#afraid I don’t have any topper images

[thecoolerantistraight]

Clash Wallpapers I Use That Aren’t Just Awkwardly Cropped Images Of them

Bonus The Damned Wallpaper:

All of the images are very lightly edited(usually just upping the black point or making them black and white)

[petite-ely]

Afraid // JJ Maybank

five - but what if?

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem routledge! reader

Warnings: bad language (don’t swear kids), mention of drowning, mention of death, nightmares, mention of guns, mention of fight, did I miss something.

Description: after his reckless actions at the party, JJ is unable to sleep but he isn’t the only one still awake.

A/n : I don’t want to make this longer than it already is, I think I’ve talked enough lol. If for some reason you want to know why I’ve been gone for so long I’ve written a post regarding it. Sorry again for not posting in so long. If you want to chat, feel free to reach out. I’m friendly. :) please kindly tell me if I’ve made some mistakes, I’ve reread this like a hundred times but its possible some mistakes slipped.

Previously next

Afraid masterlist

Gif by @cobrazkai

Song recommendation

JJ Maybank was 14 years old when he first realized that he had feelings for one of his best friends. The thing is he didn’t know what the hell those feelings were. He had always thought that y/n was really pretty and he considered her to be one of her closest friends and that was it. Friends- that’s what they were.

But after years of friendship and wild adventures and basically hanging out 24/7, something felt different. And boy, did that scare him.

JJ was not the kind of person to be really in touch with his emotions. Being abandoned by his own mother and living with an abusive alcoholic father didn’t really help either. If anything, his past traumas only made him more disconnected from his emotions and feelings.

He might’ve been hot headed and impulsive but that didn’t stop him from feeling things, often even too deeply. The issue was naming the emotions he was feeling. He didn’t know what he was feeling like half of the time. So when it came to y/n, his feelings for her were so intense and unknown. He had never felt this way for anyone before. He was so confused.

Being around her felt weirdly homely and yet, he never really had a real home to come to. For him, it was only a house. It was a building with things he wasn’t really attached to and a man he couldn’t really call a father, despite DNA saying otherwise. Being with her felt warm and golden and it was like a drug he couldn’t say no to. He was constantly looking for ways to feel this specific way. It was euphoric. But he only felt this way when he was around her. And it felt like home.

She was the home he wanted to come to every freaking night. And he wanted to dance with her and have night long discussion and caress her cheeks tenderly. He wanted to kiss her more than anything else, his lips on hers staying that way until one of them needed to take a breath - oh what heavenly feeling that must be. He wanted to proclaim his feelings to the entire island - the entire world even.

Only he couldn’t. There was this rule, and he couldn’t break it. Usually, he wasn’t the kind of person to let rules determine what he should and shouldn’t do. But it was the pogue rules, he couldn’t break them. He couldn’t do that to his friends, regardless of his own feelings.

Love. That’s what his feelings were. It took him some time to realize it, but yeah, it was love. He was certain of it (which was rare for JJ). A first love, innocent, deep and one sided. At least that’s what he thought. How could she love him? How could anyone love him when even his own father didn’t? Who would want him?

Now, JJ had messed, big time.

He was sitting beneath a tree, at the edge of the yard whims the château, a few feet away from where the water started. His gaze was turned towards the sunrise though he wasn’t really looking at the magnificent show of colours that nature was offering him. He was thinking or more like regretting.

He kept replaying the event that had happened just a few hours ago on the boneyard again and again in his mind. The arrogance on John B’s face while he taunted the kooks, the empty, psychotic look on Topper’s face while he was holding J.B’s head underwater, his own hand holding the gun against Topper’s head. It felt so powerful at the moment and yet in retrospect he felt so stupid. What would he have done if something had actually happened, if someone had gotten hurt because of him?

In the spur of the moment, he hadn’t thought about it really much. How crazy it actually was. He saw his friend in a situation where he could actually die and only thought about helping him. He had this thing with him that could help save him, an object that take could take someone’s life in the matter of seconds. So he used it at his advantage. He had only wanted to help, but at what cost.

He kept picturing the expression on y/n’s face when he got the gun out. It wasn’t anger, no it was much worse, she was terrified. She had actually been scared of him. How could he ever make up for that. How he could he ever admit what he was feeling for her after he had brought her such terror. He had ruined everything.

What if she never forgot that moment? What if she never forgave him?

A branch cracked somewhere in the distance, and JJ turned to face whoever, or whatever, was lurking in the dark. He was blinded by the bright artificial light of a flashlight. “JJ?” A voice spoke and the blond immediately recognized it. Y/n.

“Can you please turn it off, I don’t think it’s necessary,” he responded, motioning to the clarity that brought the sunrise. It was light enough for them to fully see one another.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, “-she sat down beside him- “Couldn’t sleep?” JJ stared at her for a moment before taking his eyes away.

“Yeah, you could say that. What about you? John B snoring too loud?” Y/n gave a small laugh.

“Um, no, not this time.” Her smile went down. “I had a nightmare.” JJ’s brows furrowed.

“Not about um, not about tonight right?” He asked, guilt hidden in the tremors of his voice.

Images of the past night filled y/n’s mind. Her brother being held under water, JJ pulling the gun out, the loud echoing sound of the firearm as it shot in the air. She could still hear it ringing slightly in her ears.

A small moment went by before she finally shook her head in denial, earning a small sigh of relief from the blond (at least that wasn’t his fault, he already felt guilty for so many things). “No, uh, no it wasn’t that,” she said, her voice barely audible.

JJ stared at her face in the golden light of this early morning. He noticed the blank stare in her eyes and frowned. Nightmares, although worrying for most people, were pretty common for y/n. JJ of course knew this, yet something felt odd.

He rested his hand on the small part of her back between her shoulder blades. “Do you want to talk about it?” She turned her head to meet his eyes, the feeling of his skin, warm and soft against hers sending small tingles at the base of her neck.

She didn’t want to bother him with her problems, she knew how horrible his home life was compared to what she was living. She didn’t want to remind him of this not make him feel bad about her small problems when he was facing such violence on a daily basis. Still, she knew JJ and talking about his dad was the last thing he wanted to do. And his eyes, his beautiful ocean blue eyes, it’s like they could see through her. How could she lie to him?

“I, uh I-I-“ his hand went to her shoulder and he squeezed it reassuringly. “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.” Y/n felt her cheeks burning (hopefully he didn’t notice it). She took a moment to breathe in deeply the fresh air, calming herself slightly before putting her hand on his.

“No, I-I want to. I think it’ll help, in a way.” JJ cracked a sweet smile. “Alright then.”

“I keep having this one dream about my dad and I see him on his boat wandering. He’s lost in the middle of the ocean and he’s calling my name.” Saying those words, she really felt as though she could hear her father calling her name in the far distance, as if he was right beside her. Sadly, it was only her imagination playing tricks on her.

“And it keeps turning to this nightmare, where he dies in various horrible ways. Either drowned or starved or eaten by sharks.” JJ’s gaze softened, his eyes admiring her lips forming each words one after the other. “But tonight-“ she let go of his hand, shifting her body to face him completely, “-tonight, for a reason, I didn’t see him.”

“The boat was empty.”

Flashes of her nightmare came back to her like waves crashing on the beach. Her dad on his boat, a smile sketched on his lips. The sky is clear blue, not a cloud is in sight. There’s a warm breeze, she can almost feel it on her skin, and the sun is shining. It’s almost utopian, the perfect day to spend out in the sea.

Then the scene changes. The sky darkens to a deeper shade of blue, grey clouds towering the ocean. The wind is stronger, much stronger. It whistles as it makes its way in the crevices between each tree and threatens to tear the sails down. And the boat, she can see it floating hauntingly on the wild waves the same way a ghost would in abandoned castle. And there’s no trace of her father. Not even a feeling, that would tell her he’s there, trying to survive this storm.

“What if he really is gone J? What if my dad-“ she stopped her sentence to look at the horizon, somehow hoping to see a sign that would prove she was wrong. “I’m trying so hard to be positive and optimistic, but it’s been so long. What if he never comes back?”

The look in her eyes was heart-wrenching. JJ didn’t know what to say or do. He never really thought about it. What would happen if Big John was gone. To be honest he didn’t want to, that man was more of father to him than his own ever was. And losing him would be... he preferred not to think about it.

“I disagree,” he finally said. “What?” “Your dad is like one of the smartest person I’ve ever known. I think that, he, of all people would know how to get out of any situation, especially if it seems impossible to everyone else. I don’t think that you should give up on him yet.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes, I do,” he smiled. “So fuck everyone who tells you otherwise,“ y/n giggled. “Fuck all of them! You’re allowed to have hope, y/n, even after this much time. They can’t take that from you.”

“In the meantime, we’ll there’s us,” us, “the pogues, our own family. We can get through anything, right?”

“Yeah, we can.” Y/n’s head fell on his shoulder. “We’re the pogues.”

JJ admired her carefully. How her face looked, basked in the golden rays of the sun, looking so terribly tired and yet so beautiful. He could stay like this forever, losing himself completely in her smile. God she was so wonderful.

“Hey y/n/n?” “Yeah?” “Are you mad at me?” “Huh?”

“Why would I be ma- oh, oh.” The gun. He thought she was mad at him for what he did. Though he saved her brother, didn’t he? So, she didn’t understand why he would think she could hate him.

“It’s just that you looked so terrified when-” “You saved him JJ, that’s what matters most.” Y/n interrupted the boy mid sentence, placing her hand on his arm in gratitude. “If you hadn’t done anything, he could have...” she didn’t finish her sentence.

When she saw JJ holding the firearm against Topper’s head just a few hours ago, she had first been incredibly shocked. She didn’t recognize the JJ she knew. But now, she completely understood. It was his way of protecting his friends, his way of showing he cared. And that, she admired him for it. Though he could’ve shown it in a less dangerous way.

“I admit,” she added, “it was dangerous and a bit scary to see and we’re probably gonna get some kind of revenge from the kooks soon, but no one got hurt. And J.B, well he’s okay! We’re all okay!”

“Also, I’m pretty sure I did some very, very stupid things last night, so I can’t really be mad at you,” she cringed remembering the amount of alcohol influenced things she had said and done during the party. “God, I must have looked so ridiculous.”

JJ laughed at her comment. “Yes, yes you did.” “Man, John B was right, I can’t believe I’m saying this.”

“Can you just promise me something?” Asked y/n, once their laughter had died. “Depends what?”

“Promise me you’ll never hurt yourself with that thing, or anyone else for that matter.”

“I promise, y/n. ”

“Thank you.”

Taglist

@deionswannabegirl @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @poguestyle17 @im-a-stranger-thing @lasnaro @thoughtsofthestars @briandaflores19 @lunaposey @allycat449-blog @ifilwtmfc @kitty084 @coloradogirl07 @ponyboys-sunsets @chaoticbisous @p0gue420 @sloaneemily

If I forgot you or if you wanna be added/removed just tell me! Also I’m sorry if your name didn’t work :/

[heyhey-heyward]

make a move

summary: four times JJ didn’t make a move + one time he did.

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking

word count: 5.8k

requests are open!

masterlist

ONE

Growing up a Kook could be suffocating. Between your parents telling you to keep up their image and your inability to relate to any of the other Kooks on Figure Eight you just felt like you needed to get out sometimes.

And so you would drive around aimlessly. With the windows down and your music playing through the speakers, you felt like you could relax for a while. You were supposed to stay on Figure Eight, but sometimes you would wander into the Cut, not afraid of the poor side of the island—much to your mother’s annoyance. She was one of the rich people that thought Kooks were better than Pogues just because the former could buy their way out of any problem.

After storming out of your house for the third time in a week, you found yourself mindlessly driving through The Cut. You could tell there’s only half an hour until sunset, so you knew you should start heading back before your parents get even more mad at you than they already were, but you couldn’t get yourself to turn back just yet.

After a few more minutes of driving, you find yourself on an abandoned road. Well, mostly abandoned, because there’s a car parked on the side of the road and you can see three figures looking at something at the ground. You recognized the figures, it’s Rafe, Topper, and Kelce. The three make your stomach twist, they’re never up to any good, and the uncomfortable feeling you had only worsened when you realized they were looking at someone curled up on the ground. Three against one, they always were ones for even odds.

JJ Maybank was a force to be reckoned with, and that’s just from the stories you heard about him around the island. He mowed your lawn, occasionally helping your dad with the boat and other odd jobs around the house. He was funny, and nice, and undeniably attractive. But now, he was on the ground with three of Figure Eight’s biggest assholes surrounding him. And that never meant good news.

You swerved, parking your car on the side of the road. Your actions caught the attention of the boys, and when Rafe realized it was you, he grinned wickedly. It was never a good sign to see him grinning so wide, to say the least.

“Hey, pretty. What’re you doing out here?” He called and you rolled your eyes. No matter how many times you told him you weren’t interested, he kept trying.

“Why don’t you just leave Rafe?” You shot back, getting closer to where the boys were. JJ looked like he was in rough shape, but Rafe had a busted lip that told you the three on one wasn’t as unfair as you had originally thought.

“What would your dad say if he knew you were out here?” Rafe questioned, taking a step towards you. You freaked out for a moment, wondering if he really would tell your dad that he saw you in The Cut. But then you remembered why he was in The Cut.

“What would yours say if he knew?” You hummed, tapping the side of your nose to let him know that you knew his secret about his drug problem. It certainly wasn’t something that he wanted his dad to know about, and you figured that you could use that to get him to leave the blonde alone. Rafe’s eyes widened, and the only sound the broke up the silence of your staring contest with him was the loud laugh JJ let out.

“Come on, guys. We’ll get him another day.” Rafe told Topper and Kelce, as if that wasn’t the most cliche thing he could have said, and the three of them headed to their car. You watched as they left, and when you turned back to JJ, he was seated on the ground.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” JJ called, causing you to roll your eyes as you closed the distance between you and him until he was seated at your feet. You stuck out your hand to help pull him to his feet, and he relented. You tried to ignore the spark that shot through you at his touch, and as soon as he was on his feet he dropped your hand and you were able to think clearly once more.

“Because it sure looked like you had it under control.” You remarked, sarcasm dripping from your words. JJ’s lips quirked up into a smile, and it was then that you noticed the cut on his lip and the bruise that was already forming over his eye. There were more bruises than that forming, and you spotted the cuts on his knuckles. “Do you want a ride home?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine walking.” He waved you off. You had never really talked to him, mostly just admired from your window as he mowed your lawn, but it was surprisingly easy to banter with him. You thought that you’d be a stuttering mess, tripping over your words as a result of just how attractive you found him.

“Come on, I’ll take you anywhere on the island, anything to delay going home just a little bit.” You tried to reason. Your confession caught both of you off guard, and after a beat of silence, JJ relented.

“Do you know where John B lives?” He asked as you both strapped the seatbelts on in the car. His question drew a chuckle out of you, and though it wasn’t inherently funny, you both were grinning as you glanced over at him.

“Do you really think I know where John B lives?” You responded as you pulled out onto the road and just started driving, hoping he’d start giving directions. “I’m not even supposed to be on this side of the island, like, ever.”

“You’re a rebel, huh? Take a left here.” He snickered and you rolled your eyes in good fun. You followed his instructions as you drove through The Cut. You chatted a little bit, though you completely avoided talking about the fight or what could have caused it. And soon enough, you were pulling your much too expensive car in front of a dilapidated house JJ loving referred to as The Chateau.

You recognized the three other teenagers that were waiting on the front porch. You went to school with Kiara, though you had never really talked you had always been friendly. The other two, Pope and John B, you had seen around the island. They all looked confused to see JJ in your car, understandably so, and Pope awkwardly waved.

“Well this is not… weird.” You chuckled nervously. When you looked over at JJ, he was smiling softly at you. You shot him a look, and he seemed to come out of his trance because his head twisted so he was looking forward. When he spotted his friends staring at the two of you, he let out a groan and dropped his head back against the seat.

