#money down the drain. could've killed someone

[itsays]

.

[starlightxsvt]

Fated

Pairing: Seungcheol x female reader

Genre: mafia/gang au, exes to lovers, action, slight smut

Warnings: cursing, fighting and stuff

A/N: Happy Seungcheol Day everyone! This is for our birthday boy~ I tried to keep it short but it got outta hand so whoops, strap in for the ride. Also, I'll really appreciate it if you took a minute to let me know what you thought about this cuz this took me a looot of time to write and my eyes and hands hurt really bad. Anyway enjoy!

Never in a hundred years did you expect to meet Seungcheol in the club your cousin had invited you all to. She had just returned from abroad and her wedding was taking place the next week hence it was a long awaited get together. Of course she had arranged it in one of the finest clubs in the city, the one you always wanted to visit but your regular plain desk job couldn't really afford.

You first took notice of Seungcheol when you were on your way back from the restroom, him sitting in the back, more secluded area of the club with a glass of whiskey in his hand. His eyes met yours and they went wide like saucers, a look of displease crossing his face, a rather exaggerated expression - you thought. Sure, you two were exes and went through a salty breakup but his expression was rude and brought back unwanted, sad memories. You contemplated on talking to him but he saved you from that. Standing up in a flash, he walked over to you and hissed, "What are you doing here?" His tone made your blood boil and your initial thoughts of being polite to him went down the drain, "Gee, Mr. Choi, I know I'm not someone your worthy but this is a public place and you don't own it!" You snapped at him. His eyes turned dark as he clenched his teeth and spoke, "For fucks sake, what the fuck are you doing here?" His eyes raked over your body covered in a snug deep wine colored dress.

"I'm here for shopping. Why the fuck would I be here Seungcheol?" You spat, clearly annoyed by his behaviour. Seungcheol let out a frustrated sigh, hands combing through his hair as he muttered curses under his breath.

"Listen, you shouldn't be here, Y/n", he spoke trying to calm down and held your arms. "Woah there, Choi, get your hands off me. Who are you to tell me where I should or should not be?"

Seungcheol looked like he could punch someone as he clenched his jaw tight and gave you a look that made your knees weak, "I'm not fucking around, Y/n, you should not be here."

"What the hell Seungcheol? What is your problem? I'm here to attend my cousin's party. And for the record, we're not together anymore so stop interfering in my life."

Seungcheol opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by one of the suited men behind him who murmured something in his ear that only seemed to infuriate him. He turned towards you, "You- fuck, you should not be here. A deal is gonna go down here."

It took you a couple seconds to put two and two together and a sudden wave of agitation passed through you. You whispered, "You're kidding, right?"

Seungcheol was no ordinary man. He was tenacious and confident- too confident for someone who regularly killed people and ran his underworld business. You figured it out during the time you two were together and you didn't try to dig further for your own good.

"You have no idea what-" Seungcheol was interrupted when one of your cousins appeared out of the blue, "Hey Y/n! Where have you-" her voice trailed off when she saw you with Seungcheol and a smirk appeared on her face, "Oops, sorry, I'll leave you two to it." And as quickly as her came, she left, leaving a panicked you and an outraged Seungcheol. "Can you please explain what's going on?" You whispered to Seungcheol in hope of some enlightenment.

"They got Chan, okay? These mother fucking group of traffickers got Chan and asked for a ransom. They're now here for the money."

Oh no. Your heart sank at the mention of Chan's kidnapping, Seungcheol's younger brother. He was always a pleasure to spend time with when Seungcheol left for business for a long time. "That's bad," is all you could mumble as your mushed brain tried to decipher the situation. "Are you gonna give them the money?" Seungcheol scoffed, "Of course not. Those fuckers are long due for jail. Once I get Chan we're gonna blow out their brains."

You gulped. " It's too late to leave for us right?"

"Yes," Seungcheol replied, his lips forming a thin line. He looked past you, probably towards the entry of the bar and quickly shoved you away, "Go to your friends and stay put. When the firing starts hide behind the counter. Only try leave if there's no firing. Otherwise stay put, you hear me?" You nodded your head robotically, mind racing a mile a minute as you walked back to your cousins, trying to appear calm. Every nerve on your body was alert and goosebumps rose on your skin as you watched a man in a flashy white suit walk up to Seungcheol and his guards, followed by a disheveled looking Chan. You felt bad for him, seeing his normally lit face etched with exhaustion. You ignored the comments your cousins made about you and Seungcheol, waiting for things to start. You carefully looked over to the entrance of the bar and sure enough two tall men stood over there. You really had no way out.

And as expected, all of a sudden, loud gunfires echoed through the room followed by people screaming as you and your cousins quickly took shelter behind the bar counter.

"Oh my god what the fuck is happening?"

"Y/n what the hell is your ex doing?"

"You never told us he's a gangster or shit."

You ignored your cousins rather untimely interrogations thinking of a way out. The bar was a mess, broken glass pieces everywhere, the people who came to enjoy all crouched down covering their heads. You heard continuous gunfires, people groaning and bodies slumping on the floor which only made your cousins voice their panic more.

"Shit we're gonna die."

"My wedding is next week, fuck."

Your eyes peered over to the entrance which was now not occupied by any threating looking men as they were busy fighting. You all could've gotten out if it weren't for the continuous firings.

You and your cousins held your breath for a few moments until a particularly loud firing was heard followed by the sound of breaking glass. You spied from behind the counter to see Seungcheol dropping down on the floor with a groan and Chan's scream of his brother's name.

Shit. Seungcheol was shot.

Chan seemed furious, no more exhaustion on his face as he lunged for the man in the flashy white suit and hitting him square in the jaw.

"Guys, now's the chance, get out of here. Go, go."

"What the fuck Y/n? Don't tell me you're gonna stay here."

"We're not leaving you to die in the middle of a crossfire."

"No, guys, I'll be fine. Seungcheol's shot."

"What? I thought you guys weren't a thing anymore-"

"Please, get your asses outta here if you don't wanna die."

Despite their will you pushed your cousins towards the exit with a promise of calling them as soon as you could, while they called you names to point out your less than smart decision and of course your never leaving feelings for Seungcheol. As soon as they were out the door, you rushed over to Seungcheol who sat against the wall, jaw clenched as he held onto his shoulder.

"Y/n what the fuck? Get out of here- why the fuck- ugh, dammit."

"You're shot Seungcheol, maybe stop talking" You applied pressure to his bloody shoulder while Chan who sat atop of the man in the flashy white suit and twisted both his hands back and gave you an incredulous look, "Y/n? Wha- uhm, I thought- you two broke up...?"

"Uh...it's a.... coincidence, I guess. I think we need to get your brother to a doctor, you know" You murmured.

"Yea right," Chan agreed and handed his hostage over to Seungcheol's guard not before punching him in the lower stomach. "I'd kill you but that'd be a mercy. You deserve to suffer, you son of a bitch."

He helped Seungcheol to stand up with you as you both gently took him out of the club and into his limousine, all the while Seungcheol saying that he was alright.

The car ride to his place was quick but silent, except Chan who sat beside the driver once spoke to let you know that it was good to see you. Seungcheol rested his head on your shoulder as he let out uneven breathes and you applied pressure to his wound.

"I guess you... really... can't escape...fate, huh?" He whispered and you frowned at him. "What do you mean?" You asked him but he only replied with a chuckle, his body getting heavier against yours. Your heart ached for the man. You were never over him, you knew that deep down. Hell, your cat even knew that.

Seeing Seungcheol's large mansion again brought back sad memories but you couldn't really focus on them. His servants rushed Seungcheol into the small infirmary of the house where a doctor was waiting.

You stayed outside, anxiously tapping your foot against the marbled floor while quickly typing a message to your cousin letting her know you were okay before putting your phone on mute.

The family doctor appeared with good news, saying his wound wasn't that bad and only a few stitches had it covered. While Seungcheol was transferred to his bedroom, Chan called you to the large dining hall to offer you a glass of water.

"Are you gonna stay the night? Should I set up a room for you?"

"Uh, um, no maybe I'll stay by Seungcheol's side," you replied, avoiding eye contact.

"Sure," was all he said as a smirk took over his lips. We're you really that obvious?

It was past 12 when you decided to peek into Seungcheol's room, after you stole a pair of night suit from his closet which was uncomfortably large for you. You sat by his bed, taking in the way he looked while sleeping. His injured shoulder was casted in a sling and his hand rested over his naked chest. Small scratches were painted over his chiseled face and you lightly stroked them. You relished the bittersweet memories you had with him in this room, from all the romantic nights to the fights. Before you knew, you were asleep.

You woke up to Seungcheol's hand softly stroking your cheek. Your eyes met his and warmth spread on your cheeks. You looked at the clock. It was almost four.

"How do you feel?" You croaked, sitting up from the stool by his bed.

"I'm good." Seungcheol was a strong man. You knew his body had gone through a lot and judging by how he looked, you took his word for it.

"You stayed," he whispered. His face was illuminated by the moonlight coming from the open balcony doors, the face of an angel. You only nodded, transfixed by his beauty, hoping he couldn't see your embarrassed face. "What did you mean by that? The thing you said in the car," you spoke and Seungcheol carefully sat up. He sighed and leaned against the headboard before meeting your eyes. He looked...pained. "I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I never broke up with you because you weren't enough. You were more than anything I ever wanted. I broke up with you because...I was...scared." He swallowed. "Things were not really going according to my plan back then and...this mother fucking gang was threating to harm you. I... couldn't let that happen, Y/n, so...I broke up with you."

You stare at him, incredulous. "You...you have some serious issues, Choi Seungcheol." You whispered. Seungcheol chuckled softly, " You- you mean the world to me. I was so scared something would happen to you if you stayed with me. I know I made an awful decision and I said awful things to you-"

"No shit, Seungcheol, your words weren't exactly the most helpful for my already insecure self." You spat.

"I know, and I'm so, so sorry." He sighed, his head dropping down, "What happened yesterday only proved that I really can't escape fate."

"So you are saying we are fated to be together?"

"Aren't we? I mean, look at us."

You laughed softly before saying, "I'm still mad at you, you know." Seungcheol smiled at you as he took your hand and planted a soft kiss, "You can take out all your anger on me if that means you're gonna give me another chance."

"I'll...have to think about it," was your reply even though you knew your answer. "That's great. That's more than I deserve." Seungcheol mumbled. "Can I hold you?" He softly asked. You scooted closer to him, careful to avoid his injured shoulder as he passed his other hand around your waist. His faces inches away from you, he spoke, "You are the most beautiful thing that happened to me, Y/n and I'm sorry I let you down like that. I promise you, if you give me another chance I'll make it all up to you. I'll make you the happiest woman alive. Come back to me, baby."

You gulped feeling emotional as you replied, "Okay but you need to get well first you know." Seungcheol's eyes bored into yours, his chocolate orbs getting more intense by the seconds before he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was soft and short before he pulled back to assess your reaction. When you didn't resist, he pulled you in for a messy, hot kiss that left tingles all over your body. Before you knew it, you were in his lap, tugging at his hair as he nipped across your neck and shoulders. There was no way this wasn't gonna end up with you underneath him if you didn't stop him. "Seungcheol...stop it. You're hurt."

"I could have half of my body ripped open and still not resist you baby, you are divine."

"Uhm, that's concerning but okay. Why don't we get some sleep now?" You pulled back from him and a pout took over his face.

