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jimlingss · 4 years

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Until Yesterday

➜ Words: 10.4k

➜ Genres: 75% Fluff, 22% Angst, 3% Smut

➜ Summary: You and Taehyung are hopeless as you are hopeless romantics. But five months after tying the knot and saying "I do", you're hospitalized after a car accident with him. But upon waking up, the doctors tell you that you don't have a husband.

➜ Notes: Inspired by the movie The Vow (2012) and a bit of The Notebook (2004). This is purely an indulgent fic for all my hopeless romantics out there, so it’s a bit different from my usual!

cr.

Marriage was nothing like they told you. It’s true that not much has changed from when you were dating or engaged, that merely the title of your relationship has slightly altered, but you have no regrets doing it at all. They always told you to wait until the honeymoon phase was over — that you'll find yourself tired and driven crazy by him. They told you to wait a few years down the line when you’re not having sex anymore and you’ll be so sick of each other, it’ll be like living with an awful roommate-child than being a couple in love. You’ll be bored when something becomes a normal routine, they said. But it isn’t like that at all. If anything, you’re more in love with Taehyung than ever. “We should put the couch right here.” “Well, we need to buy a couch first, Tae.” “Didn’t you like the leather one we saw today?” “I mean...I didn’t love it and it’s a bit pricey, don’t you think?” “It’s fine. Leave it to me and the bank account!” The blonde grins and pats his own chest and it only garners your scoff. “I’ll take care of you. It’s the least I can do.” “I make the same as you, idiot.” It took years of hard work and dedication for the two of you to get to where you are, to have landed your dream jobs and built your dream house together. But of all the sweat and tears, you wouldn’t trade the outcome for anything else. The house was newly built in a developing neighbourhood, the scent of cut wood and paint still lingering in each room. The white picket fence surrounds the seashell home with the dark brown roof, glass windows large and bringing light into the open concept structure along with the skylights. It has the cherry wood door reminiscent to that of your old dollhouse and a swing out back tied to the tree that Taehyung wanted. It was all the two of you could’ve ever dreamed of and you’re eager to move in, to bring in your furniture and allow this home to grow with you. “Why is the master bedroom larger than I remembered?” Taehyung’s laugh echoes down the hall and you hear footsteps becoming louder against the wooden floorboards. “Maybe the construction team came in during the middle of the night and expanded the room for us for free.” “Yeah maybe,” you playfully quip back at him. “Maybe they’ll consider expanding our backyard too, so we can put that marble fountain in. It might cost more than this house, but you said I could trust in you and the bank account, right?” Taehyung peels you off of him when you glue yourself to his side and giggle. Batting your lashes at him has little effect. “Fountain is still a no-go, sweetheart.” You grin at him and waltz to the adjacent room, peeking your head into the modest space. “We still need to decide what to do with this spare room, Taehyung. If we want to turn it into another bedroom for when your mom visits or maybe an office.” Suddenly, arms wrap around your waist and you ease as your husband props his chin on your shoulder. It’s one of his many habits of his that you love. “How about we save it for a nursery?” The corner of your mouth quirks and you turn your head. “Are you sure?” “As sure if you are.” You spin around in his arms to plant a kiss against his mouth — one where Taehyung steals the opportunity and deepens it, catching you off guard. He pulls you in by your waist when you threaten to pull apart and he smiles at the whimper that comes out of you. When the pair of you finally part, you’re unable to resist the smile that spreads into your cheeks and your arms loop around his neck. “Kim Taehyung, aren’t you blessed? There’s no one I’d rather have a baby with than you.” His mouth forms into a rectangular grin. “You shouldn’t tempt me when we’re going to be late for our reservations already.” “Late?” Your lips fall and you check your watch before your eyes grow wide. Taehyung laughs and strolls behind you as you rush out, grabbing your coat and screaming at him to get the car started. It’s another one of those date nights. One where intimate conversations are shared over a candlelight dinner. Until Taehyung accidentally catches the tablecloth on fire and the candlelight is removed by an exasperated waiter and the intimacy in your discussion ends up with him doing something dumb and water nearly spewing out of your nose from laughing, and the other patrons are glaring at the ruined atmosphere. Still, with a generous tip paid, you leave full and happy. “Anything you want to watch tonight?” you ask as he’s driving. It’s peaceful with the roads emptier at this time of night and the radio playing some generic pop song in the back. You count the lamp posts that pass by. “Hmm...how about we do something else tonight.” Your head turns. “Like what?” Taehyung steals a glance at you and smirks. “I was thinking that we would drive back to the new house and break in that mattress we just got. Maybe get that kid you were talking about.” You scoff, looking straight out the windshield as you feel your face heat. Even after so many years with him, he still knew what to say to affect you. “It’s not that easy, you know, and that mattress is still wrapped in the living room.” “It’s fine. Better start now than later. And it’s our house, we can taint it however we want to.” It doesn’t take much for you to agree — and you do so in the midst of laughter. You shamelessly stare at Taehyung’s profile, the strands of his blonde hair that desperately needs a trim, his long lashes that you’ve always been envious of, the slope of his nose and his thin lips that always knows how to kiss you right. Taehyung’s thick brow cocks when he notices your blatant staring, but you don’t care. You’re just filled with joy and at a loss for words at how he’s with you. He’s yours. The two of you are too wrapped up in one another to pay mind to the car behind you. To the piercing beam lights. The wheels that screech against the asphalt. The sheer speed of the vehicle and recklessness of the intoxicated driver. So when the rear of the car is slammed into and you both lurch forward into the intersection of the road, it’s a shock. // The white fluorescent burns your eyes. It’s hard to see and you can’t feel your body. Not even your fingers that begin to twitch. You’re disoriented and delirious, not sure what day it is, how long you’ve been out, where exactly you are. It’s all muddled in your mind. All you can discern is a constant rhythm of beeping beside you and the odour of disinfect filling your senses. You’re scared — but you’re overwhelmed with the thought of Taehyung. Taehyung. You jolt in your spot and the rhythm of the machine quickens until it’s like an alarm, sounding aloud and making you panic even more. But then there’s a rush of people entering the room, white coats and scrubs checking the machines and lines hooked up from you. “Ms. Y/N, I am doctor Jeon.” There’s a man looking down at you and you blink blearily at him. “You’ve been in a coma for three days now. Is there anyone we can call for you?” “M-My husband,” you cry out with a parched throat. The doctor looks to the nurse but she frowns and shakes her head. “The patient doesn’t have a husband.” You don’t have a husband? At once, sobs wrack through your entire body and you thrash despite the aches in your bones and your ankle wrapped in bandages. The doctor and nurse are alarmed and you choke out the words— “I-Is he okay? Is he dead?” “Ma’am,” the doctor calmly says, “you were the only one injured on the scene.” Before you can utter a word, a man comes from the doorway. His hair is dark, matching the hue lined underneath his exhausted eyes. His features are soft and evidently tired like he hasn’t slept in the past few days. You don’t know who he is but he stares right at you — and then a relieved smile draws upon his features, one that is too comfortable and familiar. “Y/N?” His voice is deeper than expected and he closes the distance. The nurse is visibly confused, but he quickly introduces, “I’m her partner, Min Yoongi.” You recoil back before he can touch you, even when the hurt comes across his expression. “I-I’m sorry.” You don’t know who he is. “I think you have the wrong person.”

