#like…they just left an automated voicemail reminding me of everything… | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

marjansmarwani · 4 years ago

Text

hold you ‘til the morning comes

1.6k || ao3

Carlos has known nothing but fear since he first got the report that a firefighter had died in the line of duty. After hours of wondering, here TK was: very much alive, but far from okay. But Carlos is not going to let him suffer alone.

Inspired by the scene in the promo of Carlos comforting TK --- Carlos Reyes Week Day 7: Anything goes

This idea came to me while I was watching the promo and @officereyes, being the wonderful enabler she is, encouraged me to write it. I carefully avoided any mention of who dies so I could be right either way, but I have my theories. Anyways, enjoy some Carlos introspection as he worries about TK 💕

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When Carlos and Mya returned to the precinct, there was a tension hanging in the air.

At first, he ignores it, choosing instead to focus on the path to his desk and the prospect of sitting down. A volcano erupting in the center of the city had left everyone a little crazier than usual, and after a full shift on patrol, he wanted nothing more than to collapse at his desk and bury himself in paperwork for the remaining hour.

But as he and Mya headed to their adjoined desks, he could feel eyes on him.

“Am I imagining things, or are people staring?” he asked his partner under his breath.

Mya looked around and frowned. She paused in front of the desk diagonal to their own and stared down at its occupant, “What the hell is going on, Johnson?

Johnson, a young, quiet officer nearly jumped out of his skin at the mere prospect of being directly addressed by Mya. He swallowed nervously, glancing around the room before he responded as if hoping someone else would step in and save him. When no takers arose he swallowed again before speaking, “A report just came in. It...said that a firefighter died.”

Carlos froze mid stride, a cold dread seeping through his chest. He turned and faced Johnson, catching the worried gaze of his partner as he turned. He kept his voice as calm and steady as possible as he asked the question he desperately needed to know, “did it say which station?”

Johnson shook his head frantically, nearly vibrating out of his seat with anxiety in the weight of Carlos’s gaze, “no, sir.”

He felt Mya’s hand, warm and steady on his arm as she leaned closer, “there’s no saying it’s him, Carlos.”

He nodded, jaw tight, but didn’t voice what he was thinking: but there’s no saying it isn’t either.

Somehow his feet find their way to his desk where he sits, hyper aware of all the surreptitious glances thrown his way. It wasn’t just that it could be TK. It was that it could be Mateo or Judd, Paul or Marjan. It could be Owen, for all he knew. It could be any number of the members of the little family they had built for themselves in the midst of all the chaos and uncertainty, and Carlos didn’t want to lose any of them.

But it could be TK, and Carlos didn’t know how he was supposed to live with that.

The room was quiet and Carlos could feel more than one pair of eyes on him. He did his best to ignore them. He didn’t need their pity, and he had more than enough fear all on his own. He couldn’t really blame them though; in the months that he and TK had been together, his boyfriend had become known around the station. At first by virtue of being a fellow first responder himself, then later because he would stop by on days he was off to meet Carlos for lunch, or just to say hi. TK got on well with his coworkers, so he understood the heightened fear. They weren’t just worried for Carlos’s boyfriend, they were worried for their friend.

He ignored the whispers and Mya’s concerned gaze and pulled out his phone, hands trembling ever so slightly as he accessed his recent calls. He tapped on TK’s name and waited, each ring another spike of fear being driven into his soul. All too soon the automated voice of the voicemail sounded and Carlos ended the call, placing the phone on his desk without a word or a comment to anyone.

Not answering didn’t mean anything. TK often didn’t answer when he was on shift: it was hard to answer your phone when you’re scaling a building or doing whatever else the day might require.

Or that’s what Carlos told himself, at least.

He turned back to his paperwork, trying to bury himself in the routine, resisting the urge to check his phone every other second. The minutes tick by and soon his shift is over, but he can’t bring himself to leave. If he leaves and goes home to his empty condo, he might actually go crazy. So instead he stays, willing to trade off the unpaid overtime for the comforting monotony of paperwork.

At some point, he realizes that the desk in front of him is still occupied too. He looks up to find his partner sitting resolutely at her desk, shuffling through her own paperwork.

“Mya,” he began but she shook her head, effectively interrupting him.

“I go home when you go home,” she declared firmly. “I’m going to be here for you no matter what, so just get over it.”

Despite everything, he had to smile. “Okay,” he agreed, knowing when to admit defeat. He turned back to his paperwork, but not before checking his phone one more time. There were still no new messages, and he tried to ignore just how much further his heart sank each time.

He had just turned back to his paperwork when the sound of loud voices outside the room filter to his desk.

“They’re saying that fireman just ate it,” someone was saying, “he was dead before they could even get to him.”

Eyes all over the room turned to Carlos, some more subtly than others, and clenched his jaw, determined to keep his expression neutral.

“Carlos,” Mya began, already halfway out of her seat with the likely goal of telling whoever was talking to kindly shut the fuck up, but he shook his head.

“It’s fine Mya, I’m just going to step outside and try calling him again.”

She nodded and gave him a tight smile as he grabbed his phone and headed towards the back door. He opened it and stepped out onto the stairs, taking a deep breath of the crisp night air. It doesn’t fortify him as it usually does, but there is only one thing in the world that could make him feel better tonight.

The fear that he has been burying inside his chest all night is ready to burst but he pushes it down one more time. There’s still no saying it’s him, there’s still no saying that he has anything to fear at all. He pulls out his phone with shaking hands, ready to try again and already dreading the sound of his voicemail. He’s just about to dial when he sees someone at the bottom of the staircase. He frowns, pocketing his phone. This isn’t the public entrance to the precinct. Most people didn’t even know it existed. He was about to call down, to see what the strange figure wanted when they stepped into the yellow light of the floodlight and their features came into focus and suddenly Carlos couldn’t breathe.

He took the stairs two at a time, rushing down to TK, because it was TK. He was here, he was standing, and he was alive. He might just be the most beautiful thing Carlos had ever seen.

He called TK’s name as he rushed down and when his boyfriend looked up at him Carlos was struck by the sadness in his eyes even from a distance.

He slowed as he approached, taking in his appearance. He seemed to be unhurt, as far as Carlos could tell, but he looked smaller than Carlos had ever seen him.

He stopped short of pulling TK into his arms, though he wants to so desperately. He studies him up close first, before speaking, “There were reports saying a firefighter had died and you weren’t answering your phone. I...” he trailed off, not sure how to explain what he had spent the past few hours feeling and not wanting to burden TK any more with his own feelings when the other man was clearly drowning in the weight of his own.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

TK’s voice is too small and Carlos’s heart aches, “It’s fine,” he assures him, “I’m just happy you’re safe.”

He wants to ask what happened, he wants to ask all the questions echoing through his mind but TK is shaking and Carlos feels fear start to climb up his spine again, “Are you hurt?”

“No,” TK assures him, “I’m not hurt. I’m okay.”

As they stand on the stairwell and look at each other Carlos reflects that in all their time together, that might just be the biggest lie TK has ever told him. He steps forward, hesitantly at first but when TK makes no move to stop him he pulls him into his arms, sheltering his shaking body with his own. He can feel TK’s body sag into his, losing some of the tension. It’s only a moment before he can feel his shoulder getting wet as TK’s body quakes with silent sobs. He pulls them down so they are sitting on the stairs and gently rests his chin on the top of TK’s head, running a hand in soothing circles on his back.

His boyfriend is safe and he is beyond grateful. He wants to bask in the feeling of TK in his arms and the knowledge that he is safe, that he hadn’t lost him, but it feels selfish in the face of TK’s grief. He had lost someone today, and though Carlos doesn’t know the details, he understands. Whether or not it was someone from his station, whether or not it was someone from his team, the loss of any firefighter could feel like the loss of a family member. It could also serve as a reminder of what he stood to lose every day; that when the ones closest to you are the ones running into the fire beside you, there is so much more to risk.

Carlos would ask those questions later, he would help him through it, whatever it was. For now, they would just sit here, curled together in the stairway, savoring the warmth and existence of each other.

Everything else could wait, for now.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #carlos reyes #tk strand #tarlos #911ls season 2 #my writing #carlosreyesweek2021 #userkimmy #userac #usermaximus #userjilly #tuserpaige #tuserjamie #jazzyjezz #aanathema

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uwua3 · 5 years ago

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bunnie!!! ur mind!!! the songs fit each member so well omg,,, i kept singing each song lmao,,, also may i present to u: spring day for tsumugi and tasuku (esp for before + start of winter troupe main story) 👀

now this... this is what i wanted someone to REQUEST!!! i had to take a break from writing an angst song fic to write ANOTHER angst song fic because i genuinely love this prompt so much!!! thank you so much for reading my mind, pines, omg!!! it’s good to see you again~ also, i like your blue theme!

summary: tsumugi came back to him like the first snow of every winter

warnings: break ups, hatred, heartbreak

author’s note: ok tala already basically wrote out the plot for me but here we go ~ Angst ~ for the boys and it’ll be a song fic, so expect it to follow the lyrics! i wrote this with the canon idea in mind that tasuku and tsumugi are ex–boyfriends turned lovers again so don’t be surprised from the #Gay~ happy pride!

sometimes, you’re with the right person at the wrong time. if they come back, it’s meant to be and it’ll be okay ♡ remember, communication is key!

word count: 6,509

music: spring day (jpn) – bts

spring day.

❄️📚⚽️ tsukioka tsumugi x takoto tasuku

I MISS YOU, SAYING THIS MAKES ME MISS YOU EVEN MORE,

I MISS YOU, EVEN THOUGH I’M LOOKING AT YOUR PHOTO

TIME’S SO CRUEL, I HATE US

SEEING EACH OTHER FOR ONCE IS NOW SO HARD BETWEEN US

Tsumugi was gone, like he never existed.

Every trace of him that was ever in Tasuku’s life was gone, there was nothing left. The apartment was left empty, bare, lifeless; it felt nothing like home, not anymore. When Tasuku searched the apartment, there was truly nothing that resembled any evidence Tsumugi was even alive. It was as if, he didn’t want Tasuku to remember him. To forget, to ignore the person he had shared his entire life with.

Tasuku paused at the one sign Tsumugi was real: the single framed picture near the front door. It was placed on the counter, the same stand where the couple would drop their keys at so they knew where everything was. Tasuku wanted to hear the sound of the metal clattering against the ceramic bowl Tsumugi crafted in pottery class, to hear Tsumugi affectionately call out, “I’m home!”, and for his brown peacoat jacket to be hung on the hook behind the door. Tasuku wanted Tsumugi to come back.

When Tasuku picked up the picture, his hand was shaking. Tasuku remembered this exact frame: the day he realized he was in love with his best friend. Tsumugi’s blue eyes were staring straight at the Tasuku with an indescribable look, an expression created and meant for Tasuku only. Characters closer than rehearsal called for, like they were the only two people in the world. It was moments before Tasuku had leaned in and kissed his co–star on stage on opening night, going against the script and changing the rest of his life forever.

Tsumugi looked alive. Real, like he could’ve just had him forever right then and there. A tear dropped onto the glass, running down the frame before Tasuku covered his mouth with his free hand, falling down to his knees as he held the photo to his chest. He couldn’t help but cry, cry for all the years he had spent loving someone who just left. Being in love with a man who woke up and took everything with him, disappearing into thin air. All Tasuku had left of Tsumugi were the memories, and this single picture.

Tasuku exhaled, his breath coming out short and ragged as he stared at the picture again despite knowing every detail. He could feel everything: the intense heat of the stagelights upon them, the shocked stares of the cast and murmurs backstage, the overwhelming applause and standing ovation from the crowd after the scene. The way Tsumugi couldn’t let go of his hand, trembling under the sudden attention but never faltering.

Tasuku remembered how he stood in front of Tsumugi anytime someone questioned it, feeling his gentle touch at the base of his back for comfort. The endless lingering stares in practice, the unanswered questions about how this happened, the kiss on stage that was too real. How that night, Tsumugi pulled them into the apartment for more like he couldn’t wait anymore after all these years just to say, “I love you, Ta–chan”.

Tasuku’s tears streamed down his face silently, for once feeling the anguish and heartbreak his roles felt. The abandoned apartment was only Tasuku’s, like Tsumugi didn’t spend the last three years living with him. It was as if, Tsumugi never loved him.

Tasuku loved Tsumugi, so, so much.

IT’S ALL WINTER HERE, EVEN IN AUGUST

MY HEART IS RUNNING ON THE TIME

ALONE ON THE SNOWPIERCER

WANNA GET TO THE OTHER SIDE OF THE EARTH, HOLDING YOUR HAND

Tasuku was gone, and it was all his fault.

