#and while i also like to think wayhaven is much more progressive than most small towns are

[bosspigeon]

maybe they’ll leave you alone, but not me

Pairing: Gen, with Tina Poname & Male Detective Friendship Word Count: 2187 Summary: Tina Poname’s the new kid in a sleepy little town in the middle of nowhere, and is learning the hard way that making new friends in a place like Wayhaven is easier said than done. Luckily, she’s got a can-do attitude and a forceful personality to help her befriend even the surliest of loners.

I just think Tina’s such a good character, and I loved trying to write from her point of view, and I love thinking about her friendship with the Detective. Especially with my boy, Arlo. I also read a bunch of articles trying to put together his infodump on the Satanic Panic fhdasjhgjskahg. Title, of course, taken from “Teenagers” by My Chemical Romance. (I like to think I’m Funny)

Tina takes her lunch in the courtyard.

It’s overcast outside, looking like it might rain later, but the courtyard is nice enough, landscaped with flowering plants and rustic stone pathways, though it is kind of small. She’d rather sit inside, just in case it does start pouring, but every table in the cafeteria was full, and the ones that weren’t very quickly became full when she walked past with her lunch bag. She’s learned quickly that small towns like Wayhaven tend to be pretty… insular.

She’s trying not to let it get her down. She’s the new kid, and with time other students will warm up to her, but for now she feels like she’s the ugly duckling set adrift in a little pond, and all the other ducklings think she has the plague or something. The metaphor gets away from her a bit, but her head’s been a bit of a jumble since the last move. But that’s leading towards things she’d rather not think about, so she doesn’t. Simple as that.

Instead she looks around her, taking in the very pretty little courtyard, even if it’s washed in the moody tones of the grey sky overhead, made more moody still by the shade of a tall, gnarled old ash tree in the center. There are a few wooden picnic tables scattered about, all of them empty.

All of them but one.

Tina almost doesn’t see him at first. He’s hunched over at a table directly under the ash tree, his back to her. His long black hair hangs almost to the bottom of his shoulder blades in loose waves, and all she can think is that he’s never seen a boy with hair so pretty before. Every time she sees a boy with long hair, it’s always a frizzy mess, and whenever she brings up that they really shouldn’t use all-in-one shampoo, they get all annoyed with her.

She makes the decision to flounce right over, rounds the table, and wiggles into the bench across from him. “Your hair’s so pretty!” she chirps by way of greeting, unzipping her lunch bag and beaming at him. He looks up at her, and she’s a bit stricken when she sees his face properly. His dark brows are bold slashes scrunching over pale grey eyes lined in smeary black makeup that streaks down his freckled cheeks. He’s got a square jaw and a strong nose, but he still leans more into pretty territory than handsome, and she’s beginning to figure out that the uniform guidelines in the student handbook are taken as more suggestions than law, given that his lip, nose, and ears are pierced.

He doesn’t respond, squinting at her, his mouth twisting into a frown.

“I’m Tina!” she offers cheerily. “I like your makeup!”

He frowns harder, almost snarling, with a bit of teeth showing, like he’s hoping to scare her away. Well, Tina Poname isn’t so easy to scare, and she’s determined not to spend lunch alone. She just smiles right back and starts rooting through her lunch bag, pulling out the neatly packed containers of healthy fruit and veggies and hard boiled eggs to find the yogurt-covered pretzels hidden at the bottom. She crunches on one while she eyes her new tablemate, who seems to have resigned himself to her delightful company and has turned his attention back to a notebook he’s doodling in while absently eating something she thinks is a kind of pretty little spring roll. It looks really good, and she’s a bit jealous.

He staunchly ignores her eyes on him, shifting a bit and tossing the hair hanging in his face over one shoulder, so she can properly see the black enamel inverted cross dangling from his ear. Without thinking, she leans across the table and flicks it.

He flinches away from her and glowers with such ire she’s surprised her clothes aren’t smouldering. She smiles sheepishly, but brushes off the surprise and barrels on. “I can’t imagine you’re too popular wearing those in a quiet little town like this,” she chimes in a teasing sing-song. “Wonder how many old die-hard religious types burst into flames at the sight of you?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes so hard it gives Tina a headache. But she’s also more than a little pleased she’s gotten a reaction out of him.

She leans into it, figuring she’s found her in. “So, are you a Satanist or what? It’s cool if you are! Just think it must be hell in this place.” She can’t help but cackle at her own joke, slapping the tabletop and wheezing. When she recovers enough to notice, she catches him eyeballing her like he can’t quite figure out exactly what’s wrong with her. It’s a look she knows pretty well at this point.

“I’m not an anything,” he sighs, tapping his fingers on the wooden tabletop. His nails are painted black, but they’re chipping at the tips, and he’s wearing a few really cool rings, a couple of which looks like they might be antiques. “Besides that, the whole inverted cross being a symbol of Satanism is bullshit.” His voice is pretty deep, but not nearly as deep as she expected it to be, and softer besides, with a light, lilting burr to it. Regardless, Tina’s delighted to have gotten anything more than grunts and glares from him at all. She leans forward, crunching another pretzel. “Wait, really? What’s it mean, then?”

“It’s the cross of Saint Peter,” he almost bursts out, and then pinches his lips shut, like even he’s surprised he said anything. He looks at her warily, but she just waves at him to go on. He hesitates for another moment, before he continues haltingly, “When Peter the Apostle was supposedly executed under Nero, he’s said to have requested he be crucified upside-down, because he felt he wasn’t worthy to die the way Jesus did.” His broad, tight shoulders are loosening bit by bit the more he talks. “It’s a symbol of humility. It’s even used in the design for the papal cross, because the Pope is supposed to be the successor of Peter. And because of its mistaken associations with Satanism, now people like to claim the Pope is the antichrist.”

He rolls his eyes again and picks up another spring roll, gesturing at her with it before taking a bite and continuing while he chews. “I’m not sure exactly when people decided turning the cross upside-down suddenly makes it evil, but it can probably be traced back to the whole Satanic Panic debacle that kicked up in the 70s through the 90s. Anton LaVey—fuck that guy, by the way—published The Satanic Bible in ‘69, but most of it was pretty much plagiarized from a lot of other authors who philosophized about self-actualization and whatnot, including Ayn Rand—fuck her too—and then The Exorcist movie came out, and those things combined with the whole Manson cult thing earlier in the 60s and kicked off this sort of pop culture fascination with the occult and macabre. A lot of metal bands and other counter-culture music artists started using them in album art along with other bastardized religious imagery, and it turned into a whole thing with religious pearl-clutchers.”

