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shadesoflsk · 1 year ago

Text

RETROSPECTION & OUTCOME

pairing: leon kennedy x afab reader.

summary: The journey of healing is not an easy one. Obstacles and doubts filled the path Leon decided to take. However, the agent had planted the seed of self improvement and with your help, a strong and resilent tree will grow.

warnings: strangers to friends to lovers, mentions of reader being a nurse, age gap (reader is 25+) angst, hurt/comfort, descriptions of gore, blood and violence, no alcohol consumption but Leon attempts to, Leon's inner thoughts, self doubts, lack of self confidence (from Leon's part) mild mentions of religion trauma, smut, handjob, Leon cries during it, kind of switch Leon, needy Leon (give him a hug please) p in v, creampie, fluffy at the end (yipeee)

word count: 14k

author's note: helloooo :] This is my first try at writing a long fic, I had so much fun writing it. It all started as a character study for Leon and then it ended up as... this lmao. For the first chapters, I had vendetta Leon in mind and at the last one we finally have DI Leon! Please... if you see any mistakes no you don't. Anyway love you guys hope you like this as much as I do.

— masterlist

I. ETERNAL DAMNATION.

His cold blue eyes are a pool of misery and misfortune. The dreadful gaze of an individual who once was and continues to be subject to the violent reality of what a government can do.

He remains stoic to whatever adversity he has to face, one look at him and you would believe this man has no feelings whatsoever. He kills, he gets paid, repeat. A never-ending loop in which many would believe Leon finds pleasure. Especially since he carries himself as the Government Golden Boy aka best weapon. To use and to dispose of, Leon S. Kennedy.

Shoulder pats and praise words stir up a pot filled with anger and hatred — emotions that Leon doesn't often feel with others, just with himself.— He tries not to dwell on them, but it gets so difficult and challenging whenever he hears that his own achievements are cause for celebration. Do these assholes know how many people, infected people, he had to kill in order to bring peace? No, they don’t. Unbeknownst to them, those people could have been saved.

At least in Leon’s mind.

The suited men surround him. Privilege and smugness are qualities that Leon would often use to describe what those who hire his service are. Those congratulations and fake praises ring in Leon’s mind as he keeps thinking about the people he had to betray and kill for the ‘sake’ of his country, for his nation, and for the ego of his president.

But he takes the compliments, like a good boy. The president believes he hit the jackpot with a rightful agent who is proud of his country. God Bless America and in God we trust, he says as his hand reaches for Leon’s. The blue-eyed agent hesitates each time, out of fear of tainting his oh-so-dear boss’ white shirt. Because nobody cared enough to spare him new clothes and a wet towel to clean himself. A trophy to show the world what a powerful human weapon they had. Rough, tall, and with calloused hands, hands of a killer.

Leon S. Kennedy is proof of what the cruelty of a government can do. He is no longer a human, but the shell of a man. His name is printed in many documents which shows the gruesome acts he had to endure, in the name of the country. “Agent Leon S. Kennedy had successfully retrieved a sample of the virus.” “Condor One saved Baby Eagle.” He has received a plethora of names yet none of them really encapsulated who he was.

They have shown that they do not care about their citizens, like at all. Raccoon City was a prime example of that. He sounds like a broken record, the memory replaying in his memory every mission he gets assigned. But, for him, it was his first-hand experience with how cruel and gruesome reality could be.

Tough call, they say. We did what we could, they added. Leon knows all of those phrases by heart now. His gentle nature remains in him, even though it was covered by layers of a rough past and self-taught distrust. But even now, at his grown age, he fully believes they could have done so much more.

His mind is all over the place whenever he comes back from a mission. The usual white and never-changing walls surround everyone at the gathering that the president holds each time Leon ‘succeeds’ in a mission. His fingers seek any type of comfort, they twitch, they pinch his own clothes but nothing works.

People notice, they do. It’s obvious that the spotlight is on him yet he never embraces it. Simple nods and awkward smiles are his way to go and signature gestures. Deep inside, he knows those white-collared dicks spare him weird and pitiful glances every chance they get.

His chest burns with a desire for solidarity and altruism. He feels a lot and feels everything too deep for his own liking. His core dances between his hatred for heroism and the need to be a hero. He doesn’t believe he’s one. Throughout his life he has contemplated who he is and the type of man he has grown to be. His mind is a living hell and he’s the demon incarnated.

He wonders when it all started. Maybe he was doomed for the start, as he stood in front of his parents’ grave asking God why.

Deuteronomy 31:8; “The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” The catholic father who used to hold the mass every Sunday said one morning. Now, did God forget about him? He should have prayed harder, to escape his own damnation.

Strained screams and the reek of rotten flesh fill his dreams. Madness and chaos are the main plots in his nightmares in which he pleads to stop having. His own reality was a mirror of every agony he has to face every day in his line of work. Why is God punishing him even in his dreams?

Those cries of pain and the smell of both burnt flesh and gunpowder are a toxic combination to Leon’s messed up mind. To him, they served as an everlasting proof of his devilish nature. He realizes that the image of innumerable lifeless bodies’ guts all over the floor with his brains smashed over the ground is a common occurrence for him. He becomes desensitized albeit his soul hurting for those who lay at his feet.

Now, he knows that what he's doing is in the name of survival. Millions of people live unaware of the dangerous situations he has to fight on a daily basis, they get to sleep on a warm bed next to their loved ones. If he wants to keep that on, he ought to kill.

But he wouldn’t do it otherwise, he wasn’t built for that life.

But despite that, the usual eerie feeling washes over him whenever he has to pull the trigger. He has grown accustomed to them, on the battlefield he was a fiery pawn, following orders as they told him to.

But as soon as his character ends his performance, his facade and mask falls off his face. He’s no longer a puppet from his higher-ups, he was just him. Leon.

II. RECOGNITION.

He places Matilda — his brush to paint every ground with blood — on his nightstand. To be fair, that’s a habit he can’t just let go. After every mission, his mind is all over the place for the next few days. Every sound activates a fear deep within him that keeps him awake at night and worried during the day.

He washes his hands, a thorough ritual he follows step by step. His hands touch the water, lukewarm to bring him some kind of comfort. He rinses away every blood spot he may have engraved on his bruised skin. The warm and clear liquid reaches his fingernails, which he meticulously scrubs, washing away any leftover of someone’s brain.

He takes pride in being clean. However, it had developed into an obsession at this point. Being dirty meant killing, and killing meant despair. So, he tries to avoid his gaze on the mirror each time he arrives home. Sadly, he usually doesn’t recognize the man that is staring back at him.

Eventually, he turns off the faucet and walks towards the couch. He’s tired, both mentally and physically. He doesn’t get any younger and living as an agent surely doesn’t help his case. But at last, his home. Safe.

He turns on the TV, he’s welcomed by the News Channel which he quickly changes. Nowadays, it appears that nothing good happens in this messed up world, and he doesn’t want to bring sorrow to his home too. He searches through the vast choices of channels until something catches his eye. Casablanca.

A feeble smile forms on his face, a simple thing like that brings Leon a small percentage of happiness, which it’s a lot given his constant state of dullness.

He sometimes quotes phrases from the movies he watches. He genuinely expects someone to notice, his tired blue eyes would roam over the numerous faces of agents, hoping someone catches the meaning behind his words. He’s tired, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to chat with someone.

Nobody seemed to notice, maybe they were busy.

Curiously, he had changed the channel just at the right moment when Rick Blaine said his line. Leon’s favorite.

“I never make plans that far ahead.” Both the character and Leon say simultaneously. It brings Leon a sense of joy. Pathetically enough, his hobbies remind him that he is, in fact, still human.

He sighs, looking around his apartment. It was dull, it showed his lack of decoration and personal touch. He believes there was no point in placing ornaments or things of that sort since he doesn’t even spend most of his time there. In recollection, he has no home. At least not physically.

He’s a man of the world, people look at him and see someone who is strong and independent rather than a simple man. But his heart’s heavy, with a burden and anguish that no painkiller could ease.

He’s tempted to grab a bottle from his cabinet. Drown in the burning liquid and pass out. He doesn’t like alcohol. But he has always been weak to addictions. So, even when he was a rookie cop and his girlfriend broke up with him, he ran to the nearest bar and took all the booze he could. Maybe he should’ve noticed the red flags, and maybe gone to therapy or something like that. But… oh, right, the next day the world literally ended for him.

But, he refrains from doing so. Deep down, he knew that letting his addiction win would be a deadly solution to his problems. Acknowledging is the first step to recovery, experts say. However, he knew that he couldn’t do it alone.

Before even letting more negative thoughts come into his mind. He gets up from the couch and walks toward the bathroom, again. He stays in front of the door for a few seconds, as if scared of going back there. Eventually, he does enter.

His hand reaches for the switch and the lights are turned on. The luminescent white light revealed his face in front of the mirror. He takes one, two, and three deep breaths before fully opening his eyes.

He bites his lips, seeking a sort of relief from that action yet he bites too hard that almost draws blood. He’s trying his best, this mundane act is no longer something that he does daily. So, grant him some recognition.

His eyes travel and land on the mirror and after a while, he fully sees himself. His eyes are wide open, not because he was surprised to discover the man that was in front of him. But to compare him to the one he used to be.

Just a few years ago, his blond hair was still bright, showing signs of his thorough routine. But now, it has turned into a black mop that could no longer be compared to his past self. His stubble has grown too, he was a late bloomer, he didn’t grow a beard until he reached the age of 27 when he could finally see some signs of pores growing hair. But to see his face so… rugged and rough was definitely a slap back to reality.

He takes two steps back, his hand reaching for the hem of his shirt. Swiftly, he takes it off, revealing his chest and abdomen. He was no stranger to his own physique since he obviously showers.

However, the sight that the mirror provided was very different from seeing his point of view. His eyes were observing someone else’s perspective, if he ever had the chance to date someone they would see… that.

A chest which was filled with scars and bruises. They were like tattoos, imprinted on his skin. Those will never fade and if he grants someone the misfortune of dating him, will they be repulsed by the idea of witnessing his tainted self?

He wasn’t a hero, he was far away from calling himself that. But he is starting to think that maybe, just maybe, those marks can remind him of his arduous path. Not in a condescending way, but in a fulfilling memory.

III. FURTHERANCE.

He feels… weird. It’s been a while since he last got a haircut, and having someone holding scissors next to his neck wasn’t something he was looking for. But, there he is.

It took everything in him to call the hairdresser. He has long forgotten how to even speak to someone in a normal setting. “Agent Kennedy here, haircut, out.” He couldn’t say that!

At last, he booked an appointment. It wasn’t the most expensive place, not because Leon didn’t have the money but rather, because he wasn’t looking to be surrounded by luxuries and opulence. A cheap but nice place would do.

Once he arrived, he noticed that he didn’t match well with the place. He knew he carried an aura of mystery and unapproachability but Jesus, it was now obvious with the way some old ladies kept looking at him as if asking: Who the hell is this man?

All of his previous actions led him to where he’s sitting now.

The granny behind him keeps showering in compliments which he couldn’t quite understand. A few years ago, he may have blushed and waved a hand dismissively, but now? He doesn’t see how he could be called a handsome man.

For him, looking good and taking care of himself had stopped being a requirement a few months ago. But it wasn’t something that happened out of the blue. He gradually started noticing the changes and once he realized, his whole appearance had changed.

His eyes are piercing and never changing, an unmistakable aura of exhaustion and helpness surrounds him. Yet, once the old lady's eyes land on him, he can’t help but smile back. It was always in his nature — he lives for others.

It’s always been like this. Naturally, his gullibility and his unfounded faith have shaped and molded him differently throughout the course of years. Having to survive an apocalypse, taking care of an infant, and getting betrayed by a certain someone would sequentially take a toll on him. Nonetheless, his primal wish for altruism and hope will always remain in him. They were his roots which led to creating a strong and fortified trunk.

He’s still hoping this tree will thrive.

The lady asks him how long has it been since he last cut his hair, and he doesn’t know how to respond. Normally, he would cut it himself, since time was priceless and he couldn’t nor wanted to go to a specific place to get his hair trimmed. So he learned by himself, which wasn’t the safest option.

By the way the old woman’s hands brush on his hair, shaking and trembling due to the years, he knows that she knows. It’s obvious by the way some strands are awkwardly cut and overall most of them were misshapen. A poor attempt at maintaining his heartthrob boy hairstyle.

He remains silent — for most of the time. — He doesn’t answer any questions that were directed at him. Not because he didn’t want to, it’s just that his line of job never prepared him for small talk. In fact, chit-chat just meant that someone was trying to gather information out of him, which prompted him to just refrain from speaking

The government has fucked him up.

He acknowledges it. But it’s not easy to make a change when that something is the only thing he has known for at least 15 years of his life. The curse of despair had so unlucky landed on him and he knew no witchcraft which could prevent him from that.

His mind register most things people would overlook. Given his duty at the job, he ought to be an observer. Yeah, he is also a fighter but he relies heavily on his analyzing skills before attacking. Knowing your enemy before striking is what has saved him every damn time.

His permanently furrowed eyebrows and cold eyes are the first thing he notices in the mirror as the woman keeps cutting some of his hair. A hand unconsciously reaches for the little space between his brows.

Maybe if he stops frowning.

Maybe if he stops scowling.

Could he give a better impression of himself?

It’s lacking authenticity, he feels like he’s acting rather than being genuine. But for now, he tries forcing a gentle smile which doesn’t meet his eyes yet it’s better than almost pouting every time he breathes.

All of a sudden, the bell of the door rings announcing that someone else has arrived. Some of the old ladies who are waiting for their turn start getting up from their chairs to greet the person who had just come in.

An everyday customer, that must be. Leon thought.

He was oblivious of how much you are going to change his life.

He can’t see you, not yet. But as the observer he is, he can deduce that this said individual is genuinely loved and appreciated. A drastic contrast between the way he’s received when he returns from a mission. Fake laughs, fake thankful words.

A complete fraud.

You walk as if you own the place, but your stride doesn’t come off as haughty or arrogant. You exude an aura of familiarity, hospitality, and therefore a gentleness that it’s foreign to Leon.

You walk towards his seat, where the granny is cutting his hair. As soon as the gray-haired woman sees you, he observes how her eyes light up with delight and joyfulness he hadn’t seen before.

“Adelaide…” You stop before you even reach Leon. He admires the scene developing through the mirror. He sees you for the first time, you’re definitely a nurse or at least you work in the healthcare area given your uniform. You have your hands on your hips and a playful glare was formed on your face. If he could guess, you just caught this lady doing something she wasn’t supposed to do.

“I think I told you you should be resting.” You squint your eyes as you keep looking at Adelaide, Leon takes note of her name. You are accusing her, yet your friendly demeanor doesn’t falter.

It’s refreshing to see innocent social interactions. It's a welcome-back reality check. At least, at this moment, he could embrace the tranquility. Although it will end as soon as the hairdresser informs him that his hair is done.

“You know I can’t stand still…” Her voice comes out as a booming melody. Even though the years were obvious by the wrinkles on her face, she sounded so animated and beaming. “This job is everything I have ever known.”

Now he can agree on something. However, he is fully aware the situation is deadly different. Between cutting hair and slitting someone else’s throat, there is a vast difference. But, in his mind, he could already make up a conversation based on that information.

“I know, but…” You take a step further and place a hand on the granny’s shoulder. Leon couldn’t help but feel like an outsider now that the three of them were reflected in the mirror. “You could just take a few days off… Your shoulder will thank you for it.”

As you advise the granny your eyes dart from her eyes in the mirror to Leon’s.

For the first time.

You acknowledge his presence with a nod and a simple smile. Time seems to stop as he scans your face. You look younger, you are definitely younger than him. Not young enough for him to feel weird about it, but there was a certain glint in your eyes that told him you haven’t experienced misery and desolation in your life. Unlike him who has yet to experience happiness.

He doesn’t want to indulge so much, but his thoughts are having a blast right now. Maybe it was his lack of social interactions and meaningful relationships but he wants to know more about you.

“It’s quite unusual to see a man here. I would have thought someone like you would go to a barber.” He comes back to reality as he notices you are talking to him. Your eyes remain fixed on his as your smile continues to be displayed on your face.

Someone like… him? Yeah, that statement isn’t new to him. Especially since his demeanor is still so rugged. But hey! He’s making a change even though you don’t know.

“Barbers don’t know how to cut my hair.” He realizes his voice came out rigid and plain. He didn’t intend to, but he is used to his military speech and tone. “They… just don’t get it right…” His last sentence is definitely more hushed but not any less monotone.

“Fair enough. At least Adelaide here knows exactly how to keep your hair safe from a buzz cut.” Leon lets out an amused breath as you joke about his hair. It feels like a gentle breeze, indulging in light-hearted teasing with a stranger. And not any stranger, but you.

He has felt attraction, he’s a man after all. His line of job wasn’t the most ideal to find a partner but he can’t deny how some agents were pretty to look at. However, he couldn’t form a romantic relationship there. Between death and violence, the battleground wasn’t the place to have a partner, form a family, and live happily ever after.

“Yeah…” He sheepishly responds, he doesn’t know what else to add. You had taken the reins of the conversation as soon as you teased him. Now, he hopes something comes into his mind to keep the conversation flowing.

“I haven’t seen any other gentleman wearing this hairstyle,” Adelaide says as she resumes her work. She moves the scissors gracefully. She is — with no doubt — an expert in this area. Though the simpleness of her salon tells him otherwise. “If I may say, I think it really suits you.”

“You should have seen me in the 90s.” Those words leave his lips before he even registers them in his mind. It was an innocuous joke, nonetheless, it carried a hint of self-deprecation. He doesn’t look like his old self, he knows that. Especially after seeing himself in the mirror that night. But nobody there has to know, for them, it was a simple light-hearted joke.

The whole salon erupts in laughter, he doesn’t think his words are that funny. But hey, he will take the compliment.

However, his eyes catch a glimpse of you not laughing. At work, most people wouldn’t laugh at his own words because they weren’t needed. He knew that. But then again, none of you were in a life-or-death situation. Leon doesn’t want to overthink, but… did he come out as a pretentious dude? Or an arrogant dickhead?

Or maybe you have caught the real meaning behind those words.

You let out a breathy laugh, not too long to be considered a giggle but not short enough to be a chuckle. You don’t add anything else, your eyes just linger on his face for a few more seconds before turning on your heel.

For a moment, he’s taken aback. He feels like he’s going crazy but for a split second, he sees himself in you. Not because you shared the same past or path and there was no way you had the same traumas. But the way you had observed him, made him feel analyzed, as if you were studying the way he talked and expressed himself.

Maybe he’s indeed going crazy.

Leon watches you taking a seat on an empty chair, next to another customer who gives you a polite smile. From there, he hears you telling Adelaide that your shift at the hospital has just ended and you just wanted to check up on her.

For a while, he relaxes until Adelaide tells him that they are done. She persuades him to bleach his hair after he accidentally told her that he had blond hair in the past. But he escapes her attempts by telling her that he wants to pay.

He walks towards the register and pulls out a 20-dollar bill. It was quite cheap, especially when he had cut so much hair. At least he looks more presentable now.

You appear out of nowhere as he was paying. Your frame leans over the counter and for a second, you let the awkward silence linger in the air.

Eventually, you speak.

“You don't belong here.” You say without an ounce of malice. You're expressing a fact. Leon has never been around the salon and doesn't look the part.

He frowns slightly, he was keeping up his laid-back appearance just fine until you blurted out your thoughts.

“It's my first time here.” He states before turning around and facing you.

“That I know.” You nod.

“Then… was your comment really necessary?” Leon's words could come off as rude even though it wasn't his intention. But, it seems they don't even phase you.

“Not really.” You shrugged. Your voice was nonchalant. “But as you could already guess, I'm a nurse. And I have seen people like you come and go out of the hospital.”

He is trying to understand what your point is. Under any other circumstances, he would have told the other person off for even daring to speak about him and his lifestyle. He wasn't violent, not at all. But sometimes his limit was put to the test.

“What I'm trying to say is that…” He sees your attempt at explaining yourself. “I think It's safe to assume you're an agent or something of that sort, right?”

Leon doesn't react nor wants to. People knowing he was an agent wasn't a problem since it wasn't a secret.

After a few seconds, he lets out a sigh he didn't know he was holding and nods. Being honest could be the start of a friendship, at least that's what Leon thinks.

“Was it my frame and physique that gave it away?” If he was an artist he could easily say he was getting better at the art of improving. Just a few weeks ago, he would have never left a comment like that lingering in the air.

“Nope.” You cross your arms at the level of your chest.

And there you go breaking his fantasies. He thought his phrase was so flirty.

“There's a scar on your cheek, it looks pretty deep.” You gesture to Leon where the scar is on your own cheek. He instinctively brings his finger to where it is in his.

That's one of the few scars he remembers exactly how he got it. 2004, Spain. He experienced what betrayal was beforehand. Who he used to hold in high regard was the one who didn't hesitate to hold a knife and leave a nasty reminder of his deception.

“I got it in a fight.” He sticks with a simple phrase, not diving deeper. Nonetheless, he realized you’re a perspicacious individual, lying won’t get him anywhere.

“Fight… right.”

Both of you smile knowingly, the smirk giving away a sense of teasing between the two of you, for the first time. Even though you know nothing about how far and wild his job actually was, you had an idea that this said fight wasn’t just a normal and common one.

“So…” Leon sees how you shift your weight from one foot to another. There hasn’t been a shy bone in yourself ever since you entered the salon but now words don’t come out of your mouth as easily as before. “If you ever need a nurse, you can call me.”

As you rummage in your bag, you speak once again. “I may not be the most experienced but believe me when I said I had experience with some military and agents.”

You hand Leon a business card, your full name was there as well as your phone number and the hospital you work in. Your name falls swiftly out of Leon’s lips as he reads the content on the cardstock.

“And senior citizens.” He flashes you a dazzling smile, he doesn’t seem to realize that it’s been a while since he last smiled so freely and so.. natural. It feels like the sun hitting on his skin after a cold day. A warmth he had long forgotten he could feel.

He knew it was soon. Too soon to even imagine being your friend. But as he puts the card in his pocket, he wishes that this could be the beginning of something more.

IV. RELAPSE & RESTART.

He almost falls once he opens up at the door that leads him to his apartment. Another gruesome mission to add to his mental diary and more scars that will adorn his already hurting body.

The same never-ending story, the same story being told once again. He doesn’t know when it will end.

If it even ends.

The last months have been all about his ‘recovery’. He was a patient man, he was sure of that. However, he doesn’t understand how doing mundane things would help him. He was taking baby steps and walking on eggshells, trying not to fall back into his old addictions.

Which were slowly creeping into his mind.

A call from Hunnigan was the last thing he expected a few days ago. He was surprised not to get any task earlier but that didn’t mean he wanted to go back to fight off bioweapons and kill walking undead who were once rational people, with dreams and wishes just like him.

But as much as he wanted to hang up and leave that world behind — knowing that the government wouldn’t give two shits about him and would walk through the same door he previously did and blow his brain — he accepted the mission.

In his own story, he’s a tragic character who can’t break the cursed loop he’s trapped in. The soft sounds of the rain no longer brought comfort to his aching heart, since those constant pitty-patter reminded him of the blood dripping from the people who were killed, by no one else but him.

He often thought he was going crazy, especially now as he walked towards the kitchen and stumbled on his own feet. Seeking something to grab on while he fights off the exhaustion. This last mission had taken a toll on him, both mentally and physically.

His fingers reach for the edge of the counter as he finally stays on his feet without the fear of falling onto the floor. His tired eyes close for a moment as he takes in his surroundings, his lonely apartment and his lonely life and his lonely self and his —.

He shakes his head, he wasn’t exactly in solitude. After that hurried meeting with you, he gained a new friend. He got to know you personally, something that he had missed for the longest time. To actually know someone deeper and not only their last names and occupations.

In exchange, he gave himself the chance to be more vulnerable. He couldn’t deny the attraction that he felt. But he was too afraid to fuck up the chance to have something meaningful with you. He told you about his years at the police academy, and he briefly shared his experience in Raccoon City, trying to be as vague as possible. In other words, he bared his soul to you.

But that didn’t mean everything was filled with butterflies and rainbows.

One night when you were treating one of his injuries (which he never treated in the past) he accidentally told you about his addictions and dark thoughts. Those which showed a persistent state of numbness and trauma. It was never his intention to worry you about those minor things, which he truly believed were not important.

But, as he recalls that night, he realizes that sadly, he can’t just end it all with a bullet through his brain. He has always thought about it, it’s not like the thought hasn’t crossed his messed up mind on those lonely nights when he wished someone would grant him a blink of sleep without having to dream about death and despair.

His eyes open as he once again walks through the kitchen, the moonlight provides a faint source of light that casts on his dark space of living. He remembers that you once told him he should get some lights, and he indeed bought them but he can’t just seem to find enough time to put them on.

His mind wanders through the moments he has spent with you. You always said the most soothing of things, when you wanted to. You advised him, told him how worthy he can be and how special he must be to others even though they don’t know it yet.

Another step.

He didn’t quite catch the meaning of those words. For him, he only brings despair wherever he goes. A demon of destruction and annihilation. If hell had a list of its next guests he believes his name would be on the top of that list. God wouldn’t want him in his paradise.

One more step.

Nonetheless, you weren’t a teddy bear who only chanted words of praise and fairy-tale stories. You called out his bullshit, especially when he dared to joke about going back to his old habits.

Stop.

“Would you like a glass of whiskey?” He would sarcastically ask you whenever you visited him at his apartment, knowing the kind of reaction he would get out of you. You had none of that, though. As soon as he uttered those words, the grip your hand had on his arm would get tighter to the point that Leon would beg you to stop it.

He knew you genuinely cared for him and he convinces himself that you’re wasting your time with someone like him. Someone already broken from the start. You were younger, with a life ahead of yourself, and a career to follow. And like the devil incarnate that he is, he is stopping you from that.

The story repeats itself, everything he touches turns into dust. He’s no longer a human but the shell of a man who once had dreams of becoming a cop. To become someone who would help innocent people. But instead, he’s killing those same poor souls in the name of the fucking government.

His fingers graze over the cabinet.

He despises his life, he hates everyone who forced him to follow this path. The resentment flows in his system as his hand grips the cabinet door even tighter; if he wasn’t so tired from his mission, he would have broken the tacky wooden furniture.

Why does it have to be this way?

Why does he have to continue witnessing the horrors of his life every day?

Why do the ghosts of people haunt him every day as he tries to close his eyes and relax?

Why has he become so desensitized to the bloodshed and yet as soon as he comes back to reality, it knocks the air out of his lungs?

