#|| the music box starts playing a soft tune : music ||

[thesleepyfable]

~ SWTD: Still Here AU Part 28: ~

Someone to Dance With:

Okay. The real last chapter of season 1. Anything between here and season 2 are going to be Still Here 'What if...?' which include other characters if they were infected.

Whilst everyone had turned in for the night, Trots was taking his time putting the chairs away. Simon watched from the porch with a knowing look, forgetting to light his cigarette. He knew what his man was doing. Distracting himself from whatever was on his mind. He hid it well during the darts game and beers he drank, but now it was all he could think about. What also gave it away was how slow he was being. Trots, who wanted things to be tidy and in order as soon as possible, so he wouldn't have to see the mess, had taken five minutes to put away four camping chairs he insisted on doing.

Putting his cigarette back in his pocket, Simon approached.

'Am I still on the naughty list?' He asked.

His hands floated up Trots' arms before resting on his shoulders, followed by him resting his head. Trots sighed and took one of Simon's hands.

'I wish you didn't say that.'

'What? That you dance?' A small nod in response. 'It's nothing to be ashamed of, Johnny. You're a wonderful dancer.'

'I know, but that's not it.' Trots moved to turn and look at Simon. He still held his hand. Simon reached up with the other and gently played with Trots' ear, making him tilt his head. 'It's that I cannae do it anymore.'

'What makes you say that?'

'Fucks sake, Simon,' Trots huffed, yet managed a small laugh. Simon knew he wasn't mad. If he was, everyone in a 10 mile radius would know. 'Look at me. How can I ever dance again?'

'You'll never know until you try.' Moving his hand to stroke his face, Simon took a step back. He moved towards a small radio perched on the top step. Sneaky bugger had brought it outside. He clicked the button and tuned the channel to emit classical music. The one they danced to together for the first time. Trots couldn't lie. It made him feel special.

In his usual dramatics, Simon offered a hand, like Prince Charming at the ball. Trots accepted with a worried smile, not having much hope. Simon didn't hesitate and pulled his lover to his chest. 'We'll start slowly, okay? I'll lead.'

With his left foot, Simon took a step forward, leading them into a simple box step. Trots awkwardly followed, moving back. Simon moved his right foot outwards. Trots followed. A tendril shot out into the snow to keep his balance. A wave of embarrassment came over him. He let go and held his head in his hands, hunching over himself. More tendrils shot out to keep preventing him from falling head first into the snow again.

'No. No. No. I cannae do it.' But Simon was undeterred.

'We only took two steps.'

'You only took two steps.'

'One more try, eh?' No answer. 'Just think about the first time you showed me.' Simon waited for a reaction. After a moment, which included taking a deep breath to clear his mind of anxiety, Trots adjusted himself. His right hand laced with Simon's before resting the other on his shoulder. Simon softly smiled. 'Top man. Here we go.'

Simon repeated his first steps. Trots moved in sync. The tendrils shot out, acting as his legs. The infected man lowered his head but didn't push away. He felt Simon's grasp tighten in support. A sign to not give up. It calmed his breathing.

They continued in a box step twice over before rotating in a counter clockwise motion. Back into a box step, but only performed half of the move. A quarter turn to the left. These moves were slow and basic but stemmed from a core memory...

'Ah. Sorry. Sorry. I should have told ye, I have two left feet.'

'You're doing a lot better than most. We can stop if you want-'

'And end our date early?'

'This is a date?'

'Oh, it's not?'

'Aye. Yes it is. One more try?'

The snow crunched under feet and tendrils. The music, composed with a soft piano and violin, filled their ears. Trots looked up at Simon, where before he would look down to him, his eyes finding comfort. Simon could feel Trots discover his confidence again, taking the lead from him.

A warmth rushed through them, and their minds went back to their first date. A shared memory. Was it The Shape inside Trots doing that?

Their breathing deepend and their hearts raced. The now and then clashed. The warm. The cold. The indoors. The outside. Yet the music was the same.

The sound of snow became their feet dancing on the wooden floor of Trots' living room. The fire glowed, aiding the dim lamps that stood in the corners. The smell of freshly baked bread filled their noses. Their pace quickened. Both straightened their posture. A focused look in Trots' eyes.

1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3. Cross body lead. 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3. Hesitation step. A clockwise cross body lead. 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3...

The music built to the crescendo.

Trots felt his back slam against the house, but he didn't move away. He pulled Simon towards him. They closed their eyes and kissed. Their hearts continued to race. Simon wrapped his arms around Trots and pulled him closer. Trots ran his hands through Simon's soft hair. Music filled their ears. After so long apart, they didn't want to let go, but time eventually caught up to the pair as the song began to slowly fade out. Simon pulled away first. Their cheeks were pink. Chests and shoulders moved with each breath. Neither had noticed they'd held their breath for so long.

Simon cupped Trots' face. They both moved and rested their foreheads together. Trots wrapped his arms around his lover and moved in for another small kiss.

'See?' Simon sighed. 'You're a wonderful dancer.'

'And you're a wonderful teacher. Thank you.' They shared another moment together, swaying softly on the spot and stroking each other's face. 'Let's go to bed.'

'Tired?' A nod. 'Okay.'

[happy74827]

Bittersweet Moments

[Peter Maximoff x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Your best friend (if you’d even call him that), is an annoying piece of work 99% of the time. But that 1%? That 1% is pretty special.

WC: 1513

Category: Fluff, Irritated!Reader, Mentions of Migraines

My first Evan Peters fic? Lets go.

『••✎••』

Being friends with that white-haired speedster meant you never had a moment of quiet. The guy was just so fast that you never had a second to blink without him pulling a prank on you, which is why you were constantly on edge around him. You could never trust him.

But that didn't mean that he didn't have his moments.

You were on the floor, eyes shut, attempting to fade the raging migraine out. You made your room into a dark cave and had been there all day, and yet, the pain in your head only grew.

By the time you heard your door creak open, you already felt the presence and the air in the room shift. It was almost like a ghost was floating through the doorway.

"No." The voice was quiet, and the sound was barely audible.

The soft footsteps stopped, and you opened one eye, seeing the blurred white figure. Your vision was blurry, and everything was doubled, but you could make out the face.

"You locked me out." The tone wasn't accusatory or playful. It was a soft, concerned tone that made your chest squeeze.

You rolled your head back, trying to look up at him.

"Sorry," you croaked. "But I’m also not sorry. I needed the silence."

"Yeah, yeah," he said dismissively. He crouched down his hand landing on your arm. His skin was cold against yours. "I know you secretly look forward to our little hangouts."

"No, I don't," you grumbled. "And I especially don't right now."

"Can’t even handle my presence without getting whiplash? Man, I must be really awesome."

You could faintly make out his smug smirk, and it made you snort, only worsening your headache.

"Just..." You waved your hand at him. "Get out. Leave."

He, in fact, did not leave. Instead, he stood up and went over to your bed.

You watched him in confusion as he took off his shoes, and then, with a quick flash of light, he was beside you once again, a blanket suddenly wrapped around him.

"Wh-" You were cut off as the blanket was draped around you, and you found yourself pulled up from the ground.

Peter's arm slipped around your shoulders, and he led you over to the bed. He pulled back the covers, and you climbed in, still unsure of what was going on.

Once you were in bed, he pulled the covers back up, and before you could say anything, his headset was ripped from your dresser. He placed them over his ears and lay down beside you.

He looked at you and nodded his head, giving you a thumbs-up.

You just stared at him, completely confused, but his gaze was unwavering. You let out a sigh, deciding to just roll with it. You were too tired to deal with Peter's bullshit anyway.

You rested your head on the pillow and shut your eyes.

A few moments later, a tune started playing, the music filling your ears. Not the loud, classic rock he usually blasted, but a soothing acoustic.

"You’re a fan of the Beatles?" You asked, surprised. You fluttered your eyes only to see Peter's face correctly. He looked like he was in deep thought. And with the soothing music from his Walkman (that he obviously lent to you) and the quiet, you couldn't help but feel a small tug on your heart.

He shrugged. "It just felt like the right song for the mood."

"Meaning… me dying?"

"Oh, stop being dramatic," he rolled his eyes. "Your little brain is just confused from having a devilishly handsome man lay in bed with you."

"You do realize I’ve had this for days now, right?"

"Alright, so, a devilishly handsome man around you. Is that better?"

"I can’t believe I let you in here," you grumbled, closing your eyes once more.

"Don't lie," he said, a little louder than usual since the music was loud in your ears. "You know you like my company—that and my box of sweets."

What box of—

Your eyes opened, and you looked up, seeing him holding a box of chocolate-covered almonds. Your heart did a flip.

"Is this... " You reached for the box, and he handed it to you.

"They're the good stuff. None of that cheap candy crap."

"Wow, you eat something other than Twinkies? I'm impressed," you teased, taking a piece and popping it into your mouth.

"Hey, don't hate the Twinkies. You ever try them with ice cream? It's great. It's like cake, but it's not, ya know? They're just so squishy, but the flavor is there."

"Uh, ew?"

"What, are you some fancy girl? Too high class for my delicious desserts?"

"Yeah, that's exactly it," you laughed, shaking your head. You rested your head on the pillow again.

"Whatever," he chuckled. "Eat your expensive ass almonds. I had to pay actual money for those, and I'm pretty sure Hank's going to notice they're gone."

That made you sit up despite the pounding in your head. "You stole them?! Oh my god, what's wrong with you?!"

"What?" he looked at you innocently. So I stole a box of chocolates. Big deal. The guy's rich. He never notices when I swipe his food. He'll just assume he forgot to put them away or something."

"Ugh, you are such an ass."

"You say ass; I say awesome."

"No," you said, putting another almond into your mouth. "Ass."

"Alright, fine. But, hey, look, who’s still eating the stolen chocolates?"

"Yeah, well," you smirked, taking another one. " Technically, I didn’t steal it. You did. So I can have a clear conscience."

"Ah, I see," he grinned. "Well, in that case, have another. Grab as many as you want. My treat."

You stared at him. "Okay, who are you, and what did you do with Peter?"

"What?"

"This," you gestured towards him. "All of this. You're never nice."

"Well, when you've had a migraine that's lasted for three days, you kinda learn to have a little empathy for that person."

"Three days?" you said, shocked. "Wait, how did you know the exact amount of time?"

"Don’t let anyone tell you you’re just a pretty face… I’m an all-seeing god, remember? Nothing can get by me."

"Except when Apocalypse broke—"

"Okay! Okay, I don’t need to relive that, alright? Sheesh, you're worse than Raven."

You grinned, taking another almond.

"Thanks," you said sincerely.

"For what? Comparing you to the blue lady? Anytime."

"No," you rolled your eyes. "I mean, for not pulling a… well, you. I really do appreciate it."

"Does this mean you’re leaving the Batcave? If we're getting sappy, then I should probably head out. I don’t want to risk my rep."

"You and I both know you have no reputation."

"True," he smiled. But hey, a guy can dream, right?"

You laughed, shaking your head. You were about to lay back down when he spoke up again.

"Actually," he said, looking at the ceiling, "there is one thing I'm good at."

"What's that?"

He didn't say anything. He just stared at the ceiling.

"Pete?"

His head whipped around to you, and with the same speed, he was leaning over you, his face inches away from yours.

"Peter, what—"

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to your ear, and the comment you were about to say died in your throat.

"I can shut up."

The sound of his voice, so soft and low, sent shivers down your spine. He pulled away and gave you a quick smile.

"Just something to think about," he said, and you could see the red tint on his cheeks. He sat up and stood in front of you before you could say anything else.

"You can give the Walkman back whenever, so, uh, don't worry about it. Anyway, I gotta get going. You know, stuff to do and snacks to eat." He turned towards the door. "Anyway, feel better. Later."

And before you could comprehend what had just happened, he was gone just like the wind.

You sat in your bed, still feeling the phantom feeling of his breath on your ear.

And ironically, the pain in your head was starting to fade.

So, yes. Despite him being an annoying little shit, he did have his moments. Genuine, quiet, caring moments. And it always made you question whether or not he was secretly a clone.

You were still staring at the door, your mind running a mile a minute.

But then, as if he could read your thoughts, he peeked his head back into your room.

"Oh, and if you tell anyone about this, I'll tell everyone you're a huge Star Wars nerd."

He vanished, and a second later, he was back once more.

"Also, I definitely didn’t steal that Walkman from a certain someone, so, uh, have fun with the mixtape!"

With that, he was gone.

You rolled your eyes and laid back down, putting the headphones back on.

"Ass."

You will definitely be visiting the white-haired speedster tomorrow. He may have his moments, but that doesn't mean he doesn't deserve some good old-fashioned payback.

[libraryofgage]

I realized Steve is absolutely that kid whose parents put him through piano lessons solely so they could have another way to show off at parties and shit. And then that thought morphed into a little Steddie plot bunny and here we are lol:

Steve doesn't know it's the last time he'll sit at the grand piano, the last time he'll press down its keys and let music fill the empty room before bleeding out into the empty house.

He doesn't know that when his parents next come home, his mother will notice how horribly out of tune the instrument is. He doesn't know that it will be sent off somewhere for repair (his parents won't tell him where, no matter how he asks, and he'll never quite understand why) and lost to him. He doesn't know his parents won't bother buying another one; it was only ever there to impress party guests when Steve sat down and played some Bach. Without those parties, company or otherwise, there's no point in getting another one: both the piano and Steve will have outlived their usefulness.

He doesn't know that he'll be storing away his sheet music, carefully placed into folders and in a waterproof box for safekeeping. He doesn't know that he'll soon become too consumed by high school and dating and monsters to idly write down notes on a staff. He doesn't know that when he's swinging a nail-ridden bat in the future (to destroy monsters, sure, but destruction is destruction, right?) he'll ache with the pain of missing the act of creation as a means of stress relief.

He doesn't know any of that, so Steve sits down at the grand piano with a soft smile, gently trailing his fingers over the keys before lining them up in the Middle C-position. He runs through a few warm-ups, letting muscle memory take him away, so he doesn't have to think. Without another thought, he seamlessly transitions into idly playing, bits and pieces of everything he remembers and songs he's heard blending together.

Mozart's Air morphs into Beethoven's Fur Elise into Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody. It doesn't all sound good together, but that's not the point when Steve plays by himself. All that matters is letting his brain shut off for a bit, letting the notes and echoes mingle together to create something new and joyful.

After two hours on the piano, his wrists are aching; he always forgets to hold them in the proper position when he plays alone. But it's a good ache, one that reminds him of the music still dancing around in his brain.

Steve takes a deep breath and slowly releases it, feeling the last of his tension dissipate. He lets his hands linger on the piano for a little longer before standing and leaving the room, tragically unaware of his imminent and unavoidable loss.

--------

Steve is sprawled across an old couch in Gareth's garage, reading Eddie's well-loved copy of Lord of the Rings. He'd promised to at least give it a go, and he had to admit he was looking forward to finally understanding some of the references Hellfire Club and the kids make. His progress is slow, but he's almost halfway through after two weeks of work. Reading while Corroded Coffin practices helps; the background noise of their music is perfect, letting him ignore all other sounds and focus.

Of course, that's provided they actually play continuously instead of starting the same song over and over only for Eddie to stop them halfway through. When it happens for the sixth time, Eddie growls in frustration, tugging harshly at a lock of hair. "It still sounds wrong!" he cries, dropping into a crouch while cradling his guitar close.

"Stopping us halfway through isn't helping," Gareth points out, idly twirling a drumstick as he watches Eddie's lament.

"Do you know what's wrong yet?" Asher asks.

Steve can longer focus on Lord of the Rings. Instead, he places the book on his chest and looks at the band to watch how this plays out. Eddie scowls and looks up at Asher. "Unfortunately, Ashy Baby, no."

Jeff, meanwhile, has locked eyes with Steve. And because Jeff knows the perfect way to get Eddie off their asses is to get him on Steve's instead, he says, "Why don't you ask Harrington what he thinks?"

Eddie whips around to look at Steve, eyes wide and hopeful. He doesn't even bother standing from his crouch, instead waddling his way over to Steve and testing his ability to hold back laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of the sight. "Stevie, baby, sweetheart, lover boy, please tell me that wonderful brain of yours has an idea so your favorite boyfriend can finish this rocking song."

"You're my only boyfriend."

"Which automatically makes me your favorite," Eddie points out, grinning as he leans closer. With Steve still laying down, Eddie's the perfect height in his crouch to kiss him. He lingers for a few seconds before pulling away, and Steve knows his own smile matches the dopiness of Eddie's.

"Have you considered adding a piano?" Steve asks.

"None of us know how to play," Asher says, and Steve would look at him if Eddie's face and hair and shoulders and everything weren't filling his entire line of sight.

Without thinking, Steve hums and says, "I do."

"Do what?" Eddie asks.

"Know how to play piano."

There's a silence that follows his sentence, one that makes Steve's stomach lurch as he wonders if he's maybe fucked up the shaky peace and friendship he's finally managed to build with the other members of Corroded Coffin. He doesn't know how his words might have done it, but he's scrambling to somehow take them back when Eddie slaps a hand over his mouth, the bands of his rings pressing against Steve's lips.

"Gareth, you still got that keyboard?" he asks, keeping his eyes locked on Steve. There's a light dancing in them like he's just discovered magic is real, like Steve has amazed him beyond imagination.

With a grunt, Gareth gets up from his drums and steps into his house. The rest of them stay in silence while waiting, Eddie refusing to remove his hand no matter how much Steve licks his palm. When he finally gives up and just glares at Eddie, his boyfriend grins brightly back.

"It's a little dusty, but it'll work fine," Gareth says when he comes back, and Eddie finally moves his hand and body, allowing Steve to see Gareth setting up a keyboard a few feet away from his drums.

"Okay, sweetheart," Eddie says, taking the book from Steve and carefully setting it aside before pulling him off the couch, "you've heard the song enough. Play what's missing."

Steve hesitates before walking over to the keyboard. Eddie sticks to him like a shadow, sliding his arms around Steve from behind once he's standing in front of the white and black keys. An odd nervousness churns in Steve, tugging at his spine and making his palms clammy, but he knows it would be much worse without Eddie there. If he had to play in front of the band without feeling like anyone was on his side, he'd probably just throw up instead.

"It, uh, it's been a while," he says quietly, easily falling into the muscle memory of tracing the keys and finding Middle C and dancing his fingers through warm-ups despite his words.

Eddie squeezes him tighter as Jeff asks, "Since you've played? Why?"

Memories of his grand piano rise in Steve unbidden, overwhelming him in a rush of longing for the instrument itself and the relaxation of playing. "My parents paid for lessons and had me play at company parties. They, uh, sent it off to be tuned, but it got damaged, and they didn't get another one."

"That sucks, Stevie," Eddie murmurs, soft and reassuring and Steve suddenly feels far more confident.

He looks up at Jeff. "Can you start playing again?" he asks, flashing a grateful smile when Jeff nods and starts strumming the song's opening notes.

Steve listens closely, breathing in the tune he's heard so many times and letting it take hold. He doesn't allow himself to actually think, letting Jeff's guitar and Eddie's arms and hair and scent drown out everything else. Before he knows it, he's playing a hesitant tune that grows with confidence as he follows the song laid out before him. He's always a measure behind, chasing the guitar's echoing notes as they fade.

He and Jeff make it through the whole song without Eddie telling them to stop. When the final notes of guitar and piano echo together, the latter still chasing the former even at the end, Steve is shaking with excitement and anxiety and grief and joy.

He lets out a slow breath, feeling tension he didn't even realize had lingered for so long finally draining from his shoulders and dissipating. Steve can also feel Eddie's face pressed against his neck, a smile searing into his skin as Eddie squeezes him even tighter.

"I love you so fucking much, Stevie, that's exactly what was missing," Eddie says, his words the only warning he gives before pulling Steve away from the keyboard and off his feet and spinning him around. His surprised yelp quickly morphs into laughter that still lingers even after Eddie has set him down again.

Gareth and Jeff and Asher have already started discussing how the other parts of the song might change with the addition of a keyboard, but Steve is too busy turning in Eddie's arms and kissing his smile away to pay them any mind. He can worry about inevitably being roped into the band's practices later, after he and Eddie are breathless and flushed and smiling bright.

[babyleostuff]

your smile | JEON WONWOO

summary | reading date with wonwoo in the comfort of your shared apartment

genre | fluff

word count | 871

pairing | jeon wonwoo x gn!reader

"What should we listen to?" Wonwoo asked right as you walked into the living room with a book in your hand.

"Whatever you feel like. I chose last time." A moment later soft tunes of your favorite album started playing, and along with the LED lights and a couple of candles it only added to the cozy feeling your shared apartment had.

This little act of your boyfriend - putting the music he knows you like, even though it's his turn to choose, puts a small smile on your face, making you even happier than you already were.

Having an afternoon for yourselves, not worrying about work or any chores, you both decided to have a stay at home date, with food and books.

Wonwoo already had his gaming live today at the company, so you didn't have to worry about your boyfriend bailing on you mid chapter and gaming his ass off until dawn, which was always a nice thing.

"Do we have everything?" he wondered, taking a seat next to you on the big sofa, which was now covered with fluffy blankets and lots of pillows.

"I'm just going to grab something to drink, so we don't have to get up later. Oh, and we need chopsticks. Anything else?"

"I don't think so,"

"Okay, I'll be right back."

As much as you loved going out with Wonwoo, exploring the city, going to nice restaurants or simply taking a casual stroll by the Han river, nothing would ever top your at home dates.

Being both so comfortable with each other - no fancy clothes, no makeup, no pressure to look your best and no stressing about being recognised by other people. You could savor the comfortable silence, each with a separate book and your feet in his lap.

A barefaced Wonwoo with his glasses and an oversized t-shirt was just a bonus to all of this. He's really the definition of boyfriend material.

While in the kitchen, beside drinks and chopsticks you grabbed extra snacks for Wonwoo, as he always likes to have something to munch on while reading. In addition you also grabbed an apple juice box, one of the many sitting in your refrigerator.

Quickly making your way back to the living room, you couldn't help, but admire your boyfriend for a second. He was sitting comfortably under one of the many blankets, his glasses at the tip of his nose while he was smiling at something on his phone.

Seeing him so happy was like a cup of tea on a winter morning. Without a doubt, him smiling was the best thing in the world and seeing him do it so often in these past months was the biggest dream come true.

He is one of the strongest people you know, but even he couldn't always hide his sadness and pain, so seeing him getting his happiness back is everything you could've asked for.

"Everything alright?" suddenly you were pulled back to reality, by Wonwoo's gentle voice, that so often lulled you to sleep.

"Yeah, just zoned out a little. Here, your gummies," you handed him all of his snacks along with a water bottle and a set of chopsticks.

"When did you get them? They weren't there in the morning."

"I saw you eating them in your live today," you explained. "So, I decided to buy some. You always like to snack when you're reading and gaming."

Wonwoo usually saw himself as a very stoic person, who was good at controlling his emotions, but you always proved him wrong.

His gaze turned to the softest expression known to mankind and he couldn't help himself but kiss the side of your head in a loving manner as a thank you.

Not being able to resist your boyfriend's sweet action, you put your hand at the back of his head, running your fingers through his short hair, that made him look so adorable when not styled.

"How much of the book do you have left?" he asked, as you both snuggled under the warm blankets.

"I think I'll finish tonight."

"Will your next book be a little bit more, how to say, intellectual?"

"Jeon Woonwoo, stop making fun of my book," you laughed and hit his arm repeatedly, though you doubted he felt anything.

"Not my fault my childhood was based on Wattpad, you dumbass." He laughed and shook his head in a playful manner.

"Sorry not everyone can be as smart as you, Mr. I-know-it-all. " you huffed, putting your bookmark at the coffee table. Not saying anything more, he simply put his arm around you, pulling you closer to his side.

Moments like these made you feel so safe and loved. Wonwoo may not be the most outspoken person when it comes to his emotions, but he never made you doubt yourself in any way.

Everywhere you went, you knew you could always count on him, he was there to keep you safe, protected and happy. The simple touches and small acts of service was all you needed.

So, as you both sit in the living room, each of you in a different fictional world, keeping each other warm, you knew that this was how you'd like to spend the rest of your life.

[casuallyanidiot]

Moon Waltz [Yandere M. x Gn. Reader]

Made this around a year ago for a Halloween writers collab on Quotev

There are a lot of amazing one shots from authors there, and there's another collab being planned for 2024 if y'all would like to check this out. The theme was Childhood stories, and I chose to base my entry on the theme of music boxes.

On Halloween night, you fall into a strange world and with an even stranger man inside of it. He says he can bring you home by the next full moon, but things start to become odd when you find yourself becoming part of the world too...

