#( i'm still suffering this cold but it's miles better than it was a few days ago so hopefully it's on the way out )

[daybreakrising]

crawls in here

back from my brief dogsitting responsibility, gonna lurk on the dash while i attempt to do some drafts or inbox things - probably inbox, since the number in there is double the number of my drafts, and i kinda... i kinda need to control it a little........

[junedenim]

2012

beneath the boardwalk, part 10 (series masterlist)

why'd you only call me when you're high?

warnings: a whole lot of angst, temptation, nostalgia, and nothing

word count: 10.4k

Squished between two couch cushions watching Real Housewives, I got a call from Alex. "Did I wake you?" He questioned. It was late or early depending on who you asked. I had been woken up from a cold I was suffering from. He had never gone to bed.

"No, no, I'm just sitting around, suffocating," I complained. His voice was rough, but not thick with phlegm like mine. He chuckled in a rhythmic format, beat after beat. He sounded like he was sinking into himself, his flesh turning to goo. I heard his lips smack together as if he was chewing on a piece of hay. I coughed, the harshness reaching him miles and miles away. "You alright?"

"Yeah." I think he was chewing gum. "Just got home."

I hummed with understanding. "Did you have a nice night?"

He made a noise of indifference. "How long you been sick?"

"Two days now and it's not getting any better." I sniffled and stuffed a tissue up my nostril, thankful that I lived alone. "Think I caught it at a New Year's Party. I'm worried I have mono."

"Why? You've been kissing a bunch of people?" His words hung in the middle of us. Both of us moving on from one another had been unspoken. We were still on a break for all intents and purposes, even if he was with Arielle. Another thing we never talked about. 

I gave the best laugh I could do without coughing. "It's supposed to be good luck. I also ate 12 grapes and banged bread against the wall."

"Did you really?" He amusingly asked.

"No, well, not the bread part." I sighed. "Now, I'm just sitting on the couch watching shitty reruns. I can't fall back asleep."

"Neither can I," he said.

I hesitated and curled up under my blanket. "Is that why you called me at 4 in the morning?" I said it with a laugh to ease any tensions that may arise.

"It's only 1 here."

"Right. I forgot about the time difference." It didn't seem right for him to be so far away permanently. None of this seemed like the correct order of things. It was a misalignment but there could be no corrective measure.

"Yeah, I kind of did too." There was a pause like he was thinking things over. Like he might have had something to say but now he couldn't find it. "I'll let you go then." In more ways than one.

*

Alex was a cloud. He was away on tour, far away and out of reach. We talked less but not intentionally. We both just got really busy and we didn't need each other for that constant contact anymore. I was plummeting toward the wildest time of my life and he was up to his usual unable-to-contact schedule. Somewhere in Australia first then opening for The Black Keys. Plus, he had Arielle.

The new girlfriend thing didn't bug me much, at least, not in the form of jealousy. It was a strange thing. I hadn't fully adjusted to the idea but it was much easier when he was nowhere near my life. If it had happened when we were younger, I think I would've punished myself for it, but I had grown into a far lighter figure who understood not everyone was trying to make a mark against me. Alex was living his own life, which for the past few years had been dedicated to one person. It was "seeing what else was out there."

I was alone for the most part. I saw Jackson nearly every day, whether for work or leisure, but I was getting used to being alone for long grasps of time. I spent time writing in my notebook like the old days. A therapy session that I locked away in a drawer. I rotted in my room for days. I watched all of The Sopranos, practiced the splits, and thought about getting a cat. It was winter and a very boring time.

But around the end of January, I did my first interview. It was small and nothing huge, but it was talking about my work in-depth for the first time with a stranger. I pretended I was talking to Alex.

Alex and I didn't stop talking completely. I called him on his birthday, briefly, and we had a long chat toward the end of January where we caught up with one another. Neither of us had much to tell. He had been touring. I had been crawling around New York doing next to nothing, besides book matters and talking about my "marketability."

Alex laughed at this. "Yeah, they tend to do that. Try to whittle you down to one trait."

"It's making me feel insecure." I laughed at it but it felt small inside me, burning its way out.

Alex hummed in agreement. "Well, at least you're not a pimple-ridden kid doing it."

It wasn't something he talked about much. He hated people giving him attention, yet he was in a career that commanded eyes to be focused on him. It was one of our many skimmed-over conversations. In some ways, it made me feel like I didn't know Alex. We both hid parts of ourselves from one another and knew that the other did this. That burning curiosity we used to have probably went out once we started to live with one another. You know someone for long enough that it begins to feel like you know every inch of them. I slept with him night after night but I wondered if I ever knew what was ticking on in his head before he fell asleep. What was he thinking when he sat outside with a closed notebook? Why did he turn away?

I didn't even know why I turned away. I wrote repeatedly in my notebook, questioning why I couldn't make it work with Alex. I resisted jumping into a relationship because of that. If I couldn't make it work with Alex then it probably wouldn't work with anyone, especially during that portion of my life. I didn't know what it meant to be alone, like really alone.

I deflected a lot. I even deflected earlier in this book. I was devastated by the loss of Alex and I don't think it hit me until much later because I always had an anvil weighing on the back of my head telling me it wasn't over. Arielle complicated those ideals and I think for a while I was on my back unable to regain upright status. I was flailing.

That's why I paused. When 2012 hit, I was forced into a corner. I felt distant from who I was but still so far away from who I was becoming. I felt like I was the roots of the tree that had been cut down. I was left to be a stump.

One night, over a joint, I told Jackson I didn't feel British. Jackson, a Californian boy through and through, did not understand this. He laughed from the high while the smoke just made me more disoriented. He told me that I was "perfectly British." To me, that sounded like some marketing strategy. That's what the book would be marketed as—a British girl coming to America; her cold skin meeting the California sun. It made me hate the book. Or I hated myself, the lines were blurring.

I thought I had grown away from forms of jealousy. I have just previously insisted to you that I experienced no feelings of envy toward Arielle...but I did. It was ignored and then it couldn't be. The "R U Mine?" music video featured Arielle and a "new" Alex. I'm not a fan of the insinuation Alex suddenly changed after we broke up, besides his hair and fresh Sheffield tattoo, I would come to know Alex was exactly the same. Alex never quite changes. He's always been suave. It's hard to take a 20-year-old as seriously as a 25-year-old, especially when he is still pimple-ridden.

I found my jealousy toward Arielle in regard to "R U Mine?" was the same as when Alex showed me "Bigger Boys and Stolen Sweethearts" because, honestly, since then Alex's only explicit romantic muse (the word makes me want to barf, but that's what I was) was me. It's the weird thing of being with a writer, especially with personal subjects. It's beautiful when it's for you but then you realize that it was never really for you. It was about you. Alex didn't write a song to make me feel loved. He wrote a song because he liked writing songs.

Unknowingly, I always felt that. It's why I didn't swoon every time I heard "Mardy Bum." I loved it as a song but it didn't feel like a love letter. I felt Alex's love in far different ways. As the years went on, I would find love letters in songs, but at the center, I found his love in crevices: a note from college, a smoke outside a pub, a cooked meal, folded laundry—god, I sound old.

But his love wasn't restricted to those songs. Just as my love isn't restricted to this tome. This is a love letter in pieces for Alex but it's also for my youth. I found around this time, I began to reflect on those early years. Nearly 10 years out from 2003, I became a preservationist. I jotted down my memory of my first conversation with Alex. I tucked it away in my drawer, no use for it yet.

*

Alex called me on my birthday. He wasn't too far away, somewhere between Portland and Boston on a bus. It was late with only an hour left to my birthday, which I had spent drinking with friends. It was a rather simple birthday. It could've been just another night, minus the cake (red velvet with frosted flowers on top of it) that Fennel and Kaka purchased for me.

Alex texted me in the morning. Something akin to Hey. Happy birthday. Al.

It was formal and if it didn't make me laugh so much I think I'd be hurt by it. But Alex always texted like that as if he was penning a letter. The letter was awfully short but it was sent at 4 AM, which made me believe he either had no sleep or had just woken up.

I was expecting more and I got more. When I was drunk.

"Hi," I said, shoving the phone to my ear as a subway train came roaring by.

He chuckled, hearing the noise. "Hi." He waited for it to pass fully before continuing, "Happy birthday."

"Thank you."

"Did you spend it good?"

"Yeah. I'm pretty drunk."

"Alright, then, I won't keep you long."

"No," I insisted. "Stay on the phone with me." I was pleading. I didn't want to let go of him. "At least, until I'm home." I wasn't far away but I lied and acted like I was further away, keeping him on the line with me, even as we lost connection at various times.

"Sorry I didn't get you anything," he said halfway through the subway ride.

"I didn't get you anything,” I reminded him.

"Yeah. Feels weird."

We hummed in silence because we both knew how abnormal this was. We weren't friends. Alex and I were never friends. Nothing ever went away or could ever go away. We were struggling to redefine what we were. We could never disentangle from one another. It pulled us back toward one another, even when we shouldn't have.

"I was going to get you that, uh, milkshake maker so you wouldn't have to pay extra at Morgenstern's for one." I didn't know a person could get so emotional over a milkshake maker that they would feel like crying on the F train. I might be the only person ever.

It was such a stupid gift. I would probably get two uses out of the machine before it broke and it wouldn't be as good as Morgenstern's makes theirs and it would go to waste. Still, I can imagine if he did get it for me. How after I unwrapped it we would go to Morgenstern's and get a pint of ice cream and Alex would make me a milkshake. One just for me. If I was feeling generous enough, we'd share the straw.

None of this would have happened, even if we were together. He'd still be in between Portland and Boston and I'd still be riding the F, wishing he was with me. It was comforting that maybe I had done the right thing, even if it felt so hard.

"Well, you can get it for me for Christmas."

He laughed and said, "Okay."

*

Black leather loafers with black wool flannel trousers. A white poplin shirt, two buttons loose at the top and at the bottom. I had a black corduroy jacket that Jackson held for me. I felt like I was dressing up in my mother's clothes. I was doing book press. It was an unfitting experience but I held the hardcover book in my hand. It felt unnatural but I liked my authour's photo.

By that point, I was so far removed from the contents of the book. I started to second-guess it even coming out. It felt like my diary, even if it was evasive at times and cut out the personal from that time (Alex is not mentioned once, not even as the person I moved to LA for). Still, it was exposing, but it was real now and it was sitting in my hand.

Alex came to town a week later, opening for The Black Keys. I didn't see the show—things were getting too busy by that point. I asked Alex if we could meet for a quick lunch and he accepted.

We met at Westville, a cute restaurant, but by no means romantic. I felt a need for that to be clear. I worried about Arielle worrying that I was trying to "steal" Alex or whatever that meant. I don't think she ever did. After all, she had the guy and I was resigned with no longer having the guy. It wasn't the bitch fight it has been imagined to be.

I waited for Alex outside the restaurant, smoking a cigarette to achieve my all-time high of cigarettes per day (this was not a good year for my lungs). I dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. I wanted to look cool but relaxed. I wore the previously mentioned black loafers to make it look like I didn't roll out of bed and throw some jeans on.

Alex wore the same thing: jeans, T-shirt, loafers...and a leather jacket. It was a hotter March day when spring was beginning to peek through and relieve the bitterness of winter. He was across the street stuck at a streetlight and I waved to him and he waved back. Then, we just stared at each other, waiting for the light to turn green.

He crossed, said hi, and hugged me. Every move was made with slight awkwardness. We hadn't been alone together since he moved out. "Have you been waiting long?" He asked.

I shook my head. "Got here early, just for a smoke. Do you want to go in now?"

"Yeah. Yeah." He bobbed his head.

I put my cigarette out and he followed me into the restaurant. "Your hair is back to normal." My natural brown. It was better for me to not play pretend when promoting a book about my own life.

"Yours isn't," I commented. It came off snarkier than I wanted it to.

He shrugged and smiled to ease the thick fat of awkwardness. "Yeah, well, you know." He didn't say it but this was the new normal for him, which was fine, but it was different from what I knew. When I dreamed about him or pictured him, it was still with a curling mop top or, you know, just the mop if I was dreaming of '09.

"Tattoo too," I added.

"Yeah."

"You're a changed man."

"Yeah."

Our heads ducked down and we stared at the menus in silence. It was a challenge of who would speak first—seriously speak, not those little comments over what looks good.

After we ordered, I said, "Sorry I'm not able to go tonight."

He waved me off. "You've already been to too many shows. Don't worry."

"Well, I like going. It feels weird not to go."

"Yeah." Somewhere in that word, I knew what he meant. It had been years since Alex had the ability to spot people in the crowd, but he told me once that there was a comfort in knowing I was somewhere in there, that even if he messed up, there would always be someone there at the end of it all. I wonder if he was still getting used to someone else being at the end of it all.

He sipped his water to cut off the look on his face. I decided to cut to the fat of it. "I, uh, have something to give you."

"Why do I feel like it's something bad?" He cracked a laugh, lifting the air in the room.

I picked up my bag. "I hope not."

I dug through my things slowly. It was held in my hands but I still had to catch my breath before I lifted it out. I saw a squint on his face as he tried to imagine what it was. I passed it across the table and his hands took it. That is when it all started to feel real; seeing his eyes land on it, his hands run down its spine with him smiling. "It's a first edition," I joked.

He raised an eyebrow, flipping it open. "Is it signed?" I laughed. I'm not sure what made me happier: him holding my book or joking around with him again. He opened the other end of the book. "Good author photo."

"I'm quite happy with it." Somewhere in that bittersweetness, I did feel content. It was never how I imagined him holding my first book. Parts of me were swallowed with sorrow that I would never experience this in the way I wanted—a desperate romantic lovemaking all-consuming kind of way—but there were small parts in me that were happy that we could still have this. I don't know if we kept dragging things out this would have been as joyous. That this would have felt like closure.

Alex looked up, meeting my eyes. A small smile played on his lips. The kind that can't be faked in any way. It was real and from the hurt. It was that pride he always had in me. The pride that kept me going for far longer than I'd ever imagined. I wrote the book, but he made the book. I never would've written anything close to it without him. I'd probably be stuck fucking Robert in London if it wasn't for him. It was my reassurance to him that he didn't have to make up for the sudden move to LA as he constantly tried to do. He wasn't in the book, but he was the book. It's why I dedicated it to him. It's why on the last page of his edition of the book I wrote: Don't make fun of me, Al. Thank you for this. I hope you know why. Love, Jane C.

I questioned the "love" part. I didn't want to make him uncomfortable but it would have been far more awkward to write something like "sincerely." I wasn't one for lying, especially about my love for Alex. It was something layered. It didn't rest in that romantic love. He wasn't just my boyfriend and he wasn't just my best friend. It's hard for a writer to find the word. It's nudged somewhere in this book. In all these little words.

"I wanted you to be the first to have it," I said. "Well, one of the first. Wanted to see the look on your face."

He looked back down at the book. Mild disbelief spread across his face as he looked back and forth between the book and me. "Thanks." He wasn't sure what else to say. He rolled everything around and looked as if he was choking on the bone of a chicken.

"It's been a little weird these past few months," I said while picking at my fingernails, an assured sign to Alex that I was referring to us. "I don't want it to feel weird. So, don't cry or anything," I joked.

He chuckled, dislodging the lump. He flipped the book over one more time before placing it on the table. "I'll try not to. I knew you could do it." He stared right at me, emphasizing every little syllable. The awkwardness faded from him and he leaned onto the table. His smile was small but bright. I could find a million different meanings in it, each meaning just as much.

"I know you did. You always did," I told him. "I had this dream last night. It was weird and blurry but we were driving around Sheffield or some weird ghost thing was driving us. It's hard to describe. I don't know. I think it was a sign or something. I'm not sure of what but just those early days of us talking. That's when I really started to write. I suppose my mind was thinking about this lunch and conjured up some old memories."

He smiled at me the whole time, eyes never leaving me, even when I glanced away. "Well, I had a dream that I was one of the animals left off of Noah's Ark, so, you tell me what that means."

I told him it had something to do with his fear of being left behind and he rolled his eyes and said I was trying to be Freud. Lunch came and we ate and laughed and agreed to split the check. He told me he would read the whole book tonight if he could. We hugged goodbye and he whispered in my ear, "I'll send you a proper review."

A few days later, Alex emailed me. It was long. Very long and detailed like he had taken a note on every page. He pulled the sentences he liked the most out, which turned out to be about half the book. I would later write back and ask what that meant for the other half of the book. He said they were left off Noah's Ark too. Continuing his initial email, Alex wrote at the bottom:

You did it. I hope you feel that too. Thank you, Al.

*

I had a book tour. A minimal one since there wasn't the highest of expectations and I didn't want to go to Omaha, Nebraska. So, there was Boston, New York, Atlanta, Chicago, Houston, and Los Angeles. I hated the whole thing. I always wanted to go to these places but I wasn't really going to these places. We lingered in Chicago at the end of July, but it was the equivalent of touring with Alex, except this time I was Alex.

I've never enjoyed talking about my work either but it was nice that people thought it was nice. But that part still felt awkward to me too. Like, people actually read this??? It eased up as it went along. It was a short tour anyway. I wasn't going to Tokyo or anything.

I thought about myself a lot. It was a little lonely but I had adapted to that. Jackson was my only company on the road and it was easy for us to get sick of one another. We had both grown bored with one another, both slightly exhausted from these months so closely intertwined. I thought about Al, often. I thought about myself, often.

Could it be possible that I did everything right? No. I never thought that but I didn't think I did everything wrong. I had cracks in the surface of me and guts that spilled out. I said everything with my pen but nothing with my lips. I hid myself under the disguise of a freshly lonesome girl who knew the only means to move on was to forget. But I didn't forget anything, only myself, just for a little. Pieces of me dropped on the side of the highway. We drove for days and I found no meaning in it, only wondering did he feel like this all the time? How did he bear this loss of self?

I asked myself questions and never got any answers. I felt everything but there was never any meaning in it. There were closed-off vessels, no means to transport blood or oxygen, yet, I was still moving. I suppose that was the only thing left to cling to. I still had the memory of it and those never made me sad. I experienced it. How fortunate was I to be cracked open and exposed to this impenetrable love? I still felt it. We were both on the end of the same wire. It was bent and twisted, knots made to keep strong but disrupt transmission. No love lost. Just changed. I know good comes from change. I didn't feel the goodness but I could taste it coming. So much else was happening. I would hate myself forever for wasting those precious few days of enjoyment in place of a relationship that didn't need nourishment anymore. It was about me. I wanted it to be about me for so long and it finally was. Don't waste it.

The mini-tour ended in LA at the start of August. Summer had whipped me in the face so hard I forgot the season even existed, until I was stuck in the sweaty, SoCal heat, dying for a drop of water. The first night—the day before the Q&A and book signing—Jackson and I got dinner and drinks with Opal.

It was nice to let loose after feeling so pinned up for most of the summer. The liquor soothed my sunburnt skin and I decided the tour as a whole wasn't too bad—I was about 3 drinks in at this point. Then, after another drink, I texted Alex telling him I was in town. The last we chatted was a week or so before when the band opened for the London Olympics. I watched it later on YouTube and told him he did a bang-up job. He told me he nearly shat himself.

Alex had returned to LA since. The city had become his permanent home since the tour had ended. He bought a house out here and everyone in the band, for the most part, had relocated too. So, in my drunken state, I told him I was there and we should hang before I went back to New York.

When I woke up, it was an embarrassing text of I'm in LA, AL. Even in my drunken state, I wrote with proper grammar. Alex wrote back, Come on over. This was in the early hours of the day so he must have been up by some similar means too.

The following night, I panicked. I wondered if this is what single people felt like all the time. Prior to this, I had never faced intimidation when hanging out with Alex, except maybe when I was 17 and that type of thing could be labelled as teenage anxiety. But, no, this was a thing that would plague me the rest of my dating life and I wasn't even going on a date with him. Alex is the only "ex" I had stayed in contact with up to that point. Most of my friends didn't do this type of thing either, at least not Opal who lived by the mentality that once people were gone they were gone forever.

Half my anxiety came from the limited wardrobe out of my suitcase but considering it was just dinner and a dinner that would be had with the other bandmates and the girlfriends, there should've been no pressure. I wouldn't have told you this at the time, I barely want to write it down now, but the nerves I felt weren’t because of Alex, they were because of Arielle. Part of me wanted to be conceived as a non-threat. I was over those days. The other part of me—the stronger part—wanted her to be jealous of me and question why Alex and I ever broke up. I wasn't fully-formed yet. 

The two sides fought and then I just settled on jeans and a tank top because it was boiling outside and I was having drinks at Al's place, not the Windsors. Luckily, I showed up after Jamie and Katie so I thought of using Katie as a shield. I didn't accept Katie and Arielle to be talking though. The word traitor crossed through my brain and then I thought I must be regressing to my college days when Rosie and Will would feel each other up in front of me. Arielle was nice and I was probably an anxious bitch.

So, I hugged both of them as Alex came into the living room. He was staggering, dressed casually beside his uniform slicked hair. "Hey there," he greeted. He was calm, not an awkward bone in his body. He knew he had the upper hand. We were on his home turf with his hot girlfriend and I was a single mess who had been on plane after plane and stunk of cigarettes.

The room was hot with sweat dripping off every surface it seemed. The air conditioner was running but the flaming air came rushing in with the swing of the front door as Matt and Breana entered. The room became distracted by them, both looking darling. I hugged each of them, distracting myself in their grasp.

Arielle had lit candles for the dining table. It was the only thing formal about the informal event. The house itself was rather bare. Alex never carried much, I was always the one with the shit. 

Alex tapped my arm. "You want a drink?"

"What do you have?" I asked.

He waved his arm and I followed him to the kitchen, isolating ourselves. "Beer, wine, tequila, vodka, all the fixings. I can make you something if you'd like. Margarita?"

"Anything non-alcoholic?" Alcohol would ease my nerves but it would lead to my loud mouth and I couldn't afford that tonight.

He looked bewildered. "Who are you?" He joked.

We kept our distance. I pushed my hair behind my shoulder. "Got real drunk with Opal and Jackson last night. Figured I'd keep it clean. At least for now."

"Right then. Iced tea?"

He knew me well. I laughed at his smile and agreed to this. I moved closer to the refrigerator to just feel the cold air on my skin. He poured the glass, leaving the door open for me. I chugged the coldness like it was the elixir of life. It felt like my lungs re-inflated when the liquid dispersed and his eyes looked at mine again, so clearly over that fogged-up glass. Wet brown eyes into my baby blues and it felt like he might reach out and snatch them out of my eyes and keep them for himself. He always liked them. He has a thing for blue eyes.

We talked around the dining table, eating a mix of something Arielle had cooked and pizza. I had the pizza. Everyone talked loosely about things I had no knowledge of. Jokes about LA and all these people I had no concept of. I suppose if they had come to New York it would have been similar, except they all shared this with one another.

The sweet Breana turned the attention onto me, which partially made me shrink and revel in the joy of being included. "Oh, Jane, I loved the book!" Everyone chanted in similar sentiments all at once.

I laughed and took a bite of my pizza crust. "You didn't all read it," I laughed.

"I read parts of it," Jamie said. They were all sweet but I'm unsure how often any of them even had the chance to pick up a book, let alone their best friend's ex-girlfriend. Because that's what I was now. That was my title.

Alex looked at me. I could hear my mother's words ringing through his lips so I smiled and said, "Thank you."

"Disappointed I wasn't in it more," Matt said. "You know if it wasn't for me the book would've never been made." The long story of it has made that true but I can't give Matt credit for everything, it might go to his head too much.

"How's that?" Arielle asked. Everything shifted after that. We could all tell that she had been the wrong one to ask that question. Whether she was clueless and curious or was trying to make a dig at Alex, I wasn't sure, but I felt like an imposition being there. I didn't feel like an out-of-town friend. I felt like an ex-girlfriend.

Nobody spoke so I spoke. "Matt introduced me and Alex." I sipped my drink to wash down any other awkwardness.

Everyone seemed awkward other than Arielle. She quickly nodded and said, "Oh, yeah, Al told me that." I wondered why everyone else was so stiff when Arielle didn't seem to have much of a problem with it. Why should she when she looked like that?

I felt frumpy and had to pee badly from all the iced tea I had drank but I was too scared to go to the bathroom and see her things mixed with Alex's things. I could leave there with ambiguity and the belief that Alex didn't move on so quickly and I was stuck being alone.

"That was our first gig," Matt said. He seemed to relax, always the person to slice through any amount of tension. "Almost 10 years ago now."

"What was it like?" Arielle asked.

"Awful," Alex said. His eyes pointed toward me. "Right?"

"I don't know. I never reviewed it, remember?" He laughed and it felt inappropriate to display this inside language in front of everyone. "It feels weird that I'm the only one here who watched it." Even if that had been the case for many years, it had been a while since we all gathered around in a circle and talked about those days.

"I wasn't even there," Nick remarked. The room buckled with chuckles.

I laid my forehead against the palm of my hand resting against the table. "God," I said, "I spent that whole show with Will’s hand on my ass and Joanie screaming in my ear."

"Oh, god, Joanie," Matt muttered.

"Oh, god, Will," Jamie cracked.

"She got married last month," I told them. She had invited me but I was in the middle of the tour. We talked about once a year and everything was always nice. The only time I would've had the chance of running into her was when Alex and I visited Sheffield and that obviously wasn't happening anymore.

"Bless that man's heart," Matt quipped.

I shook my head. "No, she seems to have settled down in the last few years. I guess we all did. Seems so long ago."

"It was," Alex said. "We're getting old, Janie." His silence punctured the air. My lungs felt like they were deflating. He poured himself another glass.

Things grew looser and looser. They rattled off stories of LA, I rattled off stories from the road. Arielle excused herself to bed, citing an early morning. Her bed was upstairs.

Each couple left one by one until Alex and I awkwardly remained. I figured then I should leave. He walked me to the door with a freshly poured glass in his hand. "Hope I didn't keep you up too late," I said because I wasn't sure what else to say. It reminded me of what my parents said to each other after a fight. It was the one thing they clung to in order to keep their marriage somehow working.

He shook his head and sipped. "No, no. It's fine. You're always good company."

I shrugged. The whole thing kind of felt awkward, at least with him. I could laugh with Matt and throw my arm around Katie, even hug Arielle good night, but whenever my eyes landed on Alex, I tensed up so tightly I knew I'd be sore the next day. "If you're ever in New York or whatever."

He nodded and smiled. He would be visiting his old apartment. I wondered how that would make him feel. Was it the same when I walked into his house and noticed different shoes by the door than mine? Would the emptiness of his presence leave him uneasy? "I'd like that," Alex said.

"Thanks for having me." We reached the door and the end of the night but we stayed awkwardly staring at each other.

