#once again my dad saved me though and brought my spare key to unlock the car

[daisymaycries]

It happened again, Jellybeans 🫠

[floofsta-x]

Les Feuilles Mortes ✿ [M]

genre;; realistic fantasy (yes, I know that’s a contradiction). Plant spirit!Kihyun, plant dad!Hyunwoo

pairing;; Son Hyunwoo / Shownu x Yoo Kihyun [Showki], Mentions of side Hyungkyun

plot ;;

The sight of the three tiny, wilted sprouts in the window of the antique store pricked at Son Hyunwoo's heart. Little did he know that this dying plant was much more than it seemed...

⚠️ warnings;; be prepared for a feels trip y’all--this has one-sided pining, some cute fluffy/slightly smutty moments, heartbreak, and ultimately major character death

words;; 15,385 (15k)

author’s notes;; soooooooo yes. This fic was a feels trip for me to write. It was the second of @shinigamibutterfly’s three prompts for the @mxficx Spring Fling Fantasy fic exchange. (I think I’ve tagged the right person...if I haven’t let me know. ://) I absolutely fell in love with this idea! I hope you enjoy!

“Wait. Say that again. You want...what?”

“One of the plants in the front window.”

Though he chuckled good-naturedly, the man behind the old, scratched countertop was clearly confused and in disbelief. His eyebrows rose, and he shook his head. “Sir...I’m sorry, but they’re display pieces, there for atmosphere, you know? I’m not sure if I can give them to you.”

It was a chilly autumn afternoon. Though the wind outside was frigid, the sun kept everything inside the small, shoddy antique mall warm. There weren’t many shoppers wandering around today. Those who passed wrapped themselves tighter and spared no second glance. So, understandably, it had been slow and boring. Well, up until now.

“Please? I’ll pay,” the customer pleaded and proceeded to name off a price that was a tad high for a potted plant. Truly struck dumb this time, the employee, a veteran manager of the store named Seungho, shook his head a bit. Also, he took the opportunity to glance the man across the counter over again. He was young and strong, with a handsome face and lithe body. From the way he carried himself and the circumference of his biceps, it was clear he took pride in himself and his fitness. So, why had a few leaves and some dirt piqued his interest? Others of his age and type would be out doing more masculine things, and not appraising decorative flora in store windows. That was something reserved for old ladies and other crazy people. Tree-huggers, maybe. However, he was here asking, and it was clear that he meant it; the only way to describe the look in his eyes was plaintive.

Of course, Seungho’s first instinct was to say no, but something stopped him. Hesitating, he sighed. In all reality, it didn’t matter. Money was money, and who was he to deny such a fervent plea? If the boss really wanted to, he could just buy another plant with the funds from selling this one. “Alright, alright.” Grabbing the keys to the display case from their peg, he led the customer back up to the front and unlocked the enclosure that looked out onto the street. After stepping around some of the displays, knick-knacks clustered around, he made for a large, healthy Peperomia near the middle.

Just as he was reaching for the gold foil pot that contained its roots, however--a tapping from behind him made him stop. When he turned, Seungho met the eyes of his customer, who frowned a bit and shook his head. “No?” After a few more attempts at picking up different plants resulted in the same thing, the manager resorted to pointing. A cast iron plant? Dieffenbachia? Philodendron? Anthurium? Each time, the customer frowned a bit and scrunched his eyebrows together.

Finally, it seemed that he had enough, and he poked his head into the space. “No, no, I mean the small one...on the end.”

Somehow, Seungho instantly knew the very thing he was talking about. That plant? Surely, this was all a joke. He made his feet move, walking over to where the row ended. There, behind a big lamb’s ear, was a tiny pot and plant, no bigger than the palm of his hand. The poor thing was dying, if not already completely dead, its thin shoots tan, and brittle leaves drooping sadly. He picked it up and gestured in the customer’s direction. “You’re offering almost forty thousand won...for this?”

A laugh flew from the customer’s mouth, and his face lit up. “Yep, that one. No tricks, I promise.” Without a moment of hesitation, he reached into the back pocket of his jeans and drew out a leather wallet.

The employee’s eyes grew wide. “W--wait. No, it’s okay. I--I’ll let you have it for free.” He sighed, and made his way out, handing over the little pot. “The boss was telling me I should get rid of it. Honestly, I don’t see what you’d do with a dead plant.”

“Oh, no, it’s still alive,” the younger replied confidently. It fit into his large, gentle hands almost perfectly. He gave a handsome grin and brushed one of the stems with a finger. “Just needs some care, that’s all.”

By this point, the shopkeeper believed that this guy was simply crazy. He shook his head and gave a small sigh. “Even if you’re right, you’d have to be a miracle worker to get it to grow. Probably be better off planting something else in there, like a cactus.”

“I have a way with houseplants. Maybe I am what this little guy needs.” The man chuckled. “Are you sure you don’t want the money? I’d gladly pay--”

“No, don’t bother. It was bound for the trash, anyway.”

“Thank you so much, sir.”

“My pleasure. Enjoy the rest of your day, and feel free to come back if something else interests you.” As the customer turned, the employee gazed at his wide back and thick arms. They were a direct contrast to how he was handling the plant. He was gazing down at it almost reverently, and he shifted it to one palm, moving to cup the top with the other.

What a strange young man.

Son Hyunwoo leaned into the glass of the door, pushing it open with his shoulder. The bell overhead gave a merry ding, but the fierce fall wind overpowered it in a second. Boy, the gale was quite strong today; it could carry a smaller person away. Days like this made the young man grateful for his broad frame. Sheer force pushed him along. Heaven forbid, it might also cause him to lose his precious cargo. Tenderly, he cradled the small terracotta pot in his hands, holding it close to his chest. Every once in a while, he took a glance down at it. Three slender, brown stems poked up from the dry dirt. The tiny shoots looked like they could break at the slightest touch.

If he was to be completely honest, he couldn’t even explain to himself why he’d picked up this plant. Maybe it was how small and sad it looked, or how it was so different from the other, healthier potted greenery in the shop window. If he’d tried harder, he might have resisted the urge to save it, but that apparently wasn’t what the fates had in mind. After staring for a bit too long, he'd stepped inside and approached the man at the desk. Perhaps it was force of habit.

Yeah, yeah, Hyunwoo knew he didn’t look the type. He was twenty-four, a freshly-graduated university student, and finishing up an internship at a marketing company. In his free time, he liked to jog, though he didn’t have quite as much stamina as he used to, when he played on a city championship-winning club football team. Every day at six am, he hit the gym, pumping iron for an hour before going to work. Though he was proud of his strength, most of the routine was solely to keep up old habits and cherished friendships (He quite enjoyed the company of Lee Hoseok, his friend from high school and fellow gymaholic). When Hyunwoo was home alone and didn’t have responsibilities to attend to, he read, danced, and sang. Most considered these things to be feminine or weak. He reveled in them, though, and could care less what other people thought of his hobbies.

As it turned out, another thing he loved was taking care of plants. This wasn't the first time he had brought a particularly neglected specimen home with him. Hyunwoo had a collection of greenery rescued from doorsteps, living rooms, shop windows, and even a bar or two. Ever since he was a kid and helped his grandma keep an indoor garden, he had a soft spot for anything that grew out of the dirt. She passed away during his second year of university, and soon after, he'd obtained his first brown-spotted cast iron plant at a friend's party. Everyone thought he was drunk when he asked if he could take it home, but that wasn’t it; he hadn't even had a beer yet. The owner of the place gave him permission, and after that, he’d wanted to get out of there straight away. Hyunwoo carried it back to his house, watered it faithfully, and pruned the most wilted leaves. Within a month, it was flourishing proudly in his entryway. There was something about tending to plant “friends” that put him at ease. Also, this was his own way of remembering his sweet Nana.

The longer he stayed on the street, the more the itch to get off of it intensified. Glancing both directions, Hyunwoo broke into a half-jog and hurried across the asphalt to his car, parked nearby. As he reached into his jacket pocket for his keys and popped the door of the sedan open, he had to fight the draft. It caught and tugged on everything--the car door, his jacket, even his nose and eyes. Hyunwoo was sure that his hair would be messed up majorly after this, but that didn’t really matter, as long as the plant was ok.

It felt like an eternity passed, but at long last, he was able to duck in and pull the door closed. Leaning his head back and closing his eyes, Hyunwoo sighed in relief. Though the wind still battered the sides of the car, he and his new acquisition were safe from it. A small smile graced his lips when he peeked between his fingers once more and saw that none of the stems had broken. In fact, maybe it was his imagination, but they seemed to have perked up a little. Like he had back in the shop, Hyunwoo brushed the top of one with a finger. “Hey, buddy...I’ve got you. It’ll be alright.” Anyone who caught him talking to his new plant would probably think he was downright insane, but he didn’t care. Besides, Nana had sworn that if you spoke lovingly to still-life things, they’d be healthier and last longer. “I’m gonna take you home, okay? I’ll get you some water and nutrients, and set you in a nice, safe spot. You’ll even be able to make some new friends, how does that sound, huh?” Giving the little flora one last smile, Hyunwoo gingerly set it next to him, in a shallow dip between the front two seats.

It only took a moment to find his key, and then, with a flick of the wrist, the car purred to life. Pulling carefully out of his parking spot, Hyunwoo immediately made for home. He was on his way out, anyway, having been to an eleven o’clock dentist’s appointment. Once he was comfortable with his route and how he was driving, he reached down once more and cradled the pot in his hand again. Maybe he was crazy, after all, but he felt fondness toward the tiny seedlings inside. Every thought was gone from his mind, except for one--he had to take care of them. What might they do if given a second chance?

 Well, as it turned out, a lot, apparently.

Hyunwoo kept his promises to the little wilting plant faithfully. As soon as he got home, he made room on his windowsill, alongside his greenery collection. There was slight shade there, and that would be better on the fragile seedlings than the straight sunshine they had been getting before. Then he mixed up a small batch of lukewarm water and liquid ez-grow, and carefully poured some into the bowl he’d set the pot in to act as a saucer. For extra measure, he got the dirt inside wet, as well. The three little plants looked even better than they had in the car, if it was even possible. If nothing else, they definitely seemed straighter than they were in the shop window. Proud of his new addition to the collection, Hyunwoo snapped a pic of it with his phone. He did this at regular intervals with all his houseplants--he took joy in seeing how they all fared over time.

Six hours later, he returned to find that the water had seemingly vanished into the pot. What was even more surprising, though, was that the three seedlings were green and reaching proudly for the sun. Hyunwoo couldn’t help but think that this was strange, but he poured in some more water-and-nutrients concoction anyway, took another snapshot, and left it to its magic.

The next time he came back, right before he was about to go to bed, about the same interval of time had passed. Again, the dirt was almost dry, and each stem was about an inch taller than before and a darker, richer shade of emerald. This flabbergasted Hyunwoo. How in the heck could something recover so fast? Of course, he knew bamboo grew up to thirty-five inches a day, but this was not bamboo. The leaf shape was all wrong. Abruptly, he remembered the pictures and pulled them up. It was nice to have confirmation that he wasn’t dreaming, and earlier that day the thriving flora was brown and dying. There wasn’t much he could do other than water it yet again, though (actually, he made sure to overdo it a little), and document its progress.

His foresight turned out to be wise. When he checked in the morning, right before his nine-to-five shift, the sprouts had once again taken all the water from their potting soil. Each stood as long and thick as his pointer finger. That meant they had, what--tripled in size overnight? Hyunwoo shook his head in disbelief and confirmed his suspicions with the photos he had taken. Again, he watered them, but he couldn’t also help but wonder and worry. Would he need to run a slow tap into the pot? If the plant was growing at this rate, naturally it would need more water. What was it, anyway? He had never heard of anything that grew this fast from a seedling and had leaves in the shape of a ㄱ. The question ate at him all through his shift. At break time, he did a Google search, scouring a couple dozen pages of results. It seemed that nobody, plant aficionado or botanist, discussed anything that fit the specifications of his new plant, and soon, he had to go back to work, so he gave up.

His mind settled a little on the drive home, only to stoke again when he encountered another surprise. Though the plant hadn't gotten any thicker around, it put on another four inches in height. Only about twenty-four hours had passed since he had purchased it, but anyone who didn’t know that might believe more time had elapsed between the first and last photo saved on his phone. Maybe, up to three or four weeks. It was crazy. To make matters even more intriguing, there were still no answers as to what the sprouts were. Hyunwoo tried every variation of Google search he could think of. He even went pages deep into the results, but still, nothing jumped out at him. Once, he thought he found something promising. The descriptions matched up, at least, and it was describing a fast-growing plant. However, then he’d read further in and discovered that he’d stumbled upon a cryptids website. It was discussing fairy plants--flora that housed nature spirits and other types of fae. He immediately clicked back. Whoever wrote that had to be crazy, right? Things like that didn’t exist.

