#whenever i tried to think my mind would wander to suicidal thoughts. also because i just didn't have the energy

[scarletcomet]

today and yesterday have been a bit better than any days have been in a long time (since this current depressive episode started). i still frequently have suicidal thoughts, but they are less constant than they have been. i’ve been able to get some schoolwork done, which is a huge improvement. i know this is all good, but i feel kind of weird about it. i want to feel better because feeling really shitty sucks. however, i think because i really want to kill myself, i don’t want to get better. i really just want to die, so i don’t want to be able to take care of myself and do things.

[amisplaceddwelf]

Archetrope: Why a ronin

Source

I probably mentioned before that I like the concept of archetrophy because of its broadness. And then I go and pick a very historically grounded and culturally specific figure as an archetrope. Alright, let me explain.

When I was thinking of the role I felt most comfortable with, marginal figures always came to mind. Pirates, outlaws, wolfheads. I enjoy the periphery. There's a special kind of pleasure in being able to observe, learn and dissapear whenever I please.

If this is the case, why not say I'm simply a wanderer? I tried it for a while, but it felt incomplete. Wandering where? Why? Ronin, on the other hand, provide a very specific reason for their travels that really resonates with me. Thing is, I'm not naturally a rebel without a cause. In fact, it used to be the contrary. I played by the book. I was agreeable. Obedient. Loyal. There's nothing wrong with those traits of course, but in my case I happened to put them in the wrong place.

Eventually, realizing my devotion and love would never be reciprocated in that context was definitely traumatic. I had spent my whole life up until that point fighting for the wrong side, and now I had to choose. So did samurai, when they lost their lord or brought dishonor to themselves or their clan. The most reasonable choice for them was ritual suicide. A way of leaving with dignity. I was very young, enjoyed reading stories more than anything else, and thought taking my life should be the correct choice for me too.

Turned out I wasn't only young but also pretty ignorant, and I overestimated my capacities. I couldn't do it. I remembered that happened as well to some samurai, the cowards, the renegades, the worst of the worst. The ones that traded life for dignity. The ones that had to carry the shame of daring to breathe in a world where their lord no longer did, but also the ones that were gifted a second chance, the perfect blank page to decide from there on the trace of their own path.

Freedom. Something I hadn't truly ever desired before.

I gave it a try because I had nothing to lose, and the effect was intoxicating. Little did the social shunning that came matter, now that I had that delicious sensation on the tip of my tongue. I could decide how to speak. How to dress. How to think. It was too envigorating to let it go, so I didn't. I no longer had to. I could look into my old lord's eyes and tell them: if you don't want me, that's fine. But from now not you, nor anyone will hold the power to decide who I can be. I am my own ruler now.

Ronin are important to me because since I've learnt freedom is not only a delightful treat. It is a space I have to defend tooth and nail everyday. I don't forget where I came from, and sometimes I still recognize the old loyalty and sense of duty creep up on me. But now, I can choose who is worthy of them.

[dreamkidddream]

Not a request, just because I was bored and putting off all my homework lol. Reader is gender neutral! I also might do this for some other characters too 👀

TW: small mention of suicide (its Dazai) but nothing graphic is mentioned

Jealousy Headcanons with: Dazai and Kunikida

Dazai

Dazai doesn’t get jealous

Or at least that what he tells himself

He could get anyone that he wanted, no problem. I mean, hello??? Have you seen this man???

Not to mention how much of a natural flirt he is himself

So why does he feel himself getting livid with this stranger taking up your time?

Now, Dazai was not an insecure man, by any means. But he couldn’t help but feel his stomach churn when he saw you smiling back at this person. A smile that he wants reserved for him and only him

You guys weren’t together yet, but he will make sure that people know that you are off limits. You may not take his advances as genuine, but his feelings for you are and he can easily prove that to you. You’re his and he’s yours; it wasn’t official per say, but he’s only giving his time and affection towards you

It seemed like he was vying for your attention, but he knew that he could easily turn the whole situation on its head. They may think that they’re in control, but Dazai can show just how wrong they really are

Flustering you in front of the individual would be one of his best (and favorite) methods to use. Seeing how embarrassed and bashful you would get while the other person would just be ignored was a good feeling; and usually that would be the sign that they should go elsewhere

If that didn’t work, trying to leave the scene did: “(Naaaammmme), this is the perfect time to commit double suicide with me! Being the last lovely sight that I lay my eyes on would be more than just a dying wish.” “Belladonna, the stars are beautiful during this time, why don’t we go see for ourselves?” “This place is boring, let’s go somewhere else where we can really have fun, no interruptions.”

While he wasn’t the same man as he was from his past, that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t find ways to solve this little problem. He just won’t be messy. He’s turned over a new leaf, and he rather not get anymore blood on his hands if he doesn’t have to

He just has to get a bit creative with his words and his methods; no violence necessary!

Unless the other person was making you uncomfortable (God forbid hurting you) and not taking the hint that you were his, but let’s just hope that it never comes to that

Dazai didn’t want to lose you period, and he will be damned before he loses you to someone else that he doesn’t even see as a threat. Eventually very soon though, he’ll lose his patience, so don’t keep brushing him off or seem like you’re interested with someone that’s not him. He’ll be forced to take action, so be careful

Don’t worry though, he won’t be hurting anyone! Not controlling either, just...possessive. Very possessive, atleast for a couple of days.

Not that either one of you would be complaining

Kunikida

He’s a busy man, he doesn’t have time to get jealous! Besides, according to his notebook you don’t have-

Who is that? And why are they giving you flowers? And candy? And they’re even giving you a kiss on the cheek?! You never said that you were dating someone! How could someone take you from him!-

Sir that’s not even their boyfriend it’s just an older cousin who came as a surprise visit

Kunikida has fallen for you, and hard, and that scares him. Yes, you’re a great coworker, one that he can always depend on. And yes, you always bring a small smile to his face whenever you greet him in the mornings. And yes, you became a part of the day that he is always looking forward to (even wrote your planned interactions in his notebook) every day. But...you didn’t meet all 58 of his ideals

Could you really be his ideal partner when you barely met any of the conditions? Would he be prepared to give you his everything if you were?

Which he already knew the answer to: YES

So he tried to put his feelings aside and strictly focus on work (not that he already wasn’t, of course). But damn it, was it hard to conceal his true emotions when he had to see people that weren’t him making you happy. And it seemed that others took notice of his more than sour mood too. It was miserable to see more than anything

So being the best partner that he is (and that the answer is so obvious), Dazai pulled him to the side and calmly explained to him what he was feeling...

SIKE this is Dazai we’re talking about. While he did want to help his dear friend out, he wanted this to be entertaining.

Give it up for Dazai always trolling this man and Kunikida falling for it everytime lmao

Kunikida didn’t believe it was jealously at first, and he refused to accept it. But, it kept appearing more and more to the point where he had no choice but to come to terms. And it explained so much, he hated to say

Unknowingly glaring at whoever was diverting your attention, grinding his teeth whenever he would hear you laughing and knowing that it wasn’t him causing it, even snapping one time at a possible suitor when he overheard the conversation between you

“If you actually listened to (Name) then you would know that they already answered that question earlier. But no, you’re too busy focusing on their looks to understand what they’re saying! Maybe if you didn’t let your damn mind wander to the gutter so much you could appreciate the time that they’re willing to spend with you when they can be spending it with me!”

He won’t ever live that down

He would try to gift you things that he knows that you would enjoy (and he didn’t even have to look in his book, that’s how much he remembers), but it would somehow backfire

“Thank you Kunikida for this but...were you hungry?”

“No. Why are you asking? If you’re offering to share it, I rather not. I got those just for you-“

“It’s empty.”

“...”

“RANPO!”

He would be the gentleman more than he already was, but you just saw it as him being nice and trying to stay in like with his beliefs. He even asked you straightforward on a date, but you said that you already had plans

With the look on his face you would’ve thought that you burned his precious notebook right in front of him and you and Dazai were roasting marshmallows above it

Kunikida could be controlling, but only because he’s so used to running on schedule and being a leader. But he would try his best not to come off as that to you outside of work; he wants you guys to be happy together in a healthy relationship. He’ll make mistakes but he’s truly trying, be patient. He really does want to be with you and he’s here to show that

So after collecting mountains and mountains of data on how to approach this unique situation, he came to only one outcome: to confess. He was nervous, his stomach doing multiple flips, but he will go through with it

Now, he’s on a mission: to both try to overcome the struggle of accepting that you weren’t the ideal romantic ideal according to his notebook, and to reveal that you are the ideal romantic partner for him

He couldn’t take this ugly feeling anymore, and while he stood by his ideals, he wanted to stand by your side too

Plus if he got tempted to use his ability on one more person that tried to hit on you he was gonna snap

[chocolate-parfait]

Yay, askbox is open! I hope that means requests too, if not please ignore this and sorry. But could I request another angst? Could I please ask for headcannons for Dazai (and the others could be either Theo, Vincent, Leo, Comte, Will or Arthot, you can choose two, 'cause I can't XD) who find their S/Os suicide note? You can take it wherever you want from there. Thank you so much, love your works <3 Have a grwat day!

Hi @robin-the-enby !! I'm happy to see you in my inbox again, and although this took me embarrassingly long (my procrastination tendencies and school got the better of me :,)), I'm more than happy to provide something that will help with your coping! Despite it all, I hope that you'll get better soon and hang on a while longer. I'm sure this prolonged pandemic has had negative effects on most people's mental health, but remember that we'll get through this in one way or the other! Stay strong and keep fighting, if it gets too much don't hesitate to take a break and go easy on yourself❤

Halfway through I realized I was writing scenarios instead of simple headcanons ,, I was too engrossed in writing to realize it oops 🧍‍♀️ 🧍‍♀️ 🧍‍♀️

Finding MC'S suicide note - Ikevamp headcanons (Dazai, Arthur & Leonardo)

(TW; suicide / mentions of self-harm / major character death / blood)

(CW; slight and inaccurate spoilers for Dazai's past)

For those who'd like to avoid specific contents, this is what I wrote for each suitor:

Dazai - MC is unconscious and bleeding, I didn't specify whether they survive or not

Arthur - MC is stopped before they can do anything, survives

Leonardo - MC isn't stopped in time, dies

Dazai

It was as if history was repeating itself. The message, the bloodied sheets and the unconscious body. The only different thing was perhaps.... him. It was a him that had experienced true happiness, a him that had learned forgiveness, a him that knew better than retort to suicide as a way of repentance. And yet... was it not enough? Dazai's mind swirled with the pungent thoughts of his own fate as he ran with your body in his arms. He ran, and ran, and ran, passing by a seemingly endless succession of hallways and wooden doors.

Never before did he wish your room was closer to Arthur's, as he felt your body grow colder and his clothes dampen with blood with each step forward. And yet the stars that were now adorning the night sky's black cape, seemed to be offering their compassion to him, for when Dazai burst into the writer's room he saw him sitting at his desk, completely sober and still functioning in the middle of the night.

Arthur slightly turned in his chair, and as he was about to comment with displeasure how rude it was of the man to come into his room completely unannounced, his mouth was left agape and eyes wide open, wordlessly staring at your limp and seemingly unmoving body as the smell of blood hit his nostrils in mere seconds.

"What in the Heavens happened-?!" Arthur abruptly stood up, leaving his half-finished manuscript forgotten on the table, rushing closer to check your pulse. The two novelists had never liked each other, a difference in life choices maybe, but it surely was not a hate that could surpass even the most perilous of situations, particularly because you were an outsider to their rivalry. As such, Arthur did not hesitate to put to good use all his medical knowledge, carefully rushing through every step to avoid the worst.

Seconds slowly transformed into hours, although Dazai was convinced time had stopped ever since the moment he had found you on your bed, utterly frozen in a state of unconsciousness with a crumpled letter of apologies laying on the bloodied sheets. The only thing that perhaps gave him the slightest hint to time’s passing was the way he could feel the blood on his chest and hands grow drier as the night morphed into the day.

As the first rays of light poked from behind the thick curtain of the doctor’s room, Dazai sat by his bed, right next to you, silent and outwardly calm, although dazed in the raging storm inside his heart.

Perhaps this was what Destiny itself had decided for him. Perhaps it was wrong of him to blame casualty instead of himself. His old, stupid self, who hadn’t learnt a single thing from past mistakes. But as his fellow vampire’s warm hand came to rest on his shoulder, Dazai decided to delay all judgment about his negligence until the Gods determined your fate.

Arthur

Staring at the familiar handwriting, Arthur felt his whole body grow numb, as if someone had thrown him in the darkest depths of the ocean, leaving him to suffocate under the overwhelming weight of the waters above.

He had noticed the worsening of your symptoms, but he had never imagined you'd go to these lengths. He had gravely underestimated your condition, and he could already hear the old ghosts of his past laughing at him, pointing their fingers while mocking him. But now, he had no time to worry about his own lack of foresight; his priority was getting to you in time, so that all could be fixed, hopefully.

Scanning the writing on your tear-stained note, his brain started listing all the possible places where you could've gone with a speed that would leave speechless even Sherlock Holmes himself. The writing was hurried and scrambled, meaning that it was a sudden decision. The city was too far away and bustling with people that could interfere, so it was an unlikely location. As he was running around the mansion in search of you, he passed in front of the terrace on the last floor; there, he saw your clothes swirling in the wind, and your figure standing on the stone railing.

He almost crashed against the glass door as he launched himself forward with extreme speed. You were there, looking down and slightly trembling. You were scared, as it was normal, but if death frightened you so, then what pain would be so strong to push you in its embrace? To drive you away from his warm arms and into the eternal darkness? Was such a painful experience worth the possible relief?

"MC!!!" Arthur shouted out of instinct with his whole lungs, like a volcano erupting in all its fury. A few steps later and you were falling backwards, your back colliding with his chest as he harshly pulled you to him. It all happened so fast that you didn't even have the time to turn your head and look at him. Now that you were on the ground, safely locked in his embrace, everything slowly sank in.

His voice came out choked and trembling. "W-what were you thinking-?!" He was trying so hard to hold everything back; the tears, the sobs, the anger in his voice. He was angry at himself, and you were not the target of his resentment, but he realized that it could be easily misunderstood by someone in your situation. Taking a deep breath and turning you around, he stared deeply into your pained eyes, softening his iron-like grip on your forearms.

His voice now steadier yet gentle with affection and worry added:"Love, I'm sorry for not noticing all of this sooner. I'm sorry for not helping you enough. Still, I want to be of some use to you, I want to be there for you.” A sharp breath interrupted his speech, maybe from him, you or perhaps both of you. “…So please, please rely on me; whenever you feel like you can't do it anymore, whenever you feel like you have enough of life, give me the chance to help you."

Seconds later, you burst into tears, sobbing confused "I'm sorry"s in the crook of his neck. Arthur slowly caressed your hair soothingly, as his heart continued to painfully hammer against his chest. He knew this was not going to be an easy nor a short journey; it was going to take time, and it would be hard, but he wouldn't give up on you no matter what. Through thick and thin, the way you did for him, he was going to support you the whole way.

"I love you more than anything in the world, MC." he added at last, hugging you tightly.

Leonardo

The deafening sound of crickets did not reach the man’s ears. He couldn’t hear anything but the fast pumping of his own blood in his veins. A heartbeat that had never and would never stop; stronger than anyone else’s, but also alone. The sound of his heart was utterly lonely, the only one under the white gazebo, now shrouded in the darkness of the night.

How much he would give not to hear it anymore, to put an end to it right then and there. But he couldn’t. And as Fate loved torturing him endlessly, he was now once more deprived of a person he loved. But this time was different than the countless others before. He thought he had gotten used to the company offered by Death herself, and it had been long ever since tears burned within his eyes, as if made of fire.

Between his arms laid a lifeless body, utterly still and deprived of any warmth. It seemed like mere moments had passed when Leonardo was contentedly caressing your hair as a tired yet relaxed sigh fell from a pair crimson lips, which whispered some loving words before blooming into a smile. Now, they were pale and slightly agape, a cold frown sculpted onto the body’s face. Perhaps he had gotten so used to the passage of time that he did not pay it more mind. Perhaps all his memories took place too long ago, and perhaps things had changed considerably from those happy moments you shared.

Leonardo’s expression subconsciously mimicked your own, one that would remain in his mind for who knows how long, and he did not dare to move away, sitting there with you for the very last moments of his eternally long life. He tried not to think about the way his heart lurched in his chest like a ship at sea during a storm when he found your note. Your handwriting, calm and precise as if it was a decision you had made long ago; where was his mind wandering off to while you were deciding to seal your own fate?

Silently strangling all those whirling thoughts in his head until they died down, leaving him in a deathly silence, he lovingly bid you farewell with a final kiss to your lips.

“Hopefully, we’ll meet in another life.”

“Next time, I won’t let this happen again”

Suffering was human, but he had learnt all too well how contagious pain could be. And yet, he now found himself isolated in his grievance, for you weren’t with him anymore.

[unohanadaydreams]

I was working on requests but then I was like y’know what I should do? Flesh out and write down my Mayuri headcanons because I can not bear the weight of this obsession alone.

Mayuri Kurotsuchi Origin Headcanons (incomplete but long)

features: uuuuh not overly disturbing. One instance of suicide, experimentation on a fetus.

The woman who raised him was elegant, ambitious, and dutiful. But she was not a mother. The care she gave Mayuri was toward his talent for sewing—he had an eye for detail and a competitive nature that compelled her to pinch his cheek and smile at his handiwork. Always, she smiled at the fabric. Never at him.

When he was very young, they worked for the local theaters. His mother—she told him over and over she wasn’t his mother, but Mayuri wanted her to be so badly that, in the secret of his mind, he called her that—was sought after enough to be choosy. They followed the actors before pay. She taught him that money was fleeting, but talent was everlasting.

She gave him books on educational odds and ends. Some were not to keep, on loan from someone who owed her a favor. Others were his, taken from those steeped in debt but unwilling to strip his mother’s wonderful kimono from their back. His favorite were of the natural sciences. He so wanted to keep a book on Reishi that he tossed it in the fire pit when his mother demanded it back, not wanting anyone to have it if he couldn’t have his way. She smacked his head against the wall until he bled.

His mother loved to be obeyed. Conditions were what she valued over coin. It was as close to power as could be gotten by someone with so little to begin with. She watched rehearsals, was ‘gifted’ favored seats, and was given a voice when it came time to pick the next play.

He was urged to nurture his curiosity; it would suit him when his mother sent him off to be a soul reaper. She always said she would, even when his entire face became a wrinkle at the thought of fighting on and on for nothing he cared about. At least the actors had grace, built up by makeup, masks, and finery.

Mayuri wasn’t fond of the actors as a rule. Their egos and posturing annoyed him. In opposition, his mother’s eyes followed them endlessly. The exceptions to his ire tended to moonlight as jesters; they came and bid him ask his mother to dye their kimonos or to copy the latest en vogue brocade—but better. That was her specialty—brocades.

He was often bored and lonesome, so when the actors spoke to him, he spoke back despite the cool facade he gave them when with his mother, which was often. The room in which he wove and dyed fabric was often filled with his chatter, to himself. But silent when his mother was there, which was often.

Mayuri pushed limits like all children do, but with himself. How far could he poke a needle into his skin before it became unbearable? If he sewed an eye shut, would it fuse together? His mother seemed very occupied and payed him little attention, until she noticed that his eye was, indeed, fusing shut.

She had a real son by an actor most beloved for his roles as heroines and not long after they were called for by a 1st rukongai theater, where the actor could not follow. His mother accepted, gave her conditions, and stayed for a few last shows. Playing a woman determined to follow her lover in death, he gave a long, wailing speech and did not get back up after twisting the knife to his gut. His mother smiled, looking satisfied that he had done it as the audience leapt from the pits to crowd the dying body.

Thereafter, he seemed to leave his mother’s side for good. Even if his little brother was too young to weave and was bland to everyone including Mayuri, he had an eye for color. His mother wove, aided his brother with dyeing fabric, and told Mayuri it was time for him to do more. “You think it’s only fighting, but my sister became a soul reaper. And now she lives in the clouds, doing as she pleases. No-no, not dead. Just dead to me.”

Mayuri left for the academy before he could watch a 1st rukongai production, his spiritual pressure growing well under instruction. But he hated the large emphasis on battle. Strategy interested him, but his questions soured many teacher’s attitudes toward him.

So used to his hands always being at work at weaving, Mayuri began to tinker on things during class simply to help him think. He sat in the back as a thin courtesy, but was known to dissect animals during lectures. His row was often empty but for himself.

Reishi, again, became a large focal point for him and Mayuri had more than a single book at his disposal. Texts both aged and modern were poured through with hunger. If all living things contain Reishi, then could some form of reishi revive the dead? Could life be made of reishi not through natural processes? Could the essence of the soul exist if pried from the shell, would there be enough reishi to support that?

He understood the concern behind the meetings meant to discourage his questions and lines of study, but he resented them all and burned his theories for show, every wondering word fresh in his mind. His logic was sound, his questions legitimate, and his ability up to the task. How could a soul reaper do as they please in such an environment?

Mayuri went to his mother when he neared graduation, pausing his education, years having past with much frustration, at her call. She sought opportunities for him, now that she served nobles, and he hurried back at the illusion of freedom.

His brother still wore an expression as blank as unmarked paper, but he hugged Mayuri round the legs whenever he entered the room. His mother scolded him for it.

It was here that he once again turned his wondering in on himself. Skin opened and tested for the conditions that would allow regeneration. Could healing Kido be broken down into a liquid or pill? Was there an alternative to healing Kido? With few tools or funding, Mayuri found his conclusions compromised. His skin became scarred, but healed well enough under his skilled needlework to cause no harm.

Not that Mayuri was afraid of harm. It hurt immensely to experiment on himself, but he was greater than the academy would let him be and beneath the pain would be the glory of discovery. At times, he had his little brother do what he could physically not. It worked well—though young, his brother seemed largely unaffected and his needlework had improved enough that Mayuri did not scold him about it. Which was praise enough.

While serving the Shihōin family, his mother made sly introductions to several of the clansmen and one who was not. A soul reaper named Kisuke Urahara, a dear friend of the Shihōin princess , who seemed impressed with Mayuri’s work, but only enough to praise it. He was two faced and annoying and worst of all brilliant. Mayuri wanted the praise he got as much as he hated the man. He was too touchy, always patting his back or hair or shoulder.

Urahara’s words gave confidence to the clansmen, who worked out arrangements with his mother. Instead of paying in full for expensive kimonos and debt-inducing brocade, Mayuri would have funding and permissions. It was all unofficial, under the table, and unknown the clan head. The only ones on the line were he and his mother and Mayuri knew that meant he would take the blame, alone, if relations soured.

The work the two nobles loved best in the beginning were that of regeneration, which suited Mayuri enough since they also gave him freedom to do more. He, too, wished to complete his work in that area. It was, once again, when he wandered back into questions of artificial life—the limits of reishi and the ways to change reishi to break those limits—that he was warned by Urahara. “Any good mind wonders about life and death, Mayuri. But you’re not cute enough to break the rules! Maybe if you looked like your mom ❤️ Instead of an angry burlap dolly~! Good thing you’re a little genius in the making, huh?”

Begrudgingly, Mayuri took the condescending advice and kept his work that did not suit the nobles at a minimum and extremely private. His notes were few, coded, and progressing badly without workable experimentation. What the nobles wanted were likewise becoming more petty; looking to outdo the humans on this or best another clan on that. Unbearable, demeaning work considering the fewer freedoms they gave him—the funding was running out.

He became more restless. More reckless. The Shihōin family and his mother parted ways. Mayuri’s freedoms were gone. He stuck holes in his little brother’s forehead until his face was covered in blood. Made horns. Tore off his own ears. Made better ones. Dug out his own fingernails. Tried to carve himself into something better—someone above these circumstances. His mother sewed his skin shut wordlessly one night, the one he’d rid himself of his ears, and pinched his cheek like he was a toddler again.

So too did his approach to his appearance change. Like the actors and jesters of his earliest memories, he painted his skin white. Covered his eyes in a strip of black. Set his blue hair stiff and neat like a wig. Unique to him were the metal improvements that replaced his ears.

His little brother began to follow him everywhere after he was given horns, his mother once again occupied. One day, they found their mother dead together, murdered body tangled in a weaving loom.

Mad, for sure, Mayuri took her body to his lab, determined to find out as much as he could before discovered. His mother was unsalvageable, but the fetus within her could be something extraordinary. A third sibling. A first sister. A wonderful dream. Someone to take his mother’s place, but better. Always better—always striving to be more than before.

The data was invaluable even if it was coated in failure. Not that he had truly expected to breath life on the first try, but he had wished to not be caught. The Shihōin were famed for their leadership of the secret police, though, and caught he was. Even his most ingenious traps could not stop an entire force.

Unlawful tampering of a soul, theft of Shihōin funds and equipment, unlawful creation, and the murder of secret police, mother, and unborn sister. He was sentenced to the maggot’s nest, no access to anything but a cell. Too valuable of mind to be die, but too dangerous to be free.

Too valuable of mind to die. He always knew he was. It was nice to hear it, though.

[plotting-against-you]

Will It Ever Be the Same (Part 1)

Fandom: Nancy Drew (TV 2019)

Characters: Ryan Hudson, Nancy Drew, Ace, Bess Marvin, George Fan, Ned 'Nick' Nickerson

Prompt(s): This is based on two prompts. One of those prompts is from Alicia, who asked: "Could you do one where Nancy is 13 instead, has blonde hair like Lucy, and blue eyes like Ryan? She goes to his place like in 1x17 to get help for the ritual and on the way out she gets dizzy because she's been working herself to exhaustion. In that moment Ryan notices how similar she looks to Lucy and himself but decides not to say anything but also knows Nancy is his. She eventually tells him before doing the ritual. They go back to his place and he just says 'I know it's you'. She gets overwhelmed, almost passes out, and he just sits with her and tells her to rest."

This is also for @nancydrewcentral's week 2 hiatus prompt: Time Period AU.

Warnings: Panic/Anxiety attacks, mentions of anxiety and coping mechanisms, mentions of character deaths (past and present), mentions of suicide

Nancy wrapped her arms around herself as she bent over, heaving shallow breaths into the air. The sky grew lighter now, as she’d been running for most of the night, and she found herself unsure what to do or where to go next.

“You’re DNA wasn’t a match for the female hair.”

“It’s a mother-daughter match for Lucy Sable.”

“She’s me. The baby is me.”

She couldn’t believe the information she had just found out, and she wished she were older. She thought that if she were older, she might have had more experience in life to handle this sort of life-shattering revelation, but being only fourteen years old, all she felt was betrayal.

And heartbreak.

And panic.

So maybe she felt a lot of things, Nancy admitted to herself, but she felt she had the right to do so. Her whole life had been turned upside-down in a matter of a few hours, and she wasn’t sure what to do now.

She’d been told stories of how hard freshman year in high school could be, but she was positive her friends hadn’t meant this.

She saw headlights approaching and ducked behind a tree, holding her breath as they passed. Though she knew it could be dangerous for someone as young as her to be out alone all night, she was in no mood to face her father. Besides, it wasn’t like she was inexperienced.

She was Nancy Drew, after all.

Or was she?

She let herself plop onto her butt in the grass as she contemplated what to do next. She couldn’t face Carson—for calling him ‘Dad’ now was too hard—but she couldn’t stay out there for too much longer. She’d left her jacket as she climbed out her bedroom window and had started to shiver as soon as she had stopped running.

Her heart ached for the only woman she’d ever known as mother, Kate Drew, and her feelings were mixed there. She didn’t want to be bad at her…whatever she was to her now. Kate had died only a year earlier, and coming to terms with the fact that she’d lied to her hurt more than she wanted to admit.

Then she shivered again and realized she had to find somewhere to take shelter.

She could go to The Claw, she knew. She and her friends had picked up summer jobs working there for cash—under the table of course and no pun intended—and Dawn had always said they could go there whenever they needed. But her friends wouldn’t be there for a few hours yet, and Nancy wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to explain her new parentage to them yet.

As the rush of memories from the night prior filled her head, she picked out one statement that kept replaying itself.

“Ryan Hudson is my biological father.”

She’d seen Ryan Hudson in many different ways over the last few months. For fourteen years, she’d known him as the rich, arrogant hill topper who only graced their town when it was convenient for him or his business dealings.

Then his wife had died during her shift at The Claw, and they’d all been thrown into what she thought would be the weirdest time in her life. Being a murder suspect at fourteen wasn’t what any of her friends had expected for their lives, but it had happened. It was while she was trying to solve that case that she started to see a different side to the man.

Then she’d found out everything regarding his painful loss of Lucy Sable, and her heart broke for him.

Though she’d wanted to help him and Lucy’s ghost in some way, she was forced to put her feelings on pause as even crazier things came to pass—it would be just their luck to call to a sea spirit that wanted them dead—and she’d had to change her list of priorities.

Now all she could think about was how she knew the difficulty in trying to reconcile something in your brain that you had no control over and no knowledge of, no matter how hard you tried.

Standing from her spot in the damp grass, she took a deep breath and started walking again.

This time she knew exactly where she was going.

…

Her phone rang just as she was approaching Ryan’s house.

Groaning as she assumed it was her…Carson, again, she lifted it to hang up but stopped when she saw that it was Ace instead.

He’d been at The Claw with her the night before when she’d read the DNA match on John Sanders’ laptop. So far, he was the only one to know her secret outside of herself and Carson, and she’d only let him stay because he refused to leave her side.

Though he was usually more ‘chill’ than that, he could be a very protective boyfriend when he wanted to be.

She knew that he would be worried about her, especially considering he knew her better than anyone else in her life. So, deciding it would be a good idea to at least tell him she was alive and not eaten by a bear or killed by the Aglaeca, she answered and lifted it to her ear.

“Ace.” She breathed his name out like he was the life raft she needed to save her from drowning.

“Nancy.” She could hear the concern in his voice. “Where are you? Are you okay? Your dad called my parents and said that you ran away.”

She bit her lip. “Carson told me the truth after I confronted him.”

“Oh, Nance…” He used her nickname, and it squeezed at her heart.

“I’m sorry I made you worry.” Her voice was thick with tears as she felt them rush to her eyes. “I can’t be around him right now.”

Ace’s voice was soft as if he were calming a scared animal. “You could have come to me.”

She shook her head, though she knew rationally that he couldn’t see her. She had the brief thought that maybe he had hacked a satellite and could possibly see her. When they’d started dating, he promised he would do anything he could to keep her happy and safe.

“I’m sorry. If I had come there, your parents would have told Carson, and I just….”

“I get it.” His voice was equal parts comforting and protective. “Just tell me if you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.” She sniffed.

“Good. Because I know you’re dealing with a lot, but uh, George’s mom says the Aglaeca’s coming after us.” He said it quickly as if ripping off a band-aid.

This stopped her in her tracks, and she paid no mind to the fact that she stood on the side of a dangerously curved road in the middle of nowhere.

In her silence, he continued. “Nick, Bess, George…we’ve all gotten these really weird visions. Portents. Have you?”

She sighed and closed her eyes in defeat. “I vomited up a seaweed wreath yesterday morning.”

“I would say that qualifies.” He said lightly.

“When I went to look for it later, it had turned to sand. Are you saying the Aglaeca did that?” She hadn’t believed in the supernatural before Tiffany Hudson’s murder, but she wholeheartedly believed in it now.

“Yeah.” Ace hesitated. “Apparently, it’s like a bloodhound. And because the Aglaeca responded to your call for Lucy’s bones, you’re acting as its gateway.”

“What, Ace? What aren’t you telling me?” Nancy knew her boyfriend well, and he was holding something back from her.

“Uh…well, that also means you’re the one that’s capable of stopping it.”

“You don’t sound hopeful about that.” Her heart lurched in sudden anxiety. “Do you not trust me to do it?”

“No!” He said quickly before correcting himself. “I mean, yes. Obviously, I trust you. It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

It was his turn to sigh. “Well, George’s mom says that you can throw it off your trail by mixing your blood with somebody else’s. Disguising yourself so that, you know, the curse can’t find you, because if it can’t find you, it can’t find any of us.

“Uh, but…the ritual has to be done with a relative. Your blood relative.”

There was the catch and the reason for his earlier hesitation. “Well, that’s a problem, because…you saw the test results last night. My closest relative is not my blood relative.”

“But Ryan Hudson is.” He sighed again. “Listen, I know that poses certain challenges, and don’t worry. You know your secret is safe with me. But…”

“I, uh…” She started walking again and let the gears in her head turn. “I think I have a plan.”

“Nancy, babe, what are you going to do?” His voice held concern again, but also admiration.

He constantly made sure she knew how in awe he was at her detective skills and her ability to make the best of even the worst situations.

“I’ll meet you guys at Bess’ aunt’s party, okay?”

“Can you at least tell me the plan?” Ace was quick with his words, knowing full well that she could hang up at any moment.

“I have to talk to my father.”

…

Ryan crouched on the ground, frozen in place as he looked at the papers scattered in front of him. He’d been up nearly all night searching for any clue as to why Lucy hadn’t talked to him before taking her own life.

Then he’d picked up on the clues she’d written in her journal, and his mind had stopped.

Stroking his finger over Lucy’s baby picture he’d found in her yearbook, he allowed his mind to wander to every what-if scenario that came at him

What if Lucy had been pregnant? Were either of them ready to be parents at eighteen?

What if she’d told him about the baby? Would it have made a difference?

What if she’d lived? Could they have raised their baby together?

What if his parents found out? Is that why they threatened her?

Ryan was so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed his front door opening and whipped his head up to make sure it wasn’t either of the elder Hudsons coming in. He couldn’t have them knowing what he knew—they could react any number of ways. If he did have a child out there, he didn’t want them anywhere near his parents.

Then he caught sight of Nancy and sighed. “What, did you break-in? Figured you and your dad would be celebrating by now.”

Nancy remembered how Ryan had thanked them after the hearing had adjourned. He’d been upset by everything that happened but also grateful that they’d found out the truth of what happened with Lucy.

She felt horrible for having to go back on those things and hurt him again.

She wondered how she was supposed to once again break the heart of this man who had been through so much. He was only thirty-two and had lost the love of his life and his wife. Now, after twenty-four hours of thinking he knew exactly what had happened, Nancy was supposed to add more to his plate? It was causing her heart rate to spike, and she knew a panic attack was coming.

She saw the hopeful look in his eye and couldn’t do it. She wasn’t going to be the one to deal another blow to his fragile mental health.

“I need your help.”

“Uh, sorry, I can’t today. I have to get over to the free clinic in Trenton.” He was still crouched on the ground as he spoke.

Her face scrunched in confusion, and something shifted in his brain that he couldn’t quite place.

“Don’t you have rich people health insurance?” She questioned him as she moved over to the counter.

