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paytato435 · 6 months

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Chapter 7: Stability

Sunshine

Casey carefully noted the time he left the library and figured, with a little embellishment, he could easily explain away why he would be so late getting home everyday. And if he really needed help with homework, at least he’d have something to talk to Big Mama’s turtle about.

That sounded really boring. Maybe he shouldn’t do that.

But Angel had somehow made world history more interesting, and he could tell she was very interested in the subject. She went over the driest facts and notes and somehow turned it into legend. Which kind of amused Casey because she didn’t seem to be the type of person to be into such things. Well, who was Casey to judge? Appearances hardly meant anything these days.

Feeling more optimistic than he had in a while, Casey found himself arriving all too quickly to the Grand Nexus Hotel.

As it turned out, Big Mama’s idea of getting her prisoners to socialize was to lock the both of them in the musk turtle’s bedroom. It was huge. Trophies, medals, and large paintings covered the four royal purple walls. There was a large armoire on the wall adjacent to him, and an ornate vanity across the room. Horrifyingly, there was the head of a stuffed ogre yokai mounted above the bed.

The bedroom also had a window looking over the arena- Casey had to admit, it was a pretty sick view. When he approached the glass, the girl followed him too.

“So, do you actually talk at all?” She just looked at him with curious brown eyes.

Cool, very cool.

“At least you have a good view of the arena. It’s something to watch. Are you in here all day?”

The girl shook her head. Casey turned around and looked at all the paintings on the walls. Most of them were portraits of Big Mama’s champions; posing, dying, ripping apart their competitors. It was a little hard to look away from it all.

“This place is claustrophobic,” he whispered, more to himself than to the girl. He did a little circle of the room, before plopping down on the bed. “What do you do all day?”

The girl turned back to face the window and sat down on the floor.

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Casey watched her for a couple minutes as she stared out at the arena. Far down below, Mama’s ever triumphant kraken swung its nasty arms at a horde of small mice yokai. Or maybe they were hamsters- they were too small and too far away to tell.

Casey sat back down next to the girl.

“Big Mama says you don’t remember anything from before she picked you up. Is that true? Are you a yokai, or a mutant like me? Do you even know?” the girl shrugged her shoulders.

“I wish we knew your name. Stinkpot is an awful thing for her to call you.” she nodded.

Without even really thinking about it, Casey signed; ‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s fine, don’t worry,’ she signed back.

“Wait… you sign?” Casey jumped, scooting back and turning to face her.

‘Sometimes.’

“Do they know? Are you mute?”

‘No, sometimes I am mute.’

‘Yes.’ It was enthusiastic, as if she’d finally been understood.

“Do you want to talk, not out loud I mean, but-”

‘Where did you learn to sign?’ she asked.

‘My dad,’ he answered without thinking much about it. “And my uncles.”

“We used it for signals, mostly. I don’t know a lot more than the basics, just for like… when I need to be silent.” the girl nodded.

‘Where did you learn to sign?’ she shook her head. Right, of course she wouldn’t know that.

‘Sorry.’

‘I don’t belong here,’ she signed, looking a little sad.

“No, you don’t.”

‘Can you get me out of here?’

Casey took a breath. He wished he could break her out of here. But he couldn’t help her. If he did, he’d lose his cloaking charm. He couldn't let that happen.

‘I can’t.,’ he signed. He hated lying to her, but he had to figure himself out first. He needed his cloaking charm back, he needed himself back. Instead, he changed the subject.

‘What do you know about yourself?’

The turtle leaned back and scrunched her face together, as if trying desperately to remember something.

‘I love yellow. It’s my color.’

‘Life color?’

‘Yes.’

“Like your patterns?” Casey asked, looking at the yellow markings on her cheeks.

‘Like… sunshine. Call me Sunshine.’

“Sure! I like that. We could use some sunshine down here.” That made her smile.

'You have a family.' It was a question, inviting him to talk about his least favorite subject.

'I… I had a family,' he signed slowly. 'They are all gone now.'

'I'm sorry.'

'It's fine. I…'

Casey suddenly realized that he was having a conversation with someone completely unrelated to his future. The younger versions of his family weren't there.

'Could I… tell you about my dad?' he signed, nervously.

He committed to the ‘dad’ title. Spelling sensei wasn't worth it.

'I don't have anything to talk about,' Sunshine shrugged. 'Free real estate.'

Casey almost smiled. What was wrong with him?

'He passed away just recently,' Casey explained. How many days had it been? Somehow the days past had run together. Too many had passed. The knot in his stomach reminded him there would only be more to follow. He was constantly moving away from that moment at what felt like a breakneck speed. 'I didn't get to say goodbye.'

'What happened?'

Casey inched closer to the glass and put his forehead against the cool surface.

'He saved my life. We were under attack.'

Sunshine scooted up closer and he turned his head to watch her sign. He kept his cheek glued to the glass. He felt a little stupid doing it, but it kinda felt nice, too.

'I'm glad you are safe.'

'You and I are similar,' he noticed. 'No family. No home.'

'Then where do you go?'

'When I am not here I have a place to sleep. I go to school now, I guess. But where I am…' he took a deep breath. 'I don't belong.'

'Then we also have that in common.'

Casey forgot he wasn't trying to share things. He had deliberately left that out earlier.

'My dad wanted me here, but I sometimes wish I was back home.'

'But you said your family is gone? How could you go home?'

Casey had thought about this more than he cared to admit. There was nothing in the future for him. Sometimes he wondered if he could go back there just to be a part of that ending. Would he die? Most likely. But he could die anywhere, at any time. At least if he was there he would go to the same place his family was.

'I don't think I'll ever see them again,' he realized.

'Yeah, that's kind of what being dead means.'

Casey grimaced. He had been leaving her out of his thoughts too much.

'I'm sorry, I'm not making much sense.' he paused. He was also tired of explaining himself. 'I see them in my dreams sometimes… my family.'

'I don't have dreams anymore.'

'You mean you forget them? Most people do.'

'I'm not exactly sure. I remember what dreams are, but that's it.'

Casey nodded in understanding.

'Do you know what color you are?'

'I'm pink,' he signed, smiling shyly.

'How do you know?'

'How do you know you're yellow?'

Sunshine looked out the window. She looked frustrated.

'I just do.'

"My uncle told me mine a long time ago," Casey whispered, joining her gaze. "He said it represents love and family."

'Ironic.'

"You don't have to tell me," he pulled up his knees to his chest.

'What does yellow mean to you?'

"Do you know?" Casey asked curiously.

Sunshine shook her head. 'I just have a vibe.'

"Colors are 100% vibe-based," Casey confirmed. "If you're the same yellow as your arms, that represents stability."

Sunshine wheezed.

"Stability?" The first word she said out loud made Casey snap to attention.

"Uh, yeah. Like the sun always rising in the morning. Reliable, patient, eternal."

“It doesn’t sound much like me,” Sunshine huffed. ‘I don't feel very stable right now,’ she admitted, lowering her head.

"If it makes you feel better, some people think it's all pseudoscience anyway. The life colors, I mean."

Casey remembered Donatello saying something similar once. At one time he would have agreed with him, but after his run in with Angel today…

"At the end of the day, it's just you," he shrugged. "Even if it's just a vibe, I think it's helped me get to know you better."

Sunshine nodded.

"What will you do when I'm gone?" he asked her curiously. It had occurred to him that she hadn't answered his question earlier.

'Mama has me training.' Sunshine signed again. 'Running, fighting, there's two others I see and train with, but I'm Mama's favorite.”

'Others?' Sunshine nodded.

'They don't remember anything either.'

'Turtles?'

'No.' she paused and thought about it for a minute. 'A pig-like thing and a rhinoceros.'

'Your competition, then?'

Sunshine nodded.

'Mama wants me to beat them both at my debut or whatever. They are… much bigger than me.'

'Rhinos are pretty big.'

When Casey looked into her eyes, he could see she now looked very afraid.

'Sometimes I can't even walk. I forget how to move. I fall over all the time. I can't beat them.'

'Why do you fall over?'

Sunshine rolled forward to her hands and knees to get up in what was clearly a struggle. It was like watching a toddler try to stand. When she was upright, she used the glass for a moment to balance herself.

The struggle was all too familiar, and realization hit Casey like a toddler run over by a shopping cart.

She was just like him.

'”Give me your hand, Casey.”

Casey looked down at his three fingers.

“Don't look at your hand Casey, just look at me.”

Casey couldn't look away. This was impossible. His fingers moved in a way he didn't expect. He'd often thought the third finger would act like his ring and pinky fingers together, but instead it was as strong and independent as his middle finger. He still felt that connection to his ring and pinky finger in his head, but when he tried to 'move' them, nothing happened. Instead, he tapped his 'middle' finger to his thumb repeatedly; morbid curiosity and a lingering feeling of fright hanging over him.

“Are you going to sit there all day, bud?”

“It's weird,” was all Casey offered his sensei as the larger turtle sat down next to him.

Leonardo offered up his own hand, and Casey took it. They were the same now. Well, sensei's hands were much larger and calloused, but the point still remained.

“You have to get up and walk at some point, Casey.”

“Yeah,” Casey agreed, but it was so hard. Having a shell on his back completely threw off his balance.

“The more you do it, the easier it gets.”

Just like squats, or running, Casey thought. But he was back to square one. Sure the muscle was still there, but the memory was not.

Leonardo took Casey's other hand and gently pulled him off the bed. “Lean forward,” he instructed.

Casey grumbled but complied, keeping his weight forward, his head nearly bumping into Leonardo's plastron.

“Too far, Case,” the slider smiled.

He scowled up at his sensei, but that movement tipped him too far back, and he fell back onto the bed.

He heard his sensei suppress a chuckle.

“How do you do it?” Casey asked angrily.

“Just keep trying.”

So Sunshine was a mutant too. That was hardly surprising. Big Mama had probably erased her memory so she wouldn't try to escape. She might actually have a family out there looking for her. This was really bad.

But Casey couldn't tell her that. If she knew, she'd probably freak out like he did, and it took him ages to get used to his body again. She had two weeks. They needed to stay focused on the situation at hand.

"I see what you mean," Casey said as he watched Sunshine walk across the room. She was doing better than he had, for sure, but he noticed she swayed a bit sometimes, and she was all too focused on the walking to say or do anything else. Another reason why she didn't talk much.

"When I come back tomorrow, we should practice walking," Casey suggested, standing up and moving next to her. He tried to give her room, but he was ready to catch her if need be.

She stopped and looked at him with broken eyes.

'Humiliating,' she signed, wobbling.

Yeah, he knew the feeling.

When Casey was finally released, he actually felt a little lighter than when he came in. He felt almost confident. Sure, the others were going to have questions, but he actually had some people he could talk to that weren't… a living breathing reminder of everything that he had lost. Yippee.

“Are you sure you need this back turtley-boo? All those little rough edges make you look so pontiferably dangerous.”

“Yes.” Big Mama rolled her eyes and handed him back the black cloaking charm. He quickly re-tied it around his ankle, and in a moment, he was Casey again. He could breathe again.

“You can come by anytime as long as it is everyday,” Big Mama told him, also handing back his bag. “Don’t think of running away. I have a tracking enchantment on you. I know where you are, always.”

He had been wondering how she was going to keep track of him.

“I have a question for you, Mama,” he stated, standing back up.

“Yes dearie?”

“What have you done to Synth?”

“Why, nothing fidgetbun! Synth is too useful to me. He’s not going anywhere,” she sighed. “And I’m watching you both, so don’t get any more nasty ideas.”

That was a surprise. He didn’t think she’d want him around after all that she’d overheard.

“You don’t know the name of the game do you?” Big Mama gave him a calculating smile.

“I have an idea,” Casey clenched his fists. In a twisted way, they were depending on each other. “But I suppose you aren’t about to let him make swords for Leo.”

Big Mama giggled.

“I couldn’t care less what those idiots get up to. We’ll just have to see what happens.”

Doctor Feelings II

"So, what happened today, Mr. Jones?" asked Dr. Feelings, peeking over his fake reading glasses.

"Aren't I supposed to be the one on the couch?" Casey asked, his head between his hands, and his butt in Splinter's old recliner.

"You watch too many movies, Mr. Jones. I'm the doctor here, I will be asking the questions."

Mikey squinted. “I just did, what happened today?”

“Ok, ask away.”

“Oh. Well…” What didn’t happen today? “I tried out for field hockey.”

“Field hockey huh? And how was that, did you have fun?”

“Actually, I did. Everyone said I played pretty well, but there was this one girl…”

“A girl, huh? I know all about those.” Casey glanced over at Mikey and saw he was scribbling away on a notepad- no, his drawing pad. He was doodling.

“She said I was a shit forward.”

“But you’ve never played hockey before!”

“Yeah, but it still kinda hurt.”

“Did you tell her that?”

“Of course not!” Casey snapped defensively. That would probably only get Angel to tease him worse.

"Why not?"

Casey sat on his hands and didn't say anything.

"Is she cute?" Mikey asked, raising his brow.

"What?"

"The girl. Is she cute?"

“Of course she’s cute!” he blurted out without thinking about it.

The face Mikey made was so immediately excited and opportunistic that it made Casey regret talking to him in the first place.

“Are you going to ask her out?!” he asked, jumping up and down in his seat.

“What? No! Well, define ask out? We went to the library today-”

“You went on a study date?! Casey what the fuck it’s literally the first day of school!”

“Casey did what?!” Oh no. Oh no no no no no NO.

The last person he wanted to talk to about this poked his head out of their shared room.

“Casey went on a date?!” Leo asked, his smile so large and mischievous it made Casey want to scream.

“I did not!” Casey shouted, sounding all the more unconvincing.

“He did!” Mikey shouted back to Leo, only making the situation worse.

“What happened to client confidentiality!?” Casey argued, standing up and crossing his arms.

“I’m not licensed!” Mikey countered with a smile. “Do I get licensed in the future?”

“There aren’t licenses in the future!” Casey pointed out, fuming. Mikey seemed genuinely upset as he pouted, but Leo came in just in time to make things worse.

“Tell me all about your new girlfriend, Case,” he insisted, dropping himself onto the living room couch beside his brother.

“Absolutely not,” Casey scoffed. “And she’s not my girlfriend. We just went over history notes together.”

“But you like her. Does she like you?” Casey could not believe this was happening.

“You could ask her out to the Homecoming dance! It’s coming up,” Mikey offered.

“That’s literally two months away!” Casey pointed out.

“Well, you never know, someone else might have their eye on her,” Leo noted, pointing and raising his brow.

“We are done talking about this,” Casey asserted.

“You might be done talking about this,” Leo smirked. “But Splints is going to wanna have a sit down with you if you don’t tell us how your date went.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Casey whispered.

“Oh I dare,” Leo confirmed, lifting his feet up onto the couch and sprawling over Mikey. He pressed a middle finger gently to his temple. “I remember it like it was yesterday, the day Raph came home all excited with a crush on someone he had just bumped into in the Hidden City. Have you heard the story?”

“I could tell you yours if you want to,” Casey threatened.

“What?!” Leo suddenly lost his cool.

“If Splints has only given Raph the talk at this point, you guys are in for a world of pain,” Casey nodded.

“Even me?!” Mikey asked.

“Not as bad for you, Mikey,” Casey waved him off, looking down at the poor, helpless slider, and leaned down to get on his level.

“If you tell Master Splinter anything, I’ll let him know everything you get up to for the next twenty years.”

“How do you even know that?”

“Aside from your own over-dramatic monologues? Master Michelangelo told the best stories when he was wasted.”

Leo shot up from his position over his brother to give him a dangerous look. “You snitch!”

“I haven’t done anything!” Mikey yelped, popping into his shell reflexively. Leo jumped up to snatch at his brother, but Casey did it first, holding the boxed box turtle at arms length.

“Nuh uh uh!” he tutted. “I’m still having my session with him.”

“Well I think it’s probably my turn to take my feelings out on him,” Leo demanded.

“That’s not how therapy works!” Mikey squeaked from the safety of his shell.

“Let him go, Leo. You can have him when I’m done,” Casey compromised.

Finally the slider relented, but he sure did not look happy about it.

“We are going to have so many words, hermano,” he puffed, before retreating back to his room.

“SO MANY WORDS!”

Casey had a feeling it was going to be more than just words.

“Is he gone?” Mikey whispered, poking his head out.

“Yeah, he’s gone,” Casey sighed, setting the turtle back down.

“Why’d you rat- why’d you snitch on me like that?” Mikey grumbled. “I haven’t even said anything!”

“It was funny, I guess,” Casey shrugged.

“If you think I’m going to help you out after that you’re insane.”

“Well you’re safe as long as you’re still talking to me,” Casey reasoned, only faintly recognizing that he sounded a bit like Big Mama as he did so.

“Fine,” Mikey huffed, picking his drawing pad back up. “But this is the last session for a while. I don’t know if I can handle this.”

“If I’m being honest, I don’t think I can either. I just needed him to shut up.” Casey leaned back into Splinter’s chair. It was scratchy and uncomfortable, but for some reason it just felt welcoming.

“I hear that,” Mikey nodded. “So you went on a date with the girl from field hockey, but you don’t want to talk about it. Anything else happen at school?” Casey didn’t think he had anything to say, but saw Mikey scratch his temple and he remembered something.

“There’s also a guy on the team who recognized me from the invasion.”

“WHAT?!”

“He saw my hockey mask in my bag.”

“April told you not to bring that!”

“I know, I know, but I get nervous not having my equipment with me.”

“I keep my nunchucks in my bag too.”

“Why do you bring your nunchucks to school?"

“Nuh uh uh, Mr. Jones. We’re here to talk about you. Why do you get nervous not having your gear with you?”

Because Casey never felt safe. Not really. There was always something out to get him.

Casey shrugged. “This is entirely unfair.”

“I’ll be having this conversation with myself later, don’t worry. Why do you bring your hockey mask to school?”

“In case something bad happens.”

“Like what?” Mikey was peeking over his drawing pad again. Casey crossed his arms.

“I’m not here to judge that.”

“I don’t know, like the technodrome exploding into the sky again. I know that’s ridiculous-”

“But you think it is.”

“It’s a little ridiculous,” Mikey admitted.

“Every morning I wake up and-”

“You have a silly little oatmilk coffee,” Mikey interrupted.

“Are you here to listen or what?!” Mikey ducked behind the drawing pad.

“I wake up thinking I’m back there again. In the future, and I… I have to remind myself that no, everyone is dead and that part of my life is forever over.”

“Yeah, I’m really sorry I keep interrupting. That’s horrible,” Mikey apologized, looking down at the ground.

“Isn’t it? That guy I met today, Gavin, he helped me pull my hair back for practice and I jumped out of my skin because I couldn’t keep my eyes on him the whole time. Everything is a threat.”

“You let him help you though?”

“Yeah.”

“How was that?”

“That was nice. I think we could be friends.”

“That’s good. He was nice to you then?”

“Yeah.” Casey glanced over and tried to look at what Mikey was drawing, but Mikey shifted away.

“Back off Future Boy, these are the doctor’s notes. Doctors only.”

“You’re gonna grow hair one day," Casey told him suddenly.

“What?”

“You taught me how to tie my hair back, when I was little.”

Mikey looked like he couldn't decide whether to explode or melt into a puddle.

“That is soooooo cool,” he whispered. “When you’re born I’m going to be the cool uncle.”

“Am I even going to be born, though?”

“Why wouldn’t you be?”

Casey had thought about this before, probably too many times.

“There will probably be another Casey Junior, just… not me like you’re Master Michelangelo.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, Master Michelangelo is made up in part of your shared experiences with him. But a Casey born here will never have the same experiences I had.”

“And…. how does that make you feel?”

Casey dipped his chin into his chest.

“More lonely than ever before, I guess.”

“One of a kind,” Mikey noticed, in an attempt to cheer the boy up.

“Sure,” Casey shrugged. “Are we done here?”

“I mean, we’re done whenever you want to be…” Mikey glanced over to Leo and Casey’s room nervously.

“Cool, we’re done,” Casey sighed. “I want to go to bed.”

“Well… give me a head start before you go,” Mikey told him, putting the pad down and edging his way back towards the entrance to the lair.

“I’ll give you ten seconds.”

Mikey sprinted away faster than Casey could blink.

But it wouldn’t be faster than Leo could chase him.

"Hey, where ya goin’, Pink?"

"Angel? Did I forget something?" Casey turned around and saw his fellow sophomore running to catch up to him. She was still wearing her field hockey clothes, but she was carrying her cleats in hand. She was only wearing her socks?

"Uh, what? No. I just… I needed to talk to you," she said between breaths.

"Do you… wanna change your shoes first?"

The color from Angel’s face, despite its rosyness from practice, seemed to drain away entirely as she looked down at her feet.

"Oh, uh, yeah.” She flashed her teeth at him with a frustrated expression on her face. “Give me a second, would ya?" She unzipped her bag and pulled out her street shoes. She struggled to keep her balance as she tried to pull one of them on.

"You can sit down if you want to," Casey offered, tilting his head to one side.

"On the sidewalk? No thanks."

Casey sat down on the sidewalk next to her. "It's not so bad," he shrugged.

With a huff, Angel let herself fall next to him, bumping into his shoulder as she went down.

"Hey, watch it!"

"You watch it, Pink. You would be the kind of guy to just sit wherever.”

"What does that mean?" he asked, even though he couldn’t help but smile.

Angel didn't answer, she just kept tying her shoes.

"Does it have to do with my pinkness again?"

Angel gave him a glare.

"Let me guess, you're purple. Does that make us a pair?"

Angel blushed, and Casey cracked up laughing.

"Ugh, Pink fuck! What is wrong with you?"

“And Pink Fuck, what’s up with that? Couldn’t think of anything better?” he teased her.

“Well what should I call you, Jones? You’re a big mess of colors dancing all over the place.”

“How does that work anyway, seeing people’s colors?” he asked, curious.

“It just does,” she shrugged. “What’s it like not seeing people’s colors?” she shot back, making a face at him.

She was unbelievable.

Angel finished tying her shoes, and then stood back up.

"So, what did you want to tell me?" he asked, getting to his feet as well.

Angel dug around in her bag and pulled out a sheet of paper.

"It's our schedule… for the games. Congrats… uh… you made the team."

"Wait, really?" he answered in disbelief.

"Are you actually surprised?" She looked like he’d just asked her what color the sky was.

Casey raised his eyebrows. "I thought you said I was shit."

"I did," she tilted her chin up in a pout.

"So how did I make the team?"

"You're the only guy who tried out, dumbass!” she jammed the schedule to his chest.

"Oh, yeah, I guess so," he figured, taking the paper from her and looking at the print. It looked like they still had a couple weeks before their first game.

"But you do get to be a forward, so there is that," she sighed, re-zipping her bag and slinging it over her shoulder.

"Cool."

Casey tilted his head.

"Was that… everything you had to tell me?" he asked.

He couldn’t help but notice her blush again. It was kinda cute. "Where were you headed? I thought we were going back to the library again."

"We are, but you were taking forever so I thought I’d meet you there."

“You were gonna leave me?!” she huffed, adjusting her bag.

“I mean I was kind of hoping you’d see me and hurry up…” he kicked his boot on the pavement.

Angel gave him a look he hoped meant she was mad but willing to let him get away with it.

“Whatever, let’s just go,” she told him, passing him and bumping into his shoulder again as she went.

“Thanks for joining the team, by the way,” Angel said as they returned to the library. “I think Gavin told you already, but we hardly have enough people to actually play… what with all the…” she waved her hands around. She hoped he got the idea.

“The what?” Casey did not get the idea at all.

“You know, everyone skipping town because of the… what do you call them? The… not human students?” She felt her face going red. Again. (She had to stop doing that.) She never could seem to remember the word…

“Oh… the yokai. Yeah, I get it,” Casey finally nodded. “Uh, thanks for having me I guess?”

She scrunched up her nose. “Don’t you dare back out, okay? I’ll find you if you do.” She hoped that sounded threatening, and not like some kind of promise.

“And do what exactly?” Casey smiled good-naturedly. She didn’t like that he was smiling at all.

Angel raised her fists and waved them like she was going to box him. “There’s a good reason they let me on the men’s field hockey team. Go ask any of them!”

“I believe you!” Casey chuckled. This guy…

Angel wanted to go on, but they were quickly shushed by a librarian, so they slinked over to their table in awkward silence.

“I’ve been meaning to ask Angel, and… you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to but-”

“Wait, did Gavin tell you what’s going on?” She cut in before he could finish. She had seen that look on too many other people’s faces before. She really hoped he wasn’t going to…

“He mentioned one of your friends disappeared, yeah.”

Fuck.

“Not my friend,” she corrected. “My best friend,” she hugged her backpack close to her chest. “We’ve been friends since second grade.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Everyone says that.” Please shut up.

“Well…”

“It’s whatever,” Angel cut in again. “Nobody ever fucking knows what to say. Even if you did bring it up.” She squinted her eyes at him. For the love of god stop talking.

“You seem… kinda normal about it,” he couldn’t help but wonder. “Aren’t you worried?”

“Of course I’m worried!” she raised her voice. She heard someone from a table over shush her again, but she ignored them. “What do you care?” she pouted.

Casey bit his lip, and Angel wondered where he’d gotten the nerve to even bring this up.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

And then Angel saw it. As he apologized, she saw his colors shift. The neon pink faded to a light rose. She blinked in surprise. She hadn't seen that happen to anyone before.

Well, not anyone she knew. People usually only had one hue. Sometimes it fluctuated in brightness or in shade depending on their mood, but the actual color itself didn’t shift; their hue was tied to their personality. You can’t just change your personality.

That was something that had caught Angel’s attention when she had met Casey. Pink was a weird color to have. While technically most people would say it was a shade of red, she argued his hue was pinned right between red and her own red-violet. Magenta might be more accurate, but Pink Fuck was way funnier. Whatever the exact color was didn’t matter- it was the family it belonged to that bothered her.

Reds had an exceptionally passionate or aggressive personality, and she didn’t see it anywhere in him. If she were blind, she’d guess he was the polar opposite- cyan or seafoam green. He was unbelievably cool and easygoing, so much so that it didn’t make any sense to her. The image of a wolf in sheep’s clothing came to mind. At first she had been curious to find out if she could break the cool facade.

But now that his color had shifted further red (albeit up many shades lighter), the curiosity swung immediately to fear.

The unstable aura was as chaotic as those she saw on the people outside Marina's apartment.

It made her shiver.

"Hey, are you alright?" Casey asked. She looked away immediately, realizing she had just been staring right into his eyes.

"You really shouldn't have," she agreed with a mutter.

"I… yeah," Casey looked down at his hands pensively.

And why would he care? Why was he asking about her? Why was he so upfront about spending time with her? He had shown up ‘coincidentally’ just after Marina had disappeared. Angel stood up. She had to get out of here. Casey followed her with his eyes, but didn't make a move to stand.

"I'm sorry, I can't do this right now," she picked her bag up.

"No, I'm sorry," he apologized again, but also looked confused. At the very least, he didn't act like the strange people she had seen before.

But that didn't mean she could trust him. Something about him was incredibly wrong.

She felt terrible, but quickly made her exit without another word. He had been so nice to her, even when she was constantly picking on him. But it was also too nice. It almost felt like he was playing mind games with her. She wished she could forget seeing the hurt in his eyes before she walked away.

That would have made her exit a lot easier.

Kind

"Let me see your stance," Casey offered, and he helped Sunshine stand up. It felt like the world was shifting under her feet, but the small musk turtle managed to keep her balance.

She took her stance, practice sword in hand.

"Oh, you are waaaaay overcompensating," Casey realized, bending down to match her.

"You're too far forward, you need to stand up a bit straighter."

"That's what Synth said but-" Sunshine straightened up all the way, and started to fall back; just like Casey had done when he was younger.

"Ah!" Casey caught her and tipped her forward. "That's too far! It's like you're trying to stand like a human-" he cut himself off.

"A what?" Sunshine blinked at him.

"A human. Humans don't have shells, so they're center of gravity is different," Casey explained.

"What’s a human?"

Casey pressed his hands together and pursed his lips in thought.

"You don't know anything about anything outside of this nexus, do you?"

"I know… some things," Sunshine frowned. "Like, I know what sunshine is, even though there isn't any here. I don't know where it is, but it's warm and bright."

"It seems like parts of your lost memories can come through but others can't? Or haven't? You know ASL…”

Sunshine could see Casey looked very uncomfortable.

'I don't think we should be talking about this,' he signed.

'Why not?'

'We are being watched.'

'So?'

Casey shook his head.

'Don't trust Big Mama.'

Sunshine could figure that much.

'I will try and come up with a solution that will get your memories back. In the meantime, we need to stay quiet. Keep each other safe.'

'Get me out of here,' Sunshine pleaded.

'I will, I promise.' He sighed and turned to stand next to her. “Let’s focus on getting your balance right. You need to find that sweet spot between straight up and too far forward. Mimic me.”

Casey stood upright, but then shifted forward ever so slightly. Sunshine moved to follow him.

“This is uncomfortable,” she noticed, feeling the weight of her shell press into her lower back.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s going to feel weird for a while, but you’ll get used to it.”

“How am I supposed to walk like this?”

“Slowly at first,” Casey took a step forward, and Sunshine followed him. She swayed a little, but otherwise kept upright. “Let’s just practice this for a bit,” he suggested, turning and facing her.

“Ok,” Sunshine turned to mimic him but wobbled, and in an attempt to catch herself, bumped into his head. “Ah!”

Casey backed up and caught her arm.

“Or, we might be here for a while,” he chuckled as she righted herself. Sunshine gave him a scowl, but she was secretly grateful for his help. He was also way more patient than Synth was, and kinder than anyone else she had encountered here in the Nexus. She had started looking forward to seeing him everyday.

But she could tell he was keeping something from her, too. All of them were. Of course her doctor knew, he didn’t even try to pretend that, he just outright refused to talk to her about anything. Synth tried to play dumb, but he was also a bad liar; he often caught himself saying things to her he shouldn’t.

Like when he mentioned Casey's brother had visited. Sunshine had been complaining about her sword again when Synth snapped and told her off for being a whiny baby. (His words, not hers.) She had no respect for the weapon, just like that slider from before. He had been grumbling, and when Sunshine had asked what he was on about, he grumbled something about Casey's arrogant brother. Casey hadn't mentioned a brother- he had said all his family had died.

So while Casey was kind, he was also a liar.

Sunshine wondered how she could get him to talk. Not just because she was curious, but also because it seemed like something was haunting him. Ok, maybe the dead family had something to do with that….

Sunshine was making practice swings when the first question came to her:

"So you know how to fight, did you learn that from your dad?”

Casey, who had been standing by watching her, looked surprised by the question.

“My dad?”

“Uh, yes?” Casey’s cheeks flushed.

“Ah… well, I don’t always call him my dad you see. I was sort of using it as a shorthand…”

Sunshine gave Casey a frown. Oh boy, he was full of shit wasn’t he?

“Ok, I guess he was my dad,” Casey admitted, crossing his arms defensively. “I usually call him my sensei. It was… less confusing, I guess? Trust me, you don’t want me to get into it.”

“If it’s confusing… was he your brother’s sensei too?” Sunshine asked, confused.

Seeming just as confused, Casey looked at her like she’d just slapped him.

“Where are you getting this?” he asked cautiously, lowering his voice and inching towards her.

Sunshine shrugged. “Where am I getting what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, I’ve never mentioned having a brother to you.”

“But you do have one,” Sunshine smiled, narrowing her eyes.

“I have four,” he grumbled.

“You told me you didn’t have a family anymore,” Sunshine pointed out. “Do you wanna elaborate on that? Are you not on good terms with them…?”

“Synth told you about Leo didn’t he?” Casey realized.

“He told me your brother was arrogant.”

“That’s one word to describe him,” Casey sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

“How would you describe him?” Sunshine asked.

“Why are we talking about this?”

“Because…” Sunshine shouldered her sword and placed one hand on her hip. “... everyone is keeping shit from me. What else do you want to talk about with a girl who doesn’t remember jack shit?”

“Yeah but… Leo of all people…”

“You told me your family was dead!” Sunshine barked, losing her patience. “Everyone in this fucking place lies to me. Do I actually care about your brother? Probably not, but I thought you’d be different from the others at the very least. They’re keeping secrets from me; every. single. one of them. I have nothing to do but sit around here in this room and think all day. Think about nothing besides how much I don’t want to be here surrounded by a bunch of selfish and evil people!”

Casey leaned against the wall of the training room. He looked down at the floor for a moment, before facing her.

“I can’t tell you everything I know,” he explained, massaging his fingers. “But my brothers are part of the reason why I’m here. And as long as I am visiting you here, they can’t know what I’m doing. If you see them, you can’t approach them. Big Mama would be very much against it. If they notice you, turn the other way and don’t look back. They might even want to talk to you, chase you even, but you can’t let them know what we’re doing here.”

“Why is that?”

Casey’s expression went dark. “It will ruin them.”

“So what, you’re protecting them?” Casey nodded.

“What are they like?” Sunshine hoped she wasn’t pressing her luck, but to her surprise, Casey actually smiled. He rolled his eyes too, but he didn’t seem annoyed at the very least.

“Where would I even start?”

“We have plenty of time,” Sunshine reminded him, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Start with Leo, I guess.”

Casey sighed. “We’ll be here all night.”

Prev. Masterpost Next

Notes: Dialogue exchanged in sign language is written between 'apostrophes.' Scenes taking place in Casey's doomed future are written in italics.

#rottmnt #casey sas au #snapper and stinkpot #casey jones #rottmnt casey jr #rottmnt fanfiction #rise angel #rise mikey #rise leo #rottmnt au #future leonardo #bad future rottmnt #angel bridge

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hypocriticaltypwriter · 1 year

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sorry for asking 2 questions in one day but I NEED to info dump rq !!!

Batty keeps eating the oozsquitoes, so he keeps mutating, making him incredibly strong. And animalistic. So he goes rabid sometimes:).

I head canon that Karai and her siblings have a secret language of chirps, grunts and hiss’ they use to communicate.

Batty is a good singer, but cannot dance for his life. He will just shuffle awkwardly.

Although Batty would like to be romantic, he’s far too shy to actually do anything like cuddling and heaven forbid a kiss; but he’ll still make a card or two. And maybe some flowers. And maybe some cookies-

He’s a good artist, doing mostly doodles and bad portraits because he’s never been able to explore his talent/passion.

Patrick is incredibly flexible too, being able to catch, hold and even draw with his feet!

Patrick doesn’t use his wings that much so they’re often cramped.

During the winter, all the Hamatos take turns cuddling him and using him as a blanket. Even CJ (Casey Jr.) has gotten in on this trend. As much as Batty wants to complain, he likes to be hugged by everyone.

Patrick is a very mixed sleeper. He will either sprawl himself out (when he’s extremely comfortable or with someone he trusts), or will do the “put in a coffin” pose. But when he’s EXTREMELY comfortable he will do the bat-burrito wrap. (Usually, Karai is in the middle of the wrap.)

Batty is on the spectrum, so he finds it hard to express his emotions. He doesn’t know why he wants to flap his wings and hands around wildly when he sees something that makes him happy, but he doesn’t do it out fear. (Btw; this will be a plot point in a little one shot.)

Patrick is surprisingly good with kids, despite being cold on the outside, he has a real soft spot.

Patrick’s wings act like 2nd hands! But, they’re not useful for actual things.

I think Karai has a scar on her back from a Kraang attack (image below ⬇️)

Batty, at first, had a huge rip in his wing from being hurt by a Kraang, but Karai patched him up and now he can fly again!

Patrick used his wings to group hug up to 7 people, if we squish.

Patrick can speak 2 languages: English (fluid) and Brazilian (almost fluid). His mother used to speak Brazilian to him, and he gradually learned. unfortunately, he doesn’t have an accent.

I head canon Niccolo as nonverbal, using hand signs and churrs to communicate to his siblings. I also really like the dynamic of mute/nonverbal (nicolo) and the one person that understands them completely (jago).

Patrick, (when he finally learns that maybe stimming isn’t bad), gets whole body wiggles and puffs up.

Textures, but more specifically sounds, is something that really bothers Batty. Like, nails scraping against asphalt is just a big “UGH GET IT AWAY FROM ME” thing. He also gets really itchy when he’s uncomfortable, sleepy or upset.

Patrick’s hair is really unclean. He licks himself on a daily basis, but unfortunately he can’t reach the top of his head, so his hair is always gross. Also, he never really learned self care tactics or how to wash, so that was fun to learn:).

Tamsin basically adopted him immediately. Like, the full “This is my son now, if anything happens to him I’m going to kill everyone in this room and then myself.”

Patrick gets jealous easy! I know, I know, crazy! But, he just can’t help but let the thoughts get to him. (Watch out, Karai, there’s going to be a lot of overprotective snuggling.)

As much as Karai doesn’t see it, Batty thinks she’s absolutely beautiful. Almost always staring at her with adoring eyes. He often gets lost in daydreams and other places.

Once, Batty found a post card from Paris, and that’s all he would dream about for a week. Then Karai came a long and now Karai in Paris is all he could dream about.

Batty is about above average height, stand in around 5” 7’. His wing spans is almost 7 feet, though, only looking smaller because he folds them up very tight.

Batty has literally never eaten food before, like, ever. He’s never tasted anything besides mutant silverfish and leaves.

(Should probably mention for future reference; Batty comes from the Scavengers, a group that hard working tech to sell off to less fortunate people. So, when the resistance in the scavengers come together, Donnie was given a HUGE pile of working tech! iPhones, video cameras, old TVs, remotes and even a Nintendo Switch!)

OKAY FACTS OVER QUESTION TIME🪄

Does the Resistance have a garden? Because you mentioned about how Tamsin was cooking, and more specifically chopping, so that got me wondering.

Did Donnie replicate the Anti-Kraang formula? Because I saw that it’s an “organic-based shield” so I was thinking the blue stuff from the beginning of the movie, Donnie replicated and is continuing to make and give to people across the country.

Is there any fresh water, or do they have to travel to the Great Lakes/ocean to get it?

What Karai look like as a human? Or her brothers turtles?

Do they have working cellphones or do they use radios?

