#this is after she pissed on my office carpet (she's not allowed in my office idk how she got there for long enough to piss all over it)

[feytouched]

my dumbass dog zaya chewed up all the lowest hanging ornaments on our xmas tree AND the battery pack for the lights -_-

[jerzwriter]

Hello, hello! This week, we are going on a little:

Home Tour!

Notes: Answer the following with pictures (dialogue from your characters is optional!). Collages are highly encouraged if you want to answer a question with multiple pictures because tumblr mobile only allows 10 total pics. Otherwise, tumblr on a desktop lets you add multiple pictures (non-beta)!

For both:

What does the outside of the home look like? (Front/back yard, garden, pool, etc)

Living room and home office (if any)?

Kitchen and dining room?

Bedrooms? (Master, guest, others)

Other rooms?

Do you own your dream home? If not, what does that dream home look like?

What is your favorite room to spend time in with each other?

Casey: Hello Bree! Welcome to our home! We're so excited to have you here! Honestly, you're our first guest! We just closed recently, and we've been doing some redecorating, but we're not done yet.

Ethan: Why don't we show her outside first, it's mostly why we ended up here.

Casey: Yes it is! See, the Seaport is very special to me, ever since I moved to Boston, this is the place that I find the most peace.

Ethan: Plus, we will show you the exact place that I tracked her down and told Casey that I loved her for the first time...

Casey: FINALLY - after 3 years.

Ethan: Can we put that in the better late than never category and finally move on?

Casey: Pfft.. not on your life! (Giggles and pushes him with her shoulder) Anyway, these are some pictures we'll leave with you. You can see the exterior of our building and the rooftop pool where I will be spending A LOT of time in the summer. Also, the picture of Harborwalk at sunset, that is the spot Ethan was talking about and we have a perfect view of it from the balcony off of our bedroom. (SQUEAL)

Ethan: See, that's how I knew this was the place. After touring dozens of places, this is the only one that made her squeal.

Casey: And we know how he likes to make me squeal!

Ethan: We'll get to the bedrooms, Casey. (laughs)

Casey: This is our foyer and the living room. By the way, the painting in the foyer and the carpet in the living room... no bueno... they will be going soon. Bu, the view from the living room...

Ethan: Case, refrain from squealing again!

Casey: But you love it when I squeal! (pouts)

Ethan: Yes, but you may be scaring Bree.

Casey: (Sighs) Anyway, this is our home office.

Ethan: We're also redecorating here, it will be designed with two desks so we can work in the same room. We could convert one of the bedrooms into another office, but I like the idea of us working together.

Casey: Yes, until I piss him off... then he'll be sitting on the couch with his laptop. (laughs)

Ethan: You don't piss me off.

(She shoots him a look)

Ethan: OK, I guess we could always put a desk in one of the spare bedrooms as a back up. (smiles)

Casey: Now, the little alcove with the 2 chairs, that's the first place we decorated. I freaking LOVE it. I will be spending hours there just reading and taking in the views.

Ethan: And if she hasn't pissed me off...

Casey: Or vice-versa...

Ethan: I'll probably be sitting there with her. (Looks at Casey). I never piss you off.

Casey: (Laughs uncontrollably). Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, why don't we head to the kitchen, I need some water after that joke.

Ethan: (Rolls eyes) I do love her...

Casey: Now, here is the room where I will be spending the least amount of time. The kitchen.

Ethan: Yes, this is my domain, but she will be doing the clean-up here since I will be doing the cooking. We really don't need to be in the hospital more than we already are.

Casey: And what is that supposed to mean?

Ethan: I will be cooking, so we can avoid food poisoning.

Casey: I mean, he's not wrong. (She shrugs) Self-awareness is important! Now, let me show you the outdoor areas, this was a huge selling point because we essentially have an outdoor dining room and living room!

Ethan: Like we said, Casey feels happiest and most secure when she's by the water and, well, that's all that really matters to me.

Casey: Awww, baby.

Ethan: I mean it, I always wanted a townhome in Beacon Hill, but for seeing her so happy... well, that's better than any townhome.

Casey: (Whispers to Bree) This is why he gets it a lot. (laughs) Oh, before we head to the bedrooms... Check! Out! My! Bathroom! I swear to God I'm going to have wrinkled skin forever because there is NO way I am ever leaving that tub. Ever.

Ethan: As you can see, that was another big selling point.

Casey: Last but not least, these are our bedrooms. Yeah, four, it's excessive, but we figure this way we can be here, possibly forever. It's not like we have to move if we have children.

Ethan: Yeah, a house in the suburbs really wouldn't be our thing.. so...

Casey: Oh, no way. I grew up in Philadelphia and I was crushed when my parents moved me to the 'burbs at 12. If we have kids, I want them to grow up in the city, I think it's the best experience. We're also close to the Eliot Innovation School, where I'd love our kids to go. If we have kids that is...

Ethan: Casey has already made it clear... no snooty private schools, public school it is. She wants our kids to have a normal childhood.

Casey: Well, as normal as it can be growing up in a luxury condo. (She gets quiet and a little teary.) You have to understand, as grateful as I am for all of this, it is also a little hard for me. I didn't grow up like this, neither did Ethan, but, to me, it's hard to have so much when there are others who have so little. So, we had a talk and I insist that we do more to give back. The minute we got this place, I signed up for more volunteer hours in the free clinic and I will be involved with other things too, because, look, I know how lucky I am ... (she gets emotional and trails off).

Ethan: Casey is still adjusting, she's not a borderline snob like I can be at times. She really has a heart of gold and, that's one of the things I love about her. I promised her that we will make good on our pledge. Those who have much, should give much. That's how we will live and that's how we will raise our children.

(Casey gives Ethan a huge, lingering hug.)

Casey: I love you.

Ethan: I love you, too.

Casey: ANYWAY. Please excuse me, I am sure I am PMS-ing right now (she laughs), these are the bedrooms. We just redecorated ours (with the brown spread), then we have the guest room.

Ethan: Since the other two have such spectacular views we have made them sitting areas for now. But that will more than likely change in time.

Casey: And that's our place! I'm really excited, we just closed and it's like a dream.

Ethan: You know, before you go, Bree, can I take you downstairs. Hun, I'd like to show her the gym and the common areas, do you mind.

Casey: (Sensing he'd like her to stay behind...) "Oh, sure.. well, it was great seeing you again Bree, and please come over soon. I promise I won't cook!

(Walking in the hallway Ethan whispers to Bree, even though they are long past the point where Casey could hear him.)

Ethan: Casey doesn't know this yet, but by the time this article comes out she will, so I thought I'd give you a sneak peek. Since she loves the water so much and my goal is to make her the happiest woman alive, this is her wedding present. I'll be sharing it with her next week. Other than my real estate agent and my attorney, you're the first to know.

Ethan: I want us to spend as many weekends as we possibly can there and, one day, maybe that's where we will retire. I know we will make a lot of great memories here.

(Bree is clearly overwhelmed and impressed.)

Bree: She is going to LOVE this! Oh my God, please let me come and interview you there once you share it with her! She is the luckiest woman in the world!

Ethan: Of course, you can be our first guest there too! But just to be clear, I am the lucky one.

If you read this far, thank you... I seriously don't think this could be more disgustingly sweet. LOL :)

Also - yes, I went out of my way to show MC is not 100% comfortable with this life of luxury and she wants to be socially responsible. I created her as a young woman who came from humble beginnings and preferred her urban lifestyle. Her parents moved her to the suburbs thinking it was best for her, and she hated it. This is important to who her character is and that will be evident as you get to know her better. My Casey is a kind, badass, open-minded woman who will fight for equality. I'd want to be friends with. :)

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[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: The Confession

Chris Evans x Best Friend Reader

Warning: Cursing, Super Angst

Words: 3.2k

Summary: Not this time.

Note: Okay, so I told you guys I had an idea and that it was new to me and my blog. TA-DA! I am super excited to see how far I can take this and how I can make this work. I hope you guys enjoy it and I hope this isn’t trash. I have no idea how long this will be, so let’s play it by ear. Tell me what you think. Like it? Hate it? Ways to improve?

Note 2: So we have a series cover. What do you guys think? I don’t love, love it but I like it. 🤷🏽‍♀️ 

Note 3: I tagged everyone who asked for forever tags and those from quarantine thinking you may like this. If you want off, shoot me a message and it’ll be done. Thank you for reading lovelies! 😘😘

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive--kinda***

Previous Chapters: 1  | 

You didn’t sleep one wink after that. Who could sleep after that? You sat up just staring out to nowhere. When you weren’t sitting, you paced your apartment like some crazy woman. When that became too much, you just flipped the tv channels, never staying on one thing long enough to comprehend what was happening. You were restless, and that restlessness freaked you out.

There were so many times you held your phone and just stared at the exchange in a hyper state of anxiety, wondering if he’d send more. After the final message, though, he didn’t send any more. That should have been a relief, but it wasn’t. You then began to wonder why he hadn’t sent any other messages. You wondered if he was drunk and just saying random things, or if he’d meant to send them to someone else.

 By the time the sun was rising, you hadn’t slept a wink. You were wired, mentally exhausted, and completely confused. You were not functioning normally. It took you forever to get dressed and ready to get out the door. By the time you got to your office, you were almost two hours late. That two-hour push back was not ideal. It meant your day would be two hours longer and you had to work triple time to catch up. Thankfully, the only thing that was thrown out of whack was your ability to have any breaks. When you finished one meeting, you immediately had to jump into the next meeting or task. You did your best to stay focused, but it was difficult.

Once the time the normal workday was finished, you were still left with so much to do. The event was two days away, and there were so many things to iron out. Every time you were in the middle of one thing in came the memory of the text messages from last night. That resulted in you rehashing the whole thing before you groaned and got back on track only to repeat the cycle ten minutes later. You heard the chime on your phone go off, and terror stilled you. What if it was Chris, you thought. Five minutes of internal turmoil passed before you took a deep breath and dug your phone out from inside your desk drawer. 

Scott’s message was a relief. After a few deep breaths, you responded with a straightforward lie.

You thought about if you should tell him all about your last twenty-four hours. Chris was your best friend in the world, but you also adored his siblings. With the amount of time you spent with Chris, Scott was almost always around. They had a close relationship, and through your childhoods, you’d gotten close to Scott too. As you began to type to tell him what happened, you paused and deleted it all. You still didn’t know what last night was. You were too chicken shit to text him back to find out. It was like you believed if you just didn’t acknowledge it, then nothing happened, and nothing would change.

Unlikely, but possible, you thought.

He was right. It used to annoy the heck out of you, but you’d come to accept it. He’d always tried to get you out and moving so many mornings before the sun even rose. You were always the one to refuse and try to hide and lock him out. Nothing kept him out, though; he always found a way in to drag you out of bed. 

Highly likely and possible. As you typed it, you screwed your face. You’d come to terms with the fact of Chris being a bit of a—free spirit. You’d been around to see all of his girlfriends, the ones that lasted for a year or more, and even the ones that were just months; all of his flings, and all of his one-night stands. You never judged; it wasn’t your place, and honestly, as long as everyone was consenting, you didn’t care. He was a man with needs. His confession flashed through your mind again, and it swirled with the knowledge of him sleeping around. It didn’t make any sense.

Once you shot off the text, you began to wonder if he was okay. Yeah, there were times he got so busy he just didn’t respond to messages until later but usually if his family called back to back he’d answer. Maybe he was with some girl and too enthralled in their sexcapade that he just couldn’t get around to answering. You began to type a message off to Chris to check if he was okay, but halfway through, you deleted the entire thing. 

“Jesus Chris, Y/N. Thirty-something years of friendship, and now you can’t talk to the man?” You groaned in frustration as you dropped your head to your desk with a heavy “thud.” When your phone went off in your hands, you yelped out in the quiet office, scaring yourself half to death.

That was all it took for your heart to begin a thunderous pace. With bugged eyes, you just stared at the flashing dots that signified he was writing a message.

You bit your bottom lip hard, so hard you tasted the copper-like liquid on your tongue. You weren’t sure just what you were feeling, but you knew it was more than one emotion. Feeling like his words were your sustenance, you inched the phone closer to your face and waited as the dots appeared again.

You gaped at the phone as if it were his face. Just what the fuck were you supposed to say? He knew you better than that. He knew that if you didn’t know what to say, you would remain silent. He also knew that if you didn’t respond, you were pissed. Did he think you were pissed?

They came in like rapid fire. He was texting as he thought. He did it often with you. You did too. 

Panic set in as you realized it was true. “Oh, fuck!”

 It was then your phone began to ring, showing Chris’s face on the screen. Yelping, you accidentally tossed your phone in the air and saw the error of your ways in seconds. As you tried to catch it, it bounced off your hands a few times only to slip through your fingers and bounce on your carpeted floor. When it landed face down, the door opened.

 “Are you okay?”

 You were frozen half laid across your desk with a look of horror on your face. 

“Yeah. I’m—fine.” You did your best to sound as believable as possible as you straightened yourself before you stood to walk over to your friend, Irisa. She bent and picked up your phone, then held it out to you as you approached.

 “I don’t appreciate having to hunt you down. We had plans,” she scolded.

 You’d completely forgotten that you were supposed to meet her at her place to grab a bite to eat.

 “I’m sorry, I forgot. Things have been crazy today.” Irisa rolled her eyes though you knew she’d forgive you.

 “The only place we can go now that we missed our reservation is Baltic to take advantage of your forever table there.

 “Why are you complaining? You know you love Baltic’s food.”

 “I do, but I wanted to try that new sushi spot tonight. God knows the next time you’ll have time for me might not be New Year,” Irisa whined. It was your turn to roll your eyes as you walked back to your desk to gather your things.

Before you put your phone away, you saw another message.

Now he wants to talk. Hadn’t he done enough talking?

Shaking it off, you dropped your phone in your back and turned back to Irisa.

“Why are you so dramatic?”

 “Maybe I learned from the best,” she finished as the two of you walked out of your office.

 You tried to stay present in the cab while the two of you made your way to dinner. You tried to listen to Irisa talk about her day and the blissful bubble she found herself in with her boyfriend, Callum. You knew they’d make a good match; that was why you set them up. Two years later, they were still going strong. Irisa and Callum liked to tag along with you when you hung out with Chris. You didn’t mind; it was always a good time. Annoyance filled you because no matter what, everything usually led back to him. It felt strange to leave him on read. You were always talking throughout the day.

 When you arrived at Baltic, the hostess Bree recognized you and gave you a welcoming smile.

“How are you, Y/N?”

 “I’m good. How are you?”

 “Great. You know I love this place, plus I just got a raise.” You high fived her.

 “Congratulations. You know this place would crumble without you.”

 She laughed loudly and shook her head. “I’m glad the boss isn’t here to hear you say that.” You smiled and allowed her to lead you and Irisa to your seats.

 “Your usual.”

 “Thank you, Bree.” She nodded and walked away back to the hostess desk.

 “I still think she--,” Irisa began before you cut her off with a loud, obnoxious sound. You didn’t want to hear it at all.

 “Okay, fine, I’ll shut up.”

 “Finally,” you joked.

 For the next several minutes, the two of you skimmed the menu and got to talking about the plethora of random things you did when you got to together. You never stayed on one topic for too long, but you always came back to those same topics. Everyone always teased the two of you of your scatterbrain antics, but neither of you cared. This was how the two of you worked.

 An hour later, you and Irisa were deep in plates of food. Since you’d skipped lunch and all breaks, you were starving, and it was apparent thanks to the multitude of plates that were spread out across the table.

 “So, is everything planned for tomorrow?”

 You nodded your answer as you tried to finish the calamari in your mouth. “That had been planned for a while now. What kind of planner would I be if I was still preparing twenty-four hours to the event?”

 “Girl, a simple yes or no would have sufficed,” Irisa shot back.

 She was right. You were still wound tightly thanks to no sleep, stressful conditions, and a particular best friend of yours.

 “Sorry, yes. It’s planned.”

 “Is Chris making the trip back for it?”

 Doing your best to keep a neutral face, you shrugged. “Not sure, but I don’t think so. He’s dead in the middle of working.”

 “Still, it’s an important day for you. He’s always been there for you. I doubt he’d miss it.”

 You thought about her words. She was right. He’d been there for every important event in your life—never missed one no matter what. Thinking back again to his messages and your silence, you doubted he’d come. You shrugged and casually brushed it off.

 “If he’s there, he’s there. If not, eh.”

 Irisa studied you with a quizzical look on her face. She’d no doubt heard the over flippant tone in your voice and was now putting on her investigator hat.

 “You sure you’re okay?”

 After taking a demure sip of your margarita, you smiled at her, hoping it reassured her. “I’m good, I promise.”

 Irisa studied you for a few more moments before she nodded and went back to eating.

