#like oh hello strangers and friends i just poured my heart out onto a page and now i'm offering it up with shaking hands

[johnslittlespoon]

it's almost time. when? idk, when i stop being a coward LOL

[agayobsessedwithmurder]

Small town boy

runaway!mike au

inspired by @lilithisamess

The wheelers household, 1987

"Mom! it's Wills birthday! i have to go, dustin and lucas are busy this weekend and he can't be alone!" Mike yelled, standing up from his kitchen table.

"maybe you should have thought about that before joining that demonic cult." Ted argued.

Cult? are you serious dad?

"Mike, I know your bestfriend's and girlfriend's moving away really upset you but you can't keep acting out and expecting no punishment in return. Nancy's boyfriend moved away but shes still attending college, and not failing every class and skipping school." Karen scolded him.

Of course, bring up how nancy is better than me in every fucking way.

"You cannot talk about no punishment in return mom! i know what you did, or more like who you were doing!" Mike yelled catching everyone by surprise, but Ted was oblivious so just took a bite of the rotisserie chicken.

"Michael Wheeler! go to your room. NOW!" Karen screamed and made him flinch a little.

He started walking towards his room but hesitated to hear what they had to say.

"You should just tell him he shouldn't be seeing that boy, i never thought we would get rid of him. I tell ya he was changing mike, making him go through that phase." Ted said, not knowing mike was in hearing distance.

Thunder struck the outside of the house, just as Mike ran up his stairs. Once he got into his room he slammed the door shut and sat on his new queen sized bed in replace of his bunk bed he had whenever will would stay over.

Mike grabbed the binder of Wills drawings and opened up to a random one. He started flipping through the pages, tears falling down from his pale skin onto the artwork.

Shouldn't i be missing El alot more than Will? Shouldn't I still be mad at him for calling El st- no. i can't be mad at him. He's too precious, plus he was being ignored and it was the heat of the momment so i guess he had a reason to lash out.

I can't believe i can't see him on his birthday. hes going to be fifteen! Nancy can see Jonathan whenever she wants, it's not fair.

wait? Nancy seeing jonathan isn't like me seeing will right? because they are dating, me and will are just friends. yeah, friends. i need to stop overthinking my own thoughts.

I need to see him, but mom won't change her mind. Nancy wont drive me there.

wait. that bus stop! it goes to California!

Mike smiled, not bothering to wipe the tears that were stained on his cheeks and ran to his dresser. Mike grabbed a sweater that was always Wills favorite and grabbed some socks and converse shoes.

He put the socks and shoes on and grabbed his bookbag and put the binder in there, and a walkie talkie, and a red and orange colored wrapped present along with a picture on his nightstand.

a picture in two pieces held together by a piece of see through tape. a picture of the party on the Halloween mike told will they would go crazy together.

without really thinking he put the backpack on and opened up his window and felt the rain and cold air hit his face.

He held on tight to his window sill and moved his legs to the point were hes dangling from his window.

Mike jumped down onto the smaller roof and closed his window from there. Then he sat down, ignoring the rain pouring onto his body, and then jumped down onto the sidewalk.

He kind of was surprised it was that easy. He then walked to the garage and tried to open it but it wouldn't budge. "Shit." He cursed but decided he didn't need his bike, he could walk.

He started running down the street until he got to a certain distance. He pulled out the walkie talkie and set it to a certain channel.

"Lucas, dustin? do you copy?"

static.

"Lucas and Dustin do you fucking copy?" Mike screamed as he kept walking.

"Oh my god what is it! im hanging out with max." Lucas said through the walkie talkie.

"Okay, I'm going to be gone for a little bit, tell dustin, and max i guess that im safe. make sure my parents know too, but do NOT tell the cops I'm calling you. I just need to see someone, but i promise im safe so don't let my family freak out too much, or atleast nancy. Okay thank you, bye!" Mike carefully explained and turned off the walkie talkie and put it back in his backpack.

And with that, mike started walking.

Mike finally reached the bus stop just as the bus was getting there.

literal, great timing.

The bus' doors opened and he walked in, the rain dripping onto the bus steps. He said nothing but continue walking and sat down in a seat across from this old, sweet looking woman.

Mike looked down at the bookbag he took off and put in his lap.

I wonder how Will is going to react when im there. Do you think he's going to hate me? who am i even talking to? oh god i hope he doesn't think im fucking crazy. i just, i haven't missed one of his birthdays yet. im not going to let that happen, ever. I know friends grow apart but, but Wills diffrent. Me and him, we are different. On August 27th we will have been friends for ten years. I can't, i can't lose him. I wonder if he was kidding when he said he would run away with me to California, or a warm state. We did promise to do that, anyway. But we promised alot of things. Like that we would never have girlfriends. But I can't talk, i do have a girlfriend. speaking of el, I haven't heard from her in weeks. I should probably talk to her.

His thoughts got cut off by that sweet old woman. She was wearing a green cardigan with mushrooms on the bottom and a long brown skirt and a heart necklace with a rose on it. She had white long hair captured in a low bun and a leather bag that was open that showed a knitted blanket and a book. The bag had a few buttons on it and a knitted heart on it. She had wrinkly skin with light freckles on her face, she wasn't the societys definition of beautiful but she definitely was beautiful to mike.

"Hello pumpkin, may i sit down?" She asked. Of course, he said yes and she took a seat next to him. "So where are you heading?" She asked him.

Mike recalled almost all of the memories he had with Will.

"Home." He smiled. He noticed that was extremely weird without context. "Oh uh, I'm going to see a friend." Mike said. "It's his birthday, or it's going to be in a day anyways." Mike smiled.

"Oh hunny, that's adorable. Tell me about him, and how you got all the way here." She asked, obviously worried about this cold, distressed, underage, alone boy.

Shouldn't I not be speaking to strangers?

"I-im sorry i don't even know you." He said in the nicest way possible so he wouldn't get killed.

"Oh, no. I'm not trying to attack you, or anything darling. I'm just worried, you seem young and there's bad people out there. I don't want you getting hurt." She said, and anyone listening would have known she was sincere.

"oh. well his name is Will, we have been best friends since kindergarten, and I was a total jerk to him this past summer. and I need to make it up to him, I care about him so so much and I can't have him being alone on his birthday. he deserves better than that. I got into a fight with my parents and they talked bad about him and wouldn't let me see him on his birthday, so I walked about one and a half miles to here, just so I can get on this bus. I can't leave him, he's my cleric, after all." Mike spilled out his heart.

"wow, you seem to really miss him." She chuckled. Mike takes some seconds to answer, but then does. "Yeah, i really do."

"just from what I know, be honest with him. you really care about this boy, and I know you said you were a jerk but, just talk to him. I'm sure he cares about you too. and your girlfriend will understand, she cares about you, and your happiness but you can't keep lying about and to her. You know she hates that, and Will, will love his present." She smiled.

"I will, thank you...and how do you know all this, you're really good at advice." He asked.

She laughed and pulled up her sleeve to see her arm that had a tattoo on it. '003'

"holy crap." Mike whispered.

"or because I'm going to visit my wife for fifty years." She chuckled.

Mike was stunned, shocked at the fact people could be married for fifty years.

I think i understand how they could have been together for fifty years, if you truly love someone, you wouldn't hate being in their presence. maybe that's why.... maybe that's why my parents aren't that close anymore. or why it's so awkward when I call El.

And if mike wasn't too busy thinking, he would notice the sign they just passed, he was leaving hawkins.

[artificialqueens]

Got My Number (Branjie) - Ashley

AN: The first night out after returning home for Easter break seems promising for Brooke. However, things take a turn when she drinks a little too much and bumps into her ex-girlfriend, Vanessa. (Normal text is present day and italics is the night they met)

Hello again! It seems that self isolation has brought me back to the world of fanfic to help me cope and I have a lot to catch up. Oh how I’ve missed everyone. Hope you enjoy some of my shitty writing. Sending multitudes of gratitude to Meggie for beta-ing. Love Ashley xoxo

“This game does not work when there’s only three of us.” Brooke finished off her drink, a crafty mixture of vodka, some blue alcopop and lemonade, before flicking the card in her best friend’s face.

“It’s not Nina’s fault we lost half of our group,” Yvie retaliated, never afraid to breach the most awkward and painful topics that others wouldn’t dare to mention.

Most wouldn’t have noticed the crack in Brooke’s face, for it only lasted a second, but it was still there nonetheless; big, gaping and ready to break backs.

“Wow-wow.” Nina raised her hands, her motherly nature taking centre stage. “I will not have any of this bickering on our first night out back home.”

“I’ve missed winding you two up.” Brooke grinned and held a hand out to each girl - grateful that they were still here for her when she returned home for Easter break, grateful that they had given her the kick up the arse she needed to go out and have fun, grateful for the support they had given her when she lost the crazy little flame that kept her candle lit.

“Reckon you’ll pull tonight then, Brooke?” Yvie nudged her friend with her shoulder, only to underestimate her strength and the amount her friend had drunk so far, sending Brooke toppling back onto the floor in a fit of giggles.

“I haven’t pulled since year 13 so I highly doubt it,” Brooke brushed her friend off, thinking of how much she used to love flirting and being free, of how quickly that had changed.

An all-knowing silence filled the air, everyone remembering the night that Brooke and Vanjie first got together. 

Brooke poured herself another glass of the blue concoction - only this time without any lemonade.

“She doesn’t need to pull.” Nina raised a glass. “We can have fun as the three of us!”

“As long as all of us actually get in.” Yvie pointed an acrylic nail towards the blonde, who was starting to neck her drink as if she only had moments to live.

“I’m fine.” Brooke brushed off in the most unconvincing manner - the only logic in her brain being that the more she drank and the faster she did it the easier it would be to stop thinking about Vanjie for just one night.

Oh, how wrong that girl was.

***

Brooke could hear the clipping of her heels on the pavement as she rushed down towards the club, too sober to justify the five minute Uber journey. Probably too sober to be leaving in the first place after she had spent the hour she had to pre-drink removing and redoing her eyeliner until it was perfect without so much as tasting a sip of alcohol. 

Nevertheless, she was ready to party, begging her beloved best friends to buy her a pitcher as she hurried to meet them. Ready to dance and forget all about her impending A-Levels - getting as many drinks for horny spice boys as she could simply through tossing her long hair over one shoulder and giving them the classic flirty Brooke wave.

Maybe she’d go home with one, maybe she wouldn’t.

About to tell Nina to make it two pitchers instead of one, she was stopped in her tracks by the sight of a shorty and sulky Latina talking to herself on the curb of the road.

Brooke didn’t know what it was that made her stop.

Maybe it was the tears in the girl’s eyes that she clung to despite gravity fighting for them to fall, maybe it was the frustration in her grizzly voice, maybe it was the way her red dress complimented her skin tone as if it were picked from a colour wheel just for her.

Maybe it was all of those things combined.

“Are you alright?” Brooke placed a tentative hand on the girls back.

“Brooke Lynn?” The girl looked up, drawing her cigarette away from her mouth as she took in the glamazonian blonde giant who towered above her. Sensing Brooke’s confusion she spoke again: “My friends are all in your year at sixth form: Silky, Akeria…”

“Oh.” A light dinged in Brooke’s head. “You’re the girl who got kicked out in the first week of term for-”

“Yes, that’s me.” The girl scrunched her face in frustration towards Brooke which made her want to giggle. “And I’m back there now, bitch, so don’t even.”

“Sorry, I’ll leave you be.” Brooke remembered her friends and the big jug of Purple Rain that had her name on it.

“Wait,” the girl called, her voice cracking with a plea of desperation, the sassy tone from before quickly dropped into the drain next to her along with the stub of her cigarette.

Brooke stopped in her tracks yet again. “Yeah?”

“Can you help me find my phone?”

***

Vanessa’s pulse began to beat in time with the music as she moved closer and closer towards the speaker, sacrificing the ringing of death she’d hear the next morning to go to speak to her girls.

Never the most articulate in school, Vanessa hadn’t expected to fall in love with University life the way she had this year. From the shopping trips to the bar crawls she had thrown herself into the experience headfirst - pushing her home and the girl she left behind as far away as she could by immersing herself in every activity, club, and night out she could partake in. 

It was safe to say that this coping mechanism did not work when she was back at home; the walls around her holding a thousand or more memories of sloppy kisses and drunk dancing - closing in on her more and more till she was almost slapped across the face with the fact that her Nicholas Sparks romance had been cut short and never finished, the pages recycled into a much more lonely tale.

There was the spot where Brooke had pushed a rugby player almost clean off his feet for falling into Vanessa.

The sofa they sat on when glass slipped into her pump and Brooke had to bandage her up with blue roll and piggyback her all the way home.

The DJ who was sick to death of Vanessa requesting the first song she and Brooke had ever danced to every single Friday until he added into his queue automatically without her having to ask.

“Imma go for a smoke.” She motioned to the door - breaking her new year’s resolution that she’d managed to abide by for three whole months.

Scanning the crowd she quickly spotted a half-cute boy pulling a bag of baccy from his coat pocket.

Bingo.

The old Vanjie never got with strangers on nights out, never settled for someone she didn’t feel that spark with - you know, the one from all the teen romance movies. She was a romantic at heart.

That started to change after she broke up with Brooke; if the girl she loved more than anything in the world wasn’t going to give her The Notebook then nobody was. 

She found herself sleeping with more people at Uni - the type of people who called her beautiful but wouldn’t make eye contact in the library the following week, but she didn’t even care, she wanted to be more like Brooke was: more carefree, more independent, taking a shard from the ice queen’s castle.

But it was never the same.

As much as the thought made her want to shove her own head in a blender at how cringe she was, Vanessa had learnt the difference between fucking and making love.

Before she knew it the boy was rolling the paper for her, her mouth autopiloting her conversation, the feeling of his arm around her simply a feeling - not warm, not cold, not uncomfortable, not loving.

Brooke would have probably told her off right now, making some sort of shady comment about how her voice didn’t need to get any deeper and she didn’t need to take any more years of her life, kissing her forehead after to let her know it was only in jest.

She told herself that those days were long gone. That the Brooke who worried about her, teased her and loved her was overshadowed by the Brooke who didn’t know how to be in a relationship. 

The day they broke up popped into her body, a bitter taste making her skin crawl. The three 

unanswered calls it had taken for her girlfriend to finally answer. The short blunt replies she received. The flirty comments left on Brooke’s photos by half of the netball team. The even flirtier replies Brooke would respond with.

“Sorry, Vanj, I’m just really hungover,” she remembered Brooke saying, the first time she’d heard her voice for a while. The words piercing her skin like a needle when she realised that her girlfriend had forgotten their anniversary, the presents she had sent clearly living with the porters instead of Brooke.

The final straw.

She remembered being shocked at herself when she said that she couldn’t do it anymore. But the words slipped out in anger and she was too stubborn to take them back.

She remembered the heavy sound of Brooke’s breathing when she hung up the phone - deleting her number and taking away every chance that she had to fight for her. 

The sound of her defeated voice rang in her ear, only it took Vanessa a second to realise it wasn’t just in her memory.

***

“Are you sure she said she was in here?” Brooke gave Vanessa a pointed look as they stood on the outskirts of the dance floor, starting at the masses of people before them.

“She said she had my phone here and she had a blue top on,” Vanessa repeated, part of her finding entertainment in the way she was irritating the older girl.

“And you didn’t think to ask her name or anything else before she stopped answering your calls?”

“Sorry, mami.” Vanessa shrugged as she watched a layer of blush form on Brooke’s cheeks at her nickname. “We can ask the bouncer to do a shout out?”

Before she knew it Brooke had turned and began to dive her way through the crowd reaching back to hold Vanessa’s hand.

It could have been the dark fruits or her affinity for romance and fate acting up but Vanessa could have sworn their hands slotted together like lock and key.

She watched as Brooke took command of their path, pushing aside anyone who fell in Vanessa’s way before asking the DJ if he could make an announcement. 

No luck.

Just as they were about to make their way back through the crowd, Vanessa heard the first beats of a familiar tune and squealed with excitement.

“This is my song! We have to dance!”

“What?” Brooke looked flabbergasted at the girl who had seemed to forget how upset she was at losing her phone and friends within five seconds of a pop song.

“Dance,” Vanessa told her, a command not a question. 

Screaming the words she allowed the crowd to envelop Brooke and herself, watching a half-smile form on the other girls face at her tone-deaf screeching. 

“This is horrendous,” Brooke spoke into Vanessa’s ear - the feel of her breath heightening every sense.

“You love it,” Vanessa responded, a form of confidence washing over her body telling her to put her arms around the blonde’s waist and move closer, dancing as two halves of one body, the pair of them their own entity.

“I’m sorry I ruined your night,” Vanessa half-shouted as the song ended.

“You haven’t,” Brooke responded without thought. “Why don’t we get pizza next door and try to ring again once the club shuts? I’m sure she’ll look at the phone then.”

“That sounds like heaven.”

***

“No!” Brooke tried to swat Nina’s hand away. “We need to go back in and have fun.”

“The bouncers told me that if I didn’t take you home then they would. C’mon Brooke, we can Uber it.”

“I’m not going.” Brooke sat herself down on one of the benches, almost getting her arm burned by the girl next to her.

“Well, you have to, it’s not up to me.” Nina wasn’t even mad at the way she had to baby her friend, knowing they would have a good laugh about it for the rest of the Easter holidays and maybe even a while after that.

“Fine.” Brooke pursed her lips and stood back up. “But you’re not coming with me, I want you to go in there and get yourself a shag. I know you fancy Bob’s sister. Do it for me, Nina, I’m living through you!”

“I’m coming with you, just let me find Yvie.”

“Nooooooo.”

At that moment a familiar voice snapped Brooke’s eyes into a clearer vision.

There she was. Her devil in a leopard print jumpsuit.

“I’ll look after her.” Vanessa placed a friendly hand on Nina’s arm, missing the way her friendship group had been torn apart since their breakup. Regretting the way she cut off every and any link to the girl she was in love with.

“Oh hi.” Nina smiled awkwardly, pausing before asking Vanessa if she was sure.

“You’re not real.” Brooke opened her mouth at the girl before closing it again. “Your Uni shuts a week later. You can’t trick me, I Googled it.”

That’s when Brooke saw the smile.

The cheeky grin that showed off almost every single tooth Vanessa owned. The smile she would wake up to that told her that everything in the world would be just fine. Nothing in the world made her feel happier than that smile - she didn’t know why the sight of it made tears start to roll down her face but it did.

“Strikes.” Vanessa started to wipe Brooke’s tears away as though she were a paper doll, Brooke unable to read the emotion on her face. “Your Mam’s gonna kill you if you go home like this. Let’s get some food in you, yeah?”

***

“I remember seeing you at a house party before, Silky’s birthday,” Vanessa started after swallowing the world’s biggest mouthful of pepperoni pizza and garlic sauce, a tiny bit sticking to her lips.

Brooke wiped it off by instinct, not stopping to question why she felt so close to a girl she had only just met.

“Is that so?” Brooke asked, assuming that the girl was chatting drunk shit like she often did when she wanted to impress someone.

“Aha,” Vanjie nodded, “You were wearing this white lacy dress and I remember thinking you looked like a ballerina. And then you were sick in the kitchen sink and the bendy girl got annoyed at you but I remember thinking that she wasn’t doing a good job at holding your hair back and I could have done better.”

Brooke placed the slice of pizza she was about to bite into back into the box, amazed at how the ditzy girl had managed to remember her so well.

“Not my finest hour.” Brooke laughed.

“Tonight hasn’t been mine.” The girl laughed back, her brain slipping into a more sober state.

Her laugh sounded like a car alarm. Brooke wanted to put it in a jar and have it wake her up on lazy mornings.

“I’m sure you can repay me at some point.” Brooke smiled - Vanessa’s grin an infectious curse that you couldn’t help but surrender to.

“Bitch, I just bought you half of this pizza!”

“I meant in other ways.”

Normally Brooke would blame it on the drink. The longing to have someone’s body, the longing to hold them, even the longing to simply spend time with them. But right then she was stone cold and wanted nothing more than to spend the next day, the day after then and every day that followed listening to Vanessa chat shit and tease her.

“I taste of garlic,” Vanessa blurted out to the girl, her no-filter mouth spilling out the first panic that came to her mind at the thought of kissing the beautiful blonde creature in front of her.

“I mean, so do I.” Brooke laughed and moved closer to the girl, forgetting about the world around them and feeling her soft cheek against her palm.

Before she was snapped back to reality by a phone call. The phone call she had waited all night for that she now wished had never come.

“Cockblock.” Vanessa laughed before grabbing Brooke’s phone and aggressively interrogating the girl on the other end.

***

“Feeling better?” Vanessa asked her ex-girlfriend/first love/girl she was certainly still in love with as she waited for her to swallow her mouthful of pizza, surprised at how easily she had fallen back into being with her.

“A little,” Brooke responded, not meeting her eyes properly.

“You want me to take you back now?” Vanessa asked, figuring that sitting with her was the last thing Brooke wanted to do now, whether she’d bought her food or not.

“Not yet.” Brooke took a large swig from the Diet Coke Vanessa had bought her, finally meeting her eyes. “I wanna chat about David.”

Vanessa felt a lilt of panic rise in her body. 

Had Brooke found a new boyfriend? 

She shouldn’t be jealous - she broke up with her, she had slept around. But the thought of someone else running their hands through Brooke’s hair and planting her sloppy kisses made some form of heat rise up through her chest into her throat.

“David?” she managed to choke out - the hardest two syllables she’d ever had to conjure.

“Yeah, David. Shona dumped him!” Brooke slurred a little, turning to face Vanessa for the first time since they sat down in the shop.

“You hate Corrie.” Vanessa started to laugh at the thought of Brooke spending however long watching the soap. “You used to say it was a load of utter shite - the bane of your Friday night!”

“I do.” Brooke nodded in agreement. “But it makes me think of you.”

Something about the thought of her ex-girlfriend sitting down three nights a week to watch a show she despised just because it reminded her of their time together managed to warm and break Vanessa’s heart simultaneously.

“Well.” Vanessa looked at her, really looked at her. “I’m sad David and Shona aren’t together anymore. Even though he was a dick to her and didn’t really treat her right, I wish she’d given him more of a chance to work at it instead of running scared.”

“You’re right, he was a dick.” Brooke looked back, her almost grey eyes showing a maturity that Vanessa hadn’t seen during their relationship. “Maybe when I’m sober we can talk about how much he still loves her. But how he knows now that that’s not everything, he knows he needs to appreciate her. I know I need to appreciate you.”

And Vanessa knew that it wasn’t perfect. She knew that both of them would have to try, that The Notebook had its own ups and downs to get to the good bit. She knew there was more talking to be done, more apologies to be given on both of their behalfs. But right then she wanted to forget about that and simply kiss the girl she loved and missed.

In the movies, the big romantic moment always happened somewhere beautiful. Cady kissed Aaron in the middle of the dancefloor with that stupid crown on her head. Noah kissed Ali in the rain next to a swan filled lake. Cher kissed Josh in the perfect centre of that ornate staircase. 

Vanessa wouldn’t have given up their tiny bench in a greasy takeaway table for any of that because Brooke’s lips simply felt like home.

“Ugh.” She grimaced away after, looking away from Brooke.

“Oh, erm, sorry. I thought… ” Brooke responded, a panicked look crossing her face.

“Garlic.” Vanessa put a hand to her mouth and grinned, a sense of warmth coming to her at the thought of being able to wind Brooke up again just like she used to, watching her face change when she realised Vanessa’s joke and swatted her arm.

“You little bitch. I actually believed you there.” Brooke laughed before pulling Vanessa in for one more kiss regardless. A kiss that she’d later think about as the second-best kiss of her life.

“Let’s get you in a taxi.” Vanessa read the looks of the staff behind the counter and grabbed Brooke’s hand.

“Are we gonna talk in the morning?” Brooke asked hopefully, scared that drunken words may have turned into regret on Vanessa’s behalf.

“You’ve got my number.”

***

“So, thanks again for helping me find this.” Vanessa looked down at her phone.

Three minutes till her Uber arrived.

“It’s fine.” Brooke brushed her off. “I probably would have had a shit night in the club anyway. At least I got some pizza out of it.”

“Yeah.” Vanessa laughed, letting an awkward silence linger. “Two minutes.”

“Oh,” Brooke said looking at the phone then back at Vanessa, a train of thought clearly chugging through her brain that was too fast for Vanessa to capture.

“Fuck it.”

She threw her arm around the back of Brooke’s head in one fell swoop, letting her other hand caress her cheek as they kissed.

Brooke was taken aback at first, but soon Vanessa felt her hand on the curve of her back and felt the girl’s body almost melt into her own.

“Oh shit.” Vanessa heard the phone ring and looked next to her to see her Uber waiting. “Cockblocked again.” 

Brooke laughed as Vanessa squeezed her hand and started to make her way towards the car. “I’ll text you in the morning?” she shouted after the girl who had just given her the best kiss of her life, more of a needy question than a statement.

“You’ve got my number,” Vanessa winked before closing the door and blowing a kiss to Brooke, thinking about how the story of her night would make the best teen romance movie.

[hiddenleafstoryteller]

We Were Only Seventeen Pt. 1 - Kakashi Hatake Imagine-

TLDR; The story is told from the point of view of a much older reader, recollecting her youth. In the past, the reader and Kakashi have fallen fast in love, a summer spent side by side, but as fall creeps upon them, with winters chill close behind, a choice changes their lives forever.

A//N: My timeline may be off but for reference, Kakashi is currently in the ANBU.

A song to listen to while reading; The Bride & The Bachelor by Magnolian

I’ll post part two, depending on how well this one does.

————————-

“Was Grandfather your first love?” Emika, the middle grandchild, asked from across the room. Your grandchildren had come on their weekly visit and were spread out across your sitting room, pictures and diaries scattered around. All of your memories fallen upon the blue rug that had been your mothers.

It takes you a moment to look up from your stitching, and when your eyes met a younger version of yours, you smile. Emika has been the only one to get your eyes, her brothers and sister bore those of their father.

“Was Grandfather my first love?” You repeat softly as the sea of memories begins to wash away the sand that covered your buried treasures.

You put away your stitching, and then pat your lap gently, “C’mon over here, I think it’s time I tell you a story.”

“Daichi! Kai! Iricho! Gramma’s got a story!” She calls out to the rest of the house, as she climbs into your lap the pitter patter of footsteps quickly raced towards where you sat.

Kai, the second oldest, sat with her legs crossed in front of her with Daichi, on her lap. He was just barely three and enjoyed following his big sister around. Iricho hung back, leaning against the doorframe. At fourteen, he considered himself ‘to old’ for a story from his grandmother but, he always stayed in the room until she said “the end.”

“Oh now, let me see,” [Y/N] pauses and touch her lips as her eighty-one (no, eighty-two) year old brain explores the lifetime she carried with her. “This would have been oh, about sixty-five years ago?”

She rocks slowly in her chair, quietly beginning to hum herself.

“It was the spring I turned seventeen, the cherry trees had just begun to blossom, much like your grandmother here.” She chuckles softly, “I was, how do you young people say it? ‘Quite the catch?’”

Out of the corner of her eye she sees a silent laugh leave Iricho’s lips.

As the story pours from her lips, like water onto newly planted seeds, she finds herself falling back in time. A time where her knees didn’t ache, her hair did not match the snow & when her memories where always hers, not often on adventures away from her.

“All those books [Y/N], perhaps you should consider some human friends?” Your mother’s voice calls from below the cherry tree that had been your hideout since the day you had learned to climb it.

“I have plenty of human friends mother, which is why I prefer to read.” [Y/N] calls down and turns the page of the latest novel she had picked up from the bookstore.

“You could at least come down and help me fold the wash.” Her reply is more of a command and [Y/N] quickly climbs down from the tree, landing next to her mother.

“What’s this one about?” Mother asks, nodding to the book as she hands [Y/N] some shirts to fold.

“Finding true love, adventures, romance.” [Y/N] say briefly and she laughs, “Finding true love? And what does a seventeen year old Chunin know about love?” She teases her daughter and laughs when she sees her face flush.

“Mama!” [Y/N] looks down at the clothes in front of her, not being able to make eye contact with her mother.

