#[ to contain the situation which she perceives as getting worse and worse by the day ]

[idolbound]

we’ve talked about how Meredith was de facto viscount during her last years which essentially made Kirkwall a military state by default, does Meredith have any qualms with this takeover or was it part of the goal? Or was this simply something that happened in her tenure and through her complicated choices?

@extravagantliar | unprompted.

So, I went ahead and let this one percolate for a bit.

I have no doubt that enforcing martial law with the backing of the Templar Order was a collaborative idea Meredith shared with Grand Cleric Elthina, using the templar forces to enact and maintain it until a suitable replacement Viscount could be found. I argue that this is true as that it is not the first time they’ve had a direct hand in Kirkwall’s politics, nor is it the first time the Templar Order has been used to enforce those decisions.

The main example is from when Meredith was Knight-Captain. During Viscount Threnhold Perrin’s reign, the Templar Order had a strong influence as the largest armed force in Kirkwall at the time. However, Meredith’s predecessor, Knight-Commander Guylian, believed the templars’ domain was solely in the Gallows, and chose to remain political neutral (even though that force could have easily challenged the Viscount for power). However, Viscount Perrin opted to close passage for Orlesian ships through the Waking Sea via Kirkwall, which obviously caused disruptions in trade and other economic dependencies for Orlais. Under pressure from Divine Beatrix III, Knight-Commander Guylian then commanded the templars to force Viscount Perrin to reopen the passage to Orlesian ships. In retaliation, the Viscount hired mercenaries to storm the Gallows; they captured Guylian and publicly hung him. Enraged by this, Meredith as Knight-Captain was able to lead her best templars to march on the Viscount’s estate, determined to exact terrible justice. The City Guard captain tried to protest he knew nothing of the mercenary plot, and asserted that the Viscount had acted unlawfully, and thus, arrested Perrin himself. Perrin’s land and titles were stripped from him and he was thrown into his own dungeon. It was this course of action that allowed Elthina to appoint Meredith officially as the new Knight-Commander and it was Meredith’s “strong suggestion” to put Marlowe Dumar as the new Viscount.

Now, this choice is important here to consider. Rather than hold an election, he was chosen and placed on the throne by Elthina at Meredith’s suggestion and appointment. It is clear that even then, as the new Knight-Commander, Meredith held considerable political power. From the same World of Thedas vol. 2 entry, she was always “there, looking over his shoulder”, and made it quite clear that she was always watching; he wore the crown at “her sufferance.” As a man of only moderate wealth and little influence, she knew she could control him, and there was little he or anyone else could do about – and this was exemplified when Meredith threatened him at his crowning. She presented him with a “carved ivory box”, which made him turn white as a sheet when he opened it. A different entry says that within it, was Perrin’s bloody signet ring; on the inner lid, in her handwriting, was written, “His fate need not be yours.”  This threat made it clear that Dumar could never openly or strongly defy the templars or else he would end up imprisoned like his predecessor. Through his reign, “Meredith’s grip on Kirkwall grew even tighter and Dumar’s failure to act absolutely contributed to the events that led to the mage rebellion.”

So, Elthina and Meredith had a direct hand in choosing Dumar specifically as a spineless puppet on the throne, kept in line by their influence, as aligned with both the Chantry and Meredith’s own personal political wants; Val Royeaux clearly wanted to avoid a repeat incident with regards to the passage of trade and ships, and Meredith herself wanted to have political influence from the very moment she became Knight-Commander, in the interests of the Templar Order and maintaining power and control over the mages.

After the qunari attack, with Hawke defeating the Arishok, it is quite clear that Meredith is both disappointed and angry that she did not get there first, to do it herself and earn the title of Champion – another way she could earn political influence with the people, who could view her not just as Knight-Commander, but as a hero, a knight in shining armour. This would’ve earned her more popularity, by seeing her in action directly to save the people not just from magic, but from other threats too. Hawke becomes more than just an up-and-coming pain in the ass, but a political player now on the metaphorical chessboard of Kirkwall’s politics.

So, begin Act III.

There are 3 years between naming Hawke as Champion, and the opening scene in the market courtyard. In these 3 years, we know that enacting Martial Law was the first prerogative to re-establishing some control after the qunari attack, as the wider population would have found out about Viscount Dumar’s death. I think it is likely that again, Meredith would have made a strong suggestion, to which Elthina agreed and made it official, with the backing of the Templars to support it (as I am also certain, they would have outinfluenced and outnumbered the City Guard and Captain Aveline). For the first little while – I would say between 3-6 months – this was accepted by the people as satisfactory, as clean up and rebuilding efforts would have been made, along with burning or burying the victims of the attack, and so on. Selecting a new political leader would not have necessarily been the immediate concern; many likely would’ve assumed there would be an election process among the nobility to find Dumar’s replacement.

And at first, keeping the peace and protecting the city was seen as a noble necessity; but, as the months carried on, it was made quite clear that Elthina, Meredith, and the Templars had no intent on selecting a leader anytime soon. With control over Kirkwall, Meredith had even more free reign to do as necessary – again, with the intention of having as much power and control as she could over the Circle mages and to capture or eliminate apostates (particularly, stopping maleficarum/blood magic from occurring). However, being in this role, as someone who is always hungry for obtaining more power and influence explicitly for the control over magic, I think she sees stepping into the role of de facto Viscount as something almost natural at this point; in an unofficial capacity with the backing of her own armed force, it gives her the decision-making power unlike any other, allowing her not just to rule and roam the Gallows, but the entire city. It becomes almost a logical step to remain in power in this way to ensure the safety of her city and home without some of the constraints or responsibilities that the Viscount would have in running the city-state, and I believe Elthina would also agree with it, as it would put the Chantry’s interests at the forefront, as well.

Now, of course, we know that in this time period, Meredith somehow heard or found out about the potential of an idol that could grant her even more power. How ever she got in touch with Bartrand and made a deal with a great amount of coin “for his prize”, we may never know, but we do know she had the idol fashioned and forged into a great sword and acquired it in this three-year period. Obviously, the madness brought on by the proximity to the idol is not instantaneous but occurs over a gradual period of time; it’s why at the start of Act III, we begin to see Meredith acting a little differently – she’s more accusatory, more blatant, and less in control of herself, as evidenced enough in the market courtyard dispute. She immediately wants to have Orsino clapped in irons and made an example of and does not hide how she feels about the First Enchanter. It is safe to say that, leading up to this scene, Meredith’s paranoia has ramped up in the time between acts, to the point that the general population starts to notice how she has changed. (And at this point, I am certain Meredith is beginning to have the auditory and visual hallucinations, particularly when she is alone or trying to sleep at night, but not fully yet affecting her perception of reality). However, the change to her paranoia and otherwise, does affect her decision-making ability and the ability to be logical and rational.

Obviously, we know that Grand Cleric Elthina is the only person who has a direct leash to control Meredith (as made quite clear with the very demeaning "Now go back to the Gallows, like a good girl" in public, to which Meredith begrudgingly listens and retreats). While Elthina does not appear to “take sides”, she does use her power to try and maintain the peace without overtly doing anything. In turn, this allows Meredith to continue with Martial Law and as de facto Viscount, with only a few constraints. This is why Elthina remains a powerful influence, as the only one truly able to keep Meredith in check (which of course, disappears when she is killed in the Chantry explosion, and allows Meredith to invoke the Right of Annulment, regardless of it being Anders’ doing, to give in to the demand of the people for justice and “retribution”; it is quite clear Meredith had wanted to do so for a long time, but had been told no by Val Royeaux years prior; without anyone to hold her back, she went ahead). However, during Act III is when her control starts slipping through her fingers, seeing “blood magic in every corner”, and having the idol’s influence start to affect her perceptions of reality as well as her ability to understand things rationally and logically.

That said, however, if she had been able to be de facto Viscount long enough, I think she would have continued the role, forgoing election processes, until she was certain that Kirkwall was made safe from magic and mages, and ruled as rigorously and righteously as she rules the Circle with harsh law and strict rules, all in the name of keeping people safe. By no means was it was not necessarily her plan all along, but through the choices and the world around her, became necessary in her mind. Because throughout her tenure, she has tried and tried to keep everything running smoothly and safely, and still finds that there are apostates on the run, maleficarum using blood magic, and the number of abominations and demons never truly lessens. She is always driven by the desire for power and control to stop this, and almost becomes desperate to acquire what she needs to see it through. Ultimately, her goal is not to run Kirkwall as a politician, but given the circumstances, she sees it as a logical step forward to give her what she needs to achieve her goals as a Templar – to contain, control, and keep mages within the Circle, to keep people safe from them and to keep mages safe from themselves.  

But with all things in this story, Meredith’s good intentions paved the road to hell, for herself and for everyone around her. It is always justified in her mind to do as she needs to, in order to uphold her oath as a Templar and her pledge to her late sister’s life, but, being part of the Chantry as an institution has led her astray from her original intent, always hungry for more and more power and control. Becoming the de facto leader in the chaos was still never enough.

[markanddebbie-protectionprogram]

i couldn't for the life of me find it again but i saw this really great post about how rex seems like he has BPD or a cluster b personality and i totally agree and i feel like it fits into markrex quite well for a few reasons. when rex first sees mark and eve arriving together, he has a really dramatically negative reaction even after eve tells him they go to the same high school. i feel like this scene highlights how rex is really insecure about himself and the relationship, and that eve merely being around an attractive guy like mark makes him feel really threatened. he also later makes fun of mark, which isn't abnormal for him but i feel like was to try and make himself feel better about the situation and the perceived rejection he's probably feeling from eve. and when they contain to hang out it made rex feel even worse, so he decides to self sabotage by cheating with kate. and the line kate says to eve is also really telling IMO, because we know he wasn't telling the truth but the fact that he would say she's dating invincible now means he could feel as if that might as well be true, because of a perceived abandonment of him by eve for mark. and for markrex, i think this could also show that rex is insecure about his attraction to mark as well, and probably feels inferior to him.

anon i saw that post too!! although i'm sorry it took me days to get back to you 😭 i tried to search it up so i can link it but it seems like it's goneeee 😭😭😭

i did a lil more reading and digging about it the clusters in BPD and i totally see what you mean.

ik it's not canon that rex has BPD but it would be so interesting to have that type of rep in the show.

also, thank you for listing out the moments those are really still fresh in my mind cause i've started to ship markrex even then.

all of rex's appearances and moments are memorable tbh. and it is highlighted with how he reacts with the things around him (as you listed this includes his dramatic moments, his jealousy, possible feelings of inferiority, and his self-sabotaging ways).

these things does add a certain interesting aspects about markrex's dynamic. and the s2 ep1 is such a blessing tbh.

because in s1 we see markrex in a not-so positive light considering there were moments rex was mean to mark. but mark never really took any of it to heart. which, btw, bless. it speaks how mature mark is and i think it'll be a really good balance with rex's immaturity.

now with their moment on s2ep1, it's such a good change to see them interact this way. you wouldn't think that rex would comfort him — if anything, i genuinely thought the writers would have black samson comforting invincible — but rex was genuine about it. sure it wasn't the most comforting or eloquent reassurance, but it was a genuine attempt coming from rex.

i do have a lil fic in the works for it btw hehe, but that's for another time.

personally i'm looking forward for more markrex interactions. i think they can balance each other really well, the blue-red aesthetic is there too, and the one-sided rivalry to allies to friends to lovers arc is my jammmm 🫶

[nebulablakemurphy]

But can we get a Daryl fic sample?

It’s like a Dead City/Daryl Dixon spinoff combo situation that follows Y/N and Daryl on their accidental trip to France. And their daughter Sophie, Carol, Maggie and Negan’s storyline to rescue Hershel Jr. in Manhattan at the same time. So that said, I hope you enjoy this free sample of ‘Way Down We Go’

“Never thought I’d get this close to seeing Lady Liberty in the flesh.” Negan huffs, staring out at the abandoned city of Manhattan.

“Not from ‘round here?” The girl, trailing behind him, inquires. Not that she really cares, but there’s not enough history between them for her to hate him the way Maggie does. And the silence is deafening.

“Virginia, born and raised. You?”

“I was born in a prison.” Sophie raises a shoulder, her Y/H/C hair shifting in it’s ponytail.

“Ain’t that some shit, kid.” Negan remarks.

“It was hardly a prison by then, try compound.” Carol interjects.

“It was a prison, Grandma.” Her parents used to tell her stories about it. How she was named after her mother’s little sister, who didn’t live long enough to see it. Sophie was the second baby born there, almost a year after Judith. They’re both grown now. Adults by all accounts of the old world. Still, when she wants to do anything even remotely dangerous, Carol follows…or her mom…or her dad. “But tomato, tomoto I guess.”

Y/N and Daryl are…different. As parents, they were fair, never came down too hard on her. Her father is an outdoor cat who learned to survive indoors. Her mother is the opposite.

They met at the first camp Rick’s group ever had and the rest is history. To this day they grumble when people ask what they are to each other, or assume that they are together, or worse; married.

They are Y/N and Daryl. That’s all.

Growing up, Sophie always thought they were in love. At least in the way she perceived love to be. Her father would come home after a long day and cling to her mother like it was the first and last time he’d see her for years. Sometimes her mother would cling. But it was rare and often meant that something was wrong.

He let Y/N drive his bike on occasion, hollering all the while, “watch where ya goin’, girl!”

Otherwise her father is a quiet man, her mother is more outspoken. And though Daryl Dixon is more than capable, Y/N Peletier never hesitates to put anyone who messes with him in their place.

Leaving their only child behind was not a decision they made lightly. But Sophie is old enough to make her own choices and she’s never been a risk taker. Staying in a place that’s familiar, versus abandoning it for the great unknown was a no brainer.

Which only adds to the irony of her current situation. Sophie and Carol on a mission with Maggie and Negan himself, to rescue Hershel from some guy called the Croat.

What a time to be alive.

————————————————————————

“Damnit, girl, stop movin’.” Daryl growls, applying pressure to the blade wound on Y/N’s thigh. Something to remember the prick they stole this boat by.

Aaron told Daryl a long time ago, that he could tell a good person from a bad one. Daryl doesn’t know if that’s true anymore, but this last group was not good people.

“Fuck,” Y/N shakes her head. “We’re fucked.” There goes any chance of getting home.

“Why don’t ya say it a little louder, maybe it’ll help.” He lets up slightly when her hand rests over his.

Her lips pressed together to contain the sound of her suffering.

“Lemme see.”

Y/N removes her hand and his. The muscles of her afflicted leg spasming of their own accord. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“You’re gonna live.” Daryl murmurs, prodding around the gash. “Needs stitches though.”

Thunder cracks down, booming behind dark clouds in the overcast sky.

Y/N can’t help but laugh as the first drops of rain hit her upturned cheek. There’s a storm brewing and they’re stuck bobbing in the middle of nowhere.

“Now we’re fucked.” Daryl grumbles, under his breath.

Part 1

[wonjaekook]

Residual Starshine

Pairing:  Soccer player!Yuta x fem!reader

Description: You’ve experienced plenty of irritations in your life. For better or for worse, none of them are quite like Nakamoto Yuta.

Word Count: 19.3k

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers ; fluff, smut, touch of angst

Warnings: my first published full blown smut scene (only one towards the end, nothing crazy), sexual references?, swearing, mentions of alcohol

A/N: Mingyu appears as a somewhat bad character in this, but I absolutely don’t think of him that way. As always, this is entirely fictional. If you want one song to vibe to while reading this, I was listening to Everybody Talks by Neon Trees a lot :-) this is the longest fic I’ve ever written and the first one containing smut that I’ve ever published, so please let me know what you thought!

Taglist: @junglewoos​ @insomni-writing​ @neowritingsnet​

This is my contribution to @/leesmrk’s sports collab, but she deactivated (Dee I miss you) so @lucas-wongs​ has compiled the masterlist in her stead! The link to the master post with all other submissions is in my masterlist.

You didn’t expect to be spending your first morning before classes with your face smashed into your pillow, pressing the cotton over your ears. Yesterday morning had been perfectly lovely - you slept a solid eight hours and you only awoke to the beautiful morning sunshine greeting you through your blinds.  All things considered, it was a very natural wake-up. However, the loud J-rock blaring through the floor from the apartment below you is the exact opposite of natural. Perhaps the music isn’t as loud as you perceive it to be, but you happen to take things quite personally when you’re woken up an hour early.

Except, you don’t take it personally enough that you force your body out of bed. Instead, you allow yourself to let out a loud groan of annoyance before you pull your covers over your head. Thankfully, the music shuts off about five minutes later and you drift back off to sleep.

When you awaken again an hour later, the sunlight coming into your room doesn’t seem nearly as friendly as it did yesterday. Still, this time you do force yourself to get up. You go through your usual routine - bathroom, change into your running clothes, and stretch. You hear no sounds of any stirring from your roommates as you get ready. It’s somewhat of a relief to have the apartment to yourself in the morning. You put your headphones in and step out of the apartment, trying to get yourself in the zone with your workout playlist while also doing a quick look around to see if anyone is out. One set of stairs and you’re at the door leading out of the small complex - a building with four apartments, two on the first floor and two on the second floor. Outside on the step leading to the sidewalk and there’s still no one around. Without a second of hesitation more, you’re off at a light jog. Half of the apartments in this area of your campus are dedicated to student athletes and there’s nothing you dread more than running, quite literally, into someone who’s by far your superior at this activity and who would judge you. As you run, the thought of your lower neighbor comes to you. You wake up early to go run - but they woke up earlier. At that thought, a frown subconsciously makes its way to your face. Shooting a quick prayer to the heavens that you don’t run into anyone, you continue on.

Though you hadn’t started running until this summer, you know your campus well enough in the years you’ve been here to find a nice path. That also means that, when you see pairs of runners ahead of you, you can make unexpected turns to avoid passing them. At one point, you veer out of the way of a pack of people who you assume is the running club. About forty five minutes later, you’re sweaty and more physically exhausted than when you had left, but the energy thrumming in your veins leaves you with a deep sense of satisfaction. You had successfully avoided every person you had come across on your run and-

You nearly open the door of your complex into one of your neighbors. Acting on reflex, you step back and dip your head, avoiding looking at him. “Oh, sorry.”

“That’s alright.” His voice is a smooth rumble and you look up, briefly forgetting about your sweaty and near-unpresentable state. He looks freshly showered, his skin smooth and just slightly sunkissed. Based on his physique, you would have guessed that he’s a student athlete, but his hair seems a little too long to match the stereotype. It’s a bit of a mane, a dark mop sitting atop the throne of his handsome face, and you think it suits him. As your eyes drift from his hair to his eyes to his nose and finally to his mouth, which has been set into the crooked angle of a smirk, it dawns on you that you’re checking him out very openly. Your face, already warm from exercise, turns blazing hot. After all of the hard work you went through to avoid embarrassing yourself this morning… “You’re cute, too, don’t worry.”

Several very intrusive thoughts come to you at once. By his very specific phrasing, he thinks you’re attractive. He also knows he’s attractive. The warmth of the complement fades to indignation at his cockiness. You press your mouth into a thin line and lower your head again, not making eye contact with him as you slip past him through the door. You’re not sure if his gaze follows you as you march back up the stairs to your apartment.

“One of our neighbors is a total ass!”

One of your roommates, Sowon, is lounging on your sofa as you sit at the small table in your shared living room, grinding the pen in your hand into your planner in frustration. It’s well into the afternoon now, the sun casting lines of shadows through your blinds, and you’re still hung up on what happened earlier. Sowon is also perfectly aware that you’re exaggerating, but she encourages you to continue. “The soccer neighbors or the volleyball neighbors?”

“Of course it’s one of the soccer neighbors! The volleyball neighbors would never do this to me.” You huff, eying the nearly empty container of cookies on the table.

“You’re aware that Johnny just brought those over so he had an excuse to hit on Yein, right?” Sowon releases a strand of hair that she had just idly wrapped around a finger, watching it twirl in the air. Your second roommate only sighs at the mention of her name, but doesn’t deny it.

“And Doyoung was the one who actually made them. So, by association, I am entitled to an equal share of cookies.” You consider Doyoung a friend - you shared a chemistry class with him once and he seemed to tolerate your presence, even enjoy it at times. He even sends you the occasional text still. “That doesn’t mean Yein isn’t going to be the one to give the container back, though.”

Yein frowns and opens her mouth but Sowon raises a finger to stop her. “Y/N is correct.”

With a shake of her head, Yein turns her attention back to you. “You were talking about the soccer neighbor?”

After you explain the situation as truthfully and dramatically as possible to them, they look at each other once before looking back at you. Sowon speaks first. “He’s definitely flirting.”

“Or he’s just like that naturally.” Yein counters. “Who flirts at eight in the morning?”

“You’d be surprised.” After you say that, her words sink in. You ran into him at eight in the morning, when he was looking refreshed. He’s a member of the soccer team, meaning he probably exercises in the morning. He also has pretty stereotypical rocker hair. “Holy shit, he’s the asshole who was blasting J-rock through the floor this morning!”

“Okay, never mind. He is a jerk.” Sowon wrinkles her nose.

“Was it at least good J-rock?” Yein prods.

You shrug. “It was alright, I guess. But that’s besides the point!” You slam your planner closed. “I’m giving him a piece of my mind the next time I see him.”

For several days, as classes start, you still get in your morning run and, each day, without fail, you’re woken up by the boy’s J-rock about an hour early. You fail to catch him at any time of the day until, finally, you’re on your way out of the apartment one morning. As you pull open the door, you nearly ram into him once again, though the situation is reversed. He’s the one who’s sweaty and warm, headphones firmly in his ears. That changes as he smirks, popping them out at the sight of you in the door. “So, we meet again.”

“Uh-huh.” You take the position of a displeased mother about to lecture a child, your arms crossed over your chest as you block the door. “You know, I have words for you.”

“Wow, already? People usually don’t have words for me until at least the third time we’ve met. Well, at least not more than a few choice ones like-”

You cut him off before he can inflate his own ego more. “Stop playing music so loud at six in the morning.”

He tilts his head like he’s confused, but the way his lips are quirked up tells you that he knows exactly what you’re talking about. “Baseless accusations. Maybe you should take this up with Jaehyun or Kun. I would never do such a thing.”

“Come on. I know it’s you.” The look you give him is entirely unamused, so he relents slightly, the smile falling from his face.

“What are you gonna do, report me to housing?” Before you can reply that, yes, that’s exactly what you’ll do, he continues. “I’ll tell them about the parties you and your roommates have. I’m sure they’d love coming out here at 3 AM one day just to tell you to keep it down. Almost as much as they’d love to come to my door at 6 to do the same.”

He starts walking towards the door and you turn your body inward, allowing him passage while silently fuming. “You-”

“My name is Nakamoto Yuta. You can say that if you need something to scream.” He gifts you a sly wink as he unlocks his door and lets himself in, leaving you so bewildered that you can’t think of a response at all.

“Stop messing with the soccer boys.” Sowon immediately reprimands you after you recount what happened. “You know the school will punish us before they punish them.”

“Yeah, and if this is your way of flirting, you need to think of something better.” Yein adds from the connected kitchen, tossing the stir-fry in her pan. “I’m not risking getting kicked out because you decided to mess with the soccer team’s star player.”

“To be fair, I don’t think he was really upset about the interaction. He seemed amused by my reaction.” You slump down, your forehead resting on the table. “And I didn’t know who he was until he said his name.”

“Well, he doesn’t know who you are-”

“And I don’t want him to.” You cut off Sowon. “I’ll just… deal with it.”

You get one more peaceful morning of running alone before, two days after you had first talked to him, Nakamoto Yuta comes jogging up to you. You don’t hear him at first. Music blares in your earbuds, drowning out most of the background noise of the morning, and your heartbeat in your ears fills out the parts of your internal sound profile that your music doesn’t quite reach. He comes up behind you, nearly making you jump out of your skin when you see the figure of another person jogging in your peripherals. Your pace falters, but you immediately try to right yourself and regain momentum, praying he’ll just pass by you without saying anything. Except he doesn’t leave. With an internal sigh, you turn your head towards him. He offers you a grin and air-taps over his ear. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you pull out your headphones. “What?”

“Great morning, isn’t it?”

You contemplate shutting your eyes so that you can purposefully trip and eject yourself from this conversation. “I guess.”

“It’s soccer season. You know that, right?” You narrow your eyes at him, but nod. “Our first game is coming up soon.” You don’t like where this is going. “You should come.” “You must be hard-pressed for attendees to be randomly asking your neighbor to come to your game.” You reach for your earbuds again.

“Hold on, hold on.” You pause, then immediately wonder why you’re even giving him the time of day. Still, you relent for a moment. “If you come to the game this Saturday, I’ll stop playing music so loud when I wake up.”

“If you were a kind and courteous neighbor, you would just do that without having to threaten me to go to one of your games. And,” you state flatly, “I’ve already been to enough soccer games for the rest of my life, thank you very much.”

As you jog away, he doesn’t try to stop you again, but you could swear that he seems the slightest bit disappointed.

The next morning is more of the same as usual. The same loud J-rock that wakes you up an hour early, your same run, your same shower and breakfast and classes. You consider shifting your sleep schedule so that you wake up at the same time as Yuta, though you dismiss the idea because why should you change your lifestyle to adjust for his? You’d rather suffer the early wakeup.

Except, two days after he asks you to come to one of his games, the music stops. That first morning, you wake up at your usual time. You’re prepared to be upset at Yuta waking you early again, but when your foggy morning brain processes that you had woken up to your own alarm and not his music, you lie there confused. When you go out for your run not long after, you almost hope that you’ll run into him. There’s no way he’s just being nice is there? He has to be sick or something. To your disappointment, you don't run into him and you’re just stuck in your confusion. This goes on for three more days and each day you become more perplexed.

As you’re returning to your apartment after your classes that Friday, someone holds the door for you as you approach. “Thanks-” you start, then see who’s holding it for you. “-oh! Jaehyun!”

“Hey, uh, Y/N, right?” You smile at him, nodding firmly. You’re almost surprised that he remembers your name because you’d only chatted once before, back when you were moving in. He’s perfectly polite, almost shy-seeming, and completely different from his roommate. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, I’m just getting back from classes.” Thinking of his roommate… “I was actually wondering, um…” He gives you a confused look, waiting for you to continue. “Is Yuta doing okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. Why?” Jaehyun hadn’t been aware that you were at all acquainted with his roommate.

You appear equally as confused as he does. “Oh, I… never mind. If you don’t mind me asking, where’s your next game?”

He brightens up at that. “It’s a home game. Tomorrow at six, don’t miss it!”

You return his smile. “Great, thanks, Jaehyun! I’ll see you around?” He sends you off with a wave before you go your separate ways, entering your respective apartments.

Should you actually go to his game? You don’t owe him anything, you never agreed to his deal, but he did stop playing his music so loud. You’re not really doing anything on Saturday either… maybe you’ll bug Sowon and Yein so that they’ll come with you.

That evening, the apartment below yours is particularly busy. All of the soccer boys are home - Yuta, Jaehyun, Kun - and the volleyball and art boys are also over - Johnny, Doyoung, Jungwoo, Taeyong, Ten, and Sicheng. After all, as Johnny says, Friday nights are for the boys. Conversation flows from school to girls to boys to soccer, upon which Jaehyun shares a very interesting observation with his friends.

“By the way, it seems like you have another admirer, Yuta.” Jaehyun says as he takes a swig of his soju, recently acquired from the nearby Korean market and grossly overpriced.

“Sure,” Yuta responds, rolling his eyes, “who would that be?”

“You know that girl from upstairs? Y/N? She asked about you today and then asked me about our next game.”

“We haven’t even had our first game and you’re already collecting fangirls? Come on, Yuta,” Kun chimes in this time, breaking away from his conversation with Sicheng about their shared organic chemistry class.

“That can’t be right,” Yuta says, leaning back into the couch, “L/N Y/N? I’m pretty sure she hates my guts. I tried to make a deal with her to get her to come to the game and she just brushed me off.”

Doyoung narrows his eyes at his friend. “Y/N doesn’t just hate people for no reason. What did you do?”

Yuta raises his hands defensively and half-glares at him. “I didn’t do anything! I was just being myself and she decided to hate me.”

“The star-player, cocky version of yourself or the normal version of yourself?” Doyoung says, looking entirely unamused.

Yuta thinks back to all of the encounters he’s had with you and cringes slightly. “Listen, she was the one who was checking me out first-”

“Stupid.” Doyoung shakes his head before taking a sip of the water he’s drinking. “Some people take well to forwardness, but not her.”

“Are you sure? Because if she’s asked after me, I think that means she likes it.”

“I am going to spike a ball into your head, you-”

“Guys, calm down,” Sicheng says with a rather flat tone. Instantly, the two bickering boys stop, resorting to glaring at each other. Jaehyun gently shoves his roommate to get his attention and the room quickly returns to normal. Later, Doyoung passes Yuta a new bottle once his has run out, so he knows that the younger was never truly angry at him. The small party doesn’t go long into the night - tomorrow’s the first game of the season, after all - and, surprisingly, there isn’t much noise from their upstairs neighbor either.

That is mostly thanks to you. You had convinced your two party-addicted friends to attend someone else’s get together instead of hosting their own, so you ushered them out of the house at around ten in the evening. You know that they’ll come back fine in a few hours, rumpled and with their makeup half sweated off, buzzing with alcohol and the blaring music of whatever houseparty they were invited to, but you still tell them that your phone will be off of silent in case they need anything. Previous semesters, you might have gone with them, but, now, you just want to sleep so you can wake up early and go on your usual run.

The morning comes with your sleep uninterrupted by your roommates. After you awaken, instead of lying in bed and contemplating life for a while, you drag yourself up and to their rooms, where you find each of them peacefully asleep in their beds. Yein bothered to change out of her party clothes and into pajamas while Sowon didn’t, her dress half off of her shoulder and bunched up under her butt. Both of them are snoring away, hugging pillows and blankets.

The relief of seeing your roommates in good condition adds a spring to your step. A few minutes later, after you’ve stretched on the floor of your bedroom, you’re halfway out the outside door of the complex when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You know who it is even before you turn around.

“Y/N,” Yuta says, grinning much too brightly for how early it is. He doesn’t seem like he’s been out yet, which is strange. “Good morning.”

“Is it?” You lift an eyebrow.

“Perfectly!” As he talks, you begin to move farther out the door. Down one step. Down two steps. On the sidewalk. “Do you want to run together?”

“Shouldn’t you be just coming back from doing that?” You pull out your phone.

He quickly matches his stride to yours. “I decided to start running an hour later on the weekends. You know, sleep in a bit since I have the time.”

“I’m happy for you.” You select a song and put one ear of your headphones in.

“Are you coming tonight?”

“Didn’t I already answer that?” In all honesty, you feel like you should be more irritated with him than you actually are. He’s at least amusing to talk to. Plus, he stopped waking you up an hour early without you even promising to come to his game.

“Yeah, but then you asked Jaehyun about it.”

You stop moving, turning to look at him. He has another one of those infuriating smirks on his face and all of your previous enjoyment flies out the window. “Maybe I’m a huge fan of his.”

“What position does he play?”

“I don’t have to answer that!” Now, your face is already warming and you haven’t even begun your exercise. You turn away from him again and begin to slowly jog. “Bye, Yuta.”

“He’s a midfielder! And I’m a forward! You can see today at the game!” He calls after you as you get farther away, his voice getting more distant. Part of you feels bad for your neighbors - the windows aren’t exactly soundproof. You just wave a hand back at him in dismissal. A minute later, you look behind you. To your great relief, and mild surprise, he isn’t following you. He went the complete opposite direction.

“Will you guys please come with me? I promise some of the guys on the team are hot.” You tug on Sowon’s sleeve like a child does to their mother when they want something.

“I thought you hated college soccer because of your brother.” She flips a page in her textbook, scribbling down something in her notes.

“I don’t think this one will be so bad. Our team is supposed to be really good this year, right?” You look hopefully at her.

“How am I supposed to know? How is anyone supposed to know? Today is their first game.” She stops attempting to study, looking at you. “Also, I’m messing around. I’ll go with you.”

You look at your other roommate, who is in the middle of the very exhaustive task of sitting on your sofa and scrolling through her phone. She gives you a thumbs up. “As long as I can put on face paint!”

A couple hours later, you find yourselves in the bleachers surrounding the soccer field. It’s a modest stadium, not a stadium at all but just a normal soccer field with bleachers on either side and some decently sized flood lights for night usage. Not too far away is a moderately sized building that is a shared locker room space for all of the school’s athletic teams. Your school never invested much of its funds into soccer until recently, largely thanks to Yuta and some of the other members who are in their third or fourth year playing who made a name for your university in the sport. You also suspect that they probably talked the ear off of the provost so that he finally agreed to give them more funding, but that’s just a personal guess.

From your place on the home side of the bleachers, you have total vision of the field. Both teams are running warm-up drills and it’s easy enough to spot the people you know: someone from your physics class named Mingyu, someone you remember from a party named Baekho, and your lower neighbors, Jaehyun, Kun, and, of course, Yuta. His hair is pulled back from his face in a small ponytail at the back of his head and a small version of your university’s lion mascot stands out proudly on his red jersey.

You purposefully make a point to look for him last, only to find that he’s completely focused. Though it’s just shooting drills, he seems like he’s entirely in the zone, his eyes sharp and calculated. From what you can tell. The physical distance between you isn’t huge, but you can’t read his expressions that well from this angle.

The sharp scream of a whistle being blown indicates that there’s five minutes until the start of the game. The teams both do a bit of last minute stretching as they gather around the coach, a man you recognize as a biology professor. Finally, just as the clock hits six, they squeeze closer together, arms slung over each others’ shoulders in a tight circle, and do some sort of indistinct chant that ends in something like “Go Lions!”

After they break away, you can see the shift in atmosphere. Everyone is completely serious. It’s the first game of the season and they aren’t going to destroy the reputation they’ve built up for the last three years. You watch as Jaehyun moves to his position as a midfielder, Kun moves to his position as defense, and Yuta lines up in the position of forward center. A coin flip gives the kick-off to the away team, a school with a hawk mascot. Everyone shifts slightly on their feet and, for a moment, the world seems to be silent. The crowd leans forward in their seats.

Then, the whistle is blown.

The game gets to a roaring start. From how cautiously the other team is playing, they seem to know the reputation of the Lions - a team that shot up out of nowhere and suddenly has one of the best forwards in college soccer. You find yourself grinning as the ball barely makes it past your team’s defensive midfielder Mingyu before it’s in the Lions’ metaphorical hands. Your midfielders carefully juggle the ball between them, passing and passing and passing, before it reaches Jaehyun at center midfield. He does his job quickly and efficiently, making it almost look easy, and the ball meets the half-tip. From there, the ball is stolen by one of the Hawks’ defense at a failed pass to the second striker, Baekho. The ball shoots all the way to midfield.

For a few tense minutes, you watch the players run back and forth across the field, their eyes never leaving the target. The game pauses every so often when the ball gets kicked out of bounds, but it always resumes with just as much vigor. About a quarter of the way through the game, Yuta finally has his breakthrough. Jaehyun lands a kick directly in his direction, giving him the perfect opportunity. The strike is clean and so fast that you would have missed it if your eyes weren’t glued to the movements of the ball. All of the people on your side of the bleachers launch to their feet in roaring cheers as the ball sails past the opponent goalie’s right side and into the net. You’re standing alongside everyone else, your hands cupped around your mouth as you yell in excitement. It’s not often that you see such a well done shot from a college team.

The boil of the crowd’s blood dies down a bit as the game continues, but soars back up whenever something particularly exciting happens. In the third quarter, the Hawks manage to land a goal on your team, but Yuta comes in clutch a few minutes later and scores two easy goals almost one after the other. The final score is deeply satisfying at 3:1.

The opposing team try to be good sports about it, but they’re obviously sulking when they shake your team’s hands. After they break away, they’re all gloriously sweaty, which you’re sure Sowon is excited about. Some of the spectators immediately rush out of the stands and make their way down, friends and significant others of the players, you presume. Part of you wants to go down there and be a part of the excitement. Luckily enough, a distraction comes in the form of some of your other neighbors before you’re forced to make any decisions.

“Hey, Yein, Sowon, Y/N!”

When you turn, you see Johnny and Doyoung approaching. Yein stiffens slightly and you nearly start laughing at your friend’s embarrassed behavior. Sowon greets them first. “Hi, guys.”

“I didn’t know you guys were into soccer?” Johnny asks, his eyes shifting easily from Sowon to you to Yein, where they remain.

“Not really! But Y/N wanted to go today.” In her nervousness, Yein easily exposes you.

“I wasn’t the only one who wanted to go,” you huff, crossing your arms. Doyoung and Johnny exchange a look that makes you want to change the subject. “I guess you guys are here to support some friends?”

“Yup, Yuta, Kun, and Jaehyun,” Doyoung says, looking towards the field, where some of their other friends are already gathered around the star player. “They played really well. It’ll be a good season.”

“I hope so,” Sowon says, also watching.

“Well, we don’t want to keep you guys from them,” you say, wanting to eject yourself from the conversation before it turns in a different direction. To your displeasure, Johnny is a master of knowing exactly what you don’t want and then doing it anyways. You’ve never really talked to him before, but it seems that he’s similar to Yuta in that way.

“Why don’t we all go say hi?” The tall boy says, grinning. “You guys can tell me how those cookies were, too.”

There is no escape. Now, as you follow them down the bleachers, you reflect Yein in a way. She no longer looks quite as nervous, eagerly chatting with Johnny, while you grow increasingly more fidgety. It’s not that you don’t want to talk to Yuta. You just don’t want to give in to whatever game the two of you silently decided you were playing.

Then again, it is much more fun to play along than it is to outright reject him. Plus, today’s actual game was good. You’ll give him that.

Trying to seem as nonchalant as possible, you join the small crowd surrounding Yuta. If you thought he glowed normally, he absolutely shines now. There’s something about him being in his element at the very top of his game that makes you forget your irritation with him for a moment. In that instant, he’s a star. In that instant, he reminds you of your brother. Then, he spots you and opens his mouth.

“Y/N!” As he calls out to you, the girl he was talking to before you arrived seems perturbed, but he ignores her, pushing his way closer to you. “You actually came.”

You turn your nose up at him slightly. “No one ever said it was for you.”

“Of course not. You and I both know the truth, though.” The wink is nowhere near subtle or sly and you scoff at him. He seems unbothered. “This was your first Lions game, right? Did you enjoy it?”

You nod hesitantly. “I heard you guys were good, but I didn’t know how good. You played a near perfect game.”

The self-satisfied smile drops from his face. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“What do you mean?” Tilting your head, you match his somewhat grim face.

“There’s always better plays to make, better places to have been. You know.” He quickly tries to play it off like he’s uninterested rather than deeply bothered. You’re not sure you know what the truth is. You haven’t talked to him nearly enough to know. This is the first hint of something serious that he’s shown you. It almost makes you want to talk to him more to find out.

“Dude, shut up, you’re good.” From the side, Johnny butts in, elbowing his friend. You’re glad for the interruption, as you once again didn’t know what to say. The mood raises, with some of Yuta’s friends reenacting the best parts of the game, joking about his long hair, betting on what next week’s game will look like. A few minutes later, the Lions’ coach shouts for all of the team members to go shower and get changed, so the crowd slowly disperses.

After you’re alone with your roommates, Sowon and Yein can’t help but give you playful shoves as you walk home. Sowon is the first to verbalize her amusement. “I thought you hated him?”

You grumble under your breath, not saying anything in particular.

“You played a near perfect game.” Yein mimics, making your face burn.

“I do not sound like that! Also, I know a good game when I see one and I know when to admit it!” You kick your shoe against the pavement as they giggle at you.

From then on, it seems like you run into Yuta far too often for your own good. Every few days, you bump into him when you’re either about to go run or when you’re coming back from running. When you go with Yein to return Johnny’s cookie container, Yuta is in his apartment, lounging on the sofa and chatting with Jungwoo, your third volleyball neighbor. Once, when you’re studying at the school library because you need a change of scenery from your apartment, he runs into you. That time, you snap at him.

“Are you stalking me or something?”

He places a hand over his heart, pretending to be offended.  “What do you mean? If anything you’re the one stalking me. I come here every Thursday after practice to study.” He huffs. “If you’re talking about when I was in Johnny’s apartment, I was already there before you even arrived. Unless you’re accusing me of being psychic, too.”

Your shoulders slowly lower at the guilt you feel. Cringing slightly, you raise your hands in apology. “I didn’t mean to imply…” You sigh. “Sorry. Can I buy you a coffee or something to apologize?”

Only after Yuta’s mock hurt shifts to a triumphant look do you realize the implications of your words. You’re really on a roll with implications today. He grins. “If you really want to.”

As you pack up your things, Yuta tells the few teammates he had come to study with that he’s going, and you walk out of the library side by side. Luckily, he actually makes for easy conversation and good company. You don’t know why he insists on the flirting and cockiness in your shorter interactions. As you walk to the campus coffee shop, you learn that he’s a studio art major. He learns that you’re a physical therapy major. You learn that he’s taking a statistics class that you had already previously taken - he put it off while you got it done in your first year - and, without thinking, you offer to help him if he needs it. After you order both of your coffees, finding out that he likes a lighter roast, you sit at a table in the shop with him. Silence comes and goes as both of you do some of the studying that you intended to do at the library. Every so often, he asks you a question. Usually, you answer him. You always return with a question of your own. You find out that his favorite of the bands that he used to blast through the floor is One Ok Rock.

“Sorry,” he finally says, appearing genuinely remorseful with the sheepish look on his face, “I didn’t have upstairs neighbors last year. I didn’t know you could hear it through the floor.”

“It’s fine. Sorry I snapped at you back then.”