Does Karai have oldest daughter syndrome? I just feel like helping your mom out at such an early age would give Karai some kind of pressure to always watch after her siblings. (Not talking from experience, if that’s what you’re wondering.)

What’s the kids favorite tv show?

Do any of the kids like to draw?

Do they go on missions by themselves to prove that they’re not too young? (Feels like that’s a David thing to do.)

Has Mikey gone full “mystic meditation; dni unless emergency” or is he still part of the group?

Does Leo still blame himself? Do all of them blame themselves?

Anyway, sorry for info dumping, I just needed to tell you!!! And ask some questions since they were on my mind. Don’t forget to drink water and eat food. I will make you eat your veggies if I have too.

-Lord Freg💛💛

My my, you just love making me want to info dump about my AU and ocs and I love you so much for it 👀

AND NOW YOUVE GIVEN ME ACESS TO SO MUCH FLUFF AND ANGST STORIES/ART WITH BATTY??? YES PLEASE 🖐✊️🖐✊️

Had me giggling and kicking my feet with how much Batty likes Karai, my SOUL left my body/pos about the Paris thing

Also, Karai does have scars on her back from a Krang attack! (Hey that rhymes) She got them when she was super little though.

Now, to answer your questions!!

Does the Resistance have a garden? 🌱

Yes! Yes it does! It took a few years to find some way to grow any food I'm the conditions of the apocalypse, but Donnie and Mikey were the ones who were able to discover a way to nourish and keep soil +food alive!

Its also a big greenhouse that I'm trying to think wether is inside the base, or out somewhere, but it's a safer chance for it to be inside lol.

Fun fact: Mikey spends a lot of time in the greenhouse If he's not meditating or practicing his mystic abilities. Niccolo loves hanging out with his favorite uncle (dont tell Leo) in the greenhouse, which is where the boy has grown a huge liking for plants! He likes how he and his uncle can spend time without too much chatter or anything too over stimulating for him, it's just his pace.

Note: you're headcanon of Niccolo is 100% correct! The same goes for Maggie, who usually only communicates with chirps or churrs alike- except she doesnt know how to talk.

She has a hard time grasping how to speak, and just gets her little mind stressed put if she doesn't get it right, so she keeps to herself with different ways of communicating.

Did Donnie Replicate The Anti-Krang Formula? 🔋

As a matter of fact, yes he did! Well-kind of.

We know the movie, April steals some of the plant killing stuff, and in the original timeline, she probably showed it to someone, specifically Donnie.

I feel whilst trying, and failing to figure anything put for this sheild, Donnie is near ready to give up until April shows him something she's had on her for a while.

She carried the smallest- and I mean smallest vile of the blue substance, around her neck, she'd always had it just in case since that little of it could knock out Prime krang if she wanted it to.

So, with that to work off of, Donnie got to studying and crafting!

Is There Any Fresh Water? 💦

Sadly no, they do have to travel to get most of it, which is only a weekend trip that either Raph and Mikey go do, seeing they can carry tons of water supply back with them, but that doesn't make it any less tricky...

What Karai Look Like As A Human? Or Her Brothers Turtles? 🐢

I actually have a pic of Karai human! Still have to draw the brothers... But if imma be honest the boys would probabl all lookthe same 😅minus different colored markings.

Do They Have Working Cellphones? 🌐

Nope! All cellular towers and such were brought down by the krang. They do communicate via radios, Donnies tech wristbands, and like, you know those hologram things in StarWars? Kinda like that if they need to call someone.

Im also gonna answer the Kids Fav TV show question while we're here too.

Since there's no internet and such, they're reduced to either shows Donnie has saved on tapes, or VHS Splinter had kept over the years. (Thank Heavens he kept that old VHS player 🙏)

Their favorite shows range from like-3 episodes of Bluey to Black Cauldron on VHS LMAO.

Does Karai Have Oldest Daughter Syndrome?💝

Afraid so, it's obvious it was bound to happen when she was told help out her mom while Donnie was gone... And she may have taken that a bit too close to heart.

In fact, Tam or Don never pressured the 'Eldest Daughter' idea on Karai, her thinking she was supposed to be the oldest, supposed to be the one who handled all her siblings. Even when Donnie came home, she's just a bit ancy to help put in any way, feeling like she's useless if she doesn't.

Do Any Of The Kids Like To Draw? 🖋

Oh definetly! I think David and Niccolo enjoy it more than others since they can express themselves through it more.

Do They Go On Missions Themselves?🏕

When their older? Yes. At their age now? Absolutely not on Donnies watch. He watches them like a hawk if they decide to go rogue without him or any adult watching them.

They have gone with their dad or mom to like- visit other bases, or even go with their uncles for trading, water, or supply-but NEVER by themselves.

David has tried but he always gets caught... Same goes for Karai.

Has Mikey gone full “mystic meditation; dni unless emergency” 🤔

If this question takes place after Donnie has gone, yes. Rarely is he ever seen out of his room-only popping here and there to say hello and check in, but that's like-only once every two months.

Niccolo misses his uncle, and he cries a lot about it, so much so Tam has to find the boy leaning against his uncles door in tears, it breaks her heart.

Does Leo still blame himself? Do all of them blame themselves? 💔

Can you even call it a ROTTMNT AU if their isn't any Leo angst? Lol but seriously, yes, they allblame themselves for the invasion, Leo the most.

A lot of them blame themselves for many things during the apocalypse too, Donnie blames himself for Karais Krang injury, Mikey for a mission gone wrong, where he couldn't save a labor camp, Raph for feeling like he's falling the older brother role- a lot of angst coming yalls way.

And I think that's all of them! TYSM for the asks I loved exploring into some of my Future AU stuff! Especially the guys since I haven't done much to dig deeper in their characters :]

#rottmnt #cherry answers #rottmnt oc #rottmnt future #rottmn future au #rottmnt fan comic the new generation #rottmnt x oc #rise of the tmnt #ask

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atlafan · 3 years

Text

a/n: Hello! My lovely patrons said it was alright to post the first part of my new miniseries here. I hope you enjoy this because it’s a fun story. If you’d like to see what happens next, subscribe to my patreon!

Warnings: angst and fluff, misunderstandings, some smoking of weed (THIS IS A SLOW BURN)

Words: 9.9K

Summary: Harry is 25, and decides to go to graduate school. He's in a film studies program, and becomes a GA for Dr. Casey Robertson, who he assumes is a man. When he goes to Casey's office for their first meeting, he realizes that Dr. Robertson is a woman. The two get along great as the semester progresses, and Harry starts to form a little crush on Casey. There's just one problem...she's engaged.

Harry thought he’d have his life together by now. His whole life he was told if he went to college, he’d be guaranteed a good job and a lasting career. He soon learned, however, that things wouldn’t be that simple. All he wanted to do was watch movies, and review them. He tried making a YouTube channel where he’d review the films he watched, but the videos didn’t get many views, and the few comments he’d get were pretty lewd.

He was sick of working at a grocery store during the day, and a bar at night. He barely had the time to do the things he liked, and he just wasn’t happy. So, he did what any other depressed twenty-five-year-old would do: he applied to graduate school. It made his parents happy since it would give him a break from having to pay off his student loans, and help him find some direction. Harry was able to secure a decent enough GA position that would pay him enough that he wouldn’t need to worry about a job, and he was able to find an apartment with some other graduate students.

So, there he was, enrolled into a Film Studies program, and he’d be a GA for the Writing, Literature, and Publishing undergraduate program. He wouldn’t be teaching or anything, but he would be helping out with a lot of grading and course design. He’d need to have office hours available, and be willing to work with students that have questions.

His roommates were nice enough. Two of them were in biology programs, and another was in art and animation program. Everyone had their own room, and they all had to share a bathroom, but it was okay. They were all adults, and all agreed on chores and how to keep things clean. The four all went out for drinks the first weekend they all moved in to get to know each other better. Harry could really see himself being friends with these people.

He was a little nervous about being a GA. He had to do a good job this semester in order to keep his grant money. It had been a while since he had been in a classroom, so he wasn’t sure how he’d do juggling his own classes and schoolwork along with helping a professor grade for their various courses. Luckily, a good chunk of Harry’s classes would be online, and he only needed to go to one in-person lecture. He got an email from the admin of the Writing and Literature department about meeting with a Dr. Robertson a week before classes start. This was the professor he’d be working with.

He wasn’t given a ton of information on what he needed, so he put his laptop in his backpack, threw on a pair of jeans and a nice button up, and headed out the door. He rolled up his sleeves and the ends of his jeans since it was a little hot out. His glasses were on, and his hair was still a little wet from his shower, but other than that he was feeling pretty confident in his look. He wanted to make a good first impression since he’d be working with this professor all year and not just the fall semester. Harry wondered what type of office he’d be given. He was hoping it would at least have a window, but he’d be grateful for whatever private area he’d be given. He was essentially being given a place to write and he wasn’t going to take it for granted.

As he enters the building, he realizes he has no idea where he’s going. He finds the directory, and sees that Dr. Robertson’s office is up on the second floor. He makes his way up, and takes a deep breath before heading down the hall to their office. As he approaches, he sees a woman with wild, wavy hair up in a high ponytail wearing black, high waist leggings, a slightly cropped tank top and sports bra combo, and was mumbling to herself as she rummaged through her bookshelves.

“Um, excuse me…” Harry speaks up.

“Oh!” The woman jumps. She sets her book down and pushes her glasses back up her nose. “You must be Harry, please, come in.” She waves him in.

“Are you Dr. Robertson?”

“I am.” She nods and extends her hand out for him to shake. “Have a seat.” Harry sits down in one of the chairs across from her desk. “You look a little confused.”

“It just doesn’t look like you were, um, expecting anyone…”

“I know, my office is a total disaster. I’m normally okay with organized chaos, but right now it’s just straight up chaos.” She chuckles. She notices Harry’s eyes drift to her cleavage for a moment. “I didn’t dress up for this since I knew I’d be cleaning things up around here, I apologize.”

“No! Uh, no need. I…I’m sorry, I thought you were a man…”

“Casey is a woman’s name.” She blinks.

“It’s also a man’s.” Harry runs a hand through his hair.

“Is it going to be a problem that I’m a woman?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“No, of course not. I guess I was just picturing some older guy with a dark office and a bottle of whiskey in the corner that he sips on out of crystal.” He chuckles nervously.

“Ah, well, you know what they say about people who assume.” She smirks.

“I’m not making a very good first impression, am I.” It wasn’t a question.

“That depends.” She leans back in her chair.

“On?”

“What your favorite movie is.” She grins. “As long as it’s not The Wolf of Wallstreet you’ll be fine.”

“I mean, it’s not, but I don’t mind that movie. I thought Leo’s performance was good.” Harry shrugs.

“It definitely was, but I don’t think it needed to be three hours long, nor did I need full frontal of Margot Robbie’s vagina, but that’s besides the point. What’s your favorite movie?”

“This is going to sound cliché, but…it’s Citizen Kane.”

“Is that your favorite because it truly is, or is it your favorite because someone told you it should be?”

“No, it’s genuinely my favorite. I’m a big fan of Orson Welles, I think the film was extremely innovative at the time, it still is by today’s standards. And I love how it was blatant commentary on the harms of yellow journalism. It’s cool to think back on how much trouble Welles had with the distribution for it too.” Harry realizes how excited he’s getting, and clears his throat. “Sorry.”

“Never apologize for the things you’re passionate about.”

“What, uh, what’s your favorite movie?”

“The Wedding Singer.” She smiles.

“Isn’t that an Adam Sandler movie?”

“It sure is.” She says proudly. “Look, I can admit that some of his movies aren’t great. However, I’ve written a ton of academic pieces on The Wedding Singer.”

“Really?”

“Mhm, during a time of uncertainty with AIDS there was LGBTQ representation. The actor that played George ended up coming out as transgender, and lived out her days proudly as a woman. Not to mention that Adam Sandler doesn’t use being gay as a punchline, like, ever. There’re always people of color represented in his films as well. And on a personal note, as a Jewish woman, it was always nice seeing that his characters were Jewish. That type of representation was really important to me as a kid.”

“Wow, I guess I never really thought about that.”

“Well, that’s why I have a PhD and you’re going for your master’s.” She smirks. “Teasing.” She pulls some papers out of her desk. “Okay, so this fall I’m teaching Advanced Screenwriting, Analyzing Screen Media, and two sections of freshman Composition. I’ll need you physically there during the composition classes since those will be the ones I’m going to be having you grading the work for. I’m all for helping first year students learn the basics, but I just don’t have the strength to grade their papers this year. Plus, it’ll be good for you to learn how to properly grade an array of work.”

“All that sounds good…you won’t need help with your other classes?”

“Maybe next semester. I teach a scriptwriting class in the spring, along with some other writing courses. You’re going to be taking some pretty high-level stuff this semester, I don’t want you getting overwhelmed.”

“You know what classes I’m taking?”

“Of course I do. I’d be stupid not to look into the person I’m going to be working with. Even though I’m not your graduate advisor, I hope you know I’d be happy to help you with whatever you need. Are you coming right from undergrad, or did you take some time off?”

“It’s been a few years since I’ve been in school. I’m twenty-five.”

“Sometimes it’s good to take some time off, figure out what you want to focus on. What exactly are you hoping to get out of a graduate film program?”

“I want to write high-level film reviews. I was hoping to make a video series, but it’s really tough to build a base on YouTube. I got discouraged.”

“If you ever want me to watch what you have out there already, I’d be more than happy to.”

“Sure, that’d be great. So, uh, where will my office be?”

“Oh, honey, did you think you were getting your own office?” She can’t help but giggle. “We’re not in the science building, GA’s don’t get their own offices over here.”

“How will students meet with me if they have questions?”

“They won’t need to meet with you, you’re not teaching.”

“But I’ll be grading, what if a student wants to question me on a grade?”

“Then they can come to me.” She shrugs.

“Dr. Robertson, where am I supposed to get my own work done?”

“Mi oficina es tu oficina.” She smiles. “You can work in here any time you like. I actually have a key for you.” She opens a drawer and pulls out a key. “Here you go, don’t lose that.”

“What if you’re meeting with a student?”

“As you can see, we have a lovely lounge at the end of the hall, you can go there and set up shop if you need to. You’re a GA, Mr. Styles, pay your dues. Now, here are my syllabi, and you should have gotten an email stating that you’ve been given access to all my courses. There are rubrics for all of the assignments as well, as long as you follow those you should have no problem grading.”

“Alright.” Harry takes the different sheets of paper from her, catching sight of the ring on her finger. “Are you married?” He wasn’t quite sure why he asked, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Hm? Oh, no.” She laughs. “Just engaged.” She extends her hand to look down at her ring. “Been engaged for over a year, we can’t seem to decide on a date. My fiancé is a lawyer, and a highly sought after one at that.”

“Why not just pick a random day to go to a courthouse?”

“Well, we both have big families, and we don’t want to disappoint any of them.” She sighs. “It’s fine, we’ll figure it out at some point. Neither of us are really in a rush. We’ve been together five years, it’ll happen when it happens.” She studies Harry for a moment. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Have anyone special?”

“Oh!” Harry’s cheeks redden. “Um, no…nothing serious, anyways.”

“Maybe you’ll meet someone here. You should go to the GA meetings, meet others doing what you’re doing.”

“I’m living with three other GA’s, we’re getting along pretty well so far. But I’ll definitely check out when those meetings are.”

“Good.” She smiles.

“May I ask how old you are? You seem so accomplished, I mean…look at all of the degrees and certificates you have.” Harry motions to the various frames on the walls.

“Some of those are just recognition certificates. I’m twenty-eight. I did a 4+1 program to get my master’s so I could zip right along into a PhD program. I was lucky enough that I was hired on full-time after getting it. The department really values me.”

“That’s awesome.” Harry smiles. “Anything else you’d like me to know about your classes?”

“Not at the moment. Would you be comfortable giving me your cell number? Anything I can do to have less emails, you know?”

“I don’t mind.” Harry smiles again and takes out his phone, handing it to her.

“Thanks, it’ll be much easier to tell you if something changes last minute this way.” She texts herself before handing him back his phone.

“Your fiancé won’t mind you texting me?” Harry asks playfully, warming up to her a bit more.

“No, why would he? We’re not one of those couples who reads each other’s texts. My phone is my property just as his phone is his property. We trust each other.” She rests her elbows on her desk, putting even more of her cleavage on display for him without realizing it. “Besides that, I’m not trying to start an affair with my GA who should be very careful about flirting with me so that he doesn’t end up on some very thin ice.”

“I…I…I wasn’t-“

“You were being cheeky with me.” She crosses her arms over her chest as a smug smile sets on her lips. “I like to tease, Mr. Styles, you can relax your shoulders now.”

“I think it’s going to take me some time to get used to your sense of humor.” Harry says with a relaxed sigh.

“Well, you’re stuck with me for an entire year, so you’ve got plenty of time to figure me out. Now, if you don’t have any other questions, you can go on and enjoy the rest of your day.” She stands back up. “I need to continue organizing my books, and the rest of this mess.” Harry nods and stands up.

“It was nice to meet you. You know you can just call me Harry, right?”

“Sure.” She smiles. “I prefer to be called Dr. Robertson in the classroom, when we’re not in there you can just call me Casey.”

“Okay.” Harry smiles.

“Oh, wait! Are you free the day before classes start? I was hoping to take you to lunch as a sort of good luck thing.”

“I can definitely do lunch the day before classes start.”

As Harry walks back to his apartment, he can’t help but think about how cool Casey is. She’s a bit frazzled, yes, but she seems like someone Harry will be able to easily work with. At least he wouldn’t have to kiss the ass of some stuffy old professor. Casey’s ass is one Harry wouldn’t mind kissing, but she had a fiancé to take care of that for her. He had to admit, Casey was insanely attractive, but he’d politely just admire her from afar and respect that she was very much a taken woman. Besides that, it would be incredibly inappropriate to even try to start something up with the professor he was GA’ing for. No, he’d keep things professional. He wasn’t even looking for someone to be with right now anyways. If he felt the need to hook up with someone, he could either head down to the bars or download Tinder.

“Alright, if we could settle down and get started!” Casey shouts over the buzz of students talking in her first section of composition. “My name is Dr. Robertson, and that is what I’d prefer to be called. My pronouns are she/her. I encourage you all to be vocal about how you’d like to be addressed just the same. This is Mr. Styles, you may call him Harry. He’s going to be grading all of your work this semester, so you can send any and all excuses his way.” Casey grins and sits down on top of the desk at the front of the room. “Now, I’d like us all to go around the room and say your name, where you’re from, and what TV show you binged over the summer. I know for me, I rewatched Boy Meets World for the millionth time, and it was still just as good.”

Harry was impressed. Most of the time students hated ice breakers, but this was a pretty engaging one. Once the class of twenty-five is through, Casey goes over their course page in Canvas and the syllabus.

“Now, this specific course of composition has a topic, so we’re going to be writing about television this semester. If you don’t think you can write about that, then you may want to find another section of composition to take. I will say, we’re going to have a lot of fun in this class. We’re going to watch some interesting shows, and you may find that you’re ‘to watch’ list will have grown exponentially by the end of the semester.”

Casey asks if anyone has any questions, and a few do which causes some lively class discussion for the remainder of the period. She lets them go about fifteen minutes early. Harry walks over to her as she unplugs her laptop from the monitor on the lectern.

“Seems like the majority of them are going to enjoy the content for this class.” Harry tells her, but all she does is hum her response as she looks down at her phone. She sighs heavily before putting her phone in her pocket. “Everything okay?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Just figuring out what Daniel and I are going to have for dinner, nothing serious.” She waves him off as she slings her bag over her shoulder. “How are your classes going so far?” She asks as they walk out of the room and head towards her office.

“Pretty good, I don’t think anything is going to be too difficult for me. I have to watch a lot of movies, but I was expecting that.” Harry shrugs.

Once they’re in her office, Casey sits down at her desk, and Harry makes himself comfortable on her couch. This is the routine they had started since she took him for lunch a few days ago. They worked in a comfortable silence together, occasionally taking breaks to chat. Casey was happy she got assigned a GA that knew the difference between work and play. Her cell phone ends up ringing about five different times. By the fifth time Harry heard the buzzing, he couldn’t help but speak up.

“If you need to take that I can step out.” Harry says.

“No, it’s fine.” Casey sighs. “It’s just Daniel being Daniel.”

“What do you mean?”

“His time is more valuable than mine.” She rolls her eyes. “He knows I’m working.”

“What if it’s an emergency?”

“It’s not.”

“Casey, he’s called you five times-“

“It’s not an emergency, now mind your business.” She snaps and stands up with her phone in her hand. “I’ll be back shortly.”

Casey didn’t share too much personal stuff with Harry about her fiancé. When they had lunch together, she told Harry his name is Daniel, and she explained the type of law he practiced, but not much more than that. She didn’t get into how they met, or how he proposed. She didn’t even seem to be excited while talking about him like she did when she and Harry first met. Casey returns about ten minutes later, and sits back down in her chair.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped.” Harry says softly.

“You didn’t.” She sighs. “I snapped at you for no good reason, I apologize.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Mhm.” She says without looking at him, and going into her email on her computer.

Harry furrows his brows as he looks at her, but gets back to what he was doing. If she didn’t want to talk about it then he wasn’t going to push her. Harry notices her resting her chin on her fist as she looks at the picture of her and Daniel that she had on her desk. She sighs heavily and shakes her head, returning to her emails.

“I have my lecture in a bit, so I’m gonna head out.” Harry says, putting his backpack on.

“Alright, have a good class.” She gives him a soft smile. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” He smiles back. “See you tomorrow.”

Harry’s lecture was long and boring. It was a class all about black and white films, and the beginning of cinema up through the 1950’s. It would be a class full of dense reading materials and learning about theorists that Harry had only briefly learned about previously in undergrad. Normally this would be a class Harry would be really interested in, but the professor had to be at least 70, and he was quite monotone.

When he gets home to his apartment, he grabs a Bud Light out of the fridge, twists the cap off the top, then settles onto the couch. His roommates were all still in class and would be meeting up for pizza in a bit, so Harry had about an hour to himself before he was to go downtown to meet up for dinner. He takes his phone out and scrolls through his various notifications. Halfway through his beer he decides to text Casey.

Harry: any thoughts on Dr. Jensen?

Casey: oh god don’t tell me he’s teaching your lecture course…

Harry: yeah…so is he going to stay boring all semester?

Casey: that dinosaur should have retired years ago, I’m so sorry you have to have a class with him. Is it the early cinema through the 1950’s class?

Harry: that’s the one! The content is interesting enough, but I was on the verge of falling asleep the whole time, idk how I’m gonna survive an entire semester with the guy. Any tips on how to survive his course?

Casey: def make sure you keep up with the homework. He’s one of those jerks that’s been using the same syllabus for the last 20 yrs, so he doesn’t update his exams. I’d also recommend getting a recorder for his lectures, keeping up with notes is basically impossible during class, but if you can go back and listen he actually makes a lot of good points

Harry: you’re a lifesaver, thank you!! 😊

Casey: any time! I actually like a lot of the movies he has on his syllabus, so if you ever want a movie buddy just let me know!

Casey: I’ve got that couch in my office literally so I can comfortably watch movies

A sigh leaves Harry’s mouth when he sees that she rushed to make it known watching movies would only be an on-campus thing. Would it be so weird if she came to his apartment for a movie night?

Harry: that sounds great, I actually have to watch The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari by the end of the week. I’m sure you’ve seen it a million times though…

Casey: I have, but it’s one of my favorites so I won’t mind watching it again

Harry: really??

Casey: yeah! I love German Gothic films, I took a class solely on them in grad school, I can’t get enough. The makeup, the sharp edges, the harsh shadows, it was all just so interesting

He sees the time on his phone and realizes he needs to head downtown to meet up with his roommates. Harry wasn’t one for using his phone while eating with friends, so much to his dismay he has to end the conversation.

Harry: learn something new about you every day! I have to get going, meeting up for pizza with friends. Did you figure out what you and Daniel are having for dinner?

Casey: pasta…have fun with your friends!

Harry: a classic choice, I love pasta

He almost wished he hadn’t sent that last text. She didn’t respond to it. Harry groans at himself, and picks himself up to head outside. He couldn’t wait to stuff his face with some greasy pizza, drink some more beer, and just unwind with his new friends. It was nice being back in school and feeling like your responsibilities could be put on the back burner for a bit. Schoolwork was a less anxiety inducing thing to focus on, as opposed to what the fuck Harry was going to do with his life. Casey would be a great mentor for him. She was essentially doing what he thinks he’d like to be doing. He had an entire year to pick her brain, and he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. With any luck he’d be her GA again next year, but he didn’t want to get too far ahead of himself.

Casey and Harry were getting along famously. It was nearly October, and they were already in perfect sync. She was beyond grateful for him and his speedy grading. He was a fast reader, and she was not, so having him grade all of those papers and forum posts for her composition courses freed her up to focus on the work in her other classes. Harry tried his best not to bring up Daniel. Any time he did, Casey seemed to shut down. He’d only ask because he wanted to make sure Daniel wasn’t doing anything abusive to Casey. She never came in with a scratch on her, but Daniel could easily be doing something mental. Daniel never showed up to Casey’s office. If Harry were engaged to Casey, he’d want to visit her all he could, but maybe Casey didn’t like being visited since she always had something to do.

“Hey, Casey, what’s this faculty Halloween party about?” Harry asks her one Thursday afternoon. “I got an e-vite for it.”

“Oh! I forgot they put you on the faculty email list. You should go, it’s a lot of fun. It’s a great way for all of us to get together outside of the monthly faculty meetings. Everyone dresses up, it’s at one of the bars downtown. We get two drink tickets, and the rest you buy yourself.”

“Do other GA’s go?”

“Sometimes.” Casey nods. “It would be a good way for you to meet some of the other GA’s, and other faculty members. You can never have too many of us in your corner.”

“That’s true. What do you think I should dress up as? Like, how all out do people go?”

“Definitely keep it classy, appropriate, but don’t be afraid to have fun. Daniel and I usually do a couple’s costume. We have so much fun going to the store every year and figuring out what we want to do. It works out great cause his law firm has a costume party every year too.” She smiles. “We’re headed to the fabric store this weekend actually to start thinking of ideas.”

“Oh, that’s good. Um, what have you gone as in the past?”

“I’ll show you!” Casey grabs her phone, and wheels herself closer to Harry so he can see. “Last year we went as Bob and Linda from Bob’s Burgers, the year before that we went as vampires, and the year before that we went as Cosmo and Wanda from The Fairly Oddparents.”

“Aw, you guys looks so happy.”

“Yeah.” Casey swallows and locks her phone, wheeling back over to her desk. “Can’t wait to see what we come up with this year.” She mutters as she gets back to her work.

“I’ll have to really think about it. I haven’t dressed up for Halloween in forever.”

“Your friends didn’t have parties?”

“They did, but I was usually working. The bar I worked at had costume contests and stuff, so we were always busy. I’d get too hot from running around to dress up as anything.”

“Oh, that makes sense. Hmm…” She taps her chin as she thinks. “You could go as, like, a baseball player or something.”

“You’re just saying that because you want to see me in a pair of those tight pants.” Harry smirks.

“I see you in tight pants every day, it wouldn’t be anything new.” She says smugly before turning away from him.

“I do not wear tight pants every day.” Harry scoffs. “They may be tight in certain places, but it’s not like I’m walking around in skinny jeans.”

“True.” She side eyes him. “Maybe you could go as a Jonas Brother, all of them wear tight pants, or they used to.”

“I don’t think anyone at that party would get the reference.” Harry rolls his eyes.

“Well, don’t say I didn’t help you think of anything.” She shrugs.

Harry chuckles softly as he gets back to grading papers. He loved when Casey would tease him. He had grown a lot more comfortable with her sense of humor, and they would often end up in hysterics from their banter.

“Casey.” A tall man with salt and pepper hair wearing an expensive looking suit stands in the doorway. He was holding a small bouquet of flowers, and his eyes looked tired. “Baby, can I take you to lunch?”

“Daniel, I’m working.” Casey stands up. “Harry, this is my fiancé, Daniel. Daniel, this is my GA, Harry.”

“Hi, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Daniel says to Harry, then turns his attention back to Casey. “Please, you didn’t pack a lunch this morning. Let me take you out.”

Casey sighs, and ushers Daniel out into the hallway.

“You can’t just show up like this.” She says quietly.

“I’m really trying here, Honey.”

“I only have an hour, so we need to go somewhere quick.”

“That’s fine, uh, I got these for you. Know how much you like tulips.”

“These aren’t even season.” She smiles as she takes the flowers from him. “Thank you, Sweetheart, let me just go grab my jacket.” Casey goes back into her office and grabs her things. “Harry, I’ll be back in a little while.”

“Okay, I’ll probably be in class by the time you get back.”

“Alright.” She nods, and zips up her jacket.

“Do you want me to put those in some water for you?” He asks, nodding towards the flowers.

“Huh? Oh, no, that’s alright. They won’t last more than a few days as it is. It’s not worth it.”

Harry had ended up putting together a Clark Kent costume by wearing a light-wash pair of jeans, some converse, a Superman tee shirt with a jacket over it half zipped, and his glasses. He styled his hair to give the front an extra curl. The faculty would definitely be able to see the effort, but it also didn’t look like Harry was trying too hard. He heads downtown to the bar with his roommates, as they were all invited too. They all decided to be super heroes in disguise, so they made sure to take a ton of pictures before going to the party. Harry’s jaw nearly hits the floor when he spots Casey wearing a Morticia Addams costume. Even though Casey wasn’t showing much skin, her off the shoulder dress was leaving little to the imagination.

“Excuse me.” Harry says to his friends before making his way over to Casey. “Hi.”

“Harry!” She beams. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Me too, uh, what do you think of my costume?”

“I love it! Very cute and creative.” She smiles. “No one ever really thinks about dressing as the secret identity.”

“Casey, don’t you look lovely!” Dr. Lind says to her. “Where’s your Gomez?”

“Oh, uh, Daniel’s busy working a case. He couldn’t get away and I told him not to worry about it.” Casey explains.

“Aw, that’s too bad. It’s been ages since we’ve seen him. Have you two picked a date yet?”

“No, not yet. We both have had a lot going on, and we can’t seem to agree on the best time to do it. I’m sure we’ll figure it out soon.”

“You two should just elope, get it done at a courthouse and then have a big party for your families. I mean, the point of being engaged is not to stay engaged.”

“It’s only been a little over a year.” Casey mutters.

“I know, Dear, but you-“

“You know what’s great about being in a monogamous relationship? What happens between Daniel and I is between Daniel and I, none of this really concerns you, Nancy. I appreciate your input, but it’s not needed, excuse me.” Casey has to bite back tears as she walks away.

“My goodness, I didn’t mean to upset her.” Dr. Lind says to Harry.

“I’ll go see if she’s alright.” Harry finds Casey getting a new drink from the bar. He pulls her to the side to have a private word. “Dr. Lind always oversteps, she had no right to speak about what you should be doing.”

“I know that.” Casey says, looking away.

“Did Daniel really have to work late tonight?”

“No.”

“What happened?”

“Harry, I don’t want to talk about it.” She says before sipping on her drink. “I just want to have a good time tonight and not think about it, alright?”

“I can respect that, but I don’t think drinking your problems away is a great idea.”

“Harry, no offense, but I don’t need your opinion on this.” She brushes by him and goes to speak with some of her other friends.

A few hours pass, and it was starting to get a little stuffy in the bar, so Harry heads out for some fresh air. He sees Casey outside with a cigarette between her fingers. As he gets closer, he realizes it’s not a cigarette.

“Casey, are you smoking weed?” Harry asks her.

“It’s medicinal.” She mutters, blowing smoke in the opposite direction as to not hit him in the face with it. “It’s for my anxiety.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to take an edible?”

“Not when I need it to work right away.”

“Did you drive yourself here tonight?”

“I did, but I can just take an uber home.” She shrugs. “I came out for some air.”

“So did I.” Harry rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not trying to pry into your life, but things won’t get better if you keep shit bottled up.”

“I just prefer to keep my private life private.”

“Believe me, I get that, but…god, I wish you’d just talk to me, I’m your friend.”

“Daniel and I had an argument earlier and I told him not to come with me because I didn’t want to pretend like everything was fine. I couldn’t stand in that bar around my friends and colleagues pretending like everything’s fine with him when it’s not. We’re far from fine, and we have been for a while.”

“Did something happen?”

“The morning before the day I first took you out to lunch he told me he was up for a promotion at the firm…partner.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

“It would have been if it didn’t involve us having to move to New York. He took the bar exam out there without telling me, and he passed. They want him out there to work on larger cases, as a defense attorney. I wouldn’t have been opposed to moving, but he just assumed that I would. He said I could teach anywhere with no regard with how I’d feel about leaving this institution, our friends, and family behind. And then he told me it wouldn’t even matter because he’d be making enough money for me to never have to work another day in my life and that I could just stay home taking care of our future children.”

“That’s a bit old fashioned.”

“It is, which was shocking to me because he’s never acted that way towards me. He’s always been so modern, so progressive. I think he was given advice from the wrong people. Anyways, he took the job in New York because he basically had to, he would have been stupid not to take it, so we’ve only been seeing each other on weekends. And when we do see each other, we just end up fighting…we don’t even sleep in the same room.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know what we’re doing anymore.” Her voice cracks, but she swallows her tears down. She spent too long on her makeup to ruin it from crying. “We’ve grown apart, it’s as simple as that, but neither of us have the courage to end it. I love him so much, but lately…lately I’ve been feeling like love just isn’t enough.” She looks up at Harry who had been nice enough to stand out in the cold with her to listen to all of her woes.

“I’m so sorry.” It’s all he can think to say. “You should be home with him…trying to work it out.”

“I couldn’t get out of the house fast enough today. I told him to just go back to New York. He’s got a whole new life out there. I’ve been to his apartment a few times, and I didn’t feel like I fit in at all. I don’t even know why he still wants me, he could easily find someone new out there.”

“How could he not want you?” Harry steps a little closer to her. “You’re smart, funny, and…you’re a knockout. If I were him and I saw you about to leave the house looking like this, well…I wouldn’t have let you leave the house.”

“Why, so you could tell me to change into something less form fitting?” She scoffs as she crosses her arms over her chest. Her blunt all but forgotten.

“I would have asked you to take the dress off, that’s for certain. As far getting something back on…” Harry takes another step closer to Casey, making her cheeks feel warm.

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not Daniel.”

“I didn’t have much to drink tonight. Let me drive you home, and I’ll take the uber back to my apartment. That way you don’t have to worry about coming back for your car tomorrow.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not, I’m making a suggestion.”

“Okay, yeah, if you don’t mind. I only live, like, fifteen minutes from here. We, uh, rent a townhome.”

Casey hands Harry her keys, and they make their way around the building to the parking lot. The drive is quiet. Casey could feel her eyes starting to droop. Harry had the heat cranked since it had gotten chilly. He watches the map on the navigation screen to make sure he makes the right turns to her house. He pulls into her driveway, and orders his uber.

“Thank you for driving.” Casey says.

“Any time.” Harry smiles and gets out of the car. He jogs around to the other side to open her door, and walks her up her front steps. “You gonna be okay?” He rubs his hands up and down her arms to keep her warm.

“Yeah.” She smiles softly up at him. “Harry, I-“ The front door opens with Daniel standing there.

“Casey, thank god, Baby, I’m so sorry.” He wraps his arms around her, kissing her without acknowledging Harry. “No argument is worth you leaving angry like that for.” He kisses her again.

“Daniel.” She pushes him off of her. “Harry’s here, he drove me home.”

“Oh! Sorry about that.” Daniel says. “Thanks for driving her, man.”

“No problem.” Harry’s uber pulls up in front of the house. “That’s my ride, uh, have a nice night.”

Harry’s gaze lingers on Casey for a moment before making his way to the car. Daniel leads Casey inside the house.

“Did you have a good time?” Daniel asks her as they both walk into the kitchen.

“I guess.” She shrugs. “Would have been more fun if my Gomez had been there with me.” She pouts at him.

“You told me you didn’t want me there.”

“I also told you to go back to New York, so clearly your listening skills are selective.”

“I was so mad at you that I actually almost left, but I couldn’t make it out of the driveway.” He comes over to her, caressing her cheek. “Casey, I want to figure all of this out with you. I don’t want to fight anymore, and I’m sick of sleeping alone.”

“I feel the same way. Let me take all of this off and put on some pj’s, and then we can talk.”

“Okay.” He smiles. “Want me to make you some tea?”

“That’d be great, thank you.”

Casey: I’m not able to come in today, I’m not feeling great…do you think you could handle my classes today? You can have comp peer edit their papers, and my other classes can just watch a movie

Harry: sure! Is there anything else you need?

Casey: just some rest, thanks for understanding

Harry had wondered for the rest of the weekend how things went between Casey and Daniel. Maybe he hung around and they were going to spend Monday together. All in all, he hoped Casey was okay. Her Monday classes were sad not to see their beloved Dr. Robertson, but many of the girls in class had no problem with Harry taking over for the day.

As a lark, Harry picked up some pepto bismol and other things that might make someone sick feel better. He pulls up to Casey’s house, and sighs with relief when he doesn’t see Daniel’s car. He rings the doorbell, and waits for Casey to open door.

“H-Harry?” She says as she opens the door. She had on an oversized, quarter-zip fleece and a pair of joggers. Her hair was in a loose, low ponytail with some strands left out in front. Her eyes were red and puffy, as was her nose.

“Hey, I…I brought you some pepto and some other stuff that might make you feel better. I didn’t know if you caught a cold or…are you okay?”

“Oh, Harry!” She wails, and throws her body into his, crying into his chest. Harry wraps his arms around her and moves them both further into the house, closing the door. “I’m not sick.” She sniffles as she looks up at him. “I’m…heartbroken.”

“What happened?”

