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gatortavern · 5 years ago

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Johnny Jhonny in: A Christmas Calamity

A STORY/IT’S DONE!/ FOR @pjmaxsson ! Happy holidays from your @pnatsecretsanta, and apologies that this was sent out so late! (also as a PS, PJ gets his own gift in an epilogue, which will be coming soon!)

Johnny Jhonny In: A Christmas Calamity

“ARGH!”

Johnny Jhonny kicked one of the small snow piles haphazardly placed along the sidewalk. The holiday season, as with most things in Mayview, had been bizarre so far, with a mild snowstorm being followed by a mild warm front. Only a thin layer of snow remained, save for the large dirty piles left by the snowplows.

“Out of anyone I coulda gotten, I had ta’ get Isabel Guerra? That chick’s impossible to get information on!”

“Well if it’s any consolation, she probably won’t murder you if you get it messed up. Pretty sure Lisa knows I got Violet ‘cause she’s been giving me that creepy smile for the past three days. Plus, I don’t think RJ even got someone from our grade,” Ollie chimed in.

RJ nodded in agreement, their furrowed brow hidden by their hood.

“None of this would even be a PROBLEM if Mr. Garcia had handed out these assignments earlier!” Stephen cried out, waving his hands in an exaggerated motion. “THREE DAYS to deliver a Secret Santa present?! We’re gonna have to do our investigations separately!”

The group, sans RJ, groaned at that. Gift giving for them was nothing to be taken lightly; each member of Johnny’s Gang would meticulously search for, or more often create, something for their target that would have some kind of personal connection for them, a tactic that extended to any poor fool that they got saddled with for a Secret Santa. This, of course, could take a bit of time to gather enough information to make such a gift, which the boys (and RJ) preferred doing together. That plan was now ruined thanks to Mr. Garcia sleeping through the day he was supposed to hand the slips out, on top of his continued forgetting.

There was a nudge on Johnny’s arm, and he swerved to see where RJ was pointing. At the base of the hill they were slowly traversing down was his target, a maroon sweater barely peeking out under a stone grey jacket, mahogany hair lightly nestled at the shoulders. There’s no way Guerra wouldn’t suspect an ambush if the four of them went down, a thought Johnny saw reflected in his compadres’ eyes.

“Go get ‘em, slugger!” whispered Stephen with a shove that was anything but soft, sending Johnny stumbling nearly a quarter of the way down the slope before he caught his footing. Halfway down the hill, Johnny stopped and gave a quick glance at his pals, who gave waves of encouragement and thumbs up as a response.

---

About three feet in, Johnny was able to gather one bit of information on Isabel Guerra:

She had really weird ideas for recreational activities.

After a few close calls, he had managed to tail her into a weird-looking cave mound. The damp walls seemed to eat up any light, as Johnny had soon found it hard to see even a foot in front of him, and the soft ground obscured any sounds he could have used to follow her. The paths were wide (he surmised that Ollie could easily walk beside him) and winding ever downward, and the bully soon realized that there were multiple sprawling paths. Johnny silently cursed himself for not charging his phone the day before. At least there would have been a small light source if he had.

The small, uneven muttering up ahead caught his attention.

“Oh geez. Oh man. D-did I go the right way? How are there so many paths? What if Mr. Max is hurt? What if that thing comes back? Ohhh…”

Slowly, Johnny crept up to the voice, hearing it fret over many things. He squinched up his eyes, trying to think. This definitely wasn’t Isabel-her voice could command the room, confidence would ooze from every sound she made.

“I can’t stay here worrying about this! Mr. Max needs me! But…”

“Who the heck’re you?”

“WAAAUGH!”

Johnny could just barely make out the hazy shape of a boy about his age in front of him, quaking intensely. He wouldn’t have enough time to ruffle this one up, he figured. Got too far away from Guerra already. He’d have to make this quick in order to catch up to her and hopefully hear her let something slip.

“A’ight fella, this is the way it’s gonna work here. I’m feeling pretty generous t’day. Gotta make sure I get the deets on somebody real fast n’ stuff. I’m not even gonna stop ta’ beat ya’ up right now, my mood’s that good. Just tell me where the Guerra chick went.”

“Uhhh…I…don’t know who…that is..?” came the hasty reply.

“Er.. Isabel Guerra? Brown eyes, long brown hair, gray jacket? ”

“…Oh. OH!” The boy seemed to perk up a little upon hearing that. “That’s the scary girl’s name? The one from that weird dodgeball game, right?”

“Hitball, yeah, she was t’ other captain. Besides me.”

“O-oh, okay. I, uh, wasn’t paying too much attention to the game…mostly just watching Max. Ah! Are you the guy Max blocked that ball for?”

That one stung a little. If there was anything that made Johnny Jhonny uncomfortable, it’s someone taking a punishment that should’ve rightfully been his.

“Yeah…that’s me,” he said, the agitation creeping into his voice. “You gonna tell me where the girl went now, or are ya gonna stand here and waste my freakin’ time?”

“Well…I dunno where…Isabel, right? Went exactly…but if she’s in here, that means she’s going to help Max too! Which is good, because this place kinda scares me..”

Great. This kid wasn’t any help at all, Johnny thought to himself as he began to storm off. Well, as best as he could storm in this place, anyway, as the ground muffled all his footsteps.

“Uh, mister sir, you’re heading into a wall,” the boy provided helpfully right as Johnny smashed his face into a bed of dirt. “Are you able to see in here? Because it looks like you’re squinting pretty hard…”

“Oh, so you can see where yer’ goin’ in this pitch black mess?”

“A-a little, mister sir. This place has a lot of weird turns and forks and dead ends. If you can’t tell where you’re going, you could get pretty lost.”

Johnny suddenly had an idea.

“Right then, it’s settled! I can’t see a foot in fronta’ me, and yer’ too scared to fight…whatever it is you came in here fer’, so you get ta’ do the lookin’ and I’ll do the fightin’! I’ll let ya’ pay me back for it later.”

“Uh…ah…oh…kay”, came the uneasy reply. “There’s a path to your left. It’s straight for a while after that, from what I can see.”

And with that, the two set off.

---

Johnny couldn’t tell how long he’d been walking in silence for. At least with the Ed ambush a few days prior, he’d been able to gauge some method of progress by seeing just where Ed was and what he was up to. But here there wasn’t anything to see ahead of him. He could barely hear his own footsteps on the ground if he paid enough attention, but he couldn’t hear the other kid’s at all, even though with a glance he could see the kid steadily at his side.

He wasn’t scared, of course. It was just a dark silent cave, that’s all. Nothing that pathetic could scare Johnny Jhonny.

He was, admittedly, just a little creeped out. He needed something to keep his mind off of this. Besides Guerra, of course. No sense chasing Guerra with some hyped up senses that’d give him away.

“So what’s your deal, anyway? If yer’ so scared of everything, whatcha even come to a spooky cave for?” he asked.

The sad little laugh’s proximity made him jump.

“I was trying to go around with Max a little bit, to see the town again. I thought maybe I could become a little braver, maybe even help in a fight...but then a big spirit came up and grabbed him! I followed it here, but then Max dropped his bat trying to get out of its arms, and I rushed in to help and give it back to him. He can’t fight real good without it… but this is a big cave, and I can’t get the bat to him without going through it, and it’s dark and I got scared…”

Johnny stared at the kid with only the slightest expression of disbelief. “You wanna learn how to fight?” “I have to be able to help out when he gets attacked! So I can have his back! Because that’s what friends do!”

There was a sense of conviction in the kid’s voice that wasn’t there before. A conviction immediately lost when the floor shook and a deep rumble emanated from below, if the higher pitched wailing that came from his position was anything to go by.

Once the rumbling stopped and Johnny confirmed that he could not beat the earthquake into submission, he turned and gently slapped his hand over the general area of his partner’s head. Although he missed his mouth entirely, it still worked wonders in stopping the kid’s terrified babbling.

“Tell ya what, ya picked a good day ta run into me. I’ll whip ya up into ship-shop shape so you can wallop all yer problems while I’m out nerd hunting. A’course, you’ll have to pay me back with interest…”, he said, cracking his knuckles for effect, but secretly impressed that the kid was trying to take initiative.

He was not expecting a shaky, uncertain “thank you” as a response, but it filled him with a weird sense of pride, and soon an exchange of stories began.

----

To the timid kid’s credit, he had kept his end of the bargain.

Johnny soon realized the kid was a good eavesdropper, since he mentioned that he only knew the girl for a few days. He would’ve quicker taken Isabel to be a dog person afraid of spiders than the other way around. Apparently she was close to her spider too, the one that she’d lost recently. Called it a friend. Johnny could relate; the loss of his boxer four years ago still hurt to think about somewhat. She was also Max’s friend, so of course she’d be into the freaky flipping and jumping around he did constantly. Between her and that spiky nerd dude, freaky movements seemed to be something of a requirement for being that kid’s buddy. He made a mental note to himself to practice some moves with his pals later to show him up.

Some of the facts were a bit harder to make sense of. According to him, she had come with some “scary guy with glasses” to help sort out a…evil whale frog the other day? Riding a paper horse? With the kid’s luck he probably found that weirdo history teacher that’s always wearing shades, but with the kid’s track record of jumping at the smacking sounds of Johnny’s hands, he could’ve been scared of pretty much anyone.

And if what the kid was saying was true, he had somehow managed to punch a teacher in the face for “being evil”. Not a bad start to a fighting career, even if he said that he ran and hid behind Max immediately after.

On his own side, Johnny had launched into relaying many of his and his gang’s bouts over the years, placing emphasis on each blow, duck and dodge. What started out as giving advice on which attacks are what, when people are giving them and how to take/sidestep them quickly derailed into making as great a story as possible. Johnny was just too used to framing these stories for his pals. His partner didn’t seem to mind it too much, though, and every hushed “wow” and question of what happened next only served to hype him up further. He told of turf wars and stakeouts, of the gang catching up to a group of cyclists that had bought the last of the candy that RJ had been looking forward to all week, even his battle with Ed and the Great Starch Hunt.

“’An then he gave us stars from his own pocket for beatin’ him, and Ed took off for greater quarry. Gotta meet up with him later to get RJ’s stuff back…an’ mine too, come ta think of it. Then we got thrown inta’ detention.”

“Wow, mister sir, you sure do get into a lot of adventures.”

“Whoa whoa, knock it off with the ‘mister sir’ crap, yer makin’ me feel old.”

“I don’t think you’ve told me your name though.”

“Wha-you don’t know my name? After everything I just told you?”

“S-sorry…”

“The name’s Johnny. Johnny Jhonny. Forget it and I whack ya.”

“Ah, okay mister Johnny.”

There was a small back and forth about not using “mister” and the kid’s inability to get it through his head, followed by a weird silence, until a small question piped up from the compatriot:

“So you were always good at fighting the bad guys and…other guys, huh? I hope I can be that fearless someday.”

Johnny paused. The image of an angry Jeff from a few days before surfaced in his head, mocking him for protecting his buddies and promising a permanent scar. He remembered how that ball came sailing towards his pals and how much it’d hurt them if he moved. How people kept taking shots for him that weren’t meant for them: Dimitri, Max…

…and how readily RJ and Ollie were to take them, too.

“…That ain’t it. Listen, it’s not about never bein’ scared. That Hitball game where everythin’ went nuts? I acted all brave to calm down my buds, but…I was shakin’ inside. But I took that fear and threw it right back at that little punk. You just gotta take all that terror that’s buildin’ in your chest and put it in your fists instead. Pick up all that fear those jerks put in ya and make ‘em take it back tenfold.”

“How do you do that, Johnny sir?”

The “sir” wasn’t much better, but Johnny brushed it aside for now. “Well, you know how you keep screamin’ whenever somethin’ spooks ya? Make it louder. Make it a war cry! Bellow and yell in their face and make em’ pay for makin’ that sound come outta’ your mouth! And when you think maybe you should book it, or get worried that you can’t take the fight, you think of how your friends would be in the same spot as you, and how they’d get hurt instead, and then you beat up that foe for daring to put that image in your head!”

There was a pause before he spoke again with as much mentorly conviction as he could muster.

“Ya’ don’t let those punks hurt your friends. Ya gotta stand by your pals, fight by their side, so they don’t take blows that ain’t their due.”

“Because that’s what friends do.”

“Exactly.”

A few seconds passed without any words. Johnny then piped up again.

“Y’know, I don’t think you ever told me your name neither.”

“Oh. Uhm..it’s PJ. I’m PJ.”

Johnny couldn’t really see the kid’s face at all, but he could feel the smile from where he was standing. Or maybe that was just the small smile creeping up on his own face. He wasn’t sure, but the area felt calmer, the silence almost welcoming.

That didn’t last.

Another rumble cut through the air, and the quakes nearly threw the bully to the ground. Then another noise, just loud enough for Johnny to make out, bellowed from below.

“KKKKKKKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

“That’s the spirit that got mister Max! It’s close!” shouted PJ before a third rumble sounded. Johnny felt loose soil fall into his hair and vigorously ran his hands through his ‘do. He wasn’t exactly sure what a “spirit” meant, or what could’ve possibly made that noise, but it wasn’t going to stop him from following Guerra. He charged ahead.

Straight into a wall of dirt.

“Ahh! The path is blocked off! It must have touched the soil again!”

“Wha..?” came the muffled reply.

“The spirit can touch things! It moved the soil around earlier when I was making my way in!”

Johnny felt hands on his shoulders for a brief moment before he was catapulted backwards. His hands quickly found soft fabric and the two sped away back up the hallway, swerving and curving to avoid pieces of the ceiling falling down around them. The tremors intensified, and Johnny swung back, bracing himself to punch an enemy he couldn’t see.

KLANG!!

It took a minute for his ears to stop screaming at him, but the vibrations underneath him seemed to halt. His foot slipped for half a second over a pit that he didn’t think was there before. As the ringing subsided, his head pieced together what that noise could have been.

“Hehey, that sounded like a solid hit! Looks like ya got more punch than ya thought, lil slugger!”

“Uh…I didn’t actually swing at it…it came up from underneath me and hit the bat with its face…��

“A solid hold then. You held the bat steady while it came at ya.”

“I was more frozen in fear…”

“Dude, take the compliment before I shove it down your throat hole.”

“OK, Johnny sir.”

“NO, it’s just—you don’t have ta—ah, forget it.”

Johnny turned back and felt around the edges of the hole with his shoe. Whatever came up from the ground was huge, as it took him a while to find a part of the soft earth that wasn’t sloping into the pit. He had half a mind to try throwing something in it to hear how deep it went, but the way the ground was, he wouldn’t be able to hear how far something went anyway.

With no other options, the two started backtracking farther up the cave.

---

“Hey, come ta think of it…PJ, are you in your pajamas?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so.”

“Why’d you come down here in your pajamas when it’s this cold out? You lookin’ to catch a flu or something?”

“I can’t really…touch anything unless it’s possessed. …or a spirit… …or Max…or people with special powers.”

“Whaddya mean you can’t touch things? You’re holding Max’s bat. You just touched me like five minutes ago!”

“This is Max’s special weapon with special powers! I can touch it because it’s full of magic.”

“Yeah, well I ain’t no freaky jumpin’ wizard with wizard tools, and ya touched me, so there. What the heck are you talking about with ‘spirits’ anyway? You saying this cave is full of ghosts or something?”

“I don’t think spirits are the same thing as ghosts… they’re weird. They can be really big, or small, and they all have powers, and they can have legs.”

“Ha! Now I know yer’ bluffin’! Stephen told me that ghosts look like super see-through people with a faint bluish tint on ‘em. Only the ones from other places don’t got feet.”

There was an awkward silence. Johnny couldn’t see the face of his partner beside him, but he could tell that the look on his face was one of confusion.

“…You’re new to this, aren’t you?”

Before Johnny could ask him what the heck that was supposed to mean, the rumbling returned. The large, soft chunks of dirt rained down on Johnny’s shoulders, and the ground beneath him quickly lost stability. Small hills of soil quickly piled up near his feet.

The place was caving in.

Johnny quickly found PJ’s arms (though there was little need, as his hands had already found Johnny’s wrists as soon as the rumbles had begun again) and booked it back up the path. He soon found it hard to block out the burning running up his side, or his lungs crying out for air, or the urge to remove all the dirt from his hair, but the twists and turns the path soon divulged helped distract him ever so slightly.

There was only one brief stop, when two other shadows crossed their path, one yanking the other forward in a similar manner. The long hair fluttering into the other shadow’s face was a dead giveaway for Guerra, but when Johnny tried to follow her, he ran into another wall. The place must be coming down fast if he was blocked off that quickly, he thought, and scrambled back as fast as he could to get the heck out of Chrysler.

After more twists and turns and dodges, a blinding light made its presence known. Johnny raced forward, the screaming in his sides unmatched by the crumbling walls becoming more evident from the light. As the exit loomed nearer and the snowy woods came into focus, he noticed the archway begin to buckle. He forced himself forward as fast as he could muster as the shiny white window to the outside became polluted with fallen sediment. He could feel the cool air on his skin and in his lungs, soothing his aching….well, everything. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the roof give entirely. He threw both of his arms forward in desperation, only dimly realizing that the grip he’d felt on his arm had vanished.

Suddenly he felt a hard shove from behind, and everything went white.

---

Johnny lied on the ground for a few seconds, allowing the small layer of snow to soothe his burning limbs. Each inhale brought both pain and relief. Slowly, he got back up to his feet, rubbing tiny patches of nearby snow underneath his pant legs to numb them ever so slightly and surveying the ground.

For the most part, the woods looked about the same as when he had entered, though he hadn’t been paying much attention to the ground at the time. Every track in the snow looked fresh, so it hadn’t snowed any further after he had entered the cave. A massive gouge in the frozen fluff confirmed that someone had been dragged into the mound, and he could see his shoeprints from his stalking mission, his wavy treads trailing just behind a far smoother and slightly smaller boot print.

He paused, then looked around the marks again. There were only two types of prints in the snow. Unless the kid had trod over the haphazard gouge, that was one type too few.

A small gleam caught his eye, and as he registered what was giving off such a glare, his eyes widened.

Lying three or four steps away from his position was an aluminum bat.

His head quickly snapped up to the cave’s entrance. The once great gaping maw that had lead down to the damp dark underneath had been entirely filled with moist brown soil.

There was no sign of life nearby.

He tried to scream for his cave companion, but his voice flickered in and out like a match refusing to light. Within seconds he was at the cave’s entrance, frantically clawing out bits of earth, searching for an opening, his trembling legs and pinwheeling arms providing the howling his throat could not produce.

As he opened his mouth to attempt crying out a fifth time, another scream filled the area for him.

“KKKKKKKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Johnny stumbled over onto his back, scrambling back into the snow while keeping eye contact with the thing. It was a gigantic mantis, about a few heads taller than a bus, with glowing white eyes the size of the globe Mr. Garcia had in his room. A viscous purple permeated its form and gleamed in the light as if it was made of Jello, and it shimmered like some form of mirage.

It noticed him instantly. Quicker than he’d ever expect a mantis to move, it raised a violet-tinged talon and swung its biological guillotine towards him. The light streaming through the bug caused Johnny’s eyes to water, and he braced himself.

Another familiar sound struck through the air, and his ears cried out in protest.

Johnny blinked away the tears to see another purple shape floating just a few feet in front of him. While the consistency still looked around the same, this one took the form of what looked like a twelve year old kid. A squint revealed what looked to be some form of shirt with a collar and wrist cuffs. There were no sign of legs; instead, the torso tapered off to a wispy serpentine tail. As Johnny stared at the apparition with a quivering mouth and eyes wide as saucers, the purple boy struggled to retain his position. The redhead mentally shook himself and peered beyond the kid; the mantis’s front claws had locked on to the bat the kid was holding and was attempting to push it out from underneath him.

“Aaah! The spirit’s too strong! I can’t keep this up!” the ghost exclaimed as the mantis lowered its head to his eye level, chattering large mandibles that would look less out of place on an ant. Its voice sounded familiar, Johnny thought, and oh sweet merciful Punch why did it sound so familiar, it couldn’t be--

“Please, mister Johnny! Heeelp!”

Johnny glanced from the purple boy to the purple bug and back a few times, his breathing becoming more erratic. It was then that his voice finally burst through in full force.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!”

For a brief second, the boy turned his head just a bit to look at Johnny. He had the same glowing eyes the bug did, as well as a small curl of hair sticking from his top. A look of panic and confusion soon snapped into realization, and the boy turned back and joined in the din.

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!”

It was barely audible above the combined noise of Johnny’s and the bug’s screams, but it was a valiant war cry nonetheless.

Through the wails, Johnny noticed the ghost slowly pushing back upwards against the mantis. The redheaded rogue shot himself to a sitting position and shoved the ghost forward, and the insidious insect buckled. The cold metal of the bat reunited with the behemoth’s face, and as it reeled backward, PJ raised his volume just a little bit, pitched his arms back, and swung the bat right into the creature’s eye. After another round of shrieking, the mantis waved one arm in front of them, and with a tepid “peh”, it retreated back into the earth.

Johnny stared at the spot the mantis had been a second ago in shock, only turning back to the ghost as it floated back in his direction.

“We did it! We beat the bad guy with …uh…violence! And friendship! And violent friendship!” PJ exclaimed as he neared Johnny, his grin somehow resting on the verge of just off-looking enough to be intimidating.

The bully tried to get up, or scramble away, or anything, but his body betrayed him. A fist slowly and haltingly tried to meet the ghost, but even that only made it halfway to its destination before stopping, the limb quaking uselessly in the air. The seconds passed as the ghost stared at the shaking fist until finally he clasped his hand around it.

Johnny’s voice failed him once again, only letting out a small squeak. He could only stare.

After a few minutes, the pajama-clad lad let out an “Oh!”

“I think that’s Isabel and Max over there!”, he exclaimed. Johnny barely managed to turn his head to see a large smoky red arrow a few yards away. “I have to hurry home too, I sort of didn’t tell Lefty where I was going again and he’s probably going to be real mad if he finds out I left.”

“Bye Johnny! Thanks for everythiiiing!” the ghost cried as he flew away.

Johnny just stared forward for a few minutes, his body completely spent. His head tried to come up with reasons for what just happened, but to no avail.

It took about ten minutes for his legs to finally work again, and as he made his way back home to complete his mission, the thoughts nagged at his mind.

He fought…something. With a ghost. He had Friendship Fused with a ghost.

He had befriended a ghost.

He shook his head back and forth to try to clear his head. He got what he needed out of the…ghost…and now it was time to put his newfound knowledge to good use.

Operation Season’s Beatings was a go.

---

All things considered, the Activity Club had a rather uneventful morning. Early patrol had consisted of dealing with one minor spirit with a compulsion to spread gift wrap everywhere, and Isaac’s small kicks of wind made quick work of the litter.

The lunch bell rang, and Isabel hurried to her locker to put away her books. The four of them had promised to eat lunch together outside and possibly share what they had gotten with the others. She thought about how Isaac would try to play it off as if he hadn’t looked at his gift yet when he had been keeping the plush ninja bunny really badly hidden in his jeans pocket all morning and grinned.

Upon kicking the locker door open, she was greeted with what looked like a shoebox with red Santa wrapping paper awkwardly balancing above her books. The spectral quickly glanced around to see if she was being watched and just barely caught a glimpse of red retreating. Shrugging it off, she grabbed her prize and headed to the schoolyard.

Unsurprisingly, Isaac was gushing about the bunny, his eyes reminding her of those “canine eye inflation disease” posters her grandfather had put up in her room. It was a well-crafted rabbit, from what she could see, and the black ninja garb combined with a small metal headband was a nice touch.

“Oh man Izzy, you’re gonna love what Max got,” Ed chirped as she plopped down beside the three.

“I’m serious, whoever told my Secret Santa about this is dead,” Max groaned as he revealed a model train set from his box. Isabel laughed heartily. “My dad is never going to stop running this thing! It’ll be puffing around upstairs until Halloween!”

“How long did it take Stephen to figure it out, by the way?” she asked Ed, who mirrored her devious grin.

“Two periods and I’m pretty sure Ollie was in on it.”

“Do I even want to know what awful fate you brought upon that fool?”

“Hey, when I told him the alien was right behind him, I wasn’t lying. And the Velcro stuck pretty well, all things considered.”

After hearing Isaac gush about the bunny some more (she recalled a scant few times where his voice reached that high of a pitch) and watching Ed reveal his gift of some art supplies and an Optimus Prime robot, the kids turned their attention to Isabel’s red box.

“The tag just says ‘Guerra!’ on it with no sender, so we’re off to a good start already”, Max said dryly as she carefully tore at the paper.

Isaac complained that he wanted to use that paper for later, so Isabel removed it carefully as to make it as whole as possible. Soon the box was bare, and the kids shot each other gleeful looks. Isabel ripped the box open.

Everyone paused. The boys shot uncertain glances at their friend, who stared at the contents with the blankest look on her face any of them had ever seen.

The box was filled with spiders of various sizes, colors and materials. Felt spiders with pom-pom bodies and googly eyes stared innocently upwards, a drawing of a spider eating a dog was taped to the side of the box, and spiders crafted with pebbles and glue stubbornly stuck to the bottom.

There were three origami spiders scattered throughout the box, each done in a different style. One of them had red eyes, saw-tooth fangs and an oddly misshapen head.

There was a handwritten note taped to the lid.

“Guerra,

I heard you lost your spider pal. Having somebody you love leave you stings something awful. So I made you a bunch of spiders that will never die on you ever. Plus to give you something to remember your friend by.

PS. They eat dogs”

“They didn’t even write their name on it?” Isaac murmured as Isabel picked up the red-eyed origami spider, slowly turning it in her palm.

“Izzy?” Ed asked gently as his friend traced an hourglass shape into the spider’s body. She stole a glance behind her of the red-haired idiot she’d seen earlier, propped up against a tree just within her line of sight, doing what looked like his best not to fall asleep. “You OK?”

She turned to her friends with a small smile, tucking the odd spider into the deep pocket of her jacket.

“Yeah. I’m just fine.”

