#LOVE YOURSELF in NAGOYA

[namchyoon]

day 284/547 until joon returns cr. namuspromised

[yumartist]

Good morning. ☁️

1st album "Yuma" 🩵

Re-released. 🕊

Contains uplifting songs. ✩.*˚

[bts-boys]

190112 BTS V at Love Yourself World Tour in Nagoya Day 1 © nuna v do not edit, crop, or remove the watermark

[thvictory95]

[130119] BTS World Tour 'Love Yourself' | Nagoya

📸누나비(NUNA V)

©️TW:_nuna_V

📸Winter StrawVerry❄🍓

©️TW:winterVerry1230

©️TW:Miracle_1230V

< 3/3 >

[scary-grace]

Opposites Attract (Chapter 7) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your quirk lets you capture almost anyone with ease, and you can't believe you let Shigaraki Tomura escape. Shigaraki can't believe it, either, and according to the League, there's only one possible explanation -- you let him go because you've fallen in love with him. He decides to find out if it's true. You decide you won't fail to capture him again. You both get a lot more than you bargained for. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Chapter 7

“You’re cheating!” Bakugou attempts to thrash free, but you’ve got such a firm grasp on the iron in his blood that he can’t do much more than breathe. And complain. “You didn’t go this hard on that half-and-half bastard!”

“I went exactly this hard,” you say. You’re helping out at UA again, and today your job is to help students who can conceivably activate their quirks while fully paralyzed learn how to do so. By fully paralyzing them with your quirk and waiting to see what happens. “Todoroki’s just better than you are.”

“Let me out of here! I’ll kick your ass!”

“You have to get out of there first,” you say. “I’m waiting.”

Not every student can activate their quirk without moving, and for the ones who can, it’s far from second nature. Even the people who don’t need movement to activate their quirks tend to tie it to physical gestures in some way, and they don’t notice until you deprive them of it. Some of the students are adapting more successfully than others. Yaoyorozu, the one with the Creation quirk, could barely wait until you’d immobilized her to start creating a plastic gun to shoot you with. Tokoyami, the kid with the shadow monster, simply launched the shadow monster at you, and you let him go in a hurry.

Todoroki took a little longer to get it, and so did Ashido – but both of them were still a lot faster than Bakugou. Bakugou was always going to be a dick about this, you think, but the presence of an audience is complicating things. The fact that the audience includes Midoriya makes it even more complicated, especially since Midoriya is trying to be supportive. “You can do it, Kacchan!”

“Shut up, you damn nerd!”

Holding onto Bakugou isn’t taking nearly as much of your concentration as you hoped it would. Eraser didn’t ask you to come to UA this time – you volunteered, making up some kind of story about how you wanted to see how the kids were doing and help as much as you could. Eraser bought your story, just like the environmentalists you helped by fishing garbage out of the river they’re restoring bought it when you pretended to be super interested in saving the endangered whatever that lives in there, the same as the venue for which you served as a living metal detector on their busiest night of the year bought it when you told them crowd management was your passion. You can’t bury yourself in ordinary hero work, not when so much of ordinary hero work involves arresting people who are just trying to get by. You’ve had to get creative if you want to distract yourself from the fact that you haven’t seen Shigaraki in nineteen days.

The first few nights it wasn’t the worst thing. You got to order takeout instead of cooking and watch something dumb on TV and not worry that someone’s going to try to make out with you if you hold still for too long. But the first few nights lengthened out into a week, and then it was weird. You hadn’t gone that long without seeing him since the first time he showed up on your fire escape, and it wasn’t like he restricted himself to just your fire escape, either – the night he saved your life, it was because he’d followed you all the way to Nagoya. If Shigaraki wants to see you, nothing stops him.

You’ve put your ear to the ground just enough to confirm he hasn’t been captured. If he hasn’t been captured and he hasn’t come to see you in nineteen days, it’s because the two of you are done.

Done. What’s there to be done with? The two of you weren’t officially together. You were never going to be officially anything, not without someone’s life falling apart – your life, if you were being honest. You didn’t have Shigaraki’s screw-the-world, it’ll-all-work-out attitude about the whole thing. You knew it wouldn’t work out, that it would all fall apart sooner or later. You just didn’t think you’d be so sad.

You started to expect him. To look forward to seeing him, if you’re being honest. You were weirdly proud of being the only hero Shigaraki could put up with, the only person who could get him to eat a vegetable even if he spent the whole time bitching about it, the only person whose hand he wanted to hold. You liked debating with him and watching movies and running off on weird hypotheticals that got so ridiculous so fast that you could barely speak without laughing. You weren’t lonely before the first time Shigaraki showed up on your fire escape. You’re lonely now.

You wish you knew what you did – other than the obvious thing of being a hero who might have to arrest him one way. You’ve replayed the last time you saw him in your head at least twice a day for the last week, trying to figure it out, coming up confused every time. You’d recovered from the concussion, recovered enough that kissing Shigaraki again didn’t feel like pushing your luck, and things had gone a little farther than expected. Or a lot farther, in Shigaraki’s case. Your life’s taken some weird turns, but even knowing that, making a supervillain come in his pants wasn’t anywhere in your plans for what you wanted to do when you grew up.

Maybe that was it. You know that kind of thing can embarrass guys. But Shigaraki didn’t seem embarrassed – just grossed out at the idea of having to wear the same pants until the next time he could shower. Your apartment has a shower, and a laundry room in the basement, so you shooed him into the bathroom, dug out a pair of oversized UA sweatpants for him to wear, and added his clothes to your laundry basket.

You remember him watching you through the cracked-open door, the shower already running in the background. “How long is that going to take?”

“The laundry? Not sure.” You studied him. His hair was kind of messy, because your hands had been running through it, and his face was still kind of red. You liked how he looked. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

“No,” Shigaraki said. It was quiet for a second. Then a lopsided grin crossed his face. “If I’d know that all I had to do to score a sleepover was to cream my pants, I’d have done it a month ago.”

You hadn’t wanted to laugh. Really. But you cracked up, and you were still laughing on your way down to the laundry room. And when you got back, Shigaraki was sprawled on your couch with wet hair, trying to Decay the UA logo off the sweatpants without Decaying the pants, too. He didn’t look embarrassed. He looked comfortable, and you can’t imagine a person who was humiliated making the same joke he did. Then again, you can’t imagine what else you could have done to scare him away.

Except be a hero, when he’s a villain. You’re being insane. You wrench your mind away from the same stupid questions you’ve been turning over for a week and focus on containing Bakugou. He’s making it really easy for you. Midoriya must think so, too, because he’s trying to help, and making everything worse in the bargain. “Come on, Kacchan! Your quirk is just your sweat, right? I know you’re sweating in there. If you just –”

“Shut up!”

“You might want to keep it down,” you advise Midoriya. “If he can’t do it, you’re just going to make him feel bad about himself. And that’s not very nice.”

“Oh. Sorry, Kacchan!” Midoriya looks really sorry. Bakugou, meanwhile, looks like the rest of him is about to explode, too. “It’s okay if you can’t do it! Really! Your quirk is still –”

Bakugou finally manages to fire off an explosion. It’s not particularly powerful, and he aims it at Midoriya instead of you, but it’s an improvement. And you say so. “Okay, nice work. I’m going to let you out now so Kaminari can have a turn –”

“No,” Bakugou snarls. “I’m going again.”

“I wanted to try,” Kaminari complains. “Can’t you get both of us at the same time?”

“Actually, I can.” It’ll be good practice for you, too. You unfreeze Bakugou, then freeze he and Kaminari at the same time. “Let’s go.”

By the time Eraser gets back from working with the students who need movement to activate their quirks – they’re training hand-to-hand combat skills – you and your subset of students have modified the exercise. Now you’re restraining as many of them as possible while they try to use their quirks to break your hold. In order to keep them trapped, you have to be able to evade their attacks or weather them if you can’t, or make it more difficult for them to concentrate on using their quirks. You think the students might be having fun. You definitely are.

Eraserhead isn’t. “Skynet, what is this?”

“Teamwork exercise, Aizawa-sensei!” Ashido chirps. You tried holding her upside down to mess with her inner ear, but now you’ve opted for rotating her, making it impossible for her to ensure that any acid sprayed at you won’t hit her comrades, too. “Skynet’s being the villain and we’re trying to take her down!”

“And what are you two doing?” Eraser asks Midoriya and Aoyama, who are both sitting out. “Is there a reason you aren’t participating?”

“We thought I could use my quirk without moving, but I can’t yet,” Midoriya says. “And Aoyama, um –”

“I said no,” you say. “His belt’s a problem.”

Aoyama’s belt is key to controlling his quirk, and it’s also a big piece of metal wrapped around his waist. If he was a villain, somebody you were trying to stop in the act of hurting others, you wouldn’t hesitate to damage it. but since he’s a student, you don’t want to risk it or even come close. To be honest, you’d probably hesitate if he was a villain, too. You’ve gotten weirdly squeamish about hurting people who are villains. One more thing you can blame Shigaraki for.

Eraser nods curtly at you, then addresses the students you’ve trapped. “Did I call an end to the exercise? Keep trying to escape.”

Two of them get out eventually – Yaoyorozu and Todoroki, who team up by using Todoroki’s ice to trap you in place while Yaoyorozu throws plastic projectiles at you until you have to let go of the others to shield yourself. Still, you’re pleased with the results. If you can restrain a handful of UA’s finest while they’re all trying to get you at once, you probably have a good shot at restraining whoever or whatever else you try to restrain.

You leave at the same time as school gets out, and you don’t have patrol tonight, so you find yourself walks to the train station alongside a couple of students. Midoriya is one of them, and he’s feeling talkative. “Can I ask you something?” he says, and then goes ahead and asks without waiting for an answer. “Why did you become an underground hero rather than choosing visibility? Obviously both roles matter to society, but at a time like this with All Might retired and Endeavor – doing that – don’t you think people need to see that powerful heroes are protecting them? I understand if it’s like a stage fright thing, but – like – you can get over that, right?”

“It’s not a stage fright thing,” you say. “I told you what my quirk is like when you asked a while ago. You saw what I did to Ground Beta.”

“Yeah, but then you stopped a train and flipped a car that the League of Villains was trying to run you over in,” Midoriya says. He frowns slightly. “You’ve run into them twice now, right?”

The whole League, as opposed to just their leader? “Twice,” you confirm. Play it cool. “Why?”

“I just – you got a lot better at using your quirk. How did they get away the second time?” Midoriya hesitates, then launches another question at you. “And how could you get the bullets away from Shigaraki but not get him, too?”

You should have guessed that it would be a student who busted you. Or didn’t bust you – the information you’re about to give Midoriya is useless to anybody but you. “He’s anemic,” you say. Midoriya blinks. “Shigaraki is, I mean. There’s not enough iron in his blood for my quirk to latch onto. And he doesn’t wear anything with metal on it, either.”

“Probably because he learned from the first time you fought at Kamino,” Midoriya says, nodding – and then he’s off to the races. “Otherwise you’re a bad matchup for the entire League, wire to wire! Kurogiri’s body is metal – if he’s anywhere near you, there’s trouble. Dabi has all those staples – Spinner has knives – you could grab Twice and Toga at Kamino and Compress has a metal arm now. Shigaraki’s the only one who isn’t, and he was there in the attack on Overhaul. So he must have triggered some kind of alert to let Kurogiri know –”

“That’s my guess.”

“And then you grabbed the bullets from him while he was warping away,” Midoriya says, satisfied. “That makes way more sense.”

You shouldn’t follow up. There’s no way you should ask. “More sense than what?”

“Then you letting him go,” Midoriya says. “You’re a hero. A hero would never do that.”

“Right,” you say. There’s a lump in your throat. “Yeah. Is that really what people are saying about me?”

“No,” Midoriya says at once. Midoriya’s not a good liar, which is how you know he’s telling the truth. “I just wondered. I think about stuff like that a lot.”

You nod, and swallow hard in the bargain. Midoriya doesn’t wait even a second before starting up again. “So if you run into him again, you’ll use a different capture style, right? Something more like Aizawa-sensei’s scarf – no, Kurogiri’s warp could get out of it, or he could just warp Aizawa-sensei right along with Shigaraki – maybe something that anchors him to the ground? If there’s infrastructure on the surface, can you pull it up and –”

Midoriya chatters away until your train pulls in, and you thank him for the advice and get on. You’re not going to cry about this. You’re going to be honest with yourself. The problem is that you betrayed your principles as a hero, that you let an actual villain escape your grasp dozens of times. The problem isn’t the fact that Shigaraki left you. Whatever you were to him, he got what he wanted from you. You’re just lucky you got out of it with your reputation intact.

When you get home, the urge to order takeout is overwhelming, but you bought groceries that are in danger of going bad, and you hate wasting money. You cook something simple, eat it standing up in the kitchen, and throw yourself into the clean up while you’re still upright. You put on music to give your mind something else to do. You’ve been resisting making a breakup playlist. Any time a song gets too far into he/she/they-did-me-wrong territory, you skip over it. Except one.

Am I not good enough? Am I just not what you’re looking for? “Don’t walk me to the door, I know my own way out,” you sing under your breath. “Am I not bad enough? Did I not fit in with your fake friends?”

You feel bad singing along to that. You know Shigaraki’s friends aren’t fake, and you skip the rest of the verse out of guilt. You’re back into it for the chorus, though. With feeling. “Well, I’m done putting out fires you start when the cranberry vodka hits too hard, and I’m done building back bridges you burned in the dark –” Now you’re mad. Mad enough to rattle the fire escape. “When it comes to you, I can’t shake loose, so you go too far, I –”

That’s not you shaking the fire escape. You summon your quirk, locking down whoever’s out there before they can move an inch, wrapping their throat, too, so you can cut off any sound they might try to make. You switch off the water in the sink and head for the window, prying it open, even angrier than you were a second ago. Sure enough, it’s Shigaraki – or is it? It looks like him. Sounds like him, when he rasps out your name. It’s wearing the same clothes he always does. But the iron concentration in his blood is wrong. The model hand over his face is wrong. And if Shigaraki really was here, you know for a fact he wouldn’t be thrashing against the restraints in a panic.

The imposter continues to thrash, and you tighten your grip. “You aren’t him,” you say, and the thrashing stops in an instant. “Who are you?”

The not-Shigaraki breaks out in a grin that belongs to someone else. “I knew it,” it crows. “I told you she’d know. Didn’t I?”

It’s talking to someone else. Who? You find them with your metal sense further up the wall, crawling down towards you without the aid of the fire escape, and you unfurl it to snatch them, too, bringing them down to your level. Spinner. It’s Spinner from the League of Villains. If Spinner’s here, then the not-Shigaraki must be – “Toga?”

“That’s me!” The disguise melts away into the grossest grey sludge you’ve ever seen, revealing Toga Himiko beaming up at you with an abnormally sharp-toothed grin. “I knew you’d know I wasn’t Tomura-kun! You really are in love!”

You and Spinner both hiss at her to be quiet, but it’s occurring to you that you’ve got a guy in a Stain mask dangling outside your window and a naked teenage girl restrained on your fire escape. The noise is the least of your worries. “I’m going to let you go, but you have to get inside. Now.”

Your first priority is making sure you don’t have a naked teenager in your apartment, but Spinner’s got you covered there – he pulls a set of clothes out from somewhere and throws it at Toga, who immediately starts getting changed. You shut the window and the blinds and turn to face them both. “What are you doing here?”

Neither of them are paying attention. They’re both checking out your apartment. “No wonder he’s so cranky! This place is nice!” Toga exclaims. “I’d be cranky, too!”

“I really don’t think it’s just that,” Spinner says, but he’s eyeballing your fridge. “There are a lot of reasons why –”

“Then start telling me about them.” You use your quirk to snatch two knives from their sheaths on Spinner’s hips and raise them to both intruders’ throats. “What are you doing here? Where’s Shigaraki?”

Their faces fall, but your heart sinks further, and a lot faster. “Did something happen to him? Tell me. Now!”

“No!” Toga looks surprised. “Did you think something happened to him? Were you worried? That’s so sweet! When I tell him –”

“He’s not dead or anything,” Spinner interrupts. “He needs your help.”

Your heart starts to resettle itself – but now that you’re not worried anymore, all that’s left to be is mad. “So why isn’t he here to ask me himself?”

“That’s kind of why he needs your help,” Toga says. “Come with us.”

This is getting out of control. “Where?”

“It’s hard to explain. You’ll get it once we show you,” Spinner says. Then he hits himself in the forehead. “Dammit. Toga, the blood –”

“I gave it to you!” While you’ve still got the knife at her throat, Toga reaches slowly into one of the pouches on Spinner’s utility belt and extracts a vial of dark-red blood. She holds it out to you. “Does this have enough iron in it for you to use your quirk?”

“It – yeah.” There’s a lot of iron. “Whose blood is this?”

“Come with us,” Toga says again. “We’ll show you.”

“You have to come with us,” Spinner says firmly. “If you don’t say yes, we’ll have to use force.”

You can’t help laughing at that. Spinner scowls. “Look, we know you could solo both of us. We get it. But Shigaraki needs your help. It’s really important. Are you gonna tell him no?”

“Please don’t tell him no,” Toga implores. “He’s been so crabby! When he figured out he couldn’t leave and come see you –”

“He’s trapped somewhere?”

“Sort of,” Spinner says. “We’ll explain on the way.”

So Shigaraki didn’t ditch you. Something happened to him. Something’s still happening to him, and whatever it is, the League thinks you can help. Given that the vial of brought they brought to test you is so full of iron that you could probably launch it into orbit, they might be right. But that brings up a different question. A harder question. Shigaraki needs your help. Do you want to give it to him?

This isn’t just feeding him dinner and making out with him. This is something else, and once you’re involved with it, you’re all the way off the map as far as heroics go. Is that really a step you’re willing to take? Your mind makes the argument that he saved your life and you owe him, but you brush it aside – you let him go not once or twice but dozens of times, so if anything, saving you was just making it even. On equal footing, on balance. How much do you care about Shigaraki?

Tomura. He told you to call him Tomura. “Okay,” you say, and both of the villains in your apartment breathe audible sighs of relief. “I’m going to need my quirk for this, right? Let me get my boots.”

You assumed the League got here via Kurogiri, but apparently Kurogiri was captured. They drove here in a car they stole, a car which is parked horrendously across an alley three streets away from your apartment building. Toga hops in the backseat, while Spinner hovers hopefully by the driver’s-side door. “You can drive, right? Shigaraki said you could.”

You can, but – “I’m not driving a stolen car.”

Riding in a stolen car is about as bad as driving in one, but you content yourself with the idea of pretending that the League kidnapped you and scrunch down in the front seat. You have a feeling it’s going to be a long drive.

Tomura’s told you about the League, so you have some idea of what you’re dealing with. Not enough of one, though. Toga chatters away in the backseat, and while you feel like there might be a question somewhere in what she’s saying, you don’t have any idea when it’s going to arrive. Spinner, meanwhile, is watching you out of the corner of his eye. You wish he’d keep both eyes on the road, but so long as you keep your metal sense active and your reflexes sharp, you should be able to avert any accident that results from Spinner paying too much attention to you.

He gets around to what he wants to say before Toga gets to her question. “You know about Stain, right?”

“Mister Stainy! I love Mister Stainy!”

“No, you don’t. You want to eat him or something,” Spinner says to Toga. Toga giggles. “I was asking Skynet. You know about the Hero Killer, right?”

“Yeah. He was in my city for a while.” It was last year, before the League of Villains arose, and he killed three heroes and crippled five more. “I was always scared I’d run into him.”

It wouldn’t have been a good situation, but unless Stain knocked you out, you wouldn’t have been completely outgunned. Even if he paralyzed you with his quirk, you could paralyze him right back with yours, and your paralysis lasts way longer than his does. “He would never have gone after you,” Spinner says. “You follow his principles.”

“What are his principles?” you ask. “Is it really just that celebrity heroes are bad?”

“No,” Spinner says, insulted. “Stain believes that people who accept money and seek fame in exchange for good deeds don’t merit the title of hero.”

“So if they stopped calling themselves heroes, it would be fine?”

“That’s the kind of thing Shigaraki says.” Spinner makes a face. “You know it’s about more than that, right? It’s about doing the right thing because it’s the right thing, not because doing it will make you rich and famous. Why did you become a hero? If it was for money and fame, you’re doing it wrong.”

You get that a lot. “I wanted to do something that mattered,” you say. “There are lots of jobs that matter, but this is one I’m good at, and my quirk lets me do things to help people that other people can’t. So I do. That’s kind of it. I only get famous when I do something wrong.”

“Like letting Tomura-kun go!” Toga pipes up from the backseat. “You couldn’t help that, though, right? You’re in love.”

You cringe. “That’s – um –”

“Tell me everything.” Toga’s arms wrap around your neck as she notches her chin over your shoulder. “I want to know why heroes fall in love with villains. That way I can make Ochako and Izuku and Tsu fall in love with me!”

Those are kids. Class 1-A kids. “All three of them?”

“I can’t choose! They’re all so cute.” Toga sighs with happiness. “So I should make them all fall in love with me, and then I can pick my favorite. Don’t you think?”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” you say. If Toga’s arms tighten around your throat any more than they already have, you’re gluing her to the roof of the car for the rest of the drive. “Maybe you should see which one falls in love with you and go from there.”

“Maybe.” Toga sounds doubtful. “Tomura-kun is lucky. He didn’t have to try to make you fall in love with him at all.”

It’s sort of weird, now that you look back on it. Tomura didn’t try to woo you or anything, beyond sliding an envelope with a 500-yen coin in it under your door, but when he showed up on your fire escape that first time, he was completely confident that you wouldn’t hand him over. Totally comfortable letting you wrap shackles around him so you could trap him if you needed to. He didn’t act like he was trying to get you to like him. He acted like he’d already won you over, and it worked.

You think that might have been the only reason it worked. If Tomura had been insecure or lost confidence at any point, you would never have made it this far. Where did he get that confidence? You’re about to ask, but Spinner’s watch beeps, and he and Toga both suck in a breath. “It’s starting. Go faster,” Toga says. Spinner floors it.

“What’s starting?” you ask. No one answers. “If one of you doesn’t start talking, I’m going to flip this car.”

“Tomura-kun has to fight a monster until it acknowledges him as his sensei’s successor,” Toga says in a rush, and your jaw drops. “Except the monster, um –”

“It has way too much stamina. And way too much HP,” Spinner breaks in. “Like, it can fight for three days and rest for two hours and be ready to go again. Shigaraki only gets two and a half hours to rest. So since this all started he’s only gotten like – twelve hours of sleep. Total.”

“When did it start?”

“Eighteen days ago.” The car is going 100km an hour. If you all get pulled over, you’re screwed. “He can’t even spend all that time sleeping, because he has to eat and drink – and sometimes he gets kind of banged up –”

You don’t like this. Any of this. You feel like shit for being angry, and you hate thinking about Tomura struggling, Tomura being hurt. But you can’t cross the line they’re asking you to. “I can’t fight this monster. Not when he’s planning to use it for – whatever you’re planning to use it for.”

“We don’t want you to fight it,” Toga says hastily. “We just want you to make it freeze.”

Oh. “Shigaraki needs more time to rest or this is going to kill him,” Spinner says. “Either he’ll fuck up and that thing will pulverize him, or he’ll die of exhaustion. If you can give him even a few extra minutes, that’s time he can use to sleep a little longer or eat or something. You said that blood has enough iron in it for you to use. Can you do it?”

“How big is this thing?”

“Big,” Toga says. When you meet her eyes in the rearview mirror, she looks serious. “Please help Tomura. You love him, so you have to.”

Love is a really strong word. You haven’t even thought about whether it’s the right one, because you haven’t let yourself think very hard about anything that’s going on between you and Tomura. But whether you love him or not, you want to help him. You don’t want him to die, just like you didn’t at Kamino, and you definitely don’t want him to be hurt. That’s all that matters.

“I’ll try,” you say. “How fast can we get there?”

“Fast,” Spinner says. “Even faster if you can make sure the cops don’t see us.”

If you log into the Hero Network from your phone, it’ll tell you the approximate locations of police officers in your area. And police officers use electronic trackers to search for speeding cars. “I can do that.”

An hour and a half and three scrambled speed trackers later, Spinner parks the car at the edge of what you know to be a mountainous, largely uninhabited area. Toga checks her phone. “Base camp is that way,” she says, then grabs your wrist when you start off in the direction she indicated. “No, we’re going this way. That’s where the monster is.”

You look questioningly at Spinner, since he seems to be more with it than Toga is. “We try to keep base camp as far away from Gigantomachia as possible, since he starts coming after Shigaraki the second he wakes up from hibernation. Come on.”

You hike through the dark woods, following Spinner, with Toga bringing up the rear. They’re quiet, even Toga’s goofiness fading away. They’re both deadly serious, and you realize just how worried they are about Shigaraki. They must be, if they risked coming to a hero. You think about the situation they’re describing, how thoroughly untenable it is, and feel a sharp surge of resolve. You won’t let this be what kills Shigaraki. You’ll help him. If this is all you can do, so be it.

Spinner comes to a sudden stop, and you run into him. “Right there,” he says, pointing into a spot of deep darkness. “Can you see?”

“No,” you say, but then you tap into your metal sense, and you can’t stop the curse that slips out of your mouth. “Holy shit.”

The monster – Gigantomachia – has more iron suspended in his bloodstream than anyone you’ve ever seen. That’s because his body’s enormous. Even sprawled out on his back he’s visible above the hills; if he stood up, he’d be tall enough to blot out the stars. Tomura can’t fight this thing. Not rested, not healthy, not with an army at his back. He’ll die. Fear ties you in a knot, but reality’s there to push back. Tomura’s survived eighteen days so far. You can help him survive. So you will.