Tina is astounded. Not just by the subject of the conversation (which is really cool, in kind of a weird way?) but with the way the boy  turns into a completely different person in the blink of an eye. Just a few minutes ago, he was all dour and moody and mean, looking as if he was a second away from biting her head off, and in the space of a few seconds, he’s morphed into someone totally different. His eyes are brighter and more expressive, he’s talking with his hands, and even the kind of monotone voice she’d heard from him before has changed. “Wow,” she says with no small amount of awe.

He seems to regain himself when she speaks, as if he’d forgotten he was talking to another person entirely. She watches him shrink, hunching his shoulders and looking down at the table, scooping up his pen and viciously scribbling a little spiral into the top corner of his notebook.

“No, seriously!” she blurts, standing up and bracing both hands on the table so she can lean into his space. “That’s really cool! How do you know all that?”

He gives her that same wary, hunted look from earlier, and she can’t help but pout. She wants to see what she saw just a second ago, when he looked like he was excited to talk about something. “Just stuff I picked up a while ago, and thought it was cool, I guess.” He shrugs and looks away, tugging at the spiked chain around his neck partially hidden under the crooked collar of his uniform shirt. “There’s this bookstore a couple towns over that kind of specializes in this stuff.” He lifts his hands and wiggles his fingers, mouth cocking in a wry almost-smile. “Plus, there’s always the magic of the internet.”

She laughs brightly, and it takes every ounce of her meager self-restraint not to reach out and try to physically drag that other boy out of him. “Oh, that sounds fun! We should go together sometime!”

He blinks at her, like she’s hit him over the head with her lunch bag. “Wh… what?”

She leans forward harder, until she’s essentially standing on her tip-toes and bouncing. “We should hang out! I’m sure if I ask really nice, my stepmom will drive us out there. It’ll be great!”

He keeps staring at her. She bounces a bit faster, hoping he doesn’t notice the pimple she couldn’t quite cover with foundation before she had to leave this morning. And if he does, she hopes he doesn’t say anything about it, because she doesn’t think trying to fight him will ingratiate her to him overmuch.

“I’ll buy lunch and everything,” she wheedles.

“I…” He looks away, eyebrows all scrunched again, but she can see him wavering. She wants to punch the air. Never doubt Tina Poname! “I guess? But why?”

Her smile falls a little at the genuine confusion in his voice, the way he’s not looking at her anymore, even to glare, the way he’s twisting one of his rings around his finger and almost hiding behind his thick, dark hair. She tilts her head and blinks at him. “Because I think you’re cool? Besides that, this town is kinda weird about new people? And you’re the only person who didn’t put a bag or book on every available seat when I walked by.”

“Mostly because I didn’t see you coming,” he mutters under his breath, and she barks out a laugh.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve ambushed potential friends,” she giggles. “Hasn’t failed me yet. Except when it has, but I don’t count those.”

He finally looks at her again, still kind of hidden behind a curtain of hair, but she thinks he’s actually smiling at her. He starts to open his mouth to say something, but flinches instead when the shrill ring of the bell indicating the end of lunch interrupts him. He swears under his breath and starts to gather up his things, and Tina starts shoveling pretzels into her mouth while pushing her untouched plastic containers back into her bag. She’s going to regret eating nothing but pretzels later, but at least they’re more filling than melon or carrot sticks.

“Hey wait!” she exclaims through a mouthful of pretzels as he begins to stand, almost tripping over the bench to block him in before he can leave. She’s staggered, suddenly, when he rises up to his full height and she’s looking very up at him. She’s been taller than most boys all her life, so this is a bit bizarre. He looks down at her with his brows raised, tucking his notebook into a satchel covered in patches and pins. “Wow, you’re tall,” she says astutely, swallowing her pretzels.

“Uh… yeah, I am,” he responds.

She shakes off her shock and backs up enough to let him out of his side of the table, but she blocks his path to the door still. Though she’s not sure she could stop him from going anywhere if he really wanted to get past her, with those long legs of his. “I forgot to ask! What’s your name?”

He hesitates again before he quietly says, “Arlo.”

She shoves a hand out at him, “Tina Poname, at your service!”

He grants her a shake with his big, ring-laden hand, obviously bemused, but he’s doing that maybe-smile again, so she thinks she’s done pretty well here. “Yeah. Nice to meet you.” He turns and walks a few long steps away, then pauses and turns back towards her, waiting for her scamper to his side.

“Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,” she says a little breathlessly, swinging her bag and turning to him with a sly little smile “since you’re the local here, what teachers will let me get away with eating in class?”

[not-sewell]

i'd had this idea floating in bits and pieces in my mind for weeks now and i've now been able to string it together with some semblance of coherence, so here we go:

[i don't even know what this is classified as but it comes under soft hours, i guess?]

Foiled Date Plans Leading to Time Spent Better.

i imagine that the LI and the detective haven’t been able to hang out, go on a date, for ages because neither of them could find the time for it, both of them being swamped with work. so when the opportunity presented itself, they jumped at it.

only for things to swiftly go downhill at different times on the day of their date

N and the detective found that they both were to get off their duties early one day and quickly made their plans for a nice, evening together. the detective chooses to go big this time: booking a reservation at a fancy restaurant, where they could enjoy good food, sip on some wine and listen to some smooth music. yeah, that’d do. it's all pretty smooth-sailing until their plans are foiled by a pile of unfinished paperwork that they had promised to help Tina get through. as much as they would rather be someplace else, they decide to help. they’re pretty committed to fulfilling their promise. not that they can deny Tina when she’s making those puppy eyes at them anyway. making a quick call to N to let them know what’s up (and promising to be there on time), the detective gets to the paperwork. it is only when N appears at their door that they realise how late it actually is. well, shit. there is no way they'd be able to make it to the restaurant on time. they should've quit while they were ahead. but they didn't, and they may have just ruined their date plans and this day just sucks. and it's all their fault. N finds a way to fix this before the detective spirals further into whatever headspace they were getting into, though. soon, the couple is at the detective's home, cooking a homely (yet fancy, of course) meal, N pulling the detective by their hand to sway to a light melody of jazz music playing in the background, wrapped in each other's arms – whispering sweet nothings, singing softly. well, okay, maybe the day doesn't suck as much anymore.