And why is he already unscrewing the lid of his whiskey?

Time slows down for a moment as he gambles his choices. It's been months since he last took a sip from his so beloved whiskey. But at the same time, just one tiny drop would crumble all of his progress.

But why is progress so important if the product is going to be the same? Even if he gets better, his life won't. The only difference is that he may smile more during missions and act like everything is fucking alright even if it isn't.

But he isn't so lucky to fall deeper into his hell that easily. As soon as the cap falls onto the floor, the front door knob twists, announcing that someone is entering.

And who else has a key to his apartment?

The last person he wants to see right now.

The door creaks, antagonizing the imminent moment when you would see him at the scene of the crime with him being the culprit of his own homicide.

“Leon?” He hears you say as you step in, the darkness of the room allowing him a couple of seconds to hide the murder weapon – the bottle – and act clueless. But it seems that not even his nervous system is on his side. He just stands still.

“Sorry for being late. I had one hell of a shift back at–...” He sees your frame as you approach the kitchen. Your face falls momentarily, taking in the sight you were watching. Disheveled hair, bruises all around his face, and dark eyebags that gave the impression he hadn't slept for weeks.

Your eyes fall on the bottle in his hand. There was no cap which leads you to believe that he was drinking. Leon wanted to scream and tell you that you got it all wrong, but no words left his lips.

“Are you drinking?” Anger-filled, you take long strides before reaching for the bottle. Your eyes scan the content, seeing that it is half empty. Your accusatory gaze falls on Leon's.

“It's not what it looks like.” Worst phrase ever. He knows that he's telling you the truth, yet he couldn’t come up with anything worse than that.

He looks like a kicked puppy, his eyes wide open as you keep staring at him with those eyes filled with… disappointment which it's worse than being screamed at. He wasn’t built for that. He was used to resentment looks, to punches and kicks. But disappointment came every time he had to tell families that their father wouldn’t make it that night because he died on a mission. It came each time he had to inform a mother that their beloved son succumbed to a virus.

The once rookie cop still lives within him. The one who hates disappointing people, the one who wants to save everyone. But especially the one who can’t do it alone.

“Then help me understand.” You place the bottle on the kitchen counter. Your stare doesn’t falter yet a hint of concern washes over your face. “Because all I see is you drinking after literally promising me that you’d never do it again.”

As a matter of fact, you didn’t actually see him drinking. He wanted to say that, but he knew it would bring even more anger to your already burning expression. However, as soon as that thought left his mind, another one came.

The sole fact that he didn’t drink, doesn’t spare him from any culpability. If it wasn’t for your intrusion, he’d be lying on the couch, wasted and intoxicated waiting to pass out.

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your emotions in check. Leon isn’t dumb, he’s exhausted but he’s aware of how much you’re holding back. You would never scream at him, that’s obvious. But you didn’t want to bring even more self-hatred to him.

He had his own mental battles, ones you will never understand no matter how much he describes them to you. His anxiety was always bothering him, like an annoying bug buzzing in his ear. You knew how overwhelming everything was.

And you knew how recovery wasn’t an easy step to take, but it definitely takes so much maturity and perseverance, something that Leon surrounds himself in – even though he doesn’t see it. He’s a fighter, he’s a hero, he’s a lover. He keeps fighting and fighting even when he doesn’t see an end. But he mastered the art of moving forward.

So, he’s allowed to fall from time to time.

“Did you drink?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Were you planning on doing it?”

He’s silent for a moment, he’s afraid that his answer will mean more disappointment from you. That you will get to see how pathetic he really was.

“Yes.” He eventually confesses.

You absentmindedly nod, letting out a long sigh.

“Another mission?”

“...yes.”

You didn’t ask for the details, knowing – to an extent – about Leon’s job, you knew it must have been so impactful in order to almost throw him back to his old friend, alcohol. And you knew Leon was like a sponge, he absorbs everything he experiences and never tells anyone. You thank God that he accidentally told you about his addiction, now you can at least protect him.

“It was…” Leon continues speaking, his fingers scratching a spot on the kitchen counter. His eyes don’t meet yours, as if he’s trying his best to make the words come out of himself. “It was really bad this time.”

He lets out a dry chuckle that sounds more like an attempt to water down the situation. One thing about him is that he doesn’t cry. He wouldn’t let someone see that side of him. He’s rigid, he’s stoic, he’s unemotional. He’s a DSO agent, born to serve his country and die for it.

But right now he wants to be a child again.

He wants to be that same infant who would fall on purpose just to get kisses from his mother. He wants to be that same innocent child who could come back running to his mom’s arms when the world was too scary.

He wants to stop the world for a second and cry at the top of his lungs, he wants to punch a wall until his knuckles bleed, he wants to be held, he wants to be told everything will be okay even if it will never be okay.

His thoughts drift to when he was younger – to when he could imagine himself being a better person. If he could speak with himself, what would he say? The image of a tiny him crosses his mind, a young Leon playing all by himself with tiny police cars.

Within him, there’s a rookie cop begging for help amidst the gruesome scenario he had to face back in 1998. Beneath all the layers of self-hatred and resentment, hidden in that dead gaze.

He shakes his head, in a poor effort of swallowing the lump that was forming in his throat. An imminent sign that his emotions will fall like a waterfall, reminding him of his own weaknesses. His curtain of hair falls onto his eyes, blurring his vision.

Or was it his tears? He no longer knows.

He deserves an award for how hard he’s trying to stop the inevitable. His fingers shake, his breath gets heavier and his heart aches. But he couldn’t bear it for much longer, especially knowing that at least, he had someone to go to when his mind was too much for him.

So, he allows himself to feel human again.

“It was horrible…” He finally breaks down. He silently lets the tears fall from his eyes as he sobs. The thought of every mission is on his mind as the constant spams of his sobs control his body.

He feels like the air has been knocked out of his lungs, the uncontrollable way that he chokes on his sobs makes his throat constricted.

He lowers his head, he doesn’t want you to see how weak he has become. A tough agent simply doesn’t cry. An agent bites, chews, swallows, and shuts up.

Silence sets in the kitchen, occasionally broken by Leon’s tears and choked breaths. His fingers itched to grab something, to hold onto something. To feel that he wasn’t alone, that he was indeed not all by himself in this messed up world.

You slowly reach for him. Baby steps, for someone who was touched starved, even if he was unaware of that fact. For someone that’d jump whenever he feels touched, because his mind can’t let go of the fear of being bitten, of being killed.

You quietly made your way to Leon’s hand, your fingers ever so grazing it. Feather touches brushes against the back of his hand, making sure to notice if he shows any signs of discomfort. There were none.

However, you surely notice that his sobs have stopped for the time being. He’s still sniffing though. As if on cue, his glassy eyes lock on yours, before you fully intertwine your fingers with his.

You didn’t hug him immediately, you didn’t throw your arms around his neck at the very right moment when he started crying, and you especially didn’t give him a shoulder pat as if saying “Don’t cry.” He appreciates the fact that you took it slow, you gave him a warning and proceeded further when he allowed you to.

Loving takes time, and loving Leon would surely take longer than anything you have experienced. You have treated many patients, you know that the injuries in a body heal fairly quickly. Now, the wounds in a soul that was doomed from the start are not something that easy to mend.

After a while of your fingers being intertwined and sweat covering the palm of your hands, you feel the faintest squeeze, coming from Leon’s side. You look at him and see a tiny smile formed on his lips with some dry tears adorning his face.

You say nothing, scared to break the atmosphere of tranquility that had formed after Leon stopped crying. It took some seconds for Leon to muster up the courage to go further, intimacy and platonic touches were already something he was unfamiliar with. Now, he had to add romantic feelings to that list.

If he had met you when he was younger, he’d have surely asked you out. Take you on a nice little date and steal a kiss or two. But now, he was trapped in the course of the years, older and supposedly wiser. However, you were the one who was being strong – for him. Not the other way around.

But, as much as he wants to pity himself and wonder about those what-ifs, he has a friend now. He would take care of that heart of his in the future. For now, he wants to embrace the one friendship he hasn’t tainted yet.

The one person who still hasn’t seen the horrors that this world has to offer.

He untangles his fingers from yours and looking at your eyes one last time, he brings your hand to his cheek. The palm of your hand bringing some warmth to his skin.

With his eyes closed now, you see an expression you haven’t seen before. A peaceful one, as if he was sleeping without his usual nightmares. It was comforting, in a sense, knowing that you have brought a moment of serenity to his tumultuous life.

You were surprised at first, not expecting Leon to show that display of affection. However, part of you understands that he was seeking comfort. It’s been a while since he last felt safe with someone, someone who he could cry with, someone who wouldn’t judge him.

Your thumb grazes over his stubbled cheek, wiping away any proof that he has been crying.

“Thank you…” His voice is barely a whisper, you almost didn’t hear him singing his gratitude.

You want to say “You’re welcome” or “It’s okay” but none of those phrases convey what you really wish to show. Saying the first one would dismiss all of your previous actions as a simple attempt to comfort him. And the latter was a lie, it’s not okay, even if you wanted to believe it yourself.

“I got you.” You stick with that one. It wasn’t a lie but a promise you plan on fulfilling. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise?” He asks, opening his eyes. His tone is a hopeful one.

“I do.” You reassure him.

With your free hand – the one that wasn’t on Leon’s cheek – you reach for the bottle of whiskey that was long forgotten after their little situation.

“But before that, we need to get rid of this.” You show it to Leon before he chuckles. “We’re now only drinking apple juice.”

He didn’t miss the use of we instead of you. Maybe he’s reading between the lines, but he hopes that you’re by his side now that he wants to leave his addiction for sure. He wants you to see how much he can achieve if he sets his mind on it.

“Apple juice it is.”

V. ABSOLUTION.

The nakedness of his body didn't override the vulnerability he showed once he let you in his life, mind, and soul. But as you help him wash his back, he can’t help but reminisce about that first night when he first saw himself in the mirror.

He remembers being insecure about showing his scars to someone, scared that the other person would be disgusted by the sight of it.

However, you weren’t repulsed, far from that. In your mind, Leon’s skin served as a canvas and each bruise and scar were strokes of a paintbrush. In this case, they showed Leon’s hard life and non-achievable freedom. They showed how much Leon had endured and how many fights he had won.

Therefore, they were proof that Leon was a lover of life. He loved everyone else’s lives that he would sacrifice his in order to protect the world.

Leon sometimes drops hints about his job. He didn’t directly tell you about the government and its fucked up methods, but you collected the clues and formed your own puzzle.

He was forced to join.

It was strange, in a way. To know that a gentle soul like him had to face the hostility of a country, of a government that could easily threaten someone into joining the force. However, you weren’t clueless about its power.

Eventually, after those hints, other hints came along the way.

Leon was sweet, funny, and a gentleman. Your dynamic as a nurse and patient was long forgotten even though you still tend to some of his wounds. And your friendship shifted into something more, especially after the whiskey situation months ago.

However, even though his qualities overshadow his flaws, there’s something he can’t hide.

He’s too awkward for his own good.

Ever since the alcohol incident, Leon would always try to be smooth and compliment you over the simplest things. “Have you done something different to your hair? No, you didn’t? Oh… Well, it looks good” He would often facepalm himself because he couldn’t flirt even if his life depended on it.

Eventually, after those not-so-discrete hints, he took matters into his own hands. He often faked minor injuries. “You don’t understand, my eye literally hurts” and he would have access to admire every tiny detail your face had to offer. From your moles to the way your eyebrows furrowed trying to concentrate.

And that led to feathery touches. In the name of friendship, of course.

After one dinner – that Leon so gratefully prepared – you would often find yourself sitting on the couch, shoulders pressed to one another as you played with his rough hands. You would ask him where he got that scar, how he got this one right here, wow it looks really deep.

And he let you because he did the same. Because those angel-like touches soon turned into endlessly staring sessions where silence was more inviting than any word could be. You gazed into each other’s eyes for only God knows how long. Expecting that the other one would break the intimate moment but none of them had the heart to do so.

It would be an understatement to say that Leon felt so safe with you. Over the months, Leon had gotten to know what a home felt like. His apartment remained the same, physically and aesthetically speaking. But the way it immediately lightens up when you arrive – yeah, Leon could finally call it home.

That’s why, it was so easy for Leon to let those words slip out of his mouth one night when you were leaving.

“You feel like home.”

And for a moment, you let those words sink into you. You thought you were merely an acquaintance, a simple friend at most. But no – there he was, Leon Kennedy, US government agent, telling you that you’re his home.

Meanwhile, the silence at that moment made Leon go insane. He thought he fucked it up, you would surely run away now. Who the fuck says that someone is their home? Shit shit shit—

“You’re my home too.”

And that was everything he needed to hear to stop all of his dark thoughts from appearing once again. The darkness that embraced both of them set the perfect scenario to indulge in this crucial moment. A late confession, but a real one.

As he gazes into your eyes, he can’t help but wonder if this tiny fragment of happiness would go away like everything else had in his life. You’re too precious, too important to die, to vanish from his life and never come back.

And your hand reached for his cheek, your thumb caressing the same scar you noticed when you first met him, he couldn’t help but ask God to grant him one more chance in life. He promises — in a fragment of seconds — to be a better human, to be a better citizen but please, don’t take away this last string of hope he’s holding to.

And he felt that God had finally responded to his prayers when he saw how you leaned closer, letting your lips find his in a gentle but so meaningful and awaited kiss. He hesitantly parted his lips, scared that this may be a dream. But of course, he doesn’t dream so that had to be the reality. The sorrow, the anxiety, the longing, and the expectations — all of those were long forgotten as he mentally thanked destiny for this.

“Earth to Leon” You giggle behind him as you rub a sponge all over his back. You were careful not to be so rough on his already aching back. “A penny for your thoughts?”

Of course, he found himself daydreaming.

From that night, his relationship with you skyrocketed. And his home became your home too.

He doesn’t know when it happened, but he found himself getting even more comfortable with you. He didn’t even need to ask himself — letting you see him naked as both of you wash each other’s bodies? Yeah, it was definitely love.

And he loves being in love.

“I just spaced out for a bit.” He responds with a yawn, the silence that surrounded both of you was inviting to just sleep throughout the night. Funnily enough, you only just sleep. Leon was grateful the first nights since he was getting used to the fact that someone else was sleeping on his bed.

But now he was growing a bit impatient.

Especially with your lingering touches.

As you let the water wash away all the soap, your lips soon find his back, pressing soft kisses on each scar that adorned his skin. “It’s okay…” a kiss on a tiny scar. “Are you going to take your sleeping pills tonight?” Another kiss on a scar that was near his shoulder.

Right… he was put on medication. He often takes sleeping pills when his eyes won’t shut down even if drowsiness is engulfing him. But lately, sleep has become easier, and his nightmares have decreased.

He’d like to think that after you started sleeping next to him, his mind started to feel at peace. But that was something unreal, nobody could fix someone.

But he had to be honest, you surely helped him a lot.

“Not tonight.”

He feels you nodding as your chin lays on his shoulder blade. It’s in moments like these where he thinks that life doesn’t sound so bad. As he zones out and lets you do all the job, he realizes that maybe it’s okay to keep on living.

He’s a big teddy bear, to say the least. The DSO agent who once swore duty to his country was pushed aside when he was with you. Why would he need to keep up his facade when home meant security, therefore you are what makes him safe. So, as you help him out of the shower, drying him off with a towel he lets you take the reins, his body on autopilot mode.

His strong arms wrap around your frame, perfectly molding and fitting like puzzle pieces. It feels like the flow of water, gently swaying your bodies until they reach their destination, their little nest away from everything outside.

He takes pride in serving, providing, and protecting. It was deeply imprinted in him, right in his bone marrow. The blood that runs through his veins pushes him to never stop, to continue working for others.

However, as you help him sit down on the bed his mind shuts down for a moment. He allows himself to take this moment of peace and drown himself in it. Be a little selfish, if he can. The tranquility of a domestic setting was still so foreign to him yet he doesn’t understand how he could’ve lived without feeling this for so long.

The towel around his midsection hugs him just right to prevent the material from falling. His hair is still a little wet, and so is yours. You use the extra towel to help him dry off.

He very much enjoys the lazy touches you share at nights like these. It was a nice reminder that the darkness of the imminent dusk will not bring more nightmares, but peaceful dreams. The ghost of his past was getting tired of haunting him, it seems.

You’re still pretty careful with him, as if you were handling fine ceramic which in a sense, he was. He was shattered porcelain, glued back together with utter care. You both were artists, who completed with great skill this piece of art called life.

And now, your lips are acting like a brush, as they touch Leon’s skin. Kisses are planted along his jaw and he lets out a sigh from the feeling of being treated with so much devotion. If he could serve as a blank canvas, he was ready to rewrite his story with you.

Or maybe not rewrite, his past made him a person as much as it hurts. His grief, his pain, and his previous solitude built up the man that he is now. So, he will add another page to his life story. He will paint another landscape where the sun rises and casts its lights on the world.

He looks at you and sees nothing but raw love and a hint of desire hidden behind those orbs. He notices, then, that just like him you are indeed eager to please him in the other sense of the word. It was embarrassing to realize that he shouldn’t have kept quiet about his needs when you had already proved to him that it was okay to speak, to think, to feel.

It’s been a while since he last let himself be this physically vulnerable. Sure he wasn’t an inexpert in the area but it has never been this intimate. Hearts never bonded and names weren’t remembered. Never has someone truly cared about his welfare before. To put it a name, he’d have called it a trade. He let off some steam and the other part got what they wanted. No strings attached and surely no feelings hurt.

However, it would be a lie if he told himself he didn’t crave to actually make love to someone. To feel someone’s body brushed against his in a sweet and gentle motion. To let himself and his soul be kissed with so much love that it would make him cringe.

You stop your waterfall of kisses for a while, letting the silence linger for a few seconds as you grab his hand. Slowly, you interlace your fingers with him, a well-known display of affection from you. Your signature, you may even say.

“Hey…” His eyes search yours, and he sees how you’re looking for approval, for his consent. He once heard eyes are the mirror of someone’s soul and the world suddenly feels so small as he remembers that he met those same eyes months ago, unaware of the effect you’d have on him.

“Hey.” You repeated, for the second time this night, his mind decided to wander again. “Is it okay if…” you trail off, not because of embarrassment or sudden shyness, not at all. But he can deduce that you wanted him to finish your sentence.

I’ve been dying to touch you. I’ve been craving you touching me, he wanted to say. However, his sense of decency stops him from uttering that rather needy phrase. In a way, he can infer that you already know about his lustful desires. It was a matter of time before both of you indulged in those carnally and normal needs.

Nonetheless, he is oblivious that you won’t let this night be like any other. No, you wouldn’t try anything too crazy — not yet — But after months of knowing him deeper and rawer, you know he’s tired. Exhausted from his life, exhausted from his job, and overall drained. He deserves to be treated right and you’ve been excelling in that task.

But, you’ll show him that he can be as greedy as he wants to be.

“You can trust me.” You say in a hushed tone as if you were whispering a secret to him. Your hand slowly descends until it reaches where the towel meets his waist.

“I do trust you.” He responds with a determined tone amidst the suggestive move of your hand. “I feel like I won the lottery with you.”

“Is that so?” You laugh, resuming your kisses around his stubbled cheek. Although this time, they carry some neediness in them.

“Positive.” He lets out a shaky breath as your finger ever so grazes over where the towel is tucked in. “Because you saw good in me when I had nothing to offer, you—”

“Stop.” Your voice remains soft even though your command doesn’t falter. ”None of those self-loathing words right now.”

He’s speechless for a moment before he slowly nods and lets your hand go lower. Leon feels his blood going south just from a few words.

But then again, loving you was really easy. So it was no surprise that he found himself already leaking at the anticipation of your imminent touch.

“Let me make you feel better.” You whisper, allowing your hand to undo the towel that was previously wrapped around him. In a swift movement, it falls on the floor exposing his already hard length.

You glance at Leon one last time and observe his reaction. There was no sight of changes of mind or hesitation, so you free his and your desire.

You connect your lips against his neck, and with gentle sucks, you prepare him for what’s about to come. Your wish —besides touching him— is bringing comfort in such an intimate act like this. He has trusted you with his soul and body before, that’s correct. But right now, you can feel the level of loyalty and therefore love he’s showing you.

Your hand reaches for his dick, you thumb the slit of his tip collecting the precum that has already formed there, using it as a lubricant.

Your fingers circle around his cock and, slowly, you start stroking him. You don’t want him to cum just yet, the feeling of being treated like this was something you want him to drown in. So, you keep up the steady pace.

You disconnect your lips from his neck and focus your eyes on your ministration on his cock. The lewd sounds combined with the faint whimpers coming out from his lips were almost like background music that you are starting to love.

He takes the opportunity of you pulling away from his neck to hide his face in the crook of yours. His breath tickles your skin as he continues letting out the most pretty sounds you’ve ever heard.

“Fuck…” He hisses as his word gets lost between the shlick sounds of your hand jerking him off. His nose brushes against the side of your neck as his cries fill your ears. You can hear him whispering your name from time to time, as well as some other curses of his own.

However, his tiny cries of pleasure soon turned into real sobs.

No, he wasn’t sad but Christ, it was the first time actually took their time to focus on his pleasure and his well being. He always thought that love was never meant for him, that the simple act of falling in love would be impossible and unachievable. The thought of having his life attached to someone else used to send shivers down his spine.

Now, his world is no longer black and white, your mere existence brought color to his life.

Your hand stops for a minute, worried that you may have done something wrong. That leads Leon to pull away from your neck as some tears roll down his face.

“Sorry… I — just continue please…” The desperation in his voice didn’t go unnoticed as he went back to nuzzle against your neck. And even if he was dazed out at this very moment, you will remember to talk about this again at another time.

“It’s okay, let it all go.” You reassure him as you resume your previous motions. It doesn’t take long before your hand sends him over the edge and close to his own climax.

You pump him, your thumb grazing over the head of his dick from time to time. He absentmindedly thrust his hips up into your hand, seeking his near release. For him, you were granting him a visit to Heaven itself. Just the mere touch of your hand had him seeing angels and cherubims. How would it feel to be deep inside of you?

His lips are red from biting them, attempting to muffle his moans. His brain is a mess, with thoughts of you and only in there and his cock is throbbing as it chases his own high. Overall, Leon was putty in your hands.

And by the way, his hips are starting to miss their rhythm, you know that it was a matter of seconds before Leon came undone in your hand.

“You’ve been so good for me…” You coo, still jerking him off with a slightly faster pace now. “You deserve to cum, don’t you?” You were always good with words but Jesus, he didn’t expect you would literally talk him through it.

As you whisper those praise words, he can’t stop his hips from rutting and bucking into your hand. “Yeah…— fuck — I’ve been so good. Please, let me cum.”

The image of a tough agent begging for release will surely imprint in your mind for a while.

“Of course.” Your lips tug into a smile as you pick up the pace. It was a sight to behold, seeing Leon coming undone in your hands with his eyes rolling to the back of his head, and a dazed out expression that brought butterflies to your tummy.

Eventually, your hands slow down as Leon writhes under your touch. He lets out a loud muffled whimper as white thick ropes of cum spill onto his stomach and of course, your hand.

He stays still for a while, letting his body rest for a second. He plants lazy kisses on your neck as a way of saying “Thank you” since words couldn’t really translate what he was feeling right.

“Shit—” After a while, Leon curses as his half-lidded eyes meet yours. His expression is one of exhaustion but his lazy smile tells you he was brimming with happiness. He reaches for his towel that was previously thrown off and cleans your hand.

“Are you ok?” You ask as Leon wipes your hand, you can’t help but let out a giggle at the considerate action.

“Yeah but…” He trails off as he cleans his abdomen too. You can already predict what was going on in that head of his. “What about you?”

“I’m okay Leon.” You sigh as you bring your now clean hand to his cheek. “Your pleasure is mine. Besides, you’re exhausted.”

But as much as your statement was true, you can’t deny the desire that was dripping between your thighs. Between the intimacy of your act and having Leon so vulnerable in your hands, your system knows what it wants.

“I am.” He doesn’t deny the fact that your ministrations sucked the life out of him. But he can keep going. For the first time in his life, he is grateful for his stamina as an agent. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t do it.”

Before you could even protest, Leon was already kissing your neck. The scent of your body wash filling his nostrils as his lips get hungrier and needier for the taste of your skin. And as you attempt to once again speak, he muffles your words with his mouth on yours.

You feel your reasoning go weak as well as your limbs. It took a few kisses for you to comply and let yourself be laid on the bed, strong but gentle hands holding you close even when you fell on the soft mattress.

He’s above you for a second as he admires the view. Your towel, unlike his, was still wrapped around your body. You wriggle your way to where the pillows of the bed are and you wait for him there.

He wastes no time to join you, carefully lying next to you rather than above you. You catch a glimpse of what he’s trying to do. One of his calloused hands reaches your waist and softly motions you to roll over your side.

You roll over and you’re met with your reflection on the mirror that was next to your bed. Funnily enough, it was perfectly placed so it showed both of your bodies. Somewhere deep in your mind, you wonder if Leon set up the mirror there for this right purpose.

But then again, Leon was spontaneous, behind all of his layers of grumpiness and sadness that once used to surround him, you knew his sappy, corny, and cheesy side that was hidden. And now, you get to notice his quirks every single day.

He grips your hips as he lays sideways too, slightly spooning you. “You no longer need this…” He murmurs as he takes off your towel, the sight of your bare body in the mirror has his mouth watering. Acting like a damn dog wasn’t on the list of things he’s proud of.

As he discards the fabric that covered your body, you feel his once again hard cock. But this time, it was painfully close to your core that you could already feel every vein brushing against your walls.

“May I?” He knows your answer, he’s just asking for the sake of it. To hear your voice dripping with lust and neediness. To hear you hum that yes in your sweet tone as always.

“Please…” Your whisper was enough to make his cock twitch. What is with you and your voice that melts Leon whenever he hears you? You’re both his salvation and weakness. He can’t function without you.

He has always wanted to leave a mark in this world. That he had indeed existed for something else than death and destruction. That he was more than Leon Kennedy, the US’ best weapon. He wanted to show the world that he, Leon — just Leon — was more than his messed-up destiny.

He loves, he desires, he laughs and he yearns for connection. And right now, his body’s aching to feel you around him.

He snuggles closer and wraps a tight arm around your waist, hugging your abdomen just right. Instinctively, you arch your back, letting your rear brush against Leon’s dick making hiss from the friction.

For a moment, he stops hugging you. You almost whined for the loss of closeness when you feel Leon guiding his dick which easily slides through your wet folds. The tip of it bumps against your clit sending electricity all over your body.