 By the time you got home that night is was nearing midnight. You were dead on your feet, and thanks to the six margaritas you’d had, the only thing you wanted was your bed. You quickly stripped then face dived into your plush blankets, pushing everything out of your mind hoping to get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow would be a long day.

 ~~~~~~~

 The pounding on the door was what jarred you from your sleep. You rolled and crashed to the hard floor.

 “Ouuuch!”

 When you snapped your head up and the time on the alarm clock beside your bed came into focus, you screeched. It was eleven-ten. Bolting to your feet, you hurried down the stairs to the front door to let in the hired hair and makeup team and your assistant Aamal.

 “We’ve been standing here for almost twenty minutes, Y/N.”

“I know Aamal. I’m so sorry. I have no idea what happened. Come, come in.”

 The team of five walked into your townhouse and began setting up. Aamal held out the black garment bag to you. “You’re lucky I called them this morning. You were supposed to get this yesterday.”

 “I know, everything is crazy. I forgot. I’m gonna be late. Give me twelve minutes to take a shower.”

 You hurried up the steps to your bathroom. You’d gotten good at taking twelve-minute showers and still being squeaky clean. While you showered, you blamed the margaritas you’d had for this predicament you found yourself in now. If you’d kept it at one, then you would have woken up on time, and you wouldn’t need to hurry to make it to the party for twelve. At this rate, you had no idea if you were going to make it at all.

 By the time the makeup and hair team began primping and priming you, it was eleven-thirty. You decided to change the planned hairstyle from a sleep updo to a mixture of loose and flowy curls. It would still go with the outfit, but it would take less time to accomplish. Then entire time your foot shook. It was a nervous tick that you’d had since you were five years old, a tick you still hadn’t outgrown. It was a tick only a select few knew what it meant. You were close to losing your shit.

 When you were stuck in traffic eight minutes from the venue, it was a little after twelve-fifteen.

 “Calm down. No one is supposed to arrive until twelve-thirty anyway. You just like to be early,” Aamal voiced.

 “I have to look over the setting and give any last-minute changes.”

 “I don’t know who plans their own party,” Aamal scoffed.

 You were meticulous and knew what you liked. You didn’t want to hire anyone for something you could do for free. Plus, it gave you yet another opportunity to showcase your knack for this career you chose to be in. You loved it.

 When the car finally arrived, you hurried inside through the service entrance and met the rest of your team. As you approached them, you looked around the venue, already pleased with what you saw. The pinks, greens, golds, and other colors of the tropics all went well together. When you had the idea, it was just a few pictures thrown together, and now it was a full-blown tropical luau. A smile spread across your face was the indication your team needed to know that you were happy with the finished product.

“This is perfect, guys. You did well.”

 They looked relieved and then overjoyed. As they walked you through the glass-roofed solarium, you took in every palm tree, pineapple, and bamboo hut you passed. It was perfect.

 Before you knew it, the room filled with your family and friends, everyone had the same reaction as you. They marveled at the beauty of the decorations and the elaborateness of your plans. You were that planner, the one to bring the elaborateness to life.

 “Y/N!” Spinning around, you saw Scott, Lisa, Carly, and Shanna approach you. Once they got close, they engulfed you in a tight group hug. Groaning, you allowed them to smother you.

 “Goodness, you’re gorgeous!”

 “Thank you. I’m so glad you guys could come.”

 “Really, you’re family, of course we’d be here,” Carly expressed with a wide smile.

 You’d all grown up together in one way or the other, and you did feel like they were your sisters.

 “Your mother and I were making the rounds around the room, and I am amazed at what you’ve pulled off,” Lisa said.

 “It’s beautiful in here. I love it,” Shanna added.

 “Me too. It is so much better than I pictured,” you admitted.

 “You’re so modest. You knew you were going to slay this,” Scott teased. Throwing your arms around him again, you giggled, fully appreciating that he was there.

 Aamal approached your side with a wide smile. “Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt. I’ve been sent to find you. It’s time for your welcome address.”

 “Right. I’ll be right back guys.”

 With your arm looped with Aamal’s, she led you through the crowd of one hundred toward the spot you’d decided was the best for speeches of all kinds. As you passed friendly faces, you warmly smiled at them and mouthed your thanks for their attendance. When you looked back up, that was when you saw him in the back. Instantly, you felt butterflies in your belly. You didn’t know what kind they were, though. Fuck, you thought.

Chris wore yet another great suit you knew he’d picked himself. You could always tell the difference between a CEvans outfit and a stylist put together one. You bit your bottom lip; you could feel it trembling. He gathered in along with the other guests but kept his eyes glued to you.

 “There you are beautiful.” The familiar deep voice beside you brought your attention from Chris. As you looked upon the smiling face of Jaxon standing before you, the butterflies intensified. Again, you had no idea what kind they were.

“Hi yourself, handsome.” Jaxon lowered his lips to your forehead and wrapped his arm around your hip before he faced the guests.

 “Uh, first, Y/N, and I would like to thank you all for coming today to this shower. It means more than you all could ever know. Um, each of you have impacted us as a couple in some way or form, and we want to thank you for your friendship, advice, and support on the path to us getting here. Let’s raise a glass to each of you; you have our eternal gratitude. Here, here.”

 Everyone repeated the words before they took a sip from their glasses. Before anyone scurried off, Jaxon turned to you.

 “And to my beautiful, kind, loving, and immensely sexy fiancé, the day we met, I knew the second you shook my hand that you’d be my wife. I was always told that when a man knows he’s found the one, there would be no doubt in his mind, and I’m happy to attest to that being fact. You are my future, my destiny, and my home. I love you so much. Thank you for agreeing to become Mrs. Pierre.”

 Everyone around you awed and clapped. You tried not to feel self-conscious, but you couldn’t help it. Jaxon lowered his lips to yours, quickly setting the tone for the kiss as he delved his tongue into your mouth. You moaned, sensing his intent, but like always, you quickly got caught up in his kisses and kissed him with a fraction of the passion he kissed you. The cheers and yelps around you had you pulling away before Jaxon got any ideas.

 “Enjoy yourselves, everyone, eat, drink, party,” you exclaimed, hoping to douse the rising humidity in the room.

 One look at Chris in the back of the room, and you could see the storm on his face and recognized and knew it well. 

He was pissed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

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***There are a few that are bold that I tried to tag but your @ wasn’t coming up. I’m not sure why. I’m sorry.

[toastedkiwi]

Fake Girlfriend to Best Friend (1/9)

Summary: it’s exactly what the title says.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: long. So long.

A/N: send me timeline requests or any requests. Definitely is multiple parts. It was a long shot but I was loving the story line and had to make it longer.

Chris and you have been best friends ever since Scott brought you over claiming that you were his girlfriend.

You weren’t. You were just the freshman college student helping out your brother’s boyfriend since his family found out he was dating someone. They begged him to bring his “girlfriend” over.

Scott hadn’t come out of the closet to them yet. You were promised an all expenses paid road trip to any nearby state along with the two of them accompanying you.

So, you drove with Scott to Sudbury, MA, for spring break.

You easily woo’d the family.

Chris didn’t like you though. He was an ass to you until he heard you and Scott talking in Scott’s room.

“You gotta tell them!”

“You knocked her up?!” Chris said busting into the room.

“Excuse me?! I’m a virgin. I’ve only kissed two guys and one is your brother—.”

Scott covered your mouth and said, “I’m gay.”

After that, Scott told him why you were there and the whole plan. It made Chris be a little nicer to you when he realized you were just there helping his little brother out.

It doesn’t stop him from giving you a hard time.

You pretty much became family to them after Scott came out and even though your brother and him broke up.

You also ended up hanging out with the Evans whenever you got any breaks from school.

Even some weekends you went over.

Chris claimed that you’re obsessed with him if he was in Massachusetts at the same time as you.

You always rolled your eyes.

The Evans Brothers took you out on your 21st birthday to some bars in New York and even a couple clubs.

“You guys have beautiful eyes. I’d want my kids to have your eyes.”

The boys laughed and Scott said, “you’ll have a better chance with Chris, honey.”

“Scott!”

Chris had to carry you back to your dorm since you’re an awful drunk and a lightweight.

They tuck you in. They put a glass of water on your bedside table and the bottle of ibuprofen before they leave you to handle your hangover by yourself tomorrow.

You’re completely miserable the next morning and you vow to never drink again.

It gets broken especially whenever the Evans Brothers are in town.

Chris asks you if he should take the role of Captain America. Though he already has other people telling him to like RDJ and Marvel executives.

“Take it. Johnny Storm was shit. I wanna see you fail again.”

He freaks out.

You calm him down and have him lay on top of you.

You wrap your arms around him and start playing with his hair.

“It’s gonna be okay and you’ll be fine either way.”

He takes the role.

He calls you while he’s filming.

You’ve even talked him down from panic and anxiety attacks.

Chris brings you and his family to the premiere of Captain America: The First Avenger.

You meet RDJ along with Chris Hemsworth.

You’re absolutely star strucked and pretty much drooling over the Australian actor. You’re thankful he’s taken and that you have no confidence to ask him out if he wasn’t.

Your Chris gets a bit jealous of how you look at Hemsworth and does anything in his power to keep you away from the Australian.

He even has you sit next to him.

You grip his hand tightly when Bucky dies and seeing Steve look so heartbroken.

“I’m surprised your girl ain’t close to you,” Sebastian Stan teased his costar.

“She’s just a friend.”

“Oh, so, I can ask her out then?”

“No, you cannot. I’ll kill you. Don’t you dare think about it, Stan.”

Sebastian laughs and raises his hands in defense.

After the premiere, Chris gets all cuddly and snuggly with you so much so that he has to sleep in the same hotel room bed as you.

He can get very clingy with you especially if he’s jealous.

He goes back to filming for Avengers and you go back to New York.

You run into Sebastian and get his number.

He introduces you to some people and your first real adult boyfriend.

Sebastian does warn you that his friend is a bit of a heartbreaker. But it does nothing.

You think you’re in love. You’re just a fool.

He takes your virginity and leaves you heartbroken.

You call Chris crying.

He flies out ASAP ready to beat the shit out of the guy.

When he sees you, his heart breaks and he just holds you tightly.

And he spoils you rotten while he’s in New York.

Chris, however, has to fly back to Atlanta immediately. He has Sebastian look out for you.

When you graduate, Chris flies out.

His whole family is there along with your own. Except your brother.

Chris is so proud of you. He tells you that all the time.

You managed to score a pretty well paying job in Boston and so you move to Boston. The Evans celebrate it of course.

You and Chris end up very drunk and in his childhood bedroom passed out on the floor.

His doggie East dies.

Chris comes to your new place crying after having to put him down since he can’t go back home just yet.

You put on his favorite movies but it doesn’t make him feel better. You just hold him as he cries.

Chris starts dating this new chick. He spends all his time with her when he’s in Boston.

He missed your 22nd birthday.

No phone call. No text. No card.

Nothing.

And you’re pissed. He’s been to all your birthday parties or he’s called you to wish you a happy birthday. Even those calls last an hour or so.

Scott tells him. Chris gets sassy.

You don’t speak to Chris for awhile.

Literally. 8 months of not speaking to each other.

He comes crawling back.

You give him the silent treatment for 2 months.

You start dating this guy.

He’s very controlling.

The red flags get ignored.

You don’t go to the Avengers premier because he doesn’t allow it.

Chris gets to talk to you less and less along with Scott.

You run to Chris when your boyfriend hits you.

You end up moving in with Chris in his Boston home since somebody likes to come to your place threatening you.

Chris has you get a restraining order.

Many fun nights together.

A lot of movie nights as well if neither of you want to hit up the town.

He’s gone a lot due to filming.

You get transferred to the office in France since the ex is stalking you at work.

It saddens Chris but he visits you whenever he can and especially on press tours when the stop is in France.

You end up quitting your job when you get harassed by a couple of coworkers and nothing gets done.

Chris hires you as his assistant.

You hate the job since he’s such a little shit. But he pays you very well and has you live with him rent free.

This all happens in the same year.

You throw him a surprise party for his birthday.

Scarlett Johansson offers you a job as her assistant.

You quit and take it without hesitation since the last guy was so demanding.

You see Chris on the set of Captain America: The Winter Soldier. He playfully glares at you.

He calls you a traitor.

Anthony Mackie asks him, “when are you gonna ask Scar’s assistant out?”

Chris glared at him and said, “she’s just a friend.”

Sebastian laughs under his mask and gets punched in the arm.

With busy schedules and he starts dating his on/off again chick, you don’t see each other much.

He does surprise you in Vegas for your 24th birthday.

Though, he does have a full blown argument with his latest chick at your party.

You literally left your own birthday party because of it.

You end up in a 24hr diner by yourself and you make friends with an old man dressed as Elvis Presley.

Everyone tries to find you. You did leave your phone in Chris’ pocket since you didn’t have any and you didn’t have room in your small clutch.

It turns into a Hangover movie but everyone is drunk or tipsy.

Or really really drunk.

They finally find you. And you’re singing with Elvis “Can’t Help Falling In Love” as he dances with his wife who’s the owner of the diner.

They’re shocked. Nobody knew you could sing.

It only happens when you’re a sad drunk.

Chris takes your drunken ass back to your hotel room. He spends the night with you.

You fly with Scarlett to LA for the premiere.

Chris steals you from Scarlett and walks the carpet with you.

“You’re such an asshole.”

“Thank you. I try.”

You start getting hate from “fans” of his.

It brings you down.

Chris puts out a tweet pretty telling everyone to fuck off if they think that they can send you hate.

“You’re my best friend.”

LIES!

You’re so much more to him whether or not any of you admit it.

You see him again on set for Avengers: Age of Ultron.

He’s very happy to see you especially after being cheated on by a girl he thought he might marry.

Whenever Scarlett doesn’t need you, Chris takes you away.

It’s an ongoing joke.

RDJ thinks about hiring you ever since you brought him.

Scarlett threatens him. She’s also pregnant.

Elizabeth Olsen befriends you.

At the wrap party, you and Chris play beer pong against Hemsworth and Renner.

You beat them.

Everyone comes to the conclusion that you and Chris are like frat guys.

The night ends with you and Chris having unprotected sex. (Wrap it before you tap it).

You both don’t mention it at all and act like it never happened. But it did.

To be continued.

[lovelyirony]

sweeter than honey (redux)

Pepper Potts did not exactly mean to become a criminal. Really, she still doesn’t think she is. 

But here are the facts: 

1.) She has broken several laws in pursuit of funds that do not belong to her. 

2.) The FBI would like to talk to her about several things and potentially put her under arrest. 

3.) She can no longer go to her regular coffee shop because the barista snitched and told them her name, as well as her occupation. 

Pepper broke several laws because the company she was working for (Stane International) was technically breaking laws, but laws that do not apply to corporations because corporations do this thing called “funding campaigns” and also sometimes “doing favors.” 

She decided to do the same and suddenly she is a criminal. Not her fault she redistributed money back into the community, and now they can’t get any of it back. 

It’s just how that worked out. 

She’s been staying at a hotel that serves many questionable individuals each month, and it has an indoor pool and a three-star rating on the latest travel website. 

It’s nondescript, not her style, and she’s currently in the bathroom having a crisis because she most likely needs to dye her hair. 

She’s vain. Pepper knows she is, has known it since high school when she trimmed her hair and cried. Her hair, by all accounts, is gorgeous. It’s a shiny strawberry-blonde that makes her look like an ice queen in winter and a mysterious fairy queen in summer. 

She does not want to dye it. But here she is with an eight dollar box of dye and thoughts in her head. 

And then her hotel door opens. 

Not supposed to do that, but that’s what happens when you’re in a three-star hotel. 

She is also in old athletic shorts that have most definitely seen better days and a tank top that was a last-minute buy from the nearest store, and it does not suit her at all. 

Facing her is a man with an odd beard, tinted sunglasses, and a graphic t-shirt over a blazer. 

“So. You pissed off Stane Industries,” he drawls. “I’m impressed. Usually they just sweep their little problems under the rug.” 

“I’ll sweep you under one if you’d like,” Pepper offers, wondering how quickly a blowdryer can knock someone out. She’s not sure how well-made the hotel one is. Probably not very. 

“I’m not here to kill you,” the man says. He takes off his sunglasses. His eyes are a nice shade of brown, not that you’re supposed to notice that about a potential enemy. Pepper is just that skilled. 

“Then what are you here to do? Make me move to Florida?” 

“No, the opposite. We’re staying here. I’m offering you a job position of helping me take down Obadiah Stane and the company itself.” 

“Who would I be working with?” 

“Anthony Stark.” 

Pepper stills. 

She read the news when she was in college, same time as Tony Stark. Went missing in the car crash, no one found his body. Temperatures were freezing, he was wearing a tuxedo. The chances were that he froze to death somewhere that they didn’t find yet. 

Chances were. What an odd little phrase. 

“So, you made it out.” 

“Not as hard as people say it seems to be, Virginia.” 

“Call me Pepper, my first name disgusts me.” 

“Gotcha, Pepper. Call me Tony. You in?” 

“Obviously. What do I need to do?” 

“Meet the team.” 

-

There is Rhodey, who was Tony’s best friend and sobbed on national television for two weeks until they forgot all about him. 

“He’ll cry at anything,” Tony says with a laugh as Rhodey sends him a dirty look. “Just made him think about neon shoes and he bawled like a baby.”

“I did not,” Rhodey hisses. “I was a good crier.” 

 “You looked like a seal,” Pepper intervenes. “But you played the part quite well. Nice to meet you.” 

“Right back at you, Pepper.” 

She meets Happy, a man who is all serious and grumpy and “did not want to break the law before forty” but he also gets to watch Downton Abbey whenever he wants, so he’s not doing too bad. 

He runs security and also tells Rhodey and Tony when they’re banned from ordering pizza all the time, and Pepper is inducted into the Healthy Eating Committee. 

There’s Bruce Banner, who enjoys taking over corporations for fun, and this is his second one. His first was some sort of health insurance scam, and apparently that was just to finish up his thesis for his third doctorate. 

“He has seven degrees, he’s weird,” Tony says. 

“Oh like you’re any better,” Bruce says with a snort. “You learned twelve languages for fun. Including French, which is useless.” 

“French is not useless,” Tony says. “It got us free food in Canada.” 

“We would’ve gotten it anyway if we’d done it my way.” 

“Stealing?” Rhodey asks. 

“Yes!” 

Pepper laughs. 

- 

Their job is a bit easier than anticipated. They found out from Pepper that getting into the building is stupid easy because no one likes their job and will do anything when bribed. 

Tony struts in with a badly-made-employee-ID and talks about a copying machine and coffee and seeing someone next month for dinner. Pepper just keeps her head down and pretends like she’s meeting someone for something. Like usual. 

Obadiah Stane is out of the country on a meeting, and his secretary is scared to death of him, so they’re allowed to poke around the office and find some interesting information. 

The problem comes when someone recognizes Bruce outside (government watchlists: the most pesky things on earth) and suddenly there’s this huge fuss. 

Tony pushes Pepper into an office closet and then promptly asks her if anyone opens the door, if she’s alright with him kissing her. 

“Why would you do that?” 

“People don’t like watching kissing, too intimate. Also, you have a lovely face and you’re quite funny, and I think it’d be fun and delightful to kiss you.” 

“How long have you thought about that?” 

“Not going to talk about that, just want an answer. If you say no--and feel free to, there’s no obligation in physical contact right now--it does complicate plans A to D. I suppose we could play the divorced couple route, but I’m not a gigantic fan about that.” 

“I mean, I guess? It wouldn’t be bad, and I’m not exactly opposed to it, Would it mean anything later?” 

“Do you want it to?” 

“Let’s figure that out after we do it.” 

“If we need to do it.” 

Door swings open. 

Oh, there’s a need. 

Tony is a particularly nice kisser, Pepper thinks. The thought runs through her head that she’s only kissed two people before Tony, and one was in high school so that doesn’t count, but the other was a secretary at an old company she used to work for.

But Tony is nice. Soft and warm and he grabs her waist and that’s nice. 

“Oh my god, sorry,” the employee mutters. “I just, I thought--” 

“Occupied!” Tony says, not even stopping as he kicks out his leg and practically stomps the poor other guy in the stomach. 

They get out, run, and Pepper laughs as she sees a bit of pink lipstick on the side of Tony’s mouth. 

“So, how’d I do?” 

“Send me a survey,” Pepper remarks. “Or a ranking.” 

“On a scale of one to ten?” 

“Seven.” 

“I was that bad?” 

“How do you rank things? Do you put one as the best?” 

“Obviously.” 

“No, you’re an idiot. One is always the worst. You’re a nine. It would’ve been higher but we were in a corporate office and in a supply closet.” 

“So what you’re saying is, I’ll have to try again?” 

“Preferably over a couple glasses of wine and pizza. The good kind, though. Not the garbage Rhodey orders.” 

They approach the car that Happy has, with Rhodey and Bruce already leading others on a goose chase. 

“You two have too much fun,” Happy mutters. “Boss, you got lipstick on your side. Did you get the drives?” 

“Transferred and set to release to every major news outlet tomorrow morning at six a.m.,” Tony says. “Interns are going to curse my name as they’re forced to rewrite articles.” 

Pepper smiles. 

That night, they have a couple of glasses of wine and Tony orders the good pizza, the kind that costs a little bit too much for what it is, but it’s all worth it in the end. 

- 

When Tony takes over the company after about six months of legal battles that would probably have drawn on for well over a decade if not for the fact that Tony is one of the most in-your-face-let’s-talk men she’s ever met, Pepper was kind of expecting things to slow down. 

Of course not. That’s not her style nor is it Tony’s, although arguably a vacation or a nice spa day would have been nice beforehand. 

“We have shit to do,” Tony says. “Rhodey, you need to help me revamp R&D. Pepper, I need to talk to you in the office.” 

They’ve already hired a company to completely redesign the entire building and refocus the company’s outlook, starting with getting rid of the disgusting 1970s carpet and chairs. God, it’s ugly. Pepper cried when she saw the office chairs. 

But she’s in Tony’s office, and she’s wondering if this is going to be directly related to workplace relationships or not. She’s already prepared an argument as to why she still wants a relationship and just how much professionalism she can exhibit in the face of hardship. 

(That hardship being the fact that Tony looks quite good in suits but also has arms that are made for tank tops.) 

“I have a problem with you,” Tony says. “And it’s that I want to make you CEO, but I don’t want people to think that you got it just because we’re dating. So we have an issue to cross.” 

Pepper was not expecting this. She was expecting maybe head accountant, or head of the PR team. But CEO? That was something that was...wow. Pepper had had a fifteen year plan for working up from wherever it was that she would be at. 

She also didn’t know they were dating. 

“We’re dating?” 

“Did I read the kiss wrong? Oh shit, was the seven secretly the bad seven?” 

“No!” Pepper says. “You just never told me that we were dating, we didn’t have a communicative conversation about it.” 

“Oh. Well, would you like to go on dates and things?” 

“What’s ‘and things’?” 

“You know. Sexy times. But I wanted to be a professional about it. But I am not that professional.” 

“No, no you’re not. Which is why you offered me the CEO position and why I am accepting it. But I will also date you...and things.” 

“Excellent. Have a dinner tonight while we discuss how to do Microsoft Excel?” 

“I already know how to use it.” 

“Pepper, you are the only woman for me in this lifetime and the next.” 

“And the one after that?” 

“I’m assuming you’ll get bored of me and marry someone who’s seven feet tall.” 

“Seven feet tall? What, am I going to attend every NBA game for the next husband?” 

“Maybe, I don’t know what you’ll do. I’ll probably be halfway into a grave over despair.” 

Pepper chuckles, dropping a short kiss onto his temple. 

“Well, I hope I don’t have to witness that. You want me to make some salad for tonight then?” 

“Yes please! We also need to review the decor and see what chairs to order.” 

Pepper nods. 

“We need to ask Rhodey, he has opinions about design of those.” 

“Of course he does, he hates standing too long. We’ll send him some of our options.” 

She waves as she leaves the office. 

What Tony misses: 

Pepper pumps her fist as she leaves the office, nearly stumbles, and is quite glad that no security cameras were installed that day. 

What Pepper misses: 

Tony spins so hard in his office chair as a celebration that it topples over. 

Yeah, they’re made for each other. 

[willowbird]

Twinyards - Hello ( Daemons AU)

Okay so here is going to be my one and only entry for @twinyardsappreciationweek -- not because I didn't want to!! I just.. life happened and so I only actually got the first one done and then I went back and forth about posting it for several days because my anxiety is off the charts this week (huh I wonder why??)

So ANYWAY! This is my "Hellos", a first meeting between Aaron and Andrew in an AU that takes what I like about His Dark Materials and ignores what I've forgotten about it because I honestly haven't read the books in 15 years. Please forgive me for making up the rules as I go along. You do not need to be familiar with The Golden Compass/Northern Lights/His Dark Materials in order to understand or enjoy this AU because.. well, like I just said, I kinda kept the "soul animal" bit and decided to make up the rules for the rest as I went along. Feel free to ping me in messages or send me an ask if you have any questions.

------

“You’re biting your nails all the way down again.” Stella’s voice was quiet in Aaron’s ear. She was currently balanced on his shoulder where she could see the whole room while also being well out of trampling-range of larger daemons and their people.

“No I’m not,” he grumbled, but snatched his fingers away from his mouth because yes - he was. “And don’t hedgehogs have terrible eyesight? How would you even know?”

Stella huffed, and the small snap of her breath tickled his ear, making him twitch. “I don’t know where you heard that, but I can see just fine, thank you very much.”

“If you say so,” Aaron relented -- not because he actually believed her but because he was too distracted to engage in their usual bickering. There was nothing interesting about the room they were sitting in. It was empty of anyone besides him and his uncle and their daemons, neither of which were very large, and was painted a pale blue offset by a dark gray shallow carpet that made Aaron feel like he was sitting in the waiting room of a dentist’s office rather than a juvenile detention center. Still, despite the general blandness of their surroundings, Aaron’s mind was busy.

After all, today he was going to be meeting his brother. His long-lost brother. His long-lost twin brother.

Yeah, mindfuck right?

Twice already his uncle had shot him a look for the way his knee kept bouncing with jittery nerves, but it’s not like he could help it. It just wasn’t every day that you found out that you had a long-lost twin. That you got to meet that long-lost twin, especially after they’d initially told you to piss off.

Well, more or less.

Andrew’s letter back to him had been more like, Aaron, back the fuck off. Stay far the fuck away until you hear from me. I’m fucking serious. -- A.

No, really. That’s exactly what it said. Aaron had read it so many times that he’d memorized it, first because he couldn’t believe that he’d gotten a letter back, then because he couldn’t believe his brother was such an unrepentant asshole, and then because he couldn’t help but notice that they both wrote their lower-case ‘a’s the exact same way.

That was almost two months ago. Mom had absolutely freaked out and moved them across the damn country within a couple of weeks of the whole ‘Andrew Situation’ coming to light, and if it had been up to her Aaron definitely wouldn’t be here now. Except Uncle Luther, for all that he was a gigantic flaming dickhead, wasn’t quite as willing to let it go. Then, last week, he’d gotten a letter back from Andrew. All it had was an address to a juvenile detention center.

And so here he was, ready to meet his twin brother, and he felt so many things about it that he didn’t even know how he was really feeling.

“Luther Hemmick and Aaron Minyard?”

Aaron jumped at the voice and looked over at the stout man who had just entered the room. He wore a white coat like some kind of doctor and looked weirdly buff for also being old and balding.

Beside him, his uncle stood up, his pomeranian daemon trotting out from where she’d been curled under his chair. Aaron scooped Stella off his shoulder and returned her to her preferred nest inside the pocket of his hoodie as he joined his uncle. He tried to mimic his uncle’s superior sort of calm as he trailed after the two men, passing through the security door and down the narrow tiled hallway into what looked like some kind of common room.

Aaron had expected it to look like the rooms inmates talked to their families on tv, with two-way glass and phones so that you could talk to the person on the other side. He’d expected a lot of cold steel and white stone walls, with all the kids in matching gray jumpsuits or something.

Instead, they were in what looked like a giant living room. There were several couches and tables, a television with a few different video game systems, and a tall shelving unit filled with board games. There were teenagers lounging on the couches or at the tables, one or two of them apparently also visiting with family. Aaron didn’t spend all that much time scoping out the other kids, though, because on his first scan of the room his gaze settled on a blond boy sitting in the bay window with a fucking lion stretched out on the floor beside him, a living, breathing, tooth-filled barrier between him and the rest of the room.

Andrew.

Their little party had stopped just inside the door and Aaron was distantly aware of the warden or the principal or the doctor or whatever the fuck he was telling Uncle Luther about the facility. He couldn’t focus on them enough to actually retain the specifics though, not when he saw Andrew.

It was so… so fucking weird. He was there. Right fucking there. His brother, and they were identical. Okay, so, not completely identical. Andrew’s hair was longer than his own, and since the kids here were apparently allowed to wear street clothes he was wearing black jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt (which was neither a gray jumpsuit nor anything that Aaron would typically wear -- he preferred normal jeans and band t-shirts, thanks). There was also something… colder about him that Aaron didn’t know how to feel about but definitely seemed to match the two brief letters he’d gotten from him.

The lion lifted her head and looked right at him, fixing him with an eerie amber stare he felt both trapped and analyzed by. It was not comfortable and it took all of his willpower not to squirm. As it were, he ended up fully flinching when their guide called out a bit too loudly from a bit too close to him.

"Andrew! Come say hello, your family is here to see you."

Andrew, who up until this point had been reading a book like he hadn't known they were there at all, just… continued to read. He didn't look up, didn't even seem like he'd heard him at all.

The man sighed and gave them an apologetic look. "Sorry, he's, well. He's a bit antisocial."

"Hm." The disapproving sound from Uncle Luther had Aaron glancing over at him and he didn't really like the calculating look on his face. It would be utter bullshit if he finally got a brother only for his uncle to make it so he ended up getting shipped off to military school or something.

Rather than wait around for the adults to come up with some stupid way to attempt to make Andrew bow to their will, Aaron rubbed his thumb reassuringly over Stella's head where she was huddled in his pocket and strode forward with far more confidence than he actually felt. He stopped several feet in front of the lioness and tried not to be intimidated by her. Logically he knew that she wasn't a fully grown lion yet, that she was an adolescent to match her human's age, but Aaron had always been uneasy around daemons who had settled into big predators. Maybe it was because his own daemon was so small and he was protective of her -- or maybe it was some deeper instinct he wasn't ready or able to interpret yet. Either way, he ended up having to keep both hands in his pockets to hide their shaking. He couldn't steady both them and his voice at the same time, and he needed his voice to be steady.

"Hey,” he said -- and yes, his voice for that whole one word was very steady. Maybe even casual. Fuck yeah.

The lion, who had watched him throughout his entire approach, flicked her ears -- but he had no idea what emotion that was supposed to be.

For a moment, Aaron thought that was all he was going to get. Then he saw Andrew sigh and resolutely dog-ear the page he was on before closing the book and setting it down on the windowsill. He looked over at him, just with a flick of his eyes at first and then by turning his head. Aaron kept perfectly still and had the distinct impression he was being judged or evaluated somehow. It was really uncomfortable and also kind of annoying, but the hard stare of the other boy matched that of the lioness a bit too closely for Aaron to be willing to call him out on it just yet.

Instead, he waited, and he used the opportunity to look at his brother too. He wasn’t really looking for anything in particular, he just wanted to know him. He wanted to know what his life had been like and his favorite music. He wanted to know if he and his daemon had played the same sort of ‘what if’ games that he and Stella had growing up. He wanted to know if Andrew had always wished for a brother too, and if he’d grown up feeling like something was missing only to feel all the pieces click into place the second he found out that he had a twin. None of these were things he’d be able to learn just by looking at him, but looking was a start -- and it could tell him other things.

For one thing, he could tell that Andrew liked to read, right? There was the book he’d been reading -- it had been a thick one and he’d seemed really into reading it. He clearly didn’t like adults, since he’d ignored the big guy when he’d called out to him (though really, Aaron figured anyone in juvie probably didn’t like adults). He liked the color black..?

Look, it was a start.

Somehow, Aaron got the feeling that Andrew was able to read more on him than he was able to read on Andrew; or maybe that was just his own frustration at being able to pick out so little. Either way, it was irritating when Andrew nodded a few moments later like he’d made some sort of decision or something. Andrew looked past him then to where Uncle Luther was still speaking with the guy in charge and the casual coolness hardened into something icy with disdain.

Aaron frowned and looked over his shoulder to follow his gaze, but didn’t see anything weird. He looked back at Andrew and said, “So, I’m Aaron…”

Andrew looked at him again, his expression a blank mask. “Clearly.”

Aaron’s temper arrived unannounced and uninvited, but that wasn’t altogether that strange. “I thought you wanted me to come. Isn’t that why you sent the address? If you’re just going to be a big dick about it you could have saved us both the trouble.” He snapped the words out without repent, lifting his chin and glaring down at his brother before he remembered there was a lion between them with sharp teeth and man-shredding claws.

Neither Andrew nor his lioness daemon seemed offended by his little outburst, though. If anything, Andrew looked amused. His mouth quirked a little on the side, almost like a smile -- or like, maybe he had an itch or something.

“Where’s your daemon?” he asked then, familiar-but-not hazel eyes scanning the immediate area then glancing backward toward the window. Most buildings were designed for the ease of use for both humans and their daemons, but some larger daemons preferred to stay outside but close-by rather than squeezing into tighter quarters. Larger daemons also tended to have a larger range away from their person, as well. Aaron wasn’t sure how far he could get from Stella. He honestly didn’t like the idea of her not being physically on him most of the time, so he was glad she was small enough to do so.

Aaron cupped his hand in his pocket and she cuddled into it so he could pull her out.

Andrew looked at her, then to him. “She’s cute.”

From most people, that would probably be some kind of an insult, but Aaron got the very weird sense that Andrew was being genuine. It threw him off enough that he just blinked stupidly for a moment before saying, “Uh… thanks. Yeah, she is.”

Instead of responding, Andrew stood up and strode past him. Aaron quickly stepped out of the way as the lioness rose fluidly to move with him.

“And where do you think you’re going, Andrew?” the big guy who’d showed them in said with a false lightness.

“Outside.” He looked over his shoulder then, and Aaron realized a half a second before Andrew continued speaking that he was being invited along. “My brother and I have about fourteen years of catching up to do.”

Aaron’s heart did a traitorous little leap in his chest. He looked down at where he was still holding Stella up in an open palm. She gave him an encouraging nuzzle and Aaron hid a grin as he hurried to follow his brother. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen from here on out -- but he was suddenly sure that no matter what, he and Stella wouldn’t be alone anymore.

[fanficshiddles]

Caught in his web, Chapter 48

Chloe’s uneasiness after Loki taking her up the ass was soon gone by morning as Loki showered her in soft kisses and praise.

‘I love you so much, my darling Chloe. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?’ He purred, hugging her close and kissing her gently on the lips.

‘I love you too.’ She smiled against him.

He was very affectionate that morning. Whenever she tried to get out of bed, he would playfully pull her back down, tickling her and nibbling on her neck while growling. She loved that side of him, playful and sweet.

Eventually Loki allowed her to get up so she could go check on Bear. When she came back, Loki was just getting off the phone.

‘Who was that?’ She asked curiously, sitting on the edge of the bed.

‘It was Ben. Just asking what time our meeting is this afternoon.’ Loki groaned and stretched up, then rolled over onto his side and hooked an arm around her.

‘Ben’s nice. I like him and David.’ Chloe smiled and lay down, on Loki’s side.

‘Glad to hear you like my friends.’ He chuckled.

‘When use aren’t speaking about business, that is.’ She corrected.

Chloe’s phone pinged. Loki reached over and grabbed it off the bedside table and handed it to Chloe.

‘Thanks.’

���Amanda?’ Loki asked.

‘Yep. Asking if I want to go shopping later and to grab dinner… Did you have any plans?’ She looked to Loki.

‘Nope. You go and have fun with your friend. Just don’t stay out too late though and take Ralph with you, have him keep an eye.’ Loki said firmly, sitting up he kissed the top of her head.

‘Why the paranoia? Is there something wrong?’ Chloe frowned.

‘No... I just feel that your father has been awful quiet lately. I just want you to be safe, doll.’ He said softly, smoothing his hand down her back.

‘Ok.’ She nodded.

Loki didn’t want to tell her that the main reason being was he just had a bad feeling in general, so didn’t want to take any unnecessary risks. Especially with Chloe involved.

When Chloe went to get dressed, she went to the bathroom first. A certain part of her was a bit on the tender side… But she tried not to think about that. Loki did make her cum while fucking her up the ass, that was all she would think about. And she knew it would likely get a bit easier and more pleasurable for her the more it happened.

Or she hoped so, anyway.

-

When Chloe went to meet Amanda, Loki headed into his office with Ethan and Samuel. David was already there and so was Ben.

‘Are we allowed to speak business today?’ Ben teased, grinning.

‘Shut up.’ Loki hissed, sitting down behind his desk. ‘What have we got today then?’

‘We have an issue with one of the new girls in the Camden shop. Keeps trying to escape, tried to kill herself too last night. The owner of that shop doesn’t want to keep her because she’s more hassle than she’s worth.’ Ben said.

‘Hmm. Maybe we need to sell her on. Get in touch with our German friends, see if they’re looking to buy right now. I’m sure we can rustle up some more girls to make it worth their while of organising transport to collect. Check around all the shops, check if any of them want rid. Ben, can I leave that up to you to sort? Get some ready for Tuesday.’ Loki asked.

‘Sure thing.’ Ben nodded in agreement.

‘Can we trust them to give us a fair price for the girls? What if we send them over and get pennies worth?’ David said.

‘We can trust them. I know something that could tear them down, they won’t mess us around. We will get more than a fair price. Trust me.’ Loki grinned.

‘Alright, you’re the boss.’

‘Judging by last night, I think Chloe is the boss.’ Ben grinned.

Loki rolled his eyes at them.

‘What is she up to today anyway?’ Ben asked.

‘She’s out shopping with one of her friends. They’re going for dinner too, so I don’t have to rush home.’ Loki sighed.

‘Aww, is your girl not there to cook your dinner.’ Ben pouted, mocking him.

‘You’re walking on thin ice, Barnes.’ Loki growled, pointing at him.

-

Chloe had fun with Amanda. As usual going to town on Loki’s card, spending wayyy more than she probably should’ve. But after last night, Chloe was of the mind frame that if he wanted to do that kind of stuff with her, then he would take a hit on his bank balance in return. Besides, she knew if he was pissed off with how much she spent that she could just suck his cock to get him to forgive her. Not that he was ever angry with how much she spent, he always encouraged it, actually.

But she and her friends always had fun trying to push that limit more and more at every shopping trip.

They went for dinner at a nice Chinese buffet restaurant.

‘Why is Ralph loitering around outside?’ Amanda asked, slurping up some noodles.

‘I dunno. Loki had him come with me and keep an eye. He goes through weird phases where he wants eyes on me, in-case of my father or fuck knows what. Ralph is nice enough though. I feel for him sometimes though, having to follow me about like a dog. Maybe I should get him some takeaway?’

Amanda shrugged. ‘It’s Loki’s money anyway.’

After finishing, Chloe did get a takeaway box and took it out for Ralph. He was very appreciative. They then headed back to the car.

On the way there, they bumped into a familiar face.

‘Hello, darling.’ Ben smiled, stopping when he saw her.

‘Ben, hi! Not seen you in ages!’ Chloe teased, making him laugh.

Chloe noticed Amanda visibly swoon when she introduced her to Ben.

‘Are you ladies finished shopping for the day?’

‘Yeah, just heading home now.’ Chloe nodded.

‘I can give you a lift home, if you’d like? Since I’m heading to meet with Loki anyway.’ He offered.

‘I thought your meeting with him was earlier?’ Chloe asked.

‘It was, but I had to re-arrange.’ Ben smiled.

‘I have Ralph here to take me home, once we drop Amanda off.’

‘Well, it will save Ralph taking Amanda home then having to drop you off, then doubling back across the city to his own home.’ He turned his attention to Ralph. ‘Would that be easier for you, mate?’

‘It’s up to Chloe. I don’t mind at all, Sir.’ Ralph said politely.

‘Alright then. If you’re sure. It does make sense.’ Chloe smiled, she looked to Amanda. ‘That alright with you?’

‘Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow at college.’ Amanda gave Chloe a hug before getting into the car with Ralph.

Ben offered Chloe his arm, being gentlemanly. She accepted it and went along with him happily.