“Daniel and I broke up.” Her voice cracks, and she shoves her face back into his chest. He holds her close and rubs her back. “We stayed up all night on Saturday talking.” She hiccups, stepping back from him and leading him into her living room. “We watched the sun come up in tears.” They both sit down on her sofa. There was a somewhat tattered blanket that she snatches, hugging it to her chest. “We just couldn’t come to a compromise that worked well enough for the both of us.” She pauses for a moment, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “We didn’t yell or argue, we just talked everything out. He agreed that we grew apart and that we still loved each other very much. He was feeling defeated because he felt like he was the only one trying. I knew I stopped trying because I just didn’t have the strength anymore. He’s coming back next weekend to pack up the rest of his things. After we got some sleep on Sunday we went out to get him some boxes, and he packed as much as he could into his car. Five years over and done with just like that.”

“Casey, I’m so sorry.”

“I just needed today to, like, rest and regroup, but I just spent it crying…mourning the loss of my relationship.”

“That sounds like a pretty healthy way to deal with it.”

“Every time I tried to sleep, I just cried. I haven’t eaten all day, I’ve just been in here…wallowing.” She laughs coldly at herself.

“Let me make you something to eat. Do you have food in the kitchen?”

“Harry, you don’t have to. I know you have homework to do.” She frowns.

“My bag’s in the car. I can make you some dinner, and I can work on my assignments. I can even put on one of the movies I need to watch.”

“You really don’t have to babysit me. I’m a grown woman, I can take care of myself.”

“Casey, I want to help. Why don’t you go take a shower or something? I’m sure I’ll be able to find my way around your kitchen. I can just whip up some pasta.”

“You’re very kind, thank you.” She sniffles. “A shower sounds nice, I’ll go do that.”

By the time Casey gets downstairs, all cozy in a fresh fleece and pair of sweatpants, Harry had finished making some ziti mixed with some peas. He seasoned it with some parmesan cheese, pepper, and adobo.

“Hey.” He smiles when he sees her.

“Smells good in here.” She smiles back, hopping up onto one of the stools at her kitchen island. Harry puts a bowl of food in front of her before sitting down next to her. “Thank you.”

“Stop thanking me, would you?”

“I can’t help it.” Her bottom lip quivers as she takes a bite of food. “This is just so nice of you.” She sniffles.

“Casey, come on.” Harry chuckles and cradles her cheeks to thumb her tears away. “Can’t have you crying into your dinner.” He pouts cutely at her making her giggle before letting her go.

Harry eats while getting some work done, typing away at his computer. Casey eats her dinner slowly, not wanting to overwhelm her empty stomach. She also got her period earlier in the day, so she knew her tears had to have been in overdrive because of that. She finishes her food with a sigh and sets her fork down.

“All done?” Harry asks softly.

“Mhm, I can clean up.”

“No, let me-“

“Harry, I’m not helpless, please.” She hops off her stool and takes both of their bowls and put them in the dishwasher. “Did you figure out which movie you need to watch for class?”

“I have a choice between Some Like it Hot and The Apartment.”

“God, I can’t stand The Apartment.” Casey groans. “Let’s watch Some Like it Hot, it’s way more entertaining. I actually have it on DVD.”

“Oh, perfect.” Harry follows Casey into her living room, and he sits down as she sets the movie up. “I’ve never seen this one before.”

“Really? You’ll love it, it’s a classic. Marilyn Monroe is in it, and she’s just wonderful.” Casey sits down and hits play on the remote. “Can I get you anything? Water?”

“I’m all set, thank you.” Harry smiles, sitting back into the couch, making himself more comfortable. “You feeling a little better now that you’ve eaten?”

“Yeah, I-“ Casey’s phone starts ringing, and she sees that it’s Daniel. “I’m sorry, I need to take this.” Casey gets up quickly, and makes her way upstairs. “Hi…”

“Hi.”

“You don’t sound great.” Casey says softly.

“Been crying all day.”

“Me too.” She sighs.

“Are we sure we’re doing the right thing? If it hurts this much, shouldn’t we try to find a way to make this work?”

“Daniel, we went round in circles all weekend. You’re staying in New York, and I’m staying here. I don’t want you sacrificing your career for me. We’re not the same people we were five years ago…we’re both different now. I…I don’t want to wait for things to get started anymore.”

“So, you’d rather start over with someone new than just wait a little longer to get married to someone you know and love?”

“I want to marry someone who doesn’t lie to me about a promotion! You didn’t even talk to me before you accepted. It was like I didn’t even matter in your life, Daniel, don’t you understand that?”

“I know it was wrong of me to do that, I just thought you’d be on board…”

“Well, you thought wrong.”

“Apparently so.” There’s a beat of silence between them. “I’ll be coming back late on Friday. I should be able to pack everything else up during the weekend.”

“Okay, do you want me to stay with Lola? Like, do you not want me here?”

“I’m not going to kick you out of your own home, Casey. Besides, I’ll need you there so we can properly divide things up.”

“Right, yeah…”

“And we didn’t exactly get to have a, uh, proper goodbye.”

“Daniel.” Casey giggles. “I don’t think doing it one last time would be a good idea.”

“I’m not saying we need to plan it out, but if it happens…”

“We’ll see. I really am sorry we couldn’t compromise on things.”

“Me too. Well, I’ll let you go now. Sleep well.”

“You too.” Casey sighs as she hangs up, and makes her way downstairs. “Hey, Harry, if it’s all the same, I think I’m gonna just go to bed, but you can borrow the DVD if you want.”

“Oh! Okay.” Harry pauses the movie and stands up. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just hormonal and tired. I’m ready to just crawl into bed and get cozy. I want to have a fresh start tomorrow.”

“Right, makes sense.” Harry gathers his things, and Casey walks him to the door.

“I can’t thank you enough for coming by.”

“All I did was make a little dinner.” Harry shrugs.

“It was more than that and you know it.” She pokes his chest playfully. “You’re a great friend.” She opens her arms up for him, and he gladly accepts her hug. He holds her close to him, maybe for a beat too long, but he likes the way she feels pressed up against him. Harry was also known for not being the first person to end a hug. Casey’s arms start to loosen around him, and he looks down at her. Her eyes widen when she sees Harry start to lean in. “Woah, what are you doing?” She steps back from him.

“N-nothing.” His face flushes.

“Were you just going to try to kiss me?”

“What, no! Of course not.” He swallows.

“Yes you were!” She pinches the bridge of her nose and takes a deep breath before looking at him. “Hi, I just broke up with my fiancé, who I’ve been with for over five years, what part of that made you think it was a good time to pull a move on me? Was all of this because you just wanted to try and get a piece?”

“Casey, that’s not what’s happening. I genuinely came to check on you. I…I just misread a signal, that’s all.”

“What signal? I literally just said you were a good friend and hugged you!” She puts her hands on her hips and frowns at him. “I’m really disappointed in you, Harry. You never struck me as the kind of guy to be nice to a girl just to try to-“

“I’m not one of those guys.” He shakes his head. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or disrespect you, I just thought…”

“Harry, you’re my GA.”

“I know.”

“It would be highly inappropriate for us to get involved. I mean, I know I’m only three years older than you, but at the end of the day I have a position of power over you. You’re a bright man, Harry, don’t be stupid and risk messing up your future because you have a crush.”

Harry looks down at his shoes, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“I understand what you’re saying.” He looks up at her. “But you haven’t said that you don’t like me back.” He smirks, making her mouth fall open. She was speechless. “Sleep tight, Casey.” Harry turns and opens the door, letting himself out. Casey stands in her doorway.

“You’re on thin ice, Styles!” She calls after him.

“I’ll make sure to step with caution, Dr. Robertson!” He shouts back before getting into his car.

Casey shuts her door, and sighs, leaning against it for a moment before bringing herself up to bed. She goes through her nightly routine, and gets herself settled into her sheets. She knew there was an underlying reason as to why she didn’t want to try harder with Daniel. The more she got to know Harry, the more she’d dread coming home to her now ex-fiancé. She used to love coming home to Daniel and recounting their days, but she realized she just didn’t care about his cases anymore. She wanted to have high level talks about film and media. Daniel would always listen, but he never really understood why Casey was so passionate about her work. To him, it all just seemed like a hobby rather than a career. Harry, on the other hand, had the same passions as her. He understood how stimulating talk about film and media could be. She wasn’t having sexual feelings towards Harry, but she couldn’t wrap her head around the emotional attachment that begun. She figured maybe she couldn’t love Daniel that much if she’d rather spend extra hours in her office with Harry instead of trying to get home to Daniel before heading back to New York. It pained her, but that was the truth. Tonight confirmed that Harry was definitely into Casey. Now all Casey had to do was figure out how she felt about Harry, but she needed to get over Daniel first.

“You’re here early.” Casey says to Harry the next morning.

“I wanted to talk to you about last night. I feel really bad about how I acted. I thought that maybe we were having a moment. I apologize for misreading things. Kept me up all night.”

“Have a seat.” She motions to her couch and he sits down. She turns in her seat to face him. “Don’t worry about last night. I was in a vulnerable state, and I was more affectionate than I should have been. Nothing really happened between us, so it’s all good. It’s going to take me some time to get over Daniel. Five years is a long time to be committed to one person. I’m seeing him again this weekend, and who knows what could happen?”

“What do you mean?”

“We could easily get back together, and then what? The last thing I want to do is hurt you. Besides that, you’re my GA, it would be wrong. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. It’s not like…I mean…it’s nothing, okay? Think I’m just into you cause we have so much in common. And I really look up to you. You’re so accomplished, you know?”

“A smart woman doesn’t intimidate you?”

“Not at all.” He shakes his head. “I think smart women are incredibly”, Harry gets up from his seat and sits on the edge of Casey’s desk, “incredibly sexy.”

“You’re not really sorry for trying to kiss me last night, are you?” She smirks up at him.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you and for overstepping a boundary.” A grins starts to pull on his lips. “But I’m not sorry that it’s lead to you admitting that you like me.”

“I never said I liked you.”

“You never said you didn’t.”

“Harry.” Casey sighs.

“Listen”, Harry gets off her desk and sits back down on the couch, taking out his laptop. “take as much time as you need to get over Daniel. I’ll be right here when you’re ready for me.” He peers up at her from his laptop, smiling from ear to ear.

“You’re insufferable.” She shakes her head, getting back to her own work.

“And yet, here we are.”

“Harry, it’s 8:30 in the morning, we don’t have class until 10. Do me a favor and stay quiet until then, yeah?”

He makes a motion as to zip his lips, making Casey chuckle and roll her eyes. Later that day, when Harry had to leave for his own lecture, Casey snuck off to go see her friend, Lola, who works in the financial aid office.

“You busy?” Casey asks her friend as she sits down.

“I’m always free for you, Honey.” Lola smiles warmly. “What’s up?”

“Um…Daniel and I decided to officially end things over the weekend.” Casey says quietly. Lola had a cubicle to herself, but there were always wandering ears.

“Oh my god! I knew you guys were on the rocks, but holy shit.”

“He didn’t want to give up New York, and I didn’t want to give up here. It sucks, I’m totally heartbroken.” Casey frowns, trying not to cry again.

“Why didn’t you call me? I would have come over or something.”

“Well, I sort of just wanted to be alone…um, but someone came by to take care of me.”

“Oh, who?”

“H-Harry.”

“Your GA?!” Lola whisper-screams, and Casey nods. “Holy fuck, did anything happen?”

“No.” Casey shakes her head. “He just made me dinner…but he tried to kiss me before he left. I called him out on it, but…I don’t know, like, I…fuck.” Casey pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. “I don’t really know how to articulate this.”

“You find your GA, who happens to only be three years younger than you, attractive.” Lola says for Casey.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it. But I don’t want to get involved with anyone else right now. I still love Daniel, like, my heart is still with him.”

“But you also think you like Harry.”

“Well, what’s not to like about him? He makes me laugh, I like talking to him, he’s very sweet…and…fuck, I can’t even think like this. This is so unethical of me. If this were a male professor with a female GA, I’d be totally against it.”

“Yes, but that’s not the situation. You’re twenty-eight, he’s twenty-five, it’d be weird if you didn’t fall for each other.”

“I feel like it’s like when you fall for your therapist, you know? Like, what if he just likes me because he looks up to me? I shouldn’t even be entertaining the thought of this, right? It’s got to be against the rules.”

“Are you his professor?”

“Of course not, you know I don’t teach graduate level courses.”

“So, he in no way is going to be graded by you?”

“No.”

“And he could have easily been assigned to any other professor in the department. There was no special request on your part. And again, he’s twenty-five-years-old, it’s not like he’s some naïve twenty-one-year-old kid who just finished undergrad, you know?”

“That’s true.” Casey chews on her bottom lip. “I don’t know, think I need to get over my break up before I do anything.”

“I think that’s a good idea. You were together for over five years, that’s not something you’ll get over in a day, Babe. What do you say you and I grab drinks this weekend?”

“I can’t, Daniel’s coming back to pack up the rest of his things and he wants me there.”

“Alright, how about on Thursday? We can go for happy hour downtown after I get out.”

“Yeah, okay.” Casey nods. “Think I could definitely use some girl time, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Don’t overthink this Harry thing either. It’s not a problem yet, so don’t turn it into one.”

“You’re right, it’s just been a little flirting, it’s not like anything’s actually happened between us. If he really likes me, he’ll be patient.”

“And don’t forget, you’re worth the wait.”

#harry styles #tell me I'm the only one #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles x oc #harry styles series #harry styles au #GA!Harry #GArry

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another-tmnt-writer · 4 years

Text

You Fell From the Sky - Part 2

Leonardo x Reader

Author: Admin Mo

Summary: After falling from the sky and landing literally in the arms of your favorite turtle, it takes some adjustment to live in another reality, but with the help of the leader in blue, you’re getting used to it.

Note: Let it be known that I wrote the first part of this before I knew reality shifting was a thing, but now that I know it is……let me tell you, I am tempted…

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 1.6k

It had been three weeks. Three whole weeks living in the lair. You were over the moon. Honestly, it was spectacular. However, after three weeks without a phone charger (you’d been using it very, very sparingly and had it turned off most of the time) your phone was now at one percent. So, you popped into the lab, where Donnie was at the moment.

“Hey Donnie?” You asked tentatively, standing in the doorway.

“Oh, hey (Y/N)! Can I help you with something?” He asked, his voice friendly. He looked up at you, giving you his full attention from whatever he was working on.

“Um, do you have a phone charger I can use?”

“Of course!” He pulled open a drawer on his desk that was absolutely filled with charging chords of every time, meticulously organized with twist ties. “What kind do you need?”

“iPhone.” You said.

He reached into the drawer and handed you a ten-foot chord. “Here you go.”

“Thank you!” You smiled. “What are you working on, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I don’t mind!” He scooted over to let you see his screen. “I’m working on figuring out how to open an interdimensional portal right now. Sorry it’s taking me so long.”

“Don’t be sorry. This is literally groundbreaking work. You’re a genius, but I definitely didn’t expect you to do it overnight.”

“Well that’s reassuring.” He chuckled. “I’ll keep you posted. Don’t want to keep you here any longer than we have to.”

You knew he was kidding about the last bit, but your heart sank a little when he said it. You liked being at the lair. You liked spending time with the guys. Sure, you wanted to go home at some point, but you wished it didn’t have to come so soon.

“Thank you, Donnie.”

You left the lab to find Leo lingering just outside. He looked concerned, his arms crossed, head tilted, blue, blue eyes focused on you. “You okay?” he asked softly.

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“No reason. You just seemed a little down.” He answered. He stared at you for a moment before remembering, “Oh, April is here. She brought you some more clothes.”

“Awesome. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it.” He shrugged, leading you back out to the living room, where Mikey was ranting about something to April and Casey while Raph listened and shook his head.

You stared at each of them for a long moment, absorbing. Megan Fox and Stephen Amell were standing like twenty feet away from you. It was overwhelming to say the very least. “Holy shit…”

“Hi! You must be (Y/N). I’m April. This is Casey.”

“Hockey puck has got a bit of a chip on his shoulder, but he means well.” Raph elaborated.

“This is so insane.” You laughed, smiling at them. “It’s incredible to meet you. The boys…told you where I’m from, right?”

“Yeah, they did.” April nodded. “That must have been quite the jump.”

“It was. I’m still…getting used to it, I guess.”

“Well, take your time.” She nudged Raph playfully. “They take some getting used to.”

“Hey!” Raph scoffed, nudging her back. “Ya took some getting used to yourself, O’Neil.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much.” Leo said, his eyes sparkling. “I think you’re fitting in just fine.”

You ignored the way your heart raced when he said it, replying with a smirk, “I agree.”

***

It was later that night. You were in the kitchen, baking with Splinter’s permission. He was in his room drinking tea and the boys were out on patrol. That was the other thing. Every time they left, you felt empty. You knew they’d be fine, but there was always a little bit of worry nagging in the back of your brain. What if they…weren’t?

So: stress-baking. The recipe of the evening? Chocolate chip cookies. They were a classic you were sure the boys would like. Your hair was up in a messy bun and you had some tunes playing from your phone. You scooped out the balls of cookie dough, setting them in careful rows on the pan before sticking them into the hot oven.

You baked for a few hours, rotating trays until you had a batch big enough to feed four hungry mutant turtles, their father, and yourself.

You switched off the oven, and right as you did, you heard their voices echoing through the tunnels until finally, they entered the lair.

“Good night?” You asked hopefully.

“Better now, angelcakes.” Mikey winked and then stopped in his tracks when he saw the steaming pile of fresh-baked cookies. His eyes widened and he gasped excitedly. “Are these for us?”

“Yep.”

“Wow, she bakes, too, Leo.” Raph teased, reaching for a cookie in time with Donnie.

“Thanks, (Y/N),” said the turtle in the purple bandana.

“Of course.”

Leo went in for one last, still reeling a bit from Raph’s comment, his cheeks rosier than usual. He said softly, “Thank you for doing this.”

“Thank you for letting me crash here. I honestly don’t know what I would have done without you guys finding me when you did.”

“It’s the least we could do.” Leo insisted.

“Alright, quit yer flirting. Let’s all go watch a movie or something.” Raph insisted, walking out towards the TV. The rest of you followed, and of course when you and Leo went to find seats, the only two that were left were right next to each other.

You settled in, blushing a bit. Raph had a smug smirk on his face.

“What?” You challenged, causing him to chuckle.

“Nothin’.”

As it got later, it also got colder, and you soon found yourself shivering the slightest bit, wishing you’d thought to grab a blanket before the movie started like the rest of the guys had.

“Are you cold?” Leo asked.

Instead of telling him you weren’t like you wanted to, you nodded. Without hesitation, he pulled half of his large blue blanket onto your lap, letting you share his warmth. As if you weren’t blushing enough before, he just had to be a gentleman and fluster you even further.

“T-thanks.” You could have punched yourself for stuttering, but Leo didn’t seem to mind. He still kept a polite distance from you, his leg a good few inches from yours despite the blanket that was draped across you both.

You were quiet for the rest of the movie, and when it was over, Raph went to work out, Donnie retreated into his lab, and Mikey went to his room to scroll through TikToks on his phone. That left you and Leo sitting awkwardly under the large blue knitted blanket you were sure Raph had made. Maybe it had been a Christmas present or something. You weren’t sure.

“Not to give you déjà vu, but I’m sorry about Raph.” Leo chuckled. “I asked him to stop, so of course it only got worse.”

“I really don’t mind.” You told him, meeting his clear blue gaze. “That’s what brothers do, isn’t it?”

He laughed. “Yeah, I guess it is. Do you have any siblings?”

“No, unfortunately. I’m an only child. Grew up with my aunt because my parents couldn’t be bothered to actually parent.”

“Mmm.” Leo hummed, nodding.

“I guess that’s probably why I latched onto the idea of you guys so much as a kid. I liked the idea of a sibling bond like that. Working together as a team. Having a built-in group of friends to hang out with.”

“It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, but we do work well together.” Leo agreed. “When we’re not bickering, that is.”

You were quiet for a moment, mustering up courage before you said, “He’s right, though. Raph, I mean.”

Leo stared at you, his eyes widening in half-realization. “What…how…what do you mean?” His voice cracked when he asked it, his heart pounding.

“Well…Leo, I’ve had a crush on you since I was fifteen years old; I doubt it’s going away anytime soon.”

He looked at you in shock, pretty sure he’d hallucinated what you just said. All he could reply with was a shaky, “On me?”

You laughed. “Yes, Leo. On you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I’m not even supposed to exist here.”

“I do. Feel the same.” He blurted. His statement was quick, but it was firm. Carefully, he took your hand in his large, green, three-fingered one and he was reminded just how different the two of you actually were. He was about to let go, but you squeezed his hand reassuringly. He laughed at himself, slightly embarrassed to be floundering in front of you, but it was out of his control. “I’m sorry, I’m new to this.”

“That’s okay.” You smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I promise I’ll do my best to make you happy. Just let me know if I’m doing something wrong. I’m learning, after all.” His thumb rubbed the back of your hand. “And I know that…at some point you’re going to have to go back. But…I’m willing to make the most of whatever time we have.”

“Me too.” You nodded. A yawn slipped from your lips. It was getting late. You wouldn’t be surprised if the sun was already up. “I think it’s about time I got to bed.” You told him, standing up and setting the blanket on the couch.

Since you’d been there, the boys had created you a makeshift room of your own in one of the giant pipes in the wall, a little one with your own mattress and some bedding Raph had whipped up for you.

Leo stood up too, towering over you as soon as he did. You stood on your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Leo replied, smiling at you like you’d put the moon and stars in the sky with your bare hands. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” You echoed, walking off towards your pipe, a new kind of warmth swirling around in your chest.

#leonardo x reader #leonardo imagine #leonardo #leo x reader #leo imagine #leo #tmnt #tmnt imagine #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2014

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just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi · 3 years

Note

omg all this rudy talk makes me think... can we get a snippet where one of masons friends comes over and notes how well behaved they are, and asks if theyre for sale? and clyde isnt worried about it but rudy is

Whoooo the first part to this new arc! Thank you anon and sorry it took me a while to get to this. Honestly that is just my brand at this point.

TW: Pet Whump, dehumanization/animalization, conditioned whumpees/pet whumpees, condescension, alcohol mention in passing, human trafficking discussion (aka buying and selling people)

[Masterlist] [Arc Tag]

There was a new trainer at work. Another young guy eager to prove himself and build his own practice. Mason could tell, after seeing enough of these new trainers come through. He was posed to take over the academy someday, so it would be good to start getting pieces in line underneath him. This new guy was green, really green, but maybe he could use that to his advantage.

So he invited him over.

Casey brought a six-pack with him, which made Mason smirk. “You trying to shmooze me?” he asked, taking them regardless. Not cheap shit, either. Casey smiled.

“Maybe.”

Clyde milled around the kitchen as Rudy pretended he wasn’t anxiously awaiting this new visitor. He loved guests! They would talk with him and perhaps even play for a bit. And, a long time ago, Master used to let guests give them both treats. That wasn’t as common anymore, but it did happen. Clyde liked them too, even if he didn’t show it the same as Rudy. Guests meant conversation, and spending the evening on the couch with Master listening to the conversation above his head was one of Clyde’s favorite things.

A sharp click caught their attention and both boys looked up to see the two men walking into the space. Casey smiled and stepped forward to play with Rudy’s hair.

“There they are! The pets I hear so much about - such a cutie” he said the last part to Rudy, messing the mop of hair Mason kept meaning to take to the groomers but just hadn’t yet.

Rudy smiled wide. It made him so proud to know that Master had been talking about them - bragging even! They were good! Not ignoring the older pet, Casey leaned over to rub under Clyde’s jaw. He smiled as well, content with the affection.

“Well food’s almost done - just a few last touches. Rudy; out,” Mason stated. Without hesitation, Rudy gathered up the pencils he had been drawing with and headed to the living room.

“What’s that about?” Casey asked, leaning against the counter and opening one of the beers he brought. Clyde hung around the outskirts of the conversation, appearing to look out the window into the backyard.

“I don’t like Rudy in the kitchen while I’m cooking. He’s a sweet thing but I don’t trust him not to poke a lit stovetop cause it was glowing.”

Casey laughed, and ended it with a little amused but sad “aww”. He peered out into the living room to see Rudy peeking around the corner. He hadn’t gone far. The boy flushed red and retreated quickly. Casey smiled.

“You didn’t train that out of him? I thought you were the master trainer,” Casey joked, waving his hands at the ‘master trainer’ part. Mason chuckled.

“You’ll learn pretty quickly there are some things you just can’t teach pets - common sense being one of them.”

After dinner they all ended up in the living room, Clyde leaning up against Mason while Casey played with Rudy. They started playing a simple board game, but it devolved after Casey flicked one of the extra pieces at Rudy. He had laughed and crawled over to get it, aiming it up at Casey like he had just done. Right before firing, however, he glanced up to see Mason’s disapproving raise of an eyebrow above his phone. Sheepishly, he put it back on the board.

Casey stood and sat on the couch, patting his leg for Rudy to join him. Happy to do so, Rudy climbed up and laid his head across the man’s lap, absently picking a thread off Casey’s knee.

“How long were you training before you got one of your own? I know I should probably wait but man, I want a pet so bad.”

Mason shrugged and put his phone away. “I waited about a year. In all honesty I knew all the information before that, I just wanted to make sure I had the technique down before I got one.” He rubbed the spot of the back of Clyde’s head he knew the boy liked so much. “They’re a big investment, so you want to make sure you’re really ready - especially if you’re training them yourself.”

Casey looked down to where he was playing with Rudy’s hair.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I was also playing with the idea of buying a pre-trained one. You know, just to have.”

Another pause.

“Is this one for sale?” he asked, making his voice sound like he hadn’t come to Mason’s house that night to ask. It was a longshot, but the boy was exactly what he wanted. Down to the last detail.

Casey could feel Rudy tense against him, could see his eyes fly wide open with concern.

Mason laughed.

Casey laughed along, slightly disappointed but not much. As to be expected.

“Uh, no. No, both my boys are going to stay right here with me. If you do want to buy from a trainer directly you can ask at the office and see what they have available. Caroline usually knows of someone.”

The conversation meandered from there, sometimes about work and sometimes not. Rudy, however, didn’t return to his relaxed state. He stayed tense, eyes locked at an uncomfortable angle on Mason. Eventually Mason took pity on him and called him over, and he quickly obliged. Casey watched him crawl over and practically melt into the man’s lap, back to the guest-turned-danger. He wanted him so bad.

Mason rolled his eyes at the pet and winked at Casey. “He’s a rescue, so there’s some attachment issues there. Shelter pets can be so worth it, but they’re not great for a first one.”

Casey conceded. Personally, he didn’t see that level of attachment as an issue, but that was just preference. The money he would have paid to have that pet attached to him like that…

taggos: @whumpingredroses @suspicious-whumping-egg

#pet whump #dehumanization tw #animalization tw #conditioned whumpee #condescending tw #alcohol mention tw #human trafficking tw #rudy and clyde don't need a tag #mason is good at his job #casey #stalker arc: rudy and clyde #Later that night when they go up to their room it isn’t 2 seconds before Rudy is like #😥😰😢😭😭😭#and clyde is like #😐♥ *pat pat pat* ‘you’re okay.’

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utterlyinevitable · 3 years

Note

If you don't mind, could we please get a follow up fic of your previous one where Ethan finds out that MC used to be a porn star? 🙏

Thank you! 🙏

Sure! It's going to be a little different than what you're probably expecting because Ethan broke up with Tabitha via text at the end of the last hc.

While it's in my head, here we go.... (thanks @jerzwriter for the idea!)

OPH Boys Date a Former Pornstar

Ethan

[Part 1]

Ethan Ramsey did not take the revelation well.

Tabitha did try to call and text to ask what he truly meant by “I’m sorry”. She knew he’d be weird about it which is why she never told him - why he never tells anybody. She had a feeling what his last message was but it’s just nice to have clarification.

When she hadn’t heard from him two days later she was resigned to accept her intuition as reality.

Ethan blocked and deleted her number and removed every trace of her from his life like she was an infestation to be taken care of.

Bryce

It didn’t take long for Bryce to figure it out. Tabitha was elusive and didn’t talk about her work life that much. In his early-30s work was pretty much ALL he had to talk about.

Bryce didn’t figure it out on his own. One of his Stanford buddies brought it up at their yearly get together.

At this point things have been going good between him and Tabi the last three months and he showed his good friend a picture of them.

His friend spat his drink, grabbed Bryce’s phone and zoomed uncomfortably in on her face and low cut neckline.

“Dude…” he said with disbelief. “Do you know who this is?”

“My girlfriend Tabitha. Stop being weird.”

His buddy broke out into a sinister laughter “That’s Tabbi Lee. Bro, your girls in porn.”

Bryce’s eyes widened.

That explains so much.

The nature of their conversations. How she’s always skirting around talk of the past and what she does. How fucking amazing the sex is.

He confronts her - well, casually brings it up in the most charming Bryce of ways.

“Does it bother you?” she asks, near-empty drink in hand and imploring him.

Bryce takes a second before responding. His smile grows into a signature megawatt one. “No.”

Tabitha raises a brow, not really believing him.

He circles the bar table, placing a hand on her hip and asking, “It’s in the past, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nods, accompanied by a small smile.

Bryce places a chaste kiss to her lips.

And that’s that on that.

Rafael

They’ve been together almost five months when Tabitha finally tells him. She’s never met anyone quite like Raf and keeping this from him felt like too much of a lie.

So they’re at her expensive 18th floor condo overlooking the bay one afternoon he had off. Doing it in daylight before she could ruin the rest of their relationship seemed like the best bet. Tabitha has learned over the years how to do this.

“I need to confess something,” she broached the second he kissed her hello.

The look of worry on Raf’s face was evident and it crushed her heart. She didn’t want to let him go but it couldn’t go on like this any longer.

She told him everything. From how it started to how it ended and what she does now. Why she lives on the other side of the country.

The entire time Rafael sat and listened. His face the most impassive she’s ever seen.

“Okay... That’s a lot to take in,” he finally says.

“I know.”

He got up slightly dazed and walked towards the door. “I need some time to think this through.”

Tabitha tried to hide her sadness, “Of course.”

Rafael walked out and spent the rest of the day in kind of a haze. It was a BIG thing that she dropped. Tabitha’s a pornstar. So many men have seen and keep seeing her naked, and the connotations that come with what he’s done.... He doesn’t think it’ll fit in the community well.

As Raf always does when he’s muddled, he visits Vovo.

He doesn’t tell her exactly what’s going on, just that he’s having relationship problems.

Vovo gives him some very sage advice about not letting the past dictate the future.

And so Rafael calls her the next morning.

Tabitha’s so relieved she almost says those three words.

Tobias

He recognized her that evening. After meeting and drinking and grabbing a bite and sending her off in a cab Tobias got home and realized why she seemed so familiar. He cockily smiled to himself as he finished his nightcap and sent her a cheeky text.

One text turned into another and couple calls and a few more dates. And then finally... a sleepover.

Tobias has been looking forward to this since the moment they locked eyes across the room all those nights ago.

It went better than he could have dreamed.

They continued to see one another. Casually and not so casually.

It’s fun for now but he doesn’t see her being forever. Definitely not worth the risk to bring her to any high profile work events.

_________________

a/n: hope this made sense and wasn’t a total disappointment!

Perma:

@lucy-268 @thegreentwin @queencarb @danijimenezv @starrystarrytrouble @terrm9 @interobanginyourmom @maurine07 @mercury84choices @schnitzelbutterfingers @the-pale-goddess @whimsicallywayward15 @mvalentine @mm2305 @rookie-ramsey @drariellevalentine @withbeautyandrage @forallthatitsworth @stateofgracious @missmiimiie @uneravine @iemcpbchoices @sophxwithers @therookie @quixoticdreamer16 @lsvdw-blog

@adiehardfan @headoverheelsforramsey @dickgraysonsscrumptiousbooty @reputaytion-xiii

Ethan:

@udishaman @binny1985 @honeyandsunfl0wers @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @ohchoices @dulceghernandez @blossomanarchy @stygianflood @openheartthot @senseofduties @tsrookie @kalogh @aworldoffandoms @takemyopenheart @casey-v @ethanramseylover @a-crepusculo @randomperson111 @anntoldst0ries @aishaaaaaaah @estellaelysian @mysticaurathings @mayarambles

Bryce:

@eleanorbloom

Bryce HC:

@weaving-in-words

#i struggled with the Raf one....#bryce lahela #rafael aveiro #tobias carrick #ethan ramsey #open heart theories #choices oph #choices open heart #ethan x mc #Bryce x Mc #rafael x mc #tobias x mc

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serenasoutherlyns · 3 years

Text

Not a Summer Crush Part Six

a/n: OH MY GOD I CAN'T BELIEVE I FINISHED A CHAPTER! This will probably be the second or third to last one? Anyways, this is The Chapter where it happens so. Enjoy!! Any feedback is appreciated, it feels so good to have written something :).

Part Six

Serena quickly counted the number of drinks she’d had in her head. She felt more sober by far than you, Casey, or Alex seemed; everything was going according to plan. You were dancing with one of your friends from the studio, leaving Casey and Alex to dance together; Serena noticed-- looking towards you as much as one another. Serena had been dancing with one of your friends. At the next break the band took, Mariana followed the four of you back to your table, kissed Serena on the cheek and started pulling her away from you, with a look in her eyes that, you recognized from personal experience, meant she had every intention of taking her in the restroom. You winked at the two of them, expecting Serena to follow her lead, but she didn’t instead electing to give her hip a squeeze before whispering something in her ear and sitting down beside Casey while you slid in next to Alex again.

“You two are really getting the hang of this,” you said, your head resting in your hands, your elbows propped up on the table. You didn’t like to get too drunk when you went dancing, mainly because the diminished coordination bothered you, but you’d made an exception tonight, and you were feeling pleasantly buzzed, enough to push your flirting out of the territory of subtle. You leaned your head against Alex’s shoulder, smiling as she said something you weren’t quite listening to. You tended to “check out” when you were drunk, turning into a bit of a passive observer, letting the big picture of the space wash over you rather than noticing every little piece of conversation.

Serena held out her phone to snap a picture of the group, and as she did so, you tilted your head up the slightest bit to bring your lips to rest incredibly lightly on Alex’s cheek. Testing the waters again, you lifted your head up further and turned across the table to see Casey, not jealous but happy, the smile on her lips full of desire, her pupils wide. Alex was blushing, her gaze averted from your own. You no longer had any more doubt: this was going to happen. It was all a question of when

“Serena,” you said, “what do you think of Mariana?” It was a plot to get her to leave the three of you alone, and you were sure you weren’t being delicate enough for her not to notice. You didn’t much care.

“She’s beautiful, talented,” Serena said with a suggestive wink. “I’m sure you know that, though,” she said.

You choked on your drink, coughing. “You act like I’ve slept with everyone in here,” you said, hoping Serena would take you up on the door you were opening.

Nobody was better than her at picking up the hidden question underneath someone’s statements. “Almost,” she said, low and playful. Casey swatted Serena’s shoulder (to which Serena reacted with an indignant “ow!”) while Alex took another long sip of her drink.

Mariana walked back by your table, grabbing Serena’s hand before she could object too strongly to your reactions, and Serena followed, leaving the three of you alone.

“Mariana is--”

“A friend of mine,” you cut Casey off before she could insinuate that you were in any kind of relationship that didn’t boil down to head over heels for the two of you. “I think she’s about to eat Serena alive, though,” you continued. That got the three of you laughing, Casey letting her head fall back, her soft red waves grazing over the tops of her shoulders. Alex pressed herself closer to you. If you turned towards her right then, just the slightest bit, you’d be touching in all kinds of important places. You felt your skin heat at the thought. She was close enough that you could feel her chest rise and fall from her side, that the scent of her shampoo and tequila filled your senses and suddenly it was all too much: the sounds, music, chatter, clinking glasses, the smells, the warmth and humidity of the space not to mention the same look on Casey’s face and your mildly drunk state. Your head was spinning. You coughed, overwhelmed. “Excuse me,” you said as you rose and walked to the bathroom, hoping you hadn’t sounded upset.

At the table, Alex looked at Casey with panic. Casey’s eyes were similarly wide and scared. “Alex, what did you do?”

---

When you made it to the bathroom, you realized what you’d done. You blew it, you panicked in a moment you could’ve taken advantage of and now all of your chances were out the window. Fuck. You leaned over the sink, breathing heavily, swallowing what could become tears. These feelings were getting excessive. You’d spent all night close to one or both of them, elegantly spinning Casey’s athletic form across the floor, gently guiding Alex’s uncoordinated self through the movements, watching the two of them fit perfectly in each other’s arms; and it had felt perfect: holding, watching, spinning, then Alex had come in close and you’d freaked out. You started coughing again from breathing hard. You heard a noise behind you, the unlocking of one of the stalls. Great, you thought, someone else was there to witness your hysterics.

That someone else was Serena Southerlyn, who carefully walked up beside you in what was

not exactly a comforting gesture. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked huffing, having spent her patience by this point. Mariana walked out of the stall and out of the bathroom doors, rolling her eyes at your plight (which was fair enough, considering that you’d failed to text her back after you slept together not once but three times before).

“Thanks,” you said, pushing yourself back from the sink to face her. You debated whether to tell her the truth, but you’d realized, at this point, how many of your rules regarding romance Casey and Alex had broken for you. You leaned back against the wall, crossing your arms in front of you. “We were talking,” you said, the nervousness still in your voice, “And Alex was so close and Casey was too, and I just, I freaked, Serena and I think I ruined it if there was an it to ruin and I don’t know what to do!” you said, all in one breath.

Serena took a breath, rubbing her eyes, then turned and begun to leave the room.

“Where are you going?” you said, “I just bore my soul to you, Southerlyn!”

“I’m going to fix this,” she said. “And you owe me one for driving Mariana away. Seriously, what did you do to her?” she asked. You started to answer, but she cut you off, “Don’t tell me.” She waved her hand at you and was gone, leaving you stunned.

---

Serena took a second to slow down the pace she was walking at so that when she arrived at the table, she wouldn’t have to slide to a halt. It wasn’t a pretty sight: Alex and Casey hadn’t moved at all, and they both looked very confused and anxious; Casey with her bottom lip between her teeth, Alex looking into her mostly empty glass like the ice cubes could tell her fortune. It was pathetic, in Serena’s opinion.

“What did you do, Alex?” Serena asked as she sat down.

