#Then it’s four and the anxiety kicks in. I pick up my pen. The sun is going down a bit and shining directly into my eyes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

typewrittenluck · 3 years ago

Text

as the seasons change

C!Technoblade x gn!reader highschool!au

Word Count: 9.1k

Pronouns: they/them

A/N: this is literally so self indulgent, i spent a whole day writing this because im going through my techno feels rn. it basically follows the story of oblivious Y/N and Techno throughout the four seasons :)

Warnings: Underaged drinking, Swearing, Smoking, Drugs (very brief)

Suggested Songs: The State of Grace, Taylor Swift/ MEET ME AT OUR SPOT, THE ANXIETY, WILLOW, Tyler Cole/ that way, Tate McRae/ Falling, Chase Atlantic/ Compass, The Neighborhood

SUMMER------------

The August air was thick with the heat of the almost-setting sun. Her rays beat down on the backs of the group of teens, and mosquitos filled the silences between them with their incessant buzzing.

A small crack of static preceded the soft sound of music, accompanied by the sharp smack of Niki and Jack’s celebratory high-five.

“Didn’t you start setting up the speaker like an hour ago?” questioned Wilbur, who was sunk into a half-broken lawn chair that he had found in the garage.

“Yeah, it would have been much faster if you had asked Techno” chimed Y/N from their place leaning against the above mentioned man’s leg.

His grunt of response was cut short by his little brother, Tommy, bursting into laughter.

“Because he’s TECHno! Get it?!”

Everyone groaned and Wilbur smacked Tommy upside the head, grumbling about “shouldn’t have let you come hang out with us”

Y/N giggled at that, but took sympathy on the boy. “Aww don’t be like that Wil, Tommy, I thought that was hilarious.”

“Don’t encourage him, Y/N” Techno leaned down to murmured to them in his low, monotonous voice.

There it was. The way he said their name! The way his calf felt under Y/N’s back! The way he whispered sentences directly to them, as if it was some closely guarded secret. It was enough to bring butterflies to their stomach as they praised whatever higher being was out there for the heat of the day covering their blush.

“It’s so fucking hot,” Fundy moaned, kicking Wilburs shin from his place lying facedown on the grass. “Can we go to the pool or something?”

His request was met with a spectrum of responses, varying from Tommy’s “YES, PLEASE WILL? PLEASE!” to Technoblades indifferent shrug.

Jack took note of Technoblades open response with a shout of laughter. “TECHNOBLADE IN THE POOL! I WOULD PAY GOOD MON-”

“I’m not getting in, dumbass.”

“Why? Scared you’ll ruin your hair?”

“No, he doesn’t want us to know he’s secretly jacked under the sixteen sweaters he wears.”

Technoblade picked up the hem of his sweatshirt, making eye contact with Niki. She has a point.

“How do you wear that in the Summer?”

“It’s n- TOMMY!!”

Shrieks of laughter follow Tommy’s water gun assault on his brother. “When did he slip away to go get those?” Y/N wondered aloud.

“WHEN ARE WE LEAVING??” Tommy asked enthusiastically.

---

A crowded minivan, a stop to pick up Tommy’s friend, and a raid of Phil’s linen closet for pool towels later, the group arrived at the neighborhood pool. The sun hung low in the horizon as people spilled out of Phil’s van and began dragging the pool toys and water guns towards the gate.

The air around the black metal bars barring their entrance to the pool seemed to quiver.

“I think Wil has the pool key.” piped Niki in response to Fundy throwing his weight against the fence.

Fundy, in turn, sprinted back to the car, where Wilbur was taking inventory of snacks (and probably hiding the best for himself).

Technoblade looked down at the two younger boys and Y/N conversing in hushed whispers. All of a sudden, they screamed out in perfect synchronization, in equally high pitched voices,

“Let me innnn! Let me in pleaseeee!”

And promptly burst into giggles. Y/N almost toppled into Techno, both from laughing and the slight weariness from the heat.

The pool noodles he was balancing beneath his arms (laden with tote bags of pool toys and towels) toppled to the ground, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was Y/N’s hand steadying themself on his chest, and the way his face began to heat up almost unbearably considering the weather.

“Oops, sorry!” they squeaked, leaning down to pick up the fallen noodles.

Technoblade was burst out of his daze by the return of his brother and Fundy, who triumphantly swiped the access card against the pad before kicking the gate wide open.

The clang of metal against the concrete pool clubhouse sent reverberating waves into the air, and everyone winced as the metal continued to drag.

Pool entrances varied, Niki, on the one hand, took her time tip-toeing into the water by the stairs, while Tubbo and Tommy almost knocked each other out crashing over the edge to the deep end.

Y/N chuckled at their antics, but seeing as they had settled on not getting wet today, they picked out a chaise in the shade and pulled a book and pen out of the small bag they had brought with them.

Technoblade watched them with almost unwavering interest, unless someone happened to look his way, in which case he would quickly turn back to his phone, scrolling aimlessly through his home screen until they turned away.

From his spot under the little roof of the clubhouse, he had an almost unobstructed view of Y/N, and how they chewed at the end of the pen they used to annotate their book. Oh how he wished he could read the little notes they scribbled in the margins, or the drawings they would surround words with when they got distracted from reading. And the way that pen dangled from their lips, their tantalizing, soft lips. Taunting him, almost. And their jewel-like, bright eyes. Always so inviting and playful; like the way they were meeting his right now-

Shit

He hadn’t realized he’d been staring that intently. A small quirk of their eyebrow and a smirk on their lips was enough to make his heart give out. But not now. Not when they were waving their hand so intently to get him to sit next to them. Pretending to ponder the decision and gather his belongings, (when in reality he was just collecting his bearings), he walked over to them.

“See! You don’t always want to be alone, Mr. I’m so antisocial and I hate everyone!” they smiled, patting the adjacent seat.

You’re the only exception, he thought, his brain screaming and pushing to let the words leave his mouth. He couldn’t though, not when they could never think of him the way that he thought of them.

So he answered with a small smile and a chuckle.

“What are you reading?”

“The Picture of Dorian Gray! Remember you said you thought I’d enjoy it?” they answered with enthusiasm, that sparkle still evident in their eyes.

It warmed his heart to know that they had taken the suggestion and committed to the book, which was admittedly a pretty tough read, because of him.

“How could I forget?”

Their smile widened and they buried their head back in the book, that cursed pen once again being squished between their plush lips.

Technoblade peered over their shoulder to see that they were nearing the middle of the book, where Dorian returns from his theater date with Basil and Henry. Feeling satisfied enough that they were invested in the story, given their gasp and furious scribbling in the margins, he felt it safe enough to stare at them under the orange-tinged glow of the sunset.

Of course, he forgot about the crowd of his friends who were nudging each other and whispering about his infatuation with you. The whispers reached Wilbur who narrowed his eyes in his twin's direction and made a mental note to ask him about it later.

Once dark hit and the water began to run a little too cold for anyone's taste, they began to wrap themselves up in towels and raid Wilburs snack stashes. The snack distribution was cut off by Wilburs phone, screen lit up with a zoomed in photo of none other than Philza.

DADZA!!! Read the contact name as Wilbur swiped the screen and held the phone between his shoulder and ear, continuing to hand out snacks.

“OI, where in fucks sake are you lot? It’s an hour past the devils ass why i…”

The rest of Phil’s screaming faded as Wilbur walked away to calm his father down.

“AN HOUR PAST THE DEVILS ASS” Y/N screamed with laughter, sending the entire group into raucous peals of giggles.

“Yep, mhhm, we’ll be there” Wilbur walked back towards the group, motioning for everyone to get in the car.

“Yes dad I know, yes, okay we will drop him off. Okay, bye” Hanging up the phone, he ushered people back into the car, holding Tubbo back by his upper arm so that he could sit with easiest access to the door.

After dropping Tubbo off, and then doubling back and driving around town to drop people off at various houses, Technoblade, Tommy and Wilbur were alone in the car with Y/N.

“Here. Here. WIL! Pull over!”

The van screeched to a halt as Y/N clambered over Tommy’s long legs, almost falling out onto the pavement. They leaned against the door of the passenger seat, thanking Wilbur and bidding farewell to the brothers. Just before they stepped away, Technoblade leaned down and kissed the crown of their head where it was leaning against his open window. Their stunned expression was lost in the dark and the window slid shut as Wilbur slammed the gas pedal to make it back in time before his dad’s curfew.

“What the fuck was that”

Technoblade gave him a glare, which lost its effectiveness when paired with the burning red blush flooding his face and neck, highlighted under the harsh white lights of the car. He turned his face away and resigned to staring out the window, the night air filtering through the small crack giving his face a little bit of relief.

“Okay at least tell me, are you together?”

“No.”

“But he likes them!” piped up Tommy from the back seat, looking up from his phone where he was playing a game.

“No I- I don’t” Damnit The crack in his voice gave it away.

Wilbur, sensing that it seemed to be more of a sensitive topic than he thought, decided to drop the subject for the time being, and Tommy was already absorbed back in his game.

The rest of the drive was spent in silence as they raced against time and the rules of Philza Minecraft.

AUTUMN----------------------

School started a few weeks after the pool night, which was followed by many late nights and summer fun by the friends, the knowledge that half of them would be away to college next year heavy in the atmosphere. To say the least, Junior year was not treating Y/N well. They were almost always working on homework, if not doing SAT prep, and they rarely went out with their friends. The only time Technoblade got to see them was during his AP Lit class, and because of it, he considered himself the luckiest man in the world. Ms. Ren’s Literature classroom was the only place Technoblade seemed to see the old Y/N, the one from over the summer who got enthusiastic over books and gave him playful punches when he was a little too mean to their friends. Now, the only Y/N he saw was a stressed, tired person who was always carrying an energy drink in one hand and a stack of homework in the other. Except for in Lit. Y/n’s eyes would brighten as they discussed the reading from the previous night and their legs would jostle Technoblades from under their shared table to show him an annotation they had made. Technoblade assumed they were just rejuvenated from the literature, never once letting the thought cross his mind that maybe, just maybe, he was part of the equation too.

On the rare occasion that they would hang out with their friends, they would be easily prone to tears and every conversation would be redirected to how tired and stressed they were. Of course, Technoblade wanted them to be happy, and felt enormous empathy for his friend in the harshest year of high school, but he had suddenly become hyper-aware that the clock was ticking on his time left with them. He was a senior this year, and while Y/N still had a year left to go, Technoblade would be on his way to college, perhaps out of the country, in less than a year. It wasn’t wrong to want to make the most of his time with them.

It didn’t help that this internal time bomb was also counting down the opportunities he had left to tell them how he felt.

-----

He decided to get to them when they were in a good mood, and more likely to say yes. After Ms. Ren had finished assigning the reading due by Monday, he turned to the beautiful person who sat next to him and muttered in a low voice,

“How’s your weekend looking?”

They looked up with a bright smile and whispered back

“I have tons of homework but I should be able to knock it out with a good day of work. Why? What do you have in mind?”

He knew this was the right time to ask you.

“Just be ready by 4pm on Saturday.”

----

Technoblade sat on the edge of his usually neat bed, now strewn with almost every sweater he owned. He was picking a stray piece of lint from the sweater nearest to him when he saw his brother walk past, then backtrack out of the corner of his eye.

“What’s got you all indecisive?” Wilbur asked, gesturing vaguely to the sweaters and random articles of clothing adorning his room.

“Wait! Is today your date with Y/N?”

“It’s not a date.” grumbled Technoblade.

“Then why are you so stressed about what to wear?” he replied with raised eyebrows.

Technoblade groaned and threw himself on top of the pile of wool on his bed. “I just need this to be perfect. Y/N needs a break, and they deserve everything to be just right.”

“And you want to impress them” sang Wilbur, now nudging Techno aside to sift through his sweaters.

Technoblades noise of indignation was muffled as Wilbur threw a cream colored sweatshirt at his face.

“What about this?”

“I couldn’t find what to wear it with.”

Wilburs sigh rang through Technoblades room as he opened the closet, now in his proper mindset as the family fashion consultant. Garment after garment was thrown in Techno’s general direction, and he leaned and reached to grab them all.

“Try that”

Technoblade walked out of the bathroom to find Wilbur rummaging through his jewelry.

“When did I say it was fine for you to go through my stuff?” asked Technoblade, shoving Wilbur away. Wilbur shrugged in response, motioning for Techno to open his hand so that he could drop his selection of rings and necklaces into his open palm.

As Wilbur walked out the door, he thought he heard a faint “thank you”, and smiled to himself.

-----

“This is elaborate”

“I’m a dynamic man Y/N.”

Y/N laughed at his response to the back seat of Technoblades car, which was filled with “supplies” for the evening.

“That outfit sure is dynamic.”

“Why?” Technoblade asked nervously, drumming slightly on the steering wheel. “Do you like it?”

“I love it! I didn’t think you could get any hotter but you somehow pulled it off!”

Realizing what they said, Y/N’s cheeks flushed a deep red and they began to pick at their flannel. As soon as Technoblades surprise wore off, and the butterflies faded back to the dull sensation that always seemed to linger when he was around them, he let out a snort of laughter. That sent both of them into a fit which continued until Technoblade hit a pothole from laughing so hard.

Y/N’s momentary fear only made them laugh harder, but Technoblade attempted to quell himself before he no longer had four functioning tires.

“Do I get to know where you’re taking me?” Y/N asked. They had driven a little ways out from the city, to the vaguely familiar areas that one only drives by when they’re leaving town.

“Yes.” He replied, slowing the car into a small parking lot. “Because we’re here.”

The pair entered the small bookshop and a bell rang overhead. The store smelled of dust and books and Technoblade saw Y/N breathing the scent in like a breath of new life. Of course, this ended up in a small coughing fit which he pulled them out of with a few pats to their upper back.

“Okay we are on somewhat of a schedule, so I need you to go get a book. Any book, and meet me back at the register in 10 minutes.” He said, grabbing them by the shoulders and making direct eye contact. “Okay, Go!”

And they both got lost in the mazes of words.

At 4:30 sharp, Y/N found Technoblade waiting for them at the register with a stiff red hardcover. He reached out for their book as they reached for their wallet.

“Tech, no, you don’t have to buy me books I can get it myself”

If for nothing else, the way they shortened the already shortened version of his name made his heart stutter, and he was overcome with the sudden urge to buy them every book in this store. But he wordlessly nodded his head ‘no’ and paid for their two books.

As they walked back to the car, Y/N admired the way his jewelry glistened in the sun. The gold necklaces contrasting against the black turtleneck he wore under his sweatshirt made them think of the summer, when his rings would shine under the sun and in the light of their almost nightly group bonfire. Technoblade opened the door for them when they got to the car, pink hair flying in his face because of the wind. Before getting in, Y/N threw their arms around his neck in a hug.

“Thanks”

They mumbled into his neck.

He blamed his pink cheeks on the cold.

-----

“Let me carry something!” Y/N argued as Technoblade led them down the path of a park a little ways away from the bookstore.

“No.” he answered, a basket and three bags dangling from his arms.

The argument continued as they made their way down the paved path, leaves crunching underneath their feet. A little ways into the walk, when the conversation had faded to discussing the latest reading assigned by Ms. Ren, Technoblade stopped Y/N by throwing a tote bag-laden arm against their chest.

“Here.”

He parted the branches that covered a small, unpaved path that led deeper into the trees.

“How do I know you’re not trying to lure me here to kill me?” mused Y/N, already a few steps ahead of the pink-haired man on the pine-straw path.

“Yeah hold on, let me just get my axe out from this basket real quick” deadpanned Technoblade, earning a giggle from Y/N.

A few moments later, the path opened up to a clearing with a few fallen logs and a small brook trickling near the edge.

“This is beautiful Tech! How did you find this?” they asked with an awestruck expression.

He hid the way that his ears flushed with his hair and busied himself laying out the picnic supplies he had dragged all the way out here, mumbling something unintelligible.

Once he was done, he looked up to find an empty clearing, Y/N nowhere to be found.

“Y/N?” he called

He received a response in the form of a small yelp and a rather loud splash. “Over here!”

“What the hell were you thinking?” he asked, sprinting over to the edge of the stream. Their giggles calmed him a little bit, but didn’t absolve him of all his worry as he subtly looked them over for any injuries.

“I thought the rock would be steady enough to hold me” they pouted, gesturing vaguely at the rock in question, now shiny with water.

Technoblade sighed, rolling his eyes at their antics, but hoisted them up nonetheless. Once they were back on solid ground, he curled his finger around the back of his sweatshirt's neckline and pulled it over his head, almost knocking off his glasses in the process. He missed the way Y/N’s eyes narrowed and focused on the way his black knit turtleneck hugged his figure, tucked into the dark brown trousers Wilbur had dug out of his closet just hours previously.

“Are you warm?” asked Y/N with an incredulous look, teeth slightly chattering.

“It’s for you, dumbass. You’re almost sure to get sick in those wet clothes.”

Y/N’s heart stuttered at the gesture, and at the way Technoblade shushed them when they tried to argue.

He turned away as Y/N shed their dripping flannel and replaced it with the sweatshirt, warmed by his own body heat.

When he turned back, he almost lost his breath again. Seeing them in his sweatshirt, the sleeves dangling past their fingertips and their hair a little tousled from pulling the garment over their head, messed with him just a little bit. He ignored the way that his cold-nipped nose was turning redder and redder and instead gently picked up their hand to guide them over to where he had set up the picnic, next to a towering tree with a thick trunk.

Both of them were hyper-aware of the way that his fingers held theirs, and the warmth that seemed to radiate from their touch. Neither one of them wanted to let go, but as they plopped down onto the picnic blanket sitting on the ground, their grip fell apart.

The loss of contact made the October day seem colder.

The muffled crunching of the leaves under their butts filled the air as they settled into a comfortable position and began digging through the picnic basket Technoblade had brought with food. The tension in the air slowly faded as they began to eat and the atmosphere filled with the joyous conversation of the two painfully oblivious teenagers.

When they had both finished eating, Technoblade pulled out the bag that he had brought from the bookstore and handed Y/N their book. The smile that graced their lips as they mumbled out another ‘thank you’ brought another wave of butterflies down Technoblades stomach. He pulled out his own book and made himself comfortable against the thick tree trunk behind him. Y/N reached into their back pocket and pulled out a ballpoint pen, the cap of the pen riddled with chew marks.

The damn pen.

They stuck it between their teeth and let it hang off of the right side of their mouth. Technoblade felt his chest heat up as they nudged him over to share his spot leaning against the tree. He opened his phone and hit play on a mix of Arctic Monkeys and Gang of Youths, before leaning back to where his shoulder was pressed with theirs and opened his book.

Time seemed to forget its rules in this quiet little forest, with just Y/N and Technoblade lost in their separate worlds of words. The peace was only ever disturbed by Y/N occasionally scribbling something down in the margin of their book, to which Technoblade would demand to see, and they would fall into a small discussion about the topic.

These occasions slowly began to wane off until Technoblade felt Y/N lean their head against him with a thud. He looked down to see them fast asleep, half leaning on his shoulder with the pen still clutched between their fingers. He took note of the way the pen was balanced like a cigarette and the small puffs of air following their cold breath resembled smoke. Ignored the way his heart was almost convulsing on itself, he chose to wrap his arm around them and savour the moment.

Because he was aware that before he knew it, it would be over.

WINTER---------------------------

The student media center had a hushed atmosphere to it, as people took advantage of their last afternoon to study for semester finals. Winter break would let out the next day, but for the overwhelmed Juniors and Seniors now crowding the library, the excitement would not set in until they quelled their nervousness over the last final of the semester.

One of the study rooms situated in the back was now crowded with the notorious friend group as they crammed for their last final. Fundy, Jack and Niki were trading around their history notes, Wilbur and Minx were arguing over the proper situation of a unit circle, and Technoblade was flash quizzing Y/N on the Polyatomic ions. Their frantic studying was interrupted by their friend, George, who had gotten bored of watching his two best friends during their last football practice of the semester. He quietly walked in and took a seat in the corner, pulling out a notebook and studying something or the other.

“Why aren't Dream and Sapnap here cramming with us?” Minx asked George.

“They have their ‘weightlifting’ final tomorrow” seethed George, most likely jealous of his friends’ somewhat pointless final.

Everyone laughed, and some groans of similar jealousy rang through the air right before the cracking loudspeaker of the school crunched to life, announcing that the doors would close at 6:00. Y/N looked down at their watch face, which read 5:45.

“Fuck, I’m never going to learn these charges! Don’t even get me started on the fact that I don’t have the solubility rules memorized!” squeaked Y/N in frustration. Everyone gave them a sympathetic look, knowing the rigorous emotional and mental demands of taking AP Chemistry.

“Don’t worry, you still have the whole night to study!” consoled Fundy.

Technoblade felt his heart break at the way their eyes filled with tears of frustration.

“My siblings scream way too much, I can never concentrate at home”

“Come study at our house!” exclaimed Wilbur. “We can kick Tommy out so he won’t bother you!”

Wilbur sensed their hesitation and cut in before they could say ‘no’

“Come on, Dad won’t mind, he loves you! And it gives us an excuse to send Tommy out!”

Y/N turned their head in questioning to Technoblade, who grunted and nodded his head.

“I mean, if you’re sure”

Eager nodding.

“Thanks so much Wil!”

---

It was 11:50 and Phil’s living room resembled something closer to an FBI clue board, with flashcards and chemistry notes strewn on every possible surface. Wilbur had retired to bed after reviewing his Calculus notes one last time, and Tommy was spending the night at Tubbo’s. Phil leaned against the doorway and watched his son coach his best friend through the last few chapters of the textbook with a smile on his face.

“Make sure not to go to sleep too late! You need enough sleep for your final!” he called, retreating up the stairs.

Y/N checked their watch and sighed at the time. “I should get going soon.” they mumbled, beginning to collect their notes.

“Stay the night” suggested Technoblade, pulling a blanket over their shoulders to protect them from the December chill that seemed ever-present, even with the crackling fireplace illuminating the room.

“I can’t-” A yawn cut their sentence “I can’t stay, I don't have anything and I’ve wasted enough of your time already”

Technoblade took them by the shoulders and looked them in the eyes, albeit having to lean down. “You can never waste my time”

Shivers ran through Y/N’s tired body and they offered him a weak smile.

He plucked the pen that was hanging from their mouth out and feigned disgust as he wiped it on their shirt, before throwing it in the pile of stationary by his feet.

“How about you stay for a hot chocolate?”

The invitation was too hard to resist so they gave in, as long as it was “only ten more minutes”.

Technoblade filled two mugs from the pot of the beverage that Phil had left on the stove, and topped it with marshmallows and whipped cream.

Y/N took the mug from him with a ‘thank you!’, and led the way back to the living room to nestle under the warmth of the fireplace. The pair were both exhausted from the day of studying, and chose to sip their beverages in silence. Before either of them knew it, they were both asleep under Y/N’s blanket, cuddled up against the cold of the night.

---

They woke up to the banging of Wilbur running down the stairs.

“Shit, you two are still asleep?”

Y/N jumped up, knocking over their empty mug in the process. “Fuck, what time is it?” they asked, urgently rummaging around for their bag.

“8:00”

“What time is your final?” grumbled Technoblade, still half-asleep with no intention to get up until his final later that day.

“8:20” they whined, almost breaking down.

“Hey, it’s fine, go get clothes from my room, take anything you want. I’ll drive you.” said Technoblade in a calming voice.

Y/N looked at him with desperate eyes and thanked him before retracing the familiar path to his bedroom.

Technoblade cracked his back and followed Wilbur into the kitchen, intending to make Y/N a nutritious breakfast and pack them a lunch, but was met with Wilburs smirking face.

“What’s the deal?” said Technoblade in his monotonous low, pulling things from out of the fridge.

“Are we going to ignore that you and Y/N slept together?”

“Gross you perv, we just fell asleep studying”

Wilburs smart-ass response was cut off by the arrival of the person in question, clad in one of Technoblades sweaters and sweatpants and ripping their fingers through their hair to attempt to tame it.

Technoblade ignored the all-too-familiar flutter of his heart at seeing them in his clothes and handed them a yogurt bowl he put together. “Let’s go, you can eat it in the car.”

