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lov3nerdstuff · 4 years

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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.12}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.4k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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The time before the actual welcoming feast seemed to stretch on forever this year. The sorting took longer than usual, or at least it felt like that, and Dumbledore's speech seemed even more repetitive and boring than it always had. Robin guessed that it was the 48 hours without a meal that had her desperately looking forward to the beginning of the feast, and seeing as nobody else seemed to be bothered by how long it all was taking, she probably was right to think so.

In her impatience, she started fiddling with whatever cutlery she had within her reach on the table, tapping her feet, nibbling on her bottom lip… until the people around her were starting to be seriously irritated by her behavior, upon which she forced herself to stop. Instead, she went for her usual inspection of the staff at the head table. What was sitting up there like? Did they ever feel observed, or were they used to it from all the time they got stared at in class? She should ask about it, at some point.

Other than a few more wrinkles here and some new robes there, things really hadn't changed; they never did. While Dumbledore was speaking in the front, the teachers behind him were unsurprisingly not paying all too much attention. Sure, they all made the impression to be listening, but when Robin followed the line of faces, she could see Sprout quietly chatting with Hooch, Trelawney taking more interest in her goblet than in her colleagues, Hagrid and Flitwick having a very subtle argument about something… and then there was McGonagall, talking to Snape as if there wasn't even a speech she ought to be listening to. Robin inevitably had to smile when she saw the two; McGonagall being very much focused on whatever she was saying, while Snape was listening carefully but pretended to be entirely uninterested at the same time. Robin realized that he might very well do that to everyone who tried to talk to him about anything of minor importance. Then again… he was always listening to whatever she was rambling about, without a single spark of indifference. The thought made her smile even more. Perhaps he simply didn't bother with the facades around her anymore because she knew better anyway.

When the meal finally started, Robin was more than happy to indulge in the different kinds of food, and somehow everything tasted better than she remembered it to. But after weeks of living off whatever was cheapest in the store that day, a fully cooked meal like this was the most luxurious thing she could think of in the first place.

"I don't think I've ever seen you enjoying your food that much." Jorien remarked after a while, and Robin had to fight the embarrassment that wanted to paint her face.

"Yeah, didn't you get any breakfast at home?" Cas chuckled while she again picked the mushrooms out of her mixed vegetables and moved them over to Robin's plate. Some things just never changed.

"Good question, you've certainly lost some weight over the weeks of summer…" Jorien added, and both girls looked at Robin expectantly for an answer.

"I had quite a bit of exercise during the holidays, more than I usually get. Running through nature all day, every day, is a workout in itself. Perhaps that's where the weight went." She only shrugged in return, putting it off as nothing like she did so often when she didn't want the girls to know the truth. "I'm sure I'll be back to normal in no time now that we're back at school."

"You should eat dessert, too, then. Your robes look too loose like that, the fit needs some curve!" Cas replied in an expert manner, and Jorien only snorted while rolling her eyes. Robin however didn't mind, and when the time came, she had dessert indeed.

When the feast was over at last and the students started filing out of the hall to head to their common rooms, the three girls were among the very last to leave, as were Simon and his friends. The group split up into three segments in the entrance hall, Cas and Jorien heading to the Slytherin common room and the Ravenclaw boys to their own, while Robin wanted to tag along with her roommates for the way down to the office. But she didn't even get to the staircase before she was whisked away from the two girls –who were accustomed to her sudden disappearances by now– and she found herself in a gloomy ground-level hallway she hadn't even known existed up to this point, with a racing heart that only changed the reason for its speeding but not its pace itself when her eyes fell onto Snape two steps away now. Bloody hell… he shouldn't do things like this if he didn't want her to just lose it at some point.

"Was that really necessary?" She huffed in amusement, and couldn't help smiling up at him anyway. "I was just on my way down to the office to find you!"

"That is precisely why it was necessary." He replied calmly, with the barest hint of a not-smirk. "I have to patrol the castle grounds tonight, Minerva asked me to switch places with her. So no sitting in the office for now."

"Lovely." Robin sighed under her breath, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned back against the cold stone wall behind her. "And here I was, thinking that I would finally get to have coffee with you again after a week of being alone."

"We still can, after patrolling. Are you accompanying me like always?"

"Obviously." She gave him a small smirk once more, leaning her head to the side. "Are you making me coffee afterwards as a fair compensation like always?"

"Obviously." He rolled his eyes in feigned annoyance, which only made Robin grin more. "I must admit, a week without your insufferable self really turned out to be quite dreadful after all."

"Good. I missed you too."

"Is my house still standing?"

"Would it annoy you more if I said yes or no?" She asked innocently, rising her eyebrows once more, and her heart skipped a beat when he actually smirked for real in return. Always a delight to see, no matter how frequently it happened by now when they were alone.

They started sauntering through the hallways then, like they had done in the past school year as well, in search for students breaking curfew or any other inconveniences they could only hope not to encounter. Patrolling really was something Robin couldn't help but wonder about. Usually it meant for one professor to wander the castle alone, in the dark, without anything to do other than trying to make the night pass by as soon as possible. How dreadfully boring that must be; she was glad that she could make the dull task a little better for Snape by joining him in the misery of it at least. That way, they at least could chat and joke and bicker like always, only a bit more quietly. The portraits still grumbled at them from time to time, which however they simply ignored as they moved along. After an hour, they had caught up on the week's few events on either end, and Snape was quite obviously annoyed by the fact that Robin had spent two days without a meal. It took her a good twenty minutes to convince him that it was fine, and even more importantly, that it was in the past now and thus didn't matter anymore. Still, he seemed to be rather upset with himself about the issue, but Robin knew better than to push him, so she merely changed the topic, and eventually they were back to the usual. Other than that the night was considerably eventless.

It was only when they were passing through an almost empty sixth floor hallway when Robin picked up on a noise to her right, thus stopped walking abruptly and listened instead. Snape followed the example an instant later, and they stood in the middle of the hallway for a moment to listen to the silence, until the odd noises picked up again, from behind an inconspicuous door on the wall to their right a bit further down the hallway.

"Isn't that… just a broom closet?" Robin asked in an irritated whisper, frowning to herself first and then at Snape, until her brain made sense of the circumstances and she felt the heat creeping up her neck. "I, uh… I don't think I want to open that door."

"Neither do I." He grumbled in return, glaring at the door as if it would change anything about the awkward situation. "But as it happens to be, I will have to and you do not. So go ahead and spare yourself the embarrassment if you wish to."

"Nonsense. I'm not letting you suffer alone." She was quick to reply, then made the final few steps to stand with her back against the wall across from the door, and the very second Snape had caught up with her, she opened it with a wordless spell. It was ironic, really, that she didn't mind doing uncomfortable things in his place for the sake of sparing him from it.

The door flew open with a start, two startled yelps could be heard, and Robin's eyes fell onto two kids she had never seen before, which meant they had to be in the years below. They were still mostly dressed, it seems, and she was honestly glad for that at least. No need to make things even more awkward for anyone involved. Both the boy and the girl, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff respectively, quickly snapped out of their shock and straightened their clothing before trying to stammer out poor excuses for what they were doing in a broom closet at this time of night. Honestly, Robin just wanted to snort at their words and actions every other second, but she kept a perfect straight face of neutrality as always while Snape held his usual speech about rule-breaking and improper behavior that she had been a witness of often enough at this point. Never on the receiving end, obviously, but they had encountered enough students out of bed during their patrols that by now she could almost mouth along with his words. She only started actually listening again when Snape turned towards her.

"Could you accompany Miss Parlow to Professor Sprout's office?" He asked neutrally, but without the scowl he had directed at the two students a mere moment before. "I will see to it that Mister Sterling finds his way to Professor Flitwick."

"Yes, of course." Robin found herself replying before she thought, and only once she had agreed so easily, she thought that he had never asked her to do this before. It definitely was an act of trust rather than a burden, she knew that, and that's why she was all the more determined to see even this easy task through.

"Who exactly are you anyway?" The Hufflepuff girl eventually asked, as Robin led her through a few more empty hallways. "No offense, but you look like a fifth year, maximum. Why on earth are YOU escorting ME?"

"That isn't of your concern." Robin replied indifferently, and she was glad that she had decided to take a shortcut to Sprout's office. Perhaps she would ask Simon about the girl, they obviously were in the same grade.

"And why on earth would you wander around with Snape at this time, or at any time really? Is this your detention or something?" The girl asked on, and Robin sent her a glare that shut her up instead of answering the questions.

A few minutes later they reached the herbology professor's office, and Robin knocked three times, then waited while the girl by her side grew more and more nervous. When Sprout opened the door at last, Robin gave her a polite smile, then explained the situation shortly and to the point upon which the girl was ushered into the office.

"Thank you, Robin, I will take care of the issue from here right away." Sprout gave her a smile in return at last, while the girl in the office behind her now looked positively startled. "Tell Severus my thanks too, will you?"

"Wait, YOU are Robin? The girl who everyone's been talking about for years?" The girl in the office asked incredulously a second later, and finally she just seemed absolutely horrified. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry about what I said! Please forget I ever said anything at all, I honestly didn't mean to upset you!"

"Seems like you have inherited some of Severus' reputation after all, huh?" Sprout snickered quietly, and Robin almost had to smirk at her words in return.

"Actually, I believe that this was mostly my own doing." She replied under her breath. "Ever since that incident in my fourth year, people have been weary of me, and as it seems, rumours and legend grow stronger over time. I doubt that any of the lower years even knows what it all is about anymore, but that doesn't stop them from believing in my reputation."

"Take it as a gift, dear. It is hard to come by their respect in any way, especially when you're that young yourself." Sprout sighed quietly, then gave Robin another encouraging smile. "Well, anyway, I hope you two have a good night!"

"Likewise, thank you." Robin returned, and only when Sprout shut the door behind herself, leaving Robin alone in the hallway, she frowned at the herbology teacher's words for a moment before finally making her way back through the hallways to where she would meet Snape in the ground-level hallway they had started out in.