F is all too excited to finally get to go out with the detective. the detective had a day off, so they thought of showing F around the town: the places that the detective had discovered over the years, places that one wouldn’t necessarily include in their ‘Places to Visit in Wayhaven’ list. it seemed like a cheery day – maybe they could rent bicycles and go biking around town. this was a good idea. it felt nice to be biking again – it had been a while since they’d done it. the wind gently making its way through their hair brought a soft smile to the detective’s face. but it was only a few minutes before F decided they could ride faster, and the detective followed, the Wayhaven tour long abandoned. the wind in their hair getting progressively less gentle seemed to have an effect on the detective. F’s whooping also helped, maybe. soon, the two are speeding past people, laughing, low-key trash-talking each other and— this was not a good idea. the first thing the detective registers is the nearly blinding pain in their arm and F’s extremely concerned eyes staring down at them. any movement that shifts their position sends a searing pain up and down their forearm. well, fuck. soon, they’re at the doctor’s clinic, having received medical attention. F is uncharacteristically quiet, throwing worried glances their way. it obviously takes a lot of reassurance from the detective to quell F’s worries. then a long pause. and then laughter – belly laughter that only seems to get louder. the walk back home is now far lighter and less painful than it would’ve been. F offers to stay the night, of course. what follows is a day full of F fussing over the detective’s condition, and lots of ice-cream, popcorn and trashy Netflix movies. sure, the injury part sucked but it mattered far lesser.

M has probably rolled their eyes for the hundredth time now. the detective refuses to accept that they've fallen sick. it doesn't take M their hypersenses to recognise what is beginning to sound like the start of rales in the detective's breath. it's ridiculous, the way the detective refuses to acknowledge that they're unwell, especially with the amount of effort they've been putting to even sit upright. it takes a big coughing fit from the detective for M to put their foot down and take them back to the detective’s bedroom. yeah, no, M doesn't give a shit about the date anymore. they'd like the detective to be very much alive, instead, thank you very much. glaring the detective to bed, they run their hand more fondly than they expected over the detective’s head before making their way to the kitchen and call F to relay some solid, 'how to care for a sick partner' advice from N: hot and cold compresses, some VapoRub, soup and maybe a warm glass of milk with turmeric in it and lots of care (which they would take care of by snuggling with the detective, should they ask). the detective wakes up early next morning to find M asleep on the bed – seated next to the detective, having leaned their back on the headrest – their hand in the general area of where the detective’s head is. the detective had never really pinned M down as someone who could be so tender but hell, no one’s complaining.

A admits: they were really looking forward to the date. they didn’t know what the detective had planned – they wouldn’t tell them (maybe it involved wine-tasting?) – but it would’ve been nice to finally get to spend some time with the detective. anyway, that doesn’t matter right now, does it? they were here on a stakeout in a hilly area with probably the worst partner ever: the detective. it’s got nothing to do with the detective’s skills or attitude – they’re more skilled and dutiful than most. it’s the effect their presence has on A: their focus on the scene before them is off-kilter and they’re certainly not thinking about their mission as much as they would like to. they chide themself for being so distracted. they really need to learn to maintain their focus regardless of the company they have (just the detective but okay). gah, they need to pull themself together. even as they chide themself, they find their gaze drifting towards the detective. again. this time, they find the detective’s eyes on them too. this has been going on for a while and they both know it needs to stop. and yet, they just cannot seem to. at least the evening’s been very uneventful. it’s close to dawn when N and M join them to take over. the couple is on their way back to the Warehouse when the detective gasps softly, the way they do when they think they've got a great idea (which is usually true, but they don't necessarily need to know that). they turn to A with a bright smile. "i know of a spot," they say, "come with me!" as they pull A by their hand. they're right on time to catch the most beautiful sunrise A has seen in a long, long time. and the detective turns to look at A just in time to see the softest, most carefree smile grace A's beautiful face. they're almost too lost in their thoughts to catch A whisper a small 'thank you', interlacing their little fingers together. the day is instantly brighter.

[veryberrybrenda]

Thrill

Pairing: Adam x Lucia Langford

Summary: Unit Bravo go undercover at a gala to arrest a changeling, but things take a complicated turn. 

Notes: This is day 4 of Wayhaven Week 2020 by @otomefandomevents

The drive to the gala was filled with Felix’s excited chatter about feeling like he was in a James Bond movie. Lucia couldn’t help but wholeheartedly agree with the feeling herself. Not knowing what will happen next left a thrill in her system that she just couldn’t get anywhere else. However, the mission wasn’t the only source of thrill she felt.

She couldn’t help but notice Adam stealing glances at her from the passenger seat. His eyes would linger a little too long on the slit in her lavender dress, the bare skin of her toned legs making a slight flush appear on his pale cheeks that he tried so hard to hide by staring a thousand yards ahead at the window.

The action only intensified Felix’s amusement. “See something you like there, Adam?” Even in the dim light of the night sky, Felix’s amber eyes seemed to glow in the rear view mirror.

“What I would like is for this mission to go as according to plan,” Adam replied dryly, no emotion in his voice as he dodged the question.

“You didn’t answer his question, Adam,” Lucia added, feeling the full effect of his green-eyed glare. It only served to make her smile wider at the leader’s attempt to regain his composure.

“Fine, you look nice today,” Adam mumbled quietly, words rushed as though he didn’t want her to understand them.

The compliment had her loosening her grip on the steering wheel as she soaked in this rare moment, grin even wider than before. “You’re looking handsome as always.”

Adam whipped his head back to the window so fast that if he wasn’t a vampire, he would’ve broken his neck. She could also hear the sound of Felix trying his best to suppress a chuckle.

After a few minutes, they arrived at their destination. The hotel bustled with guests dressed in the finest clothes entering the hotel for the annual charity banquet. She found an empty parking spot near the side of the lot.

As she killed the engine, Adam tapped on is mic, “We’ve arrived. Is everyone in position?”

“Roger, roger.” The sound came out as clear as day from the small mic in her ear, but it also echoed in the car as she saw Felix giggling at his act of mischief, which had Adam rolling his eyes.

“Focus,” Rebecca snapped, tone reprimanding.  

“Mason and I are in position,” Nate replied through the mic.

“Good, now remember the plan. Nate and Mason will be covering the ballroom making sure that the changelings aren’t posing as guests, while Felix searches the staff, and Adam and Lucia will be checking the rooms. Once you have visual on the targets, don’t let them out of your sight,” Rebecca said sternly. “Immediately call for backup and try your best to prevent guests from seeing anything. Is everyone clear?”

A multitude of responses follow, all signaling that they’re ready. “I’ll be outside in the car monitoring the progress. Now go.” Her mother’s voice ringed of confidence that she hopes isn’t misplaced.

With that, they all exited the car, the warm, humid air settling against Lucia’s tan skin. She smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress that accumulated during the ride. Her heart sped up when she felt a pair of green eyes tracking her every movement, observing her with a soft expression, lips parted in unsaid words, but it was now her turn to drink the sight of him in.