He rolled his eyes at her teenage sarcasm. “It’s not for me, okay? I’m trying to get answers on Lucy. The court clerk gave me a copy of her journal.”

Her already accelerated heart rate sped up as she turned to him. “Why?”

“Why?” He sounded appalled by the question and stood. “Because my dad threatened her! I wanted to make sure he wasn’t being physically violent. I didn’t see anything in her journal about that, but I did find some other helpful things.”

Every time he spoke, he made her anxiety worse, not that he was aware of it. “Like what?”

“I mean, you’re still young, so I don’t want to read some of it to you, but in early spring of 2000, she was writing stuff that makes me think….” He trailed off, unsure if he should tell her what he found.

She was only fourteen, after all. He didn’t know what she knew or if she was even comfortable with the subject.

“Go on.” She looked at the back of the papers in his hand, not being able to meet his eye. “I’m not a child.”

Ryan sighed. “I think she might have been pregnant.”

Nancy fought to keep the gray from edging into her eyesight as she swallowed down the rising panic within her. She knew if she didn’t give into the feelings soon, or at least do some techniques that she’d been taught, she’d pass out or worse. But she didn’t want to give away her secret to him just yet—if ever—so she shook her head.

“And you think the baby was yours?”

He scoffed. “Of course, it would have been mine! Lucy and I were…dating…around New Year’s, and so yeah. Mine.”

“You mean you were sleeping together around then.” She corrected for him and rolled her eyes at the shocked and slightly horrified look on his face. “Oh, stop that. I’m in high school now. I know these things.”

Then she caught the new look on his face and froze. He no longer looked shocked or horrified by her words but stared at her as if he was looking right through her. She felt her throat tighten and took a step back.

Ryan stared at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. Whatever had shifted in his head minutes earlier when she’d scrunched her face had returned the moment she rolled her eyes at him, and all the puzzle pieces had come together.

Both of those faces were exact replicas of his and Lucy’s expressions respectfully, and suddenly he was seeing what he hadn’t through their entire “working” relationship.

Besides the fact that Lucy had been haunting both of them, the young detective had told him she was allergic to wasps’ stings, and so was he. In addition to that, he remembered seeing her bite her lip when she was nervous, a trait that Lucy had right up until the day she died.

Then there were her looks. Her blonde hair may have been turning redder every day, but it was undoubtedly Lucy’s, as were her blue eyes his. She was the perfect combination of them, and he knew the truth in his heart.

Lucy had been pregnant. And Nancy was their daughter.

Then his surroundings came back to him, and he saw how she looked at that moment.

Her usually snarky yet confident expression had turned to fear, eyes wide and pale skin merging together to make her look gaunt. Ryan saw her throat moving quickly and knew she was trying to either swallow down tears or suck in air. Her hand, which now gripped the papers he’d handed her, shook enough to be visible, and she looked utterly exhausted.

He knew a panic attack when he saw one and knew that she also knew the truth.

Not wanting to push her, he told himself he wouldn’t bring it up to her. But, still, he had to make sure she was okay. The last thing he wanted was for her to be hospitalized because she was panicking over this added thing in her life.

“Nancy?” He kept his voice even, though he could hear the worry in it. “Are you okay?”

As he said the words in the same way Ace had said earlier, she told her brain that it was her boyfriend’s voice she was hearing and forced herself to relax. “I…”

“Can I get you some water?” Ryan moved away from her, walking to the sink. “You look pale.”

“Yeah, I, uh…didn’t get any sleep last night.” She forced herself to take some deep breaths while his back was turned and felt a bit more stable when he brought her the glass. “Counteroffer…I’ll help you find out if Lucy was pregnant if you do me a favor after.”

He’d do anything she asked of him, he realized, even if it meant doing her favors or playing along with something she clearly didn’t know he knew. “Deal. Do you need to call your dad?”

He saw the way she cringed at the word ‘dad’ and confirmed his theory that she wasn’t doing as well with the news as he was.

“Uh, nope. I’m good. He’s probably at work anyway.”

He didn’t call her out on the lie, instead holding the front door open to follow her to his car. He’d find out more about that situation later.

…

She’d lied to him. She’d looked him right in the face and lied to him.

They’d taken the trip to Trenton, and acting like a spoiled, entitled rich guy had made Ryan realize just how shitty of a person he probably was in everyone’s eyes. After Nancy had insisted on speaking to the doctor herself, he stood in the waiting room and thought about it.

He knew that he was different from everyone else in Horseshoe Bay, but until he was pretending to threaten to shut down the clinic, he had never realized how those people might see him. It was hard to come to terms with the fact that you had been an asshole for thirty-two years of your life, but Ryan had decided at that moment there wouldn’t be another.

He was going to change for Nancy, even if she never knew it was for her. He never wanted to see the look on her face as he had when she’d shut him up or told him a flat-out lie after leaving the clinic.

Sitting in the driver’s seat of his car, he thought about the story she’d spun for him, telling him that Lucy had been pregnant but had died with her child still inside her womb. He had done the math and had figured out that Nancy had been born weeks earlier than her due date, and she must have too.

Her knowledge of life and her ability to spin a tale baffled him.

“So, are you going to like…tell me why we’re going to Diana Marvin’s house?” He questioned, not wanting to sit in silence any more than they had.

Nancy huffed. “It’s Bess and her cousin Owen’s house, too.”

Owen Marvin was quite unlike the rest of his family. Being their age and having so few family members that were, he sometimes joined Bess at The Claw during her shift to hang out with their group. Of course, they all knew that he primarily came to flirt with Nancy but had been sweet enough to stop once her relationship with Ace had come out.

“I know, but still. You know that I’m like persona non grata, so you want to tell me what this favor is or what?”

“Yeah, in a minute. Can I ask you something?” Nancy had shifted her head lazily on the headrest so that she could look at him.

She still looked slightly pale, something the doctor had also noticed when they walked in, but her breathing seemed to be better, and she looked less like crying.

“Yeah, sure.”

She opened and closed her mouth only once before speaking. “What would it have meant, if-if you’d had the…the baby? Do you think you were ready to be a dad at eighteen?”

He should have known this question was coming. Even so, he answered honestly as he figured she’d be able to tell if he was lying. Besides, she looked too vulnerable as she stared at him.

“At eighteen? No…” He chuckled slightly. “No, hell no. A kid like me, I was dumb and spoiled, and I had horrible parental role models, as you know, so no. That would have been a disaster.”

He thought of his parents again and internally cringed, promising himself he’d do everything in his power to keep them away from Nancy.

“Do you think…do you think that you would have tried to…?” He saw her tuck a strand of hair out of the corner of his eye before she froze and started pulling at her hair. “Oh my God.”

“Hey, you okay?” He glanced at her now, then nearly hit the breaks as she started choking. “Hey. Hey, h-hold on.”

He swerved dangerously to the side of the road and brought the car to a park. Nancy was throwing herself out of the car the second they were stopped, and he followed her actions, panic welling up inside of him.

He wasn’t sure if she was having a panic attack again, but it looked different than it had before back at his house. When he finally got around to her side of the car, she was breathing again. He reached her side the second she slammed the door shut and watched in confusion as she stared at her reflection in the tinted windows.

“Hey, what…what, are you having a panic attack?” He knew he wasn’t supposed to ask, but it scared him.

Then he saw her look at her hand and the pile of sand that sat in it that had definitely not been there a moment prior. “No, no, uh…it was a portent.”

“A portent?” How did she even know what that word meant? He sure didn’t at fourteen. “What, you mean from Lucy?”

“No. From something completely different.” She looked scared now, but differently from before.

This had nothing to do with their familial relationship, and that seemed to worry him even more. He wondered if her whole life would worry him, as she seemed always to be ingrained in some dangerous happenstance.

“This is the favor that I had to ask you, actually.” She sounded upset, tears threatening to fall. “A few days ago, I did something unusual to get the evidence to exonerate my…to exonerate Carson. Uh, my friends and I did this ritual to call to this sea spirit.”

He was completely confused but tried to keep up. “Sea spirit. Like…like dolphins?”

She shook her head as she sat on the ledge overlooking the sea. “Stay with me. It’s a local legend. Uh, and it worked. The Aglaeca answered my call. But the problem is…is I couldn’t hold up my end of the bargain.

“The…the Aglaeca wanted Owen Marvin’s blood. All of it. So we couldn’t go through with it, and now we triggered this, uh, curse, and I have to fix it. And in order to do that, I need to do another ritual to make sure that the spirit doesn’t lock onto its target, and…and that’s where you come in.”

She hated having to get someone else involved, but she was desperate for anything that might save the lives of her and her friends.

Though he wanted to wrap his arms around her and whisk her away to be somewhere safe from all this nonsense, he knew that wouldn’t solve anything. He’d seen enough of Lucy’s ghost to know that supernatural creatures existed, and if his daughter was tangled up with one, he couldn’t let her down.

“Why me?” He was genuinely curious and hoped it didn’t come off as a refusal. “I mean, unless this Aglaeca takes cash, then I’m….”

“It’s not about your money this time, Ryan.” She snapped at him now, and he could see the panic setting back in. “It’s about you specifically, because….”

He froze, watching her face carefully, and wondered if this was the moment she would reveal that she knew she was his daughter.

Then he watched as she hesitated and shook her head. “It’s a long story, uh, and one of which you don’t need to know all the details. But if you just come with me….”

He nodded immediately. “Yeah, no, of course. I mean, it sounds urgent.”

They stared at each other for a second, and he watched as Nancy tried to blink away the tears that had pooled in her eyes. He felt his resolve breaking before taking a deep breath and deciding to take a leap of faith.

“Do you need me because I’m your father?”

Part 2

[kittybellestark]

Hi ! I don't know if this is where you send requests, but maybe a fic where peter gets all jealous of Morgan and Harley, and its fathers day, but he feels like he shouldn't be there and stays in the room the Stark's have for him- (Tony lives) OH! and maybe Mays dead idk whatever ya want thank you ! <3 Oh! and can I be on the taglist?

hi milove sorry for taking literal months to do your request i recognize you requesting this on nov 18th and it is now February so i hope this is smth that was worth the wait !! 

So I played with the timelines a lil bit bc i suck and i also just kinda took this to a place i don’t think you were asking me to do whoops, it’s not just some cute sibling jealously

also not very irondad based, like sprinkle amounts. also no comfort. my bad 

Post-endgame, Tony lives, Harley & Peter are the same age, Peter got snapped Harley didn’t 

TW: Grief, implication of suicide(minor character), suicidal thoughts,  

-

There wasn’t many things Peter liked. He remembers liking a lot of things, life, school, home, himself. But that was years ago, and yet it was only a few months for Peter. The world was different now, older.

Those who survived held grief in their eyes, they moved slow and while they have grown since the loss of their world, they also had survived the return. They mourned and grew older, making new family and friends. But some who survived couldn’t hold the weight of their loss, and in the 5 years their family was gone, they went to be with them.

The returned came back, and lived in denial. Their eyes were empty, and every movement was carefully thought through. They were left behind, monuments in their place. Those who returned saw how the survived struggled to cope, and in turn they struggled as well. There was no place for them anymore. Especially when they didn’t have a family to go to.

Like Peter.

Peter returned to the world five years later to find May was gone. She was one of those who survived the initial snap, only to not be able to carry the grief. He hated that he came back to life and had no home, no family. Peter was alone.

Tony was nice enough to offer Peter a place to live with his own family. But they couldn’t relate to him, they didn’t know what it felt like to be left behind like this, to be dropped in the future and expected to be okay. Tony had a family now. A child born in an empty world, and another kid, Harley. He was barely a teenager before the snap and now he was 17, just as old as Peter.

He couldn’t help but hate living with them. Harley’s family had returned, but he wasn’t going home. Morgan was a child who was scared by Peter. Tony and Pepper sometimes forgot Peter was there, after spending so long without him they would act as if they’ve seen a ghost when Peter rounds the corner and into whatever room they’re occupying.

Peter missed May. He wished that he could still be in Queens, living in their apartment. Peter missed Ben and he missed the idea of his parents. He should have never returned. There’s no room for him in this world.

He hated how Harley took advantage of their situation. He hated that Harley had a family, a mother and a sister who returned and are alone and he didn’t go back to them. His family returned to him and yet he’s here with Tony. And he hated how Morgan took her family- her full, completed family for granted.

If Peter’s family came back to life there wouldn’t be anything stopping him from being with them. He would cherish every single nano-second if they were alive again.

And yet they all expected Peter to be okay. Adapted. Used to the future like he didn’t just blink and find himself lost and alone. He brings up that he misses May and someone frowns and tells him how long ago she died. How was that supposed to help him? No one even brought him to the cemetery. How is Peter meant to move on from a life that was stolen from him?

It’s not like any of them were okay. Tony and Pepper and Harley all crumbled as whenever there was a reminder of everything that they lost. Peter, unfortunately happened to be one of those reminders.

Tony and Pepper tried their best. They involved Peter in family bonding time and they tried their best not to flinch when Peter is unexpectedly there. Because they survived, they didn’t understand and talking to them led to dead ends.

He tried communicating with them. Cried over May’s death, had been confused about these new things that are actually years old. For them it was so long ago, a literal lifetime ago, so they never really saw the point in talking about these things. It wasn’t that they thought Peter would figure this out, they just assumed he already knew.

Talking to Harley didn’t really work that well either. He didn’t want to talk about the things Peter missed out on and when asked about his family he would shrug and say that he’s moved on.

And, well, Morgan was a kid. She was born in an empty world, told stories of people that she never should have met and now faced with the world doubling and not understanding any of it. Peter Parker was just a character is bedtime stories and now he’s a ghost who wants her home. She used to cry whenever Peter is around and still tries to hide behind people’s legs. 

God, he hated being this kid. Never wanted to be the one who envied others. Before- when it was still just May and Peter, he didn’t feel this gnawing inside him, while they didn’t have much Peter still had someone who fit all the rolls he needed. He hated being jealous, he didn’t feel this when he used to look at anyone who had two living parents.

He shouldn’t be here. Not in this room, which came decorated with everything Peter had loved before he died- and not alive. He didn’t fit. Not into this family who struggles with the idea he’s alive and not on this planet where the world is still mourning the people who came back. 

“Are you coming downstairs?” Harley asked.

Peter can’t be here. He had no right.

“I have a taxi coming to get me.” 

That wasn’t a lie. Something he scheduled last night at some point, between the tears and holding his breath. Peter didn’t think anyone would be awake at this time, Sunday’s were always the day that everyone slept in and Peter could just be alone outside of his room.  Sometimes he would just sit in the living room and other times he’d wander around the property, often ending up by the lake. By the time everyone would start waking up Peter would be back in his room with some breakfast and try not to bother anyone. 

“Okay, well it’s fathers day, so I think they might be expecting your presence in some form. We have plans and all that.” 

Of course they do. They always make plans where Peter only finds out the day before or day of. Maybe Peter has plans. They could consider that. Okay, maybe Peter never really has any plans, nothing more than trying to understand this new world. And maybe he didn’t make the active effort to find where he fit in this home, but he is the child and it shouldn’t really be up to him. Harley probably didn’t have to engage with the adults first. Tony and Pepper more than likely got input from Harley on their plans. 

With a sigh Peter nodded. “I’ll cancel the taxi.”

“Cool! I’ll tell everyone you’ll be down soon.”

Harley made sure to give a big smile, before heading downstairs, a bounce in each step he took. Peter really hated Harley for his happiness. 

Taking a moment after canceling the taxi, Peter tried to pull himself together. He forced a smile and pulled his shoulders back. All that needs to be done is sit and nod, occasionally laugh. Pay no mind to the way Morgan looks at him in fear, and don’t see the look of mourning on Tony and Pepper’s face. He needs to not remember Harley’s family alone in Tennessee. 

He went down the stairs and followed the noise to the kitchen. There was laughter and the sounds of dishes clinking against one another. It smelt of pancakes and cinnamon and hash browns and coffee. Standing here Peter could close his eyes and pretend this was seven years in the past, with him and May and Ben. He could imagine Ben making the food and singing along to the radio with May dancing along as she sets the table. But this wasn’t 2016, this was 2023. Instead it was a finished family forced to bring him in, a harsh reminder that he doesn’t belong.

Peter stepped into the kitchen, Pepper was just finishing up breakfast and Harley was setting the table. Morgan was sitting on Tony’s lap whispering into her fathers ear. Food was laid out ready to be served, with orange juice, iced tea and coffee all in their own pitchers waiting to be poured. He moved through the room, trying to not to intrude before sitting down at the table. It didn’t take much longer for Pepper and Harley to sit down as well, Tony moving Morgan into her proper chair. 

Everyone around Peter fell into easy conversation while he stayed silent, trying to focus on his food instead of the way Morgan was starring daggers at him. They talked about their favourite family vacations and laughed at their own jokes. Peter couldn’t help but feel like he was actually sitting out on the porch. This family had five years together, five years of memories and laughter, of love and pain, and Peter wasn’t apart of any of it. He wasn’t a part of any family, his own buried and far too dead.

“Peter, what about you? Did you have any Father’s Day traditions?” 

Hearing Harley address Peter pulled him back to this world, and welcomed in his deep rooted desire to have his family back. Harley had two families now and he left one completely. Abandoned them when they came back to life. And Morgan was sitting here glaring at Peter completely oblivious to the fact that she has her entire family and how privileged she was for it.

“Well I don’t have any memories of my parents, so I don’t think there were any traditions with them. The only people I could ask about that are now dead. Unless you consider going to the cemetery to go visit your dead father you can’t remember a father’s day tradition, then no.”

The entire table stopped eating, all sounds coming to a complete end. Everyone stayed still as if Peter was some volatile bomb that would explode if anyone nearby breathed too hard. He could feel his jaw clench, as he tried to breathe in and out. It wasn’t working.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Should I not bring up my very dead family? Was that inappropriate to say that my father is dead I have no memories? My absolute bad! Next time I’ll consider how uncomfortable it makes everyone here. I mean jeez, Harley has a whole family in Tennessee he hasn’t seen since they reappeared. You’ve got two whole families to choose from, Harls! What an accomplishment. And Morgan, well she’s older than I was when my parents died, so she’s definitely on the right track. And wow, I got a whole second set of parents out of May and Ben. Which was great until I watched Ben die. Until I die and find out while my death was temporary, May’s wasn’t. Whenever I want to be with my family I have to go all the way back to Queens and visit the cemetery. But you all just live in the same house. So genuinely, I’m sorry for not considering your emotions about my dead family.”

“Peter...” Tony whispered, reaching his one hand out to Peter.

Peter shook his head, pulling away, he didn’t want to see the empty eyes starring back at him. He didn’t want to acknowledge the way Tony looks at him with regret and how Pepper looks at him like he’s lost. He didn’t want to see how the three that lived through both snaps always held pain in their eyes. And Peter most certainly didn’t want to see Morgan, who had no idea how lucky she is, that she was born never knowing loss.

Peter didn’t want to see a family who was pulled together in a time of pain. He wanted to see his family. Peter wanted to look across the table and see Ben and May throwing little balls of napkins at each other. He wanted to be Harley and be able to go home and see his family whenever he wants. He wanted to be Morgan and do science experiments with his parents. Peter wanted the one thing he didn’t have, something that Harley and Morgan had an abundance of.

“I don’t have a family anymore. I never got to say goodbye to May. I would give up the rest of my life to see them again. And you guys just can’t understand that. You have you family. You get to see them whenever you want. I can’t ever see mine again. I can never go home. They’re gone.”

After all, Peter was just a ghost, another person who returned, who had been dead for too long. He didn’t belong in a world of survivors. Peter was just another person long gone who no longer fits into the world around him.

-

Taglist: Ask/DM to be added

@peter-is-a-bean @jean-and-diet-coke @dead-inside-pt2 @they-were-cloudsinmycoffee @parkersjiggle @7peternotparker7 @thatonecrackheadshipper @kevinthewoman @faline4you @lynxshinon @narutoyaoifan @pastelwheeler @thecrazymarvelfan @bonjour-gays @thebestqueenoftheworld

[soukokuwu]

ADA!DAZAI OSAMU

A BREATHING PAIN

》 angst, i caved (dazai x reader)

》 trigger warnings! death

》 word count: 2.6k

》 thanks @yokelish for this prompt, i went absolutely nuts and i still am

“where can i find another you”

When he thought of you, the first thing he could envision was your blissful expression. You never showed any sorrow on your face. Well, barely. Even if you did, it was only little snippets, and then you’d bury it deep within you, let yourself drown in it when you were alone.

How lonely must it have been to try and act that strong? Dazai knew of your act, though. He willingly let you get away with it. He was a terrifyingly observant person, and as much as he saw how sad you were beneath that tough act you put on, he also saw how badly you wanted to conceal it. And so he let you, by simply not questioning you.

He always wondered why it was that you were like that. It was the one thing he could never quite figure out. When he first got to know you, you weren’t as easy to read as other people were, but it wasn’t an impossible task for Dazai. Usually he wouldn’t even waste his time trying, but you were a peculiar little thing from the start, and so he attempted to do so.

You see— Dazai considered you a dear friend. The first one in a long time. Since Oda. He was unsure of the exact reason why, but throughout these four years that you’ve known each other, you were the closest he would let anyone could get to him. To interact with you made him feel different. With others it was almost a chore to even talk, but with you it felt effortless; comfortable.

You didn’t understand him completely, maybe just a little bit more than anyone else, but he appreciated that you didn’t pry; that you knew your boundaries. He was especially grateful that no matter how curious you were you would never let it show on your face just because you didn’t want him to feel bad. He could see through all of it of course, but he still thanked you silently for the attempt.

But what he thought he liked about you, he now hated. Dazai hated how you’d never tell him if you needed him by your side- you’d never tell him whenever you were falling apart. Dazai hated how you would hide every negative thing you’re feeling just for the sake of having smooth, easy conversations with him. He hated how much you tried to please him with every action. He hated how rarely there were ever any moments of intimacy between the two of you. He stopped as he thought about that last sentence. Or maybe, he thought, the thing he hated most was how much he was denying that single fact.

Dazai felt like a complete ass. It was like he knew you, but didn’t at the same time. Who was he kidding? He may have been able to tell what you were thinking most of the time, but he never questioned you about the reasons behind them. You could be sad and hiding it, he’d know that, but he wouldn’t know why. Who was he to say that he understood you? He started thinking he maybe never figured you out at all.

You never told him you needed him, you never told him there were times that you crumbled too. And so he pretended not to notice, doing his own things and living selfishly.

Tomorrows didn’t necessarily grant a future. It was something he wished he’d realised sooner. And thinking of you made the regret even worse. Not a day goes by without it haunting him— it was like the regret was injected into his bloodstream, destined to flow through him forever. He couldn’t leave it alone.

Why did you always insist on going through every hurtful thing by yourself? Sure, there were times when you undid the chains and let Dazai wander about in your mind— but now he regretted that he didn’t explore further. He always stopped himself before he got too far in. And he regretted that he had you tied up at his starting point. Why didn’t he grant your wish and allow you to trudge in further? Why did you let him make you wait there all by your lonesome, chaining yourself to the beginning? All you wanted was to know him, the dark parts, because you knew how lonely it was fighting alone. And yet you couldn’t achieve what you wanted.

And now here he stood— before your grave, as he did everyday for the past month since you passed on. He had thought of visiting you all day, and now that he’s here he felt even more depressed. A fresh bouquet of flowers in hand, much like every single day since you died. The non-existent courage to place it on your grave was the same for him everyday too. He just couldn’t. Everytime he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to. Why should he? He didn’t deserve it.

Why did he feel that way? Due to one simple thought that never left his mind: what right does the murderer have to put flowers on your grave when he put you in there in the first place?

That much he felt was true. As true as it was real that he did something unforgiveable.

He killed you.

Osamu Dazai killed you.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

The day you died—

Dazai stood before you, looking at your chest slowly rise up and back down, your eyes closed and unmoving. You looked so peaceful just resting there. There was a painful decision he had to make, and he had thought that looking at you would help him figure it out. But it didn’t. It just served to make him even more conflicted.

It wasn’t like he had anyone to confide in it about. You had no relatives— your parents died when you were young and your aunt, who had been your guardian, passed five years ago. You had been living alone all by yourself before you joined the ADA. No friends, no family.

He vaguely remembered the first few times the two of you hung out alone, you had celebrated the fact that you had made lots of new friends at the agency. It was a minor thing to be happy about, but then again you were a very lonely person, so maybe it wasn’t so weird after all. You were a reserved person and rarely spoke of your feelings about anything but that was one thing you let him see. From that alone he knew how much the people there meant to you. You deemed all of them your close friends. 

“Stop with your bullshit.”

The sudden accusation snapped him out of his thoughts. Dazai turned to face one of your coworkers, mildly surprised. Ranpo wasn’t usually one to show exasperation, and today he sounded especially frustrated and it caught Dazai’s attention. Dazai hadn’t expected to see him around either, considering how busy the agency’s been as of late.

“What are you talking about?”

“You already have an answer in mind, don’t you?” Ranpo asked him, looking at the ground in front of him. “Yosano couldn’t even heal her. We all know how bad it is.”

Dazai kept quiet. The only person who could come closest to guessing anything on his mind now was right in front of him. Hiding anything would probably be futile.

“I—”

But before Dazai could say anything else, Ranpo tutted and started walking away, knowing that he might let his emotions get in the way. What Dazai definitely needed now was more rationality, less emotions. He wasn’t sure why he came here, was it to urge him to make a decision? Or to try and convince him to make the right one? But then again, who was to say what was right?

Just before Ranpo turned the corner, he turned back, locking eyes with Dazai, his own green eyes sharp and unrelenting as he said, “You’re the only one she put as her emergency contact. It’s your responsibility. Stop wasting time.” And then he left, as much as he wanted to stay and fight for you.

A few hours later, Dazai was seated beside your body, holding your hand in his and bringing it up to his mouth. He kissed the back of it and let it stay there. He breathed in slowly. You didn’t even smell like you anymore. You usually smelled like gardenias, fresh and sweet. But now all he could smell was antiseptics and cleaning agents. Just like this whole hospital did.

“Her body is in so much pain. If this continues, I’m afraid it means that you’re simply prolonging her dying process.”

The doctor’s words rang clearly in his head. Dazai had said nothing then and simply walked away and back into the room. But he knew enough of what he was implying. You were on life support, and the doctor was just warning Dazai of the most likely scenario. It was just the day before. He didn’t tell anyone in the agency, they would just make everything harder. Ranpo figuring it out didn’t surprise him though.

Dazai looked at your face.

Are you in pain, my belladonna?

He was aware of the power that was in his hands now. To continue to fight for your life, or to alleviate the pain for you and let you go?

This is fucked up. This is so fucked up.

Your eyes, your voice, your smile, the way you scrunched your noise when you cringed and the way you pouted when you were playfighting with him. He had gone without any of it for a while and he was now actually having to entertain the fact that he would never see it again. His eyes travelled from your eyes down to your lips. He had a passing thought about what it would be like to be kissed by you, but now he would never find out.

You didn’t stop his suicidal tendencies but you made him feel excited for every new day. This was an achievement in itself already.

The person he spent countless nights with drinking, the one he let in after many years of closing himself off, even if only slightly, could actually be gone. He could lose you. It felt like a repeat and it actually hurt. For the first time in a long time, Dazai remembered exactly how it felt like. The helplessness. When he looked at you now his feelings mirrored how he felt as he looked at Oda for the last time, dying in his arms. He still remembered, no matter how much he didn’t want to.

If he could rewind time he would go and save his dear friend from the gallows, but that was not possible. What was possible now, though, was to save you. But would that be the correct choice? As he glanced at your face, he thought about what you might do. Would you choose to wait for him— if he ever got out at all? Or would you relieve him of his pain and finally let him get what he so desperately craved?

It didn’t take him long to figure out what you’d say to him now, though. Do what you believe is best, and don’t look back. He knew what he believed: There is nothing worth pursuing at the cost of prolonging a life of suffering. And you were suffering.

“You’re in pain, aren’t you?” Dazai asked, full well knowing he wouldn’t get a reply. “It hurts, doesn’t it?” Dazai struggled to keep his tears at bay as he combed his fingers through your hair. The regrets started coming to him, one by one.

The remorse he felt for not showing you enough affection, even the remorse of not understanding you even better hurt. You always told him of all the stuff you wanted to do but never got to, and he listened, he remembered every one of them. Throughout the years you had accomplished several of them, some with Dazai even, and now no amount felt enough for him. He wanted to give you everything you wanted, everything he could give. Sometimes Dazai would be too tired or lazy to do them with you. You always said there would be more time for everything. You always said you could wait.

But you lied. You don’t have time. You don’t have any fucking time left. You’re leaving and you can’t wait for me anymore. You’re leaving without me. If anything I was supposed to go first, damn it.

He would even try to open himself completely to you if it meant you could open your eyes again, live again. Anything to be able to make you happy. He silently wished it in his heart, and then stopped himself.

“I might as well ask for a piece of the moon,” he mumbled to himself, chuckling in self-deprecation.

At that moment, your doctor came in, warily eyeing Dazai. “So—”

“Do it.”

The doctor heard him and got stunned in silence at Dazai’s stoic tone. Then Dazai spoke again.

“Pull the plug.”

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

In the empty cemetery, the day turned into night and Dazai still stood frozen in front of your grave, rooted to the spot. He gazed at the lights in the distance impersonating falling starlight.

He saw them got reminded of walking alongside you one night by the beach. You had spotted a shooting star and closed your eyes, clasping your hands together and bringing them up towards your chin, making a silent wish. He never asked you what you wished for. But as you finished making it, he caught you mumbling to yourself, “I might as well ask for a piece of the moon.”

What did you wish for?

After a few more moments of conflicting thoughts, Dazai finally sat down beside your grave and opened his mouth to talk to you, the first time since you died. What else did he have to lose?

“I swear I won’t lie to you anymore. I swear I’ll do everything you want with you. I swear I won’t make you wait anymore,” Dazai mumbled, staring at your name craved in the stone, choking as he tried to get more words out. Tears were starting to blur his vision. His hands smoothed over the carvings. “You were more than you thought you were to me. I should’ve let you know just how much you were worth.”

He trailed away, sighing, the tears still flowing down his cheeks. Why was he speaking all these? Then he shook his head, realising exactly why. Because he was wishing an impossible thing. Telling you all of this even if you couldn’t hear him— in the hopes of you coming back to life? He could almost slap himself for how ridiculous he was being. Why did he feel like this when it came to you? Incomprehensible.

The pain he felt coursed through him— it was a breathing pain. It would stay with him as long as he was alive. It lived in every corner of his body. It was painful everyday, having to see that empty table where you used to be, having to drink alone once again without your company and knowing what he’s missing out on, having to be reminded of your beautiful smile everytime he saw the photo the two of you took together. Even the silence hurt. But the thing that hurt the most is wanting to see you again.

Dazai subconsciously shifted closer and leaned back against your gravestone, craving to be closer to you even if it was just an illusion. He hated this. When he closed his eyes he saw you. When he opened his eyes you weren’t there. And he didn’t know which one was worse.

I wish you were back.

I wish I could turn back time.

I might as well ask for a piece of the moon, huh?

“and we left everything undone”

[dramaticsnakes]

The Revived - Chapter 2: Connected

This is chapter 2 of the Dream SMP multichapter fic @rainbowbutterfrosting​ and I wrote together! I hope you’ll enjoy!

Thank you to @ r0w3n-1n-d0ugh for beta-reading this chapter.

AO3

Read in order (on Tumblr)

Characters in this chapter: Wilbur, Ghostbur, Technoblade

Word count: 3268

Cw: arguments, yelling, insults, miscommunications, recklessness, mentioned suicidal behavior, cursing, mentions of crying, mentions of food, jokes about drugs

Fic summary: Wilbur was alive, and it was such a magnificent feeling, that made his mind spark with anticipation. It didn’t take long, however, for Wilbur to realize that this new breath of life, was not just his own. An echo-y voice hides in the back of his mind, and before he knows it, the transparent version of him he saw at the endless train station, is a lot more ingrained than he’d expected him to be.

And Wilbur really shouldn’t care. Because he’d be damned, if he spent the life he’d awaited for so long, babysitting a lost cause of a ghost, stuck in the very same limbo Wilbur spent so long in. It was an even exchange, and one Wilbur wasn’t going to mess with. Why exactly he ends up setting out to get the ghost out of his mind, in order to save the both of them, however, is beyond him. And perhaps Wilbur’s past isn’t as easy to leave behind, as he’d hoped it would be.

Wilbur had barely acknowledged his surroundings until they’d made it to the house, tucked in among the mountains and the snow. Once Phil opened the door, Wilbur groggily wandered inside, recognizing the smells, and the familiar furniture, that had changed quite a bit, but still held the same atmosphere somehow. Wilbur didn’t have a home, but this house with all the strained emotions and uncomfortable attachments related to it, was probably the closest he would get. For now, of course, because Wilbur had plans, even if he couldn’t think of them at that moment.

As they entered the home, Phil turned to Wilbur, with narrowed eyes, wrinkling his nose. “No offense, mate, but your eye bags are deeper than the hole of L'Manburg. When have you last slept?”

"Haha, good one," Wilbur said, absentmindedly taking his first steps up the stairs.

Phil had hesitated, his eyebrows furrowed. "Wil, please tell me you've had some kind of sleeping schedule since you've returned."

"And I wished I had a house when I returned back here, we don't always get what we want." Wilbur had responded with a shrug, because it didn’t matter, really. Wilbur was alive, and he didn’t have to count the days anymore. He stumbled, grabbing the nearest stationary object he could reach to prevent himself from falling on the stairs. Phil sent him a concerned look.

Before he knew it, Wilbur had found himself in a room with a little bed that he wished wasn’t as appealing as it was. The mattress was soft, accompanied by the sheets, and Wilbur was brutally reminded that he hadn’t truly seen a bed for thirteen and a half years. Soon, he was tucked underneath a duvet and felt himself drifting off into a dreamless slumber, which was far better than the nightmares he’d half-expected.

He woke up to a plate of food, sat up, and ate a few bites before he fell asleep again. He wasn’t certain how much time had passed whenever he dared open his eyes. He should get up! He should face the world he’d been denied for so long, but getting up meant so many things. He had so little time to finish his work, though the darkness called to him, like a friend he never wanted to leave.

And the voice was there too, unfortunately, whenever he woke up. The cries, the whines, and the words that became clearer and clearer. Wilbur held his eyes open for a long time, as if he was in a staring contest with the ceiling, as the cries refused to settle. “Ugh, would you shut up for one second.” he groaned.

When the cries immediately ceased, Wilbur tensed up.

“You can… You can hear me?” was all Wilbur heard now, and he stayed completely silent. “Please.” the voice added after a short while, “It’s so lonely here.”

Wilbur almost feared his heart had stopped once again before he whispered: “Ghostbur…” it wasn’t a question, nor a statement. He wasn’t certain what it was, but perhaps he shouldn’t have said it.