-

Loki was sitting on the sofa in the living room with a whiskey. He was tapping the glass as he checked his watch for what felt like the millionth time.

‘Where is she?’ She muttered to himself.

It was almost nine and he had thought Chloe would’ve been home by now.

He took out his phone and tried calling her, but it went straight to voicemail. He frowned at his phone. ‘Odd.’

Then he thought maybe she had just gone to the cinema and turned it off… So he tried calling Ralph instead.

‘Hi, boss. What’s up?’ Ralph asked cheerily.

‘Is Chloe in the cinema?’ Loki asked.

‘No… She should be home, why?’ Ralph asked, sounding slightly concerned.

‘What? What time did you drop her off?’ Loki stood up quickly, accidentally knocking his whiskey glass off the arm of the sofa in the process and it spilled over the carpet.

‘I… I didn’t. Last I saw her was around half six, in the car park at the shopping centre. She went with Ben, he said he was going to take her home as he had a meeting with you.’

Loki felt his blood run cold.

‘Get. Here. Now.’

[lovethestars1966]

STEREK FBI/FALSELY ACCUSED FIC

Chapter three is up from unforgettable!! The one where the Sheriff arrests and charges Derek with multiple murders.  Also I have a competition going on the person who can guess the murderer first!! First and second prize. It’s to pay for some ART by a very talented Tumblr artist who we all know and love. Just a bit of fun. Give it a go if you're interested and who knows. Maybe you’ll be the winner. Can’t hurt.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31853854/chapters/79642657#workskin

Excerpt: (Big one today...)

“So you guys work with Stiles?” Isaac asked conversationally as he led Allison and Jackson along the track to where the body had been discovered.

“For a few years now,” Allison answered, assuming she would be the only helpful person for Isaac today. Jackson was forthcoming but anything he had to say seemed less than useful. “You knew him from school?” She asked.

“Yeah, but if you’re from Beacon Hills you pretty much know everyone from school.”

Jackson speaks up, “was he just as annoying back then?”

“Probably more.” Isaac laughs genuinely and it causes Allison to giggle alongside him. “Didn’t stop me from being madly in love with him though.” he admits sadly.

Allison isn’t afraid to admit she stumbled then. Freezing right alongside Jackson at the sudden bombshell Isaac had just dropped. Isaac himself didn’t notice he was walking alone for a few moments but when he did he looked back to find them both standing there gobsmacked.

“Guess Stiles doesn’t talk about me much huh?” he asked just a little bit embarrassed. Allison made a small choking noise while Jackson threw his hands skyward in disbelief.

“Seriously, how did that little weasel get two guys to fall in love with him?” He asked but Isaac skilfully ignored him in favour of Allison.

“Did he know?” She queried.

“Whole town knew.” the deputy answered, shrugging his shoulders and continuing towards their intended destination, “Although I would hope Stiles knew anyway since we dated.”

Allison had just started walking again.

“What the fuck is happening?” Jackson whispered, mostly to himself.

“Wait,” Allison threw a hand out to stop Isaac once more. “I thought Derek was the first and only person Stiles ever dated.” Isaac nodded and hurried them along once more.

“Well yes and no,” He relented to her enquiring eyebrow, “Derek was certainly the first person he dated and I assume he thinks he’ll be Stiles last. Stiles and myself dated for a few months when he and Derek broke up.”

“Stiles and Derek never broke up.” The conflicted agent to Isaac’s right argued which caused the young cop himself to huff quietly with laughter.

“Guess Stiles doesn’t talk about anything from his past much.” he states, “I gotta tell you, that does make me feel a bit better.”

“I’m starting to feel like none of us really know Stiles.” Allison muttered.

“Yeah, well I just learnt two people have actually seen Stiles naked and enjoyed it so now I’m questioning everything I know.” Jackson countered inciting another round of laughter from Isaac.

“Now that I can’t claim,” he admitted, “me and Stiles never had sex, though not from a lack of trying on my part.”

“Surprisingly that didn’t help.” Jackson grumbled and then wheezed out an annoyed breath after having a hand thrown across his chest. “Problem?”

“Not at all, we've just arrived.”

It was like flicking a switch. Allison and Jackson went from confused, and a little sickened in Jackson case, to professional in the blink of an eye. From the corner of her eye she saw Isaac looking mildly impressed.

“You got the file?” Jackson asked Allison who was already nose deep in said paperwork.

“Looks like she was found underneath that tree over there,” she pointed towards a large imposing trunk, and after a quick inspection they discovered specks of remaining blood confirming the assumption.

“wide space,” Jackson noted out loud, “no clear trails, lots of obstacles.”

“What does that mean?” Isaac asked genuinely interested.

“Means whoever did it has to be an experienced hiker.” Allison answered as Jackson wondered off a little. “Probably have an intimate knowledge of the area.”

“A local?”

“Not necessarily, could be anyone who travels here often enough to learn the terrain. Although statistically speaking a local is more likely.” She mumbled examining a photograph.

“Any tire tracks?” Jackson yelled, still out of view, startling the young deputy.

“None that our technicians could find.” He answered anyway as the male agent came stumbling back into the clearing.

“How wide were your search parameters?” he questioned further.

“Had a team of about six go about two miles in all directions.”

“Only two miles?” Allison asked shocked at the same time Jackson screwed up his face.

“Only six people?”

“We’re a small town,” Isaac huffed a little offended, “that’s actually a lot for us,”

Allison had the moral conscience to at least look sheepish while Jackson merely shook his head in judgement.

“Two miles is still pretty far to drag a body.” Isaac moved on smoothly. “At least it is for any normal  human being.”

“Well you’re not wrong there, Kolchak.” Jackson retorted unforgivingly. “Maybe she was flown here on a magic carpet.” Isaac was becoming increasingly more put out the longer Jackson was allowed to talk and showed so in the narrowing of his eyes.  Allison was going to have to watch that. Her best friends fiancé had a way of pissing people off that was unmatched by others.

“Obscure references to seventies si-fi-crime shows aside,” the deputy forged on, “the point still remains, this guy must be ripped… if it is a guy? Do we know that?” He directed the last part towards her.

“I highly doubt it’s a woman.” She responded, and Isaac looked extremely grateful. “the facts don't add up.”

“Meaning?”

“Statistics show that ninety two percent of all female serial killers know their victims personally. While it is extremely likely, almost definite even, that the unsub in this case knew at least one or two of their victims, considering the fact that they were spread across three states and share extremely similar aesthetics, knowing all thirteen on a personal level is virtually impossible.” Allison explained calmly only for Jackson to tag on the end.

“Pair that with the fact that most female motives are to do with money, and that we just ruled out magic carpet to the dumpsite, seems a bit ridiculous to suggest women doesn't it?” he asked with no small amount of mockery.

“Boy are you going to be sorry if it does turn out to be a woman.” Isaac replied shaking his head in judgment. Jackson’s only response was to roll his eyes.

“Okay,” Allison spoke up completely ignoring the boys little competition, “So if he didn’t drive here, and he didn’t carry her here then how did she get here?” she pondered aloud. Jackson furrowed his own forehead in concentration.

“Maybe she was killed here?” Isaac offered only to receive a scoff from his favourite agent.

“She died from blood loss Deputy,” Allison stepped in before Jackson could mock, “There was nowhere near enough blood near here for it to have been the kill site.”

“I know how she died, I saw her,” Isaac began then paused, looking like he regretted his short tone. He tired again. “Look Doc Deaton told us she had ligature marks around her ankles.”

“she was hung upside down.” Allison confirmed.

“Yeah but I watched this documentary on like war zones and militant extremist and stuff. It said that sometimes they have to take their victims to remote places to, you know, ‘question them’. Often  they do it by cutting them and letting them bleed to death slowly hung upside down. To avoid attracting animals with the sent of blood they like, dig a hole, or place them over a bucket or something.”

By the time Isaac had finished he looked a little embarrassed, at his suggestion, but obviously couldn’t bring himself to tame the smirk he sent Jacksons way. Jackson however was just looking back with a seemingly bewildered look on his face.

“You are an idiot.” he stated and Isaac deflated a little. “You think this guy just so happened to watch the same documentary you did? You realise the chances of this are like five million to o-“

“Shut up Jackson!” Allison interrupted suddenly.

“What?”

“Shush, I think Isaac might be right,” she waved off his distress distractedly and Isaacs smile grew back tenfold. “Think about it. This guy is meticulous, methodical, dedicated. All things that can be easily explained with a military background.” She grinned back at the young officer before heading over to the tree and squatting down. She pulled out a glove from her pocket and began fitting it over her hand while continuing her thoughts aloud.

“What if he served overseas. He could have learnt everything he needed from the locals and simply applied it to some of his victims.”

She placed her covered hand to the ground where the body had been discovered and started to dig.

“Now considering he would’ve had to walk her here, tie her to the tree, kill her, get her down, and get the hell out of dodge, I doubt he had time to bring several buckets along with him and then carry them all the way back to wherever he came from without dropping any. No he is way to organised for that. However digging a hole would only require a small shovel. Military grade ones can be attached to a belt, which leaves only his faith that the local sheriffs department would never think to dig…”

Suddenly she stopped pulling up the dirt when she was almost elbow deep. The two boys froze in anticipation as she slowly lifted her gloved hand into view. There was dirt, soft and wet from the damp ground as well as small bits of leaf and bark but in-between all of soil, saturating the no longer white glove was deep red blood.

“To bad he didn’t know we would have a deputy as quick as you hey Isaac,” she spoke smugly looking over to him with an approving nod.

Isaac totally preened.

Jackson merely growled at being proven wrong.

“‘Pretend inferiority and encourage his arrogance’.” Isaac quotes smugly. She wasn’t sure is he was talking about Jackson or the unsub. Probably both. Either way it sounded familiar.

Allison scrunches her nose up. “What is that? Shakespeare?” She asks curiously. Isaac goes to answer but is cut off by Jackson.

“Call a CSI team already,” he spat before turning around and muttering, “If this backwater town even has one.”

[akinnie75]

White Hibernation

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 31k...lol

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Extreme Slow Burn, Fantasy

Summary: The tale of the Winter Bear is about a grizzly bear that’s the only bear in the entire world who doesn’t hibernate during winter. He’s considered strong for being able to fight sleep. However, being the only bear awake during winter gets lonely. So during every winter, he makes friends with children and takes their soul to be with him forever. And somewhere down the line, you get involved into the fable.

“Are you fucking kidding me, (Y/N)?!”

Your agent, Lee Suniya, screams from the top of her lungs on the other side of the call. You keep your phone at a safe distance from your ears. You sigh exasperatedly, standing in the center of the living of your cramped, one-bedroom apartment.

Despite Suniya’s aggressive scolding, you only focus on your apartment. It’s early in the morning, never realizing how blue your apartment is. It isn’t necessarily a bold blue, more so a faint blue, naturally peeking through your blinds due to the sunrise barely at its peak. All of your furniture—couch, coffee table, vase, lamp—is white, so it only makes the baby blue stand out more.

Maybe I should change my place up a little, you think to yourself.

However, your plans for redecorating your place are disrupted by the continuous rampage coming from Suniya. Her anger only worsens your annoyance toward her. “Did you not hear a single thing I said?! Is your head empty??”

“No, can you repeat everything?”

Suniya groans frustratedly then goes silent for a few seconds before returning. “Never mind. Did you at least look online?”

Your eyes move down to your laptop that’s sitting by the edge of the white, pristine coffee table. It’s on, and it’s an article called: ‘Winter Bear’: Profiting off of a Child’s Innocence. Underneath the title is the author, (Y/N), (L/N).

“Yea, just a few minutes ago.”

“So. You knew not to write that. But why did you go ahead and do it anyway?” Suniya tries very hard not to grind her teeth, but you can clearly hear it.

You take a seat on the couch right across from your laptop. You set your phone down, putting it on speaker as you scroll through the multitudes of angry comments. There are some that catch your eye, such as ‘How could you write garbage about my daughter’s favorite movie?’, ‘You didn’t even watch the movie so your opinion is fucking pointless without proper research’, and another one being, ‘Go die in a shithole, you fucking mood-killer’.

You’ve always heard about internet figures getting a lot of online flak these days, but your article exploded out of nowhere that you haven’t gotten the time to process the negative comments. Even your email is spammed with anonymous accounts calling you degrading terms.

But another reason why it doesn’t impact you as much as it should is because it was somewhat expected. Winter Bear is a beloved, rated-PG movie that people of all ages should enjoy, but your article made it very apparent that you detest it.

“Yea, I knew not to write it, but what’s the point of me making it my career as a writer when I can’t even share my own opinions?”

“You—” But before your agent can lash out any further, she catches herself. “You’re not a writer, you’re a journalist. Writers create from inspiration, journalists rephrase what they see. Are you seriously trying to give the publication a bad rep?”

“You’re not getting the point of the article. No one is. It’s a cash-grabbing movie using a dangerous folklore—”

“I get it, I get it. But where I’m coming from is that the publishing company has no time to be dealing with a bad image at this moment. They were just getting recognized, and you just had to blow it off like that.”

“That wasn’t my intention. Look, why are people even getting pissed off over one person’s opinion? They don’t have to read my shit if they don’t want to and go enjoy their half-assed children’s movie.”

It’s at this point where Suniya has completely given up on arguing with you. Both you and Suniya are stubborn to the core, and this is how you two clash often.

“It isn’t just about a bad public image for the company, but for you. You’ll have a hard time signing deals and publishing more articles.”

That comment was like a prick to your skin. There was something about that that ticked you off, more than what the internet is saying about you.

“What the hell is wrong with me sharing my thoughts? If these faceless assholes are allowed to leave comments on my article, then I can say and do whatever too!”

“(Y/N), calm down! Why are you getting upset?! Listen to me when I say this: I know where you’re coming from. I know that movie is a sensitive topic for you, but that still doesn’t mean that you should—”

“Don’t bring it up.”

The line goes silent for a while before she returns. “Alright, fine. On the bright side, this seems like a short-term consequence, so the most we can do is wait for this to die down. I gotta go, I’ll call you later.”

She hangs up, and you get the urge to throw your phone across the room. However, you don’t have the kind of money to break your phone and get a new one, so instead, you throw it against the couch pillow. It’s irritating when nobody understands you. If the general public weren’t sheeples, then it would be easier for you to explain your side. Not even Suniya truly knows where you’re coming from.

You go back to your laptop, your article receiving new comments by the second. You want to respond to them and tell them to go to hell. There are more controversial topics out there in the world, so why go to your article and attack you? You’ve already caused enough trouble for your agent, so it’s better to leave it alone.

You lay down on your couch when a sudden chill runs up your spine. You check the temperature on your phone, and it’s been getting colder lately with winter getting closer.  What sort of first-world struggles are those angry commentators going through to give them the right to downgrade you?

Regret begins to play with your head, suggesting that you should call Suniya back and apologize to her for exploding. You turn on your phone, seeing four contacts on your phone: your parents, Suniya, and your publication site’s office number. You press on Suniya’s number, letting the line ring before directing to voicemail.

With a sigh of disappointment, you get off of the couch with that feeling of regret going to eat you up for the rest of the day. You try to forget about it, pushing your mind to think about something else than to focus heavily on it. You repeat to yourself over and over that you need to eat breakfast.

You look through the fridge that’s filled with only microwavable food, some vegetables, soda, and that one vegan mandarin chicken pack that you promised to eat when you were still dieting. On the bottom shelf is leftover pizza from last night. You close the fridge then rummage through the white-painted cabinets. You hand maneuvers around the canned corn and beans, packaged dry pad-thai noodles, and shoving the Maruchan cup noodles away. You grab the rainbow, fruit-flavored cereal box, opening the top to check if there’s still some. You pop one into your mouth to check if it’s still in edible condition. Although a bit stale, you can eat it.

You couldn’t decide whether or not you wanted to eat leftover dinner or cereal for breakfast, so you ended up picking both. Rushing back to the fridge, you take out a slice of cold pizza and the half-gallon of milk, putting the pizza on a plate and into the microwave. It’s not the healthiest meal, but you’re not in the mood to be thinking about your weight.

As it warms up, you grab the remote from the living room, turning on the TV. You skip through channels with the press of a button until you get to a decent enough channel that’s playing a rerun of a sitcom show. It’s about a group of poor college graduates struggling to live in New York.

Your attention is taken away by your microwave beeping when it’s done reheating your pizza. You poke the pizza to make sure that the cheese has melted, then you take a bite of it. It doesn’t taste as fresh as when you first got it, but it still tastes savory.

“This...is...awesome!” A child’s voice shouts from the TV.

Dramatic drums and high-pitched violins play after the show goes on a commercial break. You turn around to see a trailer of a kids’ movie.

“Who...are you?” the child continues.

Each scene of the trailers lasts for a few seconds to keep the viewers’ short attention span engaged. On the screen is a young child who seems to be around eight or nine years old in a snowy forest. The child is on its knees, face-to-face with a shadowy monster before displaying itself as a fun, lovable grizzly bear licking the child’s face.

“I have to return home. Can you help me?”

“Come with us...on an epic journey,” A narrator voices over. “Filled with fun...”

The child and bear jump over rocks as they laugh.

“Adventure…”

The pair find an entirely undiscovered part of the forest, though it’s just a more expanded version of the same setting that it takes place in, just brighter lighting and more sunlight.

“And friendship.”

The next scene is when the child and the bear are cuddling together late at night to keep each other warm from the freezing temperature.

“Bears are supposed to be sleeping during winter, but you’re not,” the child ponders. “But...I’m glad that you’re awake. I don’t feel so lonely anymore.”

“Critics say ‘it’s tender’...‘entertaining’...‘everything my child has always wanted in a movie’.” The narrator continues as five yellow stars would be slapped onto a frame of an overview of the forest. “Winter Bear. Coming soon on December 20th.”

The next thing you know, you throw the pizza at the screen out of impulsive anger. The tomato sauce splatters all over the carpet, TV, and some on the coffee table. It instantly slips off the TV, landing and staining the carpet more. It felt good at that moment to lash out on the movie trailer, but not anymore after seeing the mess that you created. But once rational thinking sets in, you’re frustrated with yourself for what you’ve done. You hurriedly look for wipes then run to the TV to clean it.

As you wipe with tenacity, some uninvited memories seep in. You go back to when you were a child, holding the hand of a child whose face you can’t see, or at least, don’t want to see. The environment that surrounds you is a white forest, silence freezing every noise possible, just you and the person standing side-by-side.

You rest your forehead on the sauce-stained TV, sighing heavily as you try to forget what happened long ago. You turn to the fallen pizza, glaring at it with disdain as the red, bloody sauce soaks into what was once a white carpet that blended into the blue morning.

“He doesn’t help kids...he steals them.”

———

“Jesus Christ, (Y/N), you really need to start eating healthier food. Look at your stomach, I’m beginning to see a muffin top.” Suniya jokes as she playfully hits your stomach with a pepperoni sausage.

Suniya is walking ahead of you as you push the shopping cart. She decided to tag along with you to go grocery shopping, implying that this get-together is to make up for the argument that unfolded days prior to this.

“I would eat better if the healthier options were cheaper and tasted better.”

“Hey, there are healthy foods that are cheap too, you know. You just choose not to eat it. Plus, you’re not a kid anymore. Suck it up and eat gross shit for the sake of being in shape,” This is ironic coming from Suniya, since she isn’t in the best shape either. “Maybe you should get a gym membership and start working out. Who knows, maybe you’ll start attracting people.”

“Mm-hmm,” You faintly listen to her as you’re trying to decide on which graham cracker brand you want to buy. “Oh yea, which pizza brand do you think has the least amount of tomato sauce?”

Suniya sulks, a little annoyed that you aren’t listening to her, but this is typical for you to be like that with her. “I dunno. Figure it out yourself. Why?”

“Eh,” you shrug your shoulders. “The sauce is the messiest part of the pizza. Do you think I should start eating hot pockets?”

She raises an eyebrow at you. “I don’t fucking know. Pick both if it makes it easier.”

“No, but pizza is messy. I wanna know if hot pockets are not as messy with the sauce.”

“Why does it matter? Just use a napkin or don’t eat like a toddler!”

“...I’ll go with hot pockets.”

You push the cart ahead of Suniya as she stares at you with a look of disbelief. No matter how long you two have known each other, she will never understand how your brain is wired. She shakes her head, shrugging it off as one of your unusual habits again.

“By the way, your mother called me. She said you weren’t picking up the phone and she wanted to know if you’re doing alright.”

“I’m fine.”

“...Why don’t you just call her back and tell her that?”

“I have you to pass on my message.”

“You know…” her tone deepens. “Your mom wants to talk to you directly. She wants to know how you’re doing in your voice.”

“What difference will it make? She’ll just pretend that she’s worried about me but all she’s gonna do is yell at how I can’t take care of myself and I need a new job.”

She sighs. “But she’s still your mom. You can’t forget that she raised you.”

“I’ll call her later. I have some more articles to write and I don’t need the distraction.”

But she knew that you meant never, you just wanted to end the conversation. She looks through the aisles, clearly frustrated with your lack of keeping a conversation going.

“You know, you shouldn’t worry about work so much.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s all you ever think about. Don’t you have anything else that you’re passionate about? Like, I dunno, making friends, going out, finding a boyfriend?”

“Not really. I haven’t put much thought into any of those. They’re a waste of time and money.”

“(Y/N),” she puts her hand to her hips. “Your isolation is only going to drive you even more insane. You won’t have anyone to rely on, and you’re just going to be miserable.”

A vein protrudes from your forehead, but your expression remains stagnant. “But I have you, don’t I?”

She rolls her eyes. “You can’t just rely on me. I have a family to take care of. And you should also.”

Even though you behave as if you’re ignoring her, her words bleed into your brain. You know too well that you’re getting closer to the age of settling into a life of family-hood, but it isn’t Suniya who decides what you have to do with your life. Still, what she says makes your chest ache, the desire to deny her claims of your spiral to insanity, all the while being completely aware of her concerns.

Suniya’s phone rings, so she takes it out from her purse to see an unknown number on her screen. She accepts the call, putting it to her ear.

“Hello?”

A feminine voice can be heard from the other line. Other than a ‘hi’, you can’t make what she’s saying, and Suniya’s lack of expression doesn’t help either.

“Uhm...yes. She is with me.”

An eyebrow raises, your curiosity peaking. You stare at her, squinting your eyes. She does look at you, but she doesn’t say anything to fill in the blanks.

“Sure.”

She hands the phone to you. You’re confused, looking at the phone and wondering what to do with it. She nudges it to you, so you take it.

“Hello?”

“Hello? Is this (Y/N)?”

“Yes, who is this?”

“Hi, my name is Kim, and I’m calling because I read your article the other day.”

Assuming that this is an angry reader, you’re about to hang up the phone when Suniya raises her hands up, signaling for you not to. You silently sigh, putting the phone back to your ear.

“You did?”

“I did! And I absolutely loved it!”

“Oh, really?” But it takes a few seconds for you to let that sink in. “Wait, really??”

“Yes! I reread it hundreds of times, and everything you said accurately portrays exactly how I feel about the movie as well.”

You glance at Suniya, and she smiles, nodding to let you know that this isn’t a prank. You’re at a loss of words that there’s someone who genuinely enjoyed your article. No one’s ever reached out to give you compliments, so you don’t know what to say.

“Uhm, thank you.”

“It’s no big deal. I saw the feedback you received, and it seems like not a lot of people liked it. You see, I’m a mythologist. I study extensively on the Winter Bear folklore. Based on the information on your publication’s website, it doesn’t seem like you know anything about it, but you nailed every detail of the myth precisely.”

“...Yea.”

“What I wanted to talk about is that I would like you to help me with my research on the Winter Bear.”

You crease your eyebrows. “...Excuse me?”

“You see, even though I study myth, I have a strong feeling that this isn’t some mere local folklore. You seem to know a lot about it, and I would like to get to know you more. Perhaps even go to the town to investigate more about it.”

“No.” You’re about to hang up again.

“Wait, wait, wait!”

You give her a third chance, putting the phone back to your ear.

“I can compensate for your help in return! We can help each other. I’m trying to write a book and get it published before the Winter Bear movie comes out. I want to expose the real story behind, not the watered-down, kiddy version of it.”

She piques your interest. “Go on.”

“In return, I’ll help back up your article, I’ll even reference and credit you for aiding me in the research. As long as we’re able to complete the book before the release of the movie, then it’s going to be a hit. Imagine all the clicks you’re going to get in your article after my book is published. You’ll definitely make more than you can ever imagine with any ordinary article.”

“I’ve already received enough criticism as it is with just the trailer. How is a full-length movie and your book going to benefit me?”

“It’s going to be a bit...greedy of me to say, but you aren’t paid by the number of nice comments you get. You get it by how many people click on your online articles. If you ignore the negative comments, didn’t you notice that your pay got relatively higher than normal?”

As much as you don’t want to admit it, it’s true. “Yes.”

“That’s what I’m saying! That’s why we gotta get this finished before the movie. What do you say?”

You fall silent, and it makes Kim think that you actually hung up this time. Talking about the town where the tale of the Winter Bear brings up the memories again. You remember looking down at your small hands, pressing it on the snow as you knelt down. The stiffness in your hands from the cold perfectly describes how you’re feeling right now. It’s strange, when you look back to the time when you were there during winter, it was dead silent.

Your numb hands, stuck in the unforgiving snow, not a sound to comfort you in this recycling memory. It’s strange, it’s only your hands that are cold, not your knees, not your face, nothing. Are you ready to go to that place that you tried so hard to forget? Can you unveil those childhood memories?

You recall that toddler. It was only a split second, but every detail of her is vivid. That baby blue-striped dress, wearing a pink parka over it. Her tiny brown boots treading through the snow, being matted by the pure white. She turns around, and she resembles you a lot.. Her nose red and runny, yet the brimming smile on her face is the only sunlight of that gray memory. The silence is filled with her childish laughter that’s devoid of flaws, as she had yet to be tainted by the world.

“Annie.” Your past-self calls her.

“I’ll do it.”

“That’s great! Then I’ll send you an email and we can set up a day to go to the town. I look forward to working with you in the near future.”

“Yea.”

She hangs up.

“So, what did she say?”

“She wants to work with me.”

“Really?? That’s great! So, how is it going to work out?”

You aren’t entirely sure. You agreed to it on a whim without putting much thought on the consequences. Now you’re a little regretful for saying yes, especially since you don’t want anything to do with it, but since you dedicated an entire article on it, it must mean that a part of you wants to return. You don’t know how your brain works sometimes, like you go into autopilot and another force makes the decisions for you.

“We’re going to the town where that movie took inspiration from, Little Bare.”

———

At the bustling train station, Suniya helps push you through the tight crowd. You keep looking down at your phone, squinting at a picture that Kim took of herself. You’ve never met her in person and most of your conversations with her took place through phone calls and text messages. This will be the first time you’ll see her in person.

“Why the hell is the station so busy on a Tuesday?!” Suniya whines.

Standing right under the ‘Station E’ sign is Kim. She’s a lot shorter than you thought, standing at approximately 4’10”. Her black-framed glasses and messy bun along with her back slouching really gives the impression that she spends a lot of time sitting down, probably reading or researching, and you’re not far from your assumption. She’s focused on writing in her notebook, not paying attention to her surroundings whatsoever, not even caring when a salaryman bumped into her.

“Excuse me, are you Kim?”

She looks up and immediately closes her book. “Hello! You’re (Y/N), right?”

You nod.

She extends her hand out for a handshake, and you take it, taking notice of how sweaty they are. “It’s nice to finally meet you! Is that your agent?”

“Hello, I’m Suniya. We spoke on the phone before.”

“Right, I remember. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Suniya nods. “Yes. The train should be arriving soon, so do you mind if I talk to you for a bit, Miss Kim?”

“Sure.”

She pulls Kim aside, far enough from you. You know that she’s going to be talking about you, but you don’t pay too much attention to it.

“What is it that you need to talk to me about privately?”

“It’s about (Y/N).”

“Hm? What about her?”

Suniya looks at you, seeing as you’re looking down at your phone. “You see…since I’m not coming on this trip with you guys, can I request you to take care of her?”

Kim is a little taken aback, as you seemed like a fully grown adult who is capable of taking care of yourself. “Sure…”

“You see...she’s a bit...disconnected.”

She wrinkles her eyebrows. “What do you mean by that?”

“It’s hard to explain, but I think she has selective memory loss. She experienced some trauma that still affects her today—so much that she tends to block anything that stresses her out too much because that’s how she’s always dealt with her problems. So if she’s spacing out, then that’s why.”

From the distance, you blend well with the crowd, no different than a modern citizen focused on her phone. You don’t look lost—you look so sure of yourself like nothing disturbs you. Your outward appearance doesn’t make you sound like the description that Suniya gave.

“Selective as in, she can willingly forget things?”

She nods. “I don’t know what happened, but whatever she went through as a child, it must’ve been that bad that she doesn’t have any recollection of it. I don’t mean to scare you, but if she behaves abnormally, don’t be afraid to call me.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take good care of her. If I feel comfortable working with her, then I would’ve long since canceled our plans.” She smiles.

Still, Suniya is unsure. It feels wrong, talking about you in this way.

———

On the train, you and Kim are sitting across from each other. The slight bumps create a rhythmic sound as the train speeds to your destination, and there is a lack of conversation from other passengers with the only voice being the overhead of an automated woman alerting the passengers of their next stops. You sit by the window, watching the bushes pass by faster than the mountains from a distance. Kim is on her laptop, typing at the speed of light.

“I might be prying a bit too much, but there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask.”

“Hm?”

“Have you been to Little Bare before?”

You don’t respond—you don’t even look at her.

“Sorry, I stepped over the line. I was just curious because you seem to have more information than your typical person—”

“Yea, I went there once.”

She wasn’t expecting you to answer, so she stutters with her next line of words.

“My family and I went on a road trip during winter break. We got stuck in a blizzard and stayed at the inn there until it died down.”

“Oh, that’s very interesting!” She puts it down in her notebook. “Do you remember what you did there?”

“...Not really.” You lie.

“Oh…” She clears her throat to get rid of the uncomfortable atmosphere she created. “Well...it’s a good thing we’re going back. It’ll help you regain those memories again.”

“How did you know that I went there before?”

“I just assumed because you seem to know a little more about that folklore, not the watered-down version of it.”

“Yea.”

After that, neither of you say anything. This must be what Suniya was saying when she said that you don’t look like you’re paying attention, or you’re distracted by something else. She keeps herself busy by going back to her notebook.

———

At Little Bare, you and Kim exit the train. The wind blows against your hair, giving you the chills. You put your hands in your pocket while you stare at the town that haunts you. Every building is made out of wood, and the newer ones are built from bricks. The town is so small that you can see where it ends from the other side.

“It’s so cold! It’s supposed to have its first snow tonight, so it makes sense. But holy crap...I already can’t stand it.”

The train leaves, leaving you and Kim in a town nearly desolated. It lacks human contact, not a single person in sight. And there it is again—the dead silence. It was there before, and it hasn’t left. You wouldn’t describe it as nostalgia, but a boogeyman welcoming you back to your nightmare.

“Where do we even go?”

“I think down here.”

You walk down the staircase, hearing dead leaves being crushed beneath your feet. You enter through the main entrance of the town with a tall sign towering over you and Kim that reads: ‘Welcome to Little Bare’. You inspect the town, and the buildings made out of wood have turned dark brown after soaking in morning fog and rain. Resting your hand on the walls seems like it’s enough to give you splinters. It isn’t only the buildings that show after-signs of rain, but the streets as well. There are wet patches in the street, giving off the strong scent of wet black tar.

“Is...this the right place? It looks like a ghost town.”

You shake your head. “It’s exactly the same as I remembered.”

The general store is still there the last time you were here, one of the first buildings you’ll see when you enter this place. Directly across the street is the bar, just as empty as it was in the past during the day. The only difference is that everything has aged dramatically, those twenty years taking a  toll on the town.

“Where is everybody?”

You shrug your shoulders.

“There’s no reception here because of the high elevation, so I can’t pull up a map. There’s no physical map of this place either.”

You and Kim creep into the town more, with her peeking through the large glass windows of the general store. Her eyes light up when she sees someone standing by the front cash register. An elderly man, sitting on a chair with his back slouched, reading a newspaper.

“Oh, there’s somebody there,” you point at the man. “Let’s ask them for directions.”

You both move closer to the store, and once you’re close enough, the old man notices you two. When making eye contact with you two, Kim waves her hand as a means of greeting him. Rather than returning the greeting, the elderly man grabs a broomstick and walks out of the store, raising the broom over his head and jogging right toward you two.

“Get the hell outta here before I beat your asses myself!”

You and Kim step back, raising your hands to defend yourselves. She grabs onto your arm, and you cling onto her sleeve.

“Wait, wait, wait!” She shouts. “We’re just tourists!”

“I said get outta here! We don’t need no city people here to take what’s ours!”

“We’re not here to take anything!!”

“I said get out!!”

“What’s going on?!” An overweight woman runs out of the room. “Honey! What the fucking shit are you doing?!”

The man stops and turns around, seeing his wife marching after him. She slaps him on the back multiple times, so much that he drops the broom and waves his hands as a means of protection. After hitting him until he’s tame, the woman turns to you and Kim.

“I’m so sorry for my husband. We just had some unwanted guests come by a few days ago givin’ us some papers to sign thinkin’ we can’t read shit, so we’re all on guard,” she puts her hands to her hips. “The name’s Margaret, and this brainless man is Gerald. So, what brings two beautiful, young women here?”

You two look at each other, then back at the woman.

“Uhm..My name’s Kim. We’re here to research the myth of the Winter Bear.”

Upon bringing up the name, Margaret’s smile disappears. “Oh god...you really are just like them. So then, you girls better give me one good reason to welcome you guys in. Otherwise, I’m gonna have to kick your asses outta here.”

And just like that, someone who you two thought was civilized quickly turns sour. Knowing the amount of pain that she can enforce, you and Kim are faced with a ticking time bomb. Kim desperately flips through her notebooks, seeing if she can show any of her records to impress her.

“Uhm...wait, please, Mrs. Margaret! We don’t know who you’re talking about, but w-we have no intention of hurting anyone. I-if you look at my notes, you can tell that I’m genuinely interested in writing about this myth! Y-you see, I’m an author, and Miss (Y/N) is a journalist. We’re working together!”

But this doesn’t convince Margaret at all. She glares at you two, picking up the broom Gerald dropped. Kim freaks out more, seeing if she can find anything to offer.

“We have money! We can pay for anything!!”

That doesn’t work either. For a writer, she does a poor job of persuading. You try to think of anything to support Kim. You look around, biting your nail as sweat begins to form. You hate this—being put on the spot to problem-solve. It makes you dizzy, making you want to escape as soon as possible.

You squeeze your eyes shut, thinking of the first thing that comes to mind. “I’ve been here before!”

Margaret stares at you, raising an eyebrow. You got her attention, so you take this chance to breathe.

“I came here during winter...when I was a child.”

The fury burning underneath Margaret’s eyes turns into sympathy. She lowers the broomstick, tears forming in her eyes as if she reunited with a long lost relative. To your surprise, she wraps her arms around you, catching both you and Kim off guard.

“You poor girl.”

Kim is absolutely confused. She looks at you in hopes of getting an explanation, but your expression is blank. You’re overwhelmed with multiple emotions, coming all together at once unsure of how to express them at once. It’s like when all colors come together to make white. The only thing you can do is hug her back.

———

On the second floor of the general store, you and Kim are sitting in their almost run-down kitchen. The flowery wallpapers are peeling, brown and yellow stains running down until it hits the dusty floorboards, and age-old grease stains and black food chunks occupying the stove. There’s also a gigantic hole in the ceiling.

Margaret sets down a tray of hot chamomile tea on the table. “Sorry for our shitty first impression. Things have just been so heated lately that we’re stressed out of our minds.”

You and Kim take a cup, blowing it before drinking, but Kim drinks it without issue. You want to rest your arms on the table, but it’s so sticky that it makes you quiver just thinking about the last time it was ever cleaned.

“It’s okay! From the looks of it, you guys went through a lot,” Kim replies in an optimistic tone. “What happened?”

Margaret grabs a nearby chair and sits down, placing her elbow on the table without hesitation and running her hand through her gray, curly hair. “We got these big companies, Dismaland or whatever the fuck their name is, demanding that we turn our town into a tourist attraction for a  movie they’re making. You know, those family-friendly kinds. I dunno much ‘bout it since the mayor is the one who spoke to them, but we turned it down. Since then, they’ve been harassing us to sign their papers, so every young-lookin’ person dressed almost like you guys, we try kicking them out.”

You never realized how bad it’s gotten here. It was just as hostile as you remember in your memories, but a little worse since your parents were there to defend you.

“I swear to God, we’re nice people, but we gotta put up our guard if those bastards keep on coming back,” she sighs heavily. “But to be brutally honest, I really do think we need the money. As you can tell, our place is a shithole, and those big guys are willing to give us a small portion of the money.”

“But it isn’t really about the money, is it?” You ask.

She doesn’t respond immediately. Rather, she nods.

“You’re damn right. Those corporations don’t realize that they’re creating the biggest graveyard in history.”

Kim’s eyes widen, covering her mouth as she stares at you and Margaret. “No way...you mean to tell me…”

Margaret nods again. “This ‘Winter Bear’ ain’t no fable. It’s real.”

Kim places her hands flat on the tables. “Kids actually go missing?! I knew it! Everything was just too suspicious to be simply a story.”

“Yea, so even if we need the money to keep the town going, we ain’t gonna risk some kids’ lives for it.”

“Wait,” Kim pauses. “So then...if the disappearances of children are real, then what’s the actual cause of it? Don’t tell me it’s actually a bear.”

She shakes her head. “We don’t know either. All we know is that once the kids go into the forest, they don’t come back.”

Margaret glances at you, but you avoid her gaze. You act as if you have nothing to do with the conversation, sipping the tea.

“But that doesn’t make sense. Bears hibernate during winter and these disappearances happen around this time. Wouldn’t it make more sense that it’s some other animal or a person? Not a bear. And only winter?” Kim scratches her head.

“Not to sound like a smartass, but bears actually don’t hibernate.”

“What?? Really?”

“They sleep longer during the winter to save energy, but they wake up in case of danger or hunger. It is possible that you can still encounter a bear.”

“So then...do you think it’s possible that bears eat the children due to the lack of food?”

Margaret shrugs her shoulders. “That could be it, but let me ask you this: wouldn’t you think a bear would leave traces of the child? Clothes? Blood? Something? They disappear into thin air, almost like they never existed.”

This sends chills down Kim’s spine. She’s heard of this many times, but hearing it from an actual resident who has lived through children going missing is terrifying...but also intriguing.

“That means that we have to check the forest! Wait, Miss (Y/N), you said that you came here before. If kids go missing, then how did you survive?”

You stare at the wall, noticing how particularly yellow it is. Judging by how dirty the place is, it makes you wonder if the wallpaper was white but got stale as time went by. You’ve been very quiet, not bothering to put your input, and this concerns Margaret. She knew that Kim was stepping over her boundaries.

“...(Y/N)?” Kim asks. “Are you okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yea, I’m fine.”

“After your tea, I can show you young ladies where to go for the inn.”

Kim doesn’t read the atmosphere, not seeing how uncomfortable you’ve become. You clench onto the teacup, pinching the handle with all your might. You were confident when the thought of coming here sprung up, but being physically here is more demanding than you could’ve ever imagined.

———