It’s hard to cope — your entire universe has been flipped upside down and you don’t know what to think. Suddenly by opening your eyes, your entire life has been swept from underneath your feet. Everything that you loved and cared about is gone. And you’re left alone to deal with it. “I-I remember being with my husband. We were driving back from dinner and planning to take a detour to the new house, but then a car rear-ended us and we were brought out into the intersection,” you recall. But the doctor’s brows furrow. “I see. Well, I can tell you that you weren’t in a car accident, Ms. Y/N. You were injured after falling down the flight of stairs at the subway station. You’ve been in a coma for three days.” It doesn’t make any sense and you squeeze your temples. But it hurts. Everything feels like a dream, like you’re floating and not truly grounded in reality. Your surroundings are hazy and you wonder if this is just a hallucination — a very frightening one, a world where Taehyung doesn’t exist. “What year was the car accident?” the doctor asks suddenly and you exhale, trying to remember the date. “It was late January of 2016.” “Ms. Y/N, it’s 2020 right now.” It’s a shock through your system. At first, you sputter, choking on your own spit. The doctor is kind enough to give you a moment but when you press your hand to your chest, you wince at the bruises around your wrist. Then you open your mouth and close it, finding yourself rendered absolutely speechless. Your brain is melting into itself and you have an urge to get up and scream. “What?” “It looks like you have a four year memory gap,” Doctor Jeon says as if he’s prescribing you with cold medication and if you weren’t bedridden, you might just throttle him to the floor. “It’s okay, these things happen with your sort of injury. It should be fine and only temporary. You can get your memory jogging again after looking at mementos, pictures, or talking to the right people.” “Anyways, we’ll keep you here for a few more days just to monitor that head injury, but it looks like your ankle is healing nicely. There’s no cause for concern, really.” The doctor ends up leaving and you repress the urge to cry again. You don’t know where Taehyung is and you miss him. // Your so-called partner appears days later to help with your hospital discharge and pack up your belongings. You learn his name is Min Yoongi and that he’s two years older than you are. He works as a car mechanic in a shop and you’ve apparently been with him for a whole year. Yet, you can’t help but stay guarded, watching him from the corner with your arms crossed while you try to decipher his impassive expression. The man is quiet, but not in an angry or frightening way. He never asks you questions, makes demands out of you or once appears exasperated with your distant behaviour. He seems gentle somehow. You wonder what your relationship with him was like. “T-Thank you,” you murmur as he packs the slippers he had brought for you into the duffle bag. Min Yoongi turns his head and the corner of his mouth pulls into an oddly warm smile. His voice is husky when he says, “You don’t need to thank me. I’m just happy to see you walking around again.” You’re taken aback. You aren’t used to receiving this kind of love and affection from someone other than Taehyung and from a stranger no less. It makes you unsettled. Conflicted. The car ride is smooth. Yoongi helps you into your seat and buckles you in without making you speak much of a word. You’re not sure where you’re going, but you spend your time looking out at the window and taking in what you’ve missed for four years, or rather what your mind no longer recalls. Luckily, it seems like the world hasn’t changed too much. The streets are familiar, lined with lamp posts and bike racks. There are different billboards and some buildings you don’t recognize, but it looks like many things have stayed the same. The street names, avenues and boulevards, the people jogging and walking their dogs — it hasn’t changed. “Hey, Tae—” Except for the person driving beside you. You turn your head and blood drained from your face, realizing that it’s not your husband you’re sitting beside. “N-Never mind.” There’s a moment of quiet. Then Yoongi’s lips part. “It’s okay.” He glances at you and your eyes meet. “It’s okay,” he repeats with a small smile that makes you even more burdened. The apartment is modest yet cozy. A living room with cushions out of place and souvenirs on the shelves next to the television. The kitchen is to the left, cups in the sink and refrigerator haphazardly filled with take out boxes. It’s lived in, full of memories that you don’t have. But above all, you notice there’s only one bedroom and there are male belongings assorted with yours. Shaving cream. Gel. Cologne. “You live here?” you ask Yoongi, coming to the living room where he was giving you a chance to look around for yourself, perhaps hoping that you would remember something. “We live together,” he corrects with a tiny smile. “But it’s okay. I’m planning on staying at a friend’s place, so you don’t have to worry about me being here if that makes you uncomfortable.” “You…” Your mouth opens before closing, startled at how considerate he is. “You don’t have to. I mean, this place is yours too. It seems unfair if I kick you out. You should...stay.” Yoongi smiles and you shy away from his attention. “I...might not be comfortable sharing a bed with you though…” “Okay.” He nods. “I can take the couch.” That night, you lay awake in the foreign bed, unable to sleep and staring at the ceiling. It feels like you’ve been asleep for four years anyways, although it’s technically only been three days. Your brain is swimming in confusion. You’re not sure what to think. One moment you were with Taehyung and the next, you don’t have him beside you anymore and you’re with someone else. Taehyung…. You reach over to the nightstand and switch on the lamp. A dim yellow light softly fills the room and you begin to truly investigate your surroundings. On a pinboard near the door are pictures of you and Yoongi, selfies taken where you’re both smiling with one another, one of you at a carnival and another at an aquarium. The vanity drawer holds jewelry that you don’t recognize, perhaps ones that Yoongi had bought for you. Your phone contains grocery lists and miscellaneous notes that make no sense. There’s nothing on your social media, no connection, nothing once you search his name up. All you discover is work-related things in your calendar, more pictures of you and Yoongi and affectionate texts between the two of you. There’s no trace of Taehyung whatsoever. But when you dig into the closet and find a box at the top shelf hidden away, your answer is found. It’s inside a box of paperwork — school awards, certificates of achievements, evidence of your first paycheck, your birth certificate, social security papers, and divorce papers. You and Taehyung got divorced in April 2018. Two years and eight months after getting married. And it’s been a year and ten months since. The paper crumples underneath your hands and you gather your knees together on the floor as quiet sobs break through you once again. You don’t know what happened. Where it all went wrong. // When morning comes, you hope the swelling and redness of your eyes from crying so much isn’t noticeable. If it is, Yoongi doesn’t say anything and only regards you with a gentle smile. “I was going to stay home today, but I thought it might be overwhelming for you,” he says before you can protest otherwise, “so I’ll be at work. Take it easy, okay? You can call me anytime you want for anything. My number is in your phone.” You nod. “Thank you, Yoongi.” His smile is sweet. “I already told you, it’s not a problem.” But half an hour after Yoongi leaves, you prepare for your own departure. Hobbling with your weight on one foot and off the one with your injured ankle, you grab a coat and the car keys laying on the counter. It takes a moment to figure out which one is your vehicle in the lot but you find it after pressing the panic button. It looks brand new — apparently recently repaired and the reason why you had to take the subway and how you got your head injury in the first place. It might be wrong to leave without giving a warning to Yoongi, especially when he’s so worried about you, but you can’t stay idle at the apartment. You can’t sit still. You need answers. You drive to the house — turning down the familiar streets and roads before coming into the neighbourhood that feels like you had been in just a week ago when it’s probably been years. But you don’t recognize it anymore. It's more developed than you last remembered. What once were empty lots have other homes built. All the sidewalks are paved, there’s an elementary school down the avenue, a new playground that shines, neighbours that have moved in. What hasn’t changed is the house itself. There’s still the white picket fence that surrounds the seashell white home, a shade you had personally picked yourself when building it. The roof is a dark brown and the front door cherry wood. The glass windows are large with baby blue curtains and you wonder if there’s still the swing in the backyard…. You get out of the car, feeling your emotions swell up to your throat and your eyes becoming watery as you gave upon the house. This was the place you had built with Taehyung. The place you both had planned to live in for years. The place you wanted to raise your kids, grow old and retire in. It was perfect. The combination of your dreams. Where did it all go wrong? You close the distance, limping up the path to the door and knocking on it. After a moment, you ring the doorbell properly. But even then, there are no answers and you notice that the Kim nameplate under the mailbox is gone. Of course. It’s been over four years after all. You cross the street back to your car again, but not before catching sight of a woman bringing groceries up her driveway and towards her own house. “Um, excuse me.” She turns at your voice, brows lifted. “Do you happen to know who lives there?” You point to what was once your home. But unfortunately, she shakes her head. “Sorry, I don’t. I know that house has been sold a few times and the owners have recently changed again.” “Oh. Thank you.” It’s hard to leave the house behind you, but you keep your foot on the gas pedal and drive, never glancing out the rear-view mirror in fear of bursting into tears again. You still have more questions than answers, so your next destination becomes downtown where Taehyung’s engineering firm is. The two of you had met in school, back when you were awkward and chasing after your ambitions of being a chemical engineer like your aunt while for him, he wanted to take his childhood lego dreams to the max and become a civil engineer. Your neck hurts to look at the top of the skyscraper, the many windows reflecting the bright sunlight into your eyes and blinding your vision. If there was any place where you could find Taehyung, it would be here. It’s his dream job. What he had wanted for so long and legitimately cried when he found out he got a position at. You remember that day, how proud you felt of him for achieving such a goal. But when you approach the receptionist at the lobby’s desk, her response only fires the confusion further. “Sorry. We don’t have a Kim Taehyung working here. Are you sure you’re not mistaken?” You miss him. And you wonder at what point, he wasn’t a part of your life anymore. // In an attempt to find Taehyung, you contact your friends and work your way down your list