#patchwork labs

[soul-eater-screencaps]

[bcbdrums]

Headcanon that Stein painted the arrows on his laboratory floor so he’ll know the literal and metaphorical right way to go. It’s a measure against madness, something to help keep him sane.

[noir-drabbles]

Dyrage 1

Summary: Long has Dyrage split off his attachments to the face you wore. As long as he is here, it must be kept that way. His job, at the current moment, is just to question you, to see if you have memories other than the one you have consumed.

(Ooof, been a while huh? Anyways, no clue if I want to make this character canon or not, but he's been on the brain so I wrote about him anyway. And also because these are literally my little brain creations, I can make anything or nothing canon as I wish. So... yeah!)

And in all your gross and pulsating meaty mass, you closed the distance, getting right into his face with the one that haunts his dreams. This part was human, but that's about as far as it goes. Only skin deep.

And yet, there was something in Dyrage that just… hopes that there was something else in there, that you didn't just copy the genetic and memorial make up of a person. That, somehow or another, you were the soul who's face you were. And that, if it's true, then surely there should be more. You were cut off from a bigger mass, from a red deeply red moss that grew on that divine tree.

A tree that made itself a forest out of Dyrage's own home.

"Does Serenity Hill seem familiar to you in any way."

All of this could've been done behind glass or even thousands of feet above, Dyrage knows that, but he, to an extent, also knows this creature. He knows you, and he knows that you have a particular diet. Or, rather, you know what it is he white coats want.

Stubborn. So stubborn that you would rather eat foods that disgust you. You're starving yourself and you don't care.

Dyrage want to pretend he doesn't know why he tries, but he hates lying to himself. Delusions were a color he'd much rather leave far behind him.

You tilted your head then leaned back, the membranes above his head twitching and turning with your every thought.

"Serenity Hill…" you reached both hands high above you, as though you were reaching up for the sun you're never allowed to see, "The village of white peaches and stagnation. The flavor was always stale upon the tongue, no matter how much effort was poured into the yield. And the texture… it was like biting into a ball of moss."

…The face that you wear and the voice that you speak with. He can't speak of purity, he can't say anything about tarnishing, but he wishes you were nothing more than a monstrosity. Back to that flesh being that was simply that, inhuman flesh in a tube. At least then you wouldn't be able to extract things from his most precious memories.

You speak of his home, of those white peaches as though you were actually there.

But that is all he can do. His thoughts are his alone. He can throw any number of insults within and not worry of what will happen outside.

"And where does this memory originate from?" Dyrage had to grip his pen just so nothing shows on his face. The things he has seen and done, he can't falter. He won't falter.

Your torso twisted around with rubber elasticity. You bowed and were back in front of his face once more.

"You should know well where the memory comes from," Bored. Dyrage allowed himself to entertain your request and already you were getting bored of him. Of course. Of course! "I didn't know you to be one to ask redundant questions. Is there something you're hoping for?"

"It's all standard procedure."

"Liar."

"Simply answer the question and I won't lie to you anymore."

"Hmm," you eased back and settled into the wall of flesh that consumes half the room, as though reclining on a sofa, "Well, it's not as though I truly hate lies."

Dyrage knows that. That man, your pet as he's been called, is still alive to this day. Resting from the strain of fusing a strand of yourself into his spine, but resting and alive nonetheless. He remembers the recordings, about how he was fine and that he’ll be back shortly.

That man, Ash, was also full of lies. No matter the face, no matter the authority, he will lie to them if it means he will not be thought about. Like he wants to disappear and not matter to anyone.

"Don't lie anymore for today," you said with a smile that simply didn't belong, "Tomorrow you can lie as much as you like. I want to see them all one day. There's only so many one can wrap themselves around in before they're nothing more than a suffocating bug."

"The question. I’m still waiting for an answer."

"From this one," you pointed to your face, "Serenity Hill comes from the memories of this one. Nothing more, nothing less."

"…are you sure? Nothing beyond… this?"

Was there truly nothing? Nothing within that collective memory? Nothing from when you were nothing more than a part of a red mass nesting in the bark groves? Was your head truly that empty of anything?

"Nothing beyond, you weird little seeker you. I don't hold any other origin point to draw from. I only have one well. A well that I can peek into to gather all your secrets. Though… well, that doesn't matter now does it? My words hold no power to anyone besides you."

Because you are a,

"Monster. You are right to know your position here. Your awareness makes you all the more precious. And as precious of a being you are, you will be kept safe in mind, body and soul."

A soul that belongs to no one else but you. A soul that Dyrage will not recognize. A soul with no hope in it.

"And for that safety, I'm glad," you snuggled in deeper, smiling wider, "surely this status will apply to my extensions, to my other precious limbs?"

To that man. To one who named himself Ash.

"Of course, we can't very well afford to lose such precious things."

"Who's to say what would happen if they were cut from me. I can't very well control the muscle memory within if that were to happen. After all, my priorities have evolved past instincts, but that's not to say they don't exist anymore."

There is a base and it must not be forgotten. Dyrage will never forget the bloody pedestal you built yourself upon. Your interests are odd, but your instincts remain.

"I will keep that in mind."

But such threats have never held power over him anyway. If you don’t have even a single secret regarding your true origins, about that white tree that has sprouted and laid its roots over the roofs and soil of his homeland, then you held little power.

Your words mean nothing. They have to mean nothing. They must continue to mean nothing.

[1-800-clouds]

Hihi, wondering if anyone would like to photo dump a bunch of pictures of Stein's Lab? I need them for my soul eater rp server, it'd be a super big help 🙏 don't matter if they're se not or jst regular soul eater

[nurse-lena-blog]

It was nice to just chat again. I remembered the lab being much more spooky. Marie really made it feel more like a home.

[little-paperboat]

some quick jayvik / jayce / viktor headcanons for the road:

Viktor is good at sewing. In his concept art and in the scenes from his childhood, his clothes are a patchwork of different textiles. He’s learned to mend his clothes as a kid and can repair almost any hole or tear in a fabric. As a result, he’s a huge fan of patchworks and patterns, plain textiles feel almost unnatural to him

His hands are surprisingly steady. Unless his condition gives him pain in his wrists, hands and fingers, he'd never even shake when focusing on a task. Came in handy for all the hextech work

Jayce has built, or at the very least improved, Vik’s leg brace - multiple times. When he makes his own after breaking his leg, it’s almost a perfect copy of Vik’s own, so it means that Jayce knew how it worked and/or remembered it well enough to replicate it

It’s likely that Viktor also knows how to fix a lot of things - including basic, mundane things. A broken heater. Some kind of electronic equipment, like a radio post or a microwave. When something breaks his first instinct is to pry it open and check what's wrong. He never buys anything new if he can help it

They are both constantly on the verge of being dehydrated. Neither of them are drinking enough water I know it in my bones

They are never seen wearing glasses, which is both a crime and unrealistic, these guys do not have perfect vision. Give me Viktor with thin, gold-framed round glasses reading a book in bed. Give me Jayce with a slightly thicker silver frame, complaining that he’s always putting some kind on grease on on his glasses because of his work

Viktor is always cold, Jayce is always warm. Perfect combo for all weathers (Viktor still steals all the blankets all the time)

Jayce cuts both of their hair. Viktor’s hair grows fast and he doesn’t like loose strands falling on his forehead, it distracts him. Jayce always gives him a nice scalp massage too, that’s his favourite moment

Talking about massages, Jayce is definitely giving Viktor massages whenever he can. Those big strong hands taking care of his sore body?? Heaven. It takes Jayce ages to convince Viktor that he needs to take a break but when he does, it’s worth it

They both are cat persons... they just have very different cat energies

Viktor has been self medicating for years to help with his pain because medicine wasn’t available / affordable in the undercity - and then once in Piltover he didn’t even know what to ask for, so he just kept doing it "his way" since it worked just as well

Although I can see him straight up making his own painkillers from scratch, the kind that would knock anyone else out cold

Viktor probably has a lil chemistry lab somewhere, on top of all the hextech science, his own counterpart to Jayce's forge

Viktor is left handed, Jayce is ambidextrous

[enjakey]

The University and the Dorms We Hate

Pairing: [Jake x Fem!Reader]!University!Found-family au

I LOVED WRITING THIS FIC (14K) like it's so funny and loving and sweet and cute- yeah just read it guys. Can you tell I incorporated Loose? Try and find it, lol. I love writing 02z, they're so adorable.

So, I don't want to call this fic dark because it deals with some heavy things like depression, bullying and suicide (in context of sunghoon) and death in general. Mentions of ghosts, if you're scared of that. Lots of crack tho, It's all very funny. And soft. And found-family esque with Jake, Jay, Sunghoon and Y/N.

Please enjoy reading guys. I always appreciate feedback! Can't wait to talk and meet some of y'all. Would love making friends on this app. I can't think of anymore warnings to give so- enjoy! Also does anyone hate the whole tags thing? I swear it takes so long.

Summary: in which everyone that went to your university hated it- it was low budgeted and whoever ended up there made the worse decision of their lives. They were so out of funds that the boys dorm building collapsed, leading them to move into the girls’ dorm. Jake and Y/N hover in each other's lives before finally crashing into each other- protecting each other and their friends, Jay and Sunghoon.

Everyone hated Remnant University- the students, the faculty, the janitors, the registrar, even the pigeons that occasionally dropped dead on the quad. It was a cursed place, built not from vision but vanity- the brainchild of a man with too much money and far too much cocaine. He’d once called it his ‘gift to the people.’ The people, in return, had cursed his name into oblivion.

After his death- a coke-fueled heart attack in the university sauna, if the legends were true- the institution limped on. Tuition was cheap, admissions were easy, and something about the place drew in a strange crowd: brilliant minds with nowhere else to go, the kind of people the world chewed up and spat out.

As years passed, graduates clawed their way out through fake recommendation letters, falsified research papers, and internships that didn’t exist. Meanwhile, the next batch of the naive and desperate arrived- wide-eyed, hopeful, and doomed.

‘To all the students of Remnant University — welcome home.’

Y/N remembered staring at the banner during her orientation, its letters in gaudy bubble font, fluttering above the cracked main gate. She'd felt a flicker of awe then. Two years later, she couldn’t look at it without imagining setting it on fire. Home, my ass, she thought almost daily. She hated her classes. She hated the professors. She hated the eternal mildew stench that clung to the dorm walls and the way the lights flickered like a horror movie just before someone dies.

The campus itself was a patchwork nightmare- brutalist buildings long past their expiration date, lecture halls with ceilings that leaked when it didn’t rain, and an willow tree near the western edge that, according to campus lore, was cursed: a student had hung themselves from it every decade like clockwork. The library was missing half its books, the science lab still ran Windows 95, the food in the mess hall tasted like regret, and the only working coffee machine was in the faculty lounge, guarded like a sacred artifact.

Still, somehow, the place endured. Professors- the decent ones, anyway- stayed not out of loyalty, but out of pity. They knew Remnant had no soul, only suffering, and tried to ease the burden where they could.

And so, another semester dragged on, the sun too harsh, the wind too bitter, the future too far. And Remnant University, like a dying star, continued to pull in the lost and the brilliant, one pitiful student at a time.

That year, the boys dorm had given up, its foundation perishing.

It started with the water- or rather, the lack of it. Then came the black mold that bloomed across the ceilings like ink stains in a Rorschach test. The final straw was the collapse of the third-floor corridor during midterms, taking down three bathrooms, two residents, and the only functioning Wi-Fi router in the building.

Facilities blamed the students for “reckless behavior,” the students blamed the university for “being held together by asbestos and prayer,” and the administration issued a memo with bold Comic Sans that read: “This is an opportunity for community building!”

And so, with nowhere else to go, the boys were moved- en masse- into the already half-empty girls’ dorm.

It was chaos. Instant ramen wrappers multiplied like cockroaches, and hallways began to reek of Lynx body spray and unwashed laundry. Someone brought a pet iguana named Carl that no one could prove they owned- he just roamed freely, occasionally found sunbathing under the corridor light fixtures like he paid rent. Room assignments were haphazard; some girls returned from class to find unfamiliar boys lounging on their beanbags, raiding their snacks, or claiming, “oh, I thought this was 3B.”

The fact that each room had its own bathroom did little to soften the blow. Instead of fighting over communal showers, the wars shifted to noise complaints, door-slamming at odd hours, and passive-aggressive sticky notes about ‘the walls are thin- I can hear everything.’

One girl woke up to find her mirror fogged with the message “YOU’RE NEXT :)”- it turned out it was just her neighbor playing a prank with a Sharpie and a blow dryer, but the girl moved out the next morning anyway.

Y/N had to share her hallway with a group of engineering boys who mistook deodorant for optional and thought whispering at 2 a.m. counted as being quiet. One of them set off the fire alarm trying to microwave a boiled egg. Another kept trying to convince everyone he was the reincarnation of Tesla. The hallway now smelled like socks, rejection, and desperation.

“Community building,” Y/N muttered as they stepped over a broken chair in the common room. “They should rename this place Lord of the Flies: Campus Edition.”

Still, no one left. No one ever really left.

The university had a grip on people- not because it was good, but because once you were here, it was like the outside world forgot you existed. Transfer applications got “lost.” Emails to other universities were mysteriously flagged as spam. Even the local newspapers referred to it as “that place near the quarry” like it didn’t deserve a real name.

And perhaps it didn’t.

Remnant wasn’t just a university. It was purgatory with a vending machine and barely functioning plumbing.

Y/N just didn’t realise this shift was some sort of ironic blessing in disguise.

A few months later, the chaos mellowed out.

The loudest, messiest ones either dropped out, transferred, or mysteriously stopped showing up- whether from burnout, academic probation, or just giving up and going home was anyone’s guess. The dorm slowly emptied again, and for the first time in a while, Y/N could hear her own thoughts past 10 pm.

The air felt different- less like a frat party gone wrong and more like a hospital wing during visiting hours. Quiet, but laced with an odd sense of shared survival. The broken furniture in the hallway had been cleared. Carl the iguana had found a permanent home in someone's terrarium (rumor had it, he'd been registered as an emotional support animal). The scent of chaos was replaced by something eerily neutral detergent, maybe. Or resignation.

Just a few rooms down from hers lived Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon- three boys who, unlike most, had managed to settle in without turning the place into a war zone. They were quiet, mostly. Not the awkward kind of quiet, but the observant kind. The kind that made Y/N wonder if they were secretly plotting to escape this university and hadn’t yet told her how.

She didn’t know much about them then- just glimpses. Jake had the habit of doing late-night runs down the corridor with music blasting in his headphones. Jay always walked like he had somewhere important to be, even if he was just carrying laundry. And Sunghoon, well… Sunghoon gave off the unnerving energy of someone who was either extremely kind or extremely dangerous, and no one had quite figured out which.

Y/N and Jake didn’t really meet at first. Not properly. They just… existed in each other’s periphery.

It started with ramen. Y/N had a ritual- 11:30 pm, kettle boiled, seasoning packets dumped in without reading, and a long sigh echoing in the kitchen like a ghost with finals. The dorm’s shared kitchenette was useless, claustrophobic, and smelt vaguely like burnt cheese, but it was all she had.

That was where she first saw him.

Jake didn’t say anything. Just stood by the fridge, half-asleep and barefoot, pouring chocolate milk into a chipped mug like it was whiskey. She glanced up from her noodles; he met her eyes for a second, then looked away.

No nod. No smile. Just shared exhaustion, briefly acknowledged.

After that, it happened more often. Hallway crossings, leaving the dorm at the same time- same shoes, different direction. One would always pretend to check their phone. The other would act like the floor had suddenly gotten really interesting. But neither of them turned back.

Once, she was walking down the corridor holding a stack of textbooks too tall for her arms. He was coming from the opposite side with a wet towel over his shoulder. Their eyes locked. For a second, Jake looked like he might say something. But then he didn’t. He just shifted to the side, brushing past her like she was smoke.

Y/N told herself it was nothing. Just dorm life. Just bad timing.

But still, whatever corner she turned, he was there- leaning against a wall, tying his shoelaces in the lobby, digging through the vending machine like it owed him money.

Then, the air-conditioning in the dorms stopped working. It was bound to happen eventually- the units had been blubbering like dying whales for weeks, dripping puddles of water and emitting an odd smell that lingered like guilt after a bad decision. But for them to break down exactly when the weather decided to become an inferno? That wasn’t just bad luck. That was spiritual punishment.

The dorm quickly descended into a version of hell Dante probably left out for being too pathetic.

People started dragging their mattresses into the hallway where it was marginally cooler. Fans were hoarded like black-market gold. The guy in 207 tried to build a swamp cooler out of a mop and an old table fan. It worked. Briefly. Until it didn’t. And then the smell got worse.

The warden and management were flooded with complaints, threats, and one very poetic hate email that ended with, “This is not an institution of learning. It is a slow death simulation.”

Y/N tried ice packs. They melted. She tried sleeping on the floor. It gave her a backache and a sudden understanding of her mother’s sciatica. And of course, that was when she started running into Jake more- always shirtless, always looking unbothered by the heat, as if his body had negotiated a secret deal with the sun. And she knew he noticed her too- always in her training bra, always in her shorts, always with her hair up and neck sweating, mouth apart from panting.

It was probably the sixth day of the heat-wave. Y/N felt like she was boiling alive inside her own skin. Her shirt clung to her back, her legs stuck to the sheets, and the tiny desk fan in the corner had just given up with a sad, final wheeze. The water bottle she’d frozen earlier had melted into a lukewarm puddle beside her pillow. She had tried everything- a cold shower, lying on the floor, holding ice cubes to her neck- and still, the heat sat on her chest like a curse.

It was 02:57 am when she finally gave up.

She pulled on the first shirt she could find- which might’ve been slightly damp from sweat, but everything was- and slipped into the hallway, craving movement, breeze, anything other than her room’s still, suffocating air.

The hallway light flickered.

As soon as she stepped out, she heard a soft click- another door opening just down the corridor.

Jake- shirtless, barefoot, hair a mess of curls sticking to his forehead. He held a can of something cold- maybe soda, maybe hope in liquid form- and looked just as defeated as she felt.

For a moment, they just stood there, both caught in the dumb surprise of seeing each other again like this- past midnight, wilted by heat, lit by that awful yellow dorm light. Their eyes met. And unlike the usual glances they shared- quick, embarrassed, almost performative- this one held.

Jake lifted his chin slightly. “You heading somewhere?”

Y/N didn’t trust her voice, so she just jerked her head vaguely toward the stairwell. “Roof,” she said. “Maybe it’s less hell up there.”

He gave a tired, crooked smile. “Mind if I tag along?”

She shrugged. “Sure”

They walked in silence. The stairwell was even warmer, but there was something about the quiet- the hum of bugs outside, the faint creak of the building- that made it bearable. When they finally pushed open the roof door, a wave of hot-but-moving air greeted them.

It wasn’t cool. But it wasn’t still. And that felt like enough.

They sat on opposite ends of the low concrete ledge, legs dangling, watching the silhouettes of nearby buildings flicker in and out of the haze. The city lights blurred at the edges, like everything was melting.

Jake reached into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out a popsicle- already halfway melted, the wrapper sticky and threatening to fall apart.

“Mango,” he said. “Don’t ask where I got it.”

He held it out halfway to her.

Y/N stared at it for a second, then leaned over, broke it in half with her fingers, and took her piece.

“Thanks.”

They sat in silence, eating sticky, sun-soft popsicle halves at 3 a.m. on the roof of a university that everyone hated.

After a long pause, Y/N said, “This place is a dumpster fire.”

Jake exhaled a laugh through his nose. “Yeah. But sometimes the fire’s kind of pretty.”

She looked at him sideways. He wasn’t smiling, not really, but his eyes had softened.

Y/N didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. The night felt suspended- like even the heat had paused, waiting for something to happen. They sat there until their popsicles were gone, until their sweat cooled into goosebumps, until the roof didn’t feel quite so unbearable. And when they finally stood up, heading back down the stairs without a word, something had shifted. They weren’t the awkward kids that bumped into each other in hallways anymore; they weren’t strangers who shared glances near the kitchen anymore.