His dark blue suit was a nice change of color from his usual grey tee and she approved of the way his suit was expertly tailored to the contours of his muscles. Unlike Felix with a black suit and a purple bowtie, Adam sported no such accessory, instead preferring to leave a few buttons undone at the top, exposing the slightest hint of his chest that her fingers ached to touch.

Nate must’ve helped him get ready because no way does that man have enough style sense to leave his buttons like that.

Their gawking observing of each other ended when Felix grabbed both of their hands, excitement making his steps faster as he dragged them towards the bright hotel.

-    

Lucia was almost disappointed that she was away from all the action of the ballroom. She had secretly hoped that Adam would’ve offered her a dance, but she doubted if he was able to dance at all with him being so stiff.

“How many more floors do we have to go through?” She whined, her foot already in pain from her silver heels.

“Just three more.”

She stopped walking and leaned against the wall, causing a concerned look from Adam as he turned back to face her. “Can you give me a second? My feet hurt.”

Adam’s eyes hardened once again, and he released a scoff, “You should’ve worn more appropriate shoes then.”

“That wouldn’t match with my dress,” Lucia countered while taking off her heels.

Disdain flashed on his face. “You are so careless. This mission could be in stake because you decided that some shoes were more important than a mission.” He didn’t hold back on the mocking tone as he continued to stare her down as if she was a child.

Anger was starting to boil inside of Lucia as she marched with her bare feet towards the leader, heels in one hand and the other tightly clenching her clutch. “You out of all people should know that I will sacrifice anything for a mission,” she said with a low, threatening tone that had Adam flinching, a look of pain flashing on his face at the painful memory.

Lucia immediately regret saying those words. The images of Adam lying limply in her arms with burn marks covering his body filled her mind. She had followed his orders, but every ounce of her regretted the choice.

“I’m sorry, Adam.” Shame filled her black eyes as she took in his coiled muscles that would have broken a piece of furniture by now. “I didn’t mean-.”

“No,” he interrupted her, face morphing back to his stoic mask. “You’re right. You follow orders and that’s all I require of you.” Adam said the words with such cold that had Lucia flinching, heart aching in her chest.

As Adam was about to turn away, his eyes suddenly widen, nose sniffing the air. Lucia quickly strapped her heels back on as she followed the vampire to the door at the end of the hall. His eyes are closed in concentration as he stands in front of the metal door. “I count two voices in there,” he whispered, careful to not to alert the changelings.

She nods, both of them putting a little distance from the room as she taps on the mic in her ear. “We found two inside room 135. Sixth floor.”

“Good work. Do not engage until the others arrive. Is that understood, Lucia?”

Lucia didn’t appreciate how her mom aimed that statement directly at her. “Yes ma’am,” she said with a sigh.

“Be careful.” Rebecca meant for it to sound like a command, but it came out softer than she expected.

“I will, Mom,” Lucia replied.

With that, her mic went quiet. She took a deep breath, calming her nerves. “So, what do we do now?” Her eyes on the team leader.

“We make sure they don’t leave,” he says, eyes still on the door.

“Okie-dokie artichokie.”

Adam’s lips formed into a small smile that was gone in an instant, making Lucia debate if it was even there in the first place.

The door to the room suddenly opened and Adam instantly took his place in front of her, shielding her from danger. Two men emerged staring at them with confusion. One man had light brown hair and tan skin, wearing a brown suit with a black tie, while the other man had black hair and pale skin, wearing a grey suit with a matching black tie.

If Lucia acts now, they may still have the upper hand since their cover hasn’t been blown yet. She stepped out from behind Adam, which was received with a glare from him, but she ignored it, plastering on the most charming smile she could muster. “Oh, hi there, my boyfriend and I.” She wrapped an arm around Adam’s waist, muscles tense under her touch. “Are just wondering what’s the best club to go to after this amazing party.” She placed her right hand on her hip, just above the slit in her dress, where her stun gun was conveniently hidden in her thigh holster. She only hoped that her nervousness hadn’t slipped that much into her voice.

The black-haired man narrowed his eyes at her, and she could hear her heart hammering inside her chest. “Have I seen you somewhere before? You look very familiar.”

“I’ve been told I have the type of face that looks like a lot of people. Maybe you’re confusing me with someone else with lavender hair.” This time, Lucia couldn’t control her nerves anymore and her voice came out too high-pitched to sound natural.

The brown-haired man’s eyes widen, and Lucia knew she was fucked. “You’re the agent with the special blood!”

She pulled out her stun gun as Adam charged at the brown-haired man. Upon seeing his companion struggling, the black-haired man decided it was best to flee while he still can and rushed past Lucia, dodging all of her shots.

Without thinking, she raced down the hall to catch up with the man, heels slowing her down, silently praying that her gun would recharge faster. Lucia rejoiced when she heard the familiar beep of her gun, signaling it was ready for action.

I got you now.

She fired all her shots and the man dropped like a stone to the ground right as he was about to reach the stairs. Satisfied with her work, she went back to check on her teammate.

Upon arriving, confusion took hold of her mind as she stared at two Adams fighting each other. Their limbs were so entangled that if she fired, she might risk hitting the real Adam.

One looked up at her, relief in his eyes. “Shoot him, he’s the real changeling!” A punch from the other Adam sends him tumbling into the wall, leaving a nasty dent.

“He’s lying. He’s the fake one!” the other Adam hissed, dodging a kick.

If Lucia shoots the real Adam, then the changeling would escape. There was a fifty-fifty chance she would get it right.

Another idea popped into her head. If I shoot them both, no one escapes, and I can wait for the others to arrive to figure out which one is the real Adam.

She steadies her breathing and raises her gun. I’m so sorry Adam.

She fires.

-

Adam’s eyes open to a white ceiling. Twisting his head, familiar grey walls signal that he’s in his room. Looking down at himself, he sees that he’s still wearing his blue suit with the addition of a few scuff marks.

“You’re finally awake.” Standing in the doorway is the Detective, feet bare, still in her dress that accentuated her curves and looking effortlessly beautiful. “I know that a stun gun can’t actually hurt you, but it still worried me.” A nervous laugh escapes her mouth as she makes her way over to him. Adam’s body instinctively sits up to make room for her on his bed.

She plops down on the bed, hands running through her curls as she gazes at him, eyes full of guilt. “I’m sorry I shot you. It was the only way to make sure the changeling didn’t escape.”

His lips thinned into a frown as he took in her words. How could she be sad when she did what any competent agent would do? She put the mission first. Something that he has trouble doing now ever since she entered his life.