Her mother giggles and looks at her daughter, no longer short and narrow but instead blossoming into a young woman, similar to how the cherry tree blossoms. Her beauty had begun to show, but the true fruit was hidden amongst the facade. Only to be shown to those patient enough to wait for the flower to decide when it was ready. “Have any of the village boys caught your eye?” She asks and [Y/N] shakes her head with a laugh.

.“You clearly haven’t met any of the village boys my age Mama.” [Y/N] retorts as she drifts off into a daydream.

When she finishes folding the laundry, she tells her mother she is going into town.

“The bookkeeper may have a new book for me!” She calls out as she walks towards the center of the village. As she walks, she continues reading, her nose dipped down into the words of her story.

Time passes quickly and she soon finds herself in the bookshop, quietly browsing the shelves. She decides to wander to the far back, to the adult novels, and she begins to search for her next favorite book. She chooses one at random and sits down in a large chair, beginning to devour every sentence.

She didn’t even notice the other person sitting directly behind her, also trapped in a work of fiction. As time ticked by, [Y/N] became more and more entrapped in the plot of her novel.

“We’re closing soon [Y/N], you might as well pack up! You can let yourself out as you always do.” The bookkeeper called and [Y/N] reassured him that she would leave as soon as she finished reading. She stands up, and goes to place her old book on the shelf, deciding this new one was going to come home with her. As she turned to leave, she bumps shoulders with the boy she hadn’t noticed.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry!” She says as both of their books fall to the floor. They both stoop down to grab them at the same time and [Y/N] finally gets a good look at the stranger, or of what she could see of him.

Most of his face was obscured by a mask, his forehead protector tilted to hide one of his eyes. What a strange, strange boy.

Without a word, he nods at her and walks out of the shop. She shrugs and turns to do the same, looking down at her book only to notice the title was written in green font, not yellow.

“Oh no!” She groans and races out into the night, “Hey mister! You grabbed the wrong book!” She calls out to the direction he had headed in but he was already out of eyesight.

“Damnit! Now I’ll never know how it ends, that was the only copy!” [Y/N] whines as she begins to head home. She glances down at the book the strange boy had been reading, she flipped through a few pages and found herself blushing.

“Oh, this is vulgar.” She mumbles, making a mental note to hide it very well from her mother.

When she gets home, she finds her house quiet. Maybe her parents had gone out for the night. She climbs up the stairs and when she opens the door to her room, she sees a piece of paper tacked to her bedpost. She grabs it and slowly reads;

“Lets trade back, I need to know the ending of my book. Meet me at the cherry tree when you get this.”

The note was signed with a simple ‘K’ and [Y/N] feels her heart race. This was just like one of her novels, but was he friend or foe?

She wouldn’t find out by just standing here. She makes sure she is well prepared, three kunai nestled in holders on each hip, before she steals away into the night headed to her beloved cherry tree.

When she arrives, she sees no sign of anyone else but her. She closes her eyes and clicks her tongue softly and felt the sound waves flow around her. Her clan had been gifted with the ability of echolocation, something she had perfected at a young age. When the waves pinged off an unidentifiable shape in the tree top, she knows it’s him.

She quickly climbs up and finds the masked boy sitting with his legs crossed, deeply involved in her book.

“Um, hello.” She calls out softly and he holds up a finger to signal he needed a minute. She watches his one eye scroll the page until he finally closes the book.

“It actually isn’t as bad as I presumed it would be.” He says matter-of-factly as he stands up and walks towards [Y/N].

“I hear a trade is in order.” [Y/N] says standing near him, he towers over her by a good foot at least, “Although, I can’t understand why you would want to read something so vulgar.”

The stranger laughs and peers into her eyes before saying, “And I can’t understand why you’d want to read this cheesy romance novels.”

[Y/N] rolls her eyes, and goes to grab her book from his hands but he is much quicker than she expected.

“Oh c’mon, I would like my book please.” [Y/N] says growing frustrated, and she swears she sees a sly smile under his mask.

“On two conditions: one) You tell me your name and two) you stay here and read it to me. Till the very last page, even if it takes the entire summer.” He muses and [Y/N] sighs.

“My name is [Y/N], of the Saito clan. Who are you?” She says and he hands her the book, he looks away when she asks.

“You can just call me Kakashi.” He replies and [Y/N] sits on the tree branch.

“Well Kakashi, lets get to reading them.” She begins to tell him the story, he slowly sits with her and by the time she has finished the first chapter she finds herself enjoying the quiet, reading to him.

“I enjoy your voice.” He says, interrupting her. [Y/N] blushes and looks away.

“Will you meet me here tomorrow night? After the sun is down?” He asks and [Y/N] nods as she slips away home as the sun began to rise.

Read pt.2 Here

[fnafimagines]

𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 (𝐅𝐍𝐀𝐅 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑)

C H A P T E R  O N E

What is this fanfic about?

(Your Name) (Last Name) is a prodigy detective in a small town in Maine. She is assigned to a cold case that is more than 20 years old.  The details of the case are minuscule. Residents pass superstitions around like wildfire.

She assigned to the night watch at the pizzeria. What will she find? But more importantly, what is the truth?

Want to read more?

Wattpad or Quotev

The intern rapped his hands against the firmly-polished mahogany door. His hands combed through his swooped blonde hair as he heard a soft voice say, “Come in.”

He opened the door, wincing at the slight squeak the hinges gave. His stance relaxed as he saw the woman give him a kind smile. “What can I help you with, Phillip?”

“Well, Ms. (Last Name), we have another case we need you to work on,” He stated firmly.

“Okay, show me what’ cha got,” She chided. Her bright (e/c) eyes dimed as a thin case file was slammed on the desk. She lifted one of the folds only to find a maximum of three pages hidden underneath. She sat straight up as she looked at the intern.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Phillip.” The blonde man straightened his stature as he looked at the woman. Her demeanor had turned cold, her expression turned sour. He was completely knowledgeable of her slight no-shit attitude.

She just sighed as Phillip stayed there, more frozen than Antarctica in winter. She was completely done with being undermined in this department. She had skills, but they had always set her up to fail. 'I am a prodigy, damn it!'

She looked up at the boy and groaned. “What’s the mission?”

He straightened. “You’ll be a night watchman at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. You need to find out why all these nightguards are disappearing.” His voice became strained as he looked at her. Her face was pale and her body stiffened. Everyone had heard about the rumors around that place. It was enough to make the prodigy detective shrink in her seat.

“You. Want me. To go there. With no backup?” At this point, she had gotten out of her chair and had backed him into the wall. He shakily nodded his head.

“U-Unless you don’t want to.” He stuttered. She just sighed and shook her head.

“Don't’ worry about it. I’ll handle this.” She walked over to the coat-rack next to the door. She grabbed her coat and hat and put her hand on the doorknob. Pausing, she turned back to look at the intern, one hand on the knob, the other gripping tightly to the file.

“Make sure they know I’m doing this. Alone.” The intern winced as the door slammed shut.

You shivered as you walked back to your apartment, your coat tightly wrapped around you. Your mood turned even more sour than before, as you had forgotten your knitted hat at home. The hat you were wearing was only for fashion-sake.

You looked in a frozen puddle on the ground.

“I even look like a detective! Why can’t they see that?” You stomped, making the puddle shatter into a mixture of beautiful shards. You could see multiple of you as your face burned in anger. You started to speedwalk home. You looked down at the case file. 'I wonder what’s in this thing?'

You walked into the lobby, being looked at by strangers and neighbors as you walked into the elevator. You didn’t blame them, though. You looked like a wet cat. You pressed the button for your floor, but then noticed a tall, older man standing next to you.

He had scruffy brown hair and some stubble growing on his face. He stood a little too close for comfort to you, despite there being ample room in the elevator.

“What floor are you going to?” You asked politely.

“Number 23,” He responded. You pressed the corresponding button and then moved slightly away from him. He chuckled, seemingly noticing your discomfort but doing nothing to erase the tension. Instead, he decided to engage in a bit of small talk.

“My name is David Miller. How about you ma'am?” He asked politely. You smiled uncomfortably.

“My name is (Your Name) (Last Name). Are you new here? I’ve never seen you around.” You asked.

“I am indeed new here, ma'am. Just moved here from the next town over.” He adjusted his sleeve cuffs absentmindedly.

“Oh! What do you do?” You said, your smile becoming a bit more genuine.

“I’m a technician at a pizzeria. You might have heard of it. It’s Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza.” You froze. ‘I could be talking to a suspect!’ You instantly went into detective mode.

“Really? That place is pretty creepy. Don't you think?” He just chuckles.

“It is, but you get used to it. Now, what do you do?” You adjusted your coat as you cleared your throat.

“Well, I got fired from my last job and am looking for another one.” You lied. He just looked at you and gave a slightly creepy smile.

“Well, we do have an open position at the restaurant.” You made a fake excited grin.

“Really! What is it?” You chuckled. “I’m kind of desperate for a job if you didn’t notice.”

“It’s the nightshift. Kind of perfect if you ask me. You get to watch over the robots for a few hours at night and then have the whole rest of the day to yourself. It must be magnificent.”

“Whoa, that sounds perfect. I usually want to spend the day with my friends anyways. That’s actually where I’m going! I’m visiting a friend of mine, Alex. He lives here.” You lied.

Alex was your neighbor and a good friend of yours. He was intelligent but could be slightly wimpy. You slyly smirked to yourself. You honestly didn’t want Dave to know that you lived here.

“Ooo! A boyfriend, perhaps?” Your face turned scarlet as the man chuckled.

“No way! I mean, he’s cute and all, but not my type.” Dave chuckled.

You both were interrupted by a chime, signalizing that it had hit your floor. You turned to Dave and gave him a polite smile.

“Here’s my stop! I’ll see you around!” You stepped out and gave a friendly wave.

“Of course, ma’am.” You turned around and the elevator closed. When he knew you weren’t looking Dave gave a horrific grin.

“Foolish girl.”

You couldn’t believe you might have gotten a lead suspect already. Dave was creepy and not good at hiding his serial-killer esque personality. You had a feeling he might be behind this whole 'nightguard going missing' situation but weren’t one-hundred percent sure.

But you knew you could get the job easier. Maybe the man could even assist you. You took out your keys, finally recognizing the headache you had from the cold weather. You’d have to take some medicine for that later.

You opened the door and hung up your hat and coat, only to find a furry friend nuzzle your feet. You looked down and smiled.

“Hello, Milo.” You smiled down at your tabby cat. He nuzzled into your leg as you grabbed him and brought him up to your face and smiled.

“Did you miss me?” He meowed in response, jumping from your hands to the top of your head, where he curled up into a ball. You chuckled and walked into the kitchen to get yourself some water. You struggled to reach the glass cups in the cupboard and decided to just go for one of the plastic ones in the drawer. ‘Why do the cupboards have to be made for tall people!’

You walked over to your cabinet to look around for the ibuprofen, sighing and just closing the cabinet, only to find the ibuprofen on the counter. ‘Okay, first the cupboards. And now my damn medicine is bouncing around like the Annabelle doll!’

You popped the child-safety cap off of the container and poured some tablets into your hand, accidentally getting too many. You put all but two back and then swallowed them, instantly washing the dryness down with a cold cup of water.

You walked through the hallway to get to your dainty little bedroom, ignoring the creaks in the floorboards as you observed some of the pictures on the wall that your parents had sent you one lonely weekend. You remember that you still had most of the older photos in the closet, basically just dumping them there until you got the time to sort through them all.

‘I’ll go through them after this whole Fazbear business is done,’ you decided to yourself. You walked into your room, covering your ears as your door slammed against the wall. You groaned. You jumped onto your bed, cozying up into the comforter. ‘Yeah, I should probably take a shower.’

Your eyes squinted as you opened the call app on your cell phone. Your phone shined as you went to turn down the brightness.

You looked at the number you had to enter. ‘1-888-FAZ-FAZBEAR.’ You slightly hesitated before you finally pressed the call button. Your heart pounded faster as the phone rang out in your silent, empty apartment. Milo nuzzled into your leg as you sat crisscrossed on the couch. You rubbed your temples as you put a pair of reading glasses on. The frames were black, a staple fashion piece if you had to say so yourself. They gave you an intelligent and cunning look.

You were interrupted from your thoughts by another voice coming out from the other line.

“This is Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. How may I help you?” a sweet older woman asked.

You got out your notepad and pen and started jotting down about this woman. ‘Maybe another suspect.’

“Hi! My name is (Your Name) (Last Name). I’m was looking at the open position that you guys have online. The night shift, I think it was?” You said kindly.

The woman seemed to pause as her voice turned to a whisper. “Are you sure you want to do that, sweet pea? The night shift doesn't seem like a job for such a sweet-sounding young lady.” You internally scoffed at the seemingly sexist remark, but you knew she was just being polite, so you put on your sweetest voice.

“Don’t worry, ma’am. I can handle it!” You heard her sigh.

“Okay, I’ll get you an appointment with my husband.”

‘Oh shit!’ You weren’t just talking to anyone. This was Dorothy Emily, the owner’s wife.

Your voice practically grew three times sweeter. “That would be amazing, ma’am! Thank you so much. “ You could practically picture her frown.

“No problem, dear... How’s tomorrow at 10?” Your grin grew wide.

“Perfect! Thank you again.” You were about to cheer.

“Goodbye… dear.” The line hung up as you dialed down your cheer, your face contorting from happiness and excitement into a look of terror. ‘Why did that sound so… ominous?'

You brushed it off as you looked down at the kitten sleeping in your lap. You kindly smiled and pet his fur, hearing an almost silent purr come from the content kitten. You then looked up at the tons of papers and notes you had compiled about the case. One, in particular, sparked your interest. It was a fairly old newspaper, but its words spoke volumes about what you could be going up against.

“Kids vanish at local pizzeria – bodies not found. Two local children were reportedly lured into a back room during the late hours of operation at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza on the night of June 26th. While video surveillance identified the man responsibly and led to his capture the following morning, the children themselves were never found and are presumed dead. “

“Police think that the suspect dressed as a company mascot to earn the children’s trust.”

“Five children now reported missing. Suspect convicted. Five children are now linked to the incident at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, where a man dressed as a cartoon mascot lured then into a back room. While the suspect has been charged, the bodies themselves were never found. Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza has been fighting an uphill battle ever since to convince families to return to the pizzeria. ‘It’s a tragedy.’”

“Local pizzeria threatened with shutdown over sanitation. Local pizzeria, Freddy-Fazbear’s Pizza has been threatened again with shutdown by the health department over reports of a foul odor coming from the much-loved animal mascots.

Police were contacted when parents reportedly noticed what appeared to be blood and mucus around the eyes and mouths of the mascots. One parent likened them to ‘reanimated carcasses’.”

“Local pizzeria said to close by years end. After a long struggle to stay in business after the tragedy that took place there many years ago, Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza has announced that it will close by year’s end. Despite a year-long search for a buyer, companies seem unwilling to be associated with the company. ‘These characters will live on. In the hearts of kids - these characters will live on.’ -CEO”

Either the pizzeria never closed, or it had a reopening. But this was suspicious for several reasons. First of all, you had looked through there code and saw that they would clean up to the premise of a crime scene before police got there. That was probably why they put you on the case. ‘They probably put me on the case because of my prodigy skills.’

Okay, okay now. Stop being cocky. You would have to see what all of this was about at your shift. You looked down at the sleeping cat. ‘Tomorrow.’

You grabbed a soft knitted blue blanket and finally, after a long day of paperwork fell asleep.

[veriforman-aa]

also  available  on  ao3  !

here’s the thing about ellie’s childhood bedroom: once she moved out, it never felt like hers again. from that point on, it was a stranger’s room. she came home, and everything had changed.

she’d visited for holidays, of course, and always had a darling time there. the last christmas, she’d rung up an old friend, taken her mom to the local diner they frequented all those years ago. her parents were always over the moon to see her. she could hear the excitement in her dad’s voice when she said she’d be coming over for a bit.

her arms had burned as she packed, still sore and stiff as she threw everything she could think of into a suitcase. she drove there, faster than she took note of, and drove and drove. she pulled over once, stopping to vomit onto the grass beside the highway, and spent the night at a cheap motel. it wouldn’t have been much of a strain on her wallet to pull for somewhere a little nicer, but the motel looked as bad as she felt, and she figured the staff wouldn’t think twice about how unkempt she looked.

now she’s staring into the shell of her bedroom. it’s the same as she remembers, or it should be: floral-printed pillows all neatly stacked on her bed, vanity covered in ponytail holders and bandanas, polaroids of herself and loved ones on the bulletin board above her desk. she steps over to it and looks closer, looks at a photo of herself a decade prior. seventeen-year-old ellie has her arm slung around a friend’s shoulder — charlotte? carrie? caroline, she remembers. caroline and ellie are smiling, laughing, and it makes present-day ellie angry. she wonders when’s the last time caroline cried.

--

it’s night one, well past midnight, and ellie’s bedside lamp is on. she’s sprawled out in bed, the family dog, baxter, snoring somewhere by her feet. she watches her ceiling fan go ‘round and ‘round, listens to the ambiance of the suburbs outside her window, and considers the carton of cigarettes she impulsively bought on the drive over.

“fuck it,” she mumbles, and adds a “sorry” when baxter stirs awake and shoots her as dirty of a look as a terrier can. the bedframe creaks as she shuffles over to her backpack and pulls out a cigarette, then a second one for good measure, and a lighter. her fingers lift the window up, and the night breeze flicks up strands of her hair, inviting. she used to stargaze out this window; now she’s only watching the lighter’s flame lick its way up her cigarette. she inhales. the smoke is smooth, relaxing, but she still curses herself for not being smart enough to pick up something stronger, and thinks about how different her life was this time last week.

--

“it’s like nothing at all has happened,” she says into the phone the next morning, her fingers weaving their way around the cord. “nothing at all. i got to my parents’ place, and...”

“you haven’t told them, have you?” alan interrupts.

“no.” she sighs, and reels in the annoyance bubbling to the surface. “no, i just told them i needed to come home for a little while. mom thinks i’m — pregnant, or we had a big split or something. dad’s just happy to see me.”

the line goes quiet for a pause, and she takes the opportunity to continue before he can tell her what she’s done wrong. “i want to tell them everything. i’m going to. i just — they’ll never believe me. i mean, would you? all the evidence i have is — this stack of copies of paperwork hammond’s people made us, and they kept everything as vague as fucking possible, of course.”

she realizes now he’s letting her speak of her own accord, and for that, she’s grateful.

“it’s weird,” she continues. the cord of the phone is all knotted now, and she hasn’t noticed. “that’s the only way i can think to describe it. it’s weird, and it’s fucked up. and i don’t — want to be here. i don’t want to be here, alan.”

“you wanna come home?” he says, sounding a little hopeful, or hopeless.

“no,” she answers without much thought to it. “because i don’t want to be there, either. i don’t want to be in indiana or montana or fucking isla nublar. the entire earth is suffocating me.”

--

she tells her parents a week later. she’d spent the morning out on their patio, fussing at baxter to stop digging holes in the flowerbeds, and when her dad stepped outside to ask ellie if she was planning on eating lunch, she didn’t hear the back door open. she only heard her name, and felt a hand on her shoulder, and she yelped, a desperate, needy sound.

she cries when she gets the whole story out, but it’s not the full-body, desperate, heaving sobs she woke up with last night, so she counts it as a success. her dad believes her, her mom needed more convincing. she can’t blame her, of course; she hardly believes it herself, but it still hurts.

--

“it’s just hard right now,” she tells alan one night after dinner. her mom had opened a bottle of wine for the two of them to split, and her hands are shaking as they hold the phone.

“would it be easier if i were there?”

guilt sinks her gut. the answer sits heavy on her tongue, and it’s something neither of them want to hear. she lets the silence hang between them, then settles on as neutral of a response as she can manage. “i’m gonna see you soon, alan, i promise.”

“i can come to you, sweetheart,” he says. “you don’t have to be alone right now. don’t you go thinking you have to do this alone—”

she’s distracted, trying to remember the last time he called her “sweetheart” when she notices the way his voice is rising, and it snaps her alert. “i’m not alone. i’ve got mom, and dad, and baxter.”

“...baxter’s still alive?”

that makes her smile a little, despite it all. “yeah, baxter’s still alive.”

--

“malcolm called my trailer this morning,” alan says in lieu of “hello.”

the pen she’d been idly twirling between her fingers falls into her lap. “malcolm?”

“er — ian, yeah. from—”

“no, i remember,” ellie murmurs. “how’d he get that number?”

alan is quiet, and she can imagine him frowning as he thinks about it. “that was the least of my questions. he asked if you were around, and before i could answer, he said it’s fine if he just talks to me.”

“oh,” she says, sounding flatter than she’d wanted to.

“he asked how we were doing, and i said we were fine.”

“you said we were fine?” she laughs, even though the words come out bitter and cold.

“i...” he’s at a loss, she can tell. “i didn’t know what else to say. what would you have said, ellie?”

she presses her palm flat against her desk and looks down at her nails, chewed and ragged. “probably the same. what else did he say?”

“not much.”

“i find that hard to believe.”

“not much by his standards,” alan corrects.

a smile tugs at the corner of her lips; she indulges in it. “right.”

“i asked how he was doing,” he goes on. “he said he’s doing the same, but he wasn’t very convincing. and that was it. think he just wanted to make sure we were still alive.”

“oh,” she sighs. “maybe i should give him a call.”

“why?”

she wonders that herself. “i don’t know. maybe he’d talk to me more.”

“he sure seemed interested in talking to you when you met,” he says, and she struggles to interpret that one.

“i don’t know what you want me to say to that, alan,” ellie says after a moment. “i really don’t.”

“yeah, i know,” he says. “i’m sorry, that — wasn’t — i didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“it’s okay,” she assures him, voice softer now. “i’ve been... lashing out a lot lately.”

“okay,” he repeats.

“alan?”

“yeah?”

“i love you,” she tells him, the first time in too long. it feels good to say it, like she’s been holding it in for a while.

“love you, too, ellie,” he says gently. “don’t forget that.”

---

she’s crying the next time she calls alan. the tears are hot, stinging, and humiliating.

“you sound far away, ellie,” he tells her, and this time he can’t hide how sad he sounds. he must’ve given up trying, she decides, which is a thought she can’t settle with.

“i feel it,” she says back. “i didn’t sleep last night. the last time i did, i had a horrible nightmare. i went through six cigarettes this morning.”

“you don’t smoke,” he interrupts, like it’s the most pressing issue they have.

“i used to, in high school.’

“i didn’t know that.”

“i’ve mentioned it before,” she says with a certainty. “i told you that, on one of our first dates. we stopped at a gas station. you got me a dr. pepper, and you asked if you could get me anything else while we were there, like a refrigerator magnet or a pack of cigarettes, and i told you that i hadn’t smoked since high school.”

a pause. “okay,” alan responds. “must’ve forgot.”

“yeah, must’ve,” she grits out. she closes her eyes, tight, and regrets every word she’s ever said to him. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry, i am. i know i’m not being easy right now.”

“well, you’re not an easy woman, ellie,” he replies, but it’s with the kind of angry affection she knows well. “if i wanted easy, i wouldn’t be around.”

“what if i want to be? easy?” she asks him, eyes still closed. “what if i want to come home, and i want to go to work like i used to, and i want to be myself again, and i can’t?”

“...then i guess you evolve.”

--

the days tick one by one. some nights she sleeps, other nights she doesn’t. she picks up new habits, like waking up with baxter to watch the sun rise and burying her thoughts in a journal, then ripping out the page with every terrible word she’s feeling on it and throwing it away. her mom buys her a variety of seeds for their garden. a project, she calls it. ellie doesn’t have the heart to tell her that half of them won’t bloom this time of year, so she plants them all anyway.

--

she goes a week without calling alan. she needed the time, and she thinks, so did he. when she calls finally, she’s laying in her bed, window open and sunlight pouring in.

“hi,” she greets.

“hi, stranger,” he says pleasantly. “nice of you to call.”

“you could’ve called first, you know,” she reminds him, her brows raising.

“yes,” he sighs. “but that’s running the risk of your dad picking up, and then i’d never get the chance to talk to you.”

“stop,” she laughs, the noise coming out foreign and warm. “he only talks to you because he likes you so much.”

“talks?” he repeats. “is that what you’re calling it?”

“yeah,” she hums. “how are you?”

“i’m okay.”

“just okay?” slight concern tinges her voice, and her brows furrow beneath her bangs.

“well, better than okay,” he adds. “just not quite good yet. between okay and good.”

“that sounds like improvement to me.”

“mhm. how are you?”

“i’m good,” ellie says emphatically, something hidden between the words.

“just good?’ he teases. “you give me shit for being brief, and that’s all you’re gonna give me?”

“well... i do have something,” she confesses. “a progress update, i suppose.”

“oh, yeah?” he’s smiling behind the words, she can tell. “i could use some good news.”

“okay.” she smiles, too, and licks her lips. “i started writing a book.”

[dragoninthecloud]

Following the crumbs back to you - Chapter 2

Fluff alert! Thanks again to tbehartoo!

Start - Next

-~-

Adrien sat at his desk, chatting with Nino and helping him plan his next date with Alya when he heard Marinette’s distinct laugh getting closer. His eyes flickered to the doorway just as the girls walked in, and he stopped.

Marinette and Alya were arm in arm, giggling with their heads close together. Her eyes were sparkling, and she had little wrinkles next to them from where her smile was so wide. Her nose was scrunched up too, changing the way her freckles looked. She went to say something else to Alya when she spotted him, and he was amused for a moment as she seemed to do a double take. Then her smile shifted ever so slightly, suddenly looking forced, painful, and he recognised it as the smile she always gave him and he nodded his head to her in greeting before turning back to Nino because wow. Ok.

He’d noticed before just how different her smiles were, between what she gave Adrien and Chat of course. But he’d never seen it change like that. The second she’d noticed him looking, it had morphed completely into something less… real.

It was still real, of course. He knew that. Marinette liked him. More than liked him in fact. But that smile? It wasn’t her full smile. The smile she wore around Alya, or the girl squad, or any of their classmates. It wasn’t the smile she gave Chat.

He was still trying to work out just how he had never noticed before when the bell rang and the teacher walked in, and he twirled his pen around his fingers and frowned at the board.

What else hadn’t he noticed?

~

He tried not to change how he acted, because he didn’t know. Not as Adrien anyway. But he found himself watching her more throughout the day.

At break, she sat on a bench and sewed a button back on someone’s cardigan, quick hands working their magic as she laughed softly and smiled gently, only for that smile to falter again when she caught him watching from the corner of her eye. So he sighed, and walked away.

She sat next to Chloe at lunch, leaning over a shared magazine and listening to his oldest friend’s comments with an ease he’d never expected them to develop. She held the magazine up to Chloe’s face, chattering away and pointing to something on the page as Chloe nodded along, before they kissed each other on the cheek and Chloe left. But again, her smile twitched into something more forced when she met his gaze from across the room. So he turned back to Nino and Ivan and talked about the film they’d seen over the weekend.