They definitely broke laws driving at breakneck speed, but they pulled into the school parking lot at 8:15 and jumped out of the car, Technoblade following them to make sure they made it to the Chemistry classroom on time. With a minute and a half to spare, they arrived at the door to the classroom, earning a sigh of relief from both of them.

Dr. Yachtrong ushered Y/N into the classroom, but not before Technoblade placed a kiss on their forehead and wished them good luck. They entered the classroom in a daze, which they quickly shook off when the tests were passed out.

---

The final bell rang for the day and the cheers rang around the school, drowning out the crunchy loudspeaker announcements to “have a good Christmas” and to “make good decisions”. Y/N had headed off to their last few classes following the Chemistry final, which had gone as good as one could expect a Chemistry exam to go. They were fairly sure they had passed which at this point, was a major win. As they left the History hallway, they saw their friend Karl leaving the art classroom.

“Karl!” they waved him down.

“HEY! Y/N!!!” he giggled excitedly “Schools out!”

“I know!”

Excited chatter filled the hallways and they bumped into Sapnap, Punz, and Dream leaving the weights room.

“How was your weightlifting final?” snickered Y/N

Punz answered with a slight push to their head. The group was shot out at the front courtyard, where almost all of their other friends were waiting.

The celebratory mood was punctuated by Karl inviting everyone over for an “Epic School Sucks Party” at his house later that night.

Y/N looked around, searching for the pink-haired man that had been flooding their thoughts more than usual lately.

He had been acting differently, nervous even, since the day they fell asleep on him at the park. Y/N was only scared last night's incident would make it worse.

“He’s probably finishing up his Latin stuff” murmured Wilbur, leaning down to their ear.

Y/N’s ears burnt a bright red upon knowing that Wilbur knew who they were looking for. They looked up to answer, but he had already gotten immersed in a conversation with Quackity and George.

The man in question came out of the front doors of the building and made a beeline for their cluster of people upon seeing them. Y/N couldn’t help but admire the cuffs he wore on his slightly pointed ears, and the way his long pink hair fell behind his-

“Oi Y/N is that Technoblades sweater?”

Screw you Minx

“Y/N spent a surprise night over last night” snickered Wilbur, wiggling his eyebrows.

“It's. Not. Like. That.” screeched Y/N, punctuating each word with a smack to Wilbur, somewhat drowned in the laughs and gasps of everyone in their group.

“Why are we hitting Wilbur and can I join?” asked Technoblade once he integrated himself into the tangle of people. The laughs hushed as everyone turned to look between Y/N and Technoblade.

“What?”

-----

The heat of Niki’s curling iron sent warm shivers down Y/N’s neck, a grateful contrast to the harsh December chill plaguing the outdoors. She blew gently on the warm hair before letting it all fall back, tousling it to break up the curls.

“Thanks Niki!” said Y/N gratefully, examining themselves in the mirror. “You’re going to have to teach me how to do this someday.”

Niki laughed, already standing in front of the bathroom mirror to apply her eyeliner. With one eye closed, she spoke to the person now standing behind her, checking their outfit from different angles.

“So really, what’s going on between you and Technoblade?”

She knew of their intense crush on the pink-haired boy, which had started somewhere between 8th grade and freshman year, but she also knew that Y/N tended to be more closed off about their deep personal life.

Y/N sighed, almost in disappointment. “Nothing. And that’s the problem.”

Due to Niki’s sympathetic look thrown their way, they fell down a rabbit hole of ranting which led them to where they were now; on the floor beside Niki’s bed with Y/N’s head in her lap.

“He always acts so weird around me. One minute he’s holding my hand or kissing my forehead, and the next he won't even look at me, or only answers in short sentences. And it stresses me out because I think he hates me, but then he does shit like buying me books just to go read in a forest with him, or staying up all night with me to study for my Chemistry final, and I just-” They took a deep breath, containing their rambling.

“I just get more confused.”

----------

Karls party was in full swing by the time Niki and Y/N got there. They were met at the door by Sapnap and Quackity, who for some reason were handcuffed to each other, and were both giggling and flushed. Y/N and Niki hung their coats on the rack by the door and walked into the festive atmosphere of the house, seeing familiar faces in every corner.

Despite the rowdy environment and the deafening noise, the party was relatively small, consisting of only 20 or so of Karls friends.

They followed Quackity and Sapnap into the living room where a semi-circle of people was lounging on various couches, passing around a blunt and playing what seemed to be truth or dare.

Ah. That’s where the handcuffs came from.

Niki and Y/N decided to play, Niki offering to go fetch them both drinks in the kitchen as Y/N found their place in the circle. To their surprise, Technoblade was there, seemingly uninterested in the game and more invested in something he was doing on his phone. Upon seeing Y/N, he gave them a smile, cheeks flushed with alcohol, and gestured to the small spot between him and the couch armrest. All eyes followed Y/N as they perched on the armrest, mumbling a small ‘hi!’ to Technoblade.

Niki returned with two drinks in hand and shared a knowing glance with Y/N, as well as a miniscule smile, before handing them their drink and taking a seat on a cushion next to Jack and Minx.

“Okay okay, In honor of our new guests arriving, Y/N, truth or dare?”

Y/N knew by the looks everyone was giving them that choosing truth would not be the best option.

“Dare.”

A small sigh of disappointment left Karls lips before a mischievous light came into his eyes and he perked up again. “I dare you to sit in Technoblade’s lap”

Snickers echoed across the group as Technoblade looked up at the sound of his name. He looked up to where Y/N was balancing themself on the edge of the couch, and with some burst of courage, that was probably induced by the alcohol, he wrapped his arm around their waist to tug them into his lap with a squeak of surprise.

After recovering from their initial embarrassment, Y/N turned to the man whose lap they were in. “Techno, truth or dare?”

He huffed but quietly breathed out “Truth”, suddenly very aware of how close their face was to his. After a few brief seconds of eye contact which seemed to last an eternity, they stuttered out

“Umm, do you,- actually, how did, how did they get you to play? This game... I mean?”

“BOO! WHAT A BORING FOOKIN QUESTION!” called Minx from the cushion she was on.

His response of how he didn’t mean to get dragged in to this “stupid middle schoolers game” was slightly slurred as he took a big chug of whatever liquid was floating around his red solo cup.

This worried Y/N. They never saw Technoblade drink more than enough to get him slightly tipsy, but they brushed it off on end-of-the-semester excitement. In any case, they would confront him when they got the opportunity to talk to him alone.

---

Said opportunity arose after the Pizza arrived, and most people began to file into Karls movie room to watch whatever garbage show he decided on running. Y/N stayed back, intending to have full access to the pizza and Technoblade, noticing this, stayed with them. Y/N hopped up onto a counter and pulled the pizza boxes to them.

“Hey Tech?”

“Heh?”

“Are you okay? I haven't seen you drink this much before?” they asked, running a concerned hand through his hair before pressing it to his forehead to check how hot he was.

His eyes closed and he nuzzled into their touch.

“I guess I’m just nervous.”

“Nervous? What do you have to be nervous about? It’s winter break” they answered, a small smile on their beautiful face.

This was his chance.

“I have to start applying for colleges.”

Fuck, he missed it.

-----

The food brought a new bought of energy to everyone at the party, and by 3 in the morning, the celebration was still heavy in the air. Everyone thanked whatever brought Karl’s parents to buy a house far removed from any close neighborhoods, so the noise wouldn’t earn them a police visit.

Loud music blared from the speakers in the living room, which had been cleared of furniture to make space for the energetic teenagers.

Y/N took turns dancing with Niki, Minx, and Jack before being stolen away by Sapnap who spun them around until they almost threw up. Eventually, Y/N ended up on the outskirts of the dancefloor, where they saw their favorite apathetic pig-boy leaning against a corner, snickering at everyone who was embarrassing themselves in their drunken haze.

“WANNA DANCE?” asked Y/N leaning towards him to enunciate over the music.

How could he say no? When they were looking up at him with those big, bright eyes and a slight sheen of sweat over their face.

-----

The party began to dissipate nearing the hours of dawn. Around 5, people began trickling out. Except for the select few who had decided to just crash with Karl.

Technoblade and Wilbur parked a little ways away from their house, walking the rest of the way and ushering each other up the tree by Wilburs bedroom to sneak back in.

It was locked.

“You dimwit, didn’t you unlock the window?”

“Of course I did you arse, where do you think I snuck out from?”

Their bickering was interrupted by a small tap on the glass by none other than a smirking Tommy.

“Leave it to him to only wake up when he wants to annoy us”

“Tommy, let us in.”

Tommy made a rubbing motion with his index finger and thumb. Looking at Wilbur and sighing, Technoblade pulled his wallet out and held up a 10.

Tommy made a ‘more’ motion

20. Then 40. Then 50.

“So generous of you lads, come on in!” he giggled, snatching the money from his brother and leaving the window open for the two to clamber in awkwardly.

Technoblade snuck back into his room, stripping off his sweaty clothes and falling onto the mattress. Before he blacked out, he saw two notifications come in.

BitchBur: I took these pictures tn, thought u might want them ;) (8 images attached)

And

Y/N <3: I hope you figure out the college situation! <3 let me know if you can hang out sometime :D

He opened Wilburs text to find a collection of candid pictures Wilbur had snapped over the course of the night. One of Y/N in his lap, a few of them laughing together over pizza, a few of them on the dance floor, and what had to be his favorite: a picture of them kissing his cheek as a ‘good luck’ for his arm wrestle with Dream.

A smile creeped onto his face and he felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for his brother. He set the last picture as his wallpaper before turning off his phone and falling into a realm of blackness.

SPRING------------------

“That was my very last AP Exam!” exclaimed Y/N, walking through the door of the coffee house where all their friends were lounging.

The small shop erupted with cheers as they celebrated everyone finishing their school year. The cheers eventually died out, though, as the realization sunk in. Tomorrow was graduation.

The seniors in the group, Wilbur, Technoblade, Minx and Fundy were all going off to college.

Wilbur to England, Fundy to the Netherlands, and Minx to Ireland. The one person who hadn’t decided on a college yet was Technoblade.

“Why do you all have to leave the country?” whined Y/N.

A chorus of similar sentiments left the other juniors who were scattered around a few tables that had been pushed together.

As the conversation descended into dorms and expenses, Y/N received a text from Technoblade. The shock of the ‘ding’ made the pen that had been balancing between their lips clatter onto the floor.

Apathetic pig-boy: come outside

Y/N looked around, not having noticed that Technoblade had disappeared from the table. Taking advantage of the conversation everyone else was immersed in, they quietly snuck out, but not without avoiding Wilburs keen eyes, which narrowed upon realizing his brother was not at the table.

They wandered outside, finding Technoblade sitting at one of the outdoor tables covered by the awning.

“My Yale email came in.” he said as soon as he saw them walk outside.

They jumped with barely contained joy. “What did it say?”

“I wanted you to be here when I opened it.”

Everyone knew that Technoblades dream college was Yale. He had talked about it ever since he was a little kid, screaming about Greek mythology on the school playground. Y/N knew that it was Technoblades biggest ambition to study literature at one of the most renowned colleges in the world, but they still felt a twinge of sadness. On top of losing half their friends, they couldn’t lose the one person that meant the most to them too.

“Open it!”

Y/N leaned against the back of Technoblades chair, almost falling over his shoulder as they watched the loading icon on the college’s website.

Technoblade clicked on the notification and they both read it together

Congratulations! We are glad to inform you…

“THAT YALE UNIVERSITY HAS DECIDED TO ACCEPT YOUR APPLICATION! TECH I'M SO PROUD OF YOU!” Screamed Y/N, wrapping their arms around his shocked figure. They placed a million kisses all over his face, gushing about how proud they were of him, ignoring the gut wrenching feeling inside of them.

“What’s the screaming about? Did you two finally get together?” Asked Wilbur as the group flooded out of the coffee shop to see what the commotion was about.

“Yale accepted me.” mumbled Technoblade, just loud enough for them to hear.

The cheers that followed his announcement almost made their small hometown collapse. Congratulations were exchanged and backs were pat, and in the mess, Y/N managed to sneak off to the side. The only person who noticed was Niki, who followed them to the corner of the parking lot where they were kicking at the asphalt with their converse. She sat down, and the two rested in silence, the April wind blowing their hair all over the place.

“He’s leaving.” He’s leaving me. They wanted to say, but they didn't.

Niki gave her friend a small side hug, somehow interpreting the sentence accurately. “He’s pursuing his dreams Y/N, you know he doesn’t want to leave you.”

“How do I make him stay? It’s selfish and I’d feel like a bitch but Niki I don’t think I can live without him.”

“Y/N.”

“Hmm?”

“You need to tell him how you feel.”

----

The next day brought sunny skies and the enthusiastic atmosphere of graduation. They had all managed to snag themselves some graduation tickets to see their friends finish high school.

Jack, Niki, and Y/N were sitting in a Wendy’s parking lot, waiting for the clock to hit 11:45 so they could start making their way to school. It seemed empty without the Seniors of the group, as they were all at school getting ready for the ceremony. Y/N voiced this concern aloud, to which Jack responded, “We’ll have to get used to it. This is how it’s going to be next year.”

And the three fell into silence, sullenly dipping their fries into their frostys.

----

Jack, Niki, and Y/N let themselves be jostled into school with the crowds of emotional parents and kids who were already bored of the event. They found decent seats, near the front aisle and set their belongings down.

Not a moment later, they were greeted by Philza, who filed in with the rest of the boys extended family to sit beside them.

The dimming of the lights led to hushed whispers erupting from the previously rowdy crowd.

Procedure came and went, the salutatorian and valedictorian giving their respective addresses to the crowd, the speech of the somewhat bored principal, and finally,

“Without further ado, presenting the Graduating Class of 2021!”

Cheers erupted from the crowd as names began to be called.

Within the first five minutes, the boredom began to set in and Jack began a game pigeon game, which Phil demanded to be added to. The four played the digital card game until they were pulled out of their concentration by a familiar name being called. They erupted into cheers as Fundy walked across the stage to pick up his diploma and shake the Principal’s hand. The process was repeated until Minx, her eyes shining as she shook the principal's hand earnestly, then flipped him off quickly behind his back, which sent the auditorium into a fit of laughter.

Person after person was called up, until...

“Technoblade Minecraft”

Philza almost cried. He stood on his chair, screaming in excitement for his son which made the boy in question flush as he collected his diploma and took a rather rushed leave off the stage, but not before seeing the heart that Y/N made with their fingers in his direction.

The same general act happened during Wilburs announcement, except that he laughed and gave his dad a cheering motion with his hands.

---

The group spilled out onto the lawn of the school, congratulating people they knew when they saw them. Technoblade and Wilbur joined their family, receiving hugs from a very emotional Tommy. Y/N, Niki, and Jack waited behind for their friends to finish up with their families before tackling them in hugs. Screams and whoops came from the puddle of people on the floor, everyone yelling things to each other. The atmosphere was charged with happiness, and relief, and one couldn’t help but feel elation despite the bittersweet nature of graduation.

“Alright mates, party at my house!” boomed Philza over the noise.

The infamous graduation party. They had planned the two-part party in middle school, when they had had their first sleepover at the group's “hub”, aka Philza’s house. Since then, the party had become a reality and the first part would be executed tonight. The next being, of course, when the remaining half of the group graduated.

A marquis was set up in Phil’s garden, now uncluttered and full of spring blossoms. It was such a different atmosphere than it had been last summer, when their bonfires would stretch out into the early hours of the morning.

Food laden tables were scattered around the marquis, and to everyone's delight, a chocolate fountain rested on one of them.

After collecting food and gifts from various guests, the group found themselves sitting under the shade of a large tree with a rickety old treehouse balancing on it, which Tommy and Tubbo were attempting to devise a plan to get into with the help of their friend Ranboo, who didn’t seem as enthusiastic about the idea as the others.

“My flight leaves next week.” sighed Minx, leaning against Niki’s shoulder.

“I’ll be out of here by July the latest”

“Phil’s taking us to London next week and I’ll just be staying”

Everyone turned to Technoblade to reveal when he would be leaving for college.

“I’m going to Connecticut a week before the beginning of the term”

“So how long will you be home this summer?” Y/N asked, setting down their cookie.

“Between travelling and dorm set-up, I’ll probably only be here for about two weeks total.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears as they pushed their head into Technoblades chest.

“I just-” sniffle “I just can’t believe you’re all leaving!” they cried, muffled by Technoblades button down.

This sent everyone into a fit of tears as they all began hugging each other for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

The moment was interrupted by Phil, who came out of the house with a camera and various props. Encouraging everyone to gather around and take pictures. Everyone scuffled around to fix their disheveled appearances and began making their way to Phils makeshift photo booth.

“Tech- wait!” called Y/N, pulling him back by the forearm. “Your hair”

They put pressure on his shoulders to get him to lean down so that they could fix his stray hairs.

Right then, looking at the way Y/N’s shoes sank into the ground and feeling their light touch in his hair, he decided. I have to tell them. This is my last chance.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“I-” deep breaths, “I need you to-”

“Come on, lovebirds get in the picture!” called Phil, walking over to drag them to where everyone else was.

Y/N gave him an apologetic look, woven with the silent promise of later.

Damnit Dad.

----

The pictures had lasted what felt like eons, but between the corny props and the harsh afternoon sunlight, they held valuable memories.

But Technoblade had no interest in them at the moment, as he dragged Y/N behind the trunk of the tree they had sat at before.

The sunlight filtering through the leaves made Y/N’s face all that much more beautiful, and Technoblade struggled to tear his attention away to focus on telling them. He gathered up his courage and opened his mouth to speak.

But the only thing that came out was “OW!”

As a pinecone bonked off his head and rolled away on the ground, leaving chips of it in his hair.

“Look out below!” Called Tubbo from somewhere above them. So they managed to get in. Damnit.

Y/N took his hand and led him to the other side of the tree, away from the boys’ field of destruction. They sat down gently, pulling Technoblade down with them to pluck the pieces of pinecone out of his hair.

“Here. Distraction free! Now tell me what you’ve been trying to say because there’s something I need to tell you too.”

That gave Technoblade the perfect opportunity to gather his nerves. “You go first”

“No, it’s fine you!”

“No you go!”

It seemed as if the stars had collided and sent out particles so many eons ago with the knowledge that everything would lead up to these two kids coming to the same conclusion at the same time.

“I love you”

Their eyes met as they stared, wide-eyed and gaping-mouthed at each other. Overcoming the initial shock, they began to ramble.

“I didn’t think you felt the same way because you always got quiet around me and then you woul-”

“Can I kiss you?” Technoblade interrupted them, not really hearing their rambling through the buzz going through his brain.

They nodded shyly in response as he wrapped his hand around the back of their neck to pull them dizzyingly, tauntingly closer. He looked into their eyes one more time to make sure they were serious, but Y/N was already closing the gap between their lips. They hoisted themselves into his lap and gripped his hair to bring him impossibly closer.

But alas, in this group of people, nothing goes unnoticed or undisturbed.

“EW! TECHNO’S KISSING Y/N!” screamed Tommy from the balcony of the treehouse which resulted in whoops and cheers from everyone at the party.

“FINALLY!” yelled someone amongst the crowd.

Y/N felt their ears burn a bright red as they buried their face into Techno’s neck.

“Yeah Y/N! Get some!”

“Oh fuck off!”

A/N: i hope u guys liked it :D, also this is my first time writing with they/them pronouns so if i made a mistake pls don’t hesitate to correct me!

#c!techno #technoblade #technoblade x reader #mcyt x reader #technoblade fluff #technofluff

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slytherinbarnes · 4 years ago

Text

there are ghosts in the sky, iii

iii. but can you save a dying sun?

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 15.0k

Warnings: angst, fighting, violence, death, anxiety, mentions of nausea/puking, language.

Summary: a battle for your body and a battle for Sanctum results in shocking causalities, both battles ending in a way you could have never guessed.

a/n: here it is!!! part 3 is here, this au is finished!!! this marks the end of the sub rosa universe (for now), and I have a lot of feelings about that. mostly I am just grateful to all of you, and I hope you’ll stick around to read my next series/other new works! if you would like your sub rosa tag to be converted to a general bellamy blake x reader tag, please let me know!

p.s. sorry for the late in the day upload today, life has been crazy and the day got away from me!!!

au series masterlist // sub rosa masterlist // full masterlist

You only catch bits and pieces of what’s happening outside of your body, but as the barrier between your mind and Josephine’s continues to break down further, you’re able to hear more and more of the outside world. In between catching information from outside of your body, you keep yourself inside Josephine’s side of the mindspace. You know that it’s only going to break down your minds faster, but you’re desperate for information you can use against her later, so you use your downtime to scour through her memories in search of something useful. By the end of your research, the only thing you know for sure is that Josephine is awful, and she doesn’t deserve your body, let alone to resurrect again.

You can tell a few hours have passed since your initial Morse Code attempt, and you weren't sure at first if it worked.

That is, until you heard Josephine begging someone to kick you out of your own head. There’s not much you can do other than wait around and hope that someone is trying to save your life, and you finally get that confirmation later on when you catch onto the tailend of a conversation between Josephine, Clarke, and Bellamy. You’ve gathered enough bits and pieces to know that all four of you are currently being held captive by the Children of Gabriel, and the other three are using the time to ‘bond’, if you can actually call it that. Josephine is moaning about the tragedy of her relationship with Gabriel, and you push the stack of memory books out of your lap and to the side, running from the memory space and into the hidden diner.

You ignore the patrons and head straight for the Christmas lights again, tugging them down and calling out, “Monty!”

He runs into the diner, looking at you in alarm. “What is it?”

“Morse Code, I need your help. How do you say boohoo?”

His nose scrunches as he looks at you in confusion, “Boohoo?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It doesn't matter why, just please tell me what it is!”

He shrugs and grabs the paper and pen you’re holding out to him, thinking for a second before he quickly writes out the message. When he passes it to you, you give him a smile of thanks, listening as Josephine mutters, “I've been in love with Gabriel for 236 years, the last 70 of which he's been trying to kill me. You know, relationships.”

You start working on your light, signaling out the code Monty gave you.

—●●● B

— — — O

●●●● H

— — — O

You can hear Josephine translating the letters for Clarke and Bellamy, before she ends the quip with, “That's harsh.”

You can catch glimpses of your twin’s broken voice questioning the woman who stole your body, hope entwined with her words. “She can hear us?”

“It would seem so. Which means the wall separating our minds is almost gone.” You look around you, at the diner in Josephine’s mind, realizing that parts of it are already starting to fade. Panicked, you run out of the room and back to your side, slamming the red door behind you as you go. “When that happens, she'll stroke out, I'll download, and you can say goodbye to your genocidal fiance and sister.”

You can hear Bellamy’s voice next, thick with emotion. “Let me talk to her.”

“I'd have to give over control for that, so no.”

“But she can hear me?”

“Yes, she can hear you. For God's sake, just say what you want to say.” Josephine sighs, seeming to sense that Bellamy has something he wants to say to you. You stand waiting and listening, eager to hear his message to you.

His message hits you harder than anything he’s ever said to you before this, his voice so broken and mixed with hope when he answers, “I won't let you die.”

Tears instantly spring to your eyes, and you collapse to the floor of the Ark, letting the tears fall down your face as you process Bellamy’s message to you. I won't let you die. You know he means it, and you know that your odds of survival are good with both him and Clarke on your side, both of them desperate to save your life. The moment fills you with hope, and you sit crying alone in the Ark, waiting for your family to save you.

Everything seems fine until it’s not.

You can tell that something has changed, sensing the stress within your own body, accompanied by the overlapping din of voices above you. You can't make out any of the words, but you don't have to wonder for long, because as you sit in the hall of the Ark, Josephine suddenly bursts through her red door and heads straight to you. She looks panicked, her eyes wide, and you pull yourself to your feet quickly as you sense the incoming danger. “What? What is it?”

“They’re about to chop our head off! I need you to take control so we can live.”

You don't have time to answer her, because she turns to her right and types in a code for a locked door, before grabbing your arm and shoving you through. As usual, you are blinded by a flash of white light and then your eyes open and clear, locked on a gray stone wall. Your heart rate picks up when you realize that you’re back in control of your own body, but you’re also dangerously close to losing your life. Your head is being pressed into a stone, and your hands are being held behind your back, and as everything comes into focus, you hear someone say, “The answer is death to Primes.”