#paranatural #pnat #pnatsecretsanta #isabel guerra #johnny jhonny #pj

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pnatsecretsanta · 5 years ago

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Johnny Jhonny in: A Christmas Calamity

A STORY!/ IT’S DONE!/ FOR @pjmaxsson! Apologies for getting this out so late, I hope that this little tale brings you a bit of belated Christmas cheer, and more! Without further ado, here is:

Johnny Jhonny in: A Christmas Calamity

“ARGH!”

“Out of anyone I coulda gotten, I had ta’ get Isabel Guerra? That chick’s impossible to get information on!”

RJ nodded in agreement, their furrowed brow hidden by their hood.

—

About three feet in, Johnny was able to gather one bit of information on Isabel Guerra:

She had really weird ideas for recreational activities.

The small, uneven muttering up ahead caught his attention.

“Oh geez. Oh man. D-did I go the right way? How are there so many paths? What if Mr. Max is hurt? What if that thing comes back? Ohhh…”

“I can’t stay here worrying about this! Mr. Max needs me! But…”

“Who the heck’re you?”

“WAAAUGH!”

“Uhhh…I…don’t know who…that is..?” came the hasty reply.

“Er.. Isabel Guerra? Brown eyes, long brown hair, gray jacket? ”

“…Oh. OH!” The boy seemed to perk up a little upon hearing that. “That’s the scary girl’s name? The one from that weird dodgeball game, right?”

“Hitball, yeah, she was t’ other captain. Besides me.”

“O-oh, okay. I, uh, wasn’t paying too much attention to the game…mostly just watching Max. Ah! Are you the guy Max blocked that ball for?”

That one stung a little. If there was anything that made Johnny Jhonny uncomfortable, it’s someone taking a punishment that should’ve rightfully been his.

“Yeah…that’s me,” he said, the agitation creeping into his voice. “You gonna tell me where the girl went now, or are ya gonna stand here and waste my freakin’ time?”

“Well…I dunno where…Isabel, right? Went exactly…but if she’s in here, that means she’s going to help Max too! Which is good, because this place kinda scares me..”

Great. This kid wasn’t any help at all, Johnny thought to himself as he began to storm off. Well, as best as he could storm in this place, anyway, as the ground muffled all his footsteps.

“Oh, so you can see where yer’ goin’ in this pitch black mess?”

“A-a little, mister sir. This place has a lot of weird turns and forks and dead ends. If you can’t tell where you’re going, you could get pretty lost.”

Johnny suddenly had an idea.

“Uh…ah…oh…kay”, came the uneasy reply. “There’s a path to your left. It’s straight for a while after that, from what I can see.”

And with that, the two set off.

—

He wasn’t scared, of course. It was just a dark silent cave, that’s all. Nothing that pathetic could scare Johnny Jhonny.

He was, admittedly, just a little creeped out. He needed something to keep his mind off of this. Besides Guerra, of course. No sense chasing Guerra with some hyped up senses that’d give him away.

“So what’s your deal, anyway? If yer’ so scared of everything, whatcha even come to a spooky cave for?” he asked.

The sad little laugh’s proximity made him jump.

“I was trying to go around with Max a little bit, to see the town again. I thought maybe I could become a little braver, maybe even help in a fight…but then a big spirit came up and grabbed him! I followed it here, but then Max dropped his bat trying to get out of its arms, and I rushed in to help and give it back to him. He can’t fight real good without it… but this is a big cave, and I can’t get the bat to him without going through it, and it’s dark and I got scared…”

Johnny stared at the kid with only the slightest expression of disbelief. “You wanna learn how to fight?”

“I have to be able to help out when he gets attacked! So I can have his back! Because that’s what friends do!”

He was not expecting a shaky, uncertain “thank you” as a response, but it filled him with a weird sense of pride, and soon an exchange of stories began.

—-

To the timid kid’s credit, he had kept his end of the bargain.

“Wow, mister sir, you sure do get into a lot of adventures.”

“Whoa whoa, knock it off with the ‘mister sir’ crap, yer makin’ me feel old.”

“I don’t think you’ve told me your name though.”

“Wha-you don’t know my name? After everything I just told you?”

“S-sorry…”

“The name’s Johnny. Johnny Jhonny. Forget it and I whack ya.”

“Ah, okay mister Johnny.”

There was a small back and forth about not using “mister” and the kid’s inability to get it through his head, followed by a weird silence, until a small question piped up from the compatriot:

“So you were always good at fighting the bad guys and…other guys, huh? I hope I can be that fearless someday.”

…and how readily RJ and Ollie were to take them, too.

“How do you do that, Johnny sir?”

There was a pause before he spoke again with as much mentorly conviction as he could muster.

“Ya’ don’t let those punks hurt your friends. Ya gotta stand by your pals, fight by their side, so they don’t take blows that ain’t their due.”

“Because that’s what friends do.”

“Exactly.”

A few seconds passed without any words. Johnny then piped up again.

“Y’know, I don’t think you ever told me your name neither.”

“Oh. Uhm..it’s PJ. I’m PJ.”

That didn’t last.

Another rumble cut through the air, and the quakes nearly threw the bully to the ground. Then another noise, just loud enough for Johnny to make out, bellowed from below.

“KKKKKKKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Straight into a wall of dirt.

“Ahh! The path is blocked off! It must have touched the soil again!”

“Wha..?” came the muffled reply.

“The spirit can touch things! It moved the soil around earlier when I was making my way in!”

KLANG!!

“Hehey, that sounded like a solid hit! Looks like ya got more punch than ya thought, lil slugger!”

“Uh…I didn’t actually swing at it…it came up from underneath me and hit the bat with its face…”

“A solid hold then. You held the bat steady while it came at ya.”

“I was more frozen in fear…”

“Dude, take the compliment before I shove it down your throat hole.”

“OK, Johnny sir.”

“NO, it’s just—you don’t have ta—ah, forget it.”

With no other options, the two started backtracking farther up the cave.

—

“Hey, come ta think of it…PJ, are you in your pajamas?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so.”

“Why’d you come down here in your pajamas when it’s this cold out? You lookin’ to catch a flu or something?”

“I can’t really…touch anything unless it’s possessed. …or a spirit… …or Max…or people with special powers.”

“Whaddya mean you can’t touch things? You’re holding Max’s bat. You just touched me like five minutes ago!”

“This is Max’s special weapon with special powers! I can touch it because it’s full of magic.”

“I don’t think spirits are the same thing as ghosts… they’re weird. They can be really big, or small, and they all have powers, and they can have legs.”

“Ha! Now I know yer’ bluffin’! Stephen told me that ghosts look like super see-through people with a faint bluish tint on ‘em. Only the ones from other places don’t got feet.”

There was an awkward silence. Johnny couldn’t see the face of his partner beside him, but he could tell that the look on his face was one of confusion.

“…You’re new to this, aren’t you?”

The place was caving in.

Suddenly he felt a hard shove from behind, and everything went white.

—

He paused, then looked around the marks again. There were only two types of prints in the snow. Unless the kid had trod over the haphazard gouge, that was one type too few.

A small gleam caught his eye, and as he registered what was giving off such a glare, his eyes widened.

Lying three or four steps away from his position was an aluminum bat.

His head quickly snapped up to the cave’s entrance. The once great gaping maw that had lead down to the damp dark underneath had been entirely filled with moist brown soil.

There was no sign of life nearby.

As he opened his mouth to attempt crying out a fifth time, another scream filled the area for him.

“KKKKKKKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Another familiar sound struck through the air, and his ears cried out in protest.

“Please, mister Johnny! Heeelp!”

Johnny glanced from the purple boy to the purple bug and back a few times, his breathing becoming more erratic. It was then that his voice finally burst through in full force.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!”

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!”

It was barely audible above the combined noise of Johnny’s and the bug’s screams, but it was a valiant war cry nonetheless.

Johnny stared at the spot the mantis had been a second ago in shock, only turning back to the ghost as it floated back in his direction.

Johnny’s voice failed him once again, only letting out a small squeak. He could only stare.

After a few minutes, the pajama-clad lad let out an “Oh!”

“Bye Johnny! Thanks for everythiiiing!” the ghost cried as he flew away.

Johnny just stared forward for a few minutes, his body completely spent. His head tried to come up with reasons for what just happened, but to no avail.

It took about ten minutes for his legs to finally work again, and as he made his way back home to complete his mission, the thoughts nagged at his mind.

He fought…something. With a ghost. He had Friendship Fused with a ghost.

He had befriended a ghost.

He shook his head back and forth to try to clear his head. He got what he needed out of the…ghost…and now it was time to put his newfound knowledge to good use.

Operation Season’s Beatings was a go.

—

“Oh man Izzy, you’re gonna love what Max got,” Ed chirped as she plopped down beside the three.

“How long did it take Stephen to figure it out, by the way?” she asked Ed, who mirrored her devious grin.

“Two periods and I’m pretty sure Ollie was in on it.”

“Do I even want to know what awful fate you brought upon that fool?”

“Hey, when I told him the alien was right behind him, I wasn’t lying. And the Velcro stuck pretty well, all things considered.”

“The tag just says ‘Guerra!’ on it with no sender, so we’re off to a good start already”, Max said dryly as she carefully tore at the paper.

Everyone paused. The boys shot uncertain glances at their friend, who stared at the contents with the blankest look on her face any of them had ever seen.

There were three origami spiders scattered throughout the box, each done in a different style. One of them had red eyes, saw-tooth fangs and an oddly misshapen head.

There was a handwritten note taped to the lid.

“Guerra,

PS. They eat dogs”

“They didn’t even write their name on it?” Isaac murmured as Isabel picked up the red-eyed origami spider, slowly turning it in her palm.

She turned to her friends with a small smile, tucking the odd spider into the deep pocket of her jacket.

“Yeah, I’m just fine.”

#Ooo! A fic!#Cute!#submission #fic #pj #johnny #ollie #rj #stephen #jang #izzy #max #ed #isaac #ac

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delicrieux · 6 years ago

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-- valar dohaeris

+ all men must serve + chapter 3

pairing: jon snow x reader x various

summary: Tormund and Podrick try to get along with (Name)

warnings: none (i think) just swearing!

words: 2.7k

author’s note: this chapter is more light-hearted (kinda sorta not really)

tagging: @emmaamalie - @storiiteller

feedback is always appreciated xoxo

masterlist | ch.2 | v. d. masterlist | buy me coffee☕

THE RED PRIESTESS FROM ASSHAI

The Hall is hot, humid, and full to the brim with people and their eager breaths. A small feast – the revival of Jon Snow and Lady Stark’s sudden visit – takes place in order to celebrate this victory before the storm. A great battle looms over the shoulders of the Starks and their loyal followers. A moment of happiness is what all of them deserve, especially before the call to arms.

You sit beside a timid round faced Podrick and a messy haired loud mouthed Tormund right across you. It was the Wildling’s idea to have you join them, as he had, eagerly at that, dragged you from the courtyard and shoved a goblet of dry, cheap wine into your hand. Its ruby surface is diluted and rose, bleak in front of your deep red garments. You are a red spring bird amongst the crows, shining like a midnight star, and for that reason alone you find men’s gazes wandering to you as the evening progresses, each look bolder than the last. Tormund had already drunk his wine, now filling himself more from the pitcher and spilling half of it on the table. He regards his slip of hand with a hearty laugh. Podrick beside you sips politely, his eyes shooting to Brienne of Tarth, the lady knight-to-be seated close to Sansa, set on never leaving the girl for too long.

“C’mon, drink up,” Tormund encourages, clinking his glass with yours and nearly knocking it over, “if you’re quick you might miss the fact that it tastes like piss.”

Podrick snorts into his drink, red-cheeked and giddy, as Tormund, in one impressive gulp, empties the glass, and then moves for the pitcher. You watch mildly impressed. This whole interaction is completely out of your element, and the stiffness in your neck, lack of movement, lack of even a shy glance outside the figures of these two men proves your discomfort visibly. Melisandre is nowhere to be seen, possibly locked away in her chamber, possibly watching the flames and the secrets which hide within them. You should have joined her, you ponder, staring at your full cup, you should be there with her, be preparing for what is instore for the future. You are here to help, not to mindlessly blabber and mingle with strangers you shall never see again.

“You seem unease, Miss.” Podrick comments, his voice gentle, concerned, as his brows knit together in wonder. You say nothing, uncertain if there is anything to say at all. Should you correct him? Lie? There is no point to it. Your fate is not intertwined with his; it would be a waste of time to even engage him. “Is our company…unpleasant?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Pond.” Tormund says, lowering the pitcher from his mouth, “Lady Red here’s probably used to somethin’ a lil’ more fancy than this shithole. Ain’t that right?” He looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to confirm his suspicions and prove just what a pompous royal you are: he had noticed you barely talking to anyone but the Lord Commander, and you and Melisandre rarely left the confinements of your chambers, and if you did, it was to watch eerily from the shadows as the men around you worked and swore.

“No.” You reply after a moment of hesitation, “I’ve…never been to a feast.” It is not a shameful admission, though his reaction ticks you.

“You what?” Tormund barks, laugher bubbling in his chest, “You a good liar, you know that?”

“It is true.” You persevere, voice unwavering, still cool, still unimpressed, “I am a priestess. There are no celebrations in the temple.”

“You mean to tell me that you’ve never had a drink before?” He raises a suspicious brow, “You buyin’ this, Poddick?”

“It’s Podrick.” The man nervously replies. Tormund merely dismisses him with a wave of his hand.

“Not wine, per se.” You say, raising your glass, curiously watching it, “I have had a drink of R’hllor’s Blood.” You catch his gaze, the pretty greens of his eyes twinkling in the firelight, “One sip and the whole world disappears into a cloud of smoke. And for the rest of the night you feel as if you are floating. There is no fear. Nor happiness. Simply a forever of tranquility.” You take a wary sip and regret it immediately. It is disgusting, “And then you awake, with no memory of what had happened. Some find it comforting. Others… unsettling. I say it’s better than drinking this.”

“I need me some of that.” Tormund hums, “You have it with you? Now?”

“Only for ritual purposes, I’m afraid.” You say, “And no. Did not think I would need it.”

“You’re a witch, aren’t you?” Podrick asks cautiously. You simply nod, “As in…A real one?”

“Does she look like a fuckin’ ghost to you?” Tormund questions, his voice rough and mirthful.

A small smile slips on your lips, “Not a ghost, I assure you. Though there are plenty of those that roam the Asshai rivers, hide in corners of old temples.”

“Sounds like a scary place.” Podrick comments.

It had never occurred to you, really, the prospect of fright associated with a city drowned in mist. It is always dark there, always gloomy, and even on the brightest days the sun is hazy purple and the clouds are a furious grey. The homes, castles, temples are built from glossy black stone which absorbs any shred of light that might touch it, creating a vacuum. The rivers are clear and ghastly, the waves of the sea crash in sounds of wails of drowned women, and the roads are always empty. From your room, if you were to gaze outside, you could see perhaps a few figures rushing from one place to another, hidden in cloaks and wearing masks. Then again, those might simply be illusions created by the fire.

“…People usually fear what they don’t understand.” You mutter, “Perhaps to foreigners it does sound a bit…odd. Then again, those who do not wish to study magic have no place there.”

“I don’t need fuckin’ magic when I got a sword.” Tormund starts, elated, as if telling a great tale, “One hand an axe, the other a blade. Cut your head off and stab you for good measure.” He winks, “Oh, you should see what’s beyond the wall. Freedom, is what it is. Freedom. Mountains of snow, the world seems fuckin’ endless. We move from place to place, wherefuckin’ever we like, and we don’t have to answer to any lord or lady. Do what we want, when we want. Beyond the wall is a beautiful fuckin’ place.”

“We?” You ask.

“Me and the Wildings. We travel together. We hunt together. You’d end up dead in a day out there alone.” He explains, near boastful, “And what about you? Form any prayer circles with the other ladies?”

“What Tormund is trying to say,” Podrick quickly intervenes, “is if you and the other priestess’s are close. You and the Red Woman seem amiable.” He finishes with a friendly smile, “Pardon us.” He shoots a glance at Tormund, he already opening his mouth, “We’re just curious. Ashai—Am I saying that correctly? - is so far away and…No one knows much of it.”

Close? You suppose that some might think so, but that would be untrue. You know of Cordelia from the Yi Ti(1), a woman with burgundy hair and chilling ice blue eyes. You have spoken to her once during a ritual, and her voice was permanently struck by sorrow, but melodious and pretty. Then there was Sheena from Nefer(2), a tall, inked woman, whose voice was rasp and low, reminding you of gravel crunching under your feet. But you would never consider them as friends, nor foes, simply other women serving the same God but with different purposes.

Then, of course, there is Melisandre, though friendship between you two is also not something that can be placed. She is more of a mentor, an authoritative figure that watches over you, but her loyalties lie and always will lie with the God of Light and Fire. The nature of your profession does not allow for relationships; there must be no ties to the real world. It is only temporary, after all.

“No,” You admit, suddenly struck with deep sadness as your eyes wander around the room, ears ring painfully with laughter. You feel incredibly small, and your shoulders cave with an exhale, “No, we are not…close.”

Tormund’s brows shoot upwards, “So, you mean to tell me, Lady Red, is that you have no fuckin’ friends?”

You look around again, as if only now noticing how tightly knit this group is, how everyone is conversing eagerly, filling themselves silly with drink, shrilling first notes of a song heard long ago.

“I suppose I don’t.” You confess, “No, I do not have any friends, as you call it. The Asshai’i are…not warm people. And we don’t talk a lot. We are but a small population wandering the maze of the city. We rarely meet. Some of us sail and never return. There is no time for…friendships to form.”

“Sounds lonely.” Podrick mutters after a pause, even Tormund not daring to break it. They note your worry struck face, as if they, too, are living this revelation along with you. It is lonely, indeed, but never have you noticed just how much. You should not care for such things. You did not even think of them before this dreaded conversation.

You have never been abroad, Asshai being your only point of reference. You know little of Westerosi customs and Melisandre had offhandedly once said that one learns these things with time, though a certain detachment must always be in place. The Red Priests must be ready to do anything and everything upon their God’s command. Relationships would only get in the way of that philosophy.

Tormund smacks your shoulder crudely, making you flinch and halt your train of dreaded thought. You glance up at him, finding him grinning from ear to ear, “It’s a good thing we found you then, ey? Cause you’d wish you never had friends if you were to talk to those.” He motions with his head vaguely to the Watchmen, his eyes twinkling with mirth. You crack a smile, secretly thankful for his weirdly convivial words.

JON SNOW

The first embers of happiness light up her face, and he eases in his chair, watching wistfully from afar. Jon had wanted to come to her aid once he saw Tormund drag her helplessly, and Podrick fretfully try to make her feel welcomed, even if evidently she did not want to be a part of their small group. He watched as they drank and she listened to their spouting, later engaging in conversation with Tormund which was never a good idea. He is brash, and zestful, and at times humorous, yet she seemed awfully cautious of her words and bearing no real connection to others, and Jon feared she might not understand, or take offense to something the Wildling had said.

His fear had melted when he noticed that she started to smile as she visibly relaxed in their presence. She raises her cup to her lips for the second time and takes a bolder sip. Tormund cheers happily. Jon grins to himself.

“Go talk to her.” Sansa says, startling him. A smile plays in her voice, “I saw you stealing glances at her all evening.”

He clears his throat, “Yeah, I saw you staring, too.”

Sansa shrugs, “She does stand out amongst the crowd. That and she looked properly uncomfortable.”

“That’s just part of Tormund’s charm, I suppose.” He adds, unsure of what to say. She regards him with a bored look. “What?” He asks.

With her head, Sansa motions to Ladybug, “Go.”

“You go.” He says defensive, “You’re…a girl. You probably have more in common with her anyway.”

Sansa almost rolls her eyes, “I doubt it. The only reason she gave me the Wolf was because you told her I liked needlework. I don’t think she did it because she actually enjoys it.” Her pretty eyes wander to the Red Woman, “She did not strike me as a type to enjoy anything, really.” Ladybug’s laugher rings in the hall like a bell, some men turning to her in wonder. “I suppose she is more approachable than the other one.”

“She’s kind,” Jon says, “if not a bit…”

“Tactless?” Sansa finishes for him. He nods sullenly. Her lips quirk upwards into a teasing smile, “See? You two have a lot in common already.”

“I am not tactless.” He retorts.

“Then prove me wrong and go.” She nudges him, “Come on, before your Wildling friend pours her another glass of this awful wine.”

THE RED PRIESTESS FROM ASSHAI

The moon smiles down at you, half in bloom, its radiant light making the Wall glow. Wind howls in your ears, yet the cold air is refreshing after an evening of confinement within a room full of drinking people. The sweet scent of wine fades as the heavy door closes behind you, along with it snippets of laughs and chatter. The whole world grows pleasantly silent; the night is dark and starless.

Again you sense a restless evil which’s fingers reach from over the Wall, its watchful eye observing your small frame from the sky. You feel it – the shrill of the north, the frost collecting on bones, the sinister unease struck by peering into the void – and you pull your robes closer to your body, trying to keep warm, to feel comfort. Despite the eerie mirage in your mind, you feel a sense of familiarity. Darkness. Wisps of cool wind that sounds like whispers. If the structures were made from stone which can hold no reflection, then you would almost be certain you are back home.

Home. You have no home. Your home is wherever the Lord of Light deems it being. But overhearing Lady Stark tell Lord Snow of Winterfell with such conviction and such tenderness, it made you reconsider the meaning of the world entirely.

The door behind you opens and shuts once more, light spilling on the snow under your feet. You sense him before you see him, his aura now too familiar to be mistaken for anyone else. Jon Snow comes to join you by the railing, silent, brooding, following your gaze to the Wall, perhaps wandering what creatures hide behind it. He clears his throat in an attempt to catch your attention, and you tilt your head gently in his direction, “Saw you talking with Tormund.” He starts trying to sound impartial, “He means no harm, I assure you.” His concern comes out a bit awkward, and he avoids your gaze religiously because of it.

You nod timidly, your mind drifting back to the conversation, “I know.” You say softly, your voice carried by the wind, “It was…enlightening.” For a moment he figures you are joking, and snorts, but then he realises you are serious and hurriedly fixes a thoughtful expression, “You are lucky to have him as a friend. He will aid you in future battles.”

“Saw that in the fire?”

“No. It’s just…what friends do.”

A few snowflakes spiral from the sky; they land on your rosy cheek and kiss the skin with their cool touch. A few more spray the ground, your shoulders, tangle in his curly hair. The two of you move closer to one another, or perhaps he moves closer to you or vice versa, but the furs on his shoulder gently brushes yours and you smile lightly. He assumes you are pleased with the pretty sight of a starting storm. He is only partly wrong.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.” You admit.

“It… doesn’t snow in Asshai?” He asks lamely.

You want to tell him that no, it does not, that it only rains ashes and that they are hot and foul smelling, and that they burn your skin. Alas, you settle with, “For R’hllor’s sake, read a book, Jon Snow.”

He coughs a laugh. You smile to yourself. He ushers you inside when the storm picks up.

(1) Yi Ti is said to be the richest kingdom in Essos (2) Nefer is a underground city of necromancers

thank you for reading xoxo

#game of thrones #got #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones x reader #got imagine #jon snow #jon snow x reader #jon snow imagine #sansa stark x reader #Sansa Stark #Tormund #tormund x reader #Podrick Payne #podrick payne x reader #xreader #fanfiction #series #valar dohaeris

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hitodama89 · 4 years ago

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I found a bunch of neat questions meant for Esk characters/community from dA (/originally from Discord) and decided to fill in some of them, skipping the ones I wouldn't have any interesting answers for. I'm sorry in advance if the read more -cut doesn't work, because this will be a loooong one!

“For your esk who in some way or another form words, how do you hear their voice? Accents, age, speaking mannerisms?”

Weary's voice is slow, low and masculine, Elsie's somewhat high, girly and uncertain, Song's happy, chirpy and androgynous in childlike manner, Curse's raspy, hissy and something you could imagine hearing in a bad horror movie, Poe's fast-paced and androgynous until he gets nervous and his pitch starts to rise fast, Nessie's so incredibly low that the voice is more felt rather than heard.

“Is there a particular song (or something related) that you associate with your esk?”

I'm bad at finding fitting songs for my characters, but there are a couple ones:

Elsie: Running by Kállay-Saunders and Fireflies by Technicolour

Song: pretty much every song that sounds anything like these

“What do your esks think of strangers entering their domain?”

Weary follows them warily from a distance, Elsie is afraid of them, Song tries to make friends with them, Curse tries to scare them away or even harm them, Poe wants to interact with them but often is too timid to do so, Nessie doesn't care or is amused by them.

“One of the things mentioned on the guide is that esks tend to have a habitual way of affecting their environment. How do your esks shape, influence, or damage the world around them?”

Weary has tried to keep its environment clean (in the expense of its own wellbeing), Elsie makes things like rock arrangements around her haunt pond, Song collects trinkets to their home, Curse protects all felines in its territory, Poe makes notes like arrows and symbols in the ground, Nessie has inspired a lot of legends among the humans that live close by.

“Gender is largely not something an esk thinks about a lot or has to worry about in their daily life, but if your esk has any opinions on how they present/gender views how do they feel about it, and would they be accepting of any revelations time might bring?”

All of my Esk could be called agender, but some of them are that more firmly than others. Poe and Elsie are the only ones who feel drawn to the concept of genders enough to use gendered pronouns, but even they wouldn't really straight-out call themselves male or female; the pronouns are more like a remnant of their past lives that they don't want to let go of. Then there's Weary, who seems pretty masculine by its appearance, voice and demeanor, but its conscious mind doesn't care about such matters at all. (But maybe in some level it does associate itself with masculinity, as I'd assume Esk's mind does affect the form they take when they are transformed.) And the rest of the gang, Song, Curse and Nessie, are completely agender in every way. Gender has never been important to any of them and likely never will.

(As a side note: the reason why all of them are more or less agender is because I myself don't understand genders all that well and I find the idea of gender not really mattering for eternal ghosts pretty comforting.)

“Who are your Esk's friends, why do they hang out with them/ Where? Why are they important to that characters development”

All of my Esk are tangled into each others' lives in some ways. Elsie was tranformed by Weary and their lives have since gone very much hand in hand. Song and Poe were both transformed by Nessie and all of them are friends with each other, even if they don't hang out with each other all the time. Curse is the only one who is still somewhat of an outlier, but even it is already aquinted with Poe so I'm sure it'll get to hang around with the rest of the gang eventually (even if it likely doesn't want to, hahah).

