#Then spent half the remaining night anxious if either of these things were even gonna taste good

[kennys-parka-jacket]

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[cowboycakes]

The Strategy

Pairing: Zeke Jaeger x Reader

Synopsis: The forest was the last place you thought you'd find yourself infatuated with someone you barely knew - especially not your cocky prisoner.

Themes: angst, flirting, guilty love, big plot twist

Warnings: kissing and suggestive language, bullying / teasing, mentions of death, some anxious thinking, light alcohol and tobacco use, profanity. reader uses she/her pronouns. s4 spoilers.

Word Count: 5.7k

Anon (🐸)'s Request: Hi ! Can I request a Zeke x fem reader imagine/one-shot? Reader is a captain for the survey corp and long time veteran. She is really intelligent and is a strategist for the corp. They kind of hate each other but have a lot of chemistry but start bonding before the forest incident. Sorry if that isn't specific enough and too vague.

On occasion, you tended to be so logical that it ruined your life. There was no room in your mind for daydreams, love, or speculation. Fate was false - most things in life were completely arbitrary. That was the way you’d trained yourself to think. Not because you enjoyed it, only because it made it easier to survive.

This way of thinking is a result of your lifetime with the Corps. The award of a Captain’s position was the fruit of your labor, along with being revered for your ability to strategize. Many of the most important and most successful missions in recent years had been planned by you. But, the bubbling tension and division within the walls have thrown you for a loop. You’ve attempted to collaborate with Levi in recent weeks to try to pin down any conflict - anything you could do to calm the storm and keep your comrades safe would be worth it.

Instead of being able to act on whatever plans you’d developed, you’d been assigned to the most bizarre mission you’d ever taken part in: babysitting some man in his late twenties, all the way out in a forest filled with towering redwood trees. This mystery man was apparently not to be trusted, he was Eren’s half-brother from Marley and the holder of the beast titan. He’d done tremendous damage to the Corps in the past. His intentions and motives now remained mysterious, but one thing was for sure: his loyalties lied with Eren, not with the Scouts.

You were disappointed and terrified all together. Being so far away from the action left both you and your comrades vulnerable. But, Levi insisted you needed to confine this man far away from society. And although you were a captain, whatever Levi says usually goes.

The forest wasn’t so bad upon your arrival. Damp pine needles that covered the ground coated the air in a sweet aroma. The blanket of shade given off by the trees was temperate in the summer heat. The tents you’d been provided with were sturdy, insulated, and a dark shade of green that complimented the woodland setting. Above all, you were accompanied by 30 trained soldiers and a shipment of high-quality Marleyan wine.

The entirety of your first day in the forest was spent unpacking and setting up your living quarters. Stars now peak through the canopy of branches above, and a cold breeze ruffles the millions of leaves surrounding the camp. The air was chilly despite the heat that blazed earlier in the day.

The cot you’d assembled in your tent is comfortable enough, but the grey sheets you’d just stretched over the mattress still smell stale. You conjure up the idea of going for a walk while your blankets air out. The musty scent sure wasn’t going to lull you to sleep.

Your timid feet crunch on the ground through the forest for a while, away from the camp. The mist of your breath is tangible in front of your face - the light jacket you’d brought wasn’t going to be enough to keep your goosebumps at bay. It’s much more intimidating out here at night than you’d expected. Darkness brought mystery to the gaps between each tree. And the sheer amount of trees beyond the campsite is dizzying, their height is even more difficult to process. They add a sense of company to your walk, although you can’t tell if they are peaceful observers or prying sets of eyes.

It’s surprisingly quiet out here, no animal or human alike made noise at this hour. The silence leads you to pick up on the echo of a fire crackling somewhere. You’re suddenly a bit excited - you’d figured everyone would have gone to sleep by now.

You spot a comforting orange glow coming from the other side of the distant campsite, offset from the main groups of tents. Maybe someone else’s sheets needed time to breathe too.

The light grows brighter as you trek towards it. It leads you to a humble tent and a fire pit with two rusted metal chairs placed on either side of it. In one of the chairs sits a blonde man in a white shirt, with his back turned to you. He has his nose in a poorly bound book - its stitching is frayed and the pages look wilted, as if they’d been dropped in water before. A cigarette smolders in his free hand.

Your feet crunch into the ground a little harder as you approach in an attempt to avoid startling him. The man looks up to you once you’re finally facing each other. His face is foreign to you. Round glasses on his nose reflect a golden luster from the fire in front of him, blurring your view of his grey eyes slightly. Blonde waves are parted down the middle of his head, tousled a bit too perfectly. He has a well groomed beard that compliments his structured face and strong biceps that peak through his shirt sleeves.

He’s handsome, classy, alluring. Nothing like the usual around here.

“Hi, I’m Captain Reader,” you say with a small smile.

“Reader, huh?” he says, folding his book closed, “I think I’ve heard that name somehow…”

“Oh, possibly. I’m a long time captain. I do a lot of strategic work as well, and it's not exclusive to the Scouts. So my name tends to get around.”

“My name is Zeke,” he replies, returning the smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Zeke… did that sound familiar? You couldn’t decide.

You take a seat in the other chair across from the fire, warming your hands once you get comfortable. The embers lit in front of you are only a sad little bundle of sticks, clearly in need of more fuel. Zeke rolls his shoulders back as his eyes focus in on your frame. His attention is definitely not on the book anymore. His body language almost tells you he likes what he sees - he’s open, relaxed, observant. The cigarette has gone a bit limp in between his fingers.

You’re guilty of curiosity too, as your eyes prod his figure. There must be something in the air.

“What’s that book about?” you question, “it looks… well loved.”

He chuckles. “It's a little fantasy piece, actually. Not something I’d usually find myself reading, but I’ve read it a hundred times now. It’s about a maiden who buys her way to heaven, and a prince who rescues her from the consequences.”

“Interesting…” you say, “how does someone buy their way to heaven?”

“With something far more valuable than money,” he explains. You wonder if the sultry undertone he added was all part of your imagination. It was a little grumbly, suggestive.

“And what would that be?”

“Not sure, still trying to figure that one out,” he remarks, bringing the cigarette up to his lips. Light from the fire gets trapped in the smoke and travels up through the dark air as he exhales.

“You’re gonna ruin your lungs if you keep doing that, Zeke,” you joke.

He chuckles again, “So she’s pretty and caring. Guess I’ve lucked out.”

You feel a little heat rush to your cheeks. This innocent, flattered, puppy-love feeling: you hadn’t felt this way in years. You really wish you could just brush it off, it wasn’t something you were used to. Instead, you let your mind wander for only a second - it would be a nice pastime to have a summer fling with someone in this forest. You were more than tempted. It would get your mind off of the impending doom you tended to feel in chaotic times like this. You could live a bit for once.

And the beautiful man in front of you could be the perfect candidate.

“Hmm, it’s convenient that you think so,” you reply, crossing your legs.

“Convenient? For you, or for me?” he questions. “Looking to get something out of your time in this forest, Captain?”

You pause. He’s bold. “Depends… what about you?”

Zeke lifts the book up slightly in his hand and flips it over to examine its withered back cover, “Not sure, maybe I’ll finally experience whatever this book is talking about. Something so desirable I could cheat my way into heaven with it.”

No. His tone wasn’t your imagination.

“I have a feeling you’ll end up being the prince that has to deal with someone else’s fuck-ups instead,” you laugh.

His lips curl back into a smile as he starts to laugh with you. “Doesn’t sound out of character,” he replies.

His pretty blonde hair ruffles a bit as the wind picks up. And shit - is that wind bitter. The miniscule fire wasn’t doing it’s best to warm you. You notice your limbs are shaking, too much for your jacket and hands to conceal. Zeke surely notices too, he’s been eyeing you this whole time after all.

“Here,” Zeke offers, pulling a thick corduroy coat off of the back of his chair.

“No, no. You should wear that. I’m alright,” you protest, rubbing your hands over your arms vigorously to try to stop your shuddering.

Zeke gets up from his seat anyway and crosses the gap between the two of you. You look up to him once he’s standing over you, embarrassed. Two big hands drape the hefty fabric over your shivering shoulders. You immediately feel warmer as your body heat gets trapped underneath it.

“Thanks,” you mutter, pulling on the jacket to adjust it on your arms.

The wind still howls as Zeke goes back to his metal chair. He sits down casually, taking another drag of his cigarette as his eyes move back to you, lingering on you gently -- like he feels satisfied or nostalgic. Your features looked so beautiful in the faint orange light of the fire, as the only focal point in his vision while darkness clouded everything behind you. He couldn’t help but stare.

“I do mean it,” he says as he exhales, “that you’re pretty.”

His words hang there for a moment. They wait for you on a hook, persuading you to take his bait. So he could reel you in.

“Trying to flatter your superiors huh? Well that’s one way to get what you want,” you retort.

“Who says you’re my superior, Captain Reader?” he jokes.

You laugh at him.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” you begin, “but I’ve never seen you around before. Are you from another branch of the military?”

Zeke pauses, letting out a huff of air.

“You know, with a reputation like yours, one would think you’d know your enemies a little better.”

Your face drops from a smile that rested high on your cheeks to a shocked, open-mouthed glare. You’re frozen. Why didn’t you assume…

“You’re the other Jaeger…” you trail off.

Zeke brings the cigarette back to his mouth and flips his book back open in response.

You stare down into the fire, unsure of what to do or say next. You were mortified. Maybe saying nothing was the answer - you’d already dug yourself into a hole by flirting with your prisoner. And damn, did Zeke deliberately let you. He knew who you were. He wanted you to feel this way. He led you on.

Who was supposed to deal with your fuck-up now?

You stand up, keeping your eyes on the ground.

“Goodnight, Zeke,” you say quietly, dropping his coat onto the chair.

You move quickly through the dark air that nips at your ears, back to the safety of your tent.

***

“Don’t go off and be an idiot,” Levi warns.

You assure him you wouldn’t, pouring a big glass of wine for yourself with a smile spread across your face.

Levi had been more than reluctant to let your soldiers bring this wine, but you’d done some convincing. This forest had been boring for the past few days. Laughing over a few drinks would be a sure way to liven up the crowd. You were just excited to finally get a taste of this Marleyan wine that everyone had been raving about.

You hadn’t seen Zeke since that night three days ago. Unfortunately, you couldn’t get him off of your mind. Partially because you were horribly embarrassed. And angry. You couldn’t believe you’d walked into his trap like that, practically offering yourself to him as a subject to humiliate. You were sure he’d enjoyed every bit of it.

And the other reason you couldn’t get him off of your mind…

He was a bit gorgeous. And you loved the way he talked to you, how it made you feel. Even though your time with him was so short, you secretly wanted more. You cursed yourself for thinking about him like that after all the harm he’d done to the Scouts. All of it made you sick - it was wrong, it made you feel like you had dirt on your hands.

But what if you tried to talk with him again? Just to sort your feelings out. Then you could be free to forget about him. This time, you would control yourself. You knew who he was now, and what it meant to be speaking with him. You were allowed to speak with him, you just had to be careful if you were going to proceed. None of you could trust him.

But the curiosity was still killing you.

You swirl the wine around in your glass as you dig the toe of your leather boot into the soft ground - trying to decide.

Anxious feet move below you before your mind is ready for them to, back toward Zeke’s tent.

It was nearly sundown, and beautiful purple rays beam through the forest, shattered from full display by hundreds of tree branches. The air was warm tonight, so there would be no need for Zeke's jacket again.

Once you see his camp, you notice he’s back in the same chair again. He’s still reading that torn-up book, this time with a pencil in his hand. He scratches little notes onto the pages here and there.

He looks up once he hears the familiar sound of your boots. The eyes behind his circular lenses scan you, lingering on the glass in your hand. You wonder if you should have brought him one.

“Hi, Zeke,” you say softly, making your way to the chair across the empty fire pit.

“Captain, thought I’d never see you again,” he says, a false excitement stuck in his voice.

You keep swirling your wine around in its glass, waiting for it to air out so you could take your first sip. It smelled divine, so fruity and fresh, in contrast with the earthy smells that the forest gave off.

Zeke looks up to you over the top rims of his glasses, unimpressed. You raise your glass to your lips, almost ready to tilt it back and let the chilled, burgundy wine rush into your mouth.

“That’s sluggish if you,” he remarks.

You pause, letting the cool glass linger on your bottom lip.

“What?” you bark, pulling the glass from your mouth.

He looks back down at his book, “No Marleyan strategist - or any good strategist for that matter - would drink in front of their adversaries. It makes you look sluggish.”

You just gape at him. He’s probably having fun while trying to irritate you. Two could play.

You put your arm out in front of you and flip the glass over, pouring the wine onto the wet dirt below. It splashes up onto your boots as it streams from your cup and runs down to spill into the fire pit.

“Happy?” you grumble, tossing the glass into the dirt. “Probably shitty wine anyway, considering you two come from the same place.”

He snickers, “Not quite. I was hoping you’d just hand the glass over.”

You regretted trying to talk to him now.

“Fine,” you sigh, getting up from your spot and turning back toward your tent. “Keep scribbling in your stupid book.”

“Actually, I was writing the two of us into the story.”

You’re sure he’s just pushing your buttons further - trying to lay another trap for you and capture you in another awkward moment of infatuation. But his words cause you to pause in your steps for a second.

“And what are we doing?” you question.

“We just cheated our way into heaven.”

“Creep,” you grumble before continuing to walk.

***

You hadn’t gone near that wine since. You had a grudge against it now, it completely ruined the mood last time you saw Zeke. But it had sure lightened the mood for everyone else, probably a little too much. Everyone except for Levi, of course. It was nearly impossible to change his mood.

In the meantime, you were still victim to unwarranted thoughts of Zeke in your head. This almost felt like a schoolgirl crush, how he bullied you a bit. This was more like torment, actually, considering you were trying to get him out of your head. But it didn’t change the fact that you liked what you saw.

Lately he was always reading that book and jotting down notes in it. And he rarely left his little corner of the campsite except for when he went on walks sometimes. You’d admire him from afar, careful never to let your eyes meet with his.

You’d take the images of him now burned into your brain back to bed with you, and stare up to the dark tent ceiling above. You’d fantasize about what it would have been like to meet Zeke in another life. One where the two of you weren’t enemies trapped on two different sides of a war. Where you didn’t feel guilt for your interest in someone who had jeopardized you and your comrades. Where the two of you were free to know one another.

You couldn’t pinpoint what kept driving this involuntary curiosity you felt towards him. It was tiring, honestly. But you wanted his company. Maybe you just wanted company in general -- it's not like you got along with him or anything.

Should you fix that? Did you even want to fix that? Would a peace offering be doing too much?

He did mention he wanted your glass of wine…

So one night, you cave. And you march over to the wooden cart that held dozens of cases of wine, an empty glass for Zeke in hand. You’re shocked to see only four measly bottles remain, laying on their sides in the only wooden case left. You could have sworn the shipment was full only a few days ago, but this camp had been set up for weeks now. Everyone here must be just as bored as you were, and several times more thirsty.

You pry open a cork and pour a few inches of wine into the glass, stopping to waft the crisp aroma into your nose. The air tonight was crisp too, it was cooler than it had been in recent days. You were adamant about remembering a jacket this time. The journey to Zeke’s tent feels long under the moonless sky. Hesitancy, followed by regret, pools into your brain as the dim light from his campfire comes into view.

Grow some balls, you’re convincing yourself that all of this means more than it really does. You’re bringing him a glass of wine for God’s sake.

There’s still time to turn around though… you could just finish the glass on your own. Out of range for him to bully you for it.

But he’s sitting there so prettily. He has his boots up on the rocks surrounding the fire pit, careful not to burn their soles in the flames. His blonde locks are pushed back slightly, giving you more room to look at his smooth face. And he’s certainly not busy, just reading his old book. Maybe he still had some compliments left for you despite all the bickering you two had done. Maybe he-

“Haven’t tried any of that ‘shitty’ wine yet, have you?” he questions. You hadn’t even noticed how close you are to him now. You’d gotten lost in him on the way.

“No…” you grumble, “it's for you. A peace offering.”

You stick your hand out. He receives the glass, lifting it up to examine it before taking a big drink.

“Ah,” he breathes, clearly satisfied. “It’s disgusting, Captain. Really.”

You stifle a laugh. “Everyone else seems to think so too. It’s all nearly gone.”

“Hmm,” he says, taking another sip, “None for you, I guess. Might as well just let it run out.”

“I think I will,” you mock, turning away from him to go sit in your chair,

The sizable fire Zeke had put together tonight was quick to thaw the chills on your arms. You really didn’t need your jacket after all, and opted to lay it over the back of your chair. The two of you sit there in silence for a while, taking in each other’s presence, observing the dying light in the forest.

Zeke looks at you eventually. Your eyes instinctually dart away.

“What made you want to come see me again?” Zeke asks.

You frantically search for an answer. You need to be careful.

“Boredom,” you reply flatly.

“You think so?” His attitude is back to how it was the first night you’d met. He’s engaged, focused, yet comes off so casual laying back up against his seat like that. He enjoys toying with you, like a cat to its prey.

Be careful.

“Don’t like my answer or something?”

That wasn’t exactly careful.

“No. You’re just not being honest.” He breathes that last word out like he needs to get a rise out of you, then he nonchalantly takes another drink while he waits for you to respond. Your mouth is open the slightest bit; you’re nervous, angry. He’s in your head now. He was reading you like that overused book of his.

“Then what do you want to hear from me?” you question. There’s thankfully still a false calmness in your voice.

“Just the truth. It’s not that complicated.”

You were sweating in front of this fire now. What was the truth? That you were interested in him? That you wanted nothing to do with him?

Be honest.

“I guess I just like your company,” you admit. Your eyes fall to the rocks lining the fire pit.

***

The discussion became pleasant after that, surprisingly. You guess you just needed to own up to how you felt. Your admittance caused some of the anger and tension tugging between the two of you to subside. The conversation was calm, collected, bouncing around from subject to subject: from the book, to life in Marley, to life in Paradis, to your occupation, and back to the book. Most of it was uneventful, but you liked that. It made it easy to pretend you were talking to him on the first night again, before you found out who he really was.

You left his camp with a giddy smile on your face. You’re on your way back to your tent now, after saying your goodbyes to Zeke. It was late, and you needed to be up early to have an important conversation with Levi. And god forbid he found out about any of this business between you and Zeke. Even though nothing was serious, it would come off unprofessional. And rightfully so.

You’re so lost in thought by the time you’re opening your tent door that you didn’t realize your arms were cold. The jacket you brought was probably still hanging off the chair at Zekes fire pit. It would look suspicious if you left it there and one of the other soldiers happened to see it.

You go back quietly, careful not to let anyone hear your footsteps. A couple of scattered thoughts weave their way into your head on your journey - what if this was another ploy of his? An attempt to get you back where he wants you, this time late at night. But how could it be? You were the one who left your jacket there. If anything, this was your own attempt to lead yourself back to him. Did you want him that badly… deep down?

When you reach your chair, you find it to be empty. You check around its sides, back, and underside - no jacket in sight. Out of the corner of your eye, a sliver of light shows from under the tarp serving as Zeke’s tent door. He’d probably noticed it and taken it inside with him after you’d gone home.

Halfheartedly, you meander to the tent door. You tap on it once the limited glimmer of light from inside touches the toes of your boots.

“Zeke? Do you have my jacket?” you whisper, still flicking the tarp to get his attention.

No answer.

Cold air stings your exposed skin as a draft swoops down through the camp. You also were wary of any observers that happened to be out this late at night. There was no telling what it looked like you might be doing outside his tent at the moment. The more uncomfortable you became out here, the more impatient you got.

“Zeke!” you hiss, whipping your head around your shoulder to double check your surroundings.

Still nothing but silence on the other side. Had he fallen asleep already?

The urge to pull back the tent door hits you. It would only take a moment to retrieve the jacket, then you’d be on your way.

Once again, making this a bigger deal than it really is.

But that didn’t matter. It felt like a big deal. That’s what every situation that involved him felt like. A big, complicated, multidimensional deal.

Be careful.

That wasn’t the answer either. Being careful was a good tactic when it came to strategizing your next moves in war. It was sometimes rendered useless when dealing with love. This was out of your control. And that was ok. That was what compelled you toward him - the mystery, the rush.

Let go.

You grip the tarp, it crinkles under your stiff fingers as you pull it back. A rush of warm air hits you, along with the light of a few oil lamps. And Zeke… shirtless. Sitting on his unmade bed with your jacket in hand.

The sight of his sculpted body in front of you sets a nervous, unprepared spark off in you, causing you to shut the door fast and stumble inside. And all at once, there you were - back in Zeke’s grasp. You accepted that wanted to be there.

“My jacket... ” you say, staring hard at the fabric in his hands, trying to avoid eye contact with his bare chest.

He stands up in silence and comes to your side, raising the jacket up once he gets real close to you. Oh no, he’s draping it over your shoulders again, slowly this time around, taking his time to stare into your puppy dog eyes. Dammit - the hot cheeks, the butterflies, the embarrassment. All of it was back now, in an instant he had you feeling like puddy in his hands. The two of you stare at each other as his hands adjust the jacket around you, stopping to play with one of the buttons on the front.

“You’re forgetful,” he mumbles, still focused on the button on your chest. His tone is sweet and quiet, a small smile appears out of one corner of his mouth.

You weren’t breathing, or thinking. Just looking down innocently at the hand that was so close to you.

“I’m not… normally,” you say quietly.

Zeke’s hands move to grip each side of the front of your jacket gently. His eyes move up from the hands placed on your jacket, and back to you. To your lips. You part them at the realization, swallowing the lump that suddenly appeared in your throat.

He shifts further in towards you, tugging on your jacket the slightest bit.

One cohesive thought rises up in the blankness of your brain. You want to kiss him.

The urge was mutual. Your lashes flutter against your cheeks a few times before you shut them, turning your head slightly to the right. Zeke follows your lead. You feel warm fingertips touch your chin and guide you to his soft pair of lips. His other hand abandons your jacket and comes down to meet your waist, slowly sliding to the small of your back. You melt into his touch, pulling yourself in closer. Chills go down your neck at the sensation of being in his arms, at his mercy. It feels so right, so warm and gentle. You want to keep going - so bad. You want him to hold you, touch you, kiss you harder.

But only for a moment.

You pull away once the guilt hits your core, gently touching your fingers to your lips.

Zeke stares at you, his eyes a bit wider than normal. His arms have gone limp at his sides without having you to occupy them any longer. You can tell there’s something on the tip of his tongue, something that might save the situation and bring your lips back to his. You didn’t want to hear it.

“It’s wrong. This is all wrong,” you say, backing up into the tent door behind you.

You think of the war. You think of your duties. You think of who Zeke really is. Any fluttering in your stomach was gone now, instead it was filled by tinges of regret.

“You’re right. It is,” he responds. He walks back over to his bed and sits on the quilt ruffled at its end. He runs a hand through his hair as he turns his head away from you. “I figured you’d be smart enough not to kiss back.”

You were almost too shocked to notice how much his words burned. Your mouth hangs open as your eyes squint at him a bit. Emotion courses through you as your mind crashes down from the high you were just on. You needed out of this tent.

You grip the tarp resting against your back and fling it open. You felt lost, speed walking away from Zeke’s tent and toward the center of camp. The night concealed the confusion on your face, but only for a minute. A fire glows near your tent, lighting up your surroundings - its Levi. You try your best to avoid him, changing your course to avoid his eyes.

“What are you doing awake, Reader,” Levi questions dully.

You don’t let out any response other than stopping in your tracks.

“Is everything... alright?”

“I just,” you search for anything appropriate, any excuse for your apparent distress, “don’t like being in this forest.”

You both go quiet for a moment, listening to the snapping of thin branches in the fire.

Levi breaks the silence, “That’s actually what I was going to mention to you tomorrow. The MP’s need you for something. I was going to give you the choice to go back, or stay here.”

Going back. Maybe that was the right answer you’d tried so hard to find.

***

You shove all of your belongings into your suitcase early the next morning. It didn’t take you long to decide you needed to abandon this mission. Nothing between you and Zeke would ever work out, and your feelings for him were only a burden to everyone here, and yourself.

You lug your bags to a horse and cart that had been set up for you, tossing them over the cart’s walls and into the back.

Climbing up into the front seat, you notice a gift waiting for you - that overused book. Zeke must have finally figured out how to fake his way into heaven.

You decided to read some of it on the way back.

Zeke sure had written his own story inside of it. All of the notes he’d scribbled in the margins were in another language, presumably from Marley - a secret story you’d never get to understand. Only for him to know.

***

You heard news of what happened in the forest a few days after you arrived home. You couldn’t process it at first, instead you just sat in disbelief and denial. Then the ‘what ifs’ set in. What if you had stayed? Maybe you could have stopped Zeke from doing all the damage he decided to cause. The tear-filled anger set in after that.

There was only one chapter of his book left now. You felt disgusted looking at it, a reminder of everything you’d felt for him. You needed to sit yourself down and get through it so you could finally throw it away - and finally forget about him forever.

You come to the final page. It was intended to be blank, a sort of protectant between the ink on the last page and the back cover. But instead, there’s a penciled in note. From Zeke.

His writing in your language was messy and shaky. You assumed he could read in your language, but may not be practiced in writing in it. This was probably the first message he’d ever written in it. All for you.

—

Dear Captain Reader,

I tend to avoid feeling guilty for much. I probably won’t feel guilty for everything I’m about to do to your soldiers in this forest.

I did feel guilty, however, when I saw your beautiful face that night you found me alone in the forest. And then I realized you were caring, brilliant, and a strategist that was far smarter than I was.

Well, this was my attempt at strategizing.

Pulling you in and then pushing you away. I hoped the guilt and confusion would make you leave. Make you think you were unfit for the assignment, too distracted by me. Heartbroken, even. Anything to get you out of here.

Now, I’m not too sure there will be anyone to rescue you. I won’t be able to again. Take care of yourself. Stay sharp.

I hope you enjoyed the book. I was really never a fan of the ending.

Zeke

—

Author's Note:

Dear anon: You gave me a lottt of free rein with this one, so I hope it was ok ●﹏● (and not too angsty and complicated lol. You said they kinda hate each other but theres chemistry and I just ran with it. Oopsies.) This was one of my favorite fics to write, ever, I think! I had a lot of fun with the dialogue especially. Thanks so much for the request, and thanks to everyone else for reading! Lots of love - Shep :)

[hangovercurse]

Nothing

Part i of the Without You series: When Colson and Megan break up, the boys count on Y/N to piece Colson back together, which only leads to disaster.

Colson x Reader

Warnings: Colson being kind of a dick, cursing, a little bit of aggression/ violence. This one’s definitely angsty.

A/N: This was supposed to be just a one part fic. Then that turned into 2 parts. And then 3. And then all of a sudden I had written 5 parts and over 10,000 words. Enjoy 😊 (also this is v unedited so if you see a mistake... mind ya business)

Word Count: 2084

| ii | iii | iv | v | vi |

masterlist

When you got the text from Rook, you knew it was probably gonna be bad. 

Megan just left him, for good. Not gonna be pretty the next few days so maybe don’t come by anytime soon. 

Your heart broke for your best friend. Colson had been really in love with Megan. And as much as you hated seeing them together for your own personal reasons, you could tell he was really happy. 

Ok. Let me know if you guys need me. If it gets bad I can take Casie for a few days. Take care of him for me pls. 

You and Colson had been friends for years now. You knew almost everything about each other, you told him everything. He let you crash at his place after your ex kicked you out, and you had spent many hours curled up with him, watching stupid movies to distract him from his most recent breakup or mental breakdown. 

But this was different. Colson told you he wanted to marry her at some point, and you knew he wasn’t lying. And you couldn’t blame him. As much as you hated no longer being the only women (other than Casie) in his life, you couldn’t dislike Megan. She was just one of those people who everyone loved. 

The thought of texting Colson crossed your mind, but you weren’t sure if it would hurt or help. From the sound of it, he was a wreck.

So, naturally, you texted Pete. 

Have you talked to Cols yet?

With Colson came Pete, or came you, you weren’t really sure. Somewhere along the way you and Pete had become close friends. He was like the older brother you’d never asked for, and he would probably say something similar about you. 

You couldn’t really explain it, Pete could read you like a book. And because of that, he knew everything. He was the only one to catch on to the way you sometimes looked at Colson for too long, or got irritated when he’d bring a new girl around. 

I’m heading over there right now. You should talk to him.

You rolled your eyes.

Not sure that’s the best idea. You guys are better at handling... all that. Once he gets a little less angry then I’ll take him. 

Pete texted you back a few minutes later.

Thanks for the support, kid. I’ll keep you updated. Just pulled in.

Good luck, Petey.

You tossed your phone on your bed, a sigh leaving your lips. You decided worrying was a problem for another day.

No more than 12 hours later you were getting a phone call from Rook. 

“Dude it’s like 4 in the morning, why are you calling me.” 

“Y/N, we’ve tried everything. He’s locked up in his room and every time one of us tries to talk to him he blows up. Literally he almost punched Slim a few hours ago.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, groaning at the predicament. “So now you want me to come over?” You asked, “What do you think I’m gonna be able to do?”

“Well he’s not gonna try and hit you for one. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but he’s significantly nicer to you than to anyone else.”

“What do I even say to him? “Sorry that the love of your life broke up with you but at least we can smoke pot and watch Spongebob?” I mean come on, man. I’m not good at this.”

“Please.” He pleaded, “We’re all out of options and I can’t stand to see him get any worse than he is.”

You moved off your bed and towards your dresser. “Fine, I’ll be there in 15.” 

You threw on the first pair of sweatpants you could find and slipped on shoes, grabbing your key and heading out the door.

True to your word, you pulled up to the house 15 minutes later, parking on the side of the street and heading straight into the house. When the guys saw you, they visibly brightened up. 

“You guys are such fucking wimps.” You rolled your eyes as you made your way towards the stairs. 

Baze chuckled, “We love you Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes and continued on your way, stopping by Casie’s room to see if she was asleep. To your surprise, she wasn’t. 

“Hey sweet girl,” you whispered as you entered her room, “why are you still up?”

She smiled a little when she saw you. “Couldn’t sleep. I’m really worried about Dad.” 

You leaned on her doorframe, sending her a sad smile. “I am too. But he’ll be okay. Your dad’s pretty tough.”

“I know,” she sighed, “but he really liked Megan.”

“Did you?” You ask, trying to gauge her emotions. 

“I mean, I guess so. She was nice to me. Most of his girlfriends aren’t that nice to me.” 

“That’s a pretty shitty way to measure if you like someone or not.” She giggles at that. “Don’t tell your dad I said that word in front of you.”

“Ok. She was nice. And she made him happy so, yeah, I guess I liked her. Not as much as I like you but...” Casie’s voice got higher as she dragged out the last word and you just rolled your eyes with a chuckle. 

Casie had this fantasy of you and Colson getting married one day, but you always told her it would never happen. 

“Ok kiddo, whatever you say.” You teased her, “try and get some sleep, okay?” 

She nodded with a smile. “Are you gonna go talk to Dad?”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you later, okay? If you need to come over and talk or stay the night or anything just call me, okay?”

“Okay. Love you.” She said quietly. 

“Love you too, Case.”

You shut the door to her room, moving down the hallway to Colson’s door. You took a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare for what was about to happen, and knocked. 

“I told you guys to go the fuck away.” A muffled yet angry voice said from the opposite side of the door.

“It’s me, Cols. Y/N.” You said, hoping he could hear you. 

When you got no response you asked, “Can I come in?” 

A few more seconds of silence followed, and then the lock clicked and the door opened. You stood face-to-face with your best friend. His hair was a mess, falling in his face. The bags under his eyes were darker than ever, and the frown he wore made him look even more pathetic. You felt your heart breaking. 

As you met his eyes, you gave him a sad smile. “Hey Cols.” 

Instead of responding, he wrapped his arms around you, leaning down and resting his head on your shoulder. You reached up and ran your fingers through his hair. 

He started walking backwards, pulling you with him as he continued to hug you. One of his hands pushed the door shut and he sat on his bed, finally letting go of you. 

You looked down at him, grabbing his hand and holding it in your own. It was something you had done before, you two were very touchy people and so half of your friendship was just you two cuddling or play fighting or holding hands.

“So we can do one of three things,” you started, “We can talk about it, we can cuddle and watch something stupid and pretend nothing’s wrong, or we can get high and do something stupid.”

For the first time in what you would imagine to be all night, Colson smiled. it was a very small smile, but you took it. 

He looked up at you through his eyelashes. “And by stupid you mean...”

You rolled your eyes, “I mean we can go set off bottle rockets in the backyard or try to jump off your roof and into the pool.” 

“Oh damn. I was hoping you were gonna say you would suck my dick.” 

Your eyes widened at his bluntness and the implication. You shoved his shoulder, “Colson! That’s gross!” You giggled, but his expression was unwaveringly serious. 

“I’m being serious.” He deadpanned and you furrowed your eyebrows. 

“Colson what the fuck?” Your mind was spinning trying to figure out if he was joking. 

You got your answer when he stood up, grabbing your waist and leaning over you. “I thought you’d want to...” 

You took in a breath at the sudden proximity, trying to back away from him but his grip remaining firmly on your waist. “Colson, stop. Please. This isn’t funny.” 

You could smell the alcohol on his breath and you had to keep reminding yourself of that fact. He’s drunk, and sad, and doesn’t know what he’s saying. 

“I thought you’d want to, cause it’ll make me happy. And you’ll do anything to make me happy.” One of his hands reached up and grabbed your jaw, making sure you couldn’t look away.

“Colson you’re being a fucking weirdo, let me go.” You raised your voice. Your heart was racing at this point and the thoughts flowing around your head were not pretty. 

You were always anxious for the day he’d figure you out. When he’d finally realize how you felt for him. But this was worse than anything you’d thought of. 

“You’ll do anything to make me happy because you love me, right?” 

You felt tears stinging in your eyes, wanting nothing more but to look away from his sinister expression. The way he was looking at you made it very clear that he was enjoying your discomfort, your embarrassment. 

“Colso-” 

He walked forwards, pushing you gently against the wall. His arms went to either side of you, his face inches from yours. You tried to look away, but his hand on your jaw forced you to face him.

Any other time you would have loved for Colson to pin you against his wall, but this was wrong. 

“Just say it. Say you’re in love with me, and I’ll drop it.” 

“Colson, what the fuck are you on right now?” You tried to steer the topic away from you, but he wouldn’t have it. 

“Say it.” 

You reached up to try and push his chest away from you, but he was much taller and stronger than you, so you did nothing. 

“Just tell me!” He yelled at your silence. A tear slipped down your cheek as you trembled under him. His face was red and his eyes were watering. 

 “Why are you doing this?” You whispered. This all felt like a bad dream, like a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. 

“Because I need to know if she was right.” His voice got a little quieter, but he still wouldn’t move away from you. “I need to know if the reason the love of my fucking life just left me is true.”

You were shaking, your breaths getting shorter. “What are you talking about.” Your words were choked. The grip on your jaw started to get a little too tight.

“I defended you!” He yelled, tears falling from his face. “She told me that you were in love with me and I defended you.”

“Colson you’re hurting me.” You whined, trying to wriggle your way out of his grasp. He ignored your statement and continued talking, but his grip loosened slightly.

“And then she told me that she thinks I’m in love with you.” His voice was getting darker. “And that’s why she left. So I want to make it very clear to you.” He paused, leaning closer to your ear. “I will never love you. Ever. Not now, not in a million lifetimes. You mean nothing to me.”

Your vision was blurry from your tears, so you blindly reached out to push him away from you. His body seemed to have given up, as he moved backwards out of your way, stumbling slightly. Through your tears you could make out a smug smile on the man before you ran out of the room, slamming the door behind you.

You ran down the stairs, the guys waiting for you to give them good news, but their hope turned to concern once they saw you. You walked straight past them towards the door, not trusting yourself to say anything without breaking completely.

As you reached for the door handle you heard a faint yell from upstairs, followed by loud banging, and then silence. You sniffled, turning the handle and leaving the house, much to the protest of your friends.

[leggomylino]

Sunrise | Hwang Hyunjin

 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Genre: Angst, Romance, Drama, Comedy

AU: Beauty and the Beast au

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x fem!reader

Word Count: ~26k

Warning(s): Minorly dark themes, vague mentions of suicide, sparse censored language

A/N: It’s finally done! <3 | For Kumi, my dear friend. <3

Playlist:

Lighthouse → Hope

forever rain → RM

Tag List: @hanniiesuckle17​ @distrikt9​ @hanstagrams​ @hyunsunq​ @smolboiseavey​ (let me know if you want to be added!)

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ 

  .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

| Zero ❧

It was no lie that Hwang Hyunjin was what he was. A monster. A crook. A fiend. 

But had that been his fault? No. Had it been his intention to piss off the old hag who showed up at his doorstep looking for shelter, who also happened to be a witch?

...Well, yes, technically. But in his defense, he hadn’t known she’d been a witch. He just assumed she was another ex-royal his father’s company had put out of business, bankrupt and seeking reconciliation. Another pawn knocked off the chess board. 

So then was any of this really his fault? 

Not in the slightest.

Late November was when colorful bouts of leaves piled in the corners and around the front doors of Everain Palace, when icy winds took hold from north arctic fronts and chilled all those who inhabited it to the bone, or at least, those unfortunate enough to end up imprisoned in the steely corridors below. Dank, gray shadows fell over the surrounding dark atmosphere of the cold stone walls, seeping in elongated coverage that fell over the once festering city of New Amber, now reduced to nothing but a sickly small town until the return of the harvest season. If anyone even bothered coming back.

It was no secret why no one ever wanted to come back. Everyone knew about the curse. Rumors spread fast, and as the head of his father’s company Hyunjin couldn’t hide his scarred face forever. Afraid of becoming infected, afraid it would spread, half of the town vanished within the first few days. Another half of what was left disappeared over the course of the following two weeks, and the number of residents continued to dwindle even after that, until Hyunjin couldn’t even tell you how many remained as of today, six years later. Ten, maybe twelve royals, some small groups of peasants temporarily settling in until they too were told about the curse, and the dark secrets of the young man who lived beyond its walls.

He was once beautiful until he ticked off the wrong old lady. Now he lives out his days staring at a reflection of who he once was.

The part he hated the most was that he couldn’t deny it was the truth.

“Mirror!” he called, clapping his hands once, twice, three times. “Where is my mirror?! Where the hell did you put it this time?!?”

Begrudgingly with a sigh a shadow cascaded down along the stone wall, manifesting into something three-dimensional only a moment later. Blue hair fluttered softly around smooth, rounded features, a lone earring sparkling faintly in the pale moonlight, accentuating ripped jeans and the confines of a pitch-black hoodie. 

The whole ensemble was tacky and incredibly outdated. “Here…” His shadow said, holding out the small ornate mirror. His contractor grabbed it with anxious greedy hands, claws already beginning to form far too early thanks to the autumn equinox.

He paced away eagerly, collapsing to his corner of comforting feather downs and soft silk sheets, as he stared at a reflection of who he once was, who he used to be. How he would look today had he just pretended not to be home that ill-fated night.

“Jisung!” He barked, glaring angrily over his shoulder. “Come here.”

The boy-shadow sighed once more, nodding slowly as he had no right to refuse the man who had complete control over him. So he slowly sulked over toward the bed, shimmering at the seams as he passed through the inanimate threshold like a waking dream. Carefully his edges began to dissolve, bit by bit, until nothing but a faint air of smoke remained, settling dispersedly around the dim-lit bedroom.

Hyunjin never took his eyes off his past-in-the-present self, who only stared back at him with vacant, mournful eyes. “Show her to me.” he demanded, gently leaning a few inches forward. “Where is she?”

With careful swirls like a rippling tide the mirror faltered, spiraling and transforming the glass picture until the prince’s face was gone, the image of a girl taking his place.

Then another one. Then another one…

The mirror suddenly cracked. His hands tightened around the steel handle, a low growl resonating from behind parted lips curled up in a snarl.

“I’m sorry…” the mirror muttered, Jisung suddenly appearing out of the cracks to stand before him. “She’s still not here. I don’t know what you want me to do abo--”

“I don’t want you to do anything!” Hyunjin snapped, throwing down the mirror and shattering it into a million more pieces. “I just want her here! What’s taking her so long? Where is she?!”

“I--” Jisung winced as a few stray shards transpired through him, the feeling still foreign even after all these years and past mirrors similarly broken. “...I think these things just take time--”

“Time?! TIME?!?” Hyunjin was beyond livid. The moment he stood his servant shrunk back, nearly folding himself into the safe confinements of the old chiseled walls. “Time is something I don’t have. You know this, Jisung. If this goes on any longer I’ll…” His voice trailed off and he gulped, snatching a fistful of hair in his sharp dark claws. “...Why isn’t she here yet? What are you not telling me?”

“Telling you? Wha--”

“Shut up and answer me!” He demanded, slamming the boy against the wall. The poor guy would have sunken through had he, again, not been under such a binding spell. Instead the only thing he could do was resentfully comply, doing all he could to spitefully avoid eye contact. 

“I’m sorry, Hyunjin. I don’t know--”

“You’re working with her, aren’t you?” Hyunjin continued with narrowed eyes. He began to shake him, tightening his chokehold around the boy’s throat. 

Jisung gasped a bit, nails gritting against the echoing stone walls. “I-I really don’...” He tried to choke out. “...I really don’t know. I swear. Honest.”

“Lies.”

The tightening intensified. Jisung felt like he was nearly going to burst.

That’s when he’d gotten the idea.

“Y-You’re right! I lied! I know where she is!”

The moment he was let go Jisung gasped for breath, grateful as the heavy sinking feeling of doom left his vacant bones. Hyunjin blinked once, twice before narrowing his eyes again, taking a careful step back. 

“...I knew you were lying to me. Where is she?”

After holding up his hand for breath, his shadow slowly looked up from his knees, straightening and readjusting his strange, stretchy cufflinks of the hooded cloak he wore. “She’s lying dormant somewhere. I can get her for you.”

“Where?”

“Under...erm,” He awkwardly coughed. “...O-Over that way...out yonder.” 

Hyunjin didn’t seem very keen on the way his servant waved his hand dismissively in the random direction of “out yonder”; but it was a risk he was willing to take. He was desperate. Three more days and...and…

“Fine,” he answered at last, lavishly turning his cape away from him to pace towards the half-opened window. “You have until sunrise to bring her to me. I won’t wait a moment longer.”

“Wha?! But she--”

“Fine! Twenty-four hours. And you better return with the right one, or else.”

He gave a precise gaze over the slender curve of his princely shoulders, and that was all it took for his shadow to sink out of sight into the folds of stone-pressed cement below, the clouds blotting out the last rays of moonlight around them.

| One ❧

“Y/n~ Y/n, hurry up!! C’mon, we’re gonna be late!!”

“Yes, yes, I’m coming…”

Your friend Rei ran another ten yards ahead, impatiently stopping for the umpteenth time for your slow-leisurely pace to match up. “Uuuugh, c’mon already!”

“I said I’m coming…!”

...Sheesh. 

Autumn season. It was the time when the leaves changed their colors, one final requiem of individuality before fluttering away in the cool breeze, carried off somewhere to decompose and fall victim to the circle of life. It was also the time you and your friend Reiya, who you casually referred to as just Rei, spent all hours of the short-lived days travelling from village to town, in order to sell the wares of your fathers’ goods. They were both merchants, you see; it’s how the two of you had met, many years ago. But they were old now, the circle of life creeping up on them as well, and since all the men in your town were either taken or losers not worth your time, each of you vowed to take over the family business, carrying it wherever the wind decided.

...And anyway, neither of you were interested in the prospects of marriage; being tied down? And taking orders from some mustached buffoon? ...No thanks. It’s not that you hated the idea of settling down, just...not in your town. Not at your age. Not yet.

This way, things worked out well-- you and Rei got to travel the continent, avoiding arranged marriage and spending time in each other’s company selling your fathers’ wares and in turn, helping them out. They were free to enjoy a peaceful retirement while you added memories of wondrous places and escaped the evil clutches of a life tied down to a broomstick and a kitchen stove. It was perfect.

...Except for days like now, when you’d both woken up late and were at risk of losing a good place to set up shop. Your bad this time.

“Hurry up!!” Rei whined, doing her famous one-tap-two-step-hurry-up dance. The balls of her slippered feet hardly touched the stone pavement of the path leading to the city, her arms flapping like a chicken as she readjusted the triple-stacked backpack of goods from falling off her bony shoulders. “Let’s go let’s go let’s go!!”

“I told you, I’m coming!” You groaned, having been stuck with cart duty. It may have been nearly empty, but it sure didn’t feel like it. Normally it took two people to steer, in addition to horsepower by your trusted steed, Carrots, but unfortunately…

Carrots had too many carrots last night. And she wasn’t doing so well. 

It wasn’t serious, but it would be at least another few hours before she got it out of her system, so this blissfully unfortunate morning it was you and Rei having to wing it...with you having pulled the short end of the stick.

“Nnnneiiigh,” Carrots groaned from behind you. You gave her a gentle pat while trying your best to nudge the cart over the last hill. 

“It’s alright, girl. We’re almost there. Just a little farther.”

She let out a whine, almost seeming to nod in understanding.

“Ahh, hurry!” Rei called again, making haste for the city gate’s checkpoint line. All merchants and traveling businessmen (or women) were required to have their items evaluated and checked by city officials before being licensed a temporary warrant to sell.

When you made it to the top of the hill, already out of breath, you deflated-- then just about fell over when you saw how long the line was.

Oh man. This is all my fault. We shouldn’t have stayed up so late…

“You look like you could use a hand.”

You turned around to find a tall...ish, slender boy, with hair the color of chocolate and big, round eyes to match. A single silver earring hung from his right ear. “Oh, uh, that’s okay…”

“...Han,” he clarified, gripping one side of the cart. “Han Jisung. Just let me handle this. You should probably go help your friend; she looks like she’s about to fall over.”

You peered around the other side of the small wagon to see that, indeed, Rei was playing a game of balance, swaying a bit too far this way and that as she wobbled on flat calloused feet toward the back of the long line. But you? Leaving your father’s shop in a stranger’s hands? Even if it was in a populated area, and he did seem genuine…

“That’s okay.” You told him, grabbing tighter onto your side. “I can take it myself, I’m used to it. Thank you for the offer, though.”

“...” He blinked at you a moment, doing nothing at all but staring. Just when you were considering calling for Rei to come back, though, he laid off, tossing smooth hands in the air before shoving them in the front pocket of the strange cloak he wore. “Alright, alright. Didn’t mean to scare you or anything. If you insist, I’ll be on my way.”

He let go, and you felt the full weight of the cart pull your body downward, gravity affecting you in the worst way. ...Maybe…

“Um, hold on!” You shouted, and he stopped a quarter of the way down the hill, glancing up at you expectantly from over his left shoulder. Curse him. “Yeah?”

“...” You set your pride and suspicions aside. “...It would actually...well, I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to help. Just to the base of the hill.”

His eyes did the smiling for him, and was back at your side in seconds, taking the right flank while you managed Carrots and the left.

“Mind if I ask you something?” He pipped just steps later, eyes peering at you from over the cart as he jumped like a small puppy trying to see over a counter space. You groaned.

“I suppose I have no choice, so, sure. What is it?”

“Well…” He was beginning to mumble. “I know this may seem kind of sudden but, I have this...friend…”

“No.”

“Huh?”

The cart stopped rolling, delaying your schedule that much farther. “If this is headed where I think it is, I’m sorry but, I’m not interested. I’m very busy and I don’t have time for...love. Or a relationship. Other than the one I share with my customers.”

“Oh! No, no! Hahah…” Han had let go of the cart as well, scratching his cheek. “I-It’s not that! Nothing like that...I…”

His explanation was cut off by your sudden gasp, lunging forward to grab the cart as it started to descend down the steep slope. But it was too late; it slipped out of your grip like butter in a frying pan. “Oh no!”

The cart raced down the hill, gaining momentum and speed the farther it went. Crowds of people gasped as well, jumping and throwing themselves out of the speeding wagon’s path, until…

It reached the bottom, but it kept going. And it was headed right for Rei. 

Horror-stricken, you jolted, racing down whilst cupping your lips to scream out a warning call. “Rei! Look out!!”

Rei turned around. Her eyes widened.

But she remained unscathed. In the blink of an eye something dark and ink-like had raced over the pavement and grass fields; it manifested beneath the wheels, and the cart just...stopped.

“Rei!!” You cried, letting go of Carrots to plunder to her side. She’d fainted, but Han was there to catch her.

Han…

You stared him down nervously from the other side. “...How did you get here so fast?”

He carried your friend to the shade of the forest surrounding the city walls, others whispering and already beginning to spread gossip. You tried to block it out and ignore the intense stares and glaring from eighty-or-so business-competitors, following Rei’s limp body and coming to rest beside it, pulling her head into your lap. 

Though you were out of earshot, the whispering and curious eyes still followed you; so not good for business.

“Hey. I asked you something,” you said again, making sure to keep one eye on him, and one on the cart. “How did you get down there before I did? I didn’t even see you move.”

The strange boy didn’t say anything, save for laughing a bit. He then proceeded to ask you the oddest thing: “A man, or a beast...do you think we have a choice? On what we want to be?”

“What?” Your brow furrowed to form one solid unibrow. “Don’t ignore me. I asked you first. How did you get down there so quickly?”