“He’s waking up soon.” Spinner shows you a countdown on his phone. You’ve got maybe two minutes left. “Hold him down as long as possible.”

You nod and start shuffling off along the ridge. “Hey,” Spinner calls after you. “Where are you going?”

“I need to find some metal underground. Otherwise I could get yanked off my feet.” You find a seam of poor-grade copper, about ten meters down, and grimace. It’ll have to do. The locking mechanism in your boots activates, and you begin scanning the giant with your metal sense, trying to pinpoint the spots you absolutely have to hold to keep him still. You’ll try to grasp the entirety of Gigantomachia’s body, but he could be too much for you to hold onto. You don’t really know. There’s been no point in your entire life, save the moment your quirk first awakened, that you used your abilities to their fullest extent.

No time like the present. The timer on Spinner’s phone goes off, the giant stirs, and you seize control of the iron concentration in his blood.

One of your friends in high school had a thing for the American Wild West aesthetic, and one time he showed you a video of somebody trying to ride a bull. It looked like hell on earth – getting thrown around, clinging on for dear life while something immensely large and way stronger than you tries its best to shake you off. In short, absolutely nothing you’d ever want to do for yourself. Trying to hang onto Gigantomachia as he struggles to rise from the ground to hunt down Tomura is the closest you’re ever going to get.

You disengage the locking mechanism on your boots in seconds. If you don’t, trying to hold onto him could rip you in half. Without an anchor, though, you’re at the mercy of Gigantomachia’s attempts to break free, getting thrown this way and that and dragged along the ground for twenty feet or so before Spinner and Toga both jump on you to stop you from being hauled over a cliff. Before now, the Shinkansen was the biggest thing you’d ever tried to control. One big thing, going in one direction, at a constant speed. Gigantomachia is worse.

You sacrifice your control over certain parts of his body in favor of hanging onto the key ones, giving up your grip on his toes, his feet, his legs below the knee. Your entire body is rattling and your head aches, the ghost of concussions past coming back to haunt you. A blood vessel in your nose ruptures, followed by one of your eardrums, and a moment later, your quirk decides to protect you from itself. It slips away from you all at once, and Gigantomachia lurches upright with a furious roar.

It’s all you can do not to pass out from fear, but he’s not interested in you. You don’t think he even knows that you and the others are there as he storms off in search of Tomura. You sprawl out flat on the ground, Spinner and Toga still on top of you. “Don’t lick her,” Spinner snaps, shooing Toga away as she investigates the blood dripping down your face. “Are you okay? Shigaraki is going to kill us if you –”

“How long?”

“Huh?”

“How long did I hang onto him for?” You shove the others off of you and sit up, fighting dizziness. Your arms can barely hold your weight. “Gigantomachia. How long?”

Spinner checks his phone, the case of which is cracked. Your phone is still in your pocket, probably in worse shape. “Two and a half minutes.”

Despair floods through you. “I’m sorry. Tell him I’m sorry –”

“No, it’s good!” Toga hugs you around the shoulders. “Really good. Tomura-kun can eat something in two and a half minutes. Or drink some water. All kinds of stuff that will help.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Spinner agrees. He doesn’t look disappointed. “Honestly, we weren’t sure you’d be able to do it at all.”

Toga nods. “That’s why we didn’t tell him.”

Your head spins even worse than it was before. “Tomura doesn’t know?”

“No.” Toga runs a finger beneath your nose, picks up some blood, and tastes it. “He misses you. We offered to tell you what happened but he said no. He said he didn’t want you involved unless you wanted to be.”

That doesn’t make any sense. Tomura wants to recruit you. He’s been trying to recruit you for months – or has he? You talk, sure. You go back and forth on all kinds of things when you aren’t watching movies or making out, although there were a few times where you kissed him to shut him up and the argument kept going through the making out. You talk with him, a lot, but you can’t remember the last time it felt like he was trying to convince you of anything.

So maybe it’s not about that anymore. You know he’d like your quirk for the League, and he probably wouldn’t complain about seeing you all the time. But if he doesn’t want you involved unless it’s what you want, then – “We weren’t going to come find you,” Spinner says. “But it got really bad. And now you know, so –”

“Do you want to come see him the next time there’s a break?” Toga asks eagerly. “He’d be so happy!”

You shake your head. “He needs to rest. I don’t want to interrupt that.”

You don’t want to interrupt, and you don’t know that you’re ready to see Tomura yet. You’re not sure what you’re doing and you’re not sure how you feel about it, about him, and you feel like both of those things should be squared away before you make contact with the villain you have feelings for. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to disengage. You take your phone out of your pocket, press the home button, and see that it’s miraculously still functioning. You unlock it and hand it to Spinner.

Spinner looks suspicious. “Why are you giving me this?”

“So you can set a timer for me the same as yours,” you say. Spinner’s eyes light up. “And give me your phone. You need my number.”

Spinner hands his over right away, but Toga hesitates. “Why?”

“Because I need you to text me Gigantomachia’s location the next time he hibernates,” you say. “I can’t freeze him if I don’t know where he is.”

They both stare at you for a few seconds. Toga hands over her phone in a hurry, and you give two villains your phone number. Spinner’s gone from looking happy to looking apprehensive. “You got beat to shit this time. You sure you want to come back for more?”

You wipe your nose on your sleeve, spit blood onto the ground. Your ear is aching, and so is your head, and your entire body is shaking with fatigue – but that’s barely a step up from a hard day’s training. The only difference is that this time, you were actually working at your limit. But it doesn’t have to be your limit forever. If your time at UA taught you anything, it’s that limits exist to be pushed, then surpassed. This might be the first time in your life that you actually get to go plus ultra.

Tomura would hate that, even if you’re doing it to help him. A smile crosses your face at the thought. “Yeah,” you say to Spinner, who now looks more than a little weirded out. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

taglist: @shigarakislaughter @evilcookie5 @lacrimae-lotos @warxhammer @handumb @agente707 @aslutforfictionalmen @deadhands69 @dance-with-me-in-hell @lvtuss @xeveryxstarfallx @minniessskii @koohiii @cheeseonatower @issaortiz @f3r4lfr0gg3r @baking-ghoul @atspiss @boogiemansbitch @shikiblessed

<- Chapter 6 Chapter 8 ->

[myheromarveldemia]

When Touya Caught (16-Year-Old) Shoto Having "Big Fun"

Touya: You get your lying, conniving, half-and-half self in this house! Out of the goodness of my heart, I won’t tell Dad what happened, but trust and believe that dealing with me ain’t gonna be a picnic, either!

Shoto: Touya—

Touya: Shut up! Go sit your lying butt down somewhere.

[A nervous Shoto takes the nearest seat]

Touya: Boy, you’ve got a lot of nerve. Here we are thinking some villain put you six feet under, but you weren’t on a hero mission, were you? You were in Osaka, having big fun! Did you have big fun, Shoto? Tell me, didn’t you go for big fun?

Shoto: I—

Touya: Shut up! Don't you dare answer me when I'm asking you a question!

[Natsuo and Fuyumi are watching in secret]

Touya (not even looking in their direction): Go to bed, both of you.

[They leave; Shoto tries to leave as well, but Touya stops him]

Touya: Not you, buddy. You’re not going anywhere. (starts pacing with folded arms) I hope you go through what I went through this weekend. I hope that someday you get scared out of your fucking mind that someone you love is in danger—only to find out that they’ve been playing you for a fucking fool this whole time. I’m almost glad that I get to be this angry at you because that means I know you’re okay. But make no mistake, I’m enraged. I’m enraged, Shoto, and you know why? Because come to find out—you’re not even in town at all. No, you, despite not being of legal age to drive, got the brilliant idea to take MY CAR all the way to Osaka to see Walt Disney’s Frozen On Ice—having big fun! Isn’t that what you had, Shoto? Didn’t you have big fun? Well, let’s see, you got yourself a nice bowl of zaru soba, didn’t you? Had you some nice, tasty soba in a little noodle shop in Nagoya. (looks over at his boyfriend) Keigo, tell me, you ever had noodles in Nagoya?

Hawks (dryly): Not on the weekend.

Touya: There he is, the Number Two Hero’s golden child, enjoying himself a nice bowl of soba without a care in the world. But lo and behold, my fucking car gets stolen! That’s right, the car you stole got stolen AGAIN. Now, a normal person with half a gnat’s brain would simply take that massive L with grace and go home, maybe even report the stolen car to the authorities if you can spare a moment or two, but you? (laughs sarcastically) You and your boyfriend and girlfriend scrounge up enough loose change to take yourselves on a bus all the way to Osaka!

Hawks: Dude, what were you thinking?

Shoto: I wasn't thinking.

Hawks: Boy, that's right on the money.

Touya: And you and Inasa and Momo really thought no one would find out about all this? You really thought that, didn’t you? Well, did you?

Shoto: Touya—

Touya: Shut up! Well, guess what? We found out! We found out you were wild and free with Elsa and Anna and singing “Let It Go” at the top of your lungs! Or so you thought. Now, if you wouldn’t mind giving us a little recap, why is it that you didn’t get to see your precious Frozen On Ice and have big fun?

[Shoto remains silent]

Touya (through gritted teeth): Answer me when I'm talking to you.

Shoto (shuddering, tearing up): We got our phones stolen and we couldn’t access our tickets.

Hawks: FYI, it really didn’t help that y’all turned off the “Find Your Phone” feature on your phones.

Touya: You owe Keigo the biggest apology for having to fly your sorry asses out of trouble. He and I planned a nice, romantic weekend of smoking pot together for our anniversary, but our whole weekend’s shot because we had to save my baby brother from the consequences of his own actions!

Shoto: Touya, Hawks…I’m really sorry. Mom and Dad’s divorce has been hard on me, too, and Inasa and Momo were just trying to cheer me up, and you guys know Frozen is my favorite movie (seeing their glares)—but I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I—I would like a punishment before bed.

Touya: Do I look like Dad to you? Don’t answer that. Just—get out of my sight.

Shoto: I won’t be able to sleep with this kinda guilt on my conscience. I insist on a punishment on before bed.

Hawks (holding Touya back from attacking Shoto): Why don’t you go to bed before your punishment is not living to see another day?

Touya (calms down): You know what? I do have a punishment for you. You’ve lost our trust. After all the bullshit you put us through, it’s gonna be a long time until we can trust you again. If we can at all.

Shoto (crying): Touya, I said I was sorry. It really won’t happen again.

Touya: Just go. For all I know you’re lying to me right now.

[Shoto heads to his room, sobbing and passing Natsuo]

Natsuo: If you’re thinking of running away from home, please don’t take my car.

[cherrylng]

Muse INROCK Exclusive interview - Matthew Bellamy [INROCK (January 2002)]

MUSE INROCK Exclusive

Close coverage from Nagoya to Kyoto to Osaka

PHOTOS BY HORITA YOSHIKA

Matthew Bellamy Interview

Matthew can't sleep when he thinks about it, and suffers from insomnia even in Japan! “I've been on the verge of destroying myself a few times.”

INTERVIEW: YUKO KATO

Matthew Bellamy (vo, g.): It's always tough touring in Japan, so it's good to finish off the tour in Japan. It's not that it's hard work, but it's hard because it's different from other countries. After the last show we went a bit crazy.

When, when!? Dominic Howard (ds.): Last night. Matthew: It was Chris's birthday and we had a big party after the show and we all had a great time. It was a chance to meet the whole crew properly and it was fun. We went crazy at the show. We threw a lot of stuff from the stage into the audience and me and Dom [Dominic] dived on top of the audience and had a blast (laughs).

I missed it (laughs). It was written in Kerrang! magazine (a British music magazine) that your parties are really crazy (laughs). Matthew: Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn't (laughs). I mean… (laughs, voice trailing off)… I mean, you know, Kerrang! is a British magazine, so they exaggerate even the smallest things. They make it sound like we're always having a big party and doing all sorts of weird stuff. But in reality it only happens once every couple of months or so (laughs). It's something you have to be really drunk to do (laughs).

“I don't trust people easily. Two, three or four friends is enough, isn't it?”

So the party last night wasn't that crazy? Matthew: Yesterday was… It was crazy (laughs). Dominic: Hahaha! Matthew: In the end, we… Well, I don't really like to talk about our private lives.

Why not? Matthew: Because I'll read it back later and I'll be ashamed of myself (laughs). People ask me a lot of questions about it later on.

But if it was in Japanese, you wouldn't read it over yourself, would you (laughs)? Matthew: I see (laughs). Then I'll talk about it (laughs). I had a lot of fun last night. We went out to dinner first and gave each other presents. Dom was wearing a superhero costume, and some of the other guys were wearing costumes with sticky slimy stuff on them, and we were all wearing silly hats. (see page 15) Dominic: There was even a monkey headgear! (laughs). Matthew: I was drunk as a stoat (laughs). We had a fondue… Then we went to a club, but at first it wasn't very exciting there… So we DJ'd ourselves. We all took turns to DJ. We drank more and got drunk more (laughs). Then we went back to the hotel, doing all sorts of stuff we shouldn't talk about (laughs).

The reason I ask this is because I read Japanese and English magazines, and I thought it was interesting that both showed a completely different side of you. Japanese magazines try to portray you as artistic, or very serious. They write about you in a way that you're not like normal people. But interestingly, in the UK they portray a different side of you. Especially Matt (Matthew), you're written about like a very mysterious and unusual person in the UK magazines. Matthew: (laughs) That would be interesting if that were true.

What do you really think? In your interview with Kerrang! magazine, you said that it's easier to have two sides. Matthew: Did I say that (laughs)? I don't remember (laughs). Oh, maybe it was about schizophrenia. Yeah, I remember. When you're being interviewed and you're trying to be honest and show your true self, sometimes a different side of you comes out. If you're consistently the same character as when you're on stage, you start to contradict yourself. It's the same with music. Some songs have positive themes, some have negative themes. “Bliss” is about loving someone very much or cherishing something pure, whereas “Hyper Music” is just full of hate. So the music that one artist makes is different, and I have different sides to me.

What about you, Dom? You seem more relaxed. Dominic: Hmmm…… Yeah, yeah, I probably am. I'm not as schizo as Matt. Matt's a Gemini. A Gemini is a dual personality.

You two and another flatmate, Tom, are always together, aren't you? Matthew: Yeah. We've been together since we were about 12 or 13 years old. Actually, when we get back, we're moving into a big country-style house in the English countryside within the next three or four days. There'll be four of us living there, including Chris (Wolstenholme, b.). Chris is bringing his wife and kids with him (laughs). It's the first time we're all living together, and I think it's going to be a great experience, because we can make music together even when we're not touring. We used to get together when we rehearsed or recorded, but if we all live together in the countryside, away from the pressure, in a relaxed environment, we can make music because we like it, right? Not because we make music for any other reason. And if we like it, we'll stay there forever.

Will you keep your flat in London? Matthew: I don't know yet. I'd like to keep it, but I don't think Dom would (laughs). But I'd like to have my own room or something in London.

Why would you want to live together when you're always together? Matthew: Even though we live together, we each have our own lives. We each have our own girlfriends and even though we live together we spend time apart. Sometimes our girlfriends are with us on tour…

It's like Muse is not just a band, it's a lifestyle, it's a kind of society. Matthew: Yeah, I guess so (laughs). Muse is one of the most important things for me now.

Do you feel good about it? Matthew: Absolutely. I enjoy it a lot. Even when I'm not feeling well, I'm having fun (laughs).

I heard that you were very stressed and tense when you were recording, and all you were listening to was classical music. Does making music put you under pressure? You seem to go to extremes, you don't let yourself relax while recording, isn't that a lot of work? Is that necessary? Matthew: It's not really necessary, it's just a natural pressure I put on myself. When I'm in the studio, I'm completely immersed in my work all the time. So I naturally put down roots like that, but, well, I guess I like it that way. As for classical music, I was listening to very passionate, emotional classical music. I wasn't listening to technical, mathematical classical music like Bach or Mozart, but expressive music like Rachmaninoff. I wanted to reflect piano elements in this album, and I was trying to find a way to bring extreme emotions to rock.

I can certainly see the influence of Rachmaninoff in your music. You made some very impressive music that starts with the piano. I like it a lot. By the way, you toured quite extensively in the UK before coming to Japan, didn't you? You played the Docklands Arena at the end, didn't you? Matthew: (just laughs happily and says nothing )

Really!? Why are you laughing? Matthew: The Docklands can hold about 12,000, no, 12,500 people. We were actually thinking of playing at Wembley, but there's a lot of seats at Wembley, you know? I preferred an all standing show. I thought it would be weird if 12,000 people were all sitting there and staring at us (laughs). At a normal show, everyone would be at the front doing mosh pits and stuff like that, but at the Docklands show, everyone on this side gathered here, and everyone on that side gathered there, and the venue was split into several chunks, so in some places there were holes, and it was funny (laughs).

Did you record it? Matthew: The concert? I don't know. Or do you mean a video? We had a couple of videos. We did a big show in Paris… We did two shows, over 6,000 people both times, and we recorded them for a DVD. The DVD (scheduled for release in Japan in May) will probably be released in May.

I can't believe it's only been two years. When I saw your show in Lyon two years ago, the venue was very small and there was only an audience of about 300 people. And now… Matthew: The last time we played in Lyon, we had 7,000 people.

It's a very dramatic change. Your flatmate Tom is always filming, but what is he filming for? Matthew: It's for the DVD I mentioned. We're going to put some footage of the concert we did in Paris, but also some stuff that Tom filmed. We're going to include footage of us at home, partying… When we were recording ‘Showbiz’ and ‘Origin of Symmetry’, Tom was filming the whole time. So we'd make a video that would be about an hour long, and we'd break it up into chapters and include different footage. Not necessarily related in content, but we'd do a chapter on the party, a chapter on the recording, and put them all together on one DVD. That's how Tom is filming the documentary. Tom is really good friends with us, so there's a lot of footage that he couldn't have shot otherwise. So it's going to be a DVD with a lot of personal footage of us.

Are you okay with showing your personal side? Matthew: Of course we'll edit it (laughs). We filmed it for the DVD, and Tom filmed the documentary we made for Channel 4 in the UK.

Do you want your friends to be around you when you're on tour? Do you want to be surrounded by friends? Matthew: The crew have all become our friends anyway. Even when we're not touring, we still meet the crew.

But I read in the papers that some of your friends are complaining that they can't get in touch with you guys. Matthew: Really? Hmmm…

Have you become more conscious and careful about who's a real friend and who isn't? Matthew: I think there are probably three, four or five people that I'll be friends with for the rest of my life, no matter what changes I go through in my life. Of course, there are other people who are your friends because of the situation you are in. If the situation changes, they will no longer be your friends.

Are you afraid of being taken advantage of by so-called ‘friends’ or self-proclaimed ‘friends’? Matthew: The people I'm closest to are Dom, Chris and Tom, and we've known each other for a long time now. I have a lot of other friends, but I don't have many that I'm really close with. It takes years and years to become really close friends. I'm not the type of person who trusts people easily as soon as I get to know them, so it takes time.

From what I hear, you're ambitious to break into the US next year. Matthew: Yeah, but it's very complicated, because the record company over there is having problems, and the company itself might not last another year. So it's a problem we have no control over. I think the American music industry is probably the toughest in the world, and America is not open to foreign artists.

When are you planning to tour the US? Matthew: I think around March. Actually, we've got two different plans. If the problem isn't solved soon, we'll tour Asia and Australia instead of going to the US…

Will you come back to Japan? Matthew: No, if we do come, it'll be for a summer festival. But basically we're thinking of touring other Asian countries like Korea, Thailand, and China, and new territories like Australia, Scandinavia, and Russia. But that's if the problems in America aren't resolved, and if they are, we'd like to tour in the States for three months, starting in March.

So you three are involved in everything that goes on in the band. Not only the music, but you're also involved in DVD production and management, because you don't want to leave it to other people to take it in the wrong direction? Matthew: Since I love what I do, I'm interested in how to do it. But the funny thing is, the more control you have, the more mistakes you make. We've had problems with the website.

What kind of problems? Matthew: We had a lot of meetings with the guy who was running our site, and he almost cost us extra money because of it. We've been in a position where we can't even get updates because of it. We still haven't found anyone who can do it the way we want. If we had professional management, we wouldn't have that problem… But it's more interesting when we're in control. It's a learning experience. It's interesting to learn how things work around this job.

You like the internet a lot and sometimes you spend all day doing stuff on it, don't you? Matthew: (with a look of surprise) I don't do a lot of internet these days, I did a lot of it when I was recording. The computer in my flat in London has a very fast connection to the internet, so I can download music and everything very quickly.

Are you happy to see your music spreading online in this way? Matthew: I think it's great. It's a great way to spread the music. It's a new technology and a new way to get music. I think the music industry is trying to work out a way to make sure that when music is spread on the internet, the profits go where they should go… I think it's very exciting at the moment, but it's not an issue that we can easily control. But I think it's great that people can listen to our music easily.

I hear that you are very thoughtful and think about a lot of things, and once you start thinking about something, you can't sleep at night? Matthew: I had three sleepless nights in Japan. I don't know why. But for me not being able to sleep is a big problem. At first I thought it was jet lag, but it's not. I think about a lot of things. I think about all sorts of things that I can't solve.

About music? Matthew: Everything. It's about music, it's about my personal life. I go on and on about things that I don't know the answer to, and I get confused, and I come up with multiple options… I don't sleep well while I'm thinking about all this stuff trying to solve it.

Dom, can't you help Matt? Dominic: (laughs) I don't know. I advise him to go to a bar, have a few whiskies and go to bed (laughs). I know a lot of people who can't sleep because so many things are going on in their heads. They can't relax until they sort it out in their head. Matthew: Even when I'm writing music, if I can't think of something, I get annoyed, even though it's a really small thing. I keep thinking about it, and the more I think about it, it goes from being a small thing to a big thing. It's like a snowball. You see, the snowball rolls down and becomes a bigger and bigger ball, doesn't it? Then, I get an idea at 4 or 5 in the morning, I'll get up and write some lyrics and then I can go back to sleep.

You have to be on stage the next day, don't you? How do you manage that? Matthew: I rest when I can (laughs).

Don't you want to relax? You're so far away from home, and you're in Japan, and you're thinking about all these things, and you can't find any solutions, can you? Matthew: (laughs) I don't know, it's impossible to stop thinking. Once you start thinking about something, you can't stop. It's very difficult to control your imagination.

When did you become like that? Matthew: It's been a long time. It was very hard for me to go to school. I was late every morning (laughs). Every single day, I couldn't get up in the morning. I slept through most of the morning (laughs).

Did Dom call you to wake you up or come to your house to pick you up? Matthew: We lived within walking distance of each other, but I couldn't get up every morning, so he just gave up on me (laughs).

Dom, Matt's personality is such that he often gets emotionally intense, do you think the tension in your music is due to Matt's personality? Dominic: I think so. If it's Matt's personality, that explains a lot. Some of our songs are very open and crazy, maybe it's because of Matt's personality. Matt is very energetic and has a fast metabolism. Matthew: Yeah. That's why I'm so skinny. No matter how much I eat, I don't gain any weight. It's all energy. Dominic: He eats more than me. He's just skinny. Matthew: Yeah, I'm just skinny (laughs). Anyway, it explains why my personality makes the music I do. It's a kind of a grinding thing, musically speaking. Musically, I come up with big ideas, but as we write songs together, we whittle them down until they're playable on stage. Stylistically, we have to make them playable.

What you've just said reminds me of a lot of artists who have broken themselves. Like Syd Barrett and all these American musicians. People who make music that's so intense, they destroy themselves. Matthew: (laughs) I don't know. But maybe it's true. I've come close to destroying myself a few times myself (laughs).

Recorded December 3rd in Osaka

Translator’s Note: I know that I’ve translated this interview before, but that was on an old scan by someone who posted it over a decade ago, where I struggled to even extract the words via OCR correctly and the pages were scattered in different posts to the point that it was a chore to find them and stitch the article together. The worst part was that back then, people just scanned the magazines only for the pictures in it, not the article as a whole. Now I’ve got the magazine for myself, and I can finally scan the pages and post it in better quality and in higher Dots per Inch (dpi).

Please do support me via my ko-fi! ☕

[neiptune]

ain't that the worst thing you ever heard? (part 2)

c/w: 22k wc, SUGGESTIVE, summer romance, strangers to fwb to lovers, eren can surf, this little story has kept me company for weeks now, it just kept stretching and stretching and demanding more so I tried to accomodate its needs. I hope you'll be able to perceive all the love & care I've put into it! thank you for having been part of this summer journey now I'll finally go lie down

PART 1

June melts away and July is as sweet as the ripe cherries that melt on your tongue.

You’ve always loved summer, both in the city and the countryside you grew up in. The summer season that belonged to your childhood came with watermelon slices consumed sitting on the engawa with your grandparents, a poor antidote against the oppressive humidity that glued hair and clothes to your skin. The only relief came from the small fan they kept on at all times, day and night, the low buzz a constant companion throughout the hours spent napping, going through your homework or demolishing the only thing your mother has ever been able to cook: teriyaki tofu.

You slept in the same room as your grandparents at night, two futons placed at careful distance to no avail as you couldn’t sleep anyway between the noise coming from the fan, the chirping of the cicadas from outside and your grandpa’s snoring. Those were the nights you’d spend observing the ceiling, fantasizing about growing up and becoming an adult that worked as hard as your parents who woke up at the crack of dawn and came home several hours after you had finished eating dinner. You’d daydream about the big cities they always told you about, Tokyo and Osaka and Yokohama and Nagoya, places where people didn’t have to break their backs slaving away in rice fields every day.

Places where people wore nice shirts and ties and jackets and carried little leather briefcases and worked in clean offices and never had to scrape the mortifying dirt stuck underneath their nails.