I've tried to build relationships to other people's Esk as well, but so far those haven't gone further than one or two pictures of them hanging with each other. I know it's mostly because I'm intimidated by the group's Discord and don't hang around there plotting stuff together with people, but what can I do.

“What if your esk suddenly reverted back to their original form? How would they feel? How would it affect their surroundings? What would they do? Do they blend in with the current period, or is there a woolly mammoth in town square now”

Oof, that would be a bit nasty experience for most of them! Nessie as a Plesiosaurus would be the only one outwardly completely out of place, but none of the others would be having good time either. Curse would hate being just a regular small cat again, without powers to torment those who it bears grudge towards. Weary and Poe could technically continue living their lives as humans, as they were both adults when they were transformed, but Song and Elsie were just kids during that so blending in to society would be likely pretty difficult for them, as they wouldn't be able to live on their own just like that.

“If your esk was a human, what time period did they live in and how did this effect their design? Are they strong? Cowardly?”

Out of all of my Esk Weary, Elsie, Song and Poe were humans before their transformations. Amusingly oldest of them is Song who went missing during 1940s. After that comes Poe, transformed in 1970s, then Weary who became Esk somewhere around 2010 or so and finally Elsie, who canonically has been an Esk for a year or two by now. I don't feel like the time periods really affected the designs of their Esk forms, as I've mostly created their Esk designs first and only then built their characteristics around that.

“Does your esk have a unique communication tic, verbal or otherwise? Must they begin or end all their sentences with specific words or phrases, or is the mental imagery they project always tinted with something or features something unnatural?”

I'm not really sure what counts as a "tic" in this sense, but they all definitely have their quirks. Weary doesn't really see Esk as living creatures and talks about all of them as "it", Elsie stutters easily by repeating letters and syllables, Song tends to have difficulty separating facts from fiction and telling completely made-up stories as if they had happened to them for real, Poe rambles a lot and stutters by repeating whole words, Curse stretches S-letters like it was hissing and Nessie mostly communicates by sharing visions and feelings through telepathy instead of words.

“Why does your esk look the way they do? do they resemble their past species? does something in their manifestation reflect their state of mind, or ironically contrast with it? is their nature feature significant to their story? did they go through form changes and if so, why?”

The meta answer of course is that they all look they way they do because that's what I wanted, hahah. But all of their appearances do have some correlations with their stories, too: Weary was climbing to a mangrove tree in order to escape from a crocodile that attacked it before it got transformed. Elsie's link is more mental than physical: she was a scrawny kid stuck in a devastating home situation and she spent a lot of time dreaming of the day she'd be a gorgeous adult woman who would have the power to leave all of that behind, so she turned into a graceful, lithe Esk. Song's father was a sponge diver and human-Song was looking for the sponges that had been killed by a deadly algae bloom when they got lost. The white spots on Curse are the same ones that got burned by mean kids when it was still a helpless cat. Poe got his heart broken by his friends so as an Esk he manifested an Enchantment called Guarded heart. Nessie was, well, a Plesiosaurus.

“What are your esks relationships and/or opinions of the wanderers of their biomes?”

Weary is intriqued by Seventh, Elsie fears Seventh like crazy, Nessie is good friends with Makoa. Rest of them don't know much if anything about their respective Wanderers.

“How do your Esk relate to their familiars and what made them manifest in the first place?”

I haven't mostly given much reasons for why my Esk sometimes manifest new features; it's just something that happens over time. For Elsie her fireflies are with her almost all the time and she tends to feel really lonely without them. (Btw I draw them usually as just simple glowy dots, but I always put at least some thought into their placement and what they are actually doing in the picture!) On the other hand the betta fish she only manifests in her Haunt is more like a pet to her rather than an extension of her own spirit and she likes to spent time watching it do its fishy things. Song doesn't really think of their sponges as anything more or less than what they are: immobile simple creatures that are part of the Esk, much like their nature features. Then there's Curse and its ghostly cats. They are very strictly under Curses (uncoscious?) command, going to places where the Esk wants to go and tormenting those it wishes to harm.

“What object from your esks past resonates with them the most? Up to date what object do they now have a connection with? Does it have a connection to the past, present, or future?”

Quite morbidly the only keepsakes from Weary's past it has kept around are its own human bones that lie in the heart of its Haunt. Elsie on the other hand incorporated the feathers that were attached to her backback into her Esk form, so they must've been quite special to her. (In the process the feathers of course turned from physical ones to incorporeal.) Song doesn't have any items from their past life, but unlike my other Esk they have gathered a ton of trinkets during their adventures as an Esk and they treasure them all dearly. Poe's dearest possession is a notebook he got during a mysterious quest: he is sure it's connected to his past somehow, but he hasn't yet figured out how exactly. Curse and Nessie don't really have important items, worldly or otherwise.

“When your picking an esk's boundary and biome do what makes you drawn to that location? Do you like spreading your esks around the globe? keeping them close to home? Or putting them in one area so they can interact?”

All of my Esk (except Nessie who is an Abnormal and can move around freely) live in Everglades because I want them to be able to interact with each other naturally. I don't really remember why I originally settled on Everglades specifically: Weary's, my starter Esk's, boundary is mangrove swamp, but I of course could've picked a different swamp or even an imaginary one if I would've wanted to. I guess it was just the easiest to settle on a real-life location because I'd need to be googling a lot of stuff related to the vegetation and such of the habitat anyway, and maybe Everglades was the first mangrove swamp I could remember by name from the top of my head? I have never been in Everglades as I don't live even in the USA, but amusingly I've learned enough about it that I once even recognized its shoreline from a map I encountered randomly on the internet.

“Whats the meaning behind your esk(s) name? Do they have any nicknames or things that were called behind their back? when naming your esks do you stick to human names or things in nature? How did your esk find their name?”

All of my Esk have longer full names and a shorter nicknames that I mainly use while talking about them out of convenience. Weary's full name is The Weary Eyed One. It's just a descriptor that other Esk have used when talking about it for long enough to be turned into an actual name, but canonically Weary can also introduce itself as Tired or Sleepy or anything along those lines; it doesn't really feel the need to settle on any one real, permanent name. Elsie's name is Someone Else and it was made up by Weary after it had transformed her. Elsie doesn't actually like the name but she adores Weary too much to say it out loud, but when encountering new Esk without Weary's presence she tends to call herself just Elsie, as it sounds more like a human name to her. Song of the Abyss named themselves after deciding to dedicate their afterlife to exploring all the corners of the world's oceans. It also tells something about their relationship with life and environment, as when they say that they are "a song" they mean it literally: they aren't a singer, but the actual voice of the ocean, in a way part of the ocean itself. (I have never been able to put into words what I mean by this an a truly satisfactory way...) Curse's full name is Cat's Curse and it was given to the urban legends inspired by its haunting by humans. Poe's name Just Poe comes from his habit of introducing himself humbly as "just Poe"; irl it comes from the fact that I had trouble figuring out a full name for him and I asked in my mind if "I could really call him just Poe?" And then there's Xilladenanessfeali, whose name is supposed to evoke the feeling of language being something very different back in the day millions of years ago when they were named.

The names of my Esk tend to be quite wild because I find the idea of naming them with human-like names extremely boring; intead I wanted the names to hint at how different an Esk's existence and sense of self must be compared to that of humans or animals.

“What do you imagine would have happened to your esk if they were never transformed?”

(First of all a depressive text warning; in all of my Esk stories getting transformed was a salvation for them, so their lives without it would've been pretty miserable.) Weary woud've died either from the crocodile bite or the unnamed illness they had pretty soon. Elsie would've lived to become a timid, depressed adult who would've wasted her life away by not having the courage to shape her life into what she would've truly wanted. Song would've likely drowned, but if they had drifted to shore in time instead they would've been eventually returned to home and continued their life pretty peacefully albeit, sadly for them, away from ocean. Curse would've died slowly from the burn wounds it had sufffered. Poe would've either ended his own life (that was his plan) or lived on to become a "suffering artist" who never had much money or security in his life but at least lived doing what he loved. Nessie would've soon died piecefully of old age.

“What are your esks thoughts on transforming or retransforming? Blessing? Curse? Creative endeavor? Instinct?”

For Weary and Nessie it has been a mix of an instinct and doing what feels right for them. For Elsie it seems like a scarily huge responsibility that she isn't ready for yet. Other's haven't yet have a need to ponder on the subject that deeply.

“do your esks time travel? if so where do they go and what to they spend their time doing? do they do transformations in the past or would they rather not? When visiting the past have your esk ever thought about trying to see their past self's?”

Honestly I haven't have them do any time traveling (aside from that one quest) because that proposes so many questions I haven't yet been able to answer in my mind thoroughly enough. =') Like what are the actual rules I'd follow, where to draw the line in some difficult subjects and how the heck to even keep track of it all! For example what exactly prevents them from going to meet themselves in the past and what can and cannot they affect. Like... What if Elsie decided to go into the past and turn her abusive father into an Esk when she herself was just a baby - how the heck would all that work?!

“If your esk's boundary overlaps multiple biomes, what was the reason your esk resonated with one biome over the other?”

The reason is, a little bit boringly, that I've mainly used the biomes I myself am most drawn towards. Weary, Elsie, Song and Nessie are all in water-related biomes while Curse is in Developed and Poe is in Plains. Poe came with a pre-determined boundary which mostly dictated where he was going to be in, while with Curse the other option would've likely been Forest and I just feel like a feral cat belongs more to the Developed environment.

“How does your esk interact with rain/weather? Does it pass through them? Do they let it get them wet? Does it create steam on contact?”

I have drawn them being physically affected by weather because that's more visually fun than having the rain and stuff go through them. Which actually gave me a really neat art idea just now, hmmh...

“What is your esk filled with, internally?”

I am not sure. They do not have internal organs, that's for sure, but other than that I haven't completely made up my mind about that. The roots of Weary's trees as well as part of its transformation crystals do go inside the Esk's body, but other than that it's either empiness, maybe black goo or something completely else. I've also made a point to never draw my Esk crying tears, because I feel like them secreting such substances would hint at them just having normal internal organs which they in my mind do not have.

“How do you like to write about/picture esk transformations in your mind?”

Outwardly I think it looks like the transformee is shining a bright light until their body has either been shaped into a new form or their soul has been sucked out of the body and turned into an Esk (which one happens depends on who is doing the transformation). Although I don't think I have ever illustrated this? All of the transformation art I've done has depicted more of how the transofrmation has felt rather than the physical appearance of it.

“who was your nursery esk and why did you choose their ID? For those who didnt get a nursery esk, who was your first esk and why did you choose to acquire them/what do you like about them?”

Weary my beloved! <3 Back then there were much more people interested in getting their first Esk than there ever were available nursery IDs, so you couldn't really think too much about what ID you were going to grab. Which is why I still to this day don't understand how I managed to get an Esk so fitting for myself! Weary was (and is) everything I ever wanted from my first Esk!

“What is your single, favorite Witherings Esk of all time if you had to pick only one, and why that Esk in particular?”

I have a huge soft spot for the Original Esk, I adore Seventh so much and I of course love Poe to bits, but aside from those here's my top 4 in a numerical order because I can't place any of them above each other:

177 208 507 742

I can't really tell why I like them so much; it's just about that very subjective sense of beauty I guess.

“hey guys what’s your favorite masterlist number of the esk you own?”

I love most of them, but Song's 1101 must be my favorite. That's just such a nice looking number!

“Who wants to share their early twwm experience? Whether it's when you joined or how you learned about it or someone nice you met right off or the first esk you ever saw!”

Hoo boy, me and Esk go way back! I even made a quick reference doodle of the Original Esk like 10 years before the times of the ARPG. (Back then I used to always make them before drawing the creatures traditionally, although I don't think I ever actually drew anything else featuring the Esk in the end.) To the actual group I managed to somehow find my way into when it was still in beta and I joined pretty much instantly, which is very much out of character for me. I just loved the species so dang much! And I still do of course.

“whats everyones favorite morph?”

It's a tie between Ocean and Seafloor morphs.

“What are some TWWM works that blew you away and challenged your notions of what art made about funny little plant ghosts can do?”

All the video games, interactive stories, music videos and longer animations! Those are always just so awe-inspiring and they make that imaginary world seem so incredibly alive!

#long post #twwm #those who went missing #Weary #Elsie #Song #Curse #Poe #Nessie #am I trying to distract myself from the fact that my preordered New Pokémon Snap didn't arrive on time?#oh yes I am

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moonsandstar-s · 7 years ago

Text

the fled & the fallen

pov; ilia amitola.

Ao3.

“It's already unfortunate enough that she's stuck with the drudgery of spying on the girl who used to be her only confidante in the White Fang, but Ilia is convinced that if she puts her past with Blake on one side of the impending war in Remnant, and her own future on the other, the collateral damage will wreck more than Menagerie when it comes rushing through to destroy them both.It's easy enough to fight a battle when your enemy is a stranger. But weapons become betrayals when the eyes that look back at you from the end of the blade are the eyes you once trusted more than the rise and fall of the sun.

If there’s a way to punch someone through a Scroll, Ilia is determined to figure out how, because Corsac has been rambling on about her botched missions for a good hour now, and she won’t be surprised if her ear falls to the ground due to his motormouth. “Are you listening to me, Sister Amitola?” Corsac snaps. “With a significant amount of regret, I can assure you.” “Dearest Amitola, please try to show your enthusiasm a little less strongly. You’re due at Master Taurus’ presence within the hour. Seeing as his patience wears thin, I would advise you to be punctual. There is no predicting the consequences should you dash through the bit of restraint he still exercises. Today is not a good day for him.” “I’m aware, Brother Albain. There never is a good one while the world doesn’t bow to his every whim, but I'm pretty sure I can handle whatever mood he decides to exemplify tonight.”

“If you pull that tone with him, I would not be surprised to find you crawling out to your next spying mission with your fingers missing,” Corsac responds with evident relish, before a buzzing click indicates their connection has cut off. Ilia pockets her borrowed Scroll with a scowl. It’s a horrible one, even less reliable than the shifting tide against Menagerie’s crowded shore. But her former Scroll is in Blake’s possession now—the best weapon she has against the White Fang, and not a very good one, at that. Shelving thoughts of the Scroll, Ilia examines her nails, shifts to readjust against the unforgiving trellises of bramble vines that seek out the tender spots of her exposed skin like moths flocking to an open flame, and curses every god she knows as she stares up at the manor of Menagerie’s master. She’s been out here spying on the place too long to be safe. Ghira, Kali, and that stupid monkey boy with the shirt fluttering in the open breeze—who she had been certain had sustained a fatal wound by her hand, but she must have missed, because she didn’t even see a scratch on his chest as he strode the front door like he owned the place—disappeared into the house a while ago. She’s not frightened because it’s, you know, Ghira’s palace and all—she’s no more timid of his presence than she would be of a mouse. Behind the façade of mountainous bulk, the shimmering armor plates of wrought steel and the permanent scowl etched into his rawboned face, he’s a soft man, the kind who steps down from his position when the army he’s commanding has grown too horrendous for him to direct with a clean conscience. He’s a man only fit for false power. She’s known him as the leader of the White Fang and then the deserter and now the chief of a parody island, rampant with racism in the fact of its own existence. How any Faunus can live in Menagerie and be content is beyond here. Every step she takes here is a reminder of her status in the world. She’ll never be equal in this place. It’s not a palace, it’s a prison cell. Anyways, it doesn’t matter. She’s not here for Ghira. Or to seethe over the life she leads, how she’s sitting here in the empty damp of the night forest and not in the warmth of the manors that she grew up in, trading lies for comfort. She’s here for Blake Belladonna—but Blake isn’t anywhere to be seen and Ilia’s miserably, miserably freezing and just wants to sit by a blazing fire with a bowl of something that doesn’t taste like char in her mouth and a tomorrow that doesn’t look so horribly bleak. Right now, she’s running up a loss on all the things she craves. If Blake really is here, she must have slipped into the house while Ilia’s eyes were turned away. She hasn’t seen hide nor hair of her ex-friend’s figure, and part of her is grateful for it. The sight of her is only a painful one nowadays. She’s taking so many stupid risks in Blake’s name. First, letting her get away on the rooftop a month past. Letting her escape with the Scroll, filled to the brim with information that could destroy this uneasy ceasefire lingering in the air right now, and aiming to kill that boy with her with an electric strike to his chest, how he so callously struck at her with a thousand festering memories of the schoolgirls who taunted her heritage. Fennec and Corsac know of her uncertain loyalties and despite being the stupid mice that they are, they won’t hesitate to hand over her crimes of betrayal and take their reprieve while she takes Adam’s fury. Ilia sees light flicker within the screen doors of the house, a long shadow falling through the thin paper, and she rises from the hollow in the damp grass. The constellations swim against a coalsmoke-black sky, throwing down just enough incandescence for her to see the trunk of a brindled tree. She swings herself up the northern side, off of the patches of lichen, slithering through a net of boughs before she pauses to wait on a branch that overhangs the balcony. Where Blake will doubtlessly come to stare out at Menagerie and brood over what she’s done and what is left to do, and, Ilia thinks with a selfish pain, to grapple with the stinging regret of her betrayal. They both know the White Fang has mutated far beyond its original purpose. It’s a hydra with a thousand slavering jaws, and because of this monstrosity, it has traveled fathoms away from redemption. But regardless of the environment that molded their futures—Ilia and Blake used to be closer than family. Closer than blood. And Blake fled without breathing a word of warning to her. She will never forgive her for running. As if on cue, the screen door creaks, and a familiar figure emerges, exchanging a few muted words with the slouching guard. Looking relieved to be able to head inside from the frigid claws of the night and thaw out in Menagerie’s grandest house, the opulent haven of Kuo Kuana, the guard nods to Blake before hopping back into the light and sliding the door shut behind her. The only light that illuminates her figure is the shrouded moon and the distant city lights, turning her hair to a fall of shimmering silver, her eyes a blank gray. It’s not hard to guess her reasons for being out here. Blake is a creature of habit. When she’s met with an obstacle, she seeks silence. “You really need better security,” Ilia says into the quiet, and drops from the tree. The balcony rail creaks under her weight before settling. Her expression betraying surprise before it freezes into fury, Blake stares at her, hand flying towards Gambol Shroud too fast for Ilia’s eyes to follow. Regardless, she isn’t thrown off-guard by the pure and acidic hatred seething in Blake’s eyes, the orange a shimmering overcast of flaring fire like the northern lights. Ilia’s never seen that disgust directed at anyone but Adam, and it agitates her to think that Blake has finally detached from her roots enough to despise them. “Stop,” Ilia tells her. Unnecessarily, of course, because Blake is too much of a sentimentalist to follow through with a blow that would truly hurt her. “I just need to talk.” Blake’s hand stills. Her voice is another unseen shadow gliding through the dark. “How could you take the fall for them, Ilia?” “Blake—” “Be quiet.” Her ears flatten atop her skull, and she launches right into the tirade Ilia can see bubbling on her lips without pausing to consider the words before they’re out. “Corsac and Fennec blamed you! We confronted them tonight, and they denied knowing anything and everything we found on your Scroll—they, they talked about how—how disappointed they were to hear that you’d sided with Adam.” She’s winding herself into a frenzy, voice overwrought with a hypnotizing mixture of anguish and loathing. “But you and I both know they’re guilty, you know it. They deserve the shot, but you’re taking the bullet. How could you do that? For those cowards!” Between the narrow slats of her mask, Ilia glares out at her former friend. How is she here? What ensnares her? Blake’s matchbox smile that rings so many chords within her that she’s never been able to properly replicate in other harmonies she’s tried to design? The way she breathes, moves, lives? She could simply just run, take a page out of Blake’s book, and leave her to suffer the consequences. But all she manages to say is, “You can’t prove anything.” Blake doesn’t look convinced. “Right. That Scroll might not have been enough to lock them up. But it’s plenty to sway the Faunus here. When we go public tomorrow, they’re not going to stand for any of it.” She exhales heavily. “And neither should you.” Does she truly not see what’s going to happen if she does this? This plan is never going to turn out as she likes. You can’t predict a crowd’s reaction, even less a crowd who is well used to cruelty and horrid betrayals. They’re not going to believe that another one is on its way—that the bloodiest war they’ve ever seen is looming just on the horizon. Blake will be ostracized, even more than before. She’s about to strike a blow in favor of Adam, and she doesn’t even know it. “Blake, it’s not going to work,” Ilia replies, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice. “Please—just leave Menagerie before it’s too late. You mustn’t—” “I’m not playing into your game,” Blake snaps, turning away, always turning away, before she strides into the gathering shadows, “and as for leaving here, you must think I’m dense to listen to you—you’ll have to drag me out kicking and screaming.” “I know,” Ilia murmurs to her back, and the trouble is that she does know. The problem is that, while Blake is an idealist, she’s not the kind that most people are. Most maintain a false dream that crumbles like the first ice of winter, when met with tribulation. Most people are idealists until it is inconvenient to be one any longer. Not so with Blake. She could stare reality’s bleakest features right in the eye and still not lose a shard of faith in her distant goal. She was, and is, the type that can start a war and end it on her own terms. Blake is a hurricane waiting to happen. Put under the right conditions, and her destruction is unpredictable, uncontainable. And it is this trait that makes Adam so desperate to obtain her light—to hold it in his hands and twist it into blackened cruelty to suit his own means before he crushes it underfoot. If it comes to an out-and-out war between the two of them, Ilia hasn’t a godsdamned clue who will come out on top. It takes more than brute strength to snatch victory from the jaws of a revolution. If Blake wasn’t such a huge threat, Ilia would have already put a bullet through her temple. She would be expendable—she used to be expendable, back when she was just Blake, the poor Faunus girl whose parents were the ex-leaders of the Fang, who was an orphan by choice, who was Adam’s shadow and inferior in every way. But she’s swiftly becoming more than what she used to be, the troublesome pest nagging the White Fang with her stupid human team, to boot—and turning into an armed hunter with arrows and guns, intent on tracking it down and ripping out its throat. She’s not going for the brain of the White Fang, Sienna Khan and all of her chilly majesty, but rather, she’s intent on snuffing out Adam’s life: the soul of the White Fang, a bloodied and ruined wreck. He’s cold as clay, born with the analytical brain and the human capacity for cruelty—something that the Faunus and their counterparts share—but he’s conspicuously lacking in the characteristic that Ilia believes sets apart men from monsters. Mercy. The word is probably foreign to him. “If that’s what it takes, if I must remove you from Menagerie without your willingness—” “I can’t leave Menagerie, Ilia,” Blake repeats, staring at her hand, curling it into a fist. “I won’t. You don’t understand. This is the last safe haven I have.” Ilia hisses between her teeth. “Stop being such a fool, Blake. You’re in more danger here than anywhere else, and if you fled to somewhere safer, like Mistral—” “I can’t leave Menagerie!” Blake snarls, whirling on her. “It’s not that Vale is plagued with Grimm or the other kingdoms are locked up with embargoes and restrictions. None of those would stop me, and they couldn’t hope to stop Adam. This island is the farthest from all lands in Remnant. It’s the last isle where safety is more than a frail chance.” “I know you by many names, Belladonna,” Ilia snaps right back, “coward, and traitor, and warrior—but never by one that says you care more for your own safety than your misguided fight for the Faunus here.” Blake laughs, a harsh, mocking sound like a wolf’s guttural growl. “It’s not for my own safety I’m exiling myself. I wouldn't expect you to understand reasons that don’t stink of selfishness.” Ilia lowers herself, palms against the splintery wood, feet dangling into the open air. It’s a vulnerable position, one that will cost her valuable seconds if Blake tries to attack her. “Then help me understand. Whose safety could possibly cause you to impose ostracizing yourself in this mockery of a civilization?” “People who I cannot name,” Blake says, “because you embody a portion of the danger that threatens them. But they exist. And my presence would only bring them more grief than it already has. Seclusion is the only option left.” She scrubs a hand over her tired face, lines creasing her brows. “Gods. I shouldn’t be telling you any of this. Not after what you’ve done.” “I won’t breathe a word of it to Sienna Khan, or the Albain brothers—” Blake’s expression shifts to something sharper, more alert, like a cat’s ears pricking, eyes going to slitted pupils. “And Adam? What will you say to him?” “Hardly a word that you have. Not that I expect you to believe me.” Blake eyes her suspiciously. “You want my good faith? In your words? Then be honest, Ilia. For once. Let the truth pass through your lips instead of forgery. What comes next if I refuse to leave Menagerie?” “You aren’t going to leave this cage of an island, you say,” Ilia whispers into the sighing night. “But you cannot hide from war, Blake. It will find you, by the bullets and by blood. And if I have to be the one who drags you into the crossfire, I will do it.” Blake sits on a fancy chair, crossing her legs across the seat like a child, but the expression on her face is watchful, burdened. Not the face of the child she once was. The child Ilia knew so well. “Well, that’s one way to be honest, isn’t it? I suppose a threat can be synonymous with truth.” “You want what’s real,” Ilia replies. “I can’t make it more honest than that, Blake. If you insist on making an enemy of the White Fang, they won’t let you walk away alive. And if you insist on making an enemy of me, I can’t give you a kinder promise of tomorrow’s contents.” “No,” Blake whispers. “You can’t.” Ilia doesn’t know what makes her say it—it sounds too much like a reprieve to be forgivable, to align with the façade of controlled cruelty she’s so carefully been portraying—but it’s out before she can stop it. “Let me ask you one question. Before I have to go.” “Back to the White Fang?” She laughs soundlessly. “One question. And the potential for infinite harm. What else do you want that you haven’t already made perfectly clear?” “Why did you leave Adam?” Blake’s chin snaps up, her eyes darkened with shadows of exhaustion, but they’re furious, blurred with livid tears. “What?” Ilia hastens to add, “I know he is not kind. I know his ideas are wrong. But for you to flee instead of remaining on his side to soften his temper, to exert your influence where it could be the most effective—” “I know you’ve been spying on me for ages, Ilia,” Blake interrupts flatly. “I wouldn’t doubt if I looked back in memory and saw your eyes gazing out from every concealed shadow, reporting my every move back to Adam. It’s how he knew where to find me the night everything changed. It’s how he knew all the right words to say to get me right where he wanted me. But tell me, were you watching at the Fall?” “Of course I was watching. I had no choice.” Shame heats her ears like a searing summer sun, touches a hot hand to her cheeks. She can feel herself turning from gentle brown to an agitated crimson, color spilling across her skin like lava, spots flushing across her forearms. “But I didn’t involve myself in the battles. I shed no blood that night. There was already enough of it spilling over the cobblestones. But I was there. I saw the knights, the corpses of the children, the White Fang running through the rubble… kings at last, the conquerors of a land that had no subjects left to subjugate.” “Solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant,” Blake says softly. “They make a desert and call it peace. Why do you think I left him—and all of the Fang, for that matter? Our world should not be a desert where the Faunus struggle to survive on humanity’s remnants. Nor should it be a false paradise where Faunus are confined to a single, tiny island, and the humans struggle to survive in four other kingdoms while we’re holed up in a monotonous isle. I’m fighting for the middle—where we fight together—and yet you blindly still insist that the extreme is the only option that’s feasible, that’s right.” “Adam wouldn’t have stabbed you if you had stayed,” Ilia snaps. “None of what befell both of us would have happened if you hadn’t run away! That girl wouldn’t have gotten mutilated like she did if she hadn’t crossed into his path to save you. I’ve tried, Blake, but don’t you understand? You say I’ve taken the fall for the Albain brothers, yet if you stay in Menagerie, it will happen to you again and again. First I took the fall for you when you fled the Fang, and then the girl with the gold hair fell to Adam, and then the Faunus boy to me—” Blake’s smile is faint, but it sends a chill through Ilia’s blood. There is something twisted about it, like a person encased in ice. “You claim that you’ve taken a heavy loss? But you’re standing in front of me. Sun is on his feet. Ready to fight the Fang as earnestly as it should be. And Yang—” Ilia sees a crack in that carefully perceived expression, a thawing of that controlled ice. “If I ever knew her at all, she will have risen again. Hating me, hating Adam… but she will not have fallen forever. You don’t understand the logic behind the running, Ilia, and you never will. There are things you do to survive, things you will never forgive yourself for, things that will keep you staring awake with only taunting thoughts for company, things that you cannot bear but you must bear anyways because the alternative, to give up, is too horrible to contemplate.” She turns away, head bowed. “Life is merciless. Adam took a page out of its book. But we all have to keep our heads high and sustain hope because no matter what we are, human or Faunus, young or old, cruel or kind… we cannot bear the unknown.”