Still, he refused to answer. “Technically, I asked you first. So you have to answer me.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” you replied, “but I will call for help if you don’t answer me right now.”

Seeing the anger on your face, the boy calling himself Han looked out into the near-distance, at the line steadily encouching forward and now forming a beeline around your abandoned shop. “Well, given that we are out of earshot...it’s not much of a threat, but...still,” he shrugged, almost to himself. “I suppose we wouldn’t want that.”

He set himself down criss cross applesauce, next to Rei’s spaghetti legs. You huffed, attempting to protectively heave her a smidge closer to you. “Alright, well, go on.”

He gave you the goofiest grin. “Well, it’s quite simple, really! I just swooped under the wagon, and jimmied the breaks! Worked like a charm!”

You frowned, not at all appeased with that answer. “You...jimmied the brakes?”

“Yep!”

“And it just...stopped.”

“That’s right.”

“...You dove beneath a speeding wagon and managed to attach yourself underneath?”

“That’s what it sounds like~”

“That’s what it sounds like?!”

“Look, we can point fingers all day at who-did-what, but if you don’t hurry and get back in line, you’re not gonna have any place at all to set up your little shop of knick knacks or...whatever it is that you sell. Is that a snow globe?” He asked, reaching for Rei’s bag. You swatted his hand away.

“...Fine, whatever. Thanks for saving her, I guess…”

“And?”

You pressed a kerchief from your pocket to Rei’s forehead, smoothing ebony locks from her face. “And?”

Han smiled. Again. “You gotta pay me back somehow, right?”

“For doing a good deed? Do I?” You scoffed. “And here I thought you were doing it just to be kind…”

“Well now you know~ ...I mean—“ He swallowed at the glare you gave him. “...What I mean is, I did do it. To be kind. But I’d love if it you could still pay me back by coming with me to—“

“I’m not going anywhere with you or your dumb friend, if that’s what you’re asking. Just save it for the birds.”

Rei was starting to stir, twitching slightly, her eyes squinting in and out of consciousness. You began patting her cheeks and calling her name, but unfortunately, she still wasn’t fully there yet. That, and the annoying man at the other side of her wasn’t finished. “I have a proposal for you,” he stated.

“A proposal?” You didn’t like the sound of that. “...I’m not interested. Look, I’ll just, give you something from my shop, and you can be on your merry way, okay? Here, what about that snow globe you were eyeing before?” You reached over Rei’s body, fishing it out and handing him the novelty. “Take it. It’s yours.”

The glass globe held the contents of a small gray castle, surrounded in a sea of red roses. Han took the globe from your hand, examining the structure and looking almost nostalgically somber as he watched the fake snow fall. “...Thank you, but it’s not what I want.”

“Then what do you want?” You groaned. “Look, just take whatever. I don’t care, it doesn’t matter. I have more important things to worry about right now.”

“...What I want,” Han said, ignoring that last part of your statement, “is for you to answer my question.”

“What? What quest— aah, I told you already, I’m not—!”

“A man, or a beast? As individuals, do we have a choice?”

The way he’d cut you off and stated his query so seriously made your head spin; it certainly caught you off guard, that was for sure. “...I’m sorry...I don’t understand the question.”

“Hmm…” Han thought. “...Imagine you were put under a...spell. A spell that turned you into a hideous monster, with fangs and claws and fur in places you’d never imagined...but it comes and goes, this curse of yours.” He tilted his head. “Are you still human? Or are you now a beast?”

Thoughts slowly circled your mind, not knowing what to think. You had no idea where any of this had come from, the only responses coming to mind countering questions: who is Han, what is he up to, why did he want to know what you thought of such a peculiar idea…

“Well?” He egged, leaning backwards.

“...I...I don’t know,” you confessed, listing your gaze aside. “I really have no idea where you got such a crazy idea from.”

“Okay...then let me ask you this. I’ll help you out.”

What? Help you out?

He leaned forward this time. “Do you think we have a choice? Is it possible to define ourselves as one or the other?”

“Well...yes, I would think so.” Your eyes met his, hoping that if you gave him an honest answer, perhaps he would leave. “We all have a choice— to be monsters, or men. It is not a matter of blood, or a spell, but a condition of the heart.”

You didn’t know it, as you’d turned away; but the moment those words left your parted lips, his eyes shone with the hope of a thousand suns, dawning the horizon after the longest winter storm. 

You’d turned away to shuffle for a bucket and some more handkerchiefs in Rei’s Bag of Wonders, holding out the bucket without turning your eyes away. “I changed my mind. Make yourself useful and get me some water from the nearby stream, or in town, whatever. Just—“

But when you cast your eyes back to where Han was sitting, he was gone.

| Two ❧

“You must have been having one hell of a dream to stay passed out for so long.”

“Ahaha…” Rei buried her fingers in her hair, entangling them in the sea of ebony that flowed behind her and came to a steady delta tied near the ends. “Sorry about that. It was like I wanted to wake up, but I just couldn’t. Like something...some kind of invisible wall was preventing me from doing so.”

“Hmm…”

The two of you had made it into town safely, with little trouble other than what you’d previously gone through with that strange boy, Han. After getting checked in and circling the shopping district three times, your luck finally began turning around when one of the vendors apparently felt ill and decided to turn in early; bad for him, but great for the two of you. The spot couldn’t have been more perfect, either: positioned right in the center of all the hustle and bustle, it attracted plenty of attention, and the moment you set up shop, customers came lining up at the window.

The two of you worked for hours to make up lost time, grinding your fingers to the bone, shuffling around each other to count coins, search for wares, and sign receipts of official purchase. By the time the lunch bell rang, you and Rei were about ready to fall over.

“I’m tired,” Rei moaned, collapsing to her knees and digging under the counter for your grocery supply. Woefully, her hand came back...empty. “Ah, we’re all out of bread! And apples…”

“What about that bag of trail mix you bought two days ago?” You asked while organizing receipts. Someone had to do it, and you knew Rei sure as heck wasn’t going to.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Carrots and I polished it off yesterday. ...Oh, carrots.” Her stomach growled right on cue, a forlorn sigh escaping dry lips. “...I’m so hungry...”

Something about that previous statement made you pause, inclining your head to the right in thought. …Carrots…Carrots…?

...Oh no. Oh hell’s bells, you’d completely forgotten about Carrots!

Without a moment to lose you dropped the stack of receipts you’d been tidying up onto the counter, hopping out of the wagon and running as fast as your boot-clad feet could take you. Your knees were still stiff and exhaustion weighed you down, but you couldn’t allow that to stop you. Not when that poor (dumb) horse was wandering and hopefully still waiting for you.

“Hey!” Rei yelled, her head leaning out the window. “Where are you going?! You forgot your coin purse!” She waved said object in the air, as if asking for a thief to come and swipe it. “I want lemons and some gum drops! I saw a candy shop about a block down!!”

“You can’t have candy for lunch!” You hollered back. “And I can’t right now, you’ll have to get lunch yourself today. There’s something I forgot.”

Her confused expression said everything else for her, but you didn’t have time to chat about lunch plans. You had to get that horse.

You ran with all your might (what little you had left) out of the shopping district, down three blocks, and past the city gate...that is, until a guard stopped you.

“Woooah there, little miss.” The man grabbed your arm, effectively pulling you backward; and he had quite the grip to boot. “I’m afraid you can’t just go hauling eighty out here like that. I’ll need to see some I.D.”

You cast anxiety-riddled eyes to the man, making sure each gesture showcased your anger. “What? To leave the city? ...But I’m leaving, not entering!” Your anxious gaze sought out into the trees, the pastures of bitter decay and spooky autumn silence where Carrots was last seen. “Please, I need to get out there. My horse is missing, I’m afraid I forgot about her after a...mishap...and ended up abandoning her. She’s sick, so I don’t have time to play games!”

“That’s all fine and dandy, ma’am, but rules are rules. Show me your I.D., please.”

“I…! …”

Reluctantly, you yanked your arm away, digging for…

...Nothing, because you’d forgotten your coin purse. The image of Rei waving it with pride and worry left a bitter taste in your mouth. And your vendor verification permit was left in the shop, as well. “...I don’t have any. My permit is with my co-partner, back in the shopping district.”

“Hm. Well, you’ll just have to go back and get it, then.”

“What?! I don’t have time for that!” You turned pleading eyes to the officer, prayerfully searching for understanding alongside a missing horse. “Please sir, she couldn’t have wandered very far. I’ll be right back! I’m only going--”

He shook his head. “Sorry miss, like I said, rules are rules. Because of the recent string of kidnappings, all residents and visitors alike are required to provide valid identification before coming in or leaving city walls. Mayor’s orders.”

You’d been thinking about making a run for it or finding another guard to reason with until the word kidnappings made its way into the conversation. Normally you would have been curious and not too concerned...however… 

...That’s considering you heard it from a local paper floating in the breeze, or along the gossiping grapevine from one vendor to another, one chatty socialite to the next whispering to each other among the lively bustle of city life. Why were you just now hearing about it here? From an officer? How long had this been going on?

In all the questioning silence, you basically forgot about...what was it you were looking for again? “Um, forgive me for prying, but...kidnappings?”

“...E-Er...that’s...” The officer flinched, taking a half step back. “...Um...well...dammit all…” He removed his thick uniform hat, scratching his head a moment before readjusting it to fit tall and proud. He cleared his throat. “...Please forget I said anything. If you wish to leave the city, I’ll need to see some valid I.D.”

“......”

He simply stood there, pretending as if nothing had happened. The only proof you had was the sweat swimming along his forehead, but surely he’d blame that on the nonexistent autumn heat and the fullness of his uniform.

You had no choice but to reenter the masses.

- ❧ -

When you return to the gates, the same officer approved of your vending license (still sweating from that “autumn heat,”) signalling for the men in the tower to let you through. It was late afternoon now, the skyline growing dangerously close to dusk; when you’d returned to shop a while earlier, you couldn’t admit to Rei that you’d lost her best friend next to you (though some friend she was having no idea about the whole thing...), so you were left with little choice but to play along and have lunch until it was time to work again. The late-day crowds were always far less stressful than morning shifts, so confident she would be fine on her own you took back off for the South entrance the moment the work bell rang.

“Carrots...Carrots...looking for a food-poisoned horse…”

Sigh. The words were a groan from your lips as you trudged about a floor of dead leaves and twisted bare tree branches. The skyline was starting to wear thin, every step you took noisy and either resulting in startling a field mouse or alerting a wandering bear out of hibernation of your whereabouts. Not an ideal situation to be in.

I’ve been wandering these woods for three hours now. Dang it, where is she?! ...Normally, Carrots was a good horse; she followed you around, did as told, and when you did lose her (...as this wasn’t the first time…) she stayed put and waited for you to return; like that time in Cresentmoon Harbor (for it was literally shaped like a crescent), when you and Rei had been so distracted by some dashingly handsome fisherman named Minhee and wanted to hear his tales of the rough blue sea that you’d, yes, left your horse astray, where a group of thugs almost snatched her. 

That had actually been a fun day, watching Rei throw apples and trinkets and club the ringleader with his own beatstick. This time, however, you’d known exactly where you left her. You were sure there were no gangs or thugs near a place like this; not a clean-cut, safeguarded place like Westwind...any yet, Carrots hadn’t been there. Not at the top of the hill where you left her, or beneath it, beside it, or anywhere nearby.

...Although...didn’t that cityguard mention something about kidnappings?!

That stupid horse. I knew I should have overruled Rei and named her Dumdum. She went and got herself kidnapped! URGH, I had to go pulling the short end of the stick today--

A sharp wind blew by without warning, causing you to shiver. Mournfully, you wondered if maybe you should turn back and enlist Rei’s help after all...have her summon back that courageous, beatstick-smacking frenzy… 

Oh, but how heartbroken she’d be to hear of Carrot's disappearance! ...It was all for naught, though... 

Carefully, you turned around and began walking the way you came, one step, then two...then stopped. Looking out into the moors, the forest beyond, the stretch of trees and forest decay that went on for miles and miles seemed...different, somehow. It went on for miles and miles and...miles and miles and miles. It didn’t seem to have an end.

I know I didn’t walk that far… Now now, Y/n. Can’t see the forest for the trees, hm? It’s no big deal, I just wandered a bit farther than I thought. I’ll start heading back now.

Because Rei was the fun-loving, clueless bubbly-type, you had to be the strong one (not including Wild, Pissed-Off Rei). You were the confident, analytical, and ambitious of the two. You prefered logic and data, and relied almost whole-heartedly on common sense, with few exceptions. And as any rational person of your nature would, you’d made sure to mark the entire way you’d come; so it was no big deal, wandering out a bit farther than you had intended. 

...Except...

...The first marker never came. Not after five minutes, not after ten. You walked in the opposite direction for precisely 1,000 steps and counting, and all that greeted you were the same exact scene of bare trees and dead leaves. In the same order. In the same tones and volumes and shapes.

It was going to start getting dark in the next two hours. You stopped, thinking. Running numbers. Fishing for data…...fishing…...fish…...Minhee...heheh…

No, no! Staying on track was crucial at a time like this…! 

But you ended up standing there, for another ten, twenty minutes maybe, not sure what to do. There was a strange vibe in the air, you could feel it. The way it wafted through the air and settled on your skin. Rattling your bones. It almost felt like it was bribing you in another direction. 

So you did an illogical thing unlike your nature: you kept walking straight ahead, ignoring it for as long as you could. But dammit, the scenery never changed! Not after an hour, not after two… 

You were tired at this point, collapsing hopelessly by the same tree you passed a hundred times...and then you got an idea, like a fog lifting from your brain (Why hadn’t you thought of this sooner?!). Grabbing a twig, you made a small notch in the tree. Then you took off running, jogging at a brisk pace. Never making a single right or left turn, not even in the slightest. Headed only one direction, following alongside the setting sun.

That same notch bid you a pleasant hello eight and a half minutes later. To make sure it wasn’t just a coincidence, you walked another eight and a half minutes; same notch, same place, same twig resting lifelessly to the right. Same tree.

It was getting dark now. Soon the sun would be completely gone over the horizon, tucked away for twelve hours of sleep before returning to shine light on a new day. And you had no horse to show for it; more importantly, you were lost. Trapped in some kind of...weird bermuda triangle of decaying forest with no sign of life anywhere. 

Great, just great. I hate my luck… wait… 

...Ah, yes. Conveniently, just when you’d thought to possibly scream out your frustrations into your work apron, rattling on about how much luck despises you, and how you despise her back, maybe shed a few tears since no one was around, a tower of billowing smoke caught your attention, a sign of life that hadn’t been there before. 

. . . 

You should have been more cautious. Normally, you would have been. But given recent events…

“Hello…?” You called softly, pushing the door open; though, let’s be honest, the door really seemed to just...open itself. “Is anybody here?”

The house was old and worn. A small cottage just big enough for one, it must have been at some point; now, it was practically all but decayed along with the surrounding forest. Another heap of dead wood and rotted roots among many. A faintly ripe and sickeningly sweet scent wafted about the torn chamber, wrapping around sagging furniture, torn drapes, and a half-caved roof that gave clear sight to the full moon, bulging and cackling in a clouded manner.

It was a stark contrast to the decrepit old woman beckoning you from within. 

“Yes, yes… Come in, my child.”

| Three ❧

A few hours earlier, Han Jisung had just been minding his own business, a faceless shadow of a dark hood browsing Westwind goods, humming a fiery tune, all while coming up with a plan for smuggling an innocent human girl into the cursed city of New Amber. He was pleasantly aware of the time; he had exactly ten hours left before he was due back at the palace, girl in tow, in order to keep his handsome blue-haired head and devilishly charming eyes.

He had time. The two cities may have been four hours apart on horseback, a diagonal stretch of twisted forest and steep valleys between them, but being a shadow he could just-- ...zip...and zig...and...zag...right beneath the… … … 

...He wouldn’t be returning alone. He was transporting a human girl. That had no magical curse or powers to speak. The only way to return was the old-fashioned way...which meant…

He only had half the time he thought he did. Balls.

Making his way through the afternoon crowds, he followed three winding back alleyways before making sure the coast was clear of wandering eyes, seeping into the broken cobblestone and dashing through history below, long forgotten structures and fossils of stories past: a mineshaft, a tavern sign, a snuffed-out bonfire. At just a block away he set out a brisk pace for where he last placed a tracking mark upon the one known as Rei.

It had been a simple plan; since Y/n was impossible to get near, he merely embedded a small tadpole of his shadowy spirit into the other. Since they traveled together, where one was found, the other wouldn’t be far behind. Find Rei, find Y/n.

But beside that fact, it was starting to itch; being without a part of him for too long caused an empty, nagging feeling to rise and fall through his bones like a waxing, waning tide, going back and forth, back and forth. It got downright maddening after a while, almost like an addiction, to the point where eventually, he couldn’t stand to be without himself any longer. If he wasn’t whole, what was he?

...For a shadow...being whole meant everything.

“I see you’re feeling better,” he greeted her, the girl whose life he very well saved. Rei turned around from her stockpile of cash, where she placed many bags of coins in the Candy For Me! ♫ pile and few in the Dumb Taxes :( pile.

“Oh, hey, I know you!” Her face lit up tenfold; an oddity given the fact she should have been unconscious for ninety-percent of their previous encounter... “You’re the guy that saved me before! I thought you looked familiar!”

She threw a tarp over the stacks of cash she’d been organizing before, as if that was going to...protect it, or something. She rested her chin in palm, elbows propped upon the counter space. Smiled.

“So what brings you by? What can I help you with? Oh,” she smirked, wagging a single brow. “Could I interest you in this love potion?” 

A bottle of perfume made its way between them from out of nowhere, dangling like mistletoe. It...Han couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of it. 

“You wouldn’t happen to be looking for Y/n by chance, would you~?” Rei asked.

The proposed bottle had the painted label scratched off, where the replaced paint job read Love Potion No.9, along with a price tag of thirty-five coins. Han chuckled, doing his best to play off the awkward gesture. He had to tear his eyes away from it.

“Thank you, but no,” he stated, gently lowering her arm to the table. The sliver of his missing portion swam back into him, through his fingertips and up his arm, and this didn’t seem to go unnoticed by Rei, though he distracted her into shrugging it off. “I actually am looking for Y/n, if you happen to know where she is? I suppose you’re right about that part, actually.”

“Oh? Really?!” Rei’s face lit tenfold...again. She squealed. “Eeeeek, I knew it! Oh, I just love when this happens!”

Her face thrust straight into his, nearly close enough to kiss. It startled him into backing distance. 

“What is it?!?” She cried excitedly. “What do you need to see her for?! Oh, please tell me it’s to exchange letters! Or trinkets!” She looked like the shadiest business woman ever in the next second. “Y/n may have said she was organizing paperwork, but I knew what was really going on. Tee-hee!”

“...Ahh…” ...Shoot, what the hell was he supposed to say?! This girl didn’t seem like the type to appreciate being let down... “...There’s something I…” He gulped. “There’s something I wish to show her. Before setting out, that is.”

“Oh…” Her frown encased her disappointment. “I see...well, actually…” She twirled a strand of sleek black hair away from her tan complexion. “Y/n left about an hour ago...no, it has to have been longer than that…” Her frown deepened, looking off into the distance. “She took off as soon as lunch ended, and she hasn’t come back yet. I think she said she was looking for something…? But…” 

Now she was looking down vacantly into the counterspace. There was a dull sheen in her eyes.

“...I’m starting to worry. Y/n never just runs off for hours on end like this. It’s not like her at all. ...What if something…”

Han put a stop to that thought: one, because he hated seeing girls cry, and two, because he could tell she was the messy-crier that would get snot and tissues everywhere, including his hair and earring; also there was three: his ass on a silver platter, courtesy of His Angry-Cursed-Forever Highness. If he failed to secure Y/n…

He didn’t wanna think about it. Which is why he swiftly set Rei upright, patting her shoulders and promising that he would go out and look for her. She couldn’t have wandered far, seeing as her whole livelihood was on the line (and in the hands of someone like Rei…whom he didn’t know that well, but still…)

“Can you give me an idea of where she may have gone? Which way did she go?”

“Yeah, sure! She went that way, and, oh yeah, she took our vending license with her! Do you think she could have gone to City Hall, maybe…?”

It was unlikely. City Hall was in the other direction, to the north-east; and according to Rei, Y/n had ventured south. The only thing there was lower-class common folk and the city gates, meaning the only conclusion he could come to was that she needed to verify her legitimacy in order to continue business, or she needed out.

After questioning some guards under a guise of glamour and shade (which was necessary for...private reasons), he was at last directed to a middle-aged man who claimed to have allowed the girl to leave some three to four hours ago. Before they could get an answer out of him as to why he wanted to know, Han vanished into the shadows like a thief in the night, slipping through the straying crowds towards the nearest alleyway, where he plopped down, zipped below, and popped right back up on the other side of the great city wall.

Removing his hood, he looked around, scanning the area for any clues of Y/n’s whereabouts. But, of course, nothing.

Dammit, it was getting late! It was already late!

Han bit his nails, fuming. Pacing. He was going to be in so much trouble if he didn’t…!

...Sigh. Screw it all. He’d just have to look for her. If he found her fast enough, he could come up with some plan to make it back to Everain before sunrise.

He began his search heading South, into the clamour of trees. Past one tree, two, five, twenty. Deeper and deeper he traveled, gradually becoming one with the earth and expanding his search among the elements. Beneath the earth, brushing against roots of trees and flowerbeds, he could “see” everything-- as far as a twelve mile radius. 

His shadowed extensions stretched over the land, covering all ground within reach like the hands of a clock, time traveling faster and faster until…!

...He found it. Er, her. His senses zoomed in on a house, caved in from years of age and resentment, crumbling to dust even now outside the confines of Y/n...and……someone else…

...Someone he knew.

Out of breath, he nearly choked in the enclosure of his own realm, eyes wide and heart frozen stiff. It took every last bit of strength to push himself free, for he couldn’t escape fast enough; not when a demonic witch like her was around. 

Except...he’d started to run the wrong way. And then he stopped entirely, unable to move.

He hated that decrepit old hag. After everything that happened...the magic, the sorrow, the black fires of hell...he wanted nothing to do with her. He’d sworn that the moment he saw her again, it would be too soon. The witch that had taken his humanity.

It was she who had cast them all to hell in a handbasket, after all.

Standing there beneath the blotted night, gentle caresses of wind cascading and percolating through strands of brown and blue, he looked down to his bare hands, setting focus to the rivets of small scars where rivers of shadow flooded his veins.

A knock at the door. A sneer. A warning glare.

He tightened his grip on the air, so free and billowing carelessly in contrast to him.

A push. A harsh remark. A confident smile.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Anger… Resentment… Fire…

And…then…

He gasped for air once more. Not now. Now was not the time to think. He needed to act, to push all of this past him. It was the only way to break the curse and save Hyunjin, and in return, himself. The entire palace of Everain— the whole city, perhaps— was counting on him.

...Shadow. The only thing I remember...is black.

 Cringing, he threw caution to the wind, where fear was meant to reside with the birds.

- ❧ -

The house was as old and vile as the woman who lived there. Vines snaked and slithered their way around the entire enclosure like a brood of thorned vipers, between cracks in the wall panels and over the steps leading to a gaping front door, just asking to trip its prey into it’s dark clutches. Into her clutches; those wrinkled leathered hands dripping with metaphorical blood and darkness.

Han hated all of it. He’d known about the Witch’s home for a long time, but he refused to ever step foot on her accursed soil (...until now, that is). The problem was, her biome was always changing, shifting and teleporting all over the place. Few unlucky souls who had survived to see it dubbed it Howl’s Moving Castle.

That title entirely ruined the book for him. Not that he particularly enjoyed reading, anyway; but he refused to lift it or so much as look at the book’s spine resting in the lavish, dusty library back home.

“Hey,” he called, marching right in. There wasn’t time for cold feet or second thoughts; if he didn’t have Y/n, there would be no point in going back. Returning without Y/n meant certain death via Hyunjin, but going through the Witch’s Biome meant likely death via whatever disdainful plot the Witch could come up with. At least facing the Witch’s path, he had a slim chance of making it out alive. If he were fast enough.

He’d thought about it on the way over: before, he had no powers to speak of. He’d been a regular, average teenage boy just trying to make it up and through adulthood, figuring out what he wanted to do with his life. But with the Witch’s curse, all that changed; he was essentially one with the darkness; and darkness was everywhere. Especially here. 

Assuming Y/n was conscious and able to move, he calculated that with high enough confidence and self-esteem, he should have no problem distracting the foul old hag long enough for his last hope to escape. (And Lord knew he had plenty of that to go around...)

Darkness clouded the entire room, choking out all light save for a few small rays of moonlight. The temperature seemed to be dropping 10 degrees every second. “Hello?” He tried again, checking left, right. “I...I know you’re here. Witch.” He was already beginning to seethe. “Come out. Where is Y/n?”

There was no response. Nothing creaked, no one croaked. Not even the wind outside made a sound.

Then something darted behind him, to the right, and he parried the opposite direction, biting his lower lip. Here it came. The worst part.

A single field mouse made its way into the faint slivers of rooftop moonlight. And there it sat, perched on its hind legs, whiskers twitching and tail dancing rhythmically across the uneven floor.

“How do you like?” came a creaky frail voice from beyond. Her voice was a sour note to his ears.

Han gritted his teeth, tasting blood on the horizon. “I’m not here to rate your latest experiments,” he spat. “That better not be Y/n. Show yourself, now.”

A lingering moment passed before the fleabag chuckled, stepping ancient bones into the small pool of light. “Alright, alright,” she said, in a mockingly chiding tone. “No need to get so angry. That’s what got your friend into so much trouble, after all. And look what it did to you.”

Two minutes in, and she was already hitting a nerve. Nerves that needed to remain untouched were his plan to go smoothly. “Don’t tell me what to do. I don’t take orders from you. You already ruined me. What more could you possibly do?”

A dark foreboding thought brewed up a storm in her eyes, just lingering on the edge of sanity. “Believe me,” she rasped, “I showed you both mercy.”

Han flinched. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to explode, yet cower in terror, all at once. He was livid, yet terrified-- anxious-- and a little sick to his stomach. “Give me Y/n. Right now. I didn’t come here to chat.”

The old woman smiled. “I can’t,” she simply stated, not moving an inch.

“Why not?!”

“Because you’re standing on her.”

Horrified, Han shot his gaze downward. Corsarn, he didn’t think he’d been standing on anything but the…!

But there was nothing but paled wooden planks. The Witch laughed. “Ahahah, not physically on her, dear. Though this house is so old, you may as well be...I’m surprised the floors haven’t caved in to match the roof.”

After holding her gaze a moment too long, he took a step back, flitting his eyes between Witch and supposedly underground wardrobe. “Open the door. Slowly.”

“Oh, so now I’m supposed to be taking your orders?” She scoffed, sighing at the end. “My, how times have changed…”

“Just do it!” he ordered.

The Witch gave a stern, slight scowl. “Oh, fine. I’m out of enough magic to put another curse on you anyway,” she muttered. Tapping her ancient walking stick once, twice upon the rotting floors, something clicked below, and the square space where Han had been standing swung open. “Just so you know,” she added, “I took the liberty of having a little fun, as you probably already guessed. She’ll be out for a few hours, but I don’t foresee death in her future; at least, not in the near one,” she chuckled.

“You--!” ...Rrgh. He still had to bite his tongue. His lip was already going to be busted and sore tomorrow. 

Trotting down steadily with caution, before the gaze of a putrid old smile he descended the hidden staircase, never once letting his guard down. The girl he sought was safely snoozing in one piece, lying like a waking dream...other than being unconscious.

He gathered her up, using shadow to cross the room, just in case a trap was lying dormant on the way over, and with Y/n in his arms, he almost thought about attempting to drag her into the Shadowworld with him, just so he didn’t have to face the old has-been again and make a clean getaway.

But it was too risky. And likely, it wouldn’t work; so carefully, he placed one nimble foot in front of the other, across the blank room, up the stairs, and into the familiar darkness from moments before. The Witch was still waiting for him, still as a statue in the exact location she had been. She followed him all the way to the door, tittering at his suspicion of the whole thing. 

She then watched as they made it off the porch. “Here,” she announced, sensing his urgency; for he’d just been about to make a run for it before she called him.

Nervously, he turned around halfway, holding Y/n tighter.

The bat continued her chuckling. She scooped down surprisingly swift, tossing something gray and furry into the air. It landed haphazardly onto his arm, clinging for dear life to his sleeve with a faint squeak! before scampering up to his shoulder. “Take him,” she said, making a shooing motion with her hand. “I have no need for the pitiful thing. He can keep you company on your way back.”

Company? Oh, no no no. He didn’t think so. He wasn’t stupid; Han knew of her tricks. The rat was probably a spy, or some kind of ticking time bomb. Forcefully, he shifted his grip on the girl, snatching the creature from its place--

...Except, he meant to throw it back. He did. He would have tossed the wretched thing to the ground and stomped on its brains without a second thought.

But it’d cried. Shrieked. Wailed. He knew the sound of terror when it howled.

Glancing up, he saw that it was crying. Actually crying.

Something was off. It had to be human...or at least, have some sort of intelligent wit.

Loosening his grip, he allowed the creature to squirm and wiggle its way free, scampering up his arm and tucking itself fearfully in the pouch of his hood with a nosedive. Sensations of trembling fell against his upper backside.

“Take care on your way home; you may need it.” 

A twisted smile. Tch.

Glowering amongst the laughter, he left the darkness behind him.

| Four ❧

“How may I assist you, dear?” The old woman asked.

Your eyes scanned the area, dilating and adjusting to the faint light. “I’m sorry,” you began, giving a small, polite bow. “I didn’t know anyone was home.”

“Oh, now, that’s alright~” The woman insisted, beckoning you farther in. “Come, come, sit! Make yourself a home. I’m the one who invited you in, yes?”

“...” Carefully you nodded, moving with caution to take a seat at the dusty worn table. 

“Now,” she said, popping joints as she settled across from you. “What can I do for you today?”

“...Do for me?”

She chuckled. “Yes, yes…” Her eyes were impenetrable, boring into yours. You had trouble looking away. “No one comes here without a purpose. There are no happy accidents.”

“......” Again, you found yourself hesitating, having trouble forming the right words. Words were becoming a limited resource all of a sudden. 

“Well~?” the woman pressed.

“...” You swallowed dryly. Something just wasn’t right; but who were you to lie to an old woman? In her own home, nonetheless. “I’m looking for someone...my horse, actually.”

“Hmm, I see…”

“She wandered off...well, no, that’s not true.” You sighed. “I left her by accident. I abandoned her without meaning to, out front of Westwind city. We’d woken up late, my friend and I, and in our hurry and a near-death experience thanks to someone, I ended up forgetting all about her. When I went back to fetch her and bring her home, she was gone.”

“Oh, my…” The old woman was still smiling. “That sounds like some adventure the two of you had! Though, tell me…” She tilted her head. “Who is this “someone” that got in your way?”

“Hm? Oh,” You sighed, again. “Some strange boy that just showed up out of nowhere and offered to help me move the cart downhill. He’s no one special.”

The woman chuckled. “Well, he must be to have stepped up and offered you assistance in this day and age,” she replied. “What was his name?”

There was an intensity you didn’t like. As if she were interrogating you for answers. 

Dryly, again, you swallowed.

“Han-something, I think. Han...Jisung.”

That’s when it had been over. But you hadn’t known that; not yet.

“Han Jisung…” The woman repeated. She was clearly searching the archives. 

Then she found what she was looking for, and curving crooked fingers skyward, she beckoned your hands to be placed atop of her on the table.

“Give me your hands, dear. I know just what it is that you need.”

If only you hadn’t listened to her… 

- ❧ -

You were no fool. You saw what the witch had done to you, just before falling unconscious.

Stirring now, you curled into the weight of something dark and soft, something sheltering and warm against the cold night air. Whatever it was held you tighter, the world slowing down.

“Y/n? Are you alright? Can you hear me?”

Ow. Yes.

One of the side-effects must have been a splitting headache…

“Yes...I can hear--”

Rrpt! Hold on a second. You knew that voice…!

In all haste you shot upright, only to collide foreheads with Han Jisung, the both of you growling in pain. Your headache just got ten times worse.

“Ow…! Sh*t, of all times and places…” After counting one, two Mississippis for the pounding to decrease, you sent him a glare, blurry vision mixed with clouded judgement. “What are you doing? What’s going on, where are you taking me?!”

The foolish boy snorted, ignoring you to continue walking. As your eyes cleared of drowsiness, you could see the two of you were alone, out in the middle of the forest. “A simple thank you wouldn’t hurt, y’know. I did just finish saving your life a few hours ago.”

“You…?” Hesitantly, you looked around again, pressing a hand to your forehead in feeble attempt to decrease anymore throbbing heartbeats. “...Where are we? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Put me down this instant.”

“You sure do ask a lot of questions for someone who was just cursed and knocked out.”

“I said, put me--! …” 

You paused. The whole world seemed to.

Carefully, slowly, you turned your face back towards the sunlight. “...Wh...What did you say?” 

Han snorted. Again. “You heard me. You waltzed right into the Witch’s Biome like an idiot, and now you’re one of us. I don’t know what I’m going to tell Hyunjin…”

...You’d stop listening towards the end. Everything just naturally tuned out, your eyes falling aimlessly to stare vacant holes into the dimensional rift of the traveling space around you. 

“In case you’re wondering,” Han’s voice cut through, calling for your attention once more. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m taking you to my friend; well, he’s really more of my...uhm…”

You waited vacantly for an answer.

“...Uhhh…”

You didn’t have time for this. Not that anything mattered or made sense anymore. Still, you weren’t going to idly sit here and listen to Tweedle Dee make dumb noises the rest of the night. “He’s what?” you pressed, aggravation clearly showing. “Is he your master or something?”

Han Jisung nearly dropped your hungover cursed arse. Which told you you were right, even if he kept insisting you were wrong. It was pretty funny to see him fuming and hot under the collar the rest of the walk.

Speaking of walking, you had fidgeted and demanded to walk by yourself, but after nine nos and a tenth yes, you found you had absolutely no strength in your wobbly, jelly-like legs. Resulting in Han carrying you like an unfortunate groom once more.

Yes, you’d argued for him to take you back. But no, he refused.

Which meant he had to be that kidnapper the city guard mentioned after all.

This lead you to be afraid, and rightly so; what if Han killed you?! What if he actually was dangerous, and he had been lying to you from the start. Nothing he’d been saying up until this point made sense anyway; and just look at the way he was dressed. Only crazy people wore such strange, unusual attire, so futuristic and bizzare-looking. 

And, you noticed, the closer you got to...wherever he was taking you...the more and more his appearance changed.

It was gradual, slow at first; just a random strand of hair, a speck of color in his eye that hadn’t been there before. Then, out of nowhere, it was like time sped up around him, and his eyes became a solid, bright blue, his hair a darker contrast, and that lone earring he wore shimmered with a paradoxical bright darkness, like shadows giving birth to light.

It was...insanity. Yet, regrettably, you had to admit he’d grown incredibly attractive. 

Han didn’t speak much the second half of your trip, and neither did you. You were too busy trying to process what was happening, and he was lost in his own world, eyes never leaving the road ahead except to occasionally check on you. It was a nonverbal communication: Are you still doing okay? / Yes, I’m fine. Quit staring at me. / Yeah, okay, you’re welcome.

About two hours later, the two of you arrived at the gates of an old, rustic castle, and a city that looked all but lost.

| Five ❧

Your headache had at last subsided by the time you arrived at Everain Palace. ...Or at least, that’s what the sign said it was called. You were barely able to read it through the layers of rust and vines, however. “This is the place?”

“Yep,” your entourage announced, setting you down beside him. “It’s been a few hours now, so you should have the strength to walk again, at least to your room. But I’m sure I can get some lackey somewhere to carry you the rest of the way if you can’t manage.”

“Hold on...what?”

“What?”

He finished setting you down, and you wobbled your way back a few steps, leaning against the gate’s archway for support. “I’m not staying here. I can’t. I have to get back to Rei and find Carrots, my stupid horse. Then, I’m renaming her Dumdum and we’re sweeping all of this under the rug.”

Instead of laughing, or perhaps getting a little angry even, Han Jisung stared at you with the most pitiful glance anyone had ever given another human soul. It was dreadful, but soft, somewhat loving, and oozing with regret.

And then he said those abysmal words you were scared of hearing all along.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. But I’m afraid you won’t be traveling anywhere anytime soon.”

You stared at him dumbfounded. This was it, you thought. The truth revealed. He really was a kidnapper; and now, you were his next victim. The whole charmingly dopey and idiotic act had been just that: an act. And you’d fallen for it.

So you did the next thing you could think of, seeing as fighting and running away were out of the question in your weak and disoriented state.

“KIDNAPPER!!!” You screamed. “THIEF! HUMAN TRAFFICKING!! HELP!!!”

But soon you remembered your surroundings, where you were at this time: a rundown city that appeared to have been abandoned for years, closed off in an eternal slumber. Everything was covered in vines and dust, and hardly anything made a sound.

You were doomed.

Han rushed over quick to keep your mouth shut while sweating at the seams, but a chomp to his hand did him right good, and while he was bouncing around and airing out his hand like a blubbering buffoon you tried making a run for it. Keyword: tried.

In the end, you only made it as far as the circle of trees isolating this town before something pierced the back of your neck, and you were a prisoner of sleep all over again.

- ❧ -

You aren’t quite sure; perhaps you slept for eight, nine hours. All you knew is that when you awoke, there was sunshine pouring through the curtain-laced window like the brightest waterfall.

A...curtain-laced window...and silk sheets… … … 

You hopped to it the next second that thought circled your mind.

No. Oh, no…

...This certainly wasn’t your room. Your room was with the stars, the ocean, the grassy plains and trees, Rei at your side. This was an actual room, complete with a bed, canopy, dresser and wardrobe, a nightstand, and an additional table with matching chairs, four to be exact; two large windows, standing side by side at opposite ends of the room to your left. One beside the table, one near the door.

There was a note left for you on the nightstand (to your left) as well.

Y/n -

I’m sorry I had to knock you out like that. But you’re one of us now, and I can’t afford to let you leave. It’s important. Lives are at stake. You have to trust me, please.

There’s someone I’d like for you to meet. More like I need you to. I’ll explain more later, when you’re awake. If you read this and you still don’t feel well, feel free to take another couple of hours to yourself, to get your bearings; but don’t sleep for too long. I’ll wake you when we’re more pressed for time.

Again, I’m really sorry about all this. I hope you can find it in you to forgive me, but I get it if you need more time. Just promise not to take it out on Hyunjin, if you happen to run into him first.

Signed, Han, your kidnapper

There was an additional piece of paper that fell from behind the original.

P.S. - That was just a joke. Don’t freak out. I’m not a bad guy, really. At least, not as bad as you probably think I am.

…

You didn’t know what to think of anything anymore. This was all just too much. What on earth had happened to you? How did you get roped into all of this? ...You’d just wanted to find Carrots, and bring her home so Rei wouldn’t be sad and you wouldn’t feel guilty and the two of you could save the trouble of having to buy a new horse, train him, yadda yadda yadda. Instead you stupidly and ill-fatedly stumbled upon the home of an actual witch, walked right in, and told her things you probably shouldn’t have. You didn’t like the way she’d looked at you when you mentioned knowing Han Jisung.

The Mark of the Rose, the witch had slurred, eyes wide with a sinister grin. A blessing, and a curse.

Then she’d spouted some sort of riddle:

When sunrise comes and all is lost, Look upon the oldtown cross There you’ll find just what you seek This aging woman’s prophecy But if yet still you manage to bend And find and seek what storm’s may rend May fortunes smile and bring you light For the many remaining days of your life

...She hadn’t told you what the heck any of that was supposed to mean. For one, how could plaguing you with a mark from some wicked sorcery be a blessing?! And, what’s more...how was it a curse…? ...Her strange chanting hadn’t made any sense, though that last part had sounded nice...maybe that was the blessing?

Something made a skittering, scuffling sound. Turning to your left, something small and fuzzy caught your eye, climbing up a chair leg and coming to rest on the cushion above. It was...holding a crumb of cheese. Sitting there like a person, flat on his bum.

It was some kind of rodent.

You bristled all over, hair standing on end. “A RAT!!!” You shrieked, leaping from bed to dresser. Thankfully it had been bare atop the surface, minus the unlit candle and some kind of ornate mirror, which was an unfortunate accident. Seven years of bad luck was just what you needed, on top of everything.

The moment you let out a cry of alarm, the mouse similarly screamed-- possibly louder than you-- spasming out of the chair and running in circles with sweat flying from its brow until it ran into another chair leg and clocked out, rolling into the path of sunlight.

You’d been about to grab that discarded candle as a weapon until the room became incredibly bright. Clouds parted from outside, sunlight magnifying to flood the whole room. 

And then, when the sunlight narrowed to pierce the unconscious vermin straight through its heart, he became a boy. 

Hair the color of sunset and cheeks flushed rosy pink, full of freckles scrunched his nose, squinted, and wearily stared back at you, upside down. Prayerfully, by some miracle, he was still wearing clothes.

That didn’t change the fact that you had no idea what to make of this sudden development. You stood there, hunched frozen atop the dresser, candle half off the floor and jaw nearly there.

“Hn-- nnnngh…” he groaned, sitting up with a hand to his head, much like you had leaving the Witch’s Biome-- that’s what Han had called it, right? “...Ouch...that’s the last time I go exploring on my own…” He glanced at you over his shoulder, giving a kind, tired smile. “Thanks for turning me back! I’m sorry I scared you, Y/n.”

Your candlestick went flying across the room. 

“OW!!!”

“WHO ARE YOU?! HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME?!” you yelled. An accusatory finger followed. “This isn’t funny, and I’ve been through enough now! I’m sick of playing games, give me an answer right now or I’m throwing this broken mirror next!”

The door burst open. “What’s going on in--?! …”

Han Jisung was staring at Mouseboy curiously at first, widen eyes unblinking, you on the dresser second, a careful blink there...but the moment his eyes landed on the cracked mirror, he fell to his knees, hands in his hair.

“OH SH*T!” He shrieked, panicstricken all over. His voice was more pitched than (should be) possible. “What the hell did you do?! Who did this?!?”

Innocently, Mouseboy pointed to you, as if he had any right to be part of the blame game. “It was an accident, though,” he vouched (like that was supposed to make it better!). “I did the same thing when I woke up and saw myself an hour ago; you should have seen it, I broke five of those things! Talk about unlucky!”

He laughed. Han screeched, looking like The Scream. “YOU DID WHAT?!?!”

There was going to be a river running through the room by the time he finished sweating, pacing all over the place while nearly showering the floor and furniture with strands of blue hair. Mouseboy scratched his speckled-cheek, shifting to rest on the calves of his brown-clad work pants (He’d obviously been some kind of farm or errand boy before all this). “S-Sorry about that...it was an accident, really…” He bowed his head. “I-I can maybe get my boss to cover any property damage, but man, I’ll be working forever to pay it off…”

He sighed. You almost (almost) felt bad for him. But it was gonna take a lot more than just looking cute and pitiful to sway your emotions.

When at last he’d finished his...episode...Han stood from where he’d kneeled in prayer on the pinewood floor, swiping a hand over his face, shaking it off, and placing determined hands on his hips. “Okay,” he declared. “It’s alright. I’ll just have to convince Jeongin to pull an all-nighter and fix everything. Good thing he knows a thing or two about craftsmanship!”

Jeongin? …

You faltered, repeating the name curiously as you hopped off the dresser, now that the vermin crisis was over. Thankfully, your absent-mindedness didn’t cost you any cuts or bruises, seeing as there very well could have been shards of broken glass on the floor…

Han smiled your way, nodding. “Yeah, that’s right. We have a lot of introductions to get out of the way, so if you’re ready...well, you might want to get dressed first.”

Even more curiously, you looked down to examine yourself.

An eggshell, lace nightgown greeted your eyes.

… … … 

Who changed you...?!?!

| Six ❧

“Right, so,” said Han, pointing to each stranger in a misfit-lineup. “This is Seungmin, Jeongin, and...Felix, right? ...Yeah, okay, Felix.” He smiled, gesturing to you next. “Family, this is Y/n.”

Everyone either waved or bid you their own form of greeting, some shy, others more open. Now dressed in a sea-green gown with white-lace trim and possibly the most gaudy over exaggerated bow in the back (smaller, matching ones on your shoes and hair), you did your best to curtsey, though it was awkward and embellished to say the least, and really you’d just used it as an excuse to hike up your quarter-calf socks that refused to stay put. “Yeah, alright...nice to--”

“And this...is Hyunjin.”

The air got a little colder all of a sudden; both metaphorically and otherwise. You glanced up from rebuckling the annoying Mary Jane’s on your feet. Froze.

A tall, slender man stepped forward from where he’d been leaning against the wall beneath the cloak of shadow in the hallway. Now, stepping forward in the light of a grand, deserted chapel, his dark hair combed back by rough fingers pressed for time, he was…he was… 

He was staring at you as if you’d hung the moon in the sky. His eyes were so round and...big. Practically moons themselves.

“......” Han cleared his throat, voicing everyone else’s discomfort. “Yes, well...okay, then. This is great! See?!” He motioned to you as if you were some kind of showcase prize. “I brought her back, just like you asked! Now there’s no need to do anything rash or bloodthirsty! Hahah…hah…! …”

Everyone was strangely silent. Looking at each face in turn, though many were staring at you, none could look you in the eye; and no one dared to so much as peek in this Hyunjin fellow’s direction. In fact, the red-headed boy, Jeongin, seemed...almost...rather afraid.

“Hang on,” you interjected (though there was nothing but silence for sometime now). The gears in your mind cranked back to the letter folded messily on the nightstand: Lives are at stake. I need you to meet someone. “So you’re saying you brought me here because...your friend wanted me here?” You huffed. “I don’t understand. You said that lives were at stake. Who’s dying?” 

Quiet. A somber aura fell over the small gathering; maybe that had been a little brash of you to ask outright…

But you needed answers! Why were you here? What was going on? “...Han,” you said, and instantly the boy looked up at you. “Why did you bring me here? What’s going on? …” You scanned the other four faces of boys around you. “What did you mean when you said...I was…” You shook your head. Doubts were flooding in like a dam had just snapped. “This better not be a set up.”

...More quiet. Han cleared his throat once more, stepping back in line. He had no answers to give; his features only hardened. The other three boys in line were looking anywhere else-- the floor, the walls, the ceiling. Oh, look at that beautiful glass window up there. And look at that one!

Hyunjin just kept on staring at you as if staring right through you; like he couldn’t comprehend your existence. He was completely locked in a trance.

After you’d carefully righted yourself, and had just begun turning away to get the heck out of Dodge, it was Seungmin that spoke next. “You’ll have to forgive him,” he called, scratching his head. You turned around. “It’s been a while since any of us have seen another human being before, nonetheless one that isn’t cursed--”

Han flinched, just out of the corner of your eye. Twitch. “...Oh, you mean…”

Your eyes locked with Hyunjin’s, still stuck in outer space. Seungmin nodded. “Yeah...and as for him--” He flicked his eyes on Han. “He’s just stupid.”

“Hey!” The man protested. Seungmin simply rolled his eyes. 

“Well it’s true! I bet you failed to explain anything that’s going on to this poor girl. Just look at what you made her wear!” He gestured rather violently to your ridiculously (somewhat childish) outfit. “She looks like she stepped out of a dollhouse. The cheap, tacky kind they used to sell down the street at Aunt Marie’s.”

“Um, actually…” You scowled. “I dressed myself. There wasn’t much to go off of in the closet other than old-era gowns and...well, that was basically it. Speaking of which, though…”

You stomped forward. Everyone (minus Trancy) jumped. 

“Which one of you changed me before?! I don’t recall wearing or even owning some fancy nightgown before getting the lights shot out of me.”

Seungmin’s jaw slacked. “You drugged her too?!”

“Only because she was trying to escape!” Han griped. “I didn’t want to have to shoot her! Besides, it wasn’t like I used anything heavy…”

“Still,” Red-headed Jeongin said, siding with his buddy. “What would Hyunjin say if he weren’t lost in his thoughts again? And did you even consider Y/n?”

Han scoffed. “I brought her back, didn’t I? I’m pretty sure that’s all that matters.”

“Regardless,” Seungmin spoke, “You still basically brought her here against her will. That’s kidnapping. I’m pretty sure the curse isn’t going to--”

“Hello?!” you yelled, waving your arms. “I asked you all which one of you changed--! …”

Your eyes landed on Felix. The boy blinked, innocently processing, then bloomed another shade of rosy pink. “O-Oh, no…!” He waved his hands. “It wasn’t me, honest! I’ve been stuck as a mouse since last Tuesday! A-Also, you were already...I-I mean, I suppose if it wasn’t you, someone else had already…”

His voice trailed off; too modest, and he had a solid alibi. It couldn’t be him. In the background, Han and Seungmin were still arguing, with Jeongin occasionally chiming in to support Seungmin’s case.

“Let me guess,” Seungmin mused, arms crossed. “You probably stole them from Lady Verena down the road.”

Han made an urk! sound. Seungmin sighed.

“I knew it...no wonder she’s dressed so gaudy…” He and Jeongin turned to you with kind eyes. “Listen, Y/n. We’re really sorry about all this. If you need anything, from now on come to me or Jeongin. We’ll be sure to take care of you. Heck,” he grumbled, “even the new guy Felix could have done a better job…”

Felix smiled awkwardly. You and Han both fumed; for different reasons. “That’s not what I--!”