Tsumugi gripped the ticket in his hand, staring down the luggage he hastily packed. It was nearly bursting at the seams as he fiddled with the buckles, making sure nothing could hold him back from leaving his home. Nothing could keep Tsumugi from staying, as he silenced his phone and pocketed it away, missing the tens of calls and hundreds of text messages from his one and only. Tsumugi knew if he even checked for a second, he’d come running back to the man he loved most only to fail him again.

Tsumugi leaned back in his seat in the waiting area, surrounded by few, none of whom recognized him. How could they, when he had given up on succeeding as an actor like a coward? Tsumugi pulled up the collar of his jacket, slouching into his coat to hide from the rest of the world. He didn’t deserve to show his face, not after everything he did to Tasuku.

Tasuku would’ve woken up by now to go on his morning run. Tsumugi was supposed to beg him not to go, wanting the warmth to stay in bed just a little longer. Tasuku was supposed to firmly say no, give a kiss on the cheek as compensation, but come back much sooner than expected with a pretty flower he picked for Tsumugi. Tsumugi would get up and put in a vase, and the two would share breakfast together like always. It was the same for the past three years, Tsumugi felt his stomach rumble, he wasn’t a fan of breaking routine.

Tsumugi stared at his ticket, luckily recognizing the location he picked. He had to go, to leave, to abandon everything he had here with Tasuku that he impulsively arrived at the station with nothing but a suitcase and hopes for amnesia. However, it could’ve helped if Tsumugi even knew where this town was in Japan exactly, where his new start would be. He just knew it was far enough, and Tasuku would never find him there.

Tsumugi couldn’t help but think of how Tasuku must have been doing. Was he okay? Did he just think Tsumugi was out doing random errands? They were low on eggs, that could’ve bought him some time. Yet, some part of him, some selfish, undeserving fraction of his heart, wanted Tasuku to be running to the train station and taking him home. Back into his arms and safe from every insecurity Tsumugi ever had, Tsumugi wanted to come home.

As Tsumugi stood up, clutching his luggage with him and turning towards the exit to apologize to his boyfriend, the automated voice overheard announced his train was leaving in five minutes. Tsumugi stopped, the crowd pushing against his direction as they all headed towards the train. Tsumugi slowly turned too, forcing himself towards the entrance as he looked back once. Tasuku wasn’t there, maybe he didn’t want him to come back.

Tsumugi entered the train and found his seat, refusing to look out of his window. If he did, he would’ve saw Tasuku sprinting down the train station corridors and missing the train that took off.

If only, Tsumugi closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window as he sat alone, he was enough for Tasuku.

But, he wasn’t. Not now.

WANNA PUT AN END TO THIS WINTER

HOW MUCH LONGING SHOULD WE SEE SNOWING DOWN, TO HAVE THE DAYS OF SPRING, FRIEND?

When Tasuku departed the train station, out of breath from his fastest mile time yet, it began to snow. God must’ve hated him, wanted him to suffer, because Tasuku dropped down onto a bench for cover and stared at the snowflakes. He thought about how Tsumugi would’ve reacted, knowing how much his lover adored the winter season.

It was when Tsumugi’s timid, shy voice would amplify when he discussed anything he loved (did Tsumugi ever do that when the topic approached Tasuku?). Tsumugi would excitedly rave about the Christmas lights decorating the mall plaza that illuminated every shadow on his face in a rainbow of colors, the peppermint candy cane in his hot chocolate with those tiny marshmallows Tasuku always found too sweet but pretended to like anyways, even the minature train set up for the little kids to ride on and the fake but enthusiastic Santa sitting on a throne (Tsumugi liked reminding everyone Tasuku believed in Santa until third grade, much to his embarrassment).

Most importantly, Tsumugi loved the snow. When the first snow came, Tsumugi dropped everything he was doing to run outside and take it all in. More than once, Tasuku had to follow his boyfriend and attempt to convince Tsumugi to come inside or else he’d get sick. But, when Tasuku saw the white snowflakes surrounded Tsumugi’s midnight blue hair like a halo, the youthful energy building in his wide, happy eyes, and the way Tsumugi’s cheeks were flushed just waiting to be adored, Tasuku would stay outside for his angel even if it meant nursing him back to health.

Tasuku reached his hand out, feeling the soft embrace of the snow upon his fingertips. Was this a sign Tsumugi was still with him? Or, was this the universe’s fucked–up way of telling him to move on? His hand started shaking again, Tasuku dropped it to his side, wondering if it was because the temperature dropped significantly or he was still experiencing the side–effects of an anxiety attack. Frustrated, Tasuku wiped the tears off his face as he took out his phone and tried again. It went straight to voicemail, and Tasuku blinked away the remaining tears as he looked up at the grey clouds.

“Hello~ This is Tsukioka Tsumugi, I’m so sorry for not responding! If you have a message, please share at this beep! Beep~”

Tasuku hung onto every word, pretending like Tsumugi was next to him admiring the snow with awe. But, he wasn’t, not now or not ever for the next few years. Tasuku shivered, steeling his face as he sadly stared at the snow, wishing it wasn’t winter.

“Look outside. It’s the first snow.” Tasuku simply stated before hanging up, standing up and leaving the station. Tasuku didn’t look back, there was nothing for him left anymore, not even Tsumugi.

The snow seemed to follow him home, Tasuku wondered if the snow would bring Tsumugi back to him. Back home, back to him.

LIKE THE TINY DUST FLOATING IN THE AIR

WILL I GET TO YOU FASTER, IF I WAS THE SNOW IN THE AIR?

Tsumugi woke up just a hour later, awaken by the train chugging along the icy tracks as the passengers murmured something about the cold. Blinking slowly, Tsumugi adjusted his eyes to the darkened sky as he watched the urban city transform into a rural, country landscape. Yet, no matter where he went, there was snow.

Sitting up, Tsumugi pressed his face against the glass as he giddily admired the first snow of the winter season. He turned to the empty seat next to him, a big smile on his tired face.

“Ta–chan, look—” Tsumugi started, before his voice faded off to silence. An awkward, sheepish laugh left his lips when Tsumugi noticed the train attendant was shooting odd glances at him, though he expected some reaction since Tsumugi was an adult talking to nothing. Tsumugi shuffled back to look through the window, but it wasn’t the same. When was the last time he had experienced the first snow alone? Tasuku was always with him, but not anymore.

The snow swirled like it was a graceful waltz, and Tsumugi fondly remembered him and Tasuku’s first dance. It was perhaps a year into living together as roommates, and it was much later than they had anticipated. The radio was on, classical music a low hum in the background as Tasuku and Tsumugi studied their new scripts. It was another college play and the two were meant to learn ballroom dancing for their roles.

Tsumugi remembered the way Tasuku’s large frame let Tsumugi rest his head comfortably on his chest, the way their hands perfectly fit together, how they swayed in their empty kitchen like they were married. Tsumugi faintly traced his lips, remembering how Tasuku was about to lean in when he looked down, but Tsumugi had laughed and pushed him away, talking about how Tasuku always got too serious and connected to his characters. He regretted it, he should’ve kissed Tasuku back then.

Tsumugi finally broke down, trying to keep in his sobs as he tried to focus on the snow. He curled into a fetal position on the seat, closing his jacket around his mouth as he slammed his eyes shut. He knew his sniffles couldn’t be heard over the train operating, so he cried underneath the first snow.

Tsumugi didn’t even kiss Tasuku before he left forever.

SNOWFLAKES FALL DOWN AND GET FARTHER AWAY LITTLE BY LITTLE

I MISS YOU, I MISS YOU

HOW LONG DO I HAVE TO WAIT AND HOW MANY SLEEPLESS NIGHTS DO I HAVE TO SPEND TO SEE YOU, TO MEET YOU

Tsumugi stepped into the snow. After thanking the train conductor and checking out, the quiet town was covered in snow by the time he arrrived. It was still early afternoon, the tall skyscrapers and bustling citylife were gone, it was quiet now. This would be his community for the rest of his life, just hours away from his home. He was about to become a new person, but, how could he when the snow followed wherever he was?

Tsumugi stood at the entrance, not blocking anyone’s way since no one was there to begin with. It was just him underneath the roof of the station, waiting by the route map for a bus. It should be here in the next thirty minutes, so Tsumugi leaned against the exterior with a sigh, his breath soldifying mid–air. It was cold, frozen almost and Tsumugi’s hands felt like ice from being outside. It was winter, after all.

Fidgeting, Tsumugi shifted back and forth as he tried to find something to look at other than the snow. But, the vast land stretched for miles, buried in white like a snow globe. There was nothing here, and Tsumugi was afraid there was nothing for him as well.

A buzz. It caught Tsumugi’s attention as he impulsively checked his phone despite his rule not to. The silence must’ve turned off after a certain amount of time, as Tsumugi scrolled through the notifications bar. Just some colleagues congratulating him on his move, and family members requesting postcards. That was it, Tsumugi was about to close out of the messages before he noticed a number he memorized near the voicemail section.

Tsumugi pressed speaker, putting the phone next to his ear as he heard the stomp of work boots against the snow. And then, a quiet shudder, like a breath he held in for too long. Tasuku spoke but it sounded far away, like he really wasn’t there anymore.

“Look outside. It’s the first snow.” The line ended and Tsumugi blinked, trying to keep his tears in but he was so exhausted. Tsumugi dropped down to sit against the wall, sobbing loudly with no one to hear him for miles. Tsumugi held the phone to his chest, replaying the voicemail over and over again just to hear the love of his life’s voice. The same as always, never–changing and serious like his life depended on it.

Tsumugi cried and cried under the first snow until his bus arrived, the driver staring at him with something of concern. Tsumugi pushed himself back up at the sound of the bus stopping and gripped his bag, heading up the stairs and trying to pay the fare respectfully. A single word wasn’t exchanged, but the driver simply shook his head and gestured for him to go sit anywhere he wanted.

Tsumugi was too tired to insist on paying, just numbly nodded and rested his head against the window.

He wondered if Tasuku was looking at the same sky as him right now.

PASSING BY THE EDGE OF COLD WINTER

UNTIL THE DAYS OF SPRING, UNTIL THE DAYS OF FLOWER BLOSSOMS

PLEASE STAY, PLEASE STAY THERE A LITTLE LONGER

Tasuku called Tsumugi every day until the number was changed. He had left voicemails updating Tsumugi of his day, his days that were all the same. Every time Tasuku tried to apologize, his pride couldn’t make him say sorry without sounding like he was being forced, so he didn’t. Tasuku didn’t insist Tsumugi to come home, only to stay safe and take his time.

Tasuku told Tsumugi about their favorite theatre holding another play, one which he would have gotten front row tickets for. About how strangely quiet it was, not having to keep a watering of plants schedule anymore, having to wake up and go to sleep alone, not knowing where Tsumugi was. Tasuku spoke more than he ever did back then, knowing if this was his only way to be in touch with Tsumugi, he was going to take it and run like hell.

It was mid–winter early morning, and Tasuku was running, phone against his ear as he instinctually nearly picked a flower to bring home. He stopped, slightly panting as he waited for Tsumugi’s typical voicemail, but it didn’t beep. Instead, it was an automated voice, informing him this number was currently inactive.

Tasuku realized, that number was one of the only things he had left of Tsumugi.

Tasuku hung up, in disbelief as he pocketed his phone. Did he even listen to his voicemails? Where was he? Why couldn’t he just answer? Tasuku was about to phone Tsumugi again just to make sure, but one look at his contact picture was enough to make him stop and put it away. He knew too much about Tsumugi, but he had never felt this confused about someone in his entire life. Was this, for the best? Why did he change his number? Was this a sign?

Perhaps, it was finally time to move on, as the snow fell around Tasuku.

IS IT YOU WHO CHANGED, OR IS IT ME?

I HATE THIS MOMENT, THIS TIME FLOWING BY

WE ARE CHANGED, YOU KNOW

JUST LIKE EVERYONE YOU KNOW

Tsumugi tried to moved on, forgetting all about his past as he buried himself in his work and need to just ignore his past. He regularly updated his family on his predicament, claiming it was his mid–life crisis despite being in his early twenties. None of them asked about Tasuku, it was like they knew what had happened between them. Tsumugi built himself a life on a lie, conversing well with co–workers but coming back to an empty apartment at the end of the day.

At night, that’s when Tsumugi thought about Tasuku the most. Laying in bed through the sleepless nights without any want to close his eyes. How could he when all Tsumugi could see was Tasuku, Tasuku who he left because he was scared. Tsumugi stared up at the ceiling, the moonlight coming in through his open window as the curtains swayed slightly in the wind. The room was blue, and so was Tsumugi.