Tw. For confinement, blood, manipulation, long post

26k words

Music boxes had fascinated you as a child, specifically the more detailed ones. The kind that had pretty little porcelain figurines on top and flowers painted onto the sides were your favorite. There was something about the looping melody, the softness of the whole the, and the spinning little people living out their lives in complete bliss. You loved it, and often you would imagine yourself carrying out the rest of your life just like that. In hazy daydreams and bouts of pretend, you could pretend that you too were made of glass and covered in delicate gold foil, twirling to a lovely tune.

Of course, as a kid, your parents didn’t really trust you with actually owning any of these admittedly very breakable objects. In fact, after being caught playing with any music boxes in your house a few times too many, your parents had decided to pack them all up in places you’d probably never be able to find them. The ballerinas, fairies, and princes were all packed up in layers of Styrofoam and plastic, sealed away in some closet that your younger self was always too afraid to peek into for some reason. 

Still, you loved the music boxes, and you begged your parents to let you hear them, let you look at them and imagine, to create stories and lives with a simple set of notes and fine china. So, from then on, any time you did good in school or for any other sort of special occasion, your parents took one out for you and set it onto the coffee table. You would sit there, a ball of energy and nerves, patiently as a child could as your mother wound up the music box as far as it could possibly go and place it down. She’d walk out of the room, just within earshot in case you decided to be a bit too rough with it and leave you to your own devices.

You have fuzzy memories of those moments. The sun would be fighting through the cheap curtains, making the room all hot and humid. But the light was pretty, and from where you pressed your little face onto the table, you could see the specs of dust floating around in the air, taking the center stage under the spotlight of sunbeam. And while you dreamed of dancing with porcelain figures, the soft plinks of the music would thrum out. With each note, you could feel the table slightly vibrate, and you along with it. After rewinding it countless times, one of your cheeks would tingle by the time your mom came back to fetch it.

And she would rewrap your little ornate world back up, and place it back until the next time you did something that warranted such a moment of unbridled peace.

It had been years since you were that easily satisfied, though. Now, you were more interested in other things, things that a college aged student you ought to be concerned with. Namely, the bonfire that was going to be held tonight by the lake.

The October air was chilly to say the least, and you watched from the window with mild interest as a few brightly colored leaves were swept up into the dimming eve. You weren’t really trying to take in the scenery of twilight tonight, it just kind of happened to be that you were so bored out of your mind that you had started picking up on the little things again. In all actuality, you had been keeping an eye out for any trick or treaters still roaming about. There had been a steady stream of kids skipping down your street to pound on your door, but they had all seemingly disappeared as soon as the sun even began to set.

When you were a kid, did you ever head in that early? You could have sworn that you had stayed out at least past this point in the evening, but your mom had always made it a point to hand you a flashlight and trail close behind while you ran around, so it wasn’t like you really had that much freedom back then. If you had gone out by yourself, you would have imagined her demanding you back less than an hour after you’d go out.

But anyways, there hadn’t been any kids in a while which was good since the little pathetic candy bowl you had was pretty much dried up. When your parents left the previous day, they had pointed out the two bags worth if treats that they had bought in preparation for all the trick or treaters, but you just had to guess that either they were largely underestimating how many people came up to your surprisingly secluded house at the end of the road, or they had been skimping out on these poor children.

You shook the plastic bowl, bright orange with a jack-o'-lantern style face by the way, and stepped away from the window. Guess there wasn’t much left to do tonight. The house was tidy, most of the candy was gone, and it was late enough where you could call it quits and turn on some cheesy movie to pass the rest of night in peace before you went to bed. Pretty uneventful, but hey, you had done what your parents had asked of you. You flipped off your porchlight, the universal signal to any would be trick or treaters that you would be handing out nothing, and slumped down onto the old, plush couch set up in front of the T.V.

You sighed as you lazily flipped through some channels and streaming apps, before settling on some low energy movie and snuggling into the mediocrity of the cushions. 

If it sounds like you weren’t having a pleasant time, it would be, well because it was the simple, honest and sucky truth. To put it plainly, you had been a bit of a loser in high school. Not very many friends, not the best grades, and hardly any joyous memory for your youth either. It sucked, but you managed to get into a local community college. It was there that, for the first time in what felt like forever, you had started having a social life. We’re talking classmates inviting you out to lunch, going on spontaneous car rides with people for no reason other than to hang out, goofing off in convenience stores, and finally getting decent grades once again. It had been so long since you had felt this accepted, this welcomed by people your age. 

It was wonderful, to be honest. All that time in high school you spent imagining yourself in better scenarios, ignoring your hurt, and convincing yourself that you were fine with the solitude that being a bit of a social outcast brought you had made you miss truly feeling like you belonged. You didn’t know when you had stopped feeling like that in the first place, but now that it was back, you didn’t want to do anything that would risk this new life you had been building up recently. 

So far, everything had been going pretty smoothly, and even your rather protective parents seemed to recognize how badly you needed this, how much happier you had been since you actually started making friends. And even though you were technically a grown adult, they gave you their permission to go out as much as you wanted. It had changed your relationship with them slightly, too. No longer was it you asking them to allow you to go out, but simply stating where you were going to be and a rough estimate of how long you'd be gone. The only thing they had requested of you was that you turn on your location so that they could see where you had been or where you were. For safety of course.

So, when your friend who you had been gradually growing closer with had invited you out to an annual university bonfire by the lake, that was right by your house mind you, you were ecstatic. This was your first real party! Sure there would probably be some alcohol there, but there would also be a large amount of people attending as well. It was an event that was widely known among the youth of your area, and it had been held many years prior to this one. Everyone knew about it. It was safe, and it was an opportunity for you to enjoy Halloween with your new social circle. You were excited, to say the least.

And then… your parents said absolutely not. The “My house my Rules” rhetoric was strong throughout their refusal, and you had to admit a bit of defeat there. After all, they let you live in your childhood home after high school rent free. Seeing as they had already booked a small trip out of town for the day of and week after Halloween, they didn’t want you going out without anyone to look out for you. Not wanting to argue any further, you grit your teeth and accepted the verdict.

But now, on your couch, you scrolled through your phone and all the messages expressing disappointment but understanding that you couldn’t attend, a new determination grew within you. You were grateful that your parents were so concerned about you, but this was a chance for you to live a little! Besides, the location of the bonfire party was close  to your home, and you had traversed the nearby woods enough times to be confident in your ability to not get lost. You sat up confidently before shooting a friend a text in the large group chat.

Actually! I can come! I’ll see you there!

Immediately, your phone began to blow up with excitement at the news. You knew of your shy reputation, and you also knew that many of your friends were ready to get you out of your shell, to help you try new things, to let you do whatever and have fun all the while. You smiled to yourself and giggled. Yeah, you were giddy, but who wouldn’t be? For the first time in your life, you were going out into the night hours. For the first time in your life, you were going to rebel. 

You giggled shamelessly as you threw on a thick, warm coat and a comfortable pair of shoes that would do a decent job of carrying you through the woods. An infectious smile played on your lips as you rushed to grab a flashlight and a pair of bunny ears that your parents had left you as a sad excuse for a Halloween costume on the dining room table. You shoved the cheap mess of felt and plastic on your head before practically skipping towards the back door. Your phone was still nestled in the back pocket of your pants, and you were suddenly aware of what you were about to do.

Your parents, who had only forbade you for concerns of your safety… Did they really deserve this? Did they deserve this blatant defiance of their wishes? Of course not, but hey, if you left your phone at home, then they probably would be none the wiser to your absence. 

So, you went back to the couch and set the device down gently. Your mom would definitely be freaking out the second she noticed that your location had been turned off, then your dad would probably start calling you nonstop. At that point they would call the cops to the house and your ass would be found out. So, the best option would be just to leave it here and hope nothing too crazy would happen tonight on your way there. Hopefully you could get a ride on the way back, though.

You left the T.V running on low volume and left out the back door to venture into the woods. There was a big, infectious smile on your face and a pep in your step while you wandered off to meet your friends. This was going to be great!

This, as it turned out, was not as great as you had hoped it’d be. You frustratedly kicked a branch out of your way while groaning.

  “ Ughhhh, there’s no fucking way I’m this dumb,” you said as you stomped through the vague path made by the few people, mainly kids, that would wander through whatever particular section of forest you had wandered in. Yeah, that’s right. You, in all your excitement, had gotten lost. Who knows for how long, because you didn’t bother to bring a watch or anything with you.

The dark wall of trees loomed over you mockingly. Its colossal mass of leaves and bark blocked any view of the moonlight struggling to stream down, and you felt this crushing weight of fear that had not been there moments before. Your stupid, horrid confidence had tricked you into thinking that this was a good idea (part of you still believed it was), and now you were at the mercy of whatever lurked in the brush. 

Wind curled chillingly around the bodies of wooden figures and cut directly into you. Your fingers had begun to grow numb from their lack of protection, and you brought your hands up to cup the warm puffs of breath you let out to prevent fall frostbite. Your eyes, holding back tears of frustration, stung with the nothingness of the night. It really was too dark to make your way back home at this point. The path you had taken had gotten tangled up like a spool of cheap yarn, and you weren’t sure that there was a way that you could safely find your backyard again, much less your intended party. 

In your wallowing, your gaze fixed upon a faint glimmer from between the trees. It wasn’t particularly bright or dazzling, but the haunting void of the woods offered you no greater comfort. Even if it wasn’t anything grand, a clearing of some kind would be better than staying where you were. I mean, if you were already lost, then why not spend the remainder of the evening looking up at the stars? It was a weak motivator, but honestly the paranoia of the canopy was too much for you to bear. Who knows what was hiding in them? 

So, you stumbled about for a little longer. The tip of your shoe caught on roots that jutted out above soil, and your clothes snagged on whatever stray twig reached out, but eventually you arrived at the source of silver shimmer that you had spied.

It was a little clearing, serene and silent save for the rustle of breeze upon the otherwise still water of the pond. The moon, which you could finally see now, shone merrily on its surface. The reflection bathed everything in bright gray, a stark contrast to the utter darkness you had been struggling through for what felt like eternity. More than just the moon, you could make out the constellations stretching across the night without any interruption. 

You could hear no frog croak, nor the faint humming of bugs. The only thing that reached your ears was your own stilling heartbeat as you decided to rest against a fallen log. Truthfully, you were exhausted. The adrenaline of getting lost had taken a lot out of you, and you held little hope of actually getting out of this stupid forest until the sun rose. Part of you wondered if your friends would think it was strange how you hadn’t showed; You really, really hoped that they wouldn’t call the cops to do a wellness check on you or anything. You would definitely get busted if that happened. 

You groaned in relief as you sunk down to the ground. The cold and damp soil pressed into the lines of your hands, and you cringed slightly at the feeling. You would be super uncomfortable for the rest of the night, but that was just the price you would have to pay for being dumb. Though, as shitty as this situation was, the pond was kind of nice. I mean, it was almost glowing in a way that you would see in a pretty oil painting that had all of the brushstrokes still visible. It wasn’t the body of water you were looking for, but it was still nice. You appreciated the peace it brought you in that moment. 

As you sat there, trying to close your eyes and soak up your surroundings, you heard a very familiar sound.

Plink

Your attention was captivated by that single note. Your heart began to beat and ache for the hazy nostalgia it brought. You knew what it was. You had craved the exact thing as a child, and even now you yearned for the fuzzy warmth that you knew it would bring.

Plink

It was behind you, in the log. You sat up unbelievably straight and twisted to look through the rotting wood. You could feel small spiders and bugs brush up against your fingers, but you persisted. The soft notes rung out slowly, pathetically, begging you to wind it up so it could play to completion. There was a crevice where cold moss had filled in, and you reared your hands back like a snake before striking. It was a clumsy, exhaustion driven endeavor, but you knew you had to find whatever was making the music.

The tips of your nails bumped against something solid. Another note played. Another Plink; you had found it. With some weird sense of desperation you grabbed it and wrenched it out of its place. Your chest heaved with some anxiety as you held it under the moonlight. 

A music box, detailed and ornate like the ones you used to love. The glossy porcelain shimmered like it was made with the finest jewels, and you shakily gazed over the little figurines sitting together on a sculpted, crescent moon, smiling and sitting shoulder to shoulder in complete bliss. You laughed a little. How could you not? In the worst situation you had ever physically been in, you had found a small piece of joy in both the clearing and a trinket that a child version of yourself would have gone ballistic over.

There, on your knees with the dampness of the grass soaking into your pants, you wound it up. The little couple on the moon spun idly as you held it in your hands. There were bits of grime and dirt covering its surface, and you had to wonder how loved it had been. Was anyone missing it? If so, you hoped that they wouldn’t mind having the object find a new home. You knew that if any of your beloved music boxes had somehow managed to wind up in such an odd place, you’d be more relieved to find that it had been loved rather than ripped apart by mother nature. 

You could pretend there in that clearing with that soft tune, on a night made for pretending mind you, that you were anywhere else. That you were living a fantastical life full of romance, adventure, and surrounded by a kind of beauty that could only be found in little delicate pieces, painted with care and crafted to spark comfort. 

When the gears within had stopped turning, you found yourself more calm than when you had been frantically searching for a way back home moments before. It was funny how just a stroke of familiarity could ground you. You held up the music box once more to examine it fully, your eyes squinting with some effort. Still transfixed by it, you began to shakily stand up. You weren’t really sure why. Perhaps you wanted to just stretch out your legs a bit, or maybe you wanted to move around to get some more warmth back into your admittedly freezing body. It didn’t really matter as to why you stood, but as soon as your wobbly calves were placed under your full weight, you stumbled to the side.

You squawked out in surprise as you tripped and careened towards the surface of the pond. You held the little music box tightly, your hands automatically cupping around the figures, as you braced for the impact of cold, frigid water.

Instead, you were met with cold, rigid ground.

Shock raced through your veins as you bluntly landed on your side, all the air leaving your lungs in an instant. You couldn’t breathe. Your chest sucked in and in but nothing was happening, and your limbs flailed around wildly, searching for anything to help. You took in large gasps, certain that you appeared as a beached fish, while your vision blurred and you somehow managed to roll onto your back.

Your entire body felt like it burned, your heart was racing to the point it was painful, and the world was a blur of silver and black, but after a few moments of struggling to calm down and breathe properly, you were able to somehow feel alright. You didn’t feel like it, but you also weren’t suffocating anymore so that was definitely the better outcome. Your hands were shaking as you held them in front of your face, and you could barely focus on them properly. Beyond the tips of your fingers, you could see the porcelain box. It had rolled away after you had dropped it at some point. 

You groaned as you sluggishly reached for it, forcing yourself to sit up along the way. After briefly confirming that the object was okay and not damaged, you quickly came to realize one majorly glaring issue: there were no trees. There actually was nothing that even resembled the little clearing you were in. No rotting log, no moist grass, no pond. No, you were sitting on a brick paved path, the tile made a pearlescent white, shimmering as your gaze raked across it. You blinked slowly a couple times to make sure that you weren’t hallucinating, only to find a large gate before you.

How you hadn’t noticed it before, no idea, but what you could see plainly was its otherworldly beauty. Swirling white wood formed into a circle, Glowing bright in a way that resembled the shining pond. It resembled, to be frank, the moon. Your lips parted wordlessly. 

“What the fuck?” You whispered very confusedly. The more lucid you became, the more clear it was that you were no longer in the forest by the lake. You were, evidently, sitting in front of a gate that was attached to no fence, sitting at the end of a pathway. When you frantically turned your head, you were met with the sight of a sprawling complex of ornate buildings, all connected by covered wooden paths. The place was lush with plants and flowers, and lanterns swayed softly as they lit up their surroundings with a dim, comforting hue.

It was gorgeous, out of a storybook even, but it was, as you quickly realized, all in various shades of silver. What you presumed to be wood was a sleek dark gray, and anything else held the appearance of being bathed in… well bathed in moonlight. You tilted your head up quickly, and your breathing became rapid at the suspicion that had sneaked into your head. Up, there in the deep inkwells of the sky, were stars. Many constellations peppered the night like freckles, and they were clearer than you had ever seen before, even more so than earlier when you had arrived at the pond. It was breathtaking, but there was a lack of a certain presence that frightened you. There was no moon.

With that sudden realization, came a crashing noise. Your attention was snapped back to a lone figure standing on the path ahead of you, just before the complex. A tray laid by their feet, shards of shattered porcelain scattered about from what you presumed to be a cup, and the liquid held within it had spilled all over the ground. You were stunned, all the shock held within you being exemplified by the fact that standing before you was the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

He too was not exempt from the grayscale of this odd world you had entered, and his shining eyes had been surprised by your sudden arrival to his home (?). Neither of you moved from your respective spots, until an excited, infectious smile spread across his lips.

“ Welcome!” He spoke as he rushed forwards. He crouched down to your level, stretching out his hands and arms in a beckoning gesture. You curled into yourself a bit, the music box still in your hands. He faltered at your hesitation, the corners of his lips falling ever so slightly, and moved back. 

“ Uhm, forgive me. You must be frightened,” he apologized quickly. The rushed nature in his voice was not lost on you, and his kind smile was stretched too thin for you to really feel comfortable, but he was offering his hand out to you. On the smooth surface of his skin, you could see a desperation that was oddly familiar. Your quickly beating heart stilled slightly before you began to take in an actual good look at him.

He had silver eyes, reflective like the rest of the surroundings, framed by long lashes that you were sure touched his eyebrows. His complexion, a dark gray, was shiny like glass. You could see no blemish upon his exposed skin. He was as mystical as your surroundings. He was tall, with a lean and nimble build that showed with every movement he made. His hair was braided neatly, and you felt a twinge of both envy and awe at the way his locks fell below his waist.

Slowly, as if you might die if you actually touched him, you reached out and put your hand in his grasp. He laughed, softly and so quiet that you weren’t sure you were even supposed to hear it, and From there you were quickly pulled to your feet and tugged toward the complex of buildings. The man led you through the open halls, which were more confusing than you had originally gleaned, shooting you quick, joyful glances. The wooden planks under your feet creaked loudly, there was some faint rustling from the flora, and yet other than that, there was no noise. It unnerved you to no degree. You clutched the music box closer to your chest as your ears searched for anything other than the whispers of the wind. 

It was almost apocalyptic, like you had stepped into the end of the world.

Finally, after winding through the halls, he stopped at a room with a curtain for a door. He brushed the sheer fabric aside and pulled you in excitedly. 

“ Here, sit down. I’ll make you tea!” he insisted. He put a hand on your back and pushed you towards a dusty table. A little stove and sink was in one corner, and it didn’t take you long to identify this place as a little kitchen. You didn’t know what else to do, so you pulled out a chair and settled into it. He bustled about, hurriedly opening cabinets and getting everything ready. You watched him wordlessly, not really sure what to do.

It was obvious that this man was not expecting your presence here if the shattered glass, that he had left by where he found you by the way, was anything to go by. The odd appearance of this place combined with the way you got there in the first place confirmed that either you were hallucinating, or you had somehow gone to a place that was definitely not earth. Your stomach twisted into tight knots at the thought of that. 

The soft clunk of a teacup on wood brought you out of what was likely the start of a spiral, and you looked up to see the eager, smiling face of the man. The steaming cup was pushed gently to your side of the table; he sat opposite of you, watching intently as you stared at the beverage.

“ I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I made black tea. Do you need milk? Sugar?” He asked, already moving to get anything you desired.

“ Uhm, no, no. I’m fine!” you insisted. He sat back down quickly.

“ So uhhh, what is this place?” You cut right to the chase. You were too hopped up on adrenaline to really wait any longer. The pads of your fingers rubbed over the sides of the music box in a self serving manner as you swallowed nervously.

“ I will be honest, I’m not sure myself. I’ve been here for a while, though. I’m Samuel, by the way,” he said, and you raised an eyebrow. He seemed sheepish. It was like he was embarrassed about something small, like a pimple on your back, and not an entirely different plane of existence or wherever it is you were. 

“ Sorry if I seem…A bit odd. It’s been a while since I've, well, since I've talked to anyone,” he admitted. “ I’m terribly sorry if I've frightened you. You must be very confused.”

“Yeah no kidding,” you snorted out almost immediately. He winced at your grumbled words, and a pang of regret hit you. You uncrossed your arms. “ I’m fine,” you relented, “ just confused is all. I got lost and ended up here.” 

“ I see, could you perhaps recall what happened before you came here? It’s been such a long time since I arrived. I’m not even sure I can tell you what I was doing before I became part of this place,” he asked. 

“ What do you mean?”

“ I used to not live here. I was like you, and I used to roam as I pleased. This was a safe haven of some sort, and I kept returning until I felt as if I no longer wished to go back. That was ages ago, though. I can hardly remember it,” he explained. Odd, he looked only a few years older than you were. How long could he have been here to forget everything? Despite your concerns, you introduced yourself briefly and explained how you had strayed away from your path during the night. You briefly mentioned the party and took off your stupid rabbit ears that you were honestly surprised had stuck onto your head for so long at this point. You talked about finding the clearing and falling into the pond.

“ So yeah, that’s when I wound up uh by that moon thing where you found me. Here I am I guess,” you shrugged, not really feeling comfortable with his intense stare. The small little tidbits of information he had given you made it clear that the man was simply lonely. You weren’t exactly sure how long ‘ ages ‘ was, but you didn’t imagine that this little complex of buildings was a thriving social scene. You fiddled with the little figurines in your palms. The curve of the crescent moon fit into your palm like it was meant to be there, but they were starting to feel clammy from your nerves. You gently placed it on the table so you could wipe the sweat off of them, nearly missing the way he perked up.

“ Where ever did you get that?”

“ Huh? What do you mean?” 

“ Where did you get that? I’ve been searching for that for such a long time!” He exclaimed, reaching over to grab it. He snatched it up quickly, a large smile on his face. He held it up like it was a newborn baby, fondness etched into the structure of his face.

“ Oh, I found that before I fell into the pond,” you explained. Your fingers twitched, subconsciously you wanted to take it back.

“ Ah, I see. So it was out there… I would have been searching these halls for an eternity if it wasn’t for you. This is one of my most precious objects, you see.”

“ Oh, uh, you’re welcome I guess. Glad you could get it back,” you said, feeling a twinge of disappointment. The soft melody of the music box wasn’t something you could easily get out of your head, so you could understand his excitement at your discovery, but still that meant that you  were the one that would continue to remember that sweet song for who knows how long. Whatever, it was fine. You could probably scratch the itch by digging through an old closet at home and finding your parents’ collection. Speaking of which…

“ Uhm, how do I get home?” You asked. Your query seemed to break his joyous mood in an instant, his demeanor drooping like a kicked dog. “ I just, you know, I need to be back before people realize I’m missing. I’d, uh, yeah I’d get in a lot of trouble if my parents found out I snuck out,” you lamely explained. You hoped that he wouldn’t take you wanting to get the hell out of here wasn’t a reflection on his personality.

“ You wish to leave? Already?” You nodded, and he sighed sadly. “ I see. Well, it is a shame, really. I was quite enjoying our conversation. You seem like you have a lively character, and I’m sure that there are already people who miss your presence. I would’ve liked to further learn of your life and what it’s like out there right now, but that’s quite alright. Here, I’ll show you the correct way to exit this place.”

You felt relieved the second he stood up. Your cup of tea had barely been touched, and the pit in your stomach had become unbearable. Screw the party, screw Halloween, you just wanted to go and curl up in your bed, pass out and pretend that this whole thing had been just a very weird dream. You followed him out of the little kitchen eagerly, the tension melting away finally. After this, you’d probably be sore for days based on how stiff you were. 

“ I hope I’ve been a decent host. It really has been too long. I apologize for how…dysfunctional my home might seem. It really is beautiful, yet I find that there are simply too many rooms and halls for me to keep them properly tidy. I hope you didn’t mind,” Samuel chattered on as you approached the shiny pearlescent path that you originally arrived at. You considered his words briefly; they did make some sense. It would explain why the table had been so dusty even though he seemed sure about that being the first room he had in mind to bring you. It was only him though.  That gave the serene complex a lonely, melancholic air. 

You watched the way his locks fell down his back. They shone so brightly under moonlight that came from nowhere, and you felt a bit irked that you found someone so beautiful under such odd circumstances. If only you had met him at the party tonight. It probably would’ve only elevated the whole experience. Damn, if only you hadn’t gotten lost. 

“ Here we are,” he said softly as you approached the circular gate.

“ Does this really go back to Earth?”

“ I should hope so,” Samuel’s laugh was gentle and clear as a windchime. “ I mean this is how you got here. This is where I would go through any time I wanted to leave, when I used to do so that is.”

He reached a hand out, ready to go through the shimmering surface of the moonlike gate. His fingers grazed its surface, and his eyes widened slightly. He pressed his palm fully to it before turning to face you with what you could only describe as utter confusion.

“ What? What’s wrong?” You asked, concern clear in your demeanor. His gaze was pointed towards the ground, refusing to meet your eyes. “ Did it not work?” You gulped. At this point, you didn’t notice when exactly you did this, you had latched onto his arm a bit desperately. Finally, at this physical contact, you looked up to see his guilty expression.

“Ah, it, uh, it appears that we missed the window.”