“Yes!” the voice said, giggling with more relief than Wilbur had ever heard from anyone else, “It’s me, Ghostbur! And you’re Alivebur, right?”

“Alivebur?” Wilbur chuckled to himself, “I’m certainly alive, but I typically go by Wilbur.” If Wilbur could hear someone smile, he would describe it as the sound of Ghostbur’s voice.

“Oh, I’m sorry! It’s been a while since I’ve talked with anyone… Gets quite lonely here. Hey, where are you?”

“Phil’s upstairs. Maybe you weren’t here often. He had to make a bit of room up here since he didn’t expect my arrival.”

Minutes went by without a response from Ghostbur. Just as Wilbur was about to ask if he was still there, he heard the friendly voice again, “But… I’m sorry but this doesn’t make much sense to me. I- I’ve been to Phil’s house, and this doesn’t look like a house of any kind.”

Wilbur made a confused noise. “I don’t know if ghosts are constantly on weed or some other shit, but it’s pretty live laugh and love in here. Spruce shelves with some nicknacks and those little windows halfway covered in snow. Hey- I just realized. The windows are made out of spruce fences because Dad can’t see glass! That’s sorta neat.” Wilbur felt proud of his realization, even if someone else probably realized it before him.

Ghostbur’s voice on the other hand held a slight amount of fear, “Nono, there’s… I’m not really sure what this whole place is. It’s this big cylinder tube. It’s… It’s gray and there’s some benches here, but there’s also this really long tunnel! I tried walking to the end, but I- I don’t think there is one.” Wilbur’s heart dropped when he heard that. “Ghostbur… brown benches with some shitty lights in the ceiling?”

“Yes!” Ghostbur let out a soft gasp, “Have you been here before? Are we on some long-distance phone line? I- I don’t see a phone here.”

Wilbur thought for a moment, “It’s… It’s more than a phone line.” He should’ve remembered already, but his head was groggy. The transparent version of him, tears streaming down his face, almost as if they were burning him. The one who took his place on the platform. Wilbur didn’t know how to break the news to his Ghost counterpart. “I think you’re in my limbo.”

Ghostbur giggled, “I love limbo! I’m not very good at it though, whenever I play the pole just goes through me.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes at Ghostbur’s train of thought, “Nono, it’s… a little more serious than that.” Wilbur’s words became more spaced out, trying his best to avoid the actual topic.

“Does the bar actually hit me now?”

Wilbur awkwardly laughed, “No, it’s-” he quietly groaned from frustration, he’d never been good at breaking bad news to someone. “There’s no limbo bar.”

“That’s silly. How are we going to play limbo, with no limbo bar?”

Wilbur sighed, Ghostbur deserved to know, “You’re-”

“I know,” Ghostbur’s words were covered in child-like excitement, “we can just pretend there’s a limbo bar! I’ll go under it first.” There was silence for a few moments. “I did it! Now it’s your turn.”

“Ghostbur, this isn’t some kind of game.”

“It is though! I can’t find a dictionary, but if you try lookin’ in one of those, you-” Ghostbur quietly gasped, “Do you not know how to play limbo? Oh, you poor thing.”

When Wilbur spoke, his voice was louder than he meant it, venom dripping off each syllable, “You’re in prison. You’re never getting out and you’re stuck there!”

The silence that extended between them was louder than Wilbur could ever yell. “Ghostbur, I’m-”

“Wilbur?”

Wilbur jumped from the sudden noise, looking over and seeing Technoblade at the other end of the room. He seemed confused, which Wilbur thought must’ve been from the thought of him being alive and well, but it didn’t take him long to realize it must’ve been from talking- and yelling- to himself. 

“Is Techno with you?! How is he?” Ghostbur excitedly squealed. Not now, Wilbur responded in his head, but Ghostbur must’ve not been able to hear it as he rambled off other questions. Through his babbling, he could hear mentions of Tubbo and Ranboo, but most of it was muddled together from Ghostbur’s cheerfulness. 

“Hi, Techno!” Wilbur said too loudly. “How are you? I uh- hope you’re- it’s all going well.”

Techno raised an eyebrow, “I, uh… I guess it is. You’re back and stuff.”

Wilbur nodded, “Yeah, yeah I am.” 

Ghostbur jumped in, “Techie, it’s been forever! What adventures have you been up to?”

A rough silence extended between the three, time feeling more present by the second.

Ghostbur chuckled and whispered, “I think Tech is ignoring me like you were.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes which only made Technoblade even more suspicious of the newly revived man in front of him. 

“You alright? Phil told me you nearly died from hypothermia. Probably not the best way to reunite with your father.” Techno snorted quietly.

Ghostbur’s voice turned sadder, “But, I- that didn’t happen. I saw it myself, Phil gave you an enchanted golden apple and you guys hugged. Nothin’ bad happened, you did look a little uncomfortable though.”

That caught Wilbur slightly off guard, though he couldn’t quite respond properly or ask for more information. He nodded bashfully, “Yeah… uncomfortable is a word to describe it.”

“Yeah… hey, Phil told me to show you to the portal and stuff. He doesn’t want you dying again.” Although Techno didn’t say ‘literally,’ Wilbur could hear it clearly.

“Oh, Don’t worry! I can show him where it is! I’ve followed Ranboo through those portals a few times. He’s really nice. He seemed a little worried last time I saw him though, but Tubbo was there and he was also worried. Maybe we could give him a visit. We can visit both of them!” Wilbur heard quick echo-y claps, presumably from Ghostbur’s enthusiasm.

“Mhm, sounds like a plan.”

“Great…” Techno said, and Wilbur started to notice that there was something hesitant in the other’s posture. Something awkward, and restricted, though Wilbur found it difficult to place why. “Let’s go,” he said, gesturing with his head towards the door, and that was when Wilbur had no choice but to leave the comforting darkness. Perhaps it wasn’t too appealing after all because Wilbur had been alone for so long, so maybe it was time he saw how much the world had changed without him. Wilbur stood up from the bed and followed Technoblade out the door.

“Oh! I guess Techno is taking us to the portal after all. That’s great! Aliv- I mean, Wilbur! Haven’t you missed this place too? Did you even see this place, while you were alive? Did they-”

“Shh,” Wilbur said quickly and harshly, closing his eyes.

“Heh?” Techno said questioningly.

Wilbur’s eyes widened. “Oh, nothing! I was just thinking about something.”

“Thinking about something hush-able?” Techno said with a hesitant smile, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were hearing voices too.”

Wilbur chuckled awkwardly, though he didn’t say anything else on the matter.

He hardly had the time to consider what it was like to see Technoblade again because Ghostbur was certainly an unexpected turn of events. Wilbur had simply assumed that hearing the cries and the begging words had been a side-effect of the revival. One he would get rid of eventually.

Prime, he hoped he could still get rid of it. He wasn’t sure if he could handle all the questions in his own mind, let alone whatever it was Ghostbur was talking about. There had to be a way to break the connection because that was what Wilbur did best. It was getting rid of things once they were a lost cause, and Ghostbur’s situation was a lost cause, wasn’t it? Even if Ghostbur wasn’t quite bright enough to realize it himself.

Wilbur and Techno walked outside, the wind reaching Wilbur’s hair and face pleasantly, making him realize that it was before noon. He wondered for a moment, how long he had slept. Wilbur looked at the surroundings properly, now that he was no longer collapsing from exhaustion. “What’s that place over there?” he asked, pointing towards what looked like a solitary house, nearby Phil and Techno’s.

“Oh. That’s Ranboo’s place,” Techno said. He glanced at Wilbur. “You know Ranboo?”

“I met him briefly,” Wilbur simply said, remembering the moments after his revival. The way Tommy had stared at him with fear, Tubbo looking vaguely concerned, the new face that stood slightly behind all of them, and all the words that didn’t matter, because Wilbur was alive, and this was his sunrise. “What’s he like?”

“He’s good.” Techno said, “I don’t know how long he’s going to stay here though.” 

“What do you mean?” Wilbur asked.

Techno breathed deeply. “He just spends less time here is all.” He shrugged, “It’s not my problem. Plus I don’t think I’m the best choice for filling you in.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s with Tubbo now! I- I’m not very sure though, I just know they make each other very happy.”

Ghostbur had mentioned those names together before. The two stood next to each other, at the sight of Wilbur’s revival. Yet it was still odd to hear this stranger mentioned next to the man Wilbur remembered so clearly. The president of the fallen nation. Wilbur would almost say it was a failed nation, but that wouldn’t be true at all. A failed nation would leave him marked as a nobody. No, L’Manburg made everybody know his name. He even got power for a long while. It was all he could ever ask for.

“Soot?”

Wilbur slightly jumped, from the sudden noise, “Yes?” Techno let out a small laugh, but his eyes were tinted with concern that made it feel like it was supposed to comfort the two of them instead of being a genuine expression. “I’m not the best at conversations but I’m pretty sure that isn’t a yes or no question.”

Wilbur nodded, rubbing his eyes. “Sorry, ’m just a bit tired. Sleep works a bit differently when you’re alive. Well- I suppose everything is a bit different. What were you asking?”

“Just if you were gonna stay at Phil’s or if you want a house for yourself. I was uh… offering to help if you needed it.” 

“Awww, Techno is trying to be your friend. He seems all big and scary, but we were pretty close! Well- we never really talked or hung out much, but sometimes I saw him searching through some chests and he seems nice. I tried to offer him some blue, but Tommy said not to. Not sure why though.” Despite the topics he was discussing, Ghostbur’s voice stayed passively happy as Wilbur assumed would be a new norm. Yet, he’d never heard of this “blue” before. Maybe Ghostbur was on drugs after all.

“Actually, that might be pretty nice. I’ll admit L’Manburg was a flop, but my house won’t be! What should we call it? I’ve been thinking about what to call it if I started a new nation., or country, tomato potato, and- I think BimBom sounds neat.” 

Techno glanced back at Wilbur, “BimBom was the best you could do? Look, man- I don’t respect government. Y’know, that’s my main thing. But I wouldn’t even respect a girl-scout cookie organization named that.”

Wilbur pouted, “Hey, you try spending thirteen and a half years alone and come up with good ideas.” His words became sharper near the end, becoming defensive as he subconsciously thought Techno would be on his side.

However, Techno only gave him a confused look, “It wasn’t-” he bit his lip, gave Wilbur a quick contemplative look, and turned away, “Nevermind.”

“Oh no, he’s in a bad mood now. You should apologize,” Ghostbur’s voice whined in his head.

“I-” Wilbur was going to claim that he wasn’t going to apologize, but he realized he couldn’t say that without Techno hearing him.

“Don’t worry, everyone gets a bit tongue-tied. I’ll help you!” If only Wilbur could communicate silently with the ghost. “The first word is ‘I’m’ and the second is ‘sorry.’ Words can be a bit hard sometimes, but I’m sure Tech will accept your apology even if you’re a bit bad at it.”

Wilbur frustratedly sighed. He didn’t know if Techno heard it and was pretending not to, or if he genuinely didn’t hear the exhale, but Wilbur was grateful to not be called out about it. Once enough seconds had passed with what he felt was an expectant look from Ghostbur he mumbled a quick “‘M sorry.” just to get the ghost off his back. He caught a nod of acknowledgment from Techno, and let out another breath.

Simultaneously, Wilbur heard what sounded like a relieved sigh in his head. “There we go.” Ghostbur said, “Good job! You’re getting the hang of it, I think. I don’t like it when people are mad. It’s hard to tell sometimes, but it’s good to try to keep them happy.” there was something strained in the last words, as if they held a hint of something less joyful, that someone attempted to shove out.

“We’re here.” Techno stopped walking, only a few steps away from the nether portal. Wilbur instinctively ran his hand along the border of obsidian, it was cool to the touch, and vibrated with a low hum. “We were planning to make a path, but we always had other priorities too.” Techno explained. 

Wilbur nodded and walked towards the portal, only for Techno to grab his arm and pull him back. “For the love of subscribers, are you an idiot?” He heard Ghostbur mumble something, but he didn’t bother to pay attention.

Wilbur pulled his arm out of Technoblade’s grip, “Have nether portals changed since I was last here?”

Techno snorted, “No, but that’s exactly why you shouldn’t be going yet. I’ve got some armor back at my base, even some golden apples I can spare. Unless you’re-” realization spread across his face, “Oh that makes sense.”

“What makes sense?”

“This-” Techno sighed, “This is just a suicide mission, isn’t it?”

Wilbur made a small step away from Technoblade. “What are you even talking about?”

Techno rubbed his head, he looked like he was trying to relieve a headache of some kind. “Look, I know that it’s supposed to be ‘twice is a coincidence and three is a pattern,’ but…” Techno groaned, “I’m not gonna sugar-coat with you. You were reckless before you died, you thought you could walk into a freezin’ cold biome without anything on you, and I don’t need a third time to realize what you could be doin’.”

Wilbur nodded despite not necessarily agreeing with his claims. Wilbur didn’t want to die anymore, and Wilbur wasn’t going to die. That couldn’t possibly be that hard to understand. “L’Manburg was ages ago and I’m a grown man, I can handle myself.” It wasn’t his strongest argument, but he knew he was right in the end.

“You’re the same grown man that thought he could run a nation with one of your dumb protocols bein’ that you don’t wear armor. You might be able to ‘handle’ yourself, but I feel like you’re gonna do a poor job at it.”

Wilbur’s eyes burned with fire, because while he didn’t care deeply, not really, that didn’t mean it was something that could be brushed off so easily. “It- It wasn’t dumb. L’Manburg was my nation-”

“Surely you aren’t blind. It’s in ruins!”

“It doesn’t fucking matter if it’s in ruins! I’ve done more than you will ever achieve in your whole pathetic life.” He shouted harshly, “All you go on about is how you hate governments and orphans, and it’s because you’re nothing more than that. It’s not my fault that I actually make an impact in this world while you’re up in your stupid house because no one can stand being around you.” Wilbur’s chest was heaving at this point, both of his hands curled up into fists.

Technoblade spat out at Wilbur, “Oh my fucking Blood God, Soot. Fine- I promised Phil that I wasn’t going to let you kill yourself, but if you’re so passionate about blindly throwing yourself at whatever comes your way, then go at it.”

Wilbur practically screamed, “Fine, I will!” and with that, he threw himself into the nether portal and felt the purple wisps surround him so loudly that he couldn’t even hear Ghostbur’s pleas. 

[astraeagreengrass]

The Queen's Husband [8/?]

When her reign is threatened, the Queen of Ergona must find a husband to secure her throne.

Word Count: 3.020

Warnings: angst, I'm evil, very brief mentions of violent acts

A/N: f you're interested, I posted some visuals for this story here and here. Many, many, many thanks to @xbuchananbarnes​ for helping me with this chapter. I hope you like it ♡

Series masterlist

“The man that stabbed your uncle, Baron Zemo. He said something before he killed himself: Hail Hydra. I’ve heard these words before, Your Grace. I’ve heard them from the mouth of Joseph Rogers, the Duke of Arvenia and King Steven’s father.”

“What?” you gasped.

“It’s true, Your Grace. I swear on my uncle's grave! I would never lie to you, especially not about something this serious,” Peter quickly assured. The harsh wind and the deep purple shadows under his eyes made him appear much older than his budding years.

“I don’t doubt your honor, Peter,” you said. “But perhaps you were mistaken about the man you saw?”

The boy shook his head.

“As much as he tries, Lord Rogers is not very discreet, Your Grace. It was him, lurking in the shadows of the Keep. I know what I saw.”

Peter’s words were half a confession, half a desperate plea for you to believe them. You never trusted Lord Rogers - he was pompous and greedy - but he was your husband’s father. That made him your family.

Of course you knew there was at least a small amount of conspiracy in your Court - especially when it came to West Ergonans - but to think of an entire treasonous plot lead by your very own in-law? It was preposterous.

“He mentioned your mother, Your Grace,” Peter whispered.

You turned to him so fast the joints in your neck cracked.

“My mother?”

“Yes. He said a man named Sitwell,” Peter visibly flinched, and not from the cold, “stabbed her. In Geotach. And apparently Lord Rogers was the one to convince your father to announce her death as suicide, because no one would believe otherwise.”

An agonized scream rose from your larynx, spilling past your vocal cords. It nearly escaped from your throat, but you bit your tongue, coating your mouth in pungent, metallic blood. It made your stomach queasy.

Your mother’s death was discredited and you were ruled as a grieving girl, spinning tales to fill the void her absence left. It was told that you were sent to live in Foghar because the memories of Albeon were too much for you to bear, but in reality, it was exile: your father never forgave you for running away that night.

“You were supposed to die, Y/N. Not her!”

He passed without ever speaking to you again, leaving you his throne and his ghosts.

Not many knew the truth of your mother’s murder. Even less fully believed in you. This secret was kept under lock and key, in a vault safer than those beneath the dungeons of the Keep, and not one person would risk your trust by sharing it - not even with a good boy like Peter Parker.

Your uncle held his squire in very high regards, but not even that was enough to divulge your privacy.

“Who would Lord Rogers meet?” you mumbled tentatively. In your mind's eye, the words came out of your lips vermillion-colored.

“Thrice he met with Lord Pierce, the Marquess of Gormes. And in one occasion he met with a man I couldn’t recognize. He was white and dark-haired and visited the Keep in November.”

Your stomach churned with sickness and you desperately wanted to puke from sheer despair. You slapped a hand across your mouth, holding back a gag.

Lord Pierce was repugnant with his sleazy ways and sexist remarks, but unfortunately that was the normality rather than the exception. Gormes was very close to Arvenia as well, so it made sense that him and Lord Rogers were always together. But still...

Your heart screamed inside your ribcage for you to trust Peter. To storm the Keep to the ground as you scavenged for answers, overturning every stone and every rock. You wanted to take the clay from the bricks and shape them with your bare hands to the form of Rogers and Pierce, just so that you could tear them apart the way they did to you. Yet, your reason - the guiding voice of your reign, trained from an early age to be rational - warned you that there was no actual evidence.

It sounded you so much like your father, haunting your mind like the waves that nearly drowned you.

You wanted it to drown. And your enemies alongside it.

“Peter, I have a mission for you,” you declared. “Ride to the sacred city of Kamar-Taj. Find the Ancient One, tell her everything you just told me. Ride at full speed and stop for nothing. Wear the crown’s colors and hoist the dragon banner - it will ensure you safety on the road. Once you get there, the masters will provide you with food and shelter. If anyone asks, say you're on a special assignment given by Lord Stark before his accident.”

The boy's soft brown irises widened.

"Your Grace, I’m just a squire," he stuttered. "Only knights are allowed to hoist the dragon banner.”

You lowered the hood of your cape. The gale was still blowing fiercely and some pieces of hail slashed your cheekbone, yet you supposed it was more respectful this way.

"Give me your sword, Peter," you asked in the gentlest voice you could muster.

It was no more than a dress sword, more for decoration than anything. Peter was loyal, committed and diligent, but young. Too young. You sent a prayer to the Gods that he didn't pay for the sin you were about to commit.

With a flick of your hand, you mentioned for him to kneel. Natasha and Wanda stopped pretending they weren't paying attention to the conversation and turned, mouths agape with stupefaction.

You touched the sword to Peter's left shoulder, then his right, then his left again, and announced:

"Arise, Sir Peter Parker, Knight of the crown of Ergona," Mother, Maiden and Crone, please protect this boy. "Be safe."

You stood by the window until Peter’s horse disappeared in the foggy wastelands of the surrounding fields. The blood dried in your mouth and in your face, though your gums still tasted sour. There was no sundown, but rather just the sooty grey sky turning inky, as if the death of this day shouldn’t be granted even the simplest of ceremonials.

When night came, you returned to your chambers. People greeted you on your path, bowed their heads in respect, yet the hallways never looked more like a prison than they did then. At some point, Natasha held on to your elbow. Or perhaps it was Wanda. Maybe it was another one of your demons.

“Should we call for the King?” you heard one of them say.

“After what we’ve heard today, do you think the King can be trusted?” the other replied.

Above the fireplace, the Dragon on the tapestry mocked you.

Steve entered without knocking. His hair was longer, almost reaching his chin. He said he had no time for a haircut, but you knew he kept it that way because you liked it. Or so you thought.

He could be a liar.

He could be a traitor.

“Ladies” he greeted, his small smile thinning when he noticed your distress. “My Queen.”

Steve kneeled before you, just like that first afternoon in the rose courtyard. The sight of him made you miss summer and the simplicity of falling in love.

I love you, Steve, you wanted to confess. I love you but that’s not enough anymore.

“What’s wrong, my love?” he whispered and you knew you’d suffer in ways that not even Hydra could conceive if Steve’s love turned out to be a lie.

“We need to talk.”

A bang on his chamber door startled Sam Wilson awake.

In a flash, he grabbed the knife he kept under his pillow and rose, tiptoeing from the bed to the entrance.

“Who is it?” he asked in the most severe voice he could muster.

“It’s Wanda.”

He quickly twisted the lock, sighing when he came face to face with your handmaiden. The candle she was holding made her auburn hair look as if it was painted by the flames of a forest fire. She was hauntingly beautiful.

“You scared me.”

“My apologies, Sir Wilson,” she said. “But the Queen is summoning you.”

Sam nodded.

"I will make myself presentable. Should I meet her at her chambers?"

"No, sir. The Queen requested that you dress appropriately for the weather, and meet her at the stables. She has also commanded you to bring whatever weapons you can carry."

"What?" he exclaimed. "Did something happen?"

"These were my only instructions, sir. Please don't be long."

Wanda turned and rushed down the dark hallway before Sam could ask her anything else. The clock on his mantel told him it was a little past two in the morning. He'd gone to bed a mere four hours earlier, having spent all day reunited with the King and the Council going over the assassination attempt on Lord Stark. You hadn't joined them, but that was expected considering your bond with your uncle - Sam supposed you wouldn't leave Tony's side bedside until he was fully healed.

It wasn't the first time you called for Sam in the middle of the night. He was the Captain of your Queen's Guard and the Queen hardly worked regular hours. But the request for warm clothes and weapons was unexpected, if not suspicious. Still, Sam was fast to dress himself, tucking two daggers inside his boots for good measure before following the path Wanda took.

The Dragon Keep at night was an eerie, unwelcoming place. He didn't believe the legends surrounding your ancestors, but whenever he roamed the fortress at night Sam thought it might have actually been built out of dragon fire, if only for how hostile the hallways were - as hostile as a dragon's mouth, it seemed.

"It's meant to be a stronghold, not a home," you once said, and he wondered if you thought of that yourself or if you were paraphrasing your father.

Sam didn't encounter anyone on his way to the stables but a few wandering rats, yet when he got there he was surprised to see Clint Barton fixing the harnesses of four Thoroughbreds, attached to a black, inconspicuous carriage. In the corner, you, Natasha and Wanda whispered with your heads together. They looked up when he arrived.

"Finally," you said. "I thought I was going to have to come get you myself."

You were trying to be funny, but Sam could only stare at your tired face and sad-looking eyes. You looked stunning as always, in leather breeches and a cloak as dark as the night that waited beyond the gates, but forlorn, distant. As if your lips had never tasted joy and your spirit never roamed freely under sunlight.

"What is this, Y/N?" he asked. "Where is the King?"

Behind you, Natasha and Wanda glanced at each other.

"The King won't be joining us, Sam," you explained. "I need to go on a journey, and I need my best friend to come with me. My crown won't protect us where we're going, in fact, I don't know if it will be worthy of anything at all after tonight. So if you chose to stay I will understand."

Sam shook his head.

"This doesn't make any sense."

"I know," you whispered. "But I can't tell you anything else right now."

Sam Wilson was your first friend. He'd throw pebbles at the window to get your attention while you were studying at Arauta, the Duke of Foghar's ancestral home.

"How come you never play, just study?"

You told him then that you were the princess, and you had to be prepared for the day your father, the King, commanded you to return to the Capital. He giggled then, such a cheerful, melodic blast of glee that you were the trees still remembered it, and cherished the sound of his happiness.

"Yeah, right," he'd snickered. "If you're the princess, then where's your crown?"

When the crown came, Sam stood by you, as a comrade and Knight. And you couldn't help but feel like you were once again asking too much of him.

"Of course I'll go with you, Y/N,” he exhaled, past and present blending together in the space of his breath. "Someone has to look after your royal ass."

He hardly ever saw you cry, but you did when you hugged Natasha goodbye, whispering her a quiet be safe before the entering the coach. The Master of Whispers soon disappeared as the horses started their gallop.

The carriage was way past the city gates when your tears stopped.

The following morning, Bucky Barnes found the King slumped on an armchair by the fireplace of the royal chambers.

The knight was heading to the Armory when Steve’s valet intercepted him, babbling nonsense about the King being in shock and the Queen being nowhere to be found. At first, Bucky was doubtful. All was as it was in the Dragon Keep and perhaps the only thing out of the ordinary was the heavy snow that fell overnight, covering the lands and roads in a thick icy blanket. The staff was still spooked by the attempt on Lord Stark’s life, but the assurance that he would survive soothed their nerves a bit. Yet, the valet had such a haunted look in his eyes that Bucky caved, turning around and following the man to your quarters.

His first knock was light, and so was the second and third. When the fourth knock returned without even a muffled response, he turned the knob slowly, finding the door unlocked.

“Your Majesties?” Bucky announced his presence before entering. He couldn’t see the bed from the entrance, but, even so, he didn’t want to accidentally catch you in a compromised position.

Instead, he saw Steve, wearing the same clothes as the night before, turning your engagement ring on his hand. There was no sign of you.

Bucky mentioned for the valet to leave, before shutting the door. Whatever had happened, it was a conversation he didn’t need to hear.

“Steve?” he said, softer this time, approaching the King as one would an animal.

There were deep, dark circles under his eyes, and his face was puffy from crying. His hair was disheveled, rumpled like the linen shirt stretched across the wide expanse of his shoulders and back. The sparkling blue Sapphire of the ring was the only somehow still managed the catch the light in the dull room.

“Steve?” Bucky repeated, finally standing face to face with this best friend. “What happened?”

“She’s gone,” Steve croaked.

“What?” Bucky furrowed his eyebrows. “Who’s gone? The Queen?”

Steve nodded, still not looking up from the ring.

“She said she wanted some time away from the Capital. That what happened to Stark put ‘things in perspective’ for her and that she needed to think about us.”

“But… Where did she go?” the knight stuttered.

“Foghar,” Steve replied. “Sam and Barton escorted her. Her handmaiden went as well.”

Bucky was speechless. He’d bet his sword - hell, his sword and his armor - that you were as in love with Steve as he was with you. You weren’t friends, but after months living in Albeon and watching you interact with various lords and politicians, Bucky could understand why you were so guarded. A Queen’s life was full of hardships and loneliness. Yet, from his conversations with Steve - and how overjoyed he was with your seemingly growing affections - it seemed like your relationship was progressing well. Bucky never expected you to just leave.

“Did she say when she’s returning?” he asked, even though the answer was clear as day on Steve’s desolate face.

The King shook his head.

“I think I was wrong about Y/N, Bucky,” he sniffed. “And I think she was wrong about me, as well.”

“No pal, you can’t mean that,” Bucky exclaimed, leaning forward and gripping Steve’s shoulder. “Perhaps the attempt on Stark’s life scared her. He is very dear to her and maybe she thought it could’ve been you. I don’t know! But you can’t possibly think she doesn’t love you.”

“How can I not think that? She never said it. I gave her everything and at the first hardship she just… Runs.” Steve barked, his voice failing at the end.

He was broken. A thousand battles couldn’t ruin him, but you could.

Another knock came, and Lady Natasha entered.

“Your Grace,” she announced. “Lord Stark is awake. He calls for you.”

Steve gave her an affirmative nod and cleared his throat.

“I’ll see to him right away,” he turned to Bucky. “What are you doing today?”

“I was on my way to see Hill at the Armory. Maybe she can help identify the silver dagger Zemo used to stab Stark.”

For a few seconds, Steve was quiet. Natasha was still waiting by the door, implacable and impassive.

“I need you to do something for me,” the King said. “I need to you ride to Arvenia and escort my father to Court. Leave as soon as possible. I’ll send him a raven explaining that he should expect you.”

It was Bucky’s turn to frown.

“Your father?” he asked, puzzled. “Why?”

“Stark still has months of bed rest,” Steve explained as he laced his boots. “My father was once the Master of Coin. I could use his help.”

It made no sense. Steve’s relationship with his father was strained, to say the least. As far as Bucky knew - and he knew quite a bit when it came to the King - Joseph Rogers was far from being father of the year.

He wouldn't say so as Lady Natasha was still present, but he couldn't help the nagging sensation that this was Steve's way of getting back at you for leaving. And it was a shitty way.

Still, he bowed.

"Anything else, my King?"

Steve looked up, and his handsome face was still flushed and puffy from crying. He was so far from the man that Bucky always knew that it brought a cold dread to his heart.

"No," he replied. "Safe travels, my friend."

Bucky nodded and left the room, without hugging Steve goodbye.

[restlessmaknae]

youth is never coming back

Every year, on 13th June, he went to the graveyard. To remember. To forget. To say thank you. To regret. To let the tears fall and laugh with them.

♦ Characters: OT7 (Jin-focused)

♦ Genre: HYYH-based storyline, angst, drama

♦ Words: 8k

♦ Warning: mentions of phobias, mental disorders, suicide, physical abuse and major character deaths

PROLOGUE

It was 13th June.

Today − just like every year after I’ve turned 12 – I accompanied my grandfather who went to the cemetery to put some flowers on six particular graves. He slowly crouched down, accumulated all the fallen leaves and cleared the surface of each and every grave. Then, for long minutes, his eyes were staring far ahead and filled with bittersweet nostalgia. It seemed that something was eating him up; he was quietly struggling, clutching onto his chest, gasping for air and murmuring to himself.

When I first saw him, I thought that he was having an episode – it wouldn’t have been a surprise after all. But the moment I tapped him on the shoulder, he turned around to look at me and when our eyes met, I saw tiny teardrops shining in his eyes like beautiful sea pearls. He was definitely one of the most frightened creatures I have ever seen in my life. To my astonishment, he shrugged my help right away. He was stuttering, searching for the right words to say while I tried my best to help him but he didn’t let me – not even once.

As years went by, I became quite hesitant when I noticed that 13th June was just in a few days’ time. I asked my parents why I should go with him when I don’t even know the loved ones he’s visiting and they merely said the following:

“Your grandfather has a very tragic and sorrowful past. Since we can’t always give him a ride to the graveyard, at least you should be there for him. Once you will be old enough, I’m sure he would tell you what you need to know.”

That was it. Grandfather was always pretty reserved and secretive but until my first visit with him to the scary graveyard, I didn’t think much of it. After that, he became the definition of mystery for me. I knew that he had such a painful youth that everybody thought that it was a miracle that he was still alive; not hunted by ghosts and developing a mental illness.

It’s pretty weird to think of it that you have a grandfather whom people like to talk about and you still don’t know anything about him. Or at least, not those things that you are most curious about.

However, this year, it all became clear and I wished I hadn’t got all the answers this time. After his confession, several times I caught myself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and replaying his memories in my mind. I frantically flinched whenever I heard screeching sounds of tyres or someone lit up a cigarette around me. I was never the same person and I couldn’t look at him the way I did before. I even understood why he said that youth is never coming back whenever I had to face obstacles.

Because he knew it; he knew that I could get over them because my problem was never as serious as his. Or his friends’. My teenage years were never as devastating and definite as his. And luckily, I was never in his shoes and could never feel the way he did. Now looking back, I know I should have been a happier person, I should have respected my friends more and I should have loved my family even more. I should have said thank you and sorry and I should have said I love you as well.

Why? It’s simple. Grandfather thought me that you never know when things would start falling apart and you never know when you see the faces of your friends for the last time. You could never be prepared for when they will be gone. And not just figuratively but really.

Since you never know when they will die.

THE STORY OF LILIES

The day had come.

My ordinary school day went by in its usual pace and I never allowed myself to wander off and start worrying about my afternoon visit to the graveyard. It was kind of terrifying to walk by hundreds of graves and I swear that I even heard whispers once. Maybe it was just another family member who didn’t have the chance to say goodbye to the loved one who had died. But it was still scary and small wonder why it wasn’t a favourite place of an 18-year-old high school student.

Anyway, it was still better than neglecting grandfather who seriously needed company and a helping hand after granny had died when I was 12. Yes, that was also the time when I became his partner for his graveyard trips on 13th June.

As I was leaving after my last class and unintentionally slammed the entrance door in somebody’s face, I noticed a familiar figure sitting on a newly painted bench in the park which was in front of our school.

“Grandpa!” I exclaimed as I was approaching him and saw the lilies in his hands. It was always those lilies; he bought them every single time we went to those graves and there was always six of them. Six beautiful but stern piles of lilies.

“Nari!” A genuine smile was forming on his lips when he heard my fairly childish voice and began to stand up. I walked faster in order to help him and gave him a tight hug when we succeeded.

He was old, I was aware of that. 72 years could be considered quite old but he wasn’t old because of his silver-grey hair or bad eye-sight. Everybody knew why he was like that; because of all those horrifying things that happened to him when he was young. Some people were particularly surprised that he could make it to 72 years; some didn’t even expect him to survive after what had happened back then. And what I knew nothing about.

“How was school today?” He whispered while I was still hugging him and I was only able to withdraw when I had to answer. I suppose a frown was evident on my face.

“Tiring as usual,” I rolled my eyes in annoyance because what else could I say? School was tiring and boring as always. Nothing interesting ever happened there. Not like I wanted my life to be fast-paced but it wasn’t the least interesting.

“You should cherish these years as well. Once you will be old like me, you will regard this time of your life as the best one.” He stated absent-mindedly and I had this feeling again that he was referring to his own youth.

“I know, grandpa. But it’s hard…” I whined like a toddler and let out an irritated grumble.

“It is.” He nodded in agreement and his words were all part of his little secret; the one that only he knew. Maybe I wasn’t still old enough to know the truth.

We slowly fell into a comfortable silence. We didn’t even talk for the next 25 minutes except me asking him where we should sit on the bus. When we finally arrived at the graveyard, I started fidgeting anxiously because I exactly knew what was following. The same old sorrowful routine which I knew step by step.

As we were on our way to those particular graves, the almost touchable proximity to the dead made my heart beat in bewilderment. This whole mysterious, stern and terrifying atmosphere was lingering around us; the thought that one day I would be here as well always seemed to cross my mind. I couldn’t help nibbling my lips.

We were getting closer and closer and my heart was beating faster and faster. The moment we reached the first grave, grandfather turned to face me and said:

“Would you mind holding these for me?” He asked with a broken smile and looked down at his pale hands. He was referring to those six lilies which he was holding firmly.