Some time has gone by since the visit to Margaret’s place. She showed you two around the place, introducing you to some of the residents. Some of them you remember, but others you don’t. They don’t recognize you either, and Margaret is kind enough not to share your name with them. Once she’s finished showing you two around town, she eventually leads you two to the inn.

In the room, Kim is taking a shower while you sit by the edge of your bed. Despite struggling to find reception, the inn miraculously has some, although a bit slow. You have over fifty text messages from only two people—Suniya and your mother. Both of their messages are asking how you and Kim are doing. However, you turn off your phone, sighing as you toss it aside. You lay on your back, staring at the ceiling fan blanketed with dust. The fan itself looks like it’ll fall any second, seeing as it shakes even from the lightest movement.

You were naive to think that your problems will be solved if you stepped into Little Bare again. It’s more complicated than you expected, and now you want out. However, you’ve already promised to work with Kim; you can’t break the deal. You wish Suniya was here to yell at you, to tell you that you’ve made a dumb decision. That way, it would at least sound like she cares. Even though you’ve gotten to know Kim a little more, it still feels like you’ve stranded yourself on a foreign land.

And that image of the little girl, Annie, continuously appearing every time you close your eyes. Every corner of this town reminds you of her, like a ghost haunting you. You can sense her presence in the corner of the room, purposely watching you with hollow, blackened holes for eyes. She’s standing there in her pink parka and blue-striped dress, waiting for you to make your next move.

You groan, rubbing your eyes. You apply enough pressure that your eyes are being pushed back, rubbing so fast that your skin turns red. No matter how much you try to push the thoughts away, she just keeps coming back. Just as Kim exited the room, you get off the bed, taking your jacket and heading straight to the door.

“Where are you going? You look like you’re in a rush to start a mission.”

“It’s too small in here. I need some fresh air.”

“O-oh, okay...but please stay safe! Who knows what kinds of creeps are out there.”

“I will. Thanks.” You open the door and close it behind you.

———

You walk around, hands in the pockets of your jacket. There is no wind, but the drop in temperature stiffens your muscles. Just like in the morning, no one is occupying the streets. It’s just you, alone, with your bothersome thoughts. It manifests into a black aura, clinging onto the back of your head.

You thought about heading to Margaret’s place just to get things off of your chest, but you change your mind. She never directly stated it, but she knew who you were and what you went through. It was an odd moment that she sympathized with you without knowing exactly what had happened.

A flashy neon sign catches your attention. It’s in the shape of a brown beer bottle, pouring bubbles into a glass wine. It’s the bar that’s across the street of the general store called Bar & Grill. You’re not a drinker, but when your stress gets overwhelming, you tend to be persuaded by the lust of alcohol. Wanting to get rid of this black aura looming, you make the decision to enter the bar.

———

Your head is on the counter table, your arms around it to hide your red face. The inside of the place has very few people, only a few men who just came back from work, but even these men are barely whispering a word. The bartender stands on the other side of the counter, cleaning the glass cups with a white cloth.

“Hey, Miss. Do you have someone to take you home?”

You groan.

The bartender sighs. “You’re a young woman. Do you know how easy it is to be preyed on?”

“I can...handle myself,” you raise your head up, one eye open. “I practically raised myself! What makes you think I’m irresponsi...ble? You dunno me.” You slur your words.

The bartender sets the cup down, putting her hand on her hip and leaning on the counter. She isn’t sure if your red, watery eyes are because you drank so much or if you’re becoming emotional.

“You’re one of those researchers that came here earlier today, huh? Marge told me,” she shakes her head. “Jesus Christ, you city people really don’t know the limits to drinking.”

Next to you are five empty beer cups with the foam sliding down on the sides. You snicker at how much you drank, followed by a hiccup. “Wow, you’re right. I’m usually good at self-control. I know how to control my problems, but tonight is not one of those times.”

“It’s not that you’re good at controlling your problems. You’re just good at avoiding them. Marge told me about you, and no offense, but she thinks it’s fucking strange that you don’t look like you’re bothered that your sister was taken away by that monster. But I disagree. You’re pretending like it ever happened.”

“Excuse me? Who are you to assume how I feel??”

“Our place is practically off-coordinates with maps, but we still have those runaways who come to the bar every so often. You’re no different from them. So…”

“What?”

“Do you want to talk about it?” She crosses her arms. “I won’t tell anybody. We pretend that tonight never existed.”

You rummage your hand through your messy hair, calming down. It might be the toxication persuading you, but you’re not comfortable telling her.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Oh really?”

“I don’t want to, and it’s because I don’t know how to talk about it. If I can’t even talk to my mom about it, then why the hell do you think I can tell you? When I did want to bring Annie’s disappearance up, my mom would change the subject. It’s not only that, but it was like...she wanted to make me disappear too. And I know it’s because she fucking blames me for losing her, and seeing my face reminds her that she lost her baby. She always favored Annie anyway, so it wasn’t surprising that when she went missing, she...she said…”

You have a flashback of when you were a child during the aftermath. You and your parents returned safely home but without Annie. Your six-year-old mind thought that if you stared at Annie’s cradle in your parents’ bedroom every so often, she would magically return. But to your dismay, your efforts were in vain, and she never appeared.

One night, you woke up from a repeating nightmare of the day you lost her, so to soothe your racing heart, you jumped out of your bed and ran to their bedroom to look at her cradle, praying that she’s there. But rather than seeing your parents asleep, they’re sitting by the edge of the bed. Your mother is curled into a ball, sobbing profusely while your father makes attempts to comfort her with shallow pats on the back. In between her cries, you heard:

“Why couldn’t it have been (Y/N)?”

Returning from a trip to the past, taking your wallet out and paying with cash. You put on your coat and head straight to the exit.

“Where are you going?” The bartender asks.

“To sleep.”

You march right out the bar, massaging your head. After opening the doors, you step out and nearly tripped. For a second, your foggy mind thought you stepped through a hole, but it turns out to be snow. Some time has gone since you’ve been holed up in the bar that it already began snowing and it’s piled up.

You wobble to the empty forest, leaving a trace of your footprints. You despise being anywhere near the empty forest that surrounds Little Bare, but with alcohol, you think you’re invincible. You stand in front of the forest, being unable to see into the distance with the fog blocking your view. But amongst the fog, there is an apparition.

You squint your eyes, but they fail to make sense of what stands far away. But what you can make of the figure is that it’s small and crouched over. It’s alive, moving around but at the same time, staying in the same spot. It isn’t far, but it isn’t that close either.

Your mind immediately draws to that apparition being a bear. That bear that took everything away from you--your little sister, your chance at a childhood, a shot at a proper adult life, everything. Anger spurs within you, no longer having that rationality in your fragile mind. Within a spur of impulse, you pick up a rock the size of your hand, pulling it back and throwing directly toward the bear.

“FUCK YOU!” You shout from the top of your lungs.

Despite the influence of alcohol, you nailed the apparition right at its head. It falls to the ground, the sound of a ‘plop’ echoing. In that brief act of revenge, victory overcame you. You nearly raise your hands up in celebration, thinking that you defeated your arch-nemesis. But you manage to return to your senses, realizing that the apparition isn’t a figment of your imagination...but an actual person. Then your adrenaline fades away.

You trek through the thick snow, hopping through it until you enter the forest, whilst tripping and stumbling. You lean over the black figure, rubbing your eyes to make sure that what you’re seeing is real. Unable to stand straight, you fall backward and land on your bottom. After blinking, dread sets in when you realize that it’s a child.

“Oh my god...oh no...help...”

You try to stand up to look for help, but once you do, your vision turns black and you become light-headed. Nausea hits you, wrapping your hand around your stomach to control your gag reflexes. The alcohol, lack of food and water, combined with the high elevation comes altogether, making you fall down again.

As your eyelashes flutter, there’s a flashlight illuminating from the direction where you came from. Just when you’re about to close your eyes, the young boy’s body grows exponentially, growing to an exact size of a fully-grown adult right before you.

———

“Mom! Dad! I made a best friend!! He lives in a cave in the forest with the black trees...No! I’m not lying. He really does live there! He’s six years old like me...What? He’s real!! He doesn’t live with a mom and dad, but he said that he lives with kids like me and him too…

“And I told him that I would show him Annie, too...”

“Don’t…!” You sit up in an unfamiliar room in a cold sweat and heavy breathing.

You’re on a clean bed, made of pure white. On the walls, there are drawings of the human anatomy, motivational quotes plastered on a piece of paper with words such as ‘an apple a day keeps the doctor away’ and ‘be calm and exercise’.

Next the bed is Kim, startled by you suddenly waking up. “(Y/N)?! Are you okay??”

You look at your hand that’s trembling violently, but now that you’re conscious, the hangover hits you hard like a bullet. That massive headache and your stomach twisted in a knot. There’s a lump in your throat with the urge to throw up, but there’s nothing that’s coming out.

“Where...is this place?”

“It’s the clinic. The bartender found you unconscious with a man in the woods and thought that he was trying to take advantage of you.”

“A man…?”

You search through with what very little that you remember last night. You went to the bar to waste away, then you walked out. There was someone in the forest—a young boy. It was too dark to make sense of the boy’s details, but you just knew based on his shape that it was definitely a male.

“No...no…” You squeeze your eyes shut, enduring the pestering headache as you shake your head. “It...it was a boy. A kid.”

“What?” She raises an eyebrow. “There were no kids around, just the man. They’re interrogating him right now.”

You don’t recall a man being there. You must’ve been that fucked up to mistaken a man for a child. Even though it shouldn’t be an issue, it’s bothering you a lot. You remove the blanket, attempting to get out of bed before Kim stops you.

“What are you doing??”

“I have to see the man.”

“No! The doctor advised that you sit. You haven’t been eating, so you’re light-headed.”

“Let me see him. I need to.”

“Stop being crazy and just rest! They made food for you, so just eat and sleep.”

She puts her arms on you, but you gently push her hands away. “I will after I see him.”

You get out of bed, trying to stand but the light-headedness sets in. Your vision turns black briefly, causing you to stumble over your feet. Kim comes to the aid, helping you balance.

“See? I told you. Just rest.”

“No...I’m good. Do you know where this guy’s room is?”

Seeing how adamant you are about it, she decides to give in. “He’s in the room next to you.”

You head out of the room, walking slowly so that you don’t fall, then exiting the room. In the halls, there’s nobody, making it easier for you to head into the other room without any interruptions. You twist the doorknob, swinging it open to find the doctor and policeman, assuming by the uniforms that they’re wearing for their designated jobs. They turn to you, caught off-guard by your entrance.

The man that you’re looking for is on the bed, tilting his head when you two make eye contact. He has a long face, void of a smile. His black hair is frizzy and curly, strands of it flying all directions as if he just woke up. There are bandages wrapped around his head. After that short contact, he looks away, grabbing the doctor’s sleeve and using it to hide his face.

“Miss (Y/N)? What are you doing up?” The doctor asks.

Kim follows from behind.

“Miss Kim, I told you to watch over her.”

“I’m sorry...but she was persistent in seeing him.”

“Him…?”

Now that you have gotten your opportunity to meet with the man, you don’t know what to do. You stand still, at a loss of words when you meet the man that you ran into the forest. Perhaps you really did run into a man, not a child. You were under the influence, after all.

“Miss (Y/N),” the policeman starts. “Since you seem well enough to be standing, can I have a word with you?”

“Sure…”

———

“Amnesia?”

Returning back to your room, the policeman explains what they were discussing earlier. Kim had returned to the hotel room to give you and the police some privacy, and the doctor is staying with the man.

He sits with his hands folded on his lap, giving you a serious expression. “Yes. It’s a minor blunt-force trauma to the head, like something no bigger than a rock.”

“Oh my god…I was the one who hit him.”

“Did he try to assault you?”

You shake your head. “I did out of anger, but not at him. I was drunk and wasn’t thinking clearly.”

You fear that you’ll get in trouble, but you’re more fearful of the condition that you left the young man in. You weren’t expecting your throw to be that strong. The policeman scratches his beard, figuring out what to do in this situation.

“For all I know, you could be lying.”

You gulp.

“But hey, you could also be telling the truth. We don’t know until we check out the scene and hear his side. He doesn’t remember crap—not even his own name. For now, we’ll continue the investigation.”

You sigh in relief, but that still doesn’t deter the guilt from you. The man is a victim of your outlash, and it’s natural for you to want to make up for what you’ve done, even if it’s minor.

“Uhm...how is he…? The guy, I mean.”

“Other than the total amnesia, he’s in a healthy state. It’s strange, though. Other than a large coat, he was wearing a thin layer of clothes, but his body temperature wasn’t affected by the cold. We don’t have young people living here either, so it’s a mystery where he came from.”

He stands up from the chair, walking to the door.

“Well, it’s nice meeting you, Miss (Y/N). If you remember anything, then don’t be afraid to come to me. My name is Sheriff Tusk, and I’ll be in the police station often.”

“Okay, thank you.”

Sheriff Tusk walks out, leaving you alone. You fall back, resting your head on the pillow as you exhale. So much has happened in a short amount of time that it’s difficult to believe that all this actually happened. Even if you got away with being put to jail, you feel immensely guilty for hurting him.

———

The next day, you’ve been discharged from the hospital, suffering only from lack of nutrients and a hangover. Kim is in the room with you, helping you pack your things. Neither of you say much, focusing on putting your belongings away. You keep thinking about the man next-door, wondering how he’s doing. You keep stealing glances at Kim, wanting to ask her if you two can visit him but never gathering enough courage to actually ask her.

“Are you ready?” Kim asks as she puts the last folded shirt into your luggage.

“Hm? Oh, yea.”

You take the luggage from her and head to the door. Kim looks at her phone, once again, seeing that her phone has low reception. You pass by the man’s room, stopping in front of it and nearly causing Kim to bump into you.

“Whoa, what’s going on?”

Without a response, your eyes lay heavily on the door, struggling with the debate of whether or not you should enter.

“...(Y/N)...?”

Eventually, you make the final decision, approaching it and your hand grasping the doorknob. You pull the door open, making Kim confused, but not stopping you from continuing.

Inside the room, your peer at the bed, seeing the man sitting upward with a movable table that has a tray of food on top. He holds a cup of pudding in his hand, eating the chocolate-flavored dessert faster than the sound of light. He eats as though he hasn’t eaten in days, the pudding smearing on the corners of his lips.

It takes a moment for him to sense your presence, jolting and freezing when he sees you. You blink profusely, looking around the room nervously. You wanted to see him again, but you didn’t think about what, or if, you wanted to say something.

The man holds the end of his blanket and pulls it up.

You scratch the back of your neck, looking only at the corner of the room. “Hi, uh...I don’t think I’ve ever formally introduced myself. My name is (Y/N).”

You move closer and extend your hand out, but it makes the man flinch. Seeing that he doesn’t want to accept your hand, you pull it back.

“I don’t know if the doctor told you but...I’m the one who threw a rock at you, which is why you have that injury. I came in to say that I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t respond to you. Rather, he stares as if he’s fearful for his life, his pupils shaking from seeing you. You take one more step, wanting to get to know him, but it makes him flinch.

“I hope you—”

“S-stay away from me…” He whimpers.

His voice is deeper than any man’s voice, and yet his tone is like a scared child. Even the way he pronounced each syllable is with a lisp and not proper, as if he’s slurring. Despite his masculine outlook with his broad shoulders, tall height, and sharp eyes, underneath that shell, he’s fearful and small.

On the right side of you is the bathroom, the door open. You face the mirror, looking at your reflection. You see yourself as an ordinary person, but this man probably sees you as something, not someone, else in his reflection.

Kim puts her hand on your shoulder, pulling you back gently. “Miss (Y/N), I think it’s better to leave him alone.”

You know it’s better to do that, but there’s an urge within you, pushing you to stay. There’s an internal battle between you and yourself, the desire to stay and talk to him but leaving him alone to rest. Ultimately, you choose Kim’s suggestion.

You take a few steps back, your courage slowly being broken down with each step. “S-sorry…”

Breaking from a blanked trance, you abruptly pace out of the room and to the lobby. Kim is left confused, her head turning back and forth between you and the man.

“Sorry about bursting into your room. I pray for a healthy recovery.” Kim runs off to find you.

———

You stand just outside the small and aging medical building, Kim eventually catching up to you.

“Hey! What was up with that?”

No response.

“Miss (Y/N)...? Hello?”

“I...I don’t know.”

You couldn’t quite understand it either, unsure of what it was that made it okay to visit him. Despite his amnesia, it seems like he’s aware that you’re the one who injured him. With your behavior worrying her, Kim puts her hands on your shoulders, shaking you slightly.

“Do you know that guy?”

“No...no, not really.”

This is the first time you’ve met him, but there’s something about that man that you can’t put your finger on it. Perhaps it’s the guilt talking to your rationale or the urge to talk to somebody who’s close to your age. You just can’t let go of this.

“Well, you shouldn’t worry about it. The sheriff let you off, so you don’t have to take care of him.”

What Kim says floats over your head. You’re not doing this to appear like a law-abiding citizen. There’s this unconscious instinct that’s pulling you to him. It sounds unrealistic and dramatic, but there’s no other way you can describe this feeling. You turn around, staring at the medical building.

———

“What do you mean I can’t visit?”

In the main lobby, the doctor is sitting behind his desk, reading the newspaper. He lowers his glasses to give you a hollow glare. It’s the next day, and you decided to visit the man a second time but your visitation has been turned down by the doctor.

“Visiting without the patient’s permission, especially consistently, is harassment. I’ve been notified of what happened yesterday, so to protect each patient’s safety, I advise that you leave him alone.”

“But I’m not doing anything bad. I just want to talk to him.”

“I know you don’t have malicious intentions, but he’s still recovering from the head injury. Plus, the police are investigating, so it’s better if you leave him alone to avoid trouble.”

“I know, but…” You trail off.

“And you should be resting as well. You’re slightly anemic and are lacking some sugar in you. I’d say run to the store and buy some ice cream.”

Despite that, you stand still. Eating for your physical health’s sake isn’t your priority, but to see the man again. The desire to see him is just as haunting as seeing delusions of your little sister.

He raises an eyebrow, folding his newspaper up and leaning over his desk. “Why are you so persistent in talking to him? From as far as I can tell, you two don’t know each other.”

He’s asking a question that you don’t know the answer to. He waits for a response, but nothing. You seem hesitant, figuring out why it’s your first instinct to see him. You just have to, but if you tell him that, then he’ll most likely kick you out anyway for an absurd reason.

Seeing as you won’t say anything, he leans back, returning to his newspaper. “Well then, I’m sorry but without a proper reason, I can’t let you see him.”

“But…!”

He sighs, losing his patience with you. “I will call Sheriff Tusk if you don’t leave us alone.”

With the threat of police involvement, it pulls you back. You turn to the door, your shoulders raised up.

“Damn city people, thinking they can do whatever they want.” The doctor whispers.

You stop in your tracks. Normally, you don’t let insults like these get to you, but his tone made it seem like you’re scum. You’re not being stubborn because you think you’re superior to the rest of them, but he paints it that way.

With your eyes filled with red, you spin around, marching right back at the doctor. He notices right away, lowering the newspaper and preparing for an attack from you. You clench your fist, getting ready to let him know what’s been in your mind and conveying that through a punch.

But you purposely look away from him, looking at the corner of the room, your inner voice telling you to stop. When you get to his desk, you nearly slam your hand on it before the last nanosecond, pulling the force back and your fists making a soft landing.

You stare straight into the doctor’s shaking eyes. You exhale heavily, cooling down your temper. “Sorry. I just wanted to say that mold is growing in the corners. You should give it a look.”

He raises an eyebrow, questioning your mental state. Absolutely nothing made sense, not even to you. You turn around and pacing out of the building. He fixes his glasses, having no clue what just happened. He looks at the corner, seeing the black mold growing.

———

Outside of the medical building, you crouch into a fetal position, hiding your face in your knees. You don’t know what’s going on with you. You don’t have full control of your body, and it’s scaring you. One second, you’re oddly pulled toward that strange man, the next second, you let your anger take the driver's seat. You’re beginning to think that you belong in an insane asylum.

“Oh my, what in the devil’s name are you doing?” Margaret jogs to you.

She crouches over, rubbing your back. She takes your arm and helps you stand up. You’re confused, not knowing who’s touching you or where you’re at. You come back to your senses when you see Margaret’s face.

“Don’t be sitting in the snow like that, you crazy woman! Look at you, dressed like a whore out here in the cold and only wearing a thin layer of clothes!”

Calling you a ‘whore’ was a bit uncalled for, but you don’t get angry.

“Jesus Christ, that damn doc discharged you early. That scum of a doc probably let you go early because he’s too lazy to take care of you. C’mon girly, come to my place.”

She holds onto you, letting you lean on her to her place.

———

In her kitchen, Margaret sets a tray of cookies from a tin box in front of you with a warm cup of coffee. You sit with your knees close to your chest, curled up in a ball. You pick up a cookie, but the edges start crumbling. After a bite, it practically falls apart in your mouth and makes your throat dry. You take a sip of the coffee, clearly tasting the stale flavor of the grounded beans and sink water combined. You try not to make a bitter look, but you can’t help it.

“That boy has been stirring shit up even though he’s the one being holed up in that den. The whole town has been talking about him.”

She takes a seat next to you, putting sugar in her coffee and mixing it with a spoon. She takes a sip, smacking her lips after tasting her awful coffee calmly as if this taste is normal to her.

“But seeing a young man is definitely a breath of fresh air. Like with you and your Kimmy friend, it’s rare to see youngins here. Maybe he was with those contractors from the other day and got separated from them.”

It’s the most sensible explanation, but it doesn’t explain why he was alone in the forest. If he was a part of those businessmen, then he would’ve long since gone into the town and asked for help.

“What were you doing there, on your knees like you were prayin’?”

Once again, there’s that hesitation. She looks at you, ready for you to spill your heart out, but two decades of being a closed book, it feels way too strange to share. Just from your silence alone, she can tell that you’re not comfortable yet.

“You know that by clamming it into your brain ain’t gonna make it better. Even if you don’t tell me, I know exactly why you’re freaking out like your ass’s on fire.”

It’s a weird simile, but you take it.

“I know your struggle, but it ain’t like I understand it though. That’s why you gotta explain it.”

You hold the cup with your two hands, looking down at your reflection in the coffee.

“Don’t think that just because you’re all grown up now that I don’t remember what happened to you and Annie. I’ve lived here for thirty years, and every single kid who went missing here has been imprinted in my head. If there’s someone you want to talk to, don’t be afraid to talk. Or…” Margaret wipes imaginary dust off your shoulders, raising her eyebrows and smiling widely like a cartoon character. “I’m wrong and you crushin’ on that boy.”

“What the…? No.”

“Lady, don’t hide it. I saw how much you were beggin’ to see that young lad. I know young love when I see it.”

“It’s not even remotely close,” You don’t know how this turned romantic suddenly. “It’s normal for someone with decent morals to make sure that the person they harmed is okay.”

“Whatever you say, girly.”

It was so long ago, but now you remember. That time when you first came here, Margaret also told your parents to scram. Being no taller than your mother’s waist, she looked like a giant—a real-life monster scaring you to death. You can’t recall the exact words, but she must’ve been just as hostile as she was with you and Kim on the first day. But with the lens of an adult, now you know that those shouts were for concerns. She must’ve seen you and Annie and knew what ill fate was about to occur.

You look out the window and at the clinic. That man is still in his room, doing God knows what. “Margaret, don’t get the wrong impression, but how much are your flowers and candy?”

———

One of the good things about this clinic is that it’s open 24/7, but the doctor sleeps at his desk. You open the door carefully, making sure that you don’t make a noise. You keep your eye on the doctor, nervous that he’ll wake up. In your hands is a bouquet of flowers and on the other is a grocery bag. You move your hands as little as possible, holding two of the loudest objects in your arms. Luckily, you manage to pass by without waking him up, your feet lightly making its way up the stairs and to the man’s room.

As you sneak through the halls, you’re beginning to think of yourself as a creepy person. You really went through the lengths to see a man who you’ve harmed once and spoken to once. You’ve always been questioning your mental stability, but this is pushing it. A part of you wants you to run out, but you’ve already put yourself deep into this mess to leave.

You make it to his bedroom, a single light coming from behind the curtains. You knock on the door, and although you don’t get a response, you can hear the sheets fluttering. You put your hand on the doorknob, but then you pull back, the reality of the situation hitting you hard. Sighing heavily, you think it’s best to leave. At this rate, what you’re doing can get you into massive trouble.

Just as you turn around, you hear a loud bang in the man’s room, followed by the ringing echoes of metal objects dropping. You scrunch your shoulders up, nearly screaming at the sudden loudness. This prompts you to open the door and check what happened.

In the room, you look around, but only darkness wraps around you, taking seconds for your eyes to adjust to it. On the ground is the man, squirming around, entangled in the blanket. You’re unsure of what to do, placing the grocery bag and bouquet on the bed. You attempt to pull the sheets off of him, but his kicking and punching creates a struggle for both of you.

“Hey, you don’t need to move so much…!”

After a while, you’re able to pull it off. When he sees you, he freezes, and you as well. You move back, on your knees, but having no idea how to explain why you’re here, you scratch the back of your neck.

“So uhm...what were you doing on the floor?”

Why did you even ask that, you idiot?! You want to slap yourself, but you remain cool. The man stares at you, having no idea how to answer you. If anything, he seems more frightened than shocked to see you. You try to think of anything to reassure him that you’re not a threat.

You grab the bouquet from the bed and show it to him. “This is for you.”

He stares at it curiously, like he doesn’t know what it is. He reaches over to grab it, but he pulls his hand back.

“Wh...where did you get this?”

“...I got it from the store…?”

Since it’s winter, most of the flowers have been shipped from other areas, but Margaret’s shop didn’t have that many, so the bouquet is rather small. He eyes it in awe as if he’s never seen these before. He pulls a rose out, inspecting every angle. He bends the stem, then picks a petal off. He does it again, and again, and again until his lap is surrounded with red petals. What’s left of the rose is the crooked stem, and the thorns.

He sweeps the crimson petals into a pile, finding the smoothness of it satisfying, pinching them in between his thumb and index finger. He raises his head, giving you round, innocent eyes, pointing at himself. “Are these for me?”

“Y-yea…”

You almost forgot about the second half of the gift. You grab the grocery bag, spilling the content all over the floor. It’s different kinds of candy—chocolate bars, jawbreakers, and gummy worms.

“When I came here last time, you were eating that pudding to death, so I thought you’d like to have more sweets.” You don’t even know if he’s supposed to be consuming this much sugar, but you thought that you just had to buy him these.

You give him a watermelon-flavored hard candy. He tilts his head to the side, raising an eyebrow. That’s when he pops the candy into his mouth, not bothering to remove the wrapper.

“Ah! What are you doing?! Spit it out!” You sit up, pulling yourself closer to him.

Startled by your raised voice, he flinches at first, raising his arms up like you were about to hit him. He spits out the candy immediately, that childish curiosity disappearing. You move back, wondering if your loud tone scared him.

“You...you can’t eat it like that. You have to take off the wrapper first.”

You wait for him to pick up the wet candy, but he doesn’t. Not wanting to pick up the saliva-covered candy, you pick up a different one, showing it to him.

“Copy me.”

He picks up the one he spat out, pinching the wrinkled edges just like you. You pull it outward, the wrapper spinning and loosening. Once the twists come off, you unpeel the plastic, showing him a hardened sphere. You put in your mouth, letting the sweetness soak in your mouth.

“Like that.”

He does what you do, the candy twirling until it’s untwisted. He takes it out, eating it, and that’s when his eyes widen, astonished by how sweet it is.

“It’s sweeter than pudding!” He exclaims.

His enthusiasm for how sweet candy is is absolutely weird...yet endearing. For a man who’s around your age to behave like he’s experiencing sugar for the first time is abnormal, but it makes you feel...warm inside.

He tries to bite the candy, but he wasn’t expecting it to be this difficult and ends up hurting his jaw. “Ow…but it’s not soft like pudding.”

You hold back the urge to laugh. He definitely has been living under a rock if he didn’t know that he can’t bite it down so easily. That’s probably why the doctor gave him soft foods.

He reaches for another one, but you stop him. “What are you doing?”

“I want to eat another one.”

“I-I know it’s for you but...you should wait to have more in the morning. It’s not good for your teeth.”

He’s saddened, but he obeys. He folds his hand, but his eyes won’t leave the candy that you dropped everywhere. Unable to say no to his puppy eyes, you give him candy that’s easier to chew. Not letting him unwrap it himself, you open it for him.

“This is taffy. It’s strawberry flavor. I think you might like it.”

You give it to him, and lights sparkle behind his eyes. He eats it, savoring the taste. Seeing his smile makes you feel fuzzy, like seeing how genuinely happy he is for something as simple as getting candy makes you want to smile too.

“Uhm...I don’t know if I ever got your name,” but then you recall that he doesn’t remember his name. “Actually, wait...never mind.”

“...Taehyung.”

Taehyung? It sounds out of place for a town like Little Bare. He definitely isn’t from here, which only brings more mystery as to who he actually is. Other than that, it’s a unique name foreign to you.

“I’m...sorry for hitting you on the head. I wasn’t thinking straight and did something really stupid…”

“Yea, it really hurt,” he points out blatantly. “Just promise me that you won’t do it again. Not just to me, but to anybody else.”

It felt out of sorts that somebody as immature as Taehyung would give you a lecture, but you nod. “Promise.”

“Okay.” And just like that, he continues eating the taffy.

He scoots closer to you, losing the tensity in his muscles. Your determination to see him has finally died down, and now the timidness is entering your body. It’s impossible to distract yourself from him, watching him eat with absolute happiness, glad that you ignored the urge to run away and stayed.

You stare at the candies on the ground, the sensation of nostalgia overcoming you. You ate these when you were a child, and you ate these a lot with Annie, especially the watermelon-flavored candy. Since her disappearance, it was difficult for you to consume these again. But times have changed, and you bought these impulsively for Taehyung.

You bite the candy that’s in your mouth, breaking it into pieces to swallow, then putting the watermelon one in. Eating it was like going back in time, being that six-year-old, naive girl. You even ate this when you were here, fighting with Annie and not sharing one until your mother yelled at you to share. It’s such a trivial memory, but one that you remember vividly.

But this is the reason why you avoided anything relating to this town. It brings back memories that you tried so hard to bury deep in your head. You don’t want to be re-attached to emotions that you cut the strings to. You flutter your eyelashes, raising your head at the ceiling to stop the tears from falling. You can hear Annie’s laughter, holding her small, chubby hands as you two run through the snow. You exhale slowly, but it’s shaky, and your chest feels heavy.

“(Y/N)...are you okay?” Your trance is broken when you hear Taehyung’s voice.

You return to your senses, surprised that he remembers your name. “N-no...I’m just...I just haven’t...it’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

Taehyung tilts his head to the side, observing you fighting back the tears as you rub your eyes. With your eyes closed, he extends his hand out, reaching for your head, but when you open them back up, he pulls it back immediately.

———

“Oh no, Tae, what happened this time??”

“They were pushing me around again. They were throwing snowballs and telling me to go away. They kept telling me that they don’t play with immigrants. What does that mean?”

“...Ignore them. Tell me where they hit you.”

“My head...they kept aiming there.”

“A snowball is not supposed to hurt. Oh dear God...you’re bleeding again. Don’t tell me, did they put rocks in the snowballs again??”

“I don’t know...but it really hurts.”

“My poor child…”

“...Mom…”

“Yes?”

“...Am I an alien?”

“What? No! You’re Kim Taehyung, the strongest boy.”

“But...I’m skinnier than the rest of the kids. Plus...they keep saying that I have small eyes. I can never beat them at racing.”

“Taehyung. Do you know what’s the strongest forest animal?”

“What?”

“A bear. They’re huge and can beat up anything that stands in their way. But you know what else makes a bear strong? Not only physical strength, but their will power to stay alive too. You may be a cub right now, but when you grow up, you’re going to be the strongest bear in the entire world! You’re going to be so strong that you won’t need to hibernate like the rest of the grizzlies. That’s why, no matter what, Taehyung, you’ll always be my baby bear. When you’re in trouble, call for me and I’ll be there. I promise I won’t leave you. Now, let’s get you treated at the clicnic.”

———

“Are you insane??” Kim’s booming voice echoes across the inn. Kim’s hands are on her hips, like a mother scolding her child.

You’re by the edge of the bed, startled by her voice.

“Did you really think that the doctor wouldn’t see the things you left for that guy? The doctor told me everything this morning. What the hell were you thinking, sneaking into his room late at night??”

You sigh, unbuttoning your coat. “His name is Taehyung.”

“His name doesn’t matter. What matters is that you broke into his room. It’s already enough that you nearly got in trouble for injuring him, but this? This is pushing it!” She wants to say more, but letting her anger out on you won’t do anything to ease it.

The way she lectures you reminds you of Suniya, and it might be because Kim is beginning to understand what she meant when she said that you’re disconnected. Logic does not correlate with you and you do things erratically.

“But I didn’t hurt him this time. We had a little chat, and I gave him a few things.”

“But did it really have to be during the middle of the night?”

It didn’t, but there was no other way if the doctor was going to keep you away from him.

“Is it because you felt bad?”

“...I guess? He’s a really nice guy. You should talk to him. Everything he says is interesting.”

You don’t need her to tell you that what you did was wrong, but perhaps she’s doing it because of how nonchalant you are.

“Miss (Y/N)...you can’t forget about why we’re here. This isn’t a vacation, we’re working, and we both haven’t even jotted down a single word. Fooling around with a stranger—”

“Taehyung.”

“...Taehyung...Talking to him is going to waste more time. He’s not paying for our meals.”

You fold your hands on your lap, glaring at it. She can tell you feel a little guilty, so she tries figuring out how to talk to you without you becoming withdrawn. She takes a seat next to you, but makes a clear gap between you and her.

“Remember why we’re here. There’s a story that we have to tell, right? To warn people that this place isn’t meant to be lived in.”

You pick on your fingernails, fully aware of your purpose for being here...but seeing Taehyung was almost like a calling...That night, talking and eating candy on the floor, it felt like an eternity since you last spoke to someone that didn’t have anything to do with work. Even though you’ve never met him before, it felt like you’ve known him for years.

“Yea...yea, yea. I know.”

“If you know, then let's start our work today. We’ve gotten comfortable with this place, so let’s start by interviewing the townspeople.”

“Okay.”

———

Laying on his back is Taehyung, raising his arms up and staring at the candy wrapper. He covers the ceiling light with the wrapper, and he smiles while thinking of you.

“Taehyung, focus.” The doctor snaps his fingers.

Taehyung flinches and crunches the wrapper in his hand. Sitting on a stool next to the bed is the doctor with a clipboard.

“Answer my questions. Have you recollected any memories since your stay here?”

Taehyung shakes his head.

“Nothing?”

He nods.

“So is it really your name that you only remember?”

He nods again.

“And you have no idea where you’re from? Not a clue?”

He shrugs his shoulders. His lack of vocal response irritates the doctor slightly, but forcing Taehyung to answer won’t solve anything either.

“Well then, your health is improving exponentially, so you’ll be discharged soon. If you still can’t remember who you are, then we have to figure out where you can stay.”

The doctor gets up and leaves the room. Waiting in the hallway is Sheriff Tusk, his arms crossed. They look at each other, disappointed looks on their faces.

“Anything?” Tusk asks.

The doctor shakes his head. “I can’t get anything out of him. He’s got the mentally of a child stuck in a man’s body. Despite that, he’s recovering at a rapid pace, faster than an average person. His internal injuries are practically gone and all he has left is for his scar to go away. But...something did happen last night.”

“What?”

“That city chick, (Y/N), snuck in here.”

Sheriff Tusk throws his head back. “What in the hell…? For what?”

“To drop off some gifts for him.”

“...You don’t think she’s tryna coerce him? She is the reason why he’s here.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I have no clue. I’m not sure if you remember, but she’s the one with the missing sister.”

“Oh, that’s the girl? Why the hell is she back here for?”

“From what Margaret said, she and her friend are here to write a book.”

Sheriff Tusk sighs, running his hand through his beard. “Fucking shit...It’s already enough that those goddamn contractors keep coming back…”

“Well, technically the girls aren’t causing harm, so far. I can have Margaret keep an eye on them.”

“Alright...I’ll continue with the investigation. For now, make sure that that young man doesn’t leave. Once I get things together, I have a few questions for him too.”

The doctor nods and Tusk walks off. Once the sheriff walks out of the building, he turns around and returns to Taehyung’s room. But when he opens the door, he nearly has a heart attack from Taehyung, who stands inches away from the door.

“Jesus Christ…! What are you doing out of bed?!”

“I heard you say (Y/N). Is she here?”

He thought that he and the sheriff were speaking quietly, so he wasn’t expecting Taehyung to eavesdrop, but he forgot that the walls are thin. He’s worried that he might’ve heard what they said, but he simply stares at the doctor with curious, naive eyes.

“No, she isn’t.”

“Do you know when she’s coming back?”

“No idea. Just go to bed.”

The demand from the doctor saddens Taehyung. He drops his head, slugging his feet across the room and back to his bed. Just like what Tusk said, the doctor is concerned that you might’ve influenced him to ruin the investigation between you and him, but it seems like he really likes you.

He puts his hands in his pocket. “Taehyung, be truthful with me. Did (Y/N) say anything to you?”

Taehyung rummages through his pockets and shows the doctor a handful of plucked petals and candy wrappers. “She showed me how to eat candy and gave me flowers. When you eat it, you have to take off this cover-thingy…” He pinches the wrapper.

“Mm-hm, okay. Anything else?”

“...Hm...oh, she also seemed kind of sad.”

“She what?”

He tries copying what you did last night, raising his head up and staring at the ceiling. “She wasn’t crying like a baby, but her eyes got watery.”

It’s no surprise. When the doctor first saw you, you seemed like a broken person upon first glance. But he didn’t want to say anything, believing it might’ve been too sensitive of him.

“...I think she hates me.”

“Hm? What makes you think that?”

“You said that she told you that she threw a rock at me and was angry, then she looked sad when she was with me. I think I hurt her before I forgot my memories.” He has a sullen look on his face.

Pitiful is what the doctor would describe Taehyung. His way of thinking is too pure...too black and white. There’s no complexity in him, so if the doctor were to discharge him, he would have no chance of surviving out there.

He leans over and pats Taehyung on the back. “She said that it was an accident and is sorry. Forget about it.”

“...But I can’t...How do you make someone forgive you?”

“You can’t make someone forgive you. Even if you’re the one who made the mistake, it’s up to the other person if they can fully accept what you’ve done,” he pokes Taehyung’s forehead. “Sometimes you think that seeking forgiveness comes from others, but it’s also forgiving yourself with what you’ve done.”

It’s too confusing for Taehyung to grasp what he means.

“But that’s saying if you really did something awful to her. Do you know if you actually hurt her?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I...don’t know. I think I did, but I can’t remember. I just don’t want to see her sad.”

The doctor can see the clear self-frustration in Taehyung. He’s convinced that he wronged you, but the real challenge comes from how he did it. But seeing him battle with himself, it leaves the doctor with a lingering thought… “I know you told her not to see me...but is it okay if I see her again? I want to say sorry to her.”

The doctor hums, thinking about that request. “I can’t make promises, but we’ll see.”

“Okay, thank you!”

———

“Don’t bother seeing him again.”

“What?!”

Later that day, the doctor came to visit you and Kim at your inn to drop the request. “You trespassed into private property and caused mental harm to my patient. And don’t you think it’s smarter to leave him alone, especially when you’re being suspected of physically harming him?”

“…I know what this is about.” You clench your fists.

“Miss (Y/N), please don’t…”

“You’re just doing this to spite us! You hate people from the city, so you’re treating us like shit!”

“Miss (Y/N)!”