"You are seriously not thinking about having sex right now, are you?"

"Why not? It has been so long and I miss you."

"I get it horny boy but no. How about we cuddle now and when you are fully healed you can keep me in your bed all day."

A devilish smirk took over his face that made you squirm, "Is that a promise sweetheart?"

You nodded shyly before gently lying on his uninjured arm and wrapping a hand around his torso. Damn, it felt good.

Seungcheol kissed the top of your head as you snuggled closer. He whispered, "Promise me you'll stay."

"I will," you smiled.

"Unless my cousins find my location and drag me out of here tomorrow."

[hotchscvm]

a lifetime of illusions

Warnings: angst, implied smut, mild violence, major character death

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: A whirlwind summer romance sweeps you off your feet. But you never once regretted it.

Or: In which you fall in love hard and fast, yet when it all stops, you spend the rest of your life thinking "What if?"

You never considered yourself as someone who would be swept off their feet just because of a guy with a pretty face. But he had been so much more than that. He made you happy, made you smile, made you feel truly alive. Not once had you regretted your decision; you were happy, as happy as someone could be.

Stepping outside, you blocked your eyes from the hot summer sun. The busy, yet small city noise filled your ears, the smell of saccharine desserts invaded your nose. Smiling, you felt at home in this foreign island. The people around you smiled, not one of those tight, uptight grimaces, but a genuine, huge smile. People around here were so different. It was nice.

You called for a cab, surprised there had been a cab at the small island, even more, surprised when they hadn't made fun of your struggle to communicate. Instead, they smiled and helped you figure out where you were supposed to go. He introduced himself as Barry.

"So, ma'am, how long are you staying in Savos for?" Barry asked, taking a turn left. Besides you, the beach stretched out for miles, the sun setting above the horizon. It left a streak of crimson in the orange sky.

Grinning, you shrugged, eyes twinkling with excitement. The long plane ride did nothing to drain the energy and excitement out of you. "Don't know. But from the looks of it, I want to stay forever. This is possibly the most beautiful place in the world."

"It sure is, ma'am. Especially during the summer, you came at the right time. We don't get a lot of tourists due to the long and exhausting traveling." Barry said, pulling up to the large hotel. "Here we are. Have a good night."

"Thanks, Barry. You, too." you thanked, opening the door. You were ever so grateful to pack light, the only thing in your hands was your phone, and bag hanging on your shoulder. The hot wind made you shiver, contrasted by the cold cab, the sudden temperatures changed made you crave the summertime more.

The cab drove away, the sweet sound of the tires against the cement hitting your ears. Walking to the hotel lobby, you checked in, admiring at the antique furniture and the warm white lights. It had an olden vibe, one that you didn't mind. The girl handed you your keys without a word, pointing to the elevator. You had to admit, the hotel was kind of stuffy, a little dusty but a little dust never killed anyone. Who were you to judge for the lack of dusting?

You reached your designated floor, the elevator doors opening with a loud ding. As if you were in a hurry, your sprinter down the hall to your room; in truth, you were just eager to change and see the island for yourself. Unlocking your door, you were greeted by the sight of a clean room, a white bed, white walls, and a white carpet. For an antique-looking hotel, you'd thought the room would have more character.

No matter. You tossed your bag on the bed, slipping into some clean clothes. If you weren't so hungry, you would've taken a shower, gotten rid of all the sticky things that touched you during your flight. Instead, you practically tore your dirty clothes off just to get a fresh feeling from your clean ones. Pulling your hair up, you texted your parents and friends, texting them you had made it.

They had all been a bit hesitant about having you travel to a foreign island by yourself. It had been a little ridiculous but you finally got all of them to agree. After all, you needed to celebrate graduating from college. It only happened once. What better way to celebrate than traveling around the world for the whole summer before returning back to your stuffy life?

There was a fun-looking restaurant across the street from the hotel. A lot of people crowded the place, dancing to the loud music leaking out of the restaurant. You snaked your way through the crowd until you reached the host stand, letting out a huge breath you've been holding in order to squeeze past. It might've been crowded inside but the restaurant wasn't. The tables were all filled but there had been no line.

You made your way to the table, smiling when you reached it. The host gave you a small smile. "Hello, do you happen to have a table for one?"

"Um, lemme check." She glanced down at the booklet in front of her, then scanned the place, as if an empty table was suddenly going to appear. "I'm sorry, ma'am but there isn't a table available. If you'd like you can wait, it won't be long—"

"She can sit with me. If she doesn't mind being tortured by my company." A voice interrupted. Both you and the hostess turned towards the source of the sound, eyes widening when you saw the breathtakingly gorgeous man. He smiled at you, holding out his hand. "Hey, I'm Chris."

You shook his hand, slightly confused by his blunt offer. You told him your name and the corner of his lips lifted even more. "You look really familiar, Chris."

His eyes glimmered with amusement. "Yeah, I get that a lot. You have a beautiful name. Would you like to dine with me tonight? It's totally okay if you say no but it'd be nice to have some company tonight. I'm new in town."

"Me, too," you replied. Biting your lip, you mulled over his question. You wanted to say yes—who wouldn't? He was absolutely beautiful but it wasn't like you to have dinner with a complete stranger. On the other hand, you did promise yourself to be more spontaneous, take more chances.

Sensing your hesitance, he scratched the back of his neck, glancing at the floor. "I promise I won't bite. And if you don't have a fun time, I'll give you some money and we can call it even. What'd ya say?"

Of course, you said yes. If you hadn't, your whole life could've gone so much differently.

—

It started with dinner, then lunch the next day. It wasn't long before the two of you spent your days together, sometimes going to the beach, sometimes staying in either of your hotel rooms, staying in each other arms, stealing a few kisses. You didn't realize how much of a big deal he was. And he didn't tell you, fearing you'd ditch him.

After your third official date, you slept with him, loving the way he touched you. You smiled when you woke up in his arms the next morning, he had mirrored your expression, kissing you until you were both breathless. Only a week had passed but you were so smitten by the Bostonian. It was during the second week that you realized how smitten he was with you.

"Christopher Columbus, you know how impatient I am. Come on! Lemme see." you pleaded, a little annoyed by his hands covering your eyes. He chuckled behind you, pulling you even closer to his chest. "Chris."

His chest vibrated from his laugh. "Sweetheart, I promise we're almost there. It's not a surprise if I show you. Just wait a little longer. I promise you'll love it."

You groaned, suffering blindness under his grasp. As much as you hated secrets, you liked the way his hands were on you, the way he looked in his Captain America swim trunks. It was adorable. "Okay, fine."

As soon as your feet touched the water, you started to get even more suspicious, aware you were ankle-deep in the ocean. Maybe he was gonna drown you. You let out a little laugh at that. The man had too much love in his heart to even think of such a dark thought.

"Do I get to hear the joke?" he asked, his lips grazing your ear. You giggled at the motion, his neatly trimmed beard tickling you. "Are you ticklish?"

There was a dangerous playfulness in his voice so you quickly shook your head no. "Of course not, your wild beard just gave me neck rash."

"Darling, that's just the hickey I gave you." he teased, laughing when he felt you roll your eyes under his hand. Chris swore, quickly leading you back towards the beach before making you walk across the hot sand with it sticking to your soaked sandals. "Sorry, my mind wandered and I accidentally led you somewhere else."

"Oh my, God." you snorted, finding amusement to your boyfriend's confusion. Was he your boyfriend? You didn't have the talk, let alone labeled what you were. Three dates, days spent together, and mind-blowing sex didn't mean you were dating, right?

Your sandals thud against the wooden ground. You raised an eyebrow at the feeling, curiosity making you impatient from the long-awaited surprise. It was ridiculous how long he made you wait, almost as ridiculous as Barney Stinson's legendary catchphrase Chris once jokingly admitted he loathed.

Once you were in the angled the way he wanted, he grinned, the smile touching his eyes. "Okay, are you ready?"

You nearly yelled at him. "Yes!"

With one swift movement, his hands disappear from your eyes, leaving you to open them slowly as you took in the scene in front of you. Floating in the water, a few feet away from you was a sailing yacht, the boat rocking slightly. A tiny squeal escaped your lips, glancing between the boat and Chris. You wrap your arms around the man, head snuggled against his chest.

"It was hard finding someone that would let me rent their boat without a boating license. But don't worry, I know enough to keep us afloat. Do you like it?" he asked, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

It was crazy how this man could make your heartbeat out of your chest. Grinning up at him, you gave a nod. "I adore it. It really was worth the wait, huh?"

He wasn't looking at the boat when he answered. He was too busy admiring how beautiful you were to even take his eyes off of you. "Yeah, it really was."

You pulled him aboard the boat, letting him teach you all the right procedures. He had let you steer the boat with his assistance, murmuring praises in your ear, arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he stood behind you. The wind would blow your hair back, making him spit it out when it got in his mouth. Both of you laughed whenever a piece of your hair got wet from his spit; it was also very gross.

The day was spent on the boat, blankets tossed over both your bodies as you watched the sunset. Chris had decided to become the next Shakespeare as he described the colors of the sky, laughing when you jokingly mocked his Boston accent that slipped out every once in a while. Night had come, and Chris drove the boat back to the docks, thanking the owner.

That was the night he realized he was deeply and irrevocably in love with you.

—

He didn't get a chance to tell you.

He was ripped out of your arms before you could tell him you loved him. Didn't even get the chance to say goodbye.

July came and went. Chris had taken you back to his hometown with the plan to introduce you to his family. Neither of you thought it was moving too fast. You wanted him and he wanted you. It was as easy as that. Yet, he was nervous. Not because he wasn't sure if his family would accept you, he knew they would immediately adore you as he did.

No, he was a wreck ever since he placed his grandmother's ring in his pocket, waiting for the perfect opportunity to come up. It never did.

You met his cute dog, one he named after Oliver & Company. It was hard to decide who water cuter—you soon chose Dodger after Chris scared the shit out of you. The summer was coming together in the best way possible and you never wanted it to end, didn't want to go back to your normal life where everything was vanilla at best.

So, you didn't. You met his parents, spent the remainder of the summer with him in Boston. It was easy being with him, so easy you thought about blurting the three words that eased in your head whenever he smiled, laughed, or moved. You had it bad. Too bad you never found out how much he did.

It happened on a normal Saturday night; you were making dinner while Chris drove back from a day hanging out with Scott. Tonight was the night, the night you told him how in love you were with him, how he wiggled his way into your heart. Your hands were trembling with anxiety as you waited for him, trying to calm yourself, wishing he would get home faster. Dodger calmed you a little but it wasn't enough.

As it got later, your anxiety faded, anger replacing the strong feeling. You had been texting Chris, only getting a few responses in return until he just stopped. Anger seeped out of you as you put the food in the fridge, cursing at the thoughtfulness of your boyfriend. You never got to say sorry for thinking about yourself when his last thought was about you.

For him, tonight would've been the night. The night he confessed his love, the night he popped the question, the happiest night of his life until you get married. He was hopeful you would feel the same way, even asked his friends if they thought you did. They all had answered without hesitation, assuring him you did. So, he picked up his balls, and got his head together. He had a plan: tell you about his actor status, professed his heart out, and get on his knees.

Fate had other plans.

Chris could tell you were anxious, even through text he could read you. He tried his best to assure you he would be home soon. He smiled at the word; home was you. He shouldn't have been texting and driving. If people realized how important those ads were, maybe they would take them seriously. Unfortunately, Chris never thought he would end up as one of those.