of contacts on your phone. They’re happy to hear from you, some even knowing about your accident and asking if you’re alright. But when you ask about Taehyung, they tell you that they haven’t spoken to him since the divorce. That they’ve lost contact. That the months leading up to it, the two of you were distant from them and they’re unsure of the reasons for what had happened. It was frankly unexpected. “You always told me it wasn’t any of my business, dear,” your mother says over the phone. “You actually got quite upset when I asked, so after a while I didn’t anymore. Do you want to talk to your dad? He’s watching the news right now.” “No.” You press your temples, holding in your sigh. “It’s fine.” Frustration overwhelms you. No matter where you turn, you can’t seem to get the reasons for yourself. You can’t find him. “Is the take out okay?” At once, you’re snapped out of your thoughts and you lift your head to meet kind, cat-like eyes staring at you. “It’s good,” you try to smile and nod. He seems to sense how disconnected you are. “I’ll learn how to cook. I know you like carbonara, so maybe I can find a recipe this weekend and try to make it, so we don’t have to eat out all the time.” You stare at the man across from you. How tired he seems, his dark hair shagging in front of his forehead, his downcast head facing his food as his fork scrapes against the bottom container, never quite taking a full bite. Yet whenever your eyes meet, his plump lips always tugs into a small smile and his eyes crinkle. “I’m sorry.” Yoongi’s brows lift at the sudden apology. “What for?” “For not remembering you.” Even if Min Yoongi is a stranger, you can feel how intimate the pair of you used to be by the photographs you’ve seen, by the way he still regards you. You feel guilty for not being able to return his affections. “It’s fine. It’ll come back with time, right? Don’t stress out about it too much. It won’t do you any good.” “Yoongi.” You have his attention by the way you say his name like he hasn’t heard it uttered from your lips in quite a while. “I went searching for my...ex-husband today.” It’s foreign to call Taehyung that. It’s unsettling and makes you uncomfortable. But your eyes never divert from Yoongi’s. “I need answers.” “I know,” he murmurs in a low voice, still playing with his food. As intimidating as he might appear on the surface, you’re quickly learning how considerate and soft-spoken he really is. “And I want you too. I don’t want you to have any regrets. I want you to know you’ve made the right choice by being with me.” Your heart squeezes at his thoughtful nature and you sigh lightly before stuffing your mouth with some of the noodles, trying to alleviate the tension. “You’re a good man, Yoongi.” He chuckles, gummy smile emerging for the first time that you can recall. “Maybe that’s why you chose me in the first place.” // The avenue is nostalgic, a street that you and Taehyung spent many dates at with its cheap street food and cute stores. And when you were both working, it was the halfway point between your workplaces and where you’d meet to have lunch on those special occasions. A few things have altered from when you remembered them, the stationery shop closed and that ice-cream parlor changed into a pancake café instead. But for the most part, it remains the same. You aren’t sure what you’re doing here. Of all your ways and methods in searching for Taehyung, even you know that it’s unlikely you’ll find him on a Tuesday morning at such an obscure location. But it’s where you’re drawn too, where your body told you to go and your mind followed. Otherwise, you’re not sure what to do anymore or how you should contact him. You wonder if it’s too drastic to drive hours away to visit his mom on the off chance that she’s still living in the same place after four years. If she moved, the journey would be for nothing. But even then, if you somehow found him and reached out, would he even be willing to talk to you? A sigh escapes your parted lips. You tilt your head up to the sky, wondering where on earth he is. And in your reverie, you fail to notice the strapping brunette humming to the music he’s listening to. Not until your shoulder collides with his as he’s walking the opposite way. But instead of an apology spilling from your mouth, you’re interrupted by a call of your name— “Y/N?” It's shock that has taken hold of his expression. His hand rips out his earphones and the loud music becomes silenced from his world. With the way he looks at you, it would be like he’s seen a ghost. A stranger from his past. In your mind, it’s only been a week since you’ve seen him. And you’ve been missing him so much. On sheer instinct, you wrap your hand around his wrist, afraid to let go. “Taehyung.” // It’s awkward, the stiff air almost suffocating your lungs. You’re sure that the first date wasn’t even as bad as this. But you don’t mind whatsoever, even if he’s shifting uncomfortably at the intent way you stare and how it makes him break out into a sweat. Even if Taehyung hates you now, as long as you can see him like this, it’s enough to bear. Taehyung clears his throat, diverting his vision elsewhere. “So….you look like you’ve been well.” “Not really,” you murmur. Taehyung is still a man of intense habit. His drink order hasn’t changed, a cappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings. At the same exact coffee shop since you were dating. And he’s taken the same table in the corner of the shop too, the spot of your many study dates. It’s these habits that have led you back to him. “I heard you weren’t working at the engineering firm anymore,” you say after another tense pause. Taehyung’s brows curiously raise. “I haven’t been working there in years. You knew about it.” “Did I?” He’s wary that you can’t recall. “Yeah….” “What are you doing now?” “I’m in animation.” Your eyes widen, surprised. “I never knew you could animate— well, I knew you could draw, but you never even watched much animation.” Taehyung shrugs. “It’s a good fit. I didn’t know I’d like it either until I tried.” Your expression softens, a tender smile pulling into your cheeks. Taehyung’s gotten older but in a refined way. His hair is back to its natural colour, a few wrinkles set into his skin but his features are sharper and less rounded and boyish. He seems less mischievous and irresponsible too, a little more mature and quiet. Or maybe he’s reserved because you’re his ex-wife. The thought makes you nauseous. He sips his drink. “So...what have you been doing?” “Not great. I recently got into an accident, Taehyung.” That seems to grab his attention and his eyes become rounded while you brace yourself. “Apparently I fell down a flight of stairs at the subway station and I was in a coma for three days.” “Oh shit. That...must’ve sucked. I...I’m sorry to hear that.” “I’m fine now.” You pause, clear your throat. “But the last thing I remember is us, Taehyung. We were planning to spend the night at the new house and we got hit by that car…” “I remember.” He nods slowly and murmurs, “But the accident wasn’t that bad, Y/N. We were only bumped.” “I don’t remember that,” you tell, earnest eyes connected with his that makes him believe you. Even after all this time apart, Taehyung can still tell when you’re lying and telling the truth. Your voice raises in pitch, in frustration and exasperation. “And...and I’m trying to understand how this happened. I’m trying to understand how we…..how we ended up divorced.” Taehyung’s brows furrow and he fiddles with the paper cup. “What’s there to tell? We fell out of love.” “That doesn’t make any sense!” Your shrill voice garners the attention of other patrons, but you don’t pay mind to them. “We got married and were planning to have kids and we just built a house in a new neighbourhood—” “We lost that house.” Taehyung doesn’t look at you. His downcast head allows his eyes to stay on the floor. He looks small — shoulders slugging and frame slumped. “I lost my job and then we lost the house. It went downhill from there and one day, you couldn’t do it anymore and packed your bags. You were the one who divorced me, Y/N.” You’re stunned, unable to get a single word out at the revelation he’s given you. An answer to your questions that you had never expected. That you didn’t want to hear. Taehyung’s eyes are saddened and he never once meets your gaze. “You’ll remember sooner or later. I’m sorry this happened to you, Y/N. I really am. But it was still nice to see you.” He gets up before you can protest, leaving as fast as he came into your life again. // Yoongi arrives home visibly tired, his hair in a disarray and his navy workwear stained with oil and grease. Still, he greets you with a warm, sleepy smile that you still aren’t used to. “I saw my ex today,” you tell him during dinner, breaking the silence by deciding to be open and honest. It at least alleviates some of the guilt weighing on your chest. “I found him coincidentally.” Yoongi’s eyes flicker up, peeking at you. “How did it go?” “It didn’t help. I’m still confused.” You can’t understand why you would ever leave him, even if you lost the house and he lost his job. It didn’t make any sense. “Do you know anything about the divorce, Yoongi? Did I….ever tell you anything?” “You told me that he was pathetic,” he informs but without any malice like he’s simply stating facts. “He was unemployed for two years and didn’t get off his ass to find a job. Hey, your words, not mine.” The corner of your mouth curls even when you’re still stupefied. “Are you alright, Y/N?” An exhale leaves your lips. “I’m not sure.” That night, you find another box in the closet while alone in the bedroom. There are pictures of you and Taehyung from when you were younger and just friends, small mementos like movie tickets and keychains won at arcades while you were dating, and photographs of the wedding day, the two of you with enormous smiles and swollen cheeks. But they’re buried underneath your belongings with Yoongi. // His expression is one of repulsion, like he bit into a lemon or something bitter. But you don’t pay any attention to it. “What are you doing here?” Taehyung is incredulous to see you in the morning, standing in the same café as if you own the place. “I’ve been waiting since eight,” you complain and he repeats his question with increasing skepticism. You suppose it’s not everyday your ex-wife is waiting to run into you, so you don’t blame him for his apprehension. “I’m trying to understand how the two of us got divorced. I know this is probably really weird since for you, I’ve shown out of nowhere after two years.” “You think?” You ignore his playful quip. “But for me, my last memory is still going on that date night and getting into that car accident.” Before Taehyung can utter a word, the barista is calling him as the next person in line. “Can I get—” A cappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings. “A cappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings,” he says without missing a beat and your mouth tugs into a smile. Lots of things may have changed in the time that you no longer remember, but the fact of how constant he is comforts you greatly. You wait with Taehyung at the counter, feeling his eyes glancing at you every so often. When your eyes meet, he realizes he’s been caught staring. “Once I remember again and make sense of the situation, I’ll leave you alone,” you say even if it hurts, but the last thing you want is to be burdensome to Taehyung. “I just want to understand and get over it and move on like you have.” Taehyung sighs, never saying a word. He