But again, Robin didn't get that far; Somehow, people seemed to take joy in disrupting her plans today, and it left her feeling less in control than she would've liked. This time, how could it be any different, it was Morgan who stepped into her way out of nowhere.

"Miss Mitchell, what a delight to have you back at last. For the new term, of course." He smiled at her brightly, and the hairs in Robin's neck stood on high alert in an instant.

"Professor…" She greeted him politely, but when she tried to walk around him while keeping her head low like she ought to, he blocked her way again, this time getting way too close for comfort.

"And where would we be headed?" He inquired in a bright tone as he moved in even closer, making Robin back up until her back hit the wall. Well… damnit.

"I was just on my way back from Professor Sprout's office." She replied truthfully but quietly, in an attempt to keep her facade up and play the submissive little girl. The act still made her feel sick, but she hadn't forgotten their encounter at the ball; it was very much necessary to refrain from fighting back, and she had done a fairly good job at it ever since adoption this strategy.

"I see." He sighed softly, but still refused to back up even a step. He clearly didn't mind invading her personal space, which became all the more obvious when he traced a single finger along her collarbone and down her shoulder. Robin would've very much liked to break his arm for doing that, but such a behaviour unfortunately wouldn't count as laying low. So she only stared at the ground a few steps behind him and tried not to break her act while he spoke. "After making it to honours in herbology and even giving a lecture in front of renowned professionals in the field, I'm sure you can teach Pomona one thing or two…"

"You… you know about the lecture?"

"It was in the news, darling." He purred with a sickening smile. "I still have the article in my rooms… And the picture, of course."

The thought that Morgan had kept a picture of her made Robin feel even more sour than the situation did anyway, and she honestly just wanted to hex him further down the hallway with a single spell and then dash off like her body and mind were telling her to. But that would count as attacking a teacher, and without any witnesses or proof of her story, she would always end up on the losing end of that scenario. Whatever she did, people would believe Morgan's version of it more than hers, more than the truth.

"You have lost some weight since the picture was taken…" He finally spoke on, in a nonchalant tone that still had a cutting edge to it, and at last he removed his hand from her arm. "Say, doesn't Severus feed his little pet enough?"

A cold shudder ran down Robin's spine, at the same time as her stomach churned and her heart stopped for a moment, then started racing. She felt sick now indeed, scared and sick and far too close to panicking. Morgan was obviously playing with her, trying to get a reaction… but she wouldn't give him one. At least not the one she wanted to give, which was precisely the one he wanted to see.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She breathed in sincere fear, which was working in her favor for once. Why cover up something that was helping the act?

"Oh, I'm sure you do." He smiled at her in a mixture of humour and some twisted kind of adoration. "What do you get out of it, huh?"

"I have no idea what you're implying, but whatever it is, you're absolutely wrong. Sir."

"I mean, Miss Mitchell, that he gets a beautiful and spectacularly talented woman all to himself, devoted as you clearly are. But what do you get from him in return?"

"You're wrong…" Robin croaked out in a whisper, but she couldn't even think of anything else to say to defend herself without starting a war right here, right now.

"Don't tell me I wouldn't find his fingerprints on your skin if I were to take a look… Don't tell me you don't want him to save you right now." He hissed, and his hand was back on Robin's shoulder, squeezing painfully like he had all this time ago down by the forest. She winced involuntarily, and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment to keep the gathering tears from spilling over. Perhaps it wasn't so difficult to play scared after all… not when she really was terrified out of her mind for real.

"Let go of me. Please." She tried to get out as calmly as she could, but her shoulder was hurting enough to make her grit her teeth. The pain didn't suffice however for her to miss how his other hand traced her collarbone once again, only to move towards her neck this time. Her urge to fight back grew to the unbearable, and she had to ball up a bunch of fabric of her robes in each hand to keep them at her sides. "You have no right to touch me, nor to threaten me. So, Let. Me. Go."

"You were supposed to be mine, you know…" He sighed sadly, and his fingers traced down Robin's neck, following the thin silver chain of her necklace across her chest to the point where it ran beneath her blouse. Then he tugged the chain up until he held the locket between his fingertips. "It was supposed to be you and I until the end. But Severus just had to get in the way, didn't he? I shall make sure he sees the error in claiming what is mine."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Robin's emotions were finally gaining the upper hand, and her voice shook with anger and fear alike. "But if you try to harm him in any way, I shall make sure that I will be the very end of you."

"Ah, there you finally are again, my dear… I have missed you." Morgan held her gaze with a smirk for a moment, then his eyes traveled down to the locket and inevitably also to her cleavage. "So fierce… So full of passion." With a start he yanked on the necklace, and the thin chain bit deeply into Robin's neck before coming undone.

Damnit, her act was blown, her neck hurting and her shoulder was still trapped in his punishing grip. Robin had given him exactly what he wanted, she knew that, but it was too late to change that now. Even her facades had a breaking point, and Morgan had found it at last. Yet, he still kept her pressed into the wall by her shoulder as he inspected the locket in his hand curiously for a moment, then looked back up at her with a sneer.

"I'm sure you won't mind if I keep this for a while, will you? As a reminder of what ought to inevitably be…"

"Fuck off." Robin hissed in return, dropping every hint of submission to glare up at him in pure hostility. "If you truly believe yourself to be entitled to me in some sickening way, you're even more eaten up by insanity than I thought."

"Insanity is such a vile word, darling… I am dedicated, just like you are. We have more in common than you think."

"You're nothing like me."

"No, I'm certainly not." Morgan chuckled softly and took the last step closer to press Robin into the wall with his own body now. "But that doesn't mean we have nothing in common."

"Get away from me right now or you will regret it." Robin said coldly, and finally released the balled up fabric from her hands. Witnesses or not, she would rather get expelled for attacking a teacher than letting herself be assaulted like this.

"Oh please…" Morgan scoffed in a dismissive tone, and after slipping the necklace into the pockets of his robes, he placed his now free hand against the wall next to Robin's head. "I'm not scared of Severus. And I'm certainly not scared of you."

"You should be." Robin stated under her breath, then focused her entire energy and willpower into a wordless spell that had Morgan flying through the hallway indeed, a good twenty feet even, before he came crashing down on the ground with a gruesome cracking sound.

For a moment he merely groaned and hardly even moved, but Robin still drew her wand from her sleeve and pointed it at the professor in determination to do whatever was necessary to defend herself. No matter what he was about to do now, she wouldn't let him catch her off guard. Not again. But she also wouldn't be the one to attack, not even when he deserved it quite so much at this point. But to her surprise, Morgan simply sat up after a while, hissing in pain, but with the biggest smile on his face.

"This should suffice to get you expelled." He chuckled to himself, overly happy at the prospect, so much so that he simply wouldn't stop grinning.

If anything, this proved Robin right in her assumption that he had been trying to coax such a reaction from her. But then again, she was absolutely certain that his behavior, his words and actions, hadn't been just for show. He wouldn't have bothered to keep her locket if it had been, he merely could've destroyed it or tossed it aside. But he wanted a trophy, and he wanted HER, that much she was certain of now. Only didn't she know what he wanted her for, or why. He certainly despised her, he had absolutely hated her for all these long years, and yet, now, he still wanted her in some twisted way… Robin didn't understand. Not even nearly, not when his behaviour was so different all of a sudden, and yet so very in line with everything that had been in the years before. No, Robin didn't understand at all. But when Morgan scrambled to his feet and limped back towards her, she didn't get the time to think about it any longer.

"A broken bone or two are quite the lovely evidence you presented me with. I shall thank you, my dear." He smiled at her sweetly once more, but stopped a few steps away now that Robin kept her wand pointed at him and bowed ridiculously low before her. How could anyone be like that?! She didn't understand, none of it, but Morgan didn't cease to scare her beyond reason anyhow.

Robin was just about to reply when she heard footsteps approaching quickly from her left, and Morgan seemed to notice them too, for he turned to look right into that direction as well. Three seconds later, Professor McGonagall stepped into the dim light of the few candles that lit up the partial crossing Robin and Morgan were standing in the middle of.

"Oh, Minerva!" Morgan went straight at it, his smile suddenly gone and replaced by a brilliantly feigned pain stricken expression. "Thank God you are here… You have to stop her! I… I think she broke my leg, perhaps my wrist as well, when… when she attacked me!"

McGonagall inspected the scene with wary eyes, taking in Robin's unfaltering grip on her wand that she still kept pointed at Morgan, then her colleague's pity-evoking appearance and pleading eyes. Robin knew that it looked beyond bad for her; what an ironic repetition of the event that had started it all six years ago. The same people, the same situation overall. Morgan was making Robin the villain of his story, himself the obvious victim, and McGonagall had no clue about what had really happened, but she was made to be his judge either way. But honestly, Robin didn't have it in her to defend herself like a bloody child caught in the act anymore. If she was asked for her version of events she would gladly provide it, but she wouldn't try to change opinions that were already forged in stone. If this would mark her fall from grace, she would at least fall with some last scraps of dignity.

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tf2-parqcxsm · 4 years

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Scout x Reader: For Too Long

You repeatedly tapped your pen on the table, biting your lower lip as you thought about what to put on the paper that was laid out right in front of you. "Alright, well, Pyro had some strange stuff in his closet, but I guess I'll consider it." You uttered, and proceeded to mark the box next to Pyro's name. You were one of the Administrator's assistants, and your job was to check the mercenaries' rooms to see if they have any suspicious equipment. You have to admit, it was boring, but you can't complain either. You did develop some interesting relationships with the team, anyway.

Placing your pen down, you stretched out your arms and laid back further on your chair, relieved that you finally finished what you have to do for today. Your body felt numb, all because you walked through the bases, which are also extremely huge and are separated in a far distance. A long sigh escaped your lips, "Finally. I can rest." You were supposed to close your eyes, until a loud knock interrupted your relaxed moment.

The noise immediately caused you to stand up from your chair and walk towards the door. There wasn't anyone else in the office — except for Miss Pauling and the Administrator — to suddenly come up on your door, so you had no choice but to quickly answer the door.