So apparently, the gate that you had entered through only opened once a month on a full moon for a brief period of who knows how long. Samuel hadn’t been able to go through, so, because the universe loved you sooo much, you were stuck in this weird realm until when the next full moon rolled around, AKA, in a month. Basically you were stuck here. 

As pissed off as you were, there was really nothing you could do about it, so all you could do was really sit back and try to relax. Samuel had excitedly dragged you to show you more of the rooms in the complex. There were an incomprehensible amount of bedrooms, though you didn’t have much time to actually look at any of them properly before he had dragged you off to what he was most proud of.

“Here! You can have the room next to mine!” He had exclaimed as he threw open the door to an admittedly very nice bedroom. “ I’ll have to tidy it up a bit,” he remarked after you swiped your finger on the vanity surface and a coating of dust came up with it. “ I’ll rest here for tonight. You may take mine,” he stated. It wasn’t really an offer, more like a fact of the matter.

So you went to his room with a bundle of clothes Samuel had provided from a wardrobe. You had to shake it off for a little before you felt comfortable sliding into them, and they fit loose and baggy on your frame, but they were soft and comfortable so you didn’t particularly mind. You were alone for the first time since you had come here, and it was now that you weren’t swept up in the chaos of your temporary roommate's excitement that you were able to take in the true craftsmanship that was surrounding you. The furniture in his room was part of a set, the bed frame, desk, small armoire, chairs, and wardrobe all having vines and roses carved climbing up the surface of wood. 

It was lovely, and the curtains both by the small window and by the bed were a soft sheer silver, though you were glad that there was actually a door here. You weren’t sure that you would feel the safest if there wasn’t. Granted, there was no lock, but you’d rather have some kind of separation from a total stranger rather than none. There was a series of knocks, and you weakly called out,” Come in.” 

“ I came to make sure that everything was up to par,” he explained. “ Is everything alright? I mean, I understand that you’re not here under the most ideal circumstances, but I mean, is the room alright? I would like you to be comfortable.”

“ Yeah. It’s nice here. I mean yeah, you’re right this isn’t, like, ideal or whatever, but this is okay. Thank you for letting me stay here,” you said absently as you fussed with the sheets and pillows on the bed before sitting down. 

“ It’s hardly any trouble. There isn’t anywhere else to go,” he said pleasantly. “ Ah, I suppose I should leave you to rest. You’ve had an eventful night. Sleep well,” he said, hesitantly hovering by the door as he spoke.

“ Yeah, uh, goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He left after that. You managed to snuggle into the sheets without much difficulty. You had to admit, it was the most comfortable mattress you had ever laid on. It was like a dream, and you thought briefly about how you might actually be doing so. Part of you hoped that this was all some weird nightmare brought on by eating bad candy or something, and you were actually back at home laying on your couch. This was too elaborate, though. As you tried to fall asleep, you gazed at the pond and courtyard just beyond your window, watching as gauzy curtains floated on a gentle breeze wondering about what he meant that there was nothing else beyond here.

It hadn’t occurred to you the night before, but it turned out that the time here didn’t seem to pass the same as it did in the real world. When you had awoken, it was still night. When you left your room and asked Samuel, who was sitting in the courtyard by your door, about it, he had simply replied, “ That’s just how it is.”

He then asked you if you would like to help him clean up your room, and because you weren’t rude and would feel bad if you did make him do it all by himself, you agreed. He became elated afterwards, humming quietly to himself as he fetched some brooms, buckets, and rags from a small little closet down the hallway. 

“ I’ll make us some food soon,” he said, a smile settled on his lips, as he handed you a bucket. When he did so, his fingers brushed up against your own, lingering there for a few moments longer than you what probably would be acceptable. “ Do you, ah, have any preferences?”

“ Not really, just as long as it’s edible,” you laughed weakly, pulling away slightly. He nodded. 

“ I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.” 

The two of you got to work quickly. There was a thin layer of dust over every surface there. It made some sense; there was no need to hang out in a bedroom that wasn’t yours other than maybe for a change of scenery. Samuel made small talk with you as you swept, remarking on various items and books that he found while organizing things. There wasn’t much to be done really, the room looked as if it had been untouched for a long time. It wasn’t messy in the way where clothes and crap would be strewn around everywhere, but there were cobwebs that needed to be gone if you were gonna stay there for more than a night.

You had just finished up mopping the floors when the silver man paused in his dusting and suggested that you two finally take your break. You, running on an empty stomach, agreed pretty quickly. This led to you sitting in the open hallway outside of another small kitchen a couple doors down from the two bedrooms that were now being used. Your legs dangled over the side, your shoes brushing over the blades of shining grass. Behind you the soft sound of a wooden spoon scraping against a pan could be heard along with his humming. 

He had made you tea again, and this time you actually found yourself idly sipping it as a way to pass the time. It was peaceful here, you would admit that. Despite the large amount of skepticism you held, you had to acknowledge that as weird as it was, this was an okay change of pace. Yes, you would have rather spent your time doing assignments or strengthening your new friendships, but Samuel was nice if not a bit over eager, and there wasn’t anything inherently wrong with that. Maybe this was just a really weird way of making an equally weird connection with someone new. 

Plus, like you had noted many times before, he was insanely nice to look at. It was hard to not feel some small flutters in your chest when he looked at you like you were the only other person in the world, mainly because you actually were the only other person here. You were trying to not think about it too hard, though. You wouldn’t be staying here for long. Samuel handed you a small plate filled with eggs and rice with a pleasant expression.

“ It’s not very elaborate, but I hope that it’s enjoyable. I can make you something more flavorful at another time,” he said while taking up a seat next to you.

“ It’s pretty good,” you said after shoveling in a few mouthfuls, nodding with satisfaction.

“ That’s a relief,” he laughed. “ I’m glad that I don’t have to relearn how to cook or anything.”

“ Don’t worry about it too much. I’m not really a chef either. All I know how to make is some basic stuff like noodles. Oh, hey, that reminds me, where did you even get the stuff to make this?” You asked, gesturing slightly to the food. Samuel shrugged.

“ I’m not sure. It simply… appears. A Lot of items here just appear sometimes. There were times where I had to figure out how to use them correctly. Like the fridge. I’m not sure when it arrived or how, just that I had to figure out what it was used for. Some of my food just started appearing there from then on,” he pondered.

“ Hm, well that’s kind of cool,” you shrugged with a hum.

“ Yes, I suppose it is.”

Something that you noticed by your second day in the complex was that there was a lack of most modern technology. There were no radios, T.Vs, modern magazines, microwaves, computers or phones, landline or mobile, that you could find in the main building that you and Samuel were staying in. When you had brought this up to him, he had just stared at you with a slightly bewildered expression.

“ So you’ve never heard of a radio?” you asked a bit incredulously.

He shook his head. “ I’m not certain if I have. Perhaps you could detail it to me? It’s possible that I’ve seen one before,” he said earnestly, leaning over to you. 

The two of you had been sitting out on the lawn of the courtyard, just talking about various topics as they floated into the conversation. Your room had been cleaned out already, so now there wasn’t much to do but hang out. You had asked him if there was anything that he really had to do at one point, but as it turned out there weren’t any real responsibilities that came attached to this place. It was clear though that you were both interested in each other's lives, though, so getting to know each other was pretty high up on the list of things to do. 

“ Uh, never mind, It doesn’t really matter,” you laughed, waving off the whole technology issue. Samuel seemed hesitant to drop the subject, but then you started asking about other things, like how many rooms there were and if he had ever swam in the pond. Harmless topics like that seemed to bring back his excited chatter quickly, and the two of you continued on with your conversation. 

Though later, when you went to bed, you looked out at the stars and wondered just how long the silver locked man had been here exactly.

The third day you had woken up much earlier than Samuel, so you decided that it was time that you do a bit of exploring by yourself. He had shown you around the building your room was in briefly, you knew that there probably were more interesting things to be found in the other ones in the complex. You, in all your modern attention spanned glory, were curious and bored, so you quietly left your room so as to not disturb him and set out to check out the building that was closest to the gate. 

There wasn’t really anything out of the ordinary there other than the fact that it existed in this realm to begin with. It was different from the building with all of the bedrooms, though. There were more places that seemed suited for gathers of various sizes. From small, intimate rooms with couches, pillows and lamps that burned dimly to a large extended banquet table that could seat an impossible number of guests, It was clear that this space was made to house people. It wasn’t just this building though, it was the one with all the empty rooms. This place was supposed to hold life, and the fact that it seemed so desolate despite you and Samuel was a bit chilling. 

Still, you continued to look around, poking your nose into random closets and paging through books that were far too old for you to comfortably sit down and read them. Just like everything else there, there was dust to be found on everything. You had been thrown into a few hacking fits just by sitting down on a few dirty chairs, the upholstery pluming out with grime. 

Eventually, you stood in front of two doors, more large and ornate than any that you had seen previously, so of course you had to go inside. There was no way that you couldn’t, given the burning desire to just get up and do anything. So, you went in to discover, to your surprise, a library. Instantly, you recognized that this space must’ve been used by Samuel regularly, for one, there were signs of actual life everywhere. 

The shelves of the library went all the way up to the tall ceiling, and they were packed full of novels of all kinds of genres. There were scientific journals and romance volumes crammed next to each other, there were history books galore, and you even spied some copies of Shakespearean tragedies shoved next to poets that seemed to weave silk out of words. Your fingers ran over their spines, trying to decide if you actually wished to read something at the moment. It wasn’t like you were doing anything better, though.

Still, there were books strewn out on the tables, candles that had been melted down to the stub, and loose papers stacked into messy piles, even messier handwriting scrawled on their surface. Everything had this old, antique sort of feel to it, one that you would see people trying to desperately recreate online for the sake of living up to some aesthetic. You assumed that everything that was out of the shelves had been handpicked by Samuel, so you began to look through the novels.

As you did, a few trends became very noticeable. One, he seemed to be a sucker for romance. The books that he seemed to read the most, the ones with the cracked spines and softened paper edges were all stories of grand love. You hadn’t known him long enough to properly assess his character yet, but you wouldn’t deny that you could see him being of the tender hearted type, and these stories with prose that dripped with honey seemed to prove that. Not to mention, his writings were all poems that also seemed to focus on the concept of finding one’s true partner. He dreamed of it frequently, it seems. You put down the poems, feeling slightly uncomfortable with looking through something so personal, maybe a bit too late, but hey, you tried. 

Another thing that became quite clear was that most of the books and novels in the library had been published during or before the late 1800’s. You tried to think not too hard about the implications of that.

Eventually, you found a relatively easy read and settled in to really dig into the book on a comfy little couch that surprisingly didn’t have much dust on it. You had gotten maybe 20 minutes into it when you heard the sounds of hurried footsteps, slamming doors and your name being called. You jumped a bit when Samuel came bursting into the library, breathless and clearly just a bit frantic. You blinked at him owlishly as he panted like he had just ran a marathon. The second he caught sight of your tensed up self he let out a large sigh and seemed to physically crumple.

“ Oh good, you were here all this time,” he gasped out, a weak, trembling smile meeting his lips. He wobbled over to you quickly, and you could only really stare back at him.

“ Uhhh yeah, I wanted to see if I could find any books to read to, you know, pass the time. Is, uh, everything okay? You okay? Have a bad dream or something?” You asked with clear concern.

“ Ah, no everything is fine. I just, perhaps I got a bit carried away there. You’ll have to forgive me. I became very frightened when I realized you were not in your room this morning. Then I couldn’t find you anywhere else and I, well, I became worried for a moment. It’s all well now that I’ve found you haha,” Despite his small laughs, you could see that Samuel was still shaking. From fear or what, you weren’t sure, but he was obviously not alright.

“ Oh, well I’m sorry. I, uh, didn’t really want to wake you,” you explained, standing up so you could stand by him and offer a bit of support. You weren’t really sure what was the best course of action to take here, but maybe being understanding was the best route?

“ Of course, It’s really no trouble. No need to apologize. Although, if you could, just please let me know where you’ll be ahead of time? It would save me a great deal of worry,” He asked, his brows pinched up in concern. You bit your lip. This was not normal behavior, to be so worried about a near stranger disappearing and all, but then again, Samuel had been here by himself for what you presumed to be a very long time. If you really were the first person that had come here since he started living in this place full time, then wouldn’t it be natural that he was instantly clingy to the first social connection he’s had in a while?

“ Uh yeah, I can do that. Sure, uh, do you want to uh, go back to the courtyard or something? I wanted to uh grab some books first though,” you agreed and gestured to the shelves. He nodded quickly, and you didn’t fail to notice how he scrambled to hide his various pages of writing behind his back. You  pretended not to, more for his peace of mind. You quickly gathered up any novel that had caught your eye and shuffled out of the library a bit awkwardly. 

The next few days were spent just lazing about and reading any books that look vaguely interesting, and Samuel stuck by your side as much as possible. He tried to pretend that he wasn’t, making up some excuses about wanting to clean a room or him forgetting an object by where you were hanging out, but it appeared that at one point or another he realized how lame he probably sounded so he simply just started following you around the complex. You didn’t mind all that much. He was good company, and it was clear that he was just worried about being a bother. 

You had called him over a number of times to your side, and his bright expression was admittedly pretty lovely. It turned out that he had also read most of the books in the library, if not all of them. You found that out after he made remarks about a fantasy novel you had gotten pretty engrossed in and subsequently spoiled the ending for you. He had been very apologetic afterwards.

Like most days, the two of you would sit in the courtyard and the open hallways, laying down and talking about random subjects. It was one of these idle days that you finally broached a topic that you had been dying to know.

“How old are you anyways, Samuel?” You asked while lazily flipping through some pages that you had already gone through. He, who had simply been watching you, blinked surprised. 

“I’m not exactly sure. I believe that I am about the same as you,” he shrugged. Over the past few days, the two of you had become slightly more casual with each other. Spending all day within each other's company was bound to do that, but you found it to be interesting.

“ Well like, what was the last year before you started living here full time?”

“ Hmmmm, perhaps 1899? I recall many being restless about the incoming new year. You must have experienced that by now,” Samuel hung his head back in contemplation. You blinked in shock.

“ Dude what? You’re from the 1800’s!?” You pushed yourself up, more of your attention put on him.

‘Dude?” he mouthed out, confused by your wording.

“ It’s 2023 on Earth right now. That would make you over a hundred years old,” you explained, awe laced in your voice. You crawled over to him in what you could only assume was in a super unhinged manner. “ You’re like, super old.”

“ I am most certainly not old!” he cried, crossing his arms in protest. You laughed, the most open and expressive thing you had done since you had gotten to this odd place, and rolled onto your side unceremoniously, your body shaking with little snorts. At your response, he could only grin.

“ Come now! You can’t be serious!” he laughed. “ I am not!”

“ You totally are dude!” you playfully shot back. From there, your conversation devolved into a messy tangle of jabs, giggles, and jokes.

 The quietness of the complex melted away slowly as you filled it with the music of your voices intertwining. You would say something silly, and Samuel would respond with naive confusion. He wasn’t used to your kind of humor, but by god was he trying. You could see it in the small pinch of his brows before he would throw all of his 17th century logic to the wind and join in on your fun. 

It was almost like you were a kid again, playing with some other child that you would probably never see again after you left the park. A temporary best friend who you would spill your entire family’s business to as you ran around a swing set. That’s what Samuel was to you in a way. There was actually something kind of freeing about knowing that anything that happened in that weird realm would stay there with him. There was really no reason why you couldn’t be friends with him, even if any relationship built wasn’t very permanent. Besides, he seemed to actively want to interact with you at nearly all points of the day(?) despite knowing that you would be going away in about three weeks, so who were you to really deny that?

At some point the gate had changed in appearance. You had noticed on maybe a week into your stay while taking what you guessed to be a morning walk. The library had been calling your name, probably a product of nothing else but boredom, and you had taken a quick glance in its direction. You stopped in your tracks when you saw that part of the circle had been darkened. 

“ Huh,” you managed out weakly. That was certainly strange, you would have to ask Samuel about that later.

“ Why don’t you clean the rest of the rooms?” You asked him the next day. You had been doodling on a piece of paper while he had been writing what you assumed to be a poem. He had finally gotten comfortable enough with you to actually start doing things that he liked to pass the time, and the two of you had settled into a random drawing room with a table low to the ground. There was a plate of cookies and two steaming mugs of hot chocolate that you had made before your little hangout session had begun. He had been slightly wary of your presence in the kitchen, but you just had to shoo him off so that you could actually treat him to something.

It wasn’t like you were a super experienced baker or anything, but still, you just wanted to do a little something for him. 

“Hmm, I haven’t considered it in a while. A while ago I attempted to keep this entire place spotless, but after a while of doing so, I failed to see the point. It was an Era, as you would say,” He explained, pausing his writing for a moment to visibly think about it. The fountain pen perched in his fingers dripped ink slightly, causing a small, black splatter to appear on the paper. You giggled softly. “ Why? Do you wish to see them clean? I’ll do so if you want. All I ask is that you stay by my side and help as needed,” he offered, very sincerely too. You tried not to think of the way your face might have flushed at that, nor did you pay any mind to the tingling feeling racing up your skin.

“ Nah, I was just wondering. It would be a pretty big project to upkeep this place like how you do with our rooms. Though it would be something to do. Maybe we could pick a random room and clean it up tomorrow?” You suggested as you ran a stick of charcoal on your own paper, creating random lines and swirls. From the corner of your eyes, you could see his lips curl into a fond smile.

You didn’t want to meet his gaze, for you were harboring a sneaking suspicion that you were developing a crush on your new friend. Sure you had only known him for a week, but stranger things had happened. Plus, considering your isolation in high school and middle school, you never really had the chance to explore friendship much less romance. You were sure that Samuel was in a similar position; you could tell by the way his fingers would linger on your skin when ever he pushed you gently into wherever he wanted you to go, by the ways he would look at you as if you were the air he breathed, by way he acted like you were his last chance at anything and everything. 

That was a kind of attention you never had before, and had to admit that it was nice. The connection you had each other felt like a heavy blanket after an exhausting day. At least to you it did. But you knew that you really shouldn’t give in. You were going to leave soon, in like three weeks no less, and that gave you plenty of reasons to not give in to the warm feeling spreading through your chest whenever he gave you a smile. It was hard to ignore, though. 

“ That sounds like a lovely idea. Sounds like we’ll have a busy day ahead of us.”

From there your conversation fell into a comfortable silence. You focused mainly on your growing stack of drawings, the soft skrtching of both of your chosen utensils filling the space with noise. You drew corners of your home as best you could, some of your friends from college, jack-o'-lanterns, really whatever that floated into your mind at the moment. When you finally took a moment to pause from your “work”, you noticed that it was really quiet. Looking up, you could see that Samuel at some point had dozed off.

His arms rested against the table, his sleeves stained by the now dried ink of his poem, the words being a smudged mess of meter and rhyme. His braided locs fell over his face and back which softly rose and fell with every breath he took in. Your lips parted in slight surprise. Without really thinking about it, you leaned over the table to further see his resting visage. You drank in the way his long, silver lashes brushed up against his cheekbones. You blinked for a couple of moments, unsure of what to do. Honestly, you didn’t want to wake him up from his slumber, but you also didn’t want to keep staring at him. It was so unfair. He was too pretty to be real.

So, you quickly scribbled a note that you would be out exploring the rest of the complex and left it on the table before you scurried out of the drawing room as silently as you could. The creaking floors made it hard to do, but other than Samuel’s face scrunching up at a particularly loud squeak, you got out of there without disturbing him. From there you decided to walk through a building you hadn’t been to yet. 

It was cold there. Not just in the temperature, but in the general feel of the realm too. You looked on to the vast expanse of nothingness that stretched beyond the railings of the hallway, at the gray ground, at the stars that freckled the eternal night. There was no warmth, no love, no life here other than Samuel. You briefly recalled what he said to you when you had first met. How he was a part of this place now.

Did that mean he couldn’t leave?

You shrugged off the thought. He said it himself; he chose to be here. You probably shouldn’t pry into the matter. If you did, you weren’t certain that you could feel guiltless about leaving him behind here.

Today, you wanted to go to the building that sat just behind the other ones. It wasn’t by much, but you actively had to go slightly out of the way of the ones that surrounded the courtyard to get there. It had a slightly more gloomy air to it, but that only grew your interest further. 

There were fewer silver lamps glowing on its pathway than everywhere else, something that you thought pretty odd. Even more strange was the dust that covered the floorboards leading up to its darkened entrance. Dust was present everywhere here, it was just a fact, but none of the halls had been this neglected. Maybe Samuel just didn’t have any real reason to come here. 

You walked up to the double doors that led into the rest of the buildings, a bit strange considering that most of the buildings didn’t have anything other than the rooms that were purely indoors. Just another thing to make this one stand out. A trail of your footprints against the dust led up to where you were standing as you gave a couple hard yanks to the entrance before they finally gave way. Inside was almost completely pitch black save for a small window at the end of the hall letting in some shimmering light.

It was pretty eerie, but there was nothing to suggest that there was anything that would actively hurt you here, plus you had already come this far. You entered the dark building, peering at the closed doors with interest. You gripped onto the handle of the nearest one, attempting to push it open, but you didn’t have much luck. Locked, great. You huffed in slight frustration and moved on to try and get into any of the other rooms, but it was the same thing: A bunch of doors that wouldn’t open and your burning curiosity. You made your way down the hall attempting again and again until you finally reached the end of the hall. You were so close to the window that your shadow loomed across the floorboards in a warped manner. Part of you wondered if the light from the stars was really bright enough to have that kind of effect, the others just ignored it for the sake of having fewer unanswered questions. 

At that point, you had kind of given up on your little adventure, but you pushed on to the very last door without much fanfare. When you twisted the knob and pushed, this time instead of being met with nothing, when it clicked open. Your eyes lit up in success, and you couldn’t help the little triumphant grin that crossed onto your face as you found somewhere to finally explore.

The room you went into was probably the dirtiest you’d seen yet, though the locked ones were probably in a worse state. There wasn’t that much furniture there to begin with, but what did occupy the space wasn't in good shape. A chair that had likely once been highly ornate and pristine had been flipped over, part of the upholstery ripped out, and one of the arms as well as a leg had been smashed so harshly into the ground that the floorboards had cracked slightly, and the carved wood splintered all over the floor. 

There was a vanity pushed up against the wall, small gashes on the table top, the mirror shattered with glass shards littering the area around it. In the reflective surface, you could see where it had been hit, the impact leaving a spider web of cracks.

The thing that caught your eye the most was the wardrobe, a milky sort of off white, rickety and aged, with its doors thrown open. Its contents spilled out onto the floor in a haphazard manner. 

It was trash. Like actual garbage. There were candy bar wrappers, empty soda cans and chip bags stacked on each other and crumpled in a careless fashion. You stooped down and gently picked up one of the bags, the plastic crinkling along the lines of your hands, and swallowed down the uneasiness as you realized that you recognized the brand. You remembered the label too. 

Taking a glance at all the other pieces of waste around the room only confirmed that these were all from your world, all varying from different years based on the graphic designs, except that they were all in the silver and gray shades that coated the realm. Had Samuel saved all of these? If so, how had he been getting them? He said himself that he didn’t leave anymore, and his lack of knowledge about current events and culture didn’t suggest otherwise. You set down the chip bag gently, choosing instead to inspect the vanity and its drawers. 

You expected to find more garbage in there, but surprisingly instead you found various old beauty products. A couple of powders, some eyeshadow, pots of eyeliners, rogue, and lipstick. None of them were pigmented, but if you squinted you could pretend that you saw some shades of color. A bit of scarlet red here, some bright coral there, all dull and shining against the pads of your fingers. You held them up close to your eyes to further inspect how they glimmered. 

“ What are you doing?”

You turned around quickly, eyes wide and heart beating wildly. You put your hand to your chest, letting out a relieved sigh at the sight of Samuel standing in the doorway with a hard to read expression.

“ You scared me,” you said, lungs heaving just a bit. He walked into the room, eyes cold as he took in the piles of trash. He chose to go directly up to you, gently taking the pot of blush out of your hands and setting it on the shattered vanity.

“ Don’t touch that. Who knows how long it’s been there,” he softly muttered. You held your breath. He stood so closely that you could feel his words ghosting on the shell of your ear, sliding down the crook of your neck, warm and melancholic. 

“ I was just exploring. This was the only door I could open,” you explained. You shifted slightly on the balls of your feet. The sullenness of his face was enough to tell you that you probably shouldn’t have been in here. It was kind of obvious that that might’ve been the case given the state of the whole building, but you didn’t expect the hurt present on his face. “ What is all of this?” You asked, gesturing to the pile of discarded wrappings. Samuel grimaced slightly. A sore subject it seemed.

“ You don’t, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” you rushed out, but he only sighed and wiped his hand nervously on his face.

“No, no it’s alright. I can, I can tell you. Could we, perhaps, go somewhere else?”