“Sorry about… all that.” He apologized waving a hand in the direction of his friends that were blatantly staring at you, no doubt talking about why JJ was in your car. You shook your head, silently telling him it wasn’t a problem. You watched as the blonde unbuckled his seatbelt, and you bit your lip as he climbed out of the car.

“Hey, JJ.” You called out just as he turned to shut the door. It felt weird just letting him leave without saying something. Well, the whole night had been weird, if you were being honest with yourself. “Try not to get into any more fights on the side of the road, I can’t always be there to save you.” JJ chuckled, shooting you one last smile and a teasing comment before shutting the door and joining his friend’s.

“No promises.”

TWO

You didn’t see JJ for a few days after dropping him off. Your family kept you busy, between entertaining guests on the family boat and shopping for events you would have to go to later on in the summer.

You’d never admit it, but when you heard a lawn mower start one afternoon while you were sitting in your living room, you jumped out of your seat to see if it was JJ. To your joy, you were greeted by the sight of a familiar head of blonde hair walking the push mower through your front yard when you peeked through the curtains.

Though, immediately after you spotted him, your face flushed with embarrassment as JJ looked to the window and shot you a smirk. You retreated back to your couch, trying to convince yourself that it wasn’t that big of a deal that he had seen you watching him. You tried to focus back on your show, but an hour later JJ was still mowing and you had long since realized you had no idea what was going on with the characters. With a huff, you stood and went to the kitchen, making two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Setting them and two sodas on the serving tray your mother insisted on having, you went to the backyard where JJ had been working.

He didn’t see you as soon as you stepped outside, the mower he was pushing much too loud to hear the door open and close. You took this time to admire him. Clearly, working landscaping had done him several favors. He had stripped himself of his shirt since the last time you had spotted him, and his hair was messed up like he had run his hands through it several times. You were doing your best not to completely melt at the sight, but he wasn’t making it any easier when he finally noticed you and smiled. His dimples were going to be the death of you, you decided right then and there. He shut the mower off, curious about what you wanted.

“Hope you don’t have a peanut allergy.” You smiled at JJ, nodding with your head to the tray in your hands that held the lunches that you had made. He chuckled, abandoning the mower to make his way to you.

“What did I do to deserve this?” He joked, following you to the pool your father insisted you had. You never understood it, considering your house was literally on the water. You set the tray on the ground as you watched him take his boots and socks off, following your lead as you sat on the edge of the pool and stuck your feet in.

“It’s just a PB&J, not a full course meal. Besides, I didn’t want to eat alone.” You shrugged, focusing on opening your soda can instead of the attractive and shirtless boy sitting next to you. He was sitting far enough away that you weren’t pressed against him, but your leg kept brushing against his in the water.

“Triangles? Really?” He chuckled, holding up the sandwich that you had cut in half. You grinned at him, picking up one half of your own sandwich. You were doing a good job at not mentioning the bruises on his face from his brush with Rafe and his groupies, and you could tell that JJ was thankful for it.

“Arguably the best shape for a sandwich.” You told him matter-of-factly. He shook his head with a smile, tapping his PB&J against yours in a silent cheers before taking a bite. You copied his actions, though your bite was much smaller.

“As long as it’s free, I’m in.” He spoke around the food in his mouth and you made a face at him.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” You chastised, though you could only hold your smile back for so long before you were giggling. It didn’t help that he pulled a face, trying to mimic the pout you had been sporting, only making it much more dramatic.

“Sorry I’m not well versed in Kook manners.” He swallowed and shot you a grin. You bumped your leg against his, unable to respond right away as you were sipping your soda.

“That’s not even Kook manners, that’s just manners manners.” You laughed, shaking your head as JJ simply shrugged, taking another bite.

“So did I catch you checking me out when I got here or are we pretending that didn’t happen?” JJ questioned, a smugness to his voice that had you choking on the bite you had taken. You shook your head quickly, suddenly finding the rippling water in the pool much more interesting.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Your matter-of-fact tone was a tad too forced to be convincing, and you busied yourself by taking a sip of your drink as JJ laughed at you. Surprisingly, he left it at that, and the two of you fell back into the same easy banter you experienced the other day when you gave him a ride. By way of miracle, your heart hadn’t beat out of your chest yet, even when you had both finished your lunch and were just sitting on the edge of the pool talking.

“JJ, what are you doing?” The arrival of a new voice—your dad’s—made both you and JJ jump. Though you stayed in your seat, JJ launched to his feet, accidentally splashing water all over your lap. You yelped in shock, and JJ was quick to stumble out an apology. You waved him off, but he was still looking between your dad and you, wide eyed and nervous.

“I’m sorry sir, I was just—” JJ started, but you could tell from your dad’s expression that he was not happy and nothing JJ could say was going to help.

“Dad it’s my fault JJ isn’t working. I made us lunch, I was bored and didn’t want to eat by myself and none of my friends were free to go get something.” You lied. You hadn’t even tried to get a hold of your other friends, too distracted by JJ to even think about going out.

“Don’t let it happen again.” You dad sighed before heading back inside the house. He shot you a look before he left, one that told you he wanted you inside too. You and JJ watched him retreat, waiting until the door shut behind him before looking at each other.

“So I was a last resort, huh?” JJ teased, and you rolled your eyes, pulling your legs out of the water and picking up the remnants of your interrupted lunch to take inside.

“If it gets my dad off your back, then I even asked Rafe to hang out before I came to you.” You joked, enjoying the loud laugh that you got out of JJ. From your tone, it was clear that you were kidding.

“Thank you, uhm, for doing that.” JJ cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck as he watched you start to retreat on the same path your father had just gotten. You smiled, not wanting to make a big deal out of it since JJ was clearly not completely comfortable with being serious. So instead, you decided to make a joke.

“That’s twice now that I’ve saved you, Maybank. Let's try not to go for a third.”

THREE

Parties at The Boneyard were an enigma. It was probably the only time you’d ever be able to see all the teenagers on the island, no matter Kook, Pogue, or Touron, interact with minimal fighting. It was where you could let loose with a drink—or three—and not worry about the drudgeries of daily life catering to your parents' wishes.

You weren’t at the party long before a loud voice you had grown familiar with over the past few days caught your attention. You weren’t surprised his laughter carried across The Boneyard, JJ always had been the life of the party.

You mutter a quick apology to the girl you had been talking to, some Touron that looked completely out of place on the beach, and made your way to where the Pogues had set up. There was a small fire, and Kiara, Pope, John B, and the occasional Touron were sitting around it as JJ jumped about, clearly messing around.

“Hey, Kie.” You greeted the girl as you sat beside her. She smiled at you, though the grin she shot in her blonde friend’s direction was much more devious. She opened her mouth to say something to you, but JJ seemed to notice your arrival and let out a cheer of your name as he made his way around the fire to stand at your feet.

“M’lady, fancy seeing you here.” JJ spoke over whatever Kiara had been saying in response. You giggled, watching him dramatically bow to you as his words slightly slurred. He was clearly, at the very least, tipsy. “How did you get out of the castle?”

“Snuck out the back door, the king will never know I’m gone.” You played along, referencing your dad that had been long asleep by the time you had snuck out. JJ’s grin widened at your comment, and a hint of mischief shone in his eyes.

“If I had a princess as pretty as you, I’d never let her out of my sight.” The alcohol must have made him flirty, because that was the most forward he had ever been with you. There definitely had been some implied flirting in your previous encounters, but never as blatant as what he had just said. The other Pogues noticed too, because John B threw his empty cup at him.

“Sit down, casanova.” Kiara called, and you were too flustered to see the smirk she was wearing. Pope and John B started making kissing sounds at each other, clearly making fun of JJ. You would have found it much more entertaining if your mind wasn’t racing to try and figure out if JJ’s and their actions meant something more than drunken flirting and teasing between close friends. You were dragged from your thoughts, though, when JJ dropped into the spot beside you, a little closer than probably need be.

“Sorry about them.” He apologized and you waved him off. You pulled your legs to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and resting your chin on your knee as JJ leaned back on his hands.

“Still better than the people I’m supposed to hang out with.” You grinned, nodding your head in the direction of a group of Kook boys that were very clearly failing at picking up some Touron girls.

“You got me there.” He chuckled, turning from the Kooks to look into the fire. He seemed to have sobered up a bit, but conversation around the fire had broken off into groups, leaving JJ and you to chat.

“So, you think I’m pretty?” You questioned, a hint of amusement in your voice. You’d be lying if you said there weren’t any ulterior moments to your question. You wanted to know if there was any deeper meaning to his comment. You glanced at JJ to find him already looking at you, an unreadable emotion in his eyes and just as he opened his mouth to say something, a different and wholly unwelcomed voice called your name.

“What do you want, Topper.” You groaned, watching as the poster boy for Kooklandia grinned smugly at you as he sat down on the other side of the fire.

“I was just coming to say hi, make sure none of these Pogues were bothering you.” He commented off-handedly, as if he wasn’t at a party put on by JJ and his friends and that they weren’t sitting five feet away from him.

“Oh, fuck off.” You rolled your eyes at him. JJ sat up, and you could see him tense. You knew he had a temper, but you didn’t want anything to ruin the night. Besides, when Topper didn’t have Rafe breathing down his neck, he was all bark and no bite, and other than Kelce lingering back a ways, he was alone.

“So have you decided yet who’s going to escort you to my mom’s garden party next weekend?” Topper asked in his infuriating way. His mom’s party was like a Midsummers, only slightly smaller and much more uptight.

“No one is escorting me. I’m going by myself if I can’t convince my parents to let me skip.” You knew there was very little chance of you being able to bail on this event considering just how concerned your parents were about their image, but you didn’t want JJ to think you were seeing someone. Being escorted to a Kook party was practically a declaration that you were dating, and even though you and JJ were just friends, you had developed a crush on him and didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

You glanced at the blonde sitting next to you, his jaw tight as he practically glared daggers at Topper. You spared yourself a second to admire how attractive he looked, even if he was probably ready to throttle Topper for being a jackass. The way the fire lit of his features was doing wonders, and part of you wished for a camera so you could capture the moment.

“It’s probably for the best, you’ve been hanging out with Pogues too much.” He was talking out of his ass, Topper had no clue how much time you had spent with JJ—only a couple of run ins—but the comment was enough to send John B into action.

“Why don’t you just leave, huh?” The brunette questioned, and Topper raised his hands as if he was claiming innocence. He stood and turned to go, but not before shooting you one last infuriatingly smug grin.

“See you back on Figure Eight, yeah?” And then he was gone, leaving you with little more than annoyance and a bitter taste in your mouth. JJ didn’t look much happier, if anything, he looked as if he was contemplating chasing after Topper and making him pay. On instinct, you reached a hand out and rested it on his forearm, giving him a reassuring squeeze and a smile before resuming your previous position. The action seemed to calm him down some, and you were thankful for it.

“Well, he’s charming.” Pope was the first to break the silence that followed after Topper’s departure. You grinned at him, ignoring the annoyed huff JJ let out from beside you.

“Trust me, I’d much rather hang out with you guys than go to another Kook party and suck up to my parents’ friends.” You sighed, looking into the fire. Kiara hummed from next to you, nudging you with her elbow before agreeing with you, a grin on her face.

“I’ll drink to that.”

FOUR

The country club was most definitely the last place you wanted to be. But after one too many nights out, your parents weren’t letting you skip out on the fancy dinner being held there for members.

You were dressed to the nines: a new outfit, styled hair, and more makeup than you were used to wearing around the island. But your parents were happy, and you knew that would buy you a few more weeks of free roam of the island without being questioned every time you left the house.

Because if they knew you were hanging out on The Cut with the boy that mowed their lawn, they would not be happy.

You had been spending more time with the blonde, and even though most of the time some of the other Pogues were there, you managed to sneak in some alone time with him. Nothing ever came of it, your interactions were platonic, but there was always a feeling as if there was something more behind every joke and lingering look shared.

He had mentioned that he was working as a server for the event, and that was quite frankly the only reason that you weren’t dragging your feet as you approached the entrance with your family. You smiled politely at your dad’s work buddies and answered all the questions ranging from schooling to your love life thrown at you by members of your mom’s social club.

It seemed like an eternity later that you made it to your table, but you still hadn’t spotted the familiar blonde that never failed to make your heart race. Your family was one of the later ones to arrive, so the place was already a bit packed, but that didn’t stop you from searching the crowd for JJ.

“Who are you looking for, dear?” Your mother questioned as you both sat down. She shot the waiter a fake smile, one you knew was reserved for wait staff and employees as he set glasses of water in front of everyone.

“Sarah Cameron, we were going to meet up here.” You lied easily. You were friends with Sarah before hanging out with her boyfriend and his friends, but you had grown much closer since then. Still, you hadn’t talked with her about the dinner party you were at other than a brief conversation about if the other was going.

“I saw her over there, you can go look for her if you’d like.” You didn’t need to be told twice, not giving your mom a chance to take back her offer before you jumped to your feet. You pushed through the crowd in the general direction that she had pointed out, though the blonde you were searching for wasn’t the one that you told your parents.

You had just about given up your search, turning down a hallway that led out of the main dining area and away from your parents’ prying eyes, when a hand grabbed your arm from behind. Your first reaction was to tug your arm back, but you stopped when you spun on your heel and saw who it was.

“Easy there, killer.” JJ grinned at you. Your breath caught in your throat as you catalogued what he was wearing. You were used to cut off tank tops and cargo shorts with boots and messy hair, but now he was in a white button up and black dress pants. He wore a black vest with a matching tie. Even his hair looked like he had put gel in it. “Where are you running off to?”

“Basically anywhere away from my parents.” You laughed. On more than one occasion you had ranted to him about how overbearing your parents could be, and he only made jokes about how hard your Kook life was every other time.

“Still a rebel, I see.” He chuckled. You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile his words brought on. It was a common theme whenever you hung out with him, he’d be able to make you laugh with one easy joke and all your problems would be forgotten.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working? I don’t think teasing the guests is a part of the job description.” You teased back, heart soaring as you watched his smile widen. You knew how much he liked that you could hold your own against his comments. He knew he could be a bit much to handle, but you had never once thought he was annoying.

“I gotta pass the time somehow.” He flashed one of his famous grins that made you weak in the knees. You smiled at him, watching as something changed in his eyes. He was looking at you softer now, before his gaze dropped to the floor and he cleared his throat. “You look, uhm, really good.”

“Not so bad yourself, you know. Though, your usual style is also good.” You grinned, boldly taking a step closer to him and reaching up to adjust his tie. His eyes snapped up to meet yours, and you noticed a red tinge to his cheeks as he gave you a small smile.

“What are you doing with my daughter?” Once more the addition of a new voice made you and JJ jump apart, only to find your dad and Rafe standing on the other side of the hallway.

“Dad! We were just talking—” You started rambling out an explanation, knowing just by the look on his face that he was not happy. Worst of all, Rafe was standing right beside him with one of the smuggest grins you had ever seen.

“I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want you sneaking around with Pogues. I’m glad Rafe came and got me when he saw you leaving.” Your dad interrupted, making your cheeks flush in both anger and embarrassment that he would say something like that, especially in front of JJ.

“It was no problem, sir.” Rafe sucked up to your dad, and you narrowed your eyes at him. You weren’t sure what kind of satisfaction he got out of being an ass, but he was grinning and standing a step behind your father.

“I want you back at the table.” Your dad pointed to you, and you bit the inside of your cheek to hold back any comment that could have gotten you into more trouble. Then he turned his attention to JJ, the look in his eyes clearly holding some hostility. “And you, young man, get back to work before I report to your boss. And stay away from my daughter.”

“Yes, sir.” JJ spoke. You glanced at him, noticing the way his jaw was tight and gaze set on the ground. You could only watch as he walked away, and you sent a glare at Rafe who was still smirking like he had just accomplished his life’s goal.