You fixed yourself before opening the door, and to no surprise, you were faced with your boss. "Ah! What can I help you with, ma'am?" You forced yourself to flash a small smile. Don't wanna look gloomy now, do we? The puff of smoke from the Administrator's cigarette somehow made its way to your nose, and you simply covered your face with your hand. "We need to talk, Miss (Y/n)." She spoke, while her gaze was away from yours. The solemnity in her voice made your stomach swirl. You knew you wouldn't like what she was going to say next, you didn't know what triggered her but all you know is that it was probably something you did. You gritted your teeth and furrowed your eyebrows, "U-Uh— Sure. Would you like to come in or—?"

"We can talk here."

"Ri- Right…"

You closed the door behind you and stood up straight, waiting for the Administrator to speak up once again. "Miss (Y/n), how long have you been here?" She raised a question that filled your head with confusion. She knows the answer, and yet she asks you this question. However, you still answered, not wanting to irritate the woman in front of you. "Um, I've been here for three years, ma'am." You responded formally. Clenching your fists, your arms stayed at your sides. The Administrator walked towards the window, which was at the opposite side of your room, and spoke whilst her back was onto you.

"In those three years, what have you done?" She questioned again. Your eyes followed her figure, but you stayed at where you were. "Well, I go around the bases on a daily basis to see if the mercenaries are keeping anything in secret." You could have sworn to yourself that you saw her turn head on a slight angle. You could feel her intense gaze, even when she isn't looking directly at you.

"What else?"

You thought for a few seconds, bringing up your hand to your chin, "Oh! I often substitute Miss Pauling whenever she's busy with…other business." You explained, the last part of your statement sounding rather unsure. Maybe tuning your voice like that was a bad idea, as the Administrator fully turned around to you with a displeased expression on her face. "And that's it? You've done nothing else?" She creepily walked towards you as she spoke, causing you to take a step backward. Anxiety crawled up to your veins as you caught a glimpse of her eyes. "I, uh— Yes, ma'am." You stammered between your sentences, in fear that she might slap you out of nowhere.

But she didn't. Instead, she narrowed her eyes at you. She backed up and dropped her cigarette on the ground, stepping on it to get rid of the smoke. "Miss (Y/n), did you forget that we have cameras all over this place?" She questioned you again. "Huh?" You blabbered, genuinely confused by her sudden questioning. You didn't know how to respond, you simply stood there with a puzzled look on your face. She hummed at your stance, the corner of her lips perking up. "We know everything. We watch everything."

You opened your mouth to speak but no words came out. You felt like you were being choked by some kind of invisible force. "Well, maybe except for your room. That would be an invasion of privacy." The Administrator interrupted your running thoughts as she walked past towards you, making you tense up your shoulders. She stopped right behind you while you were contemplating the situation.

"So, from this day onward, you will be forbidden to visit the bases."

Did you just hear that correctly? You immediately turned your head towards her, waving your hands everywhere as you couldn't understand her motivation behind this. "But- I don't- May I ask why?" You were extremely in shock that you couldn't get your sentences right. The world felt like it was breaking down to pieces, the gray color replacing the rainbows that once scattered around your vision. "Why?" She repeated your question and turned around, looking directly at you with such seriousness. "Because you've been distracting the mercenaries!" She yelled, finally breaking her formal gestures and speaking. "Especially your little sly boyfriend." You gasped at what she said.

"Bo- Boyfriend?"

Oh.

Scout.

Realization struck through you. "Wha- Ma'am, it isn't what you think!" You tried to make up an excuse. It was true that you have some feelings for the youngest mercenary in the team, but having the Administrator find out what you've been doing just for him for the past few years will get you real trouble. You couldn't bear the thought. "No, no more excuses. I've had enough." She breathed in and out, calming her senses. "That's all. You can get back to work." She simply stated, walking away and leaving you utterly broken.

But she stopped in her tracks, saying one last thing before she leaves the scene, "Oh, and,"

"Miss Pauling will exchange jobs with you."

She walked away sassily. All sorts of emotions burst through you, causing you to immensely tremble. You knew Scout had a huge crush on Miss Pauling before, what if it comes back now? You'll lose your chance. Oh god, you can't even accept the fact that this whole thing is happening. You won't even be able to see the other mercenaries! They were like your best friends.

You felt a tear drop from your cheek. You quickly wiped it away to avoid anyone from seeing your weakness. Afterwards, you quickly returned to your room, letting out all your tears as you weep on your bed.

Little did you know that Miss Pauling saw the whole thing happen. Watching from a corner.

The Next Day

"Oh, hey, Miss Pauling!" Scout greeted the purple-wearing lady as she entered the base. "Hi, Scout." She greeted back with a weak smile. The young man looked around the surroundings, as if he's looking for something — or someone — specific. He scratched his head, "That's kinda weird. Usually, it be (Y/n) who comes around by this time." Miss Pauling nervously laughed at his statement and gripped her clipboard tightly. "Ah, well— We're just switching jobs for a bit. She got a lot of work from the Administrator." She waved her hand in front of her neck, implying that she could get killed if she told him the actual reason.

Scout got the sign but interpreted it wrongly. He first raised a finger, his eyes narrowed and mouth slightly agape. His eyebrows then raised and his eyes widened as soon as he realized what she was trying to say. "Ohh, right, right!" He finger gunned at her, and she merely nodded in response. They both agreed on something they didn't even get the message correctly. "Well, uh, why don't ya check my room first?" He pointed behind his back with his thumb. "Sure." Miss Pauling accepted his offer with a smile. Scout led the way to his room, skipping over the way as the black-haired lady trailed behind.

Eventually, they arrived at their destination. Miss Pauling quickly checked around his room — it was unsurprisingly messy — and marked off Scout's name on the clipboard she has been holding. "Seems like you've got nothing suspicious hidden." She remarked, turning around just to see the young man scavenging through his closet. "Uh, Scout?" She called out for him. He didn't even bother to look up or hum at least, and it caused Miss Pauling to approach him to take a closer look at what he's doing.

"Aha! Found it!" He cheered as he raised his arms with a pen in hand. "It's a…pen." Miss Pauling spoke in an uninterested tone. Scout waved the pen, "Hell yea it is! I borrowed it from (Y/n), actually, and I was gunna give it back to her today, buuut only you came." He approached Miss Pauling with a pleading smile and lent the pen to her. "Maybe ya can give to back to her?"

Miss Pauling snickered at his gestures. "Sure. I'll stop by her room later." She took the pen from his hand, taking a quick scan of the item. It was a simple-looking pen with a cap, the ink almost drained out and the ends look like they've been scratched intensely. She couldn't understand how it happened but here she is, with your pen in hand. When she took her gaze away from the item, Scout was grinning widely like an idiot. He suddenly took her into a tight hug for a quick moment and put her down afterwards, nearly leaving her breathless. "Thanks, Miss Pauling! You da best!" Scout gave her a thumbs up as his wide grin stayed on his face, Miss Pauling did the same thing but with a more distressed expression.

Later that day, she actually stopped by your room to give back your pen. She knew you had a lot of spare pens to use, so she didn't see why she still had to give this to you, but she could see that you were lonely and wanted to check on you, at least. You quickly answered the door once she knocked, and you were actually surprised that the dorkiest person you've known for the entire time that you've worked here would actually give back something you never really thought of. You merely thanked your co-worker and went back to work, Miss Pauling got extremely concerned when she saw the depressed look on your face.

She had to do something.

Several Weeks Later

Another day, another chance to sulk in your room. You were getting bored with the current job you had, all you had to do was watch the battle immense and take down notes. Where's the fun in that? The only people you could talk to was Miss Pauling and the Administrator, and nothing interesting ever really comes up in your conversations. You already missed the enormous laughter and screaming voices of the 9 men you loved wholeheartedly. It gets you sad every time you think of them.

Meanwhile, Miss Pauling was once again in the base, checking everyone's room for any suspicious equipment. She decided to visit Scout last, as she didn't know how to confront him in case he asks where the hell you are.

But this day was different.

Scout was acting strangely. Too strangely. He was silent the entire time Miss Pauling searched throughout his room, with his arms crossed against his chest and leaned on one of his desks. She got worried and questioned what was bothering him, "Scout? Are you okay? You've been quiet."

His lips almost immediately turned into a thin line, his eyebrows furrowing. Miss Pauling sighed, the expression on his face making her feel uneasy. "Scout, are you—"

"Where the heck is (Y/n)?"

And boom. Her heart skipped a beat. She knew he would ask one day, but for some reason, she wasn't prepared for this moment. Nervously, she spoke, "Scout, I can't tell you that."

"And why not?!"

"Because we're being watched!"

Silence fell through the room. It wasn't normal for the lady to shout in conversations, and even Scout himself was shocked at the event. Miss Pauling rubbed the bridge of her nose and took a heavy sigh before looking up again, "Scout, look, I really want to clear your questions and all, but I just can't tell you. Alright?" The young man frowned at her response. He brought his gaze away from her and stared hard at the ground. It's been so long since the last time he saw (Y/n), he's getting mildly worried and wanted to ask Miss Pauling where she was, but all he got was refusal of an answer. Even the other men were getting worried about the lady whose bright smile would make up their day in an instant.

And Miss Pauling knows all of that. She wasn't dumb, she took notice of their actions and frequently received questions about her friend. A sigh once again escaped her lips, rolling her eyes as she grabbed her clipboard, and started writing.

Scout didn't notice as he was too focused on keeping his attention away from the lady. He doesn't like her anymore, was she trying to get him back when it's already too late? His thoughts were cut off when Miss Pauling suddenly took his hand and put something in it, "Don't tell anybody. And don't do anything stupid." She whispered quietly to him, she immediately backed away from him and left the room without saying a single word.

Scout blinked multiple times before setting his attention on whatever Miss Pauling just gave him. It was a piece of paper, and was almost crumpled. He carefully opened it with his bandage-wrapped hands, and what he read made his jaw drop and immediately regret those thoughts he had earlier.

He should have known.