Leaving wasn’t planned, but it wasn’t a quick decision, either. Tsumugi remembered it all, falling in love with his best friend which he wasn’t worthy of. It was the night before everything changed, the last argument they had together. It was late, so late Tsumugi couldn’t keep his eyes open without crying when Tasuku raised his voice. He knew he didn’t mean to, he knew that now.

But back then, Tsumugi was so scared and trembling and terrified of how big Tasuku was. How intense he was with everything he said, the unrelenting passion burning and fueling Tasuku to do everything he did. Tasuku was fire, uncontrollable, raging flames that over time, melted Tsumugi to be nothing but a weak form of who he used to be.

“Tsumugi, why do you always give up like this? You can’t quit, you can’t keep doing this!” Tasuku demanded an answer, slamming his fist down on the kitchen table as he stood up, making Tsumugi flinch in his usual seat. When Tsumugi had told Tasuku they needed to talk, he didn’t expect this. Not the burning anger in Tasuku’s eyes, like this was the ultimate betrayal: to quit acting.

“I... I’m so sorry, Ta–chan.” Tsumugi tried to smile, but his form was shaking. He was shivering despite waking up in the middle of the night in Tasuku’s arms. Tasuku scoffed, like this whole situation was unbelievable, like he didn’t even know who Tsumugi was.

“We—you promised we’d be acting on the same stage together, to be in the same troupe together, do you remember that?” Tasuku spoke, all the frustrations he hid inside him coming out and singing every corner of Tsumugi’s stability. Tsumugi nodded carefully, trying to hide his shaky hands underneath the table as he gripped the base of the chair. He couldn’t start crying, not right now, not in front of Tasuku.

“I know, but I can’t. Not anymore, not when I can’t be the actor you want me to be.” Tsumugi tried to reason, but Tasuku just became even angrier. Like, this was the worst possible thing he could have ever said to him. Tsumugi wanted to reach out and flatten the creases on Tasuku’s forehead, gently cup his face with his trembling hands just to show he still loved him. But when Tsumugi tried to move closer, Tasuku held his hand up, like he couldn’t bear being anywhere near Tsumugi.

“Why do you keep doing this? Why... when we’re happy together?” Tasuku asked, but even he sounded unsure. Was Tsumugi happy with this relationship? Was this why he was quitting? Tsumugi didn’t say anything, just stared at his lover in silence with the pain of a thousand lifetimes. As if, this was his breaking point. Like, acting was slowly killing him to the point he had to run away. Or was it their relationship that pushed Tsumugi away? Did it go too fast? Was it not enough?

“What does this mean for us?” Tsumugi finally choked out, clearing his throat at his voice crack towards the end. The clock ticked, onward and onward even though it felt like time stopped. Tasuku just shook his head and went back into the bathroom. Tsumugi knew, this was the end.

Before Tasuku went, he stopped at the entrance and looked at Tsumugi, with something of tiredness and love all at once. Like, there was still a chance. “Let’s talk about this tomorrow morning, okay?” Tasuku offered, not questioning a thing when Tsumugi nodded with his fingers crossed behind his back.

Tsumugi stayed in the kitchen, keeping in his sobs as he let the tears finally fall down his face. He didn’t know ending his career would feel like the end of his first and only relationship.

Tsumugi went into their shared bedroom after he composed himself, but had to hang onto the door frame when he saw Tasuku was sleeping again, just with dried tears on his pillow. Tsumugi couldn’t do this to Tasuku, not when he couldn’t be the best actor for his boyfriend.

So, Tsumugi just took the suitcase he packed beforehand in case worst came to worst, he didn’t expect to use it. Tsumugi quietly was about to leave the bedroom, but looked back, wanting nothing more than to go back to bed and pretend like this break up never happened. He knew how much Tasuku must’ve been hurting, to have all these years acting together thrown away. Tsumugi couldn’t be selfish this time, not anymore, and left without another word.

Tsumugi always remembered it, how Tasuku cried himself to sleep because Tsumugi quit. That was all he could do, give up when it became too hot. That’s all he always did, nothing changed.

Tsumugi listened to the voicemails one last time, crying into his pillow as he heard the man he loved’s voice echo in his bedroom. He knew, he had to let go, to force Tasuku to move on. How could Tasuku love him after all this time, when he wasn’t the person he thought Tsumugi was? Which life was a lie, this one or the one where he acted on stage with Tasuku?

When Tsumugi changed his number, he didn’t look back. He had to move on, too, even if he was still in love with his best friend. Tsumugi would never see Tasuku again, knowing he was somewhere living his dream of acting was enough, that was more than enough. Tsumugi closed his eyes as the snow embraced him, falling delicately upon his eyelashes as a single tear dropped to the ground.

Tsumugi promised one day, he would see Tasuku on stage again.

YES I HATE YOU, YOU LEFT ME

BUT I NEVER STOPPED THINKING ABOUT YOU, NOT EVEN A DAY

HONESTLY I MISS YOU, BUT I’LL ERASE YOU

‘CAUSE IT HURTS LESS THAN TO BLAME YOU

Tasuku couldn’t move on. Not when he didn’t know where his boyfriend disappeared to, not when no one refused to tell him anything and lied their way out of the situation. It was as if everybody knew but Tasuku, as if he wasn’t that important to know to begin with. He couldn’t accept that Tsumugi was gone, that he was somewhere else out of his reach.

Recently, Tasuku started sleeping sooner just to dream of his face again. But it had been so long, that even small details he cherished were beginning to become blurry, faded even. It was better than nothing, pretending the love of his life was still here with him. Like he never left, like he had no reason to leave.

Why did he leave? Tasuku came home from practice and slammed the door that night, shaking the room as he entered. Without warning, glass shattered next to his feet as a picture frame fell. Tasuku picked it up with his bare hands, ignoring the sudden cut he got on his fingers as he gripped the frame tightly, staring at the picture with a sudden anger. Rage, undeniable, full–blown frustration that boiled ever since Tsumugi left. Something Tasuku had been avoiding to confront, something he didn’t want to do to avoid satisfying the demons.

But, Tasuku was so angry. Why did Tsumugi quit acting without telling him before the decision? Didn’t he trust him, why didn’t he trust him? Tasuku swore, kicking the pieces of glass to fly across the floor. What did he do wrong? Why wasn’t he worthy of Tsumugi’s love? Tasuku was shaking with rage, staring at Tsumugi’s photographed face and wondering if everything the angel convinced him of was a ploy, a fabricated web of lies that trapped him like a fool. Did Tsumugi even love him? Why did he lie about tomorrow morning? Why did he leave?

Why did he quit on them?

Tasuku shouted, releasing all the pent–up grief inside him as he threw the frame at the wall with a sickening thud, watching as it smashed even more. Why did he quit? Why, why, why? If only they talked the next morning, maybe Tasuku could’ve persuaded him to keep going, to stay with him, to not give up. Tasuku carefully went over to the photo, pulling out of the frame as he held it with both hands, sadly staring at Tsumugi. This was all he had left of him.

Tasuku tried to rip it in half, but his hands didn’t move. There was nothing he could have done, he couldn’t bring himself to break his heart even more. Tasuku let out a strangled sob, letting the picture flutter to the floor as he roughly pushed his own tears away, hating how tired he was from crying so much.

This was all he had left of Tsumugi, but maybe he didn’t want it anymore. Tasuku caught sight of the nightly snow. Maybe, he had to move on or else there would be nothing left for him.

Wherever Tsumugi was, it wasn’t with Tasuku, and that was the greatest betrayal of all.

I TRY TO EXHALE YOU IN PAIN, LIKE SMOKE, LIKE WHITE SMOKE

I SAY THAT I’LL ERASE YOU, BUT I CAN’T REALLY LET YOU GO YET

Tsumugi sat back row, farthest away from the stage years later. It was closing night for God Troupe, unforeseeably Tasuku’s last show for the troupe as Tsumugi watched with tears. Tasuku had grown so much, got even stronger and had the same stoic, serious persona as always. But his passion was even more electric, more intense, and more fiery all at once. It burned every time Tasuku immersed his entire soul in his character and it was like he wasn’t even himself anymore. Tsumugi almost didn’t recognize him, but his heart called out like it was still in love.

Tsumugi needed closure, just one last time he’d see his best friend. Although years had passed, Tsumugi still loved him and thought of Tasuku every time. He knew Tasuku didn’t feel the same, at least, not anymore. But, he promised himself that he would see Tasuku on stage again, Tsumugi couldn’t keep breaking his honor anymore, he had to keep this word. Tsumugi thought about his life, and how it was split between life before and after Tasuku, but no matter which stage he was at, Tasuku was always there.

Tasuku was always there, but not Tsumugi. Tsumugi left on his own accord, and to this day, he regretted it. As the show ended and Tasuku took a graceful bow towards the audience, Tsumugi gripped the bouquet of flowers in his hands as he shook, hiding behind the audience giving a standing ovation. There was no way in his right mind he could walk up and expect Tasuku to accept him back into his life, because that was unfair. To come back after all these years, not anymore, he had his wish fulfilled, now it was time to leave again.

Before Tsumugi could leave into the train station and disappear into the night, a flyer flew across the sky as it landed directly in front of Tsumugi’s feet. As he was about to board the train, Tsumugi picked it up and read the title, auditions for a threatre troupe named Mankai. He had seen their Autumn Troupe play, and it even made him want to step onto stage again. The doors were about to close, about to take Tsumugi away from Veludo Way and Tasuku forever. He didn’t know what possessed him to do so, but Tsumugi quickly departed and hurried out of the station. Auditions were tomorrow, something told him he had to be there.

Tsumugi stared at the white roses, feeling the thorns pierce his palm as he exhaled into the frigid air. It was about to be winter again, after all these years, he’d have his first snow under the same sky as Tasuku again.

Tsumugi couldn’t leave again, not now. Tsumugi wanted to be worthy of giving white roses to Tasuku.

YOU KNOW IT ALL, YOU’RE MY BEST FRIEND

THE MORNING WILL COME AGAIN, NO DARKNESS, NO SEASON IS ETERNAL

Practice was tense with everything left unsaid between the two leads. Tasuku and Tsumugi saw each other after a street act, and the rest was unexplained history. The moment Tsumugi saw his ex–boyfriend, he winced when Tasuku glared at him with all the hatred in the world. He knew he deserved it, but it didn’t hurt any less.

Nothing could have indicated Tasuku still loved him: every time Tsumugi walked into a room, he’d leave muttering about the burden he had to carry, when Tsumugi was talking, he looked like he wasn’t listening, sometimes when Tsumugi acted, Tasuku wasn’t even connected to his character and would just refuse to cooperate. It was hurting the play, Tsumugi didn’t know what to do as the leader of Winter Troupe but also as a lovesick liar in love with his best friend.

Tasuku was rightfully angry. He had been angry ever since he broke that picture frame, it was the official end of their relationship. Tasuku never thought he’d see Tsumugi’s face again on Veludo Way, not after missing each and every single one of his God Troupe shows. Here he was, claiming his place in Tasuku’s broken heart like he had never left. But, he did. Tsumugi did leave and abandon him to the city, giving no answers and only raising more questions after all these years. How could he come back after all he did? Tasuku was angry, but he didn’t know if he was spiteful towards what happened between them or scared that Tsumugi might run away again.

Every time Tsumugi acted, it was like they were back in college all over again. Tsumugi never changed despite his multiple years of being on break, his acting style was subdued and simple, subtle but honest, it carried more feeling than Tasuku could ever describe. They were opposites, Tasuku was not everflowing like water, he wasn’t adaptable and constant like a river bend, but crackling with energy and passion like a flame. Maybe, that’s why Tsumugi left, so he wouldn’t extinguish both of them.

When Tsumugi looked into his eyes at the practice room, Tasuku’s breath hitched in his throat as he didn’t pay attention to the script, staring back with nothing but coldness. Frigid like the winter Tsumugi loved so much, maybe if he was just as freezing and indifferent, Tsumugi would still love him.

“You’re my best friend—” Tsumugi started but Tasuku turned on his heel and left without warning, slamming the door behind him as he ran. Ran to wherever was far away from his best friend. He wanted it to be true so bad, but not when he could be abandoned again without mercy.

Tasuku didn’t want to leave, but he had to or else he’d want to stay forever with Tsumugi. If Tsumugi left this time, he didn’t know how he’d move on this time.

MAYBE IT’S CHERRY BLOSSOMS AND THIS WINTER WILL BE OVER

I MISS YOU, I MISS YOU

WAIT A LITTLE BIT, JUST A FEW MORE NIGHTS

I’LL BE THERE TO SEE YOU, I’LL GO THERE TO MEET YOU

I’LL COME FOR YOU

Tsumugi was gone, again.