“Blake—” “Get out of here, Ilia,” Blake spits. “Hide in the trees, or watch from the shadows, but stay there. Let the shadows rule you all your life instead of finding your way out of them. Don’t imagine that I forget who I was, or who you were, or who we were to each other. I don’t hate you because I know we’ve both been scarred by the life we led together, and that experience is something that turned me into one person while it turned you into another.” Blake stands only a few feet away, her feet spread apart, planted firm on the ground. The wind tosses her hair into the gust, like a live thing, a black scattering of feathers. “Despite your lack of reserves, despite the fact that you might do it without a second breath—I cannot raise a hand to hurt you, Ilia. I will not. But if it is you on one side of this war and me on the other, don’t expect me to relent. Don’t expect mercy from me when you refused to ever show me the same.” Ilia rises, the wood bowing beneath her feet, and casts a glance back. Blake cuts a peculiar figure against the night. She’s a hurricane, the war waiting to be declared—but she’s distant now, a stranger still. Ilia isn’t sure what the future holds for the both of them, but she doesn’t like the prospect of it. “I’ll see you on the lands outside of this island, Blake,” Ilia says softly. “And you had better pray to your gods that mercy does not make a fool of you when it comes.” She steps out over the edge and lets herself drop down into the gullet of the shadows, into the whispering rush of the night, into nothing at all, with only her past above and a bleaker tomorrow below.

#Blake Belladonna #Ilia Amitola #RWBY #RWBY V5 #RWBY Volume 5 #Adam Taurus #Corsac Albain #my writing

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theyareskewed · 8 years ago

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Chapter Two

Disclaimer: Mason’s character name has been changed to Major because I’ve finally found a nickname that is even somewhat reasonable.

Chapter Two is finally here! Hopefully this introduces everyone to the inner workings of a group like this, and continues to build on character relations! Lemme know what you think through the Ask box, and don’t be afraid to send in asks for Fact Check or simply for your curiosity!

Razz woke with the dawn. The moment that the sun began to light up the street, her blue-green eyes were open and searching around for danger. It took her a few moments to remember what exactly had happened the night before, and she gave a small sigh of relief when she looked to her left and Gwen was still slumped against Major, her breath slowly stirring the air. She turned her eyes back to the street, noticing the few others who were awake. Dusk was sitting up, his dark hazel eyes staring absently down the street, and Lore was holding as still as possible so as not to disturb the girl asleep on her legs. Sin was awake as well, but those were all of the people she knew the names of that were alert, and she lost interest. She leaned forwards and pulled her backpack off, swinging it into her lap and unzipping it. Once it was open, she began to rummage through it. She knew the rough gist of what she had, and the exact numbers of the most important things. Most important things being the food she needed to survive. She grinned when she uncovered a can of mandarin oranges. They were the perfect breakfast, especially sweet for someone who had been eating canned everything for such a long time. She cracked it open, wiping her hands on her pant leg before poking her fingers in carefully. Like that she ate her breakfast, chewing slowly and trying to savor the taste. This was all she would eat until late that night, she had to preserve rations. There was really nothing to do until more people woke up, so Razz let herself zone out and tried to relax, staring out at nothing in particular. It was only about an hour until the majority of the group was awake and moving about, and Razz did her best to ignore them. She was uncomfortable with so many people around and played with the strings on her hoodie as a distraction. It was not long after that Gwen woke up, and she turned to Razz almost immediately. “Morning, sis,” she said happily. “Morning,” Razz said quietly, turning her eyes to Gwen after a moment of hesitation. The slightly taller twin squealed and dove at Razz from her sitting position, wrapping her arms around her. Razz spluttered, trying to restrain a laugh as she wiggled in her twins grip. “Oh cut it out!” she laughed, “I’m alive, alright! Let go!” Gwen cackled, letting Razz go and leaning back onto her palms. “You’re a dork,” she teased her. “Oh I know,” Razz said evenly, “and we share the same genetics so you are too.” Gwen smirked, and then perked up. She hopped onto her feet, holding out a hand. “Come on, let’s go get breakfast!” “I’ve already eaten,” said Razz quizzically, holding out her hand, “What do you mean by ‘go get’? Don’t you carry your own rations?” “Oh god no,” Gwen said with what was mostly a false disgust, still pulling Razz to her feet, “that shit’s heavy! We only carry what we need to, each group is in charge of something else!” “Groups?” “I’ll introduce you in a bit, but I’m starving. Stay here, I’ll be right back.” Razz watched her twin jog away, towards where a small group was gathering. She shrugged slightly and turned her gaze downwards to where Major was sitting. She had been under the impression that he was still asleep, but his eyes were open, and he was fiddling with something in his hands. “What’re you messing with?” she asked, glancing over at him again. “Nothing important,” he said with a small sigh, tucking the item back into a pocket. She decided not to push it and turned away. It was then that she noticed that her ponytail had slipped in the night, and was now a messy bunch that hung at the base of her skull. She reached back and pulled the ponytail off, leaning forwards to collect the hair again. She redid the ponytail with practiced ease, and when she looked up again Gwen was coming over to her with a small group of people following. As though Major could sense her sudden nervousness at the sight of the approaching people, he spoke up. “Just be calm. They’re the other leaders, all harmless.” Razz glanced at him, still uncertain, but she allowed her muscles to relax some, though she was still on high alert. Gwen walked all the way to Razz’s side, though the rest of the group she had brought halted a few feet away from them both. Razz recognized Ray from the night before. It struck her as odd that the timid girl was the leader of something, but she didn’t voice her confusion. “Razz,” Gwen said proudly, “These are the leaders of the different jobs that are used to keep us safe. I want to introduce you to them.” Razz glanced at Gwen but then focused back on the others. “Alright,” she said calmly, “Introduce me then.” “Well, if you’re going to fit in here, you need to know what the groups are and why they’re here. Our little group functions like a clock, with each cog turning to make the main mechanism tick. Each of these groups is a cog, and we need to figure out where you fit. I figured that I would let the leaders explain the basics of their job for you,” Gwen said evenly, with a smile on her face, “So, leaders, who wants to go first?” “Do we get to leave after we’ve spoken,” asked an extremely dull voice from near the back of the group. Gwen took a slow, deep breath, visibly irritated already. “Sure,” she said coolly. “Perfect.” A dark brunette girl shoved her way to the front of the group, tall and slim, with a glare like none other. “My name is Chrysoberyl,” she said with just as much distaste as Gwen had displayed held in her tone, “and I lead the Weapon’s Cache.” Razz did not have a good feeling about her likelihood to enjoy Chrysoberyl’s company. “The Weapon’s Cache is in charge of the deployment, repair, and upkeep of all of the weapons this group has to offer.” Her face was filled with cockiness as if she thought herself better than everyone around her, “and we are not to be trifled with. Thank you for your time.” Razz watched her stalk away and gave a small giggle. “Good heavens,” she said quietly to her twin, “Who uses the phrase ‘trifled with’ anyway?” Gwen snorted and tried to hold back the smirk that was curling onto her lips at her twin’s comment. “Next,” she called out, her voice holding back laughter. A small, stout, angry looking girl was the next to step forwards to the front of the group. “You can call me Dee, and I am the commander of the guards. You can guess what we do from the title.” Razz snorted. “What’re you, like ten?” “I’m thirteen,” Dee responded, without an ounce of humor in her voice, “and I could kick your ass blindfolded with my hands tied behind my back. Watch your tone.” Razz didn’t know if she should laugh or be intimidated. Dee seemed to realize this, and she sneered. “You’re gonna learn some shit when you’re in my training session,” she said tonelessly before turning around and walking away. Razz gave a nervous laugh. “Erm… so what’s her deal?” “Nothing to worry about,” Gwen said with a wave of her hand, “Let’s have the next!” Ray timidly moved to the front of the group. “You should already know me,” she said slightly worriedly, “but just in case, my name is Ray. I lead the scouts, we do the nightly watch and run ahead from time to time to inspect the areas we’re going to be moving through so that preparation is at its maximum.” “I remember you,” Razz said with a small smile. Ray returned the gesture with a tentative grin before she turned and scurried away. Razz gave a little giggle and turned to Gwen, but her sister wasn’t paying attention. “Come on, Shay you’re next!” the taller twin called. The short, curly haired girl Razz had seen sleeping on Lore last night seemed to bounce to the front of the group, there was so much spring in her step. “Hi there,” she said with an extremely high pitched, excitable voice, “I’m Shay, and it is so, so, so, so, so good to meet you!” Her voice seemed to just gain speed the longer she spoke. Razz was extremely amused and rendered uncomfortable by the child. “Erm,” she said with a nervous laugh, “Where did you get the coffee?” Shay seemed to completely freeze, her face quizzical. “There’s coffee?” “Uh…” Razz was at a loss. She looked to Gwen for help, and the girl rolled her eyes, waving at Shay. “Let’s finish this, Shay,” she prompted the curly haired teen. “Oh, right!” Shay gasped, completely forgetting Razz’s earlier comment, “I’m the second in command for Major! Lore is my partner, we work together to help them out!” Razz glanced at Gwen and raised an eyebrow in question. Why would that be a second in command? Gwen chuckled and waved Shay away. “Thank you, kiddo! Go see if anyone needs help organizing the patrols for the day,” she said easily. Shay seemed to bound away without a moment of hesitation. Razz turned to the remaining people and perked up immediately. She lifted her hand and waved. Dawn and Dusk, childhood friends of Gwen’s and constant figures in Razz’s life even if she didn’t get along with them too well, waved back in turn. Gwen didn’t have to instruct them to begin. “Welcome back, Razz,” Dusk began, “I’m in charge of-” “Razz! I’m the resident-” “Goddamnit Dawn, I was saying something-” “WERE NOT!” “Was too! Knock your shit off!” “Fuck you!” “Fuck you too!” Their voices were rising in pitch and Razz smirked. “You sound like teenage girls,” she said with a snide tone, and both boys turned to face her with indignant faces. “Do NOT,” they said in unison, both obviously trying to use deeper voices. Razz rolled her eyes as Gwen cackled evilly from behind her. Dusk coughed loudly and nudged Dawn behind him. “Anyway,” he said, trying to regain his composure, “I’m the medic. I do medicine. That’s all.” “Good, now you’re done. Move.” Demanded Dawn shoving his brother out of the way. “I’m the resident culinary artist!” “Resident pack mule is more like it,” grumbled Dusk from the side. Dawn looked wounded. “I am the cook!” He gasped, obviously insulted. “Please,” Dusk said with a roll of his eyes, “all you do is carry the cans and hand them out!” Dawn huffed loudly and looked to Gwen. In a whiney voice, he sought her approval. “Gwen, aren’t I a cook?” Gwen smiled at him and patted his head. “Sure you are,” she said with hidden sarcasm. “SEE?” He shouted at his brother. “She was being patronising,” Dusk pointed out. Gwen deftly grabbed Dusk around his arms and spun him around before he could throw a punch. “Alright!” She shouted, grinning, “that’s everyone! You two get the fuck outta here away from one another and let me and Razz have some peace!” Both boys groaned but after a small hesitation walked in opposite directions. Gwen waited for them to be out of earshot before she turned to Razz again. “Alrighty,” she said calmly, “I think, personally, that you should trial run with the Scouts first!” Razz looked at her with one eyebrow raised before shrugging her shoulders. “If you think so,” she said with indifference, “pretty sure it’s going to be a shit show wherever I go, so it’s your choice.” Gwen grinned and nodded. “Love you, sis!” She said, turning and beginning to jog away, “Stay right there, I’ll be sending a few scouts your way to do their introduction to the job!” A few feet away she paused, turning around. “Just for clarification,” she said pointedly, staring Razz down, “you’re going to spend time with each of the groups unless you find one you really like early on.” Razz was slightly uncomfortable with being left alone, but nodded. “Alright,” she called back, “I’ll be here! Gwen smirked and turned away again, making her way towards the largest body of people. Razz stood by quietly and watched, waiting for her sibling to return. Gwen wasn’t long, and after less than five minutes she broke away from the group, followed by Ray and one other girl that Razz knew the build of. That must be why; if she was a scout then Razz would have seen her during the observation period. At least her silhouette. Razz lifted a hand to say hello to Ray, and the slim girl gave a nervous smile. “Heya, Razz,” Ray greeted her quietly, and Razz nodded to acknowledge the getting. “You know Ray already,” Gwen said, “and this here is Ace. They’re going to take you on your first run. I don’t think that you’re little enough for it, but Ace might teach you the tricks of roof running if you’re doing well enough.” Razz raised an eyebrow at the term ‘roof running’, but Gwen waved her off. “They’ll explain. Ray is in charge, you don’t do anything unless she gives you the ok,” Gwen said firmly, looking at Razz with the glare only a sister can give her sibling. Razz rolled her eyes. “Yeah yeah, off you get Gwen. We’ll be fine.” “Funny,” Gwen said without an ounce of her composure slipping, “don’t fuck up now, ‘kay?” “‘Kay,” Razz sighed in exasperation, “I get it.” Gwen flashed a smile before she turned and headed away. Razz turned towards Ray expectantly as soon as Gwen was on her way. “So,” she said calmly, “what’s next?” “Basics,” Ray responded, her voice gaining a little strength. “We have to lay a few ground rules out before we can start the run.” “And those are?” “Ace, let’s see if you remember,” Ray suggested, turning her ocean blue eyes to the Albanian girl beside her. “Oh! Alright, I got this!” Ace said energetically, before pausing a moment to think. “Ok, alright,” she repeated after a second, “number one is never to leave the other scouts.” “Correct,” Ray said happily, giving a small smile, “unless ordered by the team leader, you never leave another behind. Getting separated could mean death.” Razz nodded, her gaze switching back to Ace. “Number two is…” she paused again, and then continued, “Never take unnecessary risks.” “Correct!” Ray said, obviously happy that Ace had remembered. She turned to Razz. “Any risk that you take is endangering your entire group.” Razz once again nodded her head, watching Ace again. “And finally-” Ace began, but was interrupted by Ray. “Finally,” Ray said, her voice as stern as she could get, “Never, ever, engage in a situation. You observe and report, you do not ever create or finish one.” That last rule really didn’t bode well with Razz. She was immediately unsure about the job- she knew her own impulsivity and learned to work with it. At the same time, however, she was aware of the fact that she was the newbie here. Questioning the leaders, even just the tertiary ones, would lead to judgments she didn’t want or need. Her desires were mixed when it came to this group; part of her wanted to stay and fit in, to be with her sister, but the other hated the idea of conforming to the masses like was expected here. For now at least, she would wait. She would be silent, and would go along with the rules. Razz dipped her head in understanding. “Alright, Razz,” Ray said with a small smile, “Let’s go then!” Razz forced a smile, and gestured for her to lead the way. The brown haired girl nodded at her and gladly stepped forwards to begin leading them. The shorter Albanian girl took up the rear, and Razz walked between them with as calm a face as she could put on. They walked for what seemed like an hour, but was really more like ten minutes. “This is as far as we explored last time,” Ray said to the two people following her, “and for today we need to go at least five more miles this way. We’ll find a good spot to set up camp, and report back.” “How far do you guys explore everyday anyway?” Razz asked. “About twenty miles usually,” Ray said nonchalantly, “but because you’re newer to this whole thing, I’m not going to push us out that far.” Razz just stared forwards at her. “Where are we going, anyways? How do we know we’re going the right direction?” “Gwen knows where we’re headed,” Ray said with obvious confidence in their leader, “We travel towards the rising sun, to the east.” “But what’s to the east?” asked Razz again, slightly more adamant this time. “I’m not sure,” she said, shrugging, “but Gwen knows.” “You sure do put a lot of faith in what my sister knows,” Razz muttered. “She’s never given us a reason not to trust her,” Ace piped up from the back of the group, and Razz turned to her with a small glare. “Uh huh,” she said in disbelief, “because Gwen is definitely the one that I would be putting my faith in right now.” Both Ray and Ace stared at her with chilly looks. “Let’s move on,” Ray prompted, trying to put a bit more energy in her voice. Razz rolled her eyes and nodded at her, “Lead the way,” she sighed. They walked for awhile in silence, Razz’s eyes trained on the ground. She found the silence both peaceful and unnerving. When things were this quiet when she was on her own, she was always worried about what would come next. On the other hand, however, it was nice to have a break from the constant chatter of young Ace and nervous but gentle Ray. “Razz, remember to keep your eyes up and looking at the surroundings. You want to see everything.” Ace offered her advice from the rear of their trio, and Razz instantly jerked her head up, scanning the surrounding areas. “Don’t just rely on your eyes, either,” Ray said evenly from behind them, their earlier confrontation seemingly forgotten, “your ears are just as good of an indicator of where a threat might be.” “Is that so,” asked Razz dully, obviously unimpressed with the advice. She had been on her own much longer than any of them, there seemed no reason to her that she should require so much mentoring on how to pay attention to her surroundings. She could feel Ace’s eyes boring into her back, but she didn’t give either of the others the satisfaction of looking back at her. “Pick up the pace,” ordered Ray quietly from the front of their little group, “maybe the running will do us all some good.” Well, if good was dry heaving into a rundown payphone booth, then running had certainly done Razz that favor. “Come on, rookie,” Ray called, “It’s only been three miles.”. Both her and Ace were half trying to provide support while also chastising her for this lack of stamina. “Shut up,” Razz rasped from inside the booth, “I never had to run when I was on my own, at least for not this long.” “Then how did you catch up to us?” Ray asked disbelievingly “I,” Razz said indignantly, lifting her head up and pushing herself out of the booth, “never needed to rely upon a giant mass of people for my protection.” Her voice radiated sarcasm as she said, “surprisingly, it’s not that hard for a single, smaller girl to hide from a hoard of the creatures in comparison to an entire massive lumbering group.” She smirked, and added, “On top of that, I could travel at night, unlike the rest of you who need to rest with the entirety of your little protective bubble.” Ray just looked at her, and sighed. “Come on Razz, you’ve had your breather. We haven’t found anything helpful whatsoever, there’s been nothing but empty highway. There’s none of those creatures around either.” “That’s a good sign, right?” Ace piped up from her side. “Not necessarily,” Razz pointed out evenly, taking a deep breath, “because we don’t know where they are. If they don’t attack us now, the odds of us being attacked when we decide to bring the entire group this way rises significantly.” “Hmm?” Ace made a confused noise. Razz sighed. “All I mean is that every second something doesn’t happen the chances of it happening the next second raise bit by bit. It’s simple math really.” Ace didn’t look the most convinced but she nodded her head anyway. It quirked a small smile onto Razz’s face. Gwen used to make faces like that when she was in math. It seems that both her and Ace had a similar distaste for the subject. “Come on then,” Razz prompted, “you guys think we should keep going, so let’s keep going.” They set off again in relative silence, though it was obvious that the small show of positive emotion from Razz had eased the other’s misgivings about her. It was just over forty-five minutes of walking later when they came across the first gas station outside of town. Their particular interstate highway had exits every 5-15 miles, meaning that if they timed it right they could travel the same amount they aimed to travel each day (ten or so miles), and come across a place to sleep. “Alright,” Ray said as they came up to the station, “We should check it over and then head back. We’ll eat dinner once we’re back with the group!” Razz nodded at her, as did Ace, and they advanced on the gas station. The old store was slumped to the side, as if a particularly strong gust of wind had caused it to lean. It had shingles falling off of it, and was cracked in a few places, obviously unstable. There was no gasoline anywhere, the ground was scorched everywhere around the place the tanks had once stood. “W-what happened here?” asked Ace in confusion. “Gasoline is highly flammable,” Razz said mildly, looking at the place where her family had fueled up their car so many times. Her face was unreadable and she sighed, stretching out her arm with a small yawn. She was just lowering the outstretched limb when she heard a strange growl from behind them. It wasn’t an animal, but wasn’t quite human either. “Aww, shit,” she said mildly, whipping around as her arm dropped to her belt. She had her machete in its holster there, and within a second she had her hand on the handle. She was facing a few more of the creatures than she’d anticipated. It seemed like there was five or more, rather than the one or two she had been expecting. “Alright, Razz,” she murmured to herself, holding her machete so that it was across her chest and pulling out her tomahawk in a hurried fashion, “you’ve done this before, you’ve fought off more than this.” “Run Razz, run!” She couldn’t tell which one had screamed that, but it struck her with a small bit of irritation. Regardless, she turned, weapons still in hand, and took off sprinting. Ray was hopping and waving for her to follow not far away, and Ace was right next to her, eyes wide with terror. “Ace,” shouted Ray as Razz neared them, “you take to the roof as soon as we’re in range, if we’re still being followed. Alert the group!” Razz gestured at them to run, and both turned and began following her lead, the adrenaline pumping through their veins driving them as a much faster pace than she had expected to be able to maintain. By the time they reached the edge of the town, they had very much lost the creatures, and Razz nearly keeled over as she crouched next to a building to vomit up what was left of her breakfast. She finally was able to sit back, and sort of collapsed onto her back, breathing shallow and her eyes closed. Ray and Ace weren’t much better off, though neither one vomited. They were leaning against the walls, panting, sweat beading their skin. “God…. damn it,” Razz groaned from the asphalt, “that was absolute bullshit you know.” “Welcome… to this job…” Ray said between deep breaths, “Run for your life, remember?” “Bullshit,” Razz repeated breathily, keeping her eyes closed, “it’s bullshit.” It seemed as though the entire group of them came to the conclusion that shutting up would be the safest way to go, and so that they did. They stood after ten minutes of breathing, thoroughly exhausted, and began to make their way back to their group at a slow amble. They were spotted by a skinny boy stood up on one of the roofs, and he shouted down to the group. “Scouts incoming!” Ray lifted a hand to show that they were all still ok, and they walked into the camp to give a report. Gwen and Major looked up in near unison, the former grinning over at her twin. “Hey, Razz!” she called, her smile broadening, “How’d it go? D’ya like being a scout?” Razz shot her a look that very clearly said that they would talk about it later as the scouting group sidled up to the leaders. “There’s a gas station about 10 miles down the road,” Ray reported to the leaders, mainly addressing Gwen, “with minimal interference from the creatures until the station itself. We ran into a hoard of them there, between 5 and 15.” “That’s a rather large range, Ray,” said Gwen with a minor bit of disappointment, though she didn’t hold any judgement in her tone. “8.” “What was that Razz?” asked Major, the only one to catch her muttered statement. “8,” Razz said speaking louder this time, “There were eight.” “And how did you come across that number?” he asked. Ray looked a little miffed that Razz had caught the exact number and she hadn’t. “It was because,” she said, a little jealously, “she did not listen to the most important rule of being a scout and nearly engaged.” “Well no shit I almost engaged,” Razz snapped irritably, “there were only eight, I’ve taken on 12 at a time. You’re the ones who came up with the stupid ‘don’t engage’ rules, not me!” “Hey, hey!” shouted Gwen, stepping in between them, “Knock it off!” Razz locked her jaw, glaring down at the ground. “Gwen, go talk to Ace and Ray over there,” Major said evenly, his voice gentler than hers, “I’ll talk with Razz.” “Why, because I’ll not tell the truth to my own sister?” snapped Razz sarcastically, turning her icy gaze onto the much taller boy. “No,” he said calmly, “Because I think that you’ll be better off with a calmer person than you will with your little flame of a twin right now.” Razz glared, but didn’t continue to argue. They waited until Gwen had led Ray and Ace out of earshot before speaking again. “Let’s go get you some food,” Major suggested, not looking at Razz. She glowered back. “What makes you think that I want anything to do with the food you serve me?” “Suit yourself, Spitfire,” he said with a tiny bit of amusement, “but we need to talk at least a bit so that Gwen doesn’t fry me later on.” As much as she didn’t want to, the term Spitfire was one of Razz’s favorites, and she liked as a nickname. “I have my own food,” she muttered, refusing to show her small bit of appreciation of the name, “you can have some of that.” Major nodded at her, and she turned away, walking over to the place where she had slept. She irritably pulled open her food bag, and hucked a can of soup at Major over her shoulder, before pulling another can out for herself. “So,” she said coolly, turning to face him, “Let’s talk.”

