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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years

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Killer Party || Morgan & Erin

Location: Erin’s place

Timing: Current

Parties: @corpse--diem & @mor-beck-more-problems

Summary: A dead girl and a funeral director roll into a backyard with a bounce house. Soft friendship ensues.

Erin surveyed her backyard, and after shuffling around a few potted plants and some outdoor furniture, she wondered for the first time if there actually was enough room for a bouncy castle. What an unlikely predicament she’d found herself in here. Of all the problems she could list, this one was almost refreshing. A freshly thawed bowl of eyes sat waiting for Morgan when she arrived, just as promised. Already off to a good start to a two-month death day anniversary, right? This could be normal. As normal as a 35 year old woman about to trade some magical rocks for a bouncy house a few short weeks after she’d murdered someone could be. Morgan had a way about her that really did lift her spirits and distract her from everything else. And that’s because she wasn’t normal. She was just as weird and confident in that weirdness as Erin was. Until she got here? Erin slipped into one of the patio chairs, sipping on a fresh glass of whiskey. Rustling grass broke her thoughts and in an instant she was on her feet, hand moving to the knife she now permanently kept at her side. “Oh fuck, Morgan,” she breathed out some of between a sigh and a nervous laugh. “Sorry, you scared the shit out of me.” Seemed to be a trend with their meetings. She moved her hand from the hilt of the knife, smoothly and slowly, giving a wave. “Is being ridiculously stealthy just a zombie thing or a Morgan thing?”

Since it was broad daylight, Morgan figured she didn’t need to make more of a fuss than showing up when she said she would with the now deflated bounce house folded under her arm. She came around the back of the house and into the yard, beaming when she saw her friend. “Hey!” She cried brightly. When Erin whirled, a hand on a knife at her hip. Morgan jumped back, brow furrowed with as much confusion as concern. She hadn’t taken Erin for the kind of person who was capable of the ‘stab first, ask questions later’ mentality. That was hunter bullshit. Fear-based, ignorant, impulsive in the worst way. “Y-yeah…” she said slowly. “I uh, I can see that.” She nodded at Erin’s hip, indicating that she’d seen exactly what Erin had been about to do. She had practiced too much with Mina and seen Deirdre arm herself for the day too often not to notice the bulge of the sheath. What had happened to Erin between a radio party in the embalming room and now? She looked like she’d been wrung through one of those old industrial machines too many times, flattened and drained. “I’ve always been really quiet when I walk,” she said. “I brought this for you.” She took the folded up plastic and laid it on one of the patio chairs slowly. “You uh...maybe wanna play some catch up on what’s been going on with you first?”

The alarm in Morgan’s reaction was enough to send a guilt-ridden warmth up Erin’s cheeks. “Sorry,” she said again, quieter, more sincere, watching her set the bouncy castle down. “Can never be too careful in my line of work, you know?” She almost physically cringed at her own hurried, cliche of an excuse. Took a breath, let it settle, and finally offered her friend a more sincere smile. “It’s been… a time, yeah.” To say the least. Diving right in with murder plots didn’t seem like the right move here, though. She held up a finger, her smile purposefully widening. “But first thing’s first!” she moved to the bowl on the table beside her, holding it out in front of her and made a show of lifting the lid off of it with another one. “Happy Two Month Deathiversary!” she bellowed dramatically, brimming with enthusiasm. She set the lid down, digging into her pocket for the bag of stones that almost made a home in her garden. “Ta-da! Your adder rocks, as promised, my fine zombie friend.”

Somehow, Erin’s underground organ trade hadn’t read as ‘violently dangerous’ to Morgan until now. She had pictured people like herself lining up discreetly or pulling up in their Hondas in the dead of night, sheepishly collecting a meal of brains or blood or whatever else discreetly and driving away. Maybe a few underground transplants or some mad science supply gathering, but nothing that warranted reaching for a knife. But there was something too real in the way Erin’s face clouded with shame. It hadn’t been a vague nightmare, but something her muscles were remembering an occasion for. Morgan’s frown softened. “It’s okay,” she said, hoping they weighed enough to cover whatever Erin had gone through recently.

She couldn’t help but beam at the bowl of eyes and the bag of adder stones. “Thanks, Erin, my fine funeral organ dealing friend.” she said and came over to give the woman a hug. “Ooh, and look at all the colors!” She picked up a blue eye, then a brown one, popping them in her mouth. “If I told you they had different flavors, would you believe me?” She asked, mouth half full. She swallowed, continuing, “This really is great of you. And as promised, I have normal, human nacho fixings in my bad, but I wanted them to be nice and fresh for you. And while I work, maybe you can tell me what’s got you looking for knife fights around every corner? Or is that more of an after testing the bounce house? As you know, I am a very flexible gal, but I would like an explanation.”

Normal. Erin had to laugh quietly at herself as Morgan’s arms wrapped around her, hands full with eyeballs and stones. As she watched Morgan chow down on her celebratory snacks, she wasn’t sure why she was still trying to integrate that word into her life anymore. Didn’t mean much to begin with, really. This was her normal and if this was the kind of thing that made her friends happy on the reminder of what she could only assume was a horrible fucking day? She’d take it. “Really?” she raised a brow, glancing down at the kaleidoscope of irises between them. “I mean, you’re the one eating them, so,” she shrugged. “What color tastes like what? Anything comparable to human food?” Of course she had to ask. How could she not?

Morgan’s insistence left her as annoyed as she was grateful, but it wasn’t an unfair demand. Erin had almost pulled a knife on her. Talking about this still felt weird despite having these new safe spaces to do just that. Nodding, she poked around the bag, the warm, cheesy goodness promising nothing but good things. “I feel like I probably shouldn’t jump around with a stomach full of nachos,” she glanced over, the quick anger that flared up simmering. “After?” She asked hopefully, giving her a gentle nudge. “It’s your day after all.” Felt odd to word it like that but she couldn’t think of a better explanation. Paused for a moment in between reaching for the bouncy castle and trying to figure out how to execute this layout to catch Morgan’s gaze. “How are you feeling? Really?”

Morgan reached for another eyeball and grinned. “Well, you know how skittles are mostly the same but they got that hint of artificial flavor between all the different colors? Well these—” She swallowed and reached for another one and made it look at Erin. “Aren’t anything like that. If there’s a difference, it’s more like the blue m&ms versus the green ones.” She smirked, her expression wide and mischievous.

She went to the bounce house and started the air pump that came with it. It was almost a relief, delaying the nachos and the heavy talk. She was doing so much talk lately; everyone she knew was suffering and she had nothing to offer them for it in return, sometimes not even words. And now Erin too? Morgan wanted to swallow her own angst down and put it away. She had just started to fix the balance of her good days and bad days. She had it easier than most. She was loved. She was as medically stable as a zombie could be. And yet when Erin asked her question she sighed, wrestling with the urge to vomit everything up. “Trying not to think about how I still don’t have my shit together,” she said with a sad smirk. “I’m not even cursed anymore, you know? And two months in the—not the ground, but, doing the dead girl disco.” She unfolded everything and pushed the button, let the pump do its work. “Are you where my antidepressant dealer gets the cerebrospinal fluid for my meds?” She asked. “Because that’s a thing. I think it has to be fresh though, so, maybe not? But—everything is mostly fine. Just need to figure out what comes next. Easy-peasy, right?”

Erin raised her eyebrows at the eyeball staring back at her, taking in Morgan’s explanation with a confused but genuine laugh. “They all taste exactly the same, though?” She countered, tone lilting into a question as she suddenly doubted every handful of M&M’s she’d ever popped into her mouth. “But--sure, fine. You’re the eyeball aficionado here.”

With the pump doing all the work for them, there wasn’t much to do but watch as it started to slowly, very slowly, come to life. She sat back onto the grass, hoping that the weird shape and color of this thing would make more sense once it wasn’t a deflated clump. Her eyes turned up to Morgan as she spoke and felt her heart pull a little for her friend. “If it helps, I think most people don’t have their shit together. They’re just really good at faking. Present company included,” she smiled softly back at her. “Oh, yeah. Just buy a day planner and you’re all set.” She teased, giving a curt nod. Antidepressant dealer? Shit. For a moment, Erin thought this was leading to a joke. Punchline never came, though, and she sat up a little straighter, shoulders tensing. Guess she was a connection to that world, even if all she dealt in was body parts. Her mind immediately jumped to Felix again. “I don’t know anything about that, but I probably know someone who does,” she shrugged. “If you’re serious about that.”

“That was the joke, Erin,” Morgan said with a wink. “Cute colors on the outside, same old goodness on the inside. Although, I will swear that there’s a hint of a superior difference with the brown ones. On both accounts. Call it my aficionado taste.”

Erin at least wasn’t suffering so much that she couldn’t join in with Morgan on her wry humor, and this gave Morgan a few crumbs of comfort. She had powered through enough talks while cursed and suffering to know that it didn’t mean whatever she carried was light. She had pulled a knife on her of all things. “Oh, I got the hookup from this guy, Felix? I just know he’s got to get the raw goods from somewhere. I can’t let it bug me too much, though. A gal’s gotta stay off the floor and keep trucking somehow. And I already want another human brain, so there’s no point in being cute about some spinal fluid. I’m an eater of flesh, consumer of viscera and weird creepy bits of the dead.” She shrugged, trying to smooth out the edge in her that had sharpened her voice. “And a person,” she forced herself to add. “A still very cute person, I might add. And, hey, I’ve always heard that bullet journaling would totally be my thing. Maybe I can sticker and doodle my way into a sense of purpose.”

Erin couldn’t stop the massive eye roll that came over her. “Smartass,” she chuckled, feeling a little bit of the tightness in her chest loosen. For a moment, anyway. “Looks like we’ve got the same hookup then.” Sometimes she forgot just how small this damn town was. It wasn’t hard to miss the tension in the very pointed way she was describing herself. Like she had to vocalize it, in tangent with being a ‘person’, to remind even herself it was true. “You are a person,” Erin insisted, smiling softly. “Very cute and very much a person. One of my favorite people, at that. And a good friend,” she added. It was hard to forget not everyone would agree. Alain came to mind, and maybe a few months ago she would have agreed with his stance on all things undead. A guilty warmth at just the thought briefly reddened her skin and she looked away to watch the inflatable again. “Sure, you eat weird stuff now. So do a lot of people. Have you ever met a vegan?” she teased gently, glancing back up at her. “And if you ever forget, or need a reminder about that person thing, you know you can call me, right?”

Morgan watched the squid unfold and lift itself up into shape as Erin spoke. Her smile turned watery. She’d known, somehow, that Morgan was teetering over the edge and pulled her back just in time. She smirked at the vegan comment. “You know, we don’t get that many in Texas, but they sure are weird.” She finally turned to Erin, looking up at her with watery eyes. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “That really, um, means a lot from you. I don’t have many friends who are human, who see things like you do. So…” Morgan pulled Erin into a hug, arms wrapped around her middle, head pressing into her shoulder as she forced back her tears. “Thank you. And I will.” She turned back to the bounce house, now towering over them like the friendliest of giants. “Come on, we gotta make sure this baby’s still got all its bounce, right?” She started slipping off her shoes and tugging Erin towards the entrance.

Morgan’s misty eyes tugged at Erin’s heartstrings in a way she didn’t expect. Morgan’s strong but sturdy presence had been equally as unexpected though, hadn’t it? Didn’t even need a beating heart for Erin to recognize how big and accepting it could be. The other woman barely batted an eye at her own darkness, accepting her in full, no questions asked. There’d been a darkness in her too that felt all too familiar and welcoming. “Your other friends are idiots then,” Erin mumbled, wrapping her arms around her tightly. Sometimes you just needed someone you could sit in those shadows with. And sometimes that looked like this--sharing eyeball appetizers and bouncing in a bounce house shaped like a giant squid. Wait. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Erin hesitated at the entrance of the bounce castle as she finally took in the full view of what the bounce castle had grown into.

A motherfucking squid.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” She had to laugh or she’d probably break right then and there. “Nic is going to lose it if he sees this thing,” she groaned, eyes wide and staring at the monstrosity, even as Morgan tugged her along. She slipped off her shoes and followed her anyway. It had to have been at least solid decades since she’d found herself in anything even resembling a bouncy castle and not even the ghost of their squid’s past could stop her from enjoying this. It only took a few modest test jumps to remind her of that and before she knew it, long, overdue laughter spilled from her as she really took flight. “I’m pretty sure this is--” she squealed, grabbing onto Morgan’s shoulder when she lost her footing for a second, laughing even harder. “--the best trade I’ve ever made in my life,” she finished with a grin.