Some Time Later

"BLU team, the intelligence has been captured! Retrieve it now!" The Administrator shouted into the microphone, alerting the team and causing everyone to move quickly. You stood there beside her, with a clipboard and pen in hand. Specifically, you were using the pen that Miss Pauling gave you, the one that Scout borrowed. You missed him and the others, and just wanted to at least bring one piece of memory that could cheer you up as you watched the battle through the screens.

You saw Scout run through Tuefort, a frown on your face. Even with him visible across the screen, you couldn't help but feel a little bit of sadness in your heart. He was the one, and you knew that, and the Administrator took it all away. You couldn't blame her either, though.

A knock on the door somehow echoed throughout the room. Both you and the Administrator turned your heads around to the sound, but you made it up for her, "I'll go get it."

She nodded and went back to announcing alerts for the teams, as you quickly jogged to the door and grabbed the doorknob, expecting to see Miss Pauling or, perhaps, Mister Hale. That guy is crazy but who else would disturb his assistants when there's a battle going on? You took a quick breath before completely opening the door and putting on a fake smile, "Hello, how can I—"

"Hey, (Y/n)!"

Your eyes widened, your jaw dropped, and you even nearly dropped the objects you were holding. "Whoa, okay there. Is just me, sweet buns." Scout spread his arms for reassurance, but you stood there completely shocked at what you were seeing.

"(Y/n), who's there?"

You turned around nervously at the sound of the Administrator's voice, thankfully she was still facing the screens, but still, you couldn't let her know that one of the mercenaries was in the office! You will get screwed! And worse, him! "Um, it's just, uh, Miss Pauling! She's asking some questions and I'll be helping her for a few minutes!" You spitted out a lie, if you had to be honest, you didn't know if it would work.

But it did. The Administrator trusted your words, even with that tone in your voice, and let you off easy. "Okay, make it quick."

"Yes, ma'am!" After responding to her simple command, you immediately closed the door and grabbed Scout's wrist, taking him somewhere else as you didn't want your upcoming disastrous conversation to be overheard by anyone. You ended up dragging him — he was wincing and begging you to slow down — in a storage space and that's where you bursted out. "Scout, what are you doing here?! Actually, how are you here?! Who's in the battlefield?!" Your hand gestures just showed how shocked you are at this moment. Scout waved his hand to shake off the pain and merely grinned at your questions, "It was Spy! Cool, ain't it?"

Was he flexing? He was flexing. You took a palm to your face and sighed, "Of course it was Spy."

"Hey, at least I got here!"

You looked at him with disappointment, your hands running over your hair and your face scrunching up. "No, Scout, you can't be here. You know that! Both you and I will get screwed if the Administrator finds out!" You were practically yelling at this point, you still couldn't believe the boy of your dreams somewhat managed to get here, how else were you supposed to react? Even Miss Pauling would be devastated at the sight of him being here. Scout noticed the emotions you were emitting and frowned, "Come on now, it's been far too long, (Y/n)." The change in his tone made you ease up a little bit. Your arms dropped at your sides as you listened to what he had to say.

"Actually, I just wanted to see ya— But, uh, the other dudes missed ya too!" He was shifting and blushing furiously, his ears were flushing red as his eyes were going everywhere except at you. You were speechless. You didn't know what to say. Did he really escape the battle just to see you? Would you even be able to believe that? What if it was a Spy who was trying to make you feel all sorts of emotions?

No, it can't be. Spy was too old for you. "Scout, I, I didn't— I wasn't expecting to—"

"To see me here? Yeah, me either."

Scout cut you off before you even got to finish what you were trying to say, he continued to ramble about his journey all the way here. One part included that he had to beg to Engineer for making a teleporter but he was rejected by the Texan. You heard everything he said, but you just couldn't speak up. He is right in front you, weren't you supposed to feel happy? Didn't you want to see him?

You didn't know what to feel and just cried off at the spot, bringing your hands to your face. The young man immediately stopped his gibberish talking as soon as he heard you sob, and he panicked, "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Okay, chill! Did I say something wrong or what?!" He tried to hold your arms for comfort, but he was afraid he would scare you. His eyebrows furrowed in worry as he saw your tears fall off your cheeks. "Dammit, Scout! I've missed you so much!" You wailed as your hands stayed on your face. Another sob escaped your lips. The heartbreaking sound ripping out Scout's sense of hearing and tearing his heart apart. He couldn't bare to see you like this.

He sighed, "I- I missed you too, (Y/n)." He shyly spoke, averting his gaze away from you even though you had your eyes covered. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "No, to be honest? I really wanted to see you. Shit, maybe I did this because I love you."

"Huh?" You put away your hands and looked at Scout in confusion. You still had tears falling off from your face, but you came to your senses. His face was so red to the point he looked like a tomato, "Eh, well, I mean— I loved you! I mean, I love you right now, but like— I just— Ugh, whatever." His sentences came in stutters as he was too embarrassed by what he just said, he had his head lowered in defeat. But you didn't care. You thought it was cute, actually. For once, a genuine happy smile crept to your face. You embraced him into a tight hug and cried into his chest, this time they were tears of joy.

Scout was shocked at your action and didn't move an inch. He was hesitant if he should hug you back, but sooner or later, you felt his arms around you. It made you feel safe and happy, and you didn't want to let go.

"I love you too, Scout."

Extra Scene

The sun shone through the windows of the base, setting off shadows of various shapes and adding a warm glow to the large area. Scout walked through the hallways to the dining area with a cheeky grin on his face. The other mercenaries noticed this as he sat down, starting to munch down on his food without saying a word.

Sniper raised an eyebrow at his change of mood, "Ya seem lively today, mate."

"Yeah, yesterday was awesome!"

Spy remembered what he had to do with him and groaned in frustration. Soldier slammed his hands on the table, causing the utensils to shake vigorously due to his force, and pointed a finger aggressively at the young man. "Did you get a girlfriend or what?!"

"I did!"

Their eyes widened at his answer. "I…I was not expecting that kind of answer!" Soldier announced as he sat back down. Scout grinned cockily at them, amused about the fact that they couldn't believe a word he said. "You guys don't believe me? Her name is—"

"Hey, guys?"

They all turned their heads to the door, and there you were. "(Y/n)!" Scout stood up from his seat and ran towards you, bringing you to a hug.

"IT'S (Y/N)?!" The other mercenaries shouted in disbelief. You looked at them in confusion, but soon realized what they were saying. Bringing your gaze to your newly found love, you gasped, "Scout, you told them?!"

He grinned at you, "How can I not? I want to flex to them my beautiful girl." He poked your nose, making you giggle. The 8 men watched you two lovebirds, a frown on their faces except for Pyro who was clapping happily for the new couple.

It was kind of embarrassing to know that the Administrator did find out about you two, though.

#a bit long but it's ok #actually it's really long #tf2 #tf2 scout #tf2 fanfic #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 x reader #scout x reader

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lucianhuntress · 7 years

Text

Love Colored Pens Chapter 1 - Summer’s Over

Meeting some of the boys. Finally. ;3

Tagging @glaive-eve here.

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Word count: 2881 Warnings: None

For the last remaining days of their summer vacation, Caitlin was doing a good job at settling in at the new apartment. Eve was a major help whenever she could spare the time and they usually went to buy the groceries together, so she could show Caitlin around. The rest of the time Eve busied herself with a school project they had been given for the summer.

Caitlin jolted up from the bed as the alarm in her phone disrupted her sweet dreams. She slammed her hand on the nightstand that she had bought a few days ago, trying desperately to get a hold on the phone buzzing innocently and playing some heavy tune from the Iron Giant -band. “Ugh, is it eight already?”

She cursed quietly to herself and slowly stood up from her bed, quickly changing her clothes into more appropriate ones. It would have been bad for her reputation to attend the entrance ceremony in pajamas. After changing into a black leather skirt and a white, long-sleeved shirt, she emerged from her bedroom and had a clear shot to all the way to the kitchen.

Eve was eating breakfast while browsing something on her phone. She was already fully dressed, hair done and a slight makeup enhancing her looks. She slowly lifted her gaze from the phone and took a sip from her glass, which was filled with orange juice.

“Good morning, Cait!” Eve rasped in amusement, when she noticed the half-ready Caitlin standing in front of her bedroom doorway, looking totally awake. She was desperately leaning at the door frame. At least she had managed to pull some clothes on, but it was all wrinkled and messy — and she had a sock hanging out from her sleeve.

“I’m not used to this,” Caitlin answered dryly, her eyes half open. She couldn’t even understand why the entrance ceremony had to be so early in the morning. Who actually attended to it?

“You want me to wait up for you?” Eve asked and stood up from the bar chair she had been sitting on. She was wearing black jeans and a pink shirt with a flower design in it. Her blonde hair was on a long braid.

“Well I wouldn’t mind if we went together. I have no idea which direction the school is,” Caitlin mumbled and dashed towards the kitchen, while shaking the sock off from her sleeve. She gathered something edible from the freezer she managed to open after a few exhausted pulls.

“You’d better hurry then,” Eve said while studying curiously her actions and taking one final gulp from her drink. She walked over to the vestibule to put her shoes on and to wait for Caitlin.

Caitlin let out a frustrated groan and stuffed a banana into her shoulder bag after eating some yogurt. She sprinted between the kitchen, her bedroom and the bathroom to get ready, while Eve waited and tapped her foot.

Caitlin was finally able to pull heels on and nod at Eve to signal that she was ready to depart. She was proud that getting ready had taken only five minutes. They left the apartment to start their journey to a new semester.

The campus area was as crowded as ever. People sat on grass chatting about last summer or wandered along the paths laughing and joking. Caitlin’s eyes darted from a person to another almost as if she had never seen so many people at the same time. At least the campus area was filled with trees and flower plantings, creating a park-like look around the buildings.

“I didn’t know it was this crowded,” Caitlin muttered nervously. At least her ex wouldn’t be in the university anymore. He had graduated last spring.

“What? I thought this was your third year?” Eve said, but a wry smile was forming on her lips, when she saw Caitlin’s slightly terrified gaze.