He’s savoring this moment. Sadly, he doesn’t think he’ll last much longer once he starts. But, at least, he knows that this won’t be the last time since he finally allowed himself to be selfish, to wish happiness for himself.

Happiness has a name and is both yours and Leon’s.

At last, he pushed into you, just the tip for now. Admiring your face in the mirror, he whispers sweet nothings against your ear. Rambles about how perfect you look and feel right, how lucky he is, and so on.

“Look at you…” Leon points at the mirror and you open your eyes which are glassy from all the pent-up desire you’ve been holding back. At any other moment given, you’d have been quite self-conscious about the exposure of your naked body. But Leon — as you once did with him — is eager to show you that you’re indeed a sight for sore eyes.

“Look how perfect you look being mine.” Even though his words could sound possessive to anyone else, you know his voice brings out affection and tenderness. There are a few things Leon could call them his. And most of them are mundane items that don’t exactly bring comfort to him.

But to call you his was something that he has always looked for. To show you off, buy you everything you’ve always desired, and tell the world that he had finally found his home. His one and only.

As he finishes his statement with a kiss on your cheek, he eases himself into you. He pushes all of his length as he hushes you once you hiss from the stretch.

“Shhh there you go…” He once again wraps his arm around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he inhales the scent he has grown to love. The same that has been lulling him to sleep ever since you decided to move in with him.

He stays still for a few seconds, the feeling of filling you up could make him cum right on the spot but he stops himself. He distracts from your pulsating walls by kissing your neck and sucking on the skin which will clearly turn a soft purple color the next morning.

The pain soon turned into comfort and therefore it resulted in pleasure. As he hears you saying a soft “You can move” he slowly pulls out before thrusting into you with the same pace and force. He feels your walls clamping down his cock as he continues his motions.

He slides in and out with lazy thrusts, his and your eyes are closed as heavy breaths and drowsy moans leave your lips. You were correct, he was exhausted from his previous high. But the way you drowsily made love was making this whole thing even more perfect.

“Taking me so well.” He murmurs against your skin, his breath tickling your neck as he grips your waist even tighter than before, as if he is scared that once he opens his eyes you won’t be there. “Sucking me in, like you know I belong here.”

His hand goes to your chest, where he plays with one of your nipples. His fingers pinching the sensitive spot as his hips continue lazily bucking into yours already feeling like his mind was all over the place.

You feel a heat forming on your belly as Leon continues whispering words you can’t quite register now. Too drunk in desire and too cock drunk to even care. “Fuck I love you so much…”

“I love you too.” You can’t really say anything else, everything would be sentences with no coherent meaning or sense. So you stick with your favorite phrase, you could sing every day that you love Leon, and he would do the same. Because the word love was once so far away from him.

It was poetic to see that Leon could feel his second climax of the night near as he heard you say that you love him. The back and forth of his hips slightly increase their speed but it remains true to the lazy nature of the act right now, though.

“I’m close.” Leon stutters as he says those words. “Can I come inside you? Please tell me I can.” There is some desperation in his voice, an aching and burning desire to paint your insides.

“Fuck, yes. Yes, you can.” You manage to say before Leon lets out countless thanks you. Your body starts writhing under his grasp as your fingers start digging into Leon’s arms, leaving an imprint of your nails on his skin.

“Cum on me. Go ahead, do it for me.” He coos, coaxing more sweet whimpers out of you. “Let me fill you up.”

You let out a muffled whimper as you came undone. He could feel your cunt gripping him as you reach your desired orgasm. Eventually, Leon’s hips which were previously rocking into your and slapping against his skin are now slowing down.

The wet noises sound so filthy yet Leon is having a blast right now. He could imagine himself getting to experience this every night with you by his side. Who could have thought that selfishness could be so rewarding?

With a low grunt, he cums inside of you as he promised. Letting his load fill your insides. He couldn’t hide the satisfied smile that formed on his lips. What a view.

He remains inside of you for a bit longer than needed. You can’t judge him, especially with the way he nuzzles into your neck letting out a yawn. Poor him was worn out. After his first climax, he had already felt that he touched the sky, and now he was in heaven.

After pulling out, he rested his cheek on your shoulder. Part of him wanted to feel you again yet he couldn’t even move an inch. However, it fulfilled him to know that you were going to be right next to him tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and for as long as you allow it.

“Thank you.” He whispers.

“We have to change those thank you into I love you.”

Leon was the sweetest guy. However, those thanks still came from a place of skepticism.

“Sorry…”

He sheepishly said before drifting off to sleep. And, as usual, no nightmare is waiting for him to haunt his dreams.

VI. SERENITY

Attempting to get out of bed on a lazy Saturday morning should be a crime. However, your drowsy state didn’t stop you from reaching the now empty space next to you. The bed still provided you with the scent of the person you loved the most yet he wasn’t there.

With a groan, you decide to get up from the bed. Your feet meet the cold tiles before you curse from the sudden pain you feel as you step on the remote. You have told Leon countless times that he shouldn’t sleep when he’s watching TV, yet the only response you get is “I’m just resting my eyes.” Therefore, that causes Leon to fall asleep with the remote on his chest which obviously falls throughout the night.

After a while of inhaling and exhaling deeply from the pain, you make your way out of the room. The scenario that greets you is the same as other days just that Leon was missing in the picture.

Your steps are slow as sleep is still running in your system, a yawn escapes you while you walk towards the kitchen counter. A note is waiting for you and you deduce it’s from Leon.

“I just went to run some errands, I’ll come back as soon as possible. Love you so so much.”

His name was written at the bottom of the page next to a happy face that he had drawn. Silly, you thought.

You see that Leon had already prepared you a sandwich before he left. It was cold to the touch, so that means Leon has been gone for a while. He may come any time now.

Life with him was… surely an adventure. He still goes on missions, leaving you to your own devices for days or even weeks. But they no longer haunt his mind like before. He still needs to be treated with utter care after one, though. Bruises and scars are not the only effects his journeys have on him.

When he returns from a mission, the once dull and boring apartment welcomes him yet this time, it is full of colors and memories you have made with him. However, it’s not enough for him to completely drop his facade of a tough agent ready to end someone’s life. As you treat his wound, every tiny sound has him jumping on his seat.

You can’t blame him, it takes a while before he can return to his usual self and be embraced by your warm body that will waste no time to hug him tight. Reminding that he was finally home.

Eventually, after settling down and returning to reality, his personality will shine again. If someone asked you to describe Leon in one word it would be impossible. The man that you chose to spend life with was everything all at once. He was definitely clingy, to begin with. Excuses were his everyday words as he tried to explain why it was completely alright for him to follow you everywhere you went.

At this point, it felt like you had adopted a puppy instead of having a boyfriend. “What’ chu doing?” He would often say as he peeked around the edge of the door frame and watched you from afar If he had a tail it’d be wagging so fast. The tough agent no longer existed in your presence, instead, a man who melted as soon as you hugged him took his place.

Loving, in his language, meant going overboard just for you. If he had to get on his knees and beg for a tiny kiss he’d do it. He’s grown needy to those sweet gestures only you could provide. But he didn’t need to win them. Loving, in your language, meant offering your heart on a platter for him.

God does he love you. You have the man whispering funny names in your ears as you wake up. You unlocked a part of him that he had long forgotten he had, he used to joke when he was nervous — freaking out because he thought he might die on a mission. But now, he invented a plethora of new pet names just to bother you and see you rolling your eyes laughing.

He’s gone through so much, he’s seen so much. Tranquility was the last thing he thought he would be surrounded with. Ever since he was forced to join the military, he made up his mind on the fact that his life would never be the same, Racoon City was his starting point and only his death would stop him from suffering.

Now, as you finally hear the door unlocking you admire how his figure appears. You squint your eyes as you try to pinpoint what’s different in him.

“Hey, you.” Leon walks towards you, closing the gap between you two as he hugs you.

“Hey, you too.” You return the hug, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Missed me?”

“Not much.” You punch his side, not strong enough to make him jump but rather tell him that you were joking. “Now… On what adventures did you go without me?”

“I just paid a visit to Adelaide.”

Adelaide, you haven’t forgotten about the old lady that you treated. However, you didn’t expect Leon to remain loyal to his service. And now that he mentions it, you realize what he has done to himself.

His hair has turned lighter. Blonder.

“Did you bleach your hair?” You can’t help but laugh at the thought, he had poor Adelaide working so early on a Saturday morning. But then again, you remember that both of them are workaholics, even though their jobs couldn’t be any more different.

“No, you’re going blind.”

God, he was so dumb.

Eternity used to sound like a cruel fate before. Stuck in a loop that he couldn’t escape from. But now, he will always look for you even in the tiniest details. He’d look for you in the darkness as two flicks of light trying to reach each other. In the universe, as two particles of stardust waiting to create something even bigger — a world for themselves, and a world to live on.

Because, after all, you reached for him when he had nothing more to offer than his rotten self. You loved him when he couldn’t even love himself.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy #resident evil

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starshipsofstarlord · 1 year ago

Text

not yet corpses. still, we rot.

summary. you were surviving after the prison fell, whilst you felt lost deep inside of yourself. without daryl, and the others that you had lost and yet to find, everything only seemed to get worse. and all was proven when the claimers interrupted your futile attempts of avoiding nightmares

warnings. death, gore, violence, angst, fluff, smut, unprotected sex, swearing, mentions of s.a, mentions of death

notes. i changed the specification of the timeline a tiny bit, i moved the timeline of the smut into a flash back as in my head y/n and daryl would be too on guard to fuck after all that trauma. i hope you enjoy my attempt at writing your request, i’d love to know your thoughts 🖤

MINORS DNI (18+), I DO NOT CONTROL YOUR CONSUMPTION ON THIS BLOG 👻

divider credits. @cafekitsune

The crickets sung as aspiring performers in the midst of the fire’s crackling, you were cold, tired and hungry, and all that you wanted to hear was the epiphany of silence. Each limb in your body ached sourly from the endless trekking that you had participated within, the chance to close your eyes and rest sounded spectacular.

But you refrained from succumbing to a fuelling slumber, for you would only be haunted by the reality of the situation that you had no home, and members of your found family were lost to the land that crawled with ravenous walkers… or dead.

The warmth provided from the flames was greatly appreciated by your bumpy flesh, and you stared distantly into the licking of sunset coloured mirage of the makeshift campfire. It dried the whites of your eyes to an irritating texture, however it was better than facing the truth behind the pitiful glances that the three survivors that you had structured the prison alongside donated in your direction.

You weren’t looking for sorrowful attention, you just wanted to find as many of your group as you could, selfishly Daryl more than others. The plain silver band on your finger glinted from the source of radiating and manmade light, flickering your memory back to you and Daryl tying the knot in a place that you had hoped would remain secure.

If it wasn’t for the Governor and his manipulated army, then it would have. You were glad they had their fates, or at least you assumed they all had considering the destruction that had been waged in the graveyard like grounds. There were countless lives that you had ensured were ended as you did your best to ensure that they would regret their life ruining choices.

The clouds grew agitatedly darker within the midnight sky above you, and to the dismay of your body’s survivalist needs, your shoulders shrunk from the bitter air as Rick extinguished the source of warmth. As you idly sat by, remaining in your shroud of speechless presence, Rick escorted Carl to the immobile vehicle, allowing him to sleep on the backseats for extra protection from the horrors that could possibly creep up on you in the night.

Michonne moved closer to you, placing her hand which rarely not held her executing samurai on your jacket clothed bicep, the moment was tender considering that she was doing her utmost to comfort you. “He’s out there,” she spoke with confidence, believing each word that left her mouth. “He’s a survivor, and he knows what he’s doing out there.”

“We were all survivors.” It was a statement, one that caused you great misery to say. “But in the end nobody survives, we’re all going to die one day, and some of the people out there are worse than the walkers. There’s no saying what has happened to the others… to Daryl…” You shook your head, trailing off into a weight of what one would describe as tranquility.

For you however, it was a reminder that in your future everything would be mute. The outbreak would demolish the remaining population of every single species, tainting them with transformative virus until the new and ‘improved’, infinite flock of homo sapiens lay ruin and feast to anything that breathed. The world now belonged to the dead, they were suitably adapted to the unforgiving nature of the world.

Their past minds had been erased, the concepts of a once modern life vanquished as society was. There was nought memories of waiting in endless queues in supermarkets, or eating a buttered bucket of popcorn in a movie theatre. All that corrupted the simple minds of the corpses was necessity to devour anything that they envisioned as food - your mindsets were now of similar values in that slim respect.

Just thinking of your mouth being bitterly tainted with a murderous wash of irony blood revolted you; it was something that you would never swallow, literally. Ripping into human flesh with your very teeth was a repulsive reminder that one bite, or a death without a deadly pressure to the brain, would turn you into one of those monsters. You had to remain alert, despite your body’s almost hypnotic drowsiness to fall asleep.

At least Rick and Michonne had each other, even if they did not acknowledge the true depth of their reciprocated support. You could tell that through their reunion something had changed within their dynamic, and you missed the deep likeness of companionship that you had shared with Daryl. Often times than not, you and the southern blooded archer would be among the seemingly endless forestation that surrounded the safe homestead of the prison, tracking and hunting critters that could surpass as an edible hors d'oeuvres.

There would be bashful conversations drifting between the two of you, whether that be a suave competition of whom could catch the most lustre of nut harbouring squirrels, or- well, in simpler terms, a concoction of unholy words that would prevail when he was erratically buried inside of your cunt. You’d go at it like rabbits in prosperous heat whilst present in the woods; the prison had no privilege of privacy since the residents of Woodbury had adjoined with the residing numbers.

And that was the thing you missed the absolute most, having your man close, in any which way. That cramped bunk within your sheet concealed cell was something you’d die for currently, you adored being pressed up against Daryl’s chest, listening to his tame heart beat, as you fell tentatively asleep.

Watch was more exhausting than it appeared, with a traipse dignifying each of your steps, you rubbed your heavy eyelids, hoping to excuse the tiredness that was overwhelming your body. In your dominant hand you used your shotgun as a walking cane, forcing yourself to return to your cell that you missed dearly. It was better than falling into a shrouding slumber in the middle of the hall; that almost sounded tempting, considering you wouldn’t have to move any further through the large prison, but you had more reason than a cot to sleep on calling your name.

And you saw it as you achingly slid past the hanging drape of a sheet that allowed some privacy in the individual cell that you always returned to and housed your random array of nicknacks that you had picked up on runs into permanently closed stores. Daryl’s body was strewn across the thin mattress, his hand laid across his face covering his depth-full eyes, as his chest rose and fell in an irregular accordance - he was still conscious, unable to doze off into plentiful rest.

Your lips tugged in an endearing smile that he couldn’t see, and you couldn’t resist from creeping closer. That was all you required, to be close to him. There were only a handful of steps remaining until you got to your desired destination, and without so much of a thought, you persevered. “Hey.” The tone that radiated from you was weak, throughout the daytime, your schedule had been filled with condemning tasks which were necessary to keep the smooth run of the prison a constant. Whilst you were doing your maintenance, there had been a not so big, yet not so small, hoard of walkers appear from over the horizon.

Michonne had joined you with handling their swift executions, but your shoulders ached from the striking violence, and the dragging of water caskets; the council, of which you were a part of, had decided to move them out of the sun so their contents would be of a hydrating temperature.

“Ya okay sunshine?” Daryl rolled around so that he was on his side, and sat up on the edge of the bed with a crouching back so that he could view your approach of him. You came to stand between his legs, enjoying the sensation of his hands running around your hips, their warmth filling you with comfort. To lull into the atmosphere which was turning sensual, your fingers coiled in his hair, running through the locks that had grown over the months.

His nose ran softly up your stomach, as he buried his face into your form, having reciprocated your yearning for his company. With a smooth drag from his strong arms, you fell delightedly into his lap, your faces meeting in a staring match as he brushed the side of your face with his hand. “Love ya, so fuckin’ much, my stunnin’ girl.” He mumbled, leading your lips to his in a slow and meaningful collision. The moment was tender, doused in every word that you were too exhausted to say aloud. You were communicating via your actions, discarding the apparel that concealed your bottom halves, giving you the opportunity to slide your cunt down on his erect cock.

You felt blissfully full, the qualms that had bent you to their will through the day slipping instantaneously away. The cupping of your palms positioned themselves on his exposed shoulders, and you ground your hips together, feeling his tip prod deep within you. Daryl shuffled back, kicking his legs out as he wrapped his arms around your frame, treating you so delicately as he fucked you from below. His lips cascaded along every inch of skin that your tank left bare, expressing his adoration for you with his lips and the little circles he drew along your hips. He could never get enough of being close to you, since the first time the two of you had shared together, he had gained more confidence with his role in the sexual situations you shared.

The breaths that huffed past your lips in attempts of being quiet were addictive to his ears, he was desperate to get an audible sound to fester out of you, but the pleasured expression that was imposed on your face was enough; he knew that he was making you feel amazing, and in these lovemaking events, that was all that mattered to him. He groaned at the thought of being somewhere private, where you could make a sound without disturbing anybody, or risking walkers stumbling upon you.

You were close, Daryl could feel it, your walls clenched uncontrollably around his length, which drove him wild, and cautiously he bucked his hips upwards a little faster, careful not to cause the bed to squeak to badly as there were people sleeping in both cells either side your own. He sat further up, his back straighter so that he could brush his teeth gently along your jaw, driving you wild as your hands drove beneath the sleeveless sides of his shirt, caressing his scarred flesh with tentativeness.

You were snapped out of your daydream in the omnipotent dark as you felt the scuffing of crinkling leaves, and before you could adjust into defensive action, there was a cold metal muzzle pressed into your muzzle, by a man with silver locks and a denim vest suited to his greedy physique. Without a doubt, these were the same men that had traipsed upon the house that you and Rick had been inhabiting whilst Michonne and Carl were strolling the streets.

They were claimers to objects they valued as things that their greed thirsted for, and you shuddered a breath as the man threatening your life steadied his grotesque arm upon your shoulder all the whilst he opened his mouth to converse impolitely. “Maybe we’ll keep this one alive, she’s a looker.” It felt as though he was bragging about the possibility to his hungry followers that you could be his property.

He recognised Rick that was for sure. You’d been a witness to the man that had taken it upon himself to cozy his fat ass on the toilet, and the way in which his throat was denied oxygen to passage through it. You and Rick had been huddled under the bed that dipped from their pocket heavy weights as you had ran to awaken him as you were certain you’d heard something before they bustled into the once home to a stranger that was no doubt long dead. And in your escape, you had put a deadly pressure on the invader’s throat… until he permanently passed out.

To exasperate your distaste for his misogynistic idea, you spat upon the ground, your nostrils flaring as you dared to spin your head back so that his gun was resting upon your forehead. If he was going to shoot, he might as well make it quick, considering you didn’t intend to be alive if they had the intentions of taking sick advantage of your body.

As you prepared to retort an insult that foully would cause further trouble for you and your friends, they momentarily became distracted but still alert as a figure slunk onto the clearing. You had to allow your vision to focus, and when it did, you were shocked in the best possible way. It was Daryl, and he was certainly alive. He seemed to be acquainted with this pack of scavengers, and you realised that the ordeal in which he had went through was the only way in which he could have survived.

He didn’t liken association with low lives that threatened those he cared about, however he hadn’t seen their full nature until now. Daryl felt at a crossroads as he took complete acknowledgment of the weapon that was frozen against your skull; he couldn’t be rash, they were a lousy, impulsive group, and he was lit with elation in every cell of his body to see that you were still breathing.

“Jus’ hold up.” His gentle footsteps were slowly approaching in a careful regard as his voice strained with caution. He couldn’t help but eye Joe up - he had a gun to your damn head! If he pulled that trigger… he wouldn’t allow that bullet to be released. You were far too great a risk to have on the line, he had to settle this, like a man. Rick was squinting up at him, determining the reason for the unsurprising reaction the claimers had given his presence.

“One of these two is the one that killed Lou so we got nothing to talk about.” The rugged, richly certain statement fled from one of the thieving men, as he had his long barrel raised, Rick being the focus on the end of his gun that had most likely been stolen in the crossfires of their apocalyptic journey. Anything was loot to them, even with their rules, they were scoundrels no doubt before the end of the world had began, and they would leave it no different. But Daryl wasn’t willingly going to allow them to either kill or claim you, your worth was insanely precious, and he wouldn’t allow all you had been through to be for nothing.

“The thing about nowadays is we got nothin’ but time.” Joe said from behind you, realising that finally, Daryl had proven himself despite the cautionary warnings and delivered punishments that the archer had bore witness to, but he was just to be a loss to them if he didn’t get behind the way, then he would just be an obstacle in the way. “Say your piece Daryl.” This was his final chance, but he had been given an opportunity. Joe liked to think of himself as an understanding man, there was always a reason as to why a swine didn’t want to roll in the mud; his gaze noticed that your eyes didn’t deter away from the redneck that was new to his ranks. There was an expression that he didn’t recognise upon upon your face, but he was willing to use it for his own purposes if it came to such a crossroads.

“These people…” Daryl cast his eyes momentarily at you again, as though he was pleading for you to remain still and allow him to be the peacemaker. And you subtly nodded, brows drawing together as you concentrated on the group members who had taken up space in your surroundings. “You gon let em go. These are good people.” He was attempting to find some humanity in this man who was leaning like a shadow over you, if there was any. It was the same careful traipse of dialogue that he would use with Merle when he was being inconsiderate before the outbreak, it hardly worked, his brother would laugh and call him a pussy, but Daryl had learned how to use his heart.

It was there to love, and whilst it still felt new, to be loved. These were his people, you were his person, and it was his responsibility to save you. He had tried to protect Beth, and whilst she had gotten out of that mortuary house with her life in tact despite the wave of walkers that had invaded through the front door, she still had to be alive. And so did the others, wherever in the country they were, no one was weak, each of you had your own strengths and that would get you somewhere. It had to.

“Now I-I-I think Lou would disagree with yer on that.” The grey haired man stuttered, and you weren’t sure whether it was due to the lack of respect he felt from Daryl whom he had taken in as one of his own - a stray, or if he felt inferior. You supposed it was the latter, there was a continual pattern with each man that fought for power that you had noticed after your encounters. They feared any soul opposing them, it made them appear frail and insecure, just like the Governor had been with the instances involving Andrea and Michonne. “I’ll of course have to speak for him an’ all because your friends here strangled him in a bathroom.”

Guilt overflowed like a faucet in your throat; you didn’t regret killing ‘Lou’. Rick had been your supporting witness, but there were no longer court trials condemned to determine the punishments for living, instead those that thought they were in control of the passers-by that they encountered - and to them, what fit every crime was death. There was now nought reason for you to brood in your squalor, you could see Daryl’s face, and if that was the last image that you had earned before the end of your life, you were glad. Though you were stubborn to go out fighting, otherwise your entire life after the prison; the tears, the passiveness, and the little amount of blood that had spilt from you would all have been for nothing.

“You want blood, I get it.” Daryl read them, Joe had already killed one of his own men, he wouldn’t hesitate when it came to a found family of strangers. They weren’t good people, they were miscreants that had given him the choice to either join them on their sin induced travelling, or die. And he had been broken, lost and alone, there had been no other choice if he had the intent of surviving in order to drains you. With disregard, he threw his arms in a stance, disarming himself as his crossbow flew out of his hands, falling on the ground, showcasing that he had an offer that Joe would not justify with a refusal “Take it from me man. Come on.”

Your heart swelled, Daryl was putting his own life on the line so that he could save you and your friends. A glaze of emotion was cast over your eyes, as you tried to slow your heartbeat, if you panicked, none of you would get out of this. “This man and woman killed our friend. You say their good people.” It was ironic, if you weren’t so shocked you would have stifled a laugh. These people weren’t friends, there weren’t any tears for their dear Lou, no, they craved any excuse to take and take and take. The revenge they were stubborn with pursuing was only a reason to get their hands bloody, and feel powerful as they got further away from the concept of being a human. “Now that right there i-i-is a lie. It’s a lie!”

Daryl couldn’t bargain through this, they were set in stone when it came to their perception of inflicting both emotional and physical pain. With disappointed defeat, his arms flopped haplessly at his sides, as he continued to stand straight. He had to get through to them! They could budge just a little, he just had to encourage them, make them believe that letting you live was the wrong thing to do. “C’mo-” Before he could continue his pleads to be the centre of violent attention, one of the lowlife claimers wretched their foot into his stomach, causing him to wheeze uncontrollably from the harsh impact.

At the sight alone of him getting hurt, it was on instinct that you prepared to swerve into action. You had to stop this, you had to save him. Your hands scratched against the golden leaves that were all over the ground as you tried to scramble up on your feet, attempting to prevent further bruising or blood withdrawal from Daryl’s body, however a sharp pain flew through your scalp. Joe had grabbed you, maintaining you as his hostage as his fingers weaved aggressively through your hair, forcing you to jut your chin out from the painful discomfort.

“Teach him fellas.” His tone was strong as he beckoned his orders, his deep, soulless eyes twitching from the agitation that had pent up within him. “Teach him all the way.” He ensured that they were aware of what he wanted, and the rest of the claimers were gratified to comply with his protocol of brutality, shoving Daryl up against the frozen vehicle, the clash of his body against it being audible from where you knelt. They threw punch after hateful punch, and Daryl struggled to maintain his stance against them; it was two against one.

“C’mere boy.” The words were growled out through the open car door, as Carl was dragged away from the hiding space. He couldn’t escape, and the claimers were getting the best of your group, and they were in afraid to draw blood. A knife was held firmly against the boy’s throat, and your eyes bulged from the petrifying suspense. Tears slipped from Carl’s blue eyes that had witnessed far too much for his age, and Rick began to panic. Lori had lost her life when she was birthing Judith, who now was also somewhere in the unknown, probably dead. He wouldn’t fail as a father a second time and allow his remaining child to die. “You leave him be!” Rick bellowed, which only made the sick men chuckle at his despair as they held him down from writhing towards an escape to rescue his son.

“Listen it was me! It was just me!” The words shrieked from your lips, as you felt a pool of despair puddle in your eyes. This was all because of you, perhaps if you hadn’t panicked within the moment of entrapment, and you hadn’t forlorn Lou to whichever afterlife lay after the present, then the claimers would have spared you, envisioning you as stragglers that had done no harm. There was a debt to be paid; a score that Joe felt he had to settle, and it was all because of your pathological actions. If anyone had to own up and pay the cost of taking the life of their adjoined associate, it should be you.