"Course. Text me when you're back at the hotel and safe and all that." He was drunk, rambling with an incapability of holding his tongue.

I smiled. "I will."

I didn't know whether to hug him or not. He leaned forward and kissed me. It wasn't affectionate. It was a peck. The kind my mother used to give me when left for school in the morning. Of course, she was my mother and I was 7 and Alex was drunk and I was, well, awkward. 

I said, "Night," and turned away. We never talked about it because there was nothing to talk about. It very well could have been a kiss on the cheek just like I gave Katie and Breana before they left. Of course, that was Katie and Breana and this was Alex—no longer mine.

*

Rain pattered against the window. Jackson and I returned to New York a week prior and we were now sitting in my apartment, drinking, and about to call Opal to join us. I felt dizzy and Jackson looked sleepy. It had been a long month.

"So," he said, "what's next?"

I finished off my glass. "What do you mean?" The year felt empty as the cold was beginning to creep into my summer warmth. 2012 was a bumpy year where so much yet so little happened. I was growing sick of my apartment because no matter how rid it was of Alex, he still had a whole life with me here. When I returned to it after the book tour, I was ready to move on.

Jackson placed his arm on the back of the couch. The tips of his fingers softly poked at my shoulder. "Now it's time to think about the next book."

I tossed my head back with a groan. "Gimme a break."

He chuckled and placed his empty glass on the end table. "No rush. For now."

I sat up straight, finishing off my glass, and growing more and more serious every day. "Thanks for doing this for me, Jackson."

He nodded. "My pleasure."

"I feel kind of empty," I confessed.

His brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

I didn't feel like explaining it. I was growing tired of doing that with people. My stomach ached and I pushed Alex out of my mind. I felt that I had sacrificed our relationship for this success, even if it wasn't true. I thought I would have been over it by that time of year. It had been over a year. But it still felt so unnatural for him to feel so far removed from my life. Every word we spoke felt tinged with sadness and I didn't want it to feel that way. I wanted to move on.

I kissed Jackson. He kissed back. We never called Opal.

*

Jackson and I started dating in a casual way. We were exclusive to one another and treated each other as a boyfriend and girlfriend would but I suppose my association with dating was always a far deeper connection. I wasn't alone in this. Jackson had long-term girlfriends prior to me. He was older than me, not by some outrageous amount. He was born in 1979, seven years older, but I was 26 and 33 didn't feel so far off.

Opal loved it. She felt like the ultimate matchmaker and wanted to be both the maid of honor and the best man. My New York crew loved him. Fennel and Kaka found him to be rich in conversation. He liked going out more than Alex but then again most people liked going out more than Alex. Except more and more it seemed Alex enjoyed the going out part. (I was taken but I was still a snooping ex-girlfriend).

I didn't tell Alex. It felt awkward to call him up and tell him I got a new boyfriend. I decided to tell him when I saw him again, which didn't come up. He was in Los Angeles. I was in New York. We didn't talk very often either. I think I called him once in October because I couldn't remember the name of a restaurant we went to (he didn't remember either). 

Other than that, there wasn't much reason to talk. We had completely separate lives. But I was aware of what he was up to. I wasn't cyber-stalking him much anymore (only on nights when I was wildly intoxicated). I talked to Katie occasionally and texted Breana from time to time. Things about Alex would slip through the cracks and get to me but the majority of it was just that they were recording their new album.

We had both moved on. Or we were both pretending we did. At least I was pretending, in some form. I thought about him all the time. I didn't feel like a day went by when I didn't think about him. It wasn't in some romantic longing way. I had shared a life with him from such a young age and to be forced apart from it felt unnatural. There were so many jokes and stories that went untold because no one would get it but him.

When I went back home for the holidays, I confided this to my mother. I don't know why, maybe because of what she had told me so many years ago in Florida. I don't know if my mother ever actually liked Alex so I figured if she said awful things about him it would make me feel better. Of course, she didn't.

"It goes away," she said. "One day, you wake up and you're numb to it. You just get numb to it in the end, Jane. All those people you hated and loved turn to nothing. Even the ones you still want to love. You'll be thankful for it when the day comes that you don't feel anything anymore."

I frowned and my mother left me on the couch to fetch another bottle of wine. In retrospect, my mother was suffering from mental illness, but I was oblivious to that because I had grown oblivious to most of my mother's behavior. I just didn't want to engage with it anymore. Maybe part of me was numb toward her.

I didn't want to feel nothing. I couldn't imagine not feeling anything for Alex, even if we remained friends for the rest of our lives. I had tethered so much sentimentality toward him, he might as well have been a knick-knack on my shelf. Letting go of him would be letting go of an entire part of myself. I was content if that part only came out once a year when I saw him but I couldn't let go of it forever.

*

Joanie was having a baby. She likely got pregnant on her honeymoon. Someone my age having a child felt unnatural. I pictured Joanie being a teen mum, not a 26-year-old pregnant woman. She invited me to the baby shower taking place right after Christmas. It was ideal timing since all her closest friends would be in town or, like me, the country.

I debated going but decided that since I missed the wedding the least I could do was go to the baby shower. So, I drove the Beetle up to Wakefield. I figured it would be a mini-reunion. The only one I had seen as of late was Claire, who lived in Bristol now, and I hadn't seen since last winter.

We drove up together and listened to Radio 2 on full blast the whole way. I don't think I had ever felt more like a teenager even when I was a teenager. Claire continued her streak of always being a comfort for me. While other friends might be wedding and birthing, Claire had just ended her two-year-long relationship and gagged in her mouth at the thought of being a mother one day. 

It made me miss England so desperately. I forgot how much I ached to drive, which I hadn't done in years. The closest I had gotten to a car was the one taxi ride home drunk at 4 AM. And to drive on the left side of the road! I hadn't heard someone speak in a British accent since the dinner at Alex's. It eased my ears and made me wonder why I ever left, which just led to me thinking about Alex again.

Claire said, "I hate Alex, which sucks 'cause I like Alex." In a way, it summed up how conflicted I felt. Hate is a strong word but I was resentful for how everything went down. Then again, I probably didn't have much of a right.

Joanie's house was straight out of a picture book. I didn't know houses like that even existed in Wakefield. It wasn't fancy but at the sight of it, you'd call it a home. She had a little garden in the front that she said her husband grew herbs in that she used for cooking. It made Claire and I roll our eyes but we both desperately wanted that kind of companionship. If I ever would learn how to cook or grow plants, maybe that could be my life. I refused to do either, but it was a nice thought.

I bought Joanie—or Joanie's baby—these cozy fleece booties because that's what New York Magazine said to get. I never bought anything for a baby before (I got away with it two years ago during Harper's unmentioned pregnancy of my first nephew, Benjamin, by having my mother buy a gift for me) so I had no clue what to get. I bought Joanie this nice set of body washes that were her favourite when we were 17 with the hope that they either still were or she would feel nostalgic over them.

Claire and I ate a slice of cake and watched Joanie open her presents. Halfway through we turned to each other and decided we were going to go out drinking after. I love Joanie but oohing and awing over baby gifts with a bunch of women I barely knew got old quickly, especially incredibly sober and in the middle of the winter blues. The cake was good though.

The shower ended around 4 and while I was down to get hammered that early, Claire wanted to go out to lunch first. We ended up meeting up with AB at a pub. I hadn't seen AB since 2006 and I nearly cried at the sight of him all grown up. Claire and AB had broken up long ago but stayed in touch as good friends and if they could do it—two incredibly mature people—maybe Alex and I could too. 

AB's girlfriend of two years (and future wife), Shay, joined us as well. It almost made me barf how gorgeous they were together and I was shocked Claire wasn't fuming more over how beautiful Shay was. I was almost fuming over how beautiful Shay was!

AB sipped on a beer, which I don't think I had ever witnessed. He shared it was Shay and I swallowed down my drink at the painful thought that Alex and I once did things like that. I was such a sad sack. I thought about calling Jackson. Thank god I didn't.

We left the pub, hugging AB and Shay goodbye next to the Beetle. Claire and I were going to go back to the hotel to change out of our baby shower clothes and "hit the town.”

We waved goodbye to the couple and that's when I saw Alex with his mum. I turned my back to him and grabbed Claire's arm. "I think I'm gonna vomit."

She looked at me completely puzzled. "What? Why?"

I was so freaked out by the sight of him. I think the unexpected nature of it threw me off-balanced. I had never been that unnerved by the sight of him. My head felt like my brain was about to burst out of my ears. "Get in the car," I harshly muttered to her.

She was still unaware but she raced around the side of the car to get into the passenger seat. We bolted out of there before he crossed the street.

*

It was midnight when I called him. I was definitely drunk, but not wasted, standing outside a club smoking while Claire chatted up with some guy inside. I was freezing and felt so childish for doing it, even in the moment, but I wanted to see him. It shouldn't feel right that I was here and he wasn't.

"Hello." His voice was clear so he hadn't been sleeping. I wonder if he was in bed (with Arielle).

I swallowed whatever dignity I had left and let the rest loose. "Hey. I'm in Wakefield for Joanie's baby shower 'cause apparently we're old enough to have children now and now I'm out with Claire at a club. We drove up together from Bath, well, Bristol for her, Bath for me, but you know that. Jesus. I saw you earlier today and raced into my car because I was so scared by the sight of you, which made me realize I'm not as mature as I thought I was. And it was just after we went to lunch with AB and Shay and Claire and AB still get along like they didn't have this romantic relationship and I know that we get along too but I raced to my car and nearly shit myself. Now, I'm outside a club smoking in the middle of winter because I apparently regress back to teenage tendencies when I'm in Yorkshire or maybe just England in general. Anyway, I'm drunk and I'm thinking this was stupid and it probably is but I know you're probably laughing at me right now but I'm freezing my ass off and I can't figure out how to get back inside the club and Claire isn't answering her phone, which means she's probably shagging someone or something and I wouldn't want to interrupt that, you know, and I probably should just get a cab back to the hotel but I called you for some reason. Well, not for some reason because I'm drunk. Okay, now you talk."

I was out of breath and sure I had just lost my mind. I need another shot of tequila. I felt I was growing too sober to face the repercussions of this. I took a drag of my cigarette and listened to his breathing on the other end of the line.

I could hear his smile. I still had a knack for that kind of thing. "I saw you too, you know."

I slapped my forehead and thought about slamming my head into the brick wall until it broke my skull and my brain gushed out. "Did it look like we were being held at gunpoint?"

He chuckled lowly. "A little. But I must've looked like someone pointed a gun at me. I'd recognize that car anywhere, Janie."

I didn't know what to say. My car was such a sensitive topic for both of us. It was the cornerstone (ha) of our relationship, especially for the car to be returned to its rightful county. I thought I'd feel weird driving it but everything felt right like it was a complete homecoming. Like nature had found its way and every piece fell perfectly into the puzzle.

"I thought I would be grown up by now," I confessed.

He suppressed a laugh. "I like you this way. Makes me feel less alone."

"How so?"

He waited, not wanting to fully let the truth go but it was me he was talking to. There wasn't much point in lying. "I've called you in various states of intoxication too."

"Not after running to your car," I pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure I'll do it one of these days." It was a silence but a vibration rang across the line to one another. Call it a vibe or a wavelength or just a feeling, but I could feel him like he was standing right next to me. "Where are you?"

It was so embarrassing I laughed. "Che & Coco." It was Barnsley College's resident bar and nightclub. The average age of the crowd was barely 20 and I felt like such a loser trying to claim that nostalgia is what made me want to club there.

"Geez, you really are down bad." His laughter rang through the phone and I nearly hung up due to how beet red my face was. He laughed and laughed. I could picture him with his hands on his knees, walking home from Will's house, unable to breathe he was laughing so hard. Then, I couldn't breathe. "You want me to pick you up?"

I'd like that a lot but I couldn't take it. That was a bridge too far. "No, no. I'll just call a taxi or something. Maybe even walk. My hotel isn't that far."

"You're gonna walk in Barnsley at midnight? Hope you don't get hit with a beer bottle," he joked. That had happened to Will back in the day. I'm convinced it made him even dumber if that's possible.

"I've walked later than this in New York," I reasoned.

"Janie," he stopped me, "I'd like to see you if you won't run away from me."

I sighed. "I'll see you in 20. I'll be waiting on Peel." Because maybe I would like to see him too.

He pulled up in his mum's car. It wasn't her car from way back in the day but it made him feel sophomoric to me. His hair wasn't gelled up, instead falling around in tendrils of combed-back magic. He had a hoodie on and a smile on his face. He honked the horn of the car and I dashed across the street to his car.

The car was warm, at least warmer than outside where I had been suffering. I tugged my coat closer and put my seatbelt on. "Hi."

Alex smiled over at me. "Hi." He pulled back onto the road and I couldn't remember the last time he had driven me. "How've you been?"

I shrugged in his peripheral vision. "Fine. Christmas was fine. My dad bought me Slouching Toward Bethlehem."

Alex laughed. "About 10 years too late."

"Yeah, but at least he's trying. I can't remember the last time he bought me a gift." My mother handled all the presents, something she was rather good at, even if it always felt like she didn't know me.

We stopped at a red light. "I didn't get anything for you," he said while looking over at me.

"Well, I didn't get you anything either." First time in eight years. It didn't even cross my mind. "This is enough of a present anyway."

He nodded in agreement. "Good." I believed him. The nod of his head told me that this meant as much to me as it did to me. Drunk actions are sober thoughts and sometimes I just wanted to hear his voice.

We kept driving. I had yet to tell him any directions. He was headed the right way but I wouldn't have had the willpower to tell him anyway. I liked driving around with him. I liked just this. The vibration of the road beneath us and the scent of him washing over me. The slowness of Yorkshire and the heat of him beside me. It made everything feel right.

"Arielle come with you?"

He rubbed his eye. He looked tired. "Nah. She went to her parents’." I nodded and he waited, looking over at me. I stared at him blankly. He looked back at the road and kept the car moving. "What about, uh, Jackson?"

My head snapped toward him. "He's at his parents’." I picked at my nails. I didn't want to talk about this. Why did it feel like I was cheating on him? It felt like Alex had died and I was some widower trying to move on but his ghost was coming back to shame me.

"Katie mentioned something," he muttered.

"Yeah," I explained, "just a few months."

He nodded slowly. "He's a nice guy." I laughed out loud. He laughed too, for some reason. "What?"

I shook my head. "We don't have to talk about my boyfriend."

"Okay. We don't have to talk about Arielle." It was probably some form of cheating, emotionally. We gazed at one another and never acted on anything, but the aftertaste of it didn't feel right. But in the moment, everything had fallen perfectly into place.

We went nowhere and neither of us said a single thing about it. The drive from the club to my hotel was ten minutes. We drove around for an hour.

"Joanie's house is beautiful. It's like my dream house. It isn't big but it's not a cottage or anything. But it's quaint. She's got plants and I never thought Joanie could take care of a living thing and now she's gonna have a baby," I told him. I fiddled with the radio, even though we weren't gonna listen to it.

"Are you sure they aren't fake?" He joked. I chuckled and hit his shoulder. "Eh! Watch it. I'm driving here, missy."

I held my hands up as a defense. I eased them back down with a giggle and tugged on my seatbelt strap. "You know, I thought I'd have a baby by now."

He snorted. "No, you did not."

"At one point I did. I mean, back before you. Like when I was still playing with dolls." 

He laughed again and everything made sense. "Good thing you don't. You can't even keep a plant alive."

"They're not self-sufficient enough."

"And you think a baby will be easier?"

"Not anymore but at six I did! It was right around when Stacey was born. I took good care of her."

Alex felt warm with a smile. "You did." He was an only child but at times I felt he might consider her a sister too. She considered him a brother. He had been around since she was 11. She was only a little over a year away from graduating university. 

"Granted I didn't have to breastfeed her."

It was still dark outside but it felt like the sun was rising in that car. "You wouldn't be happy living Joanie's life."

"How do you know?" I questioned. "Maybe if I was settled I'd feel better."

Alex's jaw gaped. He breathed a laugh and I looked over at him curiously. "Jane, you'd be losing your mind. The whole time I knew you here, you were begging to get out of here."

"Maybe I had it all wrong."

He shook his head, never looking over at me, just driving. "You're a completely different person because you got out of here. You're gonna get all that stuff one day. The kid, the garden, whatever the fuck you want, but you'd never have what you have no if you stayed put. You always knew what you wanted. Your gut is always right. I've learned that."

I sighed and accepted he was right. "Grass is always greener, I guess."

"Yeah," he agreed. "But I think you have the greenest grass. You're the one who's a bestseller."

I rolled my eyes and leaned on the center console. "She's the one with the husband and baby."

He scoffed, "So is half the world. You have a tough time being proud of your accomplishments."

I gasped. "Look who's talking. My god!"

Alex chuckled and it felt like food for my soul. Fertilizer to my soil to keep growing. "Fair enough. But be cocky every once and a while, Janie. You deserve it."

I took what he said to heart but ignored him. I wanted to talk about something else. I wanted to put my feet in his lap and ride to Charlton Brook. Instead, I leaned back and looked at him. "We used to talk about the future so much and now it's come and gone."

"You're not dead yet." But we were. I think that's what I really meant. All those things I had planned with him and I had to be content with letting them go. Watching those promises slip through my fingers. I had no right to feel that way but it's all I felt.

I wanted to tell him I loved him with the windows rolled down and the cold air rushing in because he used to let me do that. I believe that right had been revoked. "I missed it here." The truth was hidden in those words, in between the lines, deep in those letters, stuffed in between them.

He hummed, glancing over. "Me too. Everything feels a little simpler."

I heard the radio speaking, ringing some familiar tune that I couldn't think of the name. Maybe if it had been a little simpler and Alex and I stayed there forever, in the car ride between Wakefield and High Green, we'd have a house, a garden, a ring, a little thing on the way. 

But I would've missed out on a lot more. I would have missed out on a lot of Alex. How he was with his hair long in the middle of Joshua Tree, looking over at me instead of the night sky. How he made up our bed in our London studio apartment into a couch because we didn't have enough space for one. How he felt sitting next to me on the C train at 2 AM. How he felt in the dead of winter in Yorkshire, somehow ending up at my hotel with a hoodie I used to wear and a smile he still wears just for me.

I'll never know otherwise. And that's fine.

*

a/n: this was a struggle but i think it landed right in the end. much, much more to come.

[xaphrin]

Unfortunately Friends and Inconvenient Feelings

I wanted to do something for the @damiraedemonbirds DamiRae Holiday ruckus, featuring my two favorite tropes of: trapped in the frozen wilderness alone with each other, and oh no, there’s only one bed! It’s a very stern PG or gentle PG-13.

Sorry it’s down to the wire. I hope you all have a lovely new year and do jack-all this weekend. Thank you for being amazing. 

- - -  

The white, crystalline snow seemed to stretch out for eternity in all directions, glittering in the bright moonlight. The stillness in the air unsettled him. Damian was used to the ruckus of Titan Tower, of the chaos in the manor, and the never ending noise of Gotham city. This echoing stillness seemed to swallow every sound and movement in the space around him, and the world felt small. 

Stupid. 

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, steam rising from his lips. This whole situation was far from his ideal way to spend his last day of this year, but… His thoughts paused as his heart turned over, and he glanced back at the cabin, knowing Raven was nestled inside. Cabin was being generous, the structure was little more than a shack with a few windows. This evening could have been worse. 

During a fight, Raven had drained herself completely of her powers, leaving her empty and exhausted. She had tried to get them both back to the tower via a portal, but what little had been left of her magic gave out halfway there, and they ended up trapped in the wilderness of… somewhere. There were endless, empty miles to anything even remotely resembling civilization, and every step through the knee deep snow had been harder and harder on Raven until they simply inched along. 

Damian had been the one to suggest they take shelter in the small hunter's cabin when they stumbled upon it. It was a gift, one he wasn’t going to turn away because there might have been a town close. Besides, the temperature was still dropping rapidly, and there was not much either of them could do against the bitter cold. They would stay there for the night, and make their way back to the tower in the morning, after Raven had regained use of her powers. 

The cabin was a single room with a double bed, a wood stove, and little else. Damian had stayed in worse places for more than just a single night, but the longer he could avoid the use of an outhouse, the better. It wasn’t ideal, but it was something to protect them from the icy winter. He could suffer through it, especially if Raven was with him.  

Grimacing, he turned back to the cabin, his crunching steps the only sound in the world. Vulnerable. He hated feeling so damn vulnerable. With a muttered curse, he opened the door to the cabin and knocked the snow off his boots. The wood stove warmed the small space and cast a thin, golden glow over everything in it. Raven was sitting up in the bed, staring out the window. She seemed lost in thought, and it gave Damian time to gauge her health. Color had returned to her face, and her eyes seemed a little bit brighter. He breathed a sigh of relief, at least she was on the mend. 

"How are you feeling?” He dusted snow off his shoulders. “Do you need more water? I can boil some." The stream a few yards away had frozen over, and the hand pump outside was rusted beyond use, so Damian was forced to heat and boil snow in a small pot on the stove. Primitive living at its finest. 

Raven shook her head. "I'm fine." A shiver wracked her body and she pulled the threadbare quilt tighter around her, trying to block out some of the chill that seeped in through the drafty windows. 

There was a pause as Damian unfastened his cloak and dropped it onto the stool where Raven's cloak and belt lay. "Get some rest. I spoke to Dick and Kory, they'll be here in the morning if you're not fully healed. The storm we walked through moved south and is impeding their ability to get here." Damian rolled his eyes. "And the rest of the League is either out on missions of their own or celebrating New Year's Eve."

Raven smirked even as another shiver slid down her spine. "The last thing we need is a drunk Meta trying to rescue us." She shook her head, pushing her damp hair from her eyes. "I'll be fine by the morning, and then I can send us back. Sorry for the inconvenience."

Damian shrugged. “I’ve suffered through far worse. An evening in the middle of nowhere is almost a vacation.”

“You could probably have better company though.” Raven took a sip of water from a chipped mug. “I doubt spending your New Year’s Eve trapped in the middle of nowhere with me is anything but ideal.”

He glanced back at her, his lips pulling down in a frown. “Why would you say that? Aren’t we friends?”

She stared at him, her expression quiet. “I wasn’t aware you kept friends. Teammates are just reluctant annoyances.” 

“I would say you’re something far more than a reluctant annoyance.” He offered her a sardonic smirk, his eyes meeting her own. “Involuntary friends is at least marginally closer to what we are.”

Raven laughed, the sound soft and bright in the cold stillness of the cabin. “Involuntary friends? That sounds almost like you don’t completely hate being around me.” 

“An astute observation.” Damian moved to the wood stove and added another split log to the fire. He had left a few hundred dollars for whoever owned this space, it was the least he could do after the cabin saved Raven's life. 

She shuddered again, and Damian turned around to stare at her. "Are you still cold?"

"A little. But I’ll be fine."

Damian stood there and stared at her for a few moments, weighing his options. He could stoke the fire hotter, but they’d likely burn through the small amount of dry wood far too quickly. Letting go of a resigned sigh, he started to strip his damp uniform from his body, leaving it to rest near the warmth of the wood stove. 

Raven's face flushed and she glanced away. "What are you doing?"

"Getting out of my wet clothes.” He frowned. “And, sharing warmth. Besides, there's only one bed." His eyebrow lifted and he gave her a flat stare, as if he was expecting her to challenge him. "If you'd rather freeze through the rest of the night, then I'm happy to accommodate that request as well and sleep on the floor." 

Raven considered his empty threat, but instead shook her head. "No…"

"Then stop complaining." He peeled off his pants, leaving him in a pair of compression leggings and his undershirt. Raven let go of a small snort, and he glared at her. "What?"

She pitched forward and rested her chin in her hand, her eyes gliding over his form. "I always wondered what you wore under your uniform. I never guessed leggings."

He rolled his eyes and walked to the bed. "They help with chafing."

Raven laughed. "Heir to the League of Assassins, and you're a little miffed over chafing?" She shook her head and smiled, another shiver shaking her. 

“Shut up and roll over so I can hold you.” Damian pulled back the covers and crawled under them. Without another thought, he wrapped his arms around Raven and pulled her back against his chest. 

Slowly, her shivering subsided and she pushed back against him, snuggling into his own body heat. Damian stilled, holding a breath as he felt her well-shaped ass fit comfortably in the cradle of his hips. Holding a breath tightly in his lungs, he stared blankly at the wall across from them, trying to calm his mind. 

He had always known that Raven had a fit body, but age had been good to her. She was soft in a way he never really paid attention to, but he was getting acquainted with now. He wanted to run his fingertips over her, to trace every inch of her and remember how she felt under his touch. He wanted to memorize her so that he would never forget anything about her. 

He hadn’t been lying when he said they had transformed from reluctant teammates into involuntary friends, and he knew that buried even deeper than that, he harbored unfortunate romantic feelings for her. Inconvenient, unfortunate romantic feelings. 

“How are you so damn warm?” Raven pushed back against him, the tension in her shoulders easing. “You’re like a furnace.”

“Genetics.” He rested his chin on the crown of her head and tightened his arm along her waist. “Now go to sleep. The sooner you heal, the sooner we can get back to the tower. So rest.”

She fidgeted in his arms, and that did nothing but press her ass tighter against his hips. Damian rolled his eyes to the ceiling and grumbled. “Stop moving.”

“Why? Oh.” She paused and he could feel her vibrate with laughter, the sound teasing and almost playful. “Is this your first time sharing a bed with a girl?”

It was his first time sharing a bed with a girl he actually liked, which was entirely different from anything he had experienced before. “No. Now shut up and go to sleep. Or if you’re feeling well enough to tease me, then you must be well enough to get us back to the tower.” Her silence spoke volumes. “That’s what I thought.” 

“What would you be doing if we were back home?”

Damian sighed but decided to indulge her questions. “Father hosts a New Year’s gala I’m usually required to attend.” He laughed. “Compared to that, being stranded in the middle of nowhere is a delight.”

Raven chuckled, her tension easing a little more. “I can imagine. Although that sounds at least marginally more exciting than my usual New Year’s Eve.” 

His curiosity piqued. “And what would you be doing?”

She shrugged. “I’d be at home reading.” 

“You don’t have a boyfriend you’d spend New Year’s eve with?” He paused, thinking. “Or a girlfriend?” He knew the answer of course, but let her speak instead. 

“No. Potential dates tend not to stick around for very long once they figure out I have the ability to obliterate the world.” She shifted in his arms and rolled over to face him, and it felt intensely more intimate. “I’d like to think that maybe one year I’ll get kissed on New Year’s, but… so far I spend my time consulting dusty old tomes and watching the ball in Metropolis drop on YouTube. Enthralling, I know.” 

Damian snorted. “If you’d rather make an appearance at my father’s gala, I can make that arrangement. That way you don’t have to be alone on New Year’s.”