And then after school, as he stood on the street and waited for his ride. She was talking to Rose and Juleka, and writing something in her drawing pad, when a group of boys walking past them must have said something, and her face immediately went blank. She turned to face them as they walked away, and while he was too far to hear exactly what she said, he could see the way they stiffened and spun and gaped at her, then hung their heads and looked sheepish. And she was standing tall, and confident, head high and shoulders back and in her element and it was amazing to watch. And when they walked away and she turned back to Rose and Juleka with a soft smile, he couldn’t look away at the warmth in her expression. Until she saw him yet again, and her eyes widened, and he sighed and turned before he had to watch it drop yet again.

~~~

Chat landed on her balcony right on time, whistling happily. Running across rooftops was the best, except for the pigeons. He bounced over to the open skylight and crouched down to knock, but paused. He was Chat right now. He had no reason to act any different around her, beyond some teasing possibly. They were friends. He had to remember that. He could do this. He knocked on his forehead twice then the window frame, and waited for the muffled yell to come in from further inside the house.

He swung down, being careful of his feet over her bed, and made his way over to the door when he didn’t find Marinette in her room. Marinette was at the kitchen counter with Sabine, and both smiled up at him as he started down the stairs.

“Well hello there Chat, it’s been a while since you were round. How are you?”

“I’m better now I’ve seen your smile again Sabine,” he purred, stopping next to her and lifting her hand to kiss her fingers with a wink.

She laughed at him and he smirked at the eye roll Marinette sent him behind her mother’s back as she pulled her hand free to pat his cheek.

“Charmer. Are you staying for dinner today?”

“Not today ma’am, sorry.”

“That’s too bad. Let Marinette know when you’ll be free next, Tom’s trying a new quiche recipe he wants your opinion on.”

He perked up at that and ginned, nodding happily as she left to go back to the bakery, but she paused in the doorway.

“Try not to destroy my kitchen this time.”

Chat felt the blush spread on his cheeks, and then felt it burn hotter as Marinette failed to hold in her snickers.

“Yes ma’am. I and my tail are staying as far from the mixer as we can, promise.”

“That’s all I can ask dear. Have fun.”

He walked over to join Marinette at the counter, but she tutted at him and pointed to the sink. He rolled his eyes and went to wash his hands. Well, gloves? He really needed to ask Plagg about taking the gloves off for things like this, as often as it happened.

But then she was telling him to get the bowls out, and to do this, and do that, and he fell in to the routine they had when they cooked together. Laughs and jokes and smiles. Playful quips and jabs at each other (“You keep your tail away from my mixer Chat Noir!” “Are you ever going to let that go!?”). Sparkling eyes that danced as she teased him, and the faintest blush and eye rolls as he teased her back. Scrunching her nose at his puns, and threatening him with spoons.

As she told him about the latest project Jagged Stone had asked her for (a waist coat for Fang, because why not apparently) with wild hand gestures that splashed water from the washing up onto the floor and exaggerated eye rolls, completely relaxed with him, he started to think again just how different she was around each of his sides. Not just her smiles, but her whole attitude. And he’d known that, he really had. But he hadn’t thought about it too hard since he’d first started to hang out with her as Chat, and then tried to get these reactions as Adrien only to have her dissolve in to a stuttering, rambling mess who ran away to cling to Alya. So he hadn’t tried again, confused but happy to take what he could get from her.

She wasn’t even this relaxed around Alya, he now realised. Which was a shock to be honest, because why would she be more relaxed around him, a practical stranger who could be anyone behind the mask, than her own best friend?

“Hello? Earth to Chat? You ok?”

He looked up from the bowl he was drying to meet her eyes, the slight furrow between them showing her concern.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m ok, just thinking.”

“Anything I can help with? A problem shared is a problem halved and all that. Unless it’s identity stuff of course.”

He snorted. She was almost as bad as his Lady about him keeping his identity a secret. It was no wonder they got on so well.

“Hmm. It’s more your civilian life to be honest.”

She flinched. Which was odd.

“I, what? I’m a civilian all the time, all of my life is civilian! What are you on about? Ahahah.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and watched as she grew more flustered and wouldn’t look at him.

“Marinette. You regularly talk to Ladybug, I’ve heard the way Rena and Carapace talk to you, I know Chloe has visited you as Queen Bee, and I’m currently standing in your kitchen drying up after cooking with you. At least part of your life is most definitely not civilian.”

“Oh, right, yes. You make excellent points,” she stammered, turning back to the washing up and practically diving back in, moving things around frantically and splashing even more water to the floor- and his boots. He flicked it off at her legs, causing her to squeak and pout at him. But at least she met his eyes.

“It’s not that I’m complaining,” he started slowly, “but I’m wondering what changed?”

“Huh?”

“Why am I now allowed to know who mystery boy is?”

She stared at him blankly, blinking and adorably confused.

“In the two years I’ve been hanging out with you, not once have you told me your mystery crush’s name. I always thought it was Luka to be honest.”

“I… what? I never told you? Really?”

“Nope. Not once. You didn’t mention it with Glaciator, when I poured my heart out about Ladybug, and I’m pretty sure I asked a few times after as well. And I saw you with Luka when Frozer happened, so I always just assumed.”

“But, but you’ve seen all the posters on my walls!”

“Yes, and you’re a fan of his father’s fashion lines.”

“Really? You bought that?”

Chats mouth worked for a few moments before he snapped it shut and pouted. Because yes. He had. And now he felt dumb.

“Don’t worry Chat. Adrien bought it too.”

Yeah, there’s a reason for that, he thought sulkily as she dried off her hands and reached over to scratch between his human and cat ear. He leant in to the touch as his eyes slid shut, slumping against the counter as he allowed her to comfort him.

“Well, at least you’re both pretty.”

His eyes snapped open again to find her standing in front of him, wide innocent eyes betrayed by the smirk twitching at the corner of her lips.

He pushed himself up again so he towered over her and opened his mouth to snark at her, but she’d pulled her hand free of his hair and taken a step back when he straightened and stood directly in the puddle of water she’d made earlier.

She yelped as her foot flew out from under her, and she started to tip backwards, hands starting to flail wildly. His own hands shot out before he could think and he grabbed her by the arms, tugging her forward against his chest and wrapping himself around her tight.

That could have been bad! No more messing around in the kitchen, he thought to himself as his heart pounded and he gasped in to her hair. She might have fallen sideways on to the edge of the oven and knocked herself out, or gone the other way on to a chair, or her arms could have caught the fridge door and pulled that down on top of her, or…

He felt her arms on his back start to stroke gently up and down, and finally registered her making soothing noises. When had she started hugging him? He pulled back slightly from where he’d pressed his face against her hair and met her eyes. Bright blue slightly panicked eyes that stood out against the slight red high in her cheeks. Which poked at something in his brain. Something important.

Kind of like how the feel of her in his arms like this felt really familiar somehow, but also not. It wasn’t the same as when they curled up on her balcony chair together, or her chaise in her room, or when he sat next to her on the sofa and they watched movies. It wasn’t like the friendly comfort of relaxing next to each other. It was more like…

She rolled her shoulders and wriggled a bit and he flinched, immediately loosening his grip on her and pulling back slightly.

“You ok? I didn’t hurt you did I?” he started, running his hands back down her arms to where he’d grabbed her and she sighed at him, and he glanced back up to catch her rolling her eyes.

“I’m fine. I’ve fallen over plenty of times before with no problems, stop fussing.”

And she was right. She had. He’d watched her fall over and get scrapes and hit on the head and bumped into. So why was it different now?

“And to answer your question, I’m sorry,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. “I honestly thought you already knew. I don’t think I’ve been subtle about it over the years, with all the schemes to get him to notice me.”

“Schemes? Wait, is this related to your screw up comment last night?”

“Ah. Yeah.” She sighed and thumped her head against his shoulder, just for a moment because the timer went off for the next stage of the cookies and she was pushing herself away and smiling crookedly at him.

“C’mon Kitty. Next step is rolling the dough out and layering them together, and then they have to go back in the fridge.”

He looked after her, letting his hands fall to his sides as she moved away. “Seriously? You’re going to leave it at that? You’re not going to tell me all the ways you tried to get his attention?”

Because, as was becoming a regular thought now, what exactly had he missed?!

“You already have plenty of reasons to tease me right now, I don’t feel like giving you more.” She laughed at the face he pulled, stepping over the water this time to get to the fridge, grabbing the roll of kitchen towel from the side as she went and throwing it at him.

He bent down to mop up the spill as she got the dough out and set it on the counter, then he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his face against her stomach.

“Pleeeeeeeeeease,” he dragged out, looking up at her through his hair and making his eyes as big as possible as he fluttered his lashes at her. “Pretty please? With cherries and cream and however much of that brocade you were looking at last week on top?”

She groaned and looked up at the ceiling and he grinned smugly, knowing he’d won.

“Fine.”

-~-

Start - Next Chapter

[lesbianmonsterlover]

Waterfalls and Whirlpools (3)

Erin is pretty sure she’s going nuts, but at least the old school librarian is a peach who will take her mind off of it.

---

Erin’s sleep is fitful and filled with dreams of death and smoke, she isn’t sure from where.  She supposes her nightmares are another manifestation of her anxiety, and she’s concerned about whether she’s managed somehow to alienate the stranger on the other side of that book (or her second personality, but she’s not going to dwell on that possibility any longer than is absolutely necessary).  She’s never been great with social interaction, although somehow she feels as though she’s gotten worse and not better as the years have passed.  

Monday mornings have never been her favorite, even when she isn’t required to get up and head into work on that particular day it’s important to keep some semblance of a schedule.  So rolling out of bed at noon, as would be her preferred way to start the day, was out of the question.  No, instead she’s for whatever reason awake at eight in the morning without any real plans for the day other than “avoid the sun” after getting badly sunburned yesterday being so absorbed in the ‘conversation’ in the journal.

Pointedly ignoring the journal for now though Erin pads barefoot to the kitchen and starts on breakfast.  Still stinging a little from being abandoned mid-conversation, a feeling she’s a little too used to from the normal types of social interaction, she begins on some pancake batter.  Her figure and her therapist would tell you her relationship with food was not necessarily the healthiest.  Growing up, food had always been a source of comfort where there was otherwise a lack of support.  No friends?  Don’t worry, there’s still cake!  That habit persisted into adulthood, where we find her now making pancakes instead of confronting the uncomfortable reality of her most recent meaningful social interaction.  Let’s also ignore that talking through a book was her most recent meaningful social interaction, shall we?

As the griddle starts to heat up and the butter on it foams she pours the batter on in neat circles, humming to herself.  Pancakes used to be a family ritual, and it sends a bittersweet pang through her heart.  It’s warm and comforting to be sure, but she misses her father now more than ever.  A tall and imposing looking man, with a thick beard and heavy brow, but whose blue eyes would sparkle with joy and laughter whenever looking at her or her mother.  With a sigh Erin forces her attention back to the pancakes, finally ready to flip, and finds them perfectly golden brown on the first side.  “Thanks, daddy.”  She mumbles into the air, a soft sad smile on her face. 

It takes a few minutes to produce a tidy stack of pancakes and arrange them, appropriately buttered and stacked, onto a plate.  She takes the plate and silverware, along with a bottle of maple syrup, and sits cross legged in front of her coffee table on the soft carpet of the living room.  The TV is switched on and browsing through her choices she settles on some cartoon reruns and tunes out.  The pancakes are drowned in syrup, and the first perfectly fluffy bite makes her sigh in satisfaction.  By the time they’re gone she feels a little more awake and a little better.  She places the dishes into the sink to wash later, and as she moves to check the journal now that she feels a bit better she’s interrupted by her ringing phone.  The screen lights up with a local contact number and a name that seems familiar to some back portion of her brain.  “Hello?”

“Ah, hello dear!  It’s Catherine Forrester, I was hoping you could join me at the school today so we can begin going over the transition.  Summer school is in session so I thought it would be a good opportunity to get you used to the building before you start going it alone in the fall.”  Erin is pacing back and forth in front of the large window that overlooks the backyard.  

“Of course, Mrs. Forrester.  That sounds great, what time would you like me there?”  Chewing on the side of her thumb she listens to the older woman prattle on about the summer school session for a few minutes until she finally gets to the information Erin needed.

“So if you could come by around noon, while the kids are busy with lunch, that would be easiest I think.”  Erin hums in agreement before answering.

“Yes, of course, that makes total sense.  I’ll be there, I’m very excited to get started.”  Mrs. Forrester chirps back that she’s excited to meet Erin and to drive safely.  The journal is almost completely forgotten as Erin checks the clock only to see that it’s nearly eleven already.  With a groan of annoyance “why couldn’t she have called me just a little earlier…” Erin heads to the bathroom to shower, thankful that the water heater is full.  It only takes a minute for the water to get to a blessedly warm temperature, the bathroom beginning to fill with a light misting of steam, the mirrors slowly fogging up from the bottom.  

Erin showers as quickly as she can, although with the thick red curls on her head it still always takes longer than she’d like.  Once out she runs a towel through her hair and then a comb before pinning it up and out of the way, it’s quicker than trying to dry it.  Pawing through her closet she curses at herself for not doing laundry yet, as that green shirt dress would have been perfect.  Instead she settles for a slightly more structured dress in a pale blue cotton with little white flowers.  She smudges on enough makeup to look professional and put together, while hating that she has to do so in the first place, and by the time she’s out the door with her shoes on she’s left with ten minutes to make the drive. 

The school is situated on a plot of land just outside of the main town, a huge expanse of dedicated sports fields behind the quaint one-floor complex makes up a large portion of the footprint.  The school itself is small, but encompasses k-12.  Considering how small the town itself is the class sizes are tiny, even considering the surrounding small towns bus their kids here.  The parking lot has a smattering of cars in it, and Erin finds a shady patch to pull her car into before easing into park and pulling down the vanity mirror.  

A deep breath, in and out, repeated a few times, helps her feel ready.  “Alright, you know what you’re doing, you’re ready for this.”  Nodding to herself she flips the mirror up and grabs her bag before exiting the car and making the long walk to the front doors of the school.  The library is easy to find with the verbal directions Mrs. Forrester had given, and it’s 11:58 when Erin walks through the library doors. 

“Ah, Ms. Curett, thank you for joining me on such short notice!  Oh you look lovely.”  Erin is greeted with an enthusiastic embrace and a kiss on each cheek from the shorter older woman.  Catherine Forrester is a spry woman of nearly ninety.  At eighty seven you’d have thought she would be at home being doted on by her family, but she loved working too much to give it up.  Now though, she’s feeling her age a little too much.  It was getting harder and harder to chase after the children and keep order, especially when it came to the troublemakers of the school: ie those who would be forced to come back for summer school.  She’s short and slight, with a mane of long white hair she’s left loose hanging down her back.  Her face is wrinkled with laugh lines, the sign of a happy and full life, and her knobby hands are covered in silver rings and bracelets.  She’s dressed in long flowing skirts and blouses and looks like she spent her twenties and thirties as a hippie, and just never gave it up.  

Erin is mesmerized momentarily by the way her bracelets jingle when she walks, and the way the light catches her ice white hair.  Mrs. Forrester is beautiful in a very human way, and the energy she exudes says she wants everyone to feel the same.  It’s comforting for Erin, so she follows the older woman without question and listens to her chatter on happily about the library, the children, the town, her family.  Erin was happy to be a friendly ear, and by the time they’re getting ready to go home she’s learned very little about her duties but everything about her newest friend.  “School starts at nine tomorrow, sweetheart, so why don’t you meet me here at half past eight and we’ll share coffee and some secrets.”  The older woman pats Erin’s arm and gives her a wink, making Erin giggle and rub her slim shoulder. 

“That sounds great, it’s a date.  I’ll bring donuts if you bring that coffee you were telling me about roasting.”  The drive home is happy, and Erin makes a detour to the grocery store in town to pick up ingredients to make her own donuts.  If Mrs. Forrester is going to be roasting and grinding her own coffee, then Erin can make her own donuts.  “I’ve got my starter at home, and if I get up early I can fry them in the morning so they’re fresh…”  The plan is set, sourdough donuts.  Maybe with some cinnamon sugar.  

The dough is fairly quick to come together in the mixer with the dough hook, way too lazy to hand knead a sticky mess like this.  It goes in the fridge and the kitchen gets cleaned and readied ahead of tomorrow.  Dinner is easy leftovers, and it’s nearly nine by the time Erin even considers the journal again, sitting heavily in her desk chair staring down at it.  “I mean, I guess I could take a peek, if there’s nothing there, I’ll put it on my bookshelf and forget about it.”  Nodding to herself she sits before the book again and hesitantly opens it.  

She isn’t sure what she’s expecting.  Part of her is very much hoping that when she opens the journal this will have all been some strange fever dream, and the journal will show nothing but her entries until she maybe dozed off outside.  Considering she hasn’t looked at the book since she put it back into her pack yesterday it’s a real possibility.  She isn’t that lucky though, and when she opens the book to the last used page she’s confronted with a new message that she knows she didn’t write.

Erin doesn’t even notice she’s hyperventilating until she pushes back and tries to stand, going lightheaded and dizzy so quickly she’s forced to sit again.  “Focus on your breath, focus on your breath…”  She’s repeating directions from her therapist, counting in and out to five.  She grounds her feet to the floor, feeling her connection to the house, she focuses on her weight in the chair, the feeling of the fabric, in one two three four five, out one two three four five.  It takes a few minutes, but she opens her eyes and feels a little better.  

“This doesn’t make any sense.”  Erin is singing to herself tunelessly, a habit she picked up from her mother as a child.  “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the actual actual fuck.”  She pulls her hair down from its updo to run her fingers through her curls, a comforting nervous habit.  She reads and re-reads the conversation from yesterday.  “Okay, logically, either I’m going nuts which isn’t a conclusion I’m willing to reach at the moment, or...or this is some kind of...kind of...new...technology?”  She peters off at the end, voice high pitched and strained.  “Or magic is real, which I think ties back into the whole I’m nuts thing…”  She rests her head heavily against the edge of her desk, sighing gustily into her lap.  “Okay, so, going nuts it is I guess.  I already talk to myself I mean what’s one more thing.”

Erin sits up and rubs at her forehead, looking down at the open page that’s teasing her with possibilities.  “If magic is real, then maybe I’m actually talking to someone from some weird fucking fantasy country?  Should I just...run with this?”  She considers the options, but something inside her tells her not to just shelve the book.  “I guess I’m really going to run with this…”  She knew even as she was having her inner tantrum what the answer was going to be, there’s no way she could ignore this.  Growing up reading fantasy novels allows you to bring some sense of childlike hope and wonder at the world into your adult life. 

“If this is actually happening, then there’s no way I can let this pass me by.”  She nods in resolve and carefully re-reads the conversation on the page with a suspension of disbelief that has allowed her to enjoy many a piece of media.  The soft smile that overcomes her face as she reads the last message is at the mental image of whoever was on the other side falling asleep over the page, an action Erin herself has taken many times when she’s been too engrossed in whatever she was doing to properly go to bed.  

Ash, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you, I was called into work on short notice this morning.  If you’d like to talk and learn about my world I would love to teach you, because I would also love to learn about your world.  Your world sounds nothing like mine, bandits especially aren’t a problem where I am.  If you’re willing to teach me about Auren I would love to tell you what I can about the US and the world.  I hope your emergency is easily handled, or at least safely handled.  Good luck, and stay safe. 

She waits a few minutes, staring at the page, but no message appears in return.  “Of course not, even if this is real, which I’m not saying it is but I’m not saying it’s not, but even if it is real there’s so reason whoever’s on the other side is sitting staring at the page waiting for my message.  They have their own things to do.”  She nods to herself and leaves the book open on her desk.  “I’ll come check back before I go to sleep.”  

Erin has every intention of doing just that, but when she falls asleep to an old Disney movie on her worn couch she doesn’t have the chance.  Waking heavily around five in the morning she groans, the imprint of the couch cushions on her cheek stinging as she lifts her head and blearily eyes the bright light of her television.  She paws for the controller to switch it off, and rolls herself off the couch to wander into her bedroom, passing by her desk with the journal on it.  She’s suddenly awake though as her eyes glance over the page to show another message beneath the one she scrawled last night. 

[minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong]

Sweet Dreams Chapter Two

Lucid dreaming: The process of being aware that one is dreaming. Some researchers believe that in lucid dreaming, the individual may be able to change the outcome of the dream or control their degree of participation in the imaginary (dream) environment.

Description: Lee Eunbyul has been plagued with hellish nightmares since she was a child. Not the sort of nightmares you may be familiar with. There are no monsters to evade, no serial killers to outrun, no auditoriums of classmates in front of whom to stand naked. Instead there is just…darkness. Endless darkness. With professional help, the dreams come less frequently. But after moving away from home to live with her sister, Eunbyul’s nightmare returns, only this time it’s different. This time…she’s not alone.

What would you do if you had the chance to change the outcome of not only your dreams, but your life?

Genre: Romance, Drama, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn

Pairing: Namjoon x (f) OC

Word Count: 7.3k

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Producer!Namjoon, Bookstore Clerk!Seokjin, Potter!Jimin, Producer!Yoongi, Dancer!Hoseok

Warnings: Frequent mentions of mental illness, infrequent swearing and mentions of alcohol

A/N: Hello! I’m trying out links for this chapter to see if Tumblr eats it, since I don’t know if links are working now. But anyway, here’s chapter two! Thank you guys for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please don’t be shy and send feedback, critique, questions, theories, and comments my way. I’ll be sure to respond to all asks I receive within a day of receiving them!

And again, if you want to follow my Twitter, my username is @/plzpunchmebts. I’m super active over there and hopefully in the future I’ll do some livestreams/chats with you all!

- Mercury

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Namjoon

I rubbed my eyes as the breaking morning light filtered in through the swaying curtains beside my bed. Sighing, I pushed myself up onto my forearms, then onto my legs, then onto my feet. I padded over to the window, stifling a yawn, and grabbed the frame. I’d left the thing open all night, having fallen asleep too suddenly to remember to close it properly, and now mosquitos flew in lopsided circles around my lamp. Also left on overnight. I groaned and pulled the window shut, shooing the mosquitos with squinted eyes. I checked the clock on my black wall. 4:03 AM.

Quietly, I followed the scent of coffee and sauntered out into the living room where Yoongi sat, legs crossed on the couch, flipping through a book on Greek mythology with one hand and holding a mug in the other.

“Morning,” I said, like every morning.

“Mm,” he replied, like every morning.

I suspected Yoongi hadn’t even bothered to go to sleep, and the purplish bags beneath his eyes didn’t help. The apartment was spotless as usual. Yoongi wasn’t one to let mess pile up, and I was grateful at least for that. What he lacked in socializing, he made up for in peace and cleanliness. I slipped along the cool wood floor and wandered into the kitchen, pouring myself a generous cup of coffee from the pot Yoongi had left on.

“Crazy dream?” asked Yoongi. I found the heart of his question in the words he didn’t say. You never wake up before noon. You okay?

I hummed and settled down at the table, running my finger along the polished trim. Everything in this apartment was pristine, lined with precision and placed with care. That’s how Yoongi was. Even before we met at his studio, he struck me as the diligent type.

I guess I felt like I could learn something from someone like him.

With a sigh I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t remember.”

“Hm,” said Yoongi with a gruff cough, pausing to flip the page in his book.

And that was that. With a few words exchanged between us, I was left to watch the morning sun arc across the blemishes sky outside the wall of windows facing the ocean. I was left to think.

Sometimes I wished he was more talkative…

The bus rattled down the sun-drenched street and I watched buildings pass by in silence. Normally, I’d have worn headphones but at Yoongi’s request, I’d left them behind so he could work on a beat at home. I rested my head against the window and shut my eyes with a heavy sigh. Why don’t you just talk to him? Those were the words replaying in my mind. Hoseok always was startlingly astute, in an oblivious sort of way. Of course, my friend of twenty years could say something so blasé like that without knowing what it meant for me. Tell him you wanna write music.

Just tell him.

A pang rang through the bus, signaling the approach of my stop, and I gathered my backpack and cell phone, standing with my hand on the rail overhead. “Ah, sorry,” I mumbled as an older woman stood beside me, stumbling with the unsteady stall of the bus.

She turned to me with a weathered smile and patted my arm. “Thank you,” she said, gently sliding down the aisle with both arms swung out as if she could fall over at any moment.

I watched her, uneasy, as she made her way to the exit. But as she exited, someone else entered and in their haste, they brushed a shoulder against the old woman’s chest, knocking her back slightly. I jumped, rushing to catch up to her, as she grabbed hold of the rail beside the exit. I placed a hand on her forearm to steady her, and again she offered a smile.

“Hey,” I shouted, turning to see the perpetrator was staring at the scene, eyes covered with a ball cap, short, curling black hair sprouting from underneath.

Upon closer inspection, the hapless bus-rider was a young girl, although with her face downturned it was hard to tell much about her beside her unimposing height. I scanned her from head to toe. Narrow shoulders, drowning in a shirt three sizes too big, shorts just barely visible underneath the hem, tanned legs and dirty tennis shoes. But my eyes lingered on her hands. Small, balled into fists, her index fingers were digging into the skin of her thumbs, picking as she stared at the old woman in the exit.

“I-,” she began, and her voice was almost too soft to hear over the engine.

“You gonna pay?” asked the bus driver, eyeing her impatiently.

The girl jumped and turned to him, swiping her pass and shuffling with her shoulders pinched and her head down until she found an empty spot. The spot I’d taken before. I sighed and stepped down toward the woman, offering my arm to help her out onto the street.

“Oh thank you, son,” she said once the both of us were safely on the sidewalk.

Sparing no time, the bus sped off down the road. I watched it for half a second before returning my attention to the woman with a smile. “Don’t worry about it,” I said, bowing. “Sorry about that,” I added, and I wasn’t sure why I apologized for that stranger. It wasn’t my apology to make, anyway.

She shook her head. “No, that’s alright,” she said with a simple smile before turning on her heel and waving goodbye. “Take care, sweetheart!”

I returned the smile along with the wave, but something wasn’t sitting quite right with me. As I turned on my heel towards the studio a block down, it hit me.

That girl on the bus was oddly familiar.

“How’s the project coming along?” asked Jisoo as he stood over my shoulder, gazing at the monitor with his specs sliding down the bridge of his nose.

I cleared my throat and nodded. “It’s good. The music will be automatically triggered when the player walks past this line, so I made sure to line it up properly,” I said, pointing with an index finger at the screen.

Sound design in video games was laborious work, and even more so when the sound is music. Footsteps, fighting noises, slashing sounds: those could be left to the programmers without a second thought. But music? That was the sort of thing that had to be implemented by somebody who understood dramatic tension, timing, placement. Of course, should the programmers decide they don’t need the help of an indie commercial freelance company for their music design, they could probably do a great job. But contracting us was a convenient way to take nonessential work and pass it to someone qualified to handle it.

In my case, overqualified.

“Good,” said Jisoo, but it was clear he was only half-listening as he stirred his coffee with a grimace. “That scene gonna be ready by tomorrow?”

“I mean…,” I began. It was the first I’d heard of such a short deadline. Quietly, I settled my nerves and met Jisoo’s eyes through the glare of his glasses. “Sure,” I said, reluctant.

His face split in a smile, wrinkles around his lips deepening as he ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Great,” he said, patting my shoulder once. “We’re counting on you, Joon.”