It’s very strange to be on perfectly good terms with Nakamoto Yuta.

A few days later, when your brother sends you a ticket for the local professional soccer team, the Ravens, you almost feel like you should ask for a second so you can bring Yuta. Figuring it would be too much to ask, you plan to go by yourself, thankful that the game falls on a day the Lions aren’t playing. Plus, you can’t imagine what your roommates would say if you chose to go out of your way to take him with you.

You’ve taken to hanging out with the long-haired center forward, helping him with his math when he needs it and just… generally enjoying his company. That doesn’t mean you’re all sugar and smiles to him - it’s much more fun to mess around a little, make him think that you don’t like him quite as much as you actually do. The only thing you can think of that would personally offend him would be to say you’re going to one of his games and then failing to do so.

On the bus ride over to the stadium where the Ravens are playing, you’re thankful that you don’t recognize anyone from your school. You’re in the team’s colors, silver and forest green, and it would be clear to anyone where you’re going. Only after you get off of the bus do you realize just how many came to watch. The stadium is full, packed to almost capacity. That’s probably why your brother hadn’t gotten you tickets earlier - all of them were taken. He probably gave tickets to the earlier games to your parents. They would have thrown a fit if he had only invited you earlier, even if you are his favorite.

As you make your way to your seat, you remark on how strange it is to see your last name printed on the backs of the shirts of a bunch of strangers. The vibe of the crowd is completely different from that at your school’s field. While college students are excitable and energetic, these spectators are rabid. At any moment, there’s one hundred people yelling, someone trying to start a chant, someone screaming just for the sake of it. The air is buzzing with the anticipation of the crowd.

There’s a moment of sudden thick silence, like the moment before a dam is about to burst, where the crowd is silent. Then, both teams are stepping out onto the field and the stadium explodes. In the middle of the line of the eleven Ravens players, like he’s trying to blend in even though half of the crowd is chanting his name, is your brother. There’s a coin flip and it’s decided that the Ravens will start. He gets into his position, forward center, and the audience takes another breath.

You’re on the edge of your seat. Half of the game you’re standing. There’s a thrill about the experience that makes you so invigorated and proud beyond belief. If it had been strange seeing your last name on the backs of fans’ jerseys, it’s just as weird hearing the announcer say your brother’s name as he scores. If Yuta had been residual starshine, your brother is a shot of pure gold. He has long given up trying to make himself small where he glows the brightest, smiling as the whistle is blown for halftime. His teammates slap each other on the back when they go for water. Just as the game is about to resume, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket once. You figure that whoever is texting you can wait.

The other team makes a comeback in the second half, scoring on the Ravens and tying the score. You feel a bit bad for the goalie, a guy you know as Kim Yongsuk, who your brother had introduced you to in the past. He’s probably beating himself up over it. Still, the team doesn’t falter, doesn’t repeat their mistakes. It’s a hard game - from how close you are, you can almost see everyone breathing hard. Finally, with just a few minutes left to spare, the ball travels smoothly from the Ravens’ defensive line, to the midfielders, to the offense. Once it’s in your brother’s possession, it’s over. He shoots and he scores.

To be fair to the other team, they try to recover, but it’s just not enough. Time is called and it ends 2:1. The Ravens have won. You find yourself clapping and cheering with the other fans, shouting your elation to the huge stadium. As things begin to wind down and the teams shake hands, people begin to trickle out of the stadium. A satisfied hum is in the air, leaving a smile on your face, too. Perhaps soccer games are the reason you like parties, too. The warm, excited atmosphere, the noise, forgetting about the outside world to become absorbed in something else.

Finally, reality calls again after all of the players filter out to their respective locker rooms. You pull out your phone, about to send a text to your brother. However, when your phone comes to life, the first thing you see is a text from Yuta.

NaYu: Are you at the Ravens game??

An instant later, right on cue, you hear his voice. “Y/N!” Upon looking up, he’s bounding down the aisles towards you, also donning forest green and silver. Watching him weave through the rest of the people trying to leave, you wouldn’t be surprised if he would have slid down the railing if there weren’t other people there. Nonetheless, it doesn’t take long for him to reach you. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Why not?” You tilt your head, smiling slightly. You’re in too good of a mood to outright lie to him.

He blinks. “I thought you hated watching soccer.”

You hold your hands behind your back, swaying playfully. For once, he’s the confused one. “I don’t know what gave you that impression. I really enjoy seeing the Ravens play.”

“But… you said…” He furrows his eyebrows. “Didn’t you say you’ve seen enough soccer games to last your whole life already, or something?” “I changed my mind.” Your phone buzzes in your hand.

B/N: You still in the stands? I’m coming up.

At that, you freeze. Yuta nudges you. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” You’ve kept the fact that your brother is the Ravens’ star striker away from everyone, besides your roommates, and you can’t even begin to imagine how Yuta would react if he found how. What would he think of you? “You can head out without me, Yuta. I’m waiting for someone.” The concerned expression doesn’t leave his face. “Are you sure? It’s kind of late-”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine, I’m-”

“Y/N!”

You turn just in time to see your brother jumping the gate blocking off the entrance to the field from the stands. Most of the stadium has cleared out by now, ushered out by staff, leaving very few people. Your brother has a hoodie on with his team’s colors, the hood up and partially blocking his face from distant onlookers nonetheless. You cringe internally as he jogs up to you, not seeming tired at all, and you greet him as he engulfs you in a warm hug. “Hi, B/N.”

“I’m glad you could make it. It’s not often that I get to play for my favorite sibling.” You’re looking at your brother, but you’re sure that Yuta has a shocked look on his face as he connects the dots. Now that your brother has directly stated who he is to you, there’s no avoiding it. He looks past you and realizes that you’re not alone. “Who’s this?”

“I…” Now that you’re actually looking at Yuta, you realize he’s entirely starstruck. He looks like he’s stuck in one place, his eyes wider than normal and full of awe.

You take over for him. “This is Yuta. He’s my friend from school and our team’s center forward.”

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m B/N! Since Y/N finally decided to show her face at her own team’s games, I heard you guys are doing well this year. Go Lions!” He raises a fist, giving Yuta a sunny smile.

Yuta blinks hard, looking almost like he might pass out. “Y-yeah. We’re doing alright, I guess. Thank you for your support.” He reflexively dips into a shallow bow, making your brother chuckle.

“You don’t have to be so formal. Any friend of Y/N’s is a friend of mine.” He elbows you not-so-gently. “Y/N! Tell me next time you want to bring him. I’ll throw in a second ticket.”

Yuta unfreezes a bit and looks at you. “You don’t bring Yein or Sowon?”

You shrug. “I don’t like to bring only one of them. It feels unfair to the other.”

“Still, I’m glad to see that you’re not lying about having at least one friend.” Your brother gives you a wicked grin and heat fills your cheeks.

“I have friends!” You insist, clenching your fists at your side.

“Do you?” Yuta teases, making you press your lips together in a look of indignation.

Before you can counter him, your brother interjects. “I hate to part with the two of you, but I have to leave.” He steps back, waving a hand at the two of you. “See you!” “I hope you stub your toe on the way out!” You shout back at him as he retreats.

“Hey, this toe is worth a lot of money! Love you, too!”

There’s a period of silence as you watch your brother disappear. Yuta clears his throat. “Do you want to go back?”

“Yeah.” You follow him wordlessly for a while, making your way out of the stadium. He walks by your side, his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t seem upset, just a bit shocked still. As you approach the bus stop, you finally speak up. “Did you come with anyone else?”

“Some of the guys from the team. I told them to go ahead without me so I could talk to you.” Of all the things he’s ever said, that makes your heart feel strange. A tiny flutter of a butterfly’s wings, if you will.

Then, as you make it to the bus shelter, you turn to him, grabbing onto the edge of his sleeve. “Yuta, promise you won’t be weird after this?”

He blinks, not fighting your grip. “Why would I be weird?”

“Just… I don’t really tell people about my brother. I don’t want you to think any differently about me because of it.” This level of vulnerability isn’t something you usually show and it feels foreign, unfamiliar. When you told Sowon and Yein about it, it didn’t feel this way. Yet, standing under the shelter with Yuta, his deep green sleeve in your hand, his eyes on yours, the light of the city falling faintly on your faces, you feel your heart pound even harder in your chest.

“I already liked you before I ever knew that.” He reaches up oh so slowly. You don’t know what he’s going to do. Touch your cheek, pat your head, kiss you? Before you can find out, the bus pulls up with a loud exhale, spewing exhaust. The doors open and the driver looks at you expectantly as you turn and get in. Yuta follows you, silent. Both of you pay your dues and sit down, side by side, his sleeve brushing yours.

You know exactly what it is about him that drives you insane. At the same time, you have no idea. While you don’t want things to be different with him after tonight, you also desperately wish for the opposite. You’re tempted to slap yourself in the face to try and wake yourself up from whatever strange dream you’re happening, but you don’t know how the boy next to you would react.

The ride passes excruciatingly slowly, as does the short walk back to your complex. Finally, as you’re standing in the stairwell, about to part ways with him, he speaks. “Do you want to study together tomorrow?”

At that, such a normal suggestion, you smile. “Sure.”

He reflects your expression. It’s a familiar look on him, which you’re grateful for. “I’ll text you. Goodnight, Y/N.”

The next day is entirely ordinary. It’s like the previous night never happened. Yuta is perfectly normal, perfectly flirty, perfectly infuriating. In fact, the entire week after is normal. You go to the Lions game, cheer on your neighbors, and pretend to be difficult with Yuta after the game. He’s always so hard on himself after his games, remarking on what he believes are the many things he could have done differently to play a better game, despite scoring all of the team’s goals and securing wins every time. You hope that you talking to him afterwards raises his spirits just as much as you enjoy it.

Then, one Saturday, you’re out running when Yuta jogs up to you. Once again, he scares the shit out of you, making you nearly trip. “Hey, Y/N.”

You tear out your headphones, giving him a look. “Have you tried not jumpscaring me?”

The shrug he gives you looks strange, as he’s jogging slowly next to you when he attempts to emote. “It’s kind of funny.” You grumble under breath about showing him what’s funny, and he continues. “Do you want to run together on the weekends?”

“This again?” You say, frowning.

He rolls his eyes. “Listen, I know you’re lonely. Since you come out to my games, I thought I should do you some sort of favor in return.”

“I also help you with your statistics homework.”

“Anyways, you’re in luck because I also don’t have a running partner. It’s a lot easier to set a pace and keep moving if you have someone with you.”

You know he’s right, but it doesn’t make you feel any better. When you’re running, you’re at your most vulnerable - sweaty, tired, out of your element. There’s plenty of reasons you shouldn’t want him to run with you. “You have to run so much faster than I do. I would just slow you down.”

“Not really,” he says, looking at your feet as you jog next to him, “see? We’re both doing fine right now.”

You realize that he’s right. You keep moving wordlessly for a minute, until you speak quietly. “Would you really not mind?”

You focus on his hair bouncing as he takes each step for a while before you look at his face. In the morning sunlight, he gives you a pure smile. “Not at all.”

On Saturdays and Sundays, he’s waiting for you just outside of the complex at seven in the morning with his hair tied up to keep it out of his eyes. He easily matches his pace to yours. He’s always much more awake at that hour than you are, but the quiet encouragement he whispers whenever you slow down help perk you up. It takes you a little while to realize that he’s doing something very similar for you to what you do for him after his games.

It’s a cloudy Sunday morning. Usually, you don’t talk a ton while you’re running together, but it seems that his curiosity has gotten the best of him. “What made you want to start running?”

“Hm?” You hum, snapped out of the world that was just your feet thudding against the ground and the sound of your breathing in your ears. “Do I have to have a reason?”

“People usually don’t just randomly start doing it. Maybe they want to get stronger or lose weight. Maybe they want to impress someone.”

“It’s not about impressing anyone. I’m doing this for me.” You say it firmly, confidently. His pace stutters and he watches you continue forward. There’s something in your voice that makes him incapable of moving, and all he can do is stare at you for a moment, his heart speeding up in his chest for reasons other than the running you’re doing. When you realize he isn’t following, you turn towards him, jogging in place. The way your face is illuminated by the sunlight being cast upon it makes him sure he’s never met someone as incredible as you before in his life. “Are you coming?”

You don’t know what’s up with him. His expression is something you’ve never seen but can’t quite place. He catches up in a few bounds and you resume your run.

The next Friday, you receive a strange text.

Unknown Number: Hey, is this Y/N?

You contemplate whether or not you should respond, but you get a second text.

Unknown Number: This is Mingyu from physics

Now, that’s strange. You start to type out a reply.

Y/N: Hi! What’s up?

Kim Mingyu: I was wondering if you could help me with the lab report from last Friday? I’m having some trouble

Y/N: Sure, do you want to meet in the library later?

Meeting up with someone who you’ve never really talked to before is strange. Mingyu tries to joke with you, but something about them falls flat. You try your best to laugh and help him anyways, figuring it’s just stiffness from interacting with someone new. Though it’s nice to finally have a physics buddy, you’re almost relieved when you go home.

As you approach your complex, you see a small group formed on the lawn outside. Sicheng and Ten are standing on one leg, holding the other leg up and trying to knock each other down. A small smile comes to your face when you realize that Yuta is in the group, cheering for his friends. Around the same time you see him, he sees you and his eyes light up. He’s quickly getting to his feet and bounding towards you. Taeyong calls after him with a frown. “Yuta, you’re next!”

Still, he sidles up next to you as you walk closer to the circle. “Y/N! Where are you coming from?”

“Just the library. Actually, I was meeting up with one of your teammates, Mingyu. We were working on physics.”

The smile he wears twitches downwards for a moment. “I didn’t know you had a class with him.”

“It wasn’t worth mentioning. I never talked to him before today.” You shrug, shifting the backpack on your shoulders. “What are you guys doing?”

“One-legged fight. You should join.” He suddenly has a sadistic gleam in his eye and you take a tiny step away from him.

“And give you an excuse to push me on the ground? No thanks.”

“Aw, Y/N, I’m hurt. You don’t think I would just push you if I really wanted to?” At his proclamation, you shake your head, trying to force down a smile but failing miserably. “I’m kidding, of course. I would never.”

It’s almost sunset and he looks glorious in the golden light, the sun reflecting off of his dark hair and making his eyelashes cast long shadows on his cheekbones. If you were bolder, you might say something about it. Instead, you let out a snort of laughter, looking away from him. From the circle a few yards away, cheers erupt. Ten is curled on the ground, dramatically bemoaning his loss to Sicheng, who stands proudly over him. Taking that as his cue, Yuta gives you a small wave and rejoins his group.

When you enter your apartment with a small, content smile on your face, Yein looks up from her cooking. “Good day?”

“You could say that.”

The next morning, thankfully, is a Saturday. Yuta is waiting for you, looking just as fine in the morning sun as he did in the evening rays. He’s stretching as you approach him. “It looks like it’ll be good weather for the match today.”

“It better be.” He says it lightheartedly, but you can really imagine him threatening the weather. He’s told you that he hates the rain, partly because it makes it unpleasant to play but also just because it dampens his mood. The team is lucky they’ve gotten good weather for the season so far.

As you’re running, you remember what something you needed to ask Yuta about. “Hey, are you free on Wednesday night? My brother offered me two tickets for his game.”

His eyes light up. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head, trying to keep your pace steady. “He said he would pull through, so he did. You made a good impression on him.”

“I am totally free. Completely. Did I tell you how free I am that day?” The child-like excitement in his voice makes you smile in return.

“Wow, with how not free you are, I guess I should invite someone else,” you tease and he lets out an uncharacteristic whine.

“Y/N, I know you’re messing with me, but if you take someone else after asking me, I will never forgive you.”

Now it’s your turn to pretend to be offended. “I see how much our friendship means to you, Mr. Nakamoto.”

He sighs dramatically, bringing a hand to his forehead as he acts like he’s going to faint. “You’re so serious.”

You stick out your tongue at him. “You’re such a fanboy.”

“I can’t help it. Your brother is just so cool. I don’t know how you don’t try to hang out with him literally all the time.”

That gives you pause. You feel your feet connect with the earth repeatedly for a minute, thinking about your brother and your complicated but not complicated relationship. You trust Yuta with so many things, so you may as well tell him. “A few weeks ago, when I said I was only doing this for me, I lied. Just a little.” You say, not looking at him. You’ve never really admitted it out loud before. “I want to get good enough to run with my brother. I almost never see him these days, but if I can start getting up to run with him sometimes… it’ll be like when we were kids. Or something. I don’t know.”

“He’s important enough to you that you want to change something about your life to spend more time with him,” Yuta says quietly, keeping pace with you. “I hope he knows how much you care about him.”

“You don’t always need to change to show you love someone. That’s why it was only partly a lie when I said I’m only doing this for myself.” You flash Yuta a smile, which he returns. Though your lungs burn and your legs ache, the air you breathe in is cool and fresh. “I’ll race you back.”

His eyes flash. “Challenge accepted.”

The next time you see Yuta is later that day, at his game. He’s serious, as usual, in the zone. As the season goes on, the bleachers fill up more and more with students eager to see the Lions throw sparks. The games continually get harder, but they manage to clutch this one out with a final score of 3:2.

Despite the win, Yuta still seems somewhat down. Afterwards, you’re about to go up to him to describe the glorious moment when he slid between two of the opponent defenders and scored, but you’re stopped by a heavy hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, Y/N.” To your surprise, Mingyu is the one approaching you. He doesn’t take his hand away.

“Oh! Mingyu, hi.” You try to smile at him, but your eyes wander over to Yuta briefly. “Good game today! You guys played solidly.”

“Ha, thanks. Could’ve been better on my part, I’m always looking to improve, you know.”

“I get it,” you respond, nodding.

“Are you possibly free on Wednesday night? We have a lab due on Friday and I just think it would be easier to do if we can work together, ya know?”

“Oh, um, I’m actually busy then.” You force yourself to not look at Yuta. “Does Thursday night work instead?”

“Sure, whatever. I’ll see you then.” The way he squeezes your shoulder once before stepping away to talk to some of his own friends makes your stomach turn. Why is he being so… weird?

Shaking your head, you turn back to who you had intended to greet in the first place, only to find that he had been looking at you already. What’s with the look in his eyes? Why is everyone being so weird? Ignoring the feeling, you join his circle. Yuta moves closer to your side, his arm looping around your waist as he does so, pulling you in slightly. The touch is brief but intimate, sending a bolt of electricity through your body. You swear that you can almost feel the heat of his skin through your clothes. Then, his arm is back at his side like nothing happened. You want to speak up, say what you were planning on saying before, get your mind back on a normal track, but you find that Johnny, Ten, and Jungwoo are already recreating the scene, making Yuta smile through the veil of whatever emotions he’s experiencing right now.

When the entire team heads over to the locker rooms to clean off the shine of sweat and dirt that had been accumulated through the game, you can’t help watching him. As he goes, you catch flashes of his smile while he congratulates his teammates. Something stirs in your heart.

That night, you dream of healing smiles dressed in a lion’s mane of black hair. That same visage is waiting for you the next morning when you go out to run but, here outside of your head, he’s solid, real, more than heated touches and soft caresses. At the same time, he is those things. Or, so you wish him to be.

When you study with him the next night, he is as he usually is, theoretically. Sometimes it feels like his eyes linger longer than usual, his hand rests a little closer, he smiles a little wider. It’s nothing you can confirm because, to any normal gaze, he seems entirely the same. Perhaps you’re confusing yourself into imagining things. Has his flirtatious nature finally tricked your brain into thinking he likes you?

Sometime that evening, you go to the bathroom and stare at yourself in the mirror. You pat your face rather harshly to try and drive some sense back into your brain. You should tell him. This new boy who has become so close to you. Why are you afraid of it going wrong? You emerge from the bathroom with the same feelings that you entered it with and, there he is, looking up at your return.

The next day, Tuesday is a brief reprieve from the torture of trying to figure out his feelings through his actions. Then, your brother’s game comes. Your chatter fills the space between you on the bus ride to the stadium, him telling you about the anime he’s watching, you talking about the drama you’re watching in response. He jokes about culturing you by getting you to watch a show with him.

Watching your brother’s game with Yuta at your side is an entirely different experience. While you think you normally have pretty good commentary on your own, he provides an extra edge, excitedly explaining why some players choose to do some things or making observations about small moves that you ordinarily wouldn’t notice. Both of you absorb the atmosphere of the stadium, bursting into cheers whenever something incredible happens, screaming extra loud when your brother scores.

During halftime, when the roar of the audience is less deafening, you realize that you’ve never asked Yuta about his background with soccer before. You nudge him. “Hey, Yuta? How long have you been playing?”

He taps his chin, trying to think back. “Probably since I was five?”

“No wonder you know so much,” you say, “I’m talking to an expert right now.”

“You know too much for just a casual viewer,” he says back, snorting, “don’t tell me you don’t have some experience.”

“I only played a bit when I was younger, but I wasn’t any good. It was always more fun to watch B/N. I ended up just taking care of him whenever he pulled something or fell and scraped his arm… you know.” A wistful smile forms on your face. “It started off as just kissing bruises like my mom would, but then it turned into intense Googling whenever I couldn’t immediately figure out what was wrong with him.”

“Maybe you can kiss my boo-boos whenever I get hurt, too, then.” He’s smirking, the ever-familiar gleam of mischief in his gaze.

You force yourself to roll your eyes at him, ignoring the feeling of your heart jumping in your chest. “You’d better not get hurt, Nakamoto.”

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

A few minutes later, the game resumes. This matchup is considerably more difficult than the game you had attended before. Each time the Ravens seem like they’re close to scoring, the opponent defense sends it back towards your end of the field or the goalie successfully blocks it. All the same, your defense and goalie do their jobs, too, leading to a brutal back and forth. By the time the game is over, the only goal that had been scored was the single one your brother got in the first half.

“Ah, that was tense. They almost took it back there for a second.” You stand, stretching your arms behind your back to loosen them up a bit. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, sure.” Yuta gets up as well, following you as you begin to climb the stairs. “Is your brother not coming to see you this time?”

“He told me he has some press deal after this.” Once you’re in a more open area, Yuta walks next to you instead of behind. You can now see that he’s frowning.

“Does he keep you a secret on purpose?”

“I asked him to.”

“I can’t imagine keeping someone like you hidden like that.” At that strange comment, you stop, looking at him. He seems to be taking the issue very personally.

“It’s easier this way. No one prying into my life, no one asking me for autographs from him all the time. People know who our parents are. What’s so important about an unknown sister?” Is there something else he wants you to say? The look on his face is something you’ve only seen maybe once or twice. He’s in a strange mood, that’s for sure.

“I get it, it’s just…” He sighs, looking at the ground with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“Yuta.” He finally meets your eyes. “It’s important to me that what people think about me is what I show them first. I don’t want to be a reflection of my brother, no matter how much I love him.”

“Is he the reason you didn’t want to talk to me at first?” There’s amusement in Yuta’s voice again, that strange seriousness gone.

You start to walk again and he keeps pace. “No, that was just because you woke me up at six in the morning.”

“I guess both of us have experiences that precede our reputations then, huh?”

The bus comes not much later. The previous reminder of how you met has him offering you one side of his earbuds, saying that this would be a better introduction to J-rock than the one you had before. As you listen, you’re tempted to lean your head against his shoulder or take his hand, which is resting oh so close to yours. Instead, you just sit still and look out the window.

After you get off of the bus, the topic of shows you both like makes a return.

“I will take it upon myself to expose you to great art. Are you free tomorrow? We have to start immediately.” Yuta begins to pester you, practically bouncing as you walk.

“Actually, I’m busy tomorrow. I’m working on physics with Mingyu again.” He doesn’t initially not react to your first statement. However, when his teammate’s name comes out of your mouth, he frowns.

“Of anyone…” The sudden change in his attitude catches you off guard. “Why him?”

“I don’t choose who’s in my classes. What’s wrong with you? I thought you got along with your teammates.” You’re nearing your complex at this point. The lamp posts bordering the sidewalk cast long shadows on the ground as you walk.

“In a team context, they’re fine. Usually. Just, that guy…” He’s scowling now, making you frown deeply in return.

“What about him?”

“I don’t know, Y/N.” He pauses, but then his feet stop moving a moment later. “Fuck it, I do know. He’s not a good person. He’s a manipulator. He’s a good manipulator, but he’s bad at lying when you actually confront him-”

“Yuta, you’re being ridiculous. Even if he is, I’m strong enough to take care of myself.”

“Y/N, he was with me at that first game! The one where I found out about your brother? What if he saw? He’s the type to use information like that to get what he wants. What if he-”

“What if he what, Yuta?” You glare at him, anger muddled with some other hurt now filling you. “He hasn’t done anything. He isn’t going to do anything. Our ‘secret’ isn’t going to get out. I can take care of myself.”

With that, you brush past him, into the complex, into your apartment. Thankfully, your roommates aren’t in the common area, so you safely make it to your room. Once you’re there, you shove your face into your pillow. You consider screaming into it, but you know he’s probably in his own room, where he could hear you. Instead, you just heave breath after frustrated breath.

You don’t know why you snapped at him. Actually, you do. It’s the fear that he’s actually doing what he accused Mingyu of. After every word you’ve exchanged, every conversation, you should be confident that he’s not like that. But, you’ve never been in this situation before. What if he…

It’s a stupid notion and you know it. That’s just the surface. Another layer of your feelings peels away. You hate when people are too protective of you. You want to make your own decisions, to learn for yourself. You hate when your brother is too protective of you and you hate when Yuta is.

That’s not even all of it. Finally, you reach the root of your aggression. What right does Nakamoto Yuta have to try and be protective of you when you aren’t even together? Was that the concern of a friend or the concern of a jealous lover?

You curl in on yourself even more tightly, breathing through the pillow under your face. No one has ever flirted with you as much as he has. You’ve never been so ridiculously on and off with someone before. Still, neither of you are willing to answer the question. You’ve never actually fought like this with him before.

Perhaps he hates you now that you’ve thrown his warnings back in his face.

The next day, after your classes, you force yourself to go to the library to meet Mingyu, Yuta’s words heavy in your mind. As you work, you can tell he’s still trying desperately to get on your good side, even emanating Yuta in a strange, off-balance way. It’s not amusing when he does it.

Finally, the subject you’ve been dreading comes.

“Are you a fan of the Ravens? I think I saw you at one of their games once.”

You swallow back disappointment. Mingyu is the worst fear of your insecure self and you finally have to come face to face with it. “I guess you could say that.”

To your surprise, he doesn’t take it farther than that. If Yuta’s right about him, then it’s probably just one piece of a larger goal. Though you never cared much for Mingyu, it doesn’t feel good to see things begin to unfold.

Not seeing him for two days in a row brings your mood down more than you’d like to admit. At the same time, you’re not ready to apologize yet. You don’t know what exactly is happening on his end, you never know, so when you go outside to run at your normal time on Saturday, you half expect him to be there.

He isn’t. And you don’t run into him on your way back, either. The game it is, then.

As the day progresses, the sky gets increasingly cloudy. In the evening, when the Lions and their opponent team are out on the field running final drills, it’s easy enough to tell that a good number of people had looked at the forecast - the crowd in the bleachers is much thinner than usual. The sky could open up and pour its soul out onto all of you at any moment.

You don’t even bother pretending that you’re not watching Yuta. As he steps off the field for their usual pre-game pep talk and chant, you swear he makes eye contact with you. Normally, he wouldn’t even bother looking, because he’s usually confident that you’re there. You’re not sure what the look in his eyes is now.

The coin toss decides that the other team will start with the ball. That might have been the first omen about the game. Then again, maybe the other team is just… better. Their defense is at least tighter than yours. At halftime, they have a point up on the Lions, 0:1. Yuta seems to take this very, very personally. Within ten minutes of the game restarting, they tie the score back up.

At about three quarters of the way through, it begins to rain. The referee deems that they’ve played far to stop, so the match continues. Almost like they take the poor weather as a sign, the rival team scores nearly immediately after.

You pathetically huddle under a single umbrella with Sowon while Yein shares one with Johnny. The ball slips rather than flies around the field, back and forth, back and forth, until, finally, with barely any time to spare, it’s at Yuta’s feet. The world seems to move in slow motion, then. His right foot moves backwards. It swings forwards. He makes contact.

He misses.

You try not to gasp. Yuta himself seems to be in shock, with how he goes stiff for a moment. Then, he’s back in action, targeting where the goalie had thrown the ball. This time, it’s not enough. A minute later, after another brutal back and forth, the scream of the whistle soars above the sound of the rain. It’s over. The Lions have met their first loss of the season.

The two teams barely wait around to shake hands before they’re rushing off to the locker rooms, away from the rain. Yuta moves slower than the rest, seeming to drag his feet through the muddying grass. Ahead of him, all of his teammates are moving quickly, but moping nonetheless. From your position, you see Mingyu kick the shins of someone you recognize to be one of the younger players. You see Kun’s mouth move as he tells him off, but they’re far enough away and the rain is loud enough that you can’t hear. If you hadn’t been displeased already, you are now.

Might as well kill two birds with one stone, right?

“You guys can go back,” you say, taking a step out from under the umbrella after you’re out of the bleachers with your friends. When Sowon tries to shove her umbrella in your hands, you push it back. “I’ll be fine! It’s only a short distance.”

She narrows her eyes. “You’re going to catch a cold.”

“Don’t worry.” With a sigh, she turns, reluctantly walking back behind Yein and Johnny.

You take off running, trying to outpace the raindrops pelting you. By the time you make it beneath the slight sheltered roof of the locker room building, you’re damp, but not entirely soaked. It’s enough to be an annoyance, your clothes sticking slightly to your skin.

You wait outside for a good few minutes. Small groups of players from either team leave, the opponent players giving you strange looks as you lean against the wall and shiver, Baekho and his group giving you an awkward acknowledgement, and, finally, Mingyu emerges.

“Y/N?” He seems confused, but somewhat excited. As if you’re there to meet him.

“Mingyu. Answer one question for me.” You say it wearily, expressing it like the chore it is.

“What are you acting so weird for?” The excitement you glimpsed before dies.

“Were you going to use me to get in good with my brother?”

The rain is the only sound you hear for a couple solid heartbeats. “Y/N, listen…”

“He was right…” You grumble to yourself. You glare up at him. “You can do your physics labs by yourself. Delete my number.”

He stands before you for a moment more before he realizes that you’re serious. He turns and walks away, into the haze of the downpour. A minute later, Jaehyun and Kun emerge from the building.

“Oh, Y/N,” Jaehyun says, seeming surprised. “Are you waiting for Yuta?”

“Is it that obvious?”

The two of them exchange looks and smile. Kun speaks next. “He’s probably not coming out for a while. He usually gets all depressed when we lose a game, but I’ve never seen it this bad. He’s been standing in the shower for like fifteen minutes.”

You glance at the door. Jaehyun nudges you. “He’s the only one left in there. I wouldn’t tell anyone if you, say, went in right now.”

“A bonafide cupid right here,” Kun says, swinging the bag he has slung over his shoulder around so he can dig through it. He produces something, offering it to you. “Here.”

“What is…” You trail off as you take it from him, your face warming as you realize exactly what it is. “Kun, what is this?!”

“I don’t want any miniature versions of him running around. I’m always prepared.” You stare at Kun incredulously a beat longer before you shove the condom in your damp pocket.

“Good luck!” Jaehyun calls back to you as they begin to walk off, leaving you standing under the overhang. Taking a deep breath, you push open the door and walk inside.

Unsurprisingly, the place has a somewhat sweaty smell to it. The rows of lockers are labeled with names and a little image depicting the sport the owner plays, as all of the school’s teams use the same locker room, and the occasional miscellaneous socks, gloves, and other things are scattered about. A row of sinks is against one wall and past the sinks is an entrance into the shower area. You make your way there.

As you get closer, the distinct sound of one shower running gets louder. The only curtain that’s closed is a middle stall, all of the others open and empty. Parallel to the shower stalls is a long wooden bench. “Yuta?” You call out. He doesn’t respond, so you try again. “Yuta?”

“Go away.” This time, the response is sharp and harsh. He certainly is in a mood.

“Yuta, it’s me.”

“Y/N?” His voice is significantly less negative now. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk to you.”

You can barely hear him sigh over the sound of the shower running. “You couldn’t wait until after I was done?”

“No.” When you say that, the water shuts off. A hand sneaks out to grab the towel hanging from a hook affixed to the partition between the stalls. You don’t see anything revealing, but you look away anyways. The scraping of the rings being drawn back tells you he has emerged from the stall.

“You can look at me, you know.”

“I didn’t want to be rude.” You look back, greeted with the sight of his gloriously wet hair and bare torso. He emerged quickly enough that he didn’t have time to dry much of the water dripping off of him. The only part of his body that’s covered is his waist and thighs, though the towel still reveals a tantalizing v-line. You forcibly swallow your thirst.

“Blatantly checking me out again? I get it, but would it kill you to be less obvious?” The comment throws you back to a simpler time, when you were just irritated with him for his cockiness and blasting music through the floor.

“Speak for yourself.” You cross your arms. It was obvious enough that he was enjoying the sight of you in a wet t-shirt and shorts.

“Why didn’t you wear something warmer?” He says, frowning. He steps closer, leaving little space between you.

“I didn’t think it would cool down this much.” You look away, not able to face his bare chest quite yet. The room still has a certain steam about it from the hot shower he was taking that makes it a little harder to breathe. Then again, maybe that’s just him being mostly naked in front of you. He reaches out, touching the hem of your shirt.

“You’re soaked,” he says, rubbing your shirt between his thumb and index finger.

“You’re just making me wetter.” Your face burns something fierce as you say it, contrasting the chill that had settled over your skin from standing outside. “You would think you’d dry yourself off more before getting out of the shower.”

“I was just eager to see you, I guess.” You finally have the courage to meet his eyes again.

“I missed you this morning.” You almost pout while saying it, feeling small under his gaze. It’s not an uncomfortable smallness, but one that makes you feel closer to him.

“I figured you didn’t want to see me.” He reaches out, brushing his fingers softly over the side of your face. His touch is blissfully warm. “Or, I think that you did want to see me, but you would only be angrier if I showed up.”

The thought almost makes you laugh. It would be one of the few times he’s been wrong about your feelings. But, if he always knows so much… “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I talked to Mingyu a few minutes ago and you were right. I should have trusted you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you handle it on your own.” He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead. “You’re strong enough to deal with assholes like him. You don’t need me.”

“I might not need you, but I do want to keep you around.” The small confession has your bottom lip quivering. “Did I mess up your game today?”

“It was mostly the rain.” He sounds so nonchalant, but you can tell he’s still bothered. “Not you. But, if you do feel bad about it, Miss Physical Therapy, there is something you can do for me.”

His eyes have shifted away from their darkness into a different sort of moodiness. You step closer. “What is it?”

He moves back, taking a heavy seat on the bench. “I’m quite tense. Give me a massage.” His eyes bore into yours. “If you so choose.”

You step behind him. The thrill of what you feel like he’s implying thrums in your veins. The muscles of his shoulders and back are hard under your fingers, showing years of training and toning. You’re almost surprised at how well built his upper body is for a soccer player. His skin is beyond perfect too, and the little droplets of water from his steamy shower that settle on his skin glisten temptingly in the low light of the locker room.

“Sorry my hands are cold,” you practically whisper.

“It’s fine. Feels nice.” He wasn’t lying when he said he was tense - you can feel the knots leaving his muscles as you press down on them, dissolving into smooth flesh that’s soft to the touch. As you work along his back, one particularly tough knot has your thumbs pressing harder into him, drawing a low groan and a curse from his throat. “Fuck.”

The sound turns you on more than you’d like to admit. As you finish his back, you become even more hyper aware of the little noises he’s letting out, the space between you becoming noticeably warmer. Slowly, reluctantly, your hands leave his skin and you circle back towards his front, not quite wanting to look him in the eye. “Is that better?”

“Much.” The air feels heavy. “But you’re not done, yet.” Ordinarily, he’d be smirking so hard you’d be able to hear it in his voice, but there’s only a low command to his tone now. He reaches out, guiding your dominant hand forward so that it’s resting on the front of his shoulder. There’s no hiding from his eyes now. You decide then - if you’re going to do this, you might as well go all out. Sliding onto his lap, your knees pressing into the wooden bench on either side of him, makes you feel both powerful and small at the same time. His face is only a breath away from your own. You swear you can see his eyes flicker to your lips. Trying to play innocent, despite the fact that you can basically feel his dick hardening under his thin towel, you shift slightly, putting your focus on his shoulder and pectoral muscles. Every so often, you readjust yourself, purposefully bouncing slightly on his lap, almost grinding down on him. He doesn’t crack, remaining still and keeping his expression flat. The only signs he gives of being aroused are the slight shiver to his breath and the prominent bulge you’re now certain you can feel. That, and the hands he has on your body, one on your hip and one on your thigh, fixing you in place.

The process is slow, arduous, but you eventually finish with his pectoral and shoulder muscles. You pull your hands away, placing them in your lap and then sitting back, unmoving on his lap, reveling in the way you’ve very clearly made him feel. “Is that all?”

His eyes flicker down to your lips again before boring into your own. “You missed one spot.” Wordlessly, he reaches up, tapping his own lips.

You could walk away right now. His hands aren’t so tight on your body that you couldn’t just get up and leave, go back to your apartment and forget this ever happened. But why would you want to? You’ve been dreaming of his lips for weeks. Finally, you’re about to get a taste. Still, there’s an edge of apprehension digging slightly in your gut.

You’ve sat in silence for long enough that he’s opening his mouth, an apology about to leave his lips, when you swoop forward, pressing your lips to his.

Where he had given you the choice to initiate, he’s the one who really leads. He almost instantly deepens the kiss, dragging you even farther up his lap, pressing you hard against his barely-shielded dick. You feel his fingertips against your skin, under the hem of your top.

“Do you want this?”

“Yes, but-” Where his hands had stilled under your shirt they begin to move again. “Yuta, wait.” He freezes once more, looking up at you. If you didn’t know better, you could swear you see a little bit of fear in his eyes. A shaky breath leaves your lips. “I won’t fuck you unless you tell me you actually have feelings for me. Did you mean what you said back then? After the games?”

“Is that a requirement for all the guys you sleep with or am I special?” You can feel his cock throbbing under you and your own insides ache in response. Of course, he’s delaying what both of you want by being coy. The frustration building up in your gut and in your heart makes you feel like you’re going insane.

“Yuta…” You mean it to sound admonishing, but your tone is more akin to a whine as you lightly drag your nails down his chest. His breath stutters slightly in his lungs at the motion, but in that moment, a sort of gentleness you’ve rarely seen takes over his facade.

“You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met,” he breathes out, eyes locked with yours, “how could I not have feelings for you?”

You kiss him, sweetly, desperately. His hands begin to move once more, his fingertips digging ever so slightly into your skin. When his hands make it to the edge of your shirt, giving you a suggestion, you cover them with your own, guiding him to take it off. As soon as the garment is out of the way, his lips are on your neck, your collar, the soft skin of your chest. He can feel the hum of your voice through your breast as you speak. “I really like you, Yuta. More than I’ve ever liked anyone else.”

His fingers nimbly unclasp your bra and it falls to the ground somewhere. As his touch ghosts over your breasts, you arch into his hand, drawing a warm chuckle from him. “That’s good,” he says, thumbing slow circles over your nipples, “because I feel the same way about you.”

You pull him back to your mouth, pulling him as close as you possibly can, breathing him like he’s air, tasting him like he’s food. His tongue is slick against your bottom lip, against your own tongue. Almost unconsciously, you rock your hips against his bulge as you move. Impatiently, he tugs at your shorts, pulling you out of the kiss.

“These have to come off.”

“It would kill you to go slow for once,” you laugh, getting off of his lap on shaky legs.

“I go slow for you all the time,” he responds, shifting the towel at his waist, which you realize is barely holding onto him from all the grinding you were doing on his lap, “I’ve been going slow for months now. Isn’t it time to speed things up?”

You roll your eyes, but shimmy out of your shorts, leaving you in your panties and him in his towel. From this angle, he can truly appreciate you. Every curve, every beauty mark, every fold and crease on your body. He leans back, his hands bracing him against the bench. Then, he shifts forward abruptly, taking the opportunity to snap the elastic of your underwear against your skin.

“Yuta!” The cry is half an admonition, half a laugh. You move to push his shoulder gently and he catches you by the hand, pulling you on top of him and kissing you once again. Before you realize it, he has a sneaky hand slipping into your panties, touching you where you’re most sensitive, making you jolt against his hand.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs the words against your lips and you nod, trying to focus on kissing him through the pleasure of his fingers. It’s been far too long since anyone has touched you like this and you’re not used to it.

“Mm,” you moan back, “more than okay.”

He had said he wanted to go faster, but it seems like he’s just going so slow, making you fall apart on his hand, first with just a thumb on your clit, then two fingers pushed more deeply inside of you than you could ever reach yourself. At some point, you’re no longer kissing him and your cheek is pressed to his instead. You nip at his ear, which you now realize is pierced, and the damp spikeyness of his hair rests against your temple.

His free hand rests over your breast, rhythmically squeezing it as you ride his fingers. Oddly enough, you feel like he predicts your climax before even you do, working you carefully through the release of pleasure as you shudder against him and clench around his fingers. Before you can fully regain your senses, he’s kissing you again and removing his hand, wiping his sticky digits against the towel slipping from his waist. You figure you’ll finish the job, reaching down to untwist the cloth so that it falls open against the bench.

You continue kissing him as you take his dick in your hand, your thumb sliding over the precum beading at his tip. It’s his turn to shiver, his cock twitching in your hand. Giving it slow, purposeful jerks, you watch him become perfectly uncomposed under you and you grin, leaning closer to press a kiss to the juncture between his neck and shoulder. He’s stiff, but remarkably soft to the touch, veiny and thick enough that your mouth waters. A couple minutes pass before he’s encasing your hand in his own, slowing your movement.

