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mintyoongiskookie · 7 years ago

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A Waltz with the Constellations

Member: Park Jimin (Ft. Jungkook as a friend)

Genre: Fluff, angst, Ballroom Dance Teacher!Jimin

Word Count: 4,470

A/N: why tf am I not doing the ones I said I would and this is long overdue you have every right to hate me I thought of this one day and holy shit I thought it would be so damn beautiful and he would be so graceful and I can’t T~T. I also feel like this one isn’t any good soooo... Hopefully everyone likes it!

“(Y/N), get your lazy ass up! We have the dance class today!”

“Okay, one, it isn’t until five in the evening, and two, we can all dance decently. And, you act like I’ll actually dance with anyone? Sure, I know it’s your wedding and all, but I hate dancing.” Shoving the covers back over your head, you deeply exhaled and closed your eyes. “What time is it anyways? We don’t have to do anything until then.”

Your friend Cora sighed, knowing her attempts to get your curled up figure out of bed would be for nothing. “Hey, I’ll get you food. Just, for fuck’s sake, get ready!”

You shot straight out of bed at this, throwing the blankets over her head. “Well shit you should’ve just said that first.” Stumbling over to your drawers, you rummaged through everything in attempts to find something that you could easily dance in. Alas, your best friend will soon be lost to a man, but a good one at that. He was so sweet, and they went together like peanut butter and jelly. He was a beautiful man, for a beautiful woman. All of your friends are in relationships - except you. You had never like the feeling of putting all of your trust and love into a bond that could so easily be broken. You were the antisocial pessimist of your group, and you really didn’t care. You didn’t know how you made all of your friends, because you never went out in attempts to talk to anyone in the first place. It’s more like they all found you, liked you, and adopted you. They more or less barged their way into your life, but in the end, you gave up on thinking they were annoying and ended up keeping them close. But, romantic relationships were never something you were good at. Actually, you can’t say that. You’ve never been in one, mostly because you also have never found interest in anyone. You’ve never had sex, never had a boyfriend, hell, you haven’t even kissed anyone! You absolutely despised all of these ideas, so rather, you just sleep with your cats all day. Many times you have been in a situation were you would get set up with someone, but upon seeing it was as a date, you walked out of their life and refused to go back. For some strange reason, all of the boys liked you back in grade school. Which ended up with their hearts broken and a red imprint of your hand on their cheek. You were an asshole - of course you knew it. Everyone thinks that they effect you when they say that, but facts don’t hurt you. Everyone used to say you were lying when you never had a crush, and you were so tired of people’s shit towards you for saying that, that you just blocked yourself out of everyone’s lives. You weren’t a bullshitter, you always told the truth. The strange, sad truth that is you.

“You know (Y/N), one of these days you’re gonna have to get into a relationship. You can’t take care of yourself forever, things’ll change and you’ll realized how fucked you are when you’re fifty and a virgin.”

“Cora, I’m not a horny teenager. Never have been, never will be. If no one tries to talk to me, then I will live the life I’ve always wanted. Lonely and quiet.” Cora groans, running a hand through her thick, curly hair.

“I’m worried for you kid. Where are your good emotions at? I’ve seen them a couple of times, and shit, I’ve heard stories about you and Jungkook. You actually smile with him. Speaking of which, he’s gonna be your partner for dancing.” Jeon Jungkook was your childhood friend, both of you complaining about how much you hated everyone being the thing that brought you together. You two were practically twins, with the occasional thought of you being in a relationship with him. You would both cringe at that.