His voice cracked slightly, like he was being burned alive with tears. You nodded without thinking, your hands still smeared with makeup, and led him by the wrist out of the dark building. 

His vision was downcast, but he kept up with your pace as the two of you padded towards the courtyard. You stepped down onto the grass before sitting down next to each other, his tall frame resting against the side of yours. Being there with him like that felt like being a part of a puzzle that had just been completed; It was just right.

“ You okay?” you asked. Samuel was blankly staring at the surface of the pond. The gentle wind rustled through the bushes and small trees. He shielded you from the chill.

“ I suppose,” he shrugged. “ That place is just… It holds a lot of awful memories for me.” 

You thought back to the wrecked appearance, how abandoned the building felt. It was like an old tomb, forbidden and desolate. Still its structure loomed on not too far from your little haven, threatening the peace silently. 

“ Objects come here from your world, you know. Things people have lost, things people have tossed aside. Sometimes when the moon is full, I’ll find them by the gate. And when I do, they’re always so colorful. And I know, they’re things that have been discarded. They’re dirty, but I have no color like that. So I keep them, I look at them until they become like me, and when they lose all their vibrancy, I put them in that building.” His voice rumbled softly, coursing through your skin, twisting your stomach into knots. He took a shaky gasp.

“ I- forgive me, I just can’t help it. Whenever I go there…”

“ It’s okay. You don’t have to explain it. I get it. I’m sorry for making you go there. I mean, all you have to say is you don’t want to be there. If it makes you feel bad, then I understand. That’s all I need to know. If it hurts you, that’s reason enough,” you offered in a quiet whisper. You could feel him nod against you, the edge of his fingers finding your palm. You let your hand slip into his, and you could feel him let it lay in his grasp before he tightened it like you were his last lifeline. 

As you sat there hesitantly enjoying his warmth, you wondered if the way the edges of your skin appeared in a shimmering gray was a trick of the dim lighting in a shattered mirror. 

Somehow, you had fallen into the pond in the courtyard. It was probably a symptom of you not properly gathering your balance before walking,  Samuel having just called you to eat moments before. It mirrored your arrival, save for actually crashing into the water instead of another world. 

You groaned as you wiped off the droplets clouding up your vision. Man, your clothes were soaked now. It wasn’t like you had anything else better to do, but you were lazy, so it was more annoying than anything. The chill of the water combined with the wind made you shudder as you climbed out of the pond, its surface sloshing around you noisily. 

“ [Name]?” Samuel called out from the kitchen. You could hear the clanking of plates. Ever since yesterday and your admittedly intimate conversation, he had been calling you by your name more freely. You had to guess it was part of the 1800’s manners that still lingered within him.

“ I’ll be there in a second!” You yelled back, stumbling as you did so. He must’ve heard the struggling in your voice because as soon as you spoke he was poking his head out from the doorway with a concerned expression. He took in your drowned rat appearance, his eyes growing wide.

“ [Name]! “ he cried out. He rushed over to your side, grabbing your arm and quickly pulling you out onto dry land. This was the least gentle he had been since you got here, panic clear in his demeanor. He practically dragged you over to the wooden halls, forcing you to sit down as he began to frantically look you over.

“ Are you hurt anywhere? Here?” he asked as he grabbed onto your leg, rolling up the leg of your pants to check your skin for any sign of bruising. You practically had to kick your way out of his tightened hold.

“ Hey! Hey! I’m fine! I just slipped! “ you protested, laughing a little weakly too. You placed your hands on his shoulders to try and calm him down a bit. Samuel frowned deeply, and you hesitated. Was he still feeling sensitive from yesterday? Probably. You let your touch linger. Your pinky played with one of his locs idly. You smiled at him as best you could, but you had to admit that you were freezing at that point. The cold air of the realm cut into your bones. You shivered, and the reaction did nothing to calm him down.

“ You’ll get sick,” he mumbled, watching the way the water dripped from your clothes onto his dark skin. 

“ I should be fine If I get dressed. Here, let me get up, I’ll go to my room.”

“ No, mine has a fireplace, You’ll be warmer in there,” he stood up, putting his arms under your armpits and hoisting you onto your feet. You cried out as you grabbed onto the front of his shirt in shock. He dragged you towards his room, threw the door open and had you sit down on one of the chairs. You cringed as you could feel the upholstery grow soggy underneath you.

Samuel was rifling through his wardrobe, pulling out sleep clothes and a few fluffy towels. He wordlessly crossed the expanse of his room towards you, and began to wrap the fabric around you, rubbing the sides of your arms. 

“ Here,” he said as he handed you a silken shirt and a pair of pants. You noticed how they were much larger than your own frame, much more befitting the man before you. 

“ Thanks,” you replied weakly. You patiently waited for him to leave the room, but he stood still, blankly staring at your hunched over self. You quirked a brow at him, gesturing for the door. Instead of leaving, Samuel turned his back to you and began to fuss with the fireplace and the basket of wood  sitting on the floor.

“ I won’t… I won’t look. Please, just tidy yourself,” he spoke in a wavering voice. You could see the way his Adam's apple bobbed. You were uneasy, but there was no reason really not to. So, you quickly shimmied out of your sopping outfit and changed into the clean one provided, all the while practically glaring at him to ensure that he was in fact keeping true to his word. You didn’t let him know that you had finished, choosing instead to simply watch him. Soon the silence was filled with the crackling of a fire. He sighed in relief when he stood up and realized that you had done as he asked.

He pulled off some of the pillows from his bed, the duvet, and grabbed some fluffy blankets from his wardrobe. The soft materials were placed down on the floorboards in front of the flames, arranged into a plush little area that looked insanely comfortable. 

“ Here, sit down. I’ll bring you some tea,” Samuel said as he placed his hands on your shoulders and gently pushed you down. 

“ Hey,” you spoke. He stopped in his tracks. You gestured for him to come back to your side, patting the ground next to you. He looked reluctant, fingers twitching and ready to head back to the kitchen. “ You don’t seem okay. Talk to me,” you said as earnestly as you could. You wanted to help him. There was a sort of pain on his face that you couldn’t stand. His fragility was even more pronounced than your own sorry state.

“ Nonsense, you’ll become ill. Some tea will properly warm you up,” he refuted, averting his gaze.

“ You’ve already set up the fire. Plus I promise if I start feeling bad, I’ll let you know. Okay? Just relax with me, please?” You could see the way he bit his lip, the way he still reached from the doorknob. You continued to look at him, pleading silently. You wanted to make him feel better. You didn’t know how since he was being rather mysterious in why he seemed so upset, but you could try. He huffed loudly, the sound escaping through his nose, and it was then you knew you had won.

So the two of you sat in front of the fire, watching the silver inferno dance, spreading light through over the expanse of your form. Samuel had wrapped a blanket over your shoulders, his way of feeling better about the whole situation. He was rigid as a board, stiff and posture straight. You, on the other hand, settled down to lay on your side, tired of sitting criss crossed. When your face pressed against the plush duvet he had put down, you could feel the tips of his fingers lightly trailing on the nape of your neck. You shuddered slightly, for his touch was cold.

“ What’s got you so freaked out?” you mumbled sleepily. He hummed in response.

“ Nothing really. I’m just concerned for your well-being.”

“ Well, I’ll be fine. You’ve done plenty for me already,” you said lazily, blinking slowly. You wanted to say more, you really did, but you were so tired. The fire was so warm, the pile of pillows so comforting that you could barely fight against the lull of sleep. You found yourself falling asleep quickly.

“ I know… It’s just, you’re so fragile,” he sighed, resting his hand on the crown of your head, cradling it even. Still, you could only laugh in drowsy amusement. He looked at you as if you were crazy, but you couldn’t help the smile playing on your lips.

“ If anything, you’re much more fragile than me, old man,” you said with a yawn before slipping away into complete slumber.

Samuel was much calmer the next few days when he realized that you weren’t on death’s door, but he had been pretty insistent that you stay in his room and not go wandering around the complex as you usually would. You were rightfully annoyed by this, but he was, to no surprise, incredibly stubborn when it came to such matters. The two of you had your first dispute since you had been there over it even, and you had eventually given in once the look of hurt on his face grew too great to ignore. 

He brought you books from the library and meals fresh from the kitchen. You had suggested that you eat in the courtyard like usual, but he had shot that down quickly. Something about it being too cold out there. Instead, he had dragged another table into his bedroom so that you could spend time in there. He hardly left your side for those three days, and when you asked about going back to your own room, he had refused on the grounds that there was no fireplace there. Deep down, you knew that you were probably indulging him too much, so you said that after today, the third day you had been holed up in there, you would go back to wandering around as you pleased.

“ Fine, as you wish,” he gritted out, obviously not happy about it, before turning heel and stalking out to do who knows what. You were left there alone for the first time in what felt like forever, and you sighed with relief. Sliding off his bed, you ban to wander around his space to kill time. You appreciated what he was trying to do, you really did, but you were getting tired of being cooped up here. Plus the utter boredom you were starting to feel was getting on your nerves. You figured that Samuel would be less paranoid about your health once he saw that you were perfectly fine, uninjured, and unriddled with all kinds of ailments. You had tried to give him a bit of grace, but you were running out of patience to keep relenting. 

You were tidying things up a little, just to keep yourself busy. You folded up blankets, pushed in chairs, stacked up some of the books you had gone through. Part of you hoped that it would serve as a peace offering to your friend, making his worries fade if only by a small amount. Eventually you waltzed over to his vanity, arranging the various knickknacks on top of it so they weren’t just strewn about. There were bottles of perfume and powders, some not too unsimilar to the ones you found in the dark, dusty building. You did so mindlessly, until you really focused on the object you had touched. The smooth texture was familiar to you almost immediately, and your eyes widened as you looked down at the music box, the one you had found by the pond. 

You blinked at its appearance, once pastel and gold, colored into a silver, platinum and shimmering version of itself. You dropped it in surprise, the notes within it making a loud clang. Your hands which had held it were in the same color scheme as the entire room.

You gasped nervously as you turned them over, your vibrant skin fading into a much duller color. 

“What?” you whispered shakily. Your mind instantly went to the room full of garbage, the ones from your own world. They were gray, just like the music box, just like the world, just like Samuel, and now just like your fingers. You thought of the trash and why he had chosen to keep it. It would be so easy to chuck them out the moon gate, but instead they were collected there in that building. You swallowed thickly, remembering something that he first said to you.

“ I’m not even sure I can tell you what I was doing before I became part of this place.” 

Samuel said it himself, he used to be like you. Now, though, he couldn’t leave, and everything that ended up in the same coloring got trapped here as well. Were you… were you becoming a part of this world too? 

That night you had returned to your room, and Samuel had reluctantly kept to his word. You were itching to ask him about what was happening to you, but you wanted to keep silent for now and see if anything was off about his demeanor. Yes, he had explained that eventually things lost their color to the gray, but he hadn’t elaborated on how long it took. But it had been around twelve days now, and the music box you had entered with had already turned completely.

When you had gotten dressed this morning, slipping on your socks and shoes, you noticed that your feet had lost their original shade. You were extremely unnerved by this, and when you looked in your vanity mirror, it appeared that your cheeks had been dusted with a silver flush. 

It occurred to you that the fire that he had constantly going while you were in his room had likely masked the fact that you had suddenly started to change in shade, you chalking it up to the lighting. Maybe that was why he hadn’t said anything. 

Regardless, you went to check on the moon gate. You were starting to become anxious to go home. It had been over a week since you had initially wandered out, and you couldn’t help but think of the panic your disappearance must’ve made with not only your family but your friends. How would they feel knowing that you went missing on the way to hang out with them? You sighed, melancholy and longing filling your lungs as you looked out at the only thing that could grant you your exit. 

The gate itself had faded from a half full moon to a waxing crescent. The sliver of light shining upon its surface would likely disappear into complete darkness in a matter of a few days. You were nervous, to say the least. If whatever was happening to you completed before the gate fully opened again, you were never going to go home again. 

“ Samuel, how long did it take for you to, you know, lose all your color?” You hated how blunt you sounded, but you had to know. You were sitting in the library today, cozied up in two plush chairs across from each other. You had been trying to focus on a book you had picked up, but your grayed out hands made it hard to concentrate. He was humming, a small smile on his face, while writing his poetry. 

Your question broke him out of his happy state, him quickly snapping into a worried expression. When he didn’t say anything, you rolled up your sleeve to reveal your problem, fading up your forearm. Over the past three days, you had tried to act as normal as you could, shoving down your concerns in favor of returning to the casual atmosphere you had built before you had wandered into the building with all the trash, but it was harder than you thought it would be. 

“ I’ve been, uh, experiencing this for the past few days, and well, I’m nervous that it’ll spread more before it's my time to leave,” you said awkwardly. Samuel stood up from his chair wordlessly and grabbed onto your wrist, his fingers rubbing over your skin in a soothing and curious manner. 

“ You’re becoming like me,” he said plainly. 

“ Yeah, uh I guess I am. I’ve been meaning to ask you about it, but yeah. Is, uh, is there anything I can do to slow it down? Or make sure that it won’t take over completely before the full moon?”  He winced at your mention of leaving, sadness pooling in his eyes.

“ There’s nothing that can prevent this place from claiming you. You must leave before then, but you should be fine by the time the gate reopens,” he explained dully. “ Would it, would it really be so terrible if you were to stay here with me, though?” You looked up at him, your face completely splattered with shock. You choked out a surprised laugh, like he was making a cruel joke.

“ What? You know I can’t do that Samuel. I have a life that I have to get back to,” You rejected the idea immediately, gently trying to tug your arms out of his grasp. He bit his lip as his chest began to rise and fall more rapidly.

“ I understand. However, you, I believe that if you would just stay,  we could have a life here. One that is just as wonderful as your life on Earth. I know that I’m asking you to give a lot here, but I just, [Name] I don’t know what I’ll do if I’m alone again,” he gasped out his words, squeezing down on your limbs without realizing. A few tears, bright like dying stars, began to slip down his cheeks, falling down and splashing your own frantic hands. Your own heart felt as if it were being slammed against your ribcage, guilt and sorrow bubbling up. 

In the brief period that you had come to know him, you had started to become fond of Samuel. It was a fast forming bond, driven by both of your respective degrees of isolation, and you couldn’t deny the attraction that you felt every time he shyly smiled your way. But this wasn’t some fast forming crush. This was a man asking you to throw your everything away for him, for eternal youth, for eternal nothingness. This wasn’t him asking you to become a trusted friend or even a lover, he was asking you to be his whole world. You wondered if he was only offering to become yours because that was the only thing he had to give. 

“ I’m really sorry, but I have to go home,” you said as resolutely as you could, but you couldn’t help the small cracks in your voice creeping in. Your refusal devastated the man, and he let out a few sobs and sank to his knees, placed his head in your lap, and softly cried into you for what felt like hours. All the while he quietly mumbled his pleas for you to reconsider, for you to stay, to witness all he could promise you.

When you didn’t do anything other than caress his head in an effort to calm him, he shambled up to his feet, wiped off his tears with his sleeves, weakly said goodbye, and turned to leave the room. You sat there for a while, staring at the emptiness that flowed in after him, and you thought of how everyday must’ve been like this for him. There was nothing but regret and anxiety of whether or not the right decision had been made everyday for decades upon decades. You felt bad, you truly did, because it was a miserable existence frankly, and part of you worried that if you did stay, you would eventually succumb to that crippling loneliness even with Samuel with you. That you would lose your color, and you would become like the garbage holed up in that room.

The next day, when you cautiously ambled out of your bedroom, you were immediately hit with the scent of flowers. The entire hall was filled with vases and pots containing all kinds of floral arrangements and species. All shimmering and gray, but beautiful nonetheless. 

“ You could have this everyday if you wanted,” his voice startled you, and you jumped when you realized that he was practically leaning over you. You had been too distracted by the plants to notice him emerging from his room, and you assumed that he had been listening for when you would emerge from your own. 

“ Samuel… Please,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “ I understand your feelings, but you gotta also get that I need to go home. I made that clear yesterday,” you pleaded with him as you brushed by his figure, stalking off to make a meal for yourself. He followed suit, hardly a step behind you.

You went through the curtain and began to pull out various pans and utensils, trying to figure out exactly what it was you wanted to make in the first place when he came in and took a spatula that was in your hand. You protested weakly, trying to grab it back, but he pushed you to sit at the table as you normally would. You crossed your arms, quirking a brow at him in clear annoyance.

“ Uh, what do you think you’re doing?”

“ I’m making you breakfast. I know you wanted to split the meal making duties, but I can take over from now on,” he explained, moving to pull out ingredients from the fridge. “ You won’t ever have to lift a finger again. If you stay, that is.”

You ate breakfast with him, because what else was there to do, with a very strange atmosphere. The man kept asking if the food was good, if you were comfortable, asking if you wanted to go to his room where he knows you would be comfortable if you would just let him take you there. His confession, as vague as it was, and your rejection had dialed up his clinginess to the max.

“ I’m going to the drawing room,” you said after dumping a clean plate on a drying rack. Samuel was hovering over you, leaving you slightly pinned to the counter you were working on. You slid past him as best you could, but an arm shot out to prevent you from going any further.

“ I think you should stay here, in the courtyard with me.”

“ I’ll be fine by myself. I need a bit of space right now,” you shrugged him off, trying to ignore the way his face lit up in momentary anger, something that you hadn’t really seen before on his sweet appearance. He ignored your request to be left alone, by the way. He followed you to the drawing room, remarking about how lovely the complex was, how it could be more beautiful if the two of you just cleaned all of the empty rooms. How if you stayed that would be a real possibility. 

You sat there silently, trying to ignore him as best as you could. You were doodling again, and this time instead of sitting himself opposite of you, Samuel decided to cozy up beside you, resting his chin on your shoulder and watching with mild interest as you sketched. His breath was warm on your skin, but you stayed quiet. You hated how flustered he made you feel even now when you were clearly frustrated by his clinginess. Part of it was because you truly couldn’t be fully mad at him. He was lonely, desperate for the first bit of human contact in who knows how long to stay with him, and you couldn’t really fault him for being so devastated by your exit from his life. 

If there was a way where he could come back with you, you were sure that you would have thrown caution to the wind and explored your growing crush on the handsome man. You wished things had been different; that he was just a boy you had known and quickly grown close to on campus or somewhere around your town. 

“ You’re quite good at that,” he said. You called bullshit; Your art was a mess of ink splotches and squiggly lines that you cobbled together to resemble the flowers and the hallways that surrounded you. You hardly put any effort into it, and anyone would be a fool to say it was anything more than a way to pass the time.

“ I can do portraits, you know. If you would sit down, I could draw up the two of us. There are some oil paints around here somewhere, so I could paint it as well,” he offered, his arms slowly moving to wrap you in an embrace. You shrugged him off with a bit of reluctance.  His touch was comforting, but you had to create a fine line between the two of you. Leaving would be harder otherwise. 

“ I’m alright,” you responded curtly. You could feel his lips against your skin form into a frown, and he brought up a hand to turn you head. You startled a bit, but his eyes bore into yours with a frightening amount of intensity. A cold fear settled into your stomach.

“ Please,” was all he said, and all you could do was meekly nod.

Samuel had you sit down in a room with a large amount of windows to paint your portrait. He had given you an outfit that was far more ornate than anything you had worn in the previous week and a half and sat you down on a plush, comfortable chair. He had surrounded you with flowers, petals sitting at your feet and scattered across your lap. Satin, ribbons hung from your wrists, neck, and ankles. He had tied them after you had been dressed, a small, fond smile settling on the lines of his face as he held onto your limbs gently. 

“ You look absolutely lovely,” he said, content as he moved in front of the canvas. 

“ Uh thanks I guess.”

“ Have you ever had your portrait taken?” he asked, holding up a brush between poised fingers. 

“ Not really. I mean I’ve had my picture taken at school,” you shrugged. You wished he would stop staring at you, dissecting you with his fluttering eyelashes. Your skin had continued to gray at an alarming rate, and you could not ignore the panic that had gripped you. You were trying to trust what he had said about you not turning completely before the full moon came, but it was hard to just brush off the sudden way your appearance was changing. 

You had checked the moon gate the night before, passing by it under the pretense of going to the library. You weren’t sure why, but you no longer felt comfortable simply telling Samuel about your true intentions anymore. Before he had asked you to stay the first time, you would simply inform him of where you would be. Sure, he would likely show up to stick by your side before long, but he hadn’t actively stopped you from going anywhere until then. But yesterday with his insistence that you stay with him in the courtyard and his tailing you all through the complex was the beginning of a new pattern that you were certain that you didn’t like.

When you had first woken up this morning, he was sitting outside of your door in the hall. It wasn’t unusual before, but now it felt like a calculated step he took to make sure that every second of your day was spent with him. It was then that he had given you a silken shirt and pair of pants and pulled you into a room with windows that went all the way to the ceiling.

But the moon gate, it had passed from the new moon into the sliver of a crescent. It wouldn’t be long before you could go home. You had to keep reassuring yourself of that. Maybe twelve days or so more? Six until the half moon appeared again for sure. You sighed, trying to focus on anything other than his gaze.

“ Picture? Ah, I recall that being a new thing before I came here. Is it more common in your time?” he asked. 

“ Yeah, uh I’d say they are. Like super common actually. I wish I had brought my phone with me. I think you would have, uh, I think you would’ve enjoyed seeing all the stuff on there,” you laughed weakly. He hummed in response. The room was filled with the sound of paint being rubbed onto canvas. His eyes flitted between the you he was creating and your own fidgeting figure. You wondered if he was having trouble with you not being completely still. After a few moments of him being focused on his task, you let your mind wander. It must’ve gone a bit too far, though, because soon you found yourself voicing a question that you had been holding since a few days in.

“ Hey, if we hadn’t met here, like if we met back on Earth and all, would you have liked me?” Samuel froze, his small smile halting into one of shock. He tore away from his art and fully faced you, truly taking in your petulant expression and pinched brows.

“ Of course,” he said without hesitation, and you sighed.

“ But like, why? I mean, can you really say that if you had met me without being here by yourself for so long, you would be like this with me?” you asked. He stared blankly. He hadn’t tried to think about it. It was plain to see from his silent floundering. Part of you knew that he didn’t really want to answer your question, for anything he said would probably be untrue to some extent. Deep down he knew the way he clung to you wasn’t natural. Deep down he knew that if you hadn’t met under such circumstances, he probably wouldn’t feel as desperate or deeply about you. If he thought otherwise, he would be lying. He had to because to some extent you felt the same way. 

“ Does it matter?”

“ What do you mean?”

“ I don’t think it really matters. We didn’t meet on Earth because we weren’t supposed to. You came to me now, here. There’s a reason for that, you know. I haven’t felt much of anything lately, yet you, you came here. You’re with me now. I know you don’t wish to stay, but you have to agree that this is fate. That’s all I need to be certain of my affections for you,” Samuel looked at you with such fondness, and you couldn’t help but ache. You wanted to believe him so badly that it hurt, that this was meant to be, that you were meant to stay. He walked over to you, his hands reaching up to cradle your face like you were made out of porcelain, his finger pushing down on your lower lip. 

He leaned in for a kiss no doubt, but you turned quickly, your figure curling up on itself in discomfort. He kissed your jaw gently, trying to make his way towards your mouth, but you pushed gently on his chest while quietly saying “no”.  He reared back before homing in close once again, chasing after your affection. Still, you screwed your eyes shut and stood from your seat, breaking away from his touch.

“ [Name] please-”

“ Samuel, You have to stop. This is going nowhere. I care about you, really, and I, I also like you in that way, but it’s just not going to happen. I have to go home, and that’s it,” it hurt to say those words. You wanted fate, you wanted a person that you were destined to be with, but it couldn’t be like this. You had tried so hard to leave your shell, to go out and enjoy life while making friends and experiencing everything to falling in love to the joyful chaos of university. You needed that too, and you couldn’t get it if you stayed here. 

“ No, no, you’re not understanding me. I need you here, please. I can’t be alone again!” He cried, chasing after you as you began to exit the room. As you stalked off, fighting tears along the way, you began to undo the ribbons that he had tied to your wrists, discarding them in the ground in your wake. He scrambled to pick them up, calling your name.

“ [Name] [Name] [Name] “

You shoved your hands over your ears in a desperate attempt to drown out his increasingly panicked voice. You were practically running down the hallways, racing to reach your room. Your feet thudded against the creaking floorboards, his even louder ones following suit.

“ I’m sorry!” You shouted, your throat hoarse with fear and sadness. You slid in front of your doorway, quickly heading inside before shutting and locking it behind you. You could hear Samuel’s body slam into it, his fists pounding against it.

“ [Name]! Please let me in! I didn’t wish to frighten you! Just let me make it up to you! Please I swear I wasn’t attempting to force you. I just, I simply wanted you to understand my feelings,” he begged, his breathing rapid. 