They wanted a permanent justice of a life, and you were happy enough to allow them to take it, as long as you were deemed the victim. That said however, if there was a route away from a pledged sentence, you would take it so that your entire family, including you would be spared. You just had to wait for the opportunity to present itself, and then there would be no hesitation on your part. “See now that’s right.” Joe’s words saturated your spine with a discerning flavour of fright, as he pushed the threatening metal harsher against the shell of your brain.

Rick’s eyes drifted in a frantic debauch between his sobbing son, who was thrashing under the weight of the gruesome man who conveyed him as nothing more than an activity; he’d enjoy watching him die; and you, whom was rigid from head to toe. His mind tried its damndest to calculate a way to save you both, you’d become like a sister to him despite the arrogance that you’d greeted him with back at the Atlanta camp, blaming him dreadfully for Merle’s captivity on that rooftop, rather than Merle and his big, loud and agonising mouth that tended to land him in a swarm of trouble. You had always been on Daryl’s side, but now you shared a connection after the fleeting experiences that had doubtlessly backed you against a wall.

“That’s not some damn lie. Look we can settle this, we’re reasonable men.” Joe reasoned with self interest and vengeance, his stone irises scouring languidly down your tense body from above, a little impressed that a woman had managed to withdraw the life of one of his boisterous comrades. His breath heaved down on you, making your skin crawl with distaste. And so he continued, making you all the more seasoned with spite. “First we’re gonna beat Daryl to death. Then your friend next to you. Then the other girl. Then the boy. And then we shoot you and then we’ll be square.” His maniacal laugh retorted in an echo, as his words truly sunk in. There had been enough devastation, and you viewed each of those you cared for with compassion.

Carl was writhing across the golden leaves that appeared gray beneath the silver moon, leaking from his tear ducts with agonising fear. Rick was stern with his demanding pleas that did nothing but resort humour into the audience that had you at gun point. Michonne was wide eyes and prepared for any intrusion that could occur, silently realising that you would be the culprit to begin a ravenous fight. And Daryl, god Daryl was swinging his arm back as much as he was able, losing against the two men that had the delight of using him as a punching bag. You couldn’t wait any longer, no one was on their way to save you, there was no other choice but try again, planning on a physical tactic this time.

“Let them go.” You hissed dangerously thro the your teeth, flickering your eyes around one last time, managing to make eye contact with Michonne, the gun against her braided head remind you that it was now or never. Joe felt hilarity from your demand, and you repeated it in an increased volume, distracting him with the sound of your voice before you threw your head back, whacking the man behind you with a mind numbing force. The bang of a bullet stirred a hazy cast across your field of vision, spiring a high pitched scream of white noise in your ears, but it was worth it. Joe had stumbled aback, the impact having arose a newfound course of adrenaline to fluster through your pumping veins.

With the rush that jolted you into a spiralling spree of sudden action, you span around, standing upon your two feet as you threw a heavy punch to your enemy’s tired face, a concerned look transpiring upon Rick’s face, as Daryl failed with unfortunate consequences to prevail in his hand to hand combat hustle. In return, you had earned a blow to the face, the force of Joe’s fist causing you to be upon the floor once again. “Oh it’s gonna be so much worse now.” To support his promise, his foot met with your ribs, causing a holler and a pained gasp to escape you; there would no doubt be a bruise left if you survived this assault.

Another slap brandished your face with a stinging hue, as you stumbled up, staggering slightly as you did your best to focus on winning this physical battle. “Come on, get up! Come on, let’s see whatcha got.” He was teasing you, drowning you with anger from the mockery he betrothed you with, as a red line ran pleasantly from his nose. “C’mere!” He growled, prompting you for more, and to see his blood spill was a divine gift, even as he breathed disgustedly against you as he grabbed you by the waist, holding you in front of his body. “What the hell you gonna do now slut?”

There was no possibility of escaping his grip with your form alone, he was a sturdy man, albeit an evil one, but he had you in his monstrous clutch. Your brain racked with a free flow of a matching immoral high ground, and thus you thought of the walkers, and how they took life. Your noggin tossed back in a flurry of monstrosity, your teeth gnashing until they pried formlessly upon his throat, the flesh running between each porcelain tooth as you found purchase in the skin, tugging with animosity, until the torn fragment of his body was pulled away, blood spattering in a revolted spray from your mouth.

The claimer gradually fell, pausing his team from their desolate nature of commanding death as their leader met his end, laying in a lifeless pile on the ground. Michonne and Rick pursued their captor’s, sweeping their lives away in a more sophisticated fashion than you had, and Daryl gained the upper hand from your repulsive distraction. As Rick fled from where he had knelt, he sprinted to pursue Carl’s release, as you remained still, shocked with your own tactile second nature. Your face was half covered in blood, like you were a young child whom had gotten into their mother’s makeup bag, but that wasn’t the reality. You shook, astounded with trauma.

Arms coiled around you, as Daryl held your crimson chin in his hand, looking lovingly at you despite the circumstances that had lead to your freedom. “Sunshine.” The term was distinctly ironic, but the cigarette husk that adorned his throat remained full of love. Since the outbreak you had all had to complete extensive steps to remain breathing, and your breath stuttered as you wanted nothing more than to bury your face in your archer’s chest, but he held your head up, as he dragged the red rag from his pocket, swiping across the stain that made the rag even redder. As you looked around yourself, you saw past the massacre and felt relief.

This was home; these people, especially the one right in front of you. His hand stroked roughly against your cheek as a long, heartfelt peck was planted upon your forehead. He had found you, in this sick world that had all of you lost. You smiled at him, resting your forehead against his as you shared a harmonious breath. “I’m just happy your alive Dixie.” You tried to uplift the mood, as did Rick and Michonne, as they fussed with care over Carl. Daryl couldn’t care less for the state that you were displayed in, he pulled you closer, unable to resist your lips. You shared a kiss, it was passionate and filled with circumstantial desperation, your hands pulled at his neck as you tried to get his face closer.

You could only move on from this happening, there was no dwelling. There was no guilt bore in your chest, those that tried ripping you apart deserved a worse fate, and you had only been fair since considering the consequences they had imposed on forcing you to experience. The Governor was the same, and so would the next foolish soul that failed the lengths that you would all go through to protect each other. You felt sick from the vehemence that had concurred from your body, but you had found more pieces of your familial puzzle, and you had every intention of finding the rest.

#daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon fic

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literaryvein-reblogs · 8 months ago

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Writing Notes: Caffeine

Caffeine - A mild alkaloid stimulant made by some plants.

Found in coffee beans, tea leaves, and cocoa beans; added to soft drinks, energy drinks, and energy bars; and sold in capsules and tablets as a dietary supplement.

A mild stimulant. It is used to temporarily relieve fatigue and increase mental alertness. Caffeine is added to some antihistamine drugs to help counteract the sleepiness they may cause. It is also added to over-the-counter headache remedies (e.g., Excedrin) and migraine headache drugs to enhance their painkilling effects. Under medical supervision, citrated caffeine (a prescription drug) is used to treat breathing problems in premature infants.

From the Italian word cafée, meaning "coffee", is naturally made by about 60 plants. The most familiar of these are coffee leaves and beans, tea leaves, kola nuts, yerba mate, guarana berries, and cacao (the source of chocolate). In plants, caffeine is a pesticide. Insects eating plants that contain caffeine become disabled or die.

It has no nutritional value. But there seem to be some benefits to regular caffeine consumption, despite conflicting research.

Effects on the Body

Increases heart rate

Temporarily increases blood pressure

Relaxes smooth muscle cells in the airways

Releases fatty acids and glycerol in the body for energy use

Easily crosses the blood-brain barrier and changes the level of neurotransmitters in the brain

Passes into breast milk

Caffeine is absorbed in the stomach.

Its effects are noticeable in about 15 minutes and usually last several hours.

However, there is a huge variation among people both in their sensitivity to caffeine and in how long it stays in their bodies.

Although the average time it takes half a dose of caffeine to be eliminated from the body is 3-4 hours, this time may extend to 6 hours in women taking oral contraceptives; much longer in pregnant women and in people with liver damage.

Many well-designed, well-documented studies show that caffeine makes people more alert, improves short-term memory, enhances the ability to concentrate, increases the individual’s capacity for physical work, and speeds up reaction time.

In habitual caffeine drinkers, caffeine achieves this by preventing the detrimental effects of withdrawal.

It does not boost functioning to above normal levels.

All of these effects are temporary.

Caffeine does not replace the need for rest or sleep.

Caffeine Withdrawal

Discontinuing caffeine among regular users can cause withdrawal symptoms. These can include:

Headaches (very common)

Irritability

Nausea

Fatigue

Sleepiness

Inability to concentrate

Mild depression

Caffeine withdrawal symptoms begin 12–24 hours after caffeine is stopped.

Withdrawal symptoms peak at around 48 hours, and can last up to 5 days.

Tapering caffeine use, for example cutting down on caffeine by the equivalent of half a cup of coffee (about 50 mg) a day, minimizes or eliminates withdrawal symptoms.

Caffeinism

People who consume more than 500 mg of caffeine a day—equivalent to about five cups of coffee—may develop a condition called caffeinism, though the threshold varies among individuals.

Produces unpleasant sensations, some of which are similar to withdrawal symptoms. Symptoms of Caffeine Overuse include:

Restlessness

Irritability

Nervousness

Anxiety

Muscle twitching

Headaches

Inability to fall asleep

A racing heart

Related Disorders

Severe overuse of caffeine can cause a number of related disorders, including:

Caffeine Intoxication—usually the result of taking caffeine pills (e.g., NoDoz), this condition causes mental changes, rambling thoughts and speech, irregular heartbeat, and other symptoms associated with overuse. In severe cases death can result from ventricular fibrillation (unsynchronized contractions of the ventricle of the heart).

Caffeine-Induced Anxiety Disorder—severe anxiety that interferes with daily social interactions and occurs after caffeine intoxication or heavy long-term use of caffeine.

Caffeine-Induced Sleep Disorder—an inability to sleep that is so great it requires medical/psychiatric attention and occurs after prolonged caffeine consumption.

Non-Specific Caffeine-Induced Disorder—disorders not listed that are attributable to either acute or long-term caffeine consumption.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Describing Food ⚜ Cocktails

#caffeine #writing notes #writeblr #dark academia #spilled ink #writers on tumblr #writing reference #literature #writing prompt #poets on tumblr #poetry #writing inspiration #writing ideas #coffee #tea #creative writing #fiction #giuseppe de nittis #writing resources

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andvys · 2 years ago

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I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 17

Warnings: angst, mentions of unrequited love, mentions of cheating, underaged drinking and drug consumption, break ups, mentions of injuries, mentions of pregnancy (it's just a joke)

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader, Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler, Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: You spend the night before your birthday with Steve and the same night, it takes a turn for him.

Word count: 9.5k

A/N: This chapter made me realize that my writing needs way more improvement, my words are too repetitive, please ignore. Also big shoutout to @hellfire--cult for throwing some really really amazing ideas at me, thank you, love. I appreciate you! @mysticmunson my angel, thank you for always helping me 🤍

series masterlist

You missed the warm nights, the transition from winter to spring and spring to summer, where every day it gets warmer and warmer. The sun gets brighter and the flowers adorn every field that you pass by.

It’s only the end of April but it’s already so warm, this night especially. The breeze you feel on your skin is one that reminds you of a chilly summer night.

Your eyes are closed, you are leaning back against the railing as you sit outside on your porch steps, waiting for him to come. A year or two ago, you would have waited for him in your room, you would have waited for him to climb through your window and surprise you with a present.

This year, everything is different.

You don’t want him to sneak into your room, that would only bring up painful memories again and you have had enough of those in the past few weeks, you know that seeing him tonight, will only make things worse. Still, you can’t help but feel excited to see him.

You shouldn’t feel this way, you really shouldn’t.

But you miss him, you miss what you used to have.

The sound of a car pulling up and the bright headlights make you open your eyes.

This feels so wrong. To let him back into your life so easily is such a huge mistake. You don’t know what prompted you to say yes to him when he asked you if he could come over the night before your birthday. Maybe it was the wish to uphold the tradition you have had since you were kids or maybe, it was your stupid heart that made you say yes.

You should have said yes to Eddie when he had asked if you wanted to see a movie with him tonight. You shouldn’t have said yes to him.

He gets out of the car and his eyes instantly lock with yours, his brows furrow, he is probably wondering why you are outside. There is something in his hand, you can’t make out what it is.

“Hey,” he says when he walks towards you.

You force a smile, to match the one on his face.

“Hi Steve.”

The gravel crunches beneath his nike’s and he looks down, breaking eye contact for a moment.

You eye him in curiosity.

Isn’t this weird?

To do this when he is with someone else?

Does she know where he is, right now?

He sits down opposite of you, leaning his back against the other railing. His breathing is a little unsteady and he clears his throat. The porch light is the only thing lighting up the area around you, it’s very dim but you still notice the flushed cheeks.

“How are you?” He asks, nervously.

Only as you hear the shakiness in his voice, do you realize just how nervous he actually is.

You don’t know this side of Steve – you don’t remember ever seeing this side of him. The Steve you once knew was always full of himself, confident, arrogant and cocky. Never nervous.

You haven’t talked to him in a while. The notes you have passed to each other in class don’t count.

“I’m okay,” you say as you pull your knees to your chest and wrap your arms around them, “how are you?”

He hesitates and his eyes stray away for a few seconds, he looks down at your hands, staring at your rings.

You notice the dark circles under his eyes and the way his features are etched with something that reminds you of something that you always used to see on your face whenever you looked at your reflection in the mirror, when he was seeing Nancy.

“I-I uh, I’m good.”

It’s a lie.

He usually used to avoid looking into your eyes whenever he lied to you.

“Are you?” You ask before you can stop the words from spilling.

When he looks up and you see his eyes again, you notice the frustration behind them. He wears the same look that you used to wear after every fight with him.

Did they fight? Did she make him cry the way he made you cry? Is that why his eyes are glassy and red rimmed?

He only nods.

“It’s almost midnight.”

“Yeah,” you whisper and hold eye contact.

You hate your birthday, god, you hate it so much. If you could, you would sleep the day away but you can’t.

“What’s that?” You ask, gesturing to the tiny box in his hand, the one he hasn’t let go of since he came here.

He hesitates when he follows your gaze and looks down at the object in his hand.

“Uh, it’s your birthday present.”

You raise your brows and you ignore the way your stomach flips at his words.

“Oh?”

He nods and then scoots closer to you but he doesn’t hand it to you yet. He still holds it tightly.

“What’s in there?”

A smile tugs at his lips, “never the patient one, are you?”

A breathy chuckle falls from your lips and you shake your head, “you know me.”

His eyes skim over your face, your soft features and the light in your eyes that never died, even after everything he had put you through, the light is still shining brightly even when you can’t see it.

“Yeah, I do,” he whispers.

He places his palm on the ground beside you, he is closer now, closer than he had been in a while. His nike’s bump against your black converse, his fingertips graze against yours and the urge to feel his whole hand on top of yours is so strong.

You look down, eying his knuckles, eyeing the scar. You know where it came from, you still ask, “what’s that?”

He furrows his brows at your question, then follows your gaze to see what you are looking at.

“Oh,” he mumbles.

“I know where you got it from but, how did it happen?”

You avoid his eyes this time. You never thanked him for what he did. It’s something that

Steve doesn’t even expect from you, it’s not something you have to thank him for.

He scratches the back of his neck, “uh well, apparently Ray is a fan of pocket knives,” he laughs.

Your eyes widen and you stare at him in shock as your heart leaps to your throat.

“What?” You gasp.

Eddie told you some things but you know that he left a lot of details out. He didn’t want you to worry.

Fear flashes in your features and you instinctively reach for his hand. The thought that something worse could have happened to him and to Eddie makes you feel so guilty.

“It’s fine,” he whispers.

The worry in your eyes makes his heart flutter in his chest.

You still care about him, you always will. He looks down at your hand, your touch is making his skin tingle and a smile tugs at his lips when he remembers all the times he was able to just take your hand and hold it without a second thought, without having to worry about anything, without having to feel guilty, without feeling like he’s doing some forbidden thing.

He can’t just hold your hand now, not anymore.

Not even when she – “No, it’s not! Something worse could’ve happened, Steve–”

“But it didn’t,” he says, interrupting you, “nothing happened to us. We’re fine. Please just, let’s drop this, y/n.”

“But–”

“No buts, I’m not here to talk about that asshole. What’s done is done, let’s leave it in the past, okay?”

Oh, how easy everything could be if that was possible.

You begrudgingly drop the subject when he keeps interrupting you, not wanting to talk about it. When you try to pull your hand away, he stops you and holds it tighter – you let him.

You lean your head back and take a good look at him. His hair has grown longer and there is a kindness in his eyes that had been missing in the last few months of your relationship. His touch feels more gentle, his presence makes you feel calm instead of anxious, he seems like the old Steve – the one who still loved you.

She brought him back, she did something that you could not do.

You weren’t good enough for that – he did not want to change for you.

“Does she know that you’re here?”

He tenses up a little and for a moment, he frowns.

“She wouldn’t care.”

What?

“She wouldn’t care that you’re spending time with your ex girlfriend?” You ask, confused.

“No,” he says, cringing at the word ‘ex girlfriend’.

You don’t believe it, you can’t believe it, especially not after the way she talked about you after he had dumped you for her. Clearly, she can’t stand you and the thought of her not having a problem with her boyfriend hanging out with you, just seems a little too weird to you.

You would have a problem with that.

“Okay,” you mumble under your breath.

“Is everything okay between the two of you?” You ask, still looking down to hide your eyeroll. You don’t really want to hear him talk about his relationship but, you can’t help but feel a little curious. You know that the pain in his eyes isn’t for nothing.

He hesitates and he tenses up, yet again. You feel it in his touch.

“Yeah.”

“I know when you’re lying,” you mumble, glancing up at him to see him looking away.

The chuckle that falls from his lips, isn’t one of amusement. He glances up at the darkening sky.

“I-I just, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“What do you mean?” You frown.

As he looks back into your eyes, he sees everything that he is looking for – everything that he can never find in her eyes.

“She is not you.”

For a moment, your heart stops beating, your blood stops pumping, the world stops spinning. Everything stops.

How can he say such a thing?

“She’s not the one that I want.”

How can he say this to you after he had told you that he fell in love with her? That he never loved you?

How can he say this when he looks so happy with her?

How can he say this when you had asked him to let you go?

“Steve.”

“I know,” he whispers, frowning at the ground, “I know, I’m sorry. I-I made a mistake and I will regret it for the rest of my life.”

You hate the way your heart flutters despite the pain it’s in, right now.

You hate the way you wonder about how things could’ve been if you never let him go so easily.

You hate the way you feel so little again, the way you just let his words get to you, the way they are able to make you feel sad instead of angry.

You feel like a fool again, the same fool who forgave him over and over again.

“We both did.” Those three words spill from your lips before you can stop them.

You feel stupid, you instantly feel so so stupid. You miss the anger, the coldness – the one that never let him back in.

He looks up, a bewildered look on his face as he stares at you in shock and confusion.

“What?”

“We both made mistakes.”

He shakes his head, you had never seen such a deep frown in his features, his lips are pursed as he tries to come up with words but he can only stare at you with a questioning look in his eyes.

You blink, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the nervous feeling that is building up more and more.

“I-I just,” you pause to take a deep breath, to give yourself the chance to say something that won’t ruin everything again but, something pushes you to say this, “I keep wondering how things could’ve been if I never let you go, how it would’ve been if I just fought for you.”

He whispers your name as he stares at you with eyes that soften the longer he looks at you.

“I-I never did, I just let you go. I keep thinking about that night at Tina’s party. You spilled that stupid red wine on you that you didn’t even like.”

Steve nods slowly. He feels the bitterness on his tongue, the taste of the sour wine still lingers when he thinks about how much he had drank from it to gain more courage, to make it easier to lie to you, to break your heart.

“You told me that you weren’t in love with me anymore and I just, I said ‘okay’ and then I left and that’s all.”

You look back at him with glossy eyes and a frown on your lips.

“Don’t put the blame on yourself,” he says in anger for himself, “I was the one who lied to you, I was the one who fucked up. Not you, y/n. Never you.”

“But–”

“No!” He shakes his head, “stop it, where’s this even coming from?”

You shrug and it only confuses him further.

“Would you have stayed with me if I didn’t let you go?” You ask, “if I fought for you?”

He feels ashamed, he feels guilty and so horrible.

“Yeah,” he whispers, “I would have stayed with you.” Because this is what he wanted. He wanted you to fight for him, he wanted you to make him stay.

You know that he is honest and it breaks your heart again.

“But you shouldn’t have, it wasn’t your job to fight for me. I should have fought for you. You should’ve been the one to leave, not me.”

“What?”

“I was a fucking asshole, y/n. I was an asshole to you, every day of our relationship, I kept fucking up, over and over again and you tolerated it, you never left me. You never got mad at me, you never said anything rude, you never did anything bad, you were – fuck, you were perfect, you are perfect,” he holds your hand tighter.

The tear that rolls down your cheek is quickly wiped away with his thumb.

“And I’m sorry, I am so fucking sorry for what I did to you.”

He hates the way your eyes continue to well up with tears. He hates the way your bottom lip quivers as you try to not break down. He hates the way you are still hurting because of him.

“Steve,” you whisper, not wanting to hear his apologies anymore.

He shakes his head, stubbornly.

“I’m not just saying sorry for leaving you, for choosing her over you. It’s not just that.”

You sniffle quietly and you press your knees to your chest. Your hand is still in his and you don’t make any moves to pull it away.

“I’m sorry that I acted like I wasn’t interested in the things you loved doing. I’m sorry that I didn’t show you how much I really loved you. I’m sorry that I didn’t hold you enough, that I didn’t kiss you the way you should have been kissed, that I didn’t take care of you.”

You start crying before you can stop yourself from doing so.

“I should have held you that night. God, I hate myself for what I did to you that night. You cried a-and I-I didn’t do anything, I just listened to you cry.”

You close your eyes when your vision blurs. Your heart drops to your stomach and a sick feeling rushes through you.

You didn’t know that he was awake, you always thought that he fell asleep before you broke down. But he was awake and he heard you. He was awake and he listened to your cries, he just listened and kept his back turned to you when you needed him to just fucking hold you.

Steve watches the tears rolling down your cheeks, one after the other.

Back then, he could’ve just pulled you into his arms. He could’ve hugged you, he could’ve held you but he never did – now he wants to so badly but now, he can’t.

He sees how much you are struggling, he sees how hurt you still are. All these months, he thought that you had moved on, that you had left him in the past, that you had forgotten about the pain. But he was so wrong about everything.

You have not moved on, you have not left him in the past and you especially, have not forgotten about the pain that he had put you through.

The girl he knew is still in there just like the boy you once knew is still in him.

You both changed but, you are also both still the same.

“I should have given you the locket,” he whispers as he turns your hand around and places the little box into your palm, “I shouldn’t have given you the fucking bracelet that you never wanted.”

To see you cry will always hurt. To know that he is to blame for your pain, will always make him hate himself. To see the way you look at him with so much sadness and still so much love in your eyes will always make his chest burn with regret.

Your brows are pulled together, your lips are parted and you look down at the box with big eyes.

You pull your hand away from his and you wipe your tears before you open it after a moment of hesitation. A tear drops on the beautiful locket that you have fallen in love with a year back.

A present that would have brought you joy back then, only makes you sad now.

He could’ve seen a smile on your face. He could’ve seen happiness in your eyes. He could’ve heard you squeal in excitement.

He could’ve.

You stare at it, a minute passes and then another, you stare at it in silence.

“I-I didn’t put anything in there,” he mumbles, pointing to the locket, “I know you always wanted a picture of us in there but uh – I figured you wouldn’t want that anymore.”

You take it out of the box, the heart shaped locket is engraved with little flowers – it’s beautiful. Despite the sadness and the anger that is buried deep somewhere, you smile.

It’s something that Steve did not expect. The thought of gifting you the little piece that you have wanted for so long after he left made him anxious, it was a last minute decision – this was not the gift he wanted to give you but it’s something that he found when he took his room apart while searching for a box to put the original gift in. This is what you wanted.

You wanted it for your last birthday but instead he put a bracelet around your wrist, one that you did not wish for. You still loved it, you still smiled brightly and stared at it as though it was the prettiest thing you had ever seen.

He bought the locket three days before he left you, he intended to give it to you after Halloween but it all went wrong.

Everything went wrong after that night.

He chose her and you chose to act like he didn’t exist anymore which is something he isn’t mad at anymore, you should have done worse.

You gave him the cold shoulder, the glares, the snarky replies whenever he talked to you, whether it was about the essay you had worked on together or something else. You were mean, dismissive and cold. It went on like that for two months until that night when you had parted ways after the party at Jimmy’s place. After that you just seemed unbothered by his presence, like he didn’t matter anymore.

Now you are showing him a side that he does not deserve to see – the vulnerable, loving side that he only got when you were still his.

He hates that you think that you should have fought for him. He never deserved it. He never deserved you.

He prefers it when you hate him – he deserves that more than your love.

You are silent for the longest time, just staring at the locket in your hand and he watches you with a bitter taste on his tongue and a deep sadness in his eyes.

“Thank you, Stevie.”

It’s been a long time since you called him that.

You lift your head and turn to look at him, your eyes meet and he smiles.

“You’re welcome, y/n.”

The smile that you give him makes him realize just how much he truly misses you.

He misses the sound of your giggle, he misses the way your eyes lit up when you saw him, he misses the way you would smile into the kisses, he misses the way it feels to hold you, he misses being with you. God, he misses you.

You look down and with a heavy sigh, you push yourself up, “I-I should go inside.”

The disappointment that rushes through him is deep, he doesn’t want this to end, he doesn’t want to say goodbye again, he doesn’t want to go back to a love that is forced.

“Yeah,” he breathes, getting up as well.

For a moment, you stand in front of each other, not moving, not looking away from one another. His hands itch for your touch and you long to feel his arms around you.

Should you tell him how much you miss him?

Should you hug him?

Should you tell him how he haunts you in your memories?

His hair looks soft beneath the dim porch light, his eyes even softer as he stares at you, his lips – stop. You curse at yourself for letting your mind go there. He is not yours, he belongs to someone else.

Steve sees the way you look at him; it’s still the same.

And that little moment is enough for him to make a decision.

“Goodbye,” you whisper.

He hesitates.

Once again, he finds himself here, not wanting to say goodbye to you.

“Goodbye.”

You tear your eyes away from him, you look down and walk towards your door. You lift your hand, reaching for the doorknob when you feel his fingers closing in around your wrist.