“Mm. If I can’t find someone willing to suffer through my powers by the end of next year, I will take you up on that. Besides, I’ve always wanted to try real champagne and canapes.” She paused, a teasing smirk pulling at her lips. “And is that your way of offering to kiss me on New Year’s, Damian? Inviting me to your father’s gala?”

“No.” Yes actually, he supposed it was. “Besides, kissing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” The few people he had kissed had ended disastrously. His experience was mostly women trying to trick him into believing they had real feelings, and make their way into rich society. 

“I don’t believe you’ve been kissed enough then.” Raven teased and tilted her face up towards him. 

He snorted, but somehow managed to keep his expression unreadable. Inside his heart picked up speed practically slamming against his ribs. Her lips looked undeniably kissable, plump and soft, and it would only take a few small movements before he would know exactly what kissing her felt like. Probably like tasting starlight. He swallowed and shifted under the covers, pulling her cold body a little closer to his own. 

He glanced down at her again, feigning annoyance. “Is that your way of saying you’d like to kiss me?”

“Is that your way of offering?” She hummed. 

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say her expression was almost coquettish. But Raven didn’t flirt, and least of all with him. She was known to be nothing less than despondent. Flirtatious wasn’t exactly listed in her personality traits. He shifted again, feeling her cold toes press against his ankles. Jesus, she was so damn cold. Pulling her closer, he tucked her body into his chest. “Stop teasing.”

There was a long pause, and he felt her breath warm his collarbone. “Who said I was teasing?”   

Damian let that stew for a moment, his heart picking up speed again. “There’s no way you want to kiss me.” 

She tilted her face up to his, her nose brushing against his chin. “I was unaware you knew the inner workings of my mind, Damian.” Her voice held a cold, sharp edge to it, and it stung. “Please enlighten me on all the things you think I want or don’t want since I seem to not know my own thoughts.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, and so he kept silent. Raven kicked his shin and he looked down at her, her eyes narrowing. What was she expecting him to do? Actually kiss her? The thought made his head spin and he opened and closed his mouth, trying to think of an appropriate response to her. Except she left him speechless. His mind was spinning and his hands tightened on her, pulling her closer. 

Kiss Raven.

Across the room, their phones simultaneously buzzed, shaking them both from their trance and alerting them both to the New Year. They had missed their usual parties and celebrations, and yet this moment felt infinitely more important. This muted conversation in a room neither of them had ever been in, trapped in the wilderness far away from any world either of them knew.  It might not have been how he expected any of this to go, but it still felt like everything he had ever wanted wrapped up and gifted to him. 

“Well, if you won’t do it, then I guess I’ll just do it myself.” Raven’s shoulders squared as if she was staring down an enemy, and she glared up into his face. Without another word, her fingers tangled in the front of his shirt and she pulled him down for a kiss. 

Damian lay there frozen as her lips pressed soft and chaste to his own. A kiss. A kiss from Raven. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Yes, he’d kissed before, but he hadn’t ever kissed someone he had such deep feelings for. None of his other kisses had been Raven, the woman he had secretly mooned over since they were young teenagers. The woman he had such deep emotions for that he couldn’t describe them. 

His eyes closed and he tangled his fingers in her hair drawing her close to him, if only so he could feel more of her body against his own. Deep in his chest, his heart picked up speed again, and he found himself leaning over her, pressing her into the lumpy, musty mattress. 

He could feel every ounce of her emotion poured into her kiss - her worry, her fear, her attraction, and her love. She loved him in a way no one had ever loved him before. It was the kind of emotion that felt like it could move mountains, and it shook him to his core and filled him with light and warmth. She loved him.

Raven sighed and pulled away a fraction of an inch, a breathy laugh escaping. “This is certainly a way to keep warm.”

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers, unable to stop a chuckle from escaping. Her voice was soft, and he could feel her trembling again, but this time it was from something completely different than cold. They both lay there, entangled in each other's arms as the moment stilled, and Damian looked into her face. “How long?”

Raven pondered the question, an embarrassed flush darkening her cheeks. “Does it matter?”

He leaned over her again, searching her face. The confession welled up before he could tell himself to stop, and the words cut the weighty silence between them. “It’s been years for me. Ever since you gave me shit at the carnival and wouldn’t let me be a brooding, disgruntled teen.” 

A soft chuckle escaped her lips and she slipped her cold hands under his shirt, pressing them into his warmth. “Is that so? Maybe I should have put you in your place more often. Maybe it would have made you avoid those boring New Year’s galas.” Her hand slid up to his shoulder, dragging the shirt with it. “And maybe I would have kissed you sooner.”

He nuzzled her neck, peppering soft, chaste kisses along her jaw. “Forgive me, Raven. That our first kiss is just a little later than either of us wanted.” He paused and glanced around the cabin, his mouth pulling down to a frown. “And that it’s in a place like this.” 

“Next year, you can kiss me at your father’s fancy gala after I’m drunk on champagne and fat with canapes.” Her eyes darkened and she let go of a soft, pleased sigh. “For now though? I’m content. Even in a place like this.” 

He smiled, the warmth in his chest spreading out over his whole body. “Happy New Year.”

“The happiest one I’ve had yet.” 

[kokororyuu]

once more [levi ackerman x reader]

synopsis: it was impossible. he would never see you again, levi thought, but perhaps he had jinxed himself. though he didn’t regret a single thing.

warnings ⚠️: angst, major character death(s), manga SPOILERS, (brief) suicidal thoughts, brief description of gore

word count: 2k

author’s note: i think this is one of my best works yet, like i literally LOVE love this one :>>, i think the only part i was kinda “ehhh” about was the part where [eradicated] dies because i cannOT write gore </3, but either way, have fun reading, bubs!!

PART ONE: miles apart

he missed you.

god, he missed you so much.

he still remembered your touch, your smile, your words, no matter how irritating they’d get when they interfered with work, but he couldn’t even blame you for being on his mind. after all, it was him who was attracted to you.

and in your last moments, you had whispered the same to him.

you were so addictive, like the tea he served himself daily. not too bitter, not too sweet, a perfect mix of flavors that seemed to wash away his unspoken confessions on the tip of his tongue every time he took another sip, leaving a bitter aftertaste and unsettled emotions.

levi couldn’t stay still in his office, burying himself in paperwork only to change his mind and toss his quill down with a sigh. he drew back the curtain in his office to stare blankly at the moon, now full as it had been that day; bright, blue, and breathtakingly beautiful. he scoffed at himself, he couldn’t believe he had caught himself gawking at the moon, its light casting shadows that danced around his room with the swishing curtains.

he just wanted to see you once more.

not mangled and broken, bleeding out beside him outside the walls, but with that familiar smile of yours that shone brighter than the stars, the sun, and held warmth that levi craved so badly.

the thought lingered for a second as he continued to gaze at the moon before he shook his head, how foolish of me, to think he would be able to see you again. his fingers traced the windowsill as he stayed deep in thought, maybe in another life, he mused before pulling out a book hange gave him from one of the drawers on his desk, lighting a lamp and beginning to read where he had previously left off…

“then i defy you, stars!”

levi didn’t know how he ended up in this position.

having fought over a dozen of titans, most abnormal, on his own after all of the cadets he had taken with him died, it wasn’t a surprise that he couldn’t avoid the quick swing of the titan on his left as he tried to dig his last pair of blades, now dull, into another titan’s nape.

he would’ve gotten up, could’ve gotten up, but he had sustained severe injuries earlier from trying to save the other cadets as well as save himself.

this was bad, really bad,

or maybe it wasn’t.

levi didn’t have the choice to decide, his limbs numb from the abuse and gaze hazy as he eyed the titan’s unusual gait, its figure stomping closer and closer. a heavy breath pushed past his lips as he used the last of his adrenaline rush to hook his odm gear into a nearby tree, swinging up onto a high branch and propping himself against it.

he wheezed, oxygen exiting his lungs and leaving him completely and utterly breathless from the exertion, but he figured that if he was up here, he at least wouldn’t die from the jaws of those horrid beasts and by this antagonizing blood loss instead.

blood seeped out from his wounds slowly and dyed his tattered uniform red, and with the silence and his vision fading in and out, he found himself thinking back to just a few months prior, his gaze latched onto the moon that peeked through the trees.

he wondered if he’d look like how you did that day, lifeless, cold, empty, soulless. he hoped your death wasn’t as painful as this, because no matter how numb the winter that nipped at his skin made him feel, there was still the hot searing pain spreading from the gaping wound on his side.

did you go through this much pain? did you suffer?

if it weren’t from the injuries, was it from his ignorance and blatant refusal to spare just a glance at you before you passed?

death was never a scary thing to levi, at least, not his own. he imagined times where it might’ve been better to just end it all. less suffering, less pain, no more losing loved ones. he hoped you felt the same when you died, that you left without regrets after your whispered-out words of confession.

once more,

he laughed, though it sounded more like a gurgle with all the blood pushing past his lips with every slowing rise and fall of his chest. he guessed it was about time his wish came true.

and then everything went black, and levi was swallowed up by oh-so-sweet embrace of the afterlife.

“levi?” a familiar voice called out in both confusion and surprise. “i wasn’t expecting you here this soon,”

he opened his eyes faster than he should’ve, immediately squinting at how bright it was, wherever he was. he wasn’t on a tree branch bleeding out anymore, instead, he was laying on soil, the dirt soft under his fingertips. the sky was bright and blue, a contrast to the dark sky of night that was only lit by the lonesome moon a second ago.

and most importantly, there was erwin, commander erwin, crouching down by his side with a look of mirth. levi’s gaze flickered around the area, eyeing cadets he remembered from years ago up and about, laughing and conversing with one another.

what is this, some type of heaven? he doubted that was what this was with all the death he had brought upon humanity, but he was sure this was some type of afterlife. erwin let out a soft chuckle at levi’s bewildered glare that demanded answers to silent questions.

“i know you have inquiries, but it’d be best to save them for later. i’m sure there’s people who’d like to see you first,” he stood to his feet and reached out a hand toward the other, him hesitantly grabbing onto it and pulling himself up from the ground. levi let himself be led to a circle of people chatting amongst themselves with bright smiles.

they welcomed him with open arms, poking fun at his arrival and calling him, “a newbie to the afterlife,” with his rapid fire questioning and quick glances around the open field.

“you’re looking for them, aren’t you, captain?” a former scout called out and teased.

levi couldn’t deny the obviously true accusation, scowling and crossing his arms as a defense mechanism, “zip it, cadet. afterlife or not, i can still beat your ass,” a few giggles and laughs erupted from the group while some sheepishly tried to cover them up with coughs and clearing their throats.

it was true, he was looking for you. he had hoped you would’ve been the first person he saw, but you were nowhere to be found. an anxious feeling gnawed at him and thoughts filled with doubt swirled in his chest.

did you not want to see him?

you probably didn’t, especially after what he had done.

“the moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”

the words stained his conscience red.

“i'm leaving,” levi turned on his heels and began walking without waiting for a response. erwin rose a brow at his murmur but nodded nonetheless, bidding him goodbye.

the skies were so blue, littered with white clouds that levi felt he could touch if he so wished to with just a raise of his hand. there was no sun, surprisingly enough

with how bright the afterlife was, and he was thankful for this. no sun meant no heat, no hot days that needed to be fought through or sweaty palms and heavily drawn breaths.

however, no sun meant no moon.

it was strange to not have nighttime anymore, no more stars to gaze at as he thought to himself and let those thoughts consume him. did they sleep? levi swept the area with his eyes and didn’t see a single room or bed. he wasn’t going to get used to this anytime soon, though he was thankful for how he strangely felt energized, or at least not drained from his insomnia like he usually was.

nevermind that, levi shook his head before scanning the area once more, where were you? he felt like his feet had been bringing him in circles—had he seen that cadet already? had this person already greeted him?—perhaps he was just lost at this point, in a crowd of people he knew or never seen before, but out of everyone there, there wasn’t a single sign of you.

he noticeably slumped, maybe he’d never see you again like he had prepared himself for. he didn’t deserve it after all.

but oh, did he miss you.

levi squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment and sighed, a furrow in his brow as he tried to settle the sudden drop of disappointment that settled in his stomach.

he just wanted to see you once more.

“levi!”

the man nearly tripped over his own feet at the voice that called for him. levi felt his heart soar, his skin buzz in anxiety, anticipation, hope.

he turns and—

it’s you.

you were running toward him from across the field filled with numerous scouts, weaving through the bustling crowd with that grin of yours, and your eyes, his light, twinkling so brightly at him.

you were coming closer and closer, and if levi just reached his arm out he could—

wait, his arm froze midair, his foot catching on the ground as he paused before your open arms.

he was scared.

in your last moments, he had completely ignored you, had watched you leave the world as you confessed your love with your last dying breath. maybe you wouldn’t want to see him, to hear his pathetic excuses and apologies, but alas, you proved him wrong, surging forward in the second of hesitation and wrapping your arms tightly around his neck.

levi tensed up, his arms hovering in the air like an idiot before he heard you murmur, “just relax, levi,”

and with those few words, levi felt every single tension in his body leave within seconds, his hands coming up to grip onto the back of your shirt as if begging you not to leave him, again.

though the whole situation felt so surreal, and he felt if he didn’t hug you tight enough, you’d slip through his fingertips, never to be seen again.

you were real, levi came to this revelation when he buried his face into the junction between your neck and shoulder, your heartbeat thumping as wildly as his as the two of you embraced.

“hi again, levi,” you brushed a hand through his ebony black hair with a breathless laugh.

“hello, my light,” levi whispered softly, sending a tickling breath to your neck, though he was pretty sure you heard if the little squeeze you gave around his shoulders were any indicator. you pulled away to rest your forehead against his, his eyes twinkling with such adoration, god, it was like you could see the stars.

“you know...” he murmured, his eyes closing and hiding their galaxies. levi felt his heartbeat pick up, and his hands trembled as they squeezed at your waist.

you were patient, tracing soothing patterns into his nape as you tugged him just a little closer, your lips brushing against his ever so slightly and sending a sweet chill down his spine. he almost became distracted from his original goal, his lips mindlessly chasing yours but stopping at the little tug you gave his head of hair. “go on, levi,”

god, had he missed the way you said his name. it sounded so perfect, and with your soft encouragement, levi drew in another shaky breath, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours. “the moon was always beautiful,”

explanations:

“i defy you, stars!”

this is a quote from shakespeare’s “romeo and juliet” !!! i interpret it as levi going against fate to be with you again :>

“the moon was always beautiful,”

this is a connection to “miles apart.” he’s basically saying that he has always loved you :D

[lovelytarou]

kiss me thru the phone — bakugo katsuki

— katsuki always calls you on the phone, making sure that it's his voice you hear when you wake and the one you'll listen to as you fall asleep.

pairing: bakugo katsuki x reader

tags: established relationship, swearing? cuz this is bakugo hehe. not proofread!!

genre: fluff, kinda angst

word count: 1.4k

a/n: 1/7 of the 200 follower event, i can just see him doing this lmao. sorry if the header doesn't look good, i tried my best (˘･_･˘) not at me saying i'll upload this yesterday night but it's already 2am here. it is what it is.

bakugo katsuki is a busy man. 

even when he was in his UA days, you always see him training by himself and excusing himself early to go study and then eventually, sleep. his friends often tease him for being a grandpa and not having time to go and have fun, but when he met you that's when he really started to let himself free and experience fun things with his friends albeit he's masking it as having “no choice but to join” under the guise of watching over his friends as to not make themselves look like idiots, but you know better. you know that when he says he doesn't care, you understand the meaning that he actually does. and deeply too.

he's just a big tsundere who cares a lot for the people he loves. 

now that he's a pro hero working his way up to the top, hectic times and cancelled dates cannot be helped. he has to always excuse himself and apologize over and over for not going to the date you both planned as promised and you always have to say that it's alright, that you understand over and over. and if anyone knew bakugo, it's that he would never settle for less. a simple ‘okay’ isn't enough for him. 

so when you woke up one morning to the ringing of your phone and the rare photo of your lover smiling instead of your cacophonous alarm, you knew it had to be one of those days where bakugo was feeling particularly soft for you.

rolling over on his side of the bed, you answered the call with a smile on your face despite him not seeing it. the warm streaks of sunlight coming through the windows illuminated your face, making you shut your eyes for a moment.

“hi, baby.” you croaked, voice scratchy and raspy upon waking.

you heard his chuckle on the other end before he greeted you as well.

“good morning, sleepyhead. it's 10am already, you should be getting your ass out of bed,” he scolded you. you rolled your eyes as you lied on your back, staring up at the ceiling while you twirled a piece of your hair like a lovestruck schoolgirl talking to your crush. 

“i know, i know. but the bed's still warm and i wanna stay in bed for a bit.” you whined, even pouting for effect that you knew he wouldn't resist. 

you heard him click his tongue in annoyance at your statement. knowing him, he's probably shaking his head in disapproval at your lazy behavior. 

“get the fuck out of bed or else your breakfast will get cold. you don't want to eat cold food, do you?" 

“wait, you made me breakfast?” you felt your stomach do flips at the thought of bakugo waking up early and even having the time and effort to cook for you. 

you heard him scoff at that, “course i did. i know your dumbass will complain about how i didn't cook you anything before i left if i didn't. so eat up, okay? i know i'm not always at home to eat with you and this is the only thing i can do to make you feel that you're not alone. and i'm sorry about that. i promise one of these days, i'll take you out for dinner, alright?” 

he can only hear sniffles and soft sobs on the other end as you nodded. 

“oi, are you crying?!”

“yes! why the hell are you so sweet? and it's too early for me to be crying like this!” you wailed, tears streaming down your face like a waterfall, trying your best to wipe them away with your night shirt. 

“i'd like that very much. you're the best, katsuki. take care and good luck at work!” 

“i know i am, babe. take care as well, don't wait up for me tonight, i'll call you.” you both bid your goodbyes with words of love before he hung up to do his hero work and for you to get ready for the day. you ate your breakfast with a smile on your face and heart feeling much fuller than your stomach with the thought of katsuki.

some days, when he's away on a mission, he'd love to call you randomly and he wouldn't even care if you're doing something or if you're busy. what he knows is that he needs to hear your voice more than anything. 

on a particularly busy and dreadful day, bakugo had called you during work and you picked it up without second thoughts, worry already clouding your mind. 

“tsuki baby!” you greeted in a joyful tone. your smile evaporated when he didn't return the sentiment.

“katsuki? are you okay? what's up, baby?” you tried to make your voice as soothing as possible, knowing that any other unwelcoming approach might set him off.

he sighed on the other end, and you can only guess what happened.

“i'm fine...just...i missed your voice,” his own had a low timbre to it, sort of a deep vulnerable tone he only let you hear when he wanted you to see his true self without the facades and the mask. 

“i'm here now, katsuki. do you wanna talk?” being a pro hero can be stressful as much as he loves it. he's also human, and he can only handle as much when faced with a lot of obstacles in life.

“yeah, that'd be nice. tell me about your day, how are you?” he might be diverting the topic towards you instead but you indulged him in his request and started to tell him about your day – from the time you wake up to the time you arrived to work.

“oh! and um, i also bumped into my old friend a while ago. they asked me about you and i told them that we should meet up someday, you know, like a double date?” 

“sure, yeah. i'd love to meet them. they seem like a cool person.” 

“they are! anyway, what about you? anything happened in there on the mission?” you waited patiently for his response which he appreciated a whole lot than what you realize. 

“it was okay. the mission was going smoothly with everyone helping and then...i just, we rescued this man and his...wife got–” he faltered, you heard him choke a sob through the phone and you can only wish you can hold him right at that moment if you weren't only miles away from each other. 

“it's okay if you don't wanna continue, tsuki. i understand this is heavy for you. i'm sorry you have to suffer through that alone. i wish i can be there for you,” in your head, you're imagining that you're comforting him and kissing his worries away as he's nuzzling into your neck. and you'd tell him that everything will be alright and that you'll always be there for him.

“i'm sorry...thank you, for staying with me and being in my life. i wouldn't know what i'd do without you, honestly. maybe be the same asshole that i was before we met,” he joked, chuckling at the fond memory that felt like ages ago today. 

“no worries, babe. you know i'm always here if you want to talk. i'll listen and you can never talk my ear off because i love listening to you sexy voice.” you teased, knowing it would make him as red as a tomato. the both of you laughed and it felt like you're together, probably at home as you lounged in the living room without worrying about anything.

“whatever. i like hearing your voice too, i guess. anyway, i gotta go in a few minutes. i'm calling again later before you sleep, make sure you don't doze off on me!” you can practically imagine the smoke coming out of his ears as he yelled at his phone.

“yes, yes, i will. i already told you i'm sorry! go kick some villain ass in there, baby. i'll be waiting for you back home.” 

“good. goodbye, i miss you. stay safe and always lock your door and the windows! don't stay up too late or i'll swim there to make you sleep myself–”

before he went on a tangent about his usual scoldings you told him that you still had work to do and he can save them for later, but you felt warm inside knowing this is how he tells you he loves you without really saying them. time and distance may keep you away from each other, but your love can travel through great distances and defy all odds. 

Taglist: @chibishae34

[bill-y]

𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐄

Peeta Mellark x male reader

[ We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family. ]

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part three: Click this, Rumtumtugger.

Part four: you're here, jennyanydots

Part five: Clicky dicky here, buddy

Wattpad account: L0calxDumbass

Those words left my mouth without much thought. I wasn't thinking of the damned consequences at the moment.

Behind me was Kunal, an iron grip on my leg, bawling his eyes out. "Y/N! NO! NO! YOU CAN'T GO!" he pleaded, his cries getting louder by the second. 

My hand ruffled his strawberry blonde hair, messing it up. "Let go, Nal," I said in the calmest tone I could muster. He shook his head, tears running down his cheeks, I cleared my dry throat, gulping down nothing. My mouth was dry as if I just ate a handful of salt, which was honestly a luxury.

My face remained stoic, the moment I show a sign of distress I know the people in the Capitol would eat it up like good bread. It entertains them, our suffering entertains them. 

His hands slipped from my leg, gripping on my pants before he was finally taken away from me. "Up you go, Owl eyes," said Gale, his voice trying hard to remain steady. Beside him was Katniss, who was holding Kunal by the shoulders. She nodded, "Good luck, Y/n,"

I nodded, before looking back at the temporary stage. "Oh well, Bravo!" Effie exclaimed. "That's the spirit of the games!"

She was thrilled, finally seeing some action from this district. It made a pit in my stomach, I clenched my jaw. If only the roles were reversed, Capitol people fighting for their lives instead of us.

Oh, how funny that would be.

I strode to the stage, trying my best to look collected. The foreboding feeling in my stomach only grew with each step I took, my hands sweating as if they've just been dipped into water once I finally took my place.

"Do tell us your name," Effie said, her grin widening as she nodded, encouraging me to talk. It took all the will power I had to not strangle her.

"Y/n Greyback," I replied dryly, hoping it would set her off.

“I bet my buttons that was your brother. Don’t want him to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let’s give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!” she trilled, making me clench my fists.

Her words were met with silence. No one clapped, not a noise can be heard. Even the ones who would usually bet on who would wound up as a tribute didn't do anything.

I held back a smile, a surge of hope flowing through me. This was the most rebellious thing they could do without getting punishment of any sort. Silence.

Silence doesn't mean fear or that we're cowards. It meant that we do not accept this, we do not condone.

Just as my father always said, one does not need to shout to make a change.

The next thing that happened was even more of a surprise. Maybe it was because I was a son of a "rebel", maybe they pitied my family or maybe it was because I talked to the mayor's daughter.

Just one, then two, then a group almost all of the crowd put the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and held it out to me. It is an old and rarely used gesture of our district, occasionally seen at funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means good-bye to someone you love.

My tense hands relaxed a sense of calm washing over me. We were united in a strange way, something I thought would only happen in my dreams.

"Look at him! Look at this one!" Hollered Haymitch, throwing an arm around my shoulder. His arm was quite heavy, understandable, he's a wreck. "I like him!"

The scent of alcohol from his breath was strong, or maybe he just smelled of alcohol. "Lots of. . ." He paused, trying to think of a word.

I cringed as he slightly swayed around, trying my best to not touch him. "Spunk!" he declared triumphantly. "More than you!"

He released me, staggering to the front of the stage. "More than you!" He declared once more, pointing towards the camera.

Was he talking to the audience? Or maybe he was addressing the Capitol. I wish it's the latter, that would be funny.

Just as he opened his mouth to continue, he fell down the stage, knocking himself unconscious in the process. I snickered slightly, my face scrunching up right after.

Thankfully, the cameras were all pointed towards him, watching as they whisked him away into a stretcher. I took this moment to glare back into the distance, watching the scenery.

There was the hill that me, Katniss and Gale were just at. It looked so peaceful, contrary to my day.

"What an exciting day!" Effie warbled, trying to fix her tilted wig. It looked ridiculous. Why would Capitol people, no, why would anyone wear that?

It looks ugly, like a beaten up squirrel. Though I'd be lying if I said it wasn't eye-catching, though, beaten up squirrels are also eye-catching. “But more excitement to come! It’s time to choose our next tribute!” she continued, putting one hand to the second bowl.

Her fingertips grab the first slip it encounters. I hoped it wasn't Gale or Katniss. I didn't want to kill them, not that I'd ever stand a chance.

Katniss was extremely skilled with the bow, she could probably shoot my head from miles away. Gale, on the other hand, was strong, compared to him, I had the strength of a broken twig.

"Peeta Mellark," She read. Oh no. Why him? Of all the people in this district. His father just "introduced" me to him this morning, not just that, I knew him.

I watched him make his way up the stage, I had a clear look at him this time. He had a stocky build, medium height,  ashy blonde hair that falls in waves over his forehead. The shock of the situation registered on his face, though you could tell that he was alarmed by the way his blue eyes looked.

Like a prey knowing it'd be hunted.

Despite this, he still manages to climb up the small flight of stairs calmly.

Effie Trinket then asked for volunteers, but no one spoke up. He has two older brothers, I've seen them. But one is probably too old to volunteer, and the other just wouldn't. This was standard family devotion, what I'd done was a radical thing.

The mayor began to say the same old words he always says every reaping day. I couldn't help but think, why him?

I remember it all too well, that day, it was raining up a storm, the wind was howling. My mother and my brother were left at home, I was tasked to find food for us since my mother couldn't bear to show her face to the district.

How could she? Her husband has been executed for rebellion against the Capitol. One of the peacekeepers found weapons under his possession and he was killed. He managed to convince them to spare us, though sometimes I wished it hadn't worked.

Within a week of his death, we began to lose money, and therefore, food. Nobody wanted to help us, nobody wanted to associate with the family of a tyrant.

