#(Me when the small morsel of pastry content-)

[makerofmadness]

*disappears off the face of tumblr* *reappears just to post this one thing*

So on discord (where I am now predominately active) besties and I got a bit uh Quirky resulting in. Epic CRK Leak /j:

[muppeteyes1001]

Kitt felt for Tokoyami's issues concerning societal control wholeheartedly. Their experiences may not have been quite the same, but just the simple distain towards total governmental power made to mostly benefit the higher ups was very much mutual. As far as the superpowers that were obviously a major factor here in Japan, the only thing that the felinoid could relate to in that part was through the experiences with her young deer friend, Lucy.

As of late, the little fawn girl had .. on several occasions .. unexpectedly predicted or seen certain things that she couldn't really explain ... Almost like, some sort of 'foresight'. Either way, it never truly bothered Kitt .. However, there were other people within her city that were quick to label the poor girl as a 'peculiar' .. Or even a 'witch', in much harsher terms .. And it would always irritate the cat woman to no end.

Not wanting to dwell on those things right now, Kitt let her mind calm a bit so that she can focus on her the avian teen's questions. Seeing how intrigued he had become with her device had managed to place a small smile back on the felinoid's face. Being one that tends to feed into her curiosities, she could relate to the young hero in-training .. And she was content to explain more about her little dimensional hopping trinket.

"I suppose it does sound like somethin' a child would've made up, in a way" she responds to the boy's comment with a soft chuckle before continuing. "An' unlike most of you folks here, I don't have any sort of natural born powers .. I'm just a simple traveler who's got a rather flashy an' convenient way of gettin' around is all" Kitt muses before sipping her ice mocha.

When Tokoyami asked if she was interested in returning home or not, the cat woman licked her lips before setting her drink back down.

"Usually after I use it, I'll give it a bit of a cool down for maybe a day or so, depending ... It can be quite the tricky little bugger ta repair, so I'd rather not risk overdoing it after a jump" she began as she tore a peace of her croissant.

"As for me wantin' ta go back home .. Honestly, I'm usually out an' about .. I tend ta go home only if I'm feelin' really exhausted or if I have any business that needs to be takin' care of" Kitt answers before popping the pastry morsel into her mouth.

"So I do plan on hangin' around for a spell .. Not in that much of a hurry ta get back to Dawnsburgh, really .... Hence, why I tend ta travel a lot .. Not only is it very enjoyable for me ta see new things an' meet new folks ... But it also gives me a nice breath of fresh air away from all the city's hullabaloo"

Listening to Tokoyami talk of his brotherly bond with Dark Shadow, Kitt couldn't help but chuckle and be amused with it all. She had no true siblings herself, but she did have a close friend who she had always seen as a brother .. And like any other siblings, there had been many times when they had gotten on each other's nerves and would butt heads just because of their different ideals. Nonetheless, they still cared for each other at the end of the day. Thinking back on those fond memories did make the felinoid feel a tad melancholy. It has been a long while since she had seen or heard from him.

As the avian teen discussed about how the super powered folks are regulated by those higher up, the cat woman narrowed her wintergreen eyes slightly, giving a knowing hum. It reminded her somewhat of how society back in Dawnsburgh is run. Mostly by a bunch of old fashioned blokes who stubbornly hold on to old fashioned beliefs on how a city should be run and how it's citizens should act. And 'shockingly' .. at least not to her .. there was usually some sort of corruption or under the table deals that go on behind the scenes. She very much sympathizes with her young friend and his school mates.

"I see" she replies, leaning back slightly in her seat. "Unfortunately, there are many places that function that way in some degree .. Mine, included ... So I don't blame you at all for feelin' the way ya do .. It's very much valid" Kitt comments in a mildly bitter tone before taking another sip of her latte. Her own experiences dealing with corrupt judges and police over the years had pretty much solidified her personal feelings towards most people who 'follow the law'.

Thankfully, the topic would quickly switch up into something lighter and more palatable. When Tokoyami became curious of her special little trinket and how it supposedly brought her to Japan, the felinoid was only happy to talk to him about it. It may not look as impressive at first glance, but that would change once she gently popped open it's cover to show the watches face. He would see six pairs of hands .. Not just one ... All in six different colors of the rainbow.

"Well I wouldn't exactly say it'd take me where I want, necessarily ... For much of the time I've had this watch, it's only been able ta take me to only a handful of places ... Depending on which color of the hands I wind to twelve" Kitt explains as she points out the multiple colored hands on the watches face.

"You see, other than the gold pair of hands here .. which simply just gives me the time ... the other hands will send me to a certain place .. For example, the orange one will take me back home to Dawnsburgh .. And the red one here takes me to .. Well .. A kingdom far aways from here" the felinoid continued, though decided not to delve too far into that. She was pretty sure that that would be a bit too much for him to absorb in one shot.

"However ... over this past year ... my watch seems ta have gained more power .. An' as of late, it's been sendin' me to new places simply by winding the hands in a certain way .. No matter the color". She then pointed out the three dials on the side of the watch.

"I just happened ta be testin' out a new winding pattern with it .. An' before I knew it .. I was here" Kitt concludes, gesturing around with her hand a bit. She then sighs, feeling a bit sheepish as this was probably a load of unbelievable information that she just dropped on the poor boy.

"Look! .. I understand if all this just sounds like .. absolute madness ... Believe me, I probably would've thought the same if I was in your shoes right now"

[shibaraki]

tags: GN reader, angst (sorry), references to eating / love as consumption, heavily implied break up, gojo isn’t a dick ok he can’t help that his heart was already eaten

wc: 1k

The window panes are dappled with rain. Your eyes single out a droplet in the ever growing silence and follows as it races to the sill, gathering into a small puddle. Orange and red embers dance on the shallow waters surface as the sun dips. You shiver as a breeze whistles against your bicep, the damp chill seeping through and expanding the cracks.

“What are you doing here?”

He had entered without a sound, but you could feel him anywhere. There was an intensity that followed him into every room, static perforating the air. His footfalls are unsettlingly light. The crinkling of thin paper. Lingering in your periphery, he weighs the little white bag between each hand, idly ironing out the creases with his thumbs.

There is a sense of accomplishment that comes with leaving a man like Gojo Satoru uncertain.

Wordlessly, he hands it to you. It’s hot, soft under the pressure of your fingers. Opening the top of the paper bag, you discover a golden brown crust and the sweet scent of chocolate. A pastry. One of your favourites.

Spoken so plainly, as if three honest words were all the explanation he needed to offer, “I miss you”.

You settle back in your chair with a deflating exhale. The small victories bleed from your body, and fatigue sets in. Swallowing a retort, you slide the pasty out gently.

I miss you, he said. The surface breaks under your fingertips and you feel it echo in your chest, jagged pieces flaking off into your lap. Covetous, you pull it apart to get to the syrupy centre where it is warmest. If you were to pull Satoru apart, what would you find?

A well crafted illusion, carefully orchestrated to keep you contented and none the wiser. Over and over again he would proffer little puzzle pieces to sate your impatience — you comforted yourself with the thought that the rest of him would surely come to you with time.

It never did.

The silence is punctuated by a soft pitter patter as the afternoon sinks into the beginnings of a dewy evening. Satoru moves to grab another chair from the far end of the classroom, and you bring the pastry to your mouth while you wait, tearing the morsel with your teeth. It’s smooth and buttery, slowly melting on your tongue.

With the twist of his wrist, the chair is spun mid air as he returns. He saddles it backwards, folding both arms atop the cresting rail with his long legs folded beneath and tapping the toe of his shoes. You know by now this means ‘I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me’.

Accepting his presence, you surrender the second half of the pastry to him. When he takes it you deftly avoid his touch. “Are you mad at me?” he murmurs, tearing the dough into two quarters without fanfare, and again giving you a square of it back before eating his own whole. Muffled between full cheeks, happily humming at the taste.

“How many times are we going to do this to each other?” you frown, measuring the little square between your thumb and forefinger. “Why can’t you just leave it be?”

Satoru licks the crumbs from the corner of his mouth and retains his faux air of nonchalance. It’s far easier to do with his mask tied firmly around his eyes. You might see his true feelings there, if he’d let you. He lets out an exaggerated, satisfied breath upon finishing, and his head lifts with a small smile.

“You’re too important to me. I don’t want to lose you over a petty argument,” he simpered, leaning forward to sway the chair onto its back legs. He tilts his chin with the intention of meeting your gaze. It is as one sided as it has always been.

You split the square again, savouring it. You chew and chew until it is ground into mush, all for the sake of holding your tongue. He means it. To him, the argument was inconsequential — something you’d fought about more than once, always seeing the other side of it. Part of you thought Satoru might enjoy conflict, if it meant proving you would choose him again and again.

This time he had dubbed you greedy for wanting more from him. Gojo Satoru, the man who eats and eats and eats to occlude the widening cavity in his chest. You, his sole source of selfishness, the one person in his world that expected nothing and accepted the slivers of his self without seeking more.

“It wasn’t petty to me,” you reply, your voice barely a whisper. The last little square of pastry has flattened under your idle fiddling. “Either I am a part of your life or I’m not. I wont be someone for you to play house with anymore. I want more than this for us”.

The shadows shift with the passing clouds and the classroom darkens. He stalls. You think you can see the moment that your words register. The realisation that this cannot be resolved through gift giving and some lighthearted banter. Though an infinitesimal second in time, you bear witness to the brief loss of bravado.

It brings a choking air of finality, and your throat swells with it. Satoru remains teetering on the back of his chair, held in suspension. You silently beseech him to reach for you, for the entirety of his weight to fall forward into your embrace. Let me swallow what’s left of you. I swear can stomach it.

A backwards rock. All four legs meet the floor with a mournful thud. You can barely make out the shake in his shoulders, or the way his quivering hand curls into a fist. Then, with a drawn out exhale, the tension dissipates. Satoru drapes forward over the chair like a stringless doll, releasing an empty laugh.

“I’ll… let you think about it for a bit,” he says, forcing some vigour into his voice as he stands, brushing the crumbs from his shirt. “Maybe we both need… more time to think”.

When he leaves he does so while dragging his feet. Sluggish footfalls, the soles of his shoes purposefully scuffing the ground. The last bit of pastry is now cold between your fingers. Insipid on your tongue, as most things are in his absence.

You’re struck by the thought that this might be the last piece of him you’ll ever get. Satoru did love you. He would give you anything and everything, you knew that to be true.

Anything but himself.

[emcscared-whumps]

WiJ 2022 - 18: "Make Me" (1/9)

WiJ 2022 Navigation Post

This is the bitch that refused to let me write Rebellion before it. Point your finger and blame this piece lol

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CONTENT and WARNINGS: mer/shifter whumpee (in hooman form!), uhh... I genuinely don't know what you call it when some asshole falsely accuses someone of the Thirsty Gaze(TM) when he wasn't, the asshole knows it, and the asshole uses it as an excuse to beat the shit out of Pete, the... vague sexual allusions are vague, it's fine >.> , vaguer allusions of abuse mother to (adult) child

wc: ~0.6k

Pete’s nerves nibbled at his mind and body; the clouds were getting heavy that afternoon. A storm was the last thing he wanted to be caught in. For someone like him, being in a storm with little more than a bike was a death sentence. And today, he had special cargo.

Buried in Pete’s satchel, wrapped in a spare towel, was a savoury, puff pastry swirl, and a few small tarts. They were still warm, but much longer in this blustery ride, and it would be a waste—pastries were never as good re-heated.

They were from a reputable bakery, one he always passed on the way home. He always eyed each mouth-watering morsel, but every time, he had to say no. Their goods cost more than he usually allowed himself—one gorgeous, dainty pastry from the display case cost the same as a sizable pie from his regular stop. Given his… dietary requirements, he more often than not had to put his needs above is wants, but given the miserable week, both weather and otherwise, Pete decided to give in.

He’d scraped together as much of his meagre spare change as he could to boost up this week’s allowance to afford him such a luxury. He knew he’d never be allowed more. He was lucky to even have one after what happened. But what was the point of saving left-overs, if not for this?

The wheels of the bicycle clicked as Pete stopped pedalling, spying his usual shelter to rest and eat before continuing on the rest of his journey home.

It didn’t seem like much, with only one wall full wall, but the small shelter on the edge of town had offered him ample shelter from rain-laden clouds on many occasions. With weather as extreme and moody as Devonhurst’s, it was a requirement to place these around the long stretches of road and parks where there was no other shelter. No doubt, with the fixed tables, chairs, and electric hearth, it had saved countless lives, including his own.

His good leg ached from the strain of taking the load. Sighing, he came to a stop and dismounted, unhooking his cane from its holder. This shelter had a tree, and was near to the cliffside. When he could bear to look at the ocean it was a mesmerising, though terrifying sight. Today, he turned his back to it, focusing on moving his bike inside. He grimaced as his leg continued its protest in unison with the throb of his injured foot.

Finally, he could have his prize.

Rich, savoury flavours danced across his tongue with hints of herbs cutting through, followed by citrus, berry. He’d save the chocolate for later. They were well worth the trouble, and coupled with dinner, he’d have a full belly for the first time in weeks.

Pete sighed again, allowing himself a second to relax before he continued back ho—to Kate’s terrace.

The rustle of grass and clothing signalled the presence of a stranger. He sat bolt upright, twisting to see a woman enter the shelter.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, bitch?” she said, malice lacing her tone.

Pete stood too quickly, sending a sharp wave of agony from his foot shooting up his leg. His breath caught in his chest, heart-rate picking up. He would’ve dropped his cane and the baggie if not for his frightened, white-knuckled grip. “Exc-c—wh-what?” he stammered. The package crinkled as he clutched it close to his chest.

“You think I’m a piece of meat, huh? Quit gawkin’ ya pathetic tadger.”

“I—I wasn’t, it-t—p-please, miss—” his hands and voice shook, and his mouth dried. “Please g-go away.” She stepped toward him, prompting Pete to falter backward, “Make me.”

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If you read and enjoyed this, please consider a reblog ^-^

Taglist:

@whumpmasinjuly

@dang-i-like-whump

@whump-cravings

If you would like to be added or removed from my taglist (general prompts or canon), please feel free to dm/let me know :)

[ceruleanmusings]

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Fandom: Big Time Rush Pairing: James Diamond x Mickey Mason (OC) Rating: T (for some cursing) Word Count: 11.3k Summary: When James gets a secret admirer gift on Valentine’s Day, he drags Mickey around the Palm Woods to find the sender – not knowing the sender is closer than he thinks. Contents: mentioned social anxiety, angst, idiots who like each other being idiots, semi-reluctant pining, show-standard humor and highjinks, implied disordered eating, valentine’s day, envy, self-loathing A/N: I was going to wait until the 14th to post this but I need to get it off my hands so I can stop picking and editing it to death. Have at it! Hope you like it! ALSO! Someone please let me know if it gets truncated at James’s text. On mobile it says the post is too long and cuts it off at the end but on desktop it’s fine. If I have to delete this and make it a two-parter I will! You need to see the proper ending! Also please leave comments on the fic if you liked it and feel so inclined (no pressure obvs), I’d love to read them on the body rather than tags so I can save them somewhere. :) Happy Valentine’s Day! Tag: @mystic-scripture​ @foxesandmagic​ @witchofinterest​ @juliesdahlias​ @raging-violets​ @ocfairygodmother​ @lareiism​

Propping the large wicker basket against her popped hip, Mickey knocked on the door right beneath the square 2J placard. Her knuckles briefly touched the wood on the fourth knock when the door swung inwards. She quickly stopped her extending arm in its tracks, her fist resting inches from Kendall’s face. Eyes crossed, staring at her knuckles, he took a step back.

“Oh! Sorry Kindle. I didn’t think you’d get to the door so fast,” she apologized, wrapping her arms around the basket, bringing it to her front.

“You know, the door’s always open. You don’t have to knock.” As Kendall spoke, he moved to the side and brought his arm back in a sweeping gesture.

“Excuse me?” Mickey’s eyebrow popped upwards and she walked past him. “Kindle Knight, my momma’d have my hide if I just barged into someone’s home!” She carefully set the basket down onto the nearby table. Leaning her weight against one palm on the tabletop, she placed another on her hip. “I know there’s such a thing as being ‘Minnesota Nice’, but y’all’re asking for it.”

Kendall scoffed. “What do you mean? The only person who’d come right in is Bitters—and I see your point,” Kendall said. Mickey winked and made a clicking noise out the side of her mouth. “Is that it?” He gestured to the basket as he approached.

“Yep!” Lifting the lid, she removed a gallon Ziploc bag and set it aside as she leaned forward to review the contents. Not that she needed to, she made double-triple-quadruple sure everything she’d prepared the night before and that morning was in its rightful place before she snuck out. Jazz hadn’t noticed beneath her flurry of helping Mel pick out something for her date with Dak to Malibu. “If you don’t mind, I took a few liberties with what you wanted.” When he’d originally pulled her aside during a recording session asking her to make a picnic for him and Jazz, he’d merely shrugged and suggested that she put in anything “Valentine-y” when she asked if he wanted anything specific. So, she zhooshed it up a little; her sister deserved the best and that’s what she was going to ensure Kendall gave her. “You have a bottle of sparkling cider, strawberries, smoked salmon, caper, and goat cheese topped crostini, spinach and feta cheese pastry spirals, barbeque bacon and chicken bites, and, for dessert, slices of strawberry rhubarb pie and two flutes of beignet tiramisu with chocolate ganache.”

Kendall’s nose wrinkled. “Chocolate guh-whaaa?”

“Goodbye!” Mickey shoved the basket into his arms. Tilting her head to the side, she studied his red plaid shirt and reached out to fix the collar. “Keep the cold stuff in the insulated bag until you’re ready to eat it or else the beignets will start to get soggy.” Her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth when she went for the fringe of hair poking out from beneath his beanie. Ordinarily she’d balk at the sight of him wearing it, on a date no less, but Jazz liked him in his beanies so she could let it slide. Taking a step back, she surveyed the rest of his appearance and nodded her approval. “You’re all set! If you’re worried about your breath, I threw in some Ice Breakers and mini floss. Jazz is waiting for you at the park.”

“Thanks so much for this, Mickey,” he said, flashing a dimpled smile. His green eyes crinkled in the corners. “I really appreciate it.”

She beamed and a rush of satisfaction sent a pleased flush to her cheeks. She rocked back and forth on her navy Docs. “What are friends for if they can’t help you woo their sister?”

“…To give me free food?”

She pinched his cheek. “You’re lucky I like you.” Making a ‘shoo’ gesture with her hands, Mickey pushed Kendall towards the door. He flashed a finger guns sign at her and hurried away. Shaking her head, she turned on her heel, her locs cascading over one shoulder with the turn. “Okay Katie, he’s gone,” she called up to the loft above.

With a thumping commotion, Katie spilled out the open mouth of the swirly slide. Rounding the table, she crossed her arms. “You got the stuff?”

Mickey mimicked her gesture, raising a brow. “You got a cooler? I’m not letting all my hard work go to waste.”

Katie lifted her chin. “Yeah, I got a cooler.”

“Then I got your stuff.” Mickey picked up the Ziploc bag and handed it out to her. “Homemade chocolate turtles, at your service. I think seven per bag is a good amount. If anyone tries to push for more, remember that they’re the ones who are trying to get candy at the last minute on Valentine’s Day.”