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amarmeme · 8 years ago

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A Trick of the Rain, CH 2

Pairings: Female Lavellan x Michel de Chevin, Eventual Cullen Rutherford x Lysette Rating: Mature Chapters summary: Verita returns to Skyhold and Cullen and the other advisors react to the loss of her vallaslin. Read on AO3

CH 1 |

CULLEN Leliana has something up her sleeve, a detail she does not care to share, but is clear from the spark in her eyes. Cullen does not doubt she purposely reveals this intrigue, but studies the fireplace instead of guessing. The spymaster sits on the corner of Josephine’s polished, tidy desk, picking over a parcel of chocolates the ambassador received, eschewing the misshapen pieces. “Don’t you think, Cullen?” Josephine asks. He turns to her voice, a look of absolute consideration on his face, though he has no idea what was said.

“Oh, Josie, he’s not paying attention to us.” Leliana pops a chocolate into her mouth, licking the remnant of sweet on her thumb. “Isn’t that right commander?” Her voice is teasing, light. Sometimes the three women at the top of the Inquisition are more trouble than he can reasonably handle, this being one of those times.

“Whatever it was didn’t need my opinion, I’m sure.”

He flicks his attention between the ambassador and the spy. Their mouths are both quirked now, upturned with mischief. They are all waiting for the Inquisitor. If he wasn’t so worried about her delay from Crestwood, the lure of his office would have won out over waiting in a den of she-wolves. Cullen sighs. He is worried about Verita though.

Both women currently present know his feelings for the Inquisitor, though for his sake he hopes not the depth. Despite believing himself very capable of hiding his... admiration for Verita, nothing escapes his colleagues’ notice. The former bards tease him when she is not around, which is unfortunately more often than not. Both for the teasing and the lack of her presence in Skyhold. Now he doesn’t care if a look of consternation is on his face in their company, what with Solas returning from Crestwood days before Verita. The mage seems nonplussed, reading or sleeping or painting in the atrium as if nothing had happened. And perhaps not. There was no way for Cullen to yet know, it hardly was like him to ask anything of the apostate, and he would reveal far too much in the asking now.

“Inquisitor!” Josephine chirps suddenly, rising from her desk.

Cullen didn’t hear Verita's arrival at all, so deep in thought. He makes a conscious decision to move slowly, as if he wasn’t eager to see her face. The reactions from the two other women are beyond curious, Josephine blanching slightly while Leliana sits stone-still, waiting for something. Verita murmurs a greeting so timid he strains to hear it, and Cullen finally allows himself to look upon her. The mood in the room has become tense, and as if his body has become sympathetic to their dispositions, his chest thrums in anticipation. He rises from the couch to usher them into the war room and almost drops back down in seeing Verita’s bare face. The bold, purple markings for one of her gods is gone. It would be hard to miss such a thing. Staggering slightly, he clears his throat and manages to speak without alarm. Years of handling blood mage apostates who are prone to spook will teach you to be calm in the face of uncertainty.

“Inquisitor, shall we move on?” He sweeps forward with his arm.

Verita looks relieved, nodding and taking the chance to turn away from the trio and push past the door towards the war room. Behind her, the advisors look to one another without a word. In the exchange of glances it is clear Leliana does indeed know something. She taps the side of her nose and raises her brows, leaving Cullen and Josephine to share a sympathetic look. The ambassador picks up her tablet and quill and marches behind Leliana.

He’s never been very good at hiding his emotions from his face, or so Cullen has been told. Not as a young recruit, especially not after Ferelden’s circle tower. Marian Hawke called him out on it often, nicknaming him something not even worth thinking of now, stern and angry as he was in Kirkwall. Usually it doesn’t matter much, he makes a point to say what is on his mind anyway. But in this moment, Cullen would give anything to be able to look at her without the depth of his concern shining through. His heart still beats strangely, sending a rush of blood pounding in his ears as he trails the women into the room and behind the war table. Verita’s unmarked hand runs along the edge of the table, a nervous tic. Her back is slouched, her shoulders drawn in. Whatever she needs to say will be difficult for her. Cullen wishes he could lend her some sort of strength or resolve, though his seems to flounder every time she is near.

In their routine positions, Cullen flanked by Leliana and Josephine, it takes every strength of will he possesses not to look at Verita. He cannot be certain the change plain on her face is thanks to Solas, but it doesn't take a great intellect to realize something went wrong between their departure and the mage’s abrupt return. Cullen is torn with indecision of whether it is ruder to stare or avoid looking at her altogether. Leliana leans forward over the table and the motion draws his attention to the map. Wooden pieces are checked all over the expansive table, a bright purple bolt of lightning signifying the Inquisitor’s whereabouts. A piece designed at her own request. It still sits on Crestwood, though that’s not right any more. Without thinking, he moves it back to Skyhold. A little gasp, half hidden by the sound of Leliana starting to say something, brings a flood of warmth to his face. For some reason calling attention to a rather obvious movement has put him out of sorts with the women. Cullen soothes the back of his neck, which is suddenly prickly hot with the attention of the others on him. He doesn’t have to look up to feel their incredulous eyes.

“Well,” Josephine tries after a drawn-out pause. “We are glad to see you again, Inquisitor.”

Verita gulps, fingers now clenching the thick wooden edge of the table. It is all he can make out, seeing as he’s too cowed to look back up from the table. “Yes, you too,” she says. “As I think you can plainly see,” she starts nervously. “I-- something happened while I was gone.”

Her voice warbles slightly and Cullen wishes to scoop her up and shield her from the source of pain. It’s a sudden, terrifying urge he squashes down.

The tension is unbearable for a moment longer, until Leliana speaks. “Verita,” she says. The Inquisitor answers in a relieved rush of sound, a murmured yes. The spymaster turns on her heel and faces him and Josephine. Cullen looks up from where he was staring, though his movements feel as thick and slow as molasses.

“I received a message from the Inquisitor yesterday with news of her return.” Leliana says. “She also conveyed to me the purpose of her trip with Solas to Crestwood.” Leliana smiles at this. No doubt she pried this information out of Solas, rather than from Verita’s own hand. “He revealed to her the origins of her vallaslin, from study of the fade. It seems the original intent was for the marking of slaves.”

“I asked him to remove it,” Verita rushes to add. Her face is flush with color, the tone of her voice returned to normal for the moment. “I don’t want anyone to think it wasn’t my choice,” she says much quieter.

Verita seems quite hasty to defend Solas -- not that the man needs it. He has never appeared the type to require approval from anyone. The atmosphere in the room has cooled a bit, but Cullen focuses his unsettled nerves on Solas instead. Did the mage ask Verita to remove the tattoo? He must have learned how to do so from the fade and then propositioned her. But for what purpose? As a kindness? The shrinking, uncertain Verita before him could not have been the mage's object, surely. What kind of man would do such a thing to someone he cared for, and then leave her? Before he realizes it, Cullen is frowning at Verita.

“Cullen,” she says. “Are you alright?”

Maker’s Breath, he thinks. Contain yourself.

“Yes, Inquisitor. Forgive me, I was only... concerned. That is--” He clears his throat and fiddles with his pommel.

“--by your leave, Inquisitor, there is much we need to discuss,” says Josephine. She saves him from saying anything else, Andraste be praised. This was not the right time to become tongue tied over the Inquisitor.

Thankfully, they start discussing matters of importance to the Inquisition. Not that the wellbeing of the Inquisitor herself wasn’t important, but he can tell Verita would rather not discuss the details any further. Josephine provides a few updates on their allies, Leliana shares what her spies have learned about Corypheus’ movement since the Well, which is sparse. Then it is Cullen’s turn to give an admittedly droll report on the status of the troops and their keeps. Usually Verita manages to remain interested in it all as tedious as it may be, but he can tell she’s fighting to focus right now. He hurries through his list, closing off on Caer Bronach quickly seeing as Verita was just there. She perks her head at the mention, pointed ears twitching. She requests a few more troops at the keep, to clean up the old tavern nearby. Good for morale, she says. Cullen can’t disagree with that, couldn’t disagree with anything she asked of him, as small as she seems to be feeling. It continues to pull at his heart, her defeated pose and soft tone. Most days Verita comes alive in the war room, a true leader diving into problems wholeheartedly. It is just one of the things he admires about her.

They spend over an hour discussing ongoing needs and small details that require Verita’s approval before a there’s a knock and the door pushes open. It is Morrigan, the apostate from the Orlesian court. Her presence immediately quells the productivity, each person turning to stare at the witch’s arrival. Morrigan’s yellow eyes gleam impishly, narrowing in on Verita’s face. She raises an eyebrow before streaming into the room, raven feathers fluttering on her shoulder.

The witch places herself at Verita’s side and cuts to the point quickly. “Have you discovered what secrets the Well holds Inquisitor? Or do the voices still confound you?”

Verita rubs her forehead if pained by the prospect. “The voices whisper from so far away I can barely hear them.” “If only one who understood such voices had used the well’s powers instead,” Morrigan snaps. Leliana chimes in, voice just as curt. “Then we’d have to rely on her interpretation of them and whatever she chose to tell us.”

Morrigan is snide, lip curling, barely contained ire clear in her peculiar, sharp eyes. Cullen has heard what transformative abilities the witch possesses. It seems her penchant for this magic stirs barely beneath the surface, predatory. A part of him itches to hold his templar blade, one he no longer carries. Still, the habits of the order are borne deeply, as hard as he might wish them gone.

Morrigan continues. The woman is absurdly confident. “Have I not been forthcoming enough for you Spymaster? I told you what the Well could have done Inquisitor. You should be hearing shouts from the heavens not whispers.” A crackle of Verita’s magical energy can be felt in the room. It is obvious she distrusts Morrigan as much as Leliana does. The Inquisitor no longer looks unsure of herself, on edge and quite ready to battle the mage if given the chance. None of the advisors move.

“I will figure it out myself, Shemlen,” she growls. It’s the first time he’s heard Verita use that word in such spiteful context, if at all. “If the vir'abelasan was not meant for me, it certainly was never meant for you. Fenedhis lasa!”

Verita slams a fist on the table before realizing herself. She looks at the hand, chest heaving with effort to contain her annoyance, and unclenches the taught fingers. He does not wish her the displeasure, but Cullen’s proud she stood up to the other woman. Something about Morrigan's haughty nature offends him, as if she’s impervious to wrongdoing. Everyone is capable of making mistakes, no matter how high they hold themselves in their own regard. The larger the ego, the father the fall from grace, he thinks. The witch would fall for a long while.

Verita controls her breathing again, and apologizes for her outburst with a bit of shame. The tips of her ears are pink, and wide-eyed she turns to Leliana. Each of her movements are considered, as if the reaction moments before was entirely of her body's doing. “Have you seen Solas?”

“I believe you will find him easily, Inquisitor.” Leliana smiles coyly beneath her hood. When one knows the spymaster well, as he does now, they steer clear of earning that sort of look of shrewd amusement.

“Then that is where I where I will be. Perhaps he has a further idea about these whispers.” Verita ignores Morrigan’s attempt to speak further, effectively cutting off the witch by turning away. “That’s enough for now, I think. Josie?”

The scratching sweep of quill against parchment punctuates the end of the meeting, Josephine drawing a line at the end of her fine notes. “I agree, Inquisitor. The rest can wait until you’ve rested from your trip.”

Verita nods, thanking them, and turns from the room. The tails of her purple leather jacket, still damp from the field, flaps in her wake. Cullen moves to follow, as if he could possibly catch her and hold her still. As they all usher through the war room doors, Morrigan offers a snide remark about trailing Ferelden pups. He does not give her the satisfaction of acknowledgement. If he had the power to, the woman would find herself at the swift end of a boot, escorted out of Skyhold for good. How Verita manages to keep apologizing diplomatically whenever the older woman provokes her dually perplexes and impresses Cullen. A surge of pride in his breast at the renewed thought of her slammed fist sends a chuckle to his lips though.

Verita’s far better than any of them could have hoped for in a leader, himself in particular. He shoves a hand into his pocket, feeling the lucky coin he still carries ever since the day he left for Templar training. The metal disc feels heavy as he watches Verita slip into the hall to find the apostate who took her tattoo away. With a pang of regret, he let’s her go without saying anything more.

Cullen’s journey is a big part of this story. I’m not ashamed to admit I can’t hc him as alone for too long. :)

#a trick of the rain #cullen rutherford #dragon age #dragon age inquisiton #verita lavellan #my writing

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ikonislife · 8 years ago

Text

Part 1: Just Go.

Hanbin x Reader

Fluff, Angst

Part 2: Please Stay.

Based off of Ikon’s song Just Go

Idea sent by @7n13bang . I apologize for how late this is. I actually had ideas for this song awhile back but simply forgotten about it until you requested it. I’m so sorry if it doesn’t live up to your expectation. I know it’s probably wayyyyyyy too long but I really like this suggestion and the song so you could imagine the word vomit that happened when I wrote this. Again, I apologize for being so late and if it’s not to your liking. Hope you enjoy. P.S. I honestly couldn’t stand ending this in angst haha, I almost wrote a fluff ending to it. (I still could if anyone is interested.)

“Why are you so good to me?”

“Simple. Seeing your smile makes letting things go that much easier.”

The way he said it, with such ease and pure happiness made you ponder if it was always this easy to love someone.

Your mind races at light speed retracing every second that had led you to this point, to this moment of clarity. It was not even 12 hours ago that you thought such sentence wouldn’t even still be reserved for your ears as you trekked down the long hallway leading to his office. After all, what guy would wait for a girl so broken that she rejected him for the 9th time in the year and a half since he first confessed on the basis of not wanting to get hurt again. Deep down you knew he’d be your stableness but when times came, you were ready for all but say yes.

His friendship remained the same and the word ‘girlfriend’ was nothing but a distant memory from 6 months ago, since the last time he confessed. You’d liked to think it was because of his increased work load but you knew better. You’ve seen the way he flirted with girls at company parties, eyes so primal they resembled a lion stalking for prey. You had convinced yourself it was the alcohol but again, you knew better. He wasn’t the type to bring you as a date only to abandon you for the tall blonde that practically gave him a lap dance in front of everyone. Honestly with the way his hands ghosting over just the right part of her body with just enough touch to be flirtatious but not enough to earn ire from everyone else, you were pretty certain what he does all those night you thought he had headed home alone after dropping you off at the safety of your own apartment. Hot with liquor, you ran off into the night only to be pulled back into that safe embrace and the voice that melt your organ faster than the poison burning inside your gut.

“What’s wrong?” He had said.

“Nothing except maybe I freaking love you but clearly, you changed your type…” Was what you wanted to say. Instead, the most pathetic “Nothing” slipped out along with a sad smile as you backed away from the place you wanted to be most, in his arms. This marked your first fail attempt of confessing.

God, you’re so useless Y/N… All you gotta say is ‘I love you, Hanbin’ and you couldn’t even do that. Five freaking times, seriously. You groan internally staring up at the intimidating hallway, feeling like a guilty employee waiting to be fired. Then again, if you can’t build upon failures, if you can’t use it as stepping stones then what’s the point in life. right, Mr. Johnny Cash?

Calling upon the wisdom of the deceased, your sweaty palms shakily ball into a fist before the most pitiful knock vibrated through the air. It wouldn’t be truthful to say that you hadn’t hope the timid knock would evade his ears but alas, the stern voice commanding “come in” shredded that option.

“Finished with work?” you asked, awkwardly shuffling into the big room that would put the Oval Office to shame. Luckily, he was too busy hunching over the ornate wooden desk to notice your ridiculous tottering self trying to decide where to sit.

“Unfortunately, no… This dumb ass from the financial department messed up some numbers for the meeting tomorrow night pretty badly. I’m gonna have to correct everything myself. What’s up?”

You were almost glad he spoke up as that lit a fire under your butt to pick a destination. Settling down quickly on the couch, you had felt that 5th cup of tea slowly creeping its way back up your throat before exclaiming loudly, not giving your stomach a chance to regurgitate.

“Can I come over there?”

Unsure of what the hell you were thinking, you winced before a confused Hanbin waved you over with an uncertain chuckle, not sparing you even a glance.

“What the hell kind of question was that? Of course you can… freak!”

Your feet began their longest, most treacherous trip to the desk a mere few feet away. Pep talking yourself the whole way through, though, all your worries and thoughts suddenly dissipated the moment your eyes hooked onto the lines of his jaw like a baited fish. Even after working practically all day, he still looked as ravishing as ever.

The way his agile fingers skillfully scribble signatures after signatures never ceased to amaze you. If it wasn’t giving out John Hancock, the slender digits would rummage through the perfectly made brown locks, messing them up just a bit. The way he rolled his lower lips between the rows of pearly white got you mirroring the action, eyes now following the soft finger pads rubbing the furrowing eyebrows after finding the documents aren’t to his liking. Perfectionist this one is. His eyes bloodshot from the strains put on by the bright screen while yours strained on him, worrying that the timing may simply be wrong.

No, it had to be now. In fact, you were convinced if you didn’t do it now that you’d never. Shaking a firm fist to motivate yourself, you sneaked over to the unsuspecting victim and threw your arms around his neck, cheek resting gingerly against his. None of your action fazed him at this point, he was all too used to your friendly affection and innocent skin-ship. Ultimately, he was just being selfish. The night had been too long, too morose for the young boy hard at work that any warm touch would be welcome, especially one from his favorite girl. Simply coining this as one of those night you were feeling alone at home craving for human interaction and he was much too lonely in the big office surrounding by nothing but pulseless cold objects, he questioned your intention sarcastically, anticipating nothing but silliness from you.

“What’s up monkey? So clingy today. Are you planning on killing me with love?”

His eyes never once left the paper but his hand trailed off its task just long enough to pat your cheek affectionately.

“Did I ever tell you that you look freakishly handsome in a suit? Like godly good.”

Silliness he expected, silliness he got as your poor nerve had gave in for the umpteenth time this week leaving you complimenting him like an idiot.

“Yes, a few times too many. I don’t appreciate the lust in your eyes by the way, staring at me like I’m food. Again, Why so clingy?”

“Nothing!”

You declared in the cutest voice you could muster, a bit sickening really as you mentally note to never use that voice again. Now what he hadn’t forecasted was the big, wet kiss you had just smacked against the soft skin of his cheek before running off.

His head shot up alarmingly fast, shocked by your action. Your fondness for him had never gone past the occasion cuddles when either of you have an especially hard day and that was all it was - pure, innocent comforting. This in a way was too much for him. For a split second the corners of his lips curl up in a satisfying smile that his girl was giving him affection after a long day of work before frowning once again at the realization you’re not his. Hanbin had, to him, a nasty habit of getting lost in your ingenuous, without meaning touches that has him selfishly pretending you’re his girl. What’s the harm, to the world, you both look just like a couple strutting down the street hand in hand glee with love. To you, he’s just a good friend offering some peace of mind and support whenever, wherever. Harmless until moments like these where the line between reality and his dream blurred so obscurely he could feel his heart being elating with hope only to await the prick of the pin of your rejection at the end of the line. With a loud clank of the pen dropping out of his stilled hand, he had gotten up out of his seat and was now fast steading toward you.

“What the hell was that?”

He stared at you, wide eyes, mouth gaped open for the whole world to see. Those eyes, as dead as they were from being a few minutes away from the clock striking twelve, you could tell he was burning through all the scenarios in his head of what your kiss could mean, steaming to study every details like a cop assessing a murder scene. Always at the right time, your words failed you. You opened your mouth as if to say something but quickly closing it as you had no good way of easing into the nerve wrecking conversation.

“Start talking. You don’t just go kiss people then say nothing.”

Frustration taut on his forehead, his voice without maybe even him realizing it went firm. You knew this was no time to back out as this wasn’t the gentle Hanbin you had come to love. This was calm and willful version of him that will go to great length to get what he want, the version that instilled fear upon his subordinates. Hell, he could make even the baddest of of the bad cry with that cold, haughty stare.

“Go on a date with me.” You said it with such determination that it shook the big boss out of his routine. Or perhaps it was really just the fact that you wanted to date.

“What?!”

He practically screamed as your voice reduced down to a small squeak, eyes avoiding his at any cost as you cower further into the couch, wishing to blend in with the background.

“Date… You.. Me…”

His visage soften back at the clear fright visible in your small, retreating form. After all, he had never needed to use his work voice with you.

“Like, like as in… b..boy and girl? like date-date?”

He stammered, stared at you confusedly but a hand already reaching out to move a stray clump of hair away from your forehead.

“Hanbin, what other kind is there?”

Your confident diminished with every question he threw your way, that is if you even had any to begin with. You had hope he’d just take your word and you could both be on your merry way but instead he decided to play 21-questions, making your life just that much harder.

“Well, we’ve done date-ish things before… I had to be sure. What?! Why?”

Your eyes faltered, oblivious of the glint of hope and joy that had took over for the vanishing tiredness in his.

“Uhm, sorry… Forget it, it’s alright really. It was just a thought…a bad one…”

Silent fell over your face, softly contorting it to a slight discomfort, an awkward depressing laugh puffed out of your chest leaving the surrounding drab. Even though his reaction hurt, you felt light. Light that you had finally gotten what you wanted to say off your chest. At least now your weary mind can rest even if your heart weren’t reciprocated how it wanted to be.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have come… You’re so busy and i’m just spewing nonsense. I’ll see you later, yea?”

Brimming tears threatening to fall, you got up as quickly as he had sat down, destination set.

“Uh uh. No, not so fast. Sit your pretty butt back down.”

Still avoiding his gaze, you bit your lips in regret. Regret of bringing this up so long after he had given up. Regret in coming here. Just regret. You wanted nothing more but to bolt out of there but nevertheless, you obliged.

Couldn’t bear to see his expression, you looked anywhere but him. The quiet so deafening even the white noise bowed out. Body shivering from the icy air or the lacked of any reaction from Hanbin, you couldn’t discerned. You had been readied to give up and ran when the familiar pair of strong arms you’d recognize even if you were to go blind reached out to cut the tension so high strung through your body.

“You’re being serious with me right now?” Hanbin cooed so softly into your ear as he rest his chin on your shoulder, arms desperate to hold you in place.

“If you had to ask then…”

Currently sitting in his lap, you thought about getting off but it would’ve been as useful as a sprinkler in the rain. The hold he had around your waist was too strong, not in the physical sense but in the emotional Heimlich kind of way, much too comforting for your enervate body to pull away.

“Hey, come on. Running away is not gonna do either of us any good. I never said i don’t want to, just very curious about your sudden interest in me. That’s all.”

God know what gotten into you but what you said next, you knew, and so did he, better than anyone that you had no right to ask.

“Have I ever questioned your feeling for me?”

“Oh, that’s not fair” An almost automated soundless gasp came. “How many times have you turned me down already.”

You winced, knowing full well you had brought this upon yourself. You wished so hard that he’d ask you again after the first time, that maybe if he would then you’ll say yes. However, after the second, then third, then the 9th time, you could see the dejection so clearly behind that understanding smile. You knew there wouldn’t be a 10th time and he knew you would never say yes, not to him.

“I’m serious, Hanbin. I know it seems so stupid and, and hypocritical for me to be doing this after pushing you away so many time but I really did thought long and hard about it. I mean, god, this is my 6th attempt since that night after the party and like an hour circling your building before I could even show up here. I’m sure the cop thought I was casing the place so I could rob you. and what did I do… I resorted to kissing you then run away because none of the rehearsed line would come out. I’m a nervous wreck, Hanbin. I almost threw up onto the night guard, in the elevator, in front of your door, on you just now… I. I…”

Your feeble heart vomited all over the place only to once again failed to finish the wonderful speech that would’ve made stone cry. Shoving your face so deep onto your palms you make out the life lines, you let yourself melt under the tender hand rubbing warmth up and down your back.

“Yes.”

With one simple word, he reeled you back into reality. Finally finding the courage to look him in the face, you immediately found yourself getting lost in those beautiful brown eyes before sinking yourself into him. As always, his hold on you tighten, embracing away all your pain and doubts.

“You’re seriously too cute, you know that? six times? Wow, I must be some catch huh?”

The dulcet tone, the melodious voice, all was back along with the smile that was no longer contained but beamed even brighter than the light pollution outside.

“Hanbin~ don’t tease me.”

“Okay, baby. I’m just excited, that’s all.”

He exhaled the word so effortlessly, as if it’s second nature, as if you were always his “baby”.

“Excuse me but we haven’t even gone on a date. You can’t say that yet.”

“Oh, shut up. Yes, I can. Babyy.”

Rolling your eyes hard at him just being him, you couldn’t help but be elated at the way it sound, the connotation, the thought of you being his. Lifting your chin softly off his shoulder, he moved your lips to match his, closing the small space in between.

It started out soft, like the way the wind of spring tickle your skin through the flight of countless cherry blossom petals. His lips, soft like cloud but plump like the best ripen peach of the summer, pressing then pulling. With a tilt of the head, he deepen the contact, mouth needfully moulding against yours so slowly but firm and sure of what it wanted. Fingers in a tangled mess with your hair, his grip grew firm pulling your face even closer, wanting more, needing more. He was so feverish in this long awaited kiss that not even the literal breath taking contact could satisfy his craving. Whatever frost was ravaging your body earlier, his kiss sent them away, replacing them with fire. Orange. that was the only color flashing through your mind, shades of orange. Your body felt like a freshly fallen leaf of autumn, drifting through the wind unsure of where you’d end up at but you couldn’t care less. All you wanted is to enjoy the ride while the rest of the world burst up in flames of brilliant ombre of red, orange, and yellow. Without any warning, his tongue thrusted roughly into your parted lips, ravaging the inside with sensual licks. Yours quickly find itself welcoming his, taking in the bitterness of coffee that was much more pleasurable than the bitterness of the harsh winter outside. His fingers digging into the small of your back, kneading the soft flesh skillfully while his lips devoured yours for a few more minutes only parting by necessity of air. Panting softly, dizzy from kissing for so long, dizzy from his love, you rest your forehead against his, a small smile curling up to match his.