You frowned at your dad, but he didn’t show a hint of remorse for his behavior. You huffed, following JJ’s path past your parents. You purposefully knocked your shoulder into Rafe’s as you passed, and even though he was much sturdier than you, you still felt some satisfaction as a result of the petty action.

“I can’t believe you.”

PLUS ONE

JJ kept his head low and avoided your family’s table for the rest of the party, and you felt terrible about everything. So, the next morning, you set out to find him and apologize for the way your father had acted.

You figured you could find him at The Chateau, and you weren’t surprised to see him and the rest of the Pogues already hanging around the yard. Kiara waved as she spotted your car pull up, but JJ shot to his feet to greet you.

“What are you doing here?” He questioned, clearly still wary about what your dad had said the night before.

“I wanted to say sorry, for what happened last night.” You bit your bottom lip, nervous about how he might take it. JJ wasn’t a guy that showed his true emotions often, but you had been able to tell that your dad’s comments had upset him.

“What happened?” John B called from where the Pogues had been sitting, and even though you were still a distance from where they were gathered, they were listening in.

Instead of answering, JJ grabbed your hand and led you away from his friends and to the end of the dock. Your hand was warm from where he was holding it, and you deflated a bit as he let it go once you were far enough from his friends.

“You don’t have to apologize, it wasn’t your fault.” JJ mumbled, but you shook your head.

“He was really awful, and I just wish he wasn’t such a jerk to you.” You huffed, and after a moment JJ nodded, running a hand through his hair. Although you still felt bad about what had happened, you were willing to accept his response, not wanting to push him. You shifted awkwardly on your feet, not sure where to take the conversation. “You know, the two minutes I was talking to you was better than the entire night.”

“Are you hitting on me?” JJ teased, his usual carefree demeanor coming out. You rolled your eyes, though you were smiling. His comment threw you off for a moment, but you quickly recovered with a grin.

“I mean yeah, but I’ve just been waiting for you to make a move.” Your comment must have spurred him on, because his familiar unreadable expression shone in his eyes and then he was surging forward to close the distance between the two of you.

You had resided yourself to the fact that he would never make a move on you, but now here he was, one hand loosely wrapped around the back of your neck to gently hold you in place and his lips pressed against yours.. He caught you off guard, but it took only seconds for you to reciprocate the kiss and grip the front of his sweatshirt tightly. Slowly, you parted, but you didn’t go far. His hand that was on the back of your neck moved to cup your jaw, his thumb softly brushing against your cheek and his rings cold against your skin.

“That was… unexpected.” You laughed breathily, honestly still reeling from the kiss. You were blocking out the cheers from the rest of the Pogues, Kiara’s ‘I called it!’ falling on deaf ears as you and JJ were lost in each other. “Kinda wish you would’ve done that sooner though.” Your comment was just supposed to be a joke, but something in JJ’s eyes softened, and you knew that there was something affecting him. You furrowed your brows in a silent question, leaning slightly into his hand that was still holding you.

“It’s just… when I first met you I had just gotten into a fight. And then every time I kept running into you I was reminded why I wasn’t, I dunno, good enough for you.” He confessed. You melted at his words, wondering how something so sweet could be so sad. You reached up and grabbed his hand, bringing it to your lips and pressing several small kisses to his fingers.

“Okay, well, I thought it was a known fact that nobody ever listens to anything Topper or Rafe says.” You joked, and this time JJ cracked a grin as he finally looked up and met your gaze. “Seriously, J, I don’t care what anyone thinks about you. I like you, and that’s what matters to me.”

“Aw, do you have a crush on me?” JJ cooed, his jovial side coming back. You rolled your eyes, but grinned wider as you locked your hands behind his head and his own fell to your waist. With a gentle tug, he had you closer to him than you were before.

“You kissed me first, so I think you have a crush on me.” You teased in retaliation. JJ leaned in, lips brushing against yours as he spoke, grin never once leaving either of your faces.

“Damn right I do.”

[404fmdminjung]

lyrical and composition verification for holo

summary: she plays the dusty keyboard for the first time in years, and comes out of a song that becomes a pseudo-‘fuck you’ to gold star. yet, it’s still something she can’t sing to herself as she doesn’t fully believe the words herself. but she has someone in mind, specifically — @fmdjiah​ warnings: alcohol tw, and i don’t even know if this is too ‘technical’ to be a composition but w/e going with it wc: 1710

summer in seoul — she can look out the windows, see how the sun kisses the silhouette of buildings that kiss the fronts in muted pinks. somewhere around the world, it’s midnight where the moon shines and invites another drink into warming her body. minjung takes herself to that place, indulgence in drinks that leave her head bobbing through the air — because it’s midnight somewhere. 

tonight, she feels a little out of place — the grip of the paintbrush doesn’t feel like home, not inviting as it once was a month ago. she could pin point mistakes to a schedule ablaze with musical promotions that have too many cameras and little cheer. a career that seems to plummet itself to the grave she’s dug. or just maybe, it’s the effect of coaxed beliefs that she swallows — the idea that being alone is something that feels like home. but she knows in reality, home isn’t alone, nor is the idea of solitude where the grapevines of bordeaux the solution to anything other than blurred mistakes and burning lines of regret.

she thinks it’s hapless — lost in the monotony of self-destruction. but she doesn’t bother to trigger a change in one way or another. instead, comes a wave of burgundy stained lips, legs crossed with a blank stare to the buildings that now melt to the baby blue wash of the arising moon. she blinks, displaced thoughts — a tilt in her head, and now the view of a lonely keyboard in a corner sits. and for the first time, the glass slips out of her fragile palms as her feet glide over towards the lonelier looking set of keys. 

there’s a notebook on the side, a 500 won pen she’s picked up from the corner bookstore. a memory that precedes the first time she’s ever written for herself — a thought that pulls the edges of her lips into a smirk, or maybe it’s just the effect of the alcohol. but she picks up the pen, spreading open the canvas of blank paper to write down something filter-free, the first pick into her mind.

‘is it really that hard to be alone to be completely still?  with people, or by myself i think i’m always lonely.’

it’s funny to think that the words of honesty come to reveal themselves earlier on — the feeling of loneliness masking her, covering her whole. she asks herself this question at three points in the day. the morning when she wakes up in a lonely bed, filled with the slivers of sunlight that peek through her curtain. in the middle, when she’s surrounded by a bustling staff and giddy members — drowning in the chatter that mangles itself into white noise. and the end of the day — when the end ends with the clinks of a bottle against a sole wine glass in the middle of her apartment.

and she believes the only words anyone wants to hear at that point — one day it will stop.

the words press themselves hard against the paper, or perhaps it’s her own will to believe the words now physically represented by the force of the pen on paper. she could tell herself a million and one things, never once to believe or swallow the truth of the statements. an age half of fifty, yet will all the time passed — she can’t necessarily bring herself to face the reflection of the words. so, she continues on with the theme that circles around her mind.

‘isn’t everything supposed to be as easy as you think and say? even sitting in the sun and breathing doesn’t seem to help.’

it strikes an uncanny belief in her head — the ideation that taking in the simple pleasures day to day comes as an easy feat. in theory, the great minds and her heart could tell her, lecture her into believing each day will become easier. yet, nothing ever comes as easy as the simple calculations that words simplify actions to. and she thinks to herself again, that believing the words ‘one day it will stop.’ 

it’s not love that makes her feel like this, no. it’s not the cracks of past lovers digging their claws deep in unpolished wounds exacerbating every clean cut image. it’s the idea of comparisons, the unnerved inability to satiate the money hungry woes of chart toppers and idealized ‘popularity’ that ranks high in the charts. 

it’s the flood of netizens that use their words like weapons, piercing deep into the tracks that engulfed her heart and soul. ‘a flop’ ‘a shit lead vocal.’ — she nods, laughs. howls underneath the images of how many people love to pick and piece apart her name inside the industry.

‘and i’m gonna stop crying, stop feeling, stop thinking about you. i’m gonna stop crying, and start putting myself first.’

she’s never given a second thought of keeping herself first — always on the verge of terror staged destruction wrecking havoc on those around her, leaving her trapped inside the devastation. it’s the need to rub salt on open wounds, make it hurt where it already aches. make it stand on the edge of a walking time bomb. and maybe, it’s the reason why gold star sees her as the standard doormat of a failed science experiment. a toy they hold high over her heads, the rationale for every step they push her towards.

‘her vs. me, me vs. her — what’s important to see who’s better? after i suffered a lot, i’m starting to get it. but i’m too important to myself to sit still and worry. take a look inside without a cover, you’re fine the way you are.’

it sounds cliche to write the words — she doesn’t believe it, no. but she wishes she could. because deep down seo minjung knows who the soul residing in her body is — a fragmented girl, afraid of the world. masking away anyone that approaches in fear that they’ll flee first. comparisons, one after another — one that pinpoints her to nothing. it doesn’t matter to her — it’s shit. the comparisons are shit. there’s nothing that aches more than suffering with the constant bereavement of being a second-hand choice or a second-staged puppet for someone else. 

—

it’s a funny image to see herself next to a muted keyboard — a makeshift desk for her words. but as on cue, the striking mirror image of herself juxtaposed into the ink pressed hard against the paper goes too much, and her body flees. retreats to the keys — button pressed on and the low start of the keyboard. 

she’s six when she’s introduced to the ivory whites and blacks, centered in the steinway and sons grand piano in her house — the second house in boston. the theory of progression of chords — three in a row, not at the same time. back straight, both feet pressed to the bottom. tiny fingers barely stretched across a sixth, and now she’s twenty five, surpassing an octave and barely reaching a tenth across the keys.

but despite the memories that flood of youthful hourly lessons four times a week, comes the ringing idea of the words that blare from the notepad in the corner of her eyes. if words had melodies, these words might have been a steady legato on the second octave. a chord progression, strictly arpeggio — her old piano teacher would’ve proud that she’d held onto these facts as a keepsake.

she doesn’t want to keep it major because she’s learned that the happiest of classical songs present in major keys — the somber melodies of majority of beethoven and liszt contain themselves in minor. a first few seconds, and the emotional bang hits front and center into the ears.

she hums to herself the first few words of being alone — a longing pull, a drag. a simple chord, not spanning an octave. her favorite chord, an f minor and a progression into d. it sounds lonely, it sounds sad. it sounds like her — she keeps it mezzo-piano, jots that down before the thought slips past. her voice sings the words, a few octaves too low for her range. yet, she forces it through with the gentle lilt of the chord, and then back down to the switch to d minor

it continues, and she drawls the keys to the words that read themselves out from the corner of her eyes. years of an untouched piano, and muscle memory comes back to haunt her — in a good way, this time. automated movements, a pendulum movement of something slow-paced and soft.

but she thinks that the dreary pace of slow stretches of chords become boring for a song about enlightenment, and seo minjung is no little bitch to stay still and complacent. no. she wants the words to hit in the middle just as the realizations barged through her the second they scrawled themselves on paper. the crescendo comes, and she wants it to go full force, loud — ff, she makes note of that. arpeggio no longer cuts it, and her fingers press against the keys — three notes, one time. a solid chord, staccatos released. 

she wants to shift it to major, an ode to her ‘fuck you’ song. but the stark contrast from major to minor is an artwork that she leaves to the masterminds of the past. 

she keeps it in the minor, two octaves higher — sounds have a tendency to have a ‘coming of age’ thought when it becomes brighter and clearer. but comes the thought to switch from a harmonic interval to a chord, a back-and-forth wobble of uncertainty posing across the keys. 

in her mind, she’s mozart inside the familial archways of classical musicians. except, she’s playing a reemergence in an a song she can’t pigeon hole into any niche. it’s not an experimental sound, nor is it anything that she sings herself outside of the privacy of her walls — it’s something still -ing in the process. 

—

it’s not a song she wants to wallow in silence or submerge inside the privacy of her notebook. it’s a song she wants sung, blared — even if it doesn’t stem from her feeble voice. she imagines the voice to stem from a gritty voice that can bleed emotion. someone who doesn’t crumble with the words said because she knows if she’d ever sing it, she’d fall to the ground and grace the world with pictures of tear stained eyes and a breach into the facade she’s created. 

and she’s aware — she’s a coward. hiding behind someone else’s voice for words she can’t face head-on.

so, the last thing she scribbles down is the one voice that comes to her mind — ‘jiah from bee’. hopes and wishes for the sole voice to be the only voice to sing the song written and crafted from her heart.

[hundesumpf]

Do you have any tips for building a mori wardrobe? Like basics and essential items. I'm just starting out and I feel like I am all over the place.

For starters, I’d say the most important aspect of building any wardrobe is to find three or four anchor items which you absolutely adore. These are versatile items that can be mixed with other items in your wardrobe to create various outfits. These should be fairly basic, though I personally prefer a little personality in my anchors to spice up some of the more boring items in my wardrobe. I’d recommend starting with a tiered skirt in a light color and a neutral-colored vest or cardigan as anchors for the Mori style.

I’d also recommend staying with three key colors at the start. This will make it easier to coordinate items until you’ve built a larger wardrobe. I personally try to stay away from pure white and recommend natural or unbleached cotton or linen as a good option for base layers. If you prefer the Dark Mori style, simply substitute blacks and dark greys for your base. Greens, browns, and greys are all fairly easy to coordinate as well and combine easily with either Light or Dark Mori.

I’ve included some pictures of various types of garments I consider essential to any Mori wardrobe:

1. Tiered Maxi Skirt: This is the base layer for many feminine coordinates

(https://www.lyst.com/clothing/free-people-tea-tiered-maxi-skirt/)(delisted skirt by free people - highly suggest sewing one instead or shopping thrift)

2. Accent Skirt: This can be worn over the tiered skirt or alone. These skirts usually have faux layering or lace accents.

(https://www.etsy.com/shop/GreenTrunkDesigns?ref=l2-shopheader-name)

3. Accent Vest: This is essential for livening up otherwise uninteresting tops. Coordinate with an accent skirt in a similar style for extra pizazz.

(https://www.aliexpress.com/item/Mori-Girl-Lace-Ruffles-Casual-Fairy-Vest-Jacket-Brandy-Women-Slim-Lace-Vest-Cardigan-Novelty-Clothing/32647880927.html)

4. Knickers: These are usually a thin linen pant with large lace detailing at the bottom. These can be worn under a skirt or dress, or with a coordinated shirt as pants if they’re thick enough. I have a pair that I consider an anchor to my wardrobe.

(https://www.ebay.com/cln/fionapetunia/shabby-chic-mori-girl/87059143019)

5. Overalls: I understand these aren’t everyone’s speed, but I adore overalls. Opt for a loose fitting pair in cotton or linen for a Mori look.

(https://m.aliexpress.com/item/32830221073.html)

6. Lace-edged tank top: The key with this garment is to find one that’s loose fitting and relatively long. I have one similar to this as an anchor.

(http://www.wish.com/search/mori%20girl#cid=5923db899009d70e4319514f)

7. Accent Dress: Admittedly, most of the accent dresses I like are produced by overseas brands and don’t come in my size, so I don’t have many, but I do find them to be fairly versatile as they can be combined with different base layers and outerwear. The closest analog I’ve found in the states is Altar’d State, but I recommend waiting for their semi-annual sales as they can be quite expensive.

(http://www.wish.com/search/mori%20girl#cid=5a23a861ff96b63a12750a7c)

8. Accessories!! This is my favorite part tbh. Whether you want to dress to a feminine or fantasy aesthetic, the accessories always make the outfit. Some essentials I recommend include:

a. Oxfords and a sturdy pair of boots (especially if you’re the traipse-through-the-woods kind of Mori)

(https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/371617406721758616/?lp=true)(found on pinterest, linked back to tumblr search that did not return the original image; these appear to be vintage minnetonkas or a similar brand)

b. Scarves and Gloves - these can either be heavy and warm for winter or light and airy for warmer months

(https://www.instagram.com/p/BddC2xPF7hz/)

c. Quirky socks, tights, and boot toppers - these add interest with pants or shorter skirts, and boot toppers add layering.