Morgan did a double take at the mention of Nic. “As in Nicodemus?” She quirked a brow, searching Erin’s expression for more context. “Is he--? Are you two--? Oh, stars, you are, aren’t you? Erin! You and--!” She gaped, squealing like a teenger as she stumbled into the bounce house. “I want to know everything. All of it, okay? Oh, and if it’s official, so I know just how much of a hard time to give Nic when I talk to him.” She dove onto her back, letting the inflated floor catch her with a bounce and then scrambled back up to her feet to try a flip, ending in a messy tangle of limbs. “It is--as always--a pleasure doing business with you, Erin.” She giggled and flopped onto her back again, tugging Erin down with her. “But, come on. You gotta tell me something.”

Ah, fuck. Erin cringed and not just at the unexpected high-pitched squeal that erupted from Morgan. She couldn’t believe that for even a moment she’d forgotten Morgan was an active member of the ever-growing Nicodemus Bossier Fan Club. “Everything?” She asked, a twinge of panic straining the laugh that followed. Her bounces slowed as she watched Morgan flail around, until she finally dropped down with her at her urging. The plastic felt cool against her back as they bobbed, the floor settling with their sudden stillness, and she realized right then that she’d never tried to explain out loud what they were to another living (or unliving) soul. “We’re... something?” This would’ve been easier to explain if either of them had been capable or courageous enough to put their thoughts to words. For now, she shrugged and bit down on her bottom lip when a dumb, shy smile started to slip through. “We haven’t actually said that we’re anything. He’s, uh--my best friend, you know? And we care about each other. So it’s definitely something.” A good something, she knew that too. She glanced over to Morgan finally, a wider smile and a hearty laugh loosening her chest. “And I will literally never turn down an opportunity to give him a hard time. Please, do as you must,” she insisted.

Morgan poked her finger into the corner of Erin’s smile, giggling again. “I know how that is. Deirdre and I were ‘something’ for months. When it’s all new and shiny, it’s just like...I mean you want to let whatever it is be its own thing, right? No weird expectations that are gonna break things before they’ve really started. And you don’t want to stop your momentum or anything, you just want to find out where it’s going--or that’s how it is for me, anyway.” She didn’t mention that she hadn’t made it past the ‘something’ stage with a few other women in the past, and the lack of a name, of the legitimacy of language, had made it easier to convince herself that she wasn’t heartbroken by the disappointments. She had a lot more hope for Erin and Nic than she did for her past self. “I’m happy for you guys. And thank you, for the opportunity to give Nic a hard time. Please tell him I’m responsible for the squid bounce house. And I insist on him trying it out. I think it’ll be good for his, uh, stress relief, you know?” She started laughing just imagining the scene. “He’s a pretty cool guy, you know. Did you already tell him about, you know, your whole side hustle thing?”

Erin rolled her eyes, playfully smacking Morgan’s hand away, though she couldn’t disagree with what she was saying. It was delicate, quiet, but it was good. It was relieving to know she didn’t have to explain it more than that. Benefits of befriending women her own age, finally, she supposed. It was nice. “You’ve been reading my diary, haven’t you?” She teased, the floor swaying with her when she turned to face Morgan better, resting her head against her palm. “I’m… not sure this is his kind of stress reliever, honestly. He’s not a big fan of squids,” she laughed, already picturing him sending this thing to a watery grave with one or two well placed stabs. “Very cool. The guy knows all about my shady side and likes me anyway. I think that means he’s a keeper,” she smirked, picking at a piece of dirt on the floor. Her brows suddenly narrowed and lifted to Morgan’s. “Wait, so… Deirdre, huh?” She tilted her head slightly, settling in. “You’ve gotta tell me how that one works.”

“Yes, Erin, you should know better than to leave your diary lying around where I can see your E heart’s N doodles from the margins. I’m holding it hostage until you let me make you nachos.” Morgan teased, cackling at the end of her words, unable to keep up the act for very long. “You don’t think Squidward looks different enough for Nic to give him a chance? Maybe you can just march him in blindfolded. Don’t tell him he’s in the belly of a plastic bouncy squid, yaknow?” She sniggered and pressed her arms down into the bouncy floor to get some movement going again. “Mmhm,” she said, her voice rising and falling along with her bounce. “The ones who accept your shady side, or even like you for your shady side, are the ones you know are definitely keepers. I can attest to that personally too. It’s not worth it if you have to hide yourself or your life from someone. Things are hard and complicated enough on their own.” She turned her head sideways to look at Erin properly, a sly grin warming up her face. “Yeah, Deirdre. She has...a lot more to her than most people realize, for one. But I mean...in some ways it’s really simple. She is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. And she’s also the most interesting, surprising, thoughtful--kind-hearted person I’ve met too. The only one I’ve been able to talk to, practically non stop, for six months and still have things to say. We love each other a lot. We help each other. And we don’t keep secrets. I moved in a couple months ago, before we were even officially dating, and...I don’t know. For two different people who haven’t been happy a lot before, the space we make when we’re together is the most comforting one I’ve ever had.” She shrugged, her smile soft now. “You can ask more, but I’m gonna need something on why you’re suddenly Miss Violence eventually.”

Erin pushed herself up to sit, her body shaking with laughter covering her face with her hand. Oh God, she was downright giggling. “No, absolutely not. You’ve gotta show me how to take this down before you leave.” She watched her, adding to the bounce wave. It was hard not to smile as Morgan gushed. The only true experience she’d ever had with Dierdre involved a story about pulling a knife on Regan and endless pursuits to purchase her hearse. The original alarm that had come with both of those things had dwindled over the months. Guess there was some sort of quiet understanding that came with the shady life that Morgan had touched on. “As long as you’re happy, seriously, that’s all that matters,” Erin shook her head, reaching over to squeeze her friend’s arm. “Even if your girlfriend lightly stalked me for my hearse once upon a time.” Ah. Seemed like they weren’t going to be able to skate right past that topic with super normal girl talk and bounce castle fun times, huh? Erin’s smile faded and she wrapped her arms around her knees. “I, uh--” The words kept getting stuck in her chest. Guilt kept it firmly in place, even with the agreeable ‘shady’ company she’d found herself in. Might as well just fucking say it, right? “Things got bad with my side hustle. Like, bad-bad. I had to…” she narrowed her eyes, cleared her throat. “I had to go all Godfather and take care of a problem. If you know what I mean.”

Morgan propped herself up on her arms as Erin agonized over the question. She couldn’t figure what would be enough to get under Erin’s skin, but the confession of a murder hadn’t been on her shortlist. It was only watching her friend try to swallow the lump in her throat that she remembered how new this world still was to her. She hadn’t even been handling organs for very long either. The moose sacrifice had almost been too much for her. And now… “I’m sorry, that you had to kill someone, Erin,” she said quietly. “It makes you feel different after. It weighs on you. But that doesn’t mean you were wrong to do it. It doesn’t mean that they didn’t deserve what happened to them.” She held Erin’s eyes, clear and sober and solemn with the weight of what she’d done in the ring. “And I know that because I’ve killed someone too. And I feel...a lot of things about it. But she was helping keep one of my friends hostage along with who knows how many supernaturals. And I think I would do it again. But I also know that handling death like that is...it’s different from how we are normally. You should feel however about it.” She reached out for Erin’s arm and squeezed gently. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

Morgan took Erin’s confession with more grace than she would have expected. Laying murder onto someone wasn’t something most people took likely. But Morgan wasn’t most people, though. It was the only reason she felt comfortable enough to ever utter something like this to someone. Apparently, with Morgan’s own confession, she realized she couldn’t have picked a better ear. “I think I feel more guilty about the fact that I don’t feel guilty. The guy was an absolute scumbag who made my life hell,” she answered honestly. She was right though. Erin did feel different. She wasn’t sure which end of the spectrum that left her on but different was a good way to describe it. “Without sounding too cliche, the guy I had killed was skimming off the top, tried to blame it on me. And my boss decided to… test my loyalty, I guess, when I explained to him what had actually happened. So he made me take care of it. Him.” She cleared her throat, scratching the back of her neck. Found it surprisingly easy to still meet Morgan’s bright blue eyes. “You’ve… killed someone? You?” She felt bad but she had to ask. As aware of Morgan’s dark side she was, it felt wrong to add ‘murderer’ to that shadowy list.

“There’s this principle in alchemy called equivalent exchange, where you have to offer material of equal value to what you’re making or requesting from the energy of the universe. It’s all part of this pagan idea of universal balance,” Morgan said quietly. “The turn of the seasons, the planets and the stars, even life and death. It’s all supposed to come out even in the grand scheme of things. And maybe if humans and sometimes other people, I guess, didn’t give each other reasons to be awful it would be all the time. But that’s not how it is.” She lifted her eyes to meet Erin’s eyes. “I don’t know how much I believe that anymore, but I am pretty damn sure that if there is going to be anything close to ‘balance,’ it’s something we have to help make for ourselves. Someone takes it upon themselves to wreck your balance, tries to get you killed for something they did, or throws supernaturals in cages like they’re animals, they deserve to have that harm shifted back at them. If you don’t feel guilty, Erin, don’t.” She quirked the corner of her mouth sadly. “Maybe I would’ve gone about it different if I hadn’t just been so...angry. This guy made us see our friends’ dead bodies with his illusion magic, to fuck with us, because he could, and I just kind of...lost my shit. I didn’t get him, but I got one of his friends. I pummeled her into the ground until I couldn’t.” She swallowed thickly. “She was one of the guards. She saw them. My friends, all of them. She helped keep at that awful place, The Ring? And I’m not sorry she or any of the other ones are gone. But I do...I don’t know. It’s like she’s pressing on my back. I feel a piece of her. And that doesn’t feel fair, but...maybe that’s just how it is.”

Erin remained quiet as Morgan explained the premise of equivalent exchange. Frankly, it made more sense than anything magical related she’d heard so far. Balance. It was always about balance. “I kinda like that,” she smiled softly. She knew that she had no real reason to be guilty outside of what a ‘normal’ human reaction to this would be. But she didn’t. And it wouldn’t come. Her eyes fell on Morgan for a long time, trying to picture the horrible scene she’d just described. It was so hard to imagine those big blue eyes filled with enough rage to beat a woman to death but if she’d learned anything, nobody was what they seemed around here. “The Ring?” Erin asked, but she could only presume it was the awful place Morgan had mentioned with the cages. She leaned over, running a hand down her shoulder. “Sounds like they deserved it just as much as my guy. I know it’s not as eloquent as equivalent exchange but--sometimes you’ve got to do what you’ve gotta do to because it’s right. Because you have to survive.”

Morgan put her hand over Erin’s and threaded their fingers together. She still felt some kind awful inside. She hadn’t wept for the nameless woman once. For herself, for Remmy and Nell and everyone who had been held there, sure, but not for what she’d taken. It worried her in a quiet way, how much of her had been warped by death? What else had she lost that she hadn’t accounted for. But looking at Erin, who by her reckoning was no more monstrous than herself or Deirdre or Remmy or Nell, she decided to lay the question aside. Sometimes balance wasn’t pretty. “Guess witches know a thing or two about a thing or two,” she said. Then, laughing feebly. “Didn’t mean to bring down the mood comparing body counts. If you’ve still got an appetite, though, I could make some really great distraction nachos. We could even bring it back out here. I’d love to see how long you last.”

Erin returned Morgan’s small smile, giving her hand a squeeze. It felt like there was plenty still left unsaid, settled between them, shrouded in this damn squid bounce castle. Definitely not the place she’d ever pictured herself bonding over murder with someone, especially not the murder part. “Distraction nachos sound amazing right now,” she shrugged. “Fun fact about me: I’m never not hungry,” she smirked, trying to ease some lightness back into the air again. Hard sell after what they were just discussing but that was the beauty of this friendship, wasn’t it? She hopped to her feet, wobbling just a little when the floor moved beneath them. Giving one last bounce when Morgan tried to stand, she laughed again, holding her hand out to help her up “And if that’s a challenge, you’re so on, lady!”

#killer party #wr erin #wr chatzy #wr erin chatzy #wr #wickedswriting

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 5 years

Text

Without You

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word count: 8569

Summary: Simon is severely injured and out of commission. Baz has trouble coping. Based on "you’re in a coma and I confess all my feelings only for you to wake up" request.