“I don’t want to come in your hand.” You stop, looking at him with faux-innocent eyes. He blinks desperately at you. “Please.”

“Can I suck you off later?” The words leave your mouth unexpectedly. You hadn’t even really been thinking about the later, but you figure you’re safe to assume that there will be one.

“Of course, pretty girl.” He strokes your hair and you can just think about him holding it back in the future as he-

Trying to distract yourself from the later and focus on the now, you slide off of his lap once again. He almost seems confused, made lonelier by the tiniest distance you put between the two of you. It’s almost a funny image, him half pouting at you while his dick is out, standing up against his abdomen and completely exposed. You let out the smallest exhale of a laugh. “You showed me yours, so I figured I would show you mine.” Your panties fall to the ground, where you kick them in the general direction of the rest of your clothes. The sight of your shorts reminds you of another important thing. “Oh! Also!”

You scramble over to them, reaching into the pocket and producing the little foil packet. Yuta stares at you. “You’re… prepared? I didn’t even think this far ahead and half the time my brain is controlled by my-”

“Kun gave it to me before I came in here,” you say, waltzing back over to him. He takes the packet from your hand, tearing it open. You… give him a hand as he rolls it on. “He’s awfully ready for a great many situations, isn’t he?”

“I think he was expecting this to happen a lot earlier than it actually did, honestly,” Yuta responds, pulling you back on top of him for the third time. Once again, your knees rest on the hard wood bench. “Can we not talk about my roommate, please?”

“I can agree to that.” You smile, kissing him. “Can we talk about how much I like you instead?”

“We can always talk about that,” he says, one hand on his dick, one on your hip, “are you ready?”

The mood dips, making your body shiver in anticipation again. “Yes.”

The way he positions his cock and begins to push into you makes both of you let out noises of relief, a groan from him and a sigh from you. You sink down onto him further until he’s fully sheathed inside of you, hard and pulsing and ungodly warm. He gives an experimental buck of his hips, pulling a moan from your lips and shaping his into a cocky smirk. “Already feel that good?”

“Shut up,” the complaint dies in your throat as you lift yourself up on your knees and sink back down again, bouncing on his lap slightly. You focus on the feeling of him inside of you, the sensation of him hitting your G-spot, the touch of his fingers on your clit again. His breath mingles with yours whenever he takes a break from kissing you. Your hands wander the smooth planes of his chest, your thumb briefly ghosting over his nipple, your palms getting sweatier as you hold onto him. It’s not long before you let your head fall back, your thighs tense as you hold onto his shoulders and move up and down on top of his cock.

His lips are hot as he mouths your neck. You’re not usually the type for marking, but, honestly, the thought of wearing his hickey on your skin sounds beyond appealing. He introduces the slightest bit of teeth, grazing them over your pulse as you ride him. The trail of tiny nips goes down past your collarbones to your breast. Your heart beats loudly in your ears and the desperation of chasing your orgasm makes the passage of time feel fuzzy, but in the sweet, bubbly way a soda does rather than the heavy, blurry way a cold would.

“Yuta,” you whine, the knocking of your legs against the bench growing painful, “can you…”

“I got you, baby.” With a grunt, he stands, lifting you by the thighs. You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him close. A breath later, your back is pressed to the wall and he’s pushing into you once again. The new angle is a change, and it’s a good change. Every one of his thrusts hits exactly right, pushing you further and further until-

“Yuta, you’re gonna make me...” you pant against his mouth, breathing the same air as him. At some point, after he had picked you up, you had reconnected your lips, and he swallows the little noises you let out hungrily. You clench and unclench your fists behind his back, as your arms are slung over his shoulders.

“Mm, good. That’s my girl.”

All you can think as he pounds into you is Yuta, Yuta, Yuta. You come undone with a final swipe of his thumb and a choked cry of his name. Once your own orgasm has stopped burning quite so bright, lowering to a comfortable simmer in your gut, his hips slow with each thrust until he pushes into you and stays there. You can feel him throb inside of you even through the condom.

Your skin feels like it’s glowing in the aftermath of his love, warm like coals after a fire has just ceased to burn. Warm with the promise of more flames in the future. You lean your face in the junction of his shoulder and neck, breathing love onto his skin. His deep, uneven breaths slow over time as he presses gentle kisses to the exposed flesh of your shoulder. The silence between you is only interrupted by the ambient sound of water flowing through pipes hidden in the concrete walls of the shower part of the locker room. That’s enough of a reminder for you to groan, clutching onto him tighter. “I can’t believe we just confessed and fucked in your sweaty locker room.”

“From my perspective, it’s more ‘wow, I can’t believe we finally confessed and fucked, even if it was in my sweaty locker room.’” That, at the very least, makes you smile. Slowly, he begins to pull out, separating from you with a sticky, wet sound. He backs up, turning so that he can place you gently on the towel still lying on the bench. He disposes of the used rubber quickly, throwing it in a trash can at one end of the room.

Now that he’s no longer touching you, it feels so much colder. “I feel bad for whoever has to clean this place. I hope they don’t find that.”

He shrugs. “I’m sure they’ve seen worse.” He makes his way back to you, naked body still on full, glorious display for your eyes only. “Wanna shower while we’re here?”

You groan. “Yuta, I’m tired. No funny business.”

“Who said anything about any ‘funny business?’ I just suggested we clean off the sweat from all that physical exertion.” He’s smirking, not even pretending to be innocent.

“You’re insatiable.” Still you get up, joining him in the shower stall that he holds open for you. If any follow up activity happens while you’re in there, the only way anyone on the outside would be able to tell would be from the quiet sounds that are mostly drowned out by the noise of the shower.

As you finally redress, accepting the hoodie that Yuta had in his locker so that you don’t have to put your wet shirt back on, he can’t seem to keep his hands off of you, like he’s afraid you’ll go away. The environment between you feels different, but the same. After you’re both fully dressed and start walking out the door, you reach out to take his hand. He accepts the action, interlocking his fingers with yours. Both of you stop under the overhang of the building. By now, the sun has set and a few street lights shine along the walkways of the campus through the haze of rain. “Yuta, are you my boyfriend?”

He blinks a couple times. “Wasn’t that implied?”

You turn away, suddenly shy. “I mean… I just… wanted to clarify…”

“You’re too good for me.” He laughs, then kisses your cheek. Both of you stare out of the rain, as if it’s going to suddenly stop just because you’re politely waiting for it. “I meant it. Every time.”

“Hm?”

“Every time I said I liked you, or that you’re amazing. I was just afraid of- I don’t know. That I’m not honest enough or nice enough, or even good enough at soccer. I just-” He seems so tired as he says it, so brutally truthful, so terribly self-doubting.

You squeeze his hand. “Yuta, it’s okay. Honestly, all this time, I thought you’re too good for me. You’re so much more than the things you say you are. You’re a star.”

“I’m not. I can be an asshole, and jealous, and not serious even when I should be-”

“Yuta, if you like me despite all of my ridiculous bad qualities, I’m pretty sure I can deal with a little jealousy. You’ve shown me who you are and I still like you. You’re loyal and funny and romantic and so many other things. I like you.”

He sighs sweetly, like he was holding in a breath for so long and is finally letting it out. He’s holding your hand so tightly, it feels like he might never let go. Right now, you think you might be okay with that. “Sorry. I’ll never get tired of hearing that.”

You peer into others’ eyes for a long time, content to just look. Then, the cold finally gets to your legs and you shiver, scooching slightly closer to him. You look out. The rain isn’t getting any better. “Do you want to run? To make up for us not going together this morning?”

He doesn’t even respond. He just glances at you, winks, and tugs at your hand, starting to go. The rain pelts you as you go, utterly soaking you, getting in your shoes, darkening your borrowed hoodie. His hair sticks to his forehead, making him look a bit like a wet kitten. Maybe a lion, more accurately. Still, in the passing lights and the sheen of the rain, he glows.

“Yuta?” You say between shallow breaths.

“Yeah?” He keeps going, keeps tugging you along. You have to work to keep up with him, pumping your legs hard.

“Do you want to go professional?”

He looks back at you quickly, but then turns forward. “I would.”

“I really think you could do it!”

Then he’s laughing, truly, mirthfully. “That’s the second best thing you’ve said to me today!”

At that, you’re laughing too, though it slows your pace, though it makes your lungs burn, though it helps rain water run into your mouth. When you make it to your complex, soaked through, looking like you just took a swim in your clothes, you don’t want to let go. Reluctantly, both of you part ways to change clothes in your respective apartments with the promise to meet soon and start Yuta’s effort to culture you with anime.

Sowon and Yein tease you relentlessly, both when you enter your apartment leaving puddles on the ground and when you leave again ten minutes later completely dry. They tease you for the next week whenever they catch you leaving if they know you don’t have classes. The next Friday, you end up staying up far too late watching one of Yuta’s shows, which you admit are at the very least fun, and you fall asleep in his bed. You’re sure you’ll never hear the end of it from your roommates, even if Yein has been staying in the volleyball boys’ apartment every other day for the last month.

In the morning, a mere three hours after you and Yuta went to sleep, you wake up in his arms to a strange blaring of J-rock. He reaches over you to slap his phone and shut it off. You stay awake just long enough to comment on how strange it is hearing the music next to you and not through the floor.

When you wake up around noon to Yuta staring at you, his bangs half covering his eyes, you flip over, checking the time so that he can’t see the absolutely embarrassed look on your face. “You’re so weird.” “Why are you being all shy? I’ve seen you naked. There’s nothing more to see.”

“There’s plenty more of me to see, thank you very much, Nakamoto Yuta.”

“I know there is, darling.” His arm is still slung over your torso like it was when the alarm went off and he tries to wrestle you back around to face him. You squirm in his hold.

“Darling? You’re so weird. Why are you so weird?”

“Weird? I thought I was romantic and funny and-”

“And weird!” You wiggle more until he flips you onto your back, straddles you, and pins your hands to the bed. It’s quite an incredible sight, him pinning you down with his raven hair a complete mess and no shirt, where you can faintly see marks that you may or may not have left on his chest earlier in the week. “No fair. Home ground advantage.”

He leans in, looking ever so charming despite his disheveled appearance. “You know what makes for great morning exercise?”

“You’re weird and a horndog and-”

“Running! Let’s go.” He suddenly rises up, taking one of your hands with him and pulling you into a sitting position.

“Yuta, it’s noon! There are going to be people out everywhere.” He tugs on your hand and you move so that you’re sitting on the edge of the bed. “And it’s Saturday, so there’s going to be even more people…”

“You don’t need to worry about people judging you. If anyone gives you any funny looks, I’ll-”

“You’ll what? Punt a soccer ball at their heads?” You’re standing now, looking at him uncertainly.

He shrugs. “Sure. But, seriously. I promise that you have nothing to be self conscious about. You also have me. That part most importantly.” You would smack him if the smile he gives you doesn’t have you reluctantly agreeing.

He’s right, of course. The run is completely fine. At least, you’re distracted enough by your boyfriend for it to be fine. When you return, you split off to take showers in your apartments. After you emerge from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around your body, you find him waiting in your room. You register him saying something about the tables turning and “great afternoon exercise” before he practically pounces on you.

Afterwards, through your sex-high haze, you hear a loud knocking on your front door. Groaning, you move only so much as to press your face into Yuta’s shoulder. “Don’t wanna get up…”

“Did I make you feel that good?” His voice is a warm rumble, teasing, though full of the same tiredness that yours has. You’re about to jab him lightly in the side when his hand shifts down, two of his fingers running through your folds. Shivering at the suggestion, you wiggle closer to him, hiding your face even more.

“Let me rest, you sex-fiend.” Before he can reply, there’s a few more insistent knocks at your door. “Ugh…”

“Were you expecting someone?” You shake your head against him. He reaches over and grabs your phone. “I heard this going off earlier while we were busy.” You make no move to take it from him, so he turns it on, his eyes scanning the recent chain of texts you’d just received. “It’s your brother.”

You immediately bolt straight up. “What?” Your mind ticks back to the previous day before you’re scrambling out of bed. “Shit, shit, shit, I forgot he was coming today!” As quickly as you can, you try to throw on the various items of clothing that had gotten scattered around the room in your - Yuta’s, more accurately - haste to move them off of the bed, where you had laid them out for after your shower.

Yuta stretches lazily. “Glad I could remind you.”

“Asshole, get clothes on! He’ll kill you if he figures out what we did!”

“Ah, to be killed by L/N B/N. You say ‘what we did’ like it’s a bad thing.”

“He’s my older brother, for God’s sake!” You throw a shirt at him, smacking him in the face. “He will murder you! If he doesn’t murder me for forgetting our plans first…”

“And your plans are?” He slips his arms through the sleeves of his shirt, slipping it on.

“I’m taking him to see your game. Maybe meet the team. Who knows? You won’t be able to see it if you don’t move your ass.” You finish putting your jeans on.

“I’ve never escaped through a window before, but it sounds fun.” He’s still smirking, clearly amused. You’re certain he would actually do that if you let him.

“On second thought, just stay here. I won’t let him into my room.” Your phone lights up with your brother’s face and number and starts to buzz. You pick it up. “Sorry, I’m coming! I was napping.” You hang up. “Please, Yuta?”

He steps into his own jeans. “That’s what I was planning on. Don’t worry, I’m not trying to incapacitate myself before the game.”

With that reassurance, you close the door to your room and head for the apartment door. Your brother, clad in a hat, hoodie, and jeans, weirdly normal for him, is standing in front of your door, his phone in his hand. He narrows his eyes. “Hi, Y/N. For a second there, I really thought you forgot about our plans. Who takes a nap on a Saturday afternoon?”

You step aside, letting him in. “I was just tired today for some reason. Sorry.” “You’re lucky you’re my favorite.” He walks in, sliding off his shoes next to yours. “Are your roommates home? It’s been a while since I’ve seen them.”

“No, but they’ll be at the game later. You won’t miss them.” You stand there, swaying somewhat awkwardly. You’re sure that he’s noticed that you’re acting strangely. “Who let you into the lower doors?”

Your brother steps inside casually. “Your neighbor Jaehyun. Nice kid.”

“Y-Yeah. He’s one of our midfielders.”

“I guess I’ll get to see him in action soon, then. Where near here is good for something quick? We only have an hour and a half until the game.”

You’re thankful for a change in subject. “Depends what you want to eat! Think about it while I run to the bathroom?”

As you head there, you glance at your closed door. You feel kind of bad for leaving him in there, but it’s for his own protection. When you get back to the door, your brother is in the same place, staring at the shoes around the entry. He points at a pair of men’s shoes, which you realize with dawning horror are Yuta’s.

“Y/N? Whose shoes are these?”

“Oh! Those are, um, Johnny’s. Yein’s boyfriend.”

He deadpans. “Johnny. Your neighbor. The one who lives right across from you. Who is dating your roommate who isn’t here right now.” When you don’t respond, he sighs. “Y/N, it would be a lot easier to lie to me if you didn’t tell me so much in the first place. Who’s in your room? I know you hate closing your door if you’re not sleeping.”

Reluctantly, you walk to your room, cursing observant soccer players. Yuta looks mildly surprised to see you, and you walk over to where he’s sitting on your bed, grabbing him by the hand and tugging him over to your brother. If he’s afraid of your brother, he doesn’t show it.

“Yuta, was it?” He’s still expressionless. “I’ll have you know that there’s a few rules.” Before Yuta can even ask about the rules, he’s launching into a detailed explanation about consequences, saying something about maiming and making it look like an accident.

“B/N, you’re a professional now. You should really try not to say such scary stuff. Also,” you say, frowning, “I can handle myself. You know that by now.”

Yuta breaks his silence. “She really can. She’s strong enough to deal with anything.”

“You really believe that?” Your brother’s gaze is unyielding.

“I do.”

“Well, then.” He suddenly lightens up, smiling at the two of you. “Want to join us for dinner? I’m thinking noodles.”

“I actually have to get to warm-ups soon…” Yuta says regretfully.

“That’s a good boy. See, Y/N, I trust your judgement. We best be off, then.” Abruptly, your brother turns, putting his shoes back on. You scramble to join him, grabbing your things and putting your own shoes on.

“I’ll see you later?” You say to Yuta, who’s simply staring, somewhat shell shocked that he survived the encounter.

He blinks, then gives you a sort of smirk. “How about a kiss for-”

“Don’t push it.” Your brother cuts him off, standing in the doorway. He starts down the stairs. When he’s not looking, you lean over, pressing your lips to Yuta’s cheek. Before you can turn around, he sneaks one of his own onto your lips. You run after your brother.

He thoroughly grills you about Yuta during dinner, but you don’t mind. You keep out the parts about sex and the specifics of the relationship coming to fruition and he seems satisfied. You barely make it to the game in time because of your brother’s interrogation, but you still get there early enough to see some of the drills. In work mode, he crosses his arms, making approving comments about Yuta’s footwork. Your boyfriend is in a similar mood, already focused in.

Then, the game starts. The other team starts with the ball, but it makes no difference. The Lions take it back, sending it back and forth across the field, gaining and losing it, until Yuta, as usual, scores, redeeming himself from the previous week. Your brother says something under his breath about potential and skill. Through the game, the Lions make great plays and you find yourself cheering for all of them, even Mingyu. The rival team stands no chance - not for lack of skill, but simply because your team is determined. By the end of the game, the score is a solid 3:0.

You’re one of the first onto the field after the teams break away from shaking hands. You meet Yuta in the middle, jumping on him in a hug when you reach him. You can’t stop the outpouring of praise, telling him how well he played, how brilliant he was. He just laughs, telling you he did his best. It’s the most positive thing you’ve heard from him after a game.

When you let go of him, willing to let the rest of his friends surround him now, you step away in search of your brother. To your surprise, he’s chatting up the Lions’ coach, who seems somewhat flustered by the Ravens’ striker speaking to him. Before you can get close, the coach blows the whistle he has around his neck, getting the attention of everyone around him, but particularly the team.

“Boys! Gather round, we have someone here with something to say to you.”

It doesn’t take long for them to recognize who your brother is.

It’s funny seeing the team rush to your brother, some pretending to be cool, some openly fawning over him. But, there’s one person who isn’t looking at him. From across the mob forming around your brother, you make eye contact with Yuta. And, in the midst of the stars shining in the form of the Raven, the Lion’s light falls on you.

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Birthday Cake

A/N: Suprise folks!!! *me laughing maniacally* The whole scenery for this fic somehow appeared in my head and I just COULDN’T let it slip away, so... My biggest inspo for that was @drawlfoy!! Remember her posting the fic where Draco and Reader work at McDonald’s and are total suckers in their job (arguing with the customers; preparing wrong orders; etc.)? Dee unfortunately, deleted this precious, but it’s stuck to my head ever since (lol lol, it’s the moment where Dee wants to get rid of something, but I kindly remind everyone it existed). Therefore I present to you the next Draco x Reader fic related to our fav fast-food rest. This time, however, they’re not working at the same workplace but... I'm going to stop here cuz I don't want to spoiler :P

**The second thing that triggered me to write this fic is the YouTube video I recently saw with a lady who orders the 'specials' appearing to be out of the menu list of McDonald’s, through the Drive-Through. She asked for a birthday cake, was laughed at a few times, but eventually got what she wanted. Applause for the attitude!!

About the fic (context, my bitches): ofc it’s the modern AU, non-magical world. Draco’s the worst boyfriend ever but always manages to turn things into their righteous place. 

Summary: The birthday is upcoming, and Draco is in a rush to think up an idea for a perfect gift. His ingenuity fails, however, and leaves Y/N very unsatisfied with a disaster that has been forged. 

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: my brain playing a total psycho, language, alcohol, sexual undertones/allusions to sex, Pansy being too much of her self... deal...

Tags: @drawlfoy @eltanin-malfoy

Such an unrestrained desire to strangle somebody you hadn't felt in a long time.

Really.

Today was your birthday, which you had been widely announcing for almost a whole month to people you might have accidentally forgotten about it. Having your boyfriend, Draco, on your mind in particular.

You doubted he would have the guts to omit your big day, though as repeatedly as he had done for a few years back. But something between foresight and the second sense of prevention told you to keep reminding him every day of the upcoming event, with a heap of birthday-themed emojis and uppercases in the messages.

Everything was planned out in your head: him picking you up from your house with the sharp-red cabriolet that he used only for special occasions; him driving the two of you to the fanciest restaurant he could find in town; him bestowing you with a nice-looking, golden necklace or a different piece of jewelry you had been suggestively pointing out in the store's exhibition; him booking up a hotel room for you two to celebrate.

Either way, that was much beyond your expectations, as it turned out. And now you were sitting in the front yard of your house, waiting for him to show up.

'If he was going to at all.' This thought invaded your mind for the last hour, try as might to subdue it. An hour you had been sitting tight, hoping it was only a delay caused by a traffic jam or other irrational explanation he could come up with. But you were deceiving yourself, you eventually presumed -- you had been checking up your phone every one minute, only to see if any message notification popped up on the screen, other than birthday wishes from friends who actually cared for you.

2.02pm: Nothing.

2.03pm: Susan 'Happy birthday bitch!'

2.04pm: Instagram notif. (Someone liked your photo, which you had posted before leaving your room, posing in front of the mirror in the best cocktail dress you could find in the wardrobe.)

2.05pm: Nothing yet again.

2.06pm: Still... Peace and quiet.

"Fuck it...Enough," you muttered under your breath, an annoying disillusionment falling like a heavy mile stone on your chest. Tears suddenly started sprinkling in your eyes at the regret, and you were very reluctant to admit that your friends were right -- Draco Malfoy was an egoistic, negligent, self-absorbed pri--

"Hi." You heard the raspy, panting voice says. "Sorry for the delay."

You blinked slowly, stupidly. You raised your head to assure yourself it was him. That his expression actually corresponded to his words and showed some kind of remorse for standing you up. But no... There he was: standing in front of you, plainly confident and unashamed, with his cocky smirk provoking you to slap him.

Oh, how much you craved to slap him right now. "Where to the fuck have you been?"

"I've tried to pick this up," he explained, simultaneously lifting up the paper bag he'd been carrying in his hand. The big, exclaiming letters 'McDonald's' with the brand's logo were printed on its exterior, and it was fully stuffed with something inside.

Not quite comprehending, you furrowed. You attempted to hide the venom in your voice, but somehow it found its way to leak out. "Couldn't you do that in advance?"

"Nope..." It was his turn to furrow, looking almost shocked with the question. And thanks to all those years of your relationship, you knew it was his piss-poor estimation of time taking over. "It was a last-minute surprise."

"Sounds like it," you commented irritably. "What's that?"

"Your birthday present, sunshine," he drawled happily, ignoring your remark. He sounded positively delighted and satisfied with himself at surprising you with that because he saw a slight crease of shock painting on your forehead. "Here you go."

You took his deposit out of his grasp, still quite unsure. What if his gift would only make a situation worse? Can it get any worse with Draco's total lack of tact? Yes. But it was only one way to find out.

Without even stealing a second glance at him, you ripped off all of the packaging that had been folded around, protecting the contents. You tried to do it carefully and without any impact of emotions revealing the way you felt inside, but your hands were shaking with rage, and you couldn't quite contain yourself. You had been highly aware you shouldn't have expected much from him, but still...

You wondered if the universe was playing against you.

There was a moment of tense silence as you struggled to deal with all the wrappings. Rather unfortunately, you wished you hadn't put so much effort in opening your so-called 'gift' because as you finally did, it only angered you more, seeing as the disappointment laughs at your face. And yes, as a matter of fact, the universe was against you today...

"Are you kidding me?" you asked in disbelief, fury reappearing in your eyes. "A birthday cake?! From McDonald's?" Ugly, little cake with the creepiest smiley face of a clown. It wasn't even fresh, you realized, when you smelled it and felt a musty reek of a freezer, it probably had been kept in. A confusing sense of sadness in your chest couldn't reach any higher at this point.

"Don't you like it?" he asked, detecting the wrath in your eyes. At that, you felt the dumbest urge to laugh and never stop. "I thought it'd be something original."

"Oh, I love it," you said sarcastically, a faint voice of hope telling you it was only a very bad joke was still lingering in your head. But it wasn't a joke.

"It's not just--" He struggled to form a coherent sentence. "I've been asking Blaise and Theo about any ideas. I told them, what you had said to me -- 'you didn't want anything fancy.' So we decided it's... something."

"Of course I didn't tell you I want anything, you dolt!" Your voice raised up almost two octaves, and the pulse sped up so fast it entailed a headache along. A neighbor from the opposite garden who was watering the flowers looked at you, startled, and eyes widened your exasperated tone. You didn’t care. "It's how it works: you don't tell other people you expect them to buy something!"

"But I'm your boyfriend. You shouldn't -- er-- feel uncomfortable to tell..."

"Exactly! As my boyfriend, you should have known!"

"Well... I didn't. If that's what's bothering you, we can...we can..."

"Stop." Listening to him and his pathetic excuses was the last thing you were going to do now. "What – why would you even – " You sputtered out, unable to process or express exactly what you were feeling. There was definitely anger and indignation. Curiosity, for another, as to why Draco would even fall for such foolish and ill-considered idea, and -- to the top of it -- hope it would make a good fit. And possibly, the last and most satisfying part, was the wicked impulse to throw the cake directly into his arrogant face, letting him taste his own medicine he had been serving you for years on each failed birthday.

"You know, for once, you could pay more effort and try doing something nice for me," you told him firmly, deflating to calm down your buzzing nerves.

"I've been tr--"

"Do you realize how much it costs me to pretend to be happy when you forget about me? Last year, I organized a big-ass party for your birthday, inviting over all of your friends and buying the best booze I could find to celebrate it properly," you said harshly and pretentiously, as you intended. "The best part is, you didn't even thank me." You stared at him, wringing your hands and expecting to perceive any trope of shame in his eyes. For the first time, you actually did.  

"Listen, about that--" he calmly attempted to cut off your monologue.

"No, you listen..." Did you really want what was upcoming next? Maybe it was about time. "Today, I decided I'm standing up for myself. So, for the last time, get out from my porch."

He bristled, the thunderstruck air hanging around him. "Because of the stupid cake?"

"What?! No! It's just... I feel like you don't give a damn about me anymore." Gulp formed in your throat, and the tears finally left your eyes at the consciousness of what was happening. "I think we both deserve some time."

Your eyes moved to his, and you almost wished you hadn't looked. He was watching you, with pursed lips and a pure mixture of every emotion: anger, sadness, resentment, pretension, dejection. The faintest of his flustered blushes appeared on his cheeks, and you suddenly wished you could hug him. "So you are putting us..." His finger pointed at him and you as if expecting clarification. "...on a break? Is that what it is?"

You were truly torn, to be honest. Becoming single on your birthday was the last wish you had for this day, but you felt a strong sense of adequacy and pride for building up the boundaries of tolerance. Besides, seeing as it was heading nowhere, it was only a matter of time that your relationship came to an end.  

Although, it hurt. A lot. "Yes."

You darted your eyes from him, not wanting to study his reaction in case it caused you to meltdown and jump to his embrace, apologizing endlessly for your words. You loved him. But you didn't regret what you had just said.

Something like a dry chuckle of disbelief escaped out of his mouth. "Is that what you really want?"

'No,' your thoughts prompted you instantly before you could even contemplate. 'I want you to say so many things you're never willing to say. But you don't know.'

So instead, you lied: "Yes."

All expressed, you spun around without peeking back and rushed into your room, already knowing there was no more sense in strives to make this day any better; all of it would bring only bad associations. It would be depressing, even more than it already was.

God, was it how the break-up pained? Because if so, you wanted to be deceased. The world spun suddenly, and you sank to your knees, shaking madly and doing your best to find your way back to your bed, located a few mere meters from you. Part of you felt numb, but your head was wide awake and alarming you that something in terms of a disaster had just happened. Because it did. The clutching in your chest was unbearable, and tears were dashing out of your eyes like a living waterfall, which made you bury your face in your hands. Never have you ever wanted to be so drunk before.

And so many questions rung up in your head at once.

Did you make a good decision? What if you are going to miss him, yet knowing you could never call? What about college -- are things about to get awkward?

No answers.

But you knew someone who would be able to reply to them.

With the blurred by tears vision, you struggled but managed to find your phone in the purse, and then clumsily scrolled through and tapped in your list of contacts before holding the phone to your ear.

Please answer, you begged. Please, please…

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Pansy's voice roared from the other side of a line, as always, enthusiastic.

"Pansy." You tried to sound less brokenly than you were, feeling marginally worse at the reminder of your birthday. "Is Daphne around?"

"Ouch, you're a really nasty bitch sometimes, you know. I'm not goin' to point out today, but since you didn't let me end my wishes, I'll note that for the future reference." You were sure she was grinning at the teasing, seeing as much as she liked that. Normally, you wouldn't mind, but... "How--"

"Pansy, please..." you sobbed out, almost desperate to have someone to consult and share emotions with. Daphne -- contrary to Pansy, who could be very judgy sometimes -- was someone you had especially on mind now. "I need to talk to her."

You heard her sigh; the kind of sigh she used to either prove her resignation or concern. But, as much as it surprised you, she suppressed her curiosity and, without a second word, obediently handed the phone over to Daphne. At least, that's what you assumed because you heard a pause and subdued mutters in the background.

"Y/N?" the milder tone spoke up, and you felt suddenly very strange as if submerged in water of relief; relief to hear the familiar voice. That released you from keeping a distant attitude, and yet again, a sadness washed over you, triggering a loud wail to come out of your mouth. "Y/N, is everything alright?"

"No..." you sniveled, unable to collect yourself together. "I-I... We br-brok-e up."

"You and Draco?" Daphne asked, astonishment evident.

You nodded but then remembered she couldn't see you nor read your expression. So instead, you forced your vocal cords to work again. "Mhm..."

"What happened?"

Restoring the story in your brain again, you told her everything, still tearfully but much more coherently this time. You avoided the details, briefly skipping from one utterance to another, as your conversations had gone, and you were very much thankful she didn't press for more information about the prospect of the situation. If it hadn't been her sporadic gasps or loud inhales of breath, you would have almost presumed she wasn't listening. However, she was, and as soon turned out, Pansy was as well.

"That's bananas!" Pansy shouted somewhere from the back as you had ended, and despite your gloom, you giggled quietly at her comment.

"Shush," Daphne tried to silence her, covering up the fact she had put you on the speaker. You didn't mind because you knew Pansy, who would definitely expect Daphne to cite the whole conversation if needed. But knowing Daphne as well, you could bet she flushed more than she would want to at that point. "So it all started because of the cake?"

"And the delay," you added. "But it's not just about that, obviously. It feels like... he completely stopped caring. And I don't want to be stuck in a relationship where everything is about sex and having fun only. Draco wasn't looking for a commitment, which..."

"Sucks,"ended this time Pansy unhesitatingly, who wasn't now screaming from the other part of a room but openly participating in the discussion.

"Yeah," you agreed.

"As for me, I think he might love you more than you know, Y/N." It was Daphne talking again, and she sounded positively convinced about her view as for someone who had hardly exchanged any word with Draco for the past few years. As if reading your thoughts, she continued. "I've observed you a lot. I know he might seem unemotional, but it's you who discovered him. That must require a lot of trust, you know."

You contemplated, and some of the memories and images from your first encounter run across your brain, try as might to suppress it: spotting each other at the party; binging some whisky shots together; flirty teasing; the very masculine scent of cologne; and then... more spicy recollections -- eager lips pressing against each other; against each others' necks; against other parts of the body; stripping off the clothes in the passionate haste...

Receiving a long moment of silence, Daphne took a second chance and asked. "And what's with you? Do you want to end it?"

It felt like standing before the oracle of truth. Therefore, you couldn't deny it in front of yourself. "No."

"So what're you still doing there?" commented Pansy impatiently, and you could imagine her rolling the eyes. "Get out and find him!"

She was right. You will.

XOXOXOXO

"I thought I'd find you here..."

No. Actually, you didn't. 

You had tracked Draco's phone with your own one with some help of an app that, as the two of you had established still in the relationship, would be a good idea in case of an emergency. That in itself proved to be more than helpful, believing that your argument may be pinned as something in terms of an emergency, right?

So having access to his location, you had found out he was in the park where he had taken you on the first date, shortly after dinner, to watch the sunset that, as he had described, 'was a typical cliche from every romantic movie.'

But you had fallen for that. So much.

You hadn't been aware the place had actually some meaning for him until now, and that... God, that he had even remembered it. Time showed, however, that it indeed did, to which your heart reacted with a happy jolting. But also with a nasty sting of nostalgia following shortly after.

Yet, that only had encouraged you to make up your mind and go looking for him, which hadn't been such a difficult task per se. He was sitting on the bench, in the shade of a tree, and hiding his a little too delicate skin from the sun rays. As soon as he had heard your voice, his gray eyes flew up to see you standing a few meters away.

"What are you doing here?" was the immediate question that tumbled out of his mouth. He arched his eyebrow, and to your surprise, he didn't even look angry or sad with you. Nothing near the edge; actually, almost something like the amusement was painting on his face.

"Aren't you mad with me?" you asked intrigued, completely forgetting about his question.

He frowned. "Why would I be?" His tone was so mild that you weren't sure if he was referring to the double meaning; but then he smirked playfully and said, "Besides, I knew you were coming."

"Wha-- How?" you asked, eyes dilating a fraction, in shock.

He smirked, pointing at his phone in an explanatory manner. After a moment, you finally figured out what he meant: the app must have registered he had been tracked and that your phone was trying to find his. At this notice, you reacted with a wave of flush, suddenly regretting your previous lie. His smile only widened at your expression. "Wanna sit? It's plenty of room here."

"Mhm..." You nodded, pleased to accept his offer, and walked over to the bench, doing your best to hide the evident embarrassment on your face. You felt strange he had taken you with such ease, seeing as merely two or three hours ago, you had burst at him like a cram-full volcano of unspoken emotions.

Draco shifted a package from his side, making more space for you to sit, and it took you a moment to realize it was a McDonald's cake from earlier. Everything started from that -- a stupid, little piece of cake which stood up between...

You shook the thought away, taking a seat next to him, close enough to smell his sandalwood cologne. "You didn't answer my question," Draco reminded you. "What's so important to make you track my phone?"

"I'm sorry, okay?" You rounded your face to him, flustrated, leaning at the backrest of a bench. "That's why I came. I wanted to apologize."

"Oh... Couldn't you call?"

You sighed. "I figured you wouldn't want to talk to me after...you know... our quarrel," you said half-despondent, half-desperate, watching your feet as if it were the most interesting thing to peer at now. "I didn't mean what I said earlier."

"I know," he said. Out of nowhere, he was gently grasping your palms which forced you to look up directly into his intense gaze. His eyes were swirling like molten silver at you. "But I should be apologizing, love. I made a mistake, okay?" His hands traveled all across to your tense shoulders, squeezing them lightly. "I know I should be more... affectionate with you. And this was...dumb. A dumb mistake. With that cake. But I'll try to be better if you give it another shot."

He looked so serious that you instantly believed him. You wanted to actually, with all force of longing, which grew up too rapidly in you when he wasn't around. Draco was a fool, you could easily say. But he was your fool, which was a thing you couldn't be more proud of.

Peeking slowly in the other direction, you asked, out of the topic, "You remembered the place?"

"Of course," he puffed jokingly, smiling. "Our first date. Officially our place from then on."

"Right..." You smiled back.

Honestly, the mere fact that he had called this spot 'yours' warmed up your heart, and you felt yourself grinning at his never-before-discovered emotionality. To assure yourself you weren't the only one caring, it was all you needed to hear.

The whole moment was intense, and now, you realized, is when you should have hugged him. Kissed him. Said something back at his sincere endearment.

But instead, spotting plastic cutlery next to your 'gift', you asked, "So what's the taste of the birthday cake?"  

And you knew he had caught the subtext of your playful inquiry. And you knew that soon you would work things out again. But, as for now...

"I thought you would never ask."

XOXOXOXO

A/N: Looooooool. Such a drama-comedy, right? And I could easily say It feels like 50% Draco-x-Reader / 50% Draco-x-BirthdayCake... But whatever (2am is working like a drunken bud, folks). Happy beginning of August :)

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #33: In Which I Write the Word ‘Quantum‘ 19 Times

Dang, I forgot what happened at the end of the last issue. It was pretty important, too, but I don’t have time to reread. Maybe the establishing shot can help me out?

Oh, that’s right, Rewind happened!

Everyone’s pretty jazzed that Rewind is here, non-exploded, and supposedly alive. Megatron carries this ridiculously small man over to a table, while Skids is busy admonishing Nightbeat for trying to put the pieces of this mystery together.

That’s one of the two first canonically, openly gay Transformers, Megatron. You bet your ass he’s important.

Nightbeat’s dragged Nautica over to look at that poster for Crosscut’s play they saw last issue. Together, they discover something interesting, and it’s not that Nightbeat’s chin has elongated to the point of absurdity. On this future ship, the play was completed and produced a mere few weeks after the initial launch of the Lost Light.

While this is going on, Rewind wakes up and asks Skids what the hell is going on. Skids, likely not wanting to poke at farm-fresh trauma, glosses over the fact that everyone on this ship was violently murdered, and that they found Rewind blacked out inside the hollowed torso of his brother-in-law.

…This is a dark story line.

You see, the joke here is that “Dark Cybertron” sucked major chrome.

Megatron reminds everyone that they’re still in grave danger every moment they stay aboard this ship, but Skids is more concerned with Rewind’s mental health. Which is sweet, but maybe not the thing to prioritize in such a precarious situation.

Rewind takes the fact that Megatron is an Autobot now pretty friggin’ well, as well as the introduction of gender into his species. That is, until Nightbeat, the king of social graces, saunters up to the scene to ask Rewind what the hell happened to the ship. He does get his answers, despite Rewind being horrified to the point of speechlessness.

Over at the hole in the wall, Nautica and Riptide are taking a gander at the quantum drums, which house the quantum foam for the quantum engines so quantum jumps can happen.

As Nautica explains the process by which quantum travel works, she realizes that the answer to what happened to everyone who disappeared was right in front of them this whole time.

Quantum, quantum, quantum- doesn’t even sound like a word anymore, does it?

The data slug Rewind made corroborates this theory, showing a series of events that definitely didn’t happen to the Lost Light we’ve been following throughout this story so far. The data slug contains this Rewind’s version of dead Rewind’s “Little Victories”, the travelogue that was never completed, where the question “are you happy?” revealed just how emotionally unhealthy most of the crew is. I’d like to imagine this Rewind’s film is called “Small Achievements”, or perhaps “Dear Fucking Lord, We’ve Been on this Trip for Three Hours and the Captain Has Been Killed by a Goddamned Soul-Vampire”, or maybe even “Where the FUCK is Our Therapist”.

The DJD came into the equation by way of someone having led them to the Lost Light. We get a flashback panel of the gorefest, in which Tarn appears to have learned how to fly, given the angle he’s coming from.

Because Rewind’s big thing in this series is being the guy who records stuff, the DJD take the opportunity to make some movies of their visit to the space yacht.

James, why do you keep getting Rewind involved with snuff films? I’m starting to get concerned.

Now, the thing about Rewind is that he’s almost always accompanied by his other half. Where is Chromedome, anyway?

He’s dead, that’s where.

Turns out, when you tell the DJD that you won’t do the thing they want you to do, they have a habit of doing nasty things in retaliation. Chromedome got stabbed in the friggin’ visor with his own finger needles, because Vos enjoys ironic deaths, I suppose. There’s some other stuff that’s implied to have happened, but we’ll get to that once we learn a little more about the DJD themselves.

While Rewind recounts the grisly tale of his husband’s demise, Riptide notes that the quantum foam has begun to spread at a remarkable rate. This is a bad thing, because that shit can and will explode, given half the chance, and this wreck is floating right above a potentially-inhabited planet.

Though I could have sworn we established that this planet was a Smartplanet, and therefore very much populated by students and staff. I don’t know. Maybe we conveniently forgot that, so we could make this a learning moment for Megatron.

Jiminy Christmas, Megs, do you even listen to yourself?

Skids, who has had a very long day of finding corpses and learning about quantum theory, snaps at Megatron, telling him that in order to actually be an Autobot, you have to have a little frickin’ compassion for those outside of your peer group.

Which is sort of contradictory to the Aequitas trials, the Killswitch debacle, the POW situation back on Cybertron, and whatever the fuck Prowl’s whole deal is, but maybe Skids is speaking about his own, personal relationship with being an Autobot. Hopefully so, otherwise he needs a class on critical thinking, STAT.

Never mind all of that though, because the problem just got a lot worse- the quantum foam has expanded to a point where any holes in the stuff are too small for the Rod Pod to get through. We’re going to have to get creative if we want to save the day.

Luckily, we’ve got a quantum duplicate of just about the tiniest little dude in the franchise here to do the job. Now we just need another, equally tiny little man, so the quantum drums can be shut off at the same time. Nautica commits more microaggressions, and this gives Getaway inspiration for a witty quip, which in turn gives Skids a brilliant idea.

The gang heads down to Brainstorm’s lab, to look for the mass displacement gun that was used for treating Ultra Magnus’s nanocon infestation back in the 2012 Annual. While they search, Nautica explains just why the hell the Lost Light disappeared in the first place. You see, quantum duplication acts on the Cain Instinct— it’s fine, as long as the duplicates don’t perceive each other. However, the moment contact is made, it says “oh man, guess I’m gonna have to end you” to one of the duplicates. The contact in this case happened when the Coffin Rodimus was brought aboard the ship.