“I need your help with this essay.”

Over the last month, as the heatwave dragged on like some biblical sentencing, Y/N and Jake had made a habit of barging into each other's rooms with whatever excuse they could make up. Sometimes it was batteries, or help with the half-dead Wi-Fi router. Other times, it was Jake showing up at her door with that half-grin, asking her to suffer through a regrettable movie because Jay and Sunghoon wouldn’t.

It had become an unspoken routine- something neither of them remembered initiating. It just… happened. Like the way dust collects on the windowsill, or how sweat clings to your back before noon. Natural. Unavoidable. Comfortable.

Now, standing at the doorway of Jake’s room was Y/N, clad in shorts and her usual training bra, waving her laptop like it was proof of a dying emergency. Jay and Sunghoon, shirtless, slouched on the floor with their phones and half a pack of chips between them, looked up with matching expressions of surprise. Not the “what are you doing here?” kind- more like the “we’ve seen this before but we’re still not used to it” kind.

Jake, catching their gazes and the sudden silence, didn’t even hesitate. He grabbed the first shirt in arm’s reach- one that had been lying crumpled on his bed for at least three days- and launched it at her face.

“Put on a shirt,” he grumbled, not meeting her eyes.

Y/N peeled the shirt off her face slowly, one eyebrow raised, and then looked down at herself like she was only now registering what she was wearing. “You’re the one with no AC. If I die from heatstroke, I’m haunting this room specifically.”

“You already live here anyway,” Jake muttered, trying and failing to suppress the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He put on the shirt that she had discarded and stood up from the floor.

“Essay, please! It’s urgent.”

Jake rolled his eyes but followed. No socks, no phone, no hesitation. Just him, trailing behind her like it was a habit carved into muscle memory.

Y/N’s room was already open when they got there. She didn’t wait. She just dropped onto the bed, cross-legged, her laptop opened before the fan like it might keep the overheating processor from catching fire.

Jake didn’t ask what the essay was about. He just sat beside her, back against the wall, shoulders barely touching, both pairs of eyes fixed on the open Word document on her laptop. She handed him the laptop, letting him take a few moments to scan the contents of her half-written, unplanned essay.

“This looks fine,” Jake raised a brow in confusion, handing her the laptop back. “What’s your doubt?”

She paused, hesitant. Then she glanced over her shoulder, hair falling in front of her face, hiding the sheepish curve of her smile. “I don’t know how to finish it,” she admitted, voice low, almost guilty.

Jake leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes with a sigh- the kind of dramatic groan he saved just for her. It was half-annoyance, half-performance, and all affection. “You, a literature major,” he said slowly, turning to face her with mocked disappointment, “are asking me, an engineering student, how to end a paper on Jane Eyre?”

“You know the best AI tools,” she shot back, defensive but grinning. “I just need help with how to use them.”

Jake gave her a look- that look- the signature one, all teasing arrogance with a hint of theatrical suffering, like helping her was both the bane and joy of his existence.

“And what do I get in return?” he asked, head tilted slightly, eyes glinting.

“Nothing,” she replied, without missing a beat, eyes not leaving his gaze, offering just as teasing a smile.

The first time Jake had said that line- what do I get in return?- she’d just asked him to grab her an egg from the communal fridge. He had said it with that same boyish grin and mock-serious tone, and Y/N, completely unprepared, had felt butterflies scramble in her stomach. She’d stammered, completely thrown off, her tongue fumbling against her words.

Jake had caught on instantly, and with wide eyes and flustered hands, rushed to explain that he hadn’t meant anything weird by it- that it was just a joke- harmless, playful. Ever since, whenever he threw that line at her, she’d shoot back with a dry “Nothing,” and he would always chuckle, always let it slide, like it was their little inside joke sealed in silence.

This time was no different. He just shook his head, a smile curling at the edges of his lips, and pulled the laptop onto his lap to open a fresh browser.

That night, during dinner, Y/N sat in Jake’s room, Sunghoon and Jay accompanying them like they do most nights. Jay cooked ramen for everyone to share, some protein and vegetables to bring out flavour. Silence, but the slurp of their ramen buzzed out the space of their room. A movie played on Jake’s laptop, some contemporary drama Jay had been dying to watch so they barged into his screening.

“Did y'all realize it’s the fourth decade,” Y/N said, mid-slurping her noodles, eyes fanning across the faces of the three boys that turned to look at her with bewilderment. “Who do you think the next victim will be?”

Jake and Jay passed each other a glance- a glance only the pair could decipher- and then looked at Sunghoon who was staring at Y/N. Sunghoon only gave her a shrug and finished the last of his ramen. “What, that willow tree-suicide thing?”

Y/N nodded.

Jake would never admit it, but he feared that the next victim of the university’s willow tree curse would be Sunghoon. He and Jay only followed Sunghoon to this godforsaken university for the safety of their friend- their friend who had been struggling with depression and suicidal tendencies since they were in middle school.

The three grew up together- the same neighbourhood, same school since kindergarten, same course interests and same love for each other as they grew up. But, in middle school, the dynamic between them shifted when Sunghoon was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder after a suicide attempt and suddenly, Jake and Jay were constantly in touch with Sunghoon’s parents to make sure he was safe and not a danger to himself.

When high school began, the two made sure, with all the power that they had, that Sunghoon wouldn’t succumb as a victim to their school’s increasing bullying issue. They were often put in positions where they had to trade their lunch to some of the bullies for Sunghoon’s safety or sleep with girls they didn’t want to, just to keep peace.

Then, it was time to apply for universities and Jake and Jay applied to every university Sunghoon had applied to, even if their ambitions were different. When Sunghoon first said he wanted to go to Remnant University, Jake and Jay shouted “same!”- like it was muscle memory, like they had been practising, rehearsing. But they didn’t really know much about the university.

Its website looked decent, offering all the courses they wanted and saying all the right things with words like world-renowned, engaging, innovative, expansive. The pictures that appeared with a quick Google search were hypnotising- a sprawling campus with expensive architecture students studying on patches of grass and canteens. It wasn’t until the day they had to move into campus that they realised they’d been baited.

As their time in the shitty university went on, the amount of rumours and legends they heard never stopped. There were rumours about the founder of the university and how he died a coke-addict and a student rapist. Then, there were the legends about the haunted computer lab and how the second computer to the left of the third row had never been used for two decades because the last time someone used it, they got hit by a bus and died in a tragedy. There was also a rumour about how the library was haunted and no one dared to stay in it past 2 am. Then, there was the legend they dreaded hearing about the most- the willow tree suicides and its ten year clock.

This was a conversation Jake and Jay had an ample amount of times after they heard the rumours. Words of concern and fright spilling out in hushed tones when Sunghoon wasn’t around to hear them- either sleeping or doing laundry. They hated thinking about it, to even visualise a world without their best friend- but their thoughts were often uninvited, like a nightmare they couldn’t sleep out of.

But was it truly a curse? Was it really something worth worrying about? It felt ridiculous, honestly- to lose sleep over an urban legend tied to a run-down university. The last so-called victim, according to the story, had died a decade ago. That meant ten batches had graduated since, and a hundred more rumors had spun into existence. No one even remembered the names of the last three. They were just stories, passed around during late-night conversations when there was nothing better to talk about- like ghost tales shared over a dying campfire.

The first victim, according to their university’s confessions account, was a girl whose name was marred with rumours and scandals of slutty behaviour and leaked sex-tapes. She had hung herself on the willow tree, her neck snapped in half with no note, no warning- just hanging there like an abrupt full-stop to a sentence. The media- or the newspaper articles, said that it was due to sexual exploitation and no one believing her. Others said that the story was bigger than that- bigger than them.

The second victim was an engineering student- much like Jake, Jay and Sunghoon themselves- who had failed his courses and had no money to pay for tuition. His scholarship was taken away from him, so he took his own life. He, too, left no note or no warning which left the public and his family in a spiral of bewilderment and confusion- no one really knew what the real story behind his death was.

The third victim was a boy in his final year of interior design. Unlike the others, there was no clear tragedy leading up to his death- no grades slipping through the cracks, no scandals or whispers of wrongdoing. In fact, most said he was the perfect student: brilliant, well-liked, always the first to show up and the last to leave. One morning, his body was found hanging beneath the willow tree, his shoes neatly placed beside him, as if he didn’t want to dirty the branches with a mess. No suicide note, no indication of struggle- just silence. Some said he was cursed with guilt, others said he saw something- something he couldn’t unsee.

In fact, they found him with his eyes open- dead and empty, horrifyingly still, like the life had been drained out from him mid-thought.

Three deaths. Three decades. Three stories, told and retold in hushed voices, embellished by fear and the passage of time. Would there even be a fourth death to add to the list of stories?

“That’s just a stupid rumour,” Jay dismissed Y/N quickly, cutting in before Jake could say anything- his loose tongue and panicked expression already halfway to betraying him. Stress had never been Jake’s strong suit, and Jay knew that better than anyone. Once, back in high school, Jake had tried talking Sunghoon down from a wave of sadness but fumbled his words so badly, it only confused Sunghoon more and triggered a full spiral. Jay had to step in, damage control already a familiar role by then.

“You don’t think it’s true?” Y/N asked, surprised.

“Nope,” confidently, Jay nodded, maintaining eye-contact like his life depended on it- like Sunghoon’s life depended on it.

Perhaps Sunghoon was too distracted, but Y/N felt the atmosphere shift around her. Her eyes darted between Jake and Jay, a question forming on the tip of her tongue, cautious and apprehensive yet curious and personal at the same time.

Jake, sensing her peaked senses, dragged her away with the empty pot of ramen and bowls in one hand and her forearm in his other. He led her into the kitchenette, two floors below their room, in the name of dish-washing duty while she struggled against his impossible grip.

“What was that?” When Jake finally let go of her and moved to wash the dishes, pretending like nothing out of the ordinary had happened, Y/N leaned against the counter with her arms crossed, staring at him like he owed her an explanation.

Jake tutted, tilting his head and staring at the remnants of ramen in the dirtied dishes, soapy water filling the basin. With his sleeves rolled up, he submerged his hands into the sink to start cleaning. “It’s just… it’s a sensitive topic for us.”

Jake refused to look at her, as though looking at her would make the conversation real, serious, heavy. He could still feel her gaze on him, now softened and apprehensive.

“Oh,” she sighed, letting her arms dangle to her sides. “Am I allowed to ask questions or do we move on?”

“It’s just,” Jake wasn’t sure what he could say- he wasn’t sure if he was even allowed to talk about it. This worry and fear for his friend was something he lived with for over seven years now, buried between blankets of secrecy between him and Jay. And now, for him to say the words out loud to Y/N almost felt wrong, illegal- like openly telling people who he voted for in presidential elections. “Sunghoon…”

“Oh,” Y/N nodded, chewing on her lips as the pieces clicked into place. It didn’t take a genius to understand why the topic was sensitive… she just kind of understood.

Sunghoon. Of course. The quiet, aloof, lost kid who looked like he carried the burden of the world most of the time- alright.

There was a moment of silence between them- just the hum of the old fridge, the soft slosh of water against porcelain, and the faint creaking of pipes somewhere in the walls. It wasn’t awkward, not quite. Just delicate.

Y/N straightened up, nudging his elbow gently with hers, her voice lighter this time. “You missed a spot,” she said, pointing at a stubborn noodle stuck to the bowl he was scrubbing.

Jake huffed out a breath, almost a laugh. “You’re annoying.”

“And you’re a terrible dishwasher,” she grabbed a sponge and joined him at the sink, her presence a quiet reassurance that she wouldn’t press further.

For a moment, they just stood there, shoulder to shoulder, warm water pooling over their hands and silence settling like a truce. Their hands sloshed against each other, consciously pinching and swatting, a grin cracking against both of their lips.

Y/N had a stash of mango flavoured candy that Jake had become addicted to when she first shared some with him. She didn’t know if it was a brand or if it had a name- she told him that she’s simply grown up eating it and her parents would buy it in bulk everytime it ran out. It was sweet and sour, a mix of tangy spice settling in as the aftertaste and Jake was absolutely smitten by its flavour. Seeing how obsessive he had gotten over them, she told him that she’d ask her parents to buy extra for him but for now, he had to suffice with the single piece she’d give him everyday.

However, it meant waiting for Y/N to come back to the dorm, which she usually did really late after standing around the college canteen with her friends, gossiping or complaining about their university. By the time she’d come back, he’d get impatient and complain. There were times he even wandered back into campus in search of her and her room key and her friends would find that weird about him.

“How are you that obsessed with this candy? We’ve all had it. It’s not that great.”

“You’ve got no taste.”

So, annoyed, Y/N gave him her spare key, along with her trust in him that he wouldn’t use it for anything other than taking her mango candy. No snooping through her things, no stealing her expensive packets of ramen and no playing pranks. Jake agreed, comically desperate.

His classes had ended early and he returned to the dorm, an overheated oven as the heatwave refused to subside even after two months. They were in a dry spell- it hadn’t rained since their airconditioners had broken down and the whole town was in a water crisis. This meant that the dorm only got a limited supply of water. If someone woke up too late, all the water would be used up and they’d have to suffice with walking around sweaty and sticky, wafting with the scent of heat.

Absentmindedly, like it was in his second nature, Jake walked towards Y/N’s room instead of his own, his bag slung over his shoulder and her key already ready in his hand. When he unlocked her door, however, he wasn’t expecting to find her still in her room, sitting on her floor still in her underwear. Her back rested against her bed, hair strewn across the mattress and clinging to her neck. When she saw him, she didn’t panic in her half-naked state. She had a pillow on her lap, hiding the parts of her she was most embarrassed of, scanning her laptop screen perched on the pillow.

“Didn’t you have class?” He asked.

Jake blinked, his brain buffering, but he didn’t say anything about her state. He didn’t need to. That was the unspoken rule now: you don’t acknowledge it. Not when everyone in the dorm had seen each other wilt under the summer heat like dying houseplants. Modesty had long surrendered to survival. Shirts were optional. Doors were left ajar for cross-breezes. Even the warden had started walking around shirtless, like he'd finally accepted the heat as god.

“Class got cancelled,” she said, leaning her head against her mattress like she was fighting for her life. The evenings were the worst when it came to the heat. She squinted her eyes close, feeling sweat dribble down her already wet neck and she reached to adjust her tangled hair on the mattress.

Chewing on the candy, Jake sauntered to sit on her bed, right behind her. “Let me,” he said, crossing his legs and gathering her hair in his fist. She leaned forward to give him more space, allowing him a brief glance at her glistening back. Silently, he started raking through the strands of her hair with his fingers, eyes slyly glancing at the Reddit tab open on her laptop.

“Why are you reading that?” He asked, referring to the r/remnantuniversity tab she had open. It was about the willow tree suicides, a whole discussion on theories and rumours and urban legends that surrounded it. He wondered if those contributing to these online forums belonged to his class- it could be the quiet kid that sat in the back like he was harbouring a familial secret or the overly enthusiastic girl who acted like she knew everything.

“It’s for an essay,” she said. “For my literature and sociology class- something about Verstehen.”

“And that’s the topic you chose,” his voice was calm, unwavering. He wasn’t bothered or angry, only a little scared and wary, like she was trending unexplored and dangerous waters. His hands moved to section her hair into three, attempting to braid it.

“Yeah, I just- I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It’s kind of perfect for our topic,” she sighed. “There’s an entire subreddit, everyone’s shit scared about it- look!” She pointed at her screen and Jake squinted, leaning forward to read what she was referring to.

Then she scrolled through the subreddit and there were huge paragraphs of what he assumed were explanations or speculations, newspaper clippings of what seemed to be reports of the suicides which he couldn’t decide if they were real or AI, and a video of a new channel reporting on an unexplained suicide by hanging in an unnamed university.

While Jake looked through everything she was showing him, his hands slowly braiding her hair, she chewed her lip in caution. “They’re saying all the suicides took place on April twentieth.”

“That’s barely a month away,” Jake said.

“Yeah.”

“Y/N, there’s really no way any of this is real,” Jake sounded like he was convincing himself more than her. “You know the internet, it’ll go lengths to make their lives interesting. All those creepypastas that were debunked- I’m sure this is one of those.”

“That’s exactly what many people are saying,” she nodded. “The sane ones, at least.” Y/N reached behind her to feel her hair that he had partly braided. He wasn’t struggling, just taking his time, working with care and warmth. “Hey, you didn’t mess it up,” she pointed out, teasing him.

“You’re annoying,” he rolled his eyes, continuing to braid her hair.

“Where’d you learn to braid hair?”

“My mom, I think,” Jake hummed. “My brother and I used to love braiding her hair.”

“You have a brother?”

“Yeah, he’s in Australia now,” Jake’s eyes sparkled at the thought of his family, his smile mirrored on the glassy screen of her laptop. She watched him through the reflection, arms crossed on her chest, lips spreading a smile herself. “He’s married with kids and everything.”

Y/N, turned around to pass him the rubberband on her wrist, expression of awe. “You’re an uncle? That’s adorable.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes, shuffling to lay down on her bed, his arms crossed under his head. He turned to look at her, watching her as she went back to her research.

Almost unapologetically, his eyes trailed down her exposed neck, admiring the braid he did for her, before locking onto her arms and her chest. This wasn’t the first time Jake looked at her like this, confused whether it was lust or just the fact that he was a boy staring at a half-naked girl in front of him- if it was passion or second-nature to him as a man. When he thought about it, he’d almost feel disgusted, to ever wonder what was under that pillow on her lap, what more could be discovered under those black panties she thought she successfully covered. Then there were her legs and her hands, slender and welcoming, like they were waiting for him to slide into.

Jake cleared his throat and pulled out his phone, attempting to distract himself. The heat didn’t help him and he knew if he took his shirt off now, his brain would run into overdrive.

“Jay and Sunghoon want to go bowling,” he said upon reading his missed messages. “Do you want to go?”

She didn’t say anything- just hummed like she was considering it, but was already reaching for a shirt. He knew that hum. It meant yes.

And a few hours later, they were standing under flickering neon lights in a bowling alley that smelled like bad nachos and better memories. Jay and Jake ended up destroying them- like, embarrassingly. Jake wasn’t even trying that hard. He bowled like it was something his ancestors trained him for. Sunghoon was busy trash-talking instead of actually aiming, and Y/N kept getting distracted by her opponents’ coordination- and the way Jake’s muscles flexed, the way his smile overpowered the room and the way his hair matted to his sweaty forehead made him look like something out of a magazine. But Y/N wouldn’t admit this, not to anyone, not to herself.

“Don’t laugh,” she said when the ball slid into the gutter with a tragic thud. “It curved. I saw a curve.”

“Yeah, it curved straight into failure,” Jay said, bumping Jake’s shoulder like they were on the same team in a war. They high-fived like idiots.

Later, they went out to eat at this cramped little diner Jay liked, the one with flickering menus and sticky tabletops that smelled like ketchup and some kind of old, overused oil. It was half nostalgia, half heartburn. Thank god both the bowling alley and this diner had air conditioning, because they swore they would’ve melted if they had to sit through one more minute of sticky air and heavy clothes clinging to their backs. Jake kept dramatically fanning himself with the laminated menu, Jay had unbuttoned his shirt two notches down, and Sunghoon was debating sticking his head in the freezer behind the counter.

Y/N, like clockwork, ordered ice cream mochi- the same kind she always got when they went out. It didn’t matter what mood she was in or what place they were at. If mochi was on the menu, she was getting it. She pulled apart the sticky rice covering with her fingers like it was a ritual, the cold mist clinging to her fingertips. She popped one half into her mouth and let out a small hum, eyes fluttering shut for a second.

Jake watched her without meaning to, elbow propped on the table, chin in hand.

“You’re really acting like this is gourmet cuisine,” Sunghoon said, deadpan, as he unwrapped a sad-looking cheeseburger.

“It is,” Y/N replied, all wide eyes and pure belief. “This is the good kind. The outside’s chewy and the ice cream doesn’t taste fake. Jay, taste this.”

Jay held up both hands in refusal. “I’m not about to get emotionally attached to frozen rice balls, thanks.”