“I’m suppose to be working, babe. What are you making me do?”

He asked, landing a quick teasing peck before running his thumb across the swollen, red lips. Exhaustion evident from the way he broke away to lean back on the soft couch, head lulled to one side, eyes half lidded perhaps not from tiredness but drunken in love.

“You don’t seems to mind. Plus aren’t I dating the boss? Can’t you issue make out time with a wave of your hand?”

Not realizing that the neuron of your brain had command the sentence to be said aloud, embarrassed and shocked, you timidly played with his tie, avoiding his teasing gaze.

“Abusing my power already huh?”

“I don’t like that you’re overworking yourself. You need rest. If me distracting you mean your cute butt can relax then yea, I’ll abuse your power some more.”

“Well break time is definitely well within the realm of my power, your lips sadly are not. you’re gonna bleed if you keep up with the distraction.”

You walked your fingers from his abs up to his chest before gripping his chin gingerly in place.

“I don’t mind one bit.”

Instead of going back in for another kiss, you nibble along his lower lips, earning a low sexy groan. After a particularly harsh bite, you pulled away leaving him hissing in pleasure.

“Damn, you know how to play.”

“I try.” You gave a kittenish response, happily let your body fall into the arms of your new found love. You were finally readied to give up on the past, to let Hanbin caress you into a new life, you were ready…

“Are we really doing this? or is this just some pity party for turning me down so many time?”

His sentence, as clear and plain as it was sent a big pang to your heart. Your body rose up, getting ripped away from his warmth by the cruel mistress of winter. You knew it would take time to convince him but you weren’t prepared for the doubts, the way he questioned your feeling. Eyes diverging to the lights that would’ve been too assaulting to the eyes but now subdued from being on the 15th floor, dimly shone through the floor to ceiling window just behind that grand desk. Your words littered the path away from him, eventually trailing off once the cool glass relieved the hot tears on your cheeks.

“Look, Hanbin… I understand your reservation about ‘us’ and it’s all my fault. It took a lot for me to, to finally laid myself out for you to see, to pick at, to criticize. I know I deserve whatever dirty laundry you got to air out with me but please be honest with me. I’d rather you hurt me now th.. the… Uhm. sorry…”

Your already meek voice muted by the spark from the soft fingers lightly caressing the round of your shoulders, briskly spinning you back into the safety of his hold. You wanted to stand firm but every pass of his fingers, every squeeze his hand gave, every touch laid upon your body melt you into oblivion and you found yourself instinctively rest upon his strong chest.

“Hey, hey…. Come on, you know I don’t mean it like that. I would never hurt you. It’s just everything is so unreal. When you called, I hadn’t exactly expect much let alone having my dream girl pestering me for a date. It just take a minute, you know.”

“I know, I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m so sorry.”

“Let’s put that pout away, huh. How bout we do that date right now?”

“No, you have to work. Plus you’re worn.”

“Nah, I’m never tired when I’m with you. I’m the boss right? and right now, the boss needs a date to recharge for the long work hours. I think I know the perfect coffee shop. It’s on the lower end but got great food, open all night…”

You knew exactly where this was going. If you were to ever become Hanbin’s sworn enemy, you knew for certain what he would always have over your head, the very day you tangled yourself in the mess that is the friendship with Kim Hanbin.

“Hmm, oh yea? and how’d you find this place huh, rich boy?”

“Just this weird girl I met once. She damaged my reputation then paid me in cheap coffee.”

Even with your face buried deep in the fabric of his shirt you could practically felt the smirk that was blooming on his face. Not really up to relent the addicting cologne mixed with Hanbin’s very distinct scent that had only intensified after a long day of work, you kept still. Muffling out a haphazard answer, you just wanted to prolong this perfect moment with your perfect boy and the perfect view over the bustling night life below.

“Sound quite atrocious, this girl. Did you get rid of her?”

“Oh! Not. A. Chance. I’m keeping her for eternity.”

“My beautiful girl” Hanbin sighed contently, that small smirk never left his lips as he pulled away just enough to let you onto those beautiful pools of brown that twinkled just a bit brighter than the illuminating skyline outside. Not bothering to pack up the organized chaos strewn atop the wooden furnitures, he held your hands in his, proudly and confidently bursted into the world outside knowing whatever happens from now on, it’ll be you and him. Neither of you will feel live another cold lonely while you’re both here.

“Did your brothers dusted you for fingerprint last night when you got home?”

Your eyes met with the cheekiest smile accompanied by the cutest little dimple that only seemed to magnify the playfulness he possessed. His eyes sparked with curiosity, pulling you close, full lips pressed lightly against your winter bitten cheek. Both your heart beat as one, still elated with the coziness and wavering nerve of your late night first date a mere 8 hours ago. Taking Hanbin’s outstretched hand, both of you retreated back to the private pleasantness behind the closed door, isolating yourselves against the gloomy world outside. Not that it mattered much where you were, with him, you could be in a dumpster and it’d still feel fuzzy and warm.

The evidences of your late night fun that had both of you arriving home closer to sunrise than sunset was well displayed by the lack of the well cut suits that was the norm for your statuesque boyfriend. His usual dapper gentleman image replaced with simple ripped jeans, t-shirt, and a heavenly soft black cardigan. The long locks that was so often pushed back was now soft and lax, having the short undercut below playing peek-a-boo. To the world, he was Kim Hanbin, successor of perhaps the biggest corporation in the country; a cold, haughty, calculated person and maybe just a bit too good at his job for someone so young. To say this all too familiar image of him to you shocked the whole company would be to say the least. It wasn’t strange for Hanbin to show up at work with you under his arms so all those stares, all those whispers, all the soft squeals from the young female employees were sure for the soft, fluffy boyfriend look that to them was non-existent.

The Hanbin you know was the mischievous and cheerful yet sensitive softy underneath all that icy facade. Who could blame him for those cold, and bitchy stares when his day job is being the best in the dog eats dog world that he got thrown in at a tender age of 20. No matter how much in love you were with this version of Hanbin or how many times he had reassured you, guilt was something you couldn’t denied for jeopardizing his health and work by keeping him out so late. Having clearly only arrived home for haste shower and a quick change, he was already back to assume the big boss role.

“You know it! God, I swear if it was up to them, I wouldn’t know the existent of boys till I’m 30.”

You retorted with a roll of the eyes, jokingly dodging a few kisses flying your way, elicited his sweet laughter to chase yours.

“Excuse me, mister. I don’t think your behavior is appropriate. We’ve only been on one date and I don’t even know you like that yet. Sir, Please calm yourself. My mother would be so disappointed with this type of behavior from a proper gentleman such as you are.”

You stated, factually. Pressing your index digit against his soft lips, you let your giggle mingled with his. Your retaliation seemed to only riled him up even more has his arms were now working toward caging your whole body against his, forcing his way into the crook of your neck, trailing small pecks down your collar bone.

“Ohh, I see what you’re doing. Just stay still and let me love you!”

Jokes and play fights weren’t anything new in your friendship, it’s only natural that it carried over to your newly hatched relationship. Countless times before while laying there breathless from laughing so hard with you still under his hold, he’d make you promise no matter what happen, you’ll make sure he never lose the childlike wonder. It was the only thing he had left to hold him back, to prevent the cutthroat world of business to consume him whole. Smacking kisses loudly on your cheek, he completely ignored your disgusted groans from the wet contacts, shrill laugh teared through your eardrums.

“Well, I’m sure the boy knew you existed you…”

Nuzzling his face gently against your hair, you felt a long sniff before he warmly cooed the sentiment against your shoulder. Whether it be excitement or nervousness, he sailed through that sentence faster than the brilliant shooting stars he had once brought you to see simply because you were feeling down. Or perhaps he had half heartedly hoped you wouldn’t catch the coquettish remark that weren’t of his usual forte. Compliments weren’t a strange occurrence with Hanbin. You lost count of all the time his words brought out the rosiness in your face faster than the whipping wind of winter. “beautiful”, “gorgeous” weren’t anything new but cheesy pick up lines are something of a mythical being. At this point, you were pretty certain they’re non-existing in Hanbin’s brain. A small gasp passed your lips as you tried your best to struggle your way through to get a better view of the handsome face under those messy yet beautiful locks.

Hanbin, the sweetest man in the world, capable of just about anything but if flirting was a sport, he’d definitely come last. Despite looking like a sex god with that intense, sharp stare and the cocky seductive smile. Body, envied by even the most well paid model. Hell, he’d put any human being on their Earth to shame. Yet, the boy couldn’t be more like an inexperienced puppy. He could make everyone from the interns to the cruelest of business partners, no matter the gender, swoon so hard they barely know what happened by just the curl of his lips into a spine chilling smirk. Yet rarely did you ever see that side of him. As oppose to the complexity of the big man fitting of running a company, Hanbin, the real him is simple. For him, love should be something innocent and in a way, blunt. Not a man of many words and never one for hidden agenda, Hanbin always calls things out as they are.

One look and you can tell how much he wished to just dig a hole, climb under, and never come back out again. Wondering why the hell was he so hot with that goofy smile blooming on his lips. Staring now at that sheepish grin blooming on his lips, that sweaty palm, the cute nervous giggle, the way his eyes couldn’t stay in one place, you were reminded of exactly why.

It was simple. He was just being him.

You love hanbin the way he is and no money in the world could convince you otherwise.

“Kim Hanbin, was that a line? Are you going cute on me right now?”

You stared at the bashful boy hiding his wonderful face behind the sweater paws. Nothing in this world prepared you for the day Hanbin decided to run a line by you. Caught off guard would be a severe understatement.

“Holy crap. Oh my God, it was!! Look at you, baby. All blushing.”

“Stooppp, babe~”

He warned you timidly, voice trailed off as embarrassment settled in. Your amusement only rocketed off the chart even more when the whining began. Ruffling up his dark chestnut locks, you devised a plan to get a peek at the shy boy. Kisses seemed to work as the barrier blocking you from your love loosen up a bit.

“Hey, I don’t get game laid on me often okay? Let me have this moment, please!”

To combat the endless amount of giggle pouring out from your lungs, he gave another loud muffled groan, digging his face deeper into your back as if he could teleport out of there. What to do but to poked and prodded at his side the best you could until he gave up loud high pitch yelps for help. Not one to back down from a fight, the hands that were so peacefully rested against your stomach began piano their way upward to your weak spots, ripping the atmosphere with your crisp laughter. Knowing if you were to ever die from any unnatural causes, it’d be from tickling, he always used it to his advantage. At the slightest touch of the soft finger pads, he sent you slumping over onto the plush velvet couch, kicking and screaming for your life.

“Now, I am very sorry that I can’t be one of those cute, suave boyfriend all the time for you. But, what i cannot, will not be sorry for is that your little butt think you can somehow win a tickle fight against me.”

His voice oozed with confident, unlike the shy small voice earlier. Your soul smiled satisfyingly knowing your plan to get him to relax worked, nothing like a play fight to bring the kid out of him.

“Alright, I’ll stop… No, please babe. I’ll stop teasing you!”

“Promise you’ll be good?”

“Yes, babe. No, not my thigh… HANBINNN. I’ll do anything.”

Nearly died choking from the laughter piling up inside your throat that was pushing their way out, you curled your body up admitting defeat. Once you managed to suppressed the ugly guffaw only Hanbin seems to be able to brought out, he gingerly laid atop your body as your words turned serious.

“I’m serious though. Don’t worry about your game or, or being cute for me. You’re always effortlessly cute even if you don’t realize it. If I were to fall for any games, it’d definitely be yours…”

Finally abled to entrap his full focus, his relentless hands ceased their teasing as your enticing sentence faded off. Serene came back to his alluring features once the pure, comforting silent sinked back over the room. Brushing a few strands matted to your face from the sweat remnant of earlier fun, his lips lingered, hovering just a hair above yours. Waiting patiently for the ending of that sentence that could quench his thirst for your love, a content smile shined on his face.

“… Plus, I’m already yours. Aren’t I?”

If any smile in this world that could heal the Earth, it’d be his. That cute gummy grin that slowly chipped away the frost in your heart found itself blinding you. The way the corners of his lips reacted faster than his brain could, quickly reaching up to reveal those perfect pearly whites only to dipped back down coyly into a small bashful grin. You could always tell the genuine nervousness of by the way those pink, plush lips would occasionally get quickly graze over by his tongue, trying its best to contain itself from the overwhelming excitement. His eyes, so kind and caring yet just a smidgen of playfulness showing through making the whole experience unparalleled. As if your heart haven’t beat fast enough, there’s the dimple that topped off the whole cake that is his ridiculously unreal smile.

With that cheerful expression, his eyes indecisive of their destination tearing themselves apart between your eyes and lips. Something about this shy reaction tugged hard at our heartstrings, sending the most genuine warmth that could only be rivaled by that carefree sunny day when your love for him were still under wraps. You had spent the day happily roaming the colorful field of flowers behind his countryside vacation home, hand in hand under the energetic summer sky. Helping him along, your hands cupped his cheek softly, holding his attention in place with a soft smile of your own.

“I might have seemed less than interested last night when you asked but believe me, I thought my exultant heart was going to explode from beating so fast. I know you already said you’re mine but there’s uhm something I wanna ask…”

Once the confident regained, his heart and soul reached up to you by means of his soothing voice that always dropped deeper than normal when he gets serious, making it even more pleasurable to the ears.

“Be mine forever?”

Offering his whole world, a comforting hand to guide you through whatever hardships to come; and he done it in a way that was so him, heartfelt and simple.

“Always”

To commemorate the moment, his lips finally closed the distance. Unlike the heated, ravaging make out session the night before, this was caring and innocent, reflecting much of what is Hanbin. His touch so light and gentle yet the biggest impact was felt by your whole existent, shattering whatever left of that box you had locked your fragile heart away in.

“Mine. Kim Hanbin is mine, forever. I like that.”

“Me too, girlfriend.” Softly burying himself into the crook of your neck, he let himself murmurs the long waited name he had been dreaming about calling you since the fated day you met.

“Why are you so good to me?”

Much to your perplexity, he chuckled in amusement as if it was something so obvious, clear as day but somehow alluded your understanding.

“Simple. Seeing your smile makes letting things go that much easier. At the end of the day, I know no matter how tumultuous life gets from here on out, I can always count on your smile being the thing that save me. I’ve been at this job for awhile now and it drains me. Ever since you stepped into my life, I go to work with a smile on my face. That’s a lot more than I could ever ask for. An uncomplicated life where I can confidently live because I have love, your love.”

Whispered gleefully, he peeled off pressing a big kiss onto your smiling lips. Letting his eyes fluttered close, head rested on your chest, he let his soul mingled with its possibly life long partner. Mirroring his action, you closed your eyes, letting out a content sigh.

I’m home again.

It’s a bit ridiculous that tonight already marks two years since you let the red strings connecting your existences tangled with each other. You could only guess this is how fast life past when you’re happy. Every second spent with him had been so wondrous that you couldn’t help but be nostalgic on a special night like this. Learning to be with Hanbin had never been hard. He made it so utterly effortless to love him and everything he does. Sitting here, getting all dolled up for another milestone in your relationship, you could barely contain your joy. Who would’ve thought the young boy you bulldozed over so many Christmas ago would become the stars to your night.

“What’s so funny about putting on lipstick, baby? I wanna know! I demand you let your boyfriend know, now!”

As always, high strung and overly excited about the most mundane things you do. Sauntering over from the bathroom, he’s busily cuffing the shirt that had to have been cut for his body because by god, he looks absolutely ravishing. Still marveling at the magnificent person you have the honor of calling your man, you completely ignore the fact that you should’ve been readied by now, and not recalling old memories. Repeating his question once more, he snakes his arms around your torso, pulling you back into a hug.

“I was just remembering old stuff. Do you remember how we met?” You ask, fingers fidgeting with the tub of lipstick in front of his wide doe eyes.

“THAT’S RIGHT!” he exclaims, nearly shock the soul out of you. “You kissed me even before asking for my name! It was this exact color, it was this exact color wasn’t it.” His eyes spark with the utmost delight recalling the fond yet quite literally painful event.

“Oh my god, don’t get so full of yourself. It was an accident. I did not kiss you, mister. My lips just, you know, happened to landed on you chest.”

Glaring hard, you push him off your body but not without resistant. The needy pair of arms still entangling themselves, trying to keep your body close.

“Yea, yea. And marked me, on my brand new white shirt. Is that how you flirt? going around marking devastatingly handsome stranger with lipstick? My bum still hurt thinking about it.”

A cute pout forms on the handsome face. His hand guiding yours, he smooths it over his back side much to your protest.

“Ey, stop fighting. I know you wanna touch my butt. I see you staring, stop acting like you hate it.”

Sending a thunderous smack to his bottom, you pull away to finish your make up, letting yourself lost in the old endearing memories through his words.

It was a day like any other in the cruel cold of December. The road slicked with ice and air bitter with the skin piercing wind. Unlike the rest of the crowd casually strutting the street, enjoying the twinkling lights and the colorful decoration, you stood out like a sore thumb. Racing down the street, you did your best to stay up right. Working a retail job in the make up department had never been easy but something about the tis’ the season to consumerism that made everything a whole lot worse. The rigorous training you were put through meticulously prepared you for absolutely everything and anything, down to zombie apocalypse and the 3 layers thick makeup as per required by the rule. What it didn’t do was prepping for the holiday rush that would make Santa and his elves spin with craziness. Nearly losing an arms and both legs from the constant needy grabbing hands of customers, you were officially delayed another 30 minutes from your usual shift end.

I can walk. What in the world make you think that was a good idea. Ugh

Mocking yourself for turning down you brother’s offer of his car this morning, you teared your eyes away from the impossible sardine packed bus pulling away from the curb, footstep continued fast. Not even having enough time to change or getting rid of the gaudy makeup, all you could think of was getting to class on time. Ignoring the cold whipping your face into numbness and vision darkening, you picked up your speed. Depending on what time it was, there was a slight chance you haven’t missed too much of the class. You hastily pulled your phone out of your pocket just enough to see the soft white numbers on the screen before everything went black

- 6:15 PM -

Groaning loudly, you pushed yourself off the surprisingly soft, warm ground. Still sitting, you dusted yourself off and checked for injury before a sudden intruding thought drawn all the blood from your body.

Wait, we’re dead in the middle of December, on the sidewalk. So why is whatever i’m sitting on so war-

Glancing downward, your face practically burned itself off from the mortifying, awkward position you seemed to have put yourself in. You were neatly perched atop a young stunning guy in red flannel, straddling across just the right part of his body.

“Excuse me, miss. I don’t think my father would approve of this style of behavior from such a proper young lady such as you are. I mean we’ve barely met. I don’t even know your name, yet the position we’re in…”

The most mischievous smirks perked up in between words, yanking you out of the shocked induced silent. The loudest gasp left your mouth as your soul exited your body from the inquisitive eyes and teasing giggles of a few high schoolers passing by. To worsen it all, a few elders struggling around the icy road still had enough time to spare a few disproval shakes of the head.

“SHIT. I am so so so sorry!”

“Now that we’ve established that you’re apologetic, can you maybe let me up?”

Muttered another “sorry”, you hopped off the toned body checking yourself a second round for scruffs and scratches. Your relieved smile faltered as your eyes matched perfectly with the burgundy lip print smacked dab in the middle of his chest, bright contrast against the crisp white shirt hiding under the heavy, long black coat. Another loud gasp left your lungs as your hands clasped tight over your mouth in pure shock. Judging from the way this guy dressed, head to toe in brands, he was made of money. No way in hell would you ever be able to compensate for the damage of ruining his close to godliness shirt that probably costed more than your liver and kidney combined.

Having been so busy examining the small scratch on his hand, his attention snatched away by the air leaving your body.

“Why are you gasping no- Oh, I see.” His voice serious, hands on hips, eyes strained on the lip print.

“Well, someone gotta take responsibility for this here.” The devilishly handsome smirk still presented on his lips as his hand circled the obvious spot. I mean, I was just gonna let you go with a warning. You know, seeing how it’s so close to the holiday, getting my good deed of the year in but now…” Smacking his lips, he gave a regrettable looks.

“I’m so sorry. I, uhh, I’ll do what I can. I mean, you have to excuse me, i’m still in school… I don’t have that much money.”

Your voice trailed off to something dismal, not by the embarrassment of your status that was paled in comparison to the 1% shiningly glaring in front of you but the thought of having done something you would never be able to make up for. Eyes averting his intense gaze, your head dipped low, sighing

“Nah, don’t worry about money. Cash isn’t a problem for me. I really appreciate you being honest with me though, not much of that going around these days.”

As his voice simmered, you could see a cloud of despondency clotted the previously clear eyes as the word “honest” left his teeth. Quickly regaining his quirk, with a clear of the throat, he continued on as though nothing had happened.

“ My reputation is on the line here. I can’t be walking around known as the guy that got marked and run by some strange but quite breathtaking stranger. Come on, the damage is done. Are you really going to leave me here wondering about who you are late at nights when I can’t sleep?”

Both grateful for his nonchalantness on the severity of the damage and bewildered at his eccentric self, the driest chuckle spewed out.

“You’re kidding me. I don’t suppose you want to grab a coffee?”

“Impressive. Cute and a mind reader!”

A heavy slap to your shoulder nearly sent you flying back onto the cold ground. You sighed, pushed out a breathy defeated laugh at his pathetic but somehow cute attempt at a wink, knowing he won this round.

“Man, somebody gotta teach you how to wink. Last I checked, you wink with one eye, not both. You uh get girls with that?”

“Hey, it worked fine for the last 20 years. You owe me, remember? Last I checked, I’m only doing this because you damaged me, alright? Plus, you spilled the one I had.”

Sighing seemed to be your favorite activity of the day because another lungs full of air left your mouth loudly. Eyeing the sad puddle of dark liquid pooling by his feet and the dented cup, you knew there was no way to get out of this. All and all, you were just glad he didn’t asked for something heavier.

“Fine. Just a warning, I’m not made of gold and silver spoon fed like someone here so can we keep the coffee shop on the lower end please. I can’t be going into a life long debt for you.”

You were somewhat done with his teasing words by this point and just wanted to move on with your day.

“Then next time don’t go bulldozing people over then dry hump them in public.”

“I didn- whatever. you’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Smug doesn’t even began to cover the expression that was dancing on the God sculpted features.

“I know I am. Come on, don’t be mad. I’m just having a bit of Christmas cheer. It’s not exactly abundant for me lately. Why were you in such a hurry anyways? if you don’t mind me asking.”

Reality finally settled in, you slapped your forehead in shock.

“Oh fuck, my class. Damn it, stranger. You made me missed my class.”

“It’s Hanbin and you did that all on your own. What do I call you, little clumsy girl?”

He retorted snappily, faked anger radiating from the arms raising as if he’s trying to make himself bigger, as if the almost 6 foot tall towering over you isn’t big enough.

“It’s Y/N and you’re taking responsibility for me failing my class.”

It was his turn to sigh in defeat as there was no backing down for you either. After all, why should you take crap from some guy that for all you know, could be a swindler.

“Fine, fine. How about this? If by the end of your school year and you fail your class. Provided I somehow tolerate your ass for that long without driving myself insane and bet off all my fortune, I’ll do whatever to compensate you. Deal??”

“Deal!” You exclaimed cheerfully taking his large hand for a pinky swear before trudging off toward the small coffee shop you’ve spent countless sleepless nights mulling a cup, or maybe 6, over final study.

“So is it like a normal daily occurrence for you to knock over stranger or is it a one time thing?”

“You’re an idiot, Hanbin.”

Snapping back to reality, you take advantage of the still dazed boy staring at himself in the mirror while grinning like an idiot recalling the fond memory, you smack a big kiss on his cheek. Smirking proudly at the mark left behind, much life the one that started the best friendship you have, you ignore a flailing whining Hanbin complaining loudly about ruining his moment.

“Babe, must you go and mark me all the time? I still haven’t gotten over the fact that I got laughed at that day after coffee with you because you put pink Hello Kitty bandaids all over my hand.”

Groaning loudly, he pushes you out of the way with one swift move to get a closer look in the mirror. Whining like a toddler, his fingers furiously wiping at the dark muted re prints on his pale skin, only he was just making it much worse.

“ You’re such an idiot, would you had rather I left it bleeding everywhere? Your secretaries told me they were just snickering a lil bit, not laughing. Plus what’s wrong with that? You’re mine. Think of it as a warding charm. Lord know how many girls’ and guys’ panties you cream a day just from walking by.”

“Stop calling me idiot. I know I am one sometimes but ugh… Babeeeee!”

“Stop cutting me off. Plus, If I may call the jury attention to exhibit A and B, one criminal known as Kim “lady killer” Hanbin likes to mark me in very dark and cruel and gruesome manners.”

Pulling down the collar of your dress just enough to reveal the blooming shades of crimson, purple, some even yellow along your shoulder blades and collar bones, you cock an eyebrow at him inquisitively, waiting patiently for what the flustering boy has to say. His jaw nearly drop as his fingers abandoning their original task, jetting over to stop yours from stripping down even further.

“Okay, okay, point taken. You know I’m only obsess with you so don’t worry, baby. Even when I close my eyes, only you’re there. No one else.”

Always good at swooning you, Hanbin never fails to say the most endearing sentiments without even having to try.

“I know. And only you shine the brightest in my eyes. It’s just fun to recreate our first moment together now and then. I think the shade is very fitting on your skin, don’t you think so?”

Wiggling out of the hold you have on his head to help wipe off the remnant of crimson, his lips lurch forward, planting a big one on yours before laughing victoriously.

“I think it’s much nicer on you, don’t waste it on my ugly mug.” fingers gently caressing your cheeks, his eyes enthrall in yours as if they hold the secret to the universe as he continues. “I love you so so much. Happy anniversary, babe.”

“I love you too. Here’s to many more together.”

Almost glowing with happiness, you return the favor before gently cleaning the remaining smudges before continuing on with the night.

“Alright, let’s get going. I know I got some serious juice but even I had a hard time getting this reservation for us.”