Read on AO3

AN: Heyyyyy, my peeps. Long time no fic. Long story short: I started antidepressants and they fucked with me hard. They wiped out of my energy for weeks, I could barely get out of bed. But now I've adjusted and I'm mostly back to myself, and I plan to get through the requests :D There's actually one request before this but that one was gonna take awhile so I thought I'd post this one first. I'm still iffy on some parts of this fic, but hey it's done. That's more than I can say for most of my writing recently lol. Hope you guys enjoy it :D. Disclaimer: Idk exactly how a coma of this length affects someone. Don't take what happens here as fact please.

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Baz

It starts as a normal day. (Well, as normal as mine can get.) Snow wakes me up at an ungodly hour, banging around like a frenetic ping pong ball. I growl and burrow deeper into my blanket pile. Why does he always insist on doing this? I swear, Snow forgets that other people exist in his little world.

He makes a particularly loud bang, equivalent to gun shot to my sensitive ears, and my patience snaps. I bolt upright and glare at his back.

“Would you keep it down?” I hiss. “Some of us actually want to sleep.”

Snow whips around so fast he nearly trips. I’m taken slightly aback. He looks like a frightened rabbit caught in the headlights. I’ve never seen him so frantic and afraid. Even his breathing is strange, rapid and shallow. What could scare the Chosen One so badly?

“I gotta- I-I can’t,” he stutters, like the adorable numpty he is. Snow is bleeding magic, making the air feel thick and smokey. We stare at each other for a long drawn out moment. Then he just leaves, dashing away in a flurry of bronze hair and untucked clothing. I’m left in the rising dawn light, feeling thoroughly perplexed.

Is Snow okay? He looked so helplessly terrified. Part of me wants to run after him, ask him what’s wrong, maybe try to help. But I know he wouldn’t tell me anything. Actually, he’d probably yell his bloody head off at me.

“Whatever,” I groan, flopping back down. And I let myself drift back off to sleep.

———————————————

Boom!

BOOM!

The entire room shakes, flinging me back into consciousness. My eyes fly open and I bolt upright. Flecks of plaster rain down from the sky like a light dusting of snow. The stones are still vibrating slightly. Crowley and Merlin and Methuselah, what the ever loving fuck was that?! Has the Mage completely lost his mind and decided to test nuclear bombs on the Watford grounds? As if he needs another bomb with Snow-

Wait. What if... No, he’s the Chosen One, he’s fine. I don’t need to worry. He was probably just panicking like a moron earlier. That explosion was...fine. He’ll be okay...

Fucking hell.

I dash out from bed, throwing on my jumper and shoes terrifyingly fast. I grab my wand just in case. As I’m running down the steps, I wonder how I’m going to explain this, dashing towards Simon bloody Snow with a racing heart and fear in my eyes. But I don’t fucking care. He might be in danger. I can’t leave him alone, I can’t, I just can’t.

The second I’m outside, I see the towering smoke coming from the Great Lawn. It’s a massive plume blacking out the sky. My undead heart is roaring in my ears as I run towards the smoke, not caring about any fire within. When I reach the edge of the spot, all the breath leaves my lungs. Flames cover the grass, burning so bright my eyes hurt. In the middle of the inferno are two silhouettes. One is kneeling, and the other is laying limp on the ground. Maybe I’m imagining, maybe I’m terrified, maybe I’m just projecting, but I swear the person on the ground has a mass of dirty bronze curls.

I raise my wand up and yell, “make a wish!” The fire goes out with a rushing pop. Grey smoke still trails off the blackened ground. I wave through the thick cloud, focusing on the two silhouettes. And when I step through, my heart sinks right to the ground.

Simon Snow is on the ground, eyes closed, laying limp with his head on Bunce’s lap.

“What happened?” I ask, voice shakier than I want it to be.

Penelope Bunce’s head whips around. Her face is streaked in ash and tears, hair a tangled mess of fading purple. Unsurprisingly, she looks utterly shocked.

“Baz?” she says. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard the explosion, what else?” I snap. “What happened? Why was the Lawn on fire?”

Bunce glares at me, but I see the way her lip trembles. She rubs her forehead, streaking ash across her skin. “It was a group of ogres. Simon spotted them from his window then sent a messenger bird to me for help. Then we came here. They were under the Humdrum’s control, completely vicious. Simon and I couldn’t hold them off. He was getting tired and scared, so...”

A few tears fall down her cheeks. She places her hand over her mouth, trying to control her rapidly increasing breath, trying to say what I already know. There’s only one thing in the World of Mages that could’ve made such a concussive sound. And this time, I heard two.

I step forward, getting a clearer view. Snow is spread out across the ground like an exhausted starfish. Eyes closed, head lolling to the side, covered head to toe in dirt, blood, and ash. His sword is still laying on his open palm. I can hear his breathing and pulse with my vampire ears. Thank fucking Crowley, he’s still alive. But from the weak sound of both, I’m not sure how long that’s going to last.

“Fucking hell,” I whisper.

Bunce nods solemnly. “I tried to wake him up, but he’s out cold.” She sniffles, and I can’t help but feel bad for her. “Is this good enough for you, Basilton? Finally getting rid of the Chosen One like you want.”

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm in my mind and heart. I can’t lose control right now. I can’t react to her fiery but justified words. Not when Snow needs me.

Quick as lightning, I kneel down and scoop Simon up. I don’t go for a full on bridal carry, that’s a little too obvious. Instead, I sling him over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes, his sword falling to the ground, arms hanging down my back. He’s incredibly light with my strength. I have to force myself to not think about how close he is right now. This is absolutely not the time and the place for that, dammit.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Bunce shouts, shooting to her feet.

“What does it look like?” I hiss. “I’m getting him to the nurse’s office.”

“Why would you do that?! You’re on opposite sides of a bloody war!”

Because I love him far more than my own reputation, I think. But I can’t say that out loud of course. I never can. “Because I don’t want the Mage to find a way to blame this on me and my family.”

I start speed walking across the grass before Bunce can respond. I don’t need more questions right now, I need to get Snow to help. His torso bumps against my back with every step. A stupid part of me hopes the simple vibrations and movement will wake him up. But he stays completely limp.

Crowley, Snow, if you die, I will kill you.

———————————————

“He went off twice?” Nurse Keswick asks Bunce. She nods, gripping Snow’s hand tight. He’s laying on the bed, wrapped tight in a blanket, hooked up to a heart monitor and breathing tubes in his nose. It beeps steadily, every blip reminding me he’s still alive. But his closed eyes and frozen body say he’s not going anywhere anytime soon. Bunce is by his bedside while I lurk in a dark corner, though I desperately wish I could sit there too.

“Yeah,” Baz replies.”One right after another. I’ve never seen it before. The first time was like pulsing waves, but then the second was like...like a bloody nuclear bomb.” She squeezes his hand tighter. “His magic exploded out into a big dome with a mushroom cloud after. All the ogres were incinerated on the spot, along with a lot of the grass.”

Ms. Keswick nods along thoughtfully, making notes on her clipboard. “And he fell unconscious after the second one?”

Bunce’s face crumples in distress. “Yeah. I cleared most of the fire around us, then tried to wake him up with magic and just, y’know, shaking. Nothing worked.”

“I see. Any dizziness prior to today?”

“No.”

“Did any of the ogres hit him particularly hard?”

“Not that I saw.”

“Didn’t hit his head after going off again?”

“He was already unconscious before he hit the bloody ground,” Bunce snaps. Her brows pull together, matching her scowl. If I were Ms. Keswick, I would back away very slowly. Other than the Humdrum, the scariest thing in the Magical World is Penelope Bunce’s wrath. I know. I’ve been on the receiving end of it for years.

Ms. Keswick clears her throat and jots something down on her sheet. “Alright. Well, there isn’t anything physically or magically causing Mr. Snow’s unconsciousness. At least not normal magic. From what you said, it seems to be caused by an overexertion of power.”

“That’s not a thing,” I say coldly. Bunce glares at me over her shoulder, rightly assuming I’m just being my usual snarky arsehole self. But really I’m concerned Ms. Keswick is just making up a diagnosis because she doesn’t know what else to say. I don’t want Snow to suffer because of a wild guess.

“Not usually,” Ms. Keswick says slowly. “But Mr. Snow’s magic does tend to be unusual. He’s not like other mages. It’s very possible he used too much magic and...burnt himself out in a way. I just can’t tell you for sure.”

I scowl deeply. Bunce scoffs at me. I know what she thinks, that I’m upset he’s not fully dead. If only she knew how my entire world is shattering.

“Will he wake up?” Bunce asks.

Ms. Keswick’s eyes soften with sadness. She holds the clipboard to her chest. “I have to be honest, I don’t know. No spell is working. I think we just have to wait and see.”

Bunce’s face falls. It’s only because of my years of practice schooling my expression that I don’t look the same. My heart is beating so loud in my ears. I want to rush over and shake Snow awake. But that won’t do any good. Snow will stay asleep, possibly forever. I don’t even want to consider that.

The door bursts open with a bang so loud I jolt. The Mage stomps in, hand on his sword and fire in his eyes. He’s so enraged he walks right past me.

“What happened?!” he barks at Ms. Keswick and Bunce. Fucking prick.

“It was ogres,” Bunce says, sounding more than a little annoyed. “Sent by the Humdrum. Simon went off twice and passed out. I tried to wake him up but nothing worked. Ms. Keswick says we just have to wait and see.”

The Mage looks even more furious. Bastard probably doesn’t like his favourite weapon being out of commission. “Have you tried every spell, Ms. Keswick?”

“Yes, I have,” she replies. I commend her for staying calm in the face of his anger.

“I doubt that. I will try myself. Everyone leave.” He looks right at me, eyes thin blue slits. “That includes you, Mr. Pitch. I don’t even want to know why you’re here.”

I scoff, crossing my arms. “Neither I nor the Families had anything to do with this.”

“I never said that.”

“You never had to.” I push off the wall, hands linked behind my back. “I’ll be taking my leave.”

The Mage nods stiffly. He turns back to Bunce and Ms. Keswick. “As should everyone else, like I requested.”

Ms. Keswick nods and walks towards her office. Bunce frowns as she goes out the exit. I follow behind her. Before we leave, I glance over my shoulder, looking at Snow’s face one last time. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to see him again.

Bunce and I walk down the hall together, me a few steps behind her. She’s stomping so hard it rattles the floorboards. If she weren’t here, I would be doing the same. I’m so damn frustrated. None of us have any idea what is going on, none of us can seem to help, and Snow is just stuck there, unable to wake up. I’m quite used to feeling helpless when it comes to Snow, but this is far worse.

“Hey.” Bunce stops and turns around. Her mouth is thin line and her voice has an edge. I cross my arms, awaiting a verbal lashing. “It feels weird to say this, but...thanks, for getting him here.”

Well, didn’t expect that. I hope Bunce can’t see the small smile on my lips. I do have a reputation. “You’re welcome. I must say, I’m surprised to hear that from you.”

“Yeah, so am I,” she chuckles in morose sort of way, rubbing up and down her arm. “I know you didn’t do it for any altruistic reasons, but still, it’s good you did it anyway. Though this doesn’t change anything.”

“I know.” She nods, then turns around and walks away. I stand still for a long moment, trying to recollect myself. I know exactly what you still think of me, Bunce. What Snow will still think of me when he wakes up. If he wakes up...

I press the heels of my hands hard into my eyes. Pitches don’t cry, dammit. I take a deep breath and recollect myself. It will be okay. It has to be. Otherwise, well, I don’t know what I’ll do.

———————————————

It’s been fourteen whole days, and Snow still hasn’t woken up. I’ve tried to ignore the anxiety that fears to it’s way through my stomach, but it gets worse with every passing second. During the day I hide it well, going about my business as usual. But at night, I spend hours laying awake, just staring at his empty bed. Having Snow there was torture, but him not being there is absolute fucking hell.

“Do you think the Chosen One is really out of commission for good?” Niall asks through his sandwich.

“Who knows,” Dev replies. “Either way, the Mage’s side is shitting their pants in fear now that their favourite weapon is gone. The Families are elated.”

Crack. Niall and Dev both jolt. Fuck. My knife nearly made it through the plate and onto the table. I could’ve goen further. Damn vampire strength. I put my utensils down calmly and pick up my teacup. “Yes,” I say evenly, “they definitely are. My father and aunt sent word that they are quite pleased.”

Luckily, both of them act like nothing happened. Good men. Niall nods as he eats his salad. “They’re finally off our backs, and we didn’t even have to do anything.”