Alex let out an unamused chuckle. “Why does everyone assume it’s my fault?” she replied, but gave up being defensive. “I don’t know. I thought things were going so well, but I must’ve misread her because…” she trailed off. Casey had a forlorn look in her eyes, one that Serena had seen before, years ago at a party when she and Alex had been trying to stay just friends. That night, Serena had asked her if she really was ready to let her go. Casey had looked at her with those same eyes and said, “no, I’m not,” taken a sip of her beer, “but I’m going to have to be, won’t I?” And that night, Serena pulled Alex aside and told her, and she remembered the exact words, “You can’t do this to her, Lex.” Alex had turned her eyes towards the ground, but hadn’t replied, and Serena had finished, “You can’t do this to yourself.” Those same looks and those same feelings, and Serena wasn’t going to let the two of them screw up this time either. The things she did for friendship!

“Well,” Serena said, “She’s in the bathroom hyperventilating because she thinks she ruined her chances with you. So I would advise that the two of you go fix that. Apologize or explain or whatever.” She didn’t give them time to argue. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go try to finish what I started,” she rose from the table. “You’re all grownups, talk to each other.”

They looked at one another for a moment, communicating without words, reading one another in the same way they’d learned to over the years of being in love. “So, I guess I’ll go talk to her?” Casey said, eliciting a sigh of relief from her wife. She always was better with uncertainty.

“That would be amazing of you, baby,” Alex said, squeezing Casey’s hand and leaning over the table to kiss her, before they both stood from the table at the same time, and walked away in opposite directions.

---

You hardly dared to move from where you were parked against the wall as you waited for something to happen. You weren’t exactly sure what Serena meant by “fixing” this, but it turned out that the outcome you’d most hoped for was the one you got. There was a hesitant initial push on the door, then one more insistent. Casey’d left you breathless multiple times tonight, her dress, her hair, the way her lipstick clung to the straw in her cocktail, but this, you thought, was going to win out as the most striking image of her you’d gotten: tall, confident, her dress clinging to her figure, and most importantly, blue-green eyes, taking you in.

“Hi,” you said, more quietly than you intended, questioning her.

“Hi,” she replied.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve rushed out of there like that, I,” you started to say, but Casey stopped you, shaking her head and moving closer. She took your hand and pushed a curl behind your ear.

“I don’t think any of us know exactly what we’re doing,” she said, laughing a little into the words, “But I know I want to do it. Alex, too,” she said.

You nodded, swallowing, her reassurance bringing back some of your confidence. “Yeah,” you said, choosing not to dwell on coming up with the right words. She was standing so close to you that there was barely any space to close; but you closed it anyway. You pulled her in, your arms wrapped around her waist like they had been many times that night. Your lips touched, finally kissing her, in a way that felt inevitable but still surprising. It was a light, innocent, careful kiss, pleasant that way. You felt so many ways that you couldn’t quite sort them out-- excited, terrified, gratified. But most of all you wanted more. You broke the kiss for just enough time to start to catch your breath, then pulled her somehow closer, kissing her with more insistence, and there was nothing innocent about this one. You parted your lips, deepening the kiss, ready to give her whatever she would take. You sighed when she pulled away, looking up at her with eyes that you were sure must be dark with desire.

“Would you want to come home with me?” She asked, with an endearing uncertainty that you marveled at, knowing how impossible it would’ve been for you to refuse after that kiss.

You nodded, biting your lip. “Of course,” you breathed out, “but Alex…”

“She left a few minutes ago, I told her we’d meet her there.”

“Sure of yourself there, Novak?” you teased, already heading for the bathroom door.

Casey wrapped an arm around your waist as the two of you made your way towards the exit and a cab and the promise of even more closeness. “Maybe. But I was right, wasn’t I?”

Your reply was a smile and a bite of your lip.

---

You woke up to the smell of coffee and a borderline offensive amount of sunlight invading your foggy brain. You began to claw your way through the morning confusion, the suggestion of a hangover building in your temples. Three things were different about the scene. First, you always slept with your blinds closed. Second, someone else had made coffee. Third, when you stretched slightly forward you felt another body respond, pressing herself into you. You felt a rush of elation run from your forehead to your toes. While you were still sleepy, you couldn’t resist the urge to hug her tighter, thinking about last night, how you’d finally gotten what you’d been wanting for months. You thought about pinching yourself.

“Good morning,” Alex said, her voice raspy and full, you thought, of the same excited happiness you were feeling. You pushed yourself up on your side, reaching over to tuck Alex’s mussed hair behind her ear, then to kiss her temple. She hummed in appreciation, and as you pressed your lips to her neck, traced where your lips had been only a few hours ago, gentler, she breathed deeply, turning onto her back so you could kiss her properly. You did so, lazily shifting to sit with your legs tucked to the side. “Quite a wake-up call,” she said, giving you a satisfied smile.

“I’m not surprised Casey’s an early riser,” you said, in a teasing, loud whisper, “and I’m not surprised that you aren’t. I guess I’ll have to split the difference. I could stand to build better habits anyway.” Alex felt a flutter of excitement when you said that, implying this would happen enough to build a habit. You’d each shared a few hopes with one another last night, but part of her was going to be looking for reassurance for a little while yet.

Your phone rang, buzzing from your bag. Through some kind of miracle, it was Gillian’s turn to catch cases that day, so you thought it was probably spam and clicked it off without looking as you slid your feet off the side of the (very comfortable) bed to dangle above the floor. Alex made a noise of protest, placing a hand on your lower back. “Warm,” she said, when you laughed lightly.

“I’ll bring you coffee,” you said, your feet meeting the rug without a sound.

You were wearing a pair of Casey’s old terry shorts and one of Alex’s college shirts, that had a black line on the bottom where a bouncer had missed her hand. While that was all you’d heard of the story, you were now very eager to find out what kind of shows Alex Cabot had gone to in college. The shorts were fraying, especially one point on the right side (below the pocket) and you now had an image of Casey idly playing with the fabric while reading something dense so clear in your mind you may as well have seen it.

As you padded into the kitchen through the living room, you took notice of things you’d been too busy to see the night before: the extensive amount of poetry mixed in with the law books on the shelf, photos of Alex and Casey through the years, a few pieces of carefully chosen artwork. It was very put together and nothing like your place, but it felt right for the two of them. You had an idea, then, when you remembered the abundance of knickknacks that made their way into your tiny bag. You pulled out the first one your fingers found: a tiny duck carved out of rose quartz you’d picked up from a vendor and never found a place for in your apartment or office. Yes, it was silly and it stuck out, but despite all that, as you placed it on the large bookshelf, it fit.

“What’s his name?” Casey said, leaning in the door frame.

“How long have you been there,” you said, turning around and walking to meet her. “And good morning, I promised Alex coffee, so there better be some left.” Casey reached behind herself and handed you two mugs. “And his name is Apollo.”

“Of course,” she said, smiling. You then headed back to the bedroom, Casey walking behind you.

---

Your phone rang again almost immediately after the three of you got cozy in bed again. You didn’t usually get two spam calls in the same morning, so you motioned for Casey to hand your phone to you (as it was on her end table) and, seeing it was Ashley, you answered it, remembering that he was back from his trip that day and probably wondered why you weren’t there for breakfast. Casey and Alex could overhear the conversation, sharing charmed looks over the top of your head.

“Hey, are you alive?”

“I am alive, yes,” you replied, laughing.

“Ooooh, I know that tone!” he said excitedly. “Are you at their place?”

“I am, in fact,” you said, leaning into the hand Casey had placed on your thigh.

“Oh OK, details later,” he said, and when Alex gave you an over-the-glasses look you shrugged. “I’ll tell the girl that the mock trial rehash can wait,” he said.

You heard Ophélie begin to argue with him in the background of the call, and since you knew that meant she would want a complete explanation later (and because you really did want to know how her case went), you replied, “No, no, put her on, it’s OK.”

“Hmm,” he said, “It’s your ear.”

He wasn’t kidding. Your niece took the phone and shrieked into the microphone. You pulled it away from your head until she started saying words. Alex laughed as she blew on her hot coffee, making ripples. “I won!” she exclaimed, talking fast in the particular cadence of a preteen girl. “First, I presented a motion to exclude the evidence that Izzy, sorry, my client, was in the car because I found something in the packet that showed that it wasn’t admit-able,

“Admissible,”

“Admissible, and then I--”

“OK,” you said, “I am so proud of you, kiddo, but can we save the motion by motion for dinner?” mentioning the dinner you’d promised her for victory was enough to get her on a different track, half talking to you and half to her parents and sisters. “Alright bug, I’m hanging up now,” you said. “Bye!” you insisted when she didn’t respond.

“Bye!” came her distracted reply. You turned the phone off and set it aside, seeing the grins on both of the women beside you’s faces.

“What?” you said, your voice going up at the end of the word.

“I can see your influence,” Alex said.

“She’s going to start pulling case law on me in a few years, isn’t she?” you said.

“She can read our books,” Casey said. The way she offered something like that, comfortably, to your family, not scared off by them, struck something deep in you, that wasn’t infatuation or friendship, but the start of something else. “That is, if you’re comfortable with it, and not that you don’t have any,” she said, a hint of worry in her voice.

“That seems dangerous for my sanity, but she’d love that,” you said, assuaging any fear. Satisfied, Casey smiled and sipped her coffee. Another phone buzz came, this time from Alex’s side of the bed.

“It’s from Serena,” she said, reading the text aloud. “‘Congrats!!!!’ with four exclamation points, which feels like overkill.”

“I don’t know,” you said, “It feels appropriate to me.” Alex nodded, conceding, as you drank your coffee, looking at her over your mug.

---

On Monday, there was a café miel on your desk again. There was a note beside it, largely the same as all the other ones, except, it ended with a smudge of lipstick that you’d recognize anywhere. You tucked it into the box where you kept all the notes and you sat down at your desk. You felt like you’d never had a sweeter drink in your life.

---

taglist: @addictedtodinosaurs, @nocreditinthestraightworld, @cmmndrwidw, @hi-i-1, @lesbianologist, @alexlivdoncas, @laezzzi

#thank you for reading #fanfiction #calex fanfiction #casey novak x alex cabot #calex #calex x reader #Law & order: svu #serena southerlyn #Law & order fanfiction #forgive typos and please be gentle #I’m going to create a family that is so found #so much coffee in this on folks #so fluffy it feels vulgar a bit

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

Text

To Bloom in the Night - JOOCHAN

I accept half the blame for this fic but the other half has to go to one casey @thepixelelf both for coming up with the title and for convincing me to make this angst instead of the original pure fluff it was meant to be.... anyway casey this fic and the universe as a whole is dedicated to you because without your big brain I would not have been able to figure out all the storylines

(This is set in the same universe as weaver!Bomin, whose masterlist is linked below!! Also if you want a visual for Joochan think wannabe era like in the gif)

Pairing: Joochan x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, fantasy, royalty!au

Triggers: cursing, brief mentions of death and blood (nothing graphic), one implication of abuse, asshole parents

Word Count: 24.4k

Death cannot exist without life, which is why Joochan can’t exist without you.

To Spin a Yarn | Golden Child Masterlist

Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, there lived two princes bestowed with magic. They were beautiful, kind – even their parents’ hardened hearts could not break the bond between them. This was fortunate, for in one prince lay a secret that would set a rift in the family for years to come.

The second prince was blessed, a golden child. His charming face and smiling lips drew attention the second he walked into a room, and the mere sound of his voice made all those present swoon. His song was rapturous, magical – his music possessed the ability to heal the deepest wounds and soothe the coldest hearts. He was useful to his parents, the perfect heir, especially when they decided to pass over his brother, the first prince, for claim to the throne.

For this brother was said to be cursed, cursed with the magic of death rather than the blessing of life. His beauty was darker, eyes piercing where his brother’s were soft, and his song, though achingly beautiful, cleft the very wounds his brother healed and wrought pain on the soul. Despite being first born, despite having a kind heart that never wished a single person harm, the king and queen looked upon him with fear and disgust, lavishing their favor on his brother instead.

Yet despite their differences, the brothers loved each other to the fullest. The elder did not resent the younger for his freedom to sing and only encouraged his art, while the younger saw beyond the sorrow woven in his brother’s voice and into the goodness of his soul. All those who saw the pair marveled at their friendship, in the way their eyes shone whenever the other was near, and many whispered that the royal family was blessed, even if the king and queen themselves refused to see it – these two young princes, blessed with handsome looks and gentle hearts, were more than the cold-hearted rulers truly deserved.

But love, the brothers would learn, meant more than simply staying together. Sometimes a love born of shared blood was not enough to keep one by the other’s side. In time, the first prince would wither under his curse of death, unable to smile even with his brother’s golden light glowing upon his face, for not being free to use the voice he was gifted by the gods cut gashes in his heart deeper than even his brother’s song could heal. Music lived in his soul, song shimmering in his blood, but so long as he was a pariah in his own home, he could not exercise his gift for fear of bringing death upon an innocent.

(It had happened once already.)

So he sang at night, music confined to the corners of his room. His voice echoed between the thick stone walls, lachrymose, sorrowful even with the happiest of songs. He sang for only himself to hear, never daring even to open the windows unless he knew no one stood below on the blank patch of stubborn grass that somehow still managed to grow, even under the curse of his song.

Then the gardener came with their night-blooming roses, petals of the darkest midnight blue blossoming under shimmering stars. And when the first prince stepped onto the balcony to perform for a crowd of what he thought was no one, he heard, for the first time in his life, someone wholly, fully alive, singing words of healing back.

From then, night by night, the prince began to unfurl his withered leaves, darkened flowers reaching for the moon as starlight glinted on his petals. For in this duet with his night-blooming rose, the first prince learned the lesson of the gods, imparted to mortals in centuries past but lost to fear of the unknown, of the darkness beyond the sun.

Death cannot exist without life, as life cannot exist without death. They are opposite and the same, two sides of a single coin. And in this gardener of the night-blooming roses, the first prince had found the life to his death, a second half in ways even his brother, loving though he was, could not yet hope to contest.

This is the story of the first prince, marked as a curse from the age of five, who grew to learn the gift behind his melody of death when it first twined with the harmony of life.

. . . . .

Joochan’s stomach roils as he stands in front of the mirror, silently waiting for the half dozen servants scuttling around his feet to finish the last adjustments to his suit. It fits him perfectly already – he doesn’t understand what they’re still doing to the hemline of his pants or the shoulders of his shirt – but Joochan doesn’t have much knowledge about clothes. Only music.

And curses and death.

His stomach doesn’t flip this time, only sinks as he closes his eyes briefly against reminders of the magic that flows unused through his veins. They don’t fade, though, only come to the forefront of his mind even as he tries to beat them back. His magic is the reason he’s wearing this suit, after all.

“Please turn left, Your Highness,” a soft voice says. Joochan doesn’t argue, just shifts in front of the mirror, and someone goes to work on his left pant leg.

Can’t show up looking sloppy today, not when he’s about to meet the princess his parents have promised him to for the rest of his life.

Joochan bites his lip hard, probably ruining the delicate lip stain applied to make his mouth appear softer, pinker, sweeter. Already he can see one servant frowning in disapproval as she dips a brush into the pink color before swiping it lightly back over his lips. She doesn’t say anything, but Joochan bows his head in apology regardless. It softens the tightness in her lips.

It seems Joochan can’t do anything without apologizing, really. Walking too loudly, biting his lip, breathing, living, being born…

He’ll probably do something and have to apologize to the princess today, too. Trip over her skirts, maybe, or spill his drink. He’s known to be clumsy, much more so than his brother Bomin (though in his defense, he never had the same lessons in posture and deportment that Bomin did, not after they erased his claim to the throne). At least this kind of thing is easier to apologize for than the reason they’re being married.

If Joochan wasn’t so cursed, after all, his parents wouldn’t be this eager to have him shipped off so early.

And he wouldn’t be stuck in this stupid suit.

A careless needle pricks the back of his shin. He flinches. Someone murmurs an apology and he ducks his head briefly in acknowledgement. A needle in his skin is less of an issue than his tiny breakfast threatening to make an appearance on the floor –

With effort, Joochan reins himself in. Just in time, too – the servants have finally stopped crouching around his feet and begun filtering out the door, leaving only Jaehyun behind to help him into the matching coat. “Ready?” he asks, settling the fabric over Joochan’s shoulders.

Joochan relaxes a little with the warmth in Jaehyun’s voice. He only ever speaks when they’re alone for fear of someone seeing him overstep his station (which would not end happily, especially if word reached his parents), but he’s still one of Joochan’s oldest friends in the palace and Joochan knows Jaehyun cares for him, feels it in the light touches, the subtle looks, the brief nods and smiles that the servant passes him when the time is right.

With only a handful of people whom Joochan can say truly know and care for him, he treasures every spot of comfort any of them can give.

“No,” Joochan replies honestly, shrugging his shoulders under the coat. He’ll have to take it off once he reaches the tearoom, what’s the point of putting it on in the first place? “You know I don’t want this. But…”

But a lot of things, all of which Jaehyun already knows.

Jaehyun’s lips turn in sympathy. “She’ll probably be nice,” he says, dreamy voice reassuring. “I mean, she’s Donghyun’s sister. Even if you haven’t met her yet, you know he wouldn’t speak so highly of someone he didn’t care for.”

Joochan swallows. Jaehyun has a point, the same point Joochan has made to calm himself many times over the past few weeks. “Yeah,” he breathes. “I hope so.”

Before Jaehyun can say any more, a knock sounds at the door, heavy and light all at once with an energy only Joochan’s personal guard can muster. “Time to go!” Jangjun calls through the stone.

Deep breaths. Joochan clenches his fist once. Lets go. Tries to relax himself as he stares at the door.

“Joochan?”

He blinks, registering Jaehyun’s concerned face. His lips tilt into a brief smile. As bad as this might be, at least he’ll have Bomin and Jangjun there, even if Jaehyun has to stay behind. Donghyun, too. Three friends out of four will have to be enough for today.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “I’m fine.” Reaching forward, Joochan opens the door to Jangjun’s carefully stoic face.

Jangjun raises an eyebrow at Joochan’s countenance but says nothing about it. “Ready, Your Highness?”

No.

“Yes.” Joochan bites the inside of his lip so as not to ruin the makeup again. “Let’s go.”

. . . . .

Joochan’s hands ache by the time his parents have had enough of his playing and Bomin’s voice, motioning for them to sit down and take some of the refreshment they’ve been nibbling at during the hour of music. He gladly does, settling himself on the soft chair as he nurses the tension in his forearm. His fingertips have hardened after years of playing the violin, but even after nearly two decades of playing the piano, his muscles still tense after he plays too long.

He looks to the side and his stomach flips unpleasantly, remembering why he’s here.

Donghyun’s sister sits next to him, eyes carefully fixed on the small plate placed in front of her. There isn’t much there – similar to Donghyun, then, in his bird-like appetite, unless it’s just nerves – and she doesn’t look up to face him, even when he almost meets her eyes.

Something curdles in Joochan’s stomach. She’s Donghyun’s sister and Donghyun is one of his good friends. If it were anyone else he’d been promised to, Joochan might be inclined to raise a bigger fuss, but the fact that she’s a member of Donghyun’s family keeps his lips tightly shut.

Bomin wordlessly passes him a plate of cookies. At a warning glance from his brother, Joochan takes one, breaking off a piece and putting it in his mouth. Sweet frosting crumbles between his teeth but all he tastes is sawdust.

At the other end of the table, Donghyun’s mother begins lavishing praise on Joochan’s and Bomin’s talents. She’s a sweet woman, to be sure – if Joochan were normal, he wouldn’t be so opposed to being her son-in-law – but all Joochan can think of as he gives thanks for her kind words is that his parents are forcing him to inflict his cursed little self onto Donghyun’s happy family just so they can be rid of him once and for all.

Well, it’s not as if they’re completely blameless either. The princess isn’t actually royal, just the orphaned daughter of high nobility whom the palace took in when she was young. A match like this is advantageous for them, too – the first prince of a powerful kingdom, even one passed over for the throne, is a good match indeed for one who doesn’t even have royal blood. Even the insult of marrying someone barren of magic can be overlooked.

Children are only pawns for their parents, pawns on a little chessboard where their parents play. They’ll forever be pawns until their parents die, and then they’ll become the players, using their own children as pawns in the new generation’s game of royal chess…

Joochan moodily stirs sugar into his tea. The silver spoon scrapes lightly at the bottom of the cup and he flinches slightly at the grating sound. If Donghyun’s parents knew the truth – hell, if Donghyun himself knew the truth – they probably wouldn’t be pushing this marriage so hard. They probably wouldn’t be pushing it at all.

Not for the first time, Joochan ponders the consequences of telling Donghyun or his sister the real story, the one where he isn’t devoid of magic. The one where he can sing, beautifully, even – it’s just that anything alive will drop dead after the first few bars of his song.

Well, except the grass beneath his balcony window. Joochan doesn’t know how it keeps growing, but he appreciates the effort.

Bomin pokes his side. Someone said his name.

Joochan looks up, almost spilling his tea. The cup rattles in the saucer and he winces, already feeling his mother’s subtle glare out of the corner of her carefully blank eye. “Yes?”

“Why don’t you take your fiancée for a walk in the gardens?” she asks. “Our gardens are always lovely on such a clear day.”

It’s a demand shaped as a question and Joochan doesn’t bother to dispute, only nodding briefly before taking his fiancée’s arm as they stand. “Of course.”

On his other side, Bomin makes a small fist in encouragement. Donghyun smiles from across the table. Joochan does his best to return the gestures before walking out of the tearoom with his fiancée – gods, he hates that title – on his arm, Jangjun following silently behind.

“Do you actually want a tour of the gardens?” Joochan asks when he’s sure they’re out of sight. Jangjun won’t say anything, and his parents probably don’t actually care where he really goes – they just want him away for a little, presumably to get to know his future wife. Bitterness fills his mouth – future wife – but he swallows it down. “We could go somewhere else, if you want. Anywhere, really.”

She only raises a curious eyebrow, jerking her head slightly towards Jangjun where he stands, a silent presence. Joochan understands her unspoken question and smiles, this time genuinely. “Jangjun won’t tell,” he says, glancing back at his guard. He receives a wink in response.

Something in the princess’s expression cracks with relief. Her lips curve, gaze turning brighter with careful amusement. “I almost thought you were going to be one of those suck-up princes,” she says, eyes cautiously teasing. “Thank you for proving me slightly wrong.”

Joochan raises an eyebrow. “Slightly?”

“Only time will tell the full truth.” She shrugs. Joochan appreciates her honesty. “And I wouldn’t mind seeing the gardens, actually, Your Highness. Your gardeners sing to the flowers, don’t they?” Her gaze turns curious.

“Please just call me Joochan, we’re of the same rank.” We’re going to be married soon, anyway. “And yes, they do,” Joochan confirms. It’s wondrous to watch them coax withered leaves into brightness, wilting petals into bloom, even if he himself will never be able to create such beauty. “The gardeners might be on their break right now, but if they are, I’ll see if you can listen to them sing before you leave next week.”

“Thank you.” She smiles, and in another body, in another universe, Joochan thinks he could have fallen in love with her. Donghyun’s sister seems bright for the most part – intelligent, kind, curious, with a pinch of much-appreciated mischief. Her dance was captivating earlier, and she certainly has the same appreciation for music that Joochan and Bomin do.

But Joochan would always have to hide around her, hide his song and his curse. For that reason, he can’t bring himself to contemplate even the notion of truly falling for someone around whom he’d always have to pretend to be a different person.

They walk quietly for a while, stopping under larger trees every so often to admire the flowers from the shade. She compliments his skill at violin and piano, and he admires her dance. Neither of them speaks of his supposed inability to sing. Joochan dutifully picks a small bouquet and presents it to her – all different types of tulips, her favorite (his are roses, but he doesn’t mention that) – and they keep making small conversation, all the while keeping an eye out for any gardeners tending to the blossoms.

It’s a good thing Joochan knows how to talk, because as the half hour mark ticks past, there hasn’t been a single gardener in sight. The grounds are large, of course, and many are probably still on their afternoon break, but words become harder and harder to find and Joochan is almost ready to suggest turning back when they round a corner to see a solitary figure bent over a bush of roses, softly singing to the blooms.

No matter how many times Joochan has listened to those with healing music breathe their magic into plants, the scene never grows old in his mind. Listening to your song, watching the pink roses unfurl their petals under the sunlight, Joochan almost forgets the lady on his arm. It doesn’t matter, anyway – Donghyun’s sister stands just as still as he, gaze fixed on the sight.

If only he could inspire such life.

Too soon, the song ends. Joochan blinks, clearing himself of the daze of your music, and Donghyun’s sister sighs softly at his side, eyes sparkling with rapture. He’s about to suggest quietly that they move on so as not to disturb you from your work, but you turn around first.

Joochan balks as your eyes widen, taking in his dyed pink hair just before you sink to one knee, respectfully bowing your head. “Your Highnesses,” you murmur softly.

Your spoken voice is as beautiful as your song.

“Please rise,” he replies, smiling. The ever-present ache in his heart seems to have relaxed slightly with the sound of your music. “We were only listening to your song. You sing beautifully.”

“You really do,” his fiancée echoes. “Wondrous.”

A flustered smile lifts the corners of your lips and you duck your head, bowing once more. “Thank you, Your Highnesses. I am honored at your praise.”

“Are you new?” Joochan asks on impulse. “I apologize, I just haven’t seen you around before. What is your name?”

You nod. “Yes, Your Highness. I only began work a few days ago. My name is Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N, I hope you have been properly welcomed into your employment.” Joochan smiles. “My fiancée and I should be going so we won’t disturb you further, but thank you for gracing us with your voice.”

The smile on your face grows wider. “The pleasure was all mine. Thank you for gracing me with your presence.”

Joochan turns away, Donghyun’s sister following on his arm. Grass rustles behind them as you presumably get back to work. “That was amazing,” she whispers, eyes still rapturous.

“I know.” Joochan shakes his head. “Every time I see it, I still can’t believe my eyes.”

They lapse into compatible silence once more, quietly admiring the flowers on all of their sides. Joochan peers at a new bush of roses, studying the white petals, when Donghyun’s sister stops beside him. He looks up. “Is something the matter?”

“Oh, no.” She smiles, pointing ahead at an empty patch of grass underneath a tall balcony.

Joochan’s heart freezes. How did he not realize they were coming through this way, under his own rooms?

Too late, he realizes Donghyun’s sister is waiting for a response. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I was just noticing that the garden was slightly empty up there.” She points again briefly. “Is there a reason for it?”

The lie, though bitter, falls quickly from his lips. “Oh, for some reason, things don’t seem to grow well over there other than the grass.” He shrugs, hoping his words don’t tremble. “The gardeners can’t figure out why. They’ve tried everything.”

His fiancée looks mystified, but she accepts the explanation without further questions. Silence falls again and stretches until they return to the tearoom, ready to face cautious siblings and eager parents once more.

. . . . .

“So?” Bomin raises an eyebrow as he and Joochan enter their shared hallway, pausing in front of his room. He looks around, but no one’s there. Jangjun got held up a couple minutes ago, and Bomin has carefully placed himself where no other guards will hear him if he speaks quietly. “What did you think of her?”

Joochan studies a crack in the stone wall. “She was nice. I liked her.”

Even without looking, Joochan can tell Bomin’s second eyebrow has risen. Why they don’t look strange against his brother’s ashy dyed hair, Joochan doesn’t know, but Bomin somehow looks good in everything. Even dark eyebrows against grey-white hair.

“Not in that way, though.”

Joochan doesn’t refute Bomin’s statement. His brother is even more perceptive than he despite his younger age – after so many years growing up alongside each other, Bomin picks up on Joochan’s nuances of language and action more easily than Joochan himself realizes. He just shrugs.

Bomin sighs. He doesn’t say anything, but one look at his carefully schooled expression reveals the apology coating his tongue. It doesn’t fall, of course, because Joochan told Bomin to stop apologizing years ago, but the impulse is still there.

Joochan almost smiles. At times like this, even Bomin isn’t so difficult to read. “It’s not your fault,” he says, words slipping off his tongue with deceptive ease.

“Still.” Bomin bites his lip, smudging the thin sheen of lip stain that’s somehow still there after the entire day. “I just…” He sighs. “I don’t know. I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.” As if to prove it, Joochan widens his lips into a smile and forces his eyes to crinkle in a way that sometimes (rarely) manages to fool his brother. “At least, I might be. In the future. You know.” His lips curl in mischief. “Might fall madly in love with Donghyun’s sister after she saves me from an assassin’s knife, like those –”

A hand covers Joochan’s mouth before he can go on. He smiles behind Bomin’s fingers anyway, a real smile, because Bomin’s ears are red and nothing delights Joochan more than flustering his younger brother.

“We don’t mention those books,” Bomin hisses, face flushed. “Right?”

Joochan licks his hand and laughs at his brother’s cry of disgust. “I didn’t mention them,” he teases, mouth free. “I only hinted.”

“I hate you.” The way Bomin’s hiding a smile, though, confirms that his words are just a lie. “You absolute insufferable menace. I’m going to suffocate you with a pillow.”

“That is, unless a brave princess saves me from my evil brother –”

Joochan dodges Bomin’s swipe, cackling, before skipping over to his door and darting inside. After a second, he pops his head back out. “Goodnight!”

A grumbled “goodnight” follows with the sound of a second closing door, and then Joochan is left to feel the smile slide off his lips as he faces the stone walls of his room.

Alone.

Joochan swallows, staring at the darkened night outside his windows. The stars glitter, moonlight just beginning to seep onto the cold floor.

Already he knows it will be a sleepless night.

He goes through the motions, answers the door to Jaehyun’s light knock and allows his servant to help him undress. Jaehyun doesn’t ask much – maybe Joochan’s expression isn’t as neutral as he thought – but squeezes his arm slightly before he heads back out, closing the door behind him with a low thud. Joochan blows out the lantern on his desk with a practiced puff of breath, crawls into bed, and closes his eyes even though he knows it won’t do anything.

Sure enough, when the palace clocks strike midnight, Joochan is still wide awake. He heaves a sigh, rolling over one more time in a last ditch effort to fall asleep.

No use.

Joochan swings his legs out of bed. Using the moonlight as a beacon, he feels his way over to his desk and picks up the violin and bow sitting on top of all of his books and music. He plays a few quick scales before settling the instrument more firmly beneath his chin and turning to the window.

He wants to sing. Aches to. The longer he stands by his desk, staring out the balcony, the more he feels the urge as though the moonlight itself tugs at his heart, the way it does to the tides.

So he does. The walls of his room are thick for a reason – if no one can hear him playing his violin so late at night, no one will hear his voice, either. He draws the bow over the strings, fingers plucking in practiced motions as he raises his voice with the highs and lows in a wordless melody, achingly beautiful even to his own ears, a song of sorrow and pain under the darkness of night.

When he finishes, he’s somehow migrated to the balcony window, staring out at the barren garden below. The hand holding his bow reaches out, touches the cool glass.

No one will be out so late, not tonight. In just four days, there will be a grand ball celebrating his engagement – everyone will be catching up on sleep tonight before three days of rapid preparation. Guards have never been posted under his balcony for safety reasons (their safety, not his – Joochan honestly thinks his parents would be fine if he dropped dead), and gardeners don’t work at night until they’re tending the night-blooming flowers, none of which are in this stretch of garden. So Joochan shifts the glass aside, letting in a cool breeze that rustles his abandoned blankets and ripples through his nightshirt, and steps into the night air.

Joochan raises the bow once more, bringing it to the strings as he lets his voice loose, singing to silent audience as he leans into the violin like a lifeline. His song carries in the soft breeze, fading beyond the trees, but Joochan doesn’t care if his song merely disappears into the air instead of echoing in a tearoom, in a shrine, in a concert hall. So long as he can convince himself there is an audience listening that isn’t just him, convince himself that people can hear and love his voice as he draws his bow over the violin strings, he will be content, at least in this moment.

His song begins a crescendo and he closes his eyes, sparkling stars and the waxing moon splashed like a mural across his eyelids. His throat strains to keep the melody and he reaches the highest note, slowly, slowly climbing back down as a smile spreads across his face –

The violin almost falls from his hands when a voice begins singing back.

Someone is singing back. Meaning – someone heard his song – and they are not dead and somehow singing back –

Joochan stumbles backward, almost falling into his room. He catches himself on the side of the balcony window, shoulder throbbing where he hit it against the stone, but he can’t even register the pain because someone is down there and heard him singing and gods, maybe they’re about to die and Joochan will have killed a second person in his short life, two people, two people too many –

The song continues. Softer, yes, but deliberately so, not weakened by a failing heart or incoming death. It continues, smooth like starshine, coaxing, beautiful…

It doesn’t stop.

Step by step, Joochan walks forward and peers over the balcony edge. In the moonlight, he catches a glimpse of roses beneath the stone platform – yes, roses, midnight blue roses of Joochan’s favorite variety that only blooms at night – blossoming under his balcony which means they somehow survived the curse of his voice.

And not just them.

Someone steps out from directly under the balcony into Joochan’s line of vision. A vaguely familiar figure with a vaguely familiar voice – no, not vaguely, an entirely memorable voice from just hours before –

Y/N.

Wide, shocked eyes meet Joochan’s directly in the moonlight, confirming his suspicions. His heart leaps into his throat and stays there as you stare at each other, a prince and a gardener, one with a cursed voice and the other seemingly unaffected by it – unaffected by it, which should be impossible –

Too late, Joochan remembers that his face is memorable if not for the fact that he is a member of royalty, then by his head of dyed pink hair. Which means you can recognize him. His feet stumble back into the room and he all but crashes into the side of the balcony before managing to shove the window in place. He nearly crushes his hand and violin between glass and stone before he slides to the floor, head thudding painfully against the stone wall.

You know.

You – a simple gardener, wholly new to the palace – know now from his stupid face and pink hair that he has a curse that wilts flowers and kills people and yet somehow – somehow your voice is strong enough to make withered roses bloom once more and even more importantly, somehow you didn’t die upon hearing his song.

Joochan doesn’t get a wink of sleep that night.

. . . . .

Jaehyun walks into Joochan’s room the next morning and upon seeing his face asks, “What happened to you?”

Joochan just groans and covers his face with a pillow. It’s day two of Donghyun’s family’s visit and he has to be up for meetings and showing his fiancée around and whatnot, but he knows he has to look like death after an entire night of racing thoughts and zero sleep. “Do I look that bad?”

In reply, Jaehyun goes and finds a small army of servants skilled in the underappreciated art of makeup who spend over an hour dispelling the gray from his skin and bringing back the slightest shade of color to his face.

It probably helps, at least somewhat. But even Jangjun, who normally can keep a neutral expression during the worst situations, makes a face when Joochan walks out the door. “Did you sleep at all last night?” he asks quietly as they set off down the hall.

“Some,” Joochan says truthfully. He did drift off sometime toward dawn. But there was less than an hour between then and Jaehyun waking him up again, so it doesn’t count for much.

Jangjun raises a disbelieving eyebrow but only follows Joochan down the hall to breakfast.

All day long, Joochan itches to run away. Not from the palace, not exactly (he’s been wanting to do that since he was a teenager, that’s nothing special), but to the garden grounds where he knows he has the best chance of finding you.

But of course there’s no time, no time at all. Immediately after breakfast he’s whisked off to Sungyoon for the morning lessons Joochan can barely pay attention to. Lunch is barely a moment in passing before Soojung takes him for his afternoon classes, then Jangjun is depositing him in front of the grand ballroom for a special partner dancing lesson with Donghyun’s sister because of course, at their engagement ball, they will be expected to dance. Together.

Joochan tries, he really does. He keeps his hands in place on his fiancée’s waist, doesn’t twitch when she puts her hand on his shoulder. He’s a fair dancer – of course Youngtaek will find areas to critique, but he’s literally a court musician and the dance instructor – but today he trips over skirts and feet and who can blame him when every unexplained sound is a knock at the door summoning him to his parents, who will then ask how he was so careless as to let a simple gardener learn his secret?

And then what would they do to you?

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes over and over to his fiancée as he finally walks out of the ballroom, Youngtaek sick of dealing with him for the day. “I’m sorry, I’m really so sorry about everything –”

“Relax, Your – Joochan. It’s fine,” she says, smiling lightly. He feels even worse – somehow, she can still muster the strength to give him a smile while he can’t even focus on an hour or two of dance. Dance is her magic, her calling, just as Joochan’s is his voice, and she’s already toning down her skill for him – why can’t he concentrate enough to respect that?

“Hey, I’m serious.” Her voice pulls Joochan out of his thoughts again. “Did you sleep at all last night? From what Donghyun said, it isn’t like you to act this way.”

A bitter laugh almost leaves Joochan’s lips but he swallows it away, opting to just sigh instead. “I sometimes have trouble sleeping.” It isn’t a lie. “Last night… was just a little worse than usual.”

She falls silent, then, lips turning down as she undoubtedly tries to process the meaning behind Joochan’s words. He panics. “It’s not – not anything to do with you!” Stupid, stupid, stupid! “I just – sometimes I start thinking and I can’t stop –”

“Joochan!” Two hands fall on his shoulders and Joochan shuts up as Donghyun’s sister stares him dead in the eyes. “Joochan, really. Calm down. It’s fine. You’re fine. I’m fine. Okay?” She smiles again. “One bad day doesn’t mean anything.”

He swallows. “Sorry.”

She waves his words away. “Stop apologizing, I already said it’s fine.” Her gaze is full of concern. “Maybe take some time to rest and relax this evening? I think you need it.”

This evening. Joochan blinks. There’s nothing planned for this evening, at least as far as he knows. Just dinner with Donghyun’s family, then nothing…

This might be the only time he can go to see you.

“Rest,” Joochan echoes. “Yeah.” He swallows, knowing full well he’ll be doing anything but that. “Thank you.”

. . . . .

The minute the excruciatingly long dinner is over and he’s excused himself to rest (even his parents don’t argue, which says a lot about his appearance), Joochan takes off down the halls, walking fast, fast, faster until he’s running –

“Your Highness!”

Why did he ever think he could outrun Jangjun?

Joochan stops because there’s no point in trying to leave his guard in the dust. Jangjun catches up quickly, barely panting, and fixes him with a stare. “Asshole,” he hisses, eyes crinkling with slight amusement. Then they turn serious. “Where are you going?”