“Hey,” he says softly.

You’re met with a smile when you look back again.

“Happy birthday, dolly.”

A breathy chuckle falls from your lips and you smile, “thank you.”

Last year he would have kissed you.

This year he can’t even hug you.

You turn back around and he watches you hesitate, his hand is still holding your wrist and you turn to him once again. You let go of his hand and you lift the sleeve of your sweatshirt to show him something.

The dainty pearls around your wrist make his eyes widen.

“I love the bracelet, by the way,” you say with a smile before you walk into your house, leaving him standing on your porch.

The warmth in his stomach is only there because of you, because of the love you still got for him – and even if you had no love for him anymore, he would still feel it. You could break his heart into a million pieces and Steve Harrington would still love you more than anything else in this world.

He can push you out of his life, he can try to fall in love with someone else, he can replace you with another girl but no one will ever be you.

No one will ever make him feel the things that you make him feel. No one can make his heart race the way you do. No one can make him feel so safe and loved despite the distance, no one but you.

It’s always you, it’s always been you, it’ll always be you.

There is no point to be with someone he can never love the way he loves you. There is no point in being with someone who could never love him the way you loved him.

It’s all just pointless, everything that has happened since Halloween night is pointless.

His mind is filled with thoughts, ones that keep him so distracted that he doesn’t even notice that the light in his bedroom is on. Only when he steps into his room and he notices his girlfriend sitting on his bed, does he realize that he is not alone tonight, like he wanted to be.

He instantly notices the frown on her face, the crossed arms and a look of anger in her eyes.

“Nance,” he mumbles with furrowed brows, confused by her presence.

He takes a look around his room to find it a mess, messier than it was before. Books, clothes and notes are scattered all over the carpet, an open box lying on the floor, pictures of you and him spilling out of it. Your green scrunchie from cheer practice lying on the sweater that belongs to him, one that he had put into the box because it was basically yours, it smelled like you, it probably still does.

Realization floods through him, but there is no ounce of fear inside of him. He isn’t scared of what is about to happen.

Nancy is holding one of the many notes and she looks at him in disbelief, scoffing as she holds it up for him to see.

“I’ll throw it away later, huh?” She asks, mocking him.

He doesn’t have to take a closer look to know which note it is. It’s the one she found in his car a few months ago, the one he promised to throw away.

He doesn’t know what to say so he just stands there and looks at her, trying to figure out what she is feeling right now.

She is not hurt, he knows she isn’t, just angry.

Her eyes have strayed away from him just a few weeks after he left you for her. The moment Jonathan stepped into her life, her heart was no longer his, she gave it to her supposed new friend.

He saw the stolen glances, the lingering touches. He knew about the secret meetups, he knew about what she did when they had decided on taking a break. But, he never said anything, he never did anything about it. He tolerated it because he thought that he deserved it.

She did the same thing that he did to you, just so much worse. At least, he had never slept with anyone else, he had never kissed anyone else.

Everything that she did in the course of their relationship is something that he was afraid of you doing to him. He was stupid for even thinking that. You would never do that to him.

“I wish I could say that I’m surprised,” Nancy mumbles, throwing the note on the ground, “but I’m not.”

Nancy isn’t blind and she isn’t stupid either, she always knew where his mind was at when he was with her, when he kissed her, when he touched her, when he slept with her. He was thinking about you, all the time.

When she came over tonight, she didn’t expect to walk into an empty house or the mess that he had left in his room. She waited and waited and he didn’t come so she decided to keep herself busy. She began to clean his room, she organized his desk, dusted his furniture and put away his clean sweaters into the closet when she had found that box. Normally, she wouldn’t have opened it but curiosity got the best of her and now she feels relieved that she had done it, despite the sinking feeling in her stomach.

Steve is calm, that’s something he had never been when he had gotten into fights with you.

“Are you not gonna say anything?”

Steve walks further into the room, he looks down at the things that belong to you, the things that he should’ve never put away in the first place.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Nancy.”

She tilts her head as she looks up at him, “you lied to me.”

He nods. He lifts his hand and runs it through his hair.

“Yeah, I did,” he admits, “I lied to you.”

He lied when he said that he moved on from you. He lied when he told her that he loves her. He lied so many times and still, he tried to be good for her because he really wanted to try and be with her.

“Do you love her?” She asks, already knowing the answer.

Steve doesn’t even hesitate, he is done lying.

“Yes.”

Hurt flashes in her eyes and he doesn’t even understand why – he is not the one that she wants.

“Was it all just a lie then?” She asks, throwing her hands up.

He shakes his head. No. It wasn’t all a lie, only his feelings, they were a lie, his love for her, that was a lie.

He likes her, he always did. He liked spending time with her, he liked taking her out on dates, he liked studying with her and taking her to the movies afterwards but that’s all it was, he liked it.

“No.”

“God,” she breathes, “you’re so full of shit, Steve.”

Her eyes that held pain and disbelief are now filled with anger and rage.

“It wasn’t a lie?” She asks, stepping closer to him.

As he looks down at her, he notices that he isn’t scared of what she is about to say. He isn’t scared that the relationship will be ruined after what words will spill from her mouth. He isn’t scared of what he will feel once she’s gone because, even when she leaves, his heart won’t be broken.

No one can break his heart, no one but you.

“No, I really liked you, Nancy.”

She nods, her eyes widen and she purses her lips as she looks at him through her lashes- angrily.

“Liked,” she says with such distaste in her voice. She takes a look around the messy room, she takes a look at the things on the ground, your things. “This is such bullshit.”

Steve tenses up at her words, a cold shiver runs down his spine as he looks at her.

“Why did you – why did we even get together?”

He doesn’t know, he won’t be able to give her an answer, he doesn’t even have it himself.

“Why did you leave her when you clearly still loved her?” She asks, raising her voice as she begins to pace around his room, kicking away the book that once belonged to you, one that he never gave back. “Why did you lie to me and say that you didn’t love her?”

He closes his eyes and clenches his jaw.

“Why did you tell me that you love me when it was all bullshit?” Nancy asks and suddenly halts in her tracks when she realizes that she did just the same. She told him that she loved him when her heart was somewhere else. “You know what, this is all bullshit.”

“Nance,” Steve mumbles as he opens his eyes. He looks down at the ground. He can’t stand to hear these words again, it will always take him back to the night in your room, when he had almost kissed you, when he told you that he still loves you.

“No!”

She turns around to face him, she points her finger at him.

“Let’s not fight.” He raises his hands up, trying to get her to calm down. “I don’t–”

“This whole relationship was bullshit, Steve! W-We kept acting like we’re in love when we–”

“When we aren’t in love?” He asks calmly, eyeing her slumped shoulders and the defeat in her eyes when she realizes that there is no use to fight.

She doesn’t want to admit it, still worried about hurting him when she knows that no one could hurt him, no one but you. She looks at him, she takes in the sight of him. He is calm, even after what he found out a few days back.

Suddenly, Nancy feels like a hypocrite for doing this to him. For taking his room apart, for getting upset over your stuff in his closet, for confronting him like this, for yelling at him when she was the one who got caught kissing someone else – she got caught by him and unlike her, he didn’t get mad, he just accepted it and then acted like nothing happened.

Just like you always did.

“Where were you tonight?”

He doesn’t know why she is asking him that, they both know that this is the end.

“I was with y/n. Her birthday is tomorrow. We have always spent the night before together, ever since we were little kids.”

She raises her brows and nods, still feeling bitter about it, despite everything.

“And you?” He asks, tilting his head, “where have you been? I dropped by your house earlier tonight and you weren’t home. Where were you?”

Once again, she breaks eye contact, too ashamed to give him the real answer.

Steve can tell the truth now. She can’t.

But he is done with this, with everything.

He sighs and he walks closer to her.

Nancy crosses her arms over her chest, she bites down on her lip nervously.

She is struggling to tell him the truth but he wants her to know that it’s okay.

“Nancy, look at me.”

He takes her hand in his, ignoring the way it feels so wrong to hold hers after yours.

“Please.”

She looks up at him.

Blue eyes filled with guilt meet the warm hazel ones, the one filled with sadness but also with calmness.

“I know what happened with you and Jonathan, back in december,” he mumbles, trying not to roll his eyes.

“Steve..”

“It’s okay, Nance,” he whispers, squeezing her hand, “it’s okay.”

“You should be with him.”

Her brows snap together, her lips part in surprise. She blinks, staring up at him with confusion in her eyes.

“We’re not right for each other,” he whispers, “you love him and I love her – and I can’t be with her but you can be with him.”

Her eyes soften and the tension slowly leaves her body. She still feels guilty, for more than one reason.

“It’s enough if one of us is miserable,” Steve says, trying to crack a joke.

The smile on her face is forced.

“We both know that this isn’t working, Nance. We keep pretending, we keep lying to each other, we keep acting like we’re happy with each other when we’re not. This needs to stop.”

Her eyes well up with tears but she agrees with him.

“Yeah,” she whispers and slowly removes her hand from his.

“So this is it?” She asks, lifting one shoulder as she gives him a look of uncertainty.

“Yes,” he nods, “this is it.”

“Okay,” she whispers.

Both of them felt it coming. It’s been tense between them for weeks now, ever since the night you had called him.

When he and Eddie went after Ray and he walked out of the fight with injuries, with bruises on his temple and his knuckles, he had to lie to her to avoid the truth. She didn’t believe him when he said that a few guys from the basketball team had attacked him so she kept pressing him for answers, she wanted the truth, the truth that she never got.

To this day, she doesn’t know what really happened.

That put another dent into their relationship.

But her lies were so much bigger and crueler than his.

Still, he tried. He took her out on more dates than usual but both of them forced their happiness, their love and even their smiles. It was all forced.

A heavy sigh falls from her lips, she wipes away the tear that fell down her cheek.

“I-I guess I’m gonna go.”

He nods.

They both take one final look at each other. Both of them knew that this would happen but neither of them thought that it would happen this soon.

“I’ll drive you home.”

She shakes her head, “I took my mom’s car, didn’t you see it in the driveway?” She asks.

“Oh,” he scratches the back of his neck. He didn’t see it, he didn’t really notice anything, his mind was with you, “right.”

“Yeah, uh.. I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, see you around.”

The moment she leaves and he hears the front door slamming, he feels like a heavy weight has been lifted off his shoulders but at the same time, he feels this grief inside of him because he knows that now, he is truly all alone.

His parents are gone.

Tommy is gone.

You are gone.

And now, she is gone too and there is no one he can distract himself with anymore.

He is all on his own now.

He drops down on his bed and he looks at the mess in his room. He stares at your things. Something shiny that glistens beneath the light in his room catches his attention. He leans down to pick it up. It’s your hair pin, the one that you wore on your birthday last year.

He feels the coil in his throat, the sickening feeling when he thinks about what happened when he came back to you after he left you all alone on your birthday.

He drank at Tina’s party, he drank so much, he was miserable without you, he was angry at himself for the way he treated you, for the way he had been treating you for weeks prior to your birthday.

He didn’t party, he didn’t dance, he didn’t laugh, he didn’t even spend time with Tommy. He only drank until the bitter taste of whiskey made him feel sick and long for you. Without saying goodbye to his friends, he left and walked across town to your place.

It was 11pm by the time he got there, he sneaked into your room to find you in the same state as him. You were sitting on your floor with a half empty bottle of whiskey, you were crying and staring blankly at the TV screen.

“You gotta stop leaving your window open,” he said, startling you.

Your head snapped towards him, your glossy eyes widened and you instantly put the bottle down, you jumped up.

You stood there and stared at him with tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I-I always leave it open for you,” you said with a shaky voice.

It was his fault.

He hurt you on your birthday and he came over to fix it but he only made it worse.

He kissed you. He kissed you so deeply and passionately the way he had never usually done anymore. He took your clothes off and you helped him out of his, before you both made your way over to your bed.

He kissed all over your face, he kissed your neck, your chest.

He intertwined your fingers together.

He praised you.

He told you how much he loved you.

He made love to you that night – it was soft, sweet and perfect. And he didn’t realize just how much it was hurting you that he was doing that while he was drunk, while you were both drunk. That he was showing you a vulnerable and loving side after all the alcohol he consumed. That he was giving you something that he never gave you while sober.

He gave you everything in that moment and then, he took it all away again when he pushed you off of him after you tried to lay your head on his chest. He pushed you off and he didn’t bother to look at you, he didn’t bother to look at the shocked and hurt look in your eyes when he turned his back to you.

He pushed your hand off when you tried to hug him once again.

He pushed you away twice.

“Steve,” you whispered with a shaky voice. He knew you were on the verge of tears, he knew you were about to cry.

You touched his arm, softly, carefully.

“Don’t.” Is all he said to you as he shrugged your hand off.

He heard your sniffle and the rustling of the sheets as you pulled away from him. You turned away from him too and you waited, you waited until you thought that he had fallen asleep before you broke down again that night.

You tried to be quiet but you couldn’t, you cried.

You cried and he did nothing. He just laid there, blinking away his own tears as he looked out the window, asking himself why he couldn’t just hold you. He listened to you cry and he did nothing, not even when his mind was screaming at him to just turn around and pull you into his arms.

When your sniffles died down and he was sure that you had cried yourself to sleep, he did something that he couldn’t do while you were still awake.

He turned around and he wrapped his arm around you.

“Are you ever gonna tell me where you’re taking me?”

Eddie shakes his head, flashing you a smile.

“Nope.”

You chuckle and lean back, you look out the window.

Eddie doesn’t know what day it is and you feel relieved about it. You will forever continue to be dramatic about your birthday, you like to pretend that this day doesn’t exist – which is impossible considering your family and friends know about it.

“Are you hungry?” Eddie asks, “cause I’m hungry.”

You hesitate and Eddie narrows his eyes to look at you. You lean forward, turning the volume up when your favorite Metallica song comes on. He knows what you are trying to do.

“I ate earlier.”

“Ah, what did you eat, sweetheart?”

Birthday cake. Your mom made it.

“Toast.”

“That’s all?” He gasps.

“It’s only 6 in the evening!”

“Yeah and you only had breakfast!”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“Y/n,” he sighs.

“Eddie,” you sigh, giving him a sweet smile.

A look of disapproval crosses his face, he shakes his head at you.

“I’m gonna make you dinner.”

You snort when you look out the window. You are far from the trailer park and from your house. He picked you up in the afternoon and took you to the movies the way he wanted to the night before.

He didn’t ask what you did last night and he didn’t ask where you had gotten the necklace from, the one that is now around your neck.

He knows everything without having to ask and you don’t even know that he is aware of things that you are trying to keep a secret.

When Eddie pulls up to the quarry, you look at him in confusion, “uh the quarry?” You ask, “what are we doing here?”

You’d hung out at Lovers Lake, Skull rock, Lake Jordan and even at the hidden lake in the woods but you had never come out here.

As you look around, you wonder why you haven’t been here before. It’s quiet with no people around, it’s a beautiful spot to come out here whenever you need a moment to yourself.

The sun is shining down on the blue water, it looks good enough to jump in but it’s still not warm enough to take a swim.

“Well, it’s about time we find new hangout spots!” He says with a grin. He turns off the engine and it falls silent between the two of you when the music stops playing.

“Ready to get high, sweetheart?”

You chuckle, “yes.”

He gets out of the van and you follow suit. Smoothing down your dress, you reach for your jacket before you close the door.

Eddie walks around the van, bowing down before you, he offers you his hand.

Giggling, you shake your head as you place your hand in his.

“Dork.”

He gives you a proud smirk as he pulls you closer to him, he raises your hand towards his lips and places a kiss on your knuckles.

“Your dork,” he winks.

You can’t help but laugh, unaware of the blush on your cheeks.

“Definitely a dork,” you giggle, “a cute dork.”

Eddie wraps his arm around your shoulder, “come on.”

The confused look on your face makes him smile smugly. That smile should have been enough for you to know.

You look around, there is nothing but rocks, trees and the huge lake in front of you. Not a single bench in sight, nothing to sit down on but the hard concrete floor, “are we not gonna smoke in the back of your van?” You ask, “where are we supposed to sit?”

There is an innocent look on his face but his eyes are filled with mischief.

Maybe he does know about your birthday. Maybe he is mad at you for keeping it a secret. Maybe he is gonna push you into the water for not telling him – that thought makes you want to laugh. Eddie would never do that.

“You’re not gonna push me into the water are you?” You joke.

You can’t help but smile at the sound of his laughter and at the way his eyes shine so beautifully when he looks down at you. His curls aren’t as messy as they usually are, he is wearing a new shirt and a new cologne.

It makes your stomach flip – you don’t know why.

“You smell good.”

“Oh yeah?” He smirks despite the pounding in his chest.

You nod.

“New cologne?”

“Mhmm.”

“I like it.”

“You do, huh?”

“Yes,” you smile.

The look in his eyes suddenly makes you nervous, you have to look down to avoid the fluttering in your stomach.

He leads you down to the little bay, one that is surrounded by beautiful pine trees and a secret camping place. He smirks at the sight in front of him and glances down at you to see you still looking down at your shoes, just as you’re about to lift your head up, he grabs you and pulls you against him, holding both hands in front of your eyes.

“Eddie?” You ask, chuckling.

He leans his chin on your shoulder and pulls your hair back, “not gonna lie, I’m a little hurt you didn’t tell me.”

You frown, “w-what?”

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he whispers and removes his hands again to reveal his little surprise.

Your eyes widen, your jaw drops as you look around in confusion and surprise.

There is a campfire, logs surrounding it, a boombox perched on one of the tree trunks. Coolers and snacks, along with a birthday cake that Robin is holding up with a grin on her face.

Your friends are here, well, most of them.

Heather, Chrissy and Robin are standing next to each other looking at you in excitement. Gareth, Jeff and Grant are wearing party hats, the sight of them makes you giggle.

“Surprise!”

“Happy birthday!”

“Oh my god, are you kidding?” You laugh, clapping your hands together.

“Happy birthday!” Chrissy squeals, being the first to run towards you and pull you into a tight hug. “I’ve been waiting for this all day!”

You wrap your arms around her, “thank you, Chris,” you giggle, closing your eyes as you hug her back just as tight. Heather joins the two of you, hugging you from behind, she kisses your cheek.

“Happy birthday, babe,” she grins as though she hasn’t been the first to call this morning, pulling you out of your deep slumber.

“Can I join you girls?” Gareth asks, wiggling his brows at Heather who flips him off.

“No boys in a girls group hug,” Chrissy says to him.

“I can’t wait to give you my present, y/n!” Jeff grins as he is the next to hug you.

“What did you get her, Jeff?” Gareth asks, “a poster of Eddie?”

Grant bursts into laughter and so does Gareth, proud of his own joke.

Eddie rolls his eyes with a blush on his cheeks.

“C’mere, birthday girl!” Robin says to you, stealing you from Jeff, she kisses your cheek, “I can’t believe you thought that you could keep this from us!”

“I can’t believe you guys are throwing a party for me,” you say, blushing.

“That was Eddie’s idea,” she smiles, winking at you.

Huffing, you turn away from her to hide the flustered look on your face. Eddie stands there with a smile, watching you interact with your friends before your attention strays back to him and your soft eyes lock with his.

“Let’s party, guys!” Gareth claps his hands together, walking away from the group.

Grant walks over to the boom box to put on some music. Jeff gives Eddie a sheepish smile, “I’ll get the drinks.”

“I’ll help!” Heather says, following him.

That only leaves Robin and Chrissy who are still looking between you and Eddie before they look at one another. Robin smiles down at the blonde, “wanna help?” She asks, wanting to give the two of you some privacy.

Chrissy’s brows furrow, she stares up at the tall girl.

“With the drinks, I-I mean,” Robin mumbles.

“Oh!” Chrissy giggles, “yeah, let’s go.”

You and Eddie don’t notice the two blushing girls, you are too busy looking at each other.

“How did you know that it’s my birthday?”

“I asked your mom,” he responds, quirking a brow as he looks up at the sky, “like, back in december.”

Your eyes soften.

He asked your mom about your birthday?

“Eddie,” you whisper, unable to stop yourself from throwing your arms around him. You lay your head on his warm chest, “you are the sweetest.”

His chest rumbles as he laughs at your words, hugging you tightly.

“That title belongs to you.”

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you mumble into his chest, “not for me.”

Eddie frowns at your words and he squeezes your arms. There is nothing that he wouldn’t do for you.

“Sweetheart, you’re the only one I’d do this for,” he whispers before he places a kiss on the top of your head.

You lift your head up and you look into his eyes with a smile, “thank you, Eddie.”

“You’re welcome.” He tucks a loose strand behind your ear. “I got something for you.”

“More?” You ask surprised.

He chuckles, “yeah, come on,” he whispers.

You follow him without question, letting him lead you down to the water for a little more privacy.

The sound of music fills the air, drowning out the voice of the crickets and your friends chatter.

“You’re spoiling me today,” you giggle.

“Gotta spoil my best friend,” he winks at you before he takes both of your hands and turns you around so you’re both facing each other again. “I got a feeling that your friends won’t let me have a moment with you alone so,” he pauses as he lets go of one of your hands, he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a little bag, one that is in colorful wrapping paper, “you’re getting this now.”

“Another birthday present?”

“Of course,” he chuckles, “I’ve only been waiting for months to give it to you,” he says dramatically with an eyeroll.

“Months?” You gasp.

“Yeah, months!”

You giggle, looking down at the little present in your hands. You unwrap it quickly and eagerly.

Eddie laughs but watches you in anticipation.

You scrunch up the wrapping paper and push it into his hands, making him laugh again. He stuffs it back inside of his leather jacket.

You open the bag and gasp, “oh my god!” You squeal, jumping in excitement, “no way, Eddie!”

You reach for the ring. The skull ring that you have seen in the window at the Gothic shop that you passed by when you spent a weekend in Indianapolis, back in February.

“Where’s the other one?” You ask, knowing that it’s a set.

He grins at you, motioning you to put the ring on your finger before he picks the matching one out of his pocket, showing it to you. “I’ve been waiting to finally wear it!”

“Put it on!”

He chuckles at your excitement, unable to fight the grin off of his face, he puts the ring on his finger and holds his hand out to you.

“We’re matching!” You smile as you eye the ring on yours and his finger, “I love it so much, Eddie!”

“That makes me happy, sweetheart.”

He might not be able to give you expensive lockets or bracelets but, he still gets to make you smile and that is enough, for now.

You cup his cheeks and stand on your tiptoes to give him a kiss on his cheek.

His cheeks heat up at the feeling of your lips on his skin.

“Thank you,” you whisper again.

He can’t help but place a kiss on your cheek as well, making you giggle again. Neither of you notice the flash of the camera going off.

You are happy, you are smiling and this is all he wanted to see. He wanted to see you happy, especially tonight. After all your horrible birthdays, he wanted to give you one that you can look back on and smile instead of thinking of it with a heavy feeling in your chest.

So he tries to make it as memorable as possible so it may be able to put a shadow over all the bad ones that you have had.

And the night is perfect, this birthday is perfect.

You laugh with your friends, you share a joint and you get tipsy from all the mixed drinks. You make s’mores and listen to your favorite songs.

You unwrap the presents your friends had gotten you – including Dustin’s present who wasn’t allowed to this party. He of course got you a Hellfire shirt, the very persistent boy has been trying to get you to join their club for months now.

And when it’s time for your cake, you can’t help but giggle when the guys sing out of chorus.

“Who made this cake?” You ask after blowing out the candles.

“Uh, the store!” Robin says, sheepishly as she gives you a crooked grin.

“I tried baking one myself,” Eddie says next to you, “I almost ended up without a home.”

“Wait what?” You ask, laughing but holding your hand to your chest, giving him a pout. He even tried to bake a cake for you.

“I’m surprised you had a fire extinguisher at your place,” Robin jokes.

Eddie clutches his chest, giving her a glare, “I’m insulted, Buckley.”

“You could live with me,” you giggle, leaning your head on his shoulder.

He looks down at you with a smile while everyone else shares a look.

Chrissy, who has a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, looks at Robin, who sits back down next to Gareth. Feeling eyes on her, she lifts her head to catch the pretty cheerleader staring at her.

It’s dark out and the only light surrounding the group is the campfire. That is enough to make the red cheeks very visible, on both girls.

Jeff glances at the matching rings on yours and Eddie’s hands.

“Nice rings, why didn’t you invite us to the wedding?” He asks, wiggling his brows at the two of you.

“Did the invitation get lost in the mail?” Eddie chuckles, “sorry about that.”

Gareth gasps, clutching his beer tightly to his chest, “you’re not pregnant with a Munson baby, are you y/n?” He smirks.

You put your hand on your stomach, “oh yes, I’m having quadruplets!”

“Oh my god, y/n!” Heather snorts, “stop joking about it or you’re actually getting them someday!”

Eddie wraps his arm around your shoulder, “yeah so? We’re having our own band, the new Corroded Coffin.”

“No!” Grant almost yells.

You and Eddie laugh at his sudden outburst.

Chrissy and Robin fade out the conversation around them, their eyes are locked and the only sounds they hear is the crackling of the fire and their pounding hearts.

As they are unable to keep their eyes off of each other, you and Eddie are unable to move away from one another.

He puts a blanket around you when the night gets colder and you still scoot closer to him, reaching for his hand in search of more warmth and when he kisses the top of your head, a new pair of eyes catches sight of you with him.

Steve didn’t plan to show up at your party.

Despite how well things had gone between the two of you the night before, he still didn’t want to intrude, knowing that he isn’t welcome here.

But he wanted to see you, even if just from afar, he wanted to see you and make sure that you are having a nice time, that you are having a better birthday, a better night than you have had in the year before.

So, he showed up at your party.

But he did not expect to see you in Eddie’s arms – not like this.

He sees you smile and even though it breaks his heart to see you with him, he can walk away with a calm feeling in his chest because he gets to know that this night won't end for you in tears this time.

But for him, it does.

next chapter

tagging friends & mutuals!

@mysticmunson @taintedcigs @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @screammunson @take-everything-you-can @trashmouth-richie @xxhellfiregirlxx @nemesis729 @somethingvicked @sherrylyn628 @chrissymjstan

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #steve harrington imagine #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #stranger things angst

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darkmaga-returns · 1 month ago

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Story at-a-glance

Alzheimer's disease affects memory and cognition, with the number of cases globally expected to reach more than 150 million by 2050. The disease is primarily driven by inflammation, oxidative stress, and gut-brain dysfunction

Kefir consumption significantly improves memory and cognition in Alzheimer's patients by reducing amyloid plaques, tau tangles, and inflammatory markers while protecting neurons

C15:0, an essential fat found in grass fed dairy like kefir, protects against neurodegeneration by strengthening cell membranes, protecting mitochondria, and displacing harmful linoleic acid

Iron accumulation in the brain accelerates Alzheimer's progression through oxidative damage and ferroptosis; regular blood donation reduces iron overload

Daily strategies such as optimizing beneficial gut bacteria, eliminating vegetable oils from your diet, and avoiding gluten offer protection against cognitive decline and neurodegeneration

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seasgrimoire · 22 days ago

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My (not really) Guide to Herbs,

Every herb you hear about, learn about. All have specific and different properties that were used in many holistic approaches, and before medicine was easily accessible.