“Not at all.” I mustered and grabbed the handful of flowers. I didn’t get it. Why did it always have to be those lilies? Why couldn’t it be roses or baby’s breath? Why couldn’t it be something that wasn’t connected to me?

He didn’t say more, so I didn’t know what to do. Should I let him struggle alone and stand a little bit further away – like always? Or would he need the flowers in the next minute?

“Grandpa…” I whispered hesitantly.

‘You can stay.”

The sudden permission struck me like lighting. I wasn’t prepared for him allowing me to stay. My blood ran cold.

I opened my mouth to say something but he had already averted his eyes to the grave when I was finally able to speak. Suddenly, he tucked his hands into his pockets and got out some polaroids. Judging from how torn they looked, they could be pretty old. He looked down at them and a minute of silence followed.

I didn’t even dare to breathe, the seconds seemed so unbreakable. I could only hear the sound of my crazily beating heart and screeching tyres from the distance. I was shivering.

Then, he chose one polaroid and held it in front of his face, examining it again and again. He didn’t seem nervous or scared, he was perfectly in control of his emotions. He was standing there – stern and brave – like a statue. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded strained.

“Kim Taehyung, my dear friend,” he cleared his throat and stopped after saying the name out loud. I only knew about this boy because he was once one of grandfather’s friends but I was never told whether he was still alive or already died. Well, obviously, I knew the answer by now.

“You were always a kid to me; a talkative, bubbly kid. I thought that you always saw the bright side of life and enjoyed joking around and teasing others. Your smile was something that made our days better. Your laugh was something that made us laugh as well. Maybe you couldn’t recognise it but you were the centre of the wheel.”

Grandfather’s words were lovely and heart-warming. My shoulders loosened as I started listening to him and even though the sadness in his voice didn’t go unnoticed, his words soothed my nerves a little.

“Soon I had to realise that this was just the surface,” he croaked and my heart almost missed a beat. “There’s no denying that you were the one who had to suffer the most. We were aware of the fact that your frequently drunk father beat you, your mom and your sister. We knew about your bruises that you tried to cover with your long-sleeved shirt and baggy pants yet they couldn’t cover them all. That’s how I recognised it first and alarmed the others but you didn’t let us help you. You said that you would try to find a way to make things right. But after the day when he beat your mom to death, you couldn’t take your anger back.” He continued with shaky voice and I was at the verge of fainting, sternly holding onto those lilies and trying to pacify my crazily beating heart. No, that can’t be. He couldn’t have done that.

“Everyone thinks that you were the motive of the whole butterfly effect; of us falling one by one. But even if it’s true, you need to know that we never blamed you. You had to do what was right; you had to save your sister and even yourself. It was self-defence and you didn’t mean to take your father’s life. We knew. But we also knew that you could go to jail because there was no evidence and maybe that was why you decided to end your own life. You were always a good friend, a brother almost and we thought that we could easily read your mind. However, on that day, when you climbed up on that platform, we didn’t have the slightest idea that you would do so. That you would jump off and leave us. You couldn’t see but we tried to save you – at least 5 of us. We jumped into the sea, one after another, trying to swim to the area you had landed but when we finally found you, your heart had already stopped beating. You can’t even imagine how long we tried to cherish the thought that you weren’t dead and there was still hope. We tried to resuscitate you but there was no response. You were the first to leave us.”

My nerves were frazzled, I could barely breathe. I had never once imagined Kim Taehyung committing suicide because of his father. I had never once imagined any of grandfather’s friends ending their own lives. I couldn’t even muster a single thing as I started to puzzle up his words.

“Thank you for being a resilient fighter and caring brother! Your sister had the chance to live a full, happy life thanks to you. She now has children and even grandchildren but my favourite one is her first-born son…” He confessed coyly, his cheeks tinted pink. He looked down at the photo and then up again. A pearl-like teardrop was already shining in his eyes when he continued. “His name is Taehyung.”

I had to look away in order not to start weeping. Even if I didn’t have the chance to meet him, I was sure that he was such a lovable person. I already respected him with all my heart as he sacrificed so much because of his family.

“Thank you for being with us, Kim Taehyung,” he whispered, silently crouching down and putting the photo on his grave accompanied by one pile of lilies. Then, he bowed and my heart ached for him. I helped him to get up and we moved onto the next grave. There, he hold onto another picture and started talking – with only a mysterious half-smile just like before.

“Park Jimin, my dear friend,” he pondered and got his grip together. “You were always a delighted, open-minded and positive person. You didn’t let any day pass by without your trademark eye-smile appearing on your face. You gave in so easily and joined us in whatever stupid thing we wanted to do. You were always radiant. However, as they say, you can fall the hardest from the top of the world. And that day−“he trailed off and paced out for a moment or so. “That day literally broke you.”

I peered over grandfather’s shoulder to look at the next polaroid. All I could see was a charming, black-haired boy at around the age of 18. He looked beaming and satisfied like nothing on Earth could bother him. There was actually no boy like him nowadays; everyone was either busy and stressed or greedy and selfish. He must have been a lovely person to be around.

“Taehyung’s death affected all of us but you were the one who couldn’t take the pain. It was mostly because of shame. Because you couldn’t save him and couldn’t even intend to save him. You had aquaphobia from a very young age and seeing him jumping into the water made you more terrified than ever. You had a constant fear of water and when we all jumped in to save him, you were standing there, frozen and absolutely devastated. I saw the commitment in your eyes when we pulled Taehyung to the surface but you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t swim and it drove you crazy. You were screaming and walking up and down on the harbour like a lunatic, tears constantly sliding down your cheeks. I could see that there was hope shining in your eyes when we managed to get him to you. You didn’t know then that he was already dead, just when you tried to listen to his heartbeat. You couldn’t hear anything. Anything at all,” he said, his voice barely audible. There was a moment or so when he suddenly stopped and I thought that he would start crying but he didn’t. He stayed strong, firmly holding onto the picture like it could bring Jimin back. I was the one who was already on the edge of tears.

“After that, there was no turning back. You were lost in the maze of confusion, shame and regret,” he shook his head and his voice suddenly became so raspy. “When I heard the news, I couldn’t believe it. You left us, you ended your life in the same way Taehyung did. You drown yourself in your bathtub. I don’t know if it was because you thought that you would do justice to his memory or because you wanted to overcome your fear. Whatever your reason was, I just want you to know that you shouldn’t have blamed yourself. It wasn’t your mistake, Taehyung wouldn’t have blamed you. He also wouldn’t have wanted you to follow him,” he continued and my world suddenly became numb. How was that possible that such wonderful people decided to end their own lives? Just by thinking about it, my heart broke into tiny little pieces. The world was all wrong.

“Thank you for being a loyal friend and a sunshine in everybody’s life! Boyeon’s also doing fine but she couldn’t fall in love with anyone else. Your bond must have been too strong to let her fall for any other man. She still has that angle-like smile – like you called it – but it’s slightly broken now. As she loved you till the end, she still does,” he crouched down, put the polaroid and another lily on the grave and stood up again. I had no idea who Boyeon was but I puzzled up his words and assumed that she was Jimin’s love. I couldn’t even imagine her pain; loving someone and waking up one day to the thought that this someone was already in another world. “Thank you for being with us, Park Jimin,” he bowed slowly and respectfully, his eyes full of affection and concern. Every of his words were sincere yet heart-wrenching and I couldn’t be prepared for what was following.

“Jeon Jungkook, my dear friend,” we moved onto the next grade and grandfather looked at another torn picture. It showed a young boy with a cheeky smile and the most wonderful pitch-black eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. His childish features couldn’t hide the fact that he was younger than his other two friends but he was also so tall compared to another guy who was beside him. I soon realised that the one who slanged his arms around the boy’s shoulder was actually grandpa. Of course, in a younger version, with his fluffy chestnut-brown hair and chocolate-brown eyes. They looked so happy, it hurt to look at that scene.

“You were always a bit shy and more introverted than the others but we still liked you like that. We somehow managed to break down your walls and it turned out that you were actually quite amusing. You even teased your hyungs but never went too far. You always helped me when I wanted to cook something and you were always there when any of us needed company. You were truly an amazing friend,” he whispered with awe and looked up at the grave. It must have been hard for him, seeing that this was the only thing that Jungkook had left off. I felt the same when grandma died; I tried to cling onto the beautiful memories, the touch of her beloved books, the scent of her pillow but it eventually faded away. Memories became shorter and more distant, her scent was faint and her books were given away for charity.

“I never thought that you would fall apart like that. You were always the one who were good at everything and couldn’t even hurt anyone. Of course, you had enemies because they were jealous of you but you always fought back. Yet, going home after Jimin’s funeral, you let them hurt you. They beaten you up, they kicked you, they punched you in the face and you didn’t fight back. Not even once. When they realised it as well, they abandoned you in an alleyway and God knows how long did you stay there. You probably wanted to go home when you crossed a road but the traffic light was red. The driver of the car didn’t notice you in time and hit you. Even the ambulance couldn’t save you. When they arrived, you had already died,” his voice shook a little as he said ‘died’ out loud. I felt like my heart was in the abyss of sorrow; it gripped me from the very first word and didn’t let me go. I was shivering and my mind was full of crazily scattered imaginations. Pain was slowly engulfing my heart and encaging my thoughts. I gulped.

“Thank you for letting us see your beautiful soul! You were the most unselfish friend we’ve ever had. It’s cruel of this world to take you away from us because unlike Taehyung or Jimin, you didn’t want to end your life. You just wanted to forget about the pain. I hope, wherever you are now, you can’t feel pain. I hope you smile there like you always did and watch out for me,” he suddenly looked up at the sky, his eyes wandering, looking for Jungkook’s place among the invisible stars. His lips were slowly dissolving into a bittersweet smile. “Thank you for being with us, Jeon Jungkook,” he croaked and looked down at his own hands which were holding the polaroid tightly. He let out a sorrowful sigh. His hands were slightly shaky when he reached out to me, waiting for another pile of lily. I handed it to him but my heart broke when our eyes met. The usual affectionate glint in his eyes was gone; it was replaced by grief. I had never seen him so broken.

When he put the flower and the polaroid on the grave, he waited a minute before he stood up. I saw as he tried to wipe away his tears with his thumbs. I knew it was still not the end of our trip but I didn’t assume that he would hold back his tears for so long. Maybe it was because he rather accepted his friends’ decisions than the twists of fate.

Then, he reached out to another polaroid and started talking again.

“Min Yoongi, my dear friend,” he let out a sigh and cleared his throat before he continued. “You had a lot of different sides but despite being grumpy in the mornings, you know that even the younger ones really liked you. You were exceptionally hard-working and when you put your mind to something, you could always succeed. You were also quite amusing and made us laugh several times. The kids liked to tease you about being lazy but you would never mind their bickering. You would never admit it but deep in your heart, you really cared about all of us. You were the first to jump into the water after Taehyung committed suicide and the first to break down into tears when you heard the news of Jimin’s death. But as you always said, your biggest fear consumed you in the end,” he drew another heavy sigh and shifted his gaze away.

I respected him with all my heart; how he could talk about such sorrowful things was absolutely honourable. He didn’t hide anything, his soul was completely bare yet full of wounds. He was almost like a moon flower; it bloomed in the dazzling moonlight until its worst enemy approached the flower. Like the sunlight for the moon flower, memories were grandfather’s toughest opponents. As soon as the sun came up, as soon as memories began to tear him apart, he closed. I hope I could help him this time if he wanted to close again.

“You had pyromania but you could control it well, even experts didn’t believe in your progress after you had showed signs when you were young,” he slowly shifted his attention back to the grave, his eyes full of the most beautiful shining stars of dismay. “Your parents always cared about you but you became distant with them and even moved out when you had turned 20. So, they stated that it was because of us; we were the ones who motivated you to control your urges. You didn’t even start a fire when you were with us, just sometimes played with the lighter but nothing serious. However, after the death of three of our friends, you couldn’t take it back. When you were around us, you didn’t show any sign of fear but at home, you probably struggled a lot because in the end, that’s how you ended your own life. By burning up your room and yourself. Doctors said that when you started the fire, you just wanted to relieve tension and never actually thought that you would die because that’s how addicts think,” he trailed off and gulped. His lips were quivering. “It didn’t help to wash our pain away,” he stammered with subtle voice and that was the moment when he didn’t want to hide his tears anymore. He lifted his head up, his eyes shining with proud teardrops, slowly spilling down his cheeks.

“Thank you for always caring about us and overcoming your fear when you were with us! You were such a strong and brave person because you were able to say no to your urges and lead a healthier life. You taught us how to fight against our enemies, even if it’s our own mind who we fight against. There are so many things that we could learn from you and you had a huge influence on the younger ones even if you wouldn’t call it that,” he said and stopped for a moment. “Thank you for being with us, Min Yoongi,” he bowed respectfully, almost in a 90-degree angle. 

Soon, the first teardrop landed on the surface of the grave. He wasn’t crying helplessly like a starving person craving for food; he was merely sobbing silently like he didn’t even want to break the peaceful silence. I also tried not to bother him but I couldn’t take my tears back. The more I played his memories in my head, the more I wanted to cry. I was wretched, wounded and enraged at the same time. How could this world be so cruel? How could fate write such endings for these boys? It didn’t seem right. The world suddenly became a big, cruel mess for me.

Grandfather put down the picture and the lily on the grave without any word. I tried to wipe away my tears but to no avail. As much as I wanted to run away and cry until I dozed off, I also wanted to stay beside him until the end. I still had some questions to ask and I still believed that I could only do justice to grandfather’s friends if I listened to all of their stories.

“Jung Hoseok, my dear friend,” he stepped to another grave and got out another polaroid from his pocket. It was torn as well but the smile on the boy’s face was so radiant that I couldn’t see anything, expect his joyful grin. He was the definition of that so-called light, someone whose smile was definitely sincere. “You were always such an energetic, light-hearted person, a beaming light in the darkest times. You never really cared whether you looked ridiculous until you could make someone smile with your behaviour. You smiled a lot and laughed a lot. When we were down, you were the one who pulled us through the hardships and showed us that there are always happier times waiting for us. You were caring, sincere and loyal, a truly amazing friend. I’m sorry that we couldn’t help you,” he suddenly admitted and his voice sounded so weary and extremely painful. “I’m sorry we couldn’t find a way to help your insomnia.”

I gasped for air; I felt like the words triggered so many emotions at once that the atmosphere became unbearably suffocating. I found it even harder to breathe as he continued.

“You had to take pills for your disorder and it helped at first. You said that you still found it hard to sleep at nights, mostly because of pressure to do well on your exams but you slept well when you could. We were relieved. It never affected our friendship since you controlled it well like Yoongi did but we were still worried about you. Your smiles were the only ones that could set us at ease. However, the more of our friends died, the more you couldn’t sleep. The pain was even unbearable when you were awake, so I can’t even imagine how much you could have struggled because you weren’t able to sleep. You mentioned that the others were hunting you in your dreams when you finally fell asleep and it scarred you to death. You didn’t even think it through, you just took more and more of those pills and it helped to release some of the pain. One day, you went too far and overdosed yourself. I wish it hadn’t happened like that. You, like Yoongi, probably didn’t know what you did, just wanted to get away from the pain. I wish we had done more but we couldn’t,” he shook his head in disbelief and went silent for some seconds. My tears kept sliding down but I didn’t mind. Sometimes tears could say more than words; sometimes it was the only way to show how we really felt.

“Thank you for being a warm-hearted, considerate and cheerful friend! Thank you for being our guiding light in the darkest times and showing us that life is beautiful even if obstacles occur. Thank you for making us smile when even you weren’t in the mood to smile. You were the one who we could lean on and you always put others’ happiness before yours. You were the source of light and joy in our lives. Without you, our days would have been so much harder,” grandfather sobbed and looked more broken than ever. “Thank you for being with us, Jung Hoseok,” he cried out in pain and dropped to the grave.

I immediately hurried to him, observing if his condition had anything to do with his poor health but it didn’t seem so. When I gently patted his back, he turned to face me and I didn’t even know how to phrase the expression on his face. You know, when you see a sun going down and you have this ambivalent feeling, that odd combination of happiness and sadness. Looking at the sunset, you are aware that something is over and something is still on the way. Maybe that’s how I could portray him; he was terribly hurt and somewhat gloriously calm at the same time.

“Grandfather−“ I started but was cut off by him.

“It’s okay. I-I will just need some minutes to re-arrange my thoughts,” he muttered and I obligated, still in the state of shock. I didn’t even intend to stop my tears from falling because I didn’t want to. All I wanted to do was to let it all out and clear my mind. I was terrified and his memories were haunting me whenever my eyes were slipping shut. There’s no doubt that I believed him, I believed every of his words but I still couldn’t believe the fact that life could be so cruel to them. Having 6 friends is an amazing gift but losing all of them is a horrible curse. How would anyone expect you to move on and forget the pain? I’m not at all surprised that grandfather had episodes several times and even spent years at a mental institute. Now it was all clear why.

Some moments later, he got up again and put the photo with the lily on the grave. He didn’t hesitate before he took a step forward to the last grave. He let out a sigh. He looked at a new photo which showed a laughing guy sitting on the floor, half of his face covered by his hoodie.

“Kim Namjoon, my dear friend,” his voice came out hoarse as he started to speak. “You were always like the leader of the team as you took care of each of us. You liked to tease us when we made a mistake but never forgot to support us whenever we needed encouragement. I guess you put a good balance between strictness and affection. Even if the younger ones liked to make fun of you and your hilarious dance moves, you couldn’t really mind. You liked to make us laugh and know that everything’s going well,” he stopped and pursed his lips a little. My heart always melted a bit when I heard the beginning description of grandfather’s friends but immediately became icy when he continued. The case of Namjoon was no exception.

“You were an orphan; your parents adopted you when you were only 6 years old. You spent your whole life at an orphanage and began to work in the hope of renting a flat for yourself. You worked at a gas station, helping customers but people looked down on you, especially after hearing those rumours about us. Some even stated that Jungkook was hit by either you or me and some said that we encouraged others to commit suicide. The worst was that they began to think that we would follow them, that we would also commit suicide and almost waited for us to do so. They feared you at the orphanage and you started to fear yourself as well. I remember having a talk with you one day about the future. You said that I needed to survive, no matter what. To prove them wrong. I had no idea then that you said that because you wanted to end your own life,” he shook his head in disbelief and his whole body was trembling. 

Even though sunshine was filling up the afternoon silence of the graveyard, everything was grey for me. I didn’t feel warmth, I didn’t feel happiness, I only felt pain and sorrow. I couldn’t imagine that I would ever commit suicide but under such circumstances, I quite understood why these boys did. Not only did they have to wake up each day for the absence of their friends but they also had to bear the gossip and people around them. Not only did the world abandon them but also people who should have helped. What kind of wicked game was it?

“One day, you were left alone working at the gas station and no customers were in sight for a longer period. So you casually lit up a cigarette, then throw it onto the ground and let the flames unite with fuel. According to the CCTV cameras, you perfectly planned it because there wasn’t any sign of fear or regret on your face. By the time the neighbours noticed the fire, the gas station had already exploded. The firefighters could put off the fire but they couldn’t save you. You left me without saying goodbye, just asking me to survive,” his voice shook a little as the last words left his mouth. Tears were streaming down his face, slowly and augustly. He still remained invincible, he still stood there like a wonderful state of art.

“Thank you for being the glue within our friends. Without you, we might have fallen apart but because you were always there, we maintained our relationship despite any arguments and the growing tension as our friends were leaving. Thank you for always encouraging us to keep going and helping us to find our ways. We needed a compass like you to know where our map is leading us. Even though you left us, left me, your last message was important and I never forgot what you said,” he sniffled as he put the photo and the last pile of lily on the grave. He remained silent for a minute and didn’t even budge a bit. “Thank you for being with us, Kim Namjoon,” he broke down into tears and heavy sobs again as he said goodbye to his last friend.

He crouched down, burying his face in his hands while he let out all those tears and pain which he held back during the previous year. Even if he didn’t make noise, even if he didn’t scream violently or yelling at those graves, it was still extremely difficult to look at him. He was hurt, he was broken and he was all alone. His friends left him and nobody could feel the way he did. Nobody could understand him as well as they would have done if they hadn’t died. He was struggling, he was dying every single second, yearning after his friends.

“You all left me by 13th June and I couldn’t do anything but suffer. I missed you and it hurt so much. The pain was unbearable but every time I thought I would give up, I remembered what Namjoon had said and lifted my head up. Because people needed to know what kind of friends I had. What beautiful and brave friends accompanied me throughout my younger years. You were my youth and the moment I was left alone, it was all gone. I know that you are never coming back again,” he cried out in pain and didn’t move for the next 30 minutes.

Chaos erupted in my head as I also fell onto the ground. I cried so hard when I remembered for what grandfather had always said to me. It all made sense now.

Youth is never coming back.

EPILOGUE

“Grandpa?” I asked hesitantly as we were sitting on the bus, heading back to my parents’ house. It was, I believe, almost half an hour after we had both let out all our emotions.

“Yes, Nari-ah?” he looked at me curiously, furrowing his eyebrows in question. His eyes were still a little bit teary and swollen but so were mine. I don’t remember crying so hard for so long all my life before. I must have looked scary and terrible but I didn’t mind.

“I have some questions,” I stated confidently but the reluctance in my voice didn’t go unnoticed. I didn’t know whether or not I had the permission to ask questions but I was undoubtedly curious. “Would you mind answering them?”

“I would be surprised if you didn’t have questions,” he responded and his face slowly dissolved into an affectionate smile. “Of course I wouldn’t mind answering them. Go ahead!” he encouraged me and even pressed my hand gently which he was holding for some minutes now. We didn’t talk after we had left the graveyard but grandfather’s hand immediately found mine. His touch soothed my nerves a little and I guess he wasn’t the only one who needed reassurance.

“Did you make those polaroids?” I started, still trying to erase all those delighted faces from my memory. It hurt so much. Knowing how little did the world need to push them off the cliff. One moment, they were together, laughing freely and teasing each other and in the next minute, it was all falling apart. They were gone, one by one, until grandfather was left alone, in the abyss of endless sorrow.

“I’ve made them myself,” he nodded slowly and pondered over for a thought. “I got a camera from my parents when I turned 18 and I always tried to capture our happiest moments. As I was rummaging through a cupboard last week, I found these polaroids and thought about giving them to the boys,” he continued absent-mindedly and the fact that he still called his friends ‘the boys’ made my heart ache. He was right, they were still boys when they left him, but it was heart-wrenching to think about it.

“Okay, then,” I gulped and mustered all my courage. “Who was Boyeon? Was she Jimin’s love?” I inquired and a slight twinkle appeared in his chocolate-brown eyes.

“Ah, yes, I forgot that you don’t know her,” he massaged his temple nervously as he realised that I had never even heard of Boyeon. It wasn’t a surprise since there was a big chapter of grandfather’s life that I was never permitted to read. Yet, now that he shared it with me, maybe he could also answer some of my questions. “Yes, indeed she was. But I guess they were more than lovers, they were almost soulmates. Their bond was so strong and despite Jimin suffering after Taehyung’s death and pushing her away, Boyeon never once thought of leaving him. They met a year before Jimin died and we were so happy they found each other. Boyeon was a truly wonderful young lady; smiley, optimistic, cheerful, childish and a little bit cocky. We ate together several times as she always cooked meals for us and she actually liked spending time with the 7 of us,” he continued and a kind of bittersweet nostalgia seemed to have taken hold of him. He was smiling sheepishly, simply out of the sudden joy that the memories triggered.

“How is she doing now?”

“Well,” he rubbed his chin, probably wondering how he should phrase what he wanted to say. “I had a phone call from her last week and she said that she was doing just fine. But if you want to know, she could never fall in love with another man after Jimin had died. She was beautiful and captivating indeed, lots of boys wanted to approach her but I guess she never felt the way with them than the way she did when she was with Jimin. I believe that’s what they call ever-lasting love,” he said absent-mindedly and turned to face me again. I think it was obvious that was only my second question and not the last.

“How did you know about how your friends died? I mean, in Jungkook’s case, you wasn’t there when those guys attacked him,” I gestured intensely as I tried to let him know what I didn’t get. His narration was so real, like he saw everything with his own eyes but it was impossible.

“Well, in Jungkook’s case, I only know about this particular detail because after they had filed a police report about the accident, those boys also admitted what they had done. They felt shameful because he died after they had beaten him up, so they wanted to report themselves. As for Jimin, her mother was the one who found him in the bathtub and every sign and the doctors’ examinations implied that he had drown himself. It was the same with Yoongi and Hoseok; the investigations showed that their disorders were the cause of their death. And for Namjoon, it was the CCTV that revealed everything,” he looked out of the window while he answered but I couldn’t blame him for it. It must have been so difficult for him, even if it happened decades ago. Even if I was only listening to the boys’ stories and not experiencing it, I was still in the state of shock and I assumed that I would be for a long time.

It was maybe the most sensitive topic which I was about to broach but I couldn’t hold it back anymore. It was time for me to ask about him.

“And what happened to you? That’s why you were at the mental institute, right?” I looked straight into his eyes which suddenly widened.

“How do you know about that?” he wrinkled his nose nervously but his tone wasn’t abusive, just merely curious.

“Grandma told me once,” I admitted with a sheepish smile but he didn’t seem to mind it. I was always a bit nosy and when I once freaked out about grandfather’s mysterious atmosphere, she shared this little detail with me. It was not too long before she died and I guess it’s one of the reasons why I would have never wanted to ask about his youth.

“And your grandmother also told you that she was a nurse at that mental institute and that’s how we met?” he glanced at me but I couldn’t even muster a single word. My jaw dropped and my heart missed a beat. I mean, I knew that grandmother was a doctor but she was working at a hospital as far as I could remember. “Before she became a doctor at the Yangji Hospital, she was working with me and other patients at the institute. I couldn’t make sensible decisions then, so my parents got me out of university and decided that it would be the best if I stayed at a mental institute. I stayed there for 6 years. Your grandmother was my consultant and helped me through all those dark years,” he smiled thankfully and still didn’t let go of my hands. 6 years. 6 friends. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

I didn’t want to ask more about his years at the institute because it must have been a hell for him. I didn’t want to dig too deep and there was still a lot of time for us to talk about it or at least I hoped so. However, this confession explained why grandmother and grandfather’s relationship was so strong and admirable. They were always close and didn’t even raise their voices during any kind of argument. They were patient and considerate towards each other. As far as I could remember, they had a long and happy marriage.

“And why do you always carry lilies with you?” I asked as my last question but it piqued my curiosity from the start. “This has something to do with the fact that my name means lily?” I glanced at him shyly. My name was Nari which meant ‘lily’ in Korean and knowing that everything had a meaning in grandfather’s life, I was suspicious about the flower as well.

“Well, you know people always bring lilies to the loved one’s graves. But do you know why?” I just shook my head. I had no idea. “They say that it symbolizes that the soul of the departed has received restored innocence after death. This is also why your name means innocence and purity. I just wanted to protect you from all those terrible things that my friends received by suggesting this name to your parents and they somehow accepted. I hope you don’t mind,” he coyly scratched the back of his neck and looked at me, his eyes full of fear. Love sprung through my veins and I felt my heart melting after his affectionate words.

“No, I don’t mind. Actually, I love it,” I bobbed my head thankfully and gave him a thankful gaze. He smiled back at me and when we got off the bus, we still didn’t let go of each other’s hands. He needed me just as much as I needed him. He shared my secret with him and so I shared my youth with him.

[jalapeno-princess]

Until We Meet Again

Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: Angst

Warning: Mentions of death, depression, a very sad Mark (I’m so sorry) suicide (and the reader has cancer) so please don’t read if you’re easily triggered

Word Count: 11.4K

Summary: After getting the news that you had stage four brain cancer, your boyfriend Mark makes it his responsibility to make sure your last days on earth are some of the best days of your life.

A/N: I had an idea about writing an imagine based on the movie “A Walk to Remember” I highly recommend it if you haven’t seen it it’s one of my favorite movies but make sure you have a box of tissues ready because it’s a tear jerker. I actually started tearing up while writing this because I can picture how sad Mark would be if he lost his significant other. I debated for a while on whether or not I should post this but I decided to do so, read at your own risk. I also listened to “XO” by Beyonce when writing this so feel free to listen to that while reading.

Your love is bright as ever Even in the shadows Baby kiss me Before they turn the lights out Your heart is glowing And I'm crashing into you Baby kiss me Before they turn the lights out Before they turn the lights out Baby love me lights outIn the darkest night hour (in the darkest night hour) I'll search through the crowd (I'll search through the crowd) Your face is all that I see I'll give you everything Baby love me lights out Baby love me lights out You can turn my lights out

“She has stage 4 brain cancer. I’m so sorry, but there’s nothing we can do. Y/n only has 6 months left to live, if she’s lucky. We’ve done all there is we could do Mr.Tuan. You just have to make the most of her time left.”

Have you ever been in a situation where you physically felt your heart sink to your stomach? That’s exactly how Mark was feeling when your doctor brought him in to his office to give him the bad news. Just a few hours ago, you had passed out at work and were rushed to the hospital. Your coworkers felt as if it could have been from exhaustion or malnutrition since you were currently working on a business deal that had taken up all your time and energy. However, a few of the EMTs felt like there was something else, unfortunately something worse that was going on but they didn’t want to assume anything until an actual doctor examined you.

While you were sleeping, the resident doctor had the nurses run an x-ray and some other tests on you. It was then that they found a tumor in your brain the size of a quarter. Since he was your emergency contact, your boyfriend didn’t hesitate in leaving his job and practically sprinted towards the hospital to be with you.

You weren’t one to ever get sick. Sure, you had a few colds here and there; and there was one time you had the stomach flu, but that was it. You were one of the healthiest people Mark knew. Not only did you exercise on a daily basis, but you tried to watch what you’d eat and drank. After practically escaping two speeding tickets, he parked in the hospital’s parking lot and stormed in to the emergency room. He was so in shock; Mark wasn’t physically able to form coherent words as the receptionist asked him what he was doing there. Luckily your name fell from his lips on instinct and he was sure he probably looked like a mad man with his body frozen and eyes wide opened but he didn’t care. He was so worried for your health and your safety, nothing else mattered to him in that moment.

The receptionist gave him your room number and he murmured a quick thank you before storming his way down the hall. Mark hated hospitals; they were extremely eerie and creepy. Other than pregnancies, nothing good ever came from hospitals. Your boyfriend was completely aware of your hatred of having to stay in the hospital, so his mind wouldn’t stop wandering to you and how you were doing.

Once he made his way in to your room and saw you sleeping peacefully on the bed with a bunch of wires and tubes hooked on to your body, he released a breath of relief. However, he felt himself tense up at the sight of you looking so exhausted and so small. The bags under your eyes were prominent and your face was so pale; he was sure the image of you looking so fragile would be etched in to his mind for a long time.

He hurriedly made his way toward you and sank to his knees, reaching for your hands and leaving soft kisses on the back of them. He then began to run his fingers through your hair while whispering sweet nothings in your ear. When he realized there wasn’t a chance of you waking up any time soon, he decided to call your mom and let her know what happened.

You and Mark have been dating for almost 6 years and you’ve known each other for over 10. Other than your family, Mark was one of the only people you genuinely loved and trusted with your entire life. He was your best friend, your soulmate, your safe haven and you meant equally and if not more to him as he did to you. From the beginning of your friendship up until now, he had a close relationship with your family to the point where sometimes you felt they loved him just a little bit more than they did you. With that being said, it was only natural for him to want to inform your mom of your current well-being and the fact that you were in the hospital after fainting.

Mark wasn’t one who could just sit around and do nothing, especially when the love of his life was currently in the hospital; so he began pacing back and forth around the room waiting for your parent’s arrival. When the door opened, he was quick to turn around expecting to see your mom walk in, but he felt his anxiety levels rise when a doctor entered the room.

“Hello, I’m Dr.Phillip. Are you a relative of the patient?” Mark shook his head in disagreement before motioning to you.

“I’m her boyfriend.” Your doctor released a long sigh, one that Mark picked up on as a negative sign.

“Could you follow me for a moment? There’s something I need to tell you about y/n.” As much as he didn’t want to leave you alone, with the way the doctor was acting, he had a feeling it had to be serious. Something didn’t feel right, he knew there had to be a bigger problem other than fatigue and stress going on with you. His assumptions were soon proven true once the first few words fell from the older man’s mouth.

“We found a tumor in her brain. Unfortunately, we found it a little too late. I’m surprised it took so long for her body to react to it, but sometimes the cancer spreads slowly without her body having any side effects.”

Once Mark heard the word cancer, he felt as if his whole world collapsed. There was no way you of all people could have cancer. He couldn’t think; couldn’t breathe. Everything the doctor said went through one ear and out the other. His entire chest felt as if it was about to combust.

“There’s no way—the tests have to be wrong—y/n can’t have cancer—she’s so healthy—she takes such amazing care of herself—you have to do the cat scan again doc there’s no way—“ When Mark began to sob and sink to his knees, your doctor walked over to him and tried his best in comforting him. This had to be a nightmare. The thought of losing you was one he couldn’t bare to accept. He had to be dreaming. All he had to do was wake up and you’d be right there next to him, smiling at him adoringly like nothing was wrong. But deep down he knew this was real, and he’s never experienced this type of pain before.

“What—what can we do for her? Chemo? Is there any drugs she can take? Surgery? You guys can remove it can’t you? That’s your job! You’re supposed to save lives—please—please save my girlfriend—I’m begging you. She’s too young to die—I—I can’t live without her.”

The blank expression on the doctor’s face answered Mark’s question for him and soon he was practically screaming. He didn’t care if he was over reacting or if they’d bring security to kick him out; he was just told that his girlfriend, his best friend, the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with had terminal cancer. There was no way he could act civil and calm in a situation like this—he wanted to die.

“I’m so sorry son, but there’s nothing we can do. The tumor is too big for us to take out and even if we could, this is her brain we’re talking about. One wrong move and you could lose her even sooner—“

“Please don’t say that. I’m sure there’s so much more you assholes can do this is a person’s life we’re talking about. My person! The only person who means anything to me! If it was you, if it was your child, your wife, your mother, your sister, someone you cared deeply about, I’m sure you’d be acting the exact same way as I am right now.”

Your boyfriend was extremely stubborn. Sure, he was very polite, kind-hearted, soft-spoken and generous; but whenever it came to something he was genuinely passionate about, he wasn’t afraid to speak up and fight for what he felt was right. No matter who he was speaking up against. Mark was aware of how disrespectful he was acting toward your doctor, and he was trying so hard to understand the fact that the older man was doing his best in helping you, but it wasn’t enough for him. He did the unthinkable and sank to his knees.

“Please, do whatever you can to keep my girlfriend alive. I’ll do anything.” Dr.Phillip gave your boyfriend a few minutes to calm down before motioning for him to stand up.