It wasn't his fault, far from it. He had stayed in his lane, never veering off his own space. He might've been speeding, but it wasn't his fault. The headlights blinded him, so much that he couldn't move out of the way fast enough. The oncoming car came at him, and he died instantly.

Scott had called you, asking if he could come over, unable to tell you the bad news over the phone.

Opening the door, you greeted the other Evans brother. "Hey, Scott. Have you heard from Chris? He hasn't been answering my texts and I'm really worried. A little miffed but mostly worried—hey, are you okay?"

Tears ran down his cheek as he engulfed you in a hug. His body shook and your stomach dropped. "Chris...he got into a car accident. T-they tried to rush him to the hospital but, [Y/N], he was dead on impact. Sweetie..."

You fell to your knees, the rest of the sentence trailing off as the words sunk in your head.

He was dead.

You cried for days, with the amount of tears you cried, you could've filled the huge bathtub in Chris' house. It was worse during the funeral, seeing his dead, lifeless, cold body in a wooden casket. You didn't think could have gotten worse, but it did.

His will was read, he made changes to it during the summer. If anything happened, you had the house, Dodger was now yours, a handful of millions were in your hands. Other than Dodger, you didn't care about the possessions you held. Not until Lisa, Chris' mom, came by with a blue, velvet box in her hand.

You didn't open it until you couldn't stand it. Opening it, you found the pear-shaped diamond engagement ring resting in the middle. That was when you saw him. It took you by surprise, scared you shitless when you saw him standing in front of you, alive and as remembered. Dodger hadn't reacted to his dad's return. It made you wonder if you dreamt of his death. He didn't say a word as he took the box, got on his knees, and smiled up at you.

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes."

You didn't have kids, instead you spent the rest of your lives enjoying each other's company. You got married, lived the American dream. It confused you whenever you saw mourning posts about Chris when he was clearly alive. So you stayed off the internet, living the second chance you were given. You were happy.

Chris showered you with presents, cuddled you every night, and woke you up with kisses every morning. You barely fought, and when you did, you never stayed mad at each other long. You couldn't find it in yourself to take him for granted again, not when he was taken away from you.

Scott would visit, his face becoming more and more concerned as the visits became monthly, like he was sure you were going insane. But you weren't. Not to you, at least. He never spoke to Chris when he visited, not that Chris was in the room when he did. Scott would stare at the engagement ring around your ring finger, a sad smile appearing on his face before he would go.

You dismissed everyone's weird behavior whenever you brought up Chris. They would always look down, avoiding the subject like he wasn't there. Still, you thought nothing wrong. You were too euphoric to realize how fucked up your situation was.

Life went on, you spent most of it with him, clinging to his presence as if you didn't hold on tight enough he was going to ripped out of your arms again. You got older, so did he, just not in the way you thought he would.

Sighing, you settled beside the love of your life, the back pain, and old age making it hard to get into bed. 70 was a bitch and you weren't taking it too well. Rolling over, you were greeted by the sight of the same Chris you met those many summers ago.

He smiled gently at you, tears brimming his eyes. He cupped your sagging cheek with his hand, the same hand you held so many times. "Sweetheart, I love you so much. You were my destined one but I never got to say goodbye. But you do. You have to let me go and live out the rest of your life."

"How...I—" you gasped softly, unable to feel him.

"You have to let me go."

And you did. Closing your eyes, you saw the past 50 years as they have been. You talking to the empty space in front of you, leaning against the couch, cuddling the pillow you thought was your lover. You truly saw the emptiness in Chris' family. They were lost without their brother, without their son while you lived a lifetime of illusions, delirious from the sadness over his death. You clung to him, even when it wasn't really him.

So, you did as he wished. You let him go and went to sleep.

But you never woke up. Because the only thing keeping you alive was his presence. And he was gone. It only took you five decades to realize how empty you were without him. Because he made you feel alive.

You had spent a lifetime imagining him.

[phantom-wolf]

Day 8: Pirates and Cowboys

Old life, New Beginning

A/N: I'm going to put content warnings in the tags and also before the story just in case

For @usukweek

Content warnings: character held captive/ prisoner, mentions of robbery, use of guns, mention of insects, 10 year age gap, minor character death, suggestive themes 

Summary: In 1875, Arthur Kirkland decides to travel to Europe. On his journey the ship he's on is attacked by pirates. Lo and behold one of those pirates is Alfred Jones.

You can also read it here:

A familiar four clicks accompanied the movement of his thumb as the hammer of the single action was cocked. A spatter of blood and gore soon accentuated the deck as one of the pirates took the bullet that tore from the blond's revolver. He instinctually ducked as bullets whistled by and nearly found their mark. The only thing roaring in his ears was the sound of his own heartbeat, unimpeded by gunfire but rather spurned to a faster beat as adrenaline flooded his senses. The ringing in his ears that would've been acknowledged by a novice went unnoticed.  Fragments of wood dispersed as bullets embedded themselves into the deck and masts of the ship. 

The male found himself in a less than ideal position, forced to take cover in a location that left his rear exposed and able to be flanked. He couldn't afford to let his attention divert to this fact in the chaos of battle. All he could do was hope that the others could fend off the invaders and that there was no second point of entry. Another click distinguishable from the sound of the hammer was audible as the last chamber of the Peacemaker was emptied. Instead of wasting time reloading he reached for the second gun in its holster, a relatively newer Smith and Wesson model three he had bought off someone whose name he couldn't recall. Before he could properly grip and raise the weapon he sensed a presence behind him and felt metal dig into the back of his head. Instinctually he froze and mentally cursed himself for acknowledging the weakness while doing nothing to prevent it. 

"Hand away from your weapon."

Weighing his options he complied, slowly feeling himself relax as the barrel was removed from the back of his head. He turned to face the perpetrator, sizing him up, taking note of his broader figure, dirty blond hair and estimating his age to be in his thirties before his focus shifted to looking down the barrel of the weapon. A gleeful delight overcame him, a catalyst for confidence whereas in a different situation he may not have had. There wasn't a round chambered in the barrel. His eyes flicked to the other man's blue ones before a laugh escaped his lips full of contempt and amusement, the tension in his shoulders relaxing as the fear drained from him.  Pointedly he stated "If you're going to be aiming a weapon at someone it should be loaded." 

His attacker had enough common sense to look slightly embarrassed, eyes widening slightly before narrowing once more, his finger curling tighter around the trigger and his thumb brushing against the hammer of his revolver in an attempt to regain control of the situation "There are five rounds, all it takes is a quick rotation of the cylinder. So I suggest you cooperate."

The pirates' attempt wielded no fruit as another snicker left the other's mouth." This was poorly planned on your part. If I was a- duller gentleman what would stop me from pulling my secondary and shooting you on the spot?" 

The pirate looked affronted. "The fact that by the time you would've pulled it out I would've taken the end of this weapon and hit you over the head. Or simply pulled back the hammer a few times and shot you before you could me." Arthur could see the stranger practically bristling as he continued. "Anyway, what's wrong with you? Who decides to look down the barrel of a gun pointed at them?!" To his utmost amusement he could hear the man murmur under his breath about how in all the years- 

"You're confident in your abilities I'll give you that. And you're lucky I'm no gunslinger." Arthur started, peeking over the barrel that served as cover and scanning the deck for any other resistance from the other crew members of the merchant ship. Finding none he decided not to risk being shot by the thieves who had boarded during their conversation. It had seemed the victors were decided. "To answer your question, a very clever man."

"Or a very stupid one" The pirate grumbled and narrowed his eyes, giving him a glance over before stopping on his face. Despite the now rather medium length beard that accompanied his features and some grey poking through his wild blond hair he could see a multitude of things flash through the other's expression, the two most prevalent being surprise then recognition. 

"You're- Arthur Kirkland." 

Arthur let another curse leave his lips not caring enough to hide his rather foul mouth as the stranger shouted to the others and he was guided on board the pirate's ship. 

--

Now he found himself imprisoned aboard some ship he knew nothing about. A rich orange light filtered in through a circular window of some kind, slowly retracting and leaving strange shadows in its wake as the sun started to set. Left to his own thoughts for entertainment, he mulled over the irony of the situation and mused that if he had wanted to be in a cell he would've walked himself into the local sheriff's office. He mindlessly swatted festering insects away as they found their way into his holding through the opening, torn between being grateful for the ventilation while also loathing it for being an easy access point for flies. He'd come acquainted to the soft creaking of wood and boisterous voices above drowning in whatever alcohol they could scrounge up. Several days, ten since his capture and a few days on board his previous vessel had granted him the mercy of letting him adjust himself to the sway of the waves underneath them. His body ached and he wasn't sure if it was from the hard floor below him or from the moisture that was in the air. It was however a definite reminder that he wasn't as young as he used to be.

 A nearer, heavier creak caught his attention and he turned his head to the source spotting a silhouette in the doorway. With the illumination of the kerosene lamp his visitor clutched he could make out the details of a familiar figure. Deeming him as non hostile he relaxed and decided to greet his company. "Come here for free entertainment? If you did I apologize. I'm not very interesting."

"I came here to give you some food"  The familiar voice of the pirate who had found him in the first place spoke. "And to deliver some news. As for that second part we both know that's not true."

At the announcement of food Arthur sat upright and moved to the bars. "We'll thank you for the compliment" He murmured more focused on what the other carried then the conversation. He kept his composure despite the rumbling of his stomach, stamping down any ebbing curiosity that threatened to reveal itself. News was an inconsistency in routine that had been made over the past several days and frankly he wasn't sure if he wanted to know what that meant.  "What is it this time?"

"Some dried beef and some beer today." 

A little humorous and witty remark rolled off his tongue easily."You pirates' meals are quite bland, you know that don't you Alfred?" 

Sensing the humor in his words Alfred chuckled. Somehow he managed to juggle the beer, meat and lamp by keeping the drink close to his body with his arm and gripping the wrapped cloth that had the dried meat with the same hand, letting the other carry the light source."You're lucky you're not eating the biscuits. The bugs like to make their homes there."

At that Arthur grunted, disgusted but not surprised. "The bugs make their homes everywhere. It doesn't surprise me they are embedded in your food as well."

"Your food now." Alfred responded with a light hearted grin deciding to take the lasting conversation as an invitation to stay. He'd done this every time he brought food and drink. Arthur held no hostility to him, not minding the company either. Afterall, if he had been in the pirates' place he would've done the same thing. Extra money wasn't something that was stumbled upon frequently. He supposed he should even be grateful that Alfred hadn't decided to shoot him right then and there. Although conversing with the man led to one of the answers he was searching for. Turns out Alfred didn't like to kill civilians if he didn't need to. At the time he had figured the situation was under control and sensing the opportunity for an ambush had done so. He'd much rather use intimidation tactics to manipulate the situation. What the quartermaster hadn't realized was that the newest edition to the crew, Jackson had been shot until after. These things tend to get lost in the chaos of gunfire and screaming. 

The lamp was set down as a hand slipped between the bars with the cured meat clutched in it, which he eagerly took and was soon followed by the beer. He knew it was beneficial to them to keep him alive, however that was a very...broad term. He doubted the bounty poster specified that he had to be in pristine condition to claim the reward. So he was happy to accept some of the more quality food. 

They stayed in silence for a few moments, Arthur slowly tackling the meat and washing it down with beer until Alfred broke it. "You're to be brought up to the deck today".  