“I skipped the entrance ceremony every year. It’s boring,” Caitlin said gawking around restlessly.

“Seriously? How do you know if it’s boring if you’ve never attended to it?” Eve asked tilting her head from side to side. Caitlin cocked her brows at her. “Ah fine. It’s boring,” she had to admit. But it was always a nice chance to meet friends. Suddenly Eve noticed two very familiar looking guys waving at her from a distance. “Caitlin, I’ll be with you in a moment,” she said. “There are some friends I have to see.”

“Sure. I was going to talk to that one professor near the entrance anyway.” Caitlin said. Her biology teacher was talking with some other students near the door to the hall, where the ceremony was being held. “See you later then.”

Eve hurried to meet the two of her best friends. They were waiting for her eagerly by chatting together and flashing smiles at her direction. Noctis had midnight dark hair and shining, sapphire blue eyes. He wore a t-shirt, cargo pants and military boots and it was all black. Noctis was the only child of a famous business millionaire — Regis Caelum, and Noctis studied business to follow his father’s footsteps.

Prompto had blonde hair and a cheerful smile. He also had blue eyes and freckles dotted his pale skin. He wore a jean jacket and a white shirt under it. Prompto studied media and carried his camera literally everywhere.

“Eve! It’s been like — six years?” Prompto sighed when Eve was close enough to hear them. “And who was the girl with you?” Eve knew that Prompto was always intrigued when it came to girls, even better if they were hanging out with Eve.

“Actually we met last spring just before the school ended,” Eve chuckled smiling happily at the two of them, “and she is just a friend of mine.” Noctis and Prompto were Eve’s childhood friends and they still had kept in touch throughout their school years and now they were all in the same university. Noctis and Prompto were starting their second year.

“You, uh… you’ve tanned a bit,” Noctis mumbled at Eve.

“Yeah I was on a trip to Galdin Quay with dad,” Eve grinned.

“Seriously?” Prompto asked with a shocked face. She nodded in return. “I thought mister Leonis would be buried with random corpses and heists, so that he wouldn’t actually have time to take his daughter to the beach!” Noctis rolled his eyes at Prompto when no one was looking.

“So where are Iggy and Gladdy?” Eve asked.

“Gladdy was overrun with some new chicks,” Prompto sighed jealously. It happened every year. Or actually every day. It must’ve been hard to be one of the most popular guys in the university.

“Iggy went to get the schedule for the ceremony,” Noctis grunted and smiled lightly. Ignis wanted to know everything about the upcoming stuff, no matter if it was an event or a lecture.

“That does sound like something they would do,” Eve sighed. Well, she had a whole year to catch up with them and hear all about their summer. “I hope we’re going to the party this evening?”

“About that party,” Prompto said with a mysterious look on his face. Noctis raised his eyebrow curiously. “You know how the university’s paper releases an article about the party fourth year students throw…”

Eve and Noctis traded glances, while wondering what secrets Prompto had.

“And I got us tickets to the best party of the year!” Prompto shouted with a wide smile. They stood in a silence for three seconds while Eve and Noctis processed the news.

“Really?” Eve and Noctis asked at the same time. Everyone hyped about the fourth year party and only the lucky ones got in. It almost sounded more like a legend among the rest of the students and only the fourth year students knew the shady truth.

“‘Thank you, amazing Prompto’ would be nice once in a while,” Prompto chuckled bowing at Eve and Noctis, like he was receiving applauds.

“‘Finally you are being useful’ sounds more appropriate,” Noctis said flashing an impish smile. Eve giggled at Noctis and his cheeks turned ravishingly pink. Prompto threw poisonous glares at Noctis, who pulled the most innocent look on his face.

“By the way Prompto. Is there any room for an additional friend?” Eve asked after calming down from the giggle.

“Oooh, are you bringing that new friend of yours?” Prompto asked, suddenly recalling the girl he had seen with Eve just a moment before. Noctis crossed his arms and furrowed his brows.

“Yes, she could use some cheering up now. She just broke up and she has never been to a university party before,” Eve said smiling cheerfully.

“Oooh, Eve is introducing us to a new girl,” Prompto howled excitedly and Eve could hear him mumbling: “And she’s single!”

“Yay,” Noctis said sounding ultimately uninterested.

“Ah c’mon. It’ll be nice,” Eve said flashing Noctis a heartwarming smile. He nodded slowly and turned around to hide another blush.

“Maybe we should go to the ceremony?” Prompto frowned checking the time from his phone screen.

“I’ll go with my new friend. I’ll see you later!” Eve said waving them goodbyes and ran back to Caitlin, who had walked all across the campus yard to the front doors. She was deep in her thoughts and didn’t even notice Eve at first.

“Caitlin?” Eve said, waving her hand in front of her glazed eyes. Caitlin snapped from her thoughts and stared at Eve with her eyes open wide.

“Eve!” she gasped. She looked surprised and Eve could only guess what she had been thinking of. She blinked her eyes and looked around almost as if she had suddenly forgotten where she was.

“The ceremony will begin soon. Shall we?” Eve asked with a wide smile.

“Yeah sure. Let’s do this!” Caitlin said. She rubbed her palms together in fake excitement, making them both chuckle.

They followed the masses to a huge hall, where the ceremony was being held. A speech podium was on the right side of the hall and the stand was on the left, leaving a wide, empty gap in between. The stand was slowly filling up and Caitlin and Eve rushed to get two seats from the top row.

“Hey, Caitlin?” Eve asked after they sat down on the hard plastic seats.

“What’s up?” she answered, wondering how long the ceremony would take. She held her bag in her lap and her eyes followed every student that walked past them.

“You up for a party tonight?” Eve asked. Caitlin took a moment before answering.

“Me? Party? Are you sure?” Caitlin said gnawing her lower lip and flashing an insecure smile. “I don’t know… I haven’t partied much lately.”

“My friend got tickets to the best party of the year. You don’t want to miss this chance!” Eve said smiling knowingly. Caitlin groaned and buried her face into the bag on her lap. “You won’t be in university forever, you know.”

“Well, umm… Okay,” Caitlin mumbled against the bag. She hadn’t really felt like partying so soon after the breakup, but it sounded like a chance to taste the university life in Insomnia. She lifted her head up and stared at Eve. “I have work tomorrow, but I don’t think they mind if I’m slightly hungover. So yes, I’ll come to the party.”

“Great! Because my friends are all guys so I’m kinda getting enough of the sausage fest,” Eve giggled making Caitlin laugh too. “And they are all single — I think.” Eve said quietly. Gladio’s status changed all the time, but as far as Eve knew, they were all single.

“Seriously? Lucky you. Hopefully they are hot too,” Caitlin sighed and her lips curled into a light smile. “I mean… I don’t think I’m still not ready for a new thing, but I won’t deny any eye candy.”

“Yeah, that’s why I asked you. You need to cheer up and move on,” Eve answered and gently patted Caitlin’s shoulder.

“Thanks Eve,” Caitlin chuckled and let out a long sigh. Suddenly all the lights waned and a spotlight appeared to lighten up the empty podium. Caitlin smiled at the dramatic moment the principal had created. It was probably meant for freshmen, so they’d take the school seriously right from the start.

The principal walked to the podium and rested his eyes on the audience. He took a small silent moment before starting his speech. “Good morning everyone and welcome to the start of the school year!” He paused and smiled pleasantly as he studied the audience for everyone's reactions.

The hall was quiet and everyone was just eagerly waiting for the principal to be done with his speech. He started ranting about the school like he did every autumn. Same story, different year. How to behave on the campus grounds, how to stay motivated or how to attend the school activities...

Caitlin dozed off for a while and woke up when Eve started poking her cheek.

“Is it over?” Caitlin yawned quietly. The principal was still on about school rules. She sighed uninterestedly and leaned her chin on her palm. Eve grinned and felt the happy vibrating her phone was making in her bag. No doubt that Noctis and Prompto were bored too.

“I wonder how long this is going to take,” Eve said checking her phone. “Oh no,” she grunted quietly seeing her group chat with the boys explode. She was getting so many messages in such a short time. She was grateful for having the chat on mute.

“This year will be really interesting. We will receive exchange students from Tenebrae, Accordo and Niflheim…” the principal finally announced, earning a few eager handclaps. “And also we will be hosting the University Athletics Championship in here!” He finally earned applause loud enough to be called an applaud. It was still pretty lame.

“Seriously?” Caitlin asked staring at the podium with glazed eyes.

“Oh, that championship will be a tough one,” Eve mumbled, scrolling down the fiery chat. Prompto and Noctis were on about some girl’s dress and Gladio was throwing some wild guesses in.

“Hopefully there are hotties among them,” Caitlin said in a hopeful tone and Eve smiled lightly.

Prompto shared the same opinion with Caitlin, at least he spammed the group chat with thoughts of exotic girls with Ignis throwing weary emoticons in response. Eve put the phone away to focus on the principal’s rambling.

“It’s finally over!” Caitlin yawned and stretched her arms upwards after they had the chance to exit the hall.

“When do they actually shut up?” Eve groaned, holding her vibrating phone on her hand; her group chat was on fire again and Caitlin giggled gleefully in response.

“Maybe you should take the vibrations off too, unless you like it,” Caitlin said with an impish smile and flashed her eyes. That didn’t really leave any questions of what was going on in her dirty mind.

Eve rolled her eyes and sighed. “So what’s up now?” she asked.

“Well I won’t be having a class until this Thursday,” Caitlin said biting her lip. “So I guess I’ll go home and chill.”

“We have so much free time compared to last year,” Eve agreed. But it would only mean that their courses would be harder and more time consuming.

“Yeah, it’s almost weird... To have time to do things,” Caitlin said looking up to the sunny sky. Eve chuckled at Caitlin, who was enjoying her freedom. “Well I’ll head home. So see you later?” she asked Eve.

“Sure thing, I’ll head home soon too!” Eve waved Caitlin off and took her phone again. “Where are you guys?” she typed hurriedly to the group chat.