(https://item.taobao.com/auction/noitem.htm?itemid=35152793255&catid=0&spm=2013.1.w4004-3978132534.8.IKnJ0B&spm=2013.1.w4004-3978132534.8.IKnJ0B)

!!!! BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY !!!!

Have fun with it!

Mori is, to me, an artistic expression of yourself, and everyone’s individual style allows that to shine through. There’s not any one way to wear Mori Kei, and there certainly isn’t a “right” or “wrong” way to do so. Don’t be afraid of change, and don’t be too critical of yourself. The Mori community has been nothing but kind and supportive in my experience, and will offer advise or constructive criticism if you reach out to them.

I hope this helps!

[blueyesandleatherjacket]

Ghost of you, 18/?

Volume: 1.

Number of parts: 18/?.

Pairings: Human!Nine x Rose; Human!Ten x Jack; Clara Oswald x Olivia Baxter (OC).

Synopsis: "All she could see through her teary eyes was the body of the man who once was her friend laying on the ground surrounded by bloody pieces of gauzes. It made her heart more painful and her guilt crushed her. She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to see this anymore. She couldn’t handle it any longer."

A/N: I've started writing this fiction last year after I had a particularly weird dream (as usual) and after I wrote the prologue, I've put it aside to work on other stuff. I've gone back to it not so long ago and decided that it would be the fiction I would post next, after not posting anything for a while. I must have watched I am legend and Game of thrones way too much to come out with something like this but I hope you will like it. I am not a scientist, nor did I have a particular knowledge of sciences. I do my researches on the internet like everyone to make sure everything is as close to the reality as possible. I have a literature degree only. Writing is what I do and it makes me explore next fields, and learn new things.

“Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.” - Norman Cousins.

CHAPTER 18:

Liv was devastated and no one could blame her for this. They could blame her for everything else but not for being devastated. It was all her fault. She had been the first one in the cage and she had thought she could do it. She had thought she could do the impossible. She had thought that she could actually save the man who saved her years ago… She had miserably failed. Maxence Spitz had died while she was trying to save him. His brain and body hadn’t been able to handle the struggle anymore. Piercing holes in his skull had been the last straw. Now, Liv had her hands covered with his blood, blood that she was spreading on her suit as she rocked herself. Tears were clouding her sight and sobs were making it hard for her to breathe. She couldn’t care less. She didn’t deserve to live when she had killed her friend. “Liv?” All she could see through her teary eyes was the body of the man who once was her friend laying on the ground surrounded by bloody pieces of gauzes. It made her heart more painful and her guilt crushed her. She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to see this anymore. She couldn’t handle it any longer. “Liv!” She could hear his voice now but she didn’t react to it. It was her grief speaking. Just a memory in a spectral form. It was no way to remember this fantastic man. She preferred keeping the precious memories of him smiling and laughing, the priceless image of the man who took her out of the orphanage when she was sixteen, the picture of him bruised after he got involved in a fight with his biological father who was responsible for her rape, for her miscarriage and her now inability to carry children. She remembered the many nights spent on the phone with him because she couldn’t sleep without nightmares, the many times he came over so she wouldn’t be alone and do something she would regret later. “Olivia!” She ignored the sound of his voice, ignored her full name – he was the only one allowed to use it but usually never did – ignored his hands on her shoulders shaking her. It was all part of an hallucination. A metaphor of her devastation. She wished it could be a nightmare she would wake up from. It would be easier to handle the death of the man who had saved her, to handle the fact that when she was given the chance to, she couldn’t save his life. She was a failure and he was gone forever. How could she ever cope with this? “Liv, please!” He was begging her now. What was she supposed to do? Ignore him, replied her reason. And she did. She shut her eyes even tighter and rocked herself faster as he was shaking her to make her leave her autistic condition. “Don’t give up on me now.” The voice was different. It should be more like an echo but it was somehow normal. The accent wasn’t the right one either. Londoner accent with a bit of Scottishness behind. It wasn’t Maxence but Tegan. She wasn’t having hallucinations. It was her new boss shaking her and calling her. And she still wasn’t reacting. “Olivia, please, look at me.” The hands moved from her shoulders to her protected face. They were cold, imprisoned into covers of latex gloves. Sterilised. Everything here was too sterilised. Even death was too clean in this place. It was oppressing and she already couldn’t breathe. Her green eyes met worried crinkled brown ones. Tegan. He was forcing her to connect back to reality but she didn’t want to. “You did everything right, Liv.” He was trying to reassure her but it was useless. She knew well that what she had done wasn’t right. It hadn’t saved Maxence. How could it be right when he was dead? She could never believe it. She could never forgive herself. “His brain was suffering from that pressure. You had no other choice.” She had had the choice. She had had the choice of doing things right for once and not screwing everything up as usual. What would Rose think of her now? She was the one who murdered her husband. “You saved his life, Olivia. You saved him.” Liv blinked at those words and she looked at Tegan for the very first time since he had been trying to reach her. How could she have saved him? Tegan was explaining her that drilling holes on his skull relieved the brain from the pressure killing him. Those holes hadn’t had any consequence. Tegan had cleaned the area and finished the improvised surgery. Maxence now had a bandage around his head and his chest was slowly rising and falling. On top of it, he had his eyes open and his hand was trying to reach hers. He was thankful that she had been there to save him. Finally, she reacted. She caught his hand, she squeezed it tight and cried harder. He was alive. She hadn’t failed. Relief filled her and this time, the tears that flowed on her cheeks were tears of happiness. But he wasn’t in the clear yet. “Mickey and Zach are installing a full medical unit in here. We’ll keep an eye on him at all time. We are very close, Liv.” Close. But close to what? Find a cure? She was losing all hope about this. Maxence wasn’t gonna hold on for too long. After his heart, it had been his brain. If it happened again, he would die. She wouldn’t be able to save him once again. “I need to run new scans on him. Can you help me?” Liv acquiesced slowly as her mind was restarting. She was trying to recover her calm but the strong emotions had her drained physically and emotionally. She would need a topper. She didn’t even know if they had any in this building. She would have to ask Rory. But first, she needed to get off this suit. The visor of her helmet was steamy and she felt claustrophobic. She needed to breathe fresh air. “Dear God, Liv! Are you alright?” Clara. Clara had run to her and Liv felt guilty for forgetting her in the numerous reasons why she had to keep on fighting, why she had to stay alive. Clara Oswald, her girlfriend, the woman she loved deeply. The brunette fell to her knees and checked for any sign of physical wounds before hugging her so tight against her that the doctor felt her lungs be purged of all their air. Tegan cleared his throat. “Clara.” “Oh. Yes. Sure. Of course. The crate’s there. We can go.” Tegan got up, leaving the two women to pull themselves back together. He unlocked the crate and opened it. Maxence was still conscious but he clearly was groggy. He wasn’t aware of what was going on and he wouldn’t like it when he would realise where they were taking him. He hadn’t liked it the first time. There was no reason for him to like it now. Tegan transferred his mentor’s body in the crate. Maxence didn’t protest or fight him. The crate was locked again with him inside and Liv and Clara helped Tegan to carry it to the scanner zone. Maxence didn’t react either when they pulled him out of the crate and lay him down on the table for the scanner. They tied him down, just in case, but he was so calm it was scary. The scan was specially to check the damages his brain might be suffering from with this attack. Liv was hiccuping when they settled down in the monitors’ room. While Tegan was busy with the machine, Clara pulled off the top of her hazmat suit and did the same for Liv. Her poor girlfriend was shaking like a leaf. She was holding on to the nerves but the latest blow in her shield had seriously rattled her. Clara was afraid she might not hold on anymore. She cupped her cheek tenderly but the doctor got no reaction. “Talk to me, Livie. Please.” Liv blinked at the sound of her girlfriend’s voice and looked up at her. She realised that she was holding back her breath when she started seeing black dots. She released it. She hadn’t noticed what she was doing, hadn’t noticed that Clara was there by her side and talking to her and touching her. She opened her mouth but no word came out. Her mind was as empty as a blank sheet. “You’ve done what you had to do. He’s okay.” “No visible damages on the scans. No more pressure on the brain. He’s in the clear for now.” It should have been relieving to Liv but she couldn’t find it in herself. For now. They were all aware that the next fit would be the last. His strengths were lessening. Their hope too. He was being obedient, wasn’t moving in the scanner but he was suffering. Tegan could see it on the scans. The pain was overwhelming him. He didn’t say it to the women. No need to add more on Liv’s shoulders. He sent the results to his computer and erased them from this monitor. “Help me bring him back and settling him down in the cage. After that, Liv, you’re off duty.” “But…” she began. “There’s no buts. I want you to rest and to have a chat with the doctor Burnley. You’ll get back to work only if she says you’re able to.” Liv wasn’t happy with that decision. She hated therapists like everyone did. Tegan couldn’t know about the past ones she had seen though. None of them had helped her like Maxence. She doubted Amy Burnley would be of any help to her but it was an order and she had to do it, even if she didn’t want to.

x

“Rose, you can’t keep that to yourself. You need to speak with someone.” Rose sighed but didn’t stop what she was doing. The moment they had been told that Maxence was in the clear, she had run back to her office and taken the piles of paper waiting for her. It was all the formulas Maxence and her had found so far. She had to compare them, found their flaws and sent them to Tegan for approval. It had to be done before the next day ended. Her heart was telling her that Maxence wouldn’t have the strength to fight the noctiagus any longer. “I don’t have time to speak. I have to study all of this.” “We can do both.” “No. I have to focus entirely on these papers.” “Your husband just died in this cage.” “And the fact it happened means we have less time than expected.” “I’ve seen him too.” Rose grabbed a red pen, trying to ignore Amy’s voice. She needed to work on this formula and find the reason why none of them was right. They were in something but there was that mistake somewhere that was slowing down their progress. She wouldn’t sleep or eat until she found this stupid mistake and made everything clearer. However, the therapist’s words stopped her hand before it started writing on the blank sheet of paper she had pulled out of a drawer. Sometimes writing by hand was better than any computer. “What?” Rose turned around to face Amy. Was she mocking her? It would be very unfair of her especially after what they spoke about earlier. She was in no mood for this shit. “After you ran out of the room, I saw him. His ghost. He wanted me…” Her voice trailed off. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to tell that to Rose after all. Maybe she should just shut the hell up. But now that she had started her sentence, Rose wanted to know. She was waiting for the end of that sentence and Amy was so thankful for this unexpected friendship Rose had offered her that she couldn’t ruin it all now. She bit her bottom lip nervously before she spoke again. “After my son died, I’ve prayed for him to be back in one way or another but it never happened. I kept seeing his shadow or hear echoes of his voice but that was just the manifestation of my grief.” “He died happy, knowing you loved him.” “Maybe that’s why. I’ve never found the reason but I keep looking for him everyday.” Rose dropped the pen on her desk and walked closer to Amy. She took her hand and squeezed it gently. She wanted to know what was the link with Maxence but she knew better than to bring the talk back to her. Amy really needed to let those feelings and thoughts out and speak to someone. “Before I even saw him, I knew you were speaking with him, that he was saying goodbye.” It had shattered her heart to see this and be unable of even helping. She had wished to have had this chance with her son and husband but she never had. And then, Maxence came and told her that her William was watching over her all the time. Now everything felt different and upsetting to her. She didn’t know how to deal with that. “He wanted me to take care of you, to stop you from doing something stupid. He made me promise.” “He didn’t even know you. How could he?” Rose’s voice was soft. She wasn’t judging. She was quietly listening to Amy and trying to understand the situation. She wasn’t mad at her either. She did believe her actually. “He’s met my William:” The sob in her voice was clear and Rose felt her own tears come back to her eyes. She hugged Amy and rubbed her back. The therapist was stiff in her arms but she would relax eventually. She just wasn’t used to hugs, nor was she used to have a friend. “He said my boy was watching over me, that he was happy that I was making friends.” Maxence barely knew Amy. He had never met her boy either. William never came here, in London so… it meant that Maxence really had crossed the line for a moment. That simple idea was terrifying for Rose and she had to master the overwhelming fear sneaking under her skin. Amy needed comfort as much as she did. They were all emotionally exhausted and soon enough, something tragic would happen. She could feel it in her core. If it wasn’t Maxence, then who? “Your son can be proud of you, doctor. You’re helping us all to make progress and you make some yourself. Help me find this cure and save the world, Amy, and we’ll sit down around a drink to speak about him all you want to.” Amy could have taken it wrong. The turn of Rose’s sentence could have made her think that she only wanted to get rid of her moment of sadness to work on the cure quicker. Maybe it was, but her words meant a lot to Amy. No one ever offered her to speak about her little boy. So much time had passed and she was starting to forget the features of his face despite the pictures, the sound of his voice and of his laugh despite the videos, his smell, the feeling of his skin against hers, the feeling of his arms hugging her. She swallowed her sobs. She desperately needed to speak about her little boy but he was gone. He didn’t need any saving anymore. Maxence did. The world did. So she broke the hug and rolled up the sleeves of her shirt. “Where do we start?” Rose gave her a smile but there was so much sadness in it that Amy knew she felt bad for pushing that talk to later. If Maxence’s life hadn’t been in the scales, she would have sat down and listened to her without any delay. That simple fact warmed her heart and she was even more willing to work on that cure. She didn’t have much acknowledge in the field of molecular biology but she doubted Rose would give her something that complex to her. “I’ve been such a mess lately that my notes are in disorder. Thankfully, I’ve numerated them all. Can you help me classify them?” That definitely was something she could do. Rose separated the notes in two piles and gave her one. They were halfway through their classification when they heard a knock on the door. Rose turned around and frowned when she saw Liv and Clara waiting behind the glass door. Liv still looked completely devastated and Clara was holding her lovingly against her, supporting her so she wouldn’t collapse. By the looks on their faces, Rose just knew that Liv would collapse if Clara wasn’t holding her. She saved her husband, but she also was the one who had his life between her hands. She was convinced that she had killed him when they had all seen her save him. A blow like this one had hit her right in the core and it was as hard to handle as the rape she had been a victim of fifteen years ago. “I think this is for you, doctor Burnley.” Rose unlocked the door as Amy raised her head from the notes she was reading to look at the newcomers. No explanation was necessary. She was here when the doctor Olivia Baxter confessed all her feelings while she was trying to save Maxence. She was there when she had broken down. And yet, she hadn’t thought one second that she would come to her. Liv, just like many other persons, didn’t trust therapists and preferred dealing with things by herself. But today, it was impossible. After a quick glance to Rose that silently told her that she would be fine, Amy stood up and faced Liv and Clara who had come in the office. Liv was staring at her feet. She was here against her will. It was Clara who expressed the demand for a session. “We should go to my office if you don’t mind.” Amy led the way. It was weird to go back to her office. All her sessions were in her patients’ offices lately. But they would be better in her own. She didn’t ignore the heart-breaking look on Liv’s face when they passed by the cages where Maxence had been brought back. He was now lying in his new bed, connected to many machines that were keeping him alive and giving them a better idea of his condition. And it wasn’t brilliant.