Jake didn’t say anything, but when she wasn’t looking, he stole the other half from her plate and popped it into his mouth. Cold exploded on his tongue, sweet vanilla cream wrapped in the soft, elastic chew of mochi.

She caught him mid-chew. “You’re so mean,” she said, flicking a wet napkin at him.

He just grinned, cheeks full. “You’ll live.”

Then the conversation drifted, as it always did, to the three boys groaning about their engineering classes- Jay going off about a professor who mumbled formulas like they were lullabies, Sunghoon lamenting the four-hour lab that ruined his Thursdays, and Jake trying to convince them all that thermodynamics was a scam invented to humble mankind. Y/N didn’t say much, just listened, her eyes darting between each of them as they spoke, like she was watching some low-budget sitcom unfold right in front of her. She forked through her pasta lazily, twirling it around her utensil with quiet interest, smiling to herself at the way they all spoke over each other- complaining, defending, occasionally throwing fries across the table like punctuation.

Jake had a habit of overpowering his thoughts with his loud voice, like volume could somehow make his point more valid. There was always a grin on his face, dimples peeking through as he defended his case with the same stubborn energy he applied to everything else. He’d shake his head when he got frustrated, flinging his hair out of his eyes in that dramatic, boyish way that made him look like he belonged in some coming-of-age film. Jay, naturally, would shout back- voice rising almost on instinct- calling Jake delusional or dumb or both, words laced with exasperation and fondness. Their arguments were always the same mix of chaos and choreography, like they’d done this a hundred times and had the rhythm memorised.

Sunghoon would just sit back with his drink in hand, lips curled into a crooked smile, chuckling as he watched them bicker like an old married couple. He’d throw in dry commentary about how they could channel all this passion into actually studying, but that only made him a target. The teasing would shift seamlessly to Sunghoon, Jake and Jay now joining forces to poke fun at his notes or his caffeine addiction or the way he took forever to reply to messages. Sunghoon would roll his eyes, flipping them off, but his voice would get just as loud, defending himself with the same fire he mocked them for. And through it all, Y/N just watched, resting her chin in her palm, half-amused and half-softened by the sheer comfort of it all- how familiar and stupid and warm it was.

Then, like clockwork, their voices would taper off- first Jay slumping back in his seat with a huff, then Jake sighing dramatically like he’d just won a war, and Sunghoon smirking into his drink as if he’d been above it all from the start. They always found their way back to quiet eventually, their chaos softening into something slower and easier. One of them- usually Jake- would nudge Y/N with an elbow or flick a piece of napkin her way, and ask, “What about you, nerd? How’s your academic crisis going?”

Y/N perked up slightly, spearing a piece of her pasta and chewing it slowly, as if deciding where to start. “I have to write a new essay for my literature and sociology class,” she said between bites, shrugging. “I thought I’d write about our university and all those legends and rumours. There’s a lot on Reddit.”

Jay blinked. “Why?” he asked, already picturing the tab on her browser- r/remnantuniversity, a whole rabbit hole of conspiracies and dark theories, deep dives into campus lore. The willow tree suicides being one of the most talked-about topics on there, wrapped in layers of myth and fear. Jay remembered seeing the posts himself once- some of the comments read like ghost stories, others like diary entries from students who claimed to have seen strange things, heard whispers, felt watched. He found it oddly fascinating in the way only things that unsettled you at 3 am could be.

Y/N nodded, holding up her phone to show them a post she’d saved. “It’s perfect for what we’re studying. There’s so much there- collective fear, urban myth, ritualised grief. And people are still so scared of that place. Look at this: Reddit says the library isn’t actually haunted, it’s just psychosomatic, like mass suggestion. One of the seniors said they slept there overnight and nothing happened. But then someone else said their roommate went missing for four hours and turned up outside the willow tree. Like, how does that even happen?”

Sunghoon’s fork froze halfway to his mouth. “Why would you want to write about something like that? Aren’t y’alls essays meant to be filled with research paper citations and shit? You can’t cite Reddit.”

“I have my ways,” she rolled her eyes. “Besides, it’s interesting. I’ve always found conspiracies fascinating- that’s all I watch on Youtube.”

“You’re one of those girls,” Jay commented, letting a chuckle past his lips as he brought more food to his mouth.

“Screw you.”

Jake shook his head slowly, voice low and steady. “Now you want to test it out?”

Y/N didn’t say anything at first, only reached for another mochi, her fingers brushing against the cold plastic. “Just for a bit. Past 2 am, that’s when the weird stuff is supposed to happen. But I won’t go alone,” she added quickly. “I mean, unless none of you want to come.”

“You’re actually dumb,” Jay muttered, leaning in. “Like, stupid in the head.”

“She’s possessed,” Sunghoon mumbled, rubbing his temple. “This is how horror movies start. Girl writes a paper, disappears in the library, we all get haunted. No thank you.”

But Jake didn’t say anything right away. He just stared at her across the table, lips pressed together, something flickering in his gaze that wasn’t quite fear, but wasn’t exactly comfort either. Because even if he thought she was being reckless or ridiculous or completely out of her mind, he already knew it in his gut- he was going to follow her anyway.

“If I die in that library, I’m haunting you first.”

Y/N and Jake arrived at the doors of their university library at midnight, a bag of snacks and their study materials tucked under their arms, gripped not just with fear, but with the strange thrill of doing something they weren’t supposed to. The campus was quiet in the kind of eerie way that made your ears ring from the silence- no motorbikes revving in the parking lot, no late-night couples giggling behind the hostel blocks, not even the occasional scream of someone who'd just finished an assignment. The whole place felt still, like it was holding its breath just for them.

It had taken Y/N two whole days to fully convince him- two full days of persistent poking, half-hearted bribery, the promise of free candy, and a dramatic monologue about academic integrity and sociological curiosity that made Jake pretend to gag. Still, he showed up.

She had texted him “you don’t have to come, it’s okay” more than once, but he always replied with some version of “shut up, I’m already on my way.”

The library loomed ahead, grand and cold under the fluorescent lamps. The old sandstone walls cast long shadows, and the columns looked more imposing at night, like they belonged to something older than the university itself. Jake glanced sideways at Y/N as they stepped closer, her face lit by her phone screen as she reread one of the Reddit threads, eyes wide, smile crooked.

“You’re still reading those?” he asked, amused but tired.

“Just refreshing my memory,” she whispered. “Someone said if you walk in after midnight and ask the librarian’s ghost to help you find a book, you’ll see a girl in a red scarf standing in the philosophy section. But if you follow her, you disappear.”

Jake rolled his eyes, trying to hide his growing fear. “And you still chose this over writing a boring essay about Durkheim.”

“It is about Durkheim,” she grinned, holding the door open for him. “Just the cursed, Reddit version.”

They entered with hesitant steps, the automatic doors hissing behind them. The air inside was cold and clinical, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead. The security guard was either asleep or didn’t care- they had a green light to wander. The library looked the same as it did during the day: rows and rows of tall shelves, the study desks with their tiny lamps, the far-off corners cast in deeper shadows. It wasn’t as hot inside, enveloped by cool wiring of a half-broken cooler.

Jake exhaled slowly and reached for a Kit-Kat from their snack bag, unwrapping it as loudly as possible just to break the silence. “You know,” he said, “if a ghost shows up and asks me about APA or MLA, I’m out,” he joked, trying to lighten his nerves.

Y/N snorted, nudging his arm as she pulled out her notebook. “Shut up and help me figure out if I’m insane or if sociology is.”

“Both,” Jake said, mouth full of chocolate. “Definitely both.”

They picked a long wooden table near the back, one with uneven legs and names scratched into its surface- past students immortalised in ballpoint pen and frustration. It was the kind of spot no one really liked during the day, too far from the outlets and close enough to the vent that it got way too cold, but tonight it felt perfect. Quiet. Tucked away.

Y/N opened her laptop and got to work, fingers tapping against the keys with the rhythm of focus, eyes scanning Reddit threads, cross-referencing journal articles, her screen glowing dim blue in the otherwise sterile yellow light of the library. Jake pulled out his textbook with the face of a man who had already accepted his own fate and flipped it open to the chapter on thermal systems. He highlighted in pink and underlined in green, switching colours like it meant something, mumbling equations under his breath that didn’t make sense to either of them.

Every ten minutes or so, Jake would glance at his phone and say something like “One hour and ten minutes till we die,” in a mock-dramatic tone that made Y/N flick a pencil at him. Sometimes, he’d whisper the most absurd lines from his textbook like it was poetry- “Entropy is a measure of disorder,” he whispered once, “just like your essay outline.” When she didn’t react, he’d nudge her ankle with his. “Laugh,” he’d whisper, “or I’ll actually start crying.” She snorted and kept typing.

Every ten minutes, they’d count down the time. Jake would glance at his phone, tap the screen, and announce the minute like they were waiting for New Year’s. “1:20,” he’d say. Then, “1:30.” Then, “1:40,” a little more hesitant each time.

By 1:50, the jokes slowed down. The air felt… weird. Not cold, exactly, but too still. Like the quiet had layered itself on their shoulders. Jake was no longer reading- he just stared at the same page, eyes unfocused. Y/N’s fingers hovered above her keyboard. The laptop’s fan hummed a little louder.

At 1:59, they looked at each other. Nothing dramatic. Just a glance.

And then, 2:00 a.m.

The moment it hit, the lights didn’t flicker. The shelves didn’t creak. No whispers crawled through the air. Nothing dramatic happened- not even a gust of wind from a cracked window or the soft echo of footsteps from an unseen hallway.

The library remained stubbornly ordinary. Books stayed tucked in their places, monitors blinked patiently, and the only sound was the quiet hum of the air conditioning and their ragged breathing. Y/N stared at the time on her laptop- 2:00 am sharp- and then looked up, almost disappointed.

Jake leaned back in his chair, stretching with a yawn. “I was kind of hoping a book would go flying off a shelf,” he muttered. “Or like… the ghost of some stressed-out PhD student would show up and slap me for not citing properly.”

Y/N snorted, pressing her fingers to her temples like she was trying to read the silence. “I’m so disappointed,” Y/N murmured, smiling a little. “Should we stay longer?”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “God, no. I came for the haunting, not an all-nighter.”

Still, neither of them packed up. Not yet.

They waited until 3 am, just to be sure. Just to say they’d really done it. That they’d stayed past the hour of whispers and shadows and all those ridiculous Reddit warnings. They didn’t speak much, just packed up their things in a hurry- it felt like they were kids again, afraid of the dark and needing to run to the kitchen for water in the middle of the night to escape whatever monsters were under the bed. The air still held that heavy stillness, like the library didn’t want them to go. But they left anyway, pushing the tall doors open with a little too much caution, stepping into the cooler, quieter night like survivors of something no one else had witnessed.

Their walk back to the dorms was quieter, too. Not tense. Just… quieter. Their hands brushed more than once, knuckles bumping awkwardly in the half-lit path, and for a while, neither of them moved away. Eventually, Jake gave in. His arm came up slowly and draped around her shoulders like it was something he’d been meaning to do all night. She didn’t say anything, almost relieved- just leaned a little into him, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You know there’s gonna be a shooting star tomorrow?” He said, voice low, almost sleepy. “Well, a meteor shower. Something like that.”

She hummed, looking up at the hazy sky.

“Everyone’s gonna be up on the dorm roof to watch it,” he added. “Jay and Hoon are bringing snacks and everything. You should come.”

She smiled without looking at him. “Are you inviting me, or telling me?”

Jake grinned, tightening his arm around her shoulders just slightly. “Both.”

The next night, Y/N climbed the rusting fire stairs to the dorm’s roof, drawn by the distant hum of music and the smell of sweet soda gone sharp with alcohol. The entire rooftop was full- blankets sprawled across the concrete, bodies tangled into lazy heaps, everyone dressed in their pyjamas like it was some kind of unspoken theme. Their university might’ve been falling apart at the edges, but somehow, they always knew how to make the best of it. Laughter echoed into the night, soft and unbothered, like the rooftop was a world of its own. People were singing, laughing, hugging and swaying with the music, glasses of alcohol lifted into the air. Somewhere, she saw the domestic Carl the Iguana perched politely on someone's shoulder.

She didn’t know who handed her the cup of spiked fruit punch- one moment her hands were empty, the next, something cold and red was slipping into her fingers. It tasted too sweet, a little too strong, and sticky like childhood. She moved through the crowd, eyes scanning for anyone familiar.

That’s when she saw them- Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon, walking over with the same crooked grins and half-lidded eyes. The night had painted everyone softer.

Jay raised his drink in greeting. “Congrats on surviving the haunted library,” he said, bowing slightly. “A scholar and a ghostbuster.”

Sunghoon snorted into his cup. “So… can we conclude all the legends are untrue?”

Y/N shrugged, the corners of her lips tugging up. “Probably,” she said, but she didn’t sound entirely convinced.

“Told you so,” Jake grinned and nudged her shoulder with his.

The heatwave had finally started to let up. The air was breathable again, and the rooftop was cool in that perfect way that made them forget how miserable the days had been. The sky above stretched wide and navy, dotted with slow-moving clouds and the faintest glow of city light bleeding into the edges. The first streak of silver split across the sky like a knife, sharp and sudden and dazzling. A soft gasp rolled through the rooftop, voices falling quiet as everyone tilted their heads upward, caught in the spell of it. More followed- long, brilliant trails of light cutting across the darkness, each one different. Some quick and flickering, others steady, glowing like they were made to be seen. The stars looked close enough to reach, like if you stood on your toes, they’d fall into your palms like warm coins. It was the kind of sky that made you feel small in the right way, like you were part of something old and beautiful.

Jake stood behind her, arms curled easily around her waist, the curve of his body slotting into hers like they were puzzle pieces. His breath was slow, brushing against her temple in warm waves, and when he rested his chin lightly on the top of her head, it was without hesitation. His glasses had slid halfway down his nose but he didn’t care- he was smiling too wide to notice, one of those real smiles that crinkled his eyes and pushed his cheeks up high. There was something boyish in the way he watched the sky, like all of this reminded him of something he’d once dreamed about.

Y/N leaned back into him, soft and quiet, her body folding easily into his. Her pulse, which always seemed to buzz around him, slowed into something steadier. Their hands weren’t even touching, but the closeness was warm and whole. She could feel the steady thump of his heart through his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing against her spine. It wasn’t new, the comfort, but it felt like something had settled.

Eventually, the sky quieted again, and the spell broke- softly, like waking from a dream you weren’t ready to let go of. The crowd shifted, people stretching their arms above their heads or collapsing into conversations, their voices warming back into the air. Someone from her literature class- Priya, maybe?- tugged Y/N into a half-circle of people sitting cross-legged on the rooftop floor, laughing over something mildly stupid. She smiled, nodded, and added a comment when she needed to. Her fingers were still a little sticky from the punch, and her cheeks felt flushed, but not from the drink.

Still, every few seconds, her eyes would stray- like clockwork, like gravity. Across the rooftop, past the swaying silhouettes of friends in old pajamas, through the mess of curls and blankets and blinking fairy lights tangled along the railing- until they found him.

Jake.

Leaning back against the concrete wall, hair a little messy, arms crossed. His glasses were back in place now, pushed up lazily with the back of his hand. He wasn’t smiling this time- not in that big, goofy way- but there was something soft in his face, his gaze heavy and quiet and locked onto her.

He didn’t look away. And neither did she.

It wasn’t dramatic or loud, no fireworks, no slow motion movie moment. Just a series of glances. The kind that made your stomach curl. The kind that felt like your whole chest had been pulled a little tighter. The kind that made you feel seen.

Her heart fluttered against her ribs like wings, like something light and dangerous had taken flight. And when he tilted his head at her, just slightly- like he was asking, “you good?”- she smiled. Not a big one. Not one meant for the crowd. Just a small, secret thing. And he smiled back.

The night came to a gentle, sleepy end. Laughter started thinning out as people yawned and stretched, peeling away in twos and threes, voices fading down stairwells. The rooftop cleared like a tide going out, and soon only the distant sound of someone’s playlist humming from a dorm window remained.

Y/N padded back to her room, still barefoot from the rooftop, pulse soft from the stars. Her door creaked open and the quiet inside was immediate, a contrast to the noise they’d just left. Behind her, Jake followed- not invited, not uninvited either. He leaned against the frame of her doorway, arms crossed over his chest, one shoulder raised slightly like he wasn’t sure if he was staying or just passing through. But he didn’t move.

He watched her tie her hair into a bun, the movement familiar and unbothered, like he wasn’t even there. She pulled her shirt over her head with a lazy yawn, tossing it to the chair by her desk, and moved to sit cross-legged on her bed. The room was dim, a pool of moonlight stretched across the floor, and she looked up at him like he’d been standing there forever.

She grinned. “Candy?”

Jake huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head as he stepped further in, finally letting the door close behind him with a soft click. He crossed the room, slow and deliberate, and stopped in front of her.

“Why do you seem so tense?” he asked, voice low, like a secret passed through a crack in the wall. His fingers twitched like they wanted to reach for her but didn’t.

Y/N tilted her head. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

She shrugged but didn’t argue. There was something in the way she looked at him then- barefaced and tired and warm- that made his chest pull in strange, careful ways. Like he wasn’t sure what line they were walking, only that he didn’t want to step off it.

She shifted, patting the space beside her. “Then sit. Maybe I’ll feel better.”

He sat down, his hands brushing her shoulders before he started to knead the knots there- careful, light, like he was asking permission. “You gotta let loose a little,” he breathed, eyes lingering on her exposed skin, words hanging between the space between his lips and her ear.

Y/N knew where this was headed- she wasn’t stupid. It was all the eye-contact in the hallways, the brushing on their hands, the way he hugged her, the way he looked at her, the way he spoke to her like she was the most important thing in the world. And somewhere along the way, she fell into the little game he started, grinning back with tease, letting her hand snake around his arm when sitting together and watching movies, leaning into his touches.

Softly, she tilted her head towards him, eyes lowered and focused on her navy bed sheets. “You know, you don’t need to use cheesy lines, right?” She murmured, still not meeting his lines.

Jake’s hands stilled for a second on her shoulders, thumbs pressing gently into the dip of her back before sliding down, slow and tentative, like he was testing gravity. His voice followed after a pause, low and uneven. “Oh, yeah?”

That made her look at him.

And he was already staring- like he always was. Like he couldn’t help it. His gaze swept over her face, soft and deliberate, until it landed on her lips and stayed there just a little too long. He’d been patient, perhaps too patient, all this while, waiting to touch her the way he was now, fingers ghosting against the clasp of her bra, lips just about to touch the curve of her neck.

There was a flicker in her chest- sharp and golden, like something about to ignite. She bit her lip, pulse stammering, and Jake exhaled like he felt it too.

“You’re not gonna kiss me, are you?” she whispered, teasing.

He leaned in, the tiniest bit, until their foreheads almost touched. His breath was warm, sweet from the leftover punch. His hands were still on her waist now, grounding them both. “Not unless you want me to.”

The silence between them was louder than music, thicker than the night. She could feel his heart pounding through the space between them, or maybe it was hers. They were close enough now to share breath, to blur edges.

“I can tell how bad you want it too,” he said, and it wasn’t cocky- just honest. The way she pressed her thighs together, fisted the bedsheet, chest heaving silently at the thought of whatever he was about to do next.

And at that moment, she wanted to close the distance. Wanted to crash into him with all the force of those stolen glances, those unfinished sentences, that first night in the library when his hand brushed hers and neither of them moved away.

But instead, she smiled- slow and lazy, like the heat of the night had melted her bones. “Then, what are you waiting for?”

And that was it. That was all the sign he needed.

Jake moved without hesitation, like he'd been holding his breath for weeks and finally got the chance to exhale. His lips crashed into hers, not rough, but urgent- hungry in the way someone is when they’ve wanted something for too long. One of his hands slipped into her hair, the other stayed anchored at her waist, pulling her in like she was gravity and he was done fighting it.