So, Hyunwoo doubled down on tending to the little plant. He decided that evening that if the seedlings grew any more, he would move them. Indeed, they did, putting on some more height. Luckily, he had a spare pot lying around. It was about fifteen inches in diameter and had once belonged to a jade plant that had died of old age. In this new “home”, his mysterious new acquisition would definitely thrive for a while to come.

He performed the actual transfer the next afternoon, which really wasn't complicated. The only thing he had to do in prep was make a trip to the store beforehand to buy a fresh bag of potting soil. When he'd returned, he got to his knees on the hardwood floor by the window. His hands (and, by accident, the floor) had just gotten dirty and he was all poised to shift pots when the front door opened. It took but a second for Hyunwoo to realize who had let themselves in. Their footsteps were distinctive. “Hey,” he called out, leaning back so he could see better.

Sure enough, Chae Hyungwon, his best friend from University, came around the corner from the entryway. The tall, slender stockbroker had clearly just gotten off work. He was looking sharp in a suit and had his hands stuck in his pants pockets. Upon seeing his friend on the floor, he stopped in his tracks. “Of course. I come over after a long day, expecting to goad you into going to the bar with me tonight, and you’re sitting here playing with your plants.”

Per normal, Hyungwon’s tone was sarcastic and joking. He could be extremely sassy if he wanted to be, and that fact never failed to make Hyunwoo smile. “Well, you're probably used to it by now,” he shot back, “and I’m not playing with them. I’m saving this one’s life.”

A beat of silence passed before the punchline came. Whether it was intentional or not, the younger man had perfect comedic timing. “Shit, you’re right. That’s scary as hell.”

Hyunwoo began to chuckle before breaking out into a loud laugh. “Okay, alright, you win.”

“Better believe it.” Hyungwon fell silent after that, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. He seemed attentive and patient, so the older man took this as his cue to continue.

Digging his fingers into the soil surrounding his little stems, Hyunwoo lifted everything up and out. He couldn’t help but note that the roots had started growing down the sides of the pot. Relief flooded his conscience, making him sigh. If he would have waited any longer, it might have been too late. Hyunwoo grasped the bottom of the dirt clod, broke it apart gently, and held it over the new pot for a minute. A gentle rain of loose soil fell from between his hands. Only after it had slowed did he let it down and nestle the seedlings in their new home, packing the dirt around them to make a reservoir he could use for watering. “There,” he said at long last, standing up and brushing his hands off on his jeans. “Perfect.”

“So, that one finally needed a new home, huh?”

“Finally? If only you knew.” Well, that came out more biting than he intended. Hyunwoo let it go, though, for the moment. Once he had set the plant back on the windowsill, he turned and made his way to the kitchen, beckoning for his friend to follow. “I got that plant two days ago. When I first laid eyes on it, I could barely tell that it wasn’t dead, and now it’s put on a half foot.” Washing his hands in the sink, he prepped another batch of water and nutrient tonic.

From behind him, there came a scoff. “You’re kidding me, right? I don’t have a green thumb like you do, but that’s completely ludicrous.”

“Nah, man, I’m not. Here, I even have proof.” Hyunwoo pulled his phone out of his back pocket, and going to this photos, flicked through the ones he had taken recently. It didn't take long to find what he needed; he'd saved them in an album by the name of ‘기’ (Ki), after the little plant’s foliage shape. Then he held it out for Hyungwon to see.

The handsome stockbroker took it and scrolled sideways through snapshots. Once he figured out what he was looking at, he seemed confused; his brows furrowed, then peaked. Each photo got special attention. After a minute, he went back to the beginning and through them again. Hyungwon tapped the screen a few times, checking each time stamp for inconsistencies and/or mistakes. Honestly, Hyunwoo didn't blame him. Finally, he relinquished the phone, holding his hands up in surrender. “That’s freaky, man.”

“Right?” They went back out into the living room, where Hyunwoo slowly poured a big dose of water into the seedlings’ new pot. “It's already made this much progress, and I have no clue how much more it has to go.”

“I thought you always looked up how to care for your plants on Google?”

“I can't find anything on this one. It's like I have a designer plant or something. The leaves are a weird shape, and nothing except maybe bamboo grows this fast after being brown and brittle.”

“Huh.” Hyungwon came over to Hyunwoo’s side and rubbed a leaf between his fingers. It might have been a trick of the sunlight, but the seedlings had seemingly straightened up even more. “Well, I imagine the only thing you can do now is continue to take care of it.”

“Yeah,” Hyunwoo sighed. “I’ll do my best. We'll see where it goes.” All at once, he perked up. “--Or, rather, where it grows.”

“I swear to God, Son Hyunwoo, that is the worst pun you've ever said to my face, and you are already the king of bad wordplay.”

“Sorry,” the older replied, shrugging and smiling sheepishly.

In little more than four weeks, Hyunwoo had to move the little plant from the windowsill to the floor. He couldn't call it small anymore, either. Now the stems were almost four feet tall, and each about as thick around as his wrist. However, it was hard to determine an exact height, because at some point they had started to lean. Their growth pattern continued in that way until they had formed a circle, layering on top of each other to create a round, trunk-like structure. After settling, they turned a curious shade of dark brownish-gray, and in some cases sprouted smaller branches with leaves. When touched, they also felt wooden. Hyunwoo watched this transformation with interest. It was almost like a vine-based plant was becoming a tree.

He was still watering it up to ten times a day. The bigger it got, the thirstier it seemed to become. To fill the need, Hyunwoo figured out a way to have a direct water line from the kitchen sink to the pot. All it took was a small section of garden hose. If he left the faucet on and let it slowly drip while he was at work, he didn't have to worry about the soil drying out. Once or twice, he thought about the fact that the plant was consuming water like a human would, and greedily. That was impossible, too, though, and he pushed it out of his mind.

Maybe it didn't make a difference, but he also continued to encourage it with kindness. The plant had made so much progress, and though it gave him stress sometimes, he was also proud. It gave him hope that he was doing the right thing. Like his Nana would have wanted, he shared that emotion with what caused it. Thus, he had a chance to release those feelings in a healthy way. Besides, it only seemed appropriate. Every time Hyunwoo passed the pot and greenery, he took a moment to smile and rub a ㄱ shaped leaf or two. Sometimes, he also had words of love. He considered himself to be a caretaker and guardian to all his precious flora, after all. Some people even jokingly referred to him as ‘plant dad’.

Given such a steady supply of nourishment, it wasn't long before the flora surpassed the height of his tallest cast iron specimen. Even as it continued to put on inches, it also thickened, and soon threatened to spill over the sides of the pot. This put Hyunwoo in a unique predicament. If the plant wasn't already root bound, it was going to be soon. That meant he either had to perform another transplant or let it take outside in his already-tiny yard. The latter, he didn't want to do. Its behavior so far had convinced Hyunwoo that it was strictly a household plant, no matter how big it got. So, he began to call every place in the phonebook that labeled themselves ‘Greenhouse’ or ‘Garden Center’. He needed to find the biggest size of flower pot he could. Few words were needed to get his point across. It was as simple as introducing himself and then asking the question. Some places only sold smaller planters, not much bigger than the one currently home to the strange greenery, but others seemed promising. Some carried thirty inch-diameter pots; others said thirty-six inches was their biggest. Most of those upper-end planters were about that deep as well.

He struck true gold on one of his last phone calls, though. A lady with a peppy voice answered the phone, and as usual, Hyunwoo said his spiel. “Well sir,” she replied, “You're in luck. One of our regular customers ordered a jumbo size flower pot that's forty-eight inches in diameter, and perhaps a little deeper than its width. We got a set of four, but he only wanted three, so we've been trying to get rid of the extra for a while now. I'll cut the price for you if you're interested.”

“Oh, really?” Hyunwoo leaned back and brushed the hair back from his brow. “Yeah, sure, that would be nice, actually. When could I come pick it up?”

“Whenever you want. I'll be here until five.”

Fifteen minutes later, he was at the store. As she’d promised, the employee let him have the pot for seventy-five percent off. He had a feeling that his attractiveness level had something to do with that number. Price, though, he quickly came to find out, was nothing compared to how awkward carrying the thing was. It even made him question his own sanity a couple times. In the end, it barely fit in the backseat of the car. There almost wasn’t enough room for his other purchases: a couple big bags of soil and some more nutrients, as he was running low.

Hyunwoo tried to be as gentle as he could. He drove carefully, not taking turns too fast. On his way inside the house, he also made sure to hold on to the pot with two hands. Something close to exhaustion set in once the task was complete. Still, he wasn't done yet. The thought of trying to clear a space for the ginormous terracotta pot was honestly torture. He chose the first alternative he saw: a sunny place just beyond the entryway, next to the kitchen and visible from the living room. He set everything down there, dumped soil in, and did the transplant. The size of his plant’s new home relative to the old one was about the same as the first time. Hyunwoo prayed with all his might that he wouldn’t have to repeat that again.

Another month passed. Two. Three. Before he knew it, Hyunwoo had a plant standing in his entryway that touched the eight-foot ceiling. It was also once again close to the edges of the pot, and that made him worry. Weren't the roots restricted? Surely, they didn’t have room to spread and continue to support the tree. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to take the plant out to the yard. The hunt to find a bigger container would probably be fruitless, too. So, Hyunwoo waited for the inevitable death of the plant--but it defied expectations. Given that he fed it a steady stream of water, and also nutrients on occasion, it seemed to flourish.

Fearing that it might try to grow too tall, Hyunwoo invested in some clippers. However, it turned out that he didn’t need those, either. Oddly, the plant seemed to know its limits. When it hit the top, it thinned and started spreading out. New, slender green vines clung to the ceiling and pushed forward, making their way through the house. They mostly concentrated in the living room, but a few also inhabited the kitchen, laundry room, and spare bedroom. He clipped any that tried to breach the doorway to his bedroom, and the bathroom, though. For some odd reason, allowing that felt like an invasion of his personal space. Besides, then the doors wouldn't be able to close.

One day, Hyunwoo noticed a small green teardrop forming near the main trunk of the tree. It wasn't a new leaf; he knew what those looked like, and this was completely different. More of these new buds appeared in the next twenty-four hours. It didn't take long to realize what was going on, and luckily, Hyunwoo was there to see what happened next.

It seemed like for a while, the plant held its breath. Then, in the span of only a few minutes, everything bloomed.

Pretty, reddish-orange flowers with six petals and a chocolate brown center covered the ceiling wherever vines grew. They were tiny (not even as big as a one-won coin), delicate, and filled the house with a subtle, pleasant scent. To Hyunwoo, it was something like a mix between baby powder and peaches. If he was being honest, he was in awe. How was it that this little plant from an antique store had ended up being such a treasure? It filled his home with beauty, and in such a short time, had become as big a part of his life as the house itself. Now he couldn't pass it in the entryway without taking a moment to touch and whisper to it.

Hyungwon, too, gawked the first time he saw this lovely display. He had been over a few more times since the first, so he was aware of the plant’s progress, but still, the flowers were something he hadn't expected at all. The moment he walked in, he was staring up. His jaw only dropped open wider at the fact that the branches had spread through the entire house. For the first time, perhaps ever, Hyunwoo saw him at a loss for words.

Not long after that, the plant decreased its water intake dramatically. One morning, the dirt in the pot was over-saturated, and the entryway flooded. Hyunwoo cleaned up the best he could and backed off the water from the sink. Even then, it threatened to spill over again. It forced him to re-establish a watering routine, and so he dousing the soil with water every few hours. It seemed that now, the unusual flora was only taking in enough nourishment to support its flowers. All growth halted, and the remaining green vines turned woody and gray, like the trunk. Hyunwoo didn’t mind, really; leaving the sink on all the time had earned him a huge water bill the month before.

For some reason or other, this turn of events filled Hyunwoo with a sense of contentment. He still wanted to see the plant through the rest of its life. Admittedly, he’d grown more attached to it than his other greenery.

Little did he know that things were about to get even more interesting.

Hyunwoo walked in his front door one evening, and got the shock of his life.

Work had been stressful, but fulfilling. He’d fidgeted all day after the morning brought an impromptu visit from his immediate supervisor, Mr. Lee Seyoung. He asked if Hyunwoo would be willing to stay for a few minutes after his shift. This was quite odd, since overtime was rarely granted, and it was rare that anyone broke the rules, anyway. The whole thing put a weird feeling in Hyunwoo’s stomach, for some reason, but he agreed. Nothing was on his agenda for that evening, so a little bit of time was something he could spare.