Upon hearing those words Arthur nearly choked on the beef, managing to swallow without incident. "What?" 

Alfred shrugged nonchalantly, although had appeared concerned when the other almost choked. "I did say I had news for you."

"You could've mentioned it earlier!" 

"Yeah I guess so. But then you wouldn't have eaten, insisting to go now. This way you have energy. So finish your food and then I'll bring you up." 

Arthur seeing no other option simply ate a little faster. 

---

Arthur was grateful for the sun's position upon stepping out onto the deck for the relative lack of light. He was sure if the sun had been higher an unforgiving headache would've blossomed behind his eyes at the sudden influx of light. His joints popped from the exercise he found himself able to partake in. It felt nice after being confined to a small cell for a little over a week. He was still weary however. Years of experience had taught him that nothing was easy in this world. Nothing was given, everything came with a price. Not even stealing was without its dues. This situation was quite the reminder. 

He sensed Alfred's eyes on him and turned to look at him. It was at this moment Alfred spoke up. "Captain Williams wants to talk to you." 

There it was. "Oh? And why's that?" 

"That's something you'll have to ask him yourself. But don't worry! Whatever it is, it will be alright. After all, you got me on your side! I'll do my best to protect you!"

Arthur raised an eyebrow at this statement dubiously. "My hero" he retorted with a roll of his eyes, sarcasm dripping from his words. 

Alfred seemed to brighten up at that not seeming to either notice or care that it had been sarcasm. Not wanting to ruin the man's mood, Arthur wordlessly followed Alfred to the Captain's quarters. Williams was waiting for them, looking up as the door opened and Alfred greeted him. "Mr. Kirkland" Was the simple greeting he'd received. At least the captain seemed to hold a little respect for him. 

Arthur gave a small nod of his head, tilting his hat in recognition. "Captain Williams. To what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked hoping his sarcasm from earlier didn't bleed into the words for his own sake. When he locked eyes with the older man's brown ones he was met by a stare not so unfamiliar. Experienced, calculating, straight to business. A non verbal and pointed reminder to not cross the pirate captain. He met the challenge with his own confidence only tempered as to not get on the man's bad side. 

"A deal has been made between myself and Jones. You'll be considered part of the crew and will fill in for the member you shot and killed.  During this time you will not take a cut of any bounty we receive until the price on your head is paid in full." The captain responded. "You may discuss Jones's part of the deal on your own time with him." 

It didn't seem like he had much of a choice in the matter. Very well- he'd chose limited freedom to a cell any day. "Thank you" He said mustering up as much sincerity as he could and giving Alfred a side glance. 

Alfred gave him a faint smile quickly tilting his head to motion for them to depart, thanking his captain as he did so and turning to leave the cabin. Arthur spun on his heel but before he could take a step forwards William's voice rang out again. "Oh and Kirkland, if I hear any stray word about a mutiny that has passed from your lips. I'll take your tongue."

A small sly smirk threatened to etch itself across his lips however he was smart enough to keep himself straight faced. Of the same breed indeed. "I would never even consider doing such a thing" He responded turning his head to make eye contact with the one in charge. "Thank you for your mercy, Captain. I will serve you well." 

"You better. You're a three hundred dollar investment." 

---

Once they were back out onto the deck a peaceful silence fell between them, Arthur relishing in his new found freedom of sorts and Alfred undecided if he should interrupt the quiet. The sun had long departed by now, leaving the celestial bodies of the stars and moon to paint the night in light. The waves below reflected this light, swirling it in unpredictable patterns before being swallowed by the depths and replaced. The temperature had dropped a few degrees but neither seemed too affected by it. The silence was broken by Alfred who found himself uncomfortable with it. "What was being a cowboy like?" He finally blurted. 

Arthur looked at him startled out of his thoughts at the outburst. "Did the stories I told you when you visited with food not paint a good picture?"

"They did. I just wanted to know if you had more" Alfred responded embarrassed with himself, a  faint red painting his cheeks and the tips of his ears. "Sounds pretty fun." 

Arthur grunted graciously deciding not to comment on how red the other got.  He took a moment to think of his response wording it in a way as to not get too personal. "Fun isn't what I'd describe it as. It's hard work as many things are in life. You have to be observant, be able to think on your feet. A thousand pound animal isn't going to stop stampeding because you told it to. Then combine that with upwards of a thousand other animals of the same size and the horses you're riding on top of it. It definitely makes for a good excuse to always be on guard. But generally things didn't get too exciting. The only 'exciting' thing I could count on daily was the game of: will I get bit by a snake when I get off my horse to take a piss and die a few hours later? Or on a more rare occasion, if bandits would be stupid enough to try to rob us. The real fun happened once we arrived in town after a successful transfer of cattle. Once we arrived we had to load the cows into a train cart then we got paid. After going a few weeks without a bath or proper entertainment I'm sure you can imagine what happened at the saloons" the wink accompanying that statement  went unnoticed. "I'm sure you can relate to such sentiments out at sea yourself. Minus the snakes of course". 

Truthfully Alfred enjoyed hearing Arthur tell his stories. He'd get so enthralled as he talked about his past experiences, spoke with a passion that let Alfred know that Arthur had enjoyed the job. It was one of the times where Arthur became truly expressive, a little less on guard. When Arthur got going his words painted such clear imagery that Alfred hadn't needed to be there to feel like he experienced it. Admittedly as much as he enjoyed hearing him talk in this moment he got… distracted. He accidently ended up staring at his lips briefly, wondering how they'd feel pressed against his own then dismissing the idea and blaming it on the fact he hadn't had much company lately. He blinked shaking his head of any stray thoughts and cleared his throat. It caught Arthur's attention but when he didn't say anything the cowboy now turned pirate continued. 

"I worked in the northern plains. Montana actually. So it has taken me a while to get here. The local deputies and pinkertons had started poking around on a lead that someone matching Arthur Kirkland's description was in town. Some folk from the East must've recognized me while I was celebrating a successful drive. Upon seeing the unwanted attention I decided that frankly I have been chased enough to last a lifetime and thus my decision to come to Europe. Offered the merchant ship my gun if anything were to happen and some cash as well. However nothing is ever that simple clearly." 

He partially processed the others words, nodding along but was too distracted giving the other a once over to truly hear what was being spoken. The older man's attire alone stuck out now that he had been declared part of the crew. The Englishman had a white, tall crowned hat with a narrow brim that was curled upwards on the sides. He adorned a navy pullover shirt made of cotton with a black vest made of the same material. He also wore grey wool pants with an additional layer of fabric to reinforce the seams. Of course his clothing wasn't in pristine condition, various stains and the occasional stitch from where it had been mended littered the outfit. They'd taken away the black bandana that had originally been tied around his neck, fearful that it may be used as a weapon against one of the crew or himself. 

"Wait a minute Arthur. I'll be right back" Alfred chirped, turning to head underneath the deck and deeper into the ship. Arthur watched him go before turning his attention back to the ocean, focusing on the feeling of the breeze in his face and the sound of crashing waves that surrounded the ship. 

Alfred returned with his bandana in tow holding it out and offering it to him. Afterall with the freedom now granted if Arthur wanted to, he'd have better things to use against them than a bandana.  "You will probably need some new clothes more suitable for the sea. But for now we can't buy anything since we aren't in port and we technically aren't making anything off the next several exchanges-"

"We?"

"Oh right! I gave up my cut as well until your bounty is paid off and the credit makes a profit. Technically I promised them six hundred dollars so we're going to be living on some scraps for a while."

Arthur raised an eyebrow in suspicion and curiosity, cocking his head as he looked back to Alfred."Why go through all the trouble to save me?"

Alfred gave a disarming half smile upon sensing the others suspicion trying to prove he had no ulterior motives and a shrug. Sure he found him attractive but that was not why he saved him. "There's something about you I like. You're clearly clever, a hard worker and we needed a new member of the crew. And I think you have a story to be told. Would be a shame if it were to end prematurely." 

"Don't we all have a story to tell-" He murmured, shifting his body to lean against the closest mast of the ship and crossing his arms as he was securely balanced. "And you didn't take any of the crew from the merchant ship?" 

"We offered but they declined." 

Arthur gave a hmph of disbelief. Pirate's tended not to give people many choices. The two options usually consisted of join their crew or die which brought the next question to mind. "Are they fish food now?" 

"No, we let them go." Alfred responded. When Arthur proceeded to stare at him with his eyebrows raised for further explanation he continued. "Captain Williams tries to avoid casualties where they can be avoided. He also doesn't like to take people who are likely to turn tail at the slightest hint of freedom. Took a lot of convincing to get him to accept you for that reason. As for your job on the ship you'll have to learn how to rig the sails and some level of carpentry. If those aren't your thing perhaps you could help the doc out and learn from him- or maybe the cook." 

The older male took a minute to digest this information weighing the situation. He supposed it would've worked better for him if they had been killed. There would've been fewer loose ends, less mouths to talk if the wrong parties came looking. Oh well. "And for your information I do know some carpentry and my way around a needle. Ropes shouldn't be an issue either although you'll have to teach me any particular knots you use." 

"Good and no problem. Isaiah is the ship master. He can show you some duties and I'll also be helping out when I can. The others will also show you how we operate if neither of us are available.  We all have a part to play after all. In reality most of our time is spent on ship maintenance."

Arthur couldn't help but be curious."You're going to have to be more specific when you mention maintenance because frankly I have no idea what that entails."

 Alfred paused mentally counting off, his fingers moving from a curled position to straight as he counted with them before disregarding whatever he had been doing. "Cleaning the decks, checking rigging and ropes, checking for any potential leaks or holes and repairing them. You also eventually may get to make sure everything on the gun deck is properly stored and cleaned- just to name a few. Oh and did I mention cleaning bird shit off the deck?" 

"Sounds-" a pause and despite not trying to be rude he couldn't exactly color himself enthusiastic at the prospect "...delightful. When do I begin?" 

Alfred looked smug, probably happy that some of the more unpleasant tasks were going to be now dished out to the newest member of the crew. With a clap on the other's shoulder he chirped "Your duties start right now!". With that he began to back away towards the stairs leading to the lower decks. 

"Wait where are you going?!" 

"I'm going to sleep. Isaiah is at the stern. I'll see you in the morning!" 

"Where's the stern?!" Arthur called letting his frustration seep out through his words, scowling at the retreating pirate's back. "What does Isaiah look like?" 

"Guess you'll have to figure that out yourself. Goodnight Arthur!"

Cheeky bastard. He didn't even get to shave. 

---

Both their hands were calloused, jagged chunks carved out of them from one experience or another. The years had only added to the collection of scars and disfigurations. The black bandana that had first accompanied the cowboy-ex-outlaw-pirate was now draped over one of each of their hands, both using their free hand to knot the material and bind themselves together. Together, promising to watch over each other despite what altercations that could find themselves apart of. In life and death they'd take care of one another. 

A cheer arose from their spectators as mugs were risen and beer sloshed onto the floor which would promptly have to be scrubbed later. "How about that Mr. Outlaw. You're now properly married to a pirate however fitting that may be."

"Cowboy" Arthur corrected. "I prefer cowboy although, I suppose neither occupation is particularly civilized. And the correct term is matelotage." 

"He does learn! Would you look at that" came a playful quip from one of the crew members. 

"I've learned quite well. It's you who still gets confused when I rattle off cowboy terms at you." A flippant and well timed reply caused snickers to erupt amongst the band of people gathered around. 