Without him even realizing what he was doing, his hand reached out to take hers. A smile formed on her lips at the touch that had Adam’s heart skipping a few beats. “You did what was necessary for the mission and I couldn’t be more proud,” Adam confessed, truth backing every word. “We did catch both of them, right?” A little worry in his words as his shoulder tensed.

A giggle escaped from her lips. “Of course. They’re both being interrogated in the facility right now.”

“Good.” Adam didn’t know if it was the thrill of a successful mission or the sound of Lucia’s laugh, but his heart felt lighter than it usually did.

[rhetoricalrogue]

Wayhaven Week: Day 4

For the @otomefandomevents Wayhaven Week 2020.

Prompt: Tranquil Pairing: Adam du Mortain/Aubrey Miller Warnings: none Word Count: 2,786 Summary: Sometimes facing fears means tying on pointe shoes. Note: I’ve been listening to this playlist practically nonstop while writing this. I also have zero knowledge of dance, so this is mostly me doing the Internet Researcher mode and I apologize for any term I may have gotten wrong.

“This is so stupid,” Aubrey hissed, looking at her reflection in the full length mirror that spanned from one side of the wall to the other.  Bright afternoon sun filtered in through the windows overhead and the playlist of piano music, while a bit tinny through her phone’s speaker, was a tune she was used to.

Aubrey knew for a fact that the majority of Unit Bravo was out of the Warehouse, Morgan being the only one who gave her a brief greeting as she came through. She hadn’t really looked at the bag Aubrey had slung over her shoulder aside from a short curious glance. Even so, it was enough to make it feel like Aubrey had stored a ton of bricks inside instead of the few lightweight items she knew were in there.

She was grateful it was only Morgan hanging around. While she loved the enthusiasm that Farah had for most things, especially bits of her personal past, Aubrey didn’t think she could handle a barrage of questions right now.  She was also grateful that all Morgan did was give her a lazy head to toe look-see when she bumped into her again in the hallway leading from her room and the training room. The tiny half-smile at the short, fluttery skirt and pastel blue knit wrap top Aubrey wore over a grey tank top and black leggings and the brief have fun in there told Aubrey that she wouldn’t be disturbed as she did...whatever she thought she was going to do.

“Come on, Aubs,” she grumbled, sitting on the floor and digging through her bag. Without looking, she found the roll of tape and even though it had been years, taped up her toes as easily as if her last practice was the other day instead of over four years ago. After putting on a pair of lambswool toe pads, her pointe shoes went on just as easily and she exhaled, going into a series of warm up stretches she still did every morning to keep herself limber.

It wasn’t until she was back on her feet and facing the barre that she faltered again. Her eyes went to her phone and she had a brief thought to call up her former dance partner for a pep talk, but then talked herself out of it when she realized that Tony would still be in practice for the production he was gearing up to perform. “This doesn’t have to be scary.” Her hands trembled on the barre. She frowned and pulled her shoulders back, glaring at her reflection as she balled her hands into fists to stop them from shaking. “This shouldn’t be scary. No expectations, just do some basic steps. You can do a beginner class, you’ve taught students half your age how to do the same things before. Now stop overthinking and show me what you’ve got.”

Taking one last deep breath, Aubrey rolled up onto her toes, pushed over her toe box for a good stretch, rolled down through demi pointe, and laughed.

--

Adam walked through the Warehouse and tried not to feel aggravated at the sight of the detective’s car parked outside.  Aggravated wasn’t quite the right word for how he was feeling, but he didn’t know how else to describe the way he felt out of sorts that she hadn’t called him to let him know that she was planning on dropping in on her day off. If she had, he would have…

I would have done what? he thought, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring as he sank into an easy chair in the living room. There had been something between them only a few days ago and he flexed his hand. If he focused enough on the memory of watching fireworks at the carnival, he could all but feel her hand still in his.

“That’s an awful grouchy look for someone who knows Aubs is home,” Morgan told him, perching her hip on the windowsill before she slid the window open enough to let a breeze in.

“She isn’t home,” he countered. “She’s somewhere here.”

Morgan scoffed and tapped out a cigarette. “Okay, sure.” Sparking up, she exhaled a plume of smoke. “To save you time, she’s in the training room. Said something about wanting to get some practice in.”

That got his attention. “By herself? You know she’s not the best at combat, you could have offered to help.”

She shrugged. “Didn’t think she needed my help.” Smoke seeped from her lips as she turned towards the open window. Nate would be pissed if she smoked up the living room too much.  “Why don’t you go check in on her progress?”

Morgan didn’t have to look to know that Adam had already left. Shaking her head, she smirked and took another drag.

Adam hadn’t even gotten a few feet away from the training room’s doors when the sound of music hit him, the pop song familiar from Farah constantly blaring the tune from her bedroom at volumes loud enough to make the windows vibrate. Yet instead of being irritating, this version was both softened by being played on the piano and at a volume low enough that it was more than likely only barely audible to human hearing. His steps faltered as he listened to the rapid beating of Aubrey’s heart and the occasional hard slap of feet against the floor. Curiosity got the better of him and he quietly made his way to the door, opening it but not entering. Part of his reasoning was that he wanted to see how long it would take for the detective to be aware of his presence, but the other was because he wanted to observe her progress without her going tense or stopping only because she thought he was judging her progress and finding it lacking. She had the basics of combat covered due to her police training that he found satisfactory, but there was always a fear clawing at his gut that her training wouldn’t be enough to help her while facing more supernatural foes.

It was something that they were both going to have to work on, she to improve her skills and he to actually let her without worrying so much.

What he found Aubrey doing was definitely not practicing fighting stances.  Adam stared transfixed as he watched her glide across the floor with a grace that he had only caught glimpses of in her everyday movements.  Aubrey was definitely unaware of his presence as she rose fully onto her toes and performed a series of small steps before going into a pirouette and then making multiple turns around the room at a speed that should have made a human dizzy, but Adam only saw a look of utter peace and serenity on her face that made his chest constrict at the emotion she elicited from him.

She was beautiful.  It was something he was well aware of, but seeing her dancing - something he knew she had loved and something that had pained her to leave behind - made it all the more obvious. Her arms moved to balance her as she rose again on one foot, her other leg lifting up and almost impossibly high near her head before she moved again, dropping her leg to extend it in front of her and folding herself over it in one fluid motion.  She stayed like that for a moment and Adam was sure she would move into another dance position, but she suddenly folded in on herself and sat on the floor, her arms coming up to circle her knees as she let out a loud sob.