Jangjun knows. When he was given the position of Joochan’s personal bodyguard, he was fully briefed on everything about Joochan, including his curse. Joochan trusts Bomin above all, but Jangjun is a close second. For this reason, he considers telling Jangjun the truth.

No. Joochan clenches his fist, nails biting into his palm. Not now, at least. He needs to clear this up first – it’s his fault, after all. He’ll only consider bringing Jangjun into this if things grow exponentially worse.

Hopefully, they won’t.

“The gardens,” Joochan says shortly. “Don’t follow me. Please.”

Jangjun’s eyes narrow. “You’re not being blackmailed, are you?”

“No!” Joochan shakes his head quickly. “No, not at all.”

“No secret meetings, no rendezvous with anyone other than the princess?”

Joochan groans, face turning pink. “No, Jangjun.”

“I’m following,” Jangjun decides. Joochan opens his mouth to argue, but his guard cuts him off. “I’ll stay far enough that I won’t hear what you say, if you end up saying anything. You won’t see me either. But if you think I’m going to leave you alone when you’re acting like this, you’re crazy.”

Well, it’s better than it could’ve been. Joochan nods tightly. “Fine.”

They exit the palace and Jangjun slips into the shadows, unseen even though Joochan knows he’s there. He tries not to sprint into the gardeners’ sheds, but he still gets there too fast.

One of his hands rises to knock on the door of the largest shed. He prays you’re inside.

A gardener – Joochan thinks his name is Seungmin – opens the door. Immediately his eyes widen and he swings the shed fully open, sinking down to one knee. “Your Highness.”

Joochan tries to peer around Seungmin into the shed, but a few large tables piled high with plants and tools block his vision. “Please rise,” he says quickly. “I’m sorry to interrupt you as you all are leaving for the night, but I just wanted to speak to one gardener. Privately. Um, their… their name is Y/N?”

Seungmin blinks. “Of course,” he says quickly, though his eyes burn with suppressed curiosity. He ducks back into the shed. “Y/N!”

“Just a moment!” you call back from further inside.

Panic rises in Joochan’s throat at the sound of your voice, so sweet and smooth and healing, everything his isn’t. What if you’ve already told someone? What if you run away just on seeing his face?

What if you’re afraid of him?

Footsteps pad on the floor of the shed and then you push past Seungmin, looking around in apprehension. Your eyes meet.

And you freeze.

Seungmin dithers by the door, looking unsure what to do. Joochan does his best to give him a smile. “Please leave us.”

He disappears into the shed. The door shuts.

Alone with you, Joochan is struck with two realizations.

One: you look about as haggard as he does. Which means you know or at least suspect something is up with him.

Two: he has no idea what he wants to say.

Oh, gods. Joochan fights the urge to bury his face in his hands. Why did he ever think this was a good idea? Why did he even think to try and find you? If he’d just left you alone, would you have just lost your suspicion naturally? Why did he confirm things by coming here? What does he do and what does he say?

You cut his thoughts off by dropping to your knees. Joochan steps back in shock.

“Please, Your Highness.” Your voice, previously so sweet and clear, now trembles with anxiety and fear. Joochan swallows, shame and repulsion building in his heart.

Since when did he learn to inspire such terror?

“I apologize.” Your words shake as you prostrate yourself on the ground. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been there, I shouldn’t have been trying to plant the flowers at night – I didn’t know, I won’t tell, I swear by all the gods –”

Joochan falls to his knees on impulse, reaching out towards you. You flinch away. Hurt blooms in Joochan’s chest but he lowers his hand – he is repulsive, after all, a prince marked by death itself. He shouldn’t be surprised you feel the same way as he thinks.

Even if it hurts.

“I’m not here to punish you,” Joochan says, voice surprisingly steady. “Not at all, I swear. I just –” he swallows – “I just need to know how much you know…?” He winces at the uncertainty in his tone. Even now, he still doesn’t know what to say. “Actually, is there a more private place where we can speak?”

Your eyes widen. Joochan balks. “No – I – I’m not trying to take you somewhere else where I can hurt you,” he frantically explains. “It’s just – I just –”

You cut him off by pointing to a small copse of trees. “There,” you suggest, still looking like your heart wants to beat out of your chest. “We can speak… there? Your Highness.”

Joochan almost holds out a hand for you to take before he remembers that would probably make you feel even more uncomfortable. Instead, he lowers his half-raised arm before standing and following you to the trees. “Thank you,” he mumbles.

Hidden in the foliage, you look a little more relaxed, as though in your natural element. Joochan envies how easily you shift between the trees. “Is there… something more you wanted to say to me, Your Highness?”

Your voice still shakes. Joochan tries not to cry. How can he convince you that he really has no intention to do you any harm, that he just needed to come and see for himself how much you knew?

He takes a deep breath. “Did you tell anyone?”

You shake your head vehemently. “Not a soul. And I was alone that night.”

Relief replaces a touch of the anxiety welling in his heart. “May I ask why you were there?”

“I just saw that that part of the garden was more or less empty,” you say. “I thought it would be nice to plant something there, and night-blooming roses are my favorite, so I…” You trail off. “I didn’t realize there was a reason for that. No one – no one told me I wasn’t supposed to be there –”

“It’s not your fault,” Joochan says automatically. “If no one told you, then you can’t be blamed. I’m at fault, mostly.” He looks down. “I shouldn’t have opened my window, I just didn’t think anyone would be outside that night.” A lump rises in his throat. “I can’t sing around most people, you know.”

Silence falls. Joochan starts to panic again. He said too much, definitely said too much – why did he even say that last bit, what was the point –

“Most?”

He lifts his head. “I’m sorry?”

“You said most people.” Your eyes brighten slightly with curiosity. “Are there any who can…?”

Joochan swallows as his earliest memory surfaces. His breath catches and he shoves the recollection away. “No, just you,” he whispers.

“Are you sure? It could just be that your magic only withers plants, I might not be –”

“It’s just you,” Joochan snaps.

Silence falls. Joochan takes a deep breath. He tries not to think of his disastrous first and only singing lesson but that just makes the image more vivid – his instructor’s smile freezing, legs buckling, hand coming up to clutch his heart as blood trickles from his lips –

“Your Highness?”

With effort, Joochan jerks himself out of his daze. He looks at his hands, almost expecting to see his instructor’s blood dripping rivulets down his palms, but there’s nothing. “I’m sorry,” he chokes hoarsely. “Please don’t press it. It’s just you.”

You bow your head. “I apologize.”

Quiet fills the air once more. Joochan is pretty sure the conversation is over. “I’m sorry for taking up your time when you were probably getting ready to go home.” He tries to smile. “I’ll leave you now, I know you must be tired after a long day. I apologize for any anxiety I have caused you. Just please, don’t tell anyone, because then I don’t know…” Panic crawls up his throat. “I don’t know what would happen to me or you.”

“Never.” You shake your head. “I’ll keep my silence. And I apologize for any anxiety I have caused you, Your Highness.” You look down. “I should have asked before deciding to do what I did. Speaking of… would you like the roses to be taken away? I could –”

“No!” Joochan flushes with his sudden outburst. Check yourself, Joochan. “No, please don’t,” he continues more softly. “I like them there, if you have the time to keep tending them.”

The small, genuine smile that creeps up your face nearly makes Joochan take a step back. Even as the sky grows darker, moonlight replacing the last rays of the sun, your eyes seem to glow in the deepening night, sparkling softly almost like the night-blooming roses you’ve planted beneath his balcony. “It’s my job, Your Highness.” You bow slightly. “I am honored to serve.”

Joochan feels a smile widen his lips slightly, glowing in the light of your own. “Thank you.”

. . . . .

The rest of the week comes and goes. Joochan puts on a blithe smile, escorts his fiancée anywhere they need to go, dances with her at the ball like a dutiful future husband. He tries to enjoy his time with Donghyun, who’s the only person from the delegation that he’s really happy to see, and when his family eventually leaves at the end of the week, there’s a little bit of genuine sadness at their departure.

It doesn’t match up to the utter relief at not having to pretend anymore, though.

So Joochan settles back into his normal life, deciding to make the most of the next few months alone without fiancées or future in laws, just his blood brother and two friends. His parents seem satisfied with how he conducted himself during his engagement bar the first couple of days, and Joochan slowly slips out of notice as their attention returns to Bomin’s upcoming kingship.

That’s one side effect of Joochan’s semi-exile from royal life that he doesn’t mind. The pressure of being the crown prince, having to act the perfect child even when he wants to do nothing but scream… sure, Joochan doesn’t actually scream when that happens (not until he can bury his face in his pillow, at least), but he has a little more freedom to act out than Bomin does.

Good thing Bomin has always been a good actor.

But with Bomin’s busy schedule, Joochan has less time to talk to him. And he has so much he wants to talk about – mostly about the marriage, yes, which still turns his stomach every time it’s mentioned, but also other things. Inane things. Stuff like how Soojung could be a little less sarcastic when he’s forgotten a math concept or how the flowers in the garden have begun to fully bloom.

More specifically, the flowers just under Joochan’s own balcony.

They’re growing well. Joochan doesn’t know how many nights you’ve spent tending to them over the past couple of weeks, but the bushes of midnight blue seem to be growing even faster than they usually do. The last time he took a walk through, the buds were just appearing. That was a week ago. He didn’t see you then. In fact, he hasn’t actually seen you since the night you two spoke.

Which is normal. Gardeners don’t usually interact with princes, and Joochan himself doesn’t spend as much time as he’d like walking through the grounds. Besides, not all gardeners have shifts at the same time. But Joochan kind of wishes he could hear your voice again, if only for your song to soothe his mind.

He doesn’t dare go out onto the balcony anymore, though. If you’re working on the roses, it’s entirely possible that someone else might be with you on any given night, singing to the blooms. The flowers would die. And just because you’re somehow immune to his song doesn’t mean anyone else will be.

Joochan does not want to test that out.

So he keeps singing to himself within the thick walls of his stony room to an audience of his furniture and books. He sings more often these nights – life feels a little more barren with a lack of Bomin’s presence and the knowledge of his marriage hanging over his head – but he won’t go out onto the balcony. Not again.

Until a bouquet of roses is delivered to his room.

Once every week or two, gardeners and servants switch out the flowers around the palace. Joochan likes to keep a vase on his desk, usually some variety of roses, and it’s always nice to see a new bouquet replacing the wilted flowers of the past week, their faint scent perfuming the air.

When he walks into his quarters after a long day to see a bunch of midnight blue roses streaked with white sitting on his desk, clustered in a delicate vase, Joochan doesn’t think much of it. He smiles a little – of all roses, the night-blooming ones are his favorite type – but they don’t seem to signify anything deeper until he sees a tiny piece of something white poking out from behind the petals.

It’s a bit of ripped paper. Eyebrows furrowed, Joochan unfolds it.

You are still welcome to sing, you know. No one comes with me - they all seem to think I have some magic touch.

Then, almost as an afterthought:

You have a beautiful voice.

The note isn’t signed, but only one person could have sent it.

Joochan’s chest tightens the longer he clutches the note. You sent him roses, roses from the bushes underneath his balcony – maybe you were even the one who placed the vase on his desk – and left a note, too, a note that welcomes him to sing during the night when you are there.

You have a beautiful voice.

His stomach flips when he reads the line again, but not in the same way it always flips at the mention of his engagement. It feels lighter, sweeter, nervous but almost playful.

It feels nice.

But he still doesn’t dare go onto the balcony and start singing unannounced, so that night, he heads to the garden instead of standing above. Jangjun doesn’t stand guard at night, and it’s much easier to get past the night guard than to get past him. He waits by the rose bushes nervously, knowing there will be many questions if someone somehow catches him.

You appear after the moon has risen. From the way you start, Joochan gathers you didn’t expect him to actually be here on the grass, waiting for you on land instead of on his balcony above. Still, you take it in stride, bowing low as you approach. “Your Highness.”

“Y/N.” He nods slightly. “Thank you for the flowers.”

At that, you smile. “I thought you might like them.”

“I did, very much.” Joochan looks away, fiddling with his shirt sleeves. “I… saw your note. I appreciated that too.”

Your smile grows more hesitant, but it doesn’t disappear. “I apologize if I was too forward, Your Highness.” You swallow visibly. “It’s just that… forgive me for my presumption. I couldn’t live without my song. I can’t imagine how it feels for you.”

Pain, a pain that cuts even deeper than Bomin’s ability to heal. It can be soothed by another’s song, but only singing himself can truly heal it. Joochan barely knows how to describe the feeling – it’s been present ever since he can remember. But he doesn’t say any of that. “Thank you for your sympathy,” he says, trying to smile. “And for trying to understand.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Your smile heals Joochan almost as much as your song.

The conversation lapses into silence, then. You turn to the flowering bushes, pruning some of the longer tendrils and singing softly to the growing buds that have begun to open slightly under the influence of your magic. Joochan sits down against the palace wall and closes his eyes, listening to your soft melodies fill the air –

“I gave you the note with the intention of you singing, Your Highness.”

Joochan’s eyes fly open to see you looking at him, a teasing smile lifting the corners of your mouth. “You came here to sing, didn’t you?”

“But the roses,” he protests. “They’ll die.”

“And I can bring them back,” you counter. “Sing, Your Highness.” Your gaze softens. “It will help.”

Joochan doesn’t know how you know his pain, or even a semblance of it. Your magic heals, doesn’t kill – that means something else must have happened for you to understand a fraction of what he feels. Somehow you do know, though, and Joochan feels more compelled to listen to you than his own doubts when you say that it will help.

He leans back again and hums a brief melody, warming up his throat. Immediately the leaves closest to him begin to shrivel at the edges and he almost stops, but you hum a bar of your own, perfectly mixing your voice with Joochan’s song. You nod, still clipping leaves, and Joochan continues with your encouragement.

The song starts and finishes quietly, Joochan not wanting to disrupt your work too much, but his heart feels lighter by the time he closes his mouth around the last bars. The roses look no worse for wear – your soft humming, barely audible beneath Joochan’s quiet song, seems to have sustained them – and you wear a soft smile on your face that fairly glows under the moonlight. “That was beautiful,” you praise.

Joochan feels blood rush up to his ears. “Thank you, but I never had any formal training,” he says, dipping his head. “I’m nowhere near your level.”

“I know.” Your eyes twinkle when he looks over at you in surprised confusion. “I can tell you haven’t had lessons. It’s something in…” You pause, contemplating a rose. “Something in your technique. It’s a little lacking.” You look up from the bloom. “But regardless, your voice has a very raw power. That can’t be learned. If you had any training at all, I think you might sing as well as your brother, Your Highness.”

“You’ve heard him sing?” Joochan tries not to feel jealous.

You hum a short melody to a bud, which eagerly responds to your song. “Once or twice, at festivals.” Your gaze turns to him, still teasing. “I watched you play your instruments at those same festivals too, you know.”

Joochan flushes again. Was he that obvious?

From the glint in your eye and the restrained smile on your lips, the answer is yes. Thankfully, you don’t push it. “Would you sing again?” you ask instead. “Your voice truly is wonderful, Your Highness.”

Courage bursts in Joochan’s chest and he opens his mouth. “Will you teach me to sing?”

You blink. “You already know how to sing? Your Highness.”

“You said my technique was lacking.” Joochan plays with several blades of grass nervously. “Could you give me pointers? Or at least tell me what you think is the problem?”

“I – Your Highness, I’m not a professional.” Moonlight shines on your face, uncertainty now painted across your lips. “I mean – I just – I don’t want to say anything wrong –”

“If you really don’t want to, you don’t have to,” Joochan cuts in, already feeling regret for asking. His fingers wrap around a blade of grass. It comes away in his hand. “But…”

You cock your head, listening cautiously.

His voice grows small. “You’re the only one who can listen to me without dying.”

Silence falls after his admission. Joochan doesn’t dare look at you for fear of pity or rejection in your eyes.

“I… will try.” You meet Joochan’s wide eyes, uncertainty still present in your own. “I mean, I’ll do it, Your Highness.”

Joochan almost reaches out to touch your arm, touch your hand, anything in thanks, but he restrains himself. You’re already probably uncomfortable enough. “If you really don’t want to, I won’t force you,” he repeats, despite the hope filling his chest.

“No, I want to.” Uncertainty fades in favor of a gentle smile. “I’ll do it, Your Highness.”

“Thank you,” Joochan breathes. “Thank you so much.”

“It is my honor,” you reply, dipping your head. When you raise it, there’s a twinkle in your eye. “Now sing, yes? I can’t critique you without a song.”

Joochan has never opened his mouth faster.

. . . . .

With you so uncertain, Joochan wasn’t honestly expecting too much from you as a vocal instructor. You seemed so hesitant about the whole affair – he only really hoped for a few basic tips every now and then. Maybe, as he just got more used to singing, he would get better naturally.

But that first night, you give him a lesson, a whole lesson like the ones his paid instructors give. Open your mouth a little more, Your Highness, close it here. Hey, try a falsetto – see, it sounds much better like that, right? Don’t strain your throat too much, Your Highness. Your voice doesn’t only come from the throat, it comes from the body. Use your chest – yes, that’s it. You’ll have to practice this more on your own, but don’t be discouraged if you don’t get it in one night. It took me weeks to master it.

You’re a good teacher. Really good. Joochan would even hazard to say you’re better than some of the royal tutors and instructors he’s had over the years, and by the time the moon has fully risen and you decide it’s been long enough, Joochan feels like he’s soaring among the stars.

“Remember to practice,” you remind him before you part that night. “I may be the instructor, but it’s your voice.”

He does. Night after night, on those evenings he doesn’t steal away to the gardens to meet with you, Joochan runs through his scales and the vocal exercises you gave him the last time. He scribbles notes, questions, reminders on scraps of paper that he hides in his drawers but shows you on those lovely nights under the moon and stars, singing for you and the roses to hear.

“You’re dedicated,” you say one evening, smiling. “If I were a full-time instructor, I think I’d be blessed to have you as a student, Your Highness.”

Joochan colors at your praise. It makes him feel like one of the roses you tend, blossoming under the sound of your warm voice. “I have a good teacher,” he replies, focusing hard on one of the blooms to avoid your eyes. It’s fully open, silky petals spread wide under the moon. Little stripes of white sparkle like stars on the midnight blue. “How are you so good at this? Who taught you?”

For several seconds, you don’t reply. It’s long enough that Joochan looks up, heart beating uncertainly in his chest. Did he say something wrong? “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer if it’s not something –”

“No, it’s okay.” You swallow, not even noticing you interrupted him (the first time you did, Joochan had to reassure you over and over that it was completely fine). Joochan stays still as your lips thin, eyes trained on the bud you’ve been coaxing open. “My father taught me.”

Your father. From the forced flatness in your tone, Joochan gathers there’s something more behind your words. He stays silent, waiting to see if you’ll continue.

You do. “My mother died giving birth to me, so it was just me and my father for as long as I can remember.” Your smile doesn’t look like a smile, more of a pained gash across your face. Involuntarily, Joochan shudders. “He was a real vocal instructor. Taught me most of what I know of healing, and all that I know of singing.”

Snip. Joochan flinches as a leaf goes fluttering to the ground, cut off by your shears.

“He died when I was eighteen,” you say bluntly, shears held in a vice grip. “Without him, I came to the capital to… you know. Try my luck. I was always a better gardener than a physical healer, so I worked at some of the noble estates before someone recommended me here.”

So that’s the pain. Joochan clenches his fist. That’s the pain that helped you understand even vaguely how he feels, unable to release his song. Different types of pain, yes, but similar in intensity.

He tries to imagine what it would be like to lose Bomin, Jangjun, Jaehyun. Knives seem to dig into his chest.

Your pain is probably even more intense.

“And, well.” Your voice interrupts Joochan’s thoughts. He looks up as you shrug, smile sardonic. “Here I am.”

Joochan swallows, picking at the grass. He knows how empty his words will sound before he even says them. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, it wasn’t your fault.” Your smile is understanding, though, even in its sadness. A bit of a teasing tone finds its way into your voice. “You sure apologize a lot, don’t you, Your Highness?”

Hearing the mischief in your words, Joochan would normally feel a smile beginning to creep up his own face. This time, though, a little needle wedges itself into his ribs, deep enough to wound even if not enough to kill.

You’re right. He does apologize a lot. It’s kind of hard to stop when he’s been made to apologize for his entire existence.

“I apologize.”

Joochan looks up at your words. You hold his gaze, unflinching. “I apologize,” you repeat again. “I assumed a level of familiarity that we haven’t reached yet.” This time, you look away. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s not –” Joochan swallows. “It’s not about familiarity. It’s… other things.”

He catches the exact moment your eyes widen, the exact moment you understand. Your mouth twists and you look away again, though Joochan sees shame in the thin press of your lips. “I understand,” you reply softly. “I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

“It isn’t your fault,” he says automatically, the same way he does to Bomin. The words leave a bitter aftertaste – it never gets easier, absolving people of blame they never even incurred. His mind searches for a way to change the topic. He’s good at that. “As for familiarity…”

You raise an eyebrow. “Hm?”

An idea pops into his thoughts, an idea he’s been toying with for a while but that he was too shy to suggest. “Don’t call me Your Highness anymore,” he says boldly. “Just call me Joochan.”

It takes a moment for you to process, but then you scoff. “You’re funny, Your Highness.”

“Joochan.”

“Your Highness.”

Unconsciously, he pouts. “You were the one who brought up the topic of familiarity,” he points out. “Shouldn’t you be happy about this?”

“Ever heard of too much of a good thing?” you retort, putting down your shears. “Too much familiarity won’t mean good things for either me or you, Your Highness.”

“Joochan,” he corrects. “And does that mean you think us being familiar is a good thing?”

You groan. “Walked right into that one,” you mutter. Joochan grins, but you’re not done. “Your Highness, there’s a level of respect I have to maintain for you and your position. I’m sorry, but me calling you by your given name is not something I see myself doing in the foreseeable future.”

Joochan’s pout deepens. “We’ll see about that.”

“Is that a challenge, Your Highness?”

“And if it is?”

You pinch a bud between your fingers, scrutinizing it under the moonlight. Your head turns just slightly so Joochan can see the twinkle in your eye. “Then, Your Highness, I’m afraid you’ll be fighting a losing battle.”

. . . . .

Joochan thinks you might have underestimated his stubbornness.

“Your Highness, don’t you have better things to be doing than bothering me all night?” you ask, pausing in your humming to face him. “Royal duties and whatnot? Or, I don’t know – sleeping?”

“I feel like we’re becoming more familiar even if you refuse to call me by my name,” Joochan says obnoxiously. “What happened to propriety? Speaking respectfully to a prince?”

You pat some soil into place. A few nearby blades of grass seem to perk up when you hum briefly. “Calling you by your title is about the last mark of respect I’m still giving you,” you point out. “Do you really want that taken away, too?”

“Why not just let it go, if we’re already that far?” he counters. “Jaehyun calls me by my name when we’re alone. So does Jangjun.”

“Jaehyun…” You frown, then snap your fingers. “Is he that servant? You know, the puppy-eyed one?”

Joochan blinks. Jaehyun does have large eyes like those of a puppy. “… Yes? I think so.”

You look sidelong at Joochan. “If it helps, I like your eyes too, Your Highness.” Your gaze narrows teasingly. “They’re sharper. Like a fox.”

Joochan’s cheeks burn. “What –”

You burst into a peal of laughter. “Work on not pouting when you want attention,” you say, grinning.

Too late, Joochan realizes his lips have unconsciously turned downwards into a pout. He lifts them immediately, cursing internally – no wonder he’s so easy to read. “Don’t change the subject,” he says, catching himself again before the corners of his lips fall. “Why can’t you just call me by my name like Jangjun and Jaehyun?”

“You’ve likely known them far longer than I’ve known you and you’ve known me, Your Highness.” You put down your small shovel. “It makes perfect sense that you could convince them to bow to your whims, if you’ve been friends for as long as you say.”

Joochan gives up on suppressing his pout. “It’s not a whim,” he says. “I really do want you to call me Joochan.”

“Be that as it may, it isn’t proper, Your Highness, and I’d rather not get scolded for accidentally calling you by something above my station on accident.” Your eyes narrow. “Actually, is something wrong, Your Highness?” you ask, the teasing bite fading out of your voice. “You aren’t usually this forward about just your name.”

Something tightens in Joochan’s chest. He knows you’re perceptive, has known it ever since you rooted out that little bit of jealousy at the mention of Bomin’s singing, but as admirable as it is, he sometimes wishes you couldn’t read him so easily. “What, you don’t like it?”

“You’re deflecting.” Leaning forward, you fix him with your gaze. “What’s bothering you, Your Highness?”

Lots of things. There are only a few months until Donghyun’s family comes back for the second round of forced courtship. His parents are giving him more unwanted attention – asking about his studies in their cold, uninterested voices, reminding him of his duties every time his lip so much as twitches in rebellion.

And earlier in the day, he had the first fitting for his wedding clothes.

Joochan shudders, remembering white silk sliding over his arms, pins poking all over his body as the fabric tightened against his skin, smooth, cold, cloying around his throat and shoulders and torso. It was only the shirt for today – there are still the pants and coat and jewelry, not to mention different hairstyles and makeup combinations to try, all so his parents can get him out of the palace once and for all – and just thinking of how much there is left to do makes Joochan want to throw up.

“Your Highness?”

Your voice, full of concern, brings Joochan back to earth. “Sorry.” He blinks the memories out of his eyes. Gods, he has another fitting in a week, even though the wedding is still months away. “I – yes. Some things are bothering me.” He curves his lips into the imitation of a smile. “I’ll be fine, though, if you would just stop being stubborn and call me by my name.”

By the look in your eyes, you don’t believe him, but thankfully you don’t push it any further. “I’m the stubborn one?” You scoff lightly. “Who’s the one who’s been pressuring me to stop using your title this whole time? I didn’t bring it up.”

“Please?” Joochan asks, making sure to pout as fully as he can. “Please?”

Something breaks in your expression and you shake your head, suppressing a smile. Joochan’s heart lifts in victory –

“No.”

His jaw drops. “You –”

“I’m kidding.” You turn back to him, eyes sparkling. “If it really will make you happier, I’ll stop calling you by your title, Your –” You catch yourself. “Joochan.”

Something bursts in Joochan’s heart when he hears his name from your voice, sweet, clear, songlike in the melody of your tones. A rose in bloom, perhaps, petals unfurling from the bud at his name on your lips…

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” His words tremble slightly despite his attempted bravado.

You smirk. “Almost sounds like it was harder for you, Joochan.”

Damn your perception. “Am I going to regret this?”

Your smirk deepens. “Whatever happens, just know you brought it on yourself.”

. . . . .

“You look happier,” Bomin remarks one afternoon.

Joochan looks over. “Do I?”

“Yeah.” His brother nods. “There’s more… something.” Bomin waves his hands around aimlessly. “Something in your face. And in the way you walk.”

“Something.” Joochan snorts. “Is that what all of those literature and speech lessons are teaching you to say?”

“Shut up,” Bomin snips, pushing him away. His gaze turns more serious. “I’m glad.”

Joochan blinks. “Glad about what?”

“You being happy.” Bomin smiles. “Did Donghyun’s sister finally win you over?” He shoves his face into Joochan’s. “Exchanging romantic letters?”

The grin freezes on Joochan’s face as visions of you flash through his mind. Dark nights, pale moonlight, stars shimmering on your eyes and hands as you hum a melody that twines with his, keeping the roses in a delicate balance between alive and withering away…

He could tell Bomin. His brother is a secret-keeper to the last and knows how to act. But something tells Joochan that he would disapprove is he said anything, and even if that wasn’t the case, there’s a selfish desire to keep you to himself.

Joochan doesn’t want to share this… whatever it is, between you and him.

“Something like that,” he lies.

And for some reason, Bomin looks like he believes it.

. . . . .

Except, apparently, he doesn’t.

. . . . .

There is no moon when Joochan steps onto the balcony, peering over the edge to see whether or not you’re there, pruning the bushes. You don’t often come out during new moons – something about the absence of light not inspiring your song – but Joochan checks anyway.

To his surprise, he sees a sliver of movement, a flash of metal just beyond the balcony that looks like your shovel or your shears. It doesn’t take long for Joochan to sneak out of his room and into the garden grounds, a smile on his face as he rounds a corner to see –

“Joochan.”

Jangjun?

His guard steps forward, arms crossed and eyes visibly narrowed even in the darkness. Starlight shines coldly on his face. “Who are you meeting out here every other night?”

Stall? Lie? Joochan keeps his mouth resolutely shut as his mind races for something to say. He can’t mention you, can’t bring you into this mess that you never asked for, but Jangjun has known him for so long and might even be more perceptive than you so what kind of lie will even sound believable when Joochan is right here in the garden like he was expecting someone –

Jangjun’s eyes widen with realization and Joochan’s stomach plummets. “You’re meeting that gardener. The one you were talking with when Donghyun’s sister was here.”

Joochan just stares. How did he figure it out so fast?

“Tell me it isn’t true, Joochan.” Jangjun steps forward, lips pursed. Any sign of his usual mischief has fled from his eyes. “Joochan.”

He stays silent.

“Gods.” Jangjun rubs his temples, the metal of his arm guards catching the faint starlight. Damn, that was what fooled him. “Joochan, seriously? What are you doing with them? You weren’t lying before, right – they’re not blackmailing you or anything?”

Joochan ignores all of his guard’s questions in favor of his own. “How did you know I was sneaking out?”

Jangjun sighs. “I don’t know why you still sometimes think you can lie to Bomin.”

Bomin?

A conversation from two weeks before flutters into Joochan’s mind.

“Did Donghyun’s sister finally win you over? Exchanging romantic letters?”

“Something like that.”

Bomin. Joochan shuts his eyes tight and takes a deep breath, trying to dissipate the flames of anger beginning to lick in his chest. Of course it was Bomin. Bomin sees through everything.

And right now, Joochan hates that.

“So Bomin sent you to figure out what was going on with me.” He laughs, short, bitter. “Even though he said I was happier, he still –”

“You lied to him, Joochan,” Jangjun cuts in. “You never lie to him and he never lies to you.”

“So maybe I lied for a reason!” Joochan snaps. “Seriously – why is it that you can’t just leave me alone like my parents –”

“Because we care about you!”

“Then why are you trying to cut off the reason I’ve been happy?”

Silence follows his outburst. Jangjun actually takes a small step back. Joochan clenches his fist and takes a deep breath. Calm down.

He closes his eyes. Breathes. Opens them again. “So what are you going to do now?” he snaps. “Report to Bomin about my actions? Report to my parents?”

“Joochan –”

“Actually, don’t.” He scoffs. “I’ll go talk to Bomin myself. And Jangjun, even if you won’t leave me alone about this, listen to me on one thing.” Joochan steps forward. “Do not bring Y/N into this.”

With that, he turns on his heel and storms back into the palace.

. . . . .

Bomin’s attendant, Sanha, opens the door with a confused expression. “Your Highness?”

“Where’s Bomin?” Joochan demands, brushing past.

His brother pops out from behind one of the doors, eyebrows furrowed. “Joochan?”

Joochan bites his tongue to keep from shouting right then and there. “Dismissed,” he says bluntly, barely returning Sanha’s low bow. The door shuts.

And Joochan snaps.

“You sent my own guard to spy on me?” he yells. “With all the spies our parents have in the palace, you seriously sent Jangjun after me – my literal guard and one of the few people I trust – because you thought I told one lie?”

“I was worried!” Bomin says, eyes wide. “Joochan, you never lie to me –”

“Don’t tell me that’s it,” Joochan snarls. “There’s no way this is the only time you’ve ever thought I lied – if you sent Jangjun after me every time –” his eyes narrow – “unless you did –”

Bomin shakes his head wildly. “No! It’s just – I’m worried about with you and Donghyun’s sister!” He steps forward, eyes pleading. “Joochan, if your marriage doesn’t go through –”

Joochan laughs into his hand. “You too?”

“… What?”

“It’s always my marriage, my stupid marriage,” he rants, voice rising. Thank the gods for thick stone walls. “Has anyone ever considered that I don’t want it, I don’t fucking want it –”

“It’s your escape, Joochan!” Bomin snaps. “It’s your ticket out of this palace, so you can be free from –”

“From what?” Joochan laughs, high and mirthless. “From what?”

“From us!”

“And you’d have me gain my freedom by forcing me from one prison to another?”

Bomin’s mouth snaps shut.

“I can’t do anything because I have this stupid curse,” Joochan snarls. “I’m the unwanted son – don’t argue with me, you know it’s true – it doesn’t matter that I’m the oldest, I’ve literally been passed over for the crown because of it! And I don’t even care about that – all I fucking care about is being able to sing and of course I can’t do that either because people will drop dead half a second after I open my mouth – remember my first voice instructor? You think that’ll change once I get married? You think that’ll change?” He scoffs. “Donghyun and his family don’t know for a reason! And even if they did, it wouldn’t matter because singing around them would make them drop dead too!”

Tears have begun to burn in Joochan’s eyes. He blinks furiously, trying to keep them at bay, but months of pent-up rage and anger only make them push harder. Bomin’s eyes shine – they look watery, too – but Joochan turns away with thinned lips. He doesn’t have the energy to apologize to his brother, much less comfort him. It isn’t even his turn to be comforted.

“You don’t understand,” Joochan manages when the silence has grown too thick. “I love you, Bomin, and I know you love me too, but just like I’ll never understand the pressures of being the crown prince, you won’t understand what it’s like not to be able to sing.” He swallows. “You couldn’t even heal that sort of pain. And just when I’ve found someone who can listen…”

When Bomin sucks in a breath, Joochan realizes what he’s said. He panics, mind scrambling for a way to cover up his slip of the tongue – Joochan, you absolute idiot –

But it’s already too late to take anything back.

“You – someone can listen to your song?” Bomin whispers, almost as though he can’t believe it. “How…?”

Joochan groans, putting his head against the wall. Why can’t he do anything right? “It was an accident,” he says shortly, brushing away the stray tears that have fallen.

“But how –”

“Don’t ask me about it,” Joochan snaps, whirling around. His previous anger comes back in full force – not anger at Bomin, at least not as much, more anger at himself for not controlling his mouth, but it’s easier to direct it at his brother. “And don’t send my own guard after me for any more answers. If you think I’m lying, say it to my face, Bomin.”

Before his brother can say another word, Joochan throws open the door and stalks out.

. . . . .

Joochan doesn’t know what to do about you.

Well, there isn’t anything to do about you, per se. He just doesn’t know how to convey that he let things slip and now both Jangjun and his brother have more knowledge than they need, and maybe you two should hold off meeting for a little while.

You aren’t supposed to come around for a few days or so – you and Joochan have worked out a rough sort of schedule based on when the roses need tending and how often he wants a singing lesson – which should give him a few days to work something out. Instead, all he uses the time for is to sulk.

He’s still annoyed at both Jangjun and Bomin. More so at his brother because Jangjun has less leeway when given orders (which were given by Bomin in the first place), but still both of them. Bomin stays quiet when Joochan is near and Jangjun doesn’t even attempt conversation, though Joochan catches him staring over sometimes with a strange look on his face. He doesn’t bother to question it.

By the time night has begun to fall on day three, Joochan still has nothing. He debated going to the sheds and trying to find you there, but that would draw attention from anyone else who happened to be present, and also Jangjun never leaves his side. He tried to catch you in the gardens on the off chance that Jangjun isn’t looking, but you seem to disappear when he’s there – it’s like you magically end up on the opposite side of the palace grounds when he’s looking for you on the other.

In the end, all Joochan has is a rolled up piece of paper and a long piece of string that he hopes will reach the garden from his balcony. He hopes you can read. It’s not that uncommon anymore for commoners anymore, but there are still some. You were the one who wrote him that first note, though, so he isn’t too worried about that.

He’s more worried you’ll be angry with him.

Night comes. You appear at the end of the garden. Joochan waits on the balcony, heart ready to beat out of his chest, and sings a brief note when you get closer.

You look up. The waxing moon glows on your face.

Swallowing, Joochan waves a hand in the air, the hand holding the rolled up note attached to the string. He walks to the edge of the balcony and lets it drop.

The string tenses slightly, then goes lax. You’ve pulled it off and are hopefully reading it. His explanation, his apologies, his understanding if you don’t want anything to do with him anymore out of fear of your own safety…

Nothing happens. Joochan’s heart keeps pounding. You make no sound, no indication that you read anything he wrote –

Then the first bars of a song wisp through the air. Your voice flutters up to the balcony, soft and warm and inviting, singing words of forgiveness, melody soothing to his ears. It’s a little thin, laid slightly bare from the distance separating you, but Joochan latches onto the notes, sitting against the balcony rail and closing his eyes to the sound of your voice.

Your song tapers away eventually. Joochan swallows around a lump in his throat when it ends, fully expecting you to pack up your things and go once you’ve finished tending to the roses (it shouldn’t take as long as usual today since he’s not singing), but the ensuing silence almost has an expectant quality to it.

Like you’re waiting for something in reply.

Joochan clears the lump from his throat. Opens his mouth. Begins to hum softly to wake up his voice, then starts singing back.

It’s strange, not hearing your voice meld with his. You must be humming a little to keep the roses alive, but from his balcony, Joochan can’t hear it. After so many nights of singing duets with you, changing your melodies to fit the other’s, it feels a little strange to listen to himself sing like this in the open air. But he continues until the end of what he has, voice fading into the night.

A beat of silence follows. Then you begin singing again, but it’s a familiar melody this time – one of those that you like to use as a starting point for Joochan to follow, letting your voices twist and harmonize until you’ve created something new together, something fleeting but beautiful in its improvisation.

“You won’t remember the melody afterwards,” you say, cutting off a branch. “But you’ll remember the feeling, and sometimes that’s more important. Music is about making people feel, after all.”

Feeling. Joochan feels a lot, day by day. It’s part of being human. Tonight, singing an ephemeral melody with you…

He feels at peace.

. . . . .

Weeks pass. Joochan tries to live on his biweekly duets on the balcony with you. It won’t fill the void of not being able to talk to you – it’s just more natural to moderate the volume of his song, whereas calling down from a balcony would be more of a hassle – but it’s enough to hear your voice. Or so Joochan tries to tell himself.