“If she does chemo, it’ll prolong her life for a few more months. She has stage 4 brain cancer. I’m so sorry, but there’s nothing we can do. Y/n only has 6 months left to live, if she’s lucky. We’ve done all there is we could do Mr.Tuan. You just have to make the most of her time left.”

Mark let out a scoff before storming out of his office and making his way back to you. His tears were hot against his cheeks as they fell and he practically broke the door as he opened it, not wanting to be away from you any longer. As soon as his eyes landed on your mom as she held your hands in hers, his tears began to overflow as his sons grew louder.

Your boyfriend wanted to be strong, especially because he had a huge feeling things were going to go downhill once he gave your parents the news. Out of all your siblings, you and your mom had the closest relationship. Mark knew just how much you meant to one another and he knew the only person who loved you as much as he did was her. So he was confident her world would come crumbling down just as his did once he heard about your condition.

“Mark sweetie, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” He took no time in pulling her against his chest and continued to sob in to her hair. His grip was tight on her shoulders and countless apologies fell from his lips only worrying your mother even more than she already was.

“Y/n—y/n—she—she um—stage four cancer—brain tumor—6 months to live—“ he couldn’t even finish explaining to her what the doctor told him before she sank to the ground in hysterics. Hearing her cries fill the room was all too much for Mark to handle. It was a slap in the face by reality that this was really happening and he was going to lose you.

The two of them stayed like that on the floor for what felt like hours to Mark just holding one another while crying uncontrollably. Nurses came in and out of the room to change your iv and to see how you were doing, but it was overwhelming even for them to see Mark and your mom breaking down. After a few moments, your parents wanted to speak to the doctor themselves, leaving Mark all alone with you and the negative thoughts that were taking up his entire mind.

6 months. He had approximately only 6 months with you. How was he supposed accept this information? 6 months was nothing, not when he believed he was going to spend the rest of his life with you. What was he going to do? Two days went by and Mark did not leave your side once. At all. He informed his family and a few of his close friends about what happened and the love and support he was receiving from everyone was nice, but it wasn’t enough to fill the hole that was now in his heart.

He couldn’t eat nor has he gotten any sleep since he heard about you getting administered in to the hospital and everyone started to worry for him but they knew not to get involved. You were all Mark knew and wanted to know. From the time he woke up to the time he went to sleep, you were all he ever thought about. How much he loved you, how much you meant to him, what your future together was going to look like; he couldn’t get you off of his mind not that he ever wanted to.

To his dismay, both your parents and his parents forced him to go home and get some rest, telling him that you wouldn’t be happy if you knew how he was acting towards this entire situation. Everyone was hurting for him. Anybody who knew the two of you were completely aware that if soulmates existed, you and Mark were each other’s. Wherever you went, Mark followed. Whatever you did, Mark did too. The two of you were like magnets; peas in a pod. It was completely understandable for him to be acting like this. Your boyfriend felt like a stranger in his own body. He felt lifeless. Even when he went home, your absence was taunting him. All your clothes, pictures, makeup, your little trinkets; they were driving him insane.

One day, this was all going to be memorabilia. Things that you’ve owned; it would only remind him of your untimely death and he wanted nothing more than to punch a wall out of frustration. The only thing he did once he walked through your shared apartment was take a shower. Showering felt like such a chore to him. What normally took him fifteen to twenty minutes almost took an hour because he just stood there crying.

If he was already acting like this while you were in a coma, Mark was afraid of what life would be life if you were to actually leave. Almost two days later, Mark got a call from your mom telling him that you were awake and that you knew everything. He found himself asking Jinyoung to take him to the hospital because God knows he wouldn’t have been able to drive there himself. Jinyoung had to calm him down as they waited for the elevators and it seemed as if his patience was at an all time low.

Right as he was about to make his way to the stairs, the doors opened and he fumbled with pressing the buttons to your floor. Your entire family was waiting outside of your room and he felt a pang of hurt hit his chest with every sympathetic look he was receiving. He felt selfish for wanting to be alone with you, but once he walked in to the room and saw that you were awake, he practically threw himself at you and wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m so glad you’re awake, fuck—shit I’m sorry baby��I’ve missed you so much.” He stole a kiss from the corner of your mouth and didn’t even hold himself back from crying. His choked back sobs made your heart ache and you found yourself erupting in tears also. Your parents quietly made their way outside to give you both some space as the two of you held each other and cried. He began leaving chaste kisses all around your face and cupped your cheeks with his hands before roughly connecting your lips together. His lips were salty from the tears and you knew he hasn’t been taking care of himself with how chapped they felt, but you missed the feeling of his warm lips on yours and you wanted him to kiss you as much as he desired to. To his dismay, you pulled away to catch your breath and placed your forehead against his.

“Mark.” He hummed softly in curiosity as you made room for him on the bed. “Hold me?” He gave you a sad smile and joined you on the bed, all but gently wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you on top of his lap.

When your mother informed you about your cancer, you couldn’t believe a word she was saying. You’ve always read stories and watched videos about other people getting diagnosed with cancer and you always felt so sad for the patients; especially with everything they had to go through. You just never thought that it would happen to you. Nobody thinks something bad will happen to them until it does. You cried with your mom; the idea of leaving this earth before really getting to experience your life felt unreal. You didn’t want to be without your family, your friends—Mark.

When she gave you the bad news, your mind immediately drifted off to your boyfriend. Did he know? Of course he had to, you faintly remember your mom mentioning how he got in to an argument with your doctor, held her as she cried and how he always stayed with you for the last few days. You knew Mark would take your diagnosis the worst. Seeing him so pale, so emaciated brought tears to your cheeks. He was always so sensitive and so emotional which was one of the many things you loved about him. But with the way he pampered you, took such amazing care of you and needed to be with you as much as he could only worried you. You were afraid of what he was going to do once it was your time to go.

“You haven’t been eating have you, you’re already so skinny. You need to eat—“ his brows furrowed as he tightened his grip on your waist.

“How am I supposed to do anything at a time like this y/n?” You frowned although you knew where he was coming from. You brought your fingers up to his face and playfully attempted to lift up his lips in to a smile but he wasn’t having it.

“Smile for me baby, please? I’ve missed seeing your award winning smile. I’ve missed you. I didn’t even realize how long I’ve been gone for.” He looked at you in disbelief; as if you grew another head.

“How are you being so positive right now? I feel pathetic. Like I’m failing as a boyfriend. I’m supposed to be strong for you, hell, I’m not even the one going through this but I can’t seem to stop crying. What is wrong with me?”

You ran your fingers through his soft, brown locks and sent him a broken smile. “You’re human my love. It’s okay for you to be frustrated and upset. I was when the doctor talked to me. I almost didn’t believe him at first—I mean I didn’t want to believe him. Who wants to die? I’m only twenty-four years old. There’s so many things I want to do and now my life is being put to an end before it can even start. It isn’t fair, but I’m trying to stay positive about it because I don’t want to remember wasting my last few months here on earth being depressed about something that I have no control over. If it’s my time, then it’s my time. I know God has a plan for me and that he’ll take good care of me; so we just have to take this one day at a time.”

Mark’s chest began to heave against your back and you turned yourself around in order to hover on top of his lap. You brought your hand up to cup his face and wiped away a few of his tears.

“Y/n, I hope you know, that I love you with every fiber of my being and I’m going to spend every single day with you to the point where you’ll probably get tired of me but it doesn’t matter. You’re not going to suffer through this alone, you hear me? I’m going to be by your side every step of the way. Please tell me if there’s anything I can do for you to make this situation a little more easier. I’ll do anything for you.”

You beamed up at him and playfully stole a few sloppy kisses while toying with his fingers. “Why don’t you make a bucket list? I want you to come up with anything you want to do and I promise I’ll do my best to make sure we do it.”

No matter how upset and heartbroken you were over your diagnosis, your heart felt so warm with the way Mark was treating you. Even before the two of you started dating, your boyfriend was always so kind and gentle whenever it came to you and he always put you first in every single situation. Looking at him hurt. Knowing that you would no longer get to feel the warmth of his embrace; kissing his pretty, pink lips; hearing that beautiful contagious laughter of his sent a painful sensation to your stomach. The love you had for one another was indescribable.

He was like your lifeline and you knew he was suffering with retaining this information. If it was the other way around and he was the one who was sick, you would probably die of heartbreak. You never wanted to be without him and it was the same for him.

“Oh like anal?” He looked at you in disbelief before his choked up laughter filled the room.

“I mean—if that’s what you want baby—don’t make me laugh y/n. God, what am I going to do without you?” You shook your head and hid your face in the crook of his neck.

“Can you do something for me Mark?” He quickly nodded in agreement knowing he would do anything you asked of him in a heartbeat. “Let’s pretend as if nothing is wrong with me? Okay? I don’t want you to look at me as your sick girlfriend. I don’t want to be treated like a cancer patient. I want to live what’s left of my life freely. I know it’ll be hard, but I don’t want us to be sad.”

He took in a deep breath and nodded softly in agreement. The two of you stayed like that for a couple of moments, just basking in the other’s presence. Some of your family members and a few nurses came in and out of your room every so often but neither of you really paid them any mind. You were too focused on each other. Just a few days later, you were released from the hospital and were given the okay to return back to work with the responsibility of not overworking yourself. You were also given medication along with a meal plan to help with prolonging your health.

The doctor who helped you throughout your entire stay recommended chemotherapy and even waved your entire hospital fee. Mark knew it had a lot to do with their conversation a few days prior and even if he was an asshole to the older man, he was very grateful for all that he tried to do for you in the short amount of time you were administered.

Mark wasn’t lying when he said he was never going to leave your side. Wherever you went, your boyfriend trailed right behind you. He attended every single doctor’s appointment, went with you grocery shopping; he even went with you to the bathroom and patiently sat on the floor. As much as you hated being a burden, you knew he was adamant on spending as much time with you as possible. When you were released from the hospital, you began to plan out your entire bucket list together. You tried to make it as realistic as you could; but you threw in a few things that were extremely out of the box.

“You want to skydive? But you hate heights.” You shrugged indifferently.

“I know you used to hate whenever BamBam and Yugyeom would say this, but yolo. I also want to go skiing in Colorado and bungee jumping in Hawaii. You gotta keep up with me Tuan.”

He grinned at your sarcasm before continuing to look over your ideas. “Wait—you were serious about the kinky shit? Bdsm y/n? I mean—don’t get me wrong baby I’m all for it but—“ you rolled your eyes and playfully shoved his shoulder.

“Can’t have sex in the afterlife so might as well make the most of it while I still can. By the way, I mean it on you. I’ve always wanted to use a blindfold on you and tie you to the bed.”

“How are you going to explain all of this to God when he asks about your sinful decisions?”

“YOLO.”

The more time you and Mark spent together, the more he’d forget about your sickness and short amount of time left on earth. If he didn’t think about it, he would enjoy his time with you. But the more he’d listen to you laugh at something cheesy he said or the way you’d hold on to him while the two of you lounged around on your days off made his heart hurt.

He knew it was the moments like these that he was going to miss the most. When it was just the two of you having fun, enjoying the other’s presence. Mark would never show you that he was extremely miserable because he didn’t want you feeling worried or upset; so he found himself crying in the shower and sometimes in the middle of the night while you slept peacefully. You were so strong during the entire process and Mark was so proud of you for fighting so hard.

Only two weeks after your stay in the hospital, you decided to quit your job in order to focus on your boyfriend, your friends and your family and to spend your days doing things you loved without having anything to stress over. One by one, you and Mark began to cross things off your bucket list. As much as you wanted to travel around the world, you knew that there was more important things you actually had to spend your money on; but what you didn’t know was that your family secretly purchased both your’s and Mark’s tickets and even paid for your hotel rooms so that you and your boyfriend could experience your dream adventure together.

The two of you took a tour throughout Europe; you have always dreamt about going to Greece and Italy from the time you were a little girl and you had thought that one day you’d be able to do so with Mark. Your trip was everything you could have ever wanted and more. You got to visit every monument and scenic point that was on your itinerary, ate till your stomachs were full and took pictures practically everywhere. Everything was so exciting to you that you failed to notice your boyfriend taking hundreds of photos and countless videos of you.

On his downtime, he began to make a album in his phone dedicated to you with thousands of both pictures and videos of you from the time you started dating up until now. He even printed out numerous about of photos and started a photo book that he could look back on whenever he missed you but deep down, Mark already knew he would never be able to look at any picture or photo of you without crying a river. When the two of you returned back, he gave you no time to unpack your things and surprised you with tickets to Hawaii.

Besides Europe, Hawaii was in your top three places you wanted to travel to because of how beautiful it looked in photos and because of the love you had for the beach. Mark even booked a skydiving appointment on your initial first day and although a huge part of you was scared out of your mind to fall out of a plane that was 20,000 feet in the air, you felt like you could do anything with Mark by your side. It was such an amazing experience; you felt so free, so powerful. Seeing how far you were from the ground was intimidating, but the comforting caress against your wrist made it all worth your while.

You both spent every second doing something adventurous; rock climbing, atv cruising, zip lining and horseback riding. He also took you to a couple of beaches and the two of you would just cuddle up on the sand and watch the waves crash up on to the shore. It all seemed too good to be true; you had no responsibilities, no worries, no regrets and you were traveling the world with the love of your life. You couldn’t have been more happier.

However, everything seemed to come crashing down the minute you started chemotherapy. Your doctor explained that chemotherapy helped with extending your life and you took any chance you were given. When you and Mark arrived back home from your trip, you went straight to your doctor’s office and began scheduling your chemotherapy sessions. You’ve read countless horror stories about the negative effects of chemotherapy and it was in those moments, hearing about how lethargic and exhausted you’d get, the loss of appetite and how quickly your hair would fall out made it all the more real that this was actually happening.

Your hair began to fall out during the first session and you decided to shave your head bald before it could actually fall out completely. When you took a look in the mirror, you cried for what felt like hours. You felt so ugly; especially when your eyebrows started falling out. This caused you to lash out on Mark every so often; you grew extremely unhappy and felt so insecure no matter how many times Mark reassured you that you were still and would always be the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid his eyes on. Your boyfriend hated seeing you so bothered with the way you looked knowing that there was nothing you could do about it.

As much as he despised hearing you talk so negatively about yourself, he knew it was only natural for you to act this way. To your surprise and your delight, you woke up that next morning to the sound of a buzzer and when you got up out of bed to find the source of the buzzing noise, it was then that you saw Mark shaving both his hair and his eyebrows off. Your heart felt so warm and you were sure it was about to combust with all the love you felt for the devastatingly handsome man in front of you. You didn’t know what you did to deserve Mark; he was nothing but patient with you no matter how harsh you could treat him some days.

He knew you didn’t mean it, anger and hostility was a side effect of the chemo and the only thing he could do in order to help you was support you and be there for you no matter how rude you were treating him. “I hate how good you look with no hair, it’s unfair. Thank you for doing this for me by the way—you don’t understand how much it means to me—how much you mean to me. You mean so much to me Mark—you mean everything—I love you more than I can put in to words.”

He giggled softly before kissing away the tears that were coming down your cheeks. “I guess you haven’t seen yourself these days. You look breathtakingly beautiful baby. I’m so sorry you have to go through this; I know I say it every single day but it’s the truth. It’s so hard for me watching you suffer and not being able to help carry this burden with you no matter how badly I want to. I want you to know that you’re so fucking beautiful y/n. With and without hair, with and without make up, with and without eyebrows. With and without clothes—ow! I’m being serious stop being abusive. Don’t you dare for one minute think you’re ugly, you hear me? I told you I wasn’t going to let you go through this alone didn’t I? Come on my beautiful cry baby, let’s go take some pictures of our adorable matching bald heads. Honestly, I think we look ten times better, who needs hair?”

A wise man once said, time flies when you’re having fun. As the days continued to go by, you only grew weaker and you had to slow down with your movements. Most of your time was spent in your apartment, but it didn’t matter. You loved every single minute spent cuddled in to Mark’s chest. Mark was constantly reminded of the little time you had left as he watched your frame only get smaller and it was driving him insane. Life wasn’t fair. Your boyfriend didn’t think he was a bad guy.

He was religious for the most part; attended church every so often but prayed every single day. He never smoked nor did any drugs and only drank on occasion. His grades were impeccable; he strived for A’s and B’s and never accepted any lower grade; so why was he being punished? Why was the only good thing that’s ever happened to him, the only thing that has ever meant anything to him being taken away from him so soon? And you; you were such a bright, happy-go-lucky, golden-hearted person; why did you have to suffer and go through so much pain?

Your boyfriend decided to give you something that you’ve always wanted after talking to his friends about the idea. He was going to ask you to marry him. There were so many times where the two of you talked about your future; where you wanted to have your wedding at, how many kids you’ve dreamt of having, where you wanted to settle down—he couldn’t believe he was never going to be able to experience any of these milestones with you, which is why he found himself sneaking away while you were asleep to ask your parents for their blessing.

Your mom smiled softly at him when he brought up the idea of marrying you; it was the biggest smile he’s seen on her since you found out about the cancer and your dad was extremely supportive about the whole thing. In fact, your parents offered to pay for the entire wedding. Whatever you desired, they were willing to give you. Before he could leave, your mom pulled him in to a hug and comfortingly ran her hand along his back.

“I’ve never seen someone love another person as much as you and y/n love each other. From the minute the two of you began dating, I knew you guys were meant to be. You make her very happy Mark. I’m so sorry this had to happen. But thank you for taking such amazing care of my baby girl. Just know that you are the reason why she’s still alive. She’s going to fight to stay alive till her final breath and it’s all because of you. You’re her angel Mark and she is yours. She’ll always be.”

He wanted to be strong in front of your parents, but he couldn’t prevent the tears from falling at your mother’s words. Your mom held him and allowed him to cry for a couple of minutes before she told him to head back over to you. As soon as he left your parent’s house, he met up with Jackson and BamBam to look for the ideal engagement ring. You deserved nothing but the best and your boyfriend was going to make sure that’s what you received. He had Youngjae and Jinyoung stay with you while the three of them went shopping because he hated the idea of you being alone. You were still mobile, but it took you longer to get around and he didn’t want you moving a finger if you didn’t have to.

Bringing Jackson and BamBam was a mistake; not only were they extremely picky, but they couldn’t agree on a ring. If BamBam liked a ring, Jackson would find something wrong with it and vice versa. Either the diamond was too small or too big; the baby was too thick or too wide. There wasn’t a ring that caught their eye. Mark however, couldn’t stop over-choosing to the point where he had selected at least eight different rings. The three men stayed longer than your boyfriend had hoped. He wanted to hurry up and propose to you so that the two of you could get married and spend the rest of your days as a newlywed couple.

After almost an hour, the jeweler pulled Mark to the side and had him explain his love for you, describe your personality, your likes, your personal style and what he’d think you’d want in a wedding ring. He then brought out the prettiest diamond ring Mark has ever seen. It was simple, but yet extremely elegant and eye catching; just like you. It was a gold band with a nicely sized diamond with two smaller diamonds on either side.

Your boyfriend didn’t care what the other two thought; he felt it was perfect and deep down, he knew you’d love it. After purchasing the ring, he picked up a bouquet of your favorite flowers, a couple balloons, a cake and some food on his way home. His mind was filled with worry and he was growing distressed and he didn’t know why. But Jackson and BamBam tried their best to calm him down.

The two younger guys knew you were going to say yes; even if Mark were to propose with a ring pop you’d still be over the moon. When he arrived home, he smiled at the image of you smashed in between Youngjae and Jinyoung while watching something on Netflix. He was also quick to notice Yugyeom and Jaebum sitting on the ground, wanting to be as close to you as possible. You giggled at something you saw and Mark found himself smiling at how adorable you were. He took a look at his friends and he felt embarrassed as the tears built up seeing how much they loved and cared about you.

To say they were devastated when they heard of the news was an understatement. In fact, that was the first time Mark has ever seen Jinyoung and Yugyeom cry. You’ve been in their lives for as long as you’ve been in Mark’s, so it was only natural for them to have grown attached to you and you treated them all like they were your older brothers. The three younger boys took it the hardest; there was a point after your first chemo session that BamBam had to stay away because seeing you so broken and not your usual excited and outgoing self was heartbreaking and too much for him to handle. However, after a talk from Jaebum and Jackson about how they needed to spend as much time with you as possible, he visited you whenever Mark allowed them to come over. When you noticed your boyfriend and your two friends make their way in to the apartment, you attempted to stand up and walk over to greet them, but the right grip on your biceps ultimately prevented you from doing so.

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down fast and the furious, he’s coming y/n. Don’t you dare move a pretty little finger.” You released a frustrated sigh and pouted adorably up at Jinyoung. It was like this the entire day; whenever you wanted to do something, eat, or go to use the bathroom, the guys were quick to do whatever you needed for you. Although you were grateful for their kindness and generosity, there were times that you’ve missed being able to do even the most simplest tasks such as your laundry and doing the dishes on your own. Mark briskly walked over to you and placed a sweet kiss on your lips before cupping your cheek.

“Did the guys take good care of you today?” Your laughter erupted through the room when you heard both Youngjae and Yugyeom scoff at your boyfriend’s question before nodding.

“They didn’t let me do anything at all. Jaebum carried me to the bathroom three times. Jinyoung doesn’t even let me touch the remote.” He giggled at your frustration before politely thanking his friends.

“Can you guys help me bring her to the room?” They all began giving each other knowing looks and grinned widely when they realized what was going to happen. You on the other hand looked at your boyfriend in confusion but decided to let it go. Mark picked you up bridal style but had the guys help him to make sure you didn’t hit the wall or anything along the way. Once you all made it to your room, he placed you down gently on the bed and handed you the flowers. The guys slowly left the room but not before wishing Mark good luck and sending you a few winks. You thanked him before reaching out to run a hand through his hair.

“Everything okay my love?” He nodded slowly before making his way to your side of the bed and you gasped as he got down on one knee. You couldn’t process entirely what was happening, but your heart felt so full. Mark was going to propose to you; when you were first told about your condition, you gave up any idea of getting married because you knew you wouldn’t live long enough to walk down the aisle. Your boyfriend always had tricks up his sleeve and he didn’t even get to say anything yet; you were already crying.

“Baby.”

You looked down at him with so much love and admiration and allowed him to continue. “These last few years have been the best years of my entire life and I owe it all to you. You’ve shown me so much love, compassion, support and kindness throughout our relationship. Only a few months after we started dating, I knew you were the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. You’re my best friend y/n. My soulmate. My safe haven. My happy place. You make me the happiest man alive and there’s nothing I would love more than for you to say yes to being my wife. I love you y/n, more than I can fathom in to words. You mean everything to me. I know you didn’t write it down on the list, but we’ve been together long enough for me to know you like the back of my hand baby. You’ve been talking about marriage even before we started dating. I wanted to be able to grant this wish for you. I have the wedding already planned out, all that’s needed is for you to say yes. Y/n, will you marry me?”

You took no time in connecting your lips together and smiled widely in to the kiss as your way of saying yes. The tears were hot against your cheeks; the beautiful man in front of you was truly an angel sent to you from heaven to take care of you and it was an indescribable feeling.

“Yes, yes, yes! I love you so much Mark—I can’t wait to marry you. The ring is perfect baby. Thank you so much. You’re extraordinary.” He jumped on the bed with you and pulled you on top of his chest while roughly connecting your lips together. Your hands made their way around his neck as his gripped tightly on your waist. The two of you were so invested in kissing one another that Mark failed to remember the six other guys waiting patiently outside the door to hear the good news.

“I’ll be right back my love. I’m gonna go kick the guys out so I can show you just how excited I am to marry you.” He placed a chaste kiss on your forehead before making his way out in to the living room. Your fiancé left the door ajar, so you could hear the entire conversation with him and your friends and it made you blush.

“She said yes! We’re getting married guys! Thank you for everything you’ve done for us so far. I can’t wait to see her walk down the aisle.” The room filled with cheers and laughter and soon Mark was being pulled in to multiple embraces.

“Congratulations bro! Shall we celebrate now? Bring out the cake Yugyeom—“ Mark scratched the back of his neck shyly before speaking up.

“Um, about that—my fiancée and I would like to celebrate alone if that’s alright. You guys can all come back later if you’d want to.” He earned himself a few cheeky smiles and a couple of snide comments, but it was all in good fun. Luckily the guys were extremely understanding and left your apartment to let you and Mark relinquish in your love for one another.

We don't have forever Ooh, baby daylight's wasting You better kiss me Before our time has run out Mmm yeah Nobody sees what we see They're just hopelessly gazing, oh Oh, baby take me, me Before they turn the lights out Before our time has run out Baby love me lights out

After a passionate afternoon of intense and steamy love making, you and Mark ordered some pizza and watched a couple of movies before you both called it a night. Over the course of two weeks, you and Mark began your wedding planning and what was normally an exhausting experience for most brides, went very smoothly for you. You knew it’s because Mark did most of the contacting and the planning in general; he bribed his friends with some beer and fried chicken to help with writing and sending out the invitations. All you had to do was find your dream dress and pick out the kind of cake and food you wanted. Everything else, Mark took care of.

As much as you had dreamt of getting married at a beach, he wanted to have the wedding somewhere that would be easy for you to be pushed around in a wheelchair. Seeing you so dependent and incapable of even walking especially since you were always so independent made him feel bad. He was aware of how much it bothered you having to ask for help when you were always the one helping others. Your fiancé wanted you to be comfortable throughout the entire ceremony and to enjoy every second of it without being in any pain or discomfort. It seemed as if everything went by so fast and before you knew it, the day of your wedding finally came.

You went over to your parent’s house to get ready; you had voiced your opinion about whether or not you should wear a wig because you felt extremely insecure but Mark was very outspoken about how exceptionally beautiful you were and never let you feel negative about yourself. He felt useless every time you cried over how skinny and frail your body was becoming on top of no longer having hair. As much as he reassured you that you’d always be so ethereal in his eyes, it was only natural for you to depreciate yourself.

Mark ordered dozens of sunflowers and they were currently filling up the entire church that the two of you grew up in. He didn’t care how much everything was going to cost; your happiness and any memory made with you was priceless. All of both your’s and Mark’s friends and families sat on either side; waiting for both you and your soon to be husband to enter. When Mark walked in alongside six of his best friends and his younger brother, looking at everyone who was there to celebrate the two of you becoming one made him smile like an idiot. He was dying to see you; throughout the entire time the two of you were getting ready, he kept texting you asking you for photos to which you politely kept shutting him down.

Mark knew he had to be patient and that seeing the bride before the wedding was bad luck, but he was just so excited. Jackson, BamBam and Yugyeom began teasing him every so often while they waited for your arrival. If it was during any other situation, he would’ve been annoyed with them for messing around with him but their jokes helped calm his nerves. Before he knew it, the music grew louder and everyone stood up. As soon as his eyes landed on you, tears built up at the corner of his eyes and he allowed them to fall. He didn’t care if he was crying in front of all your family and friends.

You looked so beautiful; so perfect. You were a sight for sore eyes. Mark didn’t think it was possible for you to look even more beautiful than you already were, but like you always did; you proved him wrong. Your dad was currently pushing you in a wheelchair down the aisle and you smiled softly at everyone who came in to view. Seeing Mark practically bawl his eyes out made you tear up; he was always so sensitive and it was something you admired about him. Your dad pulled Mark in to a hug before handing you over to him.

“Congratulations again, take care of my princess.”

“I will.” Mark released a sigh of awe, he couldn’t believe you were real and that he was actually getting married to the love of his life.

“Can you stand baby?” You nodded slowly and he intertwined your fingers before lifting you up.

“Lean on me if you need to okay? You look extremely beautiful by the way—so so so beautiful. I can’t stop looking at you.” You beamed up at him.

“And you look very handsome.” The two of you were so busy in your own little worlds that you didn’t notice all your guests looking at the two of you with so much adoration. The pastor began the ceremony and you couldn’t help to stifle a laugh watching your fiancé make faces at you during the entire speech. His grip was tight against your hands and you could feel him shaking, but it was cute and so was he.

“Shall we start the vows?” Mark nodded before pulling out a piece of folder paper. He gave you a knowing look when he heard a giggle fall from your lips; Mark was quite the procrastinator and he was never really one to be professional unless he had to. Seeing the crumpled piece of folder paper proved that he was extremely laid back and didn’t care to be proper.

“Over ten years ago, I fell in love with the most amazing, wonderful, kind-hearted, hard-working, generous and breathtakingly beautiful girl to exist. You and I started off as friends, but I knew early on that you’d be someone special to me. There aren’t enough words in the dictionary to describe the love I have for you. You make me the happiest person alive just by existing. No matter how hard life gets, the mere thought of you is what keeps me going. I thank God every single day for allowing me to be the lucky man who gets to love you. Your smile can light up an entire room and your laugh—don’t get me started on your laugh. It’s the cutest sound in the entire world and I could probably listen to you laugh for hours. These last few months have been rough for us, but you never fail to impress me with your strength, your faith and your selflessness. You’re my biggest role model y/n. Everything I do, I do it with you in mind. I want to make you proud, I want to give you the world you deserve and more. God y/n, you deserve everything. I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure that beautiful smile of yours stays on your face. You’re my forever baby, I love you with everything I have and I’m always going to love you.”

Once he was done, you playfully punched his chest causing everyone in the chapel to erupt in laughter. “You asshole, I knew I should’ve worn waterproof mascara. I know I won’t be able to top that—well here it goes. The term soulmates was always a foreign word to me. Out of the millions of people in the world, there is no way two people are destined to be together. But my opinion changed the moment we started dating. If soulmates exist, you are mine and I am yours. The word love isn’t even enough to describe the feelings I have for you. You’re the reason for my existence Mark. You make me so happy. Thank you, for everything. For all the sacrifices you’ve made for me, for all the meals you’ve cooked, all the times you stayed up and watched friends with me because you know how obsessed I am with the show, helping me with every shower, coming with me to every single appointment, for making me laugh and smile during such a hard time. I never felt alone once through this entire experience. You’re out of this world you know that? I could never thank you enough for all the love you’ve given me. You give me strength Mark; you’ve given me so much hope and never fail to remind me how beautiful you think I am and how much I mean to you every single day. Thank you for doing whatever you possibly could in these last few months to be able to make sure I got to do everything I’ve wanted to do while I still could. There was no time for me to even think about my condition, I was too focused on the overflowing love you’ve been giving me. And thank you, for showing me what love is. For giving me the best love I could have ever asked for in this lifetime. I can do anything with you by my side. You are my home Mark Tuan. I love you.”

You giggled as the tears continued to flow down his cheeks and brought your thumb up to his face to wipe them away.

“Do you y/n, take Mark Tuan—“

“I do.”

“And do you Mark Tuan—“

“I do.”

The priest laughed softly as you put your wedding bands on both of your fingers. “With the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

Mark took no time lifting up your chin and smashing his lips against yours. Your heart fluttered with how passionate he was kissing you and when he smiled in to the kiss, you returned the ministration. The rest of the wedding went off without a hitch and it was honestly the best day of your entire life. Mark took the time to feed you against your complaints and your cheeks were in pain from how much you’ve been laughing throughout the entire night. Every time you looked at Mark, your heart rate would increase. No matter how many times he’s told you that he loves you, he never failed to show you through his actions just how much you meant to him.

Once the wedding was over, Mark brought you to a hotel and the two of you spent your first night as a married couple underneath the sheets with your bodies intertwined and lips practically fighting each other for dominance.

Unfortunately, only three weeks after your wedding; God decided it was time for you to return home. As much as nobody wanted to accept it, they all knew it was coming. You were rushed to the hospital after passing out while you and Mark were watching some random movie on Netflix. Although nobody had said anything, your husband knew it was time.

You were surrounded with all your friends and family. The room you were in and even the hallway outside were filled with heartbreaking sobs and mumbled screams; mainly from the love of your life. His grip was tight on your arm as he began to pray that you stayed just a little while more but he knew it was too much for him to ask for.

“M—Mark.” He looked up at you and quickly got up while bringing your face in to his hands.

“Yes baby?” You gave him a sad smile.

“Thank you—for everything. I can die happy knowing I lived such an amazing life—and I have you to thank. I love you more than anything Mark. I can’t wait to meet with you again. I’ll be waiting—“ when you took your last breath, your husband sank to his knees and let out the most gut wrenching cry. Jackson went over to pull him in to his chest, but Jinyoung prevented him from doing so. The older man needed his space. Everyone in the room were already crying, but seeing Mark so broken, so distressed was such a terrible sight to see. He knew it was coming, but he was never prepared to lose you. He found the strength to get up from off the ground and gently sat on the bed with you and pulled your lifeless body in to his embrace. “Come back to me—please. I can’t do this without you.”

The first few weeks after your death were some of the worst moments of Mark’s entire life. Coming to terms with your death and learning to live without you was something he knew he’d never get used to; he never wanted to. It all felt surreal to him. You were there just a few days ago, smiling, laughing, kissing him, holding him and whispering countless love confessions in his ear. He wanted to die. There was no way he’d be able to learn to live without you.

Mark found himself contemplating his life; he couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep and he hated having to interact with people. Although he was extremely thankful for all the outpour of sympathy he’s been receiving, he was tired of hearing it. It was a constant reminder that you were no longer around. Jinyoung forced Mark to move in with him because he knew it would be torture for him to continue living in your shared apartment.

As much as he wanted to continue wallowing in his self pity, he knew your mother must’ve been taking it very hard. It felt like it was just yesterday that he called her to tell her about you being in the ER. Now you were in the clouds, hopefully smiling down on him and watching over him. Your friends were afraid of losing Mark completely; they were afraid of what he was capable of doing in order to be with you again. If he wasn’t to commit suicide, he would probably die of a broken heart, they were sure of it.

Waking up every morning without you there felt like a chore and he no longer wanted to do it. There was one day in particular that he was ready to just give it all up and end his life. He felt like there was nothing worth living for anymore. As he began thinking about what he would do, it was then that he heard a little voice in his head leading him back to your apartment. He knew it was you, it had to be. The voice gave him directions to go in your closet and to take out the blue box hiding in your vanity. It took every bone in his body to even return back to your apartment, let alone touch something of yours. He never moved anything since your death.

The cup that you last drank from sat on the coffee table and it was still full of the caramel macchiato you failed to finish. He didn’t have to courage to dump it out nor could he even look at your side of the bed without screaming. He felt as if he was living his worst nightmare and it was a reoccurring thing every morning he woke up. When he opened the box, he took a seat on the ground and found a letter addressed to him. Why didn’t you tell him about this letter earlier? Or why didn’t you give it to him before you passed? How was he supposed to find it without knowing about it or where it was? He ran his finger over your handwriting and bit his lip to prevent the choked sob that was building up at the back of his throat from coming out. As soon as he opened the card, he was a mess. He couldn’t even get past his name before the tears began to pour.