A low growl cut through the lowly-chaotic atmosphere. Everyone ceased their bickering.

The assumed head of the palace had awoken.

- ❧ -

He walked circles around you. Circles and circles and circles… 

You were starting to get more than a little dizzy.

“Fascinating…” Hyunjin mused. It was as if he were the only one in the room, and you were merely a lifeless figurine on display. While he spun himself into further insanity and far too strong curiosity, Seungmin and Jeongin both sent you sympathetic looks to “hang in there” and “just go with it.”

But you didn’t want to go with it. You wanted to go out-- away-- back home to the caravan, to the wagon that had Rei and Carrots and all your useless junk people gave life to, and you a profit. “I’m sorry,” your voice cut the mostly vacant air, save for the headmaster’s mumbling and strangely heavy breathing. “Am I missing something here? If you like or...don’t like my outfit, just tell me and I can either say “thank you” or change and we can all move on to more important topics, like, say...why I’m here? What’s going on?!”

Hyunjin froze a quarter of the way to facing you from the left, his brown eyes strangely wide (though really, everything about this man was strange). In the back, Seungmin and Jeongin once again made faces attuning to the atmosphere; in this case, nervous frowning.

They were all treating Hyunjin like some sort of ticking time bomb. Han obviously feared and weirdly resented him, it was plain and simple on his face, and even Felix was picking up something about this guy that you couldn’t sense. When he wasn’t distracted by colorful art or the dirt under his nails, he was sending highly strung vibes his way.

...In all honesty, you weren’t sure why you didn’t just walk out. Nothing was stopping you...really. There was a clear path from here to the great big hallway Han had escorted you down, Felix in tow, and from there a million other doors, all leading to someplace that had to be better than here. One of them-- at least five, or ten-- had to lead to some winding hallway that would take you to the great outdoors.

Just when you’d thought to inquire further on that, Hyunjin finally began speaking, and not mumbling. “You appear to be real…but…”

He closed the (little) distance he’d given you in a single stride, and without warning placed both his hands on your shoulders...very...tentatively. Then, he trailed his fingers up to your cheeks.

You latched onto his wrists, on instinct. A synchronized gasping chorus filled the room like a daytime tragedy soundtrack.

But Hyunjin did nothing, if not for widening his eyes yet again to stare into the depth of your face like he was amazed at your reaction. Like it wasn’t normal or something.

“Hyunjin,” spoke Seungmin, “perhaps it would do you well to give the girl-- Miss Y/n-- her space. She is a human, just like the...er...ahem.”

...That was a sour note.

“Actually…”

All eyes were on Han except yours. Even Hyunjin snapped out of his trance to glare skeptically with concern, with Seungmin having to carefully pull him away so you could stop smelling his pungent breath.

“...Ahaha...ahahahahaha…” ...Han wilted. “I sorta...maybe...well, okay, I didn’t do it, but--”

“What did you do?” Hyunjin spoke. All eyes flew to him, then back at Han in anticipation. Like some sort of thriller novel. The daytime tragedy continued. Maybe you were in a tragic play of some sort, and there was a hidden audience just waiting to jump out and announce that you’d officially been pranked.

“………” He took a breath. “TheWitchcursedhertoo…!”

And then he covered his mouth, wincing moments too soon. 

The decaying chapel gasped. Hyunjin’s face turned hard, then slowly, bewitchingly, menacing.

“She did what?!”

Jeongin’s eyes went wide. “Y-You’ve been cursed too?” he asked, mournfully, almost with pity. Everyone appeared to display a sadness teetering on the edge between fear and hopelessness.

It was insane how quickly the airspace had shifted; though nothing normal had happened yet, everything had at least been more or less steady. Now, it was as if the room had been thrown off its hinges at the mention of the woman...the Witch. Which you were hoping had been a dream, but seeing as Felix was here, and Han bringing it up...definitely not.

Han whimpered; actually whimpered, like a child being scolded for breaking a vase. “I-It was an accident, honest!” He begged. “She didn’t know she was headed into the Witch’s Biome, and I lost track of her! BY ACCIDENT! When I found her, I swear I did everything I could to protect her, honest! Th-That’s where I met Felix, though I didn’t know he was really human at the time...and I brought them both back here.”

Seungmin made a curious face of urgency, almost seeming to sweat as he crossed diagonally forward to move you back, even going so far as to stand in front of you as a shield while Jeongin took care of Felix, tugging the mouse-turned-boy’s twine-sewn sleeve to take shelter behind some discarded pews.

What happened next wasn’t a dream, but surely a thing of nightmares. Right in league with the Witch’s hideout.

There was a swirling mass of black and deep red as something foreign and sinister took hold of the feared so-called Master of the House. Hyunjin began to grow bigger. Sharp, pointed fangs protruded from tight chapped lips pulled back in a snarl. His eyes told of hunger, bloodshot. Pitched daggers made of shadow and bone formed and crystalized along his fingertips.

You lost your voice. You could barely breathe. You weren’t even sure how you were able to stand.

“Hyunjin,” Seungmin warned, a sternness to his voice. “Think about what you’re doing. Y/n is here.”

Hyunjin growled, no longer a man anymore but some sort of...foul, hideous beast. He bore murderous eyes at Han. “I don’t care,” he growled, “I’m going to—!”

“You’re scaring her.”

… … …

That seemed to get his attention. Though the same couldn’t be said about yours; for though you stood still, frozen in time and space, your wandering mind was making a break for recalling the nearest exit. An empty, dizzying numbness choked your thoughts.

Hyunjin...if he could even be called that anymore...glared at you with wide, mournful eyes. Eyes full of fear and insecurity. Doubt. A horrible realization.

In the blink of an eye-- for you literally just had to blink-- he was back to normal. He stood apprehensively still, the rage and miasma gone, staring a hole into your Mary Janes. Perhaps staring at the reflection back at him.

Though he stood impossibly still, his voice gave him away in slight, wavering cracks. “...Forget what you just saw. It was merely an illusion. A trick of the light.”

“Uuuuh,” Felix interrupted. “P-Pretty sure that wasn’t-- mmph!”

Jeongin gave him a silencing, terrified eye. “Shhh!”

“......” With a passive grunt, Hyunjin continued. This time his eyes were directly on you; a wave of nervous energy pooled over your skin. “Dinner is at six p.m. sharp.” he said. “You will be there. ...We will have an encore of introductions, no...an entire reestablishment.” He turned his head viciously over his shoulder. The boy his eyes landed on squeaked. 

“Han,” he uttered. The said boy bit his lip. 

“Y-Yes…?”

Hyunjin deadpanned, in the most unamused, lifeless way. “Come.”

“Ahahahah, a-actually-- whAAA!”

A vase at the far end of the room shattered. Literally exploded, a few shards lodging themselves into innocently bystanding portraits and landscapes. When your attention strayed back, you could see Hyunjin had thrown something.

Han quickly bowed, visibly starting to sweat all over again. After a tense moment he stood, saying in the softest voice, barely a whisper, his agreement. 

Then, wringing the rings on his fingers, he nervously followed him out.

| Seven ❧

Dinner was set to be at six p.m. Attendance was apparently a requirement, given the formal invite Felix slipped beneath your door, turned back to a mouse once more (something about moonlight turning him into a...weremouse? ...The rules of his curse were rather complicated).

However, that didn’t mean that you had to be there.

“...And so that’s how I became a real boy again!” The mouse cheered, setting off a small party steamer Jeongin had granted him to lift his spirits. His tiny rodent eyes crinkled in delight as he beamed up at you from the dining table of your guest room, where the two of you were currently seated. You twitched your nose in timing with his, having stared at him and his life-story-since-last-Tuesday for far too long.

You shifted your weight to the other cheek. “So, really, all you had to do was make contact with sunlight. But you were too scared and kept to the shadows all this time.”

“Precisely! At least, I think that’s how it works!” He plopped down, digging some...cheese crumbs out of his coat. “That, and the old hasbeen wouldn’t let me leave every time I tried. Do you know when the last time I saw the sun was?! Go on, guess!”

“...Last Tuesday?”

He looked at you with wide-eyes, paws shoved up his piehole. He took a few minutes to chew and swallow. “...Oh, you’re good. No wonder you’re the chosen one to break everyone’s curse!”

You huffed, snorted really, leaning back to cross your arms in thought. A movie reel spun its way around your brain, projecting the late afternoon’s events on a white screen:

…Hyunjin’s retreating figure left some sort of impression in your mind, and Han seemed to vanish like ink washed off of a page. The moment they’d both gone, your knees buckled beneath you, hands hitting the cold pavement. Seungmin was down to your level in an instant, with Jeongin and Felix scurrying around pews, bits of rubble and broken glass.

“Y/n, are you alright? …” Seungmin asked, reaching out to you. He paused briefly to think. “...I’m going to check your pulse,” he announced.

As his fingers found their way around your wrist, Jeongin flanked to your other side with a first aid kit he’d salvaged from who-knew-where. Felix kept his distance, wringing his cap the way Han had wrung the rings on his fingers, but one look at his face told you he was just as concerned for your health as the others…he simply didn’t know what to do.

“Here, put this on her!”

“I’m alright,” you mumbled, pushing away an ice pack with sloth. Jeongin gave you a distasteful glare of sorts. 

“But you nearly fainted--!”

“I’m fine...really.”

“......”

Everyone laid off after that. 

Which you took as your cue to exit. In your retreating haste, albeit, you failed to see the sorrowful eyes that followed your fleeting back; but you could feel them, and it wouldn’t be long until they found a voice to stand upon.

“Come on, Felix,” you said. “I’ll see what I can do to get you home. I don’t know where you originally came from, but if it’s anywhere near Westwind, my friend and I can give you a lift.” ...It was the least you could do, after all. Felix hadn’t done anything wrong; he wasn’t the one that kidnapped you, or put a “curse” on you, which you weren’t even sure was real, by the way. Sure, some crazy stuff happened, but you didn’t feel any different. What if Han and the Witch and that Hyunjin guy were really all in kahoots, and this was just some kind of crazy...outrageous propaganda stunt?

Jeongin continued to stare, now in an incredulous manner. “Y/n…”

“Let her go,” Seungmin insisted, lowering Jeongin’s hand. The boy grasped the air weakly, the pulsing of his fingers mocking his faintly beating heart, breaths shallow and longing, feebly succumbing to trembles. It would have been painful to watch, had you known him better.

Felix, keeping a low profile as best he could in such tense situation, removed the beret he’d just finished placing back on his head, squeezing it before him. “...A-Alright,” he agreed after a moment. He paced over gradually at first, then broke into a nervous, jagged jog as he scuttled to your side. “Thanks…”

You smiled to hide the fear and insanity of what you’d just witnessed before. A man turning into a beast— a boy becoming like a shadow— everything that had happened up until now; it was just a dream, Y/n. A bad propaganda stunt. “Don’t mention it.” You turned over your shoulder. “...It was nice meeting you.”

Seungmin smiled, bitterly so, as Jeongin closed in on himself. “Same to you. Please, take care. I apologize for any trouble we caused you.”

With a nod, your footsteps echoed into the once-lavish corridor, Felix trailing nervously behind you. But then…

Those sorrowful eyes found their voice. “Wait, Y/n! Please, don’t go yet!” Someone was running after you. “Please stay, just for dinner at least! Please!!!”

...Your footsteps faded. Waiting.

“Please, Y/n…” Jeongin paused some ten feet away, falling to his knees to beg. “Cursed or not, only you can break the spell. I know how this must look to an outsider like yourself, but what Han said to you before in his letter...I’m sorry but I pried before he left it. He’s right. You’re one of us now. But you’re also you. And only you can save him. We…” His voice trailed off, eyes following, focusing on something in his hands...a locket of some sort? “...We gave up on ourselves a long time ago. But as weird and annoying and frustrating as he is, we made a promise to never, ever give up on Hyunjin. Like it or not he’s our boss, and our dearest friend. He’s been good to us for so many years...after all he’s done, we at least need to save him!” His eyes searched for yours, gripping his hands tightly, pleading, crying out with anguish and hope. “It might be too late, but we have to try! We can’t do anything like this...only you can save him. Please, Y/n…”

You’d been paying attention this whole time, but it was just now that you were starting to see: something dark and lively wrapping its way around Jeongin’s neck, then his right cheek. It was like a tattoo, only...alive. And moving. Black vines with thorns and heart-shaped leaves mapped their way across half the boy’s face, finally tangling into his bright, unnaturally red hair that sploched into ebony black, the color of Rei’s hair, only darker maybe, and then…

He began to fade. “...Please help him. He’s not as bad as he seems, honest! Please say you’ll stay and save him!”

...After that, Seungmin ran over and gave Jeongin some kind of shot that turned him back to normal and stopped him from disappearing, but…

What were you supposed to do when he started crying like that?! You weren’t expecting the waterworks…

Because you were both nice people, you and Felix hurried back to help, too, though all the two of you could really do was run circles around each other and agree to stay for just a bit longer. Just until dinner, you’d repeated. So we have the strength to travel.

...You would go to dinner. Really, the plan had been to just send Felix down. That wouldn’t do, though, now that you thought about it... Well, then, you certainly weren’t staying; you’d simply pop in to make sure that Jeongin kid was still alive, grab a roll or two, and then you’d be off to the nearest motel or campsite, because you certainly weren’t spending a night here. Come morning, you and hopefully Felix could hurry back to Westwind and after you took the boy home, or someplace close, you could get back to a normal life traveling and selling wares and running away from fate and customs.

“I’m pretty sure it’s just Hyunjin I’m supposed to fix,” you mumbled, getting back to the small conversation. You never thought in a hundred years you’d be sitting down in some old castle out in the middle of nowhere, talking to a rat (that was really a person, but still). Your eyes scanned the window beside you, out into the foggy gray beyond where nothing but trees and old abandoned buildings greeted you, lifeless along the horizon.

Mouse Felix was still stuffing his face with crumbs of cheddar and swiss. He seemed to have found some bread crust to pair with the former ensemble. “I mean, I guess. I think I heard that one guy, Seungmin, mention something about it being for everyone though? Or I could have just been hearing things…” He swallowed, stacking another small tower. “Wow, I’ve never had such an appetite until last Tuesday…”

“......” You rolled your eyes, counterproductive to your set jaw. How the heck were you supposed to save anyone? Why you, of all people?

That annoying chant the Witch had said replayed in your mind...maybe, if you could decipher it, you’d have some answers...how did it go, exactly…?

When sunrise comes and all is lost, Look upon the oldtown cross There you’ll find just what you seek This aging woman’s prophecy

Sunrise. So when the sunrise came...but, lost? What was lost?

A cross? You surveyed the area, but you didn’t see anything like that.

What you seek...was this you, or was you someone else? What was it you, or they, were looking for? You just wanted to go home…

...All you got from the last part was that this witch was crazy. Then, the rest went something like… But if yet still you manage to bend And find and seek what storm’s may rend May fortunes smile and bring you light For the many remaining days of your life

Okay, seriously, what were you bending?! This had to be metaphorical. So bend...what, your will? Heart? Find a loophole somewhere?

Were you finding what was lost? Would you find it if you found a loophole? Or had a change of heart?

Fortunes would smile upon you...something good would come.

For the rest of your days…

…You smacked your head against the table, startling poor Felix. Who were you kidding?! You’d already decided, that old hermit in the woods was crazy. Trying to translate some old ramblings was a waste of time…!

...And effective in giving you a headache. You groaned, massaging your temples as Felix detangled himself from your locks to scamper a safe distance away. 

“Y/n? Are you alright?”

“...Yeah. Fine.”

“...You don’t sound fine. You sound like Chan when he’s had a long night working on a new project and drank more coffee than he got work done. And I don’t think he even likes coffee.”

You turned your head. “Who’s that?”

Felix smiled. The only mouse that knew how to. “My boss, sort of. We both work for an entertainment company, at least...I did, before this happened.” He regarded himself sadly. “Ever since last Tuesday--”

You groaned again. “Urgh, I know, I get it already! Last Tuesday may as well be your catchphrase at this point.”

“...Sorry.”

“......” You peeked back at him, flicking a crumb of cheese his way. It seemed to take away all his problems like a one-way train. You sat up, grinning just a little at how cute he looked, nimbling innocently. The only rodent you’d ever find to be cute. “...Tell me more about it. About Chan, was it? And this entertainment company of yours. I honestly thought you were a farmer.”

“A farmer?” He thought. “Oh...yeah, my clothes! I grew up on a farm, and our company is relatively small. I just threw those on when I went exploring the woods.”

“And what were you doing exploring the forest on your own?”

“Uh...well,” he blushed. “I’ll tell you about Chan and the company first.”

His small, yet surprisingly bass voice carried on into the dimly-lit atmosphere. Maybe you just needed to take your mind off things. You were getting too wound up in something you weren’t even committed to being a part of. Once you saw Jeongin was okay, you’d be forgetting all about this place. So for now, you just needed to relax.

And who knew mice told such fabulous, intricate stories?

| Eight ❧

“Hyunjin, please…!”

Crash!

Another mirror. Terrific.

After their departure from the old art gala, Hyunjin had led the two to one of the many old studies that lied grungy and muted like the rest of the palace. In the circular room resided one dusty old curtain over a weathering window, a few bookshelves chalked with books likely to never be read again, a small table with various junk, a chair, another chair, a small loveseat, a slightly larger small grandfather clock...and a calendar with much angry scribbling, stains, and tears.

“Hyunjin, Jeongin can only fix so many mirrors at once...you know how this all works…you break a mirror, something in the castle vanishes. Then I take the heat for it!” 

The beast growled. “You don’t think I know that? Are you talking back to me right now?”

Han flinched. If he were human, surely he would have died from a thousand ulcers and the tight sensations of horrid anxiety by now… “N-Not by any means...Hyunjin,” With gritted teeth, he bowed his head. “Please, listen to me for a second. Let me explain.”

“Oh, that you will,” the beast grumbled. He gracefully spun himself into a red velvet chair, lifting another looking glass from the small table beside it in order to glare at himself broodingly. It made the small hairs of Han’s neck stand yielding, doing a little dance of anxiety. 

“V-Very well,” He said, standing back up straight. He gave an awkward glance at the broken mirror shards before deciding he’d better start talking his way out of another beating, and clean up later. “Our journey begins in the outskirts of Westwind city--”

Hyunjin raised his right arm, the mirror held precariously in the balance. “Too far.”

“NO DON’T!”

...Phew.

Removing the handheld treasure from the prince’s hand, his shadow took a few steps back, peering into it. Watching the door and bookshelf behind him, as shadows had no reflection. “...I traveled around...out yonder, just as you asked. Just like I said I would. I let the wind and my intuition, my hope, guide me, and within less than a day’s travel I came upon Westwind city. That’s where I found her, just outside the gates...she was accompanied by another, a young woman of close age. They looked too different to be related, so I assume it was a friend, or maybe a distant...distant relative. Anyway--”

Hyunjin sighed.

“...Anyway, I--”

“How did you know she was the one? And so close? So close to our village...it seems too good to be true. And I thought you said she was lying dormant somewhere.”

Han blinked, eyes flitting forward. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face. It took all his willpower not to flinch or show anymore signs of weakness. “W-Well, yes, she was, but uh...she escaped?”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. And so, I put her to the test.” 

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes. “You put her to the test? What does that mean?”

“I quizzed her. I knocked on the door of her heart...and she ignored me quite a few times, but eventually, I got in. In exchange for a favor.”

“What favor?”

Han smiled with pride. “I’d saved her friend’s life. Or...distant, distant relative. After that, I asked her carefully, very seriously, of her thoughts.”

“...About…?”

“The curse.”

“You told her outright about the curse?!”

Seeing as Hyunjin was near fuming, Han turned on the sprinklers, fanning his arms about. “No, no! Not outright! I was very tricky! I used lots of metaphors and figuratively-speakings! She had no idea to the core of the matter, really!” ...And anyway, did it even matter anymore? Y/n was well aware by now she wasn’t exactly in Kansas anymore...

“......” Hyunjin relaxed back in his chair. “So, what did she say?”

Han searched the dusty floorboards for a minute, before slowly twisting the mirror 180 degrees. “Well, sir, it was what I said first. I asked her…”

- ❧ -

“A man, or a beast? As individuals, do we have a choice?”

“...I’m sorry...I don’t understand the question.”

“Hmm…” Han thought. “...Imagine you were put under a...spell. A spell that turned you into a hideous monster, with fangs and claws and fur in places you’d never imagined...but it comes and goes, this curse of yours.” He tilted his head. “Are you still human? Or are you now a beast? Well?”

“...I...I don’t know,” you confessed, listing your gaze aside. “I really have no idea where you got such a crazy idea from.”

“Okay...then let me ask you this. I’ll help you out.”

He leaned forward this time. “Do you think we have a choice? Is it possible to define ourselves as one or the other?”

“Well...yes, I would think so.” Your eyes met his. “We all have a choice— to be monsters, or men. It is not a matter of blood, or a spell, but a condition of the heart.”

- ❧ -

Hyunjin leaned forward in his chair, eyes wide as saucers.

This time, he knew it, too. But he didn’t care how he must have looked. That fear died a long time ago, having stared at the many faces of Hwang Hyunjin over the years.

He simply couldn’t believe it. It really was true, then. It had to be her. The girl that would solve all his problems…!

...For the record, one should never put all their faith into one person in regards of “solving problems” or “fixing them,” but this was different. In this case, this girl really was the answer to lifting the curse plaguing his home and body for so many moons, so many long, hard-watched seasons…

And she was going to be having dinner with him. Not only that, but he only had a handful of hours left until it was all over, and everything set into stone.

The door behind Han slammed open, Seungmin entering the stage and stealing his spotlight like he normally did. Even before the curse, the boy who’d been his father’s auditor-in-training was always bursting in to bask in the limelight with his savvy knowledge, goody-two-shoes this and boring document question that.

He swears this was never the case, but Hyunjin knew better. “Do you mind? I’m having a discussion with--”

“Not now.”

“Excuse me?” Seungmin was rummaging around the room, spreading knick-knacks around, tossing books off shelves after quickly examining covers or flipping through a few pages, even going so far as to demand that Hyunjin stand so he could upturn all the seat cushions. “What are you doing?”

The boy genius frowned. “Jeongin had an episode after Y/n almost left. He—”

Hyunjin found himself shaking the boy in the next second. “Did he stop her?!”

“...Shouldn’t you be asking if he’s alright first?”

Hyunjin just continued to stare. Seungmin rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I was going to say, he managed to stop her. I did say almost left. By the way, Jeongin’s in peril right now, so if you could be so kind as to release me, I’d like to get back to ensuring his safety as soon as possible.”

As soon as Hyun dropped him, the boy got right back to work; tearing the room apart. Han pursed his lips.

“He had an episode? Did you give him a shot?”

The boy sighed. “Yes, but I’ve told you both before they’re only temporary. I’m looking for lavender oil, and the vine clippers. I don’t remember the original recipe to stop the ebb and flow, but I think I can make a close replacement from what I’ve read in the past.” He glanced over his shoulder a moment. “What were you getting so hot under the collar about, anyway? Is this about Y/n? Being cursed?”

Shoot, by the day, that was right. He was still angry about that. What if Han had blown it? What if this Y/n was defective now because she’d been touched by the Witch’s mad hand?

Oh, he was so going to get it if…!

“Eeek!” Han shrieked, already knowing what was to come. “Dammit, don’t remind him of that! I had just managed to get on his good side!”

Seungmin rolled his eyes again. “You’re never on his good side. All you two do is bicker and fight and run from or after each other until you’ve become one with the walls and he passes out from anger or resentment or both. ...Ah!” He smiled. “Found the clippers. Now for that oil…”

“Forget the oil!” Hyunjin roared. “We don’t have time for this! Ahh…!” He gritted both hands in his hair, looking out the window, up at the old miniature grandfather clock. “Time’s running out. Since she’s the one, we may still have a chance. Cursed or not we only have three days...two days…!”

It was at this point that Seungmin made a quizzical expression, pausing in his endeavors to pace rather calmly over to the calendar, checking the date. “...The anniversary of your curseday isn’t until next month. You have a whole season, almost.”

A...season?

“Let me see that,” Hyunjin demanded, shoving the kid aside. He peered anxiously at the line up, the rows of weeks in the calendar month that said… … …

Seungmin was right. He’d misread the date, in all his anxious spite.

He had until the next season. Until the first snowfall. Starting tomorrow, his clock would begin.

...Oh, who was he kidding?! His clock started tonight; with dinner.

In a tizzy, his whole attitude changed. No longer was he a grumpy, repulsive, bitter soul trapped in a cursed body. Mindlessly resenting his father, his past actions, the old beggar who’d shown up on his doorstep. He was a nervous young man about to have his first date in what felt like forever, because truthfully, it had been. “What am I going to wear?! ...Oh my gosh, she saw me transform…!” Horror filled his lungs with a ragged breath, hands flying to sunken cheeks. “I can’t let her see me now! But I have to! I have to break the curse...I mean, she has to break the curse! But what if--!”

“Hyunjin!” Han clamped his mouth shut. A bold move for someone that was normally terrified of him. “Calm down! I think that’s step one!” He looked around while Seungmin continued his search. “Step two would be...uh…”

“Finding an appropriate outfit?” Seungmin offered. Han beamed.

“YES, finding an appropriate outfit! Genius!”

Again, the boy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, who would have thought…?”

“C’mon!” The two flew past him, Hyunjin too preoccupied with his previous behavior, overwhelmed by too many truths, to even-- …

He rushed back into the room. “Did you say Jeongin was--?!”

“Let’s go,” Han ordered, yanking the househead by the collar. Leaving Seungmin alone to his bumbling foragery.

My, how times quickly changed.

| Nine ❧

Another spaghetti noodle found its way into Felix’s hair, alongside a half-eaten slice of garlic bread. 

In the great dining hall, chandeliers hung like clouds in a desecrated chamber, all covered in dust and cobwebs. A long, very long table stretched from one end of the wide room to the other, all set with dining ware meant to feed the entire Royal Family and their second cousins. A rainbow of food covered the crimson-draped platform, starting with English scones and biscuits on one end and ending with an Italian pot of gold on the other, complete with pastas, pizza, and a basket of garlic bread nestled to Felix’s right, who was seated at the table’s end. All along the walls sat candles lit with a hazy tint, casting shadows like lingering ghosts, light dancing across the faces of those present.

You slid your hand down one side of your face, safely hidden amongst the confines of two large chambers doors with one slightly askew. Good grief. You were simply waiting on Jeongin to show, to ascertain he was alright; until then, it was Felix’s one job to stall. What on earth was that foolish mouseboy doing shoving food in his hair?!

Seungmin, seated to the absent head’s left, and the only other soul in the room, cleared his throat loudly enough to be heard over the cultural expansion of what was meant to be one supper. “Felix!” he called, “Might I ask why you’re storing food on your persons? You’re...not a mouse at the moment.”

Unfortunately it didn’t reach far enough, as Felix continued to store and gobble down food. “Mm… What’d you say, cuz?”

Seungmin frowned. “I said,” he repeated, raising his voice, “you’re not a mouse anymore!”

Felix blinked, pausing red-handed while sliding a breadstick into his shirt pocket. “...Aren’t I?” He examined himself. “...Oh.” He blushed. “I suppose you did give me one of those fancy needles, didn’t you? I’m not used to being a real boy at this hour.”

Seungmin sunk back into his seat; a sigh.

Oh, but for Pete’s sake, where was Jeongin?! Seungmin could at least mention his current condition, so you could skedaddle your way to the nearest exit with a salad to-go. Better yet, some pasta and a pound of those chicken tenders sounded all the better…

No, no Y/n! Now was not the time to be thinking about food...even if it’d been a while since you last ate...more like a day…

...Ooooooh...pizza and...shrimp cocktail…

A pile of desserts rested center stage. Was that German chocolate you were seeing...?

“So,” Seungmin called. “Will Y/n be joining us this evening?”

Your attention snapped back to reality. Felix shook his head alongside tearing into a drumstick. “‘Fraid not,” he replied.

“Mm…” the other boy nodded. “...May I ask why? Is she feeling alright?”

Felix paused again. Forgetting the pasta and German chocolate, you pressed yourself against the closed door in order to be as close as possible, ear resting just next to the shaded chandelier and candlelight. 

Just like we practiced, Felix. Come on, just like we rehearsed.

“Uuuh,” Felix stammered. “Th-That’s…”

His head listed aside in thought. Ugh! No, what was he doing?! 

Felix chewed much longer than he needed to while racking his mouse-sized brain for an answer. Your fingertips pressed into old polished wood, silently begging the boy to remember what you’d just discussed twenty minutes ago.

Remember...think, dang it!

Suddenly, he swallowed. “Oh!”

Seungmin shook his head, as if waking up from a trance. “Yes?”

Felix grinned, probably with salad or something stuck in his teeth. “Y/n will not be attending this dilatory gathering due to a symptom...of her curse, that makes her quite drowsy at this late hour!”

Chink...! That was the sound of your hope cracking like a broken mirror. That sounded totally rehearsed! The lie was supposed to be that your curse made you tired and you didn’t want to be disturbed. It was perfect, since you knew one of them would insist on butting in to see for themselves, but surely would respect a young lady’s wishes to be left alone…

Though it was hard to see that far, Seungmin appeared to be grinding gears in his mind to make sense of such a suspiciously wordy sentence when, heaven’s to Betsy, the door at the far side opened, and in came a blue-haired shadow. It was the only way you knew how to describe him; he was simply put, like ink off a rain-washed page… “Wassup?!” He announced, swinging out the right-side chair.

Seungmin deadpanned, appearing to squint just slightly. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Ink-boy dropped a handful of rolls onto his plate. “...Like wha— oh!”

He leapt for the door again. Seungmin rolled his eyes (something he seemed to do a lot), dabbing the sides of his mouth before placing the cloth back over his lap. “Yeah. Oh.”

At the far end of the room, Han held both hands raised, as if he were a magician about to reveal a magic trick. “May I present to you, Felix, His Royal Highness, Prince of Everain Palace, Ruler of Finance, Master of Trade, Prosperer of...prospering, President Hwang’s birthright successor of the greatest industry of all time, Hyun— …”

Crickets. 

You couldn’t visibly see it, but you knew it was there: a single drop of sweat that rolled down the side of Han Jisung’s face, as he stood frozen, one hand hovering over the engraved door handle.

“Ha...hahaha…” He did his best to smile. “...Wh-Where’s Y/n?”

Felix bobbed his head, holding up a finger while finishing off a bite of lasagna. “Mm...one second mate…” He dabbed the corners of his mouth like Seungmin had done, taking his time to tuck and fold the elaborate cloth upon his lap. 

Han twitched. Felix surely smiled, taking a painfully slow inhale.

“Y/n will not be attending this dilabitory...dilatory gathering due to a...symptom?...yeah, a symptom of her curse, that makes her quite drowsy at this late hour!”

… …

“She whAT?!?!”

You sighed. While Han had another spastic encounter with the dust-coated floor, Seungmin hollered and tried beating the boy out of it with various hard-mattered foods, the two falling into the same bickering as they had before. Felix continued to happily stuff his face like nothing was bothering him. And you, idly residing in the cold hallway, still had no idea how Jeongin was. Not a word.

Sliding your back down the door, you pursed your lips, lightly smacking two fingers over your wrist; better check yourself before you wreck yourself, just in case.

Fifty-eight...fifty-nine...sixty. Yep, normal.

But the marking on your wrist wasn’t. 

You jumped back, hitting the door and causing the noise outside to dip for a moment before returning to...what was currently normal. You covered your right wrist with the opposite hand. Held your breath. Counted to three.

Removing your fingers, slowly, something sinister stared back at you. Something...elaborate, foreign, but distinguished. Some sort of...strange dome shape, a mark made of...ink, maybe, resembling a chapel window. Or a door, perhaps?  

Upon closer inspection, in the faint light from the other room, it seemed to pulse with...some kind of...energy… … 

...When sunrise comes, and all is lost… Hmm… 

Fwoosh!

You snapped your head back, peering through the sliver of dancing light. The far door ricocheted against its adjacent wall; an ambrosial aroma wafting through the air. The candlelight...illuminated...

...A beastly man with silky black hair.

- ❧ -

You’re pretty sure you heard a noodle slip off the fork wound tightly in Felix’s hand, who nearly dropped it all the same. 

There he was; the man who’d become a monster and nearly murdered Han just hours ago, right before your eyes. The black and red miasma, honed claws, sharp teeth; all of it came flooding back to your mind like a tidal wave. 

The sudden drop in temperature made you long for candle warmth, yet flee farther into the shadows of the empty hall. Seungmin paused with a scone held once proudly and threateningly in the air, now placed delicately on his plate as he nervously slid back into his seat. Han, once choking on a fistful of salad mix, managed to wash it down and did the same, quickly and quietly so after pulling out the beastman’s seat.

Hyunjin sat down with vigor, the legs of his chair scraping harshly to the floor. He made a peculiar face, something like embarrassment albeit just a second, before hiding it behind the fluffing of his napkin and folding it onto his lap. Then he made a fleeting...was that nervous?...glance straight head, to the far opposite end of the table.

The candlelight seemed almost hesitant to cast it’s erratic glow upon the prince’s face. When his eyes met a head of orange hair, he froze, glaring. Hotly. “Where is Y/n?”

“The million dollar question,” Seungmin mumbled. It managed to echo, along with the kick beneath the table and following hiss escaping his lips a moment later. 

Hyunjin snorted, turning his gaze back to Felix. “I said,” he repeated. “Where is Y/n?”

“Yes, I heard you loud and clear, cuz,” Felix replied with an OK sign. “Gimme just a sec...ahem!”

You (silently) banged your head against the solid matter before you. Oh, sweet stars, please no…

“Y/n will not be attending this—”

“She’s not feeling well, Your Grace,” Seungmin interrupted. Phew. “Apparently she’s rather ill as a side effect from whatever curse the Witch gave her. She’s resting in the same guest room upstairs.”

Yes! Now, someone mention Jeongin’s name so you could leave with a clear conscious!

Hyunjin blinked. “Go get her, then.”

… Huh?

Seungmin nearly swallowed wrong, apparently thinking the same thing. “I’m sorry?”

Hyunjin, again, snorted. “I said, go get her. It’s rude to keep everyone waiting, especially royalty.”

Felix, who had long started his meal prior to anyone’s arrival, stopped and hurriedly shoved any evidence under a spare napkin from the empty seat beside him. “Ahaha, yes, right! Waiting…! …” 

He awkwardly wiped his hands clean. Seungmin frowned. “Hyunjin…”He placed his fork down. “She’s sick. Resting. And after today, I don’t blame her for wanting to be left alone right now…” He eyeballed Felix a moment, leaning in with a hushed voice. “Remember, you have more time now...it’s better to be patient. Let her adjust first.” He turned back toward his meal. “I got the hint from Felix’s message, she wants to be left alone. Everyone’s already started eating, anywa—”

“That’s enough!”

The room swiftly grew colder. You shivered, ducking your head even if you technically weren’t present in the dining atmosphere. Oh, greif.

Hyunjin slammed his hands on the table, rocking himself upwards. “If you’re just going to back talk and give me excuses, I’ll get her myself!”

He made his way toward you, crossing the dining room on Han’s side in angry strides towards the vaguely slitted door.

Gasping, you bit your lip hard, frantically searching for a place to hide; but there was nothing. No furniture or randomly placed junk littered the path leading to the great hall. Could you outrun him, maybe? Would it make a sound? How good was his hearing? Did beastmen have the same sensitive hearing capabilities as a wolf, or a fox?

“Pardon me!”

You whirled around, witnessing the brave, possibly last, antics of Felix the Mouse...boy. His whole aura radiated positive, jittering energy, hopping lightly from one foot to the next as he put his old entertainment skills to use, all for your sake.

Hyunjin grunted, having been stopped in his tracks. He glared down heatedly. “What is it? You’re in my way.”

Felix saluted him. “Right on, bro! ...Except, that…”

You held your breath. Put on a good show, Felix. Or, better yet, ask him about Jeongin. That’s all I need to—

“...I need to pee. Mind showing me where the bathroom is?”

… … 

Oh…he just had to...go… 

You deflated like a popped balloon. Of course.

After staring almost incredulously at Felix, like trying to understand his existence, Hyunjin made some sort of irritated noise you assumed all beastmen made, shoved him aside, and continued his striding. 

You made it as far as a few paces from the first available turn before a cold voice stopped you.

“Just where do you think you’re going?”

Urk! … 

...You really should have just looked for Jeongin yourself.

| Ten ❧

“Where’s Jeongin?”

The room had long ago settled into an uncomfortable silence. Bitterly, you shoved a stuffed olive into your mouth, letting the salty tang of the brined fruit coax over your tongue before shivering from the sensation.

You were getting drowsy. But that also could have been from the wine Han insisted on pouring for you, and you being stressed and unsure if an evening around a beastman would be at all possible without the effects of alcohol, accepted.

You were seated across from the beast now, in Felix’s place. The boy being forced to your right...until the effects of whatever had made him a boy again wore off. As of ten minutes ago, he was a rodent yet again, nested happily in the garlic bread basket. You squinted eyes at him over your wine glass.

You totally failed the mission. Be grateful I’m having a hard time staying mad at you. And that you can safely ingest garlic.

“Why do you wish to know?”

Hyunjin’s voice boomed across the grand hall, in no more than a calm rejoinder. How he could speak so lowly and yet fill an entire hall was beyond your drunkenly buzzing comprehension.

“I just want to know,” you simply replied. “Where is he?”

Hyunjin didn’t respond. Instead, Seungmin cleared his throat, excusing himself from the room.

“Wait,” You stood. “Where are you going?”

The boy awkwardly shifted his gaze from you to the door. Hyunjin suddenly stood as well. “Why do you want to know? Why are you asking so many questions?”

“Okay, okay,” Han dabbed at his face, easing the beast back into his seat, and motioning for you to do the same. “Everyone take it easy. Y/n, please excuse Seungmin, he has many responsibilities here. Hyunjin...Your Princeliness,” he corrected, “why don’t you have some more wine? I think we all just need to have a nice long drink and—”

“Be quiet,” Hyunjin ordered, scooting himself in. His shadow didn’t need to be told twice, turning back to his dinner with a small eye roll.

Steadily, with caution, you lowered yourself back into your seat, only able to watch as Seungmin gave a brief bow to you before disappearing behind closed doors. “Please excuse me,” his voice trailed behind him.

Great. He was likely the only one who’d have been bold and honest enough to tell you anything. Now you were stuck with a beast, a shadow, and a mouse that’d fallen asleep in the bread basket.

...Then this happened.

“Ahem,” Hyunjin swallowed a swish of sweet, fermented grape juice. “...T-Tell me about yourself.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said…” He swallowed again, for no particular reason this time. He kept a staring contest with his steak. “Tell me about yourself. What kind of...stuff do you like?”

“What kind of...stuff?”

A stifled noise came from Han’s lips, as he did his best to hide a smile. He spared you a polite grin before quickly whispering something to Hyunjin, like a lawyer to a client. “...Never mind!” The beastman awkwardly bleated, to which crimson coated his cheeks. He angrily picked at his plate, and the room once again fell into silence.

That was weird. Switching gears, you glanced down to your wrist. The mark from a bit earlier was still there, now lit up beneath the flickering light. Tentatively, you slipped a spare napkin, rubbing at the ink.

It didn’t budge. You tried wetting the cloth with a bit of wine when the others weren’t looking; thankfully, Hyunjin was too...enthralled in his steak, or something, and Han was too busy whispering to him.

The ink didn’t smudge, either. It was as if the markings were a part of your skin.

When sunrise comes, and all is lost… 

“What do you do for fun?”

“Wha?!” Your head shot up, focusing to see all four eyes on you. Han and Hyunjin glaring at you expectantly. You gulped, taking a deep breath to clear your thoughts. You just couldn’t get that old bat’s wacky slogan out of your head… “...What do I do for fun? Is that what you asked?”

Han gave a single nod, encouraging another conversation attempt. You lowered your head, thinking. It couldn’t hurt to participate in mindless chatter. Just until I get the information I want.

“I like...selling things. And making people happy.”

Hyunjin’s eyes grew just a little. “Is...that what you do for a living?”

“Mm-hm.”

Both men were silent. Hyunjin, in particular, looked like he may have been experiencing indigestion of some sort. Then he scowled. “Shouldn’t you be home with your parents? Taking care of them? Doing something more decent?”

You scoffed. What the heck? Where did that come from? “This is how I take care of them. Almost all the proceeds go back to them. What do you mean, more decent?”

Hyunjin had opened his mouth to speak when Han cleared his throat, jumping in on the conversation. “Does your friend work with you? Her name was…”

“Rei.”

“Yes, Rei! You both sell artifacts and collectibles, right?”

“That’s correct.”

Hyunjin blinked. “Oh…” He relaxed, indigestion cleared.

Placing both hands on your lap, you sat up a little straighter. “So where’s Jeongin?”

The beastman’s face resembled one of annoyance and grief. “Why do you keep asking about him?”

“I…” You took another swing of wine, swirling the contents afterward. Watching as your reflection altered. “I’m just curious is all. Is he doing okay?”

Something like...jealousy?...resided among the beast’s brow and set jaw. “He’s fine. Quit asking. I want you to tell me about yourself. Where are you from? How old are you?”

It was at this point that you’d at last had perhaps one too many swigs of sweet relief and numbness, for you placed down your glass after chugging the last bit. One out of...how many refills of this stuff have you had? “Can’t,” you stated, standing. “I got what I came here for. Now I’m leaving.”

“Leaving?”

Hyunjin...the beast, regarded you incredulously. “Yes, leaving…” You giggled. “Leaving. Leeeeeaving… Like leaves blowing in the wind, leaf-ing.” It was a hop, skip, and a jump to the door some ten or whatever paces away. “I know that Jeongin is okay now...er, wait.” You frowned. Turned around. “How do I know you aren’t lying to me?”

A brow was raised. “You think I’m lying? About my Jeongin?” He snorted. “Why do you care so much about him? Do you know him from a past life? Was he your lover? Do you like him now?”

“Hyunjin…” Han muttered, glaring. “Cool it...please.”

“I will not!” He rose to his feet with twice as much vigor as before, chair flying backward. Han eep-ed. “This dinner is supposed to be about you, and me. Why do you keep bringing up my blacksmith? Tell me!”

Because you were already pretty numb (good gravy what was in the wine?), you just laughed at the fact a beast was getting this angry over something so trivial to you. “Why do you care so much? Do beasts always get this angry?” You groaned, like it was all such a bother. “If you really wanna know, he had a nervous breakdown or something and begged me to come to dinner. But he got all weird...like...there were these moving images, and he started vanishing. I could see right through him!” You sighed, making your exit again. “I just wanted to know if he was alright. Turning into air like that can’t be healthy.”

“Absolutely not.”

You chuckled, nearly at the door. “Exactly, that’s what I’m say—”

“NO!”

Boom! Chik!

...You flinched. Gradually, bit by bit, you inched yourself to partially facing the dining hall.

A chunk of the table was missing. A decently-sized, pretty big chunk, torn right off the left corner. Han, on the opposite side but right next to the disaster, was twisted up like one of the noodles that’d been trapped in Felix’s hair, his face ghostly white.

Hyunjin was seething. “You are not going anywhere outside the confinements of these walls. That is an order.”

Han coughed, waving away dust and floating wood chips with minimal effort so as not to draw too much attention. “O-Okay, easy there, Hyunjin…technically…” He smiled. An apologetic one, voice skittishly squeaky. “Technically, you can’t order her to—”

“I’ll do whatever the hell I want!!! This is my manor, my life, my curse!!!”

“That doesn’t give you the right to order me around!” You screamed. “How dare you raise your voice to me! Over something so stupid and absurd!”

His eyes narrowed to slits, head twitching aside. “What did you just say?”

You mirrored his image. “You heard me. Don’t pretend like you didn’t hear. Surely, as a beast, your hearing is as good as a dog. Or a bat. Or some kind of vermin.” Pushing open the door, you whipped your head around. “I said, I’m leaving.”

Hyunjin’s eyes went wide...then nearly vanished behind a curtain of vexed, enraged brows. “You wanna go so badly? Fine! Get out of here! Go to your room!!!”

“Who do you think you are, my father?!”

“Obviously, running amuck from your parents has left you with a lack of discipline.”

Your jaw went slack. “What did you just say?!?”

Hyunjin smirked, a sarcastically snobbish and mocking tone to his voice. “You heard me. Don’t pretend like you didn’t.”

“Uh!” You raved. “Whatever! I’m going to look for Jeongin myself, since I can’t trust that you’d tell me anything sincere. Then, I’m out of here.”

“What does that mean?!”

“It means I can’t trust anything you say, because you’re a monster!!! Then, I’m going home!”

You couldn’t quite see it, but there was a hint of pain in Hyunjin’s eyes, mixed with scars and years of regret. But everything quickly flooded back to anger and bigotry before you could count to three. “...Get back here! You’re not allowed to leave the manor! I forbid you to go anywhere except straight to your room! Do you hear me?!”

“No!”

“Yes!!”

“No!!”

“FINE!!!”

“Fine!!!”

…Slam.

| Eleven ❧

The rain coming down that night was the only thing stopping you from leaving. Not that you were afraid of a little rain by any means; no, not in the slightest. Rather, it was that you weren’t going to kill yourself over a stupid argument just to get away from a beast. You couldn’t risk catching pneumonia or a silly cold and leave Rei to handle taking care of you and the fort. Plus, there was the matter of Felix...you’d be responsible for him as well. You already told him you would.

...All of that, and it was raining pretty hard.

So here you sat, out in an old web-infested barn, slack atop a stack of hay a few feet away from the open barn doors, just watching the rain fall. Praying it would let up so you could escape. Praying no one would find you here, out in some shabby old building behind the kitchen. And what a nightmare that had been, by the way.

From your left shoulder, Felix did a nervous little jig, spinning in circles twice before bridging across your back to the other side. “Y/n…I don’t know what happened, cause that cheese and wine got me pretty good, but…” He heaved a small mouse-sigh. “...Do you think you maybe overreacted? You don’t seem like a person who gets worked up so easily.”

You scoffed. Wasn’t that right. “Yeah...you’re right. I’m not.”

“Then what happened?”

“......” It took you a moment to gather your thoughts. What did happen? Why did I get so worked up like that? Sure, there was the alcohol. That definitely had an effect. But it wasn’t everything, because now that it was wearing down, now that your mind was clearing and you’d had some time to settle down, to breathe in solitude, you...knew it was something more. There was truth in the midst of all that anger.

Felix was waiting for an answer. So were you.

“I—”

Chunk! “Y/n!!!”

You took a startled breath, turning toward an old door you could have sworn was sealed shut. “Jeongin…?”

It was Jeongin. The red-haired reason you’d decided to stick things out, albeit a little longer. The boy greeted you with flushed cheeks and a lazy smile; he still didn’t look all that well. “Y-Yeah...I came because I heard...you…”

He hunched over, out of breath. The face of another appeared behind him. “Jeongin! I told you to slow down, you’re in no condition to be running around like…” He stopped, blinking into the darkness. “Y/n? Why are you here?”

Brown hair, matching eyes. Mr. Excuse-Me-From-This-Horrifically-Awkward-Dinner. You just smiled, lazily in response. “Hello, Seungmin.”

The young...caretaker nodded, acknowledging you before being swatted away by his patient. A flash of vacancy lit up the night sky as you turned the opposite away, facing the other two in a triangle. Jeongin hustled to shut the barn doors despite Seungmin’s protests, and pretty soon the three...four of you, with Felix taking a nosedive for the hay, sat in awkward silence.

It was almost an encore of dinner not but twenty or thirty minutes ago, though not as worse. It was obvious the two of them wanted to say something, but neither wanted to be the first to speak. Finally, after twenty-odd seconds of nose scratches, unnecessary shifting, and forced coughs, the only employee with a braincell sat up a little straighter.

“Listen,” Seungmin began, using his hands to speak. “About Hyunjin—”

The beast. No thank you. You swatted your hands before you. “I do not want nor need to have another conversation about that ill-mannered buffoon.”

“...I’m pretty sure this is the first one.”

“Second,” Jeongin inquired. “...Right?”

“I’m not counting the first encounter,” Seungmin...countered. “Those never count.”

Jeongin nodded. “Yeah, I can see why—”

“Enough!” You yelled. “...It doesn’t matter if this is the first or second or even the tenth time. I can tell you one thing, it’s definitely the last.”

Seungmin gave you a pitying look. “We all have to walk on eggshells around him.” His voice sounded pleading, borderline apologetic, and all-over exhausted. “...It gets rough, I know. I understand he’s not the easiest person to get along with. He’s very different and outcast and behind the times. But if you could just hear me out for—”

“Hear us out,” Jeongin corrected. He gave you the cutest, saddest smile a boy of his caliber could possibly manage. It made your heart melt; it didn’t help that he was still ill to boot. “I heard what you did for me, Y/n. I really appreciate your concern. No one has ever stayed, especially when one of us...has an...episode.” 

His gaze grew sad and distant. You could feel your heart sizzling in a pool of pity. “...This has happened...before?” you whispered.

Jeongin nodded, Seungmin averting his eyes. “...Yeah.” He said. “Twice to Jeongin, three times to Han, Hyunjin too many to count...and uh…” He scratched his cheek, holding up an index finger. Eyes peeking shyly under the hood of neatly-groomed bangs. “...Once I may have...had a bad day.”