Summer in the city came with apartments with little to no insulation, boxes as humid and hot as the outside, with no air moving around inside. Still, you bought a little pink fan when you couldn’t afford an AC, made sure your fridge always had a consistent stock of watermelon and fruit popsicles. You’d lie belly-down on the tatami floors when afternoons got too hot to move, and took the Yokosuka line from the central station along with some friends whenever you could gift yourself the luxury of spending a day at the beach.

It wasn’t enjoyable. The drudgery that took to get there, sweat running down your back, crowded trains and a bus where you could barely breathe from how hot it was, sand crawling in between your belongings and sticking to your arms and legs. But the ocean? That was worth it. A body of water stretching as far as the eye could see, so boundless it felt like the city was miles and miles away, all your emotions magnified, salty breeze flooding your senses. You often wished to take your parents there, always daydreamed about how amazed your mother would feel and about your father’s calloused hands picking up a fishing rod instead of being busy ploughing, harrowing fields, harvesting grains.

You felt at ease in the water, gliding across it with bold strokes as your friends splashed around closer to the shore. You liked diving underneath the surface, eyes shut and ears filled with currents, waves and storms no one else could hear. A special sussurration made just for you, one you listened to until your lungs felt a moment away from exploding.

So far, summer on the island doesn’t come close to anything you’ve experienced before. Your vacation rental has an AC that you refuse to turn on and most nights on your first month there were so hot you could barely sleep. The sky is the kind of blue that is promising and has you excited for the day to unravel, clouds showing up and timidly crossing it fluffly and candid as snow. What was considered the glorious realm of the gods according to Mesopotamian mythology, the island holds as regular cedar forests, although so wonderful you can only guess it must’ve been blessed with a touch of divine nonetheless. You got to hike through more than one and paid homage to the ancient trees, some of Japan’s oldest living ones. Jean has been a sweet guide on your first time, carefully explaining to every member of the group he was leading both the history and ecology of the sights along the way.

Tropical storms are restless and unforgiving, you learn: wind shakes your windows, lighting tints rooms purple and the crack of thunder prompts the lighting up of your phone screen at any hour of the night, without exception.

Eren comes to know about your fear of thunderstorms on a late afternoon. He has taken the habit of showing up at your place with a little something for you from time to time: that day he had two plastic bags in his hands, a few groceries he had picked up on the way there “just in case you’re out of something”, kitchen counter slowly filling up with fresh milk, eggs, apricots, bread, one box of cereals, cheese and what were mostly his favorite snacks. And it’s never just an excuse to be there, he never expects you to reward him: Eren has his own way of putting away the groceries, his regular grumbling about how messy your cupboard is, an improved method of fixing the leaking of your sink and piling his book suggestions right next to your tv, so that you don’t forget to check them out. More often than not they’re not books he has read, just books he deems you’ll find interesting.

That afternoon Eren wasn’t there to sleep with you, he didn’t have any particular motive for spending a few hours sprawled on your couch watching some dumb cooking show, except that he enjoyed it. He enjoyed how invested you’d get and the way you’d lightly pinch his thigh when you’d have it with his boyish, teasing comments. Sometimes you’d just slot your mouth to his to shut him up, a more than welcome distraction from pretentious chefs who presented dishes he never would have dreamed to replace Sasha’s wraps with. And while your kisses didn’t always lead to anything (whatever it was that you had going on walking between blurred lines that comprised make out sessions, casual hang outs and Eren molding your body to accomodate his so perfectly you often found yourself questioning if you could ever even take anyone else and feel the same way), on that particular day you seemed more than willing to forget about the stupid cooking show. And then a loud crack his very much occupied mind could barely register, had you jolting away from him and covering your ears in a heated rush.

Eren makes sure to call or text you during storms but he’s way more subtle about it now than he was at the start. After your prideful “I’m fine, stop checking on me like I’m some damn child”, he developed a new, clever strategy to make sure you’re doing okay. Whether it’s by sending you a funny meme, the link to a tiktok video, some random update on Connie’s hectic dating life at 3 in the morning, he hopes the message gets across. And alhough most times you don’t reply until several hours later, out of that same stubborn pride that makes him roll his eyes multiple times a day, you can’t help but smile a little when the phone screen your eyes instinctively dart to at the beginning of every storm, lights up without fail.

Contrary to what you had anticipated, being friends with him is probably the easiest thing you've ever done. Eren gives a lot and takes very little, the only situations this selflessness doesn’t really apply to include discarded clothes and skirts pooled around your hips when he’s too impatient and the steamed up windows of his truck blurry your vision and your mind as the pads of his fingers dig into the fat of your thighs. Those are the moments Eren takes everything from you. He claims each breathless gasp, the twitching of your legs, the way your pretty features freeze in silent pleasure and he gets to whisper reassuring praises against the corner of your mouth. Whether he’s aware or not about just how much he ruins you each time, is beyond your understanding.

Eren talks about you with his friends when you’re not there to hang out with them, which happens often anyway. He’d casually mention something you did or said or once specified you enjoyed, an habit that’s increasingly prompting knowing glances exchanged between Connie and Jean. Armin’s stare just turns a little worried, especially when Eren reprimands everyone and cares to remind them to be careful and not get attached because your presence is temporary.

Sasha feels as if, between one beer and the other, he’s the one he’s truly trying to convince. It’s new Eren behavior, uncharted territory, and the odds of the whole thing ending in the shittiest way possible are incredibly high: which is why Armin decides to take it upon himself to test the waters and almost asks if you think it’s really best to keep going with the whole friends with benefits thing. He likes you and means well. Maybe it’d keep everyone’s feelings safe if you and Eren discarded the benefits part and stayed as nothing more than regular friends?

But right as he was about to voice his question, you had stopped by a street fruit vendor and turned to look at him with sparkles in your eyes.

“What if we get some pineapples? I could try and make that ice cream Eren never shuts up about”

Shit, he thought to himself. Maybe he had been way too optimistic.

Eren knows you’re not actually asleep. Not that he’s yet had the privilege of knowing what you look like when you’re sleeping: you never once stayed the night at his place, which was good enough of a reason never to spend the night at yours. He’s never had the chance to lend you one of his shirts or ask if the coffee he buys now is better than the one you tasted so many mornings ago. It’s not that he’s bothered by it, he just doesn’t understand what sort of thoughts prompt you to immediately get out of his bed (or off of his couch, or out of his shower, or down from the kitchen counter—), collect your clothes, flash him a smile and wave goodbye. He should be happy you do that, honestly. It’s always saved both of you from experiencing any unnecessary awkwardness. It’s convenient. It’s practical. But still, it certainly wouldn’t kill you to stay just once?

“Stop that” your nose scrunches, the light touch of his fingers tickling you.

“Be an active part of the excursion, then” an airy chuckle leaves him as his fingertips skim the bridge of your nose again. You weakly swat his hand away.

“M’tired” you puff out your cheeks, eyes still shut. Eren rolls his eyes.

“It was less than an hour long hike”

“You own a trained body, I own an exhausted one”

“So you don’t want any snacks?”

Finally, you open one eye to peer at him, suspicious. Amused, Eren gently bounces his leg, the one your head is resting on.

“It better be Sasha’s avocado hummus” you grumble while making the process of sitting up dramatic enough for him snort.

“It’s something better: fresh fruit” Eren meets your shocked expression with an innocent grin.

“You’re a deceitful, unreliable little man” you playfully narrow your gaze as he pulls out a plastic bag from his backpack. He huffs.

“Stop complaining, these are from Kukiko’s garden”

“Kukiko?”

“Jean’s grandma. She pretty much raised him and used to give us extra treats before we set off for school” a small smile stretches his lips as he takes some peaches and a small knife from the bag.

“My granny used to do the same” you smile too, the sweetness of the memories coming to mind causing a pleasant warmth to spread in your chest “she’d pack my lunch and then several others for my friends, just in case their parents forgot. As if that could’ve been possible”

Eren looks up from the fruit he’s carefully peeling. He’s doing it with such attentive care you can’t help but wish, for a single, fleeting second, that he’d still be there to peel tangerines for you in the winter.

There’s fondness in his gaze, one you wish you didn’t notice because it never fails to emerge whenever you share something personal, something belonging to a life he knows little to nothing about. He makes it painfully clear that he’d love for that door to be left half-opened for him.

“D’you visit her from time to time? I assume she still lives in the countryside”

If the pang of sadness that clutches your throat and digs deep into your stomatch could have a physical representation, it’d probably be an icicle. Cold, harsh, unforgiving.

“I’m sorry” Eren catches the change in your stare before you have the chance to say anything. With a small, bitter smile, you shrug.

“It’s okay. It’s been years. Doesn’t get any easier, though”

You’re sitting very close to each other, so he gently nudges your shoulder with his arm.

“Yeah. I’m sure she loved you a lot and that doesn’t just go away, you know”

“Jesus” you chuckle and lean your forehead against his shoulder to hide the embarrassing tears stinging the corners of your eyes “you just had to be good with words too, among everything else”

A silent laugh shakes him.

“What can I say, I’m gifted like that” he hands you one slice of the peach he’s still holding and you accept it with a scoff. The fruit is mellow, flavorful and tangy as it melts in the back of your throat. It almost makes you want to cry again.

The observatory was his idea, one of the very few remaining places he didn’t have the chance to take you to. Despite it having a large parking lot, restrooms and vending machines, it’s a sightseeing spot not many tourists come to know about, so it’s mostly empty. The view is stunning and, truth be told, you didn’t mind the hike either: despite the inescapable sun shining high in the sky, not a single cloud in sight, you enjoyed climbing the path dotted with many tropical plants. Hibiscus, adan trees, cycads, Eren indicating and naming each one along the way.

From where you’re sitting, you can see the white lighthouse you had visited a few days prior, Eren’s friends having planned a picnic nearby that soon gave them the perfect excuse to take you all the way to the top of the abandoned tower. Connie smiled upon seeing your expression morph into pure wonder as soon as Sasha removed her hands from your eyes: you don’t remember seeing an equally breathtaking view of the ocean sparkling beneath your feet, ever. If you squeeze your eyes really hard, you can almost discern the small bay you remember Armin helping you locate on the northernmost tip of the island.

You’re not sure why Eren bothers hanging out with you when his days are less busy, why he doesn’t mind spending his morning sharing fresh fruit underneath the July sun instead of being with his friends or riding a wave. Sure, you count as a watered-down version of a friend too at this point, and spending time with him feels so natural sometimes you wonder if you haven’t actually known him for a longer time.

But it also feels intimate, oddly more than the moments when he’s pushing inside you. It’s easier to kiss him than to hear him laugh at your jokes, especially when the sun hits the green of his eyes just right and you feel the sudden urge to tuck those stubborn strands behind his ears. It’s easier to have his arms around you, lips tracing your collarbone, because that means he won’t be looking at you in that infuriating way of his, genuine interest floating in such intense irises whenever he asks a question in patient anticipation of another piece of yourself you may or may not decide to unravel for him. 

Eren gently presses his thumb between your brows, to smooth out that little crease you get whenever you get lost in thoughts he isn’t allowed to access. His hand is still wet and sticky from the peach you’ve shared, so you pull back with a grimace and he laughs.

“So pensive today” he brings that same thumb to his mouth to clean all the fruit remnants “didn’t even ask me if I really didn’t bring anything else to eat”

“Did you?” your brows shoot up in interest and he rolls his eyes, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“I mean, you’re insufferable when you’re hungry”

And just like that, he pulls out some neatly packaged banh mi sandwiches, the ones you remember casually mentioning liking to Sasha at the picnic by the lighthouse while he was busy discussing something else with Jean. As you stare at the herbs and mayo sticking to the clear cellophane, it’s hard to blink back the surprise. Or to swallow the lump in your throat.

Oh, no.

“Eren” you mutter his name carefully and he tilts his head with a responsive little hum “I kinda want to kiss you right now”

Another mirthful laugh echoes through the calm, fragrant air. Thank god he hasn’t noticed the unusual hesitation laced into your tone because yes, this is a need, but also a test you’re not sure you want to know the output of.

He inches closer and gently tilts your head up with the softest grasp of your chin, lips pressing to yours in a chaste kiss that sends shock waves through your veins.

Oh, no.

Eren has to resort to quite the amount of self restraint not to chase your lips when you pull back, features impenetrable once again for god knows what thought now crossing your pretty little mind. He can feel his heart drumming in his ears, the scent of your hair and sunscreen mixing together well enough to almost, almost make him sigh. By now there’s a giant, neon sign hanging over your head that reads proceed with caution, presence temporary. It blinks at him, flashing at regular intervals. He doesn’t like it one bit.

“How come you’re not in a relationship?” the questions rolls off his tongue before he has the chance to decide if it’s even appropriate to ask something like that so bluntly. It’s clearly not, given how your lips purse. But even as he realizes your reaction indicates some discomfort, Eren doesn’t apologize nor does he take the question back. He wants to know something new and while anything will do, this is a topic he holds a particular interest for.

“I was, we broke up a couple weeks before I booked this trip” you clear your throat, attempting to come off as unbothered with a slight shrug of your shoulders.

“So I’m the tropical rebound?” he’s being playful but you catch the slight seriousness embedded in his words and shake your head.

“No. You’re nothing like him”

“Ouch?”

You huff, impatient.

“Last time I saw him, he was balls deep inside one of my friends. You’re nothing like him”

Eren pulls a face but there’s relief expanding the lungs in his chest cavity.

Not so ouch-worthy, after all.

“Well, that sucks”

“Right?” you smile “this would be a good time to list all the wonderful qualities he’s going to be missing out on”

The half-joking tone isn’t enough to prevent him from taking your request seriously.

“I can’t imagine scoring someone like you and then just fucking it up so royally” he scoffs “what an idiot”

“Once again, such a way with words” you hope your teasing is enough to hide the heat crawling up from your chest to the very roots of your hair. Eren starts to unwrap your sandwich a little too harshly.

“I mean it” and god help him, he really does “who’s gonna insult his coffee now, I wonder?”

You’d playfully smack his arm and feign annoyance if it wasn’t for the smile he gives you, the faint shadow of a dimple teasing his left cheek as his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“How come you’re not in a relationship?” you fire the question back as you accept the sandwich he hands you, the first bite already having you swallowing back a moan. The cilantro leaves really do it for you.

“No particular reason” he shrugs “we broke up a few months ago”

“Amicably?”

“Yeah. We were together for a little over a year, it just gradually faded. I know it sounds sad as shit but really, we were friends before and we still are now”

“Why is everyone in your life just so wonderful and mature?” your grumbling draws a chuckle. He appreciates that you refer to his friends as wonderful people.

“I mean, my previous girlfriend told me she fell out of love with me on my birthday and then I found out she’d been dating her coworker for two weeks”

“Hmm. Yeah, you totally just evened that out”

“I did my fair share of asshole moves over the years, it’s how life goes. But you grow and hope to become a better person” he pauses “not like your ex. Fuck that guy”

He mirrors your airy laugh and you both finish your early lunch in comfortable silence, the ocean glistening underneath the same sun pleasantly heating up your cheeks.

Eren likes that you’d kiss him over something as trivial as a homemade sandwich, he likes that it doesn’t feel weird either, given that you only really touch each other when his friends are not present. It would be strange to act any differently, it would feel odd and awkward and wrong. It would feel like a relationship.

When the breeze decreases in intensity and it gets too hot to stay at the observatory, he suggests taking off. However, before you hit the road once more, you draw out your phone and ask him if he’d take a picture of you. It’s a funny reminder that you’re still a tourist, renewed amazement dancing in your features every time you turn to look at the scenery. Of course Eren agrees and carefully snaps a few pictures from different angles, so many your smile becomes a giggle and you actually attempt to snatch your phone out of his hand when he refuses to stop.

“Take one with me” you propose unexpectedly “so I can look at it and miss summer once I’m back in Tokyo” and miss you, you mentally correct yourself.

Eren stares at you for a second, brows furrowed. It’s the first time you openly mention your future departure, a detail he’s been familiar with ever since meeting you. Still, hearing it out loud brings the detail to a new level of concreteness. The sudden reality of it tastes bitter on his tongue as he bends down ever so slightly when you complain about feeling too short with his arm around your chest, safely tucking you against his. He keeps it friendly, basks in the warm sound of your giggle when you take the phone from his hand and he has to rest his chin on your head to be included in the picture. He keeps it friendly, even as he wonders if you’d look cute together, perhaps in a shot that captures that tender look in your eyes while his lips press to your temple.

Maybe it’s that specific thought that prompts him to blurt out the question.

“Stop moving”

“But it tickles!”

“If you make me screw this up I’m gonna have to start from scratch!”

Sasha huffs and her breath is warm on your cheek as you inch closer, ring finger under her brow to lift her eye firmly. The gentle way you’re stretching her skin is enough to keep her eyelid smooth, which allows you to apply the eyeliner in short, light strokes from the inner corner to the outer corner of an eye she’s having such a hard time keeping shut. Regardless, the wing looks sharp enough, although you decide to fix both her eyes with just a tiny amount of concealer.

When Sasha casually asked you do her makeup for the evening, you felt equal parts flattered and terrified of failure. You wanted her to feel pretty exactly the way she wanted to, which is why you both spent an embarrassing amount of time going through her belongings and planning the process each step of the way, refusing to accept her bubbly do as you please, I trust you!

She looks beautiful but that’s not really something you’d count as your success. She always is.

“Are we done?” you can tell she’s excited to peer at the final result, which makes you smile.

“Almost. Just missing lipstick”

You pick up the shade she decided on, a nice nude with a pink undertone that goes well with her fair skin.

As you attempt to gently sketch the lip liner around her lips, she giggles again, only keeping still after meeting your glare. Because you’ve been warned that there’d be food involved, you decide on further securing your work of art: after applying lipstick on top of lined and filled lips, you also apply some setting powder over it and then blot her lips with a tissue paper.

“Now you’re ready to win over that new coworker of yours” you grin as you hand her the small mirror she keeps on her desk.

Sasha’s eyes widen.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about”

“Sure you don’t. Tall, blond, smile that could shake the earth…”

“Hey, I never said that!”

“So you do have an idea after all” you grin and promptly dodge the small, heart-shaped pillow she snatches from her bed to throw at you. She then focuses on her reflection for a few seconds, finger nervously twirling one of the loose strands escaping her low bun, eyes anxiously scanning her face from different angles.

“Sash, you look gorgeous” you gently take the mirror from her hands “how about you go get dressed? I’ll clean up here and then we can head out”

She sighs but gives you an appreciative, little smile in turn. Then, her brows knit.

“Wait, what are you going to do with your hair? And what are you going to wear? I didn’t see you bring anything”

“I mean, I already did my makeup. I wasn’t planning on changing anything else, I’m ready to go”

“Are you shitting me?”

The horrified look on her face suggests that perhaps the casual floral dress you have on wouldn’t be too appropriate for the star festival she’s been gushing over for two weeks.

You awkwardly shift your weight from one foot to the other.

“I didn’t really bring anything fancy” you’re mortified. How could you not think of checking a store or two? This night is clearly a bigger deal that you had anticipated.

With a huff, Sasha gets up from her desk chair and starts a frantic search in the depths of her gigantic (and quite overflowing) closet. Dresses, tops and skirts are violently snatched from their hangers and drop to the floor in colorful puddles until she finally finds whatever it is she’s looking for.

“Sasha, I really can’t” your lips are parted in surprise, mesmerized by the sheer beauty of the yukata she’s holding.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I won’t let you walk out in that”

“It’s too much, really, you should wear it!”

“I already have mine and it’s prettier” her grin is void of any actual malice “can I help you put it on?”

You swallow, so flattered that she trusts you enough to lend something so beautiful and certainly important to her. There’s a silly feeling squeezing your stomach and threatening to bring tears to your eyes, a gesture so simple that makes you feel not just welcome but accepted in a way that doesn’t feel temporary anymore.

Sasha comes closer, whatever emotion has your mind feeling all over the place must be clearly noticeable from the outside because she puts a hand on your shoulder with the softest smile, squeezing gently.  

“This is not the time to get emotional, we’ll get there but not tonight. C’mon, let me” she holds the yukata up and wiggles her brows, succeeding in drawing a giggle.

“Sorry. Yeah, okay, let’s do it”

You get undressed and like the expert she clearly is, Sasha waits for you to slip your arms into the sleeves before adjusting the hemline to cover your ankles while aligning the center back seam with your backbone. She brings the right-side overlap to the hip bone on the other side, then layers the left-side one over the former. A waist cord is tied around you right above the waistline, from the front to the back, crossed and then brought back to the front to be secured. Sasha makes sure to tuck away the loose ends between the wrapped cord and places he extra-folded overlap over it.

She checks you all around and hums, satisfied. The obi is white, it matches the beautiful flowers, leaves and branches ramifying across the baby blue fabric of the traditional piece of clothing. Sasha wraps the obi around your waist from the back to the front, layers it neatly to ensure that it will not become loose. She then carefully straightens it and places its end on the back. After some holding, pinching, wrapping and tucking, you can feel what you have no doubt is a perfect bow pressing into your back.

“Done!” she doesn’t give you the time to say a word, impatiently pushing you towards the full length mirror glued to one of her closer doors.

It’s… well, something. You have never worn an actual, traditional yukata before, the ones you own are pretty cheap and the fabric is nowhere as high in quality as the one you can feel against your skin now. Soft, airy, comfortable, you can’t help but smile and think it kinda suits you.

“I didn’t think I could pull off something so gorgeous” you check yourself from different angles, admiring the result of Sasha’s skilled ministrations. Her reflection smiles back at you.

“You’re stunning. Eren is going to flip out”

Your heart jumps in your throat at the mention of his name.

“He’s not” you chuckle nervously “he’s used to me by now”

Sasha giggles.

“Please, you don’t know how he gets with this stuff. He loves this festival more than any of us, seeing you dressed in traditional clothing, in his favorite color, will make him flip out”

“I’m not wearing it because I want him to flip out” you protest, sudden panic bubbling in your chest. His favorite color? Is that why she…?

“My god, you’re weird” Sasha cocks her head, seeming genuinely confused “let me fix your hair and then I’ll get dressed, we’re already late”

She could’ve told you so much more. That she finds it interesting and exhaustingly stubborn, that you wouldn’t like the man you’re dating to be all over you. She knows dating is not exactly what you two have been doing but Sasha also knows her friend well enough to guess when he’s falling for someone and boy, has he fallen for you. She could’ve told you that he’s spent two weeks going over the fact that he’d invited you to the festival multiple times, wrecking his mind (and theirs) with a vortex of thoughts inevitably spiraling out of his usually solid control.

I don’t know what came over me.

She’s gonna think it’s weird, isn’t she?

What if she hates it?

And when Connie flicked his forehead, urged him to get a fucking grip and reminded him that friends can hang out and go to festivals and enjoy some time together even outside of the disgusting sex dungeon he insists on calling home, Eren sighed and deflated in his seat, something about his features being so heartbreakingly conflicted even Jean didn’t feel like cracking any other jokes.

Sasha knows this night holds a special meaning to him, the festival he’s loved so dearly ever since he was a child, when he got to experience it hand in hand with his parents. The festival they always attended together, when their group was still far from falling apart and no one dreamed of leaving the island yet. The special occasion that rarely ever included girls or general outsiders, the one night he jealously kept to himself, his friends and his family.

Not all of them share his devotion for the star festival, Connie notoriously taking advantage of the sparkling setting to hit on every pretty girl within a 3-foot radius, but they understand it. The fact that he wants you there means more than what you can imagine and the whole thing would fill Sasha with joyful relief if it wasn’t for the fact that you are going to leave in less than two months and she knows the ashes they’re going to be left picking up are going to weigh heavy in their hands.

But she’s not mad at you because how could she be when you make her friend happy and he clearly makes you happy too? Eren’s not the only one who’s gonna get burned, the real tragedy is that you’re both still too blind to acknowledge it.

You head out shortly after, in the extra geta sandals Sasha has insisted on lending you. No one is there to pick you up but she lives fairly close to downtown, where you’ll meet the rest of the group.

“They’re usually easy to find, probably going to be glued to a yakitori stand” she’d said, making you smile. Sasha looks nothing less than dashing in her handmade crimson yukata and golden obi, you genuinely think that Niccolo guy would be an idiot not to shoot his shot the moment he sees her.

You come to learn that what you’re attending is the island’s own version of the tanabata festival, the only night deities Orihime and Hikoboshi are allowed to meet despite the milky way separating them. Back in Tokyo you and your friends would write wishes on small pieces of paper and hang them on trees. However, tonight people will entrust theirs to floating paper ships released into the ocean.

The celebrations had started in the afternoon so you have missed the parade but you’re well in time to enjoy everything else: the streets you have come to know by now, are filled with a crowd you couldn’t believe would fit in a space rendered narrower by dozens of colorful food stands and amusement booths. The air is fragrant, different smells mixing interestingly well together as vendors shout over each other to attract clients and tourists. Some of them wave back at Sasha and offer free samples for her to test out. You return their bows with a smile and then trot away with your friend to resist the temptation to pause at every single stand and get one of everything. At some point, she does stop to get a seafood okonomiyaki but you’re still trying to decide between a portion of takoyaki and some good ol’ yakisoba when Sasha lets out a squeal and excitedly waves at someone standing a few booths away.

You turn around just as the guys approach her, all smiles and giddy greetings. They look better than expected in their yukatas, the most eclectic one being Connie who is sporting a pattern of turquoise waves on a white background and a headband decorated with the rising sun motif and the kanji for “number one”.