x

Tegan only wanted one thing at the moment: have a closer look to Maxence’s scans. He had seen and noted the most important details but he couldn’t do a proper study of those scans because he was the substitute leader of this place, of the team working on the noctiagus and he had other things to do. As bad as they were, Maxence’s scans could wait. The creation of the cure couldn’t, and that was why he was now walking to the sterile room where Myrtle Appleton was currently detained. She was the key to the whole epidemic, he was certain of that. He would make her speak and give him the results of her own researches. They would complete their researches and they would reach the goal they had all been aiming at for years. He just hoped that she wouldn’t be as unbearable as her brother. However, fate was playing that game he hated, the game where a simple task was becoming a real ordeal because of the obstacles thrown on his way. The very first of those obstacles were the couple of detectives. He had completely forgotten about them and yet, they had been the key that led him to the creator of the noctiagus. That wasn’t nothing. “I usually don’t go to people because I can’t bear their presence but you have forgotten about us and that’s quite annoying.” “You were right,” sighed Tegan. “Myrtle Appleton, that was the right name. Now I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later:” He tried to leave but Camden McCarson blocked him. He wouldn’t let him go before he had what he wanted: Tegan wasn’t in the mood for that. He had more important things to do than satisfy the ego of this detective. Donna was just observing. She wanted to know more about the situation but she also could tell it wasn’t the right moment. “Listen. I’m very thankful for the work you’re doing but we’re about to lose our patient and we have a cure to make. If you don’t mind, I have work to do.” “We found patient zero,” declared Donna as Tegan walked away. This information obviously caught his attention. Having Myrtle Appleton by close by was excellent but having the patient zero was even better. He turned around. The detectives hadn’t moved but their expression was clear: they were exulting because of his reaction to their admission. “Eugène McCoy,” added McCarson. “He was Myrtle’s husband back then. They had a kid together. A daughter. She was born with the Xeroderma Pigmentosum and died before she reached her tenth anniversary.” “Myrtle Appleton was dearly attached to her daughter. The grief drove her crazy.” “Yeah, and she started her researches.” “Where is that Eugene McCoy?” “Dead. He was one of the very first victims.” Tegan swore and walked back to Myrtle Appleton’s cell, leaving the two detectives there without a thank you. He would hear about it later but his anger was only increasing with every minute passing by. This woman was gonna hear about him and he would perhaps give her name to Rose. The woman needed to unleash her rage, to get her revenge for her sick husband. That would only be fair. He was almost there when his phone rang. With another sigh, he picked up the phone. His headache was there but forgotten, the pain in his jaw was still there too but he was ignoring it, focusing everything on his anger and distress. “Tegan Smith. Neurology.” “Doctor Smith, we have a problem.” Rory’s voice. If a member of the security was calling him on this line, it meant that it was important. There wasn’t any alarm so it surely wasn’t a major problem. The trouble with hope in those times was that it was easy to shatter, and Rory’s voice was enough for Tegan to understand that it wasn’t a minor problem. “Can’t it wait?” “I don’t think so.” “What’s going on?” “We found a dead body in one of the labs.” “Who it is?” Tegan’s chest tightened. A bad feeling was overwhelming him now. A death. In the labs. Who could it be? Was it the virus? Had it spread to the whole building? The frightening list of responsibilities that would come after that was giving him anxiety. “Adam Mitchell, sir. It’s a suicide.” “Are you sure about this?” “Yes, sir. What do we do?” Tegan honestly didn’t know. He had never been in this situation. Now, he could add the guilt to the long list of his emotions. What if Adam had made it because of his decision? He was so young… What would he tell his parents if they were still alive? How would he deal with this death in the building?

To be continued...

Ghost of you © | 2017 - 2019 | Tous droits réservés.

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In the next chapter:

The neurologist left the office, his guts completely knotted and his headache definitely worse than earlier. He was dreaming of a good night of sleep but that wouldn’t be before a while. He rushed to the sterile room that was keeping Myrtle Appleton prisoner. His mental image of the scientist was shattered by the actual being. He had never met her before, nor had he read her works. He knew the name but not the face but he had expected her to kinda look like Colin, almost like evil twins. But Myrtle didn’t look anything like him. Less serious, more eccentric, but she had that spark of cold intelligence in her eyes. But she looked more “human”, more manipulable than her brother.

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|| Next >

English version:

AO3 || FF || TS || Wattpad.

[ghost-chance]

A New Lease on Life - 4: The Truth

A quick note: the book Dark of the Moon is an obscure poetry volume but it's very much worth the read. The poem Amber reads aloud in this chapter is from that very book; 'The Eye' by Donald Wandrei is found on pages 381 and 382 with several other of his sonnets. Secondly: Occasional short, graphic present tense passages in italics denote intrusive memories; intrusive memories can be very overwhelming when they occur, and in my own experience, the memories they show are often exaggerated and warped, and sometimes even worse than what actually happened. This chapter dedicated to everyone reading, following, and fav'ing this story—especially ImpartingAbyss, for reviewing and just being hilarious!Trigger Warnings: Grossness, Intrusive memories, disturbing, graphic imagery, panic attacks, religious references, violent death.

Suggested Listening: Coldplay, "Fix You," Breaking Benjamin, "Fade Away"

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4: The Truth 

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‘Great, Amber,' she thought to herself as she hung face-first over the stream of running wastewater, hacking up a meal she didn't remember eating. 'Ya didn't cowk- all over Don's shell, but ya barely missed'is feet. Yer just too hot fer ya own good, ain'tcha?'- She spat once more, swiping a used tissue across her lips; hopefully, the other two hadn't seen her yank it out of her shirt. It's awkward enough getting caught using a bra for a pocket, but when you're clearly braless, people start wondering where you stashed whatever you just pulled out…and handy as boob-pockets were, it wasn't something she was ready to admit.

"S-Sorry," she said hoarsely. "I don't do so well with heights…just gimme a sec." Heat flooded her cheeks at the small metal canteen held at her eye level. "Thanks." She gratefully rinsed her mouth out and snapped the topper back on. "I'll wash that later—there anythin' you DON'T have in that bag'a yers?"

"The sink," he answered simply. Once her stomach settled, the blindfold went back on and she was lifted up over his shoulder again, thanking her lucky stars she couldn't see how high up she was. Not long after, her ears were assaulted by the screech of a rusty hinge; she felt her carrier tense.

"Better oil that," Leo said simply.

"As soon as this is resolved," Donnie replied lowly. "'Til then, it can wait." The shoulder Amber rested on slouched; she knew without a doubt what was going through his mind and it was unpleasantly familiar. Without Donatello, the lair would fall apart—the family would fall apart. As much as they depended on him, though, the others tended to take him for granted without even realizing it. It always broke her heart to see it before, knowing all-too-well just how it felt, and now it was even more distressing. She couldn't say anything, though. After all, she already proved that she knew more than she should, and would only be more suspicious. A gentle squeeze of his other shoulder conveyed what words could not, but sent a worrisome shiver through him.

"What is going on here?" a slightly raspy voice burst out. "Boys, why have you brought a stranger into our midst?!" Leonardo hurried to greet their father and master.

"We had no other choice, Master," He explained hurriedly. "The alarms were set off by this woman—she almost froze to death down here! We took her to April's, but…" He winced, trailing off.

"Casey disagreed," Donnie finished dryly. "From the tantrum he's throwing, you'd think she insulted his mother." Amber shrunk into the warm shoulder, certain she was in some serious trouble...even though she hadn't insulted any mothers lately. How could she have followed them home? How could she have believed they could bring her back to the Lair with them without trouble from Splinter? The Canon versions of him always struck her as crotchety but wise rather than prone to pointless anger but the idea of angering the aged Rat gave her chills. And Raphael…Casey had insisted that he and Raph had 'busted' Kimber repeatedly; she'd have no ally in Raph, she was sure of it, and that knowledge made her feel bitter.

"We did blindfold her, see?" The nervous reminder - Leo's attempt at placating Splinter's worries - drove Amber to blush.

She cringed behind the purple fabric blocking her vision. They blindfolded her alright—with a slightly ratty purple kerchief from Donnie's trouser pockets. Her lungs were too flooded with his familiar - and mouth-watering - scent (coffee, clean grease, a faint hint of spice, and clean sweat) to notice the sewer funk, but she'd been forced to take drastic measures to stifle her body's reaction to the combination. By the time they reached the lair, she'd mentally replayed the most bizarre songs she could think of - Time Warp, Feed My Frankenstein, Ballroom Blitz, nothing was overlooked.* As hard as she focused on distracting herself by methodically dissecting every possible meaning of every lyric, she never noticed the ninjas' breaths growing more and more shallow by the moment.

Soft grumbling from the woman still slouched over Donnie's shoulder made the brothers meet eyes in an awkward wince. To the average human, the woman's scent wouldn't have registered, but they were more than human - to them, the sudden flood of pheromones was stifling, and it seemed to only strengthen.

"Bring her here," Splinter conceded wearily, settling himself at the low table in his room. Donatello followed, easing Amber to the floor as Leo went about boiling water for tea. With a gentle tug of fabric, the barrier was gone from Amber's eyes, taking with it the delightful aroma that had driven her mad. She remained silent, head bowed and eyes closed as Donnie excused himself to the lab, leaving the door parted behind him. "We're no savages, Child, you needn't hide your eyes."

"S-Sorry," she mumbled shyly, glancing furtively up at the being on the other side of the table. "I'm not afraid of you…just—well, nervous an' sorry for getting your sons in trouble." His whiskers twitched in a suppressed smile as he recognized her odd speech from his stories; she spoke with what he interpreted as a Midwestern twang that bordered on Southern drawl, but it seemed off somehow - warped in some places and some pronunciations were forced, as though the strange woman was mimicking something foreign. He saw no threat in her posture or behavior, though, and decided to overlook the odd woman's speech quirk.

"Well, this changes things," he answered seriously. "I had no idea you forced my boys to bring you here against their own good judgment. How could an unarmed woman not much taller than myself accomplish such a feat?"

"What?" she objected frantically, finally looking up to fully meet his eyes. She was visibly horrified - good, maybe she wasn't a threat. "No, I di'n't- do any of that—I never asked'em- to bring me here! They…well, I've got nowhere else to go, an'—"

"Then you are not directly responsible for them bringing you here?" She chewed her lip a moment, staring through the lacquered wood. "Taking responsibility for others' actions is an injustice to you and a disservice to them. I am wary of their bringing a stranger home, you must understand, but we mean you no harm." Amber hesitantly met his dark eyes over the gunmetal rims of her glasses.

"Yes, Sir." At that moment, Leonardo arrived bearing a wooden tray laden with cups and a small steaming teapot; tears pricked Amber's eyes at the familiar scent wafting up the spout. "Oolong," she choked out without considering how random the comment would seem.

"Miss O'Brien?" Leo asked warily. "Is something wrong?" She shook her head, smiling weakly.

"No...uh...Leonardo. It's just—I'm just weird, I guess. All the things I could miss from my old life, an' I miss tea. Sunrise coffee, lightnin' bugs at dusk, wadin' in the crick in summer, warm dirt underfoot an' the mornin' fog—nope, I miss tea."

"Sometimes things that seem trivial can mean the most to us," Splinter admitted solemnly as Leo excused himself from the room. "I am called Splinter, Child; you have already met my eldest, Leonardo, and my second eldest, Donatello; I'm sure you'll meet my other second eldest Raphael, and their younger brother Michelangelo, before the night is out. Your name is O'Brien, yes?" She stared a hole through the bottom of the teacup, soaking in the sweet perfume rising from it.

"Yeah," she answered softly. "My name's Amber O'Brien, that much I know's- true, but I don't have many answers…at least not that I can get out. Casey seems convinced I'm someone by the name of Kimber Bryant, but I'm not—I'm just stuck in her body, as crazy as that sounds." She winced; it did sound crazy...it also sounded sexual, proof that even in this life, she was cursed to be gutter-brained. "I'll gladly answer any questions you have—if I can get the words out, at least. I can't—"

A low grating sound above drew her attention - a raspy rumble halfway between overfilled coffee grinder and rapidly approaching coal train. She fought the panic rising in her chest but scanned deliriously for the demon she knew would arrive any moment to take her away…again. Familiar, horrifying images fought their way to the forefront of her mind, manifesting with alarming ease. "I…"

Crushed foundations stained with blood. Toppled buildings groan in the night. A battered doll hangs in a stripped tree like a grotesque scarecrow.

"I can't—"

Circling buzzards stalk the ruins of a farmhouse. Flies gather on a dark stain in the mangled turf. Faded white curtains dangle from an empty window like a flag of surrender. Wind howls through trees stripped bare—

"Puh-Please!" she cried, curling into a ball. "M—Make it stop! I can't—can't make it—"

"DONATELLO!" The sudden shout from Splinter's rooms wrenched the genius from his daze; had he really missed dinner while staring through the recovered security footage? "HURRY!" The panic in his father's voice sent him barreling toward the source, only to freeze in the doorway of Splinter's room in disbelief.

Amber lay curled on the floor in a ball, her hands clasped over her neck, shaking violently. Even without his goggles in place, he recognized what was happening. Blood pressure elevated, pulse rate rising, breathing rapid and irregular, drop in blood oxygen levels imminent… Between her raspy breaths and choked sobs troubling words leaked through, hinting at what she clearly couldn't tell them. Blood. Wind. Glass. Hurt. Storm. Dead. Aaron. School. Book…Donnie shook himself out of his stupor, rushing to his father's side and skidding onto his knees.

"She's having a panic attack!" he explained frantically as he pulled her away from the broken china cup on the floor - the teacup she was given clearly suffered in the panic. "How'd I not see it before?! We've gotta—" At the sudden weight on his legs, all thought fled his mind. His eyes dropped to the shaking body huddled against him, the head buried in his armored chest, and the two low pigtails brushing against his side. He turned in dismay to his father; Splinter nodded gravely, hastily lighting some incense at the table. Donnie forced back his nervousness to focus on monitoring Amber's vital signs and ignoring the unnaturally red hair whispering across his skin.

The first thing to manifest in Amber's mind was warmth; the second was a strangely familiar aroma of coffee and clean grease, and the pungent, smoky perfume of burning incense. A strong hand rubbed slow, calming patterns on her back while another held her close to something warm and smooth, fingertips poised carefully on her neck.

Out of the darkness, a low humming broke through—soft, slow murmurs from another lifetime promised patience and understanding—promised to fix her broken soul.** Last of all, a dusky brown came into view as the memories faded from her mind's eye. That was a familiar brown, she realized fearfully. A glance upward revealed the truth, and two concerned hazel eyes fixed on hers; the humming stopped.

HOW did she wind up in Donatello's LAP?! "Eheh…Hi?" she attempted. Though the worry never left his eyes, he cracked a weak smile.

"Hi." She glanced awkwardly from the turtle still rubbing her back to Splinter.

"How'd I get here? Please tell me I didn't jus' crawl into his lap." Neither answered, triggering a deep blush. Yup...she just crawled into his lap - didn't even buy'im a drink first. Splinter scrutinized her silently a moment, then momentarily locked eyes with his son.

"Your soul has some very deep scars, Miss O'Brien," Splinter murmured softly as he gathered the shattered china - regretful of the loss, but not condemning the cause. "Scars that are too tender for inspection, much less display. If you are willing, though, I may know of a way to see your past without forcing you to speak it. Would you care to try?"

Amber thought long and hard, still flustered at being seated across Donnie's very warm, very comfortable lap—a lap she had no memory of invading. Search though she did, though, she still came up with the same answer. "If it'd clear my name an' prove that you have nothin' to fear from me? I'd do just about anything."

"What's going on, Bruh?" Mikey whispered. Leo shushed him as Raphael lumbered over. The three of them peered warily into Splinter's room where he and Amber sat back to back, silent and still, clearly in deep meditation.

"Sensei's trying to see her past," Donatello answered gravely as he joined them. "Talking about it sends her into a panic attack; he's hoping that deep meditation will reveal what she can't, in the Astral Plane."

"Wow, she knows how to meditate?" Mikey eyed her warily. "Maybe she's a ninja—or a Jedi! OW!" he exclaimed at Raph's brain-duster.

"She's knocked out, Mikey," Donnie answered dryly. "I had to sedate her…again. From what I understand, the last train that passed over triggered a panic attack...just like we saw in the Station."

"What made her afraid of the subway?" Mikey asked dubiously as they watched their sensei at work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another time, another life, another world

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The two people in the front seat seemed to have not a care in the world, Splinter mused. He didn't quite care for the music they were blaring, but they were obviously very happy. What he couldn't quite understand was why he was in their backseat, and where Amber was in this memory.