Alfred decided to interrupt after chuckling to himself. "Arthur I don't think there's a single civilized thing about you" earning a playful eye roll in response. 

"I don't think either of us have ground to talk" Arthur hummed giving him a small smile. The newly wedded partook in the drinking activities and celebration for a little while until Arthur directed a suggestive and flirtatious wink towards his beloved, earning him a smirk. To further drive his intentions he gave a slight tug on their bound hands. "Boys, thank you for the celebration but I suggest you clear out of the cabins for a while. Enjoy your drinks!" 

---

Alfred found himself ahead of Arthur, deciding to clear some of the rooms up ahead, his gun raised as he did so. Upon entering one he was thrown off balance as someone barreled into him from a blindspot. He stumbled but caught himself, his body twisting to take the brunt of it as his back collided with the wall and he tried to throw off his attacker. They struggled for a brief moment until Alfred found himself a second too slow. A sudden crack filled the space as the weapon was brought down against his head. A sharp pain rattled his skull causing him to fall forward as the stranger stepped away. He nearly face planted onto the wooden floor only managing to distribute some of the weight with his hands, his jaw hitting the floor and causing his teeth to clack together. He helplessly watched his weapon clang as it hit the floor and bounced out of reach. He doubted it would be of much use to him anyway with the way his vision was doubled and the room was spinning. He let out a groan as everything slowly became bearable, rolling into his side to look up at who had ambushed him. 

His attacker stood over him, weapon drawn and pointing at him. Perhaps this was karma for being over confident. In a final act of bravado and defiance he stared at the other man, their gazes interlocked. His pain only manifested through a clenched jaw and partially squinted eyes, managing a cold but accepting smile. "You know I don't like killing civilians. If I were you I'd stand down." Whether the next unfolding of events was pure luck or divine intervention he wasn't sure. An echoing boom sounded from the hallway ripping through the relative quiet of the lower decks. His attacker slumped lifelessly and collapsed partially on him before he could scramble out of the way. He blinked, staring at the corpse before his attention was caught by approaching footsteps. 

"Unfortunately for you, I don't share such qualms" The familiar accented voice of Arthur sounded. 

Alfred scooted away from the body, a relieved smile tugging on his lips and letting his tense body now relax. Needing a reprieve from the close encounter he decided to diffuse the situation with humor. "Took you long enough. I got a smack to the head thanks to you" He said no malice or bite to his words just teasing affection. Feeling the adrenaline leave him and feeling safe with Arthur's presence he took a breath and leaned back, closing his eyes. 

"You're gonna get a smack on your arse if you keep it up" The other fired back, relief flooding his voice as he moving over him and crouched beside him to inspect the wound on his head. Deciding that nothing could be done here he placed a hand on the other cheek, encouraging him to open his eyes. "You need to get up Al" He murmured, standing up to a more appropriate height to help him up. He outstretched a hand expectantly. 

"That sounds kind of hot Arthur" He teased indeed, opening his eyes and taking his cowboy's hand. Once up he felt the others hand on his back to support him. He gave a grateful smile before wincing and running his hand over his left temple to see if there was any blood. Thankfully there wasn't. 

"We'll try it sometime if you'd like. But for now let's focus on the task at hand. Just because I'll get your cut if you were to die does not mean I want you dead. Let's get you back to the ship to be looked at by Johnson." 

"We need to-"

"The others have everything under control. You're going to the ship. End of discussion." 

Alfred decided not to waste the energy with arguing especially because Arthur was right. He took half a step, stumbling as his vision doubled again. At that Arthur pressed against his side and wrapped an arm around his shoulders for some extra support. "Thank you" he whispered, enjoying the others' warmth. His thoughts were interrupted by a gentle kiss to the right temple. 

"A reminder not to go too far ahead alone next time."

"Of course my love" He agreed. When they reached the doorway sunlight flooded Alfred's vision. He hissed squeezing his eyes closed upon finding a newfound sensitivity to the light. Arthur paused and shifted around a moment before he felt something pressed to the top of his head. He opened his eyes slowly, the sunlight limited by the narrow brimmed hat on his head. It was a little small but it would do. Alfred found himself grateful for the fact Arthur incorporated his old attire with a more seaworthy one. 

--- 

All Alfred knew was that the sensation of having Arthur over him, the other pinning his arms above his head while their lips captured each other's hungrily was addicting. No matter how many times they'd done it for the past few years, it always managed to thrill him to no end. The way their bodies arched into one another, lips worshiping and marking everywhere they possibly could. And afterwards basking in glory as they settled down from their escapades. Surely they realized that with the life they lead they sacrificed the longevity of it to do so. But they could at least enjoy each other until the end of it. 

[funtimebunnyblog]

Diamante d’Italia: Chapter 1

After his Father "generously gave" the teenager a whopping amount of money Josuke finds himself vacationing in beautiful southern Italy.

However, being the trouble magnet he is, he ends up getting caught in Famiglia affairs.

Being so far from his home and his friends, Josuke needs to make some powerful allies to help him out of this mess...

(Chapter 1: Culture shock)

"--and remember to-"

"Yes Mom. I know." Josuke sighed into the phone, rolling his eyes. "I've got everything on me. You know I can protect myself."

They'd had this exact same phone conversation at every other airport he had called from so far. By now the teenager had memorized it all and knew exactly what his Mother was going to say.

Standing in the airport of Naples Italy wouldn't make a difference.

"Ok. But just be careful Josuke. Italy is so far from here." She said over the background clatter. "And you don't even know any Italian."

There was a crackle over the phone as she sighed, he could hear the sounds of dishes clinking in the background followed by running water.

He almost had to plug his other ear to drown out the loud voice on the intercom so he could hear her talking.

"...I know Tonio."

"That joke was horrible, Josuke."

If there wasn't the sound of dishes still being done, he would've been sure his Mother had hung up on him.

There were no words exchanged for at least a full 10 seconds and with each passing second the teenager tried harder and harder to contain every giggle that tried to escape his lips, waiting with baited breath on her reaction.

The teenager couldn't hold in his laughter anymore, wheezing a little as he leaned on the glass wall of the phonebooth.

"I know." He cackled. "But it's kinda true. Tonio told me so much about Italy! It can't be that bad here..."

A change of scenery would do him good. Especially after all he had been through in the past little while with all that serial killer mess.

He had been daydreaming about this trip, this place, but most importantly; the cuisine, for almost a month now.

After his Father so generously "gave" him his wallet upon departure of Morioh, Josuke Higashikata decided it was time for him to see some of the world.

It was definitely time for a vacation and what better place to visit than the country with food that made Okuyasu and him squabble over every single morsel cooked and served to them by Tonio.

He earned a punch to the shoulder however from Okuyasu after telling him the news. His friend wasn't spiteful however and laughed, telling him that he could finally have Tonio and his fine chef skills all to himself while he was away.

Neither of them had really looked at "normal" food that same way after tasting fine Italian food so he couldn't think of a better place to go for some rest and relaxation.

He had also heard that Italy held some beautiful sights.

Josuke promised to bring him home a shitload of souvenirs anyways. He was also considering getting something for Koichi and his Mom back home.

There was another crackle over the phone along with the running water in the background suddenly being turned off, making it a little easier to hear the woman as she spoke.

"If you say so..."

It also made it easier to hear the undeniable concern lacing her tone however.

"Say, what time is it over there anyways Mom?" He questioned, mostly out of curiosity, but also for the sake of taking his Mothers mind off of any worries she held for him.

"Just after 5." She answered with a hum, the sound of a plug being pulled and a draining sink accompanying it.

"Oh wow!" He blinked, peering out off the glass booth to squint at the overly large clock of the airport terminal. "It's only 10AM over here."

"If you're going to call home, please do it around this time Josuke." She told him, a laugh lacing her voice as she spoke. "I wouldn't appreciate being woken up by the phone at 3AM."

The Highschooler laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head. He should probably write that down just in case he forgot, the last thing he wanted was to be screamed at by his Mother over the phone for waking her up in the middle of the night.

"Right..." he murmured. "Anyways. I should probably go now Mom. I'll call you from a Hotel or something tomorrow."

"Ok Josuke."

He could hear her hesitation to let him go in her voice alone.

"I'll be fine. I love you Mom. Talk soon!"

"I love you too."

He hung up the phone at last, a small smile gracing his lips.

Gripping the handle of his luggage tightly, he stepped out of the booth with his head held high.

He was worried about his Mother too of course. She was going through a lot too, especially when she was still grieving for his Grandfather.

However, once he was in possession of his newly aquired money (not stolen! Where would you get that idea?) He had given her a good portion of it and told her to spend the time he was away getting her nails done or treating herself in anyway she saw fit. She needed this little break as much as he did.

"Time to find a cab."

☆☆☆

Easier said than done.

Here he was on a sidewalk, finally into the City after nearly 2 hours of waiting for an open taxi to take him from the airport to the city, his pompador all in a stressful ruffle over the whole ordeal.

His eyes darted back and forth between the outstretched hand of the driver and the meter on the dashboard.

"120 000 Lira?!" He squawked at the cab driver, his aquamarine eyes going wide in their sockets as the man held out his hand before him.

Josuke wasn't exactly a mathematician, but he knew enough to know that amount was absurd! "Th-there's gotta be some mistake, sir! You only drove me to the edge of the city."

This was highway robbery (no pun intended), there was no way it could've been that much!

The taxi driver had rolled his eyes at him and told him otherwise, demanding he pay up or he'd drag him straight to the Police Officers who were standing idle near the Cab on the streetcorner.

Josuke peered into his wallet with a sigh from where he sat on the curb. Damnit. He'd have to think twice about taking another cab. He only had so much money to blow, necessary expenses like food and hotelrooms were his main priority, and he still needed a ticket home to Japan when all of this was over.

He'd just have to settle for walking the entire time he was here.

He tucked his wallet away safely, flicking out a comb and began to straighten out the poof of hair he so adored. He'd have to put some more hairspray in it later if things kept going like this, good thing he packed 8 whole cans.

His Lunchhour.

He stood up, grabbing his suitcase once more and keeping it close to his side.

"Well... I guess it's time to find a hotel." He mused. His thoughts were interrupted however by a punctuating growl of his stomach. He hadn't eaten much on the plane at all and from the position of the overhead sun, he could tell it was noontime.

"Ooh." He breathed, a hand moving to his stomach in surprise. "I'm running on empty..."

However, maybe it was better to ask for directions.

He supposed a Hotel would have to wait. What he really needed right now was a restaurant.

From all the stories Tonio told him about Italian cuisine and the entire culture behind it, he was sure it wouldn't be too hard to find one of those around here.

"Um- excuse me--" he tried to grab the attention of a passing man. The guy kept on walking without even giving him a side glance.

Another man approached him from behind and Josuke turned, stepping in front of him somewhat to gain his attention.

"Er... oh! Sir! A moment please, I'm--"

There went another one, very much like the first.

"Excuse me sir, could you tell me--" he started again. The man stopped in his tracks, nearly bumping right into Josuke.

"Ey! What gives?!"

"Outta my way, bastardo!"

The Highschool student barely had a chance to blink before the guy was right in his face, a fierce scowl pulling on his face.

If looks could kill, Josuke would be getting murdered in that moment.

The man grunted and shoved him further out of his way, balling his fists and grumbling to himself, too low for Josuke to hear, but the teen knew it was all in fluent Italian.

He held up his free hand in surrender, backing up and out of the way of the angry stranger.