As you take a tentative step forward, Sasha moves sideways just enough for you to unexpectedly meet Eren’s gaze, which has been focused on you from the very first squeal his friend let out. And yet, he finds himself so pathetically unprepared for the sight, for how rapidly his heartbeat increases in pace. He doesn’t even attempt to hide the wonder in his eyes as he smiles down at you and that unfiltered, pure astonishment in his gaze is more than enough for your pulse to spike. You’ve lost count of the oh nos at this point.

He opens his mouth to say something but Connie’s admired whistle comes faster.

“Yo, you look hot as shit!”

The spell doesn’t break even if you all melt in chuckles and you thank him with an exaggerated bow. Sasha clears her throat and takes him by the arm, Jean’s friendly thumbs up and the flash of Armin’s sweet smile the last things you see before the group starts moving forward and towards another stand.

“What he said” Eren’s voice comes out different, there’s no sign of his usual confidence and you can sense some weird nervousness laced into it. It makes you want to take his hand.

“You look really good yourself” you say, although good is a heavily simplistic way to depict what you’re actually looking at. The indigo yukata compliments his tan skin and further enhances (something you could not deem possible) the color of his eyes. It’s slightly open on the front, to reveal his smooth chest, and the hair he’s tied back leaves you no chance of escaping that intense stare of his. He’s perfect.

As Eren motions to the rest of the group with a graceful gesture of his hand and you walk side by side, you think you hear him mutter something very similar to a “not even close” under his breath.

“So” his eyes are back on you the second you speak “what should we eat?”

“Ah, you have to try Ryo’s takoyaki, he has a special recipe for his mayo” Eren smiles and, without a second thought, grabs your hand to drag you away from the stall where Jean and Armin are buying a grilled squid each.

“Wait, they’re still—”

“They’ll find us”

And just like that, the warmth of his fingers and the broadness of his back are the only things you can focus on as he guides you through the bustling crowd.

He introduces you to yet another acquaintance of his, Ryo smiling fondly at him and insisting for five entire minutes on the takoyaki being on the house. Eren scoffs at your attempt at paying, genuinely offended, and after a heated argument Ryo eventually gives in and accepts his money. However, he winks at you as he hands you your portion.

“I added two extra ones, don’t tell him” he whispers and you share a chuckle.

Shortly after, Eren laughs at your wide eyed stare as soon as you swallow the first bite.

“What the hell is this?” you mutter, shocked “why is everything just so much better here?”

A softer smile lingers on his lips as he watches you gush over a food he’s eaten a thousand times, bite after bite an endless stream of exclamations voicing marvel he finds adorable. When Eren stops in his tracks and you turn around, confused, he almost takes your face in his hands and kisses you right then and there, for everyone to witness. Instead, he carefully swipes his thumb across your bottom lip as an excuse to collect some mayo from the corner of your mouth and then brings that same thumb to his mouth, successfully erasing any thought from your mind and melting every bone in your body.

“Maybe you should stay, then”

He’s serious, so serious your breath hitches in your throat. Especially because your first instinct is to reply with a yeah, maybe I should you definitely can’t afford to pronounce out loud.

He keeps you locked in place with a stare that leaves you no place to hide, the pads of your fingers tingling with need. You want to kiss him, you want to stay. He wants you to. He’s waiting for you to say something.

Why?

Ask me to.

Tell me why.

Convince me.

I can’t.

But do I want to?

“Or, I could take Ryo to Tokyo with me” you swallow the ashes in your throat and attempt a smile. He purses his lips and it sucks that you can discern the disappointment flashing in his eyes. Just for a second, then it’s gone, pushed away, and Eren brings back his handsome smirk.

“I’m sure he’d love that”

He wasn’t planning on half-asking you to stay, not right now, not like that. He didn’t even realize he’s hoping for you to stay in the first place. What the hell, who does that? What is he doing, where are his friends?

You don’t understand why, or perhaps you do and choose to ignore rational explanations for the time being, but you take a step forward and gently give in to the urge of taking his hand. It’s big, rough but warm in yours.

“Is this weird?” the question is so soft he can barely hear it and yet his heart seems to miss a beat, perhaps even two.

“No” he carefully slides his fingers in between yours and takes a moment to get accustomed to the sensation only to discover that he doesn’t need it “it’s not weird”

“Good” you smile “show me around some more?”

It’s unbelievable, the amount of people Eren knows and stops to say hello to along the way. Nearly every vendor, almost every booth, he makes sure to at least wave and if someone holds him a little longer, he squeezes your hand as he asks them about their families, sons, business. You recognize some of the tourists eager to have a word with him too, lots of them part of the groups he teaches to. Most of your mornings are not spent watching his lessons anymore: you’re too busy either putting into practice his teachings firsthand, or hanging out at the cafe with Sasha. If Armin and Jean show up too, you quite literally drag them into the water because you’re eager to showcase everything you’ve learned so far. When he’s done, Eren always comes looking for you anyway.

Once he’s made sure you’ve tasted a little bit of everything, your taste buds jazzed and your stomach a second away from exploding, you decide it’s time for dessert. Your treat.

“But you don’t know what I’d like?” he teases, mischievous glint in his eyes.

You roll your eyes.

“I’m gonna take a guess. Wait here and don’t peek”

“Yes, ma’am” he stands up straight and salutes like a soldier.

You wander away but not before sending him one last glance from over your shoulder. It makes you laugh that he’s still standing in the same way, silly, boyish grin mirroring yours.

Apples covered in sugar syrup are a no, way too sweet, and you skip the colorful clouds of the cotton candy booth for the same reason. You just know Connie is going to make an inappropriate joke if you get chocolate covered bananas on a stick so you opt for two portions of kakigori, shaved ice flavored with condensed milk and syrup. The consistency is smoother, fluffier in comparison to the ones you’ve eaten in Tokyo throughout the years and endless other summer festivals, this one almost feels like fresh fallen snow. You pick strawberry as your flavor and pineapple as his, kindly asking the friendly woman working at the stall to reduce the amount of syrup of his cup.

You can feel the yukata sticking to your back as you swiftly return to where he’s waiting for you, the dessert you have picked the perfect weapon against the humid air of the evening.

“Hey” you greet “saw you standing here on your own and thought, wow, that guy’s cute. Maybe he’d give me a chance if I bribe him with food” as you hand him the colorful cup, your fingers graze his. It’s disgusting that you think you’d like to bottle up that airy laugh and keep it close, listen to it whenever you feel lonely. It’s probably one of the things you’re going to miss the most.

“Good strategy, I’m sold” even his fake wink is attractive “you look like a tourist, how’s the vacation going?” he plays along with a silliness that makes you smile as you shrug.

“Not too bad, the locals are very friendly”

“And yet no one’s had the heart to tell you that strawberry kakigori tastes like shit”

You lightly stomp on his foot, brows furrowed in a frown he finds comical and way too realistic.

“Just changed my mind, I don’t want that chance”

He displays a sorrowful grimace as he brings one hand to his chest, the fatal wound given by your sharp words almost making him curl in on himself.

“But baby” he coos, bringing that same hand to cradle your cheek, thumb delicately skimming over your cold lips “who said I was going to give you one?”

He’s already laughing when you swat his hand away, an asshole muttered under your breath even if you can’t bite back your own smile, heart pounding with the same frenzy of a hummingbird. Eren’s only ever called you that while in compromising positions and the pet name never failed to prompt immediate reactions from your body but now he’s just kidding, in the middle of the street, among a hundred other humans passing by. He makes it sound every bit as devastatingly alluring as he always does, you suppose it’s a problem that you’d like to hear him call you that again right away.

“Eren!” a voice you don’t recognize snaps you back to reality and away from your embarrassing fantasies. There’s a pretty brunette next to him, hugging him actually, hands lingering on his chest even after she pulls back. He politely says hello, takes a step back but she follows the movement, with no intention of interrupting the skin to skin contact.

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you all night, Sasha said you’d be around” she has gorgeous gray eyes and the purple yukata looks amazing on her.

“Yeah, m’just taking a stroll” his eyes dart to you but it doesn’t seem like he intends to introduce you at any point. You take a step back for good measure.

“Wanna join us? Porco’s here too!”

He smiles.

“Really? I’ll come say hi in a second”

She juts her bottom lip out.

“Don’t be long. I thought you’d at least call me, especially after last night. You know I miss you”

Perhaps he had a point when he said that strawberry kakigori tastes like shit because right not it feels like concrete in your mouth. You know you don’t have any right to be upset, he’s not your boyfriend and by no means you expected your little arrangement to be exclusive. But even that’s not enough of a reason to stay any longer and hear the continuation of a conversation you’re not meant to be a part of.

So you excuse yourself with a smile, her gray eyes acknowledging you for the first time and for no longer than a second, Eren’s hand almost snapping to grab your wrist to prevent you from leaving. But you’re quick and also stupid enough to give him a thumbs up from behind her back before swiftly turning around and letting go of the breath that had your lungs burning. Thank god you spot Sasha and everyone else not too far away, they’re all positioned in a semicircle around Jean and Connie.

“Isn’t this game supposed to be for kids?” you whisper to Sasha and she giggles.

“Yes but they insist on trying every year. They never win anyway”

The game consists in scooping goldfish with a small paper racket that torns almost right away when contacted with water.

“Son of a…” Connie grunts when a child next to him succeeds in catching not one but two fishes among the applause of everyone gathered around the booth to watch. His mom glares at him and you chuckle.

“Can I try?” you chime in and Connie is happy to switch places, scowl so deep you can barely bite back a laugh.

“We need a new strategy” Jean whispers angrily.

“Maybe you shouldn’t swirl the racket like that” you smile and accept the new one the booth owner lends you.

He huffs but stops his ministrations to focus on your movements, the fact that he’s damn near holding his breath is hilarious but you can’t afford any distractions: there’s a mission to accomplish.

It takes more than a few attempts and you can feel the warmth radiating from Connie’s chest practically pressed against your back in restless anticipation. When you catch one fish at last, there’s another applause drowned in his howling: you barely have the time to let the fish slip into the plastic bag filled with water the booth owner is offering before Connie’s arms close around you in a hug that lifts you off the ground.

“Beginner’s luck” Jean is not as happy: it’s quite clear who’s going to own the fish you captured.

You lift your cup with an apologetic smile.

“Want some?” there’s another spoon planted in the soft ice, he may as well be the one to use it.

“Strawberry?” he asks with a grin, accepting your offer nonetheless “we haven’t taught you enough”

“She’s going to tell all her friends we’re such snobs” Armin sighs and you chuckle.

“Ohmygod we should go try the target shooting booth! Like, right now” Sasha tugs at your sleeve and Jean catches your cup right as you lose your grip on it.

“Wait a second—”

“Please, can we go?”

“I guess we’re going target shooting” Armin concedes and Jean shrugs, now the happy owner of a dessert he didn’t have to pay for as Connie gushes over his new pet.

“What should we call them?” he asks as your little group moves towards yet another crowded stall. You turn around, Sasha still quite literally dragging you.

“Mmmh, what about Floater?”

“I think Miso would be cute” Armin chimes in but Connie snorts.

“I like Sea Beast. Yeah, that’s the one”

You all erupt in laughter, Jean knowingly putting an arm around his shoulders.

“Man, I have a feeling you’re never gonna get laid again”

“Joke’s on you, women are gonna find me adorable as shit. Right?” he raises his voice on the last word and both you and Sasha look at each other, amused.

“I guess” she concedes.

“Yeah, that’s gonna be a killer icebreaker” you agree.

Armin huffs.

“Just don’t ask women if they’d like to come over to meet your sea beast”

Horrified, Connie’s mouth hangs open as he stares at his friend like he’s grown a second head while the rest of you just contain another fit of laughter, Jean almost choking on his kakigori.

As soon as you find a small opening to stand in line by the shateki stall, you understand why Sasha was so eager to try target shooting all of a sudden. Niccolo is there with his friends, waiting for his turn, and as soon as he spots her his eyes just light up. You gently untangle her fingers from your sleeve and give her a little push as encouragement. 

“Where’s Eren?” Armin stands in line next to you, Connie and Jean excitedly having a chat with other acquaintances of theirs just behind.

“He met a friend, I wanted to leave them some space” your tone is neutral but he furrows his brows.

“A friend? Who?”

“Some girl” you casually take a look around but you’re still unable to discern the prizes lined up on the shelves. Someone’s just lost if the disappointed groans coming from the front of the queue are an indicator.

“Ah” Armin clears his throat “well, are you having fun?”

A grateful smile tugs at your lips, relief settling over you like a soft blanket. He is the most considerate person you’ve ever met. How did this group of extraordinary people got lucky enough to find each other? You can’t help but think it’s a little unfair. It’s more than luck, maybe it’s destiny for them. Another pang of jealousy sticks in your stomach like an invisible needle.

“I’m never going to forget it. Not just this night, the whole…” you stop, because it feels so unfairly minimizing to address the whole thing as just a holiday.

“Vacation?” he’s gentle with the word, makes it sound way less depressing than what you would have. You acknowledge his reply with a little nod.

“You know…” he trails off “you could stay”

Just like that. You could stay. And it sounds so real, so doable, it breaks your heart.

“I really can’t” you murmur, head hanging low to hide the embarrassing teary eyes. You hadn’t anticipated to feel so at home among strangers who welcomed you in a heartbeat, kind and unpretentious and affectionate in a way you’ve never experienced. Saying goodbye it’s probably going to be one of the hardest things you’ll ever have to do.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you” Armin gently grazes your shoulder and you just have to smile. You trust him enough to know he’s not going to mock the wetness of your eyes.

“No, don’t apologize. I guess I’m just going to miss you all”

“We really are the most unplanned part of the entire holiday, aren’t we?” he smiles too.

“Yeah, thank god you are”

Armin melts in a sweet laugh but doesn’t have the chance to say anything because suddenly, Connie’s arms are enveloping the both of you, squeezing so hard you let out a playful groan.

“Why’s he the only one who gets to hear it? I wanna hear you say how devastated you are about leaving us, too!”

“Connie!” Armin attempts to turn around, probably to flick his forehead, but he only laughs harder and, despite yourself, you do too.

“I’m devastated and I’ll miss you a lot!”

He squeezes even harder, Armin cursing under his breath.

“We’ll miss you too” and yet, Connie’s voice is gentle to the ear, in sharp contrast with the suffocating embrace he’s holding you in. If you had any space to move around, you’d squeeze him too.

When you finally manage to get to the front of the line and it’s your turn to pick up the popgun, Sasha is still deep in conversation with Niccolo and you seem to be suddenly presented with a fun way to simmer some of the frustration still boiling in your core. Perfect.

You’re quicker than Armin and casually snatch the little pot of cork from the man owning the stall. There isn’t a specific prize you’re after, although the Squirtle plushie looks quite appealing.

You quickly learn that your aim sucks and Connie’s snickering from behind you at every missed shot is not helping. You appreciate Sasha interrupting her relentless flirting to cheer you on, though. That is until something warm and solid and oddly familiar presses against your back, bigger hands enveloping yours right after you push another cork into the barrel.

“You have to get the barrel closer to the target” of course his breath is hot on your neck, cheek grazing the shell of your ear as he corrects the position of your arms.

You huff but maintain your composure.

“What are we aiming at?” he whispers and this time you know it’s deliberate, the way his lips brush against your skin. He’s such a…

“Squirtle” you challenge and Eren hums, certainly not one to shy away from a challenge.

And sure enough, after knocking over a packet of chewing gum and a rubik’s cube, with a well placed shot you actually manage to bring down your target. It’s infuriating.

He grins as he hands you your prize and you roll your eyes.

“Please know I find it extremely annoying, how good you are at everything”

“You’ve never seen him play soccer” Jean’s grumbling is a welcome distraction from Eren’s eyes boring into yours but it doesn’t last long enough, thanks to Armin who drags him away and towards another food booth. How they even have any space left for more food, is beyond your understanding.

“Took me some time to find you guys, it always gets more crowded ahead of the show” Eren briefly glances at Sasha and flashes her a smile before redirecting his attention to you.

“I catched a goldfish for Connie” you internally cringe at your pathetic attempt at changing the topic. But Eren smiles, genuinely incredulous.

“Are you kidding? He finally gets to have one?”

You shrug, mirroring his smile.

“Fuck, can’t believe I missed that”

“Can’t believe you missed that either!” Sasha’s sour reproach chimes in even if she’s standing a few steps back. You mentally thank her but Eren’s glare meets no further comments.

“Hey, listen…” he clears his throat but is soon interrupted. You turn around and then peer downward when you feel something, or someone, pulling at your yukata. A young boy holding what you can only guess is his mom’s hand stares right back at you, expression as stoic as it can be.

“Excuse me, miss” you have to bite back a chuckle as he bows “that’s my favorite pokemon, my brother tried to get it for me but couldn’t. I was wondering, if it’s not your favorite, can I have it?”

Your eyes flicker to his mom, who seems a little uncomfortable and directs you an awkward smile.

“I told him he could ask but there’s really no need…”

“What’s your name?”, you return her smile but look down at his serious little face again.

“Hiro, miss”

“Of course you can have him, Hiro” you hand him the plushie and the biggest smile splits across his face as he holds it flush against his chest “my favorite’s Lapras. Water types are just the best, aren’t they?”

“Lapras is cool” Hiro condescends “but Squirtle is cooler!”

You all laugh, his mom erupting in several thanks and him turning around to wave at you before disappearing among the crowd. It makes you a little bitter not to have a little memento from such a special evening but it only lasts a second. It’s nice to know that Squirtle is going to end up in a loving home.

“It’s almost time, we need to head to the beach!” Sasha’s excited chirp has you turning around once more, Eren’s warm smile stays in your peripheral vision as you meet her gaze.

“Time for what?” you ask, tilting your head to the side slightly.

“The firework show!” Niccolo worms his way into the conversation and flashes you a thrilled grin.

“Let’s go!” Armin and Connie, standing a little farther, signal for your little group to hurry.

“I’ll catch up” you feel Eren’s warm hand press onto your back, giving you a gentle push. You deem unnecessary to investigate further, maybe he wants to go look for the girl he couldn’t dedicate the necessary attention to and invite her to watch the show with him. Who are you to intrude, or worse, wonder? You give him a quick nod and catch up with Armin and Connie, Sasha and her new companion right behind as you all head to the beach. You think it’s sweet that Niccolo has decided to ditch his group to tag along with her and you genuinely hope that whatever may be blossoming between the two, ends up working out. She deserves it.

As expected, the beach is packed with people sitting on colorful towels or standing, some bent over little wooden tables or balancing small pieces of paper against their friends’ backs to write down wishes that will soon be entrusted to the sea. You all take turns to write yours and when Jean hands you the thin piece of paper, it takes a few seconds to wrap your mind around what you feel like asking for.

A path, maybe. Something to follow to get wherever it is you’re supposed to be going. Or maybe the strength to leave, not to close yourself off to the world again. Happiness for your new found friends, because they deserve every ounce of the genuine affection they so naturally spread around. Health for your parents. There’s a new found feeling pounding alongside your heart, you want to visit them soon and let them know that you miss them and that you’re so sorry for not having been able to see them more. You want to share that you’re going to look for a new job and that hopefully you’ll be okay soon. Hell, you even want to tell them about this entire holiday. Sit on the familiar, faded tatami floor, share a cup of caramelized almonds and just let it all out. Would they even believe you can more or less surf now? Ah, you wish they could’ve met everyone. You wish they could’ve met Eren.

He comes shortly after you’re all settled on the towels people are dispensing on the beach, you’re left pretty much alone as everyone else is sitting next to whoever they’re busy talking to. Armin has run into a pretty blonde girl on the way to the beach, they seemed to know each other so for the second time in one evening you took a few steps back and gave them some space, made sure they could sit next to each other. Sasha and Niccolo are sandwiched together between Jean and Connie, the former is speaking on the phone with his lips curled into the biggest smile while his friend is seemingly socializing with a girl you don’t know, part of a bigger group that also seems keen to have a chat with a few strangers. The general atmosphere is so warm and, all things considered, the night has been so enjoyable, you don’t find it in yourself to be frustrated or disappointed anymore.

Eren doesn’t have anyone with him as he plops down next to you with a telltale grin.

“What?” you ask, tossing him a smile back.

“Nothing. Just lookin’ at you” he shrugs and you don’t buy it for one second but play along, gently nudging his shoulder with yours.

“Yeah, that happens a lot” for a second you don’t believe he’s going to remember the silly exchange that took place on the late afternoon of your first surfing lesson, so many days ago. The way his smile grows, tells you otherwise.

“People lookin’ at you?”

“You looking at me”

“Ah” lips pursed, he nods as if to indicate an obvious, given fact “might be because you’re beautiful”

“Ahh…” you mock, a weak attempt at dissimulating your self-consciousness “you fell prey of the charming tourist!”

He nudges your shoulder with his this time, tongue in cheek.

“Guess I really did”

Your chuckles melt into one another and you realize it’s probably never going to be possible to associate the rolling of waves and the salt in the breeze that soothes your feverish skin to anything else but him.

There’s a bunch of people by the shore, bent down to fill shells with small pellets while the latecomers frantically attempt to scribble down their wishes to send off the last remaining paper ships.

“Nothing happened with her” Eren stares at his friends as he speaks, quieter and attentive with his choice of words “we ran into each other and shared a beer, that’s all”

A beat passes, one where it’s hard not to acknowledge the absurd, unjustified relief washing over you.

“It’s none of my business” you’re not looking at him either, in fact your head is turned the opposite way, eyes focused on the little paper ships being slowly released into the dark ocean waters.

“It’s not” he affirms “but I wanted you to know”

So considerate and way too respectful of a person that’s supposed to be nothing more than an easily accessible reliever. It does something funny to your stomach.

“I think she likes you” why are you insisting? You shouldn’t care at all, it’s not your life and it’s not your place. You’re just a comma in the story.

“Too bad” Eren clicks his tongue and wishes you wouldn’t be avoiding his gaze, maybe then you’d recognize something within it without him needing to say the word.

As the paper ships continue to sail, a pin-drop feeling of despair suddenly washes over him at the thought of the material easily dissolving into the water, hundreds of wishes being swallowed and erased so easily. And still, in some distorted way, they’ll keep existing. Is that what he’s going to become for you, is that what he is? Just some paper figure that will lose consistency as soon as you step on that plane? Yeah, it’s exactly what he is and he was fine with it. Until each day spent with you has given him the feeling of wanting to be more than a fleeting detail in your summer, more than a cute story you’re gonna recall with friends and lovers once you’re back to a life he doesn’t belong to.

Will they recognize the crease you get between your eyebrows whenever you frown, deep in thoughts you never share? Do they know how you like your coffee, have they ever witnessed the charming inclination of your flirting? Are they already familiar with your witty comebacks and the way you laugh at jokes you don’t find funny just so that the other person doesn’t feel bad?

Did they ever have to bite back amused grins each time you tried to contain and swallow your annoyance only to fail miserably and explode in the face of clients who were being rude to Sasha? It was only a matter of time before you decided to help her on the mornings she was short on staff, until Niccolo showed up and made it easier. And yet you still feel the same responsibility to look after her, the same way you do for everyone else.

When Jean mentioned having forgotten to get a refill of surfboard wax, you casually made a stop to the store on your way to the beach and threw the small box at him. If Connie laments the lack of inspiration for his sketches, certain he won’t be able to get the job done before the deadline the publishing house has given him, you have entire sessions in which you both sit down and exchange ideas for charactes and stories and concepts for plots inspired by your beloved books. When him and Armin are done with surfing lessons or tired enough to simply catch a break from riding waves, most times you’ll materialize by the shore with two glasses of frozen lemonade and a knowing grin.

Why shouldn’t he get to keep you? Why don’t you want to keep him, your affection apparently solid enough to take his hand but not to stay? Is his fate really to melt away and be shoved in a far corner of your mind as nothing more than a fun summer fling?

“I couldn’t find another plushie” he clears his throat a little and when you finally look at him again, suddenly everything feels right “but you probably wanted something to remember this night by, so” the small keychain dangles from his pointer finger, even in the dark you’re able to discern the small silhouette. It’s Lapras.

Your lips part in surprise as you carefully hook one finger in the metal ring to slide the keychain out of his grasp.

“I know it’s flat and everything but I couldn’t find anything better. If only someone didn’t feel like giving up the plushie I worked so hard to knock down…” the teasing is good-natured and it draws an incredulous smile as your fist closes around the silly gift.

The firework show starts right as you meet his playful gaze, dozens of shells launched simultaneously in a cascade of shimmering yellows, greens and reds all reflecting in starry eyes that get to be so bright despite the darkness. The hand that’s not squeezing the keychain hard enough for the metal to painfully dig into your palm fists the towel you’re sitting on, it’s too close to the edge and you can feel little grains of sand making their way underneath your nails. Eren inches closer the same as you do, any other noise fades in the background when all you can hear is the loud thumping of your heart in your chest and all you can feel is the warmth of his breath on your lips as your noses are close enough to touch. Even when out of focus, he’s beautiful enough to take your breath away.

There’s hesitation, a thick tension coating the bubble enveloping the two of you and the small space left between what’s been and what’s about to change everything. He swallows, barely forcing himself to wait, to let you have control for once. But right as an invisible wire snaps and he gives in to gravity, closing whatever is left of the ridiculous distance between your bodies, someone plops down heavily next to you and you jump, lips grazing his chin as you turn with wide eyes. Eren exhales deeply, shutting his for a second.

“Can’t enjoy shit with Connie’s loud babbling” Jean pauses for a second, examining both your faces “did I interrupt something?” cautiously, his eyes dart from the shy look on your face to the way his friend’s glaring daggers at him.

“No” you’re quick to say “also, let him have his moment. You’ve been blushing on the phone for half an hour”

He opens his mouth in an outraged frown but is cut off by Eren’s chuckle.

“How’s Mikasa?” his arm reaches from around your shoulders to poke at his cheek with a harsh finger. Jean swats his hand away, cheeks dusted in pink.