“We’re stalking Iggy,” Prompto texted.

“You think I wouldn’t notice it?” Ignis answered.

“If you think Iggy is doing something out of ordinary, you’re all wrong,” Gladiolus wrote. “No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend.”

“C’mon guys…” Prompto wrote adding frowning emoticons. Eve couldn’t hold back her smile. The thought of Noctis and Prompto trying to shadow Ignis sounded hilarious.

“Don’t be so mean to Prompto,” Eve typed with a grin on her face.

“See? Eve gets me,” Prompto wrote.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” Noctis said, adding a smirking smile to his text.

“So the party tonight? I’m bringing a friend with me,” Eve wrote wanting to change the subject. They always teased each other, so it was nothing out of the usual for her to interrupt.

“Eve’s bringing a gurrrrllll,” Prompto wrote.

“I didn’t know Eve knew any girls in here. Bet the party is stuffed with older chicks anyway,” Gladiolus wrote, adding a thumbs up emoticon.

“So Gladdy likes it older…” Ignis wrote.

“Gladdy is like Prompto. They notice a pair of boobs and they’re gone. Except Gladio actually scores,” Noctis texted.

“Prompto has a long way to go, if he wants to get those ladies,” Gladio said. Eve could almost hear the amusement in his words. It was cruel, but true.

“I might surprise you with my new skills I learned this summer!” Prompto answered with furious speed, “The party is at that huge building in the Tonberry Street, starting at 8pm.”

“Meet you there,” Eve answered biting her lip, and wondering what dress she should wear for the night.

#ffxv fanfiction #ffxv oc #final fantasy xv #ffxv #caitlin felineia #eve leonis #noctis lucis caelum #prompto argentum #gladiolus amicitia #ignis scientia

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redditnosleep · 7 years

Text

The Suicide Orphan

by Cymoril_Melnibone

I’ve long been fascinated by internet horror stories and creepypastas. I was young and impressionable when I stumbled across my first; Jvk1166z.esp, a story about a video game mod that went eerily wrong. That tumbled me down a dark and narrow rabbit hole into The Russian Sleep Experiment, then further lost me in the cryptid wonderland where all those other internet classics live. No matter how unsettling the story, I really wanted to believe it. At first, I wanted every single detail to be true. Later, I came to most relish the tales that seemed to contain one or two real ingredients, liberally seasoned to please the palates of the audience. And there was a growing envy that rode along with my fascination; I wanted to wield the spices, to be just like those infamous writers. I wanted to create a viral sensation that would sweep across the internet and make people’s spines tingle and burn with genuine, inescapable fear. The kind that really makes you feel alive. But first, I needed to find the raw, true heart for my recipe. I began to pore over old newspaper articles, looking for weird things in my area. I sifted through mountains of garbage online, looking for a tasty kernel of truth hidden within the bland layers of unappetising urban myths. But inspiration eluded me, and I started to lose interest. As adulthood took hold, it slowly began to strangle my childish ability to believe there was some wild truth running around out there, despite never finding any footprints. I was almost ready to admit that perhaps the world was far more mundane and uninteresting than I’d ever imagined – and that every one of my treasured stories were in fact just marvellous fictions, all pretty frosting and no cake. Then, like a horrible gift dropped right into my lap, I chanced to overhear two nurses at the local hospital talking in hushed whispers about the mystery of The Suicide Orphan. How could I not do everything in my power to find out more?

I’ll spare you all the dusty details about how I came by the information I have. Most of it was uncovered by boring hard work; ordinary journalism and archive delving. And I’m not proud; when that fails, I’ve found that there’s very little information you can’t dig up if you use some natural and enhanced advantages. In my case, honey-blonde hair, a splash of bright lipstick and a short skirt. The real story begins in the 1970s, when a young couple, Danny and Susan Johnson, prematurely birthed their second child. They named her Catherine. The baby grew quickly and was soon healthy enough to come home, where she was doted on by her elder sister and her parents. She was bright and happy, apparently escaping any disadvantages of her prematurity; she began to speak at 18 months, and started to read by the age of four. The first tragedy struck the family when Catherine was in kindergarten. The elder sister, Sarah, was found hanging in her wardrobe, a pink plastic skipping-rope looped about her neck. Emergency services were called, but the nine-year-old girl was not able to be resuscitated. As you would expect, the family was devastated. They cooperated with the police and the coroner, and endured a protracted and gruelling investigation into every aspect of their lives. No evidence of foul play was ever uncovered, and the ruling on Sarah’s death was left inconclusive. Either it was accidental, or it was a rare child suicide. Everything slid rapidly and predictably downhill for the Johnsons from there, with the mother falling into black depression frighteningly fast, and the father drowning his own pain in a bottle. The date on the second ambulance report is barely six months after the one on the invoice for Sarah’s headstone. Susan Johnson was found in the family garage, her asphyxiated corpse as pink as a child’s skipping rope, a side-effect of carbon monoxide inhalation. The car was still idling, with a hose from the exhaust pipe pushed through a crack in the window. The grim trifecta of paperwork is complete two months later, when Danny Johnson successfully hanged himself in the very same garage, a sawhorse kicked out from underneath him, and his wife’s perfume heavy in the air. With no other living relatives able to be traced, Catherine Johnson became a suicide orphan.

The Walders were her first foster family. They were experienced in caring for children from difficult circumstances, loved her to pieces, and did everything they could to heal the poor girl. Only five, she barely understood what had happened and why, so she adapted quickly. I found one of her first school reports, buried amongst random papers in a forgotten box beneath the Walder’s house. It paints a bright picture of an exceptionally gregarious child, a little girl who made friends easily and was radiant in her happiness. All seemed to be going very well for Catherine and her new parents. She’s all dimpled smiles in the photograph of her cuddling the kitten she received on her seventh birthday, and certificates and trophies suggest that she was something of an athletic prodigy, outrunning every other girl in her district. There was not a single warning sign that anything was wrong for Jenny Walder, the foster mother. According to the archived reports, she had appeared completely normal, right up to the day she was found in her bathtub, the life seeped out of her into the deep crimson water. There were no hesitation marks surrounding the long, definite cuts in her wrists from where she had opened her veins. The foster father, Michael Walders, survived his wife for another nine months before he succumbed to catatonic depression and was taken to a mental health facility. He didn’t move nor speak for the next six weeks, so none of the staff appear to be sure how he got onto the roof. The leap from the fifth floor shattered his skull into nine separate fragments, and his life ended in a concrete parking lot. Catherine was left utterly alone for the second time in her short life. She was put into state care while another family was sought to take care of her.

Now, this is the point where the rumours really start. The pool of prospective foster families was much smaller thirty-odd years ago, and it was becoming difficult to keep her history from the community. People back then were superstitious enough to be very leery of a child with so much death in her past. Families long noted as being eager for a child, any child, abruptly change their tune when it is revealed that the child being considered is Catherine, the suicide orphan. People were beginning to speculate, very quietly, that Catherine herself was to blame for the five deaths. I like to think that there were others who shushed them and told them not to be so crude and cruel. A pair of childless atheists, Melissa and Tony Lipsey, finally accepted the girl into their care and instantly fell in love with her. Melissa was an aspiring writer, who kept long, detailed journals of her life and experiences. After some convincing, her family let me read a few of the ones concerning Catherine. Their existence seemed idyllic, with no great calamities afflicting them, only the very ordinary hardships of family life. Psychological support was provided for the couple and the child from the day Catherine entered their home, and appears to have been quite careful and thorough for the time. Right up until the point of her suicide, Melissa’s diary spoke of love and hope and great plans for their new daughter when she grew up. Indeed, Catherine was excelling in every aspect of school life, and had even been moved up a year. The final entry in the notebook is uncharacteristically short, and contains one curious sentence about feeling ‘empty’. For no reason that anyone could fathom, on that date Melissa and Tony Lipsey drove their car to the river, then walked into the water, fully clothed and hand-in-hand, and drowned together. It was ruled an accident, but anyone who knew about Catherine knew that was a lie.

Nobody wanted to adopt her after that. Ten years old, she languished in a state orphanage, other children coming and going. She seems to have made the best of it; her tattered, photocopied file repeats the same phrases as reports from her early life; she was a child who smiled easily and often, was loved by the other children, and she never caused any trouble. She educated herself, borrowing great piles of books from the local library, clearly reading well beyond her age, and engaged the facility’s staff in thoughtful and philosophical conversations about her plight. Anyone close to her appeared to like her, yet heartbreakingly, she seemed to understand exactly why nobody wanted her. The first staff suicide – that of Catherine’s primary caregiver – sparked a panic, and half of the orphanage workers refused to come to work the following day. Children were quickly shifted to other facilities in nearby cities, and the place was temporarily shut down. Catherine knew precisely what was going on and asked several times to ‘just be let go’. She said she didn’t want to trouble anyone anymore, that she would find a place in the woods and live on her own. She was interviewed and re-interviewed by law enforcement and by psychiatrists from her temporary, solitary room in a juvenile holding facility, until no-one had any questions left to ask. The conclusion was rational, and completely sensible. It was not this child, but the mythos following this child, that was the cause of the suicides. Catherine should be provided with a new identity and placed anonymously in another home on the other side of the country, and then the suicides would stop. Unfortunately, this conclusion was also completely wrong.