"S-Sorry sir!" He practically squeaked. "I... I didn't mean to bother you!"

He rubbed his arm, a frown found its way to his face as he watched the furious mans back.

Sheesh. And here he thought he had been in a rough town back in Japan.

Maybe he should just start walking...

☆☆☆

He was starting to wish he took some language courses with Koichi in this years last term.

Or maybe he could've learned some basic words and stuff from Tonio, the man always seemed eager to share in the wonders of his culture after all.

Or maybe he could've not been an absolute dumbass and bought an Italian to English dictionary to use.

Or worse.

Josuke had been walking up and down the streets for nearly an hour, passing by buildings and signs galore, none of which he could read.

He was tempted to stop another stranger to ask what any of them meant, or even just plain ask where the nearest restaurant was, but he didn't want to get screamed at again.

Staring at the signs like a toddler who didn't know how to read but was trying made it all the worse.

"This is hopeless..." he grumbled, kicking at the sidewalk, sending a small stone bouncing down the white concrete.

He was actually contemplating calling his Mother again to ask her what he should do.

Maybe he could even call Tonio. Or Koichi. Or Okuyasu. Or his Nephew. Or fuck, ANYONE at this point.

Maybe he shouldn't have traveled alone and brought one of them along...

He had a feeling this was going to be a long day and he dug in his coat, whipping out his comb again. His pompadour was getting all ruffled again.

"Ei, tu."

He paused. Did someone... speak to him?

"Um... Hello?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "Did you say something?"

Frowning, he turned to locate the voice, finding himself facing an alleyway that lead off the street.

A figure stood there, leaned against the brick wall of a building, their eyes gleaming at him. There were others too, just two others, all of them looking at him.

The one closest to the alley entrance, a tall thinner male, looked him up and down, "Sei il ragazzo?" A question of some sort.

The one who spoke sported disheveled brown hair and clothes that were even more so, with strange sunken in eyes that seemed to hold a never ending stare. His two friends were not much different, they all had that same stare and it was locked firmly onto him.

Josuke frowned a little deeper, he didn't really understand what the man wad saying. Did he want something? Or maybe... was he trying to help him?

The Highschool student looked around before stepping into the alley, closing the distance between him and the group.

"Um... I'm sorry I don't understand." He flashed an awkward smile, looking between the three men hoping that someone could understand him or at least translate. "Can any of you help...?"

It sort of reminded Josuke of when he ate his Lunch at the neighborhood park back in Morioh.

The dogs that hung out around there would all approach him, then sit and watch, with their ears up and their backs straight, unblinking and expecting him to give them a piece of his sandwich.

He always thought it was a little creepy, but it was even creepier somehow to see it in a person.

The brown haired one pointed to the suitcase he held, "É questo?" That sounded like another question to him.

This was getting nowhere. He heaved out a sigh, throwing his hands up as he began to back away. "Sorry. I have no idea what you're saying... I-I really got to go."

The more he backed up, the more the blankness of stares seemed to disolve into... anger?

Yeah, suddenly these guys were looking pissed. All three of them were staring even more intensely into him, most especially the brown haired one.

"Prendetelo!" One of the others barked.

"Dacci le maledette droghe, cazzone!" The brunet man screeched and Josuke realized there was a fist coming for him. He stepped back quickly, the closed hand swooping loudly through the air, barely gracing his chest.

What was happening? Why were these men suddenly after him? Josuke barely had the time to consider the options of running away or trying to talk his way out of all of this mess before he was suddenly on the ground.

"Darlo a noi!"

They tried to pull the leather bag from his grasp and he pulled back harder, now full on clutching it to his chest as the fists now rained down on him.

Josuke couldn't even cry out. Everything was happening all at once. His thoughts were loud and his heartbeat was louder. The noise around him had gone to nothing but whitenoise. His only thought was to not let them take his suitcase.

And then... it all stopped. Just as quickly as it happened.

The teenager opened his eyes to find that all the kicking and punching had ceased on him. One of the men was on the ground and there was another person standing over them, yelling into his face.

But here he was. Defending a fucking stranger from a group of junkies.

Leone Abbacchio hated getting involved with common street fights. He hated it especially more when he was supposed to NOT be fighting someone today.

It was his day off after all. Bucciarati told him he could spend his time how he wanted it and he wanted some alone time.

All the Mafioso wanted to do was listen to his damn music and get some lunch when he noticed this damn idiot (obviously a tourist) trying to converse with the men.

'Just keep walking.' He tried to tell himself over and over, trying to pacify the unease building in him.

It wasn't his affair.

This was their problem.

He was a bystander.

He wasn't even in the alley.

He was on his way somewhere.

He shouldn't even give it a passing glance....

And then he watched the punk get knocked to the ground.

Now here he was, kicking the shit out of a damn dirty junkie.

Josuke winced at he the sound of a fist hitting hard against a nose, the crackle of bone filling his ears.

"FUCK OFF!"

One of the men who had been attacking him came up behind the silver haired figure and threw his arms around him in an attempt to pull him down.

Abbacchio didn't even flinch and hauled the man forward, bending so he came right over his head and smacked into the brunet who was holding the nose that was gushing with red blood.

He definitely owned up to his name then and there because to Josuke his gruff and booming voice was like the roar of a powerful Lion.

That was all it took. All three of them were clamoring to their feet and booking it down towards the other end of the alley.

It sort of reminded Josuke of that time he broke that seniors nose.

Thank God his hair was still ok though, after checking quickly he sighed in pure relief. That was truly what mattered to him, along with his luggage.

His eyes turned to his savior and he slowly got up from the hard ground, wincing as he did.

He was definitely going to hurt in the morning. He could already feel a bruise spotting on the center of his back.

"Th... Thank you." He spoke at last watching as the new stranger turned to face him at last. "I just wanted to ask for directions but I didn't know what they wanted..."

The duel coloured eyes of the man burned into him as he looked over him, making the high schooler start to sweat under the penetrating gaze.

"You... seem familiar." Abbacchio said at length. He had seen someone before with the same kinda face, he was sure of it. He squinted at the Highschool student as he wracked his brain for answers.

The teenager was sure of that. He was sure he would've remembered this man purely by the way he looked, let alone the strong and intimidating presence that radiated off him, if he had even glanced in his direction before.

Josuke blinked, his expression not unlike a deer staring into the headlights of an oncoming car.

"Um... we've never met before."

Abbacchio rolled his eyes. "Tch. No shit." He spat. "I've never seen you before either stronzo. You just seem kinda familiar."

Josuke winced slightly, averting his eyes to the ground lamely.

"Sorry."

He really hoped this guy could take a joke. He just got off the ground and didn't want to be thrown back down onto it.

He really was. For what exactly, he wasn't sure, but apologies always spilled from your lips in these kind of situations, regardless of whether you did something or not.

He broke off into an awkward laugh, shrugging as he struggled to meet the mans gaze. "I'm the only one I know who has such stylish hair like this so I don't know what would seem familiar to you."

"Whatever." The Goth finally said, shaking his head. "Judging by what just happened I can tell you're not from around here. You a tourist or something kid?"

Abbacchio folded his arms, looking him up and down again, making him painfully aware of more sweat beading on his neck.

This man was so hard to read to Josuke, kind of like his nephew in that way, he had no idea what the hell he was thinking.

"Oh sure am!" Josuke smiled brightly, a little more at ease. This guy was making some small talk with him, which was usually a step in a good direction.

A direction where he hoped he wouldn't get beat up and almost mugged again...

"I'm kinda on a vacation. I got some money and decided I wanted to see the world..." He rocked on his heels a little, studying the man before him just as much as he was him. "You live around here?"

"You could say that..." Abbacchio hummed, glancing back towards the street. "I don't exactly have a home but I live here."

"Oh!" Josuke had to refrain himself from covering his mouth after letting out that noise in surprise. He averted his gaze, absentmindedly scratching the back of his neck.

"Oh." He said, much softer this time, feeling very awkward. If only he had the ability to make the ground swallow him up. "I'm sorry...."

Leone offered no response.

"Do you like... have a place to sleep at least? Like at nights?"

"Yeah. I tend to move around a lot though." He answered vaguely. Best to keep all that extra information to himself. This brat didn't need to know the ins and outs of his life.

He nodded this time, because he did. He mostly slept at Bucciarati's house, whether upstairs in one of the guestrooms or on the mans couch downstairs.

Sometimes when out on missions, whether alone or with the others, he checked into a hotel (sometimes a Motel) and stayed there.

Other times he slept in the back of a van while on the road to or from said missions.

At least he wasn't drinking himself to death somewhere in the gutter anymore...

He turned his gaze back to Josuke who seemed a little more at ease hearing his words. He narrowed his eyes, "You're not.... in the Famiglia? Are you?"

Josuke blinked a few times. The.... what?

"Fam-eel-e-ah?"

That alone answered his question.

Who the hell other than a Mafioso sported a fucking pompadour?!

Raising one pointed eyebrow, he looked the kid over again. He never would've guessed he wasn't associated because he certainly dressed like a Mafioso.

What with that black coat adorned with those shiny golden hearts, not to mention the peace sign and the anchor as well, and that hair...

This twerp apparently...

Abbacchio huffed, waving a hand dismissively. "Nevermind. Just... watch yourself Kid. More importantly, watch your wallet."

Oh Christ! His wallet! He might've dropped it in that scuffle! Those bastards might've took it!

Josuke panicked, hands instinctively slapping his pockets in a frantic search. Ah! It was there! As soon as his hand found the bulge in his pocket, he let out a breath as relief washed over him like a warm tidalwave on the beach.

"Oh- yeah, yeah... of course." He breathed. "Th-Thanks for reminding me-" here he paused, his pale blue eyes blinking. "I never... got your name."

To his own surprise, Abbacchio complied.

"Abbacchio." He said. "Leone Abbacchio."

"Abbacchio..." Josuke tested the name out, bobbing his head as he idly scratched his chin. "Ha! Cool name. I'm Josuke Higashikata, I actually come from Japan."

The dawny eyed mans frown deepened as he contemplated telling him that his last name literally just meant "lambchop", a far cry from "cool" if you asked him, but he thought better of it.

Yeah. There was no way in Hell Abbacchio was going to try and take a crack at repeating that last name. He'd be there all day.

Just "Josuke" would have to do.

"Japan, huh?" He said aloud, more to himself than Josuke, stroking his chin in thought. "I hear the streets are much nicer there..."

The events of the past couple of months suddenly came flooding back all at once to Josuke. How he and his friends had been attacked left and right, going against all odds, all on a search to hunt down their towns serial killer.

The blaring siren of that Ambulance still haunted him in his sleep and he woke up in a cold sweat each time there came the sound of a head being popped each time it replayed in his head.

He laughed a little, forcing a smile on his face as a hand swept through his hair. "Yeah... you could say that."

Now desperate to change the subject, he decided to steer the conversation to something much lighter. Something that didn't make him remember a massacre.

Or a hand-fetishing serial killer getting his head squashed like a grape.

"You've... got quite the fashion sense." He commented, pointing to the mans open coat lined with laces and purple lipstick maybe a little rudely. "I like your eyeliner."

Leone hardly batted an eye (a well lined eye at that) at his words. If anything, he was surprised the kid didn't outright say anything like "ARE YOU A GOTH?!"

He was quite used to that one, even if the answer was yes it was still irritating.

Besides... that one little girl on the bus that time told him he looked pretty. And that was enough for him.