Shame, the family name bared shame. My mother didn't have the gall to go out and sell any of my father's things, my brother was too young to even understand what was going on.

I was angry. How could they have just taken everything away from us that easy? Who gave them the right to do that?

But at that moment, I couldn't afford to sit still and wallow in my resentment. That was a luxury I couldn't afford. not many could afford it either.

Starvation was a fairly common thing in district 12, though the amount of covering up the peacekeepers do no one a favour and fools no one.

There I was, a boy who wasn't even old enough to be registered into the pile walking around in the harsh weather, stripped away from my dignity and whatever money we had.

I found myself in the Mellark's bakery, being told off by the baker's wife, who was tired of having brats from the Seam paw through her trash. I would've screamed back then, but I didn't want the Peacekeepers called on me.

So I left without another word, sitting at a tree for some sort of cover from the harsh rain.  I remember the snorts of the pigs beside me, and that was when I realized I'm no better than cattle; the people of Panim were no better than cattle.

My knees buckles as I collapsed onto the wet grass, shuddering from the cold and the harsh reality. Maybe I had gone insane then, but I vaguely remember talking to the pigs, ranting to them.

They didn't listen, they were too busy rolling in the mud. Looking back, I find this extremely funny, but maybe that's because I don't want to pity myself.

I didn't even notice a boy until the pigs actually rose to eat the pieces of bread thrown at them. I stared at him for a long while, mainly because of the burnt bread, the crust was scorched black.

But a red mark on his cheekbone caught my attention. Had they hit him for burning the bread? My parents have never hit me, I couldn't even imagine what that would feel like.

He took one look at the bakery as if checking if the coast was clear before he turned back to the pigs. Though instead of feeding the pigs he tossed the loaves of bread to me.

I watched him walk towards the bakery and closing the kitchen door tightly behind him. All I could do was stay silent, before shoving them up to my shirt, muttering a broken thank you as I ran home.

The loaves had cooled by the time I got home, but that didn't matter. We had something to eat. Mother looked at me, relieved I didn't die. She hugged me, apologizing.

I didn't care though, we had food, that's what's important.

And for the first time in weeks, we had a proper meal.

I was thankful, the fact that he'd probably burnt the bread on purpose never occurred to me until I crawled onto the bed, staring at the wooden ceiling. An act of kindness, someone still cared.

It was as if spring came overnight, fluffy clouds, blue sky, the warm sweet air. At school, we would always catch each other's gazes. I felt a tad bit bad, his cheek was swollen and his eye had blackened.

I couldn't come up to say thank you, instead, I watched him from a distance, contemplating whether I should. When I went to fetch Nal, out eyes met once more, I was about to mouth a thank you until Nal tugged my shirt.

He handed me a dandelion. He's always loved flowers. His love for it made me realize how I would get the food we needed. All that time I and my father spent in the forest won't be for nothing.

To this day, I still feel as if I owe my family's life to him. I had honestly given up, but he gave me something. Peeta Mellark, the boy who gave me bread and the dandelion, both gave me hope.

Maybe if I had said thank you all those years ago I wouldn't be feeling so guilty now. I could always say it but something about thanking him whilst I'm practically holding a knife against his throat seems dishonest.

The mayor finished his speech, telling us to shake hands. His were as warm and firm as those loaves of bread. He squeezed me as if reassuring me. Or maybe those were just nervous spasms.

We turn back to the crowd as the anthem of Panem plays.

There are twenty-four of us fighting in that arena, as grim as it is, let's just hope someone kills him before I'm forced to. I don't wanna kill the reason I've survived all those years.

Word count: 2026

Tags:

@nin3s

Sorry for the late update my exams are next week and im rushing to finish my requirements at school. :"

[brothermouse]

I'm just thinking about the first Christmas.

Mary feels a new blister forming and curses under her breath, so quiet Joseph can't hear. She fought too hard to come along on this trip to let him see an ounce of regret. She didn't have to come. Any sane person would tell her to just stay home, especially with how far along the pregnancy was. But she would walk hot, dusty roads and be covered head to toe with blisters for the rest of her life it it meant she didn't have to put up with the other women in the village.

They always seemed ready with some sharp catty comment, some new way to say the obvious without saying the obvious. She had been pregnant longer than she had been married, and everyone knew it. They would excitedly mention how big she was getting, almost as if they knew that she felt like an overstuffed cow. They would causally ask when she was expecting and then ask to be reminded when her wedding was, smugly implying that they had already done the math. It might have been better if they just came out and called her a slut. At least then she could yell at them. Then she could fight back. Then she could run crying into the strong, protective arms of her husband and he'd hold her and tell her that both she and he know the truth, and that's all that matters.

But even Joseph was different. Before all of this, he had been kind, loving, maybe a little clueless and awkward, but she found that part of him cute. But now? Now he seemed cold and distant. He didn't touch her anymore. No hugs and kisses like other newlyweds. He barely held her hand as her ever bulging self waddled about the house. He seemed almost afraid of her, like she was made of fragile glass or was some wild animal, ready to bite his hand off if he got too close. To be fair, some days she did feel like a strange beast, but her wild wrath was always meant for the town gossips. Towards Joseph she only felt sadness and grief for the kind man who seemed to vanish overnight.

Joseph, for his part, wasn't afraid of Mary. He was afraid of that thing growing inside of her. That Messiah. 'What even is a Messiah?' he would ask himself, 'What would it even look like?' Question after question after question filled his head and choked his tongue. Would the Messiah pop out, fully formed and armed for battle, before riding to Rome to behead Caesar, slaughtering heathens and gentiles along the way? Would it be like a rabbi, and call him and his wife to repentance for some yet unknown slight against God? Why does a Messiah need a father?  Does a Messiah need a father? Doubts filled him and crippled him.

He would steal glances at Mary. She was sweaty and dirty and a little angry-looking. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He wanted to grab her, lift the small delightfully plumped woman over his head and tell her all the ways she made him feel. But what if that broke the rules? What if his own uncleanliness some how befouled her? She was a holy vessel, like the Ark of the Covenant, and he was just...Joseph, the guy who cut wood.

Even without the angels and prophesies, Joseph would have felt unsure. Technically he was a grown man. He had lived the appropriate number of years, gone through the right ceremonies, done everything that everyone says make you a man. But still, whenever he saw those broad-chested, thick bearded men who seemed to have all the answers he saw he gap between himself and them. Real men had the answers. Real men knew what to do when their children were born. Real men could manage to say more than three words to their own wives.

Late in the day they arrive in town. Joseph curses himself. He should have known the trip would take longer with Mary. He should have planned ahead. Mary quietly curses again. Seems the baby didn't like all that walking and is kicking her kidneys in rebellion. She looks at Joseph, hoping he can see her pain, hoping he'll at least acknowledge it.

“I'll find an inn. ” He mumbles to her, knowing that a real man would have scooped her up in thick, strong arms and said “Not to worry, my radiant jewel! I'll have a roof over your head before the stars can grow jealous of your beauty!”

The sun dips below the hills and still no inn. Joseph wants to tell his wife that he's sorry. That she deserves better. That she deserves a real man by her side. One who would wrap her up in the finest silks and build a grand palace around her, wherever she wishes. But the most he can manage is rushing to the next inn, and hoping there's room for two.

Mary is growing concerned. What started as the baby rebellion has turned into all out war. Why didn't she just stay home? Why did she want so badly to spend time with a husband who seemed more concerned with chatting with unhelpful innkeepers than his own suffering wife? If she wanted to have a baby and be ignored by Joseph, she could have done that at home! At least at home she had her cousin Elizabeth to talk to. The contractions were getting closer now. Elizabeth had warned her about this. It was only a matter of time before the baby arrived.

As soon as Joseph wandered in arm's reach Mary snatched his robe.

“It's coming.” she says through gritted teeth.

“What is?”

“The baby!” Mary grunts.

Joseph turns pale. A thousand new questions and doubts fill his mind. “Where-”

“Anywhere!” Mary hisses through the pain. “An ally, a hut, a stable! Anywhere that isn't here!”

They enter a stable, a stubborn cow is woken up and moved to make room. Joseph feels remarkably out of his depth. He always though that when this day came, Elizabeth would be there to handle things and he would help by looking after little baby John. Only a few months old, John was a funny kid with an unparalleled knack for getting bugs in his mouth. Joseph liked John. Would a Messiah eat bugs? Joseph shakes his head back to the present. In a panic he asks Mary what he should do.

Mary meets Joseph's eyes. They are big and brown and filled with concern. They are the eyes of the man she loves. She wants to bask in the warm, manly kindness of those eyes forever, but another contraction cruelly pulls her away.

“Water!” she grunts, remembering what she can from Elizabeth's occasional words of advice, “and cloth!”

Joseph scrambles for the needed materials, but the pained screams of his wife tear at his soul. A real man wouldn't need to scramble for scraps with his wife in pain. In his heart he cries to God. He begs for an answer, just one answer to any one of his endless questions.

Mary lies on a pile of hay, eyes filled with tears, body filled with pain, and heart filled with loneliness. So few people could understand the pain of her soul, and the one person who she wanted most to understand, the one person who was physically closest to her was worlds away. She prays between agonized gasps for relief.

Mary screams to high heaven and Joseph's heart shatters. He can't do anything for her. She deserves so much more than he can give, and he can't even bring himself to give her a competent hand.

“I'm sorry” he gasps. And he runs out of the stable into the street. He shouts and screams and cries for help. A city of strangers huddles in their beds and ignores him. He spies a group of men. Desperate, he rushes upon them, grabs their woolly, sheepskin robes and begs them to help. Through childish tears and snot and sobs he explains his predicament.

One of the younger men huffs. He says they have something important to do tonight. One of the oldest men waves a hand and his young companion and claps an arm around Joseph. “We're used to delivering lambs,” he says, patting Joseph on the back, “But I think we can manage a child, just for tonight.”

In the stable, Mary clutches her belly. She's been abandoned. Her only companion now is an irate cow glaring at her from the the corner. Another contraction comes and she clenches her eyes. Suddenly something grabs her hand. She slaps it away, thinking it's the cow, getting impatient. It gabs her hand again. She opens her eyes and sees Joseph. His big, kind, brown eyes filled with tears. She squeezes his hand back. Suddenly she is surrounded by a small army of strangers.

“They're here to help.” Joseph says.

And they do help. With practiced precision each one fills a task. Water is fetched, clean cloth is produced. Shortly a tiny, pink, screaming baby is introduced into the stable. The cow wanders out, giving up getting sleep in this stable on this night.

The strangers hand the baby to Mary. She is tired. She feels like she's been stretched out a mile. She looks at the baby, wondering if she had been screaming this loud a moment ago. She's about to fall asleep. She shakes off the exhaustion and remembers something Elizabeth told her. Wrap the baby up tightly as soon as you can, so he can grow up nice and tall. She tries to calm the baby while fishing for spare cloth.

Meanwhile the strangers are beginning to leave, but Joseph delays them. He wants them to teach him. He wants to know how to be a man, a father, a husband. He stumbles over his words, trying to get the question right. The strangers are insistent, though. They have something important to do tonight.

Mary has finally got the baby wrapped up, and that seems to have calmed him. Exhaustion is pulling at her eyelids like iron weights. The baby needs a place to sleep. A nearby manger has relatively clean hay. She puts her baby there and lies back for her own long sleep.

Joseph is stumbling over his words as the strangers grow more insistent that they have to leave. Suddenly one of the younger men begins to tremble. He tugs at his elder's robes and points to a corner of the stable. The older man looks at the manger and the babe, wrapped in swaddling clothes, and begins to weep. The rest of the strangers follow suit, some weeping, some praying, some just standing and staring in awe. Joseph manages to eek out one more question, “What's wrong?”

The oldest man wipes the tears from his eyes and answers, “Absolutely nothing is wrong. It's just...well...” he scratches his bald head, looking for the words. “Earlier... when we were watching the sheep...there was this...angel.”

Instantly Mary snaps awake, all fatigue dispersing at that one word. “Angel?”

“Yes ma'am.” the old shepherd says sheepishly, “an angel, and-”

“I've seen one, too.” Mary says. “They're incredible!”

“And terrifying.” adds Joseph.

“And beautiful!” the Shepherd

The strange group spends the next few hours trading stories of their visions and the strange coincidences that brought them together.

While the shepherds and Mary are eagerly trying to explain the strange musical quality of an angel's voice the old Shepherd pulls Joseph aside. Joseph tries to ask twelve questions at once, but the shepherd stops him.

“She doesn't need you to have all the answers.” He tells Joseph, “She just needs you to be there.”

“But, how am I supposed to raise-”

“A day at a time. Children, sheep, men. Everything grows a day at a time.”

He gives Joseph a few more specific points of advice. And the begins to gather up his companions. He explains that the mother needs her rest, and they have sheep to feed. Slowly and reluctantly the shepherds are herded out.

Mary now feels more tired than ever. The baby begins to fuss. Joseph steps in and rocks his son.

He lies down next to Mary.

Haltingly, unsure, she moves towards him. His arm wraps around her and draws her in close. She rests her head on his chest and stares at her little baby boy. Her thoughts turn to the catty gossips of Nazareth. Without thinking she voices her fears, “What will they say when we come back home with a baby?”

Joseph squeezes her tighter, “Whatever they want. We know the truth. Besides, if it gets too bad, I'll bet we can get those shepherds to beat them up for us.”

Mary looks at Joseph, her tired mind trying to grasp what he just said. The joke dawns on her and she beings to laugh. Then as the emotional dam begins to burst the laughter turns to tears, and tears eventually fade into sleep. All the while Her husband holds her in his strong, protective arms.

And that's what I think the First Christmas was like; messy, loud, and full of people who had no idea what they were doing. So don’t feel bad if your Christmas is messy, loud and full of doubt. It puts you in good company.

[rainsongdean]

you’re always golden to me

post-mockingjay / pre-epilogue everlark healing together, appreciating the sunset, and maybe even falling in love

"We should head back before it gets dark." Peeta's words rang out in the open air between them, but they were not enough to pull Katniss from her trance-like state.

It had been a rough day. Not enough so to be classified as a bad day, seeing as Katniss had found the motivation to move from the bed to the couch at some point in the afternoon. Now, though, watching the clouds paint watercolors in the sky seemed to bring her back to life. She was encapsulated by the sight.

"Not yet," she eventually spoke, her voice somewhat hoarse from not using it for a while. "I want to stay until it's over. Besides, we could walk home blindfolded from here."

It was true. Katniss had discovered the hill nestled in the woods behind Victor's Village not long after returning from the Capitol. She found solace in being embraced by the wilderness rather than being suffocated in her old home, so when she accidentally stumbled upon the tall mount that overlooked the wide plains and open sky, she knew she had found what she had subconsciously been searching for.

It had taken a few months before she brought Peeta to her secret spot. He'd only returned to District 12 a few days before she had found the hill, and they both needed some time to warm up to each other again. But one day, after suffering through a particularly vivid flashback that ended with him handcuffed to one of Haymitch's spare cages for his geese, Katniss figured it would do them both good to escape into the forest for a while.

That was the first night they watched the sunset from the hill. It had been slightly uncomfortable, sitting inches apart on the dewy grass, no attempt at conversation made by either party. Eventually, Peeta suggested they return home to make dinner before it got too late, but Katniss insisted that she could tell by the shape of the clouds that they would put on an impressive show.

As usual, she was not wrong.

It was the most vibrant spectacle either of them had seen - far more breathtaking than any Capitol party or fireworks display. Sure, they had both watched the sun go down in 12 before, but their view had always been clouded by the thick layer of dust in the air from the mines or obstructed by the cluster of buildings stacked practically on top of one another. Here on their hill, nothing stood between them and the sky. Beyond that, the best part was they got to share it together, just the two of them. 

Since that night, the pair made an effort to hike the two-mile trek to the hill at least once a week, though they typically found themselves there more often than that. Katniss still liked to visit the spot alone, sometimes using the safe space to speak aloud to Prim or Finnick and imagine what they would say back. Other times she just enjoyed the silence.

Peeta, too, ventured to the hill a few times by himself. He had tried on several occasions to paint the landscape, and while he was able to perfect the morning glow and mid-afternoon sun, he couldn't capture the colors of nightfall that he most desired to paint.

Despite the significance that the holy ground held for each of them individually, neither one could deny that they preferred to visit the hill together. Katniss had been unofficially living with Peeta for weeks now, and they even shared a bed most nights, but there was a different breed of intimacy that came with being in the woods, nestled in their own little corner of the universe. 

"Fine," Peeta sighed contentedly, breaking the silence again. "We can stay as long as you'd like." With that, he leaned toward the picnic basket they had brought and reached in, shoving aside the empty containers that once held a selection of berries, cheeses, and breads to reveal a neatly folded fleece blanket he had stashed in the bottom. "I came prepared," he announced with a sense of pride.

Katniss briefly pulled her gaze from the view for the first time since the sun had begun its descent to offer Peeta a small smile of gratitude. The gesture warmed his heart with the blaze of ten thousand sunsets.

Taking care to wrap the soft cover around their legs, Peeta pulled the fabric up to their chests and then eased his back to the ground until he was laying horizontal on the hill. Katniss followed suit so they were both engulfed by the blanket.

Their new angle only served to better showcase the colors stretching endlessly above them. One hue in particular transported Katniss back to a seemingly ancient memory of the two of them.

"Orange. Muted... like a sunset." Katniss didn't break her eye contact with the sky but smirked to herself as she spoke.

Peeta nudged her shoulder playfully in response, easily picking up on what she was referring to. Their conversation on the train about favorite colors was one of the first to come back to him after he had been rescued from the Capitol. Shifting slightly toward Katniss, he reached out and twisted his finger gently around a stray strand of hair that had escaped from her braid. "You're so poetic when you quote me," he mused sarcastically.

"Well, your choice of favorite color is much more poetic than Effie’s choice of wig," she quipped. It was ironic how some of her and Peeta's best conversations had happened in the midst of some of the worst times of their lives. And yet, there they were: safe and relatively happy, just two kids trying to piece themselves back together with some pastel paints, cheese buns, and hidden hills. It may not have been anything profound, but it was living, and Katniss figured that, for time being, that would be enough.

She inhaled deeply, trying to absorb the moment. They had reached the peak of the sunset when every particle in the air seemed to glisten from the giant star's final attempt to remain on the topside of the world. There was only one word to describe it.

"Everything is golden."

And, for an instant, it was.

But as the sun succumbed to the pull of dusk, the raging reds and oranges that had scorched the sky swiftly turned to delicate pinks and purples, paving the way for the black of night.

It was then that Katniss realized Peeta had been uncharacteristically quiet, his sunset commentary usually being much more prolific than hers. When she turned her head to the left to face him, she found he was already staring back at her, still toying with her hair. His deep blue eyes twinkled like he knew a secret and was about to let her in on it.

When they first met, that kind of look from Peeta overwhelmed her. Sometimes Katniss would catch him staring at her like she carried the world in her hands, or spun threads of gold with her words. It puzzled her, annoyed her, and at times even enraged her. But after his hijacking, it had been so rare for that young, innocent Peeta to reappear and give her that look which spelled out his love for her so plainly on his face, and she had grown to cherish it.

"I change my mind." For the third time that night, Peeta's voice sliced open the veil of silence that covered them. 

Katniss abruptly rose to a sitting position, an expression of confusion clouding her face as she leaned over Peeta's resting form. "What do you mean?"

"I change my mind," He repeated calmly, shrugging as if the answer to her question was obvious. "The sunset isn't my favorite shade of orange anymore."

Katniss bit her lip and furrowed her eyebrows, causing the wrinkles on her forehead to deepen. Peeta could tell she was trying to keep herself from challenging him, so he decided not to torture her any longer.

"You are my favorite shade of orange," he reached his hand up to caress her cheek, easing away the signs of worry that had risen on her face. "You, sitting here with the sun reflecting in your eyes, your skin glowing in the light." He lowered his voice to a whisper and retracted his hand, slowly guiding Katniss's head to rest on his chest so she could hear his heart beating. "The way you make me feel like I'm on fire inside, all the time."

Girl on fire. The words echoed in his mind and, although he did not dare speak them, he internally admitted they rang true. And it was in moments like those, as he held her under the night sky with millions of stars blazing above them, that he saw Katniss burn the brightest.

"Oh, shut up," she exhaled, turning away from him in an attempt to conceal the blush that had overtaken her smiling face, but Peeta didn't have to see it to know it was there. "You're so cheesy."

"Hey now," he feigned a hurt expression, "I thought you liked my cheese."

Katniss couldn't hide her outburst at his nonsense and they both fell into a fit of laughter together. They hadn't spoken much about what exactly their relationship status was at the moment, hesitant to put labels on anything, but he still wanted her to know how he felt about her. And while Katniss had never been proficient in using her words to convey her love, the way that she clung to Peeta, burying her head in his arm while gasping to regain her breath from laughing so hard, told him everything he needed to know.

"Come on, we should really head back before Haymitch gets worried." Peeta attempted once again to persuade Katniss to return home after they had both calmed down. His stomach was beginning to growl - the small rations of their picnic earlier weren't nearly enough to tide over his appetite until morning - and now that the sun had set, he'd much rather snuggle up with Katniss on their couch than on the cold, hard ground. And besides, while he didn't really think their mentor would be waiting up for them, he figured the argument might be enough to persuade her.

"Seeing as it's past 3 p.m., I think it's safe to say that Haymitch is passed out on his couch," Katniss countered, but her actions said otherwise as she began to gather herself up off the ground. Peeta knew she had a soft spot for the old man.

It took them a little over half an hour to walk home, leisurely following the path that their own footprints had created over time. Upon entering the house, Peeta made a beeline to the kitchen to heat up some leftover stew from the night before. While he ate, Katniss headed to Haymitch's house, opening the unlocked door to find him asleep in his living room as she had predicted. She pried the half-empty bottle from the arm that hung off the couch and set it on a nearby table before turning the lights out and closing his front door behind her.

She had recently made a habit of checking in on her friend, especially during the weeks when Effie travelled back to the Capitol for work. She knew he had done the same for her countless times. Haymitch never seemed to question why he would sometimes wake up with a blanket draped over him or a pillow propped beneath his head, and Katniss didn't plan on bringing it up. Like most things between the two of them, it went unsaid.

Later that evening, tucked under the covers of Peeta's bed - their bed - Katniss felt more at ease than she did most nights. Maybe it was the serenity of the particularly striking sunset, or maybe it was Peeta's roundabout confession of the feelings he still had for her. Either way, she was pleasantly content. 

On the other side of the mattress, as Peeta danced on the cusp of sleep, his mind dragged him back to something Katniss had said on the hill. Everything is golden. He knew what she meant; that the landscape had been blanketed by the radiance of the sunset. But he felt it was true in another sense, and that maybe this new phrase was an even more appropriate way to describe the true essence of Katniss Everdeen.

Before drifting off herself, Katniss heard Peeta mumble one last line of admiration, causing her to fall asleep with a smile ingrained on her lips.

"You're always golden to me."

[mmilkbreadd]

Chapter twenty three: “Bokuto Hates Goodbyes”

Masterpost - Prev - Next.

Warning(s): post-timeskip manga spoilers!!

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“Tendou is going to quit volleyball after graduating. He wants to go to Paris to work as a chocolatier” you said, never taking your eyes off him. You sighed again, trying to find the words to tell him. Bokuto noticed your pause and smiled at you waiting for you to reply. “And I... I'm going with him.”

Koutarou's smile faded, along with the hope in his heart. 

Silence took over the atmosphere. You were trying to look at Bokuto, but he kept his gaze on the snowy ground. Neither of you had opened your mouths to say anything. Maybe because the correct words did not exist to express what you were feeling at that moment; you, remorse, and Bokuto didn't even know what to feel. Sadness, melancholy, happiness because you are going to fulfill your dream... fear of being forgotten. 

So many things to say, feel, live. 

“Why?” he asked, still with his gaze on the floor.

“Why…?”  you lashed several times. “Because I want to be a baker, fulfill my dream and my grandmother's... It's what I want, Kou.”

Koutarou started to shake his head from side to side, his hands over his hair. 

“Yes I know, but Paris?”  Bokuto looked at you for the first time, his eyes filling with tears. “That's like a million miles away!”

The snow kept falling on you two and the cold seemed to increase, but neither appeared to notice. The moment seemed eternal: Bokuto's tears that still did not come out, the imminent farewell, the silence that still continued ...

“We can continue to be friends, Koutarou, you shouldn't worry” the Owl turned to the opposite side of the school, and started walking away quickly. “Bokuto! Bokuto!” there was still no response on his part. “Koutarou, wait!”

Even though in his mind Bokuto had planned not to return, hearing his name come out of your mouth once more, he stopped short. He quickly turned to see you, your nose was red from the cold, and smoke came out every time you spoke when you apologized to him.”

“I don't want to be friends” shouted Bokuto looking straight into your eyes, with a tear rolling on his cheek. “I do not want you to go! W-we're just getting to know each other! It's not fair.”

Bokuto pouted while still staring at you. 

“We still have time, I won't be leaving for another month,” you said, but you knew it wasn't enough time. Not even a thousand years would be. “We'll talk on the phone!”

Promises that were very difficult to keep. Even if you wanted to, with the exams that would be shortly, and then in the cooking academy, it would be impossible to maintain much contact. You didn't know if you could even keep it with Emiko and Wakatoshi.

“Don't say things that later won't be true,” Bokuto said for the last time, wiping the tears that fell from his eyes. “Bye, y/n.”

And in a last act of desperation, you grabbed Koutarou by the wrist and then grabbed his coat tightly, then brought your lips together with his. 

After a few seconds, the light of a flash interrupted you.

“I'm sorry?” Emiko said with a nervous little smile. She had taken a picture of you kissing, and now she was slowly walking away so she could escape your creepy gaze. “I better go, haha. Byeee.”

Again the silence had taken over the environment. But this time, Bokuto's face was completely changed. His cheeks were flushed and he had a big smile on his lips.

“You like me too?” he asked suddenly. 

And even though you were speechless, you were able to whisper a little “yes”. Bokuto without warning held you with his arms, hugging you, and then started jumping up and down several times.

“Wait, we were fighting two minutes ago,” he said, making an angry face, but then his true colors showed and he started laughing. “Hey Hey hey! It no longer matters, we must take advantage of every second. Get ready, y/n, I'll come tomorrow at nine in the morning! Well maybe not that early, but I'll come before lunch!”

And here was another example where you could see the captain of Fukurodani change his mood quickly.

You said goodbye and you entered the academy again, thinking about how to assassinate Emiko. 

Tomorrow would be the last day you would see Bokuto in a long time.

And maybe forever. 