“Wow…” Felix mumbled, head sticking out of the hay barrel. The boy looked like a stray whack-a-mole project. “That sounds rough. Been there done that.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him down with two fingers. He let out a muffled squeak on the way down. “So…” ...You sighed. “...What is it that you wanted to say, then? This is the last time I’m listening. I only went to that banquet to make sure Jeongin was okay.” Another crack of lighting pierced the sky, followed by the ominous rumbling of thunder. “You have maybe ten minutes, since the storm isn’t letting up anytime soon. But after that, I’d like to be left alone in peace until I can leave this joint. Go.”

Seungmin nearly beamed nonexistent sunshine. “That’s plenty of time.”

“Get to the basics. Just the essentials.”

“The company fell under a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry?”

He huffed, running a hand through his hair while Jeongin glanced nervously at the door. “The company, this place. The first thing you need to know about Hyunjin is that he wasn’t always this way. And I’m not just talking about the curse. He’s the son of a wealthy businessman; this is his estate. He owns the whole town...or at least, he did.” His eyes scanned the walls and dusty interior, as if checking to see if someone else was watching. As if taking in the entirety of the estate. “...Now it belongs to Hyunjin. Everything.”

You crossed your arms. “I could have put that together myself. He’s obviously a rich, spoiled brat.”

“There’s more. The people that know him personally know him for who he really is.”

You huffed. Unbelievable, really. “And what would that be?” You pressed. “A monster?”

A bitter silence flushed the room. You instantly felt a pang of resentment at that remark. Perhaps...again, that was a bit too harsh. 

“...I’m sorry.” Your arms laid in surrender across your lap. “Please continue.”

“......” Seungmin glanced to his left. “You wanna pick up from here?”

He leaned back, Jeongin lifting himself to take the lead. “...Hyunjin is a pain in the ass. He’s a pain in the morning, we basically play rock paper scissors to see who has the unfortunate task of waking him up and handling his breakfast, and to decide who’s turn it is to do laundry and lunch we place bets on when he’ll randomly combust in a daily rage or which book he’ll throw across the room first.” He counted on his fingers, listing them off one by one. “For dinner and his bath we usually draw straws or play an old board game, but Han often cheats, so…”

...His voice trailed off, eyes intently examining his mental checklist. You frowned. “...What does any of this have to do with…” Shook your head. “What are you saying again?”

He smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry,” he bowed. Cute. “What I meant to say was that deep down Hyunjin is actually a very kind person, but...I just ended up making him sound like an overly-dependent...man...child.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, twirling a piece of hay around your finger. “Well he sure does seem like it. His manners at the dinner table were atrocious and incredibly beast-like.”

“But you don’t know him like we do,” Seungmin insisted...then smiled, apologetically so, sitting up straight again. “...Forgive me. But what we’re trying to say is, Hyunjin is really a nice guy, he’s just...stuck. You definitely didn’t help with that daily ledger,” he scolded beside him. Jeongin bowed again.

“Well, sorry, I was just trying to—”

“Stuck?”

That lone word rang out like a gunshot. Seungmin and Jeongin both turned to you with sour eyes, the former swallowing a bit uncomfortably. “...Yes, stuck.”

“In what? Time? Space? Adolescence?” You tilted your head. “Because he never learned to grow up?”

“Exactly! ...Sort of.”

You glanced down to the hay-riddled fabric adorning your lap. It’d never really occurred to you to analyze or care anything for Hyunjin’s personal life, mostly because you weren’t planning on staying and the moment you saw him transform, you didn’t want to know. Your instincts told you to run, to flee, to flood your system with a coping-mechanism gene and forget and ignore what you just saw. You wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but you were scared...and who in their right mind wouldn’t be?

...But hearing this now...even given the smallest sliver of insight…

...Well, your mother had often scolded you for being nosy. “So you’re saying he never learned how to...grow up.”

Both boys nodded. “That definitely can be said.”

“And so, that’s why he acts out.” You looked around, questions popping up about the hedge maze in your mind from every direction. “How long has he been alone here? Where are his parents? …How old is he?” Your eyes focused on Seungmin. “What happened to him, exactly?”

“......” Seungmin and Jeongin shared a look. It all but drove you crazy how long it took one of them to answer. “...Do you have longer than ten minutes?”

| Twelve ❧

“Hyunjin was born to a wealthy mother and a poor, impoverished father in the year XXXX. No one knows where or how they met; Hyunjin is very selective and quiet on the matter. However, documents of his mother’s family buried in one of many attics claim they met at some time around the Summer harvest festival, an annual event that used to take place here in New Amber.

“It was the responsibility of noble families to uphold the annual harvest ceremony at the start of the season. As a part of tradition, many noble families and a few middle class families with connections to noblemen and their wives would use this great gathering to announce engagements and arranged marriages, in order to shift the power to new families and invite a sense of balance to the community. Hyunjin’s mother was reportedly sixteen years old at her time of arranged marriage, to the wealthiest family in New Amber next to the king; a family called the Song’s.

“The Song family oversought all affairs in the king’s absence; which he was absent a lot, given his aloof nature and uncaring attitude towards politics. The Song family basically ruled the city with an iron fist; many offers came to them from pushy mothers or greedy fathers who wished for their sons and daughters to tie a knot to the family name, connecting a chain to their own. A man by the name of Yun Jeongsun, Hyunjin’s grandfather, was one such parent. He weaseled his way into the Song’s good graces, and they offered their youngest son to be wed.

“Hyunjin’s mother, Yun Haerin, was against the marriage from the start. She had no interest in marriage, and instead wanted to craft her own trade to be of use to society. She wished to work alongside the Song family, rather than become one herself. As you can imagine, this angered many people; not only did it go against protocol at the time, but refusing an offer from the ruling family was considered a huge offense. And the Song family took it that way.

“As she was packing to leave the city one night— as she’d decided to melodramatically run away from her problems— she was met with Hyunjin’s father, a dirt-scratcher named Hwang Jihoon. The Hwang family had fallen on hard times ten years prior when their oil company snagged a few false investments, and the company went bankrupt and fell under. Having learned to fend for himself and adapt to life on the streets, Hwang Jihoon saved Yun Haerin from some typical back alley bandits, and finding her fancy offered to escort her to her new life outside of town.

“As you can probably guess, the two fell in love during their travels, and settled for a simple life outside of New Amber. However...Hwang Jihoon wanted more for his family. 

“No one in the Hwang family ever forgot or gave up resenting the hardships they faced. And no one especially more than eldest son Jihoon. To summarize and keep this short...Hwang Jihoon became a tyrant. He used Haerin’s maiden name to forge a new path for the Hwang’s, and eventually, the nameless city they had escaped to fell flat. It couldn’t withstand the intense amount of economic tyranny and inflation. The taxation without representation. Hwang Jihoon had swindled his family to the top and drained the entire community dry.

“So they went back to New Amber. For stability. For revenge. Now having the security and stability he needed, which he stole from others, the Hwang family came back with an iron fist of their own. Due to a current drought and a bad economic year, not to mention the king up and abandoning his people, not even the Song family could stand up to them. And promising a new resurrection of New Amber, Hwang Jihoon took the throne.

“He crowned himself King of New Amber and tore half the city apart drilling for oil. As luck would have it, the community had been sitting atop a natural oil reserve that flooded the country back into promising times. Things were actually quite peaceful for the first five years...until they ran out of oil. Taking the snag in stride, however, Jihoon used his deceit and backhanded tactics to manipulate the economy, trading and stealing from other cities. Because he was so crafty, no one caught on until it was too late.

“Hyunjin had been born just a year before. Upon his birth, Haerin and Jihoon began having marital problems, according to a diary entry by Haerin. In it she claims to have regretted her choice in marrying Jihoon, and that she’d fallen out of love with him. She claims that his only interest was power and revenge, tearing down the social hierarchy to make everyone pay— and the unfortunate effects it was having on everyone. 

“In her last entry, Haerin claimed to fear for her life. She wrote that Jihoon had violently threatened to forfeit her life if it meant continuing his reign. She was never seen or heard from after that…”

...Seungmin’s voice grew faint for a while. Tension in the air rose higher, the thickness suffocating.

You couldn’t believe such a tragic and long-rich history had occurred in such a wasteland. It obviously had fallen eventually, but…

You needed to hear more. “...So he killed her? Then what happened?”

Seungmin nodded, slowly. “It likely wasn’t him. Due to his constant appearance in the public eye, it’s more probable to say he hired someone to do the job.”

You shivered. How awful. 

As Jeongin fished out and dusted off an old blanket for you, his light coughs echoing around the barn, Seungmin continued. “With Haerin gone and the Yun family name no longer needed, Jihoon continued to thrive and plunge the city to new heights— and a harder fall. He manipulated the economy to continue spinning in his favor; meanwhile, as years flew by and he became older, he began having thoughts of the future, and who would succeed in his place. Because he was a man with no trust in anyone but himself, he summoned his only son— Hwang Hyunjin— to be molded in lessons of business and trade. How to lie, cheat, and steal.

“Supposedly the brainwashing began around the age of nine. Hyunjin had been a clueless child sent away to be cared for by a few nuns from the community in a remote location before; he’d grown up without any friends, never knowing the love of a mother or father. Only the required care provided by the Sisters of the Church. However, that does not mean he was never unhappy; the sisters did a fine job of raising him, and they truly did grow to love Hyunjin as their own.

“Of course that all changed when he was taken back to the palace. From then on Hyunjin spent his days locked away in the estate’s highest tower, like a prince out of a fairytale; forced into the education of topics he could scarcely fathom. Another maid who kept a journal of her own reported the occasional, almost frequent scream coming from the prince’s tower. She noted them as punishments for incorrect responses and behavior.

“Hyunjin was fourteen when his father died. Five years of torture and humiliation, along with a healthy dose of effective brainwashing, formed him into an angry and bitter soul. Originally, he wanted nothing to do with his father’s company. He wanted nothing to do with the position of king; but being outnumbered and powerless against the force of countless impoverished civilians forced him to make changes. 

“...I did the best I could to help him. As an advisor in training to Jihoon, I truly did what I could. Honestly, seeing him that one day...the day of his coronation...it fascinated me. There, I thought. Up there on the highest balcony. That’s the boy rumored to be the source of the screaming at night. That’s the boy who is Jihoon’s only son. His flesh and blood. The son of the late Haerin, a lasting survivor of the Yun legacy.”

Seungmin took a deep breath here, sighing out into the open space between you. Watching him flashback nearly took your breath away.

“...And so it came to be that Hwang Hyunjin took the downfall of his father’s handiwork. The moment he sat down at the throne, all the lies his father weaved came unraveled. All the shortcuts and manipulation tactics came back to haunt him. All the stolen time and resources were forced to be paid back in full. Hyunjin could hardly bear the weight of it all; the toll was almost too great. Many people saw him as cursed, and up and fled the palace to be with their families in poverty. But they hadn’t seen anything yet...”

“So…” You hesitantly reached a hand forward, then flinched, retracting it. “...I’m sorry to interrupt. But how did he...um…”

Seungmin gave a bitter half-smile, nodding. “Yeah. I’m almost there.

“One night at the head of a harsh Winter, an old woman showed up seeking shelter. Hyunjin was out stalking the palace halls lamenting his position, and upon answering, turned her away.”

Your eyes widened. “She was...the Witch of the Biome. Er, whatever her name is…”

Seungmin nodded. “Yes, that’s right. The Witch revealed herself to Hyunjin, and put a curse upon all who were present within these walls. At the time that was...well, there were a few others, but before you ask about them...they’re gone now.”

You listed your head a moment before realizing what he meant. “...O-Oh...I’m so...sorry…”

The advisor shrugged. “It was a while ago. There was nothing we could do about it. It was their choice…”

Sniffling filled your ear from down below. You bowed your head to find Felix with tears in his eyes, turning to you in need of comfort. Gently, you lifted him onto one leg, hovering cupped hands around him. “And then?”

“Then...well…” He gestured around him. “Here we are today. After the people saw what he had become, families and villagers left, some in hoards, others more sparingly. But eventually the whole city was left to erosion. Hyunjin couldn’t hide his curse forever; and neither could we.” 

He stood suddenly, dusting stands of hay and a few piles of dust from the atmosphere away from him. Outside, the sounds of clarity of nightfall graced your ears.

“So now you know. This is Hyunjin’s story...and our own.”

“So then, why am I here?”

This question seemed to catch Jeongin by surprise; but Seungmin smiled as if anticipating the notion. “The Witch tends to spout riddles about how her curses can be broken; it’s like some weird tick or bad habit while she’s casting them. Or maybe it’s just the incantation itself; no one really knows. However…” He scratched his cheek, looking to Jeongin for confirmation. The red-head nodded. “We were hoping you would be the one to break the curse. You see, the incantation, according to Hyunjin, went something like this:

“Lips to lips and mouth to mouth Calls the speaker of the shrouds Summon forth your courage and might In order to love and end within night But yet if still ye cannot fathom Ending here the chilling anthem Suffer still and face your demise For all the passing days of sunrise.”

The smallest gasp escaped your lips. Sunrise...sunrise. When sunrise comes, and all is lost...

“...Hyunjin sort of lost his way after the curse was cast. Well...no. He’d lost his way a long time ago. I guess what I’m trying to say is, he never found his way to begin with. So he really lost it after the curse hit, and he was forced back into hiding. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Everything was so...messed up. It was just a mess. His whole life had been a dark, night-infested wasteland...much like this town, almost...and then it was like someone came and dropped a hedge maze over it. He didn’t know where to go or what to do. He was already lost. So he just...screamed. And cracked. He broke, like many of the mirrors you’ll find around here. Covering it up with a delusional fantasy. That’s why he acts the way he does; sort of like he’s just existing, and nothing is really wrong. Inside...it’s chaos inside his mind. Just an ill-chosen coping mechanism to disguise the front of war. So, Y/n…”

You flinched at the mention of your name, sitting up straighter. Seungmin looked down upon you with an intense fire.

“Now that you know the story, what will you do? I didn’t tell you all this to guilt you into staying, so I hope you don’t feel that way. Nor did I tell it to scare you. You have nothing to fear but fear itself; something we’ve been trying to teach Hyunjin for a long time…” He sighed.

You glanced around the worn-down barn. At the empty hay barrels, the decaying wood structures, the various puddles of rain seeping in. What were you going to do? It was a tough decision to make...and a lot of information to process.

Your eyes traveled down to the lone marking on your wrist, now appearing to have settled into something bolder. It was definitely a petal, or an ambrosial symbol of some sort. The Mark of the Rose… 

You swallowed hard. It would seem your destiny had led you here. Even if it was a sudden destiny, a fate you never asked for. If you were going to get your old life back, well, it looked like you were going to have to take a detour. “I think...I’m going to do what I have to.”

At the other side of the barn, Seungmin blinked, remaining ever calm and collected since the moment you first met him. Jeongin, on the other hand, bore his eyes into you as if waiting to hear the climax of the story. “And what’s that?” Seungmin asked.

You stood, placing Felix on your shoulder. “You’ll see. Just watch me.”

| End Act One ❧

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

[basicjetsetter]

Part V

♡ Pairing: Peter Parker x Black!FemaleReader

▹ Warnings: Fluffy scenes, anxious moments, cliff-hanger

▹ Words: 3.3k

▹ A/N: We are reaching the eye of the storm. Happy reading!

“ ‘Kay, so there’s no way they’re gonna win this game without him turning into the Wolf, right?”

“Finish watching it, Peter.”

Peter musingly shakes his head, mouthful of his fourth slice of pizza. “There’s no way.”

You level a patient smirk at him and point to the television, wordlessly telling him to see for himself.

The screen’s brightness fills your otherwise dark living room, casting shadows along the angles of Peter’s concentrated face. His body is sloped forward, and if he didn’t possess the body control of an enhanced being, he’d fall face-first into your carpet.

Tonight’s movie selection was your choice, and you didn’t want to disappoint. So when Peter said he’d never seen Teen Wolf, you were over the moon. Usually, you’d watch every single second of the classic film, but with Peter sitting cross-legged next to you, his hip pressed against yours as your crossed leg rests on top of his, you spent the entire time covertly peeking at his fascinated expressions.

Well into the third month of your friendship, Peter’s presence in your apartment remains to be an odd sight in a good way. Out of your ordinary. His first time in your apartment came on a day you both chose to escape the sun’s sweltering heat with A/C and ice cream, and like your first conversation in Hal’s, he never made it weird.

It was effortless. Every moment with Peter was like breathing.

If anyone else suggested Friday-night movie nights, you’d have spared no time shutting them down. But your yes to Peter harbored no resistance.

“No way!” An excited smile spreads across Peter’s face as Scott steps to the baseline to take the game-winning free throw shots. “Is he seriously gonna make these?”

You seal your lips, choosing not to spoil the moment, but Peter doesn’t see. His eyes never stray from the screen, and his lips slightly part from the nail-biting suspense. As the last shot falls through the hoop, Peter’s whole jaw drops.

When the end credits roll, he slowly claps. “That was awesome. Like I’ve got some serious chills. How am I going to top that?”

“Eh, you probably won’t,” you reply with a boastful grin. Hidden joy thrums through your body from his excitement. “Might as well call a wrap on movie nights.”

Peter playfully nudges you with his elbow, then checks his watch. “Ah, man, it’s late. I needed to be on patrol half an hour ago.” He’s up in a flash, slipping his shoes on and chewing up the rest of his pizza.

“Do you have to go?” A hint of sadness tinges your words. 

“Yeah, the city would be a mess without me,” he jokes, but you weren’t remiss of his undertone sincerity. “Oh! That reminds me. Some bad guys are out on a robbing spree lately, tailing people at night, so if you work late, can you ask Chris to walk you home? Y’know, just in case I’m not there.”

He does this every time he’s over. Each week, there’s a new thing or group to be leery of, and each time he asks, you immediately nod to erase the gut-sinking concern in his brown eyes.

You rise from the couch and follow Peter to the door. He turns just as he’s about to twist the handle, stalls for a second, then envelopes you into a small, reluctant hug, leaving his arms lax just in case you wanted to pull away. 

Hugging is new, something you’ve only done about five times. The first was an unplanned disaster featuring a hard shove, repeated apologies, and a long, awkward moment of silence. 

You didn’t mean to push him away. It was one of those moments where, even though the urge to reciprocate was there, you couldn’t allow yourself to find comfort in such an innocent gesture. You weren’t ready. He respected that.

You knew your rash reaction bruised Peter more than he let on, but he learned to ease his way into your comfort zone with small touches. An intentional brush of his hand against yours, scooching closer to you on the couch, hi-fives with minimally laced fingers.

It took a while for the second hug-attempt, but you were cautiously prepared when it happened.

This time around, you return the gesture, winding your arms around his middle and setting your chin on his shoulder, resisting the urge to nuzzle your nose against his warm neck. His closeness frazzles you, even more so when he diminishes the gap between you, holding you tighter to his chest before releasing you and clearing his throat.

“Be safe,” you warn softly.

He puffs out his chest. “I have nothing to fear except fear itself.”

“That confident, huh?”

“Comes with the job. You get knocked down enough times, you get pretty confident once you realize you can always get back up.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. And yet you still have a fear of heights.”

“Never said I wasn’t afraid of falling. Just that it gets easier getting back up. ‘Sides, most of those petty offenders scare easy. All I gotta do is say I can plant eggs in ‘em.” He shudders at the idea himself.

“Please, Peter,” you implore, a smile sullying your stern frown.

Peter’s grin, always so wholesome and calming, blankets over your nerves. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Well, I think Spider-Man needs someone to worry about him, sometimes. Even if he can get back up. Just… let caution work alongside confidence.”

He heeds your words with a more allayed smile, curtly nodding. “Vigilance. I can do that.”

You’re tempted to wrap him back into your arms to protect him from whatever dangers lie outside of your apartment. Instead, you exchange simple goodnights and shut the door once he reaches the stairwell.

The room and your shirt preserve his crisp evergreen scent long after he’s gone. It lingers as you crawl into bed. An aromatic reminder of his caress and warm skin.

As far as friendships go, you’ve never had one quite like this. The line you drew in the sand moves. Accommodates. Shrinks. Whether he’s aware of it or not, the time you spend cracking jokes with Peter at Hal’s, listening to his adventurous feats, becoming comfortable with his physical proximity, seeing his smile and the way his eyes light up when you smile at something funny or interesting he’s said, you fall just an inch.

He's growing on you. His presence. His laughter. His beaconing smile. His tentative touch. His uncanny ability to endear himself to your foreclosed heart.

It was easier to deny the connection when you didn’t know Peter. But now that you do, every moment you’re with him intensifies what you’ve painstakingly tried to avoid.

You’re falling in love with your Soulmate.

✦ ✧✦ ✧

Once again, it’s the Saturday brunch rush, and once again, Hal’s is up to its neck in bloodthirsty customers. All the booths are packed, as well as the stools. Some of the parties compact a seat meant for two with four people, and the aisle clogs with those who just came to grab a cup of coffee and conversation.

Chris is in his element, swinging from one booth to the next like a controlled tornado collecting orders, while you and Wendy are the unfortunate bunch who have to clean up desecrated tables and feed the greedy.

“If someone asks me what the specials are one more time, I’m going to rip my hair out,” Wendy grouses behind the counter as she puts away five menus.

You grumble back the same sentiments. Menus exist for a reason. And most of these people aren’t new to Hal’s, so the fact that they always have to ask grinds your gears.

11:30 a.m. is your saving grace. If you can hold on until Peter gets here, you’ll be fine.

Chris stops by the bar, pocketing what appears to be a twenty-dollar bill. “Lighten up, ladies. At least you’re off tomorrow.”

Wendy, in her 5’3’’ stature, looks feral. “I want to be off now.”

A rowdy group of high-schoolers sitting in the farthest booth is holding a contest to see who could drink a milkshake the fastest, and the two unlucky contestants shriek like banshees from self-inflicted brain-freeze. All three of you wince.

“We don’t get paid enough for this.”

Hal shouts from the back. “Order up! And stop slackin’ off out there!”

Wendy’s eye twitches as she marches to the back to pick up the orders. You’d have acted the same way if you didn’t have something to look forward to.

“They’re not going to tip me. I just know it,” Chris says to you, despondently looking over at the teens’ table again.

“They’ll come around. No one can resist this moneymaker.” You lightly bump him on the chin to indicate his smile. Heck, his whole chiseled face is a moneymaker, but that exuberant smile sells it all.

Over the last three months, just like your friendship with Peter, your friendship with Chris has improved. Even with Wendy. You aren’t at each other’s throats nearly as much as you used to be. Last week, she complimented your hairstyle, though it was immediately followed up with a snide comment: progress, either way.

Chris laughs. “And here I thought my friendly personality racked up all the tips.”

“It’s a bonus.”

He chuckles again, then blows out a hesitant breath. “So, Y/N…”

“So, Chris…”

“There’s, um, there’s gonna be another music festival in Cunningham Park tonight, and I was wondering if, y’know, you and Peter might want to come and hang?”

You and Peter… As if you were a pair. An item. A couple. To unsuspecting eyes, you knew you and Peter seemed to be just really good friends. Not even Hal questioned why you spent half an hour talking to him every weekday. If he had an inkling of who Peter actually was to you, he’d have confronted you by now.

Chris, on the other hand, kept a sharp eye on you when Peter was around. As meticulous as you were about keeping up pretenses in public, sometimes you’d slip. Your smile would be a tad too bright when Peter walked through the door and took his usual seat. You’d giggle at his jokes too loud. You’d stare into his eyes too long. Signs too blatant for Chris to miss.

You’re just waiting for him to put the last piece in the puzzle.

“I’d… I’d have to ask Peter.” You take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “But, yeah, I’ll go.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Sure. Sounds like it’ll be fun. What time is it?”

Chris lays a hand on your forehead. “Temp seems fine. Pupils aren’t dilated. How many fingers am I holding up?”

You swat his hand down with a laugh. “Shut up.”

“Look, I know you probably don’t want me saying this out loud, but I’m glad you met Peter. We all are.”

“Why?” Evidently, you’re not that great at hiding your feelings as you thought.

Chris leans against the bar top, keeping an eye on the door just in case customers walked in. “Well, for starters, you literally just agreed to hang out with me for the first time since you started working here, which was—what—two years ago. And… you… I don’t know. You’re more open, y’know? Smiling and such.”

“I smiled before,” you say, a little defensive.

“Not like you do now. Before, it was all—,” Chris screws his mouth up. It’s strange. Alienated and wire-tight. The corners of his lips don’t fully come up, and it barely reaches his eyes. You instantly recognize it—the smile you hid behind.

Did you really smile like that? How is it that you never noticed how off-putting it was? If a server ever smiled at you like that, you’d assume they wished you disappeared off the face of the earth. Is that the smile people saw? More importantly, when did you stop putting it on?

“Two more strawberry milkshakes over here!” shouted one of the brain-freeze victims.

Chris hops to it. Always the perfect server. On his way to make the shakes, he says, “7 p.m.”

“I’ll be there.”

You weren’t going to confirm for Peter until he was there to answer for himself, but he doesn’t show. 11:30 a.m. and the rest of your shift flies by without a sight of him, which is strange, but not uncommon. Homework might have him tied up. September is a pretty busy month for schoolwork, and mid-terms are approaching, so he might be buried in assignments.

Worry doesn’t settle in until you’re getting ready for the music festival at 6:30 p.m., and Peter still hasn’t sent so much as a voicemail.

Evening summer sunlight filters in through your open window, the active sounds of Queens’ busy streets and subway station not allowing your room to fall quiet. Nights like this are perfect for outdoor festivals because it’s warm enough to sit in the grass and not bring a jacket.

Rather than enjoy the idea of getting out for the first time in years, your mind remains hooked on Peter.

It’s not like him not to leave a text if he’s caught up in other things. He’d make sure to tell you where he is, how far away. Since the beginning of this friendship, starting with his little notes, Peter’s constant communication wasn’t something you expected. But now that you do, this behavior just doesn’t match what you’re used to.

You pace the floor of your small bedroom, back and forth, wall to wall, abusively chewing your lower lip and turning your phone around in your hand, working up the nerve to call him, summoning up the will to voice your concern if he did answer.

When you do call, you get his voicemail. Trying again, you end up with the same result. Okay. He’s not picking up his phone.

Fear foregrounds your frustration. It bleeds into your words as you leave your fifth message. One after the other, they morph from mild concern to despairing panic. As the sun dips lower and lower on the horizon and the orange sunlight dwindles, so does your desire to go out.

Because… maybe you shouldn’t go. Maybe you should search for Peter. Finding any trace of him at all would be a stretch, and Chris might be upset about you ditching your plans the next time you see him, but you can’t possibly go out knowing something may be horribly wrong with Peter.

No. No, you won’t cancel plans like that. Peter is fine. Of course, he’s fine. He’s Spider-Man. His duties as a hero come first, no matter what. And he wouldn’t want you to stress so much about him.

Wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, he is okay. He’s alive. You feel it.

Somehow, you break the trance of your pacing and convince yourself to grab a cab ride to the park. When you arrive, the festival appears to be at a content standstill. It’s not as crowded as you assumed it would be for a Saturday night. Many of the attendants, ranging from all ages, are sitting on the grass, soaking up the fading rays of the sun while the bands finish up prepping. You’re greeted by the distinctive smell of hotdog vendors intermingled with ripening leaves.

There is nothing truly scenic about Cunningham Park, aside from the interspersed trees and trails. You’d been here a handful of times when you were younger, hanging out with friends during summer break, and one thing you loved about the park back then is how the sun shone through the leaves, casting an ethereal glow on nature.

You’re more appreciative of its beauty without the sun’s effect.

It wasn’t that hard finding Chris. All you had to do was look for the person most likely garnering friends from other groups. He’s on a blanket, seated in the center of the crowd and chatting with a group of three people.

When you’re close enough to be spotted, Chris’s face mouth out into a wide smile.

“You came!” Then his eyes roamed around. “Where’s Peter?”

You try for a carefree grin but let it fall when the effort became too much. “He couldn’t make it. School stuff.”

“Oh, well, that’s fine.” His smile drops fractionally, less joyful and more sympathetic. “I’m really glad you made it. Hey, guys. This is Y/N, my friend from work.”

You wave a little and hope for a genuine smile to grace your lips as they all scoot to make room for you on the blanket.

Chris introduces them all. He points to a buff, curly-haired guy named Dez, who you wouldn’t have guessed would be the type of guy to enjoy small park festivals. He looks like the kind of person who regularly crowd-surfs at huge concerts and somehow always winds up with a VIP pass. The next person is a slender girl named Asha, who has thick black hair knotted into a messy soccer bun and a glowing smile. 

The last person Chris introduces you to is his Soulmate. You knew just by the way he said his name. Resounding. Reverent. Borderline fanatic. His name is Quint, and unlike the others, he wraps you up in a surprising hug. What’s even more surprising is you hugging back.

“Nice to finally meet you.” His voice is richly robust, exactly how you would expect someone with his Adonis-like face to sound. Two gorgeous, outgoing Soulmates just seems unfair.

“Nice to meet you, too.” You can’t help looking from Quint’s face to Chris’s, then back again, and wondering if this is what people see when they see you and Peter—a perfect match. “Chris has told me a lot about you. All great things.”

“He better,” Quint says, jokingly gazing at Chris as a blush flared across Chris’s cheeks. “And he’s told me a lot about you and Peter.”

There it goes again: people pairing you two. It’s hard not to notice how natural that sounds, as though you two were meant to be spoken about as an inseparable whole.

You brush off your startled expression as best you can and ask, “Good things, right?”

He nods, then shares a smile with Chris. “I would’ve liked to meet him.” You roughly translate that to mean, ‘I would’ve liked to meet you both.’ The blush on Chris’s face deepens into an embarrassingly bright shade of red when he catches your eye.

A plucked, low-pitched guitar string echoes out to the crowd and effectively commences the start of the music festival. You must’ve missed the band's introduction because they got right into their music, playing a melancholic pop song that sounded pretty good. You were more interested in the guitar riffs and melodic piano notes than the lyrics, but they’re no doubt about love.

Halfway into their set, your stomach growls, and you remember that you didn’t have anything to eat since you got off work. The whole thing with Peter staved off your hunger. He’s still in the front of your mind, but you’re doing your best to enjoy the night with Chris and his friends.

Standing up, you tell Chris, “I’m gonna get a hotdog.”

He tilts his chin up in acknowledgment, then goes back to swaying his head to the music.

You got up just in time to beat the line. There are only two vendors in the park, and they’d be slammed once the music hits its intermission. The one you’re at resides near the outskirts of the crowd, closest to where you left the group, and two people are in front of you.

You wish Peter were here.

Your hand touches the outline of your phone in your back pocket while you wrestle with the idea of calling him again. Maybe he’ll pick up this time.

You’re just about to unlock your phone when you hear someone calling your name—a girl.

The voice gets closer and more breathless, like they’re running at you full speed ahead and couldn’t reach you fast enough. You turn to the sound just as the body slams into you, yanking you out of line and clutching you to their frame.

“Where the hell have you been?!”

You pull away and stare straight into her face, not trusting your own eyes. “Manda?"

...

Taglist: @alexandria-euphoria​

[horansqueen]

Stuck With You - Chapter 10

Chapter 10 : If Only

🡪chapter 1  🡪chapter 2  🡪chapter 3  🡪chapter 4  🡪chapter 5  🡪chapter 6   🡪chapter 7  🡪chapter 8  🡪chapter 9

College Enemies To Lovers AU

characters // masterlist // instagrams // mood board

Well every single time I see you I start to feel this way It makes me wonder if I am ever gonna feel this way again. Then I hear myself reply "You've got to hold it in" this time tonight There's a feeling screaming in the back of my head Saying it over and over

If only I had the guts to feel this way if only you'd look at me and want to stay if only I’d take you in my arms and say That I won't go cuz I need you

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                                         What woke me up the next day is the sound of someone walking quickly but gently around the room. I felt a shiver cross my whole body, realizing I didn't have any blanket over me. I reached for one and pulled it over me, ready to fall asleep, when I remembered my evening. I had spent a good part of the evening locked in a bathroom with Niall, he drove me and Louis home, we lied down in the same bed but most of all, he had kissed me. I felt my heart flutter as I held my breath, living over the kiss in my head. His body was warm, just like his lips, and I whimpered low as the moment played over and over in my head.

"Shit!" someone whispered after a light sound.

It made me frown and I forced myself to wake up and sit in bed, my palm pressing and rubbing my tired eyes. Niall had kissed me, it was true, but he had also ran away right after, and that meant I had no idea what was going on in his mind, or what I could expect from him this morning. His mood swings, or whatever it was, were driving me insane.

"Niall?"

He turned to me suddenly, his eyes getting slightly bigger when he noticed I was awake, and held his breath. His eyes roamed on me and I immediately felt self-conscious. I probably looked like an idiot, but at the same time, it wasn't the first time he was seeing me in the morning.

"Hey uhm, go back to bed, I didn't want to wake you up." he let out low but a bit nervously. "I just needed to get changed and pick my stuff, I have somewhere to be."

I pressed my lips together, blinking a few times until I was completely awake, and started playing with my fingers.

"Niall, about last night-"

He kept rummaging through his stuff without looking at me. "Look, Devon." he cut me with a sigh. "I don't really have time to deal with that right now."

The first thing that hit me was how hurt I was that he hadn't called me 'Devie', the way he always does. I knew it was mostly to tease me, but it actually grew on me and I ended up liking it. No one else had ever nicknamed me like that before.

"What do you mean, 'deal with it'?"

"I mean I don't have time to talk, okay?" he grabbed his back pack, eyeing his guitar and finally sighing again. "I'll be back late. Or not at all. Hope you have a nice day."

My eyes followed him as he walked until the door, opening it and glancing back at me before leaving. The door closed behind him and that's when I realized I was holding my breath. I emptied my lungs and inhaled again before closing my eyes and sighing. It could have been worse. At least, he had acknowledged me. He had even talked to me, and looked at me, which were two things he didn't really do during the low moments of his mood swings, so that was something, right?

I brought my hand to my mouth, running two of my fingertips on my bottom lip, remembering when he kissed me once again. I never thought a simple kiss could obsess me that much but it did. There was something about Niall that I needed, something that I lusted, something that I wanted... and I couldn't explain it. But I had to face reality, even if admitting it, even to myself, seemed totally horrible. I liked Niall. I really really liked Niall. For the most part, he was the opposite of my ex boyfriend, at least when he was in a good mood, and I chuckled low when I realized it was probably his best quality, which obviously didn't mean that I liked when he'd ignore me. In fact, that was something I really hated, and that reminded me of my ex boyfriend, unfortunately. I had been played so much before and I had promised myself no one would ever use me that way again. There must have been something extremely wrong with me if the men around me would ignore me whenever they didn't feel like it, right? I was not a toy to play with, and I deserved so much better... didn't I?

I sighed again and my eyes fluttered open. Of course, Niall didn't owe me anything, and the fact that I desperately wanted him in my life was going to remain a secret. I just wished he wouldn't pretend nothing had happened, because something had, and clearly, it had meant something. It was not alcohol, since neither of us really drank, and that kiss couldn't be excused by an intoxication. Thinking about it made me feel ecstatic and I cleared my throat, trying to push the thought away.

All the thoughts, questions and memories in my mind kept getting mixed together, confusing me even more. I finally decided to take a quick shower and dress up before leaving my room. I had nothing to do and nowhere to go but I ended up walking around without a specific destination. It was no surprise when I ended up in front of my unfinished painting. I stared at it for a while, blinking as I focused on the navy blue slowly turning into black on my canvas, before finally sitting in front of it. I felt something twist in my stomach at all the feelings reaching me as I looked at my own painting and the pain inside me was sharper than a knife. To me, what was on this canvas was so obvious that I felt naked and somehow, it made me think about Niall and when I saw him write a song on the piano. I had seen him vulnerable in a way too when I spied on him as he composed a song, and even if I still felt guilty about it, it made me see a side of him that I probably would have never seen in any other circumstances. I felt like I connected with him because of that and as my eyes roamed on my panting, I realized perhaps he couldn't connect with me the same way. After all, I hadn't opened up to him and he didn't see any of my art either.

I sat in front of my half-done painting and without thinking, I grabbing my brush and started adding colors. I had done a few nature paintings before, and I did enjoy the techniques and dimensions, but throwing paint at my canvas depending on how I felt had always been my favorite form of art, if only because it was abstract and I didn't have to follow many instructions except those my guts and heart were telling me.

I ended up straining my pants and shirt but it didn't matter. After half an hour, I was done, and my lips parted when I realized I had never worked so fast before. I stared at my creation, immediately hating it even if I knew it would pass, and I closed my eyes. I breathed in an out for about a minute and finally opened my eyes again. My painting was still there and my heart twisted in my chest. It surprised me because I was pretty sure I had thrown all of it on that fucking canvas.

I got up and licked my lips, breathing in deeply and taking a step back. I decided to leave it there and perhaps, at some point, I could show it to Niall. Maybe I would have the guts to show him all the feelings inside me, all the things I had gone through, all the betrayal, rejection and fake love I had received before even knowing him... but it wouldn't be today.

I finally turned around and left, walking very quickly and randomly in the halls. I realized it was not so random when I heard the notes on a piano and a voice that I could recognize anywhere now, especially because it always brought a special kind of pain in my chest.

"Dear Patience If I pour my heart out, can you keep a promise? 'Cause the situation Is like a mountain that's been weighing on my conscience If I'm being honest"

I held my breath and only pushed the air out of my lungs when the notes and the voice stopped. I moved closer to the door and peaked inside, my heart jumping at the sight of Niall, scribbling in a notebook. Once again, he was sitting in front of his piano and when he brought his fingers back over the keys, I held my breath again.

"Hey, can you show your face? Can you see that I'm anxious? Can you hear what I'm saying, saying? Hey, 'cause I fall too fast And I go down blazing Can you hear what I'm saying?"

My eyes fluttered close and I pressed my lips together, the sound of the notes invading me as his voice made my whole body throb. I leaned against the wall but tripped on my feet, letting out a curse word. The piano and the voice stopped at the same time and quickly, I turned around and left. I felt like my heart was about to explode in my chest when I heard a "Hey!" coming from behind. I brought my shoulders up and closer to my cheeks but didn't slow down until he reached me. His hand touched my upper arm gently and swiftly, I turned around, coming face to face with Niall.

"Devie, hey."

My lips curled slightly at the nickname and I licked my lips. "S-Sorry Niall, I didn't want to spy, I just-"

"What are you doing here, Devie?" he cut me, frowning at me as he put his hands on his hips, staring down at me. "What's wrong?"

"N-Nothing I just, I felt like painting." I explained, shrugging a shoulder. "So I painted. And then I heard a piano and a voice. And it was you. That's all."

"Pretty sure the painting class isn't around here." he pointed out, making me blink a few times.

I started playing with my fingers nervously and swallowed. "I know, I just walked around and ended here."

I glanced around us, noticing there was literally no one around. Everyone was probably doing something else with their sunday, something like relaxing, spending time with friends, or any other hobby normal people have.

"Okay." he replied, crossing his arms over his chest and making me even more anxious.

"I thought there would be like ten of you, singing random songs together whenever you didn't have class." I joked with a chuckle, making him smile.

"This is not a Disney movie, you know." he pointed out, smiling more. "There's a lot of heavy curse words and throwing notebooks and pens around the room violently."

This time, I laughed and shook my head as he took a step closer, letting his arms fall on each sides of him. He frowned a bit and bent down slightly to look at me before bringing one of his hands up again. My heart threatened to get out of my chest when his face was only a few inches away from mine and I couldn't help but think he was about to kiss me again. Instead, I felt my eyes flutter as he brought his thumb right under my eye, on my cheekbone.

"You're got some blue paint here." he whispered before wiping it slowly.

I felt disappointed that I couldn't feel his lips on mine again, but the way he had touched me made me feel a bit dizzy and my lips parted.

"Thank you." I breathed out, staring at him.

"Don't thank me." he chuckled. " I think I made it worse."

I chuckled too and licked my lips before pressing them together. "Look, Niall, about last night."

"Dev, I need to go, okay? I'll see you soon."

"Wait, Niall!" I let out, taking a step closer as he took one back. "I just-"

"Sorry!"

He turned around and started jogging back to where he came from and I sighed a bit too loud. The truth was, I had no idea what I was going to tell him. That I liked the kiss? That I wanted to kiss him again, and maybe even more? That I actually liked him? That simple thought was ridiculous, no... I would have probably ended up telling him that it was ok, that I knew he regretted it, and that we could pretend it never happened. It was not what I felt, but what else could I tell him?

I could have just gone back to talk to him. After all, I knew exactly where he was and what he was doing, but I decided against it. I couldn't force him to talk to me and maybe it was better this way.

I stood motionless just staring in front of me for a while, until I heard my phone. I grabbed it from my pocket, almost dropping it, and noticed all the blue and black paint on my hands. Now I knew how some of it had ended up on my cheek. I wouldn't admit it out loud, but I was happy it did, if only to have this interaction with Niall.

'Dinner. With me. Tonight.'

I smiled fondly at my phone and quickly typed a reply to Louis.

'How about now? I'm starving.'

He just replied with a thumb up emoji and I walked back to my room, smiling when I saw Louis leaned against my door, hands in his pockets and ankles crossed.

"Hey you!" I just said when I stopped in front of him. "How's your head today?

"Bad. My whole body hurts. It feels like I was ran over by a truck. How are you?"

"I didn't really drink." I admitted with a shrug. "You know, in case you needed someone to bring you back home."

"You needed to be sober to ask Niall for a ride?" he asked with a frown, a smirk gracing his lips.

I raised my nose in a grimace and groaned low, making him laugh. He moved closer and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me into a hug. His hoodie was soft and warm and I just closed my eyes, inhaling deeply his scent. It reminded me of how good Niall smelled last night, in my bed, and I felt my heart jump in my chest. I recognized this feeling, and I hated this feeling.

"So, how about chinese food?"

----

"Wait, he kissed you?"

We had decided to eat in his room, sitting on the floor, and I thought we would put a movie on but we just ended up talking together. I loved talking with Louis, he was pretty much my only friend here anyway. Hell, he was probably the only friend I had in the whole wide world.

"Mmhm, but then you were sick and he brought you back to your room and spent the night with you." I explained, my eyes locked on the noodles in my bowl at I moved my spoon in it.

Letting all that out was embarrassing but at the same time, I felt like Louis was the only one I could share this with. I was also extremely confused by Niall's behavior and by mine, too. What was I doing exactly? Why did I want to get closer to Niall so bad and why did it matter if he was nice to me or not?

"Ouch, sorry about that." he grimaced before I shrugged. It was not Louis' fault and I would never blame him for it. "Wow, I can't believe he kissed you." Louis added in a low tone before putting way too many noodles in his mouth and chewing. "Never thought he'd make a move so early."

"What?" I asked as my heart skipped a few beats. "Why do you say that?"

He stopped chewing and his eyes met mine as I remained motionless, my lips slightly parted. Did I really hear what I thought I heard?

"Dev, do I have to state the obvious?" he asked, raising his eyebrows as I frowned. "Niall likes you!" he added a bit louder before chuckling. "He's liked you since the first day he met you!"

My frown turned into a smile and I rolled my eyes with a chuckle. "Yea, sure, of course." I let out sarcastically, putting my bowl away and leaning against his bed. "Niall Horan likes me."

The thought was so ridiculous that I laughed a bit more and shook my head.

"He does."

"He's been an ass to me since day one. He's rude to me or ignores me. Just because he kissed me one time doesn't mean he actually has feelings for me."

Louis kept quiet and when I turned my head to look at him, he was staring at me with a smirk on his face, noodles in his fork up in mid-air.

"What?"

"You like him." he pointed out, making me suddenly embarrassed as I frowned again.

"No."

"You fookin' like him!" he repeated, bursting into laughter. "You should see your face!"

"Shut up!"

Louis pushed my upper arm slightly, making me tilt slightly as I groaned. I hated that he said that because I hadn't admitted that to myself just yet. Perhaps, the fact that I liked Niall was very obvious but I just hoped it was not. I didn't even know how to deal with that new feeling and I certainly didn't want anyone to try and analyze how I felt.

"You like him!" he added, making me groan low again before I turned and pushed him gently at my turn.

The cup of noodles slipped out of his hand and ended on my thighs. I let out a short yell and held my breath as the warm liquid soaked my pants and the bottom of my shirt.

"Fuck! I'm sorry!" Louis let out before chuckling again. "Sorry, this is way too funny!"

He got up as I remained still, trying not to make it worse. After a few seconds, he handed me a hoodie and I just stared at it. What would Niall say if I walked back to our room wearing Louis' hoodie? I knew it shouldn't bother me but Niall seemed to get pissed whenever I said something about Louis and I felt like it would make things worse between us.

"Thanks Louis, but I'll just go get changed." I just said, getting up, feeling how drenched my pants were. "It's not like my room was very far."

"Okay, I'll pick a movie while waiting for you, if you want."

"Mmhm, good idea."

I walked out of his room and reached mine with only a few steps and without thinking, I turned the knob and opened the door. Niall was there, completely naked, laying on top of the brunette I remember seeing at the party, the one he had his arm around. They both stopped what they were doing when they noticed me and Niall turned his head to look at me. I suddenly felt nauseous and dazed, so much that I had to hold the knob harder and lean my other hand on the door frame.

I could swear I saw guilt in Niall's eyes but I was probably just dreaming.  I blinked a few times, swallowing the tears that threatened to come out. It was so tough to do that it started physically hurting and I just cleared my throat.

"Sorry, I just..."

"Why don't you just get the fuck out?" I heard the brunette yell.

I didn't send her a glance. I just kept looking at Niall, feeling my heart twist so hard in my chest I could swear it had completely broke, and the worse was that he stared back. He was deep inside an other girl and his eyes were on me, and all I could think about was that I hoped my pain was not showing on my face, because I didn't want him to know that I was fucking hurt by the fact that he was shagging an other girl after kissing me less than 24 hours before.

Like an idiot, I waited. I waited for what seemed like an hour, but was probably just about a minute. I waited for him to apologize. I waited for him to tell me it meant nothing, and that it was a mistake. But I waited in vain because after a while, his gaze just dropped, and I decided that I had seen enough. I had waited enough. I didn't know what I was expecting anyway.

"Fuck you."

My voice was low but firm and with those words, I took a step back and closed the door gently.

--

REQUEST

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

“Forget what I said,

It’s not what I meant

And I can’t take it back

I can’t unpack the baggage you left.”

- Falling, Harry Styles

A/N: the long anticipated third installment of “that angsty threesome story.” this shit hurted y’all. that’s all i’m gonna say. hope you enjoy :) 

Sharing Isn’t Always Caring masterlist

word count: 13k

content: A N G S T, drunk sad!harry, melancholic relationship flashbacks, and Niall being an amazing friend. oh and lots of pining pain 

preview:

“Y/N, I am so sorry.”

He really didn’t know what to expect on her part but he was willing to take anything she deemed fit. Screaming, yelling, cursing— anything. Anything was better than the suffocating silence that had been hanging over his head for what had felt like eons. 

What he didn’t expect was the energy he received in response. It wasn’t brutal or enraged or bitter, it was just…hollow. It was tired and defeated, as if she’d spent hours combing through her feelings to the point of surrendered exhaustion. She held no spite or resentment, just a tone of flatlined renunciation and honest common sense.

“I know.” 

The answer was curt and calm and for some reason, it packed a harder punch than anything he could’ve imagined. He would have rathered she tell him off and shout in his face and even slam things; at least then he would know she was still sorting through the ordeal and trying to come up with a resolution. 

But this was way more difficult to stomach. If she had no screaming or crying left in her, it meant she had already come to her senses on the matter. It meant he had no wiggle room, no chance to change her mind, no way to win her back. It was cold and condemning; it felt like a death sentence.

or Harry and Y/N breakup after the incident and the next two months are the worst either of them have ever known

///

Two months and thirteen days. 

That’s how long Harry and Y/N have been broken up. 

It’s poetically ironic, if you ask him, and he felt like the universe was playing a cruel game at his expense. Though it’s not like he didn’t deserve it. 

The length of time that had passed was coincidentally parallel to how much time he had spent sitting on his couch that dreaded Saturday morning— which had been two hours and thirteen minutes— wringing his hands, boiling in his regret, and waiting for her to come out of their bedroom with a verdict on their relationship. 

When Y/N had finally surfaced from her hiding spot, she had barely acknowledged him other than a few one-worded, snipped answers to his questions. She was headed out, she’d said, and that she would return later. Her path had been straight for the front door and the body language and aura she had displayed from the frame of their room door to the frame of the front door had been enough to clearly communicate a simple message: Don’t come after me. 

He had followed her to the edge of the corridor that led to the exit, but he knew better than to chase her once she was out of the door. He remained put and watched her walk out without so much as a glance back. 

She needed time, he had assured himself. Y/N needed a chance to cool off on her own and smothering her would do nothing but dig him further into the hole he was already neck-deep in. 

In hindsight, Harry should have gone after her. Maybe it would’ve made a difference, or maybe it wouldn’t have at all, but all he’s aware of now is that he’d never know.

The minute she got back, a few hours later when the sun had just finished dipping over the stretch of forest that extended beyond the balcony of their apartment, he could immediately tell he had to prepare for the worst. 