Heaving a sigh, you shooed her out and before she could question you, you slammed the door and went to work on your makeup. You were not what society would call beautiful, but you didn’t give one shit about it. You wore all black all the time, tattoos covering your ghastly white skin, and piercings leaving a bright gleam of light on your face covered in bold makeup. You looked very intimidating, and looks couldn’t deceive with you. You had never met but one person who wouldn’t move out of your way - that one person, of course, being Jungkook. You had an icy cold stare, and a chronic case of resting bitch face. Many respected you for your dominate and silent ways of control, just like how many hated it. You had power and you knew it. Growing up and having a hard childhood left you cold and unforgiving, where any sign of appreciation towards someone would be considered a miracle. You didn’t have a good relationship with any member of your family since you were considered the alien of it. You had figured out by age ten that you were a mistake, and no confirmation was needed. The rest of your family was typical for where you grew up in the dull state of Iowa - a mother working for a university, a handy father helping out as a mechanic, a creative older sister, and a surprisingly smart older brother. You, however, had always wanted change. You had started out by dying your hair black, which immediately got comments on how ugly you looked by your parents. They had set up a rule where you couldn't get any piercings until you could drive, so the second they were asleep the day you got your permit was when you went out and got all of your dream piercings. You got seven on each ear, a septum ring, a tongue stud, and a lip ring. Now, sadly, you didn't get these all at once, but you spread out your collection over time. Your parents were furious, and almost disowned you. But surprisingly they didn't. Then, your eighteenth birthday rolled around and you snuck off to get some ink with Jungkook. He was always there with you throughout all of your body modifications, and he was your number one supporter. You both had a couple of matching piercings and tats, picking some of the dumbest ideas to inscribe onto your skin. The second you came home with a trace of ink on your skin, your parents had kicked you out, and you stayed with Jungkook's family. They were the family you never had, always wishing you your best and helping you through anything. You were deeply saddened when you both had to depart for college in New York. Everyone but your family was disappointed when you two announced your departure. Wishes were given, and off you two went. Your grandparent’s will was given to you, and your eldest sister had managed to steal some of your parents’ money for you. You both bought a tiny apartment near the campus of the university, sharing everything with each other. Now, you’re here - nice home, nice job, nice pets, nice friends. And, a nice relationship.

With yourself that is.

Jogging down the steps, you poured your three Great Danes and two cats some food before running out to Cora’s car. After clicking your seatbelt on, you turned to look at Cora, who was staring right back at you with a mischievous smile. “Oh no. What now...?”

Her laugh swam around the inside of her car, hands flying to turn the key. After getting to the first stoplight, she rummaged through her purse to grab a hold of her phone. Without saying a word, she shoved the screen into your face, your hands flying up to look at it. “Holy shit, who’s that?”

“That, is our dance instructor. And I think you should get with him.” She said, speeding through the streets. A scoff came from you, shaking your head and setting the phone back on her lap.

“He looks to nice. And innocent. Not my type, I don’t wanna scar him.” Looking back out the window, you glanced up at a grand and extravagant building. The outside was pristine gold and white - the marbling on the pillars having black veins crawling to the top. If this was the outside, you couldn’t even begin to fathom what the interior would look like. Sighing, you got out and slung your duffel bag over your shoulder and shuffled in through the enormous double doors behind Cora. If you thought the outside was nice, the inside was breath taking. You had never been in such a place so fancy, you were staring in awe at everything around. Everything was plated in gold, quartz, marble, the works. All topped off with the most beautiful man you had ever seen sitting on a white velvet sofa and talking to the other girls. His hair was a silky grey, brushed perfectly to the side. His shirt was tucked into his black jeans, the silky material matching his hair. With being too caught up in gawking at the man, you didn’t notice the sparkling bright smile directed towards you from him. With a nudge from Cora, you cleared your throat and made your way over to the others.

“Well, since it seems everyone is here, I’m Park Jimin. Your dance teacher.” A bright smile spread over his features, and as all of the other girls were swooning, you mumbled a few things to Jungkook.

“Oh god, we gotta work with a Ken doll? Put me in a blender and call me Jungsmoothie.” Hearing the words come from your best friend’s mouth, your eyes teared up from the attempts to not laugh. Gripping at the strap of your bag, your eyes went straight to the floor as a silent laugh escaped your lips. The second you were all dismissed to change, you walked off laughing with Jungkook to find the respective changing rooms.

“Isn’t he hot?”

“That shouldn’t be a question, that’s a fact. Like, holy shit, did you see his ass?” All this talk about Mr. Ken doll was annoying the shit out of you, and you had to hear it throughout the entire class.

“Can you guys please stop talking about him for five seconds so I can leave? And, Cora, you don’t have any room to say that! You’re getting fucking married!” With a frustrated sigh, you snatched up your bag and walked out of the room to find Jungkook. There were a few calls from the girls, saying that ‘you know he’s hot!’ and that, ‘you’re just saying that because you like him!’. Rolling your eyes, you pulled Jungkook away from his group by his ear and headed towards the door. “We are leaving.”

A hiss came from the man’s mouth as he swatted your hands away, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. “What? Are they all talking about-”

A call of both of your names from behind you cut him short, both of you turning your heads to find who it came from. Jimin was leaning against the back of the plush creme couch, waving you both over. With a sigh, you heaved yourself around and walked back over to him.

“Yes?” Jungkook said, an irritable tone in his voice.

A light chuckle came from the man’s mouth, his warm eyes looking at you both. “I know you two aren’t particularly enthralled with the idea of this class, and I can see why. You are both very talented, and this is just like stepping in a box for you. If it’s any of my concern, we might just have to make separate classes since you’re so ahead of the others. Is that okay?” He looked over to you expectantly, while you pinch Jungkook as he groans.

