kai has reached the point at which he thought she’d go with anything he does. Normal people don’t do it. Normal people? They caught him, tied him down, stripped him of his magic and pushed him out of existence.

She wasn’t normal, and she was his.

Caroline said her goodbyes and slammed the door like the psycho she was.

Kai stopped himself. Is he thinking about them with adoration? In an ah, these idiots doing their morning shenanigans and I know them so well way?

He gave himself a frown in the mirror and then couldn’t stop himself from smiling. The only adorable thing here was this young man. Who’s going to work right now, but before, he has to take care of his girlfriend’s nightmares.

He cracked the door open, putting on the cloak of invisibility just in case – house was still full of vampires. Stepping to her bed, he recalled how she tried to call him out yesterday: you were watching me sleep.

Honey, I was doing so much more, he thought.

He kneeled down before the bed and touched her forehead carefully, sucking a bit of magic from her, and returning it straight back with a chant. Touching her was the means to read her mind, and he took a peek of what she was seeing in her bleak dreams. Ever since he went away all the memories of her father got distorted. She lacked what she needed, to be restful about his death. Kai Parker wasn’t in her mind, and consequently, the idea of apathy and peace knowing that he took care of everything was absent, too. Every time he thought about it, about Damon mutilating her mind like that, he got angry.

She sighed deeply, and Kai crept out of the room, closing the door and forgetting to lock it again. He was thinking about coffee.

“Smells so-o good”, he crashed the quiet conversation Elena and Bonnie were having as he entered the kitchen. He put his elbows on the counter, eyeing both girls and thinking about how he would dismember them both right here on the table. Okay, they seemed relatively okay when they weren’t in front of his eyes. Every time he looked into Bon Bon’s eyes, all he could think of was how she stole all his magic and watched as Salvatore dicks were dragging him across the cave to the pit.

“Can I have some, too?”

“Sorry, I’m almost running late. It’s on”, Elena said, and gave Bonnie a look they both thought he didn’t notice.

“What kind of coffee is it?” he asked, circling the counter and watching the coffee pot over Elena’s shoulder. She stepped away, uncomfortable.

“The ordinary…”

“Why are you up so early?” Bonnie demanded. She looked at him bravely, her voice loud and clear. Kai looked at her innocently.

“Bad at sleeping. Really, really bad. I barely sleep, ever, I’m like an anxiety machine”.

He grinned.

“Worried about all those bodies?” she asked coldly. Elena stepped away even more and grabbed on the table, watching them both. Kai sighed, crossing his arms.

“Well, as you know, I’m not huge on empathy… I mean, I’m sure those people were nice and all”. He shrugged.

“All I care about is Y/N to be honest”.

“What happened to Martha Hopps?”

“She’s dead. I’ve moved on”.

He took a big mug off the hanger and started making himself coffee.

“In two weeks?” Bonnie went on. He wasn’t looking at her, hiding a wicked grin. Why couldn’t he ever stop smiling when he interacted with them? It was always so funny. He was afraid he’d start laughing one day and completely blow it.

“Yeah. Her death was so violent, it traumatized me big time, and I kind of disassociated”.

He heard all these words from Y/N in the past life and learned to apply them.

“And Y/N’s still alive, and her ex-crush seems to go round killing everybody, so…”

“Why are you so sure it’s Damon?” Elena asked.

Kai gave her his most serious look.

“I know you’re friends. But take this from a person who’s unbiased: Damon is a violent, unpredictable, cruel perso- vampire. You know he’s done something to Y/N back in November, right?”

He turned to the witch, too, waiting until his words sunk in.

“What do you mean?”

He scratched the tip of his nose.

“She’s certain he’s done something and then took her memories away. She says she’s been feeling very weird for the past seven months”.

He shrugged again like it didn’t matter to him.

“I don’t know, he just seems super freaky, that’s all I’m saying”.

Elena rolled her eyes.

“The only freaky person here is you”, Bonnie snarled. She stopped moving her spoon, and Kai exhaled, relieved.

“You show up out of nowhere and follow her around. And I know you lurk on her, Mal. I’m a witch and I know things”.

“I know you know”.

“And? You wanna explain?”

He cocked his head and took his mug from the counter.

“Nah. I’m not the person you should be concerned about. There’s a killer among you. And it’s not me. Soon your town will be on the lockdown because he kills people in packs. And you worry about me being obsessive over a girl who’s into it”.

Elena’s eyes widened. He smiled.

“She came in on us yesterday”.

Bonnie’s eyes darted to her friend. Elena bit her lip and nodded shortly.

He started gulping his coffee under Bennett’s testing sight.

“Freak”, she said under his breath, and his mood changed to worse. There was no way he’d ever win this one over. He’d better kill her off and stop worrying about it once and for all.