“Very true.” I push at a piece of chicken a bit too hard, nearly sending it off my slightly cracked plate. But I quickly regain my control. “So who do you think is going to win the FA cup this year, gentlemen? My money is on Manchester.”

Dev scoffs and rolls his eyes. “You always say that. I’m betting on Liverpool.”

“And you always say that!” Niall points at him like it’s a devastating accusation, though we all know Dev’s incessant loyalty to Liverpool. My personal theory is that it’s just because he loves the Beatles.

He and Niall start arguing about the ability of football clubs, and I just sit back. I don’t have the energy for a rousing football debate. Or anything else really. It feels like every ounce of myself is going into worrying about Snow. There’s nothing left for the rest of my life.

We finish lunch, and I pretend I’m going to the library. But the second Dev and Niall are out of sight, I walk towards to the infirmary. I’ve been trying to get there since that first day, but Bunce is by his side almost every bloody hour. She would yell my ear off if I showed up. One thank you does not a friendship make. But I want to see Snow, dammit. And I know for a fact Bunce has a major test this period, while mine is totally free.

Just as I’m turning the corner, I run head on into someone. We both yell as we fall on the floor. Once my vision comes back into focus, I look up, and meet a pair of wide brown eyes.

“Oh, hello Baz,” Agatha says nervously. “What...what are you doing here?”

I gulp down the small lump in my throat and recollect myself. “I could ask the same of you, Wellbelove.”

She starts collecting her books, staring intently at the ground. “It’s my free period, and I’m going to see Simon.”

“I thought you two broke up.” Agatha freezes up. I wince slightly at my own sharp words. I didn’t mean to be that harsh. But part of me is still angry at her for hurting him. They’re disgustingly cute relationship was agony for me, but Snow was happy. That’s what matters.

Wellbelove sighs, standing with her back straight. I do the same, clutching my bookbag strap tight. “Yes, we did break up a few weeks ago. But I still care for him.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I’m not sure Snow believes that.”

She nods in a strange, solemn way. “No, I don’t think he does. But I do. I just couldn’t be what he wanted. Simon wants me to be his happy ending, the person waiting for him when all this insanity is over. I want to be someone’s right now.”

My annoyance dissipates, and I feel like a right prick. I clear my throat and look down at the floor. “I see. That’s...understandable.”

“I’m glad you get it. Simon didn’t.” I raise my eyes slightly. Agatha is gazing at the door in a forlorn sort of way. Like a gothic heroine gazing out from her balcony. “I know I did the right thing, but it was hard.”

“Most right things are.” And so are the wrong things, as I’ve learned from experience. They just tear you apart inside in a whole different way.

“Too true.” She smiles slightly. “But I’m glad I did. It was worth the risk. I’m happier now. I only wish Simon was awake so we could at least try to make up. I don’t want to lose him even more.” Her bottom lip trembles, and even though we aren’t even close to friends, it still breaks my heart. “I just want him to be okay.”

My chest feels tight at her words. Before I can stop myself, I’m nodding, and I can feel my face fall slightly, my sorrow bleeding through. I quickly school my expression and straighten up. But Agatha is looking at me, first with shock, and it slowly fades to pity. It stabs me in the gut so sharply I immediately look away. Yes, I’m pathetic, but no one needs to know.

I clear my throat and look away. “I should go. Studying, and all that.”

“Right.” She smiles softly. I can’t tell if she’s being kind because I’m so pitiful, or just because she’s nice. I don’t want to find out. So I turn my back and walk away. Snow is still stuck in that room. It’s stupidly poetic and over dramatic, but if I have a heart, it’s stuck there along with him.

———————————————

I’ve been frozen for hours. I just keep staring across the room, staring at his bed.

It’s still a complete mess. At first I didn’t want to touch his things because I prefer not getting my ear yelled off when Snow comes back. Now I can’t bear to do it, to erase the most obvious sign of his presence. Looking at the crumpled sheets reminds me he used to be here. He was here, where I could make sure he was alive and okay.

He’s still alive, you dolt, my rational brain reminds me. But not in any way that really counts. I want him to be laughing, snarling, yelling, living his damn life. He should be here. It’s not fair. Simon Snow doesn’t deserve to be in a coma.

What I wouldn’t give for him to wake up.

What I wouldn’t give to have him in my arms.

I didn’t get to see him yesterday. And I feel like if I don’t right now, I’m going to catch fire and burn to a crisp.

I throw my quilt off and swing my legs over the side. I don’t even bother putting on shoes. After slowly descending the stairs of Mummer’s house, I tiptoe through the halls. Luckily, I’m very good at being totally silent while sneaking through Watford. It finally pays off to be like a ghost.

Eventually, I reach the nurse’s office. I press my sensitive ear to the door. There are no footsteps, no muttering, no sound except that incessant beeping I remember. With a shaky hand, I turn the brass knob, and step inside.

The moonlight pours in through the window, a silver stream perfectly illuminating the bed. I cautiously walk forward. Every step feels like I’m walking on knives. Snow is still there, obviously, a perfect sleeping statue. But he looks so different. That’s probably because he’s lost quite a bit of weight. A feeding tube can only do so much, I suppose. His cheekbones are more prominent, pushing through his pretty face. His skin looks paler too. It’s lost a lot of its golden luster, more of a pale yellow now. He looks so...empty. My undead heart shatters.

There’s a chair next to the bed. I suppose that’s where Bunce has been spending every minute she can. I sit down slowly, like it’ll bite me I want to touch him. I want to feel his skin, just in case I may never be able to again. But I hold back.

“Hello, Snow,” I say, unsure if I’m really talking to him or myself. “You’ve been here for quite awhile, huh? The window isn’t open. You’re probably overheating, you human furnace.”

I’m not an idiot, I know he’s going to wake up just because I’m talking. But how I wish his stupid blue eyes would open right now. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. I reach out and lightly brush the back of his hand. Crowley, his skin is colder than his namesake. A choked sound is wrenched from my throat.

“You moron,” I hiss, “how could you go off like that unprepared? Just bring your stupid sword to fight an entire pack of ogres? Bunce was there, I know, but you two were still not enough. You should’ve thought it through more. You should have...” I take a deep breath, holding back tears. “You should have asked for my help. I could have protected you.”

My mind goes back to Wellbelove’s words. How she was scared, yet took the risk anyway to be happier. I wish I could be that brave. And...maybe I could, at least while he sleeps.

I swipe my thumb over the back of his hand, feeling every single bone in it. “You never would’ve asked me though, because you still think I hate you. But the truth is, I don’t, Snow. Not in the way you think.” I hold him tighter, tighter than I ever have before. Wet drops slide down my cheeks. Fuck, I really am pathetic. I’m a stupid blubbering mess, all over this ridiculous, brave boy. “I despise what you do to me, but I can’t despise you, Simon. You’re too strong, too clever, too incredible to hate. You’re the best person I’ve ever met, so much better than my horrible undead arse. You don’t deserve to be stuck here.” I press my fingers harder into his chilly palm. It’s all I can do to keep from falling apart.

“I know you’ve never listened to me once in our years living together, but I hope you make an exception this time. Please, wake up. The World of Mages needs you. I need you. I can’t bear to imagine a world without you in it. I don’t care if you still hate me forever. You should get to live and have your happy ending.” I reach forward and brush away a tangled mess of curls from his forehead. Because I’m a constant disappointment to myself.

“I hope you wake up, because you’re the best thing in existence. And because...” I take a deep, powerful breath, pushing the words out of that deep dark place I’ve hidden them for years. “Because I’m absolutely, hopelessly in love with you, Simon Snow. And losing you would be worse than dying again.” I lightly brush his cheek, barely touching him, but it’s enough. “So wake up, you bloody numpty. You’re not allowed to die. I won’t let you.” My voice cracks. I fall forward, pressing my tear filled eyes on my hand. “You can’t leave me yet.”

My breaths come out shaky, like a rattling old air conditioner. I haven’t let myself cry these entire two weeks, holding in every ounce of horrible, tangled despir. But they fly freely now, streaking down my cheeks. I can’t live without Snow. He’s my hopeless love, my stupid reason to live, my sun. If I’m not crashing into him, what am I doing? I’ve considered dying by his hand, but never him going before me. I can’t lose him. I don’t how to lose him and not lose what little is left of my soul as well.

A weight falls on top of my head. It’s cold, bony, and splays out over my head. A hand. I bolt upright, and I’m immediately met with plain blue eyes and a soft smile, like it takes Atlas level amounts of effort to just to pull his mouth up.

“Hi,” Snow says, voice raspy from disuse, yet somehow still the most beautiful sound.

I stare at him slack jawed for a stupid amount of time. I swear, my brain has turn to thick gruel. Simon Snow is awake, looking at me, smiling. He’s okay. And I’m holding his hand.

Immediately, I shoot back, sitting up ramrod straight, hand very far away from his. I probably look like a panicked deer. “Hello, Snow. You’re up. I’ll...go get Bunce. She’ll be very thrilled.”

I start to stand up, but the slightest brush from chilly fingers, and I freeze. I look over my shoulder. Snow is frowning in this pouty puppy dog way. He looks so unbelievably vulnerable and scared.

“Baz,” he wheezes, “don’t leave me alone, please.”

Crowley, did he really have to say that? It sends a sharp pain directly through my chest. I immediately fall back into the chair. “Okay, I won’t.”

He smiles again, making me almost sigh with relief. “How are you feeling?” I ask. I hope he doesn’t notice I’m shaking like a leaf.

“Like shit,” he chuckles. It brings a laugh out of me too, small and breathy.

“Laying in bed for two weeks will do that, Snow.”

“Yeah, true enough.” He takes a rattling breath. “I thought Penny would be the one here when I woke up. She’s been here a lot.”

My eyes widen slightly. “You know that?”

He nods slowly and winces. It obviously hurts him to move. “Yeah. After a few days, I could hear everything, I just couldn’t, y’know, open my eyes or move.”

Oh fuck. I can feel whatever little blood I have rush to my face. I hope it’s not too noticeable. There’s only so much embarrassment I can take before I explode. “Oh...everything?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Everything?”

“Yeah,” Snow sighs, “everything.”

He turns his head towards me. I see his wince again. I start to reach forward, like I want to what, comfort him. No, I’m not allowed to do that. I’ve never been allowed. Why the fuck do I think I can? Snow looks at my hand strangely, between confused and awestruck I think. I quickly pull my hand back into my lap.

“Sorry,” I whisper, looking very pointedly down.

“Baz, I-I told you, I heard you.” His eyes narrow slightly, as much as he can right now. “But this isn’t some plot, right?”

My blood starts to boil and a scowl nearly split my face in two. Of course in his own mind, it’s reasonable for him to ask. But I just poured out what’s left of my pathetic heart to him, even though I thought he couldn’t hear. It was the most truthful I’ve ever been in my life. And he thought I was lying.

I push my chair away. “Well, I won’t bother you with anymore of my plots. I’ll go get Bunce or Nurse Keswick now.”

“No, Baz, wait!” Snow sits up, and immediately starts coughing. His entire body convulses with the force of them. I’m immediately standing at his side

“Don’t get up, Snow.” I gently hold his upper arms and help lower him back onto the sheets. My thumbs press right into his humerus. Crowley, he really is all skin and bones right now. It hurts me in such a horrific way.

He gestures to the cup of water on the bedside table. I immediately pick it up and bring the straw to his cracked lips. Snow drinks deeply, shoulders relaxing. He ends up drinking the entire thing, then falls back on the bed. I put the cup down and sit, all thoughts of leaving obviously out the window.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I just, I had to ask. I heard it all, but part of me just...can’t believe it.” Our eyes meet, and a shiver runs down my spine. “I never knew you felt like that.”

I stare at my lap, fiddling with my shaky fingers. The world is closing in, shrinking to just me, the lonely lovesick vampire who has never dealt with his feelings. Except Snow is here too. And a part of me wants him here, and another part desperately can’t handle him right now. Snow overwhelms me, always has. He rids my brain of any logical thought. It’s horrible, and I love it. Just like him.

“I made sure you didn’t,” I whisper. “I made sure no one did.”

“Yeah, I kinda guessed that.” He smiles softly again. No matter how weak he is, it’s still such a pretty smile. “For how long?”

I take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut. I hope I don’t look too ridiculous “A long time, Snow. Almost since we met.”

I look up slightly. Snow’s eyes are bigger than saucer plates and his lips are slightly parted. Part of my brain supplies an intense image of my tongue between those lips, tracing the inside of his mouth, feeling every crevice. He just woke up from a coma, Basil, get a hold of yourself.