Y/N responded just as fiercely, threading her fingers through his hair and tugging him closer, chasing the warmth of his mouth, his neck, every inch of him that had lived in the corners of her thoughts. She barely remembered shifting onto his lap- just the way his hands found her hips like they’d been there before in some dream, the way he murmured her name against her skin like it was something sacred.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t messy. It was everything that had built up between them- every brush of a hand, every late-night stare, every almost-kiss, every heartbeat that stuttered when they were alone. He touched her like he was memorizing, like he was afraid she’d disappear. She kissed him like she’d been waiting for the world to stop just long enough to feel this.

They kept their voices low, stifling laughs and gasps against each other’s skin, the thin dorm walls reminding them that the world was still asleep just beyond the door. The sheets twisted under them, breaths hot and tangled, every touch deliberate- like they had all the time in the world but couldn’t bear to waste a second. It wasn’t rushed or clumsy, it was careful and full of heat, the kind of night that felt inevitable. Like the universe had been pushing them toward this moment all along, and they had finally stopped resisting. And when it was over, when their skin was slick with warmth and the room was quiet again, it didn’t feel strange or wrong. It felt like destiny.

Jake and Y/N fell into dating the way you fall asleep on a train ride home- slowly at first, then all at once, like it was the most natural thing in the world. They weren’t flashy. They didn’t need grand declarations or picture-perfect Instagram posts. What they had was quieter, deeper, built out of real things: shared glances, inside jokes, sleepy conversations at midnight when the rest of the world was still.

Most of their dates were just the two of them- Jake was big on “quality time,” as he liked to say. He’d take her to cozy little restaurants tucked away in corners of the city, the kind with dim lights and too-good desserts. They’d sit in booths for hours, sometimes just talking, sometimes just existing in the same space- knee brushing knee, his thumb tracing patterns into her palm beneath the table.

Bookstores became a frequent spot, too. Jake had a soft spot for poetry (though he’d never admit it to Jay or Sunghoon), and Y/N loved the feel of worn-out covers and marginalia. They’d walk through the aisles shoulder to shoulder, flipping pages and pointing out titles to each other. She’d lean into him as they read the backs of paperbacks, his hand resting on the small of her back like it belonged there.

Arcades were chaotic in comparison. Jake was competitive and loud, and Y/N loved the way his eyes lit up when he won. She’d laugh so hard when he lost at air hockey that she’d nearly fall over, and he’d spend far too many tokens trying to win her that one lopsided bunny plushie she swore was “ugly cute.” She still kept it on her bed.

And then there were the days they weren’t alone.

Jay and Sunghoon had a sixth sense for crashing dates. They’d text “wyd” ten minutes after Jake and Y/N sat down somewhere, and somehow always appear wherever they were, drinks in hand, ready to clown.

One night, they all ended up at a rooftop café with fairy lights strung across the beams. Jake had his hand on Y/N’s thigh, their legs tangled under the table, and Jay groaned so loud the waiter turned to look.

“Do you two have to be so disgustingly in love all the time?” he asked, sipping his drink with way too much judgment. “I came here to eat, not to watch The Notebook: Live Edition.”

Y/N just grinned and stole a fry from his plate. “You’re just jealous.”

Sunghoon leaned back, arms crossed. “Y’all make me wanna throw myself off the side of this building.”

“You love it,” Jake shot back, completely unfazed.

“Unfortunately,” Sunghoon muttered, but they all laughed.

Still, despite the teasing, the group hung out constantly. Movie nights on the common room floor, late-night walks to the convenience store in pajamas, sharing playlists and trading clothes and collapsing into each other like family.

Jake never stopped being soft around Y/N. Whether they were alone or not, he always found her hand, always kissed the top of her head, always listened like she was the only voice in a crowded room.

One night, as they sat on a park bench eating ice cream- because Y/N insisted night walks deserved dessert- Jake turned to her with a look of adoration. He had a lot he wanted to say, all sappy words of love and affection and things she loved calling “cheesy filmy lines.” But he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“What is it?” Y/N coaxed, eyes wide with curiosity, tongue poking out to lick her popsicle. A chilly breeze went past them and they welcomed it, pushing out the heat wave successfully.

“It’s the twentieth in a few days,” Jake reminded her.

“Oh, yeah,” she nodded. “Don’t wanna risk not believing it?”

“Yeah,” Jake admitted. “It all feels so stupid.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” she looped her arm with his, moving closer to lean her head on his shoulder. They sat that way in silence, eating ice cream and watching the leaves of trees rustle with the wind. Cicadas grew louder and their chests rose and fell in the sync. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Just a few more weeks ‘till summer break.”

April 20th fell on a Saturday.

Jake didn’t say anything when he saw the date on his phone that morning- just stared at it for a beat longer than usual. The sun was already warming the floorboards under his desk, and somewhere in the building, someone was blasting a bad remix of a pop song that had been stuck in his head for three days. But even with the normalcy, the date sat heavy in his chest. He knew Jay slept in Sunghoon’s room that night, just in case, just to protect him or make sure he didn’t go off wandering into the campus.

But the rest of the day was still left.

He sent one message to the group chat- movie night in my room. 7pm. mandatory. no excuses.

Jay replied in all caps complaining about how he had plans (he didn’t), and Y/N sent back a heart. Sunghoon left it on read, as usual.

By 7:03, they were all squished into Jake’s too-small dorm room, the air already thick with the smell of popcorn and the low hum of some indie movie playing in the background. The lights were low, a throw blanket covered every surface that could physically hold a human, and the window was cracked open just enough to let the cool evening air slip in. A quiet playlist hummed beneath the noise of Y/N complaining that Jake had no good snacks (he did, she just liked to say that) and Jay dramatically tried to balance six cans of soda in his hoodie pocket.

Y/N had kicked her shoes off the second she walked in and claimed Jake’s bed like it belonged to her. She was now half-buried under one of his sweatshirts, legs tucked underneath her, hair messy and smiling softly as she scrolled through his playlist. Jake was on the floor by her feet, back against the bed frame, watching her like she was the only thing worth looking at.

Sunghoon, oblivious as ever, plopped beside her with a bag of chips and a hoodie that clearly wasn’t his (Jake’s, of course), already halfway through the first movie of the night. Jay sprawled across the carpet like a Victorian fainting woman, holding a worn-out deck of cards in the air.

“Okay, I’m gonna need full participation,” Jay announced dramatically, flicking cards across the floor like a magician. “If I’m giving up my imaginary date night, we are playing.”

“We never said we wanted to,” Y/N grinned, but reached down to grab her hand of cards anyway.

“You never want to,” Jay deadpanned. “And yet, I’m here. Suffering. With all of you.”

Jake snorted, leaning back against the wall beside the bed, one foot propped on the edge of his desk chair. “You’re so dramatic. You love us.”

“No,” Jay said flatly. “I love cards. You’re all collateral.”

The night went on like that- easy and dumb and warm. They played two rounds of Uno before Sunghoon started cheating just to piss off Jay. Y/N made Jake pause the movie at least three times to change the playlist. Someone spilled soda on the rug. No one got up to clean it.

Then they played Speed, then Jay’s own twisted version of Poker that had way too many rules and made Sunghoon suspiciously good at bluffing. At some point, they forgot the movie was even playing in the background. Laughter bubbled out of the room like it was overflowing. And it was enough. Not a grand gesture, not a revelation. Just the four of them, tangled up in a night full of stupid games and old music, and the simple magic of still being here. Y/N fell sideways against Jake, clutching her stomach at something stupid Jay said. Jake leaned into her without thinking, resting his chin lightly against her arm, grounding himself in the closeness.

But beneath the noise, beneath the ridiculous banter and snorting laughter and snacks spilled on the rug, there was a quiet kind of watching. Jake’s eyes flickered to Sunghoon every so often- not too much, not enough to notice, but enough to make sure he was still here. Still with them. Still laughing. The way his head tilted back when Jay said something dumb. The way he wiped chip crumbs on Jake’s hoodie sleeve like it was his birthright. The way he didn’t seem to know that today mattered at all.

They didn’t talk about it. Didn’t even hint at it. There was no heavy moment, no obvious pause in the night. Just warmth. Just presence. Just staying.

As the night dragged on, Jay announced he was going to physically die if he didn’t get water, and Jake followed him out to the vending machine. When he came back, he had two bottles, one he handed to Y/N wordlessly.

She blinked, reaching out and taking it. Her fingers brushed his. “You okay?”

Jake sat beside her again, this time close enough for his thigh to press against hers. “It’s past midnight.”

Y/N looked at the clock on his desk. 12:17.

Behind them, Jay was yelling about reverse carding his own reverse card, and Sunghoon was fake-snoring on the bed.

That night, out of pure fear and dissatisfaction, Jake had pretended to fall asleep hugging Sunghoon, forcing him to fall asleep too. Jake hugged onto him so tight, he was sure he wouldn't be able to breath for the rest of the night. Y/N covered the pair in a blanket before leaving the room with Jay. They shared a glance, a small understanding and gratitude before parting ways to go to their respective rooms.

The airport buzzed with that familiar kind of chaos- luggage wheels scraping the floor, boarding announcements echoing overhead, and the constant shuffle of people going places. But in the middle of all that noise stood the four of them, frozen in their own little bubble of time.

Finals had wrecked them. Jake looked like he hadn’t slept in three days before this morning. Jay had nearly cried over his last theory paper. Sunghoon dramatically claimed he forgot how to read halfway through exam week. Y/N's fingers were sore from typing essays and projects until 3 a.m. every night, fueled by vending machine coffee and bad lo-fi playlists. But they made it.

Somehow, they made it.

Now they stood in front of the departure gate, suitcases stacked on trolleys, backpacks slung over tired shoulders, the weight of an entire semester pressing softly on their backs.

“Well,” Jay said, clearing his throat like he didn’t want to admit he was getting emotional. “Don’t die.”

“Wow. Inspirational,” Y/N snorted.

Jake laughed, slinging an arm around her and pressing a kiss to her temple like it was the most natural thing in the world. “He means: we’ll miss you. Come back in one piece.”

Sunghoon was leaning dramatically against his suitcase. “Same floor, same rooms next semester, right? I can’t have anyone else stealing my shampoo. It’s personal at this point.”

Y/N reached over to smack his arm. “I only borrowed it twice.”

“Twice a week,” he muttered, but his smile was soft.

“I’ll bring my mom’s kimchi when I come back,” Jake announced, remembering an old bet between Sunghoon and him. “You know, to prove that it’s better than the dorm’s kimchi.”

“That’s a low bar, Jake,” Jay deadpanned. “A literal shoelace would taste better than dorm food.”

There was hugging after that- tight ones, lingering a little too long. Someone may or may not have cried a little (Jay denied it firmly), and for a second it felt like a weird coming-of-age movie ending, the kind that faded out into a bittersweet pop song.

Jay and Sunghoon wandered off after that, joking about who’d forget the group chat first (Sunghoon swore it would be him, and no one argued). Jake pulled Y/N aside for one last moment before their flights were called.

Y/N looked up at him, taking in the soft mess of his hair, the crinkle at the corner of his eyes from too many sleepless nights, and the way his lips parted like he was trying to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. Her throat burned, feeling her eyes water.

“Hey,” Jake, noticing her lips quivering downwards, stepped closer to her, a hand on her shoulder and head leaning closer to her face. “It’s just the summer,” he tried.

“But I won’t see you every day. Or at breakfast. Or brushing your teeth with your eyes half open.”

Jake laughed, that small, breathy kind. “You’ll miss me brushing my teeth?”

“I’ll miss all of you,” she whispered.

Jake reached out, gently tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. His touch was warm, grounding. “Y/N,” he murmured, like her name was something sacred. “I know I joke a lot, but I really mean it. I’ll come visit. I want to see your town, meet your friends, and walk the streets you grew up on. And I need that goddamn mango candy.”

Laughing, Y/N but back a sniffle. “You’re not just saying that?”

“I don’t lie about such things.”

She smiled, watery and small. “Then I’ll visit yours too. I want to see where you had your first kiss.”

“That was awful,” he laughed. “But sure, I’ll take you to that playground.”

And then he leaned in.

Not rushed, not like he was trying to prove anything. It was soft, slow, and sure- the kind of kiss that tasted like every unsaid word, like laughter under moonlight and movies shared at 1 am, like late-night card games and secret glances across the room. It was the kind of kiss that said I’ll miss you and I’ll wait for you and I’m so damn glad I met you.

Around them, the airport moved on. People passed, announcements echoed, planes took off. But for a second, they didn’t move. The world didn’t exist. There was only the warmth of his hand and the feel of her lips and the way their hearts beat just a little too loud.

When they pulled apart, her forehead rested against his.

“Go before I cry,” she whispered.

“You cry, I cry,” he muttered, trying to smile, but his voice cracked just a little. “Group breakdown in the airport.”

She laughed, even as she blinked hard. “I’ll text you when I land.”

“You better.”

And then, she turned and walked toward the gate. He stood there until she disappeared past the security check. Only then did he finally exhale, breathing words of love she couldn’t hear. Behind, Jay and Sunghoon were hollering for him to their gate, paying they needed to board “before the plane fucking leaves.”

And then there were final waves from Y/N, airport glass doors sliding shut, security checks and goodbyes swallowed by distance. But something about it didn’t feel sad.

Because they knew they’d be back.

Same floor. Same rooms. Same people. Just a little more grown.

[nanamiskentos]

I LOVE YOU, I'M SORRY — gojo satoru

prologue. → gojo was always charming, maddening and impossibly brilliant. a gift and a curse to the world. the love of your life, the loss of your life, the one that got away. you can only sit alone with his cold, lifeless form and wonder where it all went wrong. how do you mourn a star that burned itself out for the sake of the sky?

pairing. gojo satoru x on/off ex!reader

warnings+. heavy angst, flashbacks of a whirlwind and not so healthy relationship, description of death and injuries and what comes after the heart stops beating, suggestive content but nothing explicit. u could interpret this as unreliable narrator who didn't quite see gojo properly, or that gojo just wasn't a good partner to keep things interesting?

word count. 1.9k song inspiration. i love you, i'm sorry — gracie abrams

a/n. this was actually meant to be sweet but suddenly reader became an ex. and well...it snowballed 😁 peep the ttpd reference in the prologue

mp3. a habit to kick, the age-old curse. i tend to laugh whenever i'm sad, i stare at the crash, it actually works. making amends, this shit never ends. i'm wrong again.

there was no funeral for gojo.

and right now, the room smells of heavy antiseptics and medicated disinfectant. sterile white walls seem to echo every tick, tick of the clock, every scrape of shoko's surgical tools against the metal tray. but there is little that cuts deeper than the silence.

gojo's body lies in four neat pieces on the long table, stitched in places that cannot possibly hold him together, laid out like a broken constellation. shoko has allowed you to stay here, perhaps some form of pity?

you just sit in the corner of the lab, knees pulled to your chest and trembling with the effort it takes to keep breathing.

gojo satoru was always meant to burn out, wasn't he? he had been a lit match, vibrant and untouchable, like a streak of blue wildfire that seared much too hot, too fast.

satoru had been bruised fingertips on your rocking hips, he had been clashing teeth and tugged cherry-bitten lips, sweet caramel dissolving on your tongue.

he had been screaming matches in the rain, slams of an apartment door, a vicious and cruel tongue when provoked.

what he wasn't meant to be was a multitude of patchwork pieces, coated in patches of day-old rusty blood and shards of bone.

you just didn't think that someone like him belonged in this fragile, porcelain world. gojo had laughed too loud for it, fought too hard, loved too recklessly. its bitter to think of now — a cosmic power in a body of flesh and blood.

how could someone like him have ever lived to see his twilight years?

but you still always thought that he would. you thought of his arrogance, the small curl of his lips as he crowed on with a shadow in his jewel-tone eyes, "don't worry, i'm the strongest, remember?"

and so, you thought you had time. time to heal wounds that you had both inflicted on each other. time to try again.

but now there was no time. no gojo. just you, left to pick up the pieces of sukuna's little mercy.

shoko works quietly, and her hands are steady, a mask pulled over her face as tools gleam under the harsh light. she's running stitches through flesh that was once warm under your skin. you watch as she runs rolls of small bandages over his bisected waist, bandages imbued with special spells for gojo's posthumous...plan.

"i can't promise anything, you know. even if i put him back together, it will never be him. just okkotsu." the shadows around shoko's pretty eyes are ever deeper, violet and blue bruising the tired ache that paints her face.

what an awful and cruel plan. the ache in your heart is too great to even consider the trial that the young yuta is yet to face, to have to step into another's body. what a perversion of the world. but your mind lingers on the harsh reality that gojo must have known that there was no other ending to this story.

and you wonder briefly about whether he had finally reached the peace that he had sought. whether that those last moments, lying in the snow like a butchered and wounded animal had been painless. had the world gone quiet in his ears as snow fell around him? had he been glad of the end?

you don't respond to shoko. what could you say? there's nothing to fix. gojo is gone, and no amount of polypropylene sutures or reverse cursed technique could sew him back into the man who had leaned against the doorframe of your room last week, grinning with his haori thrown around his shoulders.

"you just take things too seriously," he had teased, mirth tickling his voice, poking around for a provocation, "i didn't even mean it like that. let's go get something to eat downstairs." "fuck you, satoru!" you had been furious with him at the time, he had drawn your ire with some pointless tussle and barbed comment. you had been launching a comb at him which only just deflected away from his infinity, when he had laughed. "all right, let me know when you feel better, pretty," and he had tugged his haori back over his broad frame, "we can do other things too, if you like. y'know, if you're still feeling hot-headed." "get out, you dog!" "love you too." and the great gojo satoru, a fuckin' grown man, has just giggled. and winked audaciously, as he practically sauntered away.

now his ridiculous smile is a ghost, and you wonder if you’ll ever stop seeing it when you close your eyes.

you've risen from your chair slowly, every joint stiff as if the grief has taken root in your bones, curling poison ivy around your limbs that make you want to tear your nails into your own skin.

the surgical table feels close, too far, too unbearable. but you reach out still, as your fingers tremble, and you let them hover over whatever is left of him. it's his right arm, only loosely held together by rough stitches.

touching him now is like plunging your hand into a winter river. it's cold, unyielding and so profoundly wrong. the skin beneath your fingers has lost all the elasticity of life, no longer soft of warm, but stiff in an alien way. there's a bitter clinging in the back of your throat when you wonder how shoko does this everyday. it's like touching the husk of something that was once sacred to you, and you trace the faint lines of veins, now a ghostly blue beneath waxen skin. the arm is heavy, dead weight against the table.

and there's the smell, faint but inescapable. the metallic tang of blood, now dried to a dark, rusted maroon. it lingers in the air, and you close your eyes to stop yourself from losing the contents of your stomach.

It’s like touching the husk of something once sacred, a relic robbed of its divine warmth.

your hand trembles as you pull away, the cold clinging to your palm like a memory you can’t shake. you want to scrub it off, to erase the feeling, but it’s already etched into your skin, into your mind. the absence of warmth feels like a punishment, a reminder of what you’ve lost and what you can never have back.

"i should've —" the words choke in your throat, sharp and jagged. you swallow them, but they’re stuck, just like the tears that refuse to fall. "i should've done more."

shoko glances up, her gaze as piercing as the scalpels she wields. "you did everything you could. so did satoru."

your eyes blur as they fix on his lifeless form, but now you're no longer seeing cold flesh on the table. no, you're somewhere else, far softer and far sweeter. somewhere before the world had turned to ash in your hands.

you're seventeen again, standing outside your favourite bakery after school, laughing so hard your ribs hurt. because gojo had just tried to bribe the shop owner for an extra box of mochi with a lopsided grin and misguided charm. the elderly woman behind the till had told him to get lost, before muttering something about the youths of the day were rude geezers.

gojo had always been like that, over the top and dramatic, dragging you into his whirlwind without asking, but you hadn't minded. not then.

every day he had brought home something, a sugar-dusted pastry, a delicate cake, a flimsy excuse to see you smile as he'd thrust the treat into your hands like he had conquered the world, and didn't he say that there was nothing in the world as sweet as your kisses?

you drank him in like honey, not realising how it would one day sour on your tongue.

and you still remember the day that gojo came home, buzzing with energy, his usual swagger somehow dialed up to an eleven. he could barely sit still as you watched him pace your shared apartment, his words tumbling out in excited burst. you had laughed and asked what on earth was going on with your sweet boyfriend, but had only grinned before reaching into his pocket and kneeling on the worn, wooden floor.

the ring had been small and simple, a thin silver band with a single shining gem — but knowing the spending habits of the head of the gojo clan, it must have been illustrious in its price. wide-eyed and earnest, for once, he had been stripped of all his bravado.