You sense movement to your right, and you call out, “Wait!”

You can tell that the person to your right, the one who intends to cut off your head, freezes, and you work on buying yourself some time. “Gabriel loves her, is this what he would want?”

Your words seem to be the wrong ones, because the man yells out, “Don't you use his name!”

And then you sense his movement again. This time, though, you’re ready for it. As he lifts the sword and swings it around to cut off your head, you kick out at the man holding you in place. Your foot connects with the space by his knee, and you can tell that his leg is broken by the sound alone. He releases you, giving you just enough space to avoid the sword that is coming towards you, which clangs against the rock instead. The man looks down in shock, and you use that to your advantage, grabbing his arm and his other shoulder and pulling him down, smashing his head into the rock.

You grab his fallen sword and turn and swing at the man with the broken leg, cutting his throat, and as you look up you see a final person coming towards you. The woman moves towards you and you stalk over to her, swinging the sword out and cutting her neck before she can even comprehend your movements. She hits the ground and you stand in place for a second, panting, trying to catch your breath, brought back to reality by your fiance calling your name.

You look up and meet his eyes, his expression so hopeful, and Clarke watches on, equally as full of hope. You drop the sword and run across the room, grabbing his face with both hands and pulling him into a kiss. You pull away, both of you with tears in your eyes, before you step over to your twin and pull her into a hug, the two of you laugh crying with relief. You only pull away when you hear the sound of approaching voices, and you spin back towards the man who was going to kill you, grabbing the set of keys off of his belt before running back to your fiance and twin.

You quickly try to uncuff them both, but your hands are shaking and anxiety is pulsing through you as the voices grow closer. Bellamy and Clarke are both watching you closely, and Bellamy puts his hand over yours to still your movements. “We don't have time, you have to run!”

You look up at him in alarm, shaking your head sharply. “No! I’m not leaving either of you.”

Clarke reaches out for you, her hand grabbing your wrist, encouraging you to look at her. “Bellamy’s right, there’s no time. Go find Gabriel.”

You look between then both, panicked, but the approaching voices only grow closer, signalling your ticking clock. And you hate that you know they’re right, and you hate the idea of leaving them both, but you know all of your odds are better if you do. Which is why you give them both one last look, the voices just around the corner now, before Bellamy panics and pushes you away, “Go!”

You leave the keys in his hand and you take off running, pushing hard to outrun the voices that seem right at your back. You tear through the woods, leaves and branches smacking you as you go, but you ignore them, trying to put as much distance between you and the Children of Gabriel as you can. You can hear them closing in on you, led by the man that nearly killed you, and you pause and duck behind a tree, trying to catch your breath. You start to run numbers in your head, wondering how many you can reasonably take out before they take you out, and just when you deduce that there are too many of them and not enough of you, you hear the roar of a motorcycle, signaling Sanctum’s arrival.

You look up, watching as the bikes weave between the trees, and you take off running again, choosing the lesser of two evils, heading straight for the riders. As you move, you scream at the top of your lungs, “Here! I’m here!”

The Sanctum riders fly towards you, pulling up to a stop and grabbing their guns, aiming at the group of people right behind you. As you grow closer to the Sanctum riders, the Children of Gabriel grow closer to you, this game of cat and mouse getting a little too close for your liking. When you’re within a few feet of the riders, Jade, Josephine’s guard, yells out, “Down! Get down!”

You drop to the ground without hesitation, covering your head with your hands, hearing bullets whiz by over head. Someone drops to the ground behind you, landing on your legs, but you don't dare to move until you hear the shooting stop. Finally it does, and you hear Jade shout orders to the others, “I’ve got her, you get the rest!”

You hear three motorcycles drive off, leaving you alone with Jade, and you almost shake your head at how perfect this is starting to play out for you. Because when Jade grabs you and helps you to your feet, you lift a large rock and bring it with you, turning and knocking her out before you’ve even stood to your full height. As you drop the rock, you nearly jump out of your skin when a voice behind you mutters, “Really? She just saved your life.”

You spin around quickly, locking eyes with Josephine, who is standing feet from you, a look of disappointment on her face. But you ignore that and focus on the fact that she is standing right in front of you, outside of the mindspace. “Why can I see you?”

“Because it's getting worse, like I said it would. Look, what you did back there was awesome, but don't let it be for nothing. Give me back control.”

You ignore her, knowing damn well that you have no intention of giving your body back to her. Because it is your body. And despite the panic that courses through you as you realize that you are likely nearing the last few hours of your life, you turn away from Josephine and grab the radio off of Jade’s side. Josephine mutters under her breath, “I'll just get it anyway when you fall asleep.”

But when she sees the radio in your hand, she looks at you in confusion. “What are you doing now?”

You continue to ignore her and lift the radio in your hand, remembering one of Josephine’s memories that you discovered earlier in the evening. Josephine sits in front of her father, anxiously twirling her hair. Russell cuts her a look, but lets the habit slide as he delivers the news. “Spies from Sanctum discovered a camp, just on the verge of the anomaly. There’s a sculpture of radios, which they suspect is how the COGs get messages to Gabriel.” You press the button of the radio and keep your eyes locked on Josephine as you say your name and add, “Gabriel, you don't know me, but I need your help. Josephine Lightbourne is in my head. If you can hear this, we're coming to you.”

You stalk past her and head back to the bike, and she follows you the entire time, pleading to your back. “This is insane. He didn't respond to their call, he's probably dead. Please, let's just go back to Sanctum.”

You grab Jade’s discarded helmet and lift the motorcycle, as Josephine crosses her arms and glares at you. “I'll drive. But for that, you do have to give me back control.”

You swing your leg over the bike as she protests, “You don't know how to-”

You cut her off by starting the bike and revving the engine, another useful memory you have stolen from Josephine’s head. Her glare gets angrier as she watches you, “What else of mine have you stolen?”

You smirk and answer her in Mandarin, “Sucks, doesn’t it?”

And then you pull the helmet onto your head, and drive off, leaving her behind in a cloud of dust.

You drive for a while before crashing, thanks to Josephine, destroying your radio in the process. Lucky for you, Josephine knows a place for you to hide, leading you to a bunch of old research outposts nearby. Unlucky for you, you have a seizure almost as soon as you climb down into the outpost, your brain struggling to keep up with the data from two minds.

You have never been more disappointed to wake up in your mindspace, though you’re not sure if that's because of the small taste of control that you got to experience, or the fact that your mind is clearly in disarray. You wake up in your room, surrounded by memories stashed inside of books, but none of them are yours. And as you wander into the hallway, you see that it’s much worse than that. Books are stacked on nearly every available inch of flooring that you can see, and projections from Josephine’s memories wander the halls in various emotional states. Some are angry, some are sad, some are distressed, but all of them are a problem.

You find Josephine not long after wandering from your room, catching as she walks past you absentmindedly. With the two of you reunited, you briefly consider killing her and ending all of this once and for all, but her response makes you pause. She glares at you, just as annoyed at this entire situation as you are, before she bites back your earlier words to her, “Go float yourself.”

The words give you an idea, a way to save the two of you from your approaching destruction, and you and Josephine run around frantically, trying to float her memories to hold off the impending demise of your brain. You only do a few at first, allowing her to pick the memories that she wants to lose, but soon that has to be abandoned in favor of an all out destruction of property. You rig up the outer doors to vent everything in ten seconds, Josephine’s memories now heavily integrated into your own at this point, both of you well past the point of no return.

You and Josephine head back to your room, into the place you shared with Bellamy, the only room safe from the venting into space that is occurring outside your door. You know it works when Josephine disappears, leaving you alone in your mindspace again. You start to panic, wondering if this is it for you, if Josephine really will make it out of here with control of your body, leaving you to truly die. Just as you really start to spiral into a panic, you catch a pair of voices outside, one familiar, one not.

Josephine refers to the unfamiliar voice as Gabriel, and you almost cry in relief when you realize that somehow he found you after all. He's not dead, and he’s here to get his ex lover out of your head. Josephine confirms the familiar voice seconds later when she greets Blodreina, and you smile at the fact that somehow Octavia is alive and she’s here to help you.

Of course, chaos reigns supreme on this damn moon that you hate so much, because as soon as the four of you exit the research outpost, Josephine calls out for the Sanctum guards nearby, begging to be taken back to Sanctum. Gabriel argues and says that Josephine's body, your body, is on the brink of death, and he has to save you now, because neither of you will make it back there. But of course, the guards don't care, and just when Gabriel and Octavia are on the brink of death, they are saved by Bellamy and Clarke, a turn of events that leaves you incredibly thankful to have them in your life.

Unfortunately, Gabriel’s prediction about your impending death is correct, because Josephine collapses, your legs going numb and giving out beneath her, and Gabriel catches her and whisks her away back to his camp. Clarke, Octavia, and Bellamy follow, and before you know it, you can hear the steady beeping of a heart rate monitor, along with the increasingly clear voices outside of your head. Josephine makes a last ditch plea to save herself and wipe you instead, but thankfully Gabriel ignores her and stops your heart.

They quickly work to remove the mind drive in your head and then restart your heart again, which should put you back in control. You see the door to Josephine’s side crack and explode, the wall now turning into just another wall of the Ark. You wait patiently, knowing that means that the mind drive is gone, but instead of waking back up in the real world, you remain trapped in your own head. You look around in confusion, wondering why your heart is still stopped, and why you’re still staring at the walls of the Ark. “Wait. Why am I still here?”

“Because I'm still here.” You turn around in confusion, now facing Josephine, and you have a split second to register the axe in her hand before she swings it towards you, cutting your neck. You reach up and grab your wound, light shining between your fingers, as you shake and gasp and watch the enemy in your head. She drops the axe and it tumbles and lands near your side as she mutters, “Sanctum is mine.”

She looks down at your struggling form with a smirk. “I used the surgical mesh. I'm sorry about the whole working together thing, but I know you, Wanlida. If you came back, you'd kill everyone inside Sanctum. It's what you do.”

You struggle to focus on her words as you realize that your version of bleeding out in your mindspace is visually a lot different than bleeding out in the real world. But the pain and the struggle and the suffering, those are all just as real as the world outside of your head. Josephine kneels down across from you, still smirking, watching as you quickly die. She only turns away when another voice outside of your body, Gabriel’s, tells the others, “I'm sorry, but her brain can no longer support two minds.”

You can hear a counter protest, though your mind struggles to decipher the words, only able to unilaterally focus on the pain radiating out from your neck. And as you sit there dying, you can't help but think about how cruel this is. You survived your initial attempted murder, only for this to be the way you go out? In your own head, and watched on by your body snatcher, no less. But as the seconds pass by and you wait for your death, you realize that at least one person is unwilling to let you go. Clarke’s voice reaches you from outside of your mindspace, calling your name, her voice broken and hurting and desperate. “I can't lose you again, la lune! I need you. Bellamy needs you. Madi needs you. Mom needs you. Now wake up!”

You listen to your twin’s broken cries, quickly replaced by the broken cries from the love of your life as he begs you to fight for your life. “I should have fought harder for you. I should have burned Sanctum to the ground and killed everyone that got in my way, but I’m fighting for you now, god damn it! You're a fighter. Now wake up and fight!”

And as soon as he says it, you know he’s right. You told Josephine yourself that you don't go down without a fight, and you meant it. You’re not dead yet and you’re not going to let her win. Josephine seems to listen on with mild amusement, surely plotting the dramatic return she wants to make as soon as you officially die, but unfortunately for her, it's not a return she gets to make. Because you eye the abandoned axe, discarded and sitting right next to you, and you pull one of your hands away from your light bleeding neck and reach for it. The blade scrapes against the floor as you lift it, drawing Josephine’s attention towards you, and this time she’s the one who has a split second to process the current events before you throw the axe right at her center mass, shattering her projection into a million pieces.

And as soon as you do, it’s like a switch flips, because you take in a large, wheezing breath, pulling your eyes open in alarm, feeling nothing but panic. But there are two sets of hands caressing your face, two voices soothing you as you struggle to catch your breath, two familiar faces watching you closely as they look between you. Clarke is the closest to you, and she tentatively whispers your name, searching for any sign that you are really you. And you respond in the only way you think you can by sitting up and pulling her into your arms, holding her tighter than you’ve ever held her before. She’s crying, you’re crying, the Blake’s are crying, and even Gabriel is crying, though for different reasons.

Clarke releases you so Bellamy can grab you, tugging your face towards him and pressing the most loving kiss to your lips, his mouth telling you everything he wants to say to you in the moment. You kiss him back just as hard, incredibly thankful that you won over Josephine, gaining back control of your body once and for all. And though your heart goes out to Gabriel, you can’t help but be thankful that Josephine is forever gone.

In true ‘chaos of Sanctum’ fashion, it turns out that everyone else that you know and love has been left behind in Sanctum and are now likely in danger. And it turns out that Bellamy’s plan to save everyone was to use Josephine’s mind drive to bargain with Russell, using the life of Josephine for the lives of your people. And it turns out that the very same mind drive that was meant to save your people is now empty, because you vented all of Josephine’s memories, and she jumped ship in order to kill you and take your body instead. Too bad for her that you came out on top.

You make the suggestion of going back to Sanctum as Josephine and freeing your people yourself, but you are swiftly shot down by both Clarke and Bellamy. Which sends all of you back to the drawing board, brainstorming ways to save everyone and inflict minimal casualties. That drawing board, however, is taken over by Gabriel’s Children, who all seem a little too eager to kill all of you, with you and Gabriel at the top of their lists. Thanks to some split second decision making on Bellamy’s part, he figures out a plan that gets everyone what they want: you save your people, the Children of Gabriel get to kill Primes, Gabriel gets to save the rest of his people inside Sanctum. Bellamy’s plan, however, gets him and Octavia sent on a supply gathering mission, leaving you, Gabriel, and Clarke behind.

During which time, you propose to change the plan, a little uneager to release a bomb that will get innocent people killed, this new genocide reminding you a little too much of Mount Weather. And Clarke disagrees at first, uneager to see you march right back to the devil’s side without any back up. But it’s easy for you to convince her, because she's your twin, your other half, and she gets it. She may hate every second of it, but she understands completely the fears you posses about having to carry the weight of another genocide within you. More than that, she trusts you. She knows that you can get the job done and come out of the other side unharmed, which is why ultimately, she agrees.

Once the Blake siblings return, Gabriel breaks the news to them about the change of plans. Octavia doesn't seem to understand why this is a big deal at first, but Bellamy catches on right away. He turns to you with a glare, shaking his head sharply. “No. No way.”

You look at him with pleading eyes, trying to get him to understand why this plan has to happen. “Bellamy, it's the only way.”

“It's not the only way, because we’ll use the bomb as planned. Risking your life when we don't have to is just-”

You cut him off, finishing his sentence, “Is how we do better. Bellamy, I know you’re worried about losing me again, and trust me, I’m terrified to go back there and do this, but I have to. This is how we save lives, and prevent innocent ones from being taken. I know you, and I know you care about that too. If I go in as Josephine and shut down the shield, then Gabriel only needs to use enough red sun toxin to trigger the alarms and kill a few bugs. All of those people, innocent people, will be safe.”

He sighs, scrubbing his hands over his face in frustration, before turning away from you to look at your twin. “You’re okay with this?”

“Not really. But it’s how we do better.”

You can tell he’s starting to reluctantly come around, and he turns back to you, his expression serious. “If you fail, if Russell figures out that his daughter is dead, then all of our people are dead too.”

“I won't fail.”

He gives you a look, but he takes note of your conviction, and you know that he believes in you. And just like Clarke, he gives you his blessing, though you can tell that he hates doing it. You all turn to look at Octavia, who’s been quiet during the entire exchange. She looks at you for a long second and then nods, “If we can spare innocent lives, we should.”

You smile at her, nodding in thanks as she agrees with you instantly, and with everyone on the same page again, Gabriel goes back to building the smaller bomb. This time though, he is interrupted by the whine of motorcycle engines nearby. You all look up and at each other in shock, knowing what that means.

Sanctum riders.

Layla and a few other Children of Gabriel storm into the tent, tying all of you up and then gagging you. They spread you out across the room, with you and Bellamy beside each other, Clarke across from you, Octavia to your left and Gabriel to your right. You’re only in there for a few minutes, listening to the fighting outside when you hear a strange scratching sound from the back of the tent. You turn that way, eyes watching as a blade sticks through the material of the tent, dragging down to the bottom, creating a slit in the fabric. You all tense up, unsure who’s about to come inside, surprised when it’s Murphy’s head that pokes through. He steps inside, followed by Jade, a gun in her hand. At the sight of them, you recognize this for what it is: a rescue mission. You know they’re here for you, well at least they're here for your body, and you tense up as you watch Murphy and Jade slip inside.

Murphy steps into the middle of the tent, while Jade sneaks around the back, ducked behind the debris and mess, and once she’s in position, Murphy calls out to Layla, “Hey there.”

Layla spins around quickly, instantly lifting her gun and aiming it at Murphy, but Jade sneaks up behind her a second later and hits her with her rifle, knocking Layla out. Jade grabs Layla’s dropped weapon as she walks past, moving carefully before dropping down in front of you. “Josephine?”

You shift your eyes to Clarke, who gives you a subtle nod of her head, and you know you can't risk looking at Bellamy given his close proximity to you. But you can sense him tensing up, and though you know that he doesn't want you to leave, he’d agree to it too. Which is why you meet Jade’s eyes and nod your head. Jade puts the guns down and pulls the gag out of your mouth, and you make sure to raise the octave of your voice slightly, trying to perfectly capture Josephine’s tone of voice. “Well done, Jade.”

Jade pulls out a knife to cut through the restraints wrapped around your wrists and ankles, and you shift your gaze to Murphy, smirking, “You just can't pick a side, can you, John?”

“The only reason I'm doing this is because Emori dies if I don't.” Murphy turns to look at Bellamy, voice dropping a little. “The others are in trouble too. I promise I'll do what I can for them.”

Jade stands and helps you to your feet, looking between you and Murphy. “Give us two seconds to make sure it's clear, then follow.”

Just then, Layla starts to shift, and Jade grabs and lifts her gun, prepared to kill her. You feel a rush of alarm, and despite the threats she's hurled at you since showing up a few hours ago, you don't want to watch her die. You reach out and put your hand on the barrel, pushing the gun down to lower it, your tone commanding and angry. “No, this one's mine.”

You grab the discarded pistol from the table and aim it at Layla, glancing over your shoulder to look at Jade, who seems content to let you handle this. “Go, make sure it's clear.”

She nods and immediately turns to slip out of the tent, but Murphy stays put, his eyes locked on you suspiciously. “Is she really gone this time?”

“Yes. Boohoo.” You smirk at him, taunting him, using your earlier quip to Josephine and throwing it at Murphy this time. You can see a flash of anger cross his features, but you speak up before he can channel it, reminding him of the danger you’re in, waving the gun slightly. “Now, as soon as I pull this trigger, your little decoy trick will fail. You better run.”

He gives you one last look before he jogs to the cut in the tent and heads outside, and you wait for a full minute before turning back to Layla. She looks up at you with fear, clearly expecting you to kill her, but you surprise her by turning the gun away and then firing a single shot into the floor, keeping her safe. And then you set the gun down and run over to Bellamy, pulling the gag out of his mouth and giving him an earnest look. “I can do this, Bellamy.”

“I know you can. Go get that shield down, and we’ll bring the cavalry.”

You nod and smile, “I love you.”

“I love you more than the stars.” And with that you pull his face to yours and kiss him hard, reminding him of just how much he means to you. You turn and head to the door, stopping in front of Clarke along the way. You pull the gag from her mouth and she whispers, “I believe in you, la lune. Be safe.”

“You too, shining star.”

You give her a quick hug before you stand and look over at everyone one last time before you slip out of the tent and into the cool night air. You look around, eyes searching the woods nearby for any sign of Jade or Murphy, when someone flashes a light at you, signaling their location. You head that way, finding Jade and Murphy waiting for you, and they quickly lead you through the woods and to a pair of bikes hidden underneath a pile of leaves. Jade passes you a helmet before getting the bike upright, and then she waits for you to hop on, expecting you to drive yourself back. You move to straddle the bike, hoping you remember enough to get by as Jade readies the other bike for her and Murphy. And then on her signal, you both fire them up and drive away, heading back towards Sanctum.

You do pretty well on the ride back, and you arrive at the shield of Sanctum proud of yourself, though you can’t show it. As soon as you hop off the bike, it and your helmet are taken by a nearby guard, and the shield is quickly brought down so all of you can enter inside. You are accompanied by no less than 10 guards, all of whom seem wound tight and on edge. And though you feel the exact same with each step that brings you closer to Sanctum, you keep it hidden beneath a casual air of confident arrogance.

As soon as you crest the hill that leads to your first view of the palace, you are met with another group of guards, all standing around Russell. When you catch sight of him, you’re sure you're going to throw up, but you suppress the sensation and look away, pretending to take in the sights of Sanctum. And as a last ditch effort, you reach up and casually twirl your hair between your fingers in the way you've seen Josephine do in the hundreds of memories that you watched. With a small deep breath to steady yourself, you turn and meet Russell’s eyes, which are watching you closely. You smile and quip, “What? No hug?”

“Josephine.” His face breaks into the widest grin when he hears that his daughter is alive, and you’d almost feel bad for him if not for the fact that he's an evil body snatching asshole. Still, he takes you up on your offer and steps towards you, pulling you in for one of the tightest hugs you’ve ever experienced. You’re a little caught off guard by his fervor, but even more caught off by the question he mutters near your ear. “How is this possible?”

He pulls away and you smirk, “It's a long story. Suffice to say, I'm awesome.”

But then you think of the lack of the mind drive in your head and you know that the second he realizes you’re not Josephine you're dead, so you lie and say, “What I'm not, however, is immortal. Gabriel took out my drive.”

Russell’s face falls, but he nods and turns to a pair of guards behind him, motioning to Murphy. “Take him to Emori, and clear the doctor and the rest of their people from the lab.”

Your brows pull together at the mention of your mom and the others in the lab, and the mention of your own mother makes you realize there is another mother missing. You glance around for her and then shift your gaze to Russell. “Where's Mom?”

He lifts his hand, uncurling his fingers to reveal a mind drive, still stained with Nightblood. You do your best to look worried, though you could honestly care less that Simone got what she deserved. “There was an incident, but it's okay. I was just on my way to resurrect her, but that can wait.”

You shake your head, not understanding. “Resurrect her in who?”

He gives you a look, and you remember the bits and pieces you gathered from Josephine before Bellamy and Clarke dragged you out of Sanctum. Your mom, your real mother, was back in space making the Primes Nightblood. “Abby did it. We can make hosts.”

“Yes, but not how you think.” Your stomach drops as he says that, not sure you want to know what that means. But he doesn't notice, and he reaches out and wraps his arm around you, leading you towards the lab. “Come on, let's get you checked out.”

As soon as he starts to lead you away, he asks for a quick rundown of the events prior to this moment. You keep most of the story the same, aware that bits of the truth will make the lies easier to remember. The only thing you change, however, is the fact that you survived the second mind wipe and Josephine didn't. “Anyway, I killed her in the mindspace. Now here we are.”

As you step into the lab, your eyes fall on a small body strapped to the chair in the center of the room, black blood leading from tubes in their arms and into a small bottle. Your stomach drops even further and you pause a little, before reminding yourself who you are and where you are, leading you to quip, “How about next time, we choose a less crowded host, what do you say?”

As you come around the chair and you finally get a look at who is strapped to it, you have to work hard to keep your expression neutral and impassive, because it’s Madi. Your niece, your little sun, is currently being drained for her Nightblood bone marrow, just like the Mountain Men did in Mount Weather. You try to keep your tone light as you ask, “And what is this?”

You turn to look at Russell with a smirk, channeling Josephine’s unhinged ways, and he answers, “This is how we make hosts.”

You don't get to answer, because Madi starts to stir at the sound of your voice, muttering your name before she asks, “Ani, is that you?”

She sounds so small and hurt and broken and it makes you want to save her and break this whole moon in half. But the rest of your people are out there, and they’re still in trouble, and they're relying on you to get the shield down. So you continue the facade and answer, “No. It's not. She put up a good fight, though, kid. Can't win them all.”

Madi doesn't react well to that, and she starts screaming, “We're gonna kill you! We're gonna kill all of you and everything you love!”