“That’s...a long time...”

I snort in a very undignified way. “No shit, Sherlock.”

“You don’t need to be an arse,” he mumbles.

“I do when you state the absolutely obvious.”

He pouts in that ridiculously adorable way again. Snow really is a giant, sword wielding, explosive puppy dog. “Why do you always go for the lowest blow? Especially if you...care about me like that.”

I gulp. Did the coma make him more articulate somehow? Maybe it rattled some of his brains loose. “Because I’m not supposed to. You know that, Snow. We’re enemies.”

“But what if I like this better?” He blurts out. His cheeks immediately go rosy pink, body a bit too iron deficient for bright scarlet.

My eyebrows furrow together. “What is this?”

“This. What we’re doing right now. Talking, being nice, not being arseholes. And,” he smiles sheepishly like a cheeky schoolboy, “I liked what you had to say, before I woke up.”

My first reaction is to blush. And my second is to scoff and stare at the wall, which is boring, but at least not his beautiful face. “Like having your ego stroked, Snow?”

The room is completely silent for a few long, drawn out seconds. I keep my eyes on the stone wall, analysing every line of mortar. Anything to not look at him. But then I feel something tepid brush over my hand, making my whole body jolt. Snow’s fingers are laying atop mine. It’s something I’ve wanted for so many years. It’s overwhelming in the best way.

“I thought about you.”

My eyebrows shoot all the way up to my hairline. “What?”

He keeps smiling, like that’s an answer. “While I was stuck here, I thought about what you were doing.

“You mean what I was plotting?”

“Yeah. And I missed you.”

I scoff, leaning back in the uncomfortable chair. “Sure, Snow.”

I keep looking at the wall, though I can’t bear to remove my hand from under his. But suddenly, I feel something slowly curl around my long fingers. I whip my head around. Snow is actually holding my hand, even after I insulted him. And when I look up, he still has that smile, despite how much strain it obviously causes him.

“You called me Simon before,” he says.

Surprisingly, it makes me laugh. Because he’s just so ridiculous, and adorable. “That’s what you care about?”

“Uh-huh. I like when you call me Simon. I like you being here, just the two of us. I like all of this better than us fighting.”

Merlin and Morgana, this is too good to be true. Simon Snow is awake, and he knows how I feel, and he likes this better than fighting. I don’t know what to do. My brain is overloaded with information and emotion, and I don’t deal well with the latter. I need to recollect myself before I do something irreversibly stupid.

Snow yawns loudly, mouth wide like a boa constrictor swallowing its prey. The analogy seems apt, honestly. I feel like Snow has swallowed me whole.

“You should rest, Snow,” I say. “You’re probably loopy from...something. Bunce will want to talk your ear off in the morning. Certainly have to have your strength for that.”

His fingers tighten on my hand. He’s so weak it’s barely a squeeze, but it makes me stay anyway. “You’re running away.”

How Snow says that so pathetically yet resolutely all at once is astounding. And it breaks my heart a bit more. “I just need to rest. And so do you.”

He frowns deeper. “Are you going to pretend that none of this happened? Make me feel crazy?”

Well, I had thought about it. But...I don’t think I can now. Not with the way Snow is looking at me with those big plain blue eyes. He destroys all my walls. He makes me feel so weak. I hate it, but I want to love it.

“How about,” I say slowly, “we talk later, when you’re not just emerging from a coma? Okay?”

Relief obviously washes over Snow. His weak body melts into the mattress. It’s good to see him relax. “Promise?”

I chuckle and shake my head. “What are you, five?”

“Please, Baz?” he asks, already drifting off to proper sleep.

Crowley, I am so weak. But maybe I really could learn to love it. I grip his hand tight, but not tight enough to hurt. His skin is warming up. He’s starting to feel like himself again. “I promise, Snow.”

He smiles as his eyes slide shut. He’s immediately asleep. Snow always looks beautiful, but smiling in his sleep, he looks positively angelic. Usually he’s curled up in a knot, whimpering and crying. But not tonight it seems.

I put his hand over his stomach, and exit the little nurse’s room. I walk back to my room in a daze. My brain is still playing catch up. Simon is awake. He’s coherent. He heard every stupid thing I had to say and he liked it. A grin spreads across my face, dopey in the best, most ridiculous way.

He’s okay. And maybe for the first time ever, so am I.

———————————————

It’s been another week and a half of Snow-less agony for me. He has to recover from quite a bit, I assume. An ogre fight, a massive going off, and a two week long coma is bound to do some damage. That’s all I know though. It’s not like Bunce is giving me daily updates on his condition. I want to go see him, desperately, but I also think he needs time to think. He needs to get his head on straight. I know he was worried I would pretend none of that night happened, but I’m more worried he will. Snow will get all his mental faculties back and pretend I never confessed my stupid undying love. Objectively, that would be best, I suppose. There’s no chance at all for us. Still, it would hurt.

“Baz? Baz? Baz are you listening?”

My head snaps up to see a very confused Dev and Niall. Shit, right, we’re supposed to be studying. There’s a test next week. A world still exists outside of Simon bloody Snow.

“Um, yes,” I say, looking back down at my extremely wordy textbook. “History of the first magical war, right. Who was the instigator?” I raise my head again, trying to look as bored and passive as my father. But both my friends still look monumentally concerned. I frown at them. “What?”

“You okay, mate?” Dev asks. “You’ve been off these past couple weeks.”

Niall nods. “Yeah, totally. Ever since the Chosen One went into a coma...”

Crowley, I hope I don’t have enough blood to blush. It keeps happening, and I hate my thoughts being out in the open. “Coincidence, my dear Niall. Finals stress has been a bastard.”

It’s an easy lie, a believable one, but a lie all the same. And unfortunately these boys have known me since I was in diapers. They look at each other briefly, then back at me, both with an expression of deadpan disbelief.

“Is it cause you actually put him in the coma?” Dev asks.

I immediately snap my pencil in half. Just one hard press of my thumb and the little stick is dismembered. Both Dev and Niall jolt. I can’t blame them, I would be shocked too. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and put the pencil down.

“Where,” I say slowly, carefully, “did you hear that?

“Um...around,” Niall replies. “People heard you were there when he went off. Some people are saying you egged him on until he blew up...”

I press my lips together and take another long, deep breath. I need to calm down before I explode. It makes sense, considering what I’ve let people think about me. But the fact that people think I’m responsible for hurting Snow, when I actually tried to save him, is so much more painful than I thought it would be. I don’t want people to think I hurt Simon. I no longer want to be known as his enemy. Crowley, I’m tired of being his enemy at all.

“Baz? You okay?”

I look up at them again. I’m not sure who said that, but both my friends look incredibly concerned. They’re good men, really, underneath all that sarcasm. I nod once.

“I’m alright,” I say, “and that’s not what happened. Snow went off on his own.”

“Okay,” Dev says. “Are you sure you’re alright though? You seem weird.”

“Yeah. I’ve just got a lot going on.”

Niall leans forward on his forearms, brows all scrunched together. “Y’know you can can tell us shit, right?”

I lightly drum my fingers on the table, creating a low rattling sound. I know he means well, but that’s not true. How could I tell them about Snow? How I’ve been in love with him for years? How I accidentally confessed and now he may want what I want? I can’t. Right?

“I know,” I say. “And I’ll tell you if there’s anything to tell.”

“Okay, good.”

Dev smiles, closed mouth and reserved, but there’s a genuine kindness in his face. “We’re always here for you, mate.”

Niall nods and smiles along with him. My eyes narrow slightly. Who are these people and what happened to Dev and Niall? They’re being too nice. We’re always arseholes to each other. They keep smiling. Maybe they’ve been hexed or something.

Or maybe...they know something.

No. No way. They haven’t possibly have figured it out. If they have, they would be yelling at me, they would hate me. That’s what I’ve always expected. But maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance it’ll be okay. Maybe I don’t need to be so terrified.

“Thanks,” I say slowly, then flip up my book, focusing intently on the little black words. They make my chaotic world melt away for a moment. My panic dips ever so slightly. Simon is awake, he’s okay. And for the first time ever, maybe I will be too.

———————————————

I’m laying on my bed, having my fifteenth existential crisis of the past three and a half weeks, when the door starts to open. I immediately bolt up like I’ve been electrocuted. It opens further, and every creak of old hinges sound like a thousand decibels to my ears. Soon, a tawny face peeks through, which makes my slow heartbeat skip. And when he smiles, it stops completely.

“Hey,” Snow says.

“Uh, hi. You’re back,” I say, like a useless idiot. Way to go, Basil.

“Yeah. They finally freed me.” He steps in, and I see the cane in his left hand. It’s dark red wood with a curved brass handle. It’s probably the most posh thing I’ve ever seen him with. He leans on it heavily as he walks in. His legs still look very shaky, like thin branches in the wind. He stumbles on the dip in the wood floor. Immediately I’m on my feet, rushing to his side. I catch his arms, and suddenly realise what the fuck I just did. My eyes meet Snow’s plain blue ones, wide and wondering. I have to actively stop myself from getting lost in them. We stare at each other as the seconds stretch out. I finally come back to my senses, then clear my throat and look away.

“Are you alright?” I ask.

“Y-Yeah,” Snow says.

“Good.” I take a step away, putting a respectable distance between us.

Snow steps forward, still leaning more than slightly on his cane. He sits heavily on his bed with a sigh. I sit on my own, legs pressed together, hands in my lap. I probably look like my father, far too respectable and reserved to look normal. I feel like I’m one bad moment away from falling apart or jumping out the bloody window.

“How are you feeling?” I stare at the dark wood floor. I don’t think I can look at him right now.

“Better,” Simon says. “Penny’s been helping me with moving. My muscles got all funny after two weeks stuck in a bed. But I can walk now, at least with a cane. And I can eat solid foods, thankfully.”

I chuckle quietly. “Back to scones?”

“Soon, hopefully.” I flick my eyes up for a moment, and unfortunately see his big dopey grin. My dead body melts into a white hot puddle. Damn Snow for being so painfully adorable. I have to look down again before I really do defenestrate myself.

“That’s good for you, I suppose.”

“Yeah.”

There’s another stretch of silence. Long, tension filled, agonizing silence. It makes want to eat my own skin. The image is horrifying but accurate. My tongue feels heavy and any ideas for a sentence is utterly idiotic. I’m not used to being at a complete loss for words. Is this how Snow feels all the time? It’s terrible. It gives me a new brand of sympathy for him.

“So,” both Snow and I say at the exact same time.

I look up, and he’s looking back. We stare for a moment, until Snow makes a very dignified snort. It’s like a high pitch hog. My eyes go very wide.

“Sorry,” he giggles. “Sorry.”

“Uh, it’s fine,” I say.

He keeps giggling and snorting. And it’s so stupidly ridiculous, that I laugh as well. I’m quieter and more controlled, as usual, but I’m still laughing. Snow makes a few more snorts, and it turns into a full blown howl. Head thrown back, hand pressed to his stomach. It’s so beautiful and free, so different from when he was in that bed. Before I know it, I’m howling too. It’s the loudest I’ve laughed in my entire undead life. Our sounds fill the tiny room so perfectly, and it’s absolutely glorious. Bloody hell, why haven’t I felt like this before? Why can’t I feel like this all the time?

Slowly, we start to calm down. The room returns to its usual tranquility, only the sound of birds outside the window accompanying us. Snow and I look at each other once more. He softly smiles, and I smile back.

“I still like this,” he says quickly, like he’s trying to get the words out before he stumbles.

I fiddle with my shaking fingers. “Do we even know what this is, Snow?” He shrugs, making me roll my eyes. “Have you ever noticed half your sentences are shrugs?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “I mean, I don’t know what this is yet. But I meant what I said before. Whatever this is, I really do like it better than fighting. Don’t you?”

I press my lips together, holding my tongue back before I say something stupid. Simon is still smiling, still looks hopeful. I know I shouldn’t want him, but every fibre of my being is crying out for Simon Snow. He offers out his hand, palm up, shaking ever so slightly. It’s so unbelievably kind, just like him.

“How can you even trust me? After everything?” I whisper harshly, because if I’m anything, I’m self destructive as fuck. Happiness and I aren’t allowed to mix, right?

“I’m not sure I fully do, but...” he shrugs and holds his hand out even farther, wiggling his fingers as much as he can. My pulse is faster than the speed of light.

Crowley, I hope I’m not doing something irrepreably idiotic.