Or there was always the "Why are you wearing makeup? You're a MAN!"

Now that one always made him fucking furious. Just because he was "a man" didn't make any damn difference. Makeup was to make you look good so it was for everyone.

"Thanks." He huffed. Though his voice hadn't lost any of that gruffness, he truly was thankful for a genuine compliment. "I like your coat."

He wasn't quite like Koichi however. The silver haired teenager thst only came up to his hip wore his heart on his sleeve everywhere he went.

Josuke, very unlike Abbacchio who seemed indifferent to it all, blushed at the praise. His friends always told him he was very expressive and that was true.

When he was happy he walked with bounce in his step, when he was sad it all came out in tears and when he was angry... oh... he was told the sight wasn't very pretty.

"Ah, thanks. It's my school uniform, I really like it."

Here Abbacchios eyebrows shot right up, a frown twinging at the corners of his mouth. A school uniform? This kid must have been living some kind of high life, or maybe at least went to a pretty decent school, if this was just a plain old uniform.

He pursed his lips, the punk kind of reminded him of a stand-user. He had a hunch.

"I see..." he hummed, folding his arms across his chest. "You really are still just a kid then."

Bucciarati often said that stand-users (natural or otherwise) tended to gravitate towards one another. Like "strings of fate" or some cliché sounding shit.

But maybe it was possible. This kid wasn't a Mafioso... but he could very well have powers.

Like lightning striking, Josukes expression changed again. His eyebrows went together and his lips into a sort of a pout.

"I'm 16." He told the man, trying to sound as rough and tough at least as half as this stranger was (Abbacchio quirked an eyebrow, looking completely unfazed at his attempt however, probably because he just watched him get beat up). "Besides. I think I'm pretty mature..."

"I won't call you a kid if you don't call me an old man. Deal?"

This kid was starting to kinda sound like Mista. However if the punk started spewing shit about how the number 4 was unlucky, he would get as far away as possible.

He half chuckled (it was more of an exhale), coloured lips quirking somewhat into a smirk.

Josuke shrugged, uncrossing his arms as his lips pulled into a smirk of their own, cocking an eyebrow at the other.

"Hmm, depends. How old are you?" He questioned, almost playfully. The man must have been at least approaching his 30's but he wasn't sure.

"Well into my 20's." Abbacchio grunted, keeping his exact age number vague to the young teen. "But I've seen more shit than other people do in a lifetime."

For all he know he really could be an old man. He had white hair after all and certainly had the gruffness of an older man.

Maybe he was hiding some wrinkles under that makeup or something?

Only in his 20's? Jeeze... he believed that last part. Most especially when the dawny eyes suddenly locked onto his, staring at him with all seriousness.

"Listen to me, I don't really care what the Hell you do, but when you get out of school... stay away from the bad stuff. You hear me?"

Josuke swallowed, his mouth now felt way too dry, and he nodded to the man almost knowingly. He had been through some bads too... however, he couldn't help but wonder how much similarities there were between him and Abbacchio.

Leone huffed quietly, giving the kid one more solemn nod, before turning on his heel and quietly going on his way down the alley, out towards the street.

The teenager watched him go, feeling painfully out of place all of a sudden, like a puzzle piece that had been jammed into the wrong spot.

"Uh- hey!"

He didn't even realize that he had called out until Abbacchio halted in his tracks, turning to look at him with a deep frown.

Josuke fidgeted on the spot, stuffing his hands in his pockets to avoid fumbling with them out in the open and look somewhat composed under the older mans stare.

Once again, Leone Abbacchio found himself feeling surprised.

"Uhh..." he cleared his throat, trying to focus his thoughts clear enough to speak without stuttering.

"This might sound kinda weird but -uh... you wanna... like grab a coffee or something?" He smiled sheepishly at the man whose expression didn't change. "I mean, you just kinda saved my skin back there and you seem pretty cool. I don't have anybody traveling with me and... we could like... talk more? Ah- only if you don't mind!"

Ah, fuck it. He had already gone out of his way.

Normally when he was out and about and people were forced to interact with him in any way, shape or form, they tended to want to get as far away as possible, as quickly as possible.

Hell, he had people practically jump out of his way sometimes when he was just walking down the street.

Plus, he was getting hungry.

He nodded to Josuke.

Josuke was now jogging up to him, the man swore he saw stars in the teens eyes to match his bright smile.

Tonio definitely didn't tell him that part about Italy...

He wasn't even sure if he had even been that long here in Italy.

Josuke did his best to keep up, Abbacchios steps were long and deliberate making him quite fast for a man who was just taking a stroll, keeping just a little behind him to avoid bumping shoulders with the people on the streets.

Abbacchio started down the alley again, waving him to follow.

"Comrades, huh?" He laughed a little. "What? You in a gang or something?"

It was meant to be a joke. Something to get his newest companion to roll his eyes and give a half-hearted chuckle. Josuke felt his stomach become as heavy as a brick when Abbacchio swiveled his head to look at him, his white hair flinging slightly over his shoulder as he stared him in the face.

The teen wondered briefly if his new ally would suddenly beat him up like those dealers tried to do and he gulped, preparing to turn tail and run as fast as he could down the street.

The former policeman frowned deeply. Did this stronzo know nothing about the mean Italian streets? The Mafia? Of fucking course he was in a Gang, did he think he was just a streetwalking freak that kicked the shit out of druggies and junkies alike for fun?

Abbacchio leaned closer, his expression radiating all seriousness.

"S-Sorry..." he muttered somewhat lamely, his voice so quiet Abbacchio probably wouldn't have heard him if he weren't so close.

Any idiot would know the true meaning to that answer and Josuke didn't consider himself an idiot.

The man grunted in response and simply kept walking, no more was said as Josuke continued to followed him down the street to this supposed spot.

On the bright side of things... he now reminded him even more of his nephew Jotaro.

Even if it wasn't in a good way...

More importantly, he was finally going to get something to eat.

[tamiddyinyourcity]

8:57pm.

How's it going?

Thursday, February 20th of 2020.

Happy 02/20/2020.

Get crunk wit dit. :)

Anyway.

What's going on?

I slept the entire morning. Yay. :)

I got cold Chipotle. Microwaving a chipotle salad that is slathered in sour cream and guac..... is difficult. The lettuce is soggy and hot now. Its not fun.

I am so drained from several uber experiences gone badly (the rude one, and a guy who literally drove past my location instead of parking, and instead of doing a u turn or circling around, cancelled the ride....) + the awkward "comedy show" i spent so much money on, just to hate, aaaaaand several other things... that i feek exhausted.

If I wanna drink my worries away, I gotta.... ahem.... find a way to re-obtain my favorite wine again. A bad day and an empty, too soon finished bottle of wine that cannot erase a bad day, has no real use to me.

The guy I want to do nothing but lay with and vibe with and fuck and date is sadly gone from my life. Its sad. In any other dimension or reality, as if my life is a choose your path adventure game, maybe reality would be different. But, I'm pretty sure there's nothing I could've done, that wouldn't have been enabling mistreatment for the sake of staying with someone who wasnt ready for a relationship anyway. (Like.... the bar was within reach, and they chose to not even try. Amaaaaazing.)

And I just feel...

Hopeless.

Is it really hopeless for me, or do I just feel unsure of what to do?

.....

Yeah. I kinda do.

....

I do wanna go out more. 5 free days a week. I can see other people, travel, explore, freestyle....

I finally have a decent amount of money saved, too.

So I don't have any reason to be afraid.

Just.... not prone to risk taking these days.

.....

Yeah.

.....

Hard to explain.

Alright; the big two problems on my mind:

All of my laundry needs to be done. But due to unfortunate circumstances, may or may not be in some disrepair. Do I wanna cough up 80 to 200 dollars for someone else to clean it; or deal with two huge bags of clothing by myself?

Patrick. :)

So....

I guess for the clothes, I did try to get my laundry done sooner. My mom chastised me for not asking her for help. (Since she never genuinely helps; and usually whatever she does leads to her threatening me or something along those lines.)

So when she swore up and down that I was foolish for trying to go it alone instead of asking for help, she ended up not doing my laundry, which she said would get done "that very weekend"..... ended up being left undone for maybe 2 and a half weeks later. Before she eventually told me the truth, that she couldn't afford to get it done as promised.

THIS is why I don't ask for help. Why leave me on hold for two weeks before finally being honest? Make it make sense, my friend.

And now not only has my laundry situation upgraded from "pretty damn severe but not unfixable" to "i dont even wanna open the laundry bags", but..... its been even longer since then. (Due to me working two different jobs, and not having the time, coins, or resources to do a load of laundry that weighs about as much as I do.)

Hard to go out and feel good on dates if I can't even wear my favorite sweaters, lingerie, or feelgood jeans. I don't wanna show up to a date with my ratty coat on, or my grey sweatpants. I want to look like I do on a normal basis; ridiculously hot.

I'd much prefer to be ridiculously hot... in clean and matching clothes that would fit my color tone... yknow?

.....

The horrors of those two oversized laundry bags may kill me. But it may be worth it to see if whatever mildew from my last failed laundromat visit even exists, or, if I just imagined it all in my head.

I can:

Deal with all the terror myself, since I don't like relying on anyone else. Plus, imagine paying 80 to 200 dollars, just for them to return your clothes uncleaned..... i dont wanna risk that shit.

Just recognize that I have a decent amount of money saved, and get them to clean only ONE of the big bags. If they do well, then great. If they fail, just write a Yelp review and pray that their business gets their shit together someday.

That seems doable. :)

Cool. No more sleeping in, feeling like I've only got two miserable options to deal with. That feels good. Thinking of a plan. Executing it too. Awesome. :)

And... the latter.

....

The phone call the other night.

I don't know why I called him. There's not much to explain my actions, other than "I felt the need, and did".

Aaaand instagram, stalking me, as usual, randomly went from recommending me creepily relatable posts like "don't wait up on a man to tell you whether you are or are not the shit", "whatever you're not changing, is a choice", and "a relationship where your texts go unanswered while everyone else's is, is because he's trying to get rid of you! Set yourself free sis!"

To some mildly inspiring, "Make that text. Call that person. Tell them how you feel. Curse them out. Cut them off. Love yourself. Tomorrow is never promised", post that made me, in a "am i crazy? or am i not crazy?", state of mind, go, "That sounds like a GREAT idea."

And it was.

Once I shift my mindframe from the typical "right versus wrong", or "smart versus stupid", then, life gets simpler, really.

Since is it right or smart to call up an ex the day after you basically got into an altercation on their front porch at midnight?

One would say its not.

But did it end up resulting in something productive, or mind opening, and the ends justify the means?

Just maybe.

....

He was hesitant, obviously, at first. Conversation eased more. Once I decided to push through my nerves, or going "I already know the answer to that" with the questions I asked him, (for clarity, since he lies sometimes,) then.... it got easier.

All I remember is that he did say how the letter felt.... what was the word he used? "Romantic on purpose?" (It was. I literally wrote a whole paragraph explaining why I l-worded things about him. If anything, I would question his sanity if a whole paragraph describing how I enjoy his eyes, smile, and more was taken as.... "platonic", you see?)

I told him that was the point.

But also made it clear that it was specifically a letter where I didn't hold back on how I felt, and told him all of my feelings, before ending our dynamic as a whole.