“I think that would be okay, yeah. But are we working with each other? Because he keeps stepping on my toes.” A laugh fell from the man’s lips, and he waved it off.

“I think it would be more reasonable to work with someone who has a greater skill level, but if you’d like to work together you ca-”

��NO.” Your voices rang in unison, ending in Jungkook laughing.

Jimin chuckled, and smiled that brilliant smile again.��“Well, how does this weekend sound? You can both come on Saturday, and we’ll work out the times. You won’t have to come to these classes anymore, either,”

As the three of you worked out how you’d like to practice, you caught yourself staring at Jimin’s eyes more than you would find appropriate, and staring at his plump lips too.

What the fuck are you doing (Y/N)? Keep it together, don’t loose it now.

“You like him.” The accusation coming from Jungkook earned him a punch to the gut as you stole his keys from him and walked to the driver’s side of his car.

“Say anything like that again and I’ll slit your throat with high heels.” Turning the ignition over, you sighed and leaned back in the seat. “Ugh, how are we the best of the class? Do you think he’s just saying that? Fuck, I hate dancing...” You drove off to your place, deciding that you and Jungkook would hang out for the night.

You found yourselves both on your couch, watching whatever was on the TV with a box of pizza on the coffee table. Sprawling out over top of his lap, you curled up and pulled a blanket over the two of you. “I’m sleeping here. Goodnight.” And, without any other words exchanged between the two of you, you fell asleep engulfed with dreams of the mysterious ballroom teacher.

A knock on your door disrupted you from your much needed sleep, as many nights were spent looking up how to dance. Jungkook’s voice rang from behind the door, a ball of panic hitting you straight in the face.

It was already Saturday.

Throwing off the covers, you did your makeup as fast as humanly possible for you. Running out the door and pulling you with him, you were both already an hour late for the time you had set up.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU COME EARLIER YOU DICKHEAD?!”

“IT’S NOT MY FAULT I FORGOT TOO!” With a groan, you ran straight pass his car, knowing that the traffic would slow you down even more. Ignoring his calls, you ran away from your friend and down the sidewalks to the ballroom. Thoughts were running through your head, pounding on the walls of your mind. Finally, you bursted your way through those giant double doors and leaned against the wall in attempts to catch your breath. You already looked like a mess - sweat from the heat of the summer day dripping down your face, your hair a wind styled mess. But, all is well as long as your makeup was good.

Silently making your way to the changing rooms, you threw on your dance attire and sneaked back out. You could have a simple excuse; you were wandering around the building and lost your way. A laugh from behind you caught your attention, your head whipping around to see Jimin.

“You’re late.”

A sigh fell from your lips as you made your way over to him. “Yeah, well at least I came.” There goes the excuse idea. “Where is my partner anyways? Since I’m not working with Jungkook.”

A smirk grew on his face as he went to play some music over the speakers. “You’re looking at him darling. Now, come, we’ll go over what we learned on Wednesday.” His exterior seemed to change around you, his bubbly self turning into a confident and mysterious one. He held his arms out for you, the smirk still present on his face.

With a sigh, your fingers intertwined with his as you rested your right hand on his shoulder. His hand made it’s way to your waist, your body being pulled against his. You both made your ways around the entirety of the ballroom floor, your stiff and protective movements soon flowing with the music like satin. Your frown had disappeared, your features softening with the beautiful sound swallowing the room.

“Keep your chin high. You don’t want your eyes trained on your feet instead of your partner.” Your eyes slowly made their way up his frame, taking in each detail and storing it in the file cabinets of your brain. Your eyes met his, and suddenly you could see the layers of sadness that had been buried beneath his many facades. His eyes had that single spark of warmth, like a blanket trying to cover how cold he really was. There was loneliness, sadness, you knew those eyes. You knew them like the back of your hand.

You looked at them every day in the mirror.

Your furrowed brows softened, a look of recognition flooding through your orbs. Your movements became unfocused, as you stumbled over your own feet and prepared for the feeling of cool marble hitting your bones. But, it never came, as you were instead encased in the warmth of a grasp on your waist. Your eyes opened, only to be met with Jimin hovering over you, holding you in the position of a dip for the end of the song.

A quiet chuckle left his lips, your ears now identifying how forced all of his cheerful movements really were. “Careful darling. Can’t have any broken bones before the dance, now can we?”

Instead of fighting, you subtly nodded, hands holding onto his as he swings you back upright. Your eyes lingered on each others’ for a bit too long, before he tears his gaze away to change the song. Coming back to you, he pulled you against him once again, the movements all flowing together perfectly.