“Got it!” With an eager—and almost manic—grin, Katie snatched the bag out of Mickey’s hands and shoved them into the small red cooler sitting atop of the breakfast bar. She dragged the cooler off the counter and hurried past her, making a beeline for the door. Calling over her shoulder she added, “And we’re splitting the profits 55-45.”

“Freeze, Kid!” Mickey squinted at Katie’s back, her hand gripping the doorknob. “We agreed on 50-50.” She wiggled a finger in the space between herself and Katie’s back.

Katie whirled around. “Yeah, but I have to think about my college fund. Between your band and playing bass for Big Time Rush, you have all the money you could need.” Mickey snorted. With widening eyes and a pout to her lower lip, Katie said. “Do you want to be the one to tell my mom you’re denying me the funds for a college education?”

Mickey pressed her lips together, doing her best to keep a smile off her face; partly in awe at her gall, and also partly with pride. The kid was good. Too good. Or else Mickey was a sucker for a well-placed pout. She poked her tongue into her cheek, dragging it against the soft, smooth surface and exhaled a sigh. “Fine! But if anyone asks where you got the candy from, make sure to mention my name. I want to try and get Mickey’s Morsels off the ground while I can. Guilty pleasures can be a good cash grab.”

“Then I want 10% of any future profits for the promotion.”

“Deal.”

“Deal!” Like Kendall, Katie pointed a finger gun gesture at her and hustled out the door.

When it slammed shut, Mickey dug her fingers into the side of her head. Geeze, this holiday. She didn’t mind making treats for her friends to use at their discretion, but she wanted no part in the holiday itself. It made people crazy, trying to find ways to profess their love for people. And for just that one day? The idea had never sat right with her. Why contain their appreciation to one day when the other three hundred and sixty-four were available? Not to mention the price gouging on flowers and candy—the turtle prices were reasonable!—and society’s penchant for making the single people feel like losers for not having that special someone for the one day.

Not that she was a loser. Okay, so maybe she had been slightly irked when she learned Mel and Jazz had plans with their boyfriends for the day. Her other sister, Sammi, had already flown to Nashville to be with her long-standing boyfriend for the occasion. Hell, even her aunt Kelly had a blind date for the night, a double with Miss Jennifer. (It wasn’t a blind date for Miss Jennifer, she was going out with Fabio. It was who Fabio was bringing for Kelly that attached the ‘blind’ classification. When Jazz offered up the suggestion Gustavo was her date, Kelly nearly broke her neck with how fast she denied that claim.)

She wasn’t envious, not at all, it’s just…well, it was a bit odd to be the only one without plans. They were supposed to do everything together, right? Wasn’t that the point of being born with them? How’d she miss the memo on getting a boyfriend? Not that it mattered. And she got over it anyway. Helping her sisters and her friends have special days was all she needed to feel fulfilled. With Kelly’s apartment empty, she had a pint of Häagen Dazs, a few pop-punk playlists, her pet ferret, and Legally Blonde to keep her company.

“Ahem.”

Or not.

Eyebrows crinkling, Mickey turned only to yelp at the sight of James stretched out on a black and white checkered blanket, one arm resting on a propped-up knee, the long stem of a deep red rose clamped between his smiling teeth. The orange couch had been pushed aside, allowing for the blanket to take its place on the floor. Plates of heart-shaped candy, brownies, soft pretzels, cookies, and cinnamon rolls covered the surface, nestled near two cans of Diet Coke, all beneath a crackling fire.

Mickey’s eyes widened and her thoughts raced so fast they nearly collided with one another. When did he get there? How did she not hear him? How did he set that up so fast? Where did he hide it? Where did he manage to find heart-shaped cinnamon rolls? He had to go for the pretzel too, didn’t he? Darn her appreciation for bread. And—was that a fireplace? Where the hell did he get a fireplace?

She sucked a breath in through her nose, fighting to ease the twitching to her lip and the racing of her heart and the quivering in her legs. Upon closer inspection the fire was only a setting on a tv screen propped up on the floor. Okay, that was good. Why he didn’t just use the one hanging off the wall she didn’t dare ask. Like with Carlos, sometimes it was better to not ask questions.

James removed the rose from his mouth, his smile not budging an inch. “I was just thinking, since we’re both here, and we’re both single, and it’s Valentine’s Day, how about you and me”—he gestured to the space between them with the rose; Mickey watched as a petal fell off and fluttered to the ground—“spend the day together. We could even make-out—ow, thorn.”

Oh, dear god. She had a feeling God wouldn’t help her if he came up with this form of torture for her to walk into. But it was enough for her to grab her wits—not that his deepening voice shook them loose or anything—and look him in the eye. Away from his smile. He had a nice smile; she could admit that. Okay, it was a great smile. But that wasn’t the point!

“No thank you,” she said shortly, managing to find her voice after swallowing the lump of panic rising in her throat. “This…” she gestured to the scene in front of her, “this was nice but…no. No thank you.” Turning to the door, she jumped when she spotted James blocking her path. What the…? A glance over her shoulder showed an empty blanket. Facing him, she jerked her thumb over her shoulder and asked, “How did you do that?”

James ignored her question. “Maybe we can go see a movie instead. They’re replaying Kiss and Tell.”

She didn’t know which was worse: his suggestion or her traitorous mind considering it for a second. A fleeting second, it shot out of her brain faster than it came in, but it existed. And that was enough for her to shut it down, banish it away and keep a tighter hold on herself. In fact, she wrapped her arms around herself, as if she needed to hold herself back from doing something she couldn’t take back, something ridiculously stupid. Because she knew what he implied with that suggestion; the switch from his frank sharing of his intentions to a covert suggestion nearly knocked her off kilter. She really needed to get a grip.

“No thank you,” she repeated, firming up the three words. She moved to walk around him when he took a large step to the left, blocking her path. She took a step to her left and he mirrored her, still standing in her way. She allowed a smile through, remembering he did the same when they first met nearly a year ago. Some things changed, including the cut of his long shaggy hair (thankfully!), and some things stayed the same.

“What else do you have to do today?” The roll of his shoulders, the shove of his hands into his pockets, and the relaxed ease as he offered up the question, as if he knew the answer, rankled her.

Shifting her grip, she crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “Stuff.”

He squinted. “What kind of stuff?”

“Important stuff. It’s…” she stretched out the last letter, sounding much like a hissing snake as she quickly thought. “It’s my hair day.”

“Your hair day is usually the third Sunday of the month. It’s only the second.”

Shit. She should have known he’d know that. He was the only other person outside her family who had dedicated hair days and she may have asked his opinion on scalp detox treatments once or twice. “I need the extra work. My locs are dry.”

“I can help.”

Help by touching her hair? Help by erasing any sort of space between them? Help by being close enough for her to spell the warm ‘Cuda man spray clinging to his neck? (They’d changed something in the formula, so he didn’t swell up into a hive monster anymore.) No. Nope. Bad idea. Her eyes darted to the oven nearby, displaying the time, and her pulse thudded at the time. 12:30? Crap, crap crap!

“Again, no thank you. I just want to be alone. Oh, is that the time? I have to go!” Finally, she managed to get around him and made a quick beeline for the door.

James followed her. “Who wants to be alone on Valentine’s Day?”

“I do.” She had to get out. She had to leave now. Good thing they never locked their door, she could make a quick exit. Just had to open the door and make her escape and get to the bus and—shove her face into the fronds of an aloe plant. She lifted her brown eyes, zeroing in on the name stitched into the navy shirt: Busy Bee Florist.

Oh nooooooo.

“What’s up? I gotta delivery for’a James Diamond.” The deliveryman’s strong Brooklyn accent threw Mickey for a loop. Yes, that was the reason she still stood in the doorway, gaping at him, rather than making her escape. She may as well have closed the door in her own face. Escape was futile.

“I’m James Diamond.” Out the corner of her eye, Mickey saw James point to himself. She needed to move, she needed to leave, but weights in her legs kept her rooted to the spot despite the alarm bells going off in her mind.

“Sign ‘ere.” The deliveryman shoved the plant into Mickey’s hands and removed the clipboard from beneath his arm. James quickly scrawled his signature at the bottom of the paper and handed the clipboard back. The deliveryman lifted his cap in a halfhearted gesture grumbled, “Have a bee-utiful day”, and walked away.

Humming, James closed the door, pinching the sleeve of Mickey’s white and navy stripped shirt to tug her out the way. With puckered eyebrows he took the plant out of her hands, turning the cream-colored base side to side, studying the long blades of the plant. “Oooh! What’s this?” Eyes settling on the white card wedged between a few blades, he set the plant down on the dinner table and plucked it. With a twist of his wrist, he turned the card around, eyes scanning the line of text on it.

Mickey took the chance to tiptoe towards the door. She knew exactly how long it would take him to read the short note written on the cardstock. She knew exactly how long it would take him to read it again. And if she moved fast enough, she could be out the door and safe and be back at her apartment cuddled up with her ferret and he’d be none the wiser and she’d be safe.

James’s hoot of excitement dashed her hopes when he raced over to her, grasped her shoulders, and shook her, sending her blue and black locks shooting forward and back. “Do you know what this is?” She didn’t get a chance to get a word out when he continued speaking, “It’s a secret admirer note! I have a secret admirer!” She stumbled away when he let her go, grasping onto the dinner table to keep from falling over as her world tilted and swirled. Blinking a few times, she waited for her eyes to stop rolling and her legs to keep her firmly planted on the ground. Only when she righted herself did she notice the smirk curling on James’s lips and the sparkle shinning in his hazel eyes. “Well, I wonder who the lucky lady is getting a first-class seat on Air Diamond. Destination: love!”

…Huh. Mickey pressed her lips together, straining to keep away the curl of…something she didn’t want to name which fought to appear on her face. Not only ten minutes ago he tried to put the moves on her and now he was up and ready to find some other girl? Then what was the whole point? Something stirred in her stomach, a sour bubbling led to a crackling beneath her skin. A livewire, making her fingers twitch against the table.

“—Okay, let’s go!”

Crap. She hadn’t been listening to him. She looked up at him from behind her curtain of hair. “Go where?”

“My secret admirer is out in the Palm Woods somewhere and you’re gonna help me find her.”

Her breath knocked out of her all at once when his words landed on her. No, no, no! He wasn’t supposed to do that! He wasn’t supposed to try and trail it back to the sender. The note was anonymous for a reason! Wasn’t that the whole point of a secret admirer? The idea stoked her panic and had her uttering in a pitchy squeak, “What!? Me!? Why me?”

“Because you’re a girl and you can send out your girl signals to help me figure out who it is.” He wiggled his fingers in her direction as he spoke.

She stared at him, an eye slowly closing to a squint as his words registered. “…Girls aren’t bats! We don’t have some sort of…girl…echolocation radar!” Make him change his mind, get him off the trail, do something!

“Maybe not. But you can’t say no to this smile.” James pointed at his face, as if she somehow forgot what his smile looked like when his lips pulled back to let the dazzle shine through.

She swore she heard a record scratch sound off in her head. And she stared. She didn’t plan to, she didn’t want to, but it just…happened. The staring. When he smiled at her like that, it was if her brain went to mush and needed time to power down and process that a smile like that was directed at her. And the worst part? He knew how to work it and get her flimsy resolve to crack. It scattered at her feet, useless. “…Godammit.”

If possible, James’s smile shined brighter. The boy could light up all of Vegas with the wattage powering him. Mickey looked away, or else she’d do something she’d regret to wipe away that self-satisfied look in his eye.

The smug jerk.

------------

Okay, okay, don’t panic Mickey, don’t panic! It’s just…a matter of putting everything into perspective. You sent James a plant. Just a plant. People send people plants all the time. No big deal. Okay, so there was a note too, but it was just a note. A nice note. Just something you’ve been thinking. People share thoughts all the time! It’s not a big deal! …But now he’s dragged you around the Palm Woods because he wants to find whoever sent him the plant. Because of course he wasn’t going to let it go, you big time dumbass! You could probably tell him that you sent it and end this…but then he’d probably blow that out of proportion and—

“Okay! Do you remember the plan?” James popped out from behind the line of bushes around the Palm Woods pool, a tree hat sitting comfortably on his head.

Lifting herself up next to him, Mickey spat out a few leaves coating her tongue and brushed away the few sticking to her hair. “Is the hat really necessary?”

“Yes! All of our good plans involve tree hats!” Mickey’s mouth turned to the side. Since when have their plans turned out well? Or could be called good? The boys somehow manage to turn doing nothing into complete chaos and James thinks their plans work? The boy really did float along on a cloud of his own ego. “By the way, I got you one too.” James pulled a hat from seemingly out of nowhere.

Mickey frowned at it. “You know I can’t wear it. Hats don’t fit over my hair.”

“Oh, I thought about that. I got it a size bigger. And!” He flipped it over, pointing at the interior. “I custom ordered it. The inside is lined with satin so it won’t pull on or damage your hair.”

Stunned, it took a second for her to reach out and take the hat, carefully placing it over her hair and, whaddya know, it fit perfectly. “Thanks James,” she said with a soft smile.

His shoulders bounced in a jaunty shrug. “No problem.” Then he reached out, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and drew her into his side. A strangled sound rumbled in her chest and a flush darkened her cheeks, the one squished against his pec. Electricity shot down her arm, right beneath his soft grip, but that was nothing to worry about. Just a static shock. “Now remember: you go over to the Jennifers, strike up a conversation, and then I’ll slip in and close the deal.”

“Yeah, but James, this is the seventh girl you’ve tried.” Mickey lifted her hand and started counting on her fingers. “You’ve already called that Annie girl who you thought was a mermaid, you called Heather Fox, you texted Mercedes—”

“How could she not want this”—he gestured wildly to his face—“as one of her potential boyfriends? How could she not pick me? Huh? How?”

“—then there was that Muffy girl who you say tried to kill you—”

“Yes, but that was only when I was a vampire,” James supplied.

Mickey studied his face, trying to find any hint of jest only to come up empty. Anyway! “After that you tried some Penny Lane girl who you say was a spy.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “You just tried with Sunblock Girl—”

“Yeah, that still stings,” James mumbled, rubbing at a slightly reddened eye. “She has good aim with that sunscreen.”

“—and then there was that contest winner. Tiffany? Or Jeanette? …Which one did you end up calling anyway?”

James made a face. “I don’t know. Tiffnette?”

Mickey slapped her palm against her face and pulled her features down. This boy. “I’m just saying, you’re zero for seven. Why don’t you quit while you’re behind? Isn’t the secret admirer part supposed to be kept a secret?”

James swung his head around to face her, his bottom lip pulled up into an angry pout. “If I wanted someone to make things make sense, I would’ve brought Logan with me.”

“Logan’s on a double with Carlos.”

“I know!” he all but shouted, eyes blazing, “Don’t remind me! Everyone else gets to be so happy! When’s it gonna be my turn, hmm? Don’t I deserve to be happy too? It’s not like pretty people don’t have problems!” Mickey bit the inside of her cheek. She wasn’t going to touch that. “And right now, my problem is that I’m not dating a Jennifer. Now get over there and help me.”

“Which one do you want me to ask?”

“Yes!” He pushed at her shoulder and she stumbled sideways, catching her balance before eating it on the cement around the pool. Grumbling, she yanked off her tree hat and tossed it over to James.

Curling and uncurling her fingers, Mickey counted every step she took as she got closer to the Jennifers. They sat around their table by the cabanas as always, drinking identical pink smoothies, scripts held up to their faces. Mickey blew out a breath through her pursed lips. It wasn’t that she and the Jennifers didn’t get along, they were nice…enough. She liked Jennifer 3, sometimes they talked about hair treatments or what skincare products to use for dark marks. But it was hard to get her away from the other Jennifers so their conversations were few.

In unison they arched their brows, lowered their scripts, and removed their large, round sunglasses from their faces. Mickey’s attempt at a smile stalled halfway beneath their perfect, poreless, pristine auras. They sat cast in a golden outline, as if a permanent spotlight illuminated them. And there she stood by comparison, rusted silver, barely. It’s no wonder James insisted it had to be one of them.

“Hey guys,” Mickey greeted them, shoved her curled hands into her pockets. She rocked back and forth on her heels and used her chin to point towards the bound pages on the table. “New scripts?”

“We have an audition coming up for Savannah Louisiana: normal girl by day, singing spy by night,” Jennifer 1 explained, her lips curling in a pleased smile.

“Yeah, but why are you studying them today? I figured you’d have some sort of date or something. It is Valentine’s Day.”

“We need to give the boys of the Palm Woods time to think they have a chance with us,” Jennifer 2 said. With a sweep of her arm, she motioned to the piles, buckets, and of flowers, teddy bears, and wrapped gifts surrounding them. An easel nearby held looked like a large poster of the three Jennifers but was really, upon closer inspection, made out of M&Ms in varying colors.

Mickey let out a low whistle at the sight of it. Talk about dedication. “…Don’t know how I missed that,” she mumbled. Out the corner of her eye she spotted James removing his tree hat and whipping out a handheld mirror to check his hair. He winked at his reflection and cocked a finger gun. A flash of irritation coursed through her. “So…you have a lot of admirers.”

“Of course we do,” Jennifer 3 said, shoving her sunglasses into her hair. She spoke as if the notion was obvious. Which it probably was for them. They probably got mountains of cards and gifts back in school, being the envy of the hallways. Mickey knew that type well; her sister Sammi was one of them.

“Did you give any out?”

The three girls shared a look and burst out laughing. Mickey tugged at her hair again, fighting off the familiar unsettling pooling in the pit of her stomach at their laughter for asking such a question. “We don’t give out admirer notes. We just get them,” Jennifer 2 corrected, a slight sneer curling her lip and wrinkling her nose. “We have a reputation to uphold. We’re not desperate.”

She ignored the sting of their unintentional dig, spotting James walking towards the Jennifers with an odd pattern to his steps. As if he listened to bouncy disco music only he could hear. Oh no, oh no, oh no! Clearing her throat, Mickey lifted her voice, eyes darting back and forth between the Jennifers and James, “So…you’ve never sent out admirer gifts to anyone? Ever? Not even today?” James continued his approach. Geeze, how could he not hear her? Even the Jennifers caught onto the stilted wave of her questioning.

“No,” Jennifer 3 replied, eyes squinting. “And even if we did we wouldn’t wait until the last minute.”

“Besides, we have dates with the Owens Brothers tonight. They’re taking us to Nobu,” Jennifer 2 added, rolling back her shoulders.

Mickey’s head tilted to the side. “Weren’t they just cast in Savannah Louisiana?”

Jennifer 1 smirked. “Yep.”

“Ladies,” James trilled, sliding into view. Their faces remained unimpressed. “Don’t you look beautiful today. You know I really admire how you get your hair so shiny. I can even see myself in it. And I look good.” Mickey elbowed him in the side when he reached up to fix his hair and hit him with a hard stare. Just get this over with, please! “Right! Yeah, so, anyway, speaking of Valentine’s, I’m going to offer one of you ladies the chance to ride on Air Diamond, non-stop express to Love Island.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the note. Mickey lifted her thumb to her mouth, raking her teeth against the edge, taking great interest in Buddha Bob powering up his hedge clippers. “By the way, thanks for the plant and the note. Maybe we can break out the aloe and pamper each other.” Mickey put her hand up to her face, hiding the way her mouth twisted.

“We didn’t send you a secret admirer note, James,” Jennifer 2 told him in bored tones.