When Tasuku woke up from a nightmare of their last fight again to an empty dorm, his heart nearly stopped as he scrambled out of bed, flipping Tsumugi’s duvet over to find nothing but wrinked sheets. He couldn’t have left, how dare he? Leave when he had Winter Troupe under his name, after years of not seeing each other, how could he—Tasuku looked towards the window and stopped, staring outside as the moonlight illuminated the cold night sky in Veludo Way.

It was the first snow of winter.

Tasuku knew what he had to do, old habits die hard, after all. Tasuku didn’t bother putting a coat on, just rushing outside leaving the door open as he ran to the courtyard, snow crunching underneath his feet as he paused at the edge. Tsumugi was standing still in his pajamas, that blue sweatshirt he kept with “Snowdrop” on it covering his shaking hands as his head was tilted back, staring at the snow with wonder and amazement. It was the happiest Tsumugi looked, and Tasuku’s heart simmered down a little bit as he carefully approached closer, like he was afraid of scaring him away forever.

Tsumugi snapped out of his trance when Tasuku covered his shoulders with a blanket, whipping his face towards the taller male with a surprised look, not realizing how close they were. Tasuku couldn’t move his hands from Tsumugi’s shoulders, he couldn’t look away from Tsumugi’s teary eyes as Tsumugi let out a forced laugh, the air around him freezing as it disappeared like smoke.

“Go inside, you’ll get sick before the play.” Tasuku ordered, but made no effort to pull him in. Tsumugi blinked, nodding as he focused on Tasuku’s eyes, he had so many questions he only imagined asking. Tsumugi couldn’t read a thing about Tasuku, it was like he was a stranger he would never see again. But under this snow, under the same sky, they were together again, and it was more than whatever Tsumugi deserved.

“Dance with me.” Tsumugi breathed out, guiding Tasuku’s hands to his waist as he took his hand, not knowing why he needed this so bad. Tasuku was about to object before Tsumugi placed his head on his shoulder, holding in the tears as he begged, “Please, just one last time”. Tasuku stiffly nodded, gripping his hand like he didn’t want to ever let go. It was silent, but the two swayed like they were back in their apartment kitchen, a year into university with nothing to worry about except being on stage together.

“Why’d you go outside?” Tasuku asked, gently spinning Tsumugi like he was made of glass. When he spun back into his arms, Tsumugi sadly smiled, like this was the warmest he’d ever feel again.

“I needed to know if you’d come for me.” Tsumugi whispered, afraid of breaking the moment as he gazed up at the man he was in love with. He had his answer, Tasuku would still follow him even if it meant freezing from the snow at midnight. Tsumugi knew it was selfish, but...

He wanted to be selfish, just one more time. When Tsumugi stood on his toes to inch forward, nervously trembling from what he was risking right now, Tasuku didn’t react. He didn’t move, just took Tsumugi in like he wasn’t going to get this ever again. Like, this was the final goodbye they were supposed to promise each other that next morning.

It was long overdue. Tasuku saw how Tsumugi was about to run away again, lean back and leave. Not again, not if he couldn’t help it. Tasuku closed the distance, as if making up for all the time they lost as they kissed under the first snow, knowing there was so much to be said but not having the heart to bring back the past. It was too much, too much that Tsumugi couldn’t help but pull him back when Tasuku was about to move. He was so selfish, he just wanted Tasuku in this moment even if it meant never communicating with him again, he was in love with a man he had hurt over and over again.

“Promise me,” Tasuku mumbled before their lips met again, staring into Tsumugi’s eyes with no familiarity whatsoever. It was like they were two completely different people who had no connection to each other, two strangers that would’ve walked by each other without a second glance. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow morning.”

This time, Tsumugi nodded without crossing his fingers, his hands wrapped around Tasuku’s neck as he pulled him back down, knowing they had tomorrow to talk. To heal, to mend, to fix whatever was damaged. If Tasuku would let him back, if he let Tsumugi prove he was different now, better now, worthy of any relationship Tasuku wanted.

They were different people now, but it was the first snow of a winter they finally had together after a long, long time.

#tsukioka tsumugi #tsumugi tsukioka #takoto tasuku #tasuku takoto #tsumugi x tasuku #tasutsumu #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3!#act! addict! actors!#a3! actor training game #a3! one shots #act! addict! actors! one shots #mankai a3!#mankai company #a3! tsumugi #a3 tsumugi #a3! tasuku #a3 tasuku

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srsly-messed-up-fruitloop · 5 years ago

Text

Shielded Away (pt 1)

““Jeez Fenton, what the heck are you doing?”

Danny stopped. “Just practicing for mime school, you know...just in case the whole astronaut thing doesn’t work out.”

Wes squinted. “Wait a minute...the news said they placed your parents’ newest ghost shield around all of Amity…”

Danny groaned, for what felt like the hundredth time today. “Are you kidding me?” He prodded at the shield, only to get stung again.

At that, Wes began to chuckle, which turned into an actual laugh, eventually becoming full-blown cackling.

Danny scowled. Not calming down in the slightest, Wes continued to cackle as he walked off into the distance.”

Or, my take on this prompt posted by @danphanwritingprompts

Word Count: 5,183

Read on AO3 or under the cut

Danny glanced at himself in the mirror in the washroom. The dark circles under his eyes seemed to have doubled in size since he last saw them. Not that he cared. He was too exhausted to care. It wasn’t even lunchtime yet, but he’s already fought seven ghosts today. A thin cool mist expelled from his lips. And here comes the eighth.

Outside in the halls, a familiar voice boomed, “BEWARE, I AM THE BOX GHOST!” Danny watched himself as his eyes became a vibrant green on instinct. Transforming once again, he flew out the washroom, sighting the box-loving spirit throwing cardboard boxes at students. He zoomed towards him, grabbing his ankle, forced them both intangible, and dragged him down to the school’s basement.

“Hey! Can’t you see I was in the middle of something?” the Box Ghost whined.

“Yeah? Attempting to traumatize people once again with boxes? How many times do I gotta tell you it’s really not scary?”

“IS TOO!” The Box Ghost angrily hurled a dusty box at Danny, who then fired an ectoblast at it to defend himself.

“You know, I could think of a hundr—oof!” Somehow Danny didn’t notice every single storage box in the basement hovering right above his head, before it was too late. Man, he really needs sleep.

He faintly heard the ghost laughing above him. Of all the places in the school, he had to lead the Box Ghost here. He’s gotta remember to use the roof next time. But this time, he knows he’d hidden a Fenton thermos somewhere around here…

In an instant, he turned intangible and phased through all the boxes he was buried under. His eyes searched wildly around the basement. Where was it?

“LOOKING FOR THIS?” Danny’s head shot up, finally seeing the thermos. Well, crap. “LET’S SEE HOW YOU LIKE BEING STUCK IN THE CONFINES OF A CYLINDRICAL CONTAINER!” Hearing the beep of the thermos activating, Danny gasped as he was slowly sucked into it. Since when did the Box Ghost learn how to use it??

“HA HAH! HOW DOES IT FEEL NOW?” the ghost yelled into the container, painfully vibrating Danny’s condensed molecules. “Now if you will excuse me, I WILL HAVE MY CORRUGATED CARDBOARD VENGEANCE!” Next thing Danny knew, he felt a harsh CLUNK to his everything as the thermos fell to the hard floor.

Outsmarted by the Box Ghost, he really was having a bad day. Well, hopefully, Tucker and Sam will find him. Eventually. He could just imagine Sam berating him immediately after releasing him. “You should have called us first! Of all places, why would you bring the Box Ghost to the basement?” Tucker would be laughing his ass off. Honestly, he wouldn’t blame him.

Each minute in the thermos always felt like an eternity. His form was squished to the point where all he could really do is think. And he’s come to realize how much he actually depends on his friends. He doesn’t appreciate them enough.

Except, they should be here anytime now.

Anytime.

Any. Time.

Nothing.

Wait. There were footsteps. The next instant, he was being picked up. Finally, they found him. Come on now, press the button Tucker. What was taking him so long? A fair bit of fumbling continued until fingers found the right button and he was finally released. Danny groaned and stretched, feeling an ache from being compressed for so long.

“You’re lucky I found you Fenton.”

That. Wasn’t Tucker. Or Sam. His head shot up, seeing a red-haired pain in the ass holding a stupid grin, growing wider by the second. Wes.

“Were you stalking me again?”

“Just gathering evidence. You should be grateful, who knows how long you’d be stuck in there.”

Danny scowled. His friends would’ve eventually found him. “Fine, thanks. Now if you excuse me, I have a job to finish.” He flew up, phasing through the ceiling. Invisibly weaving through the corridors of his school, he noticed two things. One, his ghost sense seemed to be picking up nothing at all. Two, the hallways were deserted. He peeked into a random classroom, empty. Same for the one beside it. He zipped through the ceiling to the second floor, stopping in front of the English classroom he left behind. Empty. Save for his bag tucked under his chair. He really should stop doing that, the number of times he’d left class forgetting his bag was too embarrassing. Picking up his bag from the floor, he walked over to the window expecting a routine gathering for a ghost alarm. Nope, the fields were empty too. Weird. Maybe they’re at the front. He was just about to check, but something about the far off view of Amity’s city buildings struck him as odd. He pulled out his phone. Dead. Right, never got a chance to charge it last night.

“Everyone’s gone.” Wes suddenly spoke from the door, almost a tinge of fear in his voice. Funny, he’s never seen Wes scared before. This should be good.

“You sure?”

“I checked everywhere, even the teacher’s lounge.”

Huh. Danny glanced out the window again. “Parking lot’s completely empty.”

“The entire school couldn’t possibly abandon us—we were only down in the basement for an hour,”

“AN HOUR?”

“Yeah, I was busy collecting evidence.”

“Okay, first off, you need a new hobby. Second, why didn’t you let me go earlier if you were there the entire time?”

“Hey, be grateful. I was contemplating not letting you out at all.”

Wes could be such a...ugh. There were bigger things at hand. Like the disappearance of his entire school.

“Give me your phone.” Wes eyed him suspiciously. He stuffed his hand in his pocket and brought out a small device, slightly bigger than the palm of his hand. Danny approached closer. “Is that a freaking Nokia?”

“Can’t trust smartphones, government uses them to steal all your information.”

Of course. Danny grabbed the cell phone. It reminded him of a calculator. “Can you even text on this thing?”

“It’s not worth it. You can call though.”

Danny searched the deep recesses of his brain for his friends’ phone numbers. He dialed a number, half guessing the last four digits.

The dial tone rang...and rang, and rang once more…

A smooth automated female voice responded, “Hello, you’ve reached the voicemail of—” then there was a moment of silence. The automated voice picked back up, “Please leave your name and message after the tone.” BEEP.

He just hung up then. Sam never bothers checking her voicemail anyways. Dang, if only he remembered Tucker’s number.

“...should we just leave? Maybe everyone got sent home?” Wes hesitantly asked.

Something still didn’t sit quite well with Danny, but the idea of using the rest of the day to catch up on some sleep was too good to resist. He tossed Wes’ brick phone back to him and muttered, “Alright, see you around, I guess.” He didn’t waste any time in turning intangible and flying through the classroom window, heading straight for home.

On his journey back, it was oddly peaceful. Usually every time he flew in broad daylight at least one person would sight him and yell anything along the lines of “Hey, look! It’s Danny Phantom!” or “Screw you ghost boy!” He was still a very controversial figure in the town, even though the news seems to be taking his side now.

And well, Danny has given up on trying to woo those who still dislike him. No matter what he does, all they see is a ghost. Apparently it isn’t clear that his only intentions are protecting the town. It sucks that his parents are part of that special group. Their narrow-minded point of view almost killed him on several occasions (well...metaphorically, he’s already kinda dead).

Which is why he transformed back into human form as soon as he landed on his front step. The lights for the Fenton Works sign were off. Odd. His parents were adamant on keeping them on 24/7, despite constant complaints from all their neighbours. He dug for his key in his backpack and unlocked the front door. Stepping inside, he slipped off his shoes and shrugged his backpack to the floor.

“Mom? Dad?”

Nothing. He strode over to the kitchen and checked the basement entrance. Locked. They must be out. Sweet, nothing to distract him from his well-deserved nap. He grabbed a cookie from a jar and made his way upstairs. As he was halfway through that cookie, he passed by Jazz’s room. He failed to notice the absence of Bearbert Einstein from her bed.

He brushed off the crumbs off his hands and opened his bedroom door. Flopping onto his bed, Danny was just about to pass out until he remembered. He groaned and blindly reached for the end of his charger on his nightstand. Ugh where was it? Reluctantly peeking one eye open, he saw lying aimlessly on the floor. Ugh. Stretching to the point where half his body was off the bed (it would’ve been much easier if he just sat up), he finally grabbed the charger and plugged in his phone. Victory. Now, he could relax. He’ll deal with whatever happened later.