Joon.

I swallowed hard and cleared my throat, turning back to my computer with a tense smile. “I’ll get to it then,” I said as he gave me a thumbs up and meandered down the hallway, out of my tiny, shared office.

I sighed, resting my cheek in my hand, and stared at the screen. Tiny characters idled in a wide, green field, awaiting my command to test if I’d placed the song correctly. I already knew I had. Of course, I should have been grateful to have a job in the first place. Albeit unfulfilling, the work gave me a steady income and despite the well of disappointment in my chest whenever Yoongi left to work in his own studio with real musical artists, I shouldn’t have been sighing all the time.

“Yikes,” said Jungkook from beside me, a young programmer who’d snagged the job at our company straight out of college.

He eyed me from his desk, only feet away from mine, and pushed his headphones back to rest against his collarbone. He was still a kid, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to work on games for the rest of his life. Really, working with a producing company was probably the best option for him. And every day you could see it in the way he moved that he was passionate. His round, inquisitive eyes were always landing on something new on his monitor, nimble fingers always typing away.

I doubted the kid had ever been apathetic about anything in his life.

“Yeah,” I breathed, glancing out the window to my right. Fresh sunlight poured in from outside. A fine day…

“You really gonna get it done in time?” he asked, refocusing on his screen as he popped a convenience store sausage in his mouth. He chewed on it, never looking away from the monitor, eyes alight.

I shrugged and leaned back in my chair. “Guess I gotta,” I said, still watching the day. In the distance, just below the horizon, I watched the train tracks as the afternoon train chugged by, windows glinting in the light. “It’s a crime to be inside on a day like this, though,” I remarked with a sigh.

Jungkook chuckled. “That’s what old people say,” he said, still munching.

I rolled my eyes and propped my headphones back up against my ears. “Everyone seems old to you,” I said. “Because you’re still a baby.”

Jungkook furrowed his brow and shot me a petulant look. “I’m a grown man.”

I chuckled and nodded, waving my hand to dismiss him. “Sure thing, big guy,” I said, continuing to set the music trigger just so.

The evening sun had long descended by the time my feet hit the pavement outside, and my hands and mind were exhausted. I wrung my wrists a little as I sighed into the nighttime air. The city was quiet, quieter than Seoul at any rate, and as I meandered toward the bus stop the simple sound of my cell phone ringing had me jumping. I fumbled with the phone for a moment as I fished it from my back pocket and slowly peered down at it.

Hani, displayed the screen and I raised my brows.

“Hello?” I asked as a white hatchback sped past, kicking up dirt on the street.

“Joonie,” she whined, and I could tell she was drunk. “I miss you.”

I gripped the bridge of my nose and nodded once, shutting my eyes against the yellow glow of the streetlamp overhead. “Uh-huh…”

“Come get me?”

I felt my chest constrict just a little. My mistake for answering in the first place. My mistake like always. “Where are you?” I asked carefully.

She mumbled something, words slurring together, before returning her attention to our phone call. “I’m at that bar by the beach. The pretty one.”

I knew the one. Sighing, I nodded. “Be there in ten,” I said, not awaiting a response as I pocketed the phone and began jogging down an alleyway, following a straight path to the shoreline.

Hani was right about one thing, anyway. The bar was pretty. In the summertime, when the air is fine and the clouds don’t linger too long, the beachside bar opens its windowed doors and extends its seating to the patio, right along the sand. The entrance was nestled deep beneath a canopy of light, sun-bleached wood beams and curling greenery, twinkling lights glowing on strings that wrapped around the entire patio.

Didn’t need to be a genius to know where she was. Quietly, I maneuvered around dancing bar patrons milling about in the gaps between tables and lounge chairs and made my way inside. The interior was dark. Not my style, really. But Hani always liked it here, which meant I spent plenty of drunk nights here. I approached the bar on the far wall and that was when I saw her.

Back on display from the low cut of her black dress, her brown hair waved over one slender shoulder and I saw her smile in profile. Perfect teeth, full cheeks rosy with alcohol and youth, eyes half-shut as she slapped a man’s arm. Gently, I approached her from behind and placed a hand on the small of her back, creating a wall between her and the man beside her. Her bright eyes landed on me and her smile went wider. She laughed, a loud, reverberating sound that pierced my ears even over the bumping music. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around my shoulders and held tight, standing to her feet.

“You’re smashed,” I remarked as I smelled the alcohol on her breath.

She giggled, running her fingers along the skin of my neck. “Hm…,” she mumbled, eyes shut as she swayed in front of me. “Let’s go walk on the beach.”

I placed my hands on her upper arms and guided her hands back to her sides, fixing her with a pointed look. “No, Hani we’ve gotta get you home-,”

“I wanna walk!” she shouted, the famous Hani pout on her ruby lips.

I swallowed hard. “No-,”

“I’m walking with or without you.”

And with that, she swung around in a grand circle and, with crossed arms, stomped across the bar and onto the patio where she paused, back still turned, and waited for me. Of course, she didn’t mean it. She just wanted me to go with her. And she knew how to bend me to her will. She always did.

I sighed, pressing my index fingers firmly against my temples. I didn’t need this today. Or any day, really. But as I opened my eyes I saw her peering at me over the slope of her shoulder and was powerless once again. Wordlessly, I rolled my eyes and followed behind her as she giggled and led the way out onto the sand.

It only took her a few steps to remove her strappy heels and fan her long hair out behind her with a huff. “Too hot,” she mumbled, adjusting the strap of her silk dress. “I’d go naked if I thought you wouldn’t hate me for it,” she teased with a glance my way and a cheeky grin.

“I wouldn’t hate you for something you did while you were drunk,” I said, crossing my arms as I matched her slow, stumbling pace.

The beach was serene, only a few people wandering through the sand. We walked parallel to the crashing, navy blue waves and each step took us further and further from the businesses lining the north side of the beach. We were getting close. Just around that cliffside, if we clung to the rocks, we’d emerge on the other side. All alone there.

“Joon?” she asked, staring up at me with round eyes.

“Hm?”

“Did you hear anything I said?” she asked, furrowing her dark brow.

I clamped my mouth shut and let my eyes fall to my feet on the sand. “I…sorry,” I said with a sigh.

“We’re almost there, aren’t we?” she asked with a nod. “I’ll forgive you this time because we’re almost there.”

I inhaled sharply through my nose and turned my eyes toward her. She was bathed in silver moonlight, fair skin glowing. Beautiful. “Why were you out drinking?”

“Am I not allowed?” she asked with a smirk.

I sighed. “It’s a weekday, Hani.”

“And I don’t have work tomorrow so what’s the harm?” She groaned and shook out her hands with a disgruntled huff. “You’re so stiff. This is why I broke up with you.”

There it was. “Hani, you need to go home.”

“And you never fight back,” she mumbled. “Making me the bad guy for saying anything in the first place.” She examined her hand for a moment, pouting.

“I don’t think it’s good for us to keep seeing each other,” I said carefully, choosing my words with care. I watched her expression go from sulky to petulant in a blink. She turned to me, eyes sharp. “It’s not healthy.”

She scoffed. “Why not?” she asked. “We were friends before we started dating, weren’t we? Why can’t we be friends now?”

“Because I don’t see you as just a friend and I think you know that,” I said, scanning her.

She opened and closed her mouth like a hinge before settling on closed and turning her head toward the shoreline. She stopped walking, crossed her arms, and watched the water for a long, silent moment.

“They’re finalizing it,” she said quietly as her eyes went distant. “My parents.”

I blinked at her. “They’re…really?”

She nodded. “That’s why I’m out tonight,” she said, voice soft against the water. “Mom called this morning and told me. Like it was nothing for her.”

“Hani…”

“Like it’s easy,” she said, wiping beneath her eyes with her free hand. “I texted Sooyoung but she didn’t reply. She saw it though. Just…didn’t reply.”

Gently, I came to rest beside her. I thought about wrapping an arm around her small, trembling shoulders and holding her close. But the intoxicating scent of her rosy perfume even from this distance was enough to keep that idea at bay. Instead, I simply rested my palm against her back and gave her a pat.

“I’m worried Sooyoung is gonna start up again,” she said with a sigh as she scratched her nose. “Like she did last year. I dunno…a divorce is a big deal for someone her age. She’s sixteen now, you know? Did I tell you that?” she asked, peeking up at me with glassy eyes.

“I know, Hani,” I said, smoothing my palm against her back.

She sniffled and nodded. “Yeah.” She sighed. “I don’t want her to be stupid like me.”

“You’re not stupid,” I said softly, shaking my head.

She smiled, but it wasn’t all there. “You don’t have to lie. I make stupid choices. Like tonight. Calling you. I just…I want her to grow up without making the mistakes I made, you know? I don’t want her to be twenty-four, drunk, crying on the beach with her ex-boyfriend.” She shook her head. “Or worse.”

“Stop thinking about all that, okay?” I said, patting her back once more before dropping my hand. “You need to get home.”

She eyed me sidelong, long eyelashes stained white against the moonlight. She was calmer now, more reasonable. Softly, she sighed and nodded her head. “Okay,” she said.

I nodded and turned back toward the bar, but I’d only taken one step when I felt her small hands wrap around my sides, clasping at my stomach. She rested her cheek against my back and my whole body went stiff. I felt her chest against me, her arms firm around my torso. And just like that, she held onto me. Like a life preserver, keeping her afloat. And it might have felt nice if it wasn’t so cruel.

“Thank you, Joonie,” she said softly against my back.

I cleared my throat and patted the top of her hand. “Let’s…let’s get you home.”

Hani: Thanks for everything tonight, Joonie.

I stared at my phone screen, holding it right above my face as I lie on my back in bed. I sighed and let my felt hand fall against the comforter, squinting at the phone. The message sat like an omen before me, like the promise of something I didn’t dare to hope for. I knew better than to respond. I knew better than to answer her call in the first place. I knew better than to meet her for coffee or dinner or movies after we ended. I knew better than to respond.

Namjoon: Of course. You know I still care about you.

Hani: I know. I care about you too :-)

I felt my chest constrict. How stupid. I slid my phone to rest on my nightstand and caught the time out the corner of my eye. 11:15. I had to be up early tomorrow to work on the game. Really, I should have been asleep an hour ago.

And here I was. Still stuck where I’ve always been.

I shook my head, giving my chest a few hard pats. If I thought about it too long, I’d end up moping. Instead, I simply stayed there, resting against the plush of my pillow, staring up at the ceiling until my heavy eyelids drifted shut and my breaths came more slowly.

Huh. I glanced around the depthless blackness and blinked a few times. Lucid dreaming again? I furrowed my brow and gave my jaw a scratch. Well, Hani hugging me probably did something weird to my brain. I stretched my torso this way and that, cracked my knuckles.

“Good timing,” I said to myself as I took a sweeping look around. “What’ll it be tonight?” A smile crept across my lips as I rubbed my palms together.

“Namjoon?”

I jumped, a scream escaping me from someplace deep in my chest, and whipped around in a half-circle towards the source of the voice. And that’s when I saw her. My eyes went wide, gaping, as the memories came flooding back in a wave that nearly bowled me over.

Standing in a baggy sleep shirt and too-big patterned pajama pants was the girl from the night before. Eunbyul. Her hair was a mess of black curls waving around her chin, furrowing her strong brow at me. Like the night before, she possessed a sad, quiet kind of charm. With slightly downturned eyes and clothes that looked like they might swallow her whole, she was the sort of person you wanted to take care of. The kind of person you worried didn't take care of themselves.

She pushed round-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose with a sniff and gave me a squint, face flushed. Had she been crying again? Was she scared again? She remembered my name, but did she remember everything else?

Suddenly, my heart was racing and so was my head and anxious questions began swirling around my mind, impossible to ignore. But when I spoke, none of them came out. Instead-

“You’re here again,” I said, unable to stop myself.

She blinked at me and for a long moment, we simply locked eyes. Neither said anything, perhaps both of us being too wary of the other to speak. But after an endless silence, she cracked a crooked smile, revealing bright teeth and a pleasant pinch in the apples of her cheeks.

She chuckled, rubbing the bare back of her neck. “Ah, uh…yeah. I guess,” she said, voice soft. She had a peculiar sort of voice, breathy, almost uncertain. I was certain I’d recognize it anywhere.

I opened and closed my jaw a few times, struggling for words, before simply settling for a laugh. “Well, uh…hi,” I said with a smile.

She returned it, albeit hesitantly. She crossed her arms over her torso and her eye went hazy with thought. “Say, did you remember the dream from last night?” she asked, brows knit as she met my eyes once more.

I shook my head. “Not until I saw you.”

She set her lips thin and fixed me with a serious upward glance. “Same here.”

“Huh…”

She paced around in the dark for a moment, mouth pursed in thought, pausing every few paces to adjust her glasses. “I wonder why…”

I chuckled. “Well,” I began, taking up the space beside her and matching her pace, stride for stride, “the memory is unreliable. Some people can’t remember their dreams at all unless they write them down right away.”

She halted her pacing and crossed her arms, looking up at me. “This feels different though, doesn’t it? Like…I don’t know, like the memory of the dream just got wiped completely.”

“If you’re gonna keep getting hung up on all the details that don’t make sense, you’re gonna be here all night,” I said, then laughed. “No pun intended.”

She scoffed. “How can you be so blasé about all this? Aren’t you…freaked out?” she asked, voice getting quieter as she lost her steam.

I shrugged. “None of this adds up anyway. So why not just enjoy it?” I asked, cocking a brow with a smile.

“It’s…it’s not that easy, you know,” she said, then sighed. “You’re…I guess you’re more adaptable than me.”

I paused a moment, scanning her. Her somber eyes were set on the nothing beneath her bare feet, arms wrapped around her torso like she was holding herself together at the seams. I swallowed hard and thought for a moment, focusing hard on a memory.

When I opened my eyes we were standing in the middle of an empty footpath, blooming trees and bushes creating a blanket that stretched on before us. Vibrant pinks, oranges, and yellows dotted the foliage that sloped downhill before us, like a mural. Down the path, a pond and a few traditional buildings. The sun was tempered by gently rolling clouds, and the sky felt limitless overhead.

And there were no people besides us.

After all, my brain couldn’t conjure all the faces I saw that day.

She blinked at the scenery around her, wind rustling through the trees, caressing the baby hairs along her temples. Her eyes went wide, lips forming an O, and her hands fell to her sides as she whirled around a few times, looking at the view from all angles.

“What-,” she began, then looked back at me, wild. “Namjoon, what’s all this?”

I smiled and stretched my arms out wide, embracing the abundance around me. “The Garden of Morning Calm,” I said. “I came here when I was a kid. Back when I lived in Sangdo-dong.”

“You lived there too?” she asked, brows high.

I nodded, taking a few easy steps down the path. She jogged to reach me, still staring up at me, imploring. “Yeah, when I was young. Anyway…I just…,” I began, feeling sheepish under her disarming gaze. I glanced away, toward the horizon line, and cleared my throat. “This place makes me feel calm, so I figured maybe it would do the same for you.”

She slowed down a little, watching me from behind for a moment before catching up once again. She stumbled a little over her pajama bottoms. “I-it does,” she said, catching herself before she tripped. She kept her eyes down, watching her feet carefully, as she found her pace beside me. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” I said with a sigh. “I know I must seem…kinda nonchalant about all this but….” I shrugged and took a deep breath of the fresh, autumn air. “I dunno. This place…it’s pretty incredible.”

“Funny,” she said with a soft chuckle. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve been terrified of this dream but…you’ve been enjoying it, huh?”

I smiled. “It’s like a little vacation from life, I guess,” I said, and I almost regretted it. Way to go, I thought with a cringe, saying something sad like that to a stranger…

But to my relief, she simply offered a pensive hum and a nod. “I never thought of it that way.”

I blinked at her, silhouetted against the fall foliage and vibrant sun, and saw in her expression nothing but a pensive quietude. Like I could have said anything she she wouldn’t have thought I was strange. I felt my cheeks warm a little, and cleared my throat.

“Up here is a gazebo,” I said, pointing up ahead.

She squinted down the path and smiled softly. “Nice,” she said.

I chuckled. “Those glasses…you weren’t wearing them last night,” I said, reaching out to guide them up her nose again. “The nose pads are too far apart.”

She jumped a little at my touch before settling and squaring a look at me. “Well, they’re old,” she said with a little purse of her lips, crossing her arms as we neared the gazebo. “I didn’t want to be a bother when I got them fitted, so I just said they were fine.”

She led the way inside, ducking her head just a little as she crossed the three-stepped threshold into the structure. Crawling greenery stretched out across the exterior, and some of the vines reached through the cracks in the ceiling, but it felt nice in the shade. Gently, she took a seat and exhaled, patting the tops of her pajamaed thighs. She glanced up at me as I stood in the center of the rounded room and raised her brows.

“You gonna sit?” she asked, taking a peek at the space beside her on the dark wood bench.

“Ah…sure.” I quickly joined her, aware of the slightly awkward space between us. Despite being in this dream together, we were strangers after all. What could we really talk about?

“I had an appointment today in Sangdo-dong,” she began, watching her bare toes. “With my therapist.”

“Therapist?” I asked, then shook my head. “Sorry, didn’t mean to pry.”

She chuckled. “Not like either of us will remember this in the morning anyway,” she said with a shrug. “But…yeah, a therapist.”

I inhaled fresh air and sighed slowly. I knew I shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t pry, but she was right anyway. What’s the use in holding back in a situation like this? “What for?”

“Anxiety,” she said with a sigh. “Since I was young. Before the dreams even.”

“Ah,” I said, nodding. I eyed her, careful not to say something insensitive, and saw again that thoughtful, distant look. “How did it go?”

“Not well.”

“Oh…”

“I told him I’ve been struggling trying to figure things out, and he told me I needed to spend more time thinking on it,” she said with a scoff. “Imagine that. Thinking more about something I think about all day.”

“What’re you struggling with?” I asked, and regretted it right after. Too far, definitely. She’d fix me with a glare and we wouldn’t speak anymore. She’d be rightfully put off.

“Trying to find something that makes me feel like a person,” she said with a single nod.

And with that, my heart rate slowed. Such a simple sentence, but it packed a punch. “I understand that,” I said.

She glanced at me. “How?”

“Well…sometimes it’s easy to get swept up in the swing of surviving and forget what it is that makes you feel alive,” I said, and against my will my mind returned to the beach last night, staring at the slope of Hani’s shoulder, her eyes glittering. I cleared my throat and leaned back.

She smiled. “Seems like you need to talk more than I do,” she said, raising her brows.

I swallowed hard and focused on my clasped hands. “Just…someone from my past.”

“You don’t have to be vague with me,” she said with a laugh. “Like I said, I won’t remember anyway.” She seemed…lighter tonight than she had before. Almost like something bobbing in the water, coming up for air and staying there, suspended.

“My ex,” I said, sighing. “She’s…she’s difficult.”

Eunbyul raised her brows. “You fighting?”

I smiled. “No, no. Nothing like that, just…we can’t seem to get a clean break, you know? Like…we can’t move on from being around each other. Even though it’s unhealthy,” I said, then shook my head. “I’m sure you get it.”

“I don’t,” she said, stretching her torso this way and that before settling and meeting my eyes, innocent. I furrowed my brow, and she maintained her gaze. “I’ve never dated.”

“Huh?” I asked, surprised.

She laughed. “I don’t really know how to interact with people,” she said with a nod. “Or maybe…I can interact if there’s no pressure. Like right now. If I don’t feel like I’m in the way or being a burden.” She waved her hands. “Anyway, tell me more so I can understand.”

I blinked at her, at the round, flushed apples of her cheeks, the flashing whites of her eyes as she turned her head to look at the trees swaying before us. “Um…,” I began, thinking. “Well…we’ve been friends for a long time. So breaking up was tricky, you know? What was our relationship supposed to be from then on? Did we go back to friends? Did we cut ties? Did we slowly distance ourselves?”

“Ah,” she said, nodding. “I see.”

“I think…for me, the healthiest option is to completely remove her from my life, you know? It’s no good for me to keep spending time with her.” I wrung my hands a little and sighed. “I can’t figure out where the boundaries are anymore.”

“Have you talked to her about it?” asked Eunbyul, poking her big toe against the wood floorboard.

“I…kinda.”

“Kinda isn’t really good enough,” she said, still poking, eyes transfixed on her foot, hands gripping the bench seat. “In relationships, you have to be explicit to avoid misunderstandings. Communication is the most important thing,” she said, then chuckled. “Although I’m not the authority on all that.” She paused her poking and met my eyes with a gentle, knowing smile. “If you don’t know where the boundaries are, you gotta place them yourself.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but my thoughts evaded me the longer she looked up at me, strands of waving hair falling behind her glasses, touching the tops of her eyes. It looked like she expected something from me. Not a response or a reaction, not really anything like that.

It seemed like all she expected was for me to understand her.

I nodded. “That’s…shockingly astute,” I said with a laugh, rubbing my jaw as I finally broke the tense eye contact.

She smiled and leaned back against the bench. “I wanna try showing you something,” she said, standing to her feet and padding gently toward the center of the gazebo. She turned to me. “Just…try to see it in my head?”

“See it, feel it, hear it, smell it,” I said, then smirked. “Taste it, if you can.”

She laughed and nodded. “I’ll…I’ll try tasting it then,” she said as she shut her eyes tight.

For a moment, nothing changed. Just the same gazebo, the same scent of damp wood and crisp air, the same sunlight stretching in shafts between branches. But after a few moments, I saw something on the horizon. The sky was bleeding from cerulean to navy blue, stretching slowly overhead. The scenery went fuzzy before disappearing entirely and emerging again, morphed. The geological features began to sharpen as Eunbyul simply stood there, eyes shut, a charming wrinkle between her brows as she concentrated. And, before I knew it, I was standing in the middle of a desert I didn’t recognize, midnight sky above and orange sand underfoot. I scanned the area and saw open space in every direction, rock stacks eroded over time standing erect around the horizon. In the sky was a portrait of stars, so many I couldn’t possibly count them, and small shrubby bushes punctured the iron-red ground as it extended endlessly.

Eunbyul opened her eyes and, without sparing a single moment, broke into an infectious grin that pulled her eyes nearly shut and exposed her canines. She turned around a few times before laughing and clapping her hands. “No way!” she exclaimed, and her voice echoed through the canyon.

I smiled. “What’s this place?” I asked.

She turned to me with a wild, breathless smile and I felt my heart kick up. Just a little. A warm desert wind swept through the valley and kicked up dust, playing with the ends of her dark hair. “I went camping once on a vacation to the US. With my family. This was my favorite night. Nobody around, just us,” she said with a nod, bending her neck so she could stare right at the sky. She pointed. “See all the constellations?”

I raised my brows and glanced up with her. Indeed, it seemed the stars, although innumerable, were positioned perfectly. I recognized the Big Dipper, dangling in the sky like it was pouring stars onto black and blue canvas of sky.

“Do you know a lot about constellations?” I asked.

“Gaeul taught me on this trip,” she said, grinning, then snapped her fingers and pointed at me. “Sorry, Gaeul is my sister.” She was still smiling like mad, and her eyes were alight for the first time since we met.

I nodded. “Tell me something about them,” I said, smiling gently as I sat down on the dusty earth.

She joined me, holding her knees close to her chest, and pointed at the sky. “That’s Ursa Major,” she said, and I followed her eyes to the big dipper. “The ladle is just part of the bigger constellation, you know? It’s supposed to look like a bear.” She laughed, and the sound was soft, almost like an exhale. “In Roman myths, it’s all about Jupiter and Callisto and jealousy and turning into bears, but I like the Korean myth better.”

“What’s that?” I asked, dropping my eyes from the sky to her.

“There was a widow who had seven sons, and became fond of a widower across the river. Her sons wanted to help her cross the water, so they each put down a stone for her to walk across. The mother didn’t know her sons put the rocks in the water. But she was grateful so she blessed the stones and when her sons died, they became stars,” she said, smiling so softly it was barely there. Just a tilt of her lips.

I watched her as she spoke, barely lit by the moon and the stars, eyes aglow. It was familiar, like before with Hani. But this felt decidedly different. Everything was different.

If only I could remember it in the morning…

“That’s a beautiful story,” I said with a smile.

She turned to me and nodded. “I think so too,” she said, then sighed and gave my shoulder a pat. “You’re a good person, Namjoon. I can tell.”

I chuckled. “And you’re not as bad at socializing as you think you are.”

She smirked. “I told you,” she began, leaning back on her palms with a sigh. “Low stakes make it easy to say what you want without being scared.”

“I wonder why we keep ending up here together,” I pondered idly.

She smiled. “You’re the one who said not to get hung up on the details that don’t make sense,” she said, then turned her head to look at the stars again.

“You seem awfully easygoing,” I remarked with a laugh.

She grinned and her eyes went small again. “I see what you mean now,” she said, sighing. “About this being like a vacation from life.”

I watched her for a moment before I felt something tugging. Just like before. And, from the way her eyes got round and her shoulders pinched, I was pretty sure Eunbyul felt it too. We locked gazes, neither one saying anything, and struggling against the pull in my chest, I reached out my hand, extending it toward her.

She blinked at it before, wordlessly, she took it in both of hers and shook it up and down. “Until next time,” she said with a serious look my way.

I nodded, letting my hand fall against the dirt. “Until next time.”

I awoke with heart palpitations. Blinking rapidly, I rubbed my face and patted down the sweat that had begun to dot my forehead. I glanced toward the clock on the wall. 4:03 again. Grumbling, I turned over onto my stomach and smashed my face against the pillows, yanking my blankets over my head.

“Stupid brain,” I mumbled into the sheets, exhaling long and slow.

I tried to force myself back to sleep, tried to will my brain to power down like an old desktop computer. I rolled onto my side, curling my legs up toward my chest. When that didn’t work, I thumped over onto my back once more and spread my arms wide, like I was physically begging for the embrace of unconsciousness. Long seconds ticked by, marked with the sound of my clock, always ticking like a metronome.

“Ugh,” I groaned, sitting upright with a frown. I glanced around the room and saw my phone still sitting on the charger. If I wasn’t getting back to sleep, the least I could do to sate my hyperactive brain was scroll mindlessly through Twitter.

I grabbed for the phone and unlocked it, but before I could tap the little blue app icon, I noticed a new text message in the bottom corner of the screen. I raised my brows and opened it. Sent at 2:39 AM.

Hani: Call me please.

Panic.

I jumped up and sat on my knees, typing her number in by heart. I pressed the phone to my ear and listened with bated breath to the dial tone. It was taunting me, every painfully slow drone and the endless pauses between. I counted five rings before they stopped altogether and I was met with nothing but radio silence.

“Hani?” I asked, frantic, breathless.

She sniffled on the other end and I collapsed against my bed with relief. “Hey.”

“Jesus, what’s wrong?” I asked, words stumbling into one another like a clumsy line.

“Sorry, it’s just…,” she began, then sniffled again. “It’s Sooyoung.”

“Fuck, Hani, is she alright? Is she safe?” I asked, heart hammering.

“Yeah, yeah she’s fine,” she said. “God, I’m so sorry. I keep doing this.”

“Hani what happened?”

She paused a moment before taking a shaky breath in. “She called me drunk.”

I was silent, just listening to the arrhythmic pattern of her breath. “Hani…”

“It’s fine, I called my folks and they found her in the basement. But…fuck, I dunno I got, like, a glimpse into her future,” she said, then paused. “And it looks a lot like mine.”

“Hani, are you alright?” I asked carefully, resting against the pillows with furrowed brows. “Have you slept?”

“Can’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Joonie,” she said with a sigh. “I just…Joon, could I…could I maybe come over? Watch a movie or something?”

I stiffened. Bad idea. Horrible, terrible, really bad idea. Blurring more lines, crossing more barriers…at this rate, I’d be heartbroken until the day I died. It wasn’t like I was her only friend. She’d always been popular, and even when we were dating she’d go to Joohee before she’d ever go to me with a problem. Why now did it seem like she needed me so profoundly?

If you don’t know where the boundaries are, you gotta place them yourself.

I felt my stomach pang a little. Where had I heard that? Gently, I patted my chest in the hopes of settling my heart down. I knew what the right decision was. It was painfully obvious to anyone that I couldn’t let her come over, let her cross the threshold and reenter my intimate space. I knew the implications.

I sighed and braced myself, holding the phone close against my hot cheek. I shut my eyes, ran a hand through my unruly hair, and nodded my head. “Um…,” I began, opening my eyes only halfway to stare with disappointment at the clock across from my bed. “Yeah, Hani. Of course.”

[carmenlire]

Chocolate Chip Pancakes

So, it’s day one of flufftober and I’m really going to try to post something every day for the month! I hope yall like this:)

Prompt: Breakfast

read on ao3

Hungover and pissed off with it, Magnus grumbles at the tinkling of the bell overhead as he opens the door to his favorite diner. It’s mid morning and Ragnor had woken him up less than an hour ago by pouring a glass of ice water over his head.

When he’d jolted upright, sputtering and disoriented, Ragnor had given him his best blank look.

“I’m hungry and it’s your turn to buy pancakes,” he’d said, as if this was a perfectly reasonable explanation.