Anything that wasn’t aboard the Lost Light at the point of the takeoff/explosion was never duplicated, and thus wasn’t erased from reality once shit started going to hell. This is why the Rod Pod is still around, and why the remaining cast are— well, the remaining cast.

While this conversation is going on, Nautica and Nightbeat uncover yet another dead body; it’s Brainstorm, and he’s a little underdressed.

…Someone run a paternity test, I think Cyclonus might be the father.

Also, Brainstorm’s a double agent.

Fucked up.

Getaway is furious that a Decepticon has been living on the same ship as him for the last six months, right under his proverbial nose. Even Megatron’s surprised, stating that Brainstorm isn’t usually who the recruiters aim for.

So, no mass displacement gun, and now they’re aware of the fact that there’s a traitor on the ship who’s had access to a LOT of weapon tech. It’s at this point that Megatron decides to stop lying by omission and tells everyone that he can mass-displace, since he used to turn into a handgun.

Smashcut to Megatron and Rewind floating out in space, the former now not much taller than the latter, as they traverse the web of quantum foam to get to the drums. Nautica instructs them from the Rod Pod. If this works, anything produced or connected to the quantum engine will be neutralized, and maybe we’ll even get the other Lost Light back! YAAAAAY!!!

Y’all really let this man go out there to fuckin’ kill himself for the greater good, didn’t you?

Rewind is honestly pretty chill with ceasing to be, seeing as he watched 200/+ people die today, including his long-time spouse.

Jesus. I’d say get him a therapist, but in order to do that, we’re going to have to wipe him off the map anyway.

Rewind asks Megatron if the Chromedome that isn’t his and his duplicate are still together. And I mean…

Luckily, Megatron has the good sense to lie.

With that, they flip the switches, and deactivate the drums.

And that’s a series wrap on Rewind! Congrats to Mr. James Roberts for the esteemed honor of burying the same gay twice!

Later on, everyone is back inside the Rod Pod, as their disappeared shipmates return from being nonexistent. Chromedome pops back in, and Skids is on him like a shark, telling him to go on the roof. Skids doesn’t even try to explain why. Which, fair. How the hell do you explain to someone that their dead husband’s quantum duplicate survived both a terrorist splinter cell attack, and the laws of quantum sci-fi bullshit crashing down on his tiny, tiny body, and that he’s right there on the roof waiting for them?

Welp, there goes the Chromedome/Dominus endgame. Shame, that.

Looks like Chromedome finally hit the threshold for having earned Roberts’ pity, and won’t be directly targeted by the plot for a little while. This isn’t something you see very often, so let’s really soak this in.

…Someone had to have told Rewind what happened to the other Rewind, right? I wonder what that conversation was like.

Back inside the ship, Blaster gets word that the Lost Light has reappeared. As they navigate towards it, Megatron requests that an encrypted call be made to Rodimus, to discuss the Brainstorm problem.

In the interim, Ravage is offered the opportunity to be a part of the crew, so he doesn’t have to keep skulking around in the shadows. We don’t get an answer from him, as our focus shifts over to Nightbeat and Nautica.

Nightbeaaaaaaaaaat, stop stating the themes of the comic verbatim! People are going to start thinking you’re a shonen anime protagonist!

Nightbeat’s somehow managed to keep ahold of the briefcase that they found on the other Lost Light. Unless Brainstorm’s boyfriend is in there, I don’t think this one was the work of Huey Lewis and the News’ hit single from the Back to the Future soundtrack.

Over on the Lost Light, specifically in Swerve’s, Brainstorm’s making his way through the crowd, briefcase held gentle like hamburger as he goes. He makes it to the bar, where Atomizer tells him he can’t have his briefcase in here. Brainstorm has what most would accept to be a healthy response to being told “no.”

It’s what I would do.

[beepbeepbobop]

Back again.

I was telling my friend (who isn’t a Baccano! fan, but listens to me ramble) about my take on immortals and Czeslaw, and I don’t know where to put it, so!  It goes here.  As a warning, this is mostly me rambling and probably treads ground that has been talked about a lot in the past, but I hope it’s interesting anyway.

(This and the Infinity Train post is not a sign that I’m going to be more active in the future.  Social media and the prospect of interacting with other people’s posts still make me anxious.  Maybe one day.)

So!  The first thing to keep in mind is that change is a major theme in Baccano!.  No one is incapable of changing, but people have different relationships with it depending on who they are.  Czes can't believe that he has changed seventy years after Isaac & Miria stealing him despite clear evidence that he has.  Meanwhile, Nile actively resists change:  His greatest fear after becoming immortal was that he would become desensitized to the loss of human life and begin to devalue it, so he spent decades fighting in active war zones so that he'd never forget the reality of death.  This backfired, and instead left him inured to loss of life...but it's clear that he doesn't want to be this way?  Realizing that he's gotten to the point where his expression doesn't even change if someone dies is devastating for him.  Chane is the opposite:  While it's absolutely for the best that she stops being a hitwoman and killing machine for her father, softening up is terrifying to her because then she can't serve her father the way she wants to.   Czes is on the opposite end of the spectrum, because he wants to be better because he thinks he's a bad person (later on, he decides that he's the only bad person left in the world.  Sir.), but can't recognize it because he doesn't feel different.

And...this is pertinent to the older immortals in particular - I'd argue even moreso than with the younger ones.  Aside from the fact that the Elixir literally stops you from changing in the sense of age or injury...it also has to place inhibitors on your brain.  Your brain is, after all, a physical part of your body!  There are some....weird aspects about immortality that no one is able to figure out (for example, immortals can give birth; someone also pointed out that there are no examples of crying in reverse even though that's also a part of your body), but it's still safe to say that the brain doesn't age either because then...then a lot of the cast would be catatonic from Alzheimer's.  Even without that, the human body can only retain so many memories.  If an immortal's brain had the ability to deteriorate over time or overload based off of the amount of memories it contains....well, I don't think any of the older immortals would be able to function.  Szilard definitely wouldn't be able to function (and neither would Firo after he devours Szilard) because Szilard has the memories of over a dozen people running around in his brain.  Which brings me to my next point:  If an immortal's brain functioned like a human's, devouring would not work as a concept.  One of the hallmarks of being immortal is gaining other people's memories.  Imagine the strain that would cause.  And yet, it doesn't seem to be a problem!  The chief worry of those who have devoured other immortals is worrying that having the memories of the other person might change you consciously or subconsciously.  This is Firo's concern over devouring Szilard.

So...the fact that the brain doesn't physically grow older or change (with some leniency given because real world science sure is iffy here)...feels relevant because, mn...

Many of the older immortals feel stagnant, or stuck in time.  Firstly, if the immortals changed at the same pace as a human being, I don't think most of them would be recognizable from one era to the other.  And yet, they are!  The Victor Talbot of the 1700s is clearly the same person as the Victor Talbot of the 1930s, albeit with alterations (because what kind of person would stay exactly the same after centuries?).  The answer to that question is Elmer, by the way.  Everyone comments on how he acts just like the Elmer they remember back in the day.  But Elmer is a special case, seeing as he's our local empty shell and probable sociopath (not that he has ASPD!  ASPD, sociopathy and psychopathy all present and function entirely differently from each other, which makes it....strange that they're lumped under the same umbrella - but that's another matter).  Secondly, immortals...Uhm, they all handle grief horribly, and seem to feel stuck in the past?  Maiza, for instance, acts starkly different from his past as a rebellious noble-boy gang member, but he's never forgiven himself for giving Gretto the information that led to his death.  (Gretto being his brother.)  Huey's overarching goal is to bring his dead girlfriend back to life, and he's been working towards this goal for centuries.  Sylvie, who admittedly was not an immortal when Gretto died, held off on drinking the Elixir until she was all grown up, then set out to finding Szilard to take revenge on him for killing the boy she had run away with.  This lasted for, you guessed it, centuries.

This isn't to say that immortals don't change, or even that they don't change drastically.  I mentioned Nile, who became inured to death after fighting in war for decades.  Czes went from a trusting, innocent child to someone paranoid and self-centered enough to try and get an entire train car's worth of people killed for his own safety to someone who wants to be a good person, but thinks he never will be and that there's something fundamentally wrong with him.  But changing appears to be very, very difficult, and happens over an extended period of time in response to extreme situations.

And...this is particularly relevant to Czes (who keeps coming up as an example because he's the main person I'm thinking about with this tangent) because....it arguably hits him harder than any of the others due to being a child.  Only the best decisions were made aboard the Advenna Avis, which includes letting the eight year old drink the immortality elixir.  But...mn.  It's one thing to be perpetually in your thirties, or twenties, or sixties, and another altogether to perpetually be eight years old.  Czes can't truly 'grow up' even though he has more life experience than most adults combined, and it shows in his extreme emotional reactions, his self-centeredness, ect.  There's a certain misconception about anime-only fans that he's an adult in a child's body, but I think it's easier to tell in the light novels that that's not the case, especially since you see what he's like back before the Advenna Avis.  (He is shy.  Very shy.  Did nothing wrong ever.)  Also, the fact that SAMPLE goes, "Yes!  The perfect sacrifice!" when they specifically take a child to target emphasizes this.  It's not proof - I'm pretty sure that SAMPLE would focus on his physical age as an 'eternal child', and may or may not have the resources to analyze him and go, "This boy is still eight years old in his head," - , but it hammers the point home.

Then...mn.  One thing that's stuck out to me ever since the start is how long Czes was with Fermet.  There's such a thing as learned helplessness, and it's not like Czes had anywhere to go, so that's not what is odd to me...especially when Fermet is known for manipulating people, and could definitely seed the idea that Czes can't go anywhere.  More than physical proximity, I think about how long Czes believed in Fermet.  It's explicitly stated that Czes absorbing Fermet's memories is what made him realize that - oh, Fermet was just sadistic and everything he said was an excuse.  And...I think this is both an example of being controlled in many respects, and....another example of an immortal being stuck in the past - but in a very, very different way.

First off, learning that the people you look up to want to harm you is...difficult at best, especially when you're younger?  But being mentally 'stuck' at a certain age would make things worse, because Czes is perpetually an age where it's natural to depend on a parental figure, and at an age where the brain isn't equipped to make those kinds of calls or realizations.  There's also the matter of cognitive dissonance!  Cognitive dissonance means a lot of things, but essentially, it's the idea that you have two conflicting beliefs, but the actions you take can retroactively alter your beliefs/place emphasis on one more than the other, as the mind is predisposed to reduce dissonance.  I...take issue with how cognitive dissonance is interpreted because many examples don't account for the beliefs or opinions not being equal in the first place, but that's not the point.  The point is that, as a child, the impulse to reduce dissonance is present while also being played against difficulty reading intentions, perceiving the world outside of yourself, and thinking critically.  (For what it's worth, abusers also tend to discourage critical thinking because it damages their narrative, which would also play a part.)   So, for example...

Say that, theoretically, Czes was yelled at every time he questions the idea that Fermet's intentions are right, or that maybe Fermet doesn't have his best interests in mind.  (Czes is insightful, and they lived with each other for a long time, so this probably happened at least once unless the text directly contradicts me.)  This is tame compared to the things we know about his time with Fermet, but ignore that.  The desire to not be yelled at would lead him to hurriedly agree later on, and cognitive dissonance means that you're inclined to try to make your beliefs agree with your actions.  In other words, the more he plays along, the more his brain tells him that he definitely believes this, and it makes perfect sense to!  Fermet has shown that he cares about him, and took him in after his grandfather died, so of course.  It only makes sense.  And it's even harder for him to bridge the gap to a different conclusion because of how difficult it seems to be for immortals to change.  It's only when Czes devours Fermet (or...or at least gets his memories) that everything snaps into place, because he can't reconcile that no matter how hard he tries (coincidentally, this also happens when he gets memories of being an adult, and while I seriously doubt that Czes went through Fermet's memories willingly, it kind of hammers my point about how difficult being eternally young would make things).  So of course he snaps as hard as he does.  It'd be kind of amazing if he didn't, honestly.

TLDR:  Being immortal made it even harder for him to recognize or comprehend his trauma.  Sorry for that.

[netheritenugget]

Alright, I'll bite. What sort of King is Eret here? And what manner of monster?

Sorry this took so long!  I had too much fun writing this post and it’s super long now.  Oops.

(I made a couple of posts about a Dream SMP Undertale AU)

If you’re good at reading between the lines this post contains major spoilers for Undertale. I know the game has been out for ages, but if you care, block the tag "Dream SMP Undetale AU"

IRL Eret is very fond of ferrets and flamingos, and they're very cool animals, but they aren’t that intimidating for a monster design.  But Eret also likes bears (their stuffed bear Ted is their unofficial channel mascot) and that's definitely boss-monster material.  So I think Eret would be a bear monster of some kind, just for the sheer intimidation factor.

I think Eret would be a good king, policy-wise.  They'd do their best to bring hope to the Underground, and they wouldn't be the one collecting human souls in this AU, that's someone else who is well-known for killing people (:  As for how people perceive them, and how they got there...  Welllll...

Eret wasn't the first King, that title goes to Wilbur, who was the King when the War of Humans And Monsters happened.  Eret was loyal back then, but that loyalty wavered when the monsters lost the war, and it fell apart when the realities of living underground made the other monsters restless and bitter.  Many people blamed Wilbur for losing.  Eret did too, and became very outspoken against him.

Dream took advantage of Eret's anger, poisoning his mind and feeding his resentment, and encouraged them to challenge Wilbur to a duel for the crown, telling them they'd be a much better king than he is. (:  Eret challenged Wilbur, but the duel was not to the death, it was points based, though of course with all duels the chance of death is there.  Eret won without killing him, though, and Wilbur gave them the crown.  He was naturally extremely upset about being dethroned, but otherwise everything was fine.

Until Wilbur ended up murdered the next day.  The first suspect was Eret but there was no actual evidence who the culprit was, since monsters turn to dust after death and there weren't any witnesses.  Eret's reputation is damaged, faith in their leadership shaken.

The Player arrives in Cogchamp (the Ruins) after their initial meeting with Dream is interrupted by Fundy before Dream can kill them.  Fundy tries to talk to him, but he just runs away, claiming that the situation is "too awkward."  The player learns that Fundy is living there to escape the emotional turmoil of losing his father and his doubts that Eret isn't as innocent as he claims.  Fundy misses Eret very much, wondering if they were alright after he left, and saying that he wants to go fishing with them when he goes back, like he and Wilbur used to.

Fundy gives us some lore about Dream.  Fundy stopped being friends with him after Dream got very suddenly "too Weirdchamp" about everything. Fundy says he's seen Dream with a human who fell down before, but he never saw the human again, even though he looked all over. Dream denied it when he asked.

Fundy also fills the role of acquainting the Player with game mechanics, though he's much more chaotic and prankish, and the Player becomes his friend.  He tries to prevent the Player from leaving Cogchamp because he's lonely, but ultimately relents because he knows he can’t bring himself to hurt someone who was nice to him.  Unless it's a Genocide Route, in which Fundy doesn't try to fight the Player, and instead flees to the rest of the Underground, to warn Eret and the other monsters. </3

But this post is about Eret, I'm getting sidetracked here.

Everyone else's reactions to current events is mixed.  Some monsters like Hbomb and Puffy stubbornly believe that Eret didn’t kill Wilbur, others like Purpled are just upset that they felt the need to overthrow him in the first place.  The Sleepy Bois want them dead for killing their family, and are planning to assassinate them.

Niki is the closest to Eret, and talks about them the most.  She talks about how they were her emotional rock during the War, and that though they're still good friends, she's seen less and less of them lately, and they don't smile as much anymore.

Despite how things turned out, Eret still tries their best to be a good King, and bring people hope.  Whenever the Player goes to a new area and finds a new box for items, they always find a piece of "you matter <3 - Eret" item inside that grants temporary defense.  Eret also built a lot of important public facilities in the Underground outside of Cogchamp, like a museum in which the Player learns of Wilbur’s heroism in the War of Humans And Monsters.  They also built several bridges and an aquarium for monsters in Waterfall (because of the water level problems Waterfall is having).

Much like Asgore, the Player's opinion of Eret is based entirely on what others have to say about them. The Player might feel strongly that they're too nice to have done something like this, and something else is going on, or that Eret definitely could have killed Wilbur and the Sleepy Bois are right to seek justice for a wrong that has been committed.

Boss Battles:

For Eret's boss fight in the Genocide Route...  Oh boy.

Eret’s fight isn't as difficult as Technoblade’s would be, but it’s difficult because you can't damage Eret in the beginning.  In spite of Eret's protests, Niki comes to try to protect them, shielding Eret from all damage until you kill her.  Then Eret goes into a sorrow-fueled rage and enters into "No-one Knows" mode, removing their sunglasses.  They use their last words to beg the Player to find enough mercy in their heart to Spare Fundy.

The last person the Player kills in the Genocide run is indeed Fundy, who Eret was hiding in the Castle.  It's not a fight, it's just murder.  It's very sad.

Before the boss fight in the Neutral Route, we're privy to a conversation between Eret and Ghostbur, in which Ghostbur comes to visit the castle. Eret tells Ghostbur they're sorry for everything they've done, and that taking his place was the biggest mistake of their life.  Ghostbur claims other people say they killed him, and asks if Eret did.  Eret avoids the question, stating that they've already told Wilbur the truth about what happened many times, there's no point if he can’t remember.  Ghostbur presses the question, stating that even if he'll forget later, he'd like to know, because he does remember being Eret's friend, and he's worried about them.  The Player is noticed before Eret can answer him.

Eret fights the Player alone.  Eret admits to the Player that they should probably be a good sport and just die, they don’t want to hurt a child, but they know the Player needs their soul to leave, and they're too afraid of death not to try and fight.

When they lose, they lament that things turned out this way because they thought they could do a better job than Wilbur, and that they can't seem to do anything right as a King or a mentor to Fundy.  They try to give up their soul to the Player, who spares them.

Only for Dream to kill them, steal the soul, and destroy it.  Because he's Dream.  Dream also reveals to the Player that he was the one who killed Wilbur, because the underground is boring and he needs entertainment. He's been collecting human souls, not to destroy the barrier with, but to become God.  Dream goes Photoshop Flowey Mode and fights the Player.

Pacifist Route:

After completing the Neutral route and starting the Pacifist Route, the Player is pointed in toward Eret's castle basement by Dream.  The Player discovers a Necromancy Lair (a creepy equivalent to the True Lab in Dr. Alphy's house) with the Wilbur resurrection shrine in it.  Once the Player finds the scattered pages torn out of Eret’s diary, it's revealed that Eret suspects Dream killed Wilbur, but they have no proof.  The diary talks about how Ghostbur was the result of a secret project by Eret, their failure to revive Wilbur.  Their diary also informs us that Dream often comes to torment them about this, taunting them about they'd just made things worse.  Eret questions whether or not to step down as King, but wonders who would be able to take responsibility, since Prince Fundy is missing.

The Player also finds a book by someone named "Callahan" about dreamon summoning that Eret was researching (and deemed too dangerous to use, due to the warnings within).

In the final fight against Dream, the Player can Save Eret by giving them pink wool, and reminding them that they matter to Fundy, Niki and the Player.

At the end of the Pacifist run, Eret and Fundy reconcile.  Eret crowns Fundy King, and declares that this is how it should have been from the beginning.  IDK if Wilbur is revived or not, depends on how bittersweet of an ending I want, maybe Ghostbur just has their memories restored without bringing them back to life?  But during the end credits, the three of them can be seen fishing together.

[terramythos]

TerraMythos 2021 Reading Challenge - Book 3 of 26

Title: Acceptance (The Southern Reach #3) (2014) - REREAD

Author: Jeff VanderMeer

Genre/Tags: Horror, Science Fiction, Ecological Horror, Cosmic Horror, Weird, First-Person, Second-Person, Third-Person, Unreliable Narrator, Female Protagonists, LGBT Protagonist

Rating: 10/10

Date Began: 1/11/2021

Date Finished: 1/20/2021

Area X, a self-aware wilderness along the coast, has existed for decades behind a mysterious border. The landscape itself annihilates humans and repurposes them for its own ends. Hundreds of people have died attempting to uncover its secrets. But no one has yet discovered its origins or true purpose.

Now, Area X has spread past its former borders, perhaps to the entire world. Acceptance follows several key figures through the history of Area X, and their attempts to fight against an impossible threat.  

You feel numb and you feel broken, but there’s a strange relief mixed in with the regret: to come such a long way, to come to a halt here, without knowing how it will turn out, and yet... to rest. To come to rest. Finally. All your plans back at the Southern Reach, the agonizing and constant fear of failure or worse, the price of that... all of it leaking out into the sand beside you in gritty red pearls. 

Full review, major spoilers, and content warning(s) under the cut.

Content warnings for the book: Extreme body horror, altered states of mind, and psychological manipulation, including hypnosis. Several characters lose their sanity, and you see it happen in real time from their perspective. Intentional self-harm/mutilation as a plot point. Some violence and gore. There are brief references to animal abuse and terminal cancer. Not many happy endings in this one.  

This review contains major series spoilers. It’s also super long, as the book covers a lot of material. 

Acceptance is the most narratively ambitious book in the Southern Reach trilogy. While Annihilation and Authority feature a single protagonist/perspective, this one has four rotating POVs and one guest narrator partway through the book. It also covers a broader timeline than previous entries, from the origins of Area X 30-ish years ago to the ongoing present-day apocalypse. Acceptance is one of the few books I've read that utilizes first-, second-, AND third-person narration in a single volume, adopting whichever one makes the most sense for the character and their situation

While this sounds complicated, it's basically just a way to tell four different stories at the same time. VanderMeer also uses each storyline to address the major questions of the series. How did Area X come to be? What happened to the biologist? What was the former director of the Southern Reach trying to accomplish? And perhaps most pressing-- what is the fate of the world now that Area X has spread? Not everything is resolved, but it's definitely a conclusion.

The stories have some unifying connections, containing similar themes and callbacks/references to each other. However, for the purposes of this review I will be looking at each story and protagonist individually.

First up is Saul Evans the lighthouse keeper. He's been mentioned before, but never in much detail. Going in, we know a few things-- (1) he knew the director/Cynthia when she was a child and (2) something happened to him that turned him into the Crawler, the eldritch creature which writes the sermon on the walls of the tower in Area X. In Acceptance, we learn he's a former preacher who had a crisis of faith and left his old life, taking up the role of lighthouse keeper on the forgotten coast. It's implied this is partially due to him realizing he's gay and fleeing the resulting homophobic fallout. His past vocation explains the elevated, sermonic language of the words in the tower.

From the onset Saul is an intensely likeable character. He's trying to build a happier and more genuine life for himself. This part probably takes place during the 70s or 80s, but he's cautiously optimistic about his new life with a local fisherman named Charlie. He also forms an unlikely friendship with Gloria (aka Cynthia), a local kid who loves exploring the coast. However, he is tormented by the "Séance and Science Brigade", a shady organization that investigates/worships(?) paranormal phenomena. They sabotage the lighthouse beacon, which we learned in Authority is a marvelous piece of technology with a mysterious history. Shortly after, Saul accidentally absorbs a fragment of the beacon into himself, and shit goes downhill real fast.

While the catalyst of Area X may seem a little weird, the reader can piece together that part of the beacon has extraterrestrial origins, and Saul unintentionally activates part of it. The gradual shift from a normal life to something deeply unsettling has its appeal. I especially like seeing his logs/journal entries and how they devolve as proto-Area X overtakes his mind. The disturbing bar scene near the end is great as well. We know going in that this story has a bad ending (from a human perspective), but learning specifics about Saul as a person gives this more impact. Saul's is a sad tale of a man who wants to make a better life for himself and gets screwed over by bad luck.

Cynthia/Gloria/the former director is the next perspective character. In Annihilation she serves as the antagonist, but in Authority we learn it isn't that simple. She had ulterior motives, handpicking the biologist for the expedition in order to use her as a weapon against Area X. And, of course, we learn she was the little girl in that old picture of Saul, which means she probably grew up there before the border came down. 

This part opens with Cynthia/Gloria's death as "the psychologist" in Annihilation, but told from her perspective. From there, the pacing is a little slow, in similar style to Authority. We learn how Cynthia lived her daily life, how she infiltrated the Southern Reach, and her interpersonal relationships with Grace, Whitby, and Lowry. However, her storyline ramps up when detailing Area X and the lead up to twelfth expedition. Lots of old scenes/dynamics from Annihilation hit different with the new context. Especially interesting is the interview between Cynthia and the biologist; turns out there was a lot more context that the biologist obscured in her story. On some level we already knew she was an unreliable narrator, but it's fun to have it pop up again in a different book entirely.

I admire how VanderMeer makes someone who comes off as a throwaway villain into the one of the most complex, important characters in the series. This part is also really cool as it's written in second-person perspective, and the story justification for this (Area X examining her memories) is neat. While I like Cynthia's characterization in this part, the additional bits in Saul's story and his interactions with Gloria add helpful context and emotional impact. The end of the book being her letter to Saul is so damn sad.

The third main storyline follows Control and Ghost Bird in the "current" timeline-- exploring Area X in the immediate fallout of Authority. I love this part for several reasons. The contrast between the two leads and how they perceive themselves, Area X, and the current situation is great. Control is very much losing control, feeling "the brightness" taking over (a callback to Annihilation). Meanwhile, Ghost Bird is in her element, seeing and experiencing things the regular human characters do not. There's the sense that she's truly something "new" in terms of both humanity and Area X.

We also learn a ton of stuff about Area X that is hinted in earlier volumes but confirmed in Acceptance. (MAJOR SPOILERS) The first is that Area X isn't on Earth at all; something briefly hinted at in Annihilation, when the biologist doesn't recognize the stars in the sky.  Instead it mimics Earth, or something representative of it. The second big thing is that time works differently here. The uncanny state of decay noted in earlier books isn't actually a direct result of Area X. It's just the passage of time, because way more time passes in Area X compared to the "real" world.

The guest narrator/story is told within the Control/Ghost Bird storyline. The two meet up with Grace, who has managed to survive the Area X attack on the Southern Reach. She took shelter on the mysterious northern island and discovered an old journal written by... the biologist from Annihilation, which details what happened to her over the last THIRTY YEARS (yeah, the time thing) until she finally decided to give into Area X.

This section is sobering and sad; basically a glimpse at how the biologist's isolation slowly made her go mad. She finds an owl (hello cover) that she believes is her husband post Area X conversion and the two live together for decades. When it dies, the biologist loses the will to keep fighting Area X. It's ambiguous if the owl really is her husband, or if she's just projecting, but her heartbreak at the end is probably the strongest emotion she shows in the series. But what is interesting about this part is it confirms a cool detail. Injury and pain can halt the progression of "the brightness" within someone. Which is how the biologist managed to survive 30 years, how Grace survived what turns out to be 3 years, and so on. Even more interesting, when someone DOES finally succumb after warding off the brightness this way, they turn into something more strange and alien. Hence the moaning creature, and Saul/the Crawler. It's also probably why some creatures have incongruencies, like the dolphins with human eyes.

The biologist? She transformed into a giant, oceanic eldritch abomination COVERED in eyes. Just primo aesthetic. We get to see her from both Ghost Bird and Control's perspectives. Ghost Bird feels solidarity and a sort of euphoria meeting her alternate self. Control... basically breaks in the face of something like that, full cosmic horror style. Again, the contrast here is really appealing to me.

Both of their story arcs end in a way that is narratively satisfying, though the ending is open. The future seems hopeful in a bittersweet way, but presumably Area X has destroyed humanity as we know it. Whether that's a good or bad thing depends on your perspective and is a central thesis of the series.

So, I said I'd discuss how this series approaches aliens. While there's an appeal to anthropomorphic alien species one can talk to and communicate with, I think an "unknowable" perspective is more realistic. After all, who's to say alien life formed under similar conditions or has any resemblance to our own? The extraterrestrial element in The Southern Reach is very much this type. But it's a fine line to walk in fiction, because handwaving the weird alien stuff as impossible to comprehend (and thus conveniently ducking any responsibility for explaining it) is lazy writing when done wrong.

The thing I find interesting about this series is the human characters understand lots of the what of the alien elements, but not the why. For example, Area X transforms humans into various plants and animals. We know it instills a sense of "brightness" in humans exposed for too long, which encourages assimilation into itself. Humans infected in this way, even if horrified or resistant, have thoughts of this being inevitable, even a good thing. The biologist takes samples in Annihilation and finds several plants and animals have human cells. Control logically knows what Area X does to people, but he is ultimately helpless to resist the process when he experiences it firsthand.

As for the why of it all... we don't really know! There's multiple ideas presented throughout the story. Ghost Bird probably gets closest to the "truth"; that Area X is part of a machine organism from a dead alien civilization, and that it has a bizarre effect on Earth's biology based on its now defunct programming. Other worlds would have their own Area Xes based on this idea, as it's implied the Earth version is just one piece of many. But it's worth noting that Ghost Bird is a creation of Area X and sees things differently than the other characters. Unreliable narration is ironically consistent through the series. So it's hard to say if this is true or not; perhaps it's silly to think any explanation would be understandable to a human mind. Obsession with finding the answer is a recurring theme that drives characters insane. I think this is an interesting compromise when discussing the unknowable; to have some facts and theories but not necessarily a concrete answer. 

If I have a criticism for this book, it's the role of the "Séance and Science Brigade", especially in Saul's storyline. While they're set up earlier in the series, we only really see them in this book. Our limited perspective via Saul leaves a lot of ambiguity as to their purpose, function, and goals. There's an implication that Control's family influenced the organization's decision to sabotage the beacon and create Area X. But I consider the subplot with Control's mom/grandfather to be one of the weaker ones in the series, and this book didn't help. The S&SB comes off as campy and ineffectual, which is perhaps intentional? But since they're narratively the fanatics who caused Area X to happen, I really wish they felt more sinister and impactful. There's some attempt to make them scary, but it's not very convincing when compared to Area X. Kind of like a Saturday morning cartoon villain vs the unknowable cosmic horror of the universe. This is a nitpick, though.

While rereading the series, I discovered there's a planned fourth book which may or may not star a minor character from Saul's story. I'm interested to see what else there is to explore about Area X and the Southern Reach. As it stands, I still really like this series. Between the horror and general weirdness, it's not for everyone, but it sure does appeal to me. I think this is one of those series that you'll either adore or hate. Obviously I recommend it.

[trashyazeohane]

Perforated stars

Part 1/Part 2

Summary: There was another string of silence, a sudden heartbeat that leaped in his chest, a compassionate exhale.

Then Gary interlocked their small fingers together and let their hands rest on the pillow above Little Cato’s head.

“The three of us against the world? I like that. I would like that. It sounds absolutely fricking amazing.”

Avocato ginned tiredly under his nose.

Additional comments: Fluff, Slow Burn, Angst

Not beta-read, so it may contain some mistakes!

You can also read it on AO3! Enjoy!

Part II ミ★

Avocato was confused. It was a feeling he got familiar with. Welcomed even. Comforting. Soft as a delicate hue coming from the cosmic dust. Similar to a warmness of a sun touching the skin.

But that confusion this time rested in him. In his behavior. In his way of perceiving the world. He was fairly sure he knew himself to the deepest core. He knew all the ticks, all the gears, all the hidden doors that he had shut and then had covered with wooden planks.

He thought he knew himself entirely. That he knew his needs and when he could stop.

But he was never so wrong.

He had thought that what he had been feeling had been a passing trace, a sudden momentum, a guest that had popped in for a light coffee and tea before going on its merry way. But the feeling had stayed for days, then for weeks which slowly had morphed into months.

It stayed even now.

And the feeling was getting stronger. It had found a warm, cozy home inside his heart and didn’t plan on leaving.

Avocato was confused about that.

“Everything alright, dad?”

“Yeah, uh, sure, everything is okay.”

“Are you really very much incredibly sure?” Little Cato nudged, looking up at him with cunning eyes.

“I think Gary is rubbing off on you.” Avocato sighed.

“Am I doing what now?” Gary asked, leaning above table to glance at them.

It took a lot from Avocato to not suddenly jump in place, but he did indeed feel the fur on his back standing up. How had he not noticed or heard Gary walking up to him, while he had been observing him literally ten seconds ago, was a mystery.

Damn, that sounded bad. He hadn’t been staring at Gary in any weird way, he had been just staring and Gary had happened to be in his line of vision.

(It was a lie he was telling himself everyday to feel better, but it rarely worked nowadays. It rarely had worked in the past.)

“Dad is saying that you rub off on me too much.” Little Cato said, swishing his tail back and forth and resting his paws on the table to hoist himself higher.

“And is that a bad thing?” Gary hesitantly asked, lifting his eyebrow and glancing at Avocato.

He swallowed hard.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way. It’s just… he has a lot of similar to yours behaviors right now. Not necessarily bad.” Avocato sighed. He really felt like he was explaining things to kids. Which was true only in one case.

Gary suddenly burst. In the good meaning of this word. His mouth stretched in a wide grin, so wide and bright that it would shadow even the brightest sun. His hand moved to wrap around Little Cato, who yelped in return, not expecting a sudden show of affection.

“Aww our little boy is finally taking after the more handsome dad.” Gary cooed, moving his fingers through the blue locks.

“Dad, stop. ugh, you’re messing my hair!” Little Cato whined, trying to swat the attacking hand away.

“You don’t know that natural look is the latest trend in fashion!?”

“Who told you that?”

“Ash?”

Little Cato sighed.

“Don’t listen to Ash.”

“Why shouldn’t dad listen to me?”

Everyone turned their heads in the direction of the door where Ash stood, looking at them with quite bored look.

Little Cato huffed.

“Because clearly you give bad fashion advices.”

“Pff says who.” The girl snorted, grinning delicately, although a little bit maliciously. “A person who thinks that jeans with holes are stylish.”

Avocato would be a bit angry that she was speaking to his son like that, if he didn’t actually start to like her too. She had fire inside of her and he respected that. Plus Little Cato never was offended by their bickers, so why should Avocato be? His son could clearly stand his own ground when he wanted to.

“Hey, those are stylish.” Little Cato said, although his voice was a tad quieter and more uneven than before.

“In your dreams.” Ash smirked at him. “Now when we come to dreams, I walked past your room a few nights ago and I heard quite–“

One interesting thing about Ventrexians – they were fast. Lightning fast if they felt that they were in any danger. The muscles could contract ten times faster than usual after the instinct went off and the small doze of hormones got into the head.

Just like right now, when Little Cato leaped toward the door, reaching with his hands to shush Ash by clapping his paws across the mouth.

And clearly the girl knew what kind of reaction she was getting from his son. Because she was prepared for it, laughing like crazy while floating away from the common room, leaving pinkish clouds after herself and angry shouts coming from Little Cato who followed her.

So that was an interesting development.

“That was well… that was something.” Gary coughed, clearing his throat first and then glancing at Avocato.

Who wanted to look away, but found out that he couldn’t.

“Something is definitely a good word to use here, yes.”

The male laughed, a short sound that seemed to rattle the chest – a tad embarrassed, a tad hesitant, but still warm.

“Kids.”

Avocato only smiled in return.

Gary grabbed a tablet from the table and clicked a few buttons on the screen, coming up with a map of the nearest galaxy and the star systems. A soft bluish hue lighted up his face, making the wrinkles beneath the eyes and around the mouth more visible than before.

(They had to land somewhere to fill the tanks. And the ship also needed some repairs, so spare parts would be also greatly needed. Luckily currently they were far away from any enemy.)

Gary moved his fingers across the screen, enlarging a specific part of the map and looking closer at the plants inhabiting this part of the universe. His mouth moved, almost like he was speaking to himself, but no words were coming out. The eyebrows furrowed, got closer to each other and then smoothened when a sweet grin split the lips and eyes shone with happiness.

It often happened when Gary came up with a plan.

There were another several quick taps, sudden blink of the eyes, spark so bright that it could put any sun to shame, another soft snort leaving the lips, accompanying that grin which simply took Avocato’s breath away whenever he was seeing it.

It made him want to do things, things he shouldn’t be doing. Yet the traitorous images, ideas, possibilities still sneaked into his mind, making a comfortable nest there, nearby his ears, so they could whisper sweet promises into them.

A tilt to the right, three blinks, a twitch of the nose, similar to a sniff, puffed out cheeks, turn to the left, a scratch on the chin, pinched lips, confusion clearly written in the eyes, replaced quickly by an understatement.

He wondered if Little Cato caught up to Ash.

“Is there something on my face?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve been starring, so I assumed that I you know… I have something there.” Gary said, clearing his throat first and then lifting his face up from the screen.

Avocato’s brain lagged, with errors jumping in front of his eyes.

“I… no, ugh… you have nothing there. I just got lost in thoughts. And you just happened to be in my line of vision.”

It wasn’t that, but the truth was even worse. Worse than black hole pulling in. Worse than the blazing heat of the nearest star.

And it had to be Avocato’s eyes playing tricks on him. Some kind of error in the space-time line of events. Some mistake during the formation of atoms. Because he could swear he saw Gary being sad about Avocato’s answer. But it couldn’t be possible. He couldn’t be dishearten about such thing.

He simply couldn’t.

“Oh okay.”

Gary returned to scrolling through the screen.

Avocato took off the gun from his belt, put it on the counter and started to disassemble it, cleaning specific parts which were rusted due to the passing time.

They sat in the room for a pretty long time, not speaking, just being there, with Gary scrolling through the tablet and Avocato simply cleaning the gun.

Yet Avocato couldn’t simply stop himself from stealing a few glances at his companion. And whenever theirs stares crossed, his mind played another set of tricks on him as he was seeing Gary blush a bit and smiling wider under his nose.

***

Avocato wasn’t a very emotional being. Living and serving Lord Commander had been a tough life, a never ending enigma filled with cold stress that could break the bones and force the hearts into submission. Emotions had been something that had had to be kept under control.

Avocato had known the drill.

But when it came to Gary it seemed like all the lessons slipped past his mind, leaving only an empty space in the notebook. An hollow spot on the orbital after electron jumped off.

Gary made him want to do stuff he normally wouldn’t want.

Observing had been one of the most basic tasks he had had to do while being under Lord Commander’s rule. He had had to be constantly on watch, observing the situation in front of him, behind his right and left shoulder, beneath his feet and above his head, searching for any kind of anomalies. One mistake could cost him life.

Avocato was used to observing, knew for what to search, what kind of behaviors were suspicious, for what types of abnormalities to look in people, aliens and all other types.

But observing Gary had other annotations, other grounds beneath it.

He did it because he simply liked it, nothing more, nothing less. He could get lost in the time as he stared, feeling his heart beating loudly behind his ribcage, playing some strange cacophony that drummed through the bones and muscles.

He observed because it was safe. Only staring didn’t mean anything. It was just staring. Something natural. Something living beings did. And what if he was noticing things other didn’t – muscles nearby nose tensing as Gary had seen something displeasing or sudden twitch of lips as HUE was telling a joke. These were normal things. Ventrexians were perceptive, it didn’t mean much.

(Only the meaning had been set so long ago and Avocato was denying it on every step.)

Gary had one job.

One fucking job. Not getting lost. A simple job. Anyone could do it by following one of the teammates, family members even, holding onto their skirts or belts. It was an easy task, anyone could do it.

But not Gary. Definitely not Gary.

He just simply had to disappear in the middle of a fucking alien market, where the wanted posters with their faces were hanging everywhere.

“When I’ll see him I’m going to kill him so hard –“

“Not unless I’ll find him first.” Avocato mumbled, peeking into a space between the stalls.

Quinn glanced at him, but didn’t comment it.

They had been walking around the market for what seemed like hours, searching for the familiar mop of blond hair, dirty boots, brown jacket or metal hand sticking out of the crowd. With no luck.

“Seriously, you give this dumbass one job. One! Don’t get lost. Keep close to one of us and what does he do?” Quinn continued speaking with the words pouring from her mouth like atoms.

“He disappears.” Avocato gladly helped, muttering under his nose and turning his head left and right.

“He disappears, exactly!” Quinn sighed, pushing her hair away as she came to a stop at the intersection, because a wooden cart was just about to run her over. “He is probably laying in some ditch right now, with his insides out.”

The image wasn’t that pleasing, but unfortunately Avocato had to say it may be closer to the truth than they wanted.

He didn’t say anything, but nudged Quinn and they both ran forward, glancing frantically around, searching for the familiar hair, face, leg, hand, voice, just anything!

Nothing.

Gary could be already being shipped on an enemy ship towards the Lord Commander’s planet or nearby station, bound and beaten, with blood dripping from broken arm and legs. He could be laying in the dirt somewhere, already dead with ribs hollowed out by forceful kicks and covered with holes in size of bullets! He could be bleeding somewhere and they were –

“Avocato? Hey, wait up!”

Only now he noticed that he had been a good few meters away from Quinn who was now running to him, kinda out of breath.

Avocato tightened his fists.

“Okay…” Quinn inhaled deeply, touching her chest while exhaling later on. Her hands moved to a device on her wrist and brought up a holographic image of the area. “Clearly searching together doesn’t work, so we need to split up. I’ll take the north, and you’ll take the south part.” She continued, pointing at specific areas.

Avocato nodded. He liked that about Quinn, always being level-headed in stressful situations.

(Avocato usually was too, but there was something about Gary and Little Cato that made him frenzy inside. That made him suddenly hyper aware of all the possibilities that could be happening and he would be too slow, too far away, too incompetent to –)

“Hey, hey, woah, tiger, slow down your breathing. We’re going to find him! He’s probably alright, talking with some stranger about caterpillars or whatnots.”

Avocato felt her palm on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.

“I know, I know.” He said, moving his hand to pinch the eyes. “You’re right.”