BRIIIIIIIIIING BRIIIIIIIIIING BRIIIIIIIIIING

No, he swore he just closed his eyes a second ago. Just a few more minutes.

BRIIIIIIIIIING BRIIIIIIIIIING BRIIIIIIIIIING

Please.

BRIIIIIIIIIING BRIIIIIIIIIING BRIIIIIIIIIING

The vibrating stopped. Hallelujah. Now back to h—

BRIIIIIIIIIING BRIIIIIIIIIING BRIIIIIIIIIING

The obnoxious buzzing continued once more. Several rounds later, Danny slowly blinked open his groggy eyes. He had to suppress the urge to hurl his phone at the wall when he finally grabbed it. Declining the call, he was just about to return to his slumber until he noticed his screen was full of notifications. 9 missed calls from his mom, 5 from his dad, 11 from Jazz, 17 from Sam...his stomach sunk. Danny almost dropped his phone on his face when it started ringing once more, this time his dad again. He didn’t waste a moment in answering it.

“Hello?”

“Danno where are you? Did you get to evacuate with your school? Sam and Tucker say they haven’t seen you!”

“Wha—what? Evacu—”

“Hang on your mom’s here,”

“Danny sweetie, where are you? You’re not in the Casper High group.”

“Mom what did dad mean by eva—”

“And our tracker says you’re home, but you know we can never trust it since it sometimes locks onto that menace Phanto—”

“Wait a tracker?”

“Yes honey, we need to always know where you kids are, especially at times like these. Now, which evacuation group did you leave with?”

“Uhh...I’m actually home.”

The line went silent for a few moments. Danny heard his mom’s barely contained anxiety as she spoke her next words. “That’s...how did you...that’s alright sweetie. Can yo—was anyone else left behind?”

“Yeah, uhm, Wes Weston?”

“Okay...okay. Can you find him...and leave the town right away?”

“Mom, what’s going on?”

“Danny, please.”

“...okay.”

“Call us once you’re out, okay?”

“Okay mom.”

“Love you sweetie.”

“Yea you too.” He hung up then, his earlier grogginess completely forgotten now. Right, okay, he just has to find Wes no—

BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING

A LOUD shrill noise accompanied the incessant buzzing on his phone. Danny’s stomach dropped even further.

“[11:00 AM] EMERGENCY ALERT: Due to the increasingly harmful and destructive occupation of extra-dimensional beings in the town of Amity Park, the state of Illinois in conjunction with the GiW has made the final decision to evacuate all residents. Please follow your nearest evacuation group and proceed to exit the town.”

It was 3:07 now. The entire town just left? While he was stuck in the thermos? And “increasingly harmful and destructive occupation of extra-dimensional beings”? Dammit he had it under control.

Just before Danny left the room, he made sure to grab his charger.

Grabbing his bag left on the floor by the front door, he nearly jumped when he saw Wes sitting on the living room couch.

“How did—”

“Chill Fenton, you left the door unlocked.”

“But wh...nevermind. Did you hear—”

“About the evacuation? Yeah let’s get outta here.”

He didn’t bother to look back to check if Wes was following. The annoying scruff of his sneakers on the sidewalk was enough to tell.

But twenty minutes later, he couldn’t help but wonder why Wes was left behind too. “So...why didn’t you leave?”

“You know nobody takes those ghost alarms seriously anymore, right? Oh wait, you do, cause you’re Ph—”

“What about the emergency alert?” Danny asked, cutting Wes off.

“What emergency alert?”

“You didn’t get it? On your phone?” Danny pulled out his phone and showed Wes the notification.

“Oh, heh, I don’t get those.”

“What do you mea—oh, right. Your dinosaur phone is too old to get them.”

“Hey, at least with my dinosaur phone, the government can’t spy on my every move. That seems like something you’d be interested in, Phantom.”

“If the government was spying on us, how did they manage to forget us when evacuating the town?”

“The government has bigger things they like to worry about.”

“Sure, like hiding Area 51 right?”

“Exactly!” Wes exclaimed enthusiastically. “Finally, someone gets me.”

“Dude, that was sarcasm.”

Wes deflated at that. “Screw you Fenton.”

“Yeah, I—” the next moment Danny slammed face-first into something that stung. Quickly backing up, he saw Wes walking, perfectly unperturbed. Hesitantly, he took his index finger and slowly pushed forward, until he was blocked again. Ghost shield, great.

Turning intangible, he disappeared into the ground and tried burrowing under the barrier, only to get blocked and stung again. Dammit, he shouldn’t have told his parents about ghosts being able to get past their old shields that way. Returning up, Danny began to feel his way around the shield, attempting to find a weak spot.

At some point, Wes stopped, noticing that Danny wasn’t tailing him anymore. “Jeez Fenton, what the heck are you doing?”

Danny stopped. “Just practicing for mime school, you know...just in case the whole astronaut thing doesn’t work out.”

Wes squinted. “Wait a minute...the news said they placed your parents’ newest ghost shield around all of Amity…”

Danny groaned, for what felt like the hundredth time today. “Are you kidding me?” He prodded at the shield, only to get stung again.

At that, Wes began to chuckle, which turned into an actual laugh, eventually becoming full-blown cackling.

Danny scowled. Not calming down in the slightest, Wes continued to cackle as he walked off into the distance.

Bastard.

After Danny could no longer see the flare of his annoying red-hair, he sighed and glanced upwards, turning around until he saw the tower at the centre of the town, blasting at full strength. His parents worked relentlessly for more than a year on that tower. After trial and error with various other ghost shields, they finally perfected the ultimate model. Danny tried his best to help too, ghost shields were becoming more vital to Team Phantom as the days passed on (mostly because it stopped people from complaining about property damage). Often that involved sneaking down to the basement while they were out purchasing supplies, testing it out, and subtly dropping recommendations during dinner time. With governmental aid on their side, they were able to expand it into a town-wide defense mechanism, resistant against all ectoplasmic entities, even halfas in their human form.

With all the good their work has done for Amity, they are no longer seen as the town’s local kooks. Jack and Maddie Fenton are now revered as the country’s leading scientists on ghosts. That tower was a stark symbol of his parents’ true dedication. Every time Danny saw that tower, he felt a swell of pride for his parents in his chest. Except for this time. Instead, he felt dread slowly trickling down into the pit of his stomach. Why must everything his parents invent come to bite him in the butt sooner or later?

Plunking down beside the shield, Danny laid down in the grass and pulled out his phone again. Ignoring the even bigger clusterfuck of notifications on his lock screen, he started up a video call with Tucker.

The instant the call picked up, Tucker shrilled into the speaker “DANNY, WHERE THE—” which was then combined with Sam exclaiming, “Is that Danny? You got him finall—WHAT THE HELL DANNY?”

Shit, he didn’t mean to make them so worried. “Hey guys, I-I’m fine,” he said, sheepishly looking away from the screen.

Sam’s expression quickly switched from angry to concerned. “We didn’t see you when the ghost alarm went off...” she trailed off.

“Yeah?”

“Figured you were taking care of it,” Tucker added. “We had no idea—”

“Tucker it’s okay.”

“Wait, really? You made it out?”

“Well...errr...”

Sam’s face took over the screen, expression serious. “Danny...are you still in Amity?”

“Uhh...yeah?”

A moment of silence passed, where Sam’s eyes widened and Tucker just walked off screen.

“B-but look, I’ll figure out a way out! I helped build the shield, I should be able to take it down, right?”

Tucker jumped back into the frame, “You were the one who helped make it indestructible, especially against yourself!”

“True but—” he was suddenly interrupted as his phone started buzzing again. “Shit, my parents are calling, what do I tell them?”

“Just say you’re on your way out?”

“But Wes already left!”

“Wes?”

“Yeah, Wes, no time to explain—what do I say??”

“Just answer it!”

“Um.”

“DANNY!” Tucker and Sam both yelled.

He jerked as he hung up and accepted his parents’ voice call. Hesitantly holding the phone to his ear, he stuttered out, “H-hello?”

His mom’s worried voice crackled through the speaker, “Sweetie, where are you now? Wesley just came out and told us you were coming…”

“Uh…” He had to think up something. NOW. “Uhh...ghost!”

“Danny wha—”

“Can’t talk now, ghost chasing me—bye!” He abruptly hung up and shut off his phone. Heart beating rapidly, he stared at the black screen. His parents are going to kill him for this.

Well, if not already for being Danny Phantom. Ha.

Lying back down on the grass (at what point did he start sitting up?), he registered just how quiet it was. No vehicles humming in the background, no people; just a soothing autumn breeze brushing against the leaves, accompanied by an occasional chirp from a bird nearby. A lone cloud floated off in the bright blue sky. With a bit of squinting, it looked like a hoagie. At that moment, his grumbling stomach decided to interrupt the serenity.

Searching his bag, he found the sandwich he packed for lunch, which was now disgustingly soggy. Ew. Did his parents leave any leftovers back in the fridge? Nah...wait. His eyes locked on a Nasty Burger in the distance. If people had to evacuate, then they must’ve left their orders behind, right? Yeah, he would be doing the world a service by not letting that greasy burger goodness go to waste. Tucker would back him up on this.

Five minutes later, he phased out of the fast food joint with a bag of untouched, barely warm Nasty burgers in one hand and a Nasty soda in the other.

Danny was going back home to figure out a way to get past the shield. Not at all because of his impending food coma. So what if he decided to take a quick power nap to regain his focus? He’d get nothing done anyways if he was too tired to think.

And so what if that quick nap turned into him knocking out for 13 hours?

Startling awake in his bed, he checked the clock. 8:00 AM. Shit! He’s late for school. Stumbling out his bed, he immediately tripped over his backpack, falling to the floor in a harsh thud.

“Ow.”

Rubbing his shoulder, everything came flooding back in his now clear mind. Fuck, how could he let the Box Ghost trap him in his own thermos?

Fuck, he has to get up. He has to find a way to get past that shield. Right now. His parents, his friends...they’re all waiting. Who knows what could be happening to them, they could be in danger, they’d need him. He has to before...before…

Before what?

Danny didn’t even realize he was doing his morning routine on autopilot until he was in the kitchen, halfway through a slice of toast. “Ergh!” he exclaimed as he spat out the almost cardboard-like excuse for breakfast onto his plate.

Why would they be in danger?

Glancing outside, he only saw a flock of living birds in the distance. Where did all the ghosts go?

Maybe because there’s no longer anyone to haunt. And as long as the shield remains, there’s no chance of even a blob ghost escaping.

Wait, there’s still Vlad in Wisconsin! No, he wouldn’t dare make a move while the Guys in White were watching. That’s one thing he knew for certain about the fruitloop.

So...what now? Danny leaned back in the kitchen chair as the realization slowly dawned on him. Everyone’s safe. A wave of relief came over him, washing away a suffocating feeling he didn’t even realize was always there. For the first time in months, he could breathe.

The next thing Danny does is turn his pathetic slices of toast into a triple decker PB & J sandwich. Another first in months.

Of course he had to be finding a way to get past the shield. His parents must be so worried. Jazz...he still hasn’t called her back. Staring at the black screen of his phone, he couldn’t bring himself to turn it on again. Talking to her would only worry her even more, right? Ancients forbid, if his parents called again...what could he even say this time?

Sam and Tucker could fill her in. They probably already did. He slid the inactive phone back in his pocket and got up to drop his empty plate in the sink.

Hours later, Danny was sticking his tongue out in concentration, trying to get past the Level 4 boss in Doomed. He honestly started up the old desktop in the basement fully intending to review his parents’ notes on the shield. After nearly nodding off on the eighth page, he decided that he deserved a little break.

Yet, that break was still going strong at 5:30am the next day. He was finally on the last level. So close...his bloodshot eyes locked on the final key, just within arm’s reach. Almost...there…

Except, a shot came out of nowhere, striking his player right in his chest, killing him instantly. And because he was on his last life, Danny stared in disbelief as the words “Game Over” appeared on the screen. He threw the computer mouse in frustration, unintentionally letting a bit of his ghostly strength through.

Well, crap. He needs a new mouse now.

Maybe he can stop by the store in the morning. Yawning heavily, his eyes wandered to the lab’s wall clock, widening as he read the time.

He...he should’ve been focusing on the shield! He groaned as he took another look at the broken mouse. There’s not even any store to stop by anymore! Screw this, he needs sleep. He’ll deal with this later.

Apparently later meant a week from then. He honestly doesn’t know how he got so distracted. He just knew the majority of the last week was spent binge-watching classic horror movies and emptying out his dad’s secret hidden stash of snacks. Jazz probably would be able to offer him some textbook explanation for this.