"i'm going to marry you," he had said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. as if you weren't already his, body and soul. heart and hands.

god, you had wanted this more than anything. you had said yes, a squealing and gushing yes! gojo had slipped the ring on your finger with hands that shook just a little, and the two of you had...rechristened almost every surface in the apartment that night.

but then, it was over. slowly at first, like the creeping edge of frost, until one day it felt like you were standing in the middle of a blizzard.

the kisses turned sharp, fleeting, like a blade grazing your skin. loving hands became cold and distant on one another, pulling away as if the other’s touch burned. you started slamming doors in anger, avoiding him in the quiet spaces of your home. and when you couldn’t avoid him, your words became weapons, dripping with venom and spite. he gave as good as he got — every snarky comment from your lips was met with one from his. pride clashed with pride, and neither of you would bend, not even for love.

the breaking point came after that mission. the one where everything had gone wrong. a cursed spirit of impossible strength. you’d taken a blow meant for him — too fast, too reckless — and nearly didn’t come back from it. you remember the blood, the way it soaked into the earth beneath you as gojo shouted your name over and over again, a sound you thought might split the sky.

you’d lived, somehow, but the cracks in your foundation were too wide to ignore. that night, you’d stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at the ring on your finger, and finally let yourself bawl. when you’d slipped it off, it felt like your heart had gone with it.

what gojo didn’t know — what he never found out, would never find out now — was that you hadn’t discarded it. you couldn’t. even in the worst of it, when the fights left you shattered and raw, you couldn’t let it go. the tiny band of silver stayed tucked in your pocket, a quiet weight against your heart, a reminder of what could’ve been.

now, as you sit here, staring at what’s left of him, that weight feels unbearable. you reach into your pocket, your fingers brushing against the cool metal, and pull it out. the gem glints faintly in the fluorescent light, as if mocking you.

i still loved you, you think, the words echoing hollowly in your chest. i’m sorry.

but it’s too late now. too late for apologies, too late for second chances, too late for anything but this — grief that swallows you whole, a storm with no end in sight.

the ring slips from your trembling hand, clinking softly as it falls to the floor.

[caspertheloudassghost]

I was sleeping and right before my alarm went off I dreamt of a scene where some hotshot demonic cultivator sends a message to Cang Qiong asking to spar and speak with the sects “resident expert on demonic cultivation” with the implication that it’s a peak lord and the peak lord meeting has them asking who tf that could be and tossing around various ideas while YQY and SQQ avoid each others gazes

(Unnamed shidi 1-adopted but raised with demonic ancestry; SQH-trades in demonic realm and has a secret demon lover he sneaks into the sect [HOW DO YOU ALL KNOW THAT?!]; LQG-expert on fighting demonic anything; MQF-regularly treats demonic afflictions and as such is the most researched on how it works)

In the dream I was so sure SQQ would reveal himself/declare he’d be the one to deal with it but awake I’m convinced he’d keep silent, so everyone has to go and meet the DC cuz they aren’t letting anyone go alone who knows what he plans to do

Anywho post dream territory but the day comes and SQQ is half convinced he’s about to be thrown out of the sect

DC: I’m looking for WYZ’s successor, Xiao Jiu

Everyone slowly turns to look at SQQ cuz by now everyone’s heard the sect leader call him that (insert theory that the Shen in his name was picked up soon after WYZ was killed. Like, on the way to meet the previous peak lords kinda soon and possibly stolen from one of the dead disciples)

SQQ steps forward with everyone’s gazes on him, seething (how dare he use that name) and keyed up from the last month of spiraling, deciding to out with a bang: successor! What fucking successor? To be such would imply the bastard taught me anything and even worse to suggest that I continued using it

DC: then how’d you know all his newly developed techniques? Like, you’ve definitely been seen using them when he trained you

SQQ: he didn’t train me in shit I was his lab rat he used to see if something would kill him before trying himself

Anywho, I have a lot of points that I wanna fit into this but idk where they’d go

Righteous cultivation is the growing of internal energy usually by advancing yourself in some way (physically, spiritually, mentally) and at points letting environmental energy pass around you, whereas Demonic cultivation is from siphoning of energy external to yourself, much faster but much more draining to your environment and others. Usually incompatible with human cultivation bases due to a lack of central, inborn demonic core causing most demonic cultivators to end up going insane from the patchwork of energies with no central focus.

Because of this any who stay somewhat sane gain a lot of power and recognition

WYZ theorized that if you were to steal a demonic core and consume it, you could solve the issue of energy focus. He used SJ to test this theory and found that it created a pseudo demon. The more SJ cultivated demonically, the more demonic features he presented.

SQQ has mysteriously never once gone to Qian Cao Peak. Not during his discipleship and definitely not during his tenure as peak lord. MQF hasn’t realized this cuz SQQ keeps sneaking in and fudging the papers.

His Shizun believed SJ was part demon and brought him into the sect as part test and part curiosity. They may or may not have also mildly experimented on him, but at least they helped him avoid qian cao

Eventually his Shizun came to the conclusion that he’s the only one on the peak with common sense and any strategic ability, so he became head disciple

SQQ is aware that his qi deviations are mostly due to having a demonic foundation and spending years trying to feed it with traditional cultivation. Not sure if this means he has a really tiny golden core or a really poorly fed demonic one or both at once like a half demon. I’m leaning towards both cuz of QJ Shizun experimentation

SQQ has retractable claws (he keeps them retracted and hidden under thick gloves), sharp teeth he must file down (they fall out after a year and the next set grow back sharper, during this time he almost always has his face covered by a fan), a deep-set craving for meat (and QJ serves only vegetarian food), and his ears have a slight point and rest slightly higher on his head than with human faces (he’s pretty sure they keep moving slightly higher each year to become like fox ears, like the fox core he consumed. He hates how it still affects him even without active demonic cultivation. He hides the ears with elaborate hairstyles and mourns his old body)

The other peak lords see his fan as him hiding his intentions from them and not showing his face as hiding dishonesty. The gloves are a testament to his refusal to touch what’s below him. His insistence on eating meat based foods at PL meetings emphasize his delicate constitution. His increasingly elaborate hairstyles display his arrogance for all to see. Listen they already think he’s a spoiled young lord the increased distance caused by his weird cultivation doesn’t help

SQQ wins the spar with the demonic cultivator with ease even when using only demonic cultivation techniques 15 years out of practice.

PLs are surprised to see the other DC fights exactly like SJ did when he first entered the sect (ruthless no holds barred street fighting. Daggers and concealed weapons of any kind other than spiritual swords. Plucking leaves flying flowers is used and now clearly seen as a demonic technique. SQQs fan blades are sharpened. Dust is thrown in eyes and joints are snapped and male parts are targeted.) They can easily see where SQQ must have learned it if that’s how all demonic cultivators fought (like demons). Even if they despise the lack of honor in this fight, at least it’s mutual

At some point during the fight SQQs more demonic traits are revealed (his hair coming undone to reveal his ears, sharp teeth on display, claws having long since torn through his gloves

Most demonic cultivators are self taught through trial and error and rarely have the privilege of learning to fight from masters. Additionally, due to their tendency to go insane, it’s common for most interactions between DCs to turn deadly at any point, so experienced DCs have no room for error or leniency. Fights are determined when one is trapped and begging for their life, and the other decides whether to spare them.

DC was not expecting the QJ PL to be this good, WYZs disciple or no

SQQ states that he was not WYZs disciple and reminds DC that he was the one who killed WYZ

DC asks why and SQQ explains that the three reasons he stayed with WYZ were a)blackmail, b)fear for his life, and c)to find his brothers remains and put him to rest. Imagine his surprise when he finds his brother doing perfectly well in a cultivation sect and WYZ about to kill him. Suddenly points b and c are irrelevant and point a is only removed upon WYZs death so it wasn’t a hard choice

The two walk to a nearby pavilion to discuss techniques and trade stories, with equal parts sarcasm, insults, and laughter

DCs are usually quite willing to trade less personal techniques outside of battle due to the “self taught” aspect of their cultivation

Somehow they end up talking about how brothels are safe spaces for DCs as they are great sources of information and less likely to call the Xianxia cops than inns

PLs are in the background shocked the two could go from a death match to the friendliest conversation they’ve ever seen SQQ display. YQY is salty and guilty in equal parts. LQG somehow comes to the conclusion that all of his and SQQs early interactions were actually SQQ trying to be friendly. SHQ sees this revelation play out in real time and points out that the murder attempt was a misunderstanding. QQQ is begrudgingly impressed to see prissy SQQ so willing to get down and dirty. MQF has been quietly having a crisis at the quality of his work to never realize this and comes to the realization that he’s never personally examined SQQ

MQF comes over and insists on checking over SQQ, who basically goes “fuck it. Sure” and all of my initial bullet points come to light

Everyone loses their shit finding out that SQQ is apparently famous among the DC community due to being the mad lad ex slave who not only convinced WYZ to take on a disciple, but also the one to kill that bastard.

End conclusion SQQ gains a DC friend and the other PLs agree to that as enrichment and stress relief for SQQ.

[brandileigh2003]

Older wolfstar fic recs: (older in age that is)