picks up his drink and you follow along with him, quietly as to not disrupt the comfortable silence between the both of you. He walks down the street and enters the modest grocery store, beelining to the deli to pick up a ham sub. But he notices your quirked brow. “What?” “No.” You shake your head. “Just reminds me of uni. You used to eat those too. Same brand and everything.” The man scoffs lightly, but he knows. You’ve pointed it out to him many times in the past that he has a tendency to stick to specific habits — the odd quirks that you once said you loved about him. “Like what?” he had once asked when you mentioned it. “Like you always put your beverages on your left side and you chug half a glass of water before going to bed and you always close the entire toilet when you’re done going to the bathroom and you have the same brand of cereal every morning and after you sneeze, you always scratch your nose every time,” you had said in the midst of giggles and then lifted yourself up to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry. They’re cute and it’s part of why I love you.” The two of you walk together down the street. The early morning air is crisp and chilly, slightly nipping at his nose. He grips his drink still steaming to warm his hand and Taehyung can’t help stealing a glance at you, wondering if you’re cold too. “How’d you get started into animation?” “Huh? Oh. Well, if you really want to know then after you packed your bags and dumped me, it was a pretty good wake up call.” Taehyung laughs as if he’s recalling a funny memory, but then his expression softens, touched with sorrow. “I decided to get myself picked back up and get a job. They liked my personality enough at the interview to give me a chance. At first I didn’t know what I was doing, but I learned and I like it a lot.” He turns his head when your silence is prolonged. But his eyes widen when he finds your tender smile. “I’m happy for you, Taehyung.” And you really are — even in spite of him not technically being a part of your life anymore. // The next day, Taehyung is not any more impressed to see you there at the café. You enthusiastically smile and wave at him. And when the barista calls the two of you in the line, you have no hesitation. “Can I get a cappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings? And just an iced americano for me.” Taehyung eyes you when you pay and stroll to the other counter to wait. “Don’t you have a job to go to?” “I’m still technically in recovery and it’s not like I can work if my head’s a mess.” Taehyung scoffs lightly. “What do you want to know this time?” He can tell by the look in your eye that there are questions on the tip of your tongue. And when you take out a whole laundry list like it’s things you need to buy at a grocery store, a rectangular grin plasters on his face. Taehyung wouldn’t expect any less of you. “Hey, I was thinking about it all night, alright? I was afraid I was going to forget so I wrote it down.” He leans over to look at the list but you move away. “Don’t peek.” “Okay, okay.” He laughs and gestures for you to start. “First question. What did I say before I left?” You look at him, eyes meeting his. “What were my exact reasons for the divorce?” He hums a low note, staring off into the distance. “I don’t remember well. You called me a motherfucker though,” Taehyung chuckles and becomes solemn. “Probably something along the lines that I’ve stopped trying and that you were leaving. There was a lot of crying and screaming. I…..don’t really like to think about it.” There’s a pause and you clear your throat, paper in your hand crinkling and forgotten. “Why didn’t you ever do anything to stop it?” A sigh leaves his lips and he runs his hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Maybe because I’m an idiot. But it’s not like I could’ve forced you to stay with me.” “I’m sure if you had said something, I would’ve stayed.” Taehyung’s smile is meek and sad, not at all like how it usually is. You wonder just how much you hurt him, how much you hurt each other. “A lot can happen in two years, Y/N.” A lot can happen in the two years they were apart too. “Have you been seeing anyone?” “No. I haven’t,” he says. It’s a question that tumbled out of you, one not on the list. // The evening comes and you hear the front door open and shut. Immediately, you call out from the kitchen, “Hey!” Yoongi emerges from the hall with another tired smile. “Hey.” “I got takeout for us,” you say while heating said food up. “How was work? Busy again?” “A little.” The man comes closer to see what you’ve bought but before he’s able to assess, he mindlessly leans in and plants a soft kiss against your cheek. You instantaneously freeze, the muscles in your body becoming rigid and tense, and Yoongi realizes. “I’m sorry. It’s a bad habit.” He pulls away, disheartened and guilt wells up in your throat. “It’s okay.” Yoongi nods and he shrugs off his coat, walking back towards the hall to hang it up, but you stop him before your conscience can berate you, before you hurt him further— “I saw him again. This morning.” He halts. He stands still as you watch his backside. The both of you know who you’re referring to. “How was it?” Yoongi inquires hesitantly as if he’s not sure if he even should. “It was good,” you murmur. “I got a few more answers.” His head turns, the black strands of his hair sweeping against his forehead. Yoongi’s gentle eyes are glossed over, his tone low and husky as he quietly asks, “Can’t you get answers without seeing him?” “I…..I’m sorry, Yoongi.” You divert your vision, but from the corner, you can see the way his mouth curls gingerly. “It’s okay.” But you know that it isn’t. It’s unfair to him to wait for your memories to return, for you to continuously see someone of your past as he waits for you to come to love him as you once did. The man retreats into the darkness and you feel guilt overwhelm you. // When Taehyung wakes up, does his daily routine and heads to the café, he opens the door and expects to see you. Standing there, waiting for him as if you were the owner or a barista working full time. “Are you sure you’re not healthy enough to go back to work?” He grins, brows lifted and almost impressed at how adamant you are. “No.” You loll your head to the side. “I’m still feeling tired.” Taehyung scoffs lightly, noting that you always show up earlier than he does. “Tired, huh?” “You must be tired too. Your shirt is inside out.” “What?” His line of sight follows to where you’re pointing and Taehyung looks down to see that his shirt is indeed inside out. He groans in embarrassment as you laugh. “Did you not notice?” He doesn’t answer, grabbing his drink from the counter once the barista calls his name and he books it out of the shop. But not without you following behind him and still giggling. “Are you sulking?” You quickly catch up to him and quirk your head almost to his shoulder. “I’m just teasing, Tae. It’s not that noticeable.” “You noticed it.” “Well I’ve always noticed everything about you.” He clicks his tongue in feigned annoyance and stops, making you halt on your heels. “Don’t flirt with me, woman. Didn’t you say you were seeing someone?” You scoff, continuing to walk and this time, he’s the one who follows after you. “Who says I’m flirting with you? I think you’re terribly mistaken and quite frankly, full of yourself.” Taehyung grins. “It’s not my fault I was born this handsome and have so many people regularly flirting with me.” “Uh-huh. You’re beginning to sound like Seokjin.” “He’s not half as handsome as I am.” You burst out laughing, knowing that your old friend would probably throw a fit if Taehyung openly fought him for the position of most handsome in your group of friends. “I beg to differ.” “Then why didn’t you marry him back then?” “Should’ve,” you sing-song much to Taehyung’s chagrin. The pair of you stop in front of his building, the destination of every morning journey. You know this is where you’ll have to leave him off and see him again tomorrow, wait for just these ten minutes of conversations and banter. But unusually, Taehyung doesn’t bid you farewell right away. He doesn’t run away with his tail in between his legs, shooting you a playful glare over his shoulder. Instead, he stops with you and smiles. Taehyung lingers on the sidewalk with you. “Y/N…” He gazes at you. Your eyes connect with his warm irises and something lodges in your throat, an emotion that only seems to come with him. “Hmm?” There’s held silence— “There’s a bug in your hair.” “What?!” His palm slaps your forehead before you can flail, not enough for it to hurt, but enough that you’re stunned. You lift your hand to rub the spot and at the same time, a rectangular grin spreads into his face. Taehyung laughs childishly. “Kidding.” “Are you five years old?!” you shout but it only eggs him on more. “Sorry, sorry.” He bats your hand away and his fingers come to rub the spot for you instead. “I’m pretty sure it was your face cream and not a bug.” The proximity is closed. You can feel his breath against your face, count his thick lashes, draw constellations through the tiny freckles around his nose. You swallow hard, feeling the heat rise into your cheeks and Taehyung catches it. For a moment, his eyes linger against your lips and yours follows down to the dip of his cupid’s bow to the corner of his mouth. There’s a thick tension between the two of you, a kind of intimacy not found between a pair of old friends on a normal morning. It’s a kind of longing that you recognize in Taehyung’s gaze as it’s similar to your own… You lean in to close the distance completely. But then Taehyung abruptly pulls away. His vision is diverted to the ground. All traces of mischief are gone. His mouth has fallen into a straight line, brows knitted together as if he’s in physical pain. “What are we doing, Y/N?” He doesn’t wait for a response. Taehyung turns and walks away while the knots in your chest constrict you. But you run after him. You take three strides before he can vanish from your life — like what you found when you woke up in that hospital bed. The thought of that returning is terrifying. “Taehyung!” “No!” He turns around to face you, shutting you down before the way you call his name can affect him. You’re taken aback by the hurt etched on his expression. “It took me two years to get over you and even now I’m still not over you,” he declares angrily and your eyes widen. “And then you come out of nowhere to make a mess out of my head, playing these games.” Your brows furrow, upset at his accusations and you shout back at him, “What games?!” “I know that the moment you remember again, the moment you get over your stupid fucking amnesia, you’re going to dump me!” Taehyung swallows hard. “You’re going to make me go through all of that again. It’s downright cruel, you dense woman!” “Don’t call me dense!” Without conscious decision, tears begin to shed down your face and you shake your head. “You know that that isn’t my intention.” “I know.” Taehyung sighs. “But it’s going to happen anyway.” The pair of you look at one another and then the doors to the building open. A tall man with dimples comes out and is absolutely bewildered at the ruckus. He’s seemingly familiar with Taehyung, perhaps a colleague of his. “Is something wrong, dude?” “It’s fine.” “Who’s this?” the stranger asks curiously, smiling at you. “She’s my ex-wife.” The man is caught off guard, eyes becoming rounded. “I didn’t know you were married.” “Yeah, well, I used to be.” Taehyung peeks at you in a silent farewell and you watch his backside leave.