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Just as Koutarou had said the night before, at eleven in the morning he was at Shiratorizawa's gate, waiting for you to come out. It was not as early as he would have liked, but he had also arrived very late at the hotel, so he needed to sleep as well. Even though you were already walking towards the exit, two people arrived before you.

“Hello, Bokuto-san,” Tendou greeted. “Let's get straight to the point, what are your intentions with the little y/n? Ushijima and I are not very convinced that you go out with her so often. You were too late last night, and now it's too early. I hope you are not doing strange things out there. This is not Tokyo, my friend.”

“He is not your friend, Tendou” Ushijima said in a whisper, with his deep voice.

“I know, best friend, but I want to intimidate him” Satori whispered back, but he didn't realize that Bokuto had heard everything. 

In the distance, you came walking next to Emiko. You had already forgiven her for last night's photo, although she still hadn't deleted it from Twitter, and had even put it as your profile picture for a few hours until you noticed and took it out. You can tell that Tsukasa almost ran out of roommates. 

“Hey, aren't those Satori and Wakatoshi talking to your boyfriend?” She asked you, pointing to your friends and the one who wasn't your boyfriend really.

“I'm going to kill them.”

You sped up your pace to get there as quickly as possible and avoid disaster before it happens. But to your surprise, when you got to where the three of them were, all you could hear was laughter. Yes, even Ushijima.

“What is happening here?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at Satori, who you thought was responsible for this situation. And as always, you were right.

“Oh, nothing, y/n. Just old friends remembering old times” said Tendou with a rather forced laugh. Then, Ushijima and Bokuto also began to laugh out loud, while Koutarou made a danger signal with his eyes, and Emiko watched the situation in disbelief.

“I think Koutarou and I should go now” and before any of your friends could say anything, you grabbed him by the sleeve of his jacket and trotted off to Miyagi's main park.

Behind you, you could hear Tendou's screams calling for you to come back, but you ignored them and kept walking quickly in front of Bokuto.

Arriving at the park you could see several children with their parents playing in the snow, despite not having snowed today, there was still a little snow on the trees and grass.

“Thanks for saving me, things were getting ugly there,” he said as he took your hand that was on his sleeve, to be holding hands normally. “I have bad news.”

More bad news? You didn't think you were going to be able to endure another misfortune this weekend. It seems that Bokuto noticed your desperate face and squeezed your hand tightly to encourage you.

“They have suspended my bus for tomorrow, they say there will be a snowstorm in the afternoon so they have changed the schedule.” Nothing went right for tragic volleyball lovers. “I'm leaving tonight, so we can't see each other tomorrow.”

The world fell at your feet. How could everything go wrong for you? A lot of drama has existed lately.

“And now what?” you asked him.

“We live in the moment!” and without saying anything else, Bokuto started to run towards the ice skating rink, never letting go of your hand. 

The ice was full of small children, who watched Koutarou every time he made a few meters and fell letting out a scream. The kids laughed at the Owl's exaggeration, causing him to make it even more dramatic to obtain more laughter. Every time you fell, Bokuto would rush to get up and ask you if you were okay, even if you were laughing at yourself and had not suffered any injuries.

After skating for half an hour or so, you decided to go for lunch because it was already quite late. You went to the same cafeteria that you had gone to the day before, and you ordered something warm since today's temperature was even colder than yesterday’s. 

At the end of lunch, Bokuto asked you to show him around the city, although there was not much to show as it was quite small compared to Tokyo. You showed him where Karasuno High was, but you didn't go there since it was relatively far from where you were. He took several photos and sent them to Akaashi, and then to his mother. 

The hours passed quickly, reaching the time of curfew, which meant that you had to go back to school, and Bokuto to his hotel to find his bags and go to the station. Unfortunately, you could not accompany him before his bus leaves. 

“It's time to say goodbye,” you told him once at the entrance of the academy. "Thanks for coming to visit me, Kou.”

Before saying something to you, Bokuto put his arms around you. This time neither of you were crying, nor were sad. You were happy for the time you spent together.

“Goodbye, y/n, I'm going to miss you” and with a lot of bravery in his heart, Koutarou brought his lips to yours one last time. 

“I promise to call you.”

And so, Bokuto Koutarou said goodbye with a sad smile, knowing that that promise was nothing more than an empty promise.

And that at the end of all, it would not be kept. 

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A/N: I know Bokuto’s hair isn’t exactly accurate in the photo but it was the best image I could find😩😩 sorryy

Btw who wouldn’t leave everything behind to go to Paris with Tendou Satori? I wouldn’t even think about it, my bags are ready!

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[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Chapter Thirty-Four: The Revelation

Rated PG-13 For mentions of abuse, trigger topics such as suicidal thoughts, torture, language, and kidnaping.

Masterlist

~I am not the only traveler

And then I can tell myself

I had all and then most of you

When the night was full of terrors

There aren't very many things worse than watching one's little brother die. I think the only thing worse than that is enduring it twice. I had already had to watch Jasper be slaughtered like a pig in front of me. Wasn't that torture enough for a lifetime? Was having to salt and burn my own brother the universe's twisted idea of a joke? This wasn't funny!

What kind of cruel world was I living in? Why did my last words to my precious little brother have to be empty promises? How was that okay? Jasper would spend the rest of eternity waiting for me to show up, tell him my stories, and tuck him into bed, but I never would. Because if I lived, I would be stuck down here on this awful planet, reliving the same day over and over and over again. And if the Winchester's decided to kill me when they found out what I was, then I wouldn't be going to heaven. I already knew where I would go. It wasn't anywhere good.

Well, if my life was a joke then I hoped at least somebody was getting a kick out of it.

I knew I wasn't.

From the top of the stairs, I heard Sam, Dean, and Cas open the sliding glass door and shuffle outside. Jack firmly insisted on staying here. He probably thought he should stay in case I ' needed him ' for comfort or something.

'Well, joke's on you, puppy, cause I don't need anyone.' I thought, bitterly. I traveled down the dark hallway to my room, the one with the plain white door all the way down on the end. The door opened with a soft click and squeaky hinges and I kicked it shut behind me.

My room was exactly how I had left it. Not a single thing was out of place. Of course, it was about as far away from immaculate as anything can get. There were pieces of paper strewn all over the desk, plenty of wadded-up sketches in the trash can and even more outside the trash, pencils were left in strange places, and mix-matched fairy-lights draped over  way  too many things. Miscellaneous articles of clothing were draped over a chair, clustered around the laundry basket, crumpled on the bed, and a few were even hanging from the doorframe of the closet. The bed wasn't made, the blankets and sheets hopelessly tangled together and there was an atrocious number of glow-in-the-dark stars glued to the roof. Oh, and let us not forget the rainbow-colored streamers hanging from the ceiling fan, so really everything was just an absolute mess.

But it was a comforting mess and that's how that girl who used to be me had lived. She had been a scatterbrained, messy-haired, and bright-eyed sort of girl, she'd had so much potential. That girl could have great. Her mess comforted me too. Maybe she wasn't as dead as I'd thought.

"Well, I'm just about done with this whole damn popsicle-stand of existence. You?" Isaac asked, sounding more dead than he looked.

"Done," I agreed. "So, so done."

I flopped down on my already messy bed, staring up at the tacky stars on the ceiling while I tried to come to terms with the fact that I'd never see my little brother again. I couldn't feel the prickling of tears forming in my eyes. I guess I'd run all out of tears to cry. Lucky me. I felt like throwing up.

"Should we go down fighting or give up and roll over? What say you?" Isaac collapsed at the foot of my bed.

"What's the point in fighting?" I asked, shaking my head.

"Dunno." He shrugged. "Frequent flyer miles?"

"So... Nothing?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Maybe I would just attack the Winchesters once I tore Felix to sheds. Maybe they wouldn't kill me fast. Maybe they'd make me suffer. Then maybe I could cry like I was supposed to.

I had hardly been debating those thoughts for a minute when I heard footsteps pounding up the stairs. Oh, joy. Five minutes of peace was all I'd asked for and apparently I couldn't even get that. Screw my life.

The door flew open with an overly dramatic bang but I didn't flinch. Jack stood in the doorway, eyes alight like molten gold. I turned my head lazily to face him, aware of my void expression but ultimately indifferent to it. I couldn't even bring myself to act like the fake version of myself I had made to fool the Winchesters. I felt oddly numb like nothing mattered. Because honestly, what did? Not even getting my revenge on Felix would change anything. Things wouldn't get better, my life would still suck to an astronomical degree, and this whole stupid world would just keep turning like it always did. Getting revenge was just self-indulgence, really. So what if Jack saw the real me for a couple of hours?

With luck, I'd be dead by morning.

With luck, he'd be the one to kill me.

I deserved it.

"Welcome to the year Nineteen-Thirty, puppy. What do you want?" I addressed him. My tone was clipped, calloused, and cold, but I didn't care.

Jack's eyes were glowing and the air was charged with his power; it made my hair stand on end and my ears hurt like when a plane takes off. Yet, oddly enough, if there and been one in my hand, I would have been swirling chocolate milk in a wine glass for all I'd cared.

Jack didn't answer me. His mouth opened and closed and opened and closed. There was something in his eyes, something akin to desperation. He knew what he wanted to say but the words died in his throat.

"You deaf, honey-bug?" I lifted an eyebrow and took an actual glance at his expression. He didn't look angry. He looked...

Terrified.

And shocked.

And torn.

And betrayed.

I did this. It was me. I had hurt him.

His hands clutched an object tightly between them with enough force to turn his knuckles white. It was a picture frame. I caught a glimpse of the picture within; it had been taken two weeks to the day I'd died. I looked back up to his eyes.

Ah, yes. There it was. The recognition. What a clever, clever boy.

He'd finally put all the pieces together.

'Well, good for him.'

"Uh, oh spaghetti-oh's; looks like the Nephil knows," Isaac droned from the foot of my bed.

"What are you?" Jack asked, his voice trembling. He blinked back tears, biting down on his lower lip to keep it from trembling.

I blinked, feeling sick. I didn't want to lose him, I realized. As much as the bitterness inside me tempted me to bite into him and taste his sweet blood or tell him the truth and watch him squirm just for a distraction from the pain, I couldn't. Because then I'd lose him. I didn't want to lose him. I'd already lost Jazzy today for the second time, I couldn't lose Jack too.

Isaac turned to me, his expression as empty as mine. "Ya gonna tell him?"

"I am Miss. Nidsbit," I answered, flatly. It was supposed to sound friendly like I was teasing, but it only came off as evasive. Jack glared at me. It was already happening; I was already losing him. I guess I deserved that much.

"Don't joke," He said.

"I thought it was hilarious," Isaac chimed.

"In that case, I'm bottled-depression." I flashed my teeth in a way that held no joy whatsoever. "Pint-sized for your convenience," I added, trying for a familiar joke about my height. It sounded empty.

"That was better," My brother snickered, leaning back and closing his eyes. He was probably just going to keep making sarcastic jabs in an attempt to vent his anger, so I ignored him.

"I asked you a question," Jack growled in a way that somehow managed to be threatening despite the whole baby-face puppy-eyed thing he had going on. It was actually kinda hot... Wait, what? When had that happened?

"And I answered you." I sat up. Why did I sound so bitter? Why couldn't I change it? My eyes flicked down to Jack's throat without my permission. His skin looked so soft and I realized I was suddenly famished. My throat burned and desire reared its ugly head inside me. Isaac's voice snapped my attention back to reality.

"Oh dear, Marty. You made the Nephil sniffle."

Jack clenched his teeth and hissed, seemingly bothered by the fact that I wasn't afraid of him. He wouldn't hurt me, right? No, he would. He would hurt me if he knew. If he knew what I wanted to do to him. I wanted him to hold me as he had a few days ago but I wanted to sink my teeth into him at the same time. I deserved to die.

"What are you?" He repeated, taking a step forward. He would hurt me. Good.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I replied, my voice inflectionless. Wandering towards my dresser I started fiddling with some meaningless piece of junk. Anything for a distraction from his soft throat and thrumming pulse. Jack's glowing eyes followed me.

"Y-you're lying," He said. He was trying to sound strong, but there was something broken in his tone.

"Ya think?" I deadpanned. Jack swallowed thickly; his hand shot out to grab my wrist, eyes fading back to their soft blue.

"This isn't funny, Marty. Stop." His eyes pleaded with me. I eyed his hand.

"Or what?" I challenged. What would he do to me? He looked me in the eyes, frowning and moving closer to me. He needed to step away. I caught my gaze drifting to his neck again but I couldn't stop.

"I really don't want to hurt you," He said.

'Then don't make me tell you.' I thought. His eyes searched my face for any glimpse of his friend, but that girl had never been real, not really anyway. I had made her up.

I wished I could go back in time. Back to the night we met. We could do it all over again and maybe, if I had another chance, he wouldn't figure it out. Maybe it would've been better if I'd never come with Jack in the first place. I wished we could go back to the night we met. Then I could have said no. If I hadn't come with him, I never would have hurt Jack like this. If he had never touched me then I would never have had to feel this pain. If I could just go back.

"And you won't," I said, taking a chance.

Jack huffed, his expression pained.

"This is freakin' five-star entertainment," Isaac mused, resting his chin on his fist, observing Jack and me.

"Please, Marty," Jack begged in a whisper. His sweet-smelling breath was warm as it washed over my face. His eyes flicked down to my lips but only for a split second. No, no. Anything but that. "Just tell me the truth."

'You already know it.'

"I have," I lied. Everything kept coming out wrong! I sounded emotionless like I didn't care but I did! Jack's soft expression melted into one of betrayal.

"So, you're just going to lie?" He asked. "Right to my face?"

I didn't have control over what slipped from my lips next.

"Says the Devil's kid."

"Ooh! One point to the Marty!" Isaac laughed.

Jack stared at me like he was heartbroken. Then his eyes narrowed into a glare, lighting with gold as he released my wrist and moved his hand to seize my throat. He whirled us around and slammed me into a wall with more force than I'm sure than he intended to use. Not that I couldn't take it. Without so much as a flinch, I tilted my head as much as I could with Jack cutting off my air supply.

"Tell me what you are!" He shouted. There was desperation there.

"That's quite the grip ya got there, puppy," I taunted, rasping. He loosened his grip but only slightly, holding the picture of my family up for me to see, the corner was dated January 8th, 2014.

"You said they died five years ago. This picture- it was taken five years ago! You said you were nine then! But y-you - you weren't!" Jack's eyes were wide, almost crazed as he glanced from the girl in the picture and back to me. He knew the truth; he just didn't want to believe it. His voice softened. "You haven't aged a day. Five years and you haven't aged a day."

My voice was soft and it wasn't just from the lack of air. "I aged about a month, actually."

Jack let go of my throat like I was burning him, shaking his head as he backed away like a frightened animal. As well he should. He was the prey here and I did want to kill him. But I wanted him to hold me again even more. "Y-you're one of them..." He whispered.

'Don't leave me. I'm sorry, just don't leave me!' I thought desperately, but that wasn't what came out. I felt trapped in my own skin, the monster inside me taking over, fed by my own bitterness.

"I'd say something along the lines of 'say it out loud' but I'm pretty sure that would have copywrite issues," I said, shrugging and moving back to sit on my bed. Jack watched me carefully.

"Felix - h-he turned you. He made you just like him - a vampire... You're a monster!" He spat the word like it was snake-venom.

And it hurt. It hurt so freaking bad. It was like I had lodged a knife in my own chest years ago and now Jack was twisting it.

'I know I am.' I wanted to say.

"Well that's a harsh way of putting it. But I've been called worse." I brushed it off like I didn't care like it wasn't that deep like I wasn't  bleeding  to tell him how sorry I was. I lowered my head in shame.

"I-I have to tell Sam and Dean," Jack said, shifting onto the balls of his feet, edging towards the door. He was going to make a run for it. Suddenly, I was in control of my body again.

I couldn't let him. I needed more time. I needed to beat Felix first and then they could all find out. I had to fix this. I could still fix this.

I had made Jack forget once.

I could do it again.

I would take us back in time. Before he knew. Make everything right. Take us back to the night we met.

He had to forget.

"I can't let you do that," I spoke softly, my gaze still focused on my feet.

"Are you going to try to kill me?" He asked accusingly.

"No." I shook my head. No, I could never kill him. I was too selfish for that. He deserved someone so much better than me. But I loved him.

"Then what are you going to do?" Jack shifted closer to the exit.

"Isaac," I glanced at my brother out of the corner of my eye. Jack stiffened, his eyes snapping to where mine went. "Get the door."

"On it!" Isaac said, overly eager. Jack bolted but he was too slow. My brother flicked his wrist and the door swung closed with a click. Jack swallowed thickly and glanced back to me, fear filling his features. I knew what he was going to try next.

'This is necessary. One day I'll be sorry.'

"His wings," I said to Isaac, my voice breaking. Isaac grinned widely and reached out, making a pinching motion. Jack froze in a panic, then he clenched his eyes shut groaning as Isaac twisted his hands just a bit.

"Can I rip 'em off?" He asked, basking in the Nephilim's pain.

"Isaac, no!"

"Oh, come on," He twisted his hands even more and Jack cried out, his innocent face twisting in agony. "Just a little?"

"Stop! Just-" I sighed. "Please, don't hurt him, Isaac. Just keep him still, please."

Isaac rolled his eyes. "Oh, fine!" He let go and Jack fell to the ground, panting and shaking. He did his best to get to his feet but Isaac flung him into a wall, pinning him there. "Go ahead and Obliviate the simp."

I stood and stepped towards Jack, slowly and carefully, trying not to scare him any more than I had. I could tell he was trying desperately to move but Isaac was too strong.

"What are you going to do?" Jack demanded, trying to hide the fear in his voice. "Are you going to drink my blood?!"

I froze.

Because I could. Then, I could make him forget.

I glanced at his throat. My fangs ached to come out - to bite.  I could imagine what it might feel like to bury my teeth in that soft, delicious-smelling skin. I could imagine what he might taste like. He'd be sweet like candy. I could be gentle! Maybe if he could somehow understand how badly I needed him then he'd let me. And he heals fast so he'd be okay.

But he wouldn't understand. And I wanted him to hold me again.

I just wanted Jack to hold me again.

"No," I said. I plucked the picture frame from his hands, gazing at the smiles of my family for a moment. I looked up, trying to smile despite the ache of grief and guilt in my chest. "I'm going to need you to forget this."

"I wish I could," Jack said, glaring at the floor. He couldn't even look at me. He couldn't even look.

I nodded. "You will."

"W-what?"

I sighed and moved over to the window. The crisp breeze blew in from the sea as I threw it open, the curtains billowing like vicious barking dogs on a leash. It was a long way down to the black rocks where the land met the ocean. I dropped the picture and watched it tumble until it smashed into the rocks, shattering that perfect picture frame, shattering my picture-perfect family into a million pieces.

"I can make you forget," I told him, over my shoulder. "Take us back to the night we met." The power inside me trilled with excitement; it wanted Jack, it craved him. Or maybe that was just the monster I was, begging to be unleashed. I turned away from the window, closing it as I did.

"What do you mean?" He asked cautiously. He was scared. He was  so  scared.

"I'm going to talk to you, and then you're going to forget, and everything will be back to the way it was." I would fix this. His arms would be around me as soon as I fixed this and everything would be okay. I hung my head and let the power inside me launch forward and wrap itself like chains around my Nephilim. I could feel his light, his grace, fighting back but it had nothing substantial to fight. My power wasn't physical, I just imagined it being so.

"No! W-wait!" Jack watched me with dread, beginning to feel the effects of what I was doing to him. I was locking his memories away, locking him up in his own head. But I had to. Because he wouldn't understand and I needed him.

"I have to do this," I whispered, digging my mental claws in deeper.

"Stop," He gasped, beginning to tremble with effort, "Whatever you're doing, just stop!"

"I can't stop, Jack. I'm sorry, but I just need a little more time," I said, gently. "Four moves and I win."

"Four moves..." He mumbled to himself, his brows furrowing, "Four moves? I-I've heard that before. Where have I heard that before?" Then he groaned and squeezed his eyes shut again.

"Please, just forget. I need you to forget."

'I need you to hold me again.'

"Get out of my head!" Jack's voice rose with panic. He flinched away from me as much as he could but Isaac kept him pinned and helpless.

"I'm gonna make everything okay again. I promise." I fought harder against him, willing my power to work faster. Jack moaned and I glanced up to see his face contorted with pain.

"Please!" He begged me, grimacing, "Please, stop! Marty, please. It hurts." I tried harder, and a choked sob escaped his throat. "Marty, please! It hurts! It hurts! You have to stop! Please!"

"I wish you hadn't found out, Jack, and one day I'll be sorry about this."

"Wait. Wait, no!"

I pushed my power harder than I ever had before.

A horrifying scream of pure agony ripped from Jack's throat. But the walls of this house were built to withstand hurricanes. I was the only one who could hear him. With one last burst of effort, I overpowered the walls of his grace and my power flooded his mind, wiping away any memories of what I was. His scream faltered into groans and those softened into whimpers and Jack's body went limp.

Isaac let go and the Nephilim collapsed but I caught him before his head hit the floor. Carding my fingers through his hair, I pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Picking him up, I carried him to my bed and laid him there. He weighed more than I did, obviously, but he didn't feel very heavy to me. I laid down beside him, hugging him around the middle and pressing my face into his chest.

Then I finally cried.

"I hope you can forgive me before I'm sorry. Because I'm a liar and don't think I'll ever really regret this."

***

"You hear something?" Sam asked, perking up. Castiel sat dutifully on a large black bolder, watching the house. The angel flicked his eyes to Sam and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head before focusing back on the house.

"Hm? Uh, no." Dean hardly spared a glance. He was too busy drawing inappropriate words in the sand with his foot. Sam frowned.

"Weird." He shook his head, swallowing thickly as he paced back and forth across the moonlit sand.

"Martina threw a picture frame from her window and it shattered against the rocks approximately sixty-two feet south-east of where you are standing," Castiel informed him, "Perhaps that's what you heard."

Sam shook his head again, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No, no. It, uh, it wasn't that. I just- I-I coulda' sworn I heard someone..." He trailed off. 'Scream,' He wanted to say. The sound had been like a phantom pain; intense yet insubstantial.

'Just like the visions...' Sam thought. But no. That wasn't possible. He hadn't had a vision or any manifestation of psychic abilities for going on twelve years! He was probably just imagining things. Sam pushed the thought away as soon as it had come. It was impossible... Right?

Yet still, his eyes wandered to the window on the upstairs floor of the dark house; the only window with a slim shaft of light peaking through the curtains. Because what if...

No .

No. Everything was fine, Jack would have alerted them if there was any danger - or at least - the brothers and their angel would've been able to see if Jack thought there was any danger. Judging by the lack of explosions, Sam could assume that everything was fine.

There was no trap here after all. Although, if he thought about it, that may have been the trap in itself. That monster called Felix had lured Marty back here to relive the most painful day of her life. There had been no vamps waiting to do her any physical harm, but Felix didn't need them to. He just wanted that poor, sweet, little girl to hurt.

And, boy was she hurting.

Sam knew how it felt to lose a brother. He knew how it felt to watch his brother die twice. Hell! Sam had watched Dean die more than one hundred times on the one hundred worst Tuesdays of his life. It had made him feel empty inside - hollow. Like somebody had scraped out everything inside of him, the good and the bad, and had left an utter nothingness in its place. And in the face of all that nothing, fear had gripped Sam's heart like a vice. Fear of that emptiness - of all the unspeakable things it made him willing to do. Sam had been willing - eager even - to do whatever it took if it meant filling that awful hole inside of him.

That was what scared him. It was that ruthlessness. It was that titanium will he'd always shied away from. It was when he'd looked into a mirror and seen John Winchester staring back at him. Deep down, that was what both Sam and Dean had always feared the most. Becoming their father. Becoming the shell of a man that had raised them.

Sam could see the beginnings of a similar shell-forming in Martina. He had seen it when they'd rescued her from that shed the week before. Her shell wasn't made of hate like John's had been - not completely at least. Marty's shell had come from grief and fear. She was just trying to hide; both from Felix and from the shell of a person that she was becoming. Jack had told Sam about Marty's memory gaps - about how she couldn't remember what had happened in the shed after she had left. Sam knew that traumatized people tend to blot things out, it was common. But things like the shed and her return to her childhood home could only serve to send Marty further into her shell.

And the last thing the world needed was another John Winchester.

"These kids were livin' a dream, aye Sammy?"

Sam frowned as Dean's mumbled words knocked him from his train of thought. "H-how do you mean?"

"I mean, look! They had everything!" He said, gesturing from the white sand of the beach to the black rocks to the brine woods. His tone and expression grew sober. "Just like a little fairy-tale. And, I mean, three psychics? Those kids - they had a lotta' potential. So smart and talented and now..." Dean trailed off with a frown.

"Yeah..." Sam quietly agreed. Dean turned to his brother with a pensive expression.

"Got me thinkin', maybe-" He sighed. It was hard for him to say and he didn't want to say it. Even though Dean knew that Marty was capable of more than she seemed and that she could affect his emotions, he didn't really care.

Well, he did  care . Dean hated people screwing with his head or his feelings, period. But somehow Marty was different. He didn't really care to admit it, but Dean had always wanted a daughter. A sweet soul he could love and care for but definitely, with a badass side, he could bestow his knowledge upon. Claire was a close as he had gotten but she had already grown up and she didn't want his help. To Claire, Dean was only a painful reminder of all she'd lost.

And, of course, there was Emma.

But Dean didn't like to think about her.

Thinking about Emma was too painful.

But Marty was still young, and she didn't see Dean the way Clair did. Marty looked at Dean with hope in her eyes and he desperately wanted to keep it that way.

Jack had used to look at him that way. Jack didn't look at him like that anymore.

Because Dean had messed up with Jack. He could admit that now. He'd messed up and he'd messed up bad. Things had gotten better between them; little by little over time. But Jack hadn't even been five days old when Dean had promised to take his life. After that, Jack had only watched Dean with fear. Not hope. Just sheer friggin' terror on his face whenever the elder Winchester walked into the room. And though things had gotten better, they'd always have that promise between them.