“Shut up” he grumbles and makes a show of turning his attention back to the fireworks once more. With a giggle, you brush your hands off of the sand sticking to your sweaty palms, keychain secured in your lap. Eren doesn’t remove his arm from your shoulders, the weight of it equal parts foreign and comforting. You could easily get used to it, that’s what you think as you lean into him and let your head rest on his shoulder.

When you stumble back into his house late that night, sandals clumsily kicked off at the door, you collapse onto his couch right away. Your legs ache and your limbs feel heavy but the giddiness still hasn’t worn off and happiness is still stubbornly vibrating in your chest as you free your hair from the tight bun Sasha has forced it into. Eren sits next to you with a light groan, his feet hurt and he’s tired but it’s certainly not enough of a reason to refrain from pulling your legs up to rest on his lap, the gesture met with your weary giggle.

“Did you have a good time?” he asks, head tilted back and half-lidded eyes focused on your smile.

“The best time” you think of the little keychain resting in the front pocket of your bag and smile a little more.

Eren hums, fingers lazily massaging your ankles as his gaze flickers to the ceiling. He wasn’t planning on asking you to come over, his kitchen’s a mess and bedroom’s even worse. But right as you were parting ways and hugging his friends—now your friends too—goodbye, he just found himself blurting the question out. And although you’ll most probably find it hard to believe, it’s not even the sex he’s after. He just wanted the time spent together to stretch a little longer, when’s he ever going to have the chance to look at you dressed like that again after all?

“M’gonna fall asleep here if you don’t stop that” with an airy giggle, you faintly kick one of his hands away from your ankle. Eyes back on you, his lips curl into a tentative smile.

“What if you actually do?”

You tilt your head against the couch pillows.

“Pass out on your couch?”

Eren huffs, lightly pinching your ankle.

“Sleep here”

“How do you still have enough energy left?” you mutter to yourself and carefully remove your legs from his lap, escaping his warm touch. With a yawn barely hidden behind your palm, you tiredly motion towards his bedroom “fine, but I hope you know you’re gonna have to do all the work”

He snorts out a light laugh.

“I meant sleep, sleep”

You stay still for a second, then furrow your brows.

“So you don’t… desire me?”

Eren’s face changes instantly, dropping in quiet shock.

“What? No, I mean yes, I didn’t mean…” you cut him off with a hearty laugh, thoroughly enjoying the tender blush that blossoms across his cheeks. It’s his turn to frown and you can barely catch the small pillow he throws at you, a worn out idiot muttered angrily that only has you laughing harder.

“Fine” it’s surprising how natural it feels to accept and trespass a limit you’ve always been so careful to set for your own sake “but all my clothes are at Sasha’s”

“Just wear one of my shirts” he grumbles as he gets up from the couch and you follow suit, giggling when he shoots you another glare. Even if still feigning annoyance, he grumpily apologizes for the mess as he digs into his closet and picks up a clean shirt for you. You recognize it as he hands it, it’s one of the ones he throws on at the beach, usually when taking breaks at the cafe in between lessons.

“I’ll leave you to it” he clears his throat but then suddenly stops, one foot outisde the room and hand resting on the door knob “would you want me to sleep on the couch?”

Confused, you return a perplexed look.

“Why would I want that?”

Eren lightly scratches the back of his neck, not really sure how to word something you probably wouldn’t even guess he’s been paying attention to. You’ve never stayed, you have never spent an entire night in his bed. He never got to wake up next to you and has no idea if you’re a kicker or a bed hogger but that isn’t to say he hasn’t been dying to find out.

He doesn’t know how to properly say it so he simply resorts to the first true thing that comes to mind.

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable”

“You never make me uncomfortable”

The reply catches him by surprise, not because he finds it hard to believe but because you’re rarely ever this direct, gaze not faltering for a second while locked to his. With a small, almost shy nod, he shuts the door behind him to give you some privacy while you get changed.

He plans on keeping himself busy by tidying up the kitchen, frowning at his morning self who thought it’d be a good idea to leave a plate of unfinished eggs by the sink, leftovers of his breakfast now encrusted to the surface. But before he has the chance to at least attempt to scrape the remnants of what was once a decent portion of sunny side-up eggs, you peek through the door and call for him with a voice so thin Eren barely hears you.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, taking notice of your embarrassment.

“I don’t know how to take it off” you murmur and it takes everything in him not to chuckle. But it appears that you have memorized the meaning of each twitch of his lips, must be why you snort.

“I’ve never worn a traditional one! And I don’t want to ruin it, s’not mine” you grumble, not even giving him the time to acknowledge your fair reasons before disappearing behind the door once again. Eren clears his throat to disguise the little laugh that slips past his lips and prays you haven’t heard it as he makes his way to his bedroom.

You’re sitting on the bed, look at him with those big eyes of yours when he enters the room and for a fleeting moment he selfishly thinks he doesn’t want you to take the yukata off at all. Perhaps part of the night is still clinging to it, maybe taking it off means discarding each new, little moment tying you to him and starting from square one. Because he didn’t make up all those fragments still frozen in time and his memory, did he? His fingers in between yours in public for the first time, that look in your eyes when you took the keychain in your hand, the way he almost, almost got to…

“Hello? Do I have to call Sasha?” you’re standing now, waving a hand in front of his face. Eren blinks, snapping back to reality.

“Turn around” he demands, voice hoarse. You comply, mentally kicking yourself because of how the mere pitch is enough to send a shudder down your spine. It’s all you can think of as his fingers work their way through Sasha’s intricate ribbon, a few curses being muttered for good measure as he fumbles with the fabric, tugging and tugging in hopes of loosening it enough to take the obi off. Your back is pressed to his chest with each pull and it takes a deep exhale to keep yourself from leaning into him the way you’ve been dying to do for the entire night.

He pulls the bow one last time, not without a grunt, and the knot can finally be easily untied. You catch the obi before it falls to the floor and carefully fold it to then place it on Eren’s desk. It’s fine, he’s done, you can take it from here. So why does he keep you in place, hands on your hips a gentle warning to keep still as his arms wrap around you and his chest is finally flush against your back?

His fingers find the tight knot of the cord resting above your waistline and take their sweet time untying it, your heart stuttering erratically against your rib cage. Eren wonders if you can feel his heart on your back, it’s throbbing almost painfully and he swears whatever is left of his chest fucking flutters when you release the tension in your shoulders and melt in the embrace the cord was nothing but a pathetic excuse to initiate.

Yeah, he’s invited you to stay over with no malicious intent but what the hell? The damn thing is coming off, what’s going to be left of the night if he doesn’t seal it on you somehow?

He doesn’t let the yukata slip off your body, instead he accompanies it. Eren takes a second to appreciate the fabric gliding easily from his fingers, so cool, smooth and slick it reminds him of water. You do too. Just like water, a stubborn river or an unstoppable downpour with its persistent dripping, you have drilled yourself into his very being and patiently shaped every corner to make sure it could accomodate you and no one else.

Of course you don’t see the point in staying still: patience wears thin whenever he’s there for you to have. You barely ever allow him to take his time, always so eager to get what you want and him yielding without fail against his better judgement. Look at what you’ve become, just because he’s never been determined enough to teach you any better.

As you spin in his embrace, Eren lets you have it your way for a moment. He lets you take his face in your hands and dips his head to meet you halfway, a whimper already easing from your throat as you command his lips to part with the tip of your tongue. Again, he indulges you, lets you lick into his mouth and clumsily untie his yukata, allows it to unceremoniously pool at your feet. But you attempting to drag him toward the bed with you is where Eren draws the line.

His hands are not smoothing over your hips anymore, they feel everything else as they rise to cup your face. He only allows himself one harmless nip to your bottom lip, nothing but a gentle warning as his hold grows firmer to keep you in place while he finally kisses you the way he’s been dying to for so long. It’s unrushed and deep and he hopes to god the slow swipes of his tongue over yours are sweet because he’s certain he doesn’t want to taste anything else now that he’s tasted you like this.

“Eren…” it’s the only thing you have enough air in your lungs to rasp when he shows enough leniency to let you breathe, pulling back only to nudge the tip of his nose against yours.

“I’m here” he whispers back, head dipping lower to lightly nip at the spot where your pulse taps against your skin so fast it’s almost flattering. The way he lightly sucks at the skin of your neck draws another whine.

The change of pace, those butterfly kisses he slowly drags across your jaw are a novelty so unexpected you have to tighten the grip on his arms, sharp nails digging into the skin of his biceps as you urge him closer and attempt to steady yourself at the same time because you hardly trust your legs at the moment. When you breathe out his name again, mind short-circuiting as your head falls back to grant him more access, he hums comfortingly.

“What is it?” it’s exhilarating how you’re melting like soft butter under his touch and yet he’s the one feeling delirious over a hunger with smoother edges that now accomodates something bigger, something as tender as the sound you let out with a shuddering breath when he gently scoops you up and kisses you again while attentively settling you on his bed. You keep him close, arms around his neck not loosening for a single moment.

“What is it?” Eren asks again in a murmur, big hands resting on each side of your thighs to make sure they remain locked around his waist, abdomen tense to keep his balance on his knees and avoid crushing you.    

You’ve never seen a gaze so intense, you never took it slow enough to count his heavy breaths and notice the painful thumping of your heart nor the unfamiliar wooshing in your ears. Holding eye contact is overwhelming and your stomach clenches at the coldness of one of your legs when one of his hands abandons it, knuckles leaving a scorching trail of pure fire behind them as they gently graze the right side of your face.

He lowers his head but doesn’t kiss you, nose pressed to your cheek in a way that makes it hard for the both of you to breathe, in a way that feels raw and desperate.

“Tell me” he’s so close it feels like he’s whispering the words into your very bones, for a moment you think you can swallow them. The hand he gracefully sneaks between your bodies draws a breathless gasp.

I love you.

Time stops. The thought rings so sharply in your head, you’re convinced you’ve voiced it out loud.

You love him, of course you love him. How could you not?

It’s such a stupid revelation and there’s really no excuse, no plausible reason to justify the tears that sting the corners of your eyes.

I love you.

Eren pulls back to breathe, or perhaps just to look at you. Even if you remain out of focus from such close distance, even in the dim light that bleeds through the door into his dark bedroom, he sees enough. The tip of your nose, your furrowed brows, lips parted and swollen. He’s too busy thinking he wants you exactly like this, all the time, to notice the slight trembling of your body underneath him.

He’s certainly made his point about not being in any rush tonight but still he is waiting for something, it’s evident in those devastating irises piercing yours. You tighten the hold of your arms around his neck, a bitter taste on your tongue as you pull him closer to whisper the wrong thing against his lips.

“I need you”

Against all odds, he deems it enough. He can read all there’s to read in your gaze alone, he feels it in the familiarity of your fingers through his hair and is determined to hear it in all the ways he wants you to chant his name over and over again, in every possible pitch and inflection. He wants it to be a prayer and a revelation.

You already have him, all of him, and you don’t even know. So it’s only fair he makes sure you finally do.

You stir awake and the first things you register are the arm draped over your waist and the soft breath tickling your shoulder. Your body stills, frozen, equal parts terrified of waking him and absolutely scrambled by the rapid succession of resurfacing memories bound to the previous night.

The cautious, minimal turn of your head against the soft pillow results in a hitched breath. He’s so close already and only seems intent on scooting closer, unintelligible humming somehow louder than the thumping of your heart as his hold grows tighter and he nuzzles further into you, nose effectively buried in the crook of your neck, lips pressed to your skin.

You feel dizzy. Mind’s all over the place, unable to pull itself together and make sense of the events that hold the power to potentially disrupt you life, change everything you have so carefully tried to keep together.

Not a single time Eren has been bad at sex, he’s never taken your pleasure for granted nor has he ever chased his without first making sure you were either getting your fair share or felt the determination to focus on him and only him. It just took a couple of encounters to memorize your body, the angles and rhythms and grips and praises and sometimes the harsher words that render you either boneless or a mess whose loudness he never even attempts to swallow.

Eren can be attentive, rougher and impatient on certain days, slower and languid on rainy afternoons, when he gets you ready for him with such care pleasure melts into pure anguish. It’s never enough, you always need more of him and are not even shy enough to hide it anymore, shamelessly asking with an all-consuming force gradually blurring into straight up demanding. That’s when his low chuckle echoes like a melody. He enjoys every second of the reactions that showcase the effect he has on you.

But everything about last night felt different, from the way he kept looking at you to the newfound feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours over your head while the most tender whispers guided you through your high.

He’s done nothing short of worshipping you, featerlight kisses trailing from your ankles to your inner thighs, the slightest touch more than enough for your back to arch, every inch of your body and nerves catching fire as he kept stroking your hair and pressing his lips to your eyelids, all while reassuring you of you good you were being for him, how beautiful you looked, how perfect you felt. It’s a miracle you didn’t end up melting into a puddle underneath him, because that’s where he kept you the entire time, never once allowing your hands to grant him relief or your mouth to do anything else but welcome his. It was just you, nothing else seemed to matter in his entire universe and Eren didn’t so much as catch his breath until you were reduced to a babbling, limp mess that couldn’t even think about how to spell his name correctly.

And then he’s kept you close, pulled you into his chest as if scared you were going to slip away like the sand you probably brought inside the house with those sandals anyway. He’s kissed your forehead, the apples of your cheeks, all while the pads of his fingers were busy drawing lazy, airy figures along the curve of your spine, the very last sensation you remember before falling asleep in an embrace so warm and protective.

He’s made love to you. What’s more, he’s made love to you like nobody else ever has and now there’s no further ignoring it. God knows if you’ll have the strength to walk away from it at all.

“Hi” you wince when his sleepy drawl vibrates against your skin, lips sealing the simple greeting right below your ear. It’s the first time you wake up next to him, the thought is enough to have the rate of your heartbeat spike.

“Hi” you whisper back. His hand traces a smooth pattern along your side, up and down, then it settles right where your ribs reside, thumb grazing the skin gently and feeling the little valleys in between the cartilage.

“How are you feelin’?” he’s still not raising his head, position either too comfortable or simply ideal to give you some extra time to adjust to… everything.

“Good” you murmur but Eren senses your discomfort and can feel the stiffness of your body. So he withdraws his arm and scoots away, retreating to his side and placing his head back on his pillow instead of using you as one. But now you can meet his half-lidded gaze and lazy smile, as charming in the early morning as it is in the middle of the night.

“How are you feeling?” you can’t help but ask in turn, which is weird and formal and draws a low chuckle.

“Never better” although he feels more than better, he feels the luckiest he’s ever been. He feels disgusting and psyched. He feels so in love.

“Great” you clear your throat as you pull the thin sheet further up. Eren keeps looking at you like he’s foolishly trying to map out your features. As if he needs to do that, as if they’re not already burned into his memory.

“Hey” he warns, fingers delicately flicking your forehead “no freaking out before breakfast”

You peer up at him from long lashes.

“I’m not freaking out” of course you are and of course he knows but that won’t stop you from frowning in protest, mockingly distorting his words.

“Sure you aren’t” he smiles to himself and rolls onto his back to rub his eyes with a loud yawn that has you giggling.

“What are you, a blue whale?”

He clicks his tongue, feigning annoyance as he stretches and intentionally avoids your gaze.

“That’s no way to talk to the man who’s about to put together the best breakfast you’ve ever had”

Although Eren doesn’t want to get up at all. He doesn’t need food nor water as long as he gets to have you right there in his bed, as long as he gets to hold on to the hope of having you like this again and again.

“Whatever we’re going to do about this presumption of yours” you hide your smile in his pillow but he simply shrugs, not sparing you a glance as he gets up with a groan and collects some clean underwear from one of his drawers.

He only leaves the room after he’s playfully thrown his shirt at you, softness settling in the corners of his lips as he suggests you take a shower while he carries out his breakfast duty. Your heart swells at the attentiveness of it all, at the space he’s trying so hard to give you in hopes that you feel comfortable enough to catch your breath. Not to run away.

With a long, drawn out sigh, you comply.

The shower feels nice and his shampoo smells so good you don’t mind the absence of your coconut scented one. Of course he also has conditioner, there really is no other explanation for that hair.

As you tiptoe back into his bedroom wrapped in nothing but a skimpy towel, you catch the glorious sound of something sizzling in a pan and it’s enough to bring a smile to your face while you shut the door and rest your back against it for a moment. Your eyes land on Sasha’s yukata, staring back at you from the ground in all its glory. You rush to pick it up and carefully fold it, embarrassment burning your cheeks at how little you’ve cared about not ruining it. Along with the cord and the obi, you let it slip into an empty paper bag big enough to contain it because there’s no way in hell you’re walking home in that.

The shirt Eren has given you is long enough to cover your ass but certainly not enough to step outside without drawing scandalized looks along the way, so you dig into his closet some more and pick a pair of bermuda shorts that will certainly look ridiculous on you but remain the best option currently on hand.

After patting your hair dry with the towel to the best of your abilities, you grab the bag, your phone from his nightstand, and pray to be ready for whatever is coming. The flutter in your chest is not entirely unpleasant, right? There must be a way to make this work. Whatever it is.

It’s love, you goddamn idiot, a voice whispers from inside your dizzy mind. You pay it no mind.

“That was fast” Eren looks at you for just a second before returning his attention to whatever he’s cooking. You catch the smile anyway.

“Smells too good” you leave the bag to rest against the table leg and plop down on a chair. It feels like your seat already, given that he’s placed the mug you usually use right there, filled with coffee to the very brim. When he spins to serve the breakfast he’s prepared, Eren rolls his eyes upon meeting your already skeptical gaze.

“Just try it” he mumbles “I got a different one”

For you.

As you take a tentative sip, you notice everything he’s filled the table with. He’s pushing a portion of french toast in your plate right from the pan and taking a smaller one for himself, but there’s also a separate plate available for all the other options: fried eggs, herb cream cheese, strawberry jam, some honey, toasted bread.

He sits down next to you and meets your amazed gaze only to crack a boyish grin.

“I didn’t know what you liked”

“I’m impressed” you swallow the lump of whatever feeling got caught in your throat along with the coffee and raise the cup to indicate the object of your praise. As if he hasn’t already called all your bluffs.

“I get that a lot” he sticks his tongue out and it’s your turn to fondly roll your eyes.

It’s the first time you taste something he’s cooked and it’s so very painful to find out he’s good at yet another thing.

The intimacy of sharing a quiet, sunny morning at his kitchen table is not as overwhelming as you thought it’d be: he holds the power of making it easy and special just like everything else. You feel eerily at home, suddenly filled with giddy excitement at the prospect of experiencing more of these mornings. At the idea of him welcoming you into his everyday life with such ease, willing to buy expensive coffee if it means you accepting to stay long enough to drink it.

It almost makes you want to say it. As you laugh at the funny story involving one of the students he’s going to teach to in an hour, with your mouth stuffed with french toast and the urge to collect the cream cheese remnants from the corner of his lips with yours, you almost blurt it out.

I love you.

I love your smile and your kindness and how you stay awake for me if the wind blows too hard and I know you wonder if my roof creaks just like yours does. I love your life and your friends and how there’s so much space for everyone in a heart that may as well be as big as your beloved island. I love the touch of your hands and how you kiss me on the way home if no one else’s around and now I wish you could kiss me awake each morning.

“Stop” he playfully throws a crumpled up piece of his napkin at you. It hits you right between your brows.

“What? I’m not doing anything” you throw it back but he dodges it.

“You’re overthinking”

“I’m thinking exactly the right amount”

“Care to let me in so I can decide that?”

You open your mouth to entertain more of the familiar banter you hold so close to your heart but your phone screen lights up and the text you get is enough to capture your attention right away. Your heart drops to your stomach as you read it, the french toast still melting on your tongue now tasting bad enough to draw a pang of pure nausea.

“You okay?” you recognize the sincere worry in his voice, even as he attempts to keep it light.

“Yeah” locking your phone again, you place it face down on the table once more. You don’t think you can stomach a single other bite of food.

“I have to go now, will stop by Sasha’s to bring her yukata back. I borrowed that bag of yours, is that okay?” you’re not looking at him as you get up and he does too, confused.

“Yeah, of course” he follows suit as you quickly grab the bag still resting on the couch and shove your phone in it. Eren doesn’t have the time to enjoy the glorious sight that is you in his clothes, even with those ridiculous shorts everyone will surely be able to recognize as menswear.

But just as he thinks you’re going to leave him without sparing him a single glance, you stop in your tracks right before the door and turn around, the smile on your lips so artificial it makes his stomach churn with a sour feeling that erases all the sweetness that has coated his morning up until this very moment.

“Will you come over, later?”

There’s softness in the way you direct the question to him and he holds on to it for dear life.

“If you want me to” he replies with the same softness and something inside you just melts.

What you have to do is terrible, cruel in its unfairness, but unavoidable. So you should get to bask in a fantasy for a few seconds more, right? You should get to delay his disappointment, to give him a few more hours of peace of mind.

It’s heartbreaking, the way he perks up when you take his hand and bring the chapped knuckles to your lips.

“Of course I want you to” you don’t let go as you rise onto your tiptoes and tilt your head in a silent plea. You wish the relief he exhales right into your mouth could take root in your lungs.

When Eren kisses you, the crackling electricity is still there. But it’s the tenderness that makes your eyes burn, the way he takes your face in his palms and squeezes gently to make sure you’ll be looking at him as he pulls back enough to return your dazed gaze.

“We’ll figure it out” he says it so simply, so genuinely, you’re not sure you can get out of his house before he notices the tears.

You find it in yourself to nod and reach for another peck, because it’s probably going to be your last anyway.

I love you.

It’s that thought that carries you through the day, repeated over and over in your head until your lips follow suit and you’re muttering it like a madwoman.

You let the brief time spent with Sasha soothe your mind and it’s actually fine that she notices the redness of your eyes and the heartache embedded in your blank stare.

“Did he do something to upset you?” sometimes she reminds you of Armin, the attentive way she adapts her energy to match the one of whoever she is with is one of your favorite things about her. Although you’d much prefer a bubbly distraction at the moment.

“No, never” you reply with a small, bitter smile “I’m the one who’s about to do it, actually”

You tell her because she asks and because she’s part of the people you’re gonna have to say goodbye to. Since you’re absolutely not planning to go to the beach, you take your chances and ask her the odds of her breaking the news to everyone else.

“There’s no way in hell” she retorts with a glare so sharp it’s almost funny “they’d think you don’t regard them as friends. Connie would never forgive you”

With a light huff, you deflate against the backrest of her couch. Of course she’s right, they deserve a proper goodbye.

“I’ll come by tomorrow” you capitulate with a weary sigh and Sasha takes one of your hands in hers with a smile that never reaches her usual bright eyes.

“I’ll miss you” she almost whispers it and it takes everything in you not to choke up on your own I’ll miss you too as you squeeze her in the tightest hug you’ve probably ever given to another human being.

The first thing you do when you get home is get changed, his clothes are neatly folded and placed at the end of your bed because you can’t bear the idea of more of his scent clinging to your skin: you’re not even entirely sure the shower was enough to wash it off.

With a certain degree of fatigue, you pull the suitcase out from your closet, the sweltering heat of the room suddenly suffocating and unbearable. Even with the AC turned on, it feels like you can’t breathe.

You tear your clothes from their hangers, snatch them out of your drawers and toss them in your luggage, not even bothering to fold any of them. It’s better to do it today, you’re not sure you’re gonna have the strength to do it tomorrow and you definitely don’t want to spend your last day packing up.

Robert Lowell’s book is placed carefully on top of the chaotic mountain of clothes, it’s a gift you deem special and you’d hate to ruin it.

Connie’s sketch is stored in a plastic folder and you reserve it the same attentiveness as you put it right next to Armin’s book. It’s a stylized portrait of someone who barely looks like you: your eyes do not have that glow in them and your smile most certainly isn’t as bright. You like the overly accentuated features, he has a cool drawing style and it’s still so hard to believe he felt the urge to devote his free time to craft something so unique and meaningful just for you.

The sight of the tourist brochure draws a chuckle and you pick it up from your nightstand to open it and read Jean’s silly inscription for the umpteenth time.

She believed she could so she did: to a summer spent outdoors!

Right underneath, he’s scribbled a list of the best spots to visit, the vast majority of them comprising the forests he spends most of his mornings and afternoons guiding tourists through. You’re gonna miss his teasing smirk and predictable jokes, the way he nonchalantly worms his way into any conversation you’d be having with Sasha just to get a burger out of it.

One day you’re probably going to deem it hilarious, the fact that the brochure is what gets you. Fat, searing tears overflow at last, staining the stupid tank top Eren’s pulled over your head so many times you’ve lost count.

You end up sliding down to the parquet floor, knees to your chest as you sob pathetically, hiccup after hiccup until you’re shaking so bad you have to wrap your own arms around yourself in an attempt to calm down. Phone screen lights up again and you catch the preview of a text from Sasha, one picture attached.

Developing this today, so you can take it with you!

It’s most probably from the previous night, the only group picture you’ve ever taken in two months. If you close your eyes, you can almost feel the familiar weight of Armin’s arm around your shoulders and Connie’s chin resting on your head.

You catch your breath at last, cheeks burning and eyes puffy. Your limbs don’t carry enough energy to do anything else besides booking a one-way ticket, tossing your phone away and crawling onto your still perfectly made bed.

It’s funny, the hollowness your chest tightens around as you shut your eyes: you could swear the exact same spot had been so impossibly full of love and light just a few hours prior. It’s been so easy to get transported into some sort of fantasy world, a perfect reality that didn’t include your actual life at all. But you do have a life you have to get back to and it’s been foolish of you to allow yourself to forget about it. There’s a job offer you cannot afford to refuse because you’re two months behind on your rent, there’s the uncomfortable amount of stuff still waiting to be collected from your ex boyfriend’s house, the now irretrievably shifted dynamics of your friend group you have to navigate. And yet.