“What?” James’s face immediately fell. “You didn’t?”

“Of course not!” Jennifer 1 said with a scoff.

“You heard her, it’s not them, let’s go!” Mickey heard how shrill her voice had become around her thumb, but she didn’t care. She grasped his arm to move him; he didn’t budge, save for the muscle bulging beneath her hand. She snatched her hand away as if it were on fire, much like her face.

Frowning, James looked over the card again. “Well, if you didn’t, who did?”

Don’t look at me, don’t look at me, don’t look at me! Mickey bit her thumbnail so hard it popped and cracked between her teeth. Jennifer 3’s eyes slid over to her, her eyebrows lifting. Mickey’s eyes widened and she turned her head a couple inches to the left and then to the right. An amused expression passed through Jennifer 3’s face only to be replaced with a mask of indifference in the blink of an eye.

“Do we look like we care?” Jennifer 2 asked. “Now move, you’re blocking the views of the envious girls who wish they were us.” She waved her hand in a shooing gesture, putting her sunglasses back on. Jennifer 1 and Jennifer 3 mimicked her gesture.

“See? They didn’t send it. You’ve tried every girl at the Palm Woods. Now can we go?” Mickey turned to leave, stopping only when James grabbed her by the crook of her elbow.

“Yeah, every girl at the Palm Woods,” James repeated. Lifting his finger, he continued, “We haven’t tried the Palm Woods Park yet.”

The alarm bells returning, clanging louder than before. “I don’t want to go to the park. I want the ice cream that’s waiting for me.”

“I’ll buy you some. Cookie dough’s your favorite, right?”

“Right, but—”

“Do you dare try to stop me on my love quest?” he demanded, pointing a finger in her face. Her eyes crossed trying to keep his finger in focus. Geeze, how was she supposed to answer that and not sound like a jerk? …Then again, that was probably the point. “Let’s go!” She watched James’s retreating back as he marched around the pool, heading for the exit.

Mickey slowly turned to the Jennifer’s. Her eyes flickered across their faces, shoulders sagging. “…Who told you?” she slowly asked.

“Carlos,” they replied in unison, smirking all the while.

Mickey’s head lolled back as she groaned. “Should’ve known.” He couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. And it wasn’t that she wanted to tell him in the first place, he wore her down with his questioning when she called to ask, hypothetically, what kind of flowers the guys would want if they were to get them. It was a gamble asking him, she knew, but they were buds and she’d get a straight answer from him regarding James. She took too big a risk and had to tell him something to keep him from talking. Bribing him with four vouchers to whale watch clearly only worked for so long (Aunt Kelly got showered with gifts from potential clients trying to sway her into making an offer all the time).

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Jennifer 2 said, “it’s cute that you’re trying to shoot so far out of your league.”

Mickey didn’t have time to address those wounding words; realization landed with a heavy thud, dragging her attention with it: if the Jennifers knew…who else knew?

-------

“—And now, and now, he’s dragged me up and down and all around accosting some poor innocent girls trying to find his secret admirer and I don’t think he’s gonna quit!” Mickey paused her ranting to shove another spoonful of tiramisu into her mouth. She chewed the beignet piece, swallowed, and continued, “See, see, it’s this…this stupid holiday. It makes everyone go crazy. Hallmark just haaad to go and make people read into everything and think that this one day was super important and everyone had to go and choke one each other’s love fumes. What ever happened to people wanting to be nice to other people? I don’t need one day to do that. Okay, maybe I could’ve picked a better day to send the dang plant, but I wasn’t supposed to be there when he got it! And who said Valentine’s Day is all about relationships anyway? It’s for friends too! James is my friend. I, as a friend, was trying to cheer a friend up! You’ve seen how Uncle Gustavo has been on him lately!” Jazz and Kendall stared at Mickey, taking long drags of the sparkling cider bubbling in their glasses. Mickey glared at them. “Are either of you going to say something?”

The two glanced at each other and simultaneously removed the straws from their mouths and leaned forward to set their glasses down on the red and black picnic blanket. Kendall leaned back on his palms, crossing one ankle over the other, and gave her a hard look. Jazz, instead, chuckled and shook her head. “I only have five words for you.” She held up a fist and extended a finger with each word. “I. Told. You. So.”

Mickey’s nose wrinkled. “That’s four words.”

Jazz leaned forward and smacked her open palm against Mickey’s forehead. “Dumbass!” Smiling sweetly beneath Mickey’s glare she added, “That’s five,” and popped a salmon-topped crostini into her mouth.

“Why don’t you just tell James you sent him the plant?” Kendall asked.

“Why do people keep asking me that?” Mickey said through gritted teeth. Because it’s the obvious solution, dummy, her thoughts screamed back at her; she shoved it aside. “You know James better than I do,” she said, jabbing a spoon in his direction. “You know what he’s like. If he’s this rabid just trying to find his secret admirer, he’ll be worse if he found I sent it to him. Because then he’ll want to know why I sent it to him and then I’ll have to say—”

“That you like him?” Jazz offered. She held up her hands when Mickey brandished the spoon in her direction. “I’m just sayin’.”

Mickey dug the spoon back into the glass of tiramisu, the utensil clanged against the side of the glass. It sounded so simple coming out of her mouth but it just…wasn’t. She wasn’t even sure what name to put on her feelings for James. They were positive, mostly. She could admit that. He was funny and fun and sweet and loyal and supportive. But then his ego swelled and all that got eclipsed by his narcissistic, shallow, and self-centered tendencies. Though that wasn’t what made her pay attention to him in the first place, his advances aside.

No, it was that look in his eye when he hit a particularly difficult note with ease. That satisfied smile on his face when he completed a dance sequence with moves so sure it was like he floated on the music. It was the drive powering him through recording sessions, take after take after take, even though he nailed it back on the third because it wasn’t up to his standards and his level of perfection. It was the pride burning through his chest and the passion shining in his smile when he wrote and composed a song, pouring his heart into the process. It was the ease of which he laid out his vulnerabilities and didn’t apologize for it or for his existence.

But he made it complicated. Baseline, she did like James. She liked all the guys of Big Time Rush, even if they came with a hurricane of chaos. But liking James and liking James were two different things and it was much easier to face one than the other. That’s what the aloe plant was for, to say what she couldn’t and didn’t want to face. She could give away any sort of feelings she had for him with the plant and didn’t have to look at it ever again.

Besides, it wasn’t like James was serious with his come-ons. The advances were just to bide his time; she knew that; it was how he worked. He bounced around from girl to girl like a bee searching for pollen. And she was just one flower in a field, a baby’s breath next to a rose. No, this was much easier.

Well, as easy as things could be when she spent all afternoon hovering around girls sitting in the lobby waiting for a thumbs up or a thumbs down, pretending to get candy from the vending machine to scope out potential suspects, and sitting by the elevator with a hockey stick waiting to trip up any guy who could get in the way of James and his “destiny” with guilt rolling a bigger rock in her stomach as time went on.

See, this is why she hated Valentine’s Day.

“And why an aloe plant?” Kendall asked.

Mickey dragged the spoon around the remnants of the empty dessert flute, licked the chocolate ganache off the scoop, and set the glass aside, wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand. “Because you can cut open an aloe plant and use the extract to heal scrapes, treat burns, and for basic skin care. Plus, if you want, you can add it to your smoothies for an extra boost of Vitamin C or for an aid in digestive health,” Mickey replied.

“So, it’s perfect for James.” Kendall nodded. “You must really like him.” Kendall laughed when Mickey swatted at him.

“Thanks for keeping it a secret, sis,” Mickey said, turning to Jazz.

“Hey, I don’t keep secrets from Kendall. Especially not about this,” Jazz said.

“Why is this the exception?”

Jazz smirked. “Because this is fun for me.” She took another long sip of cider, turning her eyes skywards. Mickey made a mental note to look into getting a rubber snake for their next birthday. See how Jazz liked that bit of fun. When Jazz reached for the plate holding the pie piece, Mickey snatched it away from her. “Dude,” Jazz uttered.

“No pie for you!” Mickey made a show of stabbing the pie piece with a fork and shoving the broken section off in her mouth. Dang, she was good. She mentally patted herself on the back for having the foresight to leave an entire other pie in the fridge back at Aunt Kelly’s apartment.

“You can share mine,” Kendall said, offering Jazz his plate.

“Don’t be mad at me because you’re too much of a chicken shit to tell James,” Jazz said, sticking out her tongue.

Mickey scoffed. “Easy for you to say! You and Kendall have been dating basically since you met each other!” The thing was, at the time, Jazz and Kendall didn’t realize they were dating. But what else could it be called when they spent nearly every day for the past year texting, facetiming, and emailing each other when they were apart and then going to the movies, going skateboarding, scheming, playing guitar at the recording studio, and going for walks when they were together? If you wanted one, you’d find the other. By the time they jointly announced they were dating, it was more of the sake of convenience than a need. None of them—Mickey, her sisters, and the rest of the boys of Big Time Rush—batted an eyelash about it. As far as they could see, it was inevitable.

“Look, James is my bud,” Kendall said, “And I want him to be happy. And I think you two overdramatic weirdos could be happy together.”

Mickey scoffed, not bothering to hide the offense on her face. “I’m not overdramatic.”

Kendall’s eyebrows rose. “Oh really?” He reached out and smacked the pie plate out of her hands.

“My pie!” Mickey screeched, watching in dismay as it landed upside-down on the grass. “You monster!” Kendall pressed his lips together, giving her a pointed stare with his green eyes. “There is no such thing as being overdramatic about food,” she grumbled, crossing her arms.

“Mickey, why is it so bad for James to know how you feel?” Jazz asked.

Mickey pulled at a few blades of grass, twisting her mouth to the side. Sheesh, where could she start with that?

“Well, it’s not Katie,” James announced, dropping onto the blanket next to Mickey. Three pairs of eyes swiveled in his direction as he rocked from side to side, grasping two small cups of ice cream. “She even laughed in my face, which was kind of rude.” Speaking out the side of his mouth, in a stage whisper, he added, “I think she’s in denial.” With a little laugh, he shrugged his shoulders and held out a cup for Mickey.

“No luck then?” Kendall asked. Mickey squinted at him. He stared back innocently. She didn’t buy it. He was a planner for a reason. What was he up to? The nudge of James’s elbow to her side broke her stare. She accepted the cup with a fleeting smile and dug into the ice cream for a large chunk of cookie dough near the surface.

“No. She’s really hiding. And I don’t get why. I mean why spend the day alone when you could spend the day with this?” Using his spoon, James gestured to his body, from crossed legs, up his torso, and in circles around his face. His head jerked back in a recoil as a bit of ice cream flew off the spoon and landed brushing ice cream against his nose. Mickey chuckled at the sight, reaching out to brush it off his nose. James in turn flashed an appreciative smile. She caught Jazz’s eye and dropped her hand to her lap.

“Well, it can’t be hard to trace the delivery back to the sender,” Kendall said nonchalantly.

A spike of fear shot down her spine. What? Mickey shoved her spoon too far in her mouth, scraping the back of her throat. A series of coughs made her double over, reddening her face, bringing tears to her eyes. Jazz and Kendall, the traitorous traitors, merely stared at her. If Mickey looked hard enough, she’d be able to see identical devil horns on their heads. James at least had the decency to rub circles between her shoulder blades. Not that his attention could be delayed from his love quest for too long.

“Keep talking,” James said.

“No, James, we should…we should get going,” Mickey said, pushing his arm. Her voice now took on a slight rasp. “We’re interrupting their date.”

“I mean call the place,” Kendall hurried, a sparkle in his eye. “Ask for the person who delivered the flowers and get a name from them.”

“Or at least get the name of the person who paid for it,” Jazz added.

“Isn’t there some sort of privacy in place?” Mickey asked, silently sending them mental waves to shut up! “You know, for nosy busybodies?”

“Not if they have a kid who just so happens to like Big Time Rush and wouldn’t mind getting free tickets to our next concert,” Kendall said with a simple shrug of his shoulders.

“Jazz, your boyfriend’s trying to sell his soul,” Mickey tattled, jabbing her finger in Kendall’s direction.

Jazz made a meh sound. “As long as the outside of him stays the same I don’t think I’d notice a difference.”

“Nice,” Kendall muttered. His brief frown turned into a smile when Jazz leaned over and kissed his cheek.

James dug into his pocket, removing his phone with bright eyes. Mickey’s eyes darted around, searching for any sort of escape from the gnawing hole in her stomach. Do something, do something, do something! Lunging forward, Mickey grabbed James’s phone, drew back her arm, and threw it. Silence settled over the group like a thick, heavy, wool blanket. Calmly, Mickey scooped another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. Only when she swallowed did she look at their bewildered expressions and said, “Spasm. Sorry.” Then she sat up straight. “Oh look! There’s Jo!” Internally she cringed at foisting James off onto one of her friends but, well, desperate times, desperate measures. He scurried away in the blink of an eye and Mickey repeatedly hit her forehead with her fist.

“You know what I think?” Jazz asked.

“That I’m in Hell?” Mickey replied, her dull words directed down towards her lap.

Jazz snorted. “No, but you deserve however this ends.”

Mickey peeked up at them from beneath her lashes. “How’s the air up on your high horse?”

Kendall and Jazz grinned. “Sweet.”

--------

“I’m not your secret admirer,” Lucy said the minute she opened her apartment door. Looking up at James, she crossed her arms and quirked an eyebrow, effectively killing the expectant smile on his face in one shot.

“How’d you know that’s what I was gonna ask you?” he asked.

Rolling her eyes, Lucy said, “Because it’s all over the Palm Woods that you’re asking every girl if they’re your secret admirer. Honestly, I don’t blame them for keeping it a secret. You’re getting a little intense.” Lucy was going to get a fruit basket, Mickey decided. The swell of pride growing within her for having such a sensible friend ebbed away as fast as it came when Lucy’s eyes shifted over to her. “And why’re you helping him?” Lucy continued, pointing a finger in James’s direction.

“…I have girl radar or something,” Mickey replied, cringing at the rasp still affixed to her words. It was a lot easier to verbalize that than her spine being as soft as Jell-O.

Lucy blinked and shook her head. “Okay, even if that were a thing, that doesn’t make sense.”

“You know I don’t make sense,” James said. “Besides, love doesn’t have to make sense. I just want a Valentine. Why is that so bad?”

“You can’t coerce people into being what you want just because you want it,” Lucy said.

“…If I knew what that word meant I’d say ‘yes I can’!”

“You realize you’re encouraging this right?” Lucy asked Mickey.

She nearly laughed aloud. Maybe Lucy was right on paper but the lengths she’d gone through the whole day would say otherwise. Aside from throwing his phone any time he got it out, she nearly had to tackle James to keep him away from Logan, Camille, Carlos, and Stephanie when they crossed paths in the lobby (of which she then had to dodge another make-out offer as she got off him), she got a nasty shock to her foot kicking out the plug to the computers, and nearly blew herself into the pool with Bhudda Bob’s industrial leaf blower in her attempts to blow James away from Sandy and Mandy Simms (honestly that was for his own good. He wasn’t going to address them by the right names, and she knows firsthand how annoying that was).

Instead, Mickey mumbled. “Trust me, his one-track mind doesn’t need any of my help,”

“Yeah!” James nodded.

“So, you don’t find it odd you haven’t had any luck finding this girl?” Lucy asked. “Assuming it’s a girl.”

“It’s a girl!” James insisted, his voice tightening.

“Fine.” Lucy leaned against the doorway, eyes shifting between the two. “Still. It has to be someone around here, right?”

“Lucy,” Mickey all but growled through clenched teeth.

Lucy ignored her. “I don’t know why they’d want to be shy about it. I mean, you are James Diamond of Big Time Rush, after all.” Out the corner of her eye Mickey spotted James standing up straighter, propped up by her words. “Then again, girls know not to step on another girl’s territory…”

Mickey wanted her fruit basket back.

“What do you mean?” James asked.

“I mean you’ve been hanging out with Mickey all day, right? Girls might think she’s called dibs on you. Give them more of a reason to stay anonymous.” Mickey strained hard to keep her head facing forward, the expression on her face neutral beneath James’s penetrating gaze. She tucked her shakings hands into the crooks of her arms and evened out her breathing. And Lucy, all the while, held the tight-lipped smile of someone guarding a laugh. Waving her hand, Lucy stood straight, “But I could be wrong. What do I know? I don’t have a Valentine”—James moved to open his mouth—“not that I’m looking for one! You’re already taken.”

“There’s plenty of me to go around,” James insisted.

“I’m not into sharing.” Snickering, Lucy grasped her door and moved to close it. “Well, have fun on your little date.”

Mickey’s relieved sigh of “Thanks” quickly shifted over to her indignant shout of, “Wait, no! This isn’t a date!” Her words bounced harmlessly off Lucy’s closed door.

“Whatever!” Lucy called from the other side.

Pulling her lips inwards, Mickey slowly turned, steeling herself for…something. A suggestive comment, a flirty smile, swagger pouring out of his, well, pores. Not…this. The rounding of his shoulders, balancing an invisible weight, the shadow blanketing the sparkle in his eyes, the sharp rise and fall of his chest rather than the steady sureness and puffed preening. Releasing her lips, they fell into a soft frown. “James?” She reached out, her fingers grazing his arm. His head snapped up, eyes settling on her face, and with a blink of his (unfairly!) long lashes, the light returned to his eyes.

“Hey, no, I’m good. Let’s take a break. I'm getting hungry.”

She didn’t bother to point out he’d already eaten ice cream, because eating sounded like a good idea. She needed food. She needed to stop the gnawing in her stomach in ways only food could satiate. The hole opened, allowing more room for guilt and shame around the pie and tiramisu and ice cream she’d already consumed. Better to eat something else before the black hole ate her. At least that way, if she was full, there was no room for anything else.

-------

It wasn’t that she didn’t want the sandwich James prepared. He even remembered not to put mayonnaise on hers; not even the guys at Subway could manage that. (Okay, so she kind of mumbled when she had to place orders so it was easy to confuse ‘tomato’ for ‘mayo’ and she could have corrected them but that was more trouble than it was worth.) Despite the clawing deep in the pit of her stomach she couldn’t make herself eat, not with the waves of despair rolling off James, threatening to drown her. He kept his smile, but it was tight lipped, half-blown, wrong.

He leaned against the refrigerator, one leg crossed over the other at the ankle, shoulders pressing against the glass, holding his weight up, taking steady sips from a juice box. One arm wrapped tight around his torso, as if trying to hug himself.

Mickey picked at the sandwich, tearing little bits of bread and turkey breast and lettuce only to smoosh it into little spheres, littering her plate. James left his untouched.

“Is there something wrong with me?” James had lifted his mouth from the straw; the red from the juice darkened them. He wiped his mouth with the back of his palm, he set the juice box down. “I mean, there can’t be much wrong with me, right?”

“Uhhhh….” Mickey flicked a few of the sandwich spheres around her plate.