He was at her side before he even registered moving.  “Are you hurt?” he asked, his eyes zeroing in on her left foot, hands going to her shoulders in concern. The ribbons of her shoes hid most of the silvery pale surgical scars he’d only glimpsed the few times he’d seen her barefoot, but nothing looked amiss.

Aubrey jumped, jerking up to look at him. “Adam?”

“You’re crying.” He couldn’t help but reach out and brush a tear away from her cheek, his breath catching when she tipped her head towards his hand.

“Oh.” Her hands went up to wipe at her face and she gave a little laugh. “I’m not hurt, at least I don’t think so.”  He watched her flex her foot before she nodded in affirmation that everything was fine. 

His brow furrowed in confusion. “Then why are you crying?”

She blushed and leaned back on her hands. “You know that before I joined the police force that I was a dancer.  Becoming a ballerina was the only thing I’ve ever wanted to be since I was six.  I spent twenty years dancing and after hurting myself and leaving, everything has felt...off, like something was missing in my life.  The instructor at the dance studio down the road’s given me an open invitation to perform at any of her programs, but I keep telling her that I’m retired. I haven’t danced since, partly because I was afraid of hurting my foot again, but mostly because I was afraid.”

He sat down next to her. “Afraid of what?”

She bit her lip. “That I wouldn’t be able to do steps I used to be able to practically do in my sleep. That no matter how much warming up I’d done that I wouldn’t be able to dance without pain. That the part of myself I had put so much of my effort into had truly died and the hole in my chest I’ve felt ever since would never go away.”  She laughed again, a trait that Adam had since realized was a nervous tell. “I told you I needed a lesson in self-assuredness.”

He let out a brief huff of laughter before sobering. “And now? Did you find the answers to your fears?” 

“I did.  I was so used to dancing at a certain pace and quantity that when the doctors told me that I’d hurt myself even more permanently if I kept it up, so my answer was to stop completely.” She tightened her arms around her knees. “My all or nothing thinking did more damage than risking the occasional recital or program here in Wayhaven making me miss my former schedule ever did.”

Anxiety suddenly latched its teeth into his chest. “Does this space displease you then?”

She jerked upright. “Displease me?  Adam, this…” she glanced around at what she could only describe as a miniature dance studio. Whoever had built it could have shuffled her to a corner of the training room, but she had been given an equal amount of space as any of the other equipment that dotted the area. “This is wonderful.”

He let out the breath he had been holding.  “Good. When your mother told us about your previous profession, I had hoped to give the architects enough direction to…” He stopped himself, heat dotting his face when he realized what he had said.

“You did this? For me?”

He frowned and tried to brush off the more serious implications his statement had brought up. “Even if you hadn’t utilized the space, an area for flexibility and agility practice would have…”  Whatever he was going to say next was knocked away when Aubrey launched herself at him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders.

“Thank you,” she breathed, her cheek settling in the curve of his neck.  She leaned back enough to look him in the eye.  “I’ve felt so lost for so long, but this...this was me coming home.”

Adam reached up and brushed his fingers over her chin. “You’re crying again.”

“Happy tears, I promise.”

He should have moved away, but it felt right to bring his arms around her and hold her close, sighing as she hugged him again. “Happy or not, I don’t like being the cause of your tears.  I shall try to not do anything to make you cry.”

She laughed, her breath warm against his throat. “Good luck. You should know by now that I tear up at the drop of a hat.” She paused. “You thinking of me as an equal part of Unit Bravo even back then really means a lot to me. I mean it, Adam.”

He rested his chin on the crown of her head and gave in to a little self-indulgence by pulling her in closer. “You’re welcome, Aubrey.” Reluctantly, he pulled away and got up. “Though I should probably apologize: Farah’s going to insist you teach her everything you know.”

Aubrey grinned and held her hands up so Adam could pull her to her feet.  “I’m ready. I’ll have her in a leotard before she knows it.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

Her grin grew. “And maybe I just might have you doing some lifts before you know it too.”

He raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see about that.”

There was a beat where they were silent. Aubrey broke it by rocking back on her heels. “You know, this was just supposed to be a test to see if I could still dance, but I think I’m going to keep it up.  Would you mind if I came by more often to practice?”

Adam tilted his head. “Why would I mind? Like you said, this is your home.” He gave her a fond smile. “Besides, it wouldn’t be unpleasant to see you here more often. Your natural agility and speed could come in handy to offset your combat prowess.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat at the way he looked at her, his eyes soft in the afternoon light. “Maybe once I knock all the rust off, I can give a mini-recital,” she joked.

“I’d like that.” Adam cleared his throat. “We’d like that. But in order for you to do so, you need time to practice. I’ll leave you to it.”

Aubrey watched as he left the training room and closed the door behind him.  She couldn’t stop from rushing over to where her phone was to scroll through some more music. Where she had sort of butchered the flow of an actual class before to test if she could simply do the moves again, now she centered herself and began to practice in earnest. The years away had left her with muscles that still remembered how to move in the correct steps, even if being out of practice meant it took a little more effort to get into them. Even so, every plie and tendu made something dormant inside her unfurl and wake up, as if someone had opened a window to let a fresh breeze in.

Just outside the training room, Adam leaned against the wall and listened for a brief moment before heading down the hallway.  “You knew she wasn’t training,” he said as he found Morgan in the kitchen.

“Never said she was,” she replied, not looking up from the apple she was slicing.  “Besides, for her, I think that still counts as training. She needed that, you know.”

“So long as she doesn’t injure herself again.”

The scoff and rolled eyes were something Adam had grown used to. “She’s a grown woman, I think she knows what her body’s limits without you hovering.” She raised an eyebrow. “Though maybe she’d want you to hover, if you know what I mean.”

He scowled. “What are you doing?”

She gave him as innocent of a look as Morgan was capable of doing. “Nothing, Adam. Just making a snack.”

He looked down at the plate of sliced apples and cheese. “You hate cheese.”

“Didn’t say it was for me.  Don’t know what sort of calories she’s burning, but…” she shrugged. “She’ll be hungry when she finishes in there.”

He dropped his defensive posture. “So you can be nice,” he teased.

“Fuck off, Adam,” she sneered, throwing the plate into the fridge. “She’s my…” She trailed off and shrugged.

“You can call her your friend. It won’t hurt.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Ha ha. That’s real rich, coming from you.  But yeah. You’re supposed to do nice things for friends.”

Adam watched as she sauntered off. Leaning against the kitchen island, he grabbed an apple from the bowl Nate had put out earlier. Taking a bite, he frowned as he went over both the moment that he had with Aubrey and the conversation he just had with Morgan.