Well, it turned out that his boss had set up a meeting with Mr. Kang, the CEO. Apparently, Seyoung really liked Hyunwoo and believed him to be an asset the company should not let go of. To support that opinion, he produced documents showing that their department’s productivity had gone up by eleven percent since Hyunwoo had started his internship. “He’s become a member of my team, and contributes valuable ideas and input weekly, if not daily. I have never seen or heard of a more capable and dedicated intern in my years with this company.” The boss finished up with the fact that Hyunwoo’s first partnership, with the owner of a small frozen yogurt shop, had been a stellar success. One location had grown by leaps and bounds, and now there were several spread across Seoul. The advertising campaign the intern had helped organize was a big part of the reason.

When Mr. Lee finished with all he had to say, Mr. Kang excused him, then turned his attention to Hyunwoo. After a couple questions about whether he’d enjoyed his experience under Seyoung and at the company in general (yes, very much), and if there were already other plans for employment lined up (no), the question came out:

“If I was to offer you a position today, which I am fully prepared to do, would you take it?”

Hyunwoo nearly fainted with excitement and happiness and accepted on the spot. Did Mr. Kang know exactly how much of a weight off his back this was? It meant that now, he didn't have to worry about hunting for a job. That was a major stressor, eliminated. Truly, he had loved working for the company; at every turn, he’d met people he admired and respected. A future with them was one of the best outcomes he could ask for. Suddenly, the days ahead were full of possibility.

Happy songs were playing on the radio all the way home, and Hyunwoo couldn’t help but smile and sing along with the ones he knew. He even threw in a couple upper body dance moves while he was stuck in traffic. His heart was so light, and he felt like smiling until his cheeks hurt. Today can’t get any better, he thought absentmindedly. I’ll call Hyungwon and tell him the good news, and we can go bar hopping or something to celebrate.

Dusk had already fallen when he pulled into his driveway. Hyunwoo whistled to himself as he parked, turned off the car, and made his way up the sidewalk and front steps. He grasped the knob on his front door with one hand, while the other slid his key in the deadbolt lock. After that, it only took a simultaneous turn of his wrist and shoulder to the wood to get into the house. Hyunwoo waltzed in, setting his keys and bag down on a nearby table, and made for the kitchen. As he passed his plant, he reached out and was about to give it a pat--

A sudden, strange sound made him stop abruptly. It would have been easy to brush it off as something shifting, or a sound from next door, but this was different for some reason. Hyunwoo went dead quiet, and in moments, came to realize that yes, he wasn’t hearing things. There was a faint breathing coming from the living room. He couldn’t see anything out of place, though, and a shiver ran down his spine. Cautiously, he crept forward and peeked over the top of the sofa, glancing down to an unexpected sight. As the truth settled in, his eyes widened, and recoiling, he gave a short cry of terror.

There was someone sleeping there, lying stretched out across the couch cushions, on their side. The rise and fall of their chest was barely visible in the growing darkness. It was a man, by the looks of it, and buck naked. Hyunwoo’s mind raced. What was he doing here? How had he gotten inside in the first place? Was it under the influence of drugs or with bad intentions? In any case, seeing the complete stranger zonked out on the sofa sent Hyunwoo into panic mode. He bolted for the kitchen, pulling a sushi knife from a drawer and fishing for his cell phone in his back pocket. As soon as he had it out, his trembling hand flicked to the emergency call screen, and he dialed 119.

In what seemed like only a flash, he was back in his living room again, standing over the sleeper. His finger hovered over the call button; he knew that he should go ahead and press it. Then, he’d make a run for the front door again, so he wouldn’t wake this guy before the police arrived. Yet, once again, something stopped him.

Perhaps it was that he got a better look. Hyunwoo’s tight throat and chest wouldn’t allow him to breathe, so he sat there for a minute, heaving for air. That forced him to take another glance, and suddenly, Hyunwoo couldn't stop staring.

The mysterious man was fairly small, only about 160 centimeters in comparison to Hyunwoo’s 181. Medium-long, orange hair (the shade of which was almost irritatingly familiar) fell across his forehead, swept behind his ear, and framed his face. He had a strong jaw and a handsome, pointed nose, though his long eyelashes and plump lips gave him a delicate look. Next to Hyunwoo’s dark golden skin tone, he was a little lighter, but really not by much. Last, but not least, his complexion was pristine and clean, almost like a baby’s. There was no blemish or spot anywhere on his body. Though he was no Adonis (it was very hard to beat Hoseok’s toned, chiseled figure in that regard) he was still well-formed, and a dazzling sight--pure, innocent almost.

How could someone this--adorable have just turned up here? Nothing seemed to be off or wrong, and there was no evidence to suggest a break-in. The longer the taller man stayed, the more the alarm system in his head faded into the background. Yes, this was an intruder, but he was just lying there, sleeping.

In the end, Hyunwoo never dialed the emergency number and switched off the screen. He still shook a little but managed to calm down enough to go put the knife away. Maybe that was a stupid move, yeah; any other rational person would definitely have treated this as a home invasion. Something deep down inside told him that it was alright, though. This would all work out. When he came back around toward the couch, protective instinct kicked in. It consumed every other feeling he had and took him completely over. Maybe this guy was confused and unfortunate, and needed a ride home or to the hospital. Or, perhaps they’d met at the bar one night, and Hyunwoo just didn’t remember.

Shifting slightly in his sleep, the orange-haired beauty curled up further and shivered. Without a second thought, Hyunwoo pulled a quilt from the back of a nearby chair, the warmest he had. Trying to be as quiet as possible, he stepped over and gently draped the blanket on top of his guest.

All was well at first; the man hummed and smiled, snuggling deeper into the couch. However, the change in weight must have disturbed his slumber, because in the next moment, he was blinking back to consciousness. He lifted a hand to his eyes and rubbed them drowsily as they fluttered open. “Mm--Hyunwoo-hyung?” were the first, quiet words out of his mouth.

Another chill wracked Hyunwoo's body, and he froze. Swallowing his growing apprehension, he glanced down to the sight of the stranger's gaze trained reverently on him. Questions multiplied in his head. Wait--what? This stranger knew his name and was addressing him like an old, beloved friend. That was impossible, right?

“Hyung! Finally, you're home!” Suddenly, with a burst of energy, said individual jumped up from the couch, then launched himself into the taller’s arms. Taken completely by surprise, Hyunwoo scrambled to adjust, and managed to regain his balance, saving both of them from ending up on the floor. When the confusion settled, the man had latched on like a baby sloth. He'd wrapped his legs around Hyunwoo's waist, and was clearly trying to cuddle as close as possible, too.

Hyunwoo couldn't move, petrified with shock and trapped in a moment of awkwardness. Even his vocal cords felt frozen. He’d somehow managed to hook a supportive arm around the man’s small waist, and now couldn’t let go. To save the last shred of sanity he had, he also purposely tried not to think about the genitalia pressed against his belly.

“Oh, I thought you’d never come back! Today, of all days.” A few warm, gentle teardrops dripped down onto Hyunwoo’s shoulder. “I've been waiting so long.”

Swallowing hard, Hyunwoo made his voice obey him this time. It came out a little broken, but he managed to control things somewhat. “Sir, I’m really sorry, but I have no clue what you’re talking about. I don’t recall ever having met you in my life. So, um, would you please stop calling me hyung? It makes me uncomfortable.”

Slowly, the smaller man glanced up, and his smile dropped. The cutest look of confusion came across his features; his mouth hung open, and his eyebrows scrunched together. “W--wait, what? You don’t--”

“Who are you anyway? What are you doing in my house?”

“Oh...you really don’t recognize me.” All the strength seemed to leave the visitor’s body, and now he looked sad. Tears filled his eyes, and his lips began to tremble. “But how? You’re the one who brought me here, and you’ve been taking care of me. I--I’ve lived with you for months now.”

"Are you sure you have the right place--?” Terror washed over Hyunwoo in a new wave. If this man had been living with him, where had he been hiding all this time? He considered going back into the kitchen and grabbing the sushi knife again. However, the sobs that broke from the smaller's throat stopped that train of thought in its tracks.

“Yes!” The stranger buried his face back into Hyunwoo’s shoulder. “I haven’t been outside…not since the day you rescued me from death. You’re my savior, and I want to repay you for that! Why don’t you recognize me…?”

Something clicked in the taller man’s head. Carefully, he turned around and came to a revelation. The words reminded him of the little plant he adopted, and sure enough, something had split its trunk wide open. There was a hollow in the center big enough for a man this size to fit tightly. “H--hold on. Are you saying that you came from the tree in the entryway?”

A little bit of hope returned to the orange-haired man's face. Light danced in his eyes, and he nodded. “Yeah, close. See, I am the plant--or rather, its guardian.” When Hyunwoo’s confused and distraught remained, though, he shrank back again. “Are you gonna throw me out?” He asked, weakly.

"What? No, no, I could never." That would be nothing but cruel. Sure, this--nature spirit? had little understanding of the concepts of privacy and security, and also thought, erroneously, that they had met before. He probably figured that since Hyunwoo talked to him on a consistent basis, they were already acquainted. All this at once made the taller man's head spin. Still, his protective instinct was strong. Now that he knew that this man meant no harm, he was put a lot more at ease. Hyunwoo felt a deep, pervasive desire to nurture him like he had with the mother plant. Instinctively, he rocked a bit and hummed softly in an attempt to calm the tears splashing onto his shirt. "Hey, um, let's get you some clothes, and we can talk after that. Ok?"

His human (or, Hyunwoo supposed, fairy) koala nodded slightly, making an obvious effort to calm his heaving sobs. He climbed down, and together, they made their way to the bedroom.

"I-it's Kihyun. If that matters to you."

"What's Kihyun? Your name?"

"Yeah." The shorter man looked so small, kind of like a kid, as he hung his head and nervously fidgeted with his fingers.

"It's nice to meet you, Kihyun." In hopes of easing his worry, Hyunwoo gave him a big smile. "Your leaves are shaped like that, aren't they?"

If he hadn't turned to push the door open at that very moment, he might have seen the red that rose to his guest’s cheeks.

Once inside his own room, Hyunwoo headed straight for the closet. On the top shelf, there was a box of things his mother had insisted he take with him when he moved out of the house to go to college. It was mostly junk from his middle school days, so he didn't quite see her point, but acquiesced anyway. There were a few nifty toys that might be of interest to any grandsons that might come along, and some other things that carried memories, such as an empty, crudely-painted flower pot and some old, ripped play money. Also in the box happened to be Hyunwoo's lucky checkered boxers. They were too small for him now, but he was sure they'd fit his guest perfectly. It only took a moment of digging around before he found them. In handing them to Kihyun, he stretched the waistband to show what side was up. "Put these on your legs, like my pants are on mine."

The smaller man nodded and stepped in, pulling them up. Meanwhile, Hyunwoo dug around in the back of his closet until he came across a tee shirt that had shrunk in the wash. Also, he found the smallest pair of sweats he owned. Kihyun got dressed in those, too, and Hyunwoo laughed at how oversized on him they were. The fairy was practically drowning in cloth. It made him look even smaller than he was. Hyunwoo had to fight back a sudden urge to cuddle him.

 So, that was how Son Hyunwoo came to have a nymph living with him literally full-time. Kihyun never left the house after the first time they went somewhere together. Things spiraled out of control, and could have ended badly if it wasn’t for some quick thinking.

In short, Hyunwoo took Kihyun shopping one day, about a week after their meeting. The latter had never been on a big excursion like this, and they both soon came to find out that any prolonged separation from his mother plant could be fatal. Only about thirty minutes after they’d gotten to the department store, Kihyun was looking very pale. He started to shake like a leaf in the wind, but insisted he was fine; that is, until he gave out completely. Hyunwoo dropped everything to run over and catch him. After asking Kihyun what was wrong, to uncertain responses, he carried the smaller man to a nearby bench.

A few minutes passed, and the little fae was looking worse and worse. It was to the point he couldn’t even vocalize anymore. Hyunwoo was considering rushing home, when he had a sudden thought. Faintly, he remembered seeing some water bottles for sale in a cooler on the way in. Maybe that would provide Kihyun the sustenance he needed until they could do what they needed to. This on the forefront of his mind, Hyunwoo promised that he’d only be gone a few minutes, and ran off.

When he returned, Kihyun looked too close to dead for comfort. Hyunwoo’s hands shook as he scrambled to get the cap off the bottle. Carefully, he tipped the nymph’s head back and poured liquid down his throat. It took a couple more times before this actually started to work, but it did nonetheless. Soon, Kihyun had regained enough strength to hold the bottle in his hand and drink mouthfuls from it himself. He didn’t quite get back to his peppy, smiley self until they were home again, but it at least saved his life. They were also able to finish getting basic necessities and clothes that fit.