“Oh Em Gee. Wow. Finally something my great Hanbin struggles with. I never thought i’d live to see the day.” you exclaim loudly and sarcastically knowing full well he hates having the attention on him.

“Hey, no mocking the guy that’s taking you to dinner. Unless you wanna starve, keep it up you little cheeky monkey.”

Raising both hands up, you back away letting him have the lead. Despite promising you no extravaganza this year, you were still greeted with endless amount of flower delivered to your job. You were ready to let him have it when your eyes met with the most beautiful dress, perfectly laid out on your bed next to a handsome suit. On top seated a small note with his chicken scrawl that only you seem to be able to decipher. Quite a few times you received distressing texts from his secretaries, desperate for help in solving the puzzles that were his instruction to avoid the wrath of the already stressed out boss.

“To my ever ethereal girl that had made the last few years of my life out of this world. I love you. I will be expecting you in that dress, tonight at 9PM. Love, your Hanbin.”

Smiling in defeat, you should’ve known better than to take his words. If there was one thing that will never fails to bring the light to his day would be that he get to spoil you anytime he wants. No matter how many time you nagged or tried to stand firm, you always ended up having to console a pouting boy that you just weren’t materialistic, that he only needed to be him for you to be happy. No matter how you flip it, twist it, turn your explanation inside out, his answer, or rather whine, would be the same.

“But babeeee, I can’t help it. If you want me to be me, then let me spoil you. Of course I know you’re not that kind of girl. I just love buying my girlfriend presents. Nothing wrong with that.”

You were so busy letting the soft lace and smooth fabric graces your skin when he skillfully crept out of nowhere, hooking his hands tightly around your waist.

“Do you like it?” He asked softly, knowing he’ll be safe as long as you’re in his arms.

“Baby, what did I say about buying me unnecessary things… How’d you even know I like this dress?” You half nagging but couldn’t denied the fact that you were very happy he paid attention to your interest.

“I have my way. Now go get ready.”

The sudden halt of the car twists your smile into a gasp of amazement, pushing the recent memory out of mind. You raise your eyebrows so high they nearly touch your hairline. Grabbing the outstretching hand that had just open the car door, you were honestly more entice by the flashing dimple beholding in front of you rather than the gleaming sight of the possibly fanciest estate you’ve ever set foot in. Glancing back the way his roaring sport car had just rolled in, you nearly faint just from the grand driveway lines with endless bushes of flower despite it being dead winter.

“Come on, babe.”

Hooking your arm in his, your attention snaps back to the mansion that’s might as well a castle. The impeccable white walls void of even the most infinitesimal speckle of wear and tear from the weather. The great columns holding up the 3 stories high blue roof shine softly in front of endless panes of windows enclosed by golden ornate details. You hadn’t realize coming in but looking back now, the intricate black gate with matching filigree detailed fence is no where to be seen as if the outer edge of a lawn so far out that it dropped off the curve off the Earth. The soft voice of the doorman shakes you back to reality.

“Ah, Mr. Kim. Good to see you again, it has been awhile.”

“Yes, awhile indeed. Good to see you are well.”

It wasn’t often Hanbin brought you to places where he’d be address as Mr. Kim, not because he was ashamed of your status but rather if he himself feels stuffy and uncomfortable in such environment, like a monkey in a suit he puts it. He couldn’t imagine how dull and restricting it must be for such a free spirit as you are.

“Do I have the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Kim today?”

The very well dressed man directs his attention to your still ogling eyes at how magnificent and grand everything was. Hanbin tighten the arm he has around you, the brightest smile you’ve seen, brighter than any of the gold moulding above on the ceiling with a painting you had only seen in your art history class, brighter than the gleaming crystal chandelier that’s more breathtaking than the stars above. You couldn’t help yourself but wear a big smile, though not quite as dazzling as his. The second he caught the cheeky expression on your face, his cheeks redden, a sudden awkward swirl of coughs strew out of his lungs.

“My good man, don’t go and give her any crazy idea now.”

“Right, my apologies. Well, have a good dinner.”

Chuckling at his fumbling words, the well dressed man direct both of you through the biggest set of door you’ve ever seen, so big you were sure they’d need some sort of mechanic to open.

“Hmm… So. I shouldn’t go get any crazy ideas huh, Mr. Kim?“

You somehow manage to tear your eyes away from the marble Imperial staircase, curling and turning along with its golden iron wrought railing leading up to what has to be even more wealth and extravagant you’d probably never see again after tonight.

“No, babe. It’s not like that… I”

“It’s okay. I just want to prepare myself, you know. In case the process to becoming fit for the title Mrs. Kim is going to be a strenuous one. God know there’s a rulebook for that too. You guys have rulebook for everything.”

Seeing the panic stricken eyes, you couldn’t help but taking in the full advantage of the situation.

“Baby, I didn’t mean it like that. I assure you, there’s no rulebook, no process. I.. I just.. Damn it, why is this so hard.”

“Hanbin, calm down. I’m just messing with you a bit. Mrs. Kim sounds perfect.”

Nearly breaking a sweat and ruining his perfectly made hair, you let him off easy. The last thing you need is wrecking his night.

“Really? you mean it?” That brilliant smile was brought back, just like that, this time 10 folds.

“Of course, weirdo. I mean, right now is probably not the best time for marriage but you know it doesn’t hurt to talk about it. Dream a little, for when we’re ready.” Reaching up to fix his tie, you give the reassuring smile he was looking for. His features soften and soon a kiss finds its way to your lips, as sweet as ever. If only you knew what was running through the mind of the boy with the smile of relief on his lips.

With another “I love you” melting away into the air, he escorts you up the palatial staircase to the grand ballroom where endless rows of tables and chairs neatly line themselves up awaiting guests.

Soon before long dinner was over and it’s as mind blowing as you thought it would be. Having a few glances at the lavish dinning room, you will probably never get used to the exorbitant lifestyle the 1% of the 1% lives. Sure you can get dressed up and fake the part but deep down, you love your simple life too much to have such wasteful nights for no reason. Luckily for you, Hanbin and his family are just the same way. Having worked his way up from the bottom, the senior Mr. Kim values hard work and anyone that can live honestly.

The first time you had met the Kim family it was at a place that was better if not at least rivaled this place. They had full service from head to toe, private room, private dinner. Having seen too many drama, you had honestly half expecting one of those awkward dinner scene where his mom would faint because he’s dating some ordinary girl while his dad throws a fit about him marrying the conniving yet beautiful daughter of the rival company.

The actual meeting went astronomically well to the surprise of your nervous heart. His mom was probably the loveliest person in the world. Constantly addressing you by name, complimenting, doting you like her own daughter. It’s not hard to see where he got his caring nature from. His dad, a true entrepreneur, combed you for your life plan, your education, short term goal, the whole shebang. Then there was his little sister, cheeky little monkey but super cute and adorable. The second you practically crawl on the ground to play with her, Hanbin knew everything would be alright, that you would be a perfect fit for their perfect little family. Having discovered your little expectation of how his family would be after you shyly confessed on the car ride home, Hanbin didn’t stop laughing for a good 5 days.

Nearing euphoria, you swear there would be nothing that could dampen your mood now. Stomach full of good food, you sit back and relax waiting for the dessert that Hanbin insisted on ordering despite you protesting with all your might. Knowing full well there would be no fighting the guy, you let him be. After all, it was yours and his special night and you’ll be damn if you ruin it by not having dessert.

Excusing yourself to the lady’s room, you were hoping to walk some of the food off by trekking to the far one you had spotted on your way up. Still at awe with every intricate and unreasonably precious details, you let yourself get lost in the atmosphere, imagining yourself being born as a princess. This must be how Cinderella felt like descending the staircase at the castle. You had thought when a sudden intrusion pierce through your veil of happiness, shattering it like a measly eggshell under the weight of an elephant.

It was a voice. A voice unlike any other. This was the voice that had you lost in the deepest of space during rainy nights while entangled between sheets. The same one that felt like spring when it sounded out your name so lovingly and effortlessly when picking you up from work, shredding all your exhaustion to bits. You thought it would haunts you for the rest of your life when it left you alone, and lost in more ways than one in a half empty apartment. One that would eventually, even though painstakingly slow, got replaced with the voice of Hanbin.

For a split second, it was as though your whole body got thrown into the vortex of time, traveling at incredible speed back to those days struggling over assignment deadlines. You could be in an amnesia and could still recognize that gentle voice and infectious laugh anywhere. Cold sweat breaking, you frantically search through the streams of people laughing and everything halts to a stop. Faintly, the voice bursts out with color while everything else was black and white in slow motion like an old school silent film. Faster than lightening, you spin in place, frantically searching for the source before a firm hand snaps you back to reality.

“Are you okay, Miss? I can go get Mr. Kim for you.”

Clearing your throat, you open your eyes to see the well dressed man from earlier with a concerning look on his face.

“No, I’m alright. Just thought I saw a ghost from the past, that’s all.”

Giving a weak smile, you try your best to sell your lies to the young man. If the voice belong to who you think it does, you’re far from being okay but it’d be the end of the world before you risk ending Hanbin’s perfect night, your perfect night.

“Well, I’ll be on my way then. Have a good night!”

Whispering a well wish for the rest of his night, you part way, trudging back up the stair, back to your love.

“There you are. I was sure you had climbed out the window and left me with the bill. You alright, baby?”

Pressing your hands against your cheeks, you could still feel the frost of the blood leaving your body from your spectral encounter moments ago.

“I’m fine. I saw the balcony and wanted to peek outside a bit. It got a bit cold. Did you know there’s a freaking lake and a big garden in the back? Blown my mind there.”

Rambling on in hope of hiding your fear, you dig into the dessert without warning.

“Oh. Come on. I waited for you like half an hour and now you steal all my sweet.”

Another half hour of bickering and the voice was completely washed out of your mind. That’s how your relationship had always been with Hanbin. No matter how, what life throws at you, he seemingly fixes it without any problem. He has this strange capability of just blanking out your mind of all worries.

Finally exiting the great dinning hall, you snuggle up close to his side, completely blissful and unaware of the incoming ice berg of problem that even Hanbin might not be able to fix this time.

“Y/N?”

No. Not now. Why is the voice so clear now and why was it calling your name. Staring up at Hanbin, that expression, he must’ve heard it too as his face stiffen, eyes immediately search for yours.

“Y/N? Hanbin?”

Tearing away from looking at each other, you both finally look up toward the person that’s making your dinner dances excitingly in your stomach right now waiting to be regurgitate.

“It’s been awhile, hasn’t it. Good to see you two.”

Hanbin smiles first.

“Son Hyunwoo. Wow. It’s great to see you, and here out of all the place. This must mean you’re quite successful now, yes?”

You’re still frozen on the spot, arms clutching onto Hanbin as if you’d drown the second he lets go. There he was. The owner of the ghost voice you thought you’d purged of. Yet here he stand, still as handsome as ever, tall and well built. Hell, well built is probably an understatement. Even under that trench coat and the suit that was much more of Hanbin’s style than the Hyunwoo you remember, you could still mentally trace out the dip and the curve of his muscles.

The crinkles in the corner of his eyes. The way his eyes shy away into crescents when those thick lips smile charmingly revealing the tiniest gap in between his front teeth. The strong eyebrows. The tan skin. Everything was just as you remember except it wasn’t. It’s like there’s a more seasoned, a sense of maturity flourishing in the way he speaks, the way he carries himself.

“Nah, nothing compare to you. How are you, Y/N?”

Ah, one thing remains the same. The way his eyes soften when he looks at you…

“I…I’m fine. You?”

Cringing a bit inside, you cuss at yourself for being so pathetic and meek finally meeting him after so long. You had vowed that when you finally meet again, you’ll show him that you’re good, that you’re better but judging from your performance now, you wouldn’t be able to fool a 3 years old let alone Son Hyunwoo.

“Good, good. I had a company meeting tonight.” He mutters, letting his eyes fall onto the intimacy between your body and Hanbin’s. There it was. That awkward head scratch he does whenever he’s unsure about something. Taking the chance, you speak up, this time clear and concise.

“It’s our 2nd anniversary.”

“I see. Well, I’ll let you guys be on your merry way. It was really good to see you two, let’s meet again soon. Happy anniversary.”

If you didn’t know any better, you would say that last bit didn’t want to leave his teeth, trying its best to cling on and never escape. Hanbin stares back at you, graceful smile twinkles on his lips as he pats your cheek. You know exactly what he was doing. After all, he was there when you had your heart ripped out by the man lost in nostalgia that is now disappearing into the background, eyes closely staring at his own ghost` walking off into the night under someone else’s arm.

“I’m fine, babe. I have you now.”

You whisper, nudging his side when the million dollars question fails to come out of his lips.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything.”

“Yes you were. You know I hate being ask if I’m okay. You got scare I might kick your butts if you ask, weren’t you. That’s why you kept trying to telepathically communicate with me cause if you didn’t say it out loud, I can’t do anything.”

“Ugh, you got me, right in the heart. Now let’s go home. I’m cold, I need a good cuddle.”

Clutching his chest, Hanbin swing his body dramatically as if he had been shot for real, successfully in pulling out your laugh. You quickly wrap yours arms around his flailing body, not so much out of embarrassment but the guilt of the crowd having to witness the usually private cheesy banter between you and him. Once a few derisive pairs of eyes from a group of older ladies bore into your bodies, you both cough to clear the air before walking off, still snickering. Having a quick laugh just as the valet pulls up his car, he opens the car door and helps you in before getting in himself.

Once the air settled and the excitement gone, you stare at the passing street light, orange alternating dark patches of shadow, hypnotizing you into a trance of the past.

“Baby! Babe!”

“Huh? Where are we?”

You glance back at him, then out the windows. The grand manor befitting of Jay Gatsby was now far gone, the road speckles with snow mix in with slurries of lights from the vision damaging neon signs of the city.

“5 min from home. Are you sure you’re okay.”

“Yea. I’m good. Just a lil tired, can’t wait to crawl into bed with you.”

Oh how the night had started off so fitting of the occasion but now, all the pouring memories were that of something so different. You had let the past half hours drive lost upon memories that were at one point, happy. Now it resembles more of the old box of trinkets and junks from high school that you had tucked away in the attic for so long that it is simple what it is, old memories. By all mean, you would never wish for the time you spent with Hyunwoo to go away. Him leaving didn’t damage nor does it make it any less valuable. It’s sometimes, memories just shouldn’t be dig up.

From the first moment your eyes met his from across the Greco pillars and delicate trimming of the grand library in your school, you were infatuated. He stood out magnificently even against the sea of zombie state induced by the upcoming finals. Not just by his size, which good God the guy was practically a giant, but by something beyond physical attraction. There was something intriguing about the stature that could put Hercules to shame, hunching softly over the large marble table that held a few notebooks, scribbling away without care in the world. His movement so soft, so nimble that you couldn’t fathom how such a muscular guy could be so fluid; This was something he went on to prove was possible beyond the shadow of a doubt when he took you to dance practice later on in the relationship. You hadn’t thought much once the glorious view was blocked by some bloke sitting down across from him. It was final time and the last thing you need was to be enamored with some random guy you weren’t even sure would be around after this quarter. Little did you know, fate had a funny way of intertwining people’s lives, or perhaps it was just bored with watching the Earth turns. Not even 5 minutes later when you were engulfing yourself under the mountains of study, the most angelic voice tickled your eardrums, drawn your attention back to the real world.

“I’m so so sorry to bother you but by any chance, are you close to finish with that book? All the copies are checked out and you’re the first person I see with it…”

“Not really… I just checked it out.” You said regrettably, half hoping he’d stay.

“Uhm, would you mind if I share it with you? I hope I’m not being too forward… I’m Hyunwoo.”

His smile so timid and face so gentle, as oppose to the tone physique, broad shoulders, thick arms and strong legs that were now towering over your small slumping form. What are the freaking odds. You were in a 4 stories library, holding probably close to a thousand souls and he needed the book you were holding.

“Not at all, if you promise to help me.” You had said, soaking in the warmth of the handsome stranger. Within minutes, you both found yourselves abandoning study to chat about life, about each other. By the end of that hour, you had found yourself smiling for absolutely no reason while basking in the smooth tan skin that was glowing softly in the dim winter’s sun, hoping his smile was because of you. A week passed and you were sitting on his lap at a Christmas gathering of some friends you found to have in mutual. Being the sweet gentle giant that he is, never once did he reject your attempt of snuggling up to his body for warmth even if it meant he had to hold your sleepy form for hours during your long naps.

His mannerism, his touch, the way he speak, everything about Hyunwoo was so soft and surreal. Whenever you were near, his muscular arm instinctively wrapped around your body, disregarding of who was watching or where you were. He just knew that he wanted you as close to him as possible, why he had yet to figure out. Month ending and neither of you could step foot anywhere without the big question pestering from every direction. “Why the hell aren’t you two official yet?”

The answer to that question came a mere 6 months after that day in the library, one particularly sweltering hot June night. To everyone else it was just a day like any other but for you, it had been special up until a slam of the door shattering all your plan. Your usually understanding teddy bear had stormed off in a fit of anger, leaving you to cry in frustration.

The night before, having sat through half an hour of an especially pretty girl snaking her arms around the man you couldn’t call yours, you finally had enough when those delicious full lips failed to put up any fight when she closed in on them. The rare side of you, the sarcastic jerk he loved to hate, came out. He made the big mistake of being a gentleman, checking on you after you huffed home in a fit of fury. You let it came down like a tsunami, taking your full rage out on him not even caring that you had no ground to stand on, no reason why you should be furious in the first place. He was completely single and 100% not yours to be possessive about.

You sat on your bed now, finger toying with the small pink ribbon so neatly curled atop the small box with “Happy Birthday, Hyunwoo” written in the corner. You let your mind ran wild, imagining his big biceps wrapping around her petite frame. Her long pastel pink locks sway softly as he twirls her around in a dance. He was the embodiment of a dance god. You had never seen anyone moved with such grace and power. No matter what the song was, he was always one with the music. Your overactive imagination ran all the way to how she’d snuggles up close to his side, head resting on his firm pecs, finger grazing that tone hard abs, you had felt over his shirt too many times through his bear bug but never were lucky enough to touch, as they blow out the candles.

Unbeknown to you, a few tears had made their way down your cheeks, hanging precariously on the line of your jaw. Sighing softly, you finally let yourself admit to the God above that you fell hard for the impossible man.

Heaving off your bed, you had intentionally waited till it was closer to the last stroke of 12 to pay a visit, hoping everyone would be one drink too wasted to notice. As you drawn closer to the familiar patch of grass, you could hear the music thumping, party at its peak inside. Letting the overbearing sound of cheers erupting inside drowned out your senses, you quietly let your sadness dripped out, slipping the small box into his mailbox.

“Happy birthday, Hyunwoo. I hope you get everything you wish for.”

Letting yourself lingered for a moment, you whispered softly before turning away.

“I really thought you weren’t gonna show.”

Shocked frozen, you stood there lamenting over how your well thought out plan could’ve failed so miserably. You had been so preoccupied with hiding that you never noticed the figure lurking about the front porch, or the pair of eyes that was watching your action closely, or the footsteps drowned out by the screaming party goers.

Hyunwoo pulled you into a tight embrace, flushing your body tight against his. You knew fighting would be futile so you stood there, limp in the back hug you had missed so so much.

“How could I? It’s my best friend’s birthday after all. What kind of person would I be if I missed out?”

Your voice meek and sorrowful, barely abled to contain the sob within.

“Then how come it looked like you were leaving with out saying hi?”

No energy to fight, you silenced yourself, letting the soundless tears drop freely. Not wasting any more precious time, he easily spun you around wiping away the tears. Reaching to secure the small present you had left him and with you in tow, he made his way through the small path that lead tot he back of his house. Caging you against the hidden corner, Hyunwoo let his eyes traced out every edge, every curve of your face as if it’d be the last time he sees you. Without much warning, he lowered himself and pressed the most delicate kiss onto your stinging lips.

“I love you.”

He whispered. Returning for second, he moulded his lips against yours, devouring them in a flurries of passion. His hands grab onto whatever part of your body they could. He needed to feel you, to be so close to you that this kiss could barely satisfied his craving. Under the sky full of star with the soft summer breeze that hardly alleviated the heat radiating from both shiny slick full of sweat bodies, sticky from the heat, he let his love poured out like a mantra in between kisses.

“God, I thought I was gonna have to spend my birthday all alone. I’m so glad you’re here.”

Hand cupping his jaw, you managed to push him off just enough to gasp for a lungs full of air before his lips reattached itself to your jaw.

“There’s literally a house full of people celebrating inside, all for you. Hyunwoo, Hyun-”

You voice lost upon the harsh kiss blooming on your neck that was making its way to your collar bones.

“So? Plus, none of those bastards noticed i’ve been out here waiting for you the last hour or two. You would’ve run after me immediately.”

The kiss had somehow made it down to the bare shoulder that he had flicked the strap of your tank top off and was now trailing back to your ear once again. One hand on the small of your back rubbing circle, the free one landed on the wall with a loud thud, supporting the needy boy.

“Honestly if you hadn’t shown up when you did, I was gonna run over to your house. I couldn’t stand how I left you, how we left things off. I’m so sorry I ran off like that. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

Finally the long kiss stopped as his face beamed brighter than the moon and stars above, eyes staring at yours lovingly.

“I’m really sorry about how I acted. I hope you understand, if it was me rubbing up and kissing some other guy, wouldn’t you be jealous?”

His eyes darken at the thought of you being on someone else’s lap, you had to say it scared you a bit how fast his expression flipped. No longer was he your gentle giant. His hand return to your jaw firmly, but not tight as to hurt you. the other hand still planted firmly against the wall but was now balling into a fist, knuckles white from being squeezed so hard. Without much warning, the lips that were being chewed to bit lurched toward yours, consuming them, leaving you seeing stars.

Taking the hint, your hand moved away from his back to caress those chocolate bar abs you had dreamed about many nights you were forced to entertain yourself. The other one played with the hem of his shirt coyly, pooling it up just enough for your index to have a go at his smooth skin. Moans filled the air as his hands grab at your ass before he broke contact just long enough for him to inconspicuously pulled you up to his bedroom.

With a click of the door’s lock, he crashed onto the bed along with you, lips wasting no time finding themselves back onto your body.

“I don’t want to ever see or hear or think about someone else’s hand on you, understood?”

Softly nodding, it didn’t take long before you were skin to skin, swaying to the rhythm of the night, letting each other’s names fell out like prayers. It must’ve been hours because his absent was finally noted judging from the banging on his door.

“Yah, Son Hyunwoo. Are you in there? YAH, why is the door lock.”

You nearly had a heard attack when the voice grew louder, banging quicken. Your attempt of getting up thwarted by his lips and his never ceased thrusting.

“Damn, who are you hiding in there, H?”

“Ignore them, baby.” He raggedly murmured against your lips, muffling the uncontrollable moan and desperate calls of his name when he suddenly picked up speed.

Laid back down finally once the slurring voice trailed off, mumbling about Hyunwoo probably getting his “birthday wish in”, you let him have his way again and again. Not like you minded anyways. Paradise reached, you rested on his chest, breathless still as he slowly open the box you failed to deliver without notice. Inside, two small silver bracelets shining under the moonlight peering into the blush inducing scene of naked bodies from the small crack in his window’s curtain. Examining it closely, a small but heartfelt smile crept onto the face that was now lacked of all the lust and roughness of earlier. Whispering the engraving softly, he stared back at you in confusion.

“3:29? What is it, baby.”

“The exact time I met my gentle giant.”

His smile radiated as he motioned for you to put the bigger bracelet on him, and he fasten the smaller one on yours. Pulling you into another bone crushing hug, his mood lifted significantly.

“Alright, let’s clean up. I still need to introduce my girlfriend to everyone.”

Hyunwoo’s voice fades away as you let the start of one relationship drifted off into the wind as the renewal of another one was coming to an end, you peel your body off the front seat and fall into Hanbin’s arm.

Ripping off his jacket and haphazardly throwing it onto the floor, you press your lips against his neck, trailing your way up. His hands quickly find their way to unzip your dress just in time before his whole body flies onto the bed from your pushing. You hike up your dress just enough to entice his attention but not enough to reveal your intimates, he groans frustratingly when you situate yourself on his lap.

“Happy anniversary, baby.”

You breathes before lifting the dress off of your body, letting him bask in the dips and curves of your body before feeling up his. Lowering yourself onto his troubled lower half, you let your lips and tongue stroke, then touch him just the ways he likes to be. Low grunts, sexy growls pour from his lips from your ministration. Prying you off his body, he swiftly flips you over onto your back while hovering above you precariously.

“Happy anniversary to us.”

He smiles charmingly before lowering himself, letting his frustration out on your body. Moans mix with the sound of skin contact rip the silent of the peaceful night to shred. Your name then his name taking turn mingling in the air like the most beautiful dance as you both reaching your nirvana. Coming back down from heavens of bliss, sleep graces his being while you’re not as fortunate, brain overloading with the image of your ghost.

So many nights since Hyunwoo returned you had to rely upon the healing nature of the soft beams floating so gracefully around the air for comfort but tonight, not even the soothing silvery light of the man in the moon could obliterates your pain. Pressing a kiss to his lips before carefully sliding off the bed, you pull Hanbin’s shirt over your pale from the cold body before slipping away to the living room. Quietly keeping your 3rd glass of wine company, you could smell the troubles afoot. Something had been brewing deep in your chest since that day, aching for release.

Hyunwoo and Hanbin, the only two men you had ever truly love. They were the oxymorons in your mundane, predictable life. Hyunwoo while being the soft and gentle teddy bear he was, his love always felt like a big never ending roller coaster, jetting about at 100 miles an hour. You had gotten so, so high that it felt almost feverish. Where as Hanbin’s kind and sweet-tempered love feels like an adventure through the calms of nature despite his upbeat and cheeky self.

Completely opposite of the seeming eternity Hanbin had to spent convincing you that it was okay to love again, your heart beat for Hyunwoo almost immediately after meeting his smile that one afternoon freshman year. It was a miracle really that you had lasted 6 months before professing your undying love to one another. He dated you aggressively, knowing exactly where he wanted you to be - in his arms with a ring on your finger. Hanbin, the poor boys had to suppressed his love for the sake of your fragile heart.