Learning the properties is very essential to even touching herbs. It's important to note that not every herb can be good for you. Disinformation is readily accessible with using the wrong image or name of an herb.

Foraging

Never. Forage. Without. Doing. Extensive. Research.

Pick up foraging books, take classes, ask foragers in your community, learn how to feel safe in the woods, and how to protect yourself. Foraging is VERY different than just buying herbs in stores or from trusted online shops. If someone tells you 'foraging is easier', it's because it's easier for them. That's their path, and if your path is just buying herbs from the dollar store, who cares. It's about accessibility in your practice.

Medicinal herbs

Yes, knowing how herbs are used in witchcraft is well, essential. But let's not forget some of the other properties it can have. Now, what exactly IS herbal medicine?

Medicinal herbs are plant-based products used to maintain health or prevent diseases. This can also be called herbal supplements, and these come in many different forms.

dried up

powder

chopped

capsule

liquid

But, how do I use them in these ways outside of spells?

Swallowing the pills, powder, or liquid

Brewing as tea

Used as skin gels, lotion, or cream

Bath water

CAUTION !!!!!

I am by no means someone who is in medical school. Please do your own further research into herbal supplements, especially if this is for consumption. If you ARE buying supplements, know that many of these are not looked at more thoroughly through the FDA because they are plants.

HERBS

Just a few of the common ones.

Chamomile (Flower)

Used to help with anxiety and relaxation.

Most commonly used in tea.

Garlic (Cloves, root)

Used to help fight germs, protect your heart, and reduce inflammation.

Most commonly used in cooking.

Ginger (Root)

Used to help easing nausea and motion sickness.

Most commonly used in cooking.

Lavender (shrub)

Used to help treating insect bites and burns, cleaning wounds, promoting sleep, improving memory, relieving pain, and uplifting mood.

Most commonly used in perfume, tea, and essential oil.

Rose Petals (flower)

Used to help digestion, contain pain relieving properties, and supporting a positive mood

Most commonly used in tea, skincare, bath soaks, face masks, candles, and cooking.

Kiwi Fruit Powder (fruit)

Used to help maintain a healthy skin tone, digestion, boosts immunity, and contains essential nutrients like vitamin C and potassium.

Most commonly used in cooking and drinks.

Okay, but why? is this important.

Many of us believe in the properties that herbs can have in spells and spirituality. It's also important to learn the other ways that these herbs you use in spirituality can have on your own body. Why not make a healing tea? A balm or lotion with protection and medicinal properties in it?

I don't believe in limiting my knowledge to only one use. If theres many uses to one thing, why not use it for two things at once? I'm having bad anxiety? Let me use Chamoile for that and Rosemary for protection. I'd be targeting the physical and spiritual manifestation that I think is something we dont ultize enough in witchcraft.

It's important (to me) that herbs can be used in your daily life to aid you in both ways, so why limit your knowledge to only one use?

#spiritual journey #witchblr #witchcraft #witch #paganblr #herbs #herbalism #herbal tea #paganism #pagan witch #pagan

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 2 years ago

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peppermint gum, m | jjk | savor...

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

It’s impossible to fall in love when you’re already in love. And Jeon Jungkook was in love. Helplessly. But what could he do? Time passed. The world became tasteless to his eyes. All he could do was hold onto the crisp and intense color of those memories, remember her words, and wonder where she was now. Savor, and burst forth.

this is part i | click here for part ii | total wc: 25.6k

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; this story contains parental child abuse - child neglect and abandonment; sloooow burn; mild alcohol consumption; hardcore pining JK; angst and fluff and feels; (in part ii) smut (fem reader, slight D/s dynamic, so much kissing, hair pulling, scratching / marking. grinding, choking, m-receiving oral, finger sucking, fingering, nipple play, m-masturbation, thigh riding, edging, penetrative sex, doggy, multiple orgasms); shifts back and forth between Jungkook’s POV and your POV; from lovers-to-strangers-to-lovers again :)

non-idol!AU; pining!Jungkook x noona!reader — ft JK's helpful? friends Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin; reader's close friend and talented guitarist, Kang Hyungu (ONEWE's Kanghyun if you want to see his appearance, hehe, same personality); JK has all his piercings and has hair (lol) had to be broken up into two parts bc it is 25k words, rip

“Aren’t you afraid that I’ll forget you?”

Those last words rang in his head, accompanied by her smile.

“Your mind might forget me, but the body always remembers.”

He wanted her to be wrong. But, of course, she wasn’t. Life wasn’t so kind. Life wasn’t so kind to give him a dramatic ending. Rather, it was a calm one of slow decay where he gradually learned to not miss her anymore. No ill feelings. Just helplessness. He had wanted her to be his morning, his afternoon, his night. She didn’t. He had been younger then. He had thought he could change what was already written.

She had done the right thing, actually.

Years past. The memories became a blur with everything else. Everyone else – between nights and bodies and the feeling of not quite right. Searching but not knowing what he was looking for so he cut them off just as he had been cut off. It hurt, of course, but not as much as it would have if he had let it drag on. Maybe that was what he had learned from that time.

He forgot to miss her.

But he still thought of her and wondered where she was now.

Tattoos, piercings, and countless hours at the gym later. Running. Life an endless loop despite the differences. Nowadays, he was making an effort to hang out with his friends more, not just for birthdays or online games, but socializing at in-person events that he still wasn’t very good at. Becoming older meant drifting apart since they didn’t have those common places to mingle in anymore, so it was important to put in the effort. If he wanted to improve in talking to people more casually, well, he should at least put himself in those opportunities, right?

Right.

Running.

Always running.

Sometimes, when he was in the dark surrounded by people and with just the right amount of alcohol in his system, he missed her terribly, but he couldn’t remember what standing next to her was even like.

Other times, he completely forgot she used to like this type of tea or that kind of snack. These details faded into the background, only to return to him in disorienting dreams and half-realities.

And most of the time, he forgot.

In between hands and lips and legs, he felt the rush. The exhilaration. Lust. He could make magic in the bedroom. Wasn’t that what it was all about? Wasn’t it all about the chase between two? Wasn’t love about strangers becoming forever-afters? Wasn’t it? He didn’t know anything about that when he was younger. Right. How could that be love?

Maybe.

Maybe he just forgot.

The spark always died so fast. It must have been not quite right.

She must have forgotten him too, by now.

When Jeon Jungkook saw her again, he hadn’t expected it at all.

It was at a nightclub concert. Loud and obnoxious and full of infectious energy. A friend of his was a singer of the band that was going onstage next. Currently, there was alternative rock band vibing with the crowd, singing songs that no one knew but spoke to feelings everyone understood. Breakup lyrics to sweetheart melodies. He was enjoying himself, but not paying much attention. In a split second, he had whipped his head around because one of his friends was playfully flicking the back of his hair, being an idiot, and then he saw her at the edge of the stage. Right there. He almost didn’t think it was her at first, but his eyes recognized that face right away, even amidst the chocolate smokey eye and cherry lip stain. He almost looked away, not wanting to stare at a now-stranger, but his body froze when she smiled, remembering the way his heart fluttered when those past-lover-now-stranger’s eyes sparkled with mischief when she smiled.

That couldn’t have been love, right?

He couldn’t remember.

Was she more beautiful than before or had helplessness desaturated his memory?

She was cheerfully speaking to someone. A young man who had cerulean hair. His undercut was dyed a gradient purple. Taller than her, with broad shoulders. Black t-shirt and tight jeans showing off a built body. He lingered near her the same way a cat stayed by its owner. She shook her head at him and said something. The man chuckled despite a demeanor full of nervousness. She handed him his purple electric guitar and pushed him, motioning him to interact with the band standing offstage. Oh, that was right. His singer friend had mentioned that their actual guitarist was out taking care of his grandmother. They had to call someone to fill in on short notice.

It was clear, by the instrument, that this was the fill in.

The young man trotted over to the band and introduced himself. He was meant with open arms and gracious bows that left him flustered and shaking his head.

Jeon Jungkook looked away, not wanting her to see him.

Would she know it was him?

He glanced at her again during the break for the band change. She was standing at the side, not too close to the wall but not too far. Could be noticed right away, because she was not drinking and because she was alone. Simply standing there. Almost regal even in a tight white crop top and hip-hugging black trousers. The thick black strap of her sling bag had a large plush keychain dangling by her waist. A tuxedo cat with a tangerine on its head. She didn’t seem bothered to be alone with no one to speak to. She also held onto a big, thick, black leather jacket. Folded and tucked in her arms. Could be hers.

Could also not be.

She was smiling in the direction of the substitute guitarist. Jungkook caught a shared gaze between them. She gave the man a thumbs up. He returned the smile, albeit awkwardly. A wordless exchange. Two people who knew each other very well. The lights dimmed. An announcement was made and cheers erupted around him.

But Jungkook was in the dark, surrounded by people, with not enough alcohol in his system to place the emotion he was feeling right now.

He looked to the stage as the spotlights returned to the stage, lighting up the band and his friend, but his mind held onto the image he had just now seen. Something about her makeup, with the striking eyeliner and black-cherry tinted lips. His own lips tingled, remembering the taste of a kiss from years ago.

A bright and refreshing flavor, so strong that it had seemed to last for hours after.

He was not self-centered or bitter enough to call her an ex-girlfriend. It had been a crisp and intense connection but, in retrospect, the time had been short. Fast and in a rush. The kind of love that made his skin prickle and his heart race. There had been no way to know how long it would last. There had been no comparison to realize that that love could be as fleeting as it was powerful.

A peppermint gum love.

Ah, what was he going on like this for? Maybe she didn’t want to be bothered. Maybe she wouldn’t want to see a ghost of her past. Maybe she didn’t even remember him. Jungkook knew he looked very different now. Back then, he had been a lot more worried about being presentable to everyone. Now, he was old enough to know he couldn’t and didn’t have to please everyone. He could wear loose clothes even if he worked out to look toned the way he wanted. He could get those lip piercings even if people told him eight ear piercings was already too many and adding two more on the right side of his lower lip was overdoing it. He could get a sleeve of colorfully dark tattoos and maybe consider getting more if he really wanted, even if some people found it tacky or not to their taste.

Well.

As long as he had the money for it, anyway.

He tried to discern how she was looking at the young man playing guitar, but Jungkook couldn’t figure out if it was the same expression that she had given him all those years before. He couldn’t remember.

His mind couldn’t remember.

But.

There was an interlude mid-act. He had made up his mind. He excused himself from his friends, mumbling the excuse of the bathroom. It was nerve-wracking to cut himself away from that safety. He didn’t have to do this. There was no ill feeling.

Just helplessness.

He moved through the crowd, winding between the people. Right there. There was so much noise. Conversations. Laughter. Drunken bickering. But all he could hear was silence. Bodies pushed up against him, bumping into him by accident, mumbling out apologies. But all he could feel was the suggestion of a touch, the faded peppermint gum love, grasping for a memory that he couldn’t seem to recall.

His finger tapped her shoulder.

He just wanted to know something.

“Do you still feel the same as you did back then?”

After the hey, how have you been, after the look of recognition and half-amused smile and the flutter of his heart, after the small talk of where are you now, he asked her the question. Those things were only the precursor. The filler and fluff. The pretense to the question that had been on his mind for a long, long time now.

“About what?” she asked, tilting her head curiously.

“I don’t know if you remember…” He didn’t either, actually. Remember her original words. “But you said that you didn’t think you could ever understand love. You said something like that to me a long time ago and I wonder… I wonder if that feeling has changed.”

He knew it was a strange question and yet.

He just…

Needed to know.

The shadows in her eyes became darker, impenetrable. “Sounds like something I’ve said. But, are you asking me because you think that feeling should have changed?”

He shook his head quickly. “No.” Looked at her head-on, unsure if this bravery was from alcohol or the question itself that had been lingering in his mind for so long. “I remembered what you said after all this time because…”

Hot and heavy, but ultimately forgettable nights.

Cold and bright.

Unable to last and, yet, lasted.

“Because I think now I am beginning to understand what you meant.”

There was a lot of noise around them, but he barely noticed. There was so much light, so many people around them, but this moment was a spotlight between him and the past cold brightness. The shadows in her eyes softened, no longer bristling thorns, fading into a dark forest of overlapping leaves. He couldn’t know, but he felt those eyes were different now. Darker. More decisive. And yet, in some ways she hadn’t changed at all. One of the things that he had always liked about her back then was that she always answered him seriously and wisely even if the question seemed out of the blue.

They always had an inexplicable closeness, even as strangers.

She was even more beautiful and more attractive than he remembered though.

“I lied,” she admitted with a half-smile. Was that a sparkle of mischief in her irises or was he seeing things? “I remember what I said to you. It had upset you a lot, I remember, when I said I didn’t understand love. You cried. It must have hurt you, but I couldn’t understand why back then. Back then, I said I didn’t understand love because I both didn’t want to learn and couldn’t feel it. Only the latter is true now. Or, rather, I don’t think I feel the same things that other people feel when they are with the people they love. But why do you say you’re beginning to understand that I meant?”

His body remembered the feeling of her hand on his shoulder. Now, their relations weren’t close enough for her to touch him. He didn’t remember crying but he wasn’t surprised to be told that he did. When he was younger, he had been a bit of a crybaby. Just because he didn’t recall didn’t mean it didn’t happen.

But.

His heart could still feel that deep scratch of those familiar words, even now.

“When I met you back then… I thought I knew everything about love. Love was for good people. I wanted to be a good person so I could be loved. All I had to do was become the person that people wanted to love. But then I realized I wasn’t doing the things I wanted to do, only what was expected of me. Then you told me you didn’t understand love and I, someone who wanted to be loved by you, realized I had nothing to fall back on because I was only made of others’ expectations and ideals.”

He shook his head. He did remember crying after they parted. He remembered trying to make the sadness go away. He remembered nights in beds and stumbling home to cry in the shower, feeling disconnected in the physical connection. He remembered nights alone, empty bottles and holding a shot glass of tears, feeling unable to speak about this to anyone. Lost without knowing how to be found. Doing things based on impulse because only impulses were truly his and not poisoned by the opinions of others. Laughing at the search of happiness. Above all, he had been afraid. He had been afraid to give voice to his worries because then maybe they would gain power and overtake him.

But then he remembered the person who didn’t understand love.

There was such a person that existed out there.

He wondered how she was now.

“I wanted to tell you…”

And now he knew.

“I wanted to tell you I understand now. Or… don’t. Um.”

She smiled at him.

It was not the same way as she looked at the guitarist.

“Huh, you’ve become so mature and grown up. Well, welcome to the smoke-and-mirrors of adulthood, Jeon Jungkook,” she chuckled teasingly, shaking her head. “I scarred you that bad, eh?”

“No, I didn’t mean–”

She raised a hand to stop him, waving away his apology. “No, it’s okay. I’m surprised you still remember me. And don’t hate me. A lot of them hate me.”

Your mind might forget me, but the body always remembers.

His body did remember.

“A lot of them?” he echoed, a muscle in his jaw tightening.

The faintest tick of her eyebrow. “You gonna tell me you have all these tattoos and piercings and don’t get laid?”

His heart dropped. “You don’t like them?” He blurted that a little too fast.

She laughed. “My opinion of them doesn’t really matter.”

“Yes, it does,” was his quick reply.

She paused. The shadows in her eyes swirled. He tried to discern their meaning as he stared into those dark irises but the shadows were all evasive and clever, flitting away from him playfully. When she spoke again, there was a sternness to her tone. Not scolding him. Just getting her point across.

“Answer the question of whether or not you get laid.”

Hot and heavy nights that meant nothing compared to the cold and bright scratch on his heart.

“I…”

The tips of his ears suddenly burned but maybe it was the alcohol.

“I do. But I haven’t remembered or been bothered to remember a single thing they’ve said to me,” Jungkook heard himself say and wondered where that bravery came from.

She didn’t say anything for a moment.

Then she smiled in the way that made him shiver.

“Hyungu is gonna be pissed,” she laughed as the sound of a guitar riff pierced the air.

Oh, shit.

The spotlight faded.

Everything rushed back. Sound, color, light. It suddenly became very clear that he was too far and too long gone from his friends to go back now and face them. Jungkook spun around, seeing that the crowd had packed up tightly again. To his dismay, he had no idea where his friends were. They were no longer in that little pocket they had been. Did they get closer to the stage? Had they seen where he had gone? Did one of them text him? He was afraid to pull out his phone, both in rudeness and in the possible mortifying teasing. His phone was always on silent, at least. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

He turned back.

The melody echoing behind him was sharp and bright chords followed by a soulful voice.

She had been looking at the stage but immediately caught his gaze with a surprised expression. As if she hadn’t expected him to stay once the music started. And he shouldn’t, for it was rude and intrusive and inconsiderate to stay and invade a stranger’s space any longer.

But.

“You didn’t give me an answer.”

She blinked at him. “What?”

He pulled up the sleeve of his charcoal hoodie, revealing more of his tattoos. Her eyes tracked the movement, widening in surprise at the burst of color combined with thick black outlines. She had been able to see some of them, as his sleeves had been pushed up slightly, but it was much more obvious with the cuffs to the elbows. His forearm was covered with ink and there was no sign of stopping past the black patch in his inner elbow.

He looked back at her.

For a moment, they were young again.

Haloed by music, immersed in each other. A movie in real life. Suddenly it felt worth it – worth taking the risk of being rude, intrusive, or inconsiderate. Suddenly, it felt worth rolling the die and betting double just to…

Have a taste of that peppermint flavor.

“Yes or no?” he insisted, frowning, stubbornly pushing for an answer.

Deep down, Jungkook had always hoped she was thriving, shining brighter than all the stars, because then it proved that he, someone who also felt like he didn’t understand love, could be as impactful as that sparkling smile.

The corner of her lips ticked up in amusement. “Does a stranger’s opinion matter that much? I thought you weren’t going to let the opinions of others bother you anymore.”

Are we really strangers?

He grinned. “A stranger’s opinion would be the most unbiased, right?”

Can strangers speak like the way you and I do?

She stared at him for seconds that felt like forever-ever-afters.

Then she laughed, reaching up with a graceful hand and touching her fingertips to her forehead. His breath caught his throat, suddenly flooded with memories of youth and rashness, short as it was. He could see it all in a whirlwind. Crystal clear and fleeting all at once. A perfect storm and now caught in the eye, all of his wonders and helplessness thrown to the wayside upon seeing this familiar gesture that he didn’t even know until now was familiar, realizing now just how precious it was.

She lowered her hand with a mirthful and sparkling expression.

Beckoned with a downward wave as the music swelled, dangerously close to melting into the bridge.

“Step closer. You’re in someone’s way.”

Jungkook jolted, stumbling, realizing there was a short woman with carrying three full cups of foamy, honey-colored beer looking confusedly at him.

“Oh, shit, sorry–”

Her hand touched his shoulder, directing him gently.

His body moved but his mind froze at the touch.

“Listen. This is my favorite part. I’ll tell you after.”

One moment, there was space between them.

The next, he was standing next to her.

She tapped the air, closing her eyes.

“Listen.”

He closed his eyes obediently. Took away the visual, and suddenly his world was flooded with the auditory. An intricate guitar solo to bring life to his fluttering heart blending with piano and drums flowing together. Memories flashing past, too fast to grasp onto, happiness and misery, and then the bridge came, the lyrics painting the photo of two colorless roses abandoned by the heavens.

He opened his eyes and looked at her.

Her eyes opened at the final chorus, exhaling softly. Turned her head and he could see in the shadows of her gaze that she, too, remembered their minty whirlwind of memories.

Or…

Was he just hoping for that?

She smiled.

“I love your tattoos and piercings. You suit them well. I’m glad you found your own color, Jeon Jungkook. You shine so much brighter now than you did back then.”

It was at this moment that he knew...

He fucked up.

He shouldn’t have walked over here. He shouldn’t have asked the question. He shouldn’t have stayed and continued the conversation. He shouldn’t have asked if she liked how he looked now. He should have stayed with his friends and wondered. He should have preserved in the hot and heavy instead of searching for the past of crisp and bright. He might get used to it. He might end up finding what he was looking for, whatever it was. Or, better yet, he might just forget this whole feeling and her lasting words if he never saw her smile as she spoke to him again.

But he didn’t, so that meant he really fucked up.

Pit-a-pat.

He stared at her for so long that he didn’t realize he hadn’t said anything in reply until the song ended and her expression changed, tilting her head in puzzlement. She thinks I’m insane. Say something, Jungkook! Anything! But nothing was coming to mind, as how it always was in these situations. Awesome.

“Uh…”

She smoothly interrupted his awkwardness. “Did you come with friends?” Expression neutral. “I would hate to keep you from your company for too long.”

The notable shift from more casual to formal slightly stung.

No.

Really stung.

“I… Well, honestly, I don’t know where they are,” Jungkook confessed, scanning the crowd for a moment in attempt to look for them. It was a half-assed attempt, but it was an attempt. “I think I’ll have to look for them after the show. We’re meeting up with the band to eat, I think.”

“Oh? You know them?”

He pointed awkwardly to the stage. “Ah, yeah, the lead singer… We met in high school and are in the same friend group… Well, I’ve only recently started hanging out outside again. We’ve played a lot of online games together.”

“Oh, really?” She looked back up to the stage. “In that case, do you think your friends would mind if Hyungu tagged along?” A cautious smile. “It’s just… Hyungu-ah is in a band too, but they’re on hiatus right now. A few of them are doing military service. I think he really misses that environment. I can’t really talk music with him though, I don’t know anything,” she added ruefully, shaking her head and scrunching her nose. “Sorry, that’s probably a bit much to ask you after seeing you all this time. I’m just worried about that introvert, haha.”

Oh, right. The substitute guitarist. Right, because she didn’t simply magically appear as an act of fate or red string level of storytelling in a drama. Real life wasn’t like that.

“S-Sure, we can all go together–”

She was asking him to suggest or go along with the proposition to not alienate the guy. It was clear that she cared about him. He didn’t want to see them together, but… If she became part of his friend group, he might have a reason to go out more. Maybe he was a masochist. Maybe he just wanted to see if she was happy with that guy. Maybe he…

Okay, he wanted her to be close, even if it was all futile.

She relaxed. “Ah, phew. It really did take me a while to convince him to get out of the house,” she chuckled. “It’ll be nice for him to be around people that understand his true language of music, haha. I’ll stick around just in case, but don’t worry, I’ll leave and let you guys be guys, heh.”

Wait.

What?

Jungkook blinked rapidly. “Huh? Aren’t you coming too?”

She stared back. “Huh? Why?”

He looked at her and she looked at him.

Both blank stares of confusion.

“Why wouldn’t you go with your boyfriend?” he blurted.

Invisible question marks popped up over her head. Then she jolted and jerked her head to the band, to the blue-haired guitarist tearing it up on stage with a grin, then back at Jungkook, her eyes wide. “Me? Me?” She pointed to herself quickly, half-laughing in disbelief. “Me and Kang Hyungu?”

Jungkook gawked.

She burst out laughing.

“Oh, fuck, no, no, no,” she puffed, waving her hand all over. “No, no, he’s not… Oh, sheesh, no, we’re not dating. You thought… hah, sorry, there’s a misunderstanding here, hahaha…” She flicked her hand downward as if that idea was so ridiculous that it needed to be physically slapped out of existence. “Ah, no, how can I explain…”

Huh?

Wait, didn’t she mention earlier that his Kang Hyungu was going to be angry? She did directly say, Hyungu is gonna be pissed, right after Jungkook had told her he never bothered to remember what other girls told him, which would imply… argh, this was very baffling and Jungkook found his scatterbrained thoughts spinning trying to comprehend it all.

She straightened and ticked her head to the stage. “Me and him are just friends. We’ve been friends are a long time. Sorry, I can see why you’re mistaken since I came here with him, but Hyungu-ah is the type that really doesn’t like new situations. When he got asked to fill in for another band, he wanted me to come with him, since he wouldn’t know anybody. I believe he said he only spoke to these guys a couple times at festivals and he just needed some moral support.” She grinned. “Ya know, a tough cookie in case things get tough, hehe.”

Jungkook understood but also he was confused. “O… Oh…”

She motioned away his doubts. “In his words, you’re scary, noona. I’d feel much better if you came with me. Can you believe this guy? Just admit you’re lonely.” She rolled her eyes. “Hyungu-ah is a guitar genius. He’s a music nerd. I’ve known him since…” She paused, a dark shadow casting over her eyes as she recalled the past. “I was asked to tutor him when he was in high school and I was finishing university. He was shit at math and science. I helped him pass and then I…”

And again.

That pause.

Jungkook got the feeling she wasn’t sure if she wanted to tell him or not.

She shrugged. “I moved away. Then I saw his name on a poster. Turns out this nerd made his dream a reality and started that band after all.” Her expression became fond. Gentle. “I went to go see him perform. I was surprised he recognized me, actually. Hah, kinda like–”

Her gaze shifted to him.

It was as if time stopped.

She continued, clearing her throat. “Anyway, I’m not dating anyone. Definitely not Hyungu. He’s more like a little brother to me. Or I’m more like a bodyguard, heh. With only intimidation tactics. I really should work out, huh…”

He frowned. “Have you talked about him before? I would have remembered someone so important to you.”

“Nah, I think you and me was after university. When I was being a slu–” She cut herself off. “Ahem, I mean, I was young and didn’t really want to deal with, well, anything. Running from myself, so to speak.” She sighed. A little heavy. “I meant to say sorry, back then. You got caught up with my madness.”

She winked.

Jungkook felt his heart skip a beat.

“But, hey, you dodged a bullet, eh?”

He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. That burst between them wasn’t there anymore.

Right?

Wrong.

He grinned.

“Nah, I’m bulletproof.”

Something about her.

Do you feel it too?

Her gaze sharpened and she stilled, mischief sparkling in her eyes.

“Oh, yeah?”

Well.

Can’t say you expected the events of tonight to be on this year’s bingo card.