This wasn’t all they had to learn; really, there was a lot on both ends. For instance, it was a while before Hyunwoo discovered Kihyun’s surname: Yoo. The reason that the nymph’s hair color was so familiar was because it was the same as the petals from the flowers off his tree. His eyes, too, were the chocolate brown of their centers. Most interestingly of all, he didn’t need any food, just water. That made sense, though, considering that if he ate anything, it would be cannibalism. (Yes, even meat. All of it was plant-fed.)

Something else that Kihyun revealed was that long ago, he had been a free-spirited, mischievous woodland guardian. A witch caught him in her garden one day and bound his existence to the plant. Her curse was that he'd wait in obscurity for a thousand lifetimes, and only when a special individual nurtured him to full growth would he appear in physical form again. Hyunwoo didn’t doubt a word of the account. He was already past the point where things sounded crazy to him. As he listened and nursed a cup of coffee, pride grew in his breast. He must have done a good job of raising the mother plant, because all things considered, its fae was strong and healthy. In light of this, he loved praising the smaller man all the more.

“Hey, have I ever told you how proud of you I am?”

“I’m so glad I found you in the window that day.”

“You make me happy.”

Before the plant had made its switch from foliage to person, Hyunwoo had also gotten in the habit of saying I love you. Now, that felt wrong, though. His relationship to Kihyun wasn't, and would never be, romantic. Someday, he might admit that he had love in his heart for the nymph, like a father loves his son, but not yet. He was just caring for him like he would for any one of his other greeneries, and that was that.

Little did Hyunwoo know, however, that his conception of the dynamic was completely different from Kihyun’s.

The faerie’s consciousness had existed in his plant, even from the beginning. Hearing Hyunwoo’s voice for the first time, in the antique shop, had jerked him out of restless slumber. For the first time since the cursing, someone was showing Kihyun true attention and love. Thus, he quickly came to realize that this was the special one the witch had talked about all those years ago. The tiny nymph-in-a-pot dared to hope that things would work out in the end, despite the fate that awaited him--a cruel and painful death. (Of course, he’d never tell Hyunwoo that part of the story.)

It was just--why did his human caretaker have to be so beautiful? Kihyun knew he was a goner from the moment he was first nestled in those big, rough hands. Even having frolicked among dozens of gorgeous deities, and also lived among humans for such a long time, he could still swear that Hyunwoo was the most handsome man he had ever seen. As the days passed, his attraction only got stronger. It was the small things that did him in. Kihyun fell for Hyunwoo’s kind and easygoing ways, how he danced and sang when he thought no one was watching, and last but not least, his delightful laugh and smile. There was no denying that Kihyun was totally and hopelessly in love.

Now that the fae was in a physical form, it was like a dream come true. Kihyun tried to be close to the human as much as he could. He wanted to spend every moment with Hyunwoo, so it hurt to see him leave in the morning. Kihyun could understood sleep, of course; he, too, needed to rest. Burning nine to ten hours of daylight without his favorite person, though, was torture. The amount of time that this thing called ‘work’ demanded was ridiculous. Why did Hyunwoo continue to go day after day, with only the occasional day off? Was it really necessary? Kihyun asked about what it entailed, even, and things didn't get any clearer. Hyunwoo said that in short, his job involved performing a lot of different tasks to make others happy. That sounded incredibly boring, but Kihyun didn't question it or prod further.

A couple times, Kihyun tried to keep Hyunwoo back from it by begging, pleading, and restraining him. Finally, Hyunwoo sat him down and treated him to one of his gentle explanations. Apparently, the human world ran on things called won, or money (they were the same). If Hyunwoo didn’t go to work, he would have no won, and thus also no place to live or water to drink. The idea was strange and foreign, but Kihyun did his best to understand. He was sure that his caretaker would never lie to him.

Though he wasn’t sure if he’d ever understand, Kihyun got used to it eventually. At least, he learned that he could always count on Hyunwoo to return around the same time every evening. There was an occasional exception, though, like the day that Kihyun had chosen to emerge. If that happened, he tried desperately to keep himself calm, and usually within a half hour, Hyunwoo was home.

However, in the meantime, Kihyun had free rein of the house. Usually, he read a book, tended to his tree, or slept. However, then, one weekend, Hyunwoo showed him the internet: more specifically, a few sites with games on them. Kihyun was in awe of how a flat piece of metal could do so much and quickly got addicted. It made the hours until his caretaker came home fly by.

There was a dark side to technology, though. Kihyun found that out the day he stumbled upon something strange in Hyunwoo’s browser history: porn. Of course, because of his never-ending curiosity, he clicked it. What he saw shocked him. It was like...procreation. Kihyun’s parents had taught him that it was necessary, but a taboo topic. Two faes only had sex when they loved each other very much. From the videos he watched, though, it seemed that some humans didn't care. Some even recorded themselves doing it or had others record them doing it. They engaged in other intimate acts, too, like kissing, touching, and biting.

Sometimes, Kihyun would imagine that the couple in the video was himself and Hyunwoo. Within seconds, he’d be trembling as a strange feeling took him over. He would grow hard in his underwear, and every fiber of him begged for touch. When he wrapped a hand around his dick, clear, slick fluid leaked out. Moving up and down the shaft sent indescribable feelings through Kihyun’s body. Before he could process it, he had instinctively buried two fingers in his asshole. The thought of Hyunwoo’s husky voice asking him to come was what undid the little nymph.

After that discovery, Kihyun cautiously started getting more handsy. Hugging and snuggling with Hyunwoo was already the best feeling in the world, but now he wanted more. He expressed his love for the human all the time, and for the most part, received it back. Of course, It disappointed Kihyun that Hyunwoo didn’t say the l-word anymore, but that didn’t matter. He was always the type that let his actions speak louder than words. Why couldn’t they go further than “safe” touch, though?

Unfortunately, nothing Kihyun tried worked, short of an outright makeout session (and he wasn’t near bold enough to attempt that yet). He touched and nuzzled every sensitive spot he knew, but Hyunwoo only smiled softly and cuddled back in return. It was frustrating, but the nymph waited patiently for his chance. He was sure that one would come eventually, and it did.

Though it definitely didn't have the outcome he'd hoped.

It had been about four months since Kihyun came into Hyunwoo’s life, and they’d fallen into a comfortable routine. Mornings started early, around five am or so. Hyunwoo would rise first, shower, and make a small breakfast for himself, or toss together some cereal and milk. Inevitably, Kihyun would not be too far behind. He didn’t eat, but always chose to nurse a glass of water and hang out at the table. Before letting Hyunwoo go, the nymph gave his caretaker a hug and perhaps a little kiss on the jaw.

The gym and work never changed, though the tasks and routines changed day-to-day. Hyunwoo still hung out with Hoseok at the weight rack and bench press, and his new job was satisfying. Occasionally, a tough day would come around, and that was particularly true one balmy Thursday in April. Calls kept flooding in right after another. Hyunwoo did his best to handle everything he could at once, but it was not always enough. Those kinds of shifts were draining, so understandably, he came home that evening exhausted.

Kihyun greeted him at the door as always, with a bright smile that lit up even the human’s worst of times. Hyunwoo accepted a welcome home hug and mussed the nymph’s hair fondly. Today, more than usual, he was aware of Kihyun’s hand in the small of his back, rubbing slowly. Determined to put that out of his mind, he chalked it up to stress.

Not that Hyunwoo hadn’t noticed the fae’s growing insistence on intimate touch. Honestly, it was hard to miss. At first, the contact was fleeting and occasional, but now, when they cuddled on the couch (often while watching a movie), Kihyun let his hands roam more. He’d drag his fingertips down Hyunwoo’s forearm, or draw patterns onto his inner thigh. Did that mean he was becoming more comfortable?

It never crossed the human's mind that Kihyun might be head over heels in love. Admittedly, he had always been a little slow to see things. Maybe if he’d noticed one more of Kihyun’s stares or blushes, he might have realized the truth earlier. Unfortunately, he didn’t and remained oblivious to the nymph’s feelings.

The rest of the night passed quickly. Hyunwoo had brought some work home with him, and that was a time eater. When that option presented itself, he always took it, however. It was nice to sprawl out on the couch in his pajamas and take his time finishing an email or brainstorming things for clients. His own home was a whole lot quieter than the constant bustle of the company offices. Potential distractions were fewer in number, too. Not to mention, there was also the fact that this was a perfect opportunity to let Kihyun snuggle him.

Around nine pm, the nymph started to yawn. His eyes would droop shut before abruptly, he’d jerk awake again. Hyunwoo gave a low chuckle at how adorable he was. “Looks like it’s bedtime for you, huh, little guy?”

Reluctant to leave his warm, comfy “pillow”, Kihyun grumbled and complained some, but didn’t argue. Setting down Hyunwoo’s cell phone (he often asked to use it when things were slow), he peeled himself away. From where Hyunwoo was sitting, he could see the entrance to what was formerly the guest bedroom, now Kihyun’s. The little plant spirit disappeared inside. There was the characteristic sound of fabric rustling as he changed into pajamas. Every once in a while, the human checked over his shoulder to see whether the light had turned off yet.

Soon, accompanied by a soft padding of footsteps, it did. That was the cue for him to lay aside his computer and the documents he had in his hand, take off his glasses, and make his way there. Kihyun was just settling down, burying his face in the pillow as always. He'd bunched the blankets up near his shoulders, which was also a normal occurrence. Carefully, Hyunwoo crept over and sat down on the side of the bed. “Goodnight, Kihyun-ah.”

“Goodnight, hyung.” The bright, sweet smile Hyunwoo got in return was everything. Kihyun looked so tiny as he snuggled in deeper. The human at his side seemed to be the object of his admiration. Reached out for his caretaker’s hand, he held it gently as his eyes fluttered shut. After only a few minutes, his breathing leveled out. No doubt, he was fast asleep and dreaming of whatever nymphs dreamed about. Once he also started to snore a little, Hyunwoo left as quietly as he could, shutting the door behind him.

Walking out of that room was the equivalent of being thrust into the fire after living in a haven, especially tonight. Giving a groan, he plopped down on the couch and settled his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He had to push rogue thoughts out of his head before diving right back in with fervor. If he didn’t, he might give in to the unwanted desire to go cuddle with Kihyun.

Time plodded on, or, rather, kept flying. A couple more correspondences and good thousand words of a report later, Hyunwoo glanced at the time and realized it was almost twelve-thirty in the morning. Eyes widening in surprise, he sat up straighter and flexed his aching shoulders. Better stop now, or else he might get reprimanded for working overtime. He was already pushing it this week, even having taken tomorrow off.

So, Hyunwoo logged out of the program keeping track of his hours and shut his work computer. As darkness engulfed him, he pondered going to bed, but in the end, decided against it. He wanted to watch a couple more episodes of a drama he’d been working through lately. Might as well, considering that he had nothing to do in the morning other than eventually meet Hoseok at the gym. They’d set a time for eight-thirty on their days off. The remote slid almost effortlessly into his hand. Flipping the television on, Hyunwoo clicked through a couple screens to get to his drama subscription service. So what if he was a sucker for sappy romance plots? If others weren’t, they wouldn’t exist. The volume was a little loud at first, so he turned it down and laid back. What would the couple on screen be up to this time around?

One episode had already come and gone, and another was only about ten minutes in when something not quite usual happened. A small sniffle came from behind, and Hyunwoo turned to see Kihyun standing there in the hallway. The little nymph was carrying a big, fuzzy blanket and wiping his eyes. Fresh tear tracks streaked down his face. A sleepy droop to his eyelids revealed that he was only half-awake.

“Kihyunnie? What’s wrong?” “Hadda bad nightmare,” the nymph sighed in reply, running one small hand through his hair. “Can I stay out here with you?”

Hyunwoo’s heart softened. “Alright,” he relented and patted the spot beside him, where Kihyun had been earlier. It seemed that the little plant spirit had other ideas, though. He broke into a tired smile and headed for the couch. However, instead of settling down in the expected place, he climbed up onto his caretaker’s open lap instead. Caught off-guard, Hyunwoo gave a tentative oh, but didn’t protest. Memories and sensations from their initial encounter instantly began flooding in. Kihyun’s knees squeezed the human's hips firmly but gently, and he nuzzled into a spot between Hyunwoo's neck and shoulder. This pressed their bodies flush; the two of them fit together so perfectly, it was almost criminal.