“To: the love of my life,

My Mark. My sweet Yi-En. If you’re reading this, then I’m no longer here. I hope you know, that I miss you so much. God, I was so afraid to die because I didn’t want to be without you. I know I told you God has a plan for me and I know he has a plan for you too. Please baby, find the strength to move on. Don’t worry about me okay? I’m fine. I’m no longer in pain anymore and just know I’m watching over you and counting down the days until we get to meet each other again. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me Mark. I know it’s going to be hard, but promise me you’ll live your life to the fullest. You own my heart baby, always have and always will. Don’t forget to eat your meals and take your vitamins. We all know how sensitive your body is so you better take good care of yourself since I can no longer do so. If you die Mark Tuan, I will kill you. Please don’t beat yourself up about my death. None of this is your fault okay? It’s just a part of life. We will never understand why it was my time, but I meant what I said in my vows. You’re the reason I stayed around for so long. The doctor predicted that I only had six months left and I lived for almost an entire year. You’re the reason my love. You never failed to care for me and gave me your undying love and attention. You’re an angel Mark. My sweet angel. I give you permission to look for love when you’re ready. I’ll make sure to let you know whether or not I approve of her. Whatever will make you happy again Mark, don’t hesitate to do it. Unless it’s drugs, then I’ll really kill you. You’re forever in my mind, my heart, my thoughts and my prayers. Thank you for being my person. I’ll be waiting for you baby. I love you forever, Love, y/n.”

10 years later

“Daddy, where are we going?”

Mark looked at his beautiful three-year-old daughter in his rear view mirror and hummed contently. “We’re gonna go visit grandma and grandpa Faith.”

The little girl looked at him in confusion. “Didn’t we just see them yesterday?” He laughed at how smart she was and his heart began to warm at the sight of the all too familiar road.

It’s been a while since he’s been here and he can still see himself walking up to the door and hiding his hands in his pockets at the idea of taking you out on your first date. After reading your letter, Mark decided that he would learn to live for you. He moved away almost immediately and found himself traveling amongst the many different places the two of you visited together. He’d call your mom every so often to see how she was doing, but it was still too real to him no matter how many years have gone by.

He took Faith out of her car seat and carried her up to the door. When he rang the doorbell, he heard your mom call out that she was coming and he couldn’t help the smile that rose on his face when she finally opened the door.

“Mark, sweetheart look at you! You still look so handsome. It’s been so long. And who is this?” The little girl waved at your mom and smiled politely.

“I’m Faith. Nice to meet you grandma.” Your mom beamed at the little girl before pulling the two of them in to her embrace.

“Come inside, let me get you something to drink. What brings you here Mark? It’s been a while dear, how have you been?”

He took in your parent’s living room and his heart began to sink. Nothing changed. There were so many photos of you scattered amongst the shelves and on the walls; your wedding photo hung right above the fireplace.

“I um—we visited my parents yesterday and my mom brought you up. I wanted to come see you. It’s—her ten year anniversary in two weeks. I can’t believe it’s been so long.” Your mom handed him a cup of coffee and gave Faith a cup of orange juice.

“I know. I think about her and miss her all the time. Sometimes I daydream about what life would be like if she were still here. Your mom tells me you and Jinyoung started up a charity organization together. That’s amazing sweetheart. Y/n would’ve been so proud of you.”

He smiled softly at the sound of your name. Has it really been ten years since he’s last heard your contagious laugh and felt your soft lips against his? It’s been so long that sometimes he had a hard time believing you once existed and that you weren’t a figment of his imagination.

“Your daughter is so beautiful and such a smart girl. Your mother didn’t mention anything about you getting remarried, but I’m glad to hear that you are moving on—“ to your mom’s surprise, he shook his head in disagreement and motioned over to where Faith was watching television.

“I adopted her from an orphanage in Taiwan almost two years ago. Her parents gave her away right after she was born. I don’t know—but something told me to adopt her. She’s such a wonderful little girl and she helps fill the void. Y/n took a huge part of me with her when she left. I wanted to give up on it all so that I could be with her again—but she made me promise her that I would continue to live life and attempt to look for happiness again. That little girl is my happiness.”

Your mom wiped away a stray tear before reaching out to squeeze his hand. “That’s so kind of you Mark. You’ve always been such a generous and kind-hearted human being. Your parents raised you well. But it’s been ten years. Y/n would’ve wanted you to start looking for a companion—“

“Y/n was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Where do I go when I’ve already had the best? Y/n is always going to own this silly heart of mine. I actually renamed her Faith in memory of y/n. We talked about our future children’s names on multiple occasions and Faith was at the top of her list. I was also inspired in how much faith and trust she had in God during her journey. I’m going to be okay mom. Don’t worry about me. My main focus now is that adorable little toddler, my job and the organization. I had my chance at love and was the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Your mom and your husband talked for a few hours and most of that time was spent reminiscing on your memory and how life was so much better when you were still around. When Faith fell asleep on the couch, Mark decided it was time for the two of them to make their leave. He hugged your mom and promised to come visit her whenever he was in town. After he said his goodbyes, he brought the little girl in to the car and buckled her up slowly in attempts to not wake her. However, her soft voice caught his attention as he began to pull out of the driveway.

“Where we going now daddy?”

Mark knew there was one more place he wanted to visit before making the drive back to his parent’s house.

“We’re gonna go see mommy.”

I love you like XO You love me like XO You kill me boy XO You love me like XO All that I see Give me everything Baby love me lights out Baby love me lights out You can turn my lights outIn the darkest night hour (in the darkest night hour) I'll search through the crowd (I'll search through the crowd) Your face is all that I see I'll give you everything Baby love me lights out Baby love me lights out You can turn my lights out

[softjeon]

Here there be beasts | Final

• Pairing: Jimin x Wolf!Namjoon • Genre: Angst, Fluff | Rating: Mature | RedRidingHood!AU / Fairytale!AU → Gifset Trailer • Words: 10k | AO3 • Disclaimer: nsfw-content, smut, mentioning of blood, abuse, violence, weapons, dark themes, anxiety

written with @cassiavioletblue​

↳  Fear was a strange feeling. People feared the unknown, the dark and witchcraft. The shadows that were lurking through the forest at night. The same fear that made the folks in the village keep their distance from the forest at night; that locked their doors on nights when there was a full moon, or no moon at all.

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The sun was low in the sky and it was noticeably cooler than it had been earlier in the day as he came to a halt. He let his gaze wander over the houses that were made out of grey stone, with slate roofs and dull now in the evening sun but glistened whenever it was wet from the rain. It was plain. The church had a spire and was stone built like the village houses. Small square windows, hanging baskets filled with wilted flowers that probably no one had cared for in their fear of staying outside for too long. It was eerily quiet, the fear noticeably in every corner. 

They only came out when it was day, some were so terrified that they were afraid to speak. They told stories about how the old man had been ripped into pieces that not even his body could be found anymore. Just a few droplets of blood on the grass. The beast had swallowed him whole. The wolf. He could hear their whispers about him and how it would eat up anybody who was walking around the village at night.

Jimin chuckled and yet, it was a fearful one. He had seen the dark eyes, the change that was clear as the night as when he had looked into the wolf’s eyes on a full moon. He had been scared of him for a moment. Jimin could feel a headache settling in, the confusion making him question everything and it felt like his own mother and grandmother knew more that they wanted to lead on. And they never told him, played games and gave him riddles but Jimin couldn’t find the answers. He walked up to alley and stared into the distance, trying to ease his mind. On summer days, Jimin loved to go up to the top of the small hill and sat against the middle tree overlooking the village. It was usually in the morning, when it was still quiet, hardly any sound was audible. He loved that place – but he wouldn’t miss it. In the village you live close to your neighbors and everybody knew everybody’s business and their families and predilections. And he wanted to leave it all behind.

Jimin unlocked the door to his house and walked in. With a sigh, he plopped down regretting the quick movement right away when he got reminded what he had been doing all night with Namjoon. He hissed, though with a smile and couldn’t help but laugh at himself. There was one answer he knew he had: he would be safe with Namjoon. There was no wolves. No beasts. With him he would be protected. And he was sure he could get away from the nightmare. Being so lost in his mind, Jimin didn’t notice when the door opened behind him.

“What happened?” The sudden strong grip around his waist, made Jimin flinch and jump around, meeting Honsung’s questioning gaze. “I…I slipped on some wet stone this morning,” He rubbed his bottom to underline his statement, “It’s going to be a bit bruised up.” Jimin was proud of his quick lie, giving Honsung a smile to show that he was fine. He patted his chest a little awkwardly, trying to get a little space between them.

“You were out again, weren’t you? During the night, while the beast fed on that man. Was that it? Did you want to watch? What is it that makes you get yourself in danger like that? Are you bored? Do you need a little more excitement in your life? Cause if it’s that I can give you that!” He pulled Jimin roughly towards him. “There will be no more going out, do you understand me? Not at night, not during the day, none at all! The attacks get more frequent, but you don’t even know half of them because instead of participating in the village life and talking to other people you always hang out in the woods. Don’t you want to have friends, Jimin? Talk to people other than yourself? People are talking you know. You’ve always been a little weird, but it’s gotten out of hand lately. And you can’t only think about yourself. This reflects back on me as well. I’m trying to get far, to make it to someone higher up the food chain - and you’ll benefit from that too. But the way things are going right now no one will lay their trust into someone who’s affiliated with a suicidal psycho.”

Jimin gawked, blinking his eyes as he tried to follow what Honsung was telling him. “N-none? But…Honsung, I can’t…I have to help my grandma, you know that.” He shook his head, not wanting to believe that there had been more attacks while he had been gone. How could he have overseen them? Did he really not see them?

“What are you talking about?” Jimin furrowed his brows, confused and startled as his heart picked up its pace. He was getting nervous the more Honsung was talking, but he couldn’t escape his grip. “Ps-psycho? I’m not…” Jimin pushed against his chest, feeling the anger sitting firing hot under his chest, “If you don’t want to be associated with me then go! You can pick anyone. I’m not holding you back! The neighbors daughter wants you anyways. Take her then! Because you know I can’t keep inside if my grandma is out there and needs my help. You know she is almost blind; she can’t see clearly anymore. And the people in the village should know, too that I am taking care of her. Like a good grandson should do.” He was almost hissing the words, angry that the people thought of him as the weird kid again. 

“She will do fine a few days without you! I can bring her some food and whatever else she needs in advance and you stay here. And stop - stop pushing me!” He pushed Jimin back so that the younger fell backwards onto the bed. “Do you really think I could just ignore our engagement? I promised to take care of you because you had no one else but you’re making it really hard right now. This isn’t solely about what I want and who I want to be with, a marriage is as much about duty as it is about pleasure and I can’t just change my mind about my oath just because you decide to be difficult. It just means that I need to be a better husband and help shape you until you’re a character that fits into the community of city.”

Jimin stared in absolute disbelief at the man in front of him, that he thought once knew but showed more and more sides of him that only scared him. There were tears burning behind his eyes, threatening to come forward but Jimin took a deep breath. He had been pushed harshly against the rough edge of his bed, where he barely caught himself and now as he gazed up at Honsung he felt completely loss for words.

“Shape me?” He almost scoffed but tried to push it down to not anger him too much. Jimin didn’t want to know what else he would be capable of. “Let me go to her one last time, please. Just once,” He whispered, avoiding Honsung’s gaze to show him his defeat. “If you love me, then please…”

“Jimin, I have asked you so many times already to not go into the woods. I begged you to take care, I ordered you to not leave the village at night, I tried to talk sense into you over and over again. I don’t trust you anymore. If I let you go who knows if you come back home or maybe you spend a few more nights out there just because you want to. No, you’ll stay here where people can watch you and make sure that you won’t end up dead. I’ll take care of it, like I said I will, because I stick to my word.”

Jimin was shaking as he nodded his head slowly, biting his lip in deep thought as he stared into nothingness. His heart was beating so loudly and so fast that he was scared he was going into a cardiac arrest. Jimin looked up to see where the sun was at the horizon, knowing that in the evening he had promised for Namjoon to come back, to meet him at his grandma’s and to run away, to never come back to the village again. Right now, it seemed almost like an impossible task. Jimin was so far gone in his mind, that he startled heavily when a hand cupped his cheek making him turn towards Honsung. “Why do you love me?” The words slipped from his lips easily but shaky. But he wanted to know so much more: why do you hate me so much? Why do you chose me? Why me? Why does it have to be me?

“Because you’re special, Jimin. Despite all the defiance and the disobedience, I know that deep down you can be good. You want to be good, don’t you? You could make it so much easier for all of us if you just started to trust me like you should.” He leaned in to kiss Jimin’s forehead. “I’ll take care of you, Jimin. You don’t have to fight against anything and everyone any longer. I know what’s best for you. And your grandma will be so happy when she sees that your safe and surrounded by friends and cared for, wouldn’t she? Don’t you want that for yourself too?”

“Yeah,” His voice sounded tired and Jimin felt exhausted, “I just need to see her. Just a few days, promise me. I need to be with her. I don’t know for how much longer she can be around.” Jimin bit his lip, when he saw the deep furrowed his brows and the hesitance in Honsung’s body language. “I’m sorry,” Jimin whispered, meaning so much more than those simple words. I’m sorry that I will make this harder on you, I’m sorry that I’m going to make you angry and I’m sorry that I’m not what you want me to be. And I am sorry that I will run away. 

…

Namjoon had no idea that Jimin couldn’t keep his promise. He had started to roam through his pantry, made sure that there would be enough food and necessities for two people to live comfortably for a while. He would also soon make a trip to the next village even though it would be a wolf run away to get Jimin his own things; another plate, a glass - maybe one of those colorful ones that he had seen last time he had visited the market there it had been so pretty and would hopefully make Jimin happy. He wasn’t trying to sugarcoat things, he knew it wouldn’t been easy, Jimin would have to learn what it meant to live without the comfort he’s had in the village and even though there would be no more people judging him there would be other things to make his life harder. Not to speak of Namjoon who would have to be very, very careful so that Jimin would never find out who exactly he was. He would tell Jimin that he was sleepwalking and that he should in no way be disturbed so that Jimin wouldn’t look for him in case he woke up and found his side of the bed empty. Or maybe he could talk Jimin into letting him give him a mild herbal tea to help him sleep during full moon nights so that he wouldn’t wake up at all.

Whatever way he chose he knew it would be great living with Jimin, he felt it - and he had never felt so scared but so happy at the same time.

…

Jimin was glancing over to the window every five minutes, nervously. He could see a few of Honsung’s friends lingering around his home and he was sure that he had told him to see if Jimin would go out and if he did, to follow him closely. What they didn’t know was, that Jimin knew his way around by now. So, he simply slipped through his back window, leaving everything behind in a heartbeat.

This morning he had thought about packing a few things, but right now it didn’t matter. The sun was about to set, and he was sure Namjoon had been already waiting. Jimin hadn’t even put on his coat. He didn’t need it anymore.

The moment Jimin pulled himself over the wall and jumped down on the other side where he knew it was safe, he felt like he could breathe again – like weight that got lifted off his shoulders. This way he was sure that he was on his right way, because his heart told him so. With a smile on his lips, Jimin’s steps quickened until he was fully running. He could hear the church bells ringing in the background, telling the people to go inside before it would be dark, but he was running even faster.

When his grandma’s house came in view at the end of the path, Jimin was panting, slowing down until he was just walking. The forest was eerily quiet around him, but Jimin didn’t pay it any attention. He was so filled with happiness, with feeling absolutely free in this moment that he didn’t notice it.

Nothing.

Not a sound.

“Grandma?” Jimin’s voice echoed through the woods as he came to a halt in front of her door, fist lifted in an attempt to knock when he noticed the door being ajar. It wasn’t unusual for her to do so, so Jimin simply pushed it open and called for her again. “Are you in the back, Grandma?” Jimin called out again but there was no answer. Instead something else suddenly swallowed him whole, making him halt and froze in his movements completely. His throat constricted at the onslaught of smell that crashed over him. Something was awfully wrong. Something didn’t fit in the picture. Jimin turned around with wide eyes, slowly opening the door to his grandmother’s bedroom, but there was no one. Her blanket was thrown carelessly over as if she had been asleep, but the smell wasn’t as strong here. Jimin looked over his shoulder and gulped as he reached out for the kitchen door with shaking hands. “Please, grandma. This is not funny,” He mumbled more to himself to calm his rapid beating heart as he pushed the door open. 

The door stopped after only a few inches because something was blocking it. Or someone. In horror Jimin pushed against it until it finally gave way and he was able to open the door enough to squeeze inside. He wished he hadn’t done that. Halfway behind the door and on the kitchen floor was his grandmother. There was something red all over here and in his shock he first thought it must be tomato juice, that she had slipped with a plate in hand and had spilled the juice all over her.

He kneeled down with shaking fingers, trying to help her up because she had just fallen, and it would be fine if he helped her up. But even his mind in denial couldn’t ignore the deep gashes in her chest and at her throat. Jimin whimpered, “G…grandma? Grandma please, please wake up!” He took her arm to shake her, to wake her up again but the moment he touched her he knew that she was gone. Her arm felt cold and stiff and he flinched back immediately. She was dead.

His grandmother was dead.

Jimin felt like his whole world was spinning. He had seen her alive only days ago, his warm smile and her beautiful eyes and… Jimin coughed, trying to get away from the bloody corpse as he heaved but nothing came out. He was just sobbing, pulling his knees in as he shook from the fear and the shock alike.

She was dead. She was dead. She was dead.

The beast.

Jimin’s eyes widened as he lifted his shaking hands, seeing the blood that was all over. He snapped up when his eyes flickered around the room, trying to find any clues. Something that could tell him what had happened. This hadn’t been an accident. This just couldn’t be. Jimin let out a painful cry, when Honsungs voice pierced through the fog in his mind as he was literally trying to shake the shock out of him, a harsh grip on both of his arms. “Jimin! What happened! Are you okay? Did the wolf hurt you?” He turned his face to see if he was unharmed but Jimin was still a little too dazed to react properly, staring at him as if he couldn’t believe that he was here. “Jimin, talk to me. What happened?” He tried to hug the other but Jimin was lifeless and like a rag doll in his arms. He blinked up his eyes, trying to bring himself back but… his grandma was dead. She was dead. There was blood. So much blood. Jimin could feel himself getting pulled up and he whined helplessly. “Grandma, no, no, she needs me…,” Jimin pushed Honsung away from him, crawling over to where the lifeless body was lying as he reached out. She couldn’t be dead. She just couldn’t.

This was a nightmare.

Blood smeared all over his hands as his eyes flickered over the wounds. A caught of scream came from him, but it didn’t feel like his own when Honsung pulled him away again. “N..no…no,” Jimin barely was able to keep himself up on his feet, teary-eyes making his view blurry. His mind didn’t caught up, everything was moving too fast. 

“We need to go Jimin.” If he could choose he preferred the lifeless version of Jimin right now because this version of him, the one that was screaming and trying to push him away to get back to his dead grandmother was hard to handle. “We don’t know how close the wolf is, we need to go before we find out. You don’t want to end like your grandmother, do you? We can send someone to bury her later right now I need you to come with me. We need to get back to the village, behind the walls. We will be safe there. As I tried to tell you so many times already the woods aren’t safe. And now you have proof of what I always told you. Not even the house could help your grandmother against the wolf. He killed her anyway.”

It was like a switch that turned on, when Honsung suddenly started talking about the wolf being the one attacking his grandma when his eyes finally locked with his. “No,” It was only a whisper at first. “It’s not…the wolf,” Jimin cried out as loud as he could as he pushed against Honsung who had pulled him out of the kitchen, “It’s not him! I know it’s not him. Look at the wounds! It’s not an animal…it’s…it’s something else.” Jimin was shaking, mind racing with all the possibilities. Only one thing he knew was true: it wasn’t the wolf. His heart told him so. His gut feeling. Everything in him told him that it wasn’t the animal but something else. Something much crueler that didn’t care about wrong or right and it was making Jimin shiver in fear. His eyes were searching through the room, as he tried to get away from Honsung, holding onto the doorframe like a child that didn’t want to leave it’s room. Blood smeared all over the wallpaper, but Jimin didn’t care as he elbowed Honsung hard to make him let go. “Believe me, please. I’m not crazy! I know it’s not the wolf, trust me! It’s not making any sense”

“You’re talking nonsense, Jimin. Of course, it was the wolf. It couldn’t be anything else.” Honsung’s voice had become sharper and cold as ice but Jimin was too caught up in his pain to notice or else he might have reacted differently. “Stop holding onto the doorframe! She’s dead! You can’t help her! She won’t come alive again just because you’re cowering next to her! Let go goddammit!” He tried to pry Jimin’s hands off the frame, but the younger was making it difficult - until he took Jimin’s wrist and pulled so hard hat the younger cried out in pain and finally let go.

The pain in his wrist was burning so achingly and Jimin had no choice but to stumble along. “No, let go, please. I don’t care then… go without me. I don’t…,” Jimin gulped heavily, sobbing painfully as his knees gave in and he simply let himself fall, “…care anymore!”

Honsung still had a hard grip on Jimin, holding onto him and the sweater that he wore. So, when Jimin slid to the floor his he effectively pulled himself from Honsung’s grip - except for his sweater, that ripped from being stretched between Honsung and Jimin’s body. At first the other did nothing, just stared at him how he was sitting on the floor, a miserable heap. His eyes wandered upwards to where the sweater had ripped and to the formerly flawless skin beneath it. This time however there was nothing flawless about it. There were marks and spots peppered along his collarbone, disappearing under the rest of the sweater that hung on Jimin. Honsung’s eyes hardened as he kneeled down in front of Jimin, ripping his sweater in half to see more of his skin. His hands were starting to shake from anger as he realized that they were exactly what he thought they were: Lovebites. Marks that had been kissed into Jimin’s skin. It hit him completely unprepared but there was no other explanation for it: Jimin had a secret lover.

Jimin sat frozen on the spot, eyes wide as he stared at him. His lips were trembling, but his eyes were dry as he saw Honsung’s gaze darken. The once blue eyes suddenly seemed like darkness had swallowed them whole, staring him down with so much hatred and disgust that Jimin didn’t even want to look down. Jimin opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. 

He didn’t even ask Jimin or waited for him to explain he just hit him, square in the face, the way he should have done it before. He had waited for Jimin to open up to him, to see what he was doing , that he was someone Jimin should be proud to be with, strong and powerful and able to provide for them, for others, for the whole city if he needed to! He was ambitious, passionate, everything someone like Jimin should wish for! And yet Jimin disobeyed him. Over and over and over again. And he had let it slide because he thought sooner or later the other would come around and see what he was missing. Instead he had gone and found himself a lover, letting himself get marked like the filthy little whore he was. When Jimin looked up at him again his lip was split but it didn’t give him any satisfaction. Jimin had made a fool of himself and of Honsung and now his stubborn, defiant, dirty fiancé would have to suffer the consequences. He didn’t let Jimin get up, instead he pushed him down, pressing his shoulders onto the wooden floor.

The slap was still ringing in his ear, stars dancing in front of his eyes as he tried to get a grip of himself fast. Jimin’s conscious was screaming at him to get out of here fast, that something was awfully, awfully wrong when the pain hit him once again. “Let me go! No, you’re hurting me!” Jimin cried out as loud as he could, trying to use his last bit of strength with the adrenaline fueling him to get Honsung off him but the other was just ten times stronger than him. So, Jimin screamed as loud as he could, hoping that it would reach somewhere. That maybe Namjoon was near. Maybe the wolf, that was strolling around, hearing the pain in his voice. Tears were rushing down his cheeks as he struggled against the painful weight.  

“Scream as much as you want. No one will hear you. No one is stupid enough to go outside the walls. No one but you.” He pushed down harder until Jimin was breathless from it and he didn’t have to yell against Jimin’s screams to make the other hear him. “I’m glad it hurts. Because you hurt me too, Jimin. You thought I’d never find out, hm? What would you have said to me in our wedding night? Would you have lied, telling me you’re still a virgin? Who is it, Jimin? A woman? A man? Both? Is that how you pass your time when you sneak away from me?” He leaned down and kissed him, hard and brutal, not quite a kiss but rather a sign of dominance. “Why, Jimin? I would have given you everything you needed. You could have lived so comfortably by my side. You could have had a real life! Status and wealth and power. And you gave all that up for sex? I could have given you that too. But you always told me I needed to wait, that you weren’t ready before being married. Another lie, hm? How long did you share my bed, pretending I couldn’t have you because you weren’t ready while someone else had you on your back for them? Tell me!”

Jimin was coughing painfully as he gasped for air each time Honsung pushed onto him, forcing his lips onto him and taking away his breath in a painful way. Making Honsung even more angry probably wasn’t the best choice, but Jimin didn’t want to give in. Never wanted to give in to him. “Y-yes, I did,” Jimin breathed out as he met Honsung’s gaze, “And he loves me, like I love him. You only give me pain and you don’t know what love even is. You’re pathetic! I don’t need status, I don’t need anything, not from you!” Jimin spit Honsung right in the face, using the seconds he was caught off guard to turn and to get back onto his feet as fast as he could. 

Jimin’s freedom lasted only a few seconds before Honsung pulled him back down without caring how much he would hurt the other. “You filthy little thing!” He chuckled but there was no joy in it just disdain. “I think you should stay here for a little while. And as you seem to like being on your back for someone I’m sure you don’t mind this.” He leaned over him, gripping his throat so that Jimin couldn’t spit at him again. It didn’t matter that one of Jimin’s hands was free like this because he was holding him down mercilessly and if Jimin wanted to keep breathing then he would have to lay still and obedient. “Such a pity. It will break your lovers heart to hear what has happened in the woods. You visited your grandmother despite my warning and in complete ignorance of the dangerous times we live in. Sadly, for you I was right as I always am and the wolf came and killed your grandmother. Maybe she tried to defend you. Wouldn’t that be a heartbreaking addition to the story? That she tried to protect you from the wolf only to get ripped to pieces in front of your eyes. And then you couldn't handle the guilt, or the wolf got you as well. That little detail is up to you.”

There was a throbbing in his head and something wet was dripping down his forehead as he realized he must have hit his head when Honsung had pulled him down again. He was dizzy, the air getting cut off from him as he tried to get Honsung to let go off him, when he suddenly stopped, and his words got through to him. It was like his heart had stopped beating.

There were no sounds anymore.

Just his breathing was audible, as he looked up into Honsung’s eyes and saw nothing but hatred.

It was as if Honsung knew and a dirty smirk appeared on his lips, one that made Jimin retch as he realized the truth. “Y-you?” Tears welled up in his eyes as he felt like he was free falling. Nothing made sense anymore. Was he lying next to a beast the whole time?

“Yes, my love. Me. Does it hurt to know that your grandma would still be alive if you had just listened to me? I didn't know what a filthy whore you were back then I thought you were really visiting your grandma. I should have known that you weren’t that selfless. You were busy spreading your legs for someone while pretending to be the perfect grandson. Be thankful she didn’t have to find out what you were doing. She would have been so disappointed. I spared her that. I thought I was just eliminating the reason for you to always run in the woods despite my orders. But now I see that it was your rightful punishment to see her dead. And it makes more sense like this when they find your body. You didn’t think you could betray me like that and then just walk away, did you? That’s not how it works, love. Not for you.”

Jimin’s world was falling apart right in front of him. Memories of his mother crying, begging Honsung’s father to not kill the wolf were flashing before his eyes. The same darkness in his father’s that he now found in him. They made the people fear to make them kneel and beg for them to release them from the dangers that were the wolf, while the beast was in the village all along. “No, no…” Jimin screamed out, sobbing as he saw his mother being torn away from him. She had known. “You’re a monster!” He croaked out, kicking at Honsung as hard as he could, but the more he moved the less he could breathe. 

“Didn’t you know that people always need a monster? If you don’t give them one they make their own. But you have no idea how to lead, all you know is making trouble. That’ll be over now. It could have been so nice for you, Jimin but you didn’t want it easy. So, this is your fault.” He placed a mocking little kiss on Jimin’s forehead like he had done when he had said good night to Jimin before turning off the lights at home.

Then he tightened his grip to choke Jimin until the end.

Jimin’s eyes were wide and fearful as he stared up in shock, when Honsung went absolutely feral. There was no emotions. Just darkness that Jimin could find as he shook him as if Jimin wasn’t dying fast enough. He was fighting for the last bits of air, trying to reach out and pull his arms away from him. He couldn’t let the darkness win, so Jimin tried to stay calm, tried to do anything to win more time but he had to realize that he had lost this fight, when the shadows were pulling him under. 

...

Namjoon had waited a little longer - and then a little longer after that. When he had finally admitted to himself that Jimin wouldn’t come he didn’t know how to feel. Shouldn’t he be relieved that he wouldn’t have to figure out how to hide his nature from someone who lived with him? Should he feel like he should have known Jimin would let him down because that’s what the village people did? It didn’t feel right, nothing did. There was just an emptiness inside of him, a vast space that Jimin had filled and that he had no idea how to fill again now that the other was gone. He felt restless and torn and half did he play with the thought of going into the city himself to ask Jimin, look after him, make sure that he was okay, and that no sickness or accident had kept him from coming. But he had sworn his mother that he would never set a foot into that village and so he stayed true to his vow and kept away from the walls. He couldn’t just go home though. He needed to get rid of this restless energy, needed to clear his head of all the thoughts and pictures that tried to overwhelm him, of him and Jimin and all the things that could have been. He needed a run. And maybe, while he was at it he could also visit Jimin’s grandma? Maybe he was there to tell her that he wouldn’t live in the village any longer and they had started to argue and forgot the time - or maybe she had an idea where he was. 

It felt like a relief to change forms, despite the pain and the sickening sound of bones cracking while he turned. Things were easier as a wolf. Emotions were different. And yet his heart still felt empty at the knowledge that Jimin might not come. He gave up all pretense and headed straight to grandma’s home, hoping that he could lend some clothes there or else the chat would be a little awkward but with her eyesight it didn’t really matter that much. He saw the open door the same moment the smell of blood hit him. He growled before he even realized what might have happened but the terror that gripped his heart told him that something was wrong. The blood that had been spilled smelled human. Like the old woman - and like Jimin. He jumped through the door without care or finesse, just recklessly storming in as a dangerous ball of fur and claws and teeth. It only took him a heartbeat to lay his eyes on the man who was sitting on Jimin’s lifeless body, his hands still wrapped around his throat as if Jimin’s didn’t look dead enough for him. He threw his whole body against him, knocking him clean off before sinking his teeth into the man’s flesh. The other screamed but Namjoon didn’t care, he just bit deeper and growled harder until the man was no longer a threat. 

Jimin didn’t scream as he got thrown over and air went through his lungs again, but something else hit him as he carelessly got pushed against something hard. He felt like a doll; lifeless and unable to move. But he didn’t even care about the pain anymore. There was air and Jimin was gasping for it like a fish that was out of the water. Blood was dripping down his forehead and cut lip as he tried to blink his eyes and see the scene in front of him. It was a blurry image, but the growling sound was familiar and although it was the most horrifying sound he ever heard coming from the wolf, Jimin felt nothing but calm. A small smile pulled at his lips, while Jimin tried to whisper a ‘thank you’ as the darkness made his eyelids heavier and the imagery vanished but Jimin opened his eyes again when a growl made him startle, only to be drowning again. Maybe it was for the better that he couldn’t see anymore, the sounds too vividly as he shook with it until he fell completely unconscious and the sound of skin ripping, and the smell of blood didn’t faze him no more. 

Never in his life did Namjoon change forms so quickly. He was dizzy from it, falling onto his knees but he knew if he wanted to help Jimin he needed hands and a human mouth. He was cold and trembling when he thought about reviving Jimin, wondering if he had been dead for too long - and then he saw that the other was still breathing. And he cried. He couldn't help it but seeing Jimin lying so lifelessly on the floor with the smell of blood all around him and his eyes firmly closed he had realized that he couldn’t just go on if Jimin was gone. He couldn’t.

“Jimin? Minnie?” He took the lifeless body in his arms, gently rocking him back and forth while he hugged him close until Jimin felt warmer and his heartbeat wasn’t so weak anymore. The smell of blood was still there, sickeningly sweet and overwhelming and so he gently placed the boy down to look for the source, to see if he could help. But it was too late for Grandma and so the only thing left to do for him was to gently close her eyes and say his goodbyes with a heavy heart.

Jimin was too weak to open his eyes, but he felt something lift him off the ground and for an awful moment he thought he was descending. Maybe to heaven? Or someone else that he didn’t know, but subconsciously his hand reached for something to steady himself, too scared to fall but too weak to really hold on as he felt a familiar heartbeat under his palm. Breathing in sharply, Jimin was curling in, trying to get away from the pain that was still aching all over his body. There was so much pain, so much hurting and Jimin couldn’t bare it. Namjoon didn’t know that Jimin’s consciousness was swimming in and out of focus. He just picked him up, as careful as he could and walked back with him to his home, all the while cradling him against his chest like a fragile, priceless possession. He had no idea what had happened and if Jimin knew that his grandmother was dead. The thought of burying her in the wild little garden behind the house had tears filling his eyes anew and he almost stumbled from his sight being so blurry. There was no time for grief now, not until Jimin was safe in his bed and would open his eyes again.

… 

Jimin hissed in pain when something soothed over his skin. A barely there touch but it hurt, and he turned away from it, whining and regretting it the moment the pain was piercing his throat with every sound. Every ache, every bruise that made him stiffen up, only brought the nightmare back and Jimin was shaking from the fear of where he'd find himself. It was only then his fingers were gripping sheets under him and a different smell, but blood reached him. His heart was beating into overdrive as he carefully opened his eyes in fear. 

Namjoon took the dampened cloth away from Jimin’s face when the younger started to stir and gave him space to come to. Jimin’s eyelids fluttered and he moved restlessly before he finally dared to open his eyes. “Hi.” Namjoon greeted him with a smile, his voice giving away how relieved he was to finally see Jimin awake. The walk had been a long one and Jimin hadn’t moved one bit, not even when Namjoon had gotten him into bed and started to clean the wound at his hairline that had colored strands of his hair red with blood. Only when he brought the cloth to Jimin’s lip to dab at the cut and wipe away the blood had the younger started to stir. There was freshly brewed herbal tea waiting for him that Namjoon wanted him to sip as soon as possible so that his throat wouldn’t be so sore. But first of all, it would be necessary to calm Jimin. He would ask what had happened later even though it burned on his tongue. Instead he tried to keep their conversation light and soothing. “How are you feeling? Are you warm enough? Do you want another blanket?” 