Ignoring every sensible part of myself, I reach out and grab his hand.

Snow grins, brighter than the sun he resembles. He slowly laces our fingers together, probably waiting for me to pull away. But I don’t. For once I don’t run away. I let myself take a risk, on the smallest off chance I can find happiness. With Simon Snow.

“I want this too,” I say before I get scared. “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

Impossibly, Simon grins even harder. I’m going to go blind from his light. “I know.”

I raise a curious eyebrow. “How long have you wanted this?”

He shrugs, and I sigh in exasperation. “Yeah, sorry,” Snow giggles, “not the answer you’re hoping for, I guess.. I dunno when, Baz. I don’t really think about things I can’t do anything about. I just know that I want this now. That’s what matters, right?”

I sigh again, but tighten my grip on his hand. “Yeah, I suppose it is. I don’t know what we’re going to do though. There’s a lot in our way.”

“That’s been true about our whole lives, innit?”

I have to nod. “True enough.”

Simon stands up, legs buckling slightly. I grab his other arm and help him turn. He sits himself next to me, so close our legs press together. His warmth shoots up through my body, spreading like a wildfire. I’d gladly burn because of him.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says with complete confidence. “I’m the Mage’s Heir, you’re a Pitch. Between the two of us we can come up with something.”

Bloody hell. He’s so willing to just barrel forward with no plan. It’s ridiculous, yet oddly inspiring. Snow doesn’t need a plan. He just wants us to be happy. The frantic part of my mind can’t handle, overthinking and over-analyzing everything that could go wrong, which is a lot.

Simon keeps grinning. I feel warmer than I have in my entire life.

Fuck everything. I just want him.

“Okay,” I sigh.

Simon’s eyes widen. “Okay?”

“Okay, I’m in. You’re an idiot, but you can have...this, if you want.”

Now his perfect, pretty lips fall open, Crowley, is he trying to kill me? “Really?

I roll my eyes out of pure habit. “Do you have cotton in your ears? Yes, really, you nump-”

And then he kisses me.

The whole world comes to a screeching halt. I’m thrown into near catatonic shock, frozen as Simon bloody Snow pushes his scorching lips against mine. His right hand cups my cheek, calluses scratching my smooth skin in the best way. I’ve never known this kind of feeling. Literally. This is my first kiss. It’s warm, soft, and made a thousand times better because it’s him, Simon Snow. Simon Snow is my first kiss. He’s still kissing me.

I’m living a charmed life.

I stay frozen for longer than I should. Crowley, could I make it more bloody obvious I’m a kiss virgin? Eventually, I let my eyes flutter shut and raise a shaky hand to cup his cheek. It’s just as soft as his lips. I tilt my head ever so slightly, and so does Simon, slotting us together even more. He does this wonderful thing with his chin that makes my thoughts melt into putty. This can’t be happening.

Snow reaches back, brushing the nape of my neck, moving up to weave his fingers in my hair. Then he clenches his fist tight and jams our faces even closer together. I inhale sharply in shock.

Bloody hell, this is real.

I pull away a bit too suddenly. Snow blinks open his blurry, pupil blown eyes. His lips are red and swollen. Could he look anymore like an image from my dreams?

“Sorry,” he says. He’s out of breath. It’s amazing.

I shake my head. “No, it’s fine. It’s just, well, you recently came out of a coma, and you’re still recovering. Maybe you shouldn’t be engaging in any...strenuous activities.”

Simon smiling and starts giggling. It’s utterly adorable. “Aw, you do care,” he says between snorts.

“Obviously.” I lean forward, tapping our foreheads together. It’s a stupidly romantic teen thing. I love it. “I care for you far too much, Simon.”

Snow slowly runs his thumb over my nape and brushes our noses together. “I care about you too. Definitely more than I thought I did.” He grabs my hand, putting it between us. “We’ll make this work, Baz. We’ve both gone through Hell. This will be a piece of cake.”

“And you do love cake.”

We chuckle together, holding each other’s faces, holding each other’s hands. There might be slightly less in our way than I thought, but there’s still a lot. But this is all I’ve ever wanted, and I’m going to fight like hell for it. I think Snow will too.

“We can do this,” he sighs, hot breath caressing my cool skin.

I hold Simon tight. I almost lost him once. Never again. “We can.”

Snow and I sit there for a long while. And for the first time in my miserable unlife, I feel at peace.

———————————————

AN: Hope y'all enjoyed that :) Tbh I feel like this isn't my best work but I'm still proud of it. The fact that I was able to write at all was an achievement. Also I love angsty overthinking Baz lol, and the ending was super sweet imo. I hope to get back to more regular posting soon. Thanks for being patient. See you peeps again soon :)

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #nct fluff #angst #canon divergence #mysnowbazfic

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theasexualelfqueen · 5 years

Text

A Swiftly Turning Screw ( Trigger Warning : Violence)

I cut off the last remaining light in the living room before turning into the large marble brown stairs with my hand touching the sleek brown railing. Stairs have always been a fuel of scare, coming down or going up. You look to fall through the large open cracks going up and going down you trip over the steps. On my feet, I move bravely through the darkness, though nothing lurks in from where my eyes can see. But I'm always looking, looking to see what could be possible and real.

At the end of my journey, I see the long hallway with plenty of rooms. Three on my left hand side, two on my right and one facing me. For a moment, I'm tempted to go to the library on my left side, but I figure the pure darkness, except for the large windows inside, overlooking the trees would still bother me enough to not be able to focus. I decide that I'd sooner go to bed and cover the blankets over my head before John gets here.

I walk to the room, and it's dark enough to be a simple portal to a different plane of existence but the idea of there being light when everything there is in this house implies that we all are resting. There's no one looking in to bother me in this light, no one to call me and ask what's going on. Light at the end of the tunnel but where it's dark should remain dark until light is needed.

It's a peach sheet, queen sized bed that takes up almost half of the room. We have our closets in here but we have other rooms to pack our storage and clothes. I slide in and find myself comforted by the warmth it brings and the hiding from the darkness that I need, that I crave. On our red 4 pannel, glass arch door, and maybe it wasn't the right way to go around it, I left a note explaining to John that I have left dinner on the stove, low enough with a plate on to keep it warm. Why couldn't I have been there to await him you ask ? Sleep comes and drifts very easy when I take my pills. The antidepressants kicks in at times when there's no warning they'll be hitting. So why shy away at telling him and leaving off the explanations ? He takes no heed and does not know why but he accepts it as is.

I throw the cover on me and close my eyes, waiting for sleep to take me over and make me up new when the morning comes striking and over into the glass windows by our side. The dream eludes me however. I keep reaching out for it from the sun cascade I'm floating in but the touch doesn't seem to connect. It doesn't seem to register the sensation of touch and understanding. At this point, I cannot say I have the idea of what I mean to touch out for. As the logistics of my dream eludes me once again, an uncanny familiar voice reaches through and throws me out of the orbit. "Rosemarie, do you remember me ?" It seems I'm going out of my head. "I was your first love remember me ? Rosemarie, don't you remember my name ?" I don't think I've heard of you before. "You'll remember soon. And you'll beg for mercy but I'll still love you. I'll always love you." And just as I was floating, now the sun in the forest area was gone and dicarded. I was still swinging, but in pure glossy darkness. "Don't you remember now Rosemarie ? Are you still lost ?" My body swung over onto the floor, regretting that my eyes couldn't open and not knowing how to avoid this nightmare. "Help me !" My voice rose to hicupping pitch. Hyperventilating is what I should call it.

I then felt huge hands upon me, rough like a shredder and did a paralyze choke as my eyes rose to the ceiling. "Rosemarie ? Breath Rosemarie breath." Tis so, my eyes did not elude me anymore and there was John staring at me with a cross of fear and concern. The smell of sweat was upon me and I feel it made the discomfort enhance. His pale almost pink face and blonde hair brought me back to reality in the most confusing of ways. I leaned back onto the bed and found my that breathing was slowing. Next to me, on a wooden block desk was a radio that he flicked onto the soft rock station.

"And now it's time for the lovers at midnight special with your favorite DJ Henne. We're going to start it off with Close To You by The Carpenters." The pianos started as I watched John strip off his three piece blue pinstriped suit. "I told you there's food on the stove. Aren't you hungry ?" He bent down low from his tall stature to kiss me on the lips. "Let me stay here with you okay ?" He flipped the covers onto his body and huddled close to me. He inhaled up my scent, perfume if you will and took me into his arms.

I had never this safe as before in his arms. My eyes closed again and into a state of dreams I fell into more peacefully

***

When I awoke, then I felt peculiar once again. John was still holding me, tightly enough as though I wouldn't fall out of his arm but something had changed. The air put me into a state of unease. I twisted the other way to look to find my comfort but still I felt unease. Everything looked as they could look. Everything certainly felt in the physical sense the same. But yet the inner workings of my brain was on a countdown to breaking down. But that's when I heard it. I heard the low grown coming from besides me. The eyes, malicious in tone, felt me up and looked me down. I could see the hairs on his arms rising and building up until it completely covered him. The pink clear nails transformed into claws. There's no need to describe the rest to confirm. With all of my strength, I tried to pull through and away from his arms but the hope was all lost as he pulled me back with his claw. A deep gaping wound was left. A big chunk of meat from my elbow to my shoulder hung off from the bone on what was my right arm.

"Rosemarie. Oh poor Rosemary." The radio spoke in a mocking reproduction of concern. "Does it hurt ? Does it hurt enough for you to want to come back ? But….oh dear Rosemary don't you know you can't throw back time ?" Tears rolled out of my eyes and I didn't bother to wipe then away. What does it matter where you're going and never come back ? "You'll be back Rosemary. I'll always bring you back. You deserved to be brought back. I love seeing you suffer, just as you have made me to watch you. You'll always suffer until I have made you new again. New enough for me" I find my mouth uncontrollably flowing out blood as the wolf brings his teeth upon my throat to slash it and rip it out. Now the white meat is showing, jutting out and pink from blood.

Watch how merciful the media will be to the wild animal who assaulted me. What did she do to provoke ? What did do to endanger it ? Why'd she exist way too close to it ? They'll find their faults. They won't put down the dog.

My hands went inconsolably still, and so did my legs when they found a way to stop shaking. From my glazed over eyes in the mirror of my glasses, I found the animal morphing into another one. "Rosemary!" The way he screeched seemed both an uncanny mix of beast and human. He rushed over to me and stood over me, waiting to swoop me off the ground. "Rosemary, say anything to me please. Anything !" My body was stone and mouth twitched with pain, I could hope only that he could hear my hatred. "I hate you" I thought. "I hate you". The hate I gave could only burn from my eyes before the light broke the cord and it faded away. "Rosemary…" His face turned agonized fully. "I can never have-" And on the thrones of pain I died in white pure light.

#short stories #short story #1970s #black writer #young writers #writeblr #writing #writing is hard #writing community

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the-minavi · 7 years

Text

Dream

Three years ago, I was prescribed an antidepressant, Venlafaxine. The medicine did terrible things to me, including giving me hallucinations and awful nightmares if I was late on a dose. At the time I wrote down all the nightmares but I’ve lost most of them. Today I found one that I remembered having emailed to a friend. Reading it now, three years later, has been a trip and I thought I would share it with you all.

WARNING: This is very violent!

The dream started with my parents. They weren't actually my mom and dad but in the dream they were my parents. We lived in this sort of strangely shaped house that was by this nasty swampy water that was all covered in algae and led out to the ocean. The water was dark and scared me. Over time I noticed that my parents were fighting more and more over less and less reasonable things. They would scream at each other and then they started getting violent. One day someone came over to the house and my father flew into a rage at him for 'trespassing' and killed him. My mother and father started fighting over this- not over my father killing him but over what to do with the body. It got violent again and that's when I realized that there was something wrong. There was some sort of disease that was making people go insane and violent. I slipped into the dark scary water just as I saw my mother kill my father by bashing him over the head with something and pushing him down the stairs.

As I swam out to the ocean I had to go through the algae covered part of the water and I realized what I hadn't known before. Under the algae were bodies. Hundreds of them. Some of them were nothing but skeletons and some were more recently dead. Cold, white and bloated, floating just below the surface of the water. The only way I could get to the ocean was to push my way through the mass of bodies, feeling their limbs and hair against me.