“That’s what you think. But you shouldn’t be talking to someone who took the time to nurse you back to health.”

“Don’t use that excuse to justify your shitty behavior!!”

With your face turning red, Kim gets up and pulls you back from the doctor. You jerk your hands off.

“I don’t need an excuse when we have people here taking advantage of my town and the people living here for money. If you want to make money somewhere else, then do that instead, not my home.” He walks away.

“WAIT! COME BACK HERE!!” You shout.

“Miss (Y/N), stop it!!” Kim aggressively pulls you back, shutting the door to prevent you from running out. “What the fuck is going on with you?!”

“Don’t you see it?? He’s just doing that because he fucking hates us! I’m not doing shit to Taehyung!!”

“But he’s a doctor, you should listen to him!”

“Degree or no degree, you don’t need a Ph.D to be a complete asshole.”

“I can tell! Talk about yourself!” She blurts out suddenly.

However, she covers her mouth, regretting immediately with what she said. Her words pierce your heart, but in all honesty, you needed that slap in the face. You weren’t looking at yourself to realize how much trouble you were causing for others.

“Miss (Y/N), I’m so sorry I…”

“No...it’s okay. I needed that.”

“...But please...stop lying that you’re fine. You make it very obvious that something's bothering you.”

You sigh. “...I hate feeling guilty. It’s like...it’s all I could think of, and I hate it. That’s probably why I really want to see him. I can’t let this go.”

That heaviness in your chest caused by guilt is unfathomably painful—so heavy that it’s suffocating. You’re aware of your obsessive nature, and you’d like to control it, but it’s been so deeply rooted into your blood that even if you try to get rid of it, it’s almost impossible. That’s why it’s easier to pretend that the problem never existed rather than solve it.

“I’m sorry, Kim, for dragging you into this.”

Unlike the other conversations that they had before, it truly feels like you’re fully present. Your mind isn’t floating somewhere else, but here.

“It’s okay...people are bound to have their slip-ups. Just...listen to the doctor. I don’t want us to be kicked out.”

You bite on your thumb, not exactly agreeing to Kim, but just as she said, you don’t want to be forced out of town either.

———

Late at night, Taehyung is laying in bed, staring out the window as he counts the number of stars, even though he can count as far as ten. After hitting ten, he restarts and would end up counting the same stars repeatedly.

He hears a knock at the door, then the door creaking open.

“Hello…? Taehyung, are you here?”

Your voice brings a smile to his face, straightening his back. “I’m here!”

“Shh…” You peer over the corner of the wall. “The doctor is asleep.”

“Oh, okay. Did the doctor tell you to visit me again?”

“Ah ha ha...yea.” You avert your eyes.

He hears the rustling of the grocery bag in your hands. Curious, he looks down. “What’s in there?”

He bounces up and down excitedly. You take out the components in the bag, showing him some fruits and drinks. He’s in awe at the different foods you display on the bed, making his mouth water.

“Peaches!”

He picks up the pink fuzzball, almost taking a bite out of it before you take it away from him. “Wait!”

He slumps his shoulders, pouting.

“I didn’t get the chance to clean it, then I’ll cut it for you.”

You rush to the bathroom, rinsing the fruit before returning. In the bag, you take out a small pocket knife, cutting the skin and slicing it into pieces. He stares at it with wide eyes in awe, impressed by your cutting skills, even though it’s nowhere near astonishing.

You give him a piece, and he takes it, shoving it into his mouth and overwhelmed by the sweetness. “This is better than candy.”

“It’s more refreshing, isn’t it? I thought that since last time I brought you some unhealthy snacks, I’d give you healthier options. Well...that’s what I thought...but I couldn’t help but buy something else.”

You wipe your hands down on your jeans, but the stickiness from the fruit juice remains. You take out a can of soda, showing it to him, but leaving him confused. He creases his eyebrows, scratching his chin as if he’s trying to interpret what he’s looking at.

“...This is cola. You’ve had them before, right?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never seen it.”

You open the can, the click of the carbonated fizz leaks out from inside. He’s so impressed by it, moving closer to the drink and smell the faint flavor of the cola.

You put it into his hand, and he hesitantly takes a sip. However, he gives a distasteful look, his face cringing from the strong fizziness of the drink. The face he makes makes it impossible for you not to laugh.

“It’s nasty…”

“I’m sure that if you keep drinking it, then you’ll love it for sure.”

He shakes his head, eating more peaches to get rid of the taste. Throughout the night, you show him the many different fruits, and he takes a bite with each one of them. No matter what it is, it will always astonish him, so keen to learn more.

Before you know it, hours have gone by, but it feels as though it’s only been minutes.

“How’s your head?” You ask.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore, but the doctor is always asking me if I remember anything,” he makes a raspberry noise with his lips, falling onto the pillow. “That’s all we talk about.”

“Well...do you remember anything?”

He looks around suspiciously as if he’s making sure that there’s nobody else in the room. He leans over as if he’s going to whisper a deep, dark secret. “Don’t tell anybody, but I do remember a few things.”

“You do?”

He nods. “I remember them in frames, like still pictures. It’s foggy, but there are parts that came back to me.”

“What do you remember?” You lean closer.

“There’s a lot of snow, and I was sitting on the ground. It was really...really cold. Also, everyone looked taller and angry.”

Although it’s great that he has some memories come back to him, they’re vague. His memory is no different than how some of the townspeople treat you.

“Anything else?”

“...Oh, yea. There’s also a large cave in the forest too. I went there a lot.”

The mention of a save makes you shudder, and that’s when a wave of memories return for you. You know exactly which cave he’s talking about...the one you and Annie went to. You hug yourself, trying to forget about it.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?”

You blink profusely, nodding your head. “Y-yea...I’m fine. Taehyung, I have to ask you something.”

“Hm?”

“Did you...by any chance, ever run into a bear? Or a child? At the cave?”

He stares at the ceiling, shaking his head. “No.”

“...Do you even know about the Winter Bear story?”

He shakes his head again.

“...It’s...about a grizzly bear who’s the only bear in the entire world that doesn’t sleep during winter. Because of that, he gets lonely, so he kidnaps kids.”

Your knee begins shaking violently, motioning up and down at rapid speed. Taehyung’s eyes are fixated on your anxious knee.

“He...took my little sister a long time ago, and...it’s my fault. He...paid attention to me, and I liked it. And truth be told, I loathed my sister as much as I loved her.”

His eyebrows crease, not quite knowing what ‘loathed’ means.

“My parents, especially my mom, loved her to death. I still don’t know why. It might be because she was the baby of the family or if it’s ‘cause she resembles my mom a lot, but she was always favored. And imagine the horror that unfolded when they heard that their favorite child went missing and their least favorite child is to be blamed for.” You laugh at yourself.

You will never forget the look of terror on your mother’s face when you returned with your clothes torn and freezing. It wasn’t because of the state that you were in, but the fact that you returned without Annie. She immediately went around town, asking for help, and everybody searched to no avail. Your mother never directly stated that it was your fault, but the way she looked at you like she was going to throw up.

You so desperately wanted to apologize to her, but each time you tried it, she would change the subject. If you were insistent in talking about it, she would become violent. Items being thrown to the floor, her blood-curdling screams, those wide, gaping eyes glaring down at you like you’re vermin. It made you afraid of your own mother. That’s why you tried to bury your memories, and when you did, you either emotionally detached yourself or changed your thoughts to something else, just like how your mother did.

But every time you did think about your sister, you felt that immense guilt gulping you up. You would become manic—wanting to do anything possible to seek forgiveness. You would return to that fragile, little girl who wanted her mother’s love.

Taehyung searches through his pockets, giving you one of the candies that you gave to him. Some of the wrappers fall out of his pocket as well, but he ignores them. You raise an eyebrow, but he nudges for you to take it. It’s the watermelon flavor candy.

“The candies are so sweet there’s no room for bitterness. That’s what I learned after eating so much of it.”

You take it from his hand, unwrapping it and putting it in your mouth. And just like what he said, your tongue is overflowing with the sweet, sweet watermelon. When you look up at Taehyung’s face, making proper eye contact with him for the first time, you notice something odd. His expression is blank, but tears are falling.

You let out a single laughter. “Why are you the one crying?”

He didn’t need to say anything for you to know that he sympathizes, maybe even empathizes, with you. It always felt like when you said something, you got attacked in return. Whether it be Suniya nagging at you, Kim criticizing your rash behavior, those faceless comments on your article bashing you, or even your mother neglecting you when you tried mending the relationship, it felt like everything you did was a mistake. No one wanted to listen to you, and it made you scared to be honest.

He brushes your bangs away to get a better look at your face. Even though you barely know him, it feels like he’s been your longtime friend. Without thinking, you drop yourself onto him, hiding your face in his chest. You hold him tightly, silently crying on his shirt. He’s confused, as stiff as a rock. He slowly sets his hands on your back like an amateur hugger. But you’re no different either since you’re just as awkward as he is.

“I’m...sorry.” He apologizes.

You laugh through the sobs. “Why are you apologizing? It’s not your fault.”

He doesn’t reply.

You forgot how sticky your hands are—Taehyung’s lint gets stuck on the palm of your hands. You rarely talk about yourself, but with Taehyung, it feels oddly comfortable around him. Just the look of his eyes alone, you knew that he wasn’t going to judge you. You didn’t need to get defensive because you felt safe.

“Thanks for listening to me.”

———

You peek through the crack of the door, waving at him one more time before leaving. He waves back, mouthing the words, ‘please come back soon’. You nod, gently closing the door. You sigh, slightly embarrassed for breaking down earlier. It’s not every day that you have a heart-to-heart conversation with someone, so it was new. But you can’t hide that little smirk on your face, like some of that weight on yours has been alleviated.

“Seems like no matter how many times I tell you, you think you’re superior to me.”

Startled, you nearly scream when you cover your mouth. You spin around and meet eyes with the doctor who seems unsurprised that you’re here.

“Uhm...I can explain.”

“No need. I give up on trying to convince you.”

“...Really?”

“I don’t know what you want from that kid, but it doesn’t seem like it’s bad. Just don’t pick on him.”

“I’m not.”

“Even if I did tell you to stop, you’ll just continue breaking in late at night.” He walks off.

That felt...a bit too easy. You thought that he was going to put up more of a fight, but it might be because of old age or because of your stubbornness, he was quick to throw in the towel. However, you aren’t complaining about this and if anything, plays in your favor.

———

For the next few days, you have been visiting Taehyung. You two wouldn’t do much but talk, and these conversations would go on for hours. For once, it didn’t feel like your life was single-colored, and his liveliness was contagious. You found yourself laughing and smiling a lot more than usual. But it isn’t as if you two are doing anything spectacular, just talking.

There are traits of him that you’ve noticed. He has these moments where he’s easy to read, like a child, but there are other times when he’ll blank out and you have no idea what’s in his mind. He’s always curious about the world and whenever there’s something that he doesn’t know, he would ask you. He doesn’t ask the doctor and always goes to you first.

“Taehyung?” You peek through the doors.

No reply. Instead, you hear the shower going off in the bathroom, so he must be taking a shower. You thought about waiting in the lobby, not wanting to scare him when he’s out of the shower, but you also think it’s better to stay. Even though you and the doctor came to terms, it’s still uncomfortable being in the same room as him since he hasn’t let go of his distaste for city people yet. Despite treating you horribly, the doctor isn’t harsh with Taehyung. There are times when he loses patience with him, but never gets angry.

And speaking of Taehyung, you’re startled when you hear a thud in the bathroom. Alerted, you rush to the room, twisting the doorknob and seeing him on the ground, completely wet. You get down on your knees, placing your hands on his shoulders.

“Oh, (Y/N), you’re here.”

“Are you okay?! What were you trying to do?”

“I tried turning on the water faucet, but I couldn’t turn the handle. I think I put too much strength and slipped after it turned on.”

“You should’ve asked the doctor for help,” you brush his hair. “Geez, your bandages are wet.”

“I do ask him, but he always looks like he’s annoyed at me every time I ask. I don’t wanna bother him anymore, so I wanted to try and do it myself.”

You groan. That damn doctor, only thinking for himself. “Don’t force yourself to do things especially since you’re still recovering. You should be resting instead.”

“...I’ve always done things by myself,” Taehyung slumps his shoulders. “Whenever I asked someone, they would always get angry.”

“Says who?”

“...Says everyone.”

‘Everyone’? You don’t know anyone other than you, Sheriff Tusk, and the doctor who visits him. Margaret would ask about him from you every so often, but you aren’t sure if she comes by either. Whatever it is, it’s bothering Taehyung, so much so that he’s so gloomy.

“Hey, you can always rely on me.”

He stares at you with wide eyes, but then he looks away, defeating himself before he gets the chance to smile. “But...you aren’t here all the time.”

“Well...good point,” you contemplate. “It’s not always possible, but just call my name and I’ll come to the rescue.”

It’s unrealistic. Obviously, you’re no superhero who can pop up to save the world with a single cry of help. You don’t want to give him hope and be disappointed when you don’t fulfill it. You feel like a parent—giving shallow promises just to shove his worries away, but at the same time, you’re being genuine.

“It’s a small town. I’m sure I can hear your voice. Besides, you were in trouble and I came in time to save you,” you pat him on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s change your clothes.”

You grab him from under his arm, helping him get up. You walk with him to his bed. Once he sits down, you look through the cabinets for towels,  finding a white hand cloth folded on the third shelf. You go back to him, using the cloth to massage it over his wet hair, but not too aggressive to affect his injury. Whenever you wipe too hard, Taehyung’s face would scrunch up and he would put his hand on your wrist.

“(Y/N), do you have a family?”

“Hm? What’s this all of a sudden?”

“I’m just curious about you.”

“I do. I have a mom and a dad and...that’s it.”

“...Do you live with them?”

You shake your head. “I live alone.”

“Why?”

“It’s because...my parents and I don’t get along. After Annie went missing, my parents got divorced and I lived with my mom for a while. But I couldn’t stand living with her anymore so after I graduated high school, I moved out and lived on my own.”

“What does divorce mean?”

“You don’t know what it means?”

He shakes his head. “I heard people use it, but I never really knew what it meant.”

“It’s when a married couple doesn’t want to be together anymore and decides to separate.”

“Oh…”

“What about you? Do you remember your family?”

“A little bit. I don’t remember my dad, but I do remember some things about my mom. I think my mom left my dad when I was very young, so I lived with her. But we ran away from home and moved to a new place. I don’t know how she looks, but she always took care of me. And she always had bruises, too. But I don’t remember why.”

Your ears perk up when he brings up the notion of bruises. It definitely stands out. It makes you a little worried about what sort of environment Taehyung lived in prior to losing his memories.

“She also dressed differently from you. Actually...everyone from my memories doesn’t dress like you or the doctor or the policeman.” He tries to recollect his memories, but it only frustrates him more.

“Okay, okay. Don’t give yourself a headache. Take your time to remember everything.”

You continue to dry his head until you think it’s done. But just as you were about to leave, Taehyung places his hands on your waist to stop you from leaving.

Your cheeks turn red. “Tae-Taehyung? What are you doing?”

“Thank you…(Y/N), for visiting me all the time. Even though I’m a good-for-nothing, you keep me company.”

You scoff. “No one called you a good-for-nothing. And if anyone did, just ignore them.”

Without thinking, you pat him on the head, running your fingers through his damp hair. He peeks one eye out to look at your face, but when you two make eye contact, he quickly hides back into your stomach.

“You won’t leave me? I don’t have to be alone anymore, right?”

There’s no reason for him to question you, and you know full well that that can’t be the case. After all, you’re here for work, not to make friends. However, you can’t bring yourself to break his heart. The way his voice deepened, his tone sounding so...solemn. Like he experienced trauma that he never wants to go through again.

“I promise.”

And with that vow, he raises his head up, grinning from ear to ear. His eyes become smaller from how wide his smile is.

“I really like you, (Y/N), you know that?”

Your heart nearly skips a beat, then your ears turn red. You fan your face, telling yourself not to misread what he said. “Me too. I’m glad we’re friends.”

He raises his head up, a little upset. “That’s not what I mean.”

“What?”

“I mean…never mind.”

———

“Count very slowly to twenty, okay honey?”

A younger version of Taehyung nods his head.

“Close your eyes and cover them with your hands. Don’t peek because if you do, then you’re cheating. People don’t like cheaters.”

He nods again. “Are we playing hide and seek like the kids?”

In the middle of the forest, the woman has Taehyung stand against a dead tree. The woman cups his cheek with her icy hands, brushing his curly bangs back as she looks like she’s trying to fight the urge to cry. Her lips are curled inward, and she opens her mouth to speak. But finding difficulty in letting one word out, she lets out a shaky sigh, averting her eyes from Taehyung.

He can’t keep his eyes off of the purple and green bruises on her frail arms. His mother is so thin that she doesn’t have any fat in her. She doesn't even have muscles—she’s skin and bones. Her eyes look sunken, like her eyes are shrinking. However, Taehyung didn’t think too much about her mother’s malnourishment because his body looks just like hers.

“Y-yes. You know that I love you, right?”

He nods for the third time.

“O...okay...if you love me,  th-then close your eyes and don’t peek. And remember: you’re a strong bear—so strong that you can withstand the winter cold.”

He covers his eyes with his hands, counting from one. His mother waves her hand in front of him. When he doesn’t jolt from her hand, she takes this chance to flee. He keeps counting even after being the only one in the forest.

“Eight...nine...ten...elevephen...twelve...fo...four...four…? Fiveteen...si-six…” He loses count, though he thought it was strange that his mother made him count to twenty even though he can barely count to ten. “...Mom?”

———

“I came from Korea.”

In the room, the sheriff is keeping record as Taehyung continues.

“I think...my mom and I immigrated here a long, long time ago. She said that we had a better chance of living here than there.”

“By ‘long time ago,’ can you give me a specific time frame?”

“...I can’t. It was too long that I don’t know.” 

While he tries to recall his past, he looks out the window and notices you with Kim. Unlike the stoic faces he made, his eyes light up, losing interest on the sheriff and onto you. Tusk glances over to you, clearly sensing the light-hearted vibe coming from Taehyung.

He walks over to the window, raising his eyebrow. “You and that girl have gotten quite close.”

“I like it when she’s here.”

“Even though she’s the reason why you’re here in the first place?”

His smile disappears. The doctor and policeman are always dragging him down with pessimism, so he doesn’t like it when they talk to him.

“She did hurt me, but she’s trying her best to make it up. What she did is wrong, but I forgive her.”

But Sheriff Tusk doesn’t seem convinced. He sighs, closing his notepad. “Well, this is definitely a step forward. It looks like I’ll let (Y/N) off the hook, and I’m confident that you didn’t harm her either that night. If there’s anything else that comes up, then update me whenever you can.”

“Okay.”

———

You glance through Taehyung’s window, only able to see the top of his head. You aren’t sure what he’s doing, but you pray that he’s resting. You’re so distracted that you weren’t watching where you were going and nearly tripped over a rock hidden in the snow.

“Be careful!”

“I’m okay…”

“What were you looking at?” Kim looks up at the direction you were staring at, then she understands. “Is it Taehyung?”

You nod.

“You two became fast friends. I would’ve never thought that it’d be possible.”

“I guess it is.”

“What do you guys even talk about? You’ll go visit and be gone for hours.���

“Anything, but he likes talking about food mainly. Though, he likes almost everything that I bring in.” You smile unconsciously.

Seeing your cheeks turn red, that’s when it hits Kim. She smirks, elbowing you on the arm. “I get it.”

“What?”

“You like him, don’t you?”

“H-huh? What? N...No! Not like that.”

Not this again. You already went through this with Margaret, and you don’t want another misconception...right? You’re actually embarrassed to hear that in contrast to how indifferent you were when Margaret brought it up.

This is the first for Kim to see you in this state. You always appeared calm and collected—making almost every decision without hesitation. Having your more vulnerable side present makes you seem more human.

“If you try to deny it in that tone, obviously I’m going  to assume the other way around! You two hit it off pretty well in the beginning…I mean...You two got along great. You were even begging to see him.”

“Th...that…!”

“Why are you getting so shy? You’re a grown woman, no need to hide how you feel. You act like this is your first crush.” She laughs.

But when you don’t laugh along with her, that’s when she knew that her joke was true.

“Wait...you’ve never liked someone before?! I don’t mean to judge but...of all your years, you’ve never once dated??? Not even had a crush on someone??”

“Yea, I’ve never liked anyone before, but why are you assuming that I like Taehyung…?”

“You make it more obvious than the sky being blue. I’m not gonna lie, Taehyung is pretty handsome. Maybe if he didn’t act childish then I would’ve probably liked him too.”

“It’s not that he’s childish...More like, he’s very curious. But as I  said, I don’t like him in that sort of way.”

“Mm-hmm, you can deny it all you want. It seems like Taehyung’s into you, too. Well...no doubt since you’re the only person to ever talk to him and is around his age.”

You like being around him, but you’re not sure if you like him in that sort of way. You two barely met a few weeks ago, so it’s too premature to be walking through romance territory. Despite it being a few weeks, it truly does feel like you two have known each other for a long time though.

“Well, don’t be in denial for too long. We don’t have much time here until the train comes back, and I don’t think you would want to leave with regrets.”

“I know.”

You don’t like thinking about that. It’ll dishearten him, as well as you, when the time comes. But eventually, you have to tell him that you’re going back home.

“...You said that you’d like him if he wasn’t childish...What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Why are you so curious? I meant what I said.”

“So you’re saying you have a chance with him?”

She’s confused, but it takes her a while before realizing your intentions. She elbows your ribcage, laughing. “You’re jealous!”

“I’m...I’m not! I’m just wondering…!”

Kim never realized how easy it is to read you at times. You and Kim continue your conversation until you two return to the inn. As you two walk off, Taehyung watches from his window.

———

“Who’s the lady with you?”

“Lady?”

You’re in the hospital room, peeling the skin of an apple with a knife. The snow has been getting heavier these days and it’s been like this for a while now. The sky has become cloudy, and there’s no sign of the sun anywhere.

“She was with you when you first came here, too.”

“Oh, Kim? We’re acquaintances. We barely know each other.”

“Really?”

“Yea.”

“Oh, okay. I thought you two were friends.”

“No, not really. She’s a nice woman though. Why do you ask?”

He keeps quiet, picking on his blanket as he sulks.

“I don’t have that many friends. The only other person that I talk to is my agent.”

His eyes widen.

“Hm? What’s wrong?”

“I thought you didn’t have anybody…”

You aren’t sure where he’s going with this. You set the sliced apples down on a plate, giving one to him to which he takes.

“I know a lot of people. It’s a part of my job as a journalist.”

“Are you...close with any of them?”

You’re confused with why he’s interested in your personal relationships. That’s when you get the hint, making you smile. “I’m not close with any of them.”

He sighs in relief and you laugh. Surprised by your laughter, he becomes embarrassed. “Wh-what??”

“Are you trying to make me feel bad about not having that many friends?”

He seems confused, so you realized that your initial assumption was wrong. His cheeks turn red, pouting. “That’s not it.”

You tilt your head, confused.

“I thought you didn’t have any friends or close family, so I was surprised with how close you were with that lady.”

“I know a lot of people, but it doesn’t mean that I’m close with them,” after Taehyung finishes one apple slice, you give him another. “Every relationship that I have with someone is different from the other. Like you and Kim for example. Kim is like my current work partner, and you’re…like a friend.”

It’s unusual to call somebody your friend. It was so easy for you to push others away, but Taehyung is the first person that you want to be close with. There was something about him that attracted you—like a fly buzzing toward a light.

And like an attractive light, Taehyung’s smile is just as bright. “I’m glad that I’m your friend.”

“Yea...me too.”

You thought about what Kim said, about how you feel about Taehyung. Of course, he’s a joy to be around—that bubbly yet curious personality of his is hard to dislike. It’s the sort of trait you don’t see too often in adults, especially in the big city, so it’s a breath of fresh air.

You peer over at the window, and it doesn’t seem like the weather is going to calm down. If anything, it looks like it’s going to get worse overnight. It’s so bad that you can’t even see a few feet in front of you.

“Oh no, it looks like there’s going to be a blizzard.”

The inn isn’t that far, and if anything, it won’t be an issue crossing over. But that isn’t the problem. Just the thought of going through a blizzard makes you feel...uncomfortable. Unwanted emotions return, the kind that darkens your mind.

Taehyung can sense the tension, so he thinks of something to bring you back. “Will you be okay?”

“Yea...I think so.”

But he isn’t convinced. Your face says it all, and you don’t want to go out there. He contemplates, then a light bulb turns on when an idea sparks.

“How about you stay here for the night?”

“Huh? No, I’m fine. It’s just snow, and this is a place for patients. I don’t want to take up space.”

“No one comes here and it gets a little lonely at night. If you go out tonight, you might get sick, then you’ll have to stay here for sure.”

“What are the chances that I get sick? Besides, the doctor might not—”

“I don’t mind.” The doctor shouts from the lobby.

His voice catches you by surprise. You didn’t think he could hear you two talk, so now it makes you conscious about how much he’s eavesdropped. The walls truly are thin here.

“See? Stay here tonight.” He reaches over, grabbing your hand.

His thumb strokes your knuckles and he gives you puppy eyes. You can’t say no to him when he gives you that look. You cover your mouth, hiding your burning cheeks as well.

“Okay...I’ll sleep in the room next door. Do you know if the doctor has any spare toothbrushes?”

“Yes, I do.” He shouts from the lobby again.

You sigh, wondering how much he’ll keep listening. “Thanks…”

———

You and Taehyung are brushing your teeths in the same bathroom. While you’re looking at yourself in the mirror, Taehyung is fixated on you. He’s trying to copy how you brush your teeth. Whenever you brush your right teeth, he does the same. When you move to your left, he does that as well. When you spit out the foam, he does the same.

After washing your face, you head to your room, and Taehyung follows. You look behind, stopping, and he stops as well. He’s holding a pillow and blanket, giving you the hint that he wants to sleep with you.

“What are you doing?” Even though you know, you still want to ask.

“I want to go to the same room. I don’t like sleeping alone.”

“But isn’t your room fine as it is?”

“Yea but...it doesn’t have you in there.”

You blush. “But sleeping in the same room is…”

He tilts his head, puzzled. With that innocent look on his face, you don’t want to say any further.

“Anyway, we shouldn’t sleep in the room.”

“But we stay in the same room during the day, and for a long time too. What’s wrong about sleeping in the same room?”

“It’s just…”

You know that he won’t do anything to you, but just the thought of sleeping in the same room is a bit too much. You truly are immature—being a woman in her mid-twenties and is still conscious about sleeping in a room with a man, not even the same bed.

“Is it because there’s only bed? You can sleep there and I can sleep on the couch! If you don’t like that, then I can move my bed into your room and—”

“That’s not it. We’re just going to be next door, so if you ever need anything, then just knock.”

He looks disappointed, but he doesn’t push further. “Okay…”

“Then...good night.”

“Good night.”

You walk to the room, and you look behind one more time, waving. He smiles and waves back. It’s saddening to see him look forward to sleeping in the same room as you, but you don’t want to push boundaries. You keep telling yourself that this decision is for the better.

———

The children are having a snowball fight. Just on the outskirts of the small  town, the kids build fortresses out of snow, using it as a shield to avoid the offense team. They’re running around and laughing, thankful for it to be snowing so they can play.

But approaching them with small steps is Taehyung, still as a child, his hands clasped to his thin jacket. He’s shaking violently, his skin so pale and frozen cold. His hair is a mess, dirt marks smeared all over his skin. His bottom lip trembles and has turned blue, but he still smiles.

His stench can be smelled from the distance, disrupting their fun. The smell of sweat is Taehyung’s signature scent, like a foreboding sign that he’s drawing near. He’s gotten skinnier since the last time he came to Little Bare. Bags hide underneath his eyes, his round cheeks absent.

“It’s Taehyung. Run away!”

The children hide behind the fortresses, and this hurts Taehyung. However, he remains determined and keeps smiling. “Can...I play with you guys?”

But his request isn’t heard. The children are occupied with making snowballs, combining it with the rocks on the ground to create spiky snowballs. They make enough to form a pile. They start throwing them at Taehyung, and although the first few miss, some hit his body.

He raises his hands up, using his hands to block his face. He runs off, but right at the last moment, one child is able to nail a snowball perfectly at the back of his head. THACK! Only he heard the impact to his head. It was hard enough that he fell forward, his face landing first.

The children laugh. “Hurry! Run before the hungry boy eats us!!”

They skip away to their homes. He loses consciousness for a few seconds before groaning. His head pulsates, touching where it hurts but immediately pulls his hand away because of how painful it is. Underneath his breath, he calls for his mother. He calls for her many times, but no matter how many times, she doesn’t return to rescue him.

Still, he wants to believe that his mother will return. She’ll return to him to make him a warm meal under a roof. He’ll finally get to eat candy like the rest of the kids, and maybe, just maybe, the kids will let him play with them. But for now, he has to prove that he’s strong in hopes that his mother will want him back.

As he gets up, limping as his desire to conform with the kids slowly turns into disgust. The animosity grows as strong as the dizziness that blurs his vision. He limps for what felt like hours until he returns to his new home—a large, ominous cave. The mouth of the cave is dark and hollow, like it can suck anyone of any size in.

He leans on the rocky walls, scratching his arm while dragging his body deeper into the darkness. He places his hand on the wall, leaving bloody handprints and smearing them as he moves. He falters, landing face first, which worsens the damage to the head. He turns his head to the left, and there’s a mysterious marking of a grizzly bear with strange symbols around it. It’s been there ever since he found the cave.

His vision blackens as his eyelids become heavier. One tear drops from his eye, apologizing to his mother that he couldn’t be as strong as she hoped for. Within two weeks of her disappearance, he’s giving up. Fighting became a chore, and now sleeping seems like a better option.

And thus, he closes his eyes for good. And the last thing he thought of was a wish. A wish that he could’ve made at least one friend.

But before he does, the drawing of the grizzly bear on the wall begins to glow.

———-

Taehyung gasps for air, clawing at his throat. He felt pressure on his chest, and it was so clustered that he could’ve sworn that he stopped breathing. He sits up, not realizing that he had been crying in his sleep. Looking down at his pillow, there’s a large puddle of tears and on his eyes as well.

He brings his knees closer to him, covering his ears as he squeezes his eyes shut. Stop it. I don’t want them anymore, he repeats in his head. His memories are terrifying, as if every time he goes back in the past, all it ever becomes is jumping straight into a nightmare. Waking up from an unwanted dream makes this damp room seem scarier, like there’s no one to protect him.

“(Y/N)...” You’re the first person to come to mind. But when he calls for your name, you’re not there. He recalls that you’re sleeping in the room next door.

He gets out of bed, grabbing his pillow and blanket as he walks out of the room. He drags his feet to your room, knocking on the door.

“(Y/N)? Are you asleep?”

There’s no response. He looks at both ends of the hallway, paranoid that some evil ghost is going to appear in either direction. He clutches onto the pillow tighter.

“(Y/N)?”

The calm snow has turned into a blizzard again, and the gales whistle in the cracks of the windows. The wind shakes violently against the window, almost like a robber trying to break in. It scares him more, so he lowers his head, praying that you heard him.

“(Y/N)? Are you there?”

It reminds him of his childhood after his mother left. After wandering in the forest for a long time, he found a cave. While he was excited to live there, nighttime was never his favorite. The large opening left him vulnerable to wild animals to potentially attack him. And standing at the center of the hall reminds him of that, that exposure of his body to the cold world, his life taken away at any second.

“I’m scared...so please…”

The doorknob twists, startling him. He gasps, holding his breath in, but he lets it go when it was you that opened it. You’re rubbing your eyes, yawning. “Taehyung? What are you doing up so late?”

He hastily enters your room, closing the door for you. “Is it okay if I sleep here?”

You don’t make an immediate response, which scares him that you’ll decline.

“I had a nightmare.”

It might be because you’re half-asleep, but it doesn’t take that much persuasion to let him sleep. “Alright...but sleep on the couch.”

“Okay!” He takes baby steps to the couch, placing his pillow by the arm rest and lays down. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Sleep tight.” And just like that, you go to bed.

Taehyung watches you sleep, seeing as you’ve already knocked out within seconds. He tries to fall asleep as well, but no matter how many times he tosses and turns, he can’t sleep. He’s gotten comfortable being the person he is now, happy to be here and seeing you every day, not the depressed child who was abandoned by everyone.

Some time has gone by, and he still can’t sleep. He’s staring at the ceiling, listening to you breathe steadily. The nightmare he had is as vivid as ever, experiencing the phantom pain that came with the head injury.

“(Y/N)? Are you still awake?” Without a response, it tells Taehyung that you’re not.

He sits up, staring at you. He gives it a few seconds before getting out of bed. He stands over your bed before making the rash decision to sleep next to you.

He lays down, his face just mere inches away from yours. Despite being so close, he finds your face mesmerizing. He’s so close that he can feel your breathing.

Taehyung wanted to lay next to you just to see how it’s like to sleep next to someone. It’s so comforting knowing that there’s someone next to him, like the paranoia has been swept away. The longer he stares at you, the redder his face turns. Even though it’s the middle of winter, his face feels hot. He sees you every day, but he can’t understand why he’s nervous now.

He wants to move closer, but your hand is in between your and his face. Rather than move it away, he bites his bottom lip in contemplation. He’s already crossing the line, so he’s afraid that you’ll push him away if he tries too much.

He puts his hand over yours, intertwining his fingers. Your hands are smaller than he thought, his palm already engulfing it. Not only that, but your hand is so warm. Your fingers jolt, which nearly made him pull his hand away. But after that, you’re still. He sighs in relief.

Laying next to him is you, the person who’s taken care of him since the beginning. Judging on his fragmented memories, you’re the first person to ever fight to be with him. It doesn’t matter the reason, he’s just happy that someone thinks that he’s worth it. But at the same time, you’re the person who got him into this mess. You’re the one who threw that rock, just like the other kids. You made his head bleed like how they did. And yet…

He forgives you.

He gently presses his forehead against your forehead. He wished you could stay with him forever so that he can never experience abandonment again. Taehyung is afraid that you’ll end up being like his mother—crying for your name but you never coming to his rescue.

———

The blizzard has died down, and the blaring sun blinds your eyes. You flutter your eyes open, using your arm to cover them from the light. You sit up, exhaling as your vision adjusts to the morning rays.

“Good morning!” Taehyung exclaims as he opens the windows.

You had forgotten that he slept here last night. Even though it’s early in the morning, Taehyung is as energetic as usual.

“Did you sleep well?” You rub your eyes.

“Better than ever.”

You barely remember what happened last night. You know you got up to open the door, but after that, it was a blur. Taehyung also looks chirpier than usual, though you don’t know why. It could be because he got what he wanted and sleep in the same room as you. Whatever the reason, you’re glad that he’s smiling.

As you get out of bed and into the bathroom to wash up, he glances at you. His smile is gone, contemplating some thoughts in his head.

In the bathroom, you splash water in your face after brushing your teeth. You look at yourself in the mirror and massage your cheeks, feeling a little conscious about making weird faces in your sleep. You hope that you didn’t make any noises during the night either.

You walk out of the door, startled when Taehyung turns out to be just by the entrance. “Whoa! Sorry, did I almost hit you?”

But he ignores your question, folding his hands together. “(Y/N), I was just wondering...but you live in the city, right?”

“Yea, I do.”

“...When are you leaving?”

“Uhm...we’ve been here for a pretty long time now, so I think I have a few days until our train comes to pick us up.”

He looks pained just hearing that. “Then...if it’s okay with you, can I show you something before you leave? I think I finally know who I am, at least, the more important parts of myself.”

“This...came out of nowhere, but I’m glad you remember everything. What do you want to show me?”

“It’s...where I used to live. It’s not that far from here.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You live near here? Sure, I don’t mind, but are you even allowed to go out?”

“...Yea. The doctor gave me permission to leave. Is it possible to go later tonight?”

Tonight? You’re unsure about it. It’s too dangerous, especially if you two stray too far away from the town. “Can’t we go tomorrow morning? It’ll be too dark if we go later.”

“I know, but I’m afraid that if we wait in the morning, then i’m going to forget. Please! It sounds crazy...a-and stupid, but I don’t want to sit around and wait anymore. There’s...something I want to confirm with myself. My memories are jumbled up, and I feel like if I go as soon as possible, then everything will make sense. If not, then can we at least go when the sun’s setting?”

You’re still hesitant about it. But seeing the desperation in his eyes, it’s apparent that with or without you, he’s going to go on his own. The tale of the Winter Bear is real, and if Taehyung is taken by it, then it’ll be blood on your hands. If not that, then a coyote can eat him too.

It’s that feeling of responsibility coming back again. If you say no and he’s in danger, you have to live with guilt. You can’t bear to lose another person because of your selfishness.

“O...okay, I’ll go with you. But only in the condition that we go back as soon as you show me.”

“Thank you so much!”

Even though he seemed happy earlier, there’s an air of seriousness. You thought it was strange that he lives near here, and despite Little Bare being so small, no one knew he had been nearby all this time. Although he’s vague about it, it does make you curious about him.

———

“You’re going out again?” Kim crosses her arms.

While back in the inn, you’re putting on your coat. The whole day has already gone by, and you’re going to meet Taehyung just like you planned. However, Kim isn't impressed by it.

“Is he even allowed to go out? It doesn’t seem like he completely recovered.”

You shrug your shoulders. “Apparently, the doctor said that it was okay.”

However, Kim doesn’t seem to agree with your answer. She creases her eyebrows, putting her index finger to her chin as if thinking.

“What?”

“You know...you’ve been seeing him a lot lately. More than actually doing work.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for not helping. Is there anything specific you wanted me to do?”

“No...it’s okay. I already have a basis for my book. Besides, if this was to help you reconcile with your past, then it’s alright.”

“...I feel horrible, like I didn’t help at all.”

She shakes her head. “No, you did a lot more than you think.”

You crease your eyebrows, not entirely sure what she means by that. Regardless, you’re glad that you somehow helped her, though not sure with what and how.

“But...I’m really curious. What relationship do you have with Taehyung? I know you told me that you just met him, but to be frank, whenever I do see you two talk, it seems like you guys have known each other for years.”

You don’t respond. This should be an easy answer, yet, you struggle.

“Miss Suniya told me about you. Mind if we chat for a little bit before you go?”

“Sure...” You sit down on a chair, then Kim sits by the edge of the bed. “What did she say about me?”

“She told me that you have selective memory loss.”

You’re not surprised that Suniya told her about your condition.

“I’m sure there are things that you do and don’t remember about this place, which is why it probably wasn’t so hard to convince you to come with me. The reason why I never bothered you to help me with the book is because I wanted to give you the chance to regain the repressed memories naturally.”

You don’t know where she’s going with this. “...Why is it important that I remember?”

“Well, I...this...you…” she stumbles with her words. “I just want to tell you that you’re a really special person.”

“...Where is this coming from?”

“I don’t think you understand how hard it was to get into contact with you,” She steps closer. “Miss (Y/N), you’re the only person who’s ever seen the Winter Bear and survived. You’re the reason why I became intrigued with this myth in the first place, but those blockbuster people paid news outlets to get rid of articles written about you to sell this myth as a friendly story, so I hit a dead end until I read your article and knew that I found you.”

Things are beginning to click, but you don’t like where this is going. “This...isn’t only about the myth...is it?”

“Do you not realize how big this story is going to be when I write about your encounter with the bear?! People are gonna go crazy over it, then people won’t look down on me for studying mythology. So that’s why, Miss (Y/N), I want to know your relationship with that Taehyung person. My instincts tell me that there’s more to him than what meets the eye.”

“So...you’re doing all this to make money?”

“Why else are we here?” Kim crosses her arms. “Miss (Y/N), don’t pretend to be a hero when we both know that you tagged along for the money, too.”

“This doesn’t feel right...and what about Taehyung?”