At some point, he’d managed to convince himself that everyone’s eventually coming back. Why else would he still have electricity? And his family left pretty much everything behind, except for a few ecto-weapons and the GAV. There’s no way this can be permanent. And why should it be? He still couldn’t find the true reason for the evacuation, news reports from earlier that week just cite the “increasingly harmful and destructive occupation of extra-dimensional beings.” Sure, Danny’s been busting his ass more recently, but it wasn’t like the town was about to be captured by Pariah Dark again. With that in mind, why should he expend any extra effort figuring out how to get past the shield? The shield he made sure worked against his very own biology?

Plus, he was happy to have a break from everything. At least that’s what he tells himself. He tries to ignore that nagging feeling in the back of his mind, telling him that he should turn his phone back on.

Anyways, his dad’s snacks have run out. Which is why he was standing right in front of the supermarket, currently in his ghost form. He’s just going to phase in, grab what he needs, and phase right back out. Easy. It’s fine, even if he sets off any security alarms, no one’s even here to stop him. Besides, a lot of that food’s probably gonna go bad anyways.

The first thing he noticed was all the flies. They seemed to be having a party in the (slightly smelly) produce section. Luckily for Danny, eating his veggies wasn’t really a top priority (sorry Sam). He grabbed a basket, floated over to the bread area, and tossed in a loaf. One of his greatest accomplishments in the last week was learning how to make a grilled cheese sandwich. That and the snacks are what have fueled him in the last week.

It seemed like the owners still left everything on after abandoning the store. The meat section was thankfully cool and fly-free. Danny eyed his options, recalling all the times Tucker shared his favourite methods of cooking each meat. Guess that knowledge is finally being put to good use. Bacon? Yes. Steak? Yup. Drumsticks? Of course. Sausages? Can’t say no to that.

Danny floated further along, grabbing various other items, including a couple boxes of frozen dinners and plenty of snacks.

He almost forgot about the mouse. Luckily, he passed by the electronics store on the way home.

After packing away the groceries, Danny thought he deserved a nap. After, he’ll probably try making the sausages for dinner. And maybe give reading those shield notes another shot since he had the mouse now.

At least, that’s what he told himself. Instead, he finally beat Doomed. Holy shit. He instinctively reached for his phone to text Tucker. They’ve been playing that game since they were nine! He…

Faced with his still powered-off phone, Danny suddenly realized that it’s been a week since he last spoke to Tucker. And Sam.

He really should talk to them. He’s been an awful friend, he’s gotta at least reassure them that he’s alright. Yet Danny couldn’t bring himself to turn his phone back on.

Eventually, an imaginary light bulb lit up above his head, and he logged into his email on the computer. However, the moment he saw his inbox cluttered with emails from his parents, he logged the fuck outta there. Nope.

While watching The Birds later that night and seeing Melanie lock herself in a phone booth to protect herself from the violent seagulls, Danny suddenly got another idea.

It was a clear night, with the moon shining in all its glory, softly illuminating the dark sky. You couldn’t even tell that the shield was there. Almost would’ve been perfect for stargazing if it weren't for the useless city lights that were still on.

A family of raccoons was crossing the road a few blocks away. And a crow cawed from above on a lamp post. Otherwise, the street in front of his house was completely deserted.

He floated up until he had a view of the entire town. During his nightly patrols, it’d never been this quiet. It felt like he was almost intruding on something, being out here now.

Using his powers to enhance his vision in the dark, he searched around for a payphone. Yes, he’s seen them before, although he can’t say he’d ever used one. It's gotta be somewhere.

He passed by an electronics store with a TV playing the news in the display. He immediately halted and did a double-take. His face was splayed across the screen, with the headline underneath, “RESIDENT GHOST HUNTERS’ SON MISSING AFTER EVACUATION”.

Before he could fully process that, he was knocked to the ground. Panicking, he struggled to get back up, but was pinned under something. Hold on, this seems famili—

“What have you done with our son, ghost?” Maddie Fenton demanded, pure hostility lacing her words.

Danny stared wide-eyed at his mother through the net, standing over him and holding an ecto-gun to his forehead.

“I…uh...”

“Speak now. Otherwise, you’ll find out just how quickly a blast from this will obliterate your vile form,” she threatened, pressing the gun right to his head now.

“N-nothing I s-swear! He l-left, with everyone else,” Danny sputtered.

“Lies. You attacked him right before he was going to leave.”

Crap. In retrospect that wasn’t really a good choice for an excuse. “That wasn’t me!” he exclaimed.

In that moment Danny realized his father was also there, standing a few feet behind Maddie. “Scanner’s telling me that you’re the only ecto-entity in Amity Park. So, ‘fess up ghost boy,” Jack said, glaring at his son.

Danny looked between them. His heart dropped when he registered how stressed they both looked. His dad’s face was patchy in places, obviously left unshaven for days. The bags under his eyes only accentuated how bloodshot they were. Danny couldn’t see much of his mom due to her goggles, but she was visibly trembling. This was all because of him. That same nagging feeling he’d ignored for far too long was now threatening to boil over and strangle him. Choosing his next words carefully, he choked out, “Alright yeah, but he left. I swear.”

“No…” Maddie whispered.

“Maddie, maybe the tracker’s malfunctioning again,” Jack suggested.

She looked back at her husband for a few moments. Then, she lowered the gun. Danny didn’t even realize he was holding his breath.

“But...we’ve searched all the groups, and none of the nearby towns are reporting him. Where else can he be?” she pleaded.

“We just have to keep looking Mads,” Jack answered dejectedly.

As soon as his parents started up the GAV and turned at the block, Danny made an instantaneous decision. He transformed to human form, broke through his parents’ net, and ran after them, forgoing all consequences. The guilt was too much to bear. He ran as fast as his “barely passing P.E.” legs could take him. He passed several blocks, adrenaline fueling him to keep going. When he slammed into the shield once again, he looked up to see the GAV stopped far in the distance, with Maddie outside, sobbing into Jack’s shoulder while he held her. They were too far for his screams to reach.

#danny phantom #Danny Phantom Fanfiction #i did it #the longest fic i've written #so far #i’ve finally graduated from writing ficlets #:')#ao3 #oneshot #grooveactuallywrites

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acdeaky · 5 years ago

Text

bad liar | III

warning: angst, little bit of fluff, strong language

note: there is a part at the beginning about star wars, but even if you’ve never seen it, please don’t skip it bc it’s important to the story! thanks and enjoy :))

word count: 1.4k

black lives matter

“so you’re telling me that you’ve never watched star wars?”

“no, i haven’t,” ben laughed, watching as you face turned from excitement to completely shock. “why’s it such a big deal?”

“why’s it such a big deal? star wars has given us, like, four cultural resets in the past 50 years, and is just an amazing film series.” you argued as you got up off of the sofa, heading towards ben’s kitchen to grab a bag of popcorn.

“four cultural resets? really? that many?” he teased, turning his body to the side to watch you over the back of the sofa.

“yes, ben, that many. there’s the original trilogy, the prequel trilogy, the sequel trilogy and the mandalorian.”

“the mandalorian?”

“the mandalorian,” you sighed, sitting back down next to ben while grabbing the remote. he took the bowl of popcorn from off your lap and into his as you found disney plus. “you know, the one with pedro pascal? that series?”

“oh, yeh,” came his muffled reply. “i think i remember hearing about it.”

“well, you won’t be able to watch it until after return of the jedi.” was all you said as you found the phantom menace and pressed play.

“and which trilogy is that in?”

“the original.”

“so i won’t have to wait too long to watch it.” only if he knew.

“yeh, you do,” you giggle, turning to face him completely as his face dropped. “it’s the original trilogy, but we’re watching them in chronological order of the story.”

“so how many films is there between the beginning and the mandalorian?”

“about eight.”

“eight?” ben asked in disbelief, watching your face for any tell-tale signs of you lying.

“yeh, eight. there’s the prequel and the original triology and then there’s solo and rogue one.”

“i cannot believe i agreed to this.” he huffed, completely leaning back into the cushions of the sofa.

“but you did, so let’s go.” just as you said that, the iconic orchestral piece of the star wars theme played through the speakers. you leaned back and moved slightly closer to ben, moving so you were comfortable before grabbing a handful of popcorn.

without you knowing, ben watched you as the credits rolled, seeing your eyes flick over the written synopsis of the movie like you haven’t seen it hundreds of times. he smiled subconsciously, his brain choosing that now would be the best time for his heart to thud against his chest and send a light blush up his neck and cheeks.

seeing you here and like this, in your element, was something ben loved. god, he would do anything, watch anything, listen to anything, if it meant that he would be with you and it would make you happy.

without realising, ben was falling in love with you, but he never knew that he would have a chance.

***

it wasn’t the pounding on the door that scared you, nor was it the coolness of the floor beneath you, but the reminder of last night. the tears, the sobs, more like. ben showing up unannounced. the emotion, the overwhelming nature of the situation. the half eaten tub of ice cream. the TV.

the TV.

surely enough, it was still playing in the near distance, but that wasn’t the biggest thought inside your mind as a second knock brought you back to the wooden floor beneath you.

you used the wall to help you up, looking at the mirror hanging on the wall to check how awful you looked; at least nothing was fresh, except for the pain.

just as the person on the other side rised their knuckle to rap against the door again, you clicked the lock, opening the door to be greeted by a hand in your face.

“oh, gosh, i’m sorry, miss. here’s your parcel.” right. the parcel you ordered yesterday as a ‘feeling sorry for yourself’ purchase. as you took the box out of the person’s hands and signed the tablet, shutting the door before they had even turned away, you felt shitter than you did when you woke up.

just the thought of what was in the box brought back last night and everything about it. but as you threw it onto your sofa with little care, it reminded you of one of the good nights. a good night with ben. the day you invited yourself over to his and forced him to watch every single star wars film, which was also the day you realised you were falling in love with him.

all that was in the box was a stupid figurine of ben’s favourite character (one you had (sub)consciously choosen to buy) and you couldn’t find it in yourself to open it. you couldn’t find it in yourself to open the box and be reminded of a time when things weren’t complicated. a time when your feelings were submerged by other things.

a time when you were certain with yourself and your feelings that you let your heart control everything.

but none of that mattered now. you ignored the glares you felt from the box, leaving it be where it landed. you switched off the TV, threw away the ice cream (tub and all) and decided the best thing to do to shower.

yes; a nice, warm shower would wash away the bad night. well, it would wash away the tears, the sweat and, hopefully, the backache from sleeping on the floor all night.

the first thing you noticed (after your shower) was your phone was dead. what you dreaded the most was the many missed calls and texts from ben, or anyone, which you would inevitably have to reply to. you found there was a few: a couple of texts saying sorry, a few voicemails which you debated listening to; you weren’t sure if you could handle another heartbreak.

so you didn’t. you left them unopened, as you did the texts, and got dressed, throwing on whatever felt the most comfy for another day of wallowing in self-pity.

you debated calling joe, or gwil, just to have someone to talk to about all this. but you decided against it, not wanting to pull other people into the breaking of two hearts. it didn’t matter to then. well, not personally anyway, but both joe and gwil would have been there for you, and for ben, if you had let them.

but you didn’t, and that’s how it stayed. you opened a new tub of ice cream (only after eating something that would be classed as a meal) and sat in the same position as the night before, the same crappy TV playing in front of you.

you were about three episodes in when the phone began to ring. you didn’t even bother looking at the caller-ID, knowing that you would just be ignoring them anyway. the phone completed it’s ring before the automated voicemail began to speak. when it beeped, you paused the TV.

“hi, Y/N, it’s me, ben. i’m guessing you didn’t answering because you saw it was me... or your phone’s dead... or you just aren’t answering any calls - which is understandable. i just wanted to apologise for last night; me coming over was stupid and greedy and selfish, but i had to see you. i had to see if you were hurting as much as i was when you ended this ‘relationship’.

“i’m sorry i put you under so much pressure, but i hoped that if you felt that way, that you’d talk to me... obviously i was wrong. and i want to apologise for everything: the relationship, the press, the unwanted feelings; i felt them, too. hell, i’ve felt a lot of things for you over the past few months, but i’ve been too afraid to say anything. and yet, here i am, pouring my heart out on voicemail.

“god, you’re probably not even gonna listen to this. your phone’s probably in your room on silent while you watch crappy TV and eat your weight in ice cream. which is fine, i’d do the same if i was with you. but i’m not with you, and that’s the hardest part. if, by some chance you’re hearing this, please pick up. i want to make things right, i want to tell you things i’ve been wanting to say for months, i want to-”

“hello? ben?” you picked up to silence. as soon as you answered, ben stood still, thinking this wasn’t going to happen, that you wouldn’t have answered.

but you did.

“ben? you okay?”