Magnus had glared daggers at the back of his head but after flopping back down onto his bed, he’d reluctantly rolled out and stumbled to the bathroom. He’d gotten ready in record time, throwing on a university hoodie and pair of leggings, shoving his feet into a pair of tennis shoes and he’d followed as Ragnor had led them from their dorm to the corner diner across from campus.

It was open twenty four hours a day and catered to college students who lived on greasy burgers and somehow unhealthy salads. It had the best hangover breakfast Magnus had ever eaten and it was tradition to hit it up after a night out.

Magnus and Ragnor are the last ones to the table. Cat and Raphael are already at their regular booth in the back, pouring over the menu as though they don’t come here three times a week.

Ragnor sits next to Raphael, leaving Magnus to take the space next to Catarina. He doesn’t open his menu, just lays his head on crossed forearms and focuses on his breathing.

Fuck, he must’ve drank tequila last night. That’s the only liquor that ever leaves him so miserable the next day.

“I’m dying,” Magnus declares, voice muffled as he’s still resting against the table. He lets out a pathetic whimper for effect. Cat absently reaches over and pats him on the shoulder.

“With how much you drank last night, I’m surprised Ragnor was even able to wake you. Raphael and I were taking bets on whether or not you’d show this morning.”

Magnus looks up and sees Raphael staring at him dispassionately. “Do you know you recite limericks when you’re particularly wasted,” he asks. “I know you’re a lit major, but that’s too much even for you, Bane.”

Glaring, Magnus replies, “It’s not my fault that I have a superior intellect even when I’m blacked out. You should be so lucky.”

“Boys, boys,” Ragnor’s voice breaks through as he turns the page of his menu to the burger section. “It’s too early for this and I left out the best part of Magnus’s hungover morning.”

Cat looks intrigue as she leans towards him, resting her chin in a hand. “Do tell.”

Settling back in his seat, Ragnor gives Magnus a once over. “Magnus has admitted that he’s blacked out and you know what that means.” The three of them share a look that Magnus has seen a few too many times.

Oh, God.

“What did I do,” he asks the table, resigned to hear about last night’s exploits. That was part of the reason these breakfasts were tradition. It wasn’t just that the campus diner had greasy bacon and pancakes that could soak up remnants of alcohol like the most effective hangover cure. They had all been where Magnus is sitting now, listening in dread as the others told of the previous night’s exploits.

Admittedly, Magnus is in the hot seat a little more than the others.

“Between shot eleven and thirteen, you entered your dancing phase. Christ, we couldn’t get you off the dance floor--”

That damned bell above the door chimes as it opens and Magnus doesn’t hear whatever gap Raphael was going to fill in his murky memory from last night. Instead, he looks over at the door and his heart trips, his breath stutters, as the most stunning man Magnus has ever seen walks in, accompanied by a few other people.

He’s tall, classically handsome and adorably rumpled. He’s wearing a ragged rugby sweatshirt and sweatpants that hit just under the knee with those athletic sandals the jocks tend to favor. He looks sleepy yet hot enough to burn, with that stubble darkening a delicious jaw line.

Hangover forgotten, Magnus barely registers that he speaks aloud as he murmurs, “Who are you?”

He doesn’t give his friends a chance to ask questions as he rises to his feet. Adonis and Co. have just been seated when Magnus sidles up to their table.

“Hello,” he says, pleased when his voice doesn’t betray just how ghastly he was feeling just moments ago. “Who might you be, darling? I don’t believe that we’ve been formally introduced.”

The man looks up at him, startled at the sudden stranger, before the other two table mates look up and raise incredulous eyebrows.

Magnus ignores them, instead focusing on the god sitting in front of him. Magnus barely resists the urge to lick his lips. Who knew that Columbia was hiding such goods around campus?

He’s delighted as heat climbs up the man’s neck but he’s impressed when his voice is smooth and achingly dry. “I’m Alec,” he says, holding out a hand.

Magnus raises a brow at the tone. He makes it sound like Magnus should just know who he is. Inwardly, Magnus sighs. Please don’t let Alec be an insufferable bastard.

“Alec,” Magnus repeats, taking his hand. It’s a piss poor excuse for a handshake. Instead, Magnus just holds his hand, feeling callouses against his palm. He represses a shiver. “I’m Magnus.” He says, smiling invitingly.

“I know,” Alec says. He looks at Magnus, the bare edgings of a smirk curling his lips.

“Oh? You’ve caught me at a disadvantage, darling.” Magnus’s gaze darts between gorgeous hazel eyes and full lips and he’s insanely curious. He tries desperately to remember any time that they may have ran into each other but he's coming up infuriatingly blank. What does Alec know that he doesn’t?

His attention is even more rattled when he feels Alec’s thumb start sweeping along his thumb. Slow strokes that set every nerve ending firing.

“You told me tequila was your worst drink,” Alec says. “But that didn’t stop you from dancing with me until Pandemonium closed.”

Magnus’s breath catches. Damn him, one of these days he might just have to listen to his friends before checking out.

“We’ve met? Yesterday,” Magnus hesitantly offers, thinking of his damned hangover that was a direct result of too many shots of Jose Cuervo Silver.

“Last night-- Or, rather this morning,” Alec confirms.

“I can’t remember anything from last night,” Magnus admits.

Alec’s smile is easier, warmer, as he laughs. “I figured. Your friends-- Raggy?-- had to take you home when you refused to leave without another shot. You promised to call,” Alec murmurs slyly and Magnus closes his eyes.

He can just imagine what he said to Alec last night. He only called Ragnor by that abhorrent moniker when he was absolutely shitfaced. He hopes fervently that he didn't make an ass out of himself. Luckily, Alec doesn't look like he's yearning for an exit so Magnus stays put.

“Well, what luck of fate that we both decided to get breakfast here,” Magnus says brightly. He steps back as Alec moves out of the booth.

Magnus is tall but Alec is a goddamn giraffe it seems and Magnus has to tilt his head up, just a little, to meet his eyes.

Alec turns so that his breakfast companions can only see his back before murmuring, “And if you told me that you always get breakfast here after a night out?”

Magnus swallows, stepping closer to Alec. “You were hoping to run into me?”

Alec grins, biting his lip and successfully distracting Magnus for a second before he starts to speak again. “I mean, yeah. It’s not every guy that can dance like you do while simultaneously reciting medieval French limericks in the native language.”

“You know French?” Magnus takes a chance and runs a finger down Alec’s chest before resting his hand against his side. Alec doesn’t move away from the touch. Instead, Magnus swears he hears Alec’s breath catch.

“I particularly enjoyed the one about ham,” Alec says, devilishly smiling.

Magnus closes his eyes and lets his head fall to Alec’s shoulder. He groans. “Oh, God, that’s one of the worst ones,” he says plaintively.

“It certainly left an impression,” Alec replies.

Magnus lifts his head and stares at Alec for a moment. Alec returns his look with one of his own. The air feels charged and everything else falls away. It’s a dreadfully busy campus diner. There isn’t a spare seat in the house, the chatter is a dull roar and there’s constant shuffling and clanging of utensils.

Magnus doesn’t hear any of it. His attention is caught on Alec-- his smile, the warmth in his eyes that shouldn’t be there for a mere stranger, the way his blush hasn’t quite died down even after several minutes of conversation.

He takes a minute and something settles in his chest. He takes a breath.

“Would you like to join me for breakfast, darling? I promise I’m sober,” he teases. He refuses to acknowledge just how much he’s hanging onto Alec’s answer.

He doesn’t leave Magnus waiting.

“Yes,” Alec says simply. “I’m a little hungover and they have the best pancakes in the city.”

“Chocolate chip,” Magnus adds, agreeing.

Alec’s face lights up. “Chocolate chip,” he repeats softly.

Alec doesn’t let go of Magnus’s hand as they nab a small table by the door just as the waitress finishes clearing it. Magnus catches Catarina’s eye and shrugs. Everyone turns and mockingly glares at him but he just grins and waves back, unrepentant.

There was no way he was throwing away this chance.

The two of them stay at the diner until the sun starts to sink low in the sky. Hours have passed. Both of their respective tables had left ages ago with obnoxious goodbyes and Alec and Magnus have just been sitting at the table by the window, talking.

They talk about classes and Alec’s position as captain of the rugby team and Magnus’s role as editor of the school newspaper.

They talk about their travels and obscure French novels and hypothetical scenarios.

They hold hands more often than they don’t and share knowing smiles when one of them nudges the other with a foot.

It’s the best breakfast Magnus can remember having. He knows there’ll be hell to pay when he gets back to his dorm but he doesn’t care.

He can’t, not when he knows with everything he is that his life’s just changed irrevocably. He has a delightful, bubbling feeling that it's for the better.

[hysterialevi]

When the Devil Cries pt. 13

Author’s note: Time to go bounty hunting!

From Arthur’s POV

THE NEXT MORNING

CLEMENS POINT

Picking up on the scent of cooked meat, I gradually rose back into consciousness as my eyes fluttered open to the morning sunlight, revealing a scene I did not expect.

Not too far away from me, Eddie was roasting something over a newly-lit campfire as Bullet chewed on a clump o’ grass behind him, the two of them already wide-awake while I hadn’t even moved from my bedroll yet.

When the hell did they go hunting? The sun wasn’t even that high in the sky yet, and judging by the freshness of the campfire, I assumed Eddie returned just recently. That must’ve meant he’d been up ever since dawn.

Well, someone was certainly excited to start the day.

Letting out a fatigued yawn, I stretched my arms out and sat up from the ground, causing Eddie to jolt his head in my direction as I dragged a hand down my face.

“Morning, Arthur,” he greeted with a smile, offering some of the food he was cooking. “Rabbit?”

I glanced around the camp for a minute, still trying to get my bearings.

“You caught somethin’ already? Heh. Looks like I taught you well.” I stood up from the bedroll and took a seat beside Eddie, pouring myself a cup of coffee.

“You certainly did,” he agreed. “Though, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the skinning part.”

I took a sip. “Oh, I hope you do. There’ll be lots of skinnin’ today, after all. ‘Parently, these Arlington Twins are no joke. Plenty o’ folk gone after them already, but none have succeeded. They’re wanted alive, too.”

Eddie raised a brow. “And you think it’s a good idea to hunt them down?”

“None of this is a good idea,” I replied. “But it’s the only option we got right now. Unless you wanna earn money by shovelin’ pig shit on a ranch instead.”

The pianist chuckled. “Well, when you put it that way...”

I gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Just stay alert, and don’t hesitate to shoot ‘em if things go south. I know they’re wanted alive, but I’d rather you be broke than be dead.”

Eddie nodded. “I’ll do my best. So, what was this plan you mentioned before?”

I stared at the fire in thought, pondering the multiple ways we could approach this.

“Well, like I said...there’s a good chance they’re targeting the trains coming from New Hanover, so I think it’d be best if we figure out when the next one rolls in. See if we can’t catch them along the way.”

I downed the rest of my coffee, stuffing the mug back into my satchel as I prepared to leave. “I know a feller over at the Rhodes train station could help us out. A peculiar man by the name of ‘Alden,’ but he’s effective in his own way. He’ll know the trains’ schedule.”

Eddie paused for a moment, briefly falling silent before agreeing to my plan.

For a second there, it looked like he wanted to ask me something, but dropped the subject and refrained himself from doing so.

Was everything alright? I wondered. Maybe I should’ve taken a step back and checked on the boy for a damned minute before runnin’ off to hogtie some outlaws.

After all, Eddie had been through hell this past week. With Middleton’s death, the gala shootout, and being forced to survive in the wilds -- I had no idea how this was really affectin’ him.

I forced myself to slow down for a moment and simply sat on my horse, peering over at Eddie with a concerned expression.

“...You alright there, Eddie?” I asked. The musician unhitched Bullet from the post, putting his hat back on as he climbed on top of the beast.

“Well, there is something I want to talk about,” he confessed, “but...now’s not really a great time.”

I shrugged. “On the contrary, now is probably the best time. Never know when we’ll have a moment o’ peace like this again.”

Eddie gave in and sighed in a worried manner, somberly looking away from me. He actually appeared rather upset -- more than I first anticipated -- and the longer he went without sayin’ anything, the more I was afraid somethin’ bad had happened to him.

What was going on?

Eddie stared blankly at the ground, his voice softening with sorrow and uncertainty as I waited for a response.

“...Am I...making you uncomfortable, Arthur?” He questioned quietly.

I blinked in confusion, wonderin’ how on Earth he even got to that conclusion.

“Wh-- no, of course not. What gave you that idea?”

Eddie turned back to me, clearly more hurt than he was lettin’ on.

“It’s just...every time I try to get close to you, like last night, it always seems to scare you off. And you’re constantly going on about how you shouldn’t be around me, or that it’s better off if we put some distance between each other. I just wanted to know if I’m reading the signs wrong. If I’m...perhaps not quite understanding what our relationship really is, and pushing things too far. ...Am I? Is this...not what you want?”

I found myself at a loss for words, suddenly feelin’ like such an asshole. This whole time, I truly believed I had been protecting Eddie when, in reality, I’d actually been hurting him.

Every time we was around each other, or every time Eddie tried to approach me for comfort, I always seemed to subconsciously push the kid away and do my absolute best to shield my true emotions from him, not realizing the messages I was really sending.

Good God, I was an idiot.

Not only had I been making Eddie feel unwanted, I had also gone and taken apart the only life he ever knew by gettin’ involved in a war that weren’t even mine, and throwin’ him out into the wilds.

But of course, like the fool I was forever damned to be, I perceived it as an act of protection -- and through some twisted logic -- saw myself as the guardian in this scenario.

I struggled to find the right words, stutterin’ like an absolute moron while I tried to reassure Eddie.

“Oh, Eddie...” I said, my tone filled with guilt, “...I’m...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I...”

I took a moment to gather my thoughts, desperately attemptin’ to put out this fire I’ve started.

“Listen,” I stated, “I know you think I’m a good man -- and maybe, deep down somewhere, I am -- but my actions don’t always reflect it. I’ve...I’ve committed crimes, Eddie. Harmed people that didn’t deserve it. Taken things that weren’t mine. And as a result, it’s gotten those around me hurt. Sometimes, even killed. I just don’t want the same thing to happen to you. I don’t wanna put you in danger.”

Eddie shook his head. “I’m already in danger, Arthur.”

“All the more reason not to add more onto your plate.”

The boy leaned over and placed a hand on my lap, appearing somewhat relieved.

“We’re in this fight together, Arthur,” he reiterated. “Sure, this isn’t what either of us wanted, but it’s happening now. And the only way we’re going to get out of it is if we stay by each other’s side. I know you’re willing to protect me, and I’m willing to protect you. No one is putting anyone in danger, except for Atticus Rose. Alright?”

I took what he said to heart, still feelin’ guilty for hurting Eddie the way I did.

“You sure about this?” I double-checked. “You sure you wanna...tie yourself down to some big, dumb moron like me?”

The boy chuckled, his emerald eyes twinklin’ once again.

“Positive. Now...” Eddie gently whipped his reins, signaling Bullet to start trotting out of the camp as he looked back at me with a grin, “...are we catching these twins or what?”

RHODES TRAIN STATION

Strolling through the double-doors, Eddie and I entered the quiet train station as everyone instantly began staring us, following our every move while we made our way to the ticket booth.

Most of the people inside were relaxing on the multiple benches scattered around and reading the newspaper, tiredly waiting for their train to arrive as life carried on outside.

So far, things seemed calm enough. And judging by the lack of alarm in the locals, I assumed the Arlington Twins hadn’t hit any of their trains just yet. That meant they were either still planning, or waitin’ for the right moment. We would have to move fast.

Walkin’ up to the booth, I tapped the little bell sittin’ on the counter and caught the attention of Trelawny’s old friend, lowering my voice as I told Eddie to wait by the door.

“Hello, Arthur!” Alden exclaimed happily. “You came back! Oh, it’s good to see you again. I hope you’ve been well?”

I nodded casually, placing a few dollars on the counter. “Well enough. Listen...I need a different favor today. I ain’t lookin’ for no stagecoach. I’m lookin’ for a train this time.”

The clerk’s eyes widened as he took the money. “A train? Ain’t that a tad...ambitious?”

I smirked. “What can I say? I’m an ambitious man.”

Alden smiled. “That, you are, Arthur. That you are. Well, let’s see...” he opened a the ledger, sliding his finger down the page as he studied the arrival times. “I assume you’re wantin’ a train with some value on it?”

“That would be ideal.”

He took out a slip of paper and began eagerly scribbling some notes on it.

“You’re in luck. There’s a train arrivin’ from New Hanover at ten o’clock. It’s carrying some weapons as well as some money, and there aren’t too many guards on board. A perfect opportunity for a...discouraged man such as yourself.”

I checked the clock on the wall, squinting slightly to read the time. It looked like we had about half an hour before the train arrived. That would work.

“Sounds good,” I said, taking the note Alden had written for me. “Thank you.”

“Be real careful, Arthur,” he warned compassionately. “Goin’ after stagecoaches is one thing, but trains...they’re no joke.”

I returned to Eddie, waving goodbye to the clerk.

“Oh, don’t worry, Alden. I’m always careful.”

A WHILE LATER

BORDER OF NEW HANOVER

Hiding among the many trees in this region, Eddie and I kept a close watch on the railroad tracks as we waited for the train to come through, our weapons all loaded up and ready to go.

The area had been pretty quiet so far, and there was nothin’ but deer and wild horses running around, along with the occasional traveler or two passing by. And what made things even stranger...was that nothing had been placed on the tracks that would force the train to stop.

It made me wonder if the Arlington Twins were even nearby. Or if they were planning to hit this train specifically. Jesus...after all this drama, I almost hoped they were.

“See anythin’ yet?” I asked, observing the place through a pair of binoculars.

“No,” Eddie answered, taking out a pocket watch. “Are you sure it’s arriving at ten? What did that note Alden gave you say?”

I took the piece of paper out and held it between two fingers, handing the note over to Eddie. “Here.”

The boy examined it for a moment, his brow furrowing once he reached the end.

“...Who is this Alden, exactly?” He questioned, sounding a little jealous.

I adjusted my binoculars. “An old ‘associate’ of mine, you could say. I’ve known him for a few months now. Why?”

“Because at the end, it says: Be real careful. Xxxxx. And he’s also drawn a heart.”

I let out a breath, lowering the binoculars for a second.

“Jesus, Alden...” I grumbled, taking the note back. “L-Look, there ain’t nothin’ between us, Eddie. That man’s just...immensely attached to me for some reason. Has been since day one.”

Eddie softly laughed. “I know. I’m only teasing you, Arthur.”

I went back to scouting. “...If you say so.”

The pianist gave me a nudge, pointing towards the western side of the tracks as the sound of a rhythmic engine reached my ears.

“Wait, look! There’s the train.”

Bringing my attention to the train as it passed by, I began searching for any signs of the Arlington Twins, focusing my binoculars on the surrounding area.

“Well, they haven’t robbed it yet, that’s for sure. You see ‘em anywhere?”

Eddie shook his head again. “No.”

I zoomed in, examining the inside of the train through the dusty windows and studying the opulent passengers one-by-one as they relaxed in the car, completely oblivious to what was about to happen.

The train’s interior was much more luxurious than I expected. From what I could see, there were lavish couches and tables decorating the inside of the carriage along with a cozy bar takin’ up one of the corners, and it seemed like the passengers were enjoying a meal at the moment. I guessed that was the dining car.

What really caught my attention however, was a certain woman who was sittin’ directly in my line of sight. For some reason, she appeared very familiar to me, and the longer I looked at her, the more she rang an ominous bell in my head.

The way her face was shaped, the way her makeup was done, the way her eyes seemed to be in a constant twitch...

Holy shit.

I froze with realization, hurriedly putting my binoculars away as I sprung up from the ground and ran for my horse.

“That’s because they’re already on it! C’mon! We gotta catch this train!”

Bolting alongside the railroad, Eddie and I galloped so fast to the point where it felt like we was glidin’ off the damned ground as we tried to match the speed of the train, practically standing straight-up in our saddles as blades of grass flew behind us.

It didn’t seem like anyone had noticed just who the hell two of the passengers really were, and as far as I could tell, no sort of robbery had commenced yet. Though, considering how close we was gettin’ to Rhodes, I imagined them twins were gonna get to work pretty soon.

I kicked my spurs into my horse, urging her to run faster.

“We gotta get close enough to jump on!” I yelled at Eddie over the train’s thunderous engine.

“I hear you!” He shouted back.

Leaning forward, I firmly whipped the reins and pushed my mount to speed up as I steadily approached one of the flat carriages, unable to ignore the large cliff that was steadily comin’ up in the distance.

It looked like the railroad turned into a bridge not too far away from here, and if I didn’t jump onto this thing soon, I weren’t gonna be here when it crossed.

“Shit...!” I cursed, immediately angling myself towards the cars. I wasn’t anywhere near close enough to the train, and the gap in front of me was a lot wider than I woulda liked...but I was runnin’ out of land to work with. And despite how chaotic my life might’ve been, I didn’t much fancy the idea of plummeting to my death.

Bracing myself for what was about to come, I balanced myself on the saddle and took multiple deep breaths, my heart hammering along with the train’s engine as I prepared to jump.

The ground beneath me had turned into a green blur at this point, and with every second I wasted sittin’ here like an idiot, the faster the edge of the cliff seemed to draw near.

I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists, encouraging myself to do the unthinkable as I got ready to jump.

“...Come on, you son-of-a-bitch...!”

Taking a literal leap of faith, I launched myself through the air and landed roughly on the metal carriage with a heavy thud, holdin’ on for dear life as my legs dangled off the edge and my horse came to a stop, rearing at the cliff.

The train was well off the cliff by now, and against my better judgement, I glanced downwards, only to be greeted by the bottomless pit of jagged rocks and aggressive waterfalls underneath me.

I let out a strained groan, musterin’ as much strength as possible before pulling the rest of my body on board.

“Eddie?” I shouted, getting back on my feet. “You there?!”

The pianist’s voice called back at me from a different carriage. “I’m here!”

I took out my revolver, heading straight for one of the passenger cars.

“I’m goin’ after Minnie!” I informed. “I saw her in the dining car! You keep an eye out for the brother! And remember -- capture them alive!”

Stormin’ my way across the carriage, I squeezed my way through the many crates of cargo and wasted no time in barging through the door as all the passengers inside nailed their eyes onto me, alarmed by the sudden intrusion while I searched for the sister.

“Minnie Arlington!” I barked, scanning the seats like a hawk.

The woman sprung up from her bench, letting out a cackle when she finally realized what my purpose here was. Jesus -- Minnie looked even crazier in person. Not only did she have strands of wild hair stickin’ out from under her big, floppy hat, she had also stuffed herself into a big, green gown to blend in with the rest of the passengers.

“Well, hello there, darling!” Minnie taunted with a wide grin, whipping out her own revolver. “I was wonderin’ when the next bounty hunter’d show up! Well, c’mon then, lil’ boy! Show me what you’re made of -- blood and bones just like the others, I assume!”

Her finger snaked over the trigger, causing me to jolt out of the way just as a bullet came zipping past my ear.

I shot straight back at her, only to end up hitting a wine bottle on the table she was taking cover behind as red liquid and glass sprayed everywhere.

Numerous shrieks of panic instantly erupted within the train carriage. Passengers ducked under their seats with no other way out and screamed in fear, shielding themselves from debris as I pushed through the aisle and continued my pursuit of Minnie.

The outlaw had made her way to the opposite end of the car by now and was hurling liquor bottles at me as a distraction while she steadily inched towards the second exit.

So far, her twin had yet to lend her a helping hand, and far as I could tell, the same could’ve been said for Eddie. I hadn’t seen him ever since I threw myself onto this godforsaken train, and he certainly didn’t follow me into the carriage. Where was he?

Firing her last bullet in my direction, Minnie toppled over a grandfather clock in her path, forcing me to climb over the damned thing as she gripped the exit’s handle.

“So long, bounty hunter!” She exclaimed. “Maybe next time, you’ll actually get the bounty!”

Swinging the door open, Minnie let out a sharp laugh and ran to her freedom, only to be blocked by none other than Eddie himself who was standing directly in the doorway, Lancaster in hand as he stared her down.

“There won’t be a next time, love.”

Eddie bashed the stock directly into Minnie’s head, knocking her out cold as she fell flat on the floor, completely motionless. Afterwards, the pianist bent down and began tying her up with some rope, glancing at me from under his hat’s rim.

“I got her, Arthur.” He assured. “You go on and find Jesse. I’ll make sure she doesn’t go anywhere.”

Giving him a quick nod, I slipped past the two of them and headed outside, searching the rest of the train for Jesse as the railroad took us through an even taller waterfall, sprinkling puffs of mist all over me.

By now, I could practically see the entirety of the Heartlands from here, and the sun was just startin’ to climb in the sky, causing an array of golden beams to seep through the thick, white clouds and onto the land below. It was one hell of a view if I ever saw one. I just wished I actually had the time to look at it.

Hurrying through an empty carriage, I swiftly reloaded my gun before spotting Jesse in the conductor’s car, mindin’ his own business.

It looked like the man had killed the original conductor and was now disposing of his body by throwing it over the edge, allowing the poor soul to plunge through the air and into a raging river below.

He didn’t seem to know I was there yet, and just before he could stop the train, I called out his name, making sure my revolver was clear as day in hopes of persuading him to surrender.

“Jesse Arlington!” I yelled, making the outlaw freeze in place. “I’m here to turn you in. Now, I ain’t gonna kill you, but I sure as shit will make you wish I had if you gimme enough of a reason to. So you got one chance to come easy...before I start shooting.”

The man turned around to face me, revealing the nice set of yellow teeth hidin’ behind his cocky grin as he slowly put his hands up.

He let out a chuckle. “...A bounty hunter, eh? You wouldn’t be the first to come after me, big man, and you certainly won’t be the last.”

I gestured to the carriages behind me. “Your sister would disagree.”

Jesse paused at that, his grin disappearing as the mischievous twinkle vanished from his eyes. “...My sister?”

I nodded, admittedly amused by his sudden lack of courage. It was my turn to smile now.

“Oh, yeah,” I confirmed, subtly stepping closer to him. “Minnie’ll be wearin’ a California collar soon enough, and if things go accordin’ to plan, they’ll be suitin’ you up, too. So, you gonna come easy? Or am I gonna have to introduce you to the rope sooner than expected?”

Jesse gulped at that, clearly not confident about his chances no more. I could see beads of sweat rolling down his brow, and with every second he spent glaring at me, the easier I could tell he was losing his nerve.

The outlaw muttered a quick curse, his jaw clenching in anxiety as he desperately searched for a way out.

“Shit...!”

To my surprise, the man suddenly leaped upwards and climbed onto the roof of the train, attempting to escape me as he ran to the other end.

“Of course...” I hissed, putting my gun away. If I shot him while he was up there, there was no doubt the man would fall off. That meant I was gonna have to restrain this bastard with my bare hands.

Pulling myself onto the roof with an amount of strength I didn’t know I had, I broke into a sprint and furiously chased after Jesse as he bolted ahead of me, jumping from carriage to carriage while the train aggressively stormed across the bridge.

The waterfall was well behind us at this point, and all I could see right now was miles of open country...along with a deadly drop looming beneath us as it swallowed the bridge’s towering supports.

This was definitely not what I had in mind when I took the Arlingtons’ posters off that goddamned wall, and I sure as hell hoped this would all be worth it in the end.

I picked up the pace, hurdling over the numerous gaps laid out in front of me.

“Stop, dammit!” I shouted, gradually gaining on Jesse.

The outlaw had reached a dead-end by now, and was frantically searching for any other options as his eyes flicked around, his body coming to an abrupt halt once his gaze landed on me.

Jesse gritted his teeth in anger, sliding out a knife when he finally decided to confront me.

“You want the money you came for, boy?” He growled. “You’ll have to fight for it.”

Pouncing at me like a tiger, Jesse began violently swingin’ his knife around while the two of us fought in the middle of the sky, our clothes billowing wildly in the powerful wind as we barreled through Lemoyne’s countryside.

At this height -- combined with the train’s smoke whirling around us -- it almost felt like we was fightin’ on our own little arena above the clouds as we hurled each other around the roof, doing our absolute best not to fall off.

It was a one-way ticket to death waitin’ underneath us, and I had no intentions of hopping from this ride to another.

I quickly recomposed myself, prowling towards Jesse as I held my fists up in defense.

Throwing a flurry of punches at the outlaw, I ducked and swerved outta the way of his blade, the sharp edge just barely brushing against my skin as the two of us brawled on top of the train, tryin’ to corner the other on the edge.

There was a certain adrenaline sparking my movements -- one I rarely ever experienced -- and the longer the battle carried on, the more determined I was to shut this son-of-a-bitch’s lights out.

I took a deep breath, readying myself for whatever was to come next.

Lunging at me with his knife, Jesse let out an angered yell and attempted to stab me in the abdomen, only to find himself locked in my hold once I grabbed his arm and bashed my forehead against his, stunning the man.

Dazed from the hit, Jesse stumbled backwards and dropped his knife over the edge, leaving him completely defenseless as he sluggishly rolled around, trying to stabilize himself.

Meanwhile, I took the opening before he could do anything else and hurriedly prepared my lasso, only to get kicked directly in the stomach once I got close to the man.