You both danced the day away, only realizing it once you broke gazes and looked to one of the giant windows. The stars were littering the night sky, the sight rare for a polluted city night such as this one. Jimin looked back at you, the smallest of smiles finding its way on his lips. His hand found yours, and he tugged you towards the grand staircase. “Come with me. I have something to show you.” Silently, you followed the man out onto the rooftop. The sky was enthralling up here, the dull sound of car engines fading away as you cast your sight up to the stars. Everything was crisp and clear, the lights in the sky outshining the lamps along the streets and the bright neon billboards on the towering skyscrapers. His quiet voice brought you out of your trance, your head snapping back down to look at him. “So you know.”

“Know what?” You had a faint idea of what he was pointing at, but just to make sure, you wanted to confirm it.

He took in a shaking, almost silent breath, a sound so quiet many wouldn’t have noticed. But you were used to these signs. Signs from people that lied when you asked them, ‘Are you okay?’. “That it’s all fake. I saw how you looked at me. You know I’m not the person I play out to be.”

Looking down over the city, all words were hushed as any sound seemed to drift away with the breeze. Finally, you spoke up. “I’m used to seeing eyes like yours. I see them staring back at me in the mirror.” You had made your way to the edge of the building, casting your gaze over the city below. “What’s your story behind it all?”

You could see his stature stiffen next to you, his head hanging low. “Someone... Special in my life died because of me. It’s all a long story.”

“We have all the time in the world.” You knew you were prodding the safety line, wandering into treacherous waters, saying something like that.

He sighed, his head tilting back to look up at the lights stringing together. After a painfully suspenseful silence, he started his story. “Her name was Jordan. I loved her, god, I loved her so fucking much. We were young, and stupid, and restless. She had moved to my school in sixth grade, but she blended in with the whole crowd. It was like no one ever knew she had come here. No one ever noticed her. But one day, I went to her table at lunch, and sat across from her. It was like it was just the two of us, and the entire lunchroom was dead silent. We felt like we were in our own little place, like it was just us two. I brought out the good in her, the different. Time passed and she grew close with me. One night, she came to me, and she made me chop off all her hair with a pocket knife so she looked different. Then, she dyed it all a bright blue. We stopped wearing the school uniforms, and yeah. We started dating. I don’t think she loved me as much as I loved her, shit, I don’t even think that was possible. But one day, we were driving down the interstate together. We were having this stupid fucking argument, and we were yelling at each other and everything. I took my eyes off the road to look at her for a second, but a car in front of us lost control and hit us off the road. We rammed into a tree and I couldn’t see anything. I didn’t know she died on impact until a week later...” His voice was broken and torn, the end of his past breaking apart into a hoarse whisper. You knew none of that was his fault, but you also knew that you wouldn’t be able to convince him.

“I would say I’m sorry, but I know how useless sorries are.” You sighed, looking back up at the sky. “But just know that none of it was your fault.” You felt an unknown twist in your heart, the idea of him with someone had effected you in some way. It shouldn’t have though, right? You had lost a lot of people in your life, you should be used to things like this. Yes, you had lost people, but no one was ever close to you. Hell, you had sometimes wished they were dead from the start. And comforting people was never a trait of yours.

You checked the time, seeing it was already close to midnight. “You should go.” Glancing over at him, you nodded at his words before turning to go.

Stopping yourself, you looked over your shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Jimin.” That was the last thing you said to each other that night.

You found yourself never missing a single class with Jimin, your heart slightly looking forward to being with someone like you. The wedding had crept up on you, so there you were, sitting at a table in a much too flashy dress, in gaudy heels you would never wear, with your hair in a bun so tight, you through you just got a free facelift. Like you said, you stayed seated the whole time, just listening and watching with a glass of wine in your hands. You had to admit, You never were one who enjoyed weddings or the after parties. But, you had to say, Hoseok was absolutely perfect for Cora. You mind drifted back to Jimin’s story, back to his past. You couldn’t get any of the things he said off of your mind since that night, and nothing could take it’s place. A hand was place on your shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts as you looked back to see him.

“Jimin? W-what are you doing here?”

His broken smile was taped onto his face, the corners of his mouth moving up robotically. “Cora invited me.” His voice was so soft, almost being drown out in the loud music and voices of others. “You’re the main reason I’m here. I knew you wouldn’t have danced, so it’s my job to make you.” You smiled the smallest smile, but he knew that it was real. That it held so much more than what met his eyes.

“I would like that.” A slow song swam in the air, the sound suffocating, the chords too big and beautiful to be trapped in a singular room. Jimin’s eyes lit up, some of the sadness fading away. Some. Memories never do leave you.