The misery that you went through only to be exploited for money is one thing, but for her to use Taehyung, it’s a different story. You’re so infuriated with her that everything in your vision turns red. You thought about punching her, but you manage to control yourself.

Kim gets on her knees, right before your feet. “Who cares about what he thinks? Miss (Y/N), we are writers trying to survive, aren’t we? No matter how many people compliment our writing abilities, words aren’t going to put food on the plate.”

“Stop it…”

You have a flashback of being a kid again, but in the hospital, being checked for any injuries. You didn’t show any physical pain, your mentality however…

“No, I don’t want to…”

“I need you to go back in the past and try. It doesn’t hurt to remember Annie, right?”

The image of your mother crouching over a chair, her face buried in her hands as she cries her heart out. You two are in the police station, waiting for any updates to Annie’s disappearance when a policeman broke the devastating news that they won’t continue the search.

“Don’t you want justice for your baby sister? So you need to come out and describe how the Winter Bear looks like.”

You cover your ears, fragments of your memories that you tried so hard to bury are returning to the surface. You remember the forest, knee-deep in the snow, meeting the friend you made during your stay here. You remember intertwining your pinky finger with your friend’s finger, promising that you’ll be friends forever. A childish vow that you wished you never committed. Because you also promised that friend that you’ll introduce Annie.

“So please, remember—”

“Stop it! I should’ve never come along with you!”

You get up from the chair, marching right for the door and slamming it behind you. Now standing on the other side of the door, you lean on it, rubbing your eyes as you grunt. You don’t want to remember; it’s better if they never come back. You like the way things are. You have nothing to worry about, you want to feel like there’s nothing to worry about. For now, you just want to see Taehyung.

———

At the front of the inn, Taehyung is already there, wearing a thick jacket but is still in his patient uniform. It’s already dark out, but you can see him clearly. When he sees you, he smiles and waves. However, you seem fazed with what Kim said. He’s quick to catch on to your discomfort, so he wraps his hands around yours. It catches you by surprise, but it goes away when he beams.

“How are you?”

“Great, how about you?”

“Good! It’s a lot colder than the last time I went outside.”

You chuckle. “Yea, you’ve been locked up in that hospital.”

“The hospital isn’t that bad. Anyway, are you ready?”

“Sure. How hard is it from here?”

“Not too far,” he takes you by the hand. “Come on, it’s already getting dark.”

He drags you to the direction of his supposed home. You look back at the inn, your senses finally returning and realizing that you’re really going to Taehyung’s residence late at night. You know you can trust him, but there’s something off about this that lingers in the back of your head. Yet, you don’t want to go back either, especially after hearing Kim’s real motive. You want to stay with Taehyung because you feel safer with him. Unlike many adults you’ve encountered, he’s transparent.

———

“Taehyung...are you sure you know where you’re going?”

As you two head deeper into the forest, the lights that came from the town disappear. You hold onto his hand tighter, fear crawling up your skin. It doesn’t help that it’s night either. In contrast to you, Taehyung is undisturbed.

“Yup, it’s beginning to look familiar.”

You regret choosing to go later in the day. If anything, you feel like a complete idiot for agreeing to go this late. It might be because you’re older and know the dangers of the world, but the woods seem far scarier compared to when you were a child.

“I don’t like this…! Let’s go back.”

After saying that, you hear a branch crack and it startles you. You let out a yelp, instinctively grabbing onto Taehyung’s arm. It doesn’t frighten him, so he’s clueless about why you’re afraid.

“If you’re scared, then hold on to me.”

Now conscious about your actions, you pull away, your cheeks flush with red. However, Taehyung doesn’t give you a chance to reconsider and drags you back into his arms. He wraps around your shoulders, squeezing you closer to his chest as he gives you a cheeky smile. You avert your eyes, sulking, but he’s not wrong about you being scared. You hold onto his shirt as you two continue walking.

To distract you from your fears, he changes the topic. “What kind of house do you live in?”

“Mine? Hm...well...it’s nothing fantastic. I live in a one-bedroom apartment.”

“That’s it?”

You nod. “It’s probably a little bigger than your private room back at the clinic.”

“Really?!”

“It’s small but so expensive...How about your home? I never got to ask if you live with anyone.” Though, judging by how no one that he knew came by to pick him up, he most likely lives alone.

“I live alone...and my home...is a little different from a normal home. It is big though.”

“Oh really? That must be cool. And to have it all for yourself too.”

“It was, and I thought it was cool because of how roomy it was...but it didn’t take for me to dislike it.”

“Oh...I’m surprised nobody has ever mentioned that you lived nearby...But speaking of your home, I was wondering, how long have you been living here?”

“Ever since I was a kid.”

“Really? And you’ve never ran into the Winter Bear?”

He shakes his head. “I rarely see bears in general.”

You thought it was strange how he’s lived here since he was a child and yet, he has never been kidnapped. If he’s lived here since he was young, then he would’ve been long gone.

“...My mother always told me that I’ll grow up to be strong. She said that I’ll be so strong that I won’t need to sleep like a bear who hibernates. And I believed her.”

Your ears perk up, listening to him attentively. You recall when Margaret that bears technically don’t hibernate.

“But a part of me thinks that it was mental training to prepare for when she abandoned me.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“That’s when I found a home to live. It was hard living by myself. Kids from Little Bare made fun of me for being a dirty boy and threw rocks at me until I ran away.”

“What are you talking about…? Little Bare doesn’t have any kids…”

“I hated living alone because it was scary, and all I wanted was a friend, or anybody who was willing to keep me company.”

What he’s saying is beginning to sound suspicious. You slowly pull yourself away from him, and it doesn’t seem like he minds.

“You know...travelling through my memories...I’ve always seen snow. Little Bare is always snowing no matter what year it is.”

“Taehyung...Little Bare doesn’t snow all the time. You know that...right?”

“Yea...so I wonder how the other seasons look like. It’s been so long. I learned that snow soaks in all sounds, which is why it’s always quiet during winter. I hate the silence more than anything. I want to know how it’s like to live where it’s filled with laughter.”

Taehyung draws near to his home, which is located in the middle of the forest. Horror slowly seeps under your skin when you start noticing how...familiar this place is. It was difficult to see the resemblance because of how dark it is, but once your eyes adjust to it, it looks as clear as your memories.

“So...it’s a little disheartening to hear that you’re leaving soon, (Y/N). I was hoping you could be here longer.”

You know this place all too well. Your legs begin to tremble, mortified that you have returned to the place that you desperately tried to keep buried in your subconscious. Standing before you is a large cave, towering over you and Taehyung. It’s like a gaping mouth ready to swallow anyone that comes in.

You fall backward, your hands buried in the freezing snow. You can’t get your eyes off of the cave as you hear haunting cries of children’s souls trickling from the depths of the hellhole; one of them sounds exactly like Annie.

Taehyung sees the pure terror in your eyes, crouching over as he tries to help you up. However, when he reaches his hand out, you finally remember exactly who Taehyung is. It makes sense why it was so easy for you to get along with him and why it felt like you’ve known him for so long. Back when you were six years old, this very person is the cursed Winter Bear—the monster who took Annie away.

You swipe his hand away, so shaken that no words are expressed. Your breathing becomes unstable, panic sets in, and your mind goes all sorts of directions. You think about one thing, but your mind heads the other way. You see Taehyung’s mouth moving, but you can’t hear it, only muffles. You can only hear a static ring fly across your ears. Even in the freezing temperatures, you’re sweating bullets.

“(Y/N)...I—”

“S-STAY AWAY!” You crawl backward, swinging your hand side to side to defend yourself from him.

It’s that innocent look in his eyes again that you vividly recall. He was able to transform into a bear and a kid, but when you first met him, he was a child just like you who found you playing in the snow by yourself. He lured you in with fictional affection, promising that he’ll never let you be neglected. It was all a ruse to lock you in that cave, just like the hundreds of souls in there, including your little sister’s.

He looks hurt, but he understands. Right as your memories are coming back to you, it’s returning to him as well. The screams of his victims, the scared look on their faces as they try to escape, and his vicious obsession of chasing after them. He pulls his hand back, knowing full well the crime that he committed twenty years ago. Just one glance at you and he knew that you won’t forgive him. So when you fled, he didn’t bother to chase after you.

All you hear from behind is the aching cries of a young man.

———

Keep running.

Don’t look back.

Focus in front of you.

You run through the forest without a light source. You don’t even know if it’s the right direction back to town, but anywhere is better than there. It was just like that time when you narrowly escaped Taehyung’s grasps. He was so occupied with your sister that he lost sight of you. Just like history repeating itself, you barely escaped his grasp.

You hate yourself for falling into his trap for a second time. Like a pied piper luring children, it was like his curse never uplifted. No wonder it didn’t take a lot for you to turn down the chance to come back to the town. You never learned from your mistakes, and that’s because you kept running away. You ran away so often that you even forgot his face.

Tears blur your vision, so you use your forearm to wipe them away. Despite the revelation, the resurgence of painful reminices, you feel awful for running away from Taehyung. You can’t forget the times spent with him, sharing personal stories of yourself and vice versa, and your friendship deepening. You promised him that he can rely on you, but you already broke it. But...how do you keep a promise with the monster who not only took your sister, but also took away your childhood?

You’re so focused on wiping the tears away that you bumped into someone and fell down. You scream in terror, kicking your feet as you try to get up.

“Hey! (Y/N), calm down!”

The person tries to grab your flailing legs, but you only kick harder. “STOP IT! LET GO! HELP!”

“(Y/N), (Y/N), it’s me! It’s me, relax!!” You feel two hands cupping your cheeks so you can look at the person. “It’s me, Suniya.”

You stop panicking. But your mind feels foggy, and for a moment, you’ve forgotten where you’re at.

“We work together. You’re a journalist, and I’m your agent. You’re twenty-six years old and live in the city. You graduated from the University of Redlands, and you’re the daughter of two parents who live miles away from you. You came here with a researcher to study the town called Little Bare. I came here because I was worried since I couldn’t contact you, then Miss Kim led me here.”

Your breathing becomes steady, regaining control of your unstable mind. It all comes back to you, and now that you got the chance to process what’s happened, your body becomes weak. The only thing you want to do now is cry. You hold onto Suniya, burying your face in her arms as you wail like a child.

Suniya is in shock, never seeing you cry this much before. She knew how much the Winter Bear affected you, but not to this extent, and it breaks her heart. She hugs you back, tears streaming down from her eyes as well.

“Suniya...I...lied. I lied to him again. I ran away. I got scared...I-I couldn’t think...then I left him there...An-Annie...I heard her cry. She was crying so much…”

“It’s okay...you’re safe. Don’t cry.” She hushes you.

She rocks you back and forth as you continue to sob. Your sentences are everywhere, but to question you in this state isn’t going to help. For now, what you need is to hide in somebody else’s arms until you’re okay.

———

“I shouldn’t never fucking agreed to this!” Suniya shouts.

In the room that you stayed in, Suniya is arguing with Kim. You’re sitting in the fetal position in the halls, your back against the wall. Even though the doors are closed, you can hear Yesosang’s voice as clear as day.

It’s the next morning, and you couldn’t sleep a wink. You and Suniya stayed in another room from the inn, not letting Kim know that you returned. The moment the sun rose, Suniya went straight to Kim’s room and has been arguing with her since.

“I thought I had to worry about you because (Y/N) can be a handful but...it was her that I should’ve been more concerned about. You're an absolute scum.”

“Please, try to understand from my viewpoint. Miss (Y/N)’s story needs to be heard—”

“‘Heard’? You mean use?! You don’t give a fuck about what she went through. I should’ve known better and not leave her in the hands of a stranger.”

“You didn’t need to word it that way. I was just trying to help her. I feel like, as a scholar in pursuit of knowledge, she has every right to remember every second of her memories.”

“Oh, don’t give me that scholar bullshit!! You’re no different than those Hollywood people exploited this damn town for money, and you’re not even different from us who are trying to live each day trying to make money. (Y/N)’s repressed memory is not your textbook!”

You can’t handle all this shouting anymore. You’re upset with yourself to make Suniya come all the way here, wasting her family time just to find you. Even though she blames Kim, you feel accountable for agreeing to go on this trip. Suniya can blame your mental instability all she wants, you’re still an adult, and you still said yes.

You wonder what Taehyung’s doing right now. Hopefully, he isn’t cold.

“We’re leaving tonight. You can stay stranded here for all I care. When we get back, we’re going to make sure that every publication doesn’t want to work with you,” Suniya stomps out of the room, taking you by the hand and dragging you with her. “Let’s go, (Y/N).”

As you two walk down the halls, she can sense the immense amount of guilt you’re carrying. She knows you’re blaming yourself, so she slows down and holds both of your hands.

“It’s not your fault, so stop worrying.”

You want to stop, but the guilt won’t leave. Once again, it’s suffocating thinking about what you could’ve done to prevent this from happening.

———

Outside, a gust of wind nearly blows Suniya off of her feet. She was only able to keep still because she was holding onto you. “Holy shit, is the weather always this bad??”

“It became like this recently.”

“Ugh…if this continues, then we might not be able to leave. Sorry, (Y/N).”

“It’s fine.”

Just as you two were returning to the inn, Magaret chases after you two. “Hold up just a minute! (Y/N), can I have a word with you?”

“Who are you?”

“It’s okay, Suniya. Margaret’s been taking care of me.”

She hugs you, almost making you break your back. “Oh dear god, I’m glad you’re alright. I heard that you went off into the forest with that young man. He didn’t touch you, did he?”

You shake your head.

“Thank god. Sheriff Tusk is currently looking for him and will make sure that his ass goes to prison.”

“Wait, what?”

“You can never fully trust men. They’re deceitful and only strive for one thing, and that’s—”

“Is there something important you wanted to say to (Y/N)? We’re in a bit of a hurry to leave.” Suniya saw how disturbed you became when she mentioned Taehyung.

Margaret scoffs. “In this weather? Lady, you’re gonna die if you go today.”

“Why?”

“It’s gonna be ‘nother blizzard happenin’ tonight, and it’s crazier than it’s ever been before. You outta stay one more night.”

But Suniya doesn’t have the patience to deal with another person. “Look, I know you guys don’t have that many outsiders, but I know when locals are trying to make tourists cough out as much money as possible. We’ll be taking our leave.”

What Margaret said about Sheriff Tusk going out to look for Taehyung, so it worries you that he’ll get in trouble. But knowing how quickly Suniya wants to leave this place, she won’t want to stay.

“Wait...I think you should listen to her…”

“You too??”

“The weather here can be pretty bad. We should stay one more night.”

“...Will you be fine…?”

You nod. “I’m not a kid.”

But she seems hesitant, but seeing as the weather is getting worse, it might be for the best. Besides, you’ve been here longer than she has, so she has no choice but to abide by your request. “Okay…”

Margaret’s eyes haven’t left you, clearly showing how worried she is for you. However, she doesn’t say anything as she knows you might want to brush it off. “Yea...it might be for the better.”

———

Later that night in the inn, you’re laying in bed while Suniya is taking a shower. And just like what Margaret said, the town is going through yet another blizzard. This time, it’s heavier compared to the first one. You’re still thinking about everything that happened the night before. You don’t know how you were unable to recognize Taehyung since the beginning.

Did you really repress your memories that much that you forgot his face? The cries from the children’s souls are still imprinted in your mind. Perhaps in the back of your head, you had a hutch that it was him, but his purity made you doubt yourself. Maybe you were keen on going back to him to confirm that it isn’t him from twenty years ago that you ignored the red flags.

Despite the tragedy that he caused in your family, you can’t forget the times spent together. Exposed to the reality of the world made you disregard that there are kind people like Taehyung. He’s caring...but you keep going back to when he lured you and Annie to his cave. It’s conflicting, like two sides of him that you know are real, yet they challenge one another. On one side, he’s your antagonist, but on the other side, he’s like a savior.

There’s a knocking at the door, alerting you. You get up, wondering if you should open it, but seeing as the knocking won’t stop, you get out of bed and open it. On the other side is Kim.

“Hi, Miss—” You nearly slam the door in her face, but she put her weight on the door just in time. “P-please, just give me a minute to explain! I just want to apologize for my selfishness!! I should’ve known better than to take advantage of your trauma.”

You take a second to rethink before opening it for her. You glance at the bathroom, hearing the showerhead still going off.

“You have until Suniya finishes showering to tell me.”

“Thank you…uhm...Again, I’m sorry...I was caught up with my own goals that I lost myself for a second. But...there are a few things that I’ve been doing way before I met you…” she shows you a vanilla folder in her arms. “Here’s some information that I’ve gathered from the town’s archives. It was not an easy task to obtain, so please take good care of them.”

 She passes the folder to you. When you open it, it’s filled with records that look so old that it’ll crumble at any second. Some of these papers feel like it’s decades old too.

“What’s this?”

“My research. I hope this is enough for you to forgive me...I think it’ll really help you with figuring out who Taehyung is and what this curse is.”

And just like that, Kim leaves. You close the door and set the folder down on the desk, spreading every individual paper out for you to read. Some of them are extremely old—going as far as the late 1800’s. The papers on top of the stack are about every recorded disappearance in Little Bare, even some that came after Annie’s. In total, there are a little under sixty child disappearances. As you go through each article, from most recent to oldest, you notice that at some point, the Winter Bear lore became big in the news in the 1950s when a wealthy child went missing. There was even an attempt to make a film out of it but was cancelled due to how controversial it was. To some extent, there was a children’s book in the 1940s about the bear as well.

But as you go back in time, there tends to be less coverage in the early 1900s, most likely due to new coverage of the two World Wars being more favored. A majority of its timeline has been skipped over, and now you’re in the 1880s with newspapers with titles like Exclusive!! Small Town Cursed with Black Magic or Real-Life Witch Doctor Lives!! Cave is an Accessway to Hell. The columns come with pictures of supposed real cave drawings, all are shapes resembling animals, some are birds, dogs, fish, and...bears. There are outrageous claims that the one responsible for those drawings used their blood.

However, as you skim through the articles, it explains what the purpose of those drawings are. Each one resembles the strength of each animal, bird = flight, fish = underwater breathing, etc. There are also theories that the etchings give the holder the ability to shapeshift, though it’s limited. In the third and last article, the title says, Breaking News: Immortality Exists...Or Does It?

Once you go through the papers, you make it to the last few papers. It’s been clipped together with a paperclip, and it’s a record of residences who previously lived in Little Bare. As you flip through them, some pages stick out to you. Some names in each year are highlighted with yellow, and it doesn’t take long for you to learn the pattern. Every name that Kim has colored in are Korean immigrants, and, in particular, there’s a large spike in Korean names in the 1910 records. In that exact, there’s only one name that has been highlighted and circled.

The name is Kim Taehyung.

After 1910, the Korean population here decreased significantly, to where there were no more. And the paper at the bottom of the stack is a black-and-white copy of a photograph with all the Korean immigrants that moved into Little Bare in that year. One there’s a pair that stands out to you. It’s a younger version of Taehyung smiling, and standing behind him is a woman, presumably his mother.

That’s when everything clicked for you. And in that moment, you take the picture from the folder, put on your boots and scarf, and take your thick coat before running out through the doors. You can’t wait for this blizzard to die down, and you have a feeling that it won’t if you don’t go now.

But you stop in your tracks, returning to the room, almost forgetting something. You look through the drawers to grab something small before putting it in your pocket before dashing back out.

———

The blizzard is more intense than ever before, even to the point to where you can barely see anything. Even opening your eyes wider already feels like they’ll freeze. You trek onward to the cave, praying that he’s still there. You’re fully aware at how ridiculous and idiotic this is, like you could’ve waited until it calmed down. But deep down, you know it won’t die down until you find him.

Thankfully, you made it to the cave without any problems. You pick up the pace as you enter the cave, shivering almost to death. Even with multiple layers of clothes, you’re freezing to the point where you can’t feel your feet. In front of you is the black hole that belongs to the cave. The cries of the childrens that Taehyung has taken lurks on the other side. You gulp, clenching your fists to stop them from trembling. You look over your shoulder at the blizzard. You can’t turn back now, so you have to push forward.

You turn on the flashlight on your phone and continue walking. The deeper you went, the louder the cries became. The walls start closing in, and on there are also the same animal drawings from the newspapers. The sound of water droplets complements the hollow cries. It’s getting so loud that it’s beginning to unnerve you. You want to cover your ears, but even if you do, the dreadful cries won’t leave.

But you know that the kids are trying to warn you to leave. They don’t want you to make the same mistakes they made. They’re children—pure souls who lost their young lives. They don't have any intentions to play tricks on you, so that’s why you have to keep pushing through because you have unfinished business.

“(Y/N)...” A young girl’s voice calls out from behind.

Even though you haven’t heard that voice in years, you know exactly who it is. Turning your head around, an apparition of Annie forms. There she is—in her blue-and-white striped dress and pink jacket with the brown boots. She hasn’t aged a bit, but she’s crying.

“Don’t go. Go back home where you have a warm house and people who care about you.” Annie whimpers.

Hearing her speak weighs heavily on your chest. You can’t hold back the tears, so you let it out.

She extends her hand out. “If you don’t hurry, then you’ll freeze to death here.”

Your knees almost gave in, nearly making you fall. Even though you know full well that she can’t be alive, a part of you feels relieved to see her again. It may not even be her, just a recreation that Taehyung made. She has to be his recreation because a two-year-old wouldn’t know to say this.

You approach her spirit, crouching down to her level. You wipe your eyes, exhaling while you smile. “Hi Annie, thanks for warning me. You’re just trying to look out for your older sister, aren’t you?”

She continues to cry, nodding her head.

“It’s okay, you can trust me now. Your big sister is now a grown up. I’m just going to talk to our friend.”

“But! That’s not a friend! He’s a monster who’s done bad things. It’s his fault that I died and that Mom and Dad hates you. He’s made you miserable. He’s the problem!” She cries even louder.

You tilt your head, your grin not once leaving. “I know, but sometimes people do things because they’ve been wronged, too. They won’t know that they’re doing something bad until they learn the good in the world. Our friend was just lonely because he left his homeland, then his parents left him, and no one wanted to be his friend.”

Annie finally stops crying.

“So when he finally made a friend, he wanted it to last forever. That’s why he took their souls. It didn’t help when he had more bad luck and became immortal and has supernatural powers. I just know that deep down, he’s a good person who’s been on the wrong path for a very long time. Right...Taehyung?”

You stand up, turning around after the spirit of your sister disappears. The cries from the children dissipate, and the only one left crying is Taehyung. You approach him slowly, and as you get closer, you can hear him repeatedly mumbling, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry’ under his breath.

“Am I right, Taehyung? It just got out of hand, and your fear took over you.”

“...I hate opening my eyes to this empty cave. Because I know that whenever I went to town, everyone else would have friends or families to return to when I had nobody. And I never asked to be cursed to live forever either! Why couldn’t I have died a long time ago?!”

He continues to wallow in his own misery.

“And it’s worse when I’m only awake during winter. I don’t even remember what spring, summer, or fall looks like...”

A bear who doesn’t sleep during winter isn’t strong, but a lonely animal because he’ll be the only one awake. Taehyung may be able to live for a long time, but in exchange, he has to hibernate for nine months because the curse is too strong to hold.

“I don’t want to be attached to you. I’m afraid that I’ll try to take you away, but I’m also scared that I’ll never see you again. (Y/N), you’re the only person who’s ever showed me kindness after a hundred years...and I’m afraid that I’ll never experience that again. So please...leave me when you still have the chance. You have a life out there.”

“You don’t have to stay here! You can live with me and—”

“You think I haven’t tried leaving? I’ve tried leaving so many times, but each time I try, I feel like I’m on a leash. The further I go, the more suffocating it gets. An invisible rope is around my neck, but I don’t die. You don’t understand...I’m stuck here forever.”

You don’t want to think about the many attempts he’s tried to end his life. You can’t imagine how you’ll turn out if you were stuck in his position. You’ll probably become insane like him, too. Waking up to the same snowy setting with no one to be there for you. After all, the color white can make people go insane if you see it too much.

You tighten your fists. “Then...then I’ll stay.”

“What?!”

“Let the children’s spirits free and I can stay with you.”

But he shakes his head. “No...don’t give me hope. Just go! Don’t waste yourself with me.”

“No, you listen to me. I’m willing to do it.”

“But...why?! I’ve made your life horrible, and I selfishly took your sister away. I’m the cause of all your problems! I don’t deserve anything from you.”

The pressure of the lives he’s taken away is beginning to weigh down on him, and it’s so much that he can’t handle it. It’s a complicated conflict where he took away so many loved ones from their family, including Annie, but the world was so unfair to him before he fell under this cave’s curse. He didn’t kill because he enjoyed it, but because he didn’t know how to handle his emotions and ended up releasing it in a way he never consciously meant to happen. No matter how hard you try to forget what he’s done, it’ll never leave. It’s engraved into your memory regardless of how much you’ve tried to repress it. You can’t forget but…

You scour through your pocket, showing him the watermelon-flavored candy. He’s confused, but in exchange, you beam. “This is my favorite flavor, and it’s yours too, isn’t it?”

You unwrap it, giving the candy to him. When he doesn’t accept it, you nudge it to him, then he hesitantly takes it.

“Eat it and let the bitterness go away.”

He stares at it, unsure of what your intentions are.

“Almost every kid loves candy, and it’s because of how sweet it is. It’s so sugary that it distracts them from their sorrow. But...it’s also special because of how short-lived the candy is. At some point, it’ll melt in your mouth, and then you’ll want another one, and you can’t keep eating it, otherwise your teeth will rot.”

He clenches it in his fist. “...Why are you going so far for me?”

“Because I like you.”

His eyes widen, almost as if he’s never heard of from somebody else. He thought he heard you wrong. Taehyung is so starstruck.

“I know I can never forget what you’ve done to Annie and what happened after...and honestly...I’m still conflicted. But after getting to know you, I realized that you’re a victim like anybody else. You can’t bring back the kids, but what you can do is learn from your mistakes. So...let the kids go and promise to never take another person’s life.”

You kiss him on the forehead for good luck. After pulling yourself back, but while you were caught off-guard, he leans over to give you a peck on the lips. He feels your chapped lips, which you find embarrassing, but doesn’t matter to him—only that his feelings have also been conveyed to you too.

He pulls back, too timid to look at you in the eyes. “I don’t want to disappoint you, so I vow to never take another person’s life, not even yours.”

“What…? T-Tae…”

“Like what you said, I can’t always be looking for ways to be in an infinite paradise. It’ll just leave me miserable, and I don’t want that to happen to you. What we had was special, and I’ll never forget it. So...it’s okay, you can go.”

From behind, you can hear children laughing. Small hands reach over, grabbing you by your jacket and dragging you away from him.

“Wa-wait, Taehyung! What are you doing?!”

He watches as you try to fight the children’s grasp, knowing full well that if they weren’t there to help him, then you wouldn’t leave. You have a feeling that this will be the last time you’ll see him, so you become choked up in your tears.

“No, don’t do this!”

But he doesn’t respond, afraid that if he says something, he’ll break down.

“Taehyung, I promise I’ll be back! I won’t leave you again! When you open your eyes for winter to come again, then I’ll be there to wake you up. And...even if I’m long gone, then I’ll make sure that you’ll never, ever, have to be alone,” You reach your hand out, extending your pinkie. “I promise.”

With one last look in your eyes, he saw hope. Over a hundred years later, he saw light at the end of the cave, that maybe one day, the curse that had been laid upon him will become a blessing. Maybe this time, he can see someone precious again without taking their life. Even if you don’t fulfill your side to the promise, just the facade of hope is enough to make him look forward to next winter.

Within a blink of an eye, he reaches over and wraps his pinky around yours. He’s so thankful that he’s crying uncontrollably.

“Thank you, (Y/N).”

And with one swift move, the children’s spirits pull you out of the cave, separating you from him. Before you close your eyes, you could’ve sworn that you saw Taehyung in his child form, eating the candy that you gave him.

———

You regain consciousness after feeling someone shaking your shoulders. The first person you see is Suniya, bawling like a baby. When you opened your eyes, she froze, not sure about what to do next.

“Sun...Suniya?”

“Oh, thank god!” She hugs you tightly. “I was so scared that we lost you.”

You’re still in the woods. Though, the snow is beginning to melt and the sun is blaring down on your face. You look around to find all the townspeople surrounding you, including Kim.

“Jesus Christ, you gave all of us a fright, girl.” Margaret wipes her tears with her sleeve. “Goin’ out during the middle of a brutal blizzard. Are you insane?”

You look down at your hands, and they’re not trembling anymore. “I guess I am.”

It felt like a dream. In fact, every second you spent with Taehyung felt like a dream because of how fast time flew by. What you experienced in the cave, you don’t know if it actually happened.

You turn around, seeing that the cave is hollow. It’s a lot smaller than what you last remembered. The entrance is like a black hole, but it isn’t empty. But what’s better is that you don’t hear children crying anymore. You look back at the crowd, glancing at Kim who’s crossing her arms. One look and she knew that you overcame your trauma.

Suniya helps you up, putting your arm around her neck. Though your body is fine, your muscles feel weak.

“Come on, let’s go back and get you warmed up.”

“What the hell were you doin’ here, by the way?” Margaret asks.

“There’s just something that I needed to do...and I’m not done with it yet.”

[The End]

———

EPILOGUE

“Alright, next, I’m going to teach you how to make a campfire.”

You are standing in a circle around a bunch of kids. They’re wearing thick jackets with badges on them and have dark green hats with the symbol of a brown bear over a snowflake over them. They’re hugging their arms, shivering to the old.

“Do we have to make one now?”

“It’s too cold to do anything, Miss.”

“Can’t we just learn it back at the cabin?”

You shake your head. “The whole reason to make a campfire is to build it outside. Not only is the fire meant to keep you warm, but it also helps cook food and used as a light source.”

You grab some branches from the ground, wiping the snow off of it.

“You see how wet it is? It won’t make a good fire. It’s going to be difficult, but you need to find dry wood like this.”

You compare and contrast between the two, kicking snow off of the ground until you see dirt. You place the wood, taking out two rocks and creating friction to spark them. And just like that, you’re able to create fire. The kids stand around your campfire, awing at it as the flames rise.

However...the flames go out within seconds. “Oh…”

The children laugh. “What was that?”

“That was terrible!”

“Hold on, just give me one second…” You grab the wood to make a second attempt. “I swear it worked the first time.”

“Miss (Y/N), why are we camping during winter? Doesn’t girl scout camps happen during summer?”

“Yea! All my friends go during summer. My parents kept saying that this camp saves more money...but it’s unfair.”

“Well...let me tell you something. They can teach you all the methods of surviving during the summer, but almost every tip is thrown out the window when it’s snowing. I have a friend who used to be your age and didn’t know how to survive on his own in the winter. His mother abandoned him a long time ago and no one wanted to take care of him. So he was on his own.”

This gathers the attention of all the girls, so they surround you as you continue the story.

“He was starving and cold because he didn’t know the basics of survival, like making a campfire. He didn’t know how to fish nor did he know how to build a tent.”

“I hope she went to jail for abandoning her own child.”

“Why would his mother leave him?? That’s so messed up.”

“Sometimes, it’s not because they want to, but because they can’t. We’ll never fully know why she left him, but I think she did love him.”

“What? I think she hated him.”

“Because before she left him, she told him that he’s a strong boy. Maybe she left him because she knew that he'd survive. Of course, this is by no means a good method of parenting, but she had faith in her own son that he’ll make it through the winter.”

“I don’t think she cared about him,” one of the girl scouts crosses her arms. “Couldn’t he go to the police for help? They’re always there to help him find his home!”

“Yea, but it wasn’t that simple. You see, he was considered as...different, I guess you could say. People many years ago thought completely opposite from us, so no one wanted to help him.”

“Is he still alive?”

You fall silent, and this builds anticipation for your response. They draw closer to you, unable to handle the suspense.

“He’s still alive.”

They sigh in relief.

“Do you girls want to meet him?”

“Wait, can we??”

You nod. “He’s a little shy at first, but he’s super friendly.”

“How does he look like??”

“Hmm...he’s super tall,” you raise your arms up in the air. “And he has broad shoulders. His hair is so curly that it almost looks like cotton candy. He also has a mole under his nose and the most charming smile anybody has ever seen.”

You stare at the sky with dreamy eyes, and that’s when the girls understood the subtle hints. They elbow each other, giggling and covering their mouths.

But you’re clueless. “What’s so funny?”

“Do you have a crush on him, Miss (Y/N)?”

Your cheeks turn red, and they squeal with excitement. You press your knuckles on your lips as you become more flustered.

“Keep it a secret, but he’s my boyfriend.”

They scream, stunned that their leader has someone in her heart. You shush them, worried that their voices would disrupt the town’s peace.

“Di-did you guys do things...like kissing??” One girl whispers.

You nod, and they hide their screams behind their covered mouths. Then, you rub your stomach, feeling a lump. “Pretty soon, we’re gonna be a family.”

The girls have no idea what you meant, but they’re not at the age to learn about that yet.

“He’s the most important person in the entire world to me. He sleeps a lot, so I don’t get to see him that often, so every second I have with him matters until I get too old. Because of that, he’s afraid that one day when he opens his eyes, I won’t be there anymore. So, even if I’m gone, he’ll have enough friends that he won’t ever have to feel alone anymore.”

From behind a dead tree, you can see Taehyung hiding behind it. You snicker, certainly knowing that he heard the entire conversation. He’s probably trying to fight back his tears. Every time you visit him during winter, he would sob and express about how much he doesn’t deserve you. But since he went through decades of suffering, this is the least you can do to ease it.

You raise your head, pointing your direction to him. “Taehyung, would you like to sit with us?”

He peers his head over the tree, holding the bark gently while staring at the ground. He raises his eyes, trying his hardest to hide his smile.

“...Thank you.”

[End]

A/N: Thank you for everyone who read this, especially considering how long it is lol. I wanted to get this out during winter, but it took longer than expected ha ha. I hope you guys are all safe and healthy!! Don’t be afraid to leave any comments :) Have a beautiful day. ^^

Masterlist

[strikearose]

Uncovering Passione's Underside (1/1) GIOMIS

What one can learn by listening to what the secretive Passione's staff have to say about their Don... One-shot, GioMis, Post-canon, Humor, G+ You can also read it on ao3 here!

For as long as many Passione members could recall, Agnese Bianchi had always been there, grumbling as she would mop the hall floor and nagging at fellow cleaning employees and ruthless gang members all alike. It didn't matter how long their felonious resumes were, she simply couldn't stand slackers. Years of working within that specific industry had forged her strong character - she was honest, hardworking, and probably a tad too outspoken too about her aversion for mobsters, but she still knew better than to ask silly questions like some other people did.

The housekeeper glared at the man who'd been chatting up the new cleaner (and therefore, preventing her from mopping up the floor as she had explicitly urged her to) for the last half hour. His name was Trado, Trattore, or something that sounded way too much like Tradittore anyway: he was one of the Don's many henchmen. Ever since he had started working there, he had taken that annoying habit of snooping everywhere, making idle chitchat with the household staff during rush hour.

The old maid cleared her throat, grabbed her cleaning cart handles, and pushed it unceremoniously between the pair. "Is that what you call cleaning the reception room? Signore Giovanna wants it sparkling clean: go fix it now or apply for another job already!"

Her harsh tone worked just fine: the young employee, caught red-handed slacking work, gasped in surprise and mumbled a brief apology before leaving in a hurry. The man, however, didn't seem the least concerned about her admonition. He simply smiled and raised his hands in self-defense - and lord if there was a way he could possibly piss her off even more.

Agnese chose to simply disregard his presence and rummaged through her pockets to find the key she needed.

Click.

As it opened, she began to push her cleaning cart over the door sill with some difficulty.

"Need some help?"

Agnese sighed when she realized he was still there. Who the hell was he taking her for?

"I don't. As always, I'm doing just fine on my own."

To her dismay, it seemed that her sharp answer didn't manage to get rid of the gangster. For God's sake, couldn't he just go bother someone else, literally anyone but her? There was nothing Agnese hated more than to have someone watch her every move.

...

Or perhaps slackers.

Slackers who intended on watching her every move.

"So, for how long have you been working there? They say you'll bury us all..."

Agnese rolled her eyes as she finally managed to get her cart through the doorway.

"Long enough to have seen my fair share of slackers come and go..." The cleaning lady truly wished he'd get the memo this time. She had seen it all: louts in suits with fake good manners and scarred faces, but also men that seemed to be way too nice and curious for their own good. To her, that last species was the worst: they were wolves in sheep's clothing.

But of course, Trado (or Trattore or whatever was his name) didn't appreciate the subtlety of her response, and he continued his questioning: "You've been there long enough to have known the former boss, right? The one before Don Giovanna, a real freak apparently... "

Agnese tensed at that: she didn't like where the conversation was heading. She was unfortunately all too familiar with those office gossips. A little over five years ago now, Passione had gone from having no official face, to Giorno Giovanna's gracing every streets' corners. Rumors had it that the young, brilliant, man had brutally murdered the Original Don in the span of a week. Others thought that Giovanna's was his son and that the boss had simply granted himself a well-deserved retirement.

She couldn't care less about what had truly happened: Don Giovanna gave her a monthly salary as well as direct, concrete instructions. And those were the two things that mattered to her. He was good at that, giving clear orders to the people to his service. And it was nicer to serve him than to obey blindly the weird requests she'd receive by mail like before.

"Don't you really have anywhere else to go?", the cleaning lady suddenly turned to the man she had heard approaching but was relieved to see that he had not dared to enter the Don's office. He was looking at her, peering at what she was doing, from the door's threshold. "If you want a piece of advice, stop being so damn noisy."

The gangster laughed and at that, Agnese wished she could just sweep him out of the room.

"Relax! I'm new here, I'm just curious. Don Giovanna's pretty nice, he won't murder us over some harmless chitchat."

The Boss of a criminal organization, a nice man?

It was Agnese's turn to snort.

Yeah, she guessed it was the kind of public image he was adamantly working on And some people seemed to believe it: newspapers were reporting less traffic, a decline in thugs harming citizens' and tourists' safety. The astounding sums of money he was giving to local shelters, hospitals, and public schools were also common knowledge: rumors had it that the city council was even thinking of naming the brand-new biological museum, founded thanks to his many donations, after him.

As a boss, Agnese considered him to be pretty decent  - well, as decent as being the Don of a criminal organization could possibly allow him to be considered. After all, he was well-educated enough not to leave clothes and magazines scattered everywhere like the previous boss and some of his most favored underlings did.

But as a man, there was no way she could possibly tell if he was nice. Agnese was just an old, tired cleaning lady: she never pried into the Don's private life even though she guessed there were things that couldn't escape her lack of malicious curiosity. Details such as notes and silly doodles scribbled on his desk, scraps of paper (of extremely dubious content) discarded in the garbage can she needed to empty or sweaters which were at least two sizes too big for him lying on the normally spotless ground of his room...

Sighing, the old maid was about to close the door behind her when she noticed it: the stupid smirk on the gangster's face. The stupid knowing smirk they always had whenever they would bring up the one topic she had no desire to discuss.

How she wished she could just spray him with a window cleaner to wipe it out of his face.

"You know people say 'bout them, right? I'm sure it's complete bullshit but..."