You laid in bed and scrolled through your phone, but you didn’t pay much attention to anything on the screen. On one hand, you felt a little restless leaving Kang Hyungu to fend for himself with his low alcohol tolerance. On another hand, he was a grown man and would call you in the middle of the night to pick him up if he was really fucked up. Eh, he was too much of a good boy to be irresponsible.

You chuckled to no one in particular.

You were alone, after all.

It was a miracle, really, that little Hyungu still wanted to be your friend now.

In some ways, he was still the same kid you had met all those years ago. You didn’t really interact with him much as you were a couple years older and, well, a girl. You couldn’t really look at him either, all things considering. After all, wasn’t it highly probable that the bags under his eyes was your family’s fault? Your family and his family happened to be next-door neighbors at the apartment complex.

No one really talked about it.

In certain areas, the sounds of yelling and thrown dishes were simply background noise. Normal circumstances. The first near two decades of your life was that every day. Most of the time, your presence was as insignificant as a cockroach. Sometimes you would be spoken of but never spoken to. You learned from a pretty young age to shut up or be forced to shut up. The family motto was, children are not meant to be seen or heard. The adults were speaking. More accurately, arguing, escalating to screaming, and then to scalding silent treatment. Repeat cycle. You learned to snatch food from the fridge as soon as you saw it. No one was going to prepare anything for you, but at least there was always something edible in there.

Until you became a teenager, that was.

It got especially bad when you attended high school as both sides picked up hideous habits to deal with their issues. In your opinion, they should have picked divorce to deal with them, but instead they chose gambling and serial cheating. Sometimes neither would come home for days. Whenever they crossed paths, the endless war continued. There was no way to predict when the silence could become suddenly violate and now you were old enough to understand what was going on – and old enough to loathe it. You barely saw your next-door neighbors at that time because you did basically anything you could to avoid going home. There was only so much a child can take.

They either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

It was also about this time that you started using sex as a coping mechanism.

Approval by society wasn’t high on the list for you at that time, nor was it now. Must have been the upbringing. You watched alcohol become an expensive addiction for your parents and, paired with their mindless days at the casinos and excess spending on extramarital pleasures, illegal drugs were out of the question. Sex, however. If you knew what clinics to go to or where to shoplift, well. Free protection. Yup. During university, though, was when you needed money. You couldn’t go far as you couldn’t pay to live in a dorm. Your scholarships were barely covering tuition, so living at home was the only option. At this point, your parents had mostly forgot that there was someone they birthed living in the apartment with them, which was fine by you, except when you needed to eat.

How Kang Hyungu knew things he shouldn’t know was a mystery you never figured out.

You had gotten locked out, again, and some loud dispute was happening behind the door. Deadbolted. It was shaping up to be a shit night – that was until a tall high schooler with a guitar bag approached the door to your right. You tried not to look at him and decided you would leave to find a PC bang to spend the night. But he must have seen your university-branded bag and called out your family name.

That was when Kang Hyungu started talking to you.

He must have noticed the many times that you had been locked out. Well, how could he ignore it? You didn’t want to do the small talk thing except for immediately informing him with your given name. However, your ears perked up when he mentioned that he needed help with math and science classes. He was looking to pay a tutor. Cram school was pretty expensive. Turns out you both had attended the same high school – of course, considering you lived in the same damn apartment building – and the high school posted notices about alumni that had received scholarships. That shit was a big deal to educators.

That was how you ended up in a basement studio room listening to five high schoolers make songs for hours and teaching them calculus, biology, and chemistry. All of them ended up being mild levels of garbage at those subjects, but it made teaching in a group much more efficient. It was thanks to Hyungu that you were able to eat all of university. Honestly, you didn’t really need the money as much as you needed somewhere to be. Yeah, it was pretty clear that Hyungu knew that somehow. He was a lot more observant than you gave him credit for. Neither of you really talked about it even though you should have.

Maybe, then…

When you graduated university, it was clear you had to leave. It was clear you had to put some distance between you and those who birthed you. Turns out, they did it for you, because one day you came home from job hunting and you didn’t have a home anymore. The apartment door was open and some random people were moving in. Cool. A talk with the leasing office, then. Turns out your parents moved out and didn’t bother to tell you. Together? Separately? Who the fuck knew. You found a box of your clothes in the dumpster along with some other random shit. Your birth certificate, even.

Your entire existence thrown in the trash.

It had really not been the best time.

Couple months of living strictly from PC bangs and business hotel rooms, you started a desk job at minimum wage. Funny how a degree didn’t do much but whatever. You also continued your not-so-great coping mechanism of fucking around, which is how you met Jeon Jungkook. He definitely had a different idea of how it all went down, but.

You paused, seeing that you had pulled up your phone contacts and there he was.

Even through changed models, your phone contacts transferred over. You never bothered to clear them out unless the person was worth blocking. Jeon Jungkook wasn’t worth blocking. The breakup, if you could call it that, was pretty simple. You said what you said and he didn’t fight you. You didn’t need his number in the years after, but you forgot about thinking you needed to delete unused numbers. You didn’t really forget him, though.

He was the only one that you felt sorry for breaking his heart.

He hadn’t been your type back then. Your type had been self-destructive, and you had become tired of that, so you chased for the complete opposite instead. You knew full well that it wasn’t going to work out. You didn’t even go into it invested. But you chose well, and he was the complete opposite. He trusted everything you said. He put up with your cold front. He liked you more than you liked him and he had no idea that he did. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised that he wouldn’t care even if he knew. He was good in bed too. Eager, quick to learn, and listened to everything you said. Tried everything you asked without questioning or judging. It was precisely why you broke it off before it got too deep, because it got too deep way too fast.

He thought of you too highly when, at that time, you were too low to be anything above a grey area.

Aren’t you afraid I’ll forget you?

Just by asking you that, you never forgot Jungkook. He was the only one who seemed worried about that. Everyone else called you a heartless bitch or a dumb whore who was making a mistake. But Jungkook asked you if you were afraid that he would lose your memory, as if it was valuable enough to be tarnished.

Life worked in mysterious ways.

The happening of you seeing Hyungu’s name on a poster was by chance. The choice to go to that concert back then was on a whim. The chance of Hyungu recognizing you and coming to find you, dragging you to his bandmates that all yapped excitedly around you as if no time had passed was surprising. You had always thought they had forgotten or resented you on some level. After all, you didn’t have a working phone for a while since you couldn’t pay for a plan. You had essentially ghosted them for years, but Hyungu acted as if you had always been there. I’ll never forget that you took good care of me, noona. There was no way you could even attempt to date Kang Hyungu. How could you ruin a relationship that he kept preserved so preciously when you abandoned it? He spoke highly of you even when you hadn’t been around, even when you had been too busy being selfish and self-centered. He smiled at you and relied on you once again because he trusted that you could be relied on. You would sigh and be hauled around by these young loons and support their blooming music career as you got your footing and made it to a better desk job with better pay.

And, by some fate, being close to Kang Hyungu caused you to cross paths with Jeon Jungkook once again.

Weird, eh?

You lowered your phone, staring up at the ceiling.

Well, life was full of coincidences, right? There was no reason to think this was a special event. After all, you had been trying your best to forget that time in your life where you felt the most lost. It took a lot of pushing past your own stubbornness to realize that how your parents felt about you had nothing to do who you were. Accepting that you weren’t the worst fuckup ever to exist, thanks to the saving grace of someone who remembered to call you noona in an endearing way and not in an obligated way. It would be counterproductive to…

Jeon Jungkook’s smiling face flashed in your mind.

You only had one orb-shaped lamp on currently. It was one of those that you could set the lighting color and tone to your taste. You liked the low, moody, cool blue lighting. Besides, you knew the layout of your apartment by now, and the overhead lighting wasn’t necessary unless you needed to look for something.

The orb shone like the moon.

Jungkook had known such a different version of you and yet he still smiled at you like that.

“You must have somebody, don’t you?” you sighed to the shining moon.

It was silly to think too much about a random conversation. And, really, all he wanted to know was if you still found him hot or whatever. Yeah, he was just looking for external validation. You just happened to be there. Tattoos and piercings and working out? Sounded like a quarter life crisis to you. One that worked out in his favor, though. Your skin prickled with goosebumps, but it wasn’t from a tangible cold.

In the darkness, the moon-shaped light glowed brightly.

“It would be nice if you had somebody.”

You frowned and turned your back to the light.

It was a coincidence. Another moment of going through life and realizing you had been climbing Penrose stairs all along. How different were you from back then, really? It wasn’t as if you magically started getting into relationships and had a damn epiphany. The cruel epiphany was that we were all stuck in this endless loop of our respective pasts catching up to the present. No amount of heat could dissipate the coldness of the future.

You sighed, melting into the comfort of your cool bedsheets.

“I should just forget about Jeon Jungkook,” you mumbled.

Whatever.

Wasn’t like you were ever gonna see him again.

You dozed off.

Your phone vibrated against your chest.

“You idiot, you know you have no tolerance…”

“Noona, it was so fun, ahahaha…”

The air was cold. The sting of winter clung to his cheeks. He called out her name, feeling like the sound was drowned out by the cars and white noise in his head, but, once again, Jeon Jungkook completely forgot how loud he was.

Passersby jumped as he ran past clutching a guitar bag.

Her arms were wrapped around a blue-haired man who was dwarfing her frame. He looked half-asleep and too proud of himself but that was probably under the influence of alcohol and good vibes. She jolted, startled, her eyes widening as Jungkook skidded to a questionably close stop in front of them, nearly colliding into her.

In fact, he did.

“Woah!”

“Yah!”

He threw an arm out and around them, snapping back to hold the three of them up, pressing the guitar bag to her chest. There they were, a bundle of people who somehow ended up like this with a guitar cuddled between them, standing in the middle of the sidewalk at midnight with nightlife bystanders staring at them like they were all insane. At least Kang Hyungu was completely oblivious. Come to find out during dinner, he had low alcohol tolerance. Less than a soju bottle low. Welp. Nobody had believed him and he had given in a bit. At least he had the backup plan of a close friend picking him up. The group of guys had all stayed at the restaurant, making sure he was safe until she arrived, flushed and windswept, bowing repeatedly in thankfulness.

Therefore, Kang Hyungu was blissfully unaware of the sudden awkwardness of past lovers staring at each other with their stunned faces millimeters from each other.

Jungkook froze, holding her tight.

“H… His guitar…”

Her lips parted but no sound came out.

In his shock, he had only now realized she had removed her makeup. His heartbeat leapt to his throat, suddenly remembering how much he had loved the shape of her eyes and the color of her natural, full lips. How her cheeks seemed more filled out now. Healthier. Her skin glowed. He could almost…

Almost.

His body shivered.

She blinked, casting her eyes down. “Oh, shit, how could I forget… T-Thank you. He would be heartbroken without his precious guitar,” she breathed out quickly and exasperatedly, reaching up to grab the strap. “Thank you. Sorry to trouble you.”

“It’s o-okay…”

Jungkook reluctantly peeled away from her, taking a step back. There was an awkward moment of her still holding onto her friend and shouldering the guitar, juggling between the two. Even in that short moment, Jungkook realized Kang Hyungu must work out. He was not as light as he seemed. Instinctively, Jungkook reached out and held Hyungu’s shoulders when the guitar slipped from her narrow shoulder.

“Aw, fuck–”

Jungkook almost laughed at her puffed cheeks and under-the-breath swearing.

Almost, because his heart ached suddenly.

She had been so cute when she was mad, even if it was being taken out on him. He always thought that, so it had always been hard to argue when he was trying not to be in love with those cheeks.

“Sorry, I got him,” she sighed. “I’ll get him home even if I have to drag him.”

“I’ll help you, noona.”

She froze with her arms around another man. Her eyes darted and fixated on him.

Jungkook realized his mistake and also froze.

He had been calling her formally by name out of politeness until now. The same way strangers would address each other with no intention of ever meeting again. The honorific had just slipped out naturally. Or unnaturally, depending on how one considered the effects of alcohol. The blue-haired guitarist was half-asleep on her shoulder. There were only two conscious souls under this streetlamp on this cold night.

A diffused spotlight.

He sputtered. “S… Sorry, was that too informal…?”

Her gaze shifted. Were her cheeks pink from the crisp air or was it his eyes playing tricks on him? “No, it’s fine, I just…” She shook her head, swallowing hard. “It’s been a while since you… It’s okay,” she chuckled, the corner of her lips rising. “I mean, I would be pissed if you called me anything else. Our age difference is not that significant, but it’s there.”

“Y-Yeah.”

Was there hope in those shadowy eyes or was it all in his mind?

“Don’t you have to go home too?”

He grinned.

“Ah, I stay up until three in the morning every night anyway. Let’s get Hyungu-ssi home.”

Which was how you ended up on a bus with not-so-little-anymore Kang Hyungu snoring on your left shoulder and your past fling Jeon Jungkook on your right.

Awkward.

You clutched Hyungu’s guitar bag like your life depended on it. Actually, deep down you were kind of glad it somehow ended up this way. Being on a bus at midnight meant the crowd was the unpleasant kind. It must have been an odd sight. Sleeping Hyungu by the window, you in the middle seat holding a very expensive guitar, and Jungkook at the aisle being a great big buffer to keep the unsavory folk away. He was wearing a thick black parka over his charcoal sweat set, and he had his hood up to protect his ears from the cold.

For some reason, his jaw was clenched.

His eyebrows were furrowed too, giving him a very mean appearance for no reason. Or, at least, no discernable reason you could conclude. He wasn’t looking at anyone in particular as far as you could tell.

“Sorry about this,” you suddenly said.

Jungkook flinched and turned his head to look at you. Instantly, his expression burst into life, the stern expression melting away into sparkling big peepers and pink lips in a small ‘o’, making your breath catch as the small mole under his lip appeared.

You used to kiss that mole first before you kissed his lips.

Used to.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he replied with a smile.

“I feel like I cut your night short.”

He gave you a lopsided grin, scratching his cheek. “Eh, I can go to the club or karaoke bar some other time. And maybe I need to not be so easily influenced, ahahaha…”

You hummed. “Guess you’re still the same, going along with our people’s suggestions.”

He puffed his cheeks. “No, I’m not. I’m here with you now, aren’t I?” he shot back.

Pause.

You both looked away at the same time.

Hyungu snored softly in your ear.

Thanks for that, man.

You tried to ignore the creeping goosebumps along your back. It was not the outside temperature. You were wearing your big black leather jacket over the black sweatshirt and jeans you yanked on to quickly get out the door. Your shoulder bumped into Jungkook’s as the bus stopped and let some passengers off. It was still a few stops yet of this awkwardness. For fuck’s sake, you were the older one. Come on. You resisted the urge to slap your own cheeks to get a grip. Nothing is going on here. The heart palpitations were in your head. Yeah. Totally.

“Thank you, again.”

You felt him shift, sitting up straighter. “I really don’t mind at all, noona.”

You sat up too, casting him a sideways half-smile.

He bit the left side of his lip, mumbling.

“I never minded doing anything for you.”

A strange tingling sensation danced over your scalp and down your shoulders. Sigh. He was doing this on purpose, right? One look and of course not. You shut your eyes. Maybe you could just make up a reason to hate him. You thought you had lost him under other bodies and darker nights and bad decisions. You thought he hated you for ending it the way you did, so coolly and unfeelingly. You thought.

“Have you been happy, Jungkook?”

You felt him hesitate. You could almost remember how he smelled back then. Like crisp linens and bright cotton. He loved fabric softener and similar clean scents. Have you been happy after me? You hoped so. In retrospect, you had been such a small, meaningless part in this winding road of life.

“I… I guess? I’m doing things I like to do. I feel like I’m able to live more freely, and I figure I can just… keep doing what I’m good at.”

You smiled.

“That’s good.”

You opened your eyes.

“What about you, noona?”

Have I been happy?

Did you even know what that meant? And yet you felt the weight of precious Hyungu’s head against your shoulder. Someone who relied on your good heart wholeheartedly. Never mind your opinion of if your heart was good or not, or even there. Happy? You went to work. You enjoyed your hobbies like music and games. You stayed home and shopped online when you were bored. You had the money to buy your favorite snacks and you had the luxury to have poor time management to eat them at midnight and wake up puffy the next day.

You had a very simple life that your younger self could barely dream of.

I don’t want to end up like my parents.

Was that why you didn’t want to be in a relationship?

“Noona?”

You looked up suddenly, noticing your surroundings. Quickly pulled on the cord to create the gentle bell tone.

“We need to get off here.”

Somehow, Jungkook ended up in a stranger’s corner apartment surrounded by vinyl, boxed CD albums, and music equipment. It was on a lower floor so at least they didn’t have to climb any stairs to get to the front door. The living room area was less like a living room and more like a half-music studio, complete with guitars, speakers, and a computer with lots of expensive looking music equipment around it. The surrounding walls had black foam squares taped neatly, even on the ceiling. The rest of the wall space was occupied by posters of various indie and mainstream bands. He was surprised to see the few plushies of penguins on the couch. Along the wall of the stairs were flyers that each had a corresponding nail that hung lanyards with plastic cards – artist passes. Festivals and concerts and such, each one containing a recurring name if he looked closely enough.

He, along with his past lover, helped the young man he had just met tonight into the bed in the loft area.

It was a small space.

Somehow, they managed being that close.

“Thanks, again,” she sighed, descending down the stairs in front of him. “You must be thirsty. There has to be some water around here.”

Somehow, Jungkook found himself standing in the hallways of a stranger’s apartment drinking a bottle of water as he watched the one who got away rip a memo note off a pad and scribble something down, finding a Pingu mug to sandwich it under.

Somehow.

She turned around and sighed, looking relieved. The guitar bag was on the sofa, safe and sound.

Then they stared at each other, realizing they were now alone.

Well, not alone.

Above them, Kang Hyungu was in dreamland.

“Ah…”

Her shoulders slumped.

“Sorry, I didn’t even ask how out of your way this was. I’ll pay for a taxi back.”

“Ah, no, that’s okay. I can make my way.”

“Don’t be like that,” she scolded, although not with much severity. “I can’t take advantage of your kindness.”

He paused, staring into her eyes. They hadn’t turned on too many lights. Enough to see, and then turned off most of them right away to avoid waking up the neighbors with the brightness. Only the warm bulb by the door was on now, illuminating them together.

“Noona, can I ask you something?” he asked softly, realizing his voice shook a little.

She lifted her head, pulling her hands out of her pockets.

“Yeah, of course. What is it?”

Have you ever been in love?

He looked at her, and he remembered the question she didn’t answer on the bus. They had been hurried and trying not to inconvenience anyone. Now that what about you was lost in the whirlwind of sights, sounds, in time past. Jungkook was pretty sure that he knew what the line of love and distraction was, but he found he had no real words to describe it. Only a feeling of sureness, just as he was sure that if he asked this question, have you ever been in love, he would be overstepping a boundary somehow.

Mostly because it seemed obvious.

And also because it was not fair to ask questions that he was personally invested in the answer and honestly didn’t know if he wanted to know the answer.

Had he ever been in love? Sure, although he knew it was always with the caveat of what he knew at the time and driven by the image painted by his own parents. A miracle that he had a chance to witness. He hadn’t really thought about how deeply seeing them interact affected him until he met her. She never spoke about her parents. It was like they didn’t exist. No photos, no calls, no casual drop-bys to hand over a home-cooked meal and say hi. In contrast, Jungkook had the unfortunately mortifying moment of being balls deep and then interrupted by his own mother right before the big finale. She just silently laughed while hiding behind the door as his mom attempted to enter his apartment, why are there clothes all over the floor, aish, I keep telling you that I didn’t teach you to be messy, and him trying to reassure her that everything was fine and he had to be somewhere soon.

Yeah.

Anyway.

It the time it had been embarrassing, but she had told him something that had, again, stuck with him for a long time after. You are lucky that she takes the time to bother you. Some people would do anything to have their parents care for their well-being just one more time. The realization had humbled him. Sorry. I didn’t know your parents passed away. But she had just shaken her head with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

No, Jungkook, they’re very much alive. They just never cared about me, ever.

He had felt very sorry then, but she had waved her hand and laughed.

Don’t be. I can’t miss something I’ve never had.

It was then that Jungkook realized that he believed in love because his parents were in love. It was later when Jungkook realized that he, too, had been in love, but this was only after he had stopped seeing her. Only after he stopped tasting her strong, concentrated flavor. The world had become a tasteless future despite all the color and saturation trying to grab his attention.

Because she had left.

It might have been short, but that time had been a forever-after packed into a few months.

Jungkook jumped as she tapped the back of his hand with her fingertip.

“Hello? Welcome back to Earth. Did you enjoy your time spacing out?”

She looked amused.

“Guess you haven’t changed from your random space-outs, heh,” she chuckled, taking his empty water bottle and tossing it in the recycling. Even removed the paper label and everything. “Come on. You shouldn’t be interrogating me in Hyungu’s apartment anyway.”

She ushered him out of the apartment and made sure to lock up behind herself. He wondered why she had a key. Then again, her and the guitarist were very clearly good friends. Jungkook wondered if it would still be like that if Hyungu or her started dating. Or, maybe not, if they ended up dating each other.

Suddenly, Jungkook felt incredibly helpless.

She bumped into him because he stopped walking, bouncing off. They were still in the narrow hallway, trying to be quiet so as not to disturb the neighbors at this late hour. The light in the hallway was warm and low. Not due to the night. More because the lightbulbs were generally old and shitty.

“Woah, what’s going on? You don’t know how to walk straight? Do you need a leash?” she whispered lightheartedly, coming around him.

He looked up.

It must have shown on his face because the playful laughter in her features immediately slipped away upon eye contact.

He had millions of unfair questions swirling in his mind, can we try again, is there something wrong with me, why did you leave me, and Jungkook knew he could ask none of them. For fuck’s sake, they had only just seen each other again tonight. He should just be happy they were together now, even in this platonic way. He should just be happy that she seemed healthy and content. He should just…

But you’ve always known me so well.

You aren’t hard to read, Jungkook, she used to laugh when they talked about how fast they had gotten into bed together.

She placed her hand on his elbow.

Dragged from his minty whirlwind memories and thrown into the present, Jungkook stared at her unreadable expression, but there were too many shadows and his vision was too clouded with what was.

“Come on. We can’t stay here,” she murmured gently, pulling him along.

“I’m not letting you go home alone. It’s not safe.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing all this time? Teleporting?” You scowled. “Besides, turns out your apartment is closer to here and mine is further down. It makes no sense for you to double back.”

One thing about Jeon Jungkook was that once he got an idea in his head, he was more stubborn than an ox. It was true back then when he was chasing after your ass and it was true right now. He was frowning at you and furrowing his eyebrows. The frustrated expression was broken by how big his dark brown eyes were.

“I keep telling you it’s not a big deal for me, noona. I don’t mind.”

“This isn’t about whether or not you mind,” you sighed grumpily. “It just doesn’t make sense. Fine. Fine, do whatever you want.”

Which was how you ended up in a taxi with Jungkook, crammed in the backseat of a tiny sedan with a grandpa who didn’t make small talk and blasted trot music. Well, it probably would have felt less tiny if Jungkook wasn’t right next to you like a big fabric blob. You hadn’t paid much attention to how crowded you had been on the bus since you were already weighed down by half-dead guitarist and his guitar. You had thought Hyungu had been playing up his drunkenness for the attention but he had thoroughly passed out by the time the bus had arrived. He was a lightweight so you weren’t super worried to leave him alone. Then again, you couldn’t tell Jungkook to get lost and leave you at another guy’s apartment, because what kind of message would that send?

Not that Jungkook’s opinion of how you spent your time mattered.

It had just felt rude, that was all.

You were kind of worried about him anyway. You witnessed him zoning out and simply standing there twice already. Boy was gonna get kidnapped one of these days. Sheesh. The car rolled to a stop. You paid the driver through the app and thanked him, getting a wordless nod in return. Cool. Opened the car door and climbed out, followed by a big shadowy blob.

Uh.

The car drove away.

“Jungkook, you should have asked him to drive you to your place,” you pointed out.

Those big brown eyes looked from your apartment complex to you. “Huh?”

Was the heck is on his mind? You sighed and pulled up the taxi app again. “Give me your address. I did say I’ll pay for it.”

“I, erm…”

You looked up at Jungkook’s uneasy tone. Confused. He looked uncomfortable and awkward, not really looking at you in the face.

“I kinda have to go.”

You blinked at him.

He waved his hands. “Eh, it’s fine. I’ll go find a bush or something. Um.”

“Jungkook, I’m not letting you pee in a bush. Do you see this place? You think they’ll let me continue living here after seeing on one of their cameras that my guest peed in a bush?”

He looked from the white walls to the stone fence to the black iron gate to the immaculately clean, very neatly trimmed, small ball-shaped bushes. They weren’t even knee-height. “I-I-I just don’t want you to t-think…” He shifted, wavering a bit. Eyes darting in every direction. “It was all the water and the alcohol earlier, um…” You sighed and turned around to punch in the code. “I didn’t want you to think I’m doing it on purpose.”

You paused.

Then you pushed the gate open and motioned him in.

“Come on before your piss yourself.”

Which was how you ended up sighing as you tossed your jacket onto your large charcoal sofa while Jungkook emptied his bladder in the bathroom of your apartment. At least you hoped that was what he was doing. You weren’t going to be a creep and try to listen for evidence. You flopped down, cozying into the soft but durable fabric. You wouldn’t have brought this couch if it wasn’t for the great deal and the ability for it to be modular, meaning you could lock the pieces together to make a bed and watch television, as well as also having the ability to make it look like an L-shaped sofa when you had guests over so that they didn’t know that you really put the potato in couch potato several times a week.

Hey.

Money well spent.

Of course, you usually only had very few guests over. Occasional one to warm the bed and maybe hosting Hyungu’s band members. Not at the same time. Duh. You weren’t trying to traumatize the five friends you had – Hyungu and the other four band members. Yeah. Wasn’t much, but they existed, even though they were busy right now being Korean men and all that. Soon, Hyungu would be egg-headed and off to duty too. You puffed out your cheeks. Temporary, of course, and yet.

Who knows what could happen?

You were always prepared to find yourself alone.

Wouldn’t be the first time to come home, only to realize home didn’t exist.

It never had.

You heard commotion and Jungkook reappeared, looking relieved. Probably because he was. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to…” He trailed off.

You stood up.

You were past the wishing phase. The pretending phase. Past the numbness and looking for promises when there were none. Expectation was only the precursor to disappointment, after all. To be honest, if it wasn’t for your carnal sex drive, you would be past the distractions too. Good to know you weren’t completely ready to throw in the towel yet. If it wasn’t for someone relying on you, you as well have chosen to fade away.