Using the opportunity to gain the upper hand, Jesse briskly tackled me to the ground and grabbed a handful of my shirt, hoisting me upwards as he dangled me over the train’s border.

Jesse’s disgusting grin returned to his face and he laughed lowly, more than eager to throw me off.

“You got nowhere to run, cowboy...” he taunted. “Nowhere except down.”

Sneaking its way into the scene, a second lasso suddenly roped itself around the both of us, tying me and Jesse up into a bundle as we stared at each other in confusion before being yanked back onto the roof.

I landed on top of the outlaw with a heavy thud, both of us glancing around to see just who the hell had joined the fight, only to find Eddie at the end of the rope.

The pianist steadily approached us as he unholstered his revolver, glaring at Jesse in a defensive yet somehow playful manner.

“He ain’t a cowboy.”

Pulling the trigger, Eddie fired a bullet directly into the man’s leg, causing him to let out an agonized howl while I slipped out of the lasso, lying still for a second as I caught my breath.

I lazily looked up at the musician, giving him a weak but thankful smile.

“...Bravo...”

He returned the smile, beaming at me as he hogtied Jesse properly.

“What can I say? I learn from the best.” Eddie stood back from the outlaw, admiring his handiwork. “So, what do we do now?”

I sat up and gazed at the view surrounding us, a breath of relief escaping me now that the fight was finally done.

“...We get our goddamn money.”

Eddie took a seat next to me, his legs hanging off the train’s edge.

“And after that?”

“Keep headin’ west,” I replied. “To Valentine. Possibly Strawberry. Hell, even New Austin if need be. Anywhere...but Saint Denis.”

The boy seemed satisfied with that and hung his head low, clearly drained of energy from all this action.

“Fair enough,” he concluded. “Just...no more trains, please.”

I laughed at that, removing my hat for a second as I combed a hand through my hair.

“Now that...is a promise I can’t make.”

A LITTLE LATER

RHODES, SHERIFF’S OFFICE

“Well, I’ll be damned,” the Sheriff blurted out, staring at the two outlaws we had thrown onto the floor of his office. “You actually caught them. They make you work for it?”

I exchanged looks with Eddie, the two of us lookin’ like we had just gone to hell and back.

“A little.”

“Well, my deputies’ll take it from here. In the meantime, here’s your money. A hundred dollars, as promised. Spend it wisely.”

I grabbed the bill-fold off the desk, wavin’ a quick goodbye to the Sheriff as Eddie and I took our leave.

“Pleasure doin’ business.”

Stepping out of the office, the Sheriff called for his deputies to clean up the mess while Eddie and I wandered back into the quiet town of Rhodes, splitting the money we just earned.

I slapped fifty bucks into Eddie’s hand and beamed at him, praising the boy like a proud mentor.

“Good work, kid,” I complimented. “It ain’t exactly ‘easy money’ like I was expecting, but you did well anyway. And you saved my life, too. So, thank you for that.”

The pianist smiled bashfully and flicked his eyes towards the ground, his expression glowing with gratitude.

“Of course, Arthur. You’re worth saving...even if you may not believe it.”

I chuckled lightly. “Oh, I dunno ‘bout that...but I’ll take your word for it. Anyway, how’s about you and I get outta this hot weather and start makin’ our way to Valentine? It’s a calm enough town, and if we move fast, we should be able to get there by this evening. Maybe even stop at the saloon for a drink or two. Lord knows I could use one.”

Eddie followed me out of Rhodes, both of us feeling refreshed now that we were off that goddamned train.

“Nice to see you’re spending your money wisely.” He joked.

I gave him a friendly wink, slipping the bills into my satchel.

“Well, for a few dollars more, we might even get some proper food to eat. And I know there’s a saloon just down the road, but...I’ve had enough o’ this town. What ‘bout you?”

Eddie sighed in fatigue, nodding in agreement. “Yes, I think I’m more than ready to move on to Valentine.”

I stuck a cigarette in between my lips and struck a match, lighting the tip as I let out a breath of smoke.

A smirk crept onto my face.

“...Then what the hell’re we waitin’ for?”

[a-memory-of]

The kitchen table was, as always, dominated by books. Laurens Lalier would clear space for plates at mealtimes, but in between those times the holes seemed to mysteriously fill in with tomes. He was leaned over one of them, a twig with a spray of berries held between one thumb and forefinger. As he idly rolled his fingers, the berries spun and danced innocuously. Yet he had good reason to distrust their innocent facade - they were one of several ingredients in the poison Kazha'a had recently attempted that had nearly taken his life.

Laurens' other hand was pressed lightly against the book, fingertips beneath the line he was reading in order to hold his place whenever he needed to look away. At his elbow was a pen and a notebook. About half a page's worth of notes were scrawled in his sharp, neat handwriting, alongside a crude sketch of the plant in question. An artist, Laurens was not.

Grunting quietly, Laurens lifted his hand from its position as placemarker and instead closed that book entirely. Nothing new; the exact same information, word for word, as the last entry he'd been able to find. It was starting to become painfully apparent that he was far out of his depth. Kazha'a Anhsari had devoted his time elsewhere with a fervor that told of how shaken he was. After that night where he had poured near everything out to Laurens, he had withdrawn to his normal reserved nature. He still shared meals with the other, and made an effort to show he wasn't actively avoiding him, he just had little words left to say. He almost seemed ashamed.

He had taken to building himself a training dummy out of old firewood and things he had found around the house. It wasn't perfect, but it kept him occupied. He had already told himself he was going no where near that bottle again, even if he had to chance the encounter with his mother without preparation.

When he came inside for a break, he found Laurens at the table. He frowned, lowering his ears as he stepped closer. "Anything...?" he chanced. Laurens had done is best to let Kazha'a have the space he wanted. It was difficult at times. He wanted to talk; not necessarily about the same subjects as that night, but in general. But he respected Kazha'a's desire to be alone with his own thoughts and not be bothered. That was part of why Laurens found himself up to his elbows in old books.

With a heavy sigh and an equally heavy thump, Laurens added the last book he'd been investigating to the discard pile. "Nothing new, no. My library just isn't equipped for this - I never did invest very much in poisons beyond the typical stinging insects or other local creatures." He rubbed the bridge of his nose to ease the knot of tension that was forming between his eyes. "I've even inquired with the guild - they, however, told me to check in with the arcanists in Limsa Lominsa. The library there is more extensive." The Keeper went quiet, staring at the pile of books with a pensive frown, and a half-tiled head. He felt bad, handing this weight to Laurens as he had. The mention of Limsa Lominsa and arcanists drew his attention, and he slowly brought his eyes back up. For a moment, his frowned deepened, but then he turned away. And then he disappeared into the bedroom, to the corner where he had his things stored.

Kazha'a was gone for only a few moments, and then he returned, holding out something for Laurens to take. In his hand was a small, pale blue linkpearl. He seemed a little hesitant for some reason but if it was something that could help, he had to swallow it down. "A...someone I know," he struggled to find the word. "A doctor. Arcanist. Lives in Limsa. Maybe she can help." At first Laurens watched Kazha'a vanish into the room, bemused. But when he returned and offered Laurens a pearl, Laurens couldn't hide a momentary surprise. "I... see," he said as he gently removed the pearl from Kazha'a's outstretched hand. "Is this lady doctor someone you trust, or one who shouldn't be advised of any specifics regarding why a stranger is suddenly asking her about poisons?" It was a nice blue at least, Laurens thought as he rolled it around in his palm. There was something oddly comforting about it.

"I won't tell her anything you don't want said," Laurens continued aloud. "Though I will have to tell her something. If she's a friend of yours then I've no doubt she's too clever to try to pull one over on her." Kazha'a pursed his lips a bit, about to fight calling her a friend, but he resisted. He supposed he would not have held onto the pearl if he did not feel some connection. And he was well aware of how insistent she was. "I... trust her," he shrugged after another moment's thought. "She knows me. She... married that man...who saved my life. We worked together."

His eyes drew down to the pearl a moment, before he slowly slid into the chair beside Laurens'. "I never told her about my mother," he continued, a flick of his ear and a slight head tilt signalling he was thinking. "But she won't ask questions." Laurens let the pearl come to a halt. "Alright. I won't volunteer that information, then." He rubbed his free hand over his chin and the blond scruff there. "Will she worry if someone else contacts her using this, though?" He offered the pearl back in Kazha'a's direction, concerned both for the person on the other end as well as Kazha'a himself.

"Perhaps you ought to speak first so she doesn't think I've abducted you?" Come to think of it, that could make for an interesting plot point in a novel. Laurens glanced away to make a tiny note in the margins of his research. Ill-timed, perhaps, but that was usually how inspiration seemed to work. Kazha'a opened his mouth, but snapped it shut. He threw the other a half-hearted glare, as if he would allow himself to be abducted in the first place. He muttered a low curse under his breath, not directed at anyone, before holding the little pearl up to his ear and activating it.

A few passing moments and a voice came across from the other end, "Kazha'a? Is that really my dearest, Kazha'a? You know, I had almost believed you had tossed my pearl away. But I had a hope--"

"Woman---" Kazha'a growled out lowly, a warning annoyance to which said woman on the other end only laughed in response to.

"Yes, yes, always so serious and broody. So then what do I owe the pleasure of your call?"

With @ffxivaltstars

Kazha'a glanced up toward Laurens, almost helplessly, and furrowed his brow, "I need...I need--"

Laurens stifled a smile at Kazha'a and his grumbling and overall grumpiness. It wouldn't do to let him know that Laurens could see right through it in this instance. Nor did he want to add to any discomfort once the call was underway. "Assistance?" He offered. "Or perhaps to introduce her to someone?"

Laurens had to admit his curiosity was piqued. Kazha'a being as reclusive as he was, there were likely very few people with whom he would keep a direct connection. The Keeper's trust was not an easy thing to earn. "Take a breath. Start again." Doing as he was told, he took a breath and tried again. Thankfully, the woman on the other end seemed amused, but also did not pressure him and patiently waited. Kazha'a attempted the words once more, "I need..." he flicked his eyes toward Laurens, "assistance. From you."

"Oh my, it must certainly be serious then. I shall do all I am able."

Kazha'a was fidgeting on the other end, fingers tracing patterns in the grain of the wooden table with his lips pursed. "It's book stuff. Healing... stuff," it was probably amusing how talking on the pearl seemed to reduce him to an anxious, awkward pile of broken sentences. "Here, talk to my friend..." before he shoved the pearl back Laurens' way, he added, "...please." Laurens nodded encouragingly along with the words, giving what he could to be supportive of his efforts. He reached out to rest a hand briefly on Kazha'a's knee before accepting the pearl that was nearly thrust upon him. Bringing the little jewel up to his ear, Laurens hesitated and then spoke. "Hello, it's nice to meet you. My name is Laurens - I'm a friend of his." He couldn't help smiling over the simple word friend and flicking his eyes up to Kazha'a's face.

He picked up his pen again and twiddled it between his fingers. The tension in him was subtle in everything other than the way the pen moved and occasionally tapped the surface of the table. There was still a bit of an echoing laughter on the other end as Laurens took hold of the pearl. But as Laurens introduced himself it quieted. "Hello dear," the voice greeted in return. "'Tis a pleasure to meet, well, speak to you. My name is Ellere. I shall admit I am very surprised to receive a call from him, and even more so to know he has made a friend somewhere."

Kazha'a shifted again, doing his best to appear he wasn't interested in what she was saying to him. He kept his gaze elsewhere, only flicking his eyes up to Laurens when he was certain he wasn't looking himself. "I've come to understand it's something of a unique situation," Laurens agreed. He continued to fidget. "The reason for the call, however... Kazha'a suggested that you may have a bit more information than I do. I'm a healer as well, you see, but I have very little experience with toxic substances."

The abused pen was set down, looking slightly worse for the wear, as Laurens got to his feet to move around the kitchen. He tidied books as he talked, rearranging them into alphabetical order. There was no reason for it other than just to be doing something. Sitting still was out of the question. "So as embarrassingly forward as it may be to make a request of a stranger the first time speaking with them, I don't have much of a choice. I really need your assistance, should you be willing to lend it, in regards to working out an antidote to a specific and very nasty poison. And if it's outside of your expertise as well, perhaps you might be able to recommend where else to begin?" Ellere gave a quiet, thoughtful hum over the pearl, "Toxic substances? Well, I admit poisons are not quite exactly my own expertise either, yet..." There was a slight pause, as if she was giving it thought. "Do you perchance have a sample of said substance? I am an alchemist, as well as a healer, and I may be able to determine an appropriate counter if so."

Kazha'a frowned, watching as Laurens got up and all but paced the room. It was making him nervous. He could only hear one half of the conversation, and he could only assume whatever Ellere had said was not good news. Laurens paused in his steps and looked over to Kazha'a. Catching his eye, he gave a little nod. "I may be able to get you one. Let me double-check." To Kazha'a, Laurens tilted his head to the side slightly. "Would you be willing to send what's left in the bottle to her? I know a quick and reliable courier who could get it to her safely." Truth be told, Laurens would be glad to have that evil little bottle out of the house. Logically he knew it couldn't hurt either of them without them consuming it, but it still sometimes made him uncomfortable just being around it. "She says she might be able to determine something with alchemy." Kazha'a stiffened a bit when the conversation focused on him again. His brow furrowed and he thought to himself. The poison had not been easy to get. And he certainly would not ask his sister to risk it twice. But he had already sworn he would not take it again, not like the first, not after what happened. He had no use for it then. So he finally gave a slight nod. He had no knowledge of alchemy or magic, but he knew the woman, at least, did. "Thank you." Laurens gave a small, tight smile and moved close enough to pat Kazha'a's shoulder before turning his attention back to the pearl. "May I get your address please, Miss Ellere? I will send the sample by courier as soon as I'm able." He was already withdrawing another pearl from a pocket of his vest. This he set on the table and bent over to pick up the pen again to write down whatever information he was given. With luck he would catch the courier when he was already nearby, but... he was getting ahead of himself. Information first. "And I would like to compensate you for your efforts, as well."

Ellere gave an audible click of her tongue as if she was chiding a child, "Absolutely not. Compensation is not required. It is the least I can do for Kazha'a." She paused before continuing, "I know not the intent in all this, and I know with him it could be one hundred and one different reasons but... I know he would not have asked for help if it was not important. I live in the fourteenth ward of the Mists, dear, number forty four."

Kazha'a looked up as Laurens touched his shoulder. Then he followed his hand as he withdrew another pearl, curiously. He tried not to look overly anxious. If Ellere could help... he was one step closer to ending this.

[impalaimagining]

Heroici

Pairing: Jensen x Reader, past Jared x Reader

Word Count: 3,174

Warnings: angst, character death, prolonged mourning/grief, smut

A/N: Written for @spnkinkbingo and for @spnangstbingo​. I’m so sorry.

Kink Square Filled: AU

Angst Square Filled: Military AU

Beta: @sixtysevenandwhiskey

SPN Kink Bingo Masterlist - SPN Angst Bingo Masterlist - Masterlist

The knock on your door echoed through your mind. No one knocked. No one ever knocked. You stood and stepped slowly toward the door as the blood drained from your face. You could see the uniforms through the window; two men stood on your doorstep in dress blues. The whoosh of your blood behind your eardrums combined with the violent thud of your heart deafened you to any other sounds. To this day, you don’t remember turning the knob and opening the door. 

“Hello?” Your voice was shaky. 

The man on the right handed you an envelope. Your hands trembled as tears fell onto the concrete step beneath your feet. You didn’t have to open the envelope - you knew what it said - but you opened it anyway. A sob shook your body as you read the words.

“We’re very sorry, ma’am. If there’s anything we can do for you, please, don’t hesitate to reach out.” The same man who gave you the envelope turned on his heel and proceeded back to the car awaiting both of them. 

You looked up, catching the back of his head before your eyes met those of the other man who’d been with him. His eyes were sad, but almost glowing green, and freckles were smattered across his face in the most perfect places. He didn’t look real; he looked like one of those guys you saw on the advertisements for joining the Army. They didn’t actually exist, they were just there to look pretty for the commercials.

“I’m very sorry.” His voice pulled you out of your head. 

You shook your head, cleared your throat, and swallowed. “Thank you.” You managed on a whisper. With a nod and another sympathetic look, he was gone.

It only took three days to pull the funeral together. You’d received the news on Tuesday, and the services were arranged to be held on Saturday. You found the knee-length, lacy but modest black dress that always did something unexplainable to your late husband. With a sad smile and a breath of a laugh, you pulled it on over your head and grabbed black heels to match. 

Your mom drove you to the funeral home. You never would’ve made it on your own. As you opened the car door, a hand caught yours, helping you to stand. You adjusted your dress and thanked the man with a small smile, not really looking at him until he’d let go. 

“Oh.” You breathed. It was the same green-eyed man from Tuesday. “Thank you.” You repeated.

The man remained silent, but nodded once and folded his hands together at his belt. You stepped inside, your eyes falling to the casket at the front of the room. You were the first to arrive.

Slowly, and on feeble legs, you ambled toward the pine box. You rested your hand on top, then let your head fall forward as you sobbed. The sounds echoed through the otherwise empty room, and fuck anyone who tried to come in and calm you down. 

It took almost an hour before your breathing regulated itself again, and by the time you were done hugging everyone there was to hug and were finally able to sit, you swore you didn’t have a single tear left to cry. You were wrong.

The preacher stood behind the podium. He thumbed through his bible until he found the verse about eternal life and rested his palm on the page. He looked up, eyes meeting yours for just a brief second, but it was long enough for him to give you that look - that damn look filled with so much pity that if you saw it from one more person, you swore you’d lose it. You didn’t want their pity, hell, you didn’t need it. You’d spent enough time wallowing in it over the days since you’d received the news. Pity party was practically your middle na-

“Family. Friends.” The preacher’s eyes scanned the room. “Today, we gather to celebrate the life of Jared Padalecki.”

Your throat closed and your heart pounded. This couldn’t be real.

“Jared was a son, a brother, a husband...” His eyes moved to you again. Your mind screamed fuck you and you knew you were going straight to hell for it. You didn’t care. “His time on earth was cut entirely too short.”

That was the last you heard. Nothing else mattered. None of what he was saying was relevant to Jared’s life anyway. It was a canned script. The preacher had gone so far as to ask you if Jared had any nicknames he could sprinkle into the service. God, no. Jared’s nicknames weren’t for some man - some stranger - to use to make himself feel better about the whole thing.

Jared’s mom sat on your left while your own mother sat behind you, her hand resting on your shoulder throughout the morning. The preacher opened the floor to anyone who had anything to say. You didn’t. You couldn’t. But after two of Jared’s high school friends had spoken - and cried - their way through their stories, your body moved on its own. You were standing, your legs carrying you to the front of that stuffy, overcrowded room like they were disconnected from the rest of you. 

You stood behind the wooden table and stared at the microphone, blinking slowly. Chancing a look at your mom, she pointed to herself, and then to you, a silent question of whether or not you wanted her beside you. You shook your head subtly and took a deep breath in through your nose. Pulling your lips into a thin line, you closed your eyes and opened them, only to find the gaze of the man with the green eyes. You focused on him. 

“I don’t actually know that many of you, but,” you huffed a laugh, “I know, just by looking at all of you, that Jared has changed every single one of your lives. He changed mine, that’s for sure. When I met Jared, I never expected to fall in love with him. We were drunk - God, we were so drunk.” That earned a low chuckle from the people in the seats. “But we hit it off, and I gave him my number, apparently. He texted me the next morning. The rest is kind of history. I loved - love - Jared with everything I have, and I would give anything to be able to live out the promise we made to grow old together.” You blinked back your tears and looked at the casket. “I love you, baby. I’ll see you soon.”

The steps back to your seat were numbing. You felt every eye on you, heard every sniffle, saw every flash of white as people raised tissues to wipe their eyes. As you sat down and heard the muffled sound of the preacher’s voice, you knew you had to stand again. You reached back for your mom’s hand and let her support you, unsure of whether it was actually for you, or if you were just appeasing her need to comfort you. 

Shots rang out through the cemetery. Your ears rang as you stared at the field of red and white stripes fanned out before you, then folded neatly into a little triangle. The fabric hit your hands, along with the gentle touch of a stark white glove. The brush of another person’s hand brought you from your daze. Looking up, you were shocked to find that the man with his hand still on the flag was the man who seemed to be following you - haunting you - everywhere you went. His kind, green eyes wrinkled at the corners when he smiled solemnly and stepped back into formation. 

The casket started its descent into the ground and you couldn’t help but laugh at the fact that there was nothing in it. No body, no possessions, nothing. Jared had died in battle, and they didn’t have time to recover his body. The thought made you sick to your stomach, bile bubbling in the back of your throat. You must’ve made a noise or something, because Jared’s dad passed you a bottle of water. You forced a smile and nodded a silent thanks in his direction before the trumpets behind you played the saddest fucking song you’d ever heard.

At the luncheon - the stupid, necessary luncheon - you were sitting at a table with your parents and Jared’s. They started talking about something - oh, grandkids - and you bolted for the bar. 

“Whiskey, double. Please.” You forced a smile for the bartender.

He sat the glass down and began pouring, catching the glint of the diamonds on your rings. “Lucky guy.” He gave you a smug grin. 

“What?” You accentuated the ‘t’.

“Your husband. He’s a lucky guy.” He shrugged, nodding toward your wedding band and flipping the whiskey bottle, stopping the pour.

“He’s fucking dead, asshole.” You snapped, loud enough to catch the attention of the tables closest to the bar. They turned and looked at you, and you could not have possibly cared any less. 

“Hey, whoa, okay.” Strong hands held your upper arms as you snatched your whiskey glass and were pulled away from the bar. “You think you really need that right now?”

You scoffed and threw back half the drink, shuddering before looking up to tell off the man who criticized you and dragged you from the confrontation. Son of a bitch. “Seriously?!” You looked at him with raised eyebrows. “You’re everywhere. Ever since you showed up at my house and told me that my husband isn’t coming ho-” Tears poured from your eyes before you could finish the statement. 

The man - the kinda creepy, a little bit shy, and a lotta bit handsome mystery man - pulled you into his arms. You didn’t care that you didn’t know him. You didn’t care that all of Jared’s friends and family were watching. You didn’t care. You needed someone like this, and this complete stranger knew that better than any of the people who claimed to be your family. 

“Shh, I’ve got ya.” His hand smoothed over your hair while you cried into his white button-down shirt. “I know. I know...” 

You pulled back and looked up at him, wiping at your tears quickly. “I’m sorry.” You wriggled out of his embrace.

He shook his head. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for. I know what you’re goin’ through. It’s tough, but you’ve got people here for you, y’know?” You nodded as he extended his hand with a light chuckle. “I’m Jensen, by the way.”

It shouldn’t have felt right when you two met for coffee every Wednesday and Saturday. It shouldn’t have felt right when he kissed you, only a few months after Jared’s casket was covered and in the ground. It shouldn’t have felt right when he suggested the two of you live together. It shouldn’t have felt right the first time he made love to you. None of it should’ve been right, but it was... 

“Jensen!” You cried out into the darkness, clutching at his broad shoulders. 

Jensen rutted his hips against the insides of your thighs. His nose bumped yours gently as he kissed you. His fingers laced with yours on either side of your head and held you where you were. Jensen fucked down into you with almost his full weight, and the tingling in the tops of your legs told you you weren’t getting out of bed anytime soon after this round. You didn’t mind.

Your nails dug into the meat of Jensen’s back as one hand left yours to trail down your body. He squeezed your hip before grazing his thumb to the apex of your thighs. The pad of the thick digit brushed your clit softly and you bit at his bottom lip. Your nerve endings were alight with pure, primal need for Jensen to finish the job. Everything in your body screamed for Jensen, your throat sore from the loud moans of his name that had echoed off your bedroom walls all night. 

Jensen’s hips snapped forward, hard and deep, and you swore you felt him in your stomach. Every sensation hit you at once - his lips molded with yours, the weight of his body on you, the stretch of him between your legs, the rough skin of his thumb pressed against your most sensitive parts. You crumbled, your legs shaking around Jensen’s hips as he slowed his thrusts and found his own release.

After a few quiet minutes of lingering touches and soft, drawn out kisses, Jensen pulled himself from within you and laid beside you, pulling you onto his chest. His fingers drifted over the skin of your upper arm and shoulder while you nuzzled into the crook of his neck. You traced patterns onto his chest as your breathing evened out.

“I love you.” Jensen whispered. 

So much for even breaths. 

You looked up at him, surprised by his confession. “I mean it.” He assured you. “I love you. I really, really love you. I’m - I’m in love with you, and I don’t need you to say it back, I just had to-”

You cut him off, jumping at the chance to kiss him again. Jensen knew you didn’t need to say the words. Every ounce of everything you’d ever felt for him was flowing between the two of you as your lips connected.

You and Jensen spent months apart when he was called back to the base, and it killed you to be away from him, but the reunions. It was like nothing you’d ever felt before every time you saw him, and you swore he got better looking every time he came home.

One of his stays had you feeling particularly on edge, and you couldn’t pinpoint why. You woke up every morning feeling nauseous, but nothing ever came of it. You chalked it up to the anxiety of missing him and knowing what happened the last time the man you loved walked out of your house with his camouflage bag slung over his shoulder. Absentmindedly, you twirled your wedding band on your right ring finger and your stomach lurched. You ran for the toilet and lost the contents of your stomach into the bowl.

“Shit.” You groaned, looking down. Your eyes caught on your watch and you frowned at the date. “That can’t right.” Pulling out your phone, you double checked. After the clarification, the panic set in. You snagged your keys from the counter and ran to your car.

Jensen came home twelve days later, and you were beyond anxious for his arrival. He burst through the door and scooped you into a hug, crashing his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. You chewed your bottom lip nervously and watched as he hung his bag on the hook by the front door.

“I’m so fuckin’ happy to be home.” He sighed, getting ready to sit on the couch.

You couldn’t help yourself, the words fell from your lips before your mind’s filter could kick in. It surprised you almost as much as it surprised him.

“Jensen, I - I’m pregnant!” You stammered, watching his reaction carefully. When his eyebrows raised and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly, you knew it was okay to smile.

“Are you serious?” Jensen looked at you in awe as you nodded and pulled the pregnancy test from behind your back. “Oh my God!” He grabbed you around the waist, crushing you to his chest and spinning you in a circle. You giggled as tears lingered just out of the corners of your eye. “We’re gonna have a baby!” 

You nodded, your feet hitting the ground softly. Smiling, you reached up and laid your palm on his scruffy cheek as you whispered. “We’re having a baby.”

Jensen insisted on you quitting your job at the coffee shop as soon as you went to the doctor and got the “official” test done. Once the doctor confirmed the pregnancy, Jensen had you on strict orders to do the bare minimum. You swore you gained double the normal weight in your first trimester. 

You were showing by the time Jensen’s birthday came around, so you wrapped your stomach with a bow and a little tag that said, “Present within - do not open until June.” Jensen laughed at that, taking a picture before he unwrapped his gift fully, stripping you down and nosing at your neck while he reminded you how beautiful you were to him - no matter how your body looked.

A month and a half after Jensen’s birthday, the two of you packed up for the day and headed to the lake. Jensen pulled into the gravel lot and loaded himself up with the chairs and fishing poles while you grabbed the cooler. 

You spent the day sitting by the edge of the water, lines cast out, talking about what the next few months of your lives would bring. “You still have to build that crib, you know.” You teased him, earning a dismissive wave of his hand and a light roll of his eyes. 

“I’ve got time.” He shrugged. 

“You’ve got maybe eight weeks.” You pursed your lips and rested your hand on your baby bump, rubbing lightly as you talked to your unborn child. “Dad doesn’t wanna do stuff for you.” You glanced at Jensen, a coy smile on your lips. “You won’t even have a place to sleep if he keeps this up.”

“Hey, knock it off.” Jensen chuckled, laying his hand over yours. “I’ll do it when we get home today. Scout’s honor.” He held up three fingers and you giggled.