It makes sense. Like, idk, I'd want him to know how I felt. Honestly. If I just ghosted him, it would haunt me for years, never at least telling him how manipulative and maladaptive he gets under stress. And it would also haunt me, if I ghosted him, and he saw it as a "Oh, she must have found someone else", or a "hmm, she probably wasn't into me, oh well."

No, fam. It was me leaving, since despite my feelings for you, I wasn't gonna stay on a sinking ship with holes in it, and being the only one making the repairs.

I wasn't gonna submit myself to that.

And....

I don't know. Consider the letter like a "13 Reasons Why", but without the death. A note that tells you all of my feelings about you, but I simply end my time in your life, and not my own life.

So, yes. I wanted him to know that I liked his eyes, our movie talks, his smile, his skin, the late nights and the dates we had. And everything. (Oh cool, the tears are flowing right now.)

I wanted him to know that I would have never done half of what he's done to me without caring for my feelings, and how disappointed I was by.... our several moments.

And overall, that I remember him as a good boyfriend.

Even if I went home that night thinking, "Fuck this dude"..... I liked him. I'd much rather him have a physical copy of a letter that told him I would see him as a good guy post breakup, than some of the ill things that went down recently being the last memory between us ever had.

But, cest la vie i guess.

....

Yeah.

...

I guess he got a little in his feelings that night.

He asked me what I felt was missing in our most missing attempt with our relationship. Something about the way he said it... had me on edge. Yknow, in the same way a teenager might get nervous if a cute girl randomly comes up to them saying, "You got a girlfriend?"

Since just like that, I was thinking, "Why would you want to know? Unless you have some sort of motive, that I am unaware of?"

I don't recall most of the conversation, but my intuition was right.

He admitted that sending me that text about wishing he did kiss me, was since he reciprocated the feelings in my letter.

(Entering stage from the left, is chest pains.)

I HAVE ANGINA

Cool. Odd. But. Alright. I didn't know how to react, kind of needed him to elaborate a few times. "Can you rephrase that please? I don't wanna.... interpret that the.... wrong.... waaaaaay.... yknow?"

And yep, same answer. Oh, dear.

Anyway. I then just proceeded to raise an eyebrow, (not like he could see, as it was a phone call,) and ask why he, REPEATEDLY, the night I asked to talk to him, said he had no romantic feelings for me.... whatsoever. He claimed he didn't remember that. And me, not being a fan of repetitive gaslighting, said word for word each moment he, both provoked and unprovoked, told me he lacked any remaining romantic attraction for me.

(It's not super surprising that he, yet again, lied to me. And definitely not surprising to lie about having feelings for me. He's done that before, on multiple occasions... dude.)

He said it was since he felt like he was obligated to make what he believed to be the right choice, and to put aside whatever romantic ambiguity he had to stay strong and not agree to a relationship.

I may not like his defeatist attitude, but you gotta admit; he's got mental strength. Unlike me, who sent him a three page letter, since breaking up face to face would have shattered me like a mirror. :)

He's very Lawful Neutral; even if he's not sure what he does is always great emotionally, he sticks to what he believes is a plausible route. (I wouldn't mind this, if he actually connected emotionally enough to EXPLAIN his actions, before solidifying them. Would have solved many problems in the past if he was honest for once.......)

And then proceeded to inquire what I felt was missing, from our fwb dynamic.

Well...

From his perspective, he got the best of both worlds. Got to have pussy and sex, without limiting himself to me. Got to cuddle or joke around, without fully commiting, or having to help pay fora meal. He got to enjoy his friendship and the peace of his parents not knowing I existed, while still occasionally remembering to text me back..... He could meet me for emotionless sex, and a mild hangout, and live life satisfied that way.

Of course.

Since if he goes in with the mindset of "Cool, sex, and still hanging out. As long as I ignore her messages sometimes, and stay emotionally distant enough, then hey, i can have exactly what i want; something emotionless and enjoyable, with no strings attached."

But to a girl who goes in, with her highest of hopes being "maybe we might end up dating again", and the lowest level of expectations, like any FWB, being "i still want someone i can be close with, enjoy without guilt, and open up to while relying on as a friend."

Theeeeeen..... she will be miserable, having sex and getting her texts ignored for hours, or even days. Not having someone to hang out with, unless its a hyper specific "we need to hang out when none of my family is home, none of my friends surprise me with a hangout, and i still intend to be as open and inviting as a locked door toward you whenever we talk." Sitting like a foot apart in a bed. No opening up, no joking about our sex lives, no talking about his friends. And no actual dates.

Then its just..... pathetic.

Hell, it was just becoming a sad booty call level situation anyway.

I hate booty calls. I told him when we first EVER started having casual sex in the first damn place.... I like intimacy on several levels, and booty calls are the least satisfying ones.

Who do I look like, showing up to a guy's house for nothing but a weak bang, no real foreplay or aftercare, and a quick kick out? You got the wrong bitch, fam.

Naaaaah. And not a fan of FWB dynamics with extreme rules, hostilities, or blurred lines.

When we first had our original FWB dynamic? It was lit. We could have sex, and ten seconds later, just straight up cuddle, talk about things to try, then watch Murder Party and critique it's edginess as it was playing. I could be the big spoon and just vibe, and not think it was weird.

It was nice. Like an unspoken, "you're like, not my boyfriend and you're probably gonna go back to college someday soon, buuuuut.... you're also fine as hell, so lets just cherish what we got."

So with the cool closeness we had before, its hard to do that..... now. Post relationship ending.

Dude is too scared to sit closer than 7 inches within me, and its basically the "five feet apart, 'cause they're not gay", meme.

Texting was depressing, and its a whooole specific type of trauma of mine to even dive into rn. (I don't like feeling useless or made to wait for extremely long amounts of time, due to several relationships that seemed positive ending from a lack of communication and with hostile ghosting. Whoohoo, traumatic relationship endings that made me question my value to those around me! Yay! Whoohoo!)

And it does eventually hurt, when every time you meet a guy with the intentions of even a platonic hangout, he looks glum, and says he is feeling... (insert big word for "sad" here.)

"Somber"/"Melancholy."

"What's that mean?"

"Oh. It means, like, its a big word for sad."

"Oh. Why are you sad?"

Then, he went quiet. Or would mention guilt, and brush it off, i suppose.

Angst. :/

So if my standard for an FWB is "i want someone i can have really good sex with, chill with, talk to without a care in the world since i am not dating them, and can be casual yet vulnerable with".....

And its a FWB that makes me feel un-chill, that i cannot hang with, (and not in the intimate or casual way id want,) and have to walk on eggshells in conversation with...

Then it's not the hyper sexy, vivacious, amazing dynamic I want from someone.

Did I like him? Yeah, I don't write letters to people unless they meant something to me. You think I want a motherfucker to have ANYTHING with my fingerprints on it at my house, post breakup? Fuck no.

God, this quote better not be used in some sort of documentary someday..... its a joke, people.

But, why stay? I could tell he was never gonna date me or make a move. He wasn't gonna be the type of FWB I could lounge around with, my legs strewn over their lap, talking about my life with, or make out with to Netflix. He wasn't a guy that I was unemotionally attached to, to ask about the other people they bang, or their fun sexual experiences with. (Plus, i was his only one.... I still really appreciated that, ngl.)

There was too much history, and not enough future.

If Valentines Day didnt happen, who knows? Maybe I'd have settled for it. But it did. And it made me go, "This man is going out of his way to keep me at arms length at all times from his life, and will keep pushing me away. Make it easier for the both of us and leave."

So, I left.

.....

I'm still mad at him for texting.

No response was what I needed. It would have shown me I meant little to this guy.

And sending me a message that he wanted to kiss me means nothing, if he's not the type to come to my house, call me to come outside, and kiss me like its a shitty romcon movie, that I would watch, knowing how gushy and kitschy that it was.

I made it clear who I was.

I'm a take it or leave it sort of person, when it comes to stressful relationships.

I say what I'm looking for. And either I'm taken, or I'm leaving. Easy.

So either I was gonna leave his porch that day with cut ties, or leave with my previous title of his crush back.

And its like....

His response gave me both, and yet, also neither.

What good does that do for me?

He lied to me the night he could have told me that. Claimed he didnt want to "annoy or confuse me further".

......Why tell me now, anyway? Not like I was annoyed, but I definitely just..... Gosh. Why make me blush with the knowledge of you reciprocating feelings, just for my face to stay hot with irritation at you being unwilling to ever give things a shot?

What was the fucking reason, man?

......

11:01pm.

Time flies, when you're staring at a screen, venting about old relationships.

....

He just....

I get his reasonings for things. But, logic doesn't work as the only answer for every single situation.

If I used logic that night, it would have resulted in me never calling him, and inevitably doing something foolish one way or another. Not gonna elaborate. :/

But, I didn't. Something in me went, "Just call him, nothing to lose."

And all I lost was a little bit of sense, but still gained knowledge.

Useless knowledge, but important. Since nothing was more confusing than, "You literally have no reason to be in this porch, why do you insist on staying with me and talking despite the huge conversation ending event that happened?"

And of course, "Why would you want to kiss a girl, that you have no romantic feelings for whatsoever? Even if she offered, you rejected it. Why suddenly want to kiss a girl you don't like, in any way, one last time?"

The answer he originally told me was "i dont know", or him deflecting. Or acting fuckboyish, as a cover-up. :)

And the real answer was, "I reciprocated the feelings you said you had for me in your letter, but still, felt it better to pretend I wasnt interested to avoid starting up something difficult or confusing for us."

He's.... an odd mix of intelligent, but, not always wise. Him lying so much just ruins my faith in him, which is really sad.

Since yknow, it sucks knowing a person no longer feels able to open up to me any more.

(Cool, tears flowing again.)

But whatever. He lied, and it made him look like a huge asshole that night. All I could think was, "He must have only said that to spite me. Either he purposely wanted to have me pine for him; or he's refusing to admit he likes me, and is just being a dick about it, to hurt me even more by getting my hopes up for something that will never fucking happen."

......

Imagine if he were honest that night.

........

You probably cant, since i havent told you all that happened. And probably wont. But, maybe it wouldve gone differently.

Still the same answer of "he likes me and is hiding it", but instead of him leading me on just to shoot me down again as some sort of weird revenge tactic for trying to breakup over letter after pulling on his heart strings, (some men do that, to avoid being the one left alone with the aching heart, and to hurt the other person for their own confidence gain. Like how some girls when after a break up, try to "flex on their ex" by getting ridiculously hot, posting hella date photos online, and doing The Most to hope their ex ends up the one hurting and losing out on potential romance instead of them....)

Instead of him doing that, it was less him trying to be a dick, but moreso him being a pussy.

"This girl just told me she loved me and DIPPED? fuck her, ima tell her i wanted to kiss her, then pretend i didnt mean it. Show her how it feels!", is much more hostile than, "I hold feelings for you as well, but, am too nervous at the potential of us dating and working out."

Still scummy as the latter.

Not gonna lie.

So, i am pissed for that reason as well.....

Even before the incident happened that night, it still says the truth; he needlessly told me he wanted to kiss me, and showed me emotions, that he never would have shown me before the letter had been exchanged to him.

But of course when back in his life, he takes it all back.

That's.... so fucking lame.

I hope he knows it is. And.... god, its like he somehow always chooses the most logical, but least easy, answers when it comes to me.

(Until it actually comes to "just fucking leave Tamia", i guess.)

Sigh.

Alright, done writing for now. He hasn't texted me back. I'll take that as a signal. Peace. :/