(You sometimes leave him notes with the new flower replacements, white paper nestled between dark green thorns and midnight blue petals. Joochan puts them in the box under his mattress where he keeps his most treasured belongings and threads a hair between the lock to make sure no one gets in.)

Jangjun apologizes. So does Bomin. Joochan accepts it – he can’t stay too upset at them for long – and they go back to normal, Jangjun snickering whenever Joochan trips over a rock, Bomin suffering through Joochan pinching his cheeks whenever he so pleases.

Yeah. Normal.

Until weeks have somehow flown by and Donghyun’s family is arriving at the palace gates once more for the second stage of courtship.

They arrive late in the night, so Joochan thankfully isn’t required to be awake to receive them. Their meeting will be at dinner the next day, giving the entourage more than enough time to freshen up, which just means Joochan has more hours to sit on the floor of his rooms after lessons and stare at nothing while he waits for his impending doom.

He knows he’s being dramatic. But he also knows that he really, really, really doesn’t want to go through with this marriage, even more so than before.

His gaze lights on the latest bouquet of flowers sitting on his desk. The roses are white this time, interspersed with light pink blooms. You probably didn’t choose them – there was no note – but they’re pretty, anyway, even if they aren’t the night-blooming roses growing under Joochan’s balcony.

Joochan walks over to the flowers. Contemplates them for a moment. Picks up one of the white roses, imagines it in his fiancée’s hands as she walks down the aisle…

Thankfully, a knock sounds on his door before he has enough time to imagine more. Getting overly dressed for dinner is preferable to locking himself within his mind.

But then dinner actually comes.

And Joochan literally does not know what to do with himself.

His parents keep up chatter at the other end of the table, of course, all polite greetings and inquiries about the trip and we hope your quarters have been to your liking despite the fact that Donghyun’s family stayed in the exact same set of rooms last time they came and liked them just as much back then. Not to mention that said rooms are the fanciest guest rooms in the entire palace. If they weren’t satisfied, Joochan doesn’t know what would work for them.

Meanwhile, at his end of the table, Joochan is trying very hard not to make so much as a single noise against his plate or cup because if he does, everyone will look at him and he’ll be forced to break the awkward silence.

It’s even worse than the first time. At least then, Donghyun was still smiling, and his sister attempted conversation with Joochan. Bomin was fairly able to put people at ease when even Joochan’s social tendencies failed. But now there’s a tense set to Donghyun’s jaw, a burning anger in his sister’s eyes, and Joochan can’t think of anything he might’ve done wrong considering he hasn’t seen them in months. He’s sent letters to both and acted (at least outwardly) like he was fine with this arrangement. He hasn’t done anything to his parents’ knowledge that would indicate he’s opposed to it – he knows that because if he had, he would’ve gotten a scolding and maybe something worse –

Joochan winces as an old scar on his back suddenly twitches with pain. Bomin looks over, concerned, but Joochan quickly schools his face back to neutrality. Damn the memories.

“Is anything not to your liking?” Bomin asks quietly, bravely breaking the silence. His gaze flits uncertainly between Donghyun and his sister.

Both of them blink in tandem. Donghyun’s face relaxes a little and some of the anger fades from his sister’s eyes, their lips upturning slightly in sheepish surprise. “No, not at all,” his sister replies. “I apologize. The trip was long, and some of our nerves are… frayed.”

Judging from the shadow that passes through Donghyun’s eyes, “frayed” is a weak way to put it.

The silence, lifts though, and they converse more normally after that. Joochan catches a flicker of relief in his father’s eyes when they meet for the briefest moment, and even his mother gives a tiny nod of approval when the excruciating meal is finally over.

Everyone splits off, then, to do whatever they have in their plans for the night. Joochan and Bomin take a walk in the garden. Donghyun and his sister disappear to who-knows-where. It’s peaceful. More or less.

Until Joochan and Bomin are returning (they didn’t see you) to their quarters for bed and they happen to pass by the guest rooms, where shouts echo faintly behind closed doors. With unspoken agreement, the brothers start walking quickly down the hall, trying not to listen to what the other pair of siblings is saying.

Then a door flies open and catches Joochan in the face as his fiancée storms out in a swirl of skirts and fury.

For a moment, there is only dead silence as everyone tries to comprehend what just happened. Joochan brings a hand to his nose. It comes away bloody.

Great.

“Gods above,” his fiancée whispers. “Your Highness – Joochan – I’m so sorry –” She turns to Bomin, who still looks like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on. “Where’s the infirmary?”

So Joochan ends up sitting on the edge of a white infirmary bed, pinching his nose between large bundles of gauze. Bomin has gone off, presumably to tell Donghyun what happened, and Joochan’s fiancée sits next to him, wringing her hands in apology even as he tells her over and over again that it’s fine – actually, it’s even a little funny.

Bomin will definitely be teasing Joochan about this by tomorrow.

“I’m so sorry,” she says again, staring into her lap. “I was just so angry – I didn’t see you –”

“I’m fine,” Joochan repeats, voice still slightly distorted by the residual pain in his nose. “If you were as upset as you sounded, I completely understand.”

She stiffens. “I – you heard us?”

“Not much.” Joochan winces in embarrassment. “I could only hear that you were yelling, neither I nor Bomin could actually make out anything. The walls here are thick.” For a reason.

Relief floods her face. Joochan looks at her for a moment, trying to see if it’s anything he should be worried about, but he turns away. He’d be alarmed if anyone heard any of his arguments with Bomin, after all, even if they were light.

One of the physicians comes in soon after. His nose doesn’t look to be majorly injured, so he sings Joochan a brief, warm melody that stops the bleeding (his voice isn’t as pretty as yours, though) and sends him on his way. Donghyun’s sister helps him wipe away the last of the dried blood, and then they walk back down to the guest rooms, where Joochan bids her goodnight.

She pauses before entering her quarters, though. “I just remembered – could we take a walk in the gardens tomorrow, Joochan?” Her eyes sparkle strangle, a mix of eagerness and muted anxiety. “I couldn’t forget watching the flowers bloom over these past few months.”

Joochan blinks. “Of course,” he says, even though his mind whirls with possible reasons behind the sudden request. The flowers are beautiful, of course, and there are new varieties blossoming with the change of seasons, but the anxiousness etched into the set of your lips speaks of something more than wishing to listen to some song. “In the afternoon? We can take a walk after lunch.”

“That sounds perfect.” She smiles. “Thank you, Joochan.”

He returns the smile. “It’s no problem.”

. . . . .

Everyone seems surprised when Joochan leaves together with his fiancée after lunch, citing a stroll in the garden, but it isn’t bad surprise. Bomin looks interested, Donghyun less annoyed, and Joochan even catches something like satisfaction in his parents’ eyes as they sweep out of the room.

It makes his stomach curdle a little inside.

Joochan starts the conversation, idly talking about the new season and which flowers the gardeners have begun putting into the ground. The air is crisper, cooler, and Joochan takes comfort in the breeze against his cheeks as he walks her around the grass, pausing every so often to listen to one of the gardeners sing. She doesn’t speak much, but at least the singing seems to make her look a little happier.

They pass by the stretch where Joochan’s balcony is, providing a spot of shade under the afternoon sun. Joochan tries to hurry past – he doesn’t want questions about the roses now stretching across the walls, blooming beautifully from your song – but then his fiancée gasps in surprise. “The roses!”

Something tightens in Joochan’s chest. He doesn’t know what it is – it doesn’t feel good, like a cross between fear and anxiety and… he can’t figure it out. None of it. But his fiancée is looking at him and he has to put on a smile so he curves his lips and nods, trying to ignore the feeling. “Yes, one of the newer gardeners managed to make them grow. You met them last time.” He tries to ignore the feeling in his heart, even as it tightens its hold. “Y/N.”

Y/N. You. You made them grow with your gentle hands and lovely voice. You made them grow despite Joochan’s cursed song, molded your melodies with his so they wouldn’t kill so easily, wouldn’t act so much the curse they were always meant to be…

He swallows, trying to banish all thoughts of you from his mind. For the first time on one of his walks in the garden, Joochan feels guiltily glad that he hasn’t seen you.

You and his fiancée don’t exactly coexist well in his thoughts, for reasons Joochan doesn’t have the time or energy to pick apart.

“They’re beautiful,” she whispers, clearly oblivious to Joochan’s internal conflict. She steps forward until they’re both under the shade of the balcony, marveling at the midnight blue roses streaked with white, galaxies in the night sky. “Do they bloom year round?”

“Yes, this variety does.” Joochan rubs a soft petal between his fingers, trying to recall just how many nights have passed since he last saw you face to face instead of just hearing your voice from up above. Too many, probably. “They wilt a little more easily in winter, but they can still grow if the snow isn’t too heavy.”

She hums in acknowledgement, still staring at the flowers. Her fingers twitch near a couple of the blooms, but she doesn’t do anything more than touch their petals.

Oh. She wants to pick one, maybe. Take it back to her rooms. Admire it.

For some reason, the thought of your flowers in his fiancée’s hands and in her rooms makes the feeling in Joochan’s chest intensify.

His lips fight hard to stay in a neutral smile as he reaches out, fingers trembling, to snap off one of the flowers just above the crown of five leaves at the base of the stem, the way you showed him how to so many weeks ago when he still met you under the moon and the stars, listened to your voice wash over the plants and his ears next to you, not from far away. Carefully, as his fiancée watches, Joochan pulls off the thorns, all the while trying not to feel like he’s betraying your song, your art, then nestles the bloom gently behind her ear. “For you,” he chokes, forcibly ignoring the tightness in his chest.

She touches the rose gently, fingers brushing against the petals. She looks beautiful in that moment, eyes shining, figure lovely against the green garden and sunlight, and not for the first time, Joochan wishes he could have just fallen in love with her. It would make things so much easier.

But the knowledge that he’d have no freedom in this marriage even if he was able to love, keeps his heart from racing too fast in her presence. He couldn’t fall in love with Donghyun’s sister, never – there are too many secrets and hidden agendas behind their match.

“Thank you,” she says, voice soft. For a moment, her eyes sparkle with true peace, true happiness, and Joochan feels a little happier for her. But then a shadow falls over her gaze and she looks away, hand falling limply from the rose to her side. Silence stretches.

“Shall we keep going?” Joochan finally says once he feels uncomfortable enough that he needs to speak. Thankfully, she nods, the smile reappearing on her face as he takes her arm once more, leading her out of the shade and into the sun.

He tries not to look at the midnight blue rose he tucked behind her ear as he forces conversation. “Do you truly like the flowers here?”

“I love them,” she says earnestly. Joochan can tells she’s speaking the truth. “My kingdom has flowers too, but for some reason, the ones here just… they’re so much brighter. Livelier.” She smiles briefly. “Maybe it’s the song.”

Joochan knows what he should say next. He should say something like, “when we’re married, we’ll have a garden of our own,” something that a fiancé in love with his future wife would say.

He’s not in love, but he says it anyway. Because he should. And he thinks maybe the thought of a garden for herself will make her smile a little more, even if the marriage he mentions isn’t anything she wants.

At least, he thinks it isn’t what she wants. She’s polite enough and hasn’t said anything to indicate it, but body language and silence sometimes speak more than words.

Her smile turns smaller, lips pressing together as she shifts away from him, ever so slightly. Joochan confirms his suspicions. “That would be lovely.”

The expression on her face indicates anything but. And even though she was the one who initiated the walk, was the one who seemed to want to talk, she doesn’t speak for the rest of the afternoon.

Neither does Joochan.

. . . . .

Several days fly by in a blur. There’s another ball next week, even bigger than the last – Joochan will present the second courting gift to his fiancée, as per his kingdom’s tradition (the first was sent on a long time ago), and she will engage him for the first dance, as per hers. On the one night you two are scheduled to meet, Joochan lowers down a note saying I’m sorry, Y/N, but I’m exhausted tonight – I can barely stay awake long enough to write this.

You’ve taken to bringing a stub of a pencil with you on these nights so that your communication isn’t only by song. This time is no exception, and Joochan quickly lifts up the string at your subtle tug.

Need a lullaby?

Your voice almost soothes him to sleep on the balcony.

He gets through the next couple of days, gets through the last minute fittings for new clothes (as if he needs more), opinions on the appetizer menu (shouldn’t they be asking the cooks?), what flowers would fit best the theme best (they bring in a vase of night-blooming roses and all Joochan can think of is you). Joochan tries to go through it with a smile on his face – he doesn’t trip over his fiancée’s feet or skirts when they have their lessons, which makes Youngtaek seem a little more satisfied – but when the night of the ball actually arrives, Joochan almost fights Jaehyun when his servant comes to drag him out of bed.

The flowers in his room were replaced about a week ago, yellow and red tulips forming a bright sunburst on his desk. Perhaps someone was just trying to cheer him up. Or maybe they somehow knew his fiancée’s favorite flowers were tulips and decided to make a little joke.

Joochan tries not to look at their slightly wilted stems. They only remind him of a certain night-blooming rose whose face he hasn’t seen in weeks.

He wears a dark suit, deep blue trimmed with silver embroidery around the shoulders and cuffs. Jaehyun puts a few last touches on his makeup and hands Joochan an earring, telling him to put it in – “You’re the servant, shouldn’t you be dressing me?” “Are your fingers that inept, Your Royal Highness?” – before taking the prince’s crown off the pillow it was delivered on, silver and jewels glinting in the evening light filtering through the window. The cold weight settles on Joochan’s head.

“There,” Jaehyun says softly. “You’re ready.”

Joochan lifts his gaze to the mirror. A young man stares back, faded pink hair swept elegantly off his forehead, an earring glinting just above his shoulder. Makeup around his eyes makes them darker, more piercing, and he wears a fine blue suit, slim silver chains draping over the shoulders and around the neck. The jewels in the crown sparkle brilliantly, even in the fading light.

He swallows hard. The young man copies the movement. He averts his eyes, clenching his fist.

This man in the mirror, the man Joochan knows is himself, looks fine and elegant and handsome, almost exactly what a prince should be. If he didn’t know he was cursed, Joochan might even dare to say he was the perfect model of royalty, second only to maybe his brother.

He’s never hated it more.

Jangjun’s characteristic knock sounds at the door before Joochan can take more time to hate himself. Jaehyun helps him out of the chair and squeezes his shoulder slightly, their previous teasing mood forgotten in the wake of what they both know Joochan has to do next. With a brief “good luck” and “thanks,” Joochan opens the door.

Both of Jangjun’s eyes rise the second he sees Joochan. “Looking good, Your Highness.”

Joochan scoffs lightly. “You just want me to say you look good too, right?”

He does look good. Few people are blind to the fact that Jangjun is actually very handsome, and Joochan has caught more than a few servants staring sometimes when he walks down a hall, his guard stepping along right beside him. With him dressed as a partygoer instead of in his usual uniform, Joochan thinks his guard will attract even more stares than usual tonight, but Jangjun doesn’t need the ego boost. He can live without it.

“Caught.” Jangjun’s eyes crinkle into a smirk. “But I know I look good, so I don’t need you to say it.” The smile fades, replaced with determination and concern. “Ready to go?”

No.

“Yes.” Joochan steps further into the hallway. Briefly, he wonders how people would react if he tripped while presenting the gift to Donghyun’s sister. “Come on.”

. . . . .

He doesn’t trip. The princess gets her gift without anything more than the usual fanfare, a circlet of gold with a moonstone set into the front that Joochan places on her head with hands shaking both from nervousness and just in general not wanting to be there. Whoever did her dressing left her hair devoid of accessories, thankfully, just some clips holding a few strands back, so Joochan doesn’t need to awkwardly remove things or try to fit the circlet around preexistent ornaments. One less thing to worry about.

He accepts his dances, too, sailing about the ballroom on feet much heavier than hers that seem to be made of air. No mistakes on his end, though – he notices Youngtaek nodding in approval somewhere in the watching crowd – and when they separate at the end of the ball with the last traditional song, Joochan feels satisfied, even if not happy, that he’s at least played his part well.

(It doesn’t matter that when he walks his fiancée back to her rooms and bids her goodnight, he sees the rose he picked for her standing upright in a vase, taunting him with memories of you.)

(It also doesn’t matter that when he returns to his own quarters, the wilting tulips that were on his desk have been replaced by a bouquet of midnight blue with a tiny note sticking out from behind the petals, almost blending in with a streak of starry white.

Sleep well.

Joochan lies awake for at least another hour.)

. . . . .

Because the gods have somehow managed to keep him from seeing you on his walks in the gardens, Joochan doesn’t feel too worried that you’ll meet when he wanders down to the flowers after another wedding suit fitting. He needs to feel sunshine on his skin, not cold silk and satin.

To his surprise, he meets Donghyun’s sister by a patch of roses, and at her suggestion, they continue on together, mostly keeping a comfortable silence. It chafes at Joochan a little – was there something she wanted to say last time, something that she can still say now? – but she doesn’t say anything about it, only admires the flowers. He follows suit.

Then Joochan rounds a corner, trailing his fingers along a vine that creeps up the stone palace walls, and sees a familiar figure kneeling over a small patch of tulips.

He freezes. No, there’s no way that can be you –

The figure’s head lifts, and Joochan catches their eye almost accidentally.

He’d know that face anywhere.

“Your Highnesses.” You bow low, stiff, formal. Joochan aches for even a bit of familiarity to bleed into your voice, your actions, but you keep your face neutral as he bids you to stand. He searches your eyes, your lips, for something, anything –

But there’s nothing. And Joochan understands. It isn’t just you and him, this time – his future wife stands at his arm, and you must maintain your composure.

His fiancée’s voice jerks Juyeon out of his thoughts. “I believe we’ve met before, haven’t we?” she smiles. “You sang beautifully the last time I was here.”

Your head dips in respect. “Thank you, Your Highness. Your words honor me.”

“Joochan told me you were the one who managed to make the roses bloom under the balcony where no other gardener succeeded,” she continues. Joochan hides a flinch when his name falls from her lips, startlingly casual and almost a slap in the face to you, who can’t use his name as you always do for fear of punishment. Something in your eyes flickers, too, but Joochan can’t do anything more than hope his silent apology reads clear in his gaze as his fiancée keep speaking. “Your gift is great.”

Again, you bow in thanks. Your eyes remain downcast, demure and humble, as you speak. The lightest hint of detached teasing colors your tone. “Perhaps the roses were only waiting for the right person’s song, Your Highness.”

Donghyun’s sister clearly thinks you meant to teasingly brag about your own ability and she responds accordingly, laughing with a brightness he rarely sees on her face. But as she laughs, you lift your head slightly, fixing his gaze with yours.

Perhaps the roses were only waiting for the right person’s song.

The right person’s song.

The right person…

Joochan stares into your eyes, watching them soften. You meant him, he’s certain, as self-centered as it sounds. By the right person, you meant him.

Oh. Oh, gods…

“I agree,” he replies softly.

Only he thinks that the right person was you.

Your eyes widen for a split second as you take in Joochan’s meaning. Something cracks in your expression, something raw and beautiful and so, so sad, and Joochan tries to memorize it so he can pick it apart later on – why do you look so radiant and so defeated all at once as your eyes flicker to the laughing fiancée at his side –

The right person.

The right person…

No. No. Joochan swallows hard, breaking his gaze from yours as his mind races. Nights spent under the moon, talking, singing, laughing as you clipped roses and leaves and soothed him with your voice…

Joochan is not in love with you. He isn’t, he can’t be, not when his fiancée is literally standing on his arm –

Your gaze catches his once more, and Joochan barely manages not to lose himself in your eyes.

He’s in love with you. Completely, wholly in love with you –

In his mind’s eye, Joochan sees your gaze flicker over to his future wife, turning dark upon contact.

Oh.

Joochan is in love with you.

And you might be in love with him.

He almost falls with the realization. Only his fiancée’s grip on his arm keeps him from swaying forward. Joochan looks at you, drinking in the sight of your eyes and you let him, staring back with a fervor as great as his –

But Joochan’s fiancée has finished her peal of laughter and you both have to look away, your eyes clouding into something darker while Joochan fights the ache in his chest. “Well, we won’t disturb you further,” she says, seemingly oblivious to his pain. “Thank you for your time.”

You bow, and when you straighten, your eyes linger on Joochan for a second longer than it should. “The pleasure was all mine.”

. . . . .

Joochan lies awake that night and several more, still reeling with the sudden realization that he is in love not with the person that people would like him to love, but with a gardener whose voice makes him feel like a night-blooming rose, petals opening in the night, free to blossom and free to grow, free to sing without causing pain.

And this gardener is in love with him too.

He tries to hide it. No one really notices – he keeps up a joking banter with his brother and Donghyun, fights playfully with Jangjun, and performs his duties as a future husband without fail. But several times, he catches Bomin looking at him with a weird expression or Jangjun staring over out of the corner of his eye.

It might be easier if he could tell them what he’s done, how he feels. But both would probably disapprove – Jangjun already suspects something about you, and Bomin, though he now understands Joochan’s revulsion to the marriage, wouldn’t be happy about him having fallen in love with someone else. It will only hurt Donghyun’s sister, too, and she doesn’t deserve that.

When Joochan makes his way back to his rooms several nights later, debating whether or not to even go out onto the balcony because he still can’t think properly, he doesn’t expect Jangjun to stop him just outside the door, a strange expression on his face.

“Joochan.”

He blinks. “Jangjun?”

The guard’s eyes flicker. “Go see them.”

“I –” Joochan frowns. “What?”

“Go see them,” Jangjun repeats in a hushed whisper. “They make you happy, don’t they?” A faraway look comes into his eyes for the briefest second before it disappears. “And you can sing in front of them.”

Joochan’s eyes widen. “How did you –”

“Don’t get mad,” Jangjun says, holding up his hands. “Bomin told me what you let slip to him. I didn’t tell him anything about Y/N, I swear – I just put two and two together, and, well. It’s the only thing that makes sense.” He holds Joochan’s gaze. “Don’t get mad at him. He’s just trying to understand. He hasn’t said a word to anyone else, not even Sanha.”

Joochan leans against the wall, trying to process all of the information. “I – Jangjun, what in the world –”

“Listen, Joochan.” Jangjun steps forward. “I know what it’s like to suppress a part of you for so long it feels like you’re dying.” His lips twist in a grimace of pain that Joochan barely has time to decipher. “If you’ve found someone who is able and willing to listen to your song, I’m not going to stop you.”

I know what it’s like to suppress a part of you for so long it feels like you’re dying.

Joochan frowns. As far as Joochan knows, Jangjun is ungifted – he just doesn’t have magic. What part of himself would he have suppressed, and for what reason?

The look on his guard’s face convinces him not to ask.

Swallowing, Joochan takes a deep breath and tries to focus on the meaning behind Jangjun’s words. He wants him to go, to meet you in person under the moon and stars and sing to the roses until midnight. A sick feeling rises in Joochan’s stomach. If Jangjun had said this months earlier, maybe even weeks, he would’ve run out right then and there. But now that he knows what he feels for you, not just for your song but you as a person…

Joochan swallows. He does need to speak to you, though, even briefly. And if Jangjun is willing to cover for him in case something goes wrong, then he should take this opportunity, shouldn’t he?

He nods. “Okay.”

Jangjun gestures to the end of the hall, down the secret passageway Joochan always took to find you. He doesn’t bother to question why Jangjun knows about it. “Then go.”

. . . . .

When Joochan arrives, you’re already under the balcony, humming to some of the rosebuds. You look up at his approach, eyes wide with first fear and then surprise. No wonder – you probably expected him on the balcony again, not right in front of you on the grass.

Joochan’s heart thumps. Gazing at you now, ethereal under the pale moonlight, he has to wonder how he didn’t realize he was in love with you until just a few days ago. Every piece of him aches to reach out, to hold your hands in his, to walk with you around the garden like he does with his fiancée…

His stomach twists at the thought of Donghyun’s sister. Why did their parents have to arrange this marriage?

“Joochan,” you breathe, standing up from where you were kneeling by the bushes. “I –”

“I love you.”

You freeze. Joochan freezes. For a moment, all that hangs in the air is silence and the echoes of Joochan’s words in the wind.

He doesn’t know what made him say it now, so suddenly like this. All he knows is that when you turned around and he heard you say his name, the only thing he could think was I love you, I love you so much I can’t even say and then it all came spilling out.

Finally, you swallow. For the first time since he spoke with you that day in the shed, you look rattled, discomposed, hands shaking as you fight to keep your voice steady. “You – you love me?”

Joochan swallows. Dips his head. “Yes,” he whispers. “I love you.”

Your expression cracks the same way it did when you met in the garden under the light of day, speaking of the roses right by you with his fiancée at his side. Splinters appear in your eyes, a rose’s petals withered past the point of growth even with the help of song, and Joochan can’t help but step forward, try to take your hands in his –

You jerk away and Joochan falters, suddenly unable to meet your eyes. Did he read you wrong? Do you not care for him the same way he cares for you? Because if you don’t, hell, Joochan doesn’t know what he’ll do –

“Joochan.” You swallow. “I mean, Your Highness.”

Pieces splinter off his heart, ice shards shattering on the floor with the sound of his title and not his name from your voice.

“You can’t – you can’t love me,” you whisper, pointedly looking away. “You have a title, you have a fiancée, you have everything –”

“I don’t have freedom,” Joochan interrupts. “No one can hear my song without dying and for that I don’t live, breathe the same way other people do – do you know how much everything hurt before I met you?” His eyes search yours for understanding, but you blink them closed. “Y/N, please.”

“Is that all you love me for, then?” you ask, features twisted in pain. “Just that I can listen to you sing, despite your curse?”

“No!” Joochan shakes his head wildly. “No – I love you for everything you are, beyond your voice and song –”

You remain silent as he speaks, words stumbling over more words as he tries to articulate everything he feels for you, his night-blooming rose under the moon and stars, one of the few people he trusts, one of the few around whom he feels like home. He loves your wisdom, your gentle teasing and sweet song, he loves the way you care so deeply for every living thing around you bar the pests you see sometimes eating the plants, he loves you for you, everything that makes up you –

“I love all of you,” he finishes, tears pulsing behind his eyes. “Not a part of you. All of you.”

Your gaze glitters with unshed tears. You don’t say anything.

Joochan panics. “Please, say something,” he pleads. “Just – anything. If you don’t feel the same, I’ll go away and I won’t come back, I promise, just please say something – tell me if you feel the same –”

One hand drags across your eyes. You swallow hard, finally meeting his gaze. “I do,” you say roughly. “I do love you, but we can’t – I can’t –” An angry sigh bursts from your lips and you wipe your eyes again. “Joochan, this could never end well.”

The relief at you using his name and not his title softens Joochan’s sadness, but only barely. “Run away with me,” he says desperately. “Just give me the word, Y/N, and I’ll run away with you. I won’t look back.”

“No.” You shake your head. “Neither of us is going to run away, Joochan. You have your life and I have mine. What we feel…” Your lips curve into the barest smile, lovely, haunting in the moonlight, before it disappears. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.”

“It matters to me,” Joochan protests.

“And it matters to me, too.” You attempt a smile and more pieces shatter from Joochan’s heart at the sight of you trying your hardest to remain strong when he’s already such a wreck. “But it won’t matter to others. You have a fiancée and a whole life ahead of you. My life will stay here, with the flowers.” Your smile grows briefly. “It’s okay. Just knowing that I will see you in the gardens is enough for me.”

“What if it isn’t enough for me?” Joochan asks. “What if I want to marry you, not my fiancée? What if I want us to have a garden together, not just one where we’ll see each other periodically –”

“That life isn’t for us,” you say softly, voice cutting clearly through his desperation. “It isn’t for us, Joochan.”

And with that, the last of Joochan’s heart falls away, cracks to pieces on the cold ground. For a moment, you only stare at each other, a million silent words filling the still air.

“Can we just have tonight, then?” Joochan whispers. “Just tonight.”

You chew on your lip. Joochan’s heart pounds.

Then you nod, and within seconds, he’s folded you into his arms, memorizing the warm weight of your body pressed against his. You shudder into his shoulder – you’re crying, he realizes, just as tears begin to fall from his own eyes – and then wrap your arms around him too, pulling him even closer than before. “Sing for me?” you whisper, voice cracking with tears.

He opens his mouth, begins to hum a song he learned years ago from sitting in on one of Bomin’s lessons. It speaks of hope, a new day, love blossoming as flowers do in a garden, as a night-blooming rose does under the moon. It’s strange, singing alone without your faint humming in the background as you keep the roses alive, but even as the flowers wither, Joochan steadies his voice enough to sing softly, smoothly, knowing that this will be the only night he can hold you like this.

You pull back after his song and for one brief, terrified moment, Joochan thinks you’re going to leave. But you only stare at him, stars sparkling in your eyes, and brush a strand of faded pink hair out of his forehead before your gaze lowers, settling on his lips. “May I?” you whisper, sounding almost frightened that he will say no.

Joochan doesn’t deign you with a verbal reply, only closes the distance and kisses you.

Bitterness on his tongue, sugar on your lips, Joochan pulls you close, close, closer, tasting the bittersweet from your mouth as you kiss under the moon. You separate for air and Joochan gasps a little, dizzy from the taste of your lips, and then you kiss him again, deeper, sweeter, again and again until it finally feels okay to stop for a little longer and you end it with a last brief peck on his lips.

“I love you, Y/N,” Joochan whispers as you bury yourself against him once more. “I love you.”

Your voice shakes as you reply. “I love you too, Joochan.”

(Neither of you notices a shadow at the edge of the wall, disappearing into the night.)

. . . . .

By some unspoken agreement, you and Joochan don’t meet under the stars anymore, not even with him on the balcony. That last night was an ending to something bittersweet and beautiful, but you made it clear that that was where things had to stop. Joochan is just grateful you let him have those last hours with you.

At least, that’s what he tells himself, even as he stops singing to himself in his empty room.

It isn’t the same. Joochan can’t sing, doesn’t want to sing if there isn’t someone to listen, to smile, to sing back a melody of their own. It doesn’t feel right. It feels like a betrayal.

You still come under his balcony sometimes to check on the roses. Joochan sometimes sits under the railing so you won’t see him (at least not as clearly), straining his ears to listen to you hum your song to the buds. The seasons are going to change soon, spring turning to summer, and you’ve talked about the changes you need to make when tending to the blooms with the shift in weather. He listens to the faint sounds of your movements and your voice, and he thinks you know he’s there, too, even if he doesn’t join in on your song.

Jangjun begins to look more and more confused as the days pass and Joochan just looks worse. He knows his guard meant well and expected him to be happier after that meeting he encouraged, so Joochan doesn’t have the heart to reveal what actually happened. Jangjun doesn’t ask, but he knows something went wrong.

You disappear from the gardens again. Joochan doesn’t see you when he takes his walks, and even his fiancée remarks on how they never encounter you after a few weeks pass with no sign. For you, Joochan is grateful – it clearly only hurt you to see the two of them together, and he doesn’t want you to hurt at all – but selfishly, he wishes he could see your face just one more time.

“It’s okay. Just knowing that I will see you in the gardens is enough for me.”

What’s the use of that when you never let yourself see him in the first place?

But Joochan respects your wishes, and even when people start remarking on his pale face and the dark circles under his eyes, he doesn’t say anything. He just smiles, nods, says I’ve just been busy lately, don’t worry about me, and carries on. No sense in telling anyone about his broken heart.

He takes a walk in the gardens one afternoon, alone. Bomin offered to come, but Joochan wanted to be by himself (well, by himself with Jangjun, of course). Almost unconsciously, his feet take him under his balcony, where the night-blooming roses grow.

Joochan sits on the grass in the shade looking at the roses. Most of the buds have blossomed with the warmer summer weather, and he fingers a few of the midnight blue blooms, runs a hand over the soft white streaks on their petals.

Then he blinks. Scoots back. Takes in the scene from a farther distance, eyes narrowing in confusion, then widening in surprise.

They’re overgrown. Not by a lot, but still a noticeable amount. The branches that you kept so carefully trimmed now crawl up the wall, creeping past the shade and just barely into the sun.

Joochan frowns. There’s no way you would be this careless normally, but maybe you’ve been busy over the past week or so and haven’t had time to tend them. After all, the rest of the gardens are your main focus – this bush was something extra, since nothing is ever really planted here out of fear of his voice. Come to think of it, Joochan hasn’t heard your voice from the balcony in a few days – he thought it might’ve just been you singing too quietly, but maybe you weren’t there at all.

Busy. You must be busy. Joochan stands, casting one last uncertain glance at the overgrown rose bush before walking off, ignoring Jangjun’s look of concern. He’ll come back and check in a few days to see if they’ve been trimmed.

A few days pass. Then a week. Joochan waits on the balcony every night, straining for a single note that sounds like your voice. Nothing.

And the rose bush is out of control.

. . . . .

On the fifth visit, Jangjun finally says something.

“Your Highness –” he looks around before deciding they’re alone, then drops the formalities. “Joochan, seriously, is something wrong?”

Yes. Something is very wrong. Joochan has come to look at the roses five times and each time they’ve just grown even more out of control. No one is taking care of them.

Which means you haven’t been here. In weeks.

Joochan swallows, debating whether or not to tell Jangjun everything. He could help – Jangjun knows the palace almost better than Joochan himself does, and he has a way with words that lets him seek out the information he needs without giving away what he wants. Joochan might talk to Bomin, but his brother is both busy and in closer proximity to his parents. Plus, he doesn’t have as much freedom to maneuver as Jangjun.

He swallows. “Jangjun, can you find out if something has happened to Y/N?”

Jangjun frowns. “The gardener? Why?”

“They haven’t been here to tend the roses in weeks,” Joochan says helplessly. “Please don’t ask me how I know, but…” He gestures at the overgrown bush. “I think something’s happened to them.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Then Jangjun sets his jaw. “You’re not going to tell me anything, are you.” It isn’t a question.

“Not… not now,” Joochan allows. “If something happens, though…” He takes a deep breath. “I’ll tell you what you need to know. All of it.”

Jangjun nods. “Fine. Give me a few days, I’ll see what I can find.”

Joochan only hopes he isn’t too late.

. . . . .

Two days later, Jangjun grabs Joochan out of nowhere and shoves him into an empty room.

Joochan coughs on dust particles flying in the air. “Jangjun, what the –”

“Joochan, you need to tell me everything.” Jangjun’s eyes hold no mischief whatsoever. “Y/N is sitting in prison underneath us this very minute and I need to know how it could have slipped that they know of your curse.”

How it could have slipped.

Slipped.

How –

“What?” Joochan sputters, heartbeat rising. “I couldn’t – I don’t know how anyone would have – we haven’t spoken in a month –”

“Seungmin told me they haven’t been at work for at least two weeks and that they just disappeared. It matches up with the time a new prisoner was brought in,” Jangjun snaps. “Try to remember. Something, anything.”

Joochan closes his eyes. Tries to think. You’re in prison, in prison, because someone somehow found out that you know of Joochan’s curse even though no one has been around when you two sang together – that has to be true or else they would’ve died at the sound of his song, and no one died –

Was there a time when he wasn’t singing?

Oh.

There was – that last time –

His eyes fly open. “That time you told me to go –” he chokes, does his best to continue – “we met, and I told them that I loved them but –”

“But what?”

Joochan puts his head in his hands. “We agreed that it couldn’t work out so we just spent that one night in the garden – nothing happened, don’t look at me like that – but neither of us sang much and someone could’ve heard something and – they could have pieced it together?”

“Okay.” Joochan hears Jangjun take a deep breath. “Okay. That would… that would explain it.” Hands place themselves on Joochan’s shoulders and he opens his eyes to Jangjun’s serious expression. “What do you want to do about this?”

Joochan blinks. What does he want to do about this? What kind of question – “I need to get them out, obviously!”

“Then they’ll be on the run for the rest of their life,” Jangjun counters. “Granted, they’re just a gardener and they might be able to blend in somewhere on the outskirts.” He squeezes Joochan’s shoulders so hard it almost hurts. “Would you go with them?”

In a heartbeat. In a heartbeat.

“Even if it meant giving up living in the palace, bringing a lot of trouble on Bomin and possibly breaking your fiancée’s heart?”

Selfish, selfish, selfish.

“Bomin – Bomin will understand,” Joochan says, desperately trying to convince himself. “And Donghyun’s sister doesn’t love me. She doesn’t want this marriage any more than I do.”

“There will be political ramifications,” Jangjun warns. “I know you weren’t raised as the crown prince, but you have to know this much.”

Joochan scoffs. “My parents will try to pull it off as a kidnapping or something,” he says. “No way would they let it slip that I dared to run away.”

“Then they could send an assassin or a mercenary after you. Kill Y/N, bring you back. Force you to return to everything you tried to run away from.”

Fear bubbles in Joochan’s stomach, but he swallows it down. “If Y/N is willing to deal with it, so am I.”

Jangjun searches his expression for several excruciating seconds. When Joochan doesn’t flinch from his gaze, he finally pulls back and nods. “Prison break is the last resort,” Jangjun says. “Right now, you need to go to your parents and see if you can convince them to let Y/N go. Swear them to secrecy, keep them under watch in the palace or something – it doesn’t matter. Getting them out of here will be much easier if they’re not imprisoned in the first place. Tell Bomin, ask him to help you convince them if you think that’ll help.”

Joochan swallows, still feeling the burn of Jangjun’s hands on his shoulders. The residual pain clears his mind, helps him think. “Okay,” he whispers. “Okay.”

. . . . .

Bomin takes it about as well as Joochan thought he would, which is not as well as he would’ve liked but better than it could have been. After seemingly endless explanation, he agrees to back Joochan – you’re only a gardener, after all, this is kind of overkill, and Bomin is just a good brother like that. It almost makes Joochan cry again.

As the doors to the throne room open, Joochan’s heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest. He hates facing his parents, hates looking at them and speaking to them more than most things in the world, but for you?

He’ll do it.

Joochan walks into a silent room, boots thumping on the cold stone floor. Bomin’s footsteps just behind him give him strength as he looks up to his mother and father, sitting with blank expressions on their thrones. “I request that the room be cleared.”

His father searches his gaze. “Request granted.”