“ Go away,” you said loudly, backing away slightly. He kept on hitting the door, the handle jiggling with his attempts to get in. 

“ [Name] open the door please. Please, I can make you understand.”

“ Go away!” you repeated, a bit more loudly this time. Your heart was pounding in your chest. He didn’t stop though. In fact his actions only became more frantic, and you could see the way the door began to shake with every slam he made against it, the wood shaking against his hinges.

You had begun crying, tears streaming down your cheeks as you sank to the floor, curling into yourself as you sobbed out. He must’ve heard you crying because he was practically trying to break his way into your room.

“ [Name]! Let me in! Please! Just give me a chance! I love you! PLEASE!,” he frantically called as the banging continued. 

SLAM

“ Let me in!”

SLAM

“[NAME]! PLEASE!” He was sobbing too.

SLAM

“ I LOVE YOU! LET ME IN!”

“ GO AWAY!” you screamed, louder than you think you had ever screamed in your entire life. Your body shook as you cried into your knees, and you felt like you were going to throw up, but the terror outside your room had stopped suddenly. 

The quiet was unnerving, and it lasted for a while. You sniffled as the minutes ticked by, trembling as you looked at his shadow coming in from under your door. He was just sitting there, waiting for you to say something, to come out, to fall into his arms and allow yourself to be swept up by the dream-like romance that you knew we wanted to sweep you up in. But you stayed still out of pure fear of what he would do to you once you left the room. You could hear his slightly ragged breaths, waiting to have you in his hold once more.

“ If you wish to stay in there,” he said after a long period of no words passing between you,” It’s okay. I’ll be here for you, and you’ll understand how I feel then.” His words were ominous, and they sent shivers down your spine. 

You couldn’t really believe that this was the sweet and gentle man you had come to know over the past couple two weeks, but then again that was hardly enough time to truly know someone. You felt stupid, being swept up in the way he treated you, in how beautiful this place was and how sweetly he spoke your name. You wanted to make it work. You wanted to believe that this was just a weird dream that was going on for too long. Oddly, part of you still felt guilty over not being able to give yourself to someone who was so lonely, someone who yearned that deeply for connection. You could be that missing piece to make his life whole, but you’d be sacrificing yours in the process. You couldn’t, it was as plain as that, and yet you still wanted to make him happy.

The Samuel that you had started to like, the one who looked at you like you were everything, was not truly real though. The real him was partly that, but he was also desperate and wild to a degree that frightened you greatly. You couldn’t live like that, not after how he reacted. So even if there were still some feelings for him there, there was no way you could let them get in the way of you going home.

He had sat right up against your door for the entire night, and you had fearfully allowed yourself to slip into a fitful sleep pressed up against the wall in your bed. In the morning, you awoke to him knocking.

“ I told you, you would never have to lift a finger again. I made you breakfast. If you open the door it’s here for you,” he chuckled slightly. You didn’t fail to notice the unstableness in his voice as you clutched your blanket closer to yourself. 

“I’ll, I’ll go to my room, just make sure that you eat something. I don’t want you to starve,” he sighed after you didn’t answer. You could hear the clanging of silverware and plates being set down before the tell tale creaks of the floor board gave way to his location. Indeed, he had stepped away, but that didn’t mean you could afford to be flippant about the matter. You approached the exit to your room slowly, unlocking it with a soft click before you opened it in a hurry and snatched up the meal. You locked it back in place almost immediately after, staying alert in case Samuel decided to come running for you. To your relief, he stayed put.

You swallowed down the food as best as you could, but you couldn’t finish most of it. You decided that you would leave the plate on your vanity for later as the more you could avoid having to leave your room, the better. You caught a glance at your appearance in the mirror, and you were alarmed to see that the silver had spread up pretty much all the way to your biceps. It was taking over you quickly. You shakily sighed as you tried to stave off the rest of the time by reading some books that you had left in there from the previous few days. 

Samuel tried to coax you out with lunch a couple hours later, but since you had your plate, you stayed inside and ignored it.

“[Name], please… You’re not taking care of yourself. If you would let me in, I could help you,” he said, but again you stayed quiet. He was a bit more stable than the night prior, though, so instead of screaming at you to come out, he began to read off some poetry that he had been writing. You assumed that it was all from the period after your arrival, recalling how he would be jotting down imagery with a serene expression while you lazed about. You missed how it had been, even if it hadn’t been all too long ago. 

Eventually, his voice grew hoarse from speaking to no one for hours, and you heard him dejectedly bidding you goodnight, once again leaving you with silence.

The next day carried out much the same, and you found yourself growing increasingly paranoid. You didn’t want to stay in your room the entire time. Your books had been read and the gate needed to be checked on, but you were certain that if you stepped out of your safe haven, Samuel would be there ready to do who knows what.

That day, he had spent many hours telling you of how he envisioned a life with you to be, and you became increasingly aware of the notion that he might be planning to prevent you from leaving the realm all together. 

“ We shall sit here and discuss everything and nothing,” he laughed to himself.” Why, we’d be like those scholars in the library! Perhaps you and I could write books together. Wouldn’t that be lovely?” 

As much as his words disturbed you, it did give you an idea. After he retired to bed, you devised a slight plan to visit the library once more. Perhaps there was something there that could offer you an answer about what this place was and maybe even how to slow down its claim over you. So that night, you opened your window carefully and climbed out to land on the barren expanse of silver ground that surrounded the complex. 

The floorboards in the hall would give away your activity in no time, but if you sneaked in through the outside ground, then you could slip into the library undetected. There hadn’t really been any reason to leave the carefully maintained halls until now, but now you were offered a more covert way to traverse through the buildings. 

You quietly skirted on the edges of the property until you gently climbed up onto the wooden pathway. Hopefully you were far enough away from the bedrooms that the slight creaking wouldn’t be too much of a give away. It seemed that you were correct in this assessment, for you were able to rifle through books in the library undisturbed for the first time in what felt like a long while. You were a bit desperate in combing through the knowledge available, though you were careful to put everything back in its place lest Samuel figure out that you had managed to sneak in without him seeing. 

You pulled out journals about the phases of the moon, star maps, novels that looked as if they had been read by him on multiple occasions. You found nothing of use. Frustrated, tired, and scared beyond imagination, you gripped your head in your hands. You surveyed the place, eyes roaming over the shelves upon shelves of information until a slight glint caught your eye. It was something shining between two heavy books, the light from outside hitting it perfectly. You would’ve never really seen it if you hadn’t been scrutinizing the room so intensely, and you quickly made your way over to whatever was shimmering so brightly. It was really just a sliver of reflection, hardly noticeable, but when you inspected it further you found a key, metal and shiny despite a small amount of grime covering it. 

 You turned the object over in your palm curiously and quickly placed it within your pocket. Something told you that whatever answers you sought were somehow connected to this simple piece of metal.

With that you quickly scurried off to your room once more.

“ I know you’d be sacrificing a lot,” Samuel said to you on the third day of locking yourself in your room. The gate had opened up a considerable amount since he had exploded in anguish, and you could tell that he was trying even more desperately to get you to stay of your own volition.

“ You have friends and a family…But I could be both of those for you. You would be the same for me. We could be each other's everything, you know. If you would just give me a chance to prove how wonderful we’d be, I’d make it worth your time.” You could hear the gentle movement of pen over paper, of a broom sweeping down the hall, of his breaths. He would spend his whole time there, luring you with honeyed promises of a romantic and satisfied life, but his frightening behavior made you sure that your days here would be anything but that. If he had you, he would never let you go. This realm was much the same. 

With that terrifying fact in mind, you knew that you had to figure out where the key led into. Its neglected state told you it had to be a place that Samuel hadn’t bothered with for a long time, and there was really only one place that fit that desolate description. While he waxed on about how good he would be to you, how he would worship you if you truly wished, you  thought of that hallway filled with locked doors. Considering how long he had been here, there might be some things of some long gone era including the remnants of a stable Samuel.

Later that night, when you snuck out again, you stared out over the vast silver nothingness. If you weren’t so terrified that there wasn’t anything but the complex, you would have taken off running into it. Your window, which was very high up by the way, looked down on your shifty form.  

The old building loomed in all its dim glory like a beacon in a sea of darkness, and you approached with much caution. The key in your silver palm sat heavy with years of unknown history. The stars watched from above as you gripped onto the wooden railing that decorated the edges of the halls. The carved wooden leaves and flora pressed into your skin, leaving indents in their image. Like many times before, the floor creaked with each step you took. Here, you were less worried about Samuel hearing you as it was so removed from everything else. Here, you could breathe a little more. Your silk shirt didn’t feel as stifling, and you shook a little less. 

You yanked on the handles of the doors, shocked to find that they didn’t budge. Shit, he must’ve locked it at some point. You sighed, part out of anger and part out of fear, and stepped back. If you couldn’t get in the normal way, then some alternative methods were needed. 

So, that’s how you ended up crawling through the window at the back of the building. It was an awkward action, your stomach pressing uncomfortably onto the ledge. You hung there for a moment, trying to shimmy inside before you fell ungracefully onto the floor with a large thud. You froze there as a few moments passed by. Part of you was waiting for Samuel to come storming into the building, for him to unleash a torrent of tears and desperation upon you. Silence passed. There was no thundering pace, and no calling of your name from a man starved of stability. You placed a hand to your chest, gasping in relief and at your aching muscles. 

There wasn’t much time, not much that you were comfortable spending out here from the safety of your room, that is, to properly look through every room in here for a clue on your condition and how to leave. You glanced at the door not too far from you, slightly ajar from your last visit to this place. If that one held things that were more contemporary, then wouldn't it be safe to assume that the ones closest to the main entrance were the oldest?

You shakily stood on your feet while using the wall as your guide. You pulled out the key as you picked the nearest one to the front of the building You slotted in the key, and much to your relief, the door swung open with an ancient sounding creak. The smell of age immediately hit your nose, and your face wrinkled in disgust. This place had not been touched in a while. Unlike the one you had seen a week ago, the room looked as if it had been left as was. The furniture seemed to be in their proper places, and there weren’t random objects strewn about. The only things that could make it messy was the amount of dust coating over every surface and the odd few stacks of books on the floor.  

You quickly walked over to the vanity, rifling through the drawers. There was makeup. Hairpins, brushes, some old pots of congealed ink, but nothing of much note. You threw open the wardrobe to find some fraying clothes that looked nothing like the ones either you or Samuel wore. You gently pinched the sleeve of the faded shirt, the old cotton rolling limply between your fingers. How long ago had he slipped these on? Since he had gone around wandering the world as he wished? You couldn’t imagine the outfit you wore when you came here being sealed away like this.

You frowned deeply. The memories these pieces of old cloth must’ve held…It made you truly wonder what he had given up to be a part of this place. You dropped it and continued to look on for what else was in the wardrobe. There was a box holding a well worn pair of leather shoes, some gloves, and a crumpled up jacket that sat dejectedly in a pile. You rifled through them with haste, frantically looking through them. Within the pocket of the jacket, you felt the fragile texture of aged paper, and you quickly pulled it out.

Underneath the silver moonlight, you could see faded ink looping in their delicate chain, spelling out a sweet Dear Samuel.

I hope this finds you well…

It was hard to make out any of the words on the rest of the page. You furrowed your brows as you tried to piece together prose that had long since lost meaning. There were parts where the parchment had wavered under what you had assumed to be tears, places where it had been crumpled by how tightly it had been gripped, soft and limp from how many times it had been folded. It was well loved, and now, judging by its resting place, it had been forgotten. 

There was nothing to learn from it, much to your frustration. You sighed shakily as you carefully folded up the old letter and tucked it away again. You pressed your face to your palms and let out a low groan. There had to be something that could help you, you were sure of that, but whatever it was had been hidden away. Either that or it was just in a different room. 

So you went to the second door by the entrance. It was much like the one you had just been in before, except this one had a more noticeable air of clutter. There were books everywhere, strewn about in haphazard manner with pages falling out of bindings and ink splashed out across the floorboards. On the desk pressed against the wall was a worn journal, the paper in it bulging out from use.

It was by itself, illuminated by the light from the window, with little else sharing its space. You rushed over to it, before flipping over to a random page.

Today has been an eventful day. Father says that soon Mother, Charlotte, and I shall depart for the city soon. He says that there is work to be found there, and that my brother has found us occupation and housing. It must be quite nice to be familiar with the lively atmosphere. I hold little doubt that such a large number of individuals will suit my character in an unfavorable manner, yet I find that there is little I can do to protest such a sudden decision. Mother is elated for me to finally join brother and father, sister is excited to go to school in a more fashionable location, and my father is simply content to provide. By all means this is an opportunity that I am certain some would be green for, and yet I feel a sense of unease.

For if I leave this town, what will become of this place?

You visibly recoiled from the information. You knew that he had a life before this. It had been mentioned and hinted at many times before this moment, but to actually have it confirmed? It was unsettling. You nervously shut the journal, the leather and paper making a soft thud, and quickly left the room. From there you left the same way you came in, the rusty key and book tucked safely in your arms.

The next day , you sat on the floor of your room hunched over the little book. Samuel scratched at the door now; his fingernails swooping as he spoke weakly.

“ I understand, you know. I do, I really do, but I simply think you’re being unreasonable now. It’s been days since you’ve come out. I miss you [Name], and I know you miss me too,” he drawled. You could hear the exhaustion in his voice, and you could practically picture the way dark lines would hang heavily in his otherwise perfect visage. You hoped that his appearance had become akin to that of his words: sick and uncanny.

You pressed your fingers into your temple in an attempt to drown him out. Your brows were furrowed in concentration, trying desperately to focus and make out the looping cursive on the page. You sighed in frustration. You really should’ve paid more attention in classes.

As the move to the city approaches, I find myself increasingly conflicted. There is little reason as to why I should be so opposed, yet I am inextricably reluctant to go. I sit in this pavilion unknown to my family in contemplation, for I have become convinced that this solitude is more befitting of my character. I would have accommodation, food, entertainment, everything an individual would need to live a life of fulfillment and esteem. Additionally, I would achieve every son’s greatest dream: removing the burden of oneself from their parents.

I should consider taking this place as my permanent residence.

It felt wrong reading this. The only thing you could compare it to was watching back footage of a car crash before the collision actually happened. Your silence was a palpable response, and you could feel his unease oozing from into the small gap under your door. 

“ [Name], I hope you know that you still have a few days to change your mind. I’ll be here for you, throughout the whole process and everything. I know it can be frightening, but when you become like me, I’ll treat you so well that you won’t even know why you resisted me,” he laughed lowly, and you seized with fear. Your chest heaved slowly as you hung on the action of flipping a page. 

“ Please just… please just leave me alone,” you said tiredly. His weight shifted under the floorboards, the wood creaking, and he pressed his palms up against the wall outside. You could hear it, no, you could practically feel his eyes wildly searching for signs of you. His breathing was heavy, unhinged, and absolutely terrifying. You winced back from the entrance to your room. There was no telling what he would do to get in, and you had a sneaking suspicion that the door was only a decorative obstacle for him. There was no way he wasn’t desperate enough to not have tried breaking in, and that scared you so much. 

He was so sure of himself, and you did not miss the certainty in his words. When you become like him. When he would comfort you. There was no ‘If’ anymore, no attempt to conceal his certainty. Did he think that he could physically stop you from leaving? When the gate opened, he would probably do everything in his power to stop you from going. 

“ [Name]”

You ignored him in favor of digging further into his past life. He wasn’t satisfied, though. You could feel the way his shoulders heaved in your bones, how he bored his gaze onto silver wood, the way his tongue rolled with your name like a curse. 

He was quiet after that, and you watched as the shadows underneath your door shifted back. Your stomach churned in discomfort, the acid burning and warm as it crawled up your throat ever so slightly. There was no way that you could do this everyday; no way that you could sit there as he hovered around desperately for the rest of your life, or the rest of whatever it was you’d be leading if you did stay.

I have never been humiliated in such a manner as I have in this moment. I confessed my feelings of our departure to the city, how little it appealed to me and all, to my father. I’ve never seen him so cross, so cold towards me. I have always held suspicion that my family did not hold a level of affection towards me as they did to each other, but it seems that I have had to reach this unfortunate conclusion. 

He called me a drain on the fortune he had worked so hard to come across. I know that I write this in a calmer state of mind, but it took everything within me to not burst into tears right then and there. I’m in the pavilion again, and I believe that I should spend the night here. I’ve never done so before, despite all the time I do lay around in these halls. 

He’d never spent the night before? Your face twisted into confusion. That can’t… That didn’t make any sense. Did the gate function differently when he first arrived?

“[Name]...You can’t stay in there forever. If you would just speak to me, I could make this right. I promise,” Samuel mumbled out. You flipped to another page. Another day. Another tainted memory of his.

It’s been a week. I haven’t the heart to return. I suppose that my family has likely departed to the city without me being there. I wish them well, truly, and I hope they feel my support from this place. 

Perhaps I am a coward, for I cannot find the courage to go beyond here and truly apologize nor tell them that my well being is secure. I instead choose to sit around and lament. Truly my self hatred knows no bounds. Part of me imagines that my family shall scorn me for my behavior, the other thinks that they would be indifferent. They’ve never cared to know where I have gone off and disappeared before now, and I don’t believe that they’ll suddenly give a damn. 

The bitterness was palpable, and you winced as you read. The Samuel in the ink was far more antisocial than you would have ever assumed him to be; It was jarring with the way his honey dipped words tried to sway you from outside your safe spot. You swallowed thickly as you tried to imagine him with a cold and disdainful look when you came here. Had he wallowed in this awful self hatred for all this time? There was another series of soft taps on the door, ones that you vaguely recognized being that of the music box on your vanity. 

“ I promise that everyday will always be interesting. That you’ll never be bored, or suffer from loneliness. It’ll be the two of us, and I swear that I’ll make you happy. Please, won’t you please just let me see your face,” he paused, waiting for you to say something (as if there was any chance in hell that you would do that again). “ I just want to see you, see if you’ve become even more like this place and me. You can confide in me, you know.”

Had you grown more silver? The panic of the past few days had deterred you from really caring about your appearance, so the mirror in your room didn’t seem to hold much purpose. Not to mention, you were so fucking scared of what was happening to you. You could already see that the shimmering greyscale had already coated your calves and your fingers entirely, but there were large expanses of your skin that had been covered by clothing.

You slowly stood so as to not make too much noise, and carefully peered into the reflective surface that sat pressed up against the wall. You gingerly brought your hands up to your face as you stared with a mix of dismay and awe. The color had covered half of your features at this point, your eyes maintaining their color. In the meantime your hair had turned a mix of gray and silver from the ends up until just before your roots like a dye job that looked a few months overdue for a retouch. Your breath caught in your throat as you inhaled sharply. It had spread so quickly over these past couple of days…Why? Why had it done that? Was it going to completely take over you before the gate opened? No, because otherwise Samuel would’ve said something. He would’ve noted how this place took hold of him before he could go home, because he said he went home in that journal. Right?

You practically threw yourself to the floor, not caring anymore if he heard you. The Journal had to have some answers. You opened it to a random spot, eyes frantically roaming over the dates and times. The one to which you settled on seemed to be two weeks away from the last one you read. 

My clothes that I wore when I came here have faded completely into this wonderful silver color, and my skin seems to have begun doing the same. I am intrigued by this greatly, and I am interested in how it should progress. I suppose that it would be an interesting endeavor to see how it spans out fully, for I have not seen any deterioration within the objects that I have brought with me. I can only assume that I shall not be harmed by this process. 

I have been missing the company of Mother and Charlotte, and I have been reminiscing on the argument with father as well. I doubt that they stayed within town. The opportunity in the city greatly outweighs any effect my disappearance could have possibly made. I think that after I observe what happens to myself here, I shall leave and go find them. 

Perhaps my findings here could bring me some fortune… In any case, I must sincerely apologize to them. I suppose that this experiment of mine is just delaying the inevitable, but I’ll find them. I’ll make this right, just after this is all. 

I do love them. I hope that I may be forgiven. 

His fate was spelled out for you so plainly, and the irony was so palpable that it could’ve been in a movie. This didn’t feel real, like a story that was unfolding in real time. The shy but remorseful boy painted by words was nothing like the man only a few feet away.

But looking at the dates… This was all in the span of a month. It mirrored your situation very closely, except you were aware of the consequences of what would happen if you actually let the silver coloring consume you entirely. Some sick part of you felt a little guilty. Guilty that you had the chance to get out, guilty that if you did, you would leave him here. It didn’t really make much sense to you, but you thought of how he must’ve been before you came here: lamenting over his family he never had the chance to properly say goodbye to, wishing that he had done something different, wishing that he had someone there to stave off the crushing weight of nothingness that was this place. He had hoped and waited for a chance like you to appear, and this would probably be the last time he would get one. For a long time anyways. When you left, if you left, he’d be destroyed. That fact alone was awful, but it wasn’t your fault and you needed to go home. 

But… the more you read and the more you thought it over, why did it feel like he could’ve left at any time?

You let out a small laugh as it dawned on you. The journal didn’t go back too far, but it made sense, didn’t it? He didn’t spend the night here, he wasn’t forced to stay here until the next full moon. He chose to stay here, and he felt guilty for it too. Then why couldn’t you go?

Another page. Another utterance of your name from beyond the door.

I’ve been monitoring the progress of this process for a week now. It was a slow process in the beginning, yet I found that as the days have gone by, it has spread quite quickly. I find that I can no longer tell the difference from before I’ve gone through this transformation in regards to my surroundings . I believe that it will be a bit jarring to see such vibrancy . The new moon has passed. It won’t be long until I can return. It is my sincerest hope that my family will understand this erratic decision of mine.

You moved on to another day, skipping a few other entries. This one, you noted, was different from the others. The ink was smudged, and there were small indents that had the words run ever so slightly. Tears, if your shaky guess was correct. The loops of cursive was messier than anything that you had seen him write before, not even the hurried poetry he would jot down on the crisp days, sitting in a drawing room while you lazed about. There was a heaviness as you gently rolled the stiff paper between the pads in your fingers. You inhaled deeply through your nose, steadying yourself for something that felt monumental.

I’ve failed.

I can’t go back. The gate was wide enough for me to go through. I should have been able to go through. What have I done? Father and Mother I want to see them. I want to go back.

Is there a way to go back? I’ll have to see. Maybe when the full moon comes I can leave. It’s never done this before. I could always leave as long as the light part of the gate was large enough. I even put my hand through it the other day. Why? Why now? I’ve been trying for hours.

I can go back. I have to go back. I’m so exhausted, and my vision is so blurred I can barely see what I’m writing. 

I should go to sleep. I’ll try again tomorrow when I wake.

You inhaled sharply. He could leave? The entire time?

“ [Name]...You understand right?”

You looked up sharply, your chest rising and falling rapidly. How could you have been so stupid? He lied. It was as plain as day, and you fell for it. 

“ You never planned to let me go, did you?” Samuel didn’t say anything this time. Your voice had wavered slightly, hurt seeping into your question. Though, you weren’t really asking. You gulped slightly, choosing your next words carefully. “ You were just going to lock me here once the full moon came, right? Because after that, I’d have to stay here forever. With you.”

You didn’t dare to reveal that you knew that you’d be fully taken by the silver before then. That you could leave before then. You just wanted to hear him admit it. Admit that this entire time, while you had been struggling with the guilt of leaving him behind, he had never intended to let you go in the first place. From the moment he met you, from the moment he shattered porcelain across his feet, he had decided that you were his. You choked back a small sob, to hold back the tears of anger. 

You were leaving tonight. The gate should be wide enough for you to squeeze through by now, and based on the state of your skin, this would likely be the last chance that you had to escape. You smoothed back your hair from your face, your entire body shaking with nerves.

“ Do you know what it was like?” He asked, steady and emotionless. “ Everyday, with every book in here read? Every thought I had already written down? I lived with 100 years of nothingness. My main joy in life was to find garbage. And everyday, I hoped that I could leave, or that something in this fucking place would just change for once.”

“ And I thought that, eventually, I would die and finally be able to leave this place. But nothing, NOTHING ever happened! And I thought that I had come to peace with that, I truly did. But when you appeared that day, I felt like all this time I’ve wasted, all these thoughts and feelings that I could never do anything with, they weren’t useless. You gave me a reason to start looking forward to waking up, to cooking, to living again. You were the answer to everything [Name]. You are my reward for suffering here by myself for all of this time.”

You sat there, cold sweat clamming up your palms as you scooted back on the floor. Samuel laughed lowly, and this time, you couldn’t picture what he looked like. The sound was so sinister in a way that was so unlike anything before.

“ So no, I’m not letting you leave. I never intended you to,” he said plainly. “ Everything I promised you, it’s still yours. My loyalty, my love, my everything…It belongs to you as yours does to me. Soon, we shall be equal in more ways than one, and you’ll understand. I promise.”