Jimin’s heart recognized him way before his mind did, beating fast and uncontrollably, yearning for his lover’s closeness. He had no idea how he made it here or what had happened after he blacked out but Jimin didn’t want to remember. With a croaky whine, Jimin reached for Namjoon and pulled at his shirt to make him come closer. He needed him by his side. But he couldn’t say more; his throat constricting with every time he tried to say something. When Namjoon sat in bed with him, Jimin let himself get pulled closer against his chest, searching for the warmth and heat that his body always provided. His teeth were clattering, limbs shaking as he tried to shake off the cold and the shock. “Sh-she’s gone,” He sobbed, hiding his face in his chest, desperately searching for something to hold on to or else he might fall apart. “I wanted to ...tell her about you...u-us, b-but Honsung...he,” Jimin coughed, trying to get rid of the aching in his throat. Namjoon had reached for the tea on instant, tilting Jimin’s chin up to make the younger drink from it who was too shaken. He gulped down the warm drink, feeling it’s soothing effects right away when he spoke again. “It was h-him, the beast...he did...he m-murdered,” His arm reached around Namjoon on instinct as if the other could leave him right now. 

It definitely answered the question if Jimin knew about his grandmother's death to see him like this. Namjoon tried his best to calm Jimin down, to soothe him enough that he wasn’t shaking so hard or gasping so helplessly for breath. He wouldn’t have mind letting the other cry at his shoulder if he felt it might help but Jimin shook so much and sobbed so desperately that he was worried for him. So, he gave him the tea, sip by sip trying to ground him and calm him (there was lavender in the tea, hop and chamomile). He couldn't really make out what Jimin was saying, he talked about Honsung and the beast, but he wasn’t sure what was really about what had happened and what Jimin had seen and what were his fears and the shock. He was in no state to be questioned so Namjoon just continued to hold him, caressing his back, brushing his fingers through his hair while whispering promises into his skin. “You’re safe now. No one can hurt you. Honsung will never lay a finger on you again. You’re okay. You made it through. You will heal, Jimin, I promise.” He could understand the other’s pain so well which made it a little harder to tell him he would be okay again because he knew that right now Jimin must feel like someone had torn out his heart and that this pain would never end. Grief only healed over time and sadly he couldn’t make the time pass faster so all he could do was be there for him while Jimin worked out his pain.

The younger had fallen asleep and against Namjoon’s side in exhaustion, hands buried deep in his shirt so he couldn’t move away. He needed Namjoon’s presence to ground him, even in his sleep. It felt like hours until he could open his eyes again, his body wrapped in a blanket that Namjoon had draped over them. Namjoon’s fingers were soothing through his hair and down his cheek, when he blinked up at him.

“What happened? How did you find me?” Jimin’s voice sounded tired, but a lot better than before. He had a terrible headache and Jimin felt for the cause of it, hissing when he came in contact with a bruise. 

"Careful, baby." He gently took Jimin's hand away from the wound. He didn't have any bandages left so he had only been able to clean the wound and touching it could contaminate it again. As horrible as it was he would need to take Grandma's first aid kit when they buried her because although he didn't like the thought of stealing from the dead he didn't know where else to get Jimin the things he needed right now. He was glad that the younger had managed to get some sleep and that he seemed calmer now even though his eyes were still red rimmed, and his voice sounded rough and off from having been choked and all the tears that were still stuck in his throat.

"I...I just thought you might be there. You didn't come to meet me as you said so I thought you might have visited your grandma to… to say goodbye." His voice was heavy with empathy as he had finished.

“I wanted to tell her...about...about you,” Jimin’s eyes filled with tears, “That I would run from the village but then...Honsung. He was there out of a sudden and I didn’t understand it.” His eyes were searching the room, while he tried to collect his thoughts, “He saw the love bites and he went crazy. I’ve never seen him that mad before and then…” Jimin gulped, “He is the beast, Namjoon. He killed them all and blamed the wolf. It was never the wolf.” He choked on a dry sob, when his eyes suddenly widened and Jimin pushed himself up, throwing the blanket over. “Oh god, he’s dead. The wolf...he came. Did you see him?” Jimin shaking when he spoke, trying to get up from the bed, “I need to find him. They will try and kill him and it’s all my fault. He protected me. Help me please, Namjoon. Help me find him!”

Those were news to him, ones that he had a hard time wrapping his head around. Of course, he had figured out that it hadn’t been him who killed those people as he was extra careful around a full moon and people were hurt no matter what phase the moon was in. but that it had been the villagers themselves, one of their own who played monster? And Jimin’s fiancé of all people? The only good thing that came of all this mess was that there no one would be hurt because of the ‘wolf’ ever again. Because the real beast had died. 

“Calm down, Minnie, please, sit back down, he’s fine, the wolf is fine, please don’t just run out there, I saw him, he’s... he’s perfectly okay!”

He had no idea how Jimin still managed to find so much energy inside of him when all he himself could feel was grief and worry and exhaustion. But apparently the wolf’s wellbeing weighted so heavy on the younger’s mind that he couldn’t let go of it that easily.

Jimin swayed a little when he got onto his feet, panting as he tried to hold onto the next best thing. “I need to tell him to hide, they will find them and…,” Jimin could barely bare the aching in his heart when he thought of his grandmother again and he wiped over his cheek, regretting it right away as he forgot about the bruise. “Please, Namjoon. They will see the biting marks and will think it’s the wolf for real now. He can’t know what they will do, but I know. They are monsters! They will kill him, thinking he had murdered twice.” He reached for Namjoon, pulling at his shirt, “I need to see him, please. Show me where he is!” It was the only right thing to do right now, his heart beating into overdrive, but his gut feeling told him to see the wolf. “We need to protect him!”

Jimin was trembling, his eyes wide and fearful and Namjoon started to worry that he might faint again if he couldn’t get the other to calm down again. His body had gone through enough today he didn’t need to tire himself out with his panic now especially because the wolf was fine, he was fine, but he couldn’t tell him, he had to watch Jimin try to get out of his grip and get to the door, ready to defend a creature he didn’t even know, jeopardizing his own health on the way.

“Jimin, please it’s fine, he’s okay, you don’t have to...” But the younger didn’t listen to him, didn’t let himself be lead back to the bed so it just slipped out “Jimin, he’s fine, the wolf is...he’s here!”

“Here?” Jimin looked at Namjoon in utter confusion before he turned around to rush out of the door. Could Namjoon hear him? Sense him being near? Did he know something that he didn’t know? Had he brought him to safety already? There was a million and one questions on his mind and Jimin could feel it hammering against his head, making it so much harder to think and only worsening his headache.

“Where? Where is he?” Jimin looked around, sounding more desperate the more he couldn’t see him. “Please, Namjoon.” He walked up to his lover, reaching out to cup his cheek as he soothed over his skin, “He protected me and it’s the least I owe him now. I love you, Namjoon, please trust me.”

How could Namjoon look at Jimin’s face, see the hope and desperation in it and then lie to him? He simply couldn’t. But he also couldn’t tell him, who know how he would react. Jimin had no home, no family, no fiancé, it had all come crashing down on him in one day. And if he got scared of Namjoon, of the only thing left to keep him sane what would he do? Namjoon was scared for him, so scared that he couldn’t speak, the words just didn’t come and so he stood there, helpless and lost, unable to tell Jimin his secret in fear of hurting him.

Jimin noticed the pain in Namjoon’s eyes right away, cupping his cheeks as his expression changed and his heart sunk. “What’s wrong? Is he hurt? Don’t tell me, ….please.” Tears cascaded down his cheeks as he thought of the wolf being hurt or worse - and more pain flooded him. He flung his arms around Namjoon and desperately sobbed, “Tell me he is okay, you said he is fine. You said he is alright.” He clung onto Namjoon as if he’d be the next person to be taken away from him. “He can’t be gone. He is my wolf!” Jimin’s voice cracked as he shook with the cries. 

Seeing Jimin cry for him was the last thing he had wanted and so his resolve crumbled with every sob and every tear until there was nothing left. He had no idea what to say to make it okay - there was nothing left but the truth. So, he said, it, quietly at first because he had never said it to anyone before and because he was scared and Jimin almost missed it.

“I.. I’m the wolf. I’m okay.” When Jimin didn’t react he took the younger’s face in his hands and gently wiped his tears away before he repeated himself, a little louder this time. “I’m the wolf, Jimin. I’m here. There’s no need to cry for me.” His hands trembled as he tried to hold on to Jimin, afraid that the younger would push him away now.

Jimin just stared at him blankly, searching his eyes to see if Namjoon was fooling him or making fun of him. He could feel the tremble coming from him and Jimin furrowed his brows, not understanding a thing anymore. “Y-you’re…Namjoon,” He sniffled. “H-how - that makes no sense. That’s not…you’re not an animal.” Jimin cocked his head aside, heart drumming hard against its cage as he tried to comprehend why Namjoon was telling him nonsense. Was it just to calm him down?

“I’ve seen the wolf, you…you told me to be aware of him as we hid from the hunters. You cared for the wounds from the scratch, you…” Jimin looked at Namjoon, really looked at him and saw nothing but honesty. There was no smirk, no fake smile, just him pleading with his deep brown eyes. The same one’s the wolf had. Jimin gasped and pushed a palm over his hand as his eyes widened. “H-how…”

“My mother. She was a wolf too. So as her son I… inherited the curse. I... I’m not always wolf, obviously but I can turn, willingly and sometimes... during full moons I turn whether I like it or not.“ He could see the words slowly sinking in as Jimin tried to work it out and then put the puzzle pieces together so he hurriedly said, “I’m so, so very sorry that I scared you during that one night! It was a full moon so I didn’t know what I was doing, I never meant to scare or to hurt you, really, I would never harm you, I didn’t mean to it’s just that I can’t really control myself but it’s only during full moons and apart from that I’m... I’m fine, you don’t have to fear me at all, I swear!” He was out of breath from talking so fast and desperately, so he sounded as lost and vulnerable as he felt when he added, “Please, don���t be scared of me.” 

The tears were silently falling when Namjoon reminded him of the night that the wolf died and the pain in his mother’s eyes. Had she always known? About the curse of the woman and her child? Jimin almost startled out of his thoughts when Namjoon begged him so desperately, laying all of his vulnerabilities out in front of him and the younger looked up.

“I was never scared of you…or the wolf.” He spoke honestly, not moving an inch away from the one he loved. “But Namjoon, how… I don’t understand. You’re human now and…” Jimin shook his head as he tried to wrap his mind around it, feeling like he couldn’t believe anything anymore after what had happened last night. “I’m sorry, but how do I know it was you?” 

Jimin sounded calmer now and Namjoon latched onto it immediately, trying to explain to make Jimin see him for him and not the creature he (sometimes) was. “It hurts but my body changes, the bones, the structure, everything. I… I could show you. Not directly please because... I figure it’s enough to take in for you already, but I could just go to the back of the house and change and come back to you as a wolf and you would see my clothes lying there and...” He swallowed hard. “You might want to cover your ears while I change because… you can hear it. The bones cracking and... I can’t keep silent during it because it hurts so much.”

“Y-your bones?” Jimin gulped heavily, his eyes flickering over his arms, soothing over his skin that showed so many scars and if this was true it might be from fights and turning. But this couldn’t be. It was absolutely mad.

Jimin stepped away from Namjoon nonetheless, not sure what he was getting himself into or if he needed to run any moment. Was he that bad at finding true love? Jimin licked over his lips as he nodded and although knowing that it would bring Namjoon pain and the guilt was flooding him, he knew he wouldn’t believe until he saw or knew for sure with whom he was dealing with. 

Namjoon tried to keep breathing normally even though his instinct would be to run and hide and never look back. He was absolutely vulnerable when he turned. And even if Jimin didn’t think of killing him because he was a monster he might still freak when he actually saw him. And even if everything worked out perfect and he wasn’t afraid, and he wouldn’t tell everyone, and he wouldn’t run than who was to say that he could still love him? Someone who turned into something entirely else, something dangerous, a predator that hunted regularly if he wanted or not. “You... you want me to turn? Are you sure?” He saw it in Jimin’s face that the other needed proof and yet he had to ask, just to see if maybe there was an out.

Jimin nodded slowly, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I understand.” Namjoon nodded his head in resignation and then started to walk away while slipping out of his shirt. He hesitated for a second, turning back to Jimin to ask him, “No matter what, don’t follow me okay? It’s ugly. The wolf - I mean I will come to you when I’m finished.” Then he went all the way to the back of the house where he discarded his clothes and cowered down onto the floor to make it easier. He tried to relax, to keep breathing and to not make a sound but he didn’t have a chance. He was still scared, his muscles were tense, and the wolf picked up on his fear, pushing through too quickly and roughly. When the first tendon snapped he cried out in pain, fingers digging into the ground to try and keep himself from crying out again, but he couldn’t help but whimper when his spine shifted, bones cracking as they rearranged themselves into his second form.

Jimin couldn’t tear his gaze away from where Namjoon had disappeared, staring at the wall, but each cracking sound, each painful sound coming from him made him jerk and yelp in phantom pain. He couldn’t understand what was happening and he was about to call out for Namjoon to come back when it was silent. Jimin was shaking, when he saw it only seconds later. Where Namjoon had disappeared, was now a wolf staring right back at him and Jimin couldn’t believe it. The wolf stood right in front of him, so close that he could reach for him and suddenly it felt like everything was clicking into place.

His mother running out into the woods, dying to protect them and crying for Namjoon’s mother the fateful night – just like he had done. The many full moon nights, she had stayed away and Jimin had been scared she would never come back. She always smiled at him then, saying in the sweetest tone that the wolf would never hurt those who they truly love. And Jimin never understood it. His grandmother asking him not to leave until he knew. Now he did. The wolf belonged to his side, just like Namjoon’s mother had belonged to hers. Only their fate hadn’t been on their side and maybe this was just the universe making this right and fixing its horrible mistakes. Jimin didn’t care, instead he stumbled a little when he took a few steps towards the wolf and slowly got onto his knees.

“Namjoon?” Jimin searched the wolf's eyes for the familiar glint in them and with a shaking hand he reached out, dangerously close to the wolf’s fangs. 

Namjoon shook out his fur to fluff it up and make it look the best as he could. He hadn’t dared to come too close in case Jimin would feel threatened but the younger only needed a little moment before he knelt down in front of him. His name sounded like a question and so Namjoon tried his best to nod, even though it came out awkward and stiff because it wasn’t how he would normally communicate when he was in his wolf form. He just didn’t. He was a little scared to meet Jimin’s eyes so he bowed his head, keeping his snout out of the youngers face to appear as docile as he could.

“It’s you,” Jimin couldn’t hold the tears back when his heart recognized his lover and his hand buried into the fur, feeling the familiar heat beneath his palm. He wasn’t scared of Namjoon, had never feared the wolf like the others did. “It was always you,” Jimin buried his other hand into the fur as he made the wolf look up at him, “You’re my wolf.” There were tears rolling down his cheeks and his heart was aching in the most beautiful way. 

Namjoon sat down, allowing himself to relax into Jimin’s embrace as the other buried his face into his fur, hands gripping into it to hold him close. He closed his eyes, trusting Jimin with his life in this moment. He pushed his snout against Jimin’s face, licking his ear because it was the only thing he could reach but he needed to show his affection or else he felt like he would burst from it.

There was still so many things he wanted to ask, so many things he didn’t understand but he knew with Namjoon by his side he would find the answers. This right here was where he belonged. His heart had known it all along. “I love you, too,” Jimin giggled, when Namjoon licked across his face with so much eagerness. He held onto the wolf tightly, letting its presence calm his mind and heart and yet, he couldn’t the deny the storm inside of him. Soothing over Namjoon’s fur, Jimin stopped to look at him with earnest. “You understand me…r-right?”

As an answer Namjoon licked him again, placing a paw onto his knee to get even closer to him and snuggle his whole furry body against Jimin’s form.

Jimin couldn’t help but smile, even though what he would ask him next hurt him and couldn’t stop the tears. “They will look for you, they will try and hurt you. I can’t let this happen. I won’t lose you!” Jimin kissed the top of the wolfs head, “You don’t deserve the hurt this forest gave you, no…you deserve to be in peace.” He choked on his words as he wrapped his arm around the wolf whose small whine made Jimin hold onto him tighter. “I don’t want you to get hurt no more and the village…it won’t be safe here anymore.” Jimin kissed the tip of Namjoon’s wet nose as he looked at him with tear-filled eyes. “I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. You’re my wolf and I need you to run away from here.” He breathed out the words that made him ache so badly, whispering the words into his fur. 

Jimin was right and Namjoon knew this. They couldn’t exactly tell the villagers that one of them had murdered their people, they simply wouldn’t believe it and the only proof they had was Jimin who was seen as the ‘crazy witch kid’ already. They might burn him for it like they had burned his mother. So, leaving was the best option, Namjoon knew this. He howled at the thought of leaving the woods behind where he had grown up and where his mother had taught him to be a wolf, because it was the only thing he had left from here. However, if he wanted to have a future he needed to let go of the past. And he wanted this, a future, together with Jimin. The would find a space for them, maybe find another village that was more open minded and where Jimin could thrive.

“Run away with me, Namjoon. I won’t leave your side ever again. It’s where I need to be, with you…on full moon nights just as every other night.” Jimin smiled at him, wiping away the tears with a soft chuckle. “Do you think you can carry me?” There wasn’t much to take from his home anyways. It was replaceable. Jimin got up and walked around the big wolf, waiting for Namjoon’s response before climbing onto his back. He could feel the muscles shift underneath, the warm fur warming him perfectly as he leaned in and over him. “Let’s say goodbye to her, please.” Jimin placed a kiss on top of Namjoon’s head, holding onto him tightly, “And please never look back again.” 

Namjoon let out an affirmative jip at that. Hope bloomed in his chest as the happiness filled him up. Jimin wouldn’t leave him. He said he would be with him, even during the full moon... he didn’t have to be alone any longer. 

None of them did. 

They had each other now. He tensed his muscles and then started running, with Jimin on his back, to where his paws would take them.

A/N: Ahhhh, we hope you enjoyed our very first adventure into our fairytale world! What’s next? How about beauty and the beast? ;) 

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[wersoverytired]

Watching the Supernatural finale hours after almost dying is, well. Different.

I cannot stress this enough: MAJOR triggers for frank discussion of a recent suicide attempt (no, not because SPN ended). Steer clear if this might hit too close to home. I'm no longer at risk, this happened a while ago and is over, and my care manager is aware.

Right, and spoilers for the series finale.

_____ _____ _____

I'm old enough to have been a fan of SPN since 2005. And considering the fact that childhood abuse had me suicidal at around age 12, probably earlier, it's safe to say that I have never watched the show without that constant battle going on in the background, unrelated.

When Dean said he was tired, that he was done, I got it. When Sam asked in that abandoned chapel what the upside was to him being alive, or when he confided in his brother in a hotel hallway that he had always felt unclean somehow, I could relate. There was more to the show than that, of course -- the love, the loyalty, the humor -- but the struggle was another point of connection.

As both the show and I grew long in the tooth, and my life circumstances were progressive getting worse (as they sometimes do when you carry untreated trauma), I used SPN and the fandom as a comfort. And increasingly, living to see how the Winchester story ends became one of those grappling hooks you latch on to when you look for reasons to keep going just a little longer.

Naturally, that didn't (and couldn't) arm me against the waves of acute, hope-obliterating, soul-sucking despair that can routinely crash on your head when you're dealing with poverty, chronic physical illness and disability -- and in a harsh country, too -- as well as being severely post traumatic and dissociative. Saving me was never the show's job, nor should it have been. I used it as much as I could, though.

The more I felt like I had to die, the more I tried. Dying hardly ever comes naturally, not even when you feel like there's no other way. Painfully isolated and increasingly bedridden, I watched convention panels and smiled so hard my face hurt. Other times I cried. And I made online friends, often through the fandom, who made life less empty. Who loved and laughed and cried with me from afar. It's hard to overstate the effect that can have when you're trapped in a body that's pretty much your cage, with a mind that's wounded and struggling.

I kept fighting. But I also kept finding myself, over and over again, faced with the reality that most people who are deeply traumatized, certainly those who are also severely dissociative, get to know early on: the world excels at letting many of us know that there's no place for us. Fighting hard to survive with about 10% of what I need to live, I sometimes find it hard not to listen to that toxic message that many survivors and disabled folks hear and feel coming at them over and over: you're too broken to justify the cost and effort of keeping you alive.

It's been an especially hard couple of years in that sense. And as the finale was months, then weeks, then days away, I kept telling myself to wait. Wait for that. Decide later. "Deciding later" is a survival technique I've been using for decades now whenever I get actively suicidal. It's not a bad one.

So that very last Thursday evening (or very late night, where I live) came around. And it so happens that I was at the very end of my rope. Again, for unrelated reasons to the show ending, obviously. And I couldn't go on.

The finale was hours away, and off I went on that same journey. Wait. Wait just long enough to see how it ends. It's been 15 years. You've survived so far, and that bit of closure, at least, is within reach. Just fucking wait to watch that last episode; see how they go before you do. Let that be the one last kind thing you do for yourself.

I kept telling myself that even as I numbly went through my final checklist.

I know it hurts so much. I know this damn body is tortured beyond what you can stand, I know we've been told it's about to get even worse. And hours more of this seem like an eternity. Watching anything seems impossible. I know the PTSD is intolerable, I know you can't sleep, you live in constant fear and rage and exhaustion; I know you're alone in this.

I know you live in a place that has made its peace with people like you dying of Covid, and finds it a small price to pay for refusing to wear masks. I know how that makes you feel, to be told that your life is worth that little because you're disabled. I know 9 months of what amounts to house arrest, while living alone, have made everything so much worse. I know you just want to go.

But wait to watch how it ends. And decide later. You can go later. You can.

And I almost made it. I mean, I'm obviously still here, so I eventually survived. But I tried not to. I couldn't wait.

Sometimes, when you get to the lowest low point, when you are in all-encompassing agony, when your circumstances leave no room for hope even though you desperately want to live -- and I do, I so want to live -- no show, no fandom, no unfinished story can keep you from taking that step over the edge. Many times it can, but there are places where nothing has any meaning. Thursday night became one of those. Watching the finale was a faded notion in the background of all that agony, and then it was nothing at all.

I only managed to write one goodbye letter. Hard to be as organized as you imagined you would be, hard not to leave unforgivable loose ends. I have no memory of what the letter said, and I can't look at it, not yet. It's tucked away now, just out of view.

And then I went about doing the only thing that I felt could be done.

I didn't get to go away. Both because I couldn't stand the torment of the only method I had handy, though I sure gave it my best efforts -- two more minutes would have sealed the deal -- and because I was fucking afraid to die. All the way through, until I gave up and stopped what I was doing.

Fear of dying when you're your own executioner is an odd thing. Your body wants out of this plan you've made for you both. It responds like you'd expect when someone's life in under threat. It makes you have to run to the bathroom over and over, it makes your heart hammer in your chest and your ears ring.

There was no crying. Not at that point. I don't think there was crying when I gave up and accepted that I was staying alive, either. But I can't remember.

I don't know what I did during the few hours after that. The physical consequences of what I did were gone within half an hour or so -- being so ill, I knew not to try something that would land me in the ER during COVID, should I not complete the plan. I'd also be on my own there, and most likely dissociated to such a degree that I wouldn't be able to move or speak. That's not something I ever wanted to experience again, and a fucking horrible starting point if I survived.

Anyway, I was okay physically soon enough, which is not how it usually goes. I just remember being fuzzy and distant and alone. There was no one to call, and I also thought about how it would feel to get a call like that. I considered a crisis hotline, but didn't have the energy to explain my messy, complicated circumstances. I probably just lay there.

A few hours later, I was present enough to watch the finale. Still don't know how. Dissociation has it occasional advantages, one of which is being disconnected from certain things when it's all too much. And so I watched the final episode in bed, with the aftermath of that suicide attempt still all around me.

I watched Dean die the way he did. I watched Sam die. I watched them both being given the pained, tearful reassurance that it was okay to go. Watched them being held, watched those two strong, kindhearted, emotional, loyal men crying as they breathed their last. Dean's death, especially, broke my heart. He so clearly did not want to die. Was afraid, more than ever before.

I did cry then. I sobbed. I could cry for them. Hell, I could cry for that dog, wandering with Sam through the empty halls of the bunker. I cried as that dog looked up, with all that trust and love, at the only human he had left. I cried for Sam, sitting drained and aching in the dark library. Saying "I know, me too" on the unmade bed in Dean's cold, empty room.

Before that, back in the barn, I watched Dean not want to go. Sam begging him not to go, then forcing himself to tell his older brother what he needed, what he begged to hear. That he wasn't abandoning the one person he had spent his life looking out for. That Sam would survive him going, now that he had to go.

I never saved the world, and there's nothing heroic about me. But so much of what went on around those characters' deaths echoed what I had felt hours earlier, what I still was feeling. It gave me a safe way to cry for that, too.

I will always be grateful to the show for that small mercy. And grateful to Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki, whom I've never met and never will, and have given such phenomenal performances here that they reached through all that distance, to unknowingly touch an ache that I could not cry for. They'll never know that. I imagine there are so many people like me who feel the same gratefulness, too, for their own similar moments of human connection.

The show is over now, and I try not to be sad about that, and I'm sure I will be. It would be sadder if I didn't feel a loss. Meanwhile, life doesn't stall just because you tried to stop your own. It's around two weeks later now, bright and loud outside my window in a world that's not safe for me to go out in, and I am lying in bed in a half-lit room trying to manage my pain. I didn't die. I'm still here.

I can't pretend I'm glad that I am, but I also know that I'm not ready to go yet. I'm just not. I have no good reason for that; sometimes you're just too afraid to die. And so I can't see myself trying to go away again any time soon. My health might take care of that for me anyway, but otherwise, looks like I'm stuck on this ride.

I'm very grateful that I've had SPN and its people for so long through this battle, to give me and the rest of the fandom so much more than meets the eye. And I'm grateful for that last, good cry, too.

Well, not the last cry, for sure. There's always rewatch #475783. 

[laceymorganwrites]

Where do we go when we go?

Word Count: 3,356

Pairing: Law x reader

Song: Where do we go when we go? - Neck Deep

Warnings: cursing, suicidal themes

A/N: so i went a bit overboard with this… but I think I got a better understanding for Law´s character after writing this, after all those songfics for me are just a way to improve my writing and the understanding of certain characters.

GIF NOT MINE

Pain, pain go away,

Law was always in pain. Whether it was physically or mentally, a part of him always ached. Ached with anger, with misery, damage, ached with the desperate want of release. There was no denying he deserved it, he knew himself too well, maybe he was a bit of a masochist in the sense that he enjoyed it in some twisted way. It was the universe telling him how much of an asshole he was, how many bad things he did, how many innocent people he harmed. And the bad thing was that he wouldn´t stop. He´d rather suck up all the pain and not change his ways. He had to do this alone, as he did with the rest of his life. Solitude was the only way for Law. Come back another day,

But he didn´t want to feel like shit today. Fuck, not today. Not if there were any consequences for his behavior for once, not when there was actually something on the line. That being the first impression he would give to you. And he didn´t want to fuck that up like everything else in his life. Normally he´d say screw it, what did he think what some random stranger thought of him? They´d never understand him anyway, so fuck them. But Robin told him he´d never experience happiness if he just kept pushing people away. How could he say they´d never understand if he didn´t let them? And maybe she was right, which Law didn´t like to admit. If she was right, it wouldn´t be good for his ego. If she was right, everything in his life up until now would´ve been a lie. I just wanna get one up on life before it kills me.

He lived his life out of spite. Quite literally. Spite was the fuel that kept him going. Just the pure knowledge that people out there were outraged by him merely existing, it was just too pleasurable for the sadistic bastard. If others didn´t want him to live and do the things he did, that just spurred him on even more. His whole life was one big risk, one big fuck you to the world. And so far it´s paid him off with solitude. Which was good for him, it meant no people bugging him. Nobody could tell him what to do, he was free. And if the price of freedom was loneliness, he´d endure it. Because loneliness was all he´s ever known, he couldn´t know any better. And who the fuck would care if some pirate scum like him croaked because of his own stupidity, nobody would mourn him. I guess we'll never know, If when we´re gone there's a place to go.

Law thought about death too often, no doubt about it. He had everything planned out in his life, his goals, the solitude, that he´d never make any alliances and that he would never open himself up to another person and fall in love. Well, despite the fact that he somehow managed to break every single one of his stupid rules spoke volumes about the doctor. Maybe that was the reason why he suddenly was scared of dying and what would happen after his death. Before he just winged everything, taking all the risks he could. Yes, he might´ve had some plans, he always did and still does, but that doesn´t mean they are safe. In fact before his alliance with the Strawhats all of them were doomed. All of his plans were risky and ended up with him dying. But none of that mattered to him, why should it? It was his own fate, it didn´t affect anyone and nobody else had a say in his life, it was his decision. Or if we don't see anything at all,

Ever since he joined up with Strawhat, he couldn´t say that he saw his path as clearly anymore. Actually he didn´t see a fucking thing anymore. All the plans he made, all that he stood for, everything that happened in his life up until now, all of it was in vain. Just because of some fucking people who called themselves his friends. He didn´t need friends. And they were lying anyway, nobody could befriend him, Law was too much of an asshole on purpose for that. He was meant to be a loner, not a friend. He wasn´t meant to be protected by people, he wasn´t meant to be cared about. He didn´t want to be protected and cared for. He just wanted to be alone. Needless to say he didn´t believe any of the Strawhats when they proclaimed him their friend. Is that what we´re supposed to call faith?

But after he adjusted to the new circumstance, Law did manage to relax and open up a little. It was the survival of the fittest in the New World, one could only get by by adapting to one´s environment. And that´s just what he did. He had friends now, huh? He got especially close to Robin and Zoro, he felt as if he could be himself around them without being judged. They shared a lot of things, had a lot of things in common. They laughed about the same things and always knew what the other felt and needed in that moment. Law didn´t know what to think of that, it was weird. Why would anyone go out of their way to make friends that are that close to each other? To him getting close to someone meant betraying them and using the information they gave him against them. But with the Strawhats he felt like he could trust them oddly enough. He never trusted anyone in his life, not even himself. Hell, himself in the very least. But who knew, maybe his life wouldn´t be so miserable now that he found friends. Well if that is that, and it all just fades to black,

And then there was you. Law didn´t see you as a friend and he didn´t want you to see him as such. He didn´t want to be your friend. He wanted to be someone special to you, he wanted you to see him the way he saw you, as an angel. He didn´t want you to smile at him as you smiled at all the others, he wanted you to smile at him sweetly, a special smile reserved for him. Every time he saw you, his heart jumped. And every time he almost had a heart attack because that´s what he thought this strange feeling was. But after an analysis of all the other symptoms and a thorough talk with Robin, he finally acknowledged that he was in love. Another thing he swore he´d never be. Love was weakness, it was useless and only hurt. Maybe that´s why he was drawn to you. He wanted you to be his savior, bring out the best in him and then prove him right in betraying him. He wanted to make you love him as he loved you only to prove to himself that it wasn´t possible, nobody would ever love him, it only would be a lie. Love was just a camouflage for betrayal and sadism. That thought made him smirk. And we don't see anything at all, We don't see anything, What are you waiting for?

Maybe love wasn´t so bad after all. Maybe it was just faking to be misunderstood like he was. Maybe love too was pretending to have changed into something better when in reality it was laughing at everyone who believed in the petty lie. Nothing could change Law. Or that´s what he told himself. He knew better of course, but he didn´t want to admit it. Why would he? So everyone knew he was wrong? Hell no. Nevertheless he couldn´t get you out of his head, you disturbed his mind in the most inconvenient moments and he really couldn´t use this right now. Pain, pain go away, Come back another day, I just wanna get one up on life before it kills me. And I can't put my faith in a fallacy, I just wanna get one up on life before it kills me. The world is a funny place,

Law was never a person to crack jokes or laugh at them, jokes were a waste of time, something only desperate people tended to. He amused himself at his and others misery, their pain and agony, his own. He never was a person to be deemed funny, well, he did share the same dark humor with Robin, but overall he wasn´t really a funny person. That´s why you irritated him to no end, you who laughed at the things he said in an uncharacteristic try of humor. You giggled at his bitter comments and then gave him a shy smile, looking at him with all the hope in the world. Every time you smiled, or showed any other sign of affection, Law felt his heart sink into his chest and subconsciously smiled back, or he tried. The closest he ever got to a real smile was his usual sadistic smirk. It kicks you when you're down

And yet he couldn´t talk to you. Why was that? Why was it that whenever there was an opportunity he not only wasted it, but he screwed it up over and over again, making a complete fool out of him. Robin actually got so sick and tired of it that she almost called him out in front of the whole crew. But in a moment of better judgment she sought Law out in private to scold him. She was the one who set this whole date thing up today. Well, she forced Law to have night watch with you, snickering wickedly to herself. She clearly was more sadistic than the doctor could ever hope to be. And knocks you out when you get up again.

So there he was, in the cold of a winter island, standing guard and watching over the ship with you. You were very suspect of this whole ordeal, you just hoped Robin didn´t tell Law about that moment you accidentally let it slip how attractive and funny you thought he was. To tell the truth, you also became quite intrigued with the doctor ever since he joined up with you for the alliance. How could you not? Everyone was curious, it was only natural. And what would one do if someone like Law, a wandering book with seven seals, came along if not try to break every single one of them. But you quickly learned that you shouldn´t ever try to break them. Getting inside his head and trying to get personal information out of him was near impossible. Instead of telling you small, funny anecdotes, people that inspired him in his life, his goals and dreams, he only listed off all the gruesome things he´s done, all of his innocent victims, he went into extreme detail how much pain he has caused. I don't think it's worth suffering through.