It takes a minute for all the guards and officials to filter through the doors, during which Joochan tries to calm his beating heart. Finally, the room is empty save for his immediate family.

Joochan swallows. “I ask that you take Y/N out of prison.”

Eyebrows raise. Joochan hates that they don’t even seem to recognize your name. “The gardener,” he almost snaps, reigning himself in only just in time when he catches Bomin’s warning look.

Faces clear. Eyes become stone. “They know the secret of your curse,” his father says, voice flat and cold. Joochan can hardly believe he has healing power – his voice sucks all the heat out of the room. Your voice always made him feel warm. “They cannot be left to wander the kingdom and spread the word.”

“So bind them to secrecy. Keep them under watch in the palace,” Joochan counters. “They shouldn’t have to be stuck in prison – there are already people outside our immediate family who know, and they’ve kept their mouths shut!”

“They have not been vetted by the palace,” his mother snaps. “They are liable to speak, and as such, they must be kept away.”

Kept away. Like an inanimate object, a toy from ages past, to be locked in a cupboard and never shown the light of day…

Bomin shoots him a sharp glance, but Joochan is sick of this.

“Are you serious?” he yells. “You – have one single ounce of sympathy, will you? Or is that impossible with the way you’ve been running your kingdom – your household – for so long?”

“You are marked by death,” his mother snarls. “It is imperative that no one know this beyond all those necessary.”

“Father, they’re just one person,” Bomin breaks in before Joochan can explode again. “It’s entirely possible to not keep them in the prison and just keep watch over them –”

“You clearly have much to learn before you become king.” Their father shakes his head, as though disappointed. “Just one person? One sick person can spread an illness to a city within days, and illness travels even slower than words. How fast do you think news of this would spread if your gardener decided to speak?”

Joochan scoffs. “You never have any problem paying people off to be quiet or do things you want them to do. What’s so different this time?”

“I? Pay off a gardener?” His father laughs. “Who do you think I am?”

Joochan explodes.

“You think so highly of yourself, don’t you?” he yells. “You think so highly of yourself just because you wear a crown made of some shiny metal and jewels – you think you have the right to rule because of your supposed royal blood even though there’s nothing but cold evil under the surface? We are the descendants of killers – your father wiped out the weavers and you have no sympathy, so how can you think you have the right – why do you think you can just play people as pawns and have them do whatever you want – even your children – do you ever think about what we want?” Angry tears brim in his eyes but Joochan keeps them back. “I never wanted any of this! I never asked for my gift, I never asked to be born, I never asked to be the evil, death-marked child you always made me out to be, I never asked for the arranged marriage, all I ever wanted was to be happy and to use my gift but I couldn’t even do that – and now you’re taking away half the reason I still want to live by shutting them in a prison because of something they found out by accident –”

“You have no gift,” his mother intones, voice icing Joochan’s veins. “You are cursed.” Her lip curls. “Your song is no gift to us.”

Bomin makes an outraged sound in his throat, but Joochan barely hears it. All he can register is the blood roaring in his ears, the cold look on his mother’s face, the abhorrence and disgust on his father’s –

And he knows it isn’t true. You’ve taught him otherwise. Death is a part of a cycle – some flowers you can’t even bring back from their withering, it is just their time – and life needs it just as much as death needs life. Just as much as he needs you.

But hearing the words come directly from his mother’s lips, the woman who bore him, hurts almost more than your words can heal.

Joochan swallows. He could end it all right now. Tell Bomin to get out, sing, watch his song wither his parents away like the petals of an old rose – no, not a rose, even a withered rose is a sight better than the two monarchs sitting in front of him –

But he isn’t a killer. Not by far. He can’t do it.

Joochan steps back once. Twice. His voice, though small, carries in the silence.

“You know,” he chokes, “for people who pride yourselves on your ability to heal, all you really do is cause pain.”

He doesn’t wait for Bomin to follow before he runs out of the room.

. . . . .

Jangjun finds him in his quarters with Bomin half an hour later, sitting on the floor and staring at the wall. “It didn’t work out.”

Joochan doesn’t need to say anything to confirm it.

“So what happens next?” Bomin asks, still rhythmically patting Joochan’s back. It helps a little.

“We break Y/N out,” Jangjun says. “And they run away with Joochan.”

Bomin doesn’t look surprised, but Joochan’s heart still twists. He doesn’t want to leave Bomin or Jaehyun or Jangjun behind – they’re some of the only people who’ve kept him sane since he was old enough to think – but at the same time, he’s been itching to just leave the scrutiny of his parents for years.

After so much pain, even brotherly ties won’t keep him here for much longer.

“I’m going with you.”

Joochan’s head snaps up. Bomin furrows his eyebrows. “What – Jangjun?”

“They might send assassins after you and Y/N.” Jangjun crosses his arms. “I know you’re good in a fight, but Y/N doesn’t know anything about that sort of life. I do. You need me there to lead people off track, plant evidence –”

“That’s not the only reason,” Joochan interrupts. His eyes narrow. “You’re hiding something.”

Jangjun’s jaw works. He doesn’t look angry, exactly, maybe worried –

No.

For the first time Joochan has ever seen, his guard looks scared.

Bomin casts Joochan a concerned look. “Jangjun, it’s fine –”

“I’m a weaver.”

Joochan’s jaw drops. So does Bomin’s. Jangjun just stares back, defiant, arms crossed to hide the shaking in his hands.

A weaver. Joochan’s guard is a weaver. His loyal guard is one of those his forebears tried to wipe out generations ago – so why is he here, protecting the descendant of those who probably killed his family, his ancestors –

All of a sudden, Jangjun’s words from so many weeks ago make sense.

I know what it’s like to suppress a part of you for so long it feels like you’re dying.

He’s a weaver. One of those who wove stories into clothes, one of those his grandfather tried to massacre.

“Why?” Joochan manages.

“I was decent at fighting and needed a stable roof over my head that wasn’t the orphanage,” Jangjun explains. An unreadable look flashes through his eyes. “Took the first opportunity I could get and thought I would hate it. But then I realized… neither of you are your parents. Not even close.” He swallows. “So I stayed. Longer than I expected to.”

“So why leave now?” Bomin asks. “You could still stay – I mean, if we’re the only people who know –”

“Daeyeol knows too,” Jangjun says. Bomin starts at the name of his personal guard. “He knows, and he told me that some of the higher ups have been getting suspicious of… things. My unknown parentage. Why I’m so good at sewing.” He scoffs. “Like only commoners can be good at sewing. But yeah. No one will care how loyal I am if they find out I’m a weaver, so I’m going to have to run off at some point.” His jaw sets. “I might as well go along with you.”

Joochan has to try hard not to cry. “Thank you.”

“Don’t be a sap.” A sliver of the old Jangjun comes back in the scowl that paints itself across his face. “Bomin, you could come with us, you know that right?”

He shakes his head. “No, I need to stay back. If both of the princes disappeared, there’s no telling what our parents would do.” Bomin swallows. “Who knows. Maybe one day, when they’re gone, you might be able to come back.”

That would be a dream.

“Thank you, Bomin,” Joochan whispers.

His brother squeezes his hand in response.

“Well, that settles it.” Jangjun snaps his fingers before Joochan can do something stupid like cry. “Get moving. We need to get out of here as soon as possible.”

. . . . .

Joochan does not like the prisons. He’s been there before, but every time, the mildew smell and darkness make him want to hurl.

The fact that you’re in here, though, spurs him on.

Jangjun makes quick work of the last guard, slamming the handle of his sword into his head. The man crumples to the ground. Joochan stands over another unconscious man, peering forward into the darkness. “Down the hall?”

“Yeah.” Jangjun looks down at his arm. “Oh, come on.”

“What happened?”

“Just a scratch.” Jangjun waves him off. “Go and find them. I’ll stand guard here. There should be one more left, two at most. You can handle it.”

Heart in his throat, Joochan turns towards the dark. Several torches flicker light onto the stone walls and he takes care to remain in their shadows as he creeps down the line of cells, eyeing the guard standing at the end.

One shot. One chance. Joochan takes another step. Another –

The guard turns around.

For a moment, they only stare at each other, eyes wide. Then Joochan leaps forward.

Metal clangs. Armor crashes. Joochan whirls, dodging a metal-covered fist before slamming his sword against the side of the man’s helmet. He crumples to the floor.

Joochan experimentally prods the body with his foot. Breathing, but unconscious. Good. He plucks off the ring of keys –

“Joochan?”

He spins around at the sound of your voice and meets your gaze, face thinner, eyes wider, but still you. Still you.

“Y/N,” he breathes, rushing forward. His fingers tremble as he tries one key after another, all the while trying not to cry. What did they do to you? “Give me a second, we’re getting you out.”

A key finally clicks and Joochan drops the ring, pulling open the cell door and letting you fall into his arms. He holds you close as you shake against his shoulders, chest heaving, not crying yet but the small sounds in your throat make it seem like you’re close –

“We need to go,” Joochan whispers, squeezing you one more time. “Come on, Y/N.”

You lift your head. “Where are we going?”

Good question. Joochan doesn’t even know. Just away, away from the palace, away from everything…

“We’re running away,” he says. “Both of us. And Jangjun.”

To your credit, you take it without question, only nodding and pulling back. Joochan wants to hug you again, but there’s not time. “I guess we should go, then.”

. . . . .

Bomin meets them as they emerge from a dark passageway, immediately pressing a bag into Joochan’s hands. Something rattles inside. “Money,” he says. “And hair dye. You need to get rid of that pink.”

He wraps Bomin in a hug. “Thank you.”

“Live a good life, yeah?” Bomin pats his back, hand steady even as his voice trembles. “I’ll see you again.”

Joochan blinks back a tear. “Definitely. Tell Jaehyun, okay?”

“Of course.” And with that, they separate.

Joochan only hopes that another meeting will come to pass.

Jangjun leads them down endless halls and passageways, some even Joochan doesn’t know. All the while he holds your hand, pulling you forward anytime it feels like you’re faltering, and in the end, Jangjun pushes open a last door and you burst into the early evening, a floral scent in the air. The gardens.

He looks around.

Meets a familiar face.

Shit.

“Joochan?” His fiancée takes a hesitant step forward, eyes flickering between the three. Your grip tightens on his hand. “What – where are you going?”

Jangjun looks at him. So do you.

He says nothing.

Her eyes widen. “You’re running away.”

No one needs to confirm it. Their clothes, the bag on his shoulder, the weapons strapped to his and Jangjun’s waists say everything.

“Yes,” Joochan finally says, lifting his chin. “I’m sorry.”

Her expression sinks, though she puts a smile on her face. “I understand.” Her gaze shifts to you. “You were never in love with me. It was obvious.”

The ache in Joochan’s heart grows even stronger. “I –”

“It’s fine.” Her smile takes on a semblance of mischief. “If it doesn’t hurt your ego too much, I was never in love with you.”

Joochan almost laughs. “I figured.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.” Her lips turn down slightly, a little wistful. “Shame, though. I think we could’ve been friends.”

“I think so, too.” And it’s true. If they hadn’t been forced into all of this…

“Well, I never saw you. Not even a glimpse.” His former fiancée begins to turn around. “Don’t mind me, just walking in the gardens.”

He calls her name, just before she fully turns. She looks back. “Hm?”

For a moment, Joochan falters. This could go very wrong.

But he decides to take a chance.

“Find Bomin,” he says. “Tell him I said he could tell you everything. Donghyun, too. And for what it’s worth…” He swallows. “I really am sorry.”

“Things rarely go according to plan.” She smirks. “Our parents should’ve thought of that first.”

They really might have been friends. Joochan tries not to think of what could have been as he follows Jangjun between bushes, helping you through trees, crawling under fences until they reach the edge of the forest that borders the palace.

Jangjun plunges in, but Joochan pauses. Looks at you. Even gaunt, thinner from weeks of prison, you are radiant under the rising moonlight that filters between the trees.

You smile at him, squeezing his hand. “Ready?”

So many times, he’s been asked that question before balls, before events, before arranged marriage meetings, and every time, though he said yes, his real answer was no.

This time, however…

“Are you two done being saps?” Jangjun hisses from further into the forest. “Hurry up!”

Nothing is certain anymore. He might now technically be a fugitive. But tomorrow is a new day, and though Joochan is on the run, he’s with you.

And he’s free.

Joochan smiles at you, ignoring his guard. “Ready.”

Together, you slip into the night.

. . . . .

The palace called it kidnapping. There was a manhunt for months, search parties looking for a gardener and a royal guard, the prince’s alleged kidnappers. Many thought it ludicrous, however, that a mere gardener and a guard who had been known to be loyal to the prince for years would attempt something as ridiculous as this, and simply left the palace to fumble through its affairs in the wake of the disappearance.

The former prince himself dealt with assassins sent after his partner, bounty hunters charged to bring him back (dead or alive, he learned, it didn’t matter – if he were dead, at least no one would have to deal with him anymore). The guard lured them all away. Together, the three plunged further into the country outskirts until there was no trace left, not even of the last assassin who had been sent to take care of them all.

This is where the story should end, with two black-haired brothers and a gardener settling quietly at the edge of a forest. Yet though the words now come to close, the world still remains.

The end of one story, after all, is only the beginning of another.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for a certain trio + a prince back at the palace)

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i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend · 3 years

Text

Relationship Stahl ~ Charlie Conway x Adam Banks

A/N: Hi all, I'm on my Mighty Ducks bullshit, so sorry not sorry. This is just for fun. It's postcanon - could be canon with the show. I don't specifically go against anything. But yeah. Enjoy this fic for a movie that came out over 25 years ago. *Posts fic and runs away*

Summary: Charlie and Adam are idiots. And they finally figure that out thanks to Charlie's pen pal.

Characters/Pairings: Charlie Conway/Adam Banks, Charlie Conway, Adam Banks, Connie Moreau, Guy Germaine, Fulton Reed, Gunnar Stahl

Rating: T

Word Count: 2800

Warnings: Language ( I think that's it)

^True love if I ever saw it ;)

Charlie grinned at his laptop as he fired off his enthusiastic response to the latest email from his pen pal before flipping open his phone. Instead of scrolling through his contacts, he dialed the number he knew by heart.

“I literally just dropped you off,” his best friend laughed when he picked up on the third ring.

“And I couldn’t bear to be without you,” Charlie quipped back.

“What do you want, Charlie?”

Adam’s voice was undeniably fond and it made Charlie’s stomach flutter.

“How do you feel about going to the Wilds game on Saturday?”

“How’d you swing those tickets?”

Charlie shrugged even though Adam couldn’t see him. “I know a guy. So are you in? We can grab drinks with some of the ducks afterwards.”

He could practically hear Adam shaking his head and it made Charlie’s smile widen. He knew what his answer would be.

“Yeah, I’m in. Of course I’m in. I’ll pick you up at 5?”

“Sounds good.”

“Are the other ducks coming?

“I’m gonna see who’s around.”

“Alright. Can’t wait. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

Charlie smiled at the question in his voice.

“Of course. I’ll call you after work.”

“Good night, Charlie.”

“Night. Banksy. Text me when you get home, alright?”

“Will do.”

Adam was wearing a Minnesota Wilds Jersey and a pair of tight-fitting jeans, when he knocked on the door of Charlie’s house.

He checked his watch. He was early.

He was always early.

Charlie probably wouldn’t be ready for another half hour, so he was surprised when the door swung open – at least until he saw Casey Conway’s smiling face.

“Adam, honey, how are you?” she cooed as she pulled him inside and into a tight hug.

“I’m great, Mrs. Conway. You’re looking lovely this evening.”

She swatted at him, but he saw her genuine smile. “Always a charmer.”

“How are you? How’s the diner?”

“I’m great. The diner is doing well. Business has really increased since we reopened after the renovations. We still have our regulars, but we’re getting more of a younger crowd too.”

“That’s awesome. And so well deserved.”

Adam could still remember when Charlie had sprinted into their college dorm room talking a mile a minute. He’d gleaned that there was a long lost uncle who’d passed and left his mother a rather large inheritance, and she was going to use that to buy out the diner that she’d been helping run for years.

Charlie had been so excited he’d nearly fell over because he forgot to breathe. Adam had spent the summer helping to paint and decorate the newly renovated diner.

“It’s been way too long since you’ve come over for dinner. Are you free next week?”

“Would Tuesday work?”

“Perfect. That’s my early night. And I’ll make your favorite pot pie.”

Adam grinned at the ceiling as he rocked back on his heels.

“You’re the best, Mrs. C.”

“Well, I won’t hold you up. I’m afraid I’ve already made Charlie late. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

“See you then.”

She gave him another quick hug before scurrying out the door.

Adam sighed as he checked his watch.

“Hey, Spazaway. Hurry up or we’re gonna be late!” he yelled up the stairs.

“I’m coming! Relax, cake-eater!”

There were several thumps as Charlie hopped on one foot to get his shoe on and then a slam of his bedroom door, but by the time he made it downstairs he looked perfectly disheveled in a cool way instead of a sloppy way. Classic Charlie. It’d be irritating if it wasn’t so attractive.

“Hey, Banksy. See, 5:15 right on time.”

“I told you I’d pick you up at 5,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but we both know that at this point you tell me you’ll pick me up 30 minutes before we actually have to leave. So technically, I’m 15 minutes early,” Charlie grinned and slung an arm around his shoulder.

Adam huffed but couldn’t argue. Charlie was right. He’d learned a long time ago never to trust Charlie to be punctual, so he had started telling him earlier times in the hope that they’d actually arrive places before the events were over.

“It’s gonna be a great night.”

“Are any of the others coming?”

“Connie, Guy, and Fulton. Everyone else was busy.”

“That’ll be fun,” Adam admitted as he climbed into the car.

Secretly, he’d kind of been hoping that it would just be him and Charlie, but he shoved that thought away. It would be good to go out with some of his oldest friends.

“Yeah. It will.”

The five ducks were happily chatting and catching up, laden down with food as they waited for the game to start.

Guy was the first to notice the name after the national anthem.

“Do you think Stahl is the same one we faced from Iceland?”

“I don’t know,” Adam shrugged. “How common of a name do you think it is?”

“Remember when you had that massive crush on Gunnar, Charlie?” Connie teased before taking a sip of her soda.

“I didn’t have a crush on Gunnar.”

“You so did,” Fulton laughed, nudging. “How many hours did you spend watching tapes of his signature shot?”

“That was research,” Charlie insisted, though his cheeks were slightly pink.

“Yeah, you definitely needed to spend all that time on just Gunnar Stahl and not the rest of Iceland,” Guy faux agreed with an exaggerated wink.

Adam remained quiet. He remembered Charlie’s “not a crush” all too well. He wasn’t proud to admit it, but he’d been jealous at the time.

At first it had been, look at this shot. Or look at this play.

And then after the games it was, he’s so nice and cool. He called me ‘Captain Duck’.

Charlie hadn’t shut up about him until they were on the plane home and he promptly knocked out on Adam’s shoulder. Number ninety-nine didn’t have it in him to be jealous when he got to have a sleeping Charlie Conway on top of him.

Tuning back into the conversation after his quick jaunt down memory lane, Adam realized they were still ribbing Charlie.

“Okay, fine. I might have had a little crush on him. I was young. I was still figuring myself out,” Charlie admitted.

“Figures your first crush would be on a hockey player,” Fulton pointed out.

“Who said he was my first crush?”

Adam swore Charlie’s gaze darted to him, and he felt his cheeks heat up.

“Well you literally never talked about anybody else like that before him,” Guy said.

“Except Banks,” Fulton added.

The three of them looked at Adam and he knew he was bright red. They all knew he’d had a crush on Charlie when they were kids. And that he still sort of had a crush on him. He could kick Fulton right now, and he would have if Charlie wasn’t sitting in between them.

“I still talk about Banksy all the time.”

“I’m right here,” Adam finally managed to grumble.

Charlie grinned and nudged him with his shoulder, before throwing an arm around him.

“Are we really gonna sit here and argue over who I did or did not have a crush on twenty something years ago?”

“Yes.” The other three nodded emphatically.

Charlie rolled his eyes.

“Alright fine. Yes, I had a crush on him. But laugh all you want. You have that crush to thank for these seats,” Charlie reminded them smugly.

“What do you mean?” Adam choked out as the others gasped.

Charlie looked at the four flabbergasted ducks in confusion.

“Gunnar got me the tickets. I thought you guys knew.”

“We didn’t know that,” Guy nearly shouted.

“You kept in touch with him all these years?” Connie asked softly.

Their captain shrugged.

“We were pen pals. And now we email every few weeks.”

Adam’s heart clenched in something that felt a lot like jealousy – a lot like when he was 14. He turned his attention to the game, Stahl was on the ice. Adam couldn’t help but track his movements. It had been years since he moved like that. Another squeeze.

It was going to be a long night.

Charlie noticed the instant Adam went rigid, but he couldn’t understand why. After all, he was the one being teased for a 20 year old crush that only lasted for a minute.

He tried to nudge his best friend and get a response, but Adam’s eyes were glued to the game. That wouldn’t have worried Charlie, but the tight set of his jaw was nothing like his usual relaxed joy at the games. That was one of the reason Charlie had made it a point to go to as many hockey games with Adam as he could. He loved to observe him while he watched the game. But right now, his expression was stony.

When Gunnar managed a hat trick early in the third, Adam abruptly excused himself, saying he needed to go to the bathroom.

“What’s up with Banks?” Fulton voiced Charlie’s question aloud.

Charlie shrugged. “No clue.”

Connie rolled her eyes.

“Boys. He’s jealous.”

“Of what?”

“God, Charlie, are you that oblivious?”

His brow furrowed and he stared at her.

“What are you talking about?”

She huffed and shook her head.

“Nope. If you can’t figure it out after 25 years, you’re on your own.”

Adam was less grumpy, but still pretty sedate when he returned with only a few minutes left to go.

“You alright?” Charlie asked in a low voice as he settled back into his seat.

“Yeah. All good. Long line for the bathroom.”

Charlie didn’t believe him, but shrugged it off as the Wilds managed a late game comeback and beat the Anaheim Mighty Ducks and they were all on their feet cheering.

The five of them waited outside the side exit where the players would come out for Gunnar. The former Iceland captain signed a few autographs before he caught sight of Charlie and waved, flashing him a big smile.

“Good to see you, Captain Duck!” he shouted as he pulled Charlie into a tight hug.

“Good to see you too, Gunnar. Nice playing tonight.”

“Thank you.” Gunnar turned his attention to the rest of the Ducks. “It’s good to see you all too.”

There were various murmurs of agreement, before an awkward silence fell.

“Drinks?” Charlie finally suggested.

“Definitely.”

Drinks helped. Everyone loosened up by the second round. Even Adam, though he was not that talkative. He could see why Charlie would have kept in touch with the Icelander. He really was quite charming.

That did not help.

When Charlie stepped away from the table to get another pitcher, Gunnar slid into his vacated seat. Adam panicked for a moment. Guy and Connie were deep in conversation and Fulton had gone to the bathroom, it was just the two of them.

“You know, Captain Duck still never shuts up about you.”

“Still?” Adam asked, fixated on the word.

“At the Goodwill Games, when we spoke for the first time at the closing ceremony, Charlie wouldn’t stop raving about you. How he’d been worried about you being hurt. He even glared at Sanderson. And in his letters, he always talked about you. In every single one. I think I knew more about how you were doing than I did about him.”

“Sorry?”

Adam had no idea how to respond. Gunnar chuckled and shook his head.

“It’s sweet. I’m glad the two of you have made it this far. You’re a good pair.”

Adam’s jaw dropped and he floundered for an answer.

“Thanks?”

“Thanks what?”

Of course Guy chose that moment to resurface from his conversation.

“For saying I played well back in ’94,” Adam lied unconvincingly.

Charlie’s return halted the conversation, and Adam couldn’t help but think about what Gunnar had said. Why would Charlie be talking about him? Did Gunnar think they were together? Why did Gunnar think they were together?

His head was spinning. And it definitely wasn’t the alcohol. Per usual, it was all Charlie Conway’s fault.

Charlie was playing with the edge of his jersey when Adam pulled up to his house.

“Do you want to come in for a bit?” he offered.

“Yeah, sure,” Adam agreed.

“Oh. Okay. Cool.”

Charlie had been expecting him to bail. That was what Adam did when things got tense between them, so his easy agreement caught him off guard.

He pulled two beers from the fridge and took a moment to steel himself before rejoining Adam in the living room.

“It was a great game.”

“Yeah. Ducks were smart when they got Gunnar.”

“Definitely.”

“So, why didn’t you tell any of us that you were still talking to him?”

The former captain tried to gauge Adam’s mood, but he was surprisingly nonchalant.

“I didn’t really think about it. When we were writing actual letters, I’d get one maybe three times a year. So it just never came up. And then we started emailing and it was just something I did. It never seemed like a big deal.”

“So it’s not because you’ve been carrying a torch for him all these years?” Adam asked shyly.

The laughter that bubbled out of Charlie was loud and somewhat alarming.

“Of course not, Banksy. I mean, yes, I had a crush on him. For what seems like five seconds at this point in our lives. He’s just someone I liked to keep in touch with. Another person to talk hockey with. Honestly, I thought we’d last like two letters and then never talk again.”

“Have you seen him before?”

“No. Tonight’s the first time I’ve seen him since we left the games. This isn’t some big torrid affair I’ve been hiding. It’s a pen pal. Who got us tickets to a Wilds game.”

“That was pretty cool.”

“Are we good?”

Adam nodded. “We’re good. Sorry, it was just unexpected.”

“That’s fair. I really thought I had told you guys at some point over the years. Sorry I sprang it on you… unintentionally.”

“No worries.”

It was comfortable for a bit. Charlie put on ESPN and they caught the highlights from the other games that had been played. Somehow he ended up leaning heavily into Adam’s side.

“Was he your first?” He asked as the commentators went over the same play for the third time.

“Was who my first what?” Charlie asked, letting his head loll to the side so he could look at Adam without pulling away.

“Was Gunnar your first crush?”

It came out in a sigh.

“No. He wasn’t.”

“Who was it?”

“Guess.”

“Charlie.”

“I’m serious. Guess. I’ll even give you 5 questions to try and figure it out.”

Charlie wasn’t going to admit it without a fight, and Adam knew it. Curiosity got the better of him.

“Fine. Was your first crush a hockey player?”

“Yes.”

“Someone on our team?”

Charlie nodded, sitting up so he could watch him more closely.

“Boy or girl?”

“Boy.”

“Peewees or Goodwill Games?”

“Met him in Peewees. Realized I had a crush on him during the Goodwill Games.”

“Did he go to Eden Hall?”

“Yes. I even roomed with him at one point. That’s five. Time to guess.”

He was certain he’d know now.

“Fulton?” Adam asked innocently.

Charlie hung his head.

“You cannot possibly be this obtuse, Banksy.”

“What? You met him in Peewees, he was with us at the games and at Eden hall and you roomed with him sophomore year.”

“Christ,” he huffed. “It’s you, Banksy. Not Fulton. God, definitely not Fulton. He’s like my brother. It’s you.”

“Me? You had a crush on me?”

“I mean, can you call it a crush if it lasts 25 years?”

Adam’s jaw hit the floor.

“You still have a crush on me?” His voice was small, so much like that 10 year old who’d been forced to leave the Hawks. But there was hope.

Charlie, momentarily panicked before resigning himself to his fate. It had to come out.

“No, Adam. I don’t have a crush on you now.”

His best friend deflated slightly.

“I’m in love with you now. I have been for as long as I can remember. Even if I didn’t realize it. And I know you probably don’t feel the same way –“

“I do. Feel the same way. God, Charlie. I’ve been in love with you for ages.”

“Seriously?”

Adam nodded once, resolutely before Charlie’s lips were on his.

The kiss was quick and hungry and it left them both wanting more.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Charlie demanded in a whisper as he pulled back, touching their foreheads together.

“Why didn’t you?” Adam sniped back.

“Touche. God so much lost time.”

“We didn’t lose anything, Charlie. We were together. That’s never a loss.”

“I love you, Banksy.”

“I love you too, Charlie.”

A/N: Yeah so I love them. I hope you enjoyed this. I stand by my theory that Charlie had a brief infatuation with Gunnar Stahl. Thanks for reading!

#Charlie Conway x Adam Banks #Charlie Conway #Adam Banks #Chadam #Mighty Ducks #d2 the mighty ducks #d3 the mighty ducks #the mighty ducks

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jerzwriter · 3 years

Text

Delaying the Inevitable - Chapter 15- Tea & Empathy (Re-Post)

Book: Open Heart 3 (Post Series)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC Tobias Carrick x F!MC

Rating: Chapter: Teen

Summary: Extended Series WIP – Love Triangle. In this chapter: Tobias continues to offer Casey support after her break-up; Ethan confronts Tobias, and Tobias confronts Floria; Naveen learns the truth; Casey fills her friends in.

Category: Extended Series (WIP)

Warnings: Angst, loss, heartbreak, language

A/N: Sorry to tag you all again - I'm an idiot and accidentally deleted the original post 😭😭😭😭. So I wanted to make sure anyone who hadn't read it was tagged. I lost all your wonderful comments and reposts - which I love - so I'm bummed- but shit happens I guess. :(

A/N 1:Hey readers! Everyone OK? I know I’ve been putting you through the ringer, so thank you for sticking it out. Casey is still nursing a broken heart (you don’t get over something like that overnight) so there is still some sadness ahead, but it will be something to watch her come back to life. Stay tuned.

A/N 2: Ethan is in this chapter, but it is more focused on Casey and also on Tobias’s perspective. I’m curious to see where everyone stands now. Team Ethan, Team Tobias, or Team let David Gandy find this poor girl and whisk her away? 😊

A/N3: Even though this entire chapter covers just one day, it is LONG. I’m sorry! Though I know some of you are a-ok with it. Keep your comments and feedback coming. I am loving some of the DM’s that turn into the greatest conversations! Thanks for your support you guys are THE BEST.

CHARACTERS BELONG TO PIXELBERRY STUDIOS

If you wish to be added or removed from tags, please let me know. Comments and reblogs always appreciated. 😊

Casey woke up on her stomach, enveloped by an unfamiliar plush, white comforter and a sea of luxurious pillows. Without moving, she rolled her eyes around to take in her surroundings. That’s when she experienced the moment. Anyone who has suffered a serious loss knows the moment. During a time where sleep is the only escape from a painful reality, there is one brief, blissful moment upon waking when your mind is not confident that the loss was real. For a nanosecond, it feels as if it were all a nightmare and there is an overwhelming sense of relief. But the harsh truth always follows, causing the world to come crumbling down all over again. Limbs turn to lead, the brain sees no reason to rise, and the heart sears a hole within the chest. Casey just experienced the moment.

She didn’t move. She felt like she couldn't move. She peered at the clock on the nightstand: 8:00 AM. Tobias was supposed to wake her before he left. It wasn’t like him to break his word. He probably thought I needed more sleep. He wouldn’t be incorrect, she certainly did; but the thought of waking up alone to an empty apartment she was only vaguely familiar with was too much for her to bear today. She buried her face into the mattress, afraid to even lift her head. I don’t have the strength for this.

Fifteen minutes passed and Casey had not moved an inch when she was startled by a knock on the door. She was frightened at first. Tobias’s shift began at 7:00 today, so who could this be?

“Who is it?” she yelled as she reluctantly rolled over.

“It’s me,” Tobias’s voice bellowed back.

“Oh, Tobias, come in.”

Tobias opened the door to his guest room. There she was, all but lost in the down comforter billowed around her, with an absolutely adorable case of bedhead, and his entirely too big t-shirt draped over her body. If the vacant look on her face hadn't completely broken his heart, this would have been the closest thing to perfection that he had ever seen. In fact, it still was.

“Good morning, Case. How are you doing?” he said, his voice a whisper.

She shrugged gently, “I thought you left without waking me.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, careful to keep a respectable distance.

“Casey, I would never break a promise to you. I thought you should get a little more sleep, and I wanted to spend some time with you before I head out, so I notified the hospital that I'd be in late today.”

Casey smiled. Though she felt like absolute hell, it was also a blessing to have Tobias as a friend. He could not have been more kind or supportive, and she desperately needed both of those things right now.

“That’s so nice of you, T. You didn’t have to do that….”

“I don’t have to do anything but die and pay taxes, Sweetheart. I wanted to. Did you sleep at all?”

“Thanks to the Tylenol PM you left for me, yes, I managed to get a little.”

“Some is better than none.” He gently put his hand on her arm, “Case, you’re trembling.”

“I guess I am. When I woke up, for a moment, I thought that maybe it was… never mind, it’s real. It all happened. Then I thought you were gone, and I would have to face the morning alone and….”

“I’m here, Casey. You’re not alone.”

She squeezed his hand and smiled.

“I’m going to make you breakfast. What would you like?”

“Oh, I’ll just get some cereal in the….”

“Let me repeat that. I’m going to make you breakfast. What would you like?”

“Eggs? Scrambled?”

“You got it. Toast?”

“Sure?”

“Whole grain, white?”

Casey laughed and that made Tobias warm up inside. He got her to laugh, now.

"Tobias, did you wait tables to get through med school by any chance?”

“No, I didn’t. Now, type of toast, please?”

“Whole grain.”

“OK, so scrambled eggs, whole-grain toast, a side of home fries, and some bacon coming up? Does that sound good?”

“It sounds like too much for you to do before heading to work.”

He ignored her. “Would you like to eat in the kitchen, or should I bring a tray to you in here.”

“I’ll come out.”

“I think that’s a good idea. I washed your clothes; I’ll bring them in so you can change.”

“Tobias, I really can’t thank you….”

“What did I tell you last night?”

“Thank you when you’ve done something worth thanking you for. But Tobias, you have, you are. I don’t know how I would have gotten through last night without you, and I am never going to forget this.”

Tobias smiled softly, “I'm instituting a no thank you rule. Casey, you're going through hell right now and you need to know that there is nothing I wouldn't do to help you through it. You're not alone, and you don't have to keep thanking me.”

Casey scooched over and threw her arms around Tobias. At first, he held his own arms out, a few inches away from her body, but then he gingerly placed them on her, fully accepting her embrace. He was conscious of the fact that he was sitting in a bed, embracing the woman he loved as she wore his t-shirt; and he was doing everything in his power to refrain from even the thought of impropriety because… because he loved her.

His visceral reaction was to protect her, and protecting her included never taking advantage of her. It wasn’t going to happen. Yet, he couldn’t deny how incredible this feeling was because, until now, it was something that only existed in his dreams.

He was the first to pull back.

“Let me get to breakfast before it gets too late.”

“Sure,” she grinned, “I’ll get changed.”

__________

Casey got dressed and put her hair in a messy bun before heading to the kitchen. She didn’t feel good, but she didn’t feel terrible, and that terrified her. She remembered how she felt after she survived the assassination attempt. Extreme emotions came in waves. The sense of calm she felt now would inevitably turn into raging despair again without a moment's notice. She was scared as hell of being alone when it happened, but there really was no other choice, she'd have to face it.

When she walked to the kitchen, Tobias had her breakfast, orange juice, and a cup of tea, just the way she liked it, waiting for her.

“You’re spoiling me. I feel like I’m in a 5-star hotel! When I find whatever closet I will be moving into, it’s going to be culture shock!”

Tobias chuckled, “Well, luckily for you, there will be no need to move into a closet. Don’t worry about where you’re going for now. You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need. You’ve got enough on your mind, so let me ease it a bit for you. You will never be on the street, and you’re not going to end up in some shithole. Until you can get properly situated, you are more than welcome to stay here.”

“Am I allowed to say thank you to that, T. Because I think that’s thank-you worthy?”

He picked a clean dishrag up and playfully tossed it at her. “Enough.”

Casey smiled and continued eating. “When will you be heading in?”

He looked at his watch, “Probably in about 20 minutes. Are you sure you’re OK to be alone here? If not, I have no problem calling out.”

“No, no, Tobias. I will be… well, maybe not fine, but I’ll make it through. I have to l, right?”

Tobias reached over the table and touched gently touched her hand, “Yes, you do. I am proud of you, you're facing this with such bravery. But it’s day one, and there is no shame in saying you need someone to be with you today.”

“I know. And I am frightened, and I can pretty much guarantee you that I will end up burying my face into a pillow and screaming several times today. But I think I'll be OK."

“Well, I can be home from the hospital in 10 minutes and I'm just a phone call away. If you need me, you call.”

“I know, T.”

“Now, I don’t want to push you, but have you given any thought to telling your friends? I just want you to have everyone at your disposal if you should need help.”

“It’s just that… I’m so ashamed, Tobias.”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of, Sweetheart. And you know they’ll feel the same way.”

“Can they come here?”

“You don’t even have to ask.”

“And you’ll stay with me when I tell them?”

“What part of whatever you need aren’t you getting?” he said with a grin.

“Now, how do I ask them to come here without raising suspicion.”

“Easy, you let me take care of it. Is 8:00 good?”

“Yes.”

“Consider it done. Now, I’m heading out but, remember if you need something and don’t call me, I’m gonna be pissed….”

“I promise,” she said, extending her pinky. He smiled as his pinky met hers.

“I haven’t made a pinky swear in a good 30-years, but it works. I’ll see you later, Kid.”

____________________

Ethan slumped his head over the steering wheel after he parked his car. In a way, he was grateful that Casey had decided to call out today. It was going to be difficult to find a new rhythm and establish a working relationship again.

With everything so raw, a reprieve was not the worst idea. He looked at the passenger seat and his chest tightened. He did this to try to stop the hurt, not make it worse. But all he could see was Casey sitting there, smiling at him, leaning over to give him one last kiss before going inside. A trip to the Amazon didn’t seem like such a bad idea right now.

He felt a little better once he was inside. This is the one place he felt like he still had some control. Most people feared him, and the scowl upon his face today pretty much assured him no one would dare cross his path. Not everyone was Casey. From day one she did not give a damn. Everyone else would cower to him, but she stood her own. That was just one of the reasons he found her so attractive... but why was he thinking about that? He needed to stop.

He inserted the key into his office door when he heard Naveen calling him from down the hall.

“Ethan, my boy, do you have a moment?”

“Of course.”

“Let’s go to my office.”

“Ethan, I just wanted to make sure everything is OK. How is Casey feeling this morning?”