“I just don’t get it,” James continued as if she didn’t say anything, as if she weren’t in the room. “Why is it so easy for everyone else? I mean, Kendall. Right? We move here and right away Kendall gets Jo. And then Logan gets Camille…” He held his hand in the air and waved it side to side. “Kind of. And then Carlos has his thing with Stephanie. And then Kendall and Jo break up. But then we meet you guys and, well, you know Kendall and Jazz.” James drummed his fingers against the cardboard on the juice box. “…Kendall has it all. You know? The family, the friends, the girl.” Mickey zeroed in on that one word. Girl. Not girls. “And he didn’t even try for it. Not really. It falls into his lap.” The gnawing in her stomach grew though she couldn’t bring herself to eat anything, no matter how hard it screamed for food. A lump rose in her throat; she curled her trembling fingers into her palms. “Yeah, maybe I’ve been with girls. But lately I see Logan and Carlos and Kendall and they’re with girls. And I want that, I guess. And then this plant came…” Setting aside the juice box, he shifted and leaned forward, resting his elbows against the breakfast bar Mickey sat at, peering at the aloe plant. The minute he reentered 2J he picked it up and turned it around and around in his hands, as if searching for some sort of hidden compartment on it and discarded it as if it had personally offended him. Now he stared at it so hard she swore it’d eventually catch fire. “I thought maybe this was my chance for…something. I mean, my parents didn’t care much about spending time with me until I got out here. And even then, I don’t see my mom much. She doesn’t ask about all this.” He spun his finger in the air, encircling the room. His cheeks squished when he propped them up on his fists. Mickey’s leg bounced against the footrest of the bar stool. And even as her body tensed, begging her to run, she sat, enthralled, in a sick game of chicken. “Maybe it was a joke. Or I’m the joke, for thinking…” Silence ticked by, each pulse pounding Mickey over the head: say something do it, do it now, talk!

Her lips trembled, whether from the onslaught of his words, the ease and content of laying himself bare without a second thought, or the pressure rising within her chest. Lowering her head, she dug her fingers into her hair, curling them around the shafts, tugging hard. The pain was a brief relief, sharp and pointed; something to focus on than her whirling thoughts. Except for one, niggling at the back of her mind, roaring louder until she pinpointed Jazz’s voice:

Why is it so bad for James to know how you feel?

It wasn’t that. It was the after. What happens afterwards, what he would do, could do, with the feelings she gave for him on a platter. And she hated it, the not knowing, not having control after the words left her mouth, having to just stand there and open up her chest and hope and pray he’d be delicate.

You don’t know anything about me, she’d always say, a perfect deflection to his inquiries on her constant rebuffs. Shorthand for what she really wanted to say: you don’t care. But he did, he proved it all day: he knew her hair schedule, he knew her hair was important enough to her to get her a cap she could wear, he knew her favorite ice cream choice, he knew her sandwich preferences, he put aside his goal to check on her well-being, he prepared her favorite snacks when he knew she’d be alone. Even if it came with a string attached, he thought about it, thought about her. She rejected it but it didn’t stop him from laying it all out there, from going after what he wanted, from trying again and again and again, diving in with both feet without apologizing for it, without apologizing for feeling and being.

That’s truly why she hated the occasion, Valentine’s Day, because it gave everyone else the courage to be raw, be real, and she couldn’t manage it.

But as she sat there, simmering in James’s admission, wondering how someone like him could think he was a joke for allowing himself to be hopeful, she still admired him. How could she not? He was James Diamond, unapologetically.

“James.” She heard the shake in her voice and made herself remain steady, even as the bounce in her leg increased. He looked at her, face so open. Her heart sighed. “…I sent the plant.”

He didn’t react right away, just stared at her, hazel eyes meeting russet. She clasped her hands, bringing them up to her mouth, biting down on both thumb nails. He blinked, sucked in a breath, and slowly leaned back until he stood tall.

“…You’re my secret admirer.”

Mickey leaned back, dropping her hands into her lap, skin lightening beneath her hard grip. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

She let out a little laugh, sheepish and incredulous combined. Because she was a jerk? Because she was an idiot. Because she was scared. All of the above? “Because I was the only person you didn’t ask, dummy!”

James blinked. “Oh.” He looked at the plant, at her, back at the plant, and got the note out of his pocket. His thumbs smoothed out the creased and bent cardstock and then held it out to her. She took it and put it aside; she didn’t need to read it. She had the words memorized; she’d agonized over what to add for days until she came up with the finished product. She didn’t care about that, she cared about now, what he would do now. As his lips parted, ready to speak again, she forced herself to stay put. All instincts told her to run, to hide, she still had time to save herself. She stayed still. “I guess…I didn’t think to ask. I mean, I never thought you’d…admire me.” He said the last part slowly, as if testing the weight of the words on his tongue.

Her shoulders sagged with her accompanying sigh. Okay, that wasn’t too bad. She tugged on the ends of her hair, pulling from mid-length down to the ends, over and over, avoiding his eyes. “James…I-I admire a lot about you. I don’t know how people can’t. I mean you…you have this drive that I’ve never seen in anyone before. And you have so much passion behind it. Even with Gustavo being hard on you lately, you still come back the next day ready to work with this…this fire. I’ve seen you go through so much and the whole time you’re…you’re you. You’re so comfortable being yourself, wholly, fully, and you don’t feel the need to apologize for it. I wish I was like that sometimes.”

“Oh.” He sure liked that word.

Head tilted downwards, she still stroked her hair, but peeked up at him. His eyes had widened and something in his face stilled. Did she say something wrong? God, this was why she didn’t do things like this, didn’t put herself out there. Crap, she messed everything up! The paralyzing hold on her eased, allowing a painful stab to hit her right in chest. She swiveled her hips to the side, turning the stool top, ready to jump down.

“Hold on.” James reached out, hand resting on her shoulder. She stopped, held her breath, and watched with crinkled brows when he walked stiffly to the bathroom and closed the door. What the…? Her eyebrows bunched even further at the flurry of movement on the other side of the door. If she closed her eyes, she could almost see him flailing. The door swung open and James walked back out calmly, cheeks reddened.

Her eyes ping-ponged between him and the bathroom. She was almost afraid to ask. “Did…did you just do a happy dance?”

“What? Me? No! Of course not!” James scoffed, waving his hand in the air, failing at keeping the smile off his flushed face. “Can I give you your gift now?” His words collided in a rushed slur.

She blinked, jarred from the conversation whiplash. Oh. Oh. She thought…And to be sure she glanced over her shoulder where the indoor picnic had been left. “Was that not…?”

“No. I got you something else.” His long fingers gripped the countertop; he practically vibrated.

“Ok…ay.” This…was not what was supposed to happen. Was it?

James scurried off to the bedrooms and Mickey prepared herself for the usual gifts she received on such occasion, a card or oven mitts or an apron with Mickey Mouse decorated all over it because, well, it was obvious. Her name and her hobby in the same, how original! But she’d mastered the pleased smile years ago. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the gifts, clearly the thought was behind it and that’s what counted, but sometimes she wished people didn’t go for something so easy.

When James came back carrying…some white structure, which at first glanced looked like a miniature shelf, she didn’t know what to do with her face. She bet she looked half constipated and half bewildered. How attractive!

“Um…”

“It’s an indoor herb garden,” he supplied, filling in the large blank in her head. She gaped, heart thudding a steady rhythm against her ribcage. “You always said you were upset Kelly’s apartment didn’t have a place for you to grow stuff. Now you can. Look!” He turned the box around and pointed to a list in small print. “It comes with spices too. It has basil, parsley, oregano, rosemary, thyme, and mint.”

A low buzzing sounded in her ears. It took her time to place it, that thrumming content. But when she did it amplified, an electric current running through her, so palpable that when their fingers brushed as she accepted the box, sparks popped at her fingertips. “Thank you.” It was soft and tender; all she could manage while trying to contain herself.

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it.”

Like wasn’t the right word but she wasn’t ready for that, nowhere near it. Hugging the box to her chest, she chanced a glance at him. “What happens now?” She hadn’t meant to blurt it out so suddenly, but she had to know. Needed to know. “I’ve never…I mean, this thing…” Words failed her. Instead, she dragged a finger in the space between them.

Luckily, James caught on. “Neither have I,” he admitted. “But I want to try. I like you.”

A buzz thrummed within her at his directness. “I don’t get why considering I’ve been lying to you all day.” In fact, he was strangely…calm about it. Why wasn’t he angry with her?

“Well, yeah, that part kind of stinks,” he admitted, head bobbing from side to side, “but, the way I choose to look at it, you also went along with me all day when you could have left. Figured you have to like me a lot to go through all that trouble.” He paused and then his eyes widened.

Her pulse spiked. “What?”

“I just realized: this whole time, you were trying to keep people away because you want me all to yourself!” The swagger came back when he reached out tapped the tip of her nose; she almost missed it. “Not that I blame you.” Pointing at himself he added, “I wouldn’t want to give this away either.”

James’s beaming smile returned, eyes sparkling as if diamonds nestled within.

A wild sensation hit her at the sight of it: a sort of breathless elation, like climbing to the top of a mountain, being caressed by gentle winds only to sink into the crackling livewire of being so alive.

Mickey’s mouth opened and closed a few times, attempting to make words. Defeated, she pressed her lips together and rolled her eyes, her lips curling up into an unrestrained smile.

--------

“So?”

Mickey lifted her head from the sink; droplets of water rolled down her cheeks and curled beneath her chin. She dapped at her face with the hand towel nearby, set it aside, and turned to see Jazz leaning in the bathroom doorway, grinning from ear to ear. “So what?” she asked.

“You know what.” Her grin grew. “How did things with you and James end up? You didn’t say anything when Kendall and I came back to the apartment and you didn’t say anything on the bus ride back here. I want details. Spill.”

Mickey’s eyes rolled to the ceiling as she mulled it over. Jazz crossed her arms over her Richmond Braves pajama shirt. Mickey’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter, stopping only when her phone vibrated in the pocket of her lounge pants. Holding up a finger, she removed it only to experience a flutter in her stomach at the sight of James’s name on her screen next to the blinking text icon. With a swipe of her thumb, she opened the text.

James: See you at the studio tomorrow! Mickey: I’ll be the chick with the bass behind ya

“I’ll tell you after Kelly gets back,” Mickey said. At Jazz’s annoyed sigh she added, “Look, I don’t want to tell the story three times.” Reaching over, she flipped off the light to the bathroom and brushed past her, running to jump on her bed. Jazz landed next to her a second later, cuddling a large stuffed teddy bear to her chest. On the other side of the room Sammi and Mel crowded onto Sammi’s bed. Sammi’s fingers deftly twisted through the braids in Mel’s hair, adding new length with the fresh purple extensions. Mel carefully lifted a forkful of strawberry rhubarb pie to her mouth, balancing the plate on her knee. “Besides, I want to know who her super-secret date was.”

“It’s Gustavo. We all know it was Gustavo,” Jazz insisted.

“Yeah right,” Sammi said with a shake of her head; her new clover earrings shook with each turn of her head. “That’ll never happen.”

“It could!”

Mel grabbed a pillow off Sammi’s bed and threw it at Jazz, nailing her in the face. Beneath their laughter, Mickey snuck a look at her phone again. James had texted twice, one with a smiley face and another with a video attachment. She tapped her thumb against the screen. The video pulled up, filling the screen, and in seconds she watched a mirror shot of him dancing and celebrating in the bathroom.

She grinned.

The smug jerk.

[eirian-houpe]

The Library Beneath the Clock Tower - Chapter 50

Read previous chapters on AO3

Chapter 50 - Too Far, Too Fast, Too Soon.

They woke some time during the night. The moon had set and the only light in the room was a single shaft from a distant street light, but they needed no light to know each other once more.

Belle rolled Gold from his side, onto his back, and straddled him, kissing and nipping at his neck and shoulders until she felt him hard beneath her, then rising up, she took him deep inside of her again. He entwined their fingers as she moved against him, supporting her, thrusting with her. He filled her completely, and she could imagine nothing more than sharing this feeling over and over again for the rest of their lives.

“Belle!” he gasped, and she could tell by the warning tone in his voice that he could hold out no longer.

“Let go,” she breathed, and the thought that she had brought such pleasure to him, and the feeling of the hot pulses of his seed, fully inside of her, shattered her, and she cried out, falling against him as her sex clenched and milked his hardness of every drop of his essence.

Trembling and breathless, she lay her head against his shoulder, not moving from him, even as she felt him soften inside of her. He cupped her cheek to tilt her head, raising her mouth to meet his own in a long and lingering kiss, before the two of them curled up together, allowing the warmth of their shared pleasure to pull them back into a contented sleep.

Days passed into weeks, and barely a single day passed without some time spent in each other’s arms, indulging their passions, sharing the pleasures of their bodies, learning how better to tease and torment each other in the best of ways, and for Belle, there was barely a moment when he wasn’t on her mind, the way he looked, the way he felt, that warm, inviting, devilish glint in his eyes she saw when she knew he wanted her.

And she wanted him too… but she wanted more.

Not that there was anything wrong with their relationship as it was, they were highly compatible, each reading the others need and giving what was desired, but it was all behind closed doors - all grounded in the emotions and sensations of the physical, and Belle craved the other way around.

**

Her fingers trailed over his chest and abdomen, which twitched at her touch, his cock beginning to stir against his thigh. She tipped her head back so she could look at him as she lay, her head resting on his shoulder, and she felt his arm tighten around her waist, where he held her close.

“We should take a walk,” she murmured.

“Hmm?” He pulled back his head to look down at her, into her eyes.

“A walk,” she said. “I’d like to walk with you.”

“Where?” he asked, frowning. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” she said, “Maybe the woods? Isn’t that what couples do? Take walks together? Maybe go out somewhere?”

“Getting bored of me already?” He ran a teasing fingertip down the front of her, circling her nipple, swirling around her navel before teasing her folds.

Even as she opened to him, letting out a small whimper of her own growing need, she protested, “Of course not. I could never be bored of you, but I… I’d just like to… share a little more of our lives and enjoy the town together; the landmarks.”

“You think we’re ready for that?” he asked, his tone unreadable. “You think you’re ready?”

“I’m not ashamed to be seen with you, Lennox,” she said. “Just a walk, hmmm? That’s all I ask.”

He regarded her for a long time, before he let out a single nod of assent then he smiled, full of teasing promise and murmured, “Later,” before kissing her soundly.

Later turned out to be near dusk by the time they had showered and made themselves presentable to be in public, and they walked arm in arm through the park and along the water’s edge. They didn’t speak. Belle was lost in her thoughts, and assumed that Gold must be likewise.

As they walked her mind wandered to all of the wonderful time they had spent together over the last several weeks, but she also thought further back, to all of the times he had fought for her, protected her, included her - and of everything he had done for Paige and her mother. He made her feel that she was home. It was clear to her that she was in love with him, and had been for a long time - even before they began their physical relationship. No matter how often she had been angry with him she knew he was a good man, and she would prove it and everything would be all right; would fall into place.

In the coming days, there were no opportunities for her to enact her plan. With fall drawing to a close, and the uncooperative weather it brought about, she began to despair of ever being able to fulfill her wishes, and she began counting the days toward when winter weather would begin in earnest.

Luck was with her, though, with the dawning of a bright and unseasonably pleasant day and she wasted little time in preparing the picnic she had been planning, it seemed, for a thousand years. Then, with a spring in her step, she descended the stairs, stopped to check in on Ashley in the Library before heading toward Gold’s shop.

The bell above the door tinkled overhead as she stepped inside, and Gold looked up from the work he was doing, his face lighting up with a smile. Immaculate, and resplendently dressed, he made Belle’s belly flip with desire, but she pushed it away, determined they would get out, walk to her chosen spot and share the food and some good conversation. Later, perhaps, they might indulge their needs, but for right now, she wanted differently, wanted more.

“Belle,” Gold greeted her, and walked around the counter both to greet her with a kiss, and to take the weighty basket from her arm. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

He slipped his arm around her and began to lead her in the direction of the covered doorway that led to the back room. They had shared many passionate encounters in that room, and she blushed to think of some of them, but today that was not her intent. She slipped from beside him, turning to walk backwards and place a light hand in the middle of his chest.

“I thought,” she began, “well, it’s such a lovely day, I thought perhaps we might take a walk, have a picnic.”

“But the shop…?” he said.

“Will still be here when we get back,” she insisted. “Lennox, there’s no telling when the weather will be good enough for this again, maybe not until spring, and we deserve the time, the fresh air…”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you calling me a workaholic?”

“Some,” she confessed. “Come on… indulge me.”

Gold sighed, and glanced toward the back room, and then to the shop’s front door. “All right,” he conceded, and she didn’t miss the reluctant tone in his voice. “Let me just lock up in the back.”

Belle waited, chewing lightly on her lip, all but bouncing on her toes as she waited for him to return. She wanted, so badly, for everything to go right. She didn’t like to feel so uncertain. Finally he returned, basket still in hand, and offered her his arm.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“I thought we could take a walk first, find a pleasant place to share our picnic,” she answered, as though she didn’t already have a place in mind. She had found it on the walks she used to take alone, a part of the woods with a break in the trees that overlooked Storybrooke. It was spectacular in the evening, when the lights were just flickering to life. One of her favorite things to do was to sit and watch the night descend, and come to life in the town.

“Lead the way,” Gold answered, and walked beside her as they left the shop.

If he was fooled, or not, by her circumvention of the truth, Gold never made mention. He smiled as they went, listened kindly to her ramblings, and held her hand to assist her to make the few climbs that led to the spot where she wanted to take him. Only when she drew him to a halt, and took the blanket from the top of the basket to spread it out on the ground did he challenge softly, “You knew where we were coming all along.”

She didn’t want to lie, to start what she hoped would be the next step of their relationship on falsehood, so she nodded, her lip between her teeth. “I did,” she confessed, “but it’s so beautiful here and I… I wanted to share it with you.”

“I’m honored,” he began, “bu—”

She cut him off with a gentle finger pressed to his lips. “Humor me,” she said, and began to spread out the blanket, feeling Gold’s eyes on her as she did. They felt… heavy, somehow, and she tried not to worry, but whatever she feared, he joined her on the blanket, and began to spread out, and then enjoy the picnic all the same.

“This is lovely, Belle,” he told her, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble just for me.”

“It wasn’t any trouble,” she said, and trying to set an example, stretched out on her side, propping up her head on her hand, elbow leaning on the blanket. “I’ve wanted to do this for some time.”

He raised an eyebrow, and in answer she picked up one of the small savory pastries she had made, and offered it to Gold.  He leaned forward slowly to take it from her fingers, letting his tongue swirl around them as he took the morsel. She bit her lip to stifle a small moan as the action sent desire straight to her core. She pushed it away, shaking her head just a little.

“You don’t need to do all this to make me want you. I don’t think anything could ever change that.”

She shook her head again. “It’s not about wanting,” she said, “At least not physical want.”

He frowned. “What then?” he asked softly.

“When was the last time we actually talked about something?” she asked him.

“We talk all the time,” he said, and his frown deepened as she shook her head again.

“Not enough,” she said, “not the right things?”

“The right things?” he asked her, sounding more confused than ever. “What do you mean?”

“An actual conversation, Lennox,” she said. “About something more than how much we want one another.”  She sat up then, fixing him with an almost pained expression. “I want to know you; to understand how you feel, to be a part of your life.”

“You are a part of my life,” he told her. She shook her head.

“I’m a part of your lust,” she told him. “But it’s more than that for me.”

“Belle,” he said, and a breath sighed down his nose as he too sat up. “I told you once, I’m a difficult man to love.”

“That doesn’t mean that someone shouldn’t try,” she argued.

He shook his head. “You don’t want that,” he said.

“But I do,” she told him, reaching for his hand, “I already feel it.”