Tracking Catherine became difficult at this point. I eventually managed to find her again when a fellow student, her school teacher, and her new foster parents all killed themselves within a few months of each other. She was fourteen, and must have been very much aware what that meant. When she was taken into custody, she fought like a demon and required two male police officers to restrain her. There is a curious note in that police report, stating that those officers ‘received injuries’ but Catherine’s later medical examination showed no injury at all to herself, not even a bruise. She was placed into inpatient psychiatric care. The breezy, bright child with the easy smile does not appear in any more of the reports I was able to obtain; she was gone. The teenage Catherine is clearly deeply disturbed, and any trace of her personality was probably medicated away. The range of psychotropic drugs they managed to dose her with is extensive, despite some odd notes in her charts from this time. Initial attempts to administer heavy-duty sedatives by injection are simply recorded as ‘unsuccessful’, and followed by a recommendation for ‘oral medication only’. But pills must have been enough; with ‘the suicide orphan’ locked away in a psych ward and a chemical straightjacket, anyone would assume that was an end to the bleak trail of death that Catherine Johnson left wherever she went. And with a high turnover of overworked staff, there wasn’t much risk of anyone getting attached to the young woman. Some of the inmates in her facility were found hanged or dead from self-mutilation, but, well, it was a place for crazy people – that sort of stuff happened all the time. No more connections appear to have been made. But on August 3rd, 1991, two staff members deliberately overdosed on patient medications and several inmates escaped using the keys of the deceased. Amongst those that escaped was Catherine Johnson.

She was smart, once the drugs left her system. Much smarter than the others, who were all caught in a matter of days. I think Catherine probably cut and dyed her hair and hitch-hiked as far as she could get, as there are no sightings of her despite bulletins and flyers. The trail of documents was cold for a long time, and I expanded my search wider and wider, hoping to find the lost thread of her existence. And I had one grisly card up my sleeve; even someone as smart and resourceful as she was couldn’t do anything about the one thing that made her trackable: everywhere she went, people killed themselves. Unfortunately, suicide is more common than you might first think, so the background noise is extensive. People kill themselves every other day, for all kinds of reasons. A seemingly happy father of three will take a shotgun into the shower and blow his brains out, even though he was recently promoted at work, and his life seems perfect. After reading far too many of those stories, I did eventually find her carrion footsteps. Leading out west, a neat line of unexplained suicides which pointed to the forested mountain wilderness – the common factor that drew my attention was that each of the deceased owned some sort of supply or convenience shop. I contacted the library near Catherine’s teenage orphanage, posing as a family member to access her library records. My suspicions were confirmed; since she was ten years old, she had been researching outdoor survival and how to live self-sufficiently in the wilderness.

I’m really not much of an outdoors person, but the heady prospect of finding the mythical Suicide Orphan was too much for me. I probably overstocked on supplies and safety gear, but I didn’t want to be caught short in poor weather. With an expensive GPS machine and enough food for a month, I started searching the mountains for Catherine Johnson. I suspected I was on the right track when I started finding increasing numbers of dead animals. Although that’s not unusual in the wilderness, the corpses became very regular, mostly intact, and quite fresh. Birds had seemingly fallen from the sky mid-flight, as though their tiny hearts had simply given up. Further on, dead rats and larger mammals marked a sort of grisly perimeter around Catherine’s isolated bolthole. The first sign was terrible and stark, a white board nailed to a tree and splashed with faded red paint. “STAY AWAY OR ELSE” it read, like the warning on a child’s treehouse. There were more signs as I pushed through the scrub, bearing similar imprecations. Each of them threatened some kind of violence, without being specific. Eventually I saw a crude hut through the trees, and painted on the door in that same naïve hand were the words “COME INSIDE AND YOU WILL DIE”. I knew what was going on here. Catherine blamed herself for the deaths of everyone around her; she had done so since she was very young, and she didn’t want it to happen again. By isolating herself in the wilderness, she believed that she could avoid bringing any more death to other people. And if she didn’t have anyone who cared about her, she couldn’t lose anyone she cared about. I had walked in Catherine’s appallingly sad footsteps for so long, that at this point I really did care about her. And I was no longer thinking about what that meant. Perhaps, having spent my whole life looking for that kernel of truth, when I found it, I didn’t want to believe it. “I’m coming in,” I declared loudly as I pushed open the door.

She sat by the stone fireplace, a small figure lost in a chair made of carefully woven branches. Dark hair was piled up on top of her head, tied in place with a frayed scarf. Inside, the hut was tidy and clean, meticulous care evident in the orderliness of the piles of split logs and the fur-covered furniture. She seemed to know immediately that I wasn’t there by accident; that I was not some lost hiker or hunter who had stumbled into her hideaway despite the warning trail of animal corpses and signs. “I should have moved,” she said without preamble, turning her gaze towards me. Her face was too youthful, she looked like a twenty-year-old. “I should have stuck to my plan and moved to another place in the wilds, to stop people like you finding me.” “Well, I’m glad I did find you,” I replied weakly, unable to stop staring at her. I felt strangely uneasy at how young she looked. She was almost twice my age, yet somehow it felt quite the reverse. “You won’t be,” she said simply, with a small and solemn shake of her head. There was a tense, pregnant pause, then she glanced at the iron kettle hung over the fireplace. “Would you like some tea? It’s mostly mountain herbs, but it’s hot.” Not knowing what else to say, I simply nodded. The tiny hut should have been cosy, yet I was cold. “Tell me how you found me.” And so I told her the same tale I’m telling you now. I laid out all my clever discoveries from end to end as she poured tea into fired clay cups, the sharp scents of mint and pine suffusing the air. She was silent while the account unfolded, but would sometimes nod, confirming a snippet of information when I sounded uncertain. At other revelations, she bowed her head and averted her eyes as though ashamed – but she never interrupted. When I was empty of words, she finally spoke. “So. You wanted fame. That’s why you sought me out? You wanted to tell my story to the world and become a sort of television celebrity.” Her voice was layered heavy with undisguised contempt, and I felt the colour rise in my cheeks. “I guess so,” I mumbled. My stomach twisted, hollow, despite the tea. “Well, now you have your story. You found your Suicide Orphan, and everything about her is true. Wherever I go, death follows.” It was my turn to be silent for a long moment; what could I say to that? But I needed to ask. I needed to be sure about one more thing. “I have a question,” I said finally, my voice dull in my ears. She shifted in her chair, placing one hand on the rough-hewn table. “You want to know why I never killed myself,” she stated flatly. “Yes.” A knife hung from her belt in a leather sheath, and with a well-practised movement, she pulled it free – stabbing it cleanly through the hand resting on the rough wood between us. I shrieked in alarm, and reflexively jerked away, the wicker chair nearly tipping me onto the floor. As quickly as she had drawn the blade, she yanked it free; leaving a deep cut that glimmered white tendon, then welled dark with blood. She raised her wounded hand in the air, and I watched, disbelieving, as the vicious rent in her flesh knitted immediately, like some kind of claymation. It left not even a whisper of a scar betraying where it had been. “Poison doesn’t work, either,” she said, calmly wiping the knife clean on her sleeve, “even deadly nightshade only gives me a tummy ache. I tried a pistol once, but the bullet bounced right off my skull and made a mess of my crockery.” The knife was rehomed in the scabbard and she gave me a wan smile, “I’d bury myself alive, but I’m too frightened of spending an eternity screaming into the lightless dirt.” Another long silence followed as we sipped our cooling tea. I drained my cup and stared at the dregs of grey leaves, their green all boiled away. “I’m going to die, aren’t I?” I asked. It wasn’t really a question. “Of course you are. What other possible outcome did you think there could be? Did you really think just because you were the one to find me, you’d somehow be immune? That caring about the truth would save you? That’s not how real life works, I’m afraid.” I swallowed, fear swelling like an ugly bubble inside me. “How does it happen?” “It will start as an ineffable feeling of loss, like you’ve misplaced something important. The emptiness grows inside your breast, then invades your head until it gnaws at all your thoughts, tainting everything good with poisonous doubt. Eventually the yawning nothingness within will be so complete that you’ll have naught left to live for, and you’ll end your life.” “So there’s nothing I can do.” She leaned forward and grasped my head in her strong, dirt-rimed hands. “You can do exactly what you were going to do all along, but not for yourself. Tell your story. Write out your little electronic letter and send your ‘creepypasta’ all around the world. Tell people that this horror is true – I am real, and that if anyone comes near me, they will die.” She let me go, the intensity fading from her eyes. “Now leave me. I can’t stand seeing yet another human being die because of me.”

And so I guess I got my wish. I hope you enjoyed my little story, because it’s the last one I’ll ever tell. I can already feel that void inside me, widening, growing, feeding. It’s grey and it’s cold and it’s deeper than space. I’ve tried as much as I can to stop it – therapy, medication, immersing myself in dizzyingly happy music and distracting myself with books and films – but everything seems so hollow, so trite, and so utterly pointless now. Nothing feels real any more. I’m not exactly sure how I’ll do it, but I think that somewhere in my old things from my childhood, there might be a pink plastic skipping rope.

Yes, that seems real. That feels right and true.

#author: Cymoril_Melnibone #creepy #horror story #trigger warning

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skinnedhearts · 5 years

Text

and so, he begged

Wamu convinces Anzu to join his band for a quick practice in hopes of landing a permanent (and highly needed) guitarist. Anzu is just really gay.

The mask on his face felt uncomfortable. Nimble fingers toyed with the thin straps tight against his skin and the outer shell of his ear. Anzu fumbled with the cloth, two minutes later, he accepted defeat. Thin mask lowered and tucked under his chin, Anzu leaned back against the school's bricked wall and slipped three gummy worms into his mouth. Slowly, he chewed the candy. From his spot (an emergency stair case smacked between the chemistry lab and the music room) Anzu had the perfect view of the outskirts of the baseball field and the complete layout of the school's fancy tennis courts.

A practice session was in play.

Anzu doesn't care for the sport, he found it dull and quite pointless…His eyes are glued to the first court where a player rolled his shoulders and fixed his stance. Green curls of hair hugged his face, his unreadable expression made Anzu frown. The distance blurred the details and it would continue doing so until Anzu gathered the courage to infiltrate the tennis' benches. For now, he settled for hard to distinguish actions and ant sized scenes.

Picking a red and yellow gummy from the plastic bag in his hands, Anzu chewed on the worm's head and promptly slurped it down like a noodle. Absorbed in his daily activities, he hardly noticed when a skinny boy waltzed up the stairs and plopped himself down two steps below. It wasn't until the boy cleared his throat that Anzu lowered his head, a green gummy hanged from between his lips.

"Hello! My name is Wamu!" Wamu eagerly greeted, "You don't know me! But I know you!"