From the second Harry had met Y/N, he had always been able to read her. It’s something he prided himself in and something he always admired about the connection they shared— that it had been instant. It had been one of those rare pockets in life when he met someone and clicked with them automatically, so effortlessly that it was almost fictional. He’d always been a hopeless romantic and he had his mother and sister to thank for that; growing up with two women who constantly fed him stories about true love and the importance of emotions had molded his relationships down to the very core. And through that characteristic, which had been engraved within the man he had grown into, was how he and Y/N so easily came to be. 

Harry had been able to read the nervous excitement she was wading through on their first date, watching her with fond amusement as she had contemplated the menu, trying to pass as nonchalant but being betrayed by the obvious cinch in her brows. 

He had been able to read the first time she had wanted him to kiss her, eyes absorbing her features like the pages of a novel. He had picked up on the metaphors she depicted in the form of wine-swollen lips twitching with longing anticipation. He had picked up on the similes that translated into her slowly dilating pupils, the glittering specks of color that shimmered in the depths of her irises dancing with anxious enthusiasm as his face drew closer to her’s. He had picked up on the analogies that painted themselves onto the warm, supple skin of her cheeks as he cupped the side of her face with the palm of his large hand, fingers tucking lose strands of hair behind her ear as he thumbed over the faint smile lines chesiling themselves into existence along the edges of her mouth, her action thick with enamored awe. 

He had been able to read just how taken Y/N was with him the first time they had slept together. It was certain in how she had clung to the bare, sweaty muscles of his shoulders as her nails clawed memories along the soft sides of his torso, her head dangling over the edge of the kitchen island to allow him the intimate comfort of pressing hot, wet moans to the searing skin of her throat. He had whined and shuddered as he’d spread her open over the cold marble surface, fogging it with the heat of their conjoined bodies, the air tinged with the scent of desperate sex and blurbs of orgasm-drunken praises that to this day he can feel burn his lungs. Barely coherent mumbles of “God, been needing you for the longest time now.” and “Fuck, you’re an absolute dream.” and he had even made himself susceptible to some of his deepest vulnerabilities, confessing how quickly and dangerously he was falling for her in a breathless little whimper of, “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.” 

Tiny zaps of invisible electricity had passed through her fingertips and into the flexing tendons of his back, revealing that she was just as scared and jittery and needy and absolutely whipped for him as he was for her. He had never been able to read her better than at that intense, emotion-packed moment, and he knows he’ll cherish that wordless instance of assurance for as long as he lives. 

The only other occasion that competes is the first time Harry had known Y/N loved him. They had planned to go bar-hopping with their friends but, in a spur of laziness and utter disinterest, had decided to stay back. The night had been filled with board games and hot chocolate and half-burnt quesadillas because Harry had bought a new panini press that he didn’t quite yet know how to work. He knew she loved him when he beat her at CandyLand for the third time in a row and in a whirlwind of victory dancing, he had knocked the coffee table with his knee and ended up with cooled cocoa all over his striped pajama pants rather than in his belly. 

He knew she loved him because she wasn’t upset that she’d have to help get the stain out and she wasn’t mad that he’d gotten marshmallow goo on the carpet and she wasn’t angry that his silliness had ended with her favorite vase rolling across the ground. All Y/N had been focused on was Harry and that ridiculous wide-toothed grin of his, her own lips nestling into an endeared smile as he giggled out of sheer shock at his ruined pants, clutching his stomach and throwing his head back against the couch cushions. Through teary, delight-blurred vision he saw her staring at him with this doe-like gaze, her eyes soft and glossier than he’d ever seen them, a tender laugh evident on her cheeks. Her eyebrows had been slightly furrowed with a type of disbelieving wonder at the utter moron she had chosen to share her heart with, but specifically at how she loved him all the more for it. 

That’s when Harry had read that she loved him and she had confirmed it with words about ten minutes later as they both sat on their knees against the ground, scrubbing at the mess he’d made and sharing soft little snickers under their breath. 

In the end, all of these milestone moments in their relationship had all funneled through his mind the minute Y/N had walked back into the living room on that forsaken day, hours later. They all sped past the inside of his eyelids every time he blinked, each one dissipating with each step she drew closer. She had stood before him as he sat forward tensely on the couch, forearms propped on his knees as he grasped his knuckles nervously, though they had stopped cracking ages ago. 

It all flashed back to him like a film on fast-forward and it was because for the first time ever, he wasn’t able to read her face and it fucking terrified him. 

Y/N’s eyes were the first factor that had given away the impending end. Even at the darkest of times, Harry could always count on Y/N’s eyes for support. They had always held a permanent admiring warmth towards him, even beneath clouds of rage or annoyance or worry. They had been empty that day. 

Her lips had been etched into a emotionally-detached straight line, though the corners dipped down ever so slightly. Her eyebrows were void of any wrinkle, groove, or lifting that would suggest even a smidge of sensitivity and somehow her cheeks seemed more sunken in, as if the last couple of hours had aged her years. 

Y/N had approached him with her hands cradling each other before her stomach, footsteps heavy against the carpeted ground, muffled yet somehow loud. She’d taken a seat before him on the glass coffee table, knees pressed together tightly and unintentionally brushing his as she settled her hands into the crease between her inner thighs, nails digging into her palms. Her shoulders hunched forward as if the weight of the world was using her back as shelf, the flyaway hairs that had fallen from her ponytail kissing along her jaw and caressing her temples almost apologetically, as if trying to comfort her for what was next. 

Y/N hadn’t spoken a single word before Harry was already breaking down. 

It wasn’t dramatic or spontaneous like the break-up scenes in the rom coms he often fancied; it was quiet and concise. The hot tears streamed down his cheekbones and followed the slope of his sharp jaw, squeezing out of his tear ducts and rolling along the bridge of his nose, itching the very tip, to which his instincts responded by spurring him into wiping away the water with the front of his shoulder. 

Harry couldn’t bring himself to look up at her out of self-hatred and shame— how could he be as selfish as to cry when everything that was about to unfold had been solely of his doing. He knew he didn’t deserve the best outcome, but he had hoped for it. Prayed that she could find it in her tattered heart to grace him with the option to rebuild what he had so recklessly torn down. He didn’t deserve it and he’d felt like he never would, but he had promised himself he would try and earn it if she gave him the chance. 

But that was just the hopeless romantic in him flaring up again. Reality was sharper and much icier. 

Harry had taken in a deep, trembling inhale, feeling it cut his lungs and tug at the pit of his stomach. He’d released it in stuttery spurts through his nose, back muscles contracting with dread. He found it in himself to uncoil one of his index fingers, gently grazing the curve of Y/N’s right knee with the bed of his nail. 

She’d tensed up momentarily, toes curling into the rug below her feet, but didn’t shed him away. It was the first time he’d touched her since last night and though it made her feel sick to her stomach, she figured she’d allow it as a parting gift. 

The air stood still for a few elongated seconds that seemed to drag out for an eternity. Finally, one of them spoke up. 

“Y/N...” Harry had choked on the singular word, swallowing thickly in an attempt to recuperate. 

The syllables seemed to lodge in his throat, outright refusing to emerge, likely due to the fact that he spent the day soundlessly moping to himself. He forced them out anyways in a low croak. 

“Y/N, I am so sorry.”

He really didn’t know what to expect on her part but he was willing to take anything she deemed fit. Screaming, yelling, cursing— anything. Anything was better than the suffocating silence that had been hanging over his head for what had felt like eons. 

What he didn’t expect was the energy he received in response. It wasn’t brutal or enraged or bitter, it was just…hollow. It was tired and defeated, as if she’d spent hours combing through her feelings to the point of surrendered exhaustion. She held no spite or resentment, just a tone of flatlined renunciation and honest common sense.

“I know.” 

The answer was curt and calm and for some reason, it packed a harder punch than anything he could’ve imagined. He would have rathered she tell him off and shout in his face and even slam things; at least then he would know she was still sorting through the ordeal and trying to come up with a resolution. 

But this was way more difficult to stomach. If she had no screaming or crying left in her, it meant she had already come to her senses on the matter. It meant he had no wiggle room, no chance to change her mind, no way to win her back. It was cold and condemning; it felt like a death sentence. 

Harry had cleared his throat softly, mind treading through his jumbled thoughts to try and sew together a worthy sentence, the pad of his forefinger tracing down the visible threads of Y/N’s worn jeans. 

“I didn’t mean any of it.” 

Though it’s the truth, it sounds feeble and pathetic. His words had then started tumbling out of his mouth with no rhyme or rhythm but simply in an attempt to communicate his rawest emotions. 

“That’s not an excuse or anything, but I just want to make sure that you know. And if I knew all of this was going to happen, I would’ve never brought it up in the first place. You’re important to me— I hope that all the time we’ve spent together shows that— and to lose you over something like this…” Harry pauses, choking up at the sheer notion of having to let her go. He continues his speech slowly to avoid another mishap, though it quivers nonetheless. “To lose you over something that was so stupid on my part would tear me to shreds, Y/N. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. There’s nothing I can do now except apologize until my voice gives out and pray that you give me the chance to make it up to you. I know I don’t deserve it and I know that the damage I’ve done could be beyond repair, but I also know that I will spend every second trying to mend it if you allow me to. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you and I know we’re young and that it sounds dramatic and I’ve been told a billion times over that I love too deeply for my own good but I don’t care because I know it’s the truth. Without even the slightest bit of doubt.”

His words had echoed across the walls of the flat, the dim buttery light of the single lamp in the living room casting their seated shadows over the creme surfaces. The dark silhouettes of their bodies seemed to absorb his message, picking it right out of the air and engulfing it into the ominous shade. 

All that could be heard was Y/N’s faint breathing as she processed his confession and the occasional sniffle on his part. The silence stretched for exactly two minutes and fourteen seconds— Harry had counted. A frail distraction, but a distraction either way.

A deep inhale had cut off his mental stopwatch and he could tell Y/N had cried recently before arriving because the air had to force itself through her stuffy nose. His index finger had twitched anxiously against her knee. He found himself counting again, this time the target had been the thin lines of the rug beneath the reinforced glass of the coffee table. He hadn't known it then, but his urge to count whatever he could to pass the time had been the start of what would later develop into a coping mechanism.

“I don’t know what to say.” 

It had only been a day but Harry had missed the sound of her voice more than he’d ever care to admit. She was talking to him rather than at him and it was enough to halt the fresh flood of tears that had been gathering across the glossy sheen of his irises. It was a victory, no matter how small. 

The sentence she spoke, however, was a whole new battle he had to face within itself. 

The words hurt, but luckily, they didn’t cut. There were dozens of harsher possibilities of what could’ve come out of her mouth and that makes him thankful for what he’d received. 

Harry had shifted in his seat, pulling the sleeve of his old Greenbay Packers sweatshirt over his free hand and tucking his arm across his stomach. His other hand remained on Y/N’s leg as non-intrusively as possible. “Is there anything you want to get out? Anything at all? I want to hear it no matter how bad you think it is. I deserve it as much as you deserve to express your feelings.” 

He hadn’t noticed when, but at some point he had absentmindedly tilted his head up to look at her. What brought it into clear attention was when she did the same and their eyes met. 

Y/N’s expression had crushed the oxygen from Harry’s lungs. 

He had hoped it would be different after everything he had said. That her eyes would hold some form of love within them, even if it was shrouded with sadness and disappointment. He had aimed to draw an ounce of forgiveness from her that he could cling onto and expand; he had aimed for redemption. 

Instead, her eyes held the same barren gaze that she had doted when she had walked in— vacant acceptance. 

Her own speech had confirmed his worst fears. 

“I don’t know if we have a future together. All I know is that right now, I feel like I could never forgive you for what you did. Watching you treat someone you barely knew the way you treat me made me feel like what we have isn’t real. Sex can be something both meaningless and meaningful and the lines between those two is finer than most people think. And even though I know in my heart that you’re telling the truth about not feeling anything towards her, I just can’t let it go. I can’t. I can’t get over the fact that you called her what you call me. That you kissed, touched, and held her the same way you do me. You made her feel the same way you make me feel. And the whole time, I was sitting there watching you do it, begging you not to and trying to communicate to you that you were crossing the line and you didn’t even notice.”

Y/N had lifted her hand from her lap, running the back of her wrist across her cheeks messily. Harry could see the tears sparkling on her lashes and he felt like his chest cavity was going to collapse in on itself. 

When she had spoken again, her voice was tight and packed with all of the pain she’d been holding onto since the incident happened. 

“You took all of the private little things that had built our relationship and shared them with someone else just to get your dick wet.” She releases a short spurt of a laugh, miserable and humorless, her palms smacking down against her thighs as she shrugs her shoulders for emphasis. “Intimacy is the most important factor of genuine love and you went and tossed it around like it was nothing. We’ll never be able to regain that; not in the way we had it before. I don’t know if I could ever trust you with it again. I shared myself with you because I love you— we opened up to each other in that way because we worked up to it. And now that you so carelessly let yourself have it with someone else, I’m too disappointed and hurt and fucking terrified to let you see me vulnerable like that again.”

Y/N had locked her eyes with Harry’s and his heart had shattered into a million shards. 

They had been swollen and bloodshot, tiny red veins webbing across the dull white, scraping at her irises and relentlessly chipping the color from them. There was no twinkle left whatsoever; the specks that normally decorated around her pupils had completely defused, disappearing into the murky sea of the muted shade behind them. 

“You broke my fucking heart, Harry, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to let you pick up the pieces.”

He had never heard her say his name like that, so dismal and void of emotion. He’d never felt more unworthy of love than at that moment and he knew there was nothing he could do to change her mind. He’d fucked up and now he had no choice but to marinate in it for the rest of his days. 

The process of separating was painfully fast. 

As it turns out, when she had left the morning after everything had happened, she had gone to visit Niall. 

Niall had been the mutual friend that had introduced Harry and Y/N in the first place so, naturally, Y/N’s first instinct had been to seek his counsel. She had kept the details of the breakup to herself but from how distraught she had seemed when Niall had opened the door to his flat, his hair sticking up at weird angles and his eyes crusted over with sleep, he had known it was not on good terms. She had stood there with dried trails of tears staining her cheeks as her entire body shook like a leaf and the second he had opened his arms caringly, she immediately collapsed into them, violent sobs wracking her body unapologetically. 

The Irish lad was as big-hearted and supportive as friends came and it was seen in how he offered her the spare room in his apartment that was normally occupied as a home gym. 

“I haven’t had a roomie since I was twenty but as long as y’don’t leave your dirty underwear in the living room, I think we’ll get along just swell.”

With Niall’s help, Y/N had finished moving out by the end of that same week. 

They did the brunt of the job while Harry was busy at work, though there was an awkward instance when he unexpectedly came home early on the last day of moving. 

Luckily enough, Niall had been the one retrieving the last couple of items so Y/N was saved from the ordeal. 

The two men had contemplated each other, Niall standing with the cardboard box tucked beneath his arm while Harry stood parallel to him stiffly, keys grasped tightly in his fist. Harry didn’t know how much Niall knew of what had happened, and he didn’t want to stick his foot in his mouth, so he had remained silent until the blue-eyed boy finally spoke up first. 

“Mate, I don’t know what happened between you two or why, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this torn up before.” 

Harry had sighed, partially in relief, but mostly in forlorn agreement at Niall’s comment. This was Y/N’s indirect way of telling him that the reason behind their breakup was meant to be kept a secret amongst their friend group. It was one last act of kindness towards him on her part because both of them knew that if word got out on what had happened, everyone would likely turn on Harry and shun him out. Y/N didn’t want that for him— despite everything, she found herself genuinely wishing him the best because she still loved him. A part of her always would, no matter how deeply she tried to bury it. 

The last thing she needed was to cling onto bitterness and make him suffer; it would be counterproductive considering her end goal was to move on. The whole situation would stay hidden and hopefully everything would eventually blow over. 

Avoiding each other proved trickier than expected in the beginning, but it gradually became routine amidst their everyday lives. 

Y/N avoided grocery shopping at Harry’s favorite market and he proceeded to change the coffee shop he went to every morning before work, well aware that it was the one she fancied the most due to the specific brand of creamer they carried. Y/N insisted on the second closest movie theatre whenever she went out with her friends for a film, knowing that Harry liked the one closest to Niall’s apartment because it was smaller, more homey, and did free refills on popcorn and drinks. Harry started frequenting the gas station near the twenty-four hour gym instead of the one near Y/N’s place of work and started doing his early morning jogs at the park on the opposite side of town, which wasn’t too bad considering it was only about a ten minute drive. Y/N stopped going to art museums all together— they were mainly Harry’s thing, either way. 

When it came down to their friends, they did the best they could. Whenever there would be a plan to go out for lunch, dinner, drinking, or any other event, they made sure to invite one and not the other, alternating turns. It kept the situation fair, though birthday parties were much more complicated. Staying on opposite ends of the club or flat would have to do. 

No one ever questioned the breakup too thoroughly, thankfully. All Y/N told them was that it ended really badly and that what was best was that they stayed clear of each other. Harry stuck to whatever he learned Y/N had said, brushing off the occasional curiosity thrown his way with a tired, “I’d rather not talk about it, yeah?” 

They were grateful to all of their friends for not pushing for details too much and respecting their privacy. Family members were harder to shake off, but both managed to keep things under wraps with the right amount of sternness. 

///

Three weeks and four days had gone by, according to Harry’s calendar, and things were remaining seemingly civil. That is, until Harry had a bit too much to drink on the fifth day and ended up drunk calling Y/N as he sat on the floor of his kitchen, eating from what he was sure was an expired box of Cheerios while counting floor tiles and wondering why the fuck he even liked tequila in the first place. 

The phone had rung three times and then the line abruptly cut off, sending Harry right to voicemail. 

“Hey, this is Y/N! Sorry I couldn’t come to the phone right now, just leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible!”

His eyes had immediately begun to water as her voice crackled through the speaker of his phone. He hadn’t realized how long it had been since he’d heard it and he hates that he had almost forgotten its gentle trill. The bright chime of her words were so different than the last time he’d heard her speak— her tone was easy and good-natured rather than dismal and hurt and he missed when she would regard him that way. Now, it was directed at a random person on the other end of her phone line who she might not even know and for some reason, that made his stomach twist. 

The Cheerios had started to taste funny so he opened the cabinet across from his spot on the ground and chucked them in the bin. He had then leaned back against the wall of the kitchen island, head repeatedly thunking against the polished hardwood as he redialed her number and waited, tiny hiccups plucking at his vocal chords and shuddering his shoulders without consent.

This time, it had rang only once before cutting off, meaning that she knew it was him and that she was actively delicining.

But Harry’s stubborn and insistent— which admittedly are some of his worst traits— and the fact that he had been shit-faced had fueled these characteristics. He’d continued to call her another four times before the line was finally picked up. 

His voice had filled with enamored relief as he quickly sat up, a weak smile starting to spread his cracked lips. “Y/N, hi, I—”

“Harry, you gotta cut this shit out, man.” 

It wasn’t Y/N. The person speaking had a much deeper voice with a smooth, raspy undercurrent covered in a heavy Irish accent. Their tone held a stern yet concerned edge.

“This isn’t good for either of you. You’ve got to try and move on, H.” 

It was Niall and he was on Y/N’s phone and Harry could feel himself about to vomit. 

He had forced himself to speak, clutching his stomach with one hand as if it would keep the bile from rising. His words came out slurred and numb, tongue feeling heavy and unbelievably large in his mouth. “Where’s Y/N?”

“She’s asleep and you should be, too. It’s three in the morning.” 

Harry’s brows had cinched down angrily over his lashes. Somehow, in his muddled brain, he was able to form a coherent train of thought about the current situation. If Y/N was asleep, that meant her phone had probably been on a nightstand beside her bed or splayed across her duvet or even on the floor considering she had a habit of twisting and turning too much. If Niall had picked it up, it meant he had to be in close proximity to her. It meant he had been in her room, possibly in her bed...

Harry’s throat burned as acid rose from his stomach. 

“I wanna talk to—”

He was cut off by the alcohol he’d had earlier resurfacing and splattering across the off-white kitchen tiles he’d been counting. 

The spluttering noises filtered through the phone crystal clear, much to his friend’s disgust.

“Jesus, Harry, just get yourself together, will you?” There’s a pause on the other end of the line and then Niall’s voice had come through again, gentler and less annoyed. “Do you need me to come over and help?” 

“No.” Harry had blurted out with panic evident in his demeanor. He’d wiped at his soiled mouth with the sleeve of his black Nike jumper, staring hollowly as the mess before him traveled across the cracks of his floor. An all too familiar swelling had started to fill his tear ducts. “No, I’m fine. Goodnight.” 

Apparently, it had been the third time he’d drunk-called in the span of two weeks, though he didn’t remember the first two times. He did remember this third time though— the stench stuck to his sweatshirt for a while. 

///

The next month that followed that cursed Friday night had been significantly better for Harry. 

He went out with friends and actually had fun more times than not, as long as he didn’t let his mind wander to what Y/N could be doing since she wasn’t with the group. Slowly but surely, he began to mend. 

The movies had always been his and Y/N’s favorite date idea so the first couple of times he’d gone out to see a film after the breakup had been tough, but he’d powered through the rough patches. Their favored seats at the very back of the cinema had gradually just become exactly that— seats. He was eventually able to enter a theatre without even as much as a glance to the last row. When Harry would go out to eat, he relearned not to order in excess anymore since he wouldn’t be needing those extra fries or two extra beef tacos or those couple buffalo wings she used to pick at religiously. Going out for drinks was easier on his wallet now that he could drink both of the two-for-one Happy Hour shots, the only issue being that sometimes he’d forget and order the next round while he had a perfectly untouched whiskey shot right there. He had sworn off tequila— he could still feel the way it had seared his throat, somehow manifesting an aftertaste of honeyed cereal.

Niall usually went out with the rest of the gang, but not as much as he used to and that bothered Harry extremely— bothered him to the point where he’d get the overwhelming urge to tear his hair out if he allowed himself to amble in his head too much. He hated being the jealous type, especially when he was no longer entitled to it. Especially not when Niall was such a nice best friend, willingly present for him on the nights where things went downhill and he needed someone to pick him off the ground— literally— and tell him that he would be alright.

The days Niall missed out were spent with Y/N and it wasn’t a secret. Harry had heard about how much closer they’d gotten recently through conversations that would happen across the other side of the booth, when his friends thought he wasn’t paying attention or that he was too sloshed to be properly present. He wasn’t, though. He was hyper-aware of every anecdote and syllable exchanged and it would make his mouth go sour. 

One night, he had drummed up enough courage to ask Niall outright about Y/N. They’d been out bowling and the Irish brunette had been standing off to the side waiting his turn, sipping on a pint and cackling his ass off every time Adam rolled the ball into the sideline gutters. 

Harry had been standing next to him for a while, leaning back against the machine that redispensed the bowling balls, taking tiny gulps of his third white rum margarita. The liquor filled his tummy with a certain type of empty warmth that numbed his better judgement and before he could talk himself out of it, the words were escaping his lips in a low, sheepish tone. 

“How’s Y/N?”

Niall had paused mid-sip, his entire body going rigid for a second as he kept the rim of his large glass perched at his lips. He had then pulled back from his beer, licking the froth off his Cupid’s Bow and craning his neck to acknowledge the green-eyed boy directly. 

“She’s doin’ good. Treading through the bills and tryin’ t’fill the rest with thrills, like we all do.” 

Despite the light nature of his response, Niall’s accent had been heavier and Harry’s not sure if it was due to the alcohol or the tension-packed subject of conversation. Probably both. 

Harry had nodded his head slowly— casually— and taken an ice cube into his mouth, cracking it with his teeth in the way Y/N used to scold him for. He had stared intently at the condensation gathering around the tips of his warm fingers for a few heartbeats before looking back up at Niall with aching curiosity. 

“Is she happy?”

The Irish bloke had opened his mouth to answer, and then hesitated, thinking over what he had been about to say. That teeny fraction of time filled Harry with enough nerve-grating suspense to that he was sure he’d pop a blood vessel.

Niall had cleared his throat softly, sighing tiredly through his nose. “She’s better than she was right after the split.” 

Harry hates that Y/N’s doing better. He knows how petty and selfish it comes off, but he can’t help it. If she’s doing better without him, it means she might never need him again— it means he’s replaceable to her. He can hardly fathom that thought without the backs of his eyes prickling. 

Harry had swallowed thickly, nose stinging and jaw clenching. “Is she seeing anyone?” 

Niall tilted his cup against his mouth, savoring the tanginess of the beer, grateful for its help in making this talk way easier. He’d given Harry a sympathetic slink of his head. “I don’t think that’s the type of question you should be asking, Har. One day, you might not like the answer you get.”

Harry’s fingers had tightened around the stout cylindrical glass in his grasp, rings biting into his skin. His voice came out strained but unwavering. “Is she?”

His friend’s blue eyes had flitted across different points of his face, sussing out Harry’s attitude and whether he could be convinced to back down on this specific topic. 

When it was obvious he wouldn’t budge, Niall sighed heavily once again, this time through his lips. “She’s not, no.”

Harry can’t quite place a name to the flood of emotions that had crashed into him like a tidal wave. The closest he can relate the experience to is breaking the surface of an ocean of suffocating uninformed doubt, instead filling his lungs with illogical optimism and stunned relief. 

There was hope for them, even if the sliver was fine as a hair. 

Harry had found himself drawing closer to Niall, eyes doe-like and pleading, the neon lights of the bowling alley washing his face out with bright purples and drunken blues. “I wanna see her.”

“You can’t.” The objection had been quick and authoritative, causing Harry to blink as if he’d just been smacked between the eyes.

“Why?” It was a stupid question— he knew why. It wouldn’t be healthy for either of them.

“Because you’re only going to set yourself back. And even though you might not be thinking of the consequences it could have, I am, and I’m not going to let you hurt her or yourself more than you already have.”

And that’s when Harry realized that Niall knew. He’d heard the whole story.

The guilt-ridden young man had broken eye contact, looking down at his scuffed heeled boots. “You know.” 

“She told me a while back.” Niall’s confirmation had hung across Harry’s shoulders like a lead jacket. “You fucked up, mate. Bad.”

A weak, remorseful, “I know.” was all he could muster. 

“She knows you didn’t mean it, but I don’t know if you can come back from this, H.”

Harry repeated his previous phrase, but this time, it had been heavy with a form of undignified recognition. He was slowly coming to terms with the crushing possibility that he might never get her back. 

He’d downed the last of his drink, feeling it reluctantly settle into his stomach. He had then locked gazes with Niall once again, his own conflicted and needy, which in turn caused his friend’s to mold into one of deep worry and pity. 

“Will you just...Will you tell her that I love her so much. That I love her to the point where it’s pathetic. And that I’m so fucking sorry. That a day doesn’t go by when I don’t think of her and that I’d give fucking anything to earn her trust again...And that I found her Sherpa jumper under the bed and washed it in case she wants it back.” 

Niall had snorted lightly, shaking his head in amusement at Harry’s ability to be so unintentionally pure even under the most stressful circumstances. He’d tossed an arm across the jade-eyed boy’s loaded shoulders, pulling him into a hug that was very obviously needed. 

The reluctance had melted out of Harry in less than a breath, his arms wrapping around Niall’s torso, face pressing into the shorter man’s broad left shoulder. The tears he was holding back were evident in his quaking voice. “I miss her.”

Niall had remained silent for a while, not wanting to push any more boundaries. 

He had made due with running his palm across the expanse of Harry’s back in soothing circles, only speaking up when he felt his mate’s tears seeping into his knitted sweater. 

“You’re gonna be okay, yeah? You’re gonna get through this.” 

Niall wasn’t entirely sure if his words were the truth. All he knew was that he wanted to be there for his best friend, so he comforted him to the best of his ability and prayed that whatever happened in the couple’s future would bring them closure. 

Harry had gotten home that night feeling deflated and more regretful than ever. The emotional exhaustion had fused into his muscles and joints and he’d ended up collapsing on the couch, too depleted to take the walk down the corridor that led to his bedroom. 

His sleep was restless and worthless, as it tended to be of late, but it beat having to sulk consciously. The pain was less sharp and his sorrows were covered in a hazy fog that somehow made everything bearable. He slept well into the afternoon and awoke with a mean kink in his neck and a dull thumping in the back of his skull— karma, obviously, for his lack of self-care and shitty drinking habits. Nothing coffee couldn’t fix.

///

As it turns out, Niall had struggled some to pass on Harry’s message to the intended party. 

Y/N had been sitting on the couch when he’d gotten home from the bowling alley, snuggled cozily in a Friends blanket Niall had gotten last Christmas in a game of White Elephant. She had been so focused on an episode of Master Chef that she hadn’t even heard him unlock the door. 

Y/N had momentarily glanced away from her show when she saw Niall enter the living room through her peripheral vision, watching as he toed off his rusty brown Clarks boots, kicking them into the corner beside the television stand. “How was bowling?”

“It was good! Mitch beat me by two points but, frankly, I think he cheated while I went to refill my pint.”

Y/N had scoffed in amusement, taking a sip of the chamomile tea in her Mickey Mouse mug, shaking her head distractedly. “Can you even cheat in bowling?”

Niall had shrugged his navy blue peacoat of his shoulders, draping it over the backrest of the worn recliner that was perpendicular to the couch she was currently inhabiting. He’d arched his eyebrows challengingly. “Obviously there has to be a way ‘cause I never lose. And especially never to Mitch and his shitty hand-eye coordination.”

Y/N had set down her mug in the small hole created by her crossed legs, the warmth of the drink radiating through the ceramic cup and seeping through her cloud-patterned pajama pants, heating her inner thighs soothingly. Her expression had then matched up to his, brows raised tauntingly. “Or maybe you were just off your game.”

Niall had slumped into the old recliner, sighing heavily as it creaked and extended. The Irish bloke had snuggled deeper into the cushioning of the seat, absentmindedly wiggling his toes in their rainbow polka-dotted socks before giving his housemate a pointed look. “Maybe you should shut up and go back to watching random people make squash noodles.” 

“Actually, it’s eggplant ravioli.”

“Actually, that sounds like arse.” 

A round of bubbly laughter had belted out of Y/N and it had been contagious, the same type of giggling escaping from Niall’s lips. Then, comfortable silence had fallen over the two as they centered their attention back onto the cooking show. 

Niall hadn’t been sure how to approach the topic. There was no real proper segway into conversations about exes— he didn’t want to upset Y/N with the sudden intrusion on her healing process. But he had made a promise to Harry. 

Aside from the obvious negative factors, mentioning him would also give Niall insight into how she was currently feeling about the entire situation. He’d be able to accurately gauge what her emotions had resolved on the matter and therefore be able to give Harry a solid response on whether he had any chance left for reconciliation. He’d be able to confidently tell him whether hanging on was worth it or if letting go was the best choice. 

Though Niall and Y/N had been living together for almost two months, she hadn’t started opening up to him fully about the breakup until three weeks in. And even with the whole story laid out bare for him to examine, Y/N shared very little of her mending path with him until they were five weeks in. For a while, her version of “opening up” was simply telling him what had occurred and he’d had to fill in the rest of the mental and emotional blanks himself. 

It had not been hard to come to the conclusion that she had been feeling like utter shit right after it happened— insecurity was awfully present as well as the haunting weight of thinking she wasn’t enough. Though Harry had put those worries to rest the day they had separated, they still lingered in her subconscious, constantly poking and prodding and picking at the membrane of recovery she had developed around her heart.

Y/N had felt numb for days after she had ended things. Boiling anger had created a buffer for the pain that was dwelling just under the surface and it had powered her for about three weeks. Then, at four in the morning on a random Thursday, her real emotions had burst through the fine cracks that had been webbing themselves into that unstable wall of rage. 

She’d had a dream about him that was actually a memory. There wasn’t anything particularly special about the scene as it had been one of many alike— they had been cuddling on the couch. But for some reason, it cracked something inside her. 

It had been scarily vivid to the point where she could feel the ridges of Harry’s finger pads tenderly passing over the skin of her exposed arm as she had laid between his legs, her head nestled into his strong chest, ear drums thumping with the sound of his relaxed heartbeat. She could feel his breathing, pectoral muscles rising and falling with penetrating inhales that had fallen into rhythm with her own. There had been faint movement above her and a sudden warmth had erupted across her forehead, his lips flushing caringly between her brows. The heated glow had washed down her temples and nose like syrup, vignetting her mind with a feathery, sleepy haze. It dripped over her tingling cheeks and buzzing ears, running down her neck and infusing into her chest, calming her from the inside out. He had whispered something unintelligible against her skin, his deep voice warbled as if he was talking underwater. Though she couldn’t make out what he was saying, the mellow, pleasant tone of his voice was enough to lull her. She had never felt happier, more fulfilled, and more at peace than at that moment. 

Harry had always been the one factor that could drown out the static of her troubles with the simplest caress of his touch. He could make any problem sink away just by cupping her jaw and thumbing over her cheekbones. Could make the end of the world creak to a stop just by knitting his mouth to her’s. Could melt away any obstacle by brushing his palm over the dip of her spine. He had always been there, and at the time, it had felt like he always would be. Through that assured remedy of relief, she had been able to live her life one step at a time, bracing even the worst moments with a clear mind and strengthened energy, all because he stood behind her— with his warm hands and consoling aura— every inch of the way. 

Y/N didn’t have that anymore and though she pushed it down and claimed it didn’t phase her, she was falling apart inside. 

It was only a matter of time before it came rushing out all at once. 

She had jerked awake from the dream as if she’d been stabbed, face wet with tears, her pillowcase dampened to the point where she would have to replace it. The breakdown that followed hadn’t included any screaming or slamming or stomping; it had been quiet and concise, much like Harry’s on the day she had left. 

She’d laid on her side, wrapping her arms around herself and tucking her knees to her chest, drawing into her body as if it could keep all of her feelings from spilling out. Heavy tears had swelled her already bloodshot eyes, her entire face stinging as fresh sheens of water washed down the dried saltiness of the ones prior. Her nose had run so badly she’d had to resort to using an old t-shirt as a tissue. The sounds that had escaped her were low and broken— cracked, stuttery whimpers with no real words behind them. The noises were just another outlet for the aching to seep out; her eyes just weren’t enough. 

Her back had hunched over as she constricted into herself even further, burying her face into her sopping pillow, feeling hot tears soak into the saturated fabric. She could barely breathe that way and it helped calm her down some— no air meant no sobbing. No sobbing meant she was on the way to picking the pieces back up to put herself together again.

It took her awhile to come to her bearings. Her body had stopped shaking but the tears didn’t seem to want to go away. It irritated her that she couldn’t control this— she hated not being able to do anything other than just drown in it. 

Without meaning to, she had released a gut-wrenching growl of frustration that tapered off into another round of heart-breaking sobbing. Her stomach throbbed, the pain so deep it was almost palpable. 

Y/N had hoped the pillow would muffle it enough not to wake Niall, unaware that he was already up. He’d awoken on his own, making a trip to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. He’d been sipping at it slowly, mind still stuck in a meaningless dream, when the sudden noise had echoed down the hall that led to Y/N’s room. 

Niall rubbed at his tired eyes with the palms of his hands, irises grey with sleep. He had blinked a few times, downing the rest of his water and setting the glass down carefully onto the marble counter, trying to limit any sound interference as his ears strained to listen for any more crying. He had wanted to make sure he wasn’t imagining it in a half-unconscious stupor. 

But no, it was very much real. If he focused enough, he could just barely hear the soft sobbing coming from his friend’s bedroom. He had a good guess on what it was about.

He’d stood still for a moment, mulling over what he should do. His first instinct had been to go in and comfort her, but with more thought, he wondered if it would be better not to meddle in her grieving out of respect for her privacy. He knows that if he were crying over a bad breakup, he’d want to be left alone. But he also knows that shouldering a burden like the one she’d faced could put anyone in a really dark place; he wasn’t just going to stand around and let her crash and burn. 

Niall had wandered down the corridor attentively, footsteps light as to not startle Y/N. He’d turned to knob to the door with immense care, pushing it open with his shoulder and peeking in. 

The crying had stopped abruptly, which gave away that she knew he was there. He couldn’t see much in the dark room— the moonlight filtering in through the cracks in the curtains didn’t do much for the fact that he was lacking his glasses— but he could see the silhouette of Y/N’s body curled up under the duvet, trembling ever so slightly with the effort of keeping in her sobbing. 

Her housemate had cleared his throat to get rid of the gravel in his dormant voice, as well as to fully alert her of his presence. His words had still come out in a raspy croak, but at least they were understandable. “You alright in here?” 

Y/N had sniffled feverishly, desperate to put out a collected facade. She hated when people saw her so vulnerable without her anticipating it. 

“Y-Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for checking in.” 

Her voice had cracked near the end of her response, giving away that she wasn’t good at all. The air had been silent for a moment, then Niall’s muddled footsteps thudded against the thick carpet.

Y/N could feel him standing behind her, his body heat radiating off him like a furnace, the soft scent of his ocean-scented deodorant tickling her itching nose. “Are you sure?”

There had been no response other than the comforter tightening around her frame. Her hair was splayed across her face in a wild, matted mess, keeping him from being able to read her features. 

Niall had sighed heavily and then the bed had dipped with his weight, sheets shifting and springs squeaking as he settled into place beside her, swinging his legs up onto the mattress. 

More silence followed, Y/N refusing to budge. She hadn’t wanted to drag him into this considering he was still friends with Harry; she didn’t want to split him down the middle or force him to take care of her alongside her ex. She knew Niall too well, certain that he had been offering help to Harry, too. She’d heard him answer the array of drunken phone calls on her behalf so she wouldn’t have to deal with more trauma. She’d heard him leaving the house at unintelligible hours only to return smelling like Harry’s favorite vanilla cinnamon candle. She’d even found one of Harry’s t-shirts (which she had gotten him herself) in the laundry basket, which had probably been lent to Niall after an alcohol-related accident. 

Niall was too kind for his own good— too caring. Y/N had learned a lot about him in the time they had lived together and the one characteristic that stood out more than anything was his savior complex— his default setting to provide love and assurance to anyone that needed it, no matter the stress it put on himself. She didn’t want to take unfair advantage of that. 

Her friend’s voice had torn her out of her guilt trip, loaded with adamant concern. “Y/N, I’m not leaving this room until I know you’re genuinely better so stop being stubborn and let me help.” 

She’d jerked suddenly when she felt his large hand coast up her back. His touch was gentle and nurturing, squeezing her shoulder expectantly. It wasn’t hard for her to let go into him. 

Y/N had turned towards Niall, hand ducking out from beneath the duvet cocoon she’d swaddled herself in, moving her hair out of her splotchy face. Their eyes had locked and she’d immediately felt the remaining anguish flush out of her system. 

The look on his face was so kind and protective and it made her feel safer than she had in the last couple of weeks. Even in the limited lighting, she could see his eyes were glossy with the genuine desire to help her heal, inviting her to share her problems with him, silently promising that they could shoulder the weight of it together. She didn’t have to fight this on her own. 

Y/N had spent the rest of the night in Niall’s arms, crying into his chest and utterly drenching his Eagles t-shirt, though he didn’t complain once. He had kept his lips pressed to the top of her head, running his warm palm up and down her shuddering back and telling her that she shouldn’t bottle up her feelings— that it didn’t make her weak to show them, that openly sorting through them with someone else would make it less scary, and most importantly, that it was “okay not to be okay all the time.” 

For the next month or so, Y/N and Niall’s heart-to-hearts had been a real breakthrough for her. All of her undealt fear and self-doubt no longer badgered her anymore— it was almost all gone. She hadn’t felt this emotionally liberated since before the split and she could feel the shards of her heart welding themselves back together, ushering her into a more healthy, serene state of mind. She was on the road to her old self again and the relief it brought was otherworldly. 

It could be seen physically, too. The bags under her eyes had faded and her face carried a certain rejuvenated glow that it had lacked for weeks. Her smile and laughter were buoyant and loud again, not hindered by any inner conflict anymore whatsoever. When she went out with her friends, she didn’t find herself mentally checking out in the middle of conversations or movies or drinks like she had plenty of times before. She actively participated and engaged in events instead of just going through the motions and it felt so fucking good to get a taste of actual joy for the first time in so long. Things were looking up, and though she still had that hole in her chest that only Harry could fill, she was learning to deal with it in a beneficial and independent manner. It was okay not to be okay all the time. 

///

All of these instances had scattered across Niall’s eyes, whirling around in his skull as he sat back in the old recliner, trying to decide if he should pass on Harry’s bowling alley message onto Y/N. He knew she was doing way better, but he didn’t know if hearing from Harry would break her all over again. He didn’t want that, but he also didn’t want the sheer sound of his name to send her into a self-destructive spiral for the rest of her life— she had to learn to cope with him being mentioned regularly because it was bound to start happening again. People couldn’t walk on eggshells around both of them forever. 

And Niall also needed to know where she stood on her relationship to the British boy— whether she was willing to give it another shot or whether it was best to tell Harry to move on completely. They were adults, after all, so questions needed to be answered and ties needed to be either tightened or severed for good.

“Harry was there.” 

“I know, Niall. That’s the reason I wasn’t.” 

Her tone had taken him by surprise. It had been jokeful and amused, holding no obvious resentment he could detect. It’d been a good start to the Ex Talk, if Niall had ever seen one, as long as it didn’t turn into her using humor as a deflecting mechanism. 

“He asked about you.”

Y/N’s hands had tightened around her mug, crossed legs shifting her weight. She had broken away from the television screen, meeting Niall’s cautiously hesitant gaze. Her eyes had held an emotion that he couldn’t quite place— it was mostly blank, but it held a smidge of something he could only think to refer to as pained curiosity. 

When she’d spoken again, it had been soft and fragile. “What’d he say?” 

Niall had leaned forward in his seat, elbows propping onto his parted knees as his fingers sifted together, chin resting on his knuckles. His voice had been as cautious and hesitant as the look in his sky blue irises. “He said to tell you that he misses you and that he’s terribly sorry. That he’d do anything to earn your trust again, that a day doesn’t go by that he doesn’t think about you, and that he loves you so much ‘to the point where it’s pathetic.’ His exact words.” 

Y/N had been quiet for a while afterward, the TV droning on in the background with chefs running around kitchens, cursing about food burning and incorrect ingredients. Niall hadn’t pushed her on an answer; he’d simply sat back with his hands flat across his belly, allowing her all the time she needed to process the speech. 

When she finally spoke up again, her voice had been taut, strained by the heaviness of the message she’d received. “Anything else?”

Niall had intentionally left the lightest part of the conversation for the end, hoping it would provide her with some form of ease, as minimal as it would be. “Yeah, he said you left your Sherpa jumper at his place and was wondering if you wanted it back. If I were you, I’d say yes. Fleece sweaters are fuck-you-in-the-arse expensive.” 

His comment had the intended affect, his heart fluttering with relief as he watched Y/N’s face break into a huge grin, eyes crinkling as airy laughter bounced all around her. Some of the tension in her body remained, but most of it had dissipated out. A fraction is better than none. 

Y/N had managed to talk through her giggles. “Yeah, I think I would like my sweater back, actually.” 

“Great!” Niall had clapped his hands together once, head wobbling in a jerky shake for silly emphasis. He’d pushed his palms against the armrests of the recliner, catapulting himself onto his feet and pointing at Y/N playfully. “I’ll get that sorted for you, then. Now, if you need me, I’m gonna be in my room, passed out on my bed for the next twelve hours, neck-deep in a beer coma. Feel free to check if I’m breathing every now and then, yeah? Got a dentist appointment next week that I’d hate to be dead for.” 

Y/N had sat on Harry’s words for the next week or so. They hadn’t spurred her into a meltdown (as she’s sure Niall had worried they would), but they did loiter in the back of her mind, keeping her awake past appropriate hours by playing her heart strings like a violin. 

There was one part of the message specifically that took up a chunk of her sleep more than the others, scattering inside her head and running along the crevices of her brain, the meaning behind it stirring the pit of her stomach into a hollowed frenzy: I love you so much to the point where it’s pathetic.

That one measly sentence carried so much baggage to unpack.

Harry’s choice of words were transparent on how he was dealing in the aftermath of the split. 

Y/N knew how much of a hopeless romantic he was— it had been obvious in the way he had put her on a pedestal for the entirety of their relationship, constantly showering her with all different types of affection to let her know how much he cherished her. It ranged from the simplest gestures— like keeping her favorite chocolates stocked inside the pantry at all times— to extravagant actions— like randomly buying her an expensive necklace she’d stared at for a bit too long at the mall. He was always aware of her, always going out of his way to show her how much he loved her, and she had never felt more appreciated than when she was with him. 

When it came to expressing that love verbally, Harry only ever connected it to words that carried positive connotations. Words like, “truly,” “madly,” “deeply,” “immensely,” “entirely,” and “wholeheartedly.” He wanted her to know that when he thought of her, any negativity was immediately expelled from his mind; she could always make him happy, no matter what. 

This being taken into consideration, one can understand why Y/N had been utterly baffled when Niall had told her that he’d referred to his love for her as “pathetic.” It gave her insight into just how hard he was taking the breakup— hard enough to the point where he was so desperate to get her back that he felt pathetic. This told her that he loved her so much he was willing to admit that it was sad and pitiful, especially since he was a grown man, and especially because they’d been split for just over two months. That span of time is long enough for a person to at least start moving on; long enough for someone to sever themselves from that stage of hopelessly clinging to what once was and to look forward to what the future could bring. 

But instead, Harry had allowed himself to regress back into a lapse of needy pining, pleading with Niall— and in public, no less— to tell her that he missed her so much it was embarrassing; that he cared for her to the extent that it was humiliating; that he loved her to the point where it was miserable. He wanted her to know that what he had done had been tearing at him nonstop since it happened, that it would likely haunt him for years to come, and that he would never forgive himself for it. 

All of these confessions weren’t any different than what he had told her the day they had broken up— they were the same bullets he’d hit when he was sitting before her, teary-eyed and distressed, begging her to give him another chance. However, for a reason unbeknownst to her, they penetrated deeper this time, slamming her square in the chest like someone had punched through her ribs, squeezing her heart with their fist.

Maybe it was the fact that she had finally let go of the splintering anger she’d been clutching onto from that day, which had likely blinded her from absorbing the rawness behind Harry’s apology. Maybe it was that she’d had weeks to work through all of her jumbled emotions, finally untangling herself from the bitterness that had been clouding her mind for what felt like ages. Maybe it was just the simple notion that she fucking missed him— missed him more than her pride would ever let her admit. 

Missed the way his nose would scrunch up in distaste when he didn’t agree with something, the way the edges of his eyes would wrinkle when he smiled, missed his boyish giggling and how it would go up in pitch when he laughed too hard. She missed the way his dimples would carve into his cheeks when he smirked, the way the little mole under the left corner of his lips would jolt with the slightest motion of his mouth, and the way his large, warm hands would feel as he would knot their fingers together, his thumb caressing over the tops of her knuckles. 

Y/N missed the way her head would sink into his chest when she would hug him, his arms cradling her against his body while he played with the ends of her hair. She missed the small group of freckles at the base of his neck— missed tracing them with her lips while he chewed on the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting into spontaneous giggles at the feathery sensation. She missed the way he smelled, like mandarin shampoo and musky, spiced deodorant and his ocean salt cologne and that stupid fucking candle.

Y/N had remained on the fence for a few days about what to do, mentally jotting down the pros and cons of reaching out to Harry to make amends. The defining moment had been the day she’d gotten her sweater back. 

///

Niall had gone out with Harry to see a movie, returning home with the Sherpa jumper hung across one of his forearms, tucked into his elbow. He’d held it out for her between his thumbs and index fingers, flapping it back and forth triumphantly, eyebrows arched with dramatic glee as a huge goofy grin buckled his cheeks. “Look at what we have here, then!” 

He’d tossed it towards her on his way to the kitchen, belting out a cocky, “You’re welcome!” over his shoulder before disappearing behind the archway. 

The minute Y/N had caught the hoodie in her arms, the scent hit her like a bus. It invaded her nostrils without permission, sending a sharp ache through her chest. 

It was perfectly faint since Harry’s smell never tended to be overpowering— he had a very light hand when it came to cologne, well aware that too much could be agitating. That being said, the brand he used was potent even when dispensed in small amounts, so it’s salty sea aroma usually lasted through a couple of washes. He had probably nonchalantly chucked the jumper into the laundry with his clothes, which had resulted in the smell being strung through every single thread of the fabric. 

Beneath the initial layer of his cologne laid the softer scent of the vanilla cinnamon candle that she knew too well. It was tender and homey, just the right ratio of sugar and spice, its cozy undercurrent enveloping her in familiarity. 

It launched her into a round of fleeting flashbacks. 

The fractions in time consisted of a winter day spent snuggled on the sofa under thick blankets, half-empty mugs of hot cocoa discarded on the coffee table and a Netflix show drawling on aimlessly in the background. Not a single soul had paid attention to the screen; Y/N was too busy straddling Harry’s lap, planting wet, sloppy kisses down his throat as he dangled his head over the side of the armrest, hands gripping her hips needily as she rocked against the bulge in his sweatpants, a dreamy, pleasure-drunken smile adorning his swollen lips. Low hisses and weak whimpers had resonated from deep in his chest, rolling off his tongue as his mouth had absentmindedly fallen open at the warmth growing between her thighs. Her fingers had twisted into the loose curls along the back of his skull while she’d gasped his name all breathy and whiney along the underside of his jaw, working herself against him at a desperate pace, his palms trailing underneath her pajama bottoms to grope at her ass. 