"Shaddup,- O'Brien!" the blond man grinned as he skipped another track. "Ozzy could kick Sinatra's ass any day of the week!" The woman in the driver's seat grinned widely, swatting his hand away from the stereo.

"Willis," she shot back. "There's more to life than who kin- kick whose arse—an' Sinatra's not that bad! His music's got a great—"

"Rammstein!" Aaron interrupted loudly, yanking a massive CD binder from under his seat and digging through it like a man possessed. "O'Brien, please tell me you've got some Rammstein in here. All this culture's gonna make me puke."

"Yer gonna make me puke." Splinter studied the driver intently; he couldn't believe it! He'd heard that voice, that awkward accent before—it was the voice and accent of Amber O'Brien, whose memories he was currently experiencing. This woman looked nothing like the Amber he'd met, though…this woman had to be at least two hundred pounds and several years older, and both warm brown braids were liberally streaked with grey. "You do realize 90% of Rammstein's music is just foul language and banging, right? Ya won't find any'a that crap in my car."

"Picky. So, word is they're gonna make a new TMNT movie soon!" Aaron piped up; the car swerved sharply and she grinned over at him excitedly.

"Yes! Omigosh, yes! When?!" Aaron burst out laughing.

"Psych!" he cackled. "Oh, the look on your face—was Donatello wearin' pants again?" Her entire face red as a beet, she whacked him in the shoulder.

"Screw you, Willis. Why did I ever tell you about that dream? I mean, seriously?" 'That Dream...' As though she hadn't dreamt of that Donnie for years, his refractive hazel eyes, his shy, gap-toothed smile, his permanent slouch...Damn. Hello, Gutter. "Ugh," she groaned reaching down to rub her right knee. "I can't wait to git out'a- this car—my knees're- killin' me."

"I'd say that'd teach ya to jump in front of a bus, but it prob'ly wouldn't."

"Dumbarse, Fer the las' time, I didn't jump in front of a bus. Some damn idjit- ran a red light an' hit me in the crosswalk. Startin' to think I preferred ya hungover—at least ya were quiet."

They had to be driving through a war zone, Splinter thought sorrowfully. What else could have turned the small town into such a disaster area? Trees were ripped up, buildings crushed, even the very pavement the car drove on was gouged and crumbled in places. Amber, hadn't spoken since they crossed the city limits and stared fearfully around her searching for landmarks that no longer existed. By the time they reached the remains of her home, it became abundantly clear to the unseen passenger: somehow, despite the drastically different appearances, he had indeed found Amber O'Brien.

From atop a pile of provisions, Splinter watched Amber and Aaron. The Town Hall's basement, though touted as a Fallout Shelter, was never meant for so many people and conditions were ridiculously crowded. Aaron bustled from one place to another making himself useful; Splinter never expected such selflessness from him after his behavior in the car, but he supposed even his boys were prone to misbehavior among friends.

As of yet, Amber simply sat in a vacant corner staring through the wall as though she were completely dead to the world. She'd not spoken since she and Aaron broke down on her battered front lawn, nor had she eaten any of the meals the blonde tried to coax her with. It was as though she'd simply ceased to exist. Splinter's heart ached, realizing the truth; she was in shock—so deeply in shock that she'd ceased to think or feel anything. As troubled by this revelation as he was, he missed the moment she finally moved from her corner. Quickly catching sight of her he followed behind as she climbed the creaking stairs and wandered aimlessly away from the shelter as though following a distant call.

Splinter could only guess why she came to the school. Feeling certain that something terrible was about to happen, he trailed behind her as she made her way to the library. With an almost wistful expression, she traced familiar shelves, digging through the scattered volumes for a particular tome. Its plain black cover was worn and faded from age, but the sight brought tears to her otherwise empty eyes. Among the ruins of the once proud building, she leafed through the book for a particular page and in a soft, haunting tone, read aloud.

"A deep force pulls me toward the window-blind, some impulse urges me to raise the shade; why is it that I tremble, half afraid, with formless terrors running through my mind? What are the dim dread images that bind my hand? Why is my arm so strongly stayed? What sense of overhanging doom has made me fearful? What the sight I shall find? Some warning voice calls out: Go back—go back! I could not turn though fronted by the rack. And so I slowly raise the shade to greet whatever on the other side should lie, and stare and stare in horror as I meet the leering of a huge and sightless eye." ***

Her empty eyes turned to the window, drawn by a sudden movement and crack of thunder; chills raced down Splinter's spine. He was only here in spirit and could not be harmed for that reason, but he knew something dreadful was about to happen.

Amber wandered over to the only intact window, peering about with vacant disinterest. As though summoned by the words she'd spoken, a deafening, grinding roar filled the air. A wall cloud loomed overhead as a funnel cloud touched down somewhere southwest of the battered building. Right before Splinter's eyes, she tucked the book securely in her arms and fell to her knees in the rubble and glass, bowing her head in prayer.

"Please," she mumbled softly. "Protect my family…protect my friends…protect this town and those who live here. Forgive us our trespasses and guide us in our time of need. Help Aaron understand, and keep him under your care...he's too stubborn to ask for help." Splinter's ears felt ready to burst from the horrible pressure; surely Amber was hurting too, but she gave no sign of anything—pain, fear, sorrow, nothing! "Please, Lord…please wrap your arms around those who have been brought down by these storms, help them rise from the ashes anew, and help them rebuild their lives…thank you for everything." Finally, the mask broke - regret twisted her eyes and shook her parted lips. "If you gave second chances, I'd ask only for—"

Before she could finish, the window burst inward raining shattered glass over her prostrate body. Splinter flinched, choking up at the sight. Almost immediately a glass brick from a nearby building came careening through the window frame and struck her in the head. As the light left her eyes, and she died on her knees, the aged rat mourned the woman who' gave up on life.

The sudden change in location was dizzying. Splinter gazed around him in confusion, trying to come to grips with what had happened. One moment he was in a small town high school library, standing at the side of a woman who'd died needlessly, next he stood in a familiar chamber. Intricate green and ivory tile, tarnished brass fittings, elegant bronze plaques, bright blue glass skylights and bare-bulb light fixtures…he gazed around him, struggling to make sense of the situation.

The abandoned City Hall subway station…He'd been pulled from a ruined schoolhouse to the abandoned City Hall station! Almost frantically he searched the large cavern; how could he have woken from his trance so far from his family?!

Movement in the corner startled him. He faded into the shadows with the ease of a ninja master, watching as a pile of rubbish shifted with a groan. "Aw, ma heid,"- a familiar voice groaned. Right before his eyes, Amber—the Amber his boys had brought to him—groggily struggled upright, rubbing her forehead right where the glass brick had struck her counterpart in his vision. The truth was all too clear now, though he still couldn't fathom how it was possible.

Amber O'Brien died at the school, died in the library from a blow to the head. Against all logic, she woke up in that very cavern in the body of another: a woman formerly known as Kimber Bryant. It made no sense, but still, he knew it was true. Right then, the roar of a passing tram echoed through the chamber. Amber screamed, falling to her knees with her hands over her neck, firmly in the grips of a panic attack. The world faded around Splinter as she fought the demons of her previous life, cowering in the rubbish of another.