In two months you’ve met people that have made this holiday so special. Talking to them has given you the courage of opening yourself to the world like you used to do when you were younger and filled with hope. It felt like stepping into the sun after a long, dark, tiring night.

Who knew you could feel so free, wrapped in foreign embraces and inspired by unfamiliar routines, who knew you could meet someone who’d make you feel so lost and then, suddenly, found. Eren’s made you fall for him little by little, the invisible trickle of a covert fountain concealed by whispered conversations in your bedroom, failed dinners whenever you’d stubbornly insist on not letting him anywhere close to your stove, afternoons spent with your feet buried in the boiling sand in hopes to catch as little as a glance, the fleeting flash of a grin shot your way. He’s made you fall for him gently, the idea of crashing to the ground never once crossing your mind, bones still perfectly intact even at the mercy of his touch.

Eren’s disrupted you while keeping you whole. Even better, perhaps he’s given you an entirely new form. One that adapts easily to life and chases adventures and isn’t afraid of being seen.

You hate the idea of leaving him behind, insides churning at the mere thought of telling him you’re leaving with such short notice. But maybe it’s for the best. Those three words have been left hanging in the air after all, segregated in your minds and engraved in your bodies. You’re content with tricking yourself into believing that it’s a little less real, if you don’t say it. You feel it and perhaps he feels it too, but you’re just in time to nip what it is and whatever it may become right in the bud.

Unsurprisingly, the nap ends up proving to be absolutely useless and you wake up a couple hours later with a throbbing headache and an almost debilitating thirst. The birds outside are chirping mockingly as you lethargically drag yourself out of your bed and out of the room, the mess of clothes, bags and luggages still reigning supreme right in the middle of it clumsily stepped over without so much as a glance.

The living room is filled with corners you can’t look at, although you briefly wonder if the books stacked by the tv will be collected and eventually find a new owner.

After gingerly pouring yourself a glass of cold water, you climb onto the kitchen counter and check your phone. Sasha’s already had the picture developed is what you can guess from the picture of a big envelope she’s sent you a few minutes ago. There’s a flight confirmation email in your inbox and a text from Armin, asking why you’re not at the beach yet.

You actually end up turning the tv on at full volume while you finish packing, taking a break only to down a dry sandwich when the squeezing of your stomach gets impossible to ignore. No more pathetic tears gather along your lashes for the rest of the afternoon, turns out packing your things is a lot easier when you don’t care about how you’re putting them away. All your clothes are probably going to need a heavy ironing session once you’re back in Tokyo, quite the minor inconvenience.

When Eren arrives, he announces his presence as loudly as usual, dragging his saccharine helloooo because it always makes you laugh. He has bags in his hands because he’s once again stopped by the market just in case and is already grumbling about how you never keep your damn door locked when you get up from the couch to greet him.

“You really need to stop filling my fridge with so much food” the good-natured scolding meets the skeptical click of his tongue as he starts pulling out the groceries and piling them up on your table.

“Says the girl who raids said fridge and leaves it empty in the space of one evening”

You huff but Eren cuts you off before you can put together a comeback.

“It’s just some of Kukiko’s fruit and a few snacks”

“You mean those rice cakes, candy corn and ketchup chips you love?”

With a fond roll of the eyes, he finishes emptying the bags and waves a box of chocolate pralines half an inch from your nose. Your gaze flickers to the different products scattered across your table: peaches, figs, your favorite tourist-friendly ice cream and cream filled wafers. There’s just a tiny box of rice cakes.

“I actually wanted to get proper food and cook a nice dinner, you know, because you barely touched my fantastic breakfast” he flashes you a quick smile “but then I thought, I know this great place we’ve never been to and they make an incredible pan-fried salmon”

Eren knows something’s up, he obviously does. But that doesn’t stop him from taking your cheek in his hand to gently tilt your head up and let you meet his painfully hopeful stare.

“Will you let me take you out, tonight?”

Will you let me do this right?

Instead of taking a step back, you place your hand over the back of his to press his palm deeper into your skin. He doesn’t really know at what specific point he starts holding his breath.

“Eren, I’m leaving”

There’s a slight spasm of his lips, one that would’ve probably been imperceptible to a less trained eye.

“I’m aware” there’s a sour harshness in his tone he doesn’t try to bite back “I was hoping we could’ve talked about this later on”

Of course he knows you’re leaving. Still, the fact that this is the first thing you deem reasonable to bring up after the previous night, after that morning, is hurtful. Hell, he isn’t even allowed a full day of timeout from reality? Are you really that eager to remind him?

You press his palm a little harder.

“In two days”

The silence that settles over the small room is loud enough to make your ears ring, cheek brutally left cold as if your skin has suddenly turned scorching.

“What?” he attempts an incredulous smile “what d’you mean in two days? You said you’d leave in September, it’s barely August”

You take a quivering breath, forcing yourself not to lower your gaze.

“Something came up. I’ve been offered a job I really need and they want me in Tokyo by the end of this week, I really didn’t plan for it to—”

“Did you know?” he interrupts you with an aggressiveness you don’t recognize “this morning, as you were leaving, did you know?”

“Yes” you swallow the painful lump constricting your throat. He lets out a bitter laugh, one hand running through his hair in disbelief.

“Did you know last night, too? Before we fucked, I mean. That’s all it was to you anyway” he storms past you and before you can even think of stopping him, he’s pushed the door to your bedroom open. The sight of your packed up luggage makes him want to throw up on the spot.

It’d be so easy to indulge his version, allow it to gain consistency and distance yourself from whatever it is you’re both feeling. But you can’t bear the thought of betraying him twice, you decide you can’t carry the weight of a lie so big so you let it melt on your tongue.

“You know that’s not true” it’s pathetic, really, the strangled way words leave your mouth. Eren chuckles again, a sound so empty and dull compared to his real laugh. It breaks your heart, it makes you feel as if something’s clawing at your chest from the inside.

“What was it, then?” he challenges, it only takes two very angry, wide strides and he’s towering over you again “you can’t even say it”

“What good would that do?!” it’s unfair, it’s really fucking unfair that he’s handling the whole situation as if it’s hurting him more than it’s hurting you “what if I say it, then what? This entire thing was bound to end anyway! Even if I stayed, how do you know we wouldn’t end up going our separate ways in a month anyway?” so long for keeping tears at bay, you think as you angrily wipe your cheeks until they burn from the unforgiving friction.

“Fucking hell” Eren shakes his head with another mocking smile that makes your blood boil.

“What? Look at us, you’re already second-guessing everything about me!” you push past him and toward your couch, just to have something to lean against because your legs feel wobbly “acting like you’re the only one affected by this bullshit situation” words don’t come out as harsh as you’d like, dying in your throat instead as you fail to hold back a sob.

Eren stays by the sink with that irritating condescension he just couldn’t fucking spare you. As if you’re not shattered already, wondering how you’ll be able to put the pieces back together once more now that the edges are rougher and different and will probably never match each other again.

“You can’t do this. You can’t make me fall for you and then leave” he spits the last word like it’s venom and it actually burns on his lips. Eren’s never actually planned to ask you to stay, he never thought he’d be selfish enough. Turns out he was wrong all along.

When he says it, you can’t help the way your head lifts in surprise. He’s said it and there’s really no turning back now, no place to hide or run away to. It’s all over him, the disappointment you feel so responsible for, it’s in the way his fists seem to shake and in the sharp edge of his tight jaw. It’s in the way his eyes lack their usual spirit as they look back at you.

“That’s right” he mistakes the shock on your face for dread and allows for another smile to split across his face, nothing but a cruel mask distorting his features “bet that’s the worst fucking thing you ever heard, huh?”

It is. Because now your heart can’t stop its swelling and the flutter in your chest feels suffocating. It is, because somehow he’s fallen for you the same way you’ve fallen for him and if he’s experiencing half the sorrow currently knocking the wind out of your lungs, perhaps you should find it in yourself to be gentler.

“I’m sorry” you whisper it quietly, with a slight shrug and fresh tears staining your cheeks “I’m not doing any of this to hurt you. I wish I could decide to stay, just like that, but I don’t have a job and I’m behind on rent and, fuck, I think even the only coat I own is still at my ex’s house and…”

“What are we?” he interrupts you once more but there’s no aggressiveness this time. He’s quiet as he steps closer but you don’t dare look him in the eyes, choosing to focus on the milk white carpet beneath your feet instead. However, Eren’s not having any of it. With new found, blind obstinacy, he gets close enough to gently grip your chin and demand your attention. You’re a terrible liar and, by now, he knows all too well where to look for a lie in your stare.

“Tell me” he lowers his voice almost in a plea and the lump in your throat only grows in size when you catch the redness framing his eyes. 

“We’re friends” you whisper “before anything else. I hope we’re friends”

His grip on your chin tightens.

“What else?”

“Eren—”

“I’m in love with you” he sighs, in disbelief at how easy it’s been to pronounce the words out loud at last, a familiar albeit pained smile finally making its way to his lips as he lets you go “am I really that bad of a contender?”

But he lets go of your chin only to take your face in his hands right as new tears start rolling down your cheeks, unfazed by how useless it is for his thumbs to try and wipe them away. That’s finally him, embedded in the tenderness he holds you with.

“I want this” he mutters “I want you and yes, that may go away some day but you’re letting it go away now. You’re not even willing to try”

It takes so much effort to find it in yourself to gently grab his wrists and pull his hands down.

“You’re asking me to give up my entire life. Sometimes love isn’t enough, Eren, sometimes someone has to be an adult and do the right thing even if it shatters them”

“I’m guessing you’re the adult in this scenario whilst I’m being what, the irrational brat?”

“Stop putting words into my mouth” you tiredly wipe your cheeks again, so exhausted you can barely take another shaky breath in “you want me to stay. I can’t do that, even if I fucking hate that I can’t. You think you’re the only one with a broken heart in the scenario, as you called it, so feel free to turn this into another sad story you’re gonna recall with the next tourist girl you sweep off her feet”

Eren thinks a raw slap would’ve hurt less. He looks at you like you’re someone he can’t recognize and finally takes a step back with a slight nod of his head, acceptance slowly setting over his features.

A beat passes, one where the only sound filling the room is your accelerated breath.

“You never asked if I’d come with you”

And just like that, something slams against your ribcage but it couldn’t be your heart because you're certain it has stopped beating.

“You’d never do it” your tongue suddenly feels swollen in your mouth, too big and heavy to assist you in properly articulating a sentence “I know you’d never do it. You always say you can’t imagine yourself anywhere else” desperation gets the best of you and your pitch turns squeaky. Eren smiles another one of his sad smiles, the ones you’ve met today for the first time and are sure will haunt you in your dreams.

“Have you ever even thought of asking?”

For a few seconds, you believe those are going to be his last words to you. That is until he turns around by the front door, just a second, maybe to take a look at you for the very last time. That’s the real breaking point for whatever is left in your chest.

“Don’t expect me to be around to say goodbye, tomorrow”

A fragment of time is all it takes for him to be out, all signs of him having ever been there at all still scattered across your kitchen table. 

The AC system of Armin’s car is currently not working and you only find out once you’re seated in a boiling passenger seat. He chuckles when you turn to look at him in pure horror.

“You wouldn’t have let me take you if I’d told you. It already took me two hours of convincing as it is” he reaches across you to roll down the window, the hint of a guilty blush tinting the tips of his ears. His hair is lighter now than it was in the early summer and the flush of his cheeks is harder to detect now that his skin is tanned.

“I could’ve taken the bus” you rest your back against your seat with a light frown: the parts of your skin that are not covered by your thin tank top stick to the scalding leather right away.

“I know” he offers a soft smile “but I really wanted to do this”

Armin hated the idea of you having to go alone much like everyone else but he was the only one free enough to have a few hours to spare that morning. Sasha insisted on letting Niccolo handle the cafe for the day but she doesn’t own a car and the backseat of Armin’s Ford Fiesta is already taken up by your luggage and backpack. You resisted up until the very end, stubbornly insisting on being perfectly capable of reaching the airport on your own, mumbling some nonsense about not wanting to be a bother until Armin had raised a hand, resolute.

So I don’t even get to give my friend a ride?

Connie was the only one to laugh at the tears rapidly collecting in your eyes but it was a sweet, accomodating sound at odds with his usual exuberant cackle. Even he found it funny and kinda concerning that you still couldn’t grow accustomed to being considered their friend.

“Thank you” you return his smile and Armin nodds, giving your shoulder a light squeeze before he starts the car.

The small vacation rental that has welcomed and taken care of you for more than two months shrinks and then disappears in the rear view mirror, the morning sun bouncing off the scraped off exterior you’ve grown fond of.

You now recognize the small streets, alleys and shops you pass by, going as far as to lean out of the window to check if Masaru-san, who always treats you to an extra muffin on the mornings you drop by to buy his fresh bread, is having a smoke outside his bakery.

“Can I ask you somethin��?” Armin’s gentle voice draws you back into the boiling car.

“Sure”

He shoots you a quick glance.

“Have you at least told him that you love him?”

You suck a sharp breath in, caught entirely off guard. There was never a direct agreement of not mentioning The Topic during the one-hour drive but, given how considerate Armin always is, silly you kinda thought that’d be implied.

“I know it’s none of my business” he quickly adds because of course he can’t help himself “but I haven’t heard from him in two days and I’m kinda hoping he at least has that to hold on to”

“You haven’t heard from him in two days?” it made sense for him not to be at the beach when you dropped by to say your goodbyes, you never expected for him to show up anywhere else until he could be sure you’d be sitting on that plane but to disappear off the face of the earth? Not even talking to his friends?

“No. To be completely honest, we’re worried. He’s never done this before” Armin keeps looking ahead of him, tone oddly flat as if he’s having a conversation about the most casual topic.

“We had a fight” you mutter “didn’t exactly say goodbye on great terms. He’ll come around”

“That doesn’t exactly answer my question”

It’s not like him to be so pushy and you suddenly feel like the heat is too suffocating, the vehicle too small, your lungs too rigid.

“No” you clear your throat “but he knows”

There’s no point in denying or feeling embarrassed about it. You’re positive everyone knows anyway.

Armin hums, seemingly pensive, but doesn’t say anything. Your neck itches and the pads of your fingers start tingling.

“What?”

“Nothing”

“Armin, just tell me”

For fuck’s sake—

“S’just that Eren can be really dense. I bet he’s convinced this was nothing more than a summer fling for you”

That’s not true, he’s one of the smartest people you’ve ever met. Well, when it came to most things anyway.

“He knows” you insist, heart rate spiking for reasons not entirely clear. Armin shrugs.

“If you say so”

A beat passes, silence stretching past a comfortable interval.

“What if he doesn’t?” you challenge, exasperated “even better, he’ll get over it sooner!”

Armin lowers his head slightly, hands sliding to the sides of the steering wheel.

“He’s in pain” it’s not an accusation, just a mere observation. And yet it hurts all the same.

“I am too” why is it so easy for everyone to forget that?

Little do you know, Armin is perfectly aware. Everyone is aware. You’re wearing that pain on your disheveled hair and the bags under your eyes, it’s embedded in your dull tone and in how easy it now is for any word to draw tears.

It’s not like him to get involved in someone else’s life, especially when the situation is so raw and delicate but not even him is willing to just sit and watch two people mutually agreeing to ruin each other and leave it at that. It may not be his place but he’s prepared to dismiss his usual reluctance.

“I know” he’s driving way too slow for someone who’s supposed to rush you to the airport but you’re too distracted to notice “sorry, that was insensitive of me. You’re right, it’s for the best, he’ll come around soon enough”

You don’t say anything back, attention harshly grabbed by the view behind him. The sun is high already and reflects in the sparkling ocean you’ve grown so fond of. The sussuration of the waves lashing the shore doesn’t quite reach you but if you close your eyes and concentrate, you’re almost able to taste their pungent, salty smell.

Will Jean have some time to bring his surfboard to the beach in the afternoon, after a morning of work? Is the cafe as packed as it always is in the mornings, the usual mob of tourists forcing Sasha and Niccolo in an exhausting frenzy? Which table has Connie decided to bend over to try and finish that comic of his? Are his fingers stained with ink or did he go for the digital alternative today?

What is he doing? Can he afford to just disappear, neglect the surfing lessons?

You remember seeing Eren for the first time, running around by the shore accompanied by Jean with that charming smirk of his, occasionally asking strangers to join a volleyball match if they were short on players. You remember thinking wow, that’s a person that probably has it easy. He seems happy, is attractive enough to pull pretty much anyone. He sounded friendly and was literally smiling every single time you’d catch a glimpse of him, day after day, never short on energy. And then, you’re still not sure why or how, his eyes had actually found yours once, twice, then often enough for you to decide to do something about it.  

You still see it all in your head, painfully vivid and oh so alive. It comes in unforgiving flashbacks, from the first time he took your hand in his to the way you fell asleep in his arms less than three nights ago. And now you’re going away and what if Armin is right? What if he doesn’t even know?

“Stop the car” you murmur, mind not even quite catching up with your mouth yet.

Armin glances at you.

“What?”

“Stop the car for a second” you can barely stop yourself from slamming the brakes firsthand, hand brought to the column of your throat in a silly attempt to calm down. He quickly but safely pulls over, the car coming to a full halt when he turns off the engine entirely.

The first time you drew a sincere laugh, the first hushed conversation you shared on a humid evening.

I’m in love with you. Am I really that bad of a contender?

“You okay?” Armin is now only slightly worried he’s gone too far as he takes in the way your chest is heaving.

Have you ever even thought of asking?

“Hey—” you unfasten your seatbelt and escape his touch, quite literally throwing yourself out of the car only to slam the door and lean against it. Armin gets out as well and rapidly walks around the vehicle to check on you.

“What’s wrong? I have water, d’you want water?” if you weren’t so out of breath, you’d find his panic amusing.

“I’m fine. Sorry, just… give me a sec” the smile you offer him is probably more of a grimace but he’s too kind to point that out anyway.

Armin tries to give you the space to calm down but judging by the beads of cold sweat forming on your forehead, the process isn’t exactly going well. He feels guilty, mainly because his entire strategy has tragically backfired and he is on the literal verge of profusely apologizing until you meet his concerned gaze with heartbreaking despair.

“You think I should go to him?” your voice trembles and it takes everything in him to hold back the biggest smile.

“With some urgency” he quips immediately, motioning toward the car. He’s been dying to drive you there the entire morning.

You take a step forward, allowing him to open the door for you but make no move to actually step in again.

“C’mon!” he’s openly smiling now.

A beat passes, you shoot the car a quick glance and then return his smile.

“Keep an eye on my suitcase, will you?”

And then you’re just gone, sprinting in the opposite direction, dangerously close to passing cars and absolutely deaf to whatever Armin is yelling from behind you.

Incredibly, your legs carry you across the entire main street and your exceptionally keen senses assist you in dodging bikes and pedestrians and you think you may have accidentally run past Connie on the sidewalk at some point because you recognize a familiar go get him! already fading in the distance as you race until your lungs feel a second away from exploding.

The strappy sandals you’re wearing are absolutely inadequate for the marathon you’re running underneath the scorching sun and people look at you funny when you melt against the stand of a greengrocer to catch your breath. Nevertheless, with a hand pressing to a chest that’s never felt as tight, you’re soon on your way again, lips stretched into a frenzied smile and heart beating fast from both the physical effort and your favorite kind of anticipation. The idea of seeing him again gets your blood pumping, every other care or issue or flight disappears, literally fades to nothing in comparison to what you’re feeling at the thought of being in his arms again.

And yet you falter once you’re at his door, one palm resting against it and throat burning with every breath you attempt to take in, sweat dripping from your chin and running down your back. You’re far from having a plan or a solution to offer, the only thing you’re currently certain of is that you’re not gonna board that plane today. The rest, you can figure out together.

It takes some persistance and a certain number of violent knocks, your nuckles are burning by the time he yanks the door open.

“Jean, I swear to god if this is you again—” Eren freezes when he sees you awkwardly standing on the doorstep, phone trapped between his cheek and shoulder as he was clearly in the process of tying his hair back.

“Hey” you smile but then frown, puzzled “wait, who are you talking to?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it. Then opens it again.

“Thank fuck, talk to you later, bye!” a familiar voice chirps on the other line and you shut your eyes for a second because how could you fall for the oldest trick in the book? Haven’t heard from him in two days your ass.

“What are you doing here?” his guard is very much up and by the look of those dark circles you can only guess he’s slept just as much as you in the last two days.

“Uh, so, really funny story” you chuckle, painfully aware of your racing pulse and ragged breaths “Armin was driving me to the airport and we got to the seafront and he started talkin’ about you not knowing that I love you and stuff, which would be absurd because I’m sure you’re pretty much aware even if I never actually said it” you pause to clear your throat and take a hand to the currently cramping side of your waist “anyway, he said you’re dense and he was worried because they haven't heard from you in two days which, I now realize was a blatant lie but the point is, I started thinking about you and how much I hated our fight and the idea of getting on that plane because, well, I’m in love with you, disgustingly so actually, and I’m sure I’ll find another job and my landlord will understand and I was kinda hoping we could have more time to figure things out so maybe I could stay a little longer? If you still want me” you finish what’s probably the most awful, embarrassing, pathetic speech in recorded history with a coughing fit, throat basically occluded by sand. Perhaps you should’ve accepted Armin’s water before deciding to run almost two miles in a 95 °F weather.

Eren’s blank stare is far from encouraging and the more the silence stretches, the less you think it was a good idea to barge in there unannounced. But right as you take a tentative step back, apology already taking shape on the tip of your tongue, he reaches over with lighting speed to grab your wrist and quite literally slams your body against his, trapping you in a suffocating embrace.

“If I still want you?” he pokes fun at your words, distorts them with open incredulity “you’re so stupid”

“Eren, stop, I’m so sweaty right now!” your voice barely comes out, muffled by the fabric of his shirt. He only squeezes you tighter against him, lips pressing to the crown of your head.

“Say it again”

You are finally allowed to wiggle your way out of his arms but he keeps you in place, rough palms trapping your cheeks and puckering your lips. God, those eyes. How could you have believed you’d be able to leave them so easily?

“M’really fucking sweaty at the moment”

Eren smiles, pressing his palms harder, until your lips part.

“Not that” he’s willing to be patient now, because you have just granted him the only thing that makes him feel whole again. Time.

“Mmph—” you try to loosen his grip but he only raises his eyebrows expectantly, amused by your useless attempt “m’in lovewithyou?”

Just like that, his smile turns into one of those bright grins you adore but can barely return at the moment.

“Damn right” Eren meets your lips like that, pressing on your mouth firmly until he finally loosens his grip and you have some room to return his rough kiss right as he clumsily drags you inside and catches you when you trip on the cursed umbrella container he keeps by the door. You taste salty, just like the ocean, and he licks into your mouth with the softest groan when you lightly tug at the curling strands at the base of his nape.

“Let me hear it again” he mutters but how are you supposed to collect the required air in your lungs if he refuses to stop kissing you stupid?

Through the dazed state of your mind, you manage to whisper the words into his mouth at last.

“I love you” again and again and again, until your love and his violent adoration is all he can feel in every crevice of his body, in each jolt of the electricity buzzing through his veins.

But then Eren breaks the kiss so abruptly you lose your balance and awkwardly stumble forward, your brows knitting as he starts laughing so hard he has to rest his forehead on the curve of your shoulder, hot breath tickling your neck while he giggles so hard you’re both shaking.

“What?” as it always happens, you can’t hold back a confused smile yourself.

Still barely able to contain the fit of laughter, eyes crinkling adorably at the corners, Eren straightens up to meet your gaze.

“I had just booked a flight to Tokyo”

[whalesforhands]

HAII NYV!! hope ur doing well!!

tbh,, i’ve been thinking. How do you think SSS trio would feel about Dyf!mc going the same path suguru did? (Yk, seeing riko die and going spiraling to the point that she leaves jjt n stuffs,,) Do you think they would try and beg her to stay? Or would they let her go willingly because they’ve always wanted the best for Mc? Also, when they see each other after 11 years, Who sees her first?

tbh ive js been having brain rot of dyf so like…a million AUs are coming to me about it at once LMFAOO. but hope ure doing well, love ur writing xx

tw: yandere

lol why does ur spelling of name perfectly describe how it’s meant to be pronounced

what makes you think you’re even allowed to leave them behind like that? what makes you think you’re even able to leave them so freely?

you won’t survive out there on your own, are you just trying to die quicker? are you just trying to make them suffer just as much as you?

you’re in pain. they know, they know. you’ll get food placed outside your room’s locked door, have all 3 of them talk to you from outside too. sometimes it’s all 3 of them hanging around, sometimes it’s just 2, sometimes it’s just 1.

it’s gojo satoru that has had enough of your slump, kicking your door down with little to no effort as you flinch from shock, hiding under your blankets when you feel the dip of your mattress, and a head landing atop of your cocooned self, letting out a disappointed sigh.

“I didn’t wanna do that, ya know? You’re making things hard.”

it’s only then that he would lay down next to your form, an arm over your waist and spooning you from behind as you start to break down even harder, taking his intrusion and hoarding the comfort he gave you in this moment.

and your door’s been broken so many times you decided to just leave it unlocked… letting him and the others come and go as they please, letting him wrap his long arms around you at every given chance, letting him kiss you on the forehead every morning he gets to spend in school, telling you that he’ll be back from a mission soon.

maybe that was how it started.

“There are no missions for you, (last name).” Yaga’s scratching his head as he flips through his clipboard, carefully scanning the words.

“W-what? Why?” Your arms are shaky as you hug a Baby Panda close to yourself, soft purrs emanating from him as you pet him mindlessly. You’ve been loitering around in the campus for… Close to 3 months now.