Sighing in contentment, Hyunwoo wrapped an arm around Kihyun’s waist. A gentle, melodic hum flowed forth from his lips, and before he knew it, he was combing his fingers through orange locks. The attentions seemed to work like a magical 'soothe Kihyun' charm. He began to calm down, hiccups growing less frequent and further apart.

The drama kept playing. Hyunwoo tried to pay attention but found it impossible with a small, cute boy drifting off in his arms. He managed to get most of the important plot points, however, even while his brain was overtaken by other things--mostly, how Kihyunnie was just as adorable as the day they had met. The nymph’s face wasn’t visible, but it was obvious that a peaceful smile was on his lips. Hyunwoo could feel their upward curve as they pressed into his neck. Gentle breaths tickled the sensitive skin there.

Then, all too soon, the credits were rolling. Subtle noises from Hyunwoo's shoulder revealed that Kihyun was fast asleep. Not wanting to wake him, the human tried to be as careful as he could, and reached out to press the power button on the TV remote. Darkness engulfed the room, and the only light left was from the streetlamps outside. Moving up to the front edge of the couch, Hyunwoo held the nymph tightly to himself and thought things through best he could in his exhausted state. Despite the fact that Kihyun was out cold, his grip hadn’t relaxed any at all; if anything, it had grown more secure. Hyunwoo doubted that he’d be able to loosen it without waking him up.

That was what, in the end, led to the decision to just take them both to the master bedroom. The extra presence wouldn’t keep Hyunwoo from falling asleep, after all. More importantly, though, it might mean that Kihyunnie wouldn't have more nightmares. If he did, knowing his caretaker was nearby might comfort him, too.

So, Hyunwoo got up slowly, trying to be as quiet and steady as he could. The weight of his passenger felt like nothing, and it wasn't long before he settled himself down on the edge of his bed. Not for the first time, the human found himself glad that he was already in pajamas. Changing would be next to impossible at this point, and Hyunwoo hated sleeping in his clothes. Pulling back the covers, he turned and laid down as carefully as possible. It took a few moments and readjustments, but soon he found a comfortable position, and only then did he finally allow himself to relax.

Then, all at once, Kihyun pervaded Hyunwoo's mind. The nymph’s orange hair fanned out perfectly across the pillow. He seemed as serene and happy as he had been in the living room. The gentle moonlight that filtered in through the sheer white curtains seemed to touch him fondly. His sharp jaw, long, delicate eyelashes, and pronounced cupid’s bow should be familiar, but Hyunwoo could swear that he was seeing them for the first time in this moment. He looks so beautiful, flashed through the human’s head before he could stop it. Maybe it was only how a result of how tired he was or a trick of the night’s strange magic, but he found himself unable to stop himself from reaching up to softly brush the smooth skin of Kihyun’s cheek. In response, the nymph stirred, gave a tiny, adorable yawn, and, if it was even possible, snuggled closer.

The added body heat was making it hard for Hyunwoo to keep his eyes open, which was frustrating because he wanted to watch Kihyun more. Yet, he knew that if he did, it might lead his already-dangerous wandering mind into territory he didn’t want to go.

So, taking one last moment to rub Kihyun’s shoulder blade in small circles, he allowed sleep to claim him at last.

The next morning, Hyunwoo awoke to an unfamiliar sensation--something ghosting across his face. It took him a moment to realize what it was, but the instant it hit, the gears of his mind ground to a halt.

What the hell? Someone was kissing him. Not deeply or sloppily; just fleetingly, brief presses of soft lips to his. Some were slower and longer than others. It crossed his mind that this was a wet dream; however, that was quickly proven incorrect. When his eyelids fluttered open, Kihyun was lying there next to him, inches away. Memories slowly but surely returned of the late night before. Fleetingly, Hyunwoo also remembered the pangs of...whatever that emotion had been, the one that had struck him as he'd watched the little nymph sleep. Now, it seemed that it was Kihyun's turn to admire him. The other's gaze was so tender and fond. He wore a radiant smile, and red blush tinged his cheeks. He combed his small fingers through the human’s hair, too.

“Good morning, my handsome Hyunwoo,” Kihyun murmured softly before his smile faltered. Awe replaced some of the joy in his eyes. “I--I can’t believe--oh, this is so much better than I ever dreamed it would be.”

Hyunwoo gave half-awake groan in response and rolled over onto his back. Judging from the light in the room, it was--what, seven? In any case, also far too early in the morning to be conscious. “Huh--ugh, what’re you talking about, Kihyun?”

“Waking up next to you.” The grip on Hyunwoo’s waist tightened a bit, and the nymph moved closer again, nuzzling into his caretaker’s side. “I’ve dreamed about this for so long, you have no idea.”

Then and there, in that moment, it all made sense. The realization of what every one of Kihyun's gestures, words, and touches truly meant became clear. Hyunwoo felt like a freight train had rammed into him at full speed. He froze and glanced down at the orange-haired nymph, but suddenly couldn’t get words out.

Grinning and giggling a bit at Hyunwoo’s struck expression, Kihyun pushed himself up, then over, and straddled his hyung’s hips. “I guess what I really wanna say is that I love you so much, it hurts sometimes. I’ve been waiting so long for this opportunity to tell you.”

Hyunwoo couldn't breathe; the air was gone from his lungs. “Wait, what?”

“Was that not plain enough?” Now it was Kihyun who sounded surprised. “I...I didn’t think I could be any clearer. Hyunwoo-hyung, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re sweet and kind and funny, and when you smile, my heart beats out of my chest.”

“Kihyun--I...I don’t know what to say--”

“You don’t have to because I know. That’s what I love about you--that you care so much, and always have. You nurtured me and made sure my needs were met. Now, let me return the favor.” Leaning down, Kihyun left a trail of kisses across Hyunwoo’s jaw, then down his neck, and nipped gently at an exposed collarbone. Meanwhile, his soft, small hands started unbuttoning the human’s pajama top, too.

The attention sent a full-bodied shiver straight through Hyunwoo. “N--no, no. Stop. Please.” With more strength than he’d intended, he shoved the nymph off and sat up. His head spun with the sudden movement, but he didn’t want to take his eyes off of Kihyun. “I’m really sorry, but I--I can’t. Look, I can’t deny that I care for you, but not...like that, ok? I have no intentions of cultivating anything romantic.”

Kihyun landed unhurt on the other side of the bed, but his eyes betrayed that he had a new wound on his heart. An utterly broken expression crossed his face as his eyes filled with tears. It could crush the toughest of men. ”What, no! You’re messing with me. Please tell me you are! I was so sure--so sure that you liked me. Are you saying that you--you don’t...?”

Hyunwoo’s eyes widened, and he reached out to set a comforting hand on the nymph’s shoulder. “I do! I really do. I really enjoy your company and I’m so proud of how much you’ve grown. I tell you that every chance I get, don’t I? It’s just--you want a relationship, but if we had one, I couldn't return your feelings. That’s really unfair, ya know?”

“But--but I love you. This is all I’ve ever wanted, to make you happy, to start every morning with you and give you the kisses and affection you deserve. To welcome you home with more when you get back from work.” Tears started to slide down Kihyun’s face, and he wiped them away with the hem of the oversized tee he was wearing. As he went on, his voice got quieter, and his gaze lingered on Hyunwoo’s partially-exposed chest and body. “I adore every single inch of you, and I want to let you know that. You deserve to feel good, like in those videos you watch. I watch them, too, and I always imagine it’s me and you. I wanna give you all of me. My entire heart, body, and soul.” Then, dropping his gaze to his fidgeting hands, almost so quietly it was inaudible, he added, “I...I want the privilege of carrying your children.”

“What the?” Now Hyunwoo was just confused and in shock. “Literally…?” Kihyun gave a tiny nod. “...How?”

“You needed a companion, so I presented as a male, but truthfully, I don’t have a specific gender. I can get pregnant.”

“Whoa.”

“So...you...really don’t react to me?” Crawling up into Hyunwoo’s lap again, Kihyun leaned forward to gently peck his caretaker’s forehead. “Not that?”

“No, Kihyun, I don’t.”

Then plump, red lips were on his again, and the nymph left a long, sweet kiss. He even was brave enough to let his tongue shyly test the waters, brushing against the bottom of Hyunwoo’s pout. The hope in his expression when he pulled away was almost saddening. “Yes? No?”

“I’m sorry, Kihyun, but no.”

Next, he tried suckling at a sensitive spot on Hyunwoo’s neck, and pushing up the human’s pajama shirt a little, gently took hold of his love handles. “Not even that?”

“No.”

Kihyun bit his lip, frustrated, and collapsed inward on himself just a tiny bit. The light in his eyes revealed that he had resigned himself to something. Then, the nymph sighed and slid down his caretaker’s body. It was immediately clear where he was intending to go, and it made Hyunwoo shiver. “Well, then...how about this?” Gently, Kihyun placed a kiss on his crotch.

The tired, rogue mind that had plagued Hyunwoo the night before returned. For a moment, it sent him images of them pressed together without clothes in the way. Kihyun was on top, riding his cock, so close to falling apart; eyes full of lust and adoration, whimpers falling from his lips. The thought of the little nymph so beautiful and blissed-out sent an unexpected jolt of electricity right to Hyunwoo’s dick, and it twitched in response.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Kihyun’s face was glowing again. Carefully, he stroked the hardening member through the cotton fabric. “Please, let me help you. Can I?”

Shaking with confusion and conviction, Hyunwoo reached forward to grab Kihyun’s wrists. “For the last time, no. Any touch down there is gonna make me react that way. Yeah, we could have sex, but again, if my heart’s not in it, that’s unfair to you. You’re like…a son to me, alright? And it’s wrong and unhealthy for a father and his child to be together like that.”

Yet, a whisper tickled at the back of his brain. Stop making excuses, you fucking idiot! That’s all this is. You know better than to lie to him about how you really feel--

He ignored it. “I--I’ve gotta go get ready to go to the gym.” he took a quick glance over, and regretted that decision instantly. Kihyun had curled into himself, and though he was trying to hide, it was obvious that he was bawling. Tiny hiccups and sobs gave it away. Sighing, Hyunwoo reached out again to put a hand on the nymph's knee. “Look, let me think things through, and we can talk about this later, ok? We’ll figure something out. I...don’t love you the way you love me, but...I probably could. It just will take more time.”

Kihyun didn’t say anything in response, not even raising a finger in acknowledgment, but Hyunwoo assumed he had heard. The human climbed out of bed, stretching side to side a bit before heading off to the bathroom to take a long, cold shower.

He needed it very badly.

Later, when Hyunwoo got back from the gym, Kihyun was gone. However, the plant’s trunk had closed up, and that was a major clue. The nymph had once mentioned that if he was to be badly hurt, he’d return to that solitude, so that’s where he had to be. Guilt pricked at the human’s heart that the morning’s events had caused this. All he could do, though, was resume his routine of touching the gray bark. When before, he just wanted to express his gratitude and appreciation to the flora he had raised, now he was begging the small, cute being inside for forgiveness.

Hyunwoo was struggling with the toughest internal dilemma of his life, and it was on his mind constantly that day. The more he tried to get it out, the more he confronted the small voice he had silenced. For the most part, it always led him to one question and one question only:

“How do you know when you love someone?”

Glancing up from his cocktail, Chae Hyungwon raised an eyebrow and quipped, “I wondered if there was something on your mind.”

“And what might have given you that idea?”“You’ve been quiet. Even more than normal for you, the most stoic man I know.”

Sighing, Hyunwoo put his beer up to his lips and took a swig. Yeah, now that he thought about it, the conversation had been slow tonight. Honestly, though, he’d been so distracted, it was a miracle he’d even been able to hold one in the first place. Now the real reason he had called Hyungwon earlier to ask about a night out was in the open, and he couldn’t take it back. “Really, though, how do you know for sure when you love someone? I--I ask because I know that you and Changkyun are pretty established. When I think of couples in love, you guys are it.”

The younger man’s gaze had gone to his drink and how he lazily swirled it around with his stirrer. Finally, after a beat of silence, a grin spread across his face. Seconds later, he was chuckling, then laughing hard, crackling snickers that he covered up with the palm of his hand. His cheeks pushed cutely up into his eyes.

“...What?”

“Is this related to how you won’t let me in your house anymore?”

“Um--No?”

“Does Son Hyunwoo have a secret mistress?” The tall, slender stockbroker wiggled his eyebrows and gave him a coy smile. When Hyunwoo just stared back in annoyance, he stuck up a hand. “Hey, or boy toy, I’m the last person who should be judging--”

“I’m--I’m not seeing anyone, Hyungwon, I just--ugh, someone was curious.” Internally, Hyunwoo cringed at the bad (and probably obvious) lie. He should have just said it outright: I might be considering it, though. “Asking for a friend.”