He snatched his hand away. “No!” he said, harsh, insistent. Belle though he sounded afraid. “That’s not what this is. It can’t be.”

He pushed himself to his feet and steadied himself on a nearby tree as he got his balance. Belle, too, stood, taking a step his way against his almost angry warning against it. She reached for him.

“I understand how it might make you feel… uncomfortable, after what happened before but—”

He pushed her then, pushed her away from him and she stumbled backward. “You understand nothing!” he snarled, voice raised. “No one, no one could ever love me!”

He turned then, snatching up his cane and began a rapid, limping gait back down the path toward Storybrooke.

“Lennox!” she called after him, and he paused for just a moment, and Belle thought - hoped - he might say something, change his mind and come back for them to talk things through, reach an understanding, but the pause was momentary before his back stiffened and he continued his hurried departure.

Belle staggered, leaning against the same tree on which Gold had steadied himself, looking first after Gold, who was by now out of sight, then down to Storybrooke, then finally to the picnic she had so lovingly prepared, and which remained only half shared.

Tears welled in her eyes.  He didn’t mean it. He couldn’t. He’d come around; come back to her, apologetic, with flowers - tell her he hadn’t meant it, that he loved her too. She sank to her haunches, pressing her fists to her eyes. She knew she was fooling herself. That it wasn’t as simple as that. She’d tried to move too fast. She had pushed him too soon.

She had ruined everything.

She didn’t know how long she had been there when she uncurled and looked around herself. She felt hollow, empty; as though she were in shock, and didn’t know what to do. With a trembling sigh, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone to call the one person to whom she knew she could talk.

That conversation did not go well either, and by the end of it she felt utterly spent, with only one tiny spark of hope in the darkness that had settled over her soul. Ruby was coming to Storybrooke.

[imaginapalminthemorning]

Study Me How to Please the Eye Indeed, Ch. 2

Ch. 1 here

Warnings: cursing

Introductions Pt. 2

Jesus, that kid is a lot, Janus grumbled as he readjusted himself on the tiny bed. Five minutes and he’s trying to get me to spill my whole life story.

It wasn’t even that great a story. Just your typical troubled child— bullied, outcast, problems with authority— the usual. Why did he care? And what’s so wrong with using a nickname? Lots of people go by nicknames. Why’d he have to call him out on that of all things?

Janus wondered if Remus’s story was much different. He certainly looked like a troubled kid. Leather jacket, ripped jeans, piercings everywhere. And that stupid mustache. He looked like he belonged in a strip club. Or a porno. What the hell was he doing here?

Oh, who am I to judge someone based on their appearance? Janus groaned and shoved his face into his pillow. I certainly wouldn’t know anything about that.

Don’t fall into old habits, Dee. You’re here to make a new start, remember? Clean slate. No mistakes. No judgment.

No lying.

Hell, that’s probably why he’s here too. A new start. Rude and annoying huh? Does he get that a lot? Hah. I fucking wonder why. Well, he won’t get that from me. We’ll keep each other in check. He’s sure to call me out on my bullshit; I’ll make sure to let him. Together we can start fresh.

But for now, I need to fucking sleep.

                                   *            *            *            *            *

It was well past dark when Janus heard the door open. Remus sauntered in and slammed the door behind him, causing Janus to flinch slightly. His head was still pounding, but he tried not to look too irritated.

“You were out late,” Janus said in as calm a tone as he could muster.

“Sorry, mom,” Remus mocked. He flopped down on his bed and let out a long sigh. He didn’t seem to be in the best of moods either. Janus decided not to push the issue, and went back to the book he was reading.

Remus watched Janus read for a while. “Did you get some sleep?” He finally asked.

“Some,” Janus replied.

“That’s good.” Remus turned his gaze back to the ceiling. Funny, he’d been so talkative earlier. What happened out there?

“What have you been up to?” Janus tried casually.

“Wandering the campus. Found the science building. It’s big.”

“Is that where your classes are gonna be?”

“Yep. Chem major,” Remus continued to speak to the ceiling. Janus wondered if this was payback for being so defensive earlier.

“What about you? What are you majoring in?”

“Philosophy.”

“Oh dope. That’s tough shit. You must be pretty smart.”

“I could say the same thing about a chemistry major.”

“Yeah well, I really just wanna learn how to make a bomb,” he paused a moment, but then turned and smiled at Janus. “Kidding.”

“Funny,” Janus said flatly. This guy is so weird.

“Hey, have you had dinner yet?” Remus suddenly popped up and sat cross-legged on the bed. He bounced slightly, causing the old wire frame to creak underneath him.

Janus was caught a bit off-guard by the sudden change in demeanor. “N-No, not yet.”

“Catch.”

Remus reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a small package, and tossed it to Janus. Janus turned it over in his hands, and found it to be a package of pop tarts— strawberry flavored.

“They have a whole stand of free snacks in the cafeteria. I took a bunch of ‘em,” Remus stated as he began unwrapping his own morsel.

“Healthy,” Janus said snidely, eyeing the sugar content.

“If you don’t want it, give it back,” Remus mumbled, half of the pop tart already in his mouth.

Janus very much would have given it back, if it weren’t for his growling stomach. As well as not sleeping, he also hadn’t eaten anything since that morning. And considering how late it was, the pop tart was probably his best option.

“Thanks,” he mumbled as he unwrapped the frosted pastry.

“Welcome,” Remus smiled, “figured you probably hadn’t eaten much. I’ll make sure to get something ‘healthier’ next time.”

“You got this specifically for me?”

“Of course not. I got it for me. But then I thought you might want some too, so I went back,” having practically inhaled his pastry, Remus tossed the wrapper and began work on a second one.

“That was... very thoughtful. Thank you,” Janus repeated.

“What can I say, I’m just a thoughtful guy,” Remus finished his second pack and laid back down on the bed, satisfied.

“And here I thought you were just another guy with dicks for brains.”

Remus shot a glance at Janus, surprised, but Janus just gave him an impish smile.

“Kidding.”

Remus’s face broke into a wide grin. He looked almost proud.

“I like you, Dee. I think we’re gonna get along just fine.”

Janus smiled as he took a bite out of his pop tart.

“Me too.”

******

“Hey Pat, you dropped this.”

“Oh, Lollihops!” Patton plucked the stuffed frog from Roman’s hands, and carefully set it down on his pillow next to the other two.

“So you like frogs, huh?” Roman commented.

“Yeah! I know it’s weird, a grown man with stuffed animals, but I just couldn’t leave home without em! They’re like my babies!” Patton smiled at the little trio. Lollihops, Croakington and Sir Hopsalot had stuck by Patton his whole life, even when everything around him was constantly changing. He wasn’t about to let them go anytime soon.

“They’re cute,” Roman said encouragingly, and gave Lollihops a little pat on the head. “Nothing wrong with a few little cuddly companions. As long as they make you happy right?”

“Yes, yes, exactly! Thank you!” Patton beamed with excitement. It felt so good to be validated, especially by someone like Roman. He figured Roman would think he was weird, or childish; after all, he seemed so strong, and mature, and confident,

and pretty,

but he also seemed really nice and compassionate. It was clear Roman was way out of Patton’s league, but he didn’t seem to mind. Patton counted his lucky stars that he got such a good roommate.

As he did, Patton noticed a ringed notebook sitting on the desk next to his bed. It wasn’t one of his; it was red and sparkly, and had a small drawing in the lower corner— a dragon wearing a little witches hat, etched in black ink.

“Hey Roman, is this yours?” Patton asked as he picked up the small notebook off the desk. Not thinking, he opened it up and started reading a page.

Roman turned and jumped when he saw Patton reading. “Oh, that’s nothing,” he said as he snatched the book out of Patton’s hands. “Just a journal.”

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” Patton said sheepishly. Come on, Pat, you should know better. That’s private!

But what he had seen had made him curious. He had to ask, “Do you write poems?”

Roman eyed Patton cautiously, still clutching the journal. He seemed to be deciding what to tell him.

“They’re... song lyrics, actually.”

“Really?” Patton’s jaw dropped, “That’s so cool! Do you sing?”

“Sort of,” Roman shifted in place, looking both flattered and embarrassed. “I’m better at guitar, though.”

“You play guitar?!” Patton’s eyes shone in excitement. “Wow! I wish I was talented like that. I can play Chopsticks on the piano but that’s about it. And you write your own songs?”

“Well...” Roman’s lack of enthusiasm was quite perplexing. What was he so embarrassed about? Patton wondered.

“I try to write songs,” Roman explained, “I haven’t finished any of them. None of them are very good anyway.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, they’re just... I don’t know, I just...”

Patton watched Roman fumble with the notebook as he fumbled over his words. Perhaps he wasn’t as confident as he looked. He needed some encouragement.

“Do you mind if I read some? I don’t want to overstep my boundaries, I get that it’s private, but...” Patton trailed off and waited for an answer.

Roman thought about it another moment, but finally relented and handed over the journal.

Patton opened it back up to the page he had seen, and read quietly. He read another page. And another. Each one was covered in beautiful phrases about love and loss, happiness and anger, risk and regret. Patton read and read, amazed at the talent and heart that was being poured out onto every page.

“These... are really good, Roman,” Patton spoke softly with wonder, “Why did you think they weren’t good?”

“I don’t know. They all sound so... cliché. Everybody writes love songs, you know? I wanna write something new, y’know, something nobody’s done before. I just always start out with an idea, but then... I start hating it halfway through. That’s why I never finish anything.”

Patton finally closed the notebook and handed it back to Roman. “Well, I think people write about love so much because there’s so many ways to talk about it. It’s not so much what you write about, it’s how you write it, right?” He gave Roman the warmest smile he could possibly manage, “And I think you write beautifully.”

Roman’s cheeks burned red, and he looked down at the little notebook. “You’re not just saying that?”

“Of course not!” Patton dared to place a hand on Roman’s shoulder. He didn’t shy away. “I think you’re a very talented individual, Roman, and I look forward to getting to know what you’re all about!”

Roman smiled, “Thanks Pat. I... I can call you Pat, right?”

Patton smiled back, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

******

The diner was small and cramped, but in a cozy kind of way. Logan and Virgil had settled on it after assessing the state of their wallets, and were now sat at the counter, watching the chefs bustle about in the kitchen. The smell of eggs, bacon, pies, pancakes, and maple syrup hung in the air. Oldies crackled over the speakers, almost drowned out by the mumble and bumble of conversation from the other patrons. Logan’s deep voice added to the sound, as he continued to ramble about this and that. He wasn’t paying much attention to what he was saying; he was focused more on Virgil’s reaction. The boy next to him sat hunched over, eyes averted, fidgeting with his fork. He looked like he was trying very hard not to look too uncomfortable.

Logan’s heart sank. He had been so excited when Virgil agreed to accompany him; the prospects of making a new friend were slim for Logan. It was his own fault, he knew. He just couldn’t seem to relate to others— his interests never matched those around him. Even now, the boy in the dark sweatshirt and shaggy black haircut couldn’t be less interested in what he had to say. However, Logan would have to share a room with him for the next four months at least, so this was not a relationship he could afford to lose. He decided to accept defeat before the situation got any worse.

“I’m talking your ear off, aren’t I?” Logan tried to sound pleasant and positive, and not disappointed at all.

Virgil perked up immediately. “No no, you’re fine. Sorry,” he said, almost instinctively.

Logan cocked his head, confused. “Why are you apologizing?”

“Oh, I just,” Virgil stuttered, “Sorry, I’m not— you know, sorry for not, contributing to the... the conversation... much...” his voice trailed off to a whisper as a soft pink spread across his pale cheeks.

Logan was taken aback. He had not expected an apology. What’s more, Virgil seemed embarrassed. Why would he be embarrassed?

“That’s nothing to apologize for,” Logan said earnestly, “I should be the one apologizing, I’m yammering away and not letting you get a word in.”

“Oh, that’s ok. I’m... not really a big talker,” Virgil dared a glance over at Logan, “If you couldn’t tell already.”

“Well, I tend to talk a little too much,” Logan smiled back, “If you couldn’t tell already. Just let me know if I start to annoy you. I won’t be offended at all.”

“Do people say that a lot?”

“What?”

“That you annoy them?”

Yes, thought Logan. All the time. Not in so many words, but in their actions, their reactions, and their subtle body language. A quiet sigh, a resigned look, a shallow excuse to end the conversation; no one ever mentioned it, but it was oh so clear to Logan— nobody seemed to care. No one had ever really listened. No one had tried to understand. No one had ever, ever said the words—

“You don’t annoy me,” Virgil’s voice cut through Logan’s thoughts and struck him at his core. He had set down his fork, and was staring intently at Logan with his dark eyes.

“I’m sorry if I made it seem that way. I’m just, not very good in social situations. I have a hard time talking, making eye contact and all that. But that doesn’t mean I’m not interested.” He looked down for a brief moment, and then back up again, “The truth is, I was really nervous to do this. I mean, I don’t know you. But you seem like a nice guy, and I mean, I’m gonna have to get to know you eventually, right? And if you don’t mind me being so quiet, I don’t mind just listening to you.” His cheeks flared pink again and he muttered quietly, “I really like listening to you.”

“...Oh.” Logan was struck speechless. Who was this boy, who spoke so softly, but so sincerely? Where had he learned to be so heartfelt with such simple words? Could he really be telling the truth? Logan searched his face for some semblance of deceit, but he found none. Only concern creeping up behind his eyes.

“Uh... are you ok?” Virgil asked cautiously.

“Yes!” Logan said a little too excitedly, “Yes. I just... don’t hear that very often. Thank you.”

Virgil smiled for the first time since the two had met. “No problem,” he said quietly.

As if following a cue, the waitress arrived with their orders, and the two boys turned their attention to eggs and hash browns. However, Logan’s mind continued to play the words over and over: You don’t annoy me. I like listening to you. You don’t annoy me. I like listening to you. You don’t annoy me...

Maybe, just maybe, this would be a friendship to last.

[thethespacecoyote]

Today was such a nice spring day, I just wanted to write some seasonal modern AU huxpreg. Just some fluff to mess around with. Enjoy!

Hux spends a lot of his free time on the backyard porch, now that the weather has become sunnier and more mild. Today it’s warm and a little breezy, and when Kylo pokes his head out of the sliding door he finds Hux calmly settled into one of the plush, pastel armchairs they keep for outdoor entertaining. He’s not asleep, but perhaps dozing off a little bit as he gazes out over the calmly ruffling grass and flower bushes in the backyard, his hands resting contently on the slight curve of his belly.

Hux is only four months along, but the presence of twins has caused him to grow more than usual. His skinny frame too contributes to the more noticeable swell, even when he hides it underneath a sweater like the soft grey number he’s currently wearing. Kylo warms at the sight as he carefully steps out onto the porch, a trickle of breeze sending his dark hair aflutter as he makes his way to his resting husband.

“Don’t be too hard on me,” he murmurs as he sets the plate on the little table in between his and Hux’s chair, following by a tall glass of iced black tea. Hux insists he can have sparing amounts of caffeine, even going so far as acquiring the affidavit of their obstetrician, so Kylo allows it as an occasional treat.

Hux tilts his head to the side, making an inquisitive sound at the sight of the scones.

“So this is what you’ve been up to…” He eases himself up slightly, hand cradling the underside of his belly as he adjusts his position in the chair. “You fancy yourself a baker now?”

“I’m trying. I think I’m pretty good at following directions.” Hux raises his eyebrow.

“You are? That’s news to me,” he snorts, but reaches to pick up one of the small scones nonetheless. He lifts it up to his eyes, examining it as if it were one of his engineering projects at work. Kylo doesn’t think they’re the most symmetrical scones in the world, perhaps, but he’d drizzled them with a lemon gaze and sprinkled bits of culinary lavender on top to spruce up the presentation. Even if they’re not the prettiest morsels, he’s sure they taste good. He’d sampled a bit of the dough before shaping and cutting it up, but it’s Hux’s opinion that ultimately counts.

Kylo folds his hands together, watching intently as Hux leans forward and sniffs the scone, before allowing himself a tentative nibble. At first his face keeps neutral, which gets Kylo’s heart in his throat, but then he goes in for another, bigger bite. Hux’s lips perk up at the edges as he lets out a little hum of satisfaction, finishing the first scone far more quickly than Kylo thought he would.

“Well? What’s the verdict?” Kylo asks, picking up one of the uglier scones himself, saving the best specimens for Hux. He watches as his husband washes the treat down with a prim sip of tea before, after a moment of hesitation, reaching for another.

“They’re not much to look at but...they’re passable.” Hux breaks one in half in his mouth, placing his hand in front of his lips as he chews. “Good job.”

Kylo preens at the compliment, happy to satisfy his husband even with his rudimentary baking skills. Once Hux finishes the second scone, he leans in a pecks a kiss against his crumb-flecked lips.

“I’ve been meaning to try to make you something for awhile. Hopefully with some more practice they’ll get even better.” He pops one into his mouth as Hux blushes, looking so sweet with the breeze ruffling his wispy hair.

“You dog. You’re going to fatten me up worse than these two.” He cradles his belly in his hands, smoothing his sweater out over the curve. Kylo has noticed Hux plumping up a little bit, especially in the chest and thighs, but unlike his husband he doesn’t consider it a bad thing at all.

“Shh. Just enjoy yourself and don’t worry about it. Doctor says you’re perfectly healthy. You can indulge a bit.”

Hux hums as he takes another, more contemplative sip of tea, his other palm still rubbing his belly. It’s too early for either of them to feel the movements of the twins, but they both eagerly await the day Hux senses the first joyful flutterings inside him.

“Another?” Kylo asks, picking up a scone practically draped in icing and holding it in front of Hux’s lips. His husband grimaces for a moment, hesitating at the idea of eating right from his hand, but eventually nips at the pastry bit by bit until he nearly reaches Kylo’s fingers.

“Careful with those teeth,” he chuckles, pulling back his hand, “I’ve seen for myself the kind of damage they can do.” Hux snaps at him playfully, before smirking and reclining back into his chair. He keeps his head to the side, gazing at Kylo with affection starting to surface in his eyes.

“It’s nice today,” he murmurs, offering a hand that Kylo eagerly takes. “We should enjoy the quiet time we have before these little ones are born.”

“Of course.” Kylo gently cradles his husband’s hand, rubbing the dainty skin. Hux looks so relaxed, softened by the pregnancy even when it frustrates him. He kisses one of his knuckles before resting Hux’s hand back against the table, enjoying the gentle movement of his chest and belly as he breathes, the sound calming him against the backdrop of rustling leaves as the breeze flutters through them. Even when Hux’s eyes close and he slips into a nap, Kylo stays by his side—already wondering what new kind of treats he’ll learn to make for his husband to keep him happy until the twins are born.

[the-knees-of-the-bees]

Sync [Chapter 2] - Ignis Scientia x FemReader

Oh lordt, its been 4 months since I last updated this fic. I applaud all you fic writers out there than can hammer out quality content so quickly. I’ve been in a writing rut these last few weeks which is why it’s taking me so long to update. There’s only one chapter left of this little fic so hopefully it won’t take me another 4 months to update @,@

[EDIT] - AAND once again mobile app completely destroys the formating, so all the section breaks disappear and everything is just mashed together.  So honestly this is better to read either on PC or on AO3.