That promise from the night when if Dean had only been a better person he could have made things better and not worse like he always did. (Because he was always making things worse. Always too selfish. Always screwing things up. Always getting people hurt. It was always him, always his fault.) Dean could've snatched that knife from Jack's hands and told him it was going to be alright even if it didn't seem like it would be. And Dean could've given the kid the kind of hug he should've been given the day he was born; a father's hug, just like Castiel would have given him if he'd been alive to do it. Because that was Cas's son. That was Cas's kid! Oh, God... Cas... How could Dean have let his best friend down so horribly? Cas, who had given everything up for him and his brother. Cas had saved them time and time again at his own expense. Cas, who would bleed every drop of blood he had with a smile on his face, all in the name of the Winchesters. How could Dean have betrayed him like that? It wasn't enough for Dean to just let the angel die!  (It was Dean's fault, of course. It always was. How couldn't it be? He could have prevented it. If he'd just been a little faster or a little smarter.) No, he had to go and tear that innocent kid to pieces just cause he was sad. (So, selfish. How could he be so selfish? Why was he always so selfish?) Cas had trusted Dean with his son and Dean had repaid him with the promise to take Jack's life. No wonder Jack still could hardly bear to look Dean in the eyes. How could he? Dean wasn't meant to be a father to anyone. He was too frickin' selfish for that.

But this time, things would be different. This time around, Dean would be different - he would be better. For once in his life, he would be selfless and he'd do the right thing even if it possibly meant giving up his only chance to raise a little girl. Because, despite being tainted by darkness and tears, there was still so much good inside Martina Linville. She had so much potential, with the right chances, she could grow up to be great. But she would need those right chances and she wouldn't get them if she stayed with the Winchester's broken little family. All they brought to people was tears and death.

Dean didn't want that for her. She deserved better. Just like Dean himself and his brother had deserved better. She deserved to live a life free from all this pain - a good life, a happy life. Dean wanted that for her. Dean just wanted to help. That was all he'd ever wanted. The last thing Marty needed was more darkness in her life. She didn't need them in her life.

She didn't need him in her life.

So, Dean would be selfless and he would let her go and he would give her the chance to shine like the stars she loved so much. It was probably the most fatherly thing he could do for her. 'Cause Dean just wasn't cut out to be a Dad.

But, oh, did he wish he could be one. Even though he knew that Marty's empathic abilities were probably what was making him feel so strongly about her, Dean couldn't help but go along with it. It wasn't like she was stuffing thoughts in his head; his feelings may have been bolstered but Dean's mind was his own. Dean had always wanted a daughter, Marty hadn't made that up that wish, she'd just reminded him of it. He felt awful about how he had treated Jack and craved a chance at redemption for his mistakes; Dean had made those choices, all Marty had done was exist to give him a chance. Sure, she was rioting his emotions. But what did that matter? Because Dean wanted this and damn it! This felt real!

But he couldn't have it.

Because Dean, and his brother, and their angel, and - yes - even Jack -- it was all some sick, screwed up, god damn beautiful tragedy -- But they were the last thing Martina Linville needed.

So, Dean would be selfless.

"Thinkin' about what?" Sam's question shook Dean from his reverie and back to what he'd been meaning to say.

"Maybe we should put her into the system after all this," He said, thoughtfully, though there was regret in his tone also. Sam blinked twice, shaking his head.

"W-what? The system? You mean the foster system?" He asked, incredulously.

"Yeah? Something wrong with that?" Dean responded. Sam gaped at him.

"Is something wrong with that? Dean, everything is wrong with that!" He exclaimed. Dean opened his mouth to argue but Sam didn't let him. "We made Marty a promise! Just this morning you said she was part of the family. Was all that just talk?"

"No, but-"

"Then what the Hell was it, Dean? Because you can't just go back on something like that! We said we'd take care of her," Sam huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at his older brother.

"And that's exactly what we'd be doing," Dean argued, "Giving her a place that's safe."

"Who would take her in? She's fourteen and she's got more trauma than some war veterans, I don't-"

"Exactly!" Dean cut him off. "The kid's got issues! She needs help, the professional kind."

"Since when do you promote therapy? Sam scoffed.

"When it doesn't involve me," Dean grumbled. Sam shook his head, getting back to the point.

"Throwing her on a bunch of strangers with no clue what she's been through, and who couldn't possibly understand her even if they knew, isn't going to help her! She'd get tossed around or thrown into some group therapy home till she's eighteen and then they'd dump her back on the streets where we found her! How is that taking care of her?"

"It's getting her out of this life, Sam," Dean said firmly. Sam glared.

"You mean getting her out of your life," The younger brother spat lowly.

"What did you just say?" Dean asked dangerously.

"You heard me."

"You have somethin' ya wanna say to my face, Sammy?" Dean growled.

"Dean," Castiel said his name like a warning, his hand gripping Dean's shoulder, holding him back.

"Yeah, I do." Sam's nostrils flared and his mouth was pressed into a thin line. "I'm not gonna stand by and watch you do this again."

"Do what again?" Dean questioned, Cas' hand on his shoulder reminding him to keep calm.

"This thing you do. Anytime a kid comes along, you do this. You act all annoyed, then right as you start liking having 'em around something happens and you realize the responsibility and it freaks you out so you back off and you push 'em away."

"I don't do that," Dean said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah? 'Cause you did it with Kevin, you did it with Claire, you did it with Jack, and now you're doing it again right now with Marty. The second things get real, you get scared and you run away." Sam kept eye contact with Dean, challenging him to look away. Dean clenched his teeth, his pride preventing him from losing the contest of wills.

"Quit fooling yourself, Sam. Look at me!" Dean's voice broke just a little. But he cleared his throat, quick to cover his mistake. "Er, at us, I mean. We can't raise a kid!" He protested.

"We raised Jack," Sam countered.

"Because there were  literally no better alternatives!" Dean seethed. Sam opened his mouth but Dean wasn't done. Hyperaware of Castiel's presence just behind him, guilt ate at his heart. But Dean had never been very good at apologies. "And I even screwed that up! I'm not Dad material, Sam. I'm just not!"

His outburst of emotion made Sam blink, rendering him momentarily speechless. He could have spoken his next words gently but pride made them come out like acid.

"I don't think that's what Ben thought," He hissed. Sam knew it was a low-blow bringing up Ben. That wound was still sore.

"Yeah?" Dean laughed but there was no humor in it. "WELL LOOK HOW THAT TURNED OUT!" He yelled. Sam tensed but didn't back off.

"Something isn't real because it lasts, Dean," Sam said, speaking just a little bit gentler now. "For however short a time, Ben had a dad that loved and cared about him. For however short a time, you made him happy. You say you're not dad material, but that's not what I saw. If that's what you're so worried about, then don't be. 'Cause you made an pretty awesome dad, Dean, even if Ben doesn't remember."

Dean sighed in defeat. "We have nothing to give her, Sam."

"We have trust and understanding, a-and that's more than some random foster home could give her."

Dean shook his head. "It doesn't have to be random."

"What do mean?"

"Jody," He suggested, "I mean, she's already got Claire and Alex. What's one more?"

Sam sighed through his nose, shaking his head. "Yeah, she's got Claire and Alex-" He paused giving his older brother a pointed look. "-  And Patience and Kaia. What's one more? That's only five emotionally unstable teenage girls to take care of, on top of a full time job as a sheriff, and hunting to worry about too."

"I agree with Sam," Castiel spoke up, "We cannot simply dump yet another troubled youth onto the already burdened shoulders of Sheriff Mills." Sam gestured to the angel as if accentuate his point.

"But at least she'd be safe," Dean argued, pursing his lips into a thin line.

"From monsters, sure," Sam agreed, nodding. Dean could sense a ' but ' coming. "But not from herself."

"Jody could help Marty just as much as we could - probably more!" He said. Dean could hear Sam grind his teeth in frustration, but Cas held up a hand to speak.

"I don't think that's true, Dean."

"Why not?" Dean asked the angel.

"'Why not?' Haven't you been listening?" Sam exclaimed. Cas shot the younger Winchester a look and he fell silent.

"I am sure Sheriff Mills is a competent and kind woman; however, Martina does not know or trust her. Sending her to live there would only be marginally better than shipping her off to a stranger," The angel stated, evenly.

"What's that gotta do with what Sam said?" Dean asked. Cas gave him a long-suffering look but continued in perfect patience.

"As weary as I am of Martina's true motives and intentions, I think it is plenty clear the choice she faces after the termination of her family's killer. That is, if she has not made her decision already."

Dean's face scrunched with confusion. "What choice is that?"

"The choice of continuing to live free from the threat of Felix Monroe, or..." The angel trailed off, frowning. His tone made Dean feel like there was a knot in his chest.

"Or what?" He pressed, cautiously. Cas sighed.

"Or to end her life and return to her family," Cas finished, soberly.

Dean was stunned. He hadn't thought- He had never realized.

"Wait, whoa. Are you telling me Marty wants to commit suicide?" His eyes were wide with fear and alarm. She was too young for that. Too young to want to kill herself. No. She couldn't. Dean wouldn't let that happen. "Where's this coming from?" He demanded. Sam glared at him.

"She told her little brother she'd be with him soon. Combine that with the scars on her wrists, and it's really not that hard to figure out," He said, coolly.

Scars? Dean understood now. That was why she was always wearing long sleeves, even in the sweltering heat of Florida. Sam took advantage of his older brother's silence.

"Think about it, Dean," He pushed, "Sending her away from first people she's allowed herself to get attached to in five years? You think that will help?"

The thought made Dean reconsider but Sam had more to say.

"A-and think of Jack! You've seen how much he cares about her. I've seen him smile more in these last two and a half weeks than he did in the five months since we got him back from Apocalypse World. What do you think would happen if he found Marty laying in a pool of her own blood? What do you think that would do to him?"

"It would kill him." Dean sighed, nodding in agreement and Sam cracked a smile.

"I mean, we both know he loves her, Dean. And I-I don't mean like a sister," The younger brother said, fondly. Dean chuckled and the tension in the air cleared.

"Yeah, there's definitely a thing there." He shook his head, grinning. "I mean, it's totally weird but it's a thing." Sam nodded and shrugged.

"Well, I dated a demon. I don't think I can judge."

"You can say that again!" Dean laughed.

The sudden chime of a phone ringing cut through the cool nighttime air like a knife and Dean reached to answer. The smile dropped from his face as soon as he caught a glance at the screen.

"Who is it?" Castiel asked.

"Blocked," Dean answered, apprehension filling his voice, "Three guesses as to who." He mumbled, sliding a finger across the screen to pick up the call and putting it on speaker.

"This is Dean Winchester," He announced as the line connected.

There was no voice on the other side of the call.

"Hello?" He tried again.

Again nothing.

Dean could hear someone breathing but they didn't speak. The breaths sounded ragged and uneven like the person was out of breath. There was background noise as well, a deep rumbling that seemed to increase in volume as time wore on. Without warning, the sound of a deep bellowing horn blared from the phone's speaker. It was the sort of horn that typically accompanies a low rumbling noise. It was the sort of horn that accompanies a really, really big train. The sound of the horn grew louder but soon began to fade as the train passed by whoever had been holding the phone. Something told him this wasn't a simple case of a butt-dial. The situation unnerved for some reason he couldn't name. It was like a scene from a movie.

"Tell me who you are or I'm hanging up," Dean said, his voice demanding.

"I-I would'nt d-do that if I were y-you!"  A desperate, ragged voice called from the phone. Dean had gotten it wrong. The person on the phone wasn't Felix. The person on the phone was a little girl and she wasn't out of breath. She was terrified.

"Why not?" He asked, cautiously.

"B-because little Pamala o-only get's this one c-call." The voice on the other end sounded oddly robotic despite the words being broken into syllables by the girl's sobs.

"What do you mean?" He wondered.

"She-she's lu-ucky you picked u-up. If you hadn't I'd have t-old my friends to e-eat swe-eet Pammy here! Sh-she's seven, just so you know!"  The little girl choked out.

"Felix," Dean growled, "You're using the little girl to talk for you?"

"Pamala is a c-cute little pup-pet. But she's a-annoy-ing. If she d-doesn't stop s-stutter-ing, I'll tell one of my f-friends to t-ake a bite!"  The little girl whimpered and took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice for the sake of her life. " So, what shall I make Panama say next?"

Dean gritted his teeth together. To his right, Sam looked like he was going to be sick. But this wasn't just sick, this was downright  vile . On his left, Cas looked about ready to rip that monster apart with his bare hands.

"Why don't you talk to me with your own voice, Nessie? Ya scared?" Dean taunted.

"No. That would ruin the fun of the game." The girl spoke slowly, trying her best to stay calm.

"What game?" Castiel demanded, sounding a step away from livid.

"You hunters and your angel have thirty minutes to come and rescue poor, little Pamala. When time is up, I'll tell my friends to- to r-rip her in- into itty-bitty pieces!" The girl let out a panicked sob after finishing the monster's words.

"How are we supposed to do that?" Dean demanded, fuming. "She could be anywhere!"

"No, not anywhere, Dean. She's sitting all wrapped up in the attic of the Florida East Coast Railway Station at Fort Pierce. I might be there with her too, gives you a chance to catch me just to make things interesting. But you better hurry, I hear t-traffic can be a biatch."

"You're gonna pay for this, you son of a bitch!" Dean growled.

"Watch the language, Dean Winchester. There are children present. You don't wanna spoil little Pamala's innocence, do you?"

Dean was so enraged, he couldn't even speak. Luckily, Sam was thinking the same as he was.

"We're gonna kill you," Sam promised.

"Perhaps. But not before I show y-you the truth."

The truth? What truth?

"This call will end in...

Five...

Four..."

"Stay strong, sweetheart!" Dean called to the little girl on the other side of the phone. "We're gonna come help you!"

"Three...

Two...

One...

...

...

...

Please save me...

...

...

...

I don't wanna die..."

Then the line clicked and the call was over.

Dean clenched his jaw and put the phone away.

"Let's go gank that sick bastard."

~I am not the only traveler

And then I can tell myself

I had all and then most of you

When the night was full of terrors

Lyrics from: The Night We Met by Lord Huron

I had all and then most of you

[missbugaboo]

LadyNoir July 2020 | Day 1

"Chat let his fingers hover over her fist, coming close enough to nearly brush the back of her hand with the tips of his claws, but not close enough for her to feel it distinctively. Ladybug wanted to scream."

Written for @ladynoirjuly2020

And a big shout-out to @nerdypanda3126​ for proofreading it for me again!

Day 1: A Wall Between Us

C’est fort quand je le vois Je veux crier sur tous les toits Notre amour qui nous tend les bras Mais je sais que je ne dois pas Ce n’est pas le moment Il faut être patients Être patients

It is strong when I see it I want to shout it out on all the rooftops Our love that reaches us But I know I shouldn’t It is not the moment We need to be patient Be patient

"It doesn't matter, does it?" he asked the night before him, his words echoing in the cool Parisian air with a note of resignation that surpassed even the sadness in them. He was calm, he was composed, he was anything she could wish him to be, handling the situation with all the dignity of a true young gentleman.

A true hero.

And yet, as Ladybug watched his back, stiff and tense under his ebony suit, she couldn't help but regret every wish she had ever made regarding his conduct.

It would have been so much better if he had just screamed with annoyance at her.

"It doesn't matter if I say it or not," she heard him pick up after the shortest of pauses and refocused her wandering gaze at the back of his head; she wished she could look into his face instead, but clearly, that wasn't an option now... and who knew if maybe it wasn't for the best, for both of their sakes. "It doesn't matter if I hold back and pretend that I've moved on or if I throw caution to the wind and go back to telling you how much I actually care. Meaning, there really is no point acting as if I don't."

"Chat, please-" she tried to respond, but he gave her no chance.

"You know that I love you, Ladybug," he said, his voice as firm as it was cold. "You do, so don't hurt me even more pretending that you don't. It's bad enough as it is, without you treating me like a fool."

She nodded, biting her lower lip as she fought desperately in the battle against her own misery. There was a stinging behind her eyes and a wetness under her lashes; a lump rising in her throat and a headache she could feel coming.

Her nails dug against the palms of her hands, so deep that even the magical fabric of her costume wasn't enough to nullify the pain.

She saw Chat turn around slowly and suddenly, she realised that it was far more difficult not to look away on her part. She had prayed for him to face her, she reminded herself, forcing her rebellious body to remain still and meeting her partner's gaze steadily. She would not succumb to her own weakness and run, no matter how much she wanted to.

After all, she owed him that much.

"I do know," she whispered at last, hoping that her resolution would be enough to keep her from falling apart, if only for a little while. "But I never intended to hide it from you. I just... didn't think it would do any good bringing it up again. Perhaps I was the one being foolish this time."

He was closer now, so close that she could see that sad smile of his without even looking directly at it. It made her heart clench with pain; all the more so when she once again recalled that there really was nothing she could do about it.

They were in a pit, and there simply wasn't a way out at this point.

"Because you can't love me back, right?" Chat mused quietly. "But Ladybug, I know that. You've been as clear as you could be and even if that weren't the case, the last two years would have been enough to teach me that sometimes you just can't change how things are. That... stubbornness... regardless of how noble the intentions might be, may often lead to suffering, for both of the parties involved.

"However, the same experience that made that clear to me also taught me something else. Namely, that no matter how much I try, what means I take, I just can't get over my feelings for you; and my hopeless endeavours to do so were exactly what hurt people most."

She felt it rather than saw his next movement, when he raised his hand and reached towards hers. Her instincts told her to step away, or at least to clasp her hands together in a way that would make it impossible for him to grasp her - and yet, that first first impulse was soon overcome by the next, one that made her freeze in space, unable to as much as lift her finger, and much less to make a motion that was not only conscious, but effective as well.

And then it turned out that all of it was of no importance, as Chat himself was the one restraining himself in the end.

She almost wished that he had gone through with it.

Yet, he didn't. Instead, he let his fingers hover over her fist, coming close enough to nearly brush the back of her hand with the tips of his claws, but not close enough for her to feel it distinctively.

Ladybug wanted to scream.

"I'm not asking you to change your mind, you know," he continued in a hoarse whisper that matched her trembling murmurs from before. "Mostly because I know it's not your mind that needs changing. I've learnt first-hand that you can't make your heart feel differently than it does, whether you want to fall in love or to fall out of it... So, I would be an idiot trying to impose something like that on you."

"I've never felt that you did," Ladybug answered quickly, before he could start another monologue. She saw him raise an eyebrow at her and blushed, abashed. "I mean, I did in the early stages, I guess. In those first months of this whole superhero thing... At the time before you found a girlfriend two years ago. But never after that."

"Even though you knew how I felt?"

She shrugged and crossed her arms, embracing her own body tightly. "Maybe? It's not like I knew all along, after all. I really did believe that you'd moved on at first... I mean, you seemed to glow whenever you mentioned that girl of yours, so it couldn't have all been fake. And even when I realised that you still thought about me that way, it was different. You were different."

"I thought I was," Chat agreed with a smile. This time, Ladybug did sense his touch against her hand, before he stepped back and turned away from her. His hand rose to scratch the nape of his neck; once again, she had to restrain from reaching out and grasping it herself. "Though it's certainly good to know that it was more than my wishful thinking. The last thing I wanted was to make you uncomfortable, even if I knew the odds of that happening were slim. So, I'm relieved."

"I'm glad that you are," she offered with a weak smile of her own.

"And I swear that hasn't changed," he went on, as if he hadn't heard her say it; then again, it really could have been the case. "I'm not trying to convince you to reconsider your stance, or to give me a chance. I know that I don't have any. The boy you've always talked about... I don't know if you've reached an understanding with him - quite frankly, I don't think I want to know - but it's obvious that he still means the world to you. That in the same way that I was unable to get over you, you can't really give up on him. And it's fine, it really is... Because I have no intention of standing in the way of that. All I want is for you to let me admit my own feelings and to acknowledge them. I won't ask for anything more than that."

He spun on his heel one more time, ready to face her. His initial animosity was long gone at this point, his trademark grin back in his place with no sarcastic vibe attached to it. There was a melancholy in it. Anguish, perhaps.

Nothing but that.

Ladybug watched him for a while, processing his speech, analysing word upon word of what he had said. She could almost feel herself drowning in all the warmth that had radiated from his assertions, the selflessness and attentiveness with which he had treated her for the longest time, unable and unwilling to break the comforting silence with her own untimely response.

And yet, she was bound to respond.

"You're wrong about one thing," she chose to say eventually. "The boy you mentioned... He's not the reason why I'm keeping my distance with you."

The shock on his face was as great as it was expected, and it almost made Ladybug chuckle - or it surely would have, had the matter not been as serious as it was. Still, it made some of the tension between them dissolve; Ladybug quickly decided that it was an opportunity she should not allow to pass.

In for an inch, in for a mile.

"I don't want to play with your feelings, Chat, which is why I didn't say anything before. Maybe I shouldn't say anything now, either... But you were honest with me, and I feel it's only right if I repay you in kind," she explained carefully. "I don't want to go into details, not yet... However, I believe you have the right to know the reason I'm  still keeping you at arm's length at times - or at least to know what isn't that reason."

"So, what you're saying is... You're no longer in love with him?"

Again, Ladybug nodded.

"But... You still won't fall in love with me?"

His question resonated in her ears for a good few moments, silence falling over them once more as she let herself ponder over his words, trying to find a way to answer him in a way that would be both safe and sincere. There was still so much at risk, way too much for her to easily disregard the first of the requirements, yet at the same time, she couldn't lie to him about a matter so major.

Sadly, she couldn't exactly tell him that she had fallen in love with him already, either.

Which was precisely what had happened. She couldn't tell how or when, though certainly not for the luck of trying to determine it ("I've fallen for Chat Noir, Tikki! When did I do that?!"), and no one, no one had been more surprised than the young superheroine herself (again, not that she was in the position to tell anyone about this insanity). She didn't know if there was a specific moment or event that made her heart speed up for him, or even if there was one that only made her realise her advancing infatuation when she'd been in too deep to even think of going back.

It was unclear, unsettling, confusing... while simultaneously, the more time had passed since she had first accepted a possibility of thinking of her friend in terms of romance, the more obviously natural it appeared.

Because she did love Chat Noir.

Of course she did.

Still, it had taken her aback at first. When Adrien and Kagami broke up (a good five months after she had parted ways with Luka), she was sure that her treacherous heart would take over her brain again, making her go back to square one despite the progress she had made beforehand. Sure, she probably wouldn't fall apart every time Adrien might decide to talk to her when she'd been perfectly able to speak with full sentences (or paragraphs, when her creativeness struck her) for the majority of the previous year. However, that could hardly be a guarantee of her overall success.

Surprisingly, though, the catastrophe she had feared so much didn't come. Weeks and months had passed and the two became closer than ever before - and yet, their relationship never reached the point of being a romantic one. There were a few... instances when it seemed it might go that way - a farewell embrace that lasted a little longer than necessary, a cheek kiss that held more to it than a traditional greeting required.

A few of the many night-time calls that hinted at the prospect of not remaining entirely platonic after all.

All those were one time incidents, too few and too trivial to be given any consideration afterwards. Nothing but hints which, not taken up by the other person, were left alone and forgotten about.

The funniest thing?

It was Adrien who dropped those hints most of the time.

But he wasn't petty or disappointed about it. They were friends - best friends - who also happened to be testing waters a little, after both of their relationships had gone south. She stopped doing it as soon as she realised to whom her heart really belonged now; Adrien went on with it still, though frankly speaking, it seemed more of a habit he'd developed than a serious offer on his part.

So there she was, head over heels in love with her other best partner and friend, who apparently never managed to get over her. A perfect situation with a perfect ending in sight.

If only it was some other time.

"I'm sorry, what?" Chat asked suddenly, making her snap out of her reverie.

The disoriented look he was giving her made her realise that she had said the last part out loud and, not wanting to confuse him more, she rephrased, "The time. It's not the right time."

She had no trouble noticing the change in him, prompted by her words. His eyes widened behind the mask; his breathing hitched for a second while his mouth opened a bit, the hope and anxiety visible in every inch of his being.

Oh, how she wanted to tell him more! To run up to him and throw her arms around his neck, heedless to the risk that was bound to such an act. To forget about Hawkmoth and their duty to defeat him, of Chat Blanc and the tragedy meant to occur if they gave in to their own dreams and needs.

To tell him that she loved him and that she was sure she always would.

But she couldn't tell him that. Even if she made the condition of not becoming official and waiting until Hawkmoth is no more, it would have been to risky. Official or not, a couple or not, they would not be the same after the confession was made - and as much as she yearned to say the words, it was not something they could afford right now.

The moment just wasn't right.

So she stared back at him, their eyes locked together as she tried to convey her affection without making a statement itself. Then she took a deep breath and, making sure he was listening carefully, she asked:

"Will you wait for me, Chaton?"

The gleam of happiness she saw in his irises was all she could ever ask for.

[aweebwrites]

Perspective

Warning: A smol amount of curse words

Ninjago Pride Week (Day 1- Questioning)

_______________________

Cole never really questioned his sexuality before. Never really considered it. That is, until… He looked at things from a different perspective.

It was one of those hot summer days with nothing to do, no-one to save. Cole had groggily walked into the living space, the heat too unbearable to sleep in anymore than he already had. He was unsurprised to find Kai and Jay clinging to Zane's arms as he sat on the couch, watching TV unbothered. He was the master of ice after all. Even without using his powers, he radiated a comforting kind of coolness. What did confuse him however was that Nya and Lloyd weren't there joining in like they always did.

Jay spotted him then and saw the confusion on his face.

"Lloyd caught a cold from last night's patrol. Nya opted to look after him with Sensei Wu." Jay explained and Cole grunted before walking over.

He then dropped to his knees and rested his head into Zane's lap, sighing as he could feel the coolness he radiated against his sweat dampened skin. Zane chuckled then, running his metal fingers through Cole's hair.

"Holding this position for long isn't any good for your knees. Perhaps a better position is in your interests?" Zane suggested and Cole only grunted.

He'll move when he feels like it. All three of them laughed at his antics and Cole peered up at Zane, his hair falling out of the way with the movement, giving him a clearer view. His eyes widened, seeing Zane's wide, amused smile, his gentle, glowing blue eyes bright, lighting up his whole face. Cole was starstruck, heat filling his cheeks. He buried his face into Zane's lap, his heart pounding a mile a minute.

Woah… What the heck was that?

He shifted on his knees.

"You should really move before you suffer long lasting injuries…" Zane murmured softly, petting Cole's hair still, the caring tenderness of his voice having Cole's stomachs doing flips.

Without lifting his no doubt beet red face out of Zane's lap, he climbed into the couch so he was laying across Kai's lap.

"You're heavier than you look." Kai commented but didn't shift him off of him.

"Lemme get in on that hair action." Jay says, reaching out to pet his soft hair before he began fiddling with a few strands.

"I didn't know you could braid Jay." Zane says, lifting his brow.

"Go Jay." Kai says with a smirk and Jay flushed a little with a shrug.

"Hey, fiddle in your mom's hair long enough and you pick up a thing or two." He shrugged.

Cole watched the entire interaction, focused on Zane's expressions and his voice. What is this really…

___________

Ever since, Cole has been in a sort of debate with himself.