When Taehyung wakes up, does his daily routine and heads to the café, he opens the door and then his breath catches in his throat. He doesn’t know why disappointment seems to overwhelm him when you’re not there and he wonders since when he expected you to be in the first place — standing there, waiting for him. He stands in line by himself. Makes his order by himself. Picks up his lunch by himself. Taehyung walks to work alone. And every so often, he unconsciously glances to his side and then sighs when he catches himself. He’s not sure why he keeps anticipating you to be with him. Why he allows himself to feel frustrated when he remembers you’re not here. You’ve become Taehyung’s habit. And now you’re gone.

There’s a timid knock at the door. A moment later, it cracks open. “Hey, dinner is ready….” Yoongi’s puzzled to find you standing on a stool, reaching to the top of your closet but he smiles, glad to see you lively again. “What are you doing? Do you need help?” “It’s okay.” You grab the album you were reaching for and wipe off the layer of dust that covers it. “I just remembered I kept old albums up here. Jeez, it’s so dusty.” Yoongi’s brow lifts. “You remember?” You nod, smiling at him. “I do.” The album is flipped open and you step off the stool to sit on the edge of your bed. Yoongi watches you for a moment and exhales softly. “Well, I’ll leave your food on the table.” You thank him and he takes his leave, shutting the door. You guess no matter how bad your relationship with Taehyung got, you never had the heart to throw away or burn the photographs. And you’re glad. The photographs of your wedding day are still in tip-top shape, images showing the pair of you glowing in the sunset with his arms wrapped around you. You remember that wedding dress and that suit of his that had to be tailored twice. You remember being late to the ceremony and having to run with Taehyung who snuck out to see you beforehand even though he wasn’t supposed to...… There are also photographs of your honeymoon, a vacation to the Caribbean, and another trip of Europe that you went on during your university days. But above all, there are photos of the pair of you in front of the newly built house. Proud and ecstatic. The seashell white home with the dark brown roof and large windows and skylights standing tall behind you two. Ready to house your future. Some things change but these memories won’t. // The sprinklers spritzes across the freshly mowed lawn, a sputtering hiss that leaves a mist in the air. You step up the stone path to the cherry wood door, noticing the golden nameplate under the mailbox, but you don’t dwell. In your haze, your closed fist comes to steadily knock at the door. It swings open. Inside, you find someone with warm eyes, brunette hair and a boxy smile. He encapsulates the sunlight itself, so bright that it’s hard to discern who exactly it is. But you feel like you know. Like you had known before you even knocked and the door opened. The man calls your name. And you’re shaken awake from the beautiful dream. And you wake to an empty bedside, tears welling up in your eyes. It’s the middle of the night, darkness surrounding you and weighing heavily against your body. But you fight against it and rip the covers off of your body, grabbing a cardigan off your chair and rushing down the hall. Yoongi is stirred from the noise and gets up from the couch. “Where are you going?” he asks in a husky voice, running a hand through his hair that’s sticking in all directions. But the sleepiness leaves the man as he watches you shake your head, struggling to put on your shoes with tears in your eyes. “I-I need to go, Yoongi.” But for the first time, he reaches out. Yoongi’s hand clasps around your wrist to stop you, having an inkling that you might never return. “I won’t let you.” His foot is finally placed down, but the decision has long been made. “I’m sorry, Yoongi.” “Don’t say that,” he desperately pleads. “But I am. It’s unfair to you. That I’ve treated you this badly while all you’ve ever been is patient and considerate and understanding. But I don’t want you to wait for me anymore.” “You’re not going back to your asshole of an ex-husband. He was horrible to you.” “Yoongi, what do you expect me to do?” It’s a genuine question that you ask. You’re at a loss and the words choke out of you, but you had these feelings the moment you had awoken in that hospital bed. “I love him.” The pause draws on and you lower your gaze. “It’s not fair for you to wait for me to love you instead. I’m in love with Taehyung.” Yet in spite of your words, Yoongi still pulls you into him. He wraps his arms around you and squeezes you tight as if you might vanish between his fingertips. You come to realize that you never gave Yoongi a chance to express his love to you — you never kissed him or held him despite how long he waited. You feel him tremble against you. The man who you had woken to presses his face to your shoulder, his quiet tears staining your thin clothing. You return his hug, arms lifted around his torso and grasping him close. You remember who he is. You know well. He’s Min Yoongi, the man who you loved. After a moment, he releases you. “Go.” You nod. “I’ll always be thankful to you, Yoongi. More than you’ll realize.” // The car door slams shut. You cross the street, approaching the house that still stands tall on the quiet suburban street illuminated by lamp posts. You’re not sure what you’re doing here at this time of night and you know you’ll just be disheartened when you see another family inside, living in the space that was meant for you and Taehyung. But you needed to see it. It’s your home. What you made with Taehyung. Physical proof of your planned devotion to one another. The house is dark and you assume that the people inside are long asleep. So you take a moment to gaze at it, heart aching inside your chest, and after ten minutes, you turn to walk away and leave your home behind. But then a car drives down the road. It’s a modest vehicle and as you wait for it to pass to cross the street, it instead pulls into the driveway of the house. The headlights turn off. The engine dies. The car door opens. And you freeze, watching the person emerge. “Taehyung?!” The strapping brunette man is unmistakable. He’s dressed in his work clothes, casual sweater and black trousers, his leather crossbody bag slung across his torso. He looks tired from what you can see with the glow of the many street lights, his hair messy and eyes weary. But he still has the energy to be shocked at your sudden presence. Shocked as if he’s been caught in the act. “What are you doing here?” You speak on an exhale. “Y-You bought the house back again?” He bought it after the two of you lost it. Even when there’s no reason to. Not unless it still holds sentimental value. Not unless the memories held in there were ones he still cherishes. Not unless he still loves you. Taehyung murmurs your name, “Y/N…” You run to him, closing the distance, throwing your arms around his neck. And you kiss the silly man breathlessly, pressing your mouth against his and swallowing the groan that leaves his lungs. His arms wrap around your back, holding you close and quickly reciprocating. His head tilts and his tongue slips into your mouth, drawing noises out of you like when you were young and still exploring one another. But it’s a kiss of sadness and longing — yet still sweet even after so much time has passed. After a handful of seconds, Taehyung pulls away. “W-What are we doing?” He shakes his head, letting go of you. But you grab hold of his hand. “I still love you, Taehyung. I love you.” His earnest eyes search yours. “How….how do I know you won’t just remember why you wanted to leave me. How do I know it won’t happen all over again? We’re still the same people, Y/N. It didn’t work once.” “I don’t care,” you spit at him desperately. “To me, it feels like it was until yesterday that we were still married and in love. And right now, right now I still love you, Taehyung. I miss you. I don’t care what happened, that you lost your job, lost the house and started to feel bad about yourself and gave up on us.” Taehyung’s eyes are rounded and his lips part. “You….remember?” You nod. “I have gradually for a while now.” Bits and pieces had fallen together the longer you spent with him, the more you looked at pictures and mementos, and searched your memories. They were loose puzzle pieces, moments of time, until you fit them together to create a whole picture. To finally understand why things happened the way they did. And you can finally recall the downward spiral of Taehyung all those years ago. How he abruptly got laid off, losing his dream job that he had worked so hard to obtain, how the two of you lost the house when your sole income was no longer enough and how depressed he became about losing that home. How he sat at his desk for two years in the dark, playing games and wasting time, giving up on searching for a job and refusing to get himself help in his poor mental state. You remember how he ignored you until you felt like his mother and couldn’t take it anymore. How he pushed your sanity enough that you had to walk away before you were damaged. But in spite of all that has happened… “I still love you.” He’s an absolute shit, but you love him. Without being able to blink, Taehyung tugs you in by your waist and he presses his lips against yours, holding you close to him. You smile against his mouth before your hands lift to cup his cheeks, cradling his face as he deepens the kiss. It’s desperate, hungering to make up for lost time, fulfilling the yearning that has dwelled between the pair of you each time you spoke. Taehyung kisses you like he’s missed you more and the pair of you barely manage to break apart to stumble into the house. “I can’t believe you bought this place back.” It’s a whirlwind, nostalgia slamming into you as you step into the foyer. You’re overwhelmed with emotion, feeling a staggering urge to start crying. “Had to do a lot of negotiating, but I did it,” he murmurs proudly, happy to show you how he’s picked himself up, how he found another passion and followed the path, that he’s no longer so pathetic. “All on my own too.” “Taehyung…” He kisses you again, less gentle than before. He’s merciless, hands placed on your hips and your back arches into him until the force of his body causes the two of you to fall backwards onto the floor. Taehyung catches your head so that it never hurts and he hovers over you, leg between your knees while he peels off his coat. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, gazing into your eyes. “I never got to tell you that. I’m sorry for hurting you.” You nod, grasping at his forearms that’s next to your head and he takes the opportunity to lean down. Taehyung lay pecks against your cheek until he moves his way down to suck bruising kisses into your neck. You cry his name, writhing against him as he palms your breast and leaves his marks all over you. Taehyung eats you out on the cool tiled floors of the foyer entrance, filling the house with obscene sounds that make you embarrassed. But you can’t complain, not when you’re sobbing his name and your fingers are sinking into his hair. You end up cumming all over his swollen lips and chin, and you bat at him when he grins and says it’s delicious. Before Taehyung can completely ruin the mood, you grab him and with little warning, his cock sinks into your cunt, head poking right at the entrance of your cervix. You feel full and he begins to pound into you, satisfying that itch you’ve had for so long. Taehyung makes you look at him the entire time and as you hold him, it hits you just how much you missed him. Tears leak from your eyes and it only eggs him on to be rougher. His fingers sink into the meat of your thigh and his mouth leaves hickeys down the valley of your breasts to admire later. You cum again and then he presses his pelvis into yours and cums in you as well, painting your walls in white. Despite being sweaty and sticky, Taehyung kisses you again and the two of you hold one another. He’s sweet and affectionate until he starts to push his cum back into you with his fingers when you begin to leak. “Now you’re not even trying to hide the fact you want me to get pregnant.” The man mischievously grins. “Last I checked, it was yesterday that we wanted kids.” You burst out laughing, unable to argue with that but…. “We’re not even married anymore. What would your mom think?” “She would probably cry tears of happiness if she knew we were together again. And marriage…” He interlaces his hands with yours. “We could make it happen again. If you want.” You nod. “I do.”