You try to hide the emotion you're feeling as you turn and grab one of the tranq sticks behind you before walking back over to Madi and sticking it in her arm, knocking her out. And then you turn to Russell, curious about how much life your niece has left. “How many doses can we get out of her before she dies?”

His expression changes, and you’re worried you've said the wrong thing, that you sounded too worried when asking. So you backtrack and smile, shaking your head and turning away from her. “You know what? Nevermind. It's time for my new drive, being mortal sucks.”

Russell smiles at you and sets up a chair, motioning for you to sit in it, face hidden from view, giving him access to your neck. As he works on giving you another drive, he tells you about the chaos in Sanctum that occurred while you were gone, including the chain of events that led to the death of Simone, your fake mom. You hum and respond when appropriate, though you spend the entire time anxiously worrying about Madi and Bellamy and Clarke and the rest of your people. As Russell finishes up the stitches on your neck, Madi wakes up again, the tranq stick not working long enough. And as soon as she catches sight of you, she starts yelling again, tugging against her restraints as she rages, “We should've killed you first. Once we're free, you will burn. You will all burn! You will not get rid of us! We are eternal!”

We? Us? You keep your mouth shut during Madi's tirade, terrified that your emotions will make your voice quiver and you’ll give yourself away, but you try to use your silence to process her words, trying to figure out why she's talking about herself in a plural sense. Russell finally has enough of Madi’s yelling and he yells for the guards to retrieve the doctors, which only further fuels your anxiety. Because if your mother breaks down when she finds out that you're not you, you’re worried that you’ll break character to comfort her, getting all of you killed.

You don't have to worry about what you’ll do for long, because the moment quickly comes and the door swings open, your eyes catching sight of three sets of legs. Madi continues to yell and fight until Jackson sedates her, a moment which can't come soon enough. You're able to hide your falling tears as your face is hidden, but you know that the moment will soon be up and you’ll have to face everyone in this room and play your part well. Russell dabs at your neck with a rag and then mutters, “There.”

He squeezes your shoulder, letting you know you're good to get up, and you sit up slowly, your eyes landing on your mother immediately as she stands in front of you, watching you closely. You keep your expression neutral, trying to pretend that you have no emotion or feelings towards her, and she must see that, because she starts to cry. It breaks your heart and you have to look away, distressed at the idea that your mother thinks she’s looking at someone else in your body. Russell distracts you a little by asking, “How do you feel?”

“Peachy keen Josephine.” Your gaze falls back to your mother, who is now crying harder, her face scrunched up and tears rapidly falling down her face. You can't take the sight of it anymore, so you channel Josephine and snap, “Oh, stop it. I'm not her.”

Her sadness morphs into anger, and she walks towards Russell, stopping when she’s close enough to get in his face. “I will kill you for this.”

“I once believed that I would never stray from the moral path, and then I killed my family in the first eclipse. I'd have done anything to bring them back, so I believe you.”

And then he turns and holds out a hand for you, which you reach out and take. He leads you from the room, past your mother and your niece and your friends, and you manage to call out, “Toodle-loo.” before practically running from the room. Russell leads you past the creepy army of skeletons that watched over you as you were nearly murdered, before taking you out of the reliquary and up the stairs to the palace. You walk into a large dining hall together, Murphy and Emori already sitting at a table inside, as Russell turns to you, his voice low. “You must be starving, let's get you something to eat. After that, I need you to handle the Naming Day preparations.”

You shake your head, well aware that if you get sucked into party planning, you’ll never be able to get away and get the shield down. But you know you can't say that, so instead you say, “I'm not hungry and I just got back. Get Priya to do it.”

He looks into your pleading eyes, and you know he’s picturing the first Josephine, the one he killed, the one he raised from birth. And his sentiment is enough for him to swing over to your side. “Fine, I'll get Priya to do it.”

“Good. Now, if I spend one more minute like this,” you motion down to your clothes, the ones that you wear daily, but the ones that Josephine seems to despise. “I will spontaneously combust from the shame.”

Russell smiles and nods, “Go get cleaned up, I'll resurrect your mother.”

From the table nearby, Emori calls out, “Wait, does that mean Echo's still alive?”

Echo. She's the next host for Simone. You rack your brain quickly, wondering how you can buy her time before she gets wiped out for good. You decide to continue playing off of Russell’s sentiment, hoping it’s enough to delay Echo’s murder. “Hey, I want to be there when Mom comes back. Wait for me?”

Lucky for you and for Echo, Russell smiles and nods his head again. “Of course, sweetheart. Be quick.”

You nod and turn and walk out, Jade following you as you go. You almost roll your eyes but you refrain, already working on how to get rid of her. As you reach the doors of your room, she takes up her post outside, and you stop and look at her before you step inside. “I’m gonna get cleaned up and take a shower. Don't wake me for a few hours, I had a long night.”

She nods once, letting you know she understands, and then you turn and head into Josephine's room, closing the door shut behind you. You head straight for the bathroom and turn on the water in the shower before stepping over to the mirror and looking at your reflection. You don't have time to actually shower but you look like hell, and there's no way Josephine would be walking around like this. So you quickly clean your face off and fix your hair, before raiding Josephine’s closet for an outfit that is nicer than your own, but practical enough that you can kick ass in it if you need to. Once you look presentable, you turn off the shower and throw your clothes in the trash, thinking it’s something that dramatic ass Josephine would do.

You ruffle the sheets to make them look slept in, just in case someone walks into this room, and then you head to the window and swing it open to look outside. There’s nothing beneath your window, but there is a series of balconies that zig zag along the wall, starting to your left. And if you stand on the edge of your window and say enough prayers to the Universe, you think you can reach it if you jump out towards it. Thankfully, Sanctum is on lockdown because of the spreading revolution, so no one sees you leaping and jumping your way from the top of the palace down to the bottom. The whole experience reminds you of escaping the throne room in Polis after Clarke destroyed the City of Light, and the reminder of Bellamy and Clarke is enough to fuel your descent down to the ground.

The night is fading when you finally reach the ground, the suns starting to rise in the sky, urging you to get a move on as everyone is likely just outside of the shield by now, waiting for you to take it down. You sneak around the palace and to the front, heading straight for the lab again, the guards opening the door to you without a second thought. You keep your expression neutral and your head high, exuding all the power that you can possibly manage as you step into the lab. Your mom, Jackson, and Raven all jump and scramble apart, clearly up to something based on their nervous expressions.

But you ignore them and jog towards your mom, reaching out and pulling her into your arms, hugging her tight and letting her know you're okay. She freezes and whispers your name, still skeptical, and you feel tears start to fall down your face as you nod, letting her know that it’s actually you. She wraps her arms around you and hugs you back just as tightly, both of you crying as you hold each other. She cries into your hair, “What happened? I thought I...how?”

You both pull apart and you reach up to swipe away your fallen tears. “It's a long story, but I'm okay.”

She accepts that's all you can say for now, before you turn your gaze to Madi, who is still sedated, looking even worse than before. You feel worry etch itself into your features and Raven catches sight of it before she informs you, “It's the Flame.”

You look up at her in horror. “The Flame that I put in her head?”

“It’s Sheidheda. I'm working the problem, but I need Becca's book.”

You look down at Madi, and as much as you hate to say it, you know that getting the shield down is the first priority. Because without any Primes in need of Nightblood, she’ll be safe again. You turn to look at Raven again and you mutter, “That can wait because I need you to come with me. We don't have much time, we have to lower the shield. Bellamy, Clarke, and Octavia are waiting with the Children of Gabriel.”

“I can't go with you.” Raven shakes her head, her eyes dropping down to Madi. “If she wakes up again, Sheidheda will kill her.”

You nod, thinking before you counter, “Okay, I'll use Ryker. The reactor's beneath the machine shop anyway.”

“No.” You look up at her in surprise, her objection coming out stronger than you were expecting. You must look confused because she clarifies, “Ryker turned Echo in, he won't help you.”

“He won’t help me, but he’ll help Josephine. She can be very persuasive.” You turn your focus back to your mom, your voice almost pleading. “Until then, promise me you won't take any more bone marrow.”

Jackson pipes up, “That's not a problem now. There's another Nightblood in the family.”

You look at your mom in shock, about to object, but she shakes her head, reaching out to put her hand on your cheek. “I won't let them take her.”

Jackson recalls the time all of you spent in Becca’s lab, back before Praimfaya, back before body snatching Primes, and he muses, “Like mother, like daughter.”

You ignore him, focusing on your mother still. “I love you.”

She smiles at you, bright and genuine and happy, and you marvel at it, as it’s a smile she gives you so rarely. You tuck it into your memory, wanting to keep it forever as she whispers back, “I love you too, la lune. Now go save us all.”

You nod and head straight to Ryker’s shop to persuade him to take the shield down for you. Unfortunately, instead of Ryker, you find Ryker’s dead body, his skin cool to the touch, meaning he’s been out for a while. You make a split second decision to take his mind drive so you can use it as leverage against Priya, and no sooner do you get the drive out does Russell open the door to the shop and head your way. He seems oblivious to the drive you have stolen, or the fact that you snuck out hours ago, and you frame Echo as the thief of the drive, vowing to get it back for him. Russell agrees and tells you he’s going to resurrect the others in the meantime, giving you enough time to find Echo and the missing drive so that you can end this once and for all. He also forces you to take a handful of guards with you, and you have to hide your annoyance as they are just one more roadblock in your way.

You search a few places for Priya, relieved when you finally find her inside the tavern, stiff and uncomfortable. You assume your Josephine persona and call out to her, “Priya, there you are. I've been looking all over.”

She turns around in shock and gives you a cool smile when she sees you. “Josie. I heard you had quite the adventure.”

“You have no idea, and I'll tell you all about it, but first I need your help with something in the machine shop.”

She looks at you with concern, “What did Ryker do now?”

“More like what didn't he do.” You drop your voice lower, so the others in the tavern can't hear you as well. “Dad asked him to wipe one of the prisoners, but he's completely lost his nerve. It's embarrassing.”

“He's never wanted to face the reality of our situation. Let's go.”

The two of you turn to leave, heading towards the door with your guards right behind you, but you only make it halfway there before a loud yell comes from behind you. You and Priya jump and turn around in shock, just in time to see Echo vaulting herself off the bar, taking out one of your guards. Gaia and Miller jump over next and take out the other two, and as soon as Priya sees that you are both guardless, she turns to the door in fear, yelling, “Josephine, come on!”

But as she tries to run past you, you reach out and punch her, knocking her out, and her body falls to the floor with a thud. You look up and meet the surprised eyes of your friends, and you smile at them, letting them know it’s you. Echo smiles back and whispers, “I knew it.”

She walks towards you and pulls you in for a hug, and she releases you a moment later, allowing you to hug both Miller and Gaia in greeting. With the mini reunion out of the way, Gaia looks at you with confusion. “How are you here?”

“I'll explain later, but first we need to lower the shield. Bellamy and Clarke are out there with the cavalry. We can get Priya to help me take down the reactor, and then we go after Madi.”

They nod in agreement, letting you know they’re with you, and you, Echo, Miller, and Gaia all sneak Priya back to Ryker’s shop and anxiously wait for her to wake up. The suns have already set on this impossibly short day, and you continue to grow anxious with each passing second, aware that a whole bunch of people are relying on you to get this damn shield down so Gabriel can deploy the toxin. Though, you start to think that someone somewhere got the plan mixed up, because you hear alarms go off for the toxin, though the shield is still very much up and Priya is still very much unconscious. You smack her face a few times to wake her up, and you threaten to smash Ryker’s drive if she doesn't agree to cooperate. The threat seems to do the job because she quickly types in the code to take it down before Miller tugs the bag back down on her head after you motion for the group to follow you.

You all sneak down to the base of the stairs to Sanctum, waiting for Bellamy and Clarke to arrive with the others, and after a few tense minutes of waiting, they come running up the hill towards you. They both hug you desperately, grateful that you’re still alive, and you inform them of the danger you’re all in now that Gabriel has deployed the toxin too early. A crowd has gathered outside the palace, and a collective decision is made to tell the truth using Priya, all of you hoping that will be enough to convince the people of Sanctum that they are living a lie, and that the ensuing chaos will be enough for you to get your people out.

Bellamy agrees to take Priya and the drive and do the talking, since he's always been the best with speeches, and a few minutes later the tides seem to have turned in your direction. That is, until Russell steps out of the palace and gives a short speech about how disappointed he is, seconds before he deploys a small bomb made of red sun toxin. This toxin quickly spreads through the crowd, turning believers against non believers, and the Children of Gabriel that are all around you pass out the antitoxin so none of you will be affected.

As Bellamy returns and you all try to figure out what to do now, Miller catches sight of Raven, Madi, and Jackson being led into the palace, all three of them restrained. Miller and Clarke seem desperate to reach the people you love, but you know damn well that you have the best chance of getting in there and getting them out alive. And though Clarke and Bellamy again seem reluctant to let you go, they know you have the best chance too. So with another tearful goodbye you head to the palace with Gaia in tow, who is pretending to be one of your guards. As soon as you step inside of the large dining hall where the others are gathered, Gaia melts into the background and you look around the room, taking everything in.

Murphy and Emori are dressed in the nicest clothes you've ever seen them in, both of them also wearing makeup, clearly now part of the elite group of Primes. Gabriel is also in the room, surprisingly enough, restrained and being held captive along the edge of the room. The rest of the room is dotted with various other Primes, all recently resurrected. As soon as Russell sees you, he anxiously walks your way. “Thank God. Where have you been?”

“I was looking for Priya, but then I was blocked by a bunch of Gabriel's lunatic children. She's dead, by the way. What the hell is going on?”

A surprising voice answers from behind you, “We're leaving Sanctum until it's purified.”

You turn around in confusion, coming face to face with your mother, dressed in Sanctum clothes. She crosses the room and closes the space between the two of you, and you tentatively whisper, “Mom?”

You already know in your bones that it isn't her, but you pray that she answers you in some way, letting you know that she’s still inside her head. You pray that your mother has not just been body snatched by the asshole Primes, but you already know that she has. Gabriel must sense your turmoil because he answers for your mother, “Your mother murdered her mother. Ironic, don't you think?”

And Gabriel’s confirmation hits you like a train. You want to scream and cry and truly burn this fucking moon to the ground for all they have done to you and your family, but you can't. You have a part to play and you have to play it for your people’s sake. So you turn to Gabriel and mask your sorrow for your mother as sorrow of regret, slapping him across the face as you snap, “Don't you speak to me. How could I have ever loved such a traitor?”

You feel tears run down your face, only visible to Gabriel, and your mother, your bodysnatched mother, puts a comforting hand on your shoulder, not realizing that your tears are for the body she’s in. “Oh, sweetheart. At least you have closure.”

Russell cuts your mourning short as he anxiously eyes the room. “That's enough. Now that we're all accounted for, it's time to go. Have you all taken the antitoxin?”

Everyone nods, you included, but you also shake your head in confusion. “Go? Where?”

“To space, of course. Sanctum has lost us. For now, anyway.”

One of the Primes argues, “We have no pilot. Priya's dead. Maybe if you didn't kill the Lees.”

“That won't be a problem.” Your mother, Simone, turns and grabs a gun from one of the guards, before spinning and locking her gaze on Raven. “We don't need the Lees, do we, Raven?”

“Go float yourself, murderer.”

Simone cocks the gun and points it at Madi, and you have to work hard to keep your fear hidden beneath your neutral expression. “How about now?”

Raven looks distressed, tears streaming down her face, her eyes darting over to you. You can’t say or do anything that will give yourself away, but you have to hope she’s as desperate to save Madi as you are. And it seems as though she is, because she turns her gaze back to Simone, nodding her head and softly whispering, “Okay.”

“Good choice.”

Russell accepts the compliance and begins yelling orders, “Guards, take the prisoners. We're using the tunnel, but be prepared for anything.” Everyone starts to file out of the room behind the guards and the prisoners, leaving you to linger behind. Russell starts to walk past you, but pauses when he reaches Gabriel. “Goodbye, old friend. Sanctum is yours, though I suspect you won't last very long.”

He stalks out of the room with Simone on his arm, leaving just you, Gaia, Murphy, Emori, and a few guards. You start to slowly follow the others out of the room, and Murphy and Emori pass you as you do, heading in the wrong direction. You stop and turn to ask, “You're not coming?”

Murphy is upset, and you can see tears in his eyes, with some already fallen down his face. He steps close to you, his voice an angry whisper. “You killed her. All she did was help and you killed her.”

You feel tears rise to your eyes when you realize he’s talking about you. Everyone's favorite cockroach is expressing regret and sadness for the way things went down with you and your body snatching. You glance at Emori, wondering if she shares the sentiment, and you catch the tears in her eyes before she nods. “We're staying. We're gonna save our people.”

You turn to look at Murphy, figuring it’s safe enough to let him know that you're okay. You smile a little and whisper, “I'm proud of you, Murphy.”

His eyes go wide as he realizes that you called him Murphy and not John, and you see the smallest smile grace his lips before he remembers to hide it. But he lets you know that he understands by leaning close and whispering, “Just so you know, Josephine called me ‘John’.”

You don’t get the chance to say anything else, because Russell calls out from behind you, “Josie, Daniel, Kaylee, is there a problem?”

You quickly wipe away your tears, and put a sneer on your face, turning to face him. “They changed their minds. Cowards.”

“The mind drive is a terrible thing to waste.” He shrugs and then turns to look at you again, “Josie, bring your guards and let's go.”

“Guards, move out.”

As all of you start heading towards the door, Gaia included, Russell catches a glimpse of her and yells out, “Wait, she's one of them! Throw her to the wolves.”

Four sets of guns turn on her, and Gaia looks at you with fear. You do some quick thinking and shout, “No! I saw her in Clarke's mind. Threatening the child may work on Raven, but if I'm right, we need her to get on that ship.”

You turn to look at Russell, trying to convince him that you know what you're talking about, and he finally nods, motioning for the other guards to lower their guns and grab her instead. They comply, and Russell takes one last look around the room before motioning for you to leave ahead of him, as he and the other guards follow closely behind.

You all quickly head to the transport ship and board with your hostages, and Raven flies you up to the Eligius mothership despite her earlier disagreement. You, Russell, and Simone all stand in the airlock with guns to the heads of your hostages, waiting for the doors to slide open so you can begin your negotiations. Some of Wonkru, led by Indra and accompanied by Niylah, all stand at the entrance waiting, guns pointed your way. At first, Indra seems unwilling to let any of you board, but luckily Gaia manages to signal to her mother to stand down, allowing all of you to take control of the ship. All of the people who are awake on the ship are led to the mess hall where they can be easily contained, and as soon as you let Madi and the other prisoners go, Madi yells out for those in the room to attack.

They are quickly shot down, restoring order within seconds, and you cross the room to Madi in a flash, smacking her across the face so hard that you knock her out. You let out a shaky breath, trying to push back your emotions over hitting your niece, though only your people see it because of the way you’re facing. You quickly compose yourself and turn back to your fellow Primes, heading towards the door as you call out, “Let them rot!”

All of the Primes follow you out into the hall, and once there, you start to discuss next steps. One of the male Primes, you don't know who, turns to Russell as soon as you are outside of the mess hall. “Planet Beta. Russell, we don't even know if it's survivable.”

“If it isn't, we go for Gamma, then Delta, then Epsilon. We won't even have to land to find out if it's survivable. Assuming there are no other signal sucking anomalies, we can access the mind drives of the other teams wirelessly from up here.”

Everyone seems placated with this information, everyone that is, except for Simone. She turns to her husband, shaking her head. “Russell, I love you, and I will go with you across the stars and back, but that child is a problem.”

You roll your eyes, hoping you can diffuse the talk of murdering Madi with a Josephine style joke. “Oh, for God's sake, she has the blood. In fact, dibs on her as my next host.”

Russell adds, “Simone, if we kill their leader, they will never follow us, and we need those people to serve us unless you plan on cleaning latrines.”

She sighs, clearly only on board with the idea of keeping Madi alive, because she doesn't want to do the jobs that she thinks she is too superior for. The thought makes you sick to your stomach. “Fine, but we’re killing her sleeping army because I promise you they are already talking about how to wake them. We brought enough mind wiping fluid to erase them all in their sleep, where they'll be perfectly preserved until one of us needs a new host.”

Your mind starts to race, wondering how much longer you can keep up this facade while still also saving the hundreds of Wonkru and Eligius people that are sleeping peacefully on this ship. You miss the agreement of the other Primes, and you're only pulled out of your head when Russell turns to you expectantly. “Josie, what say you?”

You slap a smile on your face and answer, “Are you kidding? It's brilliant! A little genocide, a long nap. What the hell? Let's be explorers.”

Russell sends the other Primes to the bridge of the ship, while you, him, and Simone retrieve the mind wiping fluid from the transport ship and head towards the sleeping army. You offer to carry it for them, and they think nothing of it, passing the liquid to you as they discuss the logistics of how to vent this into the room. The whole way to the cryo chambers all you do is search for an opportunity to run off with this liquid, but you don’t know what you’d do after that or where you’d go. You're stuck on a ship in the sky with no way to fly back down to Sanctum, all while the rest of your friends are locked up on the other side of the ship. So instead, you go along with the plans and discussions, nodding when appropriate, standing near the back as Simone rigs up the ventilation system to hold the fluid. She works quickly, all while you rack your brain to stop this, but you struggle to think of anything useful. Eventually though, time is up, and Simone reaches out to you. “Hand me the serum.”

You pull it away from her outstretched hand, your brain only able to come up with one distraction technique. You look at Simone with concern, before asking, “Are you feeling okay? You look pale. Have you had any nosebleeds or memory flashes that aren't familiar?”

“No, what are you talking about?”

You try to sound as casual as you can when you answer, “Oh, it's something I saw in the mindspace. Her mother had the same neuromesh as she did. I thought they destroyed it with an EMP, but-”

Russell cuts you off, his voice resolute and a smile on his face, as if failed mind wipes are a funny little mistake. “They did, I examined her before resurrection. I wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.”

Your blood runs cold, and you realize that this is it. There are no more stops for you to pull, no more tricks. You have to give up your advantage, reveal that you’re not Josephine at all, because that’s the only way to prevent a genocide. So when Simone reaches for the container again, you pull your arm away, backing up and putting distance between you and Josephine’s parents. Russell seems to figure it out first, though Simone is right behind him. His eyes well up with tears as he looks at you with sorrow, and you have another thought that it would be heartbreaking if he wasn't talking about a murdering body snatcher who tried to kill you multiple times, just so she could keep your body. “No, not Josie!”

You back away from the grieving parents, looking between then, shaking your head. “I can't let you kill these people. And believe it or not, I am sorry for your loss.”

You give them both one last look before you take off running, trying to put as much distance between you and them as you can. You don't hear the thundering of footsteps following you, and you start to rack your brain on why they wouldn’t follow you, until you have the horrifying realization that they’re likely grabbing Madi and searching for some way to track your mind drive. Deciding to tackle one problem at a time, you head to one of the hallways that holds an outer door, rigging up a way to get yourself out of this mess. You find a supply closet with a bunch of old and broken items from the ship, including a few discarded safety tethers. You grab them and head back to the lever to the outer door, tying them as tight as you can to a large metal bar on the wall. Then you attach the other side of the tether to your waist, hoping that it’s strong enough to hold you if the Primes call you on your bluff.

Sure enough, a few minutes later the Primes come into the hall, a tracker held in one of their hands, weapons in all the others. As soon as you see them you reach out and put your hand on the lever and yell, “Don't move! I set the inner door to stay open when I pull this, so you can put the guns down, or you can float.”

The Primes all freeze, looking between each other in shock, wondering what to do, when Simone turns her gun on all the others, “You heard her, weapons down now.”

You look at her with hope, lip quivering as you fight back tears, realizing that maybe your mom is okay after all. “Mom?”

She turns to you with a smile, and it warms your entire body. “Yes, it's me.”

The other Primes all put their guns down, and once your mother knows that you're safe, she turns to you with tears in her eyes. “I've been pretending too. Now let's lock them up and go save Madi.”