let me know what I missed and self recs are welcome (also as always check tags for each one to protect yourself)

~~~please give these authors love, fandom engagement with writers is down and it means more than you know. ~~~

**And I know older is relative term bc most of these wolfstar are in their 30s I do believe. But. They have more life experience than in Hogwarts or uni so I counted it.

--orange juice (i've been ready for you to come home for so long) by raggedypond: @fortunatelyfuzzywombat divorced parents of teddy with one bed at his graduation

-Honey If I'm Not by @brigid-faye divergent post war where remus left, jily lived, and wolfstar only reconnects years later by chance. (Also has a Sirius pov)

---used my best colours for your portrait by @littleoldrachel lie low at Lupin's with flashbacks exploring remus' life

-Looking for Moony by Writer_INFJ_2w1: meet and fall in love birthday party

-Flight of Destiny by @lucigoo lesbian wolfstar meet on plane (Luci also has several others where they're older and lots of beautiful fics

--Aging Gracelessly by orphan_account: texting fic

--the mayors of simpleton by fruity_individual divorced wolfstar get back together, raising teddy

-Second Generation by MsAlexWP single parents, getting back together. The sequel is so perfect too! It's a Nice Day for a Wolfstar Wedding

-the sea is a good place to think of the future by peachyybabe (second in series is mcd but this one is open ending)

-Of Memories and Milk Thievery by moonymoment raising teddy, get back together

--Birthday Blues by YouBlitheringIdiot @blitheringmcgonagall :Sirius is turning sixty and he is appalled...

--Give Quarter to Old Men - @krethes series

--dear your holiness by mollymarymarie

--The Postwar Chronicles by @sliebman10 post canon series

-Vigil Strange I Kept by whitmans_kiss explores effects of lycanthropy

--ten reasons (to go to michigan) by @greyeyedmonster-18 remus headed home, trying to move on from divorce

--Prettiest Star Verse by Raging_queer

-I didn’t sign up for this by Moonystoastandmarsbar divorced wolfstar

-Of Protein Powders and PTAs by @squintclover and @tracingpatternswrites rivals to lovers

-An Infinte Ocean by orphan_account raising teddy strangers to lovers

--The Road Not Taken by @mollymarymarie

-extra credit by MsAlexWP rivals to lovers

-Baby On Board by aqua_myosotis

-Of Memories, Bitter and Sweet by MsAlexWP memory loss

**luci's recs

-my love, take care of yourself by littleoldrachel

-How to romance a guy with (terrible) poetry by BayleyWinchester

-Teddy Plays Matchmaker by grow_as_we_go

-The Front Step Surprise by R33sesPieces

**Recs from others** (I haven't read all these yet but wanted to include)

--Just what the doctor ordered by WrappedUp (be aware there is age gap)

--The Lab by de_sire again an age gap

-Till We Have Arrived Home Again by prouvairing divergent post canon raising harry

-The Patchwork of Us by TracingPatterns

-The Things I Did by Lolo_row

-The Phoenix Agency by LupinsChocolatePraline

-The Fall by EuripidesTrousers

-Pages of You by wolfpants this is drarry main but apparently background wolfstar is really good

-Just Like Heaven by the_prettiest_w0lf_star: mechanic Sirius and librarian Remus

-soloorganaas

-impishtubist

---new additions--

•too busy being yours by peachyybabe ft deaf remus and fluff

***Self rec***

--Memories of You: mcd exploring memory loss

--Through the Years: Sirius thinks about the past and how handsome his husband is while holding their granddaughter.

--DN(R): Lie low at Lupin's era where they discuss decisions Remus made in the lost years.

•Silver fox fluffy 1 shot

**also- the wolfstar librarian is always a great resource make sure to give some likes on posts: 30yo and Up part 2 Bring Black Back Back from the Veil Lie Low at Lupin’s Post Azkaban Grimmauld Place

--Feel free to check my other rec lists, as well as the rest of my fics

--also ... This is list of canon divergent fic recs: post-azkaban, bring back black, lie low at lupins. Lots of same fics but I might not have all in both places.

[goodlucktai]

a bigger heart grew back

rise of the tmnt post-movie characters: leo & splinter, raph & splinter word count: 5k title borrowed from no hell by cloud cult

read on ao3

x

Splinter thought he had lived through all of life’s worsts already.

Losing his mother, estranging himself from what was left of his family, moving to the States as an orphan of his own making, falling in what he thought was love and losing his freedom as a direct result—

Years spent underground where he was forced to fight like a dog, an unwanted mutation that guaranteed his exile from society, that first bleak night in the sewers with nothing but the clothes on his back and four infants who depended upon him entirely and the utter conviction that he was going to fail them—

The resurrection of the Shredder, the collapse of Splinter’s home and the exodus of his children, the fear he had become unfortunately intimate with in those fraught hours—that his boys would become orphans, too—

Raphael’s escape pod opening and Leonardo tumbling out, eyes glassy and chest heaving with panic—sweet, sensitive Red covered in a fleshy pink parasite and forced to attack the siblings he loved more than life itself, those little turtles he had fussed over and carried and kept safe since he was just a little turtle himself—

But nothing compared to hearing the voice of his second youngest child as he prepared to end his own life.  

His precious Blue, who could sell water to a fish, bravely trying to convince his siblings that it was right for him to go. Already pulling away, beginning the vanishing act, even as Raphael begged him not to do it. 

All for that tiresome, nebulous greater good. As if any happy ending could possibly exist with Leonardo removed from the narrative. 

Splinter had thought he knew what pain was, but his heart, patchwork, secondhand thing that it was, had never broken like this before. He crumpled to the ground, and listened to Blue’s line on the comms explode into a strange whine and then static and then nothing, and it was over. 

His Blue would never crawl into his armchair for late night Spanish telenovelas again, Splinter realized. Would never wheedle and bribe and coerce him into chess matches, because he didn’t seem to know he could just ask and Splinter would play as many matches with him as there was time in a day for. Would never run from a successfully antagonized sibling and fill the lair with his ringing, infectious laughter. Would never fall asleep at the kitchen table over a medical textbook he pretended to be too cool for in the daylight hours. Would never effortlessly argue his twin out of the lab for dinner, would never lift Orange up on his shoulders to get a hard-to-reach mixing bowl because teamwork makes the dream work, would never painstakingly stitch together a ripped teddy bear for the brother whose fingers were too big to handle needle and thread ever, ever again. 

There is not a word for a parent who has lost a child. There is not a word for that particular flavor of grief that carves you empty at the same time that it fills you to the last hopeless, drowning inch. 

April sobbed openly beside him, her small, strong shoulders shaking. She had always been exactly what Splinter would have wished for in a daughter, and so the Hamato curse didn’t spare her, either. It takes and it takes and it takes. 

And then Michelangelo turned his back on despair and handed his family a miracle. 

Splinter could feel his remaining sons’ ninpo stir and then surge together, and the sheer forceful brilliance of it staggered him from all the way over on the other side of the city. He knew better than to hope—but he also knew that nothing existed in this world or the next that could possibly outstubborn his children, or strong-arm them into abandoning each other, or quite frankly make them do any single thing they adamantly as a group did not want to do. 

“Guys,” April choked out. “Talk to me, what’s going on? Hello?”

Thudding footfalls announced Casey approaching at a run. He jumped over one of the pinned Krang’s flailing tentacles as if he dodged ballistic alien parts every day of his life and skidded to the ground beside them on armored knees.

“I felt it,” Blue’s child from another life gasped, face tacky with half-dried tears. “That’s Uncle Angie opening a door. No one else could do it but him.”

Casey had a familiar katana at his side, blue and gleaming. His fingers seemed like they wanted to linger on the hilt but he handed it over to Splinter agreeably enough. The lingering ninpo in the blade usually welcomed Splinter warmly, eager to be of use, a telling mirror of the way Leonardo himself was so anxious to please and be praised. But this time the tool that Splinter picked up was an innate, lifeless thing. 

He prodded tentatively with his own qi. The runes flickered once, half-hearted, in the manner of a dog waking at the sound of a key in the door, ascertaining the person there was not the one it belonged to, and laying its head back down to sleep. 

Splinter would not be able to follow the whims of his son’s ninpo to create a portal while it lay dormant. His own uselessness crushed him. 

“Raph mentioned Staten Island earlier,” April said, wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm and pushing herself to her feet, business-like and brisk because she couldn’t afford to be anything else. “I doubt the ferry’s running, and the bridge is going to be a gridlock nightmare, so it looks like we’re stealing a boat.”

“If your mother asks, I did not condone this,” Splinter said hoarsely. “That said, the marina is too far to run to, so first we are stealing a car.”

They were halfway across the river in a cruiser that probably wasn’t meant to sustain the sixty miles an hour April was pushing when that startling shout of their family’s ninpo finally started to fade into a soft-spoken susurrus. 

Before it was too quiet to make out clearly, he felt it: that achingly familiar mischievous blue energy, like a playful breeze flying above everything. Much smaller than usual, less spirited—giving more of the impression of a tiny tide pool creature hiding inside its shell than a smartmouthed sixteen year old boy with the whole world in his corner—but present. 

Alive. 

“Sensei,” Casey whispered. 

“They got him,” April said, a ferocious, not-to-be-trifled-with look in her eye, all but daring the universe to try to make her a liar. “They saved him somehow, I know it.”

They were both Hamato enough to feel it as certainly as Splinter did.

But the boys hadn’t thought to include anyone else in their immediate, hard-won victory—and in fact, the call Splinter, April and Casey finally received some ten minutes later was one of outright panic. 

“Dad, dad, are you there?” Orange’s voice warbled. He sounded all of fifteen years old and frightened in a way that set Splinter’s fur on edge instantly. “Dad, Leo’s hurt bad. He was awake a second ago, and talking even, but then he stopped making sense and just—just fell—”

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Purple added, high-strung and liable to start biting if one more thing went catastrophically wrong within a mile of his person. “I’m scanning him but I don’t—I’m not a doctor I don’t know—”

“Send the readouts to me,” Casey said quickly, pulling his mask down, its lenses glowing green as the interface came to life. “Sensei trained me in field medicine, I can help with anything short of an open-heart surgery.”

“You take after your father,” Donatello replied. “Irredeemable overachievers.”

That faint thread of gratitude in his voice would go unheard by anyone who didn’t know him, but Casey huffed a near-silent exhale, having heard it loud and clear.

What Future Boy had to share with them wasn’t great, but it wasn’t the worst it could have been, either. Leonardo had sustained a number of broken bones and soft tissue damage, the cartilage in his right knee was torn as if the joint had been viciously twisted, one of his cheekbones was fractured, and even his shell had suffered a few hairline cracks. Altogether, he was looking at a long recovery, not unlike what the survivor of a traumatic car accident might have had to look forward to—but he would recover. 

It wasn’t enough to prepare Splinter for actually seeing him. His Baby Blue, a tiny little thing in Raphael’s arms, with a face so beaten it was hard to make out the bright red stripe on one side. 

“Okay,” April said, voice thick with anger and hurt and love. “Okay. Everyone on the boat.”

And finally they were home, after the longest day in history. Casey confirmed his initial diagnosis, with the caveat that they would know more when Leonardo woke up. He insisted to an audience of grim faces that it was a very good sign Leonardo had been awake and coherent in the first place, however briefly. 

So Blue was disinfected and splinted and bandaged and medicated and then tucked safely away in the infirmary bed. Everyone else was seen to in short order. It was an easier task than it usually was, since none of them were remotely willing to leave just yet. 

Splinter made a mental note to call Draxum to double-check that Michelangelo hadn’t pushed himself too far in creating a gateway—the glowing lines on his hands had faded, and beyond an occasional tremor, he promised his family up and down that he was actually fine. Donatello’s shell was a quiet source of concern, but the only person alive who could harass him into a checkup without getting maimed for his trouble was currently very much out of action. Raphael’s eye was definitely infected, and blood vessels had burst when he’d ripped the parasite away, coloring the sclera an alarming red. 

The rest of the clan watched in some unspoken, exhausted wonder as Casey unthinkingly maneuvered around Leonardo’s infirmary as if he’d spent part of every day of his life there, knowing which drawer to find compression gloves for Orange in, locating topical pain reliever for Purple that he could apply himself and medicated eyedrops for Red in quick succession, before ultimately offering a bottle of extra strength Tylenol to April, who accepted it gravely. 

“You’re a weird kid,” she said. From her, it was a declaration of approval. “You better plan on sticking around.”

“Oh,” Casey said at length, surprised. Clearly, he hadn’t thought ahead to what the after of his mission would be shaped like. His gaze lingered on Leo’s little bundled-up figure in the bed, so full of love and grief for a man who didn’t yet exist, and Splinter thought to hell with it. The kid was as good as his grandson if you squinted. 

“We’ll find a bed for you,” Splinter said, some tiny corner of his mind free from screaming worry and bone-deep exhaustion already plotting where to make room for another subway car. “In the meantime, the sofa is yours.”

With that, five out of six children had been packed off to sleep. It took April and Michelangelo combined to pry Donatello’s hand from Leonardo’s, and subsequently his entire person from the infirmary. Raphael pulled a chair up to Leonardo’s bed and Splinter didn’t try to argue him out, knowing when to pick his battles. 

Red had a familiar look on his face, an elephant in the room that often went unacknowledged for both their sakes. That look that said you’re his father but he’s my kid, too.

He had earned the right. No one could argue that. Late night vigils were his wheelhouse and had been ever since he was about nine years old. When Splinter didn’t have to be quite so present—when he started to let the tired gray encroach more and more, when he stopped getting out of bed right away at the sound of a child crying—Red quietly learned how to tend fevers and stomach bugs and bad dreams. 

Soon enough, the boys stopped calling for daddy when they were hurting and started calling for Raphie instead. And their Raphie always came when they called.   

Which was why it must have hurt like a blade piercing clean through his ribs when Leonardo finally stirred at something approaching two o’clock in the morning, blinked muddy gold eyes open slowly, looked up at the familiar shape of his biggest brother beside the bed, and flinched. 

The world hadn’t ended yesterday. It was happening now instead.

Splinter had thought he knew what pain was. But life did not seem to ever run out of brand new lessons to teach. 

“Leo,” Red whispered, heartbreak obvious in every inch of him. His hand was frozen in the air between them, arrested right in the middle of reaching out. 

“No,” Blue managed, twisting around like he would attempt an escape the second he figured out where his limbs were in relation to the bed, IV be damned. The lines on the heart rate monitor started to crest dramatically. 

“Leo it’s okay it’s—it’s me, I’m not—I’m not going to—I would never hurt—” 

His voice strangled itself into silence. After all, at least some of those grisly black and blue marks around Leonardo’s neck were from him. 

“Papa,” Leonardo cried out, the call reaching directly into Splinter’s heart with hooks and yanking him out of his chair. “I want papa, please, please—”

Clambering onto the bed, minding all the hardware, Splinter placed a careful hand on his second-youngest’s feverish head to soothe him. 

He felt like an imposter, especially with Red still frozen like a statue behind him, but that part of his heart that had been smothered once, allowing his children’s cries for him to go unanswered and someone else to pick up the slack, was the loudest part of him now. 

There was physically nothing else he could do but stroke that bruised forehead with the pad of his thumb and tell him, “Hush, Baby Blue, your papa is here. You are safe. You are home.” 

Leonardo turned his face into Splinter’s hand, hiding as much as he was capable of. Raphael took one staggering step back, then another, then turned on his heel and fled the way Splinter had no memory of him ever doing before, infirmary door crashing behind him. 

Torn completely in two, Splinter summoned conviction from those ancient spirits housed in his soul and forced himself at knife point to be strong for his family for once in his goddamn life. 

“What are these tears for, silly turtle?” he murmured, the same way he had when Leonardo still mostly fit in the palm of one hand. Back then, all Leonardo wanted was to be held. He wondered if that was still true. “You are the safest little turtle who ever lived. There is no one left in this world who is stronger than the people who love you, don’t you know that? Your baby brother pulled down the stars for you. Your twin did not let go of your hand even once. And your big brother carried you home. You are safe. You are so loved.”

It was a nonsense litany for the most part, all true things said to someone who clearly was only absorbing every third word or so. But Blue stopped hiding his face at some point, eyes wet with tears he is even now too stubborn to let fall. 

Splinter felt as though he was looking at a childhood memory of himself, trying to be strong when it would have been better—kinder—to allow himself a much-needed moment of weakness. 

“You think you’re too grown-up to cry in front of this old man?” he said, gently pinching Blue’s cheek on the side of his face that hadn’t been crushed beneath a monster’s fist. “Try again in about a hundred years.”

Blue blew a tired raspberry at him. Splinter laughed, surprised at the show of spirit, his heart doing cartwheels at this proof of his irrepressible little boy unchanged by the close brush with tragedy. Winning a laugh from his father was enough to coax the ghost of a smile across Blue’s face. 

“How are you feeling? We have some water for you here. No, don’t sit up. Let me help.”

He really ought to let everyone know Blue was awake, but they had just gone to sleep. His other kids needed their rest, too. It had been a truly terrible day. 

And now that Red was out of the room—that thought dripped with oily, unpleasant guilt—Blue seemed to be in a more solid state of mind. He had winced as he tried to sit up for water, but if he didn’t have whiplash after a psychotic alien flung him around like a terrier would its chew toy, Splinter would eat his tail. There were none of the red flags Casey had warned him to be on the lookout for. The only thing Draxum had done right in his life was develop a mutagen that made these boys all but indestructible. Splinter would have to find the mental fortitude to choke out a thank you to him for that. 

“It has been a long time since a sick little turtle has called for me,” Splinter murmured, stroking Blue’s forehead around the bandages. “Normally you are all ready to fight each other to the death to monopolize Red’s attention.” 

It was only partly a joke. Leonardo gazed up at him, eyes glassy. It was hard to gauge how much of their conversation was sticking the landing and how much was somersaulting straight over his sluggish head. 

Then Leonardo said, “He hates me.”

“Pardon?” Splinter said stupidly. 

His son blinked, and finally fat tears rolled down his cheeks, soaking into bandages on one side, unchecked on the other. 

“He hates me,” Blue insisted. “He’s right. It was my fault.”

“No one hates you,” Splinter said, reeling. He’d been right here the whole time and yet somehow he was suddenly flailing about two miles behind. 

“You didn’t see his face. You didn’t see—and his eye—all because I—I couldn’t—” He sobbed, an awful sound, and turned to press his face into his pillow. Once he started crying he couldn’t seem to stop. The rest of his words stumbled out thick and choked and terribly sincere. “I couldn’t just—be what I was supposed to be. And he—and it was all my fault.”

There were few things Splinter regretted more than his fumbling of the leadership role. He had always known that Blue was too clever for his own good, that he had a head for strategy—as evidenced by his early mastering of chess, entirely outpacing Splinter’s own skill level by the age of eleven. 

Acknowledging that in theory and learning to trust it in practice were two separate beasts, but watching from the front row as his baby outsmarted Big Mama of all people left little room for doubt. 

On the other hand, Red was as solid and dependable as they came, the foundation his siblings built their whole lives on. As far as they were concerned, the sun only rose in the morning because Raphael hung it up there. 

But Splinter’s eldest son was prone to anxiety that tended to fall on him like a guillotine, a kill switch to his rational thought. The twins floated terms like ‘panic disorder’ and the entire family was well-versed in helping him through his episodes, but if even an ounce of the burden on his shoulders could be reduced, that could only help. 

Red would be happier and function better in a support role, where his top priorities would be to protect his little brothers the way he always had protected them, and to smash whatever Leonardo pointed him at. 

Splinter should have sat them both down and explained it. He shouldn’t have left Red to feel as though he had done something wrong, that he had failed somehow. And he shouldn’t have let Blue believe he would be shoved into the deep end and left to sink or swim.

His boys were little gremlins who thrived in chaos and learned best on the fly. Splinter had thought the surprise announcement would have been an utter shock at first and the new normal by dinnertime. They were always so much on the same page, so in tune with one another, that he couldn’t have guessed it would turn into the tangled mess of hurt and frustration and miscommunication and blame that it did. 

He should have stepped in the first time Red punched through a wall in a fit of anger and Blue laughed as though his biggest brother’s good opinion of him didn’t matter in the slightest. Instead he was a coward, unable to face them and admit his wrongs. He left his children to resolve it themselves and suffer in the meantime. 

He should have done better. Maybe one day he would learn. 

For now Splinter held Blue’s face in one hand and wiped it clean with a cloth in the other, patient with every new flood of tears. The last time he had seen Blue cry was the night the Shredder destroyed their home and killed Karai. There had been no time to comfort him then. 

He takes after his Gram-gram, Splinter thought, and tried not to resent her for it. 

“No one hates my sweet Baby Blue,” he said, willing the stubborn child to hear him. “Especially not my other sweet baby Red. You are a very confused turtle, that’s all. You will see. No one hates you.”

“You don’t,” Leonardo mumbled. “You’re not allowed to. You’re my dad. You don’t have to like me, but you’re not allowed to hate me. S’in the—the contract. You signed it. Legally binding. No arbi-arbi—”

“Arbitration. I would like to study your mind under a microscope. Maybe then I will have a hope of understanding these twists and turns it takes.” 

Splinter’s voice sounded nothing but fond even to his own ears. 

His children were all incredible people worth knowing, worth living for, and it was a very special joy to still be surprised after all these years by how much more he loved them today than he did the day before. To think about how much more he would love them tomorrow, even though it felt impossible to love anyone more than he loved them right now. 

“You are so important, Leonardo,” Splinter said gently. “To me, and to your siblings, and to your friends. We would miss you so much if you weren’t here. We all want to see you get well.”

“It’s not about me,” Blue said, wobbly and miserable and matter-of-fact. “I know it’s not. I have to make up for it. I’ll prove—prove—”

“You have nothing to prove. It was not your fault.” Splinter pressed Leonardo’s chin gently to close his mouth when he inevitably opened it to argue. “Hush. You did not steal the key. You did not open the door. It was not even your responsibility to stop either of those things from happening. You are a child. It cannot be any one person’s duty to save this planet on their own. That doesn’t even make sense.” 

Blue’s expression was becoming thunderous, which was silly and endearing, because his cheeks were still tacky with the remnants of his tears and half of his face was a swathe of bandages and without his mask he looked years younger than he already was. Splinter felt affection unfold in his heart like one of those absurdly big tropical flowers with petals the size of dinner plates, taking up more room than it was allowed and spilling out the sides and going on forever. 

“Can I tell you something else? Your brothers aren’t allowed to hate you either. It’s in the contract as well.”

“They do,” Blue said tearfully, face still screwed up beneath Splinter’s hand. But his eyes drifted in the direction of the door, and the wanting in them was plain to see. Splinter took matters into his own hands. 

“If I’m right, you must finish watching The Strange Return of Diana Salazar with me.”

His son took a moment to digest that, slower on the uptake than usual. Finally, he asked, “Don’t we have like a hundred episodes left?”

“I said what I said,” Splinter said sagely, then patted his cheek and hopped down from the bed. 

He found Raphael exactly where he expected to find him, sitting just outside the cracked infirmary door, a hunched over shape that seemed unwilling to take up a single unnecessary inch of space. 

Red stared up at him, unbandaged eye wide. 

“I don’t hate him,” he blurted. “I could never—I wouldn’t even know how.”

“I know, my dear.”

“Even if he’d done it on purpose,” Red went on. “Even if he stole the key and took it to the Foot and opened the door with his own two hands, I wouldn’t have done a single thing differently.”

Splinter had worried when the turtles were very young that Raphael would frighten one of his siblings accidentally. He was so much bigger than them and toddlers were not well known for their self control or emotional regulation. It was a lingering fear that Red would say or do something he did not mean in the heat of the moment, and alienate himself. That something would happen in a split second that would cause his brothers to grow up wary of him. 

It was an unfounded worry. Raphael was a quiet little boy, the last of the four to start talking, and as sweet as an American dessert. Splinter’s little apple pie. Even as he got older and started playing rougher, testing his strength and raising his voice, he never forgot when he needed to be gentle. 

His brothers never ran from him unless they were avoiding bedtime or a well-deserved grounding or really did not want to go watch wrestling, Raph, it was boring. Otherwise he was their North star. 

Even now, Leonardo would rather hide himself away than face a world in which he no longer had a Raphael to run to. 

“How could he think that?” Red asked desperately. “He was going to die back there and he thought that’s what I wanted.”

Splinter cupped Red’s face in his hands and told him, “Blue was trying to do what his hero would have done. All of my children are so quick to sacrifice for each other. It is a wonderful thing to love someone so much, but consider the example you are setting.” Red’s good eye filled with tears, and Splinter was powerless to do anything but kiss him firmly on the forehead. “As empty as our lives would have been without him, they would have been just as empty without you. You are fundamental to us. Please remember that.”

“I know, pops,” Raphael whispered. “I’ll remember.”

“It is not always possible to win without losing but we must fight tooth and nail anyway. Abandon honor and heroism. Do what it takes to bring yourself and your brothers home. I would much sooner tell the great Hamato clan where they can stick it then let you join them before your time.”

It coaxed a shy smile from his eldest son, the barest exhale of a laugh. Still his sweet apple pie, no matter how big he got. 

“I’m gonna go see him,” Red said bravely. “I’m missing out on premium Leo time while the gremlins are asleep.”

“Very wise,” Splinter said, patting his cheeks in approval.

Leonardo had managed to drag the blanket up over his head while no one was around to stop him, and only one golden eye peered out at them from his makeshift shell. 

Raphael snorted and leaned over to peel it back down, heedless of his smaller brother’s protests. He let one hand linger on Leonardo’s scuffed plastron, and the other cupped the back of his bruised head. 

“You’re so dumb,” Red said. “I love you more than anything. If you ever try to go anywhere without me ever again, I’ll make your life a living hell. Capiche?”

Blue stared up at him. It’s very possible he didn’t understand every word of that. But the tone seemed to get through. 

His hand drifted up slowly, as if it weighed a thousand pounds, to cover the one planted on his chest. When the world didn’t end and his big brother continued to smile down at him like nothing between the two of them was any different than it used to be, Blue risked a smile back. 

“I capiche.”