“Huh, yeah, right.” Hyungwon rolled his eyes but it was clear that he’d relented. He turned more toward Hyunwoo, his long legs allowing him to easily swivel on the barstool. “How do you know if you’re in love? Well, it’s...kinda hard to explain, I guess? You have to experience it yourself to really know since it’s different for everyone. But I can kind of tell how it is for me, and maybe, your person can pick out--common elements? Anyways.” Hyungwon waved a hand and took a short sip of his drink. “Changkyun is everything to me. It’s the best feeling in the world to know that he’s mine. After a long day of work, even if I have nobody, I have him. No matter how tired he is, he’s waiting for me with a smile and a kiss and a ‘what do we want for dinner tonight?’. He makes our house a home. It just feels so right, and I never want to let him go.

“There’s no one else for me on the entire planet, you know? The thought of him seeing another person is painful. Call me selfish, but I don’t regret it in the least. If I’m planning on going out somewhere, like with you tonight, he fusses over me, making sure I’m fed before I go to the bar, that I have a ride home, that I’m dressed well. I care for him so much, I know that I’d do the same thing if he ever went out with his friends, but he’s an introvert loser.” Hyungwon laughed again, and a sly smile slipped onto his face. “At the same time, perhaps it’s good that he doesn’t. The last time he tried--that’s just it. He tried, and never made it to the door because he looked so damn beautiful, and I couldn’t help myself. We ended up fucking on the couch, and again in the shower, and--”

“--Hyungwon--”

“--right, that was too much information. But I know we have a love thing and not a lust thing because more often than not, I just want to cuddle twenty-four seven. We snuggle a lot, and it fills me to the brim with warmth when I’m spooning him and he slowly traces the veins in my arm.

“Leaving our bed in the mornings is so hard. He goes to work half an hour after I do, but you know me. He’s usually already up and around by the time I drag myself out. The best days, though, are the ones when neither of us has anywhere to be, and he wakes me up with kisses and a hand in my hair. I live for those little moments. It’s not like he doesn’t always show me that he loves me, but it’s when I least expect the affection that it makes the most difference. I could go on, but does that answer your question, Hyunwoo-hyung?”

“Y--yeah. It does. Thanks.” Hyunwoo’s cheeks burned as it became clear that he’d been fooling himself. Everything Hyungwon had said resounded in his head and heart. Especially, the line about how Changkyun made a house into a home. That was exactly what Kihyunnie had come to mean to him. No wonder Hyunwoo always was so eager to get home after work, knowing the nymph was there waiting, felt willing to tell him anything and everything, and cared for any needs his guest might have. All the random urges to initiate snuggling, cuddling, and spooning, as well as that morning’s sexual fantasy, weren't just perverted thoughts. No, they were so much more. Before, he didn’t want to believe it. Hell, how had he been so blind?

Thankfully, Hyungwon didn’t seem to notice the sudden shift in mood and tipped his head back to finish the bit of cocktail left in his glass. Hyunwoo glanced down into his bottle, almost by instinct; but he had hit the bottom long ago. The younger must have noticed because he nodded toward where it was sitting on the counter. “How about another round, huh?”

Hyunwoo was about to say yes; he would have, gladly. However, a strange feeling crept into his gut, one he had never experienced before. Gloom and dread descended on his conscience, and everything in him screamed that something was very wrong. He suddenly needed to be out of here, on his way back to Kihyun as fast as possible--

“No, thanks. Actually, I better go, I still have some at-home work to do and an early morning tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Hyungwon grinned, turning to the bartender and paying both of their tabs. Though Hyunwoo had protested this little routine at first, the younger man always brushed it off as nothing. I’m a stockbroker, for heaven’s sake. Let me splurge sometimes, huh? “Take care, hyung. Also, I hope that whoever needed that advice finds what they’re looking for.”

It took a Herculean effort for Hyunwoo to swallow the bullfrog stuck in his throat.

He practically ran home, and the terrible feeling grew with every step. It felt like an eternity, but probably was closer to five minutes, before he was crashing through the door of his house and desperately calling, “Kihyunnie, Kihyunnie, where are you--”

No sooner had he said the nymph’s name that his gaze came to rest on a terrible sight. There on the floor of the entryway, in a pile of dirt, red terracotta, and fading green leaves was his Kihyunnie, motionless and unresponsive. In only a few more seconds, Hyunwoo realized what had happened.

See, in the nymph’s hand was a sharp sushi knife--the very same one Hyunwoo had almost used in self-defense the night they’d met. Also nearby, on its side, was Kihyun’s plant. There were huge gashes in the wood, and for every one of those, a bleeding cut existed on its guardian’s body. “Hurt the tree, hurt me,” Kihyun had once said. Now, he’d used that knowledge against himself, practically to commit suicide.

Hyunwoo heard himself screaming, but he wasn’t sure if it was real or not; everything was too much for him to handle. He ran to Kihyun’s side and fell to his knees, his pant legs and shoes getting soaked with sticky red blood in the process. Carefully, but with trembling hands, he lifted the nymph’s limp body into his arms and brushed his orange locks out of his eyes.

“H--Hyunwoo…”

“Ssh, ssh, I’m here.” Tears flowed unfettered down Hyunwoo’s face. “Oh my God, Kihyun, oh my fucking--God--why? Why'd you--?”

“I--I’m sorry. I was--ugh, so, so angry…” The nymph broke into a sad smile, but it only lasted a moment; he coughed and cried out in pain. “I wasn’t in my right mind, shoulda realized sooner that anything with you, reciprocated or not, is better than this.”

“No, I’m gonna help you. I’m gonna fix this, I’ve gotta fix this--”

A familiar hand caressed the human's cheek, and Kihyun pulled Hyunwoo’s gaze back to him. It was clear that the little nymph was fading fast. His skin was turning rapidly grayer, and his eyes drooped shut. He kept steady for as long as it could, but his strength didn’t last much longer. “Stop, don’t bother, hyung. There’s no hope for me. I’m s--sorry, this is my--my fault.”

“P--please, stay with me...Kihyun-ah...I--”

Hyunwoo never got to finish; it was too late. There, in his arms, the little plant spirit passed away. Though he didn’t want to believe it at first, some part of him realized that truth, and his heart shattered irreparably.

“--I love you…”

Despite his deep and utter grief, Hyunwoo made himself do what was necessary. He chopped the sprawling limbs off of Kihyun’s plant and wrapped his body in the hollow trunk. The corpse’s skin had turned to bark, so it probably would decompose in the same way as its vessel. Then, he buried everything in a shallow grave in the backyard. Hyunwoo wished he could do better; however, he didn’t have a clue how. Laying the little plant spirit to rest and letting nature take its course was all he had. Somehow, it seemed fitting. Kihyun had come from the Earth, and he seemed destined to return.

Hoping to return to some semblance of normal, Hyunwoo went to work the next day. Even there, he felt sullen and unmotivated, though. Necessary tasks got done, but when he’d try to do anything else, it felt slow and meaningless. Still, he didn’t realize exactly how bad it was until Seyoung summoned him to his office and urged the younger man to go home. He even granted him permission to take the rest of the week off. Hyunwoo was too sad and defeated to argue, so he gave in and did.

The hours he spent alone and away from the marketing company dragged, and yet passed too quickly. He didn’t feel any better afterward, but still threw himself back into the responsibilities his employment brought.

It would turn out that the phrase ‘time heals all wounds’ was somewhat true, but moving on was harder than waiting for the pain to pass. Hyunwoo missed his Kihyunnie. Everything in his house reminded him of the nymph, so coming home after a nine to five was torture. He could barely sit on the couch and watch television without feeling a ghost of a small body snuggled into his side. His bed was lonely and cold, and there were some nights he couldn’t even sleep because his heart physically hurt. Last, but definitely not least, the whole house felt empty without the plant’s vines spread throughout and the subtle, pleasant scent of its little flowers. So extensive and devastating was his sadness that he even stopped taking care of his other rescued plants. Slowly, they began to turn brown and brittle.

Seasons passed, and Hyunwoo still felt like a dead man walking. Sometimes, he wondered if he’d ever be able to get back to normal. There were whispers that he’d lost his passion, and Hyungwon was even worried sick, as Hyunwoo never wanted to go out anymore or see anyone. The older man isolated himself from the world. Everywhere he turned, the world looked bleak. His life meant nothing without Kihyun by his side.

Finally, when the last snows melted away and the first baby birds of Spring hatched out of their eggs, Hyunwoo decided that it was about time to stop moping and get his life together again. That would require him to do hard things, but he was ready. Starting with the mess that had accumulated around the house over the past few months, he cleaned everything and anything that was dirty. Every spot of dust he wiped away made him feel better. Every once in a while, it'd become hard for a while when he’d find a withered flower petal or leaf.

The singular thing he dreaded the most was the windowsill and what was once his collection of flora. Every single one of them was dead, as his neglect starved them for water. It was tough, but that didn’t stop him from facing the task, though. Hyunwoo had no choice but to get rid of them as well.

Disturbing the spot where Kihyun lay was unthinkable. So, Hyunwoo cleared a patch of earth on the other side of the sidewalk, dug a few holes, and dumped the plants there, potting soil and all, one by one. Hyunwoo was physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausted from the work, and also the pain of his swirling thoughts, by the time it was over. As unwelcoming as the couch still was, a nap on it sounded fantastic.

However, then, for some unknown reason, Hyunwoo glanced toward the side of the yard he had been trying to avoid. Perhaps it was coincidence, perhaps fate, because one tiny, almost unnoticeable detail drew his eye.

Amongst the green grass that was sprouting in the area was a familiar sight: three tiny, slender shoots, arranged in a triangle and each topped with a ㄱ leaf.

The realization stopped him his tracks, and his vision became blurry as his eyes filled with tears. Was it true, or was he just seeing things? His shovel clattered to the sidewalk, and he ran over, dropping to his knees next to the small plant. Pushing away the grass around it, he touched one stem with his finger and sucked in a stunned breath. No, this wasn’t a dream. Kihyun’s plant was once again growing out of the soil.

Hyunwoo’s mind whirled as he went inside to grab a tiny terracotta pot and its makeshift saucer. What did this mean? Could Kihyun live again? Even if not, Hyunwoo would try with all his might to make it so. The thought lifted a burden from his heart, even if he took the possibility that Kihyun might be dead and gone into consideration.

For the first time since losing the one he loved, Hyunwoo had hope again.

He prayed that this was his second chance.

[jessixalogan-blog]

I'm Asking For An Absolution; Chapter One

Rating: T; for sprinkles of language

Characters: Jessica Logan, Wyatt Logan, Emma Whitmore, Lucy Preston

Relationships: WyJess, Garcy, possible Riya

Summary: "I know I've done nothing to deserve anything from you...but I'm begging you, please, help me."

Jessica's nails drummed on the desk. A satisfying noise that she could honestly listen to all day long. She was boring easily today, though. She huffed and looked at her watch. (12:56pm) Emma had been gone for 4 hours. Something has either gone wrong, or she has everything under complete control and is just making a show of everything. Jessica rolled her eyes, thinking of the last time Emma had done just that, and sighed. She was hungry, but there was nothing to eat here and she couldn't go get something. She was tired but she couldn't sleep, on account of Emma appointing her watch-dog. 

Her hand that was drumming on the table, lowered to her swollen belly. The being inside reacted promptly to the sensation and gave Jessica a swift kick. "Woah, little dude." She yawned. "It's just me." 

She grabbed her phone—yes, she was allowed her phone and basically free access to anything. Besides, Emma doesn't have to know about everything. Lazily and mindlessly, swiping her pattern to unlock it, she opened her camera and tried to record the baby reacting to her touch. Smiling as she caught two kicks, she stopped the video and sent it to her husband. In the message box below, she wrote, Four months. 

She felt like crying, when she was done. (Hormones mostly.) She missed her husband dearly, and she so wanted him to be apart of her pregnancy and more importantly the child's life. She had no idea if he got her texts, if he looked at them. If they made him happy to see the development of his baby. Did he care care at all? 

Surely he did. Surely. They way he looked at her in the alley, the way he sounded...surely he meant it. She tried to stay in touch—behind Emma's back, she'll have you know—but it was radio silence from him.

Four months later... 

Jessica usually kept her distance from Emma. It's not that she didn't like her, it's just...Emma rubbed her the wrong way. Everything Wyatt told her about his Jessica and all the time they had spent together, made her question. Hell, that night in Chinatown made her question everything. (She couldn't do anything about it, though. And she wasn't about to risk the life of her unborn child.) So she just kept her distance, and came when called. 