When did his life become so complicated?

~~~~~~~ The Lair ~~~~~~~

Splinter came back to himself with a start, glancing feverishly around for his sons. In mere moments the four gathered around him, Raphael shooting distrustful glares at the still unconscious woman still seated against his back. Unbidden, the aged mutant recalled her death - the way she died slumped over on her knees, head bowed in prayer but back abnormally straight in defiance...he shuddered. Finally, sure he had everyone's attention, the aged rat answered the question hanging silently in the air.

"She speaks the truth...Kimber is gone; Amber lives again."

Amber regained consciousness to the sound of distant arguing. Never realizing she was being watched, she sat up cross-legged, rubbing her aching forehead. "Owww...Di' I skelp my heid er somethin'?"- she asked weakly, thickly.

"Blunt force trauma to the skull," Donatello muttered from the shadows. She jumped but gripped her skull again.

"When?" she asked quickly chasing the thick, gruff tone away from her words. "I don't recall ani'thin'- after that injection."

Donatello took a moment to compose himself, padding toward her and dropping to one knee at her side. "It's..." His fingers dug into the worn rug beneath them, anchoring himself in the moment. "You died. Do you remember?"

"Of course, I know I died," she answered slowly, "what I don't remember is the dyin' bit...an' why's my head killin' me?" Donatello stared through the still smoking incense, his shoulders fairly trembling. "Donnie?"

"A cube of blown architectural glass," he muttered, then hesitantly met her eyes. Her lungs forgot their purpose when he gently, almost timidly brushed her punch red bangs away from her forehead. The contact sent a sharp throb through her skull; against her will, she hissed at the pain. His face fell. "The point of impact...It was quick, but I can't guarantee it was painless." It took a moment but she finally realized the connection.

"Wait..." She cringed. "Yer tellin' me I was beaned in the brain-pan- with a glass brick?! The only place in town with glass bricks was Mum's church!" She scoffed bitterly. "Oh, the irony...everythin' that congregation put me through wasn't enough, the building had to kill me, too. I take it Master Splinter was able to see everything, then…an' he told y'all what happened."

"Not everything, no, but he gave us the basics…Raphael doesn't believe him." A sudden crash rang out in the living room, followed by Splinter shouting in Japanese. "We're safer in here, trust me."

"Safe?" she scoffed. "What's that? I was killed by a church - Nothin's safe anymore." She glanced over at her silent company, her cheeks pinking. "So did Splinter figure out how I got here, in this world?" Donnie shook his head, clearly disturbed by something.

"No, but he has an idea. He thinks you and Kimber might be inter-dimensional counterparts—the same soul existing in two different worlds—and that you were somehow drawn into her body when you both died. Sensei says you had regrets which may or may not be a factor." He dug his knuckles into the worn rug, clearly fighting some unknown emotion. "She died before you got there, probably the night before we found you." Not yet seeing the subtext, she sighed in obvious relief.

"You have NO idea what a relief that is," she muttered. "I've been so worried I somehow forced'er out of'er own body—that I'm responsible for her death! I just couldn't—Dee, what's wrong? Ya look like someone kicked your puppy!" He didn't answer; instead, he hoisted himself to his feet and padded dejectedly out of the room. It wasn't until later that night when he showed her to the spare cot in the Lab that she figured out what he wasn't saying.

He had arrived in time to prevent her death, but not Kimber's…and Purple Dragon or not, the knowledge weighed heavily on him. Amber spent the whole night staring at the concrete ceiling, ruminating. It seemed even in her new life, she was too careless with her words and actions.

Somewhere between rumbling trains, memory assaults, and musings about stunning hazel eyes, the sewer faded into the world of dreams.

Still with me, y'all? Sure hope so

 Words (Midwestern Twang unless otherwise noted)

- Ain't'cha? - 'Aren't you?' - Ani'thin' - Anything, a local pronunciation similar in cadence to "Anikin" if the name started with an 'Enn.' This may be a largely localized pronunciation as I've not heard it often and have never heard it outside my own area. - Cowk - Vomit, Scottish slang/Scots. - Di'n't / Din't - Didn't - Ma heid - Scottish slang my head. - Idjit - slang pronunciation of idiot. - Kin - This one has two different possible meanings depending on how it's used. If it's used as a noun, it means family, and not only blood relations but the family you choose. It's not a commonly used term anymore because people tend to associate it with family feuds and redneck living. If the word is used as a verb - as in "You kin kiss my arse," it's just a twisted pronunciation of "can," differentiated because the -a- is instead prounced -i- like bin. - Knees're - knees are - Out'a - Out of - Prob'ly  - Probably - Shaddup / Shuddup - 'shut up,' generally more common in the South than the Midwest, but in Southern Missouri, it's not unusual to hear either. The second pronunciation is the more common. - Di' I skelp my heid 'er somethin'? - Amber's first major speech relapse, this is mostly an ungodly meshing of twang and Scots. Basically, 'Did I hit my head or something?' - That much I know's true. - That much I know is true. - Beaned in the brain-pan - slang 'hit in the head'

- Adding 'e, 'is, or 'im to the end of a word - means he, his or him respectively. - Adding 'er to the end of a word - means her. - Adding 'ey, 'em, or 'eir to the end of a word - means they, them, or their respectively.

NOTES

* Credits for songs: "Time Warp" is by Patricia Quinn, Richard O'Brien, and Little Nell, from "The Rocky Horror Picture Show." "Feed My Frankenstein" is by Alice Cooper, (AKA, the king of bizarre music) from album "Hey, Stoopid." Lastly, "Ballroom Blitz" is by the band Sweet, best known for this song, "Fox on the Run" and "Love Is Like Oxygen."

** The tune is Coldplay's "Fix You;' two guesses as to who's humming it, and you really should only need ONE. It's pretty obvious.

*** The book Amber reads here really exists. "Dark of the Moon" is a poetry anthology compiled by August Derleth, and includes "poems of fantasy and the macabre." It's highly uncommon—there were only a couple rather limited printings and most copies are found in libraries—but it's very much worth the read. "The Eye" was written by Donald Wandrei and is found on pages 381 and 382 with several other of his sonnets. It appears exactly as it's typed in my copy of the book and it makes my inner grammar nazi twitch; the correct phrase would be "Why is my arm so strongly STAID," not "STAYED." RRRG! Pretty sure its copyright is expired, as the volume was published in 1947.

UP NEXT: You Can't Set a Broken Soul.

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[get-a-new-lease-on-life]

A New Lease on Life - 4: The Truth

A quick note: the book Dark of the Moon is an obscure poetry volume but it’s very much worth the read. The poem Amber reads aloud in this chapter is from that very book; ‘The Eye’ by Donald Wandrei is found on pages 381 and 382 with several other of his sonnets. Secondly: Occasional short, graphic present tense passages in italics denote intrusive memories; intrusive memories can be very overwhelming when they occur, and in my own experience, the memories they show are often exaggerated and warped, and sometimes even worse than what actually happened. This chapter dedicated to everyone reading, following, and fav'ing this story—especially ImpartingAbyss, for reviewing and just being hilarious!Trigger Warnings: Grossness, Intrusive memories, disturbing, graphic imagery, panic attacks, religious references, violent death.

Suggested Listening: Coldplay, “Fix You,” Breaking Benjamin, “Fade Away”

-----------------

4: The Truth  

-----------------

‘Great, Amber,’ she thought to herself as she hung face-first over the stream of running wastewater, hacking up a meal she didn’t remember eating. 'Ya didn’t cowk- all over Don’s shell, but ya barely missed'is feet. Yer just too hot fer ya own good, ain'tcha?’- She spat once more, swiping a used tissue across her lips; hopefully, the other two hadn’t seen her yank it out of her shirt. It’s awkward enough getting caught using a bra for a pocket, but when you’re clearly braless, people start wondering where you stashed whatever you just pulled out…and handy as boob-pockets were, it wasn’t something she was ready to admit.

“S-Sorry,” she said hoarsely. “I don’t do so well with heights…just gimme a sec.” Heat flooded her cheeks at the small metal canteen held at her eye level. “Thanks.” She gratefully rinsed her mouth out and snapped the topper back on. “I’ll wash that later—there anythin’ you DON’T have in that bag'a yers?”

“The sink,” he answered simply. Once her stomach settled, the blindfold went back on and she was lifted up over his shoulder again, thanking her lucky stars she couldn’t see how high up she was. Not long after, her ears were assaulted by the screech of a rusty hinge; she felt her carrier tense.

“Better oil that,” Leo said simply.

“As soon as this is resolved,” Donnie replied lowly. “'Til then, it can wait.” The shoulder Amber rested on slouched; she knew without a doubt what was going through his mind and it was unpleasantly familiar. Without Donatello, the lair would fall apart—the family would fall apart. As much as they depended on him, though, the others tended to take him for granted without even realizing it. It always broke her heart to see it before, knowing all-too-well just how it felt, and now it was even more distressing. She couldn’t say anything, though. After all, she already proved that she knew more than she should, and would only be more suspicious. A gentle squeeze of his other shoulder conveyed what words could not, but sent a worrisome shiver through him.

“What is going on here?” a slightly raspy voice burst out. “Boys, why have you brought a stranger into our midst?!” Leonardo hurried to greet their father and master.

“We had no other choice, Master,” He explained hurriedly. “The alarms were set off by this woman—she almost froze to death down here! We took her to April’s, but…” He winced, trailing off.

“Casey disagreed,” Donnie finished dryly. “From the tantrum he’s throwing, you’d think she insulted his mother.” Amber shrunk into the warm shoulder, certain she was in some serious trouble…even though she hadn’t insulted any mothers lately. How could she have followed them home? How could she have believed they could bring her back to the Lair with them without trouble from Splinter? The Canon versions of him always struck her as crotchety but wise rather than prone to pointless anger but the idea of angering the aged Rat gave her chills. And Raphael…Casey had insisted that he and Raph had 'busted’ Kimber repeatedly; she’d have no ally in Raph, she was sure of it, and that knowledge made her feel bitter.

“We did blindfold her, see?” The nervous reminder - Leo’s attempt at placating Splinter’s worries - drove Amber to blush.

She cringed behind the purple fabric blocking her vision. They blindfolded her alright—with a slightly ratty purple kerchief from Donnie’s trouser pockets. Her lungs were too flooded with his familiar - and mouth-watering - scent (coffee, clean grease, a faint hint of spice, and clean sweat) to notice the sewer funk, but she’d been forced to take drastic measures to stifle her body’s reaction to the combination. By the time they reached the lair, she’d mentally replayed the most bizarre songs she could think of - Time Warp, Feed My Frankenstein, Ballroom Blitz, nothing was overlooked.* As hard as she focused on distracting herself by methodically dissecting every possible meaning of every lyric, she never noticed the ninjas’ breaths growing more and more shallow by the moment.

Soft grumbling from the woman still slouched over Donnie’s shoulder made the brothers meet eyes in an awkward wince. To the average human, the woman’s scent wouldn’t have registered, but they were more than human - to them, the sudden flood of pheromones was stifling, and it seemed to only strengthen.

“Bring her here,” Splinter conceded wearily, settling himself at the low table in his room. Donatello followed, easing Amber to the floor as Leo went about boiling water for tea. With a gentle tug of fabric, the barrier was gone from Amber’s eyes, taking with it the delightful aroma that had driven her mad. She remained silent, head bowed and eyes closed as Donnie excused himself to the lab, leaving the door parted behind him. “We’re no savages, Child, you needn’t hide your eyes.”

“S-Sorry,” she mumbled shyly, glancing furtively up at the being on the other side of the table. “I’m not afraid of you…just—well, nervous an’ sorry for getting your sons in trouble.” His whiskers twitched in a suppressed smile as he recognized her odd speech from his stories; she spoke with what he interpreted as a Midwestern twang that bordered on Southern drawl, but it seemed off somehow - warped in some places and some pronunciations were forced, as though the strange woman was mimicking something foreign. He saw no threat in her posture or behavior, though, and decided to overlook the odd woman’s speech quirk.

“Well, this changes things,” he answered seriously. “I had no idea you forced my boys to bring you here against their own good judgment. How could an unarmed woman not much taller than myself accomplish such a feat?”

“What?” she objected frantically, finally looking up to fully meet his eyes. She was visibly horrified - good, maybe she wasn’t a threat. “No, I di'n’t- do any of that—I never asked'em- to bring me here! They…well, I’ve got nowhere else to go, an'—”

“Then you are not directly responsible for them bringing you here?” She chewed her lip a moment, staring through the lacquered wood. “Taking responsibility for others’ actions is an injustice to you and a disservice to them. I am wary of their bringing a stranger home, you must understand, but we mean you no harm.” Amber hesitantly met his dark eyes over the gunmetal rims of her glasses.

“Yes, Sir.” At that moment, Leonardo arrived bearing a wooden tray laden with cups and a small steaming teapot; tears pricked Amber’s eyes at the familiar scent wafting up the spout. “Oolong,” she choked out without considering how random the comment would seem.

“Miss O'Brien?” Leo asked warily. “Is something wrong?” She shook her head, smiling weakly.

“No…uh…Leonardo. It’s just—I’m just weird, I guess. All the things I could miss from my old life, an’ I miss tea. Sunrise coffee, lightnin’ bugs at dusk, wadin’ in the crick in summer, warm dirt underfoot an’ the mornin’ fog—nope, I miss tea.”

“Sometimes things that seem trivial can mean the most to us,” Splinter admitted solemnly as Leo excused himself from the room. “I am called Splinter, Child; you have already met my eldest, Leonardo, and my second eldest, Donatello; I’m sure you’ll meet my other second eldest Raphael, and their younger brother Michelangelo, before the night is out. Your name is O'Brien, yes?” She stared a hole through the bottom of the teacup, soaking in the sweet perfume rising from it.

“Yeah,” she answered softly. “My name’s Amber O'Brien, that much I know’s- true, but I don’t have many answers…at least not that I can get out. Casey seems convinced I’m someone by the name of Kimber Bryant, but I’m not—I’m just stuck in her body, as crazy as that sounds.” She winced; it did sound crazy…it also sounded sexual, proof that even in this life, she was cursed to be gutter-brained. “I’ll gladly answer any questions you have—if I can get the words out, at least. I can't—”

A low grating sound above drew her attention - a raspy rumble halfway between overfilled coffee grinder and rapidly approaching coal train. She fought the panic rising in her chest but scanned deliriously for the demon she knew would arrive any moment to take her away…again. Familiar, horrifying images fought their way to the forefront of her mind, manifesting with alarming ease. “I…”

Crushed foundations stained with blood. Toppled buildings groan in the night. A battered doll hangs in a stripped tree like a grotesque scarecrow.

“I can't—”

Circling buzzards stalk the ruins of a farmhouse. Flies gather on a dark stain in the mangled turf. Faded white curtains dangle from an empty window like a flag of surrender. Wind howls through trees stripped bare—

“Puh-Please!” she cried, curling into a ball. “M—Make it stop! I can’t—can’t make it—”

“DONATELLO!” The sudden shout from Splinter’s rooms wrenched the genius from his daze; had he really missed dinner while staring through the recovered security footage? “HURRY!” The panic in his father’s voice sent him barreling toward the source, only to freeze in the doorway of Splinter’s room in disbelief.

Amber lay curled on the floor in a ball, her hands clasped over her neck, shaking violently. Even without his goggles in place, he recognized what was happening. Blood pressure elevated, pulse rate rising, breathing rapid and irregular, drop in blood oxygen levels imminent… Between her raspy breaths and choked sobs troubling words leaked through, hinting at what she clearly couldn’t tell them. Blood. Wind. Glass. Hurt. Storm. Dead. Aaron. School. Book…Donnie shook himself out of his stupor, rushing to his father’s side and skidding onto his knees.

“She’s having a panic attack!” he explained frantically as he pulled her away from the broken china cup on the floor - the teacup she was given clearly suffered in the panic. “How’d I not see it before?! We’ve gotta—” At the sudden weight on his legs, all thought fled his mind. His eyes dropped to the shaking body huddled against him, the head buried in his armored chest, and the two low pigtails brushing against his side. He turned in dismay to his father; Splinter nodded gravely, hastily lighting some incense at the table. Donnie forced back his nervousness to focus on monitoring Amber’s vital signs and ignoring the unnaturally red hair whispering across his skin.

The first thing to manifest in Amber’s mind was warmth; the second was a strangely familiar aroma of coffee and clean grease, and the pungent, smoky perfume of burning incense. A strong hand rubbed slow, calming patterns on her back while another held her close to something warm and smooth, fingertips poised carefully on her neck.

Out of the darkness, a low humming broke through—soft, slow murmurs from another lifetime promised patience and understanding—promised to fix her broken soul.** Last of all, a dusky brown came into view as the memories faded from her mind’s eye. That was a familiar brown, she realized fearfully. A glance upward revealed the truth, and two concerned hazel eyes fixed on hers; the humming stopped.

HOW did she wind up in Donatello’s LAP?! “Eheh…Hi?” she attempted. Though the worry never left his eyes, he cracked a weak smile.

“Hi.” She glanced awkwardly from the turtle still rubbing her back to Splinter.

“How’d I get here? Please tell me I didn’t jus’ crawl into his lap.” Neither answered, triggering a deep blush. Yup…she just crawled into his lap - didn’t even buy'im a drink first. Splinter scrutinized her silently a moment, then momentarily locked eyes with his son.

“Your soul has some very deep scars, Miss O'Brien,” Splinter murmured softly as he gathered the shattered china - regretful of the loss, but not condemning the cause. “Scars that are too tender for inspection, much less display. If you are willing, though, I may know of a way to see your past without forcing you to speak it. Would you care to try?”

Amber thought long and hard, still flustered at being seated across Donnie’s very warm, very comfortable lap—a lap she had no memory of invading. Search though she did, though, she still came up with the same answer. “If it’d clear my name an’ prove that you have nothin’ to fear from me? I’d do just about anything.”

“What’s going on, Bruh?” Mikey whispered. Leo shushed him as Raphael lumbered over. The three of them peered warily into Splinter’s room where he and Amber sat back to back, silent and still, clearly in deep meditation.

“Sensei’s trying to see her past,” Donatello answered gravely as he joined them. “Talking about it sends her into a panic attack; he’s hoping that deep meditation will reveal what she can’t, in the Astral Plane.”

“Wow, she knows how to meditate?” Mikey eyed her warily. “Maybe she’s a ninja—or a Jedi! OW!” he exclaimed at Raph’s brain-duster.

“She’s knocked out, Mikey,” Donnie answered dryly. “I had to sedate her…again. From what I understand, the last train that passed over triggered a panic attack…just like we saw in the Station.”

“What made her afraid of the subway?” Mikey asked dubiously as they watched their sensei at work.

~~~~~Another time, another life, another world~~~~~

The two people in the front seat seemed to have not a care in the world, Splinter mused. He didn’t quite care for the music they were blaring, but they were obviously very happy. What he couldn’t quite understand was why he was in their backseat, and where Amber was in this memory.

“Shaddup,- O'Brien!” the blond man grinned as he skipped another track. “Ozzy could kick Sinatra’s ass any day of the week!” The woman in the driver’s seat grinned widely, swatting his hand away from the stereo.

“Willis,” she shot back. “There’s more to life than who kin- kick whose arse—an’ Sinatra’s not that bad! His music’s got a great—”

“Rammstein!” Aaron interrupted loudly, yanking a massive CD binder from under his seat and digging through it like a man possessed. “O'Brien, please tell me you’ve got some Rammstein in here. All this culture’s gonna make me puke.”

“Yer gonna make me puke.” Splinter studied the driver intently; he couldn’t believe it! He’d heard that voice, that awkward accent before—it was the voice and accent of Amber O'Brien, whose memories he was currently experiencing. This woman looked nothing like the Amber he’d met, though…this woman had to be at least two hundred pounds and several years older, and both warm brown braids were liberally streaked with grey. “You do realize 90% of Rammstein’s music is just foul language and banging, right? Ya won’t find any'a that crap in my car.”

“Picky. So, word is they’re gonna make a new TMNT movie soon!” Aaron piped up; the car swerved sharply and she grinned over at him excitedly.

“Yes! Omigosh, yes! When?!” Aaron burst out laughing.

“Psych!” he cackled. “Oh, the look on your face—was Donatello wearin’ pants again?” Her entire face red as a beet, she whacked him in the shoulder.

“Screw you, Willis. Why did I ever tell you about that dream? I mean, seriously?” 'That Dream…’ As though she hadn’t dreamt of that Donnie for years, his refractive hazel eyes, his shy, gap-toothed smile, his permanent slouch...Damn. Hello, Gutter. “Ugh,” she groaned reaching down to rub her right knee. “I can’t wait to git out'a- this car—my knees’re- killin’ me.”

“I’d say that’d teach ya to jump in front of a bus, but it prob'ly wouldn’t.”

“Dumbarse, Fer the las’ time, I didn’t jump in front of a bus. Some damn idjit- ran a red light an’ hit me in the crosswalk. Startin’ to think I preferred ya hungover—at least ya were quiet.”

They had to be driving through a war zone, Splinter thought sorrowfully. What else could have turned the small town into such a disaster area? Trees were ripped up, buildings crushed, even the very pavement the car drove on was gouged and crumbled in places. Amber, hadn’t spoken since they crossed the city limits and stared fearfully around her searching for landmarks that no longer existed. By the time they reached the remains of her home, it became abundantly clear to the unseen passenger: somehow, despite the drastically different appearances, he had indeed found Amber O'Brien.

From atop a pile of provisions, Splinter watched Amber and Aaron. The Town Hall’s basement, though touted as a Fallout Shelter, was never meant for so many people and conditions were ridiculously crowded. Aaron bustled from one place to another making himself useful; Splinter never expected such selflessness from him after his behavior in the car, but he supposed even his boys were prone to misbehavior among friends.

As of yet, Amber simply sat in a vacant corner staring through the wall as though she were completely dead to the world. She’d not spoken since she and Aaron broke down on her battered front lawn, nor had she eaten any of the meals the blonde tried to coax her with. It was as though she’d simply ceased to exist. Splinter’s heart ached, realizing the truth; she was in shock—so deeply in shock that she’d ceased to think or feel anything. As troubled by this revelation as he was, he missed the moment she finally moved from her corner. Quickly catching sight of her he followed behind as she climbed the creaking stairs and wandered aimlessly away from the shelter as though following a distant call.

Splinter could only guess why she came to the school. Feeling certain that something terrible was about to happen, he trailed behind her as she made her way to the library. With an almost wistful expression, she traced familiar shelves, digging through the scattered volumes for a particular tome. Its plain black cover was worn and faded from age, but the sight brought tears to her otherwise empty eyes. Among the ruins of the once proud building, she leafed through the book for a particular page and in a soft, haunting tone, read aloud.

“A deep force pulls me toward the window-blind, some impulse urges me to raise the shade; why is it that I tremble, half afraid, with formless terrors running through my mind? What are the dim dread images that bind my hand? Why is my arm so strongly stayed? What sense of overhanging doom has made me fearful? What the sight I shall find? Some warning voice calls out: Go back—go back! I could not turn though fronted by the rack. And so I slowly raise the shade to greet whatever on the other side should lie, and stare and stare in horror as I meet the leering of a huge and sightless eye.” ***

Her empty eyes turned to the window, drawn by a sudden movement and crack of thunder; chills raced down Splinter’s spine. He was only here in spirit and could not be harmed for that reason, but he knew something dreadful was about to happen.

Amber wandered over to the only intact window, peering about with vacant disinterest. As though summoned by the words she’d spoken, a deafening, grinding roar filled the air. A wall cloud loomed overhead as a funnel cloud touched down somewhere southwest of the battered building. Right before Splinter’s eyes, she tucked the book securely in her arms and fell to her knees in the rubble and glass, bowing her head in prayer.

“Please,” she mumbled softly. “Protect my family…protect my friends…protect this town and those who live here. Forgive us our trespasses and guide us in our time of need. Help Aaron understand, and keep him under your care…he’s too stubborn to ask for help.” Splinter’s ears felt ready to burst from the horrible pressure; surely Amber was hurting too, but she gave no sign of anything—pain, fear, sorrow, nothing! “Please, Lord…please wrap your arms around those who have been brought down by these storms, help them rise from the ashes anew, and help them rebuild their lives…thank you for everything.” Finally, the mask broke - regret twisted her eyes and shook her parted lips. “If you gave second chances, I’d ask only for—”

Before she could finish, the window burst inward raining shattered glass over her prostrate body. Splinter flinched, choking up at the sight. Almost immediately a glass brick from a nearby building came careening through the window frame and struck her in the head. As the light left her eyes, and she died on her knees, the aged rat mourned the woman who’ gave up on life.