Hours had passed since then, and you sat on the floor of your room with your back pressed against the cold, hard wall. The journal was held tightly to your chest as you kept your eyes trained on the door, blinking ever so slightly from exhaustion and nodding off in fitful bouts of sleep. The sudden movement of your head lolling to the side would jerk you out of “rest” that would find you. Honestly, you didn’t know how you hadn’t broken into hysterics by this point. Same went for throwing up as your stomach felt like a blackhole, collapsing in on itself in a swirl of bile, fear, and the small amount of food that you had reluctantly accepted.

But Samuel hadn’t moved from his spot. After his sudden outburst, you had heard him softly crying against the wood of your door. Whispering your name, saying how happy he was that you were here. Eventually, he slumped down with drowsiness, snoring quietly and mumbling “[Name]”, breathing it like it was air. You waited and waited, hoping that he would fall far enough under slumber that he wouldn’t notice the light creaking of the floorboards as you found your way to your shaky feet and approached the window. 

The cold, dry air dusted over your skin as you gripped the sill, preparing yourself to hoist yourself over for what you prayed would be the last time. You looked back at the small amount of light coming from the small crack under the entrance, and the way his shadow stretched underneath it. Your chest squeezed with empathy despite it all, like you were leaving behind a toy at the store that you decided to not take home after all. But at the end of the day, you had your reasons, and to stay here was sentencing yourself to misery. You turned back to the starry sky and took in a large gasp of air before you pressed up against the floor to finally put this all behind you.

Suddenly, the maws of pain closed in on your ankle as you fell to the ground with a loud thud. The splintering feeling radiating from your foot was accompanied with a loud crack as you realized the floor had broken under you. Horror raced up your spine as the sharp barbs of wood dug into your skin. 

“ Shit, shit shit!” you hissed out as you hurriedly sat up and began to wrench your leg out of the newly formed hole.                   

“[Name]?” Samuel called your name drowsily, concern hiding behind his slurred words. His dark figure cloaked yours in shadow as he shifted. You let out a panicked grunt as you pulled hard on your stuck foot. The splintered wood formed gashes on your silver skin, the blood shining bright red against the greyscale night, ruby and glittering. You stared breathlessly, your vision blurring with awe and illness. How could it be so beautiful? 

There was banging on the door, far louder than any attempts he made in the past. That shook you out of your pain induced stupor in a second, and you began kicking wildly to get out. You had to get out. Out of this hole, out of this room, out of this world and fast.

“[Name]? What happened?” He asked while jiggling the handle violently. “ [Name]!? Answer me!” 

There were thundering footsteps, the drumming of your heartbeat and pulse, and shouts of your name. It was so loud and frantic, and you screamed in agony as you finally ripped your ankle free from the fragmented wood just as the door was thrown open with a large crash. You scrambled up as Samuel stood in the doorway, looking at the crimson splattered across the ground and your hands. 

His front was hidden by the lack of light that graced his shoulders instead, but in that split second you could see how disheveled he had become. His face gaunt with worry and mania, his posture hunched and yearning. This was not the man you had felt the spark of attention for. This was a monster determined to drag you down with him. 

“[Name]!” he cried as you ambled up. The adrenaline coursing through you stamped out the agony that radiated up your form, made you ignore the way you trembled, told you to get the fuck out of there. His arms reached to circle you in a damning embrace, but you slapped him away as best as you could.

“ Don’t Touch me!” you screeched, but he continued to advance. You stumbled up against your vanity, pressed up against hard floral carving as you palmed around behind for anything solid enough that could find your hand. He lurched forward, and you smashed the object against his head with as much force as you could muster up. 

Gears and pieces of porcelain scattered through the air, shooting like comets as silver blood streamed like starlight from his cheek. Samuel cried out in anguish as the music box hit his eyes, ears, and features. He stumbled back in shock, clutching the side of his face as he looked at you with a mix of betrayal and anger. You stood there, eyes locked for a few moments before you dashed out of the room.

“[NAME]!” he screamed as you tore out of the room, scarlet falling behind you in a trail of sinew and desperation. Your feet, dirty and worn thumped against the floor halls of the complex as you ran as quickly as you could. 

Samuel was up after you in a matter of seconds, and you looked over your shoulder to look at him stumbling and crashing into the walls and railings. He groaned loudly, one of his silver eyes screwed shut. You tripped slightly, your limp becoming an increasing hindrance. But you had to get out. You had to go.

You passed by the courtyard, passed the drawing rooms filled with papers and sweet smiles, past the half finished painting of your worried face, past the monumental amount of books, past the softly glowing lanterns that swayed gently despite the chaos until you finally appeared in front of the gate. It sat there in its half moon glory at the end of a lonely path. 

You jumped off the wooden halls and cried out when the pressure couldn’t be held up by your injured foot, causing you to collapse suddenly. Samuel was quick to catch up as you frantically crawled forward. The dirt scraped against the unmarred skin of your forearms while you dragged yourself to freedom. Up ahead laid the few shards of the porcelain cup that he dropped upon the first sight of you, the ones by you leaving small lacerations on your knees and palms as you cursed wildly.

“[NAME]!” He shouted as he stepped down and gripped onto your waist, pulling you back as you clawed at the ground, only finding purchase in one of the pieces of the destroyed cup. He pulled you into his chest, his bruised arms squeezing you tightly. “[Name],” he said, more relieved as he pressed a small kiss at the top of your head. The blood from his lip that had just been busted ghosting on your crown. 

“ It’s alright, I’ve got you now. You’re just frantic right now, hysterical even. It’s fine. I’ll care for you, I swear. So please… Just stop fighting me. I love you [Name], so please just accept it,” he murmured, pain clear as he held you harshly. You cried out slightly, squirming around.

“ I know,” you spat out.

“ What?”

“ I know you lied. I know that I just have to go through that gate and I can leave you for good.”

“ No… No you’re wrong. No you can only leave on the full moon, remember,” he laughed in disbelief as he shook you, his hands gripping your arms as he turned you to face him. He was shaking as a manic smile fell on his lips.

“ I read your journal Samuel. You’re full of shit, and I’m getting the fuck out of here!” You yelled as you began to thrash, kicking and snapping at his arms. His smile dropped instantly as he coldly grabbed your throat. Your breath snared at that moment as he shoved you down onto the ground. The pearlescent brick dug into your back as you gurgled in surprise. He began to squeeze.

“ You don’t know anything.”

“ S-Samuel,” you choked out as you tried to pry his hands off your airway.

“ [Name], I love you. I love you so much, yet you don’t understand. How I’ve yearned for something like this. Just accept it. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure that you won’t be able to leave after this, and then you’ll know,” he gritted as black spots began to cloud your vision. Your nails scratched at his arms wildly, taking chunks of silvers down with them. No, no ,no you had to get out. This was it! This was your only chance!

“ I- I love you too. I- I see now. I’m sorry,” you wheezed as you raised a quivering hand to cup the side of his face. In the same manner that you had wished to only a few days ago, you stroked his cheek and wiped the blood from his eye. He visibly softened, lips parting and gaze shimmering with hope. You smiled through your tears when his hands stopped pressed down on your throat, and Samuel leaned into your touch. He whimpered quietly as he closed his eyes and shed a single tear, relishing in your affection for one moment. One moment where he had everything he had ever dreamed of, content for the first time in centuries. You wished that he would find happiness before, but as the fingers of your other hand gripped onto a shard of porcelain just within reach, you knew that he wouldn’t be able to find it in you.

With one final scream of rage, fear, and sorrow, you slashed him across his face. The beautiful starlit man cried in agony, more guttural than anything you had heard in your entire life, as you shoved him off of you and made a running start for the gate. He blindly fumbled around for you, wailing when he found no trace of your warmth.

“ DON’T GO! PLEASE!” He screamed, desperately trying to push himself off of the ground. “ STAY WITH ME!”  His eyes, silver and filled with every emotion known to man, settled on you through blood and tears as you sprinted towards the half moon. ”[NAME]!!!!” He cried one last time before you jumped through, not even bothering to look at his pitiful state.

The world slurred around you in a cacophony of screams, silver, and the brightest of reds. It felt like you were in complete darkness, coated in anguish and regret, and then you couldn’t breathe. You fought, you struggled even with everything weighing you down, and eventually, you were able to take a gasp of air. You struggled for a moment before realizing that you were sopping wet and sitting in the middle of the pond that you had originally fallen into.

The clearing was still quiet as you scrambled out, slipping on damp grass and slick mud. You were filthy, with your clothes plastered to your skin. Not to mention it was absolutely freezing, cold ripping into your injury and fragile state. You swiped the water off your face, and when you caught sight of your fingers you laughed in relief. The noise ripped from your sore throat as the silver color of the realm slowly bled out from your skin, your color returning to its original hue. You had done it.

You cackled loudly as you fell back, looking up at the bright half moon, smiling down at you and your success. The moist grass wasn’t comfy, but you let yourself sink into it, simply too tired to care. And when your joy had passed, you stretched out your palms to the sky, imagined a heartbroken Samuel bleeding and weeping your name, and you too began to cry. 

[robobarbie]

Building legos with toasty would be so cute 🥺🥺🥺

ANOTHER BANGER ALLIE RESPONSE

------

"Okay, so we've got Starry Night, Tiny Plants, or the Tranquil Garden."

Toaster pored over the boxes, turning one over to read the back. "What if we worked on Tiny Plants together?"

"Oh, sure! Dump it out and we'll get started."

He hummed in contentment as he ran a nail under the box flap, dutifully pouring bags of pieces out onto the mat you'd set up. The excitement of shopping for kits to work on earlier had settled into a calmer vibe, helped in part by your joint "chill times" playlist in the background.

"Wait, is this track from–"

"Yeah! I added it after we played last night. Do you like it?"

"Yeah. I do." Toasty smiled. "We'll have to do it again sometime, find more playlist candidates."

"I'd like that." You smiled back, passing over a bag of pieces.

---

The two of you made quick work of the sets, mostly in a comfortable silence with quiet tunes and the snapping of pieces as your backdrop. A couple times Toasty took your hand as you reached for a piece, rubbing his thumb over its back before letting it go. You both showed off your finished plants with cheesy grins, building your small plastic garden, until you stuffed the last empty bag back in the box and sat back to admire your work together.

"They came out pretty good! I think I like the little Venus flytrap the best."

"I like the one with the weird red leaves, the uh–" Toasty squinted, "red sundew? That one. It's fun to run your finger over 'em."

"Fair enough." You sighed, resting against Toasty's side as you leaned your head on their shoulder. "We should put them around the house."

"Hmm. We should." Toaster absentmindedly reached for your hand, holding it for longer now, and gave it a gentle squeeze. You squeezed back and he leaned his head on yours with a soft huff. Your breathing slowed, and synced with his.

The moment held. The music played. The space around you felt just a little more like home.

[beefcakekinard]

[<- part one] ~ ~ ~ [part three ->]

'A few more minutes' lasts about half an hour, and the only reason it isn't any longer is that Buck's bladder finally wakes up and makes itself known. He grumbles as he peels himself off of Tommy and grumbles as he brushes his teeth. When Buck shuffles out of the bathroom in his slippers, he follows the scent of bacon through Tommy's house to the kitchen.

Breakfast is quick, and quiet - Buck's on his second cup of coffee as he finishes eating, and he's still waiting to feel his first.

"Here," Tommy says, reaching for Buck's plate. "I'll get the dishes, you pick out what you want to put on."

Buck yanks his plate back. "I don't think so. You cooked, I'll do dishes." Tommy raises his eyebrow and they stand off for a moment - Buck can practically hear Chim whistling that cowboy tune.

Tommy rolls his eyes when he relinquishes the plate, but he can't hide his smile. "Alright. What do you want to watch? I can get it ready."

Buck shrugs and starts gathering the rest of the dishes. "I don't really care, as long as it's not Hitchcock."

"You heathen," Tommy says. He leans in close, presses a kiss to Buck's forehead over his birthmark, and cops a squeeze of his ass. Buck kicks at him and rolls his eyes as Tommy chuckles his way to the living room.

The dishes gathered into the dishwasher and the skillet drying on the counter, Buck wanders into the living room, his slippers tapping quietly on the hardwood. He finds Tommy on the couch with basketball highlights playing on the TV and a stack of DVDs on the coffee table.

"Babe, you're single-handedly keeping DVD printers in business," Buck says, taking his own seat on the couch. "What's the verdict?"

Tommy raises his eyebrow. "The Criterion Collection alone sells an estimated-"

"Kidding, I was kidding!" Buck says, shoving a pillow into Tommy's face and laughing at how he squawks. There's a wrestling match for it, which Buck yields, only to ruffle his hand through Tommy's hair.

"Our options," Tommy says, fruitlessly trying to smooth his hair down and gesturing at the stack of DVD cases on the table. "I didn't know what you're in the mood for, it doesn't have to be any of these."

Buck picks up the stack and shuffles through it - there's two box sets, for Planet Earth II and The Lord of the Rings, and underneath those, a slimmer case for My Big Fat Greek Wedding. He spreads them out across his lap and considers them, looking between each of the covers.

"Here," he says, holding up My Big Fat Greek Wedding.

"What, really?" Tommy asks, looking bewildered. "Is it my birthday or something?"

Buck shoves at his shoulder. "What, I can't want to watch a rom com? I can't be in the mood for romance when I'm with my boyfriend?"

Buck loves saying that word. When they had the labels conversation, Tommy floated the 'partner' option, but there's nothing like the thrill he gets from being able to say 'my boyfriend'. He gets such a thrill from it, actually, that his coworkers have started to drop hints that he's maybe over-using it a tad. Screw them, he's happy.

Predictably, Tommy's face goes all gooey and soft. That's the best part about the whole 'boyfriend' thing - Buck knows he's not alone in loving it. "Alright, whatever you say," Tommy says.

He gets up, takes the DVD from Buck, and gets everything ready. Buck wastes no time when Tommy returns to the couch: he's sprawled over Tommy's side even before the opening music starts playing, Tommy's arm around his shoulders, his fingers tapping along to the music on Buck's bicep. The movie doesn't matter, not really, not when this is what Buck was looking for.

[<- part one] ~ ~ ~ [part three ->]

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Zombie Stomp

Prologue: Fade To Black

I’m an attention whore, so any thoughts from anyone are greatly appreciated :)

Ao3 Link

Eddie moves his body awkwardly to his Uncle’s old boombox. His palms sweat as his fingers slide over the buttons, a soft clicking noise leaving when he presses down.

Behind him, on his bed was one of the first breathtaking boys he’s seen in a while. Eddie’s standards may be low as Robert was the new line cook at Benny’s. Eddie couldn’t be picky. He was a gay man in Hawkins, Indiana. It wasn’t every day you saw an out-and-proud queer walking down the street. Or have one that isn’t out in your bed possibly leaving a grease stain on your mattress and your record.

The Gays flocked out of Hawkin’s faster than they came. Eddie would too if his Uncle didn’t live here.

Uncle Wayne was currently on an overnight shift, thank god. The stars seemed to be aligning for Eddie to get laid, finally. At twenty he was going to lose his virginity. Thank Fuck. ‘86 was going to be his year. He was sure of it.

Turning away from the box he starts to go through his cassettes. In the movies, they normally had music playing in the background. Even in the limited amount of porn Eddie’s seen, there was some tune on.

With that knowledge, Eddie doesn’t think he has a good cassette for this setting. That was a strange realization for him as his music normally fit everything he did. So unless Robert could get it up to Black Sabbath he was out of luck in the music department.

“You like Black Sabbath?” Eddie asks, his voice scratchy from nerves.

Eddie was sure he was going to somehow fuck this up like everything else he did. He turns his body at a slight angle to look at Robert, trying to distract himself from overthinking.

The other man was tilting his head around inspecting his room. Eddie rarely had anyone in here. He was nervous the mess would disgust Robert.

“Uh… who’s that?” Robert asks in a tone that almost turns Eddie off.

Eddie bites his tongue, holding back a sassy remark. He didn’t want to be a dick to what may be his only opportunity with another man. This was his shot to lose his virginity before he was legally able to enter a gay bar. He wanted a little experience under his belt before he had anything else underneath him.

“Um- It’s a uh…” Eddie’s voice cracks. He clears his throat before beginning again. “It’s a band from the seventies. You may have heard of the lead singer. Ozzy Osbourne? That guy who bit a bat’s head off,” Eddie rambles.

“Never heard of her,” Robert admits, beginning to chew on his gum obnoxiously. Eddies suspicions that the other wasn’t listening to him were proven correct.

The longer Eddie spent time with Robert the more annoyed he got. The guy didn’t seem all that interested in Eddie. Not like he had been at the restaurant.

“Hey man, I don’t care what you put on. It’s not like I’m listening to it anyway,” He snorts slightly.

Eddie was starting to think that Robert might be one of the most unattractive men he’s ever met.

“Yeah, alright- alright, yeah, no. No music should be fine then. Silence is probably better than what I have here.” He jokes, cringing at himself feeling like he just disrespected the metal gods. He just wanted to break the awkward tension that was slowly beginning to fall over them.

Eddie moves away from his cassettes, still fidgety and unable to stand put. He knows his nerves made the antsy feeling that never let him sit still worse. Normally he would smoke a joint, but his gut told him that he shouldn’t get high right now. Not with this man who could barely pay attention long enough to get Ozzy’s pronouns right.

Robert responds with a soft grunting noise. Eddie’s body tenses up. He was slowly starting to think that Robert didn’t want to be here. It had been his idea in the first place, now he was acting like Eddie’s pulling his teeth.

“Robert, do you even-” Eddie starts as Robert speaks.

“Why don’t we get this show on the road, huh?” Robert hums out, unbothered that he interrupted Eddie. He doesn’t apologize or wait to hear what Eddie has to say.

That doesn’t sit well with Eddie. If he wasn’t such a chicken shit he would stop this entire thing. He couldn’t. Not while Robert was giving him that look. The same one that led them here after closing Benny’s, and was beginning to spark Eddie’s interest again. Despite all the warning signs pointing to a terrible first time.

The other man begins to pat his lap suggestively. Eddie’s unsure whether he was feeling uncomfortable, or realizing this was all a phase. He did know he wasn’t enjoying himself like he thought he would. He also knew that the voice telling him to get this over with was the devil on his shoulder. He pictured a little demonic queer on his right and a perfectly straight angel on his left.

He moves forward, carefully placing himself in Robert’s lap. He begins to chuckle awkwardly as he realizes he doesn’t know what to do with his limbs, expecting instruction. Instead, Robert moves forward beginning to mess with Eddie’s belt silently. The only noise was the gentle clinking from Robert struggling to get his belt undone.

This is when Eddie realizes that he isn’t hard. He had been earlier when Robert pulled him behind his van to whisper about what he wanted to do to him. Now, his Dick wasn’t responding and Eddie doesn’t think it could be brought back to life. Not even with mouth-to-mouth.

Robert doesn’t seem to be bothered by this, he just begins to kiss up Eddie’s neck. Eddie scrunches his nose up in disgust at how sloppy the other was being. Plus he didn’t see Robert pull his gum out. That made Eddie uncomfortable, worried that the other might get gum in his hair.

After a moment of hyping himself up, Eddie opens his mouth to speak. Robert interrupts him again.

“Gotta relax baby.” A soft chuckle tickles Eddie’s neck before Eddie begins to feel the other’s tongue.

Ok, Eddie thinks he might throw up.

He pushes back with the other still stuck to his neck like a leech. As if he was trying to suck the fruitiness out of Eddie, he was currently succeeding. Not in a good way.

Eddie’s about to rip Robert a new one or consider setting him on fire when his door flies open.

“Eddie pack your shit we-” His Uncle was now in his doorway looking distressed.

Eddie freezes in Robert’s lap. He's starting to believe that God put a curse on him. First, he’s a gay man trapped in the middle of bum fuck nowhere. Second, he couldn’t even find a decent gay to fuck around with. To top it all off his Uncle, who was supposed to be at work, was currently standing in his doorway seeing him in all his faggot glory.

Eddie’s eyes are wide. His heart beats fast in his chest, possibly skipping a few. He can’t bring himself to move from Robert. It was like his limbs were frozen.

Robert on the other hand doesn’t waste a second. He shoves Eddie onto his ass and to the floor. He buckles his belt, which Eddie didn’t realize was undone, before frantically pushing past Wayne. The front door softly shuts behind him.

Wayne doesn’t break eye contact. Eddie’s ears begin to ring. His head went light as his hands shook. All he was able to process was, “...Pack your shit…”

Eddie Munson was getting kicked out, again. You would think he would be a pro at this. But no, he sat there on his ass having a panic attack.

Only if his father could see him now. Probably would call him a little bitch like he had when he kicked Eddie out.

His body goes on autopilot, suddenly standing up and picking clothes off the floor. Eddie doesn’t know when he grabbed his duffle bag, the one he saved for this exact purpose, but he was now stuffing clothes inside it.

Eddie had always expected this to happen when Wayne found out. What he didn’t predict was how hurt he was going to feel. He promised himself after his father that he wasn’t going to let anyone see him like this ever again. Yet here he was, crying like a little bitch.

Eddie could barely feel the tears running down his face. Nor did he feel Wayne’s hands move to his shoulders until they lightly squeezed. A feeble attempt to grab Eddie’s attention.

“Eddie,” Wayne’s voice was soft. Whatever he came in so distressed about was forgotten for just a second.

Eddie’s shoulders tense, and he clenches his jaw preparing to hear his Uncle become a bigot right behind him. His hands stopped doing what they were doing. He digs his nails into the palms of his hands in hopes that it hurts more than this.

He doesn’t turn his head around, not wanting a black eye if that's what Wayne wants to give him. His snot rolls down his face and pools above his lip. He sniffles loudly, wiping the snot from his face into his sleeve.

Eddie was a wet mess. Not in the way he had expected or wanted.

“I- Uh,” Wayne pauses to clear his throat. “I love you, Eds.” The words come out awkwardly and foreign.

Eddie flinches expecting to hear something else. Furrowing his eyebrows confused he turns his head to look at his Uncle. Within the time he has lived in this trailer, Wayne has never spoken those words to him. They knew they loved each other. It was left unspoken and in a grey area, they avoided.

“You.. you what?” Eddie asks stunned. His eyes were wide and puffy as he blinked slowly, feeling as if he was hallucinating. Was this entire scenario just him having a psychotic break? Or was he having a sick nightmare in some conversion camp right now?

“I love you, Eddie,” Wayne speaks, his voice growing more confident as he says it. “And I don’t care who you’re uh,” He pauses awkwardly.

“Who yer romantically involved with. Just as long as you wrap it, and I don’t hear you doing your thing.” Wayne coughs a little. His face was going a light pink, the color reaching to the top of his head.

“You don’t care that I’m a faggot?” Eddie asks in disbelief. “A raging homo, a queer, a fairy, a…” he begins to ramble out. He wants it to be clear what he is to his Uncle. He may have not enjoyed Robert like he had thought he would, but he still got pretty worked up over Ozzy’s chest hair. There was fruitiness a foot and inside Eddie.

“Boy,” Wayne’s voice raises to what Eddie thought it would when he first found him. “If I ever hear you talk about yourself like that ever again, I’ll - I’ll make sure to - well I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’ll make sure you won’t be talking like that ever again.” Wayne huffs out.

A determination in his eye that Eddie hasn’t seen since he first moved in. Wayne had sat him down all of those years ago. Looked him in the eye like he was now and told him he was never going back to his father. Not if he was still breathing and around to have any say about it.

Eddie opens his mouth, feeling like a goldfish trapped in a bowl. Nowhere to go or hide.

“Now, you do need to pack your shit,” Wayne says seriously. “That thing making people turn on each other is in Hawkins. And people already give you enough shit for DnD. Don’t need you getting eaten alive just because they think you’re the devil reincarnated.”

Wayne pulls his hands off Eddie’s shoulders. Then moves calmly to his bedroom door, though something is still off with him. As if he knew something Eddie didn’t.

Eddie just nods his head dumbly, not questioning it. He didn’t want to push the limited amount of luck he had. He was grateful that he wasn’t covered in bruises and on the side of the road again.

****

The man’s face had been covered in so much blood that there was no way of identifying him. Eddie had been carrying the last of their packed bags out to his van when he saw him. The man walked around like it was normal to be covered in blood, nothing frantic in the way he moved. That was the first alarm bell that should have gone off to Eddie.

Eddie was too focused on trying to recognize who it was, so he could ask him if he was alright. It could be Jim, from two trailers down; a man who used to babysit Eddie. Though going off from the limited amount of hair it was more likely George, a middle aged man who was always walking his dogs Or Liam, a police officer that lived closer to the entrance of the trailer park and once busted Eddie for dealing.

Eddie shakily breathes, feeling as if his chest was going to explode. His ears were ringing, his head was foggy and for some reason all he could see were the man’s eyes. They were bloodshot, as if he had or was still crying. His eyes were wide, afraid of something. Of what Eddie hadn’t known. The red was slowly beginning to leak into the man’s iris. Eddie wondered how he was able to see.