You found yourself wrapped in his arms, your bodies hidden away on the corner of the dance floor. People couldn’t help but stare, their eyes being drawn to the mysterious couple dancing away. Neither of you noticed, your eyes solely being locked onto each other’s. The hall was silent, save for the music. Others had stopped dancing, leaving just you two out in the open. your head was resting on his shoulder, eyes closed now and breath slowing. You could feel all of the eyes staring at you, burning holes into your figure. Once the song stopped, claps were caging the two of you in the room, a wink from Cora was making a smile spread onto your face. You were pulled out from the room, the atmosphere changing immediately. You walked beside Jimin, eyes trained on the floor in front of you both. Carpet changed to concrete, and you found yourselves dancing on the rooftop. The sky was littered with the stars, looking identical to the night you shared your secrets. There was no music, but none was needed. You were both standing there, dancing in each other’s arms. Your mind was throwing a tantrum, screaming that this was wrong, that you’d only get hurt once again. You saw no love in his eyes, and you knew he wasn’t over Jordan. He had no feelings for you, only for a dead girl. A dead girl of which he loved so dearly, and he lost so quickly. There was sadness in his eyes, and there always would be. Who were you to think that you could ever make anyone feel better? That you had any say in his past?

And so you danced.

You danced away your feelings for him, you danced away your sadness, you danced away that little sliver of hope you had, that maybe, just maybe, someone would love you.

Only the stars knew.

#jimin fluff #bts jimin #park jimin #jimin smut #jimin angst #bts #jimin au #jimin scenario #bts au #bts scenarios #bangtan #bangtan boys

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pyxel-spree · 7 years ago

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12 | and the galaxies fall

Isolde has now made it clear, through guarded hints at first and now through yelling until she is literally red in the face, that she will not stand for me not going to school. She bought all my school stuff (bonus: horrifyingly bright clothes) at some discount store, and now no more excuses; I will be going to the satellite campus of Arcadia Village School today.

This particular satellite campus is nicknamed "Lyria Day School" after the royal palace at Lyria, because so many royals'/politicians' kids go there when their parents have to work in the island chain. It has free tuition, we get to pick our own classes, don't have to wear the school uniform, don't have to practically kill people to get into the school (Arcadia being kind of notorious, even for the Valorian boarding school circuit, for rejecting kids like crazy)...the kids who don't have our connections must hate us. Llenwi already goes there, but he spends most of his time on a computer, probably playing online games, but allegedly "catching up" on whatever work he needs to do for public school.

I do not want to go. For one thing, I have a murder to investigate. For another, I don't want to have to deal with people. My entire family already hates my angry, strung-out-on-psycho-pharmaceuticals, ugly self enough. No good getting more people to hate my guts.

That is a thing I've noticed about real!Oceania. No one likes her very much. But I'd rather be her than that lost, drifting soul I was after Anni died, searching for answers, wanting to talk to someone, but not knowing how. real!Oceania is much better than perfect two-faced Oceania, who let people push her around and cared about what they thought too much. Even though I lose all my fights with Isolde, I still fight, which is an improvement. I might not be gaining much, but at least I'm not kicking myself for not trying.

But enough about me. Let's go on to school. So in the ass-crack of the morning, Isolde bangs on my door loud enough to wake the dead. No Sheila G's for me. Llenwi has made me a dubious greenish-brown "power drink" in the blender, an appliance he has only recently learned how to use. Also (will miracles never cease?) Isolde has made me scrambled eggs. We're out of bread, so she has to put them on a cracker. Sadly, it's actually the first decent meal I've had my whole time on Earth. She's actually a pretty good cook.

During our meal, Isolde mentions, offhandedly, in the same tone in which she might announce she was going to get groceries, that due to some "complications," I will be in Special Ed.

I almost choke on my eggs. "What?!"

"Well, don't overreact, Oceania, for heavens' sake. They were a bit concerned, understandably, I might add, about the whole stabbing incident. And your depression."

"I'm not really depressed! You just made that up so I wouldn't have to go to juvie!"

"A good thing, too." she snaps, grabbing my eggs and scraping them into the trash, then pouring out Llenwi's power drink. So much for breakfast. "Why you did that, I will never understand."

It is the first time she has ever mentioned the unfortunate event that brought me here, and that just continues to piss me off. "Damn right you won't. That would require you to have a heart or a soul." I know I'm being dramatic, but I don't really care.

"Shut up, Oceania." she says casually. Somehow that stings more than any curse she could hurl at me. "Get dressed. And wear those glasses!"