“I’m quite confused as well. There haven’t been any curses within your grade level as of recently—“ He pauses as he flips through more papers, eyes narrowing behind dark sunglasses. “There just isn’t—“

“Then m-may I take one above my grade? T-that would put me on grounds for promotion, right?”

“You can, but there aren’t any sorcerers available to invigilate and recommend you for promotion anytime soon. Earliest I could find one is—“ The incessant flipping of papers stop.

“In about 6 months.”

ieiri shoko lets you roam around the school campus, watching you, talking to you, trying to improve your mental health. she prods you to speak your mind, convinces you that the world outside was the one that was going insane, that it wasn’t you that felt trapped, felt cornered in here.

“The campus is where you can be safe from such things. Don’t sweat it.”

and you believe her. why wouldn’t you? she’s your beloved shoko. shoko who teaches you how to do first aid when she notices how lost and listless you’re becoming, who teaches you how to treat wounds, how to stitch up open cuts, how to stop internal bleeding… all just to take up your time. she’s patient with you, holding your hands, letting you take tea breaks with her… it’s peaceful with her. you’re at ease.

so much better than being out on field, right?

geto suguru takes his time with you. he reads your favourite manga with you, asks you about the novels you have been eyeing and wanting to buy, talks about the soba noodles he had on that one trip to nagoya... hell, he’s the one who cooks food for you and helps you clean your room when he thinks you’re getting sloppy.

“Let me do it for you, okay? You’re not looking well enough to do it on your own.”

maybe that was when you thought to yourself that, maybe, just maybe… you didn’t want to leave this place.

though, if you still have some fight in you…

out of all three of them, the one who would most probably fold to your whims and let you leave is suguru. maybe when you go limp in his arms, break down crying into his chest, go quiet when he attempts to feed you…

or maybe it was that decisive kiss under the blankets of darkness, a show of your desperation and longing for something more than this that he starts to crack, starts to break. it’s then that he finally thinks that, maybe, perhaps, he needs to let you go. he’s always been quite the emotional one.

11 years of free roam? more like 11 years of surveillance. it’s not like you were allowed to go with no strings attached, you were still standing on soil that wasn’t Jujutsu Tech ground because they’re the ones who have given you this right.

they’re the ones who let you go have fun, even letting you get a job as a regular salary worker, let you get a quaint little apartment nearby, let you live the life of a regular person.

but no, oh no. you wanted to play hero again when you saw a little girl getting chased, hunted by a curse? wanted to save a life again because that’s what you could do? wanted to do?

And you got hurt from your decisions?

let’s just say you’re in for a bad time.

[azuramarigold]

The Dead Don't Die - Ch. 1

Series Synopsis: a school teacher, a sleep deprived doctor, a couple of news anchors, a disgruntled cop, a salaryman, and a few teenagers - what could they all have in common? Survival. Join the JJK crew in a Zombie Apocalypse AU heavily influence by "Resident Evil".

Chapter 1: When was the Last Time You were Afraid?

Chapter Summary: Our main characters begin to see the beginning of the end. News of attacks and deranged people eating each other begin to spread, causing mass panic and mass loss.

Buy Me A KoFi!

Word Count: 8.2k

Dividers by: @kodaswrld

Warning label made by me.

“Thank you for tuning into JOTX-DTV, we are bringing you an emergency news report.”

            The man that was talking had stark white hair, seemingly unkept, his blue eyes shining like crystals underneath the studio lights. A nice gray suit was tailored to him, a white dress shirt under the suit jacket, and a blue tie around his neck. In front of him was a silver laptop, showing him what to say for the report,

            “I’m Satoru Gojo, and tonight we are bringing you an emergency report,” the man continued. “Tonight, another group of people were attacked – this time in Nagoya Park. Victims consisted of three teenaged girls aged from 14 to 16. They were immediately transported to Kyorin University Hospital to stabilize them before further transport.

            “This is the fifth attack in the last week. Witnesses report that victims are attacked by ‘drunken’ or ‘high’ individuals. Their senses have been so severely dulled that they are much stronger than normal, even their bites are enough to tear apart hands.”

            A woman that was sitting next to him, her dark hair pulled up and tied into a lovely red bow. Her dark brown eyes nodded at the story, her dark wine-colored dress neat and proper as she looked at her laptop in front of her as well. An attractive woman, but one would say the scar that ran across her face from her right side didn’t sit well to be a news anchor on television.

            “Thank you for the report, Gojo,” the woman thanked as she turned to the camera. “Reports have also stated that when defending against these attackers, they seem to not feel any pain. Right now, the Prime Minister is ordering a strict curfew of 6 o’clock pm, starting tonight. All after school activities are canceled for the unforeseeable future.”

            The camera panned back to the white-haired man, Gojo.

            “Thank you for sharing that, Iori,” he then thanked. “Authorities are encouraging everyone to follow the curfew and only leave their homes for essential items. Limit going outside for the time being until these violent attacks are subdued.”

            “We wish you all a safe evening,” Iori said to the camera.

            The news station’s musical theme played overhead as the lights darkened over the two news anchors. A bell rang overhead as all the lights came back on.

            “That’s a wrap!” shouted the producer. “Good job everyone!”

            Gojo sighed as he loosened his tie, clearly annoyed. “Man, how have they not nipped this already…?” he grumbled. From his suit jacket pocket, he pulled out his pitch-black sunglasses and placed them over his sensitive eyes.

            “If you want it to end so bad, go out there and take care of it yourself,” Iori scoffed at him.

            “Utahime, I can’t risk Japan’s most attractive news anchor like that…” Gojo pouted, his lip overdramatically extended as he pressed a hand to his own chest.

            “Stop being an egotistical baby, Satoru,” Iori growled at him as she stood up from her chair. She straightened her dress as she walked away from the table and cameras, her black heels clicking on the floor.

            Gojo got up from his chair as well, a grunt escaping him as he stood. He was glad that he no longer did field work and was strictly an anchor. The reports that were flooding in were enough to make him almost vomit.

            Bodies torn apart beyond recognition. Families suddenly being attacked at the once peaceful parks. Hospitals were being flooded and overrun by thousands of people, each one reporting similar attacks.

            Bites, scratches, and flesh being ripped from them.

            It sounded as though it was coming from an old black-and-white horror film, or some videogame from the nineties. It was ridiculous and illogical.

            Gojo walked past the other members of the crew, putting away mics and cords, giving him a light wave. He made his way to the kitchen/breakroom, grabbing a bottle of cold water from the fridge, thankful for the liquid soothing his parched throat.

            “Hey, Satoru, how did you like what I gathered from the field…?” a familiar voice asked him. A man nearly as tall as himself, his silky black hair tied up in a messy bun. As the man did field work, he was wearing a causal light green polo and plain jeans.

            “Suguru, I think you’re deranged for still liking field work and looking at all this gore,” Gojo groaned, his glasses slipping down his nose.

            Suguru Geto entered the news world that same time that Gojo did. They did their field training together, often being stuck standing in terrible weather conditions or trying to interview people during an event. While Gojo was promoted to full-time news anchor with the occasional on field interviews for charity events, Geto stayed on the field to obtain the truth from witnesses and the scene.

            “You call it deranged, I call it actually getting the news,” Geto snorted. “All you do is talk about what I find.”

            “Field work is boring and sometimes depressing,” Gojo stated levelly, his mouth in a deep frown. “I can either interview an old lady who was sad that her cat was stuck in a tree, or I could interview a mother who is hysterically crying because her kid was run over and killed by a drunk driver. There is no in-between.”

            Geto frowned, his violet eyes narrowed. “You still talk about it though,” he pointed out,

            “There is a difference between talking about it and being there where the emotions are high,” the white-haired man gruffly replied. He took another swig of his water. “Right now bodies are being eaten… that's terrible.”

            Geto took out his phone, scrolling through messages. “My buddy at one of the precincts thinks it’s some new drug that got leaked by dealers,” he mentioned.

            Gojo groaned, “You still talk to that ass-hat…?” His brushed through his hair with a free hand. “You know he's shady as hell…”

            “Hey, Sukuna gives me good underground information with certain things,” the raven-haired man retorted.

            “The guy has been in court for abuse of power as much as I've been laid,” Gojo grumbled.

            “So, what, three?” Geto quipped with a smirk.

            Gojo threw his empty water bottle at his colleague. “You asshole!”

            Geto only laughed as the plastic bounced off him. “You are so wound tight right now, when is the last time you got laid?”

            “Wouldn't you like to know…”

            “Quite frankly, no, I don’t,” Geto replied with a huff. He then pocketed his phone. “You up for the get together tonight at the usual bar?”

            Gojo waved him off. “No, I’m good, I’m actually gonna listen and stay home,” he informed. “Besides, a bar was attacked last week. Place was filled to the brim with blood.”

            Geto gave a shrug. “Eh, I’ll tell the group you said ‘hi’.”

            “Thanks.”

            With that, Gojo left the breakroom and made his way to the office he had. It was on the smaller side, but he didn’t mind. Minimalist with black and white furniture, a sleek black desk and his personal laptop sitting on top. He sat in his large, black leather chair, and sighed as he opened his laptop.

            Normally he took the news he announced with a grain of salt, but the footage that was captured and the pictures… it haunted his mind while he tried to sleep. It was straight up terrifying, and he hoped others have the same plan.

👮‍♂️ 👮‍♂️ 👮‍♂️

“All officers available - this is dispatch. We have another 911 call coming from FamilyMart off Sakura Dōri Street and Yaesu Naka Dōri. Reports of deranged men attacking – already five wounded and counting.”

            A low rumble escaped the broad-shouldered man, him running a large hand through his dusty pink hair. He has been on so much overtime because of this crisis, it was difficult for him to do his undercover work as they keep dispatching him to God knows where. With an irritable huff, he grabbed the receiver to respond.

            “This is Ryomen, on my way,” he said clearly into the receiver. He hung it back on its cradle before flipping on the lights and sound.

            Putting the car into gear, he sped off from an alley he was parked in to head to the scene. He wasn't too far from the FamilyMart, it was a four-minute drive. As he approached the corner there was already three other cop cars and ambulances were pulling up and getting the injured on quickly before another one pulled up.

            Sukuna Ryomen was a decent cop – he knew who was guilty of something or if they’re innocent just by looking at them. Some people say he's rough, but that was guys complaining, he was always nice to the women, unless a woman decides to pepper spray him. Then it was on.

            Sukuna was an amazing undercover cop as well, with his large size and tattoos, and his cocky attitude to boot, gangs and drug dealers were more open to him. He would weasel his way in, earn the trust of the boss, and arrest them at the right opportunity.

            The large man pulled into the first open area he could find and got out of the car with blinding speed, his hand already to his side to retrieve his gun he kept holstered. Screams filled the streets along with loud crying. People were gathered outside the shop clinging to their wounds as they waited for more ambulances to arrive and take them to the hospital.

            As Sukuna approached the shop, he saw that the glass from the windows were shattered. More screams were heard from inside along with gunshots. He sprung into action, hopping over the broken window and avoiding glass as his black boots crunched beneath him as he landed.

            Gun held up defensively, he looked up and down the aisles of the shop, his dark maroon eyes narrowed with concentration. A scream as a woman busted through the back stock room, her work skirt ripped, and legs covered in blood.

            Slowly, Sukuna made his way to the door the woman came out off. There were more screams on the other side along with deep moaning. With a steady hand, Sukuna turned the handle and swung the door wide, gun aiming at whatever may be in front of him.

            Standing in the doorway was a man that was balding, his skin a sickly gray and almost peeling away. His eyes were dark and soulless, yet they still said one thing: Hunger. But it wasn’t the dark eyes or seemingly rotting skin that got Sukuna, no.

            It was the large “smile” the man had.

            Large teeth, stained crimson from fresh blood, was twisted into an animalistic smile, like a starving lion ready to strike their prey.

            “What the fu-” Sukuna couldn’t even finish his sentence as the man lunged at him, mouth snapping vigorously trying to take a chunk out his flesh.

            Sukuna managed to hold the man back, the jaws dangerously close to snapping around his forearm. With a grunt, he pushed the man back and watched him stumble off balance.

            “Freeze asshole!” Sukuna ordered, gun aimed and steady. “You will back down or I swear I’ll pop your ass!”

            A screech escaped the man, jaws widening as he lunged again.

            There was no hesitation – Sukuna fired the gun.

            The bullet pierced the man’s neck, blood spurting from the wound. He kept coming forward, each step he got closer as Sukuna took steps back. Another round was shot, this time piercing the cheek. The man still kept lunging forward.

            “This mother fucker…!” Sukuna finally shouted, taking his aim slightly higher.

            With a loud screech, the man once again lunged, arms extended, to Sukuna. He pulled the trigger, and the bullet shot cleanly though the man’s head.

            A falter in the man’s steps before he finally collapsed to the ground, unmoving.

            Breathing heavily, Sukuna stepped toward the body, kicking it gently with his foot. It made no sound and no longer moved.

            He then decided to continue forward through the stockroom, wanting to get to the source of the screaming. The stock room was medium sized, tall racks filled to the brim with product. The lights were off, and when Sukuna tried to mess with the settings, they didn’t turn on. He pulled out his large, heavy flashlight and turned it on, the concentrated LED beam sweeping.

            As the light reached more to his right, a face appeared in front of him, just as deranged as the first man. Jaws open wide with stained teeth, eyes blown wide, and skin flaking off, it tried to sink its teeth into Sukuna’s neck.

            Filled with adrenaline from his previous encounter, he ducked down flawlessly, letting the figure trip over him and collapse to the floor behind him. Rapidly, he moved his flashlight over every nook and cranny, seeing if there were more attackers. A couple of bodies lay on the ground in the corner, blood pooling beneath them.

            “Hey…! Are you conscious…!?” Sukuna bellowed as he stepped forward. His movements were halted as the person that tripped suddenly grabbed at his boot. “Damn it!” he shouted. Without hesitation, he whirled his gun toward the woman, her face twisted in rage, and she was trying to bite at his ankles. With another pull of the trigger the bullet pierced her in the head.

            As with the first “thing" that Sukuna had shot, the woman laid there unmoving as dark red blood, almost brown, pooled beneath her.

            An almost rotting smell hit Sukuna's nostrils, almost making him gag. It was a familiar smell as he had gone on in scenes that reported of found bodies. The body smelled like a rotting corpse.

            How!? That asshole and bitch were trying to kill me!

            Trying to only breathe through his mouth, he stepped forward to the other bodies in the corner. The two looked to be teenage girls, probably no older than his nephew. Both girls were covered in blood, one with a ripped stomach with her intestines pulled out, and the other had a chunk of flesh ripped from her neck and shoulder.

            They were already dead – Sukuna didn't even need to check for a pulse.

            He went back through the main part of the store, seeing how all the shelves and racks were tipped over, spilling the consumable goods onto the ground. The other cops that had owned the cars parked up front, entering the building, flashlights aiming directly at Sukuna.

            “Yo, Ryomen, everything good…?” the one officer asked. Sukuna recognized him from his division from the precinct, but the name escaped him.

            “Four dead,” Sukuna replied as he holstered his gun. “Two teenagers, female, DOA. Two I shot and killed in defense as they were trying to take a chunk out of me.”

            The officer lowered his gun. “Okay… make sure to type up a report for it,” he reminded.

            “Yeah, I know.” He approached a paramedic that was trying to find out who was the most injured through triage. “Hey, letting you know when you transport those bodies… they’re… rotting… unpleasant smell.” He then clapped the paramedic on the shoulder and made his way back to his car.

            A long, tired, yet shaky sigh escaped him. He had been in some deep shit in the past – undercovers almost being blown, so much illegal explosives that he was almost blown up, and he had been shot more time he’d like to admit. But this… this was something different. He looked at the clock on his dash, noting that the time was almost four.

            Sukuna grabbed his cellphone that he had left in the car, thumb scrolling to a familiar contact name. He put the phone to his ear and waited for the receiver to pick up.

            “What, Uncle Sukuna?” the irritated voice of his nephew answered.

            “That’s disrespectful, Brat!” Sukuna growled. “That is not how you answer the damn phone!”

            “With you, yes, it is.”

            Sukuna had to resist the urge to slam his head into the steering wheel. He loved his nephew, but the kid sometimes acted too much like himself when he was that age – it was like looking into a time-warp mirror. “Are you home?” he then asked. “You know the curfew starts tonight.”

            “I’m at the train station with Fushiguro and Kugisaki, we’re about to get on to get home.” There was sudden screaming on his end of the line. “What the fuck… Dude, get away from us, I don’t have any spare-” There was another scream, a feminine scream, as there was a sudden crack! sound, as if the young man on the other end dropped his phone.

            “Yuji…!? Yuji! You better not be pulling some bullshit here!” Sukuna screamed into the phone.

            The line went dead.

👩‍⚕️ 👩‍⚕️ 👩‍⚕️

“CODE: Triage. I repeat – CODE: Triage.”

            The P.A. system had blared overhead for what seemed like hours. A new code was announced every other minute it seemed, often repeating itself as more and more people came in with chunks of flesh torn off.

            “CODE: Grey in Emergency. I repeat – CODE: Grey in Emergency.”

            An average height woman with dark brown hair past her shoulders rushed from bed to bed in the Emergency Room. She had no proper sleep in the last two weeks due to the sudden explosion of patients being admitted. She adjusted her lab coat to reach her stethoscope to get a quick blood pressure on a patient that was being wheeled in from the ambulance.

            “Blood pressure dropping,” the woman announced. She put her forefinger and middle finger on the patient’s neck, ignoring the spewing blood from a deep bite wound. “Pulse is weak and thready – patient may go into shock from blood loss. Pressure on the wound – STAT!”

            “Dr. Ieiri!” a nurse shouted, completely overwhelmed by a patient who was straining against straps. “This patient is trying to attack us…!”

            “Inject him with fentanyl to knock him out!” Dr. Ieiri barked her order. “Monitor for signs of respiratory distress!”

            “Yes, doctor!” the nurse affirmed.

            Dark bags were deep under Dr. Ieiri’s eyes, her skin pale from lack of sunlight the last couple of weeks. Her hands were nearly twitching, practically begging to have a cigarette in between her fingers.

            But more patients rolled in. There weren’t enough staff to try and treat whatever was going on! Dr. Ieiri not only did the Emergency Room, but she worked in surgeries as well – the number of necks she desperately tried to close, or reattach limbs, or try to stuff intestines back in the thoracic cavity she had done in the last two weeks met a lifetime quota.

            However, most of the patients died on the spot. Died on the table, died in the ambulance, or died in the bed while trying to treat them. The morgue was filled to the brim, they had no choice but to store bodies in the cafeteria on a whim. No matter how many people died, double the amount would replace them within a few minutes.

            A few of the staff have passed too. A brilliant doctor in dermatology ended up getting bit on his hand while trying to investigate the rotting flesh on a patient’s skin. The bite wasn’t as deep as the ones Dr. Ieiri had seen, but the man had flu-like symptoms within the hour. By nightfall, his own skin was beginning to flake and peel, his eyes glassy, before he went and attacked one of the nurses that was assisting him. They both ended up dying before the clocks struck seven, and now they were another body in a mass grave that was the cafeteria.

            Coffee… I need coffee.

            Making her way in a crowded hall, she stood in a line that formed in front of the shitty vending machine that spout out “coffee”. More like it was dirt and water as a sludge that admittingly surged the body with the faux energy that was craved. As she put her couple of yen in to make herself a cup of sludge, a man that was in a hospital gown was banging his head against the wall next to her.

            “Um… are you okay?” Dr. Ieiri asked, her voice pitching in uneasiness. “Do you need help…? Need some meds…?” Ignoring her cup of sludge, she slowly approached the man.

            Patients always get wound up tight at hospitals. They’re ill, hurt, and they’re terrified. Dr. Ieiri made sure her steps were slow, yet deliberate. She has had her fair share of violent patients that threatened her at syringe-point in a desperate attempt for addicting pain killers.

            The man continued to bang his head, a trail of blood slowly dripping down the wall.

            Bang! Bang! Bang!

            Dr. Ieiri pulled the man off the wall, but before she could say anything to him or even get a look at his face, he went back at it again. This time, it’s harder.

            BANG! BANG! BANG!

            Slow and steady, like a metronome keeping time.

            “SIR! PLEASE STOP THIS!” Dr. Ieiri screamed as she forced the patient off the wall again. A loud gasp escaped her as she looked at the beaten face as she took a few faltering steps back.

            In front of her was the dermatologist that had died a couple of nights before. His forehead was sunken in from the constant banging, blood seeping through the wound and dripping to the floor. A rotting smell emitted from him, his jaw going slack.

            His eyes, which were once glazy from illness, were dark with a rage and burning hunger. As those soulless eyes burned into her, the slack jaw tightened, baring teeth as if he were a feral animal. A loud screech bellowed from him as he lunged at Dr. Ieiri, arms extended, desperately clutching at the sleeve of her white doctor’s coat.

            “GET THE HELL OFF ME!” the doctor screamed at the top of her lungs. She tried to kick him, but he then grabbed her leg and threw her off balance. “AUGH!” the scream ripped from her as the back of her head slammed onto the floor.

            Blurred vision and dizziness occupied her mind, but there was a small part of her mind that was screaming at her.

            Run.

            Desperate, she tried to flip herself prone, her survival instincts telling her to get away. As she tried to crawl, the former dermatologist grasped her leg with inhuman strength. A shocked exhale escaped her as he began to drag her towards him.

            Weapon…! I need something…!

            The only thing she had were her pens that she used to chart on patients. Dr. Ieiri’s hands went into her coat pocket, ignoring the pack of cigarettes she desperately wanted, and grabbed her favorite pen.

            The pen was heavy, a metal barrel that gave the pen a luxurious feel. She has thrown it a few times at interns when they were idiots, them getting bumps and bruises on their heads. Dr. Ieiri clicked the pen, the point sharp.

            A final tug from the insane man and his snapping jaws were trying to get at her neck. With a grunt of effort, Dr. Ieiri thrusted the pen into the eye. A sickening squish! filled her ears as aqueous humor, vitreous humor, and blood gushed from the wound.

            Feral screams and roars ripped from his throat, his hands desperately trying to grab Dr. Ieiri’s face, fingers gnarled as though they were talons. With her free leg, she managed to lift it and kick the pen deeper into the eye of the former physician – the pen piercing brain tissue and bone.

            The darkness faded from his eyes, a flash of humanity, before he fell on top of Dr. Ieiri as dead weight, unmoving as blood trickled from the wound.

            Heart pounding, vision blurred, the sounds from the P.A. system and screams from staff and patients alike only a low hum against her tympanic membranes in her ears. Desperate, she closed her eyes, scrunching up her face, before forcing them open again.

            It’s not a nightmare…

            The screams became stronger as the sounds of spilt blood began to fill the hospital. The doors that once led to the cafeteria were now wide open, beings crawling out of body bags or shuffling through the open doors with surprising speed.

            Nurses, doctors, assistants, and even patients were being dragged to the floor, jaws biting into their faces like delicate fruits. The once white floor was now stained red. The once sterile environment was nothing more than the world’s largest morgue.

            Panic laced Dr. Ieiri’s limbs, a cold dread hitting her like ice water in her veins. She was going to die. The people in the hospital were going to die. She was going to die.

            I’m going to die.

👔 👔 👔

The sounds of click-clacking from numerous keyboards filled the office space.

            Occasionally phones rang, the murmurs of people answering them starting to fill the silence. Then, like clockwork, a state of emergency alarm from J-Alert. Alarms blared from cellular phones, computers were opened to the broadcasting system automatically with no prompts.

            Kento Nanami, a blonde man with chiseled features and what some people would say the sternest hazel eyes, was sitting in his cubical, glaring at his computer screen and side-eyed his phone, both blaring the J-Alert. The news lately had been stating that there were random attacks and people were being torn apart or eaten alive.

            Nanami wasn’t the type of man to do things after work. Work was exhausting, so he usually goes straight home to unwind with a glass of whisky and a good book. He only started watching the news, his eye twitching when he recognizes his old high school classmate on T.V., due to the radio stations blaring about the “Cannibalism” haunting the country.

            There was no way things like that were happening… it sounded so surreal and deranged.

            It must be some underground group thinking this was just a harmless prank.

            It was only logical to think like that. There was no way that people with inhumane strength were eating people. It sounded as though it was from stupid old movie or video game.

            Preposterous.

            Nanami tried clicking off the alert on the computer screen, but it wasn’t letting him. Everyone else was trying as well, however grunts of frustration escaped them all. His desk phone then rang, causing Nanami to answer it within two rings.

            “Hello, Nanami speaking,” the man gruffly greeted.

            “Hey, Kento, did you get the same alert that I did?” The voice on the other side was none other than his high school best friend, Yu Haibara. While Nanami worked in finance, Haibara worked in marketing two floors below.

            “I did,” Nanami affirmed. “I’m sure this is all being blown out of proportion.”

            “I hope so… I read that the FamilyMart by here got attacked…” Haibara’s voice was laced with worry. “You always go straight home, right?”

            “I do,” Nanami once again affirmed.

            “I’m gonna go check on my sister… she’s a nurse at the hospital closest there…” Haibara mentioned. “I know this is childish to ask, but, uh, can you come with me…?”

            During their high school days, Haibara was the energetic of the two. They both took martial arts classes together and even aikido. While both of them know self-defense, Haibara asking what he did almost reminded Nanami the time during their school days.

            “Yeah, I’ll come with you,” Nanami informed, a small smile on his face. “I’m sure Satsuki is fine, but I know the hospitals are being overrun right now.”

            “Thanks, Kento, I’ll let you know when I clock out.”

            The sound of the phone hanging up was Nanami’s sign to see if he is even able to work. His computer was still blaring the J-Alert.