She turns back to the others, still pointing her gun at them, but something about the situation isn't sitting right with you. You aren't sure what, maybe it's because she didn't use your nickname or hug you or doesn't seem as emotional as she usually would be. Maybe it’s the fact that you remember Russell’s words about how he double checked for a neural mesh and found none, meaning there would be nowhere for your mother to go in the mindspace. Regardless of what it is, you call out to your mom's back, “What's my father's name?”

You repeat his name in your head like a mantra, begging her to say it, but your mother only turns around and looks at you with a blank expression. That’s enough for you to know the truth, that your mother truly is dead, and Simone is just trying to play you. You can tell that she knows you aren't buying it anymore, because she tries to turn her gun on you, but you quickly pull the lever to the outer door, sending all of the other Primes into space. Simone is the exception though, because she manages to reach out for you on her way past, wrapping her arms around your waist and holding onto you tightly as you both move and shift with the rushing air. You look down into your mother’s face, now being worn by someone else, and you swear you can feel your heart rip in half. You killed this woman's daughter, and you know she'll never let you live after this.

Which is why you put your hand on your mother’s forehead and push, sending her out into space with the other Primes. You use the tether to make your way back to the lever, pushing it down so you can close the outer doors again. You hit the ground with a thud, a sob tearing through you for the first time, finally able to mourn the loss of your mother. But then you remember that Russell was not with the group, and he likely has Madi, so you push your emotions aside for now, tucking them away. You untie yourself and head straight for the mess hall in search of your niece. You use Shaw’s failsafe code to get into the room, looking around at the group gathered there as they all stare at you in shock. “Where's Madi?”

Gaia answers, “Russell took her.”

“Oh, no. Oh, no. No, no.” You feel your knees give out beneath you as you realize that this is it for Madi. She is going to be killed for what you've done, and there is likely no way for you to stop it. Raven comes over to you, grabbing your arm, trying to comfort you. “We'll get her back.”

You look up at her with tears in your eyes, “No, you don't understand. I killed his family, and now he's gonna kill mine.”

Before she can answer you, the door to the mess hall slides open. You scramble to your feet and watch Madi and Russell walk in, followed by a large group of armed warriors. Indra mutters, “The demon awoke Wonkru.”

Madi yells, “Kneel if you want to live!”

You are the first one to kneel, tears in your eyes, and she looks down at you with disgust. “They said you were strong, but you're weak. Your love has made you so.”

You feel your tears spill down your face, and you lean over to one of the Wonkru guards nearby, snatching the pistol from his side and holding it to your temple. You look into Madi’s eyes, ignoring the fact that Sheidheda has made them so cold and unfeeling, and you start to beg. “Madi, I know you're in there. Please come back. I lost my mother today, I nearly lost myself. I don't know if Clarke and Bellamy are okay, and I can't lose you too. Please.”

She looks at you with a blank stare and the tears fall down your face as you reach for the trigger. “I'm gonna pull the trigger in 3...2…”

You nearly make it to one, stopping as Madi takes in a deep breath, holding up her hand and yelling, “Take the Prime and his men!”

Wonkru immediately responds and lowers their weapons, only turning them on Russell and his other men. Madi runs across the room and straight into your arms, both of you hugging each other tightly as you relish in the fact that you have saved one of your family members today. But just as you’re enjoying your reunion, Madi starts to seize up in your arms, sending you into a panic as Raven yells, “Get her upstairs!”

Jackson and Indra both grab her and quickly carry her upstairs, and you run up after them, despite not knowing what's going on. They take her into a small medical lab and strap her to a table as Raven lifts an electrical cord and sticks it into the open wound on Madi’s neck, presumably connecting it to the Flame, all the while Madi continues to seize. You call out to her, letting her know you’re here for her, trying to encourage her to fight in the same way that Clarke and Bellamy encouraged you. “Madi, I'm here. Listen to my voice, you can do this! You have to fight, Madi. You have to fight!”

Raven furiously types away at the computer, isolating Sheidheda’s code before yelling, “Got him!”

The code starts to delete from the Flame, uploading onto the other computer in the room. As soon as it’s up and out of Madi’s head, you look down at her expectantly, waiting for her to wake up. But in the same way you didn't immediately wake up after Gabriel tried to restart your heart, Madi doesn't move either. You reach out and press your finger to her neck, your stomach dropping when you barely feel a faint flutter beneath her skin. “Her pulse is too weak.”

Raven looks at you, remembering what it was like after you fried the Alie chip in her head. “We have to take it out like you did with me after the EMP.”

Jackson immediately hops into action and grabs a scalpel, increasing the cut on Madi’s neck before reaching for a pair of forceps. He uses them to pull the Flame out of her head, the AI looking terrible and destroyed as it pulls free from her neck. As soon as it’s out, Madi takes a deep breath, Sheidheda finally gone, her mind back to only holding one Commander. You drop down beside her, smoothing her hair back from her face and smiling as you whisper, “Hey little sun, I’m here. You’re gonna be okay.”

She smiles at you slightly, still weak and exhausted, whispering, “Thank you, ani.”

You transfer your gaze to Raven, who is standing close, looking down at Madi with worry, and you reach out to her and grab her hand, squeezing in thanks, well aware that she did all of the work. “Thank you, Raven.”

She squeezes back, her face full of regret when she counters, “I’m sorry about Abby.”

You nod, still not ready to process the loss of your mother. And with your niece saved and your people saved, you want nothing more than to get back down to Sanctum to make sure that Bellamy and Clarke are safe. Raven agrees to get you ready to fly within minutes, and you assemble a small team to head back down to Sanctum, while everyone else waits it out for a while, allowing you to make sure it's safe for them to follow.

You’re relieved when the transport ship finally lands back inside Sanctum, ready to reunite with Bellamy and your twin again. You and Madi walk hand in hand back to the village, both of you leading the group of your people as you return. Everyone starts to break away from the group and hug their friends and family as they see them, and you're almost caught off guard by both Bellamy and Clarke running your way. Clarke runs straight for Madi and lifts her in her arms, holding her tight, while Bellamy scoops you up in a hug and twirls you, both of you laughing with happiness. He puts you down so he can kiss you, and when he pulls away, he pulls away just enough to whisper against your lips, “I had a whole speech planned, but I can't wait any longer. Will you marry me?”

Your smile grows wider, loving this proposal just as much as the first one, as this one comes off the heels of your nearest death experience to date, and you whisper back, “Yes, of course I will.”

Bellamy smiles and kisses you again, before sliding the ring on your finger, looking the happiest he has in a while. Clarke lets out a little happy cheer, and you roll your eyes at your twin before pulling her in for a hug, just as happy to see that she’s okay, and she hugs you back, celebrating the fact that despite all the odds, you survived. As the two of you pull apart and look Bellamy’s way, he starts to tell you all about the journey that Gabriel has planned and how all of you should go with him. Your mind flashes to your mother and how she’s now dead and gone, floated just like your father, and you desperately want to escape the memory of what you’ve done. Which is why you agree to the journey with Bellamy and the others, hoping it’s enough to take your mind off of things. Your mother’s death is exactly why Clarke agrees to stay, hoping that she can clean up the mess in Sanctum and make her proud. So though it pains you both to separate again so soon after reuniting, you do, both of you needing to process her death in your own ways.

You, Bellamy, Octavia, Gabriel, and Echo all head back to Gabriel’s camp together, exchanging stories of what all of you have missed. Before you know it, you make it back to Gabriel’s camp, and he leads you all inside of the tent, motioning for you to gather around as he pulls the rubber panels that make up the floor away, tossing them to the side, revealing an old hatch. “I have to tell you I'm very excited about this. I've been studying those symbols since we found the stone, we built the camp here because of it.”

He lifts the hatch, revealing a short ladder into the ground, and he climbs down inside. All of you file down the ladder after him, standing at the base of it, staring at the object hidden from the world beneath this camp. It’s a large ball, made of metal, designed in the same swirl on Octavia’s back. The entire thing is covered in different symbols, and somehow, the ball is floating, supported by nothing. All four of you stare it in shock, not believing what you’re seeing, and Gabriel just smiles at you, glad you’re just as enamored as he is.

Gabriel walks towards the stone, Octavia right behind him, as he says, “It's thousands of years old. We have no idea who made it or what generates the magnetic field that holds it up, but we're pretty sure it's what sucks in all the radio signals.”

Some of the symbols on her back are red, it's a code.”

“Very good. We're about to find out what it's for.” Gabriel holds his hand out to Octavia, “May I see the drawing, please?”

She pulls the drawing of the tattoo from her pocket, passing it to him, and he unfolds it, searching the stone for each of the red symbols, and then touching them with two fingers, the symbol humming beneath his touch. As he works, Bellamy asks, “What happens if you're right?”

“I filled 100 notebooks with possible answers to that question.” He comes to a stop in front of the last signal, now standing beside Octavia. He turns to her, a small smile on his face. “The last symbol in the series is called an octonion. Advanced mathematics way above my head, but I don't think it's a coincidence you share a name. Please, it should be you.”

He gestures to the symbol, and she hesitates for a second before touching it, the symbol humming beneath Octavia’s touch. With the last symbol entered, you all stand waiting, staring at the stone in search of what’s going to happen next. Except, nothing happens, the moment stretching on for too long, and Gabriel’s face falls as he looks down at the sketched out tattoo again. “No, no, no, no, no. It can't be right, we must have got something wrong.”

As he turns to look at Octavia, a low rumble starts to shake the ground above, a sound not unnoticed by your fiance. He holds up his hand to Gabriel, gesturing for him to stop talking. “Quiet.”

All of you stand perfectly still, the rumbling growing increasingly louder, a strange green glow coming from the ground above the hatch. Gabriel looks up with a smile, the paper in his hand slipping from his grip, floating to the ground. “Oh, my God. I knew it.”

He bolts past all of you and heads up the ladder incredibly fast, and all of you scurry after him, trying to keep up. When you get into the tent, it’s flapping and shaking like you're in the middle of a windstorm, and a bright green light surrounds everything, casting an eerie glow. The sound is almost deafening, and you yell to be heard above it, “What the hell is this?”

Octavia just ominously whispers, “She's here.”

You look at her, taking note of the shocked expression on her face, very different from the confused expression on your own. She starts to walk forward slowly, and you hear a high pitched whine from the mouth of the tent, seconds before a figure starts to step inside. It's a girl, not much older than you are, her hair done up in two buns. She has symbols like the ones tattooed on Octavia back, except hers are on her face, etched across her cheeks and forehead. Octavia laughs when she sees the girl, a sound of happy shock, and she says, “Hope.”

You all look at Octavia, wondering what the hell is going on, and the girl, Hope, answers, “I couldn't get out of it, he has my mother. I'm so sorry, Octavia.”

They embrace, pulling each other into a hug, one that seems stiff and awkward, and Bellamy watches on, his anxiety growing. He yells, “Octavia, what's happening?”

Octavia leans up and whispers something in the girl’s ear, the words lost to all of you over the roar of whatever is happening around you, and as soon as she finishes talking, they pull apart. Hope steps backwards, a knife in her hand, the tip coated in blood, and Echo yells, “Knife!”

The pieces fall together, and you and Bellamy look at O, who starts to fall backwards, clutching her side. Bellamy catches her, his voice worried as he mutters, “O.”

Echo runs over to Hope and restrains her, along with Gabriel, as Bellamy holds his sister in his arms, you right at their side. You reach out to Octavia, pulling her layers aside to get a look at the wound, and as you do, you hear another high pitch whine, seconds before a bright green cloud slides into the tent, washing over Octavia and then pulling away. As the green glow subsides, you and Bellamy stare at his now empty arms, his sister carried off by the bright beam of light. You look up at each other, sharing a look of disbelief, trying to confirm that you both saw the impossible. He looks back down at his shaking hands, her blood covering one of them, evidence that Octavia was here, and then he turns and heads for the exit of the tent looking for her. You follow him outside, Hope collapsing as you walk past, but you ignore her, following your fiance out into the woods, the bright green light subsiding, returning back to where it came from.

The woods outside are empty, devoid of any sign of Octavia, no blood, no clothing, no nothing left behind as proof that she was out here. Bellamy spins in place, tears falling down his cheeks, his voice breaking with worried desperation as he yells, “Octavia! Octavia! Octavia!”

And there’s nothing for you to do but watch as the love of your life falls apart, his sister now gone. The mystery of Sanctum grew and then subsided, taking Octavia Blake with it.

#bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake fanfiction #the 100 #the 100 rewrite

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weltonreject · 5 years ago

Text

Selling a Fake

| Theo didn’t fly home right away; he stayed in Antwerp and together, he and Boris flew back to New York. They start over, two troubled teenagers all over again. They’ve replaced scorching Vegas summers with chilling New York winters. It was never about the place anyway. They’re together-- they’re something-- but Theo still struggles to be open to strangers passing by. | [9.3k] [ao3]

Holding hands with Boris in public was still uncomfortable; still felt like an unnecessary announcement to the world about things that were grotesque and hidden for a reason. Theo used to think it was because time spent with Boris was time spent completely obliterated and sloppy. Admitting to strangers his associations with Boris felt like openly lifting a bump to his nose in public. Well, that’s what Theo thought it felt like, until he realized that maybe being with Boris openly was the only thing that felt so criminal in the first place.

That, of course, was what Thursday afternoon brunches were for: trying to make spending time together less criminal and more commonplace, as two lovers should feel.

“It is your pick today, Potter. You have chosen, yes?” Boris asked, walking beside Theo. They were still in Theo’s neighborhood. Barely able to acknowledge the other existed just yet.

“I was thinking that place we had three weeks ago. I really just want an omelette I think.” Theo shrugged, stepping around the block.

Boris laughed and nudged his side, arm going around his shoulders before dropping to his waist. “So easy to please, Potter. Pick somewhere exciting! These Thursdays, they are fun, no? Meant to be extravagant! Daring!”

“I think I’ve had enough of all of that for a while.” Theo said, turning to look at Boris just barely over the top of his glasses. “They’re just supposed to be nice Thursday mornings. You know how being normal works, right, Boris?”

He scoffed. “Normal? When have we subscribe to normal?”

It was true; between the two of them, they’d done enough in their lives to be unable to step back into normal lives. At least, beyond normal on the surface. They could pretend for anyone who passed, but the truth between them was still that their childhoods had passed in a spotted haze and that their early twenties were nearly lost to a poor art deal. But they’d recovered. The painting, their lives, their money, their sanity.

Everyone was fine. Everything was back where it should have been.

“It’s a figure of speech.” Theo said, still letting himself be led by Boris down the sidewalk. “Normal.”

“I think we are normal.” Boris said nodding firmly. “Yes. We are. Two men, on four legs, healthy-- making money fist over fist!”

“It’s hand over fist.”

“Don’t care! Fist, hand, leg, foot! We’re making it and we’re happy, yes! And now we’re on the way to eat. What could be better?”

“A mimosa, probably.” Theo muttered, casting a glance to the storefronts as they passed.

Shop owners with hoses, cleaning the sidewalk; mothers with their babies trying to get rays of morning sun; children on their way to school; all impossibly bland and predictable strangers that made Theo step farther away from Boris. His arm dropped with a slap against his leg. It fell as if Theo had snapped it, cutting off all feeling from his shoulder down.

“How about coffee instead?” Boris pointed with his other hand over to a coffee cart just across the street. He reached for his wallet just as Theo reached for his arm; the guilt had gotten him before the shame had. “What? No coffee?”

“Well, no. I’ll just get some there.” Theo said quietly. “But also, I mean--” He lifted Boris’s arm as it hung lifelessly in his grasp, trying to motion it back to where it had been. “Sorry.”

“What are you doing?” Boris still hadn’t given life back to his arm. He seemed to enjoy Theo’s wordless proposal of public affection, the bastard. “Do you need itch?”

“What? No! I--I’m trying to say you can-- you know what? Forget it.” Theo sighed, lowering Boris’s arm. He rolled his eyes and let himself smile as Boris burst out in a honking laugh. He grabbed Theo again, his time his hand sitting loosely on his hip. Comfortable and nonchalant.

“So serious, Potter.” He furrowed his eyebrows and mocked Theo’s usual look of concern and anxiety. “It is too early for people to care-- too early to drink too, so twice amount not caring. Not even looking at us, Potter. Don’t be so paranoid.”

Theo couldn’t help it. Sure, the sidewalk was sparsely populated and the noise level was at a low, easy minimum, but there was still something ringing inside Theo. An alarm bell he couldn’t find or still, the metal reverberating and shaking his bones.

“I’m serious, Potter. No one around.” He leaned forward, like he was going to kiss him.

“And I’m serious, Boris.” He didn’t push Boris away, but spoke firmly, hushing his voice. “These people live near me. I see them all the time. They used to know my parents… They know clients.”

Boris nodded and leaned back, his hand still resting on Theo’s hip. His thumb moved over the roughness of his wool coat. “Okay. Okay.”

There was a moment, once the initial panic faded, that Theo wasn’t so afraid of his old and new neighbors seeing him with Boris. There was a level of sophistication to them: two grown and healthy (healthier, let’s say. Cutting down on the oceans of alcohol they’d been drinking had helped their complexions and overall youthfulness) men walking in stride together; one poised and creased to a perfect angle, polished glasses, and a new haircut; the other refusing a trim but still sleek in his all black look, trouser to sweater, even his trench coat a fierce coal black, only the buttons glinting in the morning winter sun. They were two attractive young men that looked attractive together. They looked well put together and somewhat dignified.

So what, Theo wanted to posture. So what if I’m with him? Theo felt a sort of authority in suddenly demanding the old image of him be changed; from poor helpless orphan to a grown, fruitful entrepreneur. He wanted them to notice that something new in his step: certainty.

Yeah. So fucking what.

ii.

The restaurant-- a little corner place mostly of windows with dusted periwinkle walls-- wasn’t crowded when they walked inside. A small bell on the door announced their entrance and all the waitstaff turned to acknowledge them.

“Pick your seat, we’ll be right with you, hun.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Theo started unbuttoning his coat as Boris walked ahead to pick the table.

He picked one in the center, the surrounding tables empty. “Two coffees. Please.” He held up two fingers, anticipating the waitress’s question as he shimmied his coat off. “I don’t think they have mimosa here, Potter.”

“Hm. Shame.” He placed his coat and scarf carefully over the back of the chair. “Maybe coffee is better than champagne at eleven in the morning, huh?”

“Both do the trick, we both know this.”

“What trick is that?”

“Getting us out the door for the day. Just different moods.” Boris winked, folding his hands in front of him. “One cup of coffee, we were functional, maybe a smile if we were lucky. Champagne? Hangover gone and those boring teachers, a bit funner! All the shitheads in class easier to listen to. Like changing dials on radio-- music!”

“Walden is so much better drunk.” Theo hummed, rubbing his one eye under his glasses. “Oh man, you remember Leaves of Grass?”

Boris snorted a laugh. “No!”

“Barely!” Theo agreed, shaking his head.

Laughing at pain was easier when it was closed over and finished; the desert had given them such an excuse to seek out destruction. Nothing around them could grow, so why should they? There was no need to. As hard as leaving Vegas was back then, Theo could at least acknowledge that leaving kick-started his ability to change-- at first for the worst, and then somewhat back toward the baseline for normalcy.

“Here’s two black coffees-- and some creamers.” A new woman came up swiftly, nearly singing the order, and placed the mugs down steadily in front of them. Not a drop spilled before placing a handful of creamers between them. “Alright, gentleman. What can I get for you?”

“He orders for me.” Boris volunteered, placing his menu down.

“Oh, that’s sweet.” The waitress had an unplaceable twang to her voice. It made her endearment sound only slightly pitiful, like she didn’t know what to do with herself. “I wish my husband knew me well enough to do that.”

“Husband?” Theo choked on his sip of coffee he had yet to take.

“Friends for many years, him and I. Boyhood-- idiots, mostly. Mistakes made together are twice learned, you know.” Boris steam-rolled Theo’s panic, grinning brightly as he lifted his own coffee up. He gulped it quickly, giving Theo a chance to sputter out a response.

“He’s not my husband.” Theo said sharply. No, no way. Did people like Boris get married? Well, Theo supposed, people like him would marry people like Theo-- for example. Or, more shortly, people like them married those like themselves; Theo to Boris was not much of a stretch.

“Oh.” Her name was Daisy, according to her name tag. But it could’ve been anyone’s, taken out of a bin at the start of her shift.

Introducing himself was not part of the interaction at a restaurant, but Theo knew his credit cards had his name on it-- did he have enough cash to slip away unknown?

Boris spoke loudly as he swallowed, as if talking over Theo’s thoughts. “Cannot! Need to find a uh, kościół, uh,” He waved out to Theo, knowing the word was translatable, if not only because of their long talks from years before.

“Church.” Theo relayed, blinking up at Daisy. He smiled, suddenly familiar with the art of lying, of selling a fake. “He’s very particular about what church we go to. Catholics, ya know?”

This made Daisy laugh, openly and with her hand on her stomach. The guest check and pen pressed against the waistband of her apron-- Theo only noticed then she was pregnant. A mother, warming up to strangers in the middle of her long morning shift. His smile turned genuine and he reached across the table, about to take Boris’s hand but failing half way and awkwardly taking his coffee mug again.

“So what can I get you two? Besides a good priest?”

“Ha ha.” Theo’s laugh came out calculated accidentally. He cleared his throat before he spoke again. “Uh, we’ll both have omelettes, yeah?” He looked at Boris who shrugged as if he had no say in the matter. “He’ll have… everything in it-- except mushrooms and tomatoes. And uh, I’ll just take a western. Thanks.”

“I’ll get that started for you right away.” She touched Theo’s shoulder as she passed. She scribbled hurriedly before disappearing into the kitchen. Her steps were loud and flat-footed. Theo wondered how badly her swelling feet hurt.

When Theo refocused, Boris was laughing into his coffee and finishing the cup in two strong gulps.

“What?”

“Why did you lie to her? She is no one.”

“You started!”

“Because you were about to act like we are business partners-- nothing to nobody! She would have felt embarrassed all day. She is nice lady-- beautiful and going to feed us. Why lie to her? Who is she?” Boris had far too much reason. It was kind of irritating, kind of what Theo loved about Boris. Not that he’d ever said that aloud. Still.

And with that, he changed the subject. “What else did you want to do today?”

“Today is your plan.” Boris said. He flagged down a passing waitress for more coffee.

It was well known that Boris was a fast and gluttonous eater; childhood of food insecurity led to the appearance of adult greed. Theo understood, but that day in particular, there was something unsettling in Boris already sipping his second cup of coffee. Meals weren’t set to timers, but they did have a certain flow to them. One cup per half of a meal, on a regular pace. There were social cues assigned to the timing of a meal: when to get refills, when to ask for more of something, when to decide if you wanted dessert, when to ask for the check, when to open the check. Boris gulping down his second cup put Theo behind time, stationary but rushing to catch up. There was a warning he was missing-- why was Boris going so fast? What was he ignoring--

“Potter?” Boris placed his cup down across from Theo’s hand. His finger reached across the divide to poke him gently. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You are staring at me. And not in way I like.”

“Nothing. I’m fine.” Theo shook his head and exhaled slowly. He wanted to cry, right there in the restaurant, like some kind of startled infant. Everything was shaking, but only on the inside; Theo didn’t dare make a move.

“You’re lying again.”

“I’m not!”

“Theodore.” Boris snapped, chopping off Theo’s rebuttal. It was a sign he wanted to know and wasn’t going to dance around it. He wasn’t mad, but could very well be if they wanted to play that game. Theo did not.

“Could you…” he groaned at his own request. “Could you eat a little slower? Please.”

“Why does that bother you? Another thing I do that--”

“No. It makes me feel rushed… Like I’m missing something. I-- I want to feel like I have all afternoon with you. We’re not running anywhere.” Theo sighed, meeting Boris’s gaze and watching his eyes fizzle out with a blink.

“Rushed? No, no. Did not mean-- Yes. Can eat slower. Ridiculous request, but yes. Absolutely.”

“I-I’m sorry. Just for today, I guess. I mean, I don’t want to-- I’m just feeling really--”

“Potter, relax! I said yes, right? I will try.”

A part of relationships was asking things from one another, the other part was willingness to do them. As their plates were placed in front of them minutes later, Theo sat wondering what he’d agreed them to.