Oh yeah. When I went in for the mandatory doctor's exam you need to get into school, they found out my vision is crazy bad. I'm almost legally blind. I mean, I've always known I couldn't see for shit, but at my other schools I've never had to have a vision test and the only times I ever see a doctor is before school. To "save money," Isolde picked out these ugly blue plastic glasses. So now I look like the fourth-grader who's going to get beat up on the playground.

And today I have to wear a short sleeved mint green too-long-to-be-a-shirt-too-short-to-be-a-dress with some unintelligible design on it and these purple leggings which were made for a shorter person than me. I hate leggings anyway, because you have to wear them without underwear or risk having your underwear show through. It's just a no-win situation. I slip on the matching mint canvas moccasins, put on my glasses (it's amazing how much you can see!), grab my new, hideous orange-and-pink backpack, and bolt out to the Mini. Although the government offered Isolde a new car, a hover, she still prefers driving the same old ground cars.

We drive in tense silence. "Any news on the Rublex?" I ask Isolde, more to dispel the eerie calm that has settled over us than anything.

"Actually, yes." she tells me, which surprises me; she's never told me anything about what she learns working for Cielaré. "More galaxies may have been taken."

"Wait, seriously?" I say.

"We're not sure, but the power surges that happened in the Rublex? They happened in the Yghur and the Tydarian as well, yesterday. They're working to get them online again, but as of yet, no one knows what's going on." It is strange that she is being so frank with me, considering I've done nothing but scream at her these past few days. I feel absurdly guilty.

"I wonder what happened."

"That's what we're all wondering, Oceania." Isolde snaps, like I am just the dumbest girl in the world. And just like that I can't like her again.

••

Alec aggressively shoved his way past the rows of jostling students, ducking into the classroom that sheltered the Arcadia math team. Seeing Kai Zadaña's tall, muscular frame, his shock of black curly hair, cheeky grin, and polished umber skin, he glared, then took his customary seat in the front row.

Every year, they had elections for captain, which Alec had won until last year, when Zadaña showed up with his animal magnetism and perfect body honed from years of sports training. With Zadaña came Santos Darcies, larger, broader, but a follower, not a leader. But Kai liked him, so he got to be vice-captain. It was terrible. They had ruined his (somewhat grueling, he had to admit) everyday practice schedule. Members only had to come twice a week. And instead of allowing people to go to competitions based on seniority, which made sense, they had everyone take a test to try out for every competition. Oh, enrollment had increased, sure, but the new team was made up of people who were disturbingly lacking in commitment.

"All right, people," Zadaña said, swinging his annoyingly long legs over the top of the desk so everyone could see he was wearing expensive yellow and green sneakers instead of his uniform shoes. Rich prick. "We got the Math Match next week at the Redd Palace concert hall. "And our lineup is...me, Darcies, Clarence, Deliwitz, Reginalds, Crayne, Waite, and Nicholson. Alternates are Sorkins and Adair, I guess," he said, smirking at Alec, who was seething. How the hell am I an alternate? And who's Nicholson?

After the meeting ended, Alec cornered him. "Zadaña."

"Adair." The taller boy rolled his eyes. "What do you want?"

"What do I want? Really? You know what I want, you slimy dick. I want my spot back!"

"You have a spot. You're an alternate." Zadaña drawled. "It was a fair test. Everyone took it, Adair. You just blew it. It's not a big deal."

"You're making a a huge mistake, not letting me on. No one knows more about advanced algebra than me."

"Actually...hate to break it to you, but Nicholson does. And he proved it on the test. So, if you've got any further questions..." He let the words hang in the air.

Alec wasn't finished. "Who is Nicholson?"

"Gideon Nicholson." When Alec looked nonplussed, Zadaña threw his hands up in disgust. "My God, Adair, we've been in class with him for three years; how do you still not know who he is? Tall skinny guy, doesn't talk a lot, sharp dresser? Anyway, it turns out the guy is...kind of a math whiz. Wouldn't make sense to leave him out."

"What about seniority?"

"Drop it. You're an alternate. Maybe next tournament."

Tears of frustration began to build in Alec's eyes. "But..."

Zadaña scoffed. "Oh, come on, you're not crying, are you?"

"No," Alec snapped, and whirled out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

••

"The Tydarian, Tessa. And the Yghur. When is this going to end?" Seonid whispered. They were in her bedroom, afternoon light dappling the desk and the walls.

"Now to be fair, we don't know-"

"Shut up," Seonid snapped. "Seriously, just drop the optimist act. It's not helping, and you're not convincing anyone." She paused. "That wasn't fair. I'm sorry. It's just...everyone is being so calm and acting so damn normal about this. I feel like I'm the only one who sees that this is an actual problem we need to fix, rather than some political game. Dunavain died, Tessa, and it's like nobody cares."