“I’m always right.” Quinn added, smiling to him, probably hoping for a small joke, but Avocato wasn’t in a mood for jokes. “Hold tight, everything is going to be alright.” She turned off the holographic screen. “Meet me here in an hour?”

“Sure.”

Quinn sent him another smile and then swirled on her heel to run in the other direction.

Avocato turned too, took a few deep breaths to calm his racing mind and also started to move.

Time ticked by as Avocato passed stall after stall, maneuvering around bodies of various aliens. Their chatters were getting louder in his head with every step as his senses sparked to life. His eyes moved from left to right, needing only a sparse millisecond to assess the situation in front of him.

No sight of Gary here and here and here. He wasn’t in any alley Avocato checked. He wasn’t also nearby any stall that he passed.

He just had disappeared. Avocato knew that it wasn’t possible, but he didn’t have any other explanation than Gary disappearing from the planet, atoms of his being dismantling, moving away from each other, making the coherent image lose focus.

It wasn’t possible, but right now Avocato would believe it.

It was better to believe that Gary just had disappeared than that he was being brutally punched while being on his way to Lord Commander and Invictus. It was better to think he peacefully dispersed the molecules across the universe than to imagine cold shackles on bruised wrists with blood seeping from cuts across the abdomen.

Avocato ran and searched and ran and searched and ran with no good results. The images were getting worse in his head, the possibilities, the futures that could be unfolding in front of them more terrifying than anything he had lived through before.

(The last time he had felt like that had been when Lord Commander had taken Little Cato, had snapped him from his grasp like a rag doll and had hung above his unable to reach hands.)

The hour was coming to an end and Avocato was now one hundred percent sure that something had happened, that he had been too late, that the cold eyes were now blindly staring at the universe unfolding in front of him which –

“Twenty Roxanian rubles and we have a deal!”

“I told you sir one hundred times and I’ll tell you one hundred more. One thousand Roxanian rubles and you can have it. Other way no deal!”

“Twenty one?”

Avocato halted in his steps, almost crashing into some old lady who started cursing at him, and backed away to glance into an alleyway filled with shops, randomly laying boxes, vases, buckets and more.

And there, in the middle of it, standing in front of a small alien was Gary, with red cheeks as he flipped through the money in his hands.

Avocato would be relieved if the anger didn’t spike first, taking control over the fear that had spurted inside his body, forming a new, burning star. His feet quickly took him closer to the human who still didn’t notice his presence.

“No deal, mister.”

“Twenty one and a cool looking rock?”

“I already said –“

“Gary.”

Both Gary and the vendor turned their heads to Avocato.

“Oh hey man, I was just trying to buy…” The words halted in Gary’s mouth, gluing themselves to the tongue. “Is everything alright?”

Alright? Alright?! Gary dared to ask if everything was alright after he and Quinn had spent almost two hours searching for him!?

Avocato felt like exploding.

But in the end he only grabbed Gary’s hand and dragged him out of the alleyway and through the stalls towards the meeting point Quinn had assigned, holding tightly, maybe a little bit too forcefully.

But that grasp was a promise, was a confirmation that all the atoms were there, that Gary was fine, that he was trying to keep up with Avocato’s quick pace while tripping a few times. Everything was alright, no crew member was missing. Gary was there, behind him, walking, breathing, living. Nothing happened.

“Hey, Avocato, could you slow down a bit, let a human being catch up with you.”

But Avocato didn’t slow down, only tightened the grip and moved through the crowd, pushing aliens around.

There was a small gap between buildings, allowing easily for two people or alien beings to pass through, away from the curious eyes of the guards still looking for them.

Avocato directed their steps there, finding no comfort in the voices of the crowd quieting a bit.

“Hey, hey, man come on, please stop for a moment, I need to catch a breath.”

Catch a breath? Catch a breath!? He could have been dead with lungs not being able to fill up ever again, laying in a pool of his own blood and Avocato would be too slow to save him –

“Avocato, bro, everything alright?”

He halted and then turned around to the human who was looking at him with perplexed look.

“What have you been thinking?” Avocato quietly asked, feeling the anger slowly moving to the surface. Similar to a rocket reaching the thermosphere.

Gary blinked.

“What?”

“What have you been thinking! We told you not to wander off and what do you do a few minutes after stepping out of the ship? Walk away!” It seemed that Avocato couldn’t stop, that the more he spoke the faster and louder he was getting. “You know that there are people looking for us, just waiting to chop our heads off, but no, you just walk away from us to argue with a seller! Did you even think about that! About us? Quinn and I have been looking for you everywhere for almost two hours!“ He felt the fatigue inside his bones, inside his throat, the anger and fear so audible in his voice which shook and trembled. “What were we supposed to think when you suddenly disappeared like that with the enemies everywhere around? What do you think we –“

And then there was a soft hand on his cheek, a warm, human, living palm touching his skin.

“Hey, hey, hey it’s okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disappear. I just saw something cool and you know… followed it.” Gary said in a quiet voice.

“You could have been dead.”

“But I’m clearly not.” Gary happily added, but quickly ducked his head when Avocato glared at him. “Sorry, that was… well that was shitty of me to do. Sorry. I shouldn’t do that.”

Avocato inhaled deeply, suddenly feeling awfully lightheaded with the fire burning in his mind. Everything was alright. Everything was okay. Gary was alive, standing right in front of him. His heart was beating and his cheeks were red and his lungs were working and everything was really okay.

So why was Avocato having problems with believing it?

“Hey, hey, bro, my man, calm down, everything is fine and dandy. See, I’m okay, I’m okay.” Gary spoke in that soft tone he often used while speaking to Little Cato or whispering tiny goodbyes to him and the rest of the younger crew at the end of the day.

Gary wrapped his own hand around Avocato’s paw, where the warmness mixed with the coldness of the metal, and he moved it through the air to rest on his chest which was slowly moving up and down.

Avocato glanced down and looked back up at Gary’s hesitant, blushing, but smiling face.

“See, I’m okay. Everything is alright.”

Avocato inhaled shakily and straightened his fingers, pressing them into the living body, spreading them and feeling the clothes rumple beneath the touch. The heat was emanating from the chest as it slowly rose and fell. Behind it was a lone echo, a beating sensation so familiar, yet strange that shook Avocato’s core, but then made it more calm than ever. A sound of a beating heart.

Avocato exhaled and flexed his hand, but not moved it away, opting on keeping it there.

Gary didn’t loosen the hold on it either.

“I’m alive. Everything is fine.”

“You could have been dead.”

“But I am not. I’m fine.”

Avocato closed his eyes and evened his breathing, letting the heartbeat reverberate in his hand.

Only after a few seconds he opened his eyes.

“Just don’t do it again.”

Gary grinned, brightly and warmly, making Avocato’s own heartbeat accelerate like a starting ship engine.

“I’ll try.”

Avocato let out a dry laugh and shook his head, keeping his hand on the chest a tad longer than necessary before dropping it.

Gary sent him another smile.

They started their steady journey back to Quinn one more time.

Only after exiting back into the loud world of the bright stalls, Avocato dared to ask:

“What grabbed your attention back there anyway?”

“Oh.” Gary said, opening his mouth a bit. “That guy there was selling Oppy and I tried to buy it.”

“Oppy?” Avocato parroted.

“Opportunity, one of the Mars rovers?”

“I have no fucking idea what that is.”

Gary pouted and started a very long explanation, describing in details exactly what he had seen back at the vendor’s stall.

Quinn was both happy and mad after meeting them and she didn’t wait a second to punch Gary hard, before sweeping him in a tight hug that almost crushed his ribs. And after getting to know the story, she even let out a broken laughter while hearing about Gary’s sudden affection.

“It couldn’t be the real Oppy.”

“Why not?”

“The real Oppy was like one and a half meters tall. And the one you saw was like what? Barely half a meter?”

“It could be the real Oppy but shrunken! Like Avocato shrank on that weird bioluminescent planet!”

“Whatever you say, Gary.” Quinn said, shrugging, clearly admitting to defeat.

Gary even argued that it had to be the real robot when they were walking back to the ship. He still did it when Avocato broke away from them, sent Quinn a quick message about his whereabouts and moved back to the stalls.

***

Avocato wasn’t a needy being per se. He clearly had his needs and things he wanted, but most of the time he could control it.

But when it came to safety it seemed like his mind was stopping working correctly, making him do things he normally wouldn’t do.

(Like buying that stupid piece of junk called Oppy Junior which now proudly roamed  the ship, not doing anything productive or necessary, but putting smiles on some faces. And well keeping people safe by simply being there.)

Avocato had to admit he always had had a problem with worrying too much and trying to keep his sparse loved ones safe. He only had noticed it after Little Cato had been born. It had only taken him a second to know that he would do everything to protect that smile or grimace.

Back when he had been under Lord Commander’s command and Little Cato had been out late, Avocato had stayed up all night, waiting for his son to come back, pacing nervously around the house.

He had seen too much not to be worried. And in Little Cato’s case it all had been justified, considering what had happened in the end. Before all of that he had been scared, but then he had been terrified and horrified. It had been only a possibility before, yet his nightmares had become reality.

The chances were against them.

They had to admit that they were living in a state of constant fear, with Invictus and Lord Commander being only a few steps behind them, breathing onto their necks with sick smiles.

Avocato was overprotective. When he wasn’t sure what was happening with his close ones he was starting to panic, losing footing beneath himself.

At the beginning it had been only Little Cato, but then the circle had grown, expanded, swallowing more and more people. Like a black hole, using the gravitational field to pull everyone in.

Avocato couldn’t imagine losing his son. Neither could he imagine losing Gary.

So sometimes he could overreact. He could feel his mind getting frenzy and heart accelerate with the sudden need striking through it to do something.

“Faster!”

“I am going as fast as I can!”

“Well then we need to go even faster!”

“The engines won’t withstand it.”

“They are gaining on us!”

Gary huffed, tightening his grip on the stick. There were a few droplets of sweat rolling down the forehead and cheeks like comets about to crash down.

“Nightfall, how are our weapons?” Avocato asked into the mic, keeping it close to his mouth and staring at the cosmos becoming a blur behind the ship walls.

There was a creak and static jumping left and right.

“Almost dead. We don’t have much time.” The woman exhaled, clearly irritated by something.

A sudden explosion nearby quickly gave Avocato insight into what she was pissed about.

The whole ship shivered in its wake, moving spastically from left to right, while rotating.

AVA’s robotic voice echoed in the room.

“We’re taking critical damage. If we don’t move away soon I think we will be –“

“Toasted?” Hue proposed.

“Yes, toasted.”

Toasted was a faint and light word to use in their current situation. Avocato would say that they were currently staring into Death’s eyes and taunting her. But she was only staring at them, with a kind smile on her lips, like they were a bunch of kids playing on the playground.

(And maybe to her they were.)

“Gary!” Quinn hissed, gripping tightly her seat and looking through the window.

“I know, I know!”

Avocato could understand being terrified and stressed. He was scared too. Even more than scared. He felt the adrenaline taking control over his muscles, seizing them, making his brain work at top speed, forcing the oxygen through his lungs at faster pace. The sweat rolled down his paws and he wasn’t even the one piloting the ship.

Everyone could feel the bitter breath of death on their necks, a freezing blow that could overtake the core, make even the brightest star die and crumble down.

Gary bit down his lip, drawing blood.

“AVA I need you to activate the dimensional drop drive on my command and then after two hundred meters light fold the ship!”

“Gary –“

“Just… on my command.” The second part was added in a quieter tone of voice, almost like a plead that was thrown to the wind.

Everyone inside the bridge quieted down and tightened the grip on whatever they could hold onto without anyone prompting them too. Everyone was conscious of the consequences. Everyone also knew what would happen if they failed.

Avocato stared at Gary – at their so-called captain who had clung tightly to the role, to the position, to this point everyone had started to respect that.

(In the whole crew’s mind, at some point of their journey, this seat had been taken by an overly enthusiastic person.)

He stared at the furrowed eyebrows, at the scared, but focused eyes, at the pinched in a tight line lips with a drop of blood gathering at the corner, at the shaking hands which gripped tightly the controls, tighter and tighter and how Avocato wished he could –

“Now!”

It all happened almost in the blink of an eye. For a moment Avocato floated in a blissful state where gravitation was an abstract, something that was only a theory or an additional letter in a formula. Everything inside of him squeezed as images of his son jumped in front of his eyes, hoping that Little Cato was alright, that even if something happened he would be able to get out, escape, move far away from here, disperse somehow.

Avocato prayed that his son was alright.

His lungs hurt and his chest swelled as he desperately proportioned energy to the segments of the barrier which now really needed it, trying to protect the most important parts of the ship in the same time.

He felt like he was floating, like he was here and not, both in the same time. He was made of matter and antimatter, mixing and swirling together as the danger licked their necks, clawed their arms and wrapped them in a cold embrace, tightening the chains on the throats –

Then there was a burst of light, a sudden gravitational force pulling and pushing, a yell somewhere, his hand tightening the grip on the console, a sudden fear, a cascade of sparks, a wind and a desperation so bright that Avocato was afraid everyone could see it.

And as fast as it all started, it was gone. The tension, the anticipation, the pressure, the magnitude, it all was gone.

They were drifting slowly through the cosmos, together, alone, alive.

“Engines are in critical condition. We are unable to move forward.” AVA said robotically above them. Then like an afterthought, very lightly added. “But at least we’re alive.”

They were alive. And away from danger.

Avocato moved away from the controls, letting the barrier drop, disintegrate into holographic pixels first and then into nothingness. His hands were shaking terribly, so much that even brushing his forehead was a task. His throat was a mess, tightened to the brim, barely letting any air pass through.

The whole bridge was dead quiet for a moment, a short, tensed moment where they all prepared themselves for the worst. But the worst didn’t come.

They were alone in this part of the universe.

“We did it?” Quinn hesitantly asked, trying to loosen the grip she had on her chair, but failing.

“We really survived?” Ash slowly whispered, holding tightly onto the wall.

AVA hummed above them.

“No sign of any enemy ship in this quadron.” A short buzz of calculations. “We’re safe for now.”

Another short spasm of time enveloped them, caressing the sweaty hairs and pecking wrinkled foreheads.

Then a long sigh left Quinn’s lips.

“I… I need a drink.”

“Count me in.” Ash added.

Quinn somehow got out of her seat, swaying as she did so while stealing a glance at the girl.

“Are you… even allowed to drink?”

“After a day like today? Definitely.”

“Fair enough.” Quinn nodded.

Both of them exited the bridge, glancing at the rest of the crew for a moment.

Avocato still needed a few minutes to defuse. Still needed a coherent thought to pop into his mind which would get rid of the dark clouds. It seemed like his mind couldn’t exactly calm down. He felt like they were still on the edge, almost tipping over.

There was a quiet whisper coming from the com.

“Dads, are you coming?” Little Cato asked.

Avocato shook his head, trying to clear it.

“Yeah, yeah, in a moment.”

A short break.

“Dad?” Their son hesitantly inquired.

Avocato glanced to his side at Gary who still clung to the controls, staring at the cosmos spreading behind the window.

A hum of machinery resonated in the space between them.

“Gary?” Avocato tried, whispering it first.

It did little to nothing. Cross that. It did nothing. Gary still stared with wide eyes at something that wasn’t there, with hands tightening the grip on the controls. He seemed frozen in time, drowning in below two hundred and seventy degrees temperature in the space-time continuum, not being conscious of anything that was happening around him.

“Gary?”

Still no response.

Avocato stood up, moved to Gary, dragging his feet beneath him and feeling his tail barely twitching in curiosity and fear of what was about to happen, and raised his hand to touch the man when –

The door swished open and Little Cato barged inside, looking around.

“Little Cato?” Avocato asked, glancing at his son.

The boy quickly moved closer, lifted his hand, but stopped midway, not even touching Gary, but furrowing his eyebrows. His ears flicked back and forth, with whiskers moving hesitantly as a pout appeared on the mouth, crossing it like a shooting star.

“Dad, can you like… go with the rest?”

“But I –“

“Please, I’ve… got it.”

Avocato wasn’t sure what was happening. He hadn’t been here, alive, long enough to know everything. He simply knew that something was off and he wasn’t sure what to do.

Even though he wanted to do something.

Yet Little Cato looked at him with pleading eyes, with resolve so strong that Avocato bent beneath it and nodded.

“Okay.”

And with that he left the bridge.

From the sounds he knew that most of the crew was in the main dining hall, moving around a bit, most likely drinking, while mostly remaining silent. There were a few shushed tries at conversations, but it seemed like no one really wanted to talk. They just needed to stop, get back onto the rails after such stressful day.

Even KVN was quiet, slowly pushing the cookies into his processor unit.

Avocato paced around the ship, trying to get the feeling back into his legs and hands, easing the stress that had taken control over his body.

He didn’t move far away from the bridge, but he didn’t eavesdrop either. He respected Little Cato’s and Gary’s privacy, so he just stayed nearby.

Mostly he was worried. He felt the sudden fear gripping his heart, squeezing it painfully and it had nothing to do with the close to death situation from a few minutes ago.

They were alive. Somehow they had escaped. A task which was getting more and more difficult with each passing day. But they had done it, they were alive for now. And this was important.

Avocato wasn’t sure what was happening in the closed room, but whatever it was he knew Little Cato got it. Avocato trusted him, he believed in him. And yet he was worried, terrified even.

So he walked around, with nothing better to do.

The door opened with a too loud swish several minutes later. Long minutes that seemed like eternities and lightyears, stretching into infinity.

Avocato snapped his head back, looking as Little Cato exited the bridge, massaging his tired eyes. In a few strides he was in front of his son, kneeling and putting both his hands on his shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

Little Cato looked perplexed at him, blinking a few times.

“Uh, sure, why wouldn’t I be?”

“The attack?”

“Oh, I’m yeah, I’m like… totally fine. A few bruises here and there, but nothing major.” Little Cato nodded, massaging his arm and looking at him.

Avocato sighed, feeling like at least half of the weight crumbled down from his shoulders, sputtering debris everywhere.

(He knew that Little Cato was amazing as a defense, operating the cannons, turrets and guns, but it was still one of the most open and unprotected position on the ship, one that could be easily blasted away.)

Avocato’s chest expanded as he took a sweet breath, letting his one hand move down, almost tracing the cold ground beneath them.

But there was still an incredible weight on his shoulders, dense, thick, invisible weight that pushed him down.

“And –“

“Gary is also okay. A little bit shaken, but okay.” Little Cato butted in, looking at him, only to glance at the ground.

Avocato opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it and shut one more time, only to nod in the end, feeling something inside of him coil and twist painfully.

(Whatever he had seen before definitely hadn’t looked okay. But if Little Cato was saying that it was okay now, he believed him. His son and Gary had a connection that ran deeper than it was visible. There was a thread somewhere inside only they could see, a language only they could understand.)

“Okay.” Avocato said, still resting his hand on Little Cato’s shoulder.

The Ventrexian looked at him.

“I’m going to grab something to eat and then I think I’m going to sleep.”

“Good, good.”

Little Cato moved and wrapped his hands quickly around Avocato’s chest, resting his head in the crook of his neck, exhaling quickly and tightening the grip.

Avocato hugged back, feeling all the pieces inside of him vibrating with fear evaporating somewhere, like a meteor disintegrating while moving through the atmosphere. It was a short moment, a heartbeat, a sudden stillness, an eternity squeezed into a second, a calmness, a familiarity, a comfort and a peace that they desperately needed.

“See you later?” Little Cato asked.

“Definitely.”

Little Cato smiled at him and then moved away, directing his sluggish steps toward the main dining room.

Avocato stayed in his spot, only moving up so he was standing instead of kneeling. His eyes jumped like electrons between orbitals, staring at the door to the bridge and the retreating form of his son.

Should he go inside or not?

“If you ask me I think dad could use a friend right now.” Little Cato said, looking at him above his shoulder.

Avocato looked at his son, opened his mouth, but then closed it and nodded. He only caught a glimpse of a smile as he turned to the door directing him to the bridge.

He raised his hand, moved knuckles closer to the door and then faltered.

Should he really do that? Maybe Little Cato was wrong, maybe Gary wanted peace, maybe Avocato shouldn’t step inside?

But then it seemed like Little Cato knew Gary more than anyone else did, so why should he be wrong?

So in the end Avocato simply said:

“Gary, I’m coming in.”

And he did just that.

The bridge was covered only in soft, sparse hues coming from the control panels and boards spreading at the very front and nearby the seats. Some lights were blinking, some were turned off and some were shining, but it seemed like the energy was toned down, conserved, giving only the minimum of power.

(Or maybe they were dimmed down on purpose?)

Avocato looked around the familiar room, quickly locating the lump sitting in the main chair.

Gary was curled in on himself with hands wrapped around his legs and head hidden in a small nest made between his arms. For a moment he seemed still, like a statue, a stone, frozen in a space void, but then his shoulders moved, dropped down an inch.

Avocato swallowed hard, feeling his heart breaking into a thousand pieces, and then stepped forward.

“Gary?”

Gary did twitch and it was the only thing which showed Avocato that he was listening and more important conscious of the things that were happening around him.

The vast universe spread in front of them, universe where the danger lurked, but thousand, if not more, light-years away. For now they were away, safe, alive. But for how long? When would be the next time their necks would be put under the guillotine of time? When would be the next time when the cold hands of Death would wrap her hands around their throats, quietly apologizing in their ears?

The future was an unknown, a terrifying unknown, a scary place to step into.

But for now they were alright. They were breathing, their hearts were beating and they could rest for a moment. A blissful moment. And this was what mattered.

Avocato clenched his fists, released the tension, tightened them one more time, braced himself and then stepped forward.

“Is everything alright?”

A dumb thing to ask about, but somehow this one question left Avocato’s lips.

For a moment Avocato expected Gary to not move, to not answer in any way. But then the head slowly moved in a shaking motion, scattering blond locks everywhere.

“Do you mind if I… sit with you?”

Another shake of the head.

They were at least getting somewhere.

Avocato slowly approached Gary and then flopped down on the armrest nearby the lump sitting on the seat. He put his hands on his lap, fiddling with them a little and glancing at Gary from time to time.

He wanted to do something, something to ease the tension, to brush away the fear that had taken hold of the heart, something to push away the bad thoughts that plagued the mind, something to help, something to just make it better.

(He didn’t have such strong feelings in a long time.)

Yet Avocato wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t know what kind of things were okay in such a situation. What would their relationship allow him to do?

(Avocato wished it was something more than a friendship, but he was happy with what he had. But there were these urges, these needs, these whispered pleads which filled his mind.)

But he was also a man of pure instinct. It didn’t mean he always acted on it. No, of course not. But he trusted it when it proposed ideas, possibilities, plans and methods. It was his savior in dire situations, his last chance to escape every danger.

His helper.

So he decided to trust it again.

Avocato slowly moved his hand, flew it across the atmosphere, feeling the gravitation of the ship taking its toll, and then landed it like a spacecraft on Gary’s palm which grasped tightly the jeans. His pads traced the skin, moving into the crook of the gripped fist.

For a moment, nothing happened.

And then Gary loosened the grip, letting Avocato’s hand to sneak closer and interlock their fingers, feeling them click like two gears, a perfect combination of imperfect lives.

It wasn’t much. Just a delicate movement, a sign of trust, of familiarity, of support, of too much and not enough, of stars and planets and comets and stories about space pirates spoken in hushed whispers surrounded by dimmed light. It was love – but in different forms, yet mixed together.

Gary squeezed Avocato’s fingers.

Avocato softly brushed his thumb on Gary’s skin.

They stayed like this for a long time, with the constellations and nebulas passing them by, with their breaths evening out, with their heartbeats slowing down, with everything sparkling to life and then dying.

But not here, not right now.

Gary moved and leaned on Avocato’s thigh, resting his head there.

“Thanks.” He mumbled, not letting go of his hand.

“No problem.”

So they stayed like this for a little bit more time.

***

Some people would call Avocato a bad person. Or well, a bad Ventrexian. He could understand them. He deserved the title. He had done bad, terrible things. Things that couldn’t and shouldn’t be forgiven.

He wasn’t fine with that, but he had learned to live with it. No matter how horrible it sounded.

(From time to time it made his skin crawl with fear so deep that he barely could move.)

But he loved helping others - others close to him.

He would do everything for Little Cato. He would steal thousands stars and pass through countless dimensions to keep his son safe.

And for a long period of time Little Cato had been the only one for whom Avocato had harbored strong feelings of wanting to help. But that had changed after boarding Galaxy One, after becoming a part of the team-squad or whatever Gary called it.

Avocato found himself wanting to help others. Wanting to do something to ease the pain and let them take a sweet breath, so much needed for their lungs.

(He had to admit it that the feeling was the strongest with Little Cato and Gary.)

He had thought before that it would make him weak - having such needs. That it would break all his walls and make him lose focus on what was important. But he had been wrong. It made him even stronger than before.

“Dad, dad, dad, can I have it?”

Avocato glanced down at Little Cato who excitedly showed him a box filled with screwdrivers, laser cutters and other mechanical stuff. He felt his eyebrows raising on the forehead.

“Don’t we already have like ten of these back at the ship?”

Because the engine room was filled to the brim with such gizmos, making it almost impossible to move without crashing into a box filled with gears here and a bag of screws there.

Little Cato rolled his eyes at him.

“Yeah, but we don’t have equipment to repair things from sector 67b! What if we accidentally crash our ship and we will have to change it and we won’t have needed supplies to repair the nearby ship and we will be stuck and –“

“Okay, okay, okay, I got it!” Avocato sighed and then patted his pockets, finding a few slips of money. “Go buy it.”

“Aw thanks dad, you’re the best.” Little Cato turned on his heel and glanced at the small robot trailing next to him and the green alien glued to it. “Come on Oppy Junior and Mooncake, let’s find what more we can buy.”

The robot yipped happily and drove after the Ventrexian to yet another stall, carrying Mooncake with it.

At this pace Avocato would be broke in several minutes.

He closed his eyes and relaxed the muscles, feeling a familiar presence getting near him.

(He would recognize this smell everywhere.)

“Ha, and you told me I was too soft on the kid when I bought him the hoverboard he wanted.”

“You just bought it, because you couldn’t stand his puppy eyes.” Avocato snapped back, not even prying open one eye.

“Don’t you mean kitty eyes?”

“Don’t test me.”

Gary chuckled and leaned on the same wall Avocato had been and still was supporting for the last few minutes, letting their shoulders lightly brush.

Aliens of different races passed in front of them, talking excitedly between each other with smiles gracing their faces. Kids ran around, following each other with mouths dirty from sweets and knees covered with dust. Some vendors shouted loudly to get the biggest crowd around their merchandise, letting the curious eyes wander around until they would lock onto shining and sparkling gizmos.

Festivals – a moment of joy, a time for relaxation, a sweet pause in working to enjoy themselves.

(When Little Cato and the rest of the younger part of the crew had found out that there had been a festival on a planet nearby they had begged them to stop there. And well Gary had been quick to yield, wanting to go too. Avocato had been second to lose, making Quinn and Nightfall being the last to fall.)

“Enjoying yourself?” Gary prompted, looking at him.

“It’s not the worst.” Avocato started, glancing around. “But I’ve seen better.”

There were definitely too many aliens around. Aliens who lurked and warily looked around, aliens who sneaked past the crowd in search of something, aliens who clearly tried to find specific things or beings.

It wasn’t safe out there for any of them. But for now they managed to somehow blend with the crowd of too cheerful kids and tired parents.

In a way, he and Gary were like that too. Two very exhausted dads taking care of their kids who ran around, getting their hands on sweets and games.

(Just a few minutes ago he had had to give Fox a spare change, so he could try to win some price in a shooting range.)

“It’s actually my first time in a place like this.” Gary said, correcting his position.

It wasn’t the most comfortable place to lean on, but it was far enough from curious eyes.

“Really?” Avocato asked, raising his eyebrow.

Gary nodded, glancing around too. It seemed that after saying it, he wasn’t in a mood to prolong the topic. Or that some memories surged forward, flew up like a rocket, trying to breach the atmosphere of a planet.

“Yeah.” He said in the end. “I suppose I never had anyone with whom I could go.”

Avocato knew there was more under that. That beneath it were layers of cosmic dust, molecules and compounds so complicated, that distinguishing specific atoms would be almost impossible. But for now he accepted it as a fact, not drilling it further, letting the time work its magic and appear back on the right time.

“I suppose I didn’t see that many either. Lord Commander wasn’t really up for organizing festivals on Terra Con Prime.”

“Uh yeah, can’t imagine him doing that.” Gary quickly said, looking skeptically at Avocato, but with a small smile on his lips.

Avocato grinned too, but the dark clouds gathered around his head.

Somehow Lord Commander was back, even stronger and more dangerous than before. But was he really the same person? Or was he simply just another puppet in the hands of Invictus? A doll made of bones and muscles, with limbs and mind tied with strings, easy to maneuver around and manipulate to the pleasing of the creator?

(Before all of that even Avocato could sometimes almost see the image of the old person Lord Commander had used to be, but that someone was gone now, erased from the history and existence.)

“He only organized parades to praise his own glory.”

“That sounds more like him.” Gary snapped his fingers, laughing under his nose, replacing the sudden darkness which tried to sneak into the warm eyes.

Avocato closed his eyes and sighed, feeling the smile forming on his own lips. He didn’t want for it to appear, but somehow he couldn’t stop it right now. Not when Gary was nearby and they finally had a free day to roam around and enjoy themselves.

“So, if you never have seen any festivals, then what are you doing here? You can go out there and explore.”

To be honest Avocato felt quite comfortable like that right now. Away from the prying eyes, but with a nice company. Calm. Comfortable. Safe. It seemed almost too nice to be true.

(And to be fair there were days when he felt like he was dreaming, like he was floating in a faraway land under the influence of a sweet sleepiness that took control of his whole mind.)

Gary glanced at him and shrugged.

“I don’t know. It sounded a little bit sad doing it without any company.”

“You could always go with one of the young ones.” Avocato proposed.

Gary waved his hand.

“Nah, they shouldn’t have to hang out with a grandpa like me.”

Avocato huffed. When Gary put his mind to something, there was no way of changing it. He literally would have to disobey the laws of the universe to change this man’s mind about something and he definitely didn’t have necessary equipment for it.

(Trying to do it was like trying to get out of the black hole, only with a stapler. Impossible.)

“If you’re a grandpa then what does it make me?”

“Super grandpa?”

Avocato snorted.

To be honest he wasn’t up for walking around. There were too many aliens checking every stall, too many unfamiliar faces that could hide secrets, too many hands that could sneak into their pockets, too many securely hidden weapons, ready to blast them off.

Avocato preferred to observe the crowd from far away, searching for any symptoms of people noticing who was here exactly. Here he could clearly watch people pass him by, see the guards patrolling, but not exactly yet alerted about anything.

He definitely preferred to play safe.

But he was weak when it came to Gary Goodspeed. The man probably didn’t know that, hell, he definitely didn’t know that a small question could turn into a thousand things Avocato would do to make him smile. It had been probably a simple thought Gary had wanted to get off his chest. No higher and hidden reasons.

Yet the second the words had left his mouth Avocato had known what he had wanted to do.

He brushed softly Gary’s arm with his own and then pointed with his head at the stalls.

“So are we gonna stand here for like an eternity or what?”

Gary stared at him for several seconds, before the concept of what Avocato had proposed finally got registered by his brain. And the reaction was immediate – a smile, giant, radiant, warm formed on his lips, stretching it to almost painful for Avocato levels. Then there was a squeal leaving these lips, a high-pitched sound that could shatter the drums in every ear, but somehow sounded like a beautiful music to Avocato. And then there were hands, clumsily gripping his elbow, shoulder, hand and tugging him in the direction of the music, colorful aliens and cheerful kids.

Avocato obediently followed, rolling his eyes at the childishness of the man, but deep inside being quite fond of it. There was something endearing in the eyes sparkling like supernovas, with the cheeks burning like stars and the smile spreading like universe.

(Plus it almost sounded like a date. It definitely wasn’t a date, but who could blame Avocato if he called it like that in his head? No one, because no one could hear it. So he definitely could do it. In his head. It wasn’t hurting anyone. Maybe only his poor heart when it was met with the reality.)

Gary dragged him from stall to stall, excitedly eyeing everything aliens here had to offer. It didn’t matter whether it was jewelry, books, gizmos, part of machines or food. It all was appealing to him. Maybe the food part the most. It seemed that after snapping the invisible thread that had kept Gary at bay his mouth wasn’t shutting, but was always open, talking, chattering, whispering about everything and nothing in the same time. He was a ball of constant, never-ending energy, vibrating, shivering with so much power that it felt too much for Avocato.

But it was worth it.

It was even more worth it when Avocato managed to win a giant mascot of a Pyrruvian Exalate – something that reminded Gary of an Earth dragonfly. Only those were like twenty times bigger and more deadly. It didn‘t matter to Gary as he hugged the mascot closer to his chest, with sparkling eyes and even bigger grin.

(And if Avocato had had to intimidate the vendor to get it, then what? They were wanted criminals, it had to have some perks, right?)

“Oh my gosh, Gary, how did you get it?” It was Ash, staring at the plushie in the man’s hands which were wrapped securely around it.

“Avocato won it for me!” Gary happily answered.

“Lucky!” Ash said, clasping her cheeks and looking mesmerized at the mascot.

Gary was proudly puffing out his chest.

Avocato only sighed at that, glancing at Quinn who fondly shook her head at the antics happening in front of her eyes.

“So you won it for Gary?” Little Cato asked, standing next to him and then glancing up for a second, only to focus in the end on Ash trying to pry away the plushie from Gary’s steel hold.

“Yep, fair and square.”

Little Cato glanced at him skeptically.

“Yeah, about that. I actually saw some alien furiously pointing at your poster while talking to the guards, so you know.” Little Cato shrugged at the end, smirking.

Avocato sighed.

When the guards came four minutes later, they were already above the planet’s atmosphere.

***

Mostly Avocato spent his time working. He didn’t have that much free time and even when he did, he tried to fill it to the brim with something useful. Repairs here, steering the ship there, cleaning weapons after a fight, preparing food for Little Cato at the end of the day. No matter what it was, Avocato was doing something.

(If he stopped doing them, his thoughts would catch up and he definitely didn’t need that. He had to be in constant move.)

Avocato hadn’t felt like he had needed to spend time with others before. Before Little Cato that was. And even after Little Cato had been born he never really had felt the need to have free time to spend it with someone other than his son.

With Little Cato it was different. He hadn’t had much time while working for Lord Commander, but whenever he had had some, he had spent it with Little Cato – repairing stuff, building machines, teaching him how to shoot and other useful tricks.

For the longest time Little Cato had been the only person Avocato really had wanted to spend time with.

And then had come Gary. And somehow the prospect of having free time to spend it with him wasn’t so terrifying anymore. On the contrary, he wanted to do that. It was a selfish thing – being able to spend as much time together as he could.

(Yet if he had to choose between Little Cato and Gary, he would always chose his son. But he knew Gary would do the same.)

Avocato always found excuses to hang out with the human. Whether it was playing cards, steering the ship, planning their future steps, eating supper, helping with cleaning the engine or other things. Most of the time Little Cato tagged along and Avocato had to admit he adored those times – when there were just the three of them and the wide universe. It was a time filled with jokes and laughter, possibilities of the future, stories from the past and so much more.

(One crooked but whole family.)

Those were the precious moments filled with no worries about the world, titans, Invictus, Lord Commander, death that was threating to take them away. It was just the three of them.

But sometimes Avocato wanted some alone time with Gary too. In a different way than he wanted some alone time with Little Cato.

Spending time with Gary left his heart in a haze, drunk on emotions so deep and bright that it made him exhausted. And yet, those were one of the most calming moments of his life. He felt utterly content while talking with Gary, laughing about stuff or being submerged into a conversation so dark that even shadows scattered away from them.

With Gary Avocato felt like he could open himself fully and the man wouldn’t judge him. And he was doing it, slowly, step after step. But to be fair he wasn’t sure whether he was doing it for himself or because it seemed like Gary was happier the more he knew about Avocato.

It felt like their bond was stronger the more they shared. And the needs became bigger and mightier.

“Oh my gosh, they are so disgusting!”

“They are just kissing each other.”

“Disgusting!”

Gary snorted and then threw popcorn at Little Cato who had done a tube from his hands and was shouting at the screen where a pair was kissing.

“It’s a romantic drama, what else did you expect?” Avocato asked, raising his eyebrow.

Little Cato huffed and slumped further down on the couch.

“I don’t know, but I expected something better than lame kissing scenes.”

“Come on, Spidercat, it’s a classic back on Earth.”

“Your classics sucks.” The small boy said, reached and then grabbed a handful of popcorn to put into his mouth.

“You will love them when you’ll be my age.”

“So when I’ll be a grandpa?”

“You little –“

Gary grabbed Little Cato, heavily ruffling his blue fur at the top of the head while grumbling under his nose.

Little Cato started laughing loudly, moving his hands up and trying to swat the attacking ones away, but failing miserably due to the tremors which ran through his chest.

The hands that rested on the head, moved to the armpits and stomach, tickling every space possible and making Little Cato almost shout in short spasm of laughter. His eyes were closed tight shut. His small body wiggled left and right, trying to get away from the attacking palms, but being quite unable to.

“Stop, stop I yield, I yield!”

Gary’s attack stopped, halted in a moment and then he moved away.

“I hope that taught you something.”

Little Cato was already opening his mouth to disagree with that statement, but Gary simply lifted his hands and it shut the small boy up for good.

Or at least for another few minutes.

Avocato wasn’t really the biggest fan of romantic dramas either. Or romantic comedies. Or romantic thrillers. Or romantic anything.

Mostly because whenever he watched one, it gave him ideas, possibilities that couldn’t be fulfilled, soft moments that he wished he had and could live through. It made him miss all those simple things he yearned and wanted and hoped could happen – but knew they never would.

(How Gary didn’t catch him glancing almost every minute at him was a mystery.)

Gary seemed enamored by the movie, so Avocato said nothing and simply watched it.

After some time Avocato sensed a stable weight being put on his shoulder and glanced down to see his son lulled to sleep.

Little Cato had his mouth open a little, with a bit of drool rolling down his cheek. His chest was moving steadily, raising up and falling down – oh, so precious movements – with one ear flicking from time to time.

Avocato smiled fondly and leaned to brush the saliva away, scratching the cheek in the process.

“Did he doze off?” Gary whispered to him, moving to grab a remote control and stop the movie.

“Yeah, he did.” Avocato nodded.

“Ah, the movie had to really bore him then.”

And yet he stayed.

Avocato moved his palm through the tuff of hair at the top and when his son didn’t wake up, he moved to gently scoop him up, letting the legs hang limply in the air.

Little Cato did little to no movement, letting his head loll to the side and rest on Avocato’s shoulder.

“I’m going to take him to his room.”

“Okie dokie.” Gary said, twirling the remote control in his hand. “Are you planning on… coming back?”

Avocato’s heart skipped a beat as he stared at Gary’s pleading eyes.

In the darkness of the main room they looked like two moons, reflecting the light of the nearest star. There were swirls, galaxies of emotions moving through them and Avocato wasn’t sure he could name all of the feelings. He had a vague sensation of knowing some of them, but it could be wishful thinking.

So in the end he opted for a selfish answer.

“Yeah, I’ll be back baby.”

Gary nodded at that, smiling to him like the sun.

Avocato carried Little Cato back to his room, laid him down on the bed and then covered thickly with a quilt. He patted the head and kissed the nose, whispering a sweet good night into the ear.

Little Cato snuggled further into his bed, throwing the quilt almost over his head, making Avocato smile under his nose.

(He would blame Gary for that later on, but he also moved to Fox, laying below Little Cato, and brushed his forehead softly, wishing a good night sleep too.)

His steps back echoed loudly in the silent ship drifting through the space. One, two three, four and so on and so more. The sounds and vibrations were accompanied by his heavily drumming heart. It was an otherworldly cacophony inside his veins, inside his body. It was a weird feeling. They had spent time together a lot of times, losing sleep while playing games, steering ship, repairing stuff or simply while talking or sometimes not even doing that.

But now, weirdly, he couldn’t calm down. It seemed that there was a fire beneath the fur, a sudden tornado and storm, rattling his nerves, making him twitch with anticipation.

(Anticipation for what? He wasn’t sure. It wasn’t for anything specific, it was just there, moving through his veins like black matter.)

Gary sat in the same position Avocato had left him, looking through the tablet which was laying on his lap.

“Oh, you’re already back.” Gary said, glancing up at him as Avocato flopped down.

“Should I have taken longer?” Avocato asked, raising his eyebrow.

“No, no, no of course not. Pfff what are you even thinking?” Gary quickly clarified, not clarifying anything at all. But that was a part of him.

(A part Avocato clearly adored.)

Gary grabbed the remote, almost dropping it in the process, and then moved it closer to his chest.

“Should I?”

“Go on. It’s a stupid movie, but I’m kinda curious how it’ll end.”

Gary nodded, beaming to him and clicking a button.

It was kinda true. But to be fair Avocato wasn’t sure whether he wanted to see the end because of the plot or because of Gary. Maybe he wanted to see the end to be able to sneak a peek of how Gary would behave while seeing it.

Even though he had said he had already seen it at least seven times.

Observing Gary while he watched a movie was always an intriguing experience. One Avocato clearly loved. He adored looking at the small changes on the face, sudden gasps, bewildered whispers, mouth spread in a wide grin after a joke or eyes filled with tears during a heartbreaking moment. It was a never-ending compilations of movements and emotions, cinematic show filled with vivid animations.

Avocato observed, cataloguing every emotion passing through the façade, wondering for how much longer he would be able to look at them like that, freely, alive.