Leaving Boris was never an option as it was, even back in Vegas, it had just been the desperate choice made, as he felt, for Theo. He would’ve never left if he thought there was another way, he would’ve waited, he would’ve kissed back. Being reunited with Boris-- somehow safer and more sound than in the Netherlands-- was the only path Theo would consider for the future. He never truly gave much thought for The Future as it hurtled toward him, but he knew that it had to have Boris in it for it to have any clarity whatsoever.

With that said, was that the basis of a relationship? Codependency? Maybe that was just loyalty to them by that point. They’d traded enough secrets and drugs to know the other beyond the bounds of friendship-- and definitely beyond the comforts of using the word brotherhood.

What was the word, then? Dating? No. It wasn’t a trial period. Married? Even without the legal fanfare, it didn’t seem right. Theo had dodged one engagement, and watched enough marriages topple after being built on faulty foundations, to begin questioning its integrity. What was Theo talking himself into suddenly? What union was he suggesting they’d become?

And worse, what was Boris agreeing to, picking up his fork like it was an instrument, careful but steady as he got ready to eat. He waited for Theo.

“Sto lat.” Theo muttered, lifting a piece of toast to Boris.

“To us.” He reached over and took the corner piece off of Theo’s toast. He popped it in his mouth with a wink.

iii.

They ate quietly, starting conversations before bites and letting them die while they chewed. It was incoherent at best, but the listening was innate. Theo nodded and hummed in acknowledgement as Boris tried speaking around his food-- still horrible with table manners but at least eating at the pace of a regular human being. He folded to Theo’s request, little argument and no bite. It was kind, but Theo couldn’t help itching to know what Boris would want from him.

“I’ll take the check, please.” Theo said to Daisy quietly, touching her elbow as she walked past. “When you get a second.”

“Of course! Did he like what you ordered?” She grinned, tearing a check out of her book.

“I heard no complaints.” There would never be a complaint over food. It was their common point; if either of them offered food as a meeting place, they’d gobble it up passing bread and wine and laughter.

“Delicious, very much so.” Boris chimed in, placing his napkin down. Wait, napkin. Theo eyed it curiously as the check was slipped into his hand. Boris really was putting the husband act on thick; it didn’t appear too artificial.

“Thank you for humoring me; our meal was an hour and a half.” Theo noted, checking his watch as he opened his wallet. He hovered over his cards before grabbing cash. Anonymity in at least name only. He gave her twice the gratuity tip, tucking all the bills around the check before pushing his chair back.

“Humor? Yes. I did have fun.” Boris pushed himself back and whipped on his coat in one swift motion. His coattails swung out and grazed over the chairs behind him. His front pocket hung heavy, Theo not knowing what was resting inside until they got outside.

On their way out, Theo thanked Daisy quickly and sincerely. He patted her arm and congratulated her-- softly, of course, in case it wasn’t public news. She grinned and waved them both out. She told Theo where he could find accepting clergy in town.

Theo let the door sink closed behind him, the muffled bell ringing inside. Boris produced a cigarette from his front pocket and started down the sidewalk. He held it unlit between his lips as he clicked his lighter unsuccessfully. Theo never carried one, not in his good coat at least. Imagine the look: an antiquesman with a BIC lighter? More like: unemployed.

“Where to now?”

“Uh, I don’t know.” Theo confessed, looking up and down the street. He was trying to guess where the city could house them. At least for the afternoon. On Thursdays, everything felt too committal, too ingrained in their routine to risk being seen. Theo couldn’t cut his usual business spots out if they disapproved of his company. “Oh, how about a movie?” They were safe. Darkness usually was.

“What is playing?”

“I think some slasher, a romcom or something, and that eighties re-release.” Theo recalled, having somehow remembered from the paper that morning.

“How about: re-release and I get pop-corn.” Boris finally caught a light, taking in a long inhale. Since coming back to the states, Boris changed his usual brand. They were stronger smelling, and lasted longer. The stale and thick smell hanging around Boris’s mouth longer, clinging to his hair for just a fraction more than it took to put the end out.

“I’m not really hungry after that.” Theo said, placing a hand on his chest.

“Not say it was for you.” Boris tisked, holding the cigarette out for Theo to take. “So greedy.”

“Is that what you ask of me?” Theo asked, still calculating. “Not to take your food?”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Just talking shit.” Theo said, hissing the smoke out in a sidestream, away from Boris. The taste was near tangible, his tongue going over his top teeth as he passed the cigarette back. He didn’t look at Boris, knowing he’d give something away. Something else away.

A cab would have been easier, but Boris insisted on walking. Can’t smoke in a cab, he’d correctly insisted. Going through three cigarettes between the two of them proved Boris’s insistence to be reasonable. Theo puffed them down the quickest, taking long, deep breaths every time. Boris seemed surprised each time the filter would be passed back to him.

Walking wasn't the problem. It was watching the flags in the windows change from countries and sports teams to ones of rainbow variety. The Quad was in the Village, the two of them stepping right into the quiet corner of the city Theo always felt off visiting. He wanted to stare, as if to say, hey, me too. But always stared at his shoes instead, accidentally saying, i don’t want to see you or be seen by you. It was a difficult line to cross-- one of solidarity to bigotry-- but Theo knew it well. The two sides were miles apart but each step wobbled between the other.

Theo wasn’t sure what he thought of rainbow flags. If he should want one or even feel some kind of kinship with it.

Boris must’ve caught him staring.

“You want one?” He pointed openly to the large flag hanging outside of an apartment complex; safe-space housing for all couples and families.

“No.”

“Why not? You keep staring! On way home, we stop. Get you one. Hang it over your desk-- with all your boring fucking papers-- will look nice! Come on, Potter. I’ll get it for you-- or just take it from the building myself.” Boris nudged Theo’s side, his hand grabbing Theo’s forearm briefly; his hands were stuffed in his pockets.

“No! I don’t want one.” Theo hissed. “What about you? Why don’t you get one?”

“Am not gay, is why.” Boris said without surprise or elaboration. It was the first they’d ever truly discussed the topic. It was obvious where their sexualities overlapped, but it was clear to Theo that Boris, while his only at the moment, wouldn’t have been his only male partner.

“Consider me lost.” Theo said. This was definitely it, what Boris was going to ask for: for Theo to not let his inability to love anyone else overshadow the fact that Theo was Boris’s lucky strike, his one in a million, the only man he’d sleep with because he was in between girlfriends.

Theo held his breath and tried to act casual. He reached out of his pocket and into Boris’s for another cigarette. It forced him to breathe.

“Am beyond-- word is so small. Limiting to whole picture. God, or whatever have out there. Am not one word. If I do everything with love, why pick one kind of person. Love is for all, no?”

“I guess.”

Oh god, Theo huffed and tried to pretend the smoke was burning his eyes. Was he limiting to Boris? Was he putting too much weight in what was just finding happiness? Wasn’t it supposed to be ephemeral. Wasn’t that what made happiness so grand in the first place; it could come and go as it pleased. It had no master and no control, opposing the moon and the tides.

It was fine if Boris didn’t think of himself as gay, that wasn’t any of Theo’s business, but it mattered if Boris thought of their… whatever it was as casually as he thought of passing kindness and love onto strangers. Boris was a very open person generally-- but loving? No. That was supposed to be for Theo, or at least he so selfishly thought.

iv.

In the dark of the movie, some synth tune playing from the speakers and laughter bubbling up from the seats, Boris grabbed Theo’s hand. The tips of his fingers were greasy and pricked with granules of salt. It was almost as if he’d gotten the impulse to grab him, unable to wipe his hands and waste another second. It wasn’t the truth, but the thought moved Theo near tears. A burden couldn’t do that, could he?

“Hey.” Theo whispered.

“Yeah?” Boris moved his hair away from his ear, leaning closer.

It was dark. No one would see them. The seats were tall and the rows were short. They were in the Village for fuck’s sake.

“Nevermind. I’ll tell you later.” Theo muttered, squeezing Boris’s hand. “Not important.”

“I think I should head back home.” Theo said, turning is collar up against the sudden dusk wind.

They’d found a strip of stores they’d never seen before after the movie, winding in and out of aisles, pretending they’d never touched the other before. Theo was startled every time Boris’s hand found its way onto his back. It was closing in on dinnertime and Theo was getting hungry. There was something leftover in Hobbie’s fridge, there always was.

“Come back with me-- I’m closer!” Boris pointed in the zigzagging directions they’d need to walk to reach his apartment. “I even get you cab if your feet are tired. Here, let me--”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll just go home, Boris. Really.” Theo had convinced himself that Boris was just being polite in his invitation. “I’ll see you later.”

“Theo, stay.” Boris swept forward and grabbed Theo’s hand, keeping him from stepping onto the crosswalk. A stream of people pushed past them, shouldering Theo’s stationary figure. “Let me order food on walk there. Pick it up before we go up-- fastest restaurant on the block. Trust me. Really really good-- authentic too. Chinese guys, family recipes. To die for. Here, look, I call right now.”

Before Theo could twist his hand out of Boris’s grasp, the phone was lifted to his ear. He ordered quickly, barely in English, before tapping off the call and slipping his phone in with his lighter and near-empty box of cigarettes.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Is already done. Let’s go. Do you want car or to walk? I think car, you’ve been walking all day. God, wish I still had my driver. We’d already be on the couch by now. No, we find taxi. Get you off your feet. Long day of critiquing, Potter.” Boris said with a laugh, walking up to the edge of the curb-- nearly off of it-- as he summoned a passing cab to him. He hadn’t let go of Theo’s hand.

“That flea market was reselling stuff from Pottery Barn.” Theo said in defense.

“‘Is not worn correctly! Too even, too fine!’ hilarious how much there is to know! And yet, Potter, you know all of it.” Boris opened the door for him. He lifted their hands, like Theo was a woman in tall heels in danger of falling as he sat down in the back.

“It’s my job to know.”

“This is true. It is. To know very much about so little.” Boris climbed in beside him, slamming the door.

The driver was looking at them through the rear view mirror. His eyes hovered downward before going back to Theo’s, eyebrows lifted.

“Uh, not me.” Theo sputtered, pointing at Boris. The address, the physical name and number of it, slipped his mind. It was just muscle memory; a North Star if Theo ever believe in it.

“Is my place.” Boris said, remembering his end of the transaction. He recounted his address, patting the back of the driver’s seat goodnaturedly before doing the same to the top of Theo’s hand. He still hadn’t let go.

“Isn’t it a bit early to be turning in, fellas?” The driver had a deep voice, but spoke kindly-- and drove like a bit of a maniac.

“Been out all day! Breakfast, movie, shopping-- god! Walking, walking, walking.”

Theo hated that he didn’t name their activity as just walking. No, it had to be shopping. Shopping sounded so feminine and suburban. They were grown men with multiple commas to their savings accounts. They didn’t shop. They went and they bought, otherwise they were just perusing. He twisted his hand in Boris’s, a small warning he was growing uncomfortable. Claustrophobic in his own skin; so little places to go.

“I don’t see any bags. Nothing to your liking?” The driver asked. Theo didn’t like the tone. They didn’t have ridiculous taste just because they were two men. No, their high taste was because of how sticky their fingers got around fine art and antiques, but that wasn’t always a welcome rebuttal.

“No. Friend here knows too much to be swindled by Potpourri Barn!”

“Pottery Barn, Boris.” Theo corrected softly. God, he sounded like a nagging wife.

“Yes! The Barn! All not old-- but they say it was! Lying to our faces! HA, if they only knew.”

“That’s New York for you.” The driver laughed. “How long you two in town? Week-long getaway? Honeymoon?”

“We both live here.” Theo cut in. “We’re from… Well, I’m from here.” After opening his mouth, there was no way to convince anyone that Boris was from Manhattan. “We’re not on vacation.”

“Oh, sorry. Nothing against you, just seems like a lot for locals.”

“We had a day. Two of us.”

“Boris, shut up.” Theo hissed, yanking his hand like rope to a curtain. Cut the show, he’d seen enough.

“What? We can small talk, can we not? There will be traffic-- can not spend it in silence.”

Boris really did everything with love, in some weird way, didn’t he? Sure, etiquette wasn’t the first thing on his mind, but he was a people person; making even the most benign interactions for a New Yorker enjoyable. He wasn’t going to make their driver sit in awkward silence while they did the same in the back.

“Am I stealing his attention away?” The driver was teasing Theo now, casting a glance up at him despite swerving the car into another lane. “I can let you two talk."

“No, I didn’t mean it like that.” Now Theo just looked rude.

“It’s okay! I get like that with my boyfriend all the time. I understand.”

“Boyfriend! You have one. Tell me. Better than sun on Earth?” Boris cheered, resting their laced fingers in his lap.

“Of course.”

“Ah, so there is two.” Boris added with a chuckle, stealing a look at Theo.

The sweet sentence soured within Theo. The alarm was going off, but there was nowhere for the sound to go. The walls were close together-- skin tight-- and the echo began throbbing in Theo’s ears. Who was this man? How did they know he was okay to trust? Who else did he know that he’d start blabbing too-- Oh I had these gay guys in my cab last week. One looked like a sheep dog and the other, man, like a male Velma Dinkley or something. Wait? Yeah! Do you know ‘em? No shit! I had no idea. Well, let me tell you--

“--Potter, he is talking to you.”

“Huh? What?” Theo gasped, sitting up again. He still hadn’t let go of Boris’s hand. “Sorry.”

“I just asked what you have against Pottery Barn. Your husband says you were reaming them out while you guys were shopping. What gives?”

“Uh,” Theo wasn’t going to correct someone for the second time that day. “It’s given forced character. It doesn’t have any life to it. You can’t fake that on furniture; it makes the room feel stiff rather than inviting.”

“Oh, wow.” The driver mulled the sentence over. “Into interior design?”

Theo clenched his teeth, trying not to be offended or feel cornered. It was a fair question. He had opinions about room character. He sounded like a gay interior designer. No big deal.

“I deal antiques.” Theo said, voice tight. That wasn’t any better.

“Oh! Well, that makes a lot more sense. Bet you two’s house looks great.” He made his last turn, Boris’s place just straight ahead after a bit.

“Oh no.” Boris said, his hand tightening on Theo’s. He was trying to hold the alarm still. “We do not live together.”

“Oh no?” The driver acted as if he had a say in this matter.

“No.” Boris answered. “Do not.”

Theo’s narrow focus missed all disappointment in Boris’s voice and went instead for the firmness in it. It sounded like a rule: no, we don’t live together. That’s not allowed, not necessary.

It made sense to Theo, if he put his mind (falsely) to it, what good was sharing yourself if you had to share your space too? What was your own after a while?

And here, Theo was hoping he’d have nothing left that wasn’t Boris’s.

vi.

Straight out of the cab, Boris dropped Theo’s hand if only to have both free to carry their food. It was only a block down and around, stories of the taste and delicious flavorful smells-- the smells, Potter, the smell sneaks up at you at night. Can smell it rooms away. So tempting all hours-- spilling out of Boris’s lips. It was easy to stay silent and try to process their cab ride.

For about forty minutes, Theo had been out. Completely and casually. Fully and stupidly. Blindly and happily. Boris didn’t seem to mind the momentous change, chattering relentlessly until Theo was all but pushing him out of the backseat. It hadn’t harmed Theo at all, but he still felt unsettled. It left him wanting to be close with Boris again-- why did he have to drop my hand-- but extra aware of how easy it was to spot them. Two men, easily mislabeled as husbands.

Theo left a considerable distance between them as he followed Boris up the stairs to his apartment. To anyone they passed, he tried to look like an unwilling participant in their conversation. By the time Theo finally got inside, Boris was already setting out their cartons and pulling out a chair for Theo. He took the other rickety metal chair across the table. It was stolen from an old diner or something, Theo was sure. The vinyl had been sun-beaten into a rosey salmon from its original cherry red.

“Come on, take a seat. Take off your coat-- shoes too, what are you thinking of taking off running? Sit with me, Potter. You’ve got to be starving. I’m beat. So hungry. Ready to eat everything in sight. You’ve got to be hungry.” He pointed his chopsticks at the empty seat.

“I still have to go home, remember?” Theo said, keeping his shoes on. “I can’t sleep over again.”

“And why not?” Boris seemed to argue more strongly when he was chewing.

“I never stay two nights.” Theo wasn’t sure if Boris had noticed their strangely unspoken rule, but it was true. They always either alternated or went their separate ways.

“Bullshit! Stay again! My place was closer so we came back here-- stay! Come on, sit down and eat with me. It’s food. No complaints.”

“No, really, I should get back.” Theo rubbed a hand over his face- the one that had been holding Boris’s hand not five minutes before. He could still smell the nicotine and popcorn butter. “I’m sorry to make you get all this food.”

“Theo! Wait!” Boris was scrambling out of his chair. “Not before I speak.” Theo had barely even turned away. Someone new was on the defensive. His eyes were wide as if he was moments from hitting a high, but his eyebrows were furrowed with fear.

Theo had already asked something of Boris that day, but he wished he had saved it to simply be: just fucking say it. End it already.

“I have to get home, Boris.”

“This. This is your home. Can be!” He said, slipping his hands under the shoulders of Theo’s coat. In Theo’s disarmament, he pushed the lapel back and down his arms. “If not, make it so. Put your things next to mine, move the bed, buy paint-- whatever you need. Stay here, with me. Sleepovers are not for grown men, Theo. They are not for us. Men own homes. Two men, yes, two men can own one home. Well, apartment, better word. But own, we can! Together, like old times, practically splitting imaginary rent in father’s house!”

This, and only this, was what Boris was asking of Theo: to live with him. And Theo had all the willingness to do so.

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” The idea seemed preposterous.

“I am. Other key is being made as we speak and-- and I want you to stay. I don’t like the look you get on your face when you talk about taking the ride back to yours. Face gets so long, Potter, I hate it. Makes me want to ride with you, only to make you drive all the way back with me-- we’d live together in the cars between doorsteps! Unable to say goodbye.” Just like old times. “But now we don’t have to! I come home-- ah-ha! You’re here! You come home, hooray, so am I!”

“Boris, this is crazy.”

“Look back at our lives and say that? How can you?” He laughed heartily, still undressing Theo of his outerwear. “We’ve shared the bed in your dad’s house more than we have here. What’s the no for?”

“Are you sure? You want me to live here?”

“I asked, didn’t I?” Boris exclaimed, waving his hands out. The space was his-- theirs. “Live with me, Theo. Stay here. Share with me-- the house, the bed, the food--”

“The rent.” Theo added.

“Hush hush. Missing the point, as always.” Boris cupped his face, as if forcing him to nod. “Do it, yes?”

“Y-Yeah. Okay.” Theo held his wrists, thumbs resting against the back of Boris’s hands. “Okay! Yes, I’ll stay.”

“Perfect! He says yes! He agrees with me!” Boris cried, bringing Theo forward quickly. They kissed and Theo’s glasses are only a little dislodged. “We must celebrate! I think I have some wine-- something in the cupboard! Saved for this very moment!”

“No, no, Boris that’s alright.” Theo would have loved a glass-- or maybe five-- of whatever year Boris somehow always had on tap, but it felt like a recreation. They were sharing the same space again and suddenly slipping down the slope into getting blacked out? No. Maybe not the best idea. “The food is enough. Let me share this with you-- We won’t even use plates. We’ll pass the cartons back and forth on the couch, like we used to when we were in my dad’s house.”

Boris looked touched. He kissed Theo again, softly and with the intent of getting Theo’s rigid posture to melt. It worked.

vii.

On the couch, shoes off and coat still on the ground, Theo rested his head on Boris’s lap. His body stretched out over the other half of the couch, feet over the armrest, while his head was turned to the side, watching the quiet TV program that was on. Theo wasn’t paying attention and he also wasn’t sure if it was in English. He’d finished eating then, but before had a pillow propping his neck up so he didn’t choke in his horizontal dining position. Boris though, was still picking at their carton of lo mein, intermittently resting it on Theo’s chest as he stopped to change the channel or mindlessly move Theo’s glasses up and down on his face, smudging them horrifically. Theo threatened hollowly that if he got any food on him, he’d strangle Boris himself. Boris laughed and poked Theo’s glasses with a greasy finger.

“Asshole.” He mumbled, scrunching his nose to look under the lenses at Boris.

Theo was so full and had such aching bones, as Boris finally replaced the carton with his hand resting on Theo’s chest, he couldn’t help but start to nod off. His breathing became slow and dreamy, his blinking languid and promising.

“Tired, Potter?”

“Not that much. I’m just listening to the TV.” It definitely wasn’t in English.

“Want me to turn it off?” Boris offered. “Or how about change? This making you sleepy?”

“No. No, it’s not.” Theo was half lying. He wasn’t sure how effective it would have been if it was in a language he understood.

“Here, I put on-- Uh, here! Jeopardy! The ‘what is’ show!” Boris pronounced it Jep-ar-dy, clicking the remote quickly. “Here, answer with me. I bet you all-- double, truly!”

“You can’t bet if you don’t get any of the questions right.” Theo said, blinking himself back to consciousness. Alex Trebek’s voice struck him back awake and to where he was. It rattled him, and his alarm.

He remembered watching the show with his mother, even having it on in the background of days in his father’s house. It was a grounding host of sounds-- the timer, the buzzer, the Daily Double chime. It was a show that could be found in every household, every normal family, and here it was entertaining two grown men that were all but-- dare he say it-- married?

That child that used to watch Jeopardy, shouting all the answers and tallying his humble imaginary winnings, was still lying on their couch. His head was resting in Boris’s lap, letting a hand rest on his forehead and ground him in comfort. For a moment, that child was disgusted. His curdling instinct to run struck up inside of Theo and he lurched upright. Boris’s arms lifted in alarm, trying not to accidentally strike him.

That child wasn’t sure when he’d gotten so comfortable being something no one knew about. The apartment was their secret, and so were the memories they were making around the common game show. Theo was a liar in the dark: even when no one was looking. There were people in his life, alive and dead, that would never know this part of him, and he wasn’t sure if that meant it was okay to submit to.

“Potter, what’s wrong?” Boris squinted and reached for Theo’s glasses. He polished them as Theo suffocated the words a younger him would’ve said: god, what are we doing? being fuckin’ girls, staying in and watching TV? god, lets see what Xandra’s hiding and--

“I think I’m going to get ready for bed.” Theo stood, wobbling without his depth perception. Boris held the glasses out as he turned the TV off. “You don’t have to get up. I think I’m just-- I think you’re right. I’m tired.”

“Be in anyway. Five minutes! Can’t play Jeopardy myself-- that’s pointless gambling. Money and bragging rights, that’s always a plus. Can’t brag if you’re the house too!” Boris clapped his hands against his legs before he stood. “Want a smoke?”

Yes yes yes. Yes. “No.”

Theo turned away from Boris’s tisk, going down the thin hallway to the back bedroom. It was poorly lit and even more sorely decorated: dark plum wallpaper, peeling at the seams by the windows, where sticky city summers had taken it victim; a dark oak bed frame bought at a hefty discount because the posts were built too short to look correct when wrapped in canopy, which Boris’s never was; and scratchy blankets that sat on top of simple cotton sheets. There was one dresser, five drawers tall, that had a wood grain that didn’t match the bed or any of the other furniture, and held all of Boris’s belongings-- and still had empty space. Theo wouldn’t have to ask Boris to make any room. He already fit in.

Through the bedroom was the ensuite bathroom, complete with all leaky fixtures and a semi-moldy shower curtain. Theo started the sink, its faucet spitting up thick droplets of water onto his cuffs before starting a slow stream down the side and into the basin. He splashed cold water against his face, nearly forgetting to take his glasses off. His mind began racing, trying to find a way to cover up what he’d done-- but first, he couldn’t seem to place what wrong he’d committed.

He’d felt the same crumpling fear years before, lying flat on his back in Vegas with Boris over him. His hands pressed into the bed on either side of his shoulders, hair framing his face like a waterfall. Boris’s lips were parted and sending his heavy breathing out in rounded gusts; Theo could feel it against his cheeks.

“Are you scared?” Boris asked. He had hope in his voice for a certain answer.

“Yes.” Theo didn’t know what it’d mean, once they’d done It. He was already calculating ways to erase actions he had yet to do. It was like an accidental spill he’d have to pull rugs and tear carpet to cover up in a heated panic-- but he was standing there, waiting to tip the cup. “Yes.”

“Don’t be. Is just me. You know me.”