“i-”

<- previous | next ->

TAGLIST: @shes-over-bored @i-barely-go-on-online @sohoneyspreadyourwings @brian-maybe-not @deakysbabybooty @1001-yellow-daffodils @retromusicsalad @hardcoredisneynerd @painkiller80 @leatherjacketmazzello @scarecrowmax @mebeatlized @seesiderendezvous @alright-mrfahrenheit @someone-get-a-medic @miamideacon @chlobo6 @teenagepeterpan @spacedustmazzello @deakysgurl @forever-rogue @xcdelilahxc @keepsdrawing @igotsuckedintothevoid @kill4hqueen @supersonicfreddie @laedymoon @inthedayswhenlandswerefew @warriorteam1924 @painandpleasure86 @boomerangbassist @mamaskillerqueen @lookuptotheskiesandsee @seouloffebruary @lost-aesthetic-of-past @madeinheavxn @xbarrjallenx

#ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fic #ben jones #bohemian rhapsody #bad liar series #x reader #acdeaky

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pastelwitchling · 5 years ago

Text

TW: this is sad.

***

The ringing began quietly, then as the days passed, the calls unanswered, they echoed throughout the cabin walls alongside Buffy’s gruff responses, as if urging the person on the other end to pick up. Alex kept the phone on speaker. He knew there would be no response.

“This is Guerin,” the automated voice finally came, and Alex stopped in the midst of packing, his hands on his suitcase, his shoulders slumped with a sigh. “Don’t know how you got this number, but whatever it is, make it quick.”

The beep sounded like an execution sentence. Buffy barked once, twice as Alex made his way over to the phone. He picked it up. Enough was enough.

“Hey, Guerin,” he said, holding the phone with one hand as he looked around for his navy jacket. It was cold in New York around this time of year, wasn’t it? “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for the past few weeks, and I really didn’t want to have to do this over the phone, but… I guess it is what it is.”

He took a deep breath, shutting another suitcase. “I’m leaving Roswell. I got a job offer in New York and I took it. There’s no home for me here anymore,” he said as he picked a loose thread on his couch. He cleared his throat. “My plane leaves tonight, and I’m…” he checked the time on his phone, “just about to leave.” He tapped his thigh. He sat down. He looked around the walls that had shielded him these past two years, the shelter that had been left for him when he thought he wouldn’t get one.

He thought of Michael, his home, wondering if the cowboy was listening at all, if he would bother listening to the voicemail once he saw who it was from. Alex thought of the look on Michael’s face when he’d found out about the relationship with Maria, how he had looked at Alex as if he couldn’t see him. Just another Manes Man, meant to haunt his dreams and nothing more.

Alex knew his name would never leave him, that he would never forget that look in the eyes of the man he loved. He just hoped that, after this big change, the punishment would finally stop.

Maybe it was because of that hope, because of the fact that he was leaving and he was desperate, maybe because part of him knew Michael would not listen to what he had to say that he threw caution and permission to the wind and blurted, “I want to see you.”

He was surprised at the tremble in his voice, how his fingers shook against his jeans. Even Buffy seemed to notice something breaking as she came over, her big brown eyes looking up at Alex as if asking, Are you okay?

Alex rested a hand on her head, her soft, warm fur easing some of the tension in his stomach.

“Guerin,” he said, and cleared his throat again. “Michael. I’ve never asked you for anything. I’m asking for this now. Please. Please, just… come over. Come over now, let me see you just once, and… and you’ll never have to see me again.”

He took in a shuddering breath, and confessed, “All I can think about is the way you looked at me the last time we saw each other. Like… like you hated me. I’m begging you, don’t let me leave with that. Please just come over.”

He exhaled slowly, turning the phone away, then, “I absolutely have to leave in two hours. I’ll wait until the last possible second. Okay? I’m waiting.”

He hung up, and only realized later that he had been clutching the phone so tightly his knuckles had turned white. Buffy licked his hand, and Alex forced himself to let go.

With a slight whimper, her eyes on Alex, Buffy seemed to ask, What do you think?

Alex nodded, if only to himself. “He’ll come. He’ll be here.”

An hour passed, which was already more than Alex had expected, another half hour, and his heart plummeted into his stomach as he sat in the cold darkness, waiting. Ten minutes until he had to leave, and Alex realized he had better start loading his two suitcases into his car. All the furniture was draped with white sheets, everything else packed away in boxes that Kyle was going to have sent over to Alex’s new apartment once he got settled.

“Hang on, girl,” he told Buffy before she jumped into the passenger seat, his voice hollow. “Not yet. We have another minute.”

Buffy seemed to lower her head, her sad eyes on him, yet she said nothing.

Alex tapped his thumb on the hood of the car, and swallowed. “We have another minute.”

The seconds ticked by, and Alex found himself wishing they’d freeze. Michael was just running a little late. The minute passed, and no sign of the cowboy.

As a last desperate attempt, Alex pulled his phone out, his hands shaking, his heart doing a drumroll in his chest. He dialed Michael’s number. The phone rang. Nothing.

Alex shook his head, his brows furrowed, his eyes burning. “H… He’s really not coming?”

Buffy growled as if desperate to kill someone.

“No, no,” he muttered. “M – Maybe, maybe he’s on his way right now. We’ll wait another minute.”

But that minute passed, too, and so did the one after, and the one after that. It was another ten minutes before Buffy barked urgently. It was time to go.

Alex looked around, still half-expecting to see gold curls or an old truck or even a panting Michael making his way to him. But there was no one. It reminded him of something, a miserable few hours he’d spent waiting outside the airstream, expecting the man he loved to come, and never getting it.

Alex took his seat, feeling heavier than ever before, his heart like an anchor, unwilling to rise or beat again. “I really thought he’d come,” he muttered, and feeling horrifyingly numb, he turned the key, and made his way away from the cabin. Still, he drove slowly, a small, foolish part of him hoping the cowboy would stop him. He never did.

Nothing was different. The sky had some dark clouds, the leaves rustled in the wind, the desert lay silent, there was the faint sound of music and chatter coming from a few of the bars and restaurants in town. Alex, despite himself, couldn’t help but wonder what Michael was doing now. He wondered if he’d ever even read the voicemail. He stopped at a red light, pulled out his phone, and – taking a deep breath – he tried to call again.

“This is Guerin,” the automated voice responded, and Alex was left staring at the green light, his phone against his ear.

Despite it all, Alex could not help the small, sad upward quirk of his lips. “I love you,” he breathed, and maybe it wasn’t the thing to say now, and maybe Michael would hate him more for it, and maybe it was part of the hysterical laughter bubbling in his throat, but he wanted to say it. He wanted the last thing he ever told Michael to be the truth.

“I love you I love you I love you,” he said, his voice barely over a whisper, his eyes burning. Oddly enough, he didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or cry. “And I want you to know that even if we spend a hundred years apart, I’ll still love you with every cell in my body. And you can be disgusted that a Manes loves you, but a Manes loves you, and I’ll never be sorry for that because you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Guerin.”

He huffed a miserable laugh as a tear fell, said, “I really wanted to see you,” and hung up.

***

This is just where my head goes sometimes. I hope you’re all having an awesome morning.

Also, quick reminder that I am not taking prompt requests at this time, so please don’t send them in. As I’ve said before, it’s not that you guys ever rush me, you’re all wonderful, but my own anxiety is what puts pressure on me to complete all the prompts in my inbox, and I’d rather not have that now.

In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the small insight into my dark little mind ♥

To anyone that’s made it to this point in the end notes, here’s the synopsis for my next multi-chaptered fic after the Viking au:

This fic will be Enes (Max x Alex), set in the 1800s in London, and rated E. Alex is a servant in Max’s household where Max is not currently present. He and Max’s brother, Michael, have had a secret relationship, mostly sexual, that has stayed hidden for their fear of being exposed and arrested. Michael, however, treats Alex poorly in public, as if he is beneath him, and Alex, loving him too much to ever object, takes his emotional abuse silently.

Max, having returned from a year-long trip in America, comes back after their mother’s death to take control of the household. He and Alex meet and fall desperately in love, but how could they be together when Max’s only and dearest brother loves Alex so deeply?

TW: homophobia, attempted rape, slurs, and violence.

I know the adult themes, as there is also graphic sex, will not agree with everyone, but I don’t usually write these kinds of non-fantasy fictional romances, and I wanted to try my hand. Not to mention, this idea just won’t leave me alone. I know next to no one will be excited about this idea, but I really am, and I can’t wait to start writing after the Viking au is finished and posted.

If you’ve made it to the end, thank you. I love you all 3000 ❤

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #malex one shot #malex fanfic #malex fic #malex fanfiction #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #malex angst #malex fluff #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis

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ontowanderlust · 6 years ago

Text

How to say I love you? (1)

A/N: Okay, I need to come clean, this one has been sitting in my google docs for some months now. I finished this just as the semester has ended and I had submitted it to two different betas just to double check. Special thanks to: @stuckwithcats and @grimpower-s you guys are awesome and this is the fruits of your putting up with me. (I think.) One of the reasons why I haven’t posted this til now was I couldn’t find a title that would suit this so let’s just leave it like that. Let me know if you guys have better ideas. The other reason was just I’m too lazy to post this. My betas knew that I had a name written here but I had to revert to second person since... this is tumblr. (Though, the last name is predetermined already, don’t fight me on this.) Let me know if this sucks or if you guys like it.

Also some reminders:

Five is eighteen in this fic

The apocalypse had already happened

(Spoiler) They are sent back in time

And there are some of the 43 involved in this fic (not necessarily in this particular post but as the story goes along... maybe. If I find the will to start prompt number 3.)

Alternatively: 7 times he confessed and the 1 time she accepted his confession / 8 ways to say I Love You

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Prompt: This prompt is brought to you by R. McKinley (you write beautifully, may I just say) and @chickenshit‘s photo edit. I did say that I’m gonna write something about this, right?

=Masterlist=

Number Five rarely forgets.

Scratch that, he never forgets.

He took pride in being dubbed as the genius among his siblings- the one who is rather well adept beyond his years (technically speaking, he is really an old man in an eighteen year old’s body. But well details, details.)

Being the genius means that his oversized brain has the capacity to retain everything he had learned, adapted during his years of exile in an apocalyptic reality.

Thus, the claim he never forgets.

Him being drunk, (no, he never gets drunk- though his brothers can attest to the false negativity of this statement) states otherwise.

And so, when he woke up with a splitting headache, and a junkie brother sitting on the chair adjacent to his bed with a shit eating grin, he knew he must’ve done something fucked up otherwise, his brother wouldn’t bother waiting for him to wake up- or more importantly, stay sober like now.

“Good morning, dearest brother of mine!” Klaus sing-songed while he simply groaned, burying his head deeper in his pillow in an attempt to drown this weirdo’s annoying voice. “Don’t you just love the sweet, sweet hangover the morning after? Welcome to adulthood, kiddo!”

“Fuck off, asshole.” He groaned as he reached for a spare pillow, blindly spatial jumping the object to Klaus’ direction while the former simply laughed as he dodged the offending item. “Can’t you just go one day without being… I dunno, being you?”

Klaus let out an overly dramatic gasp as he placed his right hand over his chest, feigning offense even if his brother couldn’t see him. His eyes were twinkling in delight seeing his over-dignified brother being so…. undignified. “And here I thought, you were warming up to me.”

“Get out.”

The seance frowned, rolling his eyes at this boy’s grumpiness, getting up as to leave his brother be. He could’ve sworn that this grumpy old man had been warming up to them- or at least softening especially with Y/- wait a minute! Now he could recall why he bothered waiting for him to wake up!

“Fine,” He drawled out ever so dramatically. Turning around, he let his mouth curling up to a giddy grin. “By the way, have you talked to Y/N yet? Sweet, sweet dear Y/N, I’m sure she’s been up all night thinking about what you said to her last night.”

Five’s eyebrows furrowed as he lifted his head quickly, turning to face his brother- forgetting the fact that he had lost count as to how much he had drank last night, not accounting the headache that came with this hangover phase because the next thing he knew, a sharp pain had invaded his head that he had to clutch it in order to lessen the pain (if he wasn't suffering from this fucking headache, he would have berated himself for foolishly thinking that clutching his head would alleviate the pain.)

Klaus cooed, unsympathetic for his situation. “Ooh, that had got to hurt.”

“What…” Five wheezed out, digging his nails to the side of his head to divert the pain. “What are you talking about?”

“Why, I’m talking about your pain, dear little brother should I-”

“Not that dumbass,” he gritted his teeth. Man, this brother of his is testing his patience today, and it's only nine in the morning. “What do you mean by message?”

Klaus clutched his chest, jaw dropped mockingly. “You mean to tell me that you couldn’t recall what you just said to dear, dearest Y/N?” He clicked his tongue. “And here I thought you were being sincere.”