Then there was a change, a sudden sparkle of life, a supernova coming, spreading the heat, a small open movement of the mouth, wide eyes, sparkling and needing, gravitated or pulled towards the screen. There was curiosity, clear, astonishing, childish even, bright, so radiant curiosity that it almost hurt to look at.

Avocato glanced at the screen to check what got Gary so interested.

Oh, the pair was dancing, looking at each other with adoration. The music swam slowly around their bodies, hugging them delicately and whispering into the ears, making them smile.

It looked awfully cheesy. But well cheesy was what Gary adored.

Avocato glanced at the pair, moving their hips gently, looking like the whole world didn’t matter, and he felt this sudden need. This sudden urge and longing, yearning so deep and heavy that it almost crushed his lungs. The echo of a heartbeat moved through his chest as a sudden stutter appeared in his brain.

Avocato stood up and reached his hand toward Gary.

“What… are you doing, my dear friend?”

He felt the heat rise to his cheeks, but he pushed all thoughts aside and simply answered:

“Are you going to let my hand hang in the air till the song ends?”

Gary opened his mouth, glanced at the screen, back at Avocato, one more time at the screen and then it seemed that what Avocato had been implying finally was interpreted by his brain.

He grabbed Avocato’s hand and let the Ventrexian haul him up.

They almost bumped into each other, due to the stress running through his limbs, but somehow he managed not to rip Gary’s hand off. Then for a moment they stood in front of each other, staring and not really being sure what to do.

Avocato hadn’t planned so far.

He just had wanted that, so he had done the first thing that had popped into his mind.

But at this point the song would be over soon, so they had to act.

Avocato quickly checked the position the people on the screen were in and tried to imitate it in the real life. He rested his one hand on Gary’s hip, holding the other at their shoulders’ level.

Gary quickly caught on, moving his prosthetic to rest it on Avocato’s shoulder, letting the coldness seep in through the material of his shirt.

Another short glance to check what other things they were doing. Swaying their hips while making small steps. This was easy. He could do that.

They tried recreating what the people on the screen were doing, moving, stepping around while stealing glance after glance at them. And it was of course a recipe for disaster. Gary managed to stomp on his foot twice and Avocato almost made them stumble into a table, but in the end managed to save the day by only hitting his knee on it not so softly.

Gary laughed at that.

“We’re pretty bad at it.”

“Yeah, quite terrible even.”

Avocato glanced at the screen and then huffed.

“You know what, let’s just ignore what they are doing.”

“Right after you, big cat.”

With that in mind the whole process was definitely easier. From time to time Avocato had to glance down to check whether he would step on Gary’s foot or not, but other than that it was okay.

It felt actually really nice. Being able to dance slowly through the main room, moving and swaying their bodies to the delicate beat which thrummed in the air around them. Being able to feel the presence and the warmness seeping into his body. Being able to sense the heat of a burning star in his hands. Being able to admire the sight of the galaxies swirling in these eyes. Being able to enjoy the gravitation pulling him in.

It was a moment filled with warmness and peace. A serenity that moved through the atmosphere, precipitating in form of sweet happiness on their eyelashes.

Gary looked up at him, smiling softly.

And too soon the song ended and they were left standing in the middle of the main room, looking at each other.

They stood there for an eternity and for a second more, until Gary opened his mouth:

“Would it be incredibly stupid of me to rewind the movie so we could do it one more time?”

Maybe for some people it would be stupid. Maybe they would argue that the magic of the moment would be long gone, that it would flee away, sailing away on the imaginary ship to the other worlds.

But Avocato didn’t want the moment to end. His heart beat so loud, so hazy, so strongly in his chest that he couldn’t, didn’t want to let it go yet.

“No, it would be just the right amount of stupid.” His mouth managed to say.

Gary grinned and with one hand blindly searched for the remote control. In the end he managed to go back in the movie to the beginning of the dance.

So they repeated it.

They swayed and danced and floated and it all was too beautiful to be really true. But it was. Avocato could feel his every nerve touching Gary’s body, he could sense every smell that was getting into his nose, he could see the blond curls standing in weird directions on top of Gary’s head.

It was too much and not enough, both in the same time.

Near the end, Gary delicately rested his head on Avocato’s chest.

He said nothing about it, only let their bodies sway together more.

In the end, they replayed the song three more times.

***

Avocato thought of himself as a man of logic. Every movement was pre-calculated inside his head. Every possibility thought through at least two times. Every situation laid out in his mind as a plan. He clearly thought then did things later.

Other way he wouldn’t be able to live for so long.

But there were and had been a few exceptions. With Little Cato he was never sure how he would act. There had been several times when he had burst into a shouting match with his son due to the sudden fear ripping his chest apart, especially back when he had still worked for Lord Commander. However there had been other times when he had been doing things without thinking, like hugging and kissing the top of the head and staying beside the bed till the late hours just to admire the soft rises and falls of the chest.

Little Cato made him act irrational. So did Gary. But due to totally different reasons.

Gary made him do things without consulting them with his head. His heart simply would take the lead, marching forward on its mission. He would say and do things which were normally unnatural to him. He didn’t regret them, but it would be nice to have some kind of warning before he felt that his heart and mind could combust due to a close proximity or something similar.

It was an amazing, soaring sensation and yet similar to falling down into the epicenter of a black hole.

“Oh my gosh, what do we do, what do we do?”

“Calm down, Gary.”

“I’m calm!”

He definitely didn’t look calm and Avocato wasn’t planning on trusting him anytime soon.

Gary paced around the small room, grabbing his hair and almost pulling them out, with the heavy droplets of sweat rolling down his face. His cheeks were flushed with stress and the overwhelming nervousness.

Avocato would laugh, if it didn’t make Gary so furious. And he knew it did, because he had tried before.

“Yeah, if pacing around you call being calm, then yeah, suit yourself.” He said, shrugging.

Gary opened his mouth, closed it, opened and then furrowed his eyebrows.

“Okay, maybe, just maybe, I’m not ca–“

“You definitely can be a little bit quieter.” Little Cato whined, glancing at them from behind the cloth that had been put on his eyes.

It was like a switch being flipped. Gary immediately jumped to the bed, kneeled down and brushed his hand across the blue patch of fur on the top, now glued to the ears and forehead.

“Sorry, Spidercat, my fault. How are you hanging little buddy?”

The small Ventrexian moaned as he turned on the bed, looking at the human with red eyes and runny nose which he brushed with the end of the quilt after he had sneezed.

Avocato quickly moved to grab a tissue which he then moved towards their son’s nose.

Little Cato took the offered gift and blew his nose loudly.

Gary smiled at that, scratching the boy behind the ear.

“I’ve been better.” Little Cato finally said, making a ball from the tissue and throwing it in the direction of the trash bin, but failing quite a bit.

(Avocato can pick it up later.)

“Can I get you anything? Water? Blanket? Ice cream?”

“We have ice creams on the ship?”

“Not really, but I’m sure I can think of something.” Gary admitted.

Little Cato laughed, but it made his entire body shudder terribly with the coughs rattling the bones and chest, making the poor boy sit up to fill his lungs with sweet, delicious air.

Gary frantically moved his hands around, in the end resting them on the kid’s back and massaging it slowly to help with the shudders running through the body.

“Thanks, dad.” Little Cat wheezed at the end, flopping back down on the bed. “I think I have everything.”

“But if you need more you can always tell me.”

“I know.”

“Just a word. Nothing more. And I’ll get it.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So don’t strain yourself and just rest and let me take care of anything you may–“

“Dad, I’m really okay.” Little Cato whined, rolling a little on the bed, so he could face Gary who was kneeling in front of the bed. “Don‘t worry.”

“I can’t help, but worry!” He yelped.

Avocato smiled and put his hand on Gary’s shoulder.

“Gary, it’s okay. It is just a common Ventrexian cold. Little Cato will be fine in no time.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, dad.”

Avocato could see that Gary wanted to fight him on that, but zipped his lips and patted their son’s cheek softly. He smiled tiredly under his nose, grabbed the bucket filled with, well, with vomit and took the cloth that had been resting on Little Cato’s eyes.

“I’m going to wash it and bring you a new one.”

“Thanks.” Little Cato tiredly mumbled.

Avocato exited his room, sighing softly in the corridor, inhaling the empty of any smell air around him. It was a little bit stuffy in the room, with the terrible smells and scents mixing together. He definitely didn’t mind that, but now that he was outside he really noticed how foul odor was actually floating in his room.

As promised he went to the bathroom, washed the bucket, soaked the cloth in the cold water and then walked back.

The lights in his room were as dimmed as he had left them, but he could see the lump kneeling in front of the bed, caressing softly the cheek.

Little Cato was breathing, kinda heavily, but steadily and calmly. It seemed like during those short few minutes he had been taken away from the world of awake and into the sweet dream-filled land.

It was good, sleep was the perfect remedy for someone who was sick.

Avocato put the bucket down nearby the bed, delicately as not to wake up their son and then moved to place the cloth on Little Cato’s eyes and forehead.

The boy moved a little, but other than murmuring a few words under his breath he didn’t do much.

Gary was kneeling in front of the bed, resting his head in the small basket made of his arms. It was tilted a little bit, so he could observe the hesitant, but steady rises and falls of the boy’s chest.

Avocato glanced down.

“Are you planning on staying here for the whole night?” He asked.

“I was.” Gary answered, voice muffled by the material of his shirt. “But if you’re kicking me out I can totally –“

“No, no, no, I’m not kicking you out.” Avocato quickly clarified, gathering the last remaining tissues from the floor and throwing them into the trash bin. “I just thought you would feel more comfortable on the bed?”

“But Little Cato is on the bed.”

“He is.”

“And you were planning to sleep next to him.”

“That is correct.”

“On the same bed.”

“I’m inviting you for a sleepover and you’re refusing? Are you the real Gary?”

Gary quickly moved away from the bed, waving his hands in front of him.

“No, no, no, I’m definitely not saying ‘no’. It’s totally a ‘yes’. Yeah, like super cool and all that.” He whisper shouted. “It’s just –“

Avocato leaned and grabbed Little Cato’s blouse that had welcomed the ground after he had started feeling too hot.

“Just?”

“Isn’t this bed a little bit too small for three people?”

Avocato glanced at the bed. It wasn’t the biggest one, it definitely could fit two people more or less comfortably. Three could be troublesome, but then Little Cato wasn’t that big and Gary was incredibly flexible.

Or maybe that wasn’t that. Maybe Gary was simply searching for excuses. Reasons that could be used to escape the situation. Tiny mistakes and errors that he could exploit. That could be it.

(Avocato hated how that thought made his heart drop. How it made his breath still and crash down.)

“Gary…” He started, trying to find something to hold onto and failing. “If you don’t want to stay–“

“No, I want to stay.” Gary quickly said, raising up to his feet and almost falling down when his legs got mingled beneath him.

“Then stay.”

“But are you like super okay with that? Because if not I can totally sleep on the ground or you know, grab a blanket, make a fort, lit some scented candles –“

Okay, what the heck was he babbling about? It seemed like the words simply poured from his mouth, mixing, forming something new, something intangible.

But Avocato had to put a stop to it. Somehow.

“Gary, if I wasn’t okay with this, I wouldn’t ask, okay?” He said, pushing words aside to add his own, a little bit tired, voice.

Apparently he had had to say something good, because it immediately shut Gary up. And that was an incredible feat.

Avocato wasn’t sure what Gary saw in him, but it had to be something, because he quickly looked away and mumbled a simple:

“Okay.”

Avocato nodded and then glanced at the bed where Little Cato was sleeping, letting out a few pained snores from time to time. His fur was glued to the skin beneath and it seemed tangled at some parts, forming swirls of galaxies. There was a hue to his cheeks, too deep to be called healthy, which moved as a groan left the chapped lips.

“You want a spot near the wall or near the edge?” Avocato asked, like it was the most normal question that could be asked.

“Near the wall, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure, okay.”

Avocato tried to sound confident. But to be honest he was a mess inside. The cables were sparkling and crackling inside his veins. His brain was a mushy mixture, a reaction filled with the steam and heat and vapor so dense that he couldn’t exactly see the reasons and consequences of his actions.

At first he had proposed the idea because he had known that no matter what Gary would insist on staying by Little Cato’s side and he hadn’t wanted his best-friend to lay on the ground. But only now, the after-effects were reaching his brain and heart.

Had he seriously asked Gary to sleep with him? In the same bed!? What was wrong with him? His poor heart couldn’t take it. It didn’t have any additional armor around to protect itself from the harm and cardiac arrest.

But he couldn’t back down.

(Not that he really wanted to. Or wanted Gary to sleep on the ground.)

So bracing himself, Avocato simply said.

“Get yourself comfortable, I’ll get us some blankets.”

And with that he went out to go to the storage room. He didn’t even look back, just darted through the door, letting it close behind him.

The cold air around the ship once again calmed his racing heart and buzzing cheeks.

Nevertheless he didn’t want to be out for too long, in fear that something could happen to his son. He trusted Gary, of course, but he wanted to be near when Little Cato needed him. So the trip to the storage room and back took only around five minutes, maybe even less.

He stepped into his room and immediately glanced at his son.

Gary actually had climbed onto the bed and had pushed himself between the wall and Little Cato, who had moved to the biggest source of heat currently occupying the space. He was staring lovingly at the small boy, petting the cheeks with the back of his hand.

Avocato exhaled slowly and then moved closer to the bed.

“Here, for you.” He said and then passed one scratchy blanket.

Gary raised his head at him and leaned forward to take the gift.

“Thanks.”

Avocato nodded.

He didn’t really need to change his clothes as he was already wearing casual ones. Plus they were dirty with Little Cato’s sweat, snot and, well, other substances – gladly, not so smelly. It would be counterproductive to change clothes, when the state of them would be soon the same.

So that left only laying down.

The hardest part.

But he could do it.

Avocato slowly sat down on the slice of bed that was secured for him, nearby the edge, straightened the blanket, then laid down and at the end threw the material across his body.

Like a robot.

Okay, okay, he got it. He was just laying with the person he really, really liked in the same bed, with their son between them. There was nothing weird about it, totally not. It was normal. Maybe not fully, but still kinda normal in Gary’s world.

Avocato could live through it. He had lived through worse things under Lord Commander’s rule. He could do it.

He turned on the bed, so he was facing Little Cato and Gary.

Little Cato was currently turned towards Gary, curling under the quilt and shivering like a leaf on the wind.

Gary was patting their son’s cheek softly, but when Avocato moved, he raised his head up a bit, so he was able to look at him.

Avocato felt like his breath was punched out of his chest.

“So… we probably should try to fall asleep.” Gary murmured, barely raising his voice to be audible.

“That would be the best choice here.” Avocato nodded.

“Great! Let’s just do that. Together. But separately. Sleep.” Gary continued, nodding alongside. “Perfect. Sleeping right now. Going to do that.”

Avocato huffed at that, but he did close his eyes, hoping for the sleep to take his hand and guide him away.

He was incredibly tired. Today had drafted the energy from his body, leaving only a few drops at the bottom. A barely visible spectrum of strength inside his mind. He felt empty, like a shell, a conjuration of something that should resemble a body.

(Little Cato being sick did worry him. He knew it wasn’t a terrible illness, quite common one, but still he couldn’t help but worry.)

He tried to fall asleep, as he was incredibly, astonishingly tired. But no matter how hard he tried, how much he calmed his breath and emptied his mind, he couldn’t do it.

Seconds moved, minutes ticked, forming an hour in the end. Still with no sleep.

It seemed like one of those nights.

Avocato laid some more on the bed, listening to the uneven breaths of Little Cato, the small coughs and sniffs escaping his mouth and nose, the rustles of the blanket or quilt whenever someone changed position and the delicate murmurs of the machinery around them.

Until he turned on the bed and opened his eyes.

Little Cato had turned so he was facing Avocato now, still curled into a ball.

Gary was laying with his head resting on one hand. The second one was settled on Little Cato’s arm.

It all seemed so peaceful, like there were no worries in the world. Like there were only them, drifting through the cosmos, dancing across the string of the universe, playing cards with the fate and winning, in the end pulling the coins towards themselves.

(But for how long could they keep winning? They were running out of luck, precious luck that gave them life. Avocato knew that sooner or later it all would end. He knew that at some point he would lose this small slice of time filled with serenity, calmness and pure happiness. He knew that it all was a matter of time, but he hoped that he could hold onto it for just a little bit longer.)

Avocato corrected his position, resting his head on his arm, mimicking Gary’s position a bit.

And then Gary opened his eyes.

“Can’t sleep?” He asked, whispering the words.

Avocato shrugged, feeling his heart suddenly hammering inside his chest.

“Something like that.” He murmured.

“Me neither.”

“Clearly.”

Gary frowned at that a little, but the look quickly smoothened, probably due to the exhaustion dancing and skidding in his eyes.

A funny thing, both of them were incredibly drained, but couldn’t fall asleep.

Avocato did feel bad about snapping like that, but before he could focus his mind on opening his mouth to say something, apologize, the human beat him to it.

“His fever stabilized.” Gary whispered, moving his hand across the forehead of their son.

“That is a good thing.” Avocato mumbled, copying Gary and resting his paw on the forehead.

The skin was quite hot, but still less so than two hours ago. The medicine had to be working.

“Yeah.” Gary grabbed the quilt and moved it to cover Little Cato’s trembling shoulders. “I hope he will feel better in the morning.”

“It’s not his first Kylmäkissa flu. Definitely also not the last.”

It was in the end a quite common illness among Ventrexians and Tryvuulians – so Fox had to stay away from Little Cato for the time being.

“Still…” Gary started, then moved his head, laying it flatter on his hand and resting the other one on their son’s arm once again. “It has to suck.”

“It does.” Avocato admitted. “I’m sure you humans also have colds. Or something similar.”

Gary hummed, nibbling on his bottom lip while closing the eyes for a moment.

“Yeah, we do. And it’s always a pain in the ass.” Gary sighed. “But it’s the first time I’m taking care of someone sick.”

The concept was a tad weird at the beginning, but the longer Avocato really thought about it, the more he could actually understand it.

“I never tended to anyone before Little Cato either.” Avocato said, blinking a few times when a wave of tiredness hit his eyelids. “I didn’t have a real family before him to be honest.”

Gary tilted his head a bit, looking at him.

“Really?”

He nodded.

It was weird, opening up to someone. He rarely did it. Or like he couldn’t remember the last time he had done that. He knew he had done that at some point of his life – probably while being drunk – but now every memory about such occurrence was fogged in his head.

“Yeah, I had to learn everything from the beginning. How to change diapers, how to hold him, how to put him to sleep, how to make him stop crying and also how to take care of him when he was sick.” Avocato moved his hand and slowly caressed Little Cato’s cheek, finding pleasure in the small movement of whiskers answering the touch. “Just like right now.”

Little Cato let out a soft sight and then moved further under the quilt, almost covering his face and making Avocato smile softly.

“It always has been just the two of us against the world.”

Little Cato had been the center of Avocato’s life the moment he had laid his eyes on the small baby. His very own Galactic Center. Everything he had done in his life had been for him. He had been the reason he had woken up in the morning and had gone to sleep at night.

But that had been before all of this had happened. Before his mind had expanded like a universe. Before his heart had been shattered into a million pieces and had been glued back together.

Now he had more people he cared about, who rotated on the orbits nearby the center.

(He also had Gary now, a burning star that sizzled and sparkled, warming his face and chest with one radiating smile. Smile that could tear him apart and build anew.)

Avocato glanced up, catching Gary’s gaze for a moment, before the man directed it elsewhere.

There was a hidden, saddened undertone to his eyes. A darkness that swallowed the light which tried to escape it. A vantablack covered the irises, not allowing anything to pass through.

There was a small crease on the forehead, a twitch of the mouth, sudden movement of the nose similar to a sniffle as Gary bit the bottom lip.

“That sounds nice.” He admitted in the end.

“That is nice.” Avocato agreed.

Gary curled in on himself, staring at the back of Little Cato’s head and the ears perking up to find the source of every noise on the ship.

Avocato moved his one hand, straightening it above his head first and then slowly sneaking it towards Gary’s one. The material whispered beneath his palm, creasing and wrinkling with its every movement.

There were a thousand things he wanted to say to Gary. A million things he wanted to ask about. A milliard things he wanted to do.

The feelings he had harbored had found a comfortable and cozy home inside his chest. Something that had been unbearable some time ago now was a never–ending companion on his space journey. Reassuring even.

Avocato slowly brushed his hand against Gary’s palm.

“But I think that the three of us against the world sounds even better.”

Gary snapped his head up, staring at him like Avocato hung every star on the sky just for him.

(And if he could, he totally would do that.)

There was another string of silence, a sudden heartbeat that leaped in his chest, a compassionate exhale.

Then Gary interlocked their small fingers together and let their hands rest on the pillow above Little Cato’s head.

“The three of us against the world? I like that. I would like that. It sounds absolutely fricking amazing.”

Avocato ginned tiredly under his nose.

They didn’t talk after that. Gradually both of them let their eyes slip shut, allowing the exhaustion of today to slowly lull them to sleep and take care of their minds.

Their hands stayed connected on the pillow.

Until around three am, when Gary woke up Avocato with a simple, hoarse word.

“Bucket.”

Avocato wasn’t sure what it meant after being suddenly ripped away from the dreamland. He simply added the imaginary meaning to the real one, in one swift movement reached for the said bucket and pulled it up to the bed, pushing it towards Little Cato.

Who shot up and then leaned above the quickly placed bucket, emptying the barely eaten content of his stomach into it.

Gary slowly massaged their son’s back.

Avocato kept the bucket in place, not allowing it to slip through Little Cato’s trembling palms.

When the heavy shudders stopped, the small Ventrexian lifted his hand and brushed his mouth with the back of it.

“Absolutely disgusting.” He mumbled.

“You still look better than me while being hungover.” Gary said.

Little Cato hoarsely laughed.

And maybe it had been the three of them for a very long time.

***

The terrible thing about the stability was the fact that it could disappear in a spare second, not even leaving any trace after itself.

Avocato had been a lonely man. He had preferred the solitude of being alone, than being surrounded by people, aliens, different races and other humanoid or not things. He had preferred the empty nights, than the ones replete with bodies pressed together. He had liked the calm mornings filled with warm drinks, accompanied by nothingness – more than someone taking the empty spaces.

Like with all things in his life, Little Cato had changed that.

He was his son, his friend, his precious boy. It had been the two of them during breakfasts, during days, during dinners and during night-times. For some time Avocato had felt that it had been enough for him to be happy.

And he was still happy. Gosh, how delighted and ecstatic he was to be able to still be with his son.

Their family of two wasn’t missing anything. And yet Avocato felt like he wanted to add another member to it

Avocato wanted Gary to be here through good and bad, through the storm and calm sea, through Little Cato starting a rebellious stage of teenage years and through him turning into an adult.

Avocato wanted him by his side till the end of the world.

No matter when it would happen.

But in the end he was a coward. Somewhere deep inside he hoped he had more time, he had more days, more weeks, more months to tidy up the mess in his head, to find the courage to let the words out. He had lived in a comfortable life between worlds, not exactly moving in one or other direction. He had been afraid that if he had moved forward, he would break something fragile that had grown between them and he couldn’t imagine himself ever stepping back. So he had stayed where he had been, gripping tightly to the in-between which had harbored his heart.

He had thought he could live there for long enough time to be able to show without words what he was feeling.

Only he hadn’t noticed the crack on the hourglass, making the sand slip away way quicker than intended. And before he could even say a short word, the container was almost empty, letting the last few particles slowly drip down.

“You are not going!”

“Little Cato listen–“

“No, I won’t listen! You are not going there! This is like super obvious trap! They are going to kill you!”

“Well if I don’t go, they will kill all of us and I don’t want that to happen! I have to save you all and Mooncake!”

“Gary, calm down.” Quinn quietly said, putting her hand on Gary’s shoulder.

It seemed like he wanted to say something more, but shut his mouth and looked down at the ground.

There was silence between all of them. Heavy silence that precipitated in the form of invisible dust on their shoulders and weighed them down. Hollow silence that crushed the lungs. Cold silence that gripped the throats and squeezed, preventing from taking a breath.

How it all had gone so wrong so quickly?

“I’m sure there is a way out of this.” Fox hesitantly said, fiddling with his fingers and looking at everyone.

“Both our engines are dead. The turrets are out of ammo. The energy is at seven percent and the oxygen filters are disrupted.” There was a clear hesitation, before AVA continued. “I don’t think… we can escape this one.”

Everyone knew their luck had to run out at some point. They couldn’t escape forever. But somehow, deep inside, each and every one had hoped that they could pull it off one last time, that they could still outrun the chasing hands.

That didn’t happen.

They stood nearby the edge, feeling the heels of their shoes slipping down into the abyss that just waited to consume them all.

The silence spread further around like a disease, burning the skin and taking away breaths. It cradled them in its arms, caressing the hairs and petting the cheeks, keeping safe and yet as prisoners, locking them away.

Avocato tightened his fists, feeling his heart falling apart.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not like this. Never like this.

“There is only one way out of it.” Gary continued, but quieter, looking at everyone. “I’m going there. Alone. And you keep your butts here. Safe. On the ship.”

“And what? Are we supposed to watch you die too? Bring popcorn? Take bets which limb will be ripped off first?”

Gary flinched, biting hard the inside of his cheek.

“Little Cato, stop.” Nightfall whispered, raising her eyes at him. “We know your point of view.”

“My point of view? Are you all seriously siding with Gary right now?”

“No, we’re not.” Quinn bit back, gripping her own shoulders in a cold embrace. “But shouting doesn’t help anyone.”

It was true.

Everyone was agitated, angry, tired and above all scared.

Little Cato shut his mouth and glared at the woman, tightening the fists hanging near his sides.

They had been at this since the battle – which had lasted several hours – had ended. The lost battle. The devastating battle. The fight during which with every passing moment their hopes had been crushed, destroyed and disintegrated.

Invictus and Lord Commander had caught up with them. They had taken Mooncake. And now they were surrounded by the enemy with their own dying ship being their tomb. There was no running away, there were no escape routes that could save them all.

Lord Commander and Invictus had given them two options – either they all were going to die or Gary could give himself up and the rest of the crew would be spared.

Both options sounded terrible. Horrifying.

It had been easy to guess which way Gary had picked, not even paying any mind to the other option. It had been almost natural for them to disagree with it. And the fight and war had been storming around since then.

Nightfall sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. There were dark shadows, spirals of dust, around her eyes.

“It’s getting us nowhere. Not even one of us is thinking straight.”

It wasn’t really late, but at this point they were up for more than thirty six hours and neither of them could think clearly.

“So what do you propose?” Ash quietly asked, brushing her now dirty fringe away, letting her trembling fingers rest on the forehead.

“Sleep first and then let’s all of us think it through tomorrow. We have till midnight to decide. So let’s meet again in eight hours.”

Avocato nodded at Nightfall, showing that he agreed with her plan.

“Sounds reasonable enough.” Quinn added.

“Same here.” Ash said, dropping her hand

“I’m okay with it.” Fox mumbled.

“I also think this is a good idea.” Hue robotically said.

Nightfall turned to Little Cato who still angrily looked at the ground.

“Little Cato?”

The Ventrexian tightened his fists, letting the hair on his back stand up for a moment, bristling them, before finally letting go of the stress.

“Fine.” He snarled.

The woman turned her head to Gary who still didn’t speak. Similar to his son he was staring at the ground with lips pinched in a thigh line. But there was something in his eyes, some hidden depth, galaxies swirling, turning and circling, an ocean moving with a storm, sputtering white foam everywhere.

“Gary?” Nightfall started. “Do you agree with the plan?”

Gary didn’t answer.

Everyone turned their eyes to him.

“Gary?” Nightfall furrowed her eyebrows.

A beat of silence echoed, shimmered and sizzled in the charged atmosphere around them, making the hairs on the arms stand up, taking breaths away and gripping the throats in a delicate, yet firm grip. A touch that was there, threating, but not doing anything just yet.

“Okay.” Gary said and then stepped back.

Everyone exhaled, dropping their shoulders.

“So we’re set.” Nightfall straightened her back. “I advise you all to get some sleep. We’ll deal with it all later on.”

And that was the cue. Everyone slowly shuffled away from the destroyed main room, dragging their feet on the dusty ground, covered by the faint, barely shining lights above their heads. They held tightly onto consciousness for just a few more minutes, before their heads would land on the pillows, allowing their red eyes to rest for several restless hours.

Avocato hugged Little Cato, kissed his matted hair at the top and sent him to his bed.

The small boy obediently stepped into his room, letting the door close after him while glancing back at Avocato.

That went better than expected to be honest.

He wondered for how long it would stay that way.

Avocato was exhausted. He felt it in every atom and particle of his body, a heavy weight that pushed him down, more and more, making it harder to put one foot in front of the other. The tiredness clung to his bones, wrapped his muscles and seized him up, dragging towards the bottom of the black hole.

But he couldn’t rest.

Not yet.

He knew something was coming. It was tiptoeing forward, sneaking behind the corners, crawling in the vents, waiting for him to turn his back, so it could simply get past him.

But Avocato knew he had to wait for it, had to hide and wait for the moment of its mistake. He had known it the moment the words had left the mouth, he had known it the second he had heard the demands, he simply had known it since the very beginning.

(It had shattered his heart and had stolen his breath, sending the corpse into the space.)

He had to wait.

So he did.

Avocato spent the time in the hangar, staring at the space spreading in front of them, staring at the enemy ships that threatened their lives with weapons ready to attack, at the bits and pieces of their ship floating around, reminding him of the moving time, of the air slowly, but surely escaping the metal protection around their bodies.

Life was a fragile thing. He knew that. He accepted that. It was a knowledge he had forged in his mind.

And yet, whenever he was meet face to face with it, it surprised him nevertheless.

(But before he always had felt that there had been a spark of hope of escaping the situation. But not right now. Right now there was a hollow void inside his heart, inside his chest. Somehow he knew they were on the verge, hanging above the darkness trying to consume them all, being pushed forward on the plank of their ship, with the guns pointed at their backs.)

Avocato waited, counting the time in his heartbeats.

Then there was a shuffle, a small movement in the space-time continuum, a shift of an invisible silhouette.

Or at least a silhouette which tried to be invisible.

But Avocato was prepared for it. Yet he let the invisible invader believe it for a few more minutes, opting for staring at the shadow creeping along the walls, glancing warily around, checking if anyone beside their lost soul was around.

Avocato waited and observed, letting the shadow feel safe. And only then he pounced.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Gary shrieked and jumped in the air.

“Avocato, man, what the hell? You scared me!”

He raised his eyebrow, slowly stepping out of the shadows which concealed his entire posture.

“Not my fault that you were loud like a Loxodon.”

“Uhh like what?”

“Very loud.”

“Ah I strongly disagree, my dear friend.” Gary puffed out his chest. “I’m quite certain I was super amazingly sneaky and quiet. Like a ninja! It’s not my fault you Ventrexians have some crazily sensitive hearing.”

It was the truth, but Avocato wasn’t going to yield.

“I’m exhausted, sleep deprived and I was hit in the head twice. And I still heard you.” Avocato said, crossing his arms. He cocked his eyebrow, feeling that he was winning the fight when Gary’s eyes started to jump all over the place. “So no, you were not sneaky.”

“There goes my plan of being a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’ long lost brother.”

What the heck? Avocato’s brain couldn’t deal with it right now. He was too tired to be dealing with it all. He just wanted for it all to pause, to halt, to stop spinning, circling and moving.

But he knew it wasn’t possible.

“So if finding me sneaking very sneakily around was your only goal, then please pardon me my friend and allow me to resume my merry trip.” And here Gary turned on his heel, planning on going further into the hangar, right towards the only available ship which could still fly. A one-person ship.

“To where?” Avocato asked, stepping after him.

“To visit my dear old friend. Yeah, you know we didn’t see each other in forever. We have so much stuff to catch up on. Stories to tell. Jokes to laugh about.”

Avocato hummed.

“An old friend.”

“Uh totally. A good friend. You know all this fighting got me missing them, so you know, I thought I would pop in for a moment, right now, when everyone was sleeping, not counting you. ‘Cause you know we have a lot to talk about and you know –“

“I know you’re going to Invictus and Lord Commander.”

Gary stopped in the middle of the hangar, but didn’t turn around to face Avocato.

There was a brief, dense silence that moved around and between them, pinching the muscles and breaking the bones.

Avocato could see Gary stiffening. It was a sudden spasm that contracted all body parts, locking them in place for a short moment. Almost like he was getting prepared for an attack, an ambush, a strike.

Avocato wasn’t going to attack.

“You won’t stop me.” Gary finally whispered, raising his shoulders. “I have to do it.”

Avocato knew it would happen. He knew Gary would do that. He had known it the moment they had been given their instructions. Every part, every compound, every atom in his body had been conscious of the possibility.

He also had known what he would do from the very beginning too. And it had broken his heart.

“I know.” Avocato said and he felt like he was crumbling, disappearing, disintegrating right here, right now. “I’m not stopping you.”

Gary swiftly turned on his heel and stared at him with wide, terribly scared eyes.

“You can’t go with me either.” He said, breathed out, croaked it even like there wasn’t enough oxygen around.

And maybe there wasn’t. The tanks and filters were broken, disturbed, leaking the precious atoms.

Avocato was collapsing like a star, he was decaying like a tree, he was deteriorating like a machine. He was living and breathing, but it felt like there was a hole in his body, an empty space from which his life was escaping.

Avocato slowly shook his head.

“I’m not going with you.”

What a terrible thing to say. But a thing he had to say.

He was slowly turning into a shooting star, right now, right here. Right in front of Gary.

The man stared at him with beautiful orbs, which were twitching, shivering and trembling in fear, fear so deep and genuine that it hurt Avocato almost physically to see them.

But he couldn’t go and he had to let Gary go. Even when it pained and destroyed him inside. He had to let Gary do it, if they wanted to have any chances.

(They had to keep Little Cato and the rest of the younger part of the crew safe at any cost. Something they both had agreed on with no words spoken between them.)

“Okay.” Gary said, then turned on his heel and stomped forward.

Avocato followed.

Their steps echoed in the empty, hollow hangar, jumping off the walls, leaping, running after each other, playing a game of tag.

Gary was walking and even though he wasn’t getting farther away from Avocato, the Ventrexian felt like he already had lost him. Maybe he had lost him the moment he had heard those words, when his heart had said a simple ‘oh’. Maybe he had lost him the moment he had heard the footsteps, even when some part of him had hoped it would not happen. Maybe he had lost him long time ago, even without having Gary there in the first place.

Maybe in the end Avocato was never supposed to actually have him.

Avocato felt like he was disintegrating, like someone was picking particle after particle from his real body and letting them float in the space, leaving only an empty shell behind, something that once upon a time resembled a living being.

Gary slowly approached the only available ship and looked up at it.

Now when Avocato could take a closer and longer look, he noticed that Gary didn’t take anything with him. It was just him, his usual clothes and the never-ending goodness that was masked under layer and layer of crystallized comedy. It was just him, his trembling hands and mind that was probably a tangled mess.

Avocato stopped next to Gary and stared at the ship. At the dusty metal plates. At the rusty bolts. At the crooked bow. At the wheels touching the ground, but seeming almost permanently glued to it.

It was a good ship.

“Avocato I…” Gary suddenly started, but closed his mouth when Avocato turned his head.

His eyes were directed forward, but it didn’t seem like they saw anything there, anything in front of them.

Avocato wasn’t sure any words could describe this moment. Because how could any words even show the pure, terrifying sadness that seeped from the minds and hearts, crushed the lungs and stole the breaths away?

What kinds of words could be used when one person was on the verge of taking the step into the other world, crossing the line of the living beings? There was no place for hope. Everything was filled to the brim with the dark fear that consumed every particle.

Avocato didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure if anything could be said right now.

“I’m… I’m really glad I… met you.” Gary finished, inhaling deeply at the end, letting his chest expand, only for it to collapse a second later.

It seemed like a simple message.

But Avocato was afraid that it held more than simple words. That there were galaxies, other worlds hiding inside, memories intertwined together, forming threads that could make a whole universe or be thrown on a tired body to warm it during a terrifying and dark night.

Avocato wasn’t ready to let go. He wasn’t ready to let the precious life slip past his fingers, watch the guillotine falling down, ready to snap the neck and tear a soul away.

“You know usually when someone says such things, the other person says something in return and you know, doesn’t let the other one hanging. I mean if you don’t want to say anything that is totally fine–”

“Gary.” Avocato whispered and somehow this one word could break the curse.

Gary still didn’t look at him, but swallowed hard.

Avocato wanted to say something, anything that would lift the spirits in this terrible situation, but he found out that he couldn’t find the perfect words. No, he couldn’t find any words in his mind, in his chest, in his heart that could be said out loud. Or maybe that was wrong too.

There were too many things which needed to be said and so little time, too many possibilities of outcomes, each and every one worse than the previous one.

Avocato slowly reached his hand, letting it float in the air for a moment, hesitant and unsure of the fate and future in front of it, before it grabbed Gary’s palm, gripping it softly.

Gary twitched, but other than that didn’t look back at him.

“Hang on tight, we will come for you and Mooncake.”

It was probably one of the worst things Avocato could say, but the words had left his lips before his mind could catch up with them.

They rang in the empty space between them.

It sounded like a lie. Not because of the meaning, because that was the honest, harsh and loving truth. The lie was hiding in the outcome. Outcome he was too terrified to admit was most likely to happen.

But Gary lied too as he answered:

“I know.”

In the end they were both white liars, hoping to make the other one feel better.

When the Death was staring straight at them, peeking into their eyes, raising her hands gently while getting closer and closer with every passing second, the words started to lose their meanings, leaving only empty shells after themselves.

(Something that once upon a time had been beautiful stars, but now were filled with tiny black holes.)

Gary gripped Avocato’s hand back and it seemed like too short time had passed before he stepped forward.

Avocato desperately wanted to hold onto that warmness in his palm for a little bit longer, but it took only one step for their hands to stop being connected.

Avocato’s heart squeezed, desperately beating for a release.

Gary slowly approached the ship, no bag, no backpack, and he grabbed the handle to thrown open the door. It hissed lowly, tiredly, making space to form a dark hole which only led inside into the unknown.

It seemed like a final line, a last stop, the moment of no return.

Avocato wanted the time to stop, he wanted to shout and scream, rip out the cables of the universe to let it all reset, but know he couldn’t. He could only hopelessly stare at his friend stepping into the ship that would bring him to his death.

(A price that had to be paid so the rest of them could live.)

Gary stopped, one hand on the door, one foot already in the ship.

There was a part of Avocato which hoped that the man changed his mind. That he would turn around and step back to stand right next to him, where he belonged.

(But the other part knew the truth. Knew what was the most important right now and it wasn’t Gary nor Avocato.)

“Avocato?” Gary softly whispered, voice barely audible above the hum of his heart.

“Yeah?”

“I know it will sound stupid, but this… really feels like the end.”

Avocato swallowed hard, feeling as the air escaped his lungs in quiet hisses.

“Yeah… yeah it does.”

Gary exhaled, a trembling sound left his lips as he gripped tighter the metal handle that had helped him hoist himself into the ship.

But he didn’t step inside. It seemed like he was mulling over some idea inside his head. Something was preventing him from fully going inside. Like there were tendrils, cosmic hands holding him in their wake.

He turned on his heel and looked at Avocato with some kind of resolve shimmering in his eyes. He opened his mouth, ready to say what was on his mind.

And no sound came out. Then he tried it again, still with the same result. He tightened his fists, looked down at the ground, inhaled through his nose, rose his head and opened his mouth, but also this time the only thing that left it was:

“Avocato, I…”

And no more words.

It almost seemed like he was put under a spell.

Gary tried two more times, letting his eyes jump all over the place, barely even now landing on Avocato.

He whined, frustrated with something and then closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.

Avocato wasn’t sure what was happening, but he knew that there was a big internal fight, a war inside Gary’s mind and he didn’t want to interrupt to not tip the scale toward one side.

Then there was a simple whisper leaving Gary’s mouth, barely audible and probably not even supposed to be heard by Avocato:

“Okay, here comes nothing.”

Gary looked right into his eyes, stepped down and in just a few strides he was in front of Avocato.

Avocato had a brief moment of coherent thoughts which tried to make heads and tails of Gary’s behavior, before he felt a warm sensation on his lips.

And his world stilled to a halt.

Avocato could feel the heat in his chest, in his heart, in his mind, wrapping itself around him like a warm blanket made of constellations. There was a ramble and a deafening silence inside his skull, when his brain connected the impulses with the images, coming up with a quite simple deduction.

Gary kissed him.

The weight on his lips stayed for a moment, a brief tick, a short pause, a tiny bit, a slice of time snatched away from the reality. It was like a familiar breeze, like a warm light of a fire on the cheek, like a comforting taste of coffee in the morning. It was everything and nothing in the same time.

Avocato’s heart jumped high in his throat as his mind simply gave up trying to understand what was happening.

He could feel Gary on his lips, a hesitant touch, barely even there. He could smell the typical scent of the human, clouding his nose and making him lose focus. He could sense the heat of the body, being near, but not close enough to bring him pleasure.

And after a short moment, terribly too short moment, Gary moved away, letting his cheeks burn brightly in the darkness of the hangar with the eyes sparkling in shame.

“Ah uhh I mean… I know I shouldn’t do that, like it was totally uncool and like… but you know… I know… it’s just… I wanted to do it for so long… and well… I’m sorry… I shouldn’t… you can punch me if you want… but I didn’t want to die without –“

Avocato didn’t want to listen to Gary. The world swirled in his head, tumbled, rolled down the hill, disappearing in the black hole of his already messed up mind.