Harry’s voice had been distant and echoey in the memory, but it made her cheeks sizzle nonetheless. “God, I love you so fucking much. Could spend the rest of my life between your thighs...Could spend the rest of it anywhere as long as it’s with you.”

Another flashback had shuffled forward like a deck of cards. This one was of a foggy, rainy evening spent napping soundly in their bed, limbs tangled messily with their bodies half-naked, her heated lips pressed to the lulled pulse that throbbed beneath Harry’s flushed neck. His hand had been petting over her mussed up hair, mouth pressed lovingly to the ridges between her brows, smoothing them out in order to defuse whatever was troubling her in her dreams. 

She’d awoken, her eyelids heavy with the remnants of sleep, her mind partially conscious as she had taken in a long inhale, blowing it out through her nose. Harry had run the pad of his thumb over her lashes gently, helping her get rid of the blurriness that had taken her under. She had blinked up at him drowsily, a watery smile spreading her buzzing lips. Harry hadn’t said a single word and he didn’t have to— he’d just stared down at her over the tops of his lightly colored cheeks, the right edge of his mouth flicking upwards in endearment, his bright jade irises glossy with fondness. He didn’t have to say a single word because his expression silently told her everything she needed to know. 

Y/N had snapped out of the memories in the blink of an eye, a sudden tickling sensation bristling down her cheeks. She’d reached up to touch her face in confusion, the tips of her fingers coming back wet, the water glinting cruelly under the dim lighting of the living room. Her brows had furrowed in objection, both at her tears and at being so abruptly yanked out of moments in her life when she had been the happiest. Her body reacted out of instinct, desperately searching for a trace of him to clasp onto, her hands fumbling to bring the flouncy material of the sweater to her nose. 

She’d taken a saturated breath in, the pleasant odor hugging her trembling frame and kissing her heart. The tears had then started flowing freely across her waterline and down the bridge of her nose. They had seeped into the fleece hoodie and she’d immediately jerked back from it, not wanting the treasured item to suffer the same fate as most of her pillowcases. She didn’t want to do anything that would make her have to wash it— she refused to let the comforting aroma leave her. 

Y/N spent the next three days in that jumper, only taking it off to shower. She wore it religiously, taking it to work, to the superstore when she went grocery shopping with Niall, to lunch with a friend, to a doctor's appointment she barely paid attention to, and even to bed. In the span of seventy-two hours, she had developed an addiction to the scent that was woven into the fluffy article of clothing, needing to have it around her at all times in order to function properly. 

It was sad, really. It was just a smell and she knew it would eventually fade away, but she just couldn’t help herself from wanting to be wrapped in it every second of the day. It reminded her of a time in her life when everything seemed flawless— where there wasn’t a gaping hole in the center of her chest that could only be filled by the one person who had accidentally hurt her beyond compare. 

Y/N couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the flood of memories that the stupid hoodie had fished out from the corner of her subconscious, where she had shoved them with the intent of never looking back. They loitered her dreams, broadcasting over the inside of her eyelids for hours on end, dissolving away when her alarm blared beside her ear, leaving her with a hollow feeling toiling at the pit of her stomach. She didn’t know how long she could deal with it, but her sanity was starting to wear thin, cautioning her that she had to do something or else she’d go absolutely mad. 

On the night of the fourth day, Y/N finally cracked. 

///

Two months and thirteen days. 

That’s how long Harry and Y/N have been broken up. 

It is currently 11:43 PM, meaning that in a meer seventeen minutes, it would be two months and fourteen days since the split. 

Harry is laying in bed, as far away from his digital clock as possible, watching a random Christmas movie that Netflix had recommended, one hand buried in a bowl of kettle corn that he’d already refilled twice as the other holds his phone an acceptable distance above his face. 

The movie is cliche, if he’s being honest; something about Santa Claus dying and passing on the torch to his dead-beat son that didn’t want it, so it ended up going to his overly-perky younger sister instead. The twist was supposed to be that a woman had never been Santa Claus, but he could see that ending coming from a mile away, what with her natural ability to get along with kids and the fact that she dressed like a literal Elf on the Shelf. It’s heart-warming in the way that all Christmas films are and it had the witty humor one would expect it to, alongside a cute furry animal sidekick that people couldn’t help falling in love with. 

But it just didn’t really impress him. The message is sweet, the execution could’ve been better. 

Yet, he only deemed it fair that he finish the movie. He’s already three-fourths of the way done and though the intended surprise was obvious, he might as well see it through. 

In the middle of the climax scene where the young woman was putting on the Santa suit for the first time, his phone dings with a chime he hadn’t heard in too long— two months, thirteen days, twenty-three hours, and forty-four minutes, to be exact. 

Harry had been so startled he’d dropped his phone on his face.

“Ow! Fucking hell!” 

He sits up in one quick, stiff motion, the hand knuckle-deep in the popcorn bowl flying up and knocking the dish upside down, the sticky kernels rolling across his disheveled duvet. The sleek black device falls into his lap, nose pulsing in pain as it had taken most of the heat, his caramel-coated hand rubbing messily along his flannel pajama pants to try and get rid of the stickiness. He then pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger to stifle some of the stinging, bumbling to get his smartphone into the palm of his clean hand. 

The screen lights up with a text message and Harry blinks a few times to make sure he’s not imagining it in some type of pain-induced hallucination. 

But no, the message is very much real and it’s authenticity sends him into a dull stupor for a minute. He comes back to when the phone vibrates with another ring, alerting him for the second and last time that the person he wanted to talk to the most had actually reached out to him; it was in his best interest not to keep her waiting.

Y/N: Hey, are you free to talk tomorrow?

[eleanor-devil]

Boruto: Sacrifices [Remade] | Chap.6 - Storm Clouds

Written by: Eleanor-Devil & @mirage-05​​

Prologue | Chap.1 | Chap.2 | Chap.3 | Chap.4 | Chap.5 | Chap.6 - You’re here

Naruto's eyes widened in shock at the boy's words. "What...? Wait, Mitsuki, you don't have to leave..." "I... do. I don't want to cause any more troubles..." "Troubles?" the older cut in, unbelievable. "You haven't caused any troubles!" The Hokage stood up and walked towards the boy, putting his hands on his shoulders. "You are not at fault, I am. I should have found a way to avoid what you've been going through..." "Please, Lord Seventh... I know you're doing so much already. And... this is not about how people treat me, really." Mitsuki remained silent for a minute. "Then please, tell me what's troubling you." Naruto immediately answered, because he had no intentions of giving up on this boy. "But please don't leave, it won't do any good to those who care about you." "That's my point." the boy stated, his gaze on the floor. "I let Boruto and Sarada get involved in this... Boruto even got hurt for me... I... I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of me. Either physically, or..." he slowly raised his hand to tap two fingers against his chest. "Here." "Mitsuki..." the Hokage sighed, how was he supposed to convince this boy to not leave? "You are part of this village, no matter what your connections are, and you deserve to be protected too." For some reason, the Hokage's words lifted that last bit of weight from his heart, that one thing that made him doubt his action, and the boy actually gave a small smile. "You know," he mused, meeting the blue eyes, "that's what I always liked about your speeches. That the whole village is your family... It has been like that for me, too. I never thought less, and slowly, in the year I spent in Konoha, the people became my family too."

The Hokage smiled slightly, had he convinced Mitsuki to not leave Konoha at all? That made him sigh of relief. "And... that's exactly why I have to go." Mitsuki said and took a step back, freeing himself from the Hokage's grasp. "My presence... nowadays seem to cause nothing but restlessness to my family. A restlessness that is possibly on its way to affect you, too." His smile vanished as soon as it appeared, and Naruto felt himself frowning slightly. "I believe that's my concern, rather than yours." At these words, the blue haired boy couldn't help but give a soft smile while he tilted his head to a side. "But Lord Seventh... I consider you family, too." Naruto didn't know what to say to that as the child's words touched his heart. "Mitsuki..." Just then, there was a knock on the door. Naruto found himself somehow glad to have this interruption. “Come in.” And in walked his advisor, with a - God help him - cat carrier under his arm. “Well… I’m sorry Mitsuki. He just doesn’t seem like he wants to stay away from you.” There was a soft, knowing tone in his voice that told Naruto he had been listening. The boy sighed yet again, honestly, was he expecting anything else? “Thank you.” he said, taking the carrier from the man’s hands. Just when Shikamaru was about to leave though, Mitsuki’s voice stopped him. “Umm, Shikamaru-san?” The man turned back to look at him. “Yes?” Mitsuki took a folded paper out of his sleeve and held it out to the man. “Can you please give this to Shikadai?” Shikamaru was visibly hesitant to take the piece of paper, but after exchanging glances with Naruto, he took it with a sigh. “You know as well as I do that Shikadai prefers a direct approach.” “I do.” The boy’s smile was soft but only a little bitter. “Please… tell him I’m sorry… And to Boruto and Sarada too… But that’s for the best. And maybe… as we pursue our individual dreams… we can meet again one day.” Mikazuki meowed as if he had something to say too. “Lord Seventh, it might be too much to ask but… I can’t take Mikazuki with me back to the hideout… And I only trust Boruto and Hima-chan to take care of him…” Naruto sighed yet again, this was turning out to be one of the hardest nights for him ever since he became Hokage… “I’m sure we can arrange that. But… even when I can’t force you to stay, please know that it’s not my wish to let the matter go like this. Boruto… he’s not gonna like this, he might want to come after you.” “I know he would.” the boy said, his eyes cast downward. “But if I want to follow my dream… this is the only way. Please make sure my friends see that too.” He looked back up at the Hokage, his soft expression now supported with a determined one. “Please let me protect my family.” Taking off his forehead protector, he left it on the desk. This time, it was Shikamaru’s turn to sigh. “Well… I guess then all we can do is to wish you good luck with whatever your dream is… I hope you can achieve it.” “Thank you…” And with that, the boy started walking to the door. “Mitsuki…” Naruto once again called after him, his tone sad. “No matter what… don’t forget that you will always be welcomed back.” A small, half-smile made its way to the boy’s lips. “Thank you Lord Seventh… for everything you did.” Then, just like that, he was gone… Naruto sighed and closed his eyes as he heard the door click close. … Mitsuki was trying his best to keep his thoughts at bay as he made his way out of the building, then turned and looked back at it once more. 'That's the only way...' a small voice in his head repeated. He didn't know how to counter that. He sighed and made his way to the tree under which he had left his belongings. ... Naruto had his face in his palm, deep in thought. He had failed... He had failed in his dream to make a better leader, to make a much better world in which only peace and love reigned... What kind of a leader was he...? He looked at the portraits of the previous Hokage one by one, his eyes lingering the longest on his father. He had always striven to be the best out of the best... But now he couldn’t help but wonder if any of the previous six had fallen as far away from their dreams as he had. "Don't be too hard on yourself. Sometimes, there is just no way of stopping these…” Shikamaru said, sighing. “People were just used to the peace so much... they react violently when there is a threat." "But putting the blame on a child?" the blond asked sadly. "To the point of making him leave?" "Well, at least we can do something about that." They hadn’t heard him entering, but Naruto could hardly begrudge Kakashi for not knocking now - he probably didn’t even hear it. "I have sent Konohamaru to investigate those harassments..." he said wearily, it seemed so long ago. "I have something better. A first-eye-witness account on who has been troubling the child." Both men were quick to react to that. "How? Tell us everything!" Shikamaru said. "When he was on his way here... he was attacked. I was nearby..." "Damn it..." the blond growled through gritted teeth. This was not going to go unpunished if that was the last thing he did. "Who?" "A pretty crowded group, actually. About fifteen kids, ranging between ten to sixteen years of age." "Do you know any of them?" "Most of the older children, yes. Naruto, they were from almost all of the clans. The ring leader was from Sarutobi, of course... There were also from the Yamanaka, the Akimichi... There was even a little Hyuga kid." That was about the farthest he was going to listen. "We are going to call for a meeting right now. Maybe it's not too late to change that child's mind..." Although, with an uneasy pang, he realized once again that he didn't really believe in Mitsuki's words about leaving tomorrow. "I'll talk to Boruto and Sarada about this first, though. They need to know." "In an hour?" "Yeah, that will do. And Shikamaru… can you please contact Boruto and Sarada and tell them to come here?” “Roger that.” As they walked out, Naruto took out his cell phone and dialed a number. When it was answered, he didn’t wait for the other side to speak. “Konohamaru… I need you to come to my office now. Yeah, it’s urgent.” … Mitsuki's pale golden eyes were following the guards at the border closely. Any time now... He didn't want anyone to learn that he was indeed leaving that very night instead of the morning, hence why he was trying to sneak out at the time of the shift change. Thankfully he had good ears, so he knew exactly when the shifts changed - and how the border doesn't have much surveillance during that. As he expected, at exactly 10.57 pm, one of the six guards there yawned, looked at his comrades and called the duty off. He couldn't take a lot of time. It was true that the procedures took a little time, but... He had to act quickly. When he made sure no one was glancing back, he jumped on the nearest tree to the gate and quickly sneaked out without a sound. It wasn't until he got a little away that he stopped. He pulled a traveling cloak out of the backpack, silently pulled it over himself. For one last time, he looked at the entrance of the village, once a welcoming and loving place, and now... He gulped, trying to remember the place only with the good memories, trying to block out the last few days... to not remember Konoha as the dark, cold, intimidating place it suddenly became... "Goodbye, Konoha..." he all but whispered, pulling his hoodie up. ... And that was how, about fifteen minutes later, team Konohamaru had gathered in front of Naruto - minus Mitsuki, of course. The kids especially looked anxious, it wasn’t every day that the Hokage called them in at such a late hour. “Dad, what is it? Is everything alright?” Boruto asked before he even stepped in. Naruto sighed, finally tearing his gaze away from the headband in front of him. “Come in and close the door behind you.” Konohamaru was indeed eyeing the headband, as Naruto knew that he would notice right away, a slight frown in his features. “Lord Seventh…” The Hokage sighed once again as he got up on his feet and walked to the front of his desk. “I need to talk to you about Mitsuki.” “What about him?” Sarada asked immediately, concern apparent in her onyx eyes. “Did those jerks do something to him?!” “No… he didn’t mention anything, anyway.” “He didn’t…” Boruto perked up as it dawned on him. “So he was here?!” Naruto just looked sadly at his son, not sure how to deliver the news. “So this means you can punish those guys finally! It means-” “Boruto…” Konohamaru cut in, but his eyes were fixed on the Hokage. “He… Mitsuki left… didn’t he?” Sarada had begun to catch up to what they were implying, there was an almost desperate expression on her face, wishing with all her heart that this wasn’t true. Boruto, on the other hand, was still lost. “Well- duh, he’s obviously not here…” “Boruto…” and it was then that Naruto was finally able to meet his son’s eyes, while he brought forth the headband he was holding. “He left the village… He came here to say goodbye.” There was a moment of complete silence following his declaration. Then wordlessly, almost soundlessly, the blond moved forward and took the headband gingerly in his hand, as if afraid that it would suddenly explode. "What..." he gulped as he had trouble recognizing his own voice. "What kind of joke is this, 'ttebasa...?" "He said he didn't want anyone else to get hurt because of him." said his dad sadly. "M... my cut...? Seriously...?" The blond felt his voice rising then. "That idiot left because of a damn cut?!" No one could say anything to that. Boruto gripped the headband tightly, so much so that his fingers hurt. Another minute passed in silence. Then he snapped back to the moment and stormed to the door. "Where are you going?!" he heard Sarada call from behind him. "To that idiot's house! I can't let it end like this!" … He had to take a break. There was a clean river flowing just out of Konoha, perfect for drinking water. It was also at the end of this river that he was going to meet his father. He set his things down, took a canteen out of his backpack and knelled... "Hurry up, will ya? Or we're not gonna make it to their curfew." "Who died and made you leader? Know your place." Mitsuki didn't know why, but he knew better than to question when his instincts told him to hide. He grabbed his belongings quickly and jumped back behind a rock, kneeling, as footsteps came closer. "Yeah, don't go act all bossy around us. Who called you for this mission? Who will get you paid in the end?" "Takeru..." he heard a gruff voice cut in. "And why did you call for us, vermin? As far as I remember, you have no guts to go up against the whole village - let alone the Hokage." Mitsuki tried not to gasp out loud, and actually had to press his hand over his mouth. Whoever was talking... they were... going to attack Konoha? "Ha!" a voice inside his head suddenly shouted, and the boy flinched a little. "Everyone gets what they deserve in the end!" What...? Was this... really... his own way of thinking...? "You were called an outsider, a freak... Show them what they are without you." Mitsuki's hands balled into fists. Why... was he thinking such things at a moment like this...? Konoha... had been a home for him for over a year. He was welcomed... "Were you, now? What about those past three days, then? What - you are gonna forgive them so easily?" The child closed his eyes for a second, that wasn't exactly wrong... If he was to be honest, he indeed felt resentful against those who kept picking up on him for no apparent reason - just because of who his father was... Why should he do anything? Did he owe them anything...? 'You are part of this village, and you deserve to be protected, too.' His eyes snapped back open as he heard the Hokage's strong and clear voice, as if he was standing there, right next to him. Those ninjas were after him, the one person who truly accepted him without any questions or hesitations, the person who truly believed in him... "The Hokage can perfectly save his own hide..." the voice spat out maliciously. "Don't bother!" But... was he the only person...? He thought about Boruto and Sarada, his teammates and best friends... no, his true second family, really... His other friends from the academy... They all acted together today against those who tried to attack him. The kids from the grade school... Aito... and so many other people... 'Mitsu-nii?' he heard a cheerful voice, brought by the wind itself and his hands tightened even more as Himawari's smiling face came into his point of view... How many innocent people would those ninjas hurt before they even got to Lord Seventh? Who knew what they were capable of? "That's my point, you moron! You don't know what they could do - do you even know how many there are?" Judging by their talk, at least three... "And if they're gonna aim for the Hokage, they wouldn't be ordinary ninjas! What do you think you - a simple genin - can do?" But the border was... pretty much at its weakest point right now… And it wasn’t like he was any simple genin... If he could only buy the guards some time... "Stop that! Do you have a death wish?" He wouldn't have to do much. Just a simple diversion... Surely, even if he didn't manage to lead them to the border himself - spoiling their surprise attack - someone would hear him and come to his help? They were so close... "I can see how this could go from bad to worse in at least a hundred ways. You still have time, turn your back and get away!" He heard the footsteps slowing down. "Now would be a good time to start," one of the nins said. "You were not raised to be a pushover... Show Konoha exactly how much they need you!" the voice whispered in his head. A determined expression crossed the boy's eyes... ... This... had to be a joke. A bad tasted, malevolent prank those idiotic villagers had pulled off. The house was empty. He and Sarada had looked from room to room even though the apartment was quite small - Boruto had even gone so far as to check the wardrobe and other tiny spaces his friend couldn't possibly fit in (logically speaking anyway), because he couldn't believe, he couldn't grasp. Mitsuki... was really, truly gone... "That idiot..." he whispered in a hollow tone, looking around at the dark house. "Boruto!" he heard the Uchiha call from the bedroom and hurried over. Sarada was holding a letter in her hands, shaking a little. The blond was quick to understand that she had read it over. When he came nearer, the girl handed the piece of paper without another word. "Dear Boruto and Sarada, Before I say anything else... Please forgive me for leaving you like this, without a word. But... I know you would try to stop me if I told you anything. I'm leaving the village to pursue my own goal in life. Don't get mad at anyone for what I chose. I think this suits me more in a way, to be a traveling medic who helps those in need wherever and whenever the need arises. I've thought a lot about it. I know someone who can provide me the necessary education. Please, don't come looking for me. Live your lives. Live your dreams... Sarada-chan, I believe you are going to become a very good Hokage when the time is right. Don’t take my goofs too much to your heart. Let your potential shine - you have more than enough. Boruto... you told her that you will be right beside her when she achieves her dream. Support and protect her for the both of us - not that she will need protection, not really. Thank you for everything. I hope that, no matter how far our choices drift us apart, we will see each other once again in the future, even if to just look back at our past, smiling. Best of luck, love you both... Mitsuki." Boruto just stared at the letter for a minute, his mind and thoughts coming to a standstill. He wasn't aware that Sarada had approached him. In the total silence that surrounded them, they read it once again, in the hope that they might have misread a word, might rephrase some of them, so suddenly, it would mean a whole another thing. And again. And again... once more until they memorized each word by heart. "I can't believe he did this..." the girl mumbled, her voice shaky as tears brimmed her ebony eyes. The blond slowly lowered the letter, his hand balling slowly into a fist... Then he banged it against the wall, making Sarada jump a little. "I'm going after him!" he said through gritted teeth. "That baka can't just leave like this!" "Boruto..." "I know what you're going to say! We should respect his wish, dad probably won't let us, either, and I know you always do things right, but I don't care!" "Boruto..." "He is our friend and he is like a brother to me, you don't have to come with me but I'm going!" "UZUMAKI BORUTO!" Sarada finally yelled. "What?!" the blond snapped right back. "Are you going to stay here and rant all night or are you coming with me?" … Naruto and Konohamaru were waiting outside. It had been quite a while since the two children went in, but they didn't want to interrupt. A slight rustling sound got their attention - a sound no big creature can make, but a small one. "What is that?" Boruto and Sarada came out of the house, adorning serious expressions. “Dad! We are going after Mitsuki, and-” “Hush!” Konohamaru warned them urgently, and only then did the children hear the rustle too - accompanied by a low hiss. The girl’s eyes widened slightly hearing that. “Is that-?” Her words were cut short as a small white snake appeared out of the bushes, coming to a stop right in front of the Hokage. “That’s Mitsuki’s snake!” Boruto exclaimed, although he wasn’t sure what to make out of this sudden development. He didn’t need to though, because fixing its gaze on his dad, the snake began to speak in his best friend’s voice. “Lord Seventh. Rogue ninjas. Attack. Eastern Border.” A chilled silence fell over the group for a nanosecond. Naruto and Konohamaru were naturally the first ones to snap out of it. “Should we mobilize troops?” the jounin was already ready for action, and although he was successful in hiding the brunt of his anxiety on the outside, there was a slight edge in his voice - they couldn’t be fast enough for his liking. “No - there’s no time. We will go.” Naruto was equally restless. Then he turned to the pre-teens, who were watching them with huge eyes. “Now, you two will stay here-” “No way!” Boruto cut in, terrified and incredulous at how his father should suggest that. “I won’t just sit around while my best friend is in danger!” “We don’t know the details of the situation, I can’t risk you too…” In response, Boruto just held out his arm and the snake obediently curled up on it, its golden eyes on the blond now. “It will lead us to Mitsuki, and it knows how to respond to me.” the young boy said, almost in a defiant tone, while the snake hissed quietly as if to back him up. “Lord Seventh please, you have to let us come…!” Sarada joined in, her tone almost desperate. Naruto didn’t like this option at all, but this argument wasn’t getting them anywhere and they were losing precious time. After a nod from him, Konohamaru turned to his students with a stern gaze. “You are to listen to my every command, and not act on your own, no matter what you see or hear. Am I clear?” The two friends just nodded solemnly, grasping very well the gravity of the situation. “Now follow us quickly.” … 'Which way could the child have gone?' 'He... Wouldn't try to fight a group of rogue nins... Right...?' 'No, no, no, he's a clever kid, he knows better... Damn don't lose focus, he must've sent the note just as a warning, of course he needed to record it in a hurry...' His thoughts jumbled together in a mess while running as fast as he can to the border, ahead of the others. He slowed down a little as he came to the border guards, surely someone would have seen Mitsuki leaving? He never thought he would see a familiar old face there, though. "Kiba?" he asked in surprise. The Inuzuka raised his head as soon as he heard the Hokage's voice not too far from him. "Lord Seventh," he said, of course he had to call him by the formal title, no matter how good friends they are. He spotted his son and his teammates. "What's wrong? Did something happen?" "We received a stress message... from Mitsuki. He said there was an attack..." Naruto explained quickly, and his slight panic made everyone look alert. "Did any of you see the child leaving? Where he could have gone?" He directed these questions to the border guards. "We need to find him quickly..." But the guards shook their heads. "No, Lord Hokage, we did not see anyone pass by." They were being honest, Naruto could see it, none of them were hiding anything. "Mitsuki?" Kiba murmured before looking back outside the gates. "It can't be..." "What is it, Kiba?" Naruto asked immediately. Kiba bit his lip, he could not say this loud, not in front of the kids... He approached the Hokage and Konohamaru. "Back in our mission... the dogs smelled blood, and so did we..." And just like that, Naruto felt his blood running cold as his fears returned to him in full force. "W... what do you mean? What blood, whose blood? Where was it coming from?" "I just rushed here to check myself - it's not too far from here, by the river near that clearing... But Naruto... It doesn't smell good..." "Dad?" Boruto suddenly appeared behind the hokage's elbow, worry and impatience apparent on his face. "Why aren't we leaving already?" Naruto turned around to face his son and tried to hide the fear on his face, he couldn't tell him simply what was going on in his mind… But before the Hokage could even open his mouth, there was a noise... Loud voices, it seemed, they couldn't really tell, not too far... The Hokage immediately turned towards the gates but there was no one there. Kiba shushed the guards' whispers as he too turned to face the forest ahead of Konoha. "You are not a weakling, are you? Bring me the boy's head." "You bastard! I'm not gonna do that to a child!" The phrases were enough to chill everyone to immobility. "What the hell...?" Konohamaru growled, his eyes going wide. 'God, no...' Naruto thought as he almost automatically sprung out of his shock, just out of the sheer need to save the kid, knowing that they were counting on seconds, maybe nano-seconds. Seeing his dad in action forced Boruto out of his shock, too, and the two children quickly sprung after the hokage. Naruto glanced back at Kiba for a second. "Kiba - go to the hospital, alert Sakura!" 'Dammit... Please make it in time...!' Konohamaru thought fervently, his teeth gritted.        

[infinite-hearts-333]

Broken pack, Broken wolf

Sander sides, Analogical (Eventually), Logan Angst, Werewolf AU

WARNING: really bad writing, angsty, lack of sleep and starvation, homophobia, swearing, I'll add to this-

Before 

Part 7- Can you fix what’s broken?

Logan spent around 5 hours fast asleep, draped across Virgil's form. He was like a giant puppy!!! Virgil was currently sitting cross legged in Logan's den thing, writing. Logan was curled into an impossible tight ball in Virgil's lap, and somehow fitted, despite being taller than the anxious side.

Virgil everyone in a while would look down to stare at Logan, and his glances switched from soft, happy and gentle, to curious, excited and pleased. He had summoned a new notebook, a dark purple covered one with stars and a wolf on the cover and began furiously scribbling down notes and sketching pictures. His non-dominant hand remained softly stroking Logan's perked left ear. Virgil didn't notice Logan awaking, sluggishly shifting and mumbling, eyes flickering under heavy eyelids. "V...virgil?" Rumbled Logan willing his eyes to open, his long tail to uncurl from around Virgil and stretch, flicking back and forth.

"Morning sleepy head. How... how do you feel?" Virgil asked softly, quickly placing the book down to focus on Logan. "Tired.... Somehow...." Huffed Logan, slightly pouting. Virgil chuckled, brushing Logan's midnight black hair out of his eyes. "Pat made soup for you." Virgil offered, helping the other into a sitting position who made no effort to reclaim their pride, slumping against virgil, head resting on virgil's shoulder and made a low loud groan. "Im not hungyyyyyy." whined Logan.

"Lo, you're skinny as a twig, you're eating something. There's no arguing." Virgil said firmly, scooping up the container of soup that Patton had dropped off not that long ago, popping the lid off, allowing steam to rise from the beverage. Logan whined, and tried to hide away from virgil, which didn't really work, given he hid using virgil. "Do i have to?" Whined Logan, trying to hide under Virgil's arm. "Yes, now, face me I'll help you, but if you be a big baby I might spill some on you. So sit up."

Logan made a low growling noise, and pulled himself off Virgil to turn around in his lap so he could still lean against Virgil. Virgil smiled lightly, and gently nuzzled the others' hair before dipping the spoon into the soup and lifting it up to Logan's lips. Logan quietly stared at it for a bit, tilting his head a little and Virgil realised he was sniffing it. Logan made a small huff after a while and opened his mouth, teeth clicking on the metal as he closed his mouth.

Virgil found himself staring at logan's lips as they moved, his cheeks unnoticeably becoming a scarlet red. He imagined what it would be like to rub his thumb over the bottom lip, to lightly press his own lips against them, to gently bite them and roll them between his teeth. Virgil silently groaned, donking his head against the back of Logan's neck. He was a hot mess. "Virgil?" Logan's voice was a lot clearer than before, more smooth and silky unlike the thick ruffness from just waking up. "Are you alright?"

"Yep. Peachy. Just, peachy." grumbled Virgil, refocusing on feeding logan. By half way Logan began to refuse. "I'm sorry... i just can't... or i might throw it up..." Virgil softly sighed. "You're not gonna get better unless you eat more. Just... a little bit more? For me?" Logan mumbled something that Virgil didn't pick up and continued to eat the soup. Virgil smiled, pausing to lightly pet logan's ears. "Thank you." Virgil didn't comment that Logan's tail began to furiously wag.

After a few more spoonfuls, Logan leaned back tucking his head back into the nook of Virgil's neck. "No more....." he mumbled. Virgil softly smiled. "Okay, you did such a good job." Logan was right there it would be so easy to just tilt his head up and kiss him. But he didn't. He couldn't. Cause.... That would be weird, and Logan probably wouldn't like it and he would hate him, oh god what if he already hates him, should he leave??? Would Logan prefer that-

"Virgil. You're pulling your panicked face again." Logan said softly. Virgil blinked, being slapped back into reality by Logan's soft velvet-like voice. (God bless Logan, Virgil could and would listen to the werewolve's voice all day and night if he could-) Virgil had come to realise that Logan had turned back around in virgil's lap, his arms draped over Virgil's shoulders and head resting on the start of his chest. Hickity heckity Logan was much closer than before, practically an inch away. Why, god why, in the name of gay jeusus must Virgil be tormented like this?!?!

Logan softly smiled, and nuzzled Virgil's chest, his eyes closing as he mumbled some soft gibberish under his breath. Virgil took that time to calm his poor gay heart, collect himself, and then carefully begin to neatly put away the soup for later, and then lightly combed a hand through logans tail. Which- virgil will add- was wagging happily, and it was so darn cute.

"Um... hey Lo?" Virgil asked softly. "Mhm?" hummed logan, pressing his face right into virgil neck and oh god why-

"Um-" Virgil had to cough to clear his throat so it wouldn’t jump an octave. "I was wondering if it was okay if i asked you about your species? Only if you're okay with it of course, I'm just really curious!" He quickly added.

Logan was quiet for a few minutes, pondering mostly likely, but virgil panicked internally, thinking he had done something wrong or offended him.

"Sure." he mumbled, going back to snuggling into virgil. Virgil swallowed thickly, grabbing onto the book he had been using to scribble done notes on werewolves in. "Ummmmm so, is your diet the same as a humans? Or are you more carnivores?"

Logan hummed, and virgil could feel his ears flicking as he thought about it. "A little more carnivores? Like I can eat raw meat no problem.... And some plants make werewolves sick."

Virgil began furiously scribbling the notes. "Okay... okay.... Are you fixated on one spot in a territory?"

Logan snorted, as if the idea was ridiculous. "No. P.... Packs move around between seasons, so food sources are never rare."

Virgil hummed, intrigued by the knowledge. "Um... touchy subject, sorry... but how do your packs work?"

Logan winced, taking a few seconds to swallow before answering. Virgil picked up on how his tail stopped moving and that Logan's grip tightened a tad. "Well.... My pack was a bit..." he chuckled, "Peculiar. Most of us left our birth pack, were kicked out, got separated or never had one to begin with."

"Oh yeesh.... Sorry lo." Virgil winced. Nice going idiot.

"It's fine, we had each other." Logan hummed. "Well, you start off in your birth pack, which is the pack your parents are in. By your 10 blue moon you must have decided to either stay in your birth pack or leave to make or join a new one."

"And you chose to leave?" Virgil asked scribbling down the words in a glittery purple pen.

"Mhm. my birth pack Alpha was homophobic, so i left. My parents supported me and helped me pack and get organised. They were the best." It was hard to see Logan's face, but Virgil could tell he was smiling.

"F*ck homophobic Alphas." Huffed Virgil. "F*ck homophobia in general." logan snorted.

"The first i was Empero. Her birth pack was genetically changed via artificial selection for the usage of humans." Logan continued, and virgil flipped to a new page, writing down this as well. He wanted to help logan any way possible, so knowledge about his pack may help.

"She was my Alpha, and I was the Beta.'' Virgil could practically hear the fond smile in Logan's voice. "Beta?" questioned Virgil. "Second in command. So when Empero cant take charge, the pack's responsibility falls to me. After Empero, we met Hazel. Hazel is a little ball of energy I swear to Artemis- she was separated from her birth pack by a flood. Then Dusk, they were kicked out because of how they spoke and thought. And then we found Jackson. Or really, Dusk found Jackson. He was kept in captivity for the sick desire of humans. They wounded him till he lost an arm, and if he ever did escape he wouldn't be accepted by normal packs. So Empero took him in."

"Whoa...." mumbled Virgil. "Your packs' been through a lot...."

Logan let out a bitter laugh that stung virgil even though it wasn't aimed at him. "Yer... they have. They were the best pack I could have ever asked for."

There was an awkward pause. "You know Lo... it's okay to miss them." virgil said softly, putting down his book to lightly rub circles on Logans back. Logan made a soft sad noise, and his grip tightened more, and in the corner of Virgil's eye he could see Logan's ears drop, laying flat on his head. "Is it?" he asked in the softest of voices.

"Of course. They were your family. Nothing's gonna change that. It's okay to miss them." virgil said softly, noticing how Logan slightly shivered when virgil pressed on his higher back.

"Is.... am I allowed to cry?" Logan's voice was even softer, more fragile. "Of course." Virgil said immediately, giving Logan's shoulder a little squeeze with his free hand. "Oh... okay then..." Logan's voice cracked at the end.

Virgil continued to rub circles on Logan's back, muttering small 'thats it' and 'it's okay' and 'i'm here' as Logan started to cry. He was silent, no sobbing or gasping for breath, just tears streaming down his face, soaking into virgil's shoulder. "I m-miss them..." Logan whimpered.

"I know Lo...... I know..."

??????

[lemonsandstrawberries]

Avengers in Pandemics

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony), og6 Avengers

summary: After months of living during quarantine, someone had to finally snap. But why, much to Steve’s horror, it had to be Tony?

length: 1 406 words

a/n: this fic is a part of my 8th Stony Anniversary and is based on a prompt I understood wrong, but then wanted to write it anyway ;D please keep in mind that this is just fanfiction - it is just a light hearted fic about a serious topic, so if you think it might upset you, feel free to not read. my only intention is to make you smile after reading it. that being said, hope you enjoy the fic, likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated and needed!

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Avengers in Pandemics

"Okay, I am done."

The words immediately sent off warning signals in Steve's brain. He turned around, and watched Tony, marching into the living room at Avenger's shared floor, face set with a determined and sullen look. Steve feared it would happen and someone would break. His bet was on Thor, though, who since the coronavirus pandemics had started was strictly forbidden to leave the compound, because Thor might claim he was a god, but for most, he was an alien, and coronavirus was new and unknown as it was already, there was no need to mix alien DNA into it. Too much of a risk and Thor was cooped up, banned from leaving the compound, and instead spent his days grimly staring into the window, some sparks of electricity crackling around him from time to time.

Ah, pandemics...

Steve remembered polio outbreaks back from his days. When he woke up to a polio-free world, it was great news, but the 21st century had its traps. Flat-Earthers, parents declining to vaccinate their children, and a new, unknown virus, spreading all over the world. The Avengers team was known as the Earth Mightiest Heroes, but pandemics wasn't a time for heroics. It was a time to put down their armors and give an example. The Avengers' social media has never been fuller. Photos of movie nights, game nights, group training, even domestics things like Thor washing the dishes, or Steve doing the laundry, as all cleaning services had to be canceled (Tony made sure that all providers were paid a year in advance, just to be sure and not deprive anyone of a job). The Avengers tried to stay in and be safe and give an example. Just... It wasn't their thing. A month had passed, stretching into more months, and the situation was not getting better and everyone was at the end of their wits, handling it better or worse. 

It had to happen and someone had to snap. Just, why, oh why, it had to be Tony? Steve thought about many scenarios. How to stop Bruce if he would Hulk out, how to contain Thor if he would rage out and throw tables, but Tony had this unstoppable energy Steve was never good at handling. Sure, he tried to throw some distractions in his husband's way, but Tony was so good at deflecting it was crazy. Once Iron Man set his mind on something, he had to achieve it. It was quite admirable, but in the current times, just frightening. 

Steve saw that Tony walked straight to Natasha and Clint, engrossed in a game of chess because once all the good games were either destroyed in frustration, or just were put aside, played one time too many, it was back to basic. To everyone's surprise of everyone, Clint could stay extremely focused, which shouldn't be a surprise as archery wasn't spitball. Something Clint was very good at too, but in a very bad way for everyone. 

"One for you," Tony said, handing Natasha a cuff bracelet, and then passing one to Clint. "One for you."

"What's that?" Natasha asked, looking at the piece of jewelry and Steve held his breath. 

"Since my labs are still running and trying to find a safe vaccine," Tony explained, and Steve felt a wave of love going through him - since pandemics started Tony redirected all his factories to produce surgical masks and hand sanitizers, and later on, even toilet paper, because that was an unexpected thing to run out during pandemics, but it had been happening all over the country, "I made something else," Tony said, putting a bracelet on top of Bruce's head, who remained still, deep in meditation. "It is still a prototype, but safe enough for a smaller group of people. Kind of protective gear, I took the design of the quantum suits and tweaked it a bit. It is not for combat one, just something to keep you and people around you safe. And I don't mean it in an 'I am gonna go out and happily jump in the field!' way!" Tony added in a harsher tone, just to make it clear that his work shouldn’t be treated recklessly. "We are going to visit hospitals and deliver face masks, go to retirement houses, anywhere people need support," Tony nudged Thor, who turned around from the window, still looking angry at the whole world, but minimally cheered up after he got his bracelet. "I matched all the suits to your personal styles, you will like yours, it is very stylish."

Steve listened to Tony's explanation, feeling that he got anxious for no good reason. He should trust Tony more and know that everything his husband did was for the greater good. 

"And this is yours," Tony walked to Steve, putting the bracelet out for Steve to take it. "So, what do you say? I know I kinda overstepped without consulting you first, but-"

"It is a great idea, Tony," Steve smiled, really meaning it, accepting the bracelet. The wonderful thing was that Tony, probably expecting some kind of protest from the captain of the team, looked surprised for a split of second, before smiling back. 

"Oh, I already scheduled an appointment at the veterans' house," Tony snapped his fingers, pointing at Steve. "All your peers were pretty excited that you will come to visit."

"Alright," Steve chuckled lightly, taking the playful jab. Visiting veterans' houses was a big part of his volunteering program before the pandemics and a great starting point for Avengers' new mission. 

“And some schools contacted us, they want you to do some pep talk for the kids -”

“Oh, yeah, I know,” Steve perked up, “I already handled that and scheduled some zoom calls,” he said, excitement hearable in his voice. Talking with kids and visiting schools was always great. It was much better than those PSA videos he had filmed once in bulk for schools, that his teammates liked to rub in his face. There is one thing that will give you an edge - a hot lunch. That line never got old, especially during mealtime.

Tony made a thoughtful face, his eyebrows drawing together until a small line appeared between them. “I didn't know that you know what zoom is,” he said in all seriousness, but the humorous spark in his tired eyes gave away that he was joking. Steve grinned, puffing his chest out proudly. Tony liked to think he had to teach Steve about every modern piece of technology, but after being introduced to basics, Steve navigated himself pretty well.

"So, everyone suit up! We are leaving in 30 minutes!" Tony hollered, and for the first time in many weeks, the team looked lively, eagerly listening to the order. "By the way," Tony turned back to Steve, lowering his voice, "I put some extra time into your suit's design," Tony murmured and it would be sweet if he didn't add, "the neckline goes down to here," he said putting his finger against Steve's chest and sliding it down almost to the belly button.

"W-what?" Steve stuttered out, his eyes widening. No, it had to be a joke. He imagined himself with an almost naked torso, his chest wrapped in some sheer material. It wasn't a protective suit, but something a male stripper would wear. "You said that suits are very stylish!"

"No, I said that Thor's suit is very stylish," Tony smiled impishly, meaning the impressive design he came up with for Thor that included some mean broad shoulder pads and lighting patterns, "yours is more of eye candy. Nurses and doctors deserve some fun too, right?" Tony winked and even dared to lightly smack Steve's butt. "Get a move on, baby!" he advised, turning around and joining the rest of his team, answering questions about the upcoming event.

Steve stayed still, looking from his bracelet and back to Tony over and over again. There was no way Tony would make him a suit that would leave him half-naked, right? It had to be a joke. Something Tony did to let go off the tension. Surely, it was a joke. 

Or...

Steve sighed, clasping the bracelet around his wrist. Today showed that he shouldn't doubt his husband and trust him. With a smile, Steve walked after Tony and wrapped an arm around his husband, joining in listening to Tony's instruction about using the suit and following Iron Man's orders. 

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at the end I just want so say thank you to people who put themselves out there and allow the rest of us function normally, especially health care workers and teachers! please, all stay safe!

[writeyouin]

Connor X Reader - Do You Dream? Chapter 9

Chapter 9 – Different

A/N – Just a short chapter, my loves. Hope you all enjoy it.

Warnings – Mild NSFW.

Rating – T

You weren’t sure what to do. When you were the Flayer’s prisoner, you had never really believed that you were going to escape. Now that you were free, everything felt wrong, like you were part of a timeline that was never meant to be. You had continued living with Hank and Connor, though you had moved back to the sofa after the first week; Hank told you that it was your home as much as theirs now and that you could stay as long as you wanted. All the same, it didn’t feel like you belonged there anymore.

Hank, Connor, and the few people that had come to visit you were treating you as if you were made of glass and would break at any mention of the Flayer or even regular crime. Your conversation often revolved around ‘safe topics,’ such as the weather, holidays, the weather, family, and if all else failed, the weather.

It was a relief when Gavin started texting you; he wouldn’t visit anywhere Connor might be but he at least spent time messaging you. You smiled as the next text arrived.

‘(Y/N), It’s been a week already. When the fuck you gonna stop being a little bitch and come back to work? It’s too fucking dull without your hot ass to stare at.’

Although the text was somewhat derogatory in nature, it had the desired effect of making you smile; at least one person was treating you the same as always. You sent a reply back.

‘Shut up and do my paperwork like a good boy.’

‘Oh, so now I’m your errand boy?’

‘What you mean, now? You’ve always been my errand boy, bitch.’

‘Asshole.’

That was the end of the small text chain for now. Perfect timing, you thought as Connor came back from work. Ever since your rescue, he had requested to be put on half days. Captain Fowler wasn’t happy to lose his best detective but he tried to accommodate the request; the best he could do was offer two half days a week with three full days at work.

“Hey Con, good day at work?” You asked.

“It was fine,” Connor answered stoically.

“Yeah? What cases are you on?”

“Oh, nothing too big. You know, a few muggings at best. Things are quiet at the moment.”

You wilted somewhat at his reply. It was clearly a lie to protect you, but you didn’t question it. Anxious to fill the lull in the conversation, Connor spoke up again, “So, you feel like another movie today?”

“Actually, I was about to take Sumo out.”

“Really?” Connor asked concernedly. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“Some fresh air will be good for me.”

“Then… Please may I join you?”

“Sure. C’mon, we can get Sumo good and muddy in the park. I want to push a few of Hank’s buttons today.”

With that, the two of you walked back outside with Sumo lumbering between you.

Unfortunately, Sumo did not come home muddy. In fact, he was as clean as a whistle since Detroit’s first frost had coated the park. You kept muttering about what a disappointment it was in the hopes that Connor might go back and forth with you in your old banter, but it was no use, he simply wasn’t going to bite. Instead he kept glancing around as if to make sure that nobody else was going to appear and kidnap you; you hadn’t seen him act this paranoid since before he deviated.

When the two of you got back to the house and let Sumo off his lead, you turned to Connor.

“Am I doing something wrong?”

Connor’s LED turned yellow indicating his shock and he reached up subconsciously to hide it, still trying to maintain the façade that everything was okay. “No, no of course not, what would give you that-”

“Everyone’s been treating me differently Connor and don’t try denying it. I know that I went through something horrible, and I know that I’m going to have to tell everyone what happened in the court case and that the Flayer might get off scot-free. I also know that the Captain wouldn’t waste your time on stupid cases like muggings. You don’t have to treat me like I’m going to break if I hear about a crime. We’re detectives, it’s a part of who we are. So please, at least let us go back to normal. I miss my best friend.”

Connor sighed, pacing the living room and dragging his hand down his face. His LED was swirling red now with only the occasional flicker of yellow breaking through. “I- I don’t know what to say to you anymore. I can’t- I can’t be your protector. I already failed as that. You suffered because of me.”

“I suffered because of the Kevin Jacob,” You said firmly.

“No. In the park I- You- It’s because- because-”

“Because what?”

“Because you don’t want me the way I want you!” Connor looked down to the floor, regretting the words as soon as they had left his mouth. He kept thinking back to the night at the park and how his mistake started the domino effect that drove you into the Flayer’s clutches; would you leave him again now that he had made the same mistake?

“You’re wrong,” You murmured.

Connor’s head snapped up. He didn’t believe his ears; surely you didn’t mean what he thought you meant.

“I- I had a lot of time to think when I was…” You took a deep breath, stuck in memories of the cold, dark and dank cellar which you had been imprisoned in. “When I was in that place. I just kept thinking about all those awful things I said to you because it wasn’t the right time and… I want,” You took a tentative step towards Connor who remained perfectly still, his artificial breath stuck in his throat. “I want-”

Although he knew it was risky, Connor couldn’t wait any longer. He closed the gap between the two of you, put both hands on either side of your face and kissed you, even more anxious than the first time he had done so. However, this time instead of pulling away, you wrapped your arms around his waist, drawing him closer.

Feeling a wetness against his lips, Connor pulled away. “You’re crying,” He remarked sadly.

“I never thought I’d get the chance to tell you.”

Connor wiped your tears away gently and kissed you again, hardly believing the turn of events that had led him there. He wanted this, he wanted you. As long as you wanted him then he would always be there to protect you; he would be your love, your equal, you puppet, and your slave, so long as it would make you happy.

From kissing, it seemed that neither you or Connor could stop. The pent-up feelings that had been brewing in the two of you had finally hit their climax. One minute, the two of you were just kissing, the next, your hands were in his hair and the two of you were stumbling over to the sofa.

Connor kneeled over you, the hand that wasn’t supporting him ran eagerly down your side causing you to shudder pleasantly. He seemed to sense whenever you needed a break to breath, but as soon as you had gotten single breaths of air his mouth was back on top of yours, hungry for more.

For once, Connor didn’t let himself overthink. Instead, he reached under your shirt, hoping to forget all of the bad moments in a few moments of pleasure.

Before he could go any further however, he felt your own hand pushing at his chest, lifting him off you.

“Wait,” You breathed.

Panicking mildly, Connor stood up, leaving you alone on the sofa.

“Shit was that- Did I- Are you okay?” He asked, unsure of whether you were regretting your decision to be with him or if he had been doing something wrong. He suddenly envied the androids that had been made for the Eden Club; if he had only researched properly before, maybe things would be okay now.  “I’m sorry (Y/N). If I hurt you, just tell me and-”

“No, it’s- It’s just weird doing this here. I mean… You don’t have a room and if Hank decides to pay one of his breaktime visits to check on me, I don’t want him to catch us…” You trailed off awkwardly, blushing at the thought.

“Oh,” Connor nodded, feeling awkward himself now that the rush of simulated adrenalin was wearing off.

“We can go back to my place… if you want to.”

Connor nodded unsurely, “Okay, yeah. Let’s go.”

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[reyxa]

can’t we all just get oolong? ch. 2

AO3

title: can’t we just get oolong? author: Reyxa rating: T summary: au where zuko and iroh settle in ba sing se post-banishment. when a pretty water bender start frequenting the jasmine dragon, zuko’s world turns upside down.

note: slightly shorter chapter this time around but the next one will be Beefy so stay tuned!!

Chapter 2: White Tea

Katara has spent the whole morning distractedly tugging on her braid, a little anxious at the notion of returning to the Jasmine Dragon.

It’s less that she thinks it’s dangerous and far more that she’s nervous to see Zuko. She hates more than anything the way he stirs her chest, the way his name is etched across her mind right now.

“Katara!” Aang jolts her from her reverie, calling her name as he emerges from their bathroom. “You wanna go looking for your mom’s necklace today?”

She searches desperately for an excuse. She just can’t take Aang with her to the teashop. She wouldn’t risk it, especially since it seems like those two firebenders had ties to Azula herself. It would be too dangerous touting the Avatar around like that.

And maybe a part of her really just wants to scope out the teashop again by herself.

“We can’t, Aang.” Sokka pipes up before Katara can even begin to form coherent sentences. “I really want to go talk to some more aristocrats and government officials around here. Knock on some doors.” he combs his hair into his wolf tail as he speaks, squinting into the mirror. “Remember that one guy across the street who warned us about the Dai Li after Joo Di left that first day searching for Appa? I’m sure there’s more people around here willing to talk to us and having the Avatar around won’t hurt.”