The answer Agnese gave him was the same she would lecture her own underlings with: "One thing I know for sure is that the Underboss always carries his gun on him... And the Don sure doesn't need one to silence people. So just drop it and mind your own business."

With a last sigh, she finally shut the door closed and started her heavy work. However, even though the noisy snoop had left, Agnese felt her mind drift to her first encounter with the Don as she was dusting the ancient bookcase.

It had happened about four years ago, on a late December afternoon - was it because she had arrived too early or because he had stayed in his office later than usual, but the door had been left open so she had loudly pushed her cart inside. The old cleaning lady had instantly understood her mistake - after all, there was little mystery about whom that man was... Who else would dare to enter the big boss's office in his absence?

Golden locks, emerald eyes looking right at her with mild surprise: he obviously had not been expecting her.

"Oh, it's already that time of the day," his chin tilted high and proud, the mafia boss had flatly made that statement.

Not knowing what to say, Agnese had simply nodded and taken a discreet look at the massive clock behind him. 8:17 pm. He was definitely the one behind schedule, not her: she was just on time.

Not that she could say it aloud anyway.

"I didn't know you were still in there, Signore Giovanna," while her head was slightly bowed as a sign of respect, she had not apologized for her intrusion. She had nothing to apologize for: boss or not, he was the one messing with the established schedule. "I'll come back to clean your office later."

Don Giovanna had however soon dismissed her concern with a motion of his hand.

"It's fine, you can start working now. I was about to leave anyway."

The old housemaid nodded and was about to approach the bookcase when she had stopped right on her track, seeing the state of the ancient Victorian carpet. The boss had a rather keen hearing as he almost instantly turned his attention away from his papers to peer at Agnese, understanding what the problem was right away.

The blood hadn't just spattered on the carpet - there were traces of it on the sofa. And on the cushions. As well as on the desk's marble border.

And of course, the Don had to insist on furnishing his office with pristine white furnitures  - even the smallest stain could be spotted from miles away.

Well, at least to look at the bright sight, Agnese realized that she wasn't the one who had to take care of the body, to each, his own mess: scrubbing out the carpet was already going to be a real nightmare.

"I apologize for that," the voice of her employer was surprisingly gentle, and it had taken her off guard. "I'll make sure the floor is covered properly next time."

As unbelievable as it might sound, the Don had kept true to his word: she hadn't been able to find a single drop of blood in his office ever since.

And she had even gotten a raise in the following week.

**

Rumors had it that Don Giovanna was capable of prodigious deeds that a rational mind could not possibly explain: that dazzling smile of his could enchant things and bend them to his will. Some prominent figures from all parts of the world, whose identities shall remain hidden, had apparently come out of his office miraculously cured. But rumors also had it that the reason why his public appearances were becoming more and more scarce was because of a growing sensitivity to daylight.

So Agnese paid very little to no regard to them. Most of the time, like Tradutti had stated, it was indeed complete bullshit.

However, later that night, as she undid her bandages to observe the state of the burn on a forearm (a stupid domestic accident involving a boiling teapot), Agnese was amazed to find her epidermis completely smooth. There was no more blistering or dead skin: her forearm was of a softness that contrasted with the rest of her body:the astronomical amount of tiger balm and aloe vera used could not possibly explain that. So as much of a skeptic as she was, the cleaning lady was forced to admit that it had to be somehow related to her earlier encounter with the Don.

As soon as she had stepped outside his office after tidying it, she had spotted the mafia boss in the hallway. He was accompanied by five or six men dressed in equally expensive suits. Among them was a face quite familiar to her: the city mayor who was making it to the news because of yet another corruption scandal.

The last thing she needed was to get involved in this ugly mess, so the cleaning lady kept her head high and bravely pushed her cart forwards. What she wasn't expecting however was for the Don to stop her.

"Did you injure yourself?"

She had had no choice but to peer down too at her bandage and lie through her teeth: "It's nothing, Signore."

His face showed no emotion, but he took a step towards her and delicately grabbed the injured arm before she could protest. His grip was somehow gentle but tight: there was no way she could escape from it. It was a literal iron fist in a velvet glove.

Agnese could still recall feeling the gazes of the Mayor and his bodyguards on her, they had also stopped walking to stare at her. Her heart rate had momentarily quickened when the Don's hands had brushed over her wound, his emerald eyes never leaving her confused expression. A sharp pain had set her wrist on fire... And then nothing.

She no longer felt a thing - it was as if it had never happened: Don Giovanna had taken a step back and addressed his subordinates, and they all had resumed their walk, any concern about the poor old maid definitely forgotten. The only one who had graced her with something (a strangely amused smile) before leaving was Guido Mista.

The Underboss truly was something. He often reminded Agnese of her own son: way too careless and untidy. His room was a literal nightmare to clean: most of his cashmere sweaters (which he had no problem leaving on the floor for all that mattered) needed to be hand-washed, and he also had the specificity of returning several times a month completely riddled with bullets.

The fact that he was somehow still alive despite his many injuries was as much a real blessing to him that it was a curse for her.

After all, Agnese was the one who had to clean up after him: and there was nothing easier than to track him because with Underboss Mista came blood everywhere.

Everywhere.

From the pavement outside to the sheets of a certain person whose name shall remain unknown.

...

The kitchen timer rang and Agnese was brought back to reality.

She couldn't say for sure if the Don was responsible for this miracle, but she still wished he could have also helped with her rheumatism too.

━━━━━ ༻🌱༺ ━━━━━

Unlike Agnese, Rolfo Giardino was still fairly new at that whole managing-not-to-get-mixed-up-in-mafia-mess-while-working-for-them dilemma. This gardener may have had twenty years of experience, nothing could have possibly prepared him for what was about to come.

The headquarters' gardens themselves were very pleasant - they were spacious and ideally located. Starting from scratch, that is to say from an austere backyard where some pathetic trees were beginning to wither to this authentic example of Giardino all'italiana, adorned with classical sculptures, flowering shrubs, fountains and ornamental parterres, had not been easy at first but Signore Giovanna had agreed to pay the price without thinking twice and the result was worth it.

Now that it was done, now that Rolfo and his team only had to maintain the garden (meaning watering the flowers and cutting the hedges one or two times a week), he guessed the job would be pretty nice if it weren't for all those mobsters who, for some reason he still couldn't gather, enjoyed watching him work. That, as well as those dreadful echoes of gunfire and screams which would shatter from time to time the peaceful atmosphere of the garden.

The rustling of water, the birds' chirping, a loud explosion from within the building... A nice sunny day overall.

Some of his employees were still refusing to work there despite his best attempts to reassure them: for as long as they would stay away from the actual building, it was not like something could happen to them, right? Still, they were places where even Rolfo himself did not like to approach, near the window overlooking what he thought was the Big Boss's office for instance. He had been forced to come close (way too close) to it because of his client's special request to have ivy and white roses gambling along this wall.

He had started working on it on a day when the weather was so mild that the window had apparently been cracked open for once - and the uncanny noises and groans that had escaped through it had scared the gardener to death. He hadn't dared to peer inside to find out what was really happening: the last thing he needed to know was what the Don of Passione's private torture sessions consisted of. Ever since that unfortunate incident, Rolfo had not ventured any closer to the damn white rosebushes. The branches were becoming too long, they were clearly starting to block the path of light, but as long as the Don didn't make any complaint, Rolfo would leave them be.

But on that day, however, the poor gardener saw red as his eyes fell on the figure loitering near that damn window: who was that son of a bitch was stepping on his flower beds!

"Hey you fucking moron: Move! Can't you see you're ruinin' my work?" Rolfo's shout managed to hit the bull's eye. The criminal was startled by it and half a dozen of armed men (probably criminals too) suddenly burst out the building to see what the hell was happening. He sprinted in the direction of the jerk and threw his pair of pruning shears at him. The gardening tool narrowly missed him - it crashed against the window instead (which, thank lord, did not shatter after the impact), but still made him leave. The stern face of Giorno Giovanna soon appeared, his head comically peaking out the building.

The Big Boss frowned when he realized that five of his men were gathered outside, frantically looking for someone, and took a deep breath: "Did one of you just threw a rock at my window?" He sounded confused, and to his credit, that was quite understandable.

Rolfo felt all adrenaline leave him abruptly - he could feel on him the murderous glares of literal murderers, who would have probably murdered him on the spot were it not for the presence of their Big Boss. He had no choice but to come clean: "Uhh, I do believe it was my pruners, Signore. I apologize, I swear they weren't aimed at you. It was for that damn...- uhh, I mean, that employee of yours!"

The Don didn't seem the slightest taken aback by the choice of weapon. He ran a hand through his braided locked and motioned for the others to go.

"You're saying that someone was eavesdropping on me just now?"

Rolfo looked down for a moment before answering: "Uhh, probably? I mean, he was stomping on my rosebushes near your window, that's for sure. They're Blanche Moreau's you know? They took weeks to arrive from France, weeks to finally blossom in Italy's sunlight!"

The mafia boss frowned at that, and Rolfo just knew he understood how valuable these roses were. After all, the Don seemed to be pretty knowledgeable about plants and lots of stuff: rumors had it that they were going to name that new museum after him so...

Signore Giovanna looked behind him and seemed to be addressing someone in the room: "Make sure to find him."

Curiosity overcame his initial reserve: standing on tiptoe, the gardener finally peered at the window to see what was happening inside. The office seemed incredibly spacious and clean: a dark-haired man, behind the desk, was adjusting the position of his cap on his head.

"Kay, I'll climb down the window to catch him faster! The fucker must be hiding somewhere close!," as soon as the man finished speaking, Rolfo couldn't help but react straight away.

"No, you can't do that! You'll ruin the other bushes!"

Both mafiosi looked at him for a moment and the old gardener realized he might have spoken out of turn, but the Don settled the matter for them anyway:

"He's right, I do like these Blanche Moreau's: go around my office Mista. And please, your zipper." That last part had been uttered quietly, but Rolfo had still managed to pick up on it. His devout Catholic mind would probably have been offended by it were it not for the sudden realization which left him quivering.

How on earth was he able to peak so clearly at the window now...?

"That fucking son of a bitch!", at that the mafia boss frowned and looked at him quizzically, but Rolfo couldn't halt the stream of profanities coming out of his mouth. It was too late. "He chopped it off! The whole branch!! It's all gone!"

**

Rolfo had promised his wife he would never get too close to the mafia, even though those paychecks sure were quite weighty. And yet as he was now, comfortably sitting in a well-made leather seat, a cup of coffee in his hand, he thought that for a first time within the shady building he had tried to avoid entering for so long, things were actually looking pretty normal. A week had passed since the unfortunate roses incident, and he had been surprised to receive after a subsequent sick leave a call from the Don's office. He didn't really have much choice, so he had shown up on time and was now patiently waiting in the lobby.

"Don Giovanna will now receive you."

Rolfo followed without a word the pretty secretary - she too looked way too customarily pretty to be involved in that kind of business. It was only when he passed under the massive arch of the door that he became fully aware of what was happening: the head of the Italian mafia had summoned him here.

As expected, it was the Don's spacious office, the one he had managed to catch a glimpse of through the window free of rose branches. The room appeared to be spotlessly clean - hell, it even smelled like a mixture of disinfectant and fresh lemon. Definitely not what he was expecting it to look like. Oddly enough, the very first thing he noticed was the tarp on the floor: that gaudy blue plastic was seriously clashing with the rest of the pristine white furnishings.

"Good afternoon, Signore Giardino. Is that the man you spotted by my window the other day?," Rolfo met the gaze of the mafia boss who was calmly standing to what soon turned out to be a man in bad shape, feet and fists bound onto the chair.

On the other side of the suspect, nonchalantly propped against the desk, was the gangster who had wanted to hop out the window.

All three of them were looking at the gardener expectantly, and he heard behind him the sound of the door closing. Of course, the pretty secretary couldn't stay.

"I can't say for sure Signore. See, I was so focused on the combat boots trampling my bushes that I didn't pay too much attention to his face..."

He hated the bastard who had wrecked his work, sure, but to rush him to such a tragic fate...

"Cool, then check it out!," the underboss had spoken with a casualness contrasting with the cruelty of the angle in which he twisted the poor man's leg. Rolfo had no choice but to look at the sole of his boot.

...

The fucking bastard.

There were still manure and rose petals stuck to it. And those were no common rose petals - they were large, fluffy and creamy white. They had been violently snatched away from a Blanche Moreau's sepal.

The gardener hardly needed to speak up to convince the mafia boss - the lethal look he was giving the tied-up man was already enough evidence.

Umberto Tradduto's fate had just been sealed.

Rolfo couldn't say what prompted him to look outside, but after that he only overheard bits of the conversation whispered in front of him: what was he was seeing right now was far more chocking anyway:

"I leave it to you for now Mista. I'll dispose of him later."

"Another donation to the museum?"

"Not this time. I think he'll make a fine aphid instead, that way our gardener will be able to settle his score with him."

Rolfo wasn't even pretending to be listening to what was being said anymore. He couldn't believe his eyes. He took a step towards the window and the two mafiosi, deep in their discussion, didn't notice it immediately.

"Keep your evening free, we'll be paying a visit to the mayor tonight. I'm getting tired of the spies he keeps sending here."

"Tonight? Hey, do you know how much it cost me to book the entire restaurant?"

The Don cleared his throat as if suddenly reminded of the other two's presence: "The sooner the better. I'm sure she won't mind. You'll reschedule your date later."

Mista was about to protest, but he fell silent as he realized where the gardener was standing: "Hey man, what the...-"

But Rolfo overstepped his role again to cut him off. His eyes shining with emotion, he turned towards the mighty Giorno Giovanna and addressed him as if he was a true deity.

"How...- How did you...? This is prodigious Signore!"

Behind him, blocking the light from the window, were proudly standing three beautiful unscathed roses branches.

━━━━━ ༻ 🚗 ༺ ━━━━━

Alfredo waked up completely startled as he heard someone bang on his window: dozing off at the wheel was a rookie mistake, he was well aware of that - but still.

"Hey open up!"

The underboss' voice was agitated - something very rare for such an easy-going man, so Alfredo immediately unlocked the doors and got out of the vehicle to assist him. Mista was backing up the big boss, a hand wrapped under his shoulders to help him stand.

The driver shot a panicked look at the small cottage they had just come from: what the hell had just happened in there?

Alfredo glanced at the Don's patent leather shoes - he was dressed as reverently as usual - and then at the underboss' worn-out leather jacket: even though they were clothed as if they were going to very different events, they had asked him to drop them at the same address: the mayor's private country hous. He had followed the itinerary scribbled on the paper an informer had given him a few hours before. It was the driver's special talent: being resourceful. Even without a precise address, he always knew how to bring his customers to the desired place.

His clients never asked him how it worked, and in return, he never made any remark on the state they would return to the car in. Or to question why they seemed so keen to surprise the mayor at such a late hour of the evening.

Alfredo was even willing to give an extra hand if needed, occasionally overstepping his role of a simple driver if the client was likely to be a good tipper.

He opened the passenger door for the mafia boss, but to his great surprise the latter stopped him right there:

"I'm fine. Just open the trunk instead."

Alfredo tensed up but said nothing as he went back to his seat to retrieve his leather gloves.

It was another kind of extra service: helping them to get rid of incriminating clues. Well, it wouldn't be the first body dumped in the back of his precious vehicle, and certainly not the last. As long as they would pay for the subsequential cleanup, he didn't mind.

"How many bottles have you stolen?," The underboss had ushered that question to the boss not discreetly enough, and the driver allowed himself a relieved sigh.

No bodies on the horizon, then?

No scandal of the mayor's disappearance making the headlines on the next day?

Great, he'd be able to go back to bed sooner.

As he passed next to the two mafiosi to open the trunk, Alfredo noticed the two bottles of prestigious champagne that the Don was clutching tightly against his. chest. Oh wow. The underboss, on the other hand, was eyeing Giorno with a bewildered look, as if it had just occurred to him that the mysterious gigantic box he had been forced to carry from the cottage contained more bottles.

"Guido please, go fetch me a last one," the Don was less assertive than usual - you could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

Alfredo awkwardly stood next to them in silence as he waited for his next instructions. Charcoal and emerald eyes were engaged in a long, fierce battle of dominance, neither of them breaking contact. Hell, it even seemed to Alfredo at some point that the Don fluttered his lashes - but that could also be exhaustion talking.

Years of working within that specific industry had taught Alfredo how they would inevitably settle that growing tension between them.

Once again, for as long as they would pay for the subsequential seats cleaning, he didn't care. It wouldn't be the first indecent make-out session to happen at the back of his precious vehicle, and probably not the last.

A partition wall was always between Alfredo and his clients. Until now, he had never managed to catch them red-handed, but he had heard of those rumors. And he, better than anyone else certainly, knew for a fact that the Don had never sought to have good company brought to him. He'd always travel to his secondary residence alone while the underboss was the kind of man who preferred to drive there by himself.

Apart from the occasional names slips, he had never witnessed any tender gesture, he had never overheard anything remotely ambiguous. The details that had tipped him off were more subtle, or well usually at least they were. They would simply sit a little too close to one another, with no free seat between them - the pair was never five feet apart so that to speak. But right now, unless he would turn off the parking lights, there was no way Alfredo could pretend he wasn't seeing the Don's right hand slowly lowering far too low along the other's back. It was clearly no longer a question of keeping his balance.

"Fine," the Don let out a dramatic sigh and the driver nearly said hallelujah - now that he had admitted defeat, they would be able to leave at last! "If you won't do it, then fine I'll ask our driver instead."

Holy shit, what the hell was going on that night?

Alfredo quietly took a step back to exit the scene but it was too late - both mafiosi were already looking at him. If they were seriously intending on making him break into the mayor's house, he sure hoped they were ready to give a real good tip.

Fortunately, the underboss shook his head and rolled his eyes (had they just swapped personalities?), before reluctantly talking: "'kay you win I'll go. But then, we're outta here." Mista put the box inside the trunk and headed back to the cottage, leaving the driver in the company of the big boss who didn't seem quite inclined to enter the car yet. So Alfredo had no choice but to stay with him outside, on the chilly night and very awkward silence.

It was only after the third hiccup of the Don that the realization came down to him: he wasn't injured by any means, he was just completely drunk.

"Umm," Alfredo knew he wasn't supposed to question his boss, but the silence between them was becoming seriously uncomfortable. "So were you celebrating something Signore?"

The mafia boss looked at him for a long moment - god, the poor driver sure hoped he hadn't made a mistake, before shrugging: "Not really. I simply like Champagne, especially when I'm not the one paying for it."

Who could have thought that someone who spent so much on luxury clothes could be stingy?

Alfredo decided to politely answer. "Yes, I've heard you own several vineyards in Europe Signore. It's clever, I'm sure you never run out it..."

At that, the mighty Giorno Giovanna ungraciously hiccuped again, and the driver had the decency to pretend not to notice it.

"Mhhh.. You don't get it," had the mafia boss just snorted in contempt? "It's not so much about the Champagne itself as it is about the pure satisfaction of having taken possession of it... The mere contentment in knowing that the stupid mayor will never be able to savor it now that it's mine, you know?"

No, of course, not. There was no way Alfredo could possibly relate to that: it must be one of those crazy rich people whims.

Not that he could say it out loud, of course. The night was getting colder and colder, so he hoped the underboss wouldn't take long to be back.

"Would you like a bottle?," the Don's question took him by surprise so the driver, out of reflex, shook his head.

"Good, or you would have had to convince Mista to go back."

The stingy rich bastard.

Alfredo couldn't believe he was thinking that of him, in any other situation he would never have allowed himself to think that of Giorno Giovanna, but there were at least eight bottles in the trunk, he had seen them. And the Don knew that.

Fortunately, the underboss chose that exact moment to reappear and slam the trunk door shut after charging it with two other bottles.

Discreet much?

But whatever, the Don seemed rather pleased with that and finally agreed to go inside the car - his customers' satisfaction was what mattered the most to Alfredo.

After all, with good service came good tippers.

And that night, in exchange for the obvious promise to keep his mouth shut about what he had witnessed, the underboss sure went overboard with the tip.

━━━━━ ༻ 🧹 ༺ ━━━━━

It was now 8:20 a.m.: even though the day had started way earlier for Agnese, she had had to wait for the mobsters living upstairs to rise and shine, so she could proceed to clean their rooms. It was by far the task she hated the most: grabbing her heavy cleaning cart, she pushed it towards what had to be the cleanest place of them all. The Don's private quarters, starting with his excessively large bathroom: since the fancy tiles there took the longest to dry, she would then continue with his connected bedroom.

However, as soon as she stepped foot inside, Agnese almost fainted at the horrible sight that met her eyes.

Clothes, confetti and popped balloons were scattered everywhere, pieces of glass were covering the soaked floor, and an astronomical amount of what furiously smelled like Champagne had been dumped into the bathtub, splattering the walls and the carpet- hell, it even seemed like some of it was still fizzing inside.

Up until now, she had thought that she had seen it all, that nothing that the most wicked mind was capable of, could possibly surprise her. But that was a whole new level of a mess.

Thankfully, the inscription on a balloon (the survivor, the only one that had not exploded yet) was what prompted her not to hand the culprit her immediate resignation letter.

The Don's birthday would only happen once a year.

And with some sheer luck, she'd be able to negotiate her well-deserved retirement before the next one.

**

That morning, Guido woke up because of a cuss word that reminded him very much of his native Italian countryside. He had no idea what time it was:  Giorno's expensive alarm clock having been inadvertently smashed the night before. He yawned gleefully and stretched out his arms before turning to face the lumpy shape beside him.

The mighty Giorno Giovanna, drool on his chin, was muffled in his blanket, and it didn't seem from the look of it that he'd be getting up any time soon.

He was probably dealing with a hell of a hangover right now - served him right for the astronomical quantity of Champagne in which he had literally bathed and drowned. Giorno would decidedly never learn from his past mistakes. Well, he was very much looking forward to taunting his lover for years about that unfortunate late birthday episode.

There was no way the mafia boss would be able to conduct his meetings of the day - changing the planning wasn't something to worry about even though it would piss the hell out of Fugo for sure. Feeling compassionate about what was awaiting Giorno, he gently patted what he thought was his head (?) and smiled as he heard him grumble in return. How cute.

Guido finally stood up to start his day, he would smuggle him some Ibuproben later but first thing first, his much-awaited morning tinkle. And a long hot shower. Yeah, that way he would perhaps find a ploy to avoid dealing with Giorno's responsibilities instead of him. While he was not hungover, the late night's events had completely drained him of his energy.

Giorno's bathroom truly was something: it was way more spacious and tidier than his own. To him, it was a literal spa: cool extra-powerful water jets, a gigantic glass shower cabin AND a massive marble bathtub, a myriad of bottles of heavenly-smelling shampoo, conditioners, shower gels and body lotions everywhere - hell, there was even a housekeeper politely handing him a towel.

...

Holy shit.

Trying his best to cover his naked glory, Guido Mista could only stutter pitifully:

"Uhh.. Yeah, so about that new raise of yours we were discussin' the other day..."

This would only be the fourth time of the year, so at this point...

[123goth]

The syndicated man

“Oh, I swear to God, if you don’t start spinning this goddamn instant, I’m gonna smash your glass in and make the toaster watch.” Gripping the edges of my microwave, tightly enough to feel its corners digging into my palms, I growled and gave it a hearty shake. This animalistic roar echoed off my kitchen’s green floors, and another mighty peal of thunder sounded outside.

A flash of lightning painted the room a strange shade of white-olive, the tile catching the glint, and all at once, I felt as though I were the god of storms, speaking my almighty willpower into the microwave that night.

The appliance whirred. It bent to me. And dully, the light came on. The timer blinked. And the leftover pizza began to twirl. And that was that. I sighed, deeply, slumping back against the countertop as the sky finally opened.

The patter of rain filled the building.

This routine could not have come from a sane man, I realized. Sane men did not anthropomorphize their microwaves. They did not threaten to kill their microwaves. They did not inflict psychological torture on their toasters.

Crash!

I jolted. It was that special time of night when the dude in the apartment above seemed to trip and knock everything over. Clank. Bang. Thud! Kaboom! I winced. Was he okay?

“Shut up!” My voice was hoarse. With a long-practiced motion, I pulled the broom from the nearby wall and gave the ceiling four good thumps. And then silence.

I caught my reflection in the oven door. There I stood, armed with a broom, with my shoulders hunched like the world’s worst action figure. I came with a super-hydraulic striped bathrobe, patchy facial hair, and a crooked lip, which healed badly after some guy clocked me in high school.

The microwave beeped. And leaning the broom against the wall, I tugged it open with a grunt to pull out the bubbling grease sponge I was going to eat that night.

I grimaced, knocking the microwave closed with my hip, flicking off the light, and dragging myself into the living room, where I dropped down on the sofa in front of the TV.

The sofa was old, covered in faded brown flowers, and in truth, the television was not much newer. I got them both at the same thrift store—although the attendant would not give me a deal. I wrote them a pretty nasty review that night.

But placing the plate on the cushion to my left, I scooped up the slice in one hand and shoved it into my mouth. My nostrils flared at the sour sensation on my tongue, my taste buds screaming: “No, no, not like this. Anything but this. Just drink actual poison or something.”

I dropped the pizza back onto the plate with a grunt. So much for dinner. I would starve to death.

Michael had been the cook. That night, two years ago, when I sunk into a chair at our kitchen table, my tie already undone, something was boiling on the stove. He had even arranged the alphabet magnets on the fridge to say cutesy shit like, ‘bake the world a better place.’

He did that a lot. I thought it was stupid and told him so, but he was good with words. And I wasn’t.

The little television on the counter was playing a Password rerun.

I should have said something that night. I should have said that whatever was boiling smelled great, or looked good, or that he had worked hard on it. But I didn’t.

“The prick finally did it, Mikey,” I mumbled instead. “He fired me.”

“Oh…oh, it’s okay! We’ll figure it out. You’re good at so many things. You’ll land on your feet.” And he draped two arms over my shoulders, squeezing them tight. But we did not figure it out, and I was not good at anything. And I realize now those were the only two times Michael had ever lied to me.

But screw him. And screw that job. And screw that fridge. And screw the fancy cheeses he kept in it. And screw how much rent that place was asking. And screw me for taking it out on him.

I sighed again. All I did these days was starve and sigh and fight with the microwave. And it was my damn fault. So, I would sit here and feel sorry for myself and mourn for the rest of my life.

Leaning forward, my bones creaking, I manually clicked on the television. Another flash of lightning sparked outside, and the screen came to life in a flurry of static and snow.

Click.

I moved through the channels, one hand on the dial and one on the antenna, twisting it left and right.

Click.

“Romance. The new fragrance….”

Click.

“Italia right in your microwave! New pizza from….”

Click.

“Welcome back to our 24-hour Buzzwords! marathon!”

I could barely see the picture through the fuzz, but the program was some game show from the 70s, complete with a mustached host in a plaid suit.

He dragged around a narrow, wired microphone and made his way through a bright studio, shimmering orange, utterly, sickeningly orange, while a young woman with a sparkling smile, the fabulous Carla, showed off a deluxe dinette set.

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms as I slumped back into the cushion.

And all at once came another mighty crash of thunder, a rumbling noise punctuated by dude upstairs, who dropped another pot, perhaps as startled as I had been by the sound.

The rain reached a climax as if it might break the windows. Something bright darted across the darkened sky, an airplane maybe. I wonder if it had been struck by lightning. And I cried out as, with a mighty surge, the television screen flashed and sputtered out, fried. 

“Oh, Christ!” I growled, throwing back my head. The microwave did this, I decided. It had gotten all its little technology buddies to act out.

I slammed the thing with my palm, once, twice, three times, each responding with only a hollow thud. And when this scientific effort failed, I climbed to my feet and dropped to all-fours to crawl around the television’s rear. The frayed carpet dug into my knees as I tugged the extension cord from the wall.

Well, at least it wasn’t smoking, I mused, something of a crude smirk finding its way to my face. Because this was funny. In a sad tragicomic kind of way, this was funny.

Even now, I could find humor in how utterly pathetic I looked, crawling around on my knees with my boxers hanging out, all because I wanted to watch lesser-known game show reruns.

“Work or I’m gonna go back in that kitchen and throw your commander out the window, you hear me?” Leaning backward and sitting on my legs, I waved the cord deliberately before the television screen. And with that, I ducked back down and plugged it into the wall.

I blinked. And all I saw was light, a strange, fluorescent glow that consumed every inch of my vision.

Oh my God, I thought. I’m dead.

I electrocuted myself, and I’m dead.

My feet were planted on the ground. I was standing. I had crawled around to plug the television into the wall, but somehow, I was now standing. And I could not remember getting up.

“Welcome back to Buzzwords!”

I blinked again, and at that moment. I realized the blinding light was not white at all, but utterly, sickeningly orange. And there I was, like a moron, standing at a podium with a smile plastered across my face.

In truth, I wanted to scowl or grimace or something, but I couldn’t. My muscles ignored me. And on their own, my hands came up to applaud.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I’m your host, Buddy Guy. And we have a great show for you tonight.”

The hell?

“Let’s meet our contestants and get the game underway.” Buddy smiled broadly and walked in my direction.

I found my mouth opening of its own accord.

“Hi, Buddy! My name is John Smith. I’m from Columbus, Ohio, and I want to say hello to my wife, Betty.” These words spilled from me as if rehearsed, without my input, as though I were a passenger in my head (or, as it turned out, someone else’s).

And the absolute worst was that I could not cringe. I could not roll my eyes. I could not grunt or groan at just how saccharine I sounded, nor at the fact that my name was John Smith.

“Welcome, John. Good to have you.” Buddy Guy moved past me like an automaton, introducing a waitress from New York and a wannabe actor, who lived with his beloved roommate William of five years in Los Angeles.

And if I had to choose someone to be from this panel, it probably would have been him, because then at least I would not have a wife named Betty.

But this could not be happening; it certainly was not happening. I was not miming the motions of John Smith from Ohio. It was not 1970-whatever. And so, I truly must have been dead.

This whole illusion was that thing, that thing where synapses fire because your brain is pissed about non-existence. And if I could turn my head, which I could not, I would have peered into the audience to look for departed relatives.

But John stared forward, and so did I.

“Tonight, our contestants are competing for a stunning new kitchen set. Tell them all about it, Jack.”

An announcer from offstage began singing the praises of the sparkling refrigerator, oven range, and microwave that appeared from behind a velvet curtain. The audience lightning-sparkedooo’d and ahh’d.

And by now, Carla had emerged to point at everything, but I barely saw her. Even from this vantage point, unable to move on my own, I could catch my reflection in the oven door.

John Smith was, well, a man, yes, but in a strange, overly generic way. He, and by extension, I, had an average build, brown hair, brown eyes, and a decidedly uncrooked lip, one nobody had ever socked in.

He was the sort of person you might see in a department store catalog, I thought, or in a stock photograph of an office: unassuming and smiley.

But I could not look long.

My head was turning as the unflappable Buddy Guy made his way once again in my direction.

“Let’s reveal our first puzzle,” the host smiled, and taking this cue, Carla pulled out a marker, as if from nowhere, and drew a crude approximation of a gallows on the refrigerator door.

Spinning in a little circle, red gown flashing, she then tugged open the microwave to allow a multicolored pile of alphabet magnets to spill forth from within.

It was just goddamn Hangman, I realized. And I didn’t even get to spin a wheel or anything.

“How about a letter, John?”

“V!” I cried against my will.

Oh great. John sucked at this game.

“Sorry. No ‘V’s.’”

And so, it went.

The waitress guessed a “Y,” and scored a few points. Fishing the letters from the microwave pile, Carla stuck the magnets to the fridge. The actor guessed a number in the form of a question.

I unironically said the phrase “Oh, gee!” when there were no “X’s.”

And at this rate, it took us two whole commercial breaks to get to the unimpressive:

Y_ _  M_D_  Y_ _ R  B _ D.  N_W  LI_  IN  I_

By now, the hanging man was missing only his feet.

This was hell, I thought. I had died, and I had gone to hell.

And I would be terrible at this word game forever, and that was my punishment for being mean to the dude in the apartment upstairs.

And writing that bad review of the thrift store.

And for Michael, who had only ever lied to me twice.

“I’d like to solve it, Buddy!” I grinned.

“Go ahead, John.”

“You made your bed. Now lie in it!”

There were buzzers and bells, and the audience cheered.

“That’s right, John. You made your bed. Now you’re lying in it.”

Buddy smiled at me, and for a moment, a crack appeared, something sharp and sinister behind his cheery expression. His lip twitched, and a flicking tongue, snakelike, nipped the lower part of his mustache.

“I deserve to lie in it, Buddy!”

And somehow, this was pretty goddamn funny. If I could, I would have laughed.

“Onto our next puzzle,” Buddy cut in as Carla knocked down all the letters, leaving them on the floor. She used her bare hand to smudge off the marker.

“Can I have a ‘Y,’ Buddy?”

Jesus Christ, John. How about an actual letter or something? Whatever happened to “A?”

I sighed internally. But to my surprise, Carla reached into the microwave and retrieved the red letter, placing it on the refrigerator door.  John did it. He got one. I felt excited for him.

I squeezed the podium. My hands were working, I realized, and so, overcome, I squeezed, just as tightly as I had the microwave that night, finding again the sensation of willpower.

But by now, Buddy was busy with the waitress and the actor, the former somehow earning a double penalty, which made Carla draw both a head and a body on the gallows.

But when play returned to me, I was able to speak up.

“What the hell is going on?”

The host narrowed his eyes, sniffing the air.

“Guess a letter, John.”

“I don’t know. An ‘A!’”

Sifting through the alphabet pile, Carla placed two magnet letters on the fridge, but she too was giving up her pretense. There was no pointing and smiling. She stared at me with a dour, annoyed expression, as if she could not believe my gall.

“It’s ‘Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter Here,’” I said.

Which was a cliché, but I was realizing now that if kitsch was going to be my hell, I could at the very least lean into it.

“Well, all right. Thank you for tuning in, ladies and gentlemen. After this important message, John will be moving to the bonus round,”

Buddy said to the camera. “Are we at commercial?”

No one responded. He marched over to me, twirling the microphone cord around his hand. I looked at it and realized it may very well have been the noose with which the poor loser might be strung up.

“You’re not playing by the rules, John,” he said nonchalantly, beginning to use the wire to bind my hands together, tighter and tighter, around my wrists, his grip surprisingly firm.

“Hey! Hey!” I retorted, trying to pull away.

“Don’t be a jerk. You’ll make this harder if you resist.”

“But that’s my problem. I’m here because I’m a jerk. You can’t damn people and expect them not to be jerks.”

“Do you think you deserve to be damned, John?” the host asked me. He cocked his head to one side.

“I think your show is stupid. But I’m finding that making fun of it and John’s wife Betty probably won’t help me win it.”

“You can’t win it, John. The outcome’s already set. This marathon’s just reruns. Your life is just rerun. The same thing over and over forever. Wake up. Eat. Sleep. And you lose every time. So why should this be different, hm?” Buddy dropped his voice low, but all at once, the studio lights flared, and he spun around to face the audience. “And we’re back!”

The soundstage went dark. The cheers stopped, and it was just me and Buddy, caught in a silent spotlight. Another lamp, mounted on a ceiling somewhere in the expanse of shadows above us, shined straight down, casting the refrigerator, the microwave, and the letters, in its fluorescent glow.

“It’s just us now, John. This is the bonus round. You get four letters. You have one chance to go up and complete the puzzle. And that’s it.”

_  F _ R _ _ _ _  M _  S _ _ _

I cast my gaze at Buddy, wavering a moment, before stepping uncertainly forward into the expanse. Although I could not see the floor beneath my feet, just deep darkness, I felt its steady weight as I moved to stare at the blanks.

An eternity passed as I stared. And maybe it had. At this moment, in this place, seconds and minutes and moments, they seemed to mean so little.

I forfeit my soul.

That was it. That was the joke.

I had already done it, I knew. I had become so wrapped in the misery of my own making that I had forfeited my very self to it. And willingly.

Choice. That was it, wasn’t it? I, willpower personified, exerting it in every wrong direction. And so, moving for the pile of letters, hands still bound, I pulled them out the microwave one at a time.

I stuck the magnets in place, whispering the words aloud as they appeared on the refrigerator. And only then, with a definitive nod, did I step back to see my handiwork.

I FORGIVE MYSELF

I awoke on the floor beneath the TV with a sudden, painful gasp.

The dude upstairs dropped something. I stared a good few seconds at the ceiling. And with that, I pressed back onto the carpet and laughed, a full hearty noise, the television set’s extension cord wrapped around my fingers.

Wrestling them free, I checked my reflection on Paula sparked the screen to be safe.

And taking a few more steadying breaths, I moved for my apartment door. I tugged it open to poke my head into the hallway, craning it up the stairwell to the sole unit above mine.

“Hey, pal? Do you need help up there?” 

[weltonreject]

Juniper and the Gardener

|| Juniper “Juno” Saint Catherine is always looking to be home, always waiting for his time at work to be over, for the time of his life to finally start up again. || ~3.8k words

Buy me a coffee || Other original writing || Thesis: Lost & Stolen

It wasn’t his poorest habit, but Juno frequently slept in his work clothes. He had only three pairs of nice slacks—as well as the fault of forgetting to send out his laundry in a timely manner. To counteract his own shortcomings, he did, however, make the change over from beige to black. The undone center crease—and other telling wrinkles—were better disguised and appeared to be from a long commute rather than a restless sleep and hurried walk; fifteen blocks to save the few bucks in bus fare.

Juno had fallen asleep with his beer bottle in hand, resting upright against his hip and without a single sip taken. Stella always tasted like piss to him anyway. Juno yawned and walked the bottle to the kitchenette sink, holding it upside down as he cracked his tense neck. The same fork was still in the sink from the night before. Not washed, or more preferably, joined by any other utensil. No other meal had been served, even for one, while he was slouched against the headboard.

It was nearly eight that morning. He wasn’t late, but he could be if he didn’t hurry. He’d already been demoted once that year. The office didn’t take very nicely to having to change his name on his paycheck, so they wanted to make sure any check they did have to send to Juno whoever was for as little as possible. Personally, Juno thought his last name—Catherine—was a delightful change. He took it graciously five years ago, relishing in silence up until five months prior.

With the bottle in the sink, Juno began yanking his arms out of his unbuttoned shirt. The cuffs were tight and folded his hands into cracking claws before slipping up the sleeves. He kept his other—ironed—shirts on the tall rack by the door. He chose the slimly cut maroon shirt—a favorite—and quickly hurried it closed as he stepped in front of the cracked mirror in the room’s foyer.

Oh, did he not remember ever turning thirty. Or looking thirty. Or, more so, now looking thirty-seven. With the cuffs unbuttoned now, Juno adjusted his thirty-sixth birthday present: a gold watch with a black face and shining numbers. They stayed shined, even under the glass and with countless swipes of the hour and minute hand over top. It was the cruelest birthday joke a lover had ever gotten him, but then again, the truth always had a way of being cruel. There was nothing to fold over and tuck under with the truth stretched out so finely in front of him. Ticking ever so softly on his wrist.