And with that parting note, he left him as bemused and- for the first time ever- confused for all its worth, grinning triumphantly as he skipped around the safety of the hallway where Five won’t be able to harm him, that is, until he tripped at the discarded pillow that wasn’t there before.

Fuck you, old man.

“Obviously you know who you wanted to speak to hence you're dialing this number but if you don't then that's your problem." Y/N's voice welcomed his senses as he dragged himself out of his bed, pulling on a decent pair of pants while his phone was cradled by his other hand as he made his way towards the kitchen.

He needs coffee, stat.

Sitting down on one of the chairs, his fingers anxiously tapped on the counter as he racked his brain for some sort of event that involves the girl that has been haunting his thoughts for the past few months now.

But try as hard as he can he couldn't think of anything he did that would make Klaus- for fuck's sake- taunt him. He hadn't gotten her in danger now, had he?

Impossible. If it comes to worst, she can take care of herself. And if anything, she’s got her brothers by her side if anything happens.

So. What is it that Klaus was-

"Anyway, if you know who you're talking to, and you know what you need to say, leave a message after the beep. But if you don't, stop wasting my time then." Her automated message ended, leaving a beep in its wake, his eyes widening as the missing memories from last night came crashing back to him.

"You know why I've been so harsh on you?" he slurred as his eyebrows furrowed as Klaus gave him a drunken smile and thumbs up, swaying into the beat. "No, what was it that you called me? 'A cultured unfeeling jerk whose mouth can fit more garbage than the dumpster?'" he scoffed, lazily grinning at nothing in particular.

"Well joke's on you, this unfeeling jerk whose mouth can fishzzy misshy garbage has feelings, did you know? I'm angry at my brother uh... Number 2 for stealing my marshmallow pack...and oh! I'm disgusted at how Klaus is chugging that big bottle thingie, see now? I have feelings! I have feelings, Morris! I have feelings... for you! Like… love! I love you like this much! I love you more than Dolores!" he flailed his arms wildly, dropping the phone in the process and making Klaus freeze mid-sway, staring at him with wide eyes.

However, in his inebriated state, he ignored his brother's weirdness and proceeded to pick up the phone and continued talking as if the intended girl had been on the other line. "Shit, shhh... Don't tell Dolores I told you that. She's... she hadn't taken our break up well. Now, did you hear me? I. Love. You!"

And with that, contentment seemed to flash through his face as he hung up feeling lighter after he had screamed his heart out, passing out the moment he had pressed end call.

Oh, if only he had her ability to manipulate time without setting any anomaly in the present timeline- anything to undo his stupidity the night before. He banged his head on the counter with hopes of his embarrassment dying down.

“Y/N, dearest!”

Shit.

Go to fucking hell, Klaus.

Strings of profanities escaped his lips as he clenched his fists, willing himself to spatial jump the hell out of the kitchen but with his hangover state, his ability faltered, leaving static blue in its wake.

“What the hell are you doing?”

He looked up, cursing himself for being caught up with the malfunction of his ability that he hadn’t been able to hear the two people he didn’t want to see.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Klaus grinned at him, maliciously. Just one punch. One punch, that’s all it takes to knock this nuisance off his socks. (And payback for socking him without permission during that mission to prevent the apocalypse) “Dearie, he’s trying to avoid you.”

She threw him a confused look, her eyebrows furrowing in the process. “Avoid me?” she repeated. Did she not receive the humiliating voicemail or is she playing along to Klaus’ merciless mockery? “What did I do this time?” she asked, setting down a bag of groceries- no doubt an excuse of his dear brother to get her to their mansion.

“Oh didn’t you know?”

Five threw his brother the worst glare he could muster, making him shrink back, muttering a lousy excuse to the girl before scurrying to leave the room.

One would think the seance had grown a backbone since his discovery of his ability, or the way he kept taunting Five that morning. But one glare from him had Number Four running with his tail in between his legs. (Would it be weird for him to feel satisfied at the fact that he could control his siblings much effectively than Luther? And to think that was just a glare.)

Y/N frowned and yet, when she turned to look at the other Hargreeves- who’s acting all weirder than usual- she saw him running his palm across his face with a tired expression.

Silence engulfed them as she went to pull out the objects from the bag, setting them down to the counter.

They may have often clashed throughout the short time they had known each other- sometimes turning their heated debate into a contest of snarky remarks and harsh words, but the silence they now shared seemed all so heavy and suffocating all at once.

“Should I leave?” she spoke suddenly, not daring to steal a glance. “Whatever it is that I did-”

“It’s fine,” he cut her off, resigned to the fact that he had to come clean to her- one way or the other. “You didn’t do anything. Klaus was just being a dick.”

She scoffed, allowing the heavy feeling to dissipate as she continued the task at hand. It may not be her job to place things where they are usually located but there’s something therapeutic about the repetitive actions she’s doing. “Pot says to the kettle.” she mumbled.

This is good, right? There’s no indication that she knew about his late night ramblings or that she wanted to know more about the ramblings. No need to talk about what’s not being brought up, right?

His train of thoughts were interrupted when he saw her pull out a monster sized package of marshmallows- the ones he had been bemoaning to her last night.

“You knew,” he mumbled, taking note of the way her movement falter- maybe it was unnoticeable, but in the short span he knew her, he could almost notice everything about her, especially the small movements.

“The unfeeling jerk whose mouth can fill up more garbage than the dumpster can actually feel things!” she mimicked him with a nasally high pitched voice. “I’m angry at Number 2 for stealing my marshmallows blah, blah, blah.” she giggled as she threw the package at him, him deftly catching it.

“I don’t talk like that,”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes at him. “Drunken Number Five begs to differ.” There was something about the way her tone shifted into a much somber one, making him glance back at her, trying to figure her out. “Anyway!” her tone shifted back to normal,at least for her,patting his cheek twice. “Don’t worry, your highness. I will never hold your drunken thoughts against you, this I swear.”

Without even letting him speak, she squeezed his shoulder and wordlessly left him, mind racing.

The one time he was honest about his feelings, she didn’t believe him.

#The Umbrella Academy #How to say I love you #Five Hargreeves #Five Hargreeves imagine #Five Hargreeves x Reader #Klaus Hargreeves #Number Five #Number Four #Number Five x reader #Number Five imagine #Robert Sheehan #Aidan Gallagher

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s-horne · 6 years ago

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27. Ornithogalum (reconciliation)

There was a voicemail flashing on the landline when Steve returned home. Absentmindedly, he pressed the button to play the recording as he sorted through his mail, throwing some of the envelopes down into piles on the couch as he listened to his mother rambling on about something or other before finally confirming their dinner plans. Why the woman didn’t just text him like everyone else, Steve would never know.

The only reason that Steve had a landline was for his mom to use. Though everyone else used his cell, for some reason his mother had an aversion to texting. Steve didn’t mind all that much. If anything, he liked that they had something that was special just for them. Even if Steve was never in when Sarah called him and she ended up leaving a message for him nine times out of ten.

The message finished and the automated voice announced that there was also a second one. Steve snorted before it started, expecting to hear his mom’s voice changing the time of their meeting or possibly a butt dial of Sarah singing loudly whilst doing the dishes or sorting laundry. So when he heard a voice that he hadn’t heard for months suddenly amplified in his living room, Steve startled almost comically.

“Hi.”

Though the message started simply enough, even that single word was enough to bring Steve to his knees. God, that voice. Steve reached out and grabbed the arm of the couch for support as Tony carried on speaking.

“It’s me, Tony.”

Steve rolled his eyes at that; of course Steve knew who it was. Like he could ever forget Tony, the stupid, insecure man. That very voice coloured nearly all of Steve’s dreams.

“I’m at a bar.”

Steve huffed out a laugh at that; he knew that too. So far in the phone message, Tony had only said a few words in short passages, but Steve recognised the slur to his words and the pauses between each sentence as he thought carefully about what he was going to say next. The music in the background was a bit of a giveaway, too.

“I’m in Sacramento.”

And that was something else that Steve knew. He remembered all too well the day that Tony had come to him and said that he had gotten a promotion with his work and that he would be leaving within the month.

“I miss you.”

And, well, that was something that Steve did not know. He had no idea that Tony missed him; that wasn’t a thought that he would ever let himself entertain. It hurt too much. It opened too many possibilities, too many hours put at risk where Steve was in real danger of doing very little but dreaming about Tony turning up on his doorstep and begging him to take him back.

He and Tony had been together for a few months. From the start, it had very much been more of a ‘they’d fallen into bed when drunk once and never really defined the relationship’ than a real boyfriend and boyfriend adult relationship. Steve hadn’t known that he had meant anything to Tony outside of the bedroom, though he’d wished in secret. There had been so many nights where Steve had lain awake and watched Tony asleep next to him, carefully memorizing every line on his face and every tiny flutter of his eyelids. The few dates that they’d gone on were crystal clear memories in Steve’s mind and there was even a shameful photo album saved on his phone of pictures of Tony, and Tony alone.

“I think about you every day.”

Tony’s voice brought Steve out of his thoughts and back into the room. He shuffled himself from the arm of the couch until he could drop down onto the cushions, envelopes crinkling below him as he sunk into the comfort of Tony’s voice washing over him.

“I think about you every day, every time that I walk past a book store or a bakery, a bar or a library. Everything that I see reminds me of you, no matter what it is. Did you know that I almost didn’t get on the plane?”

Steve jolted at that, his mind moving at a hundred miles an hour. Was it really true that Tony almost didn’t go? Tony had left so easily, coming to see Steve once to tell him that he was leaving and then just walking away without a pause in his step. Nothing had ever really seemed to bother Tony, and normally Steve admired that. That day, though, Steve could have done with some emotion.

Anything other than Tony walking away with no hesitation after breaking Steve’s heart into roughly four hundred pieces.

“But then I did, because I knew that you didn’t want me around anyway.”

And what was that supposed to mean?

Steve blinked and stared at the answering machine as though that held all of the answers. Since when had it been that Steve was the one who didn’t want Tony? That wasn’t right, that was not the right way around at all. It had been Tony who had walked out so easily, made the decision with no thought for their relationship and the wonderful thing that it could have become.

Tony had been gone the next week.

To Steve’s mind, California was not that far away at all and Steve had been more than prepared to suggest the long distance thing as soon as the word Sacramento left Tony’s mouth, but apparently Tony had already decided that that wasn’t what they were going to do. Nope, he had just cut and run.

“You wanted a clean break. But it didn’t work, not for me. I could never move on, I couldn’t forget.”

Neither could Steve, he thought incredulously. He wouldn’t have admitted the small wave of thrill that he got from Tony’s confession to anyone, but he felt it. It was probably sadistic of him, but the feeling was especially strong when Tony’s voice broke as he spoke. Steve got a tiny rush of something from just knowing that he did actually have some effect on the other man, an effect that he had not known he had had when they had been together.

It showed that Steve had meant something to Tony, that his love hadn’t been as entirely unrequited as Steve had cried about for so long.

“I still remember what we did,” Tony spoke again. He went quiet for a moment and the sounds of the bar behind him got louder until there was a deep sigh. “I remember the kisses, the touches. I still remember the way you taste.” Tony’s voice had dropped to a frankly obscene husky whisper and, coupled with the soft confession, his speech stopped Steve in his tracks. He was torn between crying and being ridiculously turned on, and he wished he could say that it was a new feeling. Unfortunately, when one was in love with Tony Stark, it was a battle that occurred quite a lot.

“I think about you all the time,” Tony continued and Steve slid his hands under his thighs to stop himself from reaching out for the phone. He didn’t know if he would delete the recording or press redial.

“I think about you when I go to bed, I think about the noises you would make for me and the way that your skin would flush under my touch. I remember the way you’d laugh in a morning when you woke up first, teasing me that you would have to leave me there alone and go for your run unless I could find another way to exercise. I still think about that first night we spent together, the second night, and the last night. I wish we could have more; I wish I could still be the one to swallow your moans, to soothe your cries. I want to make you laugh, want to be there when you come home.”

Steve felt tears well up in his eyes and the urge to stand up and grab the phone got even stronger. He wished that he had the strength to stop the recording from playing, but he knew that he wanted to do the stupid thing of calling Tony back to beg him to come home even more.

“Steve, I…”

It was then that Steve lost it. At the sound of hearing his name in Tony’s voice for the first time in months, he crumbled forward as though his strings had been cut.

“I love y–”

Steve jumped up at the sound of the machine’s message ending with a cruel beep and almost screamed when the options for the message were listed instead of Tony finishing his words. Tony had just been about to…

No, he can’t have been. Steve heart was beating out of his chest, had he really been saying that?

No, no, he couldn’t have been, Steve thought desperately, frantically. Tony was drunk. It was just the drink talking.