Toph is toying with her headband, using it to poke between her toes. “I’m with Snoozles. We should really try to get our plans to the Earth King as fast as possible. Then we can get the hell out of this city.”

Katara hops off the couch to refill her waterskins at the basin, trying to hide her relieved expression. “They’re right, Aang. We should focus on finding Appa and figuring out the invasion first. I’m sure my necklace will turn up! It always does.”

Aang nods. “Yeah, I get it. But we’ll find it as soon as we can, okay?”

She smiles reassuringly.

~

Zuko peers into the teashop from behind the counter, counting the amount of customers who need serving. Sure that his uncle can handle it on his own for a while, Zuko slips out the backdoor into the alley.

The alley is empty save for a few abandoned carts collecting dust. The bustle of the main streets can be heard on either side but hardly anyone glances into the dark cove.

The mid-afternoon sun is high and heavy, but Zuko relishes its presence. He draws on its heat, feels it burn through his veins. Breathing deeply, eyes closed in concentration, he slides into a basic stance.

Drawing on his inner fire, he steps and throws a punch down the alley.

He opens one eye, praying for some sort of flame. His fist smolders, prickling with a fire that won’t burst.

He grunts and throws a regular punch at the wall, hardly feeling the skin on his knuckles split against the brick.

The one thing he was born to do and he can’t even do that.

Okay, okay, what would Uncle say right now? he contemplates, holding his mildly bleeding hand against his chest. ‘Zuko, it is not your ability that is wanting but your ability to look within yourself to seek your true abilities.’ he groans internally. That still makes no sense.

Shaking his head, he commits to working through a few more firebending forms, at most producing short erratic sparks. He isn’t sure how much time has passed but sweat is pouring down his temples and drenching his Jasmine Dragon uniform.

He throws in the towel, mounting frustration turning his mind to shreds. Wiping sweat with the corner of his apron, he slides back into the shop.

As much as he wants to rush upstairs and wash the afternoon off himself, his uncle is waiting by the door, tapping his foot expectantly. “What were you up to, nephew?

Zuko sighs. “I was trying to firebend.”

Iroh’s brow lifts in surprise. “Firebending? Any particular reason?”

Bracing himself for another lecture, Zuko stalks over to the teapots, pouring himself a chilled glass. “How many times do I have to explain, Uncle? Azula is on our tails! She’ll be expecting a fight, you know how she is.”

“This again.” Iroh shakes his head. “Prince Zuko, I understand I cannot remove this notion that the Fire Nation is chasing you. I know it is both what you fear and what you desire. But, please, at least do not let my teashop become collateral damage to your ways.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Zuko storms out into the teashop, piling dirty cups angrily.

He feels like he’s teetering on the edge, like his mind is a hurricane thrashing away at his grip on reality. The last time he had felt so tumultuous, he was angry at being stuck here in Ba Sing Se, instead of being allowed by his Uncle to chase the Avatar. All he had wanted was to return home, Avatar in tow. He had been neglectful of his burn wounds, barely caring for his health and lashing out at his uncle who did.

It had taken a long time for that anger to turn to dejection to turn to acceptance of his circumstance.

But the sight of that girl, with eyes bluer than Ember Island oceans and fierce unyielding words spilling past her lips, had made him regress. She’s a curse, he knows it.

But something tells him she’s his answer too.

~

Katara knows breaking into an unsuspecting teashop full of firebenders in the middle of the night may not be her brightest idea yet but it’s too late to turn back.

The streets are emptied save for a few Dai Li posts but she fancies herself a master of stealth as she hugs the shadows. Her shoes are soundless against the stone-paved streets and she keeps half of her water tucked in the palm of her hand.

The gang still hadn’t really figured out what the deal with the Dai Li is quite yet but Katara does know she’d rather not get caught breaking curfew. She had noticed their piercing gazes and Joo Di’s tight smile when any Dai Li were posted nearby. Though the city was a refugee haven, something told Katara they wouldn’t care very much that she was the Avatar’s companion if she were caught breaking the rules.

The sound of feet slipping against stone whispers in her ear, sending her ducking into an alley until her heart stopped pounding in her ears. The patrol of Dai Li, marching in stiff lines to match their stern faces, pass by her hiding spot without glancing her way.

She steals further down the dark alleyway, not particularly sure where in Ba Sing Se she was. Navigation is Sokka’s thing and she’s only been to the Jasmine Dragon once.

Sighing, she heads back down the main street, still lurking in the shadows. Time passes her by but the moon remains high in the sky, lighting her path.

“Hey! You’re breaking curfew!” a voice shouts behind her.

Katara’s spine stiffens, heart pounding wildly. She draws the rest of her water from her water skin, its presence assuring her she would not be the captured one tonight. She pivots on her toes to face the Dai Li voice.

His rocks are poised to handcuff, feet already in an earthbending stance.

But it isn’t her he’s shouting at.

Dirt flies as she throws herself behind a vacant food stall. She counts her heartbeat as the altercation develops to blows.

“I need back up!” The Dai Li soldier shouts. Katara can hear the sounds of struggle but she isn’t sure who was on the other side.

Against her better judgement, she peeks over the dusty wooden table. The Dai Li soldier slides into his bending forms solidly, pushing rock after rock. Clearly trained well, he springs off the wall as he narrowly escapes the deadly end of twin swords.

Twin swords Katara finds a little familiar.

No way.

Scrambling on hands on knees, she crawls closer to the fight. Her head pokes out from the left side. Across the stone-paved street is the Dai Li agent, sweating under his green robes as he ducks under the reach of a broadsword. Two other agents run in from the far side of the street, faces illuminated beneath the street lamps. Between them is the swordwielder, a flurry of motion as he fights off the agents. A mask conceals his features, a taunting blue smile with tusks on each end.

The man hesitates just for a second before throwing one of his swords to pin a soldier against the wall. Katara can’t help but imagine golden eyes staring at her.

She wants to run. Go back home or keep skirting the streets to find the Jasmine Dragon but she feels glued to her spot as the swordwielder takes hit after hit. He remains soundless, even as a boulder to the chest takes him down. His last sword skitters out of reach.

The Dai Li wear triumphant smiles as they wrestle him to his feet to cuff him. The flash of Water Tribe lapis lazuli tied around his wrist winks at her for a second before rock binds his hands together.

Her heart stops, she blinks as if imagining it. Sighing, she rises to her feet, watching a Dai Li agent reach for his mask. I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I?

Adrenaline is already filling her veins as her waterskins pop open.

Feet pounding against the pavement, she encases her arms with the water and reaches across the street to the agent. The water stretches, wrapping around his shoulders. Katara flicks her wrist, throwing the man against the wall.

Her water splashes over the masked man and the other agent who takes no time to summon a few boulders.

She skids out of their path, throwing ice shards at the agent. His distraction with her loosens the grip he has on the man in cuffs. She watches the rock encasing crumble away from his wrists as he slams them against the brick wall. Katara can’t help a silent smile as he rushes to grab his swords.

Dai Li agents seem to double in numbers every second that passes. They emerge from the shadows and Katara finds herself fearing arrest. For every single agent she knocks out, two others replace him.

She sweeps her leg, water follows its trail and knocks back several Dai Li agents. A presence at her back sets her spine straight but it’s only the masked stranger standing at her back, swords a swift blur.

Instinct takes over. Her body moves through bending forms on its own volition while overly aware of the potential firebender at her back.

A streetful of Dai Li agents either lying unconscious on the pavement or pinned to several buildings are left when they’re done.

Katara’s panting wildly, her heart pounding out of her chest. So much for a discreet heist.

“Come with me.” the masked man grabs her risk and drags her off before she can bother protesting.

~

Zuko tears off his mask as they duck into the alleyway behind the Jasmine Dragon. He waits for surprise to flicker over the waterbender’s face but it doesn’t come.

She simply looks at him, arms crossed. “I have questions.”

“It seems like you always have questions.” he rolls his eyes, sheathing his swords.

Indignation fills her voice. “Yeah, well you owe me answers! Why do you have my mother’s necklace? You took it from me on purpose, didn’t you? Of course you did, why wouldn’t you stoop so low, firebender? You know—”

He grabs her shoulders, hushing her quietly. “Please, stop. You talk more than my uncle.”

Her blue eyes blaze. “Fine. Say your piece.”

He shakes his head. She really is something. “Fine. I didn’t take your necklace, you left it here.”

“And you decided to comb the streets of Ba Sing Se looking for me?! Why?” she’s straining to keep her voice low.

“Let me talk!” Zuko didn’t exactly have an answer as to why he thought taking the necklace and sneaking out would be a good idea. There was a very slim chance he would run into her or find where she was staying but he had taken the chance anyway. He can’t help but feel a little smug that it worked out. “I needed answers. I needed to know what you know about Azula.”

“I’m still not convinced you’re not working with her. Your uncle is nice enough but you, I don’t know.” she steps away from him, eyeing the necklace dangling from his wrist.

“I’m not working with my sister and I never would!” he chews his lip, eyes flickering over her face. He sighs. “I just want to keep my uncle and his teashop safe from her. If she found out we were in the city…”

Her eyes soften a little and something in Zuko’s chest shifts. He throws the feeling to the back of his mind. There’s no time to analyze that. “I— fine. But I have questions too.”

He nods, feeling the pit in his stomach dissipate. He’ll finally get answers. He can finally find peace.

“Are you two going to keep shouting in the alleyway or will you at least come inside?”

Zuko jumps back at the sound of his uncle’s voice. The waterbender is holding fistfuls of his shirt, equally startled.

Iroh grins at them, still in his pajamas. He gestures for them to follow, humming as he leads them into the teashop.

Zuko and the waterbender girl glance at each other before she yanks back her hands and follows his uncle.

Zuko shakes his head and shuts the door behind them.

[araxiis]

The Art Of Anaesthesia- Kuzupeko

For @let-it-be-canon ♡

Words: 2547 (jesus)

Based on the song The Art Of Anaesthesia by SayWeCanFly (video above)

Read on Wattpad

A/N: I had an idea for an AMV but I can't draw so I wrote it out :) it's really long and the format screwed up and I'm sorry

Bold italics are lyrics

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

Sometimes I think about who I should believe,

The people who are dead or the people who are free.

Sometimes I hear them as they whisper to me.

I try to stay awake so I won't die in my sleep.

The game was over. The Neo World Program had been destroyed, the students freed from their false reality. The 5 survivors woke up in a hospital, fashioned with everything they needed to recover from their stasis. Luckily for them, it was a rather quick process to get them back on their feet. When they could walk steadily on their own, they were permitted to go to the wing where the 'dead' students resided.

Sonia found Gundham's room first, with Kazuichi trailing behind her like a lost puppy. She tested the handle, but found the door to be locked. Akane did the same to Nekomaru's door, and received the same result. It seemed all the doors were deadbolted, impassable. Hajime lingered behind the rest, quietly coming to terms with the fact that there was no door with Chiaki's name written on it.

Fuyuhiko walked slowly through the wing, reading each nameplate carefully until he found the one he was looking for. He put his fingers on the edge of the door's small window and peered inside. She was there.

Lying unconscious, facing away from the window, glasses missing, but she was there. And according to the doctors, she would be okay. Fuyuhiko fumbled for the doorknob, but came up disappointed as he remembered the boundaries set. He heard Sonia's bright voice from behind him.

"Don't worry Fuyuhiko, it should not take too long for everyone to return to us."

She was wrong.

And I was quick to take a second look through

The window on the door of the operating room,

And the adrenaline, it threw my eyes

To the table on the floor where the patients lie.

I saw his face and I could not speak,

As the anesthetic kissed his cheek,

I felt my lips go cold and my limbs go weak

Because the body on the table where the patients die was me.

It was me.

It should have been him.

He should've been the one that got executed, not her. The whole thing was his stupid fucking idea anyways. He leaned his head back, resting it on the cold steel of Peko's room. Ever since the wing was opened six months ago, he spent every day sitting in front of her door. He would stay there all night if he could, but the staff weren't too fond of that idea. Sometimes he would talk to her, about how everyone was doing, about the final trial, whatever he was thinking about. He knew she couldn't possibly hear him, but it made him feel better either way. He saw Sonia down the hall, crying in front of Gundham's room, Kazuichi trying desperately to comfort her. Fuyuhiko closed his eyes tight, on the verge of tears but refusing to cry. It was gonna be okay. Just a little fucking longer.

Give me back my oxygen mask,

Cause I don't want to feel the walls of my heart collapse,

So put me under.

I would sooner die on this table

Than face what causes me to be so unstable.

The five of them sat in a small lobby in the hospital, waiting for the patient's wing to be open. They were talking normally, trying to distract one another from the harsh reality they were living. At seven precisely, a tired-looking doctor opened the door to the wing and addressed the classmates.

"Good news. The first of your classmates has woken up."

The doctor continued talking, but was unheard. The group sprinted past him and frantically started testing the doorknobs on the rooms. Fuyuhiko ran to Peko's door and clumsily reached for the handle.

It didn't move.

Something in his chest dropped. He couldn't contain his disappointment, but was distracted when he heard crying down the wing. Blinking his eyes clear, he continued to run until he reached the open door. Upon entering, he saw Sonia, crying, arms thrown around Gundham's shoulders. He looked like absolute hell, but there was no denying he was alive. Akane and Hajime were smiling politely, and Kazuichi was in the corner of the room, face as pink as his hair. Fuyuhiko half-smiled, nodded to Gundham, and left. He walked towards the room he was staying in, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He was happy for Sonia, and Gundham, obviously, but he couldn't help but wish it had been Peko. He stopped by her door and placed his hand on the thin, wired window.

"Cone back to me soon, okay?"

There was a lie between my demons and me,

And a body made of paper in the passenger seat.

As I open my eyes, I could not see.

I felt the stitches come loose and the blood run free.

Six months after Gundham had woken up, almost all of their classmates had returned to them. There was no structure to their recovery. Two days after Gundham, Mikan woke up. About a week after, it was Mahiru. (That was a rather uncomfortable reunion for Fuyuhiko.)

Twelve of them were awake, but three remained asleep.

Nagito, Ibuki, and Peko.

Fuyuhiko sat in one of the poorly-upholstered chairs in the lobby, staring down at his hands. It had been two weeks since Teruteru woke up, the next person had to wake up soon, right?

Just then, he heard shouting down the patient's wing. His heart filled with hope. Someone woke up. It had to be Peko, right?

Yeah, it had to.

He ran towards the sound of voices, anxious and hopeful, but was stopped short when he found the source. The class was gathered in the room across from Peko's, door propped open, talking to Ibuki.

Ibuki...

Fuck.

Fuyuhiko's body began to shake. Why the fuck wasn't Peko waking up? It was his fault, wasn't it? He felt anger, worry, hate, building up inside of him, and he punched the wall at full force. The walls were sturdy and solid brick, but he couldn't feel anything but his blood boiling. He kept punching, yelling, until his fist was bloody and mangled. One punch hit a nerve that shot sparks up his arm, and he dropped his hand to his side. Sweating and overwhelmed, Fuyuhiko looked down at his broken, bloody hand, the pain of his actions finally setting in. His head went light as the pain started to spread, he felt his knees give out below him. He heard Hajime distantly call his name, and everything went dark.

And as my thoughts began to shake,

I felt the hand of the darkness kiss my face.

And then the devil woke up and he grabbed my throat.

He pulled me down to the place where the silence grows.

He looks at me with hollow eyes,

And he whispered my name as the flowers died.

I felt my heart go cold as I sank between

The ocean I am and the river I'm meant to be.

I'm meant to be...

Fuyuhiko opened his eyes to find himself lying in a hospital bed of his own. His clothes were still dusty and stained with blood, but his hand had been stitched up and wrapped in gauze. Running his good hand through his hair, he leaned back onto the paper-covered pillow.

"What the fuck happened?" He mumbled towards the ceiling.

"You passed out," a voice replied.

He was talking to himself, so he was rather startled when he heard the response. His head snapped towards the door, where he saw Hajime leaning against the doorframe.

"It was either shock or blood loss," he continued. "Twogami and I got you here, and Mikan helped the doctors fix you up. We're just across the hall from everyone else. You should be fine to walk around now, just be careful." Hajime turned to leave, but paused outside the door.

"Don't take too long though," he said over his shoulder. "There's.. something you should see."

With that he left, leaving only Fuyuhiko, considering his words. Something he needed to see? What the fuck was..

Holy shit.

Give me back my oxygen mask,

He practically fell out of the bed in his panic to get out of the room.

Cause I don't want to feel the walls of my heart collapse,

So put me under.

He ran faster than he ever had before, shouting breathless profanities at the nurses that tried to stop him.

I would sooner die on this table

He sprinted through the lobby, down the blank white halls, to the door he had spent so much time talking to. He forced his way through the group of his classmates gathered outside of it and-

Than face what causes me to be so unstable.

She had been looking for him too.

As soon as he burst into her room, their eyes locked. They stayed frozen like that for a while, Peko sitting perfectly straight in her bed, Fuyuhiko struggling to catch his breath in the middle of the room, eyes never leaving each other's. Eventually, Fuyuhiko slowly crossed the room to Peko's bed, and perched himself on the edge. Peko had so much she wanted to say to him, but for once, she wasn't able to find the right words. He rested his good hand gently on her leg and started the conversation himself.

"You look like hell."

Peko smiled weakly. "So do you," she retaliated, noticing the bandages on his arm. She reached out to take his hand in hers, but pulled her hands quickly to her chest when she realized what she was doing. 

"Forgive me, Young Master, I wasn't-"

Fuyuhiko leaned forward and took her clasped hands in both of his, startling her into silence. He held their hands between them, even though the rest of the class was only feet away.

"Forget that shit, Peko. I'm just so damn happy you're okay."

Peko felt her face go warm as the reality of his words set in. She could remember their last moments together on the island, but that hadn't been real.

This was real. They were real.

Fuyuhiko let go of her hands, which saddened her for a moment, until his hands came to rest on either side of her face. She felt her heartbeat quicken as he rested his forehead against hers. He stroked her cheekbone gently with his thumb, able to feel the corner of her mouth twitching up. Cautiously, Peko rested her shaking hand on his side, just to see what would happen. His smile grew wider, almost splitting his face in two, and he whispered something she could hardly hear. She couldn't be sure, and it could've been wishful thinking, but she could've sworn he said 'I love you'.

She slid her other arm around his waist and locked her hands behind his back. They could hear the quiet words of their classmates, as well as Kazuichi scoffing "fucking finally" and getting shushed by Sonia. They were both smiling wide, eyes closed, beyond thankful to be together again.

Now I'm standing by the window on a Sunday.

And I can't quite recall

Why I cannot move at all

Neither one of them wanted to leave the other's side, but Fuyuhiko insisted Peko start the recovery process as soon as possible. Her body was weak from being immobile for so long, so, much to her dismay, she was bound to a wheelchair. Most days she sat with her back to the room, staring vacantly out the window.

And I feel so tired and wounded,

Like the stitches on my soul came apart.

I'm standing here in the dark.

Despite his protests, the doctors refused to let Fuyuhiko stay with Peko at night while she recovered. During the day, however, you would never find him anywhere else. He stood by her side when she stared out the window. She would admire the view, he would admire her.

Well, maybe it's from the drinks we had last night,

But good god, I love those friends of mine.

The best that alcohol can buy.

Sometimes they talked, but mostly they enjoyed the silence. It was that special kind of silence, where you don't have to talk to enjoy each other's company. On this day in particular, though, Peko's voice cut through the quiet.

"I could hear you. While I was asleep."

Fuyuhiko raised his eyebrow slightly, but said nothing. Peko was still staring out the window, but her eyes seemed less vacant than they were before.

Or maybe it's from the lack of sleep,

But all those secrets I've kept, trying to be so sweet to you.

It's dark, my dear,

But it got me through,

It got me through.

"Most of the time, it was just dark. Dark and quiet," she continued. "Sometimes, though, I heard you talking. It was difficult to tell what you were saying, but I am certain it was your voice. I was unsure what it meant, but," she paused. "But I had reason to believe you were okay. And it was.. very relieving. Before I woke up, I remember hearing you yelling. You sounded hurt, but it got suddenly silent a moment later. I believe-" she looked down at her knees. "I believe my concern for you in that moment was the reason I was able to wake up."

Fuyuhiko stayed silent, causing Peko to fear that the words she chose were the wrong ones. She searched for the right words to apologize with, but her panic was cut short by the feeling of his lips on hers.

So give me back my oxygen mask,

She would be lying if she said she had never imagined this moment before, but never in a million years did she think it would actually happen.

Cause I don't want to feel the walls of my heart collapse,

So put me under.

It wasn't just their professional relationship that wavered her hope; she knew him well enough to know he wasn't exactly the sentimental type. She was unaware at the time, but losing her had been the thing to change him.

I would sooner die on this table

She wasn't complaining though, quite the opposite. She was rather inexperienced though, so she was unsure what she was meant to do. Luckily, she wasn't the only one who was nervous.

Then face what causes me to be so unstable.

She brushed her fingers through his hair, their kiss growing more intense.

Causes me to be so unstable.

He rested one hand on the back of her neck, pulling her closer.

Causes me to be so unstable.

They could worry about consequences later. For now, they were the happiest they had ever been.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm only a ghost,

Wearing human skin I never chose.

I listen to the devil as he spoke

Because he tempted me with a beautiful rose.

[hawkinsgalore]

Love Me Less (werewolf!shawn)

summary: werewolf!au in which if you love someone, your first kiss will reveal their darkest secret.

A/N: welcome friends!! this is my first ever work and i’m so excited to post it. i’ve always wanted to start writing but i never got around to it because i’m always so busy with school, but now that it’s over i finally have time to write a few things. don’t be too hard on me, keep in mind that this is my first time writing any type of fic/au so i’m still trying to get the hang of it. hope you like it!! any feedback is highly appreciated xx

warnings: anger issues; mentions of a physical attack and mentions of a coma.

5.2k words

You had first met Shawn at your first year of college when you were at a party that a friend you both had in common was throwing.

You had been talking to some friends when you felt someone’s eyes on you, making you turn around and search for whoever it was around the room, and that’s when you saw him for the first time.

As the night went on, you kept catching his gaze on you, however, he hadn’t gone to talk to you so you were starting to wonder if maybe you just had something on your face and that was the only reason he was looking at you, because it surely couldn’t be because he was interested in you, a guy like him would usually never even look your way.

It was now 3 am, the party was starting to die down, and you were just about ready to go home and sleep, it had been a tiring day of classes and the only reason you were at this party was the fact that it was your friend’s birthday and you would feel bad if you didn’t show up. Right as you were leaving, you felt someone tug on your arm, making you jump, having been too focused on getting home to even realize someone was approaching.

“Hey”, the stranger said once you turned around. Your mind didn’t register immediately who it was, but now you realized this was the handsome boy that kept looking at you throughout the night. “Sorry if I scared you, but I just watched you leave and couldn’t have you go without talking to you”.

“Uh- no it’s okay, I just wasn´t expecting it” you gave him a small smile, still a little confused as to what he could possibly want to talk to you about “What did you want to talk to me about?”

He scratched the back of his neck as if he was nervous to be talking to you and this only made your own nerves grow, “Oh, it’s just that I was wondering if you were a werewolf too..? Because it’s unsual for me to run into one and as soon as you walked in I could sense you but I didn’t want to seem like a douche by straight up going to ask you about it- but I guess that’s kind of what I’m doing right now uh” he let out a small nervous chuckle.

You were a bit taken back by what he said, first of all because there’s barely any wolfs in the city so it’s not every day that you get to meet one, and also because you didn’t even smell him when you came into the room, which could only be because of how tired you were, “Yeah- uh, yeah I am, sorry I’m just surprised I didn’t even notice you”

He laughed, now not seeming half as nervous as he was before “It’s okay” he gave you a smile and it was so beautiful that you felt like you could pass out at any second “So, what’s your name?”

And that was how your friendship started. Being two of the very few werewolves that went to the college you both went to, or that even lived in this city, you felt a huge connection right from the beginning, especially since you were able to talk with him about things that normal people just wouldn’t understand. Being with Shawn felt as if you were right at home and that gave you a sense of comfort that you had yet to experience with anyone else.

You learned that Shawn was a music major, since that was most of what he ever talked about. You’d never met someone that was as passionate about what they did like he was, it was truly amazing to watch him whenever he was playing or talking about music because you could just tell he was right in his element.

You two barely spent any time apart from each other. It wasn’t as if you didn’t have any other friends, and of course you still spent some time with them, but being around Shawn just felt so natural and safe, and every time you spent a lot of time apart from each other you were texting or facetiming non-stop, you just couldn’t get enough of one another. He managed to win a spot in your heart so fast that it kinda scared you at the beggining, but now it just felt so right that you didn’t even question it.

It was more than obvious that you both had feelings for each other and your friends kept teasing the both of you about it and telling you to get together, however nothing ever happened. It wasn’t as if you never tried, a few months into your friendship, right when you first started to develop feelings for Shawn, you had tried to kiss Shawn a few times, thinking there was no way he couldn’t not feel the way you felt, but he always seemed to avoid it. The first time it happened you thought he probably just didn’t realize you wanted to kiss him, but as you gave it a few more tries you started to think that maybe he just didn’t have any feelings for you so you decided to not push it, thinking that it was better to have Shawn as only a friend, rather than not having him at all.

You always thought maybe Shawn didn’t want to kiss you because of the kissing rule that applied to every werewolf couple that stated that if you truly loved someone, the moment you had your first kiss you would be able to see each other’s darkest secret. However, that thought quickly made it’s way out of your head, because in your mind Shawn was the purest person in this world, so what could his secret be, shop lifting a pack of gum from a convenience store when he was 4? Surely this couldn’t be the reason why he didn’t wanna kiss you, and so you had to accept the fact that he most likely just didn’t see you in a romantic way.

Today just happened to be the day Shawn graduated from college and therefore he was throwing a small get together in his apartment, and you had been feeling extremely anxious. It wasn’t as if you were feeling like this because of the party, I mean, you had already been to way too many parties at Shawn’s apartment since most of the people in your friend group either lived in the uni dorms or were sharing their houses with more people, so this was always the best place to give a party without having to worry about anyone else, however this party was a little different than usual. It was Shawn’s last party as a college student and you knew it was probably the last party you would attend in this apartment. You knew Shawn had been receiving offers to go work for a few labels in a bunch of different cities, which wasn’t surprising given how talented and passionate he was about his work, but none of those cities happened to be Toronto. You had grown so used to seeing Shawn so much over the past few years that you didn’t know what you would do if he moved to a place where you could only see him maybe once or twice a year, and knowing Toronto wasn’t his home, his breaks from work would obviously be spent there and not here, where you still had one more year of college waiting for you.

Arriving to Shawn’s condo you realized it was more than the small get together that Shawn had talked to you about, the place being filled with people and the music was so loud that you were surprised the neighbors weren’t complaining yet. You would usually arrive before the parties even started, to help him set everything up, but today you had a few last minute essays to make and you only managed to arrive as the party was in full swing.

You turned around as you heard someone call your name to see Shawn’s friend, Brian, and you made your way to him and a few other people that you vaguely recognized from other parties, “Thought you weren´t gonna make it tonight!” he pulled you into a side hug and you slightly waved to the people standing with him.

“I had a few essays to send before coming here, but you know I would never miss a change to see you shitfaced” you laughed and he mocked an insulted face.

“Hey! Someone’s gotta bring some energy to this party, and speaking of energy let’s go get you a drink” he stated, while dragging you to the kitchen and making you a drink as you both chatted. You couldn’t help but look around trying to see Shawn, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Brian, “You looking for Shawn?”

“Uh no, I was just trying to find some familiar faces” he clearly caught on to your lie, making him laugh and shake his head, “It’s true, stop judging me”

“Yeah sure, the only familiar face you wanted to find was Shawn’s and you and I both know it. But I think his mom called him so he went somewhere quiet to answer it, probably his room or something”, that made you feel a lot more relieved. All this thinking about the fact that he might be leaving soon just made you want to be around him even more lately, and I think this feeling went both ways, with Shawn always seeming to find a reason to be with you a lot more lately, probably thinking you wouldn’t notice it.

Not wanting to seem clingy, you put Shawn in the back of your mind and went back to the living room with Brian and to try and see if you found some other people to talk to, as this was not only Shawn’s last party as a college student but it would also be the last one to some of your other friends, who you were hoping to see here tonight knowing you were most likely not going to be seeing them a lot next year as most of them would end up leaving too.

If you thought the place was full when you got here, it seemed that even more people kept showing up and the place was now packed in every place possible, and you could see that even the balcony was full at this point.

You felt someone sneak up from behind you, making you tense up for a few seconds, but you instantly recognized their smell, making you relax, “Hey” Shawn whispered in your ear, remaining behind you, “I’m glad you could make it, this party wouldn’t be the same without you”.

If it wasn’t for the fact that you were wearing foundation, you were sure everyone in the party would be able to see you blushing. That seemed to always happen whenever Shawn got a little too touchy with you, or made any type of cute comment, which seemed to happen a lot. “You know I would never miss any of your parties for anything in the world” you turned around smiling at him, while his arms remained around your waist “however, a little someone forgot to inform me that this wasn’t a small get together after all and now I feel as if I’m underdressed compared to everyone here” you poked his chest with your finger accusingly.

“I don’t ever feel the need to tell you what to dress ‘cause no matter what you wear you’ll still be the most beautiful girl here” and if you were blushing before now you felt as if your face was on fire and you think the foundation probably was no help with how red you probably looked. You looked down with the biggest smile on your face, avoiding his eyes, hoping he probably wouldn’t notice how flushed you had just gotten. But, of course, as every other moment you have with Shawn, this moment was broken as you both heard someone yell his name from the other side of the room, and before you could even notice it, he was giving you a peck on the cheek and telling you he’d see you later and went to check on whatever his friend wanted.

That was the last you saw of him throughout the whole party, as you were busy mingling with friends that you hadn’t seen in a while and catching up, and you could only assume Shawn was doing the same, since all these people were here for him after all, and he was never the host to just ignore people, he made sure he talked to everyone and wanted to guarantee that they were all enjoying the party.

Now however, a little after 4 am, the party has started to die down, and the only people left were some of you guys’ closest friends and some people that were passed out on the couch and on some chairs, you even think you saw someone sleeping on the hallway, but you weren’t sure. You were sitting in one of the lounge couches in the balcony with Lindsay, one of the friends you had made through Shawn, when you saw him open the door to step outside to the balcony. “Well, it’s getting a little cold out here so I’m just gonna head inside for a bit” you looked at Lindsay, noticing that she was already up and leaving for the door, and you could see the thankful smile Shawn sent her, noticing she was only leaving to give you two some time alone, knowing you hadn’t both seen each other much since the beginning of the party.

Shawn immediately looked your way after that, giving you a big smile and going to sit down next to you, “Hey stranger”.

You returned the smile and put your head on his shoulder as he went to put his arm around you, “Did you enjoy your party?” you craned your neck so you could look up to him and realized he still had a big smile on his face while looking out to the view of his balcony, and that alone made your heart skip a beat.

“Yeah, I had a great time, it was nice to see a lot of people that I hadn’t seen in a while and just catch up. It sucked not seeing you for the whole party though, didn’t have my partner with me, but everyone just kept coming up to me and I barely even had time to drink” now it was his turn to look down at you “Did you have a good time though?”

“Yeah, I was also catching up with some people that I haven’t seen in a while that also graduated, it was nice. I also quite enjoyed seeing Brian getting drunk off his ass and making a fool out of himself but that’s not new” you both laughed at that, remembering all the stupid things your friend had done, as you both looked away from each other and focused your attention on the city lights in front of you.

Silence settled over the both of you, but not an awkward silence, but a rather peaceful one, where you were contebt enough with just being in each other’s presence, especially since you could tell you were both growing tired. A few minutes went by and you started to get in your head about an issue that has been occupying most of your thoughts lately, and that was of course, Shawn leaving. You would miss moments like this the most, or maybe not, because you were sure you would miss every moment with Shawn the most, because he always made your life better, even by just being there.

“I’m really gonna miss you when you leave” you didn’t notice him moving his head or anything, and you hoped he hadn’t fallen asleep on you, “I wish I didn’t have one more year of college left and I could just pack up things and leave with you, ‘cause I don’t know how I’m gonna make it here without you.”

“Who said I was going to leave this place?”, this was not the response you were thinking you were gonna get, so you sat up straight to look at him with wide eyes.

“What?”, out of all the job offers he had gotten he never told you about any in Toronto and you were just hoping he wasn’t thinking about not going to work at any of those just to stay here. “You didn’t ever tell me you had gotten an offer in Toronto, and besides, I thought you always said you wanted to get out of here and go to LA or whatever. Please don’t tell me you’re thinking about not going to work now to take a gap year or some shit”.

“God, of course not” he shook his head sitting up straighter to be able to look at you, “Those were amazing job offers, but I sent my application to a really good label here in Toronto and that way I don’t have to move”.

“But why?”, you looked at him with confusion written on your face, “I mean, don’t get me wrong of course I want you to stay here and I’m gonna be so happy if you do but I also really want you to follow your dreams, and I know how much you liked that one label down in the states”

He shook his head while giving a small laugh “Do you really not get it?”

“Get what? Shawn stop making me even more confused. I’m not drunk but with this conversation I feel like I could be right now” he laughed even harder also making you smile. No matter how serious you tried to be, his laugh was still one of your favorite things in the world.

However, when his laugh died down, he looked you straight in the eyes and you could tell that the conversation was about to get serious. “I don’t wanna leave this place because I don’t wanna leave you, you’ve become my home and I don’t think I could survive without you at this point. God, I’ve liked you for so long now, I think my heart has belonged to you from the moment we met.“

“Wait what? Okay but how- uh, what?”, to say you were shocked was an understatement, you didn’t think your brain was working right at this point and your heart had for sure stopped beating. “Shawn that’s not possible, I tried to get with you for so long and you always blocked all my attempts to kiss you. If you liked me you would’ve made some kind of move at this point, I mean, we’ve been friends for years now!”

He hung his head and avoided looking at you, as if he was ashamed of what he’d done. “I’ve always wanted to kiss you, you have no clue how hard it was for me to just ignore you all those times when what I wanted to do the most was just grab your face and kiss you. But the kissing rule just made everything so much harder, because I didn’t want you to see what I’d done and not want to be with me anymore and possibly be afraid of me, that’s what I’m scared of the most, because I didn’t want to lose you so I thought that it would be better if we just remained friends so I wouldn’t have to be without you.”

He still avoided looking into your eyes and instead just looked straight ahead and this only made you grow worried for him, “Shawn I’m sure what you did wasn’t as bad as you think it was and you know that no matter what you do I would never love you less.”

“I’m not quite sure you’ll still feel the same way once I tell you what I did”, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Shawn just please talk to me, I promise that I won’t ever run from you.”

This got him to look at you, and his face looked beyond sad and it completely broke your heart, “You promise?”

You extended your pinky finger, “I promise” and he locked his finger with yours.

“Okay, so…” he took a deep breath once again, trying to think of a way to start telling you what he hoped he could just keep to himself forever, “When I was younger, I used to get angry a lot and just lash out on people from a really young age, and as the son of an alpha, it would be normal for me to get a little angrier than most, with the alpha genes running through my veins, especially at a younger age where I still can’t control my emotions very well. But the way I got angry was a lot more aggressive and more out of control than usual, so my parents took me to see one of their friends that is a psychologist specialized in werewolves, and that’s where I got diagnosed with IED, which is called intermittent explosive disorder that was the cause for all my impulsive anger outbursts. Because I was so young I didn’t really understand how bad and dangerous it was for me to have that, but I still started taking medication for it anyways, mostly because my parents made sure I took my pills every morning. Everything was a lot better, and I would rarely getting angry anymore, until one day where I was naïve and stupid and since my parents had to leave earlier for work in the morning I didn’t take the pills because I thought I didn’t need them anymore…” he shook his head as if he was angry at himself and hid his face in his hands.

A wave of sadness took over me and I immediately felt bad for asking him to tell me this story when it was still so clear how much it hurt him to talk about it, so I place my hand on his shoulder trying to see if it would give him even just the slightest bit of comfort, “If you don’t want to talk about this you don’t have to, I know how hard this must be for you and I don’t want you to do something you’re not comfortable with”

He immediately took his hands out of his face and shook his head, “No, I want to tell you this because otherwise I know this will forever be an obstacle stopping us being together.”

I grabbed his hand now and gave it a little squeeze, silently telling him that I was here for him, “Okay so, on that day I didn’t take my pills and thought nothing would happen so I just left for school as I would do any other day. For most of the day everything went by smoothly, nobody annoyed me so I didn’t get angry at anyone. I was about 14 at that time and was playing on a football team after school, because my parents thought that with IED it was also really important for me to do some kind of sport and I also really liked it, so, after school, I had football practice. Most of practice went by well, with the usual bickering but nothing I wasn’t used to, I mean this was sports after all, so of course there had to be some. But there was just this guy that kept annoying me and trying to get me to fail and just straight up wanted to get me angry to try and get a rise out of me since my team was winning, and his wasn’t. And if I had taken the pills I probably would just let it slide, but I hadn’t and so I just kept getting angrier every time he did something, and since I was basically a walking time bomb, eventually I snapped.”

He still wasn’t looking at me, only looking straight ahead, and the look of pain on his face told me he was seeing it all play outin his head as he kept talking, almost as if he wasn’t even there anymore and was back to that day when he was 14. After a few moments of silence he gained the courage to start speaking again. “I started yelling at him and he started yelling back at me and the we just kind of started pushing each other and it all kind of spiraled from there. You know how people say that your first time turning is usually when you’re feeling something really strongly? Yeah well, all that anger caused me to turn for the first time.”

A gasp left my mouth before I could even prevent it, and you could hear Shawn sigh, knowing you probably already assumed what happened next.

“Since I have alpha genes, even though I was so young, I was still bigger than most wolves would usually be, and when I turned I hit him with my body with a lot of strength, and it obviously wasn’t on purpose but this was my first time turning and I had no idea what was happening and I guess I just kind of hit him way too hard, and since he was human he fell and hit his head on the ground really hard. My coach, that had left to go get something a little before we started fighting arrived just as that happened and ran to grab me to calm me down, since he was a wolf himself and then realized the kid wasn’t standing up and went to see him but he just remained unconscious. I wasn’t even angry anymore at that point, I was just scared because I had never turned before in my life and also because I didn’t mean to hit him and was afraid I hurt him too much. Eventually an ambulance came to get him and he was still unconscious and I just literally stood still, not moving, until my parents went to get me. I had so much fear inside of me that I couldn’t even move”

I could see a tear rolling down his face and it shattered my heart in pieces just thinking that he had to go through any of this. But as he stopped talking my head was asking the question that I was way too afraid to ask out loud.

“And no, the kid didn’t die, but I don’t know what’s worse, because he stayed in a coma for so many months that nobody thought he was going to wake up, eventually he did though, but he just had so much brain damage from hitting his head and being in a coma for so long that now he’s barely living. At one point, when he woke up, he couldn’t even talk and move, and it took him so many years to start doing it a little better. Now he already talks and is able to walk normally, if it’s not a lot, otherwise his brain will get all confused and he’ll need some help but he can do just the basic things to live. I was so traumatized by all of it that me and my parents had to move because I just couldn’t bare to live with myself and with the looks that everyone started giving me whenever I was out of the house, even my friends were afraid of me, but I think that the person that was afraid the most was me. I got so scared of myself that even while taking the pills I was afraid I would snap at someone like that again and started having a lot of anxiety, so I closed myself off from everyone and I didn’t even wanna make friends, so afraid I would do something to them. But eventually I started realizing that that wasn’t me, and I didn’t voluntarily harm him and I would never do that to anyone and I just guess I tried to forget it even happened and only my family and Brian know about it 'cause I didn’t want people to be afraid of me, but then you came along and I really wanted to tell you but I was just too afraid to do it and that it would make you want to stay away from me.”

As he stopped talking he looked at me waiting for some kind of reaction, but I couldn’t even speak, I was just looking at him with my mouth agape, still processing everything he just told me.

“I knew I shouldn’t have told you, now you’re probably afraid of me” he started shaking his head once again, and you could see sadness take over his face.

That snapped me out of my thoughts completely and I managed to squeeze his hands again, “I’m not afraid of you Shawn, and I promised you I wasn’t going to run and I intend on keeping that promise. I know that wasn’t you, and I know you would never intentionally hurt someone, so no, I would never be afraid of you. I’m just so shocked as to everything you went through and how you managed to get your life together after all that. This just shows how strong you are and it probably even made me love you even more, not less.”

This managed to get a smile out of him and I could see him releasing a breath that he probably didn’t even realize he was holding, “It just feels so good to finally be honest with you, it feels like the weight of the whole world has been lifted off my shoulders. Thank you for being so understanding, I love you so much”, he leaned forward to give me a hug.

“Thank you for sharing this with me and finally being open about your feelings it also means a lot to me” you pulled away from the hug with the biggest smile on your face.

The fact that Shawn reciprocated the feelings you had for him, and that he was also staying in Toronto with you brought you the biggest rush of happiness you had ever felt. Never in your life had you felt as strongly about someone has you do for him, and you had never considered the fact that you might be mates because you always thought he didn’t feel the same way, but now it all made sense. The pull you always felt towards him and the fact that you couldn’t stay too long away from each other all clicked in your mind now, and you realized that this was never just a regular friendship to begin with. Shawn always knew you were his mate, but he was too scared to act on it, but now there was nothing stopping him, he thinks that he’s always known ever since he felt the urge to go talk to you during that party and he didn’t rest until he knew your name. Now there was nothing stopping you two from being together, something that was always meant to happen, no matter how long it took.

“So… are you gonna kiss me now, or what?”

[buckychristwrites]

Take Me Higher | OS | b.b.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Who knew that the way into the big broody super soldier’s heart was through his unmet need for a good cuddle?

Word Count: 9.5k

Warnings: disgustingly fluffy

A/N: Pure fluff with a side of touch starved Bucky? No one asked for it but here it the fuck is! The song this is based on is Tear In My Heart by Twenty One Pilots! Let me know what you think! :)

Masterlist | Tags List Form

Sometimes you gotta bleed to know

That you’re alive and have a soul

Three in the morning.

It was three in the morning and Bucky hadn’t slept a wink.

A breeze was coming in through the motel room window he cracked open, waving the ugly sage green curtains back and forth. The door was a bright sky blue, matching the color of the logo on the neon sign out front. As Bucky laid in the queen bed covered by the beige comforter, and looked around, he wondered if the interior designer they hired was blind. Even he felt he would’ve done a better job, and he could barely match his clothes.

The mission had been long. Taking out weapons dealers in a small town in Ohio didn’t sound rough on paper, but none of them were prepared for the involvement of HYDRA, who turned out to be the ones being dealt the weapons. Hours of fighting commenced until finally the Avengers were able to take them down. Everyone was so tired that they decided to stop for the night and then head home in the morning. While the Quinjet could get them back in a few hours, no one had the energy to spend that long amount of time in such close quarters.

Despite not getting injured, Bucky was sore from being knocked round. The warm shower he had taken just an hour before helped only minimally, but now it was the cool evening air blowing against his bare torso that was making him feel better. All that was running through his mind was being in his own bed. The hotel bed was comfortable enough, but he preferred his firm mattress. Sam had once mentioned that he preferred a firm mattress because of his time in the war, and Bucky had to agree.

He stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. Missions didn’t usually tire him like this, but HYDRA missions always took their toll. It was hard not to be brought back to the years he spent with them, watching the horror he committed through his own eyes without being able to do a thing to stop it. It didn’t affect him the way that it used to, but it still left him with deep emotional and physical exhaustion. Yet, despite that, he was unable to fall asleep no matter how long he laid there. It was quite the oxymoron, being so tired that one can’t sleep.

A loud knock at the door startled Bucky, almost making him fall out of the bed. He looked at the clock to make sure he didn’t fall asleep without knowing it, and was slightly relieved and yet confused when it read ten after three in the morning. He stared at the door, a few moments passing before three more knocks echoed through the room. Who would be knocking at this hour? Was it a threat? He highly doubted it, but his mind always went there first. As he stood up off the bed, slowly making his way towards the door, he told himself it was more than likely another member of the team. Sometimes Steve or Tony would check in on him at weird hours, they always somehow knew that he wasn’t sleeping. But none of these reminders calmed his nerves. Peeking through the peephole, he let out a relieved breath before throwing the door open, revealing you on the other side.

“Guess what dumbass thing I just did,” You said with a sheepish smile on your face. Your arms were tightly hugging your torso, and you were shifting back and forth from the tips of your toes to the balls of your feet. Bucky noted your oversized tee shirt and socked feet. For a second, he thought you were pantless until you went up on your tiptoes again and he saw the bottoms of your shorts. The question deep in his mind was how you could be outside in that outfit when it was a cold autumn evening, but he wasn’t about to actually ask.

“What did you do?” He asked, humoring you. It was hard not to with the dorky smile you were giving him. You sighed sharply before dropping your hands to your sides.

“So. Couldn’t sleep, right?” You began. He nodded. “Decide to find the vending machines. So I walk around for awhile before I realize I left my wallet in the room. No big deal. Head back to my room, only to remember as soon as I get there.” You paused, dropping your head to the side and looking at him in annoyance. “My room card is in my wallet.” Your head fell back and you stared up at the awning above your head. A gust of wind blew your shirt to the side, and you shivered as you held it down. “I could go down to the lobby to get a new one but it’s such a long walk and I’m freezing. Can I please crash in your room?”

He turned around and looked around the small room. The only other piece of furniture in the room was the one arm chair near the window, but it wasn’t big enough for either of you to sleep in. On one hand, he wasn’t sure where else he would sleep besides the floor if he was going to give you the bed, and with how sore he was, that just didn’t sound ideal. But on the other, there was no way he wasn’t going to let you sleep there. As he turned back towards you, he noticed how violently your body was shaking in the cold, and immediately took a step to the side.

“Of course, get in here,” He insisted, closing the door as soon as you crossed the threshold of the room. Almost immediately, you collapsed onto the right side of the bed, throwing the blankets over yourself. Bucky watched you, the conundrum of where he would sleep still very much alive. Once you stilled in the bed, your eyes found him again.

“What’s wrong?” You asked him.

“Just trying to figure out where I’m gonna sleep,” He mumbled, not returning your gaze as he looked around the room, deep in thought. Maybe the bathtub? He’d just need a pillow and maybe a blanket. There was a spare in the closet. And how many pillows did you need? More than likely you wouldn’t have an issue with letting him use one. Would the floor of the tub still be wet?

“Do I smell or something?” You asked, sounding hurt. He looked back at you to find a look of confusion on your face. “There’s a whole other side of the bed, Bucky. You can definitely sleep here.” His cheeks must have gone red once they started burning, as you huffed and shook your head. “It’s just one night. I’ll stay close to the edge so I won’t bother you. I know you probably don’t like being touched.”

It was only partially true. Bucky didn’t mean to come off as someone to stay away from. It was hard to come back from everything he had been through as an open person. When you joined the team, he was civil with you, but kept you at arm’s length for two reasons. From your first day, it was clear you had a loud and bold personality. You brought something different to the compound, with your loud laughter and the music you played in your room at just a loud enough volume for Bucky to hear from down the hall. There was nothing wrong with any of that. In fact, Bucky loved the new energy that you brought to the compound. But it was the opposite of his own, and he didn’t know how to handle it unless it was from a distance. He was too quiet, too closed off for the sort of boldness you exhumed, and the sort of attention he figured you’d require. He just wasn’t ready for it.

The second reason, and probably the most important one, is that you were very tactile. Touching a person’s arm as you spoke to them. Hugging people from behind when they’re sitting at the table. Laying on someone’s lap while watching a movie. It was a very huge piece of who you were. Hell, the whole reason you were on the team was because you could enhance everyone’s abilities with a touch. You were an important asset, no doubt. And while Bucky didn’t necessarily have an issue with being touched per say, he still wasn’t used to being touched in a way that wasn’t violent or forceful. He jumped at even a slight brush. Even Steve tried not to touch him too often so that he wouldn’t be uncomfortable. It was sort of an unspoken rule to everyone that he was to not be touched, and though you had little interaction with him, it was clear from the few and far between moments the two of you did have that you had gotten that memo.

But with all these things considered, he knew you had a point. It was only one night. Besides, he didn’t feel he was being necessarily fair with his avoidance of you. It wasn’t like you had done anything to wrong him. What control did you have over the type of person you were? He sort of envied it. Maybe sending time with you would open him up more. It was time for him to treat you like a member of the team.

He nodded at you before slowly crossing the room and climbing into the bed himself. As he slipped under the covers, you turned off the light and sunk deeper under them yourself. The only thing he could hear in the darkness was the wind blowing outside and your quiet breathing. Bucky rolled onto his side, facing away from you, and hugged the pillow his head was lying on. The amount of apprehensiveness he felt was indescribable.

It had been quite some time since Bucky had shared a bed with anyone, let alone a woman, and for whatever reason, it left him feeling incredibly anxious. There was about five feet of space between the two of you, as he was right up on the edge. The bed bounced slightly as you tossed and turned in your sleep, but Bucky remained still. His eyes were locked on the digital clock next to his side of the bed. If he wasn’t able to sleep before, there was no way he was going to now.