"Not the High Lord." Tessa argued. "He's working on taking this to the Federated Congress."

"If the High Lord really cared, he'd invade the galaxy himself, and damn the consequences. Instead he fools around with committees and such nonsense, while there are people whose lives are at stake. You know it."

Tessa flushed. "You also know that even we have no idea how large the occupying force is."

"All the more reason for a forceful solution, before this becomes an actual threat. Well, maybe now that the Yghur and the Tydarian are at stake too, people will listen. You know I've never been much for military action, but damn it, it makes sense in this scenario."

"Language." Tessa warned, her tone mock-dangerous.

"The only person who seems willing to work with me is that House Diamond aide, Adrian." Seonid went on. "Can you believe it, an aide of all people is more committed to helping us than any of the leaders? I mean, of the assembled Houses here, Firedrop's a joke, House Ruby is weak, Emerald is too cautious, Sapphire's fighting Amethyst over some trade route, and Diamond and Onyx are too busy squabbling about ideology to do anything-"

"I'm going to stop you right there." Tessa snapped. "You are going to stay away from Adrian Silva if it's the last thing I do. Trust me, an aide is not going to be any help with this crisis."

"Funny," said Seonid, smiling. "I never told you his last name."

Tessa bristled. "Well, you must have said it sometime."

"Is it just my imagination, or do you two know each other?"

"It's just your imagination." Tessa told her curtly. "The point is, people like Adrian are only after one thing-"

Seonid couldn't help but make a face. "Really?"

"...power." Tessa finished. "That's all I mean. Just because he's a good-looking guy doesn't mean he's an angel. He's looking to experiment, try some things out...he's certainly not ready to commit to anything."

"Are you talking about the Rublex, or-" Seonid wrinkled her nose. "something else?"

A wicked glint appeared in Tessa's eyes. "Why not both? He doesn't have any power to help you with the Rublex; he's only an aide, after all. And as for the other...well, you're a bit young for him, aren't you?"

"Why not? He's only seventeen." And so charming...

The light from the window passed over Tessa's face, shadowing it, but Seonid was fairly certain she heard a sharp intake of breath. Irritation took over. "Well, that's what he said, for heavens' sake."

"It doesn't matter. You've got better things to focus on then boys." Tessa returned sharply.

"Okay, okay!" Seonid laughed, then doubled down over her work. But her mind was straying dangerously close to a particular pair of blue eyes...

••

The man was tall and freckled, with a deep tan nonetheless, a white suit, and a shock of wiry white curls. They had been red once, but had lost none of their vigor. He was smoking a large cigar, from which the fumes had created a hazy grey miasma. Once in a while he would quaff some brandy from a flask in his pocket. In the High Lord's pristine white offices in Centaurii Center, he looked woefully out of place.

The receptionist, a green-eyed beauty, wobbled over on dangerous black stilettos. She was new, but then again, they all were. "Sir, I'm sorry, but you can't smoke that in here."

The man paid her no mind, inhaled a little deeper. Oh, Alastair had been always a little too much for rules. It amused him to break them a bit, just to rock that unflappable calm.

She tried again. "Sir, do you have an appointment?"

At that, the man laughed. "Appointment? Why, no, why would I need one, dearie?"

The receptionist looked confused. "The High Lord is a busy man. Unless you have an appointment, you really can't see him."

"Who is the High Lord meeting with today?" he asked, with uncharacteristic boldness.

"The Mexican ambassador, and the Prime Addressant of the Republic of Greater Fluv-"

"Cancel it." he said pleasantly. "He's going to want to see me."

"I'm sorry, sir. I can't do that. Unless the High Lord actually cancels these meetings, he must-"

"No, I understand." The man got up, as if to leave, then turned back around. "By the way, will you tell him that Rythicaen Ruble is here to see him?" As an afterthought, he added, "When he can fit me into his schedule, of course?"

The receptionist's hands flew to her mouth. "Oh, I'm so sorry, milord-" She fell into a deep bow.

"No need to apologize, dearie," said the man who had been the High Lord Ruble politely. "Just tell him I'm here, will you?"

"Of course-" The receptionist scampered off. Ruble took another long drag from his cigar, then washed it down with a contemplative sip of brandy. By the time he was moving to take his next sip, the receptionist had returned.

He stood up. "And?"

"The High Lord Cielaré will see you now."

••

Special Ed is actually rather civilized. Mostly because I am the only person in it. I have a desk in a colorful classroom, and a green locker that doesn't close right. On closer inspection, someone (hint: Candie) has decorated the whole thing with decals and stock photos of Paris. I want to use the other locker in the little row, but according to Mrs. Elda, the gregarious, steel-haired special education coordinator, it doesn't open.