It’s another chance. Another do over. You wonder if you had never lost your memories and tried to chase them down, if you would’ve ever reached out to Taehyung again and reignite the spark between the two of you. Had you not found him again, you wonder if you would’ve known that he’s picked himself again and returned to the man you fell in love with. It’s hard to say but those things are yesterday’s problems. Today, you look towards the future. “Wake up, sleepy head.” On any other day, you might kick him in the knee for waking you up on a weekend, but it’s been so long that you don’t mind whatsoever. Taehyung’s mischief is world’s better than waking up to an empty bedside or to someone you can’t genuinely love as much. “Ugh.” You open your eyes and immediately slap a palm against his mouth. “Don’t kiss me. Morning breath.” Taehyung peels your hand off, grins and smooches you anyway. You laugh and quickly reciprocate. When it’s all done and over, he snuggles into you. “You know…” You’re wrapped in each other’s arms and you slowly blink awake, glad that you’ve finally woken up with him beside you. “...those brown walls in this room are going to have to change.” Taehyung laughs. “Happily.” There’s nothing been more certain of. You want to spend tomorrow with Taehyung and the day after that and the day after that. Until eternity.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #taehyung fanfic #taehyung scenario #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #yoongi angst #yoongi fanfic #throw away your logic y'all #and indulge in some hopeless romance