“You’re not alone, okay?” Red went on, playfulness gentling into sincerity. “We’ll figure it out. I’m in your corner, right where I’ve always been. But for now let’s get some sleep, big man.”

He didn’t move his hands even after Leonardo had dozed off. He just hooked his foot around the leg of his chair and scooted it closer to the bed before sinking into it. 

Splinter joined him, and felt both aged by the last hour and rejuvenated. He needed a good pair of running shoes to keep up with these kids.     

“He never asks to play chess with anyone else you know,” Red said suddenly. 

Thrown by the non sequitur, Splinter could only offer an intelligent, “Huh?”

“Leo only learned how to play because of a comment you made once about—I don’t even remember what you said. But it stuck with him. He wanted to impress you. And he started learning Spanish because of those weird soaps you guys watch. He drove us crazy practicing every day but he never let up.

“I know that it seems like he does whatever he wants without rhyme or reason, but I think he just tries really hard to make it seem that way. Otherwise we’d all clue in to the fact that every single thing he does is just—him trying to get closer to us somehow. And then his cool guy cover would be blown. And god forbid that.” 

Raphael brushed his thumb over the crown of Leonardo’s head, much like the way Splinter had earlier. 

“He doesn’t love you for no reason, pops,” Red went on, not looking at him. “None of us do. Even when getting out of bed was the hardest thing in the world, you came running when I needed you. Every time I needed you. I learned all my moves from the best.”

Splinter had seen the worst of the world. He was no stranger to pain. 

It was only occurring to him now that the opposite was also true. 

His life was so full of impossibly good, underserved things; every day a little brighter, every night a little richer. 

Four little creatures tumbled into his world by chance and then filled it to the brim with mayhem and color and laughter and pride, and he would not take a second of it back. He would not change a single painful part. 

If only he had known as a young man where he would end up someday. It would have made those earlier years so much easier to survive. 

Pretending his own eyes weren’t wet, Splinter said, “It will be hell on earth in the morning when Orange discovers we let him sleep through Blue waking up. You had better rest while you can.”

Smiling to himself, Red folded his arms on the side of the bed and rested his head in them, tilted so that his brother was within line of sight of his good eye. He had capitulated to the changing of the guard without complaint, but he was still tense. Primed for danger. Anxiety no doubt at play. 

But Splinter was not without his tricks. He stroked Red’s carapace between the spikes, humming an old TV theme song under his breath. He did this for upwards of an hour once, back when Red was still small enough to be held in his lap, fussy and clingy after a bad dream. 

Sure enough, with a great, shuddering sigh, Raphael’s shoulders went slack, and his breathing evened out—asleep within moments after the day he’d had.  

“I’ve still got it,” Splinter murmured, and let himself have the win, as small as it was. If nothing else, he could give his children a safe place to rest. 

And that really was no small thing at all. 

[creampie-capital]

║ꜰʀᴀɴᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴛᴇɪɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ║

↳「ʙᴀʙʏ ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ」║ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ʙᴀʙʏᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛ ➠ 18+

ɴᴀᴍᴇ║Franken Stein

ᴀɴɪᴍᴇ/ᴍᴀɴɢᴀ║Soul Eater

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ║7,083

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘᴏᴇᴛɪᴄ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛʜᴇɴ."

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"You have to work with me, (Y/n)."

Refusing to even look at him, you set your gaze on your nails. Your legs were crossed over each other as you leaned back against the couch in the Patchwork Lab.

"If you want our relationship to grow stronge,r then you're going to have to let it go."

Disregarding Stein's words and not even giving him a glance, you stood to your feet and kicked your heels back on. "I'm going back to staying at Spirit's for a while. Send a message if you need me." You informed, tiredly reaching for your purse only for his hands to seize your wrist.

This ultimately gained your attention. Your (e/c) optics connected with his fern-hued ones. The stare-off was so intense that the air seemed thicker in the room.

"You're not going to leave just because you're a little upset. That's childish, (Y/n)." The man stated, smoke wafting from his lit cigarette.

"No." You blew out the cancer stick and yanked his hold off your wrist. "Us breaking up doesn't warrant you to go and sleep with Marie who you almost got pregnant! I mean-"

You slapped his chest with your purse, permitting a loud grunt to echo from his throat. "We broke up because you didn't want kids and I did!" You snapped before bearing a deep breath to calm yourself.

The exceedingly tall 6'10 (208 cm) male gazed down at you with an ardent stare. "You're becoming extremely emotional about this, you're not going to be able to think clearly."

"Stein." You called his last name in a warning tone. "I'm not even mad that you slept with her, we broke up, on a break. I'm mad because you don't understand how important having a family is to me, and how I want it to be with you. Almost getting her pregnant before we got back together reveals your blatant disregard for my feelings. It shows you rather put your test, questions, and experiments above everyone, above me."

It was difficult to be upset with him about these things. Stein is different than everybody else who saw anything in the world as an experiment.

He lacks the ability to understand complex emotions and most of his actions were shallow, only to benefit his dormant madness and twisted mind.

Knowing the scientist for as long as you have, you believed there was a bond the two of you shared. Something that was entirely real and something even Stein didn't understand but welcomed with great interest.

But nothing was ever enough for the mad scientist, apparently. You believed that after the death of Asura, when the madness subsided, so would his drastic lust for experimenting.

Sighing, you shook your head in defeat and strode to his zig-zag-styled doors. You halted once you arrived and flexed your fingers.

"Listen, I'm not giving up on this relationship unless that's what you want. But you have to start showing that you actually care. I know it's hard for you, but you have to work on understanding people deeper than just what's on the surface. When you're ready to show me that, come get me and I'll be happy to come home. Until then, I'll see you at work."

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Yawning aloud and waving a hand in front of your face, the bell rang and dismissed your students. They dispersed like a rushing current, all dashing past each other to get to their lunch table first.

You weren't particularly hungry, maybe because there was still a lot on your mind that the thought of even eating made your stomach churn.

There was still quite a bit of time before your next class starts so maybe you'll use this opportunity to rest. Stepping down from your platform, your heels clicked softly as you reached for the light switch.

However, to your surprise, the door to your classroom was opened, and peeking in was none other than your boyfriend and childhood lover. He gave you a jovial smile.

"(Y/n)." He expressed your name in a quiet voice and fully stepped into your classroom. His hands found their way into the pocket of his doctor's lab coat as he quirked a grin at you.

Your lips pulled into a thin-lipped expression with arms crossing underneath your chest. "What do you want, Stein?" You asked, tone uncaring and agitated.

The silver-grey-haired male rose a hand to the large screw-in-bolt in his head and turned it a few times to collect his thoughts.

"Maybe I just wanted to see you." He inquired, a glimmer arising in his round glasses permitting you to raise an eyebrow and cock your head to the side.

"That's suspicious. That's weird." The man rolled his fern-colored orbs at your response.

"It's weird that I want to see my significant other?" He questioned, shutting the door behind him. You nodded your head immediately with no hesitation.

Stein's left eye twitched slightly. "I did just want to see you." He announced. "I also wanted to do something with you."

Your brows rose as you scratched at the back of your neck. "Can't be good. If you want to dissect me then you're gonna have to wait till I die."

The handsome man laughed in his throat and your shoulders couldn't help but deflate. You wondered if his effort were fake, just one of his automatic responses or a genuine reaction.

You weren't sure and you didn't know if you knew him as well as you thought anymore.

"No, I'll save that for later." You rolled your (e/c) eyes. "I wanted to try soul resonance."

A bit taken aback, you felt your mouth slip agape. "Why do you want to do something like that now? We're not even in combat?" You questioned.

Stein nodded his head before bearing slow almost intimidating steps to your frame. His long limbs left him no trouble arriving in front of you quickly.

"You know-" He let one of his fingers caress your lower jaw, his face tilting down closer to yours. "it's not only for combat. It's also a way two souls can bond and communicate telepathically."

It took you a second to understand where things were going but as soon as you realized you had to shake your head. It was a bit clever that Stein would like to convey his thoughts to you through his mind rather than his lips.

What you wanted was for him to work on himself, to be able to express his thoughts freely. But, you guess you'll humor him for now.

"Fine." You accepted and stepped back, holding out a hand for him to take. His lips quirked into a grin as he gladly accepted your hand.

His head dipped as his lips delicately touched the back of your hand, placing a smooch on it that you still could feel even when he pulled away.

He held them in a secure hold before drawing your body to his and placing his free hand on the small of his back. Your breath hitched as the warmth of his body wafted onto your skin through your clothes.

It had been a while since the two of you touched each other and you hope he works on himself soon. You miss his touch.

Gradually you let your eyes wander back up to his face and met his gaze. Ah, those beautiful fern eyes that you fell in love with when you were only kids and still manage to fall even more in love with as adults.

"Do you remember how to dance?" He teased lightly, referring to your absentmindedness.

His words shook you from your thoughts, you blinked a few times before quickly looking anywhere but his face. "Shut it, I'm the one that taught you to dance in the first place."

He hummed in response as you brought your hand up to his shoulder and held your clasped arms outwards. Something special the two of you shared was how the tempo of your beating hearts thumped rhythmically, matching each other.

It allowed the two of you to dance with no music, resonating with the sound of living hearts that corresponded concurrently.

The movement was muscle memory, striding off with a sharp, precise step before being spun around into the next corresponding move.

Heels clicked with the tiled ground as each connecting movement only lasted for a second as the next move commenced. Your heart swelled at the feeling, your mind dizzy from the swaying but also from the nostalgia.

Your eyes found their way up to his face again, connecting with his eyes and once again falling in love with his intense gaze. The sound of your heartbeats drummed in your ears, matching with every step.

The hate, the anger, it all washed away at that moment. You'll have to cuss Stein out later, he knew what he was doing. You hate how smart he is.

Humming, you let your eyes flutter shut and perform every dancing step with excellent precision until your body began to illuminate a white glow.

Your grip on each other's hands grew tight before you morphed into your weapon form. Unlike his previous demon weapon partners who were a scythe, a hammer, and a demon lamp, you were a reverse grip dagger.

The blades were silver, extending alongside his arms and stopping just below his elbow. The matching daggers were connected together by a gold chain at the hilt that grew when he needed it to.

Now that you were was transformed, the hypnotic intimate dance came to a halt as he stared down at your weapon in his hands.

"Ah." He crooned. "It's been a while since I've held you like this."

You snorted, shaking your head within your weapon form. "No, it's been a while since you've held me in human form."

Your childhood lover performed a few attacks at an invisible enemy before chuckling to himself. "How about you transform back and I'll make you remember how my touch in that human form? We still have... say thirty minutes left. Should be enough, right?" He mused.

"Franken Stein!" You hissed. "You're just trying to use cheap tricks to get me to come home!"

The handsome man shrugged his shoulders. "Worth a try."

"Idiot. Either soul resonates with me or get out of my classroom." You shot back.

He whispered 'fine' before inhaling a deep breath and readying his stance. You swallowed the saliva in your mouth before steadying your breathing.

Focus took over your minds as the connection between the two of you grew stronger. Your lips parted, ready to call out soul resonance until a loud commotion distracted you both.

The door to your classroom was slammed open, Spirit's figure sweeping inside as he shouted. "Hey Stein, Marie is asking for your help."

It became awfully still in the classroom as you heard the woman's name. Your heart lurched in your throat as a burning fury coursed through your veins.

It disrupted your melodic heartbeats and broke the rhythm the two of you were sharing.

You weren't even mad at Marie, no; it was just that hearing her name was a reminder of how she almost got what you wanted, how Stein's curiosity meant more to him than you.

These feelings—the hate, the pain—began to make your souls incompatible. The handle of your blades began to seethe with heat until it was like molten Lava.

The Meister had to release your form, dropping you down as you quickly shifted back to your original appearance. "Looks like you're busy." Your words were callous as you turned around to collect your jacket from the coat rack. "Turn off the lights when you leave."

You didn't wait to hear any responses, no excuse at all. Brushing past the Albarn male, your heels clicked down the hall, leaving the former partners in your old classroom.

"Spirit," Stein called.

The said male turned back to face the mad scientist only for his jaw to slacken. Stein's soul began to project forward, his strength infusing with the air and making sweat drip down the back of Spirit's neck.

"I'm going to dissect you fully now."

A loud scream echoed through the halls as the Death Scythe ran for his life with the Elite Meister following behind.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

So, Plan A of 'Getting my future wife back' did not pan out how the mad scientist wanted.

But that's alright, he had another plan in mind in case Plan A didn't work out as he needed it to. With the power of persuasion, he managed to get you to agree to a date.

The first part consisted of dinner at a grandiloquent restaurant. Spirit and Marie decided to dress up in disguise so they could watch your date and assist Stein since he tended to lack common sense sometimes.

They sat a few tables down, peeking over their menus to observe your interactions. And it didn't look like things were going well.

Your arms were crossed under your chest, and you kept your gaze away from your significant other. This may have been petty, but it only fueled the growing turmoil inside.

When the waiter made his round to your table and asked what your meals would be, Stein confidently said a dish that had you gagging at even hearing the name.

How did he not remember you hated that? And how could he forget your favorite meal?

It was not looking good for the Elite Meister who could be seen visibly sweating. The date had just started and he was already f*cking up.

"So um, how has your class been doing?" He questioned, attempting small talk.

You glanced up from your phone before returning your gaze back to the cellular device. "Fine."

An awkward silence surrounded the two of you as Stein struggled to come up with the right words and you struggled to find any patience to stay.

The usually cool, level-headed man was at his wit's end at the moment. He didn't know how to give you what you wanted, he didn't know the correct words to say.

A genius, a prodigy, and he struggled to convey his emotions. You were the only one that could make him feel so weak. The only one that he couldn't stump or trick. The only one that had him so nervous, not even twisting the screw-in-bolt could help him focus.

This was going to be a long date.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Plan B ended horribly and made things considerably worse! He must be on his last life at this point with you.

There was only one more thing he could do, and there was no guarantee that it would work.

You let out a breath as you turned the key into the Patchwork Lab and unlocked the door. The first thing you saw was utter darkness.

"Stein, even if I am not here, I told you to keep the curtains open! My plants need what little light they can get!" You shouted down the hall before setting your purse on a stand and nearing the windows.

With exasperated movements, you slid open the dark curtains and tied them with ribbons to keep them open. By the time you finished, there was still no response, causing you to exhale audibly.

Your heels clicked on the floor as you made your way to the living room, hoping the male was by one of his computers.

However, once you entered, you saw nobody around. The only thing that indicated anybody was there was the small lamp turned on by the couch.

Stepping towards it, you noticed a small, worn-down book atop a folded blanket. It was one of your favorites, and the one the mad scientist had gotten you for your birthday a few years ago.

The sight before you was suspicious, it had you pucker your lips from the sketchiness. But it was obvious what this was for, he wanted you to read it.

Exhaling a breath, you scooted over the objects before taking their place and unraveled the blankets so they could cover your lower body.

Analyzing the outsides of the book, you could tell it was rather old, and whoever had it before had clearly used it a lot.

Its spine was creased all over, the once smooth leather now crinkled and ridged. What you assumed used to be creme white pages looked to have met water with how the bottom of the pages curved and some tinted a dimmer hue.

How odd.

Turning the book back to the front, you slowly opened the hardcover and saw long paragraphs.

This wasn't just a book, it was a journal. And it belonged to Franken Stein.

You did a quick skim, flipping through some pages to see that the dates started years ago, when the man was just a kid, newly enrolled in the DWMA, and continued until a few days ago.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

↳𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐀𝐧 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

◆𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥. 𝘐𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴.

𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴, 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥.

𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦.

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘱𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵. 𝘌𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦.

𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘺, 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.◆

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

A smile graced your lips at the memory of your childhood, back when the two of you were new students at the Death Weapon Meister Academy.

He was such an outcast, beating up other students and threatening to kill or dissect them. You even found him fascinating.

It was intriguing to read his thoughts and how he truly felt, and you couldn't help but want to read more. And so you did.

Every entry you read thoroughly, remember how the events happened for you, and you compared them to how Stein perceived them.

What you've come to realize is that the mad scientist wasn't void of intense human emotions; he was clearly experiencing them; he just didn't know how to explain them.

There was another journal entry from your teenage years that caught your attention because of its simple title.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

↳𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

◆𝘚𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘵, (𝘠/𝘯), 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 '𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘯𝘪𝘤'. (𝘠/𝘯) 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘫𝘰𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘵-𝘩𝘶𝘦𝘥 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴.

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘬, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘴.

𝘐 𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘐 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 (𝘠/𝘯) 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬.

𝘈𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘚𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘺. 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘶𝘱.

(𝘠/𝘯) 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘶𝘱. "𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘴?" 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦.

𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. "𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 (𝘧/𝘤)," 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥.

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳.

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘴 (𝘧/𝘤) 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴.

𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 (𝘧/𝘤). 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵.

(𝘠/𝘯) 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. "𝘐 𝘣𝘦𝘵 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘴!"

"𝘎𝘰 𝘢𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥," 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵.

𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦. 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳, 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺.

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦.

"𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯!" 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘻𝘻𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘬𝘺. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘐 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘻𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘵, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦.

𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘦.

(𝘠/𝘯)'𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘴, 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺.

𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦.

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘳𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘶𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘰.

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯, 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨. 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵.

𝘚𝘰 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.

(𝘠/𝘯) 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘱 𝘚𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘵. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘸 𝘶𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘱 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘵.

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘐𝘧 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘥.

𝘈 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘸 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮. 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦.

𝘐'𝘮 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘥 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.

𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘯𝘪𝘤 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 (𝘠/𝘯)'𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘥𝘶𝘦𝘥. 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳-𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥.

𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦. 𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘴? 𝘖𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘤? 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦.

𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦... 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳.◆

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Your face felt wet and it wasn't until a droplet of water spread across the pages did you notice you were crying.

Sniffling aloud, you dabbed the tears away with the sleeve of your top. You had to take a few deep breaths to stop a sob that wanted to arise.

This was something you never knew. He's never voiced his thoughts or emotions like this to you. It was just always assuming and guessing with him.

But this was everything you wanted to know. It made him appear so human, so real, capable of feeling complex emotions.

There were a bit more pages left, so you decided to finish the rest. Like the entry that you had just read, the observations leading up to you asking him to be in a relationship were similar to each other.

Feelings he didn't recognize, he wrote it all down and attempted to make sense of it, but failed. You never realized, well you couldn't tell how much you were on his mind.

He cared for you more than you ever thought and it only made the tears cascade down your face continuously.

There was one last written page in the journal, it was recent.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

↳(𝐘/𝐧)

◆𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵. 𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦.

"𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶."

𝘞𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺. 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘸.

𝘐 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮, 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸.

"𝘞𝘦'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘔𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘢𝘺. 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘈 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦."

𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘸-𝘪𝘯-𝘣𝘰𝘭𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦, 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸.

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘦? 𝘞𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘋𝘞𝘔𝘈, 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘹 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘺.

𝘚𝘰 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘰. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰.

𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵, 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬, 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵,

𝘚𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

"𝘐𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘦𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘶𝘱. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘐'𝘮 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦."

𝘖𝘩, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵. 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵. 𝘙𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘷𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥.

𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 ��𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳. 𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧𝘪𝘴𝘩, 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘴𝘰 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬-𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥.

𝘚𝘰 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥: "𝘎𝘰 𝘢𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥."

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘺.

𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

(𝘠/𝘯) 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥. 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦𝘵𝘺.

𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵, 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦.

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥. 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸.

𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴, 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 (𝘠/𝘯) 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳.

𝘐𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘦, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳.

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 (𝘠/𝘯), 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 (𝘠/𝘯), 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺. 𝘈𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦.◆

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

You didn't even realize your arms were shaking until someone grasped them to calm you down. The touch was familiar and so was the warmth.

Stein's hands slowly released yours, allowing you to close the book and place it on the stand next to the couch.

Taking a deep breath, you wiped your face free of tears and trained your gaze up to face the man. He wore an unreadable expression but you could see the strain in his fern-colored optics.

At the moment, you didn't know what to say. All the information you had absorbed was exhausting. You were feeling so much, and it was overwhelming to finally understand and see how he truly felt.

But you didn't realize how much you needed to know it.

"I struggle with a lot of things..." Stein's voice was quiet, just loud enough for you to hear. "I don't know how to express myself correctly, and my emotions are poorly developed, but I have never once doubted how much I care about you."

He kneeled down so his height was less intimidating and reached for your hands that you slowly clasped your fingers with.