Much of your first date with Hyunwoo was spent with you in his lap, soaking in that addicting musk cologne, reading quietly on the couch. Soon enough, you had found yourself spending countless rainy days stealing each other blanket, sharing warm heat of skin, silently but contently flipping pages. Much of the 3 years relationship with Hyunwoo involved spending down time together in the coziness of his home. Whether it be using you as weight on his back to push up or fighting over who’s a better cook, you knew this was where you wanted to end your life, who you wanted to end your life with.

Within a few moon cycles, you had moved in with him with a promising life ahead. College was tough but you made it through together. Even when you were stressed out of your mind, unreasonably angry at everything and anything, Hyunwoo was there with his big arms and comforting embrace to hold you through despite having to go through the same finals, the same stress. He made you felt like home.

There wasn’t much that could go wrong with this rock solid relationship… That was until graduation date drew closer. Fights after fights about who was moving where and what was going to happen to the “us” that you and him had worked on protecting for so long. Slowly, the fight stop being about a solution but a pity comparison match about who was going to have to give up more.

The quiet of the home slowly turned agonizing. Doors were slammed, feet were stomped. Until one day, everything was inaudible. Dead air swirled.

“Hyunwoo ah, I’m tired.”

You had remembered sitting on the floor of the living room, exasperation poured out from every crevice of your body, eyes bloodshot and swollen from crying for so long.

“Me too…”

You had remembered him responding in a weak voice, the vibrant spark dulled by the exhaustion of the constant fights.

You knew you couldn’t leave your family, your life behind to move to a completely new country with no promise of a career. You weren’t young or naive enough to throw everything away in the name of love anymore. No, you were too realistic for that. However, that didn’t mean that Hyunwoo had to do the same.

Hyunwoo knew he couldn’t ask you to abandon everything for the price of him, not when the relationship was in this state. Had it been the beginning, he would without a blink of the eyes, ask you to marry him and move away but it wasn’t the beginning. It was the end.

Timidly pushing an envelop onto his lap, you averted your eyes at the chance you couldn’t stay strong, couldn’t hold back the tear. Clutching the single plane ticket you had gotten him as a parting gift, he broke down knowing full well what this meant.

“Baby, I know how much I mean to you. But I also know how hard you worked for your degree, for this job. There’s no solution to this where we’d both be content. I fear the day when I look into your eyes and I see resentment, or the other way around.”

His hand found its resting place on your shoulder while his sob travelled to your ears.

“Go. Live the life you meant to have. Don’t you dare let anything, anyone hold you back. Don’t you dare let me hold you back. If, God, this is so hard. I-If I’m lucky enough to meet you in the future, I better see you in your own penthouse, in your own top floor office.”

Tears. Tears and sobs were all that was heard for the rest of that week before he had packed up and left the shared place that held so many memories of the precious love you had. You both shared a painful goodbye before like the cloud, he flew off to his own line of destiny. The half empty apartment was like a knife stabbing you every time your eyes met the spots where Hyunwoo used to sit, where you used to love you. Soon enough, you, too were gone from the space, leaving the good memories, the laugh to dissipate with the turn of time.

Where Hyunwoo left off, Hanbin picked up the slack. He became more than just your guardian angel. Having met him a mere 6 months before everything in your perfect life snatched away, Hanbin watched over you like a big brother once he knew you were taken. No hidden motive, just pure care in exchange for friendship. See, different from the carefree life you and Hyunwoo had being university students, Hanbin was thrown into the cold corporate world early on in life. True friends were something of a rare beast in his life. Even with the few friends he had, there would be the constant doubt and distrust that come with being son of the CEO of the top 3 biggest company in the country. Having been raised as the successor, he was taught to question everything and everyone.

Living an isolated life took a toll on his heart. He closed himself off, craving for genuine human affection. After having found out his best friend had only interest in positions in the company, heartbroken and betrayed, he wandered the cold street with coffee in hand, hoping for any sort of distraction. It all seemed worthless but alas.

“A star fell out of the sky, knocking the wind out of me.”

Something he’d tell anyone he deemed worthy of meeting you. You weren’t afraid to hurt his feeling. You called him on his bullshit like it is. You didn’t treat him like he was woven from the dainty threads of gold. You treated him as a human, any other guy that had came into your life. Something refreshing in his life of being worship.

He had admitted many times that his initial interest was killed when he learned of Hyunwoo’s present in your life but he couldn’t care less. He needed someone to keep him grounded, a true friend. Watching you nearly died from being separated from Hyunwoo, his admiration for the kind of sincere, natural love you both had for each other turned into something more.

So many nights rocking your weary body to sleep, he became addicted to your scent, obsessed with the way you giggle, fell in love with your spirit. He wasn’t forthcoming at first, fearing he might ruined what he had built with you. Weeks turned into months and one cold only night, when he felt you were finally abled to stand up on your own, he shared a kiss with you under the starry night and it felt like all the puzzle pieces of his life all fell in place. In a moment of perhaps weakness, or maybe the wondrous sight of shooting stars above, you let him take control of your life and kissed back.

Hanbin, always caring Hanbin. He knew better. He knew that something like what you had with Hyunwoo just doesn’t go away that easily. He knew you needed time.

“I know you love him. You know i’ve always admire you guys but if you’re willing, let me heal you. I know it sound so terrible. Who’d want love from a broken person like myself but all I need is one chance. When you’re ready.”

Having spent so much time indoor with Hyunwoo, though not by choice but by financial, time with Hanbin was always a big surprise. One day it was camping by the lake, the next some trip to an island you had only dream about.

Slowly, that kind smile and the soft touch ignited something in your heart. After a good year and a half of steady, never wavering love, you finally felt at home again.

Curling up against the big couch, you nurse your headache along with the emptying wine while a pair of watchful eyes monitor every change in your expression, completely unknown to you. With a heavy sigh, Hanbin returns to his bed, the one he awoken from alone and cold without your body for the 5th time this week. He could always read you like the back of his hand and

how foolish he was to let you off so easy with just an “I’m okay” after seeing the love of your life reappearing after so long. For the first time in years his feeble heart drowns in fear. It wasn’t like you had broke up with Hyunwoo because he cheated. It wasn’t if your love had withered and died like a rose in the poison of winter. You both merely tucked away your feeling knowing it was better off parting way to reserve your love rather than let it be taint with fights and bitter words. You and Hyunwoo had fought a hard battle and it was just time to given in to the hand of fate. Hanbin had tremendous respect for your decision to let go because letting go isn’t always a sign of weakness. It was a sign that you both were strong enough to sacrifice yourself for the betterment of the other. And who was he? He was just a 3rd person come swooping in on your vulnerability. Letting his weight sinks down on the soft bed, he lays wide awake, trepidation grows. Would he have enough strength to let you go? He wasn’t sure, but for now, all he needs is for you to be close to his heart.

Trudging up the stair back to your own little cozy nest, your steps heavy. Whether it’s from the wine seeping through your body or your thought, you didn’t know. With every kiss and longing stare, Hanbin take root further in your heart. The memories of Hyunwoo wasn’t replaced or dispelled. Hanbin simply helped you wrapped everything up in a neat box and tucked it away. It was time to move on and that’s exactly what you did…

Seeing his face, hearing his name was like having a rambunctious raccoon tear through the box, dragging it out of the dark attic into sunlight. This feeling of overwhelming fear and pain was something you thought you had left behind the second you vowed to be with Hanbin. Along with pain, something indiscernible. Something that terrifies you. Something that was like the incoming storm, you could clearly see the black cloud at the end of the horizon yet you didn’t know whether i’d be here today, tomorrow, or simply veer off course and never to be seen again.

No doubt your love for Hanbin is real. Fights are scarce with Hanbin but the only two times that it did, it felt like all your heartstrings were being cut, one by one. All you wanted was to be back in his arms, to hear him speak, to kiss him as soon as possible. But this unsettling rising up in your heart like a heartburn… All your thoughts halted the second you see his face, illuminating softly, deep in thought.

“Babe! what are you doing up still. You have work tomorrow.”

“I could ask you the same thing, missy. Dressing flimsy like that, wandering around.” he sasses you back before pulling the cover back motioning for you to come lay down.

“I couldn’t sleep, my brain is too full. And F.Y.I. Mister, I work late tomorrow. Unlike your butt who has a meeting at 7:30.”

“Fine, fine. Lay down so I can steal some body heat. So naggy. I feel bad for the guy that has to put up with you… oh, wait. damn.”

His little joke earned him a loud smack to the chest before you obediently lay back down to join him for a little slumber. Amazingly, just with one stupid joke, he got you smiling like it’s nobody’s business. You bid him goodnight with a quick kiss and let sandman takes over, oblivious of the worries so obvious on your boyfriend’s face.

It was another few weeks of the same routine. Like a vampire, both yours and his weariness was creature of sleepless nights, tossing and turning before retreating back behind that mask of smile once the sun kiss the world. Your storm was no longer of uncertainty at this point but imminent.

It started out just as any other ordinary night would. The sun had set and you pack up, another work day finished. Albeit tired, you drive to the nearby grocery store, hoping to cook something before going to meet him in the office. Your night time meet ups were another thing that you both kept from your platonic days despite seeing each other every night at home and spending every morning getting ready for work together.

Food packed and ready to go, you blissfully unaware, walking straight into the end of another chapter in your life. Hanbin had always been good at hiding his emotion but just how good, you’re about to find out.

“Helloooo~ is my handsome boyfriend done working yet? I made dinner!”

You sing-song your way into his office, that million dollar smile greets you, immediately washing away all your exhaustion.

“YYYes! I was hoping you’d cook today instead of take out.”

Pushing all his documents close, he stands up stretching his long body out before slumping down next to you.

“Why didn’t you call me? What if I had bought food instead?”

You barely had the chance to say before he presses kisses everywhere.

“You work late today, I didn’t wanna be a bother but it worked out anyways.”

At lightening speed, he let go of you while simultaneously diving into the food. Something is off. Something so small you could barely detect it but at the same time it gnaws at the back of your mind. He leans onto you even when he eats, something he usually doesn’t do. You both love to cling onto each other but weren’t one of those couple that had to be attach at the hip to survive. The way he talks, how he would occasionally pecks your lips even when you got a mouth full of food. Every now and then, his hand would dig into your hair, ruffling it a bit. Whatever it was, it has to be good if he’s in such a good mood to talk constantly while eating. Chalking it up to your imagination again, you laugh along and push off your worries.

Stomach full of food, Hanbin sprawls onto the couch, head resting on you thigh.

“Baby, pet my hair.”

“What?”

“Pet my hair. You play with my hair a lot when we watch TV.”

Not questioning him, you lace your fingers gently through his locks, combing gingerly at his scalp. His eyes flutter close and a soft smile dances on his lips. After a good 10 minutes of silent, everything feels a bit too unsettling for your liking.

“You’re so clingy today. Not that I don’t like it, just it’s not normal.”

“It’s because tonight is the last night I get to be your boyfriend.”

The sentence left his lips so effortless, so peaceful as if he had thought it over many time, said it many time before tonight. Your heart inflates itself to the max, could this be it? Were he going to ask the thing you had hope he would for months now? Your joy only magnifies when he got up and pull you close, holding on so tight. Your arms instinctively throw around his shoulder, one hand laces through his soft hair.

“Huh? What do you mean?” You feign ignorant, suppressing your joy as he stay still, serene emanating from his restful form. He remains silent. It wasn’t till another ten minutes had passed before he finally speaks up.

“This is the last time I’m going to be selfish and keep you to myself. Tomorrow… Tomorrow I’m sending you back to him, baby. When the sun comes, I’m gonna have to go so at least for now, I could hold you close.”

Your smile falters and your heart drops to the darkest pit. As if your soul was rejecting what he had just said, you push his body away without even needing to command as pain washes over your expression. What shocks you the most is the calm in his manner, like the lead actor of a well rehearsed show, your reaction did nothing to faze him.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“It’s okay, babe. It’s okay. It’s time to let me go, Y/N.”

“You…No! no, no, no. What the fuck are you saying, Hanbin?”

He reaches for you but your body jerks backward defensively, as if his fingers were dipped in poison, anger rising fast like a volcano. Your rejection is the thing that finally put a chip in the well constructed facade Hanbin had put up. Never once did he reach for you and not feel love in return. Then again, never once did you think he could hurt you like this.

“I know you still think about Hyunwoo… I can see it in your eyes. I see the vacant looks on your face now and then, in the rare quiet moment we had. It wasn’t always there, which I’m thankful for, but ever since he came back…”

Despair, you reach for him, this time, for the first time since you met, he didn’t respond. Instead, he lets his eyes fall onto the floor, a dejected smile lingers.

“You know, I tried to be okay, I tried to be selfish because I want you, I need you. I, I know sooner or later, you’ll figure all this out on your own and i’d have to let you go anyways so I decided…”

“No, Hanbin. Please, don’t finish that sentence. Baby, please… Don’t do this to me.”

You beg and beg but it alas, he had prepared for this… With a painful smile, he rips your heart in half.

“ I decided that I’ll let you go. So, it’s okay, baby. It’s time to let me go. I’m breaking up with you now.”

“You can’t, Hanbin. I love you. How could you not see it?”

Your whole body went into shock, as if it had just gotten thrown in the frigid water of the North Pole. You couldn’t fathom the day when your love fails, the day it ceased to be the answer to his problem.

“I know you do. Of course I see it, baby. But it just, I know in your heart, after all this time, I’m not the only one…” His voice dims out, hesitant as if he hadn’t say it aloud, it wouldn’t be true. “Hyunwoo had always been there. He has always been there, just merely repressed.”

“Hanbin… You don’t know that…”

“That night you had the nightmare… You called, you called for him. Y/N, you called for Hyunwoo, not me.”

“Oh God, I’m s- I’m so sorry. Hanbin, I’m so sorry. I…”

Your tears drowns out the rest of the words, jumble up all your brain. The thought of Hanbin laying next to you, having to hear the name of another man spewing out of your mouth breaks your heart. You couldn’t bear the though of even seeing him being near other girls… Yet you called for Hyunwoo, the one person Hanbin knows he will always lose out to.

“Don’t worry, love. I’m not mad. I know it’s hard for you but you gotta start being honest with yourself. God, you two were match made in heaven. Still is. I know you still love him. The kind of love you two had, you just don’t forget it that easily.”

He sits there, an understanding smile infects the air with its serene. Unsure of what to say, each of his word is a big knife to your chest yet at the same time, it’s almost healing. That big pressure built up inside your chest finally got crack wide open, leaving your raw, bleeding heart light and relieved.

“Why couldn’t you just leave it be, Hanbin? Why, why are you doing this to me? We’re so good together. I love you so much.”

“And I don’t doubt that, not even for a microsecond. I see it in your eyes. The way they twinkle when you smile at me. Or when you say you love me, there’s just this ethereal light behind them. The excitement in your voice, the sparks coming off your fingers every time they laid upon my skin. I know you love me, so don’t you dare even question yourself, alright? Don’t you dare blame yourself or feel guilty. You’ve given me everything you got, everything you were capable of giving.”

The rain from your eyes, torrential. You could barely hold yourself up any longer as anguish settles in, you slump over, burying your face into the lines of your palms. For the first time in years you both went more than 10 minutes with no contact as he still shy away on the opposite end of the couch, leaving you to fend for yourself.

“I tried to be strong, be okay for you but then I realized, hiding my heart, it’s not something feasible. Every prick you feel, every beat your heart skip, I can feel it too because my heart is not my own anymore, babe. It’s yours, it’s ours. It’s so much easier just being ignorant of what it’s feeling but I think at this point, we’re both in too deep for that.”

He reaches over as he always does when you’re hurting, but the warmth never came. His hand fell short of your shivering, shaking form. It kills him seeing you sitting there so fragile and cold but that’s alright, he thought. He had convinced himself that you didn’t need him anymore, that maybe it was better for you to cry without him. Or maybe he just wanted to be selfish, to save himself from missing you, to spare himself the pain knowing that from here on out, when you cry, it won’t be him that come to the rescue. With a despondent sight, he continues.

“If you beat yourself up over this, you’re insulting me and my love for you. So don’t, baby. What we have, or had was just as real as the sun in the sky. I’ve been watching you wrestled nights after nights with your inner demon and it breaks my heart. My love for you should be warm and fuzzy but lately, all it seems to do is roughen and beat you up. So it’s okay, baby. It’s okay to go to him, that’s the only way we’ll be able to save our beautiful relationship… That’s the only outcome I’ll accept.”

Having all your thoughts laid out on the table by the man you love most is possibly the worst feeling in the world. All these thought you’ve hidden. All the debate you were scare to bring up. As expected of Hanbin, he was always one step ahead of your every need. Hearing his words, your heart finally breathe. With a gasp for air after drowning for so long, you finally learn what the indiscernible feeling was and why it was so terrifying… It was the breaking of Hanbin’s heart and you’re the cause.

“I will never be able to live with myself knowing that I hold you back from knowing for certain if Hyunwoo is who you truly belong with or not. Your hands were forced, cards were dealt and you both ended things the best way you could. When hearts are forced to part way, there will always be unresolved feelings, unanswered questions. You have to understand, these, these questions affect me just as much as it does you or Hyunwoo. How could I live and be happy knowing a small part of you will always wonder what if you had stayed. What if he hadn’t move? I think that’s the reason why, after all these years, Hyunwoo still belong in your heart.”

You’re lost for words. No matter how hard you try to reason with yourself, to deny it with all your might, Hanbin speaks the truth. Fact of the matter is, you know deep inside the most secluded corner of your heart, Hyunwoo had always been lurking in the shadow waiting for his time to shine. Nothing compares to the lost of first love, especially when it was taken away forcibly by the cruel hands of fate. Then there was the guilt. Oh how guilty you were of snuggling up to Hanbin while letting your mind raced about someone else. The guilt of disappointing Hanbin, of being unfaithful to the man that had given you everything. The guilt of the horrifyingly high possibility that all of Hanbin’s word is true.

“What ifs are what they are for a reason, baby. You can spend the rest of your life asking those questions but fact is, you can’t change the past. So why can’t you just accept that I belong with you now.”

As sound as his argument is, you’re still growing frustrated. Infuriating that none of your words seem to matter to him. How could he had gone and decided the next chapter of your life for you, without even letting you have a say. It’s your life, it’s your love, how could he be so merciless as to coerce an ending that had you in heartbreak. How hypocritical of him to have tied your hands behind your back while sitting here utters words of a love ending too soon by the pressure of life’s folds.

“Trust me, I want to accept it but please, be honest with your heart, you don’t know that for sure. God is giving you a once in a lifetime chance, baby. Take it. Find out once and for all if you and Hyunwoo are fated because… Well, because we’re not.” He hesitate once again, fearful of the words he just spoke before his voice regain their frighteningly calm stability. “No more sleepless nights, no more drinking till your body gives out, no more wrestling with your conscience, no more guilt… Wouldn’t you like that?”

“And here I thought you were finally going to propose…”

You raggedly exhale the sentence before heaving a bitter laugh, wiping away the burning tears to finally get a better look at that handsome face that had been breaking your heart for the past hour. The mirthless smile lingers on your lips as you twist and roll the small band your ring finger is donning, the one he had given you a few days after your first date, promising to protect you till his dying breath while watching a sunrise through that brilliant window just past his shoulders.

“Oh… Baby…”

Your pain finally becomes apparent to the boy as he close the distance, pulling your weary body into his embrace, hand intertwine with yours. His svelte digits lacing with yours, holding it gingerly before his supple lips press a kiss daintily. Honestly, it gives you hope.

“I’m so so sorry, baby. I- I didn’t know.”

Hope.

“I’m so sorry, baby.”

Without notice, you feel his finger tighten around your finger before you felt all your hope shatter. With one swift move, he slips the promise that had been sitting neatly on your finger for 2 years off, holding it tightly inside his palm. As the metal band leaves your finger, it took all your breath away with it as you gasp audibly for air, head pull away from his body in shock.

Pain and desolation.

“H- how could you… I… HANBIN!”

The person that had given you so much love had just nailed the last coffin of the relationship that would soon be bury and fade away like the fleeting cloud in the sky.

“Nothing has changed, Y/N. I stand by my words.”

He said firmly as you reach forward, prying at the tightly clasp palm, desperately to have it back where it belong but he has other plan as he pockets the ring. Despite trying his best to be the villain, inside, it was as if all of Hanbin’s organ had liquidized, the pain spread throughout his body as he wish you would just go… Go before his strength runs out, before he gives up and pull those lips he’s dying to kiss, those lips that he already miss even though he had kissed you just an hour ago.

“If we had met at a different time, different lifetime, maybe we could’ve work but… this version of us, in this life stream, our love isn’t fated. It’s better that we break.”

Before you could say anything else, the softest knock vibrate through the room. Standing up, Hanbin briskly walk pass you and murmurs something to the person behind the door while you quickly wipe the tears away. Soon he returns, offering you his hand which you reluctantly take. You were sure by this point, he can do no more damage as you’re already stone cold on the ground, bleeding out despite slowly rising from the couch. Hands holding yours, thumbs rubbing gently, his eyes trace every single line, every crinkle, every spot, searing them forever into his heart.

“I know all this seems rush and unfair but if you ever love me, which I know you do… Go. Live your life confidently and be happy. Go without any regret. I know it might hurt now but soon, everything will be okay. Trust me. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. Take care of yourself. I love you and I will always love you. Goodbye, Y/N.”

Pressing a kiss to your forehead, with a wave of his hand, his trusted assistant appears from behind that big wooden door that used to be the gate to your own private seclusion from the world.

“Hanbin, what is this? No, let go of me… Hanbin, tell him…” You screech, much to your dismay, he did nothing.

You struggle as the pair of unfamiliar cold hands grab hold of your body, guiding it toward the wooden door. Kicking and screaming, you had nearly elbow the guy before Hanbin speaks up, something dead in his expression, the aloofness in his tone, the firm frost of his voice draw all the blood from your body as it goes limp. What hurt the most, the thing that flay your heart open is those piercing cold eyes staring back at you. The soulless black orbs depleted of any emotions, so far gone that you question yourself if love had ever existed in them in the first place. The Hanbin standing in front of you isn’t your Hanbin. No... He’s simply the big scary boss that happened to share the name of your beloved.

“Take miss Y/N. Make sure she’s safe or you lose your job. Report back when you’re finish, I have one more task for you when you return. Y/N, please just go. Don’t make his job any harder.” Not losing the command in his voice, he barks the order before turning away, back to that disdainful chair, to being the fearful Mr. Kim.

You fighting ceased, arms limp along side your. How could you fight when it seems as though he had purged every last bit of feeling he had for you away, as if he was never attracted to you in the first place. The rest of the to the parking lot feel much like the sequence that plays out after a hero had been shot. Silently, you lets your lifeless body drags along by his assistant as light flashes before your eyes. His steps quick yet everything within view is dim and blurry, nearly slow motion as you try to process everything that just happened. A strange sense of tranquil washes over. All his action now made sense. From how he wanted to taste the food you had been making for him for the past 2 years one last time, to the clinginess… He was preparing himself for the lonely days to come. Even if it hurts, he did it, he puts an end to your nightmares just as he promised. With the loud slam of the door, you close your eyes and let the weight of reality sinks in as you could no longer cry.

Yours. Kim Hanbin was yours. 2 years. You hate this.

The lonely boss sits in his chair, lamenting over what he had just done to the girl he loves. As if all his heartstrings had been cut, all he seems to feel is pain. Pure white, searing hot pain in every cell of his body. He had just done the most heinous act any human could possibly do. He knows it would hurt but it was necessary for the sake of your happiness. As he gasp for air, he can feel his world shattering beneath his feet as the weight of reality daunts upon him. He finally did it. If your pain is the prick of a loyal bee, ready to give up its life in the name of the queen, his feels like the deadliest of snake had just sunk its fangs into his soft skin. The mere thought of hurting you already wreck him apart but the real pain, excruciating. You had given him your all to love and he threw it away, betrayed your trust. Even if it was for your own good, he couldn’t bear seeing you die a little bit every time he twisted the knife of fate further in your already minced heart. This was something he will never forgive himself. Suddenly, your voice rips through the colorless space, painting it with vibrant hue.

“Why are you so good to me?”

The memory of your innocent question plagues his mind. Like a maniac, he laughs at the irony of the situation before tears finally fall. Your smile was suppose to be the thing that give him strength to live another day. It was suppose to be his savior but why? Why is it so hard for him to let you go now when he knows after the pain, you’ll be smiling brighter than ever. He wasn’t sure if it’s possible for him to take another step in this life after having done something so despicable.Somehow he knows the treacherous road ahead would be anything but easy, that everyday will be gloomy without your sunshine to brighten his day.

Clasping his mouth tightly, he lets the pathetic, weak sound of muffled sob slip lose as his finger toy with the small box that would’ve changed his life forever if he only had the courage. Choking back the tear, his hands nimbly creaks it open, revealing the most brilliant twinkle of diamond hugging the small platinum band that he knows for a fact fit your ring finger perfectly. His heart bleeds knowing if he had just propose to you that night after dinner, then maybe you would be in his arm right now instead of dying over lost love. What if he had just listen to you and cancel dessert. Would it had butterfly affected your meeting with Hyunwoo?

What ifs are what ifs for a reason right, baby?

What use would it does for him to question the events of destiny now that he had taken it into his own hand. The ring remains ownerless as is his heart. Laughing at the fact that somehow even when you’re gone, you still manage to keep his heart, he gently sit the ring on his desk. With a ragged breath, he pulls out his phone and the small sticky note his assistant had given him just before dragging you away. Briskly typing in the series of number written on the note under the name Son Hyunwoo, he compiles the text that would be the last piece of the puzzle.

2:05 - She needs you, go to her.

He recalls the serendipitous meeting of the strange girl that affects his life in ways he didn’t know was possible, letting the thought of you lulls him to numbness. With a heavy sigh, he sends the closing sentence of the final act to perhaps the greatest chapter in his life. A chapter that he will now return for Hyunwoo to continue, hoping no matter the author, a smile will forever be on your lips.

Part 2: Please Stay. Part 3: Always Mine.

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