Earlier in this afternoon, Emma was pissed. And not "I Broke My Mom's Favourite Dish And Now I'm Grounded For Life" pissed but "I Crashed Dad's Truck Into A Tree and I'll Be Lucky If I Live Through The Night" pissed. Jessica's whole body tensed and her hands instinctively flew to her very pronounced​, round belly. 

"The bitch!" She yelled. She tugged at her hair, and honestly looked like a child. Jessica bit her lip. "And the...bastards." 

Jessica didn't ask what happened. She never asked. She let Emma cool off and if she wanted to talk, Jessica would talk with her. (It was never anything personal. Always business—Rittenhouse—related.) 

Tonight, Jessica was playing Beer Pong (because what else?) on her phone, on the crappy couch, when Emma finally spoke up. She sat across the room, at the desk. The computer screen lit up her face. 

"You know, we can't keep it, right? We can't." It was an out of the blue statement that was said so nonchalantly. With no care—she didn't even look at Jess. "It was an accident." 

Jessica's heart sped up. She had a feeling she knew what Emma was talking about, but for safe measure she asked, "Excuse me? What?" 

Emma's eyes flickered to her but only for a nanosecond. "The baby," She clarified. "We can't keep it." 

Jessica set aside her phone and tried to calm herself down, mentally. No, no, no, no. She sat up straighter, willed tears not to fall at the mere idea. 

"What? Why?" She didn't exactly yell, but her voice was louder than before. 

"Because, Jessica," Emma now turned to her. "I didn't really like you. But I kept you around because I could use the back up. You're a good asset and damn good with a gun. But now you've gotten yourself knocked up and are barely any help. When it arrives, you sure as hell won't be able to do anything." 

Jessica couldn't even speak. Her heart jumped to her throat. (This stress wasn't good for the baby, she told herself. She needed to calm down.) She shook her head. "No, no." Louder again, "I figured we could raise it here—in Rittenhouse. Become an asset, an agent. I—" 

"What is a newborn going to provide to Rittenhouse?" 

"Well, obviously not as a newborn. He—or she—would have to be considerably older," She was speaking quickly. Her sentences blurred together. She tried to say anything and everything that would get this ridiculous notion out of her head. Rittenhouse, the baby could grow up in Rittenhouse. "But maybe in 13 years, it could be helpful—" 

"That's 13 years, Jessica. I cannot wait that long. I don't have the time nor the patience." 

Jessica was on the verge of tears but she wiped then away and shook her head once more. "No." 

"Yes," Emma said. "That's what Rittenhouse is about—sacrifice. Sacrifice for the greater good. When was the last time you truly sacrificed something?" 

"My husband!" That time she did yell and maybe one stray tear fell. "My husband." 

"Please. Save the hormonal drama. The baby isn't staying. That's final." 

Rather childishly, Jessica grabbed her phone and ran to the other room. Jessica cried herself to sleep and Emma felt a clench in the stomach. But she ignored it, as usual. 

3 weeks later...

Newborn baby smell was amazing, it was almost indescribable. It was joy; Jess couldn't be happier. It was relief; she was no longer pregnant. It was bittersweet; she would no longer feel the baby moving inside of her but now she got to hold it. It was sadness; Emma was going to take it away. 

Jessica was not prepared for this baby. No matter how much she wanted to be, how often she tried to leave, Emma didn't let her. "It's not staying, so you don't need anything," She would say. 

Emma had left for a trip that she said she was going to be gone for longer than usual. The baby had come early. (Jessica delivered it herself. Scared witless but she had read enough that she was somewhat confident that she could do it.) Tears rolled freely. She couldn't give this baby up. She had tried to detach herself from it. Had stopped sending Wyatt updates, videos and pictures. But when the little thing screamed and took its first breath...it was overwhelming. She could never give up this child. 

She cleaned the baby off best as she could, cleaned herself up and hobbled to her room. She grabbed her phone and, with shaky hands, punched in Wyatt's number. The baby fell asleep against her chest and a sob escaped her throat. 

Wyatt didn't answer. He never did. 

She looked around and made a quick decision. 

Run. 

She limped around, still very sore and tender—she really shouldn't be walking—she grabbed a basket and a towel, laid the baby inside the basket and grabbed the keys that Emma did not "hide". 

She grabbed the basket and headed for the door. She didn't spare one look back as she hopped in the jet black vehicle. Before starting the car, she took the SIM card out of her phone and chucked it at the building—somewhat angrily. The phone was completely useless now except for the memories it held. 

It scared the ever living crap out of Jessica to put her hour-old baby in a basket in the floorboard of the car. She drove fast and with purpose but carefully, glancing at the baby every 5 seconds. (It was sound asleep.) 

It was hours before she made it where she wanted to be. Wyatt was right; she knew where the bunker was. And they hadn't moved. (She was a little surprised, honestly.) 

She got out of the car and grabbed her baby and headed for the latch. She approached very, very carefully and warily, not wanting to get shot at. No one was guarding the latch. 

(They were really confident in the idea that no one was going to find them, it would seem.) 

She hadn't thought this through. The only way in...was down. Down a ladder. And she was 90% sure there could be an alarm that would go off the second she opened it. She didn't remember any when Wyatt had brought her, but a lot has changed. 

(Another thought had just come to her, Wyatt could be gone. Back in time, trying to stop Emma... She internally panicked but kept her head.) 

Deciding she could climb the ladder one-handed (she's done it before. Just not with a baby...), she set the basket down and opened the latch. 

No alarms. She thanked whatever God was watching out for her today. She carefully took the baby out of the basket and held it close to her chest. With deep breaths, she started down. 

Climbing a ladder. Something you shouldn't do three hours after giving birth. Jessica could scream. But she bit her tongue. 

She made it to the bottom. She took five feet worth of steps—in agony—before she came face to face with Lucy. 

Lucy's face was pure panic. She was about to run the other direction, scream, something to draw attention. But Jessica beat her. 

"Please," Her voice came out hoarse and she was suddenly aware of how much of a Trainwreck she probably looked. "Please." 

Lucy noticed the bundle in her arms. And closed her mouth. She shifted from one foot to the other. Her hair was half pulled up and she was wearing an oversized burgundy, turtleneck. If they weren't in this situation, Jessica would have smirked. 

"I know I've done nothing to deserve anything from you," Jessica yelled at herself internally for sounding so weak. "but I'm begging you...help me. Please." 

Lucy was very skeptical. And for good reason, Jessica would admit. She eyed Jessica up and down, noticed the slightly bent knees, and the spots of blood that were sporadic from her waist down. (Jessica had forgotten about that, but she didn't care.) Lucy concluded that she had indeed just given birth and was in no position to bring a fight. (Even if she tried, in Jessica's current state, The Team could beat her to anything.) Lucy nodded and beckoned Jessica to follow her. 

[productivedramaqueen]

I'll Be A Better Man Today (2) - Reggie Mantle X Reader

Summary: part two to ‘better man’. reggie attempts to win his girl back, but it backfire spectacularly. Warnings: mentions of bullying, like one swear word. A/N: there will be a part three to this. the inspiration just flowed when i started writing, and it’s been a while since that happened so i’m going with it. hope you like it!

**

The week passed by painfully slow. Every day meant another attempt by Reggie as he tried his best to win you back. Tuesday morning saw him waiting outside your house in his Jeep, waiting for you. The car hummed quietly, the radio playing a selection of your favourite songs. You spotted him the moment you stepped out the front door. You froze, not expecting to have to face him just yet. He smiled cautiously out the window, and waved.

You turned on your heels and reentered the house. After a few uncertain seconds, he saw you leave - with a set of keys hanging from one hand. Without sparing him a second glance, you unlocked your fathers sleek silver Ford and got into the drivers seat, tossing your backpack into the passenger side, and starting up the engine. Reggie’s car blocked your exit; you met his gaze, expectantly. His face fell, and he pulled away from the kerb. You turned out the opposite way; it would take longer to get to school this way, but you took that route anyway. Reggie was in the parking lot, Moose by his side, and he waved again as you parked, on the other side of the lot. You walked towards the building, not looking back once.

But Reggie wasn’t ready to give up just yet. He waited outside your math class, and walked alongside you toward your english, and then sat down next to you at lunch. Jughead, Archie, Betty and Veronica looked a little surprised, exchanging glances, what should we do?

They didn’t have to do anything. You simply got up and left, disappearing into the large crowd of students in a matter of seconds. Reggie groaned and lay his head on the table. He glanced up at Jughead, and Archie immediately tensed. Jughead shot him a sideways look, but Reggie just left.

** You weren’t sure if you were more annoyed or secretly happy that Reggie was, once again, waiting for you Wednesday morning. You followed the same routine as the previous day; ignoring him, getting in the car, ignoring him, driving to school, parking, ignoring him, and going to class. However, Reggie knew it was time to start stepping up his game.

He waited by your locker at eleven am with a cup full of your favourite coffee. You slammed the door; 'I just had one.’ Reggie’s shoulders slumped, and he dumped the coffee in the first trashcan he came upon. That evening, he got your favourite Pop’s order and brought it to your house - after an extremely generous tip he convinced Pop to break the takeaway rule - and again, your dad had to open the door.

'Did he hurt you in any way?’ He asked you, later, as he devoured the meal meant for you. You shook your head, running your hands through your hair. 'No, not me,’ you muttered, looking down at the table.

'He seems like a sweet boy,’ your dad told you. He is, you think, just not to everyone.

**

Thursday morning, and Reggie waited for you again. You ignored him, again. Halfway through the day and the only gift you’d received was a handwritten note shoved through the open vent in your locker. It read 'you look beautiful today. love you, r x’. Crumpling it in your fist, you’d nearly thrown it away, but changed your mind at the last second, instead tucking it into your personal journal. You were wary; was he giving up?

No, of course not. Cheryl and Moose ambushed you on your way to science, and dragged you off to the gym. You protested, the whole way there, but Cheryl shut you up with a snippy retort about how much she knew you hated the class. The gym was empty, save for the entire squad of River Vixens, clad in their cheer uniforms, and Reggie, who was earnestly talking to Betty and Veronica. Both looked unsure, and my stomach clenched uncomfortably.

'Reggie! The guest of honour is here!’ Cheryl called, cheerful. The tall boy turned, a face splitting grin brightening his face the moment his eyes fell on you. For a moment, you almost smiled back - you forced it back, turning to the redhead on your left. 'Cheryl, what is this?’

'Sit, sit!’ She insisted, pushing you toward the bleachers and giving you a shove so you hit the bench, hard. 'Ouch!’ She rolled her eyes, and stalked back towards her squad. You climbed a few benches further up, Moose settling next to you. 'Do you know what this is?’ You asked, nerves writhing like snakes in your belly. He simply smirked.

'Okay, ladies! Lets go!’

Music filled the airy room, a high-tempo, upbeat rhythm, and the cheerleaders began to dance. You stared, not sure about what was going on. You could feel Reggie’s dark brown eyes on you, never once moving anywhere else. You kept your own eyes on the girls. The music quietened down, and they began to chant.

All the blood in your face drained away, embarrassment overwhelming you. The urge to cringe was almost painful; when you risked a glance in Reggie’s direction, he was blushing, a bashful smile on his lips.

'1, 2, 3, 4, who does Reginald adore?

5, 6, 7, 8, (Y/N), don’t say it’s too late!'

The squad finished their routine, bowing, Cheryl clearly pleased by their - or her own - performance, if the smug smile and flip of her long red hair was anything to go by. The music stopped. Silence stretched out endlessly; you could have heard a pin drop. Betty and Veronica were watching you - well, they all were, Reggie looked nervous but hopeful, Cheryl and the squad expectant. But Betty and Veronica were watching you with concern in their eyes. After a long moment, you stood up, shakily. 'That was really, really great, girls. Well done,’ your voice was strangled, and the hopeful look dropped off Reggie’s face. You headed straight for the exit. Footsteps followed - three sets, one you recognised as Reggie’s, the other two lighter, Betty and Veronica.

'Just - give me a minute with her, please!’ Reggie pleaded with the girls - you heard them sigh, giving in.

You rounded a corner, into the empty hallway. Reggie caught up with you, skidding to a halt in front and grabbing you by the shoulders. 'Wait, (Y/N), just talk to me-’

He was slightly out of breath, his hair falling over his forehead endearingly - you snapped. ’Talk to you? What do you want me to say? What the - what the fuck was that?’ Reggie cringed at the curse as it slipped from your mouth - you only ever swore when you were pissed beyond belief.

'I’m trying to prove to you how much I love you!’

You rolled your eyes; 'That’s not-! Ugh!’ Frustration hit you like never before, how could he still be so blind?