Maybe she’s right, he thought, pushing away from the island. He opened the fridge to make sure that there was a bottle of water set next to Morgan’s snack offering for Aubrey to find. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to admit certain things.

[veryberrybrenda]

Just One More Bet

Pairing: Adam Du Mortain x Lucia Langford

Prompt: Guilt

Notes: I goggled the French curse words because I don’t speak French, so idk if they are 100% correct. I’m sorry in advance. This is Day 5 of Wayhaven Week 2020 by @otomefandomevents 

Respect was something that came easy to Lucia. Her work ethic in the office was what granted her the promotion to Detective after all. What people respected most about her was her ability to do what was needed. Whether it be staying late to finish paperwork or helping out Verda with his work, she was always the one who did what most people didn’t want to do. It was something she took pride in, that was the case until recently.

Adam made her question everything. He made her own body betray her. Pulse racing, cheeks flushed, voice stuttering. She was used to being the one with the cards in her hands, but the world decided her winning streak should come to an end.

But right now, she was in control. Perspiration made her bare feet slick against the blue mat. Her breathing was ragged as she kicked the punching bag. It stood its ground, barely swaying against her valley of kicks and punches, mocking her.

She had been getting better, thankfully, not a small part due to Adam. He had been sacrificing his brooding time to train her – make her stronger against those who wanted to hurt her.

Lucia hated the feeling of being helpless, having to rely on others. Being a burden doesn’t sit well with her independent nature. That was why she chose combat with Adam over research with Nate. Although she was better suited to learning about the weaknesses of supernaturals, with her unquenchable thirst for knowledge and all, knowledge itself, won’t stop a creature from snapping her arm off like it was some crispy taco.

Creak.

The sound of the door opening interrupted her assault on the punching bag as she turned to face the person responsible for the noise. Before even taking a glance, she already had a guess to who it could be.

Who else would train at 10 o'clock at night.

Standing at the doorway was a man with an approved expression, posture as stiff as always. “Your form is getting better,” Adam said, voice echoing in the large room.

“That’s progress,” Lucia panted, breathing rough from exertion.

Adam walked, his usual brisk strides, over to Lucia. His hand clasped behind his back as he eyed Lucia as though he were critiquing a piece of art. “Have your legs spread a bit wider when you punch. It will help you keep your balance better.”

A devilish grin formed on Lucia’s lips. This is too good. The man is setting himself up.

“Spread my legs. Got it,” she replied with a smirk, eyes searching for the slightest crack in his once impenetrable walls.

The flirtation only made Adam narrow his eyes, jaw clenched. “This is not some game, Detective. Your life is at stake.”

“I make fun where fun is needed. I heard it makes it easier to remember stuff,” Lucia quipped confidently as she awaited the leader’s comeback.

“Your life is no joke. It is precious to me- I mean us.” Adam’s eyes widen at his slip up, but he hastily plastered back on his stoic mask. “Besides, Agent Langford would be highly disappointed in me if something happened to you.”

His almost confession had Lucia blinking for a few seconds. Maybe there is hope after all. She just had to do what was necessary to get it out of him.

Taking a step closer, she fully gazed into his emerald eyes, searching for some sign of the real unguarded soul behind it. “Would you be disappointed if something were to happen to me?”

She saw it. The slightest twitch of his lips as he concentrated on maintaining his mask. “Yes, of course. It would be quite an annoyance to have one less team member to utilize during missions.” Although his expression was unreadable, his voice wasn’t. There was a slight pitch to it that betrayed him.

I hooked him. Now it’s time to see if the world will deal me a good hand.

This was turning into a gamble as she took another step, his eyes trailing her every move, but thankfully he wasn’t fleeing…yet. Rolling the dice yet again, she reached out to grab his hand, his fingers limp against hers. She could sense the smallest tensing of his fingers like he’s fighting himself not to hold her hand.

Lucia still gets surprised each time she feels the delicate skin of his palm. Where she expected them to be hard, rough, and calloused from his centuries of work, they were soft, smooth, and lacking any imperfection. He would make an amazing hand model.

His mouth opened then promptly closed shut with unsaid words. Adam’s pupils were blown, turning his eyes dark as the green disappeared. A battle is raging inside of those eyes. The man who wants to be set free vs. the vampire who has survived centuries of loneliness and pain. Lucia can only hope her bet on the former wins.

There is no better time than now to confront him. I just hope he doesn’t run away this time.

Her volume has died down to a mere whisper, “Adam, I want to say- “

As though he knew where she was going with this, he suddenly whips around, yanking his hand away from hers, and knocking down a wooden dummy in the process. Lucia flinches at the loud thud the dummy makes when it hit the floor. Adam just stares at the dummy menacingly as if its existence offended him.

After a few seconds of silence, Adam crouches down to pick up the dummy. His eyes still radiating hatred when he sees Lucia also couching down to help him.

“I got it!” Adam snarled, tone low and threatening.

“I want to help.” Her tone not making any room for argument, but Adam always seemed to find a way.

Adam grips the dummy. “I don’t want your help.” His voice coming out in a single breath as he heaves the dummy up.

She desperately tried to think of something to say - to prevent his walls from rising up again as he wipes the dust off the dummy. Clenching her hands, she builds her resolve that she hopes will be enough to stand against a 900-year-old vampire.

“Tu Omnia.” It comes out as more of a command than a statement, which she hopes Adam will obey.

The phrase had Adam’s body freezing up like ice, his back, taunt as it faced her.

“You are everything.” She said the phrase slowly, afraid that if she said them a little too quick, she would’ve spooked him. This time, raw emotion spills into her voice, making Adam’s knuckles tighten over the wooden dummy, fingers white.

“Where…did you hear that?” Adam questioned accusingly.

Determination filled Lucia once again. “You told me that just before the medication kicked in after the fight with the trappers.”

“I…never said such thing!” Adam shouted defensively that emphasized his continued digging of his grave.

She crossed her arms, anger starting to simmer inside of her at the man’s lies. “Just ask Nate. He was the one who translated it for me.”

“No, you’re wrong!” An animalistic snarl escapes from his lips. The wood under his fingers finally break with a snap. “Fils de pute (son of a bitch)!” Adam curses in what she assumes is French as he chucks the broken wood aimlessly to the side. He throws it with so much force that it shatters the mirror beside him, sending shards scattering everywhere.

Without a word, she bends down to pick up the shards on the ground. Adam is still turned away from her while she silently cleans up the collateral damage, something she has gotten too used to doing.

Unfortunately for her, she made the terrible mistake of forgetting that she’s bare foot and she steps on a shard, a subdued scream escaping from her lips.