He watched Zane for a while, wanting to try and place this sudden influx of feelings on something tangible. Certainly he couldn't have a crush on Zane… Right? He wasn't gay… Right?

That train or thought had him looking at his other ninja as well, more specifically Nya. He really shouldn't considering her and Jay's one time fling that ended because of him but… He liked girls… Right? Maybe not Nya from what he could tell. His eyes drifted to Jay who was grinning as he struck cool poses with his nunchucks. A particularly wrong spin of them had him smacking himself in the back of the head. Cole couldn't hold back his snicker. He was such an adorable idiot.

Cole blinked at that. Oh no. Did he have a crush on Jay too???

He can't possibly. He walked over to Jay, swinging his hammer on his shoulder. He'll prove it.

"I would have given you a perfect 10 but that last performance had me wondering if I should call medics." He says as he stopped next to Jay and- shit, that wasn't what he was supposed to say at all.

That almost sounded as if he was flirting with him. Jay looked up at him with wide blue eyes then flushed a little in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his head. Cole felt heat rising in his cheeks, his stomach churning anxiously as he looked over his freckled face, said freckles standing out even more against his red cheeks. Not to mention those gorgeous wide eyes… What was he trying to prove again?

"You saw that, huh?" Jay says, embarrassedly, glancing away but then looked up at him, his wide eyes narrowing in determination. "I'll get it eventually." He promised and Cole couldn't help his smile.

"I'm sure you will spark plug." He says and Jay grinned at him.

_______

That night, Cole lay awake as his friends slept around him in their own beds. He had the same feelings for Jay. It wasn't the exact same thing per say. When he looked at Zane, seeing him smile, hearing him laugh… It was like someone lit a fire in his chest. When he looked at Jay with his big eyes and smile, his freckled face and his overall adorableness… His stomach is in knots. The wanting he felt to touch them both, to hold hands, to hold them, especially to kiss them… It only grew by the hour. He wonders what it would be like to cuddle into Zane's back, burying his nose into his shoulders with his arms wrapped around his waist. Would Zane mind? Does he even like to cuddle?

He knew Jay did. He cuddles his pillows rather than sleeping on them. Even though it leaves him with a crick in his neck, he just can't seem to stop. It was compulsory. Cole looked across at him before slipping out of bed, grabbing his own pillow. Jay was of course sleeping with one pillow in between his legs and the other wrapped tightly in his arm. Cole let a smile slip onto his face. He gently lifted Jay's head, slipped his pillow underneath then gently rest his head down on it.

He hoped his pillow wasn't too soft for him. Contrary to popular beliefs, he really likes soft things. He then smiled at the sleeping boy then headed over to his bed again, laying on his sole pillow. He sighed softly then closed his eyes. Maybe he should get some sleep. Staying up all night and worrying over something like this isn't very healthy…

Jay nuzzled into the pillow, inhaling the scent of Cole that filled his nose and sighed happily. He opened his eyes again.

You really shouldn't lead me on like this Cole… I don't think my heart could take it.

He glanced across the room at Cole then at Kai and last but certainly not least, Zane. He pulled the pillow from under his head, squeezing it too his chest as he stared ahead sadly.

Not when things are complicated as is…

________________

"Let's see what you've got pretty boy." Kai grinned, holding his sword defensively.

"Oh bring it hot rod." Cole shot back, lifting his hammer.

They both yelled as they charged at each other, Kai using his sword to block his hammer's swing, grunting once he began skidding back.

"So those muscles aren't for show." Kai grunted out, managing to throw a flirty smirk at him.

He however used his hammer as balance and flipped over him, leaving Cole stumbling forward as Kai landed on his feet behind him, grinning successfully as Cole turned around.

"And I see you're not just a pretty face." Cole says, trading hands for his hammer.

"Oh my god can you guys not train without flirting?" Lloyd says and they looked over at their grimacing leader from where he stopped training with Zane.

Both fire and earth elemental flushed, shooting a quick glance at each other.

"We get it, you like each other. Go on a date already." Nya added and Kai shot her a glare, cheeks darkening.

She freaking knew why he couldn't just date Cole. He can't date him when he wasn't the only one he had eyes on. Cole was panicking a little because of course he'd go catch feelings for Kai too- and he hadn't even noticed until now. He always passed off getting up close and personal with Kai as a strategic move, always passed off flirting with him as a means to distract him. Passed off the spark- now flames between them as something else until he convinced himself that it was true. He glanced back at Kai who looked at him, cheeks just as red as his were, his almost glowing amber eyes igniting warmth through his stomach and chest.

This would be a perfect opportunity to ask him out but… It wouldn't be fair to Kai when… He looked at a surprised Zane and Jay.

"... I think that's enough training for one day. I'm… I'm gonna take a walk…" Cole says, heading towards and out the Monastery gates.

"I could use a nap…" Jay says, heading in.

"I should prepare lunch." Zane says then also headed in, leaving Lloyd, Nya and Kai alone.

"I told you to leave it alone!" He hissed at Nya, the moment they were all out of earshot.

"... My bad. I just thought since-"

"Well you thought wrong!" He snapped at her and she flinched.

He sighed, feeling like an asshole.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that." He apologized then turned away. "I just…" He remembered the surprised look they all wore.

They must think him liking guys as much as he likes girls is disgusting…

"I need some time to think." He whispered, walking over to the monastery wall and scaling it, hopping up to the roof.

Nya watched him go and rubbed her arm.

"I really messed up, didn't I?" She whispered…

___________

Jay huffed his pillow- Cole's pillow, staring ahead blankly. So he and Kai liked each other like that huh? He didn't know why he was so upset. The idea of him getting to have all of them is not only selfish but it might as well be fantasy. It doesn't work that way. This world doesn't work that way. Tears stung his eyes. He knew it doesn't work that way… So why…? He buried his face into the pillow, shaking as he did.

_________

Zane went on autopilot setting up lunch, mind far away. It wasn't a well kept secret that he had feelings for his teammates. For as long as he could remember really. How could he not? They were… He tries to keep it as one but he slips up too easily. The probability of all of them becoming one is too low for him to even hope of it. They would all have to share some feelings for each other for that to work or else things will fall apart quickly. The chances of that is less than 2.24%. He contented himself as being their friend instead, being there for them. But…

'We get it, you like each other. Go on a date already.'

He should be happy for his friends getting together. Being happy… He gripped the handle of the pot tightly, startling once it snapped clean off in his hand. He looked down at it, sadness filling his systems. Maybe it was a curse that he got to experience these feelings. He was a Nindroid. A robot. What did he know about emotions? What could he ever know about love? A blue drop of coolant landed on the broken handle, reminding him so much of himself. It didn't stop him from wanting to find out…

______________

Kai hugged his knees as he stared blankly ahead, his sword laying on the roof next to him. He was an idiot, wasn't he? If he was falling for only one of them, it wouldn't be so bad, you know? But no. His over the top self had to go for all of his friends. He thought back to Jay's wide smiles, to Zane's soft ones, to Cole's all out grins. A smile tugged at his lips, thinking of them. It fell quickly. Their lives were complicated as is. He shouldn't try to complicate things even more with his feelings. He laid back at the roof, staring at the partially cloudy sky. He should… He should keep his distance…

_______________

Ever since, there was an awkward tension between the four. They made sure to give each other plenty of space, crucially watching how they spoke and interacted with each other. Sensei Wu was curious to what the sudden shift was but the moment Lloyd mentioned relationships, he kindly left them to their devices. They all thought they were doing what was best for the others but of course, things have a very special way of going wrong.

______

"Kai!" Said fire elemental grunted as he hit the ground, the building collapsing around them from the bomber that blew out the building's support

"Get out of here! The building is about to collapse!" He yelled up at the three who jumped off the Bounty the moment floor gave way under him.

"No! Use airjitzu and let's get out of here!" Cole yelled down at him.

"I-I can't!" He yelled, looking down at his awkwardly bent leg, knowing the only reason he wasn't in a world of agony was due to the adrenaline. "Go!" He yelled, panicked that these idiots would die with him here.

"No!" Jay yelled.

Both he and Cole looked startled when Zane hopped down to where Kai was, the building beginning to crunch around them.

"Go! I'll help him out!" Zane yelled, helping Kai up, careful of his obviously broken leg.

"No way!" Cole yelled then hopped in too after pushing Jay back for him to leave.

He took Kai's other hand as he gritted his teeth. What they didn't expect was Jay using his lightning to destroy a large piece of concrete about to fall on them.

"You idiots! How the hell are we supposed to get out of here?!" Kai yelled at them, the building rumbling as the ceiling got closer.

They looked around and up before Jay gasped.

"I have an idea."

__

"No!" Nya yelled, seeing the building collapse with the ninja nowhere in sight.

"No… It can't be. They couldn't have…" Lloyd whispered, in shock.

Wu solemnly slipped his rice hat off as a large cloud of dust rose up.

Tears filled Nya's eyes but then she frowned, spotting something. She gasped when the large, colourful vortex flew out of the smoke, towards the Bounty.

"It's them!" Lloyd gasped, spotting all four of them in the massive airjitzu funnel.

"Steady…" Zane says and they landed with a relatively gentle landing.

"Woah woah woah!" Kai yelled once Nya rushed over to hug him, making her stop.on her tracks, confused. "I'm glad to be alive too sis but uh, I don't think my leg can take any more sudden movements…" He says, sounding strained.

"He broke his leg. We need to get him to the nearest hospital." Cole says and Lloyd ran over to the wheel.

"On it."

_________

It was a relatively clean break through both his tibia and his fibula so Kai was put on some heavy meds for the pain and had his leg casted. Wu, Nya and Lloyd were filling his prescription, just to give them a chance clear the angry tension in the air.

"'fuckin' told yah to go…" Kai slurred angrily at them, only half there.

"Language Kai. And I would never leave any of you behind. I could have rescued him on my own." Zane says, shooting Cole and Jay a glare. "I'm a Nindroid. I can always be rebuilt. You two on the other hand-"

"Listen, I'm not about to let you talk shit like that." Cole says with a glare, pointing an accusing finger at Zane. "Yes, you're a Nindroid but that doesn't mean I'd sit idly by and let you fuck yourself up just because you 'can always be rebuilt'! I don't give a shit! I'm not about to let any of you unneededly suffer! Not while I can do something about it!" He says angrily.

"You on the other hand should have gone! You could have died!" He yelled, turning to Jay.

"Me?!" Jay sputtered. "You three morons could have died! If I wasn't there to think of of combining our powers, you would all have died! I'm not about to leave any of you behind, no matter what the hell is going on!" He yelled at them, knuckles white from how hard he was clenching his fist.

"We could have-"

"No you wouldn't have!" Jay snapped, cutting them off. "If jumping in that hole to save the people I love with all my heart makes me a bad person then so be it!" He yelled at them and they were all taken aback.

Jay panted heavily, glaring them down despite being confused why they were all looking at him like that. His own words ran into him like a freight train, making him gasp as he stepped back.

Shit!

"Wait… 'hut?" Kai slurred, trying to sharpen his current view of the world.

"F-forget I ever-"

"Do you… Do you mean it?" Cole asked, cutting him off as Jay's face heated up in embarrassment, seconds away from crying.

"N- I mean, yeah…" He says, looking away, rubbing his arm. "It's fine. I know you guys-"

"I feel the exact same way." Cole whispered and Jay looked at him, surprised and alarmed.

"You- you have feelings? For all of us? Both of you?" Zane asked, astonished and it was Cole's turn to go red as he and Jay nodded slowly. "... I didn't think it would have been possible you all felt the same way I do…" He says in awe, surprising the two and they began to get hopeful, excited even.

"Kai-" Cole cut himself off, seeing their friend fast asleep.

A fond expression crossed Cole, Zane and Jay's face, one they all caught but didn't have to hide. They were all in the same boat.

"I don't hear any yelling… Did something happen?" Nya asked as she walked in.

Zane, Cole and Jay shared lovestruck smiles.

"You could say so." Zane says lightly.

Nya and Lloyd suspicious traded looks.

"Perhaps it's about time we all head home." Wu says, pleased the tension has cleared up.

____________

Kai came to slowly, his head a little fuzzy but that was drowsiness. He heard talking close by. He tilted his head so he can look at the other side of the room. He had to blink a few times to make sure he was seeing right. Across from him, Cole was sitting on his bed with Jay in his lap, his arms wrapped tight around the smaller boy who had his eyes closed but he wasn't sleeping. Zane was sitting next to him, his chin on Cole's shoulder as his hand remained laced together with Jay's, both of them listening to Cole talk about the few years he spent at the Marty Oppenheimer School of Arts. Jay giggled at a joke he cracked then opened his eyes. He blinked once he made eye contact with Kai then grinned.

"You're awake!" All attention landed on him.

"Hey. How are you feeling?" Cole asked as they all made their way over.

"... Pretty good actually." He says, recalling what went down at the hospital. "So uh. Room for one more?" He asked them and he was basked in happy smiles and grins.

"Of course!" Jay says eagerly, his eyes bright as he began to pet Kai's hair.

"I was hoping you'd say that." Zane says with a humble but happy smile.

"Wouldn't be right without you." Cole says with a grin and Kai smiled back.

"Aren't I lucky to have three good looking boyfriends to call my own." He mused, grinning when they all blushed- Zane having blue tinting his cheeks.

"You're not too bad yourself." He says and they shared a laugh, spirits high and their hearts soaring even higher.

Cole watched them as they talked, keeping Kai entertained, his cast on a few cushions. Boyfriends. Somewhere along the line, he stopped worrying over whether or not having feelings for them made him gay or bi or even pan. He supposed it doesn't matter. As long as he had them. He smiled, lacing his and Kai's fingers together, joining in on the conversation.

As long as he was happy.

______________________

(Look who's back on mobile! The recent app update seemed to solve the problem. I'm glad considering my sister yeeted herself out of rhe country with her laptop. Anyway, this was supposed to be a fusion of pride week and a cute healing fic buttttt the healing would come in way too late so i decided to start a different fic for that. I hope you guys liked this!)

[jamkookies]

° Bon Voyage °

• Part VII •

Galaxies

~

"You let out one yell and I'll cut her," you hear the voice behind you say.

It's a feminine one.

Your skin goes cold to the touch and your hands start shaking.

Jungkook is frozen to the spot, terror in his eyes like you've never seen before.

He looks as if he's contemplating on whether to make a move or not.

The cold object slides from the back of your neck to the spot between your shoulders, but not without leaving a little nick first.

You try not to let out a sound but your face makes a pained expression.

It's a knife.

Jungkook takes a step forward, obviously alarmed by the sudden change , but your captor locks your head in her elbow, the knife now right under you throat.

You swallow, the blade waving under the motion and steal a glance at the face next to yours.

Smooth, porcelain skin and red lipstick.

The girl had sure taken her time preparing for this.

She looked oddly familiar but you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

"Don't you touch her," Jungkook growls.

"Oh, I'm not interested in her. You're the one I want."

You should've figured it out sooner.

The girl was a sasaeng, clearly part of the staff. This is why she looked familiar to you - you had seen her multiple times helping out on the backstage.

She was just using you to get to Jungkook.

You felt disgusted.

You had witnessed a lot of other extreme cases where fans would do anything just to be close to their favorites but this was over the top.

"Follow me," she says. "And no sudden movements."

Jungkook looks infuriated, hands shaking with the effort of not being able to do anything, but he still keeps calm.

The girl starts taking backward steps, pulling you along with her, knife still threatening to spill blood.

Jungkook slowly goes after you with his palms up, as if he's trying not to anger a wild animal.

You plead with your eyes to him, unspoken words between the two of you.

Run. Get away from here.

He doesn't.

Damn stubborn child.

You were fine with the thought of you being taken but if anything happened to him, you would never forgive yourself for it.

You walk for a couple more minutes, feet stumbling every time the girl pulls you harshly.

The sound of an engine is heard and you scan the view ahead when she turns you around , eyes still on Jungkook.

"Get in the car and don't try anything. The driver has a gun," she says, gesturing at him with a flick of her head.

This girl was beyond sick.

You couldn't even believe what you had both gotten yourselves into.

Jungkook obeys, getting into the front seat silently.

You go next, still under the girl's clutches.

There's a young man driving.

You can only look at his brown eyes in the front mirror which constantly move from side to side, analyzing every corner of his sight. He points a gun at Jungkook and his other hand holds the wheel.

"You better stay still, boy or I'm gonna have to use this."

"Don't call him a boy," the girl cries."He's a man."

You almost throw up.

There was nothing more you wanted to do right now except for smash her pretty little head into the window.

The driver starts the car.

"We'll leave her a few miles ahead," says the girl. "We don't need her anymore."

You start to panic.

They were gonna kill you.

They were gonna kill you and take Jungkook as their slave and you couldn't let that happen.

You bite the girl's hand with all the force you can muster. She shrieks in pain, letting go of the knife and you punch her in the face.

The man whirls around, but that's all the distraction Jungkook needs. He slaps the gun out of his hand and pulls the wheel towards himself.

The car swerves to the right.

"Y/N, get out!" Jungkook shouts, slamming the man's head right on the wheel and reaches for the handle.

You try to do the same, but a hand grips your hair roughly, pulling you back.

"Were do you think you're going?" the girl sneers.

"Screw you," you snap, and jab your knee into her nose.

She lets go, wailing in agony.

You pull the handle and jump out of the car.

Hard concrete meets your body, the impact rattling your bones as you roll around like a bowling pin.

The world is still spinning when you struggle to get up.

Jungkook limps to you and pulls you on your feet.

"Come on, we've gotta go," he says, breathing hard.

He grabs you by the hand and starts running straight for the forest.

You can barely keep up, the aftereffect of the jump still lingering.

Then, you hear a shot.

Jungkook stops abruptly and crumples onto the ground.

No!

You scream the word at the top of your lungs but you can't hear yourself.

There's a constant buzzing on your ears and you shake all over. It's like everything around you has blurred into nothingness and there's only him.

Jungkook groans and squeezes his thigh.

"I'm alright. It's just a scratch," he says, breathing hard. "Hey, hey..I'm alright. Don't stop."

He taps your cheek with his palm, trying to make you to focus.

You nod, mouth still agape.

He's alright he's alright he's alright-

You sling his arm over your shoulder and carry some of his weight, limping together to the copse of trees a little bit further.

You hear more shots but you don't dare turn your head not even for a moment.

"Stop it, you moron. You'll kill him."

It's the girl.

Now they're gonna chase after you, no doubt.

You don't falter for a second.

Heaving Jungkook with all your might you pray not to get caught.

You get into the woods, thorns and branches pulling at your clothes and slashing your skin mercilessly.

You are aware of the running steps behind you getting closer and closer and you will your heart not to rip out of your chest.

Don't stop don't stop don't stop-

You scan the forest, looking desperately for somewhere to hide.

Jungkook hisses in pain every time he leans on his bad leg.

You pull him even tighter, bearing almost all of his weight with clenched teeth.

Just a little bit more...

"Come on, hyung. Don't bail on me."

The ground slides under your feet and you lose balance, tumbling down a steep. Your arms detach themselves from Jungkook and you can't stop falling, no matter how hard you try to claw at the weeds on the ground.

After almost throwing up your dinner, you roll to a stop, limbs splayed out awkwardly.

Jungkook lays face - down just a little further, not able to move a muscle.

You crawl to him and flip him on his back, which only makes him groan in pain.

Clamping his mouth shut, you force him not to make a sound.

I'm sorry, your eyes seem to say.

You scan your sorroundings.

There's gotta be somewhere you can hide.

Your eyes catch sight of a massive tree, its roots holding the dirt into place.

The space underneath is hollow as a result of erosion.

A shelter.

With a grunt,you drag Jungkook up to his feet, the weight of him even heavier than before.

"Just a little bit further, hyung, please," you plead with a low voice.

He obeys, gathering strength from God knows where and makes a couple more steps.

When he finally reaches the hollow, Jungkook slumps into the ground like a sack of potatoes.

You crouch low under it and pull him in with you.

His breaths come out short and fast.

You flatten against the hollow, as you try to catch your breath.

"Where the hell did they go?" you hear the man's voice up the steep, followed by the rustle of dried leaves.

"This is all your fault," the girl says, her voice echoed by the faint breeze.

"If you had been more attentive, none of this would have happened."

"If I remember correctly the girl bit you first," the man snaps at her.

"Shut up. Do you know the struggle I had to go through all this time? I had to work my ass off all day just so I could take a glimpse of him. And tonight I even had to sneak a knife from the kitchen in order to be unnoticed."

"Yeah well,I don't care. I better get my money after all of this."

"You'll get your money when I get Jungkookie."

You fight down the urge to empty your stomach.

The steps keep getting further and further till you can't hear them anymore.

Jungkook takes a deep breath, relieved, and you snap your head to him, suddenly reminded of the situation you were in.

"Are you okay?" you ask him, pupils shaking as you examine his condition.

He leans on the wall of the hollow and props his leg under his other one to keep it steady. The fabric of his jeans is ripped in a horizontal line, revealing a hint of red.

Oh God.

You lift your shaking hands towards his thigh and experimentally touch it, earning a pained hiss from him.

"There's no bullet, don't worry," he says between breaths. "It barely grazed me. They were both obviously amateurs - the man even forgot to lock the car doors after we got in."

"He still shot you."

"I'm alright," he says and smiles reassuringly.

This time you don't hesitate and rip the fabric apart, catching him off guard.

"Ow...hey!"

"You said you were alright, didn't you?"

Taking a quick look, you notice a deep gash on his muscular thigh. It's not as deep as you thought it would be, but that still doesn't stop the blood from flowing.

Despite of all the chaos, panic and exhaustion, a surprising calmness has taken over you, making you focus on the task at hand with deep concentration.

Using your teeth and your bare hands, you tear apart a chunk of your loose tank top.

"Hey, what are doing?" Jungkook says, alarmed by your sudden action.

"Making sure you won't bleed out for the rest of the night."

"Why didn't you rip my shirt off?"

"I can't afford for you to get hypothermia. The wound will make your body heat drop faster than my grades from high-school."

He chuckles upon hearing that.

"How do you know all of this?"

"I've seen a lot of movies."

"And by the way," you continue, " are you willing to undress in front of me?"

"Anything for the ladies," he winks.

You just tighten the strip of cloth around his exposed thigh, brows scrunched up in concentration.

"You're surprisingly calm for someone who suffers from panic attacks," he says.

Your hands freeze.

You lift your eyes to stare at him, eyeing you suspiciously.

"How did you know?"

"I know everything about you," he answers and sweeps a look at you from head to toe.

You can't help the slight blush blooming on your cheeks, and the corners of your lips twitch.

"Well, we have been living for five years together, after all," you offer.

"It's not just that."

He looks at you through heavy-lidded eyes.

He was being bold.

He was being bold and straight-forward and you didn't know what to do about it.

The tension between you was thick and you could feel it.

It was because of the unusual situation you were both in, you supposed.

It hade made you both daring and impulsive.

As you tend to his wound, your fingers linger on the skin and he extends his hand towards yours.

The touch sends bolts of electricity piercing through you and you can't hide the slight tremor in your fingers.

"Y/N..."

You retract your hand and clear your throat.

"We better spend the night here. They might still be wandering around the forest, looking for us."

He nods and lowers his palms by his sides.

There's a deafening silence hanging in the air, broken only by the sound of far away thunder.

* * *

It had been raining for about some time now, but the hollow had proved to be a worthy shelter. There wasn't even a speck of water on the ground beneath you and you were grateful for that.

You had been drifting in and out of sleep, the exhaustion threatening to take over, but you forced your eyes open every time it happened. You had to guard Jungkook in case he got worse or those filthy bastards came back.

You throw a glance at him, leaning on the wall just a little further and you notice his teeth chattering.

He seems to have shrunk in himself, curled over like a ball, for as much as his leg would allow.

You approach him and put a hand on his forehead.

It's hot to the touch but he keeps shivering like a leaf in the wind.

This can't be good.

"Are you cold?" you ask him.

He nods.

You peek at his wound and notice that it has stopped bleeding.

It was just that the rain had lowered the temperatures considerably and that only made Jungkook's condition even worse.

You wish you could do something, but your clothes aren't exactly helping.

You were only wearing shorts and a ripped tank top, for Heaven's sake.

Having no other choice, you wrap him in your arms making an effort to share some body heat.

He doesn't object but only leans into your touch as your rub his arms and shoulders.

After some time, his teeth stop chattering, his body going back to its normal temperature, but he still doesn't let go, clinging onto you like a baby.

You wish you could stay like this forever, with him cradled into your arms like a second skin.

You play with his hair, twirling it in your finger and he doesn't miss the chance to capture your hand with his, intertwining your fingers.

The sudden action made your heart do a flip.

You loved him so much.

Yes, you finally admitted it.

You loved him like hell and the fact that it had taken you five years to understand it still remained a mystery.

You had once read a passage from a book which said that, sometimes, someone you had known all your life became no longer familiar to you, but strange in a marvelous way,as if you had discovered a beach you had been visiting all your life was made not of sand, but of diamonds that blinded you with their beauty.

Jungkook takes your hand into his lips and kisses it.

It's like butterflies encase your whole arm.

"What have you done to me?" you faintly whisper.

"I would like to ask you the same thing," he answers, staring at you intently.

His doe-like eyes sparkle in the darkness.

"You know that henna tattoo I made? It was for you, you know," you say.

He scowls, not quite understanding.

"You have galaxies in your eyes, Jeon Jungkook. And I've fallen deeply into them."

The smile that appears on his face brightens your whole vision.

There is nothing else, no one else but him right now.

He adjusts himself till he's sitting up and no one can prepare you for the words that leave his mouth as he embraces you, pulling you into his chest.

"I love you, Y/N."

[hildagirl99]

Volume 4 : Chapter 10: Truth and Broken Heart

Meanwhile, Hilda and Cagney search for Linda who "escaped" while Luna was talking.

"My god, in the middle of the night, you have to find her and quickly ..." Hilda said.

"You know, she may need her alone ..." Cagney responds.

"Yes, all these revelations must have hurt her, but she must be found before she falls somewhere."

Linda was a few miles away from them in the forest. She preferred to be alone but she got lost. All these trees were the same. Suddenly, a hand grabbed by the arm.

"Aaah, who is there?"

"Shhhhh, it's me, Fio."

"My god ... what are you doing here?" She said, panicked.

"I knew you would come, I sent you a letter in braille, so that we find ourselves here, I quickly finished my speech to find you." said Fio, taking her with him.

"Huh, but I did not get a letter ..." said Linda, confused.

"Oh ... oh ... no importance, you're here."

"Where are we going ?" Does request.

"Behind closed doors." He answers Fio.

Linda starts to stress, because a few minutes ago, thanks to Hilda, in her anger, she learned that Fio was her nephew. To say that she had a crush on him, she wanted to talk to him about it but her words are stuck in her. They stop outside the forest. He positions himself in front of her.