Every action, from the moment of waking, was a passing of time to get back the pale, antique hallways of The Quill Hotel and back to room 516. He’d been living there for fifteen years, everything the exact the same—even the sheets. After he’d stayed two consecutive weeks, Mrs. Gregory marked the inner tag of his bedding bag and made sure the same sheets returned to his room. One time, after nursing a broken, bleeding nose while propped up on three pillows, she asked about the blood she found. The note was on the hotel’s pale lilac stationary, neatly folded on his nightstand, giving him the number of a helpline if he was in trouble.

The stain was still there, fading with every wash. It was on the left side of the bed, Juno able to circle it whenever he slept alone.

Juno locked his room—the only room still having a traditional lock and not requiring a keycard— at eight fifteen. He was due in the office in fifteen minutes. He could make it with a pace of about a minute per block, provided Miss Rosanne didn’t have any new pictures of her grandchildren at the ready at the front desk. Juno took the hallway at an angled gait, trying to cushion his footsteps.

The carpet on the fifth floor was wearing spectacularly on the edge of the landing and down each step. The carpet was teal and purple, although now mostly just brown and gray. If anything, Juno preferred the faded colors to their original dye. The bright colors reminded him of far worse days. Hurrying to his room with far more embarrassment and anxiety about who could be tracking him across the same carpet, tainting the eager footsteps echoing his own all the way into his room and back to his bed.

Purple and a warped greened teal had bloomed on his own skin too often after such tracking. They never turned such a benign brown or gray, instead looking so yellow he feared a kind of rot growing from his shame. The frayed carpet had been kind to him, leading him out the front door every morning.

“Morning, Mister Catherine.” The gardener, Landis, greeted him almost immediately. He was kneeling on the other side of the hotel’s walkway. He was laying mulch, a small towel tucked against his knees. His work trousers were torn; the work of a stubborn rose, Juno was sure.

“Morning, Mister Fern.” Juno lifted a quick hand. His watch glinted in the morning sun, like a wink from under his jacket cuff. “Beautiful day.”

“Gorgeous.”

Spring had just started to poke through the blanketing cold fronts, warmth sighing in with the light breeze. Sun had melted the heavy, thick clouds and began peaking through like water through a frozen lake. It made the long walk to Juno’s office pleasant. He didn’t even think to misread the building’s sign of Campbell & Violet as Cramping & Violent that morning.

###

No one greeted Juno as he slipped his way to his desk. It made sense, though, seeing as everyone was on the phone with clients and hospitals and insurance firms. He didn’t expect anyone to cover their receivers and mouth a delighted Good morning! to him—of course not. Those that greeted him every morning in the hotel were obligated to do so. That was part of their job, too. Saying hello to the disgraced paralegal Juniper Saint Catherine was not a part of the job description of anyone in that office. Honestly, if it had been, Juno didn’t think he would’ve taken the job.

He savored his privacy. Juno thought of it something shareable. A set amount given to him, only able to be split and handed out like the segments of an orange. He thought about never starting on the peel, back when he was in his twenties. But then where would all that bitter sweetness go? Not to anyone that genuinely mattered. The vulnerability of sharing private moments would stay in thick, calloused isolation for the rest of Juno’s life. And he’d decided, by thirty, he wanted an orange grove.

“Catherine,” Someone said, swinging around their desk to his own. They relished in his new last name far too much. Juno heard something not quite delight in the spoken soft syllables of the surname. It was something like satire, like a joke only the man could hear. “Need that filing report done by morning meeting.”

“That’s less than…” Juno checked his watch, although already certain it wasn’t enough time. “That’s less than an hour.”

“Well, what can I tell you. Should’ve gotten here earlier.”

“I’m on time.” Juno didn’t expect to be correct. “I have a life outside of this office, you know.”

“And I’m sure you do.” The man—who’s name was irrelevant to Juno by that point—shrugged. “But when you’re here it’s our time, okay?”

“I’m not a fucking intern.” Juno grumbled, yanking open his desk drawer to gather his favorite pen and highlighter: another gift.

“Sorry? What was that?”

“I’m not an intern.” Juno over-enunciated. The man hadn’t expected Juno to repeat himself, to use company time to talk back. “I’m double your age and a grown fucking man. Don’t treat me like I haven’t figured out how to scrub my balls yet.”

It was a common complaint at home that Juno had too much of a sharp, grotesque tongue when he was angry. Then again, he wasn’t angry at home very often. He was out of practice.

The man blinked, considering the snap back. “Morning meeting.” He said finally. “I’ll do a longer schmooze bit in the beginning and buy you an extra ten minutes, if you should need it.”

Juno made the morning meeting, walking into the office with the report in one hand a large cup of coffee in the other. He looked at Son-of-the-Firm-Something-or-Other and made a very large charade of handing it over to the nameless man, who, as Juno realized was supposed to have it done himself.

Those extra ten minutes may not have been Juno’s to have, but as reparations, but they were ten minutes he’d converted into a stewing clip of embarrassment for What’s His Face.

It was enough to pass the next seven hours in petty delight.

###

Juno rushed home in a fast, more angular commute than the morning. He buried his hands in his front pockets and bent forward, hoping he’d stumble and find himself rolled over in the hotel’s flower garden. The hotel’s shadow would block out the sun and allow his disoriented look up at the sky to be clear and vivid. The gardener would be there, probably scolding him for crushing his work, but still helping him up and home.

The gardener was not out front when Juno crept inside. He ducked behind a family checking in to avoid Miss Roseanne. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the hotel staff—rather the opposite, considering his indefinite stay—but he was aching to be back in his room. To have time all to himself again.

In the middle of Juno discovering that his twist off beer bottle wasn’t twist off, someone knocked on his door. Juno only ever had one visitor. He paused the request for entrance with a swift bang on the hinged deadbolt—knocking the bottle cap clean off, without foaming over. Juno held the bottle out to his side and then answered the door.

The gardener stood in the hallway, gently playing with the bottom button of his denim jacket.

“You didn’t come over last night.” Juno said, stepping to the side and bracing his weight on the door.

“I finished late, hun, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You aren’t a bother and you know it.” Juno sighed. “Get in here.”

“I missed you.” Landis said, safely past the foyer of the room.

“You could start saying that instead of hello.” Juno muttered, locking the door again.

“It’s true. The moment I see you again, I realize how much I’ve missed you. That little ache goes away.”

The little ache: Landis’s sense that there was something else more important to be doing, or something out of place that couldn’t be seen, but needed to be fixed in order to continue. An obsessive thought that was completely silent but ran on a repeat. The ache was the record spinning around one more time.

“Why don’t you sit down, let me take off your boots.” Juno handed Landis his beer and pushed him back into the hotel’s teal green armchair.

Landis collapsed with a faint huff, letting out a low groan as Juno hoisted his leg onto his own bent knee. He tipped back his beer as Juno began unlacing his shoes. They were double-knotted, but also caked together with a thin layer of mud and mulch. Juno picked at them ferociously, not wincing when a splinter of wood got under his nailbed. He wanted to simply race to the point when he would free Landis’s foot and he would slip down lower in his chair.

“How was work today?” Landis asked. He rested the bottom of the bottle on his shoulder, his temple against the cool bottle neck.

“The same. Can’t get much worse.”

“I’m sorry, honey.”

The demotion hit Landis harder than it did Juno. Juno laughed his way out of the payroll office, thinking what idiots they were for not just firing him. He was still more talented than he was gay, apparently. Enough of both to keep around. Landis, on the other hand, felt it as a personal cut from his own hand onto Juno. It was his name he carried on his smaller paychecks. But also, as Juno had to point out it, it was also Landis’s name and his “fault” that Juno walked into pay roll with such a high skip in his step. They could have just enough of both too.

“It’s okay. I still have a job.” Juno brushed the flaked mud from his right knee before switching to bending his left. He started on the other knots. “And I still have you.”

“Those two things aren’t married; you’d have me even without the job. Maybe even have your old job if it wasn’t for me—”

“Oh, you’d love me even if I was unemployed?” Juno teased, running his hands up Landis’s calves. He squeezed his muscles, pulsing a quick massage over their undoubted aches. Landis groaned and yanked his legs back from Juno. He put his beer bottle on the floor by the back right leg.

“Get up here.” Landis straightened his posture and closed his leg, pressing his knees together. Juno stood and put his knees on either side of Landis’s thighs, just fitting against the curved sides and armrests. Landis slid his hands up the length of Juno’s back, feeling his muscles twitch as he squirmed; Landis always had cold hands. “I missed you so much today.” Landis rested his head against Juno’s cheek. He inhaled deeply, burrowing his nose into Juno’s neck. “I barely saw you—you were late for work, weren’t you?”

“Barely.”

“Be on time, if only for me. I want a good glimpse of my husband in the morning.”

Silence fell over them both. Not quite the same silence they kept when in public together, but a far sharper one. One with teeth and claws. One that left marks on them if they weren’t careful. One that the people around them swallowed when they would whisper.

“Only for my husband.” Juno promised, threading his fingers into Landis’s hair. The roots of his hair were still wet, after his cordial cleanup after landscaping. Juno always told him he didn’t have to clean up to see him. He’d always take him at his most well-worked, and kiss him just as deeply as the roots he’d planted.

Juno loved his husband more than any words were capable—but he knew he had to create them sometime. He couldn’t let their relationship stay liminal and simply for the “in-betweens”. This was Juno’s life, not anything else he attended just to simply see the hands of his watch swing all the way around and tell him he could return to his bedroom. Return to Landis’s arms: tanned, firm, and tired. Juno missed Landis, too, every moment of the day. But, more articulately, he missed his life.

How could any words ever say that?

“Why don’t we go to bed, hm?” Juno slid back, trying to get his feet on the ground without stumbling. “You must be tired, Handsome. Always working so hard.”

“I’m not tired.”

“No?”

“No.” Landis hoisted Juno up by his waist. “I can still make love to my husband.”

“Landis, no, it’s been a long few day for you--”

“And I miss you.”

Would it be selfish for that to be enough? For Juno to accept that he was enough of a reason to bring life back to their room, to their bed, to himself?

“I can’t tell if you want me to argue.” Juno laughed, covering his own mouth. He braced his other hand against Landis’s shoulder. “Because I won’t.”

“Only argue if you opposed to the ravishing.” Landis jokingly pretended to toss Juno backwards onto the bed but caught him again before easing him back onto his own feet. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“You said that yesterday.” Juno feared for a moment he was only worth a repetition. But then he saw the look on his husband’s face, the non-mourning loss in his eyes, as he got carried off by the teasing touch of Juno’s fingers on his collar.

“And I’ll say it again tomorrow.” Landis pressed against Juno, both of them braced by the bottom of the bedframe. “Always, until it stops being true.” He lifted Juno again, easing him over the frame’s edge. “Then I’ll tell you that I miss you right then and there, even when I can still see you on the sidewalk. I’ll tell you and never leave you alone.”

“Then how will you miss me?” Juno arched an eyebrow, letting himself be laid down on the new sheets.

“Unless I can have you like this, every moment, then there is always something to miss.” Landis climbed over the bedframe as well, not bothering the two steps to walk around to his side of the bed. On all fours, he shifted his weight from side to side, jokingly shaking the bed and jostling Juno.

“Every moment, huh?” Juno kept his eyebrow raised, adding Landis’s favorite smirk—the one that got them to the same position fifteen years ago. “Aren’t you getting a bit old for that, Handsome?”

Landis didn’t respond and slipped his hands back under Juno, cradling his back against the mattress. Between the shirt and the blankets, his hands warmed and were almost like liquid curling around Juno’s spine. Openly, and stupidly, he moaned into the static silence of room 516. The warmth of being held was more than enough to convince Juno that age had noting to do with them. Love—the way they created it, made it, held it, nurtured it—didn’t age and didn’t age them. It was the ultimate elixir, and Juno was nearly intoxicated with it. His hands grappled with Landis’s shirt, pulling his body flush against his own.

“I keep falling asleep in my clothes.” Juno said into his husband’s ear. “Why don’t you undress me?”

###

Juno and Landis slept stretched over one another. Arms latticed together like they were trying to meld back together in their unconscious state and keep the impending separation from even the realm of possibility. What would—hell, could—anyone do if he was sutured at the hip to Landis as he reported to the other landscapers not much before dawn. Juno would love to kneel in the damp, malleable earth with his husband and mold mulch around baby sprouts and loose roots. The rings of dirt on their fingers and palms would be more sacred than a wedding band. Even in disguising it, they could wash each other’s hands—one caressing over the other—and watch their joint work swirl down the drain. At least Juno wouldn’t have to spend his day alone.

A knock startled Juno, nearly causing him to dislocate Landis’s shoulder. For once, Juno was ungrateful to not have been wearing his work clothes.

“Be right there!” He called, scrambling for his robe. He’d left it just outside the shower, wrinkled and still damp from two sets of feet stomping all over it.

“Mister Fern?”

“Are they talking to me?” Landis grumbled, rolling over.

“Don’t be so arrogant, I had the name first.” Juno whispered, tying the robe closed. He didn’t even check the mirror for any red marks on the curve of his neck or behind his ear. If he stood in the opening, the door didn’t reveal his bed. “Hello?” Juno didn’t even know what time it was.

“My wife sent me over.” The man in the hallway was older than Juno, in his own robe, and smiling just as anxiously as Juno felt.

“I’m sorry I don’t know your wife.” Juno cocked his head to the side, blocking the wandering eye of the other tenant. “Terribly sorry if she knows me.”

“I asked the front desk for your name.”

“You asked the front desk for me? I can’t possibly be that famous.” Juno repeated the man for Landis’s benefit. He could posit his theory for the disturbance the moment Juno closed the door over.

“This slipped under our newspaper this morning—I think it was kicked under on your way out the door.” Henry held out a note on the hotel stationary.

He expected to see Landis’s handwriting delicately fitted onto the top third of the paper, refusing to stretch over more than it had to. Instead, it was from a typewriter. It was a note celebrating another year at the hotel. Now, sixteen years in the same room.

The number shook Juno as he stood in his doorway, the man looking at him for some kind of explanation or calming words.

He spoke instead. “Sixteen, huh? Wow. You definitely settled down, didn’t you? Got a roof over your head.”

“Yeah. Yeah I do.” Juno nodded, finding a smile somewhere in his quivering lips. “Settled down just fine. Faster than I expected, too.”

“Hope there’s someone worth sharing it with, even if it’s rented.” The older man said with a short nod to his own door. “Sorry to interrupt your evening, Mister Fern. Have a lovely stay… At home.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Juno folded the paper over, his fingers sounding rough over the cardstock. “For returning my mail, too. Good night.”

Juno closed the door over and read the note again. Sixteen years in the hotel, in the same room, with the same man. It was like a strange sort of birthday card. The anniversary telling him just how many years, those that came before, could be discarded. Those that were lived but lifeless.

Juno had no idea the time, no idea the hours he had left with Landis in their—his—bed. He struggled to ration how much time he should stay away in order to compile memories of Landis as he slept awkwardly twisted and bent while on his stomach, reaching for Juno’s still-moving body. There was so much to find new, even after sixteen years of evenings just like this one.

The thing that was always the same though, thankfully, was Landis’s inability to snore.

His soft, airy breathing, slow and even—nearly an audible pattern. Like a set clock of Juno’s very own kind. The only kind of clock that wasn’t counting down, or keeping any sort of time, just keeping rhythm and routine. Juno decided he only wanted to know that time, and laid against the other pillow, facing his husband.

“Good night, Mister Landis Fern.”

“Good night, My Juniper Catherine.”

“I miss you.” Juno said, closing his eyes. “Wake me when you go.”

[imagine-loki]

Caught in his web, Chapter 48

TITLE: Caught in his web CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 48 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki is a crime lord, a very dangerous man in the city. He is owed money, but the man is unable to pay Loki back, so Loki takes his daughter as payment instead.  RATING: M

Chloe’s uneasiness after Loki taking her up the ass was soon gone by morning as Loki showered her in soft kisses and praise.

‘I love you so much, my darling Chloe. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?’ He purred, hugging her close and kissing her gently on the lips.

‘I love you too.’ She smiled against him.

He was very affectionate that morning. Whenever she tried to get out of bed, he would playfully pull her back down, tickling her and nibbling on her neck while growling. She loved that side of him, playful and sweet.

Eventually Loki allowed her to get up so she could go check on Bear. When she came back, Loki was just getting off the phone.

‘Who was that?’ She asked curiously, sitting on the edge of the bed.

‘It was Ben. Just asking what time our meeting is this afternoon.’ Loki groaned and stretched up, then rolled over onto his side and hooked an arm around her.

‘Ben’s nice. I like him and David.’ Chloe smiled and lay down, on Loki’s side.

‘Glad to hear you like my friends.’ He chuckled.

‘When use aren’t speaking about business, that is.’ She corrected.

Chloe’s phone pinged. Loki reached over and grabbed it off the bedside table and handed it to Chloe.

‘Thanks.’

‘Amanda?’ Loki asked.

‘Yep. Asking if I want to go shopping later and to grab dinner… Did you have any plans?’ She looked to Loki.

‘Nope. You go and have fun with your friend. Just don’t stay out too late though and take Ralph with you, have him keep an eye.’ Loki said firmly, sitting up he kissed the top of her head.

‘Why the paranoia? Is there something wrong?’ Chloe frowned.

‘No… I just feel that your father has been awful quiet lately. I just want you to be safe, doll.’ He said softly, smoothing his hand down her back.

‘Ok.’ She nodded.

Loki didn’t want to tell her that the main reason being was he just had a bad feeling in general, so didn’t want to take any unnecessary risks. Especially with Chloe involved.

When Chloe went to get dressed, she went to the bathroom first. A certain part of her was a bit on the tender side… But she tried not to think about that. Loki did make her cum while fucking her up the ass, that was all she would think about. And she knew it would likely get a bit easier and more pleasurable for her the more it happened.

Or she hoped so, anyway.

-

When Chloe went to meet Amanda, Loki headed into his office with Ethan and Samuel. David was already there and so was Ben.

‘Are we allowed to speak business today?’ Ben teased, grinning.

‘Shut up.’ Loki hissed, sitting down behind his desk. ‘What have we got today then?’

‘We have an issue with one of the new girls in the Camden shop. Keeps trying to escape, tried to kill herself too last night. The owner of that shop doesn’t want to keep her because she’s more hassle than she’s worth.’ Ben said.

‘Hmm. Maybe we need to sell her on. Get in touch with our German friends, see if they’re looking to buy right now. I’m sure we can rustle up some more girls to make it worth their while of organising transport to collect. Check around all the shops, check if any of them want rid. Ben, can I leave that up to you to sort? Get some ready for Tuesday.’ Loki asked.

‘Sure thing.’ Ben nodded in agreement.

‘Can we trust them to give us a fair price for the girls? What if we send them over and get pennies worth?’ David said.

‘We can trust them. I know something that could tear them down, they won’t mess us around. We will get more than a fair price. Trust me.’ Loki grinned.

‘Alright, you’re the boss.’

‘Judging by last night, I think Chloe is the boss.’ Ben grinned.

Loki rolled his eyes at them.

‘What is she up to today anyway?’ Ben asked.

‘She’s out shopping with one of her friends. They’re going for dinner too, so I don’t have to rush home.’ Loki sighed.

‘Aww, is your girl not there to cook your dinner.’ Ben pouted, mocking him.

‘You’re walking on thin ice, Barnes.’ Loki growled, pointing at him.

-

Chloe had fun with Amanda. As usual going to town on Loki’s card, spending wayyy more than she probably should’ve. But after last night, Chloe was of the mind frame that if he wanted to do that kind of stuff with her, then he would take a hit on his bank balance in return. Besides, she knew if he was pissed off with how much she spent that she could just suck his cock to get him to forgive her. Not that he was ever angry with how much she spent, he always encouraged it, actually.

But she and her friends always had fun trying to push that limit more and more at every shopping trip.

They went for dinner at a nice Chinese buffet restaurant.

‘Why is Ralph loitering around outside?’ Amanda asked, slurping up some noodles.

‘I dunno. Loki had him come with me and keep an eye. He goes through weird phases where he wants eyes on me, in-case of my father or fuck knows what. Ralph is nice enough though. I feel for him sometimes though, having to follow me about like a dog. Maybe I should get him some takeaway?’

Amanda shrugged. ‘It’s Loki’s money anyway.’

After finishing, Chloe did get a takeaway box and took it out for Ralph. He was very appreciative. They then headed back to the car.

On the way there, they bumped into a familiar face.

‘Hello, darling.’ Ben smiled, stopping when he saw her.

‘Ben, hi! Not seen you in ages!’ Chloe teased, making him laugh.

Chloe noticed Amanda visibly swoon when she introduced her to Ben.

‘Are you ladies finished shopping for the day?’

‘Yeah, just heading home now.’ Chloe nodded.

‘I can give you a lift home, if you’d like? Since I’m heading to meet with Loki anyway.’ He offered.

‘I thought your meeting with him was earlier?’ Chloe asked.

‘It was, but I had to re-arrange.’ Ben smiled.

‘I have Ralph here to take me home, once we drop Amanda off.’

‘Well, it will save Ralph taking Amanda home then having to drop you off, then doubling back across the city to his own home.’ He turned his attention to Ralph. ‘Would that be easier for you, mate?’

‘It’s up to Chloe. I don’t mind at all, Sir.’ Ralph said politely.

‘Alright then. If you’re sure. It does make sense.’ Chloe smiled, she looked to Amanda. ‘That alright with you?’

‘Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow at college.’ Amanda gave Chloe a hug before getting into the car with Ralph.

Ben offered Chloe his arm, being gentlemanly. She accepted it and went along with him happily.

-

Loki was sitting on the sofa in the living room with a whiskey. He was tapping the glass as he checked his watch for what felt like the millionth time.

‘Where is she?’ She muttered to himself.

It was almost nine and he had thought Chloe would’ve been home by now.

He took out his phone and tried calling her, but it went straight to voicemail. He frowned at his phone. ‘Odd.’

Then he thought maybe she had just gone to the cinema and turned it off… So he tried calling Ralph instead.

‘Hi, boss. What’s up?’ Ralph asked cheerily.

‘Is Chloe in the cinema?’ Loki asked.

‘No… She should be home, why?’ Ralph asked, sounding slightly concerned.

‘What? What time did you drop her off?’ Loki stood up quickly, accidentally knocking his whiskey glass off the arm of the sofa in the process and it spilled over the carpet.

‘I… I didn’t. Last I saw her was around half six, in the car park at the shopping centre. She went with Ben, he said he was going to take her home as he had a meeting with you.’

Loki felt his blood run cold.

‘Get. Here. Now.’

[sword-dad-fukuzawa]

Order of the Clock Tower OCs

Welp, apparently y’all are interested in seeing them. They’re still in development so their abilities and personalities are subject to change as I try to write them. I originally made them because I needed cannon fodder but...I committed the great sin every writer ends up committing at least once. 

I got attached. 

If you’re here because you’re actually reading my fic, I would definitely suggest not reading on, because spoilers :p

---------------------

C.S. Lewis is a tall young woman who wears her brown hair in low pigtails (think Tsunade) and has dark skin. Her ability is White Witch, and she can petrify people with a touch (The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe flashbacks). She can undo the petrification, too. But what ends up happening is that the body heat of her victim slowly drains out and into her, so she’s always at risk of heatstroke. Consequently, she’s almost always warm. 

She likes to wear silly crop tops and shorts. Personality-wise, she’s the Order’s bubbly plant mom who’s very passionate about justice. No one is safe from her wrath if someone pisses her off. And she has a massive crush on Lewis Carroll, a crush he encourages at every turn. She’s kinda spacey, but she means well. 

George Orwell is a lanky man who wears khaki cargo shorts and a white tanktop, because he stole his aesthetic from Atlantis’s Milo. He has a pair of binoculars in his pocket almost always, and his personality is easily summed up as “tired and grumpy”. His ability, Animal Farm, lets him talk to animals. He usually only speaks to birds, though, and uses them to spy on people (because 1984 surveillance themes). The catch is, he can’t control them. He ends up bribing them with premium birdseed or threatening them into compliance, usually by borrowing Carroll’s sword. 

He washed out of uni (this happened to IRL Orwell) and joined the Clock Tower as a result. Even though his coworkers are batshit insane and tire him out, he would do absolutely anything to keep them safe. He likes coffee and talking shit about his coworkers with Coleridge’s albatross, whose name is Mary and who likes Orwell better than her owner. 

Samuel Taylor Coleridge has dark hair in a Sokka-hairstyle, and he wears a biker jacket with a red v-neck and skinny jeans. His ability, The Albatross, manifests as an albatross named Mary (named after his IRL wife). He’s always arguing with Orwell over whose bird is better, because Orwell’s little spy-birds could never measure up to the pinnacle of bird-hood that is Mary. If someone causes physical harm to his familiar, they’re cursed with terrible luck for 48 hours. 

He’s like Twain (himbo energy), but British and so slightly classier. Unfortunately, he’s also kind of a druggie (he was addicted to opium IRL) who somehow got his hands on LSD. He gets inspiration for his curses from his trips and is always trying to get Carroll to trip with him. As a recovering addict, all this really does is piss Carroll off and get Lewis on his ass. He’s not anyone’s favorite, but he’s a great shot in a fight. 

Lewis Carroll has pale, windswept grey hair and colorless eyes. His ability, Through the Looking Glass, lets him walk into any reflective surface. He’s the only one who can enter his mirror world. He likes to surprise and prank people by appearing unexpectedly in the nearest reflective surface. Once, he showed up in a puddle in Orwell’s shower. Orwell just kind of sighed at him. 

He’s the extrovert who adopted John Milton and he has a sword (Jabberwocky, heh). When he waves it around it goes “snicker snack” and everyone has tried to make it shut up at least once, to no avail. Orwell is of the opinion that his sword is just as obnoxious as his owner, but borrows the sword to threaten his birds into compliance anyway. 

John Milton has light brown hair and heterochromia, with one green and one brown eye. He likes wearing sweater vests. His ability, Paradise Lost, lets him see a few hours into the future of people who he can see. (Because Paradise Lost is Milton rewriting the Bible...just from someone else’s POV.) It’s finicky and he can’t control it, so going out into public gives him migraines and sensory overload. He usually locks himself in his office with his eyes closed when he’s not on duty, and when he is on duty, he wears a blind fold. 

He’s also quiet and shy. Carroll’s his best friend, because he’s always hanging out with Milton. Paradise Lost doesn’t work if there’s an obstruction, and Carroll’s mirrors mean there’s enough of a barrier to stop his future sight from working. He likes to lie facedown on his comfy office carpet and shut out the world. 

Mary Shelley stole her aesthetic from K’s Anna Kushina. She’s very goth, with a long black dress and chunky platform heels. She’s quiet, soft-spoken, and very posh. Her ability, Prometheus, allows her to reanimate the corpses of people who died tragically. Did I steal this from Akame ga Kill’s Kurome? Perhaps. 

She likes to read a lot, and her and Orwell often bond because they’re the least batshit out of their coworkers. Her favorite tea is earl grey with lemon and she’s also fond of Orwell’s birds. 

Man, I really am kind of derivative. I take inspo from a lot of different anime, as y’all can see. I’m currently working on finishing up J. M. Barrie and William Golding. And, because why not, J. K. Rowling. 

;)

[sticks-and-stone]

Bronson’s Camp Outlaw

April 10, 2020 - April 12, 2020

For the April 2020 camping trip, I took my girlfriend to Bronson’s Camp Outlaw. This was an interesting trip to plan because I had never been there and didn’t know anyone that had. I found them on an app called HipCamp which is basically an AirBnB for camping. You pay money to sleep in someone's backyard. Obviously this idea rang a little weird for me, but I figured with the state parks closed for COVID-19, I had few options. I spent a long time deciding on a “campground”. I looked through reviews for hours before I decided on Bronsons. And honestly, for the price I paid, it was a really great find. 

Madison and I drove down right after work on Friday. When we arrived, the mom and pop type vibe bled through hard. There was a house at the top of the hill as we arrived. I assumed (incorrectly) that this was the office to check-in. As I walked up to it, a man came over to me and asked if I was checking in. He then directed me to this grassed area right on the water’s edge that had a wood pile, a fire pit, lots of seats, and two pop up canopies. 

It took them a while to find my reservation. Apparently husband books on HipCamp and wife books on Facebook. This caused some confusion and they did not know where to put me. I ended up following the wife and the first dude (we’ll call him Buddy because I can not remember his name) to the long row of river-side “campsites”. I only put this in quotations because there were no markers or indications where one site started and the other ended. 

We chose our site at the end of the row of tents and cars and began to map out how we would set up. I had the camping carpet and the site was about the size of it and absolutely overrun with cypress roots (the ones that stick up and come to a rounded point out of the ground). This made the setup pretty odd, but we made it work.

Instead of placing the carpet out in front of the tent, we placed it completely under the tent. This allowed it to double as our footprint too, luckily, due to the small nature of our tent, we were able to find a small plot of dirt without cypress roots so we wouldn't have to sleep on top of them. 

As we got set up, Buddy and Deb (the owner) kept coming around to see if we needed any help. I guess two girls doing this alone made us look vulnerable? We kept declining. I bought some firewood and Buddy brought it to our site for us. I asked where I could dig a fire pit (there was no grill or fire ring) and they just kind of shrugged and said “anywhere you want, don’t be dumb though”. So that was neat. 

Once we got the tent completely set up, I found a spot that split the difference between the tent and the river bank our site overlooked and dug a shallow hole and started a fire. By this point it was dark. 

A quick shout out to one of the game changing pieces of gear this trip: clip-on lights for hats. Since trip #2 I have sworn that I would never go camping without a headlamp, but this took it even a step further. These little lights clipped to our hat bills, completely eliminating the need for a headlamp. No more messing up my hair or squeezing my head! And the best part? $1 each at Walmart. 

So with the new help of my hat clip light I got the fire started and we ate the sandwiches that Madison got from Publix earlier in the day before I got off of work. The next thing I worked on was the other game changer for this trip: fishing poles! I grabbed two small Zebcos rod and reel combos from Walmart for a measly $10 each and a small tackle kit for about $12!  I used my lap and the fold out table (there was no picnic table on site) to get the poles all set up. Our site sat literal feet from the water’s edge so I was excited to throw a line out at daybreak the next day.

Madison ended up going to sleep before me while I stayed up and took in my surroundings. I couldn’t see much due to the dark, but I could smell the river in front and behind me. (the sites lined a sort-of peninsular so there was water everywhere) My neighbors (arguably too close to us for comfort) were actually really nice and proved helpful the next day with our fishing lessons. They ran their van all night but the humming noise was quite lulling. I loved looking out on the dark water and seeing the occasional top feeder break the surface. It was peaceful. The sites were smaller than I was used to and lacked my usual amenities, but I liked this place. I liked the whole vibe. 

I went to bed and fell asleep instantly. I woke up before the sun and decided to walk alone in the dark to the bathroom. The bathroom was a glorified outhouse. Which bothers me NONE. It’s camping. You walk in the room to a concrete floor, soaked. A pedestal sink - dingy, a “shower” which was basically a hose coming through the wall and a shower curtain, then finally, a toilet. It was pretty gross and definitely a hovering situation, but again; its camping. I was just happy enough to have a private place to pee. Due to the closeness of our site neighbors and the comfortable vicinity to the bathhouse, I never bothered to set up the pop up potty. 

I got back to the site, started a fire, and waited for sunrise. As soon as the day broke, I threw a line out next to this big tree at the edge of the water on our site. Then Madison woke up and joined me and we had a little breakfast and I had coffee. We spent the entire day fishing off and on. I got some writing done, she read her book, and we just lounged around the river's edge and watched people come and go on kayaks and boats. It was a great day. I caught some brim, Madison caught a few too, we befriended a lot of strangers, and watched kids swim in the water next to the boat launch over by check-in. It was a great day. Madison really took to fishing and fell in love with it. We ended up going through all of our hooks and bobbers though. We kept getting snagged on the brush and losing equipment. The little dock near our site became very useful. We had lots of success fishing with bread and hotdogs (left by our neighbors).

We headed to bed early like I tend to do on night two of camping trips, around 9pm. But right as we were laying down, a family of 4 pulled up in an F350 with its brights on and began setting up right next to us. They kept apologizing for the noise and lights, but it was hard to be angry after the great day we had. They blocked my car in, but promised to move their truck before morning - they didn’t. Their tent was huge - one of those multiroom deals and I have no idea how they set it up with cypress roots everywhere but they did it. Madison and I sat up in our beds (we switched the second night so she could try the cot) and made up backstories for them and made fun of their very awkward teenage children. 

The next morning I had to pee really bad as I woke up and had to wait outside the bathroom for the mom of that family who apparently was applying makeup in the ONLY BATHROOM THE CAMPGROUND HAD. I was pissed, but I dealt with it. We threw another couple of lines out, but worked pretty quickly to get packed up and headed out. It didn’t take long to pack up as we didn’t unpack much. Without a table or big enough site, there wasn’t much to unpack. I did most of the cleaning up and packed myself, though Madison did sweep the tent out which is my least favorite camping chore. So that was nice. We got out quickly, dropped our trash at the dumpster, and headed to McDonalds for a real meal, then home to nap. 

The size and conditions of the sites were tricky, the sites were too close together, and I would have had a better time if I had kayaks with me,  but we made it work. I plan to go back to Bronsons in the future with Jenna, but I want to continue to improve our gear first.  But for a last-minute rush trip, it was pretty great. 

Stay Dirty, 

Stone. 

[captainjimothycarter]

Can you do Peggy protecting a teenaged Tony when she happens to be present for a heated argument between himself and Howard?

Oooh, let’s see if I could do this justice.

--

Of course, the one time she needed the bastard, he was nowhere around. All she needed was his review and signature on the final projects to open up a well-needed branch of S.H.EI.L.D and Howard had disappeared God knows where. He wasn’t home or if he was – he was well ignoring her by this point.

Not that she hasn’t called his phone fifteen times in the last half hour. The last she wanted to do was make the extensive drive to the Stark Manor. Not that she didn’t enjoy the Manor or seeing Jarvis again or even her godson, but she was simply tired after a long day and had looked forward to soaking in a hot tub.

The more she delayed laying  in a hot tub, the antsier she got about having to drive an hour out of the way thanks to Howard disappearing from his office.

Sighing heavily, Peggy hoisted herself out of the car and leaned onto her good side as she walked towards the marble steps. She was greeted to a half-opened door and the sight of a train wreck past the entrance hall.

A black sludge was all over the carpet, staining the material, the walls, and oil-coated the bottom of her shoes, causing Peggy to slip and have to catch herself on the wall. She cursed under her breath as she followed the path of this mayhem.

Whatever had happened, it wasn’t good because she could hear Howard’s strained voice yelling already. Really, that man had quite a temper on him.

“-idea of what you’ve done! You’re being selfish!”

“Selfish? Me?! You’re the peek preview of selfishness! Sending your only son off to private school for three years because you didn’t want anything to do with me!” There was a sound of glass breaking and her godson cursing.

“Control that goddamn thing. Why in the hell is it even in here?! I thought I told you –“

“I thought you told me you’d be a better parent his mom died but your sixth scotch of the day says otherwise.”

The sound of skin-hitting skin and heavy glass shattering as Peggy bursting through the office door, barely catching her godson as he stumbled back. Howard stood in front of them, his hand still raised, the bottle of scotch now broken against the wall, and dripping the expensive liquid onto the hard floor.

Tony was already a good foot taller than her in his linky stage, but that didn’t stop Peggy from grasping his shoulders like he was still a child and preventing him from leaving.

“Let me see,” she demanded, tilting his head up with her fingertips, like he was a child and had gotten into his first fight. Her eyes hardened at the sight of the bruise already coming in, Tony’s cheek flushed a shade of red.

“What’s this about, Howard?” She held onto his arm, preventing Tony from leaving despite how he wanted to. She could feel him tugging. “Howard!”

The man looked stunned like he was surprised he’d did such a thing. Slap his own son. He looked from Tony, to Peggy, not one bit surprised she was here.

“This doesn’t concern you, Pegs,” he grumbled, waving his hand towards Peggy, finally regaining himself and sitting back behind the heavy oak desk. “Whatever you’re here for, just leave, I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“Oh, you will not just do it tomorrow. You’re telling me what the hell is wrong and happened here – enough to hit my godson!”

“Your godson? About the only use he’s got,” Howard mumbled, rolling his eyes. “How’s that leg, Pegs? Still aching yah after you tore your tendon? How’s dear ole Sousa? Still limping around?”

He was drunk and trying to raise her to fight. To get angry. The injury had happened on his watch and Howard had never quite let go of that guilt. She wasn’t out of commission just yet, but the field missions the Director allowed herself on had dropped to zilch.

“Sousa died six years ago and you know it,” she spat, still holding tightly to Tony’s arm. “Why did you slap Tony?”

The answer came in form of something…well, robotic and ugly running between her legs. It looked like a demented baby doll, just minus anything baby doll quality and leaking oil as it ran down the hall. She looked up at Tony who was carefully avoiding her eyes and watched him shrug.

“That thing,” Howard grumbled, capturing her attention. “Destroyed the house and that boy won't’ take responsibility for it. Maria was too soft on him in my opinion. Piece of crap can’t even do-”

“Shut it,” Tony snarled, gritting his teeth and glaring at Howard. “Why don’t you tell her the real reason you’re so piss-ass drunk all the time? The real reason mom died? So she didn’t have to put up with you! Go on, Howard, tell her!”

Howard looked like he was getting ready to punch both of them this time, Peggy unconsciously putting herself between him and Tony. “Shut up.”

“Shut up? Why? So Auntie doesn’t know what a piece of shit you are? So she doesn’t know what the hell you’ve done? Tell her! Or I’m going to – tell her before I do.”

When Howard stood up, throwing the chair back, Peggy shoved Tony to the side and glared at Howard. She took three steps forward and he had enough sense to fall back against the wall, looking green. For one second she thought he was going to vomit up all that expensive amber liquid before swallowing it down.

“I sunk the company.”

“You what?” Peggy breathed, looking from him to Tony for an explanation. “What?!”

“The great Howard Stark, CEO of Stark Industries sunk the company. All that support for your job, Auntie, those deals you depended on, the-the stability, the backup, your business partner ruined. All for his own selfish need! He-he’s only barely surviving from a-a business partner buying it out and taking control.”

Peggy’s breath was caught in her throat. Stark Industries was sunk? Done for? What did this mean for SHIELD? Of course, SHIELD was now at a standpoint where she could run and handle things without Howard’s involvement but still, there was that what if…

“What did you do, Howard?” Peggy’s voice was hard, leaving no room for argument.

“I sent Tony away. He was a-a burden. Maria was dying. Didn’t care. Didn’t want the boy around. Just wanted to focus on…stuff. Focus on-on…” He looked sick again and was digging around in his desk before slapping several sheets of folded paper onto the desk.

Peggy’s fingers snatched it up before Tony could pull it away. A gasp escaped her lips as she read over the paperwork and Tony read over her shoulder.

It was selfish, what she did next, the fury, the anger that filled her. She didn’t even know what she was doing until Howard was knocked against the wall, his nose bleeding from her fist.

“You made a promise to me in 1946 – we made a promise to Steve! To Erksine! And you turned your back for profit?!”

“Not only that – he got angry cause I found his documents on recent travels,” Tony continued, sounding smug. “He let mom die so he could focus on finding Captain Rogers.”

She wanted to cry, to scream, to attack Howard until she felt better but there would be no use for it. “I miss Steve,” she told Howard, feeling Tony’s eyes on her. “I miss him more than you understand but you sacrificing your wife’s, Anthony’s mother for this obsession, Steve would be disappointed in you. Perhaps even hate you. He would not want that. You’re no longer the man Steven remembers and neither do I. I have held too much onto memories and that proves – this proves that you’re too lost to help.”

She turned back to Anthony, nursing the swollen hand to her chest. “You don’t have to stay here. My door is always open for you. I think Mr. Sprinkles has missed you.”

Tony’s lips twitched at her-his old kitten missing him. “I missed him too.” He didn’t even look back at Howard as they left, closing the door behind them. He paused in the entrance hall to hug Peggy tightly to his chest, not knowing what to say.

“Captain Rogers…he wouldn’t have wanted this,” he finally whispered as they parted. “But he’d be proud of you, Auntie. I just know it.”