When you got home a few hours later, Jensen headed straight for what was going to be the nursery and opened the box with all the crib parts inside. He groaned when he saw all the legs and screws and parts. You giggled, standing in the doorway and watching him.

Jensen stood, brushing his hands together with a content sigh. “Not too bad, huh, Mama?” He pulled you into the room and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder while you smiled and shook your head.

“Not too bad at all.” You turned and kissed the tip of his nose. Jensen spun you around and kissed your lips deeply. As his hands slipped under the fabric of your shirt, holding your hips, the doorbell rang. Jensen groaned. “Let it go.” It rang again, and once more. You furrowed your brows and fixed your shirt, walking to the door with purpose.

Without peering through the blinds, without checking out the window, with no hesitation at all, you opened the door and your breath left your lungs. Your heart stopped and your knees buckled under your weight. Jensen’s arms caught you from behind before you could fall to the floor. As he opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, he glanced up. 

Jensen’s breath caught in his throat and he choked on his words, clearing his throat and blinking slowly. “Jared?”

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[ncomiis]

i pulled an all nighter and this happened

— flashback: creative writing class. beginning of junior year.

naomi sits patiently at her desk, waiting for the rest of the class to fill in so that the creative writing class could begin. she was really excited for this since writing has been a way for her to let all that darkness within her out. it was a form of therapeutic expression. so far she recognizes a few faces. the blair maxwell was sitting a few seats away next to her beau daniel taupo  ( whom naomi has had a crush on since middle school but has made no attempt in telling him because hello; he was dating the blair maxwell ) then brother and sister duo bryce kings and damaris lennox sitting in the front row. so far, they’re the only students in the classroom and naomi can tell this class is going to be small. she wasn’t sure if she liked that. just then, her best friend verena enters and naomi smiles, waving her over.

“ you’re in this class? no way! it’s going to be so much fun. how was your summer? we didn’t hang out as much as i wanted us to. my dad and his family went on a cruise so i was left housesitting. which i mean, is whatever i don’t even like the bahamas.  ”  she shrugs her shoulders, rambling to the other girl and too busy trying to play catch up that she doesn’t notice when cristian ramos (  cleveland high school’s bad boy slash heartbreaker ) and his friend enter the room and take the seats directly in front of them, as if there weren’t other empty desks littered around the room.

the smell of cigarettes hits her hard and she cringes, wasting no time in tapping the stranger   cristian’s friend ) on the shoulder,  “  you stink.  ”  naomi boldly says, interrupting their conversation and raising her eyebrows as he turns around.

“ and you’re annoying.  ”  the words fall from his lips so swiftly yet heavy and naomi sits there, a little stunned. 

“  i’m sorry, what?  ”

“  deaf too, apparently.  ”

naomi snorts and looks over at verena, giving her a who is this and why is he talking to me like that look. vee just shrugs and looks down at her notebooks, going back to ignoring the interaction all together. she’s about to reply when the teacher walks in and begins to introduce herself to all eight of them; setting the class into motion.

— time jump to after class.

“ and he has a name. micah. very fitting.  ”  and once again, naomi interrupts whatever he’s doing as she leans against the lockers that lined their high school’s hallway.

“ naomi, or should i say cry baby. please don’t flood the hall with your crocodile tears. ” micah looks so unimpressed as he shuts his locker closed and gives her a bored look.

“ i’m not— are people still saying that about me? ” suddenly, she’s no longer interested in telling him off but more into wanting to finding out what her peers have been saying behind her back.

“ yeah, they also say you grow a tail when there’s a full moon and that you have a daniel taupo shrine in your room. is he your favorite member of one direction?  ”  the end of his lips quirk up into a smug smirk and she frowns, crossing her arms against her chest. she can’t lie, there’s a slight pink tint coating her cheeks at the mention of the ginger haired boy.

“ you still stink. ”  and with that, she turns to walk away from him and that embarrassing conversation.

“ and you’re still annoying.  ”

naomi laughs to herself slightly, remembering the first time she met micah byeon. the memory feels like it was lifetimes ago. a time where things were normal in her life. no kids, no ghosts, no murders, no serial killers. just an angsty teenager trying to graduate from high school. her laugh slowly fades and she’s in silence, laying in the backseat of her car where she’s been sleeping for the past few days; too embarrassed to ask any of her other friends if she could crash at their place and too broken to go back home.

she thought that the pain would go away a few hours after the big fight and that maybe, just maybe, she’d be able to return the following day where they’d make up and forget any of it ever happened. but naomi isn’t dumb, she knows that simple i’m sorry’s wasn’t going to fix the mess she and micah had made. it wasn’t going to fix them. if anything, the pain has only gotten worse and no one knows she’s hurting. she briefly mentioned it to daniel the night of, but she didn’t tell him the whole thing. he didn’t need that on his conscious,

not now and not ever.

letting out a small sigh, she sits up and ignores the headache, climbing into the driver’s seat and turning the car on. she sits there, emotionless and pretty dead on the inside as she thinks of what her next move is going to be. the party she and verena had planned was slowly creeping up and she was in no mood to attend, let alone dress up for it. with everything going on with her and micah and zach; the last thing naomi castillo wanted to be is festive. but alas, she had to go. it was her party after all, and she didn’t want to raise any red flags within the team. she wanted them to at least have one night where they could have fun.

— flashback: becoming roommates. end of senior year. high school.

“ i’m in. ”

naomi’s eyes move from the textbook in front of her and up to meet micah’s, a confused look on her face.

“ what? ”

“ i said i’m in. you sure you’re not deaf?  ”

with a roll of her eyes, she bookmarks the page and shuts the book, waiting for micah to further™ explain himself.

“ your craigslist ad. for a roommate. saw it last night and thought why the hell not? i can’t afford to live in the dorms.  ”  

naomi’s face lights up and she lets out an excited squeal,  “ oh my god? yes of course. yes! this is going to be so much fun. i found the apartment about a month ago and it’s like, right near campus. i expected it to be super duper expensive but it’s not. and it’s really nice. ugh, i can’t wait to decorate for all the holidays! do you celebrate christmas or do you do like do hanukkah because—  ”

“  i regret this already.  ”

this time, her laugh is mixed with a few sobs as she begins to cry, head resting on the steering wheel. how could they let it get this bad? they were supposed to break the cycle their parents had so selfishly created. they were supposed to be stable. they were supposed to be happy.

“  oh god, micah… what did we do?  ”  she says to herself, replaying the argument over and over in her head.

“ you’re the one who decided to fuck a serial killer, and you’re the one who decided to have his kids. no one told you to do that shit, and ava and noah sure as hell didn’t ask to be born. all of that? that’s on you. you’re the reason you have twins right now, and you’re the reason you’re so motherfucking tired. whatever the fuck it is that you’re so upset about? frankly, it’s probably your fault, too. ”  she lets out a cry, hitting her palm against the wheel

“ i don’t care what you want. ” another cry, another hit.

“ i don’t need to project my shitty childhood onto them naomi, you’re already giving them a one. ”  this time the hit is harder and the cry is intense.

“ get out of my apartment.  ”  and finally she breaks down again, feeling her chest shake as the sobs come out stronger and stronger, vision blurring as the tears pour out.

things weren’t supposed to go like this. they were supposed be different. where the hell did they go wrong? silverwood? each being too broken to fix the other? or was it because they depended on each other far too much? the pressure, the weight was too much for these broken birds to handle. one of them had to snap first.

wasn’t it funny that they both snapped at the same time?

the seconds that pass feel like hours but naomi is finally able to semi recover from her breakdown. taking a few deep breaths, she wipes the tears away and reaches over for her water bottle, gulping down the whole thing before tossing the empty plastic into the backseat.

putting the car into reverse, she backs out of the parking lot of the hq and onto the main road, making her way towards last place she should be at the but the first place she finds herself going to.

her dad’s house.

— time jump.

the argument made naomi realize a lot of things about herself. the main being that she was her mother. there were no similarities, no, they were the exact same person. from their mood swings to the bedridden depression to the way they treated their kids. naomi had always been preoccupied with trying not to be like carson that she didn’t even realize she had become alejandra. the realization hit naomi hard and still, she doesn’t know how to react to it.

at first she was very confused but slowly, it all began to make sense. the reason why she and her father never got along, her fervour heart, why her brother ran away the second he turned eighteen, her inability to keep her emotions in check. it all screamed her mother and it was right in front of her the entire time. how could you be so blind, naomi? all the years you spent asking why things where the way that they were;  the answer was in the mirror, staring right back at you.

taking a deep breath, naomi enters the familiar neighborhood and she slows down once the house is in sight. her palms begin to sweat and she feels a ping of fear shoot up her spine as she pulls in to the driveway.

you can do this. no you can’t. yes you can.

after fighting with herself for a few minutes, she finally cuts the engine off and steps out the car ( first making sure she looks and smells presentable ) walking up the steps to the front porch and knocking on the door.

she knows he’s home, his car is parked out front. she doesn’t see jacqueline’s which eases her nerves slightly. she wanted to confront her dad alone and not in the presence of the woman who helped ruined her life.

naomi’s train of thought is put back on track as she hears the door unlock then open, revealing the man of the hour.

“ naomi? what are you doing here? everything okay? where are the twins?  ”

things have been weird with her dad since he was attacked by mayer all those months ago. he doesn’t scold or nag on her as much as he used to. don’t think he doesn’t do it though; because he does. about two weeks ago he called only to tell her off for buying the wrong medicine when noah got sick. mortin, naomi. the name is not that hard to remember.

“  i finally get it.  ”  she ignores his questions, instead letting her statement stand in place of an answer

“  get what? you’re really starting to worry me.  ”

“ why you left mom. why you left us.  ”  

he goes silent and his eyes divert from hers, she notices the shift in his attitude.

he opens the door and motions for her to come inside and she does, turning to face him as soon as the door closes behind him.

they never talk about it. they never talk about her mom or her death or him leaving when they needed him the most, no. the only thing they talk about is how bad of a mother naomi is and how irresponsible she is as an adult. any time she’s ever tried to bring it up, he either gives her some bullshit answer of how things were hard for her to understand and that she’d never get it.

but boy was he wrong.

“  naomi please don’t do this now…  ”

“  it’s hard taking care of someone who feels all at once then nothing at all. it’s hard to love someone like that, huh?  ”

silence.

“  i loved her.  ”

“  i’m sure you did.  ”  words come out flat,  “ especially with how much you talk about her.  ”

“  you don’t understand naomi—  ”

“ but i do, dad. i do understand because i’m going through it right now. i’m hurting like she was and i walked away like you did.  ”

and for the first time since she was a child, carson shows emotion towards his daughter. not sternness or disappointment, no, he shows something she’d never thought she’d see him express.

empathy.

“  what happened to my little girl?  ”

“  my mother died, my brother left and my father stopped loving me.  ”

“  i never stopped loving you naomi.  ”

“ then why did you push me away? why did you choose jacqueline and matthew over me?  ”  voice cracks as the questions pour out, heart racing a hundred miles per hour as she anxiously waits for him to reply.

his jaw tightness and she knows she’s hit a spot but she doesn’t care— it’s time for the two of them to finally sort this shit out like the adults that they were.

“  you reminded me so much of her. i couldn’t do it. i couldn’t go through that again.  ”

“  oh fuck you, carson.  ”  

“  naomi vienna castillo—  ”

“  you’re my first heartbreak, did you know that? because of you i have problems with getting close to people because i’m scared that they’re going to leave me like you did. you were a selfish asshole, you only thought of yourself and because of that mom killed herself and lukas left!  ”

“  i tried fixing things. i was by her side at every waking moment. i took her to the doctor i got her the help she needed but she refused to take it. she liked being that way. she loved watching her family fall apart— ”

“  please, don’t—  ”

“  no, no,  ”  her shakes his head, interrupting her,  “  you want to come to my house and tell me that you know what it’s like but you don’t know. you really don’t. the crying, the screaming, the—”  things begin to get intense. naomi has never seen her dad this way and honestly? it’s frightening.

“  the sleepless nights. the mood swings. the leave me alone’s and the please don’t leave me’s.  ”  she finishes his sentence, and that stuns him.  “  i told you that i know what it’s like. and it pains me that i walked away just like you did. for the past month i’ve been feeling the same exact way she was. i couldn’t stand being around my kids, i ruined my relationship with zach and i left micah. this family has a problem with walking away when things get tough and i’m tired of it, carson. i’m sick and tired of it i need you to finally man up to your fucking mistakes and make things right. ”

“  what do you want me to say? i’m sorry? fine. i’m sorry, naomi. i’m sorry for leaving you and your brother with that basket case…  ”  naomi doesn’t listen to the words that come after that, no, instead her mind takes her back to the argument and how she had used the same word to describe herself. it all feels surreal, how things just keep coming back in a full circle.

— flashback: police station. after silverwood.

naomi sits in the police station, away from everyone else. they’ve just been rescued from silverwood and were currently waiting for the ambulance to arrive so that it could take them to the nearest hospital. she sees everyone reunite with their families. daniel’s parents are crying and checking to see if he was okay. damaris and bryce are with some of their family member’s and vee is also with her parents, deep in conversation but with their arms around her. even blair’s dad was here, hugging his daughter with a relieved look on his face. the only people missing were micah and cristian. micah had left with the first ambulance that was on the scene since his condition was the worst of them all ( apparently mayer had stabbed him in the church and he had lost a lot of blood; which worried the fuck out of naomi ) and cristian was currently being questioned.

she had been approached by some of the other parents and even some police officers, asking if there was any family that she wanted to contact to let them know she was fine.

“  no, there’s no one.  ”  she answers,  “  i’ll be okay.  ”

“  … and i told you to stay away from that micah boy. i told you he was bad news and you didn’t listen. you just had to let him move in and look at you now, having episodes like alejandra and coming to my house in the middle of the day throwing a fit. you asked why i pushed you away, well here’s why, naomi. here’s why.  ”  she opens her mouth to say something but the words come out, instead she stands there, defenseless to his words.

there’s a long pause. long enough for carson to know that he’s about to fuck everything up with his next words. 

“ i don’t regret leaving, naomi. it wasn’t a mistake. ”

her throat tightens at the confession and she feels like she’s having an out of body experience.

“ mom... mom killed herself because of you and you... you don’t care you just left... you killed her.  ” she chokes out, feeling the room spin around her as she came to the realization that carson castillo was the true villain in her life.

not mayer. no. her father.

and as if on cue, mayer appears next to carson and this only causes her to stumble back slightly.

“ oh, naomi. this goes deeper than you thought, doesn’t it? both of the prominent men in your life are killers. one offinig your own mother and the other, slowly chipping away at you until you meet the same fate as her. ”

“ s-shut up please, ” she cries out, covering her ears and shaking her head.

“ what would it take, naomi? for you to end it all. for you to jump and fly. fly away from your fucked up life. because there’s really no way to fix all of this. you should just put yourself out of your own misery. ”

“ PLEASE. ” she cries out, dropping to her knees.

“ what’s wrong— ” her dad begins to walk closer to her

“ g-get away. stop. ” she stretches her arms out, causing carson to stop in his tracks.

“ she looks just like you. your mother. very beautiful, the two of you,” mayer kneels beside her, ghostly fingers comes out to caress the spot on her neck that’s been hurting ever since she’s been seeing him.

naomi winces.

“ i know ava’s going took like both you and her. let’s hope she doesn’t inherit the crazy that comes with the castillo women.  ” he speaks, tone of voice as calm as her.

“ but if she doesn’t get it from you then she’ll definitely get it from her daddy.  ”

— flashback: hospital. after silverwood incident.

“ jesus christ naomi. ” carson walks into her hospital room, jacqueline hot on his heels as they stand at the foot of her bed.

“ what are— how— who— ” naomi’s confused, she never told anyone to call them to let them know where she was. in fact, she was very specific on making sure that they didn't find out. well, not yet at least.

“ daniel called us. are you really this ignorant? you didn’t even call. i was worried sick. see i told you, i told you this was a bad idea. ”

“ dad... ”

“ and you did it anyway. this is so typical of you naomi. when are you going to realize that your stupidity has consequences? this was all fun and games in high school but now you’re a full grown adult and you’re still doing this shit.  ”

“ yeah, dad i’m fine. my leg is broken because i got it caught in a bear trap. a serial killer tried murdering me and my friends in a town crawling with demonic ghosts, i was kidnapped by a set of cannibal twins and oh— i’m pregnant. but no, don’t let my problems intervene with your lecture. please, continue.  ”

the room falls silent and the tension becomes so thick and awkward, it’s like a mirage.  

“ you’re pregnant? oh my god, just when i thought things couldn’t get worse. ”

naomi looks down as she feels the tears forming in her eyes.

“ oh, here come the waterworks. ” jacqueline’s annoying voice cuts through the air and that is enough to let a few tears fall.

“ dad i can— ”

“ who’s the father? ”

the question catches her off guard and naomi has not had enough time to come up with a lie for it, so instead she stays quiet.

“ answer me. who is it? is it micah? i’m going to kill his punk ass— ”

“ it’s daniel. ” as soon as the words leave her lips, she regrets them. naomi knows how much her father hates micah and he would follow through with his words of killing him if she admitted to being pregnant with micah’s kid. thankfully she was not but she was too ashamed of telling him the truth. plus, she knows how ‘fond’ carson is of daniel, so his reaction would definitely soften at the news.

“  does he know. ”

“ no. ”

“ are you keeping it? ”

“ dad…  ”

“ are you keeping it? ”

“ i don’t know. ”

“ we’ll talk about this when you’re home. ”

and just like that, he leaves. no tears, no hug, no kiss, no i’m so glad you’re alive, no anything. naomi castillo almost died and it didn’t even phase her father.

naomi stands from her spot, mayer’s energy gone completely but still feeling the tension between her and her father.

“ coming here was a mistake. i knew that but like a dumbass bitch i still came. i still tried giving you a second chance. because that’s who i am—  i try to see the good in people. but there’s nothing good left in you anymore, carson. frankly, i don’t think there ever was anything good to begin with.  ”  she snaps back into reality, looking at him straight in the eyes as she speaks.

“ naomi— ”

“  you’re dead to me, dad. ” she says the last word with such hatred and intensity, she wants him to know that she means it. that she’s finally done with him and all his emotionally abusive bullshit.

not waiting for a reply she pushes past him as she walks out the door, much like she had done to micah days earlier, and gets into her car, ignoring the fact that he was calling after her and following her.

“ don’t do this, vienna. you’re going to regret it i promise you. i can’t lose you too. ” and she laughs, finding it funny ( even though it isn’t ) that he was even saying that. just a few minutes ago he was telling her off, not even bothering to give her a proper apology, blaming her for how fucked up she was, being the heartless person she knew he always was. and now he wants to play the grieving father?

fuck. that.

she cranks the car up, putting it in reverse. she sees him standing a few feet away from the car and she rolls down the window to say:

“ you lost me the day you left. ”

— flashback: hospital. seeing micah for the first time since silverwood.

“ micah … micah where is he?!  ”  naomi frantically looks around, trying to see if she can catch a glimpse of her best friend. it’s been days since they were rescued from silverwood and naomi has no idea what his condition has been or where he was. there’s a panic within her and one of the nurses tries to calm her down, informing her that if she kept freaking out like this, they were going to sedate her.

“ no you don’t understand, i need to know where he i— micah.  ”  as soon as she sees him walk through the doors, naomi gets up and runs over to him  ( well as good as she could with the boot around her broken leg ) , wrapping her arms around him. she tries not to squeeze him too hard, knowing he’s probably still recovering from all the wounds silverwood has left on him. but she holds him tightly enough for him to know how happy she is to see him.

“ you fucking idiot, you scared me. ” she says through her tears, pulling back to inspect him, seeing his face was bruised and bandages on his arm.

“ i scared you? not the ghosts or lunatics in silverwood? ”

“ fuck off, you know what i meant. ” she pulls him in for another hug, so glad to see that he was okay.

naomi wouldn’t know what to do with herself if something had happened to micah. if she lost him. they’ve been ying and yang for so long, that she feels so deeply connected to him, more than she has with anyone ever. he was her rock as she was his. they kept each other from floating away into the abyss that was the world. they kept each other from being chewed up and spit out. micah byeon has had such a powerful impact on naomi castillo and her life that she really would not know what to do if he were to go away.

she loved him.

sniffling, she catches whiff of hospital all over him and she cringes.

“ you stink. ”

pause.

“ and you’re annoying. ”

[thewaterwolfe]

all the warm colors

yes hello this is a short story i wrote be gentle (sorry it’s a lil long) 

***

This is the place I know like the back of my hands. The trees have sheltered me since I was little, with the branches and leaves whispering in my ears with every sway of the wind. This is the place where we would run to after school despite our parents’ objections. It was home when there wasn’t a home to go to.

Except, tonight, it’s a mystery to me.

The trees do not sway. They do not whisper to me. They are silent, unmoving, and for the first time, I feel like a stranger in these woods.

I trace my fingers alongside the rough bark of the tree. White pine, I think, and look towards the canopy, searching for any piece of recognition, but in the darkness of the night, my mind is anything but clear.

White pine, I think again, although this time the words escape my lips.

I stop walking and grab my notebook from my pack, fishing my phone out of my pocket and switching on the flashlight. I skim through the pages of my notebook, mind racing, trying to pinpoint the location.

Up ahead, there’s a snapping sound followed by a shout, and my head jerks up from my notes.

“Fuck, Tanner, I can’t see anything anymore. Gimme the flashlight.”

“Use your own damn phone, Jude.”

The two shadows—Tanner and Jude—are fifteen yards ahead of me, just barely illuminated by Tanner’s scanty phone flashlight. Everything—coming back here, to the woods, to the clearing—was their idea. Tradition, Jude had called it. Although this year, it was just a bit different.

I inhale sharply and block out the thought. I look back down at my notes.

“That’s your own fault,” Tanner is saying.

“Yeah, but if you hadn’t forgotten the drinks we wouldn’t have had to go back, and we wouldn’t be in this mess, now would we?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Tanner groans. “I drove us here, so I can just as quickly leave without you.” There’s a pause and then Tanner says, “How’s it going back there, navigator?”

Distracted once again, I close my book and shove it back into my bag.

“There should be the clearing about fifteen yards to your right,” I call to Tanner, quickening my pace to catch up to them.

Sure enough, the clearing’s there, seeming to appear out of thin air.

“What would we do without our little forest walker, huh, Adam?” Tanner claps me on the back, a little too hard, and I stumble forward a bit. I don’t respond, just shrug my bag onto my shoulder a little more and step over the thickett into the center of the clearing where our campsite sits, untouched.

“Remind me again why we didn’t leave someone here to watch our stuff?” Jude questions, but it’s more directed towards Tanner.

“Who’s gonna touch our stuff?” Tanner responds. “No one’s been back here for a while. And besides, Adam knows the best way to and from here.”

Jude lets out a defeated sigh and throws his pack onto the ground where it opens up, spilling its glorious contents: a dozen cans of bud lite and coke.

“And to think that I almost sprained my ankle three times just to get these,” Jude says, using his phone flashlight to scan the ground for any stray cans. I walk over to the fire pit and begin to kindle a fire, and within ten minutes we’re all lounging around the embers wrapped up in our sleeping bags with our backs propped up against the trees, music humming in the background. Tanner reaches for the bag and grabs two cans and cracks one open, slurping up the bubbles as they ooze out of the top. After his hefty gulp he tosses the other one to Jude and turns back to guzzling down his own drink. I roll out of my sleeping bag and reach over to Jude’s pack and take a beer for myself, trying to act unbothered. I tap the tab gently and meticulously, making a mental note to grab extra water for everyone later.

“Mmh,” Jude murmurs. “Cheap beer, my favorite.”

“Piss off if you don’t want it then, asshole,” Tanner says. “That’s money out of my pocket.”

Jude raises his hands in defense. “Don’t worry, it’s all good. I’m eighteen. My standards are low.”

“Cam,” I chime in, “would not stand for this mediocracy.”

“You know what, Adam?” Tanner says, and there’s a hint of mischief in his voice. “You’re right.” Tanner throws his sleeping bag off and reaches into Jude’s bag and pulls out, this time, a can of coke and shakes it like there’s no tomorrow and pops the tap, letting soda explode all over the three of us and quickly pours the rest of his bud lite into the soda and chugs the can, smashing it onto the ground once he’s done. I’m covered in sticky beer, but I manage a chuckle as Tanner lets out a long, putrid belch.

“There you go,” he says, bowing as Jude howls with laughter. “Typical Cam fashion.”

“Bravo,” Jude cheers. “Way to make an absolute fool of yourself. And thanks for the shower.”

“You’re just jealous,” he rebukes, “because you could never stomach it. Cam would be proud.”

I run my fingers through my sticky hair, catching Tanner take out another beer and toss his empty one to the side. I feel uneasy, but it’s not from the beer. Ignoring it, I reach over my head and pull off my shirt, setting it down beside me to dry. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, glancing at the time. 7:32. My thoughts settle down.

One hour and ten minutes until a year exactly, I think. What the fuck are we doing getting shit-faced? I look back down at my chest, still slick with beer. A wave of guilt and revulsion runs through my body, and I sit up sharply.

“This isn’t what Cam would want,” I mutter, almost to myself.

“What do you mean?” Jude asks.

I want to reply, but I’m not sure what to say. This all just feels wrong.

The fire crackles, breaking the silence.

“Of course this is what Cam would want!” Tanner cackles. “Are you serious? His three best friends chilling with some cold ones, per tradition, getting ready to party it up.”

Maybe that’s what you want, I think, but instead say, “I don’t know. It feels too quiet here. Like we’re disturbing the woods. Maybe…maybe Cam doesn’t want us here.”

“Well,” Tanner counters, turning up the music, “if I were him, I would certainly be wishing that I could join the party right now. And it’s just getting started.”

He pulls out a packet of Marlboros and hands one to each of us. None of us smokes. We just take it for the looks. Vintage street rat, Tanner calls it. I hold mine in my hand and twirl it through my fingers absentmindedly while Jude and Tanner stand up and began to howl with the music.

“This is for you, Cam!” Tanner shouts into the night. I want to get up and join them, to feel the buzz drown out all of my inhibitions, but I can’t shake my uneasy feeling. It’s the first time here without him, so the woods just feel vacant. They feel lonely, unfamiliar. I feel my thoughts begin to race (and there’s no stopping them this time), and my heart starts to pound (is this how he felt?). So I reach into my bag and pull out my notebook again, browsing through my notes. Years of mapping and rambles of notes and paintings—paintings with colors I haven’t touched in a year—litter the pages, and I know exactly where we are so I flip to the page, all the way in the back.

(Did he come to this spot?)

Hazlett Forest, it reads in my scribbles. December 12, 2013. It’s an old page, but it’s one that Cam and I put together. I continue reading.

The clearing; white pine and heavy, mossy ground. Thirty paces east from the little stream,  152 paces east from the lake.

I stop reading.

(I don’t want to think about the lake.)

I turn the page where there’s a polaroid clipped onto the outside of the page. It’s me and Cam in the clearing, all but fifteen years old. We still both had our braces, and Cam’s clunky glasses are sitting crookedly on his face matching perfectly with his crooked smile. That stupid, stupid grin and those stupid glasses. Sometimes I hate myself for not taking more pictures of us, because now I only have years-old pictures and sometimes I think I’m forgetting what he looks like and sometimes I’m scared that I’ll forget him all together and sometimes—

I slam the book closed and smack the back of my head onto the tree behind me, trying to silence the thoughts. I glance over at Jude and Tanner. Jude’s taken out his ukulele and is fiddling lazily with the strings and Tanner’s lying down, snoring lightly. Typical. Jude looks up and I catch his eye, and he nods in silent agreement.  He reaches over to the speaker and turns the music off while I begin picking up the empty beer and soda cans. After, I take a look at the time. 8:39. Shit, it’s been that long already? How is that possible? Throwing the thought to the side, I kick Tanner gently awake.

“Hey, it’s almost time,” I whisper, and Tanner stirs.

“I gotta take a leak,” Tanner mumbles, slowly getting up.

“Can’t you wait, like, five minutes?” I say impatiently.

“Dude, I gotta go when I gotta go.” Tanner begins stumbling away as I wave my hands indignantly.

“You’re gonna miss it,” I hiss, but Tanner waves his hand dismissingly.