"It's not for nothing that I took you here, I'd like to tell you something." Said Fio, sure what he means. Not far from there, Cagney and Hilda had found them but they remain hidden behind a tree, observing them.

"My god, Fio ... he's about to confess his feelings ..."

"Cagney, you have to stop them, otherwise, they're going to make a big mistake." Said Hilda, anxious.

"I think I love you ..." Fio said putting his hand on Linda's cheek.

She remains frozen. Not knowing what to say.

"But ... Fio, I ... I'm too old for you, you deserve so much better, and then I'll only have problems with my disability ..."

"Age does not matter…"

"But you are a leader, you deserve better than me!"

"But it's you I love, Linda, I don't care what other people can say, I'm sure it's reciprocal for you, don't deny it."

"I can't Fio, I'm ..." ready to tell him the truth, she feels Fio come closer to her face.

"Just let me kiss you." He said getting closer and closer. Their lips were only a few inches until ...

"Nooo !! Fio !! Don't do this !!" Cagney comes running towards his son. Fio jumps.

"Daddy, Mom, but ... what are you doing here?"

"It's not important ... you can not be with her!" Said Cagney, exhausted.

"What are you talking about, why?"

"Fio, what I'm going to tell you will definitely hurt you, the love between you and Linda is impossible." Said Hilda.

"How so ... you don't want me to be happy?"

"It's not our intention, listen ... Linda is ... my sister." She says.

"Huh ??" Crit it. He looks at Linda who is looking at the floor.

"Linda ... tell me it's not true!"

"I ... I'm sorry, I tried to tell you, I learned it today, you're my nephew, and I'm your aunt." Said Linda, she wanted to cry. Hilda takes her in her arms.

"I'm sorry ... I wanted you to learn it differently." Hilda whispered.

"Sorry if we could not tell you earlier." Said Cagney.

Fio, remains frozen, unable to speak. He was in love with his own aunt without knowing it.

"Why did not you tell me!" He said furiously.

"We thought you knew it, but when you told us who you were in love with, we tried to tell you, but we did not want to hurt you."

"My god ... but you realize that, if the villagers learn it, I will be accused of incest!"

"Come on, calm down, you did not do anything with her! we all have our share of responsibility, nobody knows it for the moment, except us, it's still a secret." He said, taking him in his arms.

"Leave me ... I need to be alone ..." Fio said, pushing him away. And he goes back to the castle.

"That was to be expected…"

"Sorry, Linda, I wish you'd learned it differently." Said Hilda still holding Linda in her arms, she sobs.

"All our life was based on lies and secrets, 49 years old I did not know I had a sister, 7 years old I know Fio, I thought I loved him, but you arrived on time, we could have made a big mistake. "

"Shh, I'm here, now nothing will separate us." Hilda said kissing her forehead.

"At last, the time that Fio accepts reality ... the poor man's heart is broken."

Indeed, back in the castle, in his room, Fio refuses to see whoever it is, he locked himself in his room. At bedtime, Oswald challenges Hilda.

"Hilda, what happened, did you find Linda?"

"Yes, don't worry, but the truth hurt, just like Fio, he learned it was his aunt."

"The truth hurts, I can quite understand."

"He needs time, too," she said, yawning.

"I don't hold you back, go rest too."

"Thank you, do you think that will be when you can tell the villagers that I'm Luna's daughter?"

"Not for the moment, the penultimate day, certainly, I'll be at your side."

"Thank you, Oswald."

She turns around and says:

"Good night, and thank you, I got the answers to my questions." She closes the door.

Oswald is moved, although he tries to hide it. He felt he was doing his homework properly. The next day, the atmosphere in the dining room is cold and noiseless, still upset revelations last night.

"Well, please, we're not going to be crazy about that." Hilda said breaking the silence.

"Easy to say ... I'm just disappointed." Fio answers.

"Ok, maybe I should have told you before, as soon as I arrived, that Linda was my sister, but Oswald asked me not to say anything."

"In fact, if I understand, it's Oswald's fault, is that it?" He did not tell us anything before, and why?

"I don't know, but I'm sure it was not his intention, but the most important thing is that everything is said, and that I finally discovered the answers to my questions."

"Fio, Linda, don't worry about that, after all, we're family, right?" Said Cagney.

"Linda ... I'm sorry if I was insistent on you, especially that night."

"I don't blame you, I am glad that you are my nephew, I may have preferred that you are someone other than a member of the family to love you." Linda said, ironically.

Fio smiled at him and laughed.

"Hehe, forget it, I'll always be there for you, always united."

"Aaah, it's so much better when everything is settled." Said Hilda

"Let's enjoy these last days together." Said Cagney cuddling everyone.

Oswald looks at them behind the window, and nods a little, it reminds him of what he lost some time ago.

"Ooh how cute, a happy and united family, is not that what you would like to recover?" Said an icy, muffled voice. Oswald freezes and understands who is talking to him, he presses his pace to hide, out of sight.

"What do you want from me again ... You've made me suffer enough already."

A black mist is taking shape: it was the devil himself.

"So, still not decided to see your family again, did you think about my proposal?" He said with a chuckle.

"I will not give up my soul, I want to be with my wife and my son ..." Oswald snapped.

The devil turns around him, he looks for his words.

"Mmmh very well, since you do not want to give your soul, maybe someone else will do."

"What do you mean ?"

"I see you have the whole Berg family."

"Huh...?"

"I'm not done with this family, I'll have the last Berg."

"But what do you want in the end?" Oswald said, raising his voice.

"The Berg sisters will do the trick ... I want them!"

"No, I forbid you to hurt them, otherwise ..." Oswald said in a fighting position. But the devil catches his arm.

"Or what, to honor your beloved dead Queen, are you afraid of disappointing her?" Said the devil smiling maliciously.

"You had a lot of admiration for her, even feelings, did not you, she was a pretty woman."

"Shut up, I was more than just a counselor for her, I was her dearest friend, and so was her husband!"

"Pffff pathetic ... But that's not important, I offer you a deal: give me the sisters Berg and I'll give you back your family."

Oswald closes his eyes, frustrated.

"Never."

(colo @yonnichan-art )

"Oh, what a pity, to say they could not wait to see you again." Said the devil, revealing a crystal ball, inside, Oswald's wife and son are calling for help. A feeling of fear and anger boils Oswald's heart.

"They are healthy and well treated."

And he makes the crystal ball disappear into a thousand pieces.

"Still not convinced If you still refuse, they will disappear like this crystal ball, poof!"

"You are a monster…"

"You choose, the Berg sisters, or your family, and then what do you have to lose, your dear queen is no longer of this world, she will not judge you, hehe."

Oswald shakes his fists, facing the worst choice of his life.

"Give me the Berg sisters, in exchange your family will be safe, and you will be reunited ..." the devil repeats in a dark and threatening voice.

He does not have a choice.

"Okay ... I ... I'll give them to you ..." he said with disgust.

"Very well, tomorrow at midnight, in the royal square, you'll be there, with them, warned or not."

"The royal place, but ... everyone will see you!"

"And then - everyone will know that you are a traitor, and that you have revealed yourself by mistake, the place where the people of the mountain lived." Said the devil mocking him, and in a sneer, he disappears into the ground, in smoke.

Oswald falls on his knees, his face in his hands, unable to believe what he has just done. He has no choice, he must present himself with Hilda and Linda on the royal square, tomorrow at midnight.

Will he really do it?

To be continued~

[docgorpywrites]

God had Flowers in His Hair

They lay, the pair of them, in a small patch of wildflowers far away from the doctor's mansion, across the creek on a rowboat and up a hill behind a smattering of trees and a large boulder. As far away from prying eyes as they could muster.

Merriell was lazily picking the petals off a flower, the stems of those he had finished with lay on his exposed stomach. His shirt was open and on his chest formed beads of sweat. It was a hot summer afternoon in the middle of July. A cigarette hung limply from his mouth, the ash was getting long, almost threatening to drop down onto him and burn his skin. He continued his work.

Eugene lay beside him, puffing on his pipe. His mouth was full of smoke as he warned Merriell about the blister he could get if he didn't flick the ash off his cigarette properly. Merriell, being very much himself, ignored him. Eugene took it upon himself to remove the cigarette from his mouth and stub it against the boulder.

"Light me anotha, will ya, Sledge," was all Merriell murmured back.

Eugene scoffed, but obeyed all the same, he took a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket. He didn't even know why he still had them on him when he already had his pipe, but looking towards the man on his left, he remembered. He took one in his mouth and lit it. He brought the lit smoke to Merriell's own mouth and the man hummed in appreciation.

"What'cha doin' anyway?" Eugene finally asked.

"Countin' Japs," was the curt reply. Eugene raised a brow, looking Merriell square in the face, to which he just laughed. "I'm kiddin', don't worry ya pretty lil' head none, boo."

"If you say so." Eugene knew better than to probe him any further. Sometimes Merriell did things for no reason at all.

He got off his elbows and sunk back into the wildflowers. The sun burned his eyes so he shut them, his shirt stuck to his chest so he opened it up. The relief it brought made him comfortable enough to fall asleep.

He was woken up, minutes later, by a heavy load on his stomach. He almost threw whatever it was that was on top of him into the boulder behind him in defense. His eyes adjusted, thankfully, before he could even get a strong enough grip on Merriell's shirt. Eugene squinted up at him, rays of the sun streamed past him through his hair and the thin material of his shirt.

"The fuck's a'matter with you, Snaf? Tryin' to give me a heart attack?"

Merriell reached wordlessly with both hands into his pockets and let loose a flurry of flower petals down onto Eugene's wild-eyed face. Eugene's gaze softened at this, but his confusion still stitched his brow up into furrows. A petal landed on his lips and Merriell leaned down to blow it away, with his breath came out the smoke from his cigarette. A kiss was planted firmly onto his lips. Eugene felt his blood rush to his ears, his hold on Merriell's shirt tightened. Merriell lifted himself off of Eugene, breaking the kiss abruptly.

"You sure know how to rile me up, don'tcha?" Eugene laughed up at him.

Merriell stared into his eyes, not smiling back, not bothering to close his mouth either, huffing. "Sorry, just checkin'."

Eugene's smile faded, "For what?"

"Checkin' to see if you're the real thing, is all."

Eugene collided up into him and switched their positions, now he was the one on top, his legs to the side and his arms resting on the grass at either side of Merriell's shoulders. Flower petals swirled around them, some of them still stuck in Eugene's hair. "'Course I'm real, the hell you on about?"

"How can I even begin to believe that, what with ya sittin' there all pretty lookin' with flowers in your hair." Merriell finally laughed, gazing up at Eugene like he was some kind of god. Maybe he was.

It had taken Merriell half of spring to find a Eugene Sledge in Mobile, Alabama. He had set out one April morning, once he had gathered enough money for the train fare. Being a war veteran did little for him by way of financial supplementation. He had regretted leaving Eugene on the train home the moment he woke up, barely the next day, and Eugene wasn't there to comfort him while he suffered from a particularly excruciating bout of the shakes. He sat there, shell shocked, as copious amounts of sweat dripped down from his brow. His bed was wet with sweat and tears, and everytime he tried to close his eyes, he was in hell again. That was it, he looked for a job that same day and didn't stop working until he had enough money for a trip to Mobile.

Merriell found Eugene at the end of May, showing up at the Sledge Household right before Memorial day. Eugene had answered the door with dirty hands and equally dirty denim overalls. He was wiping his face off with a lace handkerchief, laughing, "I'll get it, ma!" He had yelled into the foyer.

They both stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, until Merriell broke the silence.

"Sledgehamma."

"Snaf—" Eugene's voice cracked and he took a second to clear his throat, "—what brings you?" He finally managed.

"Sleep." Merriell answered honestly. "Haven't been gettin' any since."

Eugene looked fixedly at him before confessing, "Me neither."

Merriell hadn't left since. The good doctor and

Missus Sledge were kind enough to put him up in the  best guest room in the house. 'Anything for a war veteran and a good friend o' Gene's.' But the guest room was barely used. They spent the summer sneaking around at night so they could sleep in one bed, it was the only way they could get a good night's sleep. This arrangement brought to light several unanswered questions that had arose during their run in the war, and after, for that matter, when they served together in China. There was always something between them, but the brutality of war and the general stigma around such a relationship between two men—two Marines at that, left little for those questions to be answered. Now, they had all the time in the world, and nobody to judge them but themselves.

When Merriell settled down from his laughter, Eugene leaned in for another kiss. He was blushing by the time he pulled away, just one thought ricocheting around in his head.

"Marry me." It had slipped out of Eugene's mouth like butter on a hot pan, but he wasn't ashamed.

Merriell simply looked up at him, a ghost of a smile on his lips, the corners of his shocked open mouth twitching up. There was happiness along with reluctance in the way Merriell stared at him, not really knowing what to say. Eugene was red from the tips of his ears all the way down to his chest, and was searching Merriell's eyes for an answer.

"O'course," he finally got out, "but how? Ain't no pastor or preacher a thousand miles from here gonna marry us. Especially not in the South."

Eugene couldn't help but kiss him again, more deeply and more fervently this time, nearly crushing his face between his hands. Merriell hung on for dear life, tangling his tan fingers up in Eugene's copper hair. They parted, and Eugene smiled down fondly at him, brushing a flower petal stuck to Merriell's forehead away.

"Oh, we'll find a way. We always do."

They got married one cold autumn morning, a week before Eugene's birthday. He regarded it as the best birthday present he'd ever gotten, since Deacon anyway. Eugene knew a former soldier up in Washington County who had become a preacher man. He had fought in the war with Edward Sledge Jr. and was more than willing to officiate the wedding. It was not legal in any sense of the word, but the papers they signed and the small, beautiful ceremony (with Dr. and Mrs. Sledge, Edward, and Sidney Phillips in attendance), made it real enough for the both of them.

The attendance of Eugene's folks was not achieved without screaming and crying and maybe a bit of roughing up, however. When Eugene told his parents, he put his mother first, to break the ice. Lord, how she cried. But she admitted nonetheless that she had had an inkling about his preferences as she watched him growing up. Eugene held her in his arms after she finally gave them her tight-lipped blessing. If her son was happy, she would be happy.

His father was another story. Doctor Sledge was not a violent man by any means, he had never lifted a hand on Eugene in all his twenty-two years, except on that day when his son had told him that he was going to marry a man. Eugene had earned himself a heavy slap to the cheek, which surprised him. Not because of the pain or the fact that his father had hit him, but because he had expected more. It might have been the fact that he had spent the previous years being thrown around violently across numerous battlefields, by explosions booming left and right. Regardless, Eugene didn't retaliate, he merely touched the back of his fist to his stinging cheek and apologized to his father. The good doctor had gripped the edge of his desk, white-knuckled and red-faced, breathing through his nose and restraining himself.

"Father," Eugene had pleaded with him. "I love him."

His father bristled at his words, but then relaxed after a few moments of bated breath for Eugene. Doctor Sledge turned to face his son, and finally offered his hand to him, much in the same way Eugene had offered his own when his father finally allowed him to go to war. Eugene saw tears in his father's eyes, took his extended hand and pulled his father in for a loving embrace, the first since he was a boy. His father had whispered over Eugene's shoulder that he was proud of the man he had become, and that he deserved to be happy, however and with whomever he pleased. 

Edward and Sidney couldn't care less, and were just happy for him. But of course, their general acceptance and congratulations did not come without the standard issue, run-of-the-mill teasing that came with being military servicemen. Edward had quipped, "I'm fine with it as long as you lemme be your maid of honor."

Not one to be outdone, Sid had contributed, "I for one, would like to be one o' them pretty little flower girls."

As happy as Eugene was with how generally well-received his news had been, Merriell was not as lucky. Letters he had sent home to Louisiana about the announcement (not without much coaxing from Eugene and his mother), had gone unreplied, not even an angry letter back, which Merriell had first anticipated. In the end, with a tone of surprise from everybody who was there to witness it, Doctor Sledge had stood up from his place on the large armchair in the living room, poured three glasses of the finest scotch he owned, passed them around, and said to Merriell, "I'll give you away, son." 

The two young men, hardened from war, stood there, reduced to a sobbing mess, embracing each other, embracing Eugene's father, to which the old man just chuckled jovially at. Merriell was so bold as to even plant the tiniest bud of a kiss on Doctor Sledge's cheek, which was received by Doctor Sledge with a reddening of his face. The tips of his ears had flared up, and Merriell suddenly knew where Eugene inherited his easily flushed complexion.

The day finally came, Merriell was all gussied up in his dress blues, Eugene had donned a simple but handsome suit, making good on his promise to himself not to wear a uniform ever again. Merriell had put flowers in Eugene's hair, just like the day he proposed. Everything was good and beautiful and wonderful and finally right in the world, and Merriell would never lose sleep again.

[fiti-vation]

Hi! I wanna run a marathon sometime this year, but I'm currently an unfit blob. Do you think it's possible or am I being unrealistic? I know nothing about running. Thanks!

Hi dear,

Sorry for the late reply, I hope you’re doing well.

Since, I don’t know what your current fitness level, this will be a general answer to your question.

The marathon is a difficult distance to master, no matter if you’re a bucket-list runner whose only goal is to cross the finish line, or if you’re a competitive runner on the hunt for a personal best. Even the most seasoned marathoners have no idea what their marathon times will be. Think about it-setting a finish time is a little like picking the winning lottery numbers because there are so many variables that can affect your performance: wind, rain, cold, heat, humidity, etc. Everything-from an ache in your calf to a hotspot on your foot to that cup of water you missed at the last fluid station-is heightened when you cover 26.2 miles on foot, but that’s part of the lure of the marathon. If it were easy, the accomplishment wouldn’t be as coveted.

It is definitely possible to run a marathon as long as you not scared of getting out of your comfort zone. If you stay in your comfort zone, you’re not going to do anything special. A comfort zone is a beautiful place, but nothing ever grows there. Running challenges, you.

The key to running a strong first marathon is to remember the three “P’s”: Preparedness, Patience and Perseverance.

Preparedness: Mental toughness

As I have discussed in previous posts the first step to any fitness goals is mental wellbeing.  Those who’ve been following me for years know that I am a huge advocate of mental discipline. Most of us think that it is our body that will get the job done when it fact it is our mind. If you’re not right mentally you will never perform well physically. Mental Toughness is really what will get you to the finish line. The body achieves what the mind believes! 

If you’re just getting into running, the first obstacle to overcome will be yourself. Getting through the first couple of months will be the most difficult because most people’s brains aren’t hardwired to have exercise every day. But sticking with it and exercising every day, after a couple of months your brain will be reprogrammed to expect you to get out and exercise every day. After that, it’s much easier to make the time and find motivation to go for a run or walk.

Having once weighted 220 pounds myself and suffered from class 2 obesity, I can attest that the first couple of months are horrible. You’ll probably see very little in the way of results and you’ll wonder why the hell you are bothering. You’ll get tired and you’ll get sick of it and you might lose your motivation. Just remember that it will get easier at the end of those first couple of months. While you’re establishing that routine, it’s really important to be kind to yourself. Don’t look at the scales, don’t worry about your times, don’t focus on running a marathon. Just focus on establishing a regular fitness routine. Commit to exercising every day regardless of what the outcome is over those first three months let’s say. That’s all! Just as you can’t start with a 250-lb deadlift, you can’t jump into training at an 8-minute mile. If you want to make it past a week of training you have to mentally and physically slow down.

While working on your mental toughness, also take this time to find yourself as a runner. Do you prefer training indoors or outdoors? It’s a lot easier to jump off a treadmill vs. running outdoors where giving up means you’ll still have to walk home. Are you a team player or a soloist? Find a running buddy who is just a little bit faster than you to keep you challenged, otherwise work on an awesome playlist to keep you pumped throughout your run. And find your solemate-stop by a running store to analyze your gait and find the proper sneaker (turns out the stability, cushioning shoe I splurged on would help ease shin splits for my overpronating feet).

To conclude here, I would also recommend that you start mastering the power of visualization. On several nights before going to bed, or first thing in the morning, visualize yourself crossing the finish line as the clock shows a new personal best. Before the 2004 Olympic Marathon Trials, where Wells placed seventh, she replayed positive mental images before falling asleep at night. “I knew the course we would be running, and I’d see myself out on it running well,” she says. “There’s a hill in the 25th mile, and I’d say to myself, ‘Okay, get up that hill, and then run strong to the finish.’”

Personally, I utilize self-talk and positive thinking. Self-talk is all about encouraging yourself, especially when things are starting to get tough. If I am hurting during a race, I tell myself that the other runners are probably hurting just as bad, if not more. When it comes to positive thinking, I think it is a good technique to use in running and in life. Even when things are not going well, there is a better day tomorrow. But you have to work for a better day, not just hope for one.

Mental limits will hinder you far behind physical limits will. Trust your training, trust your body.

Preparedness: Fitness Assessment

Before you start running you should start your new training cycle by assessing your current level of fitness. Many coaches have their runners complete a detailed self-assessment of their strengths and weaknesses as a runner, what types of runs they do and don’t enjoy, as well as previous PRs and reactions to training cycles. Look back at your training log to help complete your own self-assessment.

Preparedness: Training/Recovery

After that you’ve assessed your fitness level

choose a plan based on your fitness level

. Focused running is more important than long useless mileage. Longer endurance events need more aerobic work than shorter events. The key is to not overtrain. Make sure you are logging workouts to assess your volume week-by-week, month-by-month and year-by-year.

Your training plan should gradually build weekly mileage and the distance of the long runs. This slow-but-steady buildup allows you to get stronger and go longer, without getting hurt or burned out. Some days you’ll want to add more miles, but it’s best to stick to the plan.

Each week, you should do a long run to develop the endurance you’ll need to cover the race distance. On these runs, focus on covering the mileage for the day, and forget about pace. Take walk breaks to stay energized throughout.

There are a bunch of running schedules you can find online (like the ones from Hal Higdon, for example), but accept the fact that it’s OK to modify based on your ability and schedule, and set realistic, achievable goals in terms of mileage and pace. I have included one below.

Keep the training fun: mix it up with different length runs and a variety of speeds.

Build up gradually to a long run of more than 20 miles but less than 24, preferably over several months of a crescendo, adding two to three miles per week to the distance.

If you don’t have time to build up gradually, work in “brick” sessions where you run long on two sequential days so that the total is a marathon and your legs and mind know what it is like to run tired.

Avoid injury and illness by monitoring your body and addressing niggles when they are merely warning signs. Massage, ice, cross-training, a strong core, proper rest and recovery, shoes that match your running form and aren’t overly worn, a healthy diet, and a smart training schedule will all help in that quest.

Use ice baths to recover after longer runs and avoid massages before the big event-but feel free to make an appointment now for a few days after the race (a sports massage one or two days after the event could help speed up recovery).

Make Smart Adjustments to Your Training Plan The most difficult aspect of a bad workout is deciding how to proceed once you know it’s not your day. The two best options: slow the pace, and if that doesn’t work, stop the workout entirely. When you’re struggling this much to hit times for a workout, it’s better to regroup, put the workout behind you, and just move forward with the training. It’s important that you do not try to make up a workout the next day. This throws off the balance of the training program.

Note that when training for a marathon do not only focus on cardio. Don’t skimp on the strength training! It’s so important for injury prevention and goes a long way to help with both speed and endurance. Learning proper glute activation for any hills on the course will allow you to expend far less energy than if you were powering through with your calves, while lateral movements will help strengthen your hip and knee stabilizer muscles.

Preparedness: Nutrition/Eat well

In order to run your best, it’s important to have a balanced diet. About half your daily calories should come from carbohydrates, like whole grains, fruits, and vegetables. About a quarter of your calories should come from lean protein, like dairy, lean meats, beans, and legumes. The remainder should come from heart-healthy fats like olive oil and avocados. I would recommend that you read about the science of carb loading.

PRACTICE EATING ON THE RUN: You’ll need to refuel every 30 to 45 minutes during the race, so on your long runs, experiment with different brands and flavors of sports drinks, gels, and chews to find out which one sits best in your stomach. Be sure to try out the brand and flavor that will be offered at the race.

Plan out your hydration and nutrition strategy to get you comfortable through the entire distance. Find out what electrolyte drink they’ll have on the course and make sure it works for you. If not, find a solution, such as carrying your own or using salt tabs.

According to the latest science, the best way to fuel your body through a marathon is to drink enough fluid to keep your thirst consistently under control, and to consume at least 60 grams of carbohydrates per hour. There is more than one way to fulfill these recommendations. The specific way that’s best for you depends on how your body responds to nutrition intake while running.

Preparedness: Stay committed to your goal

No matter how big or small your goal-whether it’s losing 5 or 50 pounds, walking a mile or running your first marathon-making change requires planning and S.M.A.R.T. goal setting.

Specific - target a specific area for improvement.

Measurable - quantify or at least suggest an indicator of progress.

Assignable - specify who will do it.

Realistic - state what results can realistically be achieved, given available resources.

Time-related - specify when the result(s) can be achieved.

Be SMART is an acronym championed by everyone from the University of Virginia to MIT to Fortune 500 companies for how to set actionable goals. Objectives should be Specific, Measurable, Accountable, Realistic and have a Timeframe. Specific goals will keep you accountable. “Lose weight” is too vague. “Lose 15 pounds in six months” gives you much more direction and allows you to have a way to measure your progress. 

Be consistentOnce you’ve set your goal, you need to come up with a plan that emphasizes consistent effort. The idea of goal-setting is to challenge yourself each time you set out to work toward your larger goal. Setting up smaller, intermediate check points will help you track your progress and keep you motivated to work out on a regular basis. Remember: slow and steady wins the race. Small wins equate to big results. When people set out to run a marathon, they don’t immediately run 26.2 miles. They increase their mileage every week. Channel that same mentality as you set up a plan that allows you to realistically achieve your goal.

Patience:

Above everything else - nutrition, training programs, sneakers, etc. - being patient is the most important quality to possess. Running is an extremely humbling sport that breaks even the best runners. If you are patient and give yourself time to adjust to a routine and to build on the previous week’s work, then you will be able to accomplish your goals in due time.

Running your first marathon is all about conquering the distance, not beating the clock. It’s a way to establish your marathon fitness, which you can continue to build on and improve in future races.

Perseverance:

As a final word, I’d like to say here that running is not just about fitness and competition; it’s about changing our lives. Most of us run because it makes us feel significant, powerful, and in control, not just because we want to compete. When people who have never had a sense of accomplishment before suddenly gain it, it transforms every aspect of their lives. They become increasingly fearless. People always realize they can do more when they first do something at all. Confidence grows, and with it, so does vision.

I hope this was helpful.Cheers, Steph :)