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bruinhilda · 7 years

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Fanfic: The Return of the Feline Rebels

Okay, this one might need a little history for those who missed it the first time around. Last year, @castielslight posted a series of paintings of the Liberator Crew as kittens. They were adorable, and it was irresistible to a crack fic writer. For every pair of kittens that were posted, I wrote a segment of a story explaining how the heck the Liberator crew were now kittens. You can find the segments here: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 And the gallery of all the kitten pictures is here.

Why am I pointing these out now? Because instead of working on the ‘zine submission that was annoying me that day, I wrote a sequel. As it’s a sequel, it can’t go in Rebels & Fools. But I entertained the editor, and now I’m unleashing it all on you! Click the “keep reading” to see the madness. (It will go on AO3 soonish, if you prefer that venue. But it started on Tumblr, so Tumblr gets it first.)

In Tarrant's defense, he wasn't to know. Even if he had been told, he could have been forgiven for believing it to be a joke.

He was getting information from an old contact, an Amagan trader, and when a pair of troopers walked by, he picked up the little statue and pretended to be a customer. It looked like a cheap novelty, and was in fact being sold as such; just a crudely carved little cat with a crooked grin and unevenly placed jeweled eyes.

He hadn't meant to actually buy the comical little thing, but Kearn was nothing if not a professional. Tarrant was parted from his money and sent on his way before he realized he'd been made to buy it for an outrageous price.

He stared at it bemusedly, grinning at himself for being that gullible. He supposed it would be good for a quick laugh.

“There you are. Any luck?” Dayna came sauntering up, holding a box that probably contained parts for another new gun.

“I'm afraid not. Kearn didn't know anything worthwhile. I'm afraid he's been too far out of the loop since the war.”

Dayna had spotted the cat, and raised an eyebrow. “What on earth have you bought this time?”

He grinned and held it up for closer inspection. The green crystal eyes sparkled. “Just a little something to annoy Avon with. I thought I'd leave it on his station, see how he reacts.”

“You do like living dangerously,” Dayna laughed. She shifted her box and raised her bracelet. “Cally, we're ready to come up. That thing is both hideous-”

“-and ridiculous,” she finished, as they appeared in the teleport bay.

“Beg pardon?” Cally asked.

“Tarrant is thinking of taking up practical jokes,” Dayna explained, as she put her box down.

“Really? But we already have Vila,” Cally quipped. The two women grinned at each other.

“Well, perhaps he could use some competition,” Tarrant said. He held the little cat up again, and did his best impression of its crooked snarl.

Instead of laughing, Cally scrambled back, hitting the wall and almost falling out of the seat. “Get rid of it, quickly Tarrant!”

Dayna's grin turned to concern. “Cally?”

“Oh come on, it's hardly threatening,” Tarrant protested. “Or are you afraid of cats?”

“Take it back down, quickly! I'll operate the teleport, just get it off the ship before it activates!”

“Activates? Cally, it's just a little trinket.” Tarrant tapped it against the console for emphasis. “See, it's perfectly...”

“It's glowing!” Dayna yelped. She dove for the exit, Cally right behind her.

“What?” Tarrant looked down at the statue, and the world turned white. The little cat thumped to the deck, paws up.

Tarrant picked himself up as the light faded, and shook his head. That was odd, he thought. He was a bit dizzy, but otherwise seemed okay. Though his perceptions were off. The room looked a lot larger all of a sudden.

A huge, red-brown feline face suddenly loomed in front of him. Green eyes glared, and long black tufted ears flattened back. “RrrrrreeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” it shrieked.

Tarrant scrambled backwards as fast as he could, tripping all over his...tail and paws?

Oh HELL. He scrabbled around in a circle, chasing his tail in a moment of sheer disbelief. His short, curly fur bristled, and his oversized ears flipped back and forth.

Someone swatted him upside the head. He whirled and snarled. The siamese in front of him responded with a yowl that rattled the walls. Bright blue eyes glared even harder than the caracal's had. Tarrant eased back, and Dayna stalked forward after him, looking incredibly angry.

The caracal yowled at them both, cuffed the Cornish Rex, and leaped onto the console, letting loose an incredibly loud howl.

Feet thumped down the corridor. Dayna jumped and landed facing the other way. Tarrant sat upright, pricking his ears forward.

“Cally, what the hell is going on...here...” Vila nearly tripped down the stairs, staring at the three cats. His eyes locked onto the statue. “Oh no, not again!” he wailed. He lunged for the intercom. “Avon, we...!”

Another flash blinded them all, and then a large orange tomcat tumbled to the floor. Vila picked himself up, shook himself, then turned a put-upon look directly at Tarrant.

Tails lashed. “Yow!” Dayna yelled. Tarrant wasn't sure if that was for him or just to the universe in general, but he suddenly found it prudent to retreat under the console.

“Mrow yow rowl! Vila added, scratching his neck.

Cally hissed. And then she thumped to the deck and darted up the corridor towards the crew quarters.

***

Avon turned in his sleep. On the edge of his consciousness, he thought he heard someone call his name, almost waking him up. When it wasn't repeated, he drifted back to his dreams. Odd, disjointed images flashed through his mind. Cats fighting, a sense of running, being very low to the ground and afraid. Some slumbering giant looming overhead on an immense bed...

Something large and heavy hit him in the midsection. Pointed claws drove into delicate portions of his anatomy, pulling him awake instantly.

“Aaugh!”

“ReeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” The thing in his lap squealed.

It sounds like someone strangling a computer, Avon thought blearily. He forced his eyes to focus on the russet bundle. His brows went up.

“Either I am having a nightmare, or some idiot has brought another Oros statue on board.”

An image of a shining grin topped with curly hair flashed in his mind. “So it wasn't Vila this time. That's one for the records.”

“Mrew.” Cally kneaded her paws in the blankets, and into Avon again.

“Ouch. Enough. I'm getting up.” He shifted, and Cally thumped to the floor, waiting patiently while Avon hurriedly got dressed. With a sigh, he scooped the caracal up. Cally leaned into his arms and purred, which disturbed him slightly. “Where is it?”

Images flashed again. “The teleport section?” He took the increase in purring as a yes. “Then we're going to the flight deck.”