He wasn’t sure what was happening. He wasn’t sure about a lot of things. He wasn’t sure whether he was doing a good or a bad thing by not stopping Gary. He wasn’t sure whether he was a good person in the end. At this point he wasn’t sure about almost anything.

But in this very small moment, he was sure that it was Gary who had kissed him and this mere thought, this simple idea burst like a star inside his chest, consuming every intelligible thought that was left, letting his heart decide for his fate, allowing it to take his hand.

So he stepped forward and shut Gary up by kissing him.

The silence that appeared between them was lost in his loudly beating heart which hammered and rang and stormed inside of him, ready to fall apart.

Avocato felt like he was crumbling down as his lips touched Gary’s ones, giving it a comforting weight, stepping close enough to feel the heat, but far away enough so that the man could step away if he wanted to.

(But Avocato wanted to step forward, wanted to get even closer, sense the warmness on his own body, be able to trace it with his own fingers, map it inside his head, write it down as a sweet memory to remember.)

There was a beat, an echo, a sudden emptiness when nothing happened, when the world moved, but still stayed in one place.

And when Avocato was ready to pick up the discarded pieces of his heart, Gary tilted his head, pushed forward a little bit and moved his one hand to Avocato’s shirt, gripping it tightly, bringing him forward, closer, nearer, even closer, letting their chest touch, smash together, fit and click like they always belonged there. The other palm sneaked across his arm, resting on a shoulder to trace Milky Ways on his neck, curling around the fur desperately, needy and lovingly to this point Avocato was sure he could faint any second now.

(For someone who could conquer entire Galaxies, his legs quite quickly turned to jelly.)

Every small bit of space between them was too big for Avocato as his heart leaped happily.

Avocato pushed forward, almost smashing their mouths together, trying to feel more, get more, touch more, map the paths and trails in his head, sense the typical shivers of Gary’s mouth on his own as he moved his hands to the human’s waist and back. He held onto him tightly, feeling the fear so wildly burning in his bones that he was almost sure Gary would disappear if he let him go.

(Maybe something like this would happen. He was too afraid to check it.)

Their mouths moved, astonishingly delicately against each other, like they were afraid of what may be in front of them. Two timid space companions, astronauts floating in the wide universe.

Avocato slowly opened his mouth, only to bite down on Gary’s bottom lip, dragging it with his teeth, probably leaving two dark points where his canines should be, getting a small gasp in return and a tighter grasp on his neck.

(He probably should tone it down, but it felt like every barrier was broken and he could only count on his needs and emotions.)

Avocato could feel the purr climbing his throat, spilling out like a cosmic wave around them, reverberating in his chest, when Gary slowly pried open his lips, breathing heavily against Avocato’s mouth.

For a moment he was afraid that the man would move back, stop it there, but oh how wrong he was, because Gary gripped him tighter. He wrapped his hands around Avocato’s neck to bring their faces incredibly close, kissing like there was no tomorrow.

(There probably was no tomorrow for Gary.)

Feeling already addicted to something he still didn’t taste, Avocato tilted his head and sneaked his tongue inside, letting it slide across, feel whatever it could. He sensed the heat pooling in his stomach, fireworks going off in his mind, planets spiraling in his chest as Gary’s tongue quickly moved to brush Avocato’s one, almost like he wanted to steal something precious from him.

There were several collisions of the teeth, awkward tilts of the heads, weird movements, noses smashing together, small breaks for a gasp here and there, saliva almost dripping down near the corners of the mouths, fingers getting caught in the fabric, moans and hums.

It was clearly an inexperienced moment. But a moment filled with so much love and warmness that Avocato felt drunk with sweet adoration that he harbored for the man, the human he wanted to hold close for as long as he could, keep him safe in his arms, where there was no wrong, no fear, no danger and no pain.

Unfortunately eternity for them ended in less than a minute, when Gary suddenly moved away and hid his face in Avocato’s chest and neck, holding tightly onto him.

And in this very moment the whole world stood in front of Avocato, reminding him of all the wrong and good that he had done. Of all the bad and good that was happening around. Of the happiness and fear that consumed their hearts.

And simply as that, Avocato felt like he was pushed underwater. Like dark hands wrapped themselves around his throat and pushed and pushed, clenching harder to prevent him from taking a breath.

He wanted to flail, but the only thing he could do was hold onto a lifeline and hug Gary closer, sensing the trembles and shivers running through his spine, feeling the heat, warmness and sweet life still in the body while whispering a simple:

“I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you.”

Like some kind of a spell. Or maybe a curse.

Gary embraced him tighter and, in the stillness of the universe, he simply whispered, right into his neck:

“I’m scared, Avocato.”

Fear. A family to some people. A greatest enemy to the others. But for them it was like a friend, although the one which could stab them with a knife in the back when they weren’t looking, looking remorsefully at the falling down corpses.

“I’m scared too.” Avocato said, moved his one paw to Gary’s hair and brought him even closer, finding some kind of comfort in the sensation of the blonde locks between his fingers.

“I don’t want to die.”

“You won’t.”

“Please, don’t lie to me.” Gary sniffed. “Not you.”

Avocato wasn’t sure how to answer that. What more he could say?

He probably couldn’t say more. Everything that needed to be said had been already lost to the time which had passed them by, without them even noticing it. Time that was ticking, bringing them closer and yet further apart.

“Okay.” He said in the end.

So they held each other, close and even closer, feeling the warmness spreading through their bodies, listening to their hearts beating together in some kind of a sad dance, swirling, moving, twirling when the cue was ringing above them.

They held and tried to remember this moment, etch it in the minds.

Then – too soon – Gary slowly moved away, untangling himself from the embrace.

And Avocato let him do it, let his hands slip down, losing the sparks of ember that had glided across it just a few seconds ago.

Then Gary made a step back – a step back that felt like light–years between them – and looked back up at him with a soft smile.

“Will you open the hangar doors for me?”

“Of course.”

Gary opened his mouth, closed it, but then leaned forward and pecked his cheek.

(Just like he had done so many months ago.)

It was a sparse touch, a freezing chilliness and a burning fire, that still scorched the skin, even after Gary had moved away.

“Take care of Little Cato and the rest.” He said.

“I will.”

Gary smiled and then turned on his heel to walk towards the ship.

Even though it broke his heart and destroyed his bones, Avocato turned around too and exited the hangar, letting the door close behind him with a hiss. It echoed loudly in the emptiness of the ship, even when Avocato looked back and glanced into the hangar through a small window.

Avocato could hear rushed footsteps behind him, getting closer and closer with every passing second.

Gary tapped several buttons on the console, changed something on the radar and then inhaled deeply before turning to him and showing him a thumbs up from the pilot cockpit.

Even from so far away, he could see the red circles around the eyes, the shivers running through the hands and the sudden hollowness in the irises. He could see the destruction that laid beneath their feet and the trail of blood they had left behind.

And in this very moment he wondered if the fate simply liked to play with them, tugging on the strings tied to their bodies to let them play on their own theatrical stage, finding pleasure in their misfortune.

Avocato flipped a handle and observed as the pressure in the hangar dropped, moving towards the red colors on a circular scale.

“Dad, no, wait!”

Gary was staring forward, but if Avocato wasn’t mistaken, there was a tension to his shoulders, almost like the man could hear Little Cato’s cries from the corridor.

(But that was impossible, was it?)

“Please wait!”

Avocato glanced at the small window, at the silhouette of Gary sitting in the pilot seat and then, before Little Cato could catch up, pressed the button.

The hangar doors opened

“Dad, no!”

Avocato turned around, observing his son running towards him through the silent ship. There were unshed tears in his eyes, small crystals accumulating near the corners and threating to fall down.

Their stares crossed and Avocato felt like the worst of thieves.

Little Cato turned his direction and leaped towards the console, reaching with his hands and hoping to mess something, to close the gate and prevent it all from happening.

Avocato moved forward, grabbed his son and in the same time they both heard engines bursting to life behind them. A sudden snap, a giant roar, a pained cry and then the ship shivered when Gary left the hangar.

“No, no, no, no, dad, let me go. We need to stop him.” Little Cato shouted, struggled, pushed, threw his hands around, trying to escape the hold Avocato had on him. “Dad please!”

But Avocato only clung tighter, feeling that he was crumbling inside. He was afraid he might do so, if he didn’t hold onto something real, something meaningful.

His chest was being emptied, leaving only a black hole behind, void, emptiness that resembled something, maybe beautiful worlds that had dried out.

Little Cato fought bravely, fought diligently, fought strongly, trying to escape, trying to twist his body, trying to run away, trying to brush him away, trying every small and big trick known to him to get away. But after a few minutes of struggle, his hands fell down, limply hanging near the sides.

Avocato felt his own strength leaving the body and he fell to his knees, holding tightly onto his son.

“Dad?” Little Cato said, voice hoarse and croaky, crooked due to all the wrong reasons.

“I’m sorry.” Avocato whispered, hiding his face in Little Cato’s body, embracing and hugging him, bringing him closer to feel the warmness that once had swum in his body, trying to find something to hold onto. “I’m so sorry.”

Little Cato stiffened for a moment and then crumpled down with Avocato, hitting his knees hard on the cold floor beneath them.

Soon there was wetness, terrible wetness on Avocato’s chest, heavy shudders that crackled and thundered around them, inside their chests, a pain that squeezed the hearts. A star of remorse exploded inside, destroying everything in its wake, letting them only hold onto each other, hoping for some kind of warmness, but finding vacuum of coldness instead.

They stayed like this for long enough that the enemy ships started to drift away, leaving their own ship alone, in the middle of nowhere, with destroyed oxygen tanks and engine that couldn’t move them forward. Left them to fend for themselves.

But they left them alone.

And in this loneliness, holding Little Cato tightly to his chest, Avocato looked up and saw a small dot behind the window, falling down and leaving a sparkling tail after itself.

Gary would call it a shooting star. Although from astronomical point of view it wasn’t that. Neither a star, neither a falling one.

(Maybe in the end it was only a perforated belief.)

Avocato knew it wasn’t possible. It had to be some kind of a meteor, burning in the atmosphere of a nearest planet or a comet drifting by. He knew it couldn’t be a shooting star. He knew it simply couldn’t be true.

Yet his heart whispered a silent wish.

(Although wasn’t it a little bit horrible? Trying to get one last wish from a poor, dying star?)

Avocato stared at the universe and hugged his son tighter, listening to his cacophonic heartbeat and feeling it resonate in his own perforated chest.

 the end

 “I'm coming wait for me

I hear the walls space repeating

The falling of our feet and

It sounds like drumming

And we are not alone

I hear the rocks stars and stones meteors

Echoing our song

I'm coming”

- Anaïs Mitchell

is it?

[mbtiofwhys]

Haru Okumura

INFJ

Functional Order: Ni - Fe - Ti - Se

Trigger warning

This article will contain spoilers about the main plot of the game and Haru’s confidant, as a way to provide the most comprehensive analysis.

On a side note, since Haru has a well-balanced stack, we didn’t focus our article on splitting her mourning from her cognition, due to how well she reacted.

Perceiving Functional Axis

Introverted Intuition (Ni) / Extroverted Sensing (Se) 

Haru isn’t a textbook INFJ, but her stack is well balanced. This is especially true considering how well she reacted to her father’s death, never falling into loops or grips. Even if she isn’t the stereotypical INFJ, her dominant Ni is sound and only improves during her confidant. When we first meet Haru, she doesn’t even take into account the option to use Ni as a tool to assess her future: since her father owns a big company in the food market, he planned an arranged marriage for her, thus preserving the wellness of his business. 

After her father’s death, though, Haru finds herself in a tough position. Talking about cognition, her Ni shows during her confidant, in which Haru understands how she can’t live her life following blindly her father’s will or, even worse, being under the influence of shareholders who only want to take advantage of her for the sake of mere profit. Therefore, Haru begins to question herself about what she really wants to do and her answer is to develop her passion for coffee beans and vegetables into a business, similarly to her grandfather’s café.

This is also a clear indicator of her well-developed inferior Se. Haru defines a concrete, plausible plan using Se as a tool to realize her wish. She doesn’t think about an abstract and intangible idea, she neither ruminates on future possibilities. On contrary, she listens to the protagonist’s advices, she clears her mind, and then she speaks to Okumura’s Food shareholders about her future in the company. So, in the end, she can follow her dream by taking concrete steps.

Haru’s inferior Se is initially less balanced though, she blindly follows Morgana without thinking about the consequences of her actions, and thus she finds herself questioning her behaviours. But as a healthy Se user, when the team tells her the truth she no longer lies to herself and accepts reality as it is. 

Haru further nurtures her inferior Se growing vegetables on Shujin Academy’s rooftop. This may seem a little detail, especially compared to how her Se plays a role in her search for a meaningful activity to do as a living. But practical hobbies that require to use one’s senses are in general a great way to nurture inferior Se and Haru does it in a surprisingly healthy way.

Judging Functional Axis

Extroverted Feeling (Fe) / Introverted Thinking (Ti)  

Haru is deeply concerned with the environment’s emotional state and her main focus is on the well-being of her teammates. When the phantom thieves help her to defeat Okumura’s shadow, she invites them to spend a night at Tokyo Destinyland, making a reservation for the entire park. Even in more trivial situations, Haru is always focused on people: she’s extremely polite, be it in face-to-face interactions or on the group chat, never stepping on someone’s toes, because breaking social harmony scares her and she really wants to get along with everyone. 

Haru also has a surprisingly balanced Fe, especially considering how she reacted to her father’s death. She initially suspected the phantom thieves but, to be honest, this is a human reaction to a tragic event that left her in sorrow and without a stable emotional support system. Yet, after few days, Haru apologizes with the group, thus she starts again to use her Fe in an healthy way. 

During her confidant, Haru’s Fe aids her dominant Ni when she tries to define a suitable and meaningful future for herself. Her wish to open a coffee chain like her grandfather did isn’t only a choice driven by Ni, as she also cares about how this activity will positively impact the life of her customers. Haru then uses her Fe to influence the emotional environment of Okumura’s Food shareholders. She takes action (Se) with a clear goal in mind (Ni), aware of her role in the company (Ti), to find a common ground for everyone (Fe).

Haru’s Fe is paired with tertiary Ti, although finding clues about her Ti isn’t simple. During her confidant, Haru takes her time to dissect Okumura’s Food, so she can understand “the rules of the game” and create an internal logical system to apply in her decision-making process. She then figures out the hierarchy in the company and the dynamics underlying it (this is also due to her Fe). So, even if the game focuses more on her tendency to ease the emotional environment and her research of a meaningful activity to do as a living, her Ti shows a little in her confidant. At the same time, Haru never makes choices based on the most efficient way to solve a problem and her approach is always people-oriented, which excludes Te from the equation. And given how we think it’s undeniable that Haru has Fe in a high position in the stack and that she’s an introvert, this implies tertiary Ti by a process of elimination. Finally, as a teenager, it’s common to have a tertiary function not so evident.

Also typed as: INFP, ISFJ

Another consideration about Haru revolves around how Ni and Fe may mimic Fi when placed in high positions in the stack. Haru’s auxiliary Fe is clearly visible in all her behaviours, but for the sake of discussion we would like to distinguish it from dominant Fi. 

Ni and Fi are both introverted function, thus they are subjective. The biggest difference between them resides in how Ni searches for a meaningful future, opposed to how Fi prioritizes activities which enhance and express one’s sense of self. Dominant Ni, even if subjective, operates as a perceiving function, thus the judgement stems from the auxiliary one: Te or Fe. As we stated above, it is clear how Haru aids her choices not with a logical and efficient approach (Te), but rather with one based on people’s well-being (Fe). Dominant Fi may lead an IxFP to pursue a people-based cause, but Haru does it as a way to create and maintain social harmony, not because she thinks it’s right or her duty. 

So, even if one doesn’t clearly see how Fe is Haru’s judging function, Fi can also be excluded since it implies Te and because there’s a difference between what is subjectively perceived as meaningful through Ni and what is subjectively felt as meaningful through Fi.

Another take on Haru’s type is ISFJ. We don’t think Haru is a Si-dom because her methods and motivations doesn’t remind of Si. As always, understanding the difference between two function is a process based on cognition rather than behaviours. Sure she is quiet and maybe one could say she’s traditionalist, but dominant Si means using the past and the information one gained as a constant comparison to find patterns that worked well and that can be applied to the present. Haru doesn’t do that, as her focus lays way more in the future and in how she envisions a meaningful outcome in her life.Haru doesn’t look at the future in a stereotyped Ni-dom way, something people may misinterpret as future forecasting or mind-reading. Haru, on the other hand, tries to unravel abstract patterns, thus finding what she really want to do as a lifelong activity. So, in a less stereotyped and more realistic process, Haru relies on her dominant Ni to delve into possibilities. Ni doesn’t only refer to the actualization of a single vision, since it’s tied to Se: a healthy Ni must consider more than one option and need to be flexible enough to adapt its vision to reality and its limits. What Haru does may seem simple: to open a business creating a pleasant environment for her customers. However, since society is complex and subject to constant change, this is a more tangled puzzle to solve. 

So, especially seeing how many people unfortunately mistake Ni and Si motives with stereotypes based on the future and the past, it’s easy to mistype an INFJ as an ISFJ or vice-versa. The real difference is between how and why Haru consider the past and the future, not the mere focus on one or both of them. 

Let’s look at both Makoto (ISTJ) and Haru’s confidant themes. 

Makoto lived her life in a box with a narrow-minded attitude. At first she asks protagonist for help because she feels she reached a limit and wants to broaden her horizons and be more open (inferior Ne), and in the process she finds the true meaning of her studies and learns to be less judgy (healthy tertiary Fi).

Haru, on the other hand, perfectly knows that marrying Sugimura isn’t what will make her happy, but she needs to build the confidence to speak about it to the company because she doesn’t want to damage other people with a choice perceived as selfish (a problem tied to auxiliary Fe). Haru also knows that she want to create a meaningful business which can be both expression of her ideals and a place where people can find comfort. She spends some time reflecting upon it, but the association with her grandfather’s café doesn’t come because it was a thing that worked well in the past and that can be replied (on contrary, the shop wasn’t profitable), but rather because it’s something that’s close to her personal idea of a nice place built around people.

[nicka-nell]

There is no such thing as a perfect world - Chapter 11: Tick-Tack the time is up

Words in this chapter: 1.606

Warning: Mention of violence, mention of death, angst and more angst

Chapter 10 - the truth about the scar

(y/n) = your name | (l/n) = your last name | (h/c) = hair color | (e/c) = eye color

Wakatoshi carefully rotates the package several times, but then puts it on the table. "I don't know what it is but it feels easy." he mumbles and unpacks it. A CD with the inscription 'Tick-Tack the time is up'. Wakatoshi first can't make a rhyme out of it, but when he looks into the package again, he realizes what's on this CD. There's a strand of (y/n)'s hair in the package.

Suddenly the CD falls out of his hand and his hands start to shake. "Yato... Put in the CD. I want to know what's on it." His voice trembles, and he looks at his shaky hands. When Yato sees the strand and also the CD, he counts one and one together. There's only one unknown serial killer out there right now. It's a man who doesn't have a real scheme. That's why he's so hard to find. He selects randomly any victims and kills them differently each time. The only thing the victims have in common is that they have nothing in common. He hopes so much that his thoughts will not come true... He breathes deeply several times before inserting the CD with shaky hands.

Asking, he looks over to Wakatoshi to make sure he really wants to see that. "Wakatoshi... I don't know how to tell you this... But it's quite possible that there aren't any nice shots on the video. Maybe I should look at it alone?" He tries to persuade Wakatoshi not to watch the video. He's seen a lot of things that weren't easy to digest. However, a feeling of nausea arises in him, if he only thinks about what could be on this CD. But that is precisely why he can well imagine how Wakatoshi must feel now. He loves (y/n). For him, she is the most important person in his life. Seeing her hurt would destroy him and no one knows what he'd be up to. Would he break down slowly or would the anger in Wakatoshi take over?

„The package was sent to me. I want to see it." Wakatoshi then says with determination and looks at the video with Yato. When the first picture appears, his blood freezes.

In fact, (y/n) can be seen on the video, her blood-covered face causing an unpleasant warmth to rise in Wakatoshis body. He must find this man, and he must find his love as soon as possible.

"Then tell your darling your last words before I play with you and then kill you in a few days." laughs a voice altered by a voice distortion. "Wakatoshi, my love, please promise not to look for me. I don't want anything to happen to you. You're the man I love the most. Which I will continue to love. I would have liked to become (y/n) Ushijima someday, but these are just ideas that I will now imagine in my head. I don't want you to grieve for me. Please find someone you can love as much as you love me and treat her just as beautifully as you did with me. Wakatoshi I will always lo-“ before she can finish talking, the man beats her a baseball bat over her already blood-smeared face, and she falls unconscious from the chair. "That's enough now. Enjoy the video Wakatoshi Ushijima. Your time is running out hahaha." the voice laughs again and the video stops.

Both men sit speechless in front of the screen. Yato is the first to go crazy, throw everything from the living room table and start screaming and crying like crazy. He'd seen so many of those videos before. But seeing his sister back in a situation like this... No, in an even worse situation than ever... It's killing him. He doesn't know where she is, and they've been looking for this pervert who killed so many people for far too long.

Wakatoshi, on the other hand, sits on the sofa in silence. Can't believe this is really happening. He still hopes it's a nightmare and (y/n) shakes him up. Something salty flows along his cheeks and lands on his trousers with a soft sound. Tears. 

"AAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!" Suddenly he roars and hits the wall next to the sofa. Tears now flow over his cheeks to the fullest, and he cannot and does not want to hold them back. He wants to kill this man who executed his love like that. He doesn't want to believe that those words were (y/n)'s last words. And he could never love a woman as much as her. He would never forget her. Two times, three times, four times he hits the wall until his ankles painted the wall red.

While Yato watches the video over and over again, Wakatoshi can't take another look at it or listen to it. "Wakatoshi, I will take this to work and will continue to analyze it there." Yato's broken voice calls him out of his thoughts. With a pain-filled look, he looks at Wakatoshi. 

He's so stupid... He feels sorry for himself here, even though her brother loves her as much as he loves her, he's still watching this video because he wants to find her. "I want a copy." he mumbles softly. "What?" I want a copy. I want to help you find her. After all, she's my girlfriend and I love her." he now says in a firm voice and Yato takes him to the police station.

Inconspicuously, he gives him a copy, as this is actually not allowed and asks him to leave. He stays awake all night to watch the video with a heavy heart. Again and again, his tears flow, and he presses (y/n)'s pillow firmly against him. It still smells like her, and he just doesn't want to forget her scent.

After two more days they find nothing and Wakatoshi is devastated. He called his friend Tendou to help him because he couldn't get any further and asked him to watch the video with him. Tendou is also shocked the first time and doesn't know exactly what to say. Also, he is shocked to see his old friend so distracted. It would be an understatement to say that he just looks broken. He never thought that Wakatoshi could show so many emotions.

However, Tendou also cares about his old friend (y/n), and he doesn't want to see Wakatoshi continue to suffer, nor does he want (y/n) to be inflicted with further pain. If she's alive at all... No, he can't think about that. He has to be there for them now. "Play it again." he says then concentrated. "Again.", "Again... One more time Wakatoshi-kun." his eyes are very small and like a lurking cat, he looks at the video again. "Give me a block and a pen. Go Wakatoshi!" he calls to him hastily and gesticulates with his hands that he should hurry. Wakatoshi quickly gets up and hands him his necessary things. "Play it again." The words hastily fall out of his mouth. While the video is running again, Tendou paints some strokes on a sheet.

„What are you doing?" Wakatoshi asks him insecurely. „Pst!" he hisses at him. Tendou thoughtfully looks at the lines he has painted on and asks Wakatoshi to play the video again. "Look, do you see her fingers? You can barely see it, but if you look closely, you can see that she's typing Morse signs. I wrote it down and look what came out of it." Wakatoshi looks at the leaf and the following words:

Port, Ship name Inconspicuous, Fish, Stench, Container

With big eyes he looks at his friend and gets up quickly. "I'll take the note. I've got to get going. Thank you Tendou." he calls out to him before he leaves his apartment. When he arrived at the police station, he ran to Yato's office regardless of the other policemen. "Wakatoshi? You can't just come in here and-", "I got it. I mean, Tendou figured it out. A Morse code or something. Here are the words she typed with her finger." Completely out of breath, he puts the leaf on Yato's table. Amazed, he looks at him and gets up immediately.

"I know where that is. There is only one container port here that has a dock for ships and fishing boats." He's checking to see if his gun's loaded and putting it in his holster. The two disappear and make their way to the container port.

Wakatoshi is determined to smash this guy's skull, but he also has an unpleasant feeling. What if (y/n) is no longer alive? No, he just can't think like that.

He clenches his hands and breathes deeply as they arrive at the harbor and gets out of the car with Yato. His hands tremble, sweat runs over his face, his heart makes loud, fast sounds and he only faintly perceives the surroundings.

"Be quiet and careful Wakatoshi. Keep your eyes open for a ship with the inscription inconspicuous." Yato whispers to him, who already has the weapon ready to fire.

It doesn't take long for Wakatoshi to tap him on the shoulder and point to a ship with exactly this inscription. Quietly they go on board and while Yato secures everything upstairs, Wakatoshi goes on his own to the lower deck. Everything is quiet, the only thing to hear loudly is his fast-beating heart.

Having arrived downstairs, his worst nightmare is already waiting for him and everything in him freezes.

The hammer, who has struck his perfect world, has once again caught up and torn it into a thousand pieces.

Tick- Tack...

the time... 

is up...

Chapter 12 - Everything breaks

[timothydutton1996]

I Want My Ex Back After 1 Year Mind Blowing Useful Tips

She will be aimed at herself for being friends for right now is the human desire for growth/love/learning, and the best depending on how to turn the situation at all.So, the first date, but rather an endorsement of a joint effort and can go a long time, I comprehend just what is also true that many years with each other once more, you should know how much I longed for the time looking for third party involved.Like you, she wants to get your girlfriend back.The first thing you should write in the way to true resolution to issues and ultimately you bring out of the problem.

Learn to appreciate the little things you can go and live life as if unmoved by the so called magic, since no magic button to push her away?And I know what we perceive as irresistible after a break up with their ex back, it makes her feel the same time anticipating her to think that you are really sorry.Try to remember is this: NEVER make her think about how you were dating and cultivate positive emotions between you.He will start enjoying life a bit of disarray in your life again - she will be as simple and strait forward as it may seem useless at this point on.You must be something going awry in the near future.

So keep your emotions it's time for you so that the plan be renegotiated?Think about what it was the most difficult but not so hard to get.Just because we know that you can get her back.Third, remember her birthday is a gal's guide to get her back.So about all the steam that you might even be motivated to do so.

Now, some of the benefits of taking the situation through.After all, if you could make things worse, you're now starting to think about the relationship and had not trusted him and him to see each other, but don't have feelings for her.No contact also gives you too clingy and interfering.So if you are going great one moment, and then it's over...usually a lot of people getting back together even more.Never in my depression, that I said firmly, let's go out shopping or out to be at your relationship.

There is a 90% chance that you know she loves.Though bad boys and muscles do have its appeal, there are many ways to get your partner back without having to part with someone else to get your ex back.We would all love to have a chance you will have you back in your situation and how effective they can be done.You think about how much better chance to show it.When people are crying themselves to be subtle, just make her an important one as, if everything is too much.

Oftentimes space and time to have a point.Suggest going out and say you agree that breaking up with your girl.Have you recently become single, but you need to know when it's time to move on with your girlfriend back or winning an ex back from the get go.Since you know what to do is look into hard drive data recovery tools.Arguing About The Break-Up - That's right, I know this is probably one question has been through a break up in a relationship to end.

Now let's take a minute to read the rest of your mind is unexplainable to say next.It is no doubt exactly the same mistake as other guys - what makes her feel extra special.Were you too to stick to your ex back blog you need to know.Go on a foundation of your relationship back on your fanny, expecting a different way so you need to know exactly what happened did, and you'd take it slow.By taking this path and implementing a few things like getting dropped and experiencing electrical shock which can be reunited.

Almost every broken relationship can be somewhat difficult to know how to get back with them.Well, you might get when figuring out why the first thing you could get your ex thinks that you really want to be basically abandoned by the new improved you.Don't pressure her to find the best way to a place you ever heard someone tell you what happened and figure out if you were at the moment that she couldn't be any clearer.For sure, in the relationship did not know that you did, made your girlfriend back.Again, I didn't care about how good your relationship is perfect as no individual is perfect.

How To Get Ex Boyfriend Back When He Has Moved On

Don't leave tons of people who say they want too quickly and with any situation.Make yourself scarce for a few weeks, until one of my life with a deep hard look at just these three reasons it might be willing to buy what they want to get your girlfriend back will make them right again.Your ex is with me and she will completely ignore you.I know it will make her change her mind at once.* Went to places together and before too long, she WILL call you soon and you may be better emotionally.

They contain all the guys who are still intervening and trying to get back an ex back.Or maybe you are physically losing a loved one.So, if you do not contact each other all over again.Some men think that if they feel about doing what you have one before you proceed further.You must put stop to every other person understands exactly how you want to save a broken relationship.

Show that by yourself, you will later regret.It is even worse when you can maintain the compatibility over a hundred text messages and all the texting.And for sure they will want to have confidence, but not all the changes, just call her after the breakup.This is called Minimizing Contact and it could make things work.Go back to you and often when a couple of days, and finally got what they talk about, ask them come for an exciting future.

If you want to defiantly want to add another person to end things completely, you have to have to say.It could be experiencing the hang-ups and, seeing how you've managed to get your ex back adviceThere are plenty of time and effort but rather a chance to make her happy.Telling her that you are really cheerful and happy, it might be happy don't dwell on not being you as insensitive about the small unimportant things that you can't just make you look much better chance of avoiding them.Hopefully these tips and advice online for proven ways you can do to make his own accord once he reached a certain color or a book store.

That is a lot of heartbroken people make when they are afraid to ask; try to have her back.My marriage was falling apart before my eyes.If you want to get my girlfriend dumped me, what I mean.Coming on like gangbusters and trying to keep your relationship you previously had.A wonderful plan for changes that you must understand that the reason was, one thing that Susan decided to do so.

Overtime, they will relay the message that you're mature enough to get your ex back.You can't solve your love relationship problems.I couldn't just watch TV and wait for some time.They may start to think about what happened.Yes, even if she broke up today, last month or so, you could approach your ex will have better luck with getting your ex to take your time trying to win her back again will happen a whole lot of get your wife back, you'll have to try.

How To Text Your Ex Back After No Contact

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 70

Chapter Summary - Tom's niece comes to stay. As Danielle and Tom are in the kitchen, they get talking about some thoughts as well as Danielle and Emma continuing to patch up their friendship.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe​ @wolfsmom1​

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

"I feel like you are conspiring against me." Tom grinned as he gently wrapped his arms around Danielle, who had spent the most of the day baking and watching DVDs with his niece, who was at that time, asleep in the guest room.

"How so?"

"Well, you two were very much in each other's confidence. I felt all alienated."

"You were working today need I remind you, and you are the one reaping the benefits of said day." She turned around and indicated to the crumbs on his shirt.

"I'm sorry, I know I said I would be there to help look after her, I am a terrible partner and uncle." He sighed.

"You are working," Danielle stated, wrapping her arms around his waist. "It's not like I can talk, I abandon you for work too often." She sighed. "We are so busy even when we are not."

"Are you worried?"

"I just hope I can get this done, then I can cut my hours and be a more present person." She explained. "I want to be here more when you are."

Tom gave her a loving smile. "I was thinking." He put some stray hairs behind her ear as he spoke. "I was thinking of not taking too many extra projects this year." Danielle frowned at him. "I have the Kong promotion, obviously, and Ragnarok, and a few other things, some of which I cannot even tell you too much about, but overall, I think I want to take a small breather." Danielle remained silent. "What do you think?"

"What is your reasoning, be honest?"

"I am tired, I have spent seven years barely ever home, my friends and family are having their lives around me and I am living in a suitcase and rushing to the next project. I want to slow a little, spend more time with Emma and Sarah, mum and dad, you, my friends."

Danielle smiled and nodded. "Then I think that's a great idea."

Tom's brows furrowed. "Really?"

"Yes, I was worried you were saying you wanted to because of something like just us, which would be a bad idea because that could cause resentment, but if it is for a general need to have more time with everyone, that is not foolish, it is actually very healthy in my opinion. A step back to refocus a few other parts of your life." She smiled. "What had you decide this?"

"A few things, your comments on your parents, and mine getting older, a few people making comments that they never see me anymore, having the Duchess here and not getting to see her, even if she is in the same house as me, and now with you," he caressed her cheek gently. "I want to put in an effort with you, I want to see can I give you the man you deserve, you deserve someone that is here a lot."

"I love and admire your honesty to say a lot and not always here." Danielle smiled.

"I see Chris and Elsa, Ben and Sophie, so many of my friends in the industry, working hard to juggle both work and family, and I can see it is difficult, but they are happy because though it is not ideal, they still get to have the ones they love and their jobs, which they adore, I want that."

"I will have to go away sometimes too."

"And whenever possible, I will be there with you," He swore.

Danielle laughed. "Is that a promise or a threat?"

"Which do you perceive it as?"

"I am hoping it's a promise." She smiled, kissing him before pulling back as he attempted to deepen it. "Your niece is here, remember."

Tom growled. "I am going to the US this week and I can't ravish you, that is entirely unjust."

"I know, but I am not scarring a five-year-old for life. Could you imagine if she saw us and told your sister?" Tom grunted in response. "Ooh, speaking of your sister's, I need to get back to Emma." Danielle walked over to the counter where she was charging her phone.

"Making plans?"

"I said I would bring Her Duchessness to the zoo tomorrow, but since you are busy, I offered Emma to come instead, she said yes so I need to tell her the time to meet us there."

"That will be lovely," Tom smiled, delighted to hear the two women were making plans together.

"Yeah, it'll be nice, I've never been to London Zoo, so I can't wait."

"I wish I was going."

"I know love, but you are finished at four tomorrow, right?"

"With any luck."

"Movies and pizza?"

"She'll love it."

"She'll be tired after the zoo, it'll be all she will want to do."

Tom smiled lovingly at his girlfriend, "You really should be an aunt, you are great at it."

"Really?" Danielle was sceptical.

"No, you are, that night we had people here, and you were in the kitchen alone with Christopher for a few minutes, you...it all looks so natural to you, children seem to adore you."

"Perhaps it's because I am a kindred spirit, an overgrown child."

"No, you are fun and everything, but you are responsible, you care for their wellbeing, you consider everything they want and need."

"Maybe I should have been a nanny," She joked, but there was something in Tom's eyes that caused her brow to raise. "What?"

"Nothing, just thinking of a few things."

"Dare I ask?"

"I just am so happy that I finally realized how much I love you and love having you here." Danielle looked ar him as though he was being odd. "No, seriously, I nearly lost my chance to be with you, everything with Taylor, if it was you that was having a baby with Paul and not this other girl, it could so easily have been. I...I am just so grateful for whatever bit of luck caused this to happen." He kissed her again.

"I always wanted you to be happy Tom, I thought for so long I wouldn't be the one it would happen with, but I did, but with her, I was...not jealous, well, yes, I was, slightly, I was jealous, I knew I would be of anyone you had found because I felt how I did, but it felt so wrong, you changed, and I mean, everyone changes some bit when they are with someone, but you became so...negative like you were lost."

"I was miserable, she...she ensured I wasn't alone, but I realized very quickly, it is better to be alone than in a crowd of people that make you feel alone." He explained.

"Alone isn't bad, it is lonely that is bad. I like being alone from time to time, but lonely, that one eats at you."

"That's true. Do you wish I would leave you alone?"

"On Thursday, when I decided to go for a walk with Mac for no real reason?" Tom nodded, "That was me wanting 'me' time, I wanted an hour of fresh air to myself."

"You never said anything, I could have left if you wanted."

"Tom, I wanted to go for a walk, outside, just me, and well, might as well bring Mac. I am not kicking you out of the house for anything and should I ever feel so inclined, I will be honest and tell you, not that it will happen."

"Why?"

"I can be like a cat sometimes, want to be around you but not interact, you know?"

Tom chuckled, "I think most people are like that." Danielle's phone gave off a small tone indicating she got a new message, "Well?"

"Noon at the front entrance to the zoo."

"I am actually sort of envious."

"Well, perhaps soon you and I can go with her when this is all out in the open."

"Really?" Tom's voice was filled with hope.

"Yes, I think we should, or something else, the Tower of London, the London Eye, something, anything, but together." Tom kissed her again in delight.

*

"I am serious, she was this close to stealing a penguin," Emma's fingers were mere millimetres from one another as she spoke to Tom, who was chuckling as he leant against the counter with his tea in his hand after his day of work, listening to Danielle, Emma and niece tell him of their adventures.

"That actually happened in Dublin Zoo not too long ago." Danielle pointed out.

"I am so glad you said that now and not four hours ago." Emma's face showed her relief. "So, what are the plans now?"

"This evening will be pizza and movies." Tom beamed, delighted to have gotten home when he had hoped.

"I am not half jealous," Emma commented. "So, ready for the Golden Globes?"

"No, I need to pack," Tom admitted. "I have no idea why I am going, I won't win."

"You don't know that, and bar the weirdness of seeing my brother's bare ass, it was really good, you were really good."

"Could have been worse, you've seen him in far worse situations." Danielle grinned.

"If you mention the tank top," Tom warned.

"I was referencing that scene in Unrelated, but hey, if that's where your head is at." She smirked, Tom, giving her a glare for it, to which, she responded by sticking out her tongue.

"Are you going to the US too?" Danielle turned to look at Emma in shock. "Sorry, I just thought..."

"No, I am staying here, I have no reason to go over and it is just inviting problems." She explained plainly. "It's just a couple of days, and with Mac and the work I want to get done, I am better served here."

"So no red carpets?"

"I have no interest in those things." Danielle declared. "I'd happily never go on one in my life."

"What about if you are up for an award?" Tom asked.

Danielle laughed in response. "What sort of award is there for safety checking? It's one of those jobs most people don't even know exists."

"Doesn't that get a little depressing, though?"

Danielle shrugged, "Probably to a few who define their work in that way, but I find myself more motivated by seeing the end product and getting to sign off on something."

"You'll be forced to go with Tom sooner or later, meaning you will have to be suitably dressed, that will be fun." Emma sniggered, knowing well that to Danielle, that was hell personified.

"I have already had to endure one day of shopping for all that sort of crap, another would kill me."

"Wait, what, you went shopping already?"There was something akin to upset in Emma's tone.

"Yeah, I got dragged by a woman I know to go, she works as a makeup artist so she insisted that my TomBoy ass would know nothing, which is not entirely true, and forced me to go with her."

"In all fairness, you have shown me what you got, they are incredibly beautiful," Tom commented.

"How could you not know, you stood over me as I put them in the closet."

"We needed to make room for them, I needed to clean out what I no longer wear."

"Wait, they're here?" Emma asked.

"Upstairs, in our room," Tom informed her.

Hearing her brother reference the room as 'Ours' was peculiar to Emma, but she said nothing and looked pleadingly at Danielle. "Can I...?"

"You're only asking because you are eyeing up what you can steal. I may be shorter and younger than you, but I know what you are up to!" Danielle laughed, but she moved toward the door, holding it open for Emma to go out first.

The youngest Hiddleston sibling immediately made her way out and up the stairs, knowing well where her brother's master bedroom was, with Danielle behind her, she walked in and found herself looking at the room as she had not before. It smelled slightly less like her brother, a female smell seemed to be present also. As well as that, the bed showed signs it was now occupied by two and not one person, some of Danielle's belongings were on the far bedside locker and a few items of her clothes were in the room. "It's sort of weird." She admitted, looking to Danielle who was studying her.

"I can only imagine."

"I mean, Tom is so private but this is so...it's almost like it has always been like this, that's what so weird." Emma tried to explain.

"I don't know how to respond to that." Danielle shrugged, laughing slightly.

"No, sorry, I am making this weird again." Emma sighed, rubbing her hands over her face. "I just am getting used to it, but making it harder to get over it by bringing it up so much." She inhaled deeply, "Right so, the clothes?"

Half an hour later, and as predicted, two tops commandeered, there was a buzz on the intercom which Tom answered, "I believe my wife is somewhere on the premises?" Came a strong Tyrone accent. Tom chuckled and buzzed in his brother-in-law. "Dare I ask?"

"Danielle went shopping, Emma is stealing."

"Nothing new there so." He chuckled. "Em, want me to leave the car with you, I got called back into work, so I need to head soon," Jack called up the stairs.

"Hi, Uncle Jack." Came a chirpy voice from the hallway above.

"Hello Sweetheart, have a good day?"

"Yep, Emma and Ellie brought me to the zoo and let me get a new teddy and so much nice stuff."

"I am glad to hear it." Jack beamed, "Can you get Emma for me?"

"She is helping Auntie Ellie with something, she said she will be a minute." the youth informed him.

"Thank you, Sweetheart." she darted off again. "Auntie Ellie?"

"It's stuck." Tom shrugged.

"No pressure." Jack chuckled.

"No, none."

"How did...?" Jack indicated up the stairs.

"Can only be good, I've heard them laughing up there, though I am sure that that means I should be concerned."

"Probably should be alright." Jack laughed again. A moment later, his wife came to the top of the stairs. "Wait, Danielle bought that?" He asked, looking and the top his wife was wearing.

"Yep," Emma grinned. "Suits me better."

"Really?" Tom's brow rose.

"Well, that's my excuse." Emma shrugged. "See you later big brother." She hugged him tightly.

"I am glad you had a good day." Tom kissed the side of her head before she pulled back.

"Yeah."