'Tell me what I can do, and I’ll do it, baby, please,’ he begged, trying to drag you closer to him, but you resisted, standing your ground.

'I told you! I asked you, a million times, to stop being such an ass to Jughead and everyone else you think is 'lower’ than you!’ You yelled, really losing your temper now. Not caring if someone heard, you kept going. 'You said you would but you never did! Is it really so hard to treat people as human beings, Reg? That’s all I wanted! I can’t date a bully!’

The words were like a slap to the face for the football player, the last one in particular. But he knew he couldn’t deny it; he was a jerk toward certain people, at this point, it was just a habit. He knew you and Jughead were friends, and, okay, maybe he was a little jealous of your friendship so maybe he had pushed the school loner a little harder than usual.

As what you said really hit you, you looked away and suddenly found more tears burning behind your eyes. You were sick of crying, sick of pining after Reggie. He wanted to know how to get you back? Well, now he knew. The ball was in his court. 'Get your shit together, and then we can talk,’ you said finally, firmly. You walked away. Reggie let you, still feeling guilty as he thought back on all the times he knocked Jughead into a locker, called him something nasty, even punched the smaller boy. He stood, alone in the hallway, until the next bell sounded out, and students poured from the mouths of classroom like prisoners from a cell. He didn’t even realise until the sea of bodies began shoving past him, and then he snapped back to reality. Turning, he slammed straight into the one and only Jughead Jones.

Automatically, he opened his mouth to snap at him - then, he thought of you, and closed it again.

'Sorry, man, that was my bad,’ he said, quietly, seeing the look of absolute shock on Jug’s face. His eyes widened, and he asked if Reggie was feeling okay. The taller boy laughed. 'Honestly? No.’ He shook his head and looked down. Discomfited at the sadness in Reggie’s face, he struggled to think of something to say - not for his sake, though. For yours, for his best friend.

'Look, man, if this is about (Y/N)…’ something like pain flashed in deep brown eyes and Jughead wished he’d bitten his tongue off instead of speaking. He shook his head, mumbling an apology. Reggie called him back, voice brighter all of a sudden. 'I think I know how to fix things.’

Reggie was planning something big, Jughead could tell. He’d known him a long, long time, and the calculating look that had replaced the sadness on his face made him nervous.

'Oh, no,’ Jughead said emphatically, 'why do I have a feeling this fixer-upper involves me?’

Reggie smiled. Yeah, he knew what he had to do.

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

hunger - chapter 8

Hunger master post

Stiles blinks his eyes open and finds himself gazing up at a series of beige ceiling panels. He feels his usual burst of fear at being in an unfamiliar place, and tries to move. Metal clinks, and his arm catches. Stiles turns his head to discover that he’s handcuffed to a bed.

He blinks again.

He’s in a hospital room. The air is cold and smells of antiseptic. There are sticky tabs stuck to his chest, and one of those clip things on the end of his finger. The heart monitor next to the bed starts to blip excitedly as Stiles’s fear rises.

He’s still wearing his jeans and his socks, but where are his shirt and his hoodie? His shoes? And his knife? And—

And his dog.

Stiles claps his free hand over his mouth to muffle the sob that tries to escape him. He twists as the door to the room opens, and the cuff rattles along the rail of the bed.

It’s Scott’s mom.

She shows him a small smile as she crosses toward his bed, and that’s enough to end him. His sobs grow louder, and he tries to roll onto his side and pull his knees up. To preserve what little dignity he’s got left, or something.

Mrs. McCall is having none of that. She leans over him and puts her arms around him. “It’s okay, Stiles. You had a panic attack and you were pretty out of it there for a while, but you’re safe here, and it’s going to be okay.”

She smells a little of the hospital, but mostly of warmth and safety, and the body wash Stiles used in the McCalls’ shower. Stiles returns the hug with his one free arm and cries into her shoulder.

“She killed my dog!”

Mrs. McCall flinches, and Stiles remembers that her interaction with the dog hadn’t been exactly positive. She’s too nice to mention that though. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”

“He protected me,” Stiles cries. “He saved me. When I was sick he brought me food.”

“Oh.” She tightens her hold on him. “Oh, Stiles.”

Behind her, the door opens again.

Mrs. McCall straightens up, her expression hardening as she turns on the man entering the room. “You’d better be here to take this child’s handcuffs off, Jordan.”

Her sudden fierce protectiveness amplifies the ache inside Stiles’s chest. It’s like an echo inside an otherwise empty cavern, all that space carved out where the people he loved used to be. His mom. His dad. The dog.

Parrish steps forward, fumbling for his keys. “I had to use the bathroom, Melissa, and I didn’t want him giving me the slip.”

“Am I under arrest?” Stiles asks.

Parrish hesitates, then stands beside Melissa and unlocks the cuff from Stiles’s wrist. “Yeah.”

Melissa juts her chin out. “What for?”

“Assault with a deadly weapon,” Parrish says.

“But I didn’t—” Stiles thinks of his knife, but of course that’s not what Parrish means. “I didn’t tell the dog to attack.”

“That’s not what Deputy Argent says,” Parrish tells him.

Of course it’s not, because Kate Argent is a fucking liar.

Parrish takes the cuffs back and puts them back on his belt. He sighs. “Look, I’m pretty sure she’ll be happy not to file the charges if you help us out some.”

“She shot my dog,” Stiles says. “Why the fuck should I help her out?”

“You want to ride that attitude all the way to juvie?” Parrish asks. His expression is more concerned than angry. “And it would be juvie, right? You are a minor. So why not start with telling me your name, so we can get you back home where you belong?”

“Jamie Williams,” Stiles says. It’s a common name. It’s as common as John Smith probably, but not so obviously a lie. Stiles bets there are a shit ton of teenagers called James Williams in the system, and he’s willing to let the cops wade through every single one.

He catches Mrs. McCall’s gaze. Her mouth is a thin line, but she doesn’t speak up.

“Where are you from, Jamie?” Parrish asks.

Stiles just shrugs.

Parrish has that same patient look his dad always did when he was dealing with what he called difficult customers. Dad always said one of the signs of a good cop was them not taking it personally when someone was yanking their chain. Parrish seems like that sort of cop. Fair-minded, and slow to anger.

“Any reason you don’t want to answer that question?” he asks. His gaze is shrewd. “Trouble at home?”

“Nope,” Stiles says.

Parrish nods slowly. “Because if there was, then I could put you in touch with people who could help you out.”

Yeah no. Child Protective Services has been helping Stiles out for four years, thanks. He’s never going to be one of their success stories. And he knows that there are good foster families out there. Of course there are. Just that Stiles has always had shit luck, hasn’t he? He’s nobody’s shiny new son. Not with all the baggage he’s dragging along behind him like a crippled limb.

“No,” he says.

“Okay,” Parrish says. “Then I guess we’re going to talk about this at the station.”

“I guess we are,” Stiles says.

“Jordan,” Mrs. McCall says. “He’s clearly dehydrated and malnourished. The doctor wants to keep him here for observation until morning at least. I don’t care if you get a chair and sit outside, but I’m going to need you to leave him alone to sleep, okay?”

Parrish sighs again.

“Go,” Mrs. McCall tells him. “Outside. Sit.”

He retreats, and the door closes behind him.

“You bully cops a lot?” Stiles asks her softly.

“Only when they deserve it.” She wrinkles her brow. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t tell him your name, Stiles.”

“If they send me back to care, they’ll just lie to me again,” he says. The machine by the bed beeps faster as his heart rate rises. “They’ll put my back in some shitty placement where some shitty guy stands in my bedroom door and stares at me while he jerks off.” He drops his gaze so he doesn’t have to see the horror and disgust on her face. “You know what the real kicker is though? I wouldn’t have cared what happened as long as they let me visit my dad.”

Mrs. McCall curls her fingers through his.

“I would have been the best behaved kid in the world if they’d let me see my dad,” he says. It’s the truth. He would have let his foster mother’s boyfriend do whatever the hell he wanted if the right payoff had been on offer. “But either they’re punishing me or they’re punishing him, but they always came up with some reason I couldn’t go.” He swallows around the lump in his throat. “I made it as far as Fresno once before they told me the visit got canceled.”

He sees the realization flash through Mrs. McCall’s eyes even before she asks the question. “Stiles, where is your dad?”

“Mendota.” Stiles swallows again. “Doing thirty-eight to forty-three years.”

“Oh my god,” Mrs. McCall says, and a hand flies to her mouth. No, it wasn’t realization. It was recognition. “Oh my god. Your real name isn’t Stiles, is it? You’re Claudia Stilinski’s little boy! You’re her Mischief!”

 ***

 There was a time when Stiles’s face was known by most of the nurses at Beacon Hills Memorial. He was eight then. Mischief by name, they used to say, and Mischief by nature.

Memory is a funny thing.

It takes dribs and drabs and shakes them up and stitches them together and looks for the patterns they make.

At one time, Mieczyslaw Stilinski must have done something to stick in Melissa McCall’s memory. He was a fixture around the hospital for a few months, and then he must have been a footnote—that poor boy. First losing his mother, and now his father—but enough to snag in her mind.

And now the pieces have fallen back into place.

“My dad didn’t do it,” Stiles says, his voice quiet. “He didn’t. I came back here to prove it. Please don’t tell them who I am. Please.”

 ***

 Mrs. McCall is silent for a long while. She keeps a firm grip on Stiles’s hand, and rubs her thumb over and over his knuckles. Stiles has no idea what she’s thinking. He has no idea what she’s going to tell Parrish.

She leans in close, an errant curl of her dark hair brushing Stiles’s cheek. “In twenty minutes there’s going to be a disturbance on another ward. I’ll get Parrish to go and help. Go out the back entrance.”

She leans back again, and Stiles stares at her blankly.

“Did you get that?” she asks. She reaches down and picks up a bag from the floor. “Your clothes and your shoes. Stiles, do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“Y-yeah,” he said, even though it seems too impossible to be real. “I understand.”

She squeezes his hand. “Don’t make me regret this, Mischief.”

Stiles nods, and uses his spare hand to wipe his eyes. “I won’t.”

 ***

 “I can’t believe my mom did that,” Scott says an hour later. He’s been saying it ever since he picked Stiles up from the hospital parking lot, in varying tones of disbelief tinged with admiration.

He lugs a pillow and a comforter down the basement stairs.

The McCalls’ basement is kind of a mess, but there’s an old pullout couch amid the stacks of boxes and assorted detritus, and it looks a hell of a lot more comfortable than anything Stiles has slept on for months.

“I’m really sorry about your dog,” he says.

Stiles hasn’t told him much about what happened, except that he had a run in with the police and the dog was shot. He doesn’t feel capable of saying much, actually. He’s still in shock, and he knows if he thinks for a second about everything the dog meant to him—

He pushes the thought away. He doesn’t want to cry in front of Scott.

He’s been at the house long enough to shower and change into warm clothes. His own clothes are in the washing machine. He watches as Scott makes up a bed on the foldout couch.

Stiles has put his shoes back on. He can feel the hard wedge of the folded paper under the arch of his foot. Luckily whoever took his shoes off him at the hospital didn’t check them. It must’ve been a nurse, not Parrish.

His knife, of course, is gone.

He hopes Scott hasn’t noticed he’s still wearing his shoes.

Because, fuck, he wants to stay here. It’s warm and it’s comfortable, and he’s pretty fucking sure that neither of the McCalls will turn him in now they’ve both made themselves accessories. But also…

But also the police aren’t stupid. It won’t take them long to figure out exactly who was behind Stiles’s disappearance from the hospital. Stiles is expecting a knock on the door any second now.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” Scott asks, his expression hopeful. “We can make popcorn.”

Stiles follows him back up the stairs. “Sure,” he says. “Popcorn sounds great.”

“So,” Scott throws over his shoulder, “Allison said she was checking her history on her laptop, and she wants to know why you were Googling her aunt?”

Stiles almost misses a step. “What?”

“Her aunt,” Scott says. “Kate Argent.”

Stiles’s blood turns to ice.

“Do you want plain butter popcorn, or caramel?”

“Um, plain butter?” Stiles isn’t sure he can hear his own voice over the roar of blood in his skull.

“Cool.” Scott heads for the kitchen. “So, Allison’s aunt?”

Stiles runs for the front door.

“Stiles? Stiles!”

 ***

 There’s a park on Jefferson Street. It’s quiet. Stiles isn’t stupid enough to sleep on one of the benches. Instead, he crawls behind the hedge of manzanitas that look like they were planted in an effort to beautify the maintenance shed, and curls up in the dirt to sleep.

It’s cold, and Stiles feels smaller and more alone than he has in a long time.