Eventually I made it to the ocean and I just kept swimming. As I went, I realized that there were other people swimming. One guy was pretty close to me and he explained that they all had seen the disease sweep across the world, driving people into mad frenzies. We were the immune ones and we'd all escaped into the ocean to get away. He was nice and he paced himself to my swimming so I wouldn't be alone. There were a lot of us, I could see us dotting the horizon any way I looked, but we were still just a tiny percentage of the human population. It was a long, hard swim. It felt like it would never end. Some people couldn't keep up. At one point I met an Asian woman who was struggling through the water with a newborn girl on her back. She begged me to take her daughter because she wasn't going to make it, so I took the baby just as she sunk beneath the cold waves and I carried her on my back as I continued to swim.

Finally we came to land. I don't know if it was an island or a continent or what, but there were people there. My guy friend and I arrived and trudged up onto the beach, exhausted, but before we could rest the people there told us that we had to meet 'The Old Man'. They guided us back past the beach and into the forest where we found a little cabin with two rooms. In the first room was a table and behind the table sat a very old man. His skin was almost gray and he had no hair other than a long mustache. His eyes were narrow and his face was covered in wrinkles. He looked at me and said that I was clean. Then he looked at my friend and calmly said that, "He's a cranky one."

Immediately the people who had brought us here were on alert, backing up from my friend and tensing, some unsheathing knives that they carried in their belts.

One of them grabbed me and pushed me back behind them so I stumbled into the other room, which was the Old Man's bedroom. I could barely see over their heads, but my friend looked around and then his face grew hard and he pulled a pistol out of his pocket and said that we were all insane and that we had to be put down like the animals that we were. The Old Man looked him very calmly in the eye and told him to kill himself. Without another word my friend put the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. That's when I learned that not all people who got the disease went irrationally crazy. Some of them just went insane and murderous but stayed smart enough to hide it. Only the Old Man could tell, by looking them in the eyes.

We all settled in that area- the clean ones and I, with the baby girl who I adopted as my daughter. She was an adorable, round-faced little thing with thick black hair and shiny big eyes. I called her Bei Bei because I never learned her name but I thought her mother was Chinese and I thought that I'd heard somewhere that it was a Chinese name that was endearing and I wanted her to have some tie to her heritage.

People built homes. Most of them stayed very close to the Old Man. I didn't. I went down the beach. It was a couple hours walk away from the old man that I found this narrow sort of inlet from the ocean that had a river flowing out into it. It was a little swampy like my old home but not as scary and it had these big, fat trees growing up out of the water. I found one that had died, out in the middle of the inlet, and I climbed up about twenty feet and cut it off so it was flat (I don't know where the tools came from, but I had some). Then I built a platform on top of that and, over time, it became a full fledged house. I had a rope ladder that I could climb up and then if someone approached who I didn't want to get in, I could pull up the ladder. It was a tiny house. There was a bed that Bei Bei and I shared and there was a little kitchen where we made food. It was crude but there was a counter and a little stone fireplace that I'd built into a bit of a stove with a chimney made of rocks so that it wouldn't fill the house with smoke. One one side there was a hatch that led up to a little platform where I made fishing lines and tied them to a railing so that when I came home at the end of the day there would sometimes be fish on my line that I could cook for dinner.

There was another woman who built her home near me. She had a young son, three or four, that she'd managed to bring over with her. We decided to stay close since we were the only ones with little children. She became my good friend but she wasn't as good at building a house as me and had a couple of failed attempts to mimic my tree house over the water before she gave up and built a more normal house on land. Her first attempts generally collapsed at a critical point which was very dangerous because if you fell below the surface of the water, the crocodiles would get you. The water was full of them and they were big and you could see their shadows as you moved out to my house. I had a nice little flat-bottomed boat I made and as long as we stayed in the boat, we were safe. I liked the crocodiles because they kept anyone else from getting to my house.

Time passed and we would often go and visit the rest of what had become a village. When Bei Bei was five or six we visited and found that the village was in an uproar because someone had gone crazy and killed someone else before killing themselves. That's when we learned that even though we thought we were immune, the people here could still somehow get the disease. After that, we visited the village far less frequently.

We still had to go, though, because while we were mostly self-sufficient (with our fish and our vegetation gathering around the river) there were some things that people in the village made that we couldn't. We would bring fish and trade with them because our river had different fish than they had and they were very sweet and delicious. Usually either my friend or I would go and the other would watch the children so we didn't have to expose them to the villagers. When I went, I made my friend and her son go to my house, which I felt was safer. One time I went to the village and a man came up to talk to me. We'd talked a lot in the past because he was also from Missoula, so we'd reminisce about our hometown, even though we'd never known each other then. This time we were chatting and he casually says, "I'm getting worried about Missoula. The parks are going to hell and now they've outlawed smoking." It was just so casual and normal but I felt this terrible chill down my spine and in the pit of my stomach because it was obviously delusional. We weren't in Missoula and there sure as hell weren't any cigarettes on our island. I tried to politely get away from him, telling him I had to go ask the Old Man something but he started to get angry with me and wouldn't leave. He grabbed my arm and suddenly he had a pistol and he told me that I was damned right we were going to see the Old Man and we were going to tell him that he needed to make some changes to the city! He dragged me to the house. I think people saw what was happening but they were scared, either of being hurt by him or catching the disease, and they backed away. We got to the Old Man's cabin and he hauled me in. The Old Man was still sitting behind his table, looking the same as always. The diseased man pushed me to the table, gun pointed at my back, and screamed at me to tell him! Tell the Old Man what we think of this f*ing city!!

Trembling and trying with my eyes to tell the Old Man that this wasn't me, I wasn't crazy, I was just trying to do what I had to to survive, I stutteringly told him that Missoula had gone downhill and the parks needed to be looked after and cigarettes shouldn't be banned. The Old Man calmly listened and then turned to the man and told him to kill himself.

He did and I ran back the entire way to my home, only stopping long enough to wash his blood off of me.

More years passed. Sometimes I would take my little flat-bottomed boat up the river to explore a little and see if I could find more and better foods to bring back to my friend and our children. I never brought Bei Bei with me. Keeping her safe was too important for me.

As I came to a very wide spot in the river, farther than I'd ever been before, I found a little house squatted down on a little islet in the middle of the water. I didn't think anyone lived so far away from the main village. I called out to see if anyone was there and I drew my little boat up to the islet. Nobody answered. I was nervous. I was afraid that the residents might be dead or something and I knew I had to check, but I was frightened of what I might find. I drew my long knife that I had used to kill more than one diseased person who had come to my house since the Missoula man incident. If I didn't kill them, they would kill me and Bei Bei. I fed their bodies to the crocodiles. I had become hardened to it.

I stepped into the squat little house. It was dark inside and it took me some time to let my eyes adjust to the light but when they did I realized that there were bones all over the floor. There were desecrated and torn up corpses and blood everywhere. And it wasn't just a haphazard heap. I could recognize furniture made from the bodies of people in various states of decay. On the wall were skeletons and they were fashioned into poses. In one place by the door were skulls that had been posed into 'See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil'. At the back of the room, on top of what looked like a big fireplace made of skulls, were some women's heads. They weren't skulls. They had been killed recently enough that I could recognize some of them as village women, even when they were gray or blue and their eyes were bulging out. At first glance I thought they'd been posed into 'See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil' too, but then I realized that they were mounted in front of the torsos of dead men- no heads, just their chests and arms with their bodies hacked off somewhere around their navels. And the men's arms and been brought around the women's heads so that each woman had both fists of one of the men stuffed into her mouth. For some reason I thought that that part had probably happened before they were killed.

I was horrified and sick from it all but I'd become so hardened to death and the need to survive that all I could think was that I had to get out of there before the resident came back. I turned to go but realized I was too late, he was already there. Standing next to my little boat and staring at me with big, wide eyes that were completely manic in his wrinkled face, was the Old Man. His lips were pulled back in a terrifying smile that showed some of his missing teeth. He was sort of... loose. Like he was standing tall but his arms, legs and head were sort of slack. Like a marionette in the hands of an inexperienced puppeteer.

He came at me and I don't remember all that happened but when I left in my little boat, he was laying on the floor of his hell house with a severely broken leg and a large gash through his belly, courtesy of my knife.

I came home and I held my little Bei Bei and told her we were never going to the village again. We were going to just stay in our little area where it was safe.

More years passed. Bei Bei grew into a young teenager. More diseased tried to come after us, but I killed them all and fed them to the crocodiles. I think the crocodiles knew not to come after me or Bei Bei because then they wouldn't get so many meals. They didn't watch us like they used to and kind of let us go about our business.

One day I was in the house with Bei Bei when she said that one of the lines was tugging. I went to pull up the fish and it was extremely heavy. I was confused and concerned that I might have accidentally hooked a crocodile. I kept pulling, expecting the line to snap, but it didn't and it didn't move like there was something alive on the end. Eventually I got it up and realized that it was my friend's mailbox. She had made this little post box with a flag and everything as a sort of joke to put in front of her house. Obviously it served no real purpose but sometimes the kids would leave little presents for each other to find in there. She treasured that little post box and would never willingly let anything happen to it. I looked down in the water and recognized other debris from her home. Then I heard Bei Bei talking to someone and realized that my friend had come into the house with her.

Panic was choking me. I came into the house and tried to act natural because I knew that the best way to set off one of the diseased was to let them know that you knew they were insane. My friend was talking normally, telling Bei Bei about something her son had done, but she was moving wrong. It was very subtle so unless you were looking for it, you might not notice, but in a way she had that broken marionette limpness to her movements. Before I could get between her and my daughter, she was in my little kitchen, with her hand gripped around one of my knives. Bei Bei realized what was going on then and pressed herself up against the wall, looking terrified but wisely keeping silent. Don't set her off. Just don't set her off.

I tried to reason with her, speaking very softly and slowly. She was our friend. She'd watched Bei Bei grow up. She was an aunt to the girl. She didn't want to hurt Bei Bei. Put the knife down. It's ok. It's ok.

My friend turned her head halfway to look at me through the fall of her wet hair. She must have swum through the crocodile infested water to get to us. In that one eye that was cocked at me I saw both the terrifying madness that I'd seen in the Old Man's eyes at his house on the islet but also a heartbreaking sorrow and struggle. I wondered if the diseased were really completely gone from their minds or if they knew what they were doing and couldn't stop themselves? Before I could consider this more, my friend screamed and slammed her head on my little counter. The knife in her hand had been set just right so that it went right through that horrible, wrenching eye.

We didn't feed her body to the crocodiles. We buried it by her home. Her son told us that he was going into the forest. He was so lost and sad. I told him he could stay with us but he said he couldn't do that. He didn't want to risk going insane and hurting Bei Bei.

My daughter was devastated by this. Not only was he her best and only friend, he was also the only person on the island (maybe left alive in the whole world) who was her age. I think that she thought maybe they would be together, when they were older.

After that, Bei Bei was listless. She would do what she had to to survive and keep food in our stomachs, but she wasn't the vibrant, playful girl she had been. I didn't know how to help her. Who could be happy in a world like this.

One night it was storming. Bei Bei and I were cuddled on the bed because it was very cold. We had windows that were just slits that could let the light in and a thick, heavy door, the better to protect us from the diseased, but it also made it difficult for the little house to be a warm and comforting place, even with a fire in the stove.

There came a heavy pounding on the door. SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!

I hid Bei Bei under the bed- she had a knife of her own now- and looked out the slit of a window. It was dark and the rain was driving. I only saw a glimpse of his silhouette in a flash of lightning, but I recognized the form standing outside the door. Nobody else was that thin or stood like that. Like a marionette with broken strings. "You should have made sure I was dead," I heard him say. His voice was soft, like snake scales rustling over leaves, but I somehow heard him through the storm. I quickly moved to start barring the door. We had boards that we kept next to the door and the hatch up to the fishing platform that we could use to add extra security to the entrance in case a diseased got past our crocodiles.

"Fortunately, I have some tricks up my sleeve from the war," I heard him say. Slime and sandpaper. He could do it, I knew. He could find a way to get in. This time either I had to kill him or he would kill both of us.

Thankfully, that's when my husband woke me up.

#nightmare #dream

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engineeringnovels · 7 years

Text

Chapter One: Business as Usual

I sat near the doorway of an old convenience store in the middle of Buttfuck, Nowhere staring at the carcass of what used to be a person lying underneath the snow covered leaves of a maple tree. A flock of crows fed on whatever scraps of meat remained.. I’ve heard from other travelers that crows were a sign of bad luck. I suppose in this case, they did.