I am given a math textbook about fourth year level and a paperback mystery novel. Once I prove that I can, indeed, do long division and read aloud, she doesn't really know what to do. She gives me a bigger math textbook and tells me to work through it "at my own pace."

Once she leaves, I pull my smuggled tablet from my bag, along with Llenwi's cell phone, grabbed off the counter this morning. Technically, we're supposed to share, but he hogs the damn thing so much, I don't actually feel that bad about taking it from him. Now what? I know I want to find out who killed Anni, but where to start? I'm not a detective or anything, but the Valorian police department might be a good start.

When I called earlier I always used one of the phones at school, but now, with only this cell, my mission suddenly feels a lot more dire. If I fuck up, there's no backup phone. With trembling fingers, I dial the number. A man picks up on the third ring.

"Valorian Police Department."

"Hi, I'm Megha Kaylix from Galactipol." I say in my most adult voice. "I was wondering if I could see the Larsson file. Annifrid Larsson?"

"Um, yes, Ms. Kaylix? So sorry, but that file is probably with a team from Olympia. I can give you their number..." The man's voice trails off.

"No, never mind." I tell him. "Can I see your archived copy, then? The one you kept for your records?"

"I'm sorry again, but that file's been backlogged for weeks. There's a huge list of people who've wanted to see it, and that's only today. I can mail it to you in a month, but that's only if everyone returns it in time-"

I cut him off. "What about the Valorian library's copy?" Copies of crime reports are sent to libraries after they are filed, for the sake of public record. It's the law.

"You can try," says the man skeptically, "but chances are it'll be just as bad, if not worse, with that copy."

"I don't need a hard copy," I say excitedly. "A digital would be just fine."

The man perks up. "Well, why didn't you say that before? Just give me your email and I can send it along."

"Um...ocea-I mean, [email protected]." I say quickly, remembering to give them the name of a spam account I haven't used since I was six.

He chuckles. "Funny name. Not your government one, I take it?"

I swallow.

"It's fine. Lots of people use an alt address. It's smarter in my opinion-harder to track, that is..." And he proceeds to go on a tangent about how e-security is going to the dogs. It takes a while to get him off the phone. But when I do, I'm smiling for the first time in a week.

I'm actually getting somewhere with this.

••

They faced each other from across the room, white hair and black, one ghost-pale, one freckled and bronzed. The High Lord ached with the longing of wanting to say something, but lacked the wherewithal how. Ruble is here...Rythicaen Ruble, friend, lover, rival.

Ruble broke the silence. "How are you, old friend?"

"Well enough. And you?"

His old friend laughed, a sharp, wheezing sound. "Now, what kind of greeting is that? One would think this is simply a political meeting."

"Isn't it?"

Ruble sighed. "I wish. But I came here for something. Look, Alastair, I need..." He broke off, as if the words pained him. "a favor."

This disquieted Cielaré more than he could say. Rythicaen had never asked for favors, even in the direst of straits. "What is it?"

Ruble gripped his arm tightly, brown eyes boring into his own. "I need my position back. I need-" He whispered the last words, a frightened rasp in his voice. "protection."

"What from?" Cielaré asked, suddenly worried.

"I can't tell you."

"Very well. Then I can't get your position for you. You know I have no influence in Diamond House."

At that, Ruble issued a throaty chuckle, releasing his arm. "I think you could have influence wherever you pleased."

Cielaré gave a bare hint of a smile. "That is true."

"My position. Protection. That's all I ask. Please, Alastair. These people...well, I shan't bore you with the details, but they want me." Ruble begged.

"After Sorelle died, I thought we'd seen the last of you." the High Lord said wonderingly. "You were furious; you loathed us. Why are you back? You can tell me."

"I need your protection. I know what you did for that little girl, Alastair. By your side, I can be safe. Besides-" He smiled, a glimmer of himself returning. "I believe you are in a situation that could use my special touch. Diplomacy." He said the last word with obvious relish."

"But-" Ruble put a finger to his lips, and just as swiftly, cupped the High Lord's chin in his own and gave him a sharp, tobacco-smoke and liquor kiss. It happened so fast the High Lord wondered if he had imagined it. It was exquisite, just like the old days, and yet...there was an aftertaste of gunpowder that did not belong on his pacifistic friend.

"We don't have an audience with the Congress yet." the High Lord whispered, when he was sure his senses had recovered.

Ruble grinned, and at that, the High Lord knew that Ruble had won everything back in one fell swoop. "Leave that to me."

••

#ogak #my writing

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