Sputtering against the cold, Theo knew Boris had been right then and still was. Their shared memories had practically formed a shared consciousness, the two of them taking the same steps, mistakes or not, together; walking in and out of trouble like a waltz. Two people peeled apart at the seam-- at the soul-- and placed on two sides of the country with a timer ticking. Just like a bomb-- the bomb-- maybe.

The towels were like wool as Theo wiped his face, still exhaling strongly. He tossed the towel back on the edge of the sink and began unbuttoning his shirt. He hadn’t grabbed any of his other clothes and had to sleep in just his underwear. He could have borrowed some of Boris’s clothes, but that wasn’t the right cover-up for the situation; that was like pouring red wine to extinguish a fire burning on white carpet.

Not a minute after Theo relaxed into the mattress, his lower back cracking and neck aching at the stretch, the bedroom door opened and Boris came in-- loudly and without much apologies. He knew Theo would still be awake, truthfully.

Boris didn't even reach the dresser; he undressed quickly, dropping his clothes where he stood before sliding under the covers. Theo seized up, if only for a moment at the new warmth beside him. It was practically white hot, rough but like velvet at the same time.

It had been a long day, tugging and pulling away but never knowing what was the better choice. Theo ached all over, but maybe it was for something. For someone. A chance to stop, to settle.

Are you scared?

No.

“Hey.” Theo started carefully, turning over in bed and moving his glasses back on the bridge of his nose.

“Hello.” Boris said with a stupidly happy grin. He spoke formally, if only because Theo always had the habit of doing so when they were that close together. When things had the possibility of getting more intimate.

“Thanks for letting me stay over.”

“I told you. It’s your house now too.” Boris said, holding his arms up to the room. “A man doesn’t have to thank anyone in his own house.”

Theo reached up and grabbed one of Boris’s hands, pulling it down and resting it on his face, careful and calculated. “Borya.” He said. “Thank you.”

“Borya?” Boris repeated, making sure he’d heard Theo correctly. The name was rare and saved for special moments between them; when Theo was haunted by his own buried hatred and repressed desires, and unable to say what he wanted to say, or even initiate what he loved doing with Boris. It was the one-word go ahead for Boris to remind him he had nothing to be ashamed of. “Yes?”

“Yeah.” It was an exhale, forcing himself to go limp and ignore his own panic.

In all honesty, kissing was still very strange to Theo. He could never get out of his head long enough to enjoy it fully. There was too much movement to consider-- while also not a whole lot either. It was like moving cups for a magic trick; there were only so many things he could do without just going completely off-script, and simply being a very bad magician and kisser. Which he constantly thought he was, only to be assured later he wasn’t. Which could be one of the many lies Boris had gotten very good at telling in his growing wisdom and honest swindling.

“You’re stiff, Theo. Is okay.” Boris muttered, hand still cupping his cheek. Theo envied Boris’s ability to cut off any cautious, self-conscious thoughts to his brain. In a matter of moments after Theo’s blushing admittance of wanting to be close with him, Boris was rolling over to brace his weight just over Theo’s chest, slowly pushing him back onto the pillows. “If you want no more just tell me.”

“I’m okay.” Theo hated how unsure he acted despite knowing he wanted to be kissing Boris, holding and touching him, just being with him. No matter how much he knew he’d want to-- in the private freedom of his own thoughts-- when it came to admitting it aloud, to being heard by another person to be wanting those things, even possibly embarrassing himself by saying the wrong things, it was too much. Theo would cower away and be thought to be uninterested. Borya was his way of inching closer while having Boris do most of the moving.

“You look so handsome.” Boris said, smoothing back Theo’s hair. He was really big with compliments. Not only was Boris big with talking in general, he also really liked to believe it helped get Theo talking too. It was yet to do that, but it was still nice that Boris kept it up. “Can I take your specs? I put them aside. Usual place.”

“Y-Yeah. Here.” Theo held his glasses up and squinted into the dark shadows of the room as Boris’s shape moved toward his night stand. It was dark and his vision wasn’t entirely necessary, but it was a comfort, to know exactly where and what he was doing. Not that it mattered-- he was always clueless somehow.

The first time they had sex as sober consenting adults, it was an embarrassing sideshow event. Boris was kind and told Theo how great it was-- so much better than being stupid kids fooling around in their grimy parents’ bathrooms-- but Theo knew it was a disappointing attempt. He’d been silent the entire time, rigid as a board, and kept his arms frozen by his sides. He’d been too horrified by his own delight to speak any man’s name. It was in the last shaky moments of consciousness that Theo began shaking his head. It was intended to stop his own wave of guilt from drowning him, but it ended up startling Boris and getting him to come to a sudden and untimely halt right as Theo was one last deep breath from tumbling over the edge.

He was so embarrassed, he never again brought the idea up, no matter how much he’d wanted to try it once more.

It had been at least six months since then, and Theo was still trying to get better at acknowledging his own comfort, but it was still a daily frustration. There was no one else around, but somehow, Theo couldn’t stop thinking of how he sounded to everyone else. Despite it only being Boris, his Boris, the boy who knew every secret and kept it close and personal. He could trust Boris to die for him-- nearly did-- and still, somehow, his opinion of him scared Theo to no end.

Theo remained silent, much to his own dismay. He was able to bubble up a few sounds-- a hum of agreement, short and staccato; a short hiss that definitely could have been a ‘yes’ if misheard correctly; and a moan that finally broke his mold and had his hands grabbing for Boris’s shoulders as Boris’s one arm tightened around his hips and lower back, and pulled him closer. Boris laughed, not at him, but as his only way to smile wider than he already was. His kisses were lop-sided and off-center from his giggling, slowly infectious and comforting.

By the time Boris was back to full sentences-- at the same time Theo was not-- neither could stop themselves from laughing. They were sitting up, legs overlapping hips and facing opposite directions, Boris’s hands bracing Theo’s back for touch and to keep him from toppling over. Theo was a mess-- hiccuping and giggling and sobbing and snorting. Boris was no better, trying to speak in smooth suave sentences while his crooked smile bared his new, perfect teeth and silenced his coherence.

There was only one exchange, gasped between fits of laughter:

Boris--

Yes? Yes, what? I’m here.

God-- Boris--

Yes. Yes. I know.

Fuck… Boris, Fuck.

Shhh, Theo. You’re okay.

Boris never asked questions-- never tried to instigate Theo or get him to answer during a time he was seconds from collapsing and crumpling-- but instead just listened to Theo, agreeing with his fragmented expletives and constant reminders that he was with the only person he trusted. Hearing that same, slanted voice from beyond Theo’s star-spotted vision after grappling for it in the fog of his fears was a secret rush, a safety Theo couldn’t get enough of.

In the hanging silence afterward, Theo always felt the most self-conscious. He hated how he began to re-feel every part of his body. How now it only felt attached to him and no one else. It was easy to feel ugly that way, to feel embarrassed about letting himself get thrown apart so so easily.

Boris didn’t speak a word. His hands eased Theo back down, letting him lay down before he readjusted and moved to find comfort beside him. Theo listened to their heavy breathing and began to feel like there was panic in Boris’s cadence. It was fast, like he’d been running-- and trying to run faster. The alarm began ringing again, Theo’s bones still fragile and the ringing sending shock waves up to his chest. He gasped, already feeling like his chest was filled with air.

Theo still couldn’t see with full clarity, his hands having to reach out to find Boris’s chest in the dim shadows.

“Why are you breathing like that? Are you mad or something?”

“What? No! No, Theo, I must catch breath.” He laughed again, his chest caving harshly almost in a cough. Oh.

“Y-You’re still catching your-- laughing. That’s it.” Theo exhaled and thought all his bones would turn to liquid as he blinked.

“Yes! Yes! I find you happy-- not funny, nothing to laugh at, no no. But something so happy, it comes from me. Deep in my stomach; just want to laugh when I see you sometimes. Idiots! The both of us! But, still, somehow here together! A plan set by something greater, I know this.”

“Sure.” Theo reached for his glasses with his other hand. He took another deep breath, strictly because he could now.

“You are okay?” Boris placed his hand over Theo’s on his chest.

“Of course I am.” Theo tried to sound flirtatious, like what they had just done wasn’t already trying to be forced down down down and away from his mind-- God, what would everyone think if they knew that-- he was unsuccessful and sounded only half convinced. Boris curled his fingers around Theo’s hand, a panic of his own. “No, really. Yeah. I, uh… I loved it. I--” Theo huffed. “I love you.”

Boris clicked his tongue and rolled onto his side, facing Theo. “Is that what you were trying to say the whole time? The theatrics! ‘Boris! Boris! Oh Boris!’ was that it?”

“Fuck off.” Theo pushed Boris lightly on the shoulder. He was waiting, the time scraping by. Each second seemed to be trying to build to some greater rejection.

But, of course, Boris would never: “Love you too, Potter. ‘Course I do. Would not go through hell for anyone else. My little ptaszyna.”

Theo could feel his entire body again, his legs still slightly quivering and back arching as he shifted. He still felt unsettled and like he’d done something unforgivable, but he kept breathing and listening to Boris breathe. In a small, guiltful reminder, no one knew but them. Theo had disappeared from all but four people’s lives to make sure he could more securely establish himself where he wanted to be. Although, that had very little to do with getting a new address and all to do with the man laying beside him, whispering an old evening comfort: is just me, Potter. Is just me.

#theo and boris #boreo #theo decker #boris pavlikovsky #the goldfinch fic #the goldfinch

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orangeblossomstudies · 6 years ago

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First off, I just want to say thank you to everyone who is giving this series love and support! It means a lot to me to see people reblogging and tagging it as useful information. That just really makes my day! Now, without further ado:

Part 3 in Surviving University (and other not so fun but important things)

Here I am going to go over how I both prepare for and partake in class lectures. Enjoy!

Part 1

Part 2

RE: College can be a trip sometimes so, seeing as I’m going into my third year, I think I have enough background to put together a list of tricks and habits that have both helped/hurt me in the long run. I struggled really really hard when transitioning from high school to college because I have severe social/general anxiety and am not good at dealing with new situations. My grades reflected that for my first semester, but I learned fast and am now going strong!

note: not all of these may apply to you and your university as every place is different! Despite this, if you are an incoming first year or struggling college student, I hope at least one of these tips help you!

Lectures (in general)

This is mainly for the Freshman audience!

Raising your hand to go to the bathroom is something that doesn't really happen in college.

it might seem polite but you're not a child anymore and you don't have to ask to go relieve yourself. No one can stop you. It is wise, however, to understand your surroundings. If you are in a small classroom setting (like you were probably used to in high school) then waiting for a pause in the lecture before getting up is polite and looked kindly on. If you are in a large lecture hall with hundreds of others, you can get up at any time, walk outside, do whatever the hell you want and come back in and no one gives a rat’s ass how long you were gone.

you also don’t have to bring your stuff with you if you plan on coming back. You can just ask the person next to you if they can watch your stuff (I do this all the time) and you’ll be fine (I mean, as long as you’re not leaving a wad of cash or something on your desk. Someone might take that lol)

No one cares that you’re wearing pajamas. It's your life, do whatever the hell you want. Unless you plan to go talk to your favorite teacher about a possible reference for a job or something important where appearances matter, you can wear anything. Not gonna lie, I've seen my fair share of butt cheeks in too-short shorts and muscle tees that are seriously low cut (not that I mind~), but at the end of the day it's college and you’re an adult. What outward image you want to display is totally up to you and they can't do shit about it (unless you’re literally in your underwear or something totally obscene like that, which is, yes, illegal). But seriously, you can get away with a lot.

As a sub-note, I personally live in Florida where it's hot, like really hot, and the humidity is most often at 100% so these “underdressed” occurrences are not uncommon. If you live under similar conditions where most people strip to fight the heat I'd give one fair warning: the AC is no. joke. You might end up freezing your ass off no matter how hot it is outside because the majority of the day you aren't in the sun—you're in a classroom that's blasting an AC that no one ever touches. I usually opt for a t-shirt under a flannel or some other type of over-shirt that can be taken on and off when needed. Find what works for you.

If you want to skip a class, pick the second meeting (this means if it’s a M/W class, skip Wednesday). Yes, I know. You're condoning skipping class? Yup. I am. But there are rules. First, you need to make sure you are confident in the subject. For me, that means English classes. That's my forte and that's what I'm focused on, so I feel comfortable skipping a class or two when I need to study for one of my more difficult subjects or when I feel I just can't sit in four classes that day. The second rule is to make sure you aren't actually missing anything like a quiz, or project overview that is going to be delivered that day. Lord knows you can't make that shit up (many times even if you have a legit excuse). Anyways, many classes have a set number of absences you can have (mine are usually 4 tops--unexcused and excused). Figure out how this may work for you.

I don't get sick but once every two to three years, so I can divvy out my skips easily, but for some people, they need to take certain things into consideration. I'd advise you leave an absence (or two) for a situation that might not be under your control. If someone in the family dies or you need to go to the hospital for some unspeakable reason, you don't want to have to be worrying about failing a class by being there. Understanding your personal situation is key to making this work without ruining your college career.

Deciding if you can arrive late is very circumstantial depending on your professor, yourself, the weather...it's a bit of a wobbly situation. I personally like to get to class 10 to 15 minutes early as I hate rushing and the thought of standing at the front and trying to find a seat while half a class is already there (despite the fact that they probably don’t even care) literally makes me want to hurl. Often times, the teacher will only arrive just as the class should be starting (or later). Yeah, as you can see lots of factors go towards whether it's a good idea to be late, so just analyze and make a decision (better late than never anyone?)

If it's a small classroom setting, again, it's usually a good idea to apologize quietly and take a seat quickly.

Sit wherever you’re comfortable. I see many people suggesting sitting up front, but everyone works differently. I personally prefer the front as it is easier for me to partake in class discussion (I feel pressured when I can see people turn around to look at me) and I don’t have to strain to see. Some people like the back where they can see the whole room and fidget without feeling like they are distracting other people. Some people don’t care.

No there aren’t assigned seats in college, but after a few days, seats might as well be. People tend to sit where they are at the beginning of the year the same as at the end of the year (give or take a few days where you’re later than usual). This is most probably due to the fact that students rely on people in their proper seats to help them find their seat quicker. Even professors rely upon students sitting in the same seats for attendance purposes. Try not to move the general area of the class you attend, or it may throw everyone off!

Lectures 1.2 (preparation)

This is just how I do it I by no means am telling you it is right or for you. Take the information as you will and enjoy!

The night before, make sure you have the readings read and the classwork done (whatever that may be). I can attest to the power of doing the readings (as one who is in multiple English classes and therefore has A LOT of readings). I had a class last semester that I barely did any of the readings for and, although I got an A, I didn’t enjoy it at all. Not only that, but I can’t believe the number of times that I complained I “didn’t learn anything.” Like, no shit, Michaela. You didn’t try. Getting readings and classwork done, even if it isn’t for a grade, will make your life so much easier and you might even find yourself enjoying the subject as you will get a much better understanding.

If you find something confusing or an obscure thought pops up while doing your readings/work, write it down. It will give you a way into class discussion and will help you tons in understanding the topic. I can’t count the number of times in which I know I had a question but by the time it came to the lecture I’d forgotten it.

Before lectures, I like to do a little researching on the topic outside of the textbooks. There is a lot of interesting information out there that can aid you in discussion when in class. Building a relationship with the professors of your major is key to your educational career as you move forward and the best way to do that is by getting them in their element and finding a common ground (I’m still working on this as I don’t like meeting new people).

Make sure you have everything you need. Whether that be a full case of pens and highlighters and your favorite notebook or simply your laptop and a water bottle, you don’t want to show up without the necessities.

Lectures 1.3 (how I do the thing called class)

To start on the most basic level, I get to my seat and set my desk up. I’m super anal about order and my OCD tends to kick in here so you probably won’t have to the compulsive problem I do to situate things over and over again because they’re a little tilted (like just chill Michaela), but however you do it, get yourself prepared before the professor starts the class. It’ll get quiet really quickly and (for me at least) shuffling around in your bag for your stuff is super uncomfortable and embarrassing.

During the lecture, I write down a lot of things besides the notes from the PowerPoints. For me, the notes I take in lecture are really messy. I not only cover what is in the slides, but also anything my teacher says that isn’t there. Usually, if the teacher decides to go off on a topic, it is important and you should pay extra attention to it (unless it’s obvious that your teacher just goes off the rails all the time). I also tend to add reflective commentary and any questions I may have (and their answers).

On the topic of questions, don’t be afraid to ask them. It is severely important for your questions to get answered. You thought them for a reason. You clearly don’t understand something and need a little more detail to do so. It does you no good to have a question sitting there in your head without an answer. Knowledge is power people. Even if you have to wait till the end of lecture because of shyness, do it. You’ll be thankful later.

If your lecturer has included them in their slides, copy the graphs or models (even if it looks like chicken scratch) those charts are more than likely going to show up again later on during a test or quiz because they are short, simple, and cover a heap of information. Get. It. Down.

I absolutely love when a teacher creates an example for better understanding. They usually come up with something that is simple and easy to understand and that is something that has become EXTREMELY helpful for when I’m trying to understand theory, philosophy, and language (yes, even the English language gets me). Examples given by teachers are also something to keep in your notes as they are usually never generic and can be helpful down the line when you need to write a paper.

After lectures, you should always engage with the material again. I do this by rewriting my notes. It has been scientifically proven that writing helps with long-term memory of ideas and conceptual information. Writing the notes twice helps me even more. By creating a format of my notes (as opposed to the bland first draft) I am able to make a snapshot in my head of those notes and thus remember the information (this is just something that helps me as I have a slightly photographic memory. You by no means need to doll up your notes. It’s a lot of work and not for everyone so don't feel bad about doing something more minimal!)

For vocabulary, I swear by flashcards. I, of course, have the vocab in my notes already, but I use flashcards for memory as they are not only a technical third time of writing the vocab., but they also help in giving a flash in my memory of the characters (Chinese) and their meaning. The repetitive motion of flipping the flash card also helps when I try to think back to the vocabulary I went over. If you are able to remember the routine, you can effectively form an image in your head of the word and remember the information more clearly (ok, I know this might not work for everyone, but that’s how my mind works. I would compare it to a “Mind Palace” where schemes and events are created to aid with memory of a certain topic, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say my memory is that good.)

That last point was sort of a sneak peek into Part 5! I really hope you enjoyed this. It was a little more personal as how I go about my lectures will differ as what will work to you, but I always find it fascinating to see how others work academically. If you have any questions or want to comment on your own experiences, please do so! Part 4 will be up next Sunday and will be covering assignments (homework and papers) and the tips I have for that as well as my own commentary of the “proper” ways to study *please, note the sarcasm and heavy eye roll*

Thanks for reading and enjoy the rest of your day!

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artificialqueens · 7 years ago

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Open Up When (Shalaska) Chapter 1 - Kayden

an: im back back back again nearly a month later with the first chapter WHOOPS tbh chapter length might drop bc like???? i wanna please the people ANYWAY here yall go

The letter felt heavy between the blonde’s fingers. Even though she had only opened the envelope a few seconds beforehand, it seemed as if she had been curled up in that position for years. Just reading Sharon’s handwriting. By reading Sharon’s handwriting, Alaska meant that she had only read the “Dear Alaska”. Her eyes traced over each stroke of the letters. She could imagine Sharon hunched over a desk, chewing her pen before falling back in her desk chair and groaning loudly. That was what Sharon would do. There she was, scratching her way back into Alaska’s thoughts. The girl let out a sigh. It was too late now to back out. She traced one slim finger down the edge of the paper and began reading.

“Dear Alaska,

You’ve opened this because you’re sad and I’m not there. Obviously.”

“Ah fuck.” She muttered. She’d forgotten what was on the front of the envelope. The part that would reveal what the letter would contain. The most important past of the damn thing. She was so interested in the contents that she immediately turned it over and used one acrylic nail to rip it open. Man, she really was a psycho ex girlfriend. Whatever, it was open now.

“I’m so sorry I can’t be there to comfort you baby. I really am. You know it makes me sad when you’re sad. I hope I can return to you soon with all of your favourite foods and make you feel better again.”

The words felt bitter on the blonde’s tongue. Alaska wanted her favourite foods. She wanted to cuddle up on the couch and watch shitty daytime television. She wanted- No, she needed Sharon to comfort her. She could’ve if she wasn’t the one destroying Alaska’s heart and mind. Alaska shook off the thought and continued reading.

“Since I can’t let you cry into my shoulder and pull my hair into styles I can’t pronounce the names of, I decided to list some of my favourite memories and I’m praying to some non-existent god that they cheer you up. I swear I’ll be there for you soon”

Alaska let out a small chuckle. Well, at least it seemed like one. She enjoyed Sharon’s twisted sense of humour. She missed it. Her fingers wiped away a tear that was threatening to escape. The blonde was going to try not to cry millions of tears by the end of the letter.

“Firstly, remember the first time I said I loved you back? The time we nearly got kicked out of a department store? I still can’t believe you did it. You broke down my walls.”

Of course Alaska remembered. It was the first time that Sharon actually said those words to her. She leaned back against the end of her bed as she recalled that eventful day.

May 12th, 12.04pm

Alaska pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail as she glanced through what to wear on her date with Sharon. Even though they had been going out for four and a half months already, they hadn’t done two things. One, they hadn’t come out as dating. It was obvious as to why. If Alaska, co-head cheerleader and part of the popular group, came out as gay, she would be horrendously bullied. If she was exposed as being gay AND dating the punk rule breaker Sharon? Her name would be plastered over every bathroom stall. Sharon was used to it but she couldn’t bear to see Alaska’s reputation destroyed. The other thing was that they both hadn’t said ‘I love you" yet. The blonde had, multiple times. Whether it was a playful side comment while they were laughing over cups of tea or the more serious times, those words always seemed to be uttered by Alaska. Was she slightly disappointed? Yes. However she was fully aware that Sharon wasn’t as trusting in relationships and that it was hard for her to open up. She needed to respect that.

The blonde pulled out a pleated skirt. It was a pastel pink and came to a little bit above the knee on the cheerleaders long lanky legs. It was perfect for any date. That reminded her, where was Sharon even taking her? She pulled out her phone and began typing out a quick message.

To: Noodles❤️:

can i at least have a hint as to where you’re taking me ??? >:(

From: Noodles❤️:

No, you may not.

A frown crossed the girl’s face. She had never liked surprises. Her mother had thrown her a surprise party for her 12th birthday and she had a horrible panic attack. The girl let out a small prayer that history wouldn’t repeat itself. She couldn’t let Sharon know about her anxiety. Sharon already opened up to Alaska about her past and how it fucked her up. Alaska needed to be the strong one in the relationship.

She slid her skirt up her thighs and adjusted it, turning to look in the mirror. The skirt was cute, but not with her oversized top that she wore to sleep. She took another look in her closet. After a few seconds of searching, She found a basic black singlet top that she could wear her favourite sweater on top of. She changed her clothing, tossing her pyjama shirt in the laundry basket and struck a pose in the mirror. Man, this outfit was adorable. She blew herself a kiss and pulled her hair out of the ponytail it was in. Light blonde locks fell over her back. Using her slim fingers, she shook it a little to let the hair fall more naturally before moving over to her drawers to find a hair brush. Something was off however. She was scrambling to find the brush in silence. After putting on some love song playlist, she continued to look.

When her quest for the hairbrush was over, she let the bristle slip through her sun kissed locks, letting it untangle every knot. After allowing her brush to do its main purpose, she began to use it as a microphone, badly screaming the lyrics to some bad quality 90’s ballad. She twirled around her room, the edges of her skirt lifting upwards to expose more of her lightly tanned thighs. Her lips parted to reveal a toothy smile as she sat down in front of her vanity, still singing the song, this time quieter and with more of a melody than her earlier screaming. She pulled open a drawer to reveal palettes upon palettes of makeup. After going through all her drawers and picking out the makeup she would wear, she decided to send Sharon another text.

To: Noodles❤️:

just starting my makeup now xx how are you going ??

No response just yet. She expected that from Sharon. With her it was respond anywhere from three seconds to three weeks later. She placed her phone down and began to apply her foundation. It was a small while later that her phone vibrated, when she had just begun to apply eyeshadow. The blonde jumped, nearly ruining the entire look.