Ethan looked at him, perplexed. “What, what do you mean?”

“Well, a note was transmitted to me from Kenmore’s ER stating she’s to be out of work for the next three days. I was surprised to see she went to Kenmore and not here. Is everything alright?”

Ethan looked like a dear in the headlights. When Casey asked him not to tell anyone about their break-up, he was relieved. To be honest, he would have been fine just letting everyone assume they were still together indefinitely. He certainly had not prepared for this situation to occur first thing in the morning.

“Well… she… last night… she….”

Naveen knew Ethan too well; he narrowed his eyes and looked at his mentee.

“Ethan, you know better than to be dishonest with me. What is going on?”

Ethan put his elbows on his knees and stared at the floor below him.

“The truth of the matter is… that Casey and I broke up yesterday.”

Naveen’s eyes went wide and he let out a gasp.

“Ethan… I can’t believe… are, are you ok?”

“Yes,” he swallowed, “I’ll be fine.”

“My boy, I’m so… you must be devastated. Did she give you a reason? You appeared to be so happy.”

Ethan exhaled and braced for the impact. “She didn’t leave me, Naveen. I broke up with her.”

A look of bewilderment rested on Naveen’s face, and he was temporarily rendered speechless.

“Ethan. Wasn’t she moving in with you, tomorrow?”

“Yes. That had been the plan.”

“And where is she now?”

“I… I don’t know. She won’t share that information with me.”

Naveen got up and walked to the window. “Ethan, I know you love her. I have never seen you so happy. What on earth possessed you to leave her?”

“It’s for the best, Naveen, for both of us.”

“Ethan, what are you talking about?”

“Naveen, you know better than anyone. I never wanted that life... serious commitment, possibly marriage... children, I never wanted it… but I let myself get weak. I love Casey, and I knew she wanted that, so I allowed myself to believe I could change in order to be with her. It was a mistake.”

Naveen raised his voice when he spoke. “A mistake? Casey... and you… that was not a mistake. What on earth transpired to….”

He trailed off as the realization came to him.

“Oh…Ethan. This is because of Louise. You’re putting up those protective walls again, because of Louise.”

“I’m doing what I need to do to be happy, Naveen."

"Happy?"

"I was content with my life before. I knew my limits. If Louise had come back then, I would not have given her the time of day. But here I am. I'm meant to be alone, Naveen. Don't think I'm all that different from Louise. I can't have people too close, it's not good for me, and it's not good for them."

"Ethan, what are you talking about?"

"I'm not meant to live that life, Naveen. It would only be a matter of time before I needed to escape. It's better that it happened now. She’s young, she’s beautiful, and she deserves the life she’s dreamed of, one she'll never get with me. It’s better this way. I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Yes. I’m sure she isn't hurting at all today. That's why a young woman I had to beg to take more than a week off after she nearly died is going to miss three days of work. I'm sure she is overjoyed today. Ethan, do you love her?”

“Yes. But love isn’t enough.”

Naveen silently returned to his chair and ripped a page from his memo pad. He lifted his fountain pen and scribbled on it before handing it to Ethan.

“I am familiar with each of them. They are the best psychotherapists in Massachusetts. Only one is affiliated with Edenbrook, so if you wish to go elsewhere, you can. Call Casey today. Call her now and explain what is going on. Beg her for her forgiveness. Then make your appointment. Go alone, go together, but fix this, Ethan.”

Ethan looked at the slip of paper before placing it back on Naveen’s desk.

“I appreciate your concern. But I think it is time that you start to understand that I know what is best for me, and….”

“No!” Naveen said forcefully. “Not right now, you absolutely do not know what’s best for you, and as a friend, as your family, I would be remiss if I didn’t point that out. You are suffering from trauma, Ethan, and you should not be making important decisions right now. I am begging you to please reconsider.”

“Naveen, you know how I feel about you. You’re one of the only steadfast sources in my life. But I need you to respect me now. I am not calling Casey. I ended it for a reason, and nothing has changed. Also, if I need counseling, you will be the first person I call, but it's not necessary. Now, I have a team to run, and, apparently, I will be doing so down one person for the next three days. So I am going to take my leave.”

“Have you told Alan?” Naveen asked just as Ethan put his hand on the doorknob.

“No. There is no need . I will tell him when it is necessary, and I ask that you refrain from doing the same.”

Naveen closed his eyes and shook his head. He hoped there would be a way to reach Ethan before it was too late.

____________________

Tobias arrived in the team’s office at 10:00 AM sharp. Harper looked up at him and immediately noticed a shift from his usual demeanor.

“Hey, is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just a little tired,” he shot her a smile, “thanks for asking, though.”

She remained unconvinced but nodded in acknowledgment.

Ethan entered the room brusquely and loudly dropped his folders on the table before falling into his seat.

Tobias was tense and shifted in his seat. Harper looked between the two men, it was apparent that something was not right.

“I’m keeping it brief today,” Ethan said gruffly, “Casey will be out for the next three days. I will be reassigning her cases among the three of us today.”

Harper turned her head to Ethan. In their world, no one was ever out for more than a day unless there was a serious issue.

“Three days? Ethan, is Casey ok?”

“She is ill, Harper. Otherwise, a physician wouldn’t put her out for three days.”

Harper looked at Tobias who was looking down at the table with a clenched jaw. Ethan followed Harper's gaze and when Tobias raised his head, he caught both of his co-workers staring at him.

“Yes? Can I help either of you?” He asked, annoyed.

“No. I’m sorry, Tobias. This is just an… unusual morning,” Harper replied.

“Yes, it is. So if we can get the focus back on work. I will be reassigning cases. I have the lightest load now, so I will take over the majority….”

Tobias’s wheels were spinning. If Ethan took over most of Casey’s cases, that would require them to interact even more than normal upon her return. He thought quickly and interrupted Ethan.

“Ethan, you have follow-up reporting to do for the Mayo research this week, and that will eat a lot of your time. My schedule is not that packed, at least not for our line of work. Why don’t you shift the bulk to me?”

Ethan lifted his eyebrows; Harper could feel the tension in the room.

“If you think you can handle it, then, of course, the work is yours. I’ll reassign everything in the system after our meeting.”

Tobias nodded curtly, “Happy to do it.”

The meeting ended and Harper intended to walk out with Tobias to ascertain what was happening, but her plan was quickly thwarted.

“Tobias,” Ethan commanded, “hang back for a moment, I’d like to discuss something with you. Harper, please close the door on your way out."

Harper eyed Tobias who winked at her and gave her a slight smile. “It’s OK,” he mouthed.

Tobias fell back into his chair. “Yes, boss. What can I do for you?”

“You didn’t seem concerned, or surprised, about Casey. I found that unusual.”

Tobias tilted his head. “Well, what reaction were you hoping to elicit from me?”

“You are good friends, no? To be out three days she clearly doesn't have a standard cold; still, you didn’t flinch.”

He is trying to get information out of me. HE has no idea why Casey is out, and he wants me to tell him. Son of a bitch.

“Ethan, considering that you’re here, I think it’s fair to assume it’s not life-threatening.”

“Apparently, she was treated by a doctor at Kenmore. Do you know anything about that?”

Tobias was concerned about Ethan. He knew his friend was hurting, but he did not appreciate the game he was playing with him right now. Tobias leaned back confidently in his chair.

“Ethan, why are you asking me about your girlfriend’s medical treatment? Wouldn’t that fall into your purview more than it does mine?”

Ethan looked at Tobias with a sardonic grin. “Yes, I suppose. Unless of course, she is under the assumption that she might be pregnant. Then clearly you would be her preferred companion. So, I think you can see why I thought you might have information about her that I am not privy to.”

Tobias wanted to take the gloves off. But, for Casey’s sake, he hung tight.

“Ethan, why are you beating that dead horse? Now? What is of importance to me is Casey, and I find it concerning that she is ill and you seem to be unaware of it or even why she was treated. Based on that, is there anything you would like to share with me?”

Ethan turned to his laptop and silently began tapping on the keyboard. After a moment, he turned to Tobias.

“No, there isn't. I transferred Casey’s cases to you. It’s complete in the system now. I suggest you get to work. You’re going to be quite busy the next few days.”

“Trust I will be,” Tobias said as he exited the room.

____________________

Tobias was heated. He needed to come to Casey's aid twice within the past week. Two times he helped her put herself back together, and on both occasions, it was Ethan who broke her. Tobias was not a fool, he knew that last night was a patch-up job at best. The injuries she endured would not heal quickly, and the scars would likely last a lifetime. And he did this to her!

He didn’t even know that she sat weeping on a cold sidewalk. He never saw a stranger standing over her because they knew she was unsafe. A stranger was too concerned to leave her alone in that state, yet he allowed her to walk out of his front door without a care. He didn’t feel the way her trembling reverberated in the back seat during the ride to his home. His home, the place where she was seeking refuge because of the damage Ethan inflicted on her.

Now, he had the audacity to bring up Casey turning to him, as a friend, once before. Right about now, Ethan should be thanking God Casey had him to come to when she was in distress. She didn't end up safely asleep last night because of any of his efforts.

He needed to cool down. There was no way he could be caring for patients in this mindset. He grabbed a coffee in the cafeteria and sat at a table next to the window. He peered outside in an attempt to reset his mind. He pulled out his phone to check in on Casey:

He chuckled. Leave it to her. She was the one in distress, yet, without her knowledge, it took one text to make him laugh and center him. He smiled and stood up, ready to tackle his day, when someone snuck up behind him, literally making him jump.

A woman’s voice chortled, and he turned to see Bryce and Jackie laughing behind him.

“He got you, T,” Jackie said with a grin.

“Yes, he did. Once again, Bryce is the king of the playground until recess is over.”

“What is life if not one large playground, T? So, I humbly thank you.”

Tobias shook his head, “I’ve missed you, buddy. You up for a drink soon?”

“As I stand here like chopped freaking liver? No, it’s OK Tobias, I don’t drink anymore. I’ve entered a convent, so of course, there is no way I would want to join you.”

“Of course, you’re included, wiseass. It wouldn’t be the same without you. Besides, the nuns would throw you on the street within twenty minutes.”

“I'm impressed you think I would make it that long,” she laughed.

“Look, I need to pull the friend card, OK? Could you guys come by my place tonight, 8:00? It's important, and I am going to ask you to not ask questions, just trust me. Someone needs our help. ”

“T, ou can’t just drop that on us. What's up?"

“Jackie, I promise you, I’m not trying to be glib, but it’s not my story to tell.”

“OK, T… can you possibly give us a vowel? You’re worrying me.” Bryce asked.

“Yeah, I’ll give you a vowel and let you solve the whole damn puzzle tonight. Will you be there?”

“Uh, sure, I’ll be there. I’ll make sure meathead is too.”

“Good, then I’ll see you both tonight, and thanks for trusting me on this."

____________________

As the end of his shift approached, Tobias was heading back to the diagnostic office. He was anxious to get back to Casey; he hated the idea of her being alone all day. In the distance, he saw Ethan conversing with someone. They had only seen each other twice since this morning. Each time Ethan offered a nod of his head with a curt “Carrick” as he passed by. Tobias was not pleased. Even if he was acting like an asshole right now, Ethan was a friend who was going through hell. Since coming to Edenbrook, he had worked hard to reestablish their friendship, and things were going well. Now, everything felt like a tinderbox.

As he got closer, he realized it was Floria Ethan was speaking to. Tobias involuntarily rolled his eyes when he saw her.

“Hello Tobias, lovely to see you too!” she mocked.

“Cavorting with the enemy?” Tobias asked Ethan.

Ethan wasn’t amused. “We’re discussing our interdepartmental budget. As my backup, you should probably join the conversation.”

“Whatever you say, boss. Want to do this now?”

“No, I need to head home. But I’ll put something on all of our calendars tonight. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to be going.”

Once Ethan was outside of hearing range, Floria smirked as she turned on her high heels.

“Delightful seeing you as always, Tobias.”

“Actually, not so fast, Floria. Let’s make some time…now. Follow me.”

They walked into the diagnostic team office and Tobias shut the door behind them.

“Oh, Tobias,” she laughed, “if you wanted to get me alone, all you had to do is….”

“Yeah, don't hold your breath waiting for that to happen.”

“So then to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You wouldn’t happen to have any papers for me to complete, would you?”

“No, not at the moment,” she said, perplexed.

“Floria, I might be an idiot sometimes, but I’m not a goddamn idiot all the time. A half-hour after I completed paperwork in your office, a forged record of a private medical procedure for a non-diagnostic patient ends up on Ethan’s desk. Do yourself a favor and don’t take me for a fool.”

“Well, if you were signing off on procedures that weren’t yours, I don’t see how that is my fault.”

“I didn’t. I don’t. I triple-check everything I sign, which is why I know for a fact I never signed off on the records in question. But I recall a certain admin at Hopkins who was quite adept at copying her boss’s signature. How much did you use to charge students to forge their documents? I forget what the going rate was back then.”

She rolled her eyes, “Tobias, my forgery skills aren’t quite what they used to be. Besides, the file was electronic and came from the ER, so I wouldn’t be able to…"

“How did you know it came from the ER, Floria? I never mentioned that. I also never mentioned the patient in question, but I think we can stop playing games based on your reply. You know exactly who and what I am referring to.”

“I really don’t know what..”

“Save it.”

He lowered his voice and moved to stare her down. “Floria, I thought I made myself clear to you, but since your comprehension skills are lacking, I’m going to spell it out… do not fuck with me. Do not fuck with Ethan. And do not fuck with Casey. This is your last warning. One more thing, and I promise, I will destroy you. Do you understand?”

Floria didn’t flinch, “One more threat like that, Tobias, and I will be happy to take it to Human Resources….”

He chuckled, “You do that. Please. Between me and some of our mutual friends, I can hand HR shit on you going back 20-years that would make your head spin. I don’t want to open those cans of worms, Floria, but push my hand… Don’t hurt the people I love because I will have no mercy if you do.”

She tilted her head and smiled, “The people you love, Tobias. Love is such a strong word.”

“It is. It’s also one you are incapable of understanding. You do not want to play with me. Are we clear?”

Floria stood up and smiled, “Tobias, you are crystal clear. But I’m not worried. I didn’t do anything, nor do I plan on. Don’t worry, I’ll see myself out.”

____________________

While most of the people who mattered to her toiled away at Edenbrook, Casey holed up in Tobias’s apartment. She thought of taking a walk to the park, but it was best for her to stay inside. She couldn’t risk running into co-workers. Instead, she sat on the balcony off Tobias’s bedroom and soaked in some sun, but the view of the skyline only made her think of all the times she and Ethan watched the sunset over it on his couch.

It was impossible not to think of him. Their lives were perfectly intertwined. The shock was still so new that, sometimes, she found herself forgetting he had left her. A commercial for an event at Tanglewood later this fall came on after the news, and her first thought was, “I should get tickets for us…”. Only after did it dawn on her that there no longer was an "us", and it felt as if another spoonful of salt was thrown on top of her open wound.

Naps were her greatest refuge, so she took full advantage of them. They were easy to come by since she was crying herself into exhaustion.

Also, though she’d never tell Tobias, she did forget to eat lunch. She was reasonably famished but lacked the energy or desire to move to the kitchen, so another nap felt like a good idea.

When Tobias returned home, he found Casey rolled up into a ball, fast asleep on his couch. The television remote was still in her hand. He couldn’t help but smile; he found everything about her endearing.

There was still some time before her friends would arrive, and he didn’t have the heart to wake her. She could sleep a little longer. But as he turned to walk away, she called out to him.

“T….” she said groggily, “Where are you going?”

Tobias returned and sat on the floor, in front of her.

“I’m not going anywhere, Sweetheart. What do you need?”

“Just stay by me,” she replied sadly, “How was work?”

“It was work.”

She sat up on the couch and he moved to join her. “Did… anyone… say anything about me being out?”

“Yes. Ethan announced it during our meeting.”

“Oh.”

“Has he contacted you at all?”

“No. Not today. He did late last night, though. He asked if I was OK and if I had a place to stay.”

“What did you say?”

“I told him to fuck off.”

Tobias shook his head and laughed. “Did you?”

Casey smiled back, “I didn’t actually say those words. But I did tell him it was none of his business and that he forfeited the right to ask.” she shrugged.

“He was curious about your condition today. He quizzed me after the team meeting.”

Casey’s brow furrowed. “You didn’t tell him….”

“Casey, I gave you my word. But I think the doctor’s note coming from Kenmore led him to assume I was involved and, I mean, he’s not wrong… but I don’t have to confirm that.”

She smiled. “I appreciate it. Oh, I also got texts from Jackie, Bryce, and Sienna asking me why you summonsed them to your apartment tonight. I just left them unread. I didn’t know what to say.”

“Yeah, that was probably my fault. I was a bit cryptic, they’re all busy, and I needed them to know it was important to be here. I’m glad you’re telling them. You shouldn’t be worried about communicating with them, you know?”

“I do.”

“Now, I could tell nothing was touched in the kitchen all day, and that means you didn’t eat. So the nanny cam will be installed tomorrow at 9:00, but until then, get your ass in the kitchen. It’s dinner time.”

“Yes, Dad.”

“Oh, God, please don’t call me Dad, Case.”

She laughed.

“I had planned on cooking for you, but in the interest of time, you’ll just have to make do with fusilli carbonara from Antonio’s.”

“Oh, that’s perfect! See, I am right,” she said, pushing his shoulder, “you do always remember my favorites!”

Casey pierced her fork into the spiral pasta and shoved it in her mouth. She let out a soft moan, “Oh my goddddd! This is sooooo good. Oh, thank you, T!”

He shot her a look.

“Oh, shut up. I’ve been thinking on it, and this whole you’re not allowed to say thank you rule you’ve instituted? Well, it’s just bullshit.”

“It’s bullshit?”

“Yes, it is bullshit. I have officially declared it unconstitutional. So, starting right now, I am going to say THANK YOU whenever I damn well please, and you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

“Really? And what gives you the authority to declare my rules unconstitutional in my own home? Hmm?” He smirked at her as he took a fork of pasta.

“Well, you keep saying it’s all about me right now. You want me to be happy. Well, changing this ridiculous rule makes me happy. So, THANK YOU!”

She turned and looked at him with a broad smile that melted his heart. Shaking his head and biting his lip he surrendered.

“I’m going to let you win this battle, but don’t think you’re getting your way every time, OK?”

“We’ll see,” she said with a giggle. “You know, it’s so much better when you’re here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I spent most of the day sleeping. Being awake isn't easy. Basically, it was sleep, cry, sleep, cry, sleep… then I woke up, and you were here, and I haven’t cried since.”

“It’s called a distraction, Casey, and I’m glad I can be that for you right now.”

“No, it’s not just that. Tobias, I am so scared right now, I mean, I am petrified, and you…you make me feel safe.”

Tobias put his fork on his plate and reached across the table to take her hand. With a tenderness usually not found in his eyes, he looked at her and smiled.

“You know, that right there, that means more to me than any thank you ever could. As your friend, that’s all I want, to make you feel like it will be ok."

Casey couldn’t think of any words to say, so she smiled and they sat in a comfortable silence as they finished their meals.

“Well, why don’t I put these plates away. Everyone should be here soon.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Case, this is a good thing.”

“Can I at least have wine for this?”

“Sure, go pick a couple bottles out. I’ll put out glasses for anyone. Want some cheese too?”

“Tobias, are you offering to cater my breakup announcement?”

He laughed, “No, but that’s not a bad business concept. If you start that up, I may have to invest.”

“Yeah, I mean, basically, we’d need an inventory of wine, ice cream, chocolate, some other staples. Packages can vary, like your spouse telling you they want a divorce because they’re in love with your best friend is the jumbo package, maybe even a monthly subscription for a while. But if that cute guy you’ve had your eye on stands you up on your first date, well, that's probably just a cupcake.”

“I’m all in, Case,” he smiled.

Casey’s eyes went wide, “Oh shit, T! Wait. Yesterday… last night… didn’t you have a second date with Laura?"

“Yes, I did.”

“Well, what… you didn’t go?”

“No. You needed me.”

“T. That’s so…” Casey was clearly moved, “… you didn’t have to do that for me, I feel so bad….”

He stopped drying the dish in his hand and walked over and sat next to Casey.

“I met Laura once. We had a nice time over a couple of drinks. That’s the extent of our relationship. You are one of the most important people in my life, and you were in crisis. There was never a question. And you know you’d do the same if the situation was reversed, so, please, just shut up.”

She looked away sheepishly, “OK, but I guess I owe you a cupcake?”

“He laughed. Wouldn’t it actually be Laura getting the cupcake in this scenario? We may have to revisit your business model.”

He looked down at his phone.

“OK, Kid. It's showtime. Bryce just text from the lobby. Elijah is already in New Haven, and Raf is on duty, but the rest of the gang are here. You ready?”

“No,” she said nervously.

“This will be like ripping off a band-aid. It will sting, but once it’s over, you’ll feel so much better.”

“Give me my wine.”

He laughed and shook his head. “I’ll let them in. Go make yourself comfortable in the living room. I’ll be right back."

Casey walked into the living room; she was a nervous wreck.

Should I stand? Should I sit? Where should I sit? What should I say? Ugh, why didn’t I do this in a group text!... finally, she took a deep breath and slowed her mind. T is right. These are my friends who love me, it’s going to be ok.

She was pacing in the center of the living room, wine glass in hand when she heard laughter wafting in from the foyer. She turned around and looked at her friends as if a gaggle of ghosts had entered the home.

“Casey,” Jackie said, “where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to get you all day!”

“And she’s not the only one,” Bryce followed.

But Sienna saw the look on her friend's face, and she immediately knew something was wrong. She crossed the room and took Casey’s hand.

“Is everything OK?” she asked quietly, but the concern etched on her face made it clear that Sienna already knew the answer to her question.

Casey’s lip began to quiver, and her eyes glistened with tears. She shook her head from side to side.

“No.”

Her other friends were still in the kitchen, and they began to realize something was amiss. Casey looked up and locked eyes with Tobias, who nodded and walked over and stood beside her. Casey placed her wine on the coffee table and sat on the couch flanked by Sienna to her right and Tobias to her left.

“Case, what’s going on?” Bryce asked, walking into the room.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Aurora asked, her voice filled with concern.

She was facing the floor, still afraid to speak. Tilting her head up toward Tobias, he smiled and placed a comforting hand on her knee.

She feigned a smile and lifted her head.

“Thank you all for coming tonight. I wanted to do this all at once. I really, I just couldn’t bear the thought of having to say it over and over… you can fill in Elijah and Raf…” she said with a sad laugh.

Sienna was rubbing her back, “Casey, whatever it is, it’s OK. We’re here for you. You don’t have to be afraid to tell us anything."

Casey began crying at her friend's words and placed her head on her shoulder.

“I know,” she said through sniffles. “And I love you guys so much, but this is still so hard.”

Tobias gave her a supportive smile and whispered, “You got this.”

“Uhm. After I left you guys yesterday, I went home … well… I went to Ethan’s home, and…,” she tilted her head and began rubbing her temple, “he told me he didn’t want to move in with him anymore. Then he eventually let me know, he just didn’t want to be with me anymore.”

She took a deep breath when her voice began to crack. Jackie grabbed a package of tissues from her purse and ran to her side.

“So, I’m not… we’re not together anymore.”

As soon as the words exited her mouth, her tears began to flow.

Her friends were in collective shock. Some gasped; others covered their mouths. Sienna pulled Casey into a tight hug as she began tearing up too.

“Oh, Casey, no…. I’m so sorry,” she said as she rocked her friend in her arms.

Bryce ran over and Tobias stepped out of his seat so Bryce could take it.

“Case, Hun, what happened? I mean, I’d ask if you’re OK, but I know the answer….”

Aurora stood up and joined the others by the couch and the four friends wrapped her in a protective hug as she cried. Bryce looked up at Tobias, who was standing behind them. He silently mouthed, “What the fuck?” to which Tobias shrugged with a look of disgust on his face.

Casey sat up, “Thanks… thanks, you guys, I…” she grabbed a tissue from Jackie and rubbed at her nose.

Tobias tapped her shoulder from behind, “You need some water, Kid?”

She nodded gratefully.

“Case, do you want to tell us what happened?” Jackie asked tenderly.

Tobias returned with a bottle of water, and Casey took a long sip before continuing.

“In a nutshell, his mom left. He’s all kinds of fucked up, and… he blames me, and his Dad, but mostly me for making him … soft … I guess… so he’s going back to being Ethan Loner I Don’t Need Anyone Ramsey. I guess I would be an impediment to that… so he just tossed me out, like I never meant a thing."

“But Case… that’s… it’s just…how?” Jackie said.

“Exactly,” Casey answered.

“OK, I know I’m not a relationship guru here, so someone is going to have to help me out. But how the fuck is Louise leaving your fault? How is Ramsey suffering your fault?” Bryce asked furiously.

“He said he wouldn’t have let Louise back into his life if it hadn’t been for Alan and me… I don’t know, maybe we were making him human. Being abandoned by her for a second time… it has been traumatic for him and… he was looking for someone to blame.”

“Oh my God, it’s all just so sad, Casey,” Sienna said.

“It’s sad, and it’s fucked up!” Bryce was getting heated, “I can see feeling that way for a minute when it was fresh, and his mind was in another dimension, but goddamn it. I know fucked up parents first hand… but you don’t do this shit! You were moving in tomorrow? He did this to you when you were moving in tomorrow?”

Casey started crying, “Yeah, I was. Past tense, you got it.”

Jackie shot Bryce a look and gave him a “cut it” signal.

“Look, Ethan is clearly going through some heavy shit right now, but I’m sure we all agree that doing this to Casey is just seriously not cool,” Tobias said.

“That’s an understatement,” Bryce said.

Casey put her arm on Bryce’s back. “I know your mad, Bryce. Please don’t be mad at me, though.”

Bryce turned around and saw Casey’s face twisted in pain.

“Case,” he pulled her into a tight hug as she started crying, “Casey, why on earth would I be mad at you? Of course, I’m not mad at you.”

She pulled back weeping, “Bryce, because you… you were there for me after the whole Amazon thing, all of you were… but Bryce, you begged me to reconsider when I went back to him, and now... you were right and I’m just an idiot….”

“Oh, Hun, someone is a fucking idiot in this scenario, but it is not you.”

That elicited a chuckle from Casey. She sat up and leaned back into the couch, looking up at Tobias, “He kind of said something similar to that last night.”

Tobias smiled and gave her shoulder a quick squeeze.

“Last night? How, how did you end up here anyway?” Sienna asked.

“It’s kind of a long story….” Casey explained more about what happened before she left Ethan’s, how she ended up walking around aimlessly, how two strangers tried to help her and how, Tobias came upon her near the hospital.

“I’m glad you found her, and I’m glad you were safe,” Sienna said, “but honey, why didn’t you call someone? Why didn’t you let us know?”

“I was too embarrassed. I felt so stupid… I didn’t want to see anybody, if… if T hadn’t found me, I probably….”

“She probably would have been wandering around the streets of Boston on a cold night by herself for hours. I have never been so grateful for leaving my wallet behind at work if I hadn’t….”

“Well, let’s be grateful you did. Thank you, Tobias. I know we’re all grateful that she had you.” Aurora stated. “She’s safe, and we’re all here now, when she was ready to tell us, that’s all that matters.”

She sternly looked at each of the friends, a reminder to temper their own emotions to not upset Casey any further.

“Aurora is one-hundred percent right,” Jackie agreed.

Bryce eyed Tobias, and Tobias motioned to the kitchen. The women had encircled Casey and were talking, so they didn’t even know they left.

“What the fuck happened?” Bryce asked Tobias as soon as they were a safe distance away.

“Well, she gave you the gist of it. What else do you want to know?”

“I want to know how the fuck he could do this to her. How does he put anyone out on the street like that? Anyone, much less the woman he supposedly loved?”

Tobias put an arm on Bryce’s shoulder. “I don’t know. I’m not making an excuse for his behavior, but keep in mind, the guy is really not operating in a good head space right now.”

“You know, I really don’t give a shit about his head space right now. I give a shit about Casey’s head space. That one of my best friends could have ended up with God knows what happening to her. I was there last time, T. He ripped her fucking heart out and for two months, all of us tried to keep her above water. She gives him a second chance, and he does this?"

Tobias opened a beer and handed it to Bryce, “Take it. Drink it. If you need to, come with me, we’ll take a walk around the block. I get what you’re feeling, trust me. But right now, it’s not about us, it’s not even about Ramsey, it’s about Casey. And you being all angry isn’t helping her. So can you buckle up, pal?”

Bryce huffed and took the beer, “When the fuck did you become so levelheaded?”

“With age comes wisdom, my friend.”

“Wait, Casey didn’t work today, did she?”

“No, no. A buddy of mine at Kenmore gave her a doctor's note. She’s taking a few days off. She needs to. When she goes back, Ramsey will be off for two days. This way, she has some time to get a little grounded.”

“Jesus Christ! That’s right, how the fuck is she going to work with him?”

“We’ll figure it out; she’ll figure it out. Right now, let’s just get her through one minute at a time.”

“Wait, you were at work today. Did you see him?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And you didn’t take his fucking teeth out?”

“Bryce, remember what I just said? Everything needs to be about Casey right now. Trust me, I have my feelings about this, and they run deep. But I’m the one who found her. You don’t know the shape she was in. I didn’t have the luxury of caring about my feelings. It’s like at work, you get a patient, you deal with the situation at hand, and you cope with your own shit later. I get where you’re coming from, Bryce, but we have to focus.”

Bryce sighed, “I know you’re right. But, I’m just so furious.”

“I am too, but I love Casey more than I am angry at Ethan. So that has to win.”

Bryce looked at Tobias, “That’s right, you love her.”

“So do you. So does Sienna, so does Jackie...”

“Not in the same way, T.”

“Bryce, please don’t think there is any way in hell that I would use this situation. I’m not standing here as some guy who has a thing for Casey. I’m here as a friend who would take a bullet for her. The same way I would for you or anyone who means that much to me. I will not hurt her and, taking advantage of a vulnerable woman, would be hurting her pretty goddamn bad in my book. You don’t need to worry.”

“I know, just… be careful, OK?.”

“I’m always careful. Let's get inside before they think the two of us are plotting Ethan’s murder.”

“They may not be wrong,” Bryce said as they returned to the living room.

“Bryce,” he said, patting his friend's back, “I’m not going to jail for you. Just remember that.”

About an hour later, Casey was exhausted and wanted to head to bed.

“That’s my cue. I’ll go get you something to sleep in.”

Jackie crossed her arms and shot Tobias a look.

“What’s the look for, Jackie? Her things are still at Ethan’s. Until she gets them, she can sleep in my old Kenmore Bowling League T-shirts. No one dies.”

“You were on the freaking bowling league?” Bryce said.

“Yes, and I can kick your ass if you’re ever down for it.”

“You know, that reminds me,” Casey said, “I do need to get my things and, I really don’t ever want to step foot in that apartment again, so would any of you….”

“ME!” Jackie said defiantly folding her arms in front of her chest.

“I hadn’t finished….” Casey said.

“You were going to say would any of us be willing to go get your things, and the answer is yes. Jackie already called dibs. I’m next.” Bryce said.

“You know, as delightful as that sounds,” Aurora interjected, “perhaps it would be better if we had cooler heads handle this task. Tobias, what about the two of us.”

“First, I am absolutely horrified and borderline disgraced by being included in the “cooler heads” faction of this ensemble. Once this crisis has passed, I really need to work on some reputation control. But, right now, I don’t think it’s good if I go….”

“I don’t want Ethan to know where I’m staying. I’m worried that if Tobias goes, he may suspect, so I have asked him not to go.”

“Oh. So you’re going to be staying here then?” Sienna asked.

“Well, temporarily, yes.”

“Oh, OK. Well, I spent the most time with you in his apartment when you were … moving in …” Sienna looked at Casey and frowned, “so I know where a lot of your things are. As much as I would like to throw Ethan off his balcony right now, I’m willing to leave that as a fantasy and not fulfill it. So I think I should go.”

“OK, so Double O Tiny is one,” Tobias laughed.

“And I’m the other,” Jackie interjected. “I’m not joking. I’m going. I can keep my cool, but let that man step out of line and I will happily put him in his place. I’m going. You can’t stop me.”

“I don’t even have the energy to try, Jackie,” Casey said with a smile.

“I’ll recruit Raf. I know he will do it. But Bryce, until we get you medicated properly, you’re staying home,” Sienna added.

“You guys are all amazing, but I’m amazingly tired, so….”

“One oversized bowling shirt coming up!”

Casey said goodbye to her friends and headed to her room.

“Are you guys going to hang here for a few?” Tobias asked.

“Yeah, we’ll be in the kitchen raiding your cabinets… we didn’t get to eat,” Jackie said.

“Raid away,” he laughed, “I’ll be right back.”

“OK. I think we can all agree that this is some seriously messed up shit going on here,” Jackie exclaimed.

“You can say that again. I mean, I knew Ethan had some issues, but this is beyond. I mean, I know he loves Casey. I don’t get it,” Aurora added.

“No. He doesn’t. Period. You can’t do shit like this to someone and claim you love them.”

“I know, Bryce, but simmer down,” Aurora smiled.

“Look, Tobias is right. All that matters now is Casey,” Sienna said. “and right now, she is essentially homeless and can’t afford to live in Boston on her own. This happened at the worst time! We could have gotten a place with her if….”

“Do you think she could stay with you guys?” Bryce asked.

“There is no way. Our new place is nice, but it’s small. Our landlord only wanted two people in it, and our contract clearly says no more than 3 tenants are permitted,” Jackie said, “Can she stay with you, Bryce?”

“My door is always open to Casey, but I have a one-bedroom. I think she’s going to need some privacy now, and a sofa bed isn’t going to provide that.”

“What about Raf? Maybe he can have her stay with him?”

“Yeah, except for that would mean living with Vovo too. She has only been trying to convince Raf to marry Casey from the first day she met her.”

“I could ask my aunt?” Aurora said, “I know she really likes Casey, and she has a huge place.”

“Yeah, Aurora, because Ramsey’s two exes who happen to work on the same team as him living together would make for an amazing sitcom,” Jackie laughed.

“Well, to be honest, it doesn't look like T is itching to get her out anytime soon, so why are we even having this conversation?” Aurora asked.

“Because it’s just not a good idea. Casey is very…. vulnerable right now,” Sienna answered.

“Yeah, and she’ll be vulnerable at any of the other places we mentioned too,” Aurora said annoyed.

“It’s different,” Bryce said.

“Different how?” Aurora asked.

“Yeah, Bryce, different how?” Tobias said entering the kitchen.

“T, Bryce didn’t mean anything bad. It’s just… it might not be the best idea,” Sienna answered.

“I’m still waiting on the why? Either of you got anything?”

Sienna was flustered. “It’s just that Casey, right now… she’s going to be… you know….”

“Are you guys insinuating that T is going to try to put the moves on Casey or something? Guys, come on, that is fucked up!” Aurora said.

“That’s not what we are….” Bryce started.

“OK, OK, OK!!! Enough!!! You are in here arguing over where Casey should stay when Casey already has a place to stay. I’m one person living in a 3-bedroom, 3000 square-foot condo, so I think I am in the best position to offer her a place where she can be comfortable and have her privacy. If she decides it would be better elsewhere, I will support her and help her move. But there is one thing I’m not going to do. I’m not going to have you (points to Sienna and Bryce) insinuating that she is somehow unsafe here. And the second thing I am not doing is treat a brilliant 28-year-old woman like she’s a child who needs all of us to determine what’s best for her. I know we all love her, and we’re going to be protective, but enough...”

“Tobias is right, guys,” Casey said as she leaned on the wall at the entrance of the kitchen.

Everyone turned around with wide eyes.

“Look, I’m not mad. In fact, I’m lucky to have friends that care so much about me. But Tobias is right. I’m heartbroken, and I’m not in the best place emotionally, but I’m still capable of making my own decisions. Tobias has offered to let me stay here until I can find a decent place to live, and, as long as that’s OK with him, this is where I am staying.”

She looks at Bryce and Sienna, this time with annoyance, “I love you two, but I don’t know where you’re getting this ridiculousness that I’m not safe here. It’s insulting to Tobias and to me! He has been nothing but a wonderful friend, and just before you arrived, I told him how safe I feel here right now. I love you all, but let’s stop with this stuff, OK? I can handle myself and, I’m in good hands here,” she said as she leaned into Tobias.

Bryce raised an eyebrow, but one look from Tobias brought it right back down.

"You're right, Case, we're sorry, it's just..." Sienna said feeling guilty.

"It's been an emotional night for everyone," Tobias said, "it's all good."

Everyone hugged and made peace before Tobias walked them out. Casey was glad they came, and it felt so good to have their love and support, but she was happy when the room was peaceful once again.

She moved inside and sat on the couch. Tobias came in with a cup of herbal tea which he placed in front of her.

“I’m sorry you had to hear all that, Casey. They are just looking out for you.”

“I know. I also know that everyone is upset. But Bryce was going into killer dog mode, which is fine. I would do the same if someone hurt him, I’m sure, but, oh, I don’t know. And with him and Sienna acting like I’m somehow in danger here, I mean, come on. Tobias, I hope you know that I think it's ridiculous. Please don’t think that I feel that way at all.”

“No, no. Don’t worry, Kid. I know you don’t feel that way. And trust me, I’ll never give you any reason to change your mind.”

“Good. Well, you are in at 7:00 tomorrow, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yeah, and I have a hell of a workload because my annoying co-worker called out.”

Casey laughed. "I hear she is a real bitch. We should both head to sleep.”

“Yeah, come on. Leave the tea. I’ll get it in the morning.”

They walked down the long hall together. Tobias turned to the right to enter his room upon reaching the end, and Casey turned to the left to go to hers. But before he was in his door Casey grabbed his wrist.

“T? Wait," she said.

“Yes?”

She pulled him into a big hug, "I just wanted to say thanks for everything again."

"God, I need to reinstate the no thank you rule."

"No, way, I win!" she said with a smile.

Tobias kissed the top of her head. "Go to sleep Princess, hopefully you can rest a little easier tonight."

"I will." She walked to her door and gave a little wave, "Good night, T."

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