Warnings/Themes - fluff, angst, anxiety, language, slight Gladioxreader?, non-canon storyline Word Count - 5,591 AO3 Link - “Begin At The Beginning” Screen shot - @dizzymoogle​

Could anything else possibly go wrong in your life?  Work, family, friends, your relationship; everything was pushing you to your limits.  You desperately needed a change of scenery but when a weekend of self-care suddenly goes awry, you wonder if your new found situation is not so bad after all…

“Begin at the beginning," the King said, very gravely, "and go on till you come to the end: then stop.”

It was a savory scent that stirred you awake.  The sizzle of a frying pan hissed from the kitchen of your apartment as you listened to the indistinct crackle beyond your bedroom door.  You groaned, wondering how long you had slept in this Sunday morning.  But the delicious aroma was already triggering your stomach, a deep growl rumbled inside of your abdomen causing you to roll over onto your side.  You were briefly irritated with yourself; you had set a goal to wake up early and get a few errands done by this weekend, but here you were again, plastered to your bed.  A long drawn out sigh exhaled out of your mouth.

Wait.  I… live alone.

Your eyes shot open.  The trailer’s generator hummed quietly as rays of sunlight spilled through the small set of blinds over the sink.  You pushed yourself up, shock hitting you again just like it did when you had first awoken in this world.  A muffled conversation could be heard just outside the trailer door.  You kicked your legs out from under the blanket, looking down to see Ignis’ clothes twisted around your body.  You looked around the interior of the trailer as you gripped his shirt, your brain now convinced of the tangibility of this fabricated place.  You threw your legs over the edge of the bed and quietly padded over to the door, kneeling down to hear them.  

Gladio’s deep voice was the easiest to distinguish, “Do you think she has amnesia?  She seemed really confused where she was.”

“I wonder if it’s safe to take her along,” Noct said.

Prompto set a stack of plates down on the table, “She looks harmless.  Not to mention she’s actually pretty cute.”

Oh my god, that really IS Prompto.  Your heart skipped when you heard Ignis reply, “It would be irresponsible of us to leave someone in distress alone in an unfamiliar locale.  As soon as she recalls where she is, we should take her back home at once.”

Ignis was truly a considerate man.  You pulled the collar of his shirt to your face, savoring its fresh linen smell one last time before having to inevitably surrender it.   They shuffled closer to the trailer door.  You frantically bounced back into bed, shoving yourself beneath the blanket.

The trailer door squeaked and gentle footsteps tapped along the floorboards.  Ignis cleared his throat, speaking softly, “[Y/N]… if you are able to eat, breakfast is ready.”

You pretended to stir awake, pushing yourself up slowly with your arms, “Thank you.  I’ll be out there in a minute,” you sleepily moaned as convincingly as you could.

He smiled and turned to exit when you stopped him.  

“Hey.   Umm, thanks for saving me yesterday.  I mean, all of you.  I’m sorry for how I was acting last night.  I’m just… not sure what’s going on.”

“That’s quite alright.  I promise we will do what we can to help you with your situation.”

You smiled at him, ducking your head when you realized a warmth was growing on your cheeks.

“I hope that you won’t be offended but…” he headed down the narrow hallway and pulled a slim garment closet open, “I laundered your dress for you.  I thought it might be a good start to the day if you were a bit more refreshed,” he held the dress on a hanger, perfectly clean and pressed.

The blush was now clearly evident on your face, “I… oh, wow… thank you.  You really didn’t have to do that.”

He placed it back into the closet, “It’s not a problem at all.  We’ll be outside whenever you are ready.”

You bobbed your head, “Okay, thanks so much again.”

He smiled in return and headed out the door.

The palms of your hands immediately slammed into your face, the heat radiating off of your skin as if it had ignited into flames.   Keep it together, keep it together.  You shifted back out of bed, ambling over to the closet and pulled out your dress.  The fresh smell was reminiscent of Ignis’ shirt causing the heat from your face to engulf the rest of your body.  You laid it carefully on the bed, smoothing out the fabric to prevent any wrinkles.  You hurried over to the sink and splashed your face with water before dressing yourself and heading outside.

The blinding sunlight smacked you in the face; you squinted your eyes and saw the boys sitting around a plastic lawn table.  Noct waved his hand up at you, beckoning you to join them.  You walked over as Prompto pulled a seat out to his left, patting the armrest for you to sit.  The table was filled with an amazing variety of breakfast food and drinks.  The growl in your stomach swiftly returned, announcing its demands to the world.

Noct chuckled, “Well at least you haven’t lost your appetite, sit down with us and eat.”

You slid into the chair.  Realization struck you again that you were sitting next to the boys.  THE FFXV BOYS.  

Ignis noticed your reluctance, “Please help yourself, there’s plenty to go around.”

You reached for a plate and began placing a few of your favorite items on it.  If I can taste it, then this is real, and it's really not a dream.  You bit down onto the tasty morsel on your fork.   Fuck, it’s real… and amazing.  Goddamnit Ignis.

Prompto was quick to make conversation, “So I don’t think we ever got to introduce ourselves yesterday.  I’m Prompto.” He threw his right arm across his chest to shake your hand.

If they only knew… You shook his hand, “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Gladiolus, but these jokers just call me Gladio.”

You gave him a weak smile and nodded.

“I’m Noctis… but you can just call me Noct.”

You gulped when you turned your attention to the advisor.  “My apologies for not properly introducing myself last night.  My name is Ignis.”

You could feel yourself sweating, “It’s nice to meet you all.  And thank you for saving me yesterday.”

“Eh no problem, it's the least we could do for— almost killing you,“  Prompto squeaked.

You huffed a laugh, “I was in the middle of the road, it's understandable.”

The four men resumed eating.  You pushed another forkful of food into your  mouth, stealing glances at each of the boys, still trying to verify everything you were witnessing.  

Prompto muffled a question through his stuffed mouth, “Soh werr are yoo frm?”

You nearly choked, “Umm… well.  I’m from [City].”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that place here in Lucis,” Noct stated, shoveling a mouthful of eggs into his mouth.

“Indeed, it's certainly a city that I’m unfamiliar with, what nation are you from?” Ignis asked.

Shit, I didn’t think this one through.  There’s no way in hell I can tell them.  They’ll really think I’m crazy.  Your fingers began to tremble as you set your fork down, shoving your now vacant hand into your lap, “Ahh… you know.  I'm not sure now.  My head is still… kinda fuzzy from yesterday.  I’m not sure if I’m recalling anything correctly.”

Noct nodded, “That’s okay, we’re going to head back to Insomnia.  We’ll figure it out there.”

You froze, what point of the game are we in right now??  They continued dining, you had to be tactful in your line of inquiry.  If there was any hint as to knowing what you knew, it would be a turn for the worse.  “I think I’ve heard of Insomnia before, where were you all heading before you found me?”

Prompto answered after gulping down a mouth full of pastry, “A place called Galdin Quay.  We’re trying to hitch a ride to Altissia.”

Your heart was pounding now.  Oh shit, are we at the beginning of the game?!  We can’t go back to Insomnia, its about to be attacked!  “Alt-eesha?”

“Yeah, the capital of Accordo.  We’re meeting with Lady Lunafreya,” he replied.

Gladio jumped in, “We’ll have to check the ferry schedule later.  We’ll drop you off first at the Citadel and take off afterwards.”

“NO!!” 

They froze as a silence washed over you all.  They each bore their eyes into you with a look of shock and confusion.  Now you had given yourself away… if not made yourself up to be some sort of spy.

Ignis raised his brow at you, “Is there a reason why not?”

Sweat began to collect along your back as you felt the blood drain from your face, “I… I just… don’t like big cities.  Insomnia… it's a big city, right?  I just know that they make me nervous for some reason.”

They exchanged questioning glances with one another.  Noct chimed in, “Uhh, well, I guess we can see if there’s an outpost with a medical station.”

You put your hands up in front of you, “N-no, that’s okay.  Honestly I’ll be fine if you leave me here.  Just head down to Galdin Quay.  I’ll just see if someone can come get me at the diner.”

Gladio narrowed his eyes at you, “You should come with us, our best bet to finding out your identity is at the Citadel.”

“R-really, I don’t want to be a burden.  I’m not hurt, I’ll find my bearings here once I call my family.”  You could sense their heightened level of caution towards you.  It was only a matter of time before they truly saw through your facade, even as obscure and equally mysterious to you as it appeared.  There were only two options before you: quickly downplay your identity or bail out, FAST.  

They quietly resumed eating, the clinking of their utensils pushed you further to the edge of a panic attack.  You could feel their eyes lingering on you in your periphery; you kept your gaze down at your plate, forcing the food down now to avoid any further detection in your odd behavior.

“I’m just gonna go grab anything I left in the trailer and I’ll be out of your guys’ hair.  Thanks again,” you nervously laughed as you stood up and cleared your plate.  You shuffled into the trailer, wildly searching the bed and counters.  Fuck, what am I doing, I didn’t even have anything on me when I got here.  You turned to head out of the trailer when you heard the door slam shut.

Gladio stood before you, his brows cross with a look of suspicion.  He strolled up to you slowly, “Forgot something?”

You gulped, looking around your immediate area as if you were sincerely hunting for a lost item of yours, “I— I guess I didn’t have my phone on me.  So I’ll have to use the one in the diner.”

He was closer now, his large frame towering over you.  

“I’ll just be going now,” you aimed to escape through the small space between the wall and him.

He slammed his palm against the wall, instantly cutting you off from your retreat.  You jumped at the sudden action.  He leaned over, placing his other palm along the opposite side of your head, caging you in.  “You’re coming with us, there’s no say in that.”

The heat from his body was creating a sauna between the two of in the intimate space, “I’m fine.  Seriously, I—I’ll be okay.”

He leaned his face in towards your own, his breath nearly grazing your skin, “No.  You’re not understanding this.  You’re coming with us until we figure out just who you are.”

Oh FUCK.

You were wedged snuggly between the Shield and Prompto in the back of the Regalia, an awkward silence occupying the small area between you all.  You kept your attention facing forward, too afraid to make eye contact with any of them.  Prompto nervously cleared his throat; you could tell he was debating about being the first to say something.  But Ignis beat him to it.

“Once we arrive at the Citadel, a member of the Kingsglaive will escort you to the hospital.  Afterwards… we’ll begin the investigation on your identity,” he eyed you through the rear view window.

You inhaled a shaky breath, “Y-yes, sir.”

He raised a brow at your proper address, “If there’s anything you can remember, it would be in your best interest to relay that information to us.” Gladio shifted in his seat.  A large blue sign was coming up on your right.  

[  I N S O M N I A  ]

  Your heart began to pound.  What were you going to do?  They absolutely could not go back to the city; Noct is the chosen king, you couldn’t jeopardize his fate and the return of light.  You had no choice, you had to make them turn around.

“I… I know you guys are not very trusting of me right now.  But please listen to me when I say this.  We cannot go to the city.”

Gladio twisted his body to face you, “Really now?  And why would that be?”  His voice was laced with irritation.

You gulped, averting your eyes from his, “It’s a bad idea… please, just turn the car around.”

Noct turned around in the passenger seat to look at you, “Tell us why we shouldn’t go back.  You definitely know something that we don’t.”

Oh god, what the hell do I do?!  “It’s… it’s not safe.”

Ignis prodded, “Are you referring to the treaty signing?”

“Yes, just… just turn around and I can explain.”

Gladio asserted, “Keep going Iggy.  She needs to be taken to the Citadel.”

“Hey, guys, maybe we should just listen to her first.  She might actually know something,” Prompto suggested, his brows knit with concern.

“There’s no discussing this, we’re heading back.  If something is going to happen, we need to be there to protect the city,” the Shield growled.

“If Prompto’s right, you need to tell us now before we head into the city,” Noct countered.

“I can’t believe you are actually debating this!” Gladio shouted back.

Their squabbling went on back and forth until a group of Imperial soldiers came into view.  You leaned forward as the Regalia closed on their proximity.  Your heart began to beat out of your chest; you had to think quick before they spotted you.

Ignis cut through the fight, “We will let the court decide what to do.  For now we will leave her in their custody.  We need to retain our scheduled meeting with Lady Lunafreya.”

Their bickering resumed once more when you noticed a single soldier turn its head towards the oncoming vehicle.  You had to act now.

You lunged over the center console, landing both of your hands on the steering wheel and yanking it to the right.  The Regalia swerved to the shoulder causing your bodies to slam against the interior panels.  The vehicle spun around as sand and rock scraped beneath the tires, kicking up a giant cloud of dust before coming to a halt. 

You groaned from the dull ache in your ribs, discovering that you had landed halfway onto Noctis and your ass nearly in the air.  The others moaned and grunted, stunned by the turn of events.  You slowly lifted your head, your hair tossled over your face as you looked around you.  A firm grasp suddenly wrapped around your waist as your body was hoisted up into the air.  You heard the door thrown open and your body carried with it.  You were set down on your feet as the others exited the car.  

“Who ARE you!” Gladio shouted.

You jumped at his verbal demand.  “Look, please, you just— you just have to believe me.  We have to get out of here,” you pleaded.

Ignis stepped towards you, “You need to be honest with us right now or there will be consequences.”

You slowly stepped backwards, “I want to tell you… but you won’t believe me.” Tears began to well up in your eyes.

Noct scrambled up to you, grabbing you by the shoulder, “What is going on in Insomnia, my father is there.  You need to tell me!”

The dewy buds began to stream down your cheeks, “It’s not safe… you’re not safe.  And we have to leave,” you begged the Prince.  

He calmed his voice a bit, “Look—”

A loud ring buzzed in his pocket.  He released an annoyed grumble and pulled his phone out.  He turned away with the phone to his ear.  Gladio raised his hand to point at you, “Don’t.  Move.”

“We’re just outside of Insomnia, why?” Noct said into the phone.  The others glanced at one another.  “But—” he was silenced for another minute before nodding, “Okay, call me back as soon as you hear something.  Please check on my father too.”  He hung up the call.

“Was that the Marshal?” Ignis asked.

Noctis sighed, “Yeah, he said to make sure we’re heading down to Galdin Quay.  He received a tip from a glaive that the Imperial forces are up to something.  He said get out of sight.”

The boys exchanged concerned looks.  A dull hum began to echo in the valley becoming more thunderous by the second.

“Imperials!” Prompto exclaimed.  A massive airship hovered above the scorching desert, its massive engines roaring aloud as it headed directly your way.

“Let’s get out of here then,” Gladio stated with an annoyed tone.

You quickly loaded back into the Regalia.  Ignis threw the car into drive and sped off towards Galdin Quay.

The sun began to set over the horizon, painting a brilliant watercolor wash of pinks and oranges across the wide canvas of sky.  The drive to the seaside resort was as expected, awkward and quiet.  You wondered what they were currently thinking of you.  Were you an Imperial spy?  An assassin?  Who knows what was going through their heads right now.  You shifted uneasily in your seat, trying your best not to disturb Gladio as he leaned against the door with his eyes buried in his book, a disgruntled look spread on his face.  

The salty scent of the ocean filled the air as the Regalia made its way down the winding road.  In any other scenario you would be elated to see the bustling tourist attraction but the dread of your fate was constantly lingering on your mind.  The car came to a stop in a parking spot, Ignis switched off the engine and you briefly sat in silence.  Gladio made the first move and shifted out of his seat, followed by the rest.  You took a single step away from the vehicle when a firm hand landed on your shoulder.

“Don’t even think about trying to escape.”  Gladio’s forbidding voice caused your body to lock up.  

Prompto tapped his fingertips together, “So what now?”

“I need to get a hold of Cor,” Noct pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts.  He paced around as he pressed the phone to his ear.  After a few seconds he groaned, dropping the phone from his temple and dialed the marshal’s number again.  

You looked around the area, the darkness of the night descended on the resort as flecks of stars slowly became more visible.  One by one the street lights flickered on, illuminating the dreamy getaway.

“Damnit.  He’s not answering,” Noct sighed, shoving his phone back in his pocket.

“We should head back,” Gladio started, “If the city’s in trouble we need to be there.”

Ignis interjected, “No.  The marshal gave us clear instructions to remain out of sight.  We will leave the safety of Insomnia in the hands of the Kingsglaive.  When the marshal is ready, we will rendezvouz.”

A blanket of anxiety began to cloak each of you.  Prompto looked over at Noctis, “What do you think?”

The prince nodded, “Iggy’s right, let’s stay put until we hear from Cor.”

Gladio shook his head, planting his hands on his hips, “This is ridiculous.”

“I’m just as worried as you, Gladio.  My dad is there signing the treaty.  Your dad is there too.  But Cor said to stay here, let’s just wait it out and see,” Noct snapped.  

The group became silent as they mulled over the decision.  Noct added, “Let’s just make camp, its been a long ass day already.”

Gladio rocked his head backward with a vexed sigh and threw the trunk open, sifting through the camping equipment.  Prompto quickly joined him at his side to collect the supplies.  Once they had gathered everything, the group began heading to the camp site along the beach.

You felt your arm suddenly tugged from behind.  You whipped your head around to see Ignis’ grasp around you, holding you back from continuing on.  Noct turned his body when he noticed the two of you had stopped.  Ignis shot him a knowing look.  Noct glanced at you then back to his advisor and nodded  before trudging through the sand towards the camp site with the other two men.

“You will accompany me for the time being.  There are several questions I have for you.”

You gulped, acquiescing to his order with a dip of your head.  He led the way towards the direction of the restaurant.  You both began crossing the boardwalk as the wooden planks creaked below your footsteps.  The silence was urking you badly, you internally debated about making a run for it, but you knew Ignis, you wouldn’t get far.  You would be cut down before you even made it to the parking lot.  The lights were dim over the walkway, most of the tourists had retreated to their hotel rooms for the night, allowing a tranquil silence to accompany the gentle crashing of the waves.  When you finally made it midway up the boardwalk, Ignis cleared his throat to stop you.

You turned to face him, your body beginning to tremble.  He folded his arms across his chest, staring down at you with a stern face as if he was waiting for you to spill your confession in one go.

Finally you spoke, raising your hands before you, “Ignis, look I—”

“Before you say anything, I need only one thing from you...”

You paused, caught off guard by his request.

“…the absolute truth.”

The blood drained from your face.   How is he going to believe me?  How do I even start explaining this?  That, what, he’s not real?  He’s just a CGI character created for entertainment?  You lowered your hands in defeat.  “I could tell you everything about me… and you wold NEVER believe me,” you choked out.

He furrowed his brow at you, remaining silent.

“You would lock me up in some prison or mental hospital where I’d rot to death…” your voice began to break.

“I would never do such a thing.”

“But if I’m a threat to Noctis then you would.”

“Are you?” he asked callously.

“No.  I never was,” you collected yourself as best you could, “I will tell you everything.  But it’s up to you to decide what to make of it.  Because, in all seriousness, I don’t know what’s happening.”

He uncrossed his arms, “Agreed, proceed then.”

You began outlining your life to him: where you were from, what you did for a living, your family, and your day to day musings.  You detailed the events of the previous night, how you had fallen asleep in your apartment and awoken on a desert highway.  You noticed midway through the explanation his expression had shifted to a look of bewilderment.  Until finally… you began describing your exact knowledge of them. 

“I don’t know why I’m here or how I ended up here.  Believe me, if there’s a reason…” you began tearing up again, “I would tell you.  But I don’t know what it is.”  You had finally let the tears spill, hunching over as you hugged your waist from the sharp pain of your sob.