That person probably died of pneumonia seeing how carefully the body was covered . A deadly strain of the terrible illness struck everyone we passed. We thought that if we kept moving, we could avoid contracting it, but Pestilence rode faster than we could run. There used to be fifteen of us. Now, we’re down to five.

The wind howled outside. The inside of the store wasn’t much warmer than the outside, but it was nice to get out of that brutal wind. The place had been looted long ago,but it still had canned food, medical supplies, and even antibiotics if time is spent looking for it. Even looted, people targeted these places for supplies. If my small group of survivors and I found this place, other people can too and people were much more dangerous than the elements.

Time had become more of an enemy than the elements or even other people. The more time we spent searching, the more likely this bitter wind turned into a blizzard or a group of hardened survivors crossed our paths. Still, anything we found gave us an edge over the next guy.

“David!” Someone shook me.

When I turned my head, a perky little ginger named Steph stared back at me. “You started dozing off,” she says.

“I fucking hate farmland,” I reply. “Too much land to cross with little payoff.” Honestly, farmland would be awesome if animals didn’t strip the land bare long ago. Sometimes, we come across some surviving crops, but more often than not, there’s nothing for miles around besides some old house that I wouldn’t go in with just my revolver.

“We’re all tired dude,” Steph stated.

“Yeah, but we had to hike a few miles in that bitter wind. If we were out there a little more, I’d come down with pneumonia,” I declared.

Steph’s face grew dim. I lost friends to illness before especially when we ran out of antibiotics; but for Steph, it hit a little closer to home. My group found her and her brother couple years ago shivering in a tent on our way south during the dying gasps of autumn. We managed to save Steph… Her brother was too far gone…

“Oh, shit… I didn’t mean-”

“Shut up David… Let’s just find what we came here for.”

Steph walked away intensely. I stayed planted in my stop burying my face in my hands wondering how someone could be so stupid.

“What’s up with Steph?” A rugged young man named Danny asked standing in front of me.

“I made a pneumonia joke,” I revealed.

“Dude! You shouldn’t make jokes like that, especially around her!” Danny reprimanded. His tone suddenly changed. “What kind of a joke was it?”

“If we were out in the cold a little more I’d come down with pneumonia,” I repeated.

“Same. I glad we got here when we did. It feels like it’s getting colder every year.”

“Yeah, I did notice we had to travel further south this time,” I pointed out.

“Alright, the faster we get supplies, the faster we get out of this cold,” Danny said.

“Why did you even volunteer us for this?”

“Someone has to do it and I didn’t want to do it alone,” Danny chuckled.

Danny pulled me up onto my feet. We had assignments to make the job a little more efficient. I was in charge of gathering medical supplies, Steph was in charge of gathering food and water, and Danny was lookout.

Steph held up a can of baked beans. “I found some beans!” She shouted.

“Nice! Where did you find it?” Danny asked.

“Underneath the overhang of the bottom shelf. Guess no one wanted to put their face to the ground,” Steph said disappearing behind the shelves.

“How about you David? You find anything?” Danny shouted.

“Just some band-aids,” I paused for a second. “With flowers on it.”

“Got anything else?” Danny whined slightly.

“Just some tampons if you prefer those.”

“I’ll take the flower band-aids…” Danny sighed.

I hopped over the pharmacy counter nearly tripping over my own foot in the process. The freezing wind whistled in through a hole in the ceiling. A small pile of snow covered some cardboard containers at the base of the hole. Still, medicine still sat on the shelves. At this point, the chances of finding painkillers or antibiotics were slim. However, medication for high blood pressure and antidepressants still remained on the shelves; these were fairly useless unless traded at the handful of settlements along the way.

“Are there any trading posts nearby?!” I asked loudly. “I got some meds.”

“Any antibiotics?” Steph replied.

“Nothing so far.”

“It’s already starting to snow. I don’t think we’re making any stops,” Danny declared.

I stuffed three bottles of antidepressants into my bag before continuing my search for antibiotics. I carefully inspected the names of each drug looking for anything that ended in -xin, -cin, -lin, -zole, or -cline. I pushed aside a dozens of drugs trying to see if there was anything left standing. I looked for a solid five minutes without any payoff.

I heard a soft fluttering behind me. I drew my revolver expecting some sort of dangerous creature. A crow flew in from the hole in the ceiling perching right above two pill bottles labelled Amoxicillin. It looked at me inquisitively cocking its head side to side and I stared back at it in disbelief. Slowly, I reached for the pills hoping the bird wouldn’t give me a nasty bite in exchange. It cawed twice before flying back through the hole.

“That can’t be good…” I thought to myself.

Suddenly, the sound of tires grinding against pavement approached us as I quickly stuffed the meds in my bag.

“Pickup truck! Get down!” Danny whispered loudly.

I immediately searched for a back door. Even though power had been off for years, the red exit signs still did their jobs. I found a push door a little further from the pharmacy. Rust and ice covered the hinges and the door frame. I pushed as much as I could, but the door wouldn’t budge. Damn!

I returned to the pharmacy counter where Steph and Danny holed up. The headlights from the truck lit up one wall of the store. The shadows of armed people passed through the headlights.

“I counted at least three,” Steph whispered.

Danny broke open his shotgun. “I have enough firepower to take out two guys if I don’t miss.”

“They don’t know we’re here right? We can sneak around them and if we’re lucky, take their truck from right under their noses.”

I peeked over the shelves to get a more accurate headcount. Four people entered the store cautiously with their weapons up. These guys looked tough. Their stone faces showed no signs of mercy or compassion. One of them levelled their gun at me. I quickly ducked under the shelves.

“Four guys, rifles and shotguns,” I reported. “And they don’t look friendly.”

“Do they have body armor?” Danny asked.

“No, they don’t look military. Maybe cold…”

“David! This is no time for jokes! Are you sure that there are only four of them?” Danny asked.

I quickly peeked over the shelves again. Still, only four people were inside. I gave a Danny a thumbs up to confirm my findings. I remained semi-exposed a little longer just to see if anyone else. A truck door slammed. I held my finger up. A little girl no older than thirteen came in with a duffle bag.

“We have five people in here with us,” I added.

“Alright, where are they grouping up?” Danny asked.

“Left side.”

“Ok, we’ll try to sneak out through the far wall.” Danny handed Steph his backup automatic pistol. “Take this Steph.”

“I’ll be fine. I got my knife,” Steph answered confidently bordering arrogance.

“Are you sure?”

The strangers started grabbing things off the shelves quickly making their way towards us. “Guys, they’re coming this way!” I said desperately. Steph grabbed the pistol.

“Spread out and stay low! Move out!” Danny ordered.

We broke off into a different aisle. My revolver trembled in my numb finger tips. I kept moving one foot at a time. I peered over the shelf. They didn’t notice...yet… I came across a wide open corridor; the safety of the aisle just out of reach. Danny and Steph poked their heads out.

“What’s that?!” A voice boomed.

We retreated into the aisles. I stared at the entrance. Heart pounding. The footsteps inched closer. A box crunched under a boot. I turned towards the entrance to the aisle. My neck cracked in intervals. The footsteps got louder. I extended my weapon arm. I half-cocked the hammer. Click!

“I found a twinkie!” The plastic wrapper crinkled.

“Are you done thinking with your stomach?” A more commanding person yelled. “I want to be out of here before the weather gets worse.”

The footsteps got quieter. I poked my head out again. The strangers were more spread out now. I turned toward Danny.

“Go!” He mouthed.

I held my breath. One… two… THREE! I darted across the corridor. I fell onto the ground face first. I quietly gasped. My breath rose slow and high. Safe behind the aisles once more. Just a few more feet to freedom.

Crash! Steph stumbled into something in the next aisle over. Fuck! We almost had it!

“Fan out! Block off the exit!” Someone ordered.

Footsteps frantically raced around. I peeked over the shelves.

One of them saw me. “There’s one over there!” Somebody shouted.

I ducked back down. They’re coming for me. ME! I suddenly became immobilized; my body curling into a fetal position. My breathing quickened into some panicked pace.

An echoey voice screamed at me followed by a sharp whack to the face. “Don’t take unnecessary risks. You endanger yourself and I hope to God you are alone. If you aren’t, you risk the lives of your friends! They will die…”

They will die rang in my head over and over. They will die! They will die! They will die! THEY WILL DIE!!!!

I felt a hand suddenly grabbed my shoulder. I jammed my gun in that person’s gut. Silence.

“Thank God that thing is ancient!” A familiar voice quietly gasped. Danny pushed aside my gun.

“Shit Danny!”

“Shhh! Don’t move!” Danny pointed backwards. Steph darted past.

“Grab him!” Someone shouted. Three guys followed Steph.

“Follow me!” Danny ordered. We crouched to the end of the aisle. “There’s one guy right there. I’ll circle around and try to distract the rest. You take care of this guy and anyone else that comes your way.”

“Got it,” I replied.

Danny turned to leave, but he tapped me on the shoulder again. “Oh and David?”

“Hmm?”

“Make sure your gun shoots this time,” Danny smirked.

He shuffled away. My thumb reached for the hammer one more time. Click! I took several deep breaths. Steph’s struggling echoed through the hollow store.

“What are you doing here?!” The same commanding voice boomed. “How many of you are here?!”

“I’m here alone!” Steph replied.

“Bullshit! No one has survived this long alone.”

Steph let out a soft squeal.

“Now, I’ll give you one last chance to rethink your situation before I gut you like a pig.”

Steph spat in the guy’s face.

“Why you little-”

Boom! Boom! Two shotgun blasts broke the tension. I rushed around the corner. Pop! Pop! One in the gut. One in the chest. Gunfire clattered. Pop! Boom! Pop! People screamed. People died. The scent of gunpowder hung in the air.

Rapid footsteps approached me. I turned. I faced the business end of a hunting rifle. Behind it was the girl; a poor soul who had to grow up too quick. I hesitated. She fired. A dull searing pain grazed my face. She struggled with the bolt. “THEY WILL DIE!” rang in my head. Click! Click! I didn’t hesitate again. Her body hit the ground before I realized what happened.

Another loud boom.

“Danny!” Steph shrieked.

My stomach tightened. I ran fast. White smoke rose above the aisles. I turned a corner. A gun waited. I stepped back. Pop! The bullet just missed my face. Another shot boomed. I came around the corner again.

Steph had a knife to her throat; held there in one hand by a grizzly looking man. In his other, a pistol aimed at Danny. Danny sat against a wall his body brushed a new coat of blood. His shotgun was just out of reach, but a thin pillar of smoke rose from a barrel.

“Shoot him David!” Danny groaned.

“Don’t shoot!” Steph pleaded, the knife pressed into her throat.

“I’m giving you a chance to walk away,” I declared aiming my gun at the man’s head.

He instinctively hid behind Steph. “You shoot me and this knife slides right across her neck.”

“If you let her go, I’ll let you live,” I proposed.

“And you get to go free after killing my friends?”

He was right. If that had been the other way around, I’d kill all of them. This wasn’t good. If I made any moves, Steph dies. Her life was in my hands. What do I do? I looked at Steph’s frantic eyes. Her eyes bolted to the floor and back up. I quickly glanced at her feet. The slight end of a wooden handle stuck out of her boot. She still had her knife.

“This is your last chance. Let her go now!” I demanded. It was futile. His eyes revealed his choice.

I aimed low. The man’s gun flew out of his hand. He was distracted for just a moment. Steph broke free. She grabbed her knife. A sharp thrust. A sudden twist. Steph retreated. The man fell to his knees. I flipped a lever on my hammer. Boom! Birdshot peppered his body. The man slumped onto the floor. I cautiously approached the man.

“My daughter-” he said choking on his blood.

“Dead,” I coldly replied. The man’s eyes filled with tears. He inhaled sharply twice more then expired. My gun arm dropped to my side. In less than five minutes, four adults and one child lay dead inside an abandoned rotting convenience store.

“David,” Steph said with careful horror. She went to hug me.

“Don’t!” I exclaimed.

Steph stopped in her tracks.

“It’s just business as usual,” I said solemnly before walking away.

I returned to the little girl. She wore a cap with an obscure sports team and a gold cross around her neck. Her eyes were still open. They say that eyes are the doors to people’s souls. What did she see in her final final moments? Did she see a monster or just a broken person? I fell to my knees and shut her eyes. How many people has she lost? How many people did she kill already? Not even two minutes ago, she was still breathing the same frigid air, feeling the same bitter cold. She had so much potential. And I cut it short. I sat back staring at the holes I put in her. I buried my face in my hands and wept.

#chapter 1 #short story #writing #strong language #novel

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