If it wasn’t for…

You made eye contact with Jeon Jungkook, even though you didn’t want to.

Before today, you really wouldn’t have cared about seeing someone you used to date. Past was in the past. You had made a lot of bad decisions. So far, they hadn’t come back to haunt you yet. As you stared into those big brown eyes, frozen in place by your sudden attention, you wondered what you could say to assure him that you were different from back then. You could admit it now. You could admit back then you were weaker than anybody else, fighting your own demons by running away, wondering what was wrong with you to have parents who fought every day and did everything to run away from their internal struggles except the solution of divorce, and you could admit now that you took out that loss on everyone else around you, all the while knowing the reality.

That was just how life was, sometimes.

Life didn’t know fair and unfair. People made choices without caring about the consequences all the time. You didn’t care enough back then, because you knew you wouldn’t know what to do if they cared back. You knew you could never be beloved when you had nothing and no one to call home.

I don’t want to avoid reality, even if I’m afraid.

The past memories flickered like a whirling panorama – Jungkook nervous in front of you, trying to ask about how the automated system worked so he could get ramyeon with the soft-boiled egg at the PC bang in the dead of night. Playing computer games with him, laughing because he wasn’t very good but still trying for some reason. Learning that he wasn’t doing very well in university and that he was trying to do the escapism thing while working on his video editing business on the side. Sharing a bed with him, not saying anything about how all your belongings only fit in one duffel bag. He didn’t have to know. His face between your hands. Kisses that took his worries away. Body to body, warm for the first time in a long time. Your fingertips walking up his chest, all the way to his rattling heartbeat, turning a simple night into a fantasy.

The thought of your actions having any positive effect seemed foreign and impossible.

But maybe that was the victim mentality talking.

“Can I ask you something, Jungkook?”

He looked surprised. “M…Me?”

You hooked your thumbs into the belt loops of your jeans, doing something with your hands so they wouldn’t fidget about. Even now, he was the same. There was still this persistent innocence about him, stubbornly sticking around as if he could be young forever. He still believed in something, even if life kept trying to tell him time and time again that it wasn’t true.

“Do you still have feelings for me?”

You saw the whirlwind flash through his eyes.

Guilt. Nervousness. Uncertainty. Helplessness, wondering if he was asking for something that could never be given. He was still so easy to read. Those big brown eyes couldn’t hide anything and it wasn’t his nature to lie. There were stars in his eyes.

Those stars were tears.

“You said… You said you can’t feel love,” he shuddered, blinking hard.

There wasn’t much space between you and him. Somewhere around a meter. But it felt like light-years of desolate space and sudden heartache from a heart you weren’t sure you had. Maybe you were born with one, but all flowers wither with no care. You were the desert and he was the ocean, at least in the emotional sense.

You wanted to insist.

I can know love!

But, could you?

You collected a breath and nodded. “I wanted to say I’m sorry for back then. For using you, even though you probably don’t think you were used. For breaking the unspoken promise I couldn’t understand.”

Jungkook looked back at you. His voice small, stranded and lost.

“I have never fallen in love after you, noona.”

You were different now, you told yourself, but maybe you weren’t really and that was the problem.

“It’s impossible to fall in love when I have always been in love with you.”

You opened your mouth to tell him that was silly. It had only been a couple months. You hadn’t even really been that attentive. It had been a short-lived romance, if you could call fucking constantly and gaming at the PC bang at three in the morning that. A fleeting gratification. A sharp burst that lit up the timeline of a very long and eventful life that Jeon Jungkook would have. Nothing more.

Just…

A pop of peppermint gum.

You had meaningful relationships. Ones that taught you things about yourself and people. Maybe even ones that other people could consider love, depending on what their definition was.

But, then there was…

Jungkook.

You opened your mouth to tell him he was silly but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

Had it been love?

And could it still be love?

“You… You don’t even know what I’m like now,” you blew out, suddenly feeling winded. “I could be a total asshole.” You looked away, tucking your tongue in your cheek.

“But I helped you make sure you got your friend and his guitar home safe?” Jungkook questioned, sounding confused. “Would a total asshole would do that?”

“I don’t know,” you rambled, not so sure about anything anymore. “I mean… you’ve only just met me again after how long?”

“A really long time,” Jungkook answered, frown in his tone.

“Yeah, exactly.” You latched on, not caring that he didn’t even calculate it. “How do you know it’s not rose-tinted glasses and all that?”

He shrugged. Glanced at you. “I don’t really think I have the brainpower for that, noona.”

You stared at him.

Jungkook shrugged again.

You shook your head. “You can’t say that about yourself.”

He scratched his cheek, looking sheepish. “At least I know where I’m still lacking?”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “No, you–”

He beat you to it.

“Do I have to understand?”

You froze, realizing you had taken a few steps towards him, perhaps in hopes of shaking some sense into him. This was crazy. This didn’t make any sense. This was only a coincidence turned convoluted by memories, tangled emotions, circumstance…

“My mind might forget, but my body always remembered. There is only you for me.”

Your head snapped up, seeing his soft smile. The recall was so fierce that it was déjà vu, except you had been the one with the gentle smile and he had been the one lost, wondering if you were afraid of losing his love. Now. His short black hair a little windswept, his dark brown eyes a little glassy, and yet he smiled at you, mole peeking out from under the center of his lower lip. Do I have to understand? To understand was to know and to know was to be sure that you were in love, except that you said so yourself that sometimes the thoughts didn’t quite catch up to the heart.

He looked embarrassed, abruptly looking away, letting out a shaky breath.

“It’s just… I think I knew it all along but, even if I know, it doesn’t mean I can change your mind, ha… ha, can you imagine, running off to track you down, you would just think I’m crazy, and if I jeopardized your happiness for my own selfishness, I don’t think I could live with myself… and, anyway…”

He wasn’t really looking at anything anymore.

“Even if what I wanted was ugly, our time was beautiful.”

You stepped forward.

“It’s a common, basic story, isn’t it? My wish for us to be exceptional is too foolish,” Jungkook laughed weakly. Rambling. Speaking from his heart but still unable to focus on the present.

You reached forward.

“I wanted everything about you. I still do.”

Your fingertip touched his cheek.

“Don’t cry,” you finally said.

He froze.

You wiped away a fallen star, the overhead lights of your apartment catching the tears before Jungkook even realized they were there. You brushed the droplet away, but they were falling, falling, and he turned his head, still not really registering what was happening, even as the base of your palms pressed into his cheeks and swept his tears away, quickly breathless as you were captured by the universes entangled in his eyes. You could feel the wetness on your skin. The shudder in his breath. His hands came up to touch your wrists, and you still believed you couldn’t be enough for him, even now, but your body responded on its own, cradling his face, bringing him to you.

“Please don’t cry,” you said again, softly, and realized you said it because, a long time ago, you would have done anything to have someone tell you that in the past, please don’t cry. So, you told Jungkook instead.

He was someone as precious as a memory.

And, yes, even if your thoughts didn’t catch up right away, you pulled him to you, body to body, feeling him shiver, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, this isn’t very manly of me, and like clockwork you told him to shut up and cry, holding him because you remembered he liked to be held. You had told him back then that you weren’t really the type to cuddle, but he had finally confessed late one night that he yearned to be close to you, even if only for a little while, and that he had been afraid to admit it in fear of pushing you away. So, you relented, if only to comfort him and make him happy.

Is that love?

“It’s okay to cry,” you murmured gently, stroking his hair. “It’s just not okay to cry alone.”

He buried his eyes into your shoulder and wept.

He was still in his jacket, swamping you with his frame and excess layers. You placed your arms around his waist under his parka, feeling his warm and shaking frame, gently placing your hands on his shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry… I-I don’t k-know why I’m c-crying…”

“Shh…”

You tugged him along. Step by step, and made him sit on the sofa with you, curled up in a tangle of limbs with your hands on his back. His body was hot from emotion, and he pulled his arms out of his jacket to wipe his nose and eyes with his hoodie sleeves, still not looking at you, and you gave him the privacy, not looking at him either, only holding him as close as possible and keeping his parka on his shoulders, covering you and him together.

“T-This wasn’t how… I t-thought… how I would be hugging you a-again…” Jungkook sobbed quietly, leaning his forehead against your shoulder.

You held him close.

“Yeah, well, nothing is really turning out how you or I planned it. Mostly because neither of us had a plan to begin with.”

He laughed, albeit feebly and wetly, but you just smiled and placed your hand on his head again, running your fingers through his hair. You didn’t have a grand speech planned. You didn’t even really know the right words to say or the correct way to organize your thoughts. You simply leaned him against you, nestled in the cushions, and kept your arms wrapped around him for a long, long time.

click here for part ii

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 2 years ago

Text

Always have but never hold

Previous chapter / Last chapter

a/n I welcome you to part nine. I just hope y'all will enjoy it! Thoughts are always welcome! It blows my mind that so many of you are still here reading these scribbles. 🫧🤍

warning: addiction, alcohol consumption, pill consumption, forced behavior, forced sexual behavior, panic attacks.

Parts in cursive are memories

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

16h prior

A bowl of popcorn was long forgotten as you dozed off on Luca's shoulder. A random show was still playing in the background. Filling the space with muffled voices that, since you were so sleepy, felt more like a fluffy cloud that soothed you, pulling you deeper into slumber. And you probably would have spent the night there like that. All curled up beside him. Tired from all the emotions. From all the crying and socializing. You had joined Sydney in her ventures around Chicago for a bit when Carmy stood her up. You kept on telling yourself that it was good to get out of the rental apartment. To try to think about something else. Watch your friend get excited about the smallest of things. But those things also drained you these days. Emotions, no matter what kind they were. All seemed too much. Asking and dampening so much of you.

It was the buzzer that made you stir. For a moment, you were convinced that you had just imagined it. Dreamed it. Until it pierced through the silence again. Followed by a light knocking. You frowned. Lifting your head from Luca's chest, who didn't seem to stir at the commotion outside of the apartment, you made your way toward the door while still rubbing your eyes. Was looking through a peephole something you should have done? Especially in Chicago? Yes, and yes. But you didn't, and when you saw who was standing there, all the sleepiness washed away.

"What are you doing here?", you managed to mutter. Standing still as a statue as you glanced up at the person in front of you. "I... Hi... Look, I just had to come and... and speak to you", you shifted uncomfortably. Unsure of what you wanted to do. Slam the door shut, or stand there and listen. The silence was heavy as you crossed your arms over your chest. Mentioning for the person to go on.

"Just... how have you been?", you let out a laugh in disbelief. "Are you seriously asking me that, Richie?", you huffed. He shook his head. "I want you to know that I didn't mean it all back then, okay? I even called you that night to apologize and...", Richie stated quickly while running his fingers through his short hair. His beard was scruffy; he most definitely hasn't tended to it in a while.

"And what? You all hated me the moment I walked through the family house door. All collectively decided to make me your punching bag", you snarled at him, choosing to ignore the tired bags under his eyes. "Look, shit was hard when Mikey died", Richie noted as if you didn't know that yourself. "Oh really? I didn't seem to notice that", you sassed back at him, making him clench his jaw. You saw him fighting his emotions, and yes, this was such a big step that he had even chosen to come here, but you weren't going to just let him brush over it. "I love that kid so much, and... I was so angry that he left. Lived there somewhere and was away from all of this", Richie said once again. "We were suffering in this shithole, and he had it good for himself there".

"Did you ever stooped to think that Carmen thought about you all constantly? That he had been running plans on how to improve the restaurant? Just because he wanted Mikey and all of you happy?", your own emotions rushed out. Something that has sat on your chest for so long now. Something that you knew Carmen would never say out loud, no matter how much you bubbled inside. Richie fell silent, yet you could see the specks of guilt in his eyes when your words truly sank in.

"What do you want, Richie?", you huffed after a moment. He hesitated. Fidgeting in his spot before he breathed out, "I called Claire. I told her where cousin was going so she could bump into him, told her to... She knew about you". Your stomach twisted. Your skin felt clammy as that familiar feeling of anxiety twisted around your body. "I don't know what I was thinking", he breathed out. "How about you weren't thinking?", you bit back, stepping closer to him. A part of you wanted to slap him. Shove him, at least. Hit his chest. "Want to know a fun story, Richie? My ex cheated on me after dragging me through shit for many, MANY months. So you know how this made me feel?", you felt angry tears building up in the corner of your eyes, "Like I was back at that shithole once again".

Richie's face paled. The emotions on his features were hard to read. There were glimpses of guilt, anger, frustration, sadness, and dread. "I'm sorry; I never wanted to hurt you", he mumbled barely audibly, "I wasn't thinking. I just... I'm sorry". But you shook your head, "It's not that simple, Richie; it's just not all that simple".

Present time

You second-guessed your choice to come here more than once. You barely got any sleep after Richie left. Tossing and turning. Your brain was so full of everything that you started to see your thoughts instead of just hearing them. And honestly, screw people who say that thinking at night is not something that you should do because then do you get the best ideas at night then? Come to the biggest realizations at the oddest hours? When the world around you is asleep or just waking up. When it's just you and nothing else matters. And then, if you hadn't stayed up, would you have chosen to come here anyway? Choose to let the pain of the past slip through your fingers. Chosen to awaken the demon that you had put to sleep a long while ago.

You twisted your skin around your finger. The place where your most precious ring usually lies—one that you have forgotten to take and felt naked ever since. Missing the light blue and green stones that covered the band. The stones that always reminded you of Carmen's eyes. Eyes that you had fallen for so quickly. You missed them. More than missed them. Until you caught a glimpse of them right in the back seat. Big and scared eyes looking at you. Confused and searching. He was here. And he saw you. For some reason, you told yourself that he wasn't going to come. Maybe he had stopped coming here after all. It's been weeks since Carmen told you that he had finally started coming here to talk. Maybe he no longer needed this? But he was here, and he was looking right at you, and even if you wanted to, you couldn't drop his gaze.

"I was young and naive. My parents had died in a car accident, and... I just had Luca and his parents, who were the sweet family that baked shortcakes for the whole street on Sundays", you let out a breathy chuckle. "I felt as if they were forced to love me, so I was so desperate to find someone. Fall in love. Know what it felt like to be loved without obligations once again". You watched as Carmen gripped the chair in front of him. Even from where you sat, you could see his knuckles turning white from the share force he was holding on.

"It was all pretty sweet until... devil drops and pills got involved. He changed in the blink of an eye", you snapped your finger in front of your face. "First it was words; they grew louder and louder. Then came the shoves and forceful touches, cheating". A breath hitched in the back of your throat, and you let yourself close your eyes for just a moment. "I would have stayed. I didn't know how to leave. How to fight for myself", each word you spoke cut straight through Carmen. He felt stupid for not noticing. Brushing away the way you escaped his touches at the beginning. How your skin would react. And then how restless you seemed until you were in his arms. Until he was touching you in some way. At first, he didn't understand why it was important for you to feel him around; he thought you just enjoyed physical touch, but now... Now Carmen knew that this ran way deeper. Through scared valleys of pain. "And if not for Luca, my guardian angel, I don't think I would be here today", you met Carmen's eyes one more time before taking a deep breath.

The room was spinning. The shapes on the wallpaper were dancing as you stared ahead of yourself. Eyes so dazed and so unbelievably heavy. You felt so thirsty, but the thought of moving was simply unbearable. It felt as if someone was kissing your skin, but the sensation felt so far away that you might have just imagined it. And then all of those noises. There was no way you could distinguish between them. But they sure were irritating you.

You manage to pull yourself up. Only now realizing that you had been sprawled out on the bed with nothing but your bra and your skirt on. You frowned, but that was quickly replaced by the wave of nausea that rippled through you. You reached for your phone, leaning onto the walls as you stumble out of the room. You know this place. The doors. It was Ezra's apartment. You tried to remember how you had gotten here, but your mind seemed empty. Nothing—not a scratch at what had happened. There seemed to be no memories of you doing anything after you got into his car.

Things had been weird ever since you caught Ezra cheating last week. You had broken up but gotten back together the next day because he called you crying on the phone about how he didn't want to do life if you weren't with him. So you came back. You hadn't even told Luca about it, well aware that he would not approve. You hadn't even realized that you had followed the noises from the living room. Rounding the corner to see... Just what you had seen last time around, Libby, the saver, and Ezra deep inside her. You didn't remember how you ended up in the bathroom. Hands shaky as you called Luca. Slurring your words as you cried.

"I don't remember much now. The pills made sure of that, but... Luca had to get stitches", your finger ran over your eyebrow. "Ezra tried following us and shit. The police got involved", you said, shaking your head at the distant memory. There were so many times you wished you could just forget. Take all of these memories and burn them. "He overdosed a couple of weeks later, and I felt responsible for it. I think I'll always will". That had become your biggest fear. Losing someone once more because of your actions. Sure, situations with Ezra were different. You were the victim, and as Luca had told you many times, if you had stayed, it would have been you six feet under instead. So you drowned out those voices until Carmy came around, and the fear of losing him started to grow. Then Micky died, and you watched Carmen fall apart. A cold shiver ran down your back.

"I don't talk about my experience. I guess... because... taking makes it real, and I just wish I could forget about it", you finally admit, lifting your gaze to meet Carmen's eyes. "That always felt like my biggest flaw. The reason why people might not want to... love me". The room fell silent. Empty even as you let yourself dive headfirst into the depths of Carmen's eyes. A part of you hoped he would be really angry. Storm off. Curse you out in front of everyone. But he didn't. You could see his own eyes glistening slightly as he muttered something you couldn't miss, "I love you". You bit the inside of your cheeks quickly. Trying to keep your emotions at bay. Not wanting to cry in front of everyone. It was probably silly considering that you just shared parts of your past that still bleed. "Thank you for sharing, Y/N.", the moderator touched your shoulder gently, offering you a tissue. You only nodded at her. Flashing her somewhat of a smile as you stood up, returning to your chair.

Carmen watched every move you made. The way your body was shaking ever so slightly. He watched the way you rubbed your hands together before quickly reaching for your bag and getting up. Carmen, let you pass him. He didn't move. Waiting. Hoping that you would stop beside him. But you didn't; you walked right out. And Carmy just sat there. Feeling the light scent of your perfume. The warmth of it brought him so much comfort. He never thought there was a way to remember someone, even the smallest parts of them, with just a scent. But here he was, and he was dazed. But then, as if his own body had been fed up with him, Carmen shot up as he too headed towards the door. He wasn't sure what he was going to say or do, but he had watched you walk away from him way too many times. He couldn't take it anymore. Simply couldn't. His whole body was screaming at him to do whatever it took to get you back. "Y/N!", he shouted as he saw your figure walking down the street quickly. You didn't turn around, so Carmy picked up his speed, shouting your name as he went.

And then you halted. Letting people bump into you as they rushed past, Carmy frowned as he pushed through toward you. "Hey", he said softly, touching your shoulder only to be met with a broken inhale. That's when he noticed the tears. The tremble. Your hand was on your chest as you tried to breathe in, but it seemed like your lungs were working against you. Carmen looked around quickly, spotting a side alleyway only a couple of steps away. He knew that a busy street full of people wasn't helping the case. So he dragged you to the side, earning a couple of strange looks his way, but ignored them completely.

Your hands were over your face as you sobbed quietly. Trying to fight the panic that flooded your body with crippling anxiety. "Do you want to sit down?", Carmen's voice filled your ears through the drumming of your heart. Your knees bucked in response before you could even nod your head. Camren was quick to catch you, wrapping an arm around you. "Hold onto my waist for a bit", he muttered, before trying to pull off his jacket without having you fall. He dropped it to the ground, not wanting you to sit on the filthy road, plus it was cold. Your nails grazed his skin, even through his shirt, as he carefully helped you settle.

Carmen watched you do the same breathing exercises you had taught him. His head was a mess as he tried to remember how you usually handled this. How you took care of him so he could do the same? He reached for your hands, pushing one against his chest, right over his heart, and the other closer to his lips. Before resting his forehead against yours, "You're doing great, love; keep the exhales longer", he muttered. He watched as you fought your tight chest. How you gasped for air, and the panic set inside him. What if he couldn't help you? What if he was doing the opposite? But then you're pulling yourself into his arms, head deep into the crook of his neck. Just like he had pulled you closer to him back in the restaurant. Desperate. In need. And just like then, your two bodies molded together just perfectly. Knowing what each of you needed. Knowing how to hold. To keep. To soothe.

"I'm sorry... I'm", you muttered against his neck. "You haven't done anything to feel sorry for", Carmen reassured you quickly, brushing his fingers through your hair softly as you clung to him. "I should have...", you started once more, but Carmen wasn't having it. Pulling away slightly, he cupped your face, "You breathe for now; that's all that matters."

Your eyes fall on the chain dangling around his neck. Fingers reaching to pull it from beneath his shit, watching the ring he threaded through the metal chain glistening in the midday sun. "You want it back?", Carmen asked, making you look up at him. And in a way, he knew that he was pushing his luck with a question like that. Maybe it was even inappropriate in a way. Because it was not just any ring. Not just any birthday gift. Carmen gifted that to you after the first bumpy patch you two had in New York. Long weeks with barely seeing one another. Bickering over nothing.

"Just open it", he had said back then. A bottle of rose on the side table as you two lay practically on one another in the living room. Carmen had made dinner, and you had offered to make some chocolate souffle. Watching him slip off the sofa and sink to one knee had you staring at him wide-eyed. "Carm...", you had managed to crock out. "Don't worry, I'm not proposing just... This is a promise ring", he breathed out quickly, "I want to do better. I want to only make you happy".

The memory made Carmen's chest heavy. Especially with the amount of pain you two have been through the last couple of months. "Come on, give me your hand", it's barely a whisper but all you can do is watch as he unclasped his chain, sliding the ring back onto your trembling hand. You instantly started twisting the band around your finger. Feeling a wave of calm rushing through you. As if someone had given you an oxygen mask. Carmen just watched you. Still lost in your head but grounded by a piece of him. His fingers slowly ran up and down your arms and back as he tried to soothe you.

"You're feeling better?", Carmen asked once the shaking died down and your grip on him eased. You only managed to nod your head. Attacks like that left you powerless. Weak. And tired. Carmen knew that as well. Carefully, he brushed away the last tears, still dampening your cheeks. "You did great back there", his words made your heart skip a beat as you offered him a burnt-out smile, "Come on before you turn into a fucking ice cube".

Carmen was almost done making some veggie soup when your phone started to ring. At first, he wanted to ignore it. Let it ring out, because now he just didn't feel entitled to pick up and answer. Yes, you came back to the apartment with him, but he knew this meant nothing. Now he was well aware that it meant nothing. You two still needed to talk. And even if Carmen wished you two could just pick up right where you've been before everything crumbled... A fool's dream. Just the ringing didn't stop, and with you asleep just a door away, Carmen reached for your coat pocket.

Luca. Of course, he thought. Who else would it be? A pang of jealousy rushed through Carmy. He quickly silenced it. Just watching the screen. Waiting for the call to die down. And then he did a rash thing as he pressed the green button, "Hello". The other side of the line was dead silent. Carmen even pulled the phone back to make sure that he had indeed answered. "What the fuck are you doing with her phone?", the words burst through the silence harshly. "She... came back with me after a meeting", he hated that he sounded like a little boy. There was almost no confidence in his voice. A part of Carmen waited for Luca to shout at him. Call him names. But all he heard was a sigh, "Just... She's fragile, Carmen. I know shit's been tough for you too, but if you love her...", for some reason, that pulled something in Carmen as he said, "Of course, I love her", "So be honest with her because you might not get another chance." Carmen nodded his head subconsciously. Knowing well that Luca was right.

"So... who's speaking first", you two sat in the living room. You had woken up about an hour ago with a beating headache in your head. Yet seeing the familiar sheets and decor around you helped in a way. But then realization struck. You were back. Back in the place you were meant to turn into a home, with Carmy in the other room. You let yourself just sit there for a while until you stepped out to find him. He sat on the sofa, head in his hands. Where has this taken you? It pained you to see how torn apart you two were. How much has changed?

"I'm the one who's in the wrong", Carmen said calmly, staring ahead of himself, "I never wanted to hurt you. I don't recognize myself looking back". A deep exhale slipped past his lips, "I would never cheat on you. I would never hurt you in that way. That whole Claire thing was shit". You let out a little chuckle, shaking your head, "It didn't look like shit. She has feelings for you, I can see it", "Does it look to you like I give a shit that she feels something for me?", Carmen turned to you quickly, but you didn't look his way.

"Look me in the eyes; look, love", he said, pressing his fingers against your chin and turning your head towards him, "Eyes don't lie. Remember, you told me that". Your eyes flickered up at his. Your bottom lip quivered. You hoped to find sparks of lies there. But there was nothing but truly sorry-looking eyes. "I met with her three times. The night in the grocery store, then at the party full of old people from school, and we sat and talked in the car once", Carmen said. "But why didn't you come and tell me? Tell me that you met her in the store and stuff?", you huffed, pulling away from his touch. "That's what leaves a bitter taste, Carmen. You did it all behind my back", you didn't want this to turn into a full-blown fight, but you could feel the frustration building up inside you.

"I... I don't have a reason why", Carmen's words cut you deep once more. You just gazed at him. Trying to make sense of this situation. "Let me ask you something else", you clicked your tongue, "Did I cross your mind at least once while you were with her?". Carmen opened his mouth but closed it almost immediately. You let out a diflated huf, "Let me answer that for you—you didn't".

You turned away from him. Truly, what were you doing? Why were you here? It wasn't going to lead anywhere. Your eyes scanned all of your stuff that lay all around the place. Looking at you. Staring at you. But before you could even take a step, Carmen practically sobbed, "I'm sick in the head, okay? I don't know my emotions. There are times when I have to tell myself that the sky is not going to fall on me", his voice seeped deep into you. And as much as you wanted to get out, you couldn't bring yourself to go. "But I'm seeing two doctors. I take meds. I want to get better. I want to make this better", his voice cracked, and you felt him right behind you. "Let me be better for you, please", Carmen touched your hands softly, hoping you would turn around to face him. Hoping to see your eyes. To know. Was there at least a sliver of hope?

"What about me? I wasn't honest either. Doesn't that make you angry?", you turned to face him, "There was someone before you, Carmen", but he just shook his head, "Someone who hurt you. He didn't love you the way I love you, and I doubt you truly felt love for him", those words were your undoing, as you quickly clasped your hand over your mouth to silence a cry. "Let me make it better,", Carmen pleaded, intertwining his hands with yours, "I'm not asking you to drop it all and forgive me. Just give me a chance". You let yourself lean against him, closing your eyes and allowing the silent tears to fall.

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