Needless to see the rest of the night was quiet and uncomfortable. It left you wishing you never asked Law about himself, it made you wish you never even talked to him or did so much as glance at him. You hated being gloomy over silly things like that, he´d be gone if the whole plan was a success, or if it wasn´t. Maybe it wasn´t necessarily heartache you felt, maybe it was just the sheer disappointment of you trying to be nice to him and actually make an effort in trying to converse with him, yet it was all for naught. And quite honestly you were pissed at that. At least you told yourself it was disappointment instead of heartache, but you´d never admit to having such a stupid thing as a heartache, because that would mean you´d also admit to liking Law. But on the other hand, There's a world full of possibilities

Yes, it was childish. But so was Law´s behavior. As soon as you asked one little question about him, something trivial and unimportant, he closed up again and pushed you away. It was what he always did, something he couldn´t let go no matter how hard he tried. He felt so sorry after the things he said to you, the way he scared you off and yet he never actually apologized to you, he was just too embarrassed. And honestly Law wasn´t one to be good at formulating words. Sure, it was his charm, the way he could go from smug to dork in a matter of seconds, it was a personality trait that really warmed your heart and never failed to make you smile. And a million other people just like you

Then again Law wasn´t the only attractive man on the planet. There were others who exposed the same charming traits of him, but none of the bad ones. But did you really want to meet them? Did that really make them better than him? To you the bad things belonged to Law as much as his good ones. The only thing that really bugged you about him was how much he let himself be guided by his bad side, how much he defined himself over it as if he didn´t have a good one too. Who've all been through what you've been through,

All you wanted to do was to tell him he wasn´t alone. You wanted to figure out what made him the way he was, but he wouldn´t let you, you understood him too well. Everybody had secrets too dark to share, it was normal. So why did you want to rip off the band aid brutally and make Law´s wound bleed again? Maybe you were sadistic just like him. They were singing… Pain, pain go away, Come back another day, I just wanna get one up on life before it kills me. And I can't put my faith in a fallacy, I just wanna get one up on life before it kills me. I saw it all flash and pass by

There went his chance with you, Law thought. He wasn´t surprised at all at how much he fucked up again, it was the only thing he was half decent at. Yet it didn´t fill him with satisfaction like it usually would, instead the void inside of him only grew. When he told Robin about his struggles, she frowned at first before she started giggling. You also ranted about Law to her. Robin gave you the tip to be patient, Law would come around, he didn´t mean what he said and he didn´t know how to voice his affection towards others, let alone figure out he actually held those affections. With bright lights

You thanked her before leaving her with a smile. Patience, huh? You weren´t really a patient person, but you got it, you didn´t want to jump onto Law, getting all personal. It was stupid, the more you thought about it. You would´ve reacted the same way if someone asked you about your deepest, darkest secrets for the first time you talked. Well, maybe not exactly the same way, you´d turn to other measures than tell that person in detail how many people you killed and that their screams haunted you every night and you still didn´t regret it. Perhaps he was a lost cause, but perhaps he was also just a broken man, maybe he was both. Maybe the sadistic asshole stuff was only a facade of it all. But then again, probably not. And right before my eyes was the Exit sign.

Law has been lost so many times in his life, not even metaphorically speaking, he was just shit at orientation and never really knew where he was. So he was more than glad to be on a crew that had a great navigator, it just gave him a sense of security he needed in his life. He never had any sort of security or reassurance, his life was always hanging on a thread, not because of his sickness, well, not entirely because of it anyway. It was more like he kept fucking things up, real bad too. Law has always lived his life with death hanging at his back, death was always present in his life, whether he was awake or not. Sometimes it felt like the sweetest release on earth, sometimes it annoyed him to no end. I saw it all flash and pass by

Today was one of those days. He finally had some sort of false sense of security and happiness, he met people that genuinely cared about him, made friends, fell in love, yet he still felt death´s cold glare at his back, as if it was saying: “You´re next”. But he didn´t want to be. Not this time. For the first time in his life he actually took some care of himself, he watched out for any risks that could harm him or his friends. And asked why I wasted precious time,

It all made sense to him now, the way he lived his life before didn´t count as living, it was mere survival with a pinch or making others suffer and betrayal both of his side and behalf. Now it was different, he could open up to Robin and Zoro, they shared everything with each other, it felt secure. And without them he would´ve never reflected upon his actions and the words he said, the way he said them, the way he meant them and the way you understood them. And most importantly they gave him the guts to actually apologize to you, explain himself, at least a little. But that was a start, it was something. It just passed me by. It just passed me by.

In turn you did something he wasn´t used to, you forgave him. But you also apologized for asking such a personal and intimate question. “It´s fine, I guess that´s how you show that you care… if you do that is” he stumbled over his words again. But how could he not with you being so close to him? He could feel the way you breathed, your nervous ticks, the shy way you looked at him and the slight frown, the hurt in your eyes. “Of course I care… how could I not?” you whispered to prevent your voice from shaking from all the nervousness you experienced right now. We are just passing by. (Just passing by.) Just passing by. Oh, we are just passing by. (Just passing by.) Just passing by.

“Trust me, there are more reasons to not care about me than there are reasons to actually like me” Law bitterly commented and you pouted, making him smirk. It made him want to hug you and hold you close. But the way he knew himself, he´d tease you about it until you grew sick and tired of him and left. “Those are your reasons though, not mine. And frankly speaking, I don´t care about your reasons. I trust my heart and what it tells me” you crossed your arms, you looked like a mother scolding her child. Law´s smirk grew wider with every second he looked at you. “You know hearts can´t speak, right?” he remarked teasingly and watched your face go from disbelief, to disappointment, to the corners of your lips twitching to you bursting out into full on laughter.

And damn, if Law could make you laugh like that, he was doing something right in his pitiful life. A certain pride filled him when he saw you fighting for air and when you looked at him again, you started laughing again. “You´re an idiot” you giggled, finally breathing normally again. “I know” Law smirked awkwardly. Pain, pain go away, Come back another day, I just wanna get one up on life before it kills me. I can't put my faith in a fallacy, I don't wanna wait for that goodbye to see what could've been. And I just wanna get one up on life before it kills me.

[onedayiwillflyfree]

When the Sun Begins to Fall Chapter Nine: Roy

TW: talks of suicide and depression/anxiety

Read the full story here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21255530/chapters/50608787

                                                     ----

“Your mother and I have worked too damn hard to ensure your future and here you are trying to throw it away? You’re a disgrace, you’re filth. An embarrassment to the Gardner name.” The eldest son of the Gardner family held the half empty bottle of whisky to his lips as he stared out into the never ending sea. Waves crashed high against the pier, their anger growing with the incoming storm. A particularly enraged one flew high, soaking through his shoes and socks. He couldn’t feel it anymore though, his toes had gone numb around the fourth swig of the bottle. Tears dropped, freezing to his cheeks in the frigid February winds. “You will take a wife, she will bear your children, and you will be the perfect husband and businessman. You will not sully our good name because you want to galavant around like a goddamn ponce.”

“Sod off, you prick.” Roy mumbled into the bottle as the liquid fire slid down his throat. When he was a boy, he swore that he would never be a drinking man like his father, but as he got older, he began to get these attacks that would make his heart race and the drink seemed to be the only thing that could calm him. He would never drink too much, only just a nip but today, he needed an extra dose of courage.

It was quiet where he was, only a few brave souls wandering the streets but no one paid him any mind. Nor should they have, the temperature was well below freezing. They were in a hurry, trying to make it to their destination without catching their death, which would only take a few hours. Four hours to be precise. He knows, he calculated that when he was in the early stages of planning how he wanted his life to end. 

He had considered  lying down on a park bench and slowly letting his body shut down. It seemed like a very good option. He would most certainly be found quickly and it would cause quite the scandal for his parents. But then, with it being so public, he also ran into the problem of others recognizing him and dragging him home. No, freezing to death wouldn’t work. 

His mind traveled through so many different options. Each more morbid than the last but none quite appealing to him. He wanted his death to be meaningful to him.

That was when his mind went to the sea. Roy had always adored the water, considering it to be vast with possibilities and wonder. Water in the ocean was free, uncontrollable..something that he had always desired. His thoughts then wandered to a book he had read a few months ago on one of his private nighttime strolls. Within that book, the main character has her own awakening within the water of the ocean, much like his own awakening when he was swimming with Matthew Clyde in the sixth grade. And much like Edna Pontellier, his story would also end with his final descent into the ocean. Yes, the sea would work just fine.

So there he stood, downing a bottle of the finest whiskey the bartender would allow him (after throwing it on his father's tab, of course) staring out at what would soon become his tomb. It would be cold, sure. It would hurt, of course. But he would be free, finally free the chains that had bound him his entire life. 

He swallowed the last drop before he threw the bottle behind him, not caring who would step on the shards of glass that were now littering the pier. It was time, Roy was ready. He took a few steps back, ready to throw himself over the rail. Earlier, he decided that he didn’t want his last thoughts to be fear, he wanted to think of the last time he felt true happiness. His mind wandered to the handsome artist with strawberry blonde hair that would tickle his face as they kissed, his blue eyes that looked like a cloudless summer morning. Roy swallowed, smiling ever so slightly at the solace the nameless man he had met only but one time brought him. Yes, he would miss him.

One step, then another, he quickened his pace ready to throw himself over the rail. 

CRASH! Roy was knocked sideways, landing in the icy snow with a hard thud. “What the bloody hell?” He mumbled, rubbing his shoulder that was most certainly going to bruise.

Roy looked up, his gaze connecting with the most peculiar and panicked ginger-haired woman. “Oh my word! I am so deeply sorry! Are you alright? I lose my head whenever I am deeply in thought, Marilla says it will be my death, but I find myself coming from the most frightfully frustrating situations and I was hoping that taking a walk could help me clear my head before tea. But oh look! I have gone and run into somebody again! Stupid, you’re so stupid.” He was unsure if she was talking to him or if she was scolding herself as he cocked an eyebrow. Her eyes widened as she sputtered, her entire face darkening three shades of pink. “Oh no, not you. I was referring to myself. I am the stupid one, I ran into you after all! I’m sure you are of incredible intelligence.” She shook her head, realizing she was talking nonsense to a man who was sitting in a pile of snow. “Here,” she extended her hand out. “Let me help you.”

Still confused and unsure of what just happened, he hesitantly took the strange womans hand and much to his surprise she pulled him up with ease. Roy dusted the snow from his pants as the woman continued rambling. “I am truly, terribly sorry sir. I do hope you can forgive me. But as I said, whenever my mind is burdened I tend to forget myself and my mind is definitely most troubled at the moment. I… I am talking too much, aren’t I?” He was unsure what to say or if she would even let him get in a word edgewise, so instead he shook his head. “Oh, you’re too kind, truly. I have been so rude, haven’t I? Rambling on and on without so much as a proper introduction. Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. And if you ever feel so inclined to spell it, Anne is spelled with an E.” She extended her hand once more, only this time hoping he would shake it.

He accepted it, giving it two firm shakes.“Uh, Roy. Royal Gardner.” 

Anne beamed, grasping tighter to his hand. “Well, Royal Gardner, it is ever so lovely to make your acquaintance. Even though I do wish the meeting could have happened another way besides my running into you.”

“Um, well, it’s quite alright. I was just…” His words drifted away from him as he stared out into the ocean. Anne’s face softened, her gaze following his. 

“You know, I’ve always liked when the ocean was like this.” She dropped his hand, gliding over to the railing where she peered over the edge. 

Who is this woman? Roy thought to himself, still confused more than he had probably ever been in his nineteen years. He knew he should walk away, he had a plan to finish but there was something about this fire haired woman that captivated him. It was almost as if she had put a spell on him. He stepped closer to rail, this time having zero desire to jump, only curiosity for what she was going to say next. “I’ve always liked it when the waters are so rough that it appears every wave is fighting against one another.”

“That’s different.” He said, still unable to pull his eyes away from this mysterious woman. She brushed a stray curl behind her ear, her fingers were quivering from the bitter air.

“I suppose it is. But there is nothing wrong with being different in my opinion.” Her eyes never left the battling waters as a smile grew on her lips. “Society looks down upon those who do not follow the norms that they have put in place. They want everyone to remain steady, to know their place and follow preset paths. But to me, people are like waves. No wave is the same and not a single person is the same. Don’t you think?” She peered over to Roy, who was hanging tightly to every word she spoke. Somewhere in the distance, the clock struck three and her face dropped. “Oh no! I am going to be late!” 

She pushed past Roy, who was stunned by her sudden departure. This woman, who had just crashed into his life so suddenly was running out of it just as quick. He wanted to let her go, to never see her again and go continue with his plan but something nagged at the back of his mind. “Wait! I have a question, Miss,” he cried, chasing her down the pier. She slowed her pace, allowing her to catch him. 

“Yes?” Her smile was so soft that he knew it could calm the most intense storms.

“You said people are like oceans?” She nodded as he fought to catch his breath. “So… why… do you like these types of water? Couldn’t that be seen as the bad in people.”

Anne’s smile widened. “I suppose some could. But I prefer to see it as something else entirely.” He nodded, urging her to continue. “I see the rough seas as a conflict within a person. Their thoughts and feelings going to war with one another when life gets difficult.” Roy tried not to react but his eyes began to burn and he knew it wasn’t just from the chill in the air. “But then, when life begins to get easier, that war calms, much like the sea after a storm. Does that make any sense?”

Roy tears poured over the lids of his eyes as he nodded. He tried to hide his eyes but it was too late, she had seen and offered him a handkerchief lined with purple and pink flowers. Anne looked down the road, allowing Roy a minute to dry his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered as he handed her back the cloth. 

She accepted it as a devilish smirk danced on her lips. “Mr. Gardner, forgive me for being bold but how would you like to join my friend and I for tea?” 

“Oh, I couldn’t intrude…” 

Anne wrapped her arm within his and began dragging him along side her. “Nonsense! Cole loves company! Oh, I am sure you two will simply adore one another. He’s an artist, you know.”

-------

Gilbert’s head felt like it was going to explode. Roy’s story and confession mixed with being slammed against the wall earlier was making thinking way more difficult than it needed to be. “You’re telling me… that Anne…”

“Saved my life.” Roy finished for him, rolling his eyes as he took large strides towards Green Gables. “I just said that. Keep up.” His pace quickened, practically breaking into a run as he left the group behind. Gilbert walked alongside Cole, while Diana and Jerry trailed behind, walking close enough that their fingers would occasionally graze against the others. Gilbert pinched the bridge of his nose, he really couldn’t deal with another secret relationship. 

“Sorry about Royal,” Cole said, not taking his eyes off of his love but offered a polite smile. “His temper has gotten a lot better, but he slips up on occasion. He is actually pretty great once you get to know him.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m sure.” Gilbert rubbed the back of his head, where an egg sized lump had begun to form. His eyes drifted to Cole, feeling instantly remorseful when he noticed his lip had been bleeding. “Sorry about your lip.”

Cole smirked, shaking his head. “You know, I warned him to not pick a fight with you, told him that he would probably lose. But whenever Anne is upset, he becomes incredibly protective over her.” He peered over to Gilbert. “Suppose he is like you in that sense.” Gilbert raised an eyebrow in confusion. Cole chuckled. “Hey, don’t deny it. I saw Billy’s shiner the day after you decked him.”

Gilbert bit his lip, he had totally forgotten about the first time he let his anger get the better of him. The right hook to Billy Andrews face had been a long time coming and had been incredibly satisfying, even if it left his knuckles throbbing the following morning. He looked at his knuckles. They had stopped bleeding thankfully, but they were caked with dirt and grime.

“Oh no,” Cole mumbled, Gilbert looked up to see a furious Marilla scolding Roy as if he were a small child. His stomach dropped, he would take a fist to the face over receiving one of Marilla’s scoldings any day.

“Of all the childish and selfish things you boys could have gone and done, a fight? In my clean kitchen no less?!” Marilla’s voice was sharp. Her gaze never left Roy, but she pointed a harsh finger directly at Gilbert. “Over here. Now.”

Gilbert swallowed, stepping slowly towards what could be his eminent doom. He took his place next to a nervous Roy while Marilla glared at both of them. Over the course of his life, he had not found himself afraid often, but he knew that the look Marilla was giving Roy and he would haunt him for the rest of his days. “Marilla…” 

“Don’t you Marilla me.” He cowered, remembering days ago standing in the very same spot and her being overjoyed to embrace him. She crossed her arms. “Honestly, I expected more from both of you!” She scoffed, focusing fully on Gilbert. “Especially you, Gilbert. I know for a fact that John raised you better.”

Her words stung, as if she was physically smacking him with each syllable. Marilla was right. Even though his father had taught him to stand up to injustice and to always protect those he loved, he threw the first punch on a purely selfish reason. He couldn’t meet her eyes as heat crept upon his cheeks. 

“Miss Cuthbert…” Roy’s voice sounded confident, but he flinched when Marilla shot her daggers at him once more. “Ma’am, Gilbert… well it wasn’t all his fault. I said some rather vulgar words towards him…” He swallowed as Gilbert slowly lifted his eyes towards the man he had almost pulverized just moments before. What was he doing?  Roy cleared his throat as Marilla looked on impatiently. “Cole and Anne, well they have told me that I have a horrible temper and it is something I am trying to improve. Gilbert…” he hesitated, as if the next words were sour in his mouth. “Well, Gil just knocked some sense into me.” Roy smiled and held out his hand. “Gil, I apologize for my childish actions.”

Gilbert had to hinge his jaw in order for it to not fall to the floor as he took Roy’s hand cautiously, really unsure if the apology was genuine or just for show. Roy squeezed Gilbert’s hand, digging his fingers into his scabbed knuckles. Well, that answers that. “And I apologize for hitting you… multiple times.” Gilbert said the words cordially enough, but he squeezed Roy’s hand with every ounce of strength he had left. The men looked up to Marilla, hands still locked and each one trying to squeeze harder than the other, and flashed boyish grins. 

Her hawk eyes appeared unconvinced but after the events of this whole weekend, she was too exhausted to care. “I expect better from both of you from now on.” They nodded frantically, much like two schoolboys who had just escaped a lashing from their marm. “Good. Diana,” Diana pulled away from Jerry and straightened. “Boil some water for these two, they will not be stepping in my house until they have washed themselves.”

Gilbert looked down, realizing just how dirty both he and Roy had gotten. His shirt was covered in dirt and grass stains, Roy being worse off than him. His entire back was caked with mud, his hair slowly falling out from its gelled form, and his lip had a small cut on the right hand corner. 

Diana nodded, “Yes Marilla. I’ll go get that started.” She took timid steps away from Jerry.

Marilla pursed her lips, keenly aware that Diana wouldn’t leave him first. “Jerry, have you milked Prejudice this morning?” 

A blush arose on his cheeks. “No ma’am. I’ll go do that now.” Jerry turned and walked away quickly, casting a brief glance to Diana before heading into the barn.

Marilla sighed and mumbled. “You children will be the death of me.” She looked back over the men and pointed to the steps below her. “Sit right here, Diana will be out shortly after she brings Anne up some water as well.” She stopped short, holding the door open for Diana and Cole. “I trust you two are going to be civil.”

“Yes ma’am.” They said in unison. For two men that were not fond of the other, Gilbert was starting to realize they may be more similar than he originally thought.

“Good.” Marilla followed Diana and Cole through the door, leaving the two men alone in silence.

Roy and Gilbert exchanged glances and pulled apart, Roy wiping his hand on his dirty pants as if the germs he received from the handshake were worse than the mud. Gilbert rolled his eyes and looked down at the daylily bushes that had broken his fall earlier. He bent down, trying his best to fluff the fallen buds and leaves, but they continued to droop sadly. “Anne’s gonna kill me,” he mumbled to himself. 

Roy chuckled from the steps where he had decided to rest. “That’s for sure.” Gilbert rolled his eyes once more, not wanting to cause new tensions. Roy bit his lip, realizing he was behaving poorly and rubbed the back of his neck. “So… Anne told me you helped her plant those after Matthew died.” 

Be civil. Gilbert packed the soil around the plant to assist it in standing upright. “Yeah...I did. She had a rough go of it for a while after he passed. One day she made sixteen apple pies...” 

“Sixteen? That’s impressive,” Roy laughed genuinely. 

Gilbert smirked. “Delicious too. Pretty sure all of Avonlea gained ten pounds that day. We figured we needed to find a healthier outlet for her.” He wiped his nose, the chill in the air was beginning to make it run. “So when she suggested that Green Gables had become gray without him, we went on a search for any vendors that still had blooms left. Could only find these but they brought her joy, so it made me happy.” 

Roy nodded, eyes trailing to the flowers. “Well they’re beautiful. She said whenever we found a home that she wanted to transfer some of the bushes from here. She played it off that she simply wanted a piece of home... but secretly I think she wanted something to remind her of you.” Gilbert looked away from the flowers as sadness crept in. “So you’re really not gonna ask me, are you?” Roy asked. 

Gilbert met his eyes. “Ask you what?” 

It was Roy’s turn to roll his eyes. “All the questions that are swarming through that tiny brain of yours.” He tapped his temple. Gilbert bit his lip, earning an exasperated sigh from Roy. “Alright, here’s some samples for you: Why would Anne want to marry me even though she knew I could never desire her for anything more than her friendship? What exactly is mine and Coles relationship? Why was I being such an ass to you if I wasn’t in love with Anne? Take your pick.”

Gilbert swallowed harshly. Every question Roy had stated had swam through his head and he knew he wanted answers to all of them. Roy smirked and patted the deck next to him. “Common Gil, ask me anything.”

The standing man considered this, before he sat down on the porch a little farther than Roy’s hand. “Alright. Well let’s start with the first one. Diana said the engagement was Anne’s idea...”

“It was,” Roy said bluntly. 

“If she knew about...” he carefully considered his words. “About your lack of desire for her, why would she offer to marry you?”

Roy sighed and leaned back on his elbows, staring out to the horizon. “Well it’s like Cole said. She wanted to help protect the two of us. My family, as I’m sure you gathered, aren’t the most accepting folks. Probably would’ve had me arrested if it wouldn’t cause such a scandal for them.” Gilbert knitted his eyebrows together. How could parents do something so cruel to their own son? “Instead, they threatened to disown me. Honestly it wouldn’t be a huge deal, I’m sure I could figure out my way on my own… but I have two sisters and a brother that are my world and I couldn’t bare to lose them.”

Gilbert cocked an eyebrow. “So instead you tried to end your life?”

“Yeah, wasn't my best plan now was it,” Roy said with a chuckle. “Anyway. The day I met Anne, she too was bothered. Turns out she had been having trouble with a publisher and her book.” Anne had written him about that. That letter had been difficult for him to read. It had been smudged in various places from what he had assumed were her tears. He almost hopped on the next steamer out of Paris right then and there. “Anyway, the publisher she went to just so happens to be a friend of my old man. He is a sexist prick if you ask me, much like dear old dad.” Roy dug into his coat pocket, producing a small flask where he unscrewed the top and took a swig before turning his attention back to a shocked Gilbert. “Oh, sorry. It’s an old habit that I can’t seem to break. Cole and Anne have been helping me quit… Been doing a pretty good job but I keep it around for when... well, when this gets bad.” Gilbert looked down at Roy’s hands to see them shaking. “It’s weird, like my heart races and I start shaking. The whisky takes the edge off just enough for me to calm down.” 

Gilbert had read about people who would feel their heart racing and having these attacks that would prevent them from functioning. It was some sort of panic disorder. The texts told him that these people were mentally sick and should be thrown in an institution for treatment. But then in June, he sat in a lecture done by a woman alienist who had been practicing a new form of treatment called talk therapy. It seemed more humane and safer, and it appeared to actually be working in a lot of cases. “Roy, have you talked to anyone about what you’ve been going through? I met with this lecturer ...”

“I’m fine,” he said sternly as he took another large swig. Gilbert decided to not press. “Now back to the topic at hand.'' He tucked the flask back into his shirt and cleared his throat. “Anyway, upon realizing that I have an infatuation with Cole… Anne came up with a proposition. We would marry, appease my family so I wouldn’t be disowned and could still be in my siblings lives. Not to mention she would allow me to meet with Cole whenever I so chose. My only job was that I helped her find a decent publisher that would give her novel a chance. To her, it was the perfect plan.”

“Perfect?” Gilbert scoffed. He couldn’t believe that Anne, the romantical fire sprite that he knew and loved would come up with such a plan. “But… what if she fell in love with someone else? She would be trapped.”

Roy let our a booming laugh. “Yeah Doc, I don’t think that’s possible.” 

Gilbert lifted his eyebrows. “What do you mean? Anne is young, intelligent, wonderful… stunning.” Roy peered sideways as Gilbert looked off dreamily, his mind drifting to Anne’s ethereal beauty. Once he caught the other man staring, he shook his head. “Surely she would find a man to love her and she would love him in return.”

“Wow, are you really that dense?” Roy asked curtly. 

“Excuse me?” Gilbert asked, trying his best to not get offended. 

Roy pinched the bridge of his nose, annoyed. “Let me put this plainly for you: Anne agreed to marry me because she knew she would never fall in love.”

Gilbert lifted his eyebrows. “And how could she possibly know that?”

“Oh my Lord, how did you get into medical school?” Roy groaned and adjusted himself so he was facing Gilbert head on. “Because she is already in love with someone! And he is too much of an idiot to notice it.”

His heart sank. Anne was in love with someone? “She’s in love with someone else?”

Roy grunted, fighting off a scream. “You! She is in love with you, you dense bastard!”

Gilbert felt his lungs tighten.  “Wait… what you’re saying… Anne’s in love with me?”

Roy clapped slowly. “Ladies and gentlemen, he does have a brain! Yes, you moron. Anne is in love with you. Has been for years!” Gilbert couldn’t breathe, his heart started to race and his vision blurred. Anne… loves him? Not just loves but is in love with him? 

“She loves me?” His voice came out no louder than a whisper. “Anne loves me?” He repeated still in disbelief, only this time the words were tasting sweeter. “Anne loves me!” He jumped up from the porch, he couldn’t help it. He felt like he could run to the lake of Shining Waters, perhaps even farther. Anne loves him! He wanted to scream, he wanted to announce to the world that Anne Shirley Cuthbert, the fire goddess herself was in love with him. 

“Took you long enough,” Roy rolled his eyes but a small smile crawled on his lips.

Gilbert beamed. “I have… I have to see her.” He quickly stepped towards the house, not wanting to waste a single moment, when Roy blocked his path. “Do not make me hit you again.”

He held his hands up defensively. “Look, I get it, I do. But if I’m being honest, you look and smell like a horse's rear end.” As much as Gilbert hated to admit it, Roy was right. With how bad Anne’s lungs were, he didn’t want to chance bringing more dirt and dust into her room.  Roy stepped back, plopping back down on the porch step. “Not to mention, you’re still marrying Winifred. Unless you have finally come to your senses on that matter.” Gilbert debated on whether to tell him his decision on that matter, but he was still focused on Anne’s love for him. 

He knew sitting wasn’t an option for him, so instead he paced, five steps, turn, five more steps. He was unsure how many times he repeated that process, but he could feel the annoyance radiate off of Roy, so he decided to try and sit, his leg bouncing madly. Roy rolled his eyes. “Would you calm down? You’re driving me insane.” 

Gilbert pressed his foot firmly against the ground and mumbled out a “sorry” before he blurted out. “You are right, by the way.”

“Uh, okay...” Roy said, unsure of how to respond to the declaration. 

Gilbert looked out to the horizon. “I’m not marrying Winifred. I decided last night… I don’t love her. Not like I have loved Anne. It wouldn’t be fair to her for me to keep her away from someone who could put her first.” 

“Huh. Alright. Uh, congratulations I guess?” Roy mumbled, still confused. 

He continued, not hearing Roy’s words. “I know it’s wrong, I asked her to marry me when I didn’t even understand what love was. And I thought that perhaps since she was helping me follow my dream that I loved her,” he bit his lip, keenly aware now of how much of a fool he had been. “So you’re right, I’m a selfish bastard.”

Roy knitted his eyebrows together. “Is that supposed to be an apology?” 

Gilbert turned to face the man he considered his enemy hours before. “Yeah. I guess it is.” 

Roy nodded slowly, as if to consider it he was going to accept it or not. “Well, then I’m sorry for saying the things I said about Anne. In case you haven’t realized, none of them were true.” Gilbert smirked, he had figured as much. “Anyway, truth is, I wanted to get a rise out of you. Anne shed so many tears over you, I wanted to hurt you worse than you had her. Didn’t expect it to backfire on me.”

They both looked over one another, both fighting smiles before they both let out hearty chuckles. It didn’t feel awkward, in fact it almost felt normal. Like two friends who were sharing a laugh. Gilbert smirked, holding out his hand. “So what do you say, friends?”

Roy sneered. “Hardly. I still think you’re a prick and an idiot.” Gilbert tried to not feel offended as his hand fell, only for Roy to grab it firmly. “But I will say truce. At least until you decide to be an idiot again and hurt Anne.” 

Gilbert smiled, he had no intention of making that mistake again. “Truce.” They shook, neithers grip too tight this time, a true handshake between comrades. “So, what does this mean for your engagement then?”

Roy looked back out to the horizon and dropped Gilbert’s hand. “I’ll break it off, it was selfish of me to accept the proposition in the first place.”

“What about your family?”

Roy shrugged. “I’ll tell them the truth, that I cannot marry a woman I don’t love. My siblings will hopefully understand but my parents will probably write me off, blacklist me.” He licked his lips, his eyes saddening. “But Anne will be free and for the first time, I will be too. I will be surrounded by friends and my love.”

Gilbert swallowed, nervous to ask the following question. “So you and Cole are a couple?” Roy nodded hesitantly, his body language changed and became more defensive. “So that makes you...” his voice trailed off. He was unsure of the correct term to use.

Roy chuckled coldly. “Homosexual. A fairy. A pounce. Take your pick. I’ve been called it all.” He looked away, almost as if he were ashamed of who he was. “And I know I disgust you for it too.”

“That’s not true. You nor Cole disgust me in the least,” Gilbert said sternly. Roy looked up in surprise. “Cole has been my friend since we were children. My views of him won’t change based off of whom he loves. And even though I’m not your biggest fan, Anne and Cole are apart of both of our families, so that makes you and I family in our own strange way.”

Gilbert couldn’t imagine what Roy must’ve thought he would say, but from the tears forming in his lids, he could tell it wasn’t that. “Thank you...”

“Gilbert! Gilbert!” Diana screamed from inside the house. He shot to his feet and threw open the door, ready to fly up the stairs when Diana knocked into him.

“Di, what’s wrong?!” he yelled as he caught her. 

“Anne’s turning blue! Her lips, they’re...” Gilbert didn’t let Diana finish when he pushed past her and sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He ran down the hallway and through Anne’s door, eyes catching Cole cowering in the corner. Gilbert looked to the bed where Anne’s breathing was shallow and quick, her face whiter than cotton. Except for her lips, which were normally red as a rose in bloom, now had begun to take a blue hue. She reached for him weakly, gasping.

“Hey, Anne, it’s okay, I’m here. I’m here.” Gilbert grabbed her hand as she tried to catch her breath. Fear filled her eyes as she squeezed his hand, breaking through the freshly forming skin and letting blood drip down his hands. He needed to calm her and steady her breathing. “Anne, I need you to try and breathe in through your nose, okay? Through your nose.” It was too late now, she was panicking. He sat down on the bed next to her, trying his best to remain calm.

Roy and Diana barreled through the door, Marilla following close. She pushed past the two young adults, running to the other side. “Gilbert, what do we do?” She asked, her voice rising as she held on tightly to Anne’s arm.

Gilbert’s mind swirled, a million thoughts running through it at once. What do I do? What do I do? Medicine. What medicine? Is there any? Why can’t I think of what to do?

“Tell us what to do,” Diana asked with a shaky voice as Roy went to Cole, taking him in his arms.  Think Gilbert. Think. Gilbert tried to tune out the commotion around him, but all he could feel was everyone screaming and crying for him to fix this. His hand was throbbing from Anne’s iron grip. 

“Dammit Gil, tell us what to do!” Roy shouted as he squeezed a praying Cole tighter.

“Come on Anne,” He yelled, trying to do his breathing just as he was instructing. Through his nose, out his mouth. She looked like she was trying to understand and follow, but he could tell the pain it caused her was close to unbearable. Why couldn’t he think of what to do? This is what he was trained for.  

“Gilbert!” Diana screamed. Shut up, shut up. Everyone shut up! He looked at Anne, who had tears rolling down her cheeks. She was so afraid. Diana and Marilla were afraid. Cole and Roy were afraid. Gilbert was petrified. 

He shook his head, feeling his heart pick up the pace. He didn’t know what to do. Tears began streaming down his own cheeks as he reached forward for Anne’s face, hoping his touch would heal her. But he knew it wouldn’t. Her infection was spreading, her lungs were filling with puss, and she was in excruciating pain. And his mind was blank. 

His fingers gingerly touched her chin, wiping a tear that was sliding down. “Carrots…” 

Images flashed through his mind as she stared at him through water filled eyes. Her whacking a slate across his face the first time he called her by her dreaded nickname, dancing with her in the middle of the schoolhouse, him running to her front door when the Queens results came in, planting flowers and helping her cope, their hundreds of walks through his orchard. All of those memories and he was unsure if they were ever going to be able to make any more. 

Anne leaned into his hand as if she could read his thoughts. Her breathing was quickening, her body fighting to take in oxygen. Tears dripped from her fluttering eyes, she was going to pass out. Gilbert felt a sob rising in his throat, he felt so helpless. Anne’s grip loosened on his hand as she sucking in a large breath, still trying to match her breathing to his, when something caught his eye. 

Garland hanging between her bedposts. Flowers, seashells, feathers all uniquely tied to a string. But none of those things were important. What caught his eye was the sprig of pine needles on the far left hand side. “The earth provides...” he whispered. He shot up, still holding tightly to Anne’s hand. 

“What on earth?” Marilla panicked. 

Gilbert leaned forward and without the previous nights hesitation, he pressed his lips to Anne’s forehead before pulling back with the largest grin. “Carrots, listen to me. I need to go for a bit.” She shook her head, pulling his closer. He leaned his forehead against hers. “I will be back, I promise. Until then, I need you to fight as hard as you can. Try to keep your breathing steady. You can do that for me, right?”  Her eyes were filled with fear but she nodded. “Good, I won’t be long. We have much to talk about when I get back.” He smiled gently, brushing a stray curl from her face. He focused on Marilla. “Stay with her, talk her through the breathing.” Marilla nodded slowly, she was confused but he didn’t have time to explain. 

He pointed to the group of Anne’s friends in the corner. “You three, come with me.” Gilbert ran through the door, dragging along Diana, Cole, and Roy. “Cole, I need you to cover all the openings in Anne’s room: under the closet, doors, window, wherever you think air could escape. Get blankets, towels, even stuff clothes in there if you need too.” Gilbert commanded as they began descending the stairs.

“Uh, okay.” Cole said. Gilbert didn’t stop, crossing the kitchen to grab his coat from by the door. Mrs Lynde stood from her place by the fire, looking at the group curiously.

“What’s happening?” She asked, receiving a shoulder shrug from Diana.

Gilbert pulled his coat on, ignoring Mrs Lynde and turned to Diana. “Diana, I need you to stoke the fire, make it as hot as you can get it and boil water. When the water is boiling, Roy needs to bring it up to Anne’s room and make sure she is breathing it in. She needs steam.”

Diana beamed. “Of course! Steam!” 

“Steam?” Roy inquired. 

“Moisture helps clear the lungs. We used it to help Minnie May when she had the croup years ago.” Diana answered as Gilbert grabbed his cap and an old flour sack from by the door.

“I am furious with myself that I didn’t think of it before!” He opened the door, halfway stepping out the door.

“Where are you going?” Roy questioned. 

Gilbert grinned so wide they all probably thought he had lost his marbles. “The earth provides!” He ran through the door, only popping his head back in for a moment to yell one final command. “Steam! Constantly!” Down the yard he went, sprinting towards the barn as he screamed for Jerry. “Jerry! Jerry! Saddle Butterscotch! Saddle Butterscotch!” 

Jerry peaked his head out the barn. “Gilbert! What is going on?”

Gilbert felt like laughing, he was so excited. “I know how to help Anne!”