“Forget it, Adam,” Jude says. “If he wants to miss it, it’s on him.”

“Fucking asshole,” I spit. “That’s all he’s been today.”

“We’re all just—you know—a little overworked,” Jude reassures me, and he takes a look at his watch. “One minute.” He smiles hopefully, but I can’t get over how selfish Tanner’s being. He was the one so adamant to do this, both he and Jude, and he’s going to miss it all, the most important part, all because he’s taking a fucking piss, all because—

“Adam,” Jude murmurs beside me.

“What?” I snap, turing to face Jude. He’s staring off into the distance, frozen in place.

“Adam,” he says again, raising his hand and pointing a finger to the treeline. “Is… that Cam?”

I squint into the distance and scan my eyes over the trees, and in the center of it all is, unmistakably, Cam. Even if it’s just his silhouette, there’s no mistaking his head of curly golden hair.

Heart racing, I scramble to grab my phone out of my pocket and turn on my flashlight, shining it into the distance.

“Cam?” I shout, pointing the flashlight at him. It passes over his figure, but in a flash, he darts away.

“Wait!” I hollar, and I’m suddenly running like a madman towards the tree line, faster than I’ve ever ran before, screaming incoherently. My mind’s a blur, and all I’m thinking is It can’t be him it can’t be him it can’t be him but at the same time I’m shouting at my legs to run faster, faster, to catch up to Cam to just make sure and so I could see him one more time so I wouldn’t forget him—

My foot catches on a root and suddenly I’m no longer running but flying through the air and I crash to the ground, skidding to a stop. I sit up and brush myself off, scanning the area frantically for any sights of Cam.

But he’s gone.

And I’m alone.

I crumble to the ground and sink my face into the earth, letting out a sound that’s half way between a groan and a scream.

“I’m so sorry,” I whimper into the earth. “Please come back.”

But he’s not coming back, not now, not ever again, and so I sink farther and farther into the ground, waiting for the day that the mosses and grasses grow over me and swallow me whole.

But, of course, that doesn’t happen.

There’s a tap on my shoulder.

“Adam?” a voice says softly. It’s a million miles away. Or maybe I’m a million miles away, but either way, I somehow manage to slowly lift my head up from the ground. Jude’s standing beside me illuminated by his flashlight. His eyes are hollow and glassy, and his face is filled with concern.

“He’s gone,” is all I can manage to mutter.

“I know,” is all he responds as he reaches down and hoists me up from the ground. But somehow, it’s comforting. If Jude saw Cam too, then maybe he’s still out there. Maybe he’s not completely gone.

Jude carefully guides me back to the campsite, and by the time we get back to the clearing my legs have stopped shaking. That is, until I see Tanner standing aloofly by his tent. Before Jude can stop me, I’m hurling myself at Tanner, shoving him hard in the chest.

“Where the fuck were you?”

“I—” he starts, but I cut him off sharply.

“No! I don’t care if you were taking a fucking piss! This is your fault! You never show up for anything!”

“Is that what this is about?” he shouts, enraged. He shoves me backwards, harder. “Do not blame me for this. It is not my fault that Cam’s dead.”

“You didn’t fucking show up when you were supposed to!” I scream, tears swelling in my eyes and blurring my vision.

“What were you doing, then?” he counters. “Working on some stupid painting and ignoring his texts. How is that any better? And you!” He turns and faces Jude, who takes an apprehensive step back. “Care to explain what you were doing?”

“Shut up!” I shout, because I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to think about the night we all destroyed our lives. The night when Cam called us all, frantic, sobbing, scared. The night when he finally, finally tried to reach out but no one responded. The night when Tanner didn’t pick Cam from from tech crew because Cam’s parents were out of town, even though he promised, or when I was too preoccupied working on my art project to pick up the phone because couldn’t I just focus on me for once? Or when Jude couldn’t answer because he was too busy making out with Cam’s girlfriend.

The night he never went home and instead ran into the forest—to the lake—looking for something to hold onto.

They say he slipped. Hit his head. And then he drowned. And all of us could have stopped it.

I remember looking at the texts and dismissing them so easily.

Hey, the first one read. Tanner isn’t here yet.

Tech crew sucked. Like big time.

U busy?

Yes I am, actually, I had thought. I was selfish. In that moment, I had betrayed our ten-year long friendship. I had tossed my phone to the side. I didn’t see the rest of the texts until the next morning.

Pls.

Can we talk or somethin?

?

Adam?

The last text had ripped out my insides. He was begging, pleading for me to answer in his last act of desperation, and I had ignored every text. And so had every one of us.

“Can we just go home?” I say finally, collapsing down onto the ground.

“It’s probably best to wait until morning,” Jude suggests, nodding to the beer cans.

I look back down at the time. 9:02. What a long night it’s going to be.

Morning comes after a tantalizingly long wait and we pack up quickly and silently. Jude tosses the two leftover bud lites into his bag and settles for a coke as he hops into the passenger seat of Tanner’s Cutlas. I take to the back, shoved tightly in between all of our camping gear. The car is silent the whole ride home.

I make sure to smile to mom when I get back exclaim that everything went great and tell her the bruise on my forehead and the scratches on my arms are from typical teenage roughhousing, not from running derangedly after my dead best friend.

I make my way slowly up to my room and try to preoccupy myself by packing my backpack for school tomorrow. No one else is going to be thinking about Cam. Everyone else has moved on and is looking forward to bigger and better things. And yet I look around my room and all I see is Cam. The dozens of paintings and ancient easels caked with dry paint stacked up in the corner room are a constant reminder of the night I killed my best friend, but I haven’t had the courage to throw them out yet. I never wanted to touch a paintbrush after that night. I still don’t.  

I turn my back to the corner of abandoned art and shove my computer and notebooks into my backpack, more angrily than I intend to. Maybe he’s still out there, maybe he’s still waiting. That’s it: he’s probably waiting by the lake, waiting for all of us to return, and I realize that I have to go back,  I have to see him again, just one last time.

Maybe then the thoughts will stop.

I’m standing by my locker after school the next day when Jude walks up to me.

“What’s the rush? Your text seemed kinda urgent.”

“We gotta go back,” is all I say. I haven’t been able to concentrate all day. It’s just a constant stream of We gotta go back we gotta go back we gotta go back rushing through my head and I can feel the bubble of anxiety inside of my stomach about to explode.

“What do you mean?” Jude asks.

“To the forest,” I say impatiently. My heart is starting to pick up and I feel my hands starting to get clammy. “We have to go back. I’m freaking out, Jude, and I can’t take it anymore.”

“Look,” Jude says slowly, “I get what you’re saying, but I don’t think this is the best way to go about it. I think it’s best—”

“You don’t get it, do you?” I hiss, cutting him off before he can get any further. I know what he’s going to say and I don’t want anything to do with it. “He was my best friend.  And I can’t believe I just—just ignored him so easily. I didn’t want anything to do with him that night and I was so selfish and I’ve never been so sorry for something in my life. He was ripped away and he’s never coming back and there’s nothing I can do about it. It just hurts so fucking much.“

“You weren’t the only one who lost a friend that day, you know. He was my friend too, and Tanner’s. And I miss him just as badly as you do. Death is a part of life and we have to move on.” I shoot him a look that could cut glass, but Jude takes another breath.

“Why don’t you try talking to Dr. Clark again? Maybe we all could use it.”

I shake my head quickly. “I don’t need that psychoanalysis bullshit again.”

Jude runs his fingers through his hair, visibly annoyed.

“Fine. I’ll go with you. But this isn’t going to get better unless you help yourself first.”

“How can you be so fine about this? We just saw our dead friend the other night.”

Jude shifts his feet awkwardly. “Look, Adam. We were all a bit buzzed. Maybe…you know…maybe nothing really happened.”

“You sound like your mom talking,” I grumble.

His silence is all the response I need.

“You told her what happened?” I mutter through gritted teeth, getting more frustrated by the second.

“Well…yeah. I mean, I was visibly upset when I came home, and she questioned, and—you know how my mom is—it kinda just spilled out.”

I exhale sharply and slouch against my locker.

“Forget it. Forget I ever asked. I’m going on my own.”

“Adam, wait,” Jude starts, but I’ve already swung my backpack onto my shoulder and I’m darting through the crowd before he can say another word.

I throw my bag into the passenger seat of my car and rev the engine, feeling my hands and fingers throb as I grip the steering wheel. It’s a ten minute drive to the forest from school, but it seems as if I get there in two. My mind’s a whirl and I feel the pull of the trees as soon as I step out of my car. They’re calling me, beckoning me forward. No, Cam’s calling me.

Cam, is all I can think. Just let him be there. The trees leer over me, still unfamiliar, but I rush in anyway, letting my feet guide me to the lake.

There’s nothing but cold, damp foliage when I make it to the edge of the water. It laps at my shoes, soaking my feet instantly. I take a step back, glancing desperately to the left and right, looking for any sign of Cam.

But of course he doesn’t show, and I’m left standing by the edge of the water with a hollow pit in my stomach.

I don’t know what I was expecting.

Jude was right, about everything, and I just didn’t want to listen.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I kick a wad of mud as hard as I can, sending it sailing into the lake.

“What the hell do you want?” I screech, my voice raw. I’m  slowly going insane, slowly drowning in my thoughts, slowly losing who I was. I take a defeated step back and crumple to the ground, letting myself sink into the mud.

I bring my legs up to my chest and let my chin rest gently on my knees. Picking up a stick, I absentmindedly draw in the dirt while I watch the water in the lake lightly ebb and flow, ebb and flow. I think of everything I said to Cam, and everything I never said. My thoughts start to rattle and shake, but this time I let them.

Why don’t you paint anymore?

You know why, Cam.

Enlighten me.

I don’t want to say it. Don’t want to think it.

I’m waiting.

I take a breath. Because you made painting easy. You made everything easy. It was always us together. CamandAdam. And now I don’t know what to do and I don’t want to forget you but every time I pick up a paintbrush my mind goes back to that night and it makes me want to throw up every time I think about what I did.

You were going to be an painter, Adam. What about that? Adam, painter extraordinaire. Don’t give that up because of me.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I whisper, aloud.

It’s not going to make me disappear.

No no no, I think. Please don’t make me do this.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the thoughts, but they keep coming. And they’ll keep coming. They’ll never end unless—

I stop and grit my teeth.

Fine. You win this one, Cam.

I stand up, and despite the wave of dizziness that courses through by body, I start running, and it feels like finally, finally, I’m running towards something.

A half hour later, I stand at the tree line once more, carrying a canvas bag. The trees loom over me, and for a moment, I almost turn back. But I take a deep breath and, instead, I step forward.

I know this place like the back of my hand, I remind myself. The trees have sheltered me since I was little, and they will continue to do so.

With every step, I feel the trees becoming more alive, humming with energy. It doesn’t quite feel like a mystery anymore.

I feel the objects in the bag jostle around every time I take a step, reminding me why I’m here. I had rushed home to grab them, startling both of my parents as I busted through the front door and up the steps to my bedroom. My paint supplies were still piled up in the corner of the room where they had been for the last year, untouched, unmoving, unwanted. I walked over slowly to the pile, hesitant at first, my fingers twitching with anticipation. My chest ached as I crouched down and picked up a tube of red paint. I felt a familiar memory slip into the back of my mind, one of childhood games of tag with Cam during sunset, and my lips twitched into a nostalgic smile. I dug through the rest of the pile and pulled out the tube of yellow, and then of orange. Red, yellow, orange. All the warm colors. Cam’s favorite. I held onto them for a split second longer, allowing the memories to bubble, and then I shoved the paint into my canvas bag.

I’m at the lake now, and everything’s calm. The water’s like glass, slick and unmoving, waiting patiently for me. I close my eyes and tilt my head towards the sky, allowing the fear to wash over me, but then allowing it to subside. Are you there, Cam? I ask, but I know I’m just trying to stall the inevitable, and I force my feet to step forwards, despite the fact that they’re trying to tug me back, despite the fact that every fiber of my being is screaming at me to run away again. But I won’t do it. I’m tired of running.

I crouch down by the water and pull out the tubes of paint, fiddling with them in my hands. These were his. They were always his. Every time I painted and used these colors, I was thinking of him. They were never mine, and they never will be. I gently untwist the caps, one by one.

“Don’t worry, Cam,” I say aloud, “I think I’m gonna be okay.”

With one last exhale, I squeeze the tubes of paints together, holding my breath as they form into vibrant stream of sunset, and for a moment I’m stuck in time, watching contently as all the warm colors sink slowly away from sight.

[jaeminlore]

The First Time // Lee Seokmin

the prompt: (abridged) seokmin is your new neighbor, and after a bit of bonding, the two of you carry not only romantic, but domestic feelings for each other.

words: 3375

category: fluff on fluff

author note: you had me at seokmin and domestic feel like ever time I look at dk I think of how much of a husband/boyfriend vibe he gives off and to write a whole scenario based off of that??? i am blessed. also i suck at summaries but the request was rlly long so i tried to shorten it. i also changed the ending from dinner and tv to dancing bc i had more inspiration for the latter.

- destinee

-

The first time you saw him smile, you were wearing your ugliest outfit: old basketball shorts from your high school days, a paint-covered shirt from that one time you went volunteering, and your brother’s old Adidas sliders. Your hair was tragically unbrushed and gathered into a half-hearted updo, with flyaway hairs hanging over your eyes. Heck, you couldn’t even remember if you had put on deodorant this morning.

You had just moved into your apartment the night before, and were planning on dedicating your whole weekend to unpacking and setting up everything to your liking. Unpacking didn’t require getting dressed in nice clothes or brushing your hair. All it required was you, and your Spotify playlist turned all the way up.

In all the movies, there was a cliche of neighbors coming to greet you whenever you moved into a new home. However, in real life, that rarely ever happened, so you were surprised to hear a knock on your door at the early time of seven in the morning. When you swung it open, you certainly weren’t expecting to come face to face with an extremely handsome and well-groomed man, as opposed to your sluggish appearance.

“Ah… Hi,” you said quietly, trying not to be too intimidated as you looked in his eyes.

Fortunately, you had nothing to worry about. The man began to smile, his white teeth shining effortlessly. As his smile reached his eyes, you were pleasantly taken back as they formed into little half-crescents. Your heart stirred as he began to speak, his deep voice akin to honey or maple syrup in it’s sweetness. “Hello! I’m Lee Seokmin. I live in the apartment right beside yours so I thought I should be the first to welcome you in. I made cookies!”

He held up a large grocery bag, and your eyes widened to see a bunch of tupperware containers inside. Seokmin laughed nervously, “I didn’t know your preferences or if you had allergies or anything so I made you all the kinds I knew how to make! There are snickerdoodles, chocolate chip, peanut butter, sugar, oatmeal raisin, double chocolate… oh! I made red velvet ones for the first time but I haven’t gotten the chance to try them so I’m sorry if they suck.”

Your heart unconsciously warmed at the thoughtfulness this stranger had gone through just for you. He had thought about your wellbeing and for some reason that gave you the courage to invite him inside. “Do you want to sit down for awhile? It’s a bit messy but I’ve just brewed some coffee, and we can try the red velvet cookies together.”

Your suggestion made Seokmin light up even more, if that was possible. You giggled at his happy affirmation and ushered him inside. “Sorry it’s such a mess. I just moved in yesterday.”

Seokmin waved away your concern as he set the cookies on your empty kitchen island. “You should’ve seen my place when I first moved in. The boxes literally didn’t leave for months until my friend intervened and made me clean up.”

You grabbed two mugs out of a box and quickly washed them before pouring coffee for the both of you. After placing the sugar and cream on the table, you sat across from him. “How long have you lived here? Are the people friendly?”

Seokmin crinkled his nose in thought. “I think I’ve lived here for almost two years now. The neighbors aren’t rude, but they sure don’t talk to you. I’m just amazed you’re holding a conversation with me, to be honest.”

He seemed like the type of person who had a lot of friends, and you wondered if he ever felt lonely living in a complex with people who didn’t want to commute. “Well I can’t guarantee I’ll always be up for a chat, but you can come by any time to just hang out.”

Seokmin smiled. Then, his lips turned down into a frown. “I never got your name.”

“Oh, it’s Y/n.”

Seokmin grinned again, chuckling to himself for some reason unknown to you. “Well, Y/n, let’s dig into some red velvet cookies before we start unpacking.”

“You’re willing to help me?”

“Only if you let me pick the songs from time to time,” Seokmin said, winking at you.

-

The first time you heard him sing, you thought there was a ghost inside your walls. You decided to let yourself sleep in late, since you and Seokmin had unpacked until the early morning. You hadn’t expected the sound of someone’s loud singing to be your wake up call. With a groan, you rolled over and checked the time: eight in the morning. It wasn’t too early, but still, you preferred to go back to sleep. Unfortunately, you couldn’t, what with the loud screeching that came from the other side of your wall. Curiosity peaked, you sat up and listened, wondering if it was some kind of phantom howling inside of your walls.

The more you listened, the more your ears recognized that it wasn’t screeching at all, but rather singing. Beautiful singing, at that. The low tones that melted into high notes had you hoping for more. You recognized the song from the radio, although you couldn’t place remember the title or the artist. You wondered if that was Seokmin’s apartment. With the subtle sound of a shower running, you assumed he was getting ready for today. The singing voice sounded uncannily like his talking voice. You settled back into your bed and focused on his singing to lull you back to sleep.

-

The first time you fell in love, it came in the form of a cold and a headache. After searching your entire apartment for medicine that would calm your pain, you came to the conclusion that you hadn’t yet bought any medicine.

It was around ten at night, and you desperately hoped Seokmin was still awake. The last thing you wanted was to wake him up after he had just fallen asleep. Still, your migraine was throbbing against your skull in ways that made you want to throw up. You wrapped a blanket around your shoulders and walked to Seokmin’s apartment.

Seokmin was happy when he opened the door. He didn’t look tired at all, but rather refreshed. It seemed as if he had just taken a shower, for his hair was damp and slightly curly, dripping onto the towel around his neck. His skin was dark and clear, and you wondered how someone could be so beautiful just… standing there.

Then he smiled, and you knew.

“Hey, Y/n. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

You struggled to smile at him, but grimaced when your head began throbbing again. “Do you have any pain medicine? I’ve had the biggest headache since I got back from work today.”

Seokmin’s gaze grew concerned. His eyebrows turned up and his lips formed a slight pout. “Sure. Come in and lay on the sofa while I go get you some. I’ll make you tea too.”

You couldn’t argue in fear of actually throwing up on his feet, so you simply nodded and eased yourself onto his sofa. He returned quickly with pain killers and you swallowed them before settling back into the pale yellow cushions. His throw pillows were soft. As you closed your eyes to rest, you suddenly felt a heavy blanket being placed over your body. Seokmin tucked it under your chin and feet, making sure you were warm and cozy. Then, he reached over your head and pulled your hair away from your neck, allowing some cold hair to cool down your feverish skin. You squirmed, ticklish, as his lithe fingers trailed over your neck.

“Sorry,” he chuckled. “Sleep for awhile and I’ll wake you up when the tea is ready.”

“M'kay,” you whispered, already feeling the world around you stop spinning. “Thanks, Seokmin.”

“No problem,” he grinned and patted your knee.

When you woke up, Seokmin was sitting at the end of the sofa, reading a book. You watched him for awhile, his reading glasses slipping down his nose as he flipped his pages. “Hi.”

He jumped at your voice, then let out a breathy chuckle, biting his lip in embarrassment. “You’re up! Let me get the tea off the stove.”

You waited for him, rather touched at the fact that he was going through all of the trouble even though it was surely midnight by now. When Seokmin returned with lavender tea and one of his snickerdoodle cookies (“because adding a little spice to your life will make you happier”), you couldn’t help but feel a special little ping in your heart at his efforts. He must be this nice to everyone, so why did it feel so special when he was nice to you?

You sipped on the tea slowly. Not because it was hot, but rather because you didn’t necessarily want to leave Seokmin so soon. He felt like home, and his voice made you feel safe; comforted.

However, the tea wasn’t self-refilling, so it wasn’t long before you drank all of it. You handed Seokmin the empty mug, “Thank you. I’ll be going now. I hope I didn’t bother you too much.”

As you made your way to the door, a warm hand encased your wrist. Seokmin spun you around to face him. He was smiling again, but it was softer, more nurturing then you had seen before. “You know you could never bother me, right?”

“Right,” you whispered, for any sound louder would surely turn into a squeak.

-

The first time you kissed him, there was rust under his nails and sink water all over your kitchen floor.

On your day off, you decided to wash your dishes, since you had been letting cups and bowls pile into the sink for a few days now. Everything was fine. You were listening to music and cleaning dishes serenely. Everything was fine until you felt water creep under your sock-clad feet. Surprised, you jumped back to see water seeping out of the cabinet under your sink. “What..?” You hastily turned off the faucet and opened the cabinet door. Everything (which wasn’t much but stored paper towels and cleaners) was soaked, and there was a huge crack in the drain. With a sigh, you pulled out anything under the sink before running to your bathroom to grab as many towels as you could. Your hope was to soak up all the water that had already leaked before it molded your interior. In the end, the towels didn’t do much but soak up the water and sit there like some kind of cold slug.

You had no idea how to fix a sink. Still, you were willing to try. Your first step was buying tools that you definitely didn’t have, then maybe asking the workers at the hardware store for advice. After gathering your hair into a messy bun and pulling some sneakers over your damp socks, you ran outside with your keys and wallet as your accessories.

“Y/n?” Seokmin’s voice startled you as you were locking your door, so that you dropped your keys onto the floor. While bending down to pick them up, Seokmin walked up to you, “Hey, are you okay? You seem a bit off. And why are you covered in water?”

You smiled bashfully and scratched the back of your neck. Avoiding eye contact made it easier to talk to him, so you stared at your shoes. “My sink is leaking and I don’t know how to fix it so I was going to head to the hardware store…”

Seokmin’s eyes began to light up before you could even finish your sentence. “Is it the pipes underneath?”

“How’d you know?”

“Mine did the same thing last year! I think all the pipes are a bit old in this place.” Offering you a kind smile that reached his eyes, Seokmin shrugged, “I can help you if you want. I still remember how to fix it.”

You bit your lip and nervously looked away. “You really don’t need to do anything else for me. I’ll just go get some tools from the hardware store and fix it myself.”

Seokmin stopped you, once again, by latching onto your wrist. Only this time, he let his hand slip into yours. Swinging your hand back and forth, fingers intertwined, he looked into your eyes. “Please let me help, Y/n. I wouldn’t want you to spend a lot of money on tools that I already have.”

His touch sent tingles up your arms that only settled into butterflies at the pit of your stomach. “Uh, okay. If you insist. I’ll make you dinner, though, to make up for all you’ve done.”

Seokmin scoffed. “What have I done? I haven’t done anything for you.”

“That’s not true. You made me cookies and became my friend. There was that one time where you took care of me when I was sick. You didn’t have to do any of that stuff.”

“I wanted too,” Seokmin assured you, his eyes sincere as they searched yours. “I want to this for you, too.”

If he looked at you any longer, you were quite sure you might combust, so you simply nodded and looked away. “Alright. Have it your way. I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

He jumped up in victory and rushed back to his apartment to get his tools. Meanwhile, you struggled to calm your breathing. Did Seokmin have this effect on everyone? Did every person he touched, talked to, and smiled at feel a burning sensation in both their cheeks and the pit of their stomach? You pressed your lips together as you wondered.

Seokmin arrived minutes later in what he called his work clothes. All they were really, was a t-shirt tucked into blue jeans, subsequently tucked into work boots. He greeted you with his usual grin and made his way to your kitchen, tools under his arm. While you grabbed vegetables out of your fridge to begin cutting, Seokmin opened your cabinets and positioned himself on his back to better reach the pipes.

You couldn’t help but notice how horribly domestic this situation was. Him, fixing the sink and you, making dinner for the two of you to enjoy together once the was done. You were getting ahead of yourself with these thoughts, of course, so you shook your head idly and focused on the task at hand: cutting the vegetables.

“Y/n? Can you help me?” Seokmin grunted as he turned the wrench over and over, eventually separating the pipes.

“Sure.” You dropped your knife and came to his side.

“Thanks,” he said. “Can you grab my phone? I need the flashlight on it. It’s in my back pocket.”

“Your… back pocket?”

“Yeah, my hands are wet and I don’t wanna ruin it…” Seokmin trailed off, perhaps finally realizing what you were so hesitant about. “Oh! I’m sorry; I’ll get it. Just give me a towel.”

“It’s fine,” you rushed out, grabbing the phone before you could think anything of it. Cheeks burning, you opened up the flashlight widget and pointed it up into the pipe.

“That’s perfect, right there,” breathed Seokmin. “I need to make sure I have the right bolts…”

The two of you worked side by side like that for awhile: you grabbing anything he needed and him apologizing profusely for taking up so much of your time. You could only chuckle in irony, “You’re fixing my sink, Seokmin. Why wouldn’t I help you?”

He shrugged, but you could barely see it in the dim light. “You don’t have to help me anymore, I don’t think. All I have to do is fix this pipe in and I’ll be done. I don’t need a light for that.”

“If you’re sure.” You left him to his devices and hurried to get your vegetables and chicken on the stove. “We should have rice, too. Right?”

“Definitely.”

The two of you worked in silence. Through the occasionally clanging of pots and utensils, you could hear Seokmin begin to sing. His voice started out quiet, deep and halted. Then, as he grew more confident, it escalated into loud tones and sounds that carried throughout your apartment. At times, when you felt confident enough, you’d sing along with him.

He finished the sink seconds before the rice was done. His grin of accomplishment when he turned on the faucet and nothing came out was enough to make your whole night. “There you go, Y/n.”

“Thank you so much,” you said gratefully. You reached foreword and wrapped your arms around his torso, eliciting surprised laughter from him.

His arms were around your shoulders in an instant, and his laughter became muffled into your neck as he pulled you closer to him. “Wow. Dinner and a hug? Do you give these out to everyone who fixes your sink?” He pushed you at arms length, so he could look at your face, a cheesy smile adorning his own, “Or do you just give those out to the handsomest of plumbers?”

You ducked your head down in embarrassment and turned back to the stove, avoiding his cheeky question by plating the food. “Do you want more chicken on your plate or more vegetables?”

“Are you getting nervous?” With a chuckle, Seokmin suddenly hugged you from behind, freezing you in your place.

You set the plates down and turned around in his hold, your hands on his chest to keep him at a distance. “I’m not nervous, Seokmin. Now get a plate and sit on the couch.”

“Why don’t we dance instead?”

“D-Dance?”

You were well aware of his hand melding into the curve of your waist as the other reached for your hold. Intertwining your fingers together, he gave you another eye-twinkling grin, “Yeah. Have you ever slow danced before?”

“What about the food?”

“It’s got to cool down anyway,” Seokmin shrugged.

“What about music?”

Seokmin chuckled and spun you around, catching you in his arms, close enough to feel his breath on your forehead. “Do you not want to dance with me, Y/n? I thought we liked each other here.”

“We do? Oh! We do,” you said bashfully. “But… I don’t really know how to dance.”

“That’s what I’m here for, Darling.” Seokmin grabbed both of your hands and placed them behind his neck. His grip on your waist only tightened when his hands returned there, as if that’s where he had always meant to be. “Follow my lead.”

You did, trusting your optimistic neighbor with your entire gut. Seokmin wouldn’t let you fall or make a fool out of yourself. And if you somehow did, there was something telling you that he wouldn’t let you go through it alone. You hummed happily, closing your eyes and letting your fingers play with the strands of black hair that curled at his nape. Your socks had been discarded awhile back, and now it was just you and your bare feet over shallow puddles of sink water that should’ve been cleaned up a long time again. Seokmin’s work boots made squelching and squeaking noises every once in awhile, causing the two of you to giggle (especially if it caused him to slip and pull you hazardously around with him.)

His forehead was warm pressed against yours, and you weren’t sure if it was sweat from his hours of work or just his body temperature. You were quite sure Seokmin was the sun itself, so you didn’t think you’d be surprised if his touch burned everyone the same way if set your skin aflame.

His lips were smooth, and soft enough to make you want to feel them against yours again and again. You tugged on his hair, eliciting a low moan from the back of his throat. Suddenly, you were smiling against his lips, unable to contain the joy that he was bringing you and had brought you since you met him.

He was the first to part ways, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously. “S-Shouldn’t we– I mean, the food will get cold if we don’t stop soon.”

“Who’s the nervous one now, Lee?”

~the end~