You couldn’t recall how many minutes had passed but eventually a pair of hands were placed delicately on your shoulders.  “I believe you, as far-fetched as your story may seem.  We will find your answers.”

You instinctively leaned into his chest, gripping his shirt as you painted his top with your tears.   

“Perhaps your ability for foresight in this given situation may be advantageous.”

You craned your neck up at him, a look of confusion on your face.  “What do you mean?”

“You may be of great assistance if you are capable of seeing how our future unfolds.”

You thought about his suggestion before your eyes widened.  Altissia.  

“Ignis… you…”

He furrowed his brow, “What is it?”

“Altissia, you—”

“Hey guys?” a soft voice cut you off from behind.

“Prompto, what’s wrong?  Is Noct alright?” Ignis sharply inquired. 

“Yeah, he’s okay.  He wanted me to come get you, he got a  hold of Cor.”

“And what did the marshal say?”

“Um, well, you might want to hear it from Noct…” motioning for you both to follow him back to camp.  He turned his back and began jogging towards shore.

Ignis turned to follow when you grasped him by the shirt.  You looked at him with a pained expression, “Ignis… there’s so much… there’s so much that’s going to happen.”

He paused and stared at you for a moment, “Then stay with us.”

That night the events of Insomnia’s demise transpired just as you remembered in the film; only, Cor had relayed Insomnia’s attack to the group as it occurred throughout the evening.  Ignis didn’t read it on a newspaper tabloid and Noct was not delivered the news of his father’s death the next morning, he received it several minutes after it happened.  The night felt heavy as sorrow filled the hearts of the young men.  You were beginning to realize your presence here was already altering their storyline.  

In the late hours of the evening, a heavy rain swept through the beach, tearing up a portion of the camp site.  Ignis concluded that it was safe enough to rent a hotel considering the rumors of Noctis’ death had already made its rounds amongst the towns of Lucis, the fear of recognition was still minimal at this point.  Unfortunately the popular resort had already booked up the majority of its rooms due to the peak season for tourism but Ignis’ influence and persuasion managed to secure two rooms for the night.  

As you walked down the hallway towards your rooms, you grabbed Ignis by the sleeve.  “I don’t think Gladio is totally convinced of me being around Noctis.”

He pondered the thought, “I believe you’re right.  We’ll have you stay in the other room.”

As the other three men approached one of the vacant room doors, Ignis addressed the group, “I will keep watch on her in the other room.  It would be in our best interest to stay separated in the event someone were to spot us with an outsider.”

“Make sure she doesn’t leave your sight,” Gladio demanded.

“You need not worry.  We will see you all in the morning.”

Somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind you had once fantasized about staying in such a lavish resort like this one day.  Galdin Quay was notorious for its luxurious rooms and opulent dining, sparing no expense in catering to those who could afford it.  The room you now occupied was a prime example of this high class lifestyle; silk sheets, porcelain washroom, exotic liquors, all the bells and whistles an upscale resort could provide.  But here you were, curled up into a ball on the lone king size bed, staring at the intricate pattern of the designer pillowcase.  

You closed your eyes, inhaling deeply, trying to make sense of things.  You wrestled with the idea of telling them what was destined in their immediate future.  But you knew the ramifications would be too great; you’d practically change the fate of Lucis in a matter of minutes.  You grimaced at the thought of Gladio hating you even more.

Ignis sat on the edge of the bed across from you, “You should get some rest, tomorrow will be quite a taxing day.  We have yet to hear of the outcome of tonight’s attack.”

You frowned at his statement, you already knew, Insomnia would be in ruins.  “I’m scared, Ignis.”

“Scared of what?”

“I’m afraid of what’s going to happen the longer I stay here.”

He contemplated your words for a moment, “There’s an infinite amount of paths that can be paved for anyone, we cannot let ourselves dwell on choosing the right one each time.”

“But… I know everything that will happen to you all.  And now that I’m here, I can change that.  I’m already doing it right now as we speak.  And I’m terrified that it will make things much worse.”

“But that is something you cannot foresee, can you?”

You shook your head.

“Then we won’t know until then, so for now, just get some rest.”

You leaned your face into the pillow, your face pinching with worry.  You pulled your legs in tighter to your body, leaving crescent indentations along your skin where you had dug your nails.  He noticed your distressed body language and placed his hand on top of yours, the gesture causing your eyes to shoot open.  

“Thanks Iggy, I’m so sorry for everything.”

“It’s not your fault, we’ll figure it out one way or another.”

A comfortable silence fleetingly filled the room before Ignis cleared his throat with a sense of uneasiness, “I apologize I was not able to acquire a double bed room, I can sleep on the couch tonight.”

“Don’t do that, this is a king bed, we can both fit on here,” you didn’t want to come off too pushy, “But I understand if you still don’t trust me… I wouldn’t trust myself if I were you,” you chuckled, trying to dispel the nervousness that had befallen the two of you.

“I will be fine on the sofa.”

“Oh-kaaay then, guess I’ll have to enjoy this super comfy and expensive bed all by myself,” you jabbed.

He hesitated, finally giving in as he twisted his body around to lay along side you.  You curled up next to him, gazing over his profile allowing you to appreciate the beautiful features of his face.  You looked away when he glanced at you from the corner of his eye.  He was the only sense of comfort you had in this world; it had been less than twenty four hours since you arrived here and you already felt like an enemy of the state.  But from the moment he had grabbed your wrist and insisted that he would help you, you knew you could rely on him to keep you safe.  

But your mind quickly lingered to the fact that you were actively affecting their future.  Ignis would go blind, but if you are here, could you change that?   Would Prompto find out his origins the way he did?  Would Noct sacrifice himself in the end?  Anxiety was beginning to grip you as you felt a wave of paranoia wash over.  You stifled back the impending rush of panic beginning to take hold, but the thought of every scenario kept swarming your mind like wildfire.  He noticed your disposition had suddenly changed.

He turned his head to look at you, “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah… I’m fine.”  NO I’m not.  

You never felt so trapped like you did right now in this very moment.  You wanted answers, you wanted something or someone to tell you it was going to be okay.  Some way to know that your presence was not a curse for these men.  Until an idea hit you… 

An instant tingling sensation shot up your entire body, causing your face to flush.  You covered your embarrassed appearance with your hand.  But the seed was already planted, at this point what else could you do?  Fuck it, I’ve got nothing else to lose.

You raised a shaky hand and placed it on top of his, “Iggy, can I… can I cuddle with you?”  Your heart threatened to beat out of your chest.  You anxiously awaited, not completely surprised if he ended up shooting you down.

You peaked up at him to see his cheeks had turned a rosy pink, pursing his lips in contemplation.  After several awkward seconds, you quickly withdrew your hand, embarrassed now that you were so brazen to ask.

“I’m—I’m sorry… that was stupid of me to—”

He grabbed your hand, “It’s… it’s quite alright.  You’ve been through a lot today.  You must be feeling quite lonely.”

Your stomach tightened at his comment as a thin film of tears began to glaze over your eyes, “I’m not even sure if anyone knows that I’m gone… or even cares.”

“I am positive every one is searching for you as we speak.  Rest assured, I will not leave you alone in our world.”

For the first time since you arrived you felt at ease, “Thanks Iggy.”  You scooted your body closer to his, wrapping both of your hands around his tone bicep.  You buried your face into the top of his shoulder, releasing an exhaustive sigh, as your eyes fluttered shut.  He smelled wonderful, the clean linen scent from earlier had still lingered along the fabric of his shirt with a slight musk that made your skin tingle.

You could hear the rapid beat of his heart more clearly now.  He gulped, “If you’re… uncomfortable, please let me know.”

You hummed with a content smile, “It’s okay.  This is perfect.”

NOTES:

* Cor is referencing the events of the Kingsglaive movie and Nyx

* Quote at the very beginning is from Lewis Carol’s Alice in Wonderland

* THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED

[aeivyen]

Thrill of a Chase

A continuation of First Impressions

I keep Ivara’s purse in my pocket as I make my way up to the palace for the masquerade proper, reaching down to the velvet pouch every once in awhile to check it’s still there. With the money inside, I could afford a carriage to get there faster, and I wouldn’t have to carry all my things all the way up the stairs, but I don’t mind walking.

I don’t want to spend all of their money. 

By the time I reach the palace, the party is well underway. People are laughing, singing raucous tunes, chatting excitedly as they pour in and out of the palace, milling around the different rooms. After donning my mask I reach to check for the purse again, finding it still secure in my pocket, and I wonder how soon I should start to look for them.

My stomach rumbles from the climb, and I shake my head clear; I’ll eat first, refresh myself. It’s a party, and I don’t plan to spend all my time searching for one stranger among thousands. 

Mouth watering, I smell the feast before I can make it into the dining room. It’s different from last year, unfamiliar spices waft through the air, and I don’t recognize half of the dishes that line the table. I want to try them all. 

Taking a plate, I start to take samples from everything I can, eagerly trying any trifles small enough to eat in a single bite, but even so my plate fills up quickly. Reluctantly, I leave some of the dishes for later, finding a place to settle down and go over my crowded plate.

In the center of the plate is a small baked thing, rich with earthy spices -- one of the trifles I tried earlier. But -- I didn’t take two. How did that get there? I glance around, taking it gingerly, but nothing jumps out at me from the chaos of the party.

There are a few other things on my plate I didn’t put there; some I tried, some from the end of the table I haven’t gotten to yet. I look again to the trifle in my hand. I don’t feel it’s been tampered with, but I set it down all the same.

Closing my eyes, I reach out with my magic, trying to sense anything strange. I can feel Ivara’s purse in my pocket like a pinpoint of light, and there are other magics flitting in and out of my attention, but only one is familiar enough to focus on.

Opening my eyes, I stand carefully, trying to keep my attention extended on that distant point of light. Taking one of the treats I know I put on my plate, I try to seem casual as I make my way out into the hall, following as it weaves through the thinning crowd towards a distant part of the palace.

Was it Ivara who set these things on my plate? Had they been right next to me without me knowing? There’s almost no one mingling in the hallways as they lead me further in, and I catch a glimpse of their hair as they turn down the hallway just ahead of me.

I’m catching up. Careful not to spill my plate, I hurry forwards, trying to close the distance, and I hear giggling in the hall ahead. Again, I only catch a glimpse of their hair; they’re running from me. 

I’m not usually the one giving chase, but running after them is exhilarating. The corridors are maze-like, and I follow them in loops only discernible by passing the same groups of revelers over and over. After a few of these I pause, panting; I can feel them rushing down another familiar hall, and I run another direction to head them off. 

When I see them they’re panting too, wide grin on their face, plate balanced in each hand, contents protected by a glimmering layer of magic. They stop halfway down the hall from me, laughing through their labored breath, eyes crinkling through the eye holes of their mask. “Ha! I got you!”

“Oh, have you?” They shake their head, sticking their tongue out and bolting into another room.

“Hey!” I sprint after, and the door slams shut before I can reach it. I hear the lock click just as I get to it. “Hey, no fair!” I slap it with my free hand, frowning.

“You’re a witch aren’t you? You’re gonna let a locked door get in your way?” I hear them laugh through the door, and heat rises in my face.

“I don’t even have to be chasing you.” 

“But you are.”

“You put a bunch of food on my plate.”

“Mine are full, and I can only carry two.” They hum, and the lock clicks again before they open the door, peeking through. “We can share. I just wanted to get you somewhere with less people.”

"How come?"

"I don't like crowds." They shrug, stepping back as I press forwards, letting the door swing open into them. We're in one of the guest rooms, there's a cozy bed all made up in rich sheets, and a trunk tucked into a corner with a set of clothes folded neatly on top. Someone's using this room.

"I have another friend that's like that." I mutter as they lead me into the room. They sit cross-legged on the floor, setting their gathered plates in front of them and dispelling the magic around them. I follow their lead, sitting across from them and setting my plate with theirs. “Why’d you come here if you don’t like crowds?”

Their head tilts, lips pursing together. “I guess it just felt like the right thing to do. I usually trust things that feel right.” They explain, shrugging. “Were you gonna find me, even if I hadn’t tricked you into chasing me?”

“Maybe.” I shrug, trying to keep a smile from my face, but they grin slowly and I feel myself grinning with them shortly after. 

“Good. I knew it couldn’t be a coincidence.”

“What couldn’t be a coincidence?”

“Me falling into your tent. You set it up right outside my aunt’s place; I came out to get a peek at the princess, but someone ran ahead of me and pushed me right into you. We were meant to meet, I know it.” They grinned, taking one of the pastries they had set on my plate and popping it into their mouth. “So what’s your name, anyway? Guess you already know mine.”

“Right! Ivara.” Digging around in my pocket, I grab the velvet pouch to pass back to them. “Here’s that back.”

They felt it, frowning. “You didn’t even take anything from it.” Shaking their head, they opened it and took a few coins out, passing them back to me. “There, for the mask.”

“Have you even seen what it looks like yet?” Even this amount is more than what I usually charge for masks, and theirs is just a bunch of moth wings glued to wood. 

They blink, then shake their head. “I know I’ll like it.” They insist.

“How?”

“I saw your face when you put it on me.” Poking at one of their plates, they grab a slice of meat and offer it out to me. “Do I get to know your name or do I have to guess?”

I laugh, taking the morsel from them. “If you’re not even gonna look at my mask, then you can guess.”

They frown, squinting at me, and I can feel their magic focused in my direction. “Your name starts with -- an S?”

“Nope. You’re kinda close, though.”  

“An R?” I nearly choke. “It does?”

“No, no. You’re close again. My name has an S and an R, they’re just not the first letter.” I shake my head, sighing. “It’s Asra.”

“Asra.” They repeat quietly, nodding. “Yeah, that suits you. Asra.”

“Well thanks. I think Ivara suits you.” I laugh, but they’ve gone silent. After a moment, they take their mask off, holding it gingerly as they turn it to face them. As soon as they can see it their eyes go wide. “Sorry, I only tried the ugly masks on you.”

“I like it.” Shaking their head, they set it down, then grabbed some more of the food. “Hey, wanna trade tricks?”

“Like, magic tricks?” 

“Is there another kind? Hard to come across others, you know? I usually don’t like telling people what I can do, either. But you -- you look like you take pride in being a witch. And my aunt’s taught me a lot, too. I’m sure there are lots we can learn from each other.”

“Ah, yeah, sure. I guess? Sure. Now?”

“I don’t know if the when matters. We can just enjoy the masquerade for now.”

[writerofcreativity]

The Twelve Zodiac (Chapter 8)

"Remember, we need to be cautious of these things. I am not worried about their numbers but we can not let our guards down. First we need to find out what these things are capable of before we attack." Eiji said, he and Usagi are facing six Armadillidiidae but the Rabbit didn't listened to the Ox and runs towards one of the bugs.

Usagi used one of his blades to cut it but sparks came out once made contact. He is now behind the bug that he tried to cut "damn. It didn't die." He sounded disappointed as he rips his blindfold off his face.

"Sometimes I wonder if you are a child trapped inside a man's body." Eiji sighed.

"I'm in my 20's." Usagi replied focus his attention back to the fight.

The Ox wanted to know if these oversized insects have any powers that he need to be wary of, but engages combat, since none of these Armadillidiidae will stay still.

~~~

Navi continues to watch his teammates fight against these pill bugs. All of them had taken off their blindfold in order to fight, which surprises him because they are working together as a team but none of their strikes are working against the armored bugs.

"I would had never thought that the Celestial Beasts can be animals or insects. I merely thought they were just creatures taking on forms." He quietly spoke. It surprised him that none of these twelve warriors are panicking, they remained calm and fight. He cannot blamed them because they are fighters before being assembled as a team.

~~~

Toshiko has no worries about running out of ammunition when fighting her enemies, adversaries, or opponents. With her ability, Non-Reload, she can fire countless of bullets until her targets turned into a pile of flesh and stay dead but these insects are far different. Like crustaceans, these bugs have armor protecting their bodies from being hurt. Whenever Toshiko fires, her bullets are bounced back.

"How annoying. Well, at least I'm doing better than the Dog." She thought, not going to bother to see how he's doing.

Michio tried biting one of the pill bugs and hopefully injecting poison into them but his teeth can not penetrate their armor, forcing him to distance himself from it. "Damn. My teeth can't break through that armor and the same goes for my claws." He said.

"Inonoshishi! If we can't break through their shells then we need to attack underneath them!" He shouted.

"And how are we suppose to do that? Do we get near them then turn them over?" She asked.

Michio smiled "exactly." He said.

~~~

Sumihiko uses his grenades to kill one of the pill bugs but it was quick to defend itself from being blasted. So far he had killed one "these things are more troublesome than I had thought." He sighed.

Yoshimi agreed with the old man. Each time he uses his fists to punch these bugs, he faced recoiled, but thankfully his ability doesn't let him feeling pain in both hands. One bug got blasted by the grenade and it is turned upside down, the Horse saw this opportunity, runs towards it, and slams his left foot on it. It was like a grape exploding in a microwave. All of the pill bug's contents splattered everywhere, including on his leg.

Sumihiko saw what happened "Uuma, I have an idea. I'll flip these insects by using my explosives and once they are turned over, you kill them." He said.

"Understood." Yoshimi nodded.

~~~

Navi watched the battle from the start to finish. One by one, these twelve warriors found the pill bugs vulnerable area and killed them, although the Tatsumi brothers didn't need to find those spots. Those bugs got burned to ashes and froze until they are shattered like fine China. He had thought that Tsugiyoshi and Ryoka would have trouble but the Rat was smart to lure them into a small area and letting the Chicken deliver the Sky Burial.

"Looks like they can trust each other in battle." He smiled.

"Navi, you can considered the Celestial Beasts as part of your plan to those twelve work together. I had normally thought that they would try to kill one another but I was wrong. You are truly their planner." Duodecuple spoke.

The young man can feel both his eyes watering, he was touched to hear that "I'm honored to be a part of the team." He said as tears falls down from his face.

"Now is not the time to cry. They are starting to move to the goal, it is the race they want to win." How can he forget that? Navi quickly wiped away his tears and begins to run to the bridge that is the finishing line. He doesn't care who comes first, it's the trust that they accomplished.

~~~

"Wow, all of us are here." Ryoka said surprised. Five of her teammates are carrying their partners are running side by side but are determined to win.

Tsugiyoshi glanced to both right and left before looking back in front "seems like everyone is here, except for Sharyu nee-san and Dragon nii-san." He quietly spoke, wondering if they got killed by those insects.

"Don't count us dead. As if ore-sama would be killed by bugs."

Ahead of them is Nagayuki who is moving by sky and he is carrying Misaki, who waves her hand at them. He clearly didn't have to use his legs to move due to his ability and Misaki is blessed that she is partnered with him.

"No fair!" Usagi shouted.

"There's no need to act like a child. There are no winners yet." Eiji said.

"I don't care about the damn race! He's carrying my friend!" The Rabbit shouted.

"All of us are carrying someone." Michio spoke, making the five men agreed.

~~~

It is now night time. Everyone, including Navi, are eating dinner that was prepared by the four women, three of them felt like they wanted to help out.

"Navi-san, your exercises were a success. I believed that all of us are opening our trust to one another." Tsugiyoshi looked at the man.

He shook his head in disagreement "only half failed the first exercise. I had thought that the second one would be a failure as well but turned out I didn't need to do anything. All of you battled alongside without arguing." He said.