The sudden change in location was dizzying. Splinter gazed around him in confusion, trying to come to grips with what had happened. One moment he was in a small town high school library, standing at the side of a woman who’d died needlessly, next he stood in a familiar chamber. Intricate green and ivory tile, tarnished brass fittings, elegant bronze plaques, bright blue glass skylights and bare-bulb light fixtures…he gazed around him, struggling to make sense of the situation.

The abandoned City Hall subway station…He’d been pulled from a ruined schoolhouse to the abandoned City Hall station! Almost frantically he searched the large cavern; how could he have woken from his trance so far from his family?!

Movement in the corner startled him. He faded into the shadows with the ease of a ninja master, watching as a pile of rubbish shifted with a groan. “Aw, ma heid,”- a familiar voice groaned. Right before his eyes, Amber—the Amber his boys had brought to him—groggily struggled upright, rubbing her forehead right where the glass brick had struck her counterpart in his vision. The truth was all too clear now, though he still couldn’t fathom how it was possible.

Amber O'Brien died at the school, died in the library from a blow to the head. Against all logic, she woke up in that very cavern in the body of another: a woman formerly known as Kimber Bryant. It made no sense, but still, he knew it was true. Right then, the roar of a passing tram echoed through the chamber. Amber screamed, falling to her knees with her hands over her neck, firmly in the grips of a panic attack. The world faded around Splinter as she fought the demons of her previous life, cowering in the rubbish of another.

When did his life become so complicated?

~~~~~~~ The Lair ~~~~~~~

Splinter came back to himself with a start, glancing feverishly around for his sons. In mere moments the four gathered around him, Raphael shooting distrustful glares at the still unconscious woman still seated against his back. Unbidden, the aged mutant recalled her death - the way she died slumped over on her knees, head bowed in prayer but back abnormally straight in defiance…he shuddered. Finally, sure he had everyone’s attention, the aged rat answered the question hanging silently in the air.

“She speaks the truth…Kimber is gone; Amber lives again.”

Amber regained consciousness to the sound of distant arguing. Never realizing she was being watched, she sat up cross-legged, rubbing her aching forehead. “Owww…Di’ I skelp my heid er somethin’?”- she asked weakly, thickly.

“Blunt force trauma to the skull,” Donatello muttered from the shadows. She jumped but gripped her skull again.

“When?” she asked quickly chasing the thick, gruff tone away from her words. “I don’t recall ani'thin’- after that injection.”

Donatello took a moment to compose himself, padding toward her and dropping to one knee at her side. “It’s…” His fingers dug into the worn rug beneath them, anchoring himself in the moment. “You died. Do you remember?”

“Of course, I know I died,” she answered slowly, “what I don’t remember is the dyin’ bit…an’ why’s my head killin’ me?” Donatello stared through the still smoking incense, his shoulders fairly trembling. “Donnie?”

“A cube of blown architectural glass,” he muttered, then hesitantly met her eyes. Her lungs forgot their purpose when he gently, almost timidly brushed her punch red bangs away from her forehead. The contact sent a sharp throb through her skull; against her will, she hissed at the pain. His face fell. “The point of impact…It was quick, but I can’t guarantee it was painless.” It took a moment but she finally realized the connection.

“Wait…” She cringed. “Yer tellin’ me I was beaned in the brain-pan- with a glass brick?! The only place in town with glass bricks was Mum’s church!” She scoffed bitterly. “Oh, the irony…everythin’ that congregation put me through wasn’t enough, the building had to kill me, too. I take it Master Splinter was able to see everything, then…an’ he told y'all what happened.”

“Not everything, no, but he gave us the basics…Raphael doesn’t believe him.” A sudden crash rang out in the living room, followed by Splinter shouting in Japanese. “We’re safer in here, trust me.”

“Safe?” she scoffed. “What’s that? I was killed by a church - Nothin’s safe anymore.” She glanced over at her silent company, her cheeks pinking. “So did Splinter figure out how I got here, in this world?” Donnie shook his head, clearly disturbed by something.

“No, but he has an idea. He thinks you and Kimber might be inter-dimensional counterparts—the same soul existing in two different worlds—and that you were somehow drawn into her body when you both died. Sensei says you had regrets which may or may not be a factor.” He dug his knuckles into the worn rug, clearly fighting some unknown emotion. “She died before you got there, probably the night before we found you.” Not yet seeing the subtext, she sighed in obvious relief.

“You have NO idea what a relief that is,” she muttered. “I’ve been so worried I somehow forced'er out of'er own body—that I’m responsible for her death! I just couldn't—Dee, what’s wrong? Ya look like someone kicked your puppy!” He didn’t answer; instead, he hoisted himself to his feet and padded dejectedly out of the room. It wasn’t until later that night when he showed her to the spare cot in the Lab that she figured out what he wasn’t saying.

He had arrived in time to prevent her death, but not Kimber's…and Purple Dragon or not, the knowledge weighed heavily on him. Amber spent the whole night staring at the concrete ceiling, ruminating. It seemed even in her new life, she was too careless with her words and actions.

Somewhere between rumbling trains, memory assaults, and musings about stunning hazel eyes, the sewer faded into the world of dreams.

Still with me, y'all? Sure hope so

 Words (Midwestern Twang unless otherwise noted)

- Ain’t'cha? - 'Aren’t you?’ - Ani'thin’ - Anything, a local pronunciation similar in cadence to “Anikin” if the name started with an 'Enn.’ This may be a largely localized pronunciation as I’ve not heard it often and have never heard it outside my own area. - Cowk - Vomit, Scottish slang/Scots. - Di'n’t / Din’t - Didn’t - Ma heid - Scottish slang my head. - Idjit - slang pronunciation of idiot. - Kin - This one has two different possible meanings depending on how it’s used. If it’s used as a noun, it means family, and not only blood relations but the family you choose. It’s not a commonly used term anymore because people tend to associate it with family feuds and redneck living. If the word is used as a verb - as in “You kin kiss my arse,” it’s just a twisted pronunciation of “can,” differentiated because the -a- is instead prounced -i- like bin. - Knees’re - knees are - Out'a - Out of - Prob'ly  - Probably - Shaddup / Shuddup - 'shut up,’ generally more common in the South than the Midwest, but in Southern Missouri, it’s not unusual to hear either. The second pronunciation is the more common. - Di’ I skelp my heid 'er somethin’? - Amber’s first major speech relapse, this is mostly an ungodly meshing of twang and Scots. Basically, 'Did I hit my head or something?’ - That much I know’s true. - That much I know is true. - Beaned in the brain-pan - slang 'hit in the head’

- Adding 'e, 'is, or 'im to the end of a word - means he, his or him respectively. - Adding 'er to the end of a word - means her. - Adding 'ey, 'em, or 'eir to the end of a word - means they, them, or their respectively.

NOTES

* Credits for songs: “Time Warp” is by Patricia Quinn, Richard O'Brien, and Little Nell, from “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.” “Feed My Frankenstein” is by Alice Cooper, (AKA, the king of bizarre music) from album “Hey, Stoopid.” Lastly, “Ballroom Blitz” is by the band Sweet, best known for this song, “Fox on the Run” and “Love Is Like Oxygen.”

** The tune is Coldplay’s “Fix You;’ two guesses as to who’s humming it, and you really should only need ONE. It’s pretty obvious.

*** The book Amber reads here really exists. "Dark of the Moon” is a poetry anthology compiled by August Derleth, and includes “poems of fantasy and the macabre.” It’s highly uncommon—there were only a couple rather limited printings and most copies are found in libraries—but it’s very much worth the read. “The Eye” was written by Donald Wandrei and is found on pages 381 and 382 with several other of his sonnets. It appears exactly as it’s typed in my copy of the book and it makes my inner grammar nazi twitch; the correct phrase would be “Why is my arm so strongly STAID,” not “STAYED.” RRRG! Pretty sure its copyright is expired, as the volume was published in 1947.

UP NEXT: You Can’t Set a Broken Soul

Chapter List

[heyhey-heyward]

NO I DON’T | part four

series masterlist

summary: In which you take JJ shopping.

word count: 1.8k

let me know what you think! only one part left!

Around noon the next day, you had gathered the courage to show your face at The Chateau. You needed to take JJ shopping, which meant that you were probably going to have to stand the jokes he was going to make at your expense.

You climbed out of your car, finding John B, Pope, and JJ on the front porch. They waved as you approached, and you avoided looking at JJ. You tensed as you got closer, waiting for them to say something teasing about how you accidentally kissed JJ, but it never came.

“Fancy seeing you here.” John B commented as you stepped onto the porch. You rolled your eyes, leaning against the railing. He would’ve been the first to make a joke, so JJ must not have told them, a fact that you were grateful for.

“I need to kidnap JJ, we’re going shopping for Midsummers.” You teased and the blonde in question stood to his feet.

“I don’t have to wear some flowers, do I?” He asked, and you let out a laugh despite the fact that he was being serious.

“Good luck with him!” Pope called as you and JJ retreated to your car. You blew him and John B a kiss and waved before climbing into the vehicle. JJ wasted no time in taking control of the aux for the short drive to the ferry. You waited, once more, for the jokes about how you kissed him the night before to come, but again, you were left in suspense.

“You’re seriously the worst driver I know.” He teased with a grin as you parked at the ferry. With a dramatic gasp, you playfully shoved at his shoulder as you both climbed out of your car.

“I’m going to make you start walking everywhere now.” You shot back with a grin as you approached the ticket booth for the ferry. You slid the money across the counter to pay for the both of you, feeling the weight of his stare on you. Grabbing the tickets from the vendor, you started to walk towards where the boat was loading, tossing a grin to the side as he caught up with you.

JJ poked at your side as you sat in the seats on the front of the ferry. You shot him a look, and he gave you a smile as if claiming innocence. You rolled your eyes at him, leaning back in your seat and looking out onto the water. His arm found its way around your shoulders, and you tried to calm the rapid beating of your heart.

“You know, I’ve never really left the island.” JJ confessed after a moment. You looked up at him, noticing he was looking out onto the water instead of you as he spoke. “Never really had a reason to, you know?”

“Yeah, I never did either until I moved to Figure Eight.” You sympathized. Though you loved being a Pogue, Kook life offered so many more opportunities than you ever would have had on The Cut.

“I feel like I got my very own sugar mama.” He joked, effectively ruining the moment, though he had a point. You never wasted a chance to spend your hefty allowance on your friends, and the Pogues had nearly total access to any of the equipment at your family’s surf shop—a perk JJ took advantage of several times in order to get some new board wax.

Once on the mainland, you headed towards the store your dad recommended in order to rent a suit for JJ. You didn’t bother looking at prices, knowing you had more than enough money to cover it, and instead moved to look at ties that would match your dress.

“Hey J, bow tie or a regular tie?” You called, turning around while holding up both options for him to see. He was frowning, looking at the tag of some dress pants. “JJ?” The second time you said his name caught his attention, and he snapped up to meet your gaze with a distressed look.

“This is… all way too much.” He gestured wildly around the store. You shook your head, crossing back across the shop so you wouldn’t have to yell back and forth.

“We’re renting, so it’s cheaper. Plus, it’s like you said, I’m your sugar mama.” You explained with a grin as you poked his stomach. After a moment of hesitation, he relented, and you got the attention of one of the older men that ran the shop for assistance.

It was entertaining, sitting outside of the changing room as JJ tried on several suits. Just to mess with him, you had him try on a pastel blue jacket that Topper probably already had in his closet. He stepped out of the changing room, a frown deeply etched into his features that had you busting out laughing.

“I look like the guys at the hotel who get mad when I don’t clear a table fast enough.” He commented, clearly uncomfortable in the overly preppy jacket. You snickered, a clear image of the exact type of men he was talking about—the ones that put on Midsummers. “Please do not make me wear this one.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” You waved him off, and he let out a breath of relief as he started to head back into the changing room for his next option. “I think Topper already has dibs on blue, maybe we try orange next?” Your comment earned a glare before the door shut behind him.

“What about this one?” JJ asked as he stepped out of the changing room once more. Your breath caught in your throat as you took him in. It was a simple black suit with a white button up, but there was something about the fit that made it look exceptionally good—or maybe it was just the fact that JJ was incredibly attractive already.

“It’s good.” You cleared your throat, standing up to put on the bow tie for him. You focused on the fabric moving as you worked, trying your hardest to block out the fact that you could feel JJ’s eyes on you. Your breathing stuttered and fingers stilled as his hands landed on your waist, and when you finally finished tying, you rested your hands on the lapels of his jacket.

He spun you around slowly, his hands still resting on your waist. He pulled you back slightly, so your back was gently resting against his front. You met his gaze through the mirror, finding an unreadable look that made your head dizzy.

“What are you doing?” You asked quietly, afraid that if you talked too loudly you’d ruin the moment that had been created. Your heart was beating out of your chest as JJ rested his chin on your shoulder.

“‘M appreciating you.” He mumbled, his voice right by your ear sent a shock down your spine and made goosebumps rise on your arms. It was something he had said so many times to get under John B’s skin when the brunette would get annoyed by his blatant flirting, but now he wasn’t around. It was just you and JJ, and the words that so often fell past his lips were taking on a different meaning.

“Like you… As you should.” You tried to return your usual banter, but his proximity was clounding your senses and making you lightheaded. You watched as a small smile turned the corners of JJ’s lips up, but he stayed quiet at first. He opened his mouth to say something, but just then the man that had been helping JJ pick a suit came back to check on him, and the two of you jumped apart.

Once you had JJ’s suit picked out, you headed back to the island. Just like the kiss, neither one of you talked about what had happened in the changing room. Though you were a very physically affectionate person and you usually hung off of JJ, there was something different about what had happened. The moment felt charged with a tension that you couldn’t quiet name.

“It’s good to be back, let it be another ten years before I leave again.” JJ joked as soon as you got off of the ferry and made it to your car. You rolled your eyes, choosing not to comment as you carefully hung up the suit in the backseat. “Give me your keys, I want to drive.”

“Don’t make me regret this.” You huffed, handing over your keys as JJ pumped his fist in victory. You chuckled at his antics, moving around the car to get in the passenger’s seat. This time, you got to control the music, and you couldn’t help the smile you wore as JJ started belting out the words to the first song you had put on. It was clear he was being dramatic, exaggerating all his dance moves and the high notes, and each time you’d laugh loudly he would shoot you a smile that you swore could light up the whole island. You were so distracted by the blonde driving, that you didn’t even realize where he was taking you until he was putting the car in park. “Ice cream? I thought we were going to The Chateau.”

“Nah, snack time. My treat.” He explained as he climbed out of the car. You tried not to think about how it felt like a date, him buying you ice cream, and instead focused on smiling politely and giving your order to the woman behind the counter. Once you got your orders, you moved to sit at one of the picnic tables.

“Thank you, J.” You smiled, one that was returned without any of his usual mischief.

“So, about last night.” He started and you swallowed thickly. Your gaze fell to the table, inspecting the old painted wood as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. “When you kissed me.”

If your gaze hadn’t been so focused on the table, you would’ve seen the way the corners of JJ’s lips turned up in a genuine smile.

“It was an accident, it didn’t mean anything. Friends?”

You were lying. After the kiss, you had stayed up half the night in awe of the way it felt to have his lips on yours, no matter how briefly. It was such a quick moment, but you had been replaying the chain of events that led to the kiss so often it felt like it had been an hour long ordeal.

You still weren’t paying attention to JJ—or the way his smile fell and morphed into a frown at your words.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s what I thought. Friends.” JJ replied softly, and you finally looked up. Forcing a smile onto your face, you went back to your ice cream, though you no longer had an appetite.

You had feelings for JJ, and you wished you didn’t.

—

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