Eddie felt his bones ache, reminded of the sound the man’s jaw had made. The loud cracking noise as if it was dislocating itself. The bottom jaw had moved and fell open, the man having no control of it. Though at the same time it looked like he was trying to speak. His face pinched up as a pained groan left him.

From where Eddie stood he could see bits of meat stuck in between the man's teeth as his mouth opened further. Blood slowly dripped down his chin. Instead of words a soft clicking noise came out. Eddie was slowly starting to panic. There was something off about this man. It didn’t seem like he was trying to come over to recieve help.

“Eddie.”

The more Eddie watched him, the more suspicious the other was becoming. From how he walked something didn’t seem right, as if the man hadn’t been a human a day in his life.

Eddie doesn’t believe in skinwalkers. He’s heard a tale or two from his uncle warning him how people could be possessed by one but he never believed him. Now, watching this man he can’t help but believe that this may be a skinwalker. It was irrational and not logical but there was nothing rational with how this man walked.

The bones in his legs were visibly sliding through his skin. The more Eddie observed that’s when he catches the huge chunk of meat slowly sliding behind him. How he hadn’t noticed sooner was odd.

“Boy,”

How could anyone not notice that they were leaving a bloody snail trail behind them? What was scarier than the leg was the noises he made.

The more he moves the louder the groans become. Each time the man tilted his head a soft clicking noise would follow and his eyes would begin to squint.

Eddie took a step back from the van, hearing the trailer door opening with a loud creak as this man or thing came towards him.

“Eddie!”

Eddie could hear his Uncle yelling as the man started to stumble forward faster. As if he was finally processing Eddie was there.

A sudden bang echoed in the trailer park. Eddie doesn’t get enough time to even process that his Uncle was the one who shot the man thing before the loud ringing began. It’s so loud it makes his eyes go foggy and he isn’t even sure he’s really in the trailer park anymore, or if he even had been. Time was moving slowly and then fast forwarding on repeat.

It seems like forever before Eddie’s eyes slowly begin to focus again. The ringing stops. The only sound he could hear was loud breathing. He barely recognizes that it was coming from him.

“Ed’s?” Wayne was leaning over the van. His hand was awkwardly floating an inch above Eddie’s shoulder as if he were afraid to touch him.

Eddie blinks confused. He wasn’t sure what just happened or how he got in the passenger of the van. He had been outside of their trailer just a second ago. Watching as someone’s head gets blown off by Wayne’s shotgun.

He glances around, looking out the window, trying to place where he was.

They were now pulled to the side of the road, right in front of the ‘leaving Hawkins’ sign. It was as if Eddie lost a portion of time. Where it went he was unsure. What he did know was he needed to get out of this van.

Before his Uncle could stop him he’s standing on the side of the road. Dropping to his knees, not caring how bad the pavement hurt. Crouching forward he aims for the grass before he begins to throw up. Tears fell down his face as his throat began to burn. It was painful enough that he had to cough in between small breaks, before he was hurling more.

He lets out a pathetic whine before he vomits each time. Feeling his hair being pulled back with a slight tug. A hand, which he assumes is Wayne’s, begins to rub gently at the knots of his now tense shoulders.

When he’s finished he’s pretty worn out. He could barely keep his eyes open. He leans back, scrunching his nose up before he’s moving to stand. Stumbling into Wayne, before pushing himself away from the other.

He opens his mouth, his hair falling back down his shoulders. Eddie’s looking at his Uncle and he doesn’t know what to say. He just watched his Uncle kill someone and he doesn’t know how to react.

“Wayne,” Eddie’s voice cracks. Tears were rolling down his face. He was having some difficulty breathing or getting words out.

Trying to compose himself he takes a deep shaky breath that hurts his chest.

“You killed him.”

“Eddie-” Wayne starts, hands moving in the air in an ‘Everything is alright’ gesture. He tries to speak but Eddie doesn’t let him.

“No Wayne, you killed that man. What if he had children?” Eddie hisses out. Stumbling back a little more. He felt drunk with how bad his balance was.

“Kid, will you listen to me.” Wayne pleads, “That wasn’t no man anymore. You’ve heard the radio talking about people going nuts. How they’re biting chunks out of people.”

Eddie listens. He has no choice but to. He thinks back to that guy's mouth. How it was covered in blood, mixed with fresh and dried. The way he barely reacted to a piece of his leg dragging behind him. Not only that but for a split moment Eddie had thought the man was a skinwalker. Something that Eddie has been arguing wasn’t real to his uncle for years.

Everything Wayne was bringing up was making since, as Eddie did hear those news reports. Even heard stories from kids in school.

Eddie’s speechless. He doesn’t know what to say. His mouth opens, trying to make a small attempt before it closes. A moment of uncertainty falls over the two of them before Eddie decides he believes his Uncle.

He moves forward without thinking, not afraid to bury himself in his Uncle's arms. Both of them have tears rolling down their faces. Neither of them would ever mention it. Instead, Eddie focuses on the soft, warm breaths that tickle the top of his head. How his arms wrapped tightly around Wayne’s middle. The way Wayne returns the hug, holding Eddie tightly as if he were afraid Eddie was going to disappear.

Eddie squeezes the other gently, as a reminder that he was there and very much real. When they finally separate Eddie looks his Uncle in the eyes. He may not know much right now, but does know he can’t ever lose Wayne. No matter what.

[crackedpumpkin]

|| ɪɴꜰᴜʀɪᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴍᴇʟᴏᴅɪᴇꜱ || ꜱᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇ! ᴀᴜ ||

a/n: guess who procrastinated and ended up writing a thing :) 

In all seriousness I’m a complete and utter simp for Cole Brookstone and he is unreasonably attractive in looks personality and everything in between, especially for a goddamn lego man.

Playlist reference: https://youtu.be/j45ogZNaCis

Soulmate AU: Everyone has a soulmate designated to them since the moment they’re born. The tell-tale sign to single them out are the fact that you can hear what songs the other is listening to at any moment of the day.

Ugh. Not this again.

You groan, sitting up as the all-too-familiar sound of soft rock starts playing in the back of your mind. You shake your head slightly to rid the grogginess threatening to lull you back into comforting sleep.

You grab your headphones, immediately sliding them onto your ears as the soothing sound of chill pop music quickly drowns out the soft rock. On the bright side, it means that your soulmate exists.

On the other hand, it also means that whoever they are, they get up at ungodly hours of the day.

You stare blearily at the digital clock.

Five AM. 

You'd gotten used to the routine by now, but the days when your soulmate slept in were few and far between. Nonetheless, it's surprisingly boosted your productivity since the music started playing a couple months ago. 

"Stop it already!" 

You grumble, grabbing a pillow and covering your face with it. You press your face harder into the soft material, willing with all your might for the music to stop.

It'd been three days since it had started, and you abhorred every second. 

It was annoying, repetitive, and not your preferred genre at all.

You'd seen many compatible couples with similar music tastes, so why was your soulmate so adamant about having such lousy taste in tunes? Feeling bitter, you decide to drown it out with a playlist of your own. It was custom-made by you, and it took you ages(half a year, to be exact) to put it together.

It was a compilation of your favourite songs and the exact opposite of your soulmate's preference. You knew it annoyed them because every time you played a specific song they hated, they'd play something else you usually shut out in the first three seconds by aggressively playing the music they disliked on repeat.

It took a while, but you had finally called a truce(for now) with your soulmate by playing one of their favourite songs, and they begrudgingly did the same for you in return. 

Your friends were weirded out when you first revealed that you hated your soulmate's music taste. Obviously, they had never faced that issue. You were met with confused questions, your friends clueless and oblivious that people could dislike their soulmates. 

It was a foreign concept, but it was one that you were living. 

At first, you were excited that you could finally hear the songs your soulmate liked to listen to. 

That same excitement soon morphed into disdain for the genre they listened to. 

Now, you survey the bedroom you're in, taking note of all the scattered cardboard boxes. They were filled to the brim with various items of yours, some containing knick-knacks you've picked up randomly off the streets or in night markets. 

"Are you ready to go?" You turn your attention to your mother entering your room. She eyes the mess with a disapproving gaze, and you smile weakly. "I'll clear it up before the moving vans come?" You negotiate, hoping to escape an earful after getting out of bed so early.

She sighs. "Fine, but make it quick." She leaves the room with a pointed glare, shutting the door behind her. You sigh in relief, grabbing a roll of duct tape from your dresser and taping the boxes shut. You grab a marker and label each box with the contents inside.

 It took a while, but you were finally done. You wipe the sweat off your brow, glancing around at the now neatly packed and stacked boxes, arranging the last one in front of you. You grab the bag you had packed the night before, all the necessities inside. By now, the music from your soulmate had stopped playing(thank god for that), and you were halfway through your playlist. 

"Ready to go?" Your dad calls from outside. 

"Yeah, coming down in a sec!" You yell back, standing in the doorway. You look back at your room. The gentle sunlight shining through the bare windows breathed life into the room and the curtains that once decorated the small window seat. Where your bed once sat was empty with the polished mahogany wood underneath. 

Endless nights of laying in your plush bed with your bedside lamp's dim yet warm glow seemed so distant in your memories. Your hand lingers on the doorknob, mumbling a soft goodbye before shutting the door and heading downstairs to where your parents are waiting.

"Are your friends not seeing you off?" You're immediately greeted with a question as soon as you shut the car door, sitting in the back. You look up to see your dad looking at you with a raised brow, waiting patiently for your answer. You pause the music, and the sweet sound of silence greets your ears.

"Yeah, we already said our goodbyes yesterday." You reply with a shrug. Alicia and the rest of your friends brought you out for dinner at the pizza place you often frequented, and you spent the night giggling and reminiscing past memories. 

They dropped you off at two AM, and you snuck into the house without anyone noticing. Your friends had made you promise to text often, and you'd definitely update them as soon as you reached Ninjago City. 

Your dad seems satisfied with your answer and starts driving off. 

Your phone beeps and you pull it out to see messages from your friends. 

'Send souvenirs! Or face my wrath when we meet up again.' - Alicia

'Brooo' - Brenden, image.jpeg attached.

'Call when you reach! And make sure you drink plenty of water, you dehydrated fungus.' - Nico

You giggle at the messages, opening up the group chat to see a short video they filmed in the morning before school. You slide your headphones onto your ears, pressing play.

"Yo, have a safe trip or whatever!" Brenden's black hair is frizzy and unkempt, a clear sign that Alicia had probably dragged him out of bed for this. He's shoved aside, and the phone is grabbed, a familiar face coming close to the camera. 

"Nico, she can't see your face properly if you hog the camera!" Alicia complains, grabbing Nico by her coat and snatching the phone away. A head of red hair comes into view, a stark contrast to the shy brunette beside her. 

"Bring souvenirs!! I heard that the candy over there is to die for." Alicia demands with a bright grin, and you roll your eyes. 

"Guys, Ms. Fergurson is coming!" Nico warns. 

Alarm is apparent in all of their eyes. "Oh god, okay, we gotta go now, or we'll get caught! Bye, Y/n, love you stinky three thousand." The video is cut short, and you stifle a laugh at the sudden ending.

'Thanks guys, love you stinky three thousand.' 

You quickly type out the response and continue to scroll through Instagram for the remaining time it takes to get to the capital city. 

You stir, eyes fluttering open at the annoying sound of drilling and construction. You blink a few times, sitting up from where you had slumped against the window while you slept. Your vision clears, and you move your hands away to see bright lights and skyscrapers galore around you. 

You're here. 

Ninjago City is filled to the brim with people and endless traffic. Your dad scowls at the long line of cars in front of him, glaring at the red light that seems to take forever to turn green. 

"That's the school you'll be attending tomorrow." Your mum points out from the passenger seat, and you follow the direction she's pointing to. You stare at the large school on the right. 

‘Ninjago High School’

You hum in thought, already filled with anxiety for the following day. It didn't help that you were from the outskirts and had a different(and probably lacking) curriculum. You fiddle with the games on your phone, focusing intently on beating the next level of Candy Crush. 

You mumble a cuss when 'Game Over' appears on the colourful screen, and your mum instantly turns with a suspicious gaze. You smile nervously, trying to play it off as though you hadn't said anything. 

She turns back around, choosing to let it pass. 

You stare out the window, watching the shops pass by in a blur until you spot one that catches your eye. "Dad, could you drop me off here?" He doesn't question your sudden request, making a turn and parking next to the sidewalk. 

You open the car door and exit, looking up at the sign on the storefront. 

'Ninjago Doomsday Comix'

"There's a Chinese takeout nearby if you wanna grab dinner before meeting us at the new house." Your dad has a GPS pulled up on his phone, texting you the address of your new home. 

"Yeah, I'll grab some food on the way back. Gonna take a look around the place, y'know, before I get lost tomorrow." You joke. You adjust the straps of your small bag before settling it in a comfortable position on your back. 

"See you later then, kiddo. Call us if anything happens. Should be safe since those ninjas are around." 

Before you can question what he means, he drives off with all the rest of your luggage. 

"...Ninjas?" You mumble in confusion before shrugging it off. You were lucky that your dad had visited the city multiple times on business trips and that he was primarily a hands-off parent. Your mum usually just went along with his whims. 

The door swings open easily, a jingle catching you off guard. A man at the cashier counter greets you with a friendly grin that eases your nerves, and you walk up to him. 

"Hi, do you know where to find Starfarer comics?" 

"Well, right here, of course!" You cringe at his response, realizing how poorly worded your question was. It elicits a chuckle from the man in front of you. 

"Just kidding. I'm Rufus, Rufus McAllister, or you can call me Mother Doomsday. You're a new face around these parts. What's your name?" 

"Uhm, I'm Y/n. I just moved here, so maybe that's why." You reply, clutching the straps of your bag with a small smile at the friendly man.

"Well, welcome to Ninjago City! I hope the city treats you well. We got the ninja protecting us, so that's added security too." 

Your brows furrow, wondering why everyone around you knew what these ninjas were, but you had no clue. "Ninja?" 

Rufus pauses with his lips parted, seemingly processing your words. A relaxed grin slowly forms on his lips, and he waves off your question. "You'll find out soon enough." He glances towards a specific aisle, seemingly contemplating. 

"It should be fine then…." He mumbles. You're just lost in where this conversation had ended up. 

"Aisle Eight is where we keep the best-stocked Starfarer comics." He gestures to the area he had been staring at earlier. You thank him with a brief nod, walking over. 

The aisle is relatively empty, save for two other people. A blonde guy in a green hoodie is flipping through the latest issue of Starfarer with keen interest, engrossed in the colourful pages.

Next to him is another boy with slightly wavy and choppy black hair, the smooth and silky strands making you both envious and curious about his hair care routine. In contrast to his friend(you assumed), he regards you with a suspicious gaze. 

He’s kinda cute.

You find it odd, feeling mildly unsettled by the intense stare he gave you. It wasn't a good one; it was more on the wary side than interested. You brush it off, ignoring the pair and scouring the shelves for issue number three.

You finally find the issue you're looking for, but it's directly opposite the pair. 

After all, what would you be if not cursed with bad coincidence?

You practically tiptoe over, clearing your throat slightly as you grab the comic book and start reading. Green Hoodie(Greenie, you decide to nickname) looks up in surprise, only now noticing your presence. Mr. Grumpy Pants(The nickname suits him perfectly), on the other hand, doesn't bother hiding the grimace on his lips at your presence, looking away.

You stiffen, eyes narrowing into a glare.

Rude.

Greenie hits his friend's shoulder in a light punch, looking at you with an expression of apology. 

"She should be fine. Rufus wouldn't send anyone over here without vetting them first." Greenie whispers to Mr. Grumpy Pants, referring to his earlier behaviour.

"Yeah, but what if they're…you know? I don't want another repeat of what happened with Jay." 

Damn.

You almost drop the comic book in your hands, caught off guard by how attractive Mr Grumpy Pant’s voice is. You tense, now more aware of their presence. Even though you don't want to eavesdrop, you can't help how your ears practically perk up, hoping to hear more of the deep voice from earlier. 

Plus, they weren't doing a very good job of keeping their conversation a secret.

"I trust Rufus. He's a good friend." 

"...Maybe." 

"Is that…? OMG! It's them!!"

You're interrupted from blankly staring at the same page for the past fifteen minutes, having focused on the conversation behind you, though the pair had stopped talking a while ago.

You look up at the store's glass windows, startled by the sudden sight of a group of girls pressed against the glass, staring intently at the two boys behind you. 

"Oh no." You watch all the color drain from Greenie's face while Mr. Grumpy Pants smacks his palm against his face, sliding it down and sighing heavily with an utterly defeated expression. 

"Not again…" You hear him mutter.

The girls grab their phones, snapping photos of them. You realize that you're probably in them, too, considering the lack of distance between you both. 

"Girls, there's the door!!" The tallest and most commandeering of the group holds open the entrance to the comic book store, and they swarm towards it.

"Cole, run!!!" Greenie yells, taking off to the back door that Rufus quickly ushers them both through. You grab the issue of Starfarer that Greenie dropped on the floor in his hasty exit, watching the fabric of Cole's shirt almost get stuck in the doorway.

At least now you know Mr. Grumpy Pant's name. 

You place both the comics back on the shelf, leaving with a quick wave to Rufus, who nods goodbye. You pull out your phone, look up directions to the Chinese Takeout store and slowly make your way there. You grab your earbuds, put them both in your ears and start your playlist from the beginning.

You're next to an alleyway, just steps away from the Chinese Takeout, when your arm is grabbed and pulled into an alleyway next to you. A yelp rips free from your chest, losing your balance and almost fall. 

A strong and warm arm holds yours firmly, pressing you against the cold brick wall. Your eyes automatically squeeze shut when your back hits the wall with a grunt, opening your eyes to see Mr. Grumpy Pants from earlier. 

His hand is pressed firmly against your mouth, and your hands curl into fists, punching his chest weakly. Unfortunately, your body's affinity to whatever created muscles in your body was little, making you regret not going to the gym after years of procrastination.

He shushes you, and you only just notice his pinched brows and the shine of sweat on his forehead. You hear the gradual approach of his fangirls and realize that he had tugged you behind a wall that separated into a small alcove, out of sight from the sidewalk you were on earlier.

"Turn that nauseating song off." Cole winces, muttering through clenched teeth. Your punches slow to a stop, confused by his words. He grabs your phone out of your hands, pressing pause on your beloved playlist. You allow him to do so, your mind blank and realization slowly dawning on you. 

Your eyes widen in shock, staring up at his stupidly handsome face. His dark brown eyes are filled with the fear of being caught, and you catch yourself admiring the shaggy black hair that frames his face in the most annoyingly perfect manner.

Your mind races with incoherent thoughts, but one sticks out like a sore thumb.

Your soulmate's a celebrity?

You'd think that being a celebrity would mean that his music taste would be of at least adequate quality.

"Am I getting kidnapped right now?" You voice out the most pressing concern on your mind, though it comes out muffled. He turns back to face you with an incredulous expression.

"You don't know who I am?" His voice is hushed, waiting for the horde of fangirls to run past your hiding spot. 

Your eyes narrow, pushing his hand off of where it's placed on your shoulders. You try to ignore the tingle his touch leaves behind that spreads to your hands and how his choppy bangs somehow manage to fall over his eyes in a somewhat attractive manner when he turns to face you. 

"In the past twenty minutes, you've glared at me, been rude, and practically held me hostage," You snap at him, irritated by the lack of common human decency he seemed to display. "And what do you mean nauseating song? If anything, you're the one giving me headaches with that god-awful noise you call music that you play daily!"

You finish your mini rant, having reached the end of your already thinning patience with the boy in front of you. You pant slightly, trying your best to reign in your temper. 

"Noise? Noise?? I could say the same for you! You're disturbing my sleep at night with those ear-splitting synths and breathy singing that sounds like they're on the verge of hyperventilation!" Cole retorts with thinly veiled disgust, taking a step back, dusting off his hands, and wiping them on his pants. 

You eye the action, feeling insulted. Both of you stand in the alleyway, silently glaring at each other. Cole breaks the stare first, scanning the area behind him once he realizes the fangirls are gone. You grin, elated at the quiet victory. 

"You really gotta get more variety." Your smile drops as soon as the words leave Cole's lips, and yours press into a thin line. 

"Speak for yourself." You can barely hold back another biting remark. If anyone were to see you now, they'd definitely mistake you as enemies rather than the soulmates that you actually are.

He groans, rolling his eyes. You're tempted to ask what he does for a living but choose to stay silent. You shake your head, still in disbelief that you've found your soulmate. "How on earth are we even going to get along…." You mutter to yourself.

Cole looks up, seemingly having heard your quiet mumbles. "I could say the same thing. I can't be with someone who can't tell the difference between good music and bad!"

How insufferable.

But you can't help ogling his arms when he props his hands on his hips, the muscle ready to tear through the thin material. You tear your gaze away, crossing your arms. Unfortunately, he catches your eyes wandering, a cocky smirk tugging the corner of his lips up. 

Your cheeks instantly warm, and you look away in embarrassment.  

"Well, whatever. Just find me when you want to learn what real music sounds like!" 

"Fine!"

"Fine then!"

With that, the conversation ends, and you both turn to face opposite ends of the alleyway, walking away from each other with flushed faces and burning cheeks.

'Wait, I didn't give him my number.' 

You realize, turning around.

"I'll find you!" Almost as if he senses your hesitation, he answers your unasked question.

You turn with a huff, “Didn’t ask!" You yell back. 

To drive home your point, you place your earbuds back into your ears and hit play on your playlist.

Immediately, Cole's songs start playing in the back of your mind, much louder than before. You let out an irritated sigh, but surprisingly enough, the tune didn't sound as vexing as before. 

It might even be a little bit endearing.

[penelopepine]

May I have this dance?

John Price x FemReader

Content: Dance Instructor Reader, Fluff

John stepped into the dance studio already annoyed that he even needed to be there in the first place. The military ball was a couple of months away, and had been told that he would be the one to perform the first dance of the night. He had done just about everything to get out of that, but after the tenth time Laswell had put her foot down. 

Not only did he need to know how to dance, but he also had to find a date to this thing. John was avoiding the ladder as much as he could so learning to dance was what he was focusing on. Which led him to the nearest dance studio he could find. 

The building was small but looked very well maintained. Checking the time once more making sure that he was right on time for his private lesson before entering.

He didn't see anyone upon stepping inside, but he could hear the faint sound of music coming from behind the door right next to the reception desk. 

Following the music he came to stand in front of the door window; looking in he saw a woman spinning and dancing to the music. John feels as if he is hypnotized watching you. Silently he opens the door and steps inside. 

Your eyes are closed as you elegantly move around the room like a ballerina. John couldn't help but admire you as you confidently and freely take your steps. You clearly seem to be in your element right now. 

It wasn't until you gave your final pose and he saw your eyes widen upon finally seeing him did John think that not giving a hint that he was here was a bad idea. “Sorry about that dove; didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“No no I'm sorry I should have been paying attention!" You tell him your name along with a handshake, "Do you have an appointment?"

"Yeah 3 o'clock for John Price." 

"Looks like you're right on time then John. I'm ready to get started when you are!"  You give John a grin and turn towards the music player. "How much experience would you say you have with dancing by the way?"

He looks sheepish for a second, thinking about how you're going to think of him at the end of the appointment after he stepped on your feet a hundred times. “I can’t remember the last time I had to dance, not sure if I ever have honestly.” 

You laugh and it’s like music to his ears. He feels his heart start to beat faster and faster as he listens to you.

"I'm going to put on music for a quick waltz; I want to see where you are exactly. Strengths and weaknesses and all that. Who knows you may have some natural talent!" 

The song that plays is a soft and gentle tune. You step in front of him and place one of your hands on his shoulder and the other grabs his hand. John places the other on your waist; taking the chance to step even closer to you. 

“I'm very skilled in many things, but dancing isn’t one of them.” John whispers in your ear. He delights when he sees that your checks turn flush. 

With your checks still red you meet his eyes, “Do you want me to lead then; show you how it’s supposed to be done.” 

“I’ve been told I’m good at following orders.” 

“Let’s see if that’s true then.” 

It genuinely catches John off guard when you then yank the two of you into a spin. It leaves John stumbling to keep up with your sudden movements. 

You only give him a moment to readjust himself before you start moving again in a much slower way. “Alright, when leading you need to always know your next move, and guide your partner in that direction.” 

The two of you start small with a simple box step routine. 

Step forward, step to the side, step back, and step to the side; repeat. 

John had looked more at his feet the first few walk throughs. It wasn’t until you removed your hand from his shoulder, and guided his face to look up at your face did he start to feel more comfortable with the movements. He was surprised that he had only managed to step on your feet twice as well. 

“Think you’re ready to take control?” 

“As ready as I’ll ever be I suppose.” 

You give him a reassuring smile, “It’s all about confidence! You don’t need to be perfect as long as you look like you know what you’re doing. No one will question you if you do!” 