"Hmph! I got shot several of times without warning." Michio said, remembering in the midst of the battle that he got shot by Toshiko.

"It was your fault for getting in my way." The older woman replied as she eats her meal with elegance.

"Well I supposed that some of us learned a lesson. No matter how strong we are, we can not fight enemies that are strong or required some sort of help in order for us to kill it." Tsugiyoshi said.

All of them agreed, they needed some sort of help in order to flipped the pill bugs and kill them. Misaki gets up from her seat, walked towards the oven, and took out a cake that is in the pan. Those who are in the kitchen can smell how sweet it is "I made Castella, just to celebrate our teamwork. It looks plain but trust me, it will taste good and not dry." She said and noticed a hand slithering its way towards the pan. She slapped that hand away.

"Ow! For a pacifist, you can hit pretty hard." Takeyasu felt as if he used his right hand as a shield against a paintball.

"I don't like violence or use it but you still have food on your plate. No one gets my pastries unless they finished all of the morsels on their plate." She said.

Navi found it amusing that she is acting like a mother or should he say older sister, even though he doesn't know how old the others are.

"Sharyu nee-san, I finished cleaning my plate and I am ready for dessert."

Everybody at the table looked at their leader and sees the empty plate "as expected from a growing boy." Misaki grabs a knife, cuts the cake, and grabs a plate to put a piece for Tsugiyoshi and puts it in front of him. "Thank you, nee-san." He begins to eat his piece of cake.

"Sharyu. I want a piece too." Usagi spoke. She looked at him and saw his plate clean "alright, I'll give you a piece." She smiled.

"Those two are like little kids." Ryoka sighed which others agreed.

[aalt-ctrl-del]

06 _ Straw Spun to Silk

Graphic Content Warning - Gore, Mutilation, child death. Hey, enjoy!

First - A Gentleman in a Coat

Chapter 06 - For whom a Toll is Paid

 Hugo counted out the bills his mother had given him, and passed them up to the cashier. “Yep. She keeps me pretty busy.”

 The aged cashier, known by the kids as Mr. Packle, made change and offered the few coins to Hugo.  “That’s the way it works, ain’t it? Keep you out of trouble and on the straight and narrow.”

 Hugo whistled upward, puffing the stringy bangs out of his eyelashes. “I’m capable of keeping to myself occupied with my studies, I don’t need her help.”

 For the remainder of the day, Hugo’s mother – who delighted in having her youngest son on hand to complete the remedial chores around the household – had him polish the fixtures and the silver. She wasn’t expecting guests, nor did the silver need shining specifically, but she usually busied Hugo with those sort of tasks that were small and easy to overlook but somehow she managed to complicate the tedious task with asinine specifics. A room had to be organized a precise way, there was a particular method for polishing furniture, or she would devise new procedures for undertaking the job. Hugo would much rather travel with his father and brother, work in the field. At least progress would be made, and when the work was done it  was done, no argument or denying.

 Though knowing his mother, given the opportunity she’d find a way to contradict his efforts.

 “Thanks, Mr. Packel.” Hugo collected his cotton satchel, and navigated his way out of the grocers mart.

 Some small flicker of goodwill was in Hugo’s heart. He picked up his step as he waltzed down the sidewalk, passing shoppers and bargain buyers haggling at the store fronts with vendors. Hugo weaved in and around the barters; a car puttered by and honked its horn. Hugo found his path and emerged from the bustle of traders on the edge of the sidewalk. He got across the road and hurried to the vendor of the vegetable cart.

 He used the last of his money on half a dozen carrots, and made his way out of the hustle busy of the market street. The chatter on the street dissolved at his back and cut off completely, as Hugo turned the block corner. He made a double check of his lift and the goods – flour, salt, baking soda, and the carrots. He picked up the pace, taking the shortcut through the new plaza district.

 One quality Hugo appreciated of his mother, was that she did was an aggressive cook and baked on the weekends; usually on the Friday. She’d bake up a large pastry or numerous candy treats, and take them for Sunday service. That was something he could look forward to.

 Hugo stopped in his tracks almost suddenly. It was past wok hours for the work crew to be on the construction site; all the supplies sat out in designated clusters, piles of sandbags covered with a tarp, a stack of brick – the frame of the to be plaza was set up, portions of the walls were assembled in some areas, and hastily construed fences barred out adventurous youths. Like his friends.

 There is was again. Hugo peered through the misty orange vapor of the slanting light, sifting shadows with his eyes alone. The noise bounded up the walls, a subtle clic-click, similar to a snicker, though it wasn’t a breathy laugh. It was mocking. That’s how he described it.

 The weight of his groceries bore into Hugo’s shoulder. He hiked the satchel up his neck, and turned to cut across the open flat of the cement foundation.

 It taunted him. The click-click. Pause. click-click-click-click. Pause. As if someone was tattooing out morose code, but they couldn’t get the sequence right. There was a definite pattern, he was sure.

 Hugo diverted from his path to the road over, and returned to the jobsite. He shifted the grocery bag around, and revitalized his search. The noise crept through the gaping spaces of the unfinished walls, but always remained out of his reach. Yet Hugo was certain it wasn’t moving, the ticking was just to somber and faint he couldn’t grasp and accurate lead.  He poked around ravaged shrubs and dugouts, checked under some of the larger equipment left out. Numerous times he called it quits and dismissed the sound, but it would become insistent.

 On the furthest side of the construction lot, where most of the new plaza was assembled and resembled the district the buildings were meant to become, Hugo located an excavated sewer line.  The ground was dug out and sloped into the channel opening, but a shabby corral barred off the opening. A sign placed on the fence read:

 DO NOT ENTER

 A portion of the fence was knocked over; not that the fence was a construct that could keep out the adventurous, it was a superficial guideline.

 Hugo went on his way. Nearly an hour had passed since he began his diversion; his mother wouldn’t be worried, not yet, but he wanted to get home early and have a chance to screw around with his spare time. Cutting through the lot stole back nearly an hour of time lost with walking.

 For several minutes Hugo stood, the brittle leaves and branches pinched his palm. He was following the trail along the cement castoff and pulled aside dying shrubs, only to be met by the source of the sounds.

 Click-click

 An oversized crab camped in the misshapen rolls of discard and hardened cement. The coloration was pleasant but unremarkable, but the size and pitch of the sunlight prickled across its bone dry shell; iridescent colors glittered with peacock and ruby sparkles. The sliver of light shifted, and the majestic prickle of accents doused immediately leaving the crab drab and dusty, like bleached river stones.

 Except for the fact the crab, as mentioned, was large. Not oversized, but enormous – for a common crab – larger even than the deep sea dwelling crustaceans. The thing was as large as a dog, with a five foot stretch knee joint to knee joint, its many legs nestled beneath its chest. How large was it spread out? The dome was three feet across.

 And it had Martin by the ass. The phrase might’ve been amusing, if not appalling by appearance – “A crab had Martin by the ASS. That’s why he missed class.” Unfortunately, Martin’s backside was splint above the hip, and the lower half of his vertebra hung out, along with ravels of withering intestines. Buckets of blood gushed out, flowing as freely as water in a crystal clear brook and rolling in among the rivets and valleys of the cement’s frozen waves.

 Click-click>.

 The mandibles of the crab glistened wet and red, vibrant. The click came whenever it snipped a bit of tissue or bone from Martin’s spine, and delivered the morsel to its mandibles. The oblong, black eye beans gazed fixedly up at Hugo. The crab held near perfectly steady, aside from its chittering face portions, and the large, claws.

 Click-click. Mocked the crab, as it pruned through its meal.

 Martin stared directly through Hugo, face pale and puffy, cheeks soaked in tears. Eyes pleading. His fingers, bloodied and worn to the bone, grappled at the edges of the cement. A soft gurgling formed deep in the boy’s chest. This was where Hugo became disconcerted, and wondered if Martin were really alive or not.

 Hugo promptly evicted the contents of his stomach—

 “Hugo!”  

 “It’s nothing!”

 __

 Chad and Neil gawked at him. Feeling self-conscious suddenly, Hugo tucked his face down behind his knees – the immediate world shifted about him, taking color and shape with each blink.

 The school ground was wild with activity; there was a game of soccer, and a few of the ‘girl cliques’ meandered on the outskirts, gossiping and being girls. Hugo pressed his backside more against the tree; the bark bit into his ribs.

 “Had a lot on my mind,” Hugo offered, as way of explaining. He vaguely recalled the discussion up to this point; he’d been zoning out. Hard. “Can we change the subject? Talk about Hubert sneaking the frogs into the girls bathroom? That was amazing, wasn’t it?”

 No, it wasn’t. The kid was a complete stump, and no one liked Hubert for this exact reason.

 After a second or two of deep reflection, Neil uttered, “It’s been two days.”

 Chad plucked at the dry bits of grass and piled up a few leaves. “Kevin was back in class. He seemed kinda out of it, but I think someone said it was pox.”

 “Maybe that’s what’s going around?” Neil posed. Neither Chad or Hugo were quick to reply. After a short span, Chad did murmur softly:

 “I already had the pox.” But if he understood it right, Chicken-pox usually hit in a periodic epidemic. He only remembered because when his older brother caught the illness years back, his mother made a point to let the play together. A few other kids from the neighborhood came over for a playdate or something, and from there it spread. The intent wasn’t malicious, but Sterling explained that once they got it they would never come down with it again. Parents liked to get it out of the way. That was how….

 Neil was the first to look up. He tried to say something, but the taller boy cut him off.

 “Why so gloomy?” Tucker stood in his trim pants, his button up shirt and little tie. He always came to school dressed up.

 “We were worried about you!” Neil boomed.

 Hugo did something uncharacteristic. He rose to his feet and walked up wot Tucker and put his arms around the other boy’s shoulders, and hugged him. None of them said a word. Tucker took it in, a bit awkward but genuinely understanding. After a long moment Hugo stepped back, but didn’t leave Tucker’s side. He wore a tense, concentrated scowl.

 “Why?” Tucker prompted. “I was helping in my dad’s shop. Did y’all forget that?” Neil and Chad murmured between themselves. It was new, routine work Tucker’s father wanted his son concentrating on. Not that school wasn’t important, but earning an income was what his family managed on.

 “Kinda,” Neil hummed. At this time, Tucker took his place on the ground, and Hugo descended with him. “We were talkin’ about the kids that hadn’t been showing up.”

 “So?” Tucker edge on. “We’re getting close to fall, and a lot of the older ones get taken out to work for the families. Same as me. You’re not used to it, ‘cuz this is probably the first year you’re seein’ it. Right Hugo? Gimmie a word, here.”

 At first Hugo didn’t answer. Tucker had to nudge Hugo, to get a response; Hugo jumped. “Yep. Exactly like – what are we talking about?”

 The yard bell chimed. The school yard of giggling and animate children began to shift, and converge on the steps to the building.

 Tucker plucked himself up off the lawn, and helped Chad to his feet. They plucked up their books and bags, and headed for the doors; minor chatter darted among them, voices raised over the rapid fire of their peers.

 “You shouldn’t have worried yourselves like that,” Tucker interjected. “Or at least come by to check up.”

 “I guess,” Neil mumbled.  He stepped off to the side of the front doors; Hugo and Chad joined him, along with Tucker. Neil looked at each friend in turn as he spoke. “But the adults, the parents mostly, have gotten real jittery. My mom’s gone real tight with my going’s and coming’s, and she doesn’t want me nowhere near the woods – she won’t hardly let me go into town on my own.”

 Tucker looked from Neil, to Hugo. Neil resumed, or tried.

 Tucker broken in, with, “We can talk later at lunch. Let’s not get saddled with detention, and muck it up. Right? Let’s go.” He ruffled Chad’s hair, and weaved his way in among the other students; Neil and Hugo a close follow.

 This didn’t put them back into rightful order, but Chad figured Tucker had a point with all the students not in class. If the teachers were already made aware prior, that would explain their dismissal of the absences. It did put Chad to ease, if a touch but that was enough. Tucker would be more familiar with these occurrences, he and Hugo were older than him, and Neil.

 That was how he initially met Tucker, and in effect Hugo. They were two of the playmates that came by, and they sort of hung out since. Sterling never really befriended Tucker, but there wasn’t animosity between them; it didn’t make sense to Chad. Yet somehow, it made Chad’s relationship with his brother feel that much more special. Sterling let Chad hang out with him and his friends, and Sterling’s friends liked him too.

 But his parents forbade Felix and Anthony from visiting their home, from visiting him. Chad only hoped they knew something about where Sterling went

 Chad went to his class, surrounded by his peers and listened to the teacher drone about history and arithmetic. It was so boring, so bland. Safe. He was safe here.

 Why did he feel the need to evaluate his environment; if he was safe or not? This was the forefront of his focus.

 Chad glanced to his neighbor, Tammy. Tammy was sketching on some construction paper, scrawling in what resembled an audience of people; if the bulbous figures were something to go by. The center subject of her art piece looked… familiar. Chad shifted a little in his chair and edged his eyes a little over, trying to piece together the shape. Tammy was wholly focused on her picture, eyes wide and fist tight on the crayon she scratched over the paper.

 A tall person, with hair like fire. And teeth.

 Years later, lunch and break time finally hit. Chad ventured outside with his lunch, and found Neil with Hugo already at their meeting spot beneath the tree.

 “—He’s probably collecting the work he missed,” Neil was saying.

 “Hey,” Chad chirped. He took his usual place in the grass beside Hugo; the grass was thin and flattened in that spot, signifying a common perch. This day Chad had his own lunch, and opened the sack that held his sandwich and thermos. When no one spoke, Chad looked up from Neil to Hugo.

 “Martin’s—” Neil cut off, twice. He swallowed a breath. “His remains were found by an access pipe.”

 “Remains,” Chad echoed, numb. He set his sandwich aside.

 “When there isn’t much left to look at,” Hugo added. He wasn’t eating, and it didn’t look like he’d gotten into his lunch box. “We should talk about something else.”

 “You don’t think it’s a little weird?” Neil grumbled. “The sewer access, Chad’s dream, and now Martin—”

 “It’s just the time of year,” Hugo harped back. He sat with his hands fitted in the crook of his bent knees, glaring at Neil. “In a few weeks, you’ll see. Kids’ll be back in session, and you’ll forget all about this.”

 Chad nibbled his sandwich as Neil and Hugo jabbed at each other with their words, and the argument. He thought about making an excuse and finding a new place to sit, in peace. The kids chattered and squealed; all play and games, full of carefree jubilance. Chad skimmed over the faces trying to identify Tammy, but it was the entirety of the school and he couldn’t remember what dress she was wearing.

 Tucker came hurried across the schoolyard, picking up pace as he neared the trio and the increasing passion of the bickering. Neil and Hugo were on their feet, shoving the other back and back.  

 “Whoa-whoa, what’re you on about now?” Tucker snared the two and scrambled to hang them back, and keep from collapsing on Chad – who hadn’t budged in the physical blight.

 “Neil keeps scaring Chad,” Hugo spat, with another swing toward Neil.

 Neil ducked the jab. “Am not!” But he did cease struggling, and leaned a little closer to Tucker. “But something – you heard about Martin. Chad was having nightmares about being lost in the sewers, and I think it’s like a premonition. You didn’t know anything about Martin, did you?”

 Chad jarred a little when he realized Neil was addressing him. “No….”

 “What sort of dream?” Tucker shook the two boys, and pushed them away from the other. The three took their places, Hugo now a extra inches further from Neil. Tucker capped a hand on Hugo’s shoulder, and gave Chad his full focus. In one hand he carried a lithe bundled package – and without releasing Hugo – began unwrapping the package. It smelled of eggs and butter.

 “I don’t remember,” Chad uttered, barely a whisper. He plucked up and took a breath. “Not much, I mean. No, I don’t know. I remember being lost, and someone grabbing me.” He shrugged his shoulders.

 There was more to it. Chad was a bit disjointed, in his recount of what his parents told him. He was found ‘near’ the Ceniplex. Unconscious. That actually was a lie, his parents didn’t specify where they located him and were persistent about avoiding the topic, but the image of the Cineplex was a forefront constant in his mind. Chad didn’t remember going there, being there, or anything remotely related to reaching the heart of town. The nightmare wouldn’t stop, but nothing compared to the day he spent in bed ill and confused. He recalled why he was in the sewers – searching for Sterling – but not how he got there, or how he got out; let alone anything more than being aimlessly lost and terrified of nothing.

 Out of the corner of his eye, Chad swore he saw Hugo pale – he was like a sheet, his eyes a little hollow, and sweat beaded on his brow.

 “There are sewers all over the town,” Hugo mentioned.

 “But not a lot of open channels, like this one,” Neil countereded.  The quadrat sat silent for a spell, nibbling on their meals and not looking too carefully at one another.

 “After class,” Hugo began. He still hadn’t moved to address his lunch, “we can check out the line? See if anything’s down there, maybe Chaddy’ll remember something.”

 “Don’t call me Chaddy—”

 “Can you come up with a worst idea?” Neil barked. He crushed his wrapped and packed up his lunch sack. “Let’s head into the sewers! Everyone, off to the sewers! We’ll solve this case.”

 Tucker coughed. Proper and polite, as always. “We’d be together, like when we go into the woods. And the police had to have searched the area too, so it’s not like someone’s there.”

 “I like how you assume it’s some kind of person,” Neil rebuked, voice thick and irritated. “Gee, wouldn’t it be awful if I had to go on living through my next birthday!”

 “You’re the only one worked up about this.” Tucker took a bite of his rolled sandwich. “I mean going and checking out the sewer. Martin’s death – that’s terrible. And class is going on like normal. But… this might be related.” He took another bite, chewed, and swallowed. “There’ve been missing kids posters going up. Ms. Calico came by the store, and asked if she could put one up in our window. She home schools her kids.” None of the three moved or spoke. “That’s the second one this month.”

 Chad looked to Tucker. “But you said—”

 “Before they told us about Martin.” Tucker looked to Neil. “We shouldn’t have a worry. We probably won’t even see anything. And, we won’t spend more than an hour worth—”

 In a brisk move, Chad hefted up his sack and rushed back towards the school front. He dove directly through children hand in hand, spinning and swing arms – he knocked over an taller boy on his warpath.

 “Goddamnit! Look what y’a done!” Neil lurched up, but Tucker snatched his arm.

 “Let him go! Let him run off some steam, or think.” No further word or action was required to solace Neil; he settled back down, and returned to his meal. The kids in the school yard were quickly recovering.

 “You still want to check it out?” Hugo prodded.

 “Mm. Yeah, as soon as we get out.” Tucker look at Neil, and waited. “You don’t have to if you’re that scared.”  Hugo began low clucking, but didn’t appear to be enjoying the mockery. Tucker reached over and shoved Hugo over.

 “Someone should probably go,” Neil mumbled. “Make sure you don’t make more bad choices. Safety in numbers.”

 “Yeah,” Tucker sighed. He checked the school yard, and ideally listened to his peers sprinting around on the open field. He wanted everything to go back to the way it was, before Sterling ran away. He was the only child of his parents, but he still felt for Chad. Maybe because he didn’t have younger siblings to annoy him, made him receptive of Chad’s presence. Chad was practical and easy to hang around with, even if he was in a mood. Getting bumped to eldest sibling status crushed some of the childish naivety out of him.

 “Yeah,” he repeated, when the school bell began to chime.

Next - As Above