From: Noodles❤️:

Haven’t left bed yet. x

The blonde let out an eye roll and a small chuckle. She was still so confused as to how her girlfriend always looked stunning whenever she saw her even when she was wearing the same clothes that she had for the past week and her hair was a complete mess. Alaska finished up her eyeliner, the small flicks at the end not being completely straight, but then again, neither was she. After finishing up her full look with a touch of mascara, she headed downstairs to put on some sneakers and to deal with her mother.

As she tied her laces, her mother came into the room. Alaska’s mom wasn’t much shorter than her, and had aged well. Her hair was dry from re-bleaching it all these years. She wore clothing that was vaguely bohemian but still had a very strong ‘mom’ feel to it. She took a step closer to her daughter and began to speak.

“When am I going to meet this boyfriend of yours? He seems like such a sweetheart, taking you on all these dates and things. Much more romantic than your father. Will I be meeting him soon? How about I walk you out and come meet him?” She smiled. The younger blonde put her hands up.

“That won’t be necessary, okay? You’ll meet them eventually.” She put her bag over one shoulder and headed out, giving a small wave to her mother before slamming the door.

To: Noodles❤️:

hey im at the end of the drive waiting

To: Noodles❤️:

just had more questions from my mother

To: Noodles❤️:

she wants to meet u badly yikes

Alaska sighed into the cool air, letting the wind realign where her hair sat on her shoulders. She lightly rubbed one arm and leaned out in time to see Sharon’s car turn the corner. The entire car looked like it was going to fall apart any minute. The pain was chipping and dents decorated every side. On the contrary, Sharon was looking like a million dollars. Perhaps it was the bias that Alaska had due to her being absolutely head over heels in love with the goth. She grinned and waved as the girl pulled up on the curb and rolled down her window.

“Babe, if I knew you were going to dress up this well, I would’ve planned something fancier.” Sharon chuckled.

Alaska rolled her eyes and got into the car, closing the door behind her. “This is really nothing, I swear. Where are you taking me anyways?” The blonde fastened her seatbelt and leaned over to plant a quick kiss on her girlfriend’s cheek. Sharon awkwardly smiled. “C'mon, it won’t be that bad, will it?” Alaska pouted slightly and placed one hand onto the shorter girl’s thigh. “Will it?”

Sharon nervously laughed. She had been shocked by how gorgeous Alaska had looked and suddenly felt guilty about not taking her girlfriend on the trip she deserved. Her eyes became fixated on Alaska’s facial features. She became so focused on all the tiny details that made the blonde look like a goddess that she didn’t realise that she had been asked a question.

“Hm? I’m sorry I just-” Sharon shook her head and rubbed her eyes slightly, “got a little distracted. What was it you were saying?” She attempted to laugh and shrug it off that she just got lost in Alaska’s beauty but she could tell by the blonde’s sudden outburst of giggling that it hadn’t worked.

tags- open up when, kayden, shalaska, sharon needles, alaska,

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll find out the answers soon” She managed to get out through laughter.

The first half of the car ride was smooth, filled with small talk and large periods where Alaska would just admire her girlfriend. Around the middle of the car ride is when the anxiety started. What if the reason Sharon hadn’t said she loved Alaska yet was because she didn’t? What if she was going to leave Alaska in the middle of the woods? What if Sharon was only dating her to get rid of her? The blonde could feel her breathing get quicker and she fiddled with the folds in her skirt. What was it that her councillor told her to do? Alaska racked her mind for the answer.

It came to her after about a minute of quietly panicking. Best scenario, Worst scenario, Most likely scenario. Best scenario? Sharon took her down to the dock and married her right then and there. They’d both escape to New York and raise two cats. Alaska grinned at the idea of it. Worst? Sharon ditched her in a forest and tied her up to a tree and let her be eaten by woodland creatures. Why wouldn’t have Sharon done it earlier in the relationship though? Realising that it was unrealistic, Alaska could feel her heartbeat settle as well as her breathing. What would most likely happen? They’d go on a date like they had done for the past couple months. Now calmer, Alaska began to drift off in her car seat.

May 12th, 1:47pm

As they pulled into the parking lot, Alaska woke up, batting her eyelashes and stretching as much as possible given the confined space she was in. Her eyes still plagued with sleep, she looked out the window to see where her date would take place. The image that laid in front of her was… Kmart. She turned quickly around and gave Sharon a questioning look, not sure if this was the final destination or not.

“Sorry it’s not quite what you expected” Sharon rubbed the back of her neck and averted eye contact, assuming she had let down her date.

Alaska ran a hand over Sharon’s thigh, her fingers meeting skin where the rips in her jeans were. “It’s absolutely perfect”

They walked across the parking lot, fingers interlocked. As they reached the door, Sharon pulled her hand away. Alaska frowned slightly but knew it was for protection. If someone they knew was there, it would be easier for Sharon to duck away if Alaska wasn’t touching her. Or if homophobes approached they could claim to be just friends. Overall, safety was more important right now.

They made their way into the store. It was much smaller than Alaska remembered but the last time she had gone she was much younger. She wanted to see how it had changed so she grasped onto Sharon’s hand (after checking for any people who would possibly see) and began searching.

Alaska ran down through the aisles, dragging her girlfriend behind her. Even though Sharon was about to completely fall over onto her face, she was happy. Alaska turned slightly to check on her girlfriend every now and then to make sure she was keeping up. They had made it to around halfway when Alaska came to a quick halt, causing the slightly shorter girl to completely fall over due to not gaining balance back quickly enough. Sharon laughed whilst the cheerleader desperately tried to check if she was injured.

“Angel, I’m fine” she reassured the vaguely panicked girl.

“Are you sure? I’m used to falls like that because of cheerleading but you won’t be so you might be really badly injured and I know first aid!” She rambled before realising that people were looking over very concerned. “She’s fine! She’s ok! I’m just overreacting!” She nervously giggled and tried to use her hair to hide her now blushing face. Sharon chuckled as she looked at the woman who had come over, worried about them. She looked to be in her 50’s and wore clothing that made her seem like she was much older. The woman smiled at the blonde and turned her head to look at the girl on the ground. Her brow furrowed and the corners of her lips turned downwards.

“You there, in the black. You look like a faggot dressing like that!” She pointed at Sharon. Alaska balled her fist and prepared for a fight but relaxed when she made eye contact with Sharon and realised she had it under control.

Sharon finally got off the ground after the slur was shouted and stood there calmly, giving a small nod to her girlfriend when she realised that she was about to throw some hands.

“You know what?” She began, taking a small step towards the woman and saw Alaska step behind her out of her peripheral view.

“I dress like this because I am a faggot. I’m a major flaming homosexual. I love holding hands with girls, I love taking girls on dates and I absolutely love eating girls out. Especially good girls. You think they’re all nice and pretty and will never stray away from faith and you’re wrong. They quiver under my fingertips. I pleasure girls way better than your husband has ever pleasured you. You hear that? I’m a goddess in the sheets. A fucking goddess. Don’t try and tell me I’m going to hell. I know I am. However, telling by your age, you’re going to get there before me. So be a darling and save me a seat, won’t you?”

Alaska wanted to go over and kiss her right then and there but didn’t. She didn’t know why she decided against it, but she did. After the woman had stormed off, she ran into Sharon’s arms, draping her own arms around her girlfriend’s neck. “That was… fucking amazing” She leaned closer in, resting her head on Sharon’s collarbone.

“Yeah it was,” Sharon paused “But we should leave before we get thrown out, don’t want to damage my little angels reputation.”

Alaska pulled away from the hug, rolling her eyes.

“You know I’d ruin it for you.”

May 12th, 2:28pm

After purchasing drinks, the girls decided to wander around the parking lot for a little while. The day had quietened slightly and the two girls walked side by side. Alaska appreciated the fact that most of the bustling people had stopped. Now only two noises lingered in Alaska’s mind; Sharon’s footsteps and the breaths that escaped both of them. She turned her head to smile at her girlfriend and discovered that Sharon had been looking at her the whole time they had been walking.

“What’cha thinking about?” Alaska let the words bounce off her tongue and escape through cherry coated lips.

“How much I love yo- Oh fuck.” Sharon began to splutter and panic, “I didn’t mean it, I mean I do but” She was shut up by the feeling of a finger pressing against her lips.

“It’s ok, I understand.” Alaska pulled her slim hand back towards her. The shorter girl shook her head.

“You really don’t understand. You don’t understand at all. Whenever I look at you the entire world and all the stars realign. Whenever you smile all colour comes back to my world. Whenever we kiss I can taste happiness and I haven’t tasted that since… forever ago. Everyday I wake up wondering how you’ve stayed with a freak like me. When you said yes to me asking you out, I went home and woke up the next day wanting to get out of bed. You’ve made me want to live again. So you really don’t understand how much I love you. I really do love you. I used to be so afraid of saying that. I thought you would hate me or that I’d end up being wrong about it. I know now that I’m desperately head over heels for you. You make me so fucking happy. God, if there even is one, I’m so fucking in love with you.”

That’s when Alaska realised. She, head cheerleader and one of the popular girls, had fallen completely for Sharon. The same Sharon who skipped class to smoke and played the bass guitar and flipped off teachers and had absolutely gorgeous hair and eyes and- Oh fuck. She really did love Sharon didn’t she?

The blonde grabbed her girlfriend’s hand and raced back to Sharon’s run down piece of metal she called a car. They both jumped in, this time to the back seat. No longer caring who saw them, the girls both became entangled. If a passerby were to look in, they wouldn’t be able to tell where Alaska stopped and Sharon began. When their lips weren’t touching, they were intensely staring at each other.

That’s when it all faded back to black

Present Day

Alaska moved one her hands from the paper to her face. Hot and wet. She wiped some of her tears away. Reading the entire letter would take forever if she continued to have full blown flashbacks like this. She needed to figure out why Sharon had left her and she needed to know soon. But I mean, it wouldn’t be THAT harmful to finish that letter first before moving onto the letters that she knew would make her upset at everything. Alaska stood up and looked out the window. It was dark. Really dark. She knew she couldn’t continue reading right now, she needed rest.

Alaska changed into a new shirt for the first time in a week, glad that she had finally cleaned up the closet. She lay down and decided to check her phone to see if anyone had messaged her. Turns out there were three messages.

From: Willam the Pig:

cant wait to see ur ass tomorrow u missed so much holy fuck

From: Courtney 🐨:

Looking forward to finally catching up tomorrow!!! I’ve missed you so much!!! : )

From: Russian Doll:

If ur not coming tomorrow im gonna eat ur son and also u

The blonde let out a huge sigh, realising she had to go back tomorrow and see everyone. All the teachers already hated her for talking during class but she’d have to do a whole lot more talking tomorrow to find out everything that happened. Knowing her school, the drama would be intense. Last time she was away for a week she came back to Alyssa starting drama with everyone and she meant everyone.

Most importantly, Sharon would be there. Does she remember the letters? Does she care? Should she get her clothes back tomorrow? Would she show up to cheerleading practice? What about science class?

Alaska would have to think it all over in the morning.

#please remember your tags!#kayden #shalaska #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #rpdr fanfiction #submission #open up when #lesbian au

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tink-bell · 8 years ago

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They Tried to Make Me Go to Rehab || One-Shot || Bdrptask

Or the one where you all get a look into Tink’s time in rehab.

TW: drug abuse and use, mentions of possible rape, and Tink just being a sad shit.

Loud party music blared in her ears, vibrated her very core. It would be enough to give even the sanest person a headache for days. But for Tink it was a safe haven. The louder the music the better. And with the near Brompton Cocktail of drugs rushing through her system it was just what she’d needed. It had been a concoction designed to numb her just a bit. And it had worked. Tink felt nearly nothing, save for the thump thumping bass surrounding her. It buoyed her up, made a hazy smile find a home on her lips, as her body pressed against another. The heat brought a flush to her cheeks, her chest, and her breath became heavier than normal.

But Tinker Bell didn’t care.

Her body, her veins, her heart. They were all singing the same song: More. Not enough. All she could do was obey. She took what she could find, what she was offered. Cliff was there at her side, at the ready. How much had he already given her? Uppers, downers, everything in between. Everything but Fey’s. She might have been out of it but she had known deep down that she couldn’t do that. Not again. Not after….

The fairy’s head had shook then, a laugh forcing it’s way from her throat. She felt good, so good, she was floating. High above everyone at the party, in Swynlake. She could see all the little building and houses, their lights twinkling at her almost as if they were winking. Begging her to come back to Earth, back to her home.

----------

Tink gasped, sweat covering her brow and pain radiating through her body, as she woke. Just as it had the past couple of days, her body took it’s time recognizing where she was. The bed was hard, the sheets scratchy. The sun that peeked through the beige curtain was bright but obscured by clouds outside. There was no smell of coffee brewing, no sounds of scratching at her window; a tell tale sign that Johnny Boy was ready for food or to finally find a place to sleep after a night of prowling the streets. She was alone.

She was in rehab.

The mere thought had her body curling in on itself. Her dream, more vivid each and every day, was the reason she was there. She could remember that much. Could remember wanting more and more until she blacked out. Remembered waking up and panicking. Everything that had led her here. And just like every other morning for the past five days, once the realization hit, Tink curled into a painful ball and cried.

It was in that position that the nurse found her. As usual she’d stayed so long that she had forgotten about getting up and getting her meds. The ones that they swore would make her detox better. It was a cocktail of painkillers, low dosage so as not to get her addicted to those. She wasn’t nearly through it, just beginning really. But they were prepared. Her doctor and therapist had made sure she understood the process before it had fully kicked in. Weeks, they said, it could take. Tink didn’t want weeks but it wasn’t her call, not really.

But the nurse was kind, allowed Tink to cry and apologize and yell at her while she administered the morning dose of medicines through syringe. She had whispered to Tink that it was going to be alright. That once the painkillers entered her system she’d be able to think clearly, to move without the sharp pains or cramps and muscles soreness. It would be that dull manageable pain that Tink was so accustomed to now. And then the doctor would see her and take her to her therapist.

Very routine. Very methodic. Exactly what Tink needed.

It let her know what to expect when her door opened next. Still, she didn’t speak to the doctor. Answered her questions with shrugs and nods and shakes. Tink could get away with it, see? Because she knew the real talking would come in just a few minutes. That was the only talking that mattered anyway. Even then it would take some prying to get Tink to open up fully. It always did. Most of her sessions so far had been Nico (short for Nicodemus, short for Doctor Nicodemus Smith, PhD) trying to get her to speak, to offer him anything, any little insight to how she felt or what she was thinking. Tink would resolutely not answer. Instead, she’d pick at her really shitty detox uniform or look pointedly away. Because she didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to go through with the whole process when she knew that the moment she got out, she’d more than likely go right back to the Tink Bell she’d been before her breakdown. Which was exactly what it was. A breakdown because she’d gotten overwhelmed with everything. Dying, fighting, floundering, feeling as if she was alone despite having her friends.

So, she expected more of the same when she entered the therapist's office. Nico was sitting there as he usually was. But today he wasn’t in suit and tie. He was dressed casually, a little self satisfied smirk on his lips as he watched Tink walk into the room unsurely. “Tink. You look confused,” he grinned as he stood. Another first, Tink thought. Normally he would motion for her to sit, would open his folder for her, and start talking. But today, there was no folder, no pen in hand, no business as usual Nico. He looked like he was ready for an outing.

Tink kept quiet, watching him and waiting for whatever was about to happen. Maybe he’d realized she was a lost cause. He was setting her back into the world. “We’re going on a little trip,” he explained as he moved closer, even offering her his arm. An eyebrow raised at him as she looked at his arm and tried her best not to scoff. Doing that hurt and she was so very tired of hurting. “You aren’t like the other patients, Miss Bell. It took a couple of days but I figured that sitting in here isn’t going to work.

“Your chart says that you’re a fairy,” he continued when Tink continued to look at him as if he’d grown a third head. “I did my research, called a few of your mates. The ones that brought you here. Simba and Berlioz?” At their names, Tink faltered just a bit, looked eagerly towards the doctor at the mention of her closest friends. “Berlioz mentioned that you liked the forest back home. That you would go there when you were overwhelmed or needed to clear your head. Simba said the same.” By that point Tink had nodded at him and made to follow him. She hadn’t yet touched him, didn’t feel the need to, but she was listening and open to where this was going. “Good, wonderful. I figured, even though I technically can’t take you back to Swynlake, there is a lovely garden not far from the center. Perhaps we could talk there? No notes, no files. Just me and you?”

She had the opportunity to get out of the building. To get away from the four walls that suffocated her on a daily basis. Truly, she shouldn’t turn down the offer. It was a small chance at normalcy. At feeling something other than cold and weighed down. And Nico had realized that. Had gotten the proper information on how best to reach her through the people that knew her best. He was trying and that did mean something to Tink deep down. “Alright.” She agreed softly, making Nico nearly beam at her.

They walked in silence until they were outside and Tink took her first breath of somewhat clean air in nearly a week. Almost instantly she felt the anxiety she felt ease, lessen. Even her bones hurt a little bit less. There was a small part of her that wanted to shrink down to her pixie form, to use that as a distraction for Nico and then escape and make her way back to Swynlake. She could pretend to be alright for long enough so people would top questioning where she had gone. It would be entirely too easy. No one had even known there was a problem until she’d gone so completely off the deep end she’d sent herself away. And that was the beauty of it, wasn’t it? No one had known. Maybe Berlioz and Simba had had a feeling but they hadn’t acted on it. Hadn’t confronted her about it. She could get away with it again if she wanted to.

But she didn’t want to.

“If you want, you can just talk about anything. Whatever you want. Or we can just walk. Whichever you’d prefer.”

It was a prompt. He wanted Tink to talk. Wanted to hear whatever she had to say. And wasn’t that weird? Not often did people want that. At least not in a real sense. Playing around Tink could say whatever she wanted. Could tell jokes, make people laugh. It was easy. Getting down to the grit, to what was real. It wasn’t something Tink did very often. It had caused a rift between her and Simba one too many times. Had nearly destroyed their friendship. It had gotten her in arguments with Berlioz; something she never really wanted to do. But now, now Nico was wanting to hear anything and everything. And Tink could just spout it all off, explain every single last detail of her life if she wanted.

“I don’t--- I don’t know how exactly I got here,” she started, softly with her eyes downcast. Her steps slowed just a bit, wanting to prolong everything if she could. “I remember the party, remember almost everything I took. Could even tell you who was supplyin’ me. But there’s a blank, just this huge black mark on the night somewhere between going up stairs and then waking up. And I think that scares me more than anything? Anything could have happened. I could’ve been raped, could’ve caught something. I could have hurt someone without meaning to. I’d hate myself, you know? If I’d hurt someone.”

While Tink spoke, Nico listened, nodding his head in understanding and taking mental notes that he would jot down later. It was good that Tink was talking, that she was beginning to communicate with him freely rather than him having to pry answers from her. The biggest part of her rehabilitation was cooperation. She had to want the help as much as he wanted to give her help. They were on the right path. “But you realize, that you were hurting someone. And don’t give me that look. I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about your friends. The people that care about you.”

He didn’t say any names but he didn’t have to. The moment he’d mentioned people that cared about her she could envision their faces. Their faces laced with disappointment when they found out where Tink really was, why she was there. Her parents probably wouldn’t speak to her, more than likely wouldn’t visit. Her father… He’d probably hate her for being so reckless, for not caring that she was putting herself in jeopardy every single time she let herself get out of control. Especially after the Fey’s Gold incident. Her mother would simply say I told you so and then shake her head. Because she had said something. Had tried to keep Tink from planting herself so firmly in the Mundus world away from her roots. Simba and Berlioz… Their looks would be the worst. If only because it wasn’t disappointment she’d be faced with. With them it would be pity and worry. They’d be careful around her, treat her as if she were tempered glass. And she didn’t want that. She wasn’t fragile. Wasn’t going to break apart into a million pieces.

“Would you believe me if I said I did it, started the drinking and the drugs, so they wouldn’t worry? So I wouldn’t hurt them? Because that is part of the reason. Er, well, part of the reason I kept it going for so long. Why I would have continued if I hadn’t… You know.” She let out a self depreciating laugh at that, shaking her head. There was more. Always more lingering on her lips but it took Tink time to be brave, to compose her thoughts into something coherent. Without focus they ran rampant, switched directions continuously and without pause. By the time she could get a grasp on one there was another wiggling it’s way in and stealing her attention.

And so they lapsed back into silence, Tink struggling with herself while Nico watched her. If too long passed in silence he would suggest they head back, it was getting close to the scheduled lunch time anyways. Routine was important to her treatment at the moment. If she was not going to speak further then there was no need to break it. But if they were on the cusp of something…

It was that exact moment that Tink spoke again, her voice a bit louder, stronger. “I can blame people, right? Even if it’s not the best practice? I can put blame on someone or an event?” It was one of the first real questions that Tink had ever directed towards him. Probably the first in a slew that would come in due time, but it was yet another start. Nico couldn’t help but chuckle at first, thought it tapered off quickly. “It’s not wise but it is part of the process. You’ll have to realize in time that what you’re blaming was just the catalyst. You were the one to make the choice to turn towards your vice.”

Once more, Tink became quiet as she mulled over his words. She figured she could do that, eventually. But for now. For now she could blame Peter. Blame him leaving. It was his fault. “My best mate growing up. He left. Without a word. Just up and left,” she was quiet again, could feel the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as her throat burned so hotly she had to clear it. She already knew what Nico would say. That it was the urge, the urge to drink herself into oblivion. Because this was one of those topics that she avoided, hid away until she was so drunk all she could do was cry about it. But now she was going to try and talk about it. “We’d been drifting, you know. The way people do when they graduate. But we’d promised that wouldn’t happen. That we’d stick together. Thick and thin, kinda thing. I loved him. Still do but that’s not the point. I loved him and he left me. He promised me he wouldn’t. And the worst part? I blame myself. If I had… I don’t even know! If I hadn’t stuck down roots. If I hadn’t gone to school and gotten my business degree. Maybe he would have stayed. We could have been traveling the world. Creating all sorts of trouble. I wouldn’t be....”

Somewhere in her words the dam had broken, tears streaking trails down her cheeks as she stopped walking altogether. It was an influx of emotions she didn’t want to deal with. And she certainly didn’t want to be crying in front of her therapist, even if that was his job. To push her so hard she got through the difficult stuff, the poison. Because that was another thing that played into her addiction. Combat the poison with another poison. Great logic.

Beside her Nico was, for the first time in his meetings with Tink, speechless. He hadn’t realized that taking her away from the facility would have such an impact. It had been a long shot, a last hope sort of thing. If anything he was going to use it as a way to show her that he could be a friend in this place, could get her away if only she would let him in. But, in true Tink fashion he supposed, she had blown right through that and made the push herself. Had opened up in a way he hadn’t expected so soon. He was expecting months of intense sessions and meetings. Progress was progress and he was proud of Tink.

“You did what you wanted to do, Tink. Which is leaps and bounds more than what some people ever do in their lives. If Peter couldn’t see that and accept it then it’s his fault, not yours. You did what you felt was right for you. You followed a dream.” He turned to look down at Tink then. She was wiping at her eyes, trying to compose herself. Trying to get back to the strong fairy her friends had said she was. He offered her a smile and then turned to look back at the direction they had come from. “I think we’ve made really good progress today Tink. And that you should be rewarded for it. How does phone privileges sound, hm? You can skip lunch if you’d like. Make your first phone call to whoever you want?”

Was he offering her an olive branch? It felt almost as if he was. That the relationship was turning more from patient/therapist into a more equal one of mutual understanding. Or at least, Nico was beginning to understand her and how exactly she worked and she was realizing that talking, while annoying and hard for her to do, was making her feel a bit better. Already she felt a little bit of the weight gone from her chest. Her meds were wearing off, though, and she could feel that bone deep weariness seeping back into her body. Or was that from having such an emotional meeting? Surely they had gone over the usual hour long talk. Whatever it was, it had Tink nodding with the smallest of smiles. “Yeah, sure, but after a nap. You should know better than to make your detoxing patient walk all the way out here.” It was a quip, meant to do nothing but tease the good doctor. But it was the first friendly one she’d given in a week and it was yet another sign. One that said maybe this would be good for her. Maybe, just maybe, she’d get better after all.

#( they tried to make me go to rehab )#bdrptask #brptasks #( one-shot )

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