“I’ll take your word for it doll.” John squeezes your waist and pulls you closer to him. His leading is a bit slow in the beginning, but it wasn’t long before the two of you were dancing all around the room together. 

You had told him to act confident, and John was going to take full advantage of that. Pressing you against his chest, pulling you along with him, and even dipping you. That had caused a loud laugh from you. John hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. He didn’t think he was even capable of it. 

You brought a feeling out of him that he hadn’t experienced with anyone else in just a short amount of time of knowing each other. John wasn’t sure if he could let you go after this.

By the end of his appointment John feels like he actually has a grip on how to dance. He’s not sure if that’s because he’s dancing with you or if you’re just that good at teaching that even a guy like him can learn.

“You keep this up John and you’ll have no problem properly waltzing the night away. I’m almost jealous of everyone who you’re going to be dancing with.” 

"Love…I actually need a date for this dance. Would you want to accompany me? I promise you’ll be the only one I dance with." John has always considered himself a man of action, and he wasn't about to leave here without at least asking you to join him. You’re the only one that he wants on his arm for the night.

“I’d…I’d love to; I need to make sure my student remembers what I taught him after all.” That smile you flash at him is all a man like him needs. 

He’ll have to remember to send a gift basket to Laswell for forcing him to do this. He can’t wait for the military ball now, he’d do anything to spend more time with you. Even going to that damn dance. 

Notes:

I loved writing this! I had a lot of fun writing Price, and googling dance things lol.

Masterlist

[roycevelvet]

Dance with somebody

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x reader Warnings: none Notes: short fluff moment, nothing too spectacular

As the band played their hearts out, you found yourself swept up in the energy of the moment, surrounded by unfamiliar faces. It was then that you first laid eyes on Noah, ofcourse you had already hurt of him from your best friend. You knew who he was, you knew how he looked like, but seeing the real deal was just something else. He effortlessly commanded the stage with solely his presence, you couldn't help but feel drawn to him in a way you couldn't quite put your finger on.

After the show, Nick finally had the chance to introduced you to Noah and the other guys. Nick and you were childhood friends, but you never got to meet the guys because life just happened and you had moved away for a while. Only to come crawling back to the place you call home. It didn’t take long for you to find yourself drawn into conversation with Noah, the words flowing effortlessly between you as you discussed every detail of your life, as you were old friends catching up. The crowd began to thin, you and Noah found yourselves lingering by the bar, still lost in conversation, oblivious to the world around you. You laughed at his jokes, marveled at his passion for music, and enjoyed the warmth of his company. And as the night drew to a close and you bid farewell to Noah, not before exchanging numbers, a sense of excitement stirred within you, a feeling that this was only the beginning of a beautiful friendship. — In the weeks that followed, you and Noah found yourselves gravitating towards each other more and more. You were genuinely appreciating each other's company, whether it was grabbing coffee or just spending lazy afternoon together. And as your friendship grew stronger, you suddenly found yourself thinking about Noah more and more, his name lingering in your thoughts longer as you’d like to admit.  It was on a cold winter evening, with the sound of the bustling city harmonizing with the gentle hum of falling snow, that Nick had invited you to join him and the rest of your friends for a night of fun, and of course you immediately  accepted the invitation. Any chance to spend more with Noah, you’d gladly take. The hours passed in a blur of music, fun and laughter, with each song bringing you and Noah closer together. Stolen glances and soft touches. As the evening came to an end, everyone started to say goodbye until it was just the two of you left in the karaoke box. Neither of you wanting the night to end, so you just kept singing and dancing. And with each passing song, the tension between you grew, threatening to consume you both. And then, as the opening tune of "Dance With Somebody" filled the air, a hush fell over the room, the weight of the moment hanging heavy in the air. You found yourself into Noah's arms, your bodies moving in perfect synchrony as you danced together to the groovy rhythm of the song. The both of you completely forgetting about the world around you as you only had eyes for each other. As the world fell away around you and the music filled the air, Noah pulled you closer in his arms and his lips softly touched yours. It was a crash of emotions that left you breathless and wanting more. The song came to an end and you found yourselves standing in the aftermath of the moment. Both your hearts pounding in your chests as you searched each other's eyes for any sign of hesitation. And then, without a word, Noah reached out and pulled you into his arms again, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss. It was a kiss filled with pent-up emotions, after all those months of just being "friends". You melted into his embrace, lost in the heat of the moment.

[nnnyxie]

More Fan!Izuku because it’s sO good-

Imagine Fan!izu x Streamer!Reader..basing this off of myself shamelessly🤭 basically reader is like a singer or something…like does choir(me🤭)and sings in bands(also me🤞) and musical theater(surprise, me‼️)..also plays an instrument…but something fancy like harp yk?(I Play the harp💅) And they do like cosy lil streams of just singing and playing their instrument and Izu as the busy lil hero he is just likes their voice it somehow enchants him??? Helps him relax and calm down and he just loves hearing it and rewinding to it after a long day and reader ofcourse a loyal Deku fan but because reader is ✨shy✨ they don’t show their face while streaming (I just love any kind of reveals of identity idk) and they also keep their background minimal to not give away anything about them but one das they just have a little fangirling moment showing off their new favorite Deku Figurine and hearing praise from them drives Izu insane(in a good way) and yeah idk hope that gives you a good baseeee

#𖢥 izuku anon

omg choir twinsies !!

(also i love the harp??? i have NO CLUE how to play but it’s just so!!!! ahhh!!!! it’s so pretty look and sound wise)

so yk that one artist that does the omnichord songs?? so like— that’s what you do EXCEPT!!

it’s not the omnichord!! it’s the harp!!!

rn i’m a teensy bit obsessed with lana del ray and mitski so!!! you mainly perform their songs <3

i wholeheartedly believe izuku is ‘i bet on losing dogs’ by mitski and ‘dark paradise’ by lana del ray personified!!! (lowkey projecting?)

our dear boy loves when you perform their songs. he’s tried listening to the original artists but— your covers just hit different yk?? your covers are just so pretty!!

he found you thanks to ochako and mina!! one day they were talking about streamers and youtubers they watch (because mina games obvi) and ochako talked about your streams and your channel!! she talked about how your musical talent was amazing and how soft your voice was!! izuku loves trying out things his friends like so he decided to give you a shot!!!

and he just fell in love— the moment you said ‘hi’, he felt like fainting.

from then on, he started falling asleep to your videos, and tuning into your streams when he had the free time.

from time to time you’ll do asmr streams. like whispering and talking about your day!! talking about some of the new things you’ve gotten or some of your favorite heroes!!

when you do these asmr streams they always somehow lead to you ranting about pro hero deku!!

izuku usually isn’t around when you do these asmr streams but today??? this night??? right now??? he can!! and he most definitely will!! he was lucky enough to have today off and spent the majority of the day binging your videos while catching up on sleep.

anyways

he was cooking dinner (i like to think that he cooks dinner for his mom when he visits) when he heard a ‘ting’ (he keeps his sound notifs on for work!!)

he went to check it andddd it was a twitch notif from your channel!! the title being:

asmr chat pt.15 ; p.o. box

he’s quick to open the app, immediately pressing on your streaming clip.

“hello everyone!” you whispered. only your desk showed. it had various bags and wrapped boxes on top. “i was sent gifts through my p.o. box and i’ve decided to open them on stream.” you ran your hands over a box. “we’ll open this one first!”

as you sifted through each gift, you grew increasingly excited. your fans knew you well— as they all had gotten you some form of pro hero deku merch!!

when it came to your last box, it was a sweatshirt. the fabric was soft and the perfect texture. the design— the design was your favorite. it was black with small, thin green writing of his hero name on the forearms. the upper left front of the jacket had a green outline of his hero helmet. the sweatshirt also had green accents— his signature green on all of this, of course.

“i really appreciate all of these! you all know me so well! ah! i’m seriously in awe of all of these!!” you smiled behind the camera. “i love deku, he’s my favorite hero. ever since he started out, i knew he’d be the best. he’s always saving everyone with a smile, and god— it’s amazing! he’s amazing! i don’t know him personally but i’m sure that he’s just as kind on tv as he is in real life.” you ran your hand over the outline on the sweatshirt. “i bet he’s just as cute too,” you laughed along with the chat. they knew about your big crush on the pro hero and would tease you about it during small talks like this. izuku’s face flushed and it grew hotter as he read through the comments.

oilspill.in.a.cup : manifesting the love of ur life for you bae!!!

veianna.sausagezzz : ur in love w/ him atp just find him nd kiss him

nylie.kei : VEIANNA THATS ASSAULT??

pinky✔︎ : wiggles eyebrows

you laughed as you read through these. “i’ll have to agree with nylie, here. no matter how pretty his lips are, i wouldn’t do that.”

izuku typed out a comment— not sure whether to send it or not. you two have developed a sort of parasocial relationship with one another, a one-sided admiration. though, now it isn’t exactly one-sided.

he decides to send it though. ignoring the absolute anxiety he’s feeling as he waits for your reaction.

midoriya.izuku✔︎ : i dunno, i wouldn’t mind one!

carpool.toenail : AYO!?

vieanna.sausagezzz : SEEEEEEE SEEEEE @/nylie.kei

oilspill.in.a.cup : MANIFESTED 😩🤌

nylie.kei : OHMYGODBSLEVSLDB

pinky✔︎ : IZUKU??????

“oh— uhm. oh.” you were flustered. honestly, you couldn’t speak. you were both extremely embarrassed and very flattered. and very happy that he watches your streams. “uhm i gotta go clean up— see you all later!”

edit;

omg i forgot to add an end note????

ANYWAYS!! had fun writing this heheheh

[adore-laur]

GOLD RUSH: EPILOGUE

— part one | part two | part three

——

Four Months Later

Spectral shadows now haunt the vacant house in Tennessee. They are ones of yourself and Harry appearing as nebulous figures wistfully retracing the steps of every memory played out in each room. 

Every wall you were sensually backed into. 

Every floor you collapsed onto with heartache. 

Every dark corner that sheltered your fears. 

The wilted vines of romance that grew under the carpet and ascended toward the roof are surely felt by whoever exists there now, trapping their feet and trying to pull them down into their depths of despair. Their once vibrant color pales from perennial neglect, and they yearn for a single drop of love. 

The two lovers are no longer the providers of such an arduous task. 

You have broken free from the poison ivy and moved to untethered fields. The deadly nightshade that crawled over your body is no longer lethal, and your stitched heart is now thriving with unburdened lungs. Harry willingly took the needle and delicately sewed each open wound with threads of honeysuckle and lavender, patiently waiting for the crevices to bond back together until they blossomed into feelings of certainty and candor. He never pushed the process, always letting you grow at your own pace and sharing his sunlight when you needed it most. 

You adapted nicely to the new soil. You left your dirt behind and pulled up your roots to bury them elsewhere. Somewhere more nurtured with eternal blue skies. 

Harry's roots have always been grounded, so the day he left his home pierced thorns in all he's ever known and left him bleeding until you tore off your petals of armor to seal the gash. The cure was in you all along.

You wonder where he is now. 

As you sit alone on the late January grass, no snowfall settling across the blades in rural South Carolina this time of year, you miss his warm presence beside you. The knitted cardigan you wear replaces his skin; the breeze finds secret passageways through every petite hole in the fabric. Your arms, terribly sore from moving boxes all day, could use his own wrapped around them. 

The lake past the lush, rolling hills is gray from the reflection of the clouds above, and the water looks inviting. No other house can be seen for miles. It's what you've dreamed of—a perfect place to start afresh and continue raising your family away from camera flashes and prying questions. You have privacy at last. 

A sudden, soft plucking of guitar strings draws you from your thoughts. The acoustic melody plants seeds in your bones, coursing through the marrow until they lovingly consume your soul.

There he is. 

Music follows him wherever he goes. Even when an instrument is absent from his versed hands, he still carries a symphony with his words. Either sung or spoken, they slip off his tongue with entrancing ease. 

"Look what I found," Harry says in a way that exudes childlike wonder. 

You smile and turn your head, finding him treading toward you while wearing your cardigan and holding a green resonator guitar by its neck. The heavy black case is in his other hand. 

"What box was that in?" you ask, admiring how his hair blows in the wind. It falls into place perfectly. 

"The huge one that I totally didn't have trouble carrying." He smirks at you, narrowing his beautiful green eyes. The light in them is finally back.

Laughing, you watch him set the case down next to you before sitting on it. He then places the guitar on his lap, its curve naturally fitting along his thigh. "Wonder if it's still in tune," he murmurs, twisting the tuning pegs and strumming random chords with his jeweled fingers. 

You're waiting for him to mention how you kept it even through the divorce, but it never comes. You should have a little faith in him for not bringing up that withered phase of life, but it was so miserably monumental that it permeates your mind anyway. 

"Hi," Harry whispers with a hint of shyness, as if he's acknowledging you for the first time. You bask in his natural incandescence. 

"Hi. I wanted to talk to you about something." 

He inhales and nods, absentmindedly playing a few dissonant chords. "Okay." 

"I know this move has been hard on you," you say while looking into his eyes, "and I just want to know how you're feeling." 

The fatal flaw in your relationship's early stages was a lack of communication. It was a bit ironic, considering marriage is built on the mere foundation of it. Perhaps that's why it didn't work out the first time. 

"I feel good." He lightly slaps his hand on the guitar to stop the strings from vibrating. "Really good, actually." 

You could cry with relief. "Yeah?" 

His lips quirk up. "Yeah. I obviously miss Nashville, but I'm starting to love it here." 

You nod understandingly. "It's quiet, you know? So different from the city." 

"I think this move is exactly what we needed. To leave all those bad memories behind." 

Leave your dirt behind. Bloom somewhere new. 

"Can I say something I don't tell you enough?" you ask, tucking strands of windswept hair behind your ears. 

Harry lays the guitar down and begins picking at the dead grass by his feet. "Will it make me cry?" 

"It'll probably make me cry." 

He looks at you for a moment before patting his lap twice. "C'mere. I don't like it when you're far away." 

You stand and then settle sideways on his thighs, his arms instantly circling around your waist. His touch was something that took you a while to allow yourself to accept. It started with longer hugs and holding hands, then soft and lingering kisses on the cheek. They all led to bigger things, like kissing his heart-shaped lips and letting his hands rest on your hips or neck. Making out like teenagers on the couch to make up for lost time felt more purposeful than ever. It felt different this time around, more significant. His touch was a telltale sign that the petals could still be saved from wilting and falling to the frozen ground. 

It was a slow blossoming of sprouts, but he was understanding. That's all you could've asked for. 

"What's on your mind, baby?" Harry quietly asks. 

Unwarranted tears form in your eyes as you look at the man you almost entirely let go of. When your gaze traces the features of his face, you wonder how you would have lived without him. How does someone possibly keep from loving him? You're glad you didn't fall victim to that. 

"I just... I'm so proud of you," you shakily whisper, a teardrop sliding down your cheek. 

Harry's chest deflates. He breaks eye contact, visibly swallowing and rolling his lips in before responding, "I know you are. You've never made me doubt it." 

"But it's not just with your job. Even when we weren't together, I was proud of who you were." 

"You shouldn't have been. I was a mess." 

You shake your head. "The way you still tried to mend things while grieving is something to be proud of, Harry. You should be proud of yourself." 

"I did it because I love you," he says with shimmering eyes. "I did it for her." 

Her, meaning your daughter. She's away with your grandparents for the day while you and Harry unpack and set up the necessary furniture. He does everything for her, and you firmly believe she was the single ray of light in his phases of deep depression. 

"I know, but I was worried about you. No matter how angry I tried to be, I still cared about you so much." You take a deep breath before continuing, "When you came over during the first few months..." You pause and let out a weak sob. "You scared me. You didn't look like yourself, and it fucking terrified me. I remember your cheeks were so... so hollowed." 

Harry looks out at the lake, almost ashamed. His thumbs rub soothing circles on your hips, and you've never been more grateful to see the supple skin on his cheeks today. 

"We never really know grief until it happens to us," he says, laying his head on your shoulder. "I didn't eat for days. Didn't shower. Barely left my bed. I lost myself completely." 

You know you shouldn't apologize, but you do anyway. "I'm sor—"

"Don't," he interrupts. "Please don't." 

"It killed me. I had never seen you so sick." 

"But it led me back to you, didn't it?" He softly kisses your arm and smiles against it. "All that pain led me to this moment, love." 

You rest your hand on his stomach. "That's not the point, though." 

"I think it is," he remarks. "Everyone goes through shit, and everyone learns something from it." 

You sniffle as Harry takes one of your hands and blows warm air onto it. "What did you learn?" 

He stares at you while kissing your wrist. "That your love was worth the fight. And I don't regret fighting my goddamn life for it." 

His love-laced words rush through you like liquid gold and heal every stitch on your heart, leaving only scars behind.

You don't regret diving into his waters anymore. 

——

[devils-dares]

Sunday Morning

summary: a soft, sweet sunday morning!

pairing: matt murdock x gn!reader

warnings: fluff, dancing, copious amounts of physical affection and kisses, one allusion to smut

wordcount: 643

a/n: fair warning, i wrote this in like twenty-ish minutes total so it's probably not the best HOWEVER i love it.

-----

The smell of waffles flooded your nose as you stepped out of the bedroom in nothing but Matt’s t-shirt, which goes down to your mid-thighs, and some underwear. He’s humming some tune in the kitchen, gray sweats slung low on his hips as he whisks the batter.

“Good morning.” You say, and are met with a bright smile.

“G’morning, I’m making breakfast.”

“Yeah I can smell it.” He laughs and you smile. Walking over to him, you rest your head on his bare chest, one of his hands resting on your lower back as the other pours the batter into the waffle maker with incredible control.

He puts the empty batter bowl down, focusing all his attention on you now. His hands move up and down your back after creeping underneath the shirt. The calloused skin warms your back, thumbs gently digging into any tight spots.

“Always so soft.” He hums, chin dipping down so his lips can kiss your neck. His hands move to your hips, attempting to hold you tight to lift you onto the counter, but your hisses stop him.

“What is it?” He asks, genuine concern written across his face.

“You weren’t exactly gentle when you came home last night, Matty.” You giggle, face turning red from remembering how he came home, shedding his suit down the stairs as he practically growled out your name.

Your hand reached up to the crook of your neck, skin slightly raw from where his stubble dragged across it last night. He feels where your hand is and kisses you softly there.

“I was a bit rough, hm?” You laugh as his fingers tickle your sides, and his lips curl up into a grin against your skin. He presses up against you, the two of you impossibly close with his hands wound around your back.

“Hi.” You say, hands running through Matt’s hair which makes him yawn.

“Hi.” He says, pulling back to smile at you before peppering kisses all over your face. You laugh and he laughs with you, finally kissing your smiling lips. A ding separates the two of you, signaling the waffles were finished.

“Waffle time.” You say longingly. He shakes his head at you, getting the butter and syrup.

-----

After breakfast, the two of you are standing in the kitchen, telling jokes and giggling like children.

“I,” he starts mischievously, “have an idea.” He walks over to the box sitting on the side table near the window, pulling out a record.

“What are you doing?” You ask, laughing as he places the vinyl on the record player with a flourish.

“I’m asking you,” Valerie by Amy Winehouse starts playing, “to dance with me.”

“You cannot be serious right now.”

“Deadly.” He takes your hand and pulls you into the open space in front of the bedroom door. With one hand holding your own and a hand on your waist, he spins you around, swaying with the upbeat music. The sound of your laughs ring out over the music as he swings you around, planting a kiss on you when he brings you up from what you imagined looked like an overly-dramatic dip.

The two of you start singing along, out of breath voices trying their damndest to keep up with the song. By the time it ends, you two are gasping for air.

“That was amazing.” You say.

“Anything for you. I love hearing you laugh.” He says, wiping away a thin layer of sweat from his forehead and then brushing your hair out of your face.

“I love you.” You say, squealing in surprise when he picks you up by the waist and spins you once more.

“And I love you so much.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you to infinity.”

“That’s a cheap copout.” He shrugs.

“It works.” You smile, kissing him again.

“That it does.”

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Actually, imagine Ajax and Legacy are like, mildly upset because something happened and they were a little annoyed at us.

So,

OBVIOUSLY

We show up with a boom box and serenade them back into being ok with us. Hopefully, we amuse them enough for them to forget why they were upset in the first place.

(Also, get them flowers to add to the bit.)

they're actually quite quick to forgive you, but they do so enjoy pouting from time to time hehe

Foul Legacy perks up the instant he hears the music, something soft and delicate, just the way he likes it. Ajax is the one trying to sulk, tugging at the corners of his mind in protest and attempting to get Legacy to stay in his blanket nest. he hesitates for a few moments more- just long enough for you to slip into the room with the gramophone from downstairs and a few flowers in your hands, lovely and blue and in full bloom. the gramophone plays gentle music as you hum along, even occasionally adding words into the melody, sitting tentatively beside him and holding out the flowers. a sincere apology falls from your lips, a hopeful but reserved smile on your face. there are no tears, no pleading- just the music, flowers, and your honest words

Legacy tilts his head very slowly, as if he's contemplating you, but the fur around his shoulders ruffles and fluffs up and it's clear that he's holding back a happy trill

your smile turns slightly relieved as you scoot closer, starting to weave the flowers into his fluff and hair. Legacy trembles for a few minutes until he can't contain himself, chirping and firmly bumping his head against your chest and under your hands, urging you to scratch behind his horns. you laugh, setting the flowers aside and ruffling his hair, his purrs matching the tune from the gramophone. Ajax sighs within his head, but he can't help but smile, too. he knows you'll keep some flowers to weave in his hair and preserve later, the thought alone making his heart warm. for now he just watches you and Legacy fondly, the Abyssal monster's copper hair slowly becoming dotted with little bunches of soft blue and green

it's like the field you like to watch sunsets in, trailing into twilight and leaning against Ajax or Foul Legacy with that lovely little smile on your face

[hoziersmicrophone]

“it will come back” - ross macdonald

warnings: mentions of smut

a/n: literally just writing this for myself and only for myself but happy to provide more rosstent for y’all :)

you were currently having one of the best experiences of your life. you were sitting in a VIP box with your boyfriend, ross macdonald and the rest of the 1975 watching a concert.

except it wasn’t just any concert, it was fucking hozier.

ross had surprised you with a last minute invite. he wasn’t originally planning on going but after george talked him into it, he knew he had to bring you.

he knew how much you loved hozier, and his music. he often made fun of you for having such a distinct taste in men- tall, long hair, beard. and while he wasn’t wrong, you weren’t going to necessarily admit it.

he spent the majority of the concert watching you, as you watched the irish man, completely mesmerized as you sang along to every word of the songs he played.

hozier had just finished playing francesca, and was in the middle of swapping out guitars. he reached for the microphone and murmured words of thanks to the cheering crowd.

“thank you, thank you. this next one i haven’t played in a while, but i think you’ll enjoy it,”

you grabbed onto the box’s barricade bar in anticipation. your fingers turning white as the band tuned up to play whatever song was going to be next.

the second he started playing the opening riff, you whipped your head around to ross to see that his eyes had gone wide and he looked at you, immediately trying to stifle laughter.

as hozier continued the opening riff to “it will come back” you saw ross smirk down at you.

no one else in the box knew why the both of you were reacting the way that you were, but this song was at the very top of the playlist that you told your Alexa to play when you were about to have sex.

you gave him a look that basically said “don’t you dare fucking say anything,” and he laughed as adam just stared at the two of you, perplexed.

you turned back around as hozier continued to sing and tried really hard to focus on the music. it was proving to be difficult though with the flashbacks and images that were popping into your head.

“don’t let it in with no intention to keep it- Jesus Christ, don’t be kind to it,”

“honey don’t feed it, it will come back.”

you felt ross behind you as he wrapped his arms around your torso and sang the end of the verse in your ear, his lips barely grazing the outer shell.

you leaned back against him and smiled as he squeezed your whole body gently.

“this is like your biggest fantasy come true, eh?” he whispered in your ear, chuckling.

you rolled your eyes, “shut up macdonald.”

the bass of the song picked up as the bridge started and Hozier repeatedly sang the phrase “don’t you hear me howling babe?”

at this point, you were clutching ross’s bicep that was wrapped around you with such ferocity he thought you would implode.

he chuckled as he released you from his grasp as the song came to an end.

“i love you,” he muttered as he kissed the top of your head.

you grinned up at him, “i love you too, but in this moment, i may love hozier more.”

your grin turned into a smirk with a mischievous twinkle in your eye.

ross raised an eyebrow as he leaned down to your eye level and brushed your hair out of your face, “yeah we’ll see about that when we get home, won’t we?” before placing a soft kiss on your lips.

you smiled against him, jumping immediately back into your position forward facing as the irishman took to the stage oncemore.

—————————————————————————

A/N: honestly, this was just for me LOL cause inspiration strUck, but if you do read it, I hope you enjoy <3 also did not proofread at all :)