Anzu arched an eyebrow. A row of dreadlocks slid from his shoulders and hugged his handsome face once he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, "Do you now?"

"Yup!" nodded Wamu, "I've seen you around and er-" Wamu's forehead wrinkled in hesitation, "…Heard things about you."

Intrigued, Anzu's lips twitched upwards, "All good things?"

"Not entirely." Wamu solemnly admitted before he perked up and beamed from ear to ear, "But I'm not here to talk about shitty rumors!"

Scrambling closer, Wamu scooted up a step, and then another, until he was seated besides Anzu, who blankly stared at the flamboyant boy. Once he was settled, Wamu stretched his short legs out, tipped his head back and basked in the warm sun.

Silence filled the space between the two boys. Above their heads, the limbs of a tree trembled and as it swayed in the breeze, sunlight slipped between the leafs and branches. Illuminated spots of light danced across their shoulders, legs and shoes. The chirps of an army of cicadas drifted through the warm, summer afternoon and there they sat, in a shared, short-lived silence.

Unbothered by the newly (and unfamiliar) obtained company, Anzu slid another gummy worm into his mouth, frowning slightly when he noticed the plastic packet running low on candy. Savoring his last gummy, he found his attention drawn back to the courts. The green haired tennis player stood surrounded by teammates and Anzu didn't have to be near by to know he was joyfully laughing.

"Where's your guitar?" Wamu finally asked.

"Home." Anzu dryly answered.

"You always have it with you though!"

"Not today."

"Why not? You practice up here, don't you."

Anzu would've found Wamu's extensive knowledge regarding his personal life troubling if it weren't for the rumors circling their school, because really, Anzu had heard them all before: He's a drug lord, a thief, a murderer, a low-life, dirt-poor bastard, a part-time model, a homeless bum, a playboy, a plagiarizer…The rumors go on and on, most gravitate around fear or admiration and some held more truth than others.

While he could speak out and address the hushed whispers, Anzu preferred not to. Clearing his name meant acceptance and acceptance led to unwanted friendships. Of course, every once in awhile, Anzu would cross paths with red-cheeked girls, who shyly bowed their heads as they bashfully twisted their fingers through their hair and unloaded heart felt confessions of love…All which Anzu would turn away with a simple word: Nah.

After, came the bomber jacket cladded jocks, with their toothy grins and worn out insults, all which were ignored by Anzu. His brother, Kiel, had said it was borderline harassment, something Anzu had dismissed with a shake of his head.

The ugly words, dirty glares and mocking laughs didn't bother him; the world is much too loud, they're all so small and Anzu's head is stuck in cotton candy clouds. Half of the time, he's swimming in a lake of drugs, the smoke drips from the point of his teeth and the edge of his tongue, it's thick and blinding when pressed against his skin…His peeling skin, or at least, Anzu felt his skin recoil and later expand like the shedding of a snake. It's partly the drugs and when it's not, it comes down to his fragile immune system and aching body. He's always in pain, it always hurt, it always stung…

"Anzu?" Wamu's bright, pink eyes blocked his view.

Though Wamu's face was uncomfortably close to his, Anzu kept his distaste under wraps.

Next, came the weirdos, the over-the-top, friendly, weirdos. Besides Wamu, there was a blue haired boy who loved to shove plates of food in Anzu's empty hands. The blue haired boy would giggle as he cheerfully explained his mistake: Oh, I made too much food again! It's really good! You should try it!

Anzu saw right through the boy's white lies, he knew what the other was up to, he could almost taste the pity and sympathy leaking from his wide smile…Anzu accepted the food with a nod and moved on.

However, Wamu wasn't here to offer him food.

"I practice when I have time." Anzu said.

"Aaaaand…You're busy right now?" Wamu sang.

"Yes."

He's not busy. His favorite past time involved the soft hum of his guitar, the vibration of chords under his fingers as he fully focused on the green haired tennis player in the distance. There's inspiration behind Micah's fluid movements…There's art behind his curly hair, freckled skin and skinned knees…There's a song hidden on his bottom lip and there's untold lyrics in the dip of his hips. Perched on the stairs, those far off stairs, Anzu watched as his crush bared his teeth and ripped his heart apart with a swipe of his racket, because at some point, the tennis ball was replaced with Anzu's bleeding love.

"You don't look busy to me." Wamu insisted with a lopsided grin.

Finally, Anzu forced his gaze away from the tennis courts and onto Wamu's eager face, "What do you want from me kid?"

"Kid?" Wamu wrinkled his nose, "We're in the same grade!" When his question was met with a bored stare, Wamu cleared his throat and continued onto business, "I know you're really good on guitar!"

Anzu shrugged, "That's just a rumor."

"But I've heard you play at the tattoo shop, you-"

A growl vibrated in Anzu's throat, "How do you know about the tattoo shop?"

Completely unphased by Anzu's sudden display of emotions, Wamu carried on, chipper as ever, "My older brother has loads of tattoos! We recently made an appoint at The Heartstained Room, don't you remember me?" he asked, wide eyes as round as buttons, his head fell to the side, "We talked for a bit!"

Again, Anzu shrugged, "Shop's always packed."

"You were cleaning your other guitar, the electric one, and I asked if you'd ever be down to play in a band and you, um…Shrugged."

"Sounds about right."

Wamu puffed out his cheeks, "Well," his voice shook and slowly, it regained its confidence, "Join my band!"

"You're…In a band?" Anzu asked, disbelief lacing the question.

"Yeah!" Bouncing to his feet, Wamu fist bumped his own chest and posed, "Don't I look like your typical lead singer?"

No, Anzu had not bothered to take in Wamu's appearance when his vision was filled to the brim with crispy clean, white, tennis uniforms and brand name sneakers. As Wamu stuck his leg out and stretched his arms above his head, Anzu's eyes skipped from Wamu's dirty combat boots, his ripped, skinny jeans to his faded, black leather jacket with too many buckles and rounded studs to count. His hair was decorated in bright, streaks of pink which made him look too much like a colorful skunk.

Anzu leaned back, his uninterested tone tore through Wamu's sparkling aura, "I ain't into the techno bizz."

Wamu's mouth fell open, he gasped and stomped his foot, "We are NOT a techno band! We're a rock band! The best of the best!"

"What's the name?"

"..Huh?"

"The name of your band."

"Oh! That's…" Wamu hanged his head in shame, "We don't have one…YET!" The 'yet' was said with an excited shout as he brought his fists to his sides and hopped about, "We'll have one soon though!"

"Sounds real fuckin’ messy."

"It's not!" Wamu reassured Anzu with a big, dazzling grin, "We're really good! We just can't decide on a name."

Anzu nodded, "Cool."

Wamu's smile broke into a pout, "So?"

"So what?"

"Will you join us." Wamu hopefully asked.

"Nah."

"Pleassseeeeeeeeeeeeeeee….Pretty pleaseeeeee, join us for one practice! You can judge us yourself."

Anzu collected the empty plastic bag, now void of gummy worms, and threw it into his bag, "I ain't got the time to be playin' made believe rock bands with you and your friends."

With the simple rejection out in the open, Anzu collected his belongings and stood, but before he could take a step, Wamu wrapped his arms around his left leg. Like a drowning man, the small boy clung onto him, head angled upwards as distraught inked his pleading face, "Anzu…pleaseeeeeeee we need you!"

If Anzu had doubted it before, there was no question about it now: Wamu was one-hundred percent one of the weird ones.

"I ain't bullshittin' when I say I don't have the time-"

"It won't take long! Just a couple of songs!"

"I don't-"

"ANZU PLEASE!" Wamu exclaimed, "PLEASE I'LL DO WHATEVER YOU WANT!"

"I don't want anythin'." Anzu calmly replied.

"PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEE. I'll hold on for as long as I have to!"

"I have to get to work kid. Can't be late for that."

"Guess I'm coming along!" Wamu said as he hugged Anzu's leg tightly.

Anzu rolled his eyes, "…You’re actin' like a brat."

"…I know but…" Wamu's eyes twinkled with tears, "This is important to me. Come on, there must be something I can do for you in return."

Tugging his mask over his mouth, Anzu then cursed his weak body…Wamu was a small boy and if Anzu wasn't currently aching and coming down with the flu for the 3rd time that month, he would've picked Wamu by the collar and placed him aside. Seconds away from kicking Wamu off, the distance glee of a cheer caught Anzu's attention. In the tennis courts, Micah celebrated the end of perfect practice game. The tennis player threw his shirt off and used it to wipe his sweaty face. Anzu's skin burned. Swallowing down an awkward hitch in his voice, Anzu then addressed Wamu.

"Are you friendly with the tennis team?"

"Yes, I know most of them." Wamu blinked his innocent eyes, clueless to what Anzu had in mind. Anzu previously noted how oblivious and stuck in his own world Wamu tended to be and while it was annoying, it had it's charming strides.

"What about their captain? You know him?"

"Micah!? Of course I know him! He's pretty good pals with my best friend!"

"Your best friend?"

Wamu nodded, "He's our drummer! You'll like him!"

The drummer, all he needed to do was talk to the drummer…A plan fell into place inside Anzu's head.

"Cool. What time do you want to meet up?"

Wamu's eyes nearly popped out of his head, "A-are you serious!?" Much too caught up in the moment, Wamu didn't question why or what had made Anzu sing a different tune, "W-whatever time works for you! We practice every night after school so we're all free whenever you want to drop by and-"

Anzu cut Wamu off, "How about tomorrow?"

"Yes! Yes! Tomorrow is perfect!" Wamu released Anzu's leg and instead hopped up to wrap his arms around Anzu's waist, "Thank you! Thank you so much!"

Anzu allowed the boy to squeeze him tightly before he lightly shoved him away,

"Aight, knock it off or I won't show up."

Not having to be told twice, Wamu stepped aside and continued spewing a storm of thank yous. Even when Anzu made his way down the stairs and disappeared around the corner, Wamu continued to drown him in gratitude.

#Wamu #Anzu #Static Heart #mentions of one sided flowermask

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