            The PA overhead then clicked on.

            “Staff. Please clock out for the day. Due to the state of emergency, we are asking you to clock out and head home. If you are able to work from home, please continue for the rest of the week at normal scheduled times. Thank you, and we hope you get home safely.”

            A frown etched on Nanami’s face. They had never have been asked to work from home if able. The computers turned off automatically, most likely the people in IT cutting them, so that workers were able to gather their things and leave.

            Nanami checked his watch, and it was a little past four. He normally worked until six, but the curfew was at six. They most likely ended the workday early so that they would have enough time to get home.

            His cell phone, now free of the J-Alert, buzzed signaling a text message. Nanami finished packing up his items in his briefcase and grabbed his phone.

YUU: Meet me in the lobby and we can head out.

Kento: Sure. I’m heading for the elevator now.

            He clocked out and made his way to the elevator, internally grimacing as it was higher capacity than usual. Nanami forced himself in, squished between a female colleague and the co-worker that was in the cubical next to him.

            “I know, I’m heading home now, dear,” the woman said into her phone. “Make sure when the kids get home that the doors are locked.”

            People are really on edge…

            The elevator descended, stopping on other floors but no one could join as it was at max capacity. As soon as the elevator landed on the ground floor, the people rushed out of the building. Haibara was waiting for Nanami by reception, him bouncing from leg to leg as his black suit and tie were wrinkled.

            Nanami approached his friend, a sigh of exhaustion escaping him. His friend noticed him and a large smile etched on his face.

            “Hey, Kento, really weird they’re sending us home early, huh?” Haibara mentioned.

            “It is…” Nanami confirmed with a hum. “Now, which hospital is your sister at?”

            “St. Luke’s International Hospital,” Haibara replied. “Doesn’t Shoko work there too as a doctor?”

            “She does, I hope she’s getting rest during all of this…”

            The two made their way out of the building and headed toward the underground parking structure near there where their cars were at. They opted for Nanami’s car as it was better on gas milage, and it had a little more space if things were so bad that Satsuki could come home.

            The hospital was roughly a seven-minute drive from the business park that they worked in, and traffic was starting to get heavy due to many offices and workplaces letting their workers out early due to the curfew. The normal seven-minute drive turned into twenty.

            As they approached the hospital, they noticed the extremely heavy traffic and random cars just stopped in the middle of the street. A grunt of annoyance escaped Nanami as he pulled over to the nearest parking lot, which was for an elementary school about a half-block away.

            Deciding to finish their route on foot, they noticed that more people were running the opposite direction of the hospital. Some people were heavily limping, deep wounds into their arms, legs, or sides.

            “I’m gonna call my sister and see if she answers…” Haibara murmured, pulling his phone out and dialing her number. A frown appeared on his face as he noticed it went to voicemail. “I get she’s a nurse… but this is getting crazy…”

            The two made it to the hospital, seeing that there was a police barricade by the entrance. Screams could be heard from the inside of the hospital, and there were smears of blood on the windows. Patients, doctors, nurses, and others would randomly show up at a window, desperately banging before they were yanked down by some unknown entity.

            Officers were barking orders for citizens to stay back. People were demanding to see their loved ones, or some were injured and needed medical attention. The officers would not relent, some even using batons as force to make sure people wouldn’t cross the police line.

            “BACK AWAY!” an officer shouted in a megaphone. “I REPEAT! BACK AWAY! WE WILL USE FORCE IF NECESSARY!”

            A shrill scream from a woman could be heard over the megaphone, her pointing at the large glass window that showed into the hospital lobby. Faces that looked deranged began pounding on the glass, the glass vibrating from the force. Cracks began to spiderweb across the glass until finally…

            It gave out.

            Glass exploded as people rushed out of the hospital, covered in deep bite wounds, torn clothes, and flesh hanging off the bone. Immediately, they began to tackle the officers, who were so surprised they couldn’t even draw their guns. Absent gunshots went off, someone that was in the crowd yelping as a bullet pierced their stomach.

            Like a beacon, the hospital residents raised their heads as though they smelled gourmet meat. Eyes widening in panic, the person tried to scurry away, but was tackled to the ground by a group of four or five people.

            Are they even people at this point!?

            Nanami watched in horror as the group began tearing into the gunshot victim. The man screaming in a combination of pain and fear. Intestines were ripped from the victim’s stomach, a deep bite into his throat as the being pulled violently, blood spouting from the wound as tendons, arteries, and other vessels hung from their mouth.

            Sickening slurps and rips from the body filled the streets before screams took over. More people were tackled to the ground as flesh was torn. Whatever officers were able to fend off the monstrous people tried to shoot, but their bullets pierced the hospital patrons, but also the innocent people in the crowd.

            “Augh! FUCK!” a hiss of pain erupted from Haibara as a bullet had shot through his leg. “Damn it! I think they’re just shooting blindly!”

            The hospital patrons raised their heads once again, sensing the fresh blood.

            “Oh, fuck…! We have to move, Yuu!” Nanami shouted at his injured friend, before grasping him by the arm and forcing him to run.

            Desperately, they began to run, forcing their way between people that were also running. More gunshots rang, and more innocent people were shot at and collapsing to the ground as their flesh began to peel from their bones.

            The smell of blood filled the air, and Haibara was beginning to falter in his steps, the adrenaline slipping away. “K-Kento, man, I’m just slowing you down… Go!” Haibara shouted, his voice pained and fatigued.

            “Are you fucking crazy!?” Nanami shouted back at his friend. He turned his head, ready to force his friend to continue running, however his eyes widened when he recognized a young woman in a nurse’s uniform grabbing at Haibara. “Satsuki…!?”

            She looked not like herself… her face that was so normally filled with life was now gray and dulled, her eyes dark and glassy, and her teeth were borne and blood stained. A loud screech emitted from her as she lunged at Haibara, her hands outstretched toward him.

            Haibara only gave a grim smile before forcibly pushing Nanami away from him. “GO!” he then shouted again as he was forced to the ground.

            Nanami had tripped over something, a torn apart body, as he watched in horror as his best friend’s own sister tore into his leg like it was the most delicious piece of prime meat in the world. Screams tore from Haibara’s throat as Satsuki crawled up further, her teeth biting into the side of his face, blood spraying onto the concrete.

            Slowly, the light from Haibara’s eyes dimmed as his body went limp, Satsuki continuing to tear into him as if her life depended on it. Once she was done, her eyes glared up at Nanami, who had managed to get to his own feet, a low, feral growl escaping her. Staggering, she forced herself up from Haibara’s corpse as she lunged toward Nanami, who only ducked out of the way and watched as she tripped over the same body as he had, watching as she fell to the ground, her arms twisting and breaking in an unnatural way from the impact.

            Bones pierced her skin, but it was like she didn’t care. Satsuki forced herself once again, her hungry eyes resting on Nanami once again.

            Giving Haibara’s body one last look, he turned and ran, performing his late friend’s dying wish.

👩‍🏫 👩‍🏫 👩‍🏫

The news breaking out on the country-wide curfew was annoying to say the least.

            You were just getting ready to inform the students in the second to last class of the day about an upcoming test that was scheduled when the P.A. system crackled overhead.

            “Attention students and faculty – we are ending school early. Please make your way out of the building as soon as possible. Students who take public transportation, please look ahead now for departure schedules.”

            The sound of chairs scraping against the worn linoleum floor filled the classroom. Students were murmuring to each other in confusion, and some were sounding scared as they got their phones out to call their parents.

            You oversaw the students leaving the classroom, stating that you will put everything in the digital classroom online for them to complete assignments from home. There was no questioning it, no groans of teenage rebellion.

            The last three in the class, the trio of students you called the “HP Trio” as they always got into trouble like the famous book characters, were staggering behind as two of them waited for their pink-haired friend.

            “Sorry, Miss Y/L/N, we’ll be on our way out shortly!” the pink-haired young man apologized as he finished stuffing his backpack.

            “Sorry that Itadori is too stupid to know how to pack his backpack,” the girl of the trio quipped, her flipping her dyed ginger hair over her shoulder.

            “Kugisaki, that is not nice to say about your friend,” you say to her.

            “No, she’s right,” the raven-haired boy then murmured. “Itadori doesn’t know how to do basic tasks accordingly.”

            Leave it to Fushiguro to join in…

            “You three get home safely,” you inform them. “You guys live in the same neighborhood, yes?”

            “Yes,” the trio replied in unison.

            “Kugisaki, remember to call your grandmother,” you tell the young woman. Kugisaki only groaned as she nodded. “Fushiguro, you have to actually speak to your guardian, okay?” The young man nodded, although grumbling that he didn’t want to deal with “that white-haired idiot”. “And Itadori, let your uncle know that classes ended today,” you then remind him. Itadori nodded as he finally closed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.

            “Yes, Miss Y/L/N,” they replied in unison.

            You waved them off as they left, the three murmuring to each other. Once they have left, you begin to pack up your stuff as well, knowing that the school wanted the faculty to leave as well. Making sure you had your laptop, phone, keys, and the few books you brought were safe in your messenger bag, you left as well.

            The hallways were littered with scrap paper and a few open books. Students were straggling out of the school, some walking home, some getting into their cars, some going on bikes, and like the trio she just seen off, some were heading toward the nearest train station.

            Ironically, you took the same train line toward home as the HP Trio, even though your stop was two after theirs. You tried to keep some distance, making sure it didn’t seem creepy or odd that you were “following” them. Rarely did you get on the train at the same time as they do, but it was one of those times that Itadori noticed that she was behind them.

            “Oh, Miss Y/L/N, did one of us forget something?” Itadori asked curiously.

            “No, Itadori, I just happen to go on the same train line as you three…” you murmured in embarrassment.

            “Oh, then you should walk with us!” Kugisaki offered with a smile.

            “Not gonna lie, with the J-Alert suddenly appearing on our phones, it would be better for to be in groups, so we’re not attacked or something…” Fushiguro then added.

            The trio looked apprehensive, so you knew that they were serious about you walking with them. They did get into trouble yes, but it wasn’t “suspended” or “expel” worthy, just typical teenage shenanigans like getting into a couple of arguments with other students or being late and such.

            “If you three don’t mind…” you then said with a small smile.

            From what you knew, just like the trio, you had to take at least two different train lines to get home from Shiba Commercial High School, which was annoying, but it had to be done. Entering the subway station that was underground, the air felt sticky and tense as so many people were also waiting for the train.

            As you waited with the trio, Itadori’s phone rang. He saw who it was and groaned.

            “What, Uncle Sukuna?” the pink-haired asked irritably into his phone.

            You knew that Itadori and his uncle had a somewhat rocky relationship. The older man took Itadori in during his first year of junior high when his grandfather had suddenly passed. Sukuna Ryomen, who was Itadori’s uncle through his father, took him in on a whim.

            There was the sound of someone yelling on the other side, it was loud enough for Itadori to move the phone away from his ear.

            “With you, yes, it is,” the teen deadpanned into the phone’s receiver.

            A pause as Itadori listened.

            As he was on the phone, you noticed someone staggering toward you four. It seemed like they were drunk as they wobbled on their feet and looked incoherent.

            “I’m at the train station with Fushiguro and Kugisaki, we’re about to get on to get home,” Itadori explained into the phone.

            A scream from a nearby patron pierced the air as the staggering person knocked a woman to the ground, her dangerously close to the yellow line and therefore close to the train’s railway. You nearly gasped at how hard that woman had fallen, a train blaring past without stopping, her purse disappearing.

            The drunkard got near the four of them, Fushiguro and Kugisaki tapping Itadori on his shoulder to get his attention. At that point the drunkard was practically on top of them. The smell hit your nostrils that nearly made you gag – the smell of something rotting.

            “What the fuck… Dude, get away from us, I don’t have any spare-” Itadori began to say, clearly irritated that this drunkard was in their space.

Kugisaki suddenly screamed as the drunkard lunged at her, jaws open wide, and hands extended. Itadori didn’t hesitate to drop his phone and let it crack onto the ground. He rushed to his friend’s side and did a perfect front kick to the drunkard, sending him staggering back.

People around them gasped at the suddenness of it all. However, the drunkard got up, legs twisting oddly as though they were broken. When someone tried to help them up, the drunkard sunk their teeth into the helper’s arm. A scream tore through their throat, desperately trying to yank their arm back, only for the flesh to tear from them.

You put your hand over your mouth at the sight. Blood pour from the wound and the person was tackled to the ground, the drunkard tearing into their throat.

“Kids, we need to go, now,” you ordered as you touched each of their shoulders to get them grouped closer together. You then pushed them toward the stairs so that you three could go back street level, the feral growls and screams of terror echoing behind you.

Once you were at street level, there was more chaos. A car drove off the road and slammed into a running pedestrian, their body nearly exploding from the impact as they were pinned to a building. Kugisaki screamed behind her hand, her orange-brown eyes wide with horror.

You grabbed her shoulder to pull her away from the scene, but it was then that both Itadori and Fushiguro pushed you both away as they jumped backwards. Another car had gone off road and would have crashed into you and Kugisaki if the boys hadn’t intervened.

Itadori rushed to the car that had then crashed into a half-wall, him trying to open the driver-side door. “Hey, are you okay!?” he shouted. “Because if you are, then FUCK YOU for nearly hitting us!” The door sprung open as the driver plopped to the ground, sounding squishy as though filled with water beads.

“Itadori, get the hell away from them!” Fushiguro shouted. “Obviously they are not sane!”

            “I just need to know-” Itadori began, but he gasped suddenly as the driver grabbed his leg. “HEY! LET ME GO!��

            “Itadori…!” you shouted as you rushed forward. You always kept a defense knife on your person, all because you were attacked so long ago that you just wished it could be erased from your memory, but at the moment you were glad you still had it to protect your student. You had grabbed the knife, ready to threaten the driver, but Itadori had kicked at the side of their head so they could let go.

            Both your jaws dropped as the driver’s neck was snapped to the side, the crack so audible that you nearly threw up. Itadori’s eyes widened in horror as the hand that once grasped his leg laxed. The driver’s head was nearly ripped from their torso, dark clotted blood pouring from the wound as it was clear that the spinal cord was snapped from the kick.

            “I… I didn’t even kick that hard…!” Itadori gasped, him nearly collapsing to the ground. “Is… Are they dead…!? Oh, shit, I didn’t mean to kill them…!”

            As you observed the body, you saw that patches of their skin were rotting away. The hair was stringy as though the driver was just dug up from a grave and thrown into the car.

            “I think… they were dead before you kicked them…” you explain to Itadori softly. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you were defending yourself,” you then added to assure them.

            Fushiguro and Kugisaki had made their way to the two of you, Kugisaki taking one look at the body and gagging. Absently, Fushiguro patted her back, her then vomiting on the cement.

            “What the actual fuck is that!?” the teenaged girl screamed. “WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!?”

            “Kugisaki, calm down!” Fushiguro ordered, his voice also began to panic. “We just… we just need to take a step back and think.”

            “Think about what!?” Kugisaki demanded. “What should I season my arm with so its tasty for the next fucker!?”

            “No, that’s absurd,” the raven-haired teen levelly replied.

            You then took out your phone and pulled up your map app. “Itadori, the precinct that your uncle works at… it’s close to here, yes?” you then asked.

            “Uh, yeah, it should be…” Itadori replied.

            “Let’s head to the station,” you suggested. “The police should have some idea of what is going on.”

            The pink-haired boy nodded, his honeyed eyes glancing back down at the person he had kicked. You gently grabbed his forearm and pulled him away from the scene. As he got close to his friends, Fushiguro patted his shoulder and Kugisaki gave him a sudden hug.

            You couldn’t remember the last time you were this scared… well, except that night five years ago. But this was starting to become number one on your list of pants-shitting fear.

            “Do you think that was a zombie…?” Itadori then asked, his voice murmured and soft.

            “What the hell makes you think that dumb shit?” Fushiguro demanded harshly.

            Itadori darted his eyes back to the driver’s unmoving body. “That guy at the station… he bit the one guy… then this guy grabbed my leg like he wanted to bite it,” he began to explain. “And when I kicked him… his neck snapped so easily, and once that was broken, he stopped.”

            “You were playing that zombie game again weren’t you, dumbass!” Kugisaki shouted at Itadori.

            “I was, yeah,” he admitted. “But from every zombie lore I have ever dealt with – movies, games, and manga – it’s that you destroy the brain, the spinal cord, or decapitate to truly kill them…”

            Fushiguro rolled his eyes. “Are you kidding me, man? You think we’re in some zombie warzone shit!?” he shouted, completely exasperated.

            “Do you have a better idea!?” Itadori shouted back, his eyes narrowed.

            “It could be that… that they’re sick or something!” Fushiguro reasoned.

            “And dude, how many zombie movies and games started like that!?” Itadori challenged.

            Fushigruo opened his mouth but then closed it. He had no rebuttal against that.

            You got in the middle of three, trying to diffuse the situation. “Oi! Stop arguing!” you ordered, your voice firm with your “teacher” voice. “Let’s just get to the station, I’m sure there is some sort of plan in place!”

            The three students looked at each other and then back at you. They nodded in affirmation as you began to lead them toward the station, your eyes going between the map on your phone and in front of you.            

Trying to ignore the screams and screeching of cars, you decided that you can only focus on your three students to make sure they make it.

A/N: I would like to point out that I put A LOT of research into this. It may not be 100% accurate, but I spent HOURS looking up Japan's map to figure out where things were and how realistically some of them could travel.

I also discovered why it MAKES SENSE that "Resident Evil 2" the cop uniforms are what they are - they are based off of Japan's summer uniform!!!! LIKE DANG. I knew Leon S. Kennedy's uniform was based off George A. Romero's "Dawn of the Dead" SWAT uniform, but this was just interesting to see!

So, it's also funny to imagine Sukuna in this uniform! LOL. Unless you want to imagine him more in Leon's attire, that's fine too!

(left: RE2 1998. Right: RE2 Remake 2019)

TAGLIST (STILL OPEN!): @nanamineedstherapy @b0nez9 @rosemaydone321

Special thanks to my Ko-fi supporters!

Basic Tier

Aostrele

Draconic Hermit

JadEDU

Jaune Arc

Zippy

Middle Tier

@genderfluidsgetguns AKA IdoInFactLikeDogs

[akkivee]

BAT girlies organized a nagoya div win for jyushis birthday so i went to see the movie again out of support LMAOOO sometimes jp fans scare me with how organized they can be in oshikatsu like when hitoya did his there are two things i cant stand shtick they all yell NAAA~NI in unison

BAT ending is so cute!! jyushi is so babey 😭😭😭 im not sure if you want spoilers in case kr plans a digital release for the movie but in short everyone was just BIG HUG!!!!

-✨

the collective bat fandom deciding to respond to hitoya’s two things bit with ‘nani~????’ happened towards the end of covid era muted audiences and it genuinely surprised me when they finally got the chance to do it, it actually caught on lmao

like it still makes me go uwuwuwu thinking about how during bat’s 8th live, takeuchi-san did his self introduction with a hitoya line, but since it was still covid era rules, when he started ‘there are two things i can’t stand—‘ the audience started clapping and he had to take a moment to giggle LOL 🥺🥺🥺

between twt spoilers and the teases i got from a friend who saw the movie on their jp trip, seeing the bat love is one of the top things i gotta experience myself lmao like ik it’s there but like with last man standing, it’s gotta be experienced for yourself lmao

[namchyoon]

day 283/547 until joon returns cr. namuspromised

[bts-boys]

190112 BTS V at Love Yourself World Tour in Nagoya Day 1 © nuna v do not edit, crop, or remove the watermark

[thvictory95]

[130119] BTS World Tour 'Love Yourself' | Nagoya

📸PredesTINAte95

©️TW:PredesTINAte95

TW:primemeridian_v

📸리얼뷔 REALV ✿

©️TW:REALV1230

< 2/3 >

[instruth]

FORGIVENESS

If you love yourself, forgive yourself

If you love others, forgive them too

Unforgiveness builds a clinging anger

A self-imposed style to choke the other

Don’t fool yourself - who suffocates?

©Johnny J P Lee

09 April 2024

A Gogyoshi Poem ( 5 Line Poem)

Photos: J. P. Lee (Mode Hal Isen, Nagoya)

[yusyusds]

I'm Glad We Met Part 1

“Recording!" 

That was the signal, the interview started, everyone got focused on their job, Rei was trying to keep a calm but pretty smile on her face, on her side Wonyoung looked fresh as always while Liz was looking up for everyone before doing the group greeting.

“Sky high, Hi, we are Estelle”

"I'm really grateful to see you all here," the interviewer,Jung Shik, greeted. "It's your first time here, how does it feel ?"

All the girls looked at each other before the leader Yujin took the initiative to talk. 

"We are a little nervous, but so happy about being in your show, sunbae." The girl's answer received the approval of the rest that nodded showing agreement. 

"Oh no, let's forget honorifics, now you can introduce yourself. Let's start with you..." he pointed at Rei while reading the papers on his hand to look up for her name. "Rei!" 

"Y-yes, I'm a lovely and graceful butterfly in charge of the rap in the group, my name is Rei," she greeted and the rest joined one after the other doing their respective greetings.

The interview officially started. 

Everything was going correct, Rei wasn't too participative but that was not a problem since everyone was having their time to shine after so long.

"Let's talk about your new music." In a natural way the interviewer changed the theme. "I see here that some of you participated in the creation of some of the songs in your new comeback, Rei was one of them." All the attention went on her and automatically Rei felt the nerves invade her body, she already knew what he would ask. "The song "I’m Glad We Met" was written by you?" 

"Not by me, but I helped with some things," Rei answered shyly. 

"It's a song about first love, how did you manage to help, maybe… you have a love story like the one that the song talks about?" He asked curiously, following the script without knowing the effect that could have on the girl. 

Rei’s hand went directly to the little butterfly necklace that went almost unnoticed between all the other accessories on her. Liz reacted too, taking her hand in a supporting way, she knew that the question would effect Rei.

"I- I always use my fans as inspiration, they are my first and only love, so this song is for them," she lied, still playing with the necklace, in it the initials "R" and "Y" were inscribed on the each wing, away from the sight of the rest. 

She wished to be able to talk about her real first love and talk about all the happiness it caused her, but the interview was not the place for that and before she knew it a new question was made, moving to a different theme. 

"Since when you all wanted to become idols and how were you all recruited?" he asked, and while the girls were deciding who would be answering based on the most interesting history, Rei got lost in her memories. 

"Dad!" the girl screamed between the people that walked without looking at her. "Dad, I'm here." She continued, starting to walk looking up for her family, but neither of the adults surrounding her were her parents.

In her desperation a voice mingled with hers, she searched around her until her gaze met with one of another child. Both stayed on their sides looking at each other with fear and curiosity.

"Did you also lose your parents ?" The kid asked in a funny accent, keeping the distance. Rei nodded, playing with her hands nervously. "We should look for them together," he offered, extending his hand to her "I'm Lee YN, I’m from Osaka" 

"I'm Naoi Rei, I’m from Nagoya" Still afraid, Rei approached and took his hand saying her name in a low and shy tone. 

"That's a pretty name." YN started to walk without letting go of Rei's hand. 

Tokyo was a really big city in the eyes of a kid who was alone and so far from home, but at least they were not alone anymore. Together they started to call their parents' names and approach all the adults that looked somehow like their familiars, but didn't succeed. 

It was a search for minutes, but for them felt like hours, eventually they reached a little park where they took a seat. Rei felt calmer, especially thanks to YN's firm grip, but she was still worried about finding her parents. 

On the other side of the park, some young people appeared with loud music, attracting the attention of both kids. 

Do you know that song?" YN asked. 

"I don’t think so," Rei tried to remember, but no memory came that included that song. 

"It's the debut song of SNova he explained. "Don't you like kpop idol groups?" YN asked, looking at her.

"Not really, I don't understand Korean," she answered sincerely.

"Oh, then I’ll work hard to become your favourite idol, my dream is to become an idol of a popular group, hopefully under SNova’s company starlight" YN's eyes almost shined while saying that. 

"I’ll need to learn Korean then..." she said, a little insecure, but still supportive, he turned and smiled at her brightly.

Before the talk could continue they heard their names, they automatically turned in search of the familiar voices watching their parents run towards them. Within minutes they were separated and embraced by their parents as they were bombarded by questions. 

The adults quickly greeted the other family, and then took the children and went on separate ways. 

"Good luck in Korea" Rei almost screamed while waving at YN thinking that the next time they would see each other would be through a screen. 

The years passed, and everything became bigger, including the interest of Rei for kpop, to the point that she wanted to become an idol like her favourites and YN, even if he hasn't debuted yet. Whenever auditions were opened, she sent her videos in the hope of being chosen, but sometimes she didn't even receive the predetermined message thanking the participation. 

Feeling more exhausted than usual, she finished shopping and left the store. Her mother needed some ingredients and couldn't find them in any nearby store so she had to walk several blocks to get there. 

She walked at a calm pace while humming one of her favourite songs. Maybe it was because there weren't that many people on the street at the time, but it gave her the feeling that she was being followed, but before she could do or say anything a man in a suit approached her. 

"You have good looks, if you are interested contact me. We are looking for trainees for a new group," he said in a funny sounding japanese before offering a business card. 

Rei took the card with doubt, but once she saw the name of the company she raised her eyebrows. 

"Starlight Entertainment." That name shone in her eyes, and from that moment the mission to get into the company started. 

It was not easy to convince her parents, it was normal that they refused to let their little daughter go to a totally different country to spend hours and hours training to debut in a group that could end up failing. So Rei made a big effort to convince them using her opportunity to study there as a benefit and eventually they agreed, with many rules and conditions, but after receiving the permission everything happened in the blink of an eye. 

Her journey in Korea started.