“EEEEE...”

“Stop that. I can't do anything if I'm reduced to paws and yowling.”

Cally mumbled, then snuggled deeper into his arms. Avon fought the urge to scratch her behind the ears. Quickly, he ran for the flight deck, keeping an eye out for stray cats.

***

Tarrant had retreated to the top of the teleport console when Cally left. He hissed and lashed his tail, warning the other two to keep back.

Vila yawned, flashing some fearsome fangs in that bright orange face. His own tail twitched lazily, as though he didn't have a care in the world. Dayna, on the other hand, was slowly stalking back and forth, eyes always fixed on Tarrant. He hissed at her again for good measure.

Vila yawned again, this time adding an impressive full-body stretch. Tarrant's eyes shifted to him for a second, and Dayna pounced. She sailed from the couch to the console, hitting Tarrant dead on and knocking him off. He twisted and managed to land on his feet, and then Vila landed on his back, all signs of torpor gone. Tarrant shrieked and struck out with his claws. Vila let him go and leaped away, colliding with Dayna on her leap down to join the fray.

Tarrant raced out of the teleport section, running for his life with the other two cats in hot pursuit. All three were screaming bloody murder as they raced for the flight deck.

Behind them, the statue pulsed and glowed...

***

+...As the energy readings are identical, and the effects similar, the process should be reversible as before. I would deduce that it will only take a repeating of the action that triggered the event, most likely by the same individual.+ Orac buzzed and ticked. +This really is most fascinating.+

“I'm pleased you think so,” grumbled Avon. “Perhaps you can figure out how to communicate the proper instructions to a feline.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. A migraine was already settling in from this. He stopped and jerked his hand back for the third time as it automatically reached out to stroke the purring cat curled up next to him. “What are the chances that this will simply reverse itself on its own?”

+I do not have sufficient data to draw a conclusion. However, if you would allow me to observe this phenomenon for an extended period of time...+

“No.”

+Very well,+ Orac huffed. +Then I would suggest you try to explain it before the effect triggers your own transformation.+

“I am going nowhere near that thing.” He nudged the caracal. “Cally, wake up. I need you to...”

Cally snapped awake, and started snarling. Avon moved back, but she was staring at the entrance. Loud shrieks announced the arrival of the rest of the crew, as they tumbled down the steps in a ball of fur and fury.

Avon reacted instinctively, grabbing up his drink and throwing it at the howling tornado of fur. The cats broke apart instantly, glaring at Avon. Vila shook out his damp fur with a “ffft!”

“If you will behave yourselves for a minute, I may have the solution...”

There was a hum at the edge of his hearing. Four sets of feline ears flicked up. There was another flash of white.

And a large black cat scrabbled upright on the couch. Yellow eyes glared balefully at everyone and everything.

So much for staying out of range. Avon mrrrewed in exasperation, then leaped down to the deck. With injured dignity, he strode out of the flight deck, cuffing Tarrant along the way. The Cornish rex hissed and followed, as he'd hoped.

The statue was still glowing when they reached the teleport section. The green crystal eyes glittered menacingly. Avon headbutted Tarrant, who looked at him blankely.

Avon snarled, and pawed at the statue, glaring at Tarrant. Tarrant sat down next to it, and yawned.

Avon smacked the statue into the wall. Nothing. Growling, he stalked over and smacked it back over to Tarrant, who just looked at it, then him.

Avon stalked up to Tarrant, leaned into his face, and yelled, “Mow!”

Tarrant put back his ears and hissed. His tail flicked back and forth. After a moment's observation, Avon pounced on it, and bit as hard as he could.

“YOW!” Tarrant screeched, and attacked, paws flailing wildly. One paw smacked the statue, which hit the base of the console.

There was a tremendous flash of white.

And Avon's punch landed smack in Tarrant's eye, knocking the other man flat on his back. Avon looked down at his hand for a moment, then looked at Tarrant.

“That is absolutely the last time I buy anything off Kearn.” Tarrant sat up, holding his face. “Do I get in a punch of my own, to keep things even?”

“I wouldn't recommend it.”

***

“So Orac thinks that the teleport actually charges the material in the statue, priming it to go off with the right amount of kinetic force.”

“That's why nothing happened on the planet,” Dayna said. “I wondered why it didn't go off until we teleported back.”

“So Kearn didn't know,” Tarrant said. “I guess I won't kill him the next time I see him after all.”

“Why the hell would anyone make weapons that turns you into a cat?” Vila asked. “I thought the one was a fluke, but if there's two of them...”

“As the Oros culture is long-dead, we can only guess,” Cally sighed.

“It may not have been designed to do anything,” Avon said. “Oros was a primitive planet when its people were wiped out. The material is native to the planet, and they hardly had teleport capabilities. It's likely that they were just trinkets, and their makers had no idea at all what they could do under the right conditions.”

“I hope you're right. I'd hate to think there were superweapons like that ready to dig up,” Tarrant said, leaning back and pressing the cold pack against his black eye.

“It's kind of funny that you weren't anywhere near it when you turned into a cat.” Vila took a swig of his drink and grinned.

“Obviously, its range was greater than Orac calculated.”

“Or maybe it's because it happened to you before,” Cally suggested.

“There's a thought,” Vila said. “Do you suppose Blake and Jenna suddenly found themselves scratching fleas and chasing mice, wherever they've gotten to?”

“Don't be ridiculous, Vila. It couldn't have done anything of the sort.”

***

Many, many light years away, Blake shook his head. He'd had narrow escapes before, but this? He'd never thought the cat transformation would happen to him again, but he had to admit, the timing couldn't have been better. He wondered what those Federation guards were going to say to their commanders?

***

None of the ship's crew dared to ask Jenna what had happened. She made it clear she would kill them if they ever mentioned it to anyone else. Her second nursed the deep scratches on the hand that hadn't been able to resist petting the fluffy angora cat in the captain's chair.

***

Servalan had two of the guards killed. It wouldn't do to have them talk. The third was relieved and thrilled that his President had such trust in his discretion. She refrained from telling him that she couldn't bear to kill a man who could rub her ears in just that way. She definitely had plans for that young man...

***

Somewhere on a dead world, a one-eyed man stumbled through the ruins of a destroyed complex, utterly baffled by where he was, and what had happened.

***

In Disposal Complex 9, the workers were surprised by the huge gray fluffball that had scrabbled out of the cremation dump and streaked by them. It was widely discussed for an hour before everyone forgot all about it in the press of their duties. Someone dumped an animal down the chute as a cruel joke, was the consensus.

Gan hurried through the streets outside. It would take him a long time to sort out everything that had happened to him...

***

Five years later, two men in a creaky old shuttle landed next to a destroyed base on a long-forgotten planet. They spent some time digging and shifting debris. The wildlife, fortunately, had been largely reduced by the nearby volcano.

After some hours, they sat down. The large one set a bundle of clothes down on the cleanest spot he could find. The smaller one pulled out a box, and pressed some buttons. There was the hum of power discharge. After ten minutes, he removed a small, crude dog statue from it, and tapped it on the ground.

It glowed, and a flash of white created a Mastiff and a Beagle puppy. The Mastiff barked once, and sat patiently. The Beagle scratched itself vigorously.

There were small yips. The pups leaped to their feat, tails wagging excitedly. A small wolf cub crawled out of the tumbled ruins, and shook itself.

The beagle started yapping and dancing around the cub, licking its face and wagging his tail so hard it created a breeze. The mastiff danced and barked in place, and then nudged the little statue.

The beagle yelped and raced around the statue for a minute. Then a paw reached out and smacked it into a jumble of rocks.

There was a flash of white...

#Blake's 7 #Blake's Kittens #fanfic #thanks to @castielslight #both for the original kittens #and for approving of the sequel!

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