“Fucking hell!” She shouts angrily, while clutching her injured foot. Crimson drips readily from the sizable shard embedded in the center of her foot.

Maybe it was the pain of her wound or the frustration of being lied to by the person she trusts the most, but she just couldn’t take it anymore. She felt tired. Tired of pretending that it didn’t hurt every time Adam would show her a piece of his heart then proceed to snatch it away, leaving her to deal with the consequences. She knew this was no way to live her life, but if she was honest with herself, she was addicted. Addicted to seeing him smile at a joke she made or when his gaze would soften around her. Living 900 years alone had its baggage, sure, but her stupid heart couldn’t help itself. She’s neck deep in her bad habit that she just can’t bring herself to quit.

Maybe I’ll win the next round, she keeps telling herself, but the cards were slipping from her hands and she was powerless to stop it.

She would never be able to quit Adam Du Mortain for as long as she breathes.

Tears were forming in her eyes as her own walls that were meant to defend her, came caving in, trapping her under the rubble.

-

Lucia’s scream pulls Adam from his state and he instantly appears behind her in a blur, arms wrapped around her waist as he gently eases her down on the mat away from the broken glass. Her hands are coated in warm blood. The aroma of it overpowered his senses, crying out to his primal side to surface, to drink it, but he suppresses it as he tucks a piece of stray hair away from her face that have come undone from her ponytail.

Her black eyes always fascinated him and the same time, annoyed him. They gave him a hard time because he could never see her pupils that mixed with her black iris. Not that he has to of course, her hammering heart always was a telltale sign of her true feelings - ones that he tries his best to ignore, for his sake. They were two black holes, reeling him in and refusing to let go until he was consumed by them. They contrasted nicely with her bright lavender hair that set her apart from everyone else, but right now, he wishes he could see those eyes.

Lucia’s bloody hands covered her dark eyes as she chokes on her sobs. The sight of her in such a state because of him made his heart constrict in guilt.

Crying didn’t come naturally to her, so it wasn’t the glass that had tears racking her body. It was something else – something that he refuses to acknowledge because once he does, he won’t be able to stop himself. The only time he had seen her cry was when she visited him when he got injured by the trappers. Her tears had weakened his walls, which made him say those words that he wished he could take back. Tu Omnia. The DMB had made his mind weak and it slipped out before he could stop himself. She hadn’t brought it up since and he thought she didn’t hear it, but he was surely mistaken.

He admired her tenacity. He would shoo her away and she would still find a way back to him like some lovesick puppy. Her fighting spirit reminded Adam of himself. He would sacrifice anything for his team – and for her. So the sight of her broken and beaten in his arms caused him to feel like a failure. He failed to protect her from danger – failed to protect her from himself.

I wish you could see how much you deserve someone better than me.

Adam laid a hand under the back of her head to hug her closer to him, hoping that it would offer her some peace in her battle to find the shadow of the man that had been lost to time. Her head instantly tucked into his chest, and so he did his best to shield her from the dangerous world that threatened to destroy who she was. He was glad that she wasn’t able to look at him because if she did, his walls would’ve instantly came crashing down.

Sliding one hand under her legs and the other under her back, he lifted her up bridal style in his strong arms. Her cries had turned into small whimpers now as she struggled to regain her composure. She felt lighter than he expected – smaller, more fragile. Her tendency to project strength, just like her mother, almost made him forget how delicate humans actually are.

As Adam was in the process of carrying her to her room, he passed by Nate, who instantly rushed towards him, expression worried as he took in Lucia bleeding and whimpering in his arms. Adam had hoped that no one would notice, but everyone must’ve heard her cries by now.

“What happened?” Nate asked, brows knitted in worry.

“Please, not now Nate.” Adam pleaded. He hoped that his old friend can understand the look in his eyes to back off.

Nate must’ve understood. “Okay. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Can you clean the broken glass in the training room?”

“Of course.” Nate replied softly. He quietly walked away, something that Adam found oddly strange, given his size.

With no more interruptions, Adam arrived at Lucia’s brightly decorated room. He was glad that the lights were off because the bright colors made his sensitive eyes hurt.

He slowly eased her down onto her bed, her hands stubbornly refused to let go. He had to peel them off of his waist, which wasn’t difficult since her lack of energy meant her resistance was weak.

He was no stranger to treating injuries. During his time as a human, he was an expert at stitching himself up, a skill he learned growing up as a knight. He grabbed a towel from the bathroom, running it under the tap. He also knew where the first aid kit was.

Under the sink cabinet and next to the shampoo bottles.

He memorized this detail when he helped Nate set up the room for her first stay at the Warehouse. With her being so clumsy, it was an extra precaution that had paid off.

He came back to Lucia, quiet and staring at the white ceiling, eyes swollen and glossy from crying. She slowly sat up when she saw him, black eyes still in a state of distress. He tried to ignore the way her sad eyes followed him as he began his work.

He gently grasped her ankle, glancing at her when it was time to pull the shard out. She understood his look and slowly nodded as she turned her gaze away from her foot. Adam firmly gripped the shard in his fingers and with one swift motion, yanked it out causing a whimper from Lucia. He quickly stopped the fresh flow of blood by cleaning it with the wet towel, her muscles tensing from the pain. After all the blood was cleaned, it was time for the most painful part. He poured the alcohol on a cotton ball and did his best to be quick and efficient. A few hisses signaled her pain. He was now wrapping her foot in gauze, careful not to make it too tight so the wound can breathe.

Once he finished, she still refused to look at him, her jaw clenched tightly.

It’s better for you to hate me. That makes it easier.

Thinking that there was nothing else he could do to ease her suffering, Adam stood up from the bed, but a small, weak hand gripped his arm, still fighting to keep him from walking away.

“Please, don’t leave.” It was mixture between a whisper and whimper that had Adam retreating back to the bed, Lucia’s hand still clutching his arm as though it was a life preserver in a stormy sea.

“I’m here, Luc.” He reassured her, eyes softening. “I won’t leave you.” He surprised himself at how naturally the words flowed from his mouth

“Can you lay next to me until I fall asleep?” She whispered, eyes pleading.

Even if Adam wanted to, no words would have come out of his mouth, so instead, he nodded and laid back on the bed, pulling the quilt over Lucia and tucking her small head in his chest. He could sense her heart slowing down as she drifted away from reality, but what he didn’t expect was his heartbeat to slow as well, synchronizing with hers. The familiar rhythm combined with her comforting scent of cherry blossoms lulled Adam to sleep, one where his nightmares wouldn’t dare touch him.