A half hour had passed. He knew you were asleep, by the way your breathing had slowed and though your moving around hadn’t seized, it wasn’t as forceful as it had been before. It became easier to ignore your shuffling, it only making him wonder how you ever got a good night sleep. He started to calm down up until you were suddenly up against him, your arms tightly wound around him. His entire body tensed under your touch, his skin feeling like it was on fire. His heart was pounding out of his chest, and part of him wondered if he was having a heart attack. Instincts were telling him to pull out of your grasp, or roll over and shove you away, but he didn’t. After the initial shock began to wear down, it actually felt sort of… nice. Despite his racing heart, his body relaxed in your arms. He could feel your face pressed into his hair and he suddenly was thankful he washed it. As his muscles eased, he hesitantly put his arms over your own. Was that the thing to do? He wasn’t sure. But it couldn’t hurt. You were clearly deep in sleep, and probably unaware of your actions. What was the harm in him... enjoying them?

He shuffled backwards slightly, pressing himself into you further. A sigh passed your lips, and he felt you move your head a little as your grip slackened. For a second, he panicked, worrying he had woken you and that you would return to your side. But your arms tightened around him again, your face pressed into his hair once more. Sighing contently, he closed his eyes, and before he knew it he was out like a light.

A pounding on the door woke him up the next morning. Groaning, rolled over in the bed to find you gone. Suddenly, the room felt colder. Slowly, he climbed out of bed and made his way to the door. Flinging the door open, his cheeks began to burn when he found you on the other side. The oversized shirt and pajama shorts were replaced with everyday wear, your backpack slung over your shoulder. The sweet yet amused smile on your face was sending his heart into a frenzy in a way that he didn’t understand.

“Good morning, Princess Aurora,” You said teasingly. “Check out is in a half hour, we gotta get going.” You tugged at the strap on your shoulder. “Thanks for letting me spend the night in here last night.” He nodded, looking down at the floor.

“No problem,” He mumbled. Both of you could feel the words that were being left unsaid, the elephant in the room. Without looking at you, he could tell by the way you shifted your weight from your side that you were debating on whether to say anything or not. When he finally returned your gaze, you said nothing more, instead just giving him another soft smile before turning and walking off. As he closed the door shut, he could feel the ghost of your arms around his torso, and your chest pressed into his back.

But it takes someone to come around

To show you how

He couldn’t look at you anymore.

Every time he did, all he could think about was the feeling of your skin on his. Which made absolutely no sense to him. A full week had passed since the evening at the motel. How was he still able to remember the way your fingertips felt gripping his side and your breath against his neck so clearly? If he let himself think about it too much, he could convince himself that you were actually there, still holding him. Not that he did that ever. Nope. Never.

It had gotten to a point where he began to crave it, almost. Like it was a hunger that needed curbed. An itch that needed scratched. He had been held for the first time in decades, and now he needed more. But what was he going to do? Just ask you to cuddle him? Maybe you would if he had put effort into having a relationship with you before. But he didn’t. It was a one night thing that went undiscussed. What if you didn’t even remember it? What if you had pulled away in your sleep and never knew it had happened? Or what if you didn’t want it to? Maybe that’s why you were already gone in the morning when he woke. Too embarrassed to deal with the fact that you spent your night touching him.

So he did the only thing he knew how to. He avoided you. If you entered a room that he was in, he left. If he heard your voice nearby, he would flee. It was better than trying to deal with whatever feelings he had gained from that night. Avoiding you now was no different than how it was before, albeit a bit more extreme. But even if you noticed, he knew you weren’t the type to confront him.

But this evening, it was all too much. He hadn’t had a proper night sleep in days. In fact, if he really let himself think about it, which he tried really hard not to, he hadn’t gotten a proper sleep since the motel in Ohio. Every evening since, he felt himself tossing and turning more than usual.

Throwing his head up, he looked at the clock. A quarter passed one. He had been laying there for over two hours now, and he didn’t sleep for any part of it. The exhaustion was getting the better of him. He just wanted to fucking sleep.

Kicking the covers off him, he climbed out of bed and sulked out of the room. Maybe he’d be able to sleep after grabbing a bite to eat. It wasn’t that he was hungry, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. As he got closer to the kitchen, he could hear the television from the living room getting louder and louder. When he hit the doorway, he paused and leaned against the wall. You were tucked in the corner of the couch, your legs on the coffee table. Your body was facing Bucky, and even though you hadn’t seen him enter, he could see that you were wide awake.

“Can’t sleep?”

You didn’t jump when he said it, instead just simply looking over at him. He wasn’t surprised though. Your senses were enhanced, just like his, and you probably heard his footsteps before he even left his room. Using your feet to push you up slightly, you nodded. Despite the lack of proper lighting, he could see the bags under your eyes and the yawn you tried to hide.

“I don’t sleep much anyway,” You said, shrugging. Bucky nodded, understanding better than you knew. The two of you stared at each other in an awkward silence until Bucky looked down at the floor. He could feel it again. The tingling where your arms had held him like he was haunted by the memory on his skin. The yearning for it to happen again was all he could think about, and here you were, ready and able to oblige. But he wasn't about to ask. How pathetic would that sound? The last thing he needed was another person on the list of people who pitied him.

“Bucky, what’s wrong?” You asked, sitting up further. He shook his head, but found it suddenly difficult to speak. The room had no lights on, but the brightness of the TV on your face was enough to show your confused expression. “Bucky.” Your voice had a firmness to it this time. He sighed.

“Did you…” He trailed off, looking up at the ceiling for a moment before looking back at you. He couldn’t believe he was actually about to bring it up, and for a second he thought about stopping himself and leaving. But he didn’t. “Did you do it on purpose? At the motel?” The confused expression on your face didn’t change for a while, until finally your eyes widened, and then you buried your face in your hands.

“God, I’m sorry Bucky,” You sighed. “I was hoping that maybe you were asleep when it all happened and I had left before you could notice. I’m a huge cuddler when I sleep and I do it a lot without meaning to.” When you pulled your hands from your face, Bucky could see the apologetic look in your eyes. “I noticed you were keeping your distance, but I didn’t know it was because of that. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m so sorry.” He began to rapidly shake his head.

“No, no, it’s okay,” He said quickly, swallowing hard. “I just- uhm… I was gonna ask…maybe…” He huffed in annoyance. This is stupid, he told himself. More than likely you wouldn’t be down with it, especially since he just made you feel bad about the whole thing. He brought his hands to his mouth, his fingers anxiously pulling at his lips as he thought of the right words to say, but nothing was coming to him. The confusion was wiped from your face as your lips began to twitch upward.

Wordlessly, you lifted up your arms, your hands open and your fingers out towards him. He froze and it took him longer than it should’ve for him to realize what it was you were doing. For a second, he seriously considered refusing, but why would he do that? Suddenly he felt very warm. His steps towards you were small and slow as he gave himself a chance to back out. But he never did. Your eyes never left his as he sunk into the couch and crawled towards you. As you laid yourself down, he laid down on top of you, his head finding comfort on your chest. All tension in his body seemed to evaporate as you wrapped your arms around him. His feet were hanging over the arm of the couch, but it didn’t bother him.

“Comfy?” You whispered. He nodded. The warmth of your body against his was familiar and yet his heart was pounding as if it were the first time. It wasn’t until you began absently running your fingers through his hair with one hand and running drawing circles on his back with the other that he really began to lose it. His stomach was doing so many somersaults that he felt like he was going to throw up, but he swallowed it down. There was no way he was about to ruin this just because he was a bit starved of human contact and didn’t know how to handle it.

He shifted so he was more tucked into your side. For the first time, in what felt like a long time, his mind had gone quiet and his body was at ease. “Comfy” was an understatement. If there were a word in the English language to describe how he felt, he had yet to learn it. It wasn’t until a line on the TV caught his attention that he found a word that was pretty close.

“No sort of bliss better than being in the arms of the one you love.” His eyes jumped up at you, and he found that even though your fingers were still working through his hair and his skin, your eyes were closed. He smiled.

Maybe this wasn’t the love they were referencing on the TV. But they were right about one thing. There was no other sort of bliss.

She’s the tear in my heart

I’m alive

Bucky woke up in his bed alone. He didn’t know how you were able to sneak away without waking him, but somehow you always managed. Even without you there, he had stayed lying on his back. Maybe his subconscious had hoped you would return.

That night it had been your turn to be held. The day had been long and hard on you, and Bucky began to feel guilty for all you would do for him, but he never reciprocated, so this night he did all the holding. You had laid your head on his chest, tucked under his chin, with your hand resting on his upper torso, running your thumb gently up and down his bare skin. It was just as nice to hold you as it was being held by you, Bucky discovered.

The walk down the hall towards the kitchen as quicker than usual, and he felt himself grow disappointed when he walked in only to find Sam shoveling his way through a bowl of cereal. He tried to push that feeling away as he lowered his head and crossed the kitchen.

“‘Morning,” Sam said into his bowl. Bucky mumbled back a greeting as he opened the fridge and did a quick scan before pulling out a plum and shoving it in his mouth. He started to close it, before changing his mind and grabbing a yogurt. When he turned around, he found that Sam was watching him.

“What’s with you?” He asked as Bucky rounded the island and sat in the stool on the end. “You seem off.” Bucky shrugged as he took another bite of the plum. It was ripe, but not too hard. Just the way he liked it.

“Just woke up,” He said simply before realizing that he didn’t grab a spoon. It wasn’t until that moment that he realized how scatterbrained he was acting. He felt Sam’s eyes on him as he crossed the kitchen once more, opening the silverware drawer.

“Good morning, gentleman.”

Bucky didn’t have time to react to the sound of your voice before he felt a hand run across his back. A shockwave went up his spine at the feeling of it. By the time he had turned to face you, your hand had already left him, leaving a tingling sensation behind, and you were at the fridge pulling out a yogurt. You smiled at him when you turned in his direction, nodding towards the drawer he was standing in front of.

“Can I have a spoon, please?” You asked kindly. Absently, he handed you the one in his hand before turning and grabbing himself another one. He could feel Sam staring at the two of you, and while you didn’t seem to notice or mind, it made him feel quite embarrassed. He returned to the stool he had been sitting at before, while you stood between him and Sam.

“Is there anything going on today?” You asked before taking a bite of yogurt. Sam shrugged.

“All I know is I’m training with Natasha later and I’m gonna get my ass whooped,” He said begrudgingly. You laughed, leaning slightly and putting your hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“Good luck, my dude,” You said, clearly trying to sound supportive but it was hard when you were still laughing. Bucky didn’t notice right away that your eyes were on him because he was too busy staring at your hand, which was still on Sam’s shoulder. For whatever reason, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Just seeing it made him feel some type of way, but he couldn’t quite describe it.

“What about you, Bucky?” You asked him. The sound of his name coming from you broke him from his trance. When he locked eyes with you, a smile filled your cheeks. “What do you have going on today?” Bucky simply shook his head.

“I think I’m training with Parker later, but nothing other than that,” He said quietly, turning away and continuing to eat his yogurt. He didn’t know you had moved until he felt the familiar sensation of your fingers ruffling through his hair. Electricity shot up his spine once more at your touch, and was gone the second your hand pulled away.

“You have fun when Peter webs you to the ceiling,” You said, giggling as you left. Bucky fought the urge to turn and watch you go, keeping his eyes locked on the almost empty cup and the half eaten plum on the counter. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sam continuing to stare at him. He pretended not to notice.

“So what was that?” Sam asked, breaking the few moments of silence.

“What was what?” Bucky asked nonchalantly, but he tried not to cringe at the sound of his voice when he said it. If he could taste the bullshit, then he knew Sam would too.

“You had been keeping your distance from her since she joined the team and now all of a sudden she’s fucking with your hair and touching you? And you’re cool with it?” Sam said in a questioning tone. He dropped his spoon down into the bowl so he could cross his arms. “You expect me to believe this just magically happened?” Bucky huffed as he roughly scooped up another spoonful of yogurt and shoved it in his mouth.

“We’ve been… talking,” He mumbled. The rest of the team didn’t know what you and him were doing, and he wasn’t about to out himself. Especially to Sam, who he knew wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. Although, from the look on Sam’s face, it was clear he wasn’t buying it.

“Talking,” He said it more as a statement than a question. Bucky nodded.

“Is that okay, or did I need your permission?” He challenged Sam. The look on his friend’s face changed to surprise, and also slightly impressed. Without a word, Sam got up and took his bowl to the sink, dumping the last of the soggy cereal into the garbage disposal and giving the bowl a quick clean. While finishing up his small breakfast, Bucky kept his eyes on him. He knew that he had more to say. Sam just wasn’t the type to keep his feelings on things quiet. He turned back to Bucky, putting his hands on the corner of the counter and leaning on it slightly.

“I’m just glad you’re “talking” to someone, man,” He said, giving him a suggestive smile and walking towards the living room. When he walked passed, he gave Bucky a slight shove and dodged the swing Bucky threw at him. “It loosens you up!”

As Bucky listened to the sound of Sam’s footsteps fade away, he stared down at the counter and, although he couldn’t see it, the burning in his cheeks let him know he had turned a bright shade of red. He silently hoped that Sam didn’t notice. He didn’t need anything else to use against him.

She’s the tear in my heart

I’m on fire

When are you getting home?

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at the sight of your text message. The roar of the Quinjet engines were loud in his ear as it began to descend over New York City, but he didn’t notice as he typed his reply.

Almost there.

The city in the nighttime was already a sight, but seeing it overhead was both exhilarating and breathtaking. Little star like balls of light covered the buildings and streets, the traffic looking like beetles from the height. It was really the only part Bucky liked about going on missions, was seeing the big city he called home in the beauty it was at a distance, although his favorite time of day to view it would be at dawn or dusk, when the orange and pink skies added to the already beautiful sight.

His phone buzzed in his hand, and for a second, he continued to look outside and pretended he wasn’t in any rush, despite his heart which skipped a beat as soon as he saw your name on the screen.

I’m already in bed dozing off. If I pass out before you get here I’ll see you in the morning!!!

He felt himself grow disappointed. It wasn’t your fault. The whole reason you had missed this mission was because you had been sick, but he couldn’t help it. The entire time he was gone, Bucky would check his phone even when he knew it didn’t go off, or look around for you because he constantly would forget that you weren’t there. He didn’t understand why he was acting this way, or how to make it stop. No one else seemed to notice his distractions, and if they did, they didn’t point it out.

As the Quinjet began lowering down towards Stark Tower, Bucky could feel the butterflies in his tummy growing restless. He was completely unaware of the dopey smile on his face at the sight of the building until he looked over and saw Steve giving him a strange look.

“What are you so excited about?” Steve asked him. His shoulders rose and fell, but the smile didn’t drop in the slightest.

“Just can’t wait to sleep in my own bed,” He said. It wasn’t convincing, and he knew when Steve looked out the window with a knowing smile on his face and only humming in response that he didn’t believe him.

The second the Quinjet touched down on the helipad, Bucky had to refrain from jumping out of his seat. The knuckles on his right hand were white as he gripped the arm rest impatiently, his eyes on the back of Stark’s head. He never understood why the time between landing and the door opening was so long. But maybe it only felt so much longer this time because he was waiting for it.

Once the door had opened, Bucky stood as nonchalantly as possible, grabbing his bag from the overhead been and making his way out of the jet. Every step he made was calculated as he tried not to appear rushed or anxious. Although everyone was so tired, they probably wouldn’t have even noticed. The walk through the tower towards his room seemed like it was never ending. The hallway seemed to grow narrower. Did the place get bigger in his absence?

His eyes stared down your door long before he had even reached his own. He debated in his mind whether to peek in on you or let you be. A half hour had passed since your last text, which probably meant that you were more than likely long asleep. He turned the knob to his room and let himself in, setting his bag down at the end of the bed. Slowly, he stripped down and changed into sweats and a crew neck. He considered just crawling into bed and seeing you in the morning, but the rest of him had other plans as his legs seemed to mindlessly carry him out of the room.

The door to your room didn’t creak as he unhurriedly pushed it open, and he was grateful. Resting on top of your blankets, you were snuggling up against your pillow, your phone still in your hand as if you fell asleep mid-text. Crawling into your bed, Bucky held his breath as he carefully positioned himself over you, slowly lowering himself down so he was now lying on you with his head between your shoulder blades. You let out a staggered breath and lifted your head slightly, glancing back at him before letting your head fall back onto the pillow.

“So much for seeing you in the morning, huh?” You asked in a groggy voice. Though your voice was playful, that didn’t stop the anxiety that rose in Bucky’s chest. Should he have left you alone and waited until morning? Just as he went to lift his head, he felt the tips of your fingers find his head, softly kneading his his hair. Nothing could hold back his smile as he relaxed.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, raising his head and lightly resting his chin on your spine. He felt you sigh under him.

“Much better,” You breathed. “M’pretty sure I slept most of the time you were gone.”

“So I didn’t miss much?” He asked, you shaking your head.

“Not a damn thing,” You reassured him. He nodded, his chin running up and down your back. All he felt was relief. The last thing he wanted was to miss out on something important with you. “How was the assignment?” He groaned, his head falling to its side so he was laying it down once more.

“Too long,” He said simply. That was the closest he wanted to get to admitting it was too long to go without you.

With being away from you for a full week, it gave him a lot of time to consider what exactly was happening between the two of you. While he couldn’t figure out what you were feeling, he knew that his feelings for you were way beyond platonic at this point, no matter how hard he tried to deny them or ignore them. For a while he had been convinced that he was so starved of human contact for so long that once he had it, he wanted more and it just was masked as romantic feelings towards you. And maybe at first, that was the case. But now he didn’t want it from anyone else. He just wanted it from you.

“I missed you while you were gone,” You mumbled after a while, it so quiet that Bucky almost thought he imagined it. He rolled his head over so he was burying his face into your shirt, his face so hot and smiley that he couldn’t take it. The room felt hot despite the air conditioning being on, but he knew that it was just him.

“I guess I missed you too,” He said quietly. He felt you laugh against him, his heart skipping a beat.

“Alright, asshole, you’re squashing me,” You whined, squirming as best as you could underneath his weight. “Can we change positions now so that I can breathe?”

My heart

Is my armor

“Fuck, I’m so tired,” You said through a yawn. Bucky looked up at you from his phone, eyebrows raised.

“Plenty of time to sleep,” He reminded you. “We’re not going to be home for another four hours. I think.” He knew for sure it was four hours, but he made himself sound uncertain to lessen the blow. From the sound of your groan, it didn’t appear to work.

“I can’t sleep on planes,” You whined. He grimaced, remembering that you had indeed told him that before.

“Sorry,” He mumbled, although it came out so quiet that he was almost certain you didn’t hear it.

“Wish I could teleport or some shit,” You grumbled. “I’d have been home and in my bed as soon as the mission was over.” He chuckled.

“Only if you’d take me with you,” He remarked, looking back down at his phone.

“Well, of course,” You retorted, sounding offended that he would even suggest that you wouldn’t.

The jet was quiet, with Sam in the cockpit and Steve and Natasha already passed out in various seats. Bucky had originally sat down by himself, but was quite pleased when you took the seat next to him. Out the window, the sky was dark but whatever city they were flying over was beaming with light, almost making up for the fact that he couldn’t see any stars. He was so lost in the sight that he didn’t notice you peering over his shoulder.

“Why are you reading that?” You asked, a serious tone in your voice. His eyes jumped down to his phone to the news article he had opened with the headline: Public Questions Winter Soldier’s Place In Avengers. When he looked back at you, he noticed the sadness in your eyes. “Why do you give into them?” He continued to stare at his phone, his mind running blank on how to respond.

The article made some valid points, as most of them did. At one time, he was viewed as a public threat. The public still very much believed that he was responsible for the death of the former King of Wakanda, no matter how many times the Avengers disputed it. Once they had a view on something, it was almost impossible to change their mind. And despite Shuri removing all traces of HYDRA’s ability to control him ever again, that didn’t stop him from worrying that somehow they’d find a way to control him again. With everything that had happened to him over the course of his life, it was impractical for him to find anything unfeasible.

As hard as he tried not to read the negative things said about him, it was almost impossible for him. Sometimes he did it when things went wrong and he felt he needed to be put in check, like this time when civilians got hurt because of a careless mistake. But other times, when he’s feeling really low, he’ll read them to confirm to himself that he’s as terrible as he believes he is.

The next thing he knew, you were taking his phone and closing out of the article. He didn’t even bother trying to take it from you before you shoved it into his jacket pocket and took his hands into yours. It wasn’t until you had turned in your seat so you were facing him that he knew you were serious.

“Listen to me very carefully,” You told him, eyes locked on his. “You are not what they say you are. You are not who you were in the past. You are a strong, amazing person and you deserve better and more than this.” He didn’t know what to say; he never did when someone complimented him. And he could see the genuinity in your eyes, although he always could. You were always trying to tell him that the way he viewed himself was wrong, to the point where sometimes he felt himself believing it. Tilting his head, he wordlessly slipped his fingers in the spaces between your own. A wordless thank you. Giving him a soft smile, you turned back in your seat. He thought that was going to be the end of it, until you leaned your head down and laid it on his shoulder. Suddenly, he was as still as a statue, afraid to move in fear that you would pull away from him.

“Comfy?” He asked. You nodded against him. He pulled out his phone, opting to read a book he had downloaded a few days prior. It was the only thing he could do one handed, with his other hand still occupied with yours. A mere fifteen minutes had past when all he could hear were your quiet snores, and he smiled softly to himself as he read, leaning his head to the side so it was against the top of yours. Mindlessly, he drew circles on the skin of your outer hand with his thumb. It wasn’t much, yet somehow it was everything.

She’s the tear in my heart

She’s a carver

The floor vibrated slightly under Bucky’s bouncing knee. He stared at his phone, which was resting on the table in front of him, with his hands covering his mouth. The sound of Steve’s words were echoing through his mind.

The jet was attacked and we lost contact.

The silence was overbearing. But any noise that came from anywhere except for Bucky’s phone just made him angry. He needed to hear from you. A phone call. A text. He’d settle for a letter via carrier pigeon for fuck’s sake. Sure, he was concerned about Tony, Rhodey and Wanda as well. But he’d be lying if he said his worry for them was the same as it was for you.

“They’re gonna be fine,” Sam’s voice came up from behind the couch, making Bucky jump. As he took a seat on the left end of the couch, Bucky didn’t take his eyes off his phone.

“I should’ve been there,” He said firmly. Although he was angry, at the interruption of his thoughts as well as the whole situation, his voice was shaky. Small.

“And what would you have done?” Sam asked in a demanding tone. “It was three HYDRA planes going after them. What could you possibly have done?” Bucky bit his lip. He knew how stupid he sounded. But he wasn’t about to admit that at least if you were dead, he would’ve gone with you. Or maybe he could’ve made sure the plane landed safely. He’d survived free falling from the sky before, he was positive he could do it again.

Sam scooted closer to him. “They’re going to be fine.” He said it slowly, carefully enunciating each word. Bucky finally looked up at him.

“How would we know?” He asked.

“Because they’re all soldiers,” Sam told him. “They’ve fought and won before. And they’ll do it again.” When Bucky didn’t answer, Sam leaned forward and hesitantly put his hand on his shoulder. Bucky flinched hard, but didn’t pull away like he once would’ve. “She’s gonna be fine.” Just then, Steve rushed in. The color he had lost when he had spoken to Bucky earlier had returned to his face.

“They’re here,” He said through short, rapid breaths, making it clear he had been running. “They’re here and they’re fine.”

Bucky wasted no time before jumping off the couch and racing out of the room. The hallway seemed to have grown longer as he made his way towards the stairs, foregoing the elevator. As he made his way up, he heard footsteps bounding down the stairs towards him. He rounded a corner to find you coming down the stairs, making him stop dead in his tracks.

The sound of your name floated through the air, and it took him longer than it should’ve for him to realize that he said it out loud. The only response you gave was all but launching yourself at him from the last step, crashing into him and sending him staggering back into the wall. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, one under your bottom to hold your legs up and the other around the middle of your back. It wasn’t until he steadied himself that he could feel you shaking, causing his heart to shatter in his chest.

“You’re fine,” He whispered in your ear. His hand went up to the back of your head, his thumb stroking your hair. “Everything is fine.”

“I love you.”

It was so sudden that Bucky wasn’t in the least bit prepared. Every single muscle in his entire body froze. Slowly, you pulled yourself away from him, looking right into his big blues. He noted the paleness in your skin, and the slight trembling of your lip. His mouth was hanging open slightly as he waited for you to speak again.

“I thought I was gonna die,” You started. The tone in your voice was one Bucky had never heard before. “And the only thing I could think about was that I never told you that. And I hated myself for it.” You lifted your hand, gesturing between yourself and him. “Whatever this is going on between us stopped being platonic for me a while ago. And I feel like you feel the same.”

Bombs were dropping in Bucky’s stomach, sending him into overload. It was too much. It was all too much. The fear of you dying. Having you back in his arms after being gone for two weeks. The relief of you not being dead or harmed. And now… now you love him. And he felt the same. You fidgeted in his hold.

“This is the part where you say something,” You said nervously. “Anything really.” But he didn’t. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed you. It was hesitant, nervous. But then you snaked your fingers through his hair and pulled him closer, and it turned passionate and loving. Bucky’s entire body was exploding, his brain somehow loud and quiet at the same time. When you pulled away, Bucky noticed you weren’t shaking anymore. With his free hand, he ran his fingers up and down your spine.

“I love you too.” It was so quiet that if you didn’t see him say it, you wouldn’t have ever known that it was from Bucky. Who knew someone so big, hard and closed off could be so tender? He swallowed hard before his eyes jumped up to you again. “Was that okay?” He asked softly. He wasn’t sure why he was so anxious. You laughed loudly, leaning your forehead against his.

“Only if that’s not the last one.”

She’s a butcher with a smile

Cut me farther

He was waiting for the signal.

It was something the two of you had discussed before the party. Tony forced the two of you to go, and also gave a reminder that while it was for Steve’s birthday, it was still a function and that you couldn’t only talk to Bucky all night. Which, of course, was something neither of you liked because if Bucky had his choice, he would be sitting on a chair in the corner with you on his lap and his arms around you, people watching all night. Why would he want to talk to a bunch of strangers? He didn’t know, but he only received a glare from Tony when he dared to ask.

The air smelled of cigarettes and alcohol, with a twinge of cologne. As most of Stark’s parties did. The room was a gradient of red white and blue, fitting the black tie theme. Despite that, Bucky still wore a black tuxedo. He had hoped that it would make him not stand out, but all it did was make him pop even more. Like a sore thumb.

You were across the room at the bar, being talked up by a handsome stranger. Bucky wasn’t worried. He could tell by the look on your face and the way you wouldn’t face the man fully that you were bored with whatever he had to say. He didn’t blame the poor sap for trying. You looked radiant in your floor length red gown. He didn’t have to be in love with you to see you were the most beautiful person in the room. It wasn’t him seeing things in rose colored lenses, it was him not being blind.

“That doesn’t bother you?” Sam asked, taking a sip of the gin and tonic in his hand. He donned an all white tux, and had gotten the phone numbers of at least three girls. Bucky turned his body towards him while keeping his eyes on you. Sam nudged him with his elbow, but Bucky pretended not to notice. “Even in the least bit? He’s been talking to her for twenty minutes now.” Bucky shrugged.

“Nope,” He said simply before taking a swig of the glass of whiskey. He couldn’t get drunk, but the taste sometimes brought him back to times when he could. “She’ll let me know when it gets to be too much.”

“How will she do that?” Sam asked, sounding more curious than taunting. Just then, as if on cue, you looked over at Bucky with wide eyes and an even wider smile. He could just barely make out the stranger’s hand on your thigh. He nodded towards Sam.

“That’s how,” He said nonchalantly, shrugging and throwing back the glass until it was empty and leaving it on the table. Carefully slipping between the crowd of people while avoiding socialization, Bucky made his way towards you. Not once did your eyes leave him as he did so, somehow going unnoticed by the man at your side. His stride slowed as he got closer, his eyes on the back of the man’s head, whose hand was still on your thigh.

“Excuse me, pal,” He said, standing close enough so he was almost in between you and the man. A smile spread across his face as he held his hand out for you. “Care for a dance, doll?” Without taking your eyes off him, you handed your drink to the stranger and took Bucky’s hand.

“Thank you,” You sighed. “He was just babbling about how cool my powers were and it was all fun and games until he asked if I could enhance men in the bedroom.” You visibly cringed. Bucky was laughing when the two of you got to the dance floor. The music playing was the ending of a fast paced song, and the the dance floor began to empty out as people, laughing and panting were heading back to their seats as it switched to a slow song. The trumpets at the beginning sounded familiar, and Bucky waited for you to catch on. It didn’t take long before you smiled up at him.

“Candy by John Mercer…” You said slowly. “Someone influenced the playlist.” He shrugged.

“I may have had a word with the DJ about playing it at some point,” He said, making you shake your head.

“You’re such an old man,” You said, although he could hear the loving tone in your voice. Suddenly, a thought derailed him and his laughter disappeared, turning towards you as you took his hand in yours and began to sway with him to the beat of the music.

“Wait, have you been enhancing me in bed?” He whispered in a panic. You opened your mouth to answer, but someone cleared their throat behind Bucky. The two of you turned to see Tony standing there, bright blue tuxedo with his arms behind his back and his eyebrows raised. You tilted your head innocently.

“Come on, Tony,” You said, your head falling against Bucky’s shoulder as he wrapped his arm around your waist. “We’ve been good, and talking to other people all night. What’s the harm in one dance?” He stared between the two of you, obvious annoyance in his face, before letting out a sigh.

“I was just coming over here to remind you that we’re leaving tomorrow for Lithuania tomorrow,” He said, eyeing the two of you. “So try to keep all hangovers to a minimum please. It’s a long flight and no one wants to deal with that.” He gave them both a final once over before smirking and walking away. The way he shook his head as he disappeared in the crowd made you laugh.

“Long flights mean hotels after the mission,” You said in a sing, songy voice, turning back to Bucky and your slow dance. He chuckled.

“Just don’t forget your key card to your room this time,” He teased. You made a face at him before huffing.

“First of all, that was almost two years ago. Second of all, we’re a couple. Tony’s going to get us the same room. Third of all,” You paused, furrowing your eyebrows and tilting your head. “Did I never tell you?” He mirrored your look.

“Tell me what?” He asked. Your hand left his shoulder as you covered your face, laughing.

“I left my key in my room on purpose that night,” You said, peeking through your fingers at him in embarrassment. “It was an impulse decision and by the time I wanted to back out, the door was already closed and locked.” Bucky was laughing at this point, and tried to pull your hand from your face, but then you just pressed it against his shoulder.

“Why did you do that?” He said between laughs. Your body shook with laughter as you stood up straight again, looking around at the crowd.

“Because I liked you and you wouldn’t talk to me,” You said, finally looking at him and shrugging. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

He didn’t know it possible, but in that moment, Bucky loved you more than he ever had. The way the light made your face glow. The red of the dress complimenting your eyes. How full your cheeks were with your smile. But most importantly, feeling you against him, with the tips of your fingers gently digging into his back, was what really did him in every time. He no longer craved your touch. He didn’t have to. Anytime he needed you, he would just have to roll over in bed and pull you close, or grab your hand from your spot next to him. You were never far away, and he needn’t ever worry.

Leaning in so your lips were to his ear, Bucky felt a rise in his chest.

“Also, no I’ve never enhanced you in bed,” You assured him. He felt the anxiety deflate from his chest. When you were facing him once more, you had a devilish grin on your face. “But that’s quite an idea, isn’t it? We should definitely try that.” He could feel his blood start to rush.

“Maybe tomorrow night in the hotel?” He offered. You pouted your lips in dissatisfaction as you began to play with his tie.

“Would be such a shame if we had to wait,” You said in a low voice, peering up at him through your eyelashes. “Do you think anyone would notice if we left for a little bit?” You had just barely finished your sentence when he began dragging you towards the elevators.

“I actually think we’re calling it a night,” He said, picking up his pace as you ran to catch up. Your laugh echoed down the hallways as the two of you got to the elevator. The doors hadn’t even opened yet but that didn’t stop him from having his hands all over you, his lips on your neck. When the doors opened, he lead you inside, suddenly pulling away from you.

“Is this how you imagined it would go? When you came into my hotel room that night?” He asked you, randomly. “Did you think we’d become all of this?” You didn’t hesitate for a second before shaking your head.

“I really thought I’d only get up to trying to cuddle you and then you’d kick me out,” You said, your grip on his upper arms growing tighter. The smile you gave him filled him with warmth. “This was so much better than I ever could’ve imagined.”

And he agreed.

Than I’ve ever been

____________________________

Tags

ALL THE THINGS

@pizzarollpatrol, @of-outerspace, @fallenaristocat, @gracefulish, @jamesbvck, @buckysbeech, @dontpanc, @lovinglokiforever, @kingsebstan, @kaaatniss, @meg-holland, @rvmanova, @fracturedmotivationwriting, @daringbanshee, @wantyoubackpeter, @parkerstan, @jnej, @rogrsnbarnes, @starlightfound, @loislp, @connorshero, @fanadict-cumberbatch, @for-laufeyson-without-question, @humanexile, @slytherin-in-hufflepuff-robes, @thepandadrawer, @wintrsoldiers, @spideyspirit, @c-ly-g

BUCKY

@bucky-slut, @stanclub, @tirzahwrites, @whitewolfbabylon, @drunkonpinklemonade, @littlemissexistential-xxiv, @rnjolnirs, @crazyinspiration, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @the-right-partner13, @rebelfleur22, @valkyriesbi, @jitterbuck

[poketin]

What a Difference a Day Makes - Golden Lovers

A Golden Lovers fic inspired by the first half of Chungking Express, an absolutely beautiful film. I hope I managed to get across some of that beauty with the most beautiful tag team in the world. Fic title inspired by the song "What a Diff'rence a Day Made," played in the film.

read also on ao3!

Kenny sat at the bar, nursing his sad drink, trapped in his sad head. The last vestiges of his dream were swirling at the bottom of his glass, so far out of reach. He trailed his pinkie in the dregs of his green tea. Was it his fifth double tonight? There was a small collection of drained shot glasses around him, but the bartender could have easily shuffled them around. His heart guessed it was an action of sympathy, to help him look less like he’d been here for over an hour and a half, clearly alone. Pathetic. His brain bombarded him with cynical alternatives. You’re taking up too much space. He needs those glasses for the other customers. You’re woozy enough to accidentally knock them all off the counter and you don’t look like someone who could afford to pay the bar back for the damages. He hadn’t drunk any alcohol, but his head swam all the same.

He rested his chin on the bar, sighing through his nose, watching as the glasses fogged up in front of him. Tired. Clouded. Dominating. It was a pretty good image of his life, all things considered. Especially recently.

Last year he’d been invited to shows all over his home country. Sure, they’d been seedy bars clouded by cheap cigarettes and oppressive perfumes and colognes making his nose itch and his eyes water. On top of it all, the pay was crummy, barely enough to cover his travel expenses. The food he’d survived on during that time had been unspeakably cheap and horrifyingly bland.

But none of that had mattered when he wrestled, he only cared about doing it and doing it well.

He’d had difficulties, met naysayers and sneering so-called “wrestling authorities” that told him he would never make it, that he was too naïve, too optimistic, not interesting enough, not strong enough, not big enough.

He was never enough.

But eventually, he’d been noticed. Over the last few months, a small Japanese wrestling promotion had wanted him to appear in a couple of their shows, even covering his travel costs and letting him stay in a shabby apartment. They were even gonna pay him a little! His dream was being realized before his very eyes. He’d studied the language as hard as he could in that short time, murmuring phrases to himself as he packed his gear, a coat, his important nerdy shirts, one slightly wrinkled button up, a couple pairs of pants, and his old Game Boy. The frigid morning he had hopped on the plane had been one of the best days of his life, and he couldn’t wait to have many more of those in Japan, chasing his dream, doing his best.

But he had arrived almost two months ago. And nothing had happened yet.

After the first month had passed, his hopes had diminished slightly. He’d talked a bit with some representatives of the company when he’d arrived, but after that…He hadn’t wanted to goof off too much in case the company called his apartment and he wasn’t there, deciding he wasn’t serious enough about this and sending him home. He didn’t have much money outside his food (and souvenir) budget to go places anyway. Nor anyone to go with him.

He’d barreled forward without considering how lonely this would all be.

He had messaged friends online, needing contact, a voice of some kind to bring warmth to his silent apartment. But they were always already in bed or taking care of their kids or having a date night with their loved ones. And so he spent the days cleaning his apartment, practicing his Japanese, flipping through weird game shows that he thoroughly enjoyed, and hovering around the phone, waiting. When it got late enough for him to figure they wouldn’t be calling him that day, he’d go wandering around the streets, looking through shop windows, smiling at people even as they crossed the street to avoid him, and taking pictures of any cats he could find.

It was slow going, and, once this first month was nearly over, his spirits falling, he’d decided to buy one can of pineapple every day from the nearby convenience store, each one sharing the same expiration date: the end of the next month. He decided that he’d eat them all at the end of the month, and then…well. He didn’t exactly know. He wanted to push it all from his mind. He needed some kind of goal, something he could hold in his hands and accomplish himself.

The days went by, until he was stacking the 30th can of pineapple on top of the small pile in one of the empty corners of his apartment. He was almost excited, in a way.

And so, just after midnight tonight, his vow only half-way completed, he had cracked open every single one of the thirty cans, and had eaten them. He couldn’t tell if the pit in his stomach was because of his anxious thoughts, or because the pineapple had technically been expired as he ate it, and there had been a lot of it.

He looked out the window and decided two months with nearly no words exchanged with someone other than himself was not what he wanted to end the month on. He threw on his coat and pushed out of his apartment, leaving himself in the night’s care, where it welcomed him in its glittering streetlights and various sounds of late night entertainment.

Kenny passed by bright restaurants, full of smiles and laughter, clubs where neon lights and pulsing music streamed from under heavy black doors, and a handful of arcades that he foolishly searched for a glowing neon sign, or any sign of life at this late hour.

Finally, he stopped at a bar, tucked away into the shadows.

The door was scuffed and scarred, quiet even in the warm orange light that escaped through a small square pane of clouded glass embedded near the top. He breathed in the cigarette smoke that trickled from the gap under the door, the clinking of glasses like a muted gunshot in the darkness.

The shabbiness of it was familiar. Just what he needed.

He pushed open the door and was greeted by a blast of warm air, and the lights of a jukebox. There were a few couples here and there, a group or two sitting at tables and chatting, beers in hand, declaring a toast and then forgetting about it a minute later as they laughed together.

He had sat at the bar, shying away from the long benches and large tables and the people occupying them, and had asked for the non-alcoholic options, of which there was only green tea, and had been served in the only glasses available for the non-drinker at this place: shot glasses.

“If I make it a double, it’s just like a normal glass.”

It wasn’t, but he didn’t push the bartender. Despite Kenny ordering mostly in Japanese, the bartender had spoken nothing but English to him. He felt the enormous time and focus he’d put into Japanese drain out of him.

Another failure.

He couldn’t blame the guy, he was barely coherent in English to many let alone a language he only had a few months of practice in, but his effort crumpled in him, feeling like a waste of time anyway. He still wasn’t enough. He chewed on the ice that had been in the bottom of his glass and had remained in moping silence for nearly two hours. Possibly longer.

Where was the connection his heart was hurting for?

Just coming here wasn’t enough. He wasn’t grabbing any sort of destiny, nor taking control of his dreams…or anything. The only thing he’d been grabbing was another glass of watered down tea, the only semblance of control ordering another drink and choosing which lonely corner or flickering light to stare into. He let his head thump against the counter. He couldn’t go on like this.

Kenny bit his lip and decided.

He was going to fall in love with the first person who walked through that door.

His brain helpfully reminded him that this many failures in one night had basically crushed him, and how another was sure to snuff him out completely. He told his brain to shut up, downing the last of his tea and feeling like there was nothing else to lose. He picked his head up and looked towards the entrance he came in from.

Just in time.

A light caught his eye. A glint off a shiny surface, as a person stepped into the door frame.

He was wearing sunglasses. Indoors. At night. His dark hair fell a bit past his ears, a huge coat dominating his tall frame, his broad shoulders.

Hiding from someone? Something? The whole world, maybe?

His shoes were bright orange. Not exactly subtle.

Kenny couldn’t help feeling excited, tapping at his glass with a fingernail. He could relate to it all.

He saw the shrouded stranger slide into one of the closest booths, the bartender already on his way with a shot glass and a bottle of whiskey. He tended to his drink, swirling it as he stared into the same emptiness that Kenny had occupied for hours.

Kenny thought of the expiration dates on the cans, and was standing before he knew it. He slid onto the bench next to the stranger.

"How's it going?"

Kenny could have kicked himself for the English that sputtered out. The stranger made no move to reply.

"How has the night been treating you?"

His Japanese was shaky, but hopefully still semi-coherent even after this long night. Still, the stranger sat still.

"Erm...Can I get you a drink?"

He pulled at any French memories that could grace his tongue for this moment of reaching out. He found himself grasping at empty air. This wasn’t going well. It wasn’t going bad either. It just…wasn’t going.

"Uh..."

"Your Japanese isn't bad."

The stranger was smiling now, still turned directly to the table but tilting his glass in Kenny's direction.

"Thank you...?"

No name provided.

“I’m Kenny.”

Still no name. The stranger offered something else.

“Sorry, I’m not much of a talker. Not usually at least.” His shoulders drooped by about a millimeter. Kenny felt his heart drop in turn, and tried a different approach.

“That’s alright, we don’t have to talk.”

But Kenny himself wasn’t much of a non-talker, so only a few beats later, after tapping his foot and trying to memorize 3 seconds of the smooth song playing from the jukebox, he blurted something out again.

“What’s with your outfit?”

Mystery man was facing him now, his eyes wide behind his sunglasses (if his raised eyebrows were any indication).

“What do you mean?”

“Well there’s only a couple reasons that someone would be wearing sunglasses indoors, and at night for that matter.” Kenny counted off his fingers.

“One, you’re blind.”

The stranger sipped at his drink. Kenny continued.

“Two, you want to hide from somebody, maybe no one in particular. Just somebody. Sunglasses are good for hiding faces…especially tears. You don’t want to stand out. Ironic, considering sunglasses indoors, at night (he really wanted to stress this) really sticks out.”

The smile was still there but there was something missing. Kenny had an idea.

“Or…number three. You just want to look really cool all the time.” He winked. “Well, let me tell you. It’s working. Really.”

His companion actually laughed at that, and turned to face him. Kenny felt himself grinning in response.

“That one is probably closest.”

His teeth were so shiny, his lips so pretty. Kenny saw himself reflected in the man’s sunglasses, red-faced and smiling and oh-so-eager. Maybe it was better to call it a night, he told himself. Better not to push everything that was Kenny Omega onto a total stranger after only meeting him a few minutes ago. He’d never actually fallen in love in one night before, but…there was something he felt with this guy. Something he’d never felt before, something he couldn’t even name exactly.

And somehow, he knew the stranger felt it too.

Their hearts beat as one, feeling like the oldest and closest friends despite Kenny not even knowing his name. He knew more about the guy’s lips and perfect cheekbones than his actual personality, his dreams and dislikes, his favorite food, what he does for a living, his hobbies. And still, when Kenny accidentally brushed the stranger’s finger with his own, reaching over to wave the bartender over, he swear he could feel it from the guy’s point of view, as well as his own.

He was well and truly connected to this man by the strange inclinations of love.

Kenny cleared his throat, and ordered another tea, as well as another of whatever the man next to him was currently sipping. He knew his Japanese was getting sloppier as the night went on, but he had never wanted to talk more in his entire life. He tried to pull up memories of a terrible Japanese joke book he’d studied the first couple days in Japan, even as he was already saying something.

“So…do you like pineapple?”

And as the night went on and on, their smiles turned to laughter turned to Kenny gesturing wildly about the crazy backflip he���d seen a guy do at the airport, “On an escalator too! It was amazing, let me tell you—"

And among the stories and jokes and whispered secrets about how this guy loved fireworks and had stashes of them in various places, how he ate cheese at every meal (“My doctor is not happy with me.” He was smiling as Kenny wheezed with helpless laughter), how he had tried over and over again to read the same novel for almost 15 years and had hated every attempt, the book worming pictures and authorial intent into his mind without permission, Kenny managed to pour his heart out.

Kenny actually managed to relate to this man, this stranger, his fears and woes that had swirled in his head over the past couple months. His loneliness and isolation because of time zones and outside responsibilities, his hope at a wrestling company finally wanting him and his hurt when all he had found was silence. Even something he’d never told anyone: a bit of his dreams. What he thought wrestling could be, and how he wanted it to be appreciated as the beautiful, exciting, emotional art that it was. How he wanted to change the world.

These feelings had been trapped, buried, with nowhere to go. Kenny showed a crack of vulnerability, and they came rushing towards that outlet, spilling out of his mouth at the slightest inquiring tilt of the man’s head and wry smile at his every other word.

Breathing heavily, Kenny apologized to the stranger he’d no doubt bored to tears with his ramblings. He simply motioned for Kenny to continue, that same mysterious smile on his lips, resting his head on his hand and absorbing every word.

At one point, the stranger’s head dropped closer and closer to Kenny’s shoulder, resting on it just as the bartender shook Kenny out of his own stupor to tell him the bar was closing.

Kenny groaned and made to stand up, but the man resting on him grabbed at his shirt, mumbling.

“Just take me somewhere we can rest, mhm?”

Kenny’s heart pounded. He paid for their drinks, and supported most of the dozing stranger’s weight onto his shoulder as he carried him out of the bar and into a waiting taxi (the bartender waved off Kenny’s sincerest thanks and apologies). He directed the taxi to the nearest hotel and hoped he had enough money for a room after all their drinking.

“Ah. You really meant resting, then.”

As soon as Kenny had gotten a room and deposited the stranger onto the huge mattress with plush sheets, he had immediately fallen asleep. He had done it so smoothly and serenely that Kenny had put his ear to the guy’s chest to make sure he hadn’t died somehow. He brushed a few strands of soft hair on the man’s forehead, trying to tuck them behind his ear, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Phew. No way we were doing that with how much he drank tonight. Plus, I think such emotional whiplash would have killed me.”

He chuckled to himself, plopping into an armchair next to the bed which the stranger was starfished on top of, and picked up the phone to call room service. He paused as he heard a shuffle of blankets next to him.

“Kenny…”

Kenny faced the bed again. The man hadn’t seemed to move, and his breathing remained steady. He seemed ready to fall back asleep at any moment.

“What do you when you’re sad?”

Kenny swallowed.

“Me? I guess…I run. Or walk. Or jog.”

His response was quiet breathing and sunglasses still obscuring the love of his life. Sleep had claimed him once more.

Kenny stared. Then he turned towards the small, box television sitting on the ledge in front of the window and flicked it on, settling back into the armchair and dialing room service once more.

He ordered two helpings of Chef’s salad, intrigued at the weird mash-up of ingredients and the fact this combination existed in Japan or at all for that matter, and ate both of them when he realized he’d already gotten through two movies he only half-way understood and his companion was still flopped in peaceful slumber.

All his trash went into the room’s trash bag, which he tied up and left outside the door. As he made his way back inside, he noticed a flash of orange among the plush, tangled sheets of the bed.

The guy was still wearing his blinding orange shoes.

Kenny remembered his mom saying something about feet swelling when someone slept in high heels, and assumed the principle still applied to most other shoes. He carefully unlaced the shoes, and slipped them off. Noticing a few faint dirt patches along the sides, Kenny brought the shoes to their room’s bathroom, and, wetting the end of his shirt in the sink, proceeded to scrub and shine every part of the shoes.

He seems the type to hate messing up his shoes. They should shine as bright as he does.

A smile quirked at his lips.

After some time of this, when he was satisfied they were extra shiny, Kenny stood up and, cracking his back, made his way to the lace curtains covering their room’s enormous window. He pulled back a bit of the curtains, peeking into the outside world. Blanketing the sweeping view of the city was the faint blue light that blanketed the world just before sunrise.

He headed out.

Kenny agonized over writing down and leaving his phone number, so when he left the room and made his way down to the lobby, he gave the receptionist his number and asked that if a sleepy man from room 702 inquired after him, that they’d give it to him. He stepped into the frozen morning and tried not to look back at huge windows and closed curtains.

His feet pounded the grass as rain fell around him, head tilted upwards, letting the rain pepper his skin. He’d lost count of how many times he’d run in this park near his apartment.

Even after being up all night, he didn’t feel tired. He didn’t feel anything beyond the splash of raindrops.

But he still jumped nearly a foot into the air when his phone rang shrilly in the quiet morning, almost buzzing out of his jacket pocket. Kenny flipped open his jangling phone, putting it to his ear.

“Who…?”

“Check your messages, okay?”

The man from last night….

“What—”

He heard a click.

He had bothered to call him after all that…but what could he possibly mean?

Unless…?

He felt a jolt run down his spine, rushing to grab his coat from the bench he’d left it on, throwing it on and ignoring how soaked it was and how extra soaked he himself now was as he ran from the park, ran from the rain.

He sprinted up the stairs to his apartment, two at a time, three at a time once he got to the top, nearly tripping and slamming right into his door. His hands were shaking, dropping his keys twice before he could finally wrench the door open. He saw the flashing light on the answering machine, and dove towards it. He swear he could feel someone laughing from somewhere.

He pressed play.