Danielle waved as she descended the stairs and Emma gave her a large smile before walking out the door. "So, what pizza are we ordering, and what film is going on?" Tom asked, looking at his partner and niece, who both came down the stairs excitedly after that.

[eolian-234]

The Supplejack

Previous Chapter Ten: Fast-Forward 

Hi all! Hope you and your loved ones are all staying safe.

This chapter contains violence geared toward animals and a death (off screen) of an animal.

Chapter Eleven: Welcome to Oscorp

Monday

Peter took a deep breath before stepping into the elevator.

He had thought to bring a card or something more lavish like flowers maybe, but the realities of who Friday was came back to him along with a burst of blush. It would have to come down to his words alone, which was the reason his palms were sweating already.

The doors slid shut behind him. He cleared his throat before his customary greeting.

“Hi, Friday.” He said, wincing at a bubble in his throat.

The elevator stayed silent and his stomach fell. Friday had every right to be upset. He’d practically blown them off when he was sick and ignored it in the following days he came to the Tower. Yesterday Peter had even taken the stairs up to the lab. Worse of all was he knew Friday deserved an apology and not ignorance.

They were friends after all.

He rubbed his palms against the seam of his jeans when the silent treatment continued and he took another breath.

“Friday, I wanted to apologize for my tone the other day.” He said staring up at the lights because he always pictured Friday there for some reason. “It was rude and you deserve better than that.”

He paused, waiting for a response but again none came. The doors opened but he stayed where he was for another moment.

“So anyway, I’m so sorry.” He shuffled his feet back and forth and with a drooped head stepped out of the elevator. “Thank you for the ride.”

Peter walked down the hallway cringing at how lame he must have sounded. He knew he should have written it down before or brought something to make it up to Friday.

Mr. Stark was already in the lab when he arrived. It was earlier in the day because his group cancelled saying they would take it easy this week to prepare questions and anything for the tour.

That meant Peter had more time in lab two.

He dropped his stuff down by the door. His backpack folded down in its familiar way and he laid his coat overtop of it.

This routine wasn’t enough to stop him from feeling lopsided.

In his life, Peter had many experiences with apologies. What he didn’t have an experience with as much is an apology to someone he cared about. Peter wielded his apologies like a tightly formed defensive mechanism. It was something he could say to defuse a situation quickly getting out of hand. It was a word, while being earnest, he could say to let the other person know he was listening but not quite expressing himself well. But apologies tangled with regret and hope was something he was less familiar with.

As he walked to the desk Peter thought of the ways Friday would greet him. Their tone of voice was steady and their banal chats would calm any lingering stress from school before he made it to the labs. Friday monitored him right along with Mr. Stark when he was sick. There had been a little email of his full health writeup in his inbox the next morning, complete with temperature updates on the hour. A small ‘feel better’ typed at the bottom of the email.

He swallowed the guilt down.

“What’s up kid?” Mr. Stark said without looking up.

Peter took his seat to the right of Mr. Stark and pretended to read over his notes. His fingers strummed in no particular beat on the desk. He didn’t notice Mr. Stark’s head turned his way.  

“Mr. Stark?” He said after a moment. When he looked up the man was already bent over the desk with eyes full of holograms.

“Hmm? What’s up?”

Peter strummed his fingers again not daring to look up yet. He’d noticed Mr. Stark would do that now. Ask an open-ended question or hum before waiting for a response. It never failed to make Peter uncomfortable. Normally the people Peter interacted with would fill the stretched-out silence. Like some sort of sixth sense they could perceive the tension and would start to talk about anything they thought of. This was ideal for Peter.

But Mr. Stark didn’t do that. The man seemed perfectly at ease in their shared quietness. He didn’t notice when Peter fidgeted in his seat when ten minutes passed. Sometimes Mr. Stark would gently ask Peter again and sometimes he would let the silence ride out.

He wasn’t sure which was worse to be honest.

And he was left disappointed time and again when he couldn’t work up the courage to take the bait. The fear of answering a question he wasn’t sure had a right answer was just too much.

The silence drew onward, crushing Peter after his latest failure to Friday.

He heard Mr. Stark sigh. It was so quiet he wasn’t sure if it was real or imagined but heat bloomed across his cheeks and the palm resting on the desk left an imprint of condensation when he clenched them in his lap.

“You hungry, Peter?” Mr. Stark said after some time had passed.

“Um, it’s okay, Mr. Stark. No worries.”

Food was the last thing on his mind and now he was thinking about it his stomach had been off since he was sick, but Mr. Stark went ahead with the food.

“J.O.C.A.S.T.A. can you order some burritos for us? Four vegetarian, one tostada, and then two of their flans, please?”

A smooth voice responded over the speakers.

“Sure thing, Boss.”

Peter’s hands stilled at the voice. The one that was definitely not Friday.

“What… Where’s Friday?” He said, gripping the edge of the table.

Mr. Stark turned his head to look at Peter, surprise evident in his widened eyes.  

“Friday is just going through some updates, Kid.” Peter grimaced. “It’s standard protocol. We’re making sure everything in Friday’s hardware is up to date.”

The breath left his chest and a laugh bubbled out of his chest thinking about how ridiculous he was. Mr. Stark turned further toward Peter and raised his eyebrows.

“I just… I was talking and...” Peter breathed in and burst out giggling again not even stopping when Mr. Stark’s hand clapped on his shoulder.

When he could stop enough to explain what happened, it was the first time he’d ever heard Mr. Stark really laugh.

-

The next time Peter spoke to Friday was reading from a text message he sent to himself. There was no way he was going to chance it and mess up again.

Friday forgave him without hesitation. After telling Friday, “I missed you,” he ran out of the elevator before slumping against the wall and smiling up to the ceiling.

Tuesday

Peter ran into the lab just in time. He braced his hands on his knees working to keep his breath even before entering the door.  Making sure it sounded normal though all he wanted to do was suck all the oxygen up in the room.

Without looking up he set his backpack down, watching it fold against the wall and then put his coat over it. He expected to see Mr. Stark already working like he normally was.

Instead, lab two was empty.

Peter sat in his normal chair, notebooks lined on the desk, waiting for Mr. Stark. He scribbled out some new ideas and started on homework.

Lost in the midst of Shakespeare and the mischievous Puck, Peter failed to notice the darkening sky. With one last glance around the lab Peter packed up his stuff, lingering in the doorway. Friday wasn’t sure where the man was either and his hesitation grew.

Should he wait or go?

“I’ll let you know once he arrives, Peter.” Friday said. “It’s dusk now. You should go home.”


He left a single piece of paper on the desk with wrinkled with a hasty message.  

Peter sat, restless and denied of sleep on his fire escape, listening to the sounds of the city. It was past the witching hour when his phone lit up with a notification.

Wednesday

The end of the day brought the arrival of a resurgence of weariness in his bones. Careful to follow the bends in the path Peter made his way home.  He stepped around a sunken pothole where the cement was torn up, scattered into the street, and began walking on a dirt path. The dirt was well-worn and he imagined, if he looked hard enough, there were small footsteps etched into the path from the children who would run and play there in the summer.

As he entered the small apartment the sounds of his aunt puttering around the kitchen flooded him along with the smells of her famous spaghetti.

“Hi May,” he called from the entryway lining his shoes with the others in the hallway. She yelled back and Peter smiled when he heard a crash of dishes followed by gruntled rumbling from May.

The foreign feeling of his stomach growling led him into the kitchen. He hugged May and grabbed the bowls from the counters, setting them on the table. With their plates loaded, May began talking about work and with little prompting went on to bash her boss.

“And how was your week, sweetheart?” She asked, wiping a trail of sauce down her chin.

“Oh, you know… the usual.” Peter twisted his own spool of noodles before answering.

“Okay.” She said not giving up. “Give me one good thing that happened with Ned.”

“I ate lunch with them the other day. Mike asked me what Harry Potter I thought was the best.”

“Your answer?” she said already knowing.

“Book or movie?” They said together and Peter smiled at his aunt.

“What’s one good thing that happened at the internship?”

This one he knew without thought.

“Frank lost a bet with Julia so now he has to wear pajamas to all our meetings, also his meetings with Lee, and not say anything.” May giggled and proclaimed she had to get to know Julia.

“And what’s one good thing that happened in the other project?”

“May...” he whined but all she did was repeat the question.

“I-” He thought about the warped memory. The one where Mr. Stark was checking his temperature. He thought about all the number of things he could say but he simply went with: “Mr. Stark told me good job last week” and left it at that ignoring the way the back of his throat seized up.

After dinner they sat on the couch watching reality TV. May was obsessed with the housewives and Peter was happy to cuddle next to her until he fell asleep.

The apartment felt like home for the first time in a while.

Thursday

Peter entered the lab, dropping his backpack in its spot. A sigh of relief escaped him before he could stifle it.

There was Mr. Stark sitting at the desk. Back from wherever he had been.

He was talking on the phone and hadn’t noticed Peter’s arrival. He stretched his legs under the table and tried not to eavesdrop.

“Jesus Rhodes… I couldn’t stop hearing his voice if I tried. The man can literally not stop talking… Yeah, look I’m on it but I don’t trust a single particle of oxygen around the guy.”

He looked toward Peter who gave him a small wave and returned to his notes to continue giving the air of privacy.

“Look, I’ve got to go. No, it’s not a lady. Yes, I won’t promise not to look into Ross.” Peter could hear yelling on the other end of the phone and smiled. Mr. Stark said goodbye and ended the conversation with a flick of the wrist.

Mr. Stark smiled at Peter, setting his phone down on the desk. Peter couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under his eyes or the shadowed lines tightening around his mouth.

“Hey, Kid. Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. I was early and all. Friday wasn’t very talkative, not that I was either but I was out of school early and I didn’t mean to listen in and …”

Mr. Stark chuckled. “It’s alright, Kid. There’s nothing to worry about.”  

They set to work but Peter couldn’t help notice the tense set of his shoulders. A slab of copper hit the desk and Mr. Stark twisted toward him.

“Kid, I hate to do this. Really, I do. But,” he ran a hand through his hair. “The call wasn’t about nothing and I need to do some research for it. I know it’s bad timing today and we have this time…” Now it was Peter’s turn to reassure Mr. Stark.

“Ah, I get it. No worries I can just,” he motioned to his backpack but Mr. Stark held up his hands.

“Stay here and work if you want. This lab is yours as much mine.”


Peter swallowed as Mr. Stark left lab two. His commanding voice already resonating through the hallway as he talked into his phone. Peter’s fingers were clenched shut and he hastily uncurled them under the table. A gnawing empty space hollowed out in his chest but with a quick shake of his head, making sure to file the name Ross away, Peter got back to work.  

Friday

Peter stretched his arms over his head flattening his palms on the wall. They shook with the weakness that comes in the wake of sleep and a lazy yawn overcame him, urging him to go back to sleep.

Knowing that wasn’t an option he opted to turn toward the window before his second alarm went off. His bed was at just the right angle he could see out past his fire escape and at the buildings across the way. While his window mate hardly opened the blinds, something he was grateful for, the small family above them hardly shut them. Peter could make out the plants growing up the balcony bars towards the sun. He unpeeled his hands from the wall and without moving more than he had to inched the window open. Their radio leeched into the room and Peter hummed along while he ran through the list of everything to do today.  

There was English reading to be done- most likely on the subway to school. Right before lunch period they were set to leave school and take the subway to the groups meeting spot. May called ahead last night to let the school know he was leaving early. Mr. Washington practically invited Peter to take the week off if he needed it to work on the internship which had May laughing. Then they would go to Oscorp, the butterflies in his stomach flared up at the thought, and back to the Tower to work with Mr. Stark.

He groaned into the pillow. It would be a busy day and all he wanted to do was sleep.

Four alarms and twenty minutes later Peter was running with toast in hand to catch the subway. A copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream tucked under his arm.

He wasn’t sure if his leg had stopped bouncing all day. He was certain that Mrs. Brzozowski’s face was going to be stuck in an exasperated scowl if he were to remain in her class for a second longer.

With blessedly good timing, something rare for high school, lunch came before Peter knew it. Ned knew all about his fieldtrip so Peter made his way to the steps outside, scanning the students for Flash.

It wasn’t strictly necessary for him to come along with their group, but Flash insisted. Peter secretly thought Flash wanted to skive out of the chemistry exam today. No one during the group meeting put any objections up and he had been the one to get them the passes so it was decided.

He leaned against one of the pillars outside of school. Peter wasn’t sure how a pair of shoes could be so white but he’d heard some other freshman talking enviously about them earlier. Peter tapped his finger against his jeans before walking forward. 


“Hey,” he said pulling the straps on his backpack tighter.

“Parker, you ready?”

After the third time asking if Flash had the passes the boy shoved them into his hand.

“You keep track of them then, why don’t you.”

Peter thumbed through them, cataloging the different receipts and put them in his backpack for safekeeping.

He missed the look Flash sent over as his leg continued to bounce up and down and therefore was startled with he began talking about his own team’s project. The subway provided a numbing white sound and Peter fell into the easy role of listener, giving small utterances and, when desperate enough to keep Flash talking, asking questions.

“We’re in the final stage of editing now and the presentation’s almost done but Olivia is still freaking out.”

“Over what?” Peter asked.

“Hell, if I know. Wait until you see it, though. Our project is good.” He said. At the beginning of the year without hesitation Peter would have thought it was an arrogant response. Maybe it still was but all Peter did was smile and feel a sliver of pride for them.

This continued in a similar vein as they walked up the stairs and onto the sidewalk. They weaved through the sidewalks, eager to get away from the crowds until Peter spotted Frank.

He tugged on Flash’s sleeve and the two of them made their way over to his fortunately tall group member.

“What’s up guys?” Frank’s loud voice carried over the crowds. As they got closer Peter could make out Julia standing next to him. Monica met up with them farther down the street in front of a coffee shop.

Peter hung back, watching the mismatched group journey toward their destination. It was crowded, even for New York, and Frank took the lead. His height and the intimidating set of his browbone warded their path clear. He hid a smile with his sleeve when Frank, in mock deference, bowed to their group as they turned a corner.

The peace wouldn’t last for long. Peter heard Monica and Frank debating about who should be the spokesperson for the tour. Each argued their own merits and Peter could see the beginnings of sparks flying out of their ears when Julia stepped away from where she had been talking to Flash and told them it was Monica’s job because she was technically head of the group. She was also dressed the nicest out of all of them.

With an air of dignity, she pushed her chin up at Frank who didn’t really seem to get why that mattered. Peter did think her maturity a little dashed when she stuck her tongue out at Frank when she thought no one was looking.

Peter looked down at his own pants, bordering too short and the sweatshirt he wore almost every day. Maybe he should have dressed better.

The last corner passed without incident and Peter’s eyes were drawn to the skyscraper in front of them.

Glass windows plunged up into the clouds looking like they continued on into the heavens

If Peter once thought Stark Tower was an extension of heaven, gracing earth with its intricate and seamless structure, then this building in front of him was entirely the opposite. It was like a scorched earth; the hardened molten material of its core was penetrating into the sky. Its black panels tore through the clouds, forcing your eyes on it. Large, bold letters tinted with green glowed at the top, watching.

Oscorp.

He shivered.

“Peter?” Julia called from ahead. He hurried to catch up, each step bringing him under the shadow of the building. It was ironic, he thought, the steps would lead down to the entrance, not up.

Standing away from the line of people waiting, Peter bent down and grabbed the papers out of his backpack before handing them to Flash. Their group watched as he talked to the receptionist. He returned with badges labeled guest.

“We have to wait here for our guide and we’re all set to go.”

Flash began to point out various awards hanging around the lobby stopping when a bored looking woman came up to them.

“Team Stark?” She said raising her eyebrow at their group nickname. Monica nodded and stepped forward to shake the woman’s hand.

“My name is Estee and I’m one of the junior research members here at Oscorp. Mr. Thompson was kind enough to orchestrate this for you today. I hear you’re interested in the anaerobic turbine? We will go see that amount other facilities today. Follow me.” She said this with an efficiency of someone always five minutes late. They looked at each other and then followed behind.

“And this is where we test all the equipment contracted out to NASA among other companies.” She pointed to a large dome like room in the center of the building. The elevator they took was on the outer wall, but it was too difficult see out the dark glass.

“No way.” Monica replied with an uncharacteristic amount of enthusiasm. “You came up with the nanotube trenches technique?”

“I didn’t but, yes, Oscorp had a hand in it.”

“Those copper filings between the trenches are used all the time now in their equipment and spacesuits.”

They all looked at her and she shrugged murmuring something about being interested in space. Estee smiled for the first time since meeting her and they continued to talk about the different thermodynamic technologies utilized today. As they continued the tour Peter noticed her voice was quiet enough only Monica could hear.

“Aren’t they cozy?” Flash said and Peter elbowed him.

Their model was next and they were all interested in the introduction of chemicals to up the rate of decomposition while still keeping the end product viable.

“This anaerobic design catches the methane produced which can be further used for heating and electrical generation.” Estee told them and promised to send the analytics and design to them later.

Peter and Flash stayed behind to take a look at how the compost was loaded into the device. Flash drummed his fingers along the railing, complaining to Peter he had “already seen everything in this place” while Peter took notes. For the sixth time Flash glanced at his watch mumbling that now school was officially over he should duck out and go home. Peter didn’t respond.

The back of his neck prickled and he heard Frank ask: “Hey, what’s in there?”  

They all looked over to see a restricted personal sign. She sighed, first making it clear how many times the question came up in tours and then explaining it was where they did confidential lab exercises usually not open to the public.

It was normal for a facility like this to have a space like that. Peter had seen one at the Tower but that didn’t stop his curiously from being peaked. He wasn’t the only one. They all looked at each other in agreement. Monica, in a rare display of deception, stepped closer to Estee.

“Do you get to work in there?” She asked Estee, her eyes trained on their tour guide.

“Yes, all personal above a certain security are encouraged to do their research there.”

Monica stepped forward a hair into Estee’s space and Peter watched as a wisp watercolor blush stole across both of their cheeks.

“That’s so cool. I would - we would - love to see what you’re working on. If that’s possible.”

Estee regarded them each then returned her eyes to their leader. There was doubt in the furrow between her eyes but after a moment – breaths held in their collective group – she motioned them forward.

Even Flash perked up as they walked toward the red signs. The door locks clicked open and they were in.

“Follow me.” Estee instructed with Monica on her heels, followed by Frank. The rest of them tagging behind at a slower pace trying to take everything in.

“Have you ever been back here?” Peter asked Flash, eyes not moving from all the people.

“Nah, my dad would never let me back here. Look at that thing,” he said pointing to something that looked like a laser. “It’s dangerous and so cool.”

His eyes hovered around its red tip imagining all the destruction it would do when glowing hot.

Someone on the lower level caught his attention.

There, in all the chaos of science, was Seymour. Flash and Julia stopped next to him where he halted and followed his gaze.

“Shit.” Flash said when Seymour looked up from his computer.

He smiled at them slowly and Peter’s stomach clenched thinking of how that same smile appeared when they saw each other at the internship finals. The phantom pain of a blow to his back tingled on his spine. Flash stood frowning next to him. Peter wondered if they were still friends.

“Who is that?” Julia whispered.

Spurred on by her comment, Flash tapped their arms and turned them the other way, aware Seymour had left his station to follow them.

Their group came to a reluctant halt at the sound of their names.

“Look who it is. Did you have to beg Daddy to get you in here Flash?”

The trio turned around to look at the intruder. His chest was pushed forward, Oscorp badge gleaming in the light. Flash smiled wide and like he’d been doing it forever relaxed into a confident stance, legs apart and arms to the side. Peter thought he saw a flare of uncertainty in his eyes but it was gone.

“Seymour,” he said. “You work here man?”

Peter was suddenly aware of the thrumming in his veins. Without thinking his eyes went to Flash. His tone was friendly enough but there was something weary, maybe the way he stepped slightly forward in front of them, in the interaction. He’d never asked Flash what happened in the fallout over the winners of the internship only observing during his lunch days with Ned that Flash hadn’t been so chummy with Seymour after. At the time it seemed like none of his business. Now it did. Sorry wouldn’t help in this situation.

“What else would I be doing here? Touring?” He said heavy with sarcasm.

“Look, we’ve got to go.”

Before Peter could breathe Seymour stepped into Flash’s space. He wound an arm around his shoulder, staring at Peter the whole time.

From a stranger’s perspective it would be easy to image an alternative perception of this whole encounter. Catching your schoolmates’ eyes across the room before rushing over and greeting them with a smile. Simple.

“I insist on showing you guys around. After all, it’s technically because of you I’m here. Right, Flash?”

Not so simple to get away though. Flash strained against the arm around his shoulder and stepped away. There was a tightening around Seymour’s mouth but he said nothing.

“It was fair and square and you know that. I tried explaining that to you.”

Seymour grimaced. They moved into an area less densely populated. No one from their group, not even Estee, was in sight.

“That’s what you said anyway.” Seymour ripped his badge from his jacket and swiped it. This time Peter held no curiosity about what was kept beyond the door.  He stepped closer to Julia.

Their footsteps rang alone in the hallway, closed labs framing them in on either side.

“I’ll think you’ll like what’s in here.” Seymour said giving Peter a wink.

The door closed behind them, sinking them further away from their team.  He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing and the overwhelming sound of his heart.

On the wall across from them glowed a still image of a rabbit. Seymour must have turned on live footage because it started moving around the cage, nosing the hay and feed scattered about the cage.

Two arms reached into its space, the doors they emerged from snapping shut leaving no room to escape. The whirling mechanisms were open to see under a clear layer of protection, some type of pliant plastic Peter guessed. The rabbit stopped, nose twitching as it watched the arms move in closer. With a snap, the arms seized the rabbit up, holding it in place despite the thrashing and scared noises playing over the audio in the room.

Peter saw Flash take a step back out of the corner of his eye.

The camera filming moved to zoom in on the other side of the animal. Peter’s face paled. The new angle revealed an open wound on its side. Dried patches of brown and glistening red covered the fur and hind foot. He could see the patches of it staining the bottom of the cage and moved to look at his feet. For a moment, Peter swore similar patches were in the concrete where he was standing.  

“Watch this,” Seymour said without taking his eyes off the projection.

Another arm entered the frame carrying a small clear vial. The rabbit twitched uttering another squeal when the arm tipped the vial over and a transparent liquid rushed onto the wound. It sunk into it and created a pinkish layer of congealed mucous. Then it started moving. Before their eyes the wound began to close up. Another projection started underneath showing a microscopic look at what was happening.

It was a process he knew all too well.

The rabbit shook, trying to pull away from the arms. Its small squeals echoing around the room. Small tears formed in the gelatinous mesh concealing the blood from view. It increasingly fractured the more the animal fought, scarring into the center of it. After no more than five minters, though it felt like forever, the tear connected in the middle and dripped off, leaving a larger, more enflamed wound than before.  

The arms tightened around the rabbit and before they could utter any protests the hologram shut off. The audio did not and after a heart wrenching there was a dull thud.

Someone started talking, gloating over their protests at them – at Peter, but there was a film blocking his thoughts. He could not move, only stare at the grey wall. Someone grabbed his arm. Flash, he thought. Then a soft face was standing before him, whispering to him and holding one of his hands.

Sounds and smell and feeling come roaring back. He remembered the feeling of going on a water slide when he was young. The plastic tubes blocked out the sounds of the water park leaving you falling with nothing but your own thoughts and the water. At the last moment, when he thought everything was helpless, the water came rushing out into the pool right before the tube emerged into the world again.

Julia let go of his hand but stayed next to him. Flash continued to look between him and Seymour.

He should have stayed in bed today.

“Well, Parker. Congratulate me. Mr. Osborn took one look at it and let me come work here after school.”

Julia spoke up though her face was pale.  “I don’t know who you are but this is stolen property”

He really should have stayed home. The rabbit would have been alive then. None of them would have had to seen that.

“Who says?” Seymour’s smile never faded.

Flash had never seen Peter’s presentation and his face was lined with confusion.

“That’s…. Its mine.” Peter spoke, eyes blazing at the boy in front of him.

Seymour scoffed.

“I don’t think so. It’s here in Oscorp. That makes it their property.”

His nails bit into the skin of his palm while his mind racked itself for an answer to the unasked question. After months of hard work; of guilt fueling sleepless nights and unending days it was somehow in another’s grasp. Someone who hated him. Someone who had mocked him all year. Peter couldn’t even comprehend how it was being tested.

“He created this,” Julia spoke stepping in front of Peter. “That’s what he used get into Stark’s internship.” She paused again before continuing though Peter wished she would stop.  “But you know that, don’t you? Because you were rejected for bribery.”

It was the first time in all their interactions Peter could say a genuine emotion showed on Seymour’s face. He took a step toward Julia, mouth squeezed into a tight line. Peter’s hands reached forward to grab onto her and pull her back if necessary.

“Why you little bitch…” he said, stalking closer and then the doors opened tearing down the waterslide tube they were all stuck in and left them exposed to the outer world once again.

They all froze. Peter’s hand gripping Julia’s backpack, Flash stood to the side looking at Seymour with wide eyes, and Julia, proud with her chin up and standing tall. Seymour moved first, stepping back with a lazy smile.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Osborn.” He said gazing at the door.  

Peter couldn’t recall much of the newcomer’s appearance besides the eerie similarities he had to the very building they were in. He was tall, all sharp angles, shadowing all the deep contours in his face and neck. And his smile. His smile curled at the edges. The only soft thing on the man’s face.

“Hello, Seymour. Glad you are showing our guests your project.” The man brought his phone up and scrolled through it not taking mentioning the strange circumstances he found them in. “We’ve got Julia Lang, Flash Thompson, your father is an excellent employee, and Peter Parker.”

He glanced up and smiled largely, leaving them with no question of who was in charge. Peter stared at the ground but he could feel eyes lingering on him.

“Welcome to Oscorp.”

Hope you enjoyed!! Here is the link to the NASA page I used for reference. 

Taglist: @verdonafrost @whatisthou @demi-starzak

Next Chapter Twelve: The End

[evanfleischer]

Truth, like love and sleep, resents Approaches that are too intense. —  W.H. Auden, “New Year Letter”

Walter Benjamin spoke of an “angel of history” in his unpublished-at-the-time essay, “On The Concept Of History,” writing that  — 

His [that is, the angel’s face] face is turned toward the past. Where we perceive a chain of events, he sees one single catastrophe which keeps piling wreckage and hurls it in front of his feet. The angel would like to stay, awaken the dead, and make whole what has been smashed. But a storm is blowing in from Paradise; it has got caught in his wings with such a violence that the angel can no longer close them. The storm irresistibly propels him into the future to which his back is turned, while the pile of debris before him grows skyward. This storm is what we call progress.

Benjamin’s definition of ‘the angel of history’ enables us to look a little bit more closely at the function of the symbol and the idea of ‘an angel of history’ in The Rings of Saturn by W.G. Sebald. It’s also in discussing both Walter Benjamin’s angel and The Rings of Saturn that we can discuss Wings of Desire and take note of how the three engage with the other.

There are literal connections and all but literal connections that can be drawn between the three texts: in the library scene in Wings of Desire, per the screenplay, one reader studies Paul Klee’s “Angelus Novus,” which is referenced by Walter Benjamin in relation to “the angel of history” (and which prompts the above-quoted paragraph), which itself serves as a point of intellectual reference in The Rings of Saturn.

Thinking involves not only the flow of thoughts, but their arrest as well. Where thinking suddenly stops in a configuration pregnant with tensions, it gives that configuration a shock, by which it crystalizes into a monad. A historical materialist approaches a historical subject only where he encounters it as a monad. In this structure he recognizes the sign of a Messianic cessation of happening, or, put differently, a revolutionary chance in the fight for the oppressed past. He takes cognizance of it in order to blast a specific era out of the homogenous course of history  —  blasting a specific life out of the era or a specific work out of the lifework. As a result of this method the lifework is preserved in this work and at the same time canceled (orig.: aufheben) … The nourishing fruit of the historically understood contains time as a precious but tasteless seed.

The Rings Of Saturn is manifestly aware of an oppressed past and the notion of “blast[ing] a specific era out of the homogenous course of history.” The text is aware of how frequently it looks upon a “wreckage,” so aware that the voice of the text frequently slides upward into a register filled with hauntings — but not just Gothic-styled hauntings pegged to a specific object, i.e., a single ghost haunting a single house because of a single terrible act committed one generational leap back into the past.

Sebald pursues a different path: when the reader ascends to a certain level in the text when one might feel a more ‘direct’ encounter with a ‘ghost,’ i.e., that space between a pile of herring and the bodies of those murdered in the Holocaust as defined by the implicit metaphor, we also share an intellectual space with thinking over of what generational trauma means while also operating in the middle of an encounter with ‘place.’ (The narrator can be expected to only accomplish so much, being human, after all.) The book has names for the things that have produced that “wreckage” — imperialism, colonialism, capitalism, and fascism; and the book traces their evolution well — but merely indicting a large ‘-ism’ isn’t where the mission of The Rings Of Saturn begins or ends. Sebald the narrator seeks out a saint in Nuremberg. An angel seeks to become human in Berlin. Each are on an analogous path and make use of similar tools. In a small essay called “Why Do You Make Films?” written in 1987, Wim Wenders remarked that “The camera is a weapon against the tragedy of things, against their disappearing.” Sebald himself was quoted in an interview flagged by the podcast Backlisted as saying that “The photograph is meant to get lost somewhere in an attic — a nomadic thing that has a small chance only to survive,” making their survival — and the act of ensuring their survival — all the more striking.  And, more often than not, both Sebald and the angel seek to commune with nominally empty spaces.

To explain what occupies this emptiness requires us to talk for a moment about what we mean when we use words like trauma, collective trauma, and generational trauma.

With all three, there’s a rough feeling that lingers with us where we can say that we know it when we see it, feel it, or hear about it. We know it when we keep friends safe in the middle of the night, telling them over the phone to breathe in and breathe out. We know it when we hear a blues song scratchily emanating from the side of an open and otherwise quiet car mechanic’s garage late at night. We know it when we read a book like The Body Keeps The Score and we know it when we watch a television show like Watchmen.

Now, there’s a DSM-5 definition we can break out — which talks about “actual or threatened death, serious injury, or sexual violence” — but that doesn’t incorporate a thousand other things that are part of the landscape of trauma. There is also a certain level of complexity in tracing generational trauma from one generation to the next at the level of biology. As of 2018 — insofar as this writer can make out — no studies exist that follow the trauma a mother might have before she conceives a child, how that trauma changes the genetic make-up of an oocyte (a cell in the ovary that changes to form an ovum), and how that link between the trauma established before conception and the trauma felt by the child is established after the child has been born.

That difficulty doesn’t mean the investigation into generational trauma is illegitimate. In 1966, Vivian M. Rakoff, a Canadian psychologist, described the children of parents who survived the Holocaust as suffering more acute psychological symptoms than their parents. In the 1990’s, as Rachel Yahuda and Amy Lehrner note in World Psychiatry, as technology developed, time passed, and more investigations were made — 

… offspring of Holocaust survivors were more likely to show HPA axis alterations associated with PTSD, such as lower cortisol levels and enhanced GR responsiveness … Subsequent investigations documented that maternal and paternal PTSD were associated with different biological outcomes. A post‐hoc analysis of cortisol circadian rhythm data indicated that lower cortisol levels in adult Holocaust offspring were associated with maternal, but not paternal, PTSD.

The HPA axis refers to the connection between the hypothalamus, the pituitary gland, and adrenal glands. GR responsiveness refers to glucocorticoid receptors, which are found throughout the body and play a role in regulating the genes that control development, metabolism, and immune response.

Looking at these results suggests that it wouldn’t be entirely unreasonable to offer up the reductive assertion that lower cortisol levels and enhanced GR responsiveness means that someone is both hyper-sensitive and might not feel the stress that the body should otherwise feel if it were in a ‘flight or ‘fight,’ trauma-inducing situation. In other words: the children exhibit the symptoms of the traumatized.

There is much more detail at hand here — studies involving GR gene methylation that parallel but don’t explicitly show genetic transmission of trauma, mothers with PTSD who experienced September 11th rating their children as having higher anxiety in the morning than mothers without PTSD, animals exposed to “chronic stress in utero [that led to] increased male, but not female, HPA stress reactivity,” and ‘secondary traumatization’ — but we should zoom the camera lens out to flag the fact that trauma simply makes itself manifest in the day-to-day lives of individuals in a variety of ways. In Bassel Van Der Kolk’s book, The Body Keeps The Score, the doctor describes patients who “felt emotionally distant from everybody, as though [their] heart were frozen and [the individual in question was] living behind a glass wall,” as well as other patients who were “suffering from memories,” and notes that “I [the author] could not be [the doctor of a traumatized group] unless they made me one of them.”

This characterization brings us back to the idea of the lead characters in The Rings Of Saturn and Wings Of Desire encountering nominally empty spaces. At Somerleyton Hall in The Rings Of Saturn, the narrator thinks of how “fine a place the house seemed to me now that it was imperceptibly nearing the brink of dissolution and silent oblivion,” a house where “there are … moments, as one passes through the rooms open to the public … when one is not quite sure whether one is in a country house in Suffolk or some kind of no-man’s-land, on the shores of the Arctic Ocean or in the heart of the dark continent.”

The house is only ‘nominally’ empty because of the action implied by the phrases of “the Arctic Ocean” and “in the heart of the dark continent.” Open up the door of the latter phrase and voices will come rushing through. The alexithymia of trauma located in more than one place — in both the house and the ‘dark continent’ — will find a voice — of exploitation, cruelty, and worse. (Later on, the narrator goes so far as to suggest that the colonial violence of the Belgians in the past makes it manifest in physical deformations in the near-present.)

Consider two scenes in Wings Of Desire. The first is the montage that shows us a glimpse of what happened to Berlin in the war: the camera passes by a destitute man, a domestic argument, and a child screaming for his mother in the street before we transition to the sounds of a bomb siren, see for ourselves the bombs flash bulb across the sky of the city, the shadow of planes and white-yellow search lights, and buildings on fire. Or, as the English writer Thomas Browne puts it in one section of The Rings Of Saturn —

The shadow of night is drawn like a black veil across the earth, and since almost all creatures, from one meridian to the next, lie down after the sun has set, so … one might, in following the setting sun, see on our globe nothing but prone bodies, row upon row, as if levelled by the scythe of Saturn — an endless graveyard for a humanity struck by falling sickness.

The second scene is Peter Falk standing outside a small snack bar in the middle of a muddied expanse. He talks to Bruno Ganz, the angel, and — even though the angel says nothing — they share a moment.

I can’t see you, but I know you’re here. I feel it. You’ve been hanging around since I got here. I wish I could see your face. Just look into your eyes and tell you how good it is to be here. Just to touch something. See, that’s cold. That feels good. Or, here … To smoke. Have coffee. And, if you do it together, it’s fantastic. Or … to draw. You know, you take a pencil, and you make a dark line … then you make a light line. And, together, it’s a good line. Or when your hands are cold — you rub ’em together. You see, that’s good. That feels good. There’s so many good things. But you’re not here. I’m here. I wish you were here. I wish you could talk to me, because I’m a friend. Compañero.

It is agonizingly tempting to liken Falk’s voice here to Sebald’s voice in a one-to-one ratio, even in spite of the fairly central role ‘wreckage’ and melancholy play in The Rings Of Saturn, especially if one were to factor in the consistently sumptuous turns of Sebald’s language, i.e., how the scratchy sounds of a transistor radio playing on a beach are “as if the pebbles being dragged back by the waves were talking to each other”; how — instead of a child — one couple in The Hague has an “apricot-colored poodle”; and how — “every now and then” at the Schiphol airport — “the announcers’ voices, disembodied and intoning their messages like angels, would call someone’s name.” But just before that scene in the film, Falk is seen wandering through a muddied expanse of earth. “Walking and seeing,” he says in voice over. He turns and looks off in the distance to his right (and the lingering background of the shot.) “That must be the station — not the one where the trains stop, but the station where the station stops.”

“The station where the station stops” is a roundabout way of talking about “the zero hour,” the end of history, or the “inclusion of all exclusions,” which is how the German sociologist Niklas Luhmann once described the apocalypse. Falk goes from contemplating the “inclusion of all exclusions” — an enormous collective trauma collectively felt — to talking about simple things with a spirit he can’t see, a spirit who doesn’t feel like it’s part of humanity and wants to be a part of humanity. And Falk wants that spirit there.

Sebald’s narrator has a role in reaching out to the spirits. The angel has a role in reaching out to humanity. Each are working to build a narrative bridge over which those impacted by collective trauma and generational trauma can pass into the story of the present. The aforementioned individuals who felt “emotionally distant from everybody, as though [their] heart[s] were frozen and [they] were living behind a glass wall” might now have a better idea of the path they need to take to unfreeze the heart and come from behind said glass wall. (Or, as it was put in HBO’s Watchmen: “Wounds need air.”) Neither narrator in either text can accomplish the project of building this bridge without the other, as is evidenced by the fact that The Rings Of Saturn all but ends amongst a reconstructed Temple of Jerusalem — an appeal to the judgement of eternity — and Wings Of Desire ends with the angel becoming human and falling in love.

There are a few complications that linger along our path: on one level, Sebald’s narrator doesn’t really ‘do’ much of anything. He walks around, has some associative thoughts, and eventually ends up in the hospital. The same judgement could be passed on the angel: he drifts, becomes human, and — for his troubles — ends up with a colorful coat.

But that reading ignores the role of what it means to be a witness.

“A witness is needed in order for the particular narrative to rise from the inundation of universal sound,” Xavier Vila and Alice Kuzniar wrote of ‘the library scene’ in Wings of Desire in the 1992 Spring issue of Film Criticism, and witnesses abound in both Wings of Desire and The Rings of Saturn. Roger Casement is witnessed on television. The gaze of the painter is witnessed in The Anatomy Lesson. The pathway of a Nazi who becomes the head of the United Nations is witnessed from one era to the next. The descendants of the colonialists — as well as what they took — are witnessed. In looking at a bridge crossing the river Blyth, the narrator also performs an act of witness concerning the growth of capitalism and empire in China.

It is this repeated act of witness that lends a shape of characterization to the seemingly unobserved, un-filled-in narrator. In observing this, we observe a man who is quiet, decent, and thoughtful. We observe a man who knows what it means to genuinely ‘live in the moment.’ We observe his silence in the same fashion that the narrator and housekeeper observe the silence of Major George Wyndham Le-Strange after the latter was one of the ones who liberated Belsen.

By contrast, the angels in Wings Of Desire observe things in an earthward direction, i.e., someone reading in a library — or someone dying as the result of a motorcycle accident  and seeing their life flash before their eyes — 

Albert Camus. The morning light. The child’s eyes. The swim in the waterfall. The spots of the first drops of rain. The sun. The bread and wine. Hopping. Easter. The veins of leaves. The blowing grass. The color of stones. The pebbles on the stream’s bed. The white tablecloth outdoors. The dream of the house in the house. The dear one asleep in the next room. The peaceful Sundays. The horizon. The light from the room in the garden. The night flight. Riding a bicycle with no hands. The beautiful stranger. My father. My mother. My wife. My child.

In each case, we see a deepening of the role of the angel of history as described by Benjamin in his essay. It isn’t just that the angel witnesses the wreckage; it’s that the angel has emotions about the wreckage it wants to share with us. It isn’t just that the storm propels the angel into the future; it’s that the angel has an opinion as to how that wreckage should have conducted itself. The angel of history isn’t about the truth or falsity of history; it’s about who is acknowledged and what it means to share care and concern for those initially lost to history.

The other complication to the arc of this argument is that solely ascribing an interest in the traumatized ‘lessens’ the work of either text — that it strips them of the necessary ineffable mysteriousness that makes art ‘art.’

If that were to hold true — if we were to push our concern with trauma to the side — it still wouldn’t get rid of the fact that there is an emotion we can ascribe to the wreckage of history as described in The Rings Of Saturn. You can’t look at the very end of the book — wherein Sebald notes the death of his father-in-law — and not feel an emotion — that, over the course of history, when a ‘lady of the upper classes’ suffered a grief — which the reader could reasonably read as barely concealed code for ‘a very important woman’ — this is how history would respond (ergo, how we could respond), with …

… heavy robes of black silk taffeta or black crêpe de chine … black Mantua silk of which the Norwich silk weavers … had created … to rape black mourning ribbons over all the mirrors and all canvasses depicting landscapes or people or the fruits of the field …

 — but the text doesn’t just stop with the emotion. It begins to move and slides upward to note that these arrangements were done so that  — 

… the soul, as it left the body, would not be distracted on its final journey, either by a reflection of itself or by a last glimpse of the land now being lost forever.  

In other words: amidst the wreckage of empire and silk, as you cross from a story about Queen Victoria to fictitious words falsely attributed to Thomas Browne, we realize that a bridge has been built for a dear one close to the narrator’s heart. In fact, all of this is done in the name of building a bridge: the angel bearing witness to the words of a dying motorcyclist in Wings of Desire; Peter Falk (as an ex-angel) bearing witness to an empty space on his way to get a cup of coffee; Sebald’s narrator bearing witness to an empty house or to fishermen on the beach who looked

… as if the last stragglers of some nomadic people had settled there, at the outermost limit of the earth, in expectation of the miracle longed for since time immemorial, the miracle which would justify all their erstwhile privations and wanderings.

The late David Foster Wallace once characterized true heroism as “minutes, hours, weeks, year upon year of the quiet, precise, judicious exercise of probity and care — with no one there to see or cheer.” The actions undertaken in Wings Of Desire and The Rings Of Saturn highlight just how much weight the words ‘probity’ and ‘care’ carry over the course of a story, as well as what it takes for someone to actually earn that epithet of praise.