"What I did was wrong, I know. I... am sorry."

It was rare to receive an apology from Stein, even rarer if he vocalized it. You knew he really meant it and it wasn't just to please you.

"Well, it looks like you're forgiven." You mused, sniffling at the end. The mad scientist shielded his fern orbs with his eyelids as he inhaled deeply.

"I don't know how much longer I could have gone without you." He breathed while leaning forward so his forehead could press against yours.

A grin etched its way to your face. "According to your journal, I was the air you needed to breathe and without me, you would suffocate."

He pulled back slightly and removed his round glasses. "Hey, that was young adult me. I was rather poetic back then." He stated.

You puckered your lips before releasing his hands so you could wrap them around his neck. "Then let's go more recent. You wrote that I was someone for whom you would commit a selfless act. Who you would put even above yourself."

Stein didn't say anything, instead, his large hands removed the blanket from your legs so he could wrap them around your waist and heave you up in the air.

You squeaked slightly from the surprise and tightened your hold around his neck. "Stein, what are you-"

"I've missed you." He interjected, stepping out of the living room and down the hall to his laboratory.

Humming softly, you leaned forward so your face hid in the crook of his neck. While blowing air against his throat, you felt him shiver and another one arise when you kissed his skin tenderly.

"(Y/n)."

You sighed dreamily at hearing your name leave his mouth breathlessly. "I've missed you so much."

Arriving at his lab, the male set you down on the examining table and pulled back to gaze upon your features. His hands squeezed and caressed your thighs while breathing softly.

"If you would allow-" He leaned forward, letting his lips graze the shell of your ear lightly. "-I'd like to show you how much I missed you."

The insinuating tone to his voice had your tummy tingle and your throat swallow thickly. "I'm all yours."

Stein never made empty promises or turned back on his words. If he said he was going to show you how much he missed, he was going to give it his all.

He had leaned down from his tall stature and captured your lips with his. He was impatient, almost needy as his lips moved against yours.

You could taste him, that unforgettable tang from his tongue. Coffee and most importantly tobacco. You hated smoking or anything to do with cigarettes but when the taste came from his own mouth you desired more.

Your fingers played with his silver-grey locks, lightly tugging before entangling your fingers in them. The man pushed himself against you, desiring to feel your warmth and to feel your body against his.

A hand left your thigh only to creep up to your stomach and snake underneath the clothing item. He caressed your bare skin, dragging his calloused fingertips along your tummy.

The man was touched starved, deprived of any sort of contact for far too long. The sensation of touching your own skin drove him to a hunger he never knew he had.

Wasting no time he pulled back only so your top could be removed but once the appeal no longer shielded your bare body from the man's view his lips were back on yours.

The moment was feverish but also intimate, the two of you felt closer than ever. The information of Stein's true thoughts and feelings made the moment so much more special.

And since you now know what he always kept hidden, he didn't feel like he needed to hold anything back.

His hands removed the bra that supported your breast and replaced the garments with the rough texture of his palms.

The mad man was growing madder. A hunger that formed in the pit of his stomach grew, the longing to be as close to you as can be was overtaking his hazy mind.

Your childhood lover pulled back, the two of you panting, desperate for air but frantic for more. Stein removed his lab coat which was quickly followed by his stitched shirt.

His pale chest was all there for you to view. You soaked in the sight of the firm abbs that flexed when he sucked in a breath deeply.

Lightly you traced the long stitched mark that was wrapping around his left shoulder, down across his pectoral and ribs before reaching down to waistline by crossing over his lower abdomen.

You could feel his body shudder and see his adam's apple bob as he swallowed thickly. No matter how many times the two of you have seen each other's bodies, it felt like you were seeing them for the first time.

Always the both of you found something new on each other, something that you made sure to engrave into your minds.

Stein leaned down to kiss the middle of your throat, trailing wet kisses as he carefully removed your bottom and undergarment.

There was no shame, nothing to hide. He's known your body, every nook, and cranny since you were teens.

His lips trailed from your neck, down the valley of your breast, following the middle of your tummy until he reached between your legs.

Franken Stein was a starving man and you were the never-ending buffet he kept coming back to. He ravished your body, devouring your taste, your smell in an absolute bid of madness.

His name echoed from your lips, reverberating off your chest and ringing in his ears. Your regular voice just calling his name was enough to make his knees buckle.

But when you moaned it, wailing it out in submissions of pleads made everything in him weak. More, he had to give you more.

His fingers aided his mouth in his desire to express his longing for you. The other hand gripped onto a thigh as if attempting to mold the two of you together.

Bruises formed underneath his fingers tips, decorating your skin in markings of his unhinged eros. His hair was being pulled and tugged as his name rasped from your throat.

One time wasn't enough, it didn't satisfy his point of making you see how much he missed you. He brought you to the edge multiple stints, hearing your cries grow louder when he had your entire lower body quivering beneath him.

By the time he was satisfied with the number of your climaxes, you were already a mumbling mess. Sweat coated your skin, shimmering in the laboratory light.

Your breathing was uneven, chest rising and falling unrhythmically. Oh, how he drank in the sight of his lover in such a state.

The feelings, the sensations, all of it has never been as strong as it is when he is with you. And he wanted you to feel that.

The Meister didn't waste any time removing the remainder of his clothing so he was just as bare as you, just as vulnerable.

He held your face in his large hands, meeting your swollen lips with his again, tasting yourself as well as him.

This time it was slower but just as profound. In between every kiss he whispered your name breathlessly and relayed every bit of information that he loved about you.

Your eyes, your smile, your scent, your warmth. The list went on until your eyes glazed with tears.

I love you—and I love you so much—was repeated from your mouth like a broken record. Just saying it didn't feel like enough. No matter how many times you sounded it, you wanted to express it more.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, pushing him closer to you and eagerly begging for him to finally connect his body with yours.

His response was licking the smooth skin of your throat and decorating it in contusions, creating colorful blemishes on display for anyone to see.

When he had his fill, his hands intimately held onto your waist, his face inching down to your tummy where he placed wet kisses along with it.

All the while he enters himself inside, he hears the ragged gasp of amazement and content leave your lips.

Your lover reached deep, grazing against sensitive areas that had you jolt and quiver beneath. Just as desperate as he was when he ravished your body was just as frantic as his longing to bring you to another climax.

He rolled himself out, letting you feel every inch fade only for you to greedily devour him when he entered back in.

Not only could you hear his grunts and groans, but you feel those exhales along your tummy. It tickled you lightly, adding to the stimulation of his already sensual thrust.

Pleads and cries for more seemed to be the only thing you could say. Even though he was already so deep, kissing your body intimately, you wanted more like you wanted to be a part of him completely.

Your love for him held no bounds, it only grew like a lush forest left untouched. And the same for you could be said about the man who was unraveling above you.

His strong grips formed bruises underneath just as his mouth did on your abdomen. He wanted to swallow your moans down his throat just as much as he wanted to hear them.

Your nails dug into the soft flesh of his shoulders, creating crescent-shaped blemishes the closer you came to breaking the skin.

His groans grew louder, throatier when you reached your high. Singing his name like a melodic hymn, praising him like a divine god.

When it came time for his own high, he usually pulled out if he wore no contraceptive. But this time he made no indication of doing so.

Instead, he wrapped his arms around your body, holding you so tightly you could hear his heartbeat. When ecstasy filled his veins, he released inside.

And one point even whispered some words into your ear that were quick to rejuvenate you of your exhaustion.

"We're not stopping until I know you're pregnant."

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"Hey, Stein."

The male hummed as he kept his gaze on your leg, massaging your tense muscles and smoothing out any knots.

He was kneeling in front of your frame that rested on the couch, playing with the ends of a small envelope.

"I received this newsletter in the mail the other day. Want to hear it?"

"Sure."

You used your nail to undo the glue and pulled out a few sheets of paper. Quickly skimming over the paragraphs, you nodded your head. "Hmm, well it says here... Oh my!"

The male's gaze flew to your face only to see you give him an ecstatic smile. Turning the paper around to face him, you spoke in a dainty voice.

"You're going to be a father."

His heart skipped a beat.

Stein had accepted the idea of having a child with you, just thinking of it as another part of his life. But as soon as he heard those words his throat closed.

He felt it—that joy that only you could give him surged through his veins. He felt enlightened, as if the world had opened a door to the universe's secret and allowed him to retain information no one else had ever done.

You leaned forward to place a soft smooch on his nose to gain his attention that had clearly wandered off. "Are you going to write about this in your journal?" You sought.

The man observed your frame for a second before shaking his head of silver-grey hair. "No." He murmured under his breath.

His hands rose from your leg to your hip, pulling you closer to his body. He neared his face to yours and basked in the sight of your twinkling eyes.

"I don't need the journal to understand how much I love you. I know that I am thankful and that I am elated."

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 @𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐞

Phew, I thought I knew Franken Stein but turns out he ended up being much different than I remembered.

It's been decided that softcore smut is the way to go now.

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𝐌𝐚𝐦𝐚 signing out

See ya later, 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐌𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐬!

[patchwork-lab-shenanigans]

so before i post a lot of pics, i should probably bring up....

these two love being naked.

a lot. (stein insulted spirit, that was spirit's reaction.)

like, a lot... (not a pleasant convo anymore... spirit's revenge. that was the same night.)

QUITE a lot.

now, these above photos were all from their extremely successful jungle vacation. but the nudist behavior did start at home.....

so yeah, just get used to images of them naked or half-naked, it's their preferred state apparently or something i have no idea OTL

bonus: this is how stein looks after spirit when spirit leaves the room

[noir-drabbles]

Ash 4

Summary: You have long since fused a piece of yourself into his spine. Forever will a part of you be with him. However, the effects on him have been... uncomfortable.

(Hehehehe Ash suffering here we go! I'm fascinated by the idea of him having a piece of the monster reader just, there in his spine, doing who knows what to him. I think that would be fun, Ash having an extension of sorts right up in there. But now I'm just wondering if I should make this doctor character a, you know, an actual character.)

Ash has not once felt any amount of pain. The only thing he could feel right now was this emanating heat right from every dip and curve in his spine. It didn't bother him in the same way heat flashes would, but it made him… nervous. Uncomfortable. He didn't want anyone touching that place but what he wants mattered little to anyone else other than you.

A cold, gloved finger touched the base of his neck, then traced down the skin along his spine. Ash bit down on his sleeve, curling inwards as though that'll do anything to make it stop. Again, it wasn't pain. It was simply… uncomfortable. Like touching a scar that was much too deep and too close to your bone.

It wasn't bad, but calling it good was just… weird, but that's what it was. It felt… good. And Ash hated it.

"How does it feel?" He heard the white coat ask, voice softer than what Ash's used to, but that's been the pattern lately. A bunch of softer and kinder voices simply because he has a new and interesting use. "Any pain? Any problems right there? Changes to routine even?"

"Just, heat," A lot of heat. It's been hitting the backs of his lungs and made breathing weird. "Lot of it. No pain. It just feels weird. More weird than usual."

"Increased sensitivity then," the doctor mused than decided to pinch just as Ash was relaxing. He couldn't help the moan that was strangled out of him, "A pleasurable sensitivity at that."

Ash curled in further, his stomach churning, then dropped into the abyss altogether when he heard the lightest of laughter from the doctor.

Laughter meant amusement, joy at his expense. It will be made a memory, then will be spread over a coffee break. Others will know, and they will get curious. They'll poke at his spine when they think he's not looking. They'll make him do those noises again.

And what can he do about it? Nothing. Because he's a useless man that has nothing to his non-existent name. All he can do is stay curled up as he always does, the wounded animal he always felt he was.

Another, lighter pinch was given at the very base of his back. Ash curled his toes, but was almost proud that he managed to stay silent. He was panting behind his hand, sure, but being a silent shriveling mess was better than being a moaning one.

Alright, alright. Calm down, think of something other than that damn pinching. Get his mind away from the deep pulsing pleasure from his spine and gut.

He needs to know.

Ash gulped out, "Will this go away?"

He can't tell this doctor to stop. For all he knows, this could be all a play for this doc's sadistic pleasure and data collection all in one. If Ash challenges that nasty combo, he knows the punishment will be worse. Ash can no longer be thrown away, so death will not be end result. He's not allowed to die.

Not so long as traces of you remain in his spine. A damn curse on one hand, but you're the closest thing he has to a friend. What can he do besides let you do what you like? It's nice, seeing you happy, even if the attention will lead to more of the same torture.

“Hmm, perhaps it will, perhaps it won’t,” the doctor finally stopped his pinching, settling for a simple pat just under his neck, “personally, I’d prefer if it never went away. It’s rather fascinating, you know. As much as I’m curious to see all these contained creatures up close, I know very well I’m safest here.”

So, by all means, continue suffering for my sake.

And, as though he couldn’t do it himself–he couldn’t, he had to be walked here by one of the workers–the doctor tied his gown back up. Finally, his bare back was hidden. But now clothes were starting to feel itchy.

“Alright, we’re done here,” the man got up and knocked on the door, “I hope to see you again soon.”

[masteraqua]

let's talk about radiant garden!

hello and welcome back to another installment of KH3 Retry, my chaotic thought experiment where i try to fix everything i hate about the game

i've said it before and i'll say it again: radiant garden should have been the playable hub world instead of twilight town. there are so many plot threads wrapped up in this world, so many paths that cross here, and it's a shame that kh3 never bothered to explore them in any meaningful way

instead, all of the world's depth is flattened into set dressing for tedious exposition, with all the things that made it memorable either cut entirely or moved to twilight town, a poor substitute which is itself lacking in any meaningful development

so let's talk about it! i have a veritable mountain of ideas for what radiant garden could have been like in a universe where it continued to matter after bbs

take my hand

even beyond the general lack of final fantasy in kh3, which is its own can of worms, brushing the restoration committee aside and reducing all of their hard work to an unplayable HD recreation of the bbs map is downright bleak. as much as nomura wants to, you can't just sweep legacy characters under the rug and expect me to forget about them. i'm glad they at least got to appear in re:mind, but it doesn't change the fact that their absence feels like a massive, gaping hole in reality, like the universe has written them out of existence. i'm sure sora can relate

the problem is best summed up by ienzo:

yeah. that's called regression, and it sucks.

so on that note, please disregard (almost) everything that happens in radiant garden in kh3, because we are starting from scratch babeyyyy!!!

this got really long so i broke it down into sections covering different topics

-----

introduction

the town, finally livable again, looks not quite like the utopia of its past, but still beautiful, with the gardens of its namesake in full bloom and the streets filled with smiling faces

the debris has been cleared away to make room for zigzagging rows of houses and apartments, all built in a mish-mash of styles, sizes, and colors—a mosaic of the lives lived outside of this world. from a distance, the vast array of colors resembles a flowerbed, vibrant and alive

baskets of multicolored flowers hang from windows and the beginnings of vines grow around corners. now that the aqueduct system has been restored, life has really begun to flourish all around

patchwork stone walls and bridges weave through the town and line the border. outside the city walls, the water levels have risen and settled, but you can still see remnants of crumbling, moss-covered architecture poking through the surface

finally: the castle, once a pristine but imposing fortress, has been repurposed as a community center. the gates and guards have been removed so that the townspeople can visit freely, and indeed the balconies and halls are usually busy. just like the rest of town, plants bloom in abundance along its facade, nurtured by the light

the library has been reopened and other public services have moved into the castle to help with day to day life. however, some areas are closed off to the public for safety reasons

-----

characters

we'll start with cid—a brand new helipad and gummi garage have been built into one of the castle's tallest towers, and, naturally, he's in charge! now that the restoration is complete, he can focus on his true passion: flying contraptions :) he offers special blueprints for completing gummi ship challenges (including races, maybe??). he also runs a revamped gummi shop, with assistance from chip and dale

speaking of chip and dale, they've been busy. on top of inventing the gummiphone, they've also set up an inter-world network to connect the computers in disney castle and radiant garden, among other places, so they can share data, including the data from jiminy's journals

as a result, data riku gets a cameo as the equivalent of the network's clippy

over in the castle's lab, ienzo and leon are sorting through all of ansem the wise's notes for anything that might help sora or the town. they're working together, but the alliance is...uneasy. ienzo, dilan, and aeleus were, of course, with the people who kidnapped and experimented on civilians before inviting the darkness that destroyed everything. leon only agrees to their involvement on the condition that he supervises, and he always keeps his gunblade within reach

while leon manages the lab, yuffie manages aeleus and dilan as captain of the guard—or, as she calls it, Supreme Ninja Guardian. goofy congratulates her on the promotion! the two men don't particularly enjoy reporting to a teenager, but they also don't put up a fight because yuffie is actually quite reliable despite her antics, and she knows the town like the back of her hand. mainly they deal with any stray heartless that the claymore defense sytem doesn't catch. they feel that it's the least they can do

back in town, a new and improved shopping district has opened up, which is where you'll find aerith's gardening shop! you can trade her common cooking ingredients for specialty ones that she grows herself. when she's not running the shop, she's usually tending to the flowers around town or helping with the community garden

merlin's house hasn't changed, but it has moved, as is his tendency. it's now situated in a park on the outskirts of town, away from all the hubbub. since it's no longer being used as a base of operations, all the computer junk has been excised so he can finally have some peace and quiet. he's recently come into possession of a new project, which we'll get into later

after the events of this game, when ansem the wise has returned to radiant garden, he retires to live out the remainder of his days in peace, leaving the lab in ienzo's hands. the town has moved on without him and has no need for the rulers of its past. his former apprentices, especially ienzo, visit him from time to time, and i think he'd get on well with merlin

-----

axel and kairi

okay so axel and kairi! remember how both of them are from radiant garden? well instead of locking the two of them in a hyperbolic time chamber while the plot stalls out, how about letting them hang out here and bond over the things they have in common?

imagine axel's history with me. lea knew kairi's grandma as the kind old lady down the road who would hand out treats to all the neighborhood kids. he and isa once played a childish prank on her and got in heaps of trouble with their parents. they had to apologize to her in front of a crowd, which convinced them to never pull a stunt like that again (instead, they pivoted toward sneakier, much more dangerous stunts)

axel is also roughly the same age as leon (based on kh1 concept art and inference) so they probably went to school together, though they hung out with different crowds. leon remembers lea as an obnoxious class clown, but axel remembers squall as a broody punk. i think they'd get along now. imagine the banter

since they're not doing any dumb keyblade training

axel takes kairi on a tour of the town and shows her where her grandmother's house was. unfortunately, the lot is now empty, having been cleared of the wreckage. as tribute, kairi picks some of the nearby flowers and lays them in the place it used to stand

her conversations with axel help to clear up some of her hazy memories, which is something she's always been a little scared to do, but now something for which she's grateful. axel's just glad that he's doing something good for once

as kairi's happy memories begin to resurface, so too do the bad ones, and eventually they lead her deep within the castle to the ark where xehanort upended her life. she finds another one of xehanort's reports here with cryptic hints about what his intentions really were—something related to what he calls "the other side" of light and darkness

this concept is vaguely familiar to ienzo as something he overheard in the castle as a child, but he doesn't know any more about it. with any luck, something will turn up in ansem's notes

and then there's subject x, the girl axel and saix befriended inside the castle as children. i'll talk more about this further down

-----

gameplay

one of the defining features of the rebuilt radiant garden is that all the new architecture allows for a variety of ways to get around. you can take the stairs and bridges, of course, but you can also glide along the aqueducts, climb over rooftops, and swing across steel beams

i have a specific vision of being able to parkour your way up and down the outside of the castle on a series of jungle gym contraptions

it should also be noted that i have nothing but disdain for kh3's wall running ability, as i feel it takes all the fun out of platforming, so go ahead and pretend that doesn't exist

in addition to the gardening shop, the new shopping district houses the item, weapon, and accessory shops (manned by, who else, donald's nephews) as well as a moogle emporium for synthesis and keyblade upgrades

i'm also moving remi and the bistro here since twilight town is getting the axe. nothing else about them or the cooking minigames is changing, because they're fun and cute and i like them as is <3 i think scrooge decided to open shop here to stimulate the town's burgeoning economy. it's his way of helping

the outdoor movie theater can come too since it's related to the classic kingdom minigames. just stick it in a corner somewhere

-----

the castle

while the castle was being renovated, leon and the others uncovered even more secret passages, because this building is a lovecraftian nightmare. this is one of the areas barred off from the general public, but leon says that sora can go check it out whenever he has time. he might even join the party? 🤔

the passages lead deep into the earth and appear to be so old that ansem the wise may not have even known they existed

i've gotta tread lightly when it comes to lore that might be overturned in the future, but basically i want this to be an optional dungeon, à la cavern of remembrance, that hints at a connection to scala ad caelum and/or daybreak town. but the specifics are undecided

maybe the dark inferno boss can be moved here?? gotta think more about that one

also related to exploring the castle, i think we should get to see the chamber of repose and the prison cells connected to it, possibly by way of the new passages. both of these things play a role in the story

the chamber represents the part of xemnas that remembers being terra, which is something i want to flesh out more in this AU, to give xemnas more of an identity than master xehanort's goon. perhaps he and anti-aqua (see here for details) have a confrontation? imagine aqua discovering her armor in xemnas's secret clubhouse, imagine how conflicted she'd feel about him being her enemy

as for the prison...

-----

subject x

the prison cells once housed a girl known only by the designation of "subject x," a girl whom team nort seems very interested in these days

when subject x vanished, apprentice xehanort's experiments were brought to an abrupt halt. now, ansem SoD, ever the scientist, is spearheading the search to find the test subject that got away so he can finally complete the research he started all those years ago

saix, meanwhile, has been waiting for this opportunity since the day he joined the organization, and so volunteers to assist. if he plays his cards right, he may be able to kill two birds with one stone: find his friend, and commit subterfuge

but while ansem SoD is convinced that his old master had something to do with the girl's disappearance, saix is more perceptive. he had never trusted xigbar to begin with, but now the man is acting even more suspicious whenever the topic arises

at some point i want saix to go pester axel and try to deliver a covert message about the organization's plans, including subject x. he's a double agent, after all

axel doesn't have much reason to trust saix, but he takes the hint and goes to check the prison cell where they talked to her. what he finds is evidence that she must have been taken by someone within the castle, i.e. a keycard or something

basically i want saix and axel to have a more active role in this plot thread, seeing as it's the reason they joined the organization in the first place

unfortunately the subject x stuff can't really be resolved in this game since we still don't know her identity for sure. but since she's definitely from the union x era, i'm thinking maybe i can leave a clue in that optional dungeon, along with all the other stuff related to the age of fairytales

-----

hundred acre woods

also when those secret passages in the castle were uncovered, they found something else of interest: another volume of the winnie the pooh books, which merlin has been studying. it's in pretty bad condition, and while he's been trying to restore it, he's hit a wall, and so asks sora to check it out from the inside

inside, sora discovers that the books contain a shared universe, but the pathway to the first book is blocked due to the damage to the book's structure

it's implied that there's a whole series of these books, which merlin has been trying to collect for millenia

i'm cutting the entire plot of kh3's hundred acre woods because it goes nowhere and i hate it. what i would like to do is find a way to shoehorn in the plot of the tigger movie, but i haven't thought it through

in any case, you can count on more minigames 💃

-----

miscellaneous thoughts that didn't fit anywhere else

i wonder how riku feels about being back in the castle where he experienced his darkest moments. i go back and forth about this

in case you're wondering, my headcanon is that cloud isn't from radiant garden. i haven't decided if he's showing up in this AU, but if he does, it'll be in a different world. maybe he keeps in touch with aerith though?

with all that said, i would be down for a rinoa cameo! kh2 got my hopes up ;__;

i have an inkling of a potential tron/rinzler cameo by virtue of the bug blox appearing in san fransokyo. haven't worked through all that though. maybe the inter-world network intercepts a rogue signal that corrupts some data in the hollow bastion OS or something, idk

speaking of which, i know i also want to loop yen sid in to the network, simply because i never want to see the inside of his tower ever again. this could have been an email etc. etc. and if i have anything to say about it, it will be

i guess i could connect twilight town as well, but the problem